10. Chapter 10

"Kate!"

She jumps as the shower door is yanked open, his head and shoulders peering in through the steam. Her razor nicks her knee and she hisses.

"Damn it. Castle."

"I got a phone call!"

Cold air rushes into the shower, making goose bumps rise across her flesh. She grits her teeth and rubs a hand over her leg, shivering. Can't shave her legs now. "Castle. In or out."

He raises an eyebrow at her, strips his tshirt off, walks into the shower in just his shorts.

She backs up, startled, dropping her razor. "Castle." Her heart flutters. You just had him. Here in fact. Stop it.

"Wearing my trunks, Kate." He grins at her and shuts the shower door, his turquoise swim-trunks spotting under the spray. "Shaving?"

She frowns fiercely to get rid of the sudden ache in her belly. "Not now. What are you doing?"

"I got a phone call while we were - you know - in here earlier. Voicemail. From the car rental place at the airport."

She squats down and swipes up her fallen razor, holding on to his forearm to keep her balance. He twists his arm and catches her around the wrist, his eyes excited as she stands back up.

"The rental agency. Okay. So?"

"They have Totoro!"

She jerks her head up to look at him. "What?"

"They found the little beast under a chair in the lobby, around closing time, figured out it must be ours. They waited to call until this morning."

Her heart eases; shower forgotten. "Oh my God. Oh thank you." She closes her eyes and leans her forehead against his chin, takes a gasping breath as water strikes her face.

His fingers tangle in her wet hair; he kisses her temple. "Hey, whoa, Kate. It's okay. Even if we never found Toto, it still would've been fine. No damage done."

She nods, but the relief is so great she can't even hide it. "We can go get it?"

"Oh, wait, here's the best part. They're already driving a car down to Port Isabel, so they're sending Totoro with the car. He'll be at the rental place there. All we have to do is drive over the causeway and get him."

"Oh thank you God." And she thinks she really is praying. Praising. It is that great a relief.

Castle chuckles and his fingers twist in her hair, pull her head away from him. "When I talked to the lady at the airport rental place, she said the car gets here around noon. I figure that gives us some time to hang out here, eat a late breakfast with the kids, then drive over to Port Isabel for groceries and whatever else we need."

"Perfect." She smiles at him, thinks to hold her razor away from him, and leans in to thoroughly thank his mouth. Her gratitude showers all over the place.

Castle's hand slides along her arm, to her palm, gently disarms her. He holds the razor, breaks her kiss, and grins wickedly at her.

"Can I do it?"

She swats his chest. "No, Castle. Last time I let you shave my legs, I looked like a murder victim."

He grins wider. "Yeah, but I've been practicing."

"On who?"

"Okay. I haven't been practicing. But I'd get better if you let me practice on you."

"No thanks. The ocean is salty. Practice some other time." She takes her razor back and lifts on tiptoes to get the angle just right, captures his mouth with a searing kiss.

She can feel his groan echo all the way down into her knees, in that place behind her knees where it both tickles and arouses her.

"Mmm," she murmurs. "Round two?"

"Thought you'd never ask. We should lose Totoro more often."

"Shut your mouth."

Castle pulls the door shut softly and grins wider. He pads barefoot back down the hall and into the living room, practically weightless with it.

Kate appears at the open sliding glass door with her sunglasses in her hand; she grins back at him with a question on her face.

Castle bounces over to her and leans down to press a kiss to her mouth. "Guess what?"

"Don't know. Tell me."

"Our son - our insomniac son? - he's asleep."

"Shut the front door." She steps back, startled, and Castle grins wider, entirely pleased with the second round of excellent news he's been able to give her today. And the way she keeps eyeing him, this more relaxed, vacation Kate who he hasn't seen so much lately-

"Can we keep score today? Please?" He steps closer to her, backing her out onto the balcony.

She slides her hands up his chest, hooks her arms around his neck. He can feel the earpiece of her sunglasses against the back of his head. "You think today we can beat our high score?"

"Hell yeah, give me half a chance." He leans down to kiss her again, feeling his blood stir in response to the very idea. "I just need to know if we're scoring by number of encounters or number of orgasms?"

"Shit," she groans, and he knows he's got her when she curses at him. She never curses at him unless she's aroused. Or really pissed. And sometimes those are the same thing.

"See, the way I figure it, we should score by the number of times I make you-"

"Oh jeez, stop. Stop," she laughs, but her body isn't saying stop. "Okay. We'll keep score today. But it's encounters, and you know it."

He grins back and loosens his hold, lets his hands spread across her lower back. He likes to build it up slowly with Kate, just because she gets frustrated so easily, gets worked up so easily. She'd do it quick and dirty every time, her teeth on his ear or clamped onto his neck, but he likes to make her suffer.

It probably says something about him. About her too. He doesn't really care. She's letting him keep score.

"And. . .can I tell Esposito and Ryan when we get back?" he adds, letting his fingertips dance along her spine, like he's playing her. Oh, he is.

She grunts and shakes her head, clearly trying to find breath or voice to refuse him.

"You gotta let me brag, Kate. Esposito's already beat our official high score twice-"

"Damn, can't let that happen," she murmurs back, brushing her cheek against his.

"Wouldn't have happened if you let me tell. He hasn't beaten our unofficial score."

She chuckles darkly; he hears the memory in that sound and his body quickens.

"Some things are just for us." She nibbles on his ear. Yup, he's so got her.

"Ah, Kate. Since we are keeping score? Let me point out: the kids are both still asleep; it's a fucking miracle."

She laughs out loud, pressing her forehead against his chest, her sides shaking with mirth. "Please promise me you never tell our son that you pray for opportunities to have sex. Not now, not when he's 30."

