A/N: Castle still doesn't belong to me but sometimes I like to make up relatives for the characters. (Introducing Sam, The Carrot-Waving Lady and a few of Beckett's other relatives who are (sadly) figments of my imagination).

Sometime in the midst of spring the year before Beckett and I met, her grandfather died an expected death. One which was shockingly ordinary after 90 years of pulling rabbits out of hats and finding pennies behind pearl-studded ears. His death, as was often the case, was not worthy of the life up until that point; but was a very abrupt end to a otherwise remarkable story.

Beckett mentioned him in passing; created the picture of a fun-loving optimist with a catching smile and bright eyes. But it wasn't until the last day of the winter-term that she told me that the upcoming Christmas would be the first without his booming presence.

It was during English that our most directionless conversations took place. When our bell-resembling teacher left the room for more strawberry tea, we took the time to discuss anything from the possibility of aliens to the meaning of the Mona Lisa, and any topic in-between.

This particular day I was testing out a magic trick I'd learnt from a guy at the local magic store.

"Hey Beckett! I think I'm getting the hang of this!" I exclaimed as I pulled knot after knot of colourful handkerchief out of my thinning coat sleeve.

Kate sighed and turned to me, raising an eyebrow as I finished my trick with a flourish.

She did that lip-biting thing that she really shouldn't do if she wants me to think about anything other than kissing her.

When I think about it, an embarrassing about of the time I spent with Kate was invested in remembering the first and only time we kissed and trying to work out if I'd imagined up the silkiness of her hair or the softness of her lips. Hating that she caught me so far by surprise that I didn't have time to take note of every detail.

Now every time she leant close I held my breath, but usually she'd tug my ear or reach for the TV remote.

"Needs some work." She said.

I flicked my eyes up from her mouth and caught her smiling.

I tutted and crossed my arms in mock-offence, "what d-+o you know, anyway? You want to give it a try, seeing as you're the expert here?"

Kate pulled a shiny gold coin out from behind my ear, grinning smugly at my expression. "My grandad was a great magician, Castle." She said in way of explanation. "He'd have put you to shame."

I looked up when she didn't say anything else, only to see her crossing her arms skeptically as I tried to fold up the handkerchiefs to the approaching sound of our teacher's ringing footsteps.

"Actually you remind me of him." She said, her voice softening.

"How long has it been?" I asked quietly, because she never opened up; which meant that every tiny detail she allowed me was precious.

"Since last spring. This is our the first Christmas without him..." She smiled gently, watching her cold fingers skim mine on the desk we shared as I tried to give her some of my warmth. "Every year he'd take me and my little cousin Sam to see the lights go up. My uncle and aunt spent the holidays abroad so we'd have a second Christmas Day at my grandparent's house a few weeks before the official day. And every year my mum and my nan would argue about how to cook the carrots; and my dad and Adam's parents, completely oblivious, complain about taxes over mulled wine. So one year my grandad took Sam and me to see the lights go up and it's been the same every year since. It was like our unspoken tradition."

"We could go." I said suddenly.

Kate was still not meeting my eyes and without looking I could tell that hers had gone soft; her whole face opaque with vulnerability.

"What?" She asked.

"You me and Sam. You know if you still wanted to go, in honor of his memory? I get it if you want it to be the two of you. But, well you know how my sparkling personality tends to lighten the mood." I grinned and wiggled my eyebrows.

Kate coughed out a laugh.

"And I have magic tricks." I added.

Beckett raised her eyebrows and clicked her pen, continuing to write the essay we'd been set for the lesson. I mildly considered that I should probably start mine.

I waited patiently while Kate tried not to smile.

"Beckett?"

She didn't look up. "You'll have to get practicing."

At exactly 11am the next Saturday I was stood outside Kate's wide-set house, standing small in the colour-speckled garden. I looked back at the two extra cars taking up space in her drive, the other two leaning up against the pavement.

Today the door was decorated with a thick green wreath, and I could see the lights from the Christmas tree from outside; hear the collected voices of her family. And suddenly I felt the raw biting of nervousness set low in my stomach.

I took a deep breath and knocked.

