This story started as a text message to a friend, one of my partners in crime. It also started in Hawaii, it was supposed to be one scene.
I have proven with this that I'm unable to write without making something into a huge, elaborate, production.
Anyways... enjoy :)
The hype of the birthday celebrations had finally died down. They'd lasted a whole week after his surprise party; mostly because Castle couldn't get over his festive mood. But neither could Kate. Not that she'd ever admit it to him.
Every time that Kate went back to the moment he had uncovered her secret plot, that split second when his expression had turned from terrified astonishment to incommensurable happiness, she couldn't help it; she had to take a minute to pat herself on the back. She had done it. She had outsmarted Richard Castle.
And so they had relished in their own private celebrations; quiet moments in his bedroom with a good movie, surrounded by different and fun dishes that she had learned how to cook especially for him.
"Don't get too used to this," she said with a warning leer, popping a wonton into his mouth. She knew that this break couldn't last forever, that soon they would have to slip back into their routine. Eventually anyway. For now, it just felt so nice to be surrounded by this cloud they had formed for themselves.
But they had to face the rap sooner or later; not everything could be fun and games. Castle was off the cast and feeling better; Bora-Bora had been postponed until she could request another week of vacation time.
"It's something to plan for the future," she reassured him, as he fingered wistfully through the brochure. It wasn't like they hadn't already been having fun with their time off.
His eyes lit up with her words and the brochure fell silently to the floor as he wrapped her up in his arms.
And so they had gradually settled back into the normalcy that they had grown accustomed to over the last year or so; one that wasn't lamentable at all. The first coffee of the morning as she dressed for work, lunch at Remy's whenever they found themselves at the precinct around noon. They left for the evening together and he always found a good enough excuse for her to spend the night. She didn't try to fight it anymore. Not much anyways.
A few weeks ago he had accused her of being the fun police when she refused to leave mid-week for a Hamptons escapade. She had rolled her eyes. Though she had to admit she had been a little bit sad. She craved the sun on her skin, the sand under her toes, slow but passionate lovemaking while their bodies were caressed by the gentle fingers of a warm sea breeze.
Maybe she should have listened to him.
It's three p.m. on a slow Tuesday. The precinct's air conditioning is down for repairs and the room feels stuffy and stale.
Without the hum of the compressors above her, without the usual rumble of the dozens of people walking in and out, and the screaming matches with suspects in holding, minus the tip-tapping of fingers on computer keyboards and the constant ringing of phones, the bullpen seems more overwhelming than usual. It's like she needs the white noise to make it alright…
That, or maybe it's the empty chair sitting next to her desk.
Castle hasn't been in for the last two days, and it's all her doing.
He usually juggles the precinct, his own work and business pretty well. Even when cases have them working deep into the night, her partner is a master at managing all the balls he has in the air. But between the eventful trip to Vail, the drug-filled recovery, and then the physical therapy that will be extending through the next couple of months, it has come to her attention that he hasn't dedicated much time to the new Nicky Heat. He has missed more than a few meetings for the movie sequel to Heat Wave. She's sure that a movie titled Naked Heat will for sure draw some serious box office revenue and even bigger jokes aimed at her. He hasn't set foot in The Old Haunt in weeks. He's letting things slide and it doesn't sit right with her.
She misses him, of course, but she knows better than to act clingy and needy. Castle provides more than enough of that for the both of them. She sheds her jacket and throws it onto his chair, hoping to fill the void, groaning softly as she settles back into her own.
It's not so much that she needs the conversation, or even the distraction for what has turned out to be a very boring workday, it's the reassuring presence of him, the knowledge that he's around if she needs him. It makes her feels as though things are as they are supposed to be.
Maybe she really is the fun police.
Monday had been alright. She'd welcomed the opportunity to get most of her paperwork done. She had caught up with all of her emails and even squeezed in a lunch with her father.
"So, how's Rick?"
"He's fine," she responds, mentally kicking herself for using that word. Her dad knows her well enough to know that fine never means just that.
"Hmm…" He looks at her, his eyes crinkling and his lips pursing; his tell that he can see straight through her avoidance. "What's going on?"
"Nothing is going on, Dad," Kate replies, stabbing a French fry with her fork. "It's nothing."
"Sure, nothing." Jim takes a big bite of his burger, his chewing slow and methodical.
Kate avoids the relationship talk with him whenever she can, because she knows that he'd like to know more than sometimes she is willing to share. But he's caught her red handed on this one. She sighs and leans back on the bench.
"He wants me to move in." Kate doesn't lift her gaze from her plate, not wanting to face her father's reaction to this piece of news. Her hands brace at the edge of her seat, nails digging into the cracked vinyl.
"And what are your thoughts about it?"
She takes a deep breath and examines the ceiling above her; the other patrons chatter, knives scratch along the cheap china and irritate her nerves.
"I really don't know…" she concedes, meeting his gaze. And she really doesn't.
"What are you afraid of Katie?"
"You know me better than that, dad…" She rolls her eyes at him as he smiles back at her.
"That I do."
"I'm not afraid."
"Sure you're not, Katie. Eat your lunch."
Kate has always been a creature of habit. The trinkets on her desk are always placed in the same spot, the books on her nightstand stacked in a very specific order, according to what she's reading and the makeup on her vanity is aligned according to the progression she follows as she applies it; but as Castle has started to invade her space, slowly but surely change has occurred. It crept in slowly, barely perceptible, until all of a sudden she realized that they had been sharing spaces for far longer than she had noticed.
She now has an assortment of magnetic board games in the bottom drawer of her desk, a combination of his favorite chocolate and her mints mingling together in her candy bowl, and while he hasn't messed with her book order, she now finds from time to time foot notes and Post-its with lovely and quirky messages that she looks forward to finding as she progresses through her reading.
This man has changed her, as much as she has changed him. He's part of her and when he's absent something feels empty, out of place. It's a continuous adaptation to each other, one that she can't qualify as a painful compromise; they want to be with each other, they're meant to be together and so, they're continuing to mold around each other, filling the empty spaces, reshaping and finding comfort as they lean and push into the hollows and curves of each other's lives.
She's learned to use her words, he's learned to read her better; she's learned to appreciate his boyish eagerness and he's learned to enjoy the silence she sometimes needs. They're at a point where, without even noticing, they're having conversations without ever uttering a word. But she doesn't know if that's a good thing.
He's asked her a dozen times by now. "Move in with me." He always has that look in his eyes, the harbored hope that this is the time that she'll finally say yes and stop coming up with excuses to keep her apartment.
She knows it's futile to keep fighting it; half her clothes are already on the right side of his walk in closet, the fridge is stocked with her soy milk and a variety of her favorite jams, her whites soak mixed with his, and her jeans tumble in the dryer alongside his cargo pants.
Still, she doesn't yet consider this considerable presence of her in his loft as reasoning enough to take the final decisive step.
Which leads them to where they now stand.
