Chapter 26

"So you just gave up on it?" Kate fingered the papers she'd found stuffed between two books in the storage ottoman near the couch. She had pulled the story out and glanced over it, asking questions that quickly revealed that it hadn't been forgotten, but neither had it been revisited in quite time. It hadn't seemed like something he would do normally—just leave something unfinished-and that piqued her interest.

"I didn't give up on it per se...I just let it breathe a little..." he hedged, "I didn't want to do the characters a disservice by rushing the story without their input." He ran a hand through his hair and pulled the manuscript from her hands. He couldn't handle it if she thought she'd abandoned something he'd once seen as so important. He still did. He had every intention of finishing it when the RIGHT words would finally decide to come—and you can't just rush a good story, the characters have to speak but-just...time and life had happened and it had gotten shoved to the wayside. And he wanted to explain. He did, but his brain was far too tired to focus on something he'd put down for so long. At least in this moment. She seemed to accept this and pulled it back from his hands, returning it to its place between the two books, but placing the books aside rather than back in storage. This would be a discussion they would return to later.

Wow.

Just.

Wow.

Used to be. That's what she'd said. His brain was stuck on it. Used to be. Meaning at some point in her life, this tradition had ceased to be observed in the Beckett household.

He wasn't stupid.

He'd seen the slight blush on her cheeks when she'd let that little bit of information slip. He'd seen the minor dip of her head and watched as the curtain of her hair momentarily shrouded her face. Noticed the slight hitch of her chest as air was briefly trapped in her lungs as the realization hit her of what she'd said aloud.

He knew what that in all likelihood meant.

But the part that astonished him most was that she'd basically just shared an inimate memory with him. With them. And she hadn't even been properly prodded or cajoled into doing so.

And it was so good.

That meal. This whole experience. It had been SO GOOD. And the festivities had only just begun.

He hadn't even- They were still going to...SO. MUCH. And it was already this good. Better.

Because of Kate.

Because he was freaking love with her.

"Family." They'd all toasted in agreement. Family.

It was quickly what they were becoming.

Dinner had been a wonderful new experience-living someone else's tradition. After a clean-up that involved little more than rinsing and discarding dishware into the dishwasher, everyone had retired to the living room; wanting to neither move much nor leave each others' company. Her grandmother had turned on some soft holiday music. "Perfect for the aid of digestion," she'd said. Kate had taken up what had quickly become her 'spot' on the couch and after a quick exchange with her father, had pulled her legs up and tucked her socked feet between the seat cushion and the back of the couch. Her father had been pacing slightly—obviously distracted—and had finally landed on the couch next to Kate.

As she had done since she was a child, Alexis watched her father's face for direction. Children are imitators.

They watch for social cues.

Appropriate reaction.

Sometimes just guidance in reading a situation.

Alexis had always been fond of people watching. Her father, being who he was, tended to attract a broad spectrum of characters—of the non-literary variety. Alexis had relished the opportunities to study these vibrant and sometimes too-odd-to-be-real people. But even more so, she had enjoyed learning to read her dad. Watching him around people opened more doors of insight than studying him across the thin gree felt on one of their father-daughter poker nights—though those were quite informative as well. She knew his tells, yes.

Probably better than he did himself.

The slight upturn of his lips. A faint tremor above his right eyebrow. The minor sheen in his eyes. They gave away more than he realized, she thought. And the way he looked right now? He was profoundly happy. Proud. But still holding back just in case. The barely there hunch of his shoulders. The nearly impreceptible stiffness of his neck. Almost like he was afraid to allow himself to be happy.

Just in case.

In case something went wrong. In case his brain had somehow scrambled signals (which happpened from time to time). But mostly: In case the other person(s) involved weren't on the same page. She knew from experience that that's what that particular look was. Had been on the receiving end of it more times than she could count.

And now... Now Kate was on the receiving end. She found that she hoped that Kate knew what it meant too and would respond accordingly...

