The crisp fall weather hits the two of them as they leave the bar, noise and light spilling out onto the sidewalk as they pull on coats, the smooth leather of Kate's brushing his arm as she shrugs it over her shoulders and pulls her hair out from beneath the collar, pausing to stretch out from the couple hours spent crammed into a booth with the rest of the motley crew from the Twelfth.
She's a little drunk, he can tell, could halfway through the gathering as she began to lean against his side at the table, the fingers of one hand unconsciously lacing through his on the tabletop as the other held her beer over her lap, not quite reaching her mouth as she laughed at a teasing remark Lanie had thrown at Esposito. She's not a giggly drunk but she's lighter, airier, a more unburdened Beckett.
She lists toward him now still, her hand dangling near his like she wants to grab it but doesn't want to be the first to make the move towards PDA. He grins, snagging her fingers with his own and leans down to kiss her before she pulls back and makes a face at him.
"Let's walk," she offers, and he silently obliges, swinging their hands out in the direction of his place. A chill breeze hits them and Castle revels in the slight shiver that passes through him; loves the smell of the brisk air.
This has been his favorite season in the city since he was young but even moreso once he became a father. Walking back from the playground with Alexis as the sun dipped low into the sky a little earlier, casting an evening glow around them as his daughter begged him for hot cider; planning Halloween costumes far too early, carving pumpkins, eating too much seasonal candy as soon as the stores started to sell it.
He's overcome with the urge to share his thoughts, but she's silent against his side and he doesn't want to ruin the serene moment as he listens to the click of her heels against the pavement and the muted chatter and laughter of other pedestrians as they pass.
His thoughts drift to the fact that he gets to experience this fall with her, really with her – to sneak candy corn into her pancakes, to tug her towards him by the scarf, to kiss her and taste pumpkin on her tongue after one of those lattes that she always says are too sweet for her but drinks anyway. He's already seeing her eye-roll and tasting her mouth and suddenly his heart feels like it's going to burst and he finds himself slowing down and staring at her without realizing it. She tips her head back and looks at him, confused, cocking her head to one side.
"Castle?" She tugs on his hand as she starts to move forward and he stumbles after her, his brain still trying to work out what he wants to say.
"I love you," he blurts out, and she lets out a surprised laugh, the look in her eyes when she flicks them back to his face too tender for him to be offended by her reaction.
She cocks her eyebrow at him as she purses her lips, mirth barely contained. "Wow, what are you going to try when we get home tonight?"
"I just- I love this season," he attempts to explain, inhaling a breath of the cool air, but she nods before he can go any further.
"Me too." She says, turning her eyes to the street. "It was my mom's favorite. She loved to take walks in the fall - we'd go to a museum or something and then get hot chocolate, walk down Fifth Avenue. I loved it, seeing the beautiful autumn leaves in Central Park on one side of us and the stunning city architecture on the other." She releases his hand, wraps both arms around herself as another gust of wind blows their way. "Nothing like fall in New York City."
Castle stares at her as she smiles into the distance, realizes he might be holding his breath. He's still not used to these moments, the ones where she so easily offers bits of herself to him; he sometimes still feels the urge to take notes. He wants to write her now more than ever, wants the entire world to be able to see her the way he does.
They walk in silence for a few more blocks more, close to his loft now, and she sneaks her left hand into his coat pocket, wiggling her fingers around inside and he shoots her a look.
"You are such a handsy drunk," he says, and she huffs as he moves to maneuver his keys out of his back pocket.
"I am not drunk, Castle." She takes her hand out of his jacket only to swat him away and stick it into his jeans pocket, giving a pinch before fishing out his keys. She twirls them around her finger as he yelps, her lips a straight line of mirth again.
His face is disbelieving as they turn into his lobby, nodding hello to the doorman and heading back towards to the elevator.
"A sober Kate Beckett would never pinch my ass in public." He presses the button and rubs his backside for effect, turning to grab the keys from her.
"In public," she deadpans, holding the keys just out of reach behind her back. He advances on her just as the elevator dings and she slips past him, grinning now as he follows her and presses the button for his floor. The keys clatter against the railing in her hand when he presses her against the wall, tongue against her lips and then stroking the inside of her mouth, the warmth a welcome as the rest of her tingles from the lingering cool air outside.
They break apart when the elevator door opens on his floor, bodies hustling together towards his door and now she is more than eager to hand the keys over, mouth puffing warm air against the side of his neck as he fumbles with the lock.
She shrugs off her jacket when they're through the door, throwing it in the direction of the couch and her hands quickly go to helping him divest himself of his, her mouth on his again. He can feel her cold nose against his cheek and he's smiling into her kiss, flinging his jacket somewhere in the same direction as hers.
