For zipit-kitten from her Secret Stana. Merry Christmas!
Kate had made the decision to start a new tradition on such a whim that she found herself unprepared, clothing wise. Over the months, she's left a few things at the loft: pajamas, an older pair of jeans, a few tee shirts and a hoodie. But none of it is right for today.
Which is how they've ended up at her apartment on Christmas afternoon, so that she can find something "more Christmasy" to wear. Her words, air quotes and all. But now that she's here in front of her wardrobe, she's not sure what that means. She hasn't done "traditional" Christmas in a very long time and, as such, has never felt the need for holiday themed kitsch. It was a point of pride for a long time, she didn't give in to all of that commercialized crap. But it's a lot of that crap that Castle loves and even though she has yet to spend 24 hours in his Christmas Wonderland, his enthusiasm is catching.
She knew that being with Castle would change things about her, but she never thought that cursing the fact that she doesn't have one sweater with a damn deer on it would be one of them. She's gonna have to go on one of those crazy hunts for an ugly sweater, isn't she?
Actually, that sounds like a good idea.
She pokes her head into the living room. "Hey, Castle?"
"Hmmmm?" is all she gets out of him, engrossed in some game on his phone as he is. But she knows he's listening, multitasking with his senses.
"How do you feel about the phrase 'Ugly Sweater Christmas'?"
All attention to the game in his hand is lost as he turns to her with wide, excited eyes and an open mouth smile. "I've never been able to talk Mother and Alexis into it but if we tag-team them, it might actually become a reality!"
She shakes her head at him, affection warm on her face. "How did I know that would be your answer?" She slides back into the bedroom, and towards her clothes again, hoping to uncover something wearable today.
"Hey, Kate?" he calls out.
"Yeah?"
"You're the best." She hears the smile in his voice and a matching one breaks across her face as well.
But she's gotta keep him on his toes, throws back, "I know," in response. She hears the rasp of denim on canvas as he pushes off the couch, his footsteps hurried and then he's at the bedroom doorframe.
"Did you just Han Solo me?" he asks, his voice part-incredulous, part-pride.
She runs the conversation back in her head, thinks about the delivery of the words that were said and can completely understand why he would think that. "Not intentionally but, yeah, I guess I did."
His hands are on her waist then, strong and insistent, walking her backwards towards the bed. He hovers his lips over hers, murmurs, "You really are the best," before capturing her mouth.
She doesn't deny that she's teased him over the years (thrown out comments that she knew would send his imagination into a tailspin, popped an extra button at his suggestion), even continues to do so now that getting him hot and bothered means that she gets to reap the rewards. But these moments are her favorite. The ones where she's not doing anything intentional, she's just being herself and it garners this kind of response.
She runs her hands up his chest, settles her palms on either side of his neck as his hands slide under her shirt, trailing fire in their wake. She sighs into his mouth as their tongues dance, jostle for position. Her calves hit the sideboard of the bed, knocking them apart for a second and that's the moment that her brain chooses to remind her of the thing that she was going to talk to Castle about once she had found suitable clothing.
His mouth is coming for hers again but she turns her head and his lips glance off her cheek instead. He must have seen that as a suggestion because he goes with it, paints a line of kisses across her jaw towards her ear.
"Hey, I had an idea," she manages to pant out even as his tongue is flicking at her earlobe.
"I have about five," he growls in response, taking the lobe between his teeth. A low moan escapes her throat, unbidden, as he continues his exploration down the soft column of her neck.
"No, but it's about…" Her words trail off as his teeth scrape the skin over her collarbone, his tongue following behind. He really is good at this – but no, wait, she was telling him something. She gets a grip on his biceps, pushes him away enough that he can't reach her with his distracting mouth. "Movie," she blurts out.
His face screws up in pure confusion. "Movie?" he questions. Then his eyes light up. "Of this?" He sounds so hopeful.
"No," she clarifies and he's completely crestfallen. "But keep that on the list," she adds with a mischievous twinkle in her eye. "But seriously, I had an idea of what we could do this afternoon."
"This wasn't doing something?" he asks, motioning in the space between them.
She ignores the comment though she's not sure which one of them she's distracting from that particular topic. "You shared your traditions with me and I was thinking that I could share one with you as well."
"Ooookay," he draws out, kiss-fuzzed brain still struggling to keep up.
"Well, okay, it's not exactly a tradition because I haven't done it every year but I've done it most years and I thought that maybe-" he stops her with a kiss, hard and fast, on and off her lips before she registers he was there.
"Spit it out, woman." There's no annoyance in his tone, it's all amusement. He only knew the confident, well-spoken detective for so long and he loves when his girlfriend stumbles over her words and rambles when she's nervous.
