I hope you're all not too sick of Christmas stories by now to read one more. I think my New Year's resolution is going to be that if I write a holiday story I'll finish it and post it on or before the holiday.
This can be read on its own or as a follow up to my Thanksgiving-y story 'The Open Sky'.
I don't claim any ownership to Castle or anything else you might recognize.
Everything is warm and silent when she wakes. Her limbs feel heavy and rubbery with exhaustion but her stomach is grumbling with hunger. Slowly she opens her eyes and squints. All she can see are colors, bright and fuzzy. Blue and red, pink and yellow and green. Lots of green.
She has to blink a few times before her surroundings come into focus.
She's looking at a Christmas tree across the room. A tall, fat tree covered in lights and tinsel and ornaments of all shapes and sizes and colors. It shines and sparkles in the darkness and the lights create a kaleidoscope of colors spilling onto the wall behind it.
Her sluggish mind finally catches up and processes what she's seeing. Castle's Christmas tree.
Castle's tree, Castle's couch, Castle's loft.
It comes back to her then, the events that led to her being here, asleep on his couch on Christmas Eve. The horrible case- the missing little boy found behind his school, his skinny little arms and legs covered with a dusting of snow when they arrived at the scene and his smiling eyes and rosy cheeks lighting up the front of the Christmas card clutched in his mother's hand.
It was so senseless. A life taken before it even had a chance to truly begin and a family devastated all because a little boy had gone back to school to retrieve the handmade Christmas present he'd forgotten in art class and stumbled into the middle of something he shouldn't have seen.
They had worked nonstop the last two days to solve it and had spent hours with the suspect in interrogation tonight, before she and Esposito were finally able to coax a confession out of him just after midnight. It was close to 2:30 before the paperwork was done and passed on to Gates to review and they were able to leave the precinct.
She had given Castle a ride home and let him talk her into coming up so that he could give her her Christmas present. The last thing she remembers is sinking into the couch cushions as he went upstairs to check on Alexis, his paternal protective instincts in overdrive from the case.
She must have fallen asleep sometime before he came back downstairs. There's a blanket she doesn't recognize covering her and she's no longer wearing her shoes. He must have taken them off her when he tucked the blanket around her. The thought makes her cringe. She'd worn those shoes for two days straight. Hadn't showered, hadn't taken her mind off the case for long enough to even think about changing clothes.
But the thought also creates a warm feeling that grows within her. The simple but intimate gesture of removing her shoes while she slept is something she would usually shy away from, but she finds that she doesn't really mind. It's actually kind of nice to think that he took the time to take care of her when he was just as exhausted and emotionally strung-out as she was.
Her eyes slip closed again and she snuggles further down into the cozy cocoon of the blanket but her stomach growls in protest. She doesn't want to move, doesn't want to leave the warmth but her stomach's going to keep complaining and keep her awake if she doesn't eat something soon.
There's a granola bar in the pocket of her coat. She can have that. It'll be better than rummaging through Castle's fridge and cupboards searching for something.
She's craning her neck around to look for her coat when she spots the plate in the middle of the coffee table. Maybe Castle left something for her when he brought her the blanket.
She reaches one arm out from under the blanket, not wanting to expose anymore of herself than necessary to the cool nighttime air. She has to stretch for it and she can feel her scar pulling uncomfortably across her chest but her fingertip manages to snag the edge of the plate and drag it across the table.
For Santa, Love Alexis is painted around the edge in red and green, the letters clearly written by a child but still surprisingly neat. And in the middle of the plate is an assortment of cookies that are already making her mouth water.
She grabs two, a Christmas tree shaped sugar cookie with green icing and a snicker doodle sprinkled with cinnamon, and pulls her arm back under the blanket.
The sugar cookie practically melts in her mouth and she has to smile as she looks back at the plate. In the middle under the cookies is painted a brown blob with a red dot and spiky black lines at one end- young Alexis's rendering of Rudolph perhaps.
She finishes the second cookie and sighs happily as her eyes slip closed again, imagining the Christmas years earlier when Alexis decorated that plate. In her mind Alexis is at the age where she's on the verge of realizing that Santa can't possibly be real and Castle is doing everything he can to keep her believing and let her hang on to that magic of the season and the innocent faith of childhood.
Kate's eyes slide open again. She probably shouldn't still be here in the morning. Its Alexis's last Christmas while she is still technically a kid and Christmas morning is all about family and traditions. She should really find her phone and set the alarm, wake up early and head back to her apartment.
