No Sleep Tonight

"Did he seriously say we need to become detectives in the mystery of our marriage?" Castle laughs.

"Okay, it does sound. . ."

"Lame," he supplies easily, holding her hand as they cross the street. When he realizes he's doing it, he lets go, recognizing the draw of her shoulders up to her ears. "But, I get it. I think."

She laughs at him but takes his hand back, squeezing. "He did say we're on top of things. Better off than most."

"Because we figured out early on that we're hopeless? Great."

"He did not say hopeless."

"He very carefully did not say hopeless," he agrees. "It was just implied-"

She smacks his chest with their joined hands. "Shut up. We're not hopeless."

"I know," he says, smiling over at her, waiting until he sees her smile too.

"Although, I didn't need the tour of my limbic system," she murmurs with a raised eyebrow. "Because, really. Isn't it going to be completely screwed up while I'm pregnant anyway?"

He laughs at her, nudges their hands against her belly so he can stroke his thumb over BK. "Yeah, well, I did explain that you're far more self-controlled than most, and he shouldn't worry."

"I don't think that's what he had in mind when he told us about our homework."

Castle shrugs, not sure yet about their assignment, a little put off by the nervous tension churning in his stomach.

Sender and Receiver. Sounds simple. He speaks, she listens. She speaks, he listens. It's just what they're supposed to say that sounds so. . .

"Lame," she supplies, giving him a raised eyebrow. "I know. I think so too. But."

"But." He takes a cleansing breath. "We should."

"Now?" she asks.

"Uh. Okay."

"Since my dad's got Dash for the rest of the afternoon."

"Yeah, no, you're right. Sounds good. Okay. We're supposed to look at each other when we do."

"Right. So. . ." Kate trails off and he catches the look she throws him.

Yeah, extremely weird. But they can do this. It'll work. "So, let's go to the library."

"The library?" she laughs.

"It's a. . .safe space for both of us. Makes it kinda neutral. We can get one of the private rooms so we can talk but we won't. . ."

"Solve our problems with sex?" she bites out.

He sighs. "I meant that. . .in a good way."

"He agreed with you."

"He didn't agree with me. He said it was another form of communication."

Kate's silent and he squeezes her hand again, waits until she casts her eyes over to him.

"One that you, Kate Beckett, are very good at."

She cracks then, gives him an unwilling smile even as she shakes her head. "Fine. Okay. The library. Sex-free."

"Darn, actually. I have this really hot fantasy of making you-"

"Castle."

"Right. Sex-free."

"You go first," she says, the moment they enter the room.

"Really?" he whines, but drops into a chair.

She closes the door behind them and glances through the floor-to-ceiling glass windows. She hates doing this in a fishbowl. Kate moves to the table and sits down on top of it, her knee nudging his shoulder.

And then she realizes what she's doing.

He gives her a look, that raised eyebrow that used to be hers, but she's already dropping down into a chair and pressing her hands flat against the table. "Sorry. Go."

He flips his palms up, looking at them, and she looks too, can't believe they're really doing couples' therapy homework in their private library - the same place they take Dashiell when Castle has to do research because the kids' section is amazing.

"Take my hands," he prompts, cutting into her thoughts.

She slides her hands on top of his and he squeezes, but lets go, just like the therapist instructed them to do.

"What I appreciate about you," he starts slowly, and if she weren't so good at compartmentalizing, she'd be blushing. This is really ridiculous.

She waits, and he blinks as he looks at her.

"I feel stupid using their words."

She smiles softly at that. "Well, don't think less of me when I have to."

"I won't. I don't." He sighs. "You never stop, Kate. That's one thing I love. It also kills me sometimes, but you won't give up - not on this, us, Dash. The baby. You go after it, you keep going; you don't stop."

She blinks, lets out a long breath. "I thought you-"

"Not-uh. Not how this goes."

She grits her teeth. Right. Okay. "What I hear you saying is that you appreciate my stubbornnes and tendency towards obsession."

