Chapter Text
The text just said Help.
It was from Ryan. Castle had responded immediately. As immediately as possible under the circumstances. The circumstances were a lot of glögg and his mother not being very good at math. Only parts of the double batch had actually been doubled. The dangerous parts.
But he'd responded just as soon as he'd found his phone under a splat of dough. Cookie guns for everyone had seemed like such a good idea at the time. He hadn't counted on the glögg sticking Beckett's cop instincts in the on position. Now everything was sticky and not in the good way.
He meant to say something along the lines of "Bat signal received. How may we assist you, citizen?" But the letters kept moving around and he ended up with Wht?
Castle would have figured that someone with Ryan's detecting skills could figure out the A, but the phone rang a second later.
"What?" Ryan sounded annoyed, even though he was the one sending cryptic texts on Christmas Eve.
"Yes, what. Exactly." Castle set the phone firmly on the countertop and put Ryan on speaker.
"Castle, I'm desperate. Do you or don't you know where Beckett is?" Ryan did sound desperate. That made Castle sad. No one should be desperate on Christmas Eve. They should be warm and happy and full of glögg and surrounded by their three favorite women.
Beckett slapped his arm. Hard. Ow. Three favorite, maybe, but order of preference was definitely up for grabs. "What was that for?"
"Ryan, what do you need?" Beckett elbowed her way closer to the phone.
"Beckett? Thank God. Why didn't you answer your phone?"
"Ask Castle . . . No, wait. Don't. He's a liar. And a phone ruiner. And drunk." She punctuated each accusation with a poke to the biceps. Her phone, as it happened was sitting in a baggie full of rice after a glögg incident. Arborio, to be exact, because it was all he had and it probably wouldn't work and he'd owe her a new phone.
"You're drunk, too." He jabbed a finger at her, but she caught it. Castle yelped preemptively.
"We're all drunk," Martha called out.
"I'm not," Alexis interjected. She sounded a little exasperated. Castle was suddenly worried she wasn't having a good time. She was such a good kid. She'd stayed home for him, and he wanted her to have a good time.
"Everyone except Alexis is drunk," Martha amended. "It's glorious. I would invite you to join us, Detective, but shouldn't you be home getting that darling little wife of yours with child?"
The room went silent. Everyone other than Martha found a different spot on the ceiling or floor or wall suddenly and absolutely fascinating.
"Uh, Beckett?" Ryan's voice cracked. "Do you still have that emergency key to my place?"
Kate's nose wrinkled in concern. It was adorable. Castle wanted to kiss it, but a vague sense of self preservation and a faint throbbing in his upper arm held him back.
"Back at my place. Kevin, is everything ok?" Her words were not slurred. At all.
Castle found that highly suspicious. Because either she was like those people in the movies who instantly sobered up when shit got real—and he had stayed drunk through a lot of pretty real shit, so he doubted it—or she had been pretending to be drunker than she was for her own nefarious purposes. Castle was very interested in her nefarious purposes, and he wanted Ryan and his mother and his kid to go away. Right now.
"Uh, not exactly," Ryan said. They could hear him covering the phone and saying something to someone else before he added, "we're at the ER."
"You and Jenny?" Castle was feeling a little soberer himself all of a sudden. Shit. Stupid real shit.
"Yeah. Nothing serious." There was an indistinct wail that Castle thought of as being off stage. "Uh, nothing too serious. Probably. But we need a pretty big favor."
"Ok?" There was guilt mixing in with Kate's concern now. Castle didn't like it. It was every bit as adorable, but guilt and nefariousness didn't go together. Now that he suspected that nefariousness was an option, he was reluctant to let it go.
"Well, we left in kind of a hurry and I left the insurance cards behind . . ."
"So you need us to pick them up at your place and bring them to the ER?" Castle cut in. He liked this plan. Helping out friends in distress. Friends with a cozy apartment that almost certainly had no daughters or mothers in it. "No problem!"
"Yes, problem," Kate snapped. That was less adorable. Hotter, but less adorable. "None of us is in shape to drive here, Ryan. Doesn't Espo have a key, too?"
"We don't want to interrupt Javier's Christmas plans, do we, Kate?" Castle gave her a wink. "We'll get a cab. Or a car."
"No." Kate glared at him.
Castle's face fell. That was definitely a 2-ply no.
She went on. "Ryan canceled their man date and Lanie shot him down when he tried to make a booty call."
"It wasn't a man date!" Ryan hissed.
"Oooooh, he tried for a sad Christmas booty call?" Castle said at the same time.
"Dad . . . " Alexis tried to cut in.
"Richard, darling, what is wrong with your left eye?" Martha fluttered over to him.
Beckett just rolled her eyes and snatched the phone from the counter. She switched it off speaker and moved into the living room, away from the growing cacophony.
"Kevin, I'm sorry, but we'll never get a cab on Christmas Eve. I think Espo's your best bet."
Ryan was silent. Only the background noise of the busy emergency room signaled that the call hadn't drooped.
"Ryan? You there?"
"I . . . can't ask Javier to do this, Beckett. Not after . . . "
Kate closed her eyes and pinched the bridge of her nose. She wasn't drunk. Just pleasantly buzzed. Or she had been until two seconds ago when she proceeded directly to hangover without passing go or collecting $200. "Oh, God, no . . ."
