December 11 - Road Before Us

We're snuggled up together
Like two birds of a feather would be
Let's take that road before us

-Sleigh Ride, Shel

"Mpf," she mutters into the pillow.

Castle rolls over her and snags her phone, answers with, "She'll be there. Text the address." She would be horrified he's answering her phone if she weren't so exhausted.

He hangs up and drops heavily down over her. She loses her breath, grunting, but she doesn't move, too tired to care.

"Body." Castle pokes her sides with his fingers. "Up, up. Get up."

"Too tired," she mumbles. It can't be much more than five in the morning. Her phone vibrates with the text, but she pushes back deeper into Castle's draped body.

"Gonna tickle you." No sooner does he say it than he's actually doing it, fingers on the move, and trapped as she is under him, she can barely get away.

She curses when he hits that one spot, jerks out of bed. She might have elbowed him in the face; he deserves it. That was a low blow.

He's burrowing into the covers. She narrows her eyes at him. "You're not getting up?"

"Oh, no. No more five a.m. wake up calls for me. I have been kicked out." He's snuggling down into her warm spot, cuddling her pillow. She could kill him cheerfully.

Kate mutters under her breath, moving around the bed to head for the bathroom, but at the foot, she pauses. A nasty thought comes into her head.

So mean.

So very cruel.

But she does it anyway.

Kate grips the comforter at the base and yanks it down, uncovering Castle and drawing away all that hoarded warmth. He gasps and sits bolt upright in bed, eyes so blue and startled, like maybe he really had fallen asleep just that fast, and she can't help laughing.

"You're - so mean," he gasps, melodramatic and wide-eyed. He's scrambling for the covers, hunched shoulders, wrapping the whole thing around him like a royal robe. "What was that for?"

"Tickling me."

"It was a warning shot only," he grumbles back, kicking out at her and catching her in the calf as she goes.

"Warning shots aren't supposed to hit their mark," she calls over her shoulder, sailing into the bathroom.

"Warning shots with you require a little more force!"

She flips on the shower and drowns him out, strips off her clothes before she can lose her nerve. She gives the nutcracker standing at attention the evil eye and steps into the shower, goose bumps racing across her skin despite the heated tile.

The water has just gotten hot when, out of the corner of her eye, she sees Castle reach his hand inside - she has that little warning. He flips the water to cold and she shrieks, jumping back out, colliding into his chest, a stupid and insufferable grin spreading his face.

He's chuckling and oh-so-pleased when he kisses her good morning, framing her face with his fingers, his pajamas getting damp where she's pressed against him for warmth.

"For that, you have to make my coffee," she mumbles, lips numbed by him.

"Nope," he grins. "I'm crawling back into bed. You go do work things, bring home the bacon. I got fired."

He puts her back down on her feet - when did she climb him? when the water turned icy? - and he turns around and leaves her there so that he can literally crawl back into bed and bury himself under the covers.

Stupid man.

She's going to miss him at work today.

She hates this case. Hates. This. Case.

Castle has millions; she could be one of those do-gooders, one of those white whale catchers who attends soirees and galas and donates generously of time and money. Why does she still do this - chase after killers? Why is she even here?

Beckett rolls her head on her neck, mutinous for just one moment, then she gives in and heads over to Esposito's desk to look at the photos again. She pulled back her hair into a knot sometime after the lunch she didn't actually eat, and for some reason the bun aches like a bruise at her spine. She went to bed after midnight, came into the 12th before six for another body drop, and now she's had three twelve hour days in a row.

She wants to just close this case, but the solve is frustratingly out of her reach.

Espo elbows her aside and finds the manila folder with their evidence photos from the crime scene, pushes it into her hands. Kate grimaces and slides the photos out, starts flipping through them.

"Maybe you should get some coffee," Espo says.

Kate blinks, lifts her eyes to the detective. "I should do what?"

"You know..." Espo shrugs, scowling. "Coffee."

Ryan clears his throat, shuffling up to them. "I could use some coffee. You making a coffee run in the break room?"

"No," she says reflexively, glancing between the two of them. Did he say break room extra loudly? "I'm not-"

"She is," Espo nods. "Because it's her turn. I got it last time."

"And I'm the one who got us all a round when we got back from the scene this morning," Ryan adds. "So yeah, your turn, Beckett."

Kate stares at them. She's pretty certain that Ryan did no such thing, although she's not entirely sure if she got her own coffee last or if Espo really did hand her a mug. He does that sometimes, picks up on the things Castle did for her when he was here and slides them in like it's no big deal.

"Okay, fine," she sighs. "I'm getting coffee." She shoves the stack of photos into Espo's chest and turns on her heel for the break room, rolling her eyes.

The blinds are all drawn, every single one across the break room windows - slats turned shut. Huh.

Kate twists the knob - when is the door ever closed? - and pushes inside only to stumble to a halt at the flickering darkness.

"Surprise."

Castle walks towards her with two thin glasses of something bubbly, the lights turned off in the break room and candles lit on every flat surface. He's covered the table with a red-checked cloth and laid out a dinner that smells amazing - and her stomach twists and growls in response.

"Rick," she murmurs, taking the glass from him automatically. "Are you allowed in here?"

"When has that ever stopped me?" He lifts his glass in cheers, but suddenly that's not enough, not nearly enough.

