Little Things

Happy Castle gift exchange! I really hope you like it, Erica. I might have stalked your Tumblr a bit (don't mind the anon bein' a creep), so I really hope you like it.

UPDATE: Finally moved this to my real FF account. Please enjoy!


She doesn't notice that she does them. Well, he doesn't think that she's aware, but Castle has adapted himself to be hyper vigilant of all of her quirks, and he's still pretty sure she doesn't know.

It started with kisses; they started his obsession. Usually in the mornings, after they'd both woken up a bit, he'd kiss her just to remind himself that this was real, that this was his life now. It would just be simple, a 'good morning, love' moment between them when time would pause for two people enamored with each other. She'd smile into his lips and hum after, that was her little change: a dazzling display of teeth that lit up her eyes (caught his breath every time) and a little musical trill that vibrated through her body in ecstasy. He had thought the first one was a fluke. A rare moment unearthed during the deconstruction of her proverbial walls, but he tested his theory. Each morning, for two weeks he got to taste her for the most precious of moments, and every time she would smile and hum. He remembered his joy at his discovery, that he alone, Richard Castle, could crumble the walls of Detective Kate Beckett.

It then dawned on him on a late Tuesday evening at the precinct that Beckett had become quite content with physical interactions in the workplace. Nothing too vulgar, no! Gates made that perfectly clear. But the small touches between the passing of warmed ceramic coffee cups and sweet finger caresses while paper pushing made him beam. They sat closer together while studying the murder board, too. Shoulder to shoulder, outer thighs touching, her cherry scent numbing his brain as she totted on about who killed whom with what. She was infatuating, and the more she let him touch her in her place of work the more he realized how much he honestly meant to her. Gates would never kick him out (she was definitely a fan), but the ever looming threat of discovery was still there and still he was allowed access to her skin.

She smiled more too, he noticed. He had been paying particularly close attention to her on a lazy Sunday afternoon and her face just seemed more vibrant than usual. They weren't doing anything in particular; she was reading a massive tome of Olde Tyme romantic poetry while he flit his fingers along his laptop keys trying to figure out the proper synonym he wanted to use instead of the word 'engorged'. The smile she had on seemed to be permanent as she slowly made her way through her book and he caught himself watching her over the rim of his laptop more than his computer screen.

"What'cha reading?" he had finally asked, seeming to break her from her spellbound captivity of the page.

"You wouldn't get it," she answered as her eyes returned to her page. He had huffed at her reply and pushed himself off the seat to make his way over to the space next to her.

"I'm a writer, Kate," he had responded adamantly with an air of narcissism, "pray tell, why would I not get your book?" He had plopped himself unceremoniously next to her causing a thin smile to pull at her lips as she bounced on the couch at his graceless fall.

"You won't like it because you can't read it, Castle." He tilted his head like a confused puppy and finally let his eyes move away from her captivating face. The pages of the book had been completely written in another language. It caught him off guard at the time, but in hindsight he should have known that Kate could read as well as speak multiple languages.

"It's one of my college books that I kept when I came back from Stanford. I was taking a foreign romantic poetry class. It's written in everything from Dutch to Japanese with translations written in the margins." He had scooted closer, his arm wrapped around her shoulder and her body now leaning into his broad chest. Her fingers were playing down the words on the page and then he realized why she was smiling: her poetry made sense.

Castle might have been taking some creative liberties, but what are songs but poems put to a beat? He grinned into her hair and tried to calm the stutter of his heart.

"Can you read me some?" He whispered into the shell of her ear. He saw her lips pull back into a grin again as she nodded.

She cleared her throat and sat up a bit straighter, "Amor é fogo que arde sem se ver; É ferida que dói e não se sente; É um contentamento descontente; É dor que desatina sem doer;" the words slipped from her lips like warmed silk over creamy skin. Her cadence and emotion invigorated his soul, and even though the words were lost to him the meaning burned with a passion through his blood.

She had kept reading, finishing the poem, but he had contented his mind to just holding her and listening to the pitch and sway of her voice. He had caused her smiles, he had caused her hums in their morning routines, and he had opened her to the reality of true love. He placed a kiss on the back of her shoulder as she finished the poem, overwhelmed by the changes he had caused in the perfect human being that was his partner. She was humming again, he could feel it through his chest, and he wrapped his arms around her to bring her closer to his body.

"Thank you, Kate." He whispered again, placing a kiss to her ear. She brought her hand up in response and cradled the side of his face, turning to meet his blue eyes with her hazel.

"Sempre," she responded as her lips met his.

A/N: I really hope you liked it, Erica! And I'm sorry if the Portuguese is really off. I can only speak English and the internet is only so reliable with translations. The poem was written by Luís Vaz de Camões, one of the greater Portuguese poets (or so Wikipedia tells me) I hope you enjoyed it.

Feliz castelo troca de presentes!

Love and hugs.

Again, this is a re-upload so if you've read this before I'm sorry! Although you did find my secret anon gift exchange account, so kudos to you!