For my Beanie, my banana-prison.
This is from Bean's More Than Together universe, so things although you can't really tell, this doesn't quite happen in the same time as the show. And if you haven't read More Than Together, I highly recommend you do so. (seilleanmor, go read her stuff, she is A+++++++++++). Thank you for letting me steal your darling little people, I looked after them I promise.
Spoilers for 6 x 10, beware.
He wakes to empty sheets and a chill in his toes. It's the deep dark before the dawn, and it takes him a few moments for him to get his bearings. Kate's not here, that much he knows, because if she was he would be considerably warmer than he is now. She uses him as her own personal hot water bottle, and while not one for cuddling, she'll sleep in proximity so she can steal his body heat. But she unknowingly returns the favour, and they both pass the night in a rather lovely snug state that leaves them both loath to get up in the morning.
But something has drawn Kate out of their warm nest of blankets and bodies, and he's not sure what. And then he sees his office door. It's closed, but in the past couple of days it's been open so they can keep an eye on Baby as he slept. But there's a soft glow of light emanating underneath, stronger than the one lamp they keep on for him.
That's where she is.
And he could leave her and the Baby to their own little world, private and secluded and apart from him. But he can live with that. He can, because there is a baby in the loft, and he's not theirs, and they'll have to give him back at some point, to his real parents, or to a social worker, they can't keep him, but they're looking after a baby.
They haven't discussed it. In their usual style, they skate over almost every delicate subject that they need to broach and just enjoy the fact that they're getting married. It hits him out of nowhere, a lot of the time. He's marrying Kate Beckett. Katherine Beckett, who was stone cold and as unreachable as the sun, is going to be his wife. She's his third time lucky, he's her one and done, and right now she's looking after a baby that's not even hers like she does it every day of her life.
He expected freaking out. He expected Castle, no when he suggested that they take Baby home and look after him. What he got was a fairly breathy what but she agreed and now they have a baby. Sort of.
And he doesn't know when he'll next see Kate Beckett with a baby. Jenny, maybe, but he wants to make the most of it because how often has he imagined it? The stomp of tiny feet, the high pitched squeals, the family games of laser quest, Halloween and Christmas and Thanksgiving and New Year and Easter and – oh, he wants it. They're a family right now. Him and Kate and his mother and Alexis and unfortunately Pi, but he wants more. He wants more. With Kate.
So, he braces himself for the cold night air, pulls a face when his feet hit the floor that has him eternally glad Kate isn't there to see it, and makes his way towards his office.
He realises, once he opens the door, why he's so cold. He hadn't noticed in the dark but Kate has taken at least two of the blankets with her. And now she's curled up in one of his leather armchairs, completely cocooned in the heavy cotton, Baby happily nestled in the crook of her arm. There's a book open on her knees, but he can't quite tell what it is. Baby seems to be very interested in it though, keeps reaching out a fat little arm to swat at the page.
Kate's trying to read to him, but has to keep breaking off with tiny huffs of a laugh at his actions.
"You're a little wild thing, aren't you?" she asks him, and his attention is immediately diverted to him, big brown eyes looking up at her with such amazement. He's enraptured, completely entranced by this amazing and wonderful woman that's taken on the role of mother even though she doesn't really need to. "Are you going to sail off for weeks and a year and become the king of the wild ones?"
Ah. Where the Wild Things Are. He wasn't even aware he had that book. Where the heck did she get it from?
"Are you going to stand there all night, Castle?"
"I – no –" he startles out of his reverie, though he shouldn't be surprised she knows he's there. "I was just…"
She turns her head to look at him, her hair falling across her cheeks in soft curves. She's asking him if he's going to stay there all night, either wanting him to go back to bed or join them, but sometimes he finds that he can't quite move. Moments like these, when she looks like he's everything, like all she is, is because of him, he's just completely in awe of her. She chose him. She's committed her life to him. He's a man child, he's excitable, and he believes in ghosts and monsters and mythical beasts, and she is stubborn and calm and refuses to believe in anything at all fairy-tale even when the evidence is right in front of her. And she still chose him.
"You were reading a book to him?"
Her attention goes back to Baby, soft and warm and oh, she's completely in love with him and she can't even hide it. "He woke up. He didn't need changing, and he wasn't hungry… I think he was just lonely. I don't mind."
"We could call him Max."
"Max." She's not questioning it, she doesn't tell him no, just testing it out. "I like it."
"No more calling him Baby. We now have a Max."
