Scratch and Claw
"Don't bother unpacking me," she laughs a little, staying his hand. Castle gives her a quirk of his lips in return, realizing what he was about to do, and he leaves her suitcase there in the foyer. Leaving in the morning. She's right; no point.
"You hungry?" He takes her hand instead, fingers twining around hers, playing.
"Starving, actually," she says, another smile like she can't help it. She looks good. Happier than she has in a while, if he's not totally biased.
"I was gonna order takeout. You good with that?"
"Yup. Chinese or Thai?" she teases. But yeah, she knows his usual habits.
He turns back to the kitchen island where he left the menu when he saw her walk in the door. "Uh, I think it was Thai."
"How about we make it Chinese. From Huan's. Thai won't be great for the plane in the morning."
Castle gives her a grimace in return. "Good point. Huan's is better." Get a good night's sleep that way, too. She's passing him and moving into the kitchen, pulling out wine glasses and placing them on the counter, getting a chilled bottle from the cooler.
"White?" she murmurs, but she's not really asking, is she? She's opening a drawer for a cork screw and he can't help watching her. Here. The grace in her movements, the surety. She's so settled, so at ease. How is that he sees it but she doesn't?
"What are we ordering?" she says, nodding to the menu.
He snaps to attention, shuffles to the living room for his phone, his back to her. "Steamed veggies, of course. And I know you like the sauteed cabbage, so that too. Preference on meat?" he asks, coming back to the kitchen as he starts to dial.
She's grinning at him when he looks up again, tipped off by her silence. He lifts his eyebrows, Huan's menu in his hand, the whole kitchen still between them, but she starts forward slowly, stepping deliberately until she reaches him.
"Kate?"
She wraps her arms around him and presses her body against his, a kiss along his chin that runs to his jaw and then his ear, a nip of her teeth.
"Kate."
"I missed you."
He clutches her waist with both hands, the menu and phone abandoned on the counter, and then he slides his palms up her back, embracing her.
"It's only been-"
"It's been too long," she refutes, her body warm against his, her arms tight. "Too long, Castle."
He suddenly thinks she's not talking about since he left her in DC.
Why is everything easier in New York?
He doesn't like to think that their relationship is contingent on geography.
They changed into pajamas while they waited on their food, getting comfy and settled in. Now Kate sits on his legs on the couch while he leans against the armrest, a carton of veggie lo mein on his stomach, diving into it with chopsticks. He bends his knee to jostle her and she misses her mouth with that sauteed cabbage. With a huff, Kate smacks his feet and digs her ass deeper into his legs, her bony ass against his shins until he yelps, and then they both grin.
They eat without speaking, watching a rerun of Celebrity Wife Swap even though he's pretty sure she's not paying much attention to it either, and he likes the way they've fallen back into old rhythms. She curls her warm hand around his socked foot and shakes it, and he wriggles his toes back under her touch.
He leans forward to switch out his carton of lo mein for the ginger-honey shrimp, that kick of spice they both enjoy, and he sees that half of it is gone already. She ate the chicken first, huh? He gives her a look and she curls a smile behind her chopsticks, puts the cabbage back and takes the lo mein.
He reaches out with his chopsticks and pokes her in the shoulder, startling her, a laugh like birds taking to the sky. She moves his direction, making him grunt with the force of her elbow into his midsection, and then she's putting her shoulder into his chest, nestling in, her legs splayed out along his.
She stops eating, lays her carton down on the floor by the couch, and stays tucked into his side, her fingers stroking over the pocket of his shirt, her eyes on the screen.
He sets his carton over the side as well, wraps his arms around her. They watch television, his chin resting on the top of her head, his heart beating slow to the feel of hers, everything aligned.
He's the one who has to nudge her awake. She's fallen asleep wedged between the couch and his body and he skims his fingertips over her cheekbone to rouse her. Kate hums and her eyes slip open, her body moving from liquid to taut in moments.
"Time for bed," he whispers. He's already turned off the television.
She sighs and shifts, unfolding her body slowly, and he watches until she's standing at the side of the couch and holding her hand out for him. "Come on," she murmurs, still sleep-fuzzy and exuding warmth.
He takes her hand and lets her draw him to his feet, follows after her down the hallway with their fingers hooked together. "Mm, need to brush my teeth," he mumbles.
"Me too," she sighs but stops, making him plow into her.
"Oof."
"My suitcase, darn," she mutters, twisting around. "Go on. Be there in a second."
He watches her, confused, as she heads back down the hall towards the entry, and then he realizes that everything is in her suitcase - including her toothbrush, face soap, all that stuff.
Castle moves on without her, shuffling into his bedroom and surveying what remains. Furniture, bedding, toiletries.
Actually, most everything remains. Maybe that's bad. Maybe it said to her he wasn't really in this and he always planned on coming back and-
Well, of course he did - they did. She was the one who suggested getting new stuff in DC (her eyes lighting up and her mouth smirking at the idea of shopping), leaving the loft as it was and having his mother be caretaker. She was the one who said they'd be back all the time, that they would need a place in the city for book signings and get togethers, functions and family visits.
So it really is okay that all of their stuff is here. She's even got boxes in the closet of things from her apartment that she didn't want to move. It's okay; it's supposed to be like this.
He feels her fingers at his back and jumps. She's passing him on her way to the bathroom, a make-up bag in hand, tugging her toothbrush free. The fullness of his bedroom doesn't even make her pause, though she startles a little when she steps over the threshold. She goes straight for the sink and dumps her stuff on the counter, turning on the water to splash her face.
He watches for a moment longer, her nightly routine - make-up remover and face soap, water spilling down her cheeks and collecting at her throat, her lashes blinking in the mirror. She reaches out for a towel but it's not there; Castle jerks into action, opens the linen closet and grabs a clean one.
He hands it to her and she smiles at him, her shirt darkening with water now, and then she dries her face while Castle goes for his own toothbrush. They work side by side, brushing teeth, spitting, the water washing it down the bowl. Her toothbrush clangs in the metal holder and she skims her fingers at his waist as she turns back for the bedroom.
Castle catches her wrist, brings her hand up to his lips to kiss that tender spot at her pulse, then lays her palm at his heart.
She studies him a moment, too watchful, too knowing, and then Kate lifts on her toes and kisses him back, tasting like mint and freshness, like morning even though it's the deepest part of the night.
"Boba Fett nearly gave me a heart attack," she murmurs at his cheek, sliding back down his body. "Glad you didn't move him with us."
He laughs as she winks at him, slipping out past him and Fett both, and he watches her in the nightlight spilling out from the bathroom. Kate turns down the covers and crawls across his side to get to hers, slipping down between the sheets and turning to look at him.
He puts his toothbrush back, washes his face, dries off with the same towel she used. Castle flicks Fett's shoulder as he leaves, salute or warning, and then he joins Kate in bed.
She studies him with eyes at half-mast as he gets comfortable, one hand curled up under her cheek, and he leans over her for a good night kiss.
She hums and her lashes brush against his skin. "I set my alarm for us."
"Thanks," he says, unfurling a hand on the mattress between them.
Her eyes open again and she pushes her fingers out to rest in the cradle of his palm, sleepiness etched in the corners of her mouth. "Night, Rick."
"Until tomorrow, Kate."