So Little Time

Beckett had worked fourteen days in a row, cleared four homicides, solved a cold case, and single-handedly saved the city. Or something like that. When Gates gave her Monday off, she took it gladly.

She emailed Castle that she'd be sleeping in, warning him not to look for her, and then crawled into bed and pulled the covers up.

She woke once when a car alarm went off outside, but fell back asleep before it quit. At some point, her phone vibrated on the bedside table, but she couldn't move to get it. She should, she really should, but it was too much effort and everyone who cared knew she had the day off.

When she realized she'd been on her right side for a while now, that her ear was throbbing with the remnants of last week's sinus infection, she slowly opened her eyes.

Late afternoon light spilled over her shoulder and painted the wall beside her bed. She lay there for a moment, then rolled onto her back, blinking up at the ceiling.

It was three-fifty. Her ribs ached, her ear was filled with fluid, and yet she felt so very, very good.

Wow. She'd needed that.

Kate sat up, swaying slightly, then checked her phone.

Two voicemails and a text. Email from Castle asking where she was.

I've got book stuff until 9. Will you be on?

Kate groaned and leaned over the side of the bed for her tablet computer - his stupid, silly (sweet) gift to her before he left for the UK tour - and pulled it up on top of the comforter. She woke it immediately, rubbing at her eyes as it established a wireless connection, then opened up the chat application.

He was there.

About time.

She smirked and propped herself up in bed, paused over the screen's pop-up keyboard. The chat was always nice, but she wanted his voice, without the terrible lags and delays that always went with skype or facetime.

Call me.

And then she put the ipad to sleep, dropped it back on the floor, and slid down into bed. She wasn't usually a lounger, didn't laze around on a free Saturday, but she'd slept so late, so hard, that she was having trouble-

Her phone rang and she smiled, answered it as she curled up with her pillow.

"Hey there, world traveler."

"Hey yourself. You sound sexy. Just wake up?

"Mm-hm," she murmured and burrowed further under the covers, her body heating at just the casual way he'd said sexy. "What'd you do today?"

"Book party. I miss you."

"I bet you do."

"Hey now. You don't miss me?"

"I've been asleep all day. No time to miss you."

He sighed over the phone, making a noise in his throat like he was clucking at her, and she felt like humming in response. Wanted so badly to have him with her in bed.

"Glad you had a day off. How was Gates about the other thing?"

"Not happy," she growled and pressed her hand over her eyes. "But it helped that you weren't here to - to rile her up."

"Yeah," he laughed, that rich chuckle that crawled inside her chest and purred.

"You gotta stop making her so mad at you."

"She's mad all on her own. I just look at her wrong and she gets mad."

"But now you're doing it on purpose."

"Heh, yeah. I am."

She snorted and rubbed her eye, yawned as sleep began to leave her. "Now that she knows, you're gonna have to be on your best behavior, Castle."

"Yeah, I know. Boorrring."

She laughed back and switched hands, rolling to her other side to look out the windows. The light was beautiful, limning the roof garden, making her scraggly plants look healthy again. She'd been neglectful these last few weeks; she spent more time at the station than her own place.

"So. Book party. Meet any hot chicks?"

"None," he said with relish. "It's so disappointing. It's like they've all disappeared. I don't know what's happened. Ooh, Beckett, you should hop the pond and help me investigate."

"You better not be investigating."

"Not without you," he murmured, his voice dipping low. Cheesy, smarmy, and it still worked. She felt her body curl into the sound of him.

"Castle."

"Hmm?"

"That's a no on the threesome."

He barked a laugh that made her smile in response, glad she could still surprise him.

"What's tomorrow like for you?" she said, once his mirth died down.

"Oh, crap. I have a meeting at seven and the handler is here at six to have me sign books beforehand to give out. And then after that, there's a goodwill thing with the UK publishing house, lunch with the secondhand retailers, and then . . . uh, I can't remember. Oh, I think we leave Edinburgh after that."

"Mm, that means you've got to go to bed soon," she sighed.

"Yeah," he said softly. "I do."

"I'm sorry. I didn't hear my phone."

"What's the point of having the international call plan if you don't answer?" he laughed.

"I know. I wish-"

"You needed the sleep, Kate."

She listened to him breathing on the other end, felt the warmth of him even though he wasn't here. She really could fall back asleep, even having slept so long; she'd been running ragged these past three weeks, trying to keep herself busy.

"I wouldn't have needed so much sleep if you'd been here," she said.

"Wow. That's a terrible thing to say."

"What?"

"You implying that I'm a snooze? Or that maybe I can't keep you up all night? Way to hit a guy where it hurts, Beckett."

