Disclaimer: I don't own Castle.
Spoilers: None, really. I haven't watched S6, so there'd be nothing for me to spoil.
Setting: Married Caskett. (Too soon?) Kate gets a craving that prompts her to be too impulsive.
This fic is fluff bordering on crack, really. I'm not much of a Humour writer, but I still advise you not to take this fic too seriously. Enjoy!
She lowered her head, peering out of the corner of her eyes at her surroundings.
There was a solitary blonde-haired woman standing in the Instant Food aisle, perusing the colourful boxes of instant soup; otherwise, the area immediately around her was devoid of human presence.
Casually, she took a step past the tall shelving. Instant Soup Woman was out of sight now. That meant she was out of sight of Instant Soup Woman, too, right?
Eagerly, she eyed the packet in her hand. Mmm. Onion-flavoured. This would be good.
She hesitated for a moment—she did have a conscience, after all, and this technically was stealing; except, she was going to pay the grocery store back later—before deciding that her urges overruled the questionable morality of her actions. Just as she was about to tear open the package and delve into the onion-y deliciousness that was inside—
"Detective Beckett," the man announced, and she nearly jumped out of her skin, "just what do you think you're doing?"
"Castle," she hissed, closing her eyes, "go away."
"I cannot," he answered smugly. "You are about to commit a crime."
"Ohmygod." Kate rolled her eyes. "Y'know, if you went away now, you couldn't be called a witness. I'd hate to arrest myself and you."
"Well, I'd hate to bail my wife out of prison, so I figured we could be partners in crime—if you must do what it looks like you're about to do."
Scowling, she whipped around and shoved the bag of chips into his chest. "Fine, have it your way," she grunted. "This is your fault, y'know."
He chuckled, entirely undisturbed, and pressed a kiss to her lips. "And how are you, Mrs Castle?"
"Horny," she exclaimed without preamble, earning a strange look from Instant Soup Woman as the blonde passed by them with a cartful of boxes. "And hungry, which is totally your fault. How did you find me, anyway?"
"I used my common sense." He crooked a grin at her. "You always cook for me after I return from a long book tour."
"You've only been on a long book tour once before."
"And you're a creature of habit. Plus, you love me. You like to spoil me."
"Not right now."
Rick threw his head back, letting out a little yip of laughter. "You're only saying that 'cause our son has you craving onions again."
"Onions, seriously," she growled before dipping her head. Shamefully, she admitted, "I was only here to get ingredients for tonight, I swear—but then I passed by the junk-food aisle and … they started calling to me…"
"A siren song, was it?" Rick asked whimsically. "Were you going to offer the cashier an empty packet when you paid?"
"I was only going to have one chip! Or two—but the packet would've been mostly full when I paid for it!"
"It would not," Rick declared. "Don't you remember the last time you had that craving? You had four omelettes that looked like they had more onion in them than egg—and that was only because I convinced you that simply peeling the onions and eating them raw wasn't a good idea. You pouted for a week because I made you cook them."
"Woulda survived the rawness," she muttered darkly. "And anyway, are you suggesting I have impulse-control issues?"
"No, merely that you love our son very much and would do anything to keep him happy," Rick answered smoothly. She snorted. He was lucky it was a good save.
He looped an arm around her shoulders and continued, advising her, "Leave the cart. We'll go to Remy's for dinner."
"But—" she eyed the shopping cart before her, feeling inexplicably conflicted. Rick had just come back from a two-week-long book tour. He deserved a proper welcome home. She wanted to do that for him—wanted to make it a tradition they could carry out from that point onwards—because it seemed right, now that they were married, but the baby she was currently pregnant with made her back ache and her feet swell constantly. Cooking did seem like an insurmountable task.
"Whoa, hey, it's okay," Rick said in sudden alarm, cupping her face and brushing warm thumbs across her cheeks. She blinked away the tears that had overwhelmed her without warning. Ugh. She hated when that happened. "Kate, I know you love cooking for me, but—Remy's has onion rings, so you don't have to worry about stealing chips or making something extra for yourself or putting up with my teasing about how you put too much onion into everything. That's why I suggested it. It's not about your cooking; I love your cooking. It's simply about the availability of onion rings—"
She burst into laughter, thumping him on his arm for making fun of her but then tipping into his embrace. He was so comforting. His musky scent alone would make her feel better. "I missed you," she confessed.
He gave her a tight squeeze. "I missed you, too."
"Even when the last image you had before you left home was of me stuffing my face with banana-and-avocado sundaes?"
He laughed. "Even then," he told her. "I spent every free moment of the past two weeks running whichever stages of pregnancy you've been through so far through my head, and then imagining your belly getting bigger with my—our—son, and all I wanted was to come home so I could watch you stuff your face and give further life to the little peanut growing inside you."
"Oh god," she murmured, "don't make me emotional again."
He hummed cheerfully and changed the topic. "So, Remy's?"
"It's not dinnertime yet."
"Yeah," he replied casually, "I just figured we could get a head-start on the onion rings. You're eyeing the chip packet with a ferocity that scares me."
She disentangled herself from him with a huff. "Just for that, you get to put all the stuff from the cart back onto the shelves," she told him, finishing over her shoulder as she sauntered away, "while I get a head-start on the onion rings. Meet me at Remy's when you're done."
He grinned after her like a lovesick puppy.