Castle pulled Kate's feet into his lap but went no further than that. His hands clasped and unclasped before resting across her ankles. His thumb stroking softly and seemingly without conscious thought from him. There was a restlessness about him. Not quite nervous, but still. She could tell that his mind was wandering. "Penny for your thoughts?" she asked, lifting a foot to poke his chest with her sock clad toes.

That seemed to help. At least, it brought him back to the present. He smiled more fully and caught said foot, giving it a light squeeze before running his hands up to her calves and back down again.

"You," he said. "Just you."

"Me?"

"You. You amaze me."

"Ya know, for an author you have the remarkable ability to be not-quite-so-eloquent sometimes."

He grinned. "You still love me."

She blinked. Wow. That was...unexpected. Was it really though?

A giggle escaped from the darkened corner of the room, a shy pink face emerged from the shadows illuminated by firelight.

As his words reached his ears Castle felt his brain catch up all too slowly. What had he just done? It was too much. Too soon. At least he had her at a cabin in the woods far far away from most anywhere she could run—he hoped she wouldn't run.

Oh dear God, why had he let his stupid mouth run? He watched in horrific slow motion as her foot dropped to his lap and his entire body seized up as the breath left his lungs.

She blinked slowly. Was she in shock? She didn't run. That was a good sign right? Right?

She didn't run.

Kate blinked and took in a breath. Well, this had to be expected, right? She certainly hadn't been shy about certain things when it came to him out here. In the city? No way in H-E-double hockey sticks she could have...would have been so carefree.

And there it was.

She wasn't carefree. She cared. A great deal. And, she realized, she did love him.

"More than a friend," she startled back. When had she lost all filters?

Oh.

Right.

His fault.

His fault entirely.

But wasn't this interesting. He hadn't moved. Not an inch since he'd uttered...right. Kate recovered more quickly than he and took advantage of his momentary immobility. She pecked him on the lips and slid off of th couch. Martha had disappeared but Kate found Alexis's eyes sparkling in the firelight in the corner of the room. She nodded and shared a small smile which were at once returned in kind.

"More than a friend," she repeated, and headed to the master bedroom.

"DAD! GRAM! KATE! GET OUT HERE!"

His daughter's cry pulled him from the arms of a deep and relaxed sleep. Last night had been magical. And not in the expected way. Dinner...no words. And then the next thing he knew his mouth had run away from him, and then somehow his daughter was shoving him off the couch and towards the bedroom where apparently Kate had disappeared to. How had he not even noticed that she'd gone? And then...

Then.

Then she showed him. She won. If there was a contest, she won. And he knew that she might always win. She'd even win when she would inevitably argue that she couldn't win all the time because 'that just wasn't what made for a healthy relationship, Castle.'

She rolled over and tugged on his arm as she slipped from beneath the covers. When had she gotten dressed? She must have gotten cold because last he could recall she'd been—not nearly as covered.

He swallowed the cotton in his throat and groggily pulled on some pajama pants and a thermal underwear shirt. Her hand came to his and pulled him as his daughter's voice carried more urgently through the cabin, "DAD! YOU HAVE TO SEE THIS! GET OUT HERE!"

They stumbled to a halt in the living room. His chest pressed to Kate's back. Alexis and his mother were wearing twin looks of shock at the bottom of the stairs. And Kate wasn't reacting. Well. She was reacting, but not in the way he'd have expected. She looked from face to face, gauging their reactions, it seemed.

"But this. We were. And you..." his lips tripped over tongue and teeth (and not in the way he preferred).

Her sly grin met his shocked expression and she shrugged. She glanced at grandmother and granddaughter, whose awed and bemused faces beamed back at her.

"H-how?" He finally got out. "You were with me all night."

"This was the way my mom did Christmas, she said softly, "She brought the magic. So, I wanted to do the same." She shrugged and sank back into his embrace.

Wow. "You did. You most certainly did," he said and kissed her temple. What in the world had inspired her to- And when had she even found the time in the scant hours they'd been asleep?

Just.

Wow.

AN: Just want to reiterate:NOT abandoned.