I know it's true
Time doesn't stand still
Many things can change
But we know some things never will.
The memories we share
The songs we always sing
The mystery of life
The hopefulness this season brings
And I have a dream or two
And maybe they will come true
~Beverly Darnall, Chris Eaton, & Amy Grant, A Christmas To Remember
Kate finished lacing up her rented skates, a secret smile playing at her lips. These were plain old (rather dingy) white skates – not the neon ones she'd spied high up on the shelf behind the equipment kiosk's counter. In a moment's idiocy she'd almost asked for that particular pair for memory's sake; then she'd caught a glimpse of Rick out of the corner of her eye. He had been dodging Alexis' fist, holding her skates overhead until she did something crazy that he'd requested. A bubble of laughter had caught in Kate's throat at his boyish-yet-fatherly actions, and she'd turned immediately back to the skate attendant and taken the normal pair of skates that was waiting for her.
It's time for new memories, she told herself with a final yank of the laces. As if on cue, a familiar gloved hand appeared in her line of sight, and she allowed herself to reveal the smile she was feeling as she tucked her own hand into his. He helped her stand to her feet on the single blade skates and hovered closer to her side than was really necessary as they waddled to the rink's entrance.
"Now, if you aren't used to the ice, the first step can be a doozy," he instructed her, his velvet voice warming her from the inside out. "So… you know … feel free to hold onto me until you get your bearings."
She hoped her instant grin didn't give her away. "Yeah. Uh. I've only skated a few times – and I'm not very good at it," she lied. "I usually just hug the wall."
"I think I'm a much better alternative than a wall," Castle countered, the dimple deepening in his cheek. The double meaning was not lost on either of them. "I'm warm – and cuddly."
Alexis and Martha appeared just then in a flurry of coats, mittens, red hair, and scarves. "Are you ready?" his daughter asked breathlessly, her porcelain complexion already rosy in the brisk winter wind.
"With bells on," Castle replied, raising his arm to brandish a jingle bell he had heretofore kept hidden in his jacket.
All three women rolled their eyes in unison, and all three sported identical grins of fond tolerance. "You wanna skate with me, Kate?" Alexis turned to the detective, ignoring her father with the expertise of a teenager on the verge of young adulthood.
Kate opened her mouth to answer, but Rick cut her off before she could speak. "Maybe later, pumpkin," he negated the request. "Once Kate gets used to the ice. She's not as used to the whole ice skating thing as we are." Putting his arm around Kate's shoulder with a chummy jostle, he added, "She's going to stick close to me to get her footing."
Alexis glanced at Kate with a look of bemused confusion. "But – "
"Ah – Alexis – your dad made me an offer I couldn't refuse," Kate hastened to explain, knowing full well that the redhead was remembering the conversations they'd once had about the ice skating lessons Kate took as a preteen. "I told him I usually just hug the wall."
"So she's going to hug me instead." The instant the words left his mouth, they registered with him, and he sputtered inanely in a feeble attempt to recover. "Errr… uh… I mean."
"We all know what you mean, darling," Martha interjected, raising her eyebrows eloquently. She linked her arms with her granddaughter and put a foot over the ledge of the rink entrance. "Come on, kiddo. Let's show these two how it's done."
"An offer you couldn't refuse, huh?" Alexis repeated to Kate with a delighted twinkle in her eyes that sent a thrill to the detective's heart. The author's daughter let her gaze drift over Kate's face, and she nodded as though the wisdom of the world filled her young mind. She smiled and let her grandmother lead her onto the ice, chancing one last glance back at her dad and his partner with a wink directed intentionally at the latter.
"Have fun!" she called over her shoulder before yelping in amused distress at Martha's antics. "Grams…"
As their laughing voices drifted out of earshot, Kate turned to Castle and loosely grasped his hand. "You ready to replace that wall?"
A muscle twitched in his jaw, a light flickered behind his eyes, and a slow smile spread over his face. "You have no idea."
Leaving her breathless with his words, he took advantage of her flummoxed state to tug her onto the ice and maintained a reassuring grip on her hand with his left, holding it low against his chest, even as his right arm snaked around her waist (to give him more control… or something like that). She wobbled once – for effect – and smiled to herself as his grip tightened. They took a couple of turns around the rink like that – she feigning inexperience, he offering helpful tips and a guiding arm. His body nudged and retreated in turn, keeping her in pace with the rhythm he had set, evoking unbidden images in Kate's mind of another setting in which bodies and rhythms could be in play. Every sense was heightened and attuned to his slightest movements, to his scent, to his low murmurs that grew goose bumps on her flesh. Her momentary regret at misleading him had vanished about halfway through their first trip around the ice – lost somewhere in the romantic haze that had enveloped her. She had no right to be this happy, she reasoned, but she was. And she was going to enjoy it.
For his part, Castle had never been more aroused – without actually being physically so. The scent of something Christmasy filled his nostrils as the wind lifted her hair to his nose. Was she one of those women who changed from her normal fragrance to the limited-edition holiday products from a bath and body store during the Christmas season? He added this to the growing list of answers he wanted to discover about Detective Kate Beckett and breathed deeply, committing this moment to his memory. Her arm at his chest sent sparks of heat through his body, the gentle ebb and flow of her hip against his sending his mind to places distinctly adult in nature. He let his hand drift a little lower on her waist and squeezed despite his best efforts to thwart the reflex.
The tightening of her eyes and the gentle line of her lips told him she'd noticed – and she didn't look displeased. In fact, if the pink dusting on her cheeks was any indication, she had enjoyed the brief caress. Sliding them to an easy stop, he angled his ankles to twirl the skates in her direction, now facing her and reaching up with a hand to brush the wayward strands of hair from her cheek. He parted his lips to speak, she parted hers to suck in a trembling breath.
"Kate…"
The harsh ring of her phone shattered the comfortable aura the two had created, and she groaned aloud, using her teeth to remove her glove from one hand so she could fish the culprit out of her pocket. Her eyes flashed a silent apology of regret when she saw the caller ID, and her voice was taut with an underlying frustration as she answered. "Beckett." She listened for a moment, her gaze narrowing as Esposito relayed the reason for the call, and her grip on the phone tightened until her knuckles turned white from the effort. "We'll be there in 20."
Returning the phone to her pocket, she brushed her hand through her hair and raised her eyes to Castle's questioning gaze. "They found the baby."
His eyebrows shot up, and he immediately craned his neck to search out Alexis and Martha amid the throng of holiday skaters. Spying them on the opposite side of the rink, he pulled out his own phone to send them a text. "Come on," he spoke in Kate's direction, his eyes still on the message he was composing. "I'll help you back to the exit and we can –"
She was gone.
Dumbfounded, he looked around until he saw her – skating toward the entrance/exit with the ease and skill of someone who had clearly been on the ice more than a couple of times. His heart leapt, and a silly grin took over his lips. She had lied. On purpose. To be in his arms. And that bit about the wall – suddenly took on a depth that he hadn't dared to hope for. He allowed himself a victorious spin and a (not-so) discreet fist pump.
"Merry Christmas," he whispered to himself, shoving off with his skates to catch up with the woman he loved.
It was time to raid his stash of mistletoe. Yes. Indeed.
