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Story: "Here With You"
Rating: K+
Words: 1,976
Wrinkles in the pillow
case. Warmth. The soft indent of her body still imprinted in the sheets.
Castle smiles softly
despite her absence, breathes deeply, catching a whiff of her scent still
lingering in the air of the bedroom. The gray light of dawn makes its way
through the edges of the blinds, just enough light for Castle to make out the
faint outlines of objects in the room, and he scans for her form amongst the
shadows but finds nothing.
The blankets are pushed
back on her side but everything else appears untouched, just the way they left
it last night before tumbling into bed for two rounds of what most certainly
put them on Santa’s naughty list. But Castle cannot be bothered to care,
because he is spending Christmas with Kate and that is everything he has ever
wanted and more.
He smiles at the
thought, shoves the covers down and slips out of bed. The floor is cold against
his bare feet and he slides them into a pair of slippers, dons a bathrobe
before going off in search of his girlfriend. He peers into the office first,
finds nothing, sleepily crosses through to the living room. He automatically
reaches for the light switch as he nears the threshold but his hand freezes in
midair as he steps into the room, rendered breathless at the sight before him.
The white lights on the
Christmas tree are burning brightly, twinkling against the darkness and
eliminating the need for any other source of illumination. The room is cast in
an incandescent glow and Castle can almost feel the magic in the air, so many
emotions and sensations weaving together to create the scene before him, the
feeling that is overtaking him.
He feels his heart
bubble over with joy and pure, unbridled love as his eyes fall on his
girlfriend. Kate stands near the window, blinds pulled back as she gazes out at
the city, transformed by the freshly falling snow. The landscape is coated in a
soft white blanket and the normal sounds of the nightlife are muffled by the
combination of the snow and the city lights shining through the flakes that continue
to dance their way to the ground. But Castle notices none of that.
Because Kate is
silhouetted against the glass, skin glowing amber in the mellow lighting, edges
of her hair a golden halo, and it is the most beautiful sight Castle has ever
laid eyes on. She is still, seemingly unaware of his presence, one arm folded
across her chest, the other bent and clutching a mug as she stares out into the
darkness. She is wearing one of his button-down shirts, probably the one she
took off of him last night, and the hemline falls high on her thighs, exposing
the lines of her long slender legs.
Castle falters, torn
between retrieving his phone to take a picture, going over to her, or crawling
back into bed and savoring this memory, forever untarnished and undisturbed.
But before he can
decide, Kate drops her arm, silently reaches it back behind her. At the same
time, her reflection in the window pane smiles and he realizes that she has
seen him standing there all along.
Quietly, he tiptoes
across the living room, unwilling to disturb the peaceful stillness that has
settled over them. Even once he reaches her, once he entwines their fingers and
allows her to pull him right up against her, his chest to her back, he still
says nothing. Merely wraps his arms around her waist from behind, rests his
chin on her shoulder, and gazes out into the night with her.
Neither speaks for what
might be five minutes or perhaps thirty as they stand there together, wrapped
up in each other and the magic of their first Christmas together. From time to
time, Kate raises the mug to her lips, takes a sip of hot cocoa, and Castle’s
fingers are not idle, drawing random patterns on her stomach. She occasionally
feels the faint brush of his eyelashes against her temple but aside from that,
neither move, unwilling to break the spell.
At long last, Kate sighs
softly, speaks in a voice so quiet that Castle is not sure she intends her
words to be heard.
“I miss her.”
His arms tighten their
hold almost imperceptibly and he replies automatically, voice gentle and
understanding. “I know you do.”
“I came home for my
first winter break,” she begins, and Castle feels his heart flutter, as he
always does when she reveals a new piece of herself. “I flew in from California
about a week before Christmas. I could have come home sooner but I wanted to
stay and enjoy the freedom and the sunshine, you know?”
He nods against her,
chin scraping the curve of her shoulder, silent persuasion to continue.
“I spent…” she pauses.
“I spent Christmas Eve and Christmas Day with my family, but most of the rest
of it, my parents were at work and I was out with friends. I was a bit of a
rebel back then,” Kate adds with a laugh and Castle chuckles softly in her ear.
“Tattoo, motorcycle, alcohol. Exploring my newfound freedom like every college
freshman. I remember not wanting to come home because I didn’t want to give
that up.”
Castle nods in
agreement, remembering not only his own experiences but also the current
situation with Alexis and her desire to cling to her independence while he
fights to maintain their family traditions.
“In retrospect, my
parents were really good about not treating me like I was still in high school.
But at the time…”
“Yeah,” he murmurs.
She shakes her head. “I
was different, you know? Everyone changes when they first go off on their own.
