"I vow to kiss away your troubles."
September 2014
"You may now kiss the -"
She doesn't hear the rest. Doesn't need the words or the affirmation or the command from a stranger that she can kiss Castle. The world becomes this great big drowned-out and silenced thing that holds no allure to her in the sight of her husband.
Husband.
Her heart shatters or explodes and heat radiates out through her limbs, fireworks under her skin at the thought of it, married to Castle. He's her husband. It's surreal, it's mind blowing and amazing.
It's true, at last!
The word bride probably gets spoken, there may be catcalls and cheers and an entire universe's worth of applause as the people that love them most witness them come together as man and wife. They might even breathe a collective sigh of relief. A rumble of thank god, finally may whip its way around their small congregation, tears, sobs and laughter lighting the way, but she doesn't hear any of it.
Her eyes are full of him and her ears are thundering with the beat of her heart, the quiet intensity of each thud and shudder seems to call his name, call him to her.
At the word You Castle's coming for her, closing the half-step distance between them, hands raised and arms wide, you, just you written over his face and in his smile, in the warm scrunch of happiness that mostly hides the soft, joyful blue of his eyes in the summer sun.
Her breath catches, her husband, swooping in to kiss her and may now is muffled by the heat and soft caress of his fingers on her face as he cradles her jaw, angles her chin and brushes the edge of his nose against hers.
A mutual sigh of now, yes please, now, flows between them as his lips hover above hers and in the split second before the next word is spoken their eyes lock. Tight and unbreakable and forever.
Always.
They don't need to be told what comes next, it's second nature, it's simple and easy. It's fate.
Kiss becomes an existence.
In that lone four lettered, single syllabled word a life together is created, owned and acknowledged, expressed, desired and cherished. They've been through so much and yet here they are, curled around each other, savoring each other, still at war in the battle that rages between their clashing lips, but in sync, always in sync.
A future takes root, in that one meager word, first anniversaries and fiftieths, Christmases and christenings, birthdays and births and holding hands in the park. Chasing down suspects and toddlers and crazy pets that haven't even been born yet and all of it stems from that one simple word.
Kiss.
And they do.
Suddenly, all knowing and all consuming, the endless possibilities unwind in the touching of their lips, hearts and minds. Two souls coming together in celebration and damn him, he's made her sappy. He's made her believe in magic and forever and the possibility of so many things she cannot put them into words.
Her husband, claiming her lips and her heart and her forever with every single touch and each step they have taken together.
Kiss.
Her lips part on the K and she inhales him, allows Castle to flood her senses, float through her bloodstream and send devilish delight bursting out into her body as the familiar taste and smell of him pours inside and fills her up.
Their tongues meet on the I. A simple greeting, a moment in time and he touches at all aspects of her life, her past, present and future, every battle lost and triumph earned, every fire they put out and every dramatic event they started, everything he missed before they met and all the things she would never been without him coming to life.
Everything he helped her become exists in that kiss.
Her fingers tighten as they tumble through the first S. Silence and slumber and simplicity in the way he smooths over her skin and makes her feel like she's come home. Finally. Forever. And it's familiar and lovely and him.
Castle.
She gives up his name to the silence of their kiss, another vow she swears, another promise she will never break.
Castle.
Her safe place, her port in the storm, her anchor, her partner, her knight in shining armour and her harshest critic. The man who knows her better than any other, the ear into which her secrets are whispered and the place she lays her heart and body to rest at the end of every day.
Her Castle. Her husband.
They cling and breathe as one, soft sighs into her mouth like a lifeline, the second S surrounds them both and she rises in his embrace to give every ounce of it back. Her arms around his neck and holding tight, kiss is what they do.
Kiss, kiss. Kiss and kiss again.
Today she may be the bride who should be kissed, sweet and shy and blushing in the innocence of that first meeting of lips, but right now - and everyday here after - she's also his wife, fierce, determined.
She's his wife and his shield, the soft voice of conscience and logic that he will hear echo in the deepest reaches of his mind from here on and ever after. She kisses him as his bride and his wife and under all of that as the woman he first knew.
She kisses him and reminds him, yes, under everything, she's still Kate Beckett, challenging, frustrating.
Maddening.
Teasing and cheeky, lustful and giddy.
She doesn't let him forget it.
In the sweep of her tongue and the way she hooks her foot behind his calf to bring him in tight against her. She may well be Kate Castle - and how odd that sounds and how right and lovely - but she's still Kate Beckett and he's still the writer - her writer - the one who wormed his way inside her heart, only to set up camp and bring her to life.
Married or engaged, they are who they always were, and together they become so much more.
She grips him tighter and moans deeply, hoping he feels exactly what he does to her - heat and lightning, thunder and electricity, all - nipping at his mouth and the taste of morning sunlight on their lips.
Husband.
The flower in his lapel is crushed under her near savage, fevered fingers, dragging him closer as she clings and climbs and curls herself into him, the sweet scent is intoxicating as it breaks around them and her lashes flutter in the breeze.
Still they kiss.
They kiss knowing everyday will start and end this way, in each others arms. They kiss to show the world they belong to each other and his hand slips from her face, curves to her neck and pulls her closer, the heated span of his palm on her back aligning them perfectly.
Castle sighs her name into her mouth, a tender, awed Kate so sweet that her heart clenches at the sound. Tracing her lips with his own as if memorizing her in the moment, they gift each other with the knowledge that they will never forget this kiss, not one single second of it, not ever.
They kiss, for themselves and the commitment they have made, for the words that bubbled up inside them and spilled out, drowning out the vows they had prepared as the things they wanted to say suddenly paled in comparison to the things they just had to express.
They kiss for the pleas and promises and the laughter, for the joy she can feel burning under the skin, for the need to tell him how much she loves him, how wonderfully and perfectly and annoyingly for the better he has changed her life.
Kate smooths her fingertips over his face and presses her promises into the warmth of his skin and she hears the words Castle spoke just for her on gentle loop in her head.
And still they kiss, hearts frantic and pounding and screaming at each other in the silence. I love you, just you. No one but you.
And still they kiss.
Everything anyone needs to know about them was spoken aloud, in his deep and thoughtful tone, in his quips and laughter and in the seriousness of the way he loves her.
Forever.
Their story was written and rewritten and magnified in the shy quake of her own voice as she lifted it loud enough for everyone to hear, in the way she smiled and swallowed around words so full of truth that they ached as she set them free.
And now in celebration the essence of who they are flows freely and unknowable to any other soul, between them as they kiss, kiss and kiss again, unburdened by hardship and what went before.
All that matters is the here and now.
This day.
This kiss.
This moment between them.
And still it goes on. On and on until the need for air tugs her eyes open and she's looking at him, her eyes blurred with tears.
Her husband, so beautiful.
On and on and it's hot and slow and long and they don't want to pull apart - panting - hands holding tight and bodies wrapped up together, but they do, foreheads dropping to meet as they sigh past lips that glisten just as brightly as their eyes.
They're married. And she laughs, out of nowhere, utter delight catching her by surprise, catching him by surprise with the wideness of her smile, the lightness in her body as she holds on tight, her fingers touching his face until he laughs with her and it all becomes real.
No longer a fairy tale or a dream, or a near miss, but them. Just them.
Married - their lips meet again, making a million silent vows each time they touch - kissing for the longest time in the summer sun.