Take Me Out to the Ball Game

Kate rouses slowly to the murmur of voices nearby, but she keeps her eyes closed and drifts for a moment longer, her mind slow to focus.

"Daddy, but Jeter will get better?"

"Shhh, yes. Jeter will get better. But you know, he's an old dude-"

"Old as you?"

"Huh. Well. Younger than me, actually. But old for baseball."

"Old for baseball?"

"Yeah, he's been playing baseball for a long time. And so, you know, might be time for him to retire."

"I don't like that."

"I know, buddy. But it happens. Life goes on. And when you're twenty years old instead of two, there will be new guys on the team. You'll love them too because it's the Yankees."

"Yeah, it's the Yanks," he sighs out, sounding so old and wise for her almost-three year old.

Kate shifts and lifts her head to see Dashiell perched on the arm of the couch near their heads, kicking his feet over the side as he talks to his father. Castle is sitting up a little, so that she's more against his hip than his chest like earlier this morning, but he's at least got a his fingers tucked into the back of Dash's pajama pants.

"Hey there, Mommy," he says with a little grin.

"You guys are awake?"

"Just," Castle answers, winking at her now. She shifts up and leans against him, yawning as she blinks in the light pouring through the living room windows.

Oh. Oops. She forgot to close the wooden blinds and pull the black out curtains for Dashiell. Darn. Totally her fault.

"Time's it?"

"Eight. Not bad."

She smiles and pokes Dashiell between the shoulder blades, rocking him forward and nearly tipping him off the couch's arm. "Hey, wild man. Turn around and give me a kiss."

Dashiell makes a face.

"I can offer to take that job off your hands, buddy."

She elbows Castle but Dash giggles and turns around. "Kissy face."

Castle grins back. "I like kissy face with Mommy."

"I want a kiss from my best man," she says, reaching for Dash and dragging him off the arm of the couch. "Come here, you."

"Hey now. I'm your best man," Castle huffs.

"No, no, no!" Dash giggles.

Kate kisses his cheeks, raspberries his neck, and then lifts up to look at Castle. "No. You're my groom. He's the best man."

Castle laughs, getting up from the couch and dumping them both into the cushions. "Well, the groom is gonna get breakfast. What do you want?"

"Hmm, no, I'll do it. You go wake baby girl."

"Now?"

"She's had twelve hours," Kate laughs. "Yeah, now."

"But why? She likes to sleep; let her sleep."

"Castle," she sighs, raising an eyebrow even as Dashiell wriggles out of her grip and hops to the floor. "She has to be on a schedule. You know that. Go get your daughter."

He grumbles but he heads for the stairs and Dashiell starts jumping for the kitchen, hop by hop, his hair bouncing on his head, his striped pajamas a bright green against the sunlight.

"Baby - choose one: waffles, pancakes, eggs-"

"You make me anything I want?"

"Well. Within reason."

"I reason eggs."

She grins and leans over him, scooping him up and swinging him towards the bar stool. He catches it with his feet and scrambles into it when she lets him go. "You reason eggs. I can do that. Toast?"

When he's quiet, she glances back over her shoulder to look at him and sees that clever half smile and the cock of his head, his hair falling in his eyes.

"I can have nutella on my toast?"

"Mm, you are all Daddy, aren't you?"

"He gets nutella on toast?"

Kate sighs and leans forward over the counter to stroke the hair off his face, cup his cheek. "No, baby. I mean you just remind me of your daddy."

But he ducks out of her touch and crawls up onto the counter, reaching past her for the bowl of bananas. "I have this with nutella too?"

Kate laughs and nudges him back towards his chair. "Don't push it."

Castle leans over the crib and watches Ellery sleep, reluctant to wake her despite Kate's insistence that the baby needs a schedule.

"Who needs a schedule, huh?" he whispers. "Not us. You and me, baby girl." But he sighs and reaches in, strokes his fingers down the soft, dark hair.

Ellery doesn't stir, her rounded cheeks pink with sleep, her lashes dark against the golden skin. She's got Kate's coloring and frame, nothing at all like Alexis was as a baby, and being premature probably makes her look even tinier.

But she really is so small. She's always been his little thing. Not yet a year old, and those fingers in a fist, her elfin ear. God, she's adorable and precious and the best thing to happen to him since-

since Dash. Since Kate. Since Alexis.

Okay, so there's no comparison, and no way to make a statement like that without the rest of his family, but sometimes he gets swept up in how much he loves them.

"Daddy's a little sentimental, baby girl. But that's okay. Means you never have to wonder."

Castle reaches in and scoops up his daughter, holds her against his chest in one smooth movement. She still sleeps, nestling in close to him, her mouth open and slack, absolutely gone.

