Disclaimer: The only part of Castle that I own is the TV on which I watch the show.

Where on earth is Beckett? Castle's sure that she's here. If she were going out, she'd have texted him, and, she knew that he was bringing home one of her favorite dinners. Still, she's nowhere. He's called, he's looked, and he's getting nervous. And then he hears a thunk. From upstairs. He'd checked there. Did somebody manage to get into the loft? He quickly toes off his shoes and goes to the bottom of the stairs, heart pounding, but stops when he hears something else.

"Shit."

Ah, that's more like it. That one syllable is definitely Beckett. He smiles as he runs up the stairs. Her voice seemed to have come from the baby's room, so that's where he's heading. Aha! The closet door, which had been closed, is open now and he can see her standing just inside.

"Beckett? What are you doing?"

She doesn't move.

Oh, she's listening to music. When he calls her name loudly she looks up and smiles. Grasping a lamp in one hand, she pops her earbuds out with the other. "Hi, Castle."

"Hi. What are you doing?"

"I dropped this Yankee lamp you got at the game last month and I thought that I'd broken it, but it's fine," she says, holding it up triumphantly, as if she were expecting him to inspect it.

"Okay, good. But I meant what are you doing up here in the closet?"

"Nesting."

"Resting?"

"She's not resting, Dad. I don't know what she's doing, but she's bouncing around all over the place and banging drawers and stuff."

"No, nesting. You must have read about it in one of the books that you've ingested over the last few months. The urge, sometimes even compulsion, that takes over a lot of pregnant women. Makes them want to build a nest, or tidy up the nest, before the baby bird hatches."

"Are we getting a baby bird for a pet? What kind of bird?"

"And clearly this has happened to you."

"Yup, earlier today. It just sort of came over me. I'm not using anything that's been mauled in the store or dropped on the floor without cleaning it first. So I took everything that we'll need in the first three months, the onesies and undershirts and socks and caps and bibs and blankets and sheets, and ran it all through the washer and drier. And then I hung a few things in here and folded up everything else and put it in the drawers." She pulls open several and sweeps her hand over them. "See?"

He's impressed by all the perfect little piles, organized not just by category but by color, pattern and size. "Wow, Beckett, have you ever considered a career in retail? This is amazing."

"Are all those things you're talking about for the baby bird or for me?"

"I think I'm pretty much done in here, Castle, but we have to get the furniture. The room is empty. We really have to go buy furniture now."

"Uh, it's pretty late." He doesn't want to seem unenthusiastic or unsupportive, but is she nuts? Not nuts, nesting. A squirrel's nest, full of nuts. He has to get control of himself. He rubs his eyes. "Seven-thirty, and dinner's ready in the kitchen. Time to eat. Could this wait until tomorrow? You're off tomorrow, right?"

"I bet the stores are still open, but okay." She sighs. "I guess so."

He gives her a hug. "I think it'll be better tomorrow. We won't be rushed. Or anything. Let's go eat now."

"Right, Dad! Let's go eat now."

They do eat, right then. Beckett is, no surprise, so tired by the end of the meal that she falls asleep holding a fork that's speared her last bite of blueberry pie. Castle scoops her up and carries her to bed.

The next morning, before she has even burned her tongue on her one-mug-a-day coffee, Beckett is checking her phone for the opening times of the two baby furniture stores they've chosen. "Damn. We have to wait until ten, for both of them."

"You know," Castle says from his perch next to her, "this is a strange new experience for me because I'm the shopper, not you. You hate shopping, except for clothes. And your shoes, especially your shoes, Imelda."

She turns and gives him The Look. "Imelda Marcos had one thousand sixty pairs of shoes. You can't possibly mention me in the same breath."

He's chuckling. "I can't help but note both the precision of the number you cited and the fact that it spilled right out of your mouth. Facts at your fingertips, hmm?"

She slides off the stool and goes to the fridge. "Pfff. Just for that, I'm getting some yogurt just for me, not you. You'll have to fend for yourself."

"Okay. Just to let you know that I'll be ready at nine-thirty so we can be the first customers in the store."

And they are. They're waiting at the door when a salesperson unlocks it and welcomes them in. Castle is a cruiser: he likes to check out every model of everything, including things he has no real interest in or any intention of buying. Beckett, on the other hand, is like a perfectly calibrated missile: she knows exactly what she wants and zeroes in on it. In a quarter of an hour she has chosen all four things on their list—changing table, chest of drawers, bassinet and crib—while he's still checking out the gizmos on each stroller in the place. They already have a stroller.

Beckett walks over and taps him on the shoulder. "Castle? I hate to drag you away from Stroller Nirvana, but I'm all set. Come and see what I chose. If you don't like it we'll look at some other things, but I love what I found."

He's flabbergasted. "Really? How could you all set?"

"Because I read up on everything available before we came, that's how. C'mon."

"I did, too, but, you know." With a last look over his shoulder at an $1,800 twin stroller—"Castle, I'm carrying one kid in here, not two"—he follows his wife to the array of changing tables. Twenty minutes later, he has signed off on all her choices.

"Beckett, you have incredible taste in baby furniture, as in everything else, including me," he says, looking into the beautiful bassinet that they're about to buy. "You know, this is so small. It's hard to believe how tiny the baby is going to be at first, sleeping in this."

"Kind of makes it more real for me, that's for sure," she says, patting her belly and smiling.

"Small? I have to sleep in something small? Why can't I stay in your big bed with you?"

Once they've paid and made arrangements for the store to deliver and set up the furniture, Castle takes Beckett's hand. "Riverside Park is just two blocks away and it's still cool out. Want to take a little walk along the river?"

"Absolutely."

They've gone only a few hundred yards along the water when they come to a cafe. "Aha," Beckett says. "I sense an ulterior motive in your choice of promenade."

"You have to admit that the view is great. Besides, all I ate at home was yogurt and shopping gave me an appetite. Plus they have unbelievable blueberry pancakes here. With real maple syrup, not that horrible imitation stuff."

"Okay you talked me into it," she says, as they settle in at their table overlooking the boat basin.

"Thanks, Dad. I was worried that all she was going to have was some melon."

"Do you feel like you're still nesting, or are you done?" Castle asks when they've finished eating.

"I think I'm done. Feels great, though, getting the nest ready."

"So, the baby bird, eh? What are we going to call it, Robin? Jay? Raven? Lark? Phoenix?"

"Oh, man. I bet that bird gets a name before I do."