Contact and Connection
Disclaimer: Castle's not mine. Dang it.
A/N: This was a joint project of myself and the amazing CuffedBunnies, who never fails to make me look like a much better writer than I am, and still manages to call me awesome.
Realization hit her first, but she could tell the moment when it arrived for him as well. She glanced up as soon as the flush that had curled through her body had subsided enough for her to manage the movement. Not that the delay helped to camouflage the sudden sensation: she knew that the rush of emotion was all there in her eyes.
She can't help it. All of these months, as careful as she has been, she isn't prepared for this. Not for the easy way that he lifts her hand into both of his, and not for the sudden sensation of his touch. There had been contact like this between them before, she knew that. There was the moment after she had asked him to lift her shirt, in the basement cell before they knew there was a tiger. She had nearly come undone when his hand caressed her back, but at least then her back had been to him.
And, even in the unintended first moments of this experience, she was quickly overwhelmed by the gentle warmth of his touch as his thumb glides over the back of her hand. What strikes her is the unassuming, unguarded way that it has happened. He hadn't been trying to create a moment between them - this wasn't the open flirting the often did so very easily. This was a simple, raw intimacy. This was real.
His own blue eyes found hers and froze. She hoped that he couldn't hear the slight intake of breath she couldn't stop. She forced her eyes down again, but then found herself trying to avoid looking directly at their still joined hands. She felt his touch falter, then freeze against her skin. She heard a slight click of his tongue, and then her breath caught as her eyes found his again.
The look in them is not exactly new to her, but it isn't one that she would call familiar, or expected. There is no teasing in this gaze of his, no leering glint, not even what she would have termed desire. No, what she has found in his eyes can only be called longing. Not so much innocent as pure, undiluted. She had the distinct thought that she might not survive this moment. But, he knew now, what he was doing to her, to both of them and -
And then, she felt his thumb circle over her hand again. Slower this time, even more gentle than before. Deliberate. Not to demonstrate a gesture for their charge, not this time. For her. Oh, god.
It occurred to her at just that moment that she was hopelessly lost. Because she should, - by nature, or simply their own conventions - be the one trying to pull away, to pull back. Only, she isn't, she can't. Because she knew this touch. The one that ran lightly at her jawline as he kissed her that night in an alley a year ago. The same touch that ran over her hair in the dark of the hanger as he alternated pleas for her safety with hushed apologies. The touch of his hand at the back of her neck as he cradled her, half pleading, half confessing, as they both realized she was dying.
Beckett knew enough to realize that she should pull back. But Kate can't do it, won't let herself. Because she knows that he loves her.
Castle couldn't help the excitement and happiness that this dog brought out in him. It was a brilliant reminder of the saying that dogs are man's best friend, and this golden retriever truly was. He knew he had to show Kate this one trick he'd found that the dog *loved!*
Without thought, he took her hand to show her, "You see, you make little circles with your thumb - not too hard - just like this."
With Beckett's hand in both of his, and having pushed her sleeve back just a little, he rubbed the back of her hand with his right thumb.
It was such an awesome little trick, and who else would have thought of something so clever? And the dog loved it...
Castle suddenly realized Beckett's hand had frozen in his. When he looked up to see what had happened, their eyes locked in for a long, silent instant.
He was unaccustomed to seeing the warmth that permeated her beautiful eyes, and it seemed to hold him captive in this moment. Then he crashed back to reality as he that realized her hand was still in his.
Kate's hand. In his. And she wasn't pulling away.
His chest filled with the longing he'd been holding on to for far too long, and he was sure that when she looked away for a moment Kate had seen it in his eyes. Rick immediately began to drink deeply of the details because he was sure this wasn't going to last long. He could feel the warm softness of her hands and smell the hint of her sweet perfume wafted in the air. Rick was close enough to almost count the green flecks sprinkled about in the otherwise brown sea of her hazel eyes.
His thumb seemed to skid to an awkward halt against her hand. His mouth went dry, and his tongue suddenly seemed too large in his mouth. He tried to swallow, or maybe just breathe. He was vaguely mortified to hear his tongue click audibly against the roof of his mouth, clumsy and inarticulate.
Well, he thought, they were here now. The hell with it. Slowly, he drew his thumb around the pattern again, slower now. The kind of deliberate touch that ghosted through his dreams, always seen but never quite felt. But he felt it now, he knew it now. What it was to touch her and mean it.
Castle knew that he should stop. Back away, give her the time and space he knew she wanted, that she thought she needed. But she was looking at him again, that look still there in her eyes, and as long as she would allow him to hold on, Rick can't bring himself to let go.