December 30 / New Year's Eve / New Year's Day - It's the sound of a new start

He didn't meant for it to work out like this, but after they spent the whole weekend with the movers, Kate had to do everything Monday night after work while he had to clear up some last minute stuff regarding the deed to the loft. Still, he'd been at the new house the previous week supervising the contractor and the construction workers, making everything just right for tomorrow night.

The security door went in first, and a coat of sealant was added to the weathered blue monstrosity that he still won't get rid of. It's their front door - always will be. He had guys for that job, of course. Same guys took the duplex doors off their hinges and then knocked out the entry wall - thank goodness it wasn't load-bearing. The alarm company rewired it so that the panel is hidden just inside the kitchen, and he likes that a lot more.

Now when they come in the front door, when they come home, the place is opened up to the kitchen, and through there to the living room. He likes being able to see all the way back, the whole space in one breath.

He thought maybe Kate wanted to keep the duplex look because she's the kind of person who comes home from a day at work and wants to escape, but she suggested taking the doors off herself, and then the architecture of the place lent itself to knocking down the wall.

The two old-fashioned keys on their red velvet ribbon hang on a hook just inside the front door. To the right is the staircase leading up, but so far every night, Kate's come straight through and found him in the kitchen, dropping her stuff on the table to wrap her arms around his waist or nudge his shoulder at the stove.

He likes having the kitchen be the heart of their home. The central place where everything radiates in spokes from. He's got ideas for more renovation, breaking down the wall in the kitchen to connect to the stairs. Maybe even take down the wall upstairs that divides the three bedrooms on one side and the two-

Well, he and Kate will talk about that later. For now, he's got to help her get ready for tomorrow night.

Alexis plans on splitting her time between the loft and the new house when she's out on break, but she left a ton of boxes in the room she picked out. They had a talk about it and she's excited; she was, apparently, the swing vote for this house and had gone around with Kate to look at five others.

He's still stunned that Kate bought a house. One she couldn't even afford without his help. She took a huge, blind step of faith - in him, in them - and he's still kind of dumbstruck about it. Still struggling to adjust to this new structure for their relationship.

The past week has moved so fast, and he nearly tells the cab driver the wrong address when he gets in, checks himself just in time.

"208 West 11th, please."

His new home.

Kate hears the crunch of his key in the lock, and then the knob twists and the door opens, letting in a gust of cold air. Castle comes inside, but she stays sitting at the breakfast nook, observing him until he notices her.

"Hey," he grins, a grocery bag in his hand. She wonders if he bought enough for both of them, whatever it is, or if he rightly assumed she's already had dinner. He dumps the bag on the floor and comes for her. "First night."

She gets to her feet, putting aside the book she'd been relaxing with, and lifts her chin to meet his soft mouth with her own, their kiss gentle and a little hesitant. He brings a hand up to her neck, two fingers sliding into her hair where he fiddles with it, watching her.

"Hey," she murmurs back, giving him a slow smile. "First night. At least it will be quiet before tomorrow."

He steps back, sliding his hand down her arm, squeezing her elbow before he lets go, heads for his groceries. "Did you see the parking situation out there?"

"Crazy," she answers, following him into the kitchen. "That white Accord with California plates is new-"

"Two," he says, holding up two fingers and an eyebrow. "The white and then a navy Camaro, of all things, both from California. The black one has been taking my favorite spot."

She shakes her head. "White one has been taking mine." She's used her unmarked to ferry stuff back and forth from her place, or to be here with the contractors, in between work and everything else.

"The nerve of them. Why are they here anyway? Go back to California," he says, his tone low and complaining, but his eyes dancing.

"East coast bias," she warns, leaning a hip against the kitchen counter. Castle is pulling tubs of ice cream out of his bag - and only ice cream. She laughs and reaches across his body to tug the pint of Cherry Garcia from him. "Is this your dinner?"

"Already ate," he winces, his eyes shooting to hers. "I - I should've asked-"

"I already ate," she says back, shaking her head. "I didn't ask you either. Sorry."

"Works," he shrugs. He seems unwilling to condemn them for it.

"Hey, also?" she says, straightening up. "Have you heard that annoying car alarm somewhere on this block? It's a voice."

"What?" he laughs, shoving ice cream in the freezer. He glances inside and then back to her. "A voice on a car alarm? I haven't heard it."

"It's loud. Heard it twice tonight already. It's gonna keep me up. I can't believe you haven't - never mind. What do you care? You sleep like the dead."

"What can I say? It's a gift."

"It's annoying," she growls, prying open the pint of Cherry Garcia ice cream.

