Disclaimer: No. Just no.

A/N: So this chapter decided to fight me. And I've had a horrible day so maybe that's why. On a happy note: this story has 500 reviews! OMG guys, THANK YOU SO MUCH.

It's been a good day - evening - and she's content in the knowledge that their little one had a nice time even if they didn't leave the building. Castle was right, his neighbors and tenants on lower levels absolutely adored their Cub. He's actually dressed as a bear cub. Ears and all - though he's pushed the hood back and it now rests on the back of his neck. His feet looking like light brown tiny paws and she even painted his nose black with her eyeliner. Her Cub in the arms of her...well...her writer. He didn't dress up which she almost questioned but she's not dressed up either. Not really a whole lot of options with twin girls expanding her stomach to make her resemble a whale. Maybe that's her costume.

There's a bucket dangling from her hand, filled with chocolate goodies that she has a feeling Castle is more excited about than Wes. Although their son is sporting a chocolate beard at the moment, a piece still melting in his hand as he chews. Maybe he's just as excited as his father - they're both Castle's and the rambunctious child does seem to take after him.

She rests the candy on the kitchen counter and reaches out to ruffle her son's hair. He grins at her, swings his legs against Castle's side and shoves the last piece of his chocolate into his mouth, all of his fingers spreading the melted goo around on his face. Pushing it up to mix with the now smeared black of his nose. The little bear is officially a sticky gooey mess. She presses a kiss to his head, avoids the chocolate before she gives Castle the same treatment, carding her fingers through his hair, cradling his ear with her palm and laying her mouth against his jaw.

"He can be your buddy tonight, mess and all."

"I think he wants more." She knows he does, watching as he points his hand at the bucket, trying to stretch his body in the same direction, thinking he can reach if he tries just a little harder. "You want some more, little man?"

"No. He's had enough for the night."

"Momma's being a meanie, she says no."

"Castle, he's had three Hershey kisses in the last ten minutes. He'll survive." Of course, she knows that her Cub doesn't see it the same way. He's grunting, trying to kick away from his father and just reach the bowl of treats. She pats his back, steps between him and the counter. He narrows his eyes, brow furrowing and lip pouting. She's seen it enough that she can stand her ground, tell him no. And then he makes a sound in the back of his throat, a low rumble and she glances from him to his smirking father and back again.

"Okay, little Cub. I think that's definitely enough. You're being cranky." He does it again, reaching out to grab her shirt with chocolate covered fingers. She just thought she'd get away unscathed by his mess. "No, Wes. Stop growling."

"He gets that from you."

"He does not." And she doesn't even need to look up to know that he's staring at her in disbelief. A look that she gives him more often than not. She knows just by the way he grows still, no longer swaying with their son. And maybe she knows because he's telling the truth. She does tend to growl sometimes. Early mornings on her days off when Castle tries to wake her. She's not a morning person when she's pregnant. She's not really much of a morning person at all without coffee. "Okay, maybe he does."

"Maybe?"

"Don't push it, I have a surprise for you and I'd hate to take it away before you even know what it is." She untangles the hand in her shirt and maneuvers around the counter, into the kitchen. Heading for a specific cabinet. She reaches in, gets out the carton shaped box and hears her husband's confused stuttering. "No. Not Goldfish, though I know you love them too. These are for Wes."

She doesn't even have to ask, Castle just knows the routine - strapping the bear into his highchair and talking him down as he struggles to get out. Their son hates being confined. Always has and she doesn't understand why. He doesn't like the tray that snaps in front of him, always slams his palms against it until she steps closer, tries to soothe him with a calm tone. Sometimes it works, other times not so much. But right now, her partner is working magic, resting his palm on top of the boys head, rubbing his thumb over his temple and it works, calms him immediately.

"I don't know why he hates that thing so much."

"Mother says I was the same way, don't remember it though and I think she just makes stuff up sometimes." Kate rolls her eyes, get a cloth from the drawer next to the stove to wipe the chocolate away.

"You know you miss her." They both do. It's quiet without her - well as quiet as it can be with their mini Tarzan running around - and Kate knows that her writer misses having Martha breeze in, lighten up the room with her tales and her wisdom. Even though he's been going on and on for days about how nice it is to have sex wherever they want when Cub is napping and not worry about anyone catching them. To which she always shoots down with the fact that his mother and daughter have keys and she's heavily pregnant and not up to his sexcapades.

Kate joins her little family, Castle at her side and her son in front. She gently wipes at his cheeks, and even washes the black from his nose. Wes doesn't fight her on this, knows that his face has to be clean but he still tries to pull his hands away when she rubs the cloth over his fingers. He just wants the crackers tucked beneath her arm, one hand already reaching.

