55. Chapter 55

Kate lays in bed for another moment, sweaty and sticky and alone, the sheets kicked down and off the bed, her eyes closed. She hears Castle in the bathroom, the sounds of the ocean beating against the shore as it comes in through the open balcony door. As her skin finally cools in the faint breeze, she opens her eyes.

Castle grins down at her, tosses her a tshirt. "It's clean."

She smiles back at him, lifts up to tug it on over her head. "Thanks." She shivers in the cool air, draws her knees up, watches Castle rearrange the bedsheets, pull everything back together. He must have grabbed boxers on his way to the bathroom, because now he's decent too.

Too bad. That was fun.

"I'm exhausted," Castle says suddenly, crawling back into bed now and pulling the sheets up over him.

Kate laughs, pleased, studies him as his body sinks into the mattress, his eyes drifting shut. The sheet comes up to his shoulder blades, but the moonlight casts his skin in a dark silver; he's already gotten some color being out on the beach.

She's not tired. And it's only midnight, which isn't so bad. "I'm gonna read. You mind?"

He grunts something like approval, halfway to unconsciousness, and she pats his cheek, kisses him as she crawls over him for the bathroom. She left her ipad in here to keep it away from the kids after their skype session with Alexis - the girl gets in tomorrow morning, with Rafe, and that makes Kate smile to think about.

She pulls the tablet from the charger and goes back into the bedroom, sees Castle flat on his stomach, an arm under his head, a palm on the warm spot she left beside him. Kate puts a knee beside his hip, jostles the bed a little on purpose as she climbs back over him.

He lifts an eyelid to look at her, neither irritated nor amused, entirely too tired for either one apparently. She likes that a lot, gives her a surge of female power seeing him flat out and worthless, entirely drained. Kate knows she's smirking at him, does nothing to conceal it.

She sits up against the headboard, tucking the pillow at her back, and pulls her knees up. Rick slides his hand down to circle her ankle, his eyes still open, fighting off sleep beautifully.

"Hey, babe," she says softly, brushing a hand over his temple, through his hair. She realizes she's just used his word, the one she hates, and sighs at herself. Castle looks too tired to notice.

He swallows and wriggles a little closer, his eyelids drooping.

She wakes up the tablet, keeping one hand curled at his skull, fingers scratching his scalp, as she calls up the book she's reading. She skipped Body Heat, the fourth book, because it reminds her too much of the Butcher, but the fifth one is lovely. For all its hidden meanings and secret messages - to her.

Kate starts skimming the page, searching for where she left off, then feels Castle tug sharply on her ankle. She lets her knees drop at his tug, legs straight out, and holds the ipad up, looking down at him.

He doesn't say anything, just curls his arm around her legs and puts his head in her lap with a long, sleepy sigh. A little thrill of arousal curls through her, having his mouth so close, his heat at her belly, her thighs, and she in nothing but a tshirt, but Castle's falling asleep, warm and heavy and anchoring her to the bed.

Kate puts the ipad to one side, strokes both hands through his hair, watching his eyes flicker shut. She traces designs on his face with her fingertips, slow and soft and hypnotic, feels her own body begin to wind down, settle. The lines of laughter and worry melt away, replaced with the rough edges of his stubbled skin, the slack lips, the jut of bone under his eye, the scar at his forehead. Her beautiful man.

His large frame is pressed against her legs, his mouth at her thigh, his head in her lap, cuddling against her, and she can't help but think that if she does eventually get pregnant, on purpose or by accident, it would be a welcome and lovely surprise.

Kate brushes her thumb along his cheek, softly, and lays her palm against his shoulder blade. She picks up the tablet again and settles in to read, cradling the warmth of him.

Castle wakes suddenly, grunting, blinks as he stares at nothing - something - not sure -

"Oh my word! Castle."

Kate? His mouth at her thigh, mm, lovely taste-

"Castle!"

"What?" he groans and lifts his head from heaven, realizing he's fallen asleep sprawled over her legs, in her lap. That's new. She let him do that? "Why are you squealing?"

"I'm not squealing," she hisses, and flips the ipad towards him. "Look what Madison just messaged me."

A photo. His eyes are worthless with sleep, the photo is blurry and taken in dim lighting, but that's a woman's hand and-

"Is that a ring?" He struggles against the craving of his body for sleep, to tumble right back down into it, and moves to sit up. Kate presses her hand on his shoulder, as if to keep him there, and he acquiesces, letting his body drape over her lower half. The lower half of his better half. Heh. Yeah-

"Sorry, don't get up. But yeah. She got engaged."

Castle rolls onto his side, draws his hand to her knee as he stares at the back of the ipad, then up to Kate's face. "Ok. Congrats Mad." Why did she wake him for this? She's not usually one of those kinds of girls.

"To J. Castle, she got engaged to Russell Martin. The Yankees catcher? Remember?"

A spark of memory flares to life and he sits up, grabbing the ipad to look at that photo again. Yeah, the rock is huge. "I set them up!"

Kate laughs at him, takes the ipad back. "You did. Matchmaker."

"You don't want to hear me sing," he starts, grinning at her, awake.

