"In a child's eyes, a mother is a goddess. She can be glorious or terrible, benevolent or filled with wrath, but she commands love either way. I am convinced that this is the greatest power in the universe."

The Hundred Thousand Kingdoms, N.K Jemisin

For Katie, who asked

For Ellie, who needs it

And for Berkie, who knows why

"I still can't believe they were siblings." Castle huffs out, Kate's hand safely ensconced in his own. Fragile fingers, delicate and beautiful and brittle in a way he finds utterly fascinating. It's a harsh February, and the ring acts as a lodestone to the bite of cold in the air, making him hiss every time he takes her hand.

Flirting at the edge of his field of vision, he catches her rolling her eyes at him. The slope of her nose, a shard of her cheekbone, the vivid half-slash of her mouth all in coalescence to leave him thoroughly breathless. Such a striking profile, and now every time it reminds him of turning to his side in bed and watching her face go slack with sleep.

"Castle, not everyone on the subway is embroiled in a passionate love affair."

Rick presses the arc of his smile to Kate's cheek, nibbling gently at the gossamer skin as he ascends towards her ear. Nudging the thick curl of her hair aside, he takes a moment to let the winter-rich musk of her settle in his lungs, peppermint and ginger and nutmeg.

"No. Just us."

The elevator doors slide open and Kate's elbow finds his ribcage, carving inches of space between them that opens like a chasm, his whole body teetering on the precipice as if at any moment he could crash back into her. Nothing for it but to lean in again and dust his mouth at the milky plateau behind her ear, his tongue darting out to taste even as she steps away from him.

Turning back, she raises an eyebrow at him and curls her fingers into his jacket pocket, leading him after her. "Alright, Castle. Just so long as you don't try to force incest upon any innocent commuters."

"Now that's just disgusting."

Rick fakes a shudder, his whole body convulsing with it, and he watches the slow leech of ink into Kate's eyes, a smooth and perfect black like the inside of midnight. Mm, okay.

So the similarities between his trembling just now and the way his whole body was wrecked with waves of seismic activity over and over last night is not lost on her. Kate's hair, Kate's skin, Kate's mouth like tectonic plates, shifting against him and scattering devastation in their wake.

She gives him that pressed-mouth smile, the one where she tries to pretend she's not stupidly in love with him. It's high up there on his litany of frequently occurring Kate smiles. Uhuh, stifle it all you like, Kate Beckett. He knows she adores him.

Over her shoulder, Castle catches Esposito making like he's about to throw up, eyes narrowed at the two of them. He grins at the detective, rounds the desk to clap his hand at Javier's shoulder.

"Enjoy your weekend off, Espo?"

He shakes himself free of Castle's grip and scowls, shoving his chair backwards so violently it almost knocks Rick right off of his feet. Which would perhaps be funny, were he not hyperaware of Kate's eyes on him from her desk.

She catches him looking and rolls them at him, busying herself with wakening her computer monitor. And that's fine, that's okay. He had her undivided attention all weekend.

Espo stands up as if to level the playing field between them (ha, Castle's still taller) and folds his arms, settling back against the edge of his desk. "Clearly I didn't enjoy it as much as you did."

Rick opens his mouth, a lewd suggestion about how Kate most definitely enjoyed her weekend ready to spill out, but then the elevator doors are sliding open again and Kevin Ryan is stepping into the bullpen.

His eyes are downcast, tension rolling off of him in waves so all-consuming that they lick at Beckett's ankles, have her turning to watch him carve a path through the precinct. Striding right past Esposito's proffered hand, Ryan sinks down at his desk and stabs the button to wake up his computer.

Castle hurries back over to Beckett's desk and flops down into his chair, leaning in to conspire with her. She must underestimate just how near to her he's gotten, because when she turns to face him her nose almost brushes his. She hovers there a moment, the skin around her eyes and mouth creasing up with her smile, and then she shifts back.

"What's going on with Ryan?"

"He has a four month old daughter. A weekend off isn't really a break for him anymore." Kate says, casting a sympathetic glance over at Kevin. The detective has his head cradled in both hands, Esposito hovering awkwardly nearby and looking utterly terrified of his suddenly volatile partner.

Might be smart, actually.

"I'm gonna make him a coffee. You want one?"

Kate raises an eyebrow at him –right, stupid question – but then she drops her hand to cradle his wrist, circling her thumb over the clatter of his pulse. "Thanks."