"Only sex with you. And God seems to hear my prayers."

"Well, that *does* make it okay," she laughs. When she lifts her head to look at him, he plants a gentle kiss against her lips, belying the crude nature of his words. She sighs into him, brushes her hand along his arm, her thumb at his bicep. He loves that; she knows it, of course. Still. He loves that little touch of hers, like she's checking out his muscle, the way her fingers grip his arm. Only Kate does this.

"You're the one who said we had to go to church. Give the kids some moral discipline. So if I'm waking up early on Sundays and going to West Park, I'm gonna pray for fuc-"

"Say that word again and your miracle happens on this balcony, Castle."

"I'm good with that-"

"I am not. There are little people down there. And balconies next door. You and your filthy mouth."

"Well, you're in luck," he says, tracing the edge of her collarbone with his fingertips, pulling away from her just enough so she can see his face, he can see hers. "I moved Ella into her own room. So our bed is ours again. And I think it's lonely."

"Oh, Richard Castle, I love you."

"I thought you might."

"Let's go keep score."

She wakes easily, stretches out in the sunshine creeping over the bed, feels her back pop, yawns, then opens her eyes. It's ten o'clock in the morning, she's had sex with her husband three times in about two hours, and both of her children are still asleep. Miracles all.

Oh, and she's on vacation.

Kate sits up slowly, feeling her cheeks hurt she's been grinning so much. She glances over at Castle but he is dead to the world, so far gone she's pretty sure she wouldn't be able to rouse him even for four.

She leans over and kisses his forehead, brushes her fingers through his hair, cradling his skull for half a second. Then she slides out of bed and heads for the bathroom.

Back in their room again, she rifles around in her bag for her iPad, crawls into bed with it. She starts to call up the notes, then chews on her lip as she checks the time again.

Her kids can't really still be sleeping. It is just not possible.

Oh well, Ella, yes. Ellery sleeps like the one next to her. But Dashiell? No way.

Kate leaves the iPad on the bed and goes hunting for her pajama pants, neglects to find them. She did have on shorts out on the balcony - where did those go? A quick search yields nothing, so she eases open their bedroom door and listens.

Quiet. No little ears, no little eyes. She tiptoes over to their suitcase and rifles through it, looking for something to wear. She discovers that she did a horrendous packing job, of course, and she's got a pair of jeans, some shorts, and workout clothes. So she grabs a pair of Castle's plaid boxers and slides them on over her underwear.

They sit very low on her hips and she has to tuck the back of her tshirt into the waistband to give it something to hold on to. She heads towards the kids' rooms.

Ella first. Just to see. She eases open the door closest to the front door and peeks inside. The light is off but sunlight spills in around the blinds, making it easy for Kate to see her daughter's sleepy eyes.

"Hey, little Cricket, did you just wake up?" Kate comes in quietly, kneels down beside the low bunk bed. If they left Dash alone in this room, he'd be jumping off the top bunk. Ellery will sleep in the bottom one and never even think about climbing the ladder.

Okay, not true. She will attempt it as well, she just won't go at it stupidly, risking her neck. She's almost three, and so very smart. And so very determined.

Ella's fat baby cheeks are pink with a long night's sleep, and Kate reaches out to brush her fingers over her baby girl's dark hair, flicking it out of her eyes. "Did you have a good night?"

Ellery twists her face back into the pillow and burrows into her covers. Kate smiles to herself and adjusts the sheet, tugs it up over her daughter's little body, then snaps the comforter out, resettles it around Ella.

"How's that, baby?" But she doesn't expect an answer, merely leans in to kiss her cheek. "Sleep as long you like."

Kate creeps back out, pulls the door to but not shut. Today's Recovery Day, as Castle likes to call it (he's making fun of her rules for vacation), and she did promise him that on the first full day after travel, they all got to sleep late, no schedules, no plans, just be.

So as much as she'd like to wake Ellery up, jostle her into awareness, put her in some clean clothes or a swimming suit, start the day, she doesn't. Because it's Recovery Day.

Kate rolls her eyes and walks down the hall to Dash's room. The bathroom door is still closed and she cracks it open too, leaves it pulled but not closed. She has a thing about her kids being behind closed doors; it doesn't sit well with her.

She opens Dashiell's door and sticks her head in, fully expecting to see Dash watching television. She needs to cut him off. It's been hours.

But he's asleep. He's truly asleep, mouth open, arms splayed wide like he does when he's managed to get into REM sleep. She stands in the doorway, shocked, and turns her head to the television.

Cartoons have come and gone; it's a kid show about twins who live in a hotel with their witch mother and mortal father. Or something. She might be confusing a couple of these.

She takes a hesitant step inside the room, but he doesn't even stir. The sound is down low, like she asked him, and he's still got a hand on his Transformer, but the covers are piled on his chest, leaving his limbs unencumbered.

The OT said he'd do that and she was right. They bought him a weighted blanket, but it always manages to slide to the floor during the night. Kate told Rick not to even pack it, afraid they might not be able to get it through security. But Dashiell has made his own kind of weighted blanket.

She bends over his bed, reluctant to touch him and break the spell. He's sweaty under all those bedclothes, but it's normal, deep-sleep sweat. Not sick with a raging fever sweat. Which is honestly one of the only explanations for his sleeping that she's got right now.

Kate leans down and presses gentle lips to his forehead. But he's not burning up. The television strobes across the bed on a commercial and she lifts her head, studying it for a moment, absorbed.

Then she shakes her head free of it, runs a hand through her still-wet hair.

This kid is getting a television in his room the moment they get home.