Chapter 5: Party Boy

Beckett couldn't help but stare at her reflection in the mirror, gaping in wonder at the stranger staring back at her. The new dress hugged the curves of her body perfectly, and the open back allowed the chilly night air to caress her skin, sending goosebumps down her arms. Her hair was carefully styled so that the gentle curls skimmed the tops of her shoulders and framed her face. Her cheeks were a healthy shade of pink, but that had nothing to do with the fact that she was wearing more makeup than usual. Something about this dress made her feel powerful, in a way that her high heels and gun never had, and in the artificial light of the bathroom, her eyes sparkled as she wondered what Castle would think when he saw her cross the door to the bedroom. Would he see Beckett, the tough-as-nails detective, or Kate, the ordinary girl behind the badge? That thought made her cheeks turn an even deeper shade of pink, so she tried to push it from her mind, taking a deep breath and turning towards the door.

When she entered the bedroom, she spotted Castle next to the window, apparently lost in thought as he stared outside. After their fight the night before and their tentative conversation when she had returned from her shopping trip with the Coven, both of them had been unusually shy around the other, as if they had reached a delicate balance and they didn't want to fall to either side. But, considering their history and the nature of their relationship, Beckett was sure they would stumble in one direction sooner rather than later. The only question was if they would be able to find their equilibrium again afterwards or they would crash definitely.

All of her musings and worries left her mind the moment Castle caught sight of her reflection in the window. He turned around slowly, his mouth dropping open almost comically, and his eyes widened for a second before he could react. His gaze roamed over every inch of Beckett's black dress, and more importantly, to the parts of her body not covered by it.

Normally, she'd say something to him when he looked at her that way, but tonight, she chose not to comment. For once, she was happy to let him have this moment. After all, getting a reaction from him had been her goal when she chose this particular dress. When Castle's eyes returned to her face and found her knowing smile, he snapped out of his daze and cleared his throat, attempting to compose himself.

"Shall we?" he said, his voice slightly higher-pitched than usual as he gestured for her to exit the room ahead of him.

A faint trace of his cologne wafted through the air as he followed her down the hallway. The rich smell triggered a flood of unwelcome thoughts about exactly how attractive Castle was in his tuxedo, the sleeves of the jacket hugging his arms just tightly enough to show off his biceps…

She snapped out of her reverie when she nearly tripped at the top of the stairs. Chastising herself for her teenage ways as she steadied herself, she offered him a smile and led the way down to the first floor.

Once they reached the foyer, she felt the lightest of touches against the back of her hand, and she tried unsuccessfully to suppress her smile. The next time that Castle's hand brushed against hers, she allowed the contact to linger enough to link her pinkie finger with his. That move seemed to boost his confidence, because he disentangled their fingers to take her whole hand in his instead. Beckett's smile was impossible to hide at this point, and she found that she didn't want to conceal it. So she turned to Castle, who was sporting a matching grin, and opened her mouth to say something, anything.

Of course, that was the moment Patricia chose to appear in front of them. Like a shark drawn by the scent of blood, Patricia seemed to sense their impending moments of intimacy and plan her strike just so that it interrupted them.

"Well, well, well, don't you look dazzling?" she greeted. Patricia was wearing a long, sparkling green dress. On its own, it was beautiful, but the fact the woman had paired it with bright red heels made Beckett want to cringe.

"Rick, darling, don't you think she looks beautiful?"

That was the last thing Beckett needed; Patricia fishing for compliments for her. And from Castle, no less. When was the weekend going to end?

"She looks positively radiant, indeed. She steals my breath away every time I look at her," Castle answered. His tone was matter-of-fact, as if he had no problem making that confession, and judging by the look in his eyes, he meant every word he'd said. Beckett's cheeks flushed, and her hand twitched in his grip, but he didn't let go, squeezing it reassuringly instead.

"Of course, of course," Patricia said, seemingly bored with the conversation already, as she looked around the room, presumably in search of her next victim. "The party is in the backyard. You know the way, right?"

"We do. Thank you," Beckett responded, tugging at Castle's hand in an attempt to get away as soon as possible. She had already had enough of Patricia for the day.