Sunday night, he'd shown her a laundry list of things he needed to pay attention to. After a very heated conversation with Paula and four lengthy emails from the producer of Naked Heat, he had been forced to compile his very own to-do list. Kate had shaken her head, taken a deep breath and donned her jacket, fastened her boots and told him that he needed to concentrate and take care of business. With her there, he'd always find an excuse to procrastinate, and then to procrastinate some more.
"You don't need to leave." His voice is sober and there is a plea laced through it.
"I do, Castle," she responds, kissing his cheek with a sad smile. Softly, she caresses his lips with the tips of her fingers to let him know that she wants him too. "Call me when the list is cleared," she murmurs, tracing her thumb along the plump flesh, lingering before drawing away.
"But..."
She presses her lips to his, the moment of anxiety dissolving as she feels his shoulders relax under her tender touch. A deep sigh rumbles through his chest as Kate gives his lip one ever so brief nip before she puts some distance between them.
His eyes are still closed, reveling in the sensation, when she walks away. He hangs his head; she knows he doesn't want to see her go. It's becoming harder every time.
She closes the front door behind her, and smirks sadly to herself when she hears the muffled groan of exasperation that she had all but predicted when she walked out into the hallway.
Since, she has willed herself to not text him every half hour. She checked on him last night, an hour-long conversation that felt like a progress report of his tasks, and hers. She could hear the longing in his voice; this is probably the longest that they have been apart, at least voluntarily, in the last few months.
This is the one thing that they hadn't adapted to well enough. They've managed to make the precinct work manageable, professional, not raising any concerns now that Gates knows about them. They have gotten over the teenaged bashfulness of letting their friends see them interact as a couple; they have mingled with their families, and even gotten good at it, eventually.
They have no problem being together as long it is on her terms. The problem is managing being apart; it has become a fragile game of push and pull. And why is she making them do this? Really, what is she so afraid of?
They have managed to conquer the hardest of fights, the search for justice, they've taken down all manner of dangerous threats, but finding space in their lives for the tedious tasks of adulthood… apparently, it's not on the list of priorities. At least, not on his.
Including figuring out where are they going with all of this. She had tried to breach the subject, but she ended up chickening out. Didn't follow through, let it slide.
So she has managed to still keep up with her bills, setting reminders on her phone, taping notes to her computer screen. She is making the effort to keep her side up and running… yet, as a faded sticky note falls from her dusty screen, she doesn't exactly know why she is keeping up with some of these responsibilities when it could indeed be so much easier. As he had repeated to her at least once a day for the past week.
He has mocked her system a couple of times, slipping it into the conversation because he was very well aware that she wouldn't have to mind those bills and the back and forth, again, if she just moved in with him. She had thrown him a stern side look, and he had backed away from the subject until he had come up with the idea of hiring an assistant to deal with those, "pesky tasks that steal valuable time. Time that could be much better spent indulging in more… interesting errands."
She knows that he is aware that the whole discussion isn't about the time, or arrangements, or even money… well maybe it's a little bit about the money. But mainly, it's about how in the process of finding ways to mold to each other, she's realizes that she has missed how she used to be on her own, making decisions on her own and feeling independent. Hell, she misses having the bathroom all to herself.
Romantic movies lie about this. Even when you're dying to connect and meld with another, you still need to be able to separate and maintain some kind of autonomy. She needs to rekindle with her own space.
And that's what she did after she ended their call last night. Reluctant but firm in her decision to force him to spend time on his own, she poured herself a generous glass of Cabernet, filled the tub, hooked up her iPod and soaked until her toes couldn't possibly be more wrinkled. She had taken her time to groom, and to do her hair; she'd picked her clothes for the next day. But then she'd sat on her couch with the intent of reading the stack of magazines that had accumulated and the silence was deafening.
Kate Beckett was a creature of habit, and apparently… her latest was Richard Castle.
Perhaps this was her greatest discovery as of late, admitting to this new phase of life and trying to accept her mind's need to crave it. The problem lay with what she needed to figure out, what she wanted to do next.
Her cell phone rings, snapping her back to reality. Lanie's picture shows on her screen.
"Hey lady," Kate answers, trying to mask her mood.
"Hey girl, are we still up for drinks tonight, or are you ditching me again for what… the fifth time in a row?"
She smiles, guilty as charged. She has cancelled plans with Lanie continuously, for a variety of reasons. Two of them had been a case; the rest could possibly, definitely, be pinned to whatever plan Castle had come up with for the night. It wasn't fair to her best friend.
"No, no," she assures her. "We're seeing each other tonight."
"Ooh, did Castle give you the night off?"
"Lanie…"
"Oh, I see." The ME's voice has changed from playful to suspicious; her friend knows all too well how to read her. "Are we going to need hard liquor?"
"We'll see. Meet you there?"
"See you at six."
She hangs up and looks at her watch. Two more hours of wallowing at her desk, forty five minutes of New York subway rush hour, and then she'd be able to drown her confusion in girl talk and a few Midori Sours.
"I would be fed up by now." Lanie slurps the green drink through a black straw; it's the second of the night and they really haven't set a mark for what their limit will be. "How long have you been keeping this up?" The woman asks as she bites on a warm jalapeno cheese popper.
"I think most of my good coats have been in his closet for three months now."
Kate plays with the lemon that floats on the surface of her drink, taking an occasional sip, stabbing the cherry until its pieces float around the mixture of melted ice and liquor. Her friend wipes the crumbs off her fingers on the napkin under her drink, flattening the edges as if trying to distract herself.
"Yeah, honey," Lanie starts, her head cocked to the side, finding Kate's eyes with a knowing look. "I believe you're just fighting the inevitable."
Kate looks away and considers the meaning of that word. It looms over her, final, decisive.
"But why is it that we define it that way? The Inevitable…"
Her frustration is seeping out of her in waves; frustration at her inability to settle on a clear reason as to why she's having so much trouble with this argument. "It just sounds so… so…"
"Terrifying?" Lanie completes, an eyebrow hitching and a small smirk gracing her lips.
Kate meets her daring gaze. She's inclined to say No; she wants to deny that she's afraid. She's convinced herself that she's past those moments of insecurity, but maybe she didn't resolve them at all. Maybe they've just been tiptoeing around them and now they've come back to haunt her.
And really, what's the point of denying it any longer? What is she resolving by hiding her head in the sand?
"I guess so," she finally concedes, shoulders slumping in defeat. She doesn't like admitting to even a bit of powerlessness. "I don't know, Lanie. Am I terrified?"
The ME raises her eyebrows again but this time it's a silent response, her expression challenging Kate's indecision and sufficiently stating her position on the matter. She pushes the last snack towards the detective and she takes it, the spiciness of the pepper making her feel a needed jolt to her senses, the warmth rising on her lips as a fiery kiss. Just like his.
Kate is not having an easy time straightening the ball of yarn she's made of her brain. The liquor is helping, a little, but not as fast as she'd like. Kate downs the rest of her drink and points to the waitress to bring another round.
