Mornings

Its ten past nine and the cold, March-morning is a steely glare through the bedroom windows, the horizontal stripes of the curtains patterning the floor and muting the chilly tones of light on either side of the bed.

Richard Castle lies on his side looking at the figure beside him. She's still asleep, curled up against him, one hand fisted in the duvet below her chin, the other laying on the pillow under her cheek. Her hair is partially plastered over her face and he daren't push it away yet, wanting to enjoy the view a bit more before disturbing her.

Her breathing is deep, slow, a gentle flutter of the curls near her mouth betraying each exhalation of breath. He can just make out the soft shadows of her lashes against her cheeks, the smooth stretch of her forehead, but eventually he needs to see her in all her beauty, without the spider's web of pale curls presently curtaining her face.

He reaches out a finger and gently runs it down her face, gathering her hair and tucking it behind her ear. Her response is a soft moan and a delightfully childish scrunching up of her face. He holds his breath and then slowly releases it as she settles back into slumber.

He loses track of time as he just lays there in wonder, drinking in the sight of her, his mind running through all the scenarios that have led to this moment, to these quiet mornings that they can and do share, to the miracle that is Kate Beckett in his bed, or he in hers.

Her breathing changes slightly, becomes shallower, faster and he can see the movement of her eyes behind her lids as she begins to climb her way out of sleep. Her hand stops fisting the duvet and he smiles and moves his head slightly closer to hers, his eyes focused on her eyelids.

The tip of her tongue slips out of her mouth and runs along her top lip before disappearing again, she lets out a gentle sigh and still with her eyes closed mumbles a tired "Creepy, Castle" but the upturn of her lips belies her words.

He gives an amused chuckle and leans in to brush his lips against hers. She gives a protesting moan and buries her face in the pillow, though she does slide her hand up and over his shoulder, tugging him closer.

He waits her out, slowly running his hand up and down her back, his fingers running circles against her skin. Eventually she turns her head and looks at him from bleary eyes, a smile curving her lips "What's the time?"

He shrugs, not bothering to look at the clock on the nightstand "About half nine"

"Hmmm" She moves closer to him, sliding her foot between his calves and tucking her head under his chin. She kisses his neck and he feels a shiver run through his body which has her giving a throaty gurgle of laughter. "Coffee?" she mumbles against his chest.

He grunts and pulls back a bit from her, "You … you are wicked Detective Beckett!"

"Get me a coffee and maybe you'll get lucky" she says, her eyes still closed.

With a sigh Castle rolls away and climbs out of bed heading for the kitchen. At the door he turns to look back. His muse has flopped onto her stomach lying on the area he's just vacated. Her arms are flung out across the sheets, face buried in his pillow, the top sheet and the duvet coming only half-way up her back, showing an expanse of gorgeous skin before meeting the cascade of light chestnut hair.

"Coffee, Castle!" the somewhat smothered growl emitted from somewhere within the pillow has him heading out to the kitchen with a big grin spreading across his face … he loves Grizzly Bear Beckett …..