Taken from a photo prompt on Tumblr, which can be found at castleincalifornia dot tumblr dot com slash post slash 115722577854.
The Story of Us
"Penny for your thoughts?"
She slowly draws her eyes away from the sight of their daughter dancing with her new husband only to look into the sparkling blue eyes of her own spouse.
"Oh, nothing much, I'm just thinking…about…"
She trails off as she glances at the swaying couple again, her mind a tangled web of memories and wistfulness and gratitude and where has all the time gone?
Their little girl got married today, and while Zoe is certainly no youngster at the ripe old age of twenty-seven, she'll always be Kate's baby, no matter how often her daughter protests her use of that term.
She turns back in time to see Castle scooting his chair closer to hers, their knees kissing now, his hand resting on his leg but close enough to brush a finger teasingly against his wife's bare calf. He still likes touching things.
Some things never change.
"Tell me, Kate."
She sighs and shakes her head, knowing there's no way she can escape the inquiries of her always-astute partner. "I can't believe our Zoe is married, Castle."
Looking to their youngest child, his face is taken over by the warm, infectious smile she that she so adores, the one that makes his eyes crinkle and his cheeks crease with the force of it. He directs that smile back at her then, and she flushes hot under his appreciative gaze. Even after thirty years of marriage, he still has that power over her.
"Remember our first dance?"
Her own smile breaks free then, the memory of their perfectly impromptu wedding setting her heart aglow.
"How could I forget it?"
She slides her hand into his, lacing their fingers and squeezing, the simple gesture hopefully conveying her gratitude for their amazing marriage, from those first dance steps as man and wife, to this moment, right now, watching their daughter do the same.
He squeezes back. Of course he understands.
"We've written quite the story for ourselves, haven't we Beckett?"
He still knows the right thing to say. Most of the time, anyway.
"We certainly have."
"And to think it all began that fateful night at a rooftop book party, when a smokin' hot homicide detective sought out the company of a ruggedly handsome mystery novelist…"
"Um, I think you're conveniently omitting the part where I was there to question you in connection to several murders."
His eyebrows shoot up in mock disapproval. "I'm sorry, but who's telling this story?"
She smirks at his outburst, shaking her head in contrition. "My apologies. Please continue."
He rolls his eyes theatrically before proceeding. "Anyway, the writer had nothing to do with those murders, of course, but at the very least, Harrison Tisdale did show a modicum of good taste in choosing to emulate his novels."
Tisdale. Now there's a name she hasn't thought about in years. Yes, she supposes she can spare a sliver of gratitude for him, having acted as the conduit to her future husband and all, but Castle's glee over his books being used as the inspiration for a sociopath is another story altogether.
"People died, Castle."
"And I fully acknowledge that was a tragedy. Are you gonna let me finish or what?"
She simply nods this time, happy to humor him and his overactive imagination.
"Now then, where was I?"
"You were creatively distorting our humble beginnings."
"Ah yes, right. There was an instant and powerful spark between the detective and the writer, an undeniable chemistry that would have him trying to bed her by the end of their very first case."
Kate snorts, but he continues undeterred.
"Shortsighted and stubborn as she was, the detective was willing to walk away when the case was wrapped. But the writer…no, he knew he had a future with her, even if she was deeply in denial about it still."
"Castle…"
"Shush, I'm just starting to get to the good part."
"Oh, this I've gotta hear."
"The novelist used his extensive connections to be installed as her new partner, a move that she fully embraced from the get-go." He ignores her pointed Ha! before continuing. "Their attraction was palpable, their dynamic sizzling. They made an amazing pair, delivering a solve rate that other homicide detectives have been trying to match ever since, without success I might add."
She grins at that. He's not wrong; their solve rate has never been rivaled.
"Their partnership flourished, and a friendship blossomed. Alas, the course of true love never did run smooth, and the detective and the writer experienced more than their fair share of ups and downs during those first few years. They both had a good amount of baggage they were grappling with. There were fights and misunderstandings. Other lovers that came between them. Lies, both big and small, that threatened to tear them apart before they'd ever had a chance to begin."
His face is thoughtful now, so many more creases and lines adorning it than that of the cocky, abrasive young man she first met, but she adores each and every one. She loves the wrinkles and the grey hairs and all of the history that accompanies them.
She squeezes his hand again, maybe never so appreciative as she is in this instant that they were able to overcome their stupidity and clear the air and finally just talk to each other.
"On a stormy night in May, the detective finally came to the writer, rain-soaked and scared and ready to finally give him a proper chance. That was the night they finally found each other. The night their happily ever after began."
Another smile at that, another squeeze.
"They were married a few years later in a small, intimate ceremony that far surpassed any big, lavish affair. It was beautiful, emotional, perfect. A third time's the charm for the writer and a one and done for the detective. Of course, they had to get rid of her first husband before they could wed, but that's a story for another time."
She blurts out a loud laugh at that, her hand covering her mouth to contain the sound. He always does know how to lighten the mood.
"Their son, Aaron, a spitting image of his ruggedly handsome father, was born about a year and a half later. Zoe, their baby girl, was a surprise that arrived a year and half after him. And together, along with Alexis, his mother, and her father, they made a family."
She's getting misty-eyed now, listening to him talk about the people who comprise the family she's come to love so fiercely.
"They loved and lived and had adventures all over the globe. The writer wrote a dozen books in total about the detective's alter ego, and the detective retired early from the NYPD to return to law school, so she could fight for the people who have the least, who have no voice in the system. And the writer is profoundly proud of her, every day."
This time, he's the one to squeeze her hand.
"Time passed. Nikki Heat retired. The writer took on new challenges, and the lawyer took on new cases. They moved into a bigger home, where they shared an office. They cooked and traveled and entertained together, enjoying everything life had to offer them. They loved their children as they shuttled them to soccer practices and ballet and piano lessons. They attended spelling bees and recitals and sports meets and loved every last minute of it.
"Aaron showed a talent for music young, and learned to play over ten instruments proficiently in his first two decades of life. He plays with the London Philharmonic now and his parents miss him desperately, but he visits often with his wife and will soon grace them with a grandchild."
Kate smiles widely at that, Aaron and Julia having just announced her pregnancy when they arrived home for Zoe's wedding. They've been grandparents for a while to Alexis's three children, but more babies are always a welcome thing.
"And Zoe…oh, that girl. Their free spirit, their rebel, their beautiful surprise who apparently did not care that her mom and dad wanted to wait a little bit longer before having another child, who disregarded and conquered their birth control, intent on exerting her will as early as the moment of her conception."
That earns him a hearty laugh. To this day he's a skilled storyteller, and their Zoe makes for some excellent source material.
"From the very start, Zoe didn't possess the mellow demeanor of her brother. Oh no, she was determined to be a handful, and a handful she was. Precocious and competitive with a wicked sense of humor. But she grew into a gorgeous, confident, self-possessed young woman, just like her mother, but with a talent for words, just like her father. And unbeknownst to her parents, she managed to get her first book published under a pseudonym so she wouldn't be given preferential treatment because of her old man. Jesus, I still can't believe she did that."
"You're kinda breaking the fourth wall here, babe."
"My apologies. But if you can find it in your heