Disclaimer: The only part of Castle that I own is the TV on which I watch the show.
It's December fourth. There's only so much self-control a holidayaholic can exercise, and Castle can't hold off on the little trees any longer. At four this morning, while Kate is asleep, he drives to his favorite tree lot. The owner lives in Norway 45 weeks of the year; for the other seven he's in lower Manhattan, selling all kinds of holiday greenery around the clock.
This early in the day Castle has no problem finding a parking spot nearby. When he enters the lot, he sees the man who has been his friend since Alexis was a toddler. "Hi, Mathias," Castle says, giving him a hug. "Welcome back."
"Rick! Hey, great to see you. How's your family?"
"Fine, thanks. Alexis is a freshman in college. She's uptown at Columbia, but she might as well be in Ålesund with you for all I see her. Your family doing well?"
"Yes, everyone. You must be feeling a little lonely then. What do you call it here, empty nest?"
Castle's entire face is a grin. "Um, about that. Not so lonely after all. My girlfriend moved in with me a few months ago."
"Wow, fast work," Mathias says. "Last Christmas you were moping around like a polar bear with no ice." He laughs when his favorite customer starts bouncing on the toes of his bright red sneakers.
"Well."
"Oh, don't tell me. Nikki, I mean Kate, Kate Beckett. Is it Kate?"
"Yeah. Finally! I've been in love with her forever."
"I could tell."
Castle gasps in the cold, pre-dawn air. "You could? I thought I hid it really well."
Mathias pierces him with his light blue eyes. "You kidding? That was the worst secret ever. Every time I see you, saw you, the last couple of years you talked about her all the time. But congratulations. It must be serious if you're living together?"
"Very serious. I've never been so happily serious in my life. So, I'm here for the three little trees. Next week I'll be back for the big one."
"Do I get to meet her?" Mathias rubs his gloved hands together. "Why didn't you bring her with you today?"
"Long story, but she hasn't celebrated Christmas in ages."
"And she's living with you? Is she cuckoo?"
"I know. But I'm bringing her around to the idea. Baby steps."
"Baby steps? I've seen your place at Christmas, Rick. No, that's like a giant leap for her, right?"
"I've been building up slowly."
Mathias laughs so hard he's stamping his feet. "Sure."
"Hey, you know what? You just rolled your eyes exactly the way Kate does. You done laughing at me now?"
"Yes. All done." He puts his arm around Castle's shoulder. "Let's get you some trees."
Shortly after five he's walking in to the loft with a trio of perfect little balsams, which he carries upstairs to store in Alexis's bathroom. He goes back down humming "Frosty the Snowman," and hangs up his coat. "Time for coffee, Frosty," he says, as he takes out a bag of beans from the fridge.
"Frosty, huh?" a voice from behind him asks. "He your imaginary playmate this morning, Castle?"
"Geez, Beckett, you scared the pants off me."
"I did? Looks like they're still on to me." She walks into the kitchen, pulls on his belt and gives him a kiss. "Hey, you been out? Your face is cold."
"It is? Oh, yeah. I had a hankering for pastries and I thought they'd be open, the bakery, but turns out it's too early."
She looks at him sniffs. "Hmm." She sniffs again.
"Are you getting a cold?"
"Nope. I just smell fish. A fish story." She purses her lips and pushes them in and out.
"Excellent goldfish imitation. You want something to eat with your coffee? English muffin, maybe, since we don't have any pastries?"
"Stop trying to redirect this conversation, Castle. You didn't go out for pastries. Biggest fish story I've heard in a while."
"Okay, I confess. Put me under lox and key. That's good, isn't it? Lox? Fish story?"
"Yes, very good. But you're still redirecting. You gonna tell me where you really went?"
He sighs. "It's a surprise. I know you hate surprises, but there have to be some at Christmas."
"We said no presents, Castle. You promised."
"It's not a present. Just a little surprise, I swear." He passes her a mug. "Here, drink your coffee and I'll toast you a muffin."
"A toasted stud muffin," she mutters, sitting on a stool at the counter.
"I heard that. Stud muffin? I am. You're pretty gorgeous yourself. Listen, if we're not busy at the precinct today, do you mind if I leave a bit early?"
"This wouldn't have anything to do with the pastry-less surprise, would it?"
"It would. I just need a couple of hours."
In mid afternoon, since they're just mopping up the last bits of a case and can do without Castle, he goes home. He does the tree for his mother's bedroom first, setting it in a stand, putting it in a good place, then slipping costume-jewelry bracelets over the ends of several branches. The rhinestone ones give the fir sparkle; the red, blue, pink, orange, turquoise, white, green, purple, yellow, and striped bangles supply the color.
Alexis's is next. He has spent the six months since her high-school graduation tracking down small items related to Columbia University, most embossed with its logo. There are, among other things, a miniature sky-blue felt pennant from 1955; two handmade ornaments of the college's lion mascot that he bought on Etsy; a baby rattle that he hopes doesn't give her Any Ideas; a refrigerator magnet; a spoon; a fountain pen, and an old Zippo lighter. He's confident that he's safe with that one because she hates smoking.
He's saved the tree for the master bedroom last. He's nervous because this is the first Christmas thing he's undertaken that specifically involves Kate, is specifically for her. It takes him a long time to decorate the three-footer because he keeps moving everything around. He's only just finished when he hears the front door shut.
"Castle?" she calls as she unzips her boots.
"Hi," he says, coming through his office into the living room.
"What did you get up to after you left?"
"Up to? What do you mean?"
She grins and wiggles her fingers at him. "Aha! That was just a turn of phrase, but your answer makes me think that your real, unexpressed answer is 'no good.' That you were up to no good. Were you?"
