Howdy.(: I have some kind of sinus thing going on, so my tolerance for all of this Castle angst I've been writing that has yet to be finished is really…no. So, after I heard J-LO's new song, "Dance Again", I wanted to a) cha-cha and b) write a carefree Castle oneshot that solves everything. That is a perfect world. Let's get to it.

P.S. I used info given in the 5th sneak peek for "The Limey" about Castle's new blond.

Jesus, Jacinda. First class flight attendants were first class for a reason. Under the filmy LED lights rotating from the corners of the room and the turning disco ball shedding green, blue, and red light over the crowd thick with ravers, Castle could barely move, currently being used as a stripper pole by his preferred attendant on his flight back from Vegas. She held him around the shoulders, bopping her weight from hip to hip with the quick tempo of the techno music encircling his head with dizzying beats and remixes. At least, she'd started with her arms draped over his shoulders. Her hands were on his hips, gripping his against hers, hands running through her hair, his hair, down his chest, over her thigh…she worked with the music and worked with him, paralyzing him, filled with ecstasy, provoked by need, and feelings of longing. He had been reluctant of the idea of a rave at first, given that they weren't really his scene, but the woman in charge of the blond hair tickling his chin had insisted that it was the ultimate release after working a job with a high level of tension and stress involved. She'd assured him without words, her lips salty and sweet and plump against his. It was all the assurance he'd needed.

Lanie looked good. Her hair fluttered around her bright lips, askew with tousled curls. She donned a short purple spandex dress pinched along the seams, hugging her curves tightly, exposing her long collarbone with a wide neck that encircled her shoulders. She, on the other hand, who had been tentative on this big club/rave mix party, eventually gave in to a sparkly red ensemble, sleeveless, that was loose enough to move in, but tight in all the right places. She'd opted for straightened hair – she just wasn't up to curls, lately. They were supposed to meet the boys in fifteen minutes, and heels still had not been chosen.

"What about these?" Lanie held up a pair of Nike boot heels, yellow and black.

Kate looked away from applying a smoky garnish to her eyelids, inspecting the shoes. "Nah. But I like the yellow." She glanced at the clock near the vanity – thirteen minutes.

"These." Lanie pulled a yellow open-toed heel from her closet, her voice sure.

"Yes." She agreed, watching her bestie slip into her heels behind her as she applied a cherry gloss to her lips in front of the mirror. "Do you have anything silver?" Kate was eager to leave, her energy towards the party growing as it neared closer and closer.

"Try these. They're my sister's, they should fit." Lanie stretched to hand Kate a pair of silver pumps. She slipped them on effortlessly, grinning at her friend.

"Alright Cinderella, let's go! Javi's always on my back about being late, like men don't do it too. Gotta even the score, you know?" She handed Kate her purse, and shooed her out of the apartment. Slipping dangly earrings into her ears, Kate waited patiently for Lanie to lock up.

"Ready?"

"Oh girl, this piece of woman has been ready since Monday."

Butterflies were tickling her intestines, as she took his hand and carefully stepped down the last of the stone stairs. She was one giant ball of nervous and excitement, hopeful that the outcome of this evening would be a good one. From time to time she had been feeling the faint reminder that maybe this was wrong, but she did her best to bury it. Whatever. Castle had moved on, and so could she.

"Kate? Everything okay?" He offered her his arm, smile wide. Charming. And friends.

"Tom?" She moved towards him, accepting his guide, "Thanks again, for doing this last minute." His eyes were strong, nodding to her. They made their way after Lanie and Esposito, who were already dancing with their hands and mouths. She was reminded, again, that maybe this was wrong. Instead of dancing around that fact, she bit her bottom lip, took Demming's other hand, and drew him along behind her, racing towards the cluster of bopping, moving people. Maybe she couldn't outrun it for long, but she was sure as hell going to try.

The music was fast and hot, black lights pumping and strobes glittering sporadically over the mob of a crowd at the height of each remix. The fog was thick and rolling, chilling her ankles against the heat she felt in her chest as she danced alongside her stunning friend and coworker. Facing Demming, having familiar things surround her, they helped. And so she danced.

