From the episode in which Martha met up with that theater critic who panned her back in the 80's. What if Castle had invited Kate to join them for dinner?

Thanks to the awesome Sparklemouse for editing.

Chapter 44: 4x18, A Dance With Death

That would be an incredible twist.

Kate fully intends to go home and have a quiet evening. Until Castle catches her before he leaves.

"Will you come over?"

"What?"

"Please. Come to dinner." He fixes her with those big warm eyes of his, so gentle and earnest, and oh no, she can already feel herself weakening. He's too good at this. "Mother likes you. If you're there, she'll be nice. You can charm this critic. And if something does happen, you have a gun. And handcuffs."

Castle eyes her with a look that's too warm, too earnest, too sincere, and damn it, damn it -

"All right. Fine." It's just dinner. It's not even a date. She's just agreeing to be there for crowd control.

At a family dinner.

She's been doing this recently, spending time with the Castles. After the bank. Holding Castle's hand watching his mother's mostly fictional one-woman show. It made her blood warm, that soft, innocent contact. Because he didn't shrug her hand off. They held hands for the rest of the show.

And now she's playing referee at another family dinner.

She bites her lip and tucks her hair behind her ear and gives up fighting the smile that takes over her lips. Because his grin is contagious.

The irate theater critic storms out the front door.

A hysterical Martha bolts from the room and Castle follows with Alexis, trying to calm her down, leaving Kate alone at the table.

She sits motionless. She has no idea what to do.

That...was all kinds of awful.

At a loss - she doesn't feel comfortable following them, but she doesn't just want to leave - she takes a deep breath, sets her napkin on the table, and starts stacking plates. She's collecting silverware when she hears footsteps, and turns to find Alexis.

"Oh." The girl blinks. "You - you don't have to - "

"It's, uh. Fine. I didn't know what else to do."

Alexis smiles softly. Wow. It's been a long time since Castle's daughter has smiled at her. "Well, thanks."

"Is she - okay?"

The girl nods. "She's just upset. Dad's talking to her now."

Kate nods, slowly piling the napkins together. She's not sure what to say. She doesn't know where she stands with this girl, not now, not after so much. But -

"Kate." Alexis hesitates. "Thank you."

There's a soft look in Alexis' blue eyes, so much like her father's, and in spite of everything, even after that terrible day they both thought Castle and his mother had been killed in an explosion, Kate thinks - she hopes - there's a seed, a tiny sapling of peace that can sprout between them.

They finish cleaning up dinner together in tentative, comfortable silence.

Castle comes hustling into the precinct the next morning with coffee and cream cheese danishes and apologetic eyes. "Look, I'm sorry - I'm really sorry about dinner last night. That was horrific."

Her lips quirk. "It was - mildly uncomfortable."

He shudders. "It was awful. Can I at least buy you a drink to make up for it?"

"You trying to ply me with alcohol so I'll forget it happened?"

"Yes."

She laughs at that. At least he's being honest. "Sure."

The Old Haunt is open but not crowded, all smoky golden light and gleaming, polished wood and glass. The piano's closed up; apparently Sid's off for the evening. Glenn Miller floats through the speakers.

Castle gets drinks and they settle at a booth tucked in the back of the bar, quiet, where no one will bother them. It's their spot; when the boys come with them they'll usually sit up front, near the pool table and dartboard. But lately, when it's just them, just the two of them, they inevitably end up in the most secluded part of the room. It's probably not a good idea. But in the dim, smoky light, his eyes are deep, rich blue. And he looks at her like he thinks she's beautiful.

And every time they go, it feels more and more like a proper date, until maybe someday they'll just quietly step over that line without realizing it.

Tonight he's in a good mood, watching her over his glass with a smile, the kind that lights up his whole face and makes her blush for no reason. "You know, that dance show's pretty entertaining."

She laughs. "I'll have to take your word for it. I don't know the first thing about dancing."

"I gotta say, I'm surprised." Castle swirls the scotch around in his glass. "I would've pegged you for a dancer."

"Never really my thing."

"Nice to know there's at least one aspect of culture in which I've surpassed you, then."

