Cooking Up a Storm

Disclaimer: I don't own anything or anyone in regards to Castle; the show and its characters belong to a bunch of people who aren't me. I am merely borrowing the characters for my own amusement. Dance puppets, dance.

Author's Note: Just a little Thanksgiving fic for our beloved duo. And Happy Thanksgiving to all my lovely readers! I hope you have a wonderful holiday. Many thank you's and pumpkin pies to my beta, Smacky30

"That's too much salt."

"What're you talking about? That's the perfect amount of salt."

"Yeah, if you want to find out if people can die from sodium poisoning."

"This is no where near what my mother would put in. Kate, I've got this."

"Rick, I give you one thing to do, and you've managed to screw it up. Here, let me-"

"No!" Rick protested loudly, not caring that he sounded like an indignant nine year old. He shifted his body away as she tried to take the potato masher away. "The mashed potatoes are fine, trust me. I can handle this."

Kate merely frowned at him. "Well, they better taste good. If they're too salty no one is going to want to eat them, and then I'm going to blame you because what is Thanksgiving without mashed potatoes?"

"I think we've got some instant potatoes in the cupboard if worse comes to worse."

Cocking her head, she drew her eyebrows together and her lips tightened in an angry line. It was a look she usually reserved for the worst suspects such as child molesters, and the one time she shushed a person for talking in the movie theatre. Luckily, Richard Castle could stand up to her. His shoulders shrank as he went back to his mashing. "I mean, um, if we uh…desperately needed them," he mumbled. Mostly.

Thankfully, she just shook her head. "Instant potatoes," she muttered at him before turning to the oven. She opened the door, the delicious scent of mouth-watering, cooking turkey filling the air.

Sighing, he put down the utensil. "You know, the turkey is still fine from the five minutes ago when you checked it."

"I just wanted to baste it again," she said, still bent over.

"You've basted it so many times the poor bird is actually glowing! It reminds of a barrel of nuclear waste from The Simpsons."

Scoffing, Kate shut the oven. "It's not that bad. I guess I'll let you finish the potatoes in hopes you don't ruin them. The cranberry sauce is already in the 'fridge, I still have to cut the green beans for the casserole, and oh! I still have to get the yeast rolls in the oven." She stalked over to the refrigerator. "Did you get the heavy cream?"

Eeek. He knew he forgot something when she sent him to the grocery store three times last night. "Ummm, no."

"Rick!" she exclaimed. "I need that to make whipped cream for the pumpkin pie."

"We've got a can of whipped cream in the 'fridge; we can just use that."

"Canned whipped cream? Seriously?" Staring at him incredulously, she placed her hands on her hips. "What is the matter with you? First you suggest instant potatoes and then canned whipped cream?"

Sighing, Rick silently counted to ten all the while reminding himself that he loved Kate. He loved her very, very, very much. At the beginning of the month, Kate and her father had met Alexis, Martha, and himself at a restaurant for their first family meal. Kate had been nervous all week, but their two families melded easily. At the end of the meal, everyone expressed how fun the night had been so Rick suggested they get together for Thanksgiving. Had he known what would follow, he would have simply tranquilized Kate and ordered Chinese food.

Even though Rick, Martha, and Alexis could cook, Kate insisted on doing all of the cooking herself. She'd hauled out a dusty, battered cookbook he was sure belonged to her mother. The days leading to the fateful Thursday had been full of more trips to the grocery store than he usually made in a month. She dragged him to several Farmer's markets in the outer boroughs and even drove to a pumpkin farm in upstate New York so she could purchase a pumpkin for the pies. She hadn't gone to bed until after midnight the night before, baking apple and pumpkin pies-both with homemade crusts. Then she proceeded to get up at five in the morning to start the stuffing and the turkey, and had been on a rampage since.

"Cooking crew ready and reporting, sir!"

Kate looked up from shucking the corn to find Rick standing in front of the counter with Martha and Alexis. He stood straight, saluting his girlfriend. "We're ready for our orders."

"Okay, first, don't call me sir. That makes me think of the captain, and just…no. Second…" She wiped her hands on a dish towel. "I've got everything under control so I don't need any help."

"Don't be ridiculous, kiddo." Martha waved her hand dismissively. "We are more than willing to cook. I have a world famous recipe for yams."

"I got this awesome recipe for green bean casserole from Food Network's website," Alexis added.

