Omg this one sounds amazing "instead of dividing up the CD’s, let’s play a drinking game to determine who gets what (it may or may not end in sex)" u can obviously write it any way u want but I would love for them to get together in the end even if there's no actual sex scene 😃😃 p.s. Just gotta add that I think ur an amaziiinnggg writer
“Your shirt,” Kate announces, the smile loose and lovely as it spills across her lips like the alcohol trickling through her veins.
Her entire body is relaxed and humming, pleasant waves lapping through her bloodstream, the constant weight she’s felt in her chest finally gone. She feels good.
“Beckett,” Castle whines from across her coffee table, pouting at her from his spot on the floor, and despite the liquor clouding her brain, despite the reason he’s even here, she manages to find him completely adorable. “I like this shirt.”
“Mm, so do I,” she replies, tapping her index finger to her newest word on the board. Drunk Scrabble to determine who laid claim over items that were mutually owned had been a brilliant idea. She almost wants to thank him for suggesting it, just to see him glower.
“How does this even qualify as both of ours?” he grumbles, unbuttoning the charcoal grey dress shirt she’s worn many mornings.
“Because, Castle, I’ve probably worn that shirt almost as much as you have,” she quips, lowering her hands to her lap to refrain from maneuvering around the table, helping rid him of the fabric his fingers fumble over.
Though, they do hasten at her words.
“Hurry up and take it off so you can take your drink,” she murmurs, directing her gaze back to the half filled board of letters in front of her.
“If I didn’t know you as well as I do, I would assume you were trying to get me blackout drunk so you can rob me of all my stuff,” he huffs, slipping his arms free of the sleeves, cursing when his wrist gets caught in the right and he has to do far too much tugging.
Kate rolls her eyes and catches the shirt he tosses towards her. “I’m not one of your ex-wives.”
He goes still in the same instance she does and all of that wonderful lightness drains from her system, replaced with lead.
“I’m sorry, I wasn’t-”
“No, it’s fine,” he waves her off, but the expression on his face is no longer teasing and playful as it had been, grave and solemn instead. “Also true. I sure know how to pick ‘em, don’t I?”
She watches him lift the tumbler to his lips, down the remaining liquid left in the glass, the line of his throat rippling, and she follows the descent of the alcohol, caresses the bared planes of his chest with her gaze.
“You know that’s not what I meant,” she argues quietly, taking a sip from her own glass even though it isn’t her turn.
“Maybe not,” he muses, lowering his glass to the table with a little too much force, releasing it with careful fingers. “But, well, I did marry two women whose main focus was money, either from the start or a gradual progression. Didn’t get to marry you, but already know you wouldn’t have been like that. Never were.”
Kate sucks in a shuddering breath, the hazy edges of her sobriety beginning to clear, allowing her to see the harshness of his features, of this new reality she’s created for them.
“I never loved you for your money, Rick,” she confirms softly, smoothing out his shirt over her lap.
Castle scrapes a hand through his hair, scrubs at his cheek while he avoids her eyes.
Kate sighs and drops her gaze to the board, but all of the letters are beginning to blend together and she can’t locate a spot to create a new word.
“Pass,” she decides, filling her matching tumbler with another finger of whiskey, taking the shot with a quick swallow, and she tries to relish the burn of the liquor through her bloodstream, the sensation of spreading warmth. But the pleasure is gone and the alcohol tastes like acid in the back of her throat.
“Ooh, does that mean it’s my turn to choose something?” he inquires with a quirk of his brow, but that gleeful delight from earlier is long gone now, their little game not so much fun anymore.
“Looks that way,” she chuckles, watching him rise from the floor, gripping the arm of her couch for balance when he wobbles. “Where are you going?”
“That bird I gave you for Halloween all those years ago, from my Poe costume-”
“No!” she gasps, stumbling to her feet to catch him by the shoulders before he can pass her by, head into her office where that stupid bird is perched above her desk. “That’s not mutually owned, that’s mine-”
“So was my shirt, Beckett-”
She growls and tugs on his naked shoulder. Hard.
Castle curses as he careens sideways, gripping her arm from balance, but it’s no use, they’re both teetering now, collapsing to the floor.
“Jesus, Kate, you didn’t have to tackle me for it,” he groans, using her couch once more to heave himself up, into a sitting position this time, helping her lift to her knees at his side. “I had no idea a fake raven held such a special place in your heart.”
The cocky smile he shoots her is reminiscent of those from their early days of working together, when she absolutely hated him. It elicits the same rush of irritation through her system, the same exasperation, the same flood of arousal.
“You can’t just take back a gift, you jerk,” she points out, shoving on his shoulder when he laughs at her.
