Title: Good For You

Disclaimer: Still squealing over the Caskett kiss...

Summary: When the Dragon is slain, there's just a life to be lived. And sometimes there's more to learn in peace than in war.

Chapter 26:

She's not very good at taking suggestions.

He sits on her bed, watching as she moves around her room, packing a second suitcase while he tries to call out for items of clothing—shirts he's loved, pants that hug her just the right way—ignoring her annoyed glances, which are increasing in frequency.

"Castle," she finally growls when he's pointed to the satin, lacey thing in her closet five times.

"What?" he asks innocently, swinging his legs so they beat against the foot of her bed. "Just trying to be helpful."

She shoots him a look, glaring and still scary even in jeans and a baggy sweatshirt. "Yeah, well, if you really want to help, grab my heels," she directs, jutting her head toward the closet. "Touch the teddy and you die."

"Fine," he sighs, skirting around her to reach into her closet, grabbing a few pairs of heels he knows will go with what she's bringing. The teddy's gorgeous, and he's tempted, so sorely tempted to shove it into her bag without her knowledge. But then again, the surprise might be good.

He decides to leave the lingerie in her more than capable hands and returns to the bed, mentally debating whether he prefers her in lace, or just gloriously nude. She raises her eyebrow as he places the shoes on the bed by her suitcase, seemingly both impressed and slightly repulsed that he knows her that well.

"What?" he asks, sidling up to slide his hands onto her hips as she stands in front of her mirror, packing up cosmetics. She's bringing a lot—enough to keep her for at least a week, maybe two, if he's lucky. "Four years," he murmurs into her ear, delighting as her muscles tense beneath his hands. "I know what you like."

She hums and presses back against him for a moment, before shimmying away. Nude—he likes her gloriously nude. She should be naked right now.

"That you do," she says, winking as she bends over to zip up her suitcase, dropping her make-up kit in with her heels before it's closed, done, finished. She's bringing a bag to his place. Two bags, to be exact.

He nods and stalks toward her, trapping her against her suitcase, lifting her up to sit on top of it, fusing his lips to hers to swallow her squeak of surprise.

"Rick," she protests between wet, sloppy kisses. "We have to go h—your place. Alexis," she manages. But the slip just makes him want to throw her down and have his way with her, or let her—yeah, let her have her way with him. They're home in New York, but she wants to go home with him, and he feels the need to celebrate.

"We've got an hour," he mumbles as he leaves her lips to trail down to the underside of her jaw, to that spot that makes her squirm against him, hands tightening in his hair as her thighs squeeze around his.

"Rick," she says, but it's breathy and getting toward the edge of desperate.

"Wanna make up for this morning," he mumbles into her skin, nipping at her before dragging his lips back to hers.

"Tonight," she gasps, releasing one of her hands to clamp it over his as he tries vainly to get the zipper down on her sweater. "Seriously," she adds, gently removing his hand as she squeezes his neck. "We need to get back to your place. Alexis wants to order in, and who knows if Martha's even been there."

He groans and drops his head to her shoulder. "Why are you so practical?" he grumbles, pulling back to meet her eyes, her flushed cheeks and rosy lips doing absolutely nothing to help calm him down.

"One of us has to be," she shrugs with a smile. "Now, come on, help me get my stuff down to the car. We've been up here for too long anyway."

"Ernie understands," he says dejectedly. "Told me he had a book."

"You told your driver you were planning to seduce me?" she exclaims, whacking at his chest. "Castle!"

He laughs and leans forward to pull her into a kiss, even as she keeps thumping his shoulder. "Kidding," he mumbles.

"You suck," she breathes as they pull apart. "Now you get to take the bag."

He grins, letting her go so she can slip back into her flats as he yanks the suitcase off the bed. "God, what did you pack?"

She laughs and grabs her shoulder bag from the chair in the corner. "It's probably all those jeans I just have to have at your place. And the jackets."

"I like you in leather," he says easily. "I'll deal," he adds, lifting the suitcase with no small amount of effort.

She nods decisively and leads him out of her room, hips swinging because she's evil. But she's playful and relaxed, and he'll take the teasing just for that—for the ease of her smile and the way it makes his chest unclench, makes the questions go quiet. They'll have a nice night with his kid, and maybe his mother, and then move on to what he hopes will be rounds and rounds of fantastic sex. The rest of today looks pretty good.

