a/n: Inspired by "Honey and the Moon" by, and written as a present for, Sandiane Carter. Coverart by softer. Edited by chezchuckles.

cinq petits contes que la lune peut raconter

five little stories the moon can tell

(pour julie. parce que.)

1er.

He snores a little bit.

Kate wakes up occasionally to the slow, deep skknnxxxxxxx rumbling against her. It's not hard to deal with. She knows if she pokes him in the chest, or presses her hand to his cheek just so for a few seconds, he'll gurgle and let out a little puff of air, and roll over just enough to stop.

He refuses to believe her when she tells him he sounds like a foghorn. Claims she must be dreaming. "My slumber is peaceful and silent and sexy, Kate."

She kisses his cheek. "I didn't say it wasn't sexy."

2e.

She drools sometimes.

He wakes up when she kicks. Beckett's strong; she's got a pretty powerful kick, even when she's asleep. He winces a bit, rubbing his sore shin, and is about to poke her and wake her up when he rolls far enough to see her face.

She's drooling on his billion-thread-count sheets, her face creased from the seam on the pillowcase.

Castle bites back the laugh, not wanting to wake her. He traces one hand gently over the side of her face, brushing her hair back. She lets out a breath and nuzzles instinctively into his touch, some meaningless syllables escaping her lips on a sigh.

She's too adorable to wake up, so he just tugs the sheet higher and wipes her mouth with it. She flinches at the touch, wrinkles her nose, before sinking back into deep sleep. He curls his arm around her waist and settles in with her, careful to avoid the wet spot on the pillow.

He'll tease her for it in the morning.

3e.

They both get nightmares.

She's watched him dream things he won't talk about later, seen the violent clench of his muscles. He doesn't come out of it quickly. She murmurs soft things to him, rubs his shoulder gently, until his eyes flicker open and he takes a breath. He's quiet afterwards, like he's ashamed she's seen him in such a dark place. She kisses his shoulder, his neck, his cheek, his mouth, until she feels his pulse slow under her fingertips.

He's seen her cry in her sleep.

One night, he emerges from the fog of sleep, bleary and dazed, to the sensation of warm dampness on his shoulder. He blinks his eyes open slowly. It's her. Her head is resting against him. Tears are slowly streaming down her cheeks, soaking his shirt.

"Kate?" he whispers, touching her shoulder tentatively, trying to wake her gently. "Kate."

She slips out of bed and goes into the bathroom. He hears the faucet run. He wants to go check on her, but he's learned Kate Beckett. He knows her. She needs a moment. She'll come back. She doesn't run from him anymore.

He thinks maybe the fact that she lets him see her cry is the most painfully beautiful part of this overwhelming love that swamps his whole mind and heart.

When she comes back, crawls into bed again, she curls up against him, slipping her arms around his waist and burying her face in his shoulder.

"You okay?" he whispers.

She nods wordlessly, burrowing closer into his arms. He's noticed this about her. She's come to crave the reassurance of physical contact when she's upset. It calms her more than talking.

She falls asleep again before he does. He runs his hand over her hair, watching her tearstained face, and doesn't drift off again for a long while.

4e.

There are nights she wakes up in the darkness and can't stop touching him.

Sometimes it's because she wakes up from a nightmare that ends in a world where there's no him. Sometimes she's too wound up to get back to sleep. Sometimes she has no reason for it at all. She just opens her eyes to the dark ceiling and needs him.

Sometimes it takes him a while to wake up. There's something delicious in waking him slowly, sliding her hands over the length of his body, under his clothes, using her lips and tongue and slow, teasing nips of her teeth to drag him back to consciousness.

It's the moment his eyes open when she knows she has him, the quick breath as his body tenses and his eyes meet hers in a gaze that's pure heat and seduction because she just invaded whatever dream he was having and she can't stop touching him. There's a heated desperation in her hands, a burning fire in her skin, and she never has to say anything because he just understands. He raises himself over her and she feels blind, shuddering, bare and offered before him and helpless and alive.

When she finds herself writhing on the pillows, her fingernails digging into the sweaty skin of his back, it's a hot wash of too much and darkness and perfect and just so completely, deeply filled until she breaks apart, seizing up in uncontrollable surrender under him.

And somehow, afterwards, every time, he's so tender. He kisses her shoulder and brushes her hair back and rubs gentle circles on her stomach, whispering soft things into her skin.

She's not sure, but she thinks more than once, she's fallen asleep hearing him whisper I love you.

5e.

He wakes up early and just watches her sleep sometimes.

She's always beautiful, but in the early morning sunlight, she's stunning. The light gilds her hair and throws a glow over her fair skin, the delicate lines of her cheekbones, the soft dark sweep of her eyelashes. She's a beautiful that makes his chest ache. She's a beautiful that makes everything else pale and second and less.

She yawns and her eyes flutter open, soft and hazel and rich with sleep. "Mmm. Morning."

"Morning." He leans over to kiss her smile, flush and bright with morning.

She hums into his mouth. "You were watching me sleep again."

"So?" He kisses her again. And then again, because he can. "You're gorgeous. Why shouldn't I look at you?"

"Because I just woke up." She props herself up on an elbow, rubbing her face. "I'm gross."

"Not possible. You're lovely."

She scowls, though there's not a lot of conviction in it. "Castle. Need to brush my teeth."

"Nope." He kisses her again. "You're perfect."

"Can I be perfect and minty?"

"I guess so," he sighs. She runs her palm over his cheek, letting her thumb slip teasingly over his bottom lip before she slides out of bed, naked and unabashed as she walks to his bathroom. Early pale sunlight lights up the slim curves of her body and she's too perfect for words.

"Kate." She turns back, curious. He swallows back the words I want to marry you. Goes for the next best thing. "I love you."

Her cheeks flush a soft pink, but she smiles shyly. All this time. It still makes her blush.

"You love me, huh?"

"I do."

She bites her lip, her eyes dancing. "Then come over here and prove it."

He stumbles after her into the bathroom, and she turns on the water and pulls him with her into the shower; he captures her mouth again and starts providing proof.

It's daylight by the time they finish but she still looks at him like she does at night.

fin.