"Don't hate me just because you're an insomniac, Beckett." He hands her a spoon - one of the new, shiny ones, perfectly balanced, easier to manipulate than his old ones, or hers for that matter - and then he takes the container away from her, digs in.

They bought the silverware together. Stupid, really stupid, but she likes it. She needed it, actually, because somehow all his little projects and ideas and his spending money have kept her calm, rational about all of this. The way he's jumped right in means he really does like it. He's making it home.

"No bowl?" she sighs.

He shrugs.

"Straight out of the carton?" she asks. Maybe they should get bowls together? No, that would be really ridiculous. They spent money for the party, and there's the mortgage payment coming up - holy crap, she has a mortgage with Richard Castle.

"What is this?" he mutters, sliding ice cream off the spoon with his lips, talking around his mouthful. "You have rules about ice cream eating?"

"I have rules about everything, Castle," she says darkly, and then takes the pint away from him and shoves her spoon into it.

He cheers when she eats a bite straight from the carton, giving her that fake, crowd-applause with two hands cupped over his mouth, like he's her standing ovation.

Kate rolls her eyes. "I made tea."

"Oh?" he says, sounding entirely too grateful for just tea, but fine. Keep his expectations low.

"In the blue plastic pitcher."

"Oh jeez, Beckett. Blue plastic?" He snorts as he opens the fridge to see it. "And in this nice, fancy refrigerator. Where'd you get that thing? Wal-mart?"

Actually. "Shut up. We can't all be millionaires."

He waggles an eyebrow at her. "But at least you get to live with one. Higher standards here. Blue plastic. I have a ceramic jug that is quite nice, plus a glass pitcher with-"

"I think the blue plastic works just fine. Plus, I know how much to put in there. With your fancy, richy-rich containers-"

"Snarky."

"Work for you?" she says, switching gears.

"Does it for me, yeah," he gutters, his voice tripping over itself to get out. He comes closer, dropping his spoon in the sink, taking the ice cream out of her hands. "Let's go to bed."

"Subtle."

"When have I ever?" he gasps, as if he's affronted.

She just grins and tucks her fingers into his belt, tugs him closer. "Put your ice cream away, Castle. Then come christen the bed with me."

"Sorry you had to unpack stuff alone," he murmurs, his mouth already dragging at hers.

"You can make it up to me," she breathes out.

"I've never had New Year's Eve off before," she says quietly. "It feels wrong. It's all hands on deck at Times Square."

"Except Ryan," he points out. Esposito couldn't make it, but he got Ryan. And Beckett of course.

She narrows her eyes at him, considering.

He laughs into her soft silence and brushes his fingers over her bare hip. He's already dressed, and he shouldn't tease, but he likes being here to see this. Beckett getting ready in their bedroom, the way she moves from spot to spot - dresser, bathroom, closet - just to do one more thing. It's not organized at all, the way she gets dressed, but it's soothing.

She's pushing her other earring into her ear, head tilted, the hoops dangling and yellow in the lamplight. Their bedroom is a mess of boxes and stuff shoved into corners; neither of them had the time to finish upstairs. But downstairs is ready.

She nudges on him, still in just her underwear, and goes to the closet for her dress. A new one, black with deep hints of brilliant gold, that hugs her hips and dips low at her back, wow, so low, and she turns to him.

"Zip me up?"

They did this once. In a hotel room in LA when she came to the premiere of Nikki Heat with him. And now they're here, in their own quiet bedroom in Greenwich Village with the smooth and soft expanse of her skin under his fingers once more.

He brushes aside the wave of her tumbling hair and kisses the top of her spine while his thumb guides the zipper up.

"Ready?" he murmurs.

"Shoes. And then, yeah. Ready."

Not what he meant.

Kate stiffens when the doorbell rings, but she beats him to the door, her palms damp and her heart thudding. She pulls it open to find Martha and Alexis on the other side, laughs at his daughter's inquisitive face and the wine she's holding up.

"Hey, now. You're not supposed to have that," Castle chides over her shoulder, reaching past Kate to tug his family inside. "And you both have keys. What're you ringing the doorbell for?"

Martha snorts and pushes on his shoulder as they move inside. "We will be knocking before we come inside for a good while yet. You two should have fair warning."

Kate groans even as his mother laughs, Alexis raising an eyebrow and glancing around the entryway.

"Wow, it looks awesome in here. Dad. You knocked out the wall?"

"Yeah, you like?"

"It's so open now. Warm."

Kate grins and takes her by the elbow. "Come see what your dad did to the rest of it."

