Kate rouses with the inside of midnight pushing up against her skin, thick with ink and the quiet rush of never-ceasing traffic in the street below. Struggling her way free from the sheets, her toes curl violently against the chill of the hardwood. In the bed, Castle lies on his back. His face is slack with sleep and Kate can't help but take a moment to watch him.
So beautiful. Sleep makes him look younger than his years so every time she wakes up next to him Beckett finds herself faced with a hot surge of silly affection for the little boy in him.
Speaking of children, Brooke's fussing grows ever more insistent. Still not particularly loud, not enough to rouse Castle, but the girl is undeniably upset. Kate moves to the bassinet and lifts the girl, her blanket getting caught between their bodies.
She does her best to fix it around her niece, cocoon the baby in something of home. Arranging Brooke until the girl's head is pillowed against her shoulder, Kate curls her arm underneath the baby and splays her other hand at her back to keep her close.
Slipping into the living room, Kate flicks on a lamp and stands for a moment looking out over her city, the pool of light that splashes onto the floor just touching her toes. The baby in her arms is deliciously warm, little mouth open against her clavicle, and Kate watches the slow thread of partygoers, tourists and late shift workers through the streets.
This has always been one of her favourite things about the loft. In those early months when she'd wake up with her heart so thick in her throat that her veins cried out for oxygen, still trying to let herself relax into it, she used to stand for hours and just watch the people far below her, scurrying like ants beneath the magnifying glass.
She loves him. She does. But in the beginning, without the brush of his mouth or the tender arc of his smile to distract her, there were times when she panicked. It took her some time to wrap her brain around the fact that this is it.
There will never be anyone after Castle. No one else she could possibly let in as far as Rick has managed to get. Probably, if she's honest with herself, no one that would bother to try.
And now she's standing here, silhouetted against the windowpane by the muted lamplight with her niece in her arms and a twist in her gut. Brooke begins to whimper again, quiet little noises that sound as much like indignation as Kate imagines a four month old is capable of.
"I know, sweet girl. You're hungry. I'll stop daydreaming." She tightens her arms around the girl and presses scattered kisses to her wrinkled little forehead, moving over to the refrigerator. Staring at the door that looms before her, Kate wonders how on earth she's going to manage to heat up a bottle one-handed.
Of course she could just put Brooke back down in the bassinet, but the tension that hums just underneath her powdery, perfect skin suggests that that wouldn't be a great idea. The girl isn't just looking for food but for the closeness of another human being, someone to stand in for her mother.
Her cries grow higher still in pitch and Kate winces, bouncing her niece gently in her arms in an attempt to soothe. "Okay baby, it's coming. Shh, it's okay. You're okay."
Brooke's face is red now, her eyes screwed up as her mouth opens wide on a cry that seems ripped right from her core. The helplessness comes for Kate like a sucking tide, threatening to drag her down into the sweet peace of drowning.
The girl wants her mother. And Kate knows that feeling all too well, knows what it's like to have a hole open up in your chest, the jagged edges tearing you to ribbons as you fall inside.
Well, okay. Perhaps not. After all, Brooke is four months old. And facing only one night apart from her mother, not the rest of her life. It's just the anguish of her cries and the too-low numbers that blink at her in red from the microwave and having utterly no idea of what to do.
Nothing. She has to feed the baby, but she's terrified to put her down. And that's so stupid; she's a damn homicide detective. It absolutely should not be this hard.
"Hey. You two okay?" The ripple of Castle's voice brings with it a rush of relief that threatens to bring her to her knees right here in the middle of the kitchen.
Kate turns to watch him moving through the living room, sleep dragging at his heels and tripping him up, making him crash into the end table, the armchair. Her eyes flood with silly tears and she dips her head to hide them, setting her mouth at Brooke's crown.
When Castle reaches her, he doesn't try to take the baby and she is inordinately grateful. Instead, he wraps his arms around the both of them and bears Kate's weight as she crashes into his chest.
"Hey, my girls. Don't cry, baby. You're okay." He kisses the girl's cheek, offers her a grin so wide and ridiculous it seems to momentarily startle Brooke into silence. And then he looks at Kate, and she has never been able to hide from him. "Kate, love, why didn't you wake me? You don't have to do this by yourself."
"I just wanted-" her voice breaks on a sob and she grits her teeth, pressing her forehead hard into his clavicle as if it will help her to just get a damn hold of herself. "I wanted to prove that I could."