As soon as he's relatively free of chocolate, she gives him a hand full of the cheesy delicious little fish, popping a few in her mouth before she puts them back in the cabinet. He's already diving in, fingers chasing the fish as they swim away from him when his palm smacks down in the middle of the pile. A frown on his face and a cranky cry tumbling from his lips. She smiles, cuddles her body into Castle's side as she leans her head against his shoulder.

"I think Halloween got the best of him."

"He's just like Momma, gets cranky too easily." She can't even be mad at him for saying it because it's true. She gets fed up with the tiniest things and right now, their Cub is doing the same. Fussing as he gets a few of the fish between his fingers, only to have most of them fall away before he gets them up to his mouth. "So, what is this surprise that you have for me?"

"You know how you've been bugging me for weeks about painting my stomach to look like a pumpkin?"

"And you say no every single time even though it would be adorable." She turns her face into him, nips his shoulder, catching the fabric of his shirt between her teeth to get his attention. And then she releases, trails a hand up his spine.

"I thought about it and you've been really good to me, to all of us. You've put up with my mood swings and my cravings and you're an amazing father to our kids - so I suppose I'll let you do this." She feels it, the excitement that bubbles in him, makes his muscles tense as he reaches to pull her into his chest, not caring about the stomach that gets in the way. "Wait, there are a few rules."

"Of course."

"This never leaves our bedroom. No one knows but us." He's already nodding and she has a feeling that he's not actually listening, that he's too enthused about the idea of using body paint to make her abdomen look like a giant orange blob. Why is she agreeing to this, again? And then he smiles, leans in to nudge his nose into hers and she remembers. "And no clothes."

"Even better."

"For you. No clothes for you. Those are my demands - in our bedroom and you have to be naked." She knows the moment he caresses her mouth with his own, swipes his tongue along her bottom lip that he's more than okay with her rules. She knew he would be.

"Momma," A tired voice breaks them apart. "Momma momma."

Cranky and tired. The little bear in his chair is rubbing his eyes with one hand, shoveling snacks into his open mouth with the other. She won't be surprised a bit if he falls asleep eating his crackers.

"Hey Cub, you almost ready for bed?" He stops chewing, stops rubbing at his eye and stares up at her for a moment and then he slowly shakes his head. Something new he's learned that she almost wishes he hadn't because every single thing she asks him, he shakes his head no at her. "Daddy's gonna give you a bath and then it's bedtime."

Another shake of his head and this time, it's Castle that jumps in.

"Sorry little man, but I got a date with Momma so I need you to cooperate." She lets out a huff - almost a laugh - and kisses them both on the cheek. There's no way their boy is going to go easy on him. She knows how he gets when he's too tired. They'll be lucky if it doesn't take another two hours to put him down for the night.

But her husband's optimism is cute.

"Maybe we shouldn't do it here." She's not backing out. She's not. Even though he's now looking at her as if she is. He's kneeling on the bed in the buff and all she's thinking about is the orange tube of paint in his hand and their white sheets. And how ridiculous this is, and maybe the fact that he talked her into shedding her clothes too so they wouldn't end up with body paint smeared over them. Although, she's pretty sure he couldn't care less about the well being of her clothing. "The sheets are white, Castle."

"And this is washable." She knew it. Knew he wasn't serious when he palmed his way up her back, unfastened the bra with a flick of wrist and said it was for the greater good of her underwear collection.

She arches an eyebrow at him, says nothing as he situates himself between her thighs, her legs circling around his waist as she makes herself comfortable. Well as comfortable as she can get with the pillows propped against the headboard and the pregnant belly taking over her body. Twenty-seven weeks and she's a hot air balloon.

The first touch is cold, makes her yelp and cover her mouth in embarrassment as he smooths a drop of bright orange right over her navel. She can't believe she's letting him do this. But he looks so proud that he's wore her down, got her to agree to something this childish. She really wouldn't mind pushing him back, wiping that smirk off his face with a flick of her tongue but she won't. She can't. She doesn't get around very quickly on a mattress anymore. She can't just push herself up and jump him. It now takes thinking, a few slow moves that give him time to counterattack, so she bites her lip, let's him have his fun.

Watches as her stomach goes from a tan patch of skin to an orange round globe. She's already regretting this. She looks like a huge basketball. That's not very attractive and yet he's leaning in closer, inspecting his work with a critical eye that makes her squirm as his thumb traces over her belly button again.

"You know it's adorable, the half moon." She doesn't know what he's talking about until he pokes at it, and one of their girls pokes back. Pushing up from inside of her, forcing her skin to move. He smiles, strokes over the orange coating on her stomach as Ella moves again. "One side sticks out further, so it looks like a crescent moon."

She hasn't actually been paying much attention to it. It's just her navel but apparently he has. Her weird and crazy man. But now she's looking, craning her neck to see and she admits that he's right. This insane writer of hers - the man she married, the father to the kids she's mothering - is absolutely right. And absolutely turning her on without even trying.