She's just pulled her into the kitchen when the doorbell rings again, and Castle, still holding the wine brought from his own loft, turns back to the entry. Alexis shrugs Kate off and pushes her towards Castle. "Go answer your front door."

Kate bites her bottom lip and her stomach is churning again, but she comes to stand beside Castle as he reaches for the knob. She can sense his family right behind her and she glances once more around the house - the open space, the bright lights, the combination of their two personalities into one.

"Ready?" he says softly.

She turns back to him and nods; he opens the door to their guests.

"This place is amazing," Lanie whistles, putting her foot on the stairs and arching an eyebrow. "Mind if I go up?"

"It's a wreck upstairs," Kate warns but follows her friend.

It's dark in the hallway but even with a drink in her hand, Lanie seems confident in her steps. She stops at the first bedroom and Kate joins her, glancing inside.

"We haven't done anything up here."

Lanie traces her fingers over a painting that hung in Kate's living room. "You guys fight over what goes up, what goes where?"

"Yeah," Kate shrugs. "A lot. I'll get that downstairs sooner or later."

Lanie laughs. "It's depressing as hell, Kate Beckett. I already told you that."

"I like it."

"Where you putting it? In the playroom?"

Kate groans and leans back against the wall of the cluttered extra bedroom. "Who told you that?"

Lanie moves past her to the hall and down to the next room, peeking in. "About the playroom?"

"Lanie," she mutters, scraping her hand through her hair as she follows.

"Everyone knows. I think one of you was describing the place and called it that-"

"One of us?" Kate narrows her eyes.

"Maybe it was Castle," Lanie hedges, winking at her. "You guys having kids?"

"Lanie!"

"Just asking. I mean a playroom suggests-"

"It's a sunroom."

"Sure have plenty of empty bedrooms up here." Lanie gestures to the dark rooms around them. "Where's the master?"

Kate pushes past her and towards the front of the house, hears Lanie turn to come after her. She nudges open their bedroom door, her heart catching strangely at the unmade bed, the prints still leaning against the wall, the boxes stacked crookedly in the corners.

"Oh, this is nice. This is gorgeous, Kate."

She smiles softly and turns to her friend. "Yeah?"

"Yeah. You did a good job. Oh, look, that one's yours - the other one his?"

Lanie points to the huge lion print in their bedroom, still waiting to be hung, the vast African veldt behind it like they're a matching set. But they're not - one from his place, one from hers. They hung the elephant that matched the lion downstairs in the living room.

Kate nods and watches Lanie approach the far wall, her fingers running over the frame. She turns and smiles at Kate.

"You okay?" Lanie asks, gesturing towards the bedroom and then the hallway as if she means everything else as well.

"I'm good," Kate answers honestly. "I'm really good."

"Then let's go down to your party," Lanie says, hooking her arm through Kate's and leading her towards the stairs.

Castle relaxes a little when Kate comes back down with Lanie at her side; the two are smiling and Lanie laughs at something Kate murmurs to her. Alexis interrupts his vision by throwing her arms around him and kissing his cheek.

"This is fun, Dad. Thanks."

"No alcohol," he warns her again. Mostly joking. At midnight she'll have a sip of his probably, maybe even a glass, and what she does behind his back. . .

"Shut up," she says affectionately. "And thanks for letting me invite some friends."

"Of course. Your house too, pumpkin."

She gives him a look, shrugs a little, and releases him from her embrace. "Yeah."

"It is," he insists, catching her fingers as she goes to move away. "You know it is."

Alexis tilts her head and squeezes his hand, letting go. "I know. I helped pick it out. And Kate told me - a hundred times. I know."

And then she disappears back into the party.

Ryan and Jenny catch his attention and he moves for them, taking the serving tray with him - pigs in a blanket. Kate's idea. The party is a blend of their styles, just like their home, and it seems to work. The guys who made it from the 12th are all drinking the beer and eating the finger foods that Kate picked out. His groups of friends are munching his canapes, or ginger beef skewers, or oh yum, those pear and blue cheese tarts. But she was right.

It works better this way. Their way - together.

He moves past the mayor, a wincing in his chest as Weldon just shakes his head and laughs.

"Never seen pigs in a blanket at one of your parties before, Richard," he says.

"Never had Kate help me host," he says back with a shrug. "Excuse me. I see hungry police officers."

"Of course. Happy New Year."

"Same to you," he says by rote, but he realizes he truly means it. He can only hope that the man finds the next year to be more in his favor.

He stops at Jenny and Ryan, holds up the tray. "First dibs?"

"Oh, I love these," Ryan says. "Thanks, man. Want me to put them out on the table?"