"Good for them," she murmurs, composing a reply to Madison on her screen. "Good for J. Took him long enough."

"She calls him J? I mean, I introduced him like that as a joke, kind of. But she-"

Kate lifts her face from the ipad and smiles at him, that full on dazzling smile with teeth and her lips spread wide, and sometimes she kisses him like that, with that smile and all of it rushes back in to his chest - so good. "Yeah, she calls him J too. Just like all the guys in the clubhouse now, apparently."

Rick grins, pleased with himself. He didn't start the nickname by any means, but he feels proud to have played a part in spreading it around. And now Madison is going to marry him. Finally. Honestly, he didn't know they were still together. He hasn't seen much of Madison, hasn't heard Kate talk about her.

"We should get together with them. Celebrate."

"That's just what I was saying. In my message back." Kate's hand strays from his back, along his arm, to the ipad as she keeps typing.

Castle lays back down on the bed, his head next to Kate's hip, rubs his hand along her shin. Little hairs catch his palm and he grins, twisting his neck to hide his smile in the soft warmth of her thigh. He feels her muscle twitch the moment before she shifts, leaning to the dresser to put the ipad down, then back to him, her hand on his head.

"Stop rubbing your hand over my leg," she grumbles. "I need to shave."

"It's fascinating."

"Stop," she mutters, kicking her foot a little. But he likes it, the sensation of rough where it's usually so smooth. "Castle."

He stops, sighing, and she slides down a little in bed; he lifts his head to look at her and she holds an arm out, waiting on him. He grins and shifts until he's laying over her, his head on her ribs, just below her heart, his arm wrapped around her, his body sprawled down her torso and legs. She squirms a little, then pulls a knee up along his side, squeezes, so that he feels tangled in her, wrapped up, every limb and inch of skin touching.

"I love you," he sighs, closing his eyes.

She chuckles at him, the hand at the top of his head running through his hair down to his neck, over and over, lulling.

"You just love to cuddle," she says back, but her voice is drowsy, content, and he knows that Kate, at this moment, loves it too.

"I love to cuddle with you-"

A thump at the door makes them both startle; Castle groans and slides away from her, stumbles off the edge of the bed even as Kate laughs at his clumsiness.

"Throw me some shorts first, will ya?"

He opens the top dresser drawer, grabs the first pair he finds, tosses it back over his shoulder at her. He did promise to be on kid-nightmare-duty. But it's too warm for a tshirt. Still, he goes to the balcony and shuts the sliding glass door first, then heads to the bedroom door to see how Dash is.

When Castle opens the door, it's Ellery.

"Oh, baby girl-" He crouches down and scoops her up, cradling her close to his chest. Her eyes are round and wide, but no tears. "Hey there, why are you out of bed? You're never out of bed."

He feels Kate at his back, lets her take Ellery out of his arms, lets her cuddle the girl. "Hey Ella," she breathes, her mouth at the girl's ear. "Moja mala sakupljačica stvari."

Castle blinks, stunned by the language he doesn't know but can feel, deep in his guts, every word. He knows what she said, even if he doesn't know what she said. The sound and texture and tone of her voice say it all, and suddenly, he's been given those words as well, like a gift.

"What did you just say? - No, never mind. I know what you said." Castle leaves their door open, nudges Kate towards the bed.

Kate gives him a look, inquiry and dismissal in one, and puts a knee onto the bed to climb in. He follows, and they sit up against the headboard, Kate's back against his shoulder as she murmurs more Croatian to their daughter. Her soft sounds, the words he doesn't know, the string of phrases that wind together into a lullaby, a bedtime story, the alto of her voice a song. He wants to never move, never break the spell.

Ella's eyes eventually close, her body loses its tension and goes slack. Castle waits another few minutes to be sure, and then he eases all three of them down into bed, the girl curled between them, Kate's head pillowed on his arm.

"You whisper to them in Croatian," he says softly, a hand at Ella's back, watching Kate feather kisses over their daughter's face.

"Mm," she murmurs, agreement or askance.

"I didn't know. You always. . .but it's not even English."

Kate lifts her eyes to his, her face caught in the glow of maternal compassion, some of that reaching out across the short space to him as well, making his chest tight with love. Mother's love. She's such an amazing mom, so beautiful how she loves.

"Sometimes it's Ukranian, or Russian, or Italian, or French. Just something different, to capture their attention." She untangles her arm from the little girl, snakes it out to him, catches his forearm. "Why?"

"It's just. . .magic. And even though now I know, now I've heard it, and I've been wondering for a long time - but I still don't know."

"I can tell you what I just said, in English, if you-"

He growls a no, somewhere in his chest; it gets stuck. "Let it be a mystery. Besides, just the way you say it." He leans in closer, kisses her forehead, slides his arm around both of them for a moment. "The way you say it, I know. They know. We know what it means. How you love us."

He feels her breath hitch, and then her mouth is at his ear as well. "I do it to you. When you're asleep. I tell you I love you-"

He shivers, feels her breath at his ear, her lips warm.

"J'espère que chaque mot te montre à quel point je t'aime."