6 months later
Beckett lay stretched out on Castle's couch, a book resting on her chest as she absentmindedly rubbed her stomach. The loft was warm and quiet, the fire crackling softly in the background.
Castle was in the kitchen, clattering around with pots and pans, though she wasn't entirely sure he knew what he was doing.
Then it happened—a faint flutter, like the brush of butterfly wings. She froze, her hand stilling against her stomach.
"Castle," she called, her voice unsteady.
He appeared almost instantly, concern etched across his face. "What's wrong?"
She shook her head, a smile breaking across her face. "Nothing's wrong. The baby… it just kicked."
Castle's face lit up, and he stepped closer, his excitement palpable. "Seriously? Can I—?"
Beckett nodded, and he placed his hand gently on her stomach. For a moment, there was nothing, and then there it was again—a tiny nudge. Castle grinned, his eyes bright. "That's amazing. That's… that's our kid."