Lean Wide Out the Window

A/N: I received this prompt and couldn't help immediately latching onto it. A pre-"Live of Others" idea which gives us: some cuddly fic where we could see KATE doing all in her power to be the partner for Castle... where she leans wide out the window just to make the man she loves happy.

"That was a mistake," he says, hears it in his own voice, how the pain has made it airy and light, insubstantial. "Won't try that again."

"Yes, you will," she says back, softly, from somewhere overhead. Her fingers are hot against the cold of his skin, circle his jaw. "You'll forget all about how bad this hurts, and the next time we go skiing, you'll try it again. I know you, Castle."

He grunts, part laughter and part sharp pain, but he tries to keep it coming. For her. Because he can see how having him crumpled crookedly in the dense snowbank on the side of a mountain they were helicoptered to in the first place doesn't make her happy. Makes her think things. Things about green grass and rows of tombstones, things about screams and a bullet to the chest.

Her fingers are so warm against his skin. She takes another look at his knee and comes back to him with a grim face, eyes tight. "You're fine," she lies.

"Uh-huh," he mumbles back. His whole leg is on fire, already so swollen and hot to the touch that the snow cradling it actually feels like bliss. She's made little piles along his leg as if to brace it, and even now she carefully eases more ice along his ripped open snowsuit. That can't be good - that the slide down the mountain caused his ski pants to tear open. Can't be good at all.

"Hey. Castle, open your eyes."

He startles them open, a jerk of surprise that rebounds with agony. When did he close his eyes? "I'm awake." He blinks as snow begins to fall, flakes dusting his lashes, and he can't shake it off, can't clear his vision as it unfurls from the sky. "Sorry I ruined our vacation."

"Not ruined. I had a good time. Never tried snowboarding before," she says... lamely is all he can think to call it. Lame. She's so not convincing.

The snow is light, little fingers that caress.

He feels strange. "My leg's hot," he says finally.

"Yeah, but I'm more into your ass," she says back, giving him a brittle smile.

He laughs, a puff of air that disturbs the snow - like a snow globe - up and fluttering around her cheeks. "Thanks, I've always thought I had a good ass... You look pretty with the snow falling around you."

She tilts her head and her fingers curl around his hand. "It's not snowing."

Oh.

"Castle. That's not funny."

He wasn't joking.

"Sorry," he says instead, but she must hear the confusion that bleeds through because she curls her arm under his neck and shifts a little. His head comes to her lap and she leans over him, blocking the grey sky from view. No more snow. Just the white of her eyes.

"They've got to be on their way," she says quickly. "He said he'd pick us up in thirty minutes and that was nearly forty minutes ago."

"Good thing I broke my leg when we were mostly done," he says, trying for a smile. Neither of them find one.

"When we don't show at the bottom, they'll come looking," she says again. Like she's trying to convince herself.

His fingers are still in their gloves, insulated and flexible enough as he lifts a hand and catches the side of her face, strokes her cheek. He can't feel her skin through the neoprene, but her eyes are intent on him, demanding.

"They're already looking," he confirms.

Their phones don't work up here - of course not; that was the point of taking the helicopter to the top and snowboarding down. He picked up the sport years ago, he always feels good on the board, and she's been taking lessons for nearly the whole week, getting progressively faster, quicker, smarter - a natural. So yeah, he wanted to show off a little, show her tricks she hasn't even seen yet.

Stupid. Really stupid. It almost worked.

"Castle, keep your eyes open."

He grunts and drags his lids up, sees the frighteningly grim determination on her face. "Just a broken leg. Probably my knee. It's fine," he says, cupping her elbow where she's clutching him. "I'll be fine. Just... hurts a lot."

She nods, but even her agreement is a lie. And he doesn't understand why. It's just a broken leg; the helicopter will do a search when they don't show and the rescue team at the lodge will take snowmobiles up here to get them. She's wearing a bright red ski jacket; his pants have those reflective stripes; it's not like they'll have to camp out during the night and worry about who eats whom first.

It's fine. It's really fine. And her body is so warm at his neck and shoulders, her bare fingers against his cheek. The soft rub of her thumb over his bottom lip would be faintly erotic if it weren't for lying in a snowbank with his lower body cold and splintered with pain.

"Castle. Eyes open."

He takes a short breath as he does, surprised again, confused, trying to pinpoint the moment it happens so he won't close them again, but he can't even feel it when it goes. His lips are chapped and numb and maybe it's because she's tracing them around and around with her bare thumb - but when he checks, when he glances down at her hand, she's actually not. She's not touching his lips at all.

She has one arm around his neck, the other clutching his shoulder.

"Kate? I... feel funny." His lips are numb.

"You're going into shock," she says, her voice brittle even as her body is so strong around him. "You've got to keep your eyes open, Castle."

"Can you die from shock?" he mumbles, chest tingling, tightening.

"Yes," she says shortly, as if it's jerked from her throat. "But you're not. Keep your eyes open. Keep talking to me."

"I could tell you a dirty story," he grins, but his lips don't work right.

She grunts but the laugh pops out, a bright bubble in the cold. "Fine. Tell me a dirty story."

He feels his mouth drawing into a crooked smile but he can't find words to get past the dark leak of her eyes across his vision. Like ink spreading in water, seeking an end. How can she look both so sad and so fierce at the same time?

"Castle. How does it start?"

He blinks and the world shimmers, static in his television, snow, the soft fall of flakes...

"Castle."

"Once upon a time," he mumbles, eyes wide, trying to stay. "I mean, no. Wait. Dark and stormy night. Yeah."

She has a furrow in her forehead that smooths only slightly. "Stormy, huh?"

"Yeah. Loads of lightning. The blue flash..." The thunder in his head and his memory morphs into the rush and shiver of cacophonous sound, and he smiles up at her, relieved. "Oh, good. The boat is here."

"Castle."

But it's okay, it's okay, it's just the boat. "Hear it? Rough seas."

The thrum is everywhere, building in his ribs and aching behind his eyes, but he can tell she hears it too. Even through the rocking and the seasickness now roiling in his guts, she must still hear the boat. She twists, her fingers warm against his cheeks as she holds him to her, but he feels the answering tremble in her body and the slump of twin relief.

"Snowmobile, it's the snowmobile. Oh, God." Her fingers curl hard under his neck and she's moving away, leaving him to the snow and the dust of cold layering along his eyelashes. "I'm gonna flag them down. Hold on, Castle."

It's really nice here; he picked a good spot. His eyes are overwhelmed by the magnanimity of snow and he lets his mind untether from the mountain.