This chapter is shameless fluff. After the rape case file, I figured they needed a night off (me too). Apologies for the error near the end of this chapter. Thank you to Caskett1 for pointing it out. This copy replaces the original chapter 50.
Disclaimer: Characters are the property of Andrew Marlowe and the team.
Chapter 50
"Castle, just throw a couple of things in a bag. It's one night. You're not moving in," said Kate, as she sat on the end of his bed watching him, while he stood staring aimlessly into his closet.
"You're rushing me," he complained.
"Well, I wouldn't be if you weren't being such a girl," said Kate, rolling her eyes. "I've been living between your loft and my apartment for over two weeks. You don't see me stressing out over which shirt to wear. Well, do you?" she asked, when he continued to ignore her as he rifled through hanger after hanger of expensive dress shirts, all freshly laundered and hung in color order.
"I'm packing for two nights, just in case," he said, finally pulling four shirts out of the closet and carrying them over to the bed. "Help me fold?" he asked, thrusting two of the hangers towards her.
"Why two nights? I said one, and the way I pictured it, you aren't exactly going to need any clothes, Castle," confessed Kate. "Besides, you'll be back here before you know it."
"Not necessarily true," he said, enigmatically, as Kate watched him rather expertly smooth and fold a deep purple, stripe shirt, which he had laid down flat on the bed.
"Okay, Castle. I'm not following you. So just spit it out. Whatever little riddle you're trying to tease me with," said Kate, with patient amusement.
"Well, the way I figure it, this is essentially a second go round at our first time, and since our actual first time came on the back of a pretty heated argument, I was hoping that christening your apartment might be something of a memorable experience for both of us and that maybe…" he smiled a secret smile, and started folding again.
"Maybe…?" prompted Kate, quirking her eyebrow, definitely curious to see where this was going. She pursed her lips in amusement waiting for his reply.
"You might ask me to stay more than one night," he said, with an adorable grin.
"Oh really? You did?" asked Kate, grinning back at him, while still holding the two hangers he'd handed her, shirts and all. "What if I told you that my boyfriend, my rather large and powerful, angry boyfriend gets back tomorrow night. What then, huh? Would you fight for me, Ricky?" teased Kate, laughing when Castle pirouetted away from his underwear drawer carrying a pile of boxers and socks that definitely looked adequate for more than two nights, with an indignant look on his face.
"Just shut up and fold, Kate," said Castle, nodding at the two shirts still dangling from the end of her fingers.
"Castle, I'm a cop, not your mother. You fold," she said, thrusting the shirts against his chest, a move he recoiled from in case they wrinkled.
Kate left the bedroom in search of some clothing of her own from the guest room upstairs.
"You're also my girlfriend, Kate. Folding's part of the deal," he yelled after her.
"Not if you want to see the 'seashore' tonight, it's not," she called back. "Now, hurry up!"
o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o
When they got to Kate's apartment, though still at ease and comfortable with one another, the teasing and banter had dried up. Castle's mention of re-living their first time was suddenly weighing on both of them, loaded as it was with expectation and no small amount of pressure, and so they were silent as they approached Kate's front door.
Kate fumbled her key in the lock, suddenly a little nervous, her fingers refusing to obey. Castle reached around her, put his hand over hers, large and warm. He stilled her movement, and they unlocked the door together.
"Nice symbolism," said Kate, running her hand down his lapel, before tugging him in after her.
"Sorry, occupational hazard," explained Castle.
"A lot nicer than some of mine," replied Kate, kissing him lightly on the corner of his mouth.
Castle was carrying a brown leather weekend bag with both his and Kate's clothes inside. He did as instructed, and took the bag through to Kate's bedroom to unpack.
Once over the threshold, he paused to enjoy a moment alone in Kate's private space, to take in the cool sophistication and easy femininity of her room. The décor was modern, edgy even, the room uncluttered by frills or girlish adornments. Rather, like the woman herself, it was stylish, cultured and grown-up.
"There are some spare hangers in my closet," yelled Kate from the kitchen, where she was opening a bottle of wine.
