A/N: So I know I promised this would be up Friday, but I managed to get a job and that was my first day at work. The orientation left me passing out almost as soon as I got home. It was seriously the most boring orientation I've ever been through, I had to watch 12 videos by myself in a little room while filling out paperwork. Pretty sure I almost fell asleep at least 13 times.
"Wes, honey, no. You have to sit." It's the third time she's said it, the second time she's grabbed the back of his jeans to keep him from sliding down on his stomach.
He's becoming a daredevil. It's bad enough that he climbs on everything but this makes her worry even more. She's standing right next to him, helping him on the smallest slide at the park, he wants to be like the big kids. He wants to be independent, doesn't want her to slide with him or even hold his hand and each time he pulls away and slips down to meet the dirt at the bottom, her heart freezes in her chest.
She just wants to hang on, make sure he doesn't topple over but he's giggling and already toddling back around to the steps. She helps with those, doesn't care that he tries to shrug away or frowns the whole time. Stubborn like his father. She knows that's where he gets it from.
She gives a quick glance at the man in question as their son tries once again to go belly first. With her hand shooting out to wrap around Cub's ankle, she smiles at her husband, watches him push their girls on the swing for a few seconds, listens to Charlie's squeals and Ella's giggling. And then she's turning back to their little troublemaker, lifting him by his hips and making sure he's seated on his rear before she lets him go.
"I'm serious little guy." She shouldn't find it amusing when he pouts but she does. The way his brow furrows and he looks just like another Castle boy she knows. "Butt parked or we're done sliding."
"No."
"Cub." She grabs him before he can push himself up.
"No."
"Weston." She waits, lets him say 'no' once more and then she lifts him into her arms determined not to lose an argument with a toddler. A very headstrong toddler with soulful eyes and lips made for pouting. He really is a perfect mix of them and it makes it hard for her to pull him away from the slide that she knows he loves. When the heartbreak fills his eyes and he starts to squirm, she feels herself melting.
"Momma" Just his whisper and she's sighing, knows that he just won for the moment.
"Two more times and then we're going to swing, okay?"
It doesn't appease him a bit, the words not really doing much but when she sits him back up at the top of the small slide, he giggles at her. A cheeky smile on his face, obviously proud of himself.
And he's shoving at her hands, pushing them away as he slips down the plastic of the slide, laughing and kicking his legs when he reaches the bottom. Her little boy with the sun shining on his skin and the wind ruffling his hair as he hops down, tries to avoid holding her hand. She grabs his wrist gently instead, stepping after him as his little legs try to hurry.
She keeps a hand hovering over his back as he scrambles up to the top of the slide, his shoes slipping on the last step and her ability to breathe ceases the moment she grabs him. A moment too late as his chin hits the rail and she hears the first scream. A wail that has other kids turning to look and her mom instincts pulling him into her chest, abandoning the slide that she no longer wants to let him near.
Cradling him, panicking as she runs her eyes over every inch of him, her vision blurring at the bright red smudging his baby soft skin. Her chest aching and a lump forming as she swipes her thumb over it, wanting to see how badly he's hurt. But he's crying, pulling away from her touch and trying to burrow into her chest all at the same time.
"Easy baby, let me see." Her voice cracks and he wails louder. His little hands tightening in her shirt, and she doesn't stop him when he rubs his face into her shoulder. She doesn't care about the blood he'll smear there, all she cares about is the fact that he's bleeding. Her tiny little boy is bleeding.
She walks quickly, holding him in place, rubbing over his back as she meets Castle halfway. His arms full with their daughters and fatherly worry etched into each line of his face.
"What happened?"
"He - he fell and hit...he's bleeding and he won't let me look, Castle I -" She can feel the tears soaking her shoulder, can feel her own threatening.
"Hey buddy," There's a slight waver to his voice that has her eyes closing the moment she hears it. The cries quieting just in time for Charlie's to start and Kate opens her eyes to watch her daughters.
It's his sister crying that has him turning around and Kate can already see a bruise forming on his chin, the bleeding light and coming from a busted lip. Tears still sliding down his cheeks and she feels her own spill over. She was right there, he shouldn't have fallen.
