Decaying Orbit

Author: Palgrave

Rating: G, maybe PG-13

Fandom: Castle

Pairing: Kate Beckett/Richard Castle

Disclaimer: Well played, Andrew Marlowe and ABC. Well played indeed...

Author's Notes: Quick post-episode vignette for "Always". Because, okay, I was losing faith there a little bit, but WOW.

One use of the 'f' word. Feedback, constructive criticism and use of the 'kudos' button always welcome. Hope you enjoy!

Summary: He let her in. Post-ep for "Always"

The rain drums on the windows, and he sleeps, and she watches him sleep. And normally she'd think it was a little bit creepy, but she's not sure she can ever stop, doesn't know if she'll ever be able to look away or let him out of her sight ever again now that she's here.

Because he let her in.

Because he had every reason not to, she'd given him every reason not to, but he let her in anyway. Into his apartment, into his bed, into his life.

He let her in.

Part of her still can't believe it, was convinced she'd used up all of her chances. Convinced there was no more room in that big, warm heart of his for her. But he let her in, and he didn't have to, by all rights should have pushed her out the door and shut it on her face. Should have kept his promise to have nothing more to do with her. But he didn't, he let her in, and and she's so grateful she could cry, just burst into tears and never stop weeping.

She snuggles closer to him, closer to his warmth. She's cold, and not just because she spent hours walking in the rain - although honestly, that didn't help, it's been hours and she still feels freezing, in retrospect not one of her wiser moments - and he's so warm it's like having her own personal sun. All this time, she'd thought he was just chasing her, but now it feels like she's been in decaying orbit, spiraling faster and further out of control until impact, until she was caught in the pull of his gravity and finally hit where she was supposed to be.

And now, their clothes surrounding his bed - their bed? Is it their bed now? Is she ready to take that step? Normally she'd worry she'd be taking things too fast, but it's not as if 'too fast' can be applied to any stage of their relationship so far - on the floor like the debris after after impact, it feels inevitable. Like it was meant to happen. And all that chaos and pain and confusion feels so worth it now, in the peace after impact.

(Space metaphors. She's using space metaphors to describe being with the man she loves. He's affected her more than she realizes. Either that, or she's already coming down with a fever.)

She wants to wake him up, thank him in all the ways she knows how for taking in her in, for still loving her even after all the reasons she's given him not to. Promise him that she won't waste this second chance he's given her, won't ever cast him aside ever again. But it's late, or early, and she's cold and hot and she's lost her job and there's people out there who want her dead, and fuck it, none of it matters because she loves him and he loves her and he let her in and she's here now and she can't imagine being anywhere else.

And she's not going anywhere. Not any more.

And so he sleeps. And she doesn't want to wake him, because she's caused enough trouble for him and he's earned his rest (in more ways than one). She'll worry about the future tomorrow. She'll have all the time in the world to worry about the future then, because she's with him now.

Because he let her in.

And besides, he's kind of cute when he's sleeping.

So she settles for letting her fingertips brush his chest, as if to make sure he's there, that he's real, and not a desperate, cruel illusion like before. And when she's satisfied that the beat of his heart under her fingertips and the warmth of his body is real, she leans into him, touches her lips to his neck, rests her head on his shoulder and watches the rise and fall of his chest as he breathes.