Take Me Out to the Ball Game

"My ball," she hears.

Kate draws her arms up into her chest and buries her head deeper into the pillow, but the little voice comes again, more insistent.

"Mommy. Baseball."

She lies there a moment longer, just a second, and then she opens her eyes to the happy face peering at her from the side of her bed. "Baby."

"I'm not the baby anymore," he says with a little beaming smile, and then Dashiell grips the mattress and the blankets and starts climbing up.

"Sorry, always gonna be my baby." Kate lifts up to grab the back of his shirt when he starts to slide, pulling him in with her, and he wriggles like a worm as he comes in close.

"My baby comes with me?"

"All of us are going to the game," she answers, closing her eyes again as Dash burrows into her side, pinching in his eagerness. "Ow, baby. Careful."

"I wanna see Jeter."

"He's injured," she repeats. "Remember? He's not playing."

"I wanna see Maddy's boy, Jay."

"Russell Martin." She gives in to the wakefulness, the awareness strung like a live wire in her son, and she shifts to her side to wrap her arms around him and snuggle.

He's not so great at snuggling though. Dashiell's toes dig into her thigh and he squirms up and tries to twist his fingers in her hair and he's got a whole baseball game going on in his head, apparently, because she can see his mouth move and hear little snippets of his announcer voice.

Goofy like his Dad. Who will wake up if Dash doesn't settle, and that will not make for a pleasant game. She lifts her head and checks the clock, groans when she sees the time.

"Dash, baby, it's four in the morning," she sighs.

"I just so happy."

She laughs softly and knocks her forehead into his, kissing him. "Okay, okay, well, I'm glad you're so happy. But Mommy and Daddy both need to sleep. So what are the options here, wild man?"

"I sleep here."

"No, you won't. You'll talk instead."

"I talk so good."

"You do," she hums, shaking her head and closing her eyes. Her body feels bruised she's so tired. A Saturday afternoon baseball game seemed ideal two weeks ago when Castle suggested it, even three days ago when she thought her case would be wrapped up by now.

It's not.

She ought to go in to work today.

She won't.

"Options, Dash," she reminds him.

"I not sleep at all, Mommy."

"I figured. What else can we do?"

"Hmm, you say."

"Well, baby," she sighs, snuggling him closer even as he twists and moves, little wild man that he is. "You can watch tv in the living room really quietly. I can make you a nest out there if you remember all the rules."

"I remember. Make it quiet. Don't wake Ellery. Umm. . ."

"Don't leave the couch."

"Yeah, that." He pops up, looking enthusiastic, half-curling smile in that face he's been making lately - the one that says he's all innocence and sweetness and Mommy, I'll love you forever. It's a Castle face if ever she's seen one.

"You want to do that? Maybe you'll fall asleep."

"Maybe I will," he agrees happily. So very awake. She sighs and pushes the hair back off his face, that flop of wavy brown that masks his eyes. Didn't he just get it cut?

"All right," she gives in. "Go upstairs and get what you need for your nest."

"Yay!" he cheers, then gives her those round and wide oops eyes as he claps both hands over his mouth. Behind her, Castle stirs and his breath snores in but he doesn't wake.

She gives Dashiell an arch of an eyebrow and he hunches his shoulders closer to her in apology.

"Go, quietly, my man."

He leans in and grips her sleep shirt with a hand, leans in and kisses her loudly on the cheek. "You make my nest."

"I will. Go get your stuff."

He slithers right out of her bed and she sighs and closes her eyes as he goes. She hopes she can fall back asleep too.

Kate cuddles with her son on the couch, their two bodies swaddled in blankets and pillows and the thick, furry throw rug from the armchair by the window. Dashiell doesn't want to sleep, really, just watch his cartoons, but Kate lies on her back and drifts in and out, startling awake whenever her son laughs or changes position on top of her.

His weight is warm on her stomach where he's perched, his head pushed back into the cushions, and his fingers rub up and down her thigh where she's got her knees pulled up. Strange feeling, his fingers flat on her skin, and then she realizes it's because she didn't have time to shave yesterday.

Gross. "Baby," she mutters, snagging his hand. He turns slowly and looks at her, wriggling out of her grip and then twisting to embrace her drawn up legs, his cheek to her knee.

