AN: Chapter two- extra long for you guys :)
The next evening, Castle arrived at Beckett's apartment. He had picked out his smartest suit- a dark, Italian thing with a dark red shirt to compliment Kate's dress and a tie to match. He'd made it all the way to her apartment, he'd stopped by the floral shop by his home and bought her a bouquet, even though she told him not to. He was beginning to regret that now. What if she yelled at him? What if…oh no, she wasn't bringing her gun, was she? He shouldn't have gotten her flowers. Definitely not the 12 red roses he held. This was a bad idea. He couldn't bring himself to knock. Why? It was just a door. A standard, painted, cheap door, with the numbers 412 plated in brass. Katherine Beckett's door. He raised his hand to knock, before pausing, loosing nerve, and dropping it by his side. This sad, sad routine carried on at least minutes longer before he actually followed through, and when his fist hit the wood, there was no turning back. He stood up straighter, tried to wipe the sweat off his moist palms, and did his best to hide behind the dozen of red flowers. He heard the door swing open, accompanied by the flooding of a soft yellow light and the faint scent of a blossoming cherry orchard. "Castle," he heard the almost nervous voice of Beckett. He tried to read it, and without the sight of her expression to mirror the infliction in her tone, it was hard to place, but could it be? Was she amused? Yes, there was definitely the imposition of a smile in that silky voice. He poked his head from behind the roses, quite bravely, he thought. He blinked a few times to make sure he wasn't seeing things. She stood before him, only a sliver of her revealed apartment as her backdrop, simply stunning in the dress he purchased a mere day ago. If he thought it was beautiful on the plastic hangar, God it was gorgeous on her. It fell to fit every curve, every defined line of her body as if the seamstress had made it uniquely for her. He gaped in amazement.
"Beckett. You look…." He grasped at the air for the right words, but for the first time in his life, words alluded him. "Breathtaking would be an understatement," he settled, unimpressed with his lack of creative adjectives. One of her fine eyebrows reached the arch it so often loved to perch in, high on her brow.
"I said no flowers," she said, trying to feign annoyance but too pleased to be convincing. Instead she just smiled one of those award winning smiles and accepted the bouquet, taking it inside to set it in a vase. Once she grabbed her hand bag and her invitation, she rejoined Castle at her front door. He offered his crooked arm out to her, always the gentlemen, and much to his pleasure, she accepted it, slipping her thin arm around his and letting him lead her to the city streets.
They arrived to the party just in time. The reunion was being held at the Sheraton New York, one of the nicer hotels in Manhattan, just off 53rd and 7th. It was large and the hall was filled with people, meeting, catching up, sharing one too many drinks at the open bar. There was a small stage with a neat little microphone set up, for the no doubt embarrassing walk down memory lane that would inevitably ensue- as they always did at these kind of events. At the front entrance they received name tags and badges, as well as a list of people attending. The whole thing was very formal, and all Kate's fears of being over-dressed flew out the window, although she did have one of the nicest ones there. Before the pair could dive into the thick throng of mingling adults, though, Kate pulled Castle aside. "Please, please don't make me regret bringing you," she began. If he only thought she was nervous before, he could be sure of it now. She was biting her lip in that adorable way, teasing at a loose strand of hair Lanie had previously strategically pulled from the French bun on her head.
"Kate, your assumptions hurt," Rick pretended to be offended. "I wouldn't dream of such a thing." Her smile was whole-hearted but weak with nerves, and he understood why. His first reunion was nerve-wracking, to say the least, and that was before he was on the New York Times Bestseller List. He didn't have to imagine what she was going through. He was overcome with an urge to make the evening flow smoothly, and began by taking her arm. "I can't make you look good as we huddle in the dark corners of the ballroom," he told her, "people may get the wrong idea." Kate once again rolled her eyes but let him lead her onto the floor.
She was assaulted with familiar faces and memories that married them, the stereotypical few, the quarterback, the cheerleader, the homecoming queen, the nerd, that quite girl that wore sweaters even in the summer. All these people and more, all waging war on her cerebral cortex, all demanding the forefront of her attention. Many recognized her, many called to her, some started a conversation. It was the same old questions: what do you do now, how's life treating you, whatever did you do after school? And of course the most popular one of the evening: How ever did you meet, let alone date, Richard Castle?
Too quickly he became the topic of conversation, mostly with the women. How did they meet, how long were they dating- and then, once any misconceptions were cleared up- His muse? Well how did that happen, and then famously, can I get your number? Castle declined to all of them, politely, much to Kate's relief. Relief? Why was she feeling relief? More importantly, why was she feeling a pang in her stomach every time someone asked him?
As the evening moved on, she got tired of explaining the complexities of their relationship, so she just sort of went with it when they assumed they were dating. Whatever, Kate thought. It's not like I will be seeing any of them anytime soon. Rick was the perfect company, too. As much as she worried about him making a fool out of both of them, he was quite the escort. He was his usual, charming, funny self, but with an extra filter he usually kept off. He was a brilliant actor, Kate decided, playing the role of doting boyfriend very well. He kept his hands on her but at a friendly level, never once straying, emitting an image of closeness but careful not to breech her personal space. He smiled, told jokes, excluding his 'vast arsenal of rapier wit.'