She doesn’t point out how that fake bird holds memories that matter to her, flashbacks to that case with Morlock, his Halloween party, that moment in the break room she had never been able to shake. His face so close, his eyes on her lips, all of that playboy charm evaporating beneath the sheer want jolting through the electric blues of his eyes that she can still recall so clearly.
It had been the first time she had almost given in, just leaned in and stolen a kiss from his infuriating mouth.
Much like she wants to now, but it wouldn’t be fair. Not when they’ve called it quits, not when she’s moving to a different city in less than a month, not when they’re both still heartbroken from he declination of his proposal at their swings.
“So I have to pick something else?” he sighs, his bleary eyes roaming around her apartment before eventually falling back to land on her.
Castle snags his fingers in the hem of her NYPD t-shirt, stretching the edge of the soft, worn fabric towards him.
“I want this.”
“I hate to break it to you, but I don’t think you’ll be able to wear this, Castle,” she informs him with a lazy smirk, her abdominals quivering with restraint, fighting the urge to follow the gentle pull of his fingers, drift into his side.
“Maybe I just want something to remember you by.”
Kate purses her lips, but his eyes won’t return to meet hers, lingering on the coil of his finger in her shirt, how close he is to touching bare skin.
And then she surprises them both.
“Okay,” she murmurs, dislodging his fingers when she grips the hem of her t-shirt in her own, glides the fabric over her head and drops it into his lap. “You keep mine. I keep yours.”
Castle stares down at the shirt, his brow knit in a crease she doesn’t understand. She just gave him her shirt and she’s sitting in front of him in just her bra – he should be thrilled.
“I’d rather keep you.”
Her lungs seize painfully within her sternum, collapsing, making room for the crumble of her heart.
“I didn’t need a ‘yes’ that day,” he states, curling his fingers in the pool of material, smoothing it between his fingers. “We ended it that day on the swings, but I never… I want to marry you, Kate, but more than anything, I just want you. However I can have you.”
She doesn’t miss the change in his tenses, past to present. How he still wants her.
“Even if it was from afar? Me in DC, you here?” she questions, attempting to bring up all of the reasons they had decided it would be better for them to just end it now, before it could fall apart on its own.
Rick shrugs, casts his eyes towards the nearly empty bottle on the table, but alcohol isn’t the answer. Not the one she wants.
Kate leans forward on her knees, touches her fingers to his jaw to regain his attention, feeling his chest tremble with the sharp breath he takes before returning his eyes to her, doing his best to avoid her state of undress, focus solely on her face.
“I can write from anywhere, Kate.”
It’s all the answer she needs, using the drape of her palm at his jaw to balance her as she sways towards him, humming when he catches her by the waist just as she seals her mouth to his.
Castle moans, a breathless sound of relief, of contentment, a sound that welcomes her back, welcomes her home.
Kate slips her hands to his chest, splaying her palms over all of the tantalizing flesh that had called for her touch earlier, trailing them down the planes of his torso, grazing her fingertips along his nipples and grinning at the growl that climbs his throat, the nip of his teeth to her upper lip. Her fingers fit between the spaces of his ribs and her palms caress his sides while she favors his bottom lip, sucks and soothes with her tongue, digging her nails into his skin when he slides his fingers into her hair, coaxes her head into the angle he needs to plunge his tongue deep inside her mouth, to rob her of breath and ignite sparks that flicker behind her closed eyes.
“I would have said yes,” she gasps, her chest crushing against his at the ragged intensity of her breathing, and Castle’s eyes flutter open, his lashes lifting to mingle with hers. “I wanted - when you asked me, it just felt all wrong. With the job and our fight. Didn’t’ feel right.”
His hands scale the naked expanse of her back, thumbs stroking the curved bow of her spine until they hook in the clasp of her bra, and Kate arches her chest, sighs out when the lingerie falls loose.
She’s almost surprised by the quick maneuvering of his body, how he shifts forward and gently pins hers to the ground in one fluid motion, eases the black cotton from her breasts with a single sweep of his hand.
“DC could be great,” he mumbles, his fingers tangling in her hair while hers climb his back, arms lacing around his body, drawing him down into the cradle of hers. “We could be great.”
“Proven fact,” she agrees on a gasp when he rolls his hips into hers, has her body arcing from the floor to collide with his. “Oh, we’re so great together, Castle.”
She hooks her legs around his waist, twines them at his back as she rocks her hips, lifts her head to recapture the fit of his mouth, the taste of his kiss and the searing seal of his skin to hers more intoxicating than the abandoned alcohol.
“I love you,” Castle presses the words against her lips, a desperate declaration that rushes free, and her heart exalts with the rest of her body, that pleasant sensation of warmth spilling through her once more, stronger than ever.
Kate cups his face in her hands, momentarily gentling the work of his mouth, just long enough for her to catch her breath, to speak, say one more thing-
“Ask me again.”