"Are you being serious?"

"Are you?" she says back.

"Yes. You wanted to do this now. I'm being serious."

"So am I. What-"

"This isn't the homework," he cuts her off. "You're supposed to say what you hear and then I'm supposed to deepen. So hush."

She shuts her mouth and glares at him, not sure this is what their therapist meant.

"This is so special to me because-" He laughs and shakes his head. "Let me try again. Okay. Seriously. It's important that you're stubborn and obsessive because it makes me feel safe."

Her mouth drops open.

His hands quiver under hers; he looks away.

"Castle."

He lifts his eyes, still says nothing.

"What does that mean?"

He shrugs and she feels a strange panic clawing at her chest; she wants to snag back one of her hands and press it against her heart, make sure it's still there. But at that moment, BK elbows her and shifts, and something in her shifts as well.

"Castle. Tell me how. How it makes you feel safe." There is something vital in knowing this. She can't explain it.

"Also - energized, like always ready to go," he says suddenly. "Both."

"Safe. Do safe first."

He huffs a little bit and his hands are fighting to curl, she can tell, because of the way they tremor under hers. But they're not supposed to hold on, just rest.

"It means you won't stop fighting for us. It means you won't give up. And so I can - I'm safe with you."

He doesn't say more, and she knows she won't get more. He has his own ways of shutting down. But that's enough. It's more than she can understand right now, but it means something. It does. He can finally relax; she is here for good.

She's supposed to mirror his comment now, tell what she's heard. "I heard you say that I make you feel safe. I heard. . .you know I won't ever give up on you, Castle."

Both their hands are trembling now, and she goes ahead and breaks the rules.

She pushes herself right into him, wraps her arms around his neck and holds on.

"Your turn," he murmurs after a moment, and then feels her slowly pull back. Her hands skate down his arms until her palms rest over his, and then without speaking their hands flip positions.

He grins at her and she gives him something a pleased grin back. His hands cover hers completely, and he never realized before how much bigger he is than her.

Well, he has, yes, he has, but-

This is different.

"I appreciate. . ." she starts softly, and then her cheeks flush and she apparently remembers they're supposed to be looking in each other's eyes because she starts over again, looking at him now. "What I appreciate about you, Rick. . ."

He has this instant of quick, dark panic that there's just nothing, absolutely nothing she appreciates, and he feels the ripple of agony that rips at his chest before her mouth opens again and her eyes set as she studies him and finally gets it out.

"You have all the words." She closes her mouth, frowns, opens it again, and the irony inherent in her speechlessness just about cracks him up. But she's still trying, and he stays silent until it's his turn.

Kate sighs, finally turns her gaze down to their hands and he feels her fingers tapping against his wrists, drumming. He bites his lip to keep from speaking out of turn, even though it would ease the way for her, because the therapist was strict about this.

Finally she nods, as if to herself and lifts her head. "I appreciate that you know how to make it make sense, you know how to say the things that should be said and you make it beautiful."

He quirks his lips at her and strokes his fingers over her wrists, unable to help himself. "I hear you saying that you love my writing."

She frowns, deep lines between her eyes and shakes her head. "Castle, no, I-" She stops and takes a breath, looks worried, and he doesn't know why. "Castle. This is special to me. Not just your writing. But having the words to say. . .that's special to me because it means you know me. It means I'm not alone; you're in this too."

He bites the inside of his mouth to keep from clutching at her, tugging her across the table and back into his arms. He can tell she's determined to keep eye contact, and he leans in a little, mirrors her statement.

"I heard you say that my words actually make it through to you," he says finally, clears his throat. "That's - special to me too. Important. Because sometimes I worry that nothing. . ."

"Don't," she says quickly, and she's shaking her head at him. "Now you know. It does get to me. This gets to me. I-"

"Now I know," he echoes, mirroring again he realizes, but now he sees why it's necessary. He has to actually speak the words aloud before he gets it, before it penetrates his dense head. "Kate-"

"No, just. . .leave it at that," she says, her voice quiet but laced with steel. "He said we'll talk about it next week. So. Leave it at that."