Max is not as wild as his fictional counterpart. Not by any means. He is quiet and placid and only screams when he's in dire need of something. Which is great, and peaceful and wonderful during the night, but it's a pain the backside when they have to keep constantly checking to see if he's okay. Though it's easy to tell when his diaper needs changing.
Right now, Kate is trying to eat her breakfast, a bowl of dried fruit and yoghurt while simultaneously trying to bounce Max on one knee. Castle is trying to mix up a bottle of formula, but the microwave seems to be temperamental and Max is starting to get grouchy at his lack of food.
"It's coming, buddy. Just one more minute." He tries to console him across the counter, but Max just stares back at him, grouchy and grumpy and he reminds him of Kate when she's pissed off at something. Like mother, like son? Sort of. Can't think like that anyway. He'll end up adopting Max and he thinks Kate will probably kill him.
Kate pushes her bowl away, and swaps Max to her other arm. "I gotta go get his stuff together. Can you take him?"
"Yeah, sure." Max is passed over easily, no fuss at all, and instead of staring at Kate like she's personally responsible for his lack of food, he now stares at Castle. "Don't look at me like that. It's not my fault."
"You're giving him Where the Wild Things Are?"
"I – yeah. He likes it. It calms him down, and it's… it was all dusty on your shelf and hidden behind Sylvia Plath, and you didn't even know you had it, and I figured… if you want to keep it…"
"No, no, it's… he can have it. After all, Max comes from there. I'd think he'd like it."
"They might not even keep the name."
"I know, I know. But either way, I think he should have it. I mean, I doubt he's even going to remember any of this, but it'd be nice, all the same."
Neither of them are expressing the fact that they don't particularly want to give Max up. It's not even been a week, but he's become a part of their family. They've still not found Max's real parents, have no idea where he even came from, but the case has been solved, the murderer going away for life, and a social worker is coming by the precinct to pick Max up and take him to… where ever. They're both well aware of him falling through cracks and getting lost in the system, and they're loathe to allowing that to happen. But really they're not ready for this. A couple of days, that's fine. They can manage that, but they're not even married yet, and they have their own issues and it would be completely unfair to pass that onto an innocent child.
"We called him Max." Kate blurts out, just as the social worker, a young woman called Elizabeth starts to leave the room. She stalls, and turns back around, Max's head turning with her.
"Max?"
"Yeah. He likes Where the Wild Things Are, and we couldn't decide what to call him. We couldn't just call him the baby, so we called him Max. He doesn't have to keep it, if his new family doesn't like it, it's fine."
"I think Max is a lovely name." Elizabeth says, looking at the little boy with an infectious grin. It's not hard to see why she's in this job. "What do you think, Max?"
Max lets out a squawk of indignation and tries to pull out of her arms, towards Kate and Castle, and it takes all she has to not take him back. Not her son. He's not. No matter how much she wants him, they can't have him. Castle's hand is low on her back, comforting and aware and completely in sympathy.
"We'll take good care of him." Elizabeth promises, fixing them both with such a determined expression that Kate almost believes her. She wants to believe her, she wants to believe that Max will grow up to be a happy and healthy boy with no heart ache, but she knows from her job that it doesn't always happen. But Elizabeth at least makes her think it's possible.
The whole precinct watches them leave, heads swivelling as Elizabeth marches to the lift, and to her credit, doesn't let it waive her. Kate can't watch though. She turns away, trying to force the emotion down. Swallow the tears and the yearning until she is at least back at home. It's a stupid thing. It's a stupid stupid thought about dragging Castle into the supply closet and demand that he get her pregnant, despite the issues and the ridiculousness and the fact they aren't even married yet that makes her laugh. Tips her head to the ceiling, and laughs.
"I know you hated changing diapers, but are you really that happy he's gone?"
She shakes her head. "No, I'm not happy he's gone. I was just…" she shakes her head again, leans into him in one of those rare moments of affection she allows them at work. "thinking. I was just thinking."
It's always something. There is always something that interrupts her. She's trying to write out Christmas cards, and when did they even start knowing this many people and it doesn't help that Jack and Bea absolutely insisted that it was the perfect time to dress up. And she's all for that. With a father for a writer it's kind of mean to try and put a limit on their kids imagination, but Bea is running around with a knights helmet (she doesn't even knowwhere that came from) that keeps slipping down over her eyes (fifth time she's run head first into the sofa because she cannot see where she's going) and Jack is pretending to be her, and Tio and Uncle Kevin all at the same time and when the hell did he get his hands on her handcuffs? They're chasing Snicket, who, poor thing, has no idea what is going on, but Kate thinks he's supposed to be a Gryphon.
And then someone knocks on the door.