"What's keeping you away, Kate?" Lanie continues her probing as a perky woman takes away their empty glasses. "A few weeks ago when we were planning his surprise, you were more than comfortable being with him all the time. Why aren't you with him tonight? You know, besides trying to live up to your word and not bailing out on me?"
Kate takes a deep breath and focuses on the damp napkin she's been shredding.
"I put him in a time out," she explains, worrying her lip. "He had things to do, things that weren't being done because he's always so distracted by… us."
"That doesn't sound like a terrible transgression."
Her friend winks at her and Kate cannot help the smile that creeps onto her lips. She does enjoy their amazing times together. Each moment is filled with discoveries and reassurances that she never imagined would belong to them.
"Don't you want to spend time with him?"
"I do, I love spending time with him, but it's like… see, ok…"
Their drinks arrive and she grabs onto hers, taking another large gulp. As she swallows the sour liquid, the point she is trying to make suddenly becomes clear, as if she's opened a floodgate that is about to unleash a sweeping force.
"This is one of the things that we get into, and it's always so frustrating."
Her brow furrows and her eyes roll; another sign of how these details have been annoying her to no end.
"He starts with the whole thing about me moving in, how we'd waste less time commuting between each other's place, how I won't have to groan over the fact that the blouse that goes with this pair of pants is back in my closet, how it's ridiculous to pay for my cable bill when all of the movies are being watched on his 82" flat screen… and so on."
Her friend snickers at her. Probably because her issues sound idiotic and conceited. But she feels like she's drowning in a drop of water. But is she really? What is the real problem?
"Lanie, he's trying hard, so hard, to make things easier for me, but is that what it is, to just make things easier?" Kate combs a hand through her hair, slowly falling into rationalization of the combination of reasons. "At first, I thought that this last bout of neediness had come from our last case-"
"Vaughn?"
"Yes."
Lanie nods in understanding; she had been a clear witness of Castle's jealousy.
"And I wanted to have a thorough conversation with him about all this. For me it just seems like… we're moving forward, yes, in certain aspects, but they seem like the wrong ones. His stuff is with my stuff, he takes over everything but what about the reasoning behind it all?"
She takes another sip and lets the burn of the sweet alcoholic concoction wash through her; the impetus of her rant dying has faded and left her exhausted. Maybe she needed to come out with the word vomit to leave space for her thoughts though, because now it seems clear in her head.
"What am I doing for him in return? I'd rather that he—" She interrupts herself, unable to put into words what she really wants from him. "He doesn't have to do these things…"
"He doesn't have to pay your way," Lanie adds up, catching some of her drift.
"He doesn't," Kate confirms, solemnly.
"You do understand that it's a part of himself that he will never be able to get rid of, right?" Lanie says, leaning in as though she's letting her into some kind of amazing discovery. In reality, she's making fun of her. "It's not the only way he has to solve problems but he is, after all, a renowned author, and a rich one at that. Are you really going to let that get in the way?"
Kate rolls her eyes. It might be a humorous comeback but she's right, it's the way that he's used to solving things.
"I just don't want it to become like he's this knight in shining, expensive armor, always coming to my rescue."
"Oh, Kate Beckett, let yourself be the lady sometimes."
She rolls her eyes, and Lanie's roll back in mockery. She's known her for so long now, seen many relationships fail, mostly because she sabotages them; she knows her tells, her ingrained habit of destroying connections.
Kate wonders if this is her way of getting cold feet over something that should be progressing.
"You're too into your own head, girl." Lanie states, a finger playfully pointing at her. "But I do get your hesitation. I still think you're drowning yourself in a glass of water."
"I'm not," she dares to shoot back and her friend chuckles her response.
"You are, and I'll tell you why." Lanie won't take denial from her, not in a million years. "You want to be in control, but living at his loft gives him, in your head, a fake sense of having the upper hand. It makes you believe that he's doing more, solving a so called problem his way but not attacking the root, at the same time feeding this nagging in your head that maybe it's not enough, that maybe you're not enough or he isn't. And you're trying to compete with him on a level that's not the one you're should be measuring yourself on. There's a reason why people look for someone to complement them. Because bringing different things into the deal makes a good mix. It's not always about being equal in everything. Why would you want more of the same? People would forever stay by themselves if they really didn't need something to complete them."
She ponders this. Eleven months of their relationship flash through her head, and then four years on the road that brought them to this moment.
"But what have I brought to him?" Her voice is almost inaudible under the music of the bar. Her insecurities are raging, making her feel as if she's barely capable of asking herself the question. "Does he know? Do I know?"
Lanie looks at her with piercing eyes, leaning back in her seat and laying a heavy hand on the surface of the table.
"Girl, are you fucking kidding me?"
When her third call to his cell phone goes unanswered, she starts to worry that maybe she pushed too hard.
She had ignored his text messages all day long; maybe she had been too strict. Or maybe he had just fallen asleep.
She tries the land line this time. Maybe he left his phone on vibrate and on its own in the other room. The theories run wild in her head. She berates herself for that one instantly. Richard Castle might as well have a stroke before he'd spend more than ten minutes away from his phone. This is clearly him ignoring her now. But before she can hang up the line she hears the click on the other end.
"Hello, Katherine!" Martha's chirp bounces off her ear like a bell, mocking her mood. She's always so happy and uplifting.
"Oh… Hi Martha, did I – Did I wake you up? I didn't mean to disturb…"
As much as she's grown closer to the woman, she sometimes feels as if she shouldn't even make herself noticeable around his family.
"Nonsense, child. I was just about to settle in with a movie and a glass of wine," Martha responds in her usual breezy tone.
"I was just trying to get a hold of Castle." Kate tries to sound nonchalant but fails miserably at it.
"Oh I see."
Busted, she thinks as the woman's inflection changes. Castle probably whined and moaned to her about the fact that she forced him to spend time on his own, and damn him for being such a crybaby.
"I forgot you gave him homework," Martha says.
The alcohol is beginning to pound in her head, and it annoys her that he had to include his mom in this discussion. But who is she to complain really? She has Lanie and her father to grumble to. But who does Castle have? Other than her?
"Well, I guess that's one way of putting it." She feels like she should clarify, but does she really want to bring more people into this?
"No need to explain, it's not like I'm completely unaware of my son's charming indifference to everyday tasks."
Kate lets out a sigh and wonders how much moping around Martha witnessed.
"Did he… Is he…?" Kate's worried.
"Upset? Mad? Hurt?" Martha guesses.
And yeah, that should cover the range of emotions that she suspects Castle must be sporting right about now.
"Yes…"
"No more than a scolded child. He'll survive."
A brief sense of relief washes over her at the woman's words. It still amuses her how he's a grown man and yet for his mother, he'll always be a child. And it's not so much about his childish ways, but about the undying care that she knows the woman gives to him, even when their relationship may seem more like best friends than that of a mother and son.
"He did good. In fact he's at The Old Haunt now; he mentioned a meeting with the new manager."
"Good, good. I think..." Kate responds, still trying to sound as though she's not concerned, that this discussion is just about a dumb spat and not about a situation that holds many other layers.