He nods, but it's just occurred to him that if she feels she's not alone, then there are times when she's gotten lonely. And he's helped. Somehow - he's been with her even when he didn't know she needed it.

They're not hopeless at all.

"Thought you were tired?"

Kate shakes her head and curls her hand at his neck, standing over him in his study. He lifts his laptop from his legs and puts it aside.

"Well, I am down for some of your favorite form of communication," he says, jumping to his feet.

She narrows her eyes at him, but lets him draw her in; his hands go to her back, knead the muscles along her spine. She groans and drops her forehead to his chest. "That's good."

"You are tired," he says softly, his mouth at her hair and moving down to brush her temple.

"Yeah, but I want you," she sighs, lacking all artifice when her body is both thrumming for him and on the hysterical edge of exhaustion. "I missed you today."

"Me, or just my hot body?"

"Oh, body. Definitely. And those hands. Ah, yeah, right there, Castle."

He bows over her for leverage, uses his knuckles to dig deep into her back. She tries to relax into it, but her spine arches and she brushes against him as she tries to keep her balance. He grunts and starts moving her back towards their bedroom.

"Come, let's get you to bed. Sleep."

"No sleep tonight," she shakes her head, trying for alluring, but probably falling flat. Last week's therapy session ended poorly, they spent all week being stupidly nasty to each other, but talking - at least there was talking - and she really, painfully misses him.

"Kate-"

"Not right now. I want this first, Castle. When I can have you, I feel like I - have you."

He swallows hard and stares at her, his hands stilling, and she shrugs her shoulders under his arms, tries to get him moving again; she doesn't want to talk about it. No more talking.

He comes in close and seals his mouth over hers, pulls her as close as the bump will allow, drives his thumbs down the side of her spine so that she arches into him again.

She groans into his mouth and suddenly she's already in their bedroom, his hands working at his clothes instead of her back, but that's good too.

That's really good.

Suddenly he starts chuckling; she lifts an eyebrow at him. He waves a hand as if to apologize and she pauses there, waiting.

When he's still humming and smirking to himself, she pulls away from him and lies on her side, head propped in her hand. "You gonna share with the class?"

"No, sorry, I just. . .something funny."

"Well, obviously," she drawls.

He turns towards her and strokes his hand up her arm. "I was thinking - okay, well, to be honest, not much thinking really. And then this popped into my head. . .I so appreciate your tongue."

Kate cracks up, dropping onto her back on the mattress, pressing her hand to her mouth to keep from giggling.

"What I heard you say," she starts, snorting as he raises up above her, shifts her to her side again. Not supposed to be on her back. "What I heard was you like that thing I do with my tongue."

"Uh-huh. And it's special to me, Beckett-"

She can't hold it back; the laughter bursts out of her and echoes in the room, mixing with the melody of his own as they ease closer, hands touching through the haze of mirth.

"Um, please do continue. It's special to you?"

"It's special to me. I can't even - there are no words for how special."

"How about you return the favor?"

"Do some physical mirroring?" he murmurs, already on the move.

"Lame," she murmurs. "But works for me."

It's not as hard as she thought. It's actually. . .easy.

Okay, no. It's not easy. It's work. But maybe it's because she's so willing to do the work, and he is too, that when they actually manage to do this - it feels so natural.

She grins at him from over the rim of her coffee mug. He startles, but then he grins back.

"Did we just. . ."

She nods. "Think so."

His turn to be speechless, which is cute, because he gets this dazed look on his face and his hands curl like he needs his computer and I swear, Kate, only twenty minutes to write.

"Go," she says, nodding towards the study.

If possible, his jaw drops even more.

"Go write, Castle," she says, laughing at him. "I told you. I got this."

"Won't make you late?" he says, and she hears it for what it is rather than for what she's always thought it means.