But I got home and everything was exactly the same. House decorated the same,
my stocking hanging from the same place on the mantle, the same assortment of
Christmas goodies. My mom did manage to persuade me to go ice skating with her,
though. Just like always,” Kate mentions, and Castle smiles against her cheek,
recalling the night in her apartment two years back in which they found those
final pictures of mother and daughter, laughed over Kate’s skating abilities.
“But other than that…”
She shakes her head sadly. “I spent the whole three weeks feeling stifled by
the way everything was the same, and now…” she trails off, takes a deep breath
and releases it slowly, slightly shaky. “Now I’d give anything to have
Christmas the way it used to be.”
He has no idea what to
say to this, simply holds her tighter in hopes that his presence will help ease
the burden.
“I don’t really
celebrate that much anymore,” she admits quietly, raising her mug to her lips
once again, ingesting the remaining liquid in one swallow. “My dad and I do
something small, lunch and exchanging gifts, but it’s not the same. It never
will be.”
“You’re right,” Castle
begins, is silenced when Kate turns in his arms, presses her index finger over
his lips. He nods, waits for her to continue.
“I’m glad you invited
me, Castle. It’s been…it’s been a long time since I’ve truly celebrated a
holiday. And…maybe…maybe it’s time to start making some new memories.”
Her words wake something
deep inside of him, possessiveness, pride, love, and he coaxes the mug from her
hand, sets it on the nearest flat surface before wrapping her in his embrace.
His arms are secure around her, nose buried in her hair, and even in such a
simple gesture, Kate feels so incredibly loved, so very thankful for Castle and
his willingness to open his heart and his home to her.
“I’m so glad you’re
here,” he breathes into her neck, presses his lips to the side of her skull.
“Me too,” she replies on
a trembling breath, clings to him more tightly.
“And, Kate?” Castle
speaks after a moment, leans back enough to meet her eyes.
She lifts her head,
seeks him out. “Hmmm?”
“Maybe your mom isn’t
here in person, but she’s here with you every day.” He unwraps one of his arms
from her waist, brings it between them and presses his palm flat against her
chest, directly over her heart. “Right here.”
A tear slips from the
corner of one eye, blazes a trail down her cheek, and Kate blinks but makes no
move to wipe it away. She leans in, rests her forehead against Castle’s as she
fights the wave of moisture pooling in her eyes. He simply holds her, hands
running soothingly up and down her back as she fights through the pain of
missing her mom combined with the cherished memories of their time together.
“Come back to bed?” he
asks after a while.
She lifts her head, nods
and smiles lovingly. “Lead the way.”
He twines their hands
together, turns and tugs gently, and she pads across the room after him. She
falters as they pass the tree, eyes trained on the beautiful silver snowflake
ornament that hangs at eye level, reflecting the white lights in an almost
kaleidoscopic pattern. Castle feels her hesitance, turns and follows her line
of vision just as she reaches out to trace the edges of the piece, the metal
cool against her fingertip.
Kate told him the story
yesterday morning when she hung it on the branch, reluctant but equally tired
of Castle’s insistent demands that she add at least a few of her own ornaments
to the tree. She was no good at this. Any of it. She was hesitant to step into
their family’s Christmas, into their happiness and their traditions, not solely
because of her mother, but also because she was not sure what it all meant. She
was sure about Castle, about them. What she was unsure about was whether she
was ready to be pulled into their celebrations as though she was a part of
their family.
But when Castle launched
into a giant speech about the meanings of Christmas and this tradition and that
historical holiday fact, she relented, promised to bring over a decoration or
two. And since she never bothered to set up her own tree, she supposed that her
favorite ornament could adorn the Castle Christmas tree instead.
“It’s from my mom,” she explained, lifting it
from the tissue paper and delicately placing it in the palm of her hand. “It
was the last thing she ever gave me.”
Castle stepped closer, rested a hand on her waist
from behind.
“She said it represented me; that I was free and
unique, just like a snowflake.” She traced the glittery outline reverently,
caught up in the memory. “That I maybe didn’t know where I was going at the
time but even when it felt like free-fall, there was always an eventual
destination.”
Kate smiled, lifted it tenderly and secured it on
an empty branch.
“It’s perfect,” Castle whispered.
She dropped her hand to cover his on her hip,
squeezed gently. “Thanks.”
“Free and unique,” he
murmurs with a thoughtful smile, remembering her words from yesterday. “I like
that analogy.”
Kate smiles, drops her
hand and gives him a gentle nudge. “Come on.”
They walk the rest of
the way in silence, the wordlessness persisting until after Castle discards his
robe and climbs back into bed, until after Kate snuggles up to him and allows
herself to be wrapped up in his embrace.
When he finally speaks,
his throat is tight with emotion, with gratitude. “Thank you.”
“For what?”
He presses a kiss to her
lips, smiles as he pulls away. “For being here. For sharing this Christmas with
me.”
Kate smiles back, an emotion
that he does not dare give name to shining brightly in her eyes. “Merry
Christmas, Castle.”
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