As they stepped through the patio doors and into the backyard, they were faced with what looked like hundreds of people milling about, making the previous night's dinner seem like an intimate event. There were dozens of high tables scattered around the space, and waiters were making the rounds, providing everyone with appetizers the size of a baby's thumb. Why did rich people always feel the need to serve the tiniest portions of food?

The increase of people in attendance meant that Castle knew even more people than the previous night. Beckett was hoping that they'd be able to go straight to their seats at the table without speaking to anyone, but it seemed that they couldn't even make it five feet without stopping to greet one of Castle's acquaintances. She prepared herself for the worst each time one of the guests stopped next to them, interested in engaging in a conversation.

The old man at their side now looked as though he'd be the worst of the lot, judging by the way he was fixating on Beckett- on her body, rather- with a creepy stare as he spoke. Clearly, Castle wasn't the only one who thought the dress looked good on her.

"Wow, Ricky, you certainly have an impeccable taste in women. Who do we have here?" the older man said, keeping his eyes fixed on Beckett.

"Carter, how are you?," Castle greeted, seemingly unfazed by the way the man was staring at her. "Allow me to introduce you to Detective Kate Beckett, my inspiration."

After a brief conversation, they left the man behind, and she raised her brow at Castle in silent question.

"What?" he asked. "I didn't say muse."

She could only smile at him.

The rest of the night progressed in the same way, with introduction after introduction to people Beckett would certainly never remember the names of. Unlike the night before, he didn't present her as his girlfriend, but rather as his partner and inspiration, infinitely more reverently than she could've had imagined.

Their physical contact throughout the night was tentative and not at all smothering. Every graze of their skin sent sparks through Beckett's limbs, and the goosebumps ended up being a constant feature in her arms. After dessert, Castle noticed and gallantly offered his jacket, which she accepted.

Around them, the other guests were raising from their seats and heading towards the open bar, where several members of the Coven were standing and scanning the crowd, looking for victims. She didn't feel like joining them- she and Castle were having such a great night, and she didn't want other people to ruin it. And after her conversation with the Vixens that afternoon, she needed to spend some time with Castle, to remind herself that he wasn't part of that world; that he was as much as an outsider as she was.

"Castle…" she started, feeling the nerves taking residence in her stomach. She had to swallow to finish the sentence, her throat dry all of a sudden. "Would you… ah… Do you want to see the beach? I mean, take a walk? With me?"

What's wrong with me? she thought. It was like she was a middle school girl with her first crush all over again. She felt like a babbling idiot. She wanted to hide in her- their- bedroom and never come out again, at least not until it was time to leave this horrible place. His response prevented her from running, though.

"I would love to."

As soon as they reached the shore, they got rid of their shoes, deciding to carry them in their hands while they strode aimlessly down the beach. It was a peaceful night; the crashing waves the only sound discernible in their vicinity. But something was nagging at Castle.

"Hey, Beckett, can I ask you a question?" he ventured.

She chuckled. "Since when do you ask for permission?"

"Good point," he conceded. "So… you and Patricia?"

"Yes, Castle?" she asked in that tone she always used to pretend she was reprimanding him.

"What's your story? How did you two meet?"

To his surprise, she laughed at him. "It took you long enough to ask."

He was liking this carefree version of Beckett, so different than the hard-willed detective he saw every day at the precinct. So instead of pressing her, he just shrugged, waiting patiently for once.

Beckett continued walking, staring in contemplation at her toes as they dug in the sand with every step. After a few moments, she spoke, her voice so low that he could hardly hear her over the sound of the ocean.

"We met in Stanford," she started. "We both were pre-law students. I wanted to be just like my parents, and Trish just wanted hers to be happy."

Already enthralled with her tale, he nodded, encouraging her to continue.

"We were roommates, and we didn't get along very well. I guess we were too different. I was still a rebel teenager only interested in defying the rules, and Trish was the good girl. It didn't help matters that she was intent on calling me Katie. No one but my dad has called me Katie since I hit seventh grade," she recalled with a soft smile, turning her eyes in his direction. "Don't even think about calling me that, by the way."

