He almost walks right over it.

He's so focused on his phone, on reading the last text from Kate, the one promising him a "happy ending to play time," if he can get home early enough. He isn't sure what she's planning, but he hopes it involves their sinfully comfortable bed, maybe the couch, or shower, or office, or all of the above, and no clothing. He definitely hopes clothing is, at the very least, minimal.

So he's not even paying attention when he fits his key into the lock, and it's only his leg hitting something that causes him to look down. Wha-

A Nerf gun?

He notices the note on the door then, the piece of paper with her familiar scrawl.

Husband,

Welcome home. I'm hiding in the house with a Nerf gun, here is the other one…

The loser cooks dinner tonight.

May the odds be ever in your favor.

Xoxo,

Wife

He grins.

Oh, it's on.

He lets the door shut with a soft click behind him as he enters the loft, his gun poised, finger on the trigger, ready to react when his wife makes her move. He balances on the balls of his feet; previous laser tag and Nerf gun wars have almost always left her the victor, but he's optimistic tonight. He's restless, the day spent cooped up in the conference room at Black Pawn giving him energy.

She likes to wait him out; usually she stays hidden, patient, while he searches for her, then inevitably she corners him and takes him out.

But not tonight. Tonight, he's going to find her.

He's going to win.

He starts downstairs; last time he'd made the mistake of getting caught in the guest bathroom upstairs, where she'd trapped him in the tub. That night's deal had been that the loser would be teased mercilessly. And oh, had she teased him.

But tonight he's already thinking of what he wants for dinner, what he'll have her make when he wins. Pasta, maybe. Some of that killer bolognese she makes. Yeah, that's it.

He sweeps their bedroom, bathroom, even the closet. Nothing. His office is empty as well, even the secret room behind his desk.

Okay, so she has to be upstairs.

"Kate?" he calls out as he comes out of the secret room, and as he takes long strides back through the living room, he feels something hit his ass. "What the-" He turns in surprise and hears a giggle, and his eyes strain through the bookshelves that double as office walls.

She wasn't upstairs.

He ducks behind the couch, avoiding the next dart by inches. "Not fair, Beckett!" he calls out; where the hell was she hiding? He peeks over the back of the couch to try and see her, but when a dart flies past his head, he ducks back down.

"You won't win, Castle!"

He cranes his ears; her voice had come from his office, but he hears her soft footsteps, and when she steps on the loose floorboard between the office and kitchen, he grins. Gotcha. He pops back out and fires three quick darts, but the third misses, and her return fire hits him once.

Two-two, each with three darts left. He can do this.

She hides in the kitchen, behind the island, and he sneaks closer, pausing first behind the recliner for brief cover, and then to the other side of the island. He can hear her shuffling, so he follows, trying to scoot just a little faster than her to catch her. But his knee slips out from under him and he loses his balance, and before he knows it she's on top of him, hands pinning his wrists to the floor.

"I win," she teases, her mouth at his ear, punctuating her words with a nip at his earlobe.

He shivers at her touch and frees his hands from her very loose grip, and when he pushes himself onto his knees, she squeals and locks her arms around his chest. "Where were you this time?" he asks, turning his head to give her a smirk.

"The balcony," she says, matter-of-fact, and crosses her ankles at his stomach when he stands. "You know what I feel like having for dinner?"

"What?" he asks, his voice cracking when her heels brush against him through the front of his pants. His hands find hers. "What do you want for dinner?"

She hums appreciatively, her nose nuzzling his neck and her tongue darting out to taste him. "You," she whispers into his ear. "I want you."

She collapses next to him hours later, chuckling at the exaggerated heave of his chest. At least, she thinks it's exaggerated; they've only just finished a very enthusiastic round three. "You okay?" she gasps, grinning at him.

He just turns his head towards her. "Give me a few minutes. You were-"

The rumble of her stomach interrupts him, and she chuckles again, managing to roll to the side of the bed. "Hold that thought, stud," she teases, giving his hand a squeeze when he reaches out for her and ends up smacking her boob. "Mmm, later," she adds with a shimmy.

She can feel his eyes following her every move as she grabs his shirt from its landing spot on the lamp. "Where do you think you're going?"

"To get food." She fastens just a couple buttons in the middle. "I'm too hungry to wait for you to recover."

"We'll order in," he insists, an arm out, fingers curling in a beckon. "Come."

She hesitates for just a moment, but his smirk, the hair flopped over his forehead, his naked body sprawled across the mattress...he's just too enticing. She slips the shirt back off and drapes it over her chair for later. "Why don't you make me?" she husks, sliding one knee between his when she climbs back next to him.

"Make you-" His eyebrows furrow, but the moment the double entendre hits home, he flips them over and settles between her parted legs. "Oh, I can definitely make you. Time and time again."

She moans at his renewed energy as he trails his lips down her body. Yeah, food can wait. Food can definitely wait.

They have a rematch the next day. Strip Nerf Battle, where they have to remove a piece of clothing every time they're hit.

Castle's naked before she can take off anything.

But he definitely does not complain.

A/N: Thanks as always to beta Callie. All mistakes are mine. Photo prompt from castlefanficprompts dot tumblr dot com/post/136956084125. Thank you!