They've made their way back through Terminal B and returned to their earlier home of Terminal A, having found a different but equally decent vacant area a bit farther away from the entrance than their previous one.

She continues to fight a battle with her eyelids for the next hour and a half, trying to keep them open as best as she can, but it's a battle she knew from the beginning that she was likely to lose. Her body is well acquainted with late, sleepless nights—she's accustomed to that, knows she can handle it most of the time—but she also knows that once she's tired, really tired, there's not much she can do. She crashes, and the caffeine does little to help beyond this point.

So when Castle wordlessly hands her the blanket she doesn't object, just rolls her eyes and gives him a ghost of a smile. "This is not a defeat."

He laughs, raising a hand. "Of course not. Now take your not defeat and rest. I'll wake you up if anything happens."

She should just lean against the wall like she had in the beginning, curl her legs up into her body and settle in that way. It's much easier now with the small pillow that Castle's so graciously given her, so there's really no excuse; the wall isn't comfortable, no, but with the added cushion it'd be just fine.

And yet she decides against it, pushes the boundaries a little more—a lot of that's been happening during this little excursion, she realizes—and angles her body the opposite way, shifting until she's up against Castle's side, her head resting gently on his shoulder.

Castle doesn't even try to hide a grin when she settles down, watching as her legs are pulled beneath her for a more comfortable position. He tries to keep his breathing as steady as he can, given the situation, so he doesn't scare her away or disturb her.

He steals the occasional glance down at his partner, watching her eyelids flutter as she sleeps. Rogue pieces of hair have fallen into her face, small curls tickling at her nose, lifting a little with each breath she takes. The majority of her hair's since escaped from the neat braid he'd done for her so many hours before, and he wants so badly to just take it all out and run his fingers through it.

His phone serves as a fairly decent source of distraction for a while—he managed to find a kind woman who was willing to let him borrow her charger for half an hour, until his phone was up to a more acceptable percentage—but even the games fall flat after so long, after so many attempts.

He covers his mouth with his palm as he tries to stifle a yawn, but he can't deny that he's feeling the effects of their day. It's been manageable for the past few hours, and he's been able to keep it at bay with the help of coffee and walking around, but now he's just tired. And bored.

Tired and so, so bored.

There's only so much one can do in an airport before they run out of steam.

Looking towards the windows, he watches as the snow continues to cascade down, though now it's simmered into a lighter haze. No longer is there the whiteout blizzard that was taking the city by storm—no pun intended—and delaying flights for hours on end. It even looks as if it might begin to clear up soon, but that's still only wishful thinking at this point.

Plows can be temperamental and extremely unreliable.

As his eyelids begin to feel heavy, he takes one last look down at the sleeping detective next to him, and sighs. Her breathing's evened out, he's almost positive she's fully asleep now, and so he stretches out his arm and loops it around her shoulder, tugging her closer into him without jostling her head's position. With his hand on her shoulder, he gently leans his own head down to rest on top of hers.

His fingers run lazily through the ends of her hair as his eyes fall closed.

"Attention, Terminal A inhabitants," a voice booms over the loud speaker, loud being the opportune word because it's just so loud.

Castle's eyes shoot open when he feels the previously-sleeping detective beneath him jerk awake, her head lifting at the sound.

"It's been a long night, but I'm happy to inform you that the storm seems to have passed over now and flights should begin getting the okay to fly within the hour. Please check in with the front desk if you have any other questions, and thank you all for staying as calm as possible during this time."

She groans, willing her heart rate to return to normal once the shock of the PA system interruption has subsided, and sits up straighter, rolling her neck as she rubs at her eyes. The more she rubs, the more she realizes she's probably removing an entire day's worth if under eye concealer, can only imagine what damage these sleepless nights have added to her already fairly prominent bags.

But she can't find it in her to care right now.

"I guess the storm's cleared," Castle mumbles, voice raspy as his fists rub at his own eyes.

Nodding, she covers a yawn with the back of her hand. "Guess so," she concurs, pushing her shoulders back to stretch her back. "What time is it?"

Castle squints down at his phone, hastily turning down the brightness until his eyes adjust—the small area they've inhabited this time is a bit far off, has less lighting than the main floor. "4:03," he groans.

"Thirteen hours," she muses, shaking her head. "We've been here for thirteen hours."

He mutters a response but she doesn't quite catch it, just watches as he runs a hand through his hair and shakes it out. Hair. God, her hair has got to be awful. She reaches a hand behind her head, fingers trailing along the braid that was once neatly constructed but has since become a mess.

Her eyes fall to the windows where, as the staffer on the loud speaker said, the storm seems to have settled. There are still a few flurries here and there, falling in a hap-hazardous manner, but it's much tamer than it was earlier. She takes a few seconds to gather herself, blinking until she's content with the state of her vision and general disposition, and then she turns to Castle.

"We should get going," she comments, pushing herself off the floor to stand.

He blinks. "Yeah," he nods after a minute, using his hands on the wall to help him get up. "Better leave before the storm decides it wants to come back. I'd really rather not sleep on the floor all night."

She laughs, lifting her arms above her head as she arches her back. "That'd be our luck." Bending down, she picks up the blanket and pillow, tucking it beneath her arms. They're so soft she kind of just wants to put them back down and pass out, but she'll be able to do that soon enough. "Come on."

He follows her through the terminal and towards the exit, but he stops just short of the doors. "Beckett." She swivels on her heel, gives him a questioning look. "There's one thing we didn't take into consideration."

"What?" she asks, taking a few steps until she's standing in front of him again.

"The cruiser," he says, nodding outside. "It's buried in at least two feet of snow right now."

Her eyes widen as what he's just said registers. Shit.

