Wedding

This is a thing that happened on in a group chat with my Otter and my Zhod. It's not edited at all, and barely tweaked as I transferred it from chat to document file. I realize that it lacks a structure, paragraphs what are those? but it's how I wrote it and how it rhythmed out as it came to me. Just go with it.

I don't know what else to say, because this story attacked me one night before be. Tonight I decided to share it with my friends and the rest of you.

Disclaimer: I don't own this dog and pony show folks, but Stigmata is on SyFy, so I am going to go watch it.

Kate's wedding dress was this great thing with all of these Victorian buttons and Castle kind of hated it, but he was also sure there wasn't a word in existence to describe how beautiful he thought she looked.

It was strapless and white and shimmery and soft and she just kind of floated around in it, because after the ceremony she kicked off her heels and didn't really know where she left them.

And she tried to tell Castle what her wedding present was between the ceremony and the reception, but their photographer needed them right away for all the group shots and family pictures. And there was this great picture where Jim was walking into the frame and Castle had decided it was a perfect time to tickle his new bride. She got this face-splitting smile and she laughed and she surged toward the camera, trying to get away. Her hair and her veil flying out behind her. Both men were laughing too.

And he pulled her away, after their first dance, into a quiet corner to give her his gift. It was a tiny little box wrapped in a matte plum paper with a a strand of twine knotted around it in a bow, just like string that held her bouquet of violets and purple cremon and indigo pompom flowers together.

She gave him a dopey smile before she tore into it, something so completely unlike her, and found a long strand of worn leather lacing coiled over an old brass key.

It was tarnished and clearly precious to him. She gave him a questioning look and he gave her a weird smile, before he slipped the length of leather over her head and tucked the key into the bodice of her dress.

Then he dragged her back into their party and twirled her around the dance floor until he was forced to pass her off to her father for their father daughter dance. He gratefully shared this same dance with Alexis.

And then when dinner was served she "forgot" she had her own chair and threatened him within an inch of his life if spilled on her dress.

He didn't, of course, and he fed her her dinner. She dozed lazily against his shoulder while he ate his.

They toasted with sparkling juice, a blend of apple and strawberry and a dash of macerated blueberries floating in it.

They'd agreed, after a joking comment made over wedding plans, that the Old Haunt wouldn't be serving alcohol that night.

So there were mocktails galore, and no one noticed their sobriety.

They danced again until it was time for cake, and they laughed as they shoved it in each other's faces, smearing the blackberry-peach compote that was spread between each layer all over.

He took great pleasure in cleaning the rich, creamy, lightly spiced frosting off of her nose.

And he had long since kissed off her sweet pink lipstick, so when Martha came to fuss over her ruined make up she just grinned over shoulder at him as her mother-in-law absconded with her her.

When he got her back he does his very best to never let her go again, and received a pinch to his side when he picked her up and spun her away from her second cousin Lizzie's boyfriend Byron, who was just a little smitten and very keen to dance.

She danced with the gangly teenager and Castle pouted the whole time, because he'd just realized he does not like sharing. Not one bit, and he pounced on her at the end of the song, tugging her back to their table for cuddling and quiet conversation. And maybe a light make out... or three.

And when they finally, finally leave all they want to do is take a nap, but they have to wait for Martha to come and help Kate out of her dress. Rick tried but his fingers just couldn't finagle the tiny little buttons that ran in a neat column down her spine.

Once they were alone again they fall into the bed and sleep for three hours. And when they wake up he gives her a sweet kiss, bringing her closer into his side.

He tugs on her key, slipping it off, and then rolls to the side to pull out another box.

It was wrapped just the same, but larger and heavy.

She peels the paper away and it's a chest. Just like the one that she keeps on their dresser a few feet away. Rosewood and hand carved and right there on top, was a picture of them taken right as they turned back down the aisle, following their I do's.

He explains he'd collaborated with her dad and the photographer. The woman had printed off the proof for him to use before they ever left the church, and her father had dropped by the loft to finish his handiwork and wrap it, which explained the delay between their first dance and the other customary dances.

Then he turns the key in the lock and lifts the lid. There is a necklace inside, a pendant at one end was shimmering in the evening light; two lines of gems wound round each other like DNA, one citrine and the other diamond.

And she nearly knocks him and the chest off the bed when she lunges for him. Wrapping him in a tight hug and pressing a searing kiss to his lips.

She wipes at her sudden tears before she moves the box out of the way and settles herself on his outstretched legs.

She's not even wearing sexy lingerie. She opted for comfort instead, a flesh toned strapless bra and some pale-pink-lace boy shorts. He doesn't think she's ever been sexier either.

But then she's shy. Taking both of his hands and dropping her gaze. She fiddles with his fingers in silence for a few moments before he shakes her loose and tips her head up to look at him.

"Your wedding present, it isn't just for you," she explains quietly, nervously.

And she ducks her head again, seeking his hands once more.

She grabs him by the wrists this time, and presses his open palms against her flat stomach. "I found out last week. I was late and annoyed, because I didn't want to deal with it on our honeymoon. It was just a whim. I don't know why I bought the test. And then I took it and it was positive and three days ago I got a blood test done. We're in that point-zero-one-percent," she laughs. "They are holding an appointment, if you want to go get an ultrasound before we leave in the morning." It never even crossed her mind that he wouldn't be excited, but she is feeling more and more defeated the longer he stares, with a totally unreadable expression, at his hands.

He finally blinks, and meets her eyes again. "Baby? You got us a baby?" He is still far away in a dream like trance, but his eyes are dancing with amazement and love and shine.

And she breathes a sigh of relief and tells him that no, we got us a baby, but he's still lost in that haze and just gives her a completely besotted smile.

He tenderly strokes her stomach and then pulls her quite possessively against his chest. "I am not taking you to France. I'm wrapping you in cotton and taking you to my zombie-apocalypse bunker."

"No, you are taking me to France. We are going to have lots of great sex in a big fluffy bed and eats lots of rich food and hold hands on a topless beach and do all kinds of stupid touristy things. Then when we come back I am going to ask Gates to put me on a desk, and have her make it sound like a punishment so the boys don't ask. I'm not taking any chances with this. Minimize our chances of life and death, and stress." She is kind of teary when she stops talking and he is pulling her in by the cheeks for a kiss that curls her toes, pops her foot, and steals every breath she has ever taken.

And then they christen their bed as a married couple and as parents.