December 20 - Splendor
That's too loud. Bright noise in his ear. His head hurts but he snags his phone off the bedside table.
"Unh, yeah?"
A soft laugh on the other end of the phone wakes him up a little.
"Kate?"
"Yeah, Sleeping Beauty. You do know it's well past eight o'clock?"
Castle takes a glimpse of his phone's digital display and sighs. "Sorry. How're your legs?"
"What?"
"Cause you been running round in my dreams all night."
He hears her disapproving sigh. "Castle."
"I had trouble getting to sleep last night, and it's all your fault."
She makes a noise that sounds like both a laugh and agreement. "Well, don't get out of bed on my account, Castle."
"On your account, I'd get back in-"
"Castle," she admonishes. "Bring it down a notch."
"Sorry. My mouth has no filter in the morning."
"Mm, I can tell. Too bad I'm not there to help shut you up."
Well, *that* did a very fine job of it. What the hell? Kate Beckett is back to being this evil tease of a woman. Ah, the best kind.
"Sounds like I don't even need to be there," she laughs.
"Oh but it's so much nicer when you are," he sighs. "Let me get dressed and showered and I'll come there so you can shut me up in person-"
"Hopefully not in that order."
"Wha-what?"
"Castle, never mind," she says gently, and he swears he hears a kind of tenderness in her voice he's never heard before - the kind that usually is paired with a term of endearment like sweetheart. Never mind, sweetheart. It might be his still dreaming subconscious taking over.
"Never mind what?"
"Look, Gates just read me the riot act. Stay home today, okay? I've got to clear this subway station case and then I'm heading straight for my dad's-"
"What did Gates say to you?" he croaks out, pressing the phone to his ear. Marginally more awake now. Enough to hear there's a lot she isn't saying.
It's confirmed by the long silence on her end. "Just. More of the same."
"Kate," he chides. "She talked to you about me. About us." Castle freezes, eyes widening as he realizes - they've never said - he's never said - Kate's never said-
"Yeah," she says finally. "About. . .us."
Damn. Castle closes his eyes and rolls onto his back, bringing a hand up to forehead. He did *not* want the first conversation they have which gives a specific definition to what they are to happen because of damn Captain Gates.
"Castle. Everyone knows." She sighs back at him, but it sounds resigned and not upset.
"I think they knew before we did," he snorts.
She huffs a breath of laughter and he can practically see that pressed-lips smile she's been giving him lately. Yeah, he could go on all day about that smile.
"What I mean is. . .Ryan and Esposito were covering for us. But ever since the mandatory call-in, it's much harder to go unnoticed. And Gates is observant."
"Yeah, kinda in the job description." He knows it fails as a joke, but he can't come up with anything better. He really wants to know that she's okay with this, that it doesn't bother her to be told off by her boss about appropriate behavior in workplace relationships (is that the lecture she got? or was it more tried and true invective about Castle not being good for her professionally?)
"I should go-"
"Wait. Are you - Kate, are you okay with this?" He presses the heel of his hand into his eye socket, holds his breath.
"With what? My boss treating me like a twelve year old? You getting grounded and sent to your room?"
Deflection. That in and of itself tells him she's not entirely comfortable.
He rolls back onto his side, watches the numbers on his alarm clock switch. Now it's nine. She leaves for her dad's tonight and won't be back for three days. His Christmas cheer has taken a direct hit.
"Castle," she murmurs. "Stay home today. It'll be late, but I'll call you when I get to my dad's."
He can't help grinning at that. Calling to let him know she's arrived safely. Because it matters to him, because she doesn't want him to worry. Yeah, he loves this woman.
He sighs heavily into the phone with all the words he can't say again. "Kate."
"I know," she murmurs.
She knows?
"Thank you for my thimble," she says softly.
He grins again, can imagine the answering grin on her face. "Yeah. You get it?"
"Of course. 'Peter Pan.' Most girls I knew wanted a thimble from a boy who never grew up. They'll be so jealous."
She's laughing at him, but he doesn't even care. "Were you one of those girls?" he asks, imagining Kate as a little fairy of a girl, reading the books or watching the Disney cartoon, wishing she could fly away.
