I'm not the kind of man who tends to socialize
I seem to lean on old familiar ways
And I ain't no fool for love songs that whisper in my ears
Still crazy after all these years
-Paul Simon

Backstage, the stage manager gave Castle a smile and a pat on the shoulder as she moved past him, muttering into her headset. Brett and Vincent shook Castle's hand, and Chloe smiled brilliantly at him and stretched way up on her tiptoes to kiss his cheek.

"Thank you so much. You were great," he told them all sincerely, and they smiled and returned the sentiment. He could see that they were feeling the same giddy good cheer that he was: the post-performance high. It was a familiar feeling, one that had gotten him into a lot of trouble in the past, and, he supposed, probably would do so again.

Then the chorus was coming off the stage, filing out in two orderly rows, also riding that high; many of them wanted to stop and say a word of praise to Castle as they passed. He itched to go and look for Beckett, but forced himself to stay put in his spot by the stage door, smiling and nodding at each of the singers in turn. He pressed their hands and air-kissed their cheeks and said "thank you" and "you sounded wonderful" and "one down, two to go!" again and again, until finally the flood slowed to a trickle.

Out in the performance hall he could hear the buzz of the audience's voices as they gathered their coats and made their way to the exits. Onstage, the orchestra had waited patiently for the chorus to go off, and now were gathering their instruments.

At last Castle caught sight of Beckett, making her way across the backstage area, surrounded by a small crowd of players and singers. Her cheeks were still pink, her lower lip was clamped tightly between her teeth, and her expression was carefully blank, though her eyes were dancing. She was nodding and saying "Yes" and "Thank you" in response to whatever the others were gushing at her.

She looked up and caught Castle's eye, and he couldn't help the grin that burst forth. Feeling like a bumbling idiot, he reached out his hand. His breath almost stopped in his throat when she gave him a bright smile back and took his hand, leaning up to brush her lips across his cheek.

"You were amazing," he murmured, "incredible," and she flushed even more pink and let go of his hand, stepping back.

"Thank you," she said softly, and then a little louder, "You did very well too, Maestro. One could almost believe you've done this before."

The others around her tittered, and Castle grinned, but then Kate's face changed. She suddenly looked timid, like a little girl, and he had to whirl around to see what she had spotted behind him.

Standing a few feet away, just beyond the entrance from the hallway, was an older man whose craggy face was both damp and smiling. Castle had only a moment to blink at the other man before Beckett was flying toward him, and they wrapped each other in a tight hug.

"Katie," the man whispered, and with a start Castle realized that this must be her father. They were murmuring in each other's ears, so he turned quickly away, not wanting to intrude on the private moment.

Just then, Alexis came around the corner, all smiles and with a large bouquet of flowers in her hand. "Dad!" she cried, barreling into him. He hugged her back, grinning again.

"Hey, pumpkin! These aren't for me, are they?"

"Of course. Who else?" his daughter replied with a glint in her eye, disengaging from him as Martha joined them. "The concert was great, Dad. Really."

"Yeah?" He beamed. "I'm glad you liked it. It was fun."

"Yes, Richard, I must admit, for this type of music," his mother said, waving a negligent hand in dismissal of several centuries' worth of artistic endeavor, "it was remarkably entertaining."

"Well, don't strain yourself there, mother," he scoffed, leaning down to kiss her cheek.

"Dad," Alexis whispered loudly in his ear, "if you don't want the flowers, you could give them to her."

"Who?" he asked, all feigned innocence, and both women rolled their eyes.

"Richard, really," Martha chided, casting a significant glance toward Beckett, who was still standing with her father, now conversing with a couple of audience members.

"I'm not sure she's the flower type," he evaded, and then, quickly before they could give him another pair of glares, "but I'll ask, okay?"

But just then he saw Beckett excuse herself and detach from the conversation, slipping away toward the stairs that led down to the locker rooms.

