'Cause it's too cold for you here and now
so let me hold both your hands in the holes of my sweater.
It's barely dawn when he wakes to a shiver coursing through his spine, the chill of the autumn air permeating his bedroom through the cracked window. He reaches for her, yearning to curl his hand around her hip and nudge his nose into the crook of her neck. A soft murmur of love is already waiting on his tongue, a drowsy habit he has no plans to break anytime soon.
His hand hits the mattress with a soft thud, pushing him into greater consciousness. He groans at the early hour — can't bear to open his eyes yet — so his hands fumble across the sheet for her. Sometimes she likes space when she sleeps, so she moves to the furthest point of her side. But the edge of the mattress is just as cool as the spot she usually occupies.
He shivers again, swipes at his eyes with the back of his hand. Way too fucking early.
He leans over the edge of his side and hooks his fingers in one of the sleeves of his hoodie, tossing it onto the bed. He slides it over his head as quickly as his sleep-drugged brain can muster.
He's not sure where he'd tossed his pants in his haste to get naked last night, so he braces himself and removes the comforter from his lap to grab a pair of sweatpants from the dresser. He dances into them, nearly tripping before he scrambles to shut the offending window.
He pads down the stairs, half-expects to hear the coffee dripping into the pot. But it's early – even for her – and the rapidly-cooling bed told him that she's been awake for more than just a few minutes.
The kitchen and the living room are both empty and look untouched in the early morning light.
But –
Oh.
He knows where she is.
He pulls a few of their favorite blankets from the hall closet, including an old woven plaid one that she adopted after their first time here. At over 15 years old, it's worn and nubby, battered by time, weathered by the beach. She likes the character as much as he does though, finds comfort and solace in the frayed edges and smattering of tiny holes. He doesn't know if they've become more alike the longer they've been together, or if parts of them are still unfurling, finally safe to make themselves known after the promise of forever.
With blankets tucked under his arm, he slips into a pair of sandals and makes his way out the door.
The early September morning is overcast and a little blustering, but doable with the right accoutrements. Rays of sun peek through the break in the clouds, threatening to spill over once more as they cling to the last vestiges of summer.
He relates all too well – it's the reason for their trip out here. Last winter was particularly brutal, a season he's not yet prepared to repeat, and they've been running ragged these last few weeks with case after case, each one more draining than the last. He'd suggested it after yet another interrupted weekend morning in bed, lazy mornings he cherished for the opportunity to take his time in worshipping her body —
Ahem. Among other things.
She'd been just as frustrated by the continued interruptions as he'd been and it'd taken no convincing to get her to use a few days of her sacred vacation time.
He finds her facing the ocean, her knees tucked into her, toes curled in the cool sand. She's scraped back her hair in a loose bun, but some of it's come loose in tangles around her face, bare and sun-kissed.
He drapes her blanket over her shoulders, eases her startle reflex with the sweep of his mouth against her forehead. She lets out a little sigh, reaching up to ruffle his hair before he collapses into the sand beside her, a blanket across his lap and over his shoulders.
"Hey," he murmurs.
She lifts her eyes to him, gives him a small smile. "Hey yourself," she says softly.
"You're up early," he observes.
"Yeah," she says quietly, licking the salty air from her lips before turning her attention back to the water. Wordlessly, she leans over and hooks her arm through his, resting her head on his shoulder.
"Kate?"
"Hmm?" she hums.
"You okay?" He caresses the skin of her palm with his thumb, catching the love lines before he fits his fingers through hers.
"Just tired," she heaves out on a sigh. "So very tired, Castle."
It's been a hellish few weeks, but he didn't notice the toll it's taken on her until he brought her out here — when her slim frame felt even smaller under his hands and the dark circles under her eyes more prominent than ever. He'd been walking around in a fog, too exhausted to notice.
He knows she can take care of herself and he probably hasn't been faring much better in the self-care department, but he still feels shitty.
Especially now that evidence of the state of her emotional health has itself wrapped around his body right now, distant and depleted.
"We could take a few more days," he rasps out.
"We could," she says slowly. "But what about for next time? This isn't gonna be the last non-stop train, Castle."
"No," he agrees. "Maybe – " he hesitates.
She kisses his shoulder, nudging him with her mouth. "Maybe what?"
"Maybe it's time for a change."
"The test?"
"You've been talking for months about taking your Captain's test, running your own precinct. What's stopping you?"
She lifts her head from his shoulder, eyes cloudy, hesitant. "Things are finally getting back to normal. You know, you went missing for months and I tried so hard to keep myself together, to keep pushing. And then you came back and it was great for a little while. We got married – "
"And then I was kicked out of the precinct," he finishes for her.
"Yeah. And we started putting the pieces together about where you'd gone for all that time. It's been so good lately, Castle, you know? I mean, yeah, these last few cases have ripped me apart."
She shakes her head, gives him a watery smile before she touches her forehead to his. "But you were there beside me the whole way."
He lifts his hand to her cheek, smudging a kiss across the bridge of her nose. "I'm not going anywhere, Kate. No fucking test or promotion's gonna change that."
"You don't know that. Regs will be tighter."
"Maybe."
"I just – I don't wanna upset the applecart."
"But look how well that worked out for me last time," he quips. She laughs, bright and beautiful, her forehead falling to rest against his cheek. "It could do the same for us, if you give it a chance. And when we have kids – "
Her breath hitches, bright eyes on his. She wants it just as bad as he does and some mornings he can practically taste it, what it would be like. But they haven't slowed down at all, not quite yet, and they can't bring a child into their crazy world until they've taken it down a notch or two.
"We have to slow down, Kate," he starts again, "To get the things we want."
"A baby," her voice cracks.
"We can do it," he promises. "We will. We've kicked life in the face so many times I've started to lose count. A career switch doesn't have anything on us, babe."
"God, we are badass, aren't we?"
He laughs. "So badass."
Her gaze is soft on his. "I love you, you know."
He feigns surprise. "Oh?"
She rolls her eyes, shoves her shoulder into his. "Yeah. But don't let it go to your head."
"Speaking of, can we please go back to bed now?" he whines.
She makes a face. "How is that speaking of – " She breaks off, startled and pleased, her eyes darkening under his patient stare.
She smirks, tugging at the inside of her cheek with her teeth. "I think that can be arranged."
At some point, I will be updating my stuff that's in-progress. I don't know when exactly that will be, but I have zero plans to leave anything unfinished. I also hope to finish them before updating them, so I can avoid this vicious cycle I seem to be in where I post and then disappear for months at a time.
I haven't written for the fandom in quite some time, but I still love reading what everyone's working on and I'm always grateful to be a part of this little community.
Much love,
Liv
Twitter: OliviaJRowe
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