"Katherine, don't worry."
Martha's voice comes across so full of understanding that it makes her heart pang. Even over the phone, it has a soothing effect on her, one that could only come from someone that has full experience in facing these insecurities; someone that has been around the block more than a dozen times.
"There'll always be moments like these. You have to know that my son has his heart in the right place, he's just a little challenged with the wording… it's hard for him when it doesn't belong on a piece of paper."
Kate breath catches, because this is also her doing. Has she pushed hard enough to make this situation clear?
"Go find him. I'm sure he's up for a night cap."
She smiles, and while she knows the woman won't see it, her voice does sound calmer.
"Thank you, Martha."
She's had enough alcohol, but it's time that they have a conversation.
It's 11:55pm by the time she makes it to The Old Haunt. It's a Tuesday night; the place is near empty, there are only a few patrons sitting in a couple of corner booths and an old geezer perched on the bar.
"Hey there, Detective Beckett." The bartender smiles politely at her when he spots her.
"Hi Matthew, is he still here?"
"Yeah, back room, he's been shooting darts for a good while, by himself."
Of course he is, she thinks.
"Fix you anything?"
"A couple of coffees?" she asks, and the young man throws her a quizzical look.
"That kind of a night?"
She gives him a tightlipped smile and nods, wonders if Castle has trusted him with some light drunken confessions in his annoyance.
"I'll fix your mix. Be right back." The man busies himself, handling the fancy espresso machine that Castle had installed, a bit too much for the purpose of sobering up clients, but completely for his own enjoyment… and hers. He even brought in the roast that she loves. This man… she thinks, and her lips spread in a shy smile.
She leans her back against the bar and throws a glance to the dark wooden booths; a couple of men are focused on the flat screen above them, ESPN' Sportscenter showing today's results. And then, there's the token couple.
Their attire tells her that they're probably investment bankers or work in some high end office; maybe they're lawyers. The woman's dark blue tailored jacket hangs open, showing a classic silk blouse underneath. The tight pencil skirt hugs her small frame and Kate spots her unclad foot softly caressing up and down the man's calf. The warm light of the sconces illuminates the red head's face, her lips stretched, smiling at the tall man across from her as he smiles back; the sleeves of his grey Armani button down are rolled up, showing his arms. He pulls on his tie, loosening it, looking utterly relaxed.
Kate can see how much this woman fascinates this man; he leans forward, his fingers combing through his brown hair and then reaching across to tuck a fiery strand behind her ear. Her blue eyes meet his hazel and there's just so much want. The flirtation oozes from them; on their parted lips, on his fingers skirting down her arm and ending their path at her hand, lacing them through her own. It's so simple, raw desire and sweet starvation for each other.
It reminds her of them… when Castle and she finally allowed to chance these encounters in places like this. In a booth just like this, in fact, right here, in this place. Their booth though, is empty tonight. She looks to her left and she can see the greenish light from the back room spilling through the panels that give privacy to the area. He's hiding in there, retreating.
The young bartender breaks her reverie as he comes back with the drinks. The smell immediately grounds her, that familiar smell that's just theirs; rich, dark and enveloping, even mixed with the ambient aroma of the bar.
She makes her way to the back; the lights are dim, the room just dark enough to have a mysterious mood. The air is marked by smoke that hangs low, its swirls caught by the light cast by the flood lamps above the pool tables. She can smell the cigar resting on the ashtray on the tall table beside him; it's been a while since she's seen him smoke, too long actually.
She's learned that if it comes accompanied by a vintage scotch on the rocks, it's an enjoyment cigar. If it's met by the murk of a straight shot, it's just meant to dull his senses.
There is no ice in his drink; just pure, neat, golden caramel alcohol.
His back is to her, a broad wall of tense muscles working under the fabric of his charcoal T-shirt. He doesn't wear this one unless he's just lounging around or… in no mood to care about how he looks. The dull thud of the darts piercing the bulls-eye in front of him is languid, almost soothing.
He senses her presence, throwing a look above his shoulder, his eyes just briefly registering a mix of surprise and something else that she can't pinpoint. He turns back around and throws; a dart sinks its tip front and center.
"I thought we were supposed to be doing chores." His voice is rough, a steel texture to it. The swish of another dart flies through the air to the board.
"Don't be like that," she says, coffee cups in her hand. She stands still, waiting for him to react; his shoulders slump and he sets the remaining darts next to the ashtray. Castle turns to her, a hand stroking his face in frustration.
"Don't be like what, Kate? You're the one keeping me at arm's length."
She takes a few steps towards him and places the mugs on the edge of the pool table. She can hear a deep sigh escape his chest, the bar has grown silent; Matthew must have started to hit last call. She lifts her gaze to him, finding his focused on her. There's pain in his eyes, they look exhausted and weary, and she wonders what else his own ghosts have thrown into the mix to make this situation even worse.
"I'm not Castle. It's quite the opposite."
The confusion registers on his face, and she knows that he must be wondering about the logic behind her argument.
"Why do you keep this stubborn argument going on?" He's not sounding mad, it's more like frustration.
She shakes her head at him and comes closer, trying to find the words behind her ideas.
"Don't you want to be with me?"
And then it hits her.
He's got it all wrong. She's made it all wrong.
"I want to be with you, all the time, but there has to be a balance to things…" she begins, her voice thick with nerves, her confession seeming so heavy in her chest. She's scared, but they're past this, they have to go past this. "There has to be genuine reasons besides mechanical expectations."
"You think I'm just bringing this up because it's what's expected?" His head cocks to the side and he's genuinely confused.
"No. Yes…" She would love to be secure of her response but she can't even say for sure that his motivations are based on those reasons.
"I want this to be a decision because we both want it, because we know our destination and this is the correct way, because we know our role in this… mission."
"Kate, you make it sound like you're enlisting us in some kind of war."
"But maybe it is, Castle." She digs deep into his blue gaze and she can see the wheels turning. He's a smart man, he knows that there's more to this and maybe he has his own list of things that will make them meet in the middle.
"Rick, this is a battle I never want to lose and right now I feel like we're setting ourselves up." Kate grasps for his right hand, delicately, so much so that it might even seem like she's not even touching him. Her fingers lightly twine over his, trying to not make her invasion evident.
"We don't talk about this…" she says, admiring their laced fingers, warm, soft but strong, tenderness and fire, a show of what they are, a molded mix. "What is this?"
Her eyes meet his when he lifts her chin up to him.
"This is everything, Kate. I just… I don't know. When did I start making you doubt that we're on the right path?"
She takes a deep breath and lets go, leaning against the pool table. It's a distance that he won't allow her and he follows, grabbing onto one of the cups and handing it to her. She's trying to organize her thoughts and it doesn't come easy. She came here to talk and he's taking her dare, not dropping his gaze on her as he takes a sip of his own coffee, seeing her bide her time as she collects and rummages through her own self-doubt and annoyance.
