A/N: Since this is a pretty decently long chapter, I'll keep my comments brief. Thank you all for sticking with me on this ride and letting me explore this post-crazy impromptu wedding universe. I continue to have fun with this story every day.

Where we left off:

She has to try very hard not to squirm at the reminder of his gratitude. Instead, she uses the nervous energy to check her pockets for everything she'll need for the night. She's leaving her gloves in her bike helmet for tomorrow, but she's sure if she needs to keep her hands warm, her husband won't mind lending his pockets or his body heat.

"Uh huh. Come on, let's go. I'll tell you what happened in there on the way home." She tugs on his coat pocket gently, giving her hips a little bit of sway as she moves ahead. "And maybe my next show of gratitude will be kind of like today, only without the tiger."

He doesn't even try to contain the glee as he follows her to the elevator.


She tries so hard to stop it, but the first box he brings out sends her mood plummeting. Even though she's honestly surprised it took him this long to start decorating, she'd been hoping for just a little longer to prepare herself – and maybe him, too – for the season.

Christmas is something she doesn't really do and she hasn't in a long time. Yes, she smiles at the joy small children radiate, and she gives whatever she can to the bell ringers, but even those things don't leave much for herself. The most holiday cheer she musters usually is a scented candle and a nodded "You, too," when people wish her well. And oh, the Christmas tree ornament Castle gave her last year as a gag gift. "A tree for your tree, Beckett. It's tree-ception," he'd said.

Her husband, on the other hand, is a self-professed Christmas maniac. The entire ride home from work, he'd talked about which decorations they should use this year (apparently he rotates between three sets and color schemes to keep things exciting), whether it was too late to get everything like usual, even what they should have for dinner on Christmas Eve. She'd mostly focused on the road, ignoring the knot in her stomach, and murmuring a response when it seemed like her input was wanted.

She usually works Christmas Eve, she has since it was mandatory. Yeah, it's lonely sometimes, but it helps. It makes her feel like she's doing something, helping someone have a happier Christmas than she usually does. It's her tradition, the same way Castle's three styles of decorations are his.

It doesn't mean she doesn't want Christmas with her husband this year, though. It just makes things… complicated. It means explaining, planning, negotiating – which is a lot scarier to think about considering she's not just asking him to compromise on his traditions, but his mother and daughter's as well.

"Okay, what's wrong?" Maybe it's just her imagination, or the fact that she'd gotten lost in quiet contemplation, but his voice practically booms across the living room.

"What?" She curls her hands around her mug, letting the ceramic infuse warmth into her cold fingers. "Nothing, I was just thinking. What'd I miss?"

Castle moves the garland he'd been unboxing from his shoulders, rubbing the no doubt now-itchy spots on his neck. She beckons him closer, tugging his collar aside to see the thin scratches on his skin. Her hand curls around his neck, thumb sliding over one of the marks carefully. Whether it's the touch in general, or the coolness of her hand, it seems to help. He lists back into her, humming contently.

"I asked what your decorations are like and if you want to go get them tonight or tomorrow or sometime."

"Oh, uh… no, not tonight. We don't even have to get them tomorrow."

"You don't want to?" He looks over his shoulder, puzzled.

Impulsively, she steals a kiss, tasting peppermint along with the hot chocolate they've been drinking.

"I don't really have anything, to be honest." It's easier to say it with their heads together and her eyes closed. "I mean, there are things in storage, but…"

"But they were your mom's?" he supplies quietly, twisting to slip an arm around her. It's an awkward position; her knees are in the way, keeping them from getting closer, but his nose brushes hers.

"Yeah," she breathes. "I… she was always so bad about putting decorations away. She'd wait until the sixth of January every year before we'd even turn off the Christmas tree. Everything was still up when she died. My dad and I boxed things up and we haven't looked at any of it since."

"Kate," he murmurs. His hand delves under her sweater, stroking her back gently.

"The uh, the first year after she died, I went shopping and I bought a few things," she clears her throat quickly. "Just to kind of have something, you know?"

He nods, head bumping hers gently. "Yeah, I do."

"Dad wasn't… he was just empty, and I wasn't much better off. I think I threw all of it out on Christmas day and didn't bother trying again."

His mouth opens, but he swallows whatever he'd planned to say, so she continues,

"After I became a cop and I had my own place, I thought about trying to decorate again, but it didn't really matter much. I worked anyway. As a rookie it was always because I didn't have seniority, but then I decided I'd take shifts for others…"

She sighs. "So I don't have decorations, and I usually work on Christmas Eve, too. Just as a heads up."

Castle rubs her back gently.