"Not a problem." He beams at her, standing up from his chair in such a way that he can brush his knuckles to her cheek. The width of his body shields the moment of tenderness from Esposito, affording him enough time to offer her a smile.

She returns it, smoothing her thumb over the ring again. He never really expected her to wear it, if he's honest with himself. He figured she'd keep it safe in the same box as her mother's ring, would maybe wear it around her neck if he's lucky.

Only ever since she came back to the precinct, she's only taken it off for takedowns and interrogation. The latter he never understood, until one night with her head pillowed against his thigh and her body still limp with gratification she explained.

A suspect that sees her wearing a ring will look for weakness, as they would with any aspect of her personal life that became known to them. They would probe her for information about her fiancé, try to get a rise out of her.

In the quiet of two am, she had whispered that she's afraid it would work, she'd be compromised. So she won't risk it. And that's okay.

It's okay, because the rest of the time, she wears it. Ignores the jibes from her colleagues and how Gates can no longer claim plausible deniability. They both know that if Castle screws up, gets something wrong, she'll have him out of her precinct before he can even dial the mayor's number.

For now, he's safe. Watching Kate from the break room, the slatted blinds slicing her face into ribbons so he gets forehead, nose and chin but no eyes, no mouth. Even with only shards of her face visible to him, he sees the tenderness she can't battle back anymore.

The milk spills up out of the jug, scalding the curve between his thumb and forefinger. Castle hisses, shoving at the lever to stop it frothing as he yanks the pitcher away and grabs for a cloth. Shit, that's hot. Wow, okay. He should probably stop staring at his fiancée and pay attention to what he's doing if he wants to retain the use of his hands. Which – heh, yeah – he definitely needs his hands.

Mm, Kate.

No. Rick draws in a breath through his nose and raises his hand to his mouth, sucking at his skin to ease the blistering heat there. Whatever, it's fine, doesn't even hurt that much. He can take it. He pours the milk into Kate's cup, has to force himself not to shape a heart in the foam.

Her face is still overtaken with slack-jawed surprise every time he does do it, so he tries to keep it to a minimum. Doesn't want her to become numb to it and stop turning her face up into his kiss, her hands curling at his ears to hold him close.

Castle finishes up, a mug in each hand so he has to shove open the break room door with his hip, barely managing to avoid it slamming back in his face. Kate's laugh curls around him like a siren song, seductive and deadly as he stumbles his way to her desk.

"You burn yourself?" She nods to his hand and he glances down, the pain flaring up anew at the visual reminder. His skin looks stripped raw, so red that Kate's fingers seem creamy in comparison as she hovers over him. "Need me to wrap it?"

"Oh no, it's fine."

"You sure?"

He sets her coffee down at her desk and leans in; close enough to watch her breath stutter in her throat, the jump and dive of her jugular. "Not that the concern isn't touching, but I'm trying to be a man about it."

"Okay, whatever." Kate huffs, turning back to her computer and very pointedly not taking a sip of her delicious, scalding-hot-just-the-way-she-likes-it (he burned himself for her) coffee.

Castle rocks back on his heels, debating a moment, but the coffee in his hand grows ever cooler and the ways in which he wants to draw out Kate's smile are entirely not precinct appropriate. Shrugging, he turns to face Detective Ryan's desk.

Completely pathetic, but he has to take a moment to bolster his courage before he approaches. And honestly, when has that ever happened with Ryan? With Kate plenty, and with Esposito more times than he cares to recall, but Ryan is supposed to be the one who is always open to his crazy theories.

Kevin is the most easy going of the four of them. Or at least he was until he apparently had the worst weekend off in the history of mankind.

"Coffee?" Castle asks, already setting the mug down on the desk close enough that the steam curls under the crag of Kevin's jaw

"Thanks."

"So," Castle says, tries to be conversational rather than confrontational. He remembers all too well the first few months of his daughter's life. She was an easy baby, in retrospect, but he never could quite convince himself of that at three am with his baby girl screaming and writhing in his arms. "Rough weekend?"

"Yeah." Ryan murmurs, wrapping both hands around his mug and raising it to his face, his chin almost settling flush with the meniscus.

"The baby?"

Before Ryan can answer, Esposito is hustling over to them and shooting a glare - first at Ryan's mug and then at Beckett's - that could probably freeze the coffee in both. "So you're making coffee for everyone except me now, huh?"

