Disclaimer: Castle belongs to a genius greater than mine. No profit is being made from this and no copyright infringement is intended.

For liviafan1. The first installment of, I'm sure, the many pieces of fluff I'll be forced to rely on in my attempt to stave off her great big angst monster of a story.

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Counting In Threes

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The morning light streams through the large windows, infusing the room with soft orange flecks and golden streaks of yellow. It's early enough in the season that the warm sun is still just a gentle lick against his back; that the salty breeze is more than enough to soothe its bite.

The air is quiet without the sounds of the city humming in the background, peaceful in a way that New York isn't, just the gentle lap of water to carry on the wind.

The mattress dips as Kate shifts to curl closer into his front, her face burrowing into his chest to escape the wisps of morning that filter through the fog of her dreams.

Rick runs his hand down her back, lets his fingers trace the curve of her spine through the over-sized t-shirt, tangles their bare legs as she huffs a sigh against his neck.

She mumbles a protest as he nuzzles her temple. "Time to wake up," he says against the curve of her brow.

She frowns, a wrinkle against his lips, and it makes him grin.

"Come on, Beckett," he sing-songs into her hair, dropping a kiss on his way to whisper in her ear. "You're going to miss it."

He feels it as she wakes a little more, awareness seeping into her limbs, tensing the muscles beneath his palm before she relaxes once more. She nuzzles into the hollow at the base of his throat, even as she threatens, "I swear, I'm going to kill you, Castle."

There's no bite in her words, no heat to her threat, and it makes something warm bubble up in his chest. She's not mad at him. Maybe even a little secretly pleased.

"But it's Thursday, Beckett."

"That's what usually comes after Wednesday, Castle."

"Yes," he concedes, "but this one is special."

"Our third."

"Exactly."

"And quite possibly our last," she says. "If you're going to wake me up early for every one. We're supposed to be on vacation."

"Not a vacation, Kate."

"No?"

"No."

Her lips find the side of his neck, her nose brushes the line of his jaw. "What would you call this, then?"

"A honeymoon."

She's smiling against him then, a secret, happy little smile. "You should know better by now."

Rick lets his eyes close as her nose brushes his, her cheek sliding against his own. "I should?" he asks as her lips find the lobe of his ear.

"Yes." She bites him gently. "You should let your wife sleep."

And he likes that, the way your wiferolls off her tongue and onto his skin. "Tomorrow," he promises, an echo of the promise he'd made yesterday. One he knows he'll break, knows he'll make again the next day in spite of it. "You don't want to miss today, do you?"

"What's so special about today?"

"It's our third," he says.

"And?"

"And third time's the charm."