Waking Up in Vegas

Rated T

A Caskett AU

Prompt: anonymous asked:AU. How am I supposed to tell my mom that, in the high school's graduation trip to LV, I came back married with her favorite author? (via castlefanficprompts )

For ipreferwestside, who said she needed a pick me up this evening.

"Just breathe, Kate."

"Oh, that is easy for you to say," she snaps at the man at her side, regretting it the moment his grin widens. Apparently he enjoys her ire. Of course he enjoys her frustration; he probably thrives on this shit. For all she knows, this is just another Saturday night for him. After all, he is New York's new hot shot bad boy author; she's seen him in the papers enough to know he is no choir boy.

Oh god, the papers. This is going to end up in the papers. This can't end up in the papers yet, not before –

Covering her face, Kate groans into her palms. "I'm dead. I'm so dead."

Her companion draws her hands from her face, shaking his head as soon as she can see him.

"Listen, listen, it'll be fine."

"Fine?" she repeats, incredulous. "Do you remember the part where we –"

"Oh, I remember that very well."

Grunting in annoyance, she tries to yank her hands out of his, only to have him hold fast. "Not that part, pervert. The part where – in a fit of complete insanity – we got married."

He grins, his face lighting up at the reminder. "Don't forget a lot of alcohol, too," he drawls, lackadaisical in spite of his obvious excitement.

"Rick, will you just be serious?" she huffs.

"I am," he insists earnestly, slipping his thumb over her knuckles, making broad circles until he brushes the white gold band around her finger. "We got drunk, we got crazy, we got married. Okay, so you're not twenty-one, but otherwise, so? You're over eighteen, I'm over eighteen, you're –"

"Here on a weekend graduation trip with friends I haven't seen since the night I met you? About to leave to go home and face my parents with the news that I got married. To an author my mother reads, no less."

Reads being a massive understatement; Johanna Beckett is a little bit gaga for the guy. In a Hail of Bullets had been an impulse purchase, but Kate's mother has done nothing but sing the new writer's praises since she'd finished the novel.

That has his smile turning cocky once more. "Really? Does she like my book? Because if my mother-in-law doesn't like my work, that could make things awkward – ow! Kate!"

"You are not funny," she hisses, releasing his ear at his exaggerated pout. Good lord, he's twenty-three, and yet he acts like he's ten.

"Okay, okay, okay." He holds up a hand in surrender. "Serious time. Let's sit, have some coffee, and talk about this."

Releasing a slow breath, she nods. "Okay. Okay, let's do that."

Rick smiles once more, dropping a soft kiss to her hairline, somehow disarming her defenses even further with the gentle touch. "Okay. You sit, I'll make it."

Kate settles into the cozy armchair at one end of their – his – suite, drawing her knees into her chest. The combination of sleeplessness, insanity, and alcohol is starting to catch up with her, sapping whatever energy she had mustered to pull herself out of bed and face her first morning as a newlywed.

God, what the hell had she been thinking? Marrying a guy she met in a bar on what amounted to a dare?

Do something crazy, Kate, her friends had teased the moment they landed in Las Vegas. It's your last chance before you go serious Stanford on us.

Well, the joke is on them, because as soon as they'd hit the bar on the Strip (having already raided the minibar in the hotel room Maddie's parents were paying for, of course), she had sidled up to the man now making coffee in his boxers across the room from her, held out her hand in greeting, and never looked back.

Never mind that she'd known who he was as soon as he turned around, never mind that he's just over four years older than her, never mind that they have to figure out –

A mug appears under her nose, delicious coffee scented steam teasing her senses, pulling her from her contemplation.

"You're freaking out," he observes, waiting until she's grasped her mug to drop down onto the ottoman at the end of her chair and curl his fingers around his own coffee.

Huffing a laugh, she takes a long sip of the drink. That's one way to put it. "Aren't you? This is kind of a big deal."

"A little bit, yeah."

"Which part?" she asks, narrowing her eyes.

"Both? To be honest with you, the sarcasm and jokes are kind of a defense mechanism…"

"Oh." Well, that is good to know about him. "In that case, sorry I snapped at you."

One of his shoulders lifts. "You didn't know."

And that's part of the problem, isn't it? She is married to this guy, and she doesn't even know a thing about him. Except for how freaking amazing he is in the sack. That much she has first-hand experience to draw from; holy crap.

"I don't know a lot about you. You don't know a lot about me. We can't be married if we don't know anything about each other!"

Coffee-warmed fingers curl around her foot, startling her eyes back to his.

"We can learn, though. Hell, I don't know anything about being married in general."

Kate snorts. "And you think I do? Remember the part where I'm not even nineteen?"

"Not much older than you, you know," he grumbles, swiping his thumb over the top of her foot.

Her head rocks from side to side. "No, listen. It's not about the difference in our ages. It's – I'm eighteen, Rick. I'm going to Stanford in a month and a half. How would this even work? Long distance? You move with me? I'm not going to stay in New York – Stanford is my dream school – so sorry, pal, don't even think about suggesting that."

His lips turn up. "I wouldn't dream of it. So what do you want to do?"

Groaning, Kate slumps further into the seat. "I don't know. I was asking you."

