The apartment is quiet and dark when he walks through the front door. He toes his shoes off, puts his jacket in the closet, and hangs the keys up on the hook next to hers. So she's home. Now he just needs to find her.
He's as silent as possible as he checks the upstairs nursery, finds it empty, just the stars and moon mobile casting soft light onto the pale, buttery yellow walls.
He nearly misses her on the couch as he goes toward the bedroom. She's stretched out, head resting on the pile of pillows near the arm of the couch. Her braid is falling out, strands curling at her cheeks and neck. Her mouth is open, slack with sleep.
But her hands are steady against the newborn's back. She's keeping the tiny girl against her chest, making sure she doesn't roll off onto the floor.
He expects to see the baby as asleep as her mother but when he kneels next to the couch, he finds the cloudy grey eyes blinking at him.
"Hey, pretty girl," he whispers, stroking a finger down her chubby cheek and drawing a smile from her. "You being good for Mom?"
"Yeah, she is," comes the slurred response. Beckett's eyes are still closed but one hand drops to his thigh. "Hi."
He leans forward, brushing his lips across hers briefly. "Calm day?"
She hums, the hand still on the baby's back smoothing up and down. "She must have inherited all of my traits. Even when she cried, she was quiet."
"Oh, we both know you're not quiet," he murmurs into her hair.
Beckett covers the baby's head with her hand, opening her eyes into a glare. "Not in front of the innocent ears, Castle."
He smirks, scooping the baby off Beckett's chest and cradling the tiny body against his. When Beckett reaches for the girl's sock, he swats her hand away gently. "Go back to sleep. I can take care of her for the next hour."
"She'll want to be fed at five," she sighs, curling into the cushions, her legs drawing up. "Wake me up then?"
"Of course," he says, pushing a kiss into the corner of her mouth. "Take your nap."