"So we'll work on Christmas Eve."

"No, no, no. You are not missing your daughter's last Christmas at home for me." She pulls away to get his eyes.

"Well she's coming back, Beckett!" He looks terrified at the thought of the alternative.

"I know, I know, but after high school it isn't the same. Next year she'll want to go out with her friends, and she'll scoff at your corny decorations from when she was five, even though it'll touch her that you still have it all. This year's a good year and I don't want you to miss out on that. Okay?" She squeezes his neck, kissing him softly to ease the sting of her words.

"But it's our first Christmas, too."

"I know. And that makes it harder. All of it. I want her here, I want to share you with her, share this with her, and the fact that I can't …"

Before she can finish the thought, her hot chocolate is being plucked out of her hand and the rest of her drawn into a real embrace.

"The fact that you can't makes you want to do what you usually do even more," he murmurs. It's not a question, not really, but she answers like it is.

"Yeah, that's… the easiest way to describe it."

He nods thoughtfully. "What does your dad do? For Christmas, I mean."

"Goes to the cabin. It's… I think even if it's not as hard to be in the city as it used to be, the routine's what he likes now."

Castle's lips brush her hair. "Like you."

"Yeah, like me. We're a great pair, us Becketts."

"Hey, don't talk about my wife and father-in-law that way. They can't help it if they've never experienced a Castle Christmas before."

She chuffs softly, swiping at her face. If only the damn holidays didn't make her so melancholy, make her want to chase ghosts once more. She needs to talk to Burke, to get his help figuring this shit out.

"But to be serious," Castle continues, stroking her back gently. "If these Becketts of mine like their routines, then that's fine. If they don't, we'll help them start new ones. We love them either way."

"We do, huh? Even when your wife's a basket case?"

"Oh especially then. 'Cause now she lets me in and I know to do this."

She's expecting a kiss, but he surprises her by kicking his foot out and nudging the box closed.

"Castle?"

"We'll hold off on decorating for a few days. Alexis is busy anyway and she should be here to do it, too."

It's sweet, but she can't promise she'll feel differently in a few days. Even if she talks to Burke, there's no guarantee. It wouldn't be fair to get his hopes up.

But looking at his face, she's pretty sure he already knows that. An extra three days won't suddenly turn her into Mrs. Claus, but maybe they will help ease her into it.

"Kay. That sounds like a good idea, waiting for Alexis."

"Yeah I thought so, too. So um, what's the Christmas Eve shift like? Do you take Christmas Day, too?"

"Sometimes, but not always. Sometimes it's a half day, just to give the people with kids a chance to open presents and eat lunch. It all depends on the roster. I usually just try to be open."

He hums into her hair. It's generally noncommittal, but she knows he's trying to think of a way to say what he needs to say without upsetting her.

"I won't volunteer to work Christmas Day this year, okay?" The words trip out of her mouth before she can think too hard about them. "If I'm scheduled, I'm scheduled, but… I won't volunteer. I should know in the next couple days."

His thumb slides over her cheek.

"Working Christmas Eve is… sometimes it's heartbreaking. Having to go to a scene… brings back a lot of memories. But that's why I do it. So I can keep the promises I make to the families."

She exhales.

"Sometimes it's quiet. Lots of time spent in the precinct doing paperwork. Your favorite," she teases, pressing her lips against his chin.

Oh, he's… upset. Not angry, hopefully, but the way his jaw's clenched tells her he's not jumping for joy right now.

"It's… I know it doesn't sound like fun, and it's not. But it's, it's kind of like going to church for me. Some people go to church on Christmas Eve, I go to work."

"It sounds lonely, Kate," he says.

Sad. He's sad for her. His voice has that thick quality it gets when he's trying to keep from tearing up. He's not upset or angry, he's sad.

"It can be," she admits, thumbing his arm.

"I know I didn't know her, but I don't think your mom would've wanted that for you. If … it were Alexis, I wouldn't want that for her. For her to be lonely, I mean."

A year ago she would've bristled and gone on the defensive immediately, letting him know exactly what he knew, even though he would've been exactly right back then, too. Her mom would've told her long ago to stop. To stop doing penance for someone else's sins. To go have Christmas, or something like it, with her dad and now with her husband.

"I know."

Castle nods. "And I'm not telling you not to work, obviously. I wouldn't tell you what to do. I'm not even asking you not to, but I just don't want you to be lonely."

"I know," she repeats softly, pressing her forehead against his neck.


He looks elated when she comes home with a box a few days later. It's not large, nothing truly impressive, but for three straight nights she'd thought about it, even going so far as to email Burke at 4am and find out what he thought about doing this. He'd encouraged the idea, praising her for making the effort in spite of how difficult it is.