She rolls her eyes at herself (he knows it not at him because she ducks her head before she does it) and huffs out a laugh. "Fine. Do you wanna go see a movie today?"
They haven't yet talked about what they were going to do this afternoon; his mother took off to spend time with some folks from her studio and Alexis left when she got a call from Columbia friends to have coffee and hang out, leaving the two of them to their own devices. "That sounds great, actually."
She smiles, lips closed, eyes bright, pleased with a touch of shyness. "How do you feel about musicals?"
He raises an eyebrow at her. "You've met my mother, right?"
This time the eye roll is for him. "But is the love of theatre genetic?"
He's confused again. He takes a breath, sighs it out, shifts his feet. "I thought we were talking about movies?"
She chuckles at that, lifts a hand to rub her thumb between his eyebrows, smoothing out the mountains he's twisted his skin into. She should put him out of his misery. "Les Mis is out today," she explains.
"Oh, yeah!" He remembers his mother talking about it when they were first filming. Seems like that was a few years ago though. "You wanna go?"
"Nah," she shrugs, face neutral. "I just like to stop hot make-out sessions to talk about films." She can't help but grin at him then, way too proud of herself.
He narrows his eyes. "I'm on to you, Kate Beckett."
She has to kiss him for that, share her joy. Let him know with her mouth how much she loves that it's this easy, that they tease out of affection. She pulls back, bumps his nose with hers and her eyes are still glittering.
"So, what do you say?"
"This is your tradition?"
"Mostly. I didn't go every year but when I would get out of work, I'd usually see what was playing and then go if anything sounded interesting."
"To the movies by yourself on Christmas day?" He really doesn't understand. Movies are a social experience; you have to go with other people so that you can talk about it after.
"It's fun. Great people watching. Certainly better than sitting by myself in my apartment most of the day."
"What'd you see last year?"
She doesn't want to answer this but she already withheld information from him this week, even lied to spare his feelings and while she was lucky that he was understanding of that, honesty seems to be the easier route here. "I didn't. I just wanted to go home."
"Nothing you wanted to see?" It could be an innocent question but she hears everything he's not saying. He can tell she's hedging around something.
"Didn't want to surround myself with strangers." She drops her eyes, fiddles with one of the buttons on his shirt. He says nothing, waits her out. He's really making her say it. "I would have rather been with people I care about."
He puts a finger under her chin to raise her face to his, slides his hand over and lays it against her jaw. "You could have come over, you know."
"I do. I…" she hesitates and tries to drop her head again but is buoyed by his touch. This is something that he would want to know, even if there's nothing to be done about it now. "I almost called you at least 5 times. I never could hit the button to do it."
"You sent me a text," he murmurs, remembering.
"Yeah. Typing out 'Merry Christmas' was as much as I could manage." She drops her eyes.
"Hey," he says softly and she flicks her eyes back to his. "You're managing a hell of a lot more than that now." He drops his hand from her face, shoves it into his pocket and comes back out with his phone. "I'll see when the movie's playing."
He swipes at the screen, taps in his passcode, calls up an app like they weren't baring their souls seconds before. How he can forgive her so easily is still somewhat of a mystery to her. She basically strung him along for a year (she knew her endgame, where everything was headed but he was just along for the ride) and he still…loves her. She can think the word most of the time even if she has a hard time getting her lips around it. He's forgiving of that, too. Just waiting. Always patient with her.
"Not a surprise, but most places are sold out," his voice brings her out of her thoughts. He scrolls down a little bit more. "Oh, here's one." She leans over to see but he tilts the phone away from her sight.
What the hell?
He takes a step away from her, tapping on the screen. He finishes with a flourish, raises a fist in the air triumphantly. She narrows her eyes at him. "What are you doing?"
"I abided your wishes and didn't buy you a Christmas present, let me get movie tickets," he answers cryptically as he slides the phone back in his pocket.
"Okay, but it's not like I don't know what we're going to see so what's with the secrecy?"
"It's a surprise."
She fixes him with a stare, not quite the same as the one she gives in interrogation but it's the same idea. He squirms but holds his ground, mouth shut tight, secret safe.
But then his body language changes, confidence in the lines of his stance. "Don't you trust me?" He's smug because he knows the answer to this.
She bites the inside of her cheek to stop the smile that wants to break across her face (thank god he can joke about that case now) and shakes her head at him. "That is low."
He grins wide, comes back to her, slings his arms around her waist, slots her hips into his. "Movie doesn't start for an hour and a half and the theatre's only 20 minutes away."
She slides her hands up his biceps, hooks her arms around his neck. "Thank you for that exposition."
