Anon prompted: Beckett wears Castle's clothes for the first time


She senses he's gone as soon as she wakes up. She misses his warmth, his scent, the way his broad biceps curl protectively over her. The sunlight streaming in through the window in his bedroom means she's slept in, though the guilt is assuaged slightly by the overwhelming sense of relaxation that runs through her. Two weekends off in a row is a precious, precious blessing from the schedule gods, and though their trip to the Hamptons last weekend on the first one had been fun and exciting, a murder in Castle's backyard hadn't exactly allowed her to switch off from work. Maybe this weekend.

She skips out on wearing her own clothes (she brought a change over with her last night…and is tempted to leave it here for future use. It's time, isn't it?), and instead picks out a faded black t-shirt with a Derek Storm graphic on it, and a pair of his silk Thomas Nash boxers. He was right. They were amazingly comfortable. She might just have to steal both of these for the future. Especially the shirt, which he's clearly worn for years and is steeped in his essence. If she's cherries, he's leather and mahogany, a hint of honey and wood-smoke. It's all she can do not gather the shirt to her nose and sniff like a lunatic.

Instead she pads out in search of him, eager to see the expression on his face when realises she's appropriated his clothes.

"Castle?"

"In here." He calls out from his study, and now she can hear the insistent tapping of keys on his laptops, the pace evidently furious. She almost doesn't want to distract him, but she can't wait either.

She walks up and leans against the doorway, waiting for him to look up. He does a second later, and the reaction is all she hoped for. Gorgeous blue eyes traverse up her long lean legs, glazing over by the moment. The shirt is far too big and shapeless on her to be sexy, but one side of the neck slides of to one side, exposing her shoulder and the lines of her neck. She bites her lips, warmth flushing her cheeks as his mouth hangs open till his eyes lock with hers, full of love and wonderment and sheer physical lust too. Just what she'd hoped to see. What she'd never get tired of seeing.

In an instant, he's up and walking towards and her breath hitches slightly as his eyes grow hooded, arms encircling her, trapping her between his broad frame and doorway, his mouth plunging down as she leans up to meet him, one of her hands encircling his torso, the other on his face, drawing him to herself.

She doesn't know how long they spend making out like hormonal teenagers, but she loves it. Loves the feeling of him flush up against her body, his knee parting her legs, lost in the moment till they both withdraw simultaneously, out of breath and wickedly turned on.

"Now that's just not fair, Beckett." He tugs at his shirt.

"Who said I was playing fair?" She nibbles along the edge of his jawline, hands comfortably resting against the small of his back. "Does it mean I can keep the shirt?"

"You can wear any of my clothes you like…as long as you wear them here." He's no slouch, this quick-witted, whip-smart writer that she has fallen for.

"Guess I'll just have to start hanging around more often then." Her smile slips out before she can stop it at thought, the prospect of spending more time here, time with him. Time like this, lazy Saturday mornings, with coffee and attacking the crossword together, and her doing yoga while he lifts and slipping out for a walk in the sunshine, hand in hand…

"Guess so." His smile is just as broad and warm in return, eyes twinkling at the prospect.

She slips out from the encirclement of his arms, not quite ready to let him see what that tacit conversation had meant to her, walking towards the kitchen with an extra bounce in her step.

"Go back to work, Castle." She waves airily. "I'll bring you a coffee."


I wrote a few Caskett drabbles I've been meaning to post on here. Some prompted, others not.