"Ugh," she groans, arching onto the balls of her feet as they stand in the elevator. "Can we eat standing up?"

"I can think of other things we can do standing up," he tells her neck as he leans down to press his lips to the curve of her throat.

"Down, boy," she mumbles, patting his cheek. "And maybe," she adds, laughing as he fist pumps.

(…)

"Castle," she announces, returning from his bedroom holding a picture of her mother and father he definitely did not add to her suitcase when she wasn't looking, along with a number of books that were on her nightstand. Must have been the other boyfriend.

Alexis looks up from her spot teasing him at the counter as he tries to prove that he can indeed make a decent stir-fry. Take-out his butt. Alexis brought all of the makings for dinner, and considers that take-out, since she's not cooking, and she brought the food.

Though, just looking at the bags under her eyes has him willing to do anything for his baby girl. She doesn't look much like a girl though. This thing, Graham, his mother's death, their relationship—it's changed his daughter. She's grown up, mature, a woman. It scares the crap out of him.

Much more than his girlfriend does at least. Kate's just cute. "What?" he asks innocently as Alexis peers at the picture.

"Is that your mom?" she asks quietly.

Kate nods and comes to sit next to his daughter, gently passing her the frame. Alexis takes it with reverence, her long curtain of red hair falling to hide her face as she examines the picture.

"You brought it?" she asks softly.

"Your dad did," Kate supplies. "I was packing a bag, and a number of things suspiciously found their way in there."

"Nothing that was expressly off limits," he tosses out quickly. "Didn't break any rules."

"Uh-huh," Kate replies, giving him a look. He has no idea what this one means, but both of them turn back to Alexis before he can decide. She places the frame on the counter, scraping her hair out of her tired face.

"She's beautiful," Alexis says, smiling wearily. "Your parents looked happy."

"They were," Kate tells his daughter, reaching out to smooth her hand through the girl's—woman's—hair, shockingly intimate and familial and motherly.

He sinks back against the far counter to watch them, blown away by the trust in his daughter's eyes. Alexis smiles at his girlfriend, leaning into her touch as Kate briefly cups her cheek.

"So you packed a bag?" Alexis asks when Kate's hand falls away, both of them turning back to the photo.

"Yeah," Kate says softly. "That," she pauses and looks at Alexis. "That okay?"

Alexis snaps her gaze to Kate, mouth open in shock while he just tries to wrap his head around the picture, around this pair of women across from him. He doesn't think anyone but him has ever asked his daughter if she's okay with something like this.

"Of course," Alexis says slowly. "I mean, even if I didn't want—which I don't—I'm not, I don't live here," she explains, blushing faintly. "But of course you should be here if you want to be. I mean, I'm," she turns and looks over at him. "I'm shocked you don't have boxes here or something."

He coughs and Kate stiffens on the other side of the counter. They stare at each other as Alexis grins.

"Dad, you're burning dinner."

"Crap," he lets out, surging forward.

"How close are we?" Kate asks after a silent minute of watching him toss the vegetables and hold the pan away from the burner to make sure everything doesn't blacken.

"Five minutes?" he replies distractedly. Bless cooking—he can pretend that his daughter did not just interrupt the delicate balance they've had going on.

Kate stands and passes him, squeezing his forearm as she goes for three plates while Alexis joins her to fill cups. He's not sure he can remember the balance. Balance, cowardice, idiocy? She's already said she's in, for the long haul. And he's been in since, well, longer than is truly flattering.

"Dad, I can see smoke coming from your ears," Alexis says breezily. "Try to just fry dinner."

Kate laughs and bumps the girl's hip as they set the counter, opting for casual in place of formal tonight. He glares at both of them but can't quite keep it up, not when Alexis starts asking Kate about bangs and layers, and should she cut her hair. He listens with half of his attention as he finishes off dinner, splitting the pan onto their three plates while the women sit. His mother is—somewhere. But she said she was doing well. He's content with his girls, women. Damn.

"This is wonderful," Kate says as he sits on her other side, leaving her squashed between two Castles. She doesn't seem to mind.