As Castle was standing there debating whether to go after her, to his surprise, her father approached him.

"Maestro Castle? Jim Beckett," the man said, holding out his hand. "That was one heck of a concert."

"Oh - uh, thank you," Castle stammered, shaking Jim's hand. "It's a pleasure to meet you, sir."

"Please, call me Jim," Kate's father said, giving him a slow assessing look. Castle remembered Beckett mentioning that her dad was a lawyer; yes, this was certainly a lawyerly look he was getting from the older man. He had to force himself to stand still and not fidget or slouch.

"Jim," he repeated. "And this is my daughter, Alexis, and my mother, Martha."

"Charmed," Martha said, and "Hello" said Alexis as they all exchanged handshakes.

"Katie tells me that you're going out for a bite," Jim went on after the pleasantries were finished. Castle nodded anxiously.

"Uh, well, yes, but I don't mean to take her away from you, if you'd rather, uh-"

"No, no," Jim interrupted, smiling slightly. "I'd be happy to join you all, if your invitation was sincere."

"Of course! Of course it was. We'd love to have you along," Castle declared, trying not to notice four ginger eyebrows rising up. "Uh, why don't we meet in the front lobby? I guess there's some schmoozing to be done first," he added, observing how the corridor was filling up with audience members and musicians alike, all chattering and hugging and exclaiming.

"Yes," Jim Beckett agreed, "you should spend a few minutes saying hello to your adoring fans. Katie will need a moment to finish changing, anyway."

Castle studied the other man and deduced the subtext: Beckett - Kate, that is - had escaped downstairs for a bit of privacy to collect herself before she could face the crowds. Okay, he could buy her some time.

"No problem," he said cheerily. "Mother, let's mingle."

Kate entered the locker room and retrieved her street clothing from her locker, then closed herself up in a changing cubicle and gave a long sigh of relief.

She had enjoyed the concert - really she had, every bit of it - but it had been a bigger strain on her emotional control than she'd realized. It had all come crashing down on her when she hugged her dad and heard him whisper in her ear how proud he was, how well she had done, how beautiful she sounded and looked. The words of praise might be trite, but they had been what she needed in that moment - and they had opened the door to all the feelings she had been carefully holding back.

Just a few tears had leaked out onto Jim's shoulder, though; the urge to cry that she had felt in the middle of the concert was mostly gone. Her heart felt full, and although it was a bittersweet mixture of emotions roiling through her, she hardly felt any of the guilt, shame, or furious longing that usually struck her when she sang.

Dimly she wondered whether she might feel differently after the adrenaline wore off; but there was another concert to get through first, tonight. And before that, the outing with Castle and his family. At that thought, she felt her cheeks heat up yet again as she removed her dress and pulled on her regular clothes. It was probably just as well that her father, and Castle's mother and daughter, would be there to provide a buffer. With the post-concert thrill still running through her veins, who knew what might happen?

Shaking her head, she pressed her palms against her cheeks in a futile attempt to cool them down. She needed to think about something else, quickly.

Like going back upstairs to run the gauntlet: to face the hordes of well-wishers in the hallways above. She knew it was time. She couldn't hide down here forever.

Normally Kate enjoyed making her way through the happy crowd after a concert; everyone was in a good mood, and the exuberance helped to prolong the pleasant buzz of the adrenaline rush. But today was different, of course, because everyone would want to talk about her singing, and she ... didn't.

She found herself thinking once again about her mother. Kate had so many memories of time spent in hallways like these after concerts: impatient, fidgety, wanting nothing more than to escape with just her mom and dad, whether it was to go out for a celebratory cup of hot cocoa or ice-cream cone, or to go home and be together, just the three of them. By the end of a concert day, young Katie had always had enough of other people fawning over her mom, and it always felt like Johanna took far too long to pull herself away. It always seemed that everyone else came first, and Katie's need for her mother's attention came last.

