Kate wriggles her fingers and applies the ice directly to his back, setting the cloth bag against his skin and waiting for the oncoming hiss. Castle clenches beneath her, hands fisting in the pillow under his head, his voice a breathy moan of ouch and oo that makes her smile and trail the tips of her cold fingers over the swelling that has nothing to do with his back injury. The extra padding probably helped a little with the landing, but, in truth, this area of his anatomy knows her hands well. Perhaps not when they've been rooting around the freezer though, if his yelp is anything to go by.

"Wounded." Castle reminds her, and his earlier recounting of the incident tells her there is probably more dents in his pride than his body. Though there is a hint of amusement in his tone now and when he turns his head so he can face her, rather than lay flat with his mouth mushed into the bed, there is a spark of delight in his eyes. Tilting her head she pouts and soothes her fingers instead, soft strokes up away from his ass, gentle touches to the mottled marble pattern appearing on his lower back and thighs. That musta been quite the landing.

"I know," Beckett hums in response, a few seconds later than it would have been if not for her caresses. She begins assessing the damage, kinda grateful he made her swear on several things, badge, future marriage bed and body parts included, that she never tell his daughter about this. This weirdly placed and oddly sustained injury. That's a level of awkward she's not sure even she could deal with.

"Grope me later?" Castle asks, tugging her from her path of introspection and grinning when she smiles immediately.

"Count on it," her fingers trail low and she laughs when he shivers. She teases the waistband of his boxers with her short nails before settling back against the headboard and allowing her still cold fingers to draw patterns in the purple, blue and green of Castle's bruised skin.

"I forgot how much fun it was," he confesses quietly at her side and her eyes dart to his only to find them off and away somewhere as he thinks about his day. "All that imagination and sprouting potential."

She watches him smile to himself, flipping through the scrapbook in his mind, toying with a day now dotted with sticky fingerprints and shenanigans. Wet pants and so -

"Magical."

He might just be. She smiles to herself, allowing that sentimental side of her to flood in and fill her insides with warmth and love. He dressed up in fairy wings and a tiara, probably would have gone whole hog with a tutu too if hadn't curtailed his inner princess.

"I forgot how tiring too."

"Mm." She doesn't offer more as she slides down in the bed with him, wanting to see where he's going with this. Wondering if his next words will leave her laughing or breathless with anticipation.

"Babies are easier," he decides as Kate comes to rest next to him, nose to nose on their shared pillow.

"Mmm, screaming, crying, midnight feeds," she rolls her eyes, "easy-peasy."

"Less effort to make them like me," Castle grins, ignoring her, "they think I'm hilarious from birth," he preens, "and cool."

"They have no bench mark." Kate smiles, eyes closing at his side as he shifts closer, her fingers darting out to keep the ice pressed to his skin as he moves.

"Captive audience too."

"Til they learn to walk."

"And talk."

"And answer back." She laughs, trailing her fingers the length of his spine, settling over the spot his "Jerk Face" sign was stuck. She drums her fingers there for emphasis, watching Castle's eyes narrow before he smiles up at her.

"You're good with kids," he states, sounding proud.

"What?"

"You're good with them, the older ones, the ones with fight and spirit. The more difficult ones," the longer he speaks the more convinced he sounds, "I know you think babies are -" he pulls a face that makes her want to laugh and yet, equally, defend herself from his assessment.

"I don't hate babies, Castle."

"No, I know that." His hand comes up from beneath the pillows, fingers flirting out to touch her face. They curl beneath her chin and she coils around him, knees brushing his thigh, palm still soft against his back. "It's true though," his voice rumbles quietly, sincerity in his eyes, "I saw it today, I've seen it before. You watch, observe, find their level. You make them feel at ease, Kate." His thumb strokes her chin, follows the curve of her jaw, to her ear, "You're good with kids." Her eyes soften and she knows he sees it when he smiles, "Big kids too."

"Had a lot of practice with the big ones," she smiles, teeth and tease meeting his lips when she closes the distance and kisses him.

They're closer now, sharing breath when he asks, "Ever thought about it?"

Her eyes find his, even though they never really separated, focusing in on the warm swathe of blue and promise, "About?"

"Skipping the baby stage?"

Oh - that's what he's ... Oh.

"I don't -" she swallows, "I haven't really -" she stalls out, sighs and tries again. "I wonder sometimes, how it would work."

"How- ?"

"You and me and a -"

"Baby."

"Yeah," she sighs, nestles closer then leans back again to watch him as she speaks, "my job and yours even, Castle. We're not exactly nine to five kinda people."

He huffs a laugh and nods, giving her courage she didn't quite know she was lacking, "I wonder -" she searches his eyes.

"Go on."

"I wonder sometimes if it would be fair on a - our -"

"Baby."

"Yeah," she strokes his face, hears the ice pack hit the floor when he rolls the distance between them, "that's not to say that I don't want to have - with you ..." she stalls out again and groans, dropping her head to his chest. Castle curls onto his back taking her with him, one hand closing over her fingers where they rest above his heart, the other stroking the length of her short hair, toying with the ends of the strands.

"You're great with kids." He reaffirms after a few seconds of drawn out, familiar and comfortable, silence.

"And you're great with babies," she smiles, heat rushing through her at the memories, not saying yes to the options discussed, not saying no either.

He runs his thumb over her ring and sighs deeply, his quiet voice telling her what matters and what really, honestly doesn't, "Any kinda family with you, Kate."

Castle takes the words right out of her mouth, and he can see it written all over her face, hands slipping to touch at her waist.

"Gotta marry me first," she challenges, one day and soon stamped in the width of her too innocent eyes, and an ease between them that they're slowly finding their way back to. It feels good. Better than good.

She smiles and he flips them, makes her gasp, drapes himself up and over her body, challenges her right back with the hot press of his lips at her neck, "Then set the date, Beckett."

Kate groans and he steals the word from her lips before she can speak it, both knowing soon isn't quite soon enough.