Take Me Out to the Ball Game

The one perfect thing about a day game is that when they finally get home, they're in for good. Dashiell slumps onto the couch completely worn out and falling apart after having held himself together for four hours, and Ellery is already asleep. Castle drops the bag on the floor and follows Dash to the couch, bouncing him on the cushions to make him giggle a little. Kate stays for a moment to be sure Dash can handle it, and then she heads for the stairs with Ella sacked out in her arms.

She takes each step carefully, slowly, abstractly listening to Castle's quiet conversation with their wild man. The upstairs hall is quiet and dark, and the warm, soft body against hers, the sleep-sweat clinging to her chest, makes Kate want to stay like this forever.

Or at least for a moment longer. Steal some time with her baby.

She hesitates at the open doorway to the girls' room, swaying with Ellery as she starts to stir, waiting for her to settle back into deeper sleep. The tiny shell of her ear is nearly hidden by the soft fall of hair that curls at the ends, much like Dashiell's did at this age, but so much darker. It's just begun to touch her neck, and Kate runs her fingers through the wispy ends as she sits down in the armchair by the bed.

Ella has never needed to be rocked, only held. She always peers up at the one holding her, eyes growing more and more sleepy, drooping, and then she drops right off the edge into slumber. So easy it almost feels like a gift.

Kate keeps her close, brushing her lips along the smooth forehead, her fingers still stroking through Ellery's hair. She smells like the cotton candy from the ballpark, and sweat in the sunshine, and the soap Kate uses on her in the bath. Her little fist is bunched in Kate's shirt and has been since she fell asleep on the subway back. Castle spent the ride corralling Dashiell, keeping him from jumping all over his mother and little sister, but now everything is at peace.

She should go. Dash is probably starving and Castle won't think of it in time to stop a major meltdown. She should get up and put her baby down for a nap, but she doesn't.

She kisses Ella's temple, the side of her cheek, breathes in the stillness and the quiet and the heavy little body trusting her.

She dwells there, realizing she needs it.

Castle loops his arm around Dash and hauls him up, his spindly arms and legs sprawling as he giggles, a little hysterical with exhaustion.

"Hey, since Mom's taking her time, let's get a snack. Want some cereal?"

Dash bounces back to the couch and squirms down, moving clumsily as he does, knocking into the coffee table and then the edge of the armchair, ricocheting towards the kitchen.

"Oof, buddy. You okay?"

"Can I pick?"

"Cereal? Sure." He leans over and scoops the kid up, heads for the pantry door to open it for Dash's inspection. They must see it at the same time because Dash lunges for the Cocoa Pebbles right when Castle does.

"Yes! That!"

"Haha, great minds, son." He pulls out the Pebbles and carries the box to the counter, deposits Dash on top as he gets out bowls. Dashiell is already poking his fingers inside the plastic liner, digging out a handful of chocolate cereal.

"I love Cocoa Pebbles, Daddy."

"Me too. I bought them on the sly, so shhhh."

He glances back towards the staircase but Kate is nowhere in sight. Maybe she and Ellery are having snuggle fest up there; Kate does that sometimes and he'd be jealous but that means he gets to eat Cocoa Pebbles with his kid.

"Hey, look what happens when we add milk," he says, dragging the gallon out of the fridge. "Whoa, stay there, buddy. I'll show you."

Dash stops trying to jump off the counter, drops back on his haunches as Castle first dumps cereal into both bowls. He tops Dashiell's off pretty high, imagining all the fun of digging in, even as Dash's eyes grow wide.

"Daddy. All that cereal."

"I know. Stick with me, kiddo."

"I stick."

He grins and untwists the top from the organic milk Kate likes to buy, pours it over the cereal.

"What's it doing, Daddy?"

"Watch. By the time we finish our cereal, we'll have chocolate milk. It's magic."

Dashiell's mouth drops open. "Chocolate milk?"

"Yup. The power of Cocoa Pebbles. Here. Let me put you in a chair."

"I can get a chair," Dashiell says, crawling across the counter now and heading for the gap between the kitchen work top and the island like he's going to jump it.

