Lean Wide Out the Window
Castle flinches at the alarm and groans as it radiates down through his body like a hot poker. Kate is already untangling herself from him with apologies as she clambers over and off the bed, snatching up her phone.
It's the phone. Her phone. It's the 12th. She's already grim and closing her eyes against it as she speaks to Ryan.
He slumps back into the mattress and tries to slow the rapid thump of his heart which pushes blood too hard through his leg. He feels it. He feels it brutally and he wishes her damn phone had never rung because then he would still be asleep and unaware of the ache but still warm with her.
"Sorry," she murmurs again. He feels her mouth brush his forehead. "Sorry. I have to go."
"I'll be fine," he says automatically, because he doesn't want to guilt her into sticking around when - as last night proved it - he can clearly function on his own. "I'm good."
He feels the cool relief of her fingers down the side of his face and opens his eyes to watch her shuck off her t-shirt. The seams have pressed lines into her body, places the material folded under her where she slept so hard, and she has a crease in her cheek from her pillow. Her hair is flat and straggling over her shoulders, her elbows and knees hard points in the grey, pre-dawn light.
She goes into the bathroom and doesn't shut the door; he hears the shower cut on first, the water pounding into the tile without obstacles, and faintly he listens to the sounds of her morning routine.
He must drift off because the next thing he knows, she's hovering over him and her hair is dripping wet against his chest, one drop at a time, making a wet spot at his sternum. He stares at her, not comprehending.
"I have to go in. Are you okay?"
"I'm good," he rasps, winces at the sandpaper in his voice. His mouth tastes funny.
She runs her fingers up his arm and rubs her thumb over his ear lobe. "You don't look good."
"Well, thanks," he says dryly.
"The bottle of pain pills is right here. And I got you a glass of water and your coffee."
"Oh," he startles, glancing over at the bedside table. His mug and a glass, the bottle, a paperback book he was pestering her about in the hospital. "Your book."
"I finished it. You'll like it."
He doesn't want to read. He wants to... something. "Okay."
"I'm sorry," she says again, and she looks so contrite that he sighs, can't do it to her.
"I'm fine. I'll just be sleeping anyway," he assures her.
She doesn't move, one hand planted next to his head, her hair still in a wet rope over her shoulder. She's braided it, and the dark stain of water mars her shirt as well. He's never seen her so indecisive.
He lifts his hand and wraps his fingers around her wrist near his head, turns to press a small kiss to that so-soft skin there. "Go, Kate. It'll be boring around here. Text me the interesting stuff. The Beckett-flavored stuff."
She gives him a small smile at that, and then swiftly leans over him, kisses him with tongue despite his morning breath, despite the way the pills make his mouth dry, despite everything. Deep. Thorough. Breathless.
And then she slides her hand out of his grip, fingers tangling for just a second, and she's gone.
He wakes from a dream about deadlines and broken fingers to the click of the door closing. His head is heavy on the pillow and he realizes the weak winter sunlight has crept over his face and wormed its way under his eyelids.
He groans and realizes he actually heard his front door close and he lifts on his elbow, rubbing a meaty hand down his face. He feels awkward and graceless and it's got to be nearly eleven if the sunlight is this far across his bed. When he turns and scans the room for clues, he sees the ragged-edged notebook paper propped up on his bedside table.
Castle forgets and tries to roll towards it, gasps when his knee torques against the movement. He groans and flops back onto the bed, breathes deep to push past it - he's not taking more pills, the pills make him too fuzzy - and then when the pitching black recedes, he sits up again. Carefully.
He manages to snag the paper and flips it open one-handed, reads his daughter's round, carefule print. Dad, Stopped by after class but you were asleep. Hung around until my chem lab. I'll see you tonight for dinner. Kate said she thinks she'll be back by six. Love you.
It's not signed, but there's a little heart instead of an 'o' in love and it makes him smile anyway. He wishes she would have woken him up; he's not sick. They keep treating him like he's sick. It's just his stupid broken knee, and then the pills knock him flat - steamrolled - and so it just maybe looks like he needs careful handling.
But he doesn't.
However, it is eleven o'clock in the morning and he's still in bed. He needs to get the meds out of his system and then he'll be okay; he can participate in his life again. He'll do his best to hold off on taking them today, maybe a half if he can't sleep tonight. He won't be stupid about it.
Castle lets his hand fall slowly back to the mattress, Alexis's note in his fist, and he blinks up at the strange shadows slicing across his ceiling. His body is heavy, the blankets making him hot, and he really should get up. It's nearly lunch time.
Well, he's already here. Maybe he could just sleep it off. Maybe he could close his eyes and rest a second more and then be ready for the day.
When she calls at lunch - late lunch - she gets a grunt for a greeting and a slurred question that she doesn't understand.
