Here I love you and the horizon hides you in vain.
I love you still among these cold things.
Sometimes my kisses go on those heavy vessels
that cross the sea towards no arrival.
I see myself forgotten like those old anchors.
- Here I Love You, Pablo Neruda.


This will be one of many unrelated oneshots that are probably not long enough to actually be called oneshots. Everybody else was doing it, and I've fallen behind on NaNoWriMo by about 4,000 words, so why not eh?


The bed is too cold when he wakes.

Blindly, his hand searches out for the familiar warmth of her body, her soft curves and sleepy smile beside him. Instead his hands settle upon cold, empty blankets, and not her. He pauses for a moment, trying to clear his sleep-muddled mind, but drawing up blanks as to where she could be.

He turns to the clock to find it reads four in the morning. Strange. She hasn't been awake at this hour in a long, long time.

So he pulls back the covers with a sigh, shivering when his feet come into contact with the bare floor. He quickly pulls his shirt over his head (force of habit ever since that time Alexis walked in on- well) and heads out of the room.

The sight he finds should not be as breathtaking as it is.

She's bathed in the half-light of the morning, catching the golden tones in her air, casting shadows from her long, dark eyelashes and casting a silhouette of her perfect curves. She's sat upon a stool at the island, eating spoonfuls of peanut butter with a hand atop her enlarged stomach. It's all so- So simple. But he supposes the simplicity of it all is what makes it beautiful, because Kate has always been beautiful without even trying, but now this is his. Kate Beckett is here, with him, and she wants this as much as he does.

Without saying a word he crosses the room until he's behind her, wrapping arms around her so that his large hands rest on her stomach, pressing a kiss into her hair. She doesn't startle, acting as though she has been expecting him all along. She probably has.

"Couldn't sleep?" He asks her gently.

With a sigh, she rests her head back onto his chest, relaxing into him. "No," she sighs, "the little bugger's been playing football with my organs all night."

He runs a comforting hand across her stomach, wishing he could soothe the pain. "So you came out here to eat peanut butter?"

He feels her scowl, but she giggles. "I had the strangest need to eat some peanut butter, okay? Besides, baby settles down easier when I'm sitting up."

"And you couldn't sit up in bed?"

"Well, I wanted peanut butter too, so I got up." She says as though it's simple.

He sighs. "You should've woken me up." He tells her, raising one hand to brush her hair to one side, pressing a kiss to the back of her neck. "I would've come and got your damn peanut butter for you."

"I'm fine, Castle." She assures him, craning her neck slightly to look back at him. "You don't need to coddle me."

"I want to coddle you." He sulks, forcing his lower lip out.

She laughs brightly, straining upwards slightly to kiss him gently, reaching back to run a hand through the short hair on the nape of his neck. The small action warms his heart. He always cherishes these moments, because honestly? Never in a million years, not even when they'd first got together, had he imagined that one day she would be living with him- and pregnant. It had always seemed like such a far off dream. But the day when she'd practically dragged him from the precinct with a mixture of nerves and happiness in her eyes and blurted out you've knocked me up, Castle, everything changed. His dreams were no longer dreams, but a reality. And it was so wonderful.

"Here."

Kate guides one of his hands lower on her stomach, and he suddenly feels something protruding her skin, sharp. He gasps, overwhelmed as he glances down at her.

"Is that-?"

"Baby." Kate supplies when he's at a loss for words, grinning because his happiness is infections. "Yeah."

"Oh, Kate."

He's not quite sure what to do with himself. He's so overwhelmed with love and happiness that he's lost all ability to function. But Kate seems to understand, turning the stool around so that she's face to face with him and pulls him to stand between her legs, cupping his face with her hands. His own hands raise to wrap around her wrists, squeezing lightly.

"I love you, Castle." She tells him softly, smiling, eyes bright. "I love you."

And even that- The fact that, now, it comes so easily for her, that she can just say it like that, is enough to cause the tears to start spilling from his eyes like a wimp. He'd be ashamed if he weren't so god damn proud of her, of everything they've become. Yes, he loves this reality. But, mostly, he loves this reality because it's better than all of his dreams could have ever amounted to.