Everlasting Light
Castle smiles at Kate when she comes out of the bedroom, freshly showered and looking a lot better than she has in weeks. In about six weeks, actually. Dashiell is asleep in his arms, finally, after another successful bottle feeding. The baby has gotten a lot better at this sleep stuff since they switched to formula.
"Hey, it's my guys," she murmurs and leans over him to kiss Dashiell's forehead. The ring on it's chain slips out from under her shirt, but she makes a rather unconscious-looking move to tuck it back away-
But Castle grabs her wrist.
Kate startles, her eyes flying up to meet his. Castle lets go only to grab the ring, rubbing his thumb over the diamonds.
"Oh, Kate-" he says, his heart twisting.
She sits down heavily beside him, wraps her fingers around his. "What? Castle, what?"
"Have you been wearing that a lot?"
She flinches, glances down. "Well. Yeah."
Because of her mom. And now that he thinks about it, they started seeing those marks the day after she got back from that long lunch with her father sometime before Thanksgiving. Oh, Kate.
"It's the ring. Kate, it's the ring."
"What?"
Castle lets go and meets her eyes, some of her grief like ice in his heart. "It's the ring scratching his face, Kate, love-"
She blinks and glances down to her mother's ring, her fingers curled around it. She rubs a hand under an eye and he realizes she's got on make up for the first time in weeks. Did she do that for him? No need - she always looks beautiful, and his chest hurts as she clutches the ring.
He glances down to Dash, rubs a finger along the boy's cheek where one those red welts is beginning to fade. He had Dash all last night, and he was feeling rather proud about the lack of new scratches.
He sees movement out of the corner of his eye and glances up in time to catch lifting the memento over her head, her hair catching in the necklace and then coming away, the ring tight in her fingers.
"Kate-"
"It's fine. I should've realized," she says, shaking her head. She's got tears in her eyes, which stuns him. Throughout her whole pregnancy, she never let the hormones get the best of her. At least, not where he could see. She's spent so long tightly in control of her facial expressions and her body, so long disciplined to be stoic and reserved that not even pregnancy could sway her.
He knows she got upset about things and yelled at him - quite a lot - but it was relationship stuff - all their issues. But this is so much more visceral, seeing her struggle not to cry about her mother.
"Can you wear it on one of your fingers?" he suggests.
Kate shakes her head. "It's too small."
She drops the ring and necklace onto the coffee table as if that's it, then holds her hands out for Dash. He hands the boy over, watches her for a moment, then glances back to the abandoned ring. He leans over and picks it up, fingering it, then looks at her, the mother of his son. Beautiful and confident and somehow vulnerable in this moment.
Kate ignores him, leans her head over Dash and murmurs in the baby's ear as he stirs. Castle slides the ring in his pocket, and still she says nothing to him about it. He leans against the couch, his arm along the back, watching Kate with their son.
What does she say to him? He may never know - a magic between mother and baby, a bond of love. But Dashiell's eyes close again and he stops squirming, his mouth falling open as Kate whispers in his ear.
When he can't help it any longer, Castle scoots over on the couch and curls his arm around her shoulders, knowing it's a risk but also knowing that taking off her mother's ring is affecting her, no matter what she says.
Kate doesn't look at him, but she does lean back, her head tilted on his arm, her dark lashes highlighted by eyeliner and mascara and the faint blush high on her cheekbones. She looks amazing; she always looks amazing.
But she looks more fragile with the make-up on today than any day these last six weeks. If only she would let him-
"I'm fine, Castle," she murmurs, and moves her hand from around Dashiell to lay it on his thigh.
She's not. She's not fine.
Kate sits in front of the Christmas tree with Dashiell propped up on her knees, the boy's eyes wide open as he stares at the lights. The pink and blue and yellow cast pine-needle-shaped shadows against the wall; every lamp in the apartment is off to preserve the feeling. A few days ago, (entirely too late he told her), Castle decorated the loft while she and Dashiell watched. Her heart felt like the Grinch's, bursting its seams as her partner goofed off for his son.
She likes this tree, loves the soft tree skirt with its fringe of white fluff, the family ornaments that give a sketch of their history together. Alexis and her father. And now Dash.
Castle comes to sit beside her, smiling, and his fingers wrap around her ankle. Any other day, that would irritate her, but today is special.
"Christmas Eve Eve," he says softly. "You doing okay?"
"I'm fine," she says, a little surprised by the question. "You want him?"