He brought a hand to his chest in mock outrage. "Oh, Katherine, I'd never." She gave him a soft laugh in return.

"Anyway," she returned to her story. "I was very popular among the young men, and I had a couple of boyfriends that would have prevented my dad from sleeping ever again, had he met them."

The thought of Kate Beckett with "bad boy" boyfriends was so unimaginable that he missed a step and tumbled forward.

"You okay, Castle?" Her teasing tone did nothing to calm his racing heart.

"Yeah. Sorry. You were saying?"

"I was very popular, but Trish wasn't. She was the poor girl everybody made fun of. She dated a guy who treated her like crap. Trish fell head over heels for him, and he returned the sentiment by sleeping with just about every girl on campus. I knew he was doing it, but Trish refused to believe me. She only wanted to think the best of him. One night, I saw him with another girl, and I put an end to it."

"How?" Castle asked, a thousand scenarios crossing his mind. Beckett only gave him an enigmatic smile in return.

"After that," she continued, "my relationship with Trish improved, until the point we became joined at the hip. She even visited me in New York that Christmas…"

She trailed off, the smile disappearing from her face as she came to a halt. Castle was almost afraid to ask her about it, but luckily, she saved him the trouble, her voice almost a whisper.

"All that ended in January. After my mother… died, I abandoned Stanford without looking back. I returned to the city and turned my back on the rest of the world. I didn't have any friends left from high school, and I ignored the ones from college."

"You never saw each other again?" he asked, lowering his voice to match hers. She jumped visibly at his words, almost as though she'd forgotten he was with her.

"No. Not until this week. She tried to contact me, but I wouldn't allow it."

"Why?"

"The Katie Beckett that Trish knew died alongside her mother, and I didn't like the person who replaced her."

The pull to gather her in his arms was almost unbearable, but somehow Castle managed to stay still. If there was one thing he knew about Kate Beckett, it was that she needed space. The fact that she was trusting him enough to tell him this much was incredible on its own.

"When I saw her the other day, with her triumphant air and the perfect life, it made me think of the life I could have had. It's not like I would have liked to be rich like her, but I didn't enjoy the way she, someone who once was my equal, rubbed what I could have had, but never will, in my face."

So that's why she'd been so resistant when Patricia made her offer to join the party for the weekend. Everything made sense now. She felt inadequate in comparison with her old friend. Couldn't she see that she was ten times better than the other woman? Every single person who had ever met Kate Beckett had fallen at her feet, including Castle. He saw it every day, in the way her coworkers pushed themselves harder just to try to reach her level, or in the fierness of Ryan and Esposito's brotherly love. The impact Kate Beckett had on other people's lives was beyond any influence money could provide. She was a source of inspiration for everyone in her life. She was extraordinary.

After a few moments of silence, he dared to speak, in a voice barely above a whisper.

"She's not better than you, you know? None of them are," he said, signaling with his head to the mansion behind them.

Beckett just looked at him dumbfounded, as if he was speaking a different language. She had never been good at accepting compliments, so he pressed on.

"And you could have it."

"What?" she asked, a look of confusion in her eyes.

"All of that. You are a great woman, a hard worker, a… a force of nature! And I believe you could achieve anything you set your mind on. The dream life. The house in the Hamptons." He paused, then decided to take the plunge. "The millionaire boyfriend."

When their eyes locked, the air around them suddenly felt charged with electricity. Castle didn't dare to move; he didn't want to risk losing the moment, but he didn't miss the tiny step she took in his direction.

His eyes dropped to her lips, his hands twitching on his sides, longing to touch her, to hold her. Her hands raised an inch...

And then an explosion resounded across the beach, followed by a flash of blinding light.

Of course they have fireworks, Castle thought bitterly, cursing internally.

They turned in tandem to see the blasts coming from a boat out in the sea, and he took the step he didn't have the courage to earlier, crowding her back and resting a hand on her hip as a way to test the waters. To his utter surprise, Beckett leaned back against his shoulder in response. He took that as a positive sign and banded his arm around her waist.

