No Time Like The Present

A/N: Because now apparently it's a thing for me to write a one-shot on either end of Daylight Savings Time. See "Time Saved" and "Time Well-Spent" for my last two efforts in the same vein. This is labeled M for a reason, folks.

Her eyes fluttered open to the graying light of dawn seeping in through the blinds. No real sun. The clock read 7:05. She'd slept in. As she shifted in bed, her gaze fell on the rumpled, sleeping man beside her. His hair was askew, face half-buried in the pillow, features slack with sleep.

Her list for the day began to tick through her mind. It was Sunday, no precinct, not even on call, so her items were what had begun to be her day-off routine. Run, start coffee, turn on the steam shower - if she had a day off at the loft, there was always steam involved, wake the lazy lump if the sound of said steam hadn't already lured him in to join her, make breakfast, read the paper, fight their way through the crossword, pay bills, call her dad… And at least for the past few weeks, the list hadn't included hiding in the office to avoid Pi. But that was a sore subject for another time...

Reaching back for her phone, she thumbed the screen to life and was about to check the weather for her running wardrobe when she saw the time. 6:08. Ah, right. Daylight Savings. Setting her phone back on the bedside table, she contemplated the soft mattress, the welcoming cloud of her pillow at her cheek, and a complete lack of motivation to abandon any of the above.

Digging Castle's hand out from under his pillow, she scooted in, turned over, tucked his arm around her and settled in. An hour of lazing in bed wouldn't kill her.

The warm, solid form behind her instinctively shifted, wrapped his arm more snugly around her waist tugging her back against his chest, and nudged a knee up between her own, essentially curling his whole body around her until she was utterly surrounded. Funny how this all-encompassing Castle hold, which at the start had sometimes seemed overwhelming, now no longer seemed claustrophobic.

His nose burrowed just behind her ear, and as his breathing evened out again, the warm puffs of air against her skin lulled her gently into the depths as well.

* # * # * # * # *

Blinking sluggishly, his unfocused line of sight revealed the red glare of 9:02. She had slept in. And by all signs, the soft, sweet-smelling woman in his arms wasn't likely to wake any time soon.

Weak rays of sun streamed in around the blinds, catching a strand of chestnut hair curling haphazardly over her forehead, and he nuzzled into the curve of her neck, inhaling the intoxicating combination of citrus, spice, and skin that he could only ever associate with Kate.

Sunday. Day off. She should have been out for her run and back by now, tempting him out of bed with the promise of steamy shower sex followed by coffee and breakfast… And though that scenario was one of his very favorite ways to enjoy a weekend, he wasn't complaining. Being a slug and staying in bed all morning had its benefits, too.

He didn't want to wake her, but he couldn't help tucking his arm a little more comfortably at the curve of her waist, burying his nose a bit deeper into the nest of curls.

She had taken to cuddling in a way he never would have expected. For the four years he had known Kate Beckett, before they started sharing a bed, she had always seemed like the type to want her own space, a line down the middle of the mattress once the main event was over, a cushion and a blanket all to herself on the couch complete with her own bowl of popcorn.

But the Kate who had appeared drenched on his doorstep that night so long ago had surprised him, craved his touch in the most casual of ways - cold toes digging under his thigh on the couch while they did the crossword, fingers piecing through his hair to rouse him in the morning for a goodbye kiss, waking to his arm being tugged around her after she had come in late from a case.

As if to prove his point, Kate took a deeper breath and nestled back into his chest. She was so adorable when she snuggled in her sleep, although he was certain she would kill him if he ever mentioned it to her. When she let out a mewling little sigh and sort of wiggled her butt back into his hips, he had to bite the inside of his cheek to keep the laugh from bubbling out.

Though they had fallen into a bit of a routine since she had moved back from DC, it was odd that their morning hadn't been interrupted yet. Then again, there were no longer any teenagers to barge in half-clothed.

A pang of regret shot through his sleepy haze. Alexis was his baby, his only child, his original alarm clock on a Sunday morning, scampering in at dawn, clutching her stuffed monkey, demanding pancakes or curling up on his chest with the fuzzy animal squished in between them to finish her morning sleep. And now she was living with a boy. A boy who counted bees. Ugh. But there was nothing to be done about Alexis and her state of semi-adulthood at 9AM on a Sunday.

Nine… He thought for sure his mother had said she had to be up early for rehearsal with her students today. Maybe he had the day wrong, or the time…

As she had marched up the stairs to bed the night before, carrying a large glass of water and the sleep mask she kept in the freezer, she had bemoaned the early call. Her words flashed through his mind and revealed the answer.

"Goodnight, Darlings! Thank God we have an extra hour tonight! Otherwise Shakespeare would be directing himself, and with my kiddos, let me tell you that would be a recipe for disaster."

Daylight Savings. So it was only 8:07, after all. Plenty of time for a little snooze, he rationalized. But as sleep dragged him under yet again, he could have sworn he heard the scurry of little feet headed for his bedroom door.

