A/N: A short photo prompt I gave myself just to take a break from "Somewhere..." and write something festive. The image in question is the cover for this story and has also been posted on Twitter.
Baby's First Christmas
Things seem just a little too quiet for this time of day; suspiciously quiet.
Kate finds him sitting in the corner, diaper on, and a Santa hat of all things. A string of Christmas lights lie tangled between his chubby little legs. He looks excited. Impossibly excited. The kind of damp diaper excited only daddy seems to cause.
"Hey, buddy. Whatcha doin'?" Kate sings, quietly lowering herself to her knees and crawling towards her baby son so as not to startle him.
"Ba, ba, ba," the baby yells, slapping his hands on the wooden floor and bouncing on his padded rear.
He looks so happy to see her; reveling in the great rush of delight her mere presence, here on the floor with him, sends shooting through his little body like a drug. Her heart constricts with love for this little boy they brought home from the hospital just six months ago; this little boy who has turned their world upside down. Toby grabs for the string of lights, crooked, sticky little fingers outstretched and flexing, the perfect size to hook the green coated cord and pull it towards him.
"Castle?" Kate yells over her shoulder, reaching for the plastic cable as she does so, hoping to coax and avoid tears or a tug-of-war.
Her husband skids across the floor on novelty socks, Christmas puddings and holly leaves ringing his ankles and toes. His hands are wet and scented soapy bubbles cling to the hairs on his forearms. "You rang, my love?"
"Why is he naked? And how'd he get ahold of these?" Kate asks, prizing a tiny bulb free just in time to halt its inevitable path into her son's open mouth. A string of drool stretches like spider silk between Toby's chin and his thumb. He gums the back of Kate's hand when she reaches in to wipe it away, tipping forward into her arms as he does so; a squirming, dead weight.
"Wibble-wobble, my little man," Kate laughs, picking him up and resting him against her chest.
Castle lunges forward, a burp-cloth already draped over one shoulder. He's a pro, that's for sure. Never goes anywhere without a terry cloth in his pocket or one of any number of pacifiers they have stashed around the loft, in the car, Kate's briefcase, her office at the precinct; you name a spot, there's always a pacifier at the ready. "Hey, here let me. You'll ruin your blouse. The dry-cleaner already thinks we're slobs for getting pumpkin puree on your white, silk shirt."
Kate grabs the burp cloth from Castle's shoulder and drapes it over her own instead. "There. Problem solved." Then she jigs in a little circle, humming, laughing at Toby's pure joy at getting some unexpected mama time this early on a weekday.
"I was running this one's bath," Castle explains, stroking his hand over the back of his son's head, his fair fuzz of hair so soft and glossy. "Left him alone for one minute. Look at the trouble you got me into, Tobemeister," he teases, tapping the baby on the tip of his nose.
Castle bends to gather up the string of battery-operated lights and place them safely out of reach along the top of the bedroom fireplace, where they were intended to go once bath time was over.
"Plans for today, you two?" Kate asks baby and husband alike.
"We might have," Castle answers mysteriously, tapping the side of his nose.
He's been shopping secretly for Christmas gifts, both for her and the baby, and he thinks Kate doesn't know. They made a list together, narrowed it down from ridiculous to just the boundary line of what might be considered spoiling their first child together. But she's pretty sure Castle kept the original list and is now working his way through it, day-by-day, adding stuff back in when she's out at work and Toby sits happily in his stroller chewing on a rusk.
When Castle hides behind his hands and then pops his face out Toby laughs uproariously.
"Babies never seem to get that, have you noticed?" Kate asks, finding herself giggling along at Toby's infectious gale of breathless chuckling.
"What? That's it's me behind my hands?" Castle clarifies, repeating his performance like a cuckoo popping out through the doors of an old clock.
"Yeah. You'd think they'd figure it out eventually."
"Or tire of it."
"I imagine Toby's probably laughing at how he's manipulating you right now," Kate surmises, leaning in to kiss her son and then pat her husband's cheek. "My smart boy. But I think you look cute," she adds, stealing a kiss on the lips from Castle before can think to grumble.
"Good job I love you."
Kate presses her nose to the baby's head, inhaling his wonderfully warm, sweet scent with her eyes closed for a second, before she hands him over to his daddy. Immediately after, she's donning her work persona, as she grabs her suit jacket from the back of a kitchen stool and heads for the door. "Meet me for lunch?"
"Lady Captain buying?"
"If her husband plays his cards right."
"Eh…you might want to give me the burp cloth back. Doesn't really work with Armani."
"Tell daddy to keep a proper eye on you while I'm gone. Okay?" Kate tells her infant son. "See you both at lunch. Have a great day. Love you."
"We love you, mommy," Castle sings, his voice pitched high while he flaps the baby's hand to make him wave.
"Ma, ma, ma," Toby chants, as he bounces in Castle's arms, a tiny bundle of happiness contained within a huge set of muscular biceps.
Kate blows them both a kiss and then she's out the door with a smile on her face and her briefcase swinging from her hand. This is not the life she thought she'd be living when she joined the force at nineteen, but man is she glad this is the path her pain led her down. Sometimes great things do come out of tragedy, and learning to trust fate is all it takes to get you there. With her first Christmas as both a wife and a mother rushing up to meet her, she honestly couldn't be happier about how her life has turned out.
Thanks for reading. Happy Holidays. x