"Oh," she groans, cursing herself for not having thought of that. Of course the cruiser's buried. A ridiculous blizzard just blew through, covering everything in its path, including her car.

"Do you happen to have a shovel in the backseat?"

She opens her mouth, about to reply with an affirmative, but then it closes. "No."

There was a shovel in the cruiser, but the one in Espo's disappeared and she'd given it to him to scrape some ice off his windshield. Or something similar. She'd told him to just give it to her later, but later never came, they both forgot about it, and she still doesn't have it back.

"I'll call a car," he says then, digging in his pocket for his phone. "We'll come back and get the cruiser tomorrow."

She's too tired to even argue with him so she waves a hand, nods, and waits as he calls his guy.

He turns back to her after he hangs up. "He'll be here in ten minutes," he tells her, and she lets out a breath. "We can wait by the doors."

The car arrives twenty minutes later, a ten minute delay caused by the road's still icy state.

They venture outside, the bite of the air immediately rushing through the both of them, causing their arms to curl at their chests for added warmth. Beneath their shoes the ice cracks, screams against the pressure, and they do their best to keep from sliding.

It seems as though the news of flights getting the okay has spread, because the drop off area is swarming with people, all far too eager and awake for 4:30 in the morning, but thankfully they get to bypass the chaos and begin to make a beeline for the parking lot where the car's waiting for them.

There's still a light snow shower coming down, and Beckett slows her pace until she comes to a full stop, leaning her head back, facing the sky.

Her lips quirk into a tired smile as she takes a deep breath, reveling in she scent of the fresh snow as snowflakes continue to fall, colliding with her skin, catching on her tongue when she opens her mouth. She really has always loved the snow, the smell that comes along with it, and despite their situation for the past thirteen hours, this time is no different.

With one last deep breath she opens her eyes, lowering her head, and comes face to face with Castle's awed blue eyes, his slight smirk. She gives a shy smile in return, nodding behind him to where the car awaits, and follows his footsteps.

"Thank you for coming so late, Benny," Castle says in greeting as they reach the car, where an older brunette man is holding open the back door. "I really appreciate it."

Benny shakes his head. "Not a problem, sir," he says, then turns to nod at Beckett. "Detective."

She gives him an appreciative smile as she slides into the backseat, immediately listing her body against the far door. Sleeping is not an option, not right now, because she's far too aware that if she dozes off she'll be even worse off when she has to wake up in another twenty minutes.

Castle slides in after her, taking the seat on the opposite side and leans forward when Benny steps back into the car.

"Back to the loft, please."

Beckett's head whips around to him, brows scrunched. "Castle, no," she says, shaking her head. "I'll go home, Benny."

"Beckett."

"Castle," she returns.

He turns to her, giving her a small smile. "It's 4:30 in the morning. The loft is closer." Her mouth opens to protest, but he holds his hand up. "And, you don't have a car. How do you plan to get back here from your apartment, and then to the precinct?"

"There are these things called cabs," she points out, her lips pursed.

He shakes his head. "It makes no sense for you to pay for a cab when you can just stay in the guest room, and then the both of us can come back tomorrow and dig the cruiser out of its snowy grave."

She sighs, pinching the bridge of her nose, but ultimately lets the corners of her mouth quirk upwards, her bottom lip tugged between her teeth.

He has a point; in reality, it's stupid to make Benny drive her home, and then have to pay for a cab tomorrow just to come right back. The loft is closer, and the thought of how long it'd take to trek to her apartment in this post storm traffic is becoming more and more unappealing.

His guest room, however, is becoming more enticing—she still remembers how comfortable the bed is from when she'd stayed after her apartment blew up.

Just the mere thought of sinking into that mattress right now and drifting off to sleep is heavenly.

An exhale escapes her lips. "Fine," she concedes, giving him a small nod. "Loft it is."

His face breaks out into a triumphant grin. "To the loft please, Benny," he says once more, and the man gives him a nod in the rear view mirror.

She's not sure she's ever been this grateful to see the inside of Castle's home. Her entire body is exhausted, and the effort it takes to shrug out of her jacket and kick off her boots is almost embarrassing.

"There's an extra toothbrush in the bathroom upstairs," he says, nodding in the general direction of the second floor. "I'll get you something to sleep in?"

Her gaze falls, taking in the jeans and sweater she's been wearing all day, and then she lifts her eyes to his, murmuring an affirmative. She props herself up against the bottom of the staircase until he comes back, a pair of sweats and an over-sized t-shirt in his outstretched hand.

"These okay?"

She nods. "They're good," she confirms with a smile. "Thank you."

His response is a twinkle of the eyes and a stifled yawn. "You need anything else?"

Shaking her head, she lets out a soft laugh. "No. No, this is great," she assures him. "All I need is to change and collapse into bed."

"I'll let you get to that, then." He takes a breath and runs a hand through his hair, already starting to turn away, head back into his bedroom. "Until tomorrow, Beckett."

He's halfway through the living room when she rolls her eyes at herself.

"Castle," she calls out, watching him stop and turn back around. She takes a few strides until she's standing in front of him, taking in the confusion buried within his eyes, just under the surface.

She lifts herself on the balls of her foot and places a chaste kiss to his cheek, before pulling back and chuckling at the stunned expression now painting his features, the wonder in his eyes unmistakable.

He just blinks at her, and she's not even sure he registers that she's already walking away, but then he grins, tired eyes crinkling around the edges, and her heart beats a little faster. Her head twists, turning to look over her shoulder one last time as she starts up the stairs, the corners of her mouth turning up into a soft smile for him.

"Night, Castle."

Thank you all for coming on this little journey with me. I hope you've enjoyed it, and for those of you who celebrate, Merry Christmas!