A/N: oh you didn't expect me to stay away from pugs for that long did you. For Vallie and Bee, because I love them both ridiculous amounts.

Disclaimer: Marlowe can probably afford to get his hair cut

Ryan and Jenny keep theirs in a scrap book. Esposito says he gets rid of them, but Lanie confides in them that he stashes them in a drawer when she's not looking. Alexis and Jenson have them framed and hung in the kitchen. He doesn't ask what Captain Gates does with hers. Kate's got the copies of the photos somewhere, he's not sure where, but he doesn't need them. He has the costumes and the pugs and the children at arm's reach. Every year he does it, every year he gets the box of costumes out, sets up the camera and makes home made holiday cards.

Kate comes home to find white sheets stretched across one of the bookshelves, another on the floor and a camera on a tripod. She drops her keys in the bowl, hangs her coat up. The loft is quiet. Too quiet. Usually, by now, she's been met by a barrage of pugs, or kids, or Castle, or even all three at once. But today… nothing.

"Hello?"

There's a number of thuds from upstairs, the familiar sound of a four year old, a six year old and three pugs heading for the steps, followed by the heavier footfall of Castle. Hm. She's not quite sure she wants to know what they were all doing up there. Latte, Mocha and Macchiato slip and slide and thud their way down the stairs, eventually clambering around her feet and yapping. Mary and James follow at a more discreet pace, the rules of no running down the stairs ingrained into their minds from an early age. Kate looks up at Castle, one eyebrow raised in question.

"Castle."

"Kate." He grins at her, trying to disarm her with a grin. It doesn't work.

"What on earth are they wearing?"

He scratches his head. "They're bunny rabbit ears!"

"And… why are my kids, and the pugs wearing bunny rabbit ears?"

"Holiday cards!" He holds up the box in his hands. "It saves money! And it's cute!"

"They aren't cute, Castle. They look ridiculous." She flicks at one of James's fluffy ears and it bounces around on the spring. "And I wasn't aware that a millionaire had to save money."

"It's fun, Kate. Fun. We used to have fun."

"We had fun last night."

Right on queue Mary and James pull faces. "Eww." They both say, putting their hands over their ears.

Castle grins at her. "I know. And I'm not asking you to wear bunny ears. Unless you want to. Later. With a little bunny tail."

Kate shakes her head and turns away from them. "In your dreams, Castle."

She can't believe him. Or, she can. But she can't actually believe he's going through with it. He's got them all arranged in a heap, Mary is hamming it up, he's given up trying to direct the dogs, and James is sat with his legs and arms crossed, bottom lip stuck out. And then he takes the ears off them and puts Mary and James in ridiculous American flag themed top hats.

"Independence day!" He turns, and Kate doesn't even look up from chopping an onion.

James has stopped shooting death glares at his father, and instead is glaring upwards at the brim of the hat. Castle is unaware of this as he's too busy trying to get Latte into a doggy Captain America suit. Mocha and Macchiato have already made their escape and are currently nose deep in their food bowls, little tails wagging nineteen to the dozen.

"Moooooooooooooom!" James whines, and Kate sighs.

"Castle, let them go."

"But-"

"Castle, they're miserable. Use the pugs, sure. Just… not James and Mary."

"Kate-"

"Castle, I mean it. They don't want to dress up in ridiculous costumes for your holiday cards." She tipped a tin of tomatoes into a pan, the hiss and spit of the oil covering the curse she muttered as it jumped up and hits her finger.

Castle sighs – overdramatic and childish – and she knows he's going to bring it up again later, the only reason he isn't is because they try to never argue in front of Mary and James. The water for the pasta is already boiling and she tips the pasta in, stirs the sauce and leaves them both to simmer. James has already thrown the hat God knows where, and Mary has swapped the top hat for a wizards hat. Not sure what American holiday allows for wizard hats, but she seems to enjoy it. Unfortunately for Macchiato, she has finished her tea and Castle has her on the sofa trying to get her into what is possibly a Thomas Jefferson costume. Heaven knows what he's got planned for Mocha.

"Did you catch any bad guys today, Mom?" Mary asks once they're all sat around the dining room table, the pasta and tomato sauce steaming in the bowls.

"Not today, Mary. But maybe tomorrow."

"That's cos Daddy's coming with you tomorrow, isn't it?" she asks again, grabbing a handful of cheese from the bowl. "And you can't catch any bad guys unless Daddy's there."

Kate laughs. "Daddy helps me catch the bad guys. And he's very good at it too."

"And Mommy helps you write books!"

Kate looks up at Castle to find that he's already looking at her, and he's smirking, knowing full well how exactly she helps him write books. "Mommy might help Daddy write another book later. If he's lucky."

Castle smiles at her, all warm and caring. And maybe a hint of arousal. Maybe they won't argue after all. Well, that's something. James is quiet as he eats, thoughtful and methodical as ever. He's stopped sulking ever since he got to take that hat off, has stopped sending glares at his father for putting him in the ridiculous costumes in the first place. Mary has an appetite like Castle, is already half way through her bowl, tomato sauce halfway up her cheeks and dripping down her chin.

"Mary, you need to aim at your mouth." Castle laughs. "And don't use your arm as a wipe." He warns, even has Mary lifts her arm.

