Hello everybody.

This is a story written for the extra lovely Beth (take a peek at dont-give-up-ily on tumblr).
She has very kindly donated the idea to me, and I am going to do my best to write a story that you will all enjoy.

Disclaimer: Everything and everyone belongs to their rightful owners, I am simply borrowing them for a little while.

Homemade Soup and Extra Blankets

ONE

She had arrived at work less than an hour ago, but Beckett was already desperate to go home; to flee as quickly as she could from the blaring lights and relentless clatter of the 12th and sink deep into the blissful calm of her apartment.

She had hardly slept the night before, had tossed and turned and fought with blankets that seemed to tie themselves in knots, had been too hot, too cold, too hot all over again, utterly exhausted and unable escape the pounding of her head and churning of her stomach.
In truth, what she had wanted most of all was the comforting warmth of Castle to soothe her to sleep, but he had left the precinct so absolutely electric with story ideas that she couldn't bear to drag him away from his writing. Besides, he would only have worried unnecessarily, begged her to stay home, to call in sick, and that simply wasn't an option at the moment. They were so close to cracking their latest case, to uncovering that niggling detail that taunted and teased from its hiding place on the murder board, to bringing a glimmer of justice to the world. Kate Beckett didn't ever give up on that, and she certainly didn't do so for something as silly as the flu.

Gates had always seen a little of herself in Beckett, but watching the young detective as she forced herself to look over yet another manila folder with hands that trembled and eyes barely able to hold themselves open she felt as if she were looking into a mirror, a portal to a life that had once been her own. She knew all too well the nauseous ache of dragging yourself out of bed before dawn despite every cell in your body screaming out in protest, the fatigue that sunk deep into your bones and caused the world to haze and blur around the edges, the desperate longing for something, someone to ease the sheer awfulness of the day.
And she knew, too, that there was only one man who would be able to convince Beckett to take the day off; only one man who was allowed such intimate access to her life, to her vulnerabilities. Of course they would both deny it, claim partnership, swear friendship, but that was a conversation for another day. Right now all that Gates needed was for Castle to take Beckett home, to look after the woman he so obviously loved.

Thankfully it didn't take long for him to arrive, a coffee in each hand a smile reserved only for Beckett. Seeing him walk by her office, Gates decided that it was best to not wait any longer; the sooner she spoke to him, the sooner he could take the detective who was currently asleep at her desk home.

"Mr. Castle, may I speak with you a moment?"

She didn't miss the flash of apprehension that ran through his eyes at her words, the ever whirling mind of Richard Castle trying to decipher what he could possibly have done to aggravate her this time, "What can I do for you?"

"It's about Detective Beckett," she said, leading him into her office and walking back to the window that looks out over the bullpen. "I think it would best if you take her home and make sure she stays tucked up in bed."

"Sir?" He was completely flustered, missing entirely the reasoning behind Gates' suggestion and fearing for the secrecy of their relationship. And if she were being totally honest, Gates may have drawn more than a little amusement from his flushed cheeks and loss of words.

Eventually taking pity on the tongue tied writer, she beckoned him over to window and let him see for himself what she had actually meant, "Take her home, Castle, and don't let her back until she is well enough to return. We both know that Beckett won't take lightly to missing work, but I am prepared to order sick leave if that is what it takes."

Castle felt his heart surge at the sight of Beckett, his Beckett, slumped across her desk and ghostly pale, "Of course." The possible discovery of their relationship long forgotten, his mind taken over by worry and concern for the woman he loved.

"And Mr. Castle," adds Gates, just as he is at the door, "take care of her."

Smiling in understanding, Castle leaves the office with the determination to do just that. "I will, Sir. Thank you."

At first her mind is too groggy to comprehend the world around her, eyes stung with sleep and head weighted by the throbbing pain that seems to intensify with every second that passes. Someone is calling her name, soft and familiar like apple pie and midsummer nights, but she can't quite place it; everything seems too far away, drifted out to space or buried deep under the ocean. Surely it must all be a part of her dream, her subconscious pulling her safely away from the real world.

Then suddenly the voice is clearer, louder, so close that it has to be real, "Beckett" it whispers, "Kate" it soothes. "Kate, you have to wake up." Why does she have to wake up? It hurts to be awake, it really hurts; why can't she just stay asleep for a little while longer? "Come on, Katie." Oh, it's Castle. Only, he's not just Castle anymore, he's better than Castle; he's hers, he's Rick, and my goodness does she love to hear him speak the sultry syllables of a name so few are allowed to call her.

Turning towards his love filled words, she peeks open her eyes, blinking fast against the onrush of light and still not quite able to find her place in reality. "Rick?" His name is all that she can manage, still drifting through the neverwhere land that lies between fairy stories and harsh realities.

He gently pushes back the messy curls that have fallen haphazardly across her cheeks, daring to follow lovingly with his lips as he leans a little closer, the sickly heat of her fever radiating beneath his skin. "Gates is giving you the rest of the day off. You aren't well, darling, you need to go home."

"Hmmm, I'm fine, Rick. Just one more minute."

God, she's adorable. All sloppy smiles and sleepy words, forgetting the world entirely and stretching out in search of his touch, his kiss; but that is something to be appreciated at a different time.
Wrapping her hands around his neck he pulls Beckett slowly up onto her feet, one arm held tight around her body and the other gathering up her coat and bag. "We're going to do this together, one foot in front of the other, easy peasy lemon squeezy! You just tell me if you need to stop, ok?"

"Mmm'kay." She almost giggles, lost once more to a land of make believe.

He feels her body press a little closer to his own with each step that they take, limbs heavy and trusting, never questioning that she is safe in strength of his arms.
And in that moment he wants more than anything to tuck her neatly into his arms and carry her the whole way home, but she is already going to be annoyed for allowing herself to so languidly cling to his embrace in front of so many people, let alone the wrath that he would face for sweeping her off her feet and carrying her out of the precinct like a knight in shining armour. No, that certainly wouldn't be a good idea.

The elevator is already at their floor when they eventually arrive, its doors sliding effortlessly open the minute he presses the button. Stepping them both onto its familiar floor and leaning against the wall, Castle nods a goodbye to Gates and waits for the doors to close again.

He tightens his hold against the jolts of the elevator ride and leans down to press a kiss to Beckett's burning forehead. "We're nearly there, Kate. Just a couple more minutes and you can sleep the whole way home."

And when he looks up she is watching him through sleep laden eyes, tear stained and startlingly green under the fluorescent lights. She pulls herself as close to his body as she can manage, nuzzling Eskimo kisses against the crook of his neck and speaking with mumbled whispers. "Love you."

"I love you, too." He replies, promising to do all that he can to look after her. Not just on that day, not just to make her feel better with homemade soup and extra blankets, but for every day that is yet to come. To be hers, always.

To be continued..

I hope that you liked it?
Please let me know what you thought. Good, or bad - all feedback is greatly appreciated.

Thank you for reading,
Katie

Twitter: katieupatree
Tumblr: ourglassmenagerie