(no subject)
Title: Who We Are and What We'll Be
Character(s)/Pairing(s): Castle/Beckett
Written For: literary_critic for the castle100 holiday drabble exchange
Prompt: Something about Christmases past (like they tell each other about Christmases when they were kids)
Word Count: 750 (um, drabble, what?)
Spoilers: Vague references to conversations from He's Dead, She's Dead (3x02) and Rise (4x01). Set in the current season.
Rating: PG
Beta: hope_tang, who always asks just the right questions and challenges me to write fic that's so much better than it would otherwise be. ♥
Summary: It's the middle of the night, and Castle has a brilliant idea.
Disclaimer: I don't own Castle and will never make a dime from this; I wouldn't even want to.
Author's Note: The title and general inspiration come from the Dropkick Murphys' "1953," which is absolutely gorgeous (and I pretty much never like ballads!) and can be heard here if you're interested. Happy Holidays, literary_critic, and I hope you enjoy this!
He reaches for her shoulder and runs his hand down her arm, softly asking “Hey Beckett, are you asleep?”
She doesn’t move, but mumbles, “I was.”
Ignoring her slightly disgruntled tone, he says “Well, since you’re awake now, I have a brilliant idea.”
She turns toward him this time, blinking. “And it wouldn’t be just as brilliant in the morning?”
He gazes at her, marveling once again that she’s just as beautiful even when she’s woken in the middle of the night. This has been happening for several weeks now, but he’s still awestruck that Kate Beckett is naked in his bed at long last.
“Castle?"
"Right. What are you doing on Saturday?"
"You woke me up to ask-"
"Alexis and Mother and I are going to get our Christmas tree. You should come with us, and bring your dad." He beams.
"Oh," she says, sounding surprised, "I don't know if-"
"It'll be fun, I promise. After we get the tree, we decorate it and play carols, and Mother makes her famous eggnog-which, I should warn you in advance, it’s best to drink slowly."
Beckett laughs. "I can imagine."
"Then we watch at least one of our favorite Christmas movies: The Grinch, Christmas Vacation, Die Hard and, of course, the Muppet Christmas Carol. Alexis was obsessed when she was little, and now it just doesn’t seem like Christmas without Kermit."
She smiles. “Why am I not surprised that you go all out for Christmas?”
‘Well, Mother and I never did too much when I was a kid. We usually just went to parties with her friends. When Alexis was born, I wanted her to have the kind of magical Christmases I always saw on TV.”
“That’s sweet, Castle.”
“You and your dad are coming here for Christmas, aren’t you?”
“We usually just go out for dinner. But…if you’re sure, that would be nice. We haven’t had a real Christmas celebration since…”she trails off, and he can hear the rest of the sentence as clearly as if she’d continued it.
“What did your family do for Christmas when you were a kid? I mean, since you stopped believing in Santa Claus when you were three,” he adds with mock disapproval.
She smiles, and he can see her eyes softening as the memories take her back in time. “Despite what you might think, you don’t need Santa Claus for Christmas. My mom loved this time of year and made it magical all on her own. We’d bake every different kind of Christmas cookie you can imagine and then drink hot cocoa while we decorated the tree. And we still did stockings, only we made things for each other instead of pretending it was Santa. Then she’d make a huge brunch after we opened our presents on Christmas morning.”
“That sounds wonderful.” He knows how rare it is for her to let go of the pain and simply bask in her memories, and he knows it’s even rarer that she’ll let anyone see it. He is honored by her hard-won trust.
“It was.” Her voice is bittersweet.
“Well, you know I make an excellent brunch, and I’ve invented a couple new and improved cookie recipes over the years.” He ignores her expression of feigned concern and continues, “I bet Alexis and Mother would love to bake cookies with us.”
“Yeah?”
“Maybe we can make it a new Christmas tradition,” he suggests hopefully, watching her eyes closely. There’s a flicker of something that isn’t exactly surprise and that he thinks might be a momentary return of her deep-rooted instinct to flee from even the hint of a future.
But she takes a breath, and he can almost see her master her fear. There’s a smile in both her voice and her eyes as she says, “Tradition, huh? As in something we do in future years?”
He knows it isn’t easy for her, but he also knows she wants this to work as much as he does, and he thinks she’s starting to trust what they’re becoming as much as what they’ve been. He smiles slowly at her. “If I have anything to say about it.”
A grin lights her face. “Well, you just might.”
He leans toward her, his hand tangling in her hair as their lips meet. He knows he’s pushed as far as he should for the moment, so he resists the urge to tell her he loves her. But he can show her, and that’s enough for now.