Now, with adult eyes, Kate could see it differently. She could see in her mind's eye how Johanna had felt torn - loving the attention, the adulation, but knowing that her daughter wanted her all to herself. She remembered how Johanna used to wrap her arms around little Katie's shoulders, holding her close while she chatted and laughed with her friends and fans. It was probably her way of trying to have it all, trying to compromise. But young Kate, as a child and then a grouchy teenager, hadn't been able to see it that way. All she saw was that her mother never seemed to want to stop, to slow down, to focus completely on her daughter.

A few more tears escaped as she paused to let these realizations sink in. She wiped them away, gulped, took a few deep breaths, and pushed it all back once again. She would have to think more about all of this, but later, later, when she had time and quiet space to herself.

Stepping out of the stall, she went over to a sink - exchanging friendly nods with the few other women who were using the locker room - and splashed some cold water on her face, then carefully blotted herself dry and checked the mirror. Her eyes were a little red, but she looked okay. Carefully, focusing on her reflection, she straightened her spine, relaxed her shoulders, and unclenched her jaw. She tried a smile and decided it looked genuine enough. She was as ready as she could get.

She stowed her dress and violin in the locker, took out her coat and purse, locked up, and went out into the basement hallway.

As she walked toward the stairs, she passed by the conductor's dressing room just as the door opened. Castle was coming out, his coat over his arm. "Oh," Kate said in surprise. "Castle?"

"Beckett," he said, equally surprised. "Are you-" He paused, looking up and down the hall, and took hold of her arm.

She gave a little yelp of startlement as Castle pulled her into his dressing room and closed the door. She stared at him, and he stared back, for a brief moment.

Then he tugged her up against him and brought his mouth down onto hers.

She gasped and clutched at his shoulders, surprise quickly melting into heat as she found herself responding. The kiss contained all the passion of the music they'd made together and the things they had felt while looking at each other onstage. His hands were like fire on her back, her waist, her hips, making her shudder with desire as his lips and tongue explored her mouth. She pressed herself against him and dug her fingers into the fabric of his tuxedo.

But it could only last for a minute before she pulled herself away, reluctantly. "I think you meant to say 'are you ready to go,' right, Castle?" she prompted breathlessly. He stared at her, panting, his eyes a little wild.

"Yes," he said after a moment, sighing, letting go of her. "Of course, that's what I meant."

"Because your family and mine are waiting for us upstairs," she added pointedly, and Castle grinned a little, ducking his head sheepishly.

"Right. Wouldn't want to keep them waiting." But he peeked at her between his eyelashes, and she sucked in a quick breath as desire surged again. No, she couldn't give in to it, not now. Oh God, she had been right about needing the buffer of their families. The adrenaline was still rushing through her, heady and fierce.

"The concert went well," she forced herself to say, bending to pick up her purse from where she had dropped it on the floor. "Don't you think?"

Castle sighed again and nodded jerkily, accepting the change of subject. "Yeah, it was great. Seemed like a really big audience too. Is there usually that much of a house for a matinee?"

"No," she admitted, blushing anew, digging in her purse. "Not usually."

She came up with a tissue and stepped forward to wipe her lipstick off of Castle's mouth. He captured her hand in both of his, and she shivered.

"Castle, stop that."

"Stop what?" he asked softly, stroking his thumb across the back of her hand. Butterflies twisted in her stomach, hard, but at the same time, the corners of her mouth curved upward.

"I happen to like nice men," she said, pulling her hand away, turning to check the mirror to make sure her makeup and hair weren't too mussed.

She smirked as she saw astonishment spread over the face of Castle's reflection in the mirror. Tossing the tissue into the trash can, she straightened up, turned, and arched an eyebrow at him.

"Ready to go, Castle?"

"Beckett," he spluttered, gaping like a fish. "You - you seriously just Star Wars'd me. You are, like, the perfect woman."

