Disclosure

A/N: Fluff abounds, though not in the form of a kitten, in this case.

"Castle?"

He heard her soft voice whisper near his ear and felt her hand stroke back and forth across his chest. This was the best dream he'd ever had. Well, maybe not the best. There was that one with the handcuffs the night after the tiger almost ate them, and the one with her climbing on his shoulders wearing only her underwear right after the haunted house, and…

"Rick. Come on. Wake up."

His eyes popped open at her harsher tone. They met hers, which at the moment seemed tired, tempered by frustration, and possibly regret. It was hard to tell in the pitch black living room. He felt the warmth of her body where it made contact with his. She was tucked between his chest and the back of the couch, stretched out half on top of him. Oh, not a dream; decidedly not a dream.

And then he noticed those tormented eyes were rimmed with pink and slightly puffy lids, and it all came back to him. He'd told her. He'd told her everything; about her mysterious protector, about his keeping the case open behind her back, about knowing she was lying about not hearing him last May.

"Up, Rick." She patted the center of his chest. "Off the couch." She untucked herself from him and stood, looking back for him to follow.

What was that he heard, a clunk in the night? Oh yes, the sound of the other shoe dropping.

She was sending him home. Despite the kiss, she was kicking him out.

She'd been crying, for God's sake. He'd completely taken advantage of her with the kiss. How could he have been so stupid? She must have had time to think about it all while he was passed out under her, and she'd come to her senses. He shook himself slightly and started to rise.

"You're right. I should go. I'm… I'm sorry about all this. I shouldn't have come here like this in the middle of the night and – "

"Stop being ridiculous, and come get some sleep. It's only four. If we stay on the couch we won't be able to stand up straight in three hours."

She turned and took off toward her bedroom while he stood dumbstruck, mouth slightly agape, blinking very deliberately after her.

She turned when she reached the bedroom door and gave him her best expectant Beckett eyebrow raise.

"You coming, Castle?"

He tilted his head slightly toward her, closed his mouth, and started walking.

"Yes. Yes, I am."

"There's a new toothbrush in the top drawer by the sink." Her voice was all business. She was rooting around in the bottom drawer of her dresser when he entered her room.

Sweet baby kittens, he was in Kate Beckett's barely-lit bedroom. She had red sheets. Maybe this was, in fact, a dream after all. But if not, just the image of those sheets would fuel fantasies that could last him for years.

As he tore his eyes from her bed he saw she was staring at him from the other side with just a tiny upturn to the corner of her mouth.

"Here, you can wear these."

She tossed him a pair of sweatpants and a t-shirt that looked oddly… familiar… somehow.

"Hey, are these - ?"

"Yours, yes. They were the ones I wore when I stayed at the loft. They ended up with my pajamas by mistake when I left. Now go change so we can get some sleep."

When he reappeared moments later after repeating three hundred and forty-three, now -four, times that he would be sleeping with Beckett, in her bed, between her burgundy sheets, he found her under the covers on her back with her eyes closed.

"These smell like you." He pulled the neck of his t-shirt up over his nose and took a sniff.

"Hmm? You mean like my fabric softener? Yeah, I do laundry occasionally."

"No, I mean like you: sort of citrusy and spicy and Becketty."

"I may have occasionally slept in them since they migrated here."

With that he gave up all pretense of playing this cool and grinned. He knew he must look like an idiot, standing by her bed with one hand on the covers, beaming about the fact that she'd worn his clothes to bed, but he didn't care. She opened her eyes, pursed her lips and gave him half an eye roll.

"You could gloat slightly less about this, especially if you want to actually get to sleep in my bed."

He schooled his features back to mild glee and crawled under the covers. She was decidedly lying on one side of the bed, so he stuck to the other and reached over to turn out the light. Settling on his back, he tried to slow his breathing. It wasn't likely he would be resting much with all the thoughts running amok through his brain, but at least he could give that appearance and maybe she could sleep some.

"Rick?"

"Yeah."

"We're going to talk about this… whatever this is. Just not tonight, OK?"

"Promise?"

"I do."

He felt her shifting on the mattress and all of a sudden he felt her breath puff on his shoulder. Her hand found the center of his chest and her fingers curled slightly into the soft fabric over his heart. He felt her knee bump against the outside of his thigh as she curled further onto her side. He laid his own hand over hers and gripped it lightly with his fingertips.

"Goodnight Rick."

"I can't use my line, Kate."

"Hmm?"

"It's already tomorrow."

"Uh, well, yeah. That's true."

"How about, 'sweet dreams?' Too cliché? Maybe 'sleep tight?' Seems a little impersonal."

"Castle, inside voice. Talking tomorrow, sleeping now."

"Right. Wait, I've got it." He turned his head to look at her and realized how close she was.

"Oh good lord. If I had known you talk this much in bed I'd have left you on the couch."

"I love you, Kate."

Her fingers tightened around his, and she pressed her cheek against his shoulder. She spoke against his shirt, her shirt, their shirt.

"I think that will do just fine."

A/N: Mas? No mas? I leave it up to you, dear reader. The plot bunnies are circling.