Her house had started to feel like a second home. Her mother always greeted me warmly; amazed me with the details of her recent cases over a cup of tea while we waited for Kate. Even her father had stopped watching me from a distance when I came round for dinner; before he'd continue chewing in lengthy silence even as I cracked joke after joke; revealing nothing, but in a recent visit I'd actually caught him smiling at Kate and me. And each time she laughed at something I'd said, or sung along to the radio, or skipped down the stairs, I feel like he forgave me for being charming and scruffy, and for openly staring at his gorgeous daughter. Because I made her happy.

This time, however, the door was opened my boy with hair like dandelion-fluff and a huge gappy-toothed smile.

"I'm Sam," he declared, paused, "Are you Katie's boyfriend?"

"Um."

He grinned, let out an evil laugh that reminded me of a villain in a Disney film. "That's what she said when I asked too." He reached up to grab my arm, "Come inside."

"Oh, uh, okay." I followed the wavering of his fluffy hair until we reached the living room. I faintly registered a family of Beckett's regarding me with the same amused smile I saw on Kate's face most days.

A greying woman with Johanna's eyes was waving half a carrot at a stout woman with wisps of fluffy blond hair escaping her bun and shouting something about "last year's soggy carrots."

A middle-aged man was drinking from a nearly empty glass with Beckett's dad; his legs too long for the coffee table he'd taken a seat on. A few screaming babies and sighing parents with Kate's nose here and her dad's ears there were cooped up on sofas that suddenly seemed too small; pointing at the TV, and complaining about Christmas songs or the quality of last year's Christmas pudding.

"Castle. You're here."

I looked up to find Kate now standing in the doorway, dressed in a thick fur-rimmed coat and a trailing scarf. Her thin frame was wound with layer upon layer of weather-appropriate attire, and I could just imagine the fight she put up when her dad said it was too cold to wear her leather jacket. Even then the remnants of the argument lined her features, and she just looked so cute, a stubborn frown creasing her gentle features. She walked towards me to the sound of wolf whistles and a responding "eww" from Sam.

"Your grandad was a smart man." I laughed as her family went back to arguing and drinking and pointing at the TV.

Kate flicked one long end of her scarf over her shoulders with a sigh, "Tell me about it."

An little over an hour later I was pulling Kate onto the ice to the sound of Sam squealing and shrieking and spinning with much more control and balance than either or us had. And I felt like even if I did have any balance at all the way that Kate wavered on her feet and her fingers wound with mine would be enough to leave me falling.

"Don't let go." She gasped over a laugh. Her cheeks were rosy with the cold and her eyes bright with childlike excitement when we took one and then two wobbly steps on the ice.

I squeezed her hand softly. "Never."

I pulled her after me and she grinned and let go of the railing.

Looking back I'm pretty amazed that we managed the whole hour on the ice that we'd promised Sam. Kate with an an amazing lack of balance considering the way she could climb out of her window like a cat, and me surrounded by the dizzying waft of cherries and trying not to think about how close she was.

We managed a few laps around the icerink, shouting words of encouragement to the back of Sam's fluffy blond head.

Slowly we managed to glide over the ice with almost-ease, but even as we reached our final lap her fingers remained intertwined with mine.

"You guys suck." Sam told us a little while later over a steaming mug of hot chocolate. His whipped-cream moustache took away some of the blow.

Kate rested her chin on top of her hand, her voice tinged with something soft when she handed him several napkins (which he ignored) and said, "oh yeah?"

"Yep." Sam said, taking a lengthy sip before continuing, "You ice-skate worse than Sara."

I looked over at Beckett who shrugged before I replied. "Okay, firstly, I personally think we did very well, considering the amount of people who took pleasure in skating past so quickly that we nearly fell over... And secondly, who's Sara?" I asked, earning a sharp kick from Beckett, "what?" I mouthed at her. She shook her head sharply while Sam regarded us with something like interest.

"We can play footsie later." I winked and she kicked me again. And I remember thinking that those boots must be made of steel, but it was worth the bruise for the hot-pink blush that fluttered over her cheeks.

"You two are gross." Sam declared, and then "Sara is my girlfriend."

Kate choked on her hot chocolate and I patted her back absent-mindedly, "you have a girlfriend?"

"Yes. Sara. Keep up!" He turned to Kate, "can I have another cookie?"

