DOMESTICITY
2.
A/N:
Warning: deals with bullying.
"Don't make me go back. Please, mommy."
It's the mommy that does her in.
She hasn't heard it in years – not since Noah decided he was too old for it – and it breaks her heart to hear the word from James' mouth in such a desperate plea.
She knows school isn't easy for him.
Not in the way it is for Lucy, their little social butterfly.
No, for James it's different.
But he's a tough kid, even if he's shy and quiet most of the time, and he doesn't complain, doesn't dig his heels in unless he really can't handle something.
"What happened?" She asks her eldest son, who at nine years old is all thin, gangly limbs, but she still manages to fit him in her lap.
"I don't want to go back," he says, resolute, and she watches her own stubborn determination reflect in her son.
Usually he's the easy going one, willing to let things go, but not this time.
"James?" She prompts, and he knows she needs a reason, knows she's not going to let him get away with this without an explanation, so he gives in with a huff.
"I hate it there," he confesses, his face contorting as he tries to hold back tears. Her heart lurches, and she holds him tighter.
"It's okay," she soothes, rubbing his back like she did when he was younger.
"It's not!" He disagrees vehemently. "It's awful, they hate me."
The way he speaks, the way the words come out as if they're mere facts cause tears spring to her eyes, tears she has to force away.
James has never been one to make friends easily, and while she knows this, he has always had them.
He's always been able to find a friend or two, even if it took a while for the friendship to form.
"What about Luke?" She inquires, the boy having been a regular fixture in their house for the past three years, as James' best friend.
"Luke is stupid," he says, looking away as he says the words, knowing what her reaction will be.
"James," she warns, and he explodes.
"What? He is," he insists, pulling away from her, and falling onto his bed, his face buried in the pillow as she hears him sob.
"James," she begs, trying desperately not to let her own tears fall.
She's never seen him like this, never seen him so upset, and she slowly brushes his hair away from his face, wiping stray tears away.
"Please, baby," she begs, feeling utterly helpless, and when he sits up, he reaches into his backpack, producing his copy of Treasure Island, the book now unrecognisable.
The cover has been ripped off, and the pages are torn and dirty, and he's looking at her, distraught.
"Luke says I'm a loser and he hates me," James presses out, unable to look at the remnants of the book in her hands.
"Luke did this?" She verifies, putting the book on the floor and out of James' sight, and he nods, sniffing.
"He hates me. I have no one," he whispers, and she pulls him close, hating that the words are coming from his mouth. Her beautiful baby boy, who is smart, and kind and so underappreciated by his peers.
"You're not a loser," she says, pressing a kiss to his head. "You're amazing, James. You're so kind, and brilliant, and they're idiots."
He doesn't respond, but she feels in the rigidness of his posture that he doesn't believe her, and she wipes at the wetness on her own cheeks with the back of her hand.
"You're perfect," she insists, words he's heard countless times from her and his father, but he just shrugs, petulant.
"I don't want dinner," he says, referencing her reason for climbing the stairs and interrupting his homework time in the first place. "They'll be waiting for you," he states, and with a glance at her watch she knows it's true.
He gets up and sits at his desk, ignoring her, and she knows he's waiting for her to leave but she pushes the limit anyway, pressing a kiss to his cheek and hugging him tightly one more time.
"I love you," she says, insistent, and he turns to her, forever her polite little boy.
"I love you too."
"What's wrong?"
Castle's the first to notice that something isn't right when she descends the stairs alone, filling her place at the table.
"Where's James?" Noah wants to know, and she sighs, shaking her head at Castle indicating that she'll explain later, before turning to Noah.
"James will eat later," she says, knowing that this isn't going to make Noah's compliance with dinner time any easier.
"I'll eat later too," he decides, pushing his plate away, and she sighs, looking to Castle, unable to handle this right now.
"Boys that don't clean their plates don't get dessert," he reminds Noah, who contemplates this as if he's making a big decision, before shovelling broccoli into his mouth.
She chuckles at him as Lucy starts in on a retelling of her own school day, one far less heartbreaking than James', and Castle squeezes her hand.
