Here's to Us – Halestorm
Here's to us
.
"Just one more," Castle pleads.
She bites down on her lip. She's not drunk, not even tipsy, but she's got a buzz, a hum coursing through her body. She's free, calm, carefree and this late at night, after the few days they've had, running across the city chasing suspects and leads that don't make sense, don't fit together and complete the puzzle until… they do, she should not be having another.
But she's nodding agreeing. Because sitting here with him, squashed into the side of the booth, long after the others called it a night, with Ryan hurrying home to Jenny and Lanie and Esposito leaving suspiciously close together, is too good to pass up. When Lanie moved from beside her she didn't bother to move over, why would she?
She still can't shake the chill off her skin, the ice from her bones. She'd still be shivering if it weren't for the tumbler of scotch in her hands, the sharp burn filling her with a warmth, a fire like no other. Well that's not true. The prickle dancing across her skin each time his elbow brushes hers or their knees bump.
The waitress sets the fresh glasses on the table and he reaches across her as she leans back, knocking back the last mouthful of the last glass. She hands the woman the empty glass with a smile and the waitress tosses her a knowing look, raising an eyebrow. Then Kate realises why, as she settles back into her position she finds her shoulder in his armpit, shivers at the heat and only pulls back slightly, can still feel his thumb pressed into her shoulder.
He's got his glass poised between them, waiting for her, like he-
He wants to toast.
Oh.
She grabs the glass and raises it a little, pausing, keeping a distance as she forces it steady. Okay, maybe she's a little tipsy. But she's not drunk, she's a long way off.
"Here's to us," he whispers to her, leaning over her much further than necessary as he softly touches the tip of his glass to hers.
She shakes her head, chews her lip. Too easy. "Here's to love," she murmurs as she presses the glass to her mouth, muffling her words from his ears.
"All the times that we messed up."
She blinks, heavily. Right, tipsy. No self control, no sensor and apparently no volume control. But he doesn't seem to mind, he's tipped his head toward her, waiting for her to continue. "Here's to you," she offers quietly. This time it is quiet, she's conscious of that. She needs to thank him for… everything. But here, drinking in his bar, quoting words from a song, is not the way to do it, not the place to do it.
"Fill the glass."
Oh God, now he's singing. A dry timbre that makes her shiver. Why not, she can hold a tune. "Cause the last few days have gone too fast."
"So let's give them hell, wish everybody well." He joins her, smile so wide she doesn't regret it. She doesn't regret the hushed whispers as she continues the chorus with him, closes it off. "Here's to us."
She nods at him then flicks her eyes away, lifting her drink to her mouth, needing another gulp, some more Dutch courage, before she faces where he's going to take this conversation. She's sure it will be a compliment, a suggestion or innuendo. How could it not be? Mouths loose enough to sing are mouths loose enough for too-much sharing.
Among other things.
"We stuck-"
"Castle," she bites. "No more."
She watches his face drop as he leans in close. "What you don't like my singing?"
It's not that she doesn't. It's that the moments passed and the couple at the table in front of them have turned to look. She waves to the nosey pair and watches Castle realise, come out of his bubble, their bubble.
He bites his lip and turns his attention back to his glass, moment passed.
She leans against his side, finding another moment, creating it.