Grounded

Chapter 5: Dayspring

by Lynn Saunders


In the glancing moments between sleep and wakefulness, John first becomes aware of how utterly comfortable he feels, and he burrows further into the pillows. His alarm hasn't yet sounded, but he's so thoroughly rested, and it's that unfamiliar feeling of peaceful, sated sleep that produces an immediate accompanying worry that he's late for work. His eyes snap open.

He is absolutely shocked to discover that he's still sprawled on Anna's sofa, that she's tucked against him with her face buried in his chest, her left leg threaded through his. They haven't so much as moved in the night. Her hair shines golden in the light from the lamp in the hall, and he can see her outline in profile against the fabric of his oxford shirt, her fine eyelashes and the point of her high cheekbone, the curved bow of her lips.

No morning light is visible through the eastern window, but it's late; he can feel it. He gingerly moves his wrist into his field of vision. A quarter past five. He can still make it to work on time, but barely. He strokes Anna's cheek carefully, and she stirs against him, giving a little smile when she realizes he's there.

"We slept together?" she asks sleepily, rubbing her eyes.

He stares at her for a moment, and she huffs an embarrassed laugh when she realizes just how that sounds. She grins, he hugs her close, and the intoxicating energy they seem to effortlessly generate pulses thick in the air between them.

She dips her head into the space between his neck and shoulder, and he brushes the hair from her face. "What's the matter?"

"People generally date for a while before they wake up together, Mr. Bates."

He nods thoughtfully. "They make small talk in coffee houses, you mean?"

She smirks at him. "And they go out properly to dinner."

"Well, I suppose I'll have to make it up to you."

"Tonight, then?"

He pretends to think about it, and she gives his shoulder a smack. He's never smiled so much with anyone in his life. He should feel flustered, he thinks. This should be awkward, but it's not. Waking up with someone new should mean worrying about morning breath and how long he is supposed to stay, fretting over exactly where the burgeoning relationship is headed, but he couldn't care less about any of that at the moment. He feels only peace and the warm crackle of the indescribable connection between them.

She takes his hand, turning his wrist over and making a worried noise when she sees the time. Still, she doesn't move away.

He smooths her hair and presses his lips to her temple. "It's early yet."

She looks skeptical, but she snugs back down against his chest for a few moments anyway. He leans in slowly, tipping her chin to meet him, brushing her nose tentatively with his, seeking permission. She lets his stubbled cheek rasp against hers, and when she closes the space between them, he kisses her breathless in the quiet hour before twilight.

He strokes her waist, and his long fingers search out the satiny strip of skin that's bared just above the waistband of her jeans. She sighs into his mouth and tugs at his hair, letting her thigh creep up over his hip. Carefully, a millimetre at a time, his hands dip under the hem of her jumper and up the curve of her back. When they come up for air, he rests his forehead against hers, holding his eyes shut for a moment.

Of course, today has to be his day to open the store. Otherwise, he'd have a whole extra hour, time enough to let fervent whispers and searching touches light a fire between them. On the other hand, he knows precisely where this is headed, can imagine exactly what would happen if they were allowed to continue to linger here together without any interfering responsibilities, and it's much too soon for all that.

Isn't it?

"Don't be late," she whispers, and he's not immediately sure whether she means for work or dinner.

He exhales roughly and dutifully separates himself from her, trying to be sensible, kissing her cheek before rising and wandering off down the hallway to find the loo. He runs the tap and splashes cold water onto his face, regarding himself in the mirror. The man reflected back to him is sleepy-eyed and smiling. He could definitely get used to this.

When he makes his way back out into the kitchen, Anna has a travel mug of earl grey waiting for him. The lid from last night's takeout container of lasagna is upside down on the floor, and tomato sauce is splatter-painted onto the fronts of the cabinets. He'd forgotten all about the cat's misadventure until this moment, and one look at her confirms that she had as well.

"No wonder Castle has been making himself scarce this morning," he observes.

Anna shrugs and laughs and practically shoves John through the door. He's in a bit of a daze as he makes the short walk to his flat for a shower, and he wears a smile even as the frosty December air greets him. It doesn't wane all day.


Anna drops the hoover and reaches the intercom at the third jarring alert, slightly out of breath from running to the door. She's been tidying her bedroom, though she does not readily acknowledge why. It's Gwen at the front door, of course.

"You have a key, you know," Anna says into the speaker without double checking.

"I prefer to be announced upon arrival."

Anna sighs and buzzes Gwen through, watching with a smile as she appears at the top of the stairs.

"I'll use it next time," she says.

"So you say every time."

Gwen follows Anna in through the door and chucks her work satchel onto the sofa from habit. She rummages around in it for a moment, eventually producing a brightly wrapped gift bag, which she extends to Anna with a meaningful grin. "To make amends," she explains mischievously.

Anna eyes her friend with suspicion. "You've brought me a giant box of condoms, haven't you?"

Gwen only shrugs innocently. "You'll have to open it to find out."

Anna smiles and rolls her eyes, taking the gift and moving the gaudy bow aside. The bag is filled to the brim with every shape, style, and color of prophylaxis imaginable.