"You're so hot when you throw literary terms at me."
She tightens her arms, presses her chest into his and brings their lips within a hairsbreadth. "Only when I use literary terms?" The low pitch of her voice isn't completely intentional.
His mouth opens and closes a few times as though he means to speak. He gives up and dives for her lips, a growl rumbling in his chest.
She loves that she has the power to make a best-selling novelist completely speechless.
They get to the theatre 10 minutes before the movie's set to start (or 10 minutes before trailers anyway). Kate's entirely stressed out about this fact, the place is as packed as expected and she's positive that they're going to be stuck with crappy seats. Castle's completely unfazed though, calls up the confirmation email and slides it under the scanner that the ticket attendant motions to.
"You'll want to keep that email open, the ushers at the door will need to know where to seat you," the kid mentions as something beeps for him on the other side of the podium.
"Thanks," Castle replies. "Merry Christmas."
"Merry Christmas, sir. Ma'am," he adds, nodding at Kate.
Seriously, kid? Ma'am?
She shakes it off as Castle places his hand on her back, directs her towards a door where the aforementioned ushers-
Wait a minute. Ushers?
She stops in her tracks. "Seriously, what did you do?"
"If you take another fifteen steps, you'll find out." His smile is entirely too bemused. He reaches for her hand, tangles their fingers together and tugs to get her moving again. He shows the email to the usher who opens another door beside the main theatre doors and motions for them to enter. They do so to find a lighted stairway ahead of them. They ascend, the usher following and at the top of the stairs, it clicks for Kate.
"Movie suite?" she asks Castle as the usher moves ahead of them to lead.
"Just VIP seats, actually, the suites were booked." He sounds disappointed but she lifts up to land a sloppy kiss on his cheek as they walk.
"It's perfect," she assures him.
He grins, an added bounce in his step. The usher stops and motions to a couple of plush, leather seats. Kate sinks into the cushion, immediately vowing to never sit in a regular movie theatre seat again. She's at the perfect vantage to watch Castle shake the usher's hand and the money he slips in the guy's palm isn't lost on her. That he tipped the man is common but as Castle sits down, she notices that the usher stops in his retreat, turning wide eyes back at her partner, looks down at the cash in his palm, back to Castle again before he shakes his head and walks away.
"What's going on?" he asks, turning to see what she was looking at but the usher's already gone.
"What did you give him?"
"A tip." He shrugs but she can tell he's the one that's hedging now. So she turns his tactic on him, waits him out. "It was a hundred," he practically whispers. Her jaw drops. "It's Christmas!" he cries defensively.
She's already recovering, grabbing his face and angling it towards hers to capture his lips for just a moment. "I think it's sweet. He's working on Christmas, I'm sure he appreciates it."
He huffs out a relieved sound, shoulders relaxing. He leans his forehead on hers, coasts his hands up to rest on her thighs, breathes her in. He's just so damn grateful. That she's here, that she's in this, that she understands him. He's never had a woman that understood his generosity. Meredith wanted to keep it all for themselves, Gina saw it as wasteful and any of his fly-by-night romances thought he was just showing off. But Kate understands, she knows he's sharing because he is completely aware of how lucky he is.
He lifts his head to look at her, opens his mouth to tell her how much it means to him, when a voice cuts in.
"Hey. Castle." The words are disjointed, a hesitant pause between them. Kate has to turn around to find the source of the voice but as soon as he flicks his eyes over, Castle sees Kevin Ryan standing in the aisle, flanked by his lovely wife. Kevin looks almost angry for a second but then focuses on Kate when she turns to face him.
"Beckett." Surprise and relief flood the surname. Because for a second, he didn't recognize her. Her hair's lighter and longer than he's ever seen it and he hasn't quite gotten used to it.
To be entirely honest, he was afraid that he was going to have to kick Castle's ass to defend her honor. And he would have done it, too. In public. In front of his wife. On Christmas. He would have done that for his friend.
But he doesn't have to. Thank god.
"Hey guys," Beckett is saying as the red wash of anger subsides. "Merry Christmas." Her tone is light and friendly but she gives him a weird look and he's sure she noticed his odd behavior.
"Merry Christmas," Jenny responds as he's still looking for his voice, hers bright and cheerful. He is so thankful for his beautiful wife right now.
"You guys usually come to the movies on Christmas?" Castle asks.
"No," Kevin answers. "But the house was really loud with everyone there and we just needed a break so we escaped."
The lights dim for a moment and the usher that had been politely waiting on them speaks up. "Film starts in 5 minutes, sir."
"Sure, sorry."
"I understand," she says, her smile reflecting her words. He turns back.
