Very Castle Celebrations
Chapter 27
Kate drops her purse on the floor and sinks down on the couch. Castle hunkers down in front of her. "Looks like your grilling of Ben Cordwainer went up in smoke."
Kate shoves her hair behind her ear. "There was really no Ben Cordwainer to grill, Castle. When I got to his apartment, his sister answered the door. She warned me that I wouldn't be able to get much out of him. He didn't look dull, you know like people do when they're on heavy meds. His eyes were bright, too bright. He couldn't wait to talk about John Dolan, how he had destroyed his family's home. He kept repeating it over and over again. But he kept forgetting who I was. When his sister brought in some coffee, he asked who she was, too. It's like his brain is stuck in a loop. He has his obsession with Dolan, but he can't keep anything else in his mind. And when I started to leave, he looked at me with this weird grin, like an actor would use to audition to play the Joker and said, 'I took care of it.' I asked what he took care of, but he just asked me my name again. Castle he did it, and for at least a moment he knew he did it."
Castle tries to be of some comfort, sitting beside Kate and taking her hand in his, but a question hangs in the air. "So what are you going to do?"
"Castle I have to report what I heard from Cordwainer, but chances are a judge would take about 30 seconds to decide he's not fit to stand trial - if the case ever makes it to court. Could be, the D.A. will decide that bringing charges would be a waste of time and resources. And he'd probably be right. Cordwainer's already in a prison worse than any the state could condemn him to. From what his sister told me, the doctors think he's going downhill fast. She'll have to put him in a facility soon, probably a locked one."
Castle wraps his arms around Kate. "I guess you could call that Karma, but it doesn't change the fact that John Dolan could have done a lot more building - and good building- for this city, and he never got the chance. It's not fair."
Kate closes her eyes and lets her head sink into his shoulder. "Castle, when you're a cop, you lose any illusions that the world is fair before you finish your rookie year."
He presses a kiss to her temple. "But the city still has you to make it just a little fairer. Listen, you need some distraction. Sha-na-na is singing in Central Park tonight. The band still has three original members and can rock out pretty spectacularly. We can take Jackson. He might even enjoy it. Some of that doo-wop sounds like his kind of language.
Castle can see a smile tugging at the corners of Kate's mouth. "Sure, Babe, sounds like fun. But I want hot dogs from the vendor at the entrance to the park - with hot mustard."
He agrees that it sounds like a plan. And Jackson just might want to get his gums around a New York soft pretzel.
Kate settles against Castle's chest with a purr of contentment. "Tonight was fun, Babe. Sometimes I forget that New Yorkers can actually get along. But with everyone caught up in the music the way they were at the park, the audience almost seemed like one huge family."
Castle believes that at least his own family group was transported by the hypnotic beat of the oldies rock and roll. Jackson didn't cry the entire time the band was singing. He was waving his hands and feet to the music and even seemed to be cooing along at times. It took a while to get the baby settled after they returned to the loft, but it took some time for Castle's excitement to die down as well.
Now, with Kate against his body, he can feel another kind of excitement building that involves the need for rhythm but doesn't require any singing. Experimentally, he allows the tips of his fingers to trace her curves. As she pushes herself upward, he can see her mouth open hungrily. The tip of her tongue circles her lips before she presses them to his, her tongue probing deeply to capture his. He rolls her beneath him, supporting himself on his arms. Her breasts are jutting upward, brushing against him. She gasps at the contact, even through layers of fabric.
He rolls again, bringing her with him until they are on their sides facing each other. He pushes back her hair and frames her face in his palms, bringing his lips to hers once more. She presses against him; soft but demanding against his growing hardness. He can feel her fingers brushing his skin; first up and down his back under his pajama top, then lower, her hand finding its way beneath his waistband to push his bottoms down.
He counters, slipping her gown from her shoulders and unclasping the nursing bra she still wears. He tastes the sweet flesh of the badges of her motherhood. She gasps, grinding against him. "Castle!"
His explorations lead where Kate is hot, wet and open. She takes matters into her own hand, to guide him within. Her legs wrap around his back urging him deeper inside, even as their mouths collide once more, tongues parrying and retreating. His hips move of their own accord, as the friction feeds a burgeoning blaze. He is on the edge as she contracts around him. They are plunging over the cliff together. He can feel her clinging to him as they fall limp against the sheets. Like a surrounding fog, slumber covers them in its gentle cloak.
Halloween is coming, and Castle isn't ready. Normally by this time, he would have made his pilgrimage to the pumpkin patch to pick out the best orange treasures to carve into phantasmagorical creations. Between keeping up with his writing and keeping up with Jackson, he's barely had time to think about preparations for the spooky holiday. Jackson seems to have skipped crawling in favor of scooting along on his bottom, and for the past couple of weeks has also been pulling himself up on the coffee table to cruise.
Even with the care Castle took to babyproof the house, there always seems to be something for his son to get into. For some reason, Jackson seemed to think The Ledger would taste good. Castle might have guessed from how much Jackson enjoyed Sha-na-na that the baby would embrace toys that make noise - the louder, the better. Bells, whistles, animal sounds, he likes them all, and especially loves the bang and rattle when he kicks against the bars of his crib. His son's enjoyment of cacophony doesn't make drafting his tale go any faster, but the upside is that Castle always knows where Jackson is - and quietude is a pretty good sign that the boy is actually asleep. It is blessedly quiet now, and Castle is making a list of all the things he'll need before the ghosts and goblins - or more likely characters from the Marvel universe - haunt the halls of the building. Jack-o-lanterns to glow in the loft's tall windows are important, but stocking in the right candy is essential. He has a reputation to maintain in the neighborhood. Casa Castle has always been the best stop ever, for trick-or-treaters. Nothing should change that.
