Wintersong
December 25
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love you more than you'll ever know
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He finds her under the Christmas tree, her knees drawn up to her chest, arms hooked around her legs, cradling a mug of coffee. The red book of Nikki Heat is at her side, closed, and he knows she took it to bed last night, read longer than he could stay awake with her, despite several forays into fooling around, touches along her hip, her stomach, tantalizing her away from the book.
She kept going back to it.
He skims the top of her head and sinks to the couch, watches the lights with her in familiar silence.
She speaks first, unfolding from her posture before the tree and climbing onto the couch with him. "Merry Christmas, Rick." Her kiss has the flavor of vanilla and rich coffee beans, a hint of mint. She leans back and offers her mug. "Want?"
He hums his gratitude and takes a healthy swallow, the heat bleeding through him, all the stiff and unawake places. She winds her arm through his, her knees pulled up and pressed over his thigh, almost in his lap. Comfortable.
He keeps the coffee, lifts a hand to comb her hair back behind her ear. She lays her cheek to his shoulder, sighing softly. A good sigh, content. He likes content almost as much as he likes restless and fiery and passionate.
"I almost didn't make it," she murmurs. "How sad, that I might have missed this."
"Nah," he says, scraping a thread of her hair back from her lips and tucking it with the rest behind her ear. "I wouldn't have let you miss it."
"Oh?" The rise of an eyebrow.
"I'd have shown up at your doorstep and force-fed you Christmas cheer."
She chuckles. "And how exactly did you plan on finding my doorstep?"
"What do you think those burner phones were for?"
Kate lifts up, glancing at him, lips pursed. "Aren't you clever."
"Well. Hayley's idea," he sighs, knocking his cheek into her forehead. "But I would've done it. Brought Christmas to you. I told you I wasn't giving up."
She lays her head back on his shoulder. "You bring Christmas magic with you." Her arm threads through his, fingers scratching the top of his thigh through his pajama pants. "I don't know how you always manage to get me. Winter rolls in, that first blast of cold, and I feel like those stupid red Starbucks cups."
"What?" he laughs, almost spitting out his sip of coffee. "Starbucks cups - the ones everyone has gotten in an uproar about?"
"Yeah, the plain red ones. No Christmas message, no holiday cheer. Like it's the best I can do to put on something red and try to fake it. Hope people think I'm being modern or subtle. I don't know. But you - you're the guy scrawling Merry Christmas all over me, you're my snowflakes and winter scenes and... joy."
Castle's chest expands. He lifts a hand and catches the side of her face, manages a kiss at the corner of her mouth. "That's - both beautiful and sad."
"No, it's not," she murmurs. "I have you. And you wouldn't have let me miss this."
"No, never," he promises.
She smiles, her chin nudging into his shoulder, face against his neck, and it makes him slosh the coffee. He holds the mug aloft, takes another sip to lower the level, make it a little safer, but she takes it from him. A sip of her own. She clasps the coffee mug in both hands, as if warming them, but she settles a little closer. Mug to her chest.
"What are you doing up so early?" he says finally. His hands are free now to find the skin just under the tank top, the one from the hardware store, and he strokes. "You couldn't sleep?"
She laughs a little, elbows him, squirming. "Your fault. I stayed up all night reading your almost-book."
He glances over at where she's left it on the floor before the tree. "You finished it?"
"Yeah," she grins, leaning back in the couch. Her hand lays at his spine, scratching. "I'll probably read it again after Christmas. It's sweet, and kinda hot, Castle."
He grunts. "Reason those scenes got cut."
"Mm, the one about taking those cover shoot photos? Definitely glad you didn't include that in the real books."
He lifts an eyebrow, but he knows she can't really see it from where she is. "Oh?"
She scratches his nape, pets at the hair there, leaning in against him to brush her lips along his ear. "Some things are just for us."
Castle glances back at her, smirking. "I think so anyway."
She turns her mouth up, smoothing her fingers at his nape. "Not the only reason I was up early."
"No?"
"No," she says, looking coy and clever. "You've been looking at it this whole time and didn't even notice."
"What?" He jerks his eyes up to the tree, scanning up all fifteen feet and then across to the wreaths at the window and-
She puts two fingers to his jaw and turns his head.
To the mantel.
"You made me a stocking," he gasps.
She's all warm and wriggling happiness at his back, leaning in against him, voice in his ear. "I did. Put it up this morning. But you know Alexis has one for you too, so you have to open it quick. Or hide it for later."
He glances sideways at her. "Hide it? Should I be saving it for later?"
She presses her lips flat and looks like she's really thinking. "Maybe so. A couple things are..." A gesture of her hand that could be anything, or could be one very specific thing (wow), and he nods.
"Got it. Save it for later."
"Are you sure you can?" she teases.
"Someone has been teaching me patience," he quips. And then he thinks better of it and glances at her, but she waves him off, it's fine.
"If you think you can, then get it down from there and hide it away," she tells him. She gives a little scratch at his scalp and straightens up, feet on the floor again. Her kiss is soft at the corner of his mouth, a light brush of her lips. "I don't want Alexis to think I'm trying to upstage her."
Castle catches her arm before she can stand, pulls her back into him. "Thank you, Kate. For thinking of her-"
She shrugs it off, but her eyes are tender. She makes him release her, and she stands up, but she brushes her thumb against the corner of his eye, smoothing down the wrinkles.
"Actually, your kid is the thoughtful one. She came to me with your stocking a few days ago, and I put a few things in that one too." She ducks down and kisses his mouth. Slow, thorough. A Christmas mistletoe kiss. A kiss of love. "You did good with that kid."
She straightens up, caressing the side of his face before she takes his hand.
He stands with her, squeezing the hand in his before he lets her go. "Glad you think so. Now help me make some smiley face pancakes for my thoughtful kid, okay? Wake everyone up."
"Mm, pancakes," she says, a little more enthusiasm than he expected. "Merry Christmas to all."
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A/N: Stay tuned for the New Year's Eve epilogue! Until then, have a wonderful holiday, however you celebrate - whether you are the one keeping watch or the one bringing Christmas cheer to another's doorstep.