A/N: Castle has tested Kate's desire for him and her concern for his well being. Time for the third and final test.


Chapter Four
Committing


He loves going to weddings with her.

At weddings, she slides towards the softer end of the Kate to Beckett spectrum. At weddings, her hidden romantic side - the one she does such a good job of hiding - starts to cautiously bloom. At Kyra's wedding she'd looked so soft in her rose petal blouse, all of her broken glass edges ground down just for a night.

In the little Catholic church where Kevin and Jenny had recited their vows, she'd been unlaced than he'd ever seen. He hadn't been able to keep his eyes off her. Leaning forward in the pew, eyes bright and wide, she looked for all the world like a little girl who believed in fairy tales, and all he could think of in that moment was how he wanted to be the one to make her dreams come true. Later, they'd danced, only once, but he was hooked.

Tonight, she's beside him at different wedding, but she's wearing the same starry-eyed look as she smiles at the bride and groom dancing a few feet away from them. In Castle's not-so-humble opinion, Kate is glowing far brighter than the sweet second grade teacher his friend Paul is marrying.

He'd met Paul on the one and only writing retreat he'd ever attended, six weeks before Black Pawn picked up In A Hail of Bullets. He was about to decline the wedding invitation, but it was too tempting of an opportunity to rope Beckett into a date. "Come, on, Beckett," he'd whined. "You're my only friend that's not a guy." He'd tossed in a pout and told her Alexis had turned him down. Honestly, he hadn't even asked, just in case Alexis had said yes. She'd given in without too much trouble, and the past four hours have been a blur of vows and applause and good food. He's hoping he can keep her a little while longer, even though he'd said they could leave whenever she wanted to.

A new song starts, slow and jazzy, with an irresistible beat. He can almost feel the swing of the music pulling the final threads of tension out of Beckett's taut frame. He's enjoying the warmth of her upper arm pressed against his, gauging if she's relaxed enough to ask out on the dance floor.

But she beats him to it. She leans into him, nudging him almost to the point of tipping. "Let's dance, Castle."

"Thought you'd never ask." He lifts a brow. "No, really, I didn't think you'd ever ask."

He turns and offers his hand, but instead of taking it, she loops both arms around his neck. His hands land on her hips, maybe lower than strictly necessary. The deep green velvet of her dress feels magnificent. He holds his breath and slides his palms down so that his fingers meet over her lowest vertebrae, but miraculously, she stays quiet, and then she's swaying, swinging, moving perfectly in time to the pulsing bass line of the music.

"Mmm," she purrs. "I love Alicia Keys."

Whoa. Beckett does not say stuff like this. She's had two Jack and Cokes, and there was the endless round of champagne toasts, but she's not a lightweight. She's steady in his arms despite her higher than usual heels.

The way her body is moving is doing all sorts of things to his concentration levels - and his imagination. And right now, Castle is imagining her dancing alone in her apartment. In the scene unfolding in his mind, she's wearing black boy-cut underwear and a white spaghetti strap that clings to her so tightly she might as well not be wearing anything. Definitely no bra. She's at the stove, stirring something in a bright saucepan (apparently in his imagination she doesn't always eat takeout). She's barefoot and swaying to the only Alicia Keys song he's familiar with, her hips knocking left and right to the lyrics 'I keep on fallin' in and out of love with you.'

With sudden clarity, he knows that she has danced to that song, and thought of him whilst doing it. The song suits them, paralleling the ebb and flow of the last four years, of her pushing him away one moment and letting him a bit further in the next. It's always been two steps forward and one step back, though. Tonight is a testament to how much she's warmed up to him since they met, and how much his respect for her has grown.

The song playing now is different to the one in his daydream, not one he's heard. The amplifiers are pointed away from them and the subwoofer drowns out the lyrics, but Castle manages to make out some of the words. Something about a woman's worth, and 'a real woman knows a real man always comes first.'

He chuckles when she quirks an eyebrow at him and mouths along with the lyrics 'I'll hold you down when shit gets rough' like it's her favorite line of the whole song, a laugh on her lips. God, this is why he loves her. She's so fun, just as silly as him, only she doesn't let just anyone see it.

The way she's moving makes him bold. He loves that he doesn't even have to bend down to whisper in her ear. He lets his lips touch her skin, just briefly. "Mmm, yeah, it's a pretty good song actually. Can't say I agree with all the lyrics, though."

"I dunno, Castle, I think I do a pretty good job of holding you down when shit gets rough."

