Plus One

as always, co-written by Sandiane Carter and chezchuckles


At last.

They're going to leave. The MC is apparently Jenny's father, because he's teary-eyed as he bids farewell to the band and asks the wedding guests to line up along the entrance so the newlyweds can run the gauntlet. He promises them that the DJ and the ballroom are theirs for another couple hours, but right now they all need to see the couple off.

Castle still has a hand on Kate's waist, but she's groaning and twisting away from him. "I need my camera. Did you see who had it last?"

Oops. "No. Esposito passed it off to someone awhile ago, Lanie, I think. But there's no telling-"

She runs a hand through her hair, indecisive, and Castle steps in front of her, shielding her against the flow of traffic against them. Everyone on the dance floor is heading for the hotel's front doors, grabbing a little bottle of bubbles on their way out.

Kate puts a hand to his chest, pushes him back. "Let me go get my phone at least. I think it has more megapixels than my camera anyway-"

Castle turns and spearheads his way through the oncoming guests, Kate's hand bunched in his jacket as she follows him. They're jostled by relatives and friends, pushed into each other more often than not, and just when he's breaking through the last of them, Kate stumbles into his shoulder.

He reaches behind him and grabs her by the hip, holding her up, turning his head to look at her. "Okay?"

"Good," she answers on a laugh and extricates herself from the tangle of tulle and flowers at her feet. "Not sure where this came from."

He still has a hand on her hip; she wraps her fingers around his tie and lifts her foot, tugging a swatch of decorative material from her heel. He can feel the press of her forearm down the center of his chest, the flare of her hip under his palm.

"Okay, lead on," she says, pushing on him a little when she's got her feet under her.

Castle threads his fingers through hers and tugs her back to their table. She shakes him off to get her clutch, pulling her phone out and checking it. Kate glances up to him, takes him by the elbow and turns him back around.

"Let's go. I don't want to miss this."

She hooks her arm through his, their strides matching perfectly, and her body - strong and sinuous and appealingly curved - presses at his side as they head for the front doors.

He nabs two little containers of bubbles as they go, glances at her face when he hands it to her. Kate is all wide-mouth smile and brown-brimming eyes, and she's looking at him and nowhere else. Her fingers are cool against his palm as she takes the bubbles, still grinning, her hair falling into her eyes.

They line up side by side in the gauntlet of guests that runs from the lobby, out the front doors, and all the way towards the car that's pulled up. A vintage 1930s Beauford convertible in cream and brown, the top up, the black tire mounted on the running board under the windshield. The classic wedding car. With a driver idling the engine.

"Nice," he murmurs, and feels Kate shifting beside him to peer down the long row of people.

"Here they come," she says, swaying against him as she bounces a little. He's not sure how she manages that, considering how high her heels are, but she turns a ridiculously happy face towards him and squeezes his arm. "Look."

He obeys, glancing down the row to watch Kevin and Jenny ducking through a veil of bubbles, the Ryans now, Jenny with a grin that won't stop, Kevin nodding his head to people he knows, fist-bumping a few. Castle really does, kinda, envy them. He'd do it again if it looked like this.

If it was this woman on his arm then as she is now.

Castle has only to shift his gaze to take her in, instead of the wedded two coming down the gauntlet towards them. Kate has twisted the top off of her bottle, her mouth already pursed and blowing, the diaphanous bubbles forming, tremoring circles, then floating away.

His stomach clenches; he finds himself pressing her elbow into his side with his arm and then sliding his hand to her waist, thumb at her hipbone, needing to hold on.

Dizzy with it, the angular cheekbones, the line of her nose, the parting of her lips when she dips the wand back for more, Castle doesn't even get his own bubbles out, simply stands dazed and struck as Kevin and Jenny pass down the receiving line.

He feels Ryan's slapping palm to his shoulder as he moves on, turning to watch only because Kate has turned as well, blows bubbles past his ear and over his shoulder, her body crowded against his back.

Now that Kate isn't in his line of sight, he finds he can breathe again, resume normal functions; he even manages to blink.

Ryan holds the door open for Jenny; she slides across the backseat to the other side, pats the spot next to her with a laugh. Castle can hear Esposito catcalling, the Ryan sisters are crying and waving, Jenny's huge family is shouting orders and trying to outdo one another in making the couple blush.

The driver waits a beat longer and then starts slowly pulling out; rattling behind the car are brightly colored handcuffs, neons and pinks mostly, leopard print and padded, a few standard police issue, and their clatter causes Ryan to turn, notice the decorations. Jenny is seriously blushing this time, but Kevin starts laughing, raises up in the backseat, and makes his half of the feed the birds gesture.

Esposito whoops and returns it.

Beside Castle, Kate is laughing so hard that she leans against his shoulder, gasping, her chin poking into him. He turns to look at her with a grin, raises his eyebrows. "Any of those handcuffs yours?"

She laughs harder, shaking her head, wipes a tear from the corner of one eye, glances at her finger to make sure there's no mascara running (he's seen that move often enough to know).

She sighs on a laugh and lifts joyful, teasing eyes to his.

"No, Castle. I'm saving mine."