Kate wonders if there will ever be a way to articulate her thoughts that doesn't involve exploding in a visit to her therapist. They seem so abstract, and she's not sure it's about him doing anything wrong. Maybe it's more about him not fitting in with what she knows maybe are preconceived ideas of what should be.
"Talk to me, Kate."
She takes another calming sip of her coffee, but she's not calmed at all. She's anxious and she's sure it shows in her eyes as they delve into his, not avoiding them but needing time. And then there it is, that knowing look she can never escape, he grabs her cup and settles it back on the wooden edge of the table.
He crowds her, his lips so close to hers.
"Come clean."
She can't do this when he's so close to her so she puts distance between them, her hand bracing on her hip and her stance showing her unrest.
"Bring out the small things, Kate," she hears Lanie's words in her head. "Bring out the small things and they'll show you the big ones."
She lifts her head and he's waiting, one hand braced against the table and the other lifting the coffee to his lips. He's settling in for this conversation, his expression patient but expectant.
"You… Castle, you're always doing all these things, and that's another something that I love about you but sometimes it's too much."
Her voice starts with a tinge of doubt but she can feel it brewing, the pace growing stronger, and all of the sudden there's no stopping it.
"You take over. Once you decide on a route it's like no one can stop you and you set all these things in motion and no one can divert you. Because you think that's the best way, and sometimes you're right, but sometimes you aren't. And you don't ask if it's okay and I can do things on my own; like the lotion, what's up with that?"
The rant leaves her breathless and a little dizzy and the expression on his face couldn't be of any more confusion.
"What about the lotion?" His eyes crease, cringing as he tries to guess what she means by it, and she's already kicking herself for probably not exposing this as clear as she should. She's still hiding. She's a coward.
"It's so freaking expensive, and unnecessary, and I have my own," she replies, and it's half true, but that's not the actual reason for her annoyance. She hates that she's starting to sound like a brat as she diverts from the real issue. This is not what she wants; she wants rationality, maturity.
"Yeah, I know you have your own," he starts, half humoring her. "I know. The one that does nothing for your calves' pain and smells like rotten lemons. Meanwhile, I seem to recall that that freaking expensive lotion and my hands turned you into a puddle of goo many a night that you were grumbling and moaning about running too much in your insane heels."
Damn this man. Damn him and everything that he does that makes him miss the point. There's a pause after his own breathless rant and then he sets his cup down.
"I just wanted to make you feel better…" he states, his voice serene. It almost makes her feel like she's over reacting, but no, she must push through. In reality this is not only about him, she has to find why she's also not ready for this battle.
"Castle, you don't even ask!" Kate responds, louder than she intended but she corrects her tone as she continues and he braces for impact, crossing his arms across his chest protectively. "You take over and like I said, I love that, most of the time, but before I can even think about it, there you are, with lunch, all set, or handing me my coat and pushing me out of the precinct for whatever craving you think I'm having!"
His hands are on his hips now, and there's the shake of his cheek just starting to appear. Yeah, he's beginning to get impatient and frustrated at this line of conversation but she can't let it go. She won't weasel out of saying what's on her mind.
"Well, what do you want me to do? Contrary to popular belief, Kate, you can't live on popcorn and coffee!"
Of course you can, her stubborn mind screams, and then her rational side rolls its eyes at herself.
"You get extra grumpy when you're hungry, and then come the headaches, and the yawning, and the crashing when we get home. When we're finally allowed to act normal, you die on me, annoyed and feeling sick. Why would I let you do that to yourself?"
She does have a knack for punishing herself for the sake of pushing the extra hour, the extra effort that might get them the name of the suspect on the loose. She knows she does this, she knows she hides in her work. She also used to hide in relationships that didn't work… she doesn't want this to become another scar on the surface of her heart.
"But you shouldn't babysit me. I'm a grown woman, I can keep my own. I should keep my own."
And it dawns on her that she's never been this far into the rabbit hole, this far into being honest, this far into a relationship.
"I'm perfectly capable of running my life on my own," she says, her voice coming down to a hush. "I've done it all these years and I don't have to stop because now I have you."
"Like your bills and all those useless post its?" He smirks and she wants to kick him.
"My system works just fine." She's stubborn and proud and still holding on to her rant about still being independent. "If you don't like my Post-its, I still have my phone to remind me…"
"Thanks to me! Because you wouldn't even bother to try out the damn app!" Castle bursts out, in a laugh that almost sounds sarcastic. "It all has to be as it was before, like you did things before, you resist change so much that it makes me wonder if you'll ever actually be okay with it. I always have to tiptoe around it. But at the same time… you know what, Kate? It's fine."
The small humor that he had in his voice had dissipated, and the last part of that phrase was filled with so much dread that it made her stomach churn. Nausea is taking over her and a shiver runs down her spine because she doesn't know where this will end. She doesn't know if in fact this could be the end. She is not prepared for this. This is new, and terrifying, and she wants so bad to run out the door.
"It scares me, Kate. It scares me that maybe this is not a definite thing for you. This is why I end up trying to do all these things, and avoiding… this." He signals the space between them, the symbol of this flood of unique honesty that has been spilling out of them. "It scares me that I'm starting to think that you feel that I don't deserve to be with you. That I'm just a fool that will never grow up… So, yeah, guilty as charged, I avoid. And you deserve better than that. Maybe I'm not that man."
If she hadn't been looking at him dead on she might have missed the last part. His voice was so low, barely a whisper. A pained whisper and her heart breaks in a million pieces because they're so screwed.
"Don't say that… Don't you ever."
Her hand cradles his cheek and the moisture that escapes his eyes surprises her. She's only seen this man cry on two occasions and she never wanted him to cry over her, never again. Kate wipes the tears away as he tries to sober up; she slides her hands down his chest, finding his fists, clenched. She forces them open, spreading her fingers over his palms.
They're warm, and velvety, and so like him.
"That's not what it is," she explains.
"I'm blaming my annoyances to the wrong causes. I'm not explaining myself correctly." She huffs in frustration, losing herself in their clasped hands. "Because… maybe because I also feel like I'm the cause of this unbalance."
"Don't-"
"You've been so patient, always there, you want to bring me into your life and there's just so much more to that than what you imagine."
He nods along, coaxing her to continue.
"Before you, I couldn't imagine a future for my life that went past my eventual bed time." A shaky sigh tumbles past her lips at the memory of what her existence used to be, in the time before he came into her life.
"I was stuck in this endless loop that was just about getting through my day without getting shot. I was consumed by my need to find justice… but what about the rest of it all? What about the other parts of me?"
The tears begin to sting because this is tough to admit. She had been starving herself of it all and in reality the reason why she's so scared of this situation is that she might be wrong. She wants to believe that what she thinks they have is true and not a shallow front, that it's solid ground and not make believe. She's had a taste of happiness and she doesn't want this fairytale to end.
"Castle, you showed me that I could dream of relishing in fantasies that had been dormant inside of me; fantasies that could come true when I had denied myself for so many years, while I sunk myself in grief, remorse and anger."
Tears come spilling over her cheeks and now it's his turn to wipe them away. He pulls her to him; it doesn't feel like a signal to stop, but to continue, this time in the safety of his embrace.
