(Cover image belongs to Helen Owen on instagram. I claim no ownership and mean no harm in borrowing it for this story.)
l'amour est le miel
A 'Waking Up in Vegas' verse ficlet
"La vie est une fleur dont l'amour est le miel."
(Life is a flower of which love is the honey.)
– Victor Hugo
She might be exhausted, running on one too many cups of coffee to be healthy, and rethinking every answer she had given on the test, but she is free.
Finally.
How had she survived this quarter? Clearly by miracle, because the last few months have been frustrating, draining, and downright brutal. Either way, she is done, and free (except for work at the firm in New York, of course) for the next three and a half months.
And she is so ready to see her husband.
It's been weeks since their last visit – abbreviated as it was – and quick phone calls between book signings and study sessions will not cut it anymore. She doesn't even want to wait the four days until she's back in New York. She needs Rick.
"Hey stranger."
Pausing mid-stride, Kate searches for the source of the call. Campus is all but deserted at this point, making it easy to spot the yellow cab and the familiar – gorgeous – man leaning against the side of the vehicle. He lifts his eyebrows, a cocky grin carved into his features.
"Long time, no see," he calls, bouncing on the balls of his feet. Eager like a little boy.
"I–" she stammers, scrambling down the steps, practically tripping over herself to get to him. He catches her with a laugh, the cab at his back absorbing the impact of their colliding bodies. "Oh my god, what are you doing here?"
His answer is swallowed by the press of her mouth, the slide of her tongue over his lip, the tangle of her fingers in his hair. His breath mingles with hers, coming in ragged puffs against her lips by the time she releases him.
"Couldn't wait to see you," he rumbles, dropping his forehead to rest on hers. God, she knows the feeling. "I have a surprise for you."
Her heart taps a giddy rhythm against her ribs. "Yeah? Are you staying the week to help me pack? My roommate already moved out, you know," she adds, trailing a finger along the collar of his shirt. "So that means we have the apartment to ourselves for real."
"Mmm, not quite," he starts, thumbing her sides through her shirt. Oh, she can't wait to get him home and into her bed. "Give you a ride and I'll explain on the way?"
Kate's brow furrows. "The way? To my place? It's not that far, Rick. We can walk."
She watches a hint of pink creep up his neck. Rick opens his mouth to respond, but the cab driver beats him to it, jolting them apart with the horn.
"Look, buddy, meter's running. It's your money and all, but I'm burning gas. You coming or what?"
Rick's head bobs. "We're coming, we're coming." His lips skim her cheekbone before he pulls away and yanks the door open for her. "Trust me, Kate. You'll love this."
They've barely pulled away from the curb when he drops his surprise on her, handing over a slim piece of printed cardstock tucked into the dark blue book she recognizes from her desk drawer.
"My passport? Rick…"
"Look where we're going," he insists, nudging her to open her passport. Her eyes widen at their intended destination, and a protest rises to her lips. There's no way they can just go. She has to go back to her place, she has to take care of getting her stuff back to New York, she has to– "I let myself into your place and packed for you," he continues, sensing her reticence, "things I like and things you like, don't worry. And I arranged for a moving company to handle getting your apartment together and shipping most of your things home while we're gone. We'll take care of doing the final walk-through and turning in our keys when we get back."
Stunned, she can only stare at him, taking in the brilliant, eager flare in his eyes, the excited lift of his chest. He's insane, showing up to whisk her away after her finals, utterly certifiable. But she adores him just the same.
"This is insane," she murmurs, palming his cheek. Dipping his head, her husband's lips brush the inside of her wrist, quickening her breath, driving her half-crazy already. "You're nuts."
"Maybe," he grins against her skin, "but can't I treat my wife to a getaway to celebrate the end of another grueling quarter?"
Kate laughs, brushing her thumb over the skin beneath his eye. "I suppose I'll allow it, but Saint-Tropez? Rick, that's extravagant, especially for a spur of the moment trip."
His mouth collides with hers, flooding heat through her limbs. She lists into him, settling hard against his side as the cab takes another corner. "There is zero point to being a millionaire if I can't use the money to take care of and spoil the people I love."
"I know," she says, not wanting him to think she's unhappy or arguing. They've had similar discussions about splurges before, some more heated than others, but that's not what she wants right now. "I just want you to know I will get you back for this someday."
"I look forward to it," he murmurs, sliding gentle fingers into her hair, tasting her mouth again.
She nips at his lip, grins against his mouth. "I can't believe you're taking me to France on a whim."
Her husband chuckles. "You're gonna love it. I showed your mom some pictures of the hotel and she said she would pack a bag for herself, just in case you didn't want to go."
Laughter bubbles from her lips. "My mom would say that. She'd probably act on it, too. So don't tempt her."
Rick laughs harder, taking another kiss from her mouth. "Somehow I think your father would take issue with that – his wife running away to the French Riviera with his son-in-law."
She giggles. "Sounds like a plotline on Temptation Lane. You should pitch it and see if they can use it to bring back your mom's character."
"Now would that be for your benefit or my mother's?" he teases, thumbing her jawline.
Leaning into the touch, her lips lift. "Hmm, little of both."
"That's fair," he agrees, stealing one last kiss before slipping an arm around her, encouraging her to get comfortable for the remainder of the drive to the airport.
She wakes on the first full day of their stay to sunlight streaming through the tall windows in the living room. Their villa is gorgeous beyond words, modern but homey, the view breathtaking, and as much as she would like to stay pressed against her husband's side, the outside world is calling, enticing her out from under the covers to marvel at her surroundings.
Rick murmurs as she slips to the edge of the mattress, his fingers clasping in search of her while she pads to the bathroom and then to her suitcase to find clothing for the day. Thankfully, her husband hadn't been exaggerating when he said he'd packed more than just lingerie, and she pulls on a pair of cuffed denim shorts and a tank top over one of the (tiny) bathing suits Rick had included.