She pursed her lips to contain another smirk, opting for an eyeroll instead. Her self-confidence was back, resurrected somewhere in between the blaze of Castle's kiss and the mischievous pleasure of teasing him. "Let's go," she said, breezing past him, wrapping her hand around the doorknob. But Castle grabbed her elbow as she was opening the door.

"Can I kiss you again later?" he whispered silkily. His hot breath caressed her ear and she shivered again, but she shook him off and strode out the door, casting a look back at him over her shoulder.

"We'll see," she tossed off, and made for the stairs, not bothering to check whether he was following. Of course he was.

Castle's throat was dry as he followed Beckett up the stairs. The smell and taste of her still lingered in his senses, and he was hopelessly distracted by the sway of her hips. He had certainly been right earlier; the excitement at the end of a performance had gotten the best of him again. Not that he felt any regret about kissing Beckett, of course. Quite the opposite.

He heaved another sigh and told himself that it was just as well she had stopped him when she did. Much longer, and the families might have come looking for them, and found them... Well. The families were waiting, and after that there was a whole second concert to get through tonight, so he had better find a way to stay focused.

Ah, and here it was, in the form of Lanie, grabbing Beckett as soon as she emerged from the stairwell, and the two older sopranos, Doris and Judith, wanting to introduce Castle to some friend of theirs. "Meet you up front," he managed to mutter into Beckett's ear just as they were dragged off in opposite directions.

It took Castle a good ten minutes to extract himself from the white-haired sopranos' clutches, and then another chorus member got hold of him, and then another eager concert-goer or three. By the time he finally made his way to the front lobby, he found them all waiting for him - his redheads, and Beckett, and her father.

"Sorry to keep everyone waiting," he said, widening his eyes deliberately. "Quite the lion's den in there, isn't it?" He looked at Beckett. "How'd you get out before me?"

"Sharper claws," she replied coolly, and Alexis snorted appreciatively as they all headed for the exit.

Kate had gotten through the crowd of well-wishers as quickly as she could, smiling and thank-you-ing, but not lingering. So she wasn't surprised when she got to the lobby and found Castle not there yet. She'd caught a glimpse of him in the crowd backstage as she made her way through - he was mingling with abandon, chattering and laughing with everyone. His personality was much better suited to the spotlight than hers, she observed, chewing her lip slowly as the thought and all its implications percolated through her mind.

Her father was off in the corner muttering into his cell phone, and Martha was flirting with the security guard by the door; so Kate leaned against the wall with Alexis, watching the last audience members straggle out in small clumps.

"Does it bother you?" she couldn't help asking, after a moment. The teenager turned her head to look at her.

"What?"

"Waiting around for him," Kate said, gesturing at the rapidly thinning crowd. "Hanging around while he chats up everyone in sight."

Alexis cocked her head thoughtfully. "No," she said after only a short moment of contemplation. "It's just him, the way he is. He just loves people."

"Hmm," Kate murmured, nodding slowly. Alexis was still looking curiously at her. But then Castle appeared in the doorway and it was time to go at last.

In the town car - which Jim Beckett raised his eyebrows at, and Castle had to admit it skirted the limits of what one might have to call a limousine - Alexis sat next to Castle and leaned her cheek on his shoulder, while the Becketts sat opposite, with Martha on Castle's other side.

"We should go to classical concerts more often," Alexis said, tilting her head to look up at him. "They're interesting and different, for us. And you need more culture."

"Alexis," he protested, pretending to be offended.

"You must admit, Richard, there's more elegance in Handel than any of your operas," his mother put in, "although you certainly know how to bring the drama."

"I'm surrounded by critics," he huffed, and pouted until Alexis laughed and stretched up to kiss his cheek.

Then they were pulling up outside the restaurant, and Martha fluttered in ahead of the rest of them, charming the staff into adding two to their reservation. The cafe wasn't particularly crowded at this off-hour, so it wasn't difficult to make the change, and soon they were all settling into a corner table.