Disclaimer: Nope.
A/N: Another part of the shirt series. Beware of fluff. Enjoy.
Kate Beckett, NYPD Detective is a thief. She steals. She swears it's borrowing but no, she flat out steals and occasionally returns items only to take them again at a later date. Maybe it's good she works homicide and not robbery. He's guessing it is. How would one arrest oneself? Castle isn't sure. He's also not sure how to handle what he's witnessing.
He watched the crime take place this very morning. He saw as she snuck along quietly, assuming he didn't see her and he caught her red handed as she shrugged into his shirt. His. Not her own. No. She went into their closet and came out wrapped in a blue number he'd peeled her out of more than once. Yet she kept taking it. His shirt. His favorite blue oxford and she couldn't keep her sticky fingers off of it.
It's not that he minds. He doesn't so much. She steals and won't admit it. She won't own up to it. Says she doesn't take his things often but she does. And maybe it's one of the things he loves about her. Okay it is one of the many many things he adores but one day he's gonna make her admit that she wears his shirts more than her own when they're home. She uses his razor, his shaving cream even though she buys her own. She swipes his pillow at night if he wakes up to write. And he can just forget about having the blankets because she'll take those too. He's engaged to a thief.
But it's what he's seeing right now that has him utterly speechless. His thieving partner has been at it again. She's at his desk. His desk. With his laptop. And she's typing on it. Typing away as if she's the writer in their relationship. He's incapable of saying anything at the moment. Too distracted by the feet she's propped up, the way she's leaning back in his chair with the computer warming her thighs. She pauses to reach for the cup of coffee, and he loves this part. He loves watching her close her eyes, enjoy the first steamy sip and listen as the little hum of enjoyment slips out. Sometimes it's more of a moan - like now - and it gets his blood pumping.
He watches her place the hot beverage back on the solid surface and shove the sleeves of his shirt up to her elbows. Whatever she's commandeered his laptop for must take immense concentration. He almost leaves her alone. He almost turns away but no. No it's his and he's nosy. He wants to know how she ended up in his shirt, in his office, typing away.
He waltzes in, she ignores him. He's used to that. She does that when she's focused. It takes him stepping in behind her, pushing her hair to the side and kissing her neck to have her notice him.
"What are you doing?"
"You'll see." He glances up to catch a peek but she's saving the document. Closing it before he can read more than a few scattered words. He didn't even see what she saved it under. He'll search as soon as he can. It wasn't long. He'd seen empty space, a lot of it which meant it couldn't be long. "Don't delete it."
"You know you're in my chair, Beckett." He strokes his hands down over her shoulders as she sets the laptop back on his desk, the blue fabric heated from her skin. He doesn't mind when she takes his shirts. He gets them back and they smell like her.
"You gonna make me move, tough guy?" Just for that, he does. He grabs her up, swinging her around until she's cradled in his arms. He ignores her squealing protest and giggles as she fights him.
She pushes at him halfheartedly, settles into him the moment he steals the spot he'd just evicted her from. His chair. It's still warm. And so is she.
She's always so warm. And he loves her like this, when she just lets him hold her and presses her face into his neck. He can feel her kisses. Can feel the scrape of her teeth against his skin. His hand slides up her thigh, beneath the hem of his shirt just to tease her. Just to have her fingers clenching at his shoulder.
And his curiosity gets the best of him. He needs to know. He abandons the trail he was blazing, vowing to return after he pulls up the documents on his computer.
She knew he'd do this. She knew or she wouldn't be smiling against his jaw. She wouldn't be peppering kisses over his skin like she wants him to find it while she's right here in his arms. And when he sorts them by date, he sees that the most recent is simply titled "read me".
He clicks. Obeying the command she's given in written form. And his hand returns to her leg, slides up to cradle her hip. And he reads. It isn't long at all. She watches him, he can feel it. But he reads.
Babe,
I know you'll find this. You'll probably catch me before I'm even done typing and that's okay. I want you to read it. I want you to know that every single day I spend with you amazes me. Each hour, every minute, all of it. You've been there through everything. Even when I didn't want you to be. I know I've said some of this and it isn't news nor needed but I love you. More than anything. Completely and wholeheartedly. I love you. I love us. And I can't wait to marry you.
He doesn't even read the rest. Doesn't need to see her salutation or the way she typed her name, actually her full name. He catches the Katherine in his peripheral as he turns to face her.
It's nothing he doesn't already know. Not one thing and yet he's so madly in love with her in this moment and it all seems new and exciting. It gives him a rush and he catches her lips before she can say one word. A hard press of his mouth against hers.
"Just for that, I'll let you keep the shirt."
"I was hoping you'd ask for it back...or just take it."
He does. Right there. Against the desk with her words still up on the screen. He leaves her bare and panting with only his name on her lips and his ring on her finger. She's a very giving and loving thief.