"And I am ready to eat." Alexis elbowed his side, and Rick coughed. "I mean, I am ready to make some mashed potatoes."

"Oh, no guys. I bought everything for the recipes here." She pointed to the battered book. "I appreciate the offer, but I've got this."

Huffing, Martha put a hand on her hip. "I saw that list you made for all the dishes for today and I heard you banging around in the kitchen at some ungodly hour this morning. You do not need to play Martha Stewart."

Alexis snorted. "Look where it got her."

Kate managed a tight smile, but Rick could tell from the stress lines in her forehead she was forcing politeness. "I know it seems like a lot, but I really have everything under control."

But Martha didn't appear to have heard Kate as his mother invited herself in the kitchen. Lifting a spoon out of a pot on the stove, Martha tasted its contents. "This gravy is delicious, dear, but you know what it could use-"

"No!" In one swift move, Kate turned around and shut the door, almost forcefully, to the spice cabinet that Martha had opened. Rick didn't want to endure his mother's cooking as much as the next person, but this…this made him feel uneasy.

But Kate had caught Martha's slightly crestfallen expression. "I'm sorry, Martha, but this gravy is an old family recipe, and it really doesn't need to be tweaked. I'm really glad you guys want to help, but I want to do this for everyone. So go ahead," she waved to the living room, "and relax. I just need you to come to dinner with an appetite."

Rick watched his mother take a deep breath and plaster on smile; it was rare she ever had to fake a smile. "Well…thank you. We look forward to your cooking." She extended her arm to Alexis. "Come on, honey, maybe we can catch a movie."

His mother and Alexis had left for the theatres, leaving Rick to fend for himself. It was only when he found Kate trying to mash the potatoes while grating cheese that he convinced her to let him do some cooking.

"I'm sure it will be fine," he suggested, but the moment the words left his lips he knew it was a mistake. The refrigerator door slammed shut, and Kate's lips pursed tightly and she clenched her hands until he could see the whites of her knuckles.

Ooops.

"No, Rick. It will not be fine. Homemade pumpkin pie does not get whipped cream sprayed from a can," she snarled. "Do you know how long it's been since Dad has had homemade pumpkin pie? Thirteen years. Thirteen years and I do not plan on serving him pumpkin pie with a glob of oily whipped cream. Same goes for your mother and daughter." He could see her façade starting to crack as her face reddened and her shoulders shook with effort. "I refuse to let our first real Thanksgiving be ruined by not having real whipped cream. Maybe I can call Dad or your mom and ask them to pick-"

But her words were cut off as Rick took four swift steps, hauling her into his arms. Her body stiffened at first, but when he rubbed her back, he felt her resolve crumble. Trembling, she slowly snaked her arms around his waist.

Rubbing his hands firmly up and down her back, he pressed a kiss to the top of her head. The action usually calmed her, but instead he felt a muffled sob against his shoulder.

"I'm sorry," she whispered, her voice rough with emotion.

"No," he replied, tightening his arms. "You told me to pick up the heavy cream, but I completely spaced-"

But she interrupted his apology. "I don't care about the cream. I…I just…I wish…"

"I know," he murmured, his cheek now pressed against her hair. "I'm sorry she's not here."

Kate nodded before sniffling loudly. Her hot tears soaked his shirt, and for the millionth time Rick wished he could take her pain away. They'd finally solved her mother's case earlier in the year, putting the men responsible behind bars. But as satisfying as it was for Kate to start putting the whole matter behind her it didn't change the fact that her mother was still dead. Johanna Beckett would never be around to celebrate the holidays with her family.

They stood in the kitchen for a long time, the smells of cooking food enveloping them. Rick took to rocking them back and forth in a slow motion, occasionally pressing his lips to her forehead.

Kate's tears gradually stopped, her breathing turning very shaky. When she finally spoke, her face remained buried in his shirt. "Mom would go all out for Thanksgiving; it drove Dad crazy because Mom wanted to do everything homemade like my grandmother did. We'd have my aunts, uncles, and cousins over." Kate paused for a minute, swallowing heavily. "Between cooking and yelling at Dad for blasting the football game, she would be exhausted, but Mom loved how happy everyone was, talking and laughing all while eating her food."

It took another moment before Kate spoke again, this time with tears in her voice. "The first Thanksgiving after she died, I went to pick up Dad so we could go to my aunt's house and found him passed out next to an empty bottle of scotch with the volume of the football game turned all the way up on the TV. Dad drank his Thanksgiving dinners for years before he sobered up, and I couldn't go to my aunt's house. It just…it wasn't the same."

