As Detective Kate Beckett stepped through Castle's doorway, she felt her body swell with childlike excitement. Her eyes grew wide and sparkled as she looked around the loft. Castle watched her adoringly.
Paper snowflakes floated below the ceiling and covered the windows. White Christmas lights were wrapped around the room's columns. A large, picturesque Christmas tree stood in the corner near the piano, packages piled underneath. All the room's surfaces were bedazzled by one object or another positioned perfectly to catch the light and sparkle beautifully. The projector was set up, and a pile of warm-looking blankets and pillows were in front of it.
"Wow," breathed Beckett, eyes still wide and sparkling.
The room truly was breathtaking, even Castle had to agree with that. He'd made sure of it. He'd wanted it perfect for her. She hadn't noticed yet—but she would soon—that each snowflake was different, that each object he set out reminded him of her. Maybe she wouldn't notice the last part. It could be his heart's little secret.
It was Beckett's turn to watch Castle as he looked around the room. His face was etched with love; his eyes reflecting the room's light perfectly.
"Castle, it's beautiful." The words flowed softly and gently from her lips.
He was no longer focusing on the room. His focus was only on her.