They cook together - Kate on bacon and egg duty, Castle on pancake and strawberry duty. He manages to talk her into tasting a whole strawberry while he holds it in his fingers. Past that she allows no other cooking related hanky-panky despite his best efforts. He doesn't mind. The prosaic domesticity of cooking, of dancing about one another with such ease, is enough. The hope of future mornings twists in his stomach and fills him completely the way food never could.
They eat at the island standing up, almost wordlessly in a comical rush. Castle doesn't taste a thing. It could all be burned. He would have no idea. 'Her bed and then her shower' - those words are all he knows.
Kate is smiling at him with every bite. It's tight-lipped and she tries to cover it with her hand or fork but it sneaks out around the edges. It waves at him coyly when she's not standing guard. He tries not to grin back like some idiot baboon but to no avail. Then again why not? Why not let her just see all of it. She's seen it all before, knows already how much he loves her. She would be a fool not to and Kate Beckett is nobody's fool. So fine, he'll just wear it all over his face. Own it. No sense it trying to hide it now.
With every passing bite he gets more nervous. Him. Nervous. It's ridiculous. He's not in high school for heaven's sake. But this is Kate. He had better not screw this up or be overeager. Though judging by the hungry look she's been wearing that has nothing to do with the plate in front of her his enthusiasm will not be a problem.
They finish eating in a blink of an eye. Swallowing his last bite he considers picking her up, throwing her over his shoulder and hauling her into her bedroom. Right. Too much. He needs to tone it down.
Kate takes their plates and stacks them in the sink.
"I'll just rinse these and wash them later."
That's good. He just remembered the toothbrush he slipped in his back pocket earlier. Now is his chance to wash up. He excuses himself and makes a beeline to her bathroom.
IVIVIVIVIVI
In his haste Castle runs smack into the open vanity drawer. It will leave a bruise. It's so unlike Kate to leave a drawer pulled all the way out. She's a fastidious woman. He starts to close it and sees her reason why.
Half of the drawer is filled with her things: toothbrush, toothpaste, floss, cotton balls, Q-tips. The other half is completely empty except for a note written on the same post-it pad from her stationary he had used.
"This side's for you."
IVIVIVIVIVI
Kate is sitting crossed legged on the sofa with a look that could only be described as sheepish. He starts to speak but she beats him to it.
"You bought me flowers. They're beautiful."
Right. He'd forgotten all about those.
"You gave me a drawer."
"Half a drawer." She peers up at him through a dark fringe of lashes, lip pinned by her teeth.
"I love my half drawer." I love you.
Her lip makes a break for freedom.
"I love my flowers." She loves him.
"You do?" The words barely lift out of him they are so heavy.
"Yeah."
His fingers of their own volition find their way to her hairline, brush down her temple, hook her ear, and draw her nearer, foreheads almost touching. He has to pour some of the flood of happiness that is spilling over in his chest into her before it drowns him.
"I've seen a lot of drawers. This one's the best. This one's perfect." Lips against the hollow of her cheek murmur.
"Castle?"
"Hmm?"
"Shut up about the drawer and kiss me."
The serious urgency of her voice lights a fire in his blood. Tingles down his extremities and warms them.
He does as she says. He kisses hard. Nipping at her lip and roughly palming her neck. He told himself he wasn't going to be too eager but he can't stop. She doesn't seem to mind. Teeth clash against teeth and scrape. Tongues buffer and make everything right again. She grasps at his sleeve to draw him closer. The already wounded seam gashes open when she pulls and it rips halfway off his arm. He catches her surprised gasp with his mouth. It tastes like syrup and mingles on his tongue with the peppermint of his toothpaste.
He needs more of her, closer, harder; he needs to taste more than just her mouth. He's needy with her and every passing second only makes him more desperate. His fingers beg at her skin for alms, clutches at her t-shirt, pushing a hand up under the fabric. Completely in the way, it twists and pulls tight against her. She breaks away from him. He growls in protest until his eyes slide open and sees her tugging the offending shirt over her head. She's standing on her knees on the couch. Hmm, for that matter so is he. When did that happen?
Wow. She is so beautiful. Expanses of nearly perfect and unblemished skin punctuated with the scars that write the story of her life. He reaches for her. No longer pawing. Worshiping. Bone and flesh humming warm electricity under his hands. She doesn't move, doesn't say anything, just breathes harder with every brush of his fingertips.
He needs to see her laid completely bare before him, every bit of her. Yearns to learn every dip, every crevice of her body the same way he knows the rest of her. He'll work his way from the top down starting with her hair. There are just a few large pins holding it up but it takes his unskilled hands a moment to work them all out. His patience is rewarded with the fragrant cascade of tangled curls. He brushes through and lets his fingers get hung. Presses fingerprints into her scalp.
Still she says nothing but raises her hand to his chest, stills it over his heart, something dark and unfathomable clouding her eyes.
He fumbles pathetically at her bra clasp as if he were a fifteen year old before she rumbles a laugh and unhooks it herself. It has nothing to do with the slight thrilled tremor in his hands. She leaves it in place like a gift for him to unwrap. Unwrap it he does, one side then the other replacing lace with lips. His every exhalation rippling the surface of her skin like wind on water.
Her breath stutters and fingers come to splay and twitch at his back. He wants to drive her crazy. Make her just as wildly desperate as he is. Light fingers trail down her stomach slowly, dip in her navel. Tickling and causing her to hiss. Make her fingers curl. Oh yes, it's working.