Kate didn't anything else as she wept quietly again. Rick didn't have to ask to know that she probably ended up staying in her apartment, eating takeout for all those Thanksgivings after her mother's death. Hell, he'd be willing to bet there had been several holidays she'd spent without Jim.

Rick did know he was extremely grateful Kate even decided to cook. She could've easily suggested they keep things low key, but the kitchen currently looked like an Iron Chef competition with the multiple pots on the stove and bowls covering nearly every inch of counter surface. The least he could do was figure out how to cut the salt from the mashed potatoes.

Finally, she pulled back from his shoulder, but he still kept his arms around her. Her bloodshot eyes now appeared to be dry. "I'm sorry for ruining everything."

"What?" he exclaimed. "Why in the world would you think you ruined everything?"

"For going overboard with the cooking." Gesturing to the oven, she shook her head to herself. "For yelling at you. For practically chasing Alexis and Martha out of the loft."

"Hey, now." Looking down, Rick caught her eyes. "Everything is fine. We just wanted to help you is all. You didn't have to do everything by yourself. Besides, I have a feeling this meal is going to be absolutely, positively the best thing any of us have ever eaten. Bobby Flay, eat your heart out."

Thankfully, that earned a chuckle out of Kate. "Thank you," she said, cupping his cheek. "For putting up with my insanity."

Solemnly, he nodded. "Yes, you are insane, but I promise not to check you into Arkam Asylum." Yelping as she pinched his side, he grinned and pulled her into a long kiss. Before things could get heated between, they heard the front door open.

"Hello! Hello!" Martha announced, waltzing to the counter. "Look who we found in the lobby." Behind her, stood Alexis with Jim.

Parting from Rick's side, Kate went to give her father a hug. "Hey, Dad."

"Hi, Katie," he returned warmly before pressing a kiss to her cheek. "Alexis and Martha said you'd already made pies but I brought a cheesecake." He held up the infamous orange striped box known to every New Yorker.

"A Junior's cheesecake?" Rick excitedly bounced on his toes.

"A Junior's pumpkin cheesecake," Alexis clarified.

"Sounds great," Kate said, "I'll put this in the 'fridge."

Jim's eyes widened when he took in all the dishes in the kitchen. "Damn, you really went all out."

"This was all Kate's doing," Rick replied.

Blushing slightly, Kate shrugged. "Yeah…well…as it turns out going overboard at Thanksgiving seems to be genetic."

Jim smiled back at her, the slightest bit of melancholy in his eyes.

"Well, uh…Dad, I was just finishing up here and was going to let Rick, Alexis, and Martha work their magic." She looked at each one of them. "Rick has a handle on the mashed potatoes, Alexis was going to try out a new green bean casserole recipe, and I cannot wait to try Martha's yams."

Alexis and Martha's eyes softened, both looking at Kate with warm expressions. If Rick didn't consider himself a brawny, rugged man, he might have wrapped them all in a huge hug.

Instead, he wrapped an arm around Kate's shoulder, dragging her over so he could do the same with his mother and daughter. He happily crushed his ladies around him. "Oh this will be the best Thanksgiving ever!"

"Geez, Dad," Alexis complained, rubbing her shoulder where it had pressed against her grandmother's side. "You are such a cheeseball."

"And the cold, not melted kind, Richard," Martha added, pulling away.

Rolling her eyes, Kate didn't say anything as she started to walk away. But Martha caught her hand, giving her a gentle squeeze. "Does your cookbook there have a recipe for baked yams? I have to admit, my recipe has gotten a bit boring over the years. I wouldn't mind shaking things up a bit."

Kate's lips lifted in a small grin, but her eyes held so much gratefulness and love. "Yeah," she answered softly. "Page 203."

Oh it certainly took every bit of Rick's manliness not to tell them how much he loved them and how lucky he considered himself to be surrounded by such wonderful, extraordinary women. Yes, he could completely restrain himself…

Until dinner that is.

"You see?" he grinned, happily returning to the task of the potatoes. "Cooking is so much more fun when you have other people to help."

"Oh I completely agree." Kate poured two glasses of iced tea for herself and father. "Especially the clean up which, as you know, is the most important part of cooking."

Laughing, she immediately dodged a handful of flour from Rick.