"Nice to see you," Jenny enthuses.
"You too," they chorus in unison. (Do they really not notice how often they do that?)
Kevin and Jenny turn to follow the usher. When they reach their seats, he can't help but look back at them again. Because knowing they're together and seeing them together are completely different things. Beckett and Castle out in the wild. They don't see him staring, are busy giving orders to their server. But Kevin makes note of her hand on his shoulder, his on her knee and marvels at how it seems completely natural.
"They look good together," Jenny comments from her seat, tugging his sleeve to encourage him to sit.
"Yeah," he agrees as he settles on the soft leather. "It's just weird. Because we all know but they don't do thatat work and sometimes I forget that it's not just the same flirting that they've done for years."
"That's not flirting anymore." Jenny chuckles. She cranes her neck to catch another glimpse. "Love looks good on her."
The word stops Kevin cold. Love? He turns to look at the co-workers that he's called Mom and Dad for years. It's been easy to see on Castle for a while now but Beckett? But then he really thinks about it and has to admit, she's been smiling more than she ever has and most of those are aimed at Castle and paired with soft eyes. Actually, in hindsight, she's pretty terrible at hiding it at work. How is it that they didn't notice?
His wife is laughing at him. "You really didn't see it?"
"No," he admits sheepishly.
"But I'm right, aren't I?" By her tone, it's obvious that she's proud of herself.
"This is like talking about my parents' relationship, can we not?" He's curling in on himself like he's trying to hide from it.
Jenny laughs again (or rather, she hasn't stopped) and leans over to kiss him on the cheek. "Sure."
The movie is fantastic, just as fast paced as Kate remembers the stage show to be but even more intense because the cameras take you inside the lives of the characters and all of the pain and suffering is splashed on the big screen. She's glad that she knew the story because the tone of the film could put a seriously depressing damper on the day. Though it would take a lot to dampen Castle's Christmas enthusiasm and, thankfully, the movie isn't enough to do it.
They decide to walk around for a bit, chatting about their favorite parts as they wander the streets of their city. Castle loved "Master of the House" because "it was a nice to have a humorous break from all the crying French people." She laughs at that, loud and bright, the sound bouncing off storefronts and office buildings. It's infectious and he loves that he caused it, loves that he gets to share it with her.
"What about you?" he asks her when the laughter dies down.
"You know, I thought I knew the answer to this but it changed while we were watching the movie. The first time I saw the show, I spent a lot of time thinking that I could sympathize with Cosette. But she's an orphan and barely knew either of her parents. It's not the same."
He raises their linked hands to his lips, presses a kiss to the back of her gloved hand.
"It's okay," she assures him and he can see that means it. Her eyes are clear, not shrouded over with tragedy. She's remembering, not wallowing. "But still, 'Castle on a Cloud' was a favorite of mine for a while." He opens his mouth for a quip but she bumps him with her shoulder. "Don't. It's too easy."
"Oh come on!" He blurts out. "You can't keep setting those up and then closing the door on me!"
She chuckles at him, lifts their hands to kiss his in a mirror of his earlier action.
"But today," she begins to get them back on track, "There was something about 'I Dreamed a Dream' that had me not just hearing the song, but really listening. 'I had a dream my life would be so different from this hell I'm living,'" she quotes and he's disappointed that she doesn't sing the line. "That's how I felt for a long time. But I don't-" she stops for a moment because the words aren't right. And she wants them to be right for him. She keeps walking as she thinks, uses the forward motion to encourage the right phrasing to emerge. "I lived in a kind of hell for a long time and it was my own fault because I put myself there. I thought that when I stopped looking into the case that it wouldn't be like that anymore. But the case was just an excuse for my feelings and missing my mom didn't go away just because I put all the evidence in a box. It's been different this time, better, not doing it on my own. I did dream that my life would be different. Still do sometimes. But it's not a hell anymore." She slides her eyes over to him to see a wistful look on his face.
"I've often thought that I wish I could have met your mom but from the way you talk about her, I think I have. I know her because I know you," his voice is low and a little rough and the barely concealed emotion is enough for her to feel moisture in her eyes and a lump in her throat.
She lets go of his hand so that she can hook her arm through his, brings their sides flush together and lays her head on his shoulder. It makes walking a little awkward but she's determined to not stop their momentum, to not stay in the past. To keep celebrating the light, as Castle mentioned yesterday.
There's music flowing out of a store as they walk past and Kate picks up on one of the lines, feels it wrap around her, infuse her with warmth.
The heart of this Christmas is in you and me.
She snugs into his side even further and wants to tell Castle why, wants to point out the lyrics that heal the ones from the movie.
"You and me, Kate."
He heard.