She turns to him, forcing a smile, and she sees concern reflect in his eyes.
"It's okay," she murmurs, only for his ears.
She doesn't know who she's reassuring.
She goes up to check on James while Castle does the dishes, and she finds him asleep in bed, cradling his ruined copy of Treasure Island.
She pries it from his hands, wincing at the state of the book.
He treats his books so well, with such reverence, and she doesn't know how to fix this.
She doesn't know how to fix any of it.
She brushes a kiss against his forehead, needing Castle to make this okay, to make her see that there's a solution, that their baby isn't going to feel like this forever.
Castle meets her in the hall, and frowns at the book in her hands, confused.
"He's asleep," she warns him, and he nods, following her downstairs.
Lucy and Noah are in their respective rooms, and she joins him on the couch with a much-needed glass of wine.
She gives the book to her husband, who grimaces at it, but waits for an explanation.
"He doesn't want to go back to school. Luke, for some reason, doesn't want to be his friend anymore, and he did this," she says, gesturing to the book, "and said…" she pauses, felling the words so much more deeply than if they'd been directed at her.
"Luke told James that he's a loser and he hates him."
She takes a deep breath, unable to erase the image of James so upset.
"He can't go back there tomorrow, Castle," she says. "You should have seen him, he was so distraught."
"Kate…"
He looks like she must – utterly heartbroken.
"I think he believes it, too, whatever they're telling him, and I don't understand how that's possible unless it's not the first time it's happened, and I don't know how we haven't realised sooner." She's rambling brokenly, and he's pulling her into his arms, when she realises that she's crying again.
"We'll get him into another school," Castle decides, and she pulls away to look at him, hesitant.
"Is running away really the answer?" She wonders, and he frowns.
"You just said he couldn't go back there," he reminds her.
"I know," she moans, taking a long sip from her glass. "I don't know what to do," she admits. "I just know that I won't make him go there tomorrow after seeing how upset he was tonight."
"We should talk to his teacher," he suggests, looking as focused as she's ever seen him.
"If this isn't the first time, why hasn't she done something before?"
"We would have known if it had happened before," he reasons.
"Would we?"
She tries to track the changes in her son's personality since he started school, but she can't decipher any glaring indicators.
He has become progressively quiet, and more reserved, but she had assumed he was just growing up.
What if it has been happening all this time?
How long has her son been miserable while she was ignorant?
Is this the first occurrence or a breaking point?
He isn't free with his emotions – he likes to deal with everything on his own, and for the first time she sees the flaw that Castle must see in herself.
"I'm going to call Diane," she decides, reaching for her phone, only to be stopped by Castle's hand on her forearm.
"Are you sure that's a good idea?"
She frowns at him, but finds it an effort to take a deep breath, let alone calm down, and she sees his point.
She's in no mood to deal with Luke's mother, she'll probably only make it worse, but she's never felt this useless in her life.
"We need to talk to James," he says. "Find out more, whether this is just Luke being an asshole or something else."
She nods, relaxing into his arms with a sigh.
"He'll be awake in a little bit, he'll be hungry," she states. "God, you should have seen his face, Castle," she grimaces at the memory, buries her face in his shoulder in an effort to erase the image.
"He went to you," Castle says, hurt clear in his words.
"Rick," she sighs, stroking his jawline slowly.
"He always goes to you."
She knows her husband feels insecure about James' love, simply because he doesn't love like Lucy, Noah and Alexis do.
He isn't loud with his professions; he doesn't throw them around for all to see.
She finds it makes those moments that much more special, the ones where James offers his affections so easily, but she knows it makes Castle insecure. That, coupled with the fact that James always goes to her first, because he can see that they're similar, that they handle things in similar ways. She knows that James can find it intimidating, just how big of a presence his father is, the way he fills the room with laughter and love, and while Kate almost envies the way James reveres his father, she knows it makes Castle doubt himself.
But she sees the look in James' eyes, the way he's a little bit in awe of his father.
She sits up, reaching for the tattered book.
"You know why he treasures this book so much?" She asks, holding it out for him to see.