"It scares me to think that we've run out of gas. I feel like I owe you my life in so many ways, and that scares me, because aside from stopping a bullet for you, what am I bringing into this relationship that makes this a fair ride, that keeps it going?"
She searches his eyes, and she hopes he can understand what she's about to say without taking it as an attack.
"Castle, what about you? Past the orchestration, do you ever stop and try to figure out that there's something about us that will never have a price anyone could pay for… but that could only belong to us? It's been almost a year. What happens next?"
"Kate…"
"No. Listen to me, Castle" She interrupts him, resolute, she needs it all out.
"This has been in the back of my mind and it wasn't up until I spent these couple of days without you that I figured it out. It was never about you taking me for granted, or me taking you for granted. I know there are days that I, ironically, complain about this but this relationship seems to revolve around me and what I need. There has to be a balance, there has to be a moment when the things you do stop being a reaction to a mistake… or to quickly resolve a situation. And I just don't know what I'm doing to make any of this better."
He takes a deep breath, she can tell he's collecting his thoughts as well, cracking his neck; it's late, tiredness has been showing for a while.
"Castle, where are we going?" She pushes.
"You know it kills me when you feel like you're not the most important thing in my life. That you don't already know where we are going." He combs her hair with his palms, massaging her scalp. "But I do understand when you feel like I have the attention span of a five year old."
She can't help the chuckle and he smiles back at her, kissing her forehead, sober. She can smell the mix of coffee and the remnants of soap on his clothes, and his own aroma. It feels familiar and safe in this place.
"Kate, I don't think you're a toy, I could never get tired of you because… you're the answer to everything I've ever hoped for." He continues, "I realized the other day when you saw my bucket list that I said I could cross 'Be with Kate' off of it, but in reality I could never. Because you're not a one off, a thing that I'd do and be satisfied with. I could never have enough of you. Maybe that comment gave you that impression and that's wrong. That's the first item on my list, yet it's the last one I hope to cross off."
She tries to think back to the moment she scanned the battered piece of paper, she should have paid more attention. Some detective she is. The words jumble in her mind, her memory challenging her patience as his hand pays exquisite attention to her, caressing her side, soothing reverence. She tries to remember the last item but he interrupts, answering her unspoken question.
"And it should read, 'Spend the rest of my life with Kate'."
And then the list doesn't really matter anymore. The meaning of such a statement doesn't escape her, her heart skips a couple of beats and she feels the burning sting of tears welling up.
"On the other hand, these fears that you have… I wish I could tell you that they are not logical, but they are." She focuses on his lips, because they're right at her eye level distracting her from his words. She closes her eyes and lets his voice seep through her psyche.
"This sense that you have to remain independent, it's probably justified, you're just protecting yourself. But let me make my case of why you should stick with this man-child."
She chuckles at his stab and he turns them, lifting her, sitting her on the table.
"I couldn't write a thing before you."
She looks at him in confusion but he signals her to be patient. He hands her the coffee again, it's not as hot anymore but she welcomes the drink.
"Well, yeah OK, I wrote many things, but never as real and as profound as what I've written since I met you."
"Nikki Heat is a slutty detective…" she says, pursing her lips and challenging his opinion of his creation.
"You haven't read my unpublished works, yet." He winks at her and all of a sudden a wave of butterflies flutter in her stomach at the anticipation that such writings exist and there's something of himself that he's offering to show her.
His hand slides back and forth on her thighs and he takes a drink of his own coffee.
"You know, sometimes I feel so overwhelmed by the relationship you now have with Alexis."
She cocks her head, smiling at his random announcement. She has to admit it; lately it has been good, really good. The girl has never had a mother, and she's never had a sister… it's a complicated feeling, but it works.
"What you have with her, it's better than it has ever been with any of my wives, even her own mother, which I believe shouldn't be a surprise since you've experienced the woman first hand."
She snickers against her cup, and shakes her head, memories of the days with Meredith reminding her that some of her doubts come from this woman.
"Katherine Beckett, you've given me things that may not be tangible but that are far more valuable than whatever I could buy." He finishes his coffee and settles the cup down. "But if you want to be petty about it let me tell you about the amount of money that following you around has put into my bank account."
She grins, his words easing her worries. "We still have to figure that out. I do believe I'm owed a healthy cut of that."
"You're a woman of business, I see." He kisses her jaw, and the touch of his lips on her skin is starting to wake her senses, but honesty is taking over and he's not finished yet.
"I've screwed myself sometimes, showing you sides of me that were so much less than what you deserved. I don't want you to think that I'm convinced that I've already got you and that I shouldn't break my back working for this."
She finishes her coffee and hands him the cup. He makes a show of shoving them away from their bodies; her thighs bracket his hips, his hands return to her body, finding refuge on the small of her back.
"You keep me in check, forcing me to be honorable and forget about my old ways, change for the better. You think you're the only person that had walls up? Don't think that I don't know about how you try to climb mines too… or maybe, plow through them..."
His nose caresses hers and she smiles, self-conscious. She wasn't really hiding that she's been trying to figure him out, but maybe he's also felt her presence invading his life, making him change just as much as he has changed her.
"This is what I do… my distraction mechanism," he says, shaking his head in admittance of his own guilt. "I joke; I pull out my smoke and mirrors to try to divert you from digging too deep. I… I just have my words and money to sway you and that means nothing at the end of the day. You on the other hand, have a gun to divert me from your walls. Really Kate, it's an unfair fight."
She laughs and nods, catching his lips in a hungry caress, their breaths lingering, mixing, in a thirst that shows unbridled.
"It's funny that you feel that you have to deserve me, when I feel the same way," he says when they separate.
"Maybe our problem is that we have to learn to deserve each other…"
The realization digs deep, his voice driving it home, perhaps this is what it is; they're children, they fear the same things unknowingly.
"I had no idea of what life could be until you presented yourself, showing me all that I could be, all that we are and will become." His hands caress her lower back, firmly, just the right amount of pressure, how he knows she loves. "And maybe I am pushing too hard some days, and giving you the wrong idea some others, but it's only because I can't wait to see more of the awesome sides of us, even when they are maddening and frustrating."
"Just promise that we won't stall…" her voice is small, as if she still clings to some basic fear.
"Kate, we're just starting this road." He clears the hair that cascades over her shoulders, kissing her neck, licking right behind her earlobe. "We'll just have to marathon it. I'll keep reminding myself not to break out into a sprint."
"You're not so good at running anyways…" she pokes him and he pinches her side.
"Hey, I'm almost there," He tickles her and she squirms, batting his hands away, but he holds on tight. "Just a couple of more weeks, just a couple of more salads, and you won't be quick enough to run away from me."
Everything in her smiles, growing slowly, from her eyes to her lips and his eyes twinkle back at her and she can't believe that they're here. Because, she knows it's stupid, but at the same time she's so grateful of her doubts, because they led them to this.