"You sound surprised," he says as he takes a bite, groaning around his own good cooking.

"You haven't cooked for me in almost a month," she argues while Alexis chuckles into her water.

"It's not like pre-calculus," he grumbles. "I remember."

"Yes you do," she says evenly, patting his hand, patronizing him, and he's so happy that he doesn't care. Sick. It's sick.

"When do you go back to work, Kate?" Alexis asks after a few silent minutes of eating and groaning over his rather fabulous meal.

He watches Kate swallow thickly, taking a large sip of water to follow her food as she struggles for words. He'd jump in, but it's not his choice, not his call, and he wants to let her answer—let her tell his kid. It's a step, he thinks, right? Telling people you have a problem, if that's what she's going to do. Something like that, anyway—she should share with the people she's close to.

"I had a mandated month that's up on Monday," she says softly. "But I think I—I'm not quite ready yet, so I'm going to take another week or two."

Her hand finds his, gripping into the meat of his thumb hard enough that he has to bite his lip to stall his protests. But anchor he can be. He'll just look at it as practice for…something he really, really should not be thinking about right now.

"Oh," Alexis says quietly. "That—that makes sense."

"I'm not—I don't know how much your dad has actually told you about the last year," Kate begins. He squeezes her hand as Alexis meets her gaze, startled.

"Some," she hedges. "I wasn't, um—you know I wasn't so happy with him, you guys, uh—"

"I know," Kate says quickly, brushing it aside. "I got that, remember?"

"Yeah," Alexis mumbles. "I'm sorry for, you know, yelling," she adds.

Kate shakes her head with a small smile. "Water so long under the bridge."

"You guys made up before we did," he interjects.

Alexis laughs quietly. "There really isn't such a thing as perfect, is there?"

Kate chuckles and shakes her head. "Sorry, but no."

He goes to protest, but thinks better of it almost instantly. He likes his rose-colored glasses, but they've given him two failed marriages, and even though things with Kate are fantastic, they're not perfect. She has PTSD, and he has something PTSD-like, and they squabble constantly, and he has a feeling that at some point, they'll probably really rip into each other again. Perfect, they are not.

"But that doesn't mean imperfect can't be pretty close," he says, smiling as Kate's hand unfurls to thread her fingers through his. "Keeps it interesting."

"Yeah, interesting," Kate parrots, half teasing, half accepting.

Alexis bobs her head. "You were talking about this year?"

Kate sighs softly and nods. "Yeah. I don't know if Castle ever mentioned that I have—uh, I have," she pauses and takes a deep breath, straightening up in her chair. "I have PTSD."

"Oh," Alexis says quietly. "I—I had no idea."

Kate smiles and briefly touches his daughter's hand where her fingers are twitching, fighting against reaching out herself. Kate has fallen into their family, and they hug, they touch. She's, well, she's amazing, adaptive, and reaching out for his kid, who's so grown up, but still a kid all the same.

"Not something I think I'd have been comfortable talking about," Kate consoles her. "But since the—since we closed my mom's case, it's come back. It was better for a while," she adds. "And it's getting better." She looks to him for confirmation and all he can do is lean forward to press his lips to her temple in affirmation. She's not better, but she's getting there. "But I can't knowingly go out into the field with it like this."

"That's smart, good," Alexis manages. "So, you—desk job, or just, nothing for now?"

"Nothing for now," Kate replies.

He watches as Alexis nods slowly, almost dejectedly. Oh. "But we'll still stop by, pumpkin," he puts in, feeling Kate's fingers tighten around his in understanding.

"How much have you been at the Precinct?" she asks his daughter.

"Four days a week," she mumbles.

"Alexis," he sighs. That's too much with her workload. Way too much. "Honey, why?"

"Graham decided to stay another week at home, and I just—" she breaks off, shrugging. "It's been nice."

Kate nods in understanding. "It's safe," she offers, smiling as Alexis nods. "But are you—Castle's right, that's a huge load."

"Haven't been sleeping much anyway," Alexis admits.

"Oh, kiddo," he says, watching as his daughter just shakes her head, hands twisting on the counter in the bare space where she pushed her plate away.

"I'm okay," she insists. "I'm doing great in classes. As on my midterms."

