Life in Technicolor
She manages to keep her hands to herself in the town car only because she's thinking about yogurt and walnuts. Nutrient rich foods.
Wait. Just.
Not yet, Kate.
Castle pokes her in the side. "Where's your mind at?"
She startles, glances over at him. "Baseball stats."
He laughs. "Ah, I see. That bad, huh?"
She sighs heavily. "That bad. Because if Alexis is awake when we get home, I don't want to scar her for life."
Castle leans back, but his hand rests on her knee, thumb circling. She jiggles her knee to dislodge him - doesn't work - and she shoots him a look.
"You are not helping," she mutters.
"You're sexy when you're trying not to be," he grins, but he does remove his hand.
When they get to their building, the car pulls up out front with a smooth, rolling stop. Kate gets out first, pauses on the sidewalk until Castle stands next to her. His hand finds hers, fingers interlacing naturally, and her heart pounds harder.
In the elevator, their sides pressed close, he keeps stroking his thumb over the back of her thigh, high up, making her body hum.
At their door Castle fits the key into the lock, and she prays fervently for Alexis to be in bed already, finds herself with her eyes closed and her hand pressed to her abdomen. Castle laughs in her ear, thinking - oh - she knows what he's thinking - and then he ushers her inside. She opens her eyes.
It's dim, the only light coming from over the stove. Everyone asleep then.
Castle is already tugging on his tie, heading for the hallway. She pulls back on his hand, untangles their fingers. "I"m gonna check on the kids," she murmurs.
He throws her a half-smile over his shoulder and she realizes what she's said.
"You know Alexis is leaving in September for Chicago," he says, sliding his tie from around his collar.
She brushes off his concern. "I know. And when she's in Chicago at school, and not here with us, then I won't worry about her."
He lifts his eyebrow, balls up his tie and starts unbuttoning his shirt. "Oh yeah? You won't?"
She shrugs her shoulders, reaches up to unpin her hair. "She's a smart girl. I'm glad she's transferring - that was a good decision."
Castle gives her a look, a smirk playing on his face. "Better for her there, yeah. Doesn't mean the worry really lessens."
"Hush. You go change. Let me check on my kids."
Kate turns away from his soft chuckling, heads for the stairs as she pulls her hair down, scratches at her scalp. In the hallway, she pauses to take off her shoes, leaves them in the floor, drops the pins in the soles so she can go barefoot.
She taps on Alexis's door and then pushes inside. The girl is asleep on top of her covers, her laptop on the bed. Kate heads over, takes the computer and places it on the floor. Alexis doesn't stir, so Kate waits until the girl's chest rises and falls with her breathing then heads back out.
Dashiell's door is only pulled to, not closed all the way, so she slips in quietly and stays still in the darkness for a moment. When she gets her night vision, Kate heads for the crib, squats down in front of the bars. She pulls down the bumper so she can look in on him.
Dash is lying on his stomach, mouth open, lashes dark against his cheeks. She snakes her fingers through the bars, turning her wrist, and then lightly strokes her son's forehead, brushing through the curls.
He snuffles in his sleep, rubs his face against the crib sheets, and she pulls her hand back so that she won't wake him.
Her little boy. His father's heart, her looks, and something all his own that rises up, stubborn and life-affirming and full tilt. It still catches her off guard sometimes, how much she loves him. How good this is.
Kate stands up, realizes she's tucked her arm up under her chest, finds herself stroking her fingers over her stomach, around and around. She lets herself imagine, just for a moment. What it might be like. How it could be this time, knowing beforehand how good it is, knowing for sure that she can do it, that this - all of this - that it works. They work.
"What's taking so long?"
She startles, spinning around towards the door, sees Castle standing in the threshold in just a white tshirt and dress pants, heels on the wooden floor at the hall, bare toes curling on the room's carpet. She hurries towards him, pushes him out of Dash's room.
"Don't wake him," she murmurs, pulling the door behind her.
Castle catches her around the waist, tugs until she's pressed against him, his smile deep, eyes only for her. When he smiles like that, she feels proud to have put it on his face, pleased she has anything to do with it, making him happy.
