**SPOILERS FOR BAD SANTA**
A/N: My timeline is a little skewed, but it's actually going to work pretty well with the events I've already got in play. Assume that the events of last night's episode, 7x10 Bad Santa, occurred in real time (two days was the timeline give by Kate in regards to the poem-writing), and their conversations and dinners of the previous days worked around those events. Castle's 'New Year's interviews' in the previous chapter were actually tying up his mob investigation.
Therefore, Castle has now been kicked out.
December 9 - Enough to Light the Street
And we've love enough to light the street
'Cause everybody's here.
We got open arms for broken hearts
Like yours my boy, come home again.
-Open Arms, Elbow
It's completely impromptu, but when Ryan reminds her that they're on-call for this weekend and Lanie mentions she bought a sparkly red dress with nowhere to wear it, it just clicks together. What she can do.
But it has to be tonight.
Kate stands in the middle of the break room with her first mug of non-Castle coffee for the day (eleven in the morning and she's proud she's held out so long), struck dumb by the thought.
Why not? He's been cut off, but it doesn't have to be catastrophic.
She tugs her phone out of her back pocket; she went with the plaid shirt today after Castle wore his this weekend, like a reminder of what they were - easy and natural - and the tail of her shirt is caught by her plucking fingers. She has to set the mug down to unlock her phone, calls his daughter without thinking too long and talking herself out of it.
"Kate? Is everything okay?"
"Oh, yes," she hurries. "Your dad's at home. I should have texted but I wanted to be sure I got you. Exams this week?"
"Yes. Brutal."
"Too brutal for dinner tonight? A come and go thing - everyone."
"Come and - go?" There's a commotion on the other end and Kate realizes she might have plucked Alexis out of class, a phone call from her dad's detective wife being, probably, a cause for alarm rather than plans for family.
Shades of summer.
"Alexis? I'll text you details. Eight tonight. Please, for your dad."
"I - have a study session but I'll-" Alexis sounds baffled, hesitant, but they rubbed shoulders in grief this year, side by side, unspoken. "I'll cut out early. Eight. Anything for dad."
Kate lets out a breath, ends the phone call without saying good-bye. She has some work to do now.
This might be a disaster. Castle has been in absolute no mood for this ever since he told her, I can't go in with you.
Their case falls apart; evidence doesn't jive; she scrapes her hair back from her face and huffs at the white board. Castle would say aliens. Castle would say little green men (though, privately, Kate would correct little grey men, to herself, only to herself; some dorkiness isn't spoken aloud inside the 12th) but Castle isn't here.
Nope, it's not a human experiment gone wrong. Though there are disturbing elements that make her stomach churn.
She calls Lanie again for a rundown, has to leave a message, so she tacks the invitation on to the end of it, something to wear your red dress to. Jenny is the one who RSVPs for her family, no baby-sitter if Kate's okay with that?, of course she is, of course, though her heart stutters once in her chest.
Esposito finds her in the warehouse as she's making her second round of interviews, pins her down after she's asked the foreman again, repeatedly, how did you find the body? why were you here on the weekend?
"I'll make it. This catered or-?"
Catered, she thinks faintly. Oh, no. What is she serving?
Espo must see it on her face. "Want me to make something?"
Kate does a doubletake, smooths her face to neutral. "Yes. A vegetable."
"Actually, my granny made this pumpkin stuffing thing-"
Is Javier Esposito actually volunteering to make a complicated side dish? "Yes, that," she says immediately, jumping in with a sudden decision. "Potluck. It's potluck, serve yourself, come and go."
Okay, so now she needs to text everyone all over again and coordinate food. Yikes.
"Wow, you're home early."
She slides her coat off into his waiting arms, lets him hang it up for her in the closet while she unwinds the scarf from her neck, the scarf she pretty much didn't need, but it was so cold this morning.
"Case is dead in the water until I get more from forensics," she grimaces. "But we're last in line."
"Want me to call the mayor for you?"
"I don't think the mayor is a fan," she huffs, flicks his earlobe as he leans in for a kiss. Her words are smudged by his lips. And then - mmm - his tongue. She drops off speaking for a good long moment, his hands wandering, hers curling at the back of his neck.