Kate wraps her arms around him, sloshing the champagne a little at his back, but she hangs on to him, burying her nose in his scratchy wool sweater, inhaling the scent of winter woods and cologne and their home.

"Hey there, Kate, you okay?" His free hand comes to cradle her head, lightly scratching at her scalp, combing down her hair to palm her back. "You're not crying, are you?"

She laughs, stepping back, shaking her head. "Not crying. Just - needed this break." She takes a sip of her champagne and finds it's actually sparkling cider - which she can consume on the job without a problem. "Mm, this is perfect."

He grins, lopsided. "It's just Chinese takeout."

"It's dinner, and I think I had a package of peanut M&Ms for lunch and a bag of doritos an hour later."

"That sounds delicious," he grins, taking her hand and leading her towards the table. "But maybe that's just me."

"I think that's just you," she says, settling down in the hard plastic chair of the break room. The break room transformed. "Thank you - for doing this."

"I got bored at home," he shrugs. But it's a big deal. It's thoughtful and Castle isn't always that good at knowing when the thoughtful thing is needed. He ambushes her with thoughtful sometimes, but it's usually in those times when a special occasion is de rigueur. The man knows how to celebrate Valentine's Day in tasteful and expensive fashion; she's looking forward to Christmas even as she dreads it.

But a random day, for no reason? He's sometimes a little too... dense for that.

"The boys help you with this?" she asks, watching him open takeout cartons.

"Just in sneaking me inside and getting you in here."

"They weren't subtle about it," she chuckles.

His eyes lift in acknowledgement, meet hers to share the amusement, and then drift back to the work of opening everything open. The savory scents mingle and spread, filling her breath, and she reaches out to help.

Castle slaps her hands away, and she startles with laughter, their gazes colliding once more.

"You sit, do nothing," he says, poking a finger her direction. "Just veg out and stuff your face."

She blinks at him, a vague surprise curling in her belly.

He smiles. "I know how you get in front of the murder board when it won't speak to you. So let your mind drift, I won't try to talk to you, eat."

"Actually," she says slowly, her hands folded in her lap, "that's Nikki."

"What?"

She swallows and lets her eyes trail off to the closed blinds, the perfect mood, the carefully arranged setting. "That's not me. That's Nikki Heat."

"I... she's based on you."

She flashes him a look and he cringes, and for a second she hates herself for even saying it. But the truth is better, she thinks. "She might be based on - on six years ago me, but now?"

She struggles to find words and Castle sits there with a look of both horror and fascinated revelation.

"But now?" he prompts.

Why is this so uncomfortable? To name it. She married him.

"The white board doesn't speak to me," she refutes. That's Nikki. "You speak to me."

Castle's jaw drops. Literally. She has left him speechless.

"We do it together," she says carefully. "We did..." She knows she slows down when she's flustered, that her words get spaced out. It drives Castle crazy because he's the opposite; he wants information overload, he wants her to just spit it out already.

"We did it together," he prompts.

Just give me a minute, she wants to snap. He's always crowding and sometimes she likes it, craves it, but sometimes it's this impediment to clear thinking.

"Kate? I don't-"

"Just - the mind meld, the back and forth, that thing that Lanie finds freaky," she rushes out. Stupid. That sounds so stupid. "We're supposed to do it together. We solve cases together and staring at the white board just makes me crazy."

"Then forget dinner. Let's go out there right now; you fill me in. We'll see what clicks." Castle is jumping up, grabbing for her hand, but she withdraws it, leans away.

If she says to him, I know it's late and Gates isn't here and we'd never get caught, but rules are rules, Castle would be crushed. He's been trying so hard to be good, to not screw this up for her like he did in DC, and she knows that; she can see how much he's been trying.

So she can't say that. She can't tell him to just follow the rules.

She goes at it sideways. "You seriously cannot expect me to walk away from Chinese takeout when I haven't even had lunch."

He laughs, but he's undeterred. "We'll take it with us. I'm dying for a good murder."

They used to do this together - just days ago. And doing it alone feels like regression. Two steps back.

Kate glances over the amazing, delicious food and sighs, snagging two cartons and getting to her feet. "Fine. Have it your way."

"Oh, but it's your way, didn't we just establish that?" He grins and wriggles his eyebrows, gathering three cartons himself, plus two forks. "Not Nikki Heat at all."

"And don't you forget it," she mutters, heading for the door. She yanks it open and at the sound, her two boys' heads lift, little prairie dogs poking their noses up for food. "Have at it, guys. Castle brought a ton."

"Yes!" Ryan and Espo fist bump and hustle forward, maneuvering around Castle as he comes out into the bullpen with her. They move for the white board and the case notes spread across her desk, and Castle takes his chair.

"All is right with the world," she murmurs, sitting down at her own desk and settling the takeout over it.

Castle flashes her a beaming smile, pretty pleased looking, and even if it's not as romantic as candlelight and a surprise picnic in the break room, it's somehow better.

"So what've we got?" he says with relish.

She roves her eyes over the white board. It won't talk to her; the elements don't magically coalesce into some beautiful answer. It's work. Just work. And it's the back and forth that she and Castle do over the difficult cases, building theory in layers until the key turns in the lock and the solution tumbles free.

It's a story and they write it together.

She won't deny either of them the chance tonight. Tomorrow brings problems of its own.