Only her husband's first name is still transcribed on the copy, carefully written in block letters.
"Because it's yours," she says, placing the book on the coffee table. "The books that were yours, they're the ones he loves the most. The ones he takes the most pride in looking after. That's why this hurt him, and Luke would have known that," she realises, anger bubbling at the child who so carelessly took advantage of her son's kind heart.
Castle sees the shift in her emotions, and takes her hand, lacing his fingers through hers and soothing her instantly.
"Kate?" He whispers, such calm determination in his eyes. "We're going to fix this, I promise."
James emerges from his room after they tuck Lucy and Noah in, tiptoeing down the stairs so silently he wouldn't have noticed if not for Kate.
She rises, grabbing his plate from the oven where it was kept warm, and puts it on a tray.
"Will you eat with us on the couch?" She asks, and James nods wordlessly, crawling onto the couch and sitting beside him.
He smiles at his son, who seems a little amazed that he's being allowed to join what is usually mommy and daddy time, as Kate joins them with the food, holding out the cutlery and warning James that the plate is still hot.
He eats carefully, Kate brushing his hair back from his forehead, finding it disobediently sticking out again.
"James?" She questions softly, and Castle finds himself mirroring his son, looking to Kate expectantly.
"Has it happened before?" She inquires, her tone tender. "Have the other kids done things like this before?"
James shrugs, his eyes on his meal, as he pushes pieces of chicken around his plate.
"James?" He speaks, finding his voice thick with emotion. "It's okay, you can tell us."
James frowns, but opens his mouth anyway.
"Sometimes Brayden used to take my lunch money," he admits, biting his lip, and Castle's face clouds with realisation.
It was halfway through the last school year that James approached him, so serious and businesslike for an eight year old.
"I like it better when you make my lunch, dad," he said, returning the money he had given the boy. "Would you mind?"
Who was he to deny his son a simple sandwich?
From then on he dutifully packed James lunch, and every time his son retrieved his lunchbox he would smile and say thank you and Castle treasured those moments.
"He stopped eventually, but Luke…" James chews his lip, eyes still on his plate. "Luke was my friend, but he went on summer camp with Brayden and now he's Brayden's friend."
It's suddenly clear, painfully so, and Rick reaches out to squeeze James' shoulder's reassuringly.
"Luke ruined my book," he whimpers, and Castle finds James looking up at him, pleading and hurt, and his heart stutters.
"It's okay," he assures his son. "We'll get you another."
James doesn't look all that appeased, but Kate's quick to distract him.
"Do we need to speak to Mrs Bell?" She asks, and James' eyes widen.
"No. Please don't," he pleads, looking between his parents desperately. "I'll go to school tomorrow, I will."
"James, if this is a recurring problem-"
"Please. It's not. I don't want to be a snitch. I can handle it, I can."
"You shouldn't have to," Kate says, and he hears the pain in her voice.
"I can stay away from Luke and Brayden. I can find another friend," he says resolutely, his brows knitting with determination.
"James," he tries, but he recognises the look on his son's face, the one that Kate gets when she's concentrating hard, when she's thinking something through.
"Sam is nice to me. He asked me to play chess once. I don't know how, but I could learn, right?" He asks, his eyes wide with hope, and Castle nods.
"I could teach you," he offers, and James grins.
"Really?"
"Yes. I bet you'd be great."
James is standing, glancing at the clock, which reads way past his bedtime and back to him, apprehensive.
"Would you teach me now?" He asks shyly, expecting to be shot down, Castle realises. He exchanges a momentary look with his wife, before standing.
"Absolutely."
He and James sit at his desk in his office, so as not to disturb Lucy and Noah, and he watches as James hangs on his every word, picking up each rule and instruction with ease.
James gets the hang of it quickly, and Castle revels in this time with his son, as Kate reads in their bedroom.
It's almost midnight when they finish up, and he looks to James, who is trying to stifle a yawn.
"If you're too tired for school tomorrow…" he starts, but James shakes his head.
"I want to see if Sam will play chess with me," he says. "He usually brings a board. But…"
"Here."
