A/N: Credit where credit is due- The characters are not mine, but I love them as though they were my own. The title is from a poem by e.e. cummings. Not beta-ed so all mistakes are solely mine.
Since Feeling Is First...
This was not how she wanted to wake up this morning. It was how too many of her mornings had started and given the current circumstances and the fact that she had resigned from her job, her career, just yesterday, there was no reason why the shrill ringing of her phone should be the thing pulling her from sleep at such an early hour.
Her body reacts first. Out of instinct, her hand twitches and her arm reaches for the nightstand before her brain can catch up. It's not until her fingertips hit empty, cold wood that her brain sparks to life. Immediately after processing the fact that her phone is not next to her bed where she always keeps it, she becomes conscious of the weight of an arm across her middle and the warmth of someone behind her.
"Good morning," he whispers just behind her ear. He tightens his grip on her, pulling her into him and her stomach tightens accordingly. Right. Oh.
She hums as a smile catches her lips. "Good morning." She lets her eyes drift closed again as she breathes in his scent from the pillow. His pillow? Her pillow?
"I think your phone is ringing. Do we care about that?" He kisses her neck once and she's not sure she cares about anything except his lips on her skin. As if by magic, the ringing stops and she grins lazily, triumphant.
"I don't hear any ringing." She laughs at his morning after voice. It's rough and quiet and sweet and ridiculously sexy and then he kisses the spot where her neck meets her shoulder and she's sure that this is how she wants to wake up every single morning for the rest of her life.
But suddenly the ringing is back and somehow louder than it had been the first time. Kate sighs and her shoulders sink as she lifts her head to listen for where the ringing is coming from. One call this early could have been a fluke, or a wrong number or anything really. But two calls at just after six is probably not good.
"I guess I should at least try to answer it," she grumbles as she starts to sit up. She wracks her brain for the last place she had put her phone- her jacket? No, couldn't be; the ringing was too close and her jacket was on the floor at the front door if she remembers correctly. Despite her best efforts, she blushes as she thinks of what took place at that door the night before.
She manages to move to the edge of the bed, clutching the deliciously soft sheet around her chest. Something she does mostly to get herself to focus enough to get out of bed. It certainly isn't a modesty thing; that had gone out the window sometime after she barged into his home and before they made it to his office. But she doesn't need Castle leering at her naked body and raising his eyebrow in the way that had led to their second and third rounds just hours earlier. She scans her immediate surroundings as her phone stops ringing again and the second call is sent to voicemail. She just needs a shirt or something, anything really, just enough to keep Castle at bay and lower the stakes a little.
"You know that this is exactly why voicemail was invented?" She shoots him a half-serious glare because he knows just as well as she does that given everything that has happened in the last three days, she should probably at least check to make sure it's not some sort of emergency.
"Oh really? And which part of this are you referring to exactly? The fact that it's 6:08 a.m.? Or that I have no idea where my phone is?" His lips turn up in the most evil way and he opens his mouth to reply just as the phone starts up again.
"I was leaning more toward how very naked you are at the moment. But those other reasons are good too." And then he really and genuinely winks at her. That cruel, cruel man winks at her after talking about how naked she is and she clutches the sheets tighter to her chest and her phone keeps ringing and where the hell did she put that damn thing anyway? "Why don't you try your jeans? Back, left pocket. Oh, and here." And just like that he grabs his shirt from the corner of the headboard, where it landed in all the glorious madness, and tosses the wine red button-up to her.
She catches it with one hand and bites her lip to keep from grinning. She slides the smooth fabric over her shoulders and begins to button it as she stands and looks around for her jeans. They certainly made a mess of things last night. His bedroom, and probably the path to it from the front door, is littered with clothes and shoes and- she snatches her bra from the doorknob it's caught on and tucks it under her arm for safe keeping. That is one thing she would rather not lose, she's probably going to need it at some point. She finds her jeans on the floor tangled with his and just as she grabs for them the phone stops again. But this time there is barely a delay between its silence and ringing as it blares again, and he was right, back, left pocket. She would be embarrassed about why he knows that but all of that vanishes when she looks at the screen of her phone to see a very nice picture of her and her best friend and the name "Lanie Parish" stated boldly across the top.