So here she is, presenting her husband with a container of her mother's – and really by extension her own – favorite Christmas ornaments. She'd spent over an hour digging in the storage unit, opening over half a dozen boxes and picking and choosing from their contents to settle on these things. Her hair's a mess, thrown hastily into a bun when the ends started tickling cobwebs. Dust smudges cover her cheeks, too, but that is mostly her fault for not wiping her hands before swiping sweat and tears away.

But she did it. Even as painful as it had felt at the time, as much as it hurt to unearth parts of her life, her childhood, she did it.

Because her mom shouldn't be locked away. The good things shouldn't be locked away.

"It's not a lot," she explains quickly, nodding to the box in Castle's hand. "But they're… some of my favorites from when I was little. I know you have wall to wall decorations, and a scheme for every part of the house, but… could we find room for these somewhere?"

She doesn't even get the last of her request out before he's placing the box, grimy as it is, on the couch with the care one would give a newborn and wrapping her up. Her arms band around him tightly and her eyes sting with fresh tears.

Shit, she doesn't want to cry again. It takes everything in her to tamp it down, to push back on the urge to surrender to whatever bittersweet sadness she's feeling. Instead, she tries to focus on breathing, inhaling and exhaling. Breathing him in. He smells like cinnamon apples; he must have been baking while she was gone.

"There's no finding room, Kate, these are home. They'll go wherever you want."

"Thank you."

His lips touch the corner of her mouth. Mhmm, he tastes like cinnamon apples, too. The sneak must've been eating his creation as he made it.

"I made treats, do you want some?"

"I do, but maybe after a bath?" She needs to sink into the water and let it keep her from thinking for a little while.

"Kay. I'll bring you some wine while you get the water going?"

Her hands loosen against his back. "Please."

He nods loosely. God, he makes it so easy for her. "Anything else I can do?"

Trapping her lip between her teeth, she considers his question. She might need a little time to herself now, but maybe not that much time. "I wouldn't be opposed if you'd wash my back in a little bit?"

"Deal," he agrees, cupping the back of her head. "Just yell for me when you want me."

"Thanks," she whispers, ghosting a kiss over his mouth. This afternoon was hard, but he's slowly making it better.

"Maybe we could decorate some after dinner? The four of us? If you're up for it."

"I figured that was the plan."

"My wife's so smart. And beautiful even covered in dust."

That makes her smile, a real smile this time. He's the smart one, the grounding one; she's going to have to work so much harder for either of them to be able to say she's the same for him.

Squeezing him one last time, she pulls away. "I'll be back in a bit."

Later that evening, she decorates for Christmas for the first time in over a decade. As they go through her box, Castle has to know the story of each and every piece she brought over. Even though she starts off shaky, she's able to give him the stories. It helps Alexis, too, she thinks. Hearing the stories and knowing her mother was once a real person instead of just a body in crime scene photos.

After a couple hours of decorating and debating, it's Alexis who suggests they leave everything as is. Apparently there are over a dozen more boxes they could go through, but the girl reasons that everything looks just right the way it is. It's a little bit of Martha, a little bit of herself, a little bit more of Castle, and a little bit of Kate.

"It's the way it should be," Alexis explains, leaning into her father's chest. "We don't need the train sets and the snow machine, Dad. This is good right now. Right, Kate?"

She freezes, mug of cider at her lips. "I, well, I like it. It's cozy." Her eyes cut to Castle in apology for asking him to tamp down on his inner Elf, but he's nothing but tender in return. Ah, so he's milking it for the sake of milking it. Of course.

Alexis smiles. "What about you, Gram?"

Martha backs her up, pinching Castle's cheek teasingly. "Though I love the way you usually decorate, the women of the house are overruling you, kiddo."

Her mother-in-law's hand snakes around her arm, tugging her into the little pod the three of them have made. Martha smiles gently, patting her fingers. "There, darling. Now it's perfect."

Castle's arm winds across his mother's shoulders, stopping when his hand lands on her neck. His wedding ring feels almost cold against her skin, but she doesn't shy away from the touch. Now the four of them are connected. A family.

"Well how can I argue with the women of the house?" He's smiling, though, overruled or not. He's smiling.


They don't talk about her working on Christmas Eve again. She knows he doesn't love the idea, but he's not going to fight her on it. Especially since she isn't scheduled to work the next day and for the first time in years, she hasn't volunteered to be there anyway. Just like she promised.

Her day starts early, too early, with a body drop that they manage to close out within a couple of hours. It's a sad situation; a misunderstanding between two men over their resources, an icy curb, and an accidental shove, all explained in a tearful confession. Her heart hurts a little more as LT leads the man away.