Lanie had separated Esposito's mouth from her neck to help ease Kate into the atmosphere, just because she was aware of her friend, and her apprehension toward this particular excursion. She knew that once Kate caught the vibe of the place, she needn't worry, but for now, in the beginning, this is what friends did for friends whose hearts were hurting. Perhaps calling Tom Demming wasn't the best solution to Kate's dateless predicament three hours prior to go time, but she had been clear about no expectations, and friend-like interaction during their phone conversation. She had not, however, informed Beckett of those conditions made. If those two still had a spark, Kate should tackle it like she had Tom while he was still a suspect for murder, a couple of years ago. Personally, Lanie thought this could help her detach, emotionally, from Castle. Oh, that was another condition Lanie had emphasized to Demming – do not under any circumstances, talk about Castle. It was a Castle-free Zone – she reminded Esposito, too. So far, this little set-up was going well. Lanie could feel her man tug her closer to him, and after a last glance at Kate, let her man have her the way he wanted. It was time for Kate Beckett to swim on her own.

Although she wasn't sure it was appropriate, or that she was ready, Kate took Lanie's lead after Espo pulled her away from her. She closed the comfortable space between her and Demming, grooving with the music in close quarters with him. When she managed to look up, he was alarmingly close, and she faltered in a step, Tom catching her arm.

"You don't have to do this." He was patient, and kind. It was like he saw right through her, having no expectations.

"What if…I do have to?" She had to speak close to his ear so that he could hear her above the music and the screams and whoops coming from the crowd. They seemed to dance better this way, talking.

"You could be doing the chicken dance for all I care." He laughed against her ear, causing her to hum lightly. He smelled nice. He had a pretty left ear.

"Ooh, but in that case my arms would be all tied up…and I wouldn't be able to do this." She snuck her arms around his neck, touching her body to his, holding him close. "Tonight is about distractions, Tom. Distract me." The more she flirted, the easier it became – the dancing, her fingers trailing through his hair, down the back of his head and neck. After a moment of contemplation he responded to her, dancing her around in a somewhat carefree, and equally sexy way. He twirled her out whenever she came too close, spinning her back in and holding on tight. He was a great spirit – she had forgotten, she realized, as he dipped her comically, sending thrills throughout her and laughter that mingled with his. This was good; this was something she could hold on to physically and mentally. When his hands met her hips, she knew she was in business.

He was convinced that fate not only existed, but that it held emotional grudges against those who dared to counter its mighty train. One minute he was happily being seduced by a gorgeous woman with a supermodel body, separated from his by only the thin fabric of her revealing dark silver dress (and by thin fabric, he meant very thin), and the next, he worried he had developed a mental disease – was that the back of Esposito's head, sucking passionately the neck of a smokin' hot – oh my God that's Lanie – oh my God.

Two kinds of fire were now slithering throughout his stomach: one, the kind that told him he was so getting laid that night, and the other kind, one that suggested he needed to move away from his current line of vision. If his mother had taught him anything about running around backstage of a show while she performed, it was that if one young Ricky Castle could see the audience through the curtain, the audience could see him right back. And with that, Castle danced around his partn- around Jacinda, whispering promises into her ear as he backpedaled into the thicker crowd, in the center of the underground space. He was sweaty from the compressed heat of many moving bodies and attracted to the woman leaning into him long and slowly, muscles tortured from the sudden exercise, but he resisted the fatigue, meaning with every thrust of his hips against her body to cement the distance between his heart, and guttural instinct.

Lanie was nowhere to be seen, when she finally thought to look. Somehow, she and Demming had moved into the major crowd, kind of gross and orgy-central, kind of hot. She was swallowing the music and lust of the air, letting it pump her blood instead of her heart, and she now wore glow bracelets around both wrists, and her neck. Demming had two glow sticks sticking out of his pants pockets, thanks to her, his jacket thrown aside and lost among the buzzing air of rave. He'd managed to roll his sleeves up while she occupied other parts of his body, the heat of the place building the longer and harder the music jammed.

