December 19 - Winter is coming

"What?" he says a little defensively as he comes out of his closet.

Her lips quirk upwards and she shakes her head in silence. He waits but she only draws her fingers through his tie and tugs him towards her. Castle goes willingly, pressing a kiss against her mouth and then again, again, until he hears that hum of pleasure and feels the smile.

"Figured we could use a better day," he murmurs. She smooths his tie down - yesterday's gift in his advent calendar - and her finger taps against one of the words scrawled over the white background.

"You know it's your novel?" she says softly, lifting an eyebrow at him. "All over your tie. I had it made."

He nods, his own mouth flirting with a smile, that same tightness in his chest when he pulled it out yesterday and realized.

"This your favorite passage?" he smirks, trying to lighten the mood. If he didn't, he might wrap his arms around her and never let go. Or at least make them considerably late for her job.

"I don't know about favorite."

From the third book, the passage from the Victoria St. Clair novel that Nikki reads to Rook. "Kinda meta, isn't it?" he asks, lifting a hand to capture her hip, his thumb traveling up the smooth rise of skin.

"A dashing rogue offers to ride along?" she gives back. "Seemed appropriate."

Mm, that's what she's getting at? He kisses her again for that, a soft draw of her lips and then a measuring touch of his tongue to hers. When he pulls back, he sees that satisfied tilt to her open mouth, a shiver of pleasure that makes her eyes look sleepy. And sexy as hell.

"Go-" she says, shaking her head and pushing him back with two fingers. "Don't start that this morning. Work is going to be busy."

He leaves her in the bedroom to finish getting dressed, heading for his kitchen and coffee.

"And open advent," she calls out.

Oh, yes, Advent. Already, he can tell this will be a better day.

Kate watches him in the car as they're stopped at a red light, his fingers tapping against his knee.

"Should've switched the days, huh?"

He glances over at her in surprise, a flickering smile that interrupts the grey day. "Could've used a shot glass last night, yeah. Did you-?"

She shakes her head. "I came straight to your place. Crawled into bed."

"Yesterday was a drinking day, that's for sure," he murmurs.

She nods and presses her foot to the gas slowly, waiting on the pedestrians to cross before she can turn. Today's gift - the House of Stark shot glass from Game of Thrones - got a dry chuckle from him and a sweep of his mouth down her neck, like he was tasting her for salt. Then he had to christen it with a quick whiskey before they left.

"You know, I'd like a direwolf," he muses into the quiet of her car. "Wouldn't that be cool?"

"Or something." Besides the fact that they only exist in the Game of Thrones universe.

"Hey, it would be great," he defends.

"In New York?"

"My place, no problem. It's big enough."

She grins to herself and has to press her lips together to hide it. Uh-huh. His place.

"What happened to co-parenting?" she says. "Joint custody."

He grunts and she can feel his eyes on her, practically see his surprise. He recovers quickly enough.

"Right, right. Equal time at both our places. Sure. Um. Your apartment is. . ."

"A little cramped for a direwolf," she smirks.

"But cozy, right? All of us with the cute, fluffy direwolf."

"Hair all over the place," she adds. "And what do you name a city-bound direwolf, huh?"

"Uh. . ."

"Why don't you think on that and get back to me before you go fantasizing about your direwolf-buddy."

Esposito flicks at Castle's tie with a raised eyebrow. "You got something on your tie, bro."

He presses it against his chest and narrows his eyes at Espo. "I like it. Kate gave it to me."

"Kate?"

"Beckett," he quickly corrects, swallowing hard.

Esposito works his jaw as he moves around Castle for the coffee. "Uh-huh."

He glances around but Kate's at her desk; he's in the clear. He finishes up her coffee and heads out for the bullpen, meets Kate right when she stands to write on the board. He snags her by the hand, takes the marker away to wrap her fingers around the mug.

"Thanks," she murmurs, taking a sip even as she frowns. "Can you put this on the board?"

She hands him the report and he scans it quickly, then pops the top off the black marker and adds in the details.

"Boys giving you a hard time about the tie?" she says.

He turns and she's smirking at him. "Not at all," he lies. "Not one bit."

"Sure, Castle."

"I think we've found the woman he was getting coffee for," Ryan says, hustling into the bullpen with a photo. "Camera down on Lex the night before."

