Just a little pregnancy/baby fluff for your Thursday. Enjoy!

In this room

'I'm not a baby person, Castle.'

Castle flips to the next crisp page of the Pottery Barn catalogue as he stands with his elbows propped on the kitchen island, a half-chewed apple slice dangling from his lips. Despite any evidence he has noted to the contrary since his wife has gotten- and stayed- pregnant, Beckett's declaration from years before has lingered in his mind. So, from the moment that pesky line had finally turned, and stayed pink, getting darker each day until they had a rainbow of First Response Pregnancy Tests lined up on their vanity, he has assumed he alone will be the one wielding the scanner gun like a secret agent at Giggle and Pottery Barn Baby. And step one for any mission is always research.

"Hey."

Castle looks up from the glossy page in front of him to see his wife hovering just over the threshold to the loft, her lower lip clamped between her teeth, her hands clutching something behind her back.

"Hey," he parrots with a smile, making quick work of wiping apple pulp from his fingers on the life-worn towel below the sink before rounding the island. His legs move on autopilot, drawing him closer to her of their own volition. It is nice to know at least some things haven't changed in the near decade they've known each other. Katherine Beckett's gravitational pull on him is one of them.

"I got something," she continues, rocking back on bare heels, the four inch stilettos he can't believe she still wears at thirteen and a half weeks pregnant kicked in a pile by the door.

"Something?" He parrots again, his hands bracketing her rapidly thickening waist. Six days before he had awoken to the sight of Kate, bathed in morning light, staring at her profile in the gilded mirror standing in the corner of their bedroom. An 'I woke up like this' fell from her lips in awe when she pointed at the protruding bump of her belly.

"Yeah," Kate replies, crimson creeping up her neck to color the skin from her clavicles to the tips of her ears. "Something. For the baby."

The apples of his cheeks ache and the corners of his eyes crinkle as his growing smile threatens to crack his face wide open.

"You bought something for the baby?"

"Yeah." She pulls a little cream bag, doused in gold sparkles and sporting the swirling name of some chic Manhattan baby boutique, from behind her back. "I was walking to get lunch and I saw them through the window. They were having a sale so they weren't too expensive, but I saw them and I just had to get them for her."

"We don't know if it's a girl yet."

"It's a girl. I know it. The blood test results will just confirm it." Kate defends, a little too hard of an edge to her voice.

"Okay. Okay," Castle chuckles as his hands come up in surrender, making a mental note to fix her a snack before dinner. It is an argument they have had multiple times over the past weeks.

"Whatcha think?"

Castle blinks and finds himself staring down at the smallest, fluffiest pair of grey elephant baby booties he has ever seen. Tears prick at the corners of his eyes when he finally tears his gaze away, and lifts his eyes back to meet hers. "They're adorable."

"I know. And they're gender neutral. They had ones with little pink bows on the ears but I got these instead, just in case I'm wrong and it is a boy. Not that a boy can't wear pink. You pull off pink on a regular basis but still, I mean… You like them, right?"

"Kate, they're perfect." He leans in to dust a kiss to her temple and his lungs seize at the smile beaming back at him when he pulls away. Beautiful. Glowing. Not glowing. Kate has glared down anyone who has used that word. She's beautiful.

"And I was thinking," Kate continues, brushing past him, and he happily trails behind her as she places the bag and booties on the counter on her bee-line for the refrigerator. "I'll be fourteen weeks on Thursday, officially second trimester, and the Dr. Peterson seems to think I'm past all risk for, you know, so this weekend might be a good time to go looking for a crib."

"A crib?"

"Yeah, I saw a flier. Pottery Barn is having a sale." His, 'I'm a best selling author, we don't have to shop sales, Kate' is cut off by a quick narrowing of her eyes, and he quietly settles on a bar stool as she pulls a yogurt from the fridge. "And I was poking through their catalogue." She taps one finger on the book next to him. "There is a really cute light wood set that would go great with the organic-y cream and gold theme I've been contemplating."

"Catalogue? Contemplating?"

"Yeah," Kate's automatic confirmation comes as a mumble around the spoon in her mouth, before her eyes go wide and she pulls the utensil from her lips with a pop. "Oh, I'm sorry. We should choose this together. I just found it on your desk and started looking when the nausea woke me up the other night. I loved the look of this one nursery I saw." She pulls a folded page from the back pocket of her charcoal maternity pants, holding it out to him. "I tore this out as inspiration. What do you think? If you hate it we can do something else. I just thought it felt soothing, you know? And after everything, soothing seems right."

His eyes trace over the image of the linen curtains billowing in the breeze, a stuffed bear sitting in the corner of the natural wood crib. A rug with swirls of white, cream and gold adorns the wooden floor. It's exactly what he would have chosen. "I think it's perfect. You're perfect."

She rolls her eyes at the compliment, and drops a kiss to his lips as she plucks the booties from his hands and starts across the living space for their bedroom, her half-empty yogurt container and spoon temporarily abandoned on the counter.

"Castle?"

He turns to find her standing in the doorway to the office, one hand pressed to her belly, the other cradling the tiny slippers. The previous excitement in her expression melted into one of complete contentment. "Yeah?"

"I can't wait to meet her."

"Me either."