"I know you could. Of course you could. But why try when you don't have to? Standing in the kitchen by yourself at three in the morning with a screaming baby is only going to make you miserable, Beckett."
Oh, bless this beautiful man and his words. Her last name makes her stand up a little straighter, stokes the ever-present fire of that part of herself. It feels like steel, caressing the hard edges of bone at her spine, her ribs and shoulder blades.
"I'm sorry."
"No, no. Don't be." He kisses her, close-mouthed and mindful of the stale taste underneath both of their tongues. Kate lets him take the baby, freeing her hands to get a bottle from the fridge and put it in the warmer.
Rounding the counter, Kate rests her temple against Castle's bicep and traces the curve of the baby's cheek with a fingertip, letting a smile overtake her face when Brooke grabs on. So tiny and beautiful and God, she can't wait to have her own child in her arms.
"I want to start trying. Soon." She murmurs, almost to herself.
Castle curls the fingers of his free hand under her chin, lifting her face to him for a kiss. She can feel how badly he wants to stroke deep inside of her mouth and lay claim but something, the morning breath or the baby watching their every move, keeps him chaste. Just brushing his mouth insistently to hers over and over.
"Can we wait until after the wedding?" He hums, voice low to help soothe Brooke. It seems to be working, her cries have tailed off into the occasional whimper as if her uncle's presence has thoroughly distracted her from her earlier hunger. "I want you to be my wife first."
Kate huffs a breath of laughter even as she's nuzzling her nose against his neck and allowing herself to imagine it. Walking down the aisle towards him, tall and overjoyed and so handsome in his suit she just knows he'll make her mouth dry.
"Oh what, now you're being all traditional?"
He shrugs, wincing as it jostles the sleepy girl in his arms and her eyes startle open again, mouth opened to renew her wailing. "I don't want your dad to kill me. And also, yeah. I want to get it right this time."
"Okay. Yeah, let's get married first." She grins, finds herself totally unable to stop the slow spread of joy across her face. It buzzes in her fingertips, right down into her toes like static against the tile.
"And Kate? Part of getting it right means sharing it with someone. We do this as a team. You and me."
Kate beams at him, pressing her mouth to the scattering of stubble across his jaw and raking her teeth gently over the smooth patch at his throat where it doesn't grow. "Partners."
"Exactly." Castle grins. He looks so pleased with her, that she wants to do this, and it makes her whole body flush with something like pride. The warmer beeps at them before she can do something silly like tell him just how much she really does need him and Kate goes for the bottle, trembling just a little with relief.
It's not that she doesn't want him to know, exactly. It's just that he fell in love with Detective Beckett, strong and fiercely independent, and sometimes she's still afraid that he won't want to see her vulnerable side.
Okay, yes. Rationally she knows how stupid that is, unfair to him really. But it's three am, cut her some slack.
Kate follows him over to the couch and hands him the bottle, content to curl up at his side and watch him feed Brooke. The baby goes finally, blissfully quiet, and Kate wraps her fingers around a tiny foot, her eyelashes drifting closed.
"See," he grins into her hair, "even the middle of the night feeds aren't that bad. And if you wanted to breastfeed it would be even easier. I'll bring you tea and toast and you can stay in bed with the baby."
God, just hearing him talk about it tightens the fist of want in her stomach, her body rioting in anticipation. How much she wants to see him hold their child for the first time, read stories and pull stupid faces and always be available for cuddles.
Castle gave Alexis the whole universe. Not just in material things but in experiences, depth of knowledge. He made everything as rich and fulfilling as he could, and there's not even a seed of doubt that he will do the same for their children.
"Castle?"
"Mm?" He aims a kiss at her cheek and falls somewhere more towards her ear but it's still good, still sweet. Sometimes she prefers the kisses he drops in passing to when he actually tries. It's nice to see which parts of her he loves most when he's not really paying attention.
"Thank you."
And she's so grateful that he doesn't make her elaborate, seems to just know how her chest swells with gratitude. For him, for this life she's so blessed with. "You're welcome, Kate. Thank you."
It's not even the baby that wakes him.
It's Kate, leaning in to press her mouth to his forehead, her fingertips just skimming his cheek. "I'm going to work. I gave her another bottle. Call me when you're awake."
