Taken from a photo prompt, which can be found at castleincalifornia dot tumblr dot com slash post slash 145529238013.
She was alone when she lay down to take a nap, but upon waking, Kate finds her husband's front plastered to her back, their limbs tangled and his hand resting on her swollen, eight-month pregnant belly. She must have crashed for a few hours, at least; the afternoon sun is slanting across the ceiling in broad, golden swaths, bidding farewell to the afternoon and welcoming evening in its stead.
She inhales deeply as she stretches, cleansing her lungs of slumber and picking up the faint chemical smell of paint under the familiar scent of Castle's aftershave. They'd spent the afternoon converting a spare bedroom at the Hamptons house into a nursery, covering the walls in sunny shades of orange and yellow. Kate had decided at the very last moment that she didn't want to know the sex of their child, so they settled on some vibrant gender-neutral colors for the theme.
Of course, she had fretted over the details afterward, second-guessing her decision every five minutes, but the room had turned out beautifully in the end, the brilliant hues reminding her of the sunset bonfires they'd built on the shore in years past. Cuddling under blankets, roasting marshmallows, making love on the beach under star-sprinkled skies….they'd created so many idyllic memories here. She can't wait to share this place with their child…their children? It makes her insides flutter, thinking about all of the possible futures that await them.
Castle is rousing as well, sighing into the soft hairs at the nape of her neck, his warm breath tickling her skin. "Have a nice nap?"
"Mmmmm…yes. Very nice. Thank you for taking over the painting duties."
"It was my pleasure. Besides, you need your rest. I think you're gonna like the finished product, by the way."
He takes such good care of her, is so endlessly generous, and it makes her heart surge against her ribs. "Really? It's all done? Oh, I can't wait to see it."
"Soon. Let's lie here a little longer." He snuggles closer into her backside, aligning their bodies like teaspoons in a silverware drawer. Long before they were ever a couple, she had suspected they would just fit together, and she wasn't wrong.
It's at that moment their unborn child decides to make themselves known, stretching his or her limbs and taking some lazy swim strokes inside her abdomen. Castle's hand catches the movement, his wide palm spanning as much of her baby bump as he can, chasing the butterfly motions just under the surface.
"Looks like we're not the only ones who just woke up," he murmurs against her ear, his voice still thick with sleepy gravel.
"She just likes showing off for her daddy." The feminine pronoun just slips out, like it so often does lately. She doesn't know why, can't nail down the source of her certainty, but Kate would bet money that this little one is female.
"Still convinced we're having a girl, huh?" There's the unmistakable hint of a grin and no small amount of teasing in his tone.
She grunts, her defensiveness swelling suddenly, unexpectedly. Castle is usually the one who believes in magic and omens and sixth-sense kinds of prophecies, but there's something prodding the back of her brain that insists they're having a daughter. And for once in her life, she's choosing to trust her instincts and believe what her gut tells her to be true.
"I know you think I'm being ridiculous, but…" the words erupt from somewhere deep within, sharper than she intends.
"Whoa, hey, Kate. Hold up, please. I never said that. I don't think you're ridiculous at all." His voice is soft, his fingers flexing on her belly in an attempt to distract her from the outburst she was gearing up for, and she slumps against him, her protest dying in her throat.
He's right; she knows she's being irrational, the flood of pregnancy hormones in her bloodstream making her edgy and irritable in a way that's uncharacteristic. She's always prided herself on being in control, but lately, her emotions have her spinning unpredictably, often leaving her exhausted and embarrassed after the fact.
But this is Castle she's talking to, she reminds herself. This is her husband and her best friend and probably the most loving, understanding soul she's ever encountered in her life. He doesn't deserve her misplaced ire.
"Sorry," she murmurs.
"No need for apologies. You're thirty-seven weeks pregnant. You're allowed to lash out at the man who's responsible for putting you in this condition."
She huffs out a laugh at that; he's grown so intuitive, so good at knowing the right thing to say to talk her down. He believes in her in a way no one else ever has. She takes a deep, calming breath, any remaining fight draining from her body, and she hopes he'll interpret that as his cue to continue. He does.
"Listen, you know I have nothing but absolute, unwavering confidence in your instincts. So, if you believe this little one is a girl-" he takes a moment to run his hand possessively over her belly, "-then I believe you. I'm just wondering why."
He simply yearns to grasp where she's coming from, his natural curiosity a living, breathing thing. But she has only the vaguest theory as to how this notion came to be so firmly implanted in her mind. It's one of those things she just knows.
Her fingers glide down his forearm until they can lace with his over her stomach, the baby nudging against their joined hands.
"I'm not sure I can explain it. Do you remember, right around the beginning of my second trimester, that really vivid dream I had about my mom?"
"Of course. I remember you frantically telling me the details the morning after, so you wouldn't forget."
She sighs happily, basking in the warmth of the memory. "Exactly. And I told you about how she was discussing motherhood, and reminiscing about when I was a child. I can't describe it, but something about hearing her talk about the mother-daughter bond, it just…it spoke to me, to my heart. And ever since, I've felt certain we're having a girl."
Castle presses his smile against her neck; she knows how much it pleases him that she can talk about her mom like this now, revel in the way she lived rather than drown in the way she died.
"Sure. There are things that touch us deep within, that whisper to our souls. Things that are beyond our comprehension. I get that."
She exhales her relief; of course he understands. He believes in every last crazy mystery of the universe. It's who he is, and while that tendency has been known to drive her insane in the past, today it pleases her to no end.
"I mean, obviously, I don't actually know. We'll just have to wait and see, Castle."
"Beckett, if you believe it, I believe it."
He clutches her tightly around her middle, their bodies snug and fitting, so right together. Sometimes it shoots her through with regret, knowing they waited so long to be together, in no small part because of her and her walls, because she insisted on holding him at a distance. But they're here now, drinking up every last drop of this happiness they've found together, and she can't bring herself to dwell on what might have been or never was.
"I've been thinking about names, actually. Interested?"
"You're kidding, right? Yes, do tell."
"Well, I know we've talked about family names, and you suggested doing something to honor my mom. And I love that idea, but I don't think I want to use her given name. It just strikes me as too maudlin."
"What did you have in mind, then?"
"Well, I was thinking about her favorite flower."
"And that was?"
"Lily."
Thank you for reading...as always, I'd love to hear your thoughts.