Her phone is in her coat and her coat is… out there somewhere, away from the couch and the blanket and the warmth.
She recognizes that she is being pathetic but can't find the energy to really care.
Is it always this cold at night in the loft during the winter? If it is she's going to have to talk to Castle about that.
Kate groans as she realizes what she's thinking and pulls the blanket up over her face, hiding beneath it.
But that's where their heading isn't it? That fuzzy point on the horizon, the vague someday in the future. Someday when she will routinely be spending the night at the loft and won't want it to be freezing if she has to get up.
Her chest clenches with a pang of longing when she thinks about that future, waking up on Christmas morning in his bed not on his couch and walking out into the living room to see the tree they decorated together. Behind her eyelids she can see its branches covered in a mix of his ornaments and her mother's favorites, finally pulled out of storage, and the memories those baubles bring back won't eat at her and make her broken heart retreat behind an impenetrable fortress.
Someday her heart will be light and open, unburdened by the past.
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When she wakes again it's to a thud, a hiss of pain and a mumbled string of curses. Crisp, morning sunlight is shining in through the windows and falls on Castle's mussed up hair as he hobbles by the kitchen, heading for the entryway.
Kate yawns and sits up, blinking sleepily at him and he pauses when he sees her.
"Sorry," he whispers, his voice still rough with sleep, "I was trying to be quiet but I stubbed my toe."
"Yeah, I heard," she says lightly and gives him a soft smile as she pulls the blanket up around her shoulders.
"I'm also sorry for how cold it is in here." He moves to the wall beside the front closet and starts punching at the buttons on the thermostat. "I don't know what's wrong with this thing."
She hears the heat kick on after a moment and he comes back out to the living room, stopping beside the tree and pulling his robe tighter around him. He has bright red and green plaid pajama pants on underneath but his feet are bare and she can see a toe on his right foot that's red and puffy from where he bumped it.
"Were you warm enough out here?" he asks, his brow knit with concern as he shivers again.
"I was fine," she assures him. "This is a good blanket and… I've been through worse."
She shrugs, tries to brush it off, but she can see the ghost of a memory that crosses his face, darkens his eyes and tightens his jaw.
"Yeah, well, that's all the more reason why you should never have to spend another night cold ever again."
She nods softly and stands, keeping the blanket wrapped around her as she moves to stand beside him. This close to the tree she can smell its fresh, crisp piney scent and see the details of the individual ornaments. There's a Baby's First Christmas one right in the middle with a picture of Alexis in a tiny elf's costume, several bejeweled snowflakes that are undoubtedly Martha's contribution and she's pretty sure that's a raven off to the side at the top clipped to a branch in an open space between the boughs. It's not traditional but it's Castle.
"I like the tree."
She glances at him and sees the corners of his mouth curl up in a gentle smile and he reaches out to twist the string of a sparkly snowman ornament to get it to hand straight.
"Thanks," he says then pauses as his hand brushes against one of the tiny, bright light bulbs. "It probably wasn't a good idea to leave it on all night, though. These are getting kind of hot."
He moves away, flips a switch and the lights on the tree go dark and she can't help the small sigh of disappointment that escapes her. The darkened tree looks sad without its lights even if its decorations are still shining and sparkling in the sunlight.
Castle must have noticed because he grabs her arm through the blanket and pulls her toward the kitchen. "Come on. I'll make some breakfast. You want coffee?"
He stops suddenly on the threshold of the kitchen and smacks his hand to his forehead. "Why am I even asking? Of course you want coffee," he says and shakes his head with a dramatic flair that would make his mother proud. "Asking you if you want coffee is like someone asking me if I want my own jetpack!"
She has to press her lips together to hide her amusement and shakes her head at him with a mock glare as she passes him and walks into the kitchen, heading straight for the right cabinet and pulling out the bag of coffee.
She crosses back to where he's standing by the kitchen island and pushes the bag into his chest.
"Just make me some coffee, Castle."
He catches the bag before it can drop to the ground and moves to the machine to start it brewing. "So demanding," he mumbles. "I guess you really are always like this in the morning."
She shoots another glare at his back but chooses to ignore him.
"How long before you expect Alexis and Martha to be up?" she asks.
He shrugs as he turns to look at the clock on the stove and she's momentarily distracted by the way the robe pulls against his shoulders and back.