She lets out a contented sigh as he continues his massage on her back and her arms rise to pull him to her in a tight embrace. She wants him closer. Her ankles lock behind him, trapping him; her hands slide to the back of his neck as she nuzzles her way to his lips. She wants to drink in his breath until it burns.
"Do you want to get out of here?" he mumbles against her.
"Actually…" she says, and there's a hint of salaciousness in her voice that she's grown so accustomed to when it comes to them. It seemed foreign before, now it's hers. She sneaks her hands under the hem of his shirt and pulls it up, off him, exposing his golden skin to her. Her fingertips skim, caressing his broad chest.
"Oh, really?" He winks at her and she can feel the heat settling heavy on her muscles.
"Yes, really."
He smiles and embraces her again, continues firm in his touch, pulling her hips even closer and eliciting a groan when she feels him rigid against her, reverberating through them. This is them, this and so much more. His hands pull on her jacket. She pulls her arms out, fast; she wants to be closer, so much closer.
Castle lays her on top of the pool table, a giggle escapes her, amusement at his tender playfulness. His body crowds her, the weight resting carefully as he braces on his elbows. It's hot, and overwhelming and downright risky to be doing this here, but she doesn't care. She can't, not when his lips and hands are making her blood swirl, intoxicated with desire.
"Why do you have to drive me insane?" He says between kisses, his hands deftly unbuttoning her blouse.
Goosebumps appear as he makes contact with the skin of her torso, electric but full of tenderness.
"I thought you liked maddening…" She responds, half chuckling, half breathless.
"We're really…"
Another kiss, another pull; her nails rake down his back as his lips find the spot of her collarbone that renders her powerless.
"Screwed up?" She completes, finding her voice. Her hands roam his skin, soothing her sudden attack. She strokes every patch she can find, warmth from his body transmitting like a current through her.
"I was going to say basket case, but that works." Castle responds, smiling against the lace of her bra.
"Both fine examples of a mediocre use of language." Her hands stroke through his hair as he traces lazy wet paths on her skin with his tongue. "I must be clouding your wordsmith abilities." Or maybe she's the one with the cloudy vision. She can't tell anymore.
"Oh but you're mistaken, my lady," he says, looking up from his spot on her abdomen. "Like I said, you inspire me." His hand finds the waistband of her jeans and he slips in a finger, pulling on it, licking the brief span of skin he's uncovered.
"You inspire me in so many, many, many ways." He frees the button from its eyelet, grabbing onto the pants and yanking them off alongside her underwear, forcefully, surprising her. She tries to help the cause but he's taken over, again. This time though, she doesn't mind.
She hears the fabric and her shoes land somewhere close and he comes back to her.
"I do have to admit to some tunnel vision, though. Nothing really exists but you, and me, right now."
His hands explore her skin and even now, after almost a year of these wonderful encounters, she feels drunk on him, her senses exposed and raw.
"Castle, wait," she says, trying to regain some control.
"What is it?"
"Matthew…"
He gives her a sly smile, shakes his head and pushes one of the cups of her bra aside, licking one hard nipple until she withers under his touch.
"I thought you only wanted me."
"Castle!"
He switches his attention to the other nub, a hand on her back lifting her to him, angling her to into his mouth.
"I believe he waved goodbye around the time we were discussing how you can't live on popcorn."
She scoffs, but the shake of her chest only makes it worse as he sucks more firmly, greedier, purposely.
Still, she stops him.
He pulls his lips off her and his eyes search hers, a question lingering, forming behind the huge dark pools that his eyes have become.
He climbs higher, and their faces align, their heated breath on each other's lips.
"Do you want me to stop?" There's hesitation in his voice, but more concern than insecurity.
"No, just – I just," she says, caressing the shell of his right ear, softly, a reverential exploration, and there's marvel in his eyes, awe at the delicate touch of her fingertips on his skin.
"Give me one more second of this," she requests, and his eyes smile back at her, as if trying to meet the dreamy look she knows she's sporting.
He props himself up better on top of the table, grazing her skin slowly with the back of his fingers, his eyes meeting hers again, and she feels naked. Well, she is naked, but this is a different kind of exposure. She open to him right now, more open than she's been in a while.
He nuzzles the underside of her breast and kisses his way up to her lips, brief but solid, his eyes finding hers again.
"You're my addiction. I know that if I look into your eyes long enough, if I kiss you long enough, you'll take my breath away and I could possibly die." He confesses, as though this was the first time that he's allowed himself to realize it.
His hand travels down one of her arms and settles on her lower abdomen. Not intrusive, just there, a lingering touch, a brief caress, careful.
"Your skin… My hands feel as if they'd burn, but…"
She feels his hand twist, his fingers slowly sliding over her curls and dipping delicately between her folds.
"I can't stop…" he assures, as he circles her slowly, brewing calmly, building her up just like he knows she likes it. She gasps in surprise but he doesn't stop, he continues through in a steady pace that makes her blood race to her center. She's so wet; she knows she is, if the way his fingers glide over her is any indication.
"There's a reason why I named her Nikki Heat."
"Wow, corny, Castle…" She criticizes his humor but only half-heartedly… her breath is starting to come in shallow puffs as he continues with his ministrations. She allows herself to lean back and close her eyes, relishing in his touch.
"Yet, you love me exactly like this." And then she feels a touch that makes her jump out of her skin in intense delight. His tongue, firmly licking the length of her, his hands, stilling her hips and controlling her reactions.
She leans on her elbows, her eyes wide open in surprise. Now she wants to watch, and he throws her a glance from between her legs that makes her flush even more with desire. She might tease him with a number of fantasies and scenarios when she's playing in adventurous grounds, but right now she's doing something out of her own bucket list.
She's so turned on by this whole setting. Laying on the green felt of the table, the light centered on them, his touch revering her skin, the possibility of being caught. It attacks her senses with every caress; she feels so wanton, so free.
His tongue explores her deeply, he's suckling and licking, gently nipping patches of skin, stimulating, exciting; making her every sense stand on edge. She barely manages to shed her shirt and her hands are not nimble enough anymore to try and unhook her bra, especially when he's brought his fingers into the mix, one of them curling inside her and coiling her tight.
She chances a hand through his hair but he stills her, controlling, but she wants to touch him, so she holds his hand, the action provoking something in him. He savors her, murmuring sweet nothings against her skin and the vibration brings another ingredient to the mix, making her shiver. She braces herself, grasping one of the sides of the table as she notices that he's picked up on it, reading her tell. His fingers separate her folds, exposing the engorged nub and wrapping his lips around it. And there it is, that skillful vibration of his lips on her, his tongue lapping expertly at the exposed nerves.
She's about to come, the pressure is building up. She knows by the way her pelvis feels, as if there's a million sparklers bursting, a signal of the fireworks show that is about to start. There are some times when she lets herself go. Their sex is different every time; languid and sweet, or fiery and fast, filled with emotion many times, filled with excitement, and then there's this. Moments when she doesn't recognize any of it, and it dawns on her that it's all just a part of this new adventure, new experiences building up on the shoulders of their past.
