WAKING UP
She was warm, and her eyelids were far too heavy to open just yet. She was warm and her bed smelled different. Not bad different. Kind of familiar, actually, and comforting, like cinnamon and bar soap and old books. Was she still in her clothes from the day before? She wiggled her toes. Yep, still wearing her boots. It wasn't too uncommon for her to just collapse into bed after a long day, still in her work clothes. But she never slept in her shoes. So she was warm and still clothed and her bed didn't smell like it should. And her left arm was numb. She shifted it a little and felt the sting of a thousand tiny needles as the blood flow returned. But why was it numb in the first place? She hadn't slept on it. As the feeling came back, she realized there was a weight resting on it. That must have been the reason her arm was numb. It lacked the shape and sharp angles of one of the Russian tomes that often put her to sleep. No, it was rounded, and softer. And felt suspiciously like someone's head. Suddenly it all clicked: the warmth, the smell, the weight of the head on her arm, and the shirt buttons she now realized she'd been unconsciously twisting with the fingers of her right hand. Castle. It smelled like Castle. She hoped beyond hope that it really was her partner. As awkward as it would inevitably be to deal with whatever had obviously happened between the two of them, the alternative was far worse. At least with Castle, she knew she would be okay. If she'd fallen into bed with some stranger… she shivered at the thought. Safety hazards aside, the wounded face of her partner floated through her mind's eye, and her heart clenched. She didn't want to do that to him. Enough. Enough worrying and uncertainty. Slowly, carefully, she opened her eyes— and breathed a sigh of relief. Castle. Castle's tousled brown head rested on her arm, his face relaxed and boyish in sleep. One crisis averted, she glanced around the room, expecting to see the undoubtedly lavish accommodations that she was sure he lived in. Dark walls and a dank, dirty floor were not what she anticipated. Panic rose up in her throat, and she tried to lift up to see their surroundings better. And then she caught the gleam of metal. No. Oh, no. That was why he was pillowed on her arm. Their left hands lay next to each other on a grimy mattress, her arm stretched underneath his head, his posed as if waving. Cuffed. And though the thought of being bound to him did not terrify her as it once had, this was not exactly the scenario she would choose. Really, she would have preferred rings and vows, not locks and chains. She pushed her right hand against his chest. His surprisingly firm chest, she noted. "Castle." "Don't get up yet," he mumbled, his voice low and raspy and altogether too sexy. "Stay in bed." She shut her eyes against the sudden rush of longing. Someday. "Castle, wake up." She pressed on his chest again, and his blue eyes drifted open, still clouded with sleep. His head turned to regard her, and a slow smile spread across his face. "Mmm…love this dream." She felt the heat rise in her cheeks. Yes, they needed to get out of here. But maybe this wouldn't be so bad after all.