Playing with other people's toys was always more fun & also no offence is intended...


Jackass

Returning from the store, his mission complete to find something suitable for dinner Castle pushes his way into the loft with hefty sacks stuffed with food to keep them both happy. It's quiet and at first he thinks that Kate has not yet made it home, but taking a few steps inside, he sees that the TV is on and tuned to a rolling news station, though the volume has been muted. He wonders if perhaps she's fallen asleep while watching again, quieting the irritating chatter rather than simply turning it off. Better still would be if she would turn in for a proper nap. She needs it.

He quietly places the bags on the kitchen island, then treading lightly in case his suspicions are correct, he goes to check on her. She is indeed slumped on the sofa with her legs folded beneath her, but she is not asleep, instead he finds her in a flood of silent tears, while cradling the enormity of her distended belly as best as she can.

"Kate." He blurts as he sinks down on protesting knees into the space before her. Panicked he reaches for her. "What is it my love? Is it the baby?"

She looks up. "No," comes her swift answer, calming him a little, at least his heart settles back from its previous location in his mouth. But then a look of confusion ticks through her eyes, while a wave of abject misery breaks, washing over her features once more and her answer changes, "Yes!" she sobs. It's a couple of minutes before it recedes. He can see her trying to exert control over her traitorous emotions, so volatile throughout the course of these past several months, and perhaps only growing more erratic as she nears her due date.

"I can't believe that our baby will be born in to a world where Donald Trump is the president," she manages before she dissolves into tears again. He knows it's for the most part a hormone induced meltdown, but he also understands that there are very real concerns nibbling away at her, he feels them and knows many others do too. But his main worry and focus in this moment is Kate. He envelops her in an embrace, letting his hands roam over her back, feeling the tension in her muscles only made worse by the jerking sobs wracking her body. He wonders how long she's been like this and guilt floors him, for not being here and for being fifty percent responsible for her being in this predicament in the first place.

He knows his presence is calming her and his magic fingers are doing their work to soothe her, but he wants to help her out of this funk as soon as possible. "You know in parts of England, 'trump' is commonly used as another word for fart?" he offers. He feels another jerk from her body against his own, but this time it's accompanied by a snort of exhaled laughter. She pulls back and looks at him with sceptical eyes. "True story," he insists. "And in cockney rhyming slang a 'taking a Donald' is to have a shit? 'Donald Trump – dump'" he explains. It sets her giggling off again, and instantly he feels better.

"They both seem appropriate," she says wryly.

"Right?" he agrees with a grin.

But Kate sobers again and he can see that she's dwelling on the issue. "Hey," he says calling her attention back to him. "It's ok."

She shakes her head with exaggerated movements to illustrate her adamance. "No it's not Rick. Nothing about that…" she breaks off searching for a way of putting her thoughts and fears into adequate words, but she finds one of her favourites will suffice, "that Jackass being in power is ok."

"I know," he concedes and hugs her tighter, loving her all the more for her anger and intolerance at and of it.

Too soon she pulls away again and wipes angrily at her tired, reddened and wet eyes. Then her hands take on a more comforting task, wandering over the taught skin of her belly through the thin fabric of her shirt, alternating between stroking and gently drumming fingertips in answer to the movements he knows she feels from within. "By the time she gets here he'll have been in the White House for a month already." She shakes her head again and huffs out a shaky breath, sounding exhausted. "It just feels like a disaster waiting to happen. And there's nothing we can do about it."

He doesn't know what he can say that will help, all he can think of to do is offer the comfort of a hug. A proper one. "Come here." He hauls her to her feet, she comes willingly enough, but as big as she's become the helping hands are welcome. As they remain locked in this intimate moment, his mind continues to whirr and he finds himself fixating on one thought in particular.

"Do you remember Simon Doyle?"

The name dropped out of the blue, without context, it takes her a moment to catch on. "The time traveller?" she asks his name eliciting thinly disguised derision, though not quite as strongly as if he'd mentioned Trump's.

Undeterred by her brewing scorn he pushes on. "Exactly!"

Despite her self-professed scepticism her eyes widen with alarm. "He warned you about President Trump?"

He laughs, he can't help it. But instantly regrets the outburst as she shoots a fire bolt glare his way. He carefully schools his features, before he dares continue. "No. But you said there was nothing we could to about this, but that's not entirely true." He left the statement dangling there for a moment. Carefully watching her, gauging her curiosity, her interest and watching for her reaction to what he is about to propose. "He said that you would become Senator, Kate."

She recoils slightly, and gave him a wide eyed look, but she did not seem entirely horrified by the reminder or the idea itself. Encouraged by this he peruses the idea, "If the system is failing, if people are so disillusioned that they can allow something like this to happen… It'll take time, but perhaps you can help to fix it."

She's quiet. He's pretty sure she's actually seriously thinking about it. "Why don't you go take a shower, it'll help you relax. I'll make dinner and we can talk some more," he suggests. "Chicken parm?"

She nods distractedly, then shakes herself a little. "Yeah, sounds good. Thanks babe." He watches as she meanders through his office and into the bedroom beyond.


Returning from the bathroom, still with wet hair from her shower and looking far more relaxed she comes to find him in the kitchen, propping herself against the end of the breakfast bar. "I'll do it," she says. And with a confirming nod, she reasserts the commitment, "I'll do it for them."

He beams, proud and excited, but he's not quite keeping pace. "Them?" he asks.

"Well if Doyle was right about me becoming a representative in the Senate, then despite my earlier assertions," she rolls her eyes as she continues, "and protestations; this kid is not going to be our only one after all."


A.N. OK so no I'm not American, and I know nothing about the workings of senate, so perhaps I shouldn't dabble. But... this happened because I merely skim read something here a few days ago which advocated Castle and Beckett as supporters of Trump - and by god it disturbed me (as does he!) - I truly and honestly just can't see that possibly being the case. The more I thought about it, the only word that - in my head - I could hear Kate Beckett use (if she were trying super hard to be polite) in regard to The Donald would be 'Jackass'. And therefore, we have inception…