As they turn around with the rest of the crowd and head back inside, having to zigzag between the people - mostly families with young children, and older folks - who are leaving now and saying goodbye, Kate cannot help throwing little glances over her shoulder. As if she expects Ryan and Jenny's car to still be there, as if she could prolong the moment by the sheer force of her will.

Castle notices the shift in her mood, of course; he squeezes her hand, gives her a questioning look.

She has to stop the hand-holding thing. She knows she does. But he reached for her fingers so he could lead them back inside, not even a hold really, simply a loose curl of his hand around hers, and she just -

She doesn't have the heart to deny him a simple pleasure.

Not when she's denying him everything else.

She waits until they're back in the dining room to answer the question he hasn't asked. The space is quieter and somehow, more intimate than before, but she knows it won't last - it's simply because not everyone has made their way back yet.

"I just - it goes by so quickly, you know?" she says softly, sitting in the chair he pulls out for her. She watches him sit down next to her, his face so relaxed, handsome; his blue eyes are shining with attention, urging her on. "All this preparation - all the anticipation, the excitement, and then... Before you know it, it's over already."

Honestly, she doesn't know where the melancholy comes from. She was laughing not ten minutes ago, delighted with the handcuffs thing and the general euphoria, but now -

She doesn't want it to be over.

Ah, but it doesn't have much to do with Ryan and Jenny, does it?

"Well," Castle says, his voice deep, meant only for her. "Somebody more optimistic might tell you that you're looking at this the wrong way. That instead of being over, it's just... the beginning."

She huffs an amused sound, her lips curving into a reluctant smile.

"And that somebody more optimistic would be you, Castle?"

He shrugs, grinning back, obviously pleased with his ability to cheer her up. Her chest feels too tight, all of a sudden.

"Maybe," he says.

"What you call optimistic, some people would call cheesy," she points out, arching an eyebrow at him. "And probably unrealistic, too." Is she leaning towards him? It feels like she is. She tries to move away, sit up straighter, but her spine is being rebellious tonight.

Great. As if her fingers were not enough.

Castle smiles - he doesn't seem to have any trouble with riotous body parts, and she's more than a little jealous - and inches a little closer. Thus undoing all of her previous efforts. She sighs inwardly.

"I don't think any of those people are here tonight," he says confidently, waving off her objection with a flick of his hand. His eyes are warm, tender. "Do you?"

Oh, he's making it hard to think when he looks at her like that. Not the lustful leer, not the puppy dog face, just -

The eyes of a man who loves her.

"No," she says at last, and it's funny that her voice can come out so low, when her heart is a loud, frantic hammer in her chest. "No, I guess not."

He beams at her, apparently enchanted that she's willing to forego her own mistrustful nature for one night, and she's not sure what she might do - it's too much, too much, the twinkle in these deep blue eyes, the radiant happiness in his smile - when a sudden flash of light blinds her, makes her jerk back in shock.

"Ow," Castle exclaims indignantly as she blinks, dazed. "That was-"

"-painful," she finishes together with him.

He gives a light, surprised chuckle that she ignores, focusing on the source of the flash as her vision clears. A twenty-something guy with a mess of dark hair is standing a few meters away, holding a camera, and he grins at them, gives them a thumbs up.

"Great picture, guys!" he says before moving to another group of people.

And that's -

That's her camera.

"Wait, kid!"

She jumps to her feet, pushed by a strong conviction that if she doesn't get it back now, she might never see that camera again.

She doesn't care so much about the camera, to be honest - she's been planning to get a new one for ages - but the pictures on it are another story. She wants them. Badly.

Kate dashes after the young man, dodging the guests who are still coming back in, and finally lands a hand on his shoulder, her grip strong enough to make him swing around. The stunned, and somewhat scared look on his face makes her smile in satisfaction.

Even though he's not a murder suspect.

"That's mine," she says, gesturing at the camera. He stares at her dumbly, and in the end she simply reaches for her possession, delicately unwrapping his fingers from around it. "Thanks," she says, leaving him standing there as she heads back to the table.

Castle is watching her, amusement dancing in his eyes.

"I think you just traumatized the poor kid," he comments as she takes her seat next to him.

"Nah," she says dismissively, "he'll be fine. And jeez, thanks *so much* for the help back there, Castle."

He grins. "You didn't need any. You got it."

The smile escapes her before she can rein it in.

"You know what that means, though, don't you? You didn't help get the camera. You don't get to see the pictures."

"Woah, woah, woah. Now, that seems a little extreme."

"Does it? Only sounds fair to me," she shrugs, very pleased with his sudden concern. "But, you know. You can always try begging, if you feel so inclined."

"Oh, really. Begging."

She can tell by his voice that he's all but thrilled with the idea, but there's mirth in there too, and that thoughtful note that says he's planning something. She's pulled her chair away from his, so that she can look at the pictures without him seeing them, but she quickly turns the camera off again when he draws near.

"Castle."

"Please, Kate," he says, his voice so earnest, so raw; and when she looks up he's entirely too close, blue eyes too intense, almost dark in the dim light.

He's just messing with her. She knows he is.

And yet -

No.

