A/N: Because 'Smells Like Teen Spirit' sneak peeks keep giving me all kinds of ideas. This whole work is going to be rather abstract - ficlets that are little snapshots of Castle and Beckett. It's actually been fun to do, allowing me time to write something when I'm too busy to sit down and write a whole chapter or not in an angst-y mood for Manhattan (which will be updated soon, I swear!). I hope you enjoy.
Disclaimer: I don't own Castle. If I did, my bank account would have a lot more numbers in it.
She follows Castle begrudgingly, practically chases his long strides down the main hallway towards the pounding beat of music. It's one of those times where she hates his childlike enthusiasm, how it takes over even the most ordinary of actions when she really needs to catch her partner and convince him that they should go home rather than enter the horde of teenagers she can now see bouncing and swaying to a cover of a Mandy Sutton song she only vaguely remembers from the radio.
He's disappeared on her by the time Kate passes through the double doors, his dark hair and black suit blending impossibly with the bright glittery confections that the girls in the room have chosen for their school dance. She remembers her own experiences, the soft blue of her dress, the elaborate hairstyle her mom had spent most of the afternoon creating, the butterflies that had taken flight in her abdomen and kept up a steady dance until her date had ditched her to kiss another girl in the middle of the dance floor.
It'd ruined her night, to say the least. And at 17, Kate Beckett had lacked the confidence that she'd found during college when a boy had cheated on her. She'd slunk out of the dance and gone back home, ignored any and all references to the night. Spent all of twenty minutes at her senior prom the following year before heading to a gig with her grunge rocker boyfriend who had let her drink herself into a couple of decisions that she still questions almost sixteen years later.
Since then, she's never enjoyed high school dances. In fact, her memories of high school are an odd patchwork of stupid decisions, memorable nights, and heart break. Not all of the fond memories that Ryan, Esposito and Castle have been flooding her with during the case - detentions cast aside.
Kate stops just inside the door, presses her body back into the shadows of the wall while the band continues to play. She's decided not to chase after Castle, to hold her ground until he's completed whatever mission brought them to the dance and then go home for a long bath and a glass of red wine.
She never expects for Castle to slide up next to her as the song changes to a slower beat, how gentle he is when he takes her hand or how willingly she leaves her perch against the wall to follow him onto the dance floor.
"Castle, what are you doing?" Her question is voiced quietly, her breath stuttering in her throat as he places her left hand on his shoulder. It doesn't help when that his own left hand draws a smooth path along her arm and down her side, pressing with a calm assurance against her waist to pull her closer to his chest.
"Dancing," he responds easily, a slight twinkle in his eyes once their bodies begin to sway with the beat, "Because the next time we do this? You'll be wearing a gown, and have a new last name. I needed at least one dance with you before that happens - a dance with Kate."
She can't stop the smile that blooms across her face, so completely overwhelmed and in love with the man in front of her. He doesn't have a clue about her history with school dances, isn't pushing to right some wrong that a boy she barely remembers did to her. He's thinking ahead, focused on a future that fills Kate with so much joy and happiness that she sometimes thinks her heart will burst.
She loves him. Every single cell of her body, every facet of her mind are so completely in love with him that she can't imagine why she wasted years denying it. And now he's hers, and they are getting married.
"Okay, Castle," Kate breathes, "Let's dance."