782Like Yourself
Muffled curses spill from the bathroom.
Castle pauses his attempts to tuck the clean fitted sheet beneath the mattress, waiting for a moment to be sure he's not hearing things. Sure enough, there's another exasperated huff and quiet "Damnit," a moment later.
"Kate?" he calls, finagling the mattress a little higher and doing his best to shove the elastic far enough into the center that it won't slide up as soon as they get in bed later. "Everything okay?"
"Fine," she says, but it's anything but convincing, what with the hesitant pause and watery husk to her voice. "I'm fine, Castle."
He doesn't believe that for a moment, not with the way her voice wavers. But he knows his wife, knows how she processes everything, and he decides to give her the time to decide whether she wants to tell him what's bothering her or not. Barging into the bathroom before she wants him to will just cause her to clam up a little tighter.
"Rick? Can you bring me the pants I draped over the chair last night?" she calls a minute later.
He drops the flat sheet in a heap at the foot of the bed; he'll come back to that later. "On it. What's wrong with the clothes you took in with you?" he asks, rounding the corner to the bathroom to find her standing at the sink, glowering at herself in the mirror.
Her pants, the ones she'd taken in with her, sit low on her hips, unzipped.
It clicks.
"I can't get them closed," she explains miserably, meeting his gaze in the mirror. He can see her eyes are shiny, wet with tears – frustrated tears, no doubt. "Any of my pants, I can't get them to close."
She gestures to her midsection, to the slacks that no longer meet in the center thanks to the rounded swell of her belly.
"How am I supposed to go to work when I don't have a single damn pair of pants that fits anymore?"
There's a quip about staying home and playing hooky on the tip of his tongue, but he stops before it comes out. He values his life and needling his pregnant wife is a terrific way to lose said life. Instead, he just hands over the requested leggings, watching her peel the offending jeans down her legs and step into them instead.
"And now I get to go to work in the same clothes I wore to clean a toilet – that I vomited in, no less – yesterday. All because my damn clothes don't fit anymore. I just…" she sighs, running a hand through her hair. "How am I going to do this, Rick? Get bigger and bigger and go to work and have people take one look at me and decide I'm only still in my position because the department wanted to check a box? Eventually I'm going to be so big I won't even be able to sit at my damn desk."
"You look gorgeous, Kate."
She shoots him a baleful look. "You don't have to follow whatever dutiful husband playbook you think you do, Rick. I don't think I look bad right now; I just don't feel like myself."
He nods in understanding, holding out a hand to her. She exhales after a moment, taking his fingers and allowing him to pull her closer, into the circle of his arms, her belly pressed between them.
"What can I do?" he asks, swiping a hand along her spine. "To help you feel more like yourself?"
"I don't know," she sighs. It's entirely too mournful for his tastes, but he gets it, too; this pregnancy is turning both of their lives upside down, but it's also turning her body inside out. He's never going to have to worry about that. "Maybe just…treat me like you always have? I don't need to be glowing or ethereal or whatever other descriptions you can come up with. Just… treat me like you always have."
"Hitting on you constantly and reminding you of your hotness," he says easily, grinning into her hair when she laughs. "Check."
"Sure," Beckett agrees dryly, patting his chest. "And one other thing?"
"Anything," he promises, loosening his hold on her at her request, lowering his chin a bit to meet her eyes.
"Go buy me some new pants? Ones that don't have a spot of dried salsa on the knee."
He chuckles, dipping his head to steal a kiss from her mouth. He means for it to be a quick peck, an easy affirmation that they're on the same page, but Kate winds her arm around his neck and sinks her fingers into his hair, darting her tongue over his lip when he jolts forward.
"Thank you," she breathes against his mouth, resting her forehead against his. "For trying to make me feel better. Even when I'm crying in the bathroom about not having pants to wear."
"Thank you for suffering through the indignity of a lack of pants for our baby, Kate."
That earns him a smile and the melody of her quiet, delighted laughter.
prompt: Beckett is self conscious about her pregnant body so Castle takes her to a mirror and shows her how he loves her body now
As always, it's been forever since you prompted this, Anon, but I hope you're still out there and that you enjoy this!
Thank you all for reading. I hope you enjoyed this little ficlet.