He presses a kiss to the soft skin of her temple and she wriggles down a little in his arms. His palm is cupped at her head, his arm under the curled up legs, the heft of her bottom, and he sways with her in the middle of the room, giving her a moment, letting her wake slowly.

He hums and she squirms now, mouth yawning wide in that adorable way that makes him just absolutely melt, and then those so-blue eyes open to the world.

"Hey, my sweet girl. Good morning."

Ellery studies him for a long time, her head tilted, her body still curled up tightly, and then she smiles at him - beautiful, shy, adoring.

He just might have to sit down.

"Hey, Daddy came to wake you because we have a baseball game today. You remember baseball? This is your first game, baby girl. I think Dashiell is more excited for you than anything. Which is good since Jeter won't be there."

He heads for the rocking chair and eases into it, closing his eyes when Ellery puts her cheek to his shoulder and grips his shirt in her little hand. He strokes her back, cups her head, but she bobs up again, rubs her eyes against his chest.

"Okay, okay," he gives in. "You're up, huh? We'll cuddle later."

Castle stands and moves to the dresser, pulls out the changing pad and diaper from the top drawer. He gets to the floor and lays it out, puts her carefully down. Ellery goes for her feet, grabbing hold with a huge grin, making those little chirping sounds.

"Hey there, cricket," he chuckles. She bounces a little and rolls to one side, but he puts a hand on her belly and she stays easily enough. Dash. . .oh, Dash would never.

He changes her quickly, stripping the pajamas off and throwing them towards the open closet. With Alexis's bed still in the girls' room (even though she's in Chicago), there wasn't enough space for all the usual baby stuff - so no changing table - but he likes changing her on the floor better.

She's also a lot more calm and laidback about the whole process than Dash ever was, so that helps.

He leaves her rolling on the floor, grabbing for her toes, and tugs open a dresser drawer to look for the Yankees shirt they bought at a game a few months ago. They were supposed to have gone as a family but Kate couldn't at the last minute, so his mother came over and watched Ellery while he and Dash and Jim - just the boys, how proud Dash was of that - went to the game together.

Ah, there it is. Dashiell was reluctant to buy her a Jeter jersey, and he turned his nose up at all the baby pink (Daddy, she doesn't like pink; she's purple or blue or black), and so they settled on a retro looking NY in navy on a white shirt. Technically probably for baby boys, but really, Castle was just looking to appease Dashiell since Kate couldn't make it.

He cradles Ellery's neck and tugs the shirt on over her head, laughing when she blinks her eyes rapidly as it comes free of her face. "Ha, there you are. Now the arms."

As he dresses his littlest girl, he can't help remembering dressing his oldest when she was tiny, or laying out her clothes before school, and later, the hair. Alexis would come downstairs with her brush and a comb and ribbons or bands or sparkly things, and he would do his best.

He practiced; he was mortified the first day of kindergarten when he sent her off in a lumpy ponytail. All summer it had been perfectly acceptable, but for this exclusive private school and every mom judging him, it was suddenly not good enough. Not to her - Alexis never cared like that. But he did. He cared a lot.

His motherless girl.

Castle clears his throat and looks down at Ellery. "Not you though, huh, cricket? Never again. And now look - that wasn't so bad, was it? You're almost ready."

He tugs the little navy polka dot socks on her feet - shoes are probably in the bag downstairs - and then stands her up with his hands at her armpits. She bounces, grinning at him and sticking her fist into her mouth, pushing off against the floor and pitching her little body into him.

He grins back and leans in to touch his forehead to hers. "Ready for breakfast. I bet mommy gives you bananas to smear all over your face."

Ellery makes that chirping noise, so happy and awake now, and he kisses her cheek softly.

"I don't have Mommy's language, but I love you just the same, baby girl."

And then he scoops her up against his chest and carries her downstairs.

He checks everything one more time. The bag is packed tightly with stuff - sunglasses, hat, sunblock, sippy cup, bottle, cheerios, cheetos, diapers, change of clothes, his wallet, her keys, his keys, subway pass - oops, put that in his back pocket-

"Castle, you got snacks?"

"Yeah."

"More than one for each?"

"Uh."

"Let me add a couple more," she calls back. He lifts his eyes at Ellery, who is watching him from her spot on the floor in the living room, her feet kicking as she plays with the mobile.

"Add a few more and this thing will bust at the seams. Huh, baby girl?"

"Daddy, Daddy, Daddy! What about my glove?"

"Oh, oops." He straightens up and catches Dashiell the second he launches himself from the third to last stair. "Oof. Wild man. No more. I told you. You have to be sure I'm looking."