* # * # * # * # *

This time when her eyes shot open, they immediately sought the clock. The room was brighter. 10:05, meaning it was already after nine. She felt the dull nag of too much sleep fuzzing the edges of her consciousness. Rick was still wrapped around her, hand splayed wide across her stomach, legs tucked up against hers, face pressed to the back of her neck.

Daylight Savings or no, she ought to get up and eat something.

On cue, she felt the sharp jolt of a foot against her belly. So much for sleeping in. Two more insistent whacks right under Rick's hand - probably an elbow - startled him into consciousness. Rubbing at the spot of the latest round of jabs, he rumbled against her ear, speech still slurred with sleep.

"You're getting kicked. Active this morning."

"He's yelling at me to eat breakfast."

"Like father, like son."

Rolling her eyes for no one's benefit but her own, she huffed out a half-chuckle and tried to stretch the kinks out of her back. Sleeping on her side all the time was starting to grate on her nerves. Strong fingers sought out the muscles on either side of her lumbar spine and started to knead as her husband's voice continued in her ear.

"At least we have a few months before… Anthony…?"

"Reminds me of Cleopatra, which makes me think of asps. No names that evoke images of venomous reptiles. Cameron?"

"As in 'Kirk and Candace'? Not sure I want Growing Pains and Full House running on repeat in my head, either. George? Never mind. No British royalty… Anyway, as I was saying, we still have some time before he will actually be doing any yelling."

Rolling her shoulders, she stretched her neck and curved her back into the counter-pressure he was supplying. She had never been so grateful for his massive, strong hands as she had been since midway through her second trimester. Even when she ditched her heels for flats at work, between her shifting center of gravity and the hormones wreaking havoc on her ligaments and joints, she struggled to find comfortable positions for anything.

"Don't remind me. This may be our last Daylight Savings hour we get to use for anything other than child-wrangling."

"But wrangling is fun, once you get past the feeding-every-three-hours stage. And I promise we'll find plenty of minutes, if not necessarily hours, of alone time along the way."

They'd been having plenty of alone time over the past seven months, to put it mildly. The hormones had their fair share of downsides, but her seemingly constant desire for alone time was not one of them.

In fact, her back was nicely loosened up thanks to his massaging, and his ministrations had a pleasant warmth pooling low in her belly. They really didn't have anywhere to be this morning…

Kate rolled her hips purposefully back against his and turned carefully onto her back. Laying her palm flat against his chest, she pushed him into the mattress and climbed up to straddle his lap.

* # * # * # * # *

"I thought you said you needed breakfast? Is it child abuse if we starve our son in utero?"

His wife was all over him, hands smoothing over his chest, lips attaching to her favorite spot just above his collarbone, hips circling into his.

"Rick Castle, are you really complaining about the chance to have morning sex? Because, if so, who are you, and what have you done with my husband?"

Kate disappeared under the covers, and he felt nimble fingers sliding his boxers down and off. When the heat of her mouth enveloped him, he couldn't help the moan from deep in his chest or the jerk of his hips seeking more. He felt his arousal surge, and she hummed in approval, wrapping her hand at his base as he filled her mouth.

"Kate!"

He rasped the warning as he tried to reach for her under the sheets. If she didn't want this to be a very one-sided round, she had better get up here…

Releasing him with a "pop," she climbed up his body, appearing from under the blankets with her face and lips flushed a pretty shade of pink, hair disheveled, tank top riding up to show a glimpse of her baby bump. She was a glowing goddess in all her pregnant glory, looking more than ready to have her wicked way with her mere mortal of a spouse.

Apparently having dispatched her own underwear somewhere along the way, she rose over him on her knees, but he gripped her hips to still her.

"No way. If you're going to use my body for sex at this hour of the morning, I should at least have the benefit of the most excellent view."

Her eyes narrowed as she sat back on his thighs, considering his request.

Kate had always had beautiful breasts, but in the past six months they had more than doubled in size, and despite his best efforts to control his caveman-like tendencies, he found he couldn't get enough of seeing them, touching them, tasting them. But with her belly expanding, she had also started to feel self-conscious about naked, daytime sex, so her instinct was to leave her top on. Slowly, though, his ever-enthusiastic reaction to seeing her body, extra curves included, had begun to convince her she had nothing to worry about. They had made this baby together, and seeing the reality of that in the changes taking place in her body only made him want her more.

The arch of her eyebrow and the quirk of one corner of her mouth marked her acquiescence, and he didn't try to hide the wide grin tugging at his own lips as she answered, pouty lips dripping with deliberate, teasing sensuality.

"Fine."

Reaching for the hem of her tank, she pulled it slowly, torturously over her head, making sure to arch her back as she slipped out of the soft, black scrap of cotton. Blinking slowly down at him, she leaned forward and slid her hands under his t-shirt, making sure to scrape her fingernails over his nipples as she ruched up the material and tugged it over his head. When she finished, she hovered just above him, teasingly near.

"Better?"

The unmanly squeak that came out in his first attempt to answer only made her evil smirk widen, but he cleared his throat and succeeded the second time.

"Much."