One more stroke, one more velvety lick, one more moan against her core and her heart stops just enough to start itself again, fiercely calling to every ounce of life in her being. Electric jolts travel through her limbs, exploding in abstract shapes that appear behind her tightly shut eyelids, a movie playing in bright Technicolor. Heat spreads all over her, and the image of his smile, spread proud and wide as she comes out of her daze.
He looks at her with dreamy eyes, his cheek resting on her lower abdomen and his fingers leisurely caressing the delicate patch of skin of the inside of her thigh, calming the goose bumps still on her skin, the lingering sheen of sweat that makes her skin look as if aglow.
"Was it a good one?"
The laugh bubbles out of her and she nods, still unable to find her voice.
"I could tell. I've never heard you scream like that."
"I did not!" Crimson spreads over her cheeks, and he chuckles.
"Good thing no one is around, Kate, they could have called the police... whatever would LT say?"
She pushes herself off the table and pulls him into a wet kiss. She can taste herself on his lips, the flavor familiar from other kisses she's shared with him, but this time is different, she wants more, more abandon, more of him.
"I can tell you're so proud of yourself," she says against his lips.
"I am. But really, I'm just proud of us."
She smiles and nods in recognition. A year ago, what just took place and all of these feelings bursting out of their seams would sound like a joke. They were almost an impossibility. And now they're here, in a post coital glow in the middle of an empty bar.
"I want more," she says tugging down the waistband of his pants, pushing them off. He moans against her lips and she loves that he's so worked up, all because of her. He unhooks her bra at last, the straps sliding off her shoulders, and he grazes the sides of her breasts, causing a shiver to run down her sensitive skin.
"Can I have more?"
He kicks the pants off and the loafers he's wearing land elsewhere in the room, forgotten, not needed. Kate pulls him harder to her and twists him enough so that he joins her on top of the table. He lets out a breathy laugh; they're side to side under the spotlights, his hands caressing her sides.
"Help yourself to anything you'd like." His eyes are full of want, their blue sparkling under the light of the lamps. Her hand grazes the stubble that peppers his face, travels down his chest and his abdomen, muscles tightening and rippling under her touch. Her right hand travels south and she takes him in her hand. He's hot and hard and her mind takes off with a million of suggestions of the pleasure he gives her.
"Okay, you… oh, Kate," he manages to blurt, his grasp on her hips tighter, trying to hold on. He buries his forehead in her neck and breathes in a calming breath, his teeth grazing the flesh of her shoulder.
"You said to help myself," she snickers as she continues to carefully pump up and down. He's growing even harder, and she smirks in mischief.
"Keep that up…" he hisses, as if her touch were made of lava, melting him by her side.
"I know, I know. Okay, I'll be good," she says as she maneuvers her body from under the lamps to straddle him.
"I think that's exactly the problem."
They're close, so close to each other, she can feel him deftly probing at her entrance and she plays along, rubbing herself on him but not giving in just yet. It's her time to hiss, as the head of his erection hits an overly sensitized patch of her folds, so sensitive it's almost a whimper that escapes her lips.
"I need to be inside you, now Kate, I need you around me."
He's pleading, as if there's nothing else in the world that could save him from the wonderful hell that he appears to be enduring. And she can see the signs of how much he needs her; he's holding on to her, tight, perspiration covers his skin, beading on his forehead. She wants to play, but she also needs him, so much.
She reaches between them, holding him firm as she pushes down and he slides in, the little resistance giving way as he stretches her walls that protest ever so briefly and then trap him deep within her. She stays like that for a short moment, relishing in the sweet torture, enjoying the calm before the storm as he begins establishing a rhythm for them. His thrusts start long and thorough, an enjoyable cadence that is almost hypnotic.
His hands find her butt cheeks and he starts guiding her movements, just the right pressure, just the right speed, until the position is not enough for them. Each other knowing the other well, he lifts them off the side of the table and steadies them until they find proper footing. Turning her body to bend over the surface, he enters her again from behind, eliciting a yelp muffled by the felt, as she expresses her surprise.
He pounds faster and faster and the sound of the slap of their bodies is one of the sexiest sounds she's ever heard.
His hand traces her spine, every bump, every edge of her being massaged by this man. Every curve revered, every color of her turning for him, from innocent and rosy to the deep red of her blood pumping wildly in her veins.
He combs his fingers through her mane of hair and pushes the strands to the side, keeping the pace, licking the sweat that now falls from her skin. Licking, biting and soothing in a feverous cycle.
"Promise me; promise me…" he says, his phrase cut off by his groans. "Promise me that you'll always…"
He's losing control of himself but she wants to know.
"That I'll always…?" she asks, coaxing him, rotating her hips, driving him insane. He groans louder and stills her, coming once again to her ear and whispering.
"That you'll always push forward, that you'll come to me, every night, and we'll be this, our everything, my everything."
She turns her body just enough. She needs to kiss him. This man, this man that she's more than willing to give her everything to, this man… she just want him, so she kisses him, deeply, their tongues meeting and tasting, probing and coating.
This angle is new to her but it's perfect as he takes over, breaking the kiss. He's racing to the end, his brow scrunching in concentration, she's sure she's going to have all kinds of bruises tomorrow.
She reaches for him as she feels the familiar feeling building up in her core, the dizziness of her senses overloading.
"We're ready, Castle. We're ready," she says. And it's not just about the fact that he could flip the last draw of his body, touch her with his very skillful fingers, make every single cell quiver and ride into oblivion together. She's also referring to the start of all of it.
They're ready for the rest of their lives, together.
Everything explodes; light in a million blinding particles that blow her mind, a show of what's to come.
Its 7:30 a.m. and she languidly wakes from too little sleep. The sheets are the perfect temperature, and the soft golden light of the morning spills in from the windows. He's there, a smile on his face, breakfast nearby.
They'll be alright; they own the courage to see this through. They'll prevail.
He sets the tray down on the bed, a mischievous spark in his eyes as he looks to her expectantly, his eyes darting back and forth between her eyes and the carefully put together meal.
She groans, she needs at least a couple coffees before she eats this much food. Still, he's made the effort and so, she will too. Languidly, she stretches and rises to a sitting position, about to scold him for going to the trouble when a bright glint catches her eye.
Sitting atop a mound of steaming, chocolate chip pancakes lies a shiny, lone key. She doesn't have to ask to know what it's for.
"So? Will you?" he says softly, his eyes revealing everything that his well controlled voice doesn't. Unbridled hope and carefully held back fear.
She smiles, plucks the key from its bed of fluffy pancakes and curls her fingers around it, enjoying the weight of it in her palm. Surprisingly, she feels lighter for it. Unburdened by this next step, rather than afraid.
She looks up at him, a myriad of emotions going through his features, and she swears she can hear her heart pounding away.
"Too soon?" he probes.
"No. Just in time."
A/N:
KyInHI - I love you. That's enough, right?
Please pretty please leave your reviews! There's this pretty box, right under this text, go and give me a shout out! Love ya all!