"Castle, are you still in bed? Were you asleep?" she murmurs, turning her back to the break room door and checking her watch. It's nearly one in the afternoon and the boys stopped to get take out.
"Sleep," he mumbles. "Yeah, what time's it?"
"Twelve-fifty," she sighs. "Have you had anything to eat?"
"Uh..."
She checks her watch again like it will say something different this time, and then she glances out the window towards the bullpen. They're waiting on a warrant and the results of a lab, they're in the middle of tracking down suppliers of men's black dress shoelaces, and she doesn't really have free time here.
"I think I fell back asleep," he says, sounding surprised.
"Okay, look. I'm going to run by Julio's and grab you some lunch. Just - stay there."
"No, I'm - you're in the middle of a case."
"It'll have to be fast," she agrees. "So unless you want to eat in bed, be ready when I get there."
She's already moving towards her desk, shouldering the phone so she can have her hands free as she grabs her wallet and keys, checks her weapon. She sees Gates watching her through the glass and Kate lifts two fingers, but of course it's going to take a lot longer than two minutes.
Gates gives a brisk nod and Kate's shrugging on her coat awkwardly as she heads for the elevator. Castle hasn't said a word in the time since.
"Castle? I'm hanging up now."
"Wait."
She punches the call button repeatedly; she needs to text the boys to cancel her order. It'll be lunch rush even at two in the afternoon, but Julio's won't be quite as bad. No one's discovered it.
"Castle?"
"Uh. Just. Can you get me roast beef on rye?"
"Yeah," she says softly, steps onto the elevator. Her signal dips and weakens, but she adjusts her coat, pockets her keys. "You get tomato, pickles... hm, no onions."
"But I like-" He goes silent for a heartbeat in which she can practically see his face. "I thought you said quick, Detective Beckett."
"Yes. But I also said be ready. You can do quick if you try hard enough."
She hears his chuckling crisp on the phone even as she loses reception. She can't help the lift of her lips as she brings her phone down and pulls up her messages. She types with her thumbs as the elevator deposits her in the lobby.
On my way. You're lucky I'm letting you have the pickles.
"I really don't have a whole lot of time," she murmurs to him.
Castle nods, her hair sliding at his cheek. Feels good. "I get it."
"I was mostly kidding," she whispers.
"You can eat in the car on your drive back," he hums at her skin.
She sighs. "I walked."
"Mistake, Beckett," he chuckles. He feels her fingers skirting his abs, already so quick to get under his shirt, and he flexes his hips in the wheelchair to hear that little caught-gasp of surprise come out of her mouth.
"Big mistake," she sighs.
She grazes his nose with her lips and moves to his other cheek, sucks lightly before her teeth nip. She's playful and a little pliant in his lap, and he wishes his leg wasn't stick straight in front of him, wishes she would straddle him and give them both a little afternoon de-
"I need to leave," she sighs. Her forehead drops to his shoulder, her fingers drumming against his shoulders for a second. "I don't want to, but-"
Her phone vibrates again on the kitchen counter and Castle figures out how to be the better man. He puts his hands on her hips and nudges her; he doesn't really have the leverage to push her away but she gets the hint.
Kate sighs again and lifts her head, her hair falling down from the bun she must have put it in this morning. He can't resist leaning in and kissing the sweet near-pout of her lips, and she opens for him immediately, eager to be irresponsible.
"No," he mumbles. "Be good."
"I am, I will. I am." She shifts now and slides slowly off his lap; he schools his features to keep her from knowing how badly that hurts him, the drag of her thigh over his leg, the weight of her pushing just a little too hard.
"Eat on the way," he reminds her. His sandwich is unopened on the dining room table, hers still in the bag, and he rocks the wheelchair forward to grab it. She's on her feet now, combing her fingers in her hair as she reorganizes her bun, but she does take the bag from him when she's done.
"How do I look?" she says, a lightness to her voice that sounds false.
"You look regretful," he says too honestly. "And sexy. But that might just be me projecting."
She does laugh at that, leans over to kiss his cheek, her hand curling at the back of his neck. "You eat too, Castle."
"I am. I will," he echoes. But he will; he's already hungry. "Alexis said six?"
"Alexis said... oh right, yes. Well, maybe a little after now," she says, pressing her lips into a flat, unhappy line. "Maybe more like seven. I'm swinging by the dry cleaner's to get our stuff."
"You don't have to-"
"I gotta go," she interrupts, leaning in again to kiss him a little harder, comes back for a second with her eyes open this time. She lingers with this one, her lips brushing his and her breath curling warmly with his. "I gotta go."
"Go," he insists with a laugh, pushing on her. It only causes his wheelchair to roll back - he forgot to put on the brake - but it does the job. She chuckles and rises to her full height, magnificent and warriorlike, and then she blows him a kiss on her way out the door - looking like Grace Kelly with that one flirty gesture.