"You're supposed to be painting a pumpkin, not playing peek-a-boo with Ella and scrutinizing my navel." Every time she feels the little one move, Castle sees it, follows the path with his fingers.

He wiggles his eyebrows, ignores her warning tone and goes about his business of being up in her business. Smearing more paint over her skin, dipping down to gently press against Cash. He's playing with them. It takes her a moment to realize it but he is. One hand chasing after a Peanut that's now pushing around, kicking off against her ribs and now he's pushing his fingers against their other daughter. She's been moving more lately, finally battling it out with her sister for space.

It leaves Kate feeling like she's a casualty in their war but now Castle is intentionally waking them, wanting to feel them move and she can always tell when he does. When Cash finally kicks or elbows and a smile lights up in those warm blue eyes. She can feel the second Cash comes to life, the way she wiggles but he doesn't. It's only when their babies stretch out against the confinement of her body that he can feel them.

"Are you really waking them up?" He nods, leans down to rest his lips over an inch of skin that isn't yet covered in bright orange. She loves when he does this, when he lets his words flow against her stomach - his voice becoming soft and rich.

"Hey there, Cash, time to wake up." Both of their girls move at the same time, almost as if they want to be closer to him, closer to the voice that Kate's in love with. Her daughters must love it too. They love their father's voice and that's almost enough to have tears forming in her eyes, almost enough to turn this into something sentimental instead of playfully sexy. "I can't wait to meet you, lazy baby."

And now it's enough. She's no longer thinking about his naked skin against her own, or that he's already in the perfect position to take this to a whole different level of strange. As if the body painting isn't already taking it there. But now she's melting into the pillows, relaxing her thighs to rest limply over his as he moves over to Peanut.

"And you, are going to be just like your brother, a little wild one. Our Miss Ella Jo." He's something remarkable. She's lucky to have him and she knows it. She knows that he's one of a kind. The only man who will ever love her like this.

"Next year." He raises his head, eyes her curiously and she offers a watery smile before she finishes her thought. "Next year, Wes can be Green Lantern. I know you wanted it this year but he's so little and the bear cub was too good to pass up."

She's not sure why she's blurting it out now but it just seems like the right time. Even if his hands are orange and in mid reach of the black paint that comes next. It just seems right that she lets him know she didn't just shoot down his Halloween idea - that their boy will get his day as a superhero. And she knows that it'll be a challenge with three kids but they'll make it work. They've got this.

"Okay. Okay, next year." He doesn't ask anything, doesn't question why she's telling him right now when they playfully argued for two days over what their son would be for his first Halloween or that they ended up settling it with a game of Rochambeau.

He just continues his painting, wiping his hands against the sheets, not even caring about staining them before dabbing the black on his fingertip, making triangular eyes for the jack-o-lantern he's turning her stomach into. Ella kicks, makes him smear the black across in a streak that connects the eyes as if he meant to paint glasses.

"You didn't think about them moving so much when you thought this up, did you?" She knows he didn't by the look of surprise on his face, the determination that sets his jaw as he steadily moves on to the nose. It tickles a little and she squirms, moving her hips and making him groan. She's not sorry a bit for the way he bends, bites at a rather sensitive spot along her side, his chin getting covered in orange.

She stifles a laugh, pushes at his head until he raises up, flashes his teeth at her and tries to paint a mouth over Cash. Kate feels her move, stretching, making her stomach move as soon as he touches it. Their babies aren't cooperating. Neither one of them and she already loves them so much, it's impossible to love them any more but if she could, this moment would be the cause of it.

"C'mon Cash, you should be on my side."

"I think our little Charlie doesn't like that you're painting on Momma." He stills above her, eyes lifting to meet with hers and she's barely holding back a smile, barely keeping herself in check.

"Charlie?"

"You love the name Charlotte, and I do too. I think it's pretty. I thought we could call her Charlie for short. And it fits with Hanna, Char-" He cuts her off with a press of his mouth to hers, something hot and insistent. Burning. Sending a wave of fire crashing over her, sizzling beneath her skin as he rubs a hand from her knee to her hip. She can feel the paint smear, doesn't even care. The name still floats out between them - his voice instead of hers, ghosting over her lips.

"Charlotte Hanna."

"You kept saying it in your sleep." That's how she knew it was one he really cared about. One he loved. A name that he'd like to use for their daughter. And she's so grateful for him, for the way he is, the person he is that she's unable to find anything better. He thinks so too. She can tell by the fingers stroking up the inside of her thigh, the hand resting on her hip. "Castle, if you plan on painting, you really need to stop."

"I think we're done painting."

It's not just their sheets that end up covered in orange and black. It's all over their hands, stained into their skin, knees, elbows, her chest, his stomach from where it brushed over hers with every slow and sweet thrust. And when they leave the mattress for a shower, she realizes it's streaked across his ass, perfect reminders of where her hands just couldn't stay away. She doesn't say a word about it.

a/n: Because I couldn't resist.