"Alexis," he gasps, releasing Kate to stand and move to wrap his kid in a bear hug. "Oh, I am so proud of you!" he tells the top of her head before planting a messy kiss to her hair.

She laughs softly as he releases her, eyes a little shiny. "Thanks, Dad."

"Don't thank me!" he scoffs. "This calls for ice cream. Do we have ice cream?" he asks, not directing the question at either of them.

"Pretty sure we finished the last carton before we left," Kate tells him. "And congratulations, Alexis. That's wonderful."

"Thanks," Alexis says quietly, squeezing Kate's hand. "So, you know, I think the internship is good, at least until—when Graham gets back, I'll see."

Kate nods before he has a chance to comment, and the look she shoots him speaks of experience. He sighs. He's not going to win this one. How can he even argue? His kid has As at Columbia and is concurrently holding up four days a week with Lanie. Super kid—she's a super kid, a wunderkind.

"Sounds like a plan," he manages.

Alexis smiles and leans her head onto her hand, watching as he sits back down beside Kate. "Do you have any plans for your time off?" she asks, withholding a yawn.

"Don't know," Kate replies. "We've been starting to plan my mom's benefit dinner, so I'll probably work on that. Your dad needs to keep writing."

"Hey!" he exclaims, nudging her. "I'm two-thirds of the way done, and Gina's perfectly happy."

Alexis laughs and shakes her head as Kate sighs. "Are they still in Paris?" she asks, craning around Kate, who shoots him a surprised look.

"Alexis looks over my outlines sometimes," he explains while Alexis grins. "She's, uh, helped me nix some of my lesser ideas over the years."

"As well as catching all of the theirs that should be they'res," his daughter comments slyly.

"Yes, yes, no spell check is as good as you," he agrees grudgingly.

"Are they though?" Alexis asks, eyes wide. "You didn't decide to—"

"Hey, spoilers," he cuts in, pointing to Kate. "Some people want to be surprised."

"Oh," Alexis says, clearly shocked. "Right. Never mind."

Kate laughs and relaxes in her chair. "No harm done. But save your insight, okay? I may change my mind."

"And you wouldn't come to me?" he gasps, mock-outraged.

"Alexis will be more impartial," Kate shrugs, shooting him a grin as she pats his thigh. Alexis laughs and shakes her head, standing to collect their dishes.

"Honey, you don't need to—" She cuts him off with a look.

"You cooked, I'll clean, and Kate can sit, since she's still a guest here."

He scowls but Kate perks up, sending him a sly smile. "So if I never move in, I'm let out of cleaning duties?"

Alexis spins around and meets his girlfriend's eyes. "Huh, I take it back. Since you're a guest, you're not allowed to clean, but you're also not allowed to, um," she glances to him for help and he grapples with his food-sated mind.

"Not allowed to know Nikki Heat secrets or enjoy the amenities of the, um—" Damn. He can't forbid her the bath, because he likes taking them with her. And she'll want to use the weight room upstairs until she's back at the precinct; she shouldn't bother paying for a gym. He wants her in his bed, and if she's hiding piano skills, he wants to hear them.

No way are they forbidding her from laser tag. Jeez.

"Uh-huh," she says smugly, standing to squeeze his shoulders. "On that note, I'm going to unpack my bags a little." She saunters away, leaving Alexis laughing in her wake as he frowns. What can he use as an incentive now?

"Don't worry, Dad," Alexis says, calling him out of his thoughts.

"Hmm?"

"She'll move in. Did you ask?"

He meets his daughter's eyes, so full of trust and tired happiness, for him. He shakes his head. No, of all the questions, he never did ask that one. "We should wait a little," he tells her. "Rushing things, even good things—"

"Just don't wait another four years, okay?" she interrupts with a sigh. "I don't want to have kids before you."

He nearly chokes on his own tongue, coughing fiercely enough to call Kate back from his bedroom, concern on her face. Alexis giggles as his girlfriend walks up to rub his back.

"What happened?"

"I upset his fragile paternal sensibilities," Alexis offers glibly while Kate laughs at him.

"Marriage or babies?" Kate asks, nodding in understanding as her hand strays up to toy with the hairs at the nape of his neck.