"Anytime now for Alexis," he's saying when she tunes in to his answer. "Mother will probably be a while longer. She's never been an early riser and I think she probably went out last night."
"Oh." There's a sinking feeling in her stomach as she realizes their morning is coming to an end sooner than she had hoped. "I should probably get going then."
He spins around to face her. "What? No. Why?"
She sighs. "It's Christmas morning, Castle. I'll just be intruding."
She's shedding the blanket, looking around for her coat and shoes so she doesn't notice him coming up behind her until his hand is at her elbow, turning her to face him, pulling the blanket back around her shoulders.
"No, no you won't be," he says earnestly and his eyes are serious, a deep, intense blue. "It's fine. You should stay."
She runs a hand through her hair, pulling it back from her face as she glances away to the tree in the living room. "Castle, this is your family, Christmas morning with you daughter. I shouldn't be here."
Even as she says it she can't deny that there is a part of her that wants him to contradict her, to tell her she's wrong and that she should be there, that she belongs there with him, with them. That part of her is getting harder and harder to ignore these days, hoping for and demanding things she desperately wants but knows she isn't ready for.
"But I like having you here. We all like having you here."
And when he says things like that and looks at her like he is, it's even harder to ignore and deny herself.
"Oh!"
The unexpected utterance makes them both turn towards the foot of the stairs to see a pajama-clad Alexis looking back and forth between the two of them with a mixture of surprise and curiosity in her bright blue eyes.
She recovers from her surprise quickly though and a smile settles on her face as she continues on into the kitchen, apparently taking it all in stride. "Morning, Dad. Good Morning Detective Beckett," she greets them. "Merry Christmas."
"Uh, morning, Alexis," Kate answers and a feeling of awkwardness creeps over her as she realizes she's standing in the girl's kitchen on Christmas morning wrapped from neck to toe in a blanket that she thinks probably came from Castle's bedroom.
"Merry Christmas, pumpkin," Castle says and he wraps his arms around Alexis, squeezing her in a tight hug. Alexis pulls back after a moment and looks up at her father, studying his face.
"What time did you get home last night," she asks. "I waited up for a while but I didn't hear you at all when you came in."
Castle pulls her back into the hug again. "Sorry, honey. I should have called. It was really late by the time we got home. Nearly three."
"Did you get him?" Alexis asks as she steps out of her father's embrace and glances toward the detective, "The guy who killed that little boy?"
Kate can see memories of the case playing across Castle's face, his eyes shadowed by unbridled sorrow. When he speaks his voice is thick with restrained emotion. "Yeah, we did."
"That's good," Alexis says softly and slips her arms around her father's middle once more, her cheek coming to rest against his chest as she continues, "It's just so horrible what happened to him. That poor family… and right before Christmas…"
After a moment she shakes her head and forces a watery smile as she pulls away. She crosses the kitchen and opens a cabinet full of dishes. Her eyes are still overly bright when she turns to face Kate again, her hand hovering over a stack of plates on the shelf.
"Are you… staying here today?"
"Oh, uh, no. I was actually on my way out," Kate replies and she's a little surprised at how reluctant she is to leave now. "My dad's coming over for lunch and I need to get things ready."
"Oh, yeah, okay," Alexis says and nods but Kate is almost certain she saw a flash of disappointment in the girl's eyes followed by a glint of resentment, the same glint she'd seen outside the bank, the one that said you better not screw this up; he better not get hurt and it better not be your fault.
It throws her for a moment because as much as she feels like she knows Alexis she's never really spent that much time with her. She's quickly coming to realize that she only knows the side of Alexis that her father sees and there's more to the girl than that.
She knows that Alexis hasn't always been enthusiastic about her father shadowing and partnering with a detective and quite literally putting himself in the line of fire. It's the risks of the job and the danger of being involved with her work that Alexis is rightfully wary of, but outside of the job, if there is even a way to separate herself from it, she doesn't know what Alexis really thinks of her, as a person, a woman, a potential match for her father.
And she can't be sure that she's reading it right, but she thinks that flash of disappointment and resentment might be Alexis telling her she wanted her to stay and that she wants Kate to stop dragging her feet and just dive into whatever she and Castle are going to be.
She wishes Alexis would look up at her again, give her a chance to decipher the emotions carefully hidden on her face, but Alexis is intent on collecting the plates and silverware for breakfast, half hidden behind the curtain of her bright hair.