Character(s)/Pairing(s): Castle/Beckett
Written For: literary_critic for the castle100 holiday drabble exchange
Prompt: Something about Christmases past (like they tell each other about Christmases when they were kids)
Word Count: 750 (um, drabble, what?)
Spoilers: Vague references to conversations from He's Dead, She's Dead (3x02) and Rise (4x01). Set in the current season.
Rating: PG
Beta: hope_tang, who always asks just the right questions and challenges me to write fic that's so much better than it would otherwise be. ♥
Summary: It's the middle of the night, and Castle has a brilliant idea.
Disclaimer: I don't own Castle and will never make a dime from this; I wouldn't even want to.
Author's Note: The title and general inspiration come from the Dropkick Murphys' "1953," which is absolutely gorgeous (and I pretty much never like ballads!) and can be heard here if you're interested. Happy Holidays, literary_critic, and I hope you enjoy this!
He reaches for her shoulder and runs his hand down her arm, softly asking “Hey Beckett, are you asleep?”
She doesn’t move, but mumbles, “I was.”
Ignoring her slightly disgruntled tone, he says “Well, since you’re awake now, I have a brilliant idea.”
She turns toward him this time, blinking. “And it wouldn’t be just as brilliant in the morning?”
He gazes at her, marveling once again that she’s just as beautiful even when she’s woken in the middle of the night. This has been happening for several weeks now, but he’s still awestruck that Kate Beckett is naked in his bed at long last.
“Castle?"
"Right. What are you doing on Saturday?"
"You woke me up to ask-"
"Alexis and Mother and I are going to get our Christmas tree. You should come with us, and bring your dad." He beams.
"Oh," she says, sounding surprised, "I don't know if-"
"It'll be fun, I promise. After we get the tree, we decorate it and play carols, and Mother makes her famous eggnog-which, I should warn you in advance, it’s best to drink slowly."
Beckett laughs. "I can imagine."
"Then we watch at least one of our favorite Christmas movies: The Grinch, Christmas Vacation, Die Hard and, of course, the Muppet Christmas Carol. Alexis was obsessed when she was little, and now it just doesn’t seem like Christmas without Kermit."
She smiles. “Why am I not surprised that you go all out for Christmas?”
‘Well, Mother and I never did too much when I was a kid. We usually just went to parties with her friends. When Alexis was born, I wanted her to have the kind of magical Christmases I always saw on TV.”
“That’s sweet, Castle.”
“You and your dad are coming here for Christmas, aren’t you?”
“We usually just go out for dinner. But…if you’re sure, that would be nice. We haven’t had a real Christmas celebration since…”she trails off, and he can hear the rest of the sentence as clearly as if she’d continued it.
“What did your family do for Christmas when you were a kid? I mean, since you stopped believing in Santa Claus when you were three,” he adds with mock disapproval.
She smiles, and he can see her eyes softening as the memories take her back in time. “Despite what you might think, you don’t need Santa Claus for Christmas. My mom loved this time of year and made it magical all on her own. We’d bake every different kind of Christmas cookie you can imagine and then drink hot cocoa while we decorated the tree. And we still did stockings, only we made things for each other instead of pretending it was Santa. Then she’d make a huge brunch after we opened our presents on Christmas morning.”
“That sounds wonderful.” He knows how rare it is for her to let go of the pain and simply bask in her memories, and he knows it’s even rarer that she’ll let anyone see it. He is honored by her hard-won trust.
“It was.” Her voice is bittersweet.
“Well, you know I make an excellent brunch, and I’ve invented a couple new and improved cookie recipes over the years.” He ignores her expression of feigned concern and continues, “I bet Alexis and Mother would love to bake cookies with us.”
“Yeah?”
“Maybe we can make it a new Christmas tradition,” he suggests hopefully, watching her eyes closely. There’s a flicker of something that isn’t exactly surprise and that he thinks might be a momentary return of her deep-rooted instinct to flee from even the hint of a future.
But she takes a breath, and he can almost see her master her fear. There’s a smile in both her voice and her eyes as she says, “Tradition, huh? As in something we do in future years?”
He knows it isn’t easy for her, but he also knows she wants this to work as much as he does, and he thinks she’s starting to trust what they’re becoming as much as what they’ve been. He smiles slowly at her. “If I have anything to say about it.”
A grin lights her face. “Well, you just might.”
He leans toward her, his hand tangling in her hair as their lips meet. He knows he’s pushed as far as he should for the moment, so he resists the urge to tell her he loves her. But he can show her, and that’s enough for now.