One of the other detectives on rotation catches the next case, giving her time to handle more of her paperwork. She's been trying to cut out at a decent time each night, but it means the mundane things are starting to pile up. It'll be good to clear this stuff before the end of the day. Otherwise, she'll be working late before the end of the calendar year.

Her phone buzzes beside her a few times throughout the day. It's Castle, of course, asking what's happening there. He and Alexis apparently ran into a snag with their dinner preparation and had to run out for more. The picture he sends her of the crowds and his harried (but adorable) face makes her laugh into her hand. He takes his holiday dinners seriously. She'll eat leftovers when she gets home from her shift. They'll still be delicious, even if they're reheated.

She sneaks a picture of her paperwork mountain, asking cheekily if he wants to trade. Gates will be leaving around five; she could sneak him in and let him finish her reports while she scavenges the nearly empty shelves at the grocery store. He seems eager to continue braving the last-minute shoppers instead.

It's not a surprise, of course, but what she wouldn't give for him to show up with a cup of his coffee right now. She won't ask, because she's told him to spend the day with his daughter, but her fingers itch to drink a cup she didn't have to wrestle the machine to make.

Maybe she'll run out for one in a few minutes. After she finishes with this report. It has to be after this report, even if she can already smell the brew.

"Hey, Beckett."

No, she can already smell it because he's somehow, inexplicably, read her mind and brought her coffee. Alexis waves from behind him, shifting some of their grocery bags on her shoulder. The rest of the bags are draped over one of Rick's arms, while his free hand presents her the travel cup.

"We were on our way home and thought you might need this." He gestures carefully, grinning as their fingers brush.

"Thanks," she murmurs gratefully, sipping once. "I did need this. Did you get your shopping done?"

"Three stores later, yes. Finally. And now we are going home to finish this masterpiece."

Disappointment settles heavily in her belly, but she nods. Of course it was only a quick stop. It doesn't mean she wouldn't have liked to see more of him since he barely stirred when she kissed him this morning.

"I'll walk you guys out."

She glances over her shoulder, just to make sure Gates isn't about to come out of her office and complain that she's wasting precious time goofing off. The captain's been doing her own paperwork all day and seems to be engrossed in it still. Good, it buys her a few minutes.

"Do you think you'll catch another case today?" Castle asks, lumbering beside her. Part of her wants to offer to take some of the groceries from him but she'll just have to give them back in a moment so she refrains.

"I don't know. I hope not. I wouldn't mind an excuse not to stare at my reports for the next few hours, but I'm not wishing for a call."

Alexis smiles from beside her dad. "What time do you get off work?"

"Late. I'm covering until just after midnight. So I'll need you to make sure someone," she jerks her thumb in Castle's direction, "is in bed for Santa."

It's code, mostly, for not letting him wait up for her, but it still makes the girl smile again.

"I can do that."

"Good." She rubs Castle's back gently as the elevator doors open. She has a feeling he's going to be exhausted before the end of the day. "Save me some ham if you can."

"Of course we will. And you know if your replacement shows up early for whatever reason…"

"I know, Castle. I will."

She kisses him, eager to use the mistletoe above their heads as an excuse to say goodbye to him properly. "I love you. See you at home," she whispers, only to add, "Thank you for the coffee," a little bit louder.

Pleased isn't a strong enough word for the look on his face. "My pleasure, Detective. Love you, too. And I will see you later."

Someone wolf-whistles as they step apart, causing her cheeks to darken. Cute. Castle just gives a 'what can you do' shrug before stepping onto the elevator.

"I can't help it that I'm irresistible," he calls, earning an eye roll from her for his trouble.

Using his coffee gift as a pick me up, she's able to go back to work without incident. Her report stack shrinks while the completed stack grows, and she barely looks up when Gates breezes out of her office at 5:32, calling a good night to the bullpen. Well, at least now she can slouch in her chair, so to speak.

Six o'clock ticks by without another call coming in and she finds herself drifting toward another detective's murder board just to see if she can offer any help.

It's going to be a long night at this rate. Castle's even stopped responding to her texts. Although, that's probably a good thing. Nobody wants a reenactment of the Gravy Incident of 2008 that Alexis has warned her about; she'll let him cook in peace.

She makes a round or two through the bullpen, stopping to inspect the empty desks. Some are decorated for the holidays; some have just added another family photo or two. Her 'tree-ception' ornament is on her desk, but that's the only change she's allowed in her space. Well, that and the wrappers from the Christmas candy Castle keeps bringing her. Those are festive, kind of.