He was mesmerized by the transformation of the woman in front of him, grinding against his body with careful skill, fingers light, setting fire against his skin wherever they touched. She spun around to face him with hunger blazing inside her highlighted eyes, tall in her heels, mouth so perfectly near his own. She rolled her body into his, sending a shiver down his spine, the heat within him unbearable. She was waiting for him to make a move, he knew, but…Lanie's guidelines…and Kate was putting the pressure on him, one hand supporting herself against his chest, the other on the side of his cheek, nuzzling her head so…she was giving permission, right?

Kate's knees nearly buckled, her rational self lost amid the laser lights flicking colour onto even those most covered in shadow. She wasn't thinking, she was living, and she was acting. He felt so good, his arms secure and caring around her, not pushing, not pulling away. She was ready for this, to envelope the night, this one night, and return to her regular antics on Monday. The sting of the shots they'd both flung back only made it easier, made time slow. Keeping hold of his eyes, she brushed her fingers across his jaw, waiting no longer. Her head dipped to the side, his breathing hypnotized against her parted lips. She could almost taste him, could feel him moving for her mouth, when something in her peripheral vision stopped her, cold. No.

Over Demming's fine, chiseled shoulder, she couldn't help but notice a couple going at it harder than necessary for a rave. They were dancing restrictedly, the man clad in dress pants, an off white button up, and jacket. The look was familiar. She watched, the handsome man's hands keeping his partner's hips firmly against him, and she was…one leg wrapped around his…her hand curled around…and…all over. His eyes were half closed, hair sticking out at unkempt angles – from her nails, no doubt – his cheek littered with lipstick. She had him in the palm of her hand, and she worked him in a way Kate knew she never could have. She tried convincing herself otherwise as Demming's hands roamed her neck, holding her to him, but when the other man looked, directly at her as if she'd called his name, she could and did make an accurate identification. Before she could stop it, the name slipped past her lips, her breath taken away from her – "Castle."

He saw her, clinging to Demming, and she saw him, being molested by his flight attendant, and they both locked on to each other's gaze, ripping into one other, each devouring the other's betrayal. He turned his attendant around and danced with her in a way that made Kate floosy with desire, immediately shoving it out of her mind with difficulty as she countered, biting Demming's ear and catching him totally off guard. Castle danced a little harder, getting handsy. Kate shimmied down Demming's front, pent up anger and frustration and hurt breaking free of their locks. Castle bit the woman sighing explicitly in front of him, and Kate's motivations reared, trembling with conflicting intentions. She was better than using an ex. She was better than Castle.

"I'm sorry, Tom. I shouldn't have –" She was breaking away from him, pointedly rushing to the stairs that led to a level of the ozone that did not contain him.

But Demming caught her arm. She hesitated, which he took advantage of, and she knew she deserved what was coming.

His lips crashed against hers, tugging and pulling and fast. He built her up, invoking her previously abandoned energy, taking her for what she was worth. And just when she thought she'd either explode or pass out from oxygen deprivation, he let go of her, smiling in some strange understanding.

"Apology accepted." She did her very best to break away from his eyes, turning to leave, tears brimming on her face. What a freaking circus. Her world had been turned into a freaking circus, ever since he'd started shadowing her. She lengthened her strides and rushed by Lanie and Esposito, who were clothed in pink and green light, twirling and laughing and in love. She was having him banned from her team, her precinct, from her. While the fog kept her cheeks dry, it choked her, and her only goal was to evade anyone else she knew, to escape the irritable, flashing strobe lights that dizzied her mind and confused the way of her feet. Who had she been kidding? That she'd been something more to him than a muse, a well of inspirational value, was a fantasy she had let loose in reality, somewhere in the past year. Now that Nikki Heat had been around for a while, he was obviously tired of her, more interested in flexible flight attendants. At least she knew, now, that she wouldn't have to look back on this mess and wonder "if only"-

A rough tug of her arm. If some jackass thought he was going to take advantage of her now, he had two black eyes coming –

"Don't go." Everything inside of her cracked, and she realized that a single tear had finally escaped down a flush cheek, decorated in glitter. She didn't know why she turned around, because what she really wanted was to continue her sprint for the stairs and get the hell out of the place, but he had her, he had her turned around. She didn't look at him, instead looking at his feet. The arm that had been taught in his grip went limp, and she swayed on the spot, unable to deal with this now. Try ever.