She was actually enjoying herself, she realized. Of course there were always those awkward moments- like when she ran into Jenny Crawford, a girl she decked in the tenth grade, or Brad Goldberg, an ex-boyfriend. Otherwise the evening went smoothly. That is at first.
Beckett excused herself from Rick's side to use the ladies room, in which she did everything but actually use the bathroom. She checked her hair, her make-up, her dress. It still fell to her every curve. She smiled as she saw herself. She was having fun. She checked her cell phone for the time and was sad to see the late hour. It would all be over soon. He would drop her off at home, she would take off the dress, never to be worn again, and she would go to bed, alone. She would see him next week at the precinct, and life would go on as normal.
That is what she wanted, she told herself. When the thought wasn't enough to convince her, she said it aloud to her reflection in the mirror. "That is what I want," she said. She pretended to accept this, forcing herself to accept it. She patted her hair again, pushing it behind her ears out of habit and straightened her dress one last time before grabbing her bag and returning to the party. She traveled through the thick throng of people in search of her date.
Her non-date.
At long last she found him, and stopped short of approaching him. He was talking to a woman Kate vaguely remembered as Mellissa Jackson. The years had been kind to her, and the way Castle was laughing at what was obviously a joke ignited a spark deep within Kate. She watched as the woman touched his arm, leaving it there a second too long before accepting a drink Castle offered her. Something new raged through Kate- a foreign emotion taking control. What the hell was he doing? Couldn't he go anywhere without flirting with the first floozy to smile at him? The more she thought about it, the less she liked Mellissa. Now or in the past. No, if she remembered correctly, Mellissa was always taking what wasn't hers.
Wait. What wasn't hers? That couldn't be right. That wasn't what Kate meant to think. No, Castle was free game. She had no stake on him. He should be able to flirt with whomever he likes, she told herself. These realizations did nothing to sooth the jealousy that had overcome her. Jealousy? Is that what this felt like? She didn't like it. Not one bit. He was her date. Her non-date, as she was quick to remind him. Why did she say that? At the moment she couldn't remember precisely, but she was sure there was some sort of rational reason.
Rationality, she discovered, had no place among jealousy. There simply was no room.
She approached the bar coolly. She was no longer in control of her actions- the rational Kate had vacated, leaving a jealous woman behind. "Hey, KB," he greeted her, smiling at her return. "I just met your friend Mellissa here, she said you guys were pretty tight Senior year?" he placed a hand on her back, sending a small shock and shiver down her spine.
If you could call a wave in the hallway every once and a while 'tight,' she thought, bitterly to herself. She and Mellissa were never really all that close, she suspected she just wanted an in with Castle. "Yea," she said instead, smiling at the woman she so despised. "Mellissa, you look great! Whatever happened to you?"
"You know, did the college thing," Mellissa began what was going to be a ten minute monologue of her life's story. Her voice was just as Kate remembered it- loud, droning and obnoxious. Then again the jealous woman was remembering, not Kate in herself. Needless to say these judgments were clouded. "But hey-" she finally finished. "What about you? Rick here was just telling me about your career- you're a cop now?"
Rick? Kate's eyebrow shot up of its own accord. "Detective," she was quick to correct. Not that Mellissa paid any attention. She was more interested in 'Rick.' Kate wanted to get sick. At the way Mellissa was drooling all over Castle. The way Castle was grinning like a fool and flirting right back. The way she was acting. What am I doing? She asked herself, rational Kate regaining control. Marking territory, Irrational Kate told her. And then she pressed into Castle's side, an arm snaking around his waist.
Mellissa got the message at once. Irrational Kate had made her point and gotten her way. It took Mellissa a whole five seconds to excuse herself in search for the next poor, ringless man. Castle looked down at her, as she still was glued to his side. "What the hell was that about?" he asked her. She listened to his tone. Not anger, no. Surprise. Amusement? There was definitely amusement in there. But before either Rational Kate or Irrational Kate could answer, the loud rustlings of a microphone sounded, and the crowded ballroom fell silent. A small woman had assumed the stage and cleared her throat. Obviously announcements were about to be made. Kate, for no other reason than she was comfortable and he was warm, didn't release Castle when she turned to face the stage. The crowd sat in rapture.
"First of all," the woman began. "The owner of the silver mini-van out front, your lights are on," she said, reading from a note card. A loud shuffling sound from mid-crowd erupted as the owner pushed past people, aiming for the exit. "And now that that's taken care of, we can officially begin! I would first like to thank you all for coming out here- I know it's great to see all of these familiar faces! For those of you who don't remember me, I'm Liz Nealson, former class president. I want to kick off the evening with a slideshow, and then I have some superlatives to announce!" and with that, Liz Nealson stepped down from the stage, and photos put to sentimental music began to play.
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