Sleepy
Kate shuffles out of the bedroom, blindly maneuvering through the dark office, bleary-eyed and her limbs heavy with sleep as she drags herself forward. She has no idea what time it is, doesn't know what woke her but when she'd rolled over, reaching for him she'd found only empty, cool sheets beneath her fingertips. She's no longer accustomed to sleeping on her own, has long since accepted that she's most relaxed and calm in his arms, that he brings her a certain sense of peace that had always eluded her so she sat up, swung her legs off the bed.
The hardwood is chilly beneath her feet as she steps through the doorway into the living room, at once arrested by the sight that greets her. All lights are off, only the fireplace still flickers, the lick of low flames dancing, bathing the room with a faint sunset glow.
Her eyes track over the couch and the form sprawled across the cushions, welling with tears, her heart pitter-pattering in her chest. She thinks it's rather ridiculous just how quickly her emotions overwhelm her these days but then again, who wouldn't feel the burst of joy, the comfortable warmth of love that curls inside her at the picture before her?
Her husband lies stretched out on the couch, a thin wool blanket tangled around his legs with his feet sticking out from underneath, one sock-clad and one naked. He's snoring almost inaudibly, a flop of his unruly hair hanging over his forehead. His palm is cradled protectively around the diapered bottom of his son sleeping on top of his chest, almost dwarfing the tiny body. His other hand rests on the baby's back, the boy curled in on himself, knees and elbows drawn up beneath him. She stares at his tiny, beautiful, perfect face, the pursed rosebud lips, the thin flutter of eyelashes that brushes his chubby cheeks and the wisp of fine, unruly hair that falls across his forehead, just like his daddy's.
She's filled with a piercing yearning for them both; needs to be there, curled up with them in their comfortable bubble, needs to be where she belongs – with them. She stumbles forward, rounds the sofa until she can carefully climb onto the cushion by his feet, wedging herself between his broad torso and the back of the couch, dragging herself up against him.
He grunts in his sleep, doesn't even wake up yet he opens his arm for her, innately attuned to her presence, until she's crawled into his embrace. He bands it tightly around her back, his palm curved around the ball of her shoulder as he tugs her higher, closer against his side until the length of her is pressed into him, one of her legs sliding between his.
Her baby sighs and wiggles, a tiny whimper and a huff escaping, and she lays her hand over his back where Rick's used to be, reveling in the rapid rise and fall of his little body with every breath that he takes.
And curled in Castle's arms her eyes fall closed as warmth engulfs her from the inside out and sleep claims her once more.