"Thanks, Kev." He watches the detective barrel through the guests with the platter, Castle's hands suddenly empty, and then he feels Kate at his back, her arm sliding through his.

"Hey, there," she murmurs. "How's it going?"

He glances around at their full home, the family and friends from their intimate Christmas dinner but all the rest here now too - the mayor, his writers group, the Gotham City poker crew, her father's hunting buddies - a cascade of people in their new house.

"I think it's perfect," he says with relish and turns to meet her look.

Kate smiles at him, that deep and wide smile that makes her the most beautiful woman in the room. In the city. In-

She kisses him softly, pulls back with a smirk in her eyes. "It's pretty good for us."

He loses track of Kate with about forty-five minutes to go before midnight, but he's still got time. They've got time. He gets pulled into a discussion about the origins of habeas corpus with the judge and a lawyer who apparently knows Jim, and then Jim is drawn in as well, and they're all talking about Abraham Lincoln suspending it during the Civil War, so of course Rick brings up Vampire Hunter.

Then it's a kind of free for all, and Jim is actually arguing that fantastical movies (although Castle was talking about the book, really) about historical figures have merit because it makes people want to know the real story, but the judge is unconvinced. Thoroughly. And loudly. Unconvinced.

And then it's 11:45 and Rick glances around and he still doesn't see Kate.

His heart does a funny little flip to think that, really, it doesn't even matter if they kiss at midnight because she's here. Stays here. With him. He gets to shut the door on all their guests with Kate Beckett at his side and then they'll go up the stairs to their bedroom and-

well. Do whatever. Nothing or everything or anything, doesn't matter. Because she stays. He stays. Neither of them go home because they are already home.

He's grinning like an idiot when he sees her coming down the stairs and into the living room with Jenny and Ryan behind her. Another tour? The upstairs is a wreck, and he was the one who said to ignore it and concentrate on making the downstairs as complete and finished as possible. Oops. Hope she's okay with showing people around.

He disentangles himself from the Vampire Hunter conversation and heads for Kate, gets waylaid by Alexis who kisses him on the cheek in a pre-new year celebration, and then when he lifts his head again, Kate's disappeared once more.

And now it's 11:50 and he has no idea where she is.

Doesn't matter, right? He'll get Kate later.

So Rick goes to a knot of publishing people - Gina and some of her cohorts - and makes small talk with them, makes sure they're having a good time. For some reason, Vampire Hunter has made the rounds and Gina brings up Pride and Prejudice and Zombies and how book sales of the original have gone up.

And then the television gets turned on in the living room and the whole party is turning towards it to watch Times Square, people jostling to see or to get with their friends, and a ripple of laughter goes through them but they all start the countdown.

10, 9, 8-

It doesn't matter. He stays. Kate stays-

5, 4, 3-

Cool fingers around his elbow turn him around and he's facing Kate's laughing, gold-flecked eyes.

"Thought you could escape?" she murmurs and his lips are forming one as hers meet his mouth in a dark kiss, wild and full of promise. Home.

Kate finds him on the couch at nearly three, his mouth open as he sleeps, head bent awkwardly against the arm of the sofa. Can't be comfortable. He was supposed to be gathering up trash, but that didn't get done, did it?

She's changed into pajamas and she's found his as well, left them upstairs for him once she gets him up and moving. Party clean-up can happen later.

She can't believe they're here. In this house. Their house. They had a fun New Year's Eve party with their friends and acquaintances, a crazy blend of both of their styles. They don't match on paper, they shouldn't fit, but they do. She bought them a house. What was she thinking when she saw the playroom, and the five bedrooms upstairs, and the way his face lit up when she admitted to it?

She wasn't thinking immediate and now and our family home, not really. She was thinking - oh what was she thinking?

It comes back to her as she watches him; she goes to her knees beside the couch and leans her cheek to the armrest, a breath away from his forehead. She was thinking This man has so much love.

A man like Rick Castle needs people, family, little faces looking to him for the answers - even if they're answers he's made up. And when those kids are grown up, then he gets grandkids to spoil all over again, the little hand in his as he walks slowly through the park.

And she wants in on that.

That's all. Really. That was the extent of her thinking on the subject. She wants in.

Still.

Maybe she'll just wait for Alexis to settle down, right?

Kate closes the distance between them and kisses his forehead, then she trails down his nose to his mouth, touches her tongue to the curled corner where his smile hides. When she pulls back to look, his eyes are opening slowly.

"Time for bed," she whispers. "We'll clean up tomorrow."

"Did you say yes?" he says suddenly, widening his eyes at her and pushing up from the couch. "Was that a dream?"

