Kate walks home with him after their hectic day of gift shopping. He was jostled so many times, nearly knocked to the ground by shoppers in a frenzy to find the perfect gift before the holiday season can come to a close, and she nearly lost her temper, did some shoving of her own when a man with his eyes glued to a phone almost caused Castle to lose his cane in the middle of the mall they had ventured into.
Down, girl, Castle had teased, squeezing her hand and keeping her close through the swell of the crowd.
She huffs when Benny greets her as soon as Castle unlocks the door, jumping up to brace his paws on her waist, his tongue hanging from his mouth as he stares up at her with a warm welcome in his eyes.
"Benny, down," Castle sighs, bumping the dog gently with his cane until Benny lowers himself back to the hardwood floor. Kate rewards him with an affectionate scratch to the head. "He really likes you."
"Don't be jealous," she teases, eliciting an eye roll and a quirk of his lips. "Do we need to take him out?" Kate asks, juggling the bagful of presents cradled in her arm.
"No, Alexis was just here a few minutes ago and she had him at the park with her for the entire morning while she studied. He's good for a couple of hours," Castle assures her, stepping out of the way once he has his cane propped by the door and allowing her to move in from the entryway.
"Oh, wow," she breathes once she's able to venture deeper into his home. She was here about a week ago, watching a movie with him and his daughter on the couch, but it had yet to become a winter wonderland. Bright lights illuminate the entirety of the first floor, snowflakes hang from the ceiling while garland hangs from the windows, atop the fireplace, around the railing of the stairs. The door jingles when he shuts it, a classic toy train set circles the end table behind the couch, and she's counted at least three life sized Santas standing sentinel at every corner. But it's the Christmas tree standing tall in the living room, decorated from top to bottom with shimmering lights and ornaments – both traditional and personal – that captures her attention. "It's magical in here."
"I don't doubt it," Castle smiles, no sorrow in his voice this time, just pride. "Alexis decorates every year, ever since the accident. I hadn't wanted to even put forth the effort that first year, but she had refused to sacrifice her Christmas spirit."
Kate grins, but her heart clenches at the image of his daughter fighting to keep the holiday alive. She remembers what that was like; the only difference is that Alexis actually succeeded.
Kate blinks against the memories before he senses the burst of melancholy, and helps him haul the load of presents inside, following him to his room to deposit the gifts on his bed so he can take inventory.
He had found a piece of jewelry - a necklace with a price that had her eyes bulging from her sockets - that he claimed his mother had been coveting for months, along with a tasteful coat she had helped him choose. He had spoiled Alexis, finding her all of the latest editions of electronics, including the newest version of a Kindle to store her hundreds of eBooks on. Castle had insisted they share the credit on the second gift for his mother, but Kate had found a gift for Alexis that would be solely from her. He hadn't been able to see the simple gold pendant she knew was Alexis's style, but he had kissed her on the cheek while the clerk had rung it up for her, pressing his smile to her skin for a change.
But Christmas is only a week away and she had yet to decide what she wanted for Castle. She had tried to institute a 'no gifts' policy between the two of them a few days ago, but he had merely shrugged, murmuring "too late".
"What're you thinking so hard about?" Castle questions from the bed, where he sits sorting through the presents by touch. He had memorized the size and feel of each item in the store before he had made each purchase and she finds herself in quiet awe of him, of the ways he's adapted and how smart he is, how he doesn't even realize it.
"What to get you for Christmas," she confesses on a huff, plopping down next to him, causing the boxes scattered across his bed to shake.
"I told you I didn't want anything," he reminds her with a grin and she knows he means it, but she wants to get him something and she wants it to be special.
"Too bad," she grumbles. "Do you want to wrap these here or in the living room?"
He sighs and directs his gaze to the bed, as if assessing the gifts laid out across his stylish grey comforter. "Living room. Is the bag with the wrapping paper with you?"
"Left it at the door," she confirms and he nods, gathering up the gifts, shoving them back in the shopping bags, and lugging them into the lounge.
"What do you do for Christmas?" Castle asks as he takes a seat on the floor, right beside the glow of the Christmas tree and Kate curls her fingers a little too tightly around the bag containing the assortment of bows and rolls of festive wrapping paper.
"Work, usually," she replies, placing a hand on his shoulder before she folds her legs beneath her to sit comfortably beside him.
"You work on Christmas? What about Christmas traditions? What about your family?"
"I don't have family, okay?" she snaps, slamming the wrapping paper down between them and scraping a hand through her hair at the startled hurt seeping into his unfocused eyes. "I'm sorry, I just - my mom died when I was nineteen and my dad is… he couldn't handle it. Died of alcohol poisoning six years ago." She sighs, brushing her knuckles over his outer thigh in silent apology. "My traditions died with them."
She bites her bottom lip, feeling it starting to quiver. She never talks about her parents anymore, not to anyone but Burke during her monthly visits, but not to others. It hurts too much and she never handles the pity well, but Castle isn't looking at her with pity.
"You could spend Christmas with me," he murmurs, reaching out to cover her hand when she focuses all of her attention on laying out the tools they need for present wrapping – scissors, tape, the paper.