"No, you two look happy," he says softly. The tenderness on his face makes her hurt; she puts a hand on Dash's belly to hold him still, then reaches down to lace her fingers through his, dislodging him from her ankle.
"Come here," she says back, pulling on his hand.
He laughs. "Where?"
"Sit with me. Not across from me." She smiles at him, chewing on the inside of her cheek as he shifts around, side by side now. He's warm and large, his body comforting in a way it sometimes can be. Kate leans into his side, slowly lets her knees drop so that Dashiell is just lying in her lap.
Castle braces himself with a hand flat on the floor behind her back, her shoulder tucked under his arm. He reaches over and brushes his finger down Dashiell's nose. The boy grabs on, baby fingers fisting, little legs kicking. He moves a lot, squirms all the time; Kate has nearly dropped him more times than she likes to admit.
"So. What's this going to look like?" she says finally, rubbing her thumb over Dashiell's bare foot. Castle is keeping the apartment rather warm; she thinks it's because getting up at night with the boy is just miserable when it's even a little bit chilly.
"Christmas, you mean?"
"Yeah. What do you and Alexis usually do?" she says, realizing with a pang that she's never thought to ask before. Now that she's getting a minimal amount of sleep these days, all kinds of things are occuring to her.
"What do you usually do, Kate?"
"Meet my dad for breakfast the next day. Nothing much. But this is your family-"
"It's yours too," he interrupts with a sigh. "You know that, right? It's your family too."
She swallows and looks down at her son - their son - and the way he gnaws on Castle's finger. Castle. He's just so good. Such a good daddy, and so good to her even when she hasn't been very deserving of it. She hasn't even figured out what the hell she's giving him for Christmas. And it's not like she can get out and do last minute shopping.
She's so screwed.
Kate closes her eyes and presses her forehead into his shoulder with a sigh. She owes him a lot. She can't think of a thing to do to even begin paying him back.
"Kate? Tell me you know. Tell me you think of this as our family, together. Tell me-" His voice breaks and she curses herself for her wandering, post-pregnancy-hormonal mind, reaches a hand up to his cheek, brushing her thumb over his mouth.
"I do. I do; I'm sorry. I can't manage to pay attention long enough to have an intelligent conversation, Castle." She huffs on a laugh and lifts her head to look at him, hoping the humor does what she can't seem to figure out how to do - reassure him, soothe him.
He sighs and leans in to kiss her mouth softly. It feels good. It's always good like this between them. That's how they got here, right? But it does things now to her, his kiss, warm and rich and faint coffee.
"Shoulda thought of this sooner," she murmurs against his mouth.
"What?"
"You taste like coffee. If I'd been a little less sleep deprived, I might've thought of that. Wake me up with coffee kisses, Castle."
He laughs back and kisses her again, a little harder, and it sparks in her belly, a rush of flame that makes her fingers curl around his ear. Castle breaks away from her entirely too soon, strokes her cheek with his fingers.
"You've got only days to go, Kate. Then you can have all the coffee you like."
"I can't wait," she sighs. She knows she sounds so desperate, but she doesn't care. She is desperate; they've been weaning Dash off the breastmilk for the last few weeks because of his colic, and she's going back to work at the beginning of January. And damn, she wants coffee. "I have vivid, sexual dreams about caffeine. It's rather obscene."
Castle laughs harder, momentarily falling away from her, his eyes twinkling like the Christmas lights. "Am I in these dreams?"
She grins back. "You bring me coffee. And then it's just me and the caffeine."
"Darn." His laughter makes the lights on the tree brighter, the room more open.
She does love him. She does. He must know that. Has she said it recently?
"Castle."
"Yeah," he says, still chuckling, coming back to lean against her shoulder, nudging her. Dashiell is watching them with dark, attentive eyes. His little feet kick out, disloding her hand on his toes.
"Castle, I love you." She bites her lip and watches him, looking for certainty in him.
She's not disappointed. He nods and leans in to kiss her lips, light and delicate. "I know, love."
She lets them breathe in that moment of certainty, then she narrows her eyes at him, pushing him back a little. "That's twice in the last ten minutes. Don't think you can get away with that just because I'm happy."
His eyes light up at that, but he quickly regains his focus. "I'm trying it out," he says, back to laughing at her. "Next is babe."
"Don't even."
"You don't like babe?"
"I don't like nicknames. Keep it Kate. Or Beckett. Either of those are fine."
"But you're happy?" he says, and she sees now that *this* is where his uncertainty lies.