"I have one now," she hums at him. "My very own."
And then she hangs up.
He gets a phone call at eleven that night; when he picks up, she sounds breathless and she can't even greet him.
"Oh God, it's amazing. Castle-"
His heart soars at the wonder in her voice. "Kate," he breathes.
"Deer. Seven or eight right beside the road, heading back into the trees. I'm listening to 'Splendor' and out of the darkness are these gorgeous deer-"
Kate. Oh, wow - Kate.
"Oh God, it was amazing. Two or three does with babies, a flock of deer - a herd? I don't know-"
He finds his voice. "A herd, sometimes a mob."
She laughs lightly; he imagines moonlight and snow, the sound of the wheels on the road. "This was no mob. This was like magic."
Magic she doesn't even believe in. "A group of roe deer is called a bevy," he offers, because he has no idea what to say in the face of her wonderment.
"A flock," she says softly. "I like my first answer."
"A group you see disappearing into the woods should be called a haunt of deer."
"Oh. Yes. A haunt," she whispers. Moonlight on her beautiful cheeks and the virgin snow and the shadowy deer.
God, he wants her. It hurts to not have her. "Where are you, Kate?"
"Driving to my dad's. I have an hour's drive left. I wanted - the music is gorgeous today, Castle."
He sinks to the top of his desk, glances out at the city. M83's 'Splendor' is today's song. Which is beautiful and perfect for spotting a herd - haunt - flock of deer.
"How long will you be there again?" He's not really asking; he already knows. He just. He wishes she was with him. "I miss you."
She sighs like the whisper of wiper blades across a snow-dusted windshield. "Three days." He can hear her take a long breath. "You could. . .come up."
He sits stunned on his desk, the sparkle of city lights in his eyes, and tries to formulate a response.
She jumps in. "Or. I know you have Alexis, and your mother, and you shouldn't-"
"I can come," he says hurriedly. "Can I come?"
The breathlessness seems to have returned to her voice. "Yes. It's still snowing. And my father likes you. For some reason," she adds in a dry voice.
He grins, able to relax. "You can text me directions. I'll come up tomorrow morning?"
"Yeah. If you make it before 9, there's breakfast."
"Made by you or your dad?"
She huffs. "Dad. I'm not making you food, Castle. I'll never get rid of you."
"You forget. You've already made me breakfast."
"Too late then," she says softly. "Stuck with you forever."
There's a long silence where all he hears is her breathing on the other end, the way she's still caught up in both the wonder of seeing those deer in the snowy woods, and also the stunning, sudden invitation to have him come see her at her dad's. Forever.
And then speaks again, quietly. "Oh, this song. I love this song, Castle."
Splendor in the woods, deer and moonlight and snow. "I'm glad. It's not really a Christmas song, just-"
"Fits."
"Yeah." He suddenly remembers the moment when Ryan proposed to Jenny in the precinct, remembers looking over at Kate and seeing the tears unshed in her eyes. God, he wants to be the reason for those joyful tears.
"Castle, you bring your family up too," she says suddenly, all that winter woods magic evaporating with her nervous-sounding rush. "I forgot. Alexis's last Christmas before college. Bring them-"
"Maybe," he hedges, not at all certain Alexis would be willing to drive up with him for an awkward breakfast with Kate's family.
"Or not. You don't have to come, Castle."
"Oh no. Can't rescind the invitation now, Beckett. I'm there. You promised me breakfast. Just make sure there's enough maple syrup."
She laughs, light-heartened again, some of the awe from the deer sighting tinting her voice again. "How do you know you'll even need syrup? What if it's just scrambled eggs and biscuits?"
"How would I not need syrup?"
She groans on a laugh, her voice rich even over the cell phone. Nothing can strip her voice of its timber, its range, the way it curls around his heart and warms him.
"Only you," she murmurs, and he knows what she really means, but he hears what he wants to hear, and it sends a stab of joy into his chest that splits open his ribs and bleeds him out.
"Only for you, Kate," he says back, unable to help himself.