Will she be late to work if she takes Dashiell to preschool? and not Are you okay being his mom for the next twenty minutes or are you just going to prove all over again that your job is more important?

"No, won't make me late. And even if it does? I don't care."

He grins back at her, and then they both seem to realize that their exchange now makes that two in a row.

He jumps up from the kitchen table and smacks a kiss to her cheek with a grin much like his son's. "You and I are good at this, babe."

She quirks an eyebrow at him, but he just gets all smug and trails his fingers down her arm, circles her wrist.

"And you know I appreciate you taking him this morning so I can write - that's special to me-"

"Stop being sarcastic," she laughs, knocking his hand away but coming up and grabbing his ear to drag his mouth in close to hers. She kisses him because she wants to, and because, maybe, he wants to as well, and then she lets him go. "You're wasting time. Go write. Because you know I appreciate your words-"

He laughs as he leaves her at the table, his amusement echoing in the room and making Dashiell pop his head out from under the coffee table.

"Daddy?"

"Come with me, my man," she calls out, standing up from the table as well. "Let's get you dressed for preschool."

He meets her outside the station and she looks huffy, but not at him. At least there's that. Castle hands her the coffee and waits a moment before directing her towards the sidewalk.

"You brought the car?" she says, pressing the coffee cup against her breasts.

He shrugs through the flicker of defensiveness that flares in him, opens the passenger door for her. "You missed the dirty looks I got last week when we had to stand for the whole subway ride. As if being pregnant somehow precluded you from taking public transportation and I was a terrible person to insist on it."

She laughs at that, a puff of air really, but it counts. He'll take it. She's been on her feet all day, even if she is restricted to the 12th; he knows she's stood in front of the murder board. And no, he doesn't like it when they take the subway and she has to stand for the whole ride.

"Time for therapy," she mutters, but she takes his hand when he slides behind the wheel, squeezes.

"How's the case coming?"

"Torturous and slow. How's the novel?"

"Ditto," he grins. "Yay for us. You wanna switch jobs? We were supposed to walk around for a day in each other's shoes for homework, and I really don't think you going to a Black Pawn meeting encompassed the full experience of my day. You can write the book instead."

"Not a good idea. We've already established that I suck at character growth."

He barks out a laugh and turns his head towards her. She's grinning now too, gives him a little shrug.

He pulls out into traffic and realizes with a little jolt that she actually is letting him drive. Not even a comment. Not even a look; it's like she hasn't noticed she's not the one in control.

Ahh, it feels good.

"Guess what, Kate?"

"Chicken butt," she replies back, smirking at him.

He goes ahead and give her a laugh for that, shaking his head. "I think you're taking the 'switch places' thing a little too seriously. Besides, my jokes are not that corny."

"Oh yes they are. Ask your son. He thinks you're hilarious, and he's only two."

"Almost two."

"I was giving you a couple months, so it didn't sound so bad. What am I guessing?"

"Oh. I was going to say that you're actually doing pretty great with character growth, but now. . ."

He trails off and glances over at her; she's pushed her shoes off in the floorboard and has her legs crossed in the seat, the safety belt stretched over her belly. He can't help reaching out and stroking the curve that houses their unborn, can't help being proud of her, of him, of how much stronger their family already is because of these last few months.

"Thanks, Kate."

She presses her hand over his and laces their fingers together. "For what?"

He laughs and keeps his eyes on the traffic - wouldn't do to totally lose her respect behind the wheel. "You have to ask?"

He feels the catch of her breath, and then the vivid motion of the baby beneath their hands; he squeezes her fingers and has to clear his throat a few times before it comes out right.

"I appreciate you, and I hear what you're saying now, but more - more than that, Kate Beckett, I am so proud of us."

She lifts his hand to her lips and her kiss is pressed to the softness of his palm and then sealed between their skins.

When she speaks, it wraps around his heart and settles in. For life.

"Rick. I am so lucky to get to love you."

He hears it. He hears what she's saying.