It's three days after Thanksgiving when she decides to broach the topic, the last of leftovers finished, a humdrum day at work that had her mostly filling in paperwork while he stayed at home and wrote. She's a little antsy, but also a little excited, keyed up all day without any crime to take her mind of things.
She's been chewing over this ever since they'd done their little stint of playing parents, of course. That's what she does, turn things over in her head, examine them from every angle, wait till all the pieces fit comfortably together in her head. And it does all fit now. Castle is going to be an amazing father- already is, of course- but an amazing father to their children. It's thought that sends a warmth coursing through her veins, an exciting shiver down her neck. It's a thought she's allowed herself to entertain in fits and starts over the years. First as a fantasy, because it might have been Castle-as-a-father she first allowed herself to like, then more and more as a realistic dream as they slowly danced closed together, their lives intertwining till she woke up one day head over heels in love with him, and not even knowing when that had happened.
Now they're here. He's good-naturedly cleaning up after dinner, because she'd cooked, explaining some particularly amusing anecdote he'd read on the internet in between his chunks of writing. Her eyes skim over the warm curve of his lips, the broad taper of his shoulders, the crinkling blue eyes she loses herself in every morning. He catches her looking and smiles, and she doesn't mind. Doesn't mind she's been caught staring him with unabashed love and admiration because he should know that's how she feels about him, that's how she feels about him every day, and every day she wants to tell him either with her words or her gestures or her looks.
This is the man she will marry, and have a family with, and she luxuriates in the happiness that engulfs her with that statement, wrapping it around herself like a warm, comfortable blanket. The image is perfect.
Well, almost perfect.
There is that one thing she's been planning to bring up.
"Castle…"
He glances up at her, eyebrows arching at the questioning tone in her voice.
"Just how attached are you to the name Cosmo? Because I think it's pretty silly."
"No, come on Beckett, it's a great name. Cosmo Kramer…"
"Was the most annoying character on Seinfeld."
"Also a great cartoon character?"
"Is that really your best argument for Cosmo?"
"It's out there, it's unique."
"Which is a criterion for selecting the names of our children because?"
She gives him her best piercing look, trying to figure out how serious he is about the name, as she walks over to stand next to him as finished loading the dishwasher.
He's the picture of angelic innocence, like butter wouldn't-melt-in-his-mouth. In which case the odds are he's yanking her chain, just like with that whole dressing-up-for-Thanksgiving episode. Well, two can certainly play at that game.
"Come Beckett, think of the possibilities…"
"Of our son getting ridiculed in high school? Castle, it's not happening. I'm not naming our son, if we have one, after a cocktail or an awful magazine."
He pouts adorably, and she can't help but stand up on her toes, brushing her lips across his and then coming back for a second kiss, firmer this time.
"Alright, I'll drop the name from consideration, though I reserve the right to bring it up later."
"I'm not gonna change my mind about it Castle."
"We'll see. I'm pretty good at changing your mind about things." He winks, and grins that insufferable grin that makes her want to rip his clothes off and tweak his nose simultaneously. "Prime example, me."
She rolls her eyes, but can't quite stop herself from smiling at him. He's right, for one.
"How did you end up picking Alexis's name anyway? Or was that Meredith's suggestion?"
There's a NatGeo documentary on the TV, and she's reclined back against Castle's chest, her feet tucked in underneath her, a glass of red wine in her hand. In many ways, it is her perfect evening.
On screen, a meerkat family figures out how to hide from predators.
"No, no it was mine." His eyes flicker to the photo of Alexis in her school uniform standing on one of the shelves. "It was kind of a nod to mother really."
"Because you changed your name?"
"Yeah, I never really went by the name she gave me, and although I never regretted it, sometimes I felt guilty, like she might think I was rejecting her gift to me or something. So Alexis was a nod to Alexander."
"Not Alexandra?"
"Well that was Meredith. Seems kind of silly, now that I verbalise it."