Kate nodded slowly and Sam grinned and jumped up, his fluffy hair bobbling when he stopped at the back of the queue.

"That kid is going places." I murmured at Kate who was watching Sam cautiously, like at any moment he might age ten years and decide he wants to major in bio-chemistry and marry a supermodel.

"He has a girlfriend."

"Apparently so. You need to get with it, unless you want to be the only single Beckett this Christmas."

Her eyes turned a full circle before coming back to meet mine. "Ah, too bad I don't have any good candidates." She teased.

"Ouch, Beckett. Ouch."

"Oh no you're right." Kate said thoughtfully, and my ears pricked up despite myself.

She took a small sip of her coffee before continuing, "The guy who sleeps through English is pretty cute."

I groaned, "Snoring Keith? The guy who will not wake up no matter how many bits of paper you throw at him?"

"Yep." She grinned. Her laughing eyes were swirled with darkness when she went on, "what can I say? I like a guy who's good in be-" her face froze and then broke into a pleasant smile, "did you get your cookie?"

I looked up to see Sam approaching and had to smother a laugh behind the back of my hand. Kate shot me her worst look.

Sam nodded and took his seat opposite us in one of the squishy chairs, his small feet dangling above the ground.

"They didn't have any small ones." Sam explained as he took a satisfied bite of the huge double chocolate-chip cookie.

And I remember thinking that this kid was definitely going places.

"What were you guys talking about?"

The air outside smelt like Christmas pudding and frost and I breathed all it in on a sigh.

I love Christmas; always have. Something about the smells and the tastes and the way strangers smile on the street and trees stand inside tiny houses lit up like the sky. Oh and the presents. Of course the presents.

The cards we swapped earlier that day hoped for a happy holiday, but the gifts said "I believe in you." the way that gifts should. That year Kate's eyes shone when she opened her plastic detective badge, and then the whiteboard and pen.

I wrote in the shiny new notebook she gave me until the pages ran out; drunk from the mug marked with the name she gave me every day. I actually cried when it smashed, sitting next to the broken pieces of it without moving, and scaring poor Alexis half to death. She replaced it the next day; came home with a box packed with polystyrene and one of the merchandise mugs I'd based on Kate's gift. But it wasn't the same.

I could feel Kate's presents wrapped and nudging me though my backpack as stared at the amazingly dull tree that occupied a large amount of the cut-off street.

Even above the huge crown we could hear Sam's excited chattering. He gasped at the sound of a booming voice on the intercom that, according to Kate, made the same speech every year; something about family and love and thankfulness that actually made complete sense to me. It was something about Kate's smile... and her eyes questioning mine, because, oops, yeah, I'd been staring. Again.

When they turned the lights on Beckett was silent for a moment, the clogs in her brain working in a way Sam was lucky not to notice. He grinned and cheered with the rest of the oblivious crowd as the huge tree was lit up in a way that was both blinding and beautiful.

Beckett wasn't looking at me, an icy expression that had nothing to do with the cold stopped her features from crumbling. But wasn't enough to freeze the tears.

My whole body was buzzing with the need to comfort her, to reach out to short-tempered, sarcastic Beckett who teased me mercilessly. It looked like she was getting further and further away with every flicker of the too-bright bulbs.

Kate was beautiful in her thick winter coat, and I knew I wouldn't be able to sum up how I felt even if I had the time or words to tell her. But in that moment I had neither, so I said, "What a fire hazard." And caught Kate's hand for the second time that day.

I could feel her warmth through her thick purple gloves; circled my thumb over the soft cotton, and some of the tension in her shoulders seemed to drain away. And my heart-swelled because this was Beckett, and she was cradling my hand like she never wanted to let go.

Kate sniffed loudly, "Stupid, tacky, buy one get one half price bulbs." She agreed.

Sam pulled me back as we got onto Kate's street, whispering loudly while Beckett pretended not to notice.

"I like you Castle, even if you do suck at ice-skating. And if Katie didn't like you she'd have punched you by now. So you should kiss her. But on the mouth. Because I missed a girl's mouth once and she wasn't happy about it." Sam told me seriously.

Dating advice from an eight year old. I'd have been disturbed had he not been pretty smart for someone who didn't know his five times table.

