#4 Make It Real

The ringing of his phone roused him from his writing stupor. He checked the caller ID. Manny? He hadn't heard from that guy in quite some time. Curious, he picked up.

"Manny, what's up?"

"Castle my man! You gotta come down here!" He had to yell to be heard over the background noises, a multitudinous murmur of voices and discombobulated music notes.

"Where are you?"

"'Paddy Reilly's', corner of 2nd and East 29th."

Castle didn't recognize the pub; he'd had a long couple of days on a case with Beckett, he was tired, and he was stuck in the middle of writing a really defiant scene.

"Not tonight Manny. I'm swamped," he turned him down.

"Dude, your girl's here. You're gonna wanna see this!" And then Manny just hung up.

Castle stared at his phone for a moment, stunned. Did the whole world know?

The sign at the door advertised it to be "Open Mic Night," but otherwise the Irish Pub looked exactly like one would expect. Brick and wood were offset by green and red walls, decorated with Celtic writing and large cloverleaf signs advertising Guinness. He weaved his way through the crowd, clustered by the bar and around the wooden benches and stools. It was very busy, even for a Wednesday night, and he wasn't able to pick out Manny within the mass of heads in the dimly lit space.

He was getting closer to the stage at the back of the room; the music became more defined over the noises of the crowd, floating words and guitar notes.

He recognized her voice before he saw her.

'Maybe it's a sign of weakness, when I don't know what to say…'

The words were low, haunting in the way she freed them from her throat. His heart began thundering against his rib cage.

And then the crowd parted, like the magic of a curtain opening to reveal her, just for him.

Kate.

She was perched on a wooden stool, her legs, those unbelievable long legs, clad in jeans, balancing her, one lifted up against the cross beams of the stool to hold the guitar in place on top of her thigh. Her long hair was falling down in waves, hiding parts of her face, flowing against her tight leather jacket, cascading over her shoulders, down her arms.

Her voice picked up now, strong, almost defiant.

'We belong to the light, we belong to the thunder,

We belong to the sound of the words we've both fallen under…'

She belted out the chorus, had the crowd captivated, tied to her by the strength of her voice. Bathed in shadows drawn by the red spotlight focused on the stage, she sat regally, untouchable.

He ached for her, with a strength that he'd never felt before, deep, clawing at his insides.

'Close your eyes and try to sleep now, close your eyes and try to dream…'

Low again, she caressed the lyrics, and he felt the words as if she was singing only for him. He stared, captivated by her long graceful fingers as she expertly plucked the strings. He'd had no idea.

He doubted that there would ever be a moment in his life when she no longer surprised him.

We can't begin to know it, how much we really care

I hear your voice inside me, I see your face everywhere…

The words touched the desperate, needy places inside of him, and he wondered how she had picked her songs. He wanted her to have only him in mind when she did. He leaned against the brick wall for support, his legs wobbly.

She sang the chorus once more, persuasive lines of how we belong together, and when she finished on the last notes, the crowd soared, celebrated her in chants and whistles and applause.

She lifted her head, nodded her thanks, scanning the faces with her captivating eyes, and he knew, even with the red lighting distorting it, that she was blushing at the praise.

"Thank you," she spoke into the microphone, her voice roughened from use, dripping with sensuality that made him see images of naked limbs tangled in sheets, tousled hair spread over his pillow.

"This'll be my last song tonight," she announced her goodbye, and the crowd roared and whistled once more, clearly not ready to give her up.

He knew that feeling, intimately.

She let her gaze wander once more, settled back against her stool, when she froze. Stared at him, her eyes brimming in surprise at seeing him among the masses of people, simultaneously bashful and defiant, and the contrast would've made him smile except he was staring back, enthralled by her. She was so beautiful, and his breath rushed out of him, his hand against his sternum.

She blinked, breaking the spell. Biting her lip, she adjusted her guitar, seeming to think for a moment. Then she began, plucked her first notes, looked back up at him.

'Saying I love you

Is not the words I want to hear from you…'

People cheered hearing those first words; clearly she had picked a crowd favorite, but his heart clenched. Yet she held his eyes captive with hers, willing him to listen, and so he watched her sing, listened. The world around him fell away, narrowing down to only the two of them, alone, captives of the lyrics and her haunting voice.

'More than words is all you have to do to make it real…'

A soft punch against his bicep startled him, broke him out of the spell momentarily. He turned to find Manny next to him. Smiling knowingly, his friend handed him a shot of whiskey. Then clapped him between the shoulder blades, that manly slap that signifies encouragement, before disappearing once again into the crowd.