"I can't," she croaks, clearing her throat to rid her esophagus of the emotion stuck there. "I just - you don't need me here for that and we're not-"
"We're not what?" he interrupts, his eyes turning a steely shade of cobalt, his hand slowly easing away from hers, and oh, she needs to be careful. They're both guarded, both hardened by the tragedies of their pasts, and if she says the wrong thing, all of the progress they've made, all the work she's done to get past his walls while letting him chip away at her own will be lost.
"I don't know," she confesses. So much for saying the right thing, Kate. "Isn't Christmas a holiday you spend with people you…"
"Love?" he fills in, the shield in his eyes falling away, turning his irises a serene shade of cerulean.
"Yeah," she mumbles, twirling the coiled band of a sparkling red ribbon around her index finger.
"I care about you, Kate," he starts, his voice a soft, low husk that has her stomach sparking with inappropriate heat. "And it… it scares me probably just as much as it scares you, but I don't doubt I could love you."
Her heart skips at the mere possibility of it.
"But it's hardly been a month," she points out.
He only shrugs. "Is there really a timetable on how these things work?"
"I guess not," she admits, giving in and scooting closer to him on the soft carpet, resting her head on his shoulder.
Castle turns, pressing his lips to the crown of her head. "So, how cheesy would it be if I said all I wanted for Christmas is you?"
"Very," she scoffs, just like he wanted her to, and lifts her head to find him smiling down at her.
The tightness in her chest unravels and her own smile curls along her lips before she can stop it. She's never had a relationship like this, never been able to just dive in without overthinking every single word or action, but he's made it surprisingly easy. Her relationship with Will Sorenson lasted six months, the longest she's ever had, and she never even came close to what she has with Castle now after barely three weeks.
"Stop thinking," he murmurs, reaching out for the pile of presents, placing a box of headphones for Alexis in her lap. "We're okay."
"I know," she assures him, leaning forward to unroll the bright red and green paper in front of them and using the scissors to slice enough material from the cardboard roll for the box in her lap.
They work in silence for a few minutes, Castle allowing her to use his hands to hold down the paper while she tapes, but it isn't long before the words are dancing on her tongue, pushing past her lips without her consent.
"I have… I have the morning of Christmas Eve off," she announces, fiddling with the shiny red bow while he patiently waits for her to continue. "But the rest of the day and the day after, I'm already scheduled to work."
She holds her breath once the confession is out, still unsure if it was a good idea to share the information with him, but he covers one of her bent knees with his palm, squeezing.
"Christmas Eve morning with you it is then?"
Kate swallows, but nods, something like hope and excitement blooming in her chest. She's actually going to have a Christmas this year, and it's terrifying, but she wants it. For the first time since her mother's murder, since her father was buried in the ground beside her, she wants Christmas again.
"If you're doing a head gesture in lieu of a verbal answer, I can't see it," Castle reminds her and she laughs, a watery and cracking thing, while he lifts a hand to her face, tracing the papery skin beneath her eye with a reverent thumb.
"I was nodding," she tells him, grinning when his fingers skim her lips, his own quirking at the feel of her mouth upturned.
She abandons her attempt at wrapping Martha's gift and slides her arms around his torso, burrowing into his side, letting him hold her while she stares past him at the shine of Christmas tree.
"I'm sorry," he whispers and she can't help the way her eyes blur at the sincerity of his voice, the pain in it, how he aches for her as if the grief of her years alone is his own. "I'm so sorry for all of it, Kate."
The exhale trembles past her lips and his arms tighten around her, squeezing the sorrow from her frame while Benny crawls into Castle's lap, onto hers as well, lying across the two of them.
"Moment ruined," Castle sighs and Kate chuckles, sitting back and glancing down to the dog, watching in amusement as his tail wags, smacking Castle in the ribs. "I think I'm hindering him from exploring his true dream of being a lap dog."
"You hardly even use him for his trained purpose," Kate points out, stroking the top of Benny's head, absentmindedly fastening the bow meant for Martha's gift to his collar.
"Because he sends me running into things, and women apparently."
"I better be the only woman he's sent you smacking into," she warns, smirking at the sight of Castle trying and failing to maneuver the dog from his lap.
"Bumping gracefully," he corrects, finally managing to move Benny to sit behind him. She suppresses a giggle as the dog rolls to lie beneath the Christmas tree, sprawling over a bed of fallen pine needles. "And yes, you were the first and will likely be the last."
She bites her lip, because she knows he doesn't mean to crack open her chest with hammers of hope and fear alike.
"Besides," Castle carries on, feeling around for the tape again. "You do more guiding than he does these days."
"Seems to be working out pretty well, I think," she muses, plucking the already giftwrapped jewelry box containing Alexis' necklace from the pile and sliding it towards the tree.
"Oh, it's definitely working well for me." He grins triumphantly when she places the tape in his hand. "I'd follow you anywhere, Kate Beckett."
Beckett rolls her eyes but brushes a smile to his cheek, and then his mouth, nonetheless. There is definitely a chance she could love Richard Castle and it doesn't even scare her anymore.