Title: Not The Lion King

Pairing: Castle/Beckett

Spoilers: Maybe one for The Good The Bad And The Baby if you squint super hard, but otherwise none.

Notes: Future fic, baby-involved, flufftastic. This was inspired by a beautiful picture by hetouchesthings that came across my dash on tumblr.

Her husband was hovering at her back. He had been since she started taking the slow, measured steps between rooms, but he hadn't said a word to her. Not a word about taking it easy, not a word about how she was feeling, or questioning her ability to make it. His concern was sweet, but the way he trusted her to know her limits was sweeter. Yes, she was tired. Yes, she was sore. More so than she'd probably ever been, save for the weeks immediately after she was shot. She relished this soreness, though. It was worth it to feel the solid weight of her son in her arms.

And solid he was. Throughout her pregnancy, she'd heard horror story after horror story about the possibilities ahead. She had been regaled by her mother-in-law with stories about her husband's large head, about how big he was when he arrived – over a week overdue on April Fool's Day, no less – about how she should hope they were having a girl if there was any hope of the baby being dainty and petite the way Alexis had been. Sure enough, her son had taken after his father. As he'd grown, so had she, but she'd only been able to grow so much. Delivery had been difficult; she'd pushed for over an hour, close to two, and he'd barely budged (typical Castle in the middle of the night, really). Then her blood pressure had risen, and they were worried the baby would be in distress, and she was being prepped for a C-Section. It was mostly a blur after that until Castle was pressing teary, grateful kisses into her sweaty hair and whispering almost-nonsensical words of love for her and their son.

She'd been so tired the first time she held him, she'd thought his weight was her imagination. It wasn't until Castle was recounting his stats for probably the fortieth time to anyone who would listen that she realized she'd delivered a bigbaby. A beautiful, perfect, strong and healthy baby. She'd done damn good. Even if at first she wasn't able to hold him for long periods of time without feeling her body want to revolt, she'd done damn good, and she wanted everyone to know it. So much so that she'd agreed to having people over just to meet him.

"So how are we going to introduce him?"

She lifted an eyebrow, twisting slightly to see her husband's face. Excitement radiated out of every pore, from the edge of his mussed hair to the eager bow of his lips. It was contagious, that eagerness, and she grinned in return.

"What do you mean?" Her gaze shifted to their son, passed out in her arms. They'd bought him a onesie specifically for this occasion, but after he'd finally fallen asleep having been up most of the night, they'd decided his stylish, minimal outfit of a diaper would suffice. Neither of them would be stupid enough to risk waking him to get him changed. They knew by now that noise from their guests wouldn't bother him, but manipulating his arms and legs into clothing would be cause for trouble.

"Well we can't just say 'meet our son,' Kate. That's boring. Plus technically they've all already met him."

Her lips connected with his chin. He'd decided to shave just for this afternoon and she missed the ticklish scrape of stubble he'd been sporting for the last couple of days. It kept things interesting when she was in danger of dozing off mid-kiss.

"I was thinking about climbing on the table and holding him out Lion King-style, but if you have other ideas, let's hear them," she drawled, pressing her smile against his skin, just in case the sleep deprivation wouldn't let him understand how thoroughly kidding she was.

"Funny," he hummed, dipping lower to rub his cheek against hers. "Besides, that would make someone in this family Scar and we don't want that."

"No, no we don't." Her head bumped against his. "But I have a better idea. Follow me."

His hand settled against the curve of her waist, careful not to dip anywhere near low enough to aggravate her incision. "Lead the way."

They stepped onto the patio together, grinning as all eyes turned to them. Her father was the first to step up to meet them, his thumb brushing his grandson's socked foot. She wasn't sure he'd stopped smiling in days, maybe weeks. Not since she and Castle had revealed the secret to him.

"Hi Dad." She kissed his cheek gently. "You can have him in a minute; I just want to make a quick introduction."

The delighted smile never left her father's face, even when he stepped back to give her room. Castle was already greeting everyone with his usual gusto, but soon enough it was her turn. And since this was definitely not The Lion King, she didn't thrust her baby away from her chest for all the world to see.

Instead she kissed her son's forehead, relishing in how soft and sweet he smelled (especially compared to the aftermath of the diaper explosion the night before – her fault for not fastening things tightly enough) as he slept on. She could feel Castle at her back, his arm tucked just slightly under hers to help her support the baby after the trek across their wing of the house. She could feel him oozing love and pride for the three of them. For everything they'd accomplished to get here so she could announce,

"Thomas James Castle, meet your family."