Something in her tone caught Castle's attention. He shushed Alexis and his mother and moved to wrap an arm around Kate. She tipped her forehead against his shoulder, and there it was again, that annoying, growing sense of sobriety. The shit just kept getting realer. It was beginning to piss him off.
"I'm sorry, Beckett." Ryan was sorry. Sorry dripped from every syllable. "I'm sorry. It's . . . ferret related."
Alexis drove. This was . . . sub-ideal on a number of levels.
First, because, yes, Castle knew she could drive, at least as far as the state of New York was concerned (although evidence suggested their standards were not particularly high), but knowing was not the same as being crammed in the backseat of his own Mercedes clinging to the Oh Shit-bar every time they took a corner.
Second, because Kate had called shotgun—which, what the hell? Whose car was this anyway?
Third, because his mother was crammed into the backseat with him, singing Christmas carols at the top her lungs. He couldn't explain why his mother had insisted on coming along. No one could explain why his mother had insisted on coming along, least of all his mother. Unless a version of "Santa Baby" with at least 40% improvised lyrics counted as an explanation.
Fourth, because with this mother and daughter along, it was extremely unlikely that he could talk Kate into a quickie in Ryan's apartment. Even a really quick quickie.
Fifth, because even if he could talk Kate into a really quick quickie, thus salvaging something of their first Christmas together, the situation was "ferret related." It just had to be ferrets.
There was only one thing to look forward to: Getting the real story out of Ryan once they knew everyone was going to be ok. He had been vague on the phone to say the least. After some pretty intense questioning by Beckett—and file that under hot, rather than cute—Ryan had only coughed up two facts: The ferret was . . . at large (but hopefully still in the apartment), and they needed to recover it in the hopes of saving both Ryan and Jenny from a series of rabies injections and possible eviction if their decidedly non-ferret-friendly landlord found the furry evil first.
"Why did Jenny even bring the thing home . . . Alexis, this is America. We drive on the right!" Castle cringed and squeezed his eyes shut.
"Except when there's a car double parked, in which case, we safely pass it, on the left," Kate snapped. She then added to Alexis in a calm tone, "You're doing fine. Ignore him."
"Always do," Alexis muttered.
"I heard that! And you!" Castle jabbed a finger between the front seats. "You didn't answer my question!"
Kate's head swiveled to glare at him. Castle holstered his jabbing finger.
"Where else would the ferret be, Castle?"
"Isn't it a classroom ferret? Isn't she corrupting our children with it?" He demanded.
"It's Christmas break. You thought she'd leave it at school for two weeks?"
"Guess we know who wasn't 'responsible' enough for a pet." Alexis met her father's eyes in the rearview mirror.
"Hey, Santa hasn't come yet," Castle retorted sullenly. "Something both of you should keep in mind."
"I'm well aware that Santa hasn't come yet, Castle." Kate whirled around and jabbed her finger between the seats. Brazenly and unflinchingly jabbed her finger at him. Whose car was this anyway? "Maybe you should keep that in mind."
It was out of her mouth before she could think better of it. Martha broke off in mid-improvised lyric and let loose a peal of laughter. Alexis stared dead ahead. Castle gaped. Kate Beckett had a dirty mind. Who knew? Well, he did, actually. Oh, yes, he did. Castle began to revisit the possibility of a quickie. A really quick quickie.
"No, Castle." Kate twisted back to face front and folded her arms over her chest. "Just no."
They pulled up in front of Ryan's apartment before Castle could come up with a rejoinder, which sucked. Because that rejoinder was going to be awesome.
At least he had the seatbelt sorted out this time. Back at her place, she'd pulled the rug right out from under one of his "really quick quickie" scenarios. She'd been out of the car and through the secured door to her lobby like lightning, leaving him still struggling with the latch.
Not this time, Beckett. The seatbelt retracted with a satisfying zzzzppp. Castle flung the door open and surged out of the back seat. He was around the curb side of the car and standing at Kate's elbow before she could even duck her head back through the open door to tell them all to stay put.
"Castle, get back in the car. I'll take care of this." She pulled Ryan's key from her pocket.
"No way, Beckett. This is ferret related. You're not going in without back up." Castle grabbed her arm and swayed toward her.
That move with the seatbelt and the surging and now the snowy, uneven street surface had apparently drained his sobriety reservoirs. Kate seemed to be having no such problems. She was all moving quickly and staying upright and the usual beautiful, graceful, ninja cop shit.
At least she was until his hand on her elbow stopped her forward progress with a jerk. Castle's shin connected with a fire hydrant at the same moment. Through the pain, he wondered who had put that there and when and why was it hiding in the snow like a jerk.
Kate spun on her heel, which proved to be a mistake. A big, big mistake. The toe of her boot skidded over an ice patch and one foot went out from under her. Her arms pinwheeled to compensate.
Castle quickly let go of her elbow and lurched forward. By some miracle, one hand landed perfectly at the small of her back. The other snagged her waist around the front. He braced against the fire hydrant and managed to keep them both upright by pulling her to him. It would have been a perfect Hollywood clinch. It would have been romantic. It would have been if it weren't for the single key arcing gracefully through the air.
Their heads swiveled, perfectly synchronized, to watch in horror as it fell to the ground and skipped once, twice, three times with a cheerful little chime.
Kate scrambled to free herself from Castle's arms, but it was too late. The key glinted in the streetlight, its little bit of red ribbon dancing in the wind, as it slipped through the bars of the sewer grate.