It's timid. Quiet, and she almost misses it over the rough and tumble of play. She drops her pen, marks her place on their address book, and makes her way over to the door, side stepping some epic sword fight that keeps getting interrupted in favour of exploring the giant cave that this Gryphon supposedly lives in.
She's greeted, first, by the smiling face of someone she recognises, but can't quite name. And then she looks down. Big brown eyes, a messy flop of brown hair. It's been years. Ten years since she watched Elizabeth march out of the precinct with the smallest human being, ten years since she tamped down on her own longing in favour of getting her and Castle to the right place. And now he's big and grown and standing outside her front door.
"Hi." She manages to stutter, eyes completely on Max.
Max remains quiet, shy as always. "Max wanted to know. About his parents, and his past and where he came from. And we're still having no luck on the biological parents, we thought about the next best thing. You don't mind, do you?"
"No, no." Kate laughs, running a hand through her hair. "No, it's fine. It's completely… wow. I never thought…" she pulls the door open wider, gestures for the two to come in. "My husband's not at home, he's at a meeting, but I'm sure Max would love to play with my two."
Jack and Bea have stopped mid fight, are stood together watching the newcomers with increasing scrutiny. Or Jack is, anyway. The visor on the helmet has fallen down again and Kate doesn't think Bea can see anything. "Bea, take the helmet off. You two, come say hello."
Bea scrambles forward, but she leaves the helmet on, pushes the visor up and revealing a mess of hair. Good job it's bath night. Jack is slightly more hesitant, moves more towards his mother. Bea shoves her hand out, like she's watched her father do on so many occasions. "Hello."
Max looks down at the hand, and then holds his own out. Bea shakes it, completely solemnly like she's inducting him to some secret society. And just like that, it's like Max has never left. Jack is still slightly wary of the newcomer, is not so confident in his adventure as he was before. She takes Elizabeth into the kitchen, starts the percolator.
"How is he?"
"He's good. Quiet, he's shy, doesn't have that many friends at school. But he's clever, good grades at school."
"Good, I'm glad. Is he… is he in a home, or?"
"He's been in and out, really. But there's an interested family. So, we shall see. But he's doing good. He's really good. And he's getting on well with your two."
"Jack, and Bea. Jack's seven, Bea's five."
"They've got their fathers imagination." Elizabeth laughs, as Bea promptly dubs the sofa a submarine and insists that she has to be the driver. Jack is named as the navigator, and Max as the guy in charge of the periscope.
"It's hard not to. It's infectious. I've been roped into Mount Everest exhibitions, and scuba diving, and safaris and jungle explorations… they're their fathers kids, there's no denying it."
"Jacks dressed as a cop. It's you as well."
"Yeah, worst of both of us. But they're great kids. Wouldn't ask for anything else."
Max is at Elizabeth's side, having abandoned his position of look out, and is tugging on her sleeve. "Can I read them a story?"
"Why don't you ask Kate?"
He turns to Kate, whatever shyness he had is slowly dissipitating. "Please?"
"Of course you can. There's a load of books over by the window, if you want to go and pick one."
But Max is shaking his head and is reaching for Elizabeth's bag. "I bought one."
And then he's bringing out a tattered and dog eared and sellotaped copy of Where the Wild Things Are. She recognises it. Ten years and of course she recognises it. She remembers ten years ago, of two nights sitting in the old leather chair in Castle's study with Max in her lap and the book on her knee. "You kept this?"
"It's one of my favourite books."
"It's one of mine too." She leaves Elizabeth at the counter, heads over to the sofa. She takes her handcuffs from Jack, finally relieves Bea of the helmet (she looks up at him with shiny eyes and a huge smile) and gathers them all on the sofa with Max in the middle. At the last minute she remembers, makes a quick detour to the linen cupboard and prays that the blankets are still in there somewhere. Right at the back, they smell slightly musty but for the purposes of now, they'll do. She wraps them around all three of them, warm and snug, just like she remembers. Bea is leaning on Max's knee, trying to get the best view of the book to the point that Max can't really see what he's trying to read, and Kate pushes her back slightly with one finger.
Max looks up at her, looking just as adoring and intent as she remembers and it steals her breath for a moment until she smiles back at him. It takes all she can not to ruffle his hair. She wishes Castle was here to see this, is tempted to phone him so he can cut the meeting short and come home.
Max turns the first page, which Kate sees as almost falling out, and makes her mind up to fix it to the best of her ability before the two leave.
Max takes a deep breath, and begins.
"The night Max wore his wolf suit and made mischief of one kind… and another…"