Confetti Conversations
A season 4 AUish Fic
Originally posted to my tumblr as part of Fluffy Friday, inspired by the image in the cover photo.
"Have you ever thought about confetti?"
He practically chokes on his laughter at the question. Oh, he likes this version of Beckett. He likes all versions of Beckett, of course, but especially this version.
"What do you mean? What about confetti?"
His partner shrugs, giving the pile of black and gold scraps in her hands a little toss, snickering when the paper bounces. "How'd confetti as a celebratory tradition even start? Who decided this would make a good thing to rain down on you during special occasions? Who has the unfortunate job of cutting all this?"
This time he does laugh, scooting closer to her, his shoulder bumping hers. "You're a little drunk, Beckett."
"I'm not!" she insists, lifting her eyes from the multicolored paper. "M'not. I'm just thinking."
She's a little drunk. He is, too, for that matter. But it's not too much. They're not too far gone, he knows. It's been fun relaxing with her, dancing with her, getting to know her better, not Detective Beckett, but Kate. Just Kate. Of course, now they've reached the point where they're sitting on the floor together after the party, which probably means it's time to go home.
"You're thinking about confetti."
"Yeah," she breathes. "I'd never paid much attention to it before, but now I have all these questions."
Rick grins, contemplating an answer for her. "I think a machine does the last one. I doubt some poor human has to stand around with a super sharp pair of scissors and cut it by hand."
"Oh. I was picturing a pair of huge cartoon scissors, but that makes more sense." She giggles once at the mental image before her brow furrows. "Giant paper cutter."
"Probably," he agrees, watching her head dip. Oh, he needs to get her in a cab before she falls asleep here on the floor with him. "I can google the rest if you want. Tell you on the way home?"
Kate hums, dropping her head onto his shoulder. He likes her like this, smiling and touchy, snuggly; he could get used to it. "My place or yours?"
Rick feigns a scandalized gasp. "Detective Beckett, what exactly are you insinuating?"
His partner lifts her head, her lips turned up, eyes sparkling with mischief, and his breath catches at how gorgeous she is. Mussed hair, lipstick long worn away, sitting on a floor that definitely needs to be swept, and she's still spectacular.
She shifts closer, her lips parting, but the kiss he's expecting – hoping, no, begging the universe to be granted – doesn't come. Instead tiny bits of paper rain down on their heads as she shakes with the force of her giggles.
"Guess you're just going to have to find out, Castle," she whispers, patting his cheek before twisting to her feet. Her fingers wiggle in invitation and he slips his hands into her grasp, allows her to haul him to his feet, to step closer until this time their noses brush and their lips bump in promise. "Take me home."