An hour passes before her phone buzzes in her pocket. The tone's not long enough to be a call, so she has a feeling it's her husband finally texting her back.

"Still no calls?"

A little smile touches her lips. Okay, so maybe she was bored enough to ask him to entertain her earlier. Now she's settling for making laps around the gym, stopping to look out the window at the street below.

"No, just wandering the precinct right now. How's dinner?"

"Smells delicious. Did you eat?"

Her stomach grumbles at the thought. "Not yet," she types, waiting a beat before adding, "will soon."

He's quiet for a few minutes, or at least her phone is, and she's sure he's gone back to finishing dinner. When his next text comes in, it puzzles her.

"Where are you?"

Where is she? At work, where else would she be?

"Went up to the gym to check on things. Why?"

"I think you'll find something interesting downstairs."

Something interesting downstairs? Oh he did not come all this way to bring her more coffee or food. Did he? He better not have, not when he could be at home and warm with Martha and Alexis.

Her phone drops back into her pocket as she takes the stairs down. The bullpen's even emptier than it was before, which is strange, but she doesn't worry just yet. They're probably all in the break room or something.

Wherever they are, something smells good in here.

The laughter hits her ears and it all connects in her brain. That's his mother's laughter. And his.

Her eyes dart to the conference room where the commotion seems to be originating. Her feet take her there before his next text comes in.

"Conference room, Beckett."

And then there he is, greeting her in the doorway, looking warm and soft (and hot) in deep green plaid.

"Now, I know you said I couldn't come to work with you, but I don't remember you saying anything about not bringing dinner to you. Come have Christmas Dinner, Kate."

"I- what?" She gawks, looking past him for a second before meeting his eyes again.

He grins, palm settling warmly in the center of her back to guide her inside. Sure enough, the conference room table is covered in food. Ham, a small turkey, mashed potatoes, half a dozen other sides. Some of the uniforms and her fellow detectives are already filling their plates, eagerly chattering about the home away from home meal. Alexis and Martha grin at her from the other end of the room, looking pleased with themselves for pulling this off.

None of that's the kicker, though. The kicker is standing beside Martha, following the action with a gentle smile that only grows when he sees her reaction.

Her dad.

"Dad?"

He meets her in the center of the room, wrapping her up in a tight hug. Now that they're closer she can see traces of sadness, of how bittersweet all of this feels, but he's here, not at the cabin like usual. He's working through it the same way she is.

"Rick called me and he said that he was planning to bring family dinner to you today and he'd like me to be here."

Castle's smiling at her when she looks to him. It's not the obnoxious, completely pleased with himself smile that he used to give her, it's this open, sweet, beautiful thing and it makes her belly flutter.

"I would've understood if you hadn't wanted to come, though, Dad."

Her father smiles softly, tucking her into another hug. "I know you would've, Katie, but I thought about it, and maybe this is a good time to do something new. Start a new tradition or two. Then maybe it'll be easier by the time my grandchildren come along."

"Dad," she whines, pushing at his shoulder lightly.

"I'm kidding, I'm kidding."

And he is, mostly. She can tell.

"Now, come on, Rick wouldn't stop bragging about his ham the entire way up."

She laughs softly, stepping beside her husband. It's only the fact that they're in the middle of her workplace that keeps her from bear hugging him right now. "Is there anything Castle doesn't brag about?"

"Hey," he hums teasingly. "I have plenty of talents I'm perfectly capable of keeping hidden and not bragging about."

Her eyebrow lifts. "You sure? Sounds like a boast to me."

"Nope, just a casual observance of one of my many fantastic qualities."

Involuntarily, her hand skims across his back to grip the shirt she has no doubt she'll be donning as soon as she gets home. She tries not to touch him much in the precinct, but she can't help herself today. Nobody here's going to judge her.

"Well, you do have a few of those," she admits, stepping close enough to kiss his cheek. "Thank you."

"For what?" He grins at one of the other detectives in the room, handing them a heaping serving of sweet potatoes before looking at her.

"This. My dad. Moving your family dinner here for me even though the only concession I could make is not working tomorrow."

He shakes his head. "You're celebrating, aren't you?"

"Well yeah, but –"

"Then you've caved enough. But, if you're feeling so inclined when you get home, we're doing midnight-ish presents. And I think I've been so good, I deserve to finally know what's in that huge box you curse about every morning when you try to get to your shoes." His lips lift mischievously. "Just, you know; a suggestion."

"Oh I'll keep that in mind." Okay, green shirt and midnight presents. She can do that.

Her lips slide over his. "Now, can I have some dinner?"