Shut Your Eyes
.
She screams so loudly and in such abject terror at one in the morning that Castle bolts upright along with her.
"Hey, hey," he says, crawling over the covers and kneeling in front of her.
Kate's eyes are wide open and she looks awake but she doesn't seem to be able to recognise Castle at all. Her forehead is matted with sweat and she's breathing fast as if she's been running a marathon. When he grasps her shoulders, it only seems to add confusion to the fear and panic marring her features.
"Kate." He repeats her name over and over and then, just as suddenly as it had started, she goes limp in his arms and settles back down.
He watches her for a few minutes after readjusting the covers but she seems to have fallen back asleep with no indication that, ten minutes ago, she had scared the shit out of him.
.
Her phone rings at seven-thirty and Castle picks it up before it wakes her.
"Hello," he answers, as quietly as possible, "Detective Beckett's phone."
There is a slight pause on the other end and then, "Castle?"
It's Esposito.
"Uh yeah, it's me," Castle answers.
Another pause. "You know what?" Esposito starts, "I don't wanna know. No wait, actually I do."
"Is there a murder or something?" Castle interrupts.
"77th and Lex."
"Okay, I'll let her know," Castle says and then hangs up before Esposito can make any more comments. He looks down at Kate and sighs. He really doesn't want to have to wake her up but… "Kate," he says, kissing her softly on the lips, "Time to get up."
"What?" she replies groggily. He leans back as she pushes herself up into a sitting position. "What time is it?"
"7:36," he answers, "Esposito called."
She rubs her eyes. "And you answered?"
"We-ll…" At her look, he quickly says, "There's been an exciting murder!"
Kate rolls her eyes. "You'd better be coming up with a believable story as to why you were able to answer my phone this morning because when Lanie asks, I'll be siccing her on you."
.
"I'm coming home with you tonight," Castle declares without preamble as the elevator doors close, effectively trapping the two of them in there so that Kate would have no other option but to respond.
"In your dreams," she retorts immediately.
It's been a long day and he has no interest in chasing her out the door when they reach the ground floor. He pulls the emergency stop and the elevator lurches and stills.
"What the hell, Castle?" she says angrily.
He blocks her attempts to restart it. "Do you really not remember what happened last night?"
She averts her eyes. "I told you. I'm not ready to talk about it yet."
"No," he shakes his head, "Not that. The screaming and panic on your end that woke the both of us up at one o'clock in the morning?"
"What?" she looks at him sharply.
"You really don't remember waking up last night? I mean, your eyes were open and you were making noises…"
Kate squeezes her eyes shut. "I was probably hallucinating."
Now it's his turn to be confused. "Kate, I don't—"
"Can we talk about this somewhere else?" she gestures to the cramped space.
"Oh. Yeah," Castle restarts the elevator, "Sorry."
Castle gets his wish. They end up back at her apartment where, once again, they find themselves in her kitchen. Much further apart.
"Now can you explain?" he asks.
"Look, Castle, it's been awhile since I've lived with somebody and it's never happened while I've shared a bed with them so I'm really sorry you had to see that."
Castle furrows his eyebrows. "Kate, you don't have to be sorry. You're the one who woke up in the middle of the night in a panic."
"Yeah but I don't remember it afterwards." Kate sighs, "The last time I had night terrors and somebody was able to tell me was when my mom died. My dad used to come into my room every night."
"For how long?" Castle asks, eyes wide. "How long did you have them for?"
Kate shrugs. "A month, maybe—"
"—a month?"
"On and off," Kate adds, somewhat defensively. "The doctors told us they were trauma-based. They went away eventually."
"But you don't remember them in the morning," Castle states.
"No."
"So, presumably, you could be having them and not know it because nobody else is around to tell you."
"Castle, I don't—"
"These last two weeks have been pretty trauma-inducing," Castle continues, cutting her off, "And you haven't been getting enough sleep – and trust me, I know because I've had to bring you a lot more coffee… you could've been terrified every night and nobody…" He trails off. They both know what the end of that sentence would be. Nobody's been around to be with you.
Kate gets exasperated, "Don't be so melodramatic, Castle. It's not like I know they're happening."
"Kate. You were screaming—"
"—and I'm sorry you had to be there to experience it bu—"
"Oh my god, can you stop apologising?" Castle snaps. He's standing across from her at the kitchen counter.
She looks at him warily. "They'll pass."
"And until they do?"
Kate shrugs. "Don't have company over?"
Her attempt at banter is lost on him. "What did the doctors tell you to do back then?"
Kate turns her back to him, walks over to the fridge.
"Kate, you're not hungry."
"How do you know?" she challenges, even though it's true.
Castle walks over to her, gently closes the refrigerator door. "Why can't you just tell me?"
Kate crosses her arms. "There was some medication involved," she finally answers, knowing how goddamn persistent Castle could be.
"Did it work?"
"Sometimes."
He scrutinises her face. "What aren't you telling me?"
"Castle, forget it, okay? You and I went through the same things and you're completely fine so can't you just let this go and believe me when I say that I'm fine?"
"Actually," he counters, "I'm not fine. But when I feel like I'm not fine, I have Alexis who'll eat a carton of ice-cream with me while we watch a stupid movie and – yes – I even have my mother who talks to me so much about her issues that it takes my mind off of my own. Who do you have?"
"My dad and I talk, Castle," she answers.
"But not about anything like this," he says, "Because you wouldn't want to worry him. I bet he doesn't even know how close to death you were. I bet that for all he knows, there was a bomb threat in New York City and you were nowhere near it while it was counting down."
Kate glares at him, not giving him the satisfaction of a response. "I have Lanie," she says instead.