"Javier," Rick claps his hand at Esposito's shoulder and shakes his head, biting back the grin that threatens to crack his face wide open. "You do not have a four month old baby. Nor are you going to be my wife. You get coffee when you've earned it."

Espo scowls but seems to have no retort, at least for now. Instead, he's calling out loud enough for the whole damn precinct to hear him. "Hey yo Beckett, I thought you were gonna tell your fiancé to stop calling you his wife. It's not official yet."

Kate's cheeks flame as her colleagues crane their necks, attention swinging wildly between her and Castle himself. Rick watches the work of her throat as she swallows, a twitch in her bicep the only indication of the work of her nails, hidden away underneath the desk and carving crescent moons into her palms. "Not my fault he's so whipped, Javier."

Espo turns to face Castle, something like crowing delight painting his face, and Rick shrugs his acquiescence. It isn't exactly untrue.

"So, Ryan. Colic?"

Kevin shakes his head, eyes cast down in something so close to shame it makes Castle shift his weight, the discomfort strangely thick in his throat. "No. No, Brooke's fine. It's, uh. . .Jenny's grandmother died."

"I'm sorry to hear that. Were they close?"

Ryan meets his eyes, the corner of his mouth lifting in an approximation of gratitude. For Castle's condolences, he supposes, since it's not as if he's actually done anything worthwhile to help.

"Yeah. Her whole family are close knit. She was the matriarch."

"This was the Vermont grandmother?" Castle says, remembers her from the wedding. An ancient woman, her whole body entrenched with lines that seemed to spill wisdom, everything she said veiled under layers of mystery and intrigue.

Mrs O'Malley had spent much of the reception swatting at Castle's arm and telling him not to leave such a beautiful girl hanging, her smile wide and full with more gum than tooth when he finally asked Kate to dance.

"Yes. We're heading up there early Thursday morning for the funeral. Should be back around midday Friday, if everything goes to plan."

"You taking Brooke with you?"

Ryan sighs, taking a sip of his coffee and letting his eyelids slam closed. It sits wrong with Castle to see him so downtrodden, heavy and sloshing in his stomach. "Four month old babies don't mix well with funerals, but we don't really have a choice. My parents and my sister are out of town, and all of Jenny's family are going to be at the funeral too."

"I could take her." It's out of his mouth before it even makes contact with his brain, bypassing any sort of filter, but as the words trip off of his tongue Castle realises he means it. He will absolutely take care of Ryan's daughter for a night, if it makes things easier for him.

Ryan lifts an eyebrow, huffing a soft laugh. "Shouldn't you ask Beckett first?

Right. Yeah.

Castle tries very hard not to jog over to Kate's desk, mostly fails if the look on her face is any indication. "Kate, Jenny's grandmother died. They have to head to Vermont for the funeral and there's no one to take Brooke for Thursday night. Is it okay with you if we look after her?"

"Uhh. . .yeah?" Beckett gapes at him, the information he let unspool at her feet still processing. "She'd stay at the loft?"

"Yeah. You wouldn't mind?"

She shrugs at him, her mouth pressed into a seam he wastes precious seconds thinking about breaching with his tongue. He beams, can't help but lean in and press a smacking kiss to her forehead.

He already called her his wife and then had it announced to the whole precinct this morning, there's nothing left to lose. "Great! Thanks, Kate."

"Mm-hmm." She offers to his retreating form; he can almost hear her shaking her head at him. Whatever, he's doing a good deed.

"S'fine with Beckett. We'd be happy to have her."

Ryan grins for the first time all morning, rising from his chair and clapping Castle on the back on his way past. "Thanks, man. I'll call Jenny."

"Not a problem."

Really, it's not. Brooke Ryan is probably the second most adorable baby he's ever seen in his life, and she's also scarily contented. He knows it won't be easy, but it's definitely an easier scenario than he could have been faced with.

Added to that the fact that Kate Beckett has basically no choice but to be a co-carer for the Ryans' daughter, and God does he love the elusive glimpses of Kate's maternal side he's sometimes privileged enough to witness, and this whole thing is going to be epic.

A small part of him, a part he mostly manages to crush through sheer brute force, yearns to prove to Kate that the two of them would make awesome parents together. That being a cop and being a mother are not mutually exclusive.

That it's already been proven that he makes awesome kids, and any child with even half of Beckett's DNA is bound to be some sort of sanctified being that merely deigns to mix with the rest of the mere mortal pre-schoolers.

He is fully prepared to use this as an opportunity to convince Kate Beckett into letting him get her pregnant.

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