Chapter One

A brand new day

The alarm blares beside his bed. He lets loose an annoyed groan and reaches for her phone to turn the damn thing off. He checks the time as well. Oh god, it's 10:00am. It's too early. He closes his eyes and sighs. He doesn't want to get out of bed. He runs his hand over his face, trying to force the sleepiness away.

Opening his eyes again, he takes in his surroundings. He is in his bedroom. The yellow light is streaming through the curtains, creating the peaceful ambiance in there. The spot next to him is empty. Kate. She was here during the night. Yes. He can see it. The blankets are bunched in the middle of the bed and in the spot where she is supposed to be remains only a faint impression of her light body.

Ah. He remembers now. Somebody called her at 7:00am. Precinct. He vaguely remembers having a conversation with her before she left. Something about her leaving and him bringing the coffee to the precinct when he wakes up. Coffee. Yes. When he wakes up.

Uh. Okay.

He should wake up.

Five more minutes.

He agrees with himself and closes his eyes again. Oh. That feels good, yes.

He wakes up ten minutes later when his alarm starts to go off again. Groaning, he turns the alarm off the second time and sits up in the bed. He rubs his eyes and surveys the room. Oh. It's messy. They had a pretty rough night as it turns out. And Kate, leaving so early, didn't have time to clean anything up. Lt. Chloe's dress is rumpled on the armchair, in the same position as they left it the night before - after he had peeled it off of Beckett's body. Hmmmm.

The memories of last night flood his foggy brain and they make him smile.

He had no idea how cool it is to have a geeky girlfriend. All of the cosplay they had the night before...

Uhm.

Yeah, he should stop thinking about her body quivering under his while she was whispering dirty lines from Nebula 9 and Star Wars into his ears. This had to be one of the hottest nights they had spent together since last spring.

Shaking his head to force away the waves of arousal, he pushes the covers away and hangs his feet over the edge of the bed. He still doesn't want to start the day. The bed feels just too good. He can almost hear the cream-coloured silky sheets calling him back. He slides a hand over his face.

But it's already 10:00am. And he had promised to bring Beckett her coffee when he woke up eventually.

His feet touch the soft carpet and he stands up, stretching himself as much as he can to make the sleep go away. His knee pops, so does his shoulder. Shaking, he steps away from the bed, heading towards the kitchen.

Suddenly there is something on the ground with hair and a rubber face that causes him to trip. His foot gets stuck on the face of the creaver and he stumbles few steps before he can regain his balance.

Letting loose a string of curse words, he shakes his fist at the damn thing. Kate had taken it off and just left it there so that he could stumble on it. She probably did it on purpose, yes. Just for that, no vanilla for her coffee today.

He limps to the center of the room, still muttering nasty words at the creaver mask. He picks up his boxers and pulls them on, covering his nakedness from the chilly air. He finds his shirt somewhere on the other side of the room. Chuckling, he pulls it on. Boy, were they crazy last night. The whole room looks like a battlefield, clothes scattered around the floor like something had exploded.

Not even bothering to clean anything up, he shakes his head and makes his way out of the bedroom through his study. He yawns loudly as he enters the kitchen, walking towards the coffee maker. He pushes few buttons, but before he can switch the thing on he discovers he is missing one important thing - a coffee cup. He looks around the counters, but no cup there. Huh.

Then he discovers one on top of the higher counter. Kate must have left it there. He heads to the counter, placing his hand to the light stone surface before it reaches the cup.

He's tired and sluggish and he doesn't want to move all the way to the other side of the counter.

He stops, just wishing that the cup would move by itself so he doesn't have to. He looks at the mug again.

The cup jerks slightly.

Huh.

Then it slides into his palm, like something is pulling it there.

Double huh.

What?

He releases the cup as if it had burned his hand, the ugly yellow thing clatters around the counter as its rolls away from him.

What the hell is going on here? Whaaa? He can move things with his mind?

Surely, he must be imagining it.

Shaking his head again, furiously this time, he is trying to force the remnants of the sleep away together with the hallucinations he must be having right now.

He checks the surface of the counter. The counter must have been wet and the cup just had slid into his hand because of it. There has to be some kind of logical reason for the cup to move.

Yes.

That must be the reason. For sure. Where is Beckett when he needs her the most?

No.

As his palm slides over the surface, the counter seems to be as dry as it can be.

Huh.

What the what?

He stares at the cup.

No way it could have moved on its own. It doesn't have wheels, does it?

Widening his eyes, he takes the cup in his hand and looking inside, outside. Then he turns it over looking for any explanation as to how it could have moved on its own.

No.

It's an average cup. With a little bit of coffee in the bottom. Nothing seems to be out of the ordinary.

He places the cup down on the counter again and gives it 'the look'. His eyes squinted, he just stares it.

What did he do when the cup moved the first time?

His eyes widen when he remembers that he placed his hand on the counter and wished that the cup could come closer to him. And it did. It moved into his hand.

Could that be it? Is it this simple?

Slowly, he lowers his arm to the smooth surface of the kitchen counter.

Nothing happens. The cup just sits there, mocking him from afar.

Why isn't it working? How did it work before? Why?

Maybe he has to wish really hard?

He closes his eyes and imagines the cup, flying into his palm, trying to put all of his energy into this one thought. He hears a rattle from the general direction of the yellow coffee cup and he opens his eyes just to see the it landing in his open hand.

Woah.

Dude.

He can move things with his mind?

He can move things with his mind!

The look of his a mixture of utter surprise and the childish glee. He looks like he had just discovered the fountain of youth or something equally important. His mouth hangs open and he is staring at the coffee cup again.

"WOAH," he whispers aloud. "This can't be happening."

He places the cup down on the edge of the counter.

"Ok. One more time," he says to himself. He runs to the other end of the stone surface and straightens his arm, ready to catch the sliding pottery.

He squints his eyes and stares at the cup. Sure enough, the cup jerks from its place and slides to Castle's hand in hurried speed.

He grabs the cup and smiles widely. His dream has come true.

"Oh my god," he exclaims, staring at the cup.

"I have a superpower!"

A/N: Ok. Bare with me. This is my first ficathon entry. I am trying to write more, so that's why I took up the challenge. Although, this is a half-a-ficathon for me - my personal score is to try to make it to 25 000 words. So 23 500 words to go. Woop!

Thank you for lousiemcdoogle (the queen of prompts) for pushing me into this direction.

Please tell me what you think of this idea, is it worth continuing? Thank you.