I was halfway though asking him where his lips landed when I realised he was running. He ran all of the rest of the way to the house, leaving Beckett and I alone.

"What did Sam say to you?"

"He said that you like me." I gloated, not even trying to stop the wide grin spreading across my cheeks.

Kate raised an eyebrow, and of course she knew there was more.

"And that I like you." I allowed more quietly

I realised numbly that we had reached the door to her house; that the curtains were shut and we were finally alone.

Sam had beat us inside, the heavy slam of the door flicking the mistletoe he'd tied to the knocker sideways. I watched it swing back and forth, feeling Kate's strong gaze on me.

"And yet you haven't kissed me since that day in the park."

I looked down at her, stumbling and stupid in a way only Kate makes me. "No... No? W-well I..."

My mind raced with the idea that maybe she'd been waiting for me to kiss her. Which meant that we really had a lot of catching up to do. As in all of Christmas connected at the lip. And maybe a little of new year. Or maybe just the rest of our lives. With maybe a few seconds of breathing time.

"Well?" She asked, her eyes giving nothing away. And when she stepped closer her hands brushed against mine. The friction of her soft skin was a sudden shock; the air around us thickening until it was hard to breathe.

"I didn't know if..." I trailed off with the heavy flutter of her eyelashes. The opening glide of the dark curtain of Kate's hair tickling my neck. Her breath heavy and warm and soft at my cheeks.

"Castle." She brushed our noses with soft Eskimo kisses, blinking up at me with eyes I wanted to fall into; as if she had no idea that my knees were weakening and my heart was racing, and I'd been holding my breath since the door slammed. The sparkle there a sharp contrast that said she knew; that she was the cat and I was the mouse, and I was happy to be caught and she knew it.

I let out a choked breath, "right, yeah I should just-"

"Shut up and kiss me?"

The mistletoe, her words, the uneven beating of my heart and the way the snow was starting to fall. I internally groaned. "So many clichés." I sighed, leaning down to press my forehead against hers.

I stumbled when she pulled back just slightly and mimed reaching for the door, smiling teasingly. "Oh I'll just go inside then." She whispered.

I groaned out a laugh "don't you dare Beckett." In one swift movement I caught her arm, pulling her flush against me; and I could feel the warmth of her through the four layers her dad made her wear.

"It is cheesy..." She breathed, half-teasing, half-serious.

"I'll make the exception for you." And I would; I'd kiss her in the rain, when the clock strikes a new year, and I'd kiss her over a bouquet of roses on Valentine's Day. This was Kate after all.

"Hmm, how noble of you." She murmured, lifting one eyebrow and the corner of her lips.

"You know me, Beckett." And all I could think was that she did know me; she knew me better than anyone and she was still here, and she wanted me to kiss her.

Her response was muffled by the press of my lips, my hands wound deep in the silky locks of her hair and the delicate toes of her heavy boots pointed firmly into the snow when she rose up to kiss me. She tasted like the dark burn of coffee and the gentle sweetness of vanilla.

Her gloved hands didn't move when she pulled away, her slim arms wound thick around my neck; keeping me close.

The continuous flurry of snow left glimmering silver dust in her dark hair, but in that moment everything was warm; each unique snowflake screaming the possibilities.

Kate didn't believe in fairytales; and I could barely feel my toes, but the press of her lips on mine was electric; and I had enough magic for the both of us.

If you asked me then what me and Beckett were, I'd have told you I didn't know. Because I hadn't realised yet that you could have a girlfriend who you want to spend every minute of the day with, or a best friend who made you seriously consider giving up oxygen; because nothing was as crucial as the press of their lips against yours. But if you'd asked me where I saw myself in ten years, I'd have told you I didn't know; that all I knew was that wherever I stood Beckett was right there next to me, and in my mind she always would be. Because Kate was already the last person I wanted to see when I closed my eyes, and we finished our sentences on the first day we met; and I didn't know what that meant, or how rare it was to find, but I knew I couldn't imagine my life without her. Even as my writer's brain created worlds with Russian spies and mobsters Kate didn't change, because she was already perfect. And I didn't know who I wanted to be or the life I wanted to lead, but I knew that any world without Kate; without her smile and her laugh and her story, just wasn't worth writing.