Castle comes up and wraps an arm around his torso, heaves him across the space rather than trying to scold him for it; they're both too tired for that. Dashiell giggles and holds his arms out for a landing, plants hard on the kitchen island before scrambling over to the bar and down into his chair. He gets situated and his face peers up at Castle over the granite, dark eyes and brown hair, cheeks pink from the sun, and that pressed-lip, pleased smile.

For a surreal moment, Dashiell is both Kate and her beaming glances and also Castle and his whole-face smiles, and the blend of both of them in his son's patient wait for his Cocoa Pebbles makes Castle ache.

Dash's fingers drum against the bar. "Daddy."

"Right," he says gruffly, clearing his throat. "Yes, cereal. Coming right up."

Dashiell opens his palms for his bowl, his eyes wide and receiving, delighted, while Castle drops a spoon at his place and gets his own cereal as well.

They sit side by side at the bar and dig in, Castle grinning when Dash crows over finding his magic chocolate milk.

"Have you been making up the rules?" Kate asks, dumping her converse off the side of the couch and pushing her sweaty feet into his lap. She nudged his hands and Castle grimaces but takes them, his thumb digging hard into her arch. "Ah-ah. Oh, nice. Right there."

"Sexy," he smirks at her, but they're both sacked out on the couch with Dashiell hopefully close to asleep under the coffee table, one of his favorite shows on repeat play. "What do you mean, making up the rules?"

"About baseball," she clarifies, hiding a yawn behind her hand. When she got downstairs, both boys had mischievous grins on their faces and smelled like sugary cereal. She'd be upset if she weren't so grateful the kid has been fed and seems to be settled for the night.

"Oh. Yeah. He asks questions. I like to have answers. Why? Did he repeat something I said?"

"You know he did, Castle," she laughs, digging her heel into his thigh for it. "He told me that every year they pull in the outfield wall because people come to games to see home runs. And so in twenty years, the park will be tiny."

"It could be true," he defends. "I think he was telling me that Jeter had more home runs this year and why, Daddy? So I told him the they shrink the yard."

"You're terrible," she laughs again, leaning her cheek against the couch to watch him.

"Yeah, I like it better when you come to games. You get to answer all the hard questions."

She hums and shakes her head at him, pretty pleased herself that she got to see the game today. "If you don't know, tell him you don't know. Less damage to undo."

"Naw, he'll figure it out eventually, and it's always fun to hear my wild theories repeated back to me, coming out of that little mouth. He's so serious about it, Kate."

She rolls her eyes and scoots down in the couch, taking up more room and tilting back against the arm, letting her body relax into it. "Baseball is serious, Castle. Don't be infecting my kid with your wild theories."

He chuckles and grinds his knuckle into her foot, making her groan. "Baseball is fun, Kate, not serious. We have fun when we go, don't we?"

"Loads," she mutters, but she pops her eyes open when his hands go still. He's studying her and she gives him a softer smile, strokes her foot against his thigh. "Yes. And today was perfect."

He grins back at her, a little bit like relief, a lot like love. "Oh. Yeah, I might have told Dashiell a story today about what a perfect game was - since everyone was talking about it being a no-hitter."

"Castle," she grunts, wrinkling her nose at him. "Today? When did you even have time for that?"

"He's quick. I'm quick. We got a thing, Dash and me."

"You're incorrigible. What did you tell him?"

"I said a perfect game was when all your favorite players were on the field and you had everybody you loved sitting in the stands with you, and then your team wins."

Her smile breaks across her face and she melts against the cushions. "Yeah?"

"Yeah. And Dash said it wasn't yet a perfect game."

Kate snorts. "Jeter, right?"

"Nope. Actually, he said he needed Gram and Papa and Allie. And then it would be perfect."

She presses her hand to her cheek and draws her feet out of his lap so she can crawl up next to him, curling in at his side, their bodies flush as his arms come around her. "That sounds pretty perfect," she murmurs back.

"Yeah, I thought so too."