"We could get a divorce?" he suggests. "Or an annulment? Then this whole thing would just be something to laugh about with our friends later."

"Is that what you want?"

Rick sips his coffee, smoothing his hand over her ankle. "It would be the smart thing."

"Not getting married in the first place would've been the smart thing," she retorts, stretching her leg to flatten her foot against his thigh.

He offers her a lopsided grin. "Yes, well, we skipped straight to crazy. So I think it comes down to a question of are we going back to smart? Or are we doubling down on the insanity?"

His fingers trip higher, squeezing her calf as he speaks. God, he needs to stop touching her, stop encouraging tiny sparks of desire to spread through her limbs, and just let her think, damn it.

"We could try it." she blurts out, feeling her cheeks flush at his surprise. "I dunno, maybe give it a shot until I leave for school? And then see where we are? I mean, strangers get married every day – sometimes even on TV – surely we could do better than that, right?"

"Wait, you want to give being married a shot?"

"Yeah," she breathes, ducking her head. She'd always thought the first time she got married, it would be the only time, so… "I mean, maybe? I don't know. Shut up."

He blinks. "I didn't say anything."

"Whatever. My point is we could… maybe try a date or two or something first? Before we go hiring lawyers – which would get back to my parents in a heartbeat – or before I start moving my things into your place and picking out new linens for your bed."

Rick's eyes widen, making her snort against the rim of her coffee mug.

"What? You worried about your bachelor pad?"

"No, no, I mean… you seem cool. Not too –"

"Girly?" she teases, wiggling her toes underneath the hem of his boxers, watching his Adam's apple bob as he swallows. "You said you liked my style last night when you were taking my clothes off."

"Now who's being flippant?"

"Just trying to be sexy," she hums. "With my husband."

The word is weird on her tongue, insane for her to say aloud, but her gut only lurches a little bit. She has a husband. A husband. Shit.

He shifts closer, fingers dancing up her calf to circle her kneecap. Such talented fingers; she would be lying if she said she wasn't already in lust with his hands. His mouth, too.

"I, well, obviously I can do sexy. But you – what about your parents?"

"Gonna kill me anyway when they find out," she starts, licking her lips and watching him echo the gesture. "I might as well go out with a smile."

His hand plucks the coffee from her hands, depositing the ceramic somewhere she can't see before he tugs her off the chair and hauls her up his body to streamline the trip to the bed.

They keep their Vegas indiscretion a secret for six months, using the time to navigate what an actual relationship might look like before getting anyone else involved. It's not the most conventional solution, but it's what they manage to make work.

Now, just two days after her return from Stanford for Christmas break, Kate slips her wedding ring from the chain around her neck and slides it onto her finger where it resides most of the time when she's at school, taking her nervous husband's hand.

"You ready?" she murmurs, swiping her thumb against his knuckle, turning to watch him swallow. They're meeting her parents at a restaurant they love – a concession she's willing to make, given the bombshell she's about to drop on them – and both she and Rick seem to need a moment to compose themselves.

Their entire relationship has been a whirlwind in ways both good and bad. Most nights they sleep on opposite coasts, sharing late night (sometimes early morning for him) phone calls to stay connected and keep one another up to date about their lives. Their in-person time is sporadic at best, and often spent in bed getting reacquainted in the way they know they make sense, but it's been easier since Rick's newest book's release. He's not chained to his desk or lost in his own world nearly as often, which in turn makes her happier.

She misses him when they don't have the chance to talk, when their time together is cut short. More than she would've ever imagined. He's one of the first people she thinks of each morning. He's the one she gripes to when Debbie is driving her insane. He's the one – the first ever – who makes her heart stammer in anticipation whenever her phone rings, and as she waits to see him walk up at baggage claim.

He's it, she just knows. The one. Sweaty palms, sweet words, wild, sometimes infuriating, impulses and all. He's it.

"Yeah," he breathes, squaring his shoulders. "I'm ready. Are you?"

Kate licks her lips. "In a sec. I just… don't freak out when I tell you this."

"Tell me what?" His hand tenses in hers.

Lifting onto her toes, she brushes her mouth over his. "I love you, Rick. I… really love you."

Her husband's smile blossoms under her lips, his free hand lifting to cradle her chin. His thumb makes broad swipes along her jaw, the touch so very tender, her breath catches in her throat.

"I love you, too," he whispers.

Joy spreads through her belly. "Yeah?"

His head bobs. "I've been waiting to tell you, since – shit – September? Longer than that."

"Longer than that," she echoes, thumbing his hand.

"Yeah," he breathes. "And I'm so glad we didn't get a divorce."

Her laughter bounces off of the restaurant's stone façade. Pitching into him, she can only take another kiss from his mouth.

"Me too. Now let's introduce you to your in-laws and then we'll go back to your place and christen the new frilly pink sheets I bought."

Rick blinks. "Uh, Kate?"

She grins, stealing one last kiss before stepping back. "Kidding."

"Evil," he mutters, reaching out to open the door for her. Sucking in a deep breath, she steps inside, pulling him behind her.

Suffice to say, it's a good thing they came armed with an autographed and numbered copy of Rick's new book, because they're able to win over one of her parents before the night is over. Her father takes a little more convincing before he comes around.