Oh no.
Castle sees the panic rush across her face and he sits up with concern. "Is everythi-"
"Hi Lanie," she answers. And his unfinished question is answered right then and there.
Then he watches Kate slip into his office.
"Kate Beckett, where the hell are you?" Lanie's voice is strong and no-nonsense as she half-yells over the phone.
As a police detective, Kate knows better than to hesitate at a question like that, it gives too much away, but she can't help it. What on earth is she supposed to say right now? "I- uh, I'm-" She stops herself before she says something stupid and takes a breath. "Where do you think I am, Lanie?"
Well, that wasn't exactly the smartest reply.
Lanie answers with a short exasperated laugh and Kate knows she's in for it. "Well, I know where you should be at six in the morning the day after you resigned from your job." And it's almost more teasing than it is malicious but Kate knows her friend is probably more than a little upset that she learned that information from someone other than Kate herself.
"I- I don't know-" She stops again. Not exactly a wordsmith this morning and she wonders for a moment how she made it thirty-odd years with these kind of conversation skills. She tries again, "I'm…" Really, what is she supposed to say? She can't lie. Well, she doesn't want to at least, but the prospect of telling Lanie the actual, honest-to-goodness truth is terrifying at the moment. "I'm-"
"And don't you dare say that you're at home because I will personally kick down the door in front of me to prove you wrong."
Oh. Right. Lanie would be at her front door. Because she resigned from her job and Esposito told Lanie and she's not home because she's in Richard Castle's loft and is that her shirt on the bookshelf? She runs a hand through her hair and sighs in resignation. "I'm at Castle's."
Kate can practically hear the ME grinning over the phone and all the bite in her tone is gone when she speaks again. "Girl, I'm going to need all the details tomorrow. And you owe me a drink for worrying me this morning."
"Deal," Kate lets out with a laugh. "Drinks tomorrow." And in that second, Kate feels the weight of everything press against her chest. "How's Javi?"
"Kate," Lanie's tone back to serious but gentle, "you know that boy would follow you blindly to the end of the earth. And he wouldn't regret it for a second. He's fine. A little worried about you, but fine."
"Good," she says, and just like that the weight lifts a little and she can breathe again.
"I'll let you get back to- um, whatever it was you were doing. But first, are you okay?"
Kate smiles at that, "I'm okay." And then, "I'm good. Thank you, Lanie."
Lanie's smirking tone returns and Kate can hear the city street in the background. "Details, Kate. All the details. Call me tomorrow."
"I will." Kate disconnects the call and lets her arm drop to her side, limp with exhaustion. She knows that she's incredibly lucky to have people like Lanie and Esposito and Ryan in her life but it's moments like these when the reminder is so strong that it tugs at her heart. And then there's Castle. Speaking of, she wonders if he has his ear pressed to the door, eavesdropping on her conversation. She makes her way back toward his bedroom and quietly opens the door.
He's not eavesdropping; he's lying in bed, just like she left him, except now he's leaning against the headboard and his expression is one of anxiety and faintly muffled concern that he's not doing a good job of hiding.
"Everything okay?"
"Yeah," she says as she saunters, yes saunters, over to the side of the bed. "Lanie was at my apartment. I guess Esposito told her that I resigned. She was just concerned. Everything's fine." She sets her phone down on the nightstand and crawls back into bed.
"Good," he breathes and the tension leaves his face. But he doesn't say anything else right away and that's so unlike him that it sparks just a tiny bit of panic in her. Her eyebrow raises of its own accord.
"Castle?"
"Can I say something?" His tone is serious and she readies herself for one of the many talks she knows they need to have.
"Of course."
His eyes roam over her whole body. She's sitting on her knees, on his bed, in his loft, after everything that has happened over the last three days, over the last four years, over the last eight hours, and she's the happiest she's ever been. And she's scared to death.
His lips creep up on one side like he can't keep it in anymore and all of a sudden his entire face beams happiness. "You look good in my shirt." And then he reaches out and tugs on the front of it to bring her closer and she goes willingly, with her whole heart. Because after the last eight hours, after the last three days, after the last four years, she knows exactly what she wants in this moment. It's that simple and that complicated. She wants to kiss him.
So she does.