"What?" She pulls back, a little breathless, studying his face as she starts backing him in the direction of the bedroom. He's trying not to trip backwards, holding onto her waist, and his hands slide slowly under her sweater, feeling her shiver under his hands. He feels his back hit the doorframe and pulls her flush against himself instead of answering. Sucking her lip into his mouth, he reaches around her to flatten his palms against her back and she rolls her hips into his, impatient.
"Your hands are cold," she mumbles against his lips and he laughs, letting go and following her into the bedroom. She tugs off her sweater and he comes up behind her, hands mapping her stomach and fingertips skittering into the waistband of her jeans.
"I thought you were cold," he whispers into her ear and she arches her body against him, letting out a groan of protest when he removes his hands, but goes to help when they reach for her button and zipper, shimmying out of her pants and kicking them off her feet. She spins around to face him, hands unbuttoning his shirt at a fast, practiced pace and he pushes her closer and closer to the edge of the bed until the backs of her knees hit the mattress, sending her sprawling backwards as her hands leave the final button.
"Castle," she laughs after the initial oof, sitting up on her elbows and watching him shrug the shirt off. He goes to push her farther onto the bed, settling a leg in between hers as his mouth goes to her neck and she pushes on his shoulders, trying to get her hand between them, palming him none-too-lightly through his jeans when she finally succeeds. He lightly bites the tendon connecting her neck to her shoulder in retaliation, bringing out his tongue to lave the mark of his teeth as she hisses.
He sits up and lets her undo his belt, shucking his pants but moving backwards down the bed instead of back over her. She groans in frustration, grabbing one of his biceps and trying to drag him back up, but her grip grows slack when he presses two fingers against her underwear, legs flexing as she tries to move against his hand. He drags the scrap of fabric aside, drawing his fingers against her slick flesh and pressing against her again, flicking his eyes back up to her face to see her looking down her body at him through hooded eyes.
She makes a noise at him then, a very un-Beckett whine, and squirms her hips, trying to get him to move. He obliges by sliding his fingers slowly down and into her, her hips rising up to meet him and he twists his fingers, watches her eyes squeeze shut, her hand shooting out to blindly grab his wrist.
"Please." Her voice is halfway to ragged and he's momentarily distracted by her heaving chest as he gazes up her body, but she tugs on his wrist again and he complies, dragging his fingers out of her to grasp slickly against her hip. He tries to pull his boxers down with the other hand, Beckett wiggling out of her own underwear and then moving to help, wrapping her hand around him. His head bows down towards her body and he tenses, growling as she strokes her hand up and down his length.
She hikes a leg up to pull him closer and he's just as impatient as she is now, finally sliding into her, breath leaving the both of them in a sigh. He huffs out a laugh and looks up to see her lips curved into a smile as well – and it's a ridiculous moment to be struck by it, but on top of the arousal he can read painted across her face, she also just looks happy. To be here with him, in his bed, and he instinctually moves, the slick slide making her hands fly up to clutch at his back as they start to rock together.
His mouth lowers to her chest and he's annoyed to find fabric in the way, bringing up a hand to pull her bra aside and attach his mouth to a breast, tongue swirling, feeling her nails dig into his back as her hips try to spur his faster. The hand on her hip slides down her thigh as he lifts it, bringing his own knee up under her and twisting his hips, slamming into her harder.
Her hands suddenly fist in his hair as she drags his mouth up to hers, kissing him sloppily before just simply holding him there, breaths mingling. She makes a small mewling sound when he hits just the right spot once, twice, and then she snaps, hips flying up as she breaks around him, letting go of his face and grabbing blindly at his waist as her head tilts to the side and she comes with a wordless cry. He follows after a few moments, breathing hotly into her neck, hand still gripping her leg hard enough to leave a bruise.
He finally rolls over and off her, looking over as she stretches out her legs and frees herself from her tangle of a bra, letting it drop over the side of the bed.
"See?" He says and she rolls on her side to face him, propping herself up on an elbow. "Handsy drunk."
She rolls her eyes and flops down onto the pillow but he grins, not even her display can distract him from the slight pink in her cheeks and the relaxed sink of her body into his sheets.
"Hey, when is your next day off?" He asks and she turns her head toward him, cheek resting on the pillow, calculating.
"Next Saturday, I think. Why?"
"Wanna go to the Met? Get hot chocolate, walk down Fifth Ave?" Her eyes get a little wide and she just stares at him, eyes flicking away from his face and he feels a rumble of uncertainty in his chest for just a moment.
"Yes." Her eyes focus back on his face. "Yeah, Castle, that'd be great." He goes in to kiss her, lightly, pulling back just enough to be able to look her in eyes.
"Can I spike your hot chocolate?" he asks, and she laughs, shoving on his shoulder and leaning down to grab the sheets.
Fall is most definitely his favorite season.