December 10 - I don't care about material things

Castle shows up with her coffee sometime around nine, looking entirely too chipper for her mood.

Kate sips her third cup of caffeine for the day (the first from him, she can't help thinking), but she's glad they got the tree lit, got a healthy dent made in decorating for Christmas. He texted his daughter and Alexis showed up halfway into the night, and then Martha got home from a place that shall remain nameless and it was a big family thing. She didn't expect it, but she should have. She should have thought of inviting his family to decorate the loft. Of course.

So it's possible her mood has something to do with that. How damn self-absorbed is she?

Decorating took an inordinate amount of time, and she's paying for the late hour, but it was so. . .nice. It was soothing, at first, the two of them, and then when his daughter and mother showed up, it was like being with family again. Maybe not her own family, but that's probably a good thing.

"Hey, I can't stay long," he says with a wince. "I forgot a meeting I rescheduled."

She waves him off. "Go. You brought me coffee - your contractual obligations have been fulfilled."

He grins wolfishly at her and leans in close, tries to whisper something no doubt dirty and/or lewd, but she pushes him away.

"Go to your meeting." But she smiles at him to soften the blow.

Castle has taken image captures of his photo clues, and he manipulates them on his iphone while stuck in a boring meeting. He tried texting Kate for relief, but she nixed that pretty quick.

She's given him six images so far, and really, all he's gotten from it is an overwhelming sense of. . .weather-beaten wood. A need to paint. Is her father's cabin that bad off? Last year it looked pretty good, but he's not a handyman.

He texts her again with a whiny what is it, Beckett, please, one tiny tiny clue? and he gets her answer back nearly immediately:

Haven't you been listening?

Listening.

Whoa, wait, wait. The songs are clues too?

Beckett growls as she ends the phone call; she barely kept from biting the woman's head off. She hates red tape; she really can't handle more obstacles right now. She needs this to go smoothly. She's got fifteen days - no, less than that, because it's not like they'll be open for Christmas.

She shoves her phone into her pocket, ignoring the seven missed messages and three missed phone calls. They're all from Castle anyway, and she needs a glass of wine and a bath before she does anything else. Just so she won't say something mean.

It's been one of those days.

Doesn't help that last night's Christmas decorating has watered that seed of doubt. She really is self-absorbed; she's thirty-three years old and used to living alone and cracking open her world to include one person is hard enough, let alone his whole family. And their traditions, and their expectations, and-

Is she crazy?

No, it's just - stupid. It's stupid, and if she can chill out for a few hours and do nothing and not exist, wine and a book and a bath, then it will be okay. The world will right itself.

Kate slips her hand inside her bag, searching for her keys, chips her fingernail on her wallet and winces when the zipper snags her skin. Hissing, Kate dumps her coat and bag on the floor outside her apartment, crouches down to dig through her junk-

Her door opens and she startles back, falling on her ass. Castle leans over to haul her up, chuckling at her, and her feet tangle together.

"Jeez, Castle. What are you doing here?"

His brows knit together and she sees the flash of hurt, grips her bag to keep from shoving him out of her face, because really. Really. Get over it, Castle.

So she wants one stinking night to just-

"I thought we. . .I was just looking at those photos and-"

"Give me a couple hours before you hang all over me, okay?" she sighs, rubbing the heel of her hand into eye and heading for her bedroom.

"Kate?"

"Give me. An hour," she growls, dumping everything on the floor and stripping off her shirt.

She can practically feel his gaze on her and she turns around, narrows her eyes at the soporific arousal glazing over his face.

Don't touch me.

It almost comes out of her mouth. Almost. She has to get out of here.

Kate escapes to the bathroom.

She steps into the shower, lets the heat and the pounding water dissolve her ire.

He drives her crazy. Seriously crazy. She just needs five seconds alone. Alone. Forhis own sake, she needs a second.

And then she hears his voice bursting through the door. "Hey, Kate, is this-"

"I just want a shower first, Castle," she yells back, pressing her wet hand to her forehead, something thready and weak in her voice she absolutely hates. The water runs down into her eyes and she leans a shoulder against the tile, shivering at the air coming in under the curtain. "Shut the door when you leave."

"Fine."

"Fine."

He shuts the door a little too hard and she doesn't even care; she wanted a bath and she's compromising with a shower, and isn't that enough for him? Kate tilts her head back and lets the water soak her hair, making it heavy.

She breathes out in a huff, some of her irritation evaporating in the heat. She swipes at her eyes with damp fingers, promises herself to do something about him when she gets out.

For now, she needs the roar of water, and the numb nothing of scalded skin.

Kate wraps her hair into a bun and slides on yoga pants and a tshirt; she couldn't feel less sexy or more ridiculous for her childishness.

Castle has been good - or smart, really - and left her alone. She scrubs at her flushed face and checks her messages again. The woman hasn't called her back to let her know about the paperwork, but it's okay. It's okay. It will work out.

And if it doesn't, then maybe it's a sign from Castle's universe.

When she opens her bedroom door, the apartment is quiet, a little warmer than she usually leaves it. She steps softly across the wooden floors and sighs when she sees him stretched out on her couch, asleep.

How are they going to do this in the future? Just. . .go to their separate corners and wait out the frustration? Does that work in the real world? She has no idea. In the past when they've fought, it was big. Slamming doors and I quit, and kicking each other out. That doesn't work for either of them, and these aren't even real fights. So she's got no clue how to do this, but here they are.

Kate steps around the couch and perches on the edge of the cushion near his hip, using an arm for balance and stroking her fingertips across his forehead. His eyes slip open, a few soft blinks before he smiles.

Slow, a little sleepy, warm.

All is forgiven. She doesn't even need to say anything.

She shakes her head at him. "You shouldn't let me get away with it that easy," she murmurs.

He shrugs, slides his hand from his stomach to squeeze her knee. "I'm okay. I can take it."

"I'm sorry for jumping down your throat, Castle."

He gives her a crooked grin. "I might've enjoyed you jumping down my throat. What you did was freeze me out," he laughs.

She nods, takes in a long breath. At least he can laugh about it. She'll get there.

"But I get it, Kate. Alone time. A chance to decompress. I probably should've left-"

"No," she says quickly, curling her hand at his jaw. "No, I didn't want you to leave. Gotta figure out a better way of asking for it, huh?"

He's still smirking, and he props his head up with his knuckles, skates his other hand up her leg. "And I'll try not to take it so personally."

Kate leans in and presses a kiss to his smile, rubs her thumb over his lips as she pulls back. He's a good man. And he tries for her.

It will all work out.