15 March, 2014
xxx
"You don't have to move, you don't have to speak
Lips for biting
You're staring me down, a glance makes me weak
Eyes for striking
Now I'm twisting up when I'm twisted with you
Brush so lightly
And time trickles down and I'm breathing for two
Squeeze so tightly
I'll be fine, you'll be fine
This moment seems so long
Don't waste now, precious time
We'll dance inside the song"
xxx
The ballroom is huge enough to contain a hundred people but they're the only ones there. A band is playing in one corner, akin to one she's seen in war films from the 1940s at royalty balls or embassy parties. They're playing a mellow fox-trot and she tries to recollect the steps that she learnt as a little girl. The melody has got him tapping his feet. He looks to his muse who's still finding her way in the posh atmosphere, placing every step with caution. She treads a fleeting path on the polished surface, sighting the light from the candelabra, a few chairs bunched together to form a group, the tiny plates of cheese-cherry-pineapple on a single side table. She picks up a toothpick and pops a cherry into her mouth, relishing its tang, then the salt of the cheese and the sharp acidity of the pineapple. She finally turns around to look at Castle. "How are we the only ones here? This place is fabulous!"
"It's still kind of early and I paid the guy at the reception a couple of extra bucks to give us some alone time."
He wants her to feel uninhibited, relinquish control for once which is why he planned it this way. Her pursed lips are dissuading but the fascination in her eyes irons the wrinkles of his doubts. He decides to take a leap of faith because he can't, for the life of him, figure out Why Not! "Care to join me?" He holds out his hand invitingly.
As if sensing their mood, the band decides, at that very moment, to whip up an upbeat tango. She takes it as her cue. She beams up at him and raises an eyebrow. "You sure you're up for it, old man?" She grabs his hand and guides him away from the appetizers. He's dumbfounded yet again because the tables have just been flipped on him. She's challenging him. She's teasing him. Richard Castle has never been one to back out of a good contest. How hard can it be? Sure, he hasn't danced in a really long time, especially not a tango but when he did regularly attend fundraisers the ladies swooned over his dance moves, didn't they? He'll be just fine. Easy-peasy.
They both know a challenge when they see one. Tangoes do really bring out the worst of her competitive spirit. She knows she can take him but she's also aware he won't back down without a fight. But the tango is her forte. And aggression is the key.
His hand encircles her waist in a sudden burst of vigor. She winces. He thinks he's made a rash move in a nervous game. She knows better. He entangles his fingers with hers, the even pressure laced with apology. She shrugs it off, lets him off the hook. There's plenty of time to explain later.
xxx
"Gotta have this feeling forever
Gotta live this moment together
Nothing else matters
Just you and the night
Follow on the wings of desire
Now the rhythm is taking you higher
No one can stop us from havin' it all"
xxx
It doesn't take him long to realize he'll never win this one. She's too good. He makes a mental note to ask her where she learned to dance like that, for later. He maneuvers her steadily while somehow managing to not trip her up. She's light as a feather as she dances circles around him, leading him to the punishing pace of the tango. She swirls in precision, a regal dash of purple against the backdrop of the cream yellow walls. This is her game; he's just trying to keep up. She's passion, sensuality and youthful curves; just that extra sway in her hips with smoky, beckoning eyes, like the seductress she is. He's all but through his reserve when the tango finally ends and a calmer waltz begins. Kate-1, Rick-0.
He thanks his stars because he doesn't know how much longer he would have survived without running out of breath. He has no idea how she is so composed and relaxed like she's just arrived while he is puffing. Is he panting? Jeez. 'Butch up Rick!' he tells himself. It's his chance now. The waltz is so beautiful; he's surprised he's never heard this tune before. He's regained his footing and some sense of stable breathing too. They waltz across the floor in choreographed cadence. It's time to bust out his A-game. The only way he's winning this is if he can distract her. Be your charming self. His hands move a miniscule inch below the small of her back; he pulls her in just a little bit closer so he can whisper in her ear. "I'm so glad we aren't undercover right now." This is his offensive, one she rarely has a defense for- sincerity and smooth talk. He plants a kiss on her jawline. If his plan is working she doesn't let on.
Oh this is a familiar battleground. Two can play at this game. They use the strategies they've perfected over all their years together- the coy glances, the tortuous flirting, the suggestion, the eye-sparks, sincerity masked by clever retorts. "I know! I'm glad I don't have a gun stuffed up places a gun should never ever see. You have no idea how many dresses my gun has stretched out." He gulps because she's implying she's done this more times than he knows about.
"I'm just glad you don't have to leave me and go cuff someone, although it would be hot." The glance that she throws him is one he knows well, oh so well. He's won her over. Hit and Sink. She giggles and whips up a sharp reply before his fantasies kick off.
And so back and forth they go, a classic plot of one-upsmanship, dance after dance until their limbs are tired and weary. Their smooth rhythm is broken, suddenly, as the lights on their mental scoreboards flicker off. He takes an unfortunate misstep further than he's supposed to; she retaliates in haste and steps on the sweeping fabric of her dress and she stumbles backwards. He catches her just in time but she uses the other heel to regain her footing and it flails in the air before landing bang on Castle's toe. "OWW!" he yells. His cry is heard over the music and the band unceremoniously stops playing. Beckett seats him down on a chair. "Oh My God, Castle. I'm so sorry." He clutches his toe in pain and squeezes his eyes shut tight. She's patient and worried at the same time. "Are you ok?" He makes a considerable effort of will to smile back her. "Nah. Thank God I bought these shoes from London. Or Kate, I would've surely had a hole right through my teeny toes." She's relieved. He's joking. That's a good sign. Absolutely nothing was about to ruin their night. "Castle! Let's go eat. I'm ravenous. If the food doesn't show up soon I'll be eating the flowers on one of these tables here."
He nods his approval; she helps him back up on his feet and he limps slightly, relieved but sad that the dancing is over. It wasn't often one got the chance to waltz with Kate Beckett. They push open the gigantic doors once again and Kate sneaks a last look at the ballroom before the usher hurries them on to the next surprise he has planned for her.
xxx