Kate shoots him a baleful look. "Oh, have you."

"I will have you know, Detective, I'm an excellent dancer."

"Of course you are."

He shoots her an arch look. "You don't believe me?"

Kate props her chin on her hand. "No. I really don't."

Castle shoots her a mock-wounded look. "Beckett. I'm hurt. I'm wounded. I can't believe you would accuse me of lying in this vital matter."

She can't stop smiling. "I'm sure you'll get over it, Castle."

He briefly sends her puppy dog eyes before turning around. "Hey, Linda? You busy right now?"

The waitress clearing one of the nearby tables looks up. "You need something, Mr. Castle?"

"Linda, I told you. It's Rick." He waves her over. "Come here. I'd like you to meet my friend Kate. From the police station."

"Hi." Kate shakes hands with the older woman. "You work for Castle?"

"Eh. He thinks he runs the place."

"Hey. I do run the place."

Linda pats his cheek affectionately. "Sure you do, hon."

He scowls at her. "Well. Fine. But Kate and I were just talking, and she doesn't seem to believe that I'm a good dancer."

"Rick's a very good dancer," Linda says immediately.

Castle beams. "See?"

"From a witness with a vested interest in keeping you happy," Kate points out. "Hardly unbiased testimony."

Linda grins. "I like her. She's smarter than you."

"Stop ganging up on me," Castle scowls. "Fine. Linda, would you join me? Apparently I need to prove myself."

Linda just chuckles, wiping her hands on her towel and tossing it over her shoulder. "Lead on, sweetie."

Kate leans back in the booth, smiling over the rim of her glass as she watches Castle flip to a new song on the stereo and take Linda's hand. The music starts and Castle shoots her an exaggerated wink before he starts to move.

He's good.

He twirls Linda around the floor with practiced ease, light on his feet, flashing Kate a smug grin every time he executes a graceful turn. He's very obviously showing off for her benefit. Linda just rolls her eyes and goes with it. It's delightful.

The song ends and Castle twirls Linda into an overly-dramatic dip before letting her go with a gentlemanly bow. Linda offers him a mock-salute and goes back to wiping down tables and clearing glasses, and Castle turns back to Kate, arms folded. "Well, Detective Skeptical?"

"I'm - actually impressed. How'd you turn into Fred Astaire?"

"My mother's a Broadway actress. I grew up helping her learn steps."

She nods. "Right." It makes sense. A picture forms in her mind, a little brown-haired boy and his mother pushing chairs to the side of a tiny living room and patiently walking though foxtrots and two-steps and waltzes and tap routines. An adorable little boy in his sock feet, with a crinkly smile and big blue eyes.

"Yeah." He grins. "To this day, I can perform the entire opening tap sequence from that 42nd Street production Mother did once."

"Care to demonstrate?"

"Not really. I'm too sober to do that right now."

She laughs, draining her glass. "I'll keep that in mind, then."

"You going to get me drunk and take advantage of my...dance skills, Beckett?" He shoots her a smoldering look, and she can't stop smiling, even as her cheeks get warm.

"You're safe, Mr. Baryshnikov."

He moves as if to sit, but pauses as the music changes. His eyes light up.

"Come on."

"What?"

"Dance with me."

As Night and Day floats out of the speakers, Castle holds out his hand and Kate swallows, trying to ignore the soft wave of - something - that curls through her chest. "No, Castle, I - don't dance. Not like this." Not in his embrace, pressed against his body, her hand clasped in his. Not when there's nowhere to hide.

"It's okay. I'll show you." Castle takes her hand before she can pull back, his thumb tracing lightly over her skin. Her mouth goes dry. "Trust me, Kate."

And then he's tugging her to her feet before she can protest, pulling her closer until she's in his arms. He knows what he's doing; his left hand cradles her right and his free hand slides gently over her back. Oh. This - it's - it feels so good. It shouldn't. It feels amazing. This is -

"Kate," he murmurs into her ear, his nose brushing softly against her cheek. She shivers as his words warm her skin. "Relax. This isn't a punishment."