She pauses, confused, a smile slipping out anyway. "A dream, I guess. Yes to what?"

Castle sits up suddenly, scraping a hand down his face. "I don't have a ring. You need a ring. I should've-"

Oh, whoa. Wait a second. She puts a staying hand on his knee even as he keeps rambling.

"I don't need a ring, big guy. Ease up. Just a dream."

He flicks her a startled, aroused look - really? big guy does it? - but the interest drops off in favor of his evident disbelief, distress.

"You do need a ring. Something-"

She rises from her crouch on the floor, takes the hand he keeps scrubbing over his face. "No, Castle. It was a dream. We're fine. Now come-"

"Fine isn't good enough."

"Castle," she says sharply, wrapping her fingers around his wrist for his attention. "Wake up."

He blinks at her, tugs back as she tries to pull him up, and she shakes her head. If she's being honest, the point of the house to forestall a conversation like this. She hoped. Now maybe she sees how it only has encouraged that conversation.

"Maybe you do want a ring?" Castle says hesitantly, and she honestly can't figure out if that's chagrin or hope on his face.

"Castle. I don't need a ring, because we're not close to that. You had a dream. Now come to bed."

He does at least get up, start shuffling towards the stairs. He still looks half asleep and filled with dreams - of his proposal apparently - and she nudges him towards the bottom step.

"No ring. This doesn't make sense-"

"Castle, it was a dream."

"But if it wasn't a dream?"

"But it was."

"Would you?"

"No," she mutters, rolling her eyes even as she sees the playroom. Sunroom. Too late. They will always call it a playroom, won't they? Even if-

"No? Why-"

"Castle," she sighs and nudges his hip to get him going faster. "You can't propose to me in the middle of the night after you had a dream. Not cool. Or romantic. I'm exhausted and I want to go to bed, and the sheets are clean, and I'm in my pajamas, and everyone is finally gone, so get moving."

"But some time later. Right?"

"Castle."

"That's yes enough for me."

She can't help the smile that threatens, but she can roll her eyes to mask it, push him down the hall to the master bedroom. He goes easily enough after that, knocks into a stack of boxes in the corner, then flops down on his side in bed. He wriggles around to shed his jacket and then pats the spot next to him, rubs his hand up and down in sultry invitation.

With his hair spiky and his eyes already slipping shut, his dress pants and dress shirt on, it's pretty funny.

She gets in beside him, flicks at his tie, and can't help remembering the look on his face when he saw the advent calendar filled with presents back at the beginning of all of this. And while it's only been a month, they've come so far.

And now here they are.

His hand between them on the bed, Castle comes a little closer, wriggling down beside her. She reaches across them and curls her hand at his collar, loosens his tie and pulls it through, drops it over the side of the bed. She puts her fingers back at his neck, liking the warmth and the first growth of stubble. He should get his pajamas on. But he doesn't seem to notice or care.

"Are you okay with just. . .letting it be this for now?" she murmurs. Moving in together seemed like a big enough step, but this is. . .

more.

He wants more. Of course he does. He's Castle.

He blinks slowly in the darkness of their bedroom and behind him she can see the outlines of the two framed prints leaning against the far wall. A lion in black and white - from his place - and a wide empty sea of golden savannah grass - from her own place. Forlorn when alone, but a natural fit together side by side. Lanie remarked on it when she was up here, and Kate has to admit, somehow they go together. It works.

"Castle. Can we just let it be this?"

"Okay," he breathes out. "I won't ask. For now. Makes my job easier."

She gives him a smile and draws closer. "You sure?"

"You bought me a house. I think that says enough." He grins in the darkness of their room, and she can't quite get used to the shape of him against the shape of this new place; it startles her every time. "You're pretty much mine, Beckett. No one can dispute that."

She narrows her eyes at him and curls her fingers at his ear. "You can't possibly think you need to stake your claim over me, do you?"

"No, no," he agrees hastily, his eyes wide, too comical. "But I can be a possessive person, and I've been known to mark my territory-"

"If you urinate on me, I will divorce you."

He laughs hard at that, bringing a hand up to his eyes as if to dispel that image; she cracks her own smile, lets it loose.

"Got it," he laughs. "No peeing. No proposal. You've made yourself perfectly clear. Even if you did just say you'd divorce me."

She stares at him. She did say divorce. She meant kick him out. . .

"Uh-huh," he murmurs, snuggling closer and drawing his arms around her. She goes, just so she can hide her face in his shoulder, smell that worn in, all-day smell of him, and she can feel him still laughing at her.

"Shut up," she growls.

"Fair warning? It'll be sooner rather than later, Beckett."

Happy New Year!