winter
"I love winter with you."
Castle grins, shifting his fingers and cracking hers open a little wider, cold air rushing in to fill up the empty space. They wind through the outdoor market; the reams of tiny lights that hang above the stalls throw deep shadow onto his face, swathes of it licking underneath his cheekbones.
It's different, seeing it all with him. The soft catch of his breath in awe-filled surprise at the most beautiful stalls, the ones that tug him to a stop.
It feels richer, all of it more somehow with him darting in to kiss her cheek, the cold edge of his nose clashing with the hard angles of her face. "You do?"
"Yeah. I love the markets, the lights, the festivity. But it's not quite the same when you don't have someone to share in it all with."
And she can't help but smile at that, tugging him close and meeting his mouth with her own so the foot traffic is forced into divergence around the stumbling block of their bodies. It's light, the again and again touch of their lips without ever delving deeper.
It's too cold to be still for long so she lets him break away with a last kiss to the tender stretch of her neck, right on the equator of scarf and bare skin. It feels strange, the heat of him diffusing right in to the cold places.
"It's magical." She offers, catches a shard of his grin from the corner of her eye. She knows that in it he hears all she doesn't say. How he gives her that magic back, how very grateful she is to him.
A part of her wants to take her gloves off, pull his off too so their bare skins can meet. She wants the crash of his lifelines at hers, the constant heat of him warming her where she's thin and exposed.
"Come to the park?"
There's no surprise. Not anymore. Maybe early on she'd have felt that insistent nudge of confusion, wanted to have all the evidence before she decided. But it's him, and it's their third Christmas, and sometimes he just does things.
Things that don't make any sense. And then they do, and he's crafting perfect memories for her, lacing them all together in strings of words and feelings and sounds and bliss.
"Okay."
Their walk is quiet, both of them content to watch the drip and weave of people in the streets and bask in the insistent warmth of the other. And then he's guiding her over to a fountain, the square quiet in the darkness.
Night laps at the edges, but here seated next to the water feature she can see every hollow and plane of his face splashed with city light. Underneath, he's slicked in moonlight that makes him seem like marble.
Beautiful, but a little cold. Kate leans in to kiss him, allowing herself all the fervent exploration she wouldn't give in to earlier. And he's giving it right back, his hand coming up to cradle her cheek. The coarse scratch of his glove at gossamer skin makes her grit out a sigh, leaning in to him.
When he breaks away it's to beam at her, moonlight trapped in his teeth. So much of the little boy in him, the festive season drawing it up. He used to hide it.
Last year, they were apart. He was on his book tour, spent Christmas day in a hotel room in Edinburgh. And when she spoke to him on the phone, it was stilted and a little awkward. Much like all their over conversations over those two months.
And then he came back, she moved in to the loft, he proposed. The ring makes a ridge underneath her glove now and she smoothes her thumb over it, something protective stirring within her.
"It's cold to just sit."
"I know." He shrugs, moving closer to draw her into his arms and set his chin at the crown of her head. "But the bustle was getting to me."
That has a laugh escaping her, little more than a huff of air that turns white in front of them and curls in wisps. "You love people. And noise."
"Yeah, but I love you more."
"Sap." She shoots right back, but she's turning a smile in to his cheek and sliding her fingers to hook at his pocket.
He laughs, nuzzling into her hair. It's growing out now, the soft curls he loves to tease with his fingers falling past her shoulders. "I'm not sorry."
"Didn't think so." She grins, standing up and taking both of his hands to tug him up too, drawing his arms around her waist.
His hips nudge against hers, their foreheads meeting to stave off the chill. She likes the crisp bite of it in her lungs, fresh and clean. But more, she likes how Castle is constantly heat-seeking, looking to her as a place of warmth against which to bury himself.
"Kate? Thanks."
"For what?" She hums out, kissing him in the quiet tenderness of the night. His hands slip inside her coat, lines of heat searing the skin at her spine even through her sweater.
"Being here. Letting me share things with you." He seems desolate about it, and that won't do at all.
Kate lets her face break open on a smile, nudging it into the soft skin underneath his jaw and darting her tongue out to taste, raking her teeth over the shadowed stubble there. He groans and she feels the shockwave of it ripple through him, deliciously hers.
"You don't have to thank me. I'm in this."
He smiles too, then, stepping back and reclaiming her hand. "I know. You're wearing my ring."
"Yeah. Gonna be your wife, right? Share everything."
He raises an eyebrow at her, eyes and mouth in a confluence of joy so he's creasing up, parentheses and canyons carved into his skin.
"Yeah. Gonna be my wife."