Kate huffs out a short laugh, but right now she's not so sure he's right. It feels like a punishment. It's taunting her. You could have this, you know. You could. If you weren't broken.

"You okay?"

She looks up, startled, to find Castle watching her.

"What do you mean?"

"You seem a little - tense." He pauses, his hand on her waist holding her still for a moment. "If you - if you really don't want to dance, Kate, it's okay. I didn't mean to make you uncomfortable."

"No, no." It's not like that. It's good. It's too good. "I just don't get to dance like this very often." She takes a long breath as he starts moving again, back to their slow, easy rhythm.

He takes her hand and leads her through a spin. He's a good partner; she lets him guide her through the steps and she ends up neatly in his arms. He smiles. "You're good at this."

"Not like you," she murmurs shakily. He's too close. Too warm.

"You just need practice," he whispers into her ear. "You'll be great."

She's not sure if he's still talking about dancing. They danced once before, in a noisy, crowded ballroom, back when she hated him and he knew it and he liked to prod her. But it was nothing like this. The music floats around them like silk, twining them together like a ribbon, settling heavy in her limbs and tugging her into his body. Heating her blood with lyrics like I think of you day and night and This longing for you follows wherever I go. Maybe she shouldn't have agreed to this.

Or maybe she should have done this a long time ago.

He's been waiting for so long. He's a good man. He loves her. And she's so tired, so horribly tired, of running away.

Kate lets out a long breath and sinks into him, warm and unresisting in his embrace. He seems to sense the change; he doesn't say anything, but she can feel the hitch in his breath as she settles into his touch.

"Sorry if my hand's sweaty."

"Nah." His fingers curl around hers. "It's fine."

His right hand is settled on the small of her back, and at first it's still. But then, so gentle she almost misses it, his thumb starts moving. It's just a light touch, soft circles over the curve of her spine. At first she thinks it's involuntary, or accidental, or - or something.

Until he does it again.

It can't be anything but a caress. It's too tender. Too intimate. She swallows hard, her back arching just a bit under his touch, and she feels him start against her. He felt that. He knows. He knows this isn't innocent.

Her palms are definitely sweating but he still isn't letting go.

He lets out a warm breath against her skin and she shivers because she can feel him smiling against her. He's smiling against her temple, his lips pressed gently against her skin. He has to be feeling her pulse; it's thrumming so quick in her veins that she's trembling. She didn't expect this. She feels fragile. She feels vulnerable.

So this is what it's like to let it happen.

Her left hand is settled on his shoulder. She takes a deep breath and curls it around the nape of his neck, twining her fingers through the short, silky hair there. Castle stiffens, his hand on her back tightening, pulling her even closer into the line of his body.

She thinks she can feel just the lightest brush of a kiss as he pulls his lips away from her temple. She blinks - her eyes suddenly feel so heavy - and looks up into his gaze.

Kate swallows - she has no words when he's looking at her like this, like he's in love with her (and he is) and he looks like he's about to say something when the music whispers and this torment won't be through...till you let me spend my life making love to you...

Her heart stumbles in her chest, because his eyes have gone dark blue with naked want and she's drowning, so wrapped up in the smell of his cologne and the safety, the warmth of being surrounded by him. And some quiet old jazz standard has just said that thing they never talk about, that thing that's been following them around for a year, the cloud of love and longing that hovers over her whenever he's with her. Her whole body is full of sparks, alive and aware like her veins are shimmering with champagne instead of blood.

And he's already so close that it barely takes any motion at all for her to lean forward and kiss him gently on the mouth.

It's soft and slow and exquisite, innocent and sweet, and as he kisses her back, Kate threads her fingers through his hair and breathes him in and lets herself sink into how blatantly obvious his love is.

"Kate?"

"Mmm."

"Kate -" His breath skirts over her lips and she just wants him to stop talking and kiss her forever. "I feel like I should have something profound to say right now."

She smiles into his mouth. She can hear what he's not letting himself say. It's three words long and he's whispered it to her before.

"Later, Castle." She steals another soft kiss and tucks her head into his shoulder. "Right now I just want to dance."