He slips a finger into the waistband of her jeans and tugs. Finds a muscle in her neck and bites hard enough to get her attention, take her breath away, but not hurt her. She's positively gasping for air, heart thudding under his ear. Or maybe that is his own heartbeat? His thumb joins his index finger at the button, pushes together just right and it pops open. He's got her zipper halfway down, applying more pressure than expressly needed, when he finally breaks her.
"Castle!" It's a breathless warning.
He pulls away to find her eyes glassy and fearsome.
It stays him. Her voice and eyes act as a paralytic. He sees everything in those eyes. Witnesses his entire future divined there in crystal. It's taken devoted coaxing, fingers and mouth exercising delicate pressure to bring her breathless and she knocks the wind out of him with a look.
It's her turn now. She's yanking his shirt over his head with no help from him. He can't do anything but kneel, open-mouthed in wonder. How has he gotten so lucky?
IVIVIVIVIVI
Never has Richard Castle, conscious, stayed so quiet and still. Kate makes a metal note to save for later, for those times when he's vibrating with frenetic energy. She would laugh at his shocked immobility if it wasn't pared with a look of unbridled desire. Lust. She's seen this look in varying levels of revelation almost every day for the last twelve hundred days. It takes on a whole new meaning now. Now he's going to do something about it. It looks good on him.
She meant what she said. She wants him in her bed. The couch can come later but first she will have him there. She can't carry him, well, actually she can but she won't, so he'll have to find his legs and start moving.
"Can you walk?" It screeches out her throat much louder than she meant it.
It's a moronic question. No point in asking him anyway because she immediately covers his mouth with hers, stifling any possible answer. She thought she wanted to move but can't wait the 1.2 seconds for an answer. He does manage a nod. It's a terrible idea to wrench him to her but she does it anyway. This is not the way to get them off the couch. They both jump when flesh hits hot flesh. One of them loses their balance - she'll blame him later but it was probably her - and she doesn't even realize she's falling off the couch until elbow hits hard against wood, the coffee table gashes into her bare side and Castle lands with his full weight on top of her. Not the way she pictured him on top of her.
"Oh God, Beckett! Are you okay?"
"Ouch. Castle get off me."
"Are you bleeding?"
He moves off of her and she twists so she can get a better look at her side. It's gnarled and hot pink; the skin scraped up a half an inch wide and three inches long diagonally. It's going to produce a rainbow of a bruise but it's not deep enough to bleed.
"I'm fine."
His thumb runs down her rib far enough away from the offense that it doesn't sting. It does burn but in no way akin to pain.
"If we keep this up, Castle you're going to have to come up with one of your stories to explain to the guys why we're both beat to hell."
"Hmm… How 'bout we tell them it's from all the mind-blowing sex?"
"How 'bout no. I was thinking more along the lines of "Near-Fatal Car Accident Wounds Two.""
"They will never believe that. Too boring. At least let me throw in something about carjackers."
"As long as they believe it and doesn't involve me being naked I don't care what you tell them."
His eyes sweep down over her in a flash and an unauthorized blush rises hot in her cheeks when he does.
"You're naked."
"Yes. Thank you for stating the obvious. And I am only half naked."
"Well let's do something about that shall we?"
He has her jeans yanked down past her knees before she can say a word.
"Castle!"
He smirks with pride. Her exclamation does nothing to deter him from finishing his task. Kate jerks her head and eyes over toward the bedroom, her voice lost somewhere in the corner with her blue jeans. He processes her unspoken insistence and blazes a path, speaking breadcrumbs along the way.
"Right…" Her ankle.
"You…" Behind her knee.
"Want…" Along the lace at her hipbone.
"Me…" Her ribs.
"In…" Her sternum.
"Your bed." Her mouth.
No. She wants him here and now. The bed can wait. Silly idea anyway. The rug's fairly soft. Slight risk of carpet burns but what's one more abrasion? They'll get to the bed eventually.
"Come on."
What? He's standing over her. How'd she let him get so far away? He offers his hand and she's happy to have it. There seems to be something wrong with her legs. So unsteady. He notices and grins like an idiot at having made her literally weak at the knees. Point Castle. Not that she's keeping score.
They make it almost to the door and she pulls away. He glances back at her with slight trepidation as if all the sudden she's come to her senses and changed her mind. She throws him the fiercest, knee-buckling, sex-kitten of a smile she can possibly muster as a reassurance and saunters to the kitchen.
His eyes flare to near saucer proportions when she rounds the refrigerator door with whipped cream in hand. Oh, he's making this too easy. He messed with her. Now she just has to mess with him a little back. It's only right. With a flick of her thumb she pops the top off. It flies and skids to a stop somewhere on her kitchen floor. She tilts and sprays, candy sweet in her mouth.
"I want a taste." He growls and she'll be damned but it gives her a shiver.
She holds out the can to him but he grabs her face with both hands instead. He tastes her, the heat of him turning the sugar on her lips to caramel, melting them. When she drops the can it hits hard enough to leave a divot in the hardwood.
They're never going to make it to the bed.
A/N: That's all she wrote folks. Drive safe and don't forget to tip your waitress.
Special thanks to the amazing DeadPigeon who has been immensely supportive and a joy, the lovely chezchuckles who makes me want to be a better writer, HuntingPeace, AlwaysCastle, knittingeek, pealee and tiff098765, all of whom reviewed every chapter. Thank you to everyone who took the time to review, alert, favorite and/or just READ! I would also like to thank the academy… Just playing. I'm saving my Oscar speech for when that actually happens.