The added motion seemed to take her by surprise, and she was still, almost rigid. For a moment, Castle thought that she was going to take off, and he began to silently panic, afraid that he'd overstepped his boundaries. But instead of making him take a step back, she relaxed and rested her head on his shoulder. Castle wrapped his free arm around her waist, completing the embrace, and they stayed like that for a long time, watching the explosions of color that matched the fluttering of his heart.

And in that moment, Castle wondered how he could have been so blind not to see that he was definitely in love with Kate Beckett.

It had been forever since he last time Beckett had felt so comfortable, so safe and cared for. If someone had told her even three months ago that the person responsible for that feeling would be Rick Castle, she would have scoffed and added one of her signature eye-rolls for good measure.

But in that moment, watching the last sparkles of the fireworks in the refuge of Castle's arms, enveloped by his warmth and scent, she couldn't find it in herself to step away. Even after the last echoes of the explosions faded in the distance and they were surrounded by silence and darkness once again, she stayed still, leaning into his chest.

After a few seconds, it was Castle the one to make the first move to put some distance between the two of them. He cleared his throat and took a step back,dropping his arms from around her waist and letting them rest against his sides. The look on his face was almost sheepish, like he expected her to scold him for his behavior.

That was the furthest thing from her mind, though.

"Want to go back to the party?" she asked, fighting a laugh as she watched Castle's face visibly relax.

"If we must," he answered rolling his eyes in a dramatic manner.

She couldn't fight the laugh this time, allowing herself to giggle at his antics. After a moment, she shrugged off his jacket, extending the garment back to him.

"Thank you," she said, dropping her head so that her hair would hide her reddening cheeks.

"Don't you need it anymore?"

"No, I'm fine. We're heading inside, anyway. And you must be freezing," she reasoned.

"If you're sure," he muttered, taking the jacket from her and putting it back on.

Beckett couldn't help but admire his broad chest and the flex of his muscles at the simple movement, and she felt her cheeks flame even more when she looked up and found him watching her, his piercing blue eyes twinkling in mirth.

Shockingly, he didn't comment on it, instead offering her his arm to guide her back to the party. Relieved, she slipped her arm through his and scooted closer into his side, relishing the warmth his body exuded in the chilly night air.

As they stepped back into the gathering, Castle pulled away from her, his eyes looking around the open area until he spotted the bar.

"I need a drink," he announced. "Can I get you anything?"

"I'll come with you," Beckett said. She was hesitant to leave his side, especially given the sort of people in the crowd tonight.

But Castle insisted she stay put, declaring he'd fetch both of their drinks so that she could take a seat and wait. Before parting to fetch them their beverages, he gave Beckett's hand a little squeeze.

"I'll be right back."

She stood there, smiling softly to herself as she watched him make his way to the open bar, her hand tingling and senses still overwhelmed after their walk down the beach. Beckett wasn't prone to introspection, as she made her way to a nearby seat to wait for Castle's return, she found herself reflecting on her life choices.

The last time Beckett had opened up her heart to someone, he had moved to Boston and left her behind. She had lost enough people already, and she wasn't willing to allow herself to go through something like that again. The next time she chose someone, she would make sure he was loyal and trustworthy. It was either that, or keeping one foot out the door at all times, to prevent herself from getting too attached to someone who was just going to leave. Those were the only two options.

That's why Castle was a risky candidate. Beckett was beginning to realize that she had some sort of… feelings for him. Oh, who was she trying to fool? She'd had a crush on Castle since the day they met, and within the past several months, those feelings had begun to turn into something very close to a four-letter word that Beckett had banished from her vocabulary long ago. She had never met anyone with whom it was so fun to argue, or who made her work feel like an adventure instead of a chore, and who was so different yet so similar to her at the same time.

And the last couple of days had shown her that maybe he felt something for her as well. But Beckett knew that, if she opened the door for a relationship with him, it would never just be casual. She would fall for him, hard, and he would just leave her as soon as a better opportunity arose- that opportunity being an offer to write a certain British spy, for example. She didn't want to risk it, but still, her mind wouldn't stop conjuring images of how her life would look if she allowed Castle to be a part of it.