She makes a detour to the bed, brushing a kiss across her husband's brow, tenderness flooding her chest. He gives so much of himself, making time to visit her when she's at school, springing for trips for the two of them, all while working to craft some pretty amazing books. It's no wonder he's worn out (that, and they had thoroughly enjoyed each other the night before). She'll let him rest, even though every cell in her body wants to share this experience with him; there'll be time for that later.
"Gonna make coffee and head out to the balcony" she whispers, stroking soft fingers over his cheek, pressing a kiss to his mouth. His lips purse under hers, but he doesn't wake. "Come find me."
She hears the slap of his feet on the tile just as she's close to finishing her second cup of coffee and contemplating a third. Kate twists, leaning back against the railing to watch him lumber through the kitchen, bare chested, pajama pants slung low on his hips, his hair askew.
"Morning, sleepyhead," she calls, hiding her grin behind her coffee mug when he turns. "You look like you could use some of this."
Almost against his will, her husband yawns. "God, yes."
Kate abandons the railing and steps inside to meet him at the kitchenette counter, her fingers seeking the mug she'd left out for him. "I'll take pity on you," she teases, stretching up to kiss him. "I got it."
"Mmm, I love you."
"I know you do," Kate says, stealing another kiss before turning to make his coffee the way he likes, refilling her own in the process. "Love you, too."
His palm skims her back, lands on her hip as his mouth connects with her shoulder. "You were outside?"
"Yeah," she says, sinking back against him, lifting her coffee to her lips. "It's gorgeous here, Rick. The view? Breathtaking."
His lips are warm from his first sip of coffee when it touches the curve of her neck. "I agree."
She grins, bumping her head against his. "So charming, Mr. Castle. I bet you use that line on all your wives."
"Just the ones I really like," he quips, looping an arm around her waist, holding her tighter. His lips brush the curve of her neck.
"Funny man." Kate drawls, squirming away from his affection and taking his hand, leading him out to the balcony.
"Wow," he breathes, taking in the panorama of pink and orange, brilliant green, and sparkling blue. Kate nods, leaning back, fitting her body against him.
"Look at this place, Rick," she thumbs his hand, glancing up at him.
His head dips, his kiss gentle, quick. "I was talking about you. But this place is pretty good, too."
"Smooth," she says, knocking her head against his.
Rick chuckles, clearly pleased with himself. His arm tightens around her waist, keeping her close and sneaking soft kisses in between sips of coffee.
"You know, I never actually asked how your final went," he says after the whisper of wind through the trees has been replaced with the hum of life around them.
Leaning her cheek on his arm, she lifts a shoulder. "Oh, it was fine. I think I passed, which is all I could hope for after a quarter like that."
Putting their coffee aside, Rick's fingers slip into her hair, pressing gentle circles on her scalp. "Next one'll be better. Your classes won't be nearly as tedious."
He's right about that. With the completion of general chemistry, she's done with the basic courses and moving on to things more applicable to her major. But even then, she's not entirely sure everything will be better when school starts again. It'll still be stressful, plus–
"We'll still be on opposite ends of the country."
Rick's lips find her forehead. "I know, honey. We'll figure out a schedule, though. Better than the one we had this quarter."
It's not ideal, but what else is she going to do? Ask him to move to California? Move back to New York? Stanford has been her dream school since she was a kid, to transfer halfway through undergrad seems…
"Kate," he murmurs, lifting her chin. "We'll figure it out. And in the meantime, think of all the getaways we can take to help us get reacquainted at the end of each term."
Well, he has a point there. They certainly have been enjoying their reunion this time.
"That's true," she agrees, allowing his pragmatism to pull her from her funk. "I do like our trips. Even the staycations are good."
Rick nods, knowing he accomplished exactly what he set out to do. "Me too. And that's why I think we shouldn't worry so much about what happens in a few months. Because we will always have this."
It's cheesy - really cheesy - but somehow it's still sweet and sincere. Her arms wind around his neck, pulling his mouth to hers, opening to him when he kisses her back. Her husband rumbles her name, easing an arm around her waist to lift her onto the railing.
"Careful, careful," she warns, bracing her feet, holding tighter to his shoulders. Her balance is good, but there's something reckless about perching so high above the ground.
Rick steadies her, his body a solid wall between her knees. "I got you," he breathes, trailing his lips along her jaw, down her neck.
Kate sighs, palming the back of his head, giving him better access to her skin. After a moment, she feels the arc of his smile against her collarbone.
"You picked the blue one," he murmurs, kissing on either side of the bikini strap, slipping a finger underneath the elastic.
She puffs a laugh. The blue bikini is relatively simple, two triangles and a matching string bottom, but it's still bright and sexy. "Decided to save the others for later; black's such a popular color, I wouldn't want you to lose me in the crowd."
He grins, ducking his head lower. His lips trail over the hem of her tank top, teasing with dipping lower. "Like that could ever happen."
"Plus," she continues, sifting her fingers through his hair. Her foot makes a lazy stroke up the back of his thigh. "I don't think you could handle me in the black one right now."
He grunts, tightening his grip on her waist, cupping her breast through her shirt. "I can handle anything you've got."
Kate pulls him up, sealing her mouth over his, her lips insistent, greedy. "Show me, then." She arches into his hand, welcomes the heat of his palm through her shirt. "Show me, Rick."
It comes as no surprise when he lifts her off the railing and carries her inside, taking his sweet time proving it to her. When they do finally make it out to the beach, she's wearing the barely-there black and gold bikini, just to make his head spin.
Prompt from inmyveinsalways: The fluffy Friday, waking up in Vegas scene you did..I think it needs to be continued 😏😏