Oh, he loves her. Her and short sentences, because she knows he's really not equipped to deal with anything more complex at this time in the morning. The softness of her body, how a part of her yearns to melt back into the sheets with him and she doesn't even bother with trying to hide it.
"M'kay. Bye. Call you. Bye."
His eyes still closed, he hears the soft breath of her laughter and imagines the parentheses it carves into her cheeks and around her eyes, the glitter of joy in them as she regards him. He doesn't hear her go, already slipping underneath the surface to glance up at wakefulness, blinding above him, and then sink down into ink and peace.
The next time he wakes, his eyes come unstuck easily and he can sit up without feeling still tethered to his pillow. Castle slides out of bed and moves to the bassinet. Somehow, miraculously, Brooke is sleeping.
He debates for a moment, and then shrugs. Moving for the shower, he leaves the bathroom door open. He can see right into the crib from the shower, so even if he can't hear over the water he'll know if she wakes up.
Keeping it quick, he scrubs shampoo through his hair and lathers on his shower gel, barely even giving it time to touch him before he's rinsing off again. He steps out of the cubicle and knots a towel at his hips, using Kate's from this morning to scrub over his hair.
It smells like a delicious combination of the both of them and it's a concerted effort not to just sink down onto the tile and bury his face in the soft cotton.
Hurrying through shaving and getting dressed, Rick is relieved to find Brooke awake but seemingly content. He scoops her up and grins, kissing both of her cheeks on the way through to the living room. "Good morning, beautiful girl. Aunty Kate already gave you a bottle, hmm?"
Brooke gurgles at him and he laughs, shifting her higher up his shoulder so he can support her with one arm. The other free to get a cup of coffee.
"Oh, look at that, she made coffee too. Your aunt is a wonderful woman." He grins against his niece's hair, bouncing her until she giggles. She splays a hand at his cheek and buries her face against his neck, suddenly shy.
Rick can't actually wipe the smile off of his face at all so he lets it bloom as he pours a fresh mug of coffee and adds cream. Moving to the couch, he eases the baby down to the soft play mat and wraps both hands around his mug, the liquid tasting all the better having been infused with Kate's love.
Oh God, he's a sap this morning. He really ought to get it together, only he's not entirely sure how. Not when every time he lets his mind wander for a moment he's suffused with images of a tangible future, his wife and his children and the life he never quite dared hope for.
He watches Brooke reaching up to bat at the plush elephant, taking slow drags of his coffee and curling his toes until they crunch. A knock at the door startles him so hard he almost spills the coffee all over his lap. He wasn't expecting it this early, but then he supposes if he were the Ryans he'd want to rush home too.
Castle gathers his niece up and answers the door, ushering Kevin and Jenny inside the loft and handing the baby over to her mother. Jenny's eyes are full with tears she doesn't let fall, her face buried in the soft crease of her daughter's neck.
"Hey guys. The funeral okay?"
"It was really great actually, as funerals go. Glad to be home, though." Ryan says, kissing the crown of his baby girl's head and then his wife's cheek.
Jenny glances up at him, her palm curled around the back of Brooke's skull. "She was okay?"
"Oh yeah, fine. She's a really wonderful kid." Castle beams at them, smoothing his thumb over his niece's little fist.
Ryan shakes his hand, his other palm settled at the curve of Jenny's spine. "Thank you so much for having her. If there's anything we can ever do for you, let us know. Kate too."
"Of course. It really wasn't a problem."
Castle moves through to the study, finds that Kate has already packed up all of the things the Ryans left for their daughter. He hefts the bag over his shoulder and grabs the bassinet, moving back through to the entryway and snagging the soft play mat on his way.
Ryan takes his belongings back from Castle and opens the door, ushering his wife into the hallway. "We'll get out of your hair. Thanks again."
"See you at the precinct. Lovely to see you, Jenny." Rick says, leaning back against the doorframe and watching the three of them as they make their way towards the elevator. They look so happy, the three of them together.
He wants it. He wants it so badly he's glad for the wall at his spine, the image in his mind threatening to knock him right over.
And the best part?
The best part is that he gets to have it, do all of it. With the woman he loves beyond his capacity to love.
A/N: I'm marking this as complete, but I'm almost certain that there'll be an epilogue. Don't hold me to that though.
Thank you all for your feedback, your feels and your fangirling. It has been truly a joy to write and to see your reactions.