The weekend at the Hamptons was playing tricks with her mind, expanding her imagination to the possibilities. For instance, how would this party be if they really had attended as a couple, rather than just pretending to be romantically involved? Would they focus their efforts on making fun of Patricia and the rest, or would they spend more time trying to get to each other's nerves? Would Alexis be with them? What would she feel if Castle introduced her to his friends as his girlfriend, for real? If the butterflies in her stomach served as any indication, that last scenario held an unmistakable appeal to her.

But, how long would it last? Castle was notorious for his flings. Walking into the precinct a few months ago to find him with two models posing as cops, thoroughly enjoying himself as they hung all over him for a photoshoot, was proof enough of that. New images started to fill her mind, unbidden, and so powerful that they erased the previous happy thoughts. Beckett sitting alone in her apartment, crying over a newspaper picture sporting Castle and a supermodel as arm candy. Not being able to go to her favorite bookstore out of fear of catching a glimpse of his name on one of the shelves. Ryan, Esposito and Lanie's pitiful looks…

The risks were too many, but still...

"There you are, Detective!"

Beckett turned around when she heard the voice calling out for her, and she cursed her reflexes when she spotted one of the Vixens approaching. Unfortunately, it was too late to pretend she hadn't seen her. She nodded her head politely and looked away, figuring that, if she ignored the woman, she would continue slithering through the party. Beckett's eyes inevitably landed on Castle, as if they were drawn by a magnet. He was next to the bar, waiting for their drinks, when a man patted his back in greeting.

"Oh, yes," the Vixen trilled, reclaiming her attention. "It was a matter of time before he hit the open bar."

Beckett ignored her attempts at engaging her in a conversation, still focused on Castle at the bar. The man was talking to him now, and Castle was listening, a polite smile on his face.

"These parties are Ricky's favorite. Actually, we met in one of them. He was single at the time, of course. Not that it has ever mattered to him, anyway," the Vixen continued. Beckett could only roll her eyes. "I know you don't know him enough, darling, but let me tell you, it's a matter of time."

Much to her chagrin, Beckett took the bait.

"A matter of time before what?" she asked, turning to fix the woman with a look of annoyance.

"Before Ricky the Party Boy makes his appearance."

Beckett snorted in response.

"You don't believe me? Just you wait and see. Back in the day, a party was not complete until Ricky pulled one of his stunts."

"I find that hard to believe." Beckett didn't know why she felt the sudden need to defend him, but she was doing so anyway, fighting about his character with a woman who had known him much longer than she had.

"Why? Because you've domesticated him?"

"No. Because I know him," she shot back, "and despite what all of you may think, he's not like any of you."

"Oh, but he is," the woman chuckled. "Believe me. I've known him for years, way longer than you have. I won't deny he's more calmed now, but this kind of event tends to get out of hand when Ricky is around. Luckily, the press tonight is more focused on poor Patricia and the notable absence of her fiancé."

"Look, whatever-your-name-is," Beckett spat, beginning to see red. "I know Castle. He's always getting into trouble, I won't deny that, but he would never draw attention to himself by putting on a show during someone else's engagement party."

A loud clatter resounded in the space, drowning out the end of her little speech. Beckett immediately turned, her eyes roaming wildly around the open space in search of the source of the commotion. To her dismay, she spotted Castle standing at the bar, hands fisted at his sides, while the man he had been talking to wobbled, grabbing the bar for support with one hand and his cheek with the other. On the floor next to them laid a tray and several broken champagne flutes, that must have fallen off of the countertop during the dispute.

After a second, Castle snapped out of his reverie, looking around, almost startled to see the rest of the guests staring at him. When his eyes found Beckett's, the anger was prominent in his irises, but she could also see regret and… was that sadness? A moment later, shame took over his expression. He started in her direction, but before he could take another step, the Vixen whispered in Beckett's ear.

"See? I know Ricky better than you do. After all, he's one of us."

Beckett didn't say a word in response. She just turned on her heels and left the party, dodging judgemental whispers and pointed looks on her way out.