A/N: My entry for the CastleFicathon 2013. Because I'm a complete sap who loves mush and fluff and silly. There is no excuse for it, they are my weaknesses!
She wakes up in darkness with her head buried under a mountain of pillows and it takes a good deal of shimmying, not to mention a few prayers to the gods of yoga, to get herself out from under them.
Normally it would just be a case of huffing them one by one, up and over her head and springing from the bed with cat like reflexes before skipping merrily -also known as slinking off with a grin- into the bathroom knowing Castle will follow. But today there is this really unpleasant sodden cotton wool feeling in her mouth, thick and cloying and so very gross that she mushes her face into the pillow and tries to get away from the feel of her own tongue.
Today there is the cacophony of thunder rampaging in her head that can only be the after effects of a night spent getting roaring, outrageously and splendidly drunk!
So she rolls a little, shifts against the sheet that is sweaty and somehow knotted under her chin, shuffling away from the heat and the dead weight of her passed out partner plastered across her back.
She peeks her eyes open and regrets it immediately, shutting them tight again. It's almost stifling in the heat of his embrace and there is a streak of sunlight slicing through the technicolor curtains and pouring itself straight into her eyes.
If she wasn't awake before...
"Ugh..." She groans, twisting herself under his arm and turning to face the drooling man in the bed next to her. He looks peaceful, finally, and she sighs. It's almost worth the horrendous thudding in her skull to see him looking that calm and, in sleep, the lines of worry that have painted his face these last few months are virtually non existent.
She feels proud of herself, sometimes she can be good for him too. Her fingers feather across his forehead, smoothing away the hair that sticks to his skin, running her hand over his face and lifting the strands so they don't catch in his eyelashes. Her fingers spread and she palms his cheek, drawing back suddenly when he puffs out his lips and another splatter of saliva creeps over the edge of his mouth.
"Ew." She yanks her hand away and shudders, she loves him, she really does but that is just... "Ew."
Still, he is sort of cute when he's asleep and though the thunder in her head has been joined by lightning behind her eyes, she could lay here and watch him all day, minus the drool. He's been happier than she's seen him in a while and though today, well yesterday really, is a bit of a blur his idea for a few days downtime, a few days to get out of the city, really was just what they needed.
Kate feels her body loosen, slacken and stretch, elongating her limbs against the slightly rough turquoise sheets.
Her eyes snap open widely, suddenly and she realizes the sheets are the wrong color. The curtain is too and the bed in general is in completely the wrong place for them to be in the Hamptons.
She sits up too fast, the cold light of day and the bitch of a hangover hitting her squarely in the face and reminding her she isn't getting any younger. She can still drink him under the table, but damn if she doesn't pay for it the next day. But she squints, and this is definitely the wrong place, the wrong room, wrong bed and wrong sheets. There is no way Castle would sleep in sheets this scratchy, his thread count snobability is unrivaled and all in all everything about this situation is just wrong, wrong, wrong.
She has a horrible sense of deja vu and for a few seconds Kate freezes, listening intently for growling. When none comes and she realizes alcohol, rather than being drugged and offered as tiger bait, is the reason for this situation she grumbles under her breath and turns towards him.
"Castle." She raises up on her knees, dragging the sheet away from him and pokes him. He grunts, grunts like a teenage boy or a rutting pig, maybe a combination of the two. This loud, thoroughly unattractive snarf of a sound leaves his mouth and she grimaces. She clenches her teeth and flexes her jaw in annoyance as that horrible noise bounces around the inside of her head and in retaliation she pokes him again. Harder.
Her fingers prods him in the squishy part of his shoulder and he grunts again, lifting his head from the pillow so quickly Kate flinches in sympathy for his neck, and then again for herself because she will be the one having to soothe away the ache with a massage at some point in the not too distant future.
"Castle." She barks again and this time his eyes actually open. Progress.
"I'm up, well not really but give me a minute to get the blood flowing and I'm sure I will be." His fingers find the inch of bare skin where her ribs have escaped the sheet and she narrows her eyes.
"Castle, I don't want sex."
"Then don't get up, Kate. And neither will I." He grins at his own dirty mouth and snuffles back into the pillow preparing to close his eyes. "Stay in bed with me, Kaaaate." He draws out her name on a long low hum, his arm loops around her waist and he starts to drift.
She reaches out to pinch him but freezes, catching sight of her finger and the glint that sits there in the light.
She's quite pleased with how calm she sounds given the level of panic and adrenalin surging through her blood, and stomping through her head, "Castle, where the hell are we?"
"Vegas baby." He mumbles, a sleepy grin stretching across his face before his mouth closes, his head flops back down onto the pillow and a loud obnoxious snore fills the room.
The ring is making a lot more sense now.