She smiles softly across at him, for opening up to her yet again, letting her see a side of him that he would never reveal to anyone else.
"I think it's sweet." She laughs when he blushes, and runs a palm over his reddened cheek.
"Aww, tha- ooh, a lion."
There's the inner nine-year-old again. Although that lion does look interesting…
"OK, so Cosmo's out. What you have mind, oh mother of my future children?"
He's already in bed when she walks out, eyes gazing out at her from under thick lashes, desire and curiosity warring across his features. For the moment she decides to satisfy the latter.
"Well, I always thought we could use your or mine's mom's name as a middle name, for a girl, or Alexander or my dad's for a boy."
The sheets are cool across her arms and legs as she slides in, and she goes searching for his body heat in response, curling herself into the crook of his arm. One shoulder of the over-large t-shirt she's wearing is already sliding off, and his eyes flicker hungrily across her bare collarbone. Good.
"I like that. I like using our parents' names as middle names."
He runs a hand down her arm, stroking softly, before entwining his fingers through hers. She squeezes it softly.
"I bet you have all kinds of literary suggestions, don't you? I'm ruling out anything Shakespearean. Hamlet or Othello are just as bad as Cosmo."
"As if I'd curse my kid with a tragic-hero name. But of course I have some literary suggestion, how could I not?" He grins impishly, and then starts reeling off suggestions. "Philip Marlowe, James Bond, Danaerys Targaryen, Nyota Uhu-"
"Stop. I'm going to stop you right there, and suggest we move away from names that will have people look at us funny when we tell them our kid's names."
"But people already look at us funny."
"No they look at you funny. They look at me with pity."
He nods solemnly.
"That's true, you do have a great burden to bear, Kate..."
"Oh this should be good." She mutters under her breath, and he continues as if she hasn't spoken.
"…having fallen in love with an intelligent, ruggedly handsome, bestselling author whose charm and wit are the envy of many."
She peers carefully around the room, shading her hazel eyes with one hand.
"Where is this guy, I don't see him anywhere? I'm stuck with you."
In response, he drops his mouth to her bare shoulder, teeth nipping gently in punishment and foreplay. She shivers slightly, but decides to let anticipation build for the moment.
"OK, so no crazy literary or fictional names. Are you a traditionalist? Are we digging into the Bible? John, Paul, James, Peter, Mary and so forth?"
"I like traditional, but it doesn't have to be that traditional." She purses her lips for a moment, but he jumps in again.
"What if we went all celebrity-esque? I qualify as a quasi-celebrity."
"No, that was the paparazzi thinking you were Jason Bateman again."
"Well…true. But anyway, look at the Beckhams. All geographical. Maybe we could…"
"We're not going traveling around the world just so you can knock me up in places with the coolest-sound names."
Her arch words contrast with the fact she's now running her own hands over his body, slim fingers sliding under his shirt, sketching out figures on his torso as he rumbles and warms up under her.
"But Paris would've satisfied both the literary and geographic criteria…"
His palm is on her hip now, and then dips down over her shorts to her smooth thighs, gathering her against him as she silences his protest with a kiss, his mouth tasting of minty toothpaste.
"OK, then what names do you like, Detective Finicky?"
"Charlotte, I've always like the name Charlotte. Or Fiona, I love Fiona. Scott. Nicholas. Thomas."
"So I'm all out of luck if I push for Hope, or Charity?"
"Our daughter is not a character in Gone With The Wind either, dear." She gasps silently as his mouth slides across to her neck, sucking lightly just on her weak spot.
Enough.
"How about we shelve the name discussion for the moment, and just focus on the practising?" She rolled over him in one smooth twist of her hips, enjoying the sight of his eyes glazing over with lust, the feel of him between her thighs.
"Oh, I love practising with you, and practice makes perfect…"
A 'The Good, The Bad And The Baby' post-ep written to celebrate Castle's return from winter hiatus tonight! Please leave a review with your thoughts.