His lips moved, and he said something. Her breathing hitched with the music, pounding incredibly throughout her head. Whatever he had said, she couldn't hear from even the few feet from her that he was standing. She shook her head, defeated. What did he want? What else could he possibly want from her? He'd stolen her heart, and shattered it. He'd peeled away layers in her that no other had before, and used that position to inject her with the venom that was his love. She was beaten, she was broken, and she could take no more.

So she didn't have the strength to protest when he leaned in towards her, his familiar scent of old spice filling her nostrils, blinding her with his proximity. He moved so close that his lips were nearly touching her ear, kissing them with his words – "I said, I love you."

Her eyes flew up to meet his, disbelieving. The red sparkles intermixed with the silver ones of her dress shone bright as spotlights roamed over them, as the music thumped behind them, as cheers and sound rebounded off of the walls around them. The room vibrated with the impact of the life within, the floor humming, and air, electric. The corners of her mouth twitched upon looking at his head, and he wondered why just as he remembered he'd stuck a glow necklace crookedly onto his cap with the mood of the rave. He grappled for it, removing it, meanwhile letting her search his eyes for the truth he kept waiting for her, there. She would see that he was a fool, but only for her, she would see that he regretted the pain he'd put her through, she'd see that the only thing he wanted was her, and that no amount of flexible women could ever satisfy the need she had introduced in him. She would see that he was madly, horribly in love with her. She would see that, and his eyes sparkled, breathing insane and ragged, as he watched her identify all of those things from his eyes. And even if she wouldn't accept him now, after all of his sins, he would walk away without a fight, because he knew that she knew, even if it took her some time to accept it, that she saw the truth, that she'd born witness to every coffee, every early morning and late night, every effort he had put towards her that he had never put forth for any woman, before.

They stood, facing each other, apart. Possibly the only still bodies on the floor, in the middle of a rowdy, impossible rave, they stood. It went on, and on, and she broke away from his visual embrace, a small tear running its course down her face. His chest ached miserably as he took his glow necklace with both hands, slipping it over her head, around her neck. She tensed under his touch, shutting him out. He waited in silence, waited on his last hope, before stepping away, around her.

"Castle!" She shouted, somehow above the uncontrolled level of noise, somehow, straight to his heart. He spun around to find her staring at him, fiercely, as she would every time he didn't stay in the car that first year.

He became overwhelmed, lost in the deep base of the current music – forget hope, forget waiting. It was now or never. He couldn't walk away not knowing, not when she looked at him like that, not when she set fire to his veins. He yelled, yelled to her core, surprising her. "Do you love me?" He moved closer to her, his breath, his being, depending on hearing her answer. Magnetically, she came to him, both hands spread along either side of his jaw, her eyes needy, desperate, and sure. He held her elbows, unable to sustain his own weight. She was visibly shaking, lips parted, words stuck in her throat. He desperately searched her eyes, finding nothing, feeling the final knockdown as she blew out the flame of the candle he held for her. But she was coming closer still, so that her forehead pressed against his, so that her gentle touch could lift his mouth to hers, so that she could breathe one word from the threshold of her mouth, across no tainted air, directly into his, where she cemented it in with her lips, her tongue, and the glorious scraping of teeth, drawing out his bottom lip, and letting go, breath heavy, smile no one's but his.

"Always."

From somewhere in the distance, Castle thought he heard Lanie's voice, "Don't you 'Castle-free Zone' me, Javi, or I will make your bed a 'Lanie-free Zone' faster than those two are about to kiss and make up!"

But she was already too late.

He was so getting laid.

Review?;)