It's true, they have held each other down. Been each other's solid ground through more ridiculously rough situations than any two people should get into. She's still smiling, so he knows she's not thinking about the one time he had to literally hold her down, behind the hanger as Montgomery faced down her hunters. But that's not what he really wants to talk about.

"Not the line I was referring to."

For a moment she looks puzzled, rewinding the lyrics in her head, and then suddenly she gets it. He can tell because she swallows so hard he can hear it.

"I'm a firm believer that the woman should come first," he says.

He's a firm believer, alright. He'd better step back before she notices. He's pretty sure from the first test that she wants him, but tonight's not about finding that. Tonight is about finding out if she wants a serious, long-term relationship with him. If she'll let him have a shot at being her one and done.

He cringes inwardly, regretting his words. If he's read her wrong - if she's not interested in him at all, the evening is about to crash down around them. Because this isn't their normal brand of sexual tension - this time it's serious, not light and playful. If she doesn't feel the same electricity crackling between them, she'll come down hard on him with eyes iced over. He'll be on is own in seconds. If she's as affected as he is by the proximity they've shared this evening, by the heat captured between the curves of their stomachs, she'll run anyway, but not far.

"You know what? I could use another drink," she says.

And just like that, she's gone.

He watches as she crosses the room, taps her fingers on the polished wood of the bar while she waits for her drink.

While she's occupied, he takes the opportunity to skirt the crowd of dancers to the table set up on the far end of the room. Then he slips the DJ fifty bucks and a portable USB stick with a single mp3 on it.


She's perched sideways on her chair, watching the jumping neons on the floor with a zoned out, almost dreamy look on her face when Castle he hears the opening notes of the next song. His song. He pulls her up and into his arms, angling them onto the dance floor. She opens her mouth to protest, but there's no time. He needs her to listen.

"Shh." He breathes it into her ear. She can be stubborn as hell, but she gentles against him now. She wouldn't give in if it were the first dance of the evening, but she's slowly become acclimated to being held by him over the course of the evening.

Castle gives her a minute to listen, to absorb the words and the helpless devotion in the melody.

You are all that I taste

at night

inside of my mouth

He wonders if she remembers how their kiss tasted.

God, he'll never forget it. At first her lips were cold; they tasted of ice and crisp night air. But then she'd opened to him, and he lapped up the flavor of her, something warm and rich and indescribably Kate, laced with a hint of vanilla latte.

The first kiss was calm. She tasted practical and steady, reminding him of how she does such an amazing job of tempering his zaniness.

But the second kiss - the second kiss tasted like desire. Heat. Abandon. And he knew that she was in it as far as he was if he could make her lose control like that with just a kiss.

But the whole time she'd tasted like home.

You are in my veins

and I cannot get you out

Halfway through the song, he prepares to ask The Question, dropping his voice so she knows how important this is.

"What about this one?"

"The song? What about it?" she asks.

"Do you agree with these lyrics?" Here it comes. The moment of truth. "Kate - do you think you'll ever get me out of your veins?"

He prays she won't go for levity. It's his job to bring that to the relationship, but he doesn't want it right now, doesn't want her to pick up the mantle if he drops it this time. He doesn't want her to make some snarky allusion to how she'll never shake him off, like he's just a clingy puppy nipping at her heels. He doesn't want her to act like she doesn't want him there beside her every day.

She startles at the question and looks up at him. He sees something entirely new in her eyes that might be fear, but not the same kind of fear that makes that makes her go out and do brazenly stupid things in the name of justice.

"Who said you were in them?" she asks. Her voice is low and raw.

"They did." He brings her wrist up so they can both see it, and he circles his thumb over the blue vein of her pulse. Sure enough, he can feel the quickening of her heartbeat, watches as her blood brings a blush to her cheeks.

"So. Do you?" he asks.

She stares intently at the undone button at the collar of his shirt.

"Kate. Do you think you'll ever get me out of your veins?"

At the almost imperceptible shake of her head, his heart attempts a jailbreak from the cage of his ribs.

She follows the uncharacteristically shy little gesture with a steady, simple verbal answer.

"No."

And then she hides her face in his shoulder, mumbling into his shirt, breathing heat into his skin.

"No, Castle, I probably never will. Now shut up and just dance with me. You're not getting any more out of me tonight."

He complies.


A/N: Hopefully this chapter did a little to rectify Castle's bad behavior in the last two chapters. Thank you for not giving up on me! Next chapter probably won't be until after Christmas, so have a very happy holiday wherever you may be. If you're hungry for fics, there are a lot of wonderful stories from the Summer Ficathon, including my completed piece, if you haven't gotten around to them yet. Have fun!

-Bri x