DISCLAIMER: "Castle" and all its wonderful characters are the property of ABC and Andrew Marlowe. Much as I enjoy playing with them, I unfortunately do not own them. Please don't sue me.
All of the times, all of the ways he'd imagined this, and he never expected she'd be a cuddler.
For a time he'd fallen into the trap of imagining her as Detective Beckett. Commanding, in control, no-nonsense (well maybe a bit) in the bedroom. He'd imagined a romp in bed with her would be like an interrogation or maybe even a frenzied sparring match, fighting for control as they scrapped between the sheets. He'd imagined biting and nipping and burning flesh. Demanding kisses and torn clothing. Power and heat. That's how he wrote it.
And maybe that's what he would have gotten had she taken him up on his offer that first case. If she had allowed herself to be his conquest. She might have come home with him; sexy, teasing, confident Beckett still high on the thrill of finishing the case.
But she would have left his bed and gone on with her life. And she would have remained Detective Beckett to him, a pleasant memory of the time he had a copy cat, but nothing more.
He would have missed out on Kate.
And this is most certainly Kate, he thinks as she snuggles – snuggles! – into his side, still bleary from sleep.
The Kate who – he was surprised to find – is quite timid. Confident, yes, but tentative all the same. She let him lead, which was a definite first. Her affection was reverent. Marveling at every touch, every sensation. And when she met his eyes, breathless, she left him breathless as well. Because he couldn't have imagined being with her like this. A thousand fantasies never came close.
She looks up at him now, as the soft morning light shines through his bedroom window, like she's not sure where she is. But when she sees him, recognizes him, she smiles. A big, eyes-bright, toothy grin. It's contagious and he smiles right back, wondering if his own expression matches the dazzling glow of hers.
She laughs after a moment, unable to contain herself.
"Hey no laughing in the bedroom," he teases. "Could hurt a guys feelings."
She giggles – giggles! – and presses her face against his bare chest.
"You have nothing to be worried about Castle." Bubbly, unrestrained, so different from Detective Beckett.
"Good, we wouldn't want my ego to suffer."
She sniggers, wriggling closer. "Yes, because your fragile ego is in such need of stroking."
"No, but other things might need stroking."
She slaps his chest playfully in response, but dissolves into another round of giggles.
He likes seeing her this way. He likes, even now, being able to unravel the mystery that is Kate Beckett. There's a new facet of her personality to be uncovered at every turn.
This morning – the first of what he hopes is many morning afters – it's giddy Kate. And that makes him giddy as well, because he knows that it's all for him. Giddy, smiling, cuddling Kate is all his.
He couldn't think of a more perfect sight to wake up to. Her brilliant smile. Her hair tickling his chest. Her bare skin pressed up against his. The glow of her happiness warming him like the sun.
He wraps his arms around her and leans down to kiss the top of her head, knowing full well that she's still trying to hide her goofy smile from him. But there's no hiding it – the happy. The happiness that he shares with her. The proof that they finally took the leap and survived. More than survived.
He thinks this Kate is part of the real Kate. The one that got lost when her mother died. The one that he found and coaxed out of hiding. With patience and charm and love.
She's just another layer to the Beckett onion. But this an important layer – a defining layer. The woman who stares down gang bangers in the interrogation room like they are children. The woman who knows way too much about dom play. The woman who could kick his ass with her bare hands...is a cuddler.
A shameless cuddler.
A/N – For dav, because he needed a cuddle.
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Fight On and You'll Never Walk Alone