"Mommy, how much time?"

"The game's at 1:05. Is that what you mean?"

"One-oh-five. How much is that?"

"Mm, from now to then? About eight hours."

"Oh. What about Jeter?"

"He's on the DL."

"He won't maybe sit on the bench?"

"No, baby, he's not riding the bench. Disabled list means he's got to do a rehab assignment in Triple-A before he even makes it back to the Yankees."

"That's. . .hmm. Oh, I 'member. RailRiders."

Kate's eyes pop open in surprise and she glances at her son. Dashiell is still snuggled up to her raised knees, his warm little body kinda sweaty too, and she jostles one leg to get his attention.

"Scranton RailRiders. Yeah. You remember that?"

"I know all kinds of baseball things."

She grins. "You certainly do. Have you and Papa been listening to the radio?"

Dashiell wriggles with that childish, Castle happiness that always eases her heart to witness. "Me and Papa listen to the games. And Papa show me in the paper. They have scores. In boxes."

"The boxscore. Uh-huh." She nudges him with her knee again. "Thought you were gonna be quiet."

"I can be quiet." He lays his cheek back against her leg and his fingers dig into the tight space between her calf and her thigh, seeking the pressure. "I can be sleepy, I promise."

"It's okay, sweetheart," she murmurs. "You don't have to be sleepy. Just quiet so Mommy can sleep."

"But Jeter won't be there?"

"Dash."

"DL," he sighs, answering his own question.

Kate sighs too and closes her eyes again, finds herself half-listening to the cartoon about super hero pets. Dashiell is now practically straddling her raised legs, his body heavy as he relaxes, hypnotized by the television once more. She wills him to sleep, just for a few hours, please, baby. Just sleep.

She hopes the absence of Jeter won't be a thing today. With Dashiell's sleeplessness, his excitement over the game could tip him right over the edge into crankiness and then a full-fledged tantrum. And she knows how upset he'll be afterwards, if he falls apart at his beloved Yankee Stadium.

"Where are all my people?"

Kate jerks a startled gaze to find Castle of all people standing in the threshold to the living room, rubbing his eyes. Dashiell perks up and holds his arms out for his father.

"Daddy! We all here!"

Kate oofs as Dashiell's little bottom bounces into her solar plexus as he launches himself at Castle.

"Sorry, Mommy. I mean, not all. My baby still sleepin'."

Castle has managed to catch the wild man, and he moves now to sit beside her in the nest of blankets on the couch. She pulls her legs up and sits to curl into his shoulder instead. Castle leans back and loosens his arms and Dashiell squirms around to get a good position.

"Why are you up?" Kate murmurs against his sleeve, taking a deep breath of his sleep-warm scent. Laundry and skin oil and something of them combined.

"I don't know. Bed was cold? I should be asleep. We all should be asleep."

"At least the baby knows what she's doing," Kate sighs.

Castle chuckles and shifts in the couch, sinking down a little more so that she caves into him. It's comfy like this, and warmer, and Dashiell seems to like being squeezed between his parents because he drops his head back against Rick's chest and his eyes droop.

Kate hooks her toes in a blanket and draws it up, catches it with her fingers and covers them even as Castle works his legs under her. Now they're piled up, stretched full out, and Kate shifts to keep from crushing Dash, the three of them together.

"I'm in a burrito," Dash mumbles.

Castle chuckles, that wide and sly grin on his face that wrinkles his eyes, and Kate smooths her hand down Dashiell's cotton pajama shirt. "You certainly are," she whispers. "Might eat you up."

Dash giggles, a kind of helplessly exhausted sound. "No eat me."

"So tasty, my little Dash burrito."

He giggles and she wraps her hand around his, brings his fingers up to her mouth and pretends to munch on them. Dash lets out a gasping laugh and curls in towards her, his arms flung around her neck, burying his face against her.

"Mommy, Mommy," he laughs.

"I got ya," she hums back, embracing him tightly, just like he likes it.

Castle's arms come up around them both, squeezing so hard that the breath leaves her, and his voice in her ear is amused and so tender.

"And I got you both."