Castle nods. "Why don't you call her? I'm sure if you told her what was going on, she would come over here in a heartbeat."
"She's probably with Esposito right now," Kate replies, slightly uncomfortable with the way he's looking at her, "I don't want to interrupt her with this. Especially because it will pass." She continues before he can say anything else. "I'm going to take a shower now, Castle. You can let yourself out." A pause, then, "…please. Just go."
Castle turns on her computer once he hears the water running in her bathroom. He's never obeyed her orders and he certainly isn't planning to now.
Twenty minutes later, Kate jumps a little to find Castle sitting on her bed when she walks out of her bathroom. "Don't you have to go home to Alexis?" she asks, towelling off her hair.
"You know, the more I read about night terrors, the more convinced I am of staying."
"Castle."
"I already called my mother and Alexis."
"I asked you to leave."
"And you could hurt yourself without somebody here making sure you don't jump out of a window or something." He gives her a look. "It's true. I read about it on the internet."
"Well, if it's on the internet..." Kate rolls her eyes.
"And I figured out what you weren't willing to tell me." He continues when she doesn't say anything, "For somebody who gets frequent night terrors, it helps to wake them up before the time they usually tend to happen. It disrupts the sleep cycle."
She continues to ignore him and climbs into bed.
"So, what did your dad do? Stay up? Keep vigil by your doorway? Set an alarm clock?"
She pulls the covers down beside her, seemingly accepting defeat though she looks pissed about it. "Wake me up in ninety minutes."
.
"Hey," she says, opening the door for him.
"Are you still looking over the case?" he asks, taking off his jacket and hanging it up in the hall closet.
"No," she answers, "The details are starting to blur. I was planning on going to bed."
Every night, for the past week, after saying goodnight to Alexis, Castle had driven over to Kate's apartment in order to spend the night. As much as Kate tries to tell him not to, she knows that as long as she's still experiencing night terrors, he'll keep coming back night after night.
And he knows she's still having them. The one time he had forgotten to set the alarm, she had woken up thrashing and all he could do was comfort her with a hug. He keeps suggesting she go see a doctor but she continues to refuse, claiming that they'll refer her to a psychotherapist and she has no interest in sharing such personal events with a stranger.
Her continued stubbornness is why he now has a drawer of things at her place.
When she comes out of the washroom, after brushing her teeth, she strips out of the jeans she had been wearing in order to pull on a pair of shorts. Neither one of them is fazed that she's changing in front of him.
Still, she must have run out of her normal flesh-coloured, sensible pairs of panties because the ones she has on – red, lacy – serves to remind Castle how long it's been since they've had sex. Specifically, a week and two days. That first night she had asked him to stay.
"Kate," he says.
"Mhm," she answers without looking in his direction.
"Maybe we could try something else tonight." He walks over and helps her tug her t-shirt over her head. He stills her hand when she goes to reach for her cotton tank. "I read that stress can also contribute to the frequency of night terrors."
"You read that, huh?" She looks unimpressed.
His fingers lightly brush up and down her back. "I think you need to de-stress." His intentions are crystal clear.
She doesn't stop him when he strips out of his own clothes and he watches her pupils dilate as he presses her against him, applying pressure where she wants it most.
She's the one who ends up initiating the kiss, sucking at his lower lip while he pushes down the shorts she had just put on and those cursed panties that had started this whole thing in the first place. She has her arms around his neck and he winces when her nails dig into his back. His fault, of course, because his fingers had been sliding into her moist opening and he had just pressed down on her clit.
"I don't know what we're doing here, Castle," Kate says, tilting her head so that he has access to the smooth curve of her neck.
He starts guiding them backwards. "As long as one of us knows," he responds and in his head, he adds, 'Let me show you how much I love you.'
He lies her down on the bed and with her legs parted, settles between her thighs. "Look at me, Kate," he says.
She acquiesces and it's only then that he starts to slide into her. His shallow thrusts never go quite deep enough and she's writhing beneath him, just about ready to take matters into her own hands when—
She gasps in shock when he slams into her all the way. He stays there, pressed tight into her warmth and making sure she's still looking at him before he pulls out slowly and resumes the shallow movements. It's too much but not enough all at once and Kate can no longer concentrate on what he's doing, only knowing that the next time he sinks into her hard and deep, the sensation makes her throw her head back on a moan.
His rhythm continues this way, a seemingly random sequence of shallow thrusts before burying full length into her. He has to pin her hips down with his hands to prevent them from moving with him. Her breaths have turned into tortured moans and she's clinging to his arms, no longer able to keep her eyes open.
His own breathing is harsh and she knows he hasn't started moving again because he's trying to calm his own arousal. "Stay with me, Kate," he manages to say and she forces her eyes to reopen.
What she sees in his unwavering gaze is the commitment she's afraid of mixed in with the intimacy she craves. It startles her, makes her draw a sharp breath in.
It's this connection that he wants her to feel and he lets go of his vice-like grip of her hips then, her body immediately arching up against his. There's no way to slow the rush now; when he slams into her, her intense orgasm tangles with his and they both cry out their release. Her climax lasts well after his and when he leans down to fumble for her lips, his shifting angle only causes her grip on him to tighten as she continues to pulse and throb around him.
He spoons up against her afterwards and she lets out a sated sigh, tension and stress relieved. When he finally feels her relax into his arms, he says softly, "A slow build makes for a more spectacular ending."
He thinks he's being so subtle but Kate is well aware of the double meaning behind his words.
A/N: Night terrors exist, guys! For reals. I studied parasomnias in psych. (Of course, I only used the bits of treatment convenient for angsty/romance/awkward situations…)