"No jumping from the stairs at all," Kate threatens from the kitchen. "I mean it. We'll stay home if you do that kind of thing. The stadium is filled with stairs you are absolutely not allowed to jump from."

"No! Not stay home. Please, I be good? Please? Tell her, Daddy."

"Dash can be good," he says cheekily, earning a glare from her. He smacks a kiss to Dashiell's forehead. "We're serious, wild man. You can't jump on the stairs."

"Daddy, I jump off the stairs. Not on."

He sighs and winces, but really, that's his own fault. The grammar, the word choice, all his own fault. "Okay, either one. You know how Yankee Stadium is - all those stairs? If we're worried about you at home, with just these little stairs, we're going to be worried that much more in the ball park."

"You not have to - you not worry me."

"We don't have to be worried? Okay then. No jumping."

"Never, never, never," he says solemnly, his hands cupping Castle's cheeks. "Where my glove?"

Castle cracks, laughs at his kid as he puts him down. "Go look in your closet."

"I already did."

"Look again," Kate butts in, handing over three more containers of snacks to Castle. He takes them and sighs at the bag, wonders how he's going to get these in as well.

"I already looked," Dashiell huffs.

Castle turns and grips him by the back of the neck. "Respect."

Dash slumps a little and then throws up both arms to his mother, whining. "Carry you."

"You do it yourself. You're a big boy; you should be looking after your own toys."

"It's not a toy. It's my glove."

He grips Dashiell's neck a little harder and pushes him gently towards the stairs. "Try your closet, in that big green bucket. One more time," he adds, forestalling another complaint.

Dashiell isn't down for long, because he's practically flying up the stairs by the time he reaches the top, and Castle can see Kate biting her lip to hold it back - the instinctive need to tell him to slow down.

He shoves the snack containers deeper into the inside pocket and wrestles the zipper closed. It was once Beckett's messenger bag; she took her laptop in it, files or paperwork that could leave the 12th. He still remembers the way the bag hit her hip, the strap across her belly as she left out that door the day Dashiell was born - running away from him, needing a moment to cool off, time alone.

She must have had the bag on her when she got a cab to the hospital later, must have had it in the room. He can't remember that clearly; he ran the whole way when they called, made it just in time - the details of what she was wearing that day, how she looked, those things are overwritten by everything that happened later.

But the bag. He distinctly remembers packing it up for her before they left, the three of them, sliding the smallest newborn diapers inside - the hospital had provided them - pushing in the extra baby clothes his mother had brought with her, all of Kate's things jostling with the baby's things.

Suddenly her fingers come to comb through his hair as he hunches over the bag; she pushes on his forehead. "You got it?"

He grins and shakes his head, tries the zipper once more. "Almost."

"See if something else can go."

"We don't need five snacks," he offers.

"Well."

"Four is good. Right? Two each. And Dash can eat Ellery's cheerios." Plus ball park food, but he won't bring that up.

She's still hesitating and he goes ahead and whips out the biggest one - vanilla wafers, which Kate always complains have no redeeming nutritional value anyway - and he tosses it towards the kitchen. The contianer hits the counter hard and bounces, skittering down the granite before coming to a stop at the edge.

"Score."

"Hardly," she mutters. "And look. You scared Ella."

He turns his head but Ellery isn't scared; she's just flipped herself over on her stomach and is looking intently in the direction of the noise. And then she's pushed herself up to her knees, and holy-

"She's crawling," Kate gasps, darting forward.

"Don't stop her," he laughs, getting tripped up in the bag as he heads for Ellery too. "Whoa. She's fast."

"Oh my God," Kate says, sounding breathless. "Where is that stupid camera?"

"I've got my phone," he answers back, already sliding it out of his pocket and perching on the arm of the couch as Ellery scoot-crawls towards Kate. "Call her, Kate."

"Hey, baby girl. Look at you, sweetheart. Come here." She squats down just past the couch and Ellery pauses on her haunches, rocking back and forth like she's trying to get enough momentum going to propel herself forward.

Castle uses his phone to record it, whispering encouragement, and then Ellery lurches forward and uses a knee, one leg twisted like she might sit at any moment, to crawl towards her mother.

When the camera pans towards her, his breath catches at the adoration on Kate's face. She catches Ella up against her chest and laughs, kissing her cheeks and little fists, praising her, and then she lets her go.

If it were him, he knows he wouldn't have put her back on the ground. Too proud. He's just - good thing there's Kate. She always knows when it's too much.

Ellery makes those happy chirping baby noises as she moves, speed-crawling for - of course - the stairs, nearly cackling with laughter as she makes it.

And then Castle sees his son on the middle step, staring down at his sister.

"Ellie. Ellie, you can go." His eyes dart up to Kate's first, then find Castle's. "My baby can really go."