Writer In Training

The loft is way too quiet.

Because three years old boys are never silent for this long. Especially not Castle's son.

She sets down the plastic plate she had been washing to turn away from the sink and towards the empty living room.

The TV is off. There goes the one thing that occasionally keeps her little boy occupied.

With a sigh, she runs her hand over her stomach.

Really? Her son has to be out of sight and silent on the one day of her maternity leave Castle had meetings?

The baby kicking her in the ribs isn't encouraging, but she slowly walks out of the kitchen and heads for the stairs, fingers curling around the banister.

"Jared? Jared, baby, you playing upstairs?" she calls.

There's no answer, not so much as the pitter-patter of little feet or a squeal of acknowledgement. For a moment, she debates going up and checking, but her feet are swollen and her back aches and she's been avoiding making that trip as much as possible.

Might as well clear all of downstairs before heading up.

Running her hand over her belly again, she heads to check in the living room. He has a few toys in there. He might be playing.

She doubts it, though.

"Jared?"

She leans over the back of the couch to check the space on the rug. Sure enough, a few of his plastic trucks are sitting there, but her little guy isn't.

She's about to head back to the stairs when she decides to check the office, even though Jared rarely goes in there unless Castle is writing.

Which he isn't. He's in meetings. Leaving her and Little Miss to wrangle a three-year-old who's usually allowed to do whatever he wants.

Maybe she should talk to Castle about instilling stricter rules for during the day.

"Jared?"

Her fingers curl around one of the bookshelves as she peeks inside, glancing around the room briefly to find everything in its place.

Except…

Oh.

There he is.

Her little boy, with ruffled brown hair and his lime green pajamas, is in here, playing with one of the many things littering his daddy's office.

Castle bought it back when she was pregnant the first time, deciding he should have evidence of the earlier stages of his craft in their home. It's been sitting where it is now, on the shelves behind his desk, ever since.

It seems to have caught Jared's interest, though, because as she steps into the room, she can see how he got to it. He's sitting on the clear tupperware container they usually use as his toy box, along with one of the decorative pillows from their bedroom.

A makeshift chair just tall enough for him to reach the typewriter sitting in front of him.

He's hitting the keys at random, one at a time with the tips of his index fingers, giggling at the clinking sounds and the movement of metal. Typing something nobody could read, nobody will ever be able to even attempt to read, thanks to the lack of paper.

And it melts her heart, brings her back to moments in her pregnancy when Castle would joke about their child being a literary prodigee, and when he tried to teach Jared the alphabet way too early on and…

Castle would love this. He should see this.

Carefully, quietly, she steps out of the office and waddles back to the kitchen to grab her phone, going as quickly as her pregnant belly will allow.

When she returns to the office, Jared is exactly where she left him.

She snaps the picture and sends it to Castle, along with the message: Look who found a new toy.

She wishes she could see his face when he sees it, the pride and awe and love that never fades when it comes to their little boy. She wishes he were here to see it in person.

His answer comes almost instantly. Oh my God, Kate! We have a writer in training!

She smiles, texting him back. Maybe.

Her phone vibrate again, another text bubbles popping up on the screen. No. Definitely. We gotta train them early, it reads, and she can practically see his grin. Don't worry. Maybe Little Miss will be a cop prodigee.

She looks back up at Jared, at his wide hazel eyes and the awe in his smile and, really, she thinks she likes the little writing prodigee thing after all.

Because right now, her little boy looks just like his daddy, and she loves them both a little more for it.

Then her phone is vibrating again, and she glances down to see another message from Castle.

Do you think he's too young for a WRITER vest?

So, this little piece of fluff was written for CastleThemeDay and inspired by my nephew who absolutely loves playing with the typewriter we have at my house. It is adorable.