This may be my favorite.
I know I say that about all of them, but this time I mean it.

Really.

N

November

Kate woke, the sun intruding into the bedroom. She yawned, and instead of getting up like she knew she should, she rolled over into the body beside her, snuggling further into the warmth of the comforter. The man beside her shifted slightly. "Three more minutes," she mumbled, reaching for the covers when his movement caused them to fall a little. When she heard no answer, but a soft chuckle, she took that as acceptance and let the sleep pull her back in.

It was then she felt it:

The scratching on her chin.

She squirmed, completely involuntarily, and a small giggle escaped.

Giggle.
Kate Beckett did not giggle.
Not ever.
Not for any reason.

But she was a girl.
And she was very ticklish.

"Stop that," she mumbled again, snaking an arm around the white pillow she was using, protectively. The light itch continued, traveling from her chin to her cheek and then down her neck. Another giggle escaped. "Stop!" she said between fits of laughter, attempting to sound serious but to no effect.

"Good morning," Rick told her, still running kisses up and down her neck, lightly.

She grinned despite herself and turned onto her back, looking up at the man hovering above her. He had his arms holding his weight on either side of her head and his legs tangled with hers. "I was trying to sleep," she told him, trying to sound stern.

"I know. It was very un-Beckett-like, so I had to investigate," he told her earning another beautiful smile and musical laugh. When she turned her head, her hand threading her hair a bit, he planted another kiss on her exposed neck, brushing his chin against her deliberately.

She reached up with a hand, grabbing his chin, loosely. "You need to shave," she informed him, to which he replied with a kiss to her lips.

"Nope," he told her, smiling at her confusion. She maintained her hold on his chin a moment longer, scratching at his scruff lightly with her fingernails, lovingly.

"Why?" she asked, her bottom lip finding home between her front teeth.

"No-Shave November."

"Excuse me?"

"No-Shave November. The glorious month where shaving is not expected. From men, that is," he eyed her with a grin that was contagious. She released him and he planted a kiss on her jaw. She arched into the touch involuntarily, and she could feel the accomplished smiles in his kiss. "The boys and I are making it into a competition. Whoever has the longest beard by December 1st."

"I have to put up with that thing for a whole month?" She asked.

"Yep," he continued his ministrations. "You are so beautiful," he tells her, his eyes wandering to her body below him.

The hand that was once holding his chin found his arm beside her, her nails again working them up and down, soothingly. "What if I don't like it?" she asked him, curiously.

Her free hand found the nape of his neck, massaging with her nails until they were buried in his hair, pulling him closer and letting out a soft gasp when his mouth found the spot right above her clavicle.

"It'll grow on you," he replied without missing a beat, and she couldn't help but smile at the pun.

I hope you enjoyed reading it HALF as much as I did writing it.

ALSO- No-Shave November? TOTALLY a thing.
ALSO ALSO- please review for me?
ALSO-ALSO-ALSO- thank you for all your awesome reviews- seriously.

You are feeding my addiction, and trust me, I like to consider this a borderline healthy alternatives to other addictions I could be fighting at my oh-so impressionable age.
Instead of getting into all kinds of shanagens, I am writing. It's cheaper to support, too.
My parents have no idea how lucky they are.
Just saying.

Thanks.
Softer