"You were gone too long," he murmurs, dipping his head to touch her lips with his.
She closes her eyes and lifts up on her toes to help, slides her arms up around his neck, tastes his mouth. Mm, tastes as good as he smells. She breaks to smile at him, hovering there, lifting her eyes to his. "Love you."
"Yeah? Show me."
She laughs, spreads her fingers at his neck and tugs him back. "Last time we started up here, you nearly broke your neck, and mine, trying kiss me and get down the stairs. This time - you go down first, Castle."
His grin widens, turns a little sloppy and definitely cute. "Yeah," he says fondly. "I did. Good point, Beckett. But you have to keep your hands to yourself until we get to safety. Otherwise, I can't be held accountable."
She can't help going up on her toes to smudge that mouth with a heated kiss.
Kate runs a shaky hand through her hair, damp with sweat, and presses her palm to her forehead. She's strangely buzzed, like she's stuck a fork in an outlet and now electricity vibrates within her blood.
After a round like that, she's usually the one floating in and out, knocking his hands away, trying to recover. But it seems to have only amped her up even more. She lies back against the pillow and shifts her knee wider to keep Castle's dead weight from cutting off her circulation.
Yeah. This is different. She'll have to call the doctor and make an appointment. Now she's - she's got an idea and it won't let go of her and every time he said her name in bed tonight, her whole body turned out, flipped, her stomach and heart on strings that madly and wildly jerked - like puppets. His voice at the controls.
Jeez. If this keeps up, it's going to be interesting.
She strokes the side of his face as he lies curled around her, his mouth at her ribs. Asleep already, which is good. She can finally think, finally settle down and concentrate.
A little. It's like she's had five cups of strong black coffee. And then, oh - his mouth, yeah, the feel of his warm breath slow against her skin, in, and out-
Okay, concentrate.
Time to think. Establish the timeline.
She's never been entirely regular-
Well, obviously not, right? Dashiell was a complete surprise. Castle was the one who noticed.
Kate grins in the darkness.
This time? This time she's the one who's noticed.
If it's really - if it's - okay, best to stay calm, be rational, don't count chickens, all that.
Her hand trails from his neck to her stomach, the flutter now entirely different. Her mouth goes dry while her neck, her palms suddenly become moist. Wow. She - oh -
Oh, she could be -
She could be pregnant. She probably is.
Kate blinks past silly tears and stares up at the ceiling, Castle's heavy warmth along her side. She draws her other arm up around his shoulders, finds herself squirming down so that they are face to face now, legs tangled.
He mumbles something, arms tightening around her, some kind of awareness coming back to him. She swipes at the damp on her cheeks, fixes her face for when he wakes.
His eyes open.
It takes him a moment of just staring before he seems to recognize her, where they are, what's going on.
"Kate," he sighs softly, then tilts forward to give her a lazy, endearing kiss.
She closes her eyes, knows she looks emotional and surprised and dreamy, if that's even possible. His fingers stroke along her shoulder heavily.
"Passed out on you," he mutters. "That's usually your job."
She huffs. "Go to sleep, Rick."
He lifts an eyebrow, all query but no energy to really ask. She strokes the hair off his forehead, the back of her fingers skimming his temple, his cheek, catching at his jaw.
"Love you," he murmurs into her palm, eyes slipping shut.
"Yeah, you showed me," she whispers.
He grunts a laugh, eyes flickering open just to make that connection with her, and then he's falling asleep, body slack against her own.
She needs to set up a doctor's appointment and confirm it first, and then she'll think of some grand gesture, some way to tell him-
She curls around him, a knee coming up, arms at his neck and shoulders, and buries her face against his chest, taking a long breath in.
If she's pregnant again, this will be her chance. She's going to make it up to him.
She hums at the scent of him, kisses his skin. This time it's going to be fun.
The case is boring; of course, he's texting her and distracting her all morning too. But she's got a doctor's appointment in ten minutes, and then she took the rest of the afternoon off, and so she has to get this going. Make a breakthrough on the case. She doesn't want to be thinking about the case while she's-
Yeah.