"You taste like peanut butter," he murmurs at her cheek.
"I do? Oh, peanut sauce for the chicken from-"
"You went to Bothai without me?" he gasps, putting her away from him. His hair is all disheveled from her fingers; he looks sexy. Dinner with friends and family seems like a really terrible idea right now.
"Um. No?" she lies.
"You did," he mourns, bowing his head to her shoulder. "You know I love their curry."
"I'm sharing now, aren't I?" she chuckles, nipping his ear where he's close.
"Kissing better not be sharing food. That's gross."
She laughs a little harder, steps into him for a hug. Just a hug, the warmth of his arms around her, chest to chest. "Just a taste."
"You're cruel."
"You're melodramatic."
"All true."
"I'm cruel is true?"
"Um, let me rephrase that-"
Still hugging. This feels good. She forgot how good this feels, just a hug, an embrace, this man enveloping her. "I missed you today."
"You did not."
"I even suggested alien abduction as a viable theory just to have something of you with me."
"You're lying."
"I'm lying only a little." She smiles over his shoulder.
He releases her then, just like that, hug over by some unspoken communication between them. She heads for the bedroom and to change clothes, he keeps going for the kitchen where he was probably-
"Wait! Castle, hang on." She comes racing back through the office with her shirt halfway off and he lifts an eyebrow from the kitchen sink where he's already gotten vegetables out to wash.
"That hot for me?" he says, smirking. "I knew you couldn't resist, but Beckett, it's-"
"Stuff it," she laughs, sliding the rest of the way out of her shirt. "Don't make food. No dinner."
"We went out last night and you said not twice in a row on a week-"
"Don't make dinner, Castle."
"But those are your rules-"
"What did I say?" she growls, picking up the throw pillow and doing what it was made for. It falls short, bad aim as goose bumps race across her bare arms, and he laughs, ducking even as the pillow never makes it.
"But I'm starving. I was waiting on you, stuck at home all day-"
"No dinner, Richard Castle."
"Am I being sent to my room on top of being grounded from the 12th?"
For a breathless moment, the space between heartbeats, she both finds him completely, frustratingly impossible and also so violently, shamelessly hot that her hands go to her bra and work the clasp.
"Am I being sent to my room?" he yelps. Eager, dropping a bell pepper into the sink.
"Yes, you are." No, no, no. Thirty minutes. They have thirty minutes before she has to really start pulling this together, but oh boy.
Here he comes. Stalking across the room, shirt untucked from his jeans, hasn't shaved all day because he's been writing, writing, they talked about books all night last night after the office party, even in bed when they got home, endlessly comparing lists and themes and what gets you, Kate? what does it for you? and he probably sat at the laptop this afternoon and tried to recreate it in Nikki, what gets her, tried to write for her, and oof-
"Castle," she gasps, laughing as he lifts her up off her feet, arms around her, hauling her backwards. She's going to fall, they won't make it- "Couch, couch-"
"Office couch, I love the sound of your skin against the leather-"
"Oh, hell," she husks, trying to wind her limbs around him so she won't be dropped.
"I'm on to you," he hums, his face at her neck, mouth going down, down, down. Her back hits the side of the shelves, bumping, his apology a muffled sound at her chest. "So on to you."
"On me? Oh yes-"
His chuckle is a thousand tickling sparks of pleasure, her stomach quivering.
"I know what you're doing. Trying to cheer me up. Prove it's not so bad. Everyone's coming to dinner?"
They fall to the couch, graceless, his hand already going for her pants, her hands at his, switching jobs when their eyes meet with laughter.
"Hurry," she murmurs. "Everyone gets here at eight."
"Plenty of time-"
"I have to make the main dish."
He pauses, fingers gripping the waistband of her underwear, that close, so close-
"What's the main dish, Kate?"
"I don't know yet. I don't even know what we have."
"Oh, you are so screwed."
"I am trying to be," she mutters, lifting her hips to remind him.
"It'll take-"
"Castle." She snaps her fingers in his face. "Focus." He's male - why is he distracted so quickly? She's dying for him to-
"Right," he says, eyes tripping down her mostly exposed body. "Oh, I love this pair." Fingers turn gentle, stroking her hip.
