AN: After the airing of 5x01, clearly we're AU now, and our bad guy and the events related to the Johanna Beckett mythology depart here from canon. I can live with it if you can.
I appreciate all of your who are favoriting, following and reviewing. You make this so fun, thanks!
Thanks also to my good friend, Pen, who is looking this over so I sound a little less dumb than I ordinarily would left to my own devices.
lb
What woke her, she doesn't know. Rick is quiet, and very still. Only because she knows him so well, has spent a thousand nights lying next to him in this bed, does Kate know her husband is awake. And struggling. At the apex of his inhale, there is a flutter, the barest tremble in his breath.
Castle is a messy sleeper. He twitches, takes up lots of space. Occasionally drools. He's always touching her, somewhere, with a hand or a foot, if not an all-out snuggle. Most nights are soundtracked by his low, gentle snore. It drove Kate crazy at first. She never mentioned it to him, but as a habitually light sleeper herself, in the beginning Castle was an awful distraction as a bed partner. It's better now, though, mostly because she's better. She sleeps like she never could in all the years since her mother died. The rattle and hum of Castle that used to keep her staring at the ceiling is welcome now, like her own, personal white noise machine.
But tonight, Castle is noiseless, rigid, folded in on himself across the bed. Not himself. Not right. He's never been the emotionally stunted one in this partnership, although if there ever was a reason to be that way, this is probably it. Still, his wife isn't about to let him start bad habits now.
Kate makes a show of waking up, stretching out and swinging her legs over the side of the bed.
"Babe?" His voice holds no traces of sleep.
"Gotta pee." Happens to be true.
The bathroom door snicks closed, and Castle rolls away from the light peeking out under the door. A couple of minutes later, she's back. And hovering on his side of the bed. Behind his back, he feels her knees bump the mattress. "Scoot," she orders.
The doctor told her last week that she's far enough along she needs to make a point to sleep on her left side as much as possible. Which she's been doing. On her side of the bed, until now. Rick obeys, and Kate slides in behind him, as close as the growing baby will allow, an arm under his pillow and a knee bumping the back of his own.
"Little spoon's not supposed to be in the back," he grouses.
"Says who?" She snakes her free hand under his arm to splay out on his chest. He plucks it up to kiss her palm.
"I don't know, spoon people. People who know things about spoons. It's a known thing."
"Utensil illiterate morons."
He snorts out a laugh, and she smiles. Better.
If she was Castle, she wouldn't want to talk yet. So she doesn't make him. She just snuggles in tighter and plants an open-mouthed kiss on the first skin she finds above the collar of his t-shirt. Pulling back with a soft pop, she rubs her forehead on the space between his shoulder blades, makes a pillow adjustment, and settles in for the rest of the night.
"Thanks," he rasps out.
She hums into his shirt, her only reply.