Kate looks down to the baby in her lap, his head turned now towards the tree and his little fists waving in the air like he wants to catch a tree-light firefly. So alert and awake - too often awake, though better now that he's on formula - and the dark hair that smooths over his skull and curls some on the ends. What she almost gave up.
She looks back up at Castle, this man who gave it to her in the first place, and she can't even smile at him, can't even speak, all of it caught in her throat with the Christmas tree behind him. She was stupid and afraid and how could she have ever known what this feels like? To love so much. To want nothing more than this man, father and writer and her whole heart. This man and their son.
She hears the choked noise that works out between her lips and then buries her face in his neck, hugging him with one arm as tightly as she can, her other hand keeping Dash still on her lap, knowing it's not nearly enough but unable to speak. Happy doesn't even begin to cover it.
Castle sighs softly and hugs her back, his lips at her temple. "I love you, too, Kate. So much. Thank you for this, for all of this."
What in the world is he thanking *her* for?
Castle carries Dashiell with one hand and sets out the last of the food on the table. He told his mother he was determined to make Christmas Eve dinner better than Thanksgiving, and surprisingly, Kate seemed equally fervent about it.
She made half the food spread out on the kitchen counter and the dining room table. She's good at it too. That surprised him, but he knows it shouldn't have (she's told him before her mother was a good cook). Kate just left the presentation up to him while she went to go get changed. It's been so long since Castle has been in dress clothes that he abandoned the tie and now just wears an eggplant dress shirt with the sleeves rolled up and his charcoal slacks. (The suit jacket is still in the closet).
He grins to himself as he grabs the mashed potatoes. Kate picked out his shirt. Sort of. He was debating between a couple and she was in and out of the bedroom, smirking at him for being such a girl, Castle. He had on the deep purple one when she came back with a mewling Dash in her arms; she stopped and stared at him for a second and then wandered back out.
She came back in the room only a minute later to grab Dashiell's pacifier from the bassinet, and he knew - knew - that she'd seen him and lost her train of thought. Which totally made his day.
Dash flops his head against his father's chest, and Castle quickly shifts him back to the football carry. The boy fusses at him, unhappy with this position, but the baby is just too active to be allowed to squirm around on Castle's shoulder. He'll arch his back and flip right out of Castle's arms. Nearly happened to Kate the other day.
A knock at the door causes Dash to begin crying for real, already upset about being cradled instead of against his father's shoulder, but Castle is getting rather adept at ignoring his frustrated cries.
He puts the greenbean casserole on the table and heads for the door. "Kate!"
"Coming," she shouts back, and he already can hear her heels on the hardwood as she heads back into the living room.
"Alexis!"
"Yeah, yeah-"
He turns his head and she's already at the top of the stairs, coming down in a navy dress, grinning at him. "Hey pumpkin. You look great."
Castle reaches the door and opens it; it's his mother (who still has a key but apparently won't use it). "Mother-"
"That kid had some lungs, doesn't he?" His mother wriggles her fingers at Dashiell and the stimulation of having glittering rings in his face is enough to shock the boy into silence. "Haven't lost my touch."
Castle hands his son over to his mother, who is more than happy to coo over him. "Hello there, my little enfant terrrible." Alexis joins them at the bottom of the stairs just as Kate comes into the living room.
Castle stares at her for a long second, hungrily soaking her in. "Gorgeous, you are just. . ."
Kate gives him that grateful smile he's seen so much of lately; he steps over to her and intercepts her before she can get to his family, his hands sliding around her waist.
"Castle-"
"You're beautiful, Kate," he breathes between them, and then he presses a soft kiss to her mouth, a promise of more.
He has plans for her. This beautiful, amazing woman looking regal and svelte in her black dress and heels only eight weeks after having his son.
Dashiell squawks from Martha's arms and Kate laughs, but she's still hanging on to him as she moves her mouth away from his, hanging on like she feels it too.
Kate finds Alexis sometime after dinner but before they've managed to serve dessert. Martha let go of Dashiell only when Jim demanded his fair share of the grandkid, but she grabbed him back pretty quick and now cuddles him on the couch. Castle and her father are in his study talking about the ship in a bottle that Castle built (she keeps explaining that her father has taken up carpentry and is building a real boat, not a toy model, but he ignores her). And so Kate grabs his daughter by the elbow and steers her towards the kitchen.
Martha looks to be playing a wickedly long game of peekaboo with a baby that *never* tires of it, so Kate knows she's got some time.
"Alexis," she starts, and then doesn't know what to say. The girl has been like a third pair of parenting hands while she's been here for Christmas break. Not to mention she's spent every weekend here as well. "I just - thank you so much for everything."