"Come on," Castle urges Kate with a bump of his arm against hers, pulling her from her thoughts. "You should at least stay for breakfast. It's Christmas. We can't just send you out into the city uncaffeinated and unfed. That would just be…Scrooge-y."
That makes Alexis look at her again, her eyes wide and hopeful, and her expression makes her resemble her father more than Kate has ever seen before. Castle's got the same look on his face, just a little more eager, a little more unabashed, and she finds that it is impossible to say no to the matching father-daughter expressions.
"Well, I guess I could stay for breakfast," she concedes.
"Good," Alexis says with a satisfied smile. She hurries to set another place at the counter, quickly glancing between the two adults as she goes. "You can help Dad get it ready and I'm, uh, I'm going to go take a shower. If Gram's not up by the time I'm done, I'll wake her."
She steps quickly away, leaving them alone in the kitchen, but pauses at the bottom of the stairs.
"You're making Santa-face pancakes, right Dad?"
"Of course I am. Wouldn't be right if I didn't."
Alexis nods in agreement and heads upstairs and Kate arches an eyebrow as she turns to Castle.
"Santa-face pancakes? What are those?"
He shoots her a grin over his shoulder as he pulls open the refrigerator and starts grabbing ingredients. "You're just going to have to stick around to find out."
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She's humming softly now. Have Yourself a Merry Little Christmas. The choice of song fits her somehow he thinks. A little bit melancholy and a little bit sweet and hopeful, depending on the version.
He adds a touch more milk to the pancake batter and stirs it in, smiling softly to himself as he listens to her gentle voice over the rhythmic sounds of the knife on the cutting board.
She has a beautiful voice, which is really no surprise. He's heard her sing before, although it was just a short line or two on her own before the others joined in, but this, this humming, is a different kind of beautiful.
It's the unconsciousness of it, the way she seems to be unaware that she's making any noise at all. His hand freezes with a ladleful of batter over the pan as he realizes that she's comfortable here, content and at ease.
She's standing in his kitchen on Christmas morning, helping him make breakfast, and she's comfortable.
He is overcome by such a strong surge of longing that his hand shakes and some of the batter spills, dropping into the pan and sizzling on contact.
He wants this, all the time- the two of them at home together, in the kitchen, the comfort and ease and simple domesticity of preparing a meal together.
A sudden lack of chopping sounds makes him glance over at her and he sees her pop a piece of a strawberry in her mouth. Her eyes meet his and she smiles at him, her lips pressed together and her eyes wide, a sweet expression of innocence, like a little girl caught robbing the cookie jar, smiling to charm her way out of a reprimand.
He shakes his head at her in mock disapproval but he knows the effect is diminished by the broad smile he can't keep off his face. Cute-Beckett is a rarity. He's used to serious-badass-sardonic-teasing-Beckett. This is a side of her he never gets to see. It's like a little Christmas gift, all wrapped up in the most beautiful packaging ever.
She leaves the cutting board and steps over to stand beside him at the stove. "The fruit's all set," she tells him as he ladles batter into the pan. "What else can I do?"
"Can you get the chocolate chips out of the pantry and the whipped cream out of the fridge?"
Out of the corner of his eye he can see her eyebrows shoot up as she swivels her head to look at him. "Chocolate chips and whipped cream? What kind of breakfast is this, Castle?"
"The awesome kind."
She's not moving, just standing there looking at him through narrowed eyes with her head tilted to the side.
He sighs and grabs a spatula to flip the pancakes. "We only need a few chocolate chips and the whipped cream is optional," he explains. "But, come on, it's Christmas and a little extra sugar isn't going to hurt you."
He gestures at her with the spatula and lets his eyes skate down and back up her body once to let her know exactly what he is implying. He thinks he sees a faint blush coloring her face but she turns away from him before he can be sure.
"You know," he starts when she comes back with the chocolate chips and whipped cream, "my mother and Alexis cooked a ton of food for today and about a dozen different kinds of cookies. You and your father are welcome to join us. We have plenty and you wouldn't have to rush home to prepare anything."
His heart is beating faster than it should be for someone who is simply standing in his own kitchen flipping pancakes, but his invitation is stirring up images in his mind, images of his hopes for the future, hopes that he has been keeping tamped down for a while now. But this morning, with her here in the kitchen with him, the reality is too close to his fantasy to truly ignore.
His invitation seems to have caught her by surprise because it takes her a moment to reply.
