Misconception
X
Really?
"We're just going to make dinner and pretend like this never happened?" he mutters to her.
Kate pushes him off her, sliding around the kitchen island with plates in her hands. "Hush. Your mother is excited for us. We're celebrating."
He narrows his eyes. "Are we, though?"
Too soon for jokes; she took it wrong. He can see that immediately, and he chases after her, that sudden drop in her eyes - from amusement to blankness. Reserve.
"I just meant," he says, taking the plates from her and setting them himself, "that I can think of much better ways to celebrate."
"But dinner will be nice," she says, heading back to the kitchen.
Don't begrudge me my coping mechanisms, she threw back at him once. And his are different, his are dumb jokes and comments, and when she's in the mood, she's really in the mood, but when she's not-
He has the power to hurt her feelings pretty badly.
And that seems like such a new thing, a revelation. But obviously it's not. Obviously she's been smoothing over her hurts for a long, long time.
That's depressing.
His mother has abandoned them only for a moment, leaving Kate and him to finish the stir fry. The chicken has had time to get cold, but he dutifully follows her lead, scooping the chicken into the vegetables and turning up the heat to get things going.
He really just wants her alone again.
But he gets the idea that Kate wants a chance to regain her equilibrium, and she deserves that, even if Castle is pretty sure that means less fun down the road. Well, to be honest, he has no idea, does he? They've had one night and it was definitely fun, but it was also in the middle of a lot of not talking, and maybe giving themselves a moment to adjust is the best way to go.
"Can you hand me the soy sauce?" he says. She gives it over almost before he can get the question out, and he pours only a little into the skillet, letting the vegetables soak up the juice, mixing it with the wok. Kate brushes past his back to get glasses out of the cabinet, and he feels the warmth of her body, the trail of her fingers as she maneuvers around him.
She doesn't have to maneuver, his kitchen is plenty big enough. But she's touching him anyway.
Actions speak louder than words. Being a man of words, that's not his favorite aphorism; he enjoys its opposite: the pen is mightier than the sword. But not with Kate. With Kate, her actions speak volumes, and eloquently, and he let himself forget that for a little while, let himself think her actions were open to his rose-colored interpretation.
"You want wine?" she says. "I'll just have water."
His throat closes up. She's having water. "Do you want me to?" he says finally, turning to look at her.
She looks caught. So confused.
"And caffeine - coffee," he adds.
Her face is crestfallen.
"Sorry," he says softly. "But I think you can have a little. Just - not your usual."
"Eight cups," she tries to laugh.
"Eight?" He raises an eyebrow.
She huffs. "Ten or so." Chewing on her lip. "You'll still bring me coffee, though?"
"Always," he says immediately.
Her cheeks flush. "Then what did you mean do I want you too?"
"Oh. I won't drink - or coffee - if you can't either. I-"
"Don't be stupid," she mutters, scowling. "We shouldn't both be punished."
He does laugh at that, but then he thinks about her, about Kate, and the solidarity they've managed to build despite everything. How he accomplished it over the years, finding his way in her good graces, into the light of that smile.
"No," he says then. "Partners."
Pink suffuses her neck again and she comes up against him just like that, releasing the wine glass to the counter so she can huddle at his chest, tucked into him. He lets go of the wok and wraps his arms around her, astonished, just completely astonished with where they are and how far they've come since - since this morning.
He puts his mouth down near her ear. "I'll bring you half decaf in the morning, space it out. Or we can make it here, if you're - when you're here." When, he thinks, forcing himself to be positive.
"You always bring me my coffee," she mumbles. "It wouldn't look right if you didn't. Everyone would know." I want you too. Unspoken, but there in the closeness of her body to his, the seeking-shelter way she curls up.
"Well, they're - going to know," he chuckles. "Sooner or later."
Kate doesn't speak to that, and then he realizes they haven't talked about it at all - what to tell other people or when or how. The precinct will have to know, have to, because a pregnancy is - surely there are rules about it? And maternity leave. And-
Kate shrugs him off, backing away, and he drops his arms even as his heart drops a little as well. All the things they haven't talked about and how much more fighting he'll have to do, scratching and clawing his way into her life even still. He doesn't know what to say to even start.
But Kate is nodding over his shoulder, and he turns to see his mother coming back down the stairs, changed for dinner. He sighs and gives up the idea of an honest conversation, but he'll have to figure out a way to broach the subject.
Even though he doesn't want to. "Almost ready, Mother," he says instead, lifting his voice. "Kate, can you get out a serving bowl?"
She doesn't do talking. She doesn't even now. They've made eye contact and she follows through on his request, but she doesn't give out a meaningless, sure or coming right up; she just silently opens a cabinet and gets the bowl, gives it to him.
But that says something, doesn't it? It's not a no.
He dishes out their meal into the bowl, sets it aside to put the skillet in the sink and rinse it out. He lets the white noise of water blur his thoughts, but he reminds himself that they are getting somewhere. They just discussed giving up caffeine and alcohol and how he's going to be her partner in that too and she hugged him for it. Or well, she - sort of hid herself against him. He's learning what that action means, louder than any words.
So when Kate swings past him to take the dish of stir fry for the table, Castle snags her hand before she can. She pauses, arrested by his grasp, and he lifts her knuckles to his lips for a kiss. That reserve disappears, and emotion is back, though he has no idea what. Warmth, at least, and that much he knows.
He used to think he knew every look of hers, used to sit in his chair beside her desk and feel those smiles like love soaking down into his bones. And then he thought he was making it all up, and what he saw when she smiled at him was a terrible pity and kindness, and he didn't want kindness and pity.
He doesn't want kindness. He wants her smile to be love, and with love comes all the hurt and struggle too, and of course, the need for coping mechanisms. Like ill-timed jokes or silence.
"Rick?" she murmurs.
"We are celebrating," he says firmly. "We're excited, and we're celebrating. Together."
Her smile returns, fuller, richer, and it's that smile from the bank when she came rushing in to free him, still in the paramedic uniform, all that gorgeous relief brimming over in her eyes.
Relief, a form of being at rest just looking at the person in front of you.
He hears his mother sweeping into the kitchen, gathering her wine glass, talking of course. He has no idea about what. He just watches Kate's relief overflow and spill out her eyes into love.
Sex is one thing, and it's great - it will be more than just great - they're already fantastic with each other there, oh yes, he knows that much. But sex isn't everything. This - this is everything.
Instead of reaching for the stir fry, Kate slides her arms around his neck and presses her whole body to his. He embraces her back, chin tucked in close to her face, the scent of her carried on her hair and skin and seeping into his blood.
"We are," she whispers at his throat. "We are."
"Oh, aren't you guys darling? Come along. We can all use a meal. Have to keep up your strength, kiddos. Kate, I've poured you sparkling water, don't worry. Richard, get the meal on the table before it goes cold."
"We are," he says back to Kate, pressing a kiss to her mouth before letting her go.
They exist.
It's more than he thought possible just six hours ago.
X