Kate taps her fingers over the manilla folder, staring at the white board and its details. It's so run of the mill. It should be easy. She shouldn't be struggling with it.
"Espo," she calls out, doesn't even turn her head.
He saunters up, arms crossed low over his chest, giving her a look. She frowns at the board. "I have to leave in ten minutes-"
"Yeah. We all know," he grouses.
Okay, so she's anxious about it.
"Spend time with Lover Boy, we got it. But this-"
She waves him off. "Wait. First. I want you to call the airline. Get a pasenger manifest. See if there was any cargo, any strange suitcases. Ask around."
"But that flight has nothing to do with-"
"Do it anyway, Espo. I'm grasping at straws here."
"Maybe you should ask the writer."
She gives him a glare just as Ryan rounds the corner, looking excited. She gave him another equally long-shot task, but he might have actually found something.
"Castle. You were right," he says, skidding to a halt in front of them.
She narrows her eyes at him even as Esposito feeds the birds with Ryan, the two of them so smug. "Very funny."
"Hey, you were the one with the crackpot theory."
"Which I was right about?" she prods.
"Yeah. I got financials on the school teacher. Looks fishy on a cursory glance. You might be right."
She can't help the pressed-lip smirk of satisfaction on her face as she rises to her feet. She is not going to admit that the theory was actually half Castle's idea. She'll claim credit. They don't need any more ammunition.
"All right then. I'm out of here. You guys keep going like this-"
"We got it," Esposito says, standing his ground for a moment, staring her down. She nods, her gratitude shining in her eyes. They're good boys.
Holy crap, her hormones are screwy. Castle's every look throws her into orbit and she's getting maudlin over Ryan and Esposito.
"Go show Writer Boy what he's missing," Esposito says, laughing, and every trace of sentimental feeling disappears.
An hour and a half later, Kate steps out of her doctor's building and into the brilliant sunlight, sliding on her sunglasses and collecting her bearings.
Her phone rings at that moment and she slips it out of her pocket, smiles too widely at his picture ID. When she answers, she tries to keep the emotion out of her voice.
"Hey, stud."
"Wow, case must be closed."
She hums to keep from laughing, knowing it would be too breathless and too - too joyful. "Close. I'm on my way to meet you."
"Oh good. Good. I'm just now leaving. Should see you there in fifteen."
"Yeah," she says, all kinds of words on the tip of her tongue that she has to - must - keep back. She's is so not telling him over the phone. No, she has a plan. Grand gesture.
"Kate?" he queries, sounding suspicious. Sounding like he knows something's not right.
Except it's so very right. "Hm?"
"Do you know if we have orange juice at home?"
Orange juice? Oh, Castle, you have no clue, do you?
"I need to get some groceries on the way back. Dash ate the last of the goldfish. But I'm thinking we ran out of orange juice; I just can't remember."
She laughs at the incongruity of their thoughts, hears him huffing at the other end. "Sorry. I don't know, babe. I think-"
"Did you just call me babe?"
She startles to a stop in the middle of the sidewalk. "No."
"Shut the front door. You did. I heard it."
"Hush your mouth," she mutters, moving again, absurdly grateful for his teasing because it brings her back down to earth a little. Keeps her from spilling the news right here and now, so inappropriately, so not according to plan.
He's laughing - hard - and trying to catch his breath. Or so it sounds. Kate rolls her eyes and steps to the curb as she checks the time. She needs to hail a taxi if she's going to get all the way over there to meet him in fifteen.
"I don't know about the orange juice," she restates. "But I gotta go. Can't walk and talk."
"Obviously not. Walking and talking makes you use terms of endearment you ardently profess to hate-"
"Shut up," she says again, a secret smile on her lips as she raises her hand. "I'm hanging up on you now."
A cab veers out of traffic and stops just past her. She disconnects the call and slides into the back seat.
"East 84th and 1st, please."