She whispers an apology as she kisses his head, her eyes locking with Castle's. There's no blame, she knows that but her chest is still aching and she isn't sure she's managed to breathe yet. It tears her apart, the fact that her son is hurting and she doesn't know how she's supposed to go through this each time he falls or scrapes his knee.
"I think we should just go home. The girls are getting cranky." Charlotte's grumpy cry is a soundtrack to her writer's words and all she can do is nod. Home sounds good.
In his arms sounds even better but she has Wes leaning on her shoulder and Castle has the girls taking up the space she wants to bury herself in.
The day lost its appeal and both her and Castle spend the rest of it fussing over their son. Kate making his favorite food for lunch and coaxing him to eat it as he touched his swollen lip. Castle letting him pick movies only to walk away and play with his toys, not even paying any attention to the fish swimming around on the screen.
And now, with their daughters sleeping in the playpen that she moved into her bedroom and a sleepy little boy stretched out on the mattress next to her, it finally feels like she can breathe again.
The air filling her lungs as she strokes her fingers through his hair, watching his eyes droop. It always puts him to sleep when she rubs her thumb over his temple in little circles. Eases him, makes him close his eyes and she studies his face. The slope of his nose and the roundness of his cheeks. The eyelashes forming shadows on his skin and when she pulls him closer, she lets her gaze settle on the reddish purple bruise that's bloomed over his chin.
"He's okay." The words are soft, the body sinking down behind hers warm and she pushes back against the solidity of Castle's chest. "You cried more than he did."
"Did not." But she did. All the way home while he was giggling at his sisters, she'd been wiping at her cheeks.
"When I heard him scream -" It's the tone that has her turning on her back, staring up at his face as their son snuggles against one side. Something in his voice, in his eyes, just as terrified as she'd felt. And it knocks the air from her lungs all over again.
She hadn't thought of that. How it felt to not be right there when it happened, to not know.
"I knew it was him and I could see you holding on, trying to get him to calm down and I knew you were both scared. I was scared. I couldn't get the girls out of that swing fast enough." If it were possible to love him even more, she would.
"I kept getting onto him because he wanted to slide down on his belly, I was so worried about it and he didn't want my help with any of it. Climbing or sliding. So I gave him the independence and just stood really close. I thought it was okay, I kept my hand right over his back -"
"It isn't your fault Kate, kids get hurt. They fall, they scrape knees, and bump their heads and you already know that. How many times has Cub bruised his legs trying to climb things?"
"At least a hundred." And his sisters were now trying to follow in his footsteps. Crawling after him everywhere and she shudders at just the thought of three mobile crazy children.
"We have some very strong willed kids."
"Stubborn is more like it." She's smiling as she says it, accepting the kiss he presses to her temple with a hum.
"Just look at their mother."
She gives a glare that they both know isn't serious and nudges his shoulder with her cheek, nuzzling against him before raising up to rest her mouth against his. Soft and reassuring. They're okay. Wes is okay and after a pretty big scare for everyone, this is exactly what they need.
A nap together as a family.
"As much as I love this, I was thinking you should crawl in on the other side and we'll put the girls between us or were you writing?"
"Or we can stay like this for a moment." And as much as she'd like to argue, she can't. Because she needs this too. "And I was writing."
She needs him, the warmth he radiates and the blue of his eyes. She rolls into him, feels their son at her back as his father pulls her close. It's what she's been needing and she can feel as the tension leaves his shoulders that he needs it too. With her face pressing into his chest and his hand soothing down her spine, she gives them their moment.
Because she knows in less than five minutes, he'll let her go and she'll turn back to keep vigil over their sleeping boy and the girls next to the bed as Castle leaves to write for awhile. Maybe an hour, that's all she gives him before he'll be crawling back into bed with their girls awake and babbling.
Sundays have always been their family day, a day to spend together at the park. Swings and slides and now it's going to take her a few visits to erase the image of Wes slipping and almost falling. He may be an independent little boy but she's not letting go of his hand when he wants to slide anymore. Never again.
Her lips rest against his forehead, her hand mindlessly sweeping his hair back as he sighs in his sleep, his fingers curling in the blanket and she sees so much of herself in him sometimes that it terrifies her. So no, he'll never slide or climb up it without holding her hand.
Well...maybe when he's ten.
a/n: A little Cub centric to make someone's day brighter.