"Lovely."

"I'm confident you'll need every last one."

Anna sifts through the bag and comes up with both glow-in-the-dark and flavored varieties, but she raises an eyebrow at the extra large options, the flashy metallic wrappers crinkling between her fingers.

"Here's hoping?" Gwen snickers gleefully. "We old married ladies have to live vicariously through someone."

Anna laughs aloud and hugs her friend. "Thank you," she says seriously. "Fancy a cuppa?"

"That's what I'm here for."

Soon, Gwen is settled into the bedside chair, munching thoughtfully on a chocolate biscuit. If she notices the unusually pristine condition of the bedroom, she does not mention it, and for that Anna is endlessly grateful. Gwen always knows just where to draw the line.

"So when do I get to see this dashing barista of yours?"

"It's not like you don't know where he works." Anna pops her head out of the closet for a moment. "And I don't know that he's my barista."

"Don't you?"

She quickly ducks back through the door to hide her blush. Even thinking the words makes her a little unsteady. She lets her fingertips linger over the hollow of her throat, and she remembers his lips trailing there, dipping between her collarbones as her head lolled back. She has told Gwen about yesterday's takeout dinner, but not about spending the night on the sofa, and that's a bit of a surprise. It's just all too new, and she has an inexplicable desire to keep this private, to hold the truth of it close for a little while longer. It's delicate and rare, as yet too extraordinary to name.

She pulls on an azure jumper - the one she wore last week, when she curled into the shop's fireside chair with her coffee and book and caught him staring. She steps out of the closet with an expectant face.

Gwen smiles over the rim of her teacup. "Perfect."


He's at her door by a quarter to seven as promised, bundled into his wool coat, the collar still turned up against the snow outside. Her flat feels so warm and inviting, and she's glowing, outlined in the soft light of the doorway, her beautiful hair falling in waves about her shoulders. She's wearing that distracting color again, just a shade darker than her ocean eyes, and he can't stop staring.

"Hello," he breathes, the creases around his eyes deepening with his smile.

"I'll just be two minutes," she says.

He blinks slowly and nods, but doesn't say that he'd wait a lifetime, though that's what he suspects already. He shrugs out of his coat and moves to hang it on the rack by the door as she rises on tiptoe to brush her lips against his cheek. The slide of her fingers against the back of his neck makes his hair stand on end, and there's just something about the way their eyes meet in the lamplight that proves his undoing. He kisses her then, pulling her close and crushing his mouth to hers right there in the doorway. She responds in kind, holding tight to fistfuls of his shirt, and he leans against the door jamb for balance. Finally, she tugs him inside. He kicks the door closed, and they're lost in a frenzy of activity as his coat hits the floor. Suddenly he finds that this thing between them is not only slow and carefully sensual, but also electric, as quick and hot as a new burst of flame.

They never make it to dinner. Instead, they stumble down the hall together. Their shoes land somewhere near the little kitchen. She pulls him along by the open ends of his dress shirt as he fumbles with the buttons at his wrists, and he accidentally backs her into the hall table, tipping a vase to the floor. Thankfully, it lands softly. They, on the other hand, do not. The bedroom chair's leg gives as they collapse onto the cushions, and she laughs heartily.

"I'll fix it," he murmurs against her neck. He gets the distinct impression that she couldn't care less.

Her knees settle on either side of his thighs as she moves onto his lap. His hands fit to the flare of her hips, and she pushes his shirt off over his shoulders with what appears to be, in his estimation, a surprisingly satisfied smirk, as if she likes what she sees - as if she's quite pleased with herself. God, he hopes so. Her small hands spread across his chest, and he groans.

This is escalating quickly, he thinks dreamily, watching her sigh and squirm as his palms slide flat across her navel. She reaches for his belt buckle, and he leans forward so that his lips brush her ear. He means to press an important question there, but he can't quite form the necessary words, distracted as he is by her roaming hands. He doesn't have to worry, though. Thankfully, she has it taken care of. She whispers roughly that she has protection, just in case, then dips her head with a smile. He marvels at the hot rush of desire that blooms tight in his chest as he realizes she's thought about him this way, and he strokes her cheek, tipping her chin so that he can see her eyes.

"Actually, so do I," he admits, swallowing hard. "Just in case."

They grin at one another before their lips meet again, and his hands drift further under her jumper, running up the arch of her back, fingerprinting her spine. She makes a frustrated noise and tugs the sweater off over her head, sighing in the low light of the bedroom. He smiles and slides his thick fingers under the straps at her shoulders.

He should tell her she's beautiful, but the words won't leave him. Truthfully, he's dreamed of this since he first caught sight of her in the coffee line, and he's utterly in awe that this is really happening. She reaches back to release the clasp of her bra, and he growls as the silky fabric gives.

Anna has plump, pert breasts, perfectly fitted to her petite frame, and pale pink nipples that match the blush of her cheeks. He kisses her lips softly, caressing her shoulder blades, letting his fingertips trail along her sides, until she finally takes his hands in hers and moves them around to cup the soft weight, her nipples peaking under his touch. She hums and wets her lips, and he tries to remember how to breathe.