"Castle," she says with a soft sigh, "that's… that's really sweet and generous of you, but my dad and I, we're still trying to get back into celebrating the holidays and reviving our old traditions… I think we need it to just be the two of us this year."
He exhales and his stomach does a strange little flip, disappointment but also an odd kind of relief. He had meant it as a simple, friendly Christmastime gesture of kindness but if she had said yes if would have been so much more than that. And this thing they're doing, this slow build full of cautious steps and carefully chosen words, probably isn't ready for that.
"Yeah, you're right, but consider it a standing offer… Maybe next year…"
He chances a glance at her, sees the soft smile curving up the corners of her mouth, her dark eyes glowing warmly when she looks up at him.
"Yeah, maybe next year," she echoes quietly. "Thank you."
A few minutes pass in silence while Castle finishes cooking the pancakes and Kate sits at the kitchen island finishing the rest of her coffee and covertly watching him from time to time.
"Okay," Castle says as he turns off the burner, moving the pan aside and adding the last pancake to the tray in the oven to keep warm, "pancakes are done but we should wait for my mother and Alexis before we assemble them."
He crosses the kitchen to stand opposite Kate at the island then quickly glances toward the stairs and his study, feeling the tingle of sudden anticipation flow through him. She arches an eyebrow at him, a silent question over the top of her coffee mug.
"Don't move. Wait right here."
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Kate turns, watching him scamper off towards his study, wondering vaguely where he thought she might have gone while he was out of the room. He's back quickly, carrying a small, red, sparkly gift bag and she remembers the reason why she came up to the loft with him last night or, rather, very early this morning, just a few hours ago.
He reaches over her shoulder to place the bag in front of her, then moves around the island and leans forward on his elbows, watching her, his eyes alight with excitement.
"Open it," he prompts when she doesn't immediately tear into it.
She can't help but smile at his eagerness, the way he's practically vibrating with anticipation as he watches her. She reaches for the present, fingers the tissue paper inside for a moment before the part of her that loves to tease him, the part that likes to make him wait and watch him squirm, decides to prolong the tension.
She pulls her hand away from the bag and looks up at him, working to keep her smirk at bay.
"You really didn't need to get me anything, Castle."
"Don't worry about it. It's nothing big just something I thought you might appreciate," he says quickly in a rush of breath, ready for her to get on with it.
"I'm sorry I didn't get you anything."
"It's not a problem," he says, waving a hand as if to brush her concern aside. "And anyway, this is kind of a gift for me too."
"Well, in that case I guess I don't feel so bad after all."
She grins back at him and reaches for the red bag again, finally pushing the crinkly tissue paper out of the way. Her finger brushes something soft and fleecy when she pulls out the small, square card. It has a simple silver snowflake on the front and inside, in Castle's writing- For next time, just in case.
She looks up at Castle but his face isn't giving anything away.
So she reaches back in and pulls out…
A set of cuffs, handcuffs, fuzzy black and orange striped dip-your-toe-in handcuffs.
"I got them from Barry at the Love Shackle. Remember that place?"
How could she forget? Caramel sauce, a sex shop and a dominatrix. That case had been… memorable, to say the least.
She nods and peels her eyes off the cuffs to look up at him, eyebrows raised. "Next time, huh?"
"Oh yeah." He grins at her, a devilish glint in his eyes as he loops a finger through one of the cuffs and tugs them from her grasp. "I figured these would be a bit more comfy than your standard issue police handcuffs."
"Dad! Oh my god!"
They both jump and spin toward the stairs, the cuffs falling from Castle's finger and landing on the countertop between them. Alexis is frozen in place on the last step, a look of horror on her face and Martha is right behind her, looking surprised but recovering quickly and beginning to chuckle at the scene before her.
Kate can feel her face heating up and has to look away as Alexis screws her eyes shut and shakes her head to dispel whatever images her father has just put in her mind. "This is where we eat!" she exclaims, blushing furiously, her bright pink cheeks clashing with her vivid hair.
"Whoa, hey, come on!" Castle cries, holding out his hands to stop everyone. "It's not like that. It's a joke! You know, in case we ever get kidnapped and handcuffed together again, these won't cut into our skin."
Alexis opens her eyes and peers at him but still looks unconvinced.
"Come on now, there's no need to look so mortified, darling," Martha says as she pats her granddaughter on the shoulder and moves by her into the kitchen. "And Kate, there's no need to be so embarrassed. You are both adults and there is no shame in needing some toys to make it interesting."