Alexis blushes. "I love helping out with him. He's got such personality, even so little."
"He's got that, yeah." Kate steps out of her shoes, flexing her toes and pressing against the floor to pop the joints. It's been awhile since she's worn heels this high. Takes some getting used to again. "But, Alexis, please don't feel like you have to, okay? You're still our - you're still a kid; you shouldn't be forced into-"
"I'm not a kid," Alexis says hotly, stepping back, turning her head.
Kate stops, stunned, and presses her lips together. "I. . .meant it differently than that," she admits finally. Best to just say it how it almost came out, rather than have Alexis think that Kate is dismissing her.
Jeez, this makes her uncomfortable.
"Alexis."
The girl glances up, face composed now, mouth open as if she's going to wave it all off, go back to being the perfect daughter. But Kate has been given a little glimpse past that, and she wants more of it, more of the real Alexis.
"What I wanted to say, but didn't say because I wasn't sure you'd be okay with me claiming you. . ." Kate gives a little laugh and trails off, glancing back to the living room, but there's no help for her from that direction. "I was going to say that you're still *our* kid. The oldest, but-"
Kate shrugs, unable to meet the girl's eyes. This was a really stupid idea. She vaguely remembers a night a few weeks back when they half-had a conversation like this, but she has no idea what she said or if it was worthwhile. She just knows she made a promise to herself to do it better later.
This is later. But it's not much better.
"Look, I know you and your Dad have your own thing, and I'm not trying to-"
Kate's word are cut off by the sudden explosion of an embrace from Alexis, the girl's arms so tight around Kate's ribs that it knocks the breath from her.
As a reflex, her arms come up around Alexis's back; she touches a hand to the beautiful hair.
"Uhh, you okay?" Kate says after a moment, stunned.
"You want me," Alexis breathes.
"What?" Kate takes her by the shoulders and pulls her back, feeling a fist in her guts at the insecurity she heard in Alexis's voice. "What does that mean? You're. . .Alexis. Have I said something that makes you think-"
"No!" Alexis says with wide eyes. "No, I'm sorry. Not at all. You've been. . .yourself."
Kate winces. "Ah, that's kind of damning-"
"No. No, I mean, it's a relief to know that you're so comfortable around us. Well, around me. That you just take it for granted that I'm here and always going to be the third wheel and-"
"You're so not a third wheel. Besides, the third wheel adds stability, it's the fifth wheel that's superfluous-"
Alexis claps a hand over her mouth and laughs. "You sound just like my dad."
Oh. She. . .does? Castle is rubbing off on her.
"Alexis. Seriously. You have been a life saver. I don't think I would've made it if it was just me and Castle trying not to rip each other's throats out." She chuckles darkly then winces again at the surprised look on Alexis's face. "Okay, too much information?"
Alexis laughs. "Yeah, but thank you."
She hugs Alexis again, trying to instill some confidence back in the girl. "Don't thank me. What is with you Castles? Thanking me for being selfish?"
"Selfish?"
Kate lets Alexis go and leans back against the counter, knocking her shoes to one side so she doesn't trip on them. "Look at all I get. I just. . .show up and be my usual closed-off self, and you guys take it, and you're still so. . .wonderful to me."
Alexis's face twists with anxiety; she steps closer and hugs Kate again. Kate is going to have to get used to this. Both of them are just so much more touchy-feely than her family ever has been. But she hugs the girl back.
"Kate. I love you."
"Thanks. I love you too."
She hears Alexis laugh and wonders what that's about, but the girl is pulling back and shaking her head. "You just. . .thanks. I needed to hear that."
Kate bites her bottom lip and regards the young woman. "Is there. . .anyway you could maybe clue me in on that kind of thing? I'm going to try to be better about all this, but I'm still not any good at saying things. Not any good at being a family either."
"Clue you in on. . .when I need something from you?"
Kate sighs in relief, gives Alexis a smile. "Yeah. Dash cries and lets me know he needs something. So that's already taken, okay?"
Alexis laughs again, a freer sound; it eases that tight place in Kate's chest.
"Okay, got it. I'll just. . .talk to you. How about that?"
"Words are good. I promise to listen, and do my best to find some of my own. Sound like a plan?"
Alexis laughs again and tilts her head, just like Castle does when he's trying to figure something out. "You like plans. You like everything to fall in line."
Kate raises an eyebrow. "Yes? Is this new information?"
"Not really. I just never thought about it in terms of. . .relationships."