She gets to the bookstore before Castle, waits on the sidewalk below the apartment building that houses The Brazen Head. She was nervous and excited and jittery the whole cab ride here, but now that she's out in the sunlight again and waiting on him, a strange peace has settled over her, a breeze cooling her cheeks.
Everything is good. It's never perfect - nothing ever is - but it feels so close to perfect right in this moment, perfect because of all the things they've struggled through and fought through, their issues, and yet they've still managed to get here. This is exactly what she always thought she could never have, and it feels so very good to have it.
She's surprised by the hands at her waist, but she turns and practically vaults into him, hugging Castle hard around the neck. He oofs and laughs, hugging her back, and she presses her face into his shoulder and inhales, long and hard.
He smells so good. Today it's sun-sweat and deodorant and the faint overlay of crisp, air-conditioned conference rooms. He was in meetings this morning about the press rollout for the book.
Kate lets him go, schools her features when she looks at him.
It wants to bubble up out of her, flood them both. She has to stop it.
"What's with you?" he laughs again, and lifts his hand to stroke a wisp of her hair behind her ear. She has it in a loose bun and suddenly she wants him to grab it, yank the rubber band out of her hair, let it tumble down so he can run his hands-
Oh whew. Stop. Stop. Get a grip, Kate.
"Just. Playing hookey," she says with a grin.
"I get Rebel Kate today?" he murmurs, ducking in for a kiss but releasing her quickly, letting go. She usually hates to be touched so much, hates to be the thing someone else clings to, but she could totally go for some manhandling right now.
Wow. This is going to be different. So very different.
"Come on, let's go upstairs," she says, nudging him.
"Taken out of context, that sounds dirty."
She kinda wishes it were.
Michael greets them, just as he did a couple months ago, brings them inside his apartment turned bookstore. Kate eases past the two of them, talking like old friends, and heads for the relative solitude of the Russian literature.
Castle won't follow her there. She's guaranteed a chance to get herself together.
Okay, time to figure out what to get him. Her purchases today will have a theme - of course - but she doesn't want it to be too obvious. She wants to make him work for it. Kate hasn't done any research ahead of time as far as books go; she wants to let the moment decide.
And she's pretty sure their moment's not in the Russian literature.
When she's certain that Castle and Michael have wandered off to some new treasure, both of them eagerly discussing the history of the literary salon, Kate slides out from the nook of familiar titles and slips back to the children's section.
Once she's there, the enormity of it overwhelms her. She stands helplessly before the picture books, chapter books, board books, can't even bring her hand to the stacks tilting precariously in front of the first bookcase.
Kate swallows hard and turns her back on it, heads randomly in the opposite direction. She just needs a moment to get her bearings.
She finds herself in the biographies, skimming her fingers along the beginning of the alphabet, soothed by their staid spines. She skips over the war generals, the presidents, the historical figures, searching for something she can't name.
Baby girl.
Her stomach rolls at the words and she closes her eyes a moment, realizing on some level she's still not - it's still surreal. It's so different this time around. So - good. She didn't feel this at peace about being pregnant until - well, until Dash was placed in her arms and she held him for the first time.
Looking back on it, she can see how fiercely she loved Dash before he was ever born, she can admit that there really was never any other outcome for them but the one they're in now. But when she was in it, none of that was clear.
It's so clear now.
Her thumb catches on the edge of a book and she absent-mindedly pulls it out: Cash. Oh, an autobiography of Johnny Cash. She opens it and scans the first few pages, recalling suddenly a line from his song: Love is a burning thing and it makes a fiery ring.
Oh it is. It is. At this moment, nothing has been truer.
Kate flips through to the photographs in the middle, runs her fingers over the image of June Carter and Johnny Cash, the way he's wrapped around her, his face almost hidden as he looks at her, while her joy beams from her whole beautiful face as she withstands Johnny's embrace. A burning thing.
This is the theme for today; this is what they've done. Love.
Kate curls the book against her chest, her heart pounding against it, music to music, and lifts her head, scanning the rows and stacks and columns and shelves of books.
Books are the best way to talk to him when she has no words of her own.
Hey, baby girl.