Castle sipped his drink, leaned his shoulder against the bricks again, the warmth of the alcohol only intensifying the heat in his blood, flushing his cheeks.

'What would you do if my heart was torn in two…'

His stomach stuttered, visions of hot sticky blood between his fingers, glassy unseeing eyes, a gulf of bright red spreading onto green too green grass, and he gulped, trying to swallow the dread. But she looked at him while she continued her words, holding him close to her only with her eyes, and his breathing eased.

And so he listened, enthralled by the rich melodious sounds released from her lips, freed from the depths of her soul.

'Now that I've tried to talk to you and make you understand

All you have to do is close your eyes and just reach out your hand

And touch me, Hold me close don't ever let me go…'

The blood roared in his ears, his heart exhilarated, beating a fast staccato rhythm against his ribs. The words spreading warmth through him like a balm, healing from the inside all the cracks and wounds that had grown with loving her so wholly and seemingly unrequited.

'More than words…' She drew out the last line, slow and sensuous, while the room broke out in cheers around her final notes, applause thundering.

People gathered around her as she exited the stage, smiling, thanking her, complimenting. While she slowly, but decisively, made her way toward him.

Her hands shoved into her pants pockets, she stood before him, bouncing slightly on the balls of her feet. Looking at him from under her lashes, adorably shy.

"Hey Castle."

"You…," he searched for words. Words were his métier, his passion, yet none were large enough, perfect enough to encompass the beauty of what he'd just seen, the extraordinary beauty that is she.

"You were phenomenal!"

"Yeah?" And then she smiled, lips spread wide, her features transformed into bright, stunning happiness. As if his approval was the only one that mattered.

Everything had rushed to the surface, his ache for her, his need, his love, and now he couldn't hold back any longer. Shouldn't, if the way she looked at him was any indication.

He reached for her hand, entwined his fingers with hers. Pulled her with him, and she followed. Threading through the sea of people, through the door, outside into the chilly night, around the corner of the pub.

He pushed her against the wall, her back coming to rest against the cool bricks, his body close to hers, shielding her from the wind.

"Cas…," her breath rushed out of her lungs, a swirling cloud of warm white fog in the night air.

But he pressed his fingers against her lips, halting her words. She looked at him, eyes luminous, glimmering expectantly in the darkness surrounding them. Then she reached out, dug her fingers into the soft fabric of his sweater, and pulled his body against hers.

She was warm, soft curves against his, the jut of bones just underneath. Twining one arm around her waist, he tugged her tighter against his chest, fingers splayed against her spine underneath her leather coat. Her breathing got heavy, chest lifting fast from the motion of her lungs, rubbing enticingly against him.

He held her close, rested his face against the crook of her neck. Breathing her in for a moment, her warmth and her scent, so familiar and finally so exhilaratingly new.

He threaded his fingers through her hair, the tips caressing her scalp and the back of her neck. Around to her ear and her lovely cheek, outlining the shape of her bone, her eyebrow, the tender skin under her eyes and the enticing shape of the corner of her mouth. She breathed out, and her warm pant fluttered against the pad of his thumb.

Their eyes locked as she smoothed her hands up over his stomach, then his chest, lacing her fingers around his neck. Tugging his face close to hers, eyes hooded, needy and wanton.

He tasted her breath against his mouth, hot and exciting, an instant before she put her lips against his. Warm and flavorful, soft touches, tasting, nipping. And then she made that sound again, almost a whimper galloping from the back of her throat, and he dove for her, his hand at the back of her head, voracious for her lips, her taste, her heat.

He kissed her like he had always wanted to, and she kissed him back, long and hard and just as greedy for him. Digging her fingers into his shoulders, holding on, she pulled up one of her legs, twined it around his back, pushing him tighter against her. She gasped into his mouth when his middle came in contact with hers, heat against heat, and they blinked, coming back to their senses with the realization that they were still standing outside, making out on a street corner.

She dropped her leg back onto solid ground, breathing heavily against his neck, and he blinked away the remnants of heat and swirling desire.

Then her hands traveled again, from around his neck, over his shoulders and to his front, gripping the v-neck of his sweater. She tugged and he looked at her.

Her eyes are shining at him, brimming with emotion. Her demand soft, but determined.

"Take me home, Castle."

End of Scene

AN: Song credits:

"We Belong," by Pat Benatar

"More Than Words," by Extreme.