"I'll have you know that I was up to lots of things, Beckett, all of them good. If you don't believe me, I'll show you." He has caught up to her, and draws her tight against his chest. Then he tilts up her chin and gives her a very long, very deep, very deliberately provocative kiss. "There," he says, pleased to note the rapid pulse in her neck and her very pink cheeks. "See? Wasn't that good?"
"That better not be what you've been doing all afternoon, Castle. Kissing someone like that when the someone wasn't me."
"Not a chance. You've ruined me." Another bit of restraint falls to the floor when he says, "C'mon, let me show you," grabs her hand, and starts walking up the stairs. When they get to Martha's room he swings open the door, points to the tree, and says, "Ta da!"
She walks over and carefully examines the bracelets, touching some, tilting them this way and that, and smiling. "This is wonderful. Castle. What a charming idea." She squeezes his hand. "Disarming, even."
That gets her a laugh. "Ooh, good one. Very quick, Detective. I bow to you."
"Thank you."
"Want to see Alexis's?"
"Of course."
They walk down the hall and he flicks on the overhead light in his daughter's room. The tree, which already smells deliciously balsamy, is on a footstool in front of one of the windows. "Oh, Castle," Beckett says as she looks it over. "She's going to love this."
"You don't think it's too corny?"
"How can it be too corny? It's Christmas."
He can hardly believe that he heard her right. "How can it be too corny? It's Christmas." She'd really said it. She's opened up to the holiday, at least that much. "Um, ready for yours, Kate?" he asks.
"Can't wait. Never had my very own personal tree."
What if she thinks it's dopey? Or? He doesn't know what or could be, just that he's anxious. He takes her hand again and walks with her to their room.
He'd put the tree between her nightstand and a chair so that she could see it if she's in bed or if she's sitting in the chair where she often puts on her shoes or boots, and sometimes reads. He's left a lamp on so the tree is in a pool of light. "Here you go."
The first thing she sees is the toy police car with NYPD on the side in blue letters. After that a little plush tiger, which he's hung next to a pair of pewter handcuffs. They're about the size of a quarter, and dangle from a red satin ribbon. "Nice juxtaposition," she says. "Only this tiger looks very sweet. Wouldn't hurt a fly."
So far, so good, he thinks.
"Oh Castle," she says tenderly, as she removes a tiny silver frame in which there's a photo that shows nothing but a pair of dark eyes. She puts the loop around around her finger. "That's you."
"It is. Because I only have eyes for you."
She returns it to the branch and looks carefully at the tree again. There's a red poker chip and a set of seven 2012 Metropolitan Museum shoe ornaments. Then she spies a key chain of a miniature New York license plate that says KATE. It also holds a key that she doesn't recognize, and she looks questioningly at him. "What's this?"
"You should flip it over. There's something written on the back."
Sure enough, there it is, in his precise handwriting, "For the key to my heart. And the Ferrari."
"Really?"
That sounded like a squeal. He's never heard her squeal.
"You're gonna let me drive it?"
"Yup."
"Whenever I want?"
"Yup."
She puts that back on the tree, too, and turns to the rest: two blown-glass ornaments, one of a coffee mug and the other of the façade of the New York Public Library, and one last thing. She has to bend over to see it properly: it's a silver charm of a calendar page that says MARCH 9. "Oh," she says, her eyes filling up.
"It's the day we met."
"I know it is," she says, her hand at her lips. "This is a tree about us."
"I was afraid you might think some of it was sappy."
"No such thing, Castle. Not at Christmas." She turns around and buries her face in his shirt. "Thank you. I love it."
"You're welcome," he says, happy to hold on to her like this for as long as she likes.
It's only after dinner, when they're watching television, that she realizes that she hasn't yet seen his holiday underwear du jour. He was already dressed when she got up, and she'd missed them. "You must be exhausted," she says, pressing her hand against his knee. "What time did you go out for the trees?"
"Four." He yawns. Power of suggestion, he thinks.
"Let's go to bed, then."
"It's not even ten."
"Well, I'll read, and you can go to sleep." But not before I get to see your boxers, she doesn't say.
She's getting undressed in the bedroom and can hear the rustle of his clothes landing in the bathroom hamper, followed by the whirr of his electric toothbrush. She dawdles so she can get the full effect when he comes back out.
And here he is, in a tee shirt and white shorts. This pair has only one print, a large one of Santa and the reindeer parked on the roof of a house. Rudolph has turned his head towards his boss, who's laughing; the balloon over the red-nosed reindeer's head says YOU SLEIGH ME!
For some inexplicable reason, this sets her off. She laughs so hard that she has to sit down, and Castle has no idea why.
"Kate? What's so funny?"
"You, Castle," she eventually manages to say. "You sleigh me. You do." She squeezes his shoulder on her way to the bathroom. Several times while she's brushing her teeth she has to stop: she's still laughing and doesn't want to choke on the toothpaste.
"You sound happy," he says when she gets into bed.
"I am."
"I'm glad."
"Me, too. Now go to sleep."
A few minutes later he does. And he looks happy, too.
She shuts her book, sets it on the nightstand, and looks at her tree. The silver frame with the photo of his eyes is catching the light, and it's as though he's winking at her. Keeping watch over her. A year or two ago it would have creeped her out, but not any more. Now she loves it. She turns out the light and slides all the way under the covers, rolling onto her left side so she can see him. She wants to make him something, too. She'd made him promise that they wouldn't give each other presents, but that doesn't mean she can't make him something, something for before Christmas. Something that lets him know that she's beginning to understand his love for the holiday. Maybe something will come to her in a dream. Something—she opens her eyes wide. She's got it! She's got it! She hopes he didn't hear her giggle.
TBC
A/N To all those who are reading, reviewing, following and/or favoriting, thank you. It fills me with pre-holiday joy.