"Ah. Well. Yes, that too. I like to know what happens next."
Alexis gives her a soft, happy smile - something entirely too tender and knowing for this conversation. "I think you'll end up loving what happens next, Kate. Even if. . .well, just know that we love you too."
Secrets. Alexis has a secret; she knows something. Strange. Kate narrows her eyes and contemplates the best form of interrogation, but Alexis escapes from the kitchen to join her grandmother on the couch.
Huh. Interesting.
The bassinet is in the study - Kate's insistence. She says she can't do this with him sleeping right next to their bed. Fine, whatever. Castle squeezes the bag of formula in the bottle to make sure Dash isn't getting any air, then sits down in his writing chair with his son.
Writing. Well, he's done very little of the book. He does keep writing silly stuff down in notebooks or scraps of paper. Kate found his laptop still by the door a few weeks back and plugged it in, trying to recharge the battery, but it was totally dead. She's right though; he's got to get back to the book, establish a discipline with his writing since he's the one who will be staying at home with Dash.
Kate comes back into his study from their room, silent on bare feet, still in her dress but all her jewelry taken off.
"You need anything?" she murmurs, and leans over to kiss Dashiell's head while he feeds from the bottle. Castle can see straight down her dress, so very lovely, and when Kate lifts, he knows she did that partly on purpose.
"I'm good for now. And stop getting so close. He smells you. And then all he wants is you."
Kate laughs darkly and runs her fingers through the hair at his temple. "Hm, you sure you're not just projecting?"
He closes his eyes and tilts his head back. "Kate Beckett. Don't say that kind of thing when I'm holding my son and can do absolutely nothing about it."
"You kidding? That's the best time for it." She snags the back of his neck and lifts his head into her receptive mouth; Castle's eyes startle open and then slam shut again. Her dirty wicked tongue-
"Finish feeding your son, then come find me," she says throatily. "I'm done waiting."
Oh, hell yeah. So is he.
Kate saunters back to their bedroom and Castle shifts in his seat, pulling Dashiell closer to his chest, balancing his forearm on the boy's belly as he holds the bottle. Dash isn't yet able to grip the bottle but he does keep trying, and lately he's started smiling up at them if they smile first.
Dash will hold his head up if he's on his tummy, but not for long. And his head wobbles on his little unstable neck when he's up against Castle's chest, but his father can tell he's getting stronger since they started weaning him. This was the last day of feeding him breastmilk; it's all formula from here on out.
"Cutting you off, little man," he whispers, watching his son suck down the last of it.
Dashiell's eyelids are closing even though he fights it; Castle can smell formula and baby skin, the warm scent of his son and detergent and a clean diaper. Before the bottle is even gone, the nipple falls out of his little mouth; he's gone.
Castle grins and sets the bottle on his desk; he'll wash it out later. He gets to his feet and heads for the bassinet, still watching his son sigh in his sleep. He carefully lays him down, making sure he's positioned right, that the blanket swaddles him tightly.
Brushing a finger down the boy's forehead, his nose, Castle takes a moment to let everything run through him all over again - the intensity of his love for his son, the way it makes his heart full, and then how he wants to go find Kate and just. . .worship at her feet.
Kate. The tenderness gives way to need that quickly.
Castle leaves the study and heads for their bedroom, unbuttoning his cuffs as he does, unbuckling his belt, sliding it out of his pants.
Kate appears magically in front of him, stilling his hands. She's in black, but not that dress-
"Where did *this* come from?"
"Would it be entirely too cliche of me to say it's time for your Christmas present, Rick Castle?"
He swallows hard, taking in the expanse of moonlight-silvered skin and rich curves wrapped in black lace. "I don't even care," he says throatily, not sure what she said, but something about cliches. And Christmas.
"Then go for it. I know you like to just rip the paper right off-"
He chokes on his own laugh and crushes his mouth to hers, wrapping his arms around her, dragging her against his chest.
She laughs back, entirely too pleased with herself, but he doesn't even have the self-control to make her pay for that. Her fingers are at his pants already, her mouth deadly and hot, her tongue coiling around his. He gets his hands in the tight space between them and caresses the edge of the lace, feeling her skin flutter.
"Anything I need to avoid?" he murmurs.
"I'll let you know if I can't handle it," she says back. "But until then. Don't stop."
He squeezes her breast and she cries out, the last of the sound a breathless laugh. "Oh shit, I'm not gonna survive this," she mutters and slides her hands down.
His hips rock against her touch. "Good."
It's only fair.