"Mother!"
"Gram!"
Kate chokes and can feel her face and neck burning like she's been out in the direct sun for hours. "No, Martha, that's … that's not … it's nothing like that," she manages to stutter as Castle grabs the cuffs and shoves them back into the gift bag. He tosses it over her head, somewhere near the couch, out of the kitchen and out of sight.
"Forgive me for the insinuation, dear," Martha says as she sweeps across the kitchen to the refrigerator, "but what you two need is a firm push in the right direction. Lord knows you're taking your sweet time getting there on your own."
Kate's startled eyes fly to Castle's face but he's frozen, half turned away, gaping at his mother, mouth hanging open but utterly speechless. She has always known that Martha has a certain lack of regard for boundaries but this is a new level of audacity. Is this really the same woman who two months ago interrupted her in that bank vault?
Her hands grip the edge of her seat, forcing herself to stay still and ignore the instinct that's telling her to spit out an excuse, any excuse, and bolt.
But Alexis, recovered from her shock, saves them all, rushing into the kitchen in a flurry of motion that draws their attention, her voice loud and overly cheerful. "I'm starving! Who wants pancakes?"
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The pancakes are delicious, light and fluffy, with chocolate chip eyes, a strawberry nose and a Santa hat made out of chopped up berries. Then there's the choice of banana or whipped cream to make his beard and the fur trimmings on his hat and after pausing a moment to admire their creations, the whole thing is doused with a liberal serving of maple syrup.
"It's one of the four main food groups," Castle reminds them as he passes the syrup bottle to Kate. It's the first time he's looked directly at her since his mother's comment and his eyes twinkle as he smiles softly at her, a warm depth to the familiar blue.
The meal is quiet but surprisingly not awkward and after she turns down Castle's offer of a third serving she has to admit it's finally time for her to go.
While Martha and Alexis start clearing the breakfast dishes, Castle walks her to the door, helps her into her coat.
When she's finished doing up the buttons she lifts her head to find him holding the red gift bag out to her with a sheepish grin. She takes it from him, lips pressed together but still smiling. Now that they're away from his mother and daughter and it's just the two of them, the whole thing is kind of funny. Or maybe it's just the sugary breakfast and not enough sleep getting to her. Either way she can't help the small chuckle that escapes her or the wide grin that breaks free.
"This may surprise you," he says with a mirroring grin, "but I really didn't mean anything untoward by it. I was simply thinking of our comfort in the unlikely event that that scenario repeats itself someday."
"Yeah but we found a way to make it work without it being too uncomfortable." She pauses, arches an eyebrow at him. "Or did you not like holding my hand, Castle?"
She loves the slightly dazed look on his face, the way it takes him a few seconds to find the words to form his reply.
"Uh, no, I um … I actually didn't mind that part."
"So, am I supposed to start carrying these around now instead of my regular police cuffs, you know, just in case?"
"Or you could leave them at home…" he suggests, waggling his eyebrows and giving her a playful, lascivious grin that might not actually be all that playful.
"Although," he continues thoughtfully, his expression changing to one of contemplative delight, "it would be kind of priceless to see you slap those on a murderer while reading him his Miranda Rights."
She can't help laughing out loud at that, picturing it in her mind.
"Yeah, I'm sure Gates would love it too."
He makes a face, grimaces at the mention of the obstinate Captain. "I think that might actually make her head explode."
"Then I guess I better stick with the police cuffs at work and leave these at home," she says and smirks at him over her shoulder as she unlocks the door and pulls it open.
"Anyway, thank you for breakfast, Castle."
"Anytime, Kate. Tell your dad I said hello."
She nods and is about to remind him she is on call early tomorrow morning when, with a pang, she remembers that Castle is taking Alexis to California to see her mom and won't be back until after New Year's.
"Have a good time in California," she says instead. "I guess I'll see you next year."
"Yeah, next year," he echoes quietly with a soft, reluctant sigh, watching her as she fishes her car keys out of her pocket and double-checks to make sure she has her phone and her badge.
When she glances back up at him his eyes are intent on her, intense and so suddenly dark that it makes her breath catch. But when he speaks his voice is soft and gentle and his smile is the open, friendly one she knows so well.
"Merry Christmas, Kate."
"Merry Christmas, Castle."
Thank you for reading!
Reviews are always appreciated!
And a belated Merry Christmas and/or Happy Holiday-of-your-choice to all of you!