Kate stands and takes it from him, studying the woman in the picture. Nice dress, laughing, her hand on their victim's chest, his arm around her waist. She looks young, happy.

She sees Ryan shooting Castle a strange look, then Castle reaches up and smooths his tie. She hides her smile behind the photo then hands it over to let him look as well. He sighs at the photo.

"Dos Coffees Man," he trails off, sounding. . .sad. His hand is still fiddling with his tie.

"Castle," Ryan says suddenly. "You - uh - getting choked up?"

She has to bite her bottom lip to keep from laughing, moves instead to grab her coat. "Let's go find our second coffee woman."

Castle is scratching at his neck, fingers loosening his tie as she floors the gas, just makes the light.

"You okay there?"

He immediately drops his hand.

"Here we are," she murmurs as she pulls in behind Espo and Ryan.

Rebecca Miller is only a few years older than Kate, and her apartment is tastefully decorated if a little bland. She invites them inside and gestures to the couch, her hands nervous. She has to know it's bad news.

Castle takes a seat next to Beckett.

"Oh, nice tie," the woman says, her eyes a little blank.

Castle glances down at himself in surprise, sees Kate's repressed smirk out of the corner of his eye before she's back to business.

"Ms. Miller," Beckett starts, bringing up the photo of their victim. "Do you know this man?"

"Oh, no. Oh, no, what's happened to him?"

"A secret affair," he murmurs.

Kate glances up from the murder board where she's adding in Rebecca Miller's information. The date the night before, the drinks at a local pub, the long walk to her apartment.

"He stayed the night," she says. "And went for coffee the next morning."

"Simple," he remarks. "And tragic."

She shrugs, marking the date on the man's timeline, but she understands.

"I can't believe she thought he just abandoned her," Castle mutters.

"He didn't leave a note," Kate defends. "He walked out the next morning while she was asleep and never came back. What was she supposed to think?"

"She should've known how much he loved her, that he'd never-"

"Castle," she says quietly, lifting her eyebrow at him.

He closes his mouth, pouting.

She waits and he shrugs his shoulders, his fingers stroking at his tie. "Maybe I'm projecting."

Kate glances around the bullpen and straightens up, places the marker on her desk as she comes to him. He lifts his eyes to her and she takes the tie out of his hands, reaches for the knot to loosen it slowly, tucking her fingers into his collar.

"You have no need to project, Rick Castle."

He takes in a grumpy breath, his forehead wrinkled. "I know."

"You don't have to wear it," she says with a soft smile, tugging on the knot of his tie.

"I like it," he protests.

"But you do look kinda. . .strangled."

He winces and reaches up, his fingers over hers as she loosens the knot a little more and slides one end out. "Yeah. Little bit."

Kate pulls the tie away from his neck and leans in, brushes her lips his adam's apple. "Not looking to put a collar on you, Castle."

"But I'm already whipped. Might as well."

She laughs and folds the tie up, pushes it into his jacket pocket.

"True, but we don't need to broadcast it, do we?"

She gets home late, drops her stuff in the entry of her apartment, too tired to pick it up. She rubs at her cheek, scratches her nails over her scalp and loosens her hair as she steps out of her shoes.

Kate jumps a mile when Castle comes out of her bedroom; she presses a hand to her heart.

"Castle."

"Hey, you have dinner yet?" He meets her at the kitchen, his hands reaching for her coat and unbuttoning, sliding it off while she gets her heartbeat back under control.

"Um, no," she says, letting him take her coat.

Castle grins. "Good. I made us something."

"Oh. Thanks," she smiles.

"And."

She lifts an eyebrow at him as he hangs up her coat, and he comes back to her with his hands in his pockets.

"And?"

He pulls out the necktie patterned with his words all over it, printed like it's fresh from a typewriter, crooked lines so small that from this distance, it looks almost checkered. It's not that bad, really, but on him. . .

"Dessert," he says with relish, swinging the tie.

"What," she laughs. "That's dessert?"

"It is when one of gets tied up."

"One of us?"

"Or both."

She chuckles and tugs on the tie dangling between his fingers. "Hopefully, it'll look better around your wrists than your neck."

He grins and leans in close, his breath skirting her jaw. "I was thinking yours, Detective."

She curls her hand in his belt and nips at his ear. "Then can I have dessert first?"