Castle carefully unpacked his shirts, a pair of jeans, his underwear and washbag. A couple of Kate's tops and a small bundle of her underwear were lying near the bottom of the bag. He lifted these out and placed them on the bed, delving back in to retrieve one of her bras, which was hiding in a dark corner, when he heard a small rattling sound as something skidded out of the cup of the black bra that he was holding in his hand. He reached back in to retrieve the item – a pale pink clamshell case containing her contraceptive pills.
This was how Kate found him when she popped her head around the door – standing at the bottom of her bed, with her bra in one hand and her pills in the other.
"Castle, what are you doing?" she asked quietly, startling him enough that he practically threw both items onto the bed in a rush of misplaced guilt.
"I uh…eh…unpacking?" he said uncertainly, his answer coming out like more of a question than a statement. "What are these?" he asked, when he got his wits about him, picking up the little box and holding it out to her.
"They're…what do you think they are, Castle? Protection," she said, a little embarrassed and a little cross that he was putting her on the spot.
"Were these in my bathroom…because…?"
Shit, he really wasn't going to let this go. Kate wanted to hide. Hide from her own stupidity, and the awkward questions she knew were about to follow.
"Because?" she prompted, employing a delaying tactic she often used in interrogations to give her time to think of an acceptable answer. But nothing was springing to mind. Kate was quietly freaking out and her brain was freezing up.
"Because I haven't seen them before, and I just wondered…since we never actually got around to talking about this stuff…so, bathroom?"
"Eh, no," answered Kate, shaking her head, her cheeks now a little warm.
"Nightstand?"
"No…look…" said Kate, rubbing a hand nervously over her face.
"Have you even been taking these, Kate? Because I'm pretty sure the only other place they could have been is the guest room, and since you stayed here last night…"
"Okay, I might have forgotten to take a few," she admitted in a rush.
"And…how many is a few?" asked Castle, swallowing hard enough for Kate to see from her position by the door.
"Oh God Castle, I have no idea," she admitted, flopping down on the edge of the bed with her head in her hands. "I'm an idiot," she muttered through her fingers.
Castle walked around the bed to sit down beside her. He lifted her hair back over her shoulder and smoothed his hand down the line of her back. He had his mouth against her shoulder when he said quietly, "You're not an idiot. I'm an idiot, a selfish one. I'm sorry," he said, squeezing her thigh.
Kate sat up straight, twisting round on the bed to look at him, drawing her knees up as she placed a cool hand on his thigh.
"Okay, want to tell me why you're a selfish idiot?" she asked in a small voice.
"Because I left the matter of protection totally up to you. We never talked about it, I just selfishly assumed. In fact, I don't think I even cared, and that was wrong. I'm sorry."
"Okay," said Kate, squeezing his fingers.
"How much trouble are we in?" he asked, a sheepish grin on his face. "Do you even know?"
"I've lost track," admitted Kate, shaking her head and biting her lip. "I missed a couple after I got injured at the gala and then I was back here for a couple of nights, and…hell, who am I kidding, we've basically been having unprotected sex for days, Rick. I'm so sorry. I told you I was an idiot," said Kate, hiding her face in her hands once more.
"Hey," said Castle, soothing her. "It's not the end of the world. Hmm? What's the worst that can happen? We make a little you and me. Definitely not the worst thing in the world," he added, gently pulling her hands away from her face to draw her to him for a deep, lingering kiss.
When they pulled apart, Kate rested her hand over his heart.
"Yet another thing we haven't talked about. We're sleepwalking through this like a couple of feckless teens. You'd be disappointed in Alexis if she behaved like this," said Kate, pointing to herself.
"Kate, you're not my daughter, you're my partner, in every sense of the word. I could never be disappointed in you…for long," he added, just to make her laugh. "We'll figure this stuff out. Don't worry. A couple of awkward conversations and we'll have it all straight. How about this?" he asked, after a pause. "You go back on the pill for now, and then, when we go away on vacation we talk about it some more."
"And what if it's already too late?" asked Kate, sounding a little panicked.
"Then we'd be blessed. No such thing as too late, Kate. Not the way I feel about you. Never too late," he said, tenderly tucking her hair behind her ear.
o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o
They ordered Thai food and drank good wine. Castle made Kate laugh at some really crummy jokes until her stomach muscles hurt and her cheeks ached. Secrets were shared, childhood fears revealed and embarrassing moments relived amidst gales of unrestrained laughter.