She laughed, a little breathless with the sudden image of how well he could keep her up all night. "Not exactly what I meant."

"Whew. Good to hear. What did you mean?"

"Just trying to keep busy. It's lonely at home."

"Without me, you mean? Aww, you getting sappy?"

"No," she snorted, switching sides again. "It's not sappy if it's the truth."

"Sure it is. You're getting all maudlin, pining away for me."

"I am not pining."

His little noise of disbelief was so clear that she could almost see him standing beside her at the murder board, dismissing her idea, backing his own theory.

She sighed, giving in just a little. "Too busy to pine."

"Which means you're just not letting yourself pine. I got it."

"You got nothing."

"I got you."

She closed her eyes, let it wrap around her like his arms. Always his words, his words. How they'd loved her when she was grieving her mother, how they'd loved her in his stead, how they still did.

"Kate?"

"You got me," she assured him, breathing softly.

"I hate this," he sighed.

"What?" Her eyes flickered open.

"Getting so little time with you."

She sighed with him over the line, so far away, the seven hour time difference. "You should go to bed, Rick."

"Already in bed," he murmured.

"Mm, me too."

"Sing me a lullaby."

She laughed. "No."

"Ye-es," he whined. "Please? Just this once."

"No, Castle. You hang up and be the world famous author."

She could seriously hear him grinning. "Yeah. World famous. How do you like that?"

"I kinda hate it, actually," she said dryly. "Means you're in Edinburgh, Scotland, while I'm in New York."

"It's not like LA or Iowa City would really be any closer."

"The time difference, Castle. We've had thirty minutes to talk and I'm just starting my day. I won't get to hear your voice when I go to bed."

He laughed and she could hear the click of the light going off on his side. He really was in bed. "Well, Kate, who's fault is that? You just starting the day?"

"Yours. We've already discussed this."

"Ah, yes, I'm to blame for your workaholism. Sure, sure."

"You are. Because your absence keeps me at the station."

"Or maybe my lack of sterling insight into your cases keeps them open longer."

"Hmm," she frowned, not liking that idea.

"Yeah, that's what it is. Your solve rate has gone up since I came on scene."

It had, actually. Damn. "That's just because I was a young detective when you showed up. Everyone gets better with experience."

"You were so very young," he said softly, and she felt the strange sorrow in his voice.

"Castle?"

"Too young for me."

"And, conversely, you were too immature for me. So we're even."

He sighed. "You were young, but now you're beautiful. More beautiful every year."

She felt her body melt into the sheets. Because even though it sounded like a line, it wasn't. It was one of those honest things that came out of his mouth without his brain really thinking it through. And she loved those things, loved them.

Most times.

"Castle." She could mess with him, say something like You saying I wasn't beautiful back then? but she had a feeling he'd just dig a deep hole for himself. And she didn't want to mess with him only to get that stumbling and stupid Castle in return. It was late for him. It wouldn't be fair. "Castle, you should go to sleep."

"Yeah, I'm getting too melancholy. Time for bed. You gonna tuck me in?"

"Sure." She paused, listened to the faint shock on his end, smiled through his speechlessness. "You still there, Rick?"

"Yeah," he said, a little breathless. "Beautiful and hot. Did I say hot? You are so hot."

She laughed, bit her lip to keep from saying anything more. This was still so nascent, so fragile a surface tension. "You might have forgotten to mention hot."

"Let me correct that. Sexy as hell."

"I think hell is pretty hot."

He hummed on a laugh and she heard rustling on his end, imagined him in some hotel room bed, beige walls, strange abstract art, taupe bedspread. And now she did feel like messing with him just a little.

"Castle. Don't be starting without me."

He gasped and choked on another laugh; she grinned widely and rolled onto her back, watching the sunlight shift as it filtered off the leaves and plants growing along her terrace garden.

"That was evil, Beckett. I need to get some actual sleep here. Fantasizing about you will only make me restless."

She bit her lip and softened. "Okay, Rick. Say good night."

"I don't wanna."

"Faster you go to sleep, the sooner it's morning. The sooner you get out of there. And come home to me."

He sighed softly on the other end; she felt it like a stroke of his fingers down the side of her face, leaned her cheek into the phantom touch.

"Kate," he murmured.

"I love you," she whispered, cracking first, unable to help herself, wanting him and needing him and so tired of not having him. A handful of days was all they'd had, a handful of days before his UK book tour.

"Oh, Kate. I love you too."

And then she hung up, because she knew he wouldn't, because it always fell on her to be strong.

But she stayed in bed, closed her eyes to the sunlight, and imagined it was dark as night, imagined that the susurration of cars outside her window was actually his soft breathing in her ear.

And she found she could believe it.