The light sneaking past the blinds played across her skin, setting her swollen curves in stark relief against the still-present shadows. Having conquered the months of soreness, she now welcomed his hands on her, and so he reached out to cup the soft, yielding flesh, stroking his thumbs over the large, darkened pink circle of each nipple. When she shifted her hips and took him inside in one slow, deep slide, he groaned low in his chest and rolled the hardened peaks between his fingers. Her body was so tight around him, he stayed perfectly still, gave her time to adjust, but it wasn't long before she began to move.

"Do you have any idea how devastatingly sexy you are?"

Kate was working herself up so quickly that he could see the flush rising, spreading hot across her chest and shoulders as her body undulated in tight circles against him.

"Stop talking and start moving, Writer-man."

Clutching at the flare of her hips, he pulled her snug against him and started to thrust in counterpoint to the cadence of her gyration. She let out a whimper as the sudden onslaught of sensation sent her pitching forward, her weight landing on her hands. Bracing her palms on either side of his head, she rocked against him, matching his escalating pace and racing faster.

God she was beautiful, half out of control already, hair cascading down around them both to block out the rest of the world. And then there was only her face, the snap of green eclipsed by growing pupils, lips swollen and parted as she panted in time with the rhythm of their coupling.

Curling down over the swell of her belly, she found his lips for a kiss. The rough swipe of her tongue spurred him on, and he planted his feet on the bed to get more leverage.

Breaking away, she barely brushed her lips to his as they shared air, watching as the world blurred out around them. Her arms were shaking with the effort of holding herself up above him, but as her movements began to falter, he knew she was close enough that she wouldn't stop now, would chase the pleasure until it engulfed them both.

"Castle…"

That tone meant only one thing: "harder, now." And so he drove up into her with all his might as her body stiffened, fluttered, then finally clenched down tight around him. She let out a single, desperate 'yes' against his lips as her eyes slammed shut and the waves overtook her. Her spasms triggered his own climax, and he spilled with a final jerk of his hips deep inside her, the clutch of her inner muscles draining every last drop of his release.

Collapsing against his heaving chest, the swell of her belly tucked firmly against him, she planted messy, open-mouthed kisses in a line down the curve of his neck, finally sinking her teeth into his flesh just shy of the peak of his shoulder. Her whole body was trembling with the rush of endorphins. Smoothing his palms along her spine, he murmured his love into her ear, soothing her as she came down.

Though he wished she could stay just like this, limber and spent, her weight draped over him, holding him to the bed, he knew she wouldn't be comfortable for long, so he helped her shift over to align with his side, the curve of her stomach nudging at his hip.

Their kiddo always seemed to ignore this sudden flutter of hormones and exercise, and he was calm now, not kicking to keep his already half-asleep mom awake. But Castle laid his hand over the gravid bow of her tummy anyway, a wave of love and protectiveness washing over him. The next time they set their clocks, their son would be out in the world, his own little person, needing them both all the time. He sank into sleep with the image of a tiny baby nestled snugly in the crook of one arm, Kate curled under the other, sharing a quiet hour on a Sunday morning.

* # * # * # * # *

"Wake up, sleepy heads!"

His eyes popped open, muscles tensed to spring, and he would have been halfway out of bed but for the warm, solid weight of Kate entwined with his limbs on the bed. A very clothed, very not-pregnant Kate.

"Now, I made coffee, but I didn't have time to pour it for you, because I am almost late for 'A Midsummer Night's Dream,' and only ill befalls those who keep fairies waiting."

Kate looked up at him glassy-eyed, breathing heavy, a flush to her skin and a sheen to her brow, but she sat up with him as Martha approached to give them each a kiss on the forehead. The clock read 9:51.

"It's almost nine - you two are usually more bright-eyed and bushy-tailed by this time of the morning - well, you are, at least, Katherine. You should both get up and enjoy your extra hour instead of dreaming it away!"

Her voice trailed off as she exited the bedroom and crossed the loft toward the door, but her monologue carried just fine.

"Lord! What fools these mortals be!" She continued in her usual sing-song. "I'll be home for dinner, darlings!"

His eyes met Kate's, still wide and slightly tinged with panic. He saw her stroke her palm over the flat of her stomach, and his words tumbled out on top of each other.

"Did you just… I think I had… That must have been…"

Kate blinked hard, shaking her head as if to clear it, then shot out of bed.

"Coffee. I need coffee. Right. Now."

But as she half-sprinted for the kitchen, he noticed her hand still absently stroking over her belly button.

A line from his mother's play, one of his favorites as a kid sitting backstage, listening to the actors finesse meaning from the archaic phrasing, suddenly came to mind. A wistful smile tugged at his lips, and he mumbled the words almost absently as he watched Kate disappear through the bedroom door, feeling himself transported back to the near dark of a backstage corner, disbelief entirely suspended, at the mercy of fairy folk and the words of the Bard.

"I have had a dream, past the wit of man to say what dream it was."

* # * # * # * # *

A/N: Thanks for reading, everyone. Hope my little biannual time-change theme hasn't completely lost you…

Thank you for beta duties without judgment, Alex. Yes, I know it's not the chapter I was supposed to be writing… And thank you for putting up with my desire to confuse and befuddle. I wish you days off filled with flannel pajama pants and French toast, and also, Margaritas.