First Day Jitters

"Your mother is really terrible at making coffee," Kate murmurs.

Castle grunts a laugh in bed and opens a surprised eye, turning his head to look at her. "Yeah. You just now figuring that out?"

"She keeps doing it though," Kate answers. Her hand is curled up under her chin and the moonrise is behind her, limns her hair. She looks a lot more easy than she has the last few nights since moving back to New York, less like she's been haunting the loft all hours, less restless.

More showered. That helps. Regular showers. He didn't want to say anything.

"My mother sometimes thinks she's being helpful," he tells her, rolling onto his side now and facing her.

Her fingers uncurl and tap against his chin. It's not that late, he thinks. They could still go.

"We could be at your place in under an hour," he offers. "First day back tomorrow."

"Yeah," she says, a little grin sneaking across her face. "First day back."

"I barely even have to pack anything," he adds. "Think it over."

She is thinking about it; he can tell. It'll be quieter. Her bedroom won't be turned into Grand Central Station for a house meeting or whatever. They won't have to look at Pi's bare chest as he stalks in half-naked.

Mrs. C-to-Be.

Okay, he's kind of ticked he didn't think of that one and/or have the guts to use it already.

"That's a lot of thinking it over," he chuckles. There are no stars in the city, just that diffuse pinked glow that darkens over time. The moon is yellow tonight, has the quality of cheese-dusted styrofoam. A piece of stale popcorn left in the movie theatre seat.

"No," she finally answers. "Sweet of you, but no."

"No?" He's surprised. He planned on convincing her easily and sneaking out the front door with her, still in his pajamas, riding the subway in their robes with a bag packed at their feet. It's New York; he's seen stranger.

"No," she says again. "C-to-Be, right? Gotta face the music sometime."

He snorts and pushes his hand across the mattress to catch the sleeve of her sleepshirt. Another one loose, a gem-bright color, fascinating dips of her shoulder or collarbone. This one v-necked like the others so that when she lies on her side he gets the tantalizing glimpse of cleavage.

He might be a sap for it, but what he loves best isn't the cleavage - it's that shy smile. The I'm in love with you smile. The tender one that forgives a host of his sins and reaches out across the miles like a touch.

A thousand video chats and it's never been done justice.

"You're falling asleep," she says softly.

"Dreaming of you," he answers, no filter.

She chuckles and presses two fingers to her lips and this time her hand spans the distance and her kiss dusts lightly along his mouth, his cheek, his nose, his eyelid as she smiles wider and wider, laughing at him silently.

He grins back and captures her wrist, draws her in for a real good-night kiss. Touch and taste and warmth, a sense of knowing exactly what they'd be missing.

"Night, Rick," she murmurs at his chin, her voice dipping low as she herself falls towards sleep.

"Until tomorrow."

Her eyes pop open, smile lights up. "First day back."

"Kate."

She groans and twists against the intrusion, finds a cool spot in the sheets and burrows in.

"Kate. Coffee."

She opens an eye to a big blue mug, steaming, and the near-dark bedroom. "Coffee?"

"I got up early and beat my mother to the French press."

Kate groans in anticipated bliss this time and reaches for her favorite cup, curling her fingers around the mug and bringing it in close. Castle smiles at her and slides into bed on his side, their shoulders holding each other up against the headboard.

She takes that first sip and has to close her eyes.

"Yeah, that's a really good face. I know that face."

"Shut up," she says automatically, but yeah. He's right. He knows this face. "This is exquisite."

She takes her time with it, sipping slowly, barely opening her eyes and letting them fall shut every time the taste hits her tongue and burns down her throat.

"How early did you have to get up?" she says finally, her voice sounding raw from so much wonderful, rich caffeine.

"It's about 5:30."

She groans and tilts her head to look at him, can't believe he got her up at...

Oh. "That's sweet, Castle," she murmurs, leaning in to kiss his cheek.

"Well, you know. First day back."

She studies him a moment longer, gauging that mood, and then she chuckles. "You made me pancakes."

"Well."

"You did."

"Fine. Yes. When you're ready. I figured I had to get an early jump on loathsome Pi."

"Hush," she laughs, absurdly delighted that Castle got up crazy early just so he could claim his own kitchen. "But I have to admit his mustache is beginning to creep me out."

"I know," he hisses. "Right? It's so... wrong. It's just wrong."

"Honestly, if Pi showed up in our room in a red cape and stretchy blue pants and that bare chest, talking about needing some sweatssss... I wouldn't be surprised."

Castle gasps, startling on the bed as he stares at her with a laugh. "Nacho Libre. Jack Black in Nacho Libre. That is exactly who he reminds me of."

"Spot on," she says smugly.

"You're so right. It has been bugging me for weeks now. I knew he was... it's that curly hair. And the mustache. Mostly the mustache."

"The bare chest isn't helping him either." She takes another sip of coffee and laughs. "How can Alexis even-"

"Don't."

She closes her mouth, opens to explain, rethinks that and shuts up again.

Castle scrubs a hand down his face and shudders. "Great. I've got mental images I don't want."

"I didn't say it."

"But it was there. Hovering in the air."

"You have an overactive imagination."

"It's a job requirement," he retorts easily. He's still wincing though and she does feel bad, tries to change the subject.

"What about my pancakes?"

"I made them already but I put them in the warmer so they'll last. Bundled up in damp cloths too, so they won't even dry out."

She's impressed and lets him know it, strokes her hand over his thigh. "Good job."

"Thanks, I try."

"You definitely do," she murmurs, leaning in for another kiss. More purposeful, more rewarding. She spends time on it, gets it right, makes it slow and lazy just so she can hear that rumble in his throat when he wants more.

She tilts back and taps her mug to his in cheers, well-versed in delayed gratification and its effects on this man in bed with her. Of course, he gives her a smoldering look, his best come hither eyes, but she holds out as long as she can.

He's the one who takes the coffee out of her hands - dangerous though that is - and he's the one who rolls her under him and looms over her, waiting for something.

She dallies, lets her fingers glide over his ribs and to his hips so slowly, not meeting his eyes for yes.

He growls something like her name or woman and his mouth dips to skim her clavicles.

"Did you lock the door?" she murmurs. "We gotta keep out Nacho and his stretchy pants."

Castle laughs and falls down into her, his mirth reverberating through her body and making her smile as well. There's maybe a little groan in it too, from the bruise that radiates brightly at the top of his sternum, but he's not complaining. Not held himself back from her either, and though she's careful, she's been happy to find that it doesn't make either of them hesitant.

This isn't the morning she expected for her first day back, not what she thought she'd have to face staying at his loft either, but it's fun. It's them and his family, and it's Castle doing all those little and big things to make it easier on her, and at least he's not demanding she take off her shirt because it's too sexy.

Though that might come later.

Sooner. If the door really is locked.

She lifts her hips into his and he stutters out the last of his laughter, a breathlessness to it now.

"Didn't answer me, Castle. You lock the door?"

"Let me get right on that," he says, and he jumps up to do her bidding.

First day back. Already things are falling into place.