"You're killing me here. It's not even your turn."
"Not my turn? This feels like my turn."
"For the nutcracker in the bathroom." Why are they talking so much? He just doesn't shut up. "Castle, put your mouth to better use, would you?"
Oh, that did it. Oh, yes.
"Rick," she whispers, eyes closing.
"Yeah?" His head lifts, eyes wicked.
"No, no," she protests, fingers tugging. "Just - appreciating this beautiful moment. Don't let me stop you, babe. Possibilities for joy, all that."
His chuckle makes her fall apart.
It's like they have a secret.
Electricity zips between them all night, a tether that tugs and sparks whether close or far. She finds her lips turning into a smile when her eyes catch him talking loudly, boisterously, with Jenny and Sarah Grace. The baby girl naturally adores him, her eyes tracking his gestures, enthralled with this man.
Of course, of course.
Kate's heart is crackling with too much energy to twist, too much love to feel overlooked. Either by Castle or by the feckless universe for their twists of fate.
Esposito arrives late but with his promised dish, Lanie is already here and mashing potatoes at the stove. The two of them touch and flirt, hesitation in their glances - there must be more going on, must be plans in their heads they won't yet confirm. Ryan isn't on the outskirts though; he's right up there with them, drink in his hand, a little oblivious to whatever currents pass through the waters.
Currents in her body too, connecting her to Castle, connecting Castle to her. Tugs and pulls, heartstrings, gut checks, her cheeks flaming up bright when Martha makes a comment that isn't even meant to be dirty.
Alexis gets there right as they're sitting down. Everyone stands back up. His daughter waves them off, pours a glass of wine that Lanie takes out of her hands, sips herself, puts it at her own place. Alexis looks flustered for only a moment, Castle says something that makes them all laugh.
Alexis is a junior in college this year; she turned twenty-one when they weren't looking. Castle fills her glass himself and hands it to her, the red wine sloshing, but Kate notices that Alexis barely sips at it.
The table is set, all Martha's stagecraft, last minute elegance. Holly berries and scattered pine needles, plain thin red ribbon on the backs of the chairs. Something pagan about it that stirs Kate's blood, makes her lips close on whatever wants out.
Castle sits at the head, Martha at the foot, Kate at his left hand side, Alexis the right, their friends branching from there. A pictorial last supper, though Castle holds her hand and a whisper of grace goes across the table, maybe it was Ryan and Jenny, maybe it was their collective thankfulness reaching a cumulative sigh of I can't believe we made it here.
Even if all the pieces aren't quite in place, here they are.
His fingers lace through hers and squeeze, she has flashes of what they did on his couch just hours ago; he must as well because his head turns to her and his eyes are blue and clear and knowing.
"Pass the chicken," he says, not at all what she thought he would say, but she has to let go of his hand to do it.
The conversation is wide-ranging: the Stoppard play (something in Castle's face twitches), Alexis's room mate (her face twitches, Castle asks, Charlie really is a girl, right?), Lanie's fake ring (Espo's face doesn't twitch and they all see the nothing), Sarah Grace's latest milestone (no twitches, except the baby to her name, and she beams a beautiful smile that they all relax into).
Sarah Grace is using the high chair that Castle bought for Cosmo; she's a little big for it, but she fits, and they never even used it - the baby was bottle-fed, their night was too long, he wouldn't have been secure anyway.
Castle's knee presses hers under the table. She glances over at him.
This? he seems to be asking.
She opens her mouth - what is she going to say, what words will come out? She doesn't know, and he never finds out either, because Alexis laughs and his attention is drawn to his only daughter as she offers to hold Sarah Grace, the two of them now, and all that expectation and mild curiosity and love is transferred to the young woman holding the baby. That might be Alexis in a few years.
And then to Lanie and Esposito, who are getting looks from Kevin and Jenny and even Martha, but no one is looking at her and Castle for that. No one.
"Kate?"
She turns her head to him, but she's got no answer.
"More chicken?" he asks.
Kate sits up straighter, passes the chicken around for second helpings, allows Castle's natural exuberance to unthread her usual reserve, her personality spooling out into the night with his chuckling, garrulous tugs of affection.
Not this, no. But something that feels a lot like it.
