Disclaimer: Donner and Blitzen say yes. But Prancer and Dancer may need some persuading. Ordering up some organic carrots.
Santa Baby
Chapter 10: I'll Make Mincemeat Out Of You
A/N: This chapter picks up following the first section of Chapter 4, after the candle discussion with the boys, when they leave the Precinct on Christmas Eve. Assume Kate survived being dragged around Whole Foods Market by Castle with his long grocery list. They're now back at the loft, where she's been living since Saturday Dec 22nd.
Monday December 24th – Early evening
"Castle, step away from the flour dredger, if you know what's good for you," warns Kate, putting her hand against his chest to hold him at arms length, away from her.
It's Christmas Eve, and they have a date to make her mom's mince pies together, and her childish, Christmas-obsessed boyfriend is high as a kite and ten times as mischievous.
"But you're armed with a rolling pin," he complains. "Hardly a fair fight, Beckett."
"I'm making pastry, Castle. Not about to indulge in hand-to-hand combat. Now, do you want to help me or not?"
He slides in behind her, pinning her between his body and the counter, hands braced either side of her waist on top of the cool marble surface.
"Your countertop is perfect for rolling out pastry. But you, on the other hand, might just ruin the effect by warming things up a little too much."
"Is that your way of telling me I'm hot, Beckett?" he leers, leaning down to suck lightly on her neck.
"I'd like to hear less Beckett and more Kate, and see less Castle and more Rick, if you don't mind?" she requests, squirming beneath him, and then digging an elbow into his stomach to get him to back off.
"What's the difference?" he asks, curious to hear her distinction, his flour coated fingertips massaging the bones of her hips while he unconsciously moves against her rear.
"Oh god. Right, step away! I can't think when you're this close. And we're supposed to be making my mom's recipe. What you're doing to me right now is a little less than holy, Castle."
"And…we're back to Castle," he sighs.
"Yes, Castle – the bad boy, the…the guy who drives me insane with his silly jokes and his…"
"Wandering hands?" he offers, trying to help her out.
"Yes. And…wandering other things. I want Rick," she whines, turning round to face him. "This is important to me. Sharing our traditions, remember?"
"I'm sorry. I'll be good. Good Rick, I promise," he nods, back to being the obedient little boy she knows he can be, instead of the nine year old hopped up on candy canes like he has been since they got home from work today.
He's wearing a novelty Christmas apron over his jeans and a dark blue and red plaid shirt. It has a cheerful, cheeky little gingerbread man printed on the front, complete with bow tie and white buttons, and the words, 'Bite Me' scrawled jaggedly below his little brown feet, serial killer style.
"Do you think Gates saw us leaving together?" he asks, leaning one elbow on the counter to watch her remove the ball of pastry dough from the glass bowl.
"We leave together a lot. So what if she did? There's nothing unusual about that."
"Yes. But you don't usually hold my hand when we get into the elevator."
"I was not holding your hand," she scoffs, giving him a puzzled frown.
"Were too."
"Was not."
"Kate," he sighs, running a soothing hand down her back, because he can see she's taking her mind back to the point they said goodbye to the guys this afternoon, and then headed for the elevator together…and in three, two…
"Oh crap! I held your hand, didn't I?"
"Yes. And it was sweet, and I loved it. You were excited to be going home."
"But what if she saw us, Castle?" wails Kate.
"It's Christmas. She'd already downed a half a box of liqueur filled candies. I'm sure we can…I don't know, fudge it somehow."
"Fudge it? Like how? Oh Captain Gates," she says, mimicking Castle's deep voice, "Beckett was just so overcome with the spirit of the season that she held my hand all the way down to the parking garage?"
"Yeah, I'm not liking Beckett so much either. Can I have Kate back please?"
Kate glares at him for all of five seconds before his adorably cute smile breaks her, and she grins back.
"I can't believe I was so…so stupid."
"You weren't stupid. It was romantic. Our first Christmas together, going grocery shopping. You were just excited."
"For the vegan candles, yeah, don't remind me. And that snotty woman ahead of us with the organic peanut butter and banana treats for her dog!"
"I know. We should totally get a dog, right?" he says eagerly, like this is the best suggestion he's had in a long while.
"That's…uh…that's what you're taking from what I just said? We need to get a dog? Are you insane?"
"What's wrong with getting a dog?"
"Oh, nothing…in theory. Dogs are great. But, Castle, we don't even…" she sighs, not really wanting to get into this with him right now, because she knows what his answer will be.
"We don't what? You were great with Royal," he protests.
"That was a temporary, timeshare dog. Not a full time, needs to be walked and fed and groomed everyday kind of a dog."
"I would take care of all of that."
"Why do I feel like I'm speaking to a child when I talk to you about stuff like this? You would get bored of taking care of another…animal. One cold, wet, dark winter's morning, when our dog needed walking, and you'd be too cosy to get out of bed, and guess who..."
"Hey, I looked after Alexis for seventeen years," he points out.
"Mmm, and she probably potty trained herself. And she definitely didn't need taken outside at six o'clock on a cold winter's morning to do her business."
"I think you're being unfair."