The carefully-made bed is three paces away, fresh and inviting. He wants to see the duvet tangled at the foot, to rumple the sheets and leave her gasping with pleasure. The way her hips begin to roll subtly as he takes a nipple into his mouth gives him a fair idea that she would approve of this plan. His lips move to her neck, and as she hugs him close, he rises carefully with her slight weight held fast against him. She gives a surprised little squeak, tightening her grip on his shoulders. When he settles her gingerly onto the mattress, she pulls him with her.

Soon, he's kissing his way down the slope of her back as she sighs into her pillow, and she's melting under his touch, gripping the freshly laundered sheets as he tries to make her come out of herself in her orderly bed with the fingers of their right hands laced together and their jeans still on. He carefully untangles their hands long enough to work her fly open, and he teases her, his fingertips flirting with hem of her panties until she presses her bottom back against him. Then he's turning her, working her pants over her hips as she smiles saucily at him. He nips the tender flesh below her navel before dipping lower. Her knickers join the pile of clothing on the floor, and he settles between her legs as she squirms against him.

His name leaves her lips as he moves to taste her, and the pleading note in her voice drives him perilously close to the edge. He redoubles his efforts, knowing there's no way in hell he'll be able to last very long once she begins to touch him in earnest, and he wants so badly to make this good for her. He guesses correctly that it's been a long time for them both. She tugs at his hair, and he answers with a groan, pulling her thighs up over his shoulders and lapping at her until she cries out and goes limp beneath him.

He smiles giddily, resting his forehead against the slope of her abdomen, and she pets him as she comes back down. Finally, he finds the words he's been looking for all evening, and he whispers them between kisses as he moves back up her trembling body.

"You. Are. Exquisite."

She giggles and buries her face in his neck. He presses his nose to her hair, breathing in, and as he searches out her lips, her small fingers slide inside the fly of his boxer shorts. After that, there's nothing but the steady thrum of blood rushing through his veins, and he doesn't think for a long while.

She pushes at his chest, maneuvering him so that he's sitting back against the headboard, then she tugs at the rest of his clothing until there's nothing at all left between them. His fingers shake as he retrieves one of the little packets from her nightstand. He worries for just a moment, but she only smiles sweetly and moves to help him, biting her lip as she opens the distinctive gold wrapper.

He draws her near, and their lips meet as she moves into his embrace. He palms her shoulders and lets his hands slide over the creamy skin of her back, down to squeeze her buttocks. They both sigh as she sinks down onto him, and he's more than happy to let her select the right rhythm, stroking up in counterpoint with her. He draws his hands over her hips, across the flat of her belly and up to cup her face as she moves with him. She groans, tossing her hair, her eyes clamped shut in concentration. Seeing her this way leaves him panting, grasping desperately for the thin thread of his control.

Her breasts bob with their movements, and he leans forward to suckle her, remembering the look in her eyes when he did so earlier. Luckily, it seems to be just what she needs.

"John," she sighs, and he discovers he'd like to spend the rest of time finding new ways to make her say his name.

She shudders and gasps, digging her fingernails into his shoulders with her head tipped back, and she smiles when she comes. He follows her with a ragged moan, and they rest, holding tight to one another, their harsh breathing the only discernible noise.

Slowly, he realizes she's shaking against him. He sits up, concerned, but she's only giggling. He breaks into a relieved smile, dragging his fingers over the ticklish spot behind her knee with purpose, and her giggles turn to gasping, joyful laughter. He sighs happily and hugs her close before rising and weaving unsteadily to the loo.

When he returns, she's snugged down against her pillow, and she watches his nude form with frank interest as he approaches the bed and turns off the lamp. He leans over to kiss her before joining her under the covers, and he's never slept on this side of the bed before, but with her it feels perfect. He moves onto his back, fitting her tight against his chest, curling his left arm around her waist and tucking her head under his chin. She doesn't have to ask if he'll stay, and he doesn't need to question whether she wishes it.

His voice leaves him in a low, thick rumble. "This was quite a wonderful surprise."

She presses her lips to his collarbone. "Maybe I can find some other ways to surprise you later then, Mr. Bates."

His fingertips drift into the furrow between her breasts. "You naughty girl," he whispers as he rolls her, kissing her hotly in the dark as snow continues to fall beyond the windowpanes.


* For awesomegreentie.

* Special thanks to terriejane, giginutshell, and froggattcoyles for beta. Any mistakes are my own.

* giginutshell challenged me to write an AU fic in which Anna and Bates have sex/ Banarotica is produced by Chapter 5, rather than leaving readers on-edge for forever. You have her to thank for this.

* This chapter is dedicated to katamarann, who apparently shares my suspicion with regard to… ahem… sizing considerations. Bates definitely needs the ones in the gaudy gold wrapper, judging by that candid photo from a few months back. ;) If you're not reading Adventures in Solitude, you should be!

* I had a crazy week and kept you waiting longer than I should've for this chapter, so I hope it was worth the wait! I could've been a naughty writer and cut it in half, but I didn't. And I'm posting it on a Saturday night just for you, so I hope someone out there is reading. You're welcome.