"Babies," Alexis replies, grinning at his girlfriend.

"S'just not funny," he argues, getting his breath back. "Right?" he asks, hoping, just this once, Kate will side with him.

"Of course not," she says, practically cooing at him.

He scowls at her and shakes her off, standing as she laughs. He bumps Alexis out of the way and nods his head toward Kate. "Go help your stepmother unpack," he directs, grinning as he hears Kate splutter.

Alexis shoves him as she makes her way to Kate, the two of them whispering as they head back toward his room. Yeah, they better run.

(…)

"Is she really okay?" he asks as he stares at the closed door, his daughter already heading back to school while Kate brings their ice cream bowls back to the kitchen. They sent him out for food and he brought back four kinds of ice cream. A little much, but they devoured two containers without shame.

"She is," Kate assures him, returning to take his hand and lead him gently back toward his bedroom. "Sad and tired, but she's okay."

"You okay?" he murmurs, following her through his dark office and into his room.

She hums her consent, leaving him in the doorway as she pads over to the dresser, reaching into the top drawer for a tank top. He watches as she reaches into his underwear drawer and retrieves a pair of boxers, already at home in his room—their room, if the pictures and sweaters and make-up on his bureau are anything to go by.

"You?" she asks, turning to watch as he sinks onto the bed with a sigh.

"Tired," he admits, stretching out and beckoning toward her. She smiles and drops the clothes on the bureau before sliding up the bed to curl into his body, her lips warm against his chest.

"Your daughter is either exceedingly blunt, or desperate for siblings," she says after a quiet minute.

He chuckles, running his fingers through her hair as she shakes out her braid. "Excited, I think," he decides. "Did she say something else to you?"

Kate shakes her head against him slowly, like she might not be telling him the whole truth. "No. It was nice to see her, though." Girl talk, or something right? He has to honor that.

"Yeah," he agrees with a sigh. "You sure you're up for dinner with Graham at the end of the week?"

"Of course," she says softly.

He chews on his bottom lip, weighing his next words. "It's not going to be too much?"

She sighs against him and slides her bare foot up his calf. "I have an appointment with Burke on Friday anyway," she mumbles.

"Oh," he says, stalling his hand to cup the base of her skull.

"You should come to that one, if you want." He watches as her brow wrinkles, her breath fanning warm against his tee shirt, toes inching up and down his leg.

"Sure," he says gently. "Sounds good."

She nods and they fall silent, comfortable, like they're just at another hotel, another night on the road. But they're not. They're in his bed, with her things all over the room—with the recollection of his daughter's teasing spinning around them. She's soft along his side and her fingers trail up and down his chest, reminding him that home or not, they're still them, and they still have a morning to make up for.

He tugs gently on her until she slides up his chest so he can rise up to meet her in a kiss, cradling her head in his hands as she relaxes above him, supple and hot.

"Not so tired anymore?" she mumbles into his mouth, swallowing his gasp as her fingers stray down his torso.

"I think," he says around air and lips and her devious tongue. "I think you promised me some making up—last day and all."

"Oh, did I?" she simpers, scratching her nails back up his chest.

"You did," he insists against her mouth before he rolls them over, grinning at her shriek of surprise. He takes a moment to lave at her pulse, before he pulls back, taking her hands and tugging her up. She watches him with heavily lidded eyes, asks no questions, just lets him back her up into the bathroom door.

"Bed not good enough?" she mumbles against his mouth as she hikes her leg up around his hip, hand gripping at his shoulders as his palm her hips.

"Something 'bout standing," he grunts back, hefting her up so her legs wrap around his hips, groaning as she nips at his lip, her breath fast and throat humming as he shifts with her wrapped around him.

"Welcome home indeed," she breathes as he breaks away to trail his lips down her neck.

"Shh," he presses into her throat.

"Don't tell me to be quiet," she argues, gripping at his hair with one hand while she tries to lift his shirt off with her other.

He grins as they divest him of his shirt, meeting her eyes, both of them bright and alert and still happy—still in love and lust and insane, here, pressed up against his bathroom door.

"I take it back," he says as he takes in her flushed skin, plump lips, brilliant smile. She laughs and pulls him back in for another kiss, tightening her legs around him. "Be loud. No neighbors."