"Okay, so maybe I am…a little. But, as I said, we don't even live together, Castle, so sharing a dog…impractical," she says, shaking her head, determined to close the whole subject down. "Now, hand me that flour dredger."
"You know there is a way we could remedy that."
"I'm not walking your dog, Castle."
"Our dog, Kate. And that's not what I meant. I meant, you could move in with me. Permanently."
"Rick…" she groans, pushing the heel of her floury hand against the knot that's forming between her eyes.
"At least we're back to Rick. That's progress. Just…say you'll think about it at least?"
"I'm only getting my head around our Christmas tree. Now you want our dog and our apartment?"
"To much?"
"Yes, too much. You know me better than to push. Just…let's enjoy what we have now. For five minutes, please? Before we go making any radical life changes. I'm not saying no. I'm just saying…let me catch my breath, okay?" she says gently, touching a dusty finger to his jaw, leaving an imprint on his scruff, as she tenderly kisses the side of his mouth.
"I guess I can do that."
"Good. I appreciate it. Now, help me make this mincemeat?"
Kate sets Castle the task of coring and chopping the apples, figuring it'll keep his hands busy, while she weighs out a mix of raisins, golden sultanas and currants.
"My mom added preserved ginger to the candied peel. Gives it a spicier flavor, and muscovado sugar to make it richer than regular brown sugar."
"Smells amazing already. What's next?"
"Can you zest and juice one orange and one lemon for me?"
"Is that what the blood orange was for?"
"Yes, it's…I think I put it in the fruit bowl over there. We don't want it chilled."
Kate chops almonds and weighs out dried cranberries, while Castle deals with the citrus fruit. Then she slices open a vanilla pod and scrapes out the seeds.
"Another of my mom's little extras," she tells him, tapping the tiny black seeds into the bowl from the point of her paring knife.
"And you did this with her every year on Christmas Eve? Made these mince pies to take to your grandmother's on Christmas Day?"
"Yes, every year. And when my nana died, we just carried on making them. We gave some to the elderly woman who lived downstairs, and my mom would take a box into her office to share with her team."
She smiles to herself at the happy memory.
"We would chat about this and that while we worked. When I got older, she would talk to me about a case she was working or some office gossip, and I would tell her about a boy I was interested in or a fight I'd had with my best friend."
"Sounds interesting," grins Castle, with a raised eyebrow, wishing he could have been a fly on the wall for those discussions. "Well, I hope I make an okay substitute."
"More than," agrees Kate, smiling back, feeling so grateful to have him here, resurrecting this tradition with her.
"Watch fingers," warns Kate, wincing when Castle gets a little gung-ho with the zester.
"Kate," he says gently, straightening up and pausing what he's doing. "I have used a lemon zester before."
"I know. I'm sorry. I'll stop hovering. I just…I haven't done this with anyone before."
"Make mince pies?"
"Make anything. It's new, so…give me a little latitude to over-supervise?"
"You mean control?"
"Shut up. I do not control."
"Says the woman who won't let me get out of the car to help execute a warrant."
"That's different, and you know it."
"Right, but I'm peeling the rind off a lemon right now, and you're still telling me what to do. Control freak," he sings lightly in Kate's ear.
"You weren't saying that when I cuffed you to the bed last night," she counters, grinning, when a wicked smile breaks across his face.
"That's different, and you know it," he chokes, skidding the zester by accident, narrowly missing taking a chunk out of his index finger.
They work in silence for a few minutes. Kate adds cinnamon, ground ginger, mixed spice, and then some freshly grated nutmeg to the mixture, combining all of the ingredients together in the bowl with the shredded suet.
"Where did you find this stuff?" asks Castle, lifting up the Atora packaging to inspect it.
"British store on Hudson, Myers of Keswick. My mom went there every year to buy brandy butter and the suet for our mince pies."
"Did you go with her?"
"Sometimes. More when I was little. I thought I had better things to do by the time I was in high school. Amazing the decisions you live to regret," she says, somewhat wistfully.
"Mmm, isn't it," says Castle smugly, nudging her shoulder.
"What?"
"Like getting a dog, or moving in with your ruggedly handsome boyfriend or…or waiting four years to tell someone how you feel about them?"
Kate can feel her cheeks heating up.
"We have to put this in the oven to cook for three hours," she tells him, tearing off a length of aluminum foil to cover the ovenproof bowl, avoiding, avoiding, avoiding.
"Eh, I think you forgot the essential ingredient?" says Castle, enjoying how flustered he's managed to make her. "Sherry?" he says, holding up a bottle he just pulled out of the cabinet.
"My dad," says Kate quietly. "I know it's been a long time since he fell off the wagon. But…"
"Hey, say no more. That was thoughtless of me," he tells her, pressing a quick, smacking kiss to the top of her head. "Sorry. Let's get this in the oven," he says, handing her a pair of Santa Claus oven mitts, and then we can get ready for our snack party and a Christmas movie marathon.
A/N: We got our first snowfall overnight, so I'm beginning to feel Christmassy. Enjoy Secret Santa tonight guys...or tomorrow if you're not in the US. Liv