Mary turns to Kate, all regal and proper. "Mommy, please may I have a napkin?"

"Much better."

He carries on after tea, but he's not really concentrating on the dogs, more interested in listening to Kate read Harry Potter to Mary and James. He thinks it's the third one, vaguely remembers a mention of Sirius a few paragraphs ago. Her voice is low, soothing, putting on accents in all the right places, and as usual, his son and daughter are completely caught up in it, complete with pug. What is it about Castle's and getting completely besotted with Beckett's? Well. Technically she's a Castle too. She's always been Beckett at work and he doubt that's going to change anytime soon. But it's true, anyone she meets falls under her spell. Including dogs.

"Castle… if you're so interested in the story stop messing with the dogs and come and listen."

He turns, looks at Mocha and Macchiato, lying there on the floor, patient as ever, Mocha in a little pumpkin hat, Macchiato having chewed hers off three minutes previously. Oh… he can always do Thanksgiving and Christmas another day. He snaps off a couple of pictures, plucks the hat off of Mocha and stands up. He winces when his knees crack, frowns when Kate laughs at him. He groans as he sinks down onto the sofa and it doesn't take long for Mary to climb onto his lap. He sags backwards until she's lying on his chest, her head over his heart, both arms wrapped around her. James is already half asleep on Kate's lap, fingers playing lazily with the ends of her hair. The pugs are all piled in a heap between them, eyes open and attentive, focused only on the story teller. Funny, he always thought that was his role.

"You comfy?" Kate asks him, looking at him in that soft doe eyed, loved up way she does.

"Mhm." He replies, closing his eyes. "Carry on."

Kate clears her throat, starts the sentence again. "Of course they were,' said Fudge. 'Potter trusted Black beyond all his other friends. Nothing changed when they left school. Black was best man when James married Lily. Then they named him godfather to Harry. Harry has no idea, of course. You can imagine how the idea would torment him"

She does the washing up when he puts them to bed, and they're tired and both out like a light within five minutes. Hm. He has good kids. He has… amazing kids. All three of them. And an amazing wife, sorry, extraordinary wife. Three dogs that may give him cause for concern at times, but he does love them all the same. Third time lucky indeed.

She's up to her arms in bubbles when he returns but even that doesn't stop him wrapping his arms around her waist, pressing a row of kisses up her neck and into her hair. "You, are an excellent bed time story teller."

"I know. They asleep already?"

"Out like a light. I wore them out."

Kate hums, shakes her hands free of the majority of the bubbles and turns around in his arms. "You're very good at wearing people out." She pushes past him, grabs a tea towel and dries her hands.

"It is one of my many talents."

"One of your only talents."

"Oh, Kate. That's not true. All the things you say about my books…"

"All lies. Sorry." She grins, throws the tea towel at him.

He catches it with a laugh, dumps it on top of the wet pots and pans much to Kate's chagrin. "You know I don't believe you, right?"

"Whatever, writer man." He watches as she makes her way towards his study, no doubt on her way to his bedroom, and he leans against the counter (trying to act completely unfazed and completely failing).

He follows after a short moment, turning the lights down low as he goes. He doesn't expect her to ambush in his study, let alone with her trousers off and her shirt unbuttoned. She's half sitting on his desk, one heeled foot propped up on a chair, hair soft and tousled around her shoulders.

"This my bedtime story?"

She smirks. "Slightly more adult version."

He laughs, low and dark, taking a couple of steps forward to crowd her, hands rising to cup the back of her neck. He kisses her, long and slow and hard, doesn't stop until she's left panting and wanting against him, her hips rising into his without any self control.

"Castle." She gasps, and he grins.

"What?"

She growls, wraps her free leg around his thigh, uses it to tug him closer. They both groan as he pushes against her, and he lowers his hands to underneath her shirt pushes it aside, his large hands spanning her back. "You better do something." She mutters, her fingers finding the buttons on his own shirt.

"You're the one who started it."

"Did not. You kissed me first."

"Oh, you just lounge about half naked on my desk all the time do you?"

"You'd know if you spent more time writing in your office than you do playing laser tag outside."

"That's harsh, Kate."

"Hm, I know." She pushes him away, moves to stand up but he pins her there with his arms. "Castle."

"I like the desk. What's wrong with the desk?"

"Do you remember the last time we did this on the desk?"

"I chose not to."

"Well, I do. And I am not doing it again. So move."

He grins. Again. "Make. Me."

Raising an eyebrow she smiles. "Do you really want me to?"

He opens his mouth to reply, no doubt something crude and something she's going to want to roll her eyes at, but he never gets it out. Instead, he barks. Three times. Kate looks down at her feet, finds three pugs looking up at both of them expectantly. She sighs.

"Castle, they need walking."

"It can wait. They can wait."

"No, they can't."

He huffs, kisses her again because he can, and because she knows he's trying to distract her from the pugs and the walking, and he's trying to get her into the bedroom. "I'll be quick."

She leans up against him, bites his earlobe. "I don't want quick. I want long. And hard."

Oh, he practically squeaks. "If you want me to walk the dogs, you cannot say that."

She plants a kiss on his cheek, smiles against the rough stubble of the day. "Sorry. Go on. I'll be waiting."