"No," she says firmly. "You'll have to do better than that."

Okay, and her mouth is running away from her now. Why can't she just leave it alone? Instead of asking for trouble.

"Do better?"

He looks much too happy with the suggestion; he slides to the edge of his chair, leaning in towards her, and her heart skips a beat or two.

He takes her free hand in his, gentle and slow, cradling it to his chest, eyes beseeching, and then -

He promptly snatches the camera from her unsuspecting right hand, laughing triumphantly as she blinks, stunned, trying to get past the flicker of disappointment in her chest, the numbness in her brain.

"Gotcha," he winks, a proud grin on his face.

Uh-huh.

Yeah. He's definitely got her.


"Heh," he laughs, grinning at the goofy-looking picture of Ryan from before the wedding, when they all met up in the foyer.

Kate makes a noise - something like a grunt or a growl, something he is completely willing to attempt to replicate - and she shoves on his shin with her foot. The heels have finally come off, thank goodness, because otherwise that would've hurt.

"Stop hogging the camera, Castle. I can't see."

He lifts his eyes from the screen and crooks his finger at her. "Then get over here, Beckett, and stop whining about it. Fair's fair."

"It's not fair," she mutters, but she does come, scooting her chair closer to his and craning her neck to see.

He sighs. "Not like that." Castle shifts slightly, then reaches over and grips the seat of her chair and drags the whole thing over to him. She lets out a startled laugh, clutching the sides of the chair, lifting her feet. "There ya go."

She stares at him for half a beat, mouth open on a grin, then she gives in and pulls her legs up under her, leaning in.

Her body presses against his back; he has to prop his elbows up on the table to stay steady as Kate peers over his shoulder. Her left arm brackets his on the table, she uses her thumb to advance the photo, then laughs softly in his ear at the next picture.

"How'd you get that one?" he smiles, tilting his head to see clearer.

"I turned the flash off. It's a little blurry, I bet, when you zoom in-"

Her hand crosses his body to get at the zoom function, tightening up on the faces of Jenny and Ryan in front of the priest, being presented as man and wife. It is a little blurry.

"You can clean that up a little in photoshop."

"I'll probably slip it to one of the guys in tech."

He grins and turns her his head to tell her good idea but when he does, her face is scant inches from his own, her eyes dark and glittering with amusement, with nonchalance and ease and all the things he never thought he'd see in her when he's this close. Her eyes flit down to gaze at his mouth (he can practically feel it, a tingling touch to the raw nerves of his lips), and then her eyes are back at his.

She has no idea she does that. She has no idea what it does to him.

"Keep going," she says, a little impatiently, and reaches forward again to see the next photo. She presses against him, flush with his back, all firm and strong and good-smelling Kate.

The next picture startles him into forgetting - for only a second - how close Kate leans against him. The display shows him in profile, that squinty-eye look he doesn't exactly love, but his smile is at least genuine and-

"Oh, that's a good one," she murmurs, and everything in him goes very still at her tone, the regard, even as she's already flipping to the next photo. A closeup of flowers in someone's hand, then the next is one of the flower girls peering around the door at the front of the church. After that-

He laughs out loud, jostling Kate at his back so that she leans a forearm against his shoulder blade to prop herself up, her face turning to him.

"It's not funny."

"Oh, that's classic. Who took this one?"

She huffs. "Probably Lanie. I think she had - no. It would have to be Esposito, right? He had it first."

"He did. I love this." It's Kate slamming back her first amaretto at his side, the look on his face clearly gleeful while hers is determined. "What else did Espo get?"

She's still got her left arm around him, advancing the photos while he uses his right hand to hold the camera on the table. The warmth of her body at his back is so good, so comforting, he hopes the camera was passed around to every wedding guest here.

They go through most of them in silence, laughing from time to time at a random shot, at people they've never seen, at the little kid breakdancing, the blurred thing that might actually be Kate at the edge of the screen, the candids and the poses, the snapshots of all aspects of the wedding party.

And then they're at the end. The photo-taking that prompted Kate to chase after the young guy and get her camera back.

Just the two of them. Sitting close. Leaning in.

At first, Castle is so riveted by the Kate in this photo, an angle to her face so that it shows mostly her profile, that mane of wavy hair, the sharp angle of her chin, the long, sure line of her nose, the ridge of her eyebrow - at first, this is all he sees, all he can possibly see. Kate.

Then he realizes that the Kate leaning against him has sucked in a breath and gone quiet, her chin - which was propped on his shoulder until now - is hovering just above him, her palm flat at his back as if she's not sure whether to stay or leave.

And then he sees. Sees the whole picture.

Most of his own face in this photo is in view, his eyes distinctly locked on his companion at the table, his smile so earnest and eager and brimming.

And it's all there, everything. Every last unutterable thing.

Damn. When did he get so transparent?

Since Kate is at his back, she can't see him close his eyes, try to keep breathing evenly, despair falling down his throat and burning its way through his chest.

Because no one looking at this photo isn't going to know.

The whole tragic story. How he loves her so pathetically much.

How he can't have her.

So if she missed it the first time, now she definitely knows.

And the night is over.