They made out on her couch, slowly and languorously, and it all felt so right, and so easy. They left the case alone, finding no need for a work-based excuse to spend time together anymore. They were just them – Kate and Rick – and Kate silently kicked herself for holding them back from this life for so long. Castle just thanked his lucky stars that they'd gotten here in the end.
"Feel a little better?" he asked eventually, walking his fingers along her shoulder to the nape of her neck, where he began to knead the tight muscles he found there.
"You're good medicine, Castle. Yeah, I feel better. You?"
"After that case file today, hanging out with you, watching you laugh, that was just what I needed. Thank you."
"More wine?" asked Kate, getting up to go to the kitchen.
"Please. How'd you think Alexis is doing?" he asked, frowning for the first time in over an hour as he checked his phone.
"I'm sure she's having a ball. But why don't you call her if you're worried?" suggested Kate, as she topped up their glasses.
"No. No, I'm the cool dad remember? Calling her when she's in D.C. with her boyfriend would not be considered cool. You think I should call?" he asked after a pause, a little unsure and looking to Kate for guidance.
"She'll either answer or she won't, Castle. Or you could text her. That'd be reasonable."
Kate sank down onto the couch, snuggling in beside him, her head resting against his shoulder, one hand on his thigh. Castle kissed her temple, slipped his arm around her back, toying lazily with a fat, shiny, curl of her hair, and they sat in comfortable silence for a couple of minutes, just watching the blue-grey flicker of the TV as some long forgotten show played on without them.
Eventually, he whispered in her ear, "You'll make a great mom," and Kate smiled.
"Will? That sounds suspiciously like a statement of fact, Castle. I thought we were just going to talk about it?"
"Yeah. Sorry. Just…I got pictures," he murmured into her hair, sending a shiver down her spine.
"You've got pictures? What kind of pictures?"
"Vivid ones."
"Right. And you want to share?"
"Hmmm. I'm not being fair. That would be kind of an ambush. I said we'd wait until we went away, put all this nasty case stuff behind us."
"Newsflash, Castle. In case you hadn't figured it out yet, nasty stuff is kind of our life. Babies or not, it's still gonna be there when we come back from vacation. So, come on. Spill. Describe these pictures for me," said Kate, settling in against him and preparing for a story from her favorite storyteller.
Castle stroked her hair, wrapped an arm around her stomach as she rested back against his chest, her legs stretched out along the couch. He leant over to speak quietly into the crown of her head, the low rumble of his voice sending light vibrations through her skull and into her brain. Lulling her.
"I see you lying in our bed. It's early on a Saturday morning and the sun is streaming in, warming the room and gilding the sheets. Oh, you look so beautiful, Kate, with your hair fanned out across the pillow and your face so peaceful."
Kate moaned when Castle slipped his warm hand under her shirt to lay flat against her smooth stomach before continuing the story.
"I'm sitting right next to you, cradling our tiny infant against my chest. He's a little squirming ball of terry cloth, all warm and milky sweet, with dark, dark hair and big hazel eyes."
"He?" murmured Kate, smiling at the thought. The thought of a little boy, a mini Castle, and she twined her fingers with his.
"Shhh," whispered Castle, his fingers flexing against her stomach, feeling the flutter of her muscles there. "You'll break the magic. So, anyway, your son starts to squeak and fuss. His little rosebud mouth opens to reveal his tiny pink tongue, poking out hungrily in search of his mamma."
Kate sighed, and her eyes closed to imagine the fairy story she was listening to.
"I hate having to wake you, but little man needs fed and daddy's pinky isn't going to cut it for much longer, so I reach over to gently kiss you awake, just like this," said Castle, leaning down over her, only to find that Kate had fallen fast asleep on top of him, before he could even get to the end of the tale.
Her hand was resting on top of his, against the bare, soft skin of her belly, and he stared at the imagine for a long time, watching the rise and fall as she breathed. Oh how much pleasure he could take from just watching Kate Beckett breathe.
And he is so, so thankful that they've made it this far, when he calculates the risks they take everyday on the job.
So he sends up a prayer, asking god for as many blank pages as he can spare. And he wonders if, or even when, they might turn the page, and write the story he's just imagined for real.
Thoughts?
