sunset
Castle lifts the baby from Kate's chest and watches her stir. Not fully conscious, just wading through the quicksand of her exhaustion to get to him. He curls an arm underneath their son and leans down, dusting a kiss at his wife's temple.
Her lashes drift up like shadows, her eyes wheeling for a moment before she latches on to him. "S' early."
"I know." Rick murmurs back, a palm firm at her shoulder to halt her progress before she's even managed to push back the sheets. "Doesn't matter."
"Gotta-"
"He's fine." The bed dips under him as he sits, Kate rolling back towards his weight at her hip. "Look."
She peels her eyes open again, a soft and entirely automatic smile for the sleeping warmth of their boy as her fingers flutter over the curve of his cheek. "He's out?"
"Yes. And if he wakes, I got it. Just sleep. You need it."
He stands again, stills at the feel of her slender fingers circling his wrist. "Wake me if he needs me."
"He always needs you. We both do." Castle grits out, carding a hand through the spill of her curls against the pillow. She turns her head into his touch, languid and entirely not here.
Unspooling, her thoughts trip right out of her mouth. Crumbling around the barrier of her teeth, but coherent nonetheless. "Sap. If he needs feeding. . ."
"Yes, Kate. If he's hungry I'll wake you. But otherwise, get some sleep."
She's already gone, knees drawing up to press against her stomach and her hand falling limp to the sheets. Castle kisses her cheek again, their son's palm splayed against his chest. "Love you."
Maybe his words can thread through to her unconscious, paint her dreams with the terrifying depth of all she is to him.
In the living room, Rick stands at the window and cradles Jack to his chest, cupping the curve of his skull in his palm. So much more hair than Alexis had at this age. Thicker too, and dark like a wash of ink.
The city writhes in the street below, a frost casing with the day that makes everything sharper. Makes the inside, here with his son, all the more amniotic. Reams of lights hang in the windows opposite, fighting to splash their color over their own small patch of Manhattan as the winter sun sinks below the skyline.
Christmas, in a little more than a week, and they haven't even decorated yet. Alexis is spending winter break with her boyfriend's family, his mother busy with her latest flame.
And Kate is wiped out. Jack's not what he'd call a difficult baby, but even so Kate is exhausted. She gets up in the night to check that he's still breathing, spends hours gazing into his cot and tries to hide it from Castle.
Only, Rick hears her murmuring to their boy over the baby monitor.
He would do it, decorate and cook for her and take their son out to see the lights and the people and meet Santa Claus, but she keeps telling him no. Keeps saying that Jack, at four months old, is not going to remember any of it.
Okay, so she's right. But that doesn't mean the smile that cracks wide over their boy's face whenever he sees the dancing reindeer toy Castle bought him is not entirely worth it.
Yesterday, he cornered her fresh out of the shower while Jackson was sleeping and set his hands at her waist, his mouth dipping down to meet hers. And then he asked why she doesn't want to do Christmas.
She said she does. Quietly, with him and their son. No extravagance, no noise. Just the peaceful murmur of their little family. And the look on her face gutted him, made him clutch harder at her and promise everything.
A shard of winter sunlight glides through the window, landing on Jack's face so he stirs. His eyes flutter open, more and more of the forest palette Castle sees in his wife leeching into the blue every day.
He grins down at his son, earns himself a smile in return. Jack's mouth opens, his head spinning around to see out of the window, and Rick has to set his palm more firmly at his son's skull to keep him upright.
Rick shifts to give Jack a clear view right down the canyon of city blocks to the water, pearlescent as the sun dips into it. The shimmery lick of pale light over the frosted street feels other-worldly, a blanched version of their city.
Jack grins wider as Castle bounces with him, feeling the tug of awareness in his knee. Doesn't matter. It will always be worth it to make his son happy. He nudges his nose against his son's cheek, laughing into the creases of the baby's neck and earning himself a bubble of laughter.
"Hi buddy. You like Christmas, huh?"
Their son is, as always, completely enthralled at the sound of his father's voice. Kate laughs about it, the way Jack arches up from the cradle of her arms to get a look at his daddy every time Rick opens his mouth.
"Yeah, me too. We just gotta persuade your mommy now." Castle grins, peppering kisses to his son's cheeks. That delicious laughter floods up out of him, his eyes wide and ever-observant.
He settles himself in the armchair, Jack cushioned on his thighs and facing out, watching the trace of shadows down the block. Rick sets his mouth at his little boy's crown, smells the newness of him that still clings.
And underneath, layers of sweet musk. Jack fell asleep on Kate's chest, and now he smells like his momma.
"Don't worry, my man. Your mom is so much fun. She's tired right now, but you just wait. She pulls the best pranks. I'm sure the two of you will be teaming up on me in no time."
And he can't wait for that day.
A/N: This one's for Ecosler24 and saved240307, who wanted to see a moment between Castle and his son. I hope it lives up to what you wanted. Also, fair warning. Tomorrow I'm revisiting the Alzheimer's storyline. I understand if some of you will need to skip that one.