He hands the chessboard to his son, who just stares up at him, incredulous.
"I won't break it, I swear," he promises, holding the chessboard to his chest.
"I know you won't," he answers, hugging James tightly.
"I love you," he whispers, and James grins at him.
"I love you too, dad," he murmurs, still looking at the chessboard, overcome. "Thank you for teaching me how to play chess."
He marvels at his son, so courteous and simultaneously genuine.
"Anytime," he says, following him up the stairs.
Kate lies awake for hours beside him, agonising over whether letting him go to school is a good idea, and he can't fault her for it, because his mind is doing the same loop.
But James had seemed hopeful that it would be different tomorrow, and if the boy is willing to go back, he won't stop him.
The idea comes to him after Kate's eyes finally slip close, hours into the morning.
He saw the way James looked at him over the book; the guilt and fear that he'd be in trouble for something that was entirely out of his control, the concern that he would be deemed untrustworthy by his parents.
Castle wants to assure him, and he knows just how to do it.
He drops the kids at school the next morning, leaving James with a focused look on his face and a backpack weighted with his chessboard, and then sets his plan in motion.
It's no small task.
He stops by the furniture store with the measurements he took while everyone else was sleeping, and finds a bookshelf that fits the space perfectly, organising delivery for later that day.
The bookshelves that serve as a wall between his office and the living room have bothered Kate for years – ever since Alexis dropped by unannounced when they were enjoying some … childfree time.
Following that close call, he promised her that they'd do something about the transparent nature of the wall, but inevitably, it fell to the wayside in the face of other priorities.
Now, however, he has a way to kill two birds with one stone.
He carts the books up pile by pile, until the hallway between Noah and Lucy's rooms is filled with books and he's gasping for breath.
Organising them is the tough part.
He's not even nearly done when the deliverymen assemble the bookshelf in its position in James' room, and he calls Kate to see how she's fairing at work.
It's a quiet day, for which he's thankful, especially when he asks if she could possibly pick the kids up from school.
She warns him that she might have to bring paperwork home if she leaves early, but he doesn't even mind. He's an hour away from finishing, and it's going to be worth it, he's sure.
When Kate arrives home, the noise of their family audible before they even enter the loft, he descends the stairs, exhaling proudly.
Lucy heads straight for the kitchen, helping herself to a snack, and Kate instructs her to help Noah too, to which she rolls her eyes but complies, and he looks at James, at the smile on his face.
"How was your day?" He inquires, and James just grins wider.
"Sam beat me at chess," he declares, and Castle laughs with him, sharing the relief on his wife's face.
"What happened to your books?" James wonders, visibly unsettled by the disappearance of the books from his office, something that went over Lucy and Noah's heads.
Castle smiles, correct in his prediction that James would be the first to notice. While James is somehow their only child that inherited their mutual love of books, he is also hyper-observant.
"Come here," he invites, leading James and a curious Kate upstairs to James' room.
"Oh, wow."
James is awestruck, wonder painted over his face as he sees the bookshelf now lining his entire wall.
"Dad," James breathes, turning to his father, amazed.
"I want you to have them," he says, glancing at James' continuously growing collection of children's books on the opposite wall, meticulously kept.
"I organised them by age, you see," he starts, indicating to the bottom. "These are the ones you can read in a couple of years, maybe when you're a teenager, and then as you get older and taller, you can read the ones at the very top."
"Oh, dad," James is visibly overwhelmed; running his fingers over the spines of the books, making sure they're all perfectly in place. "Oh, thank you."
He grins at his son, not missing the unshed tears in his wife's eyes.
"This is the best day," James declares, surprisingly content with simply touching the books, reading the titles, yet not removing them.
Kate emits a laugh that almost sounds like a sob, and he reaches to squeeze her hand.
He glances at James, who launches himself at his father, and Castle feels Kate's hand at his back to stop him from falling backwards.
He has never received such a tight hug from his son, and he finds himself almost unable to breathe.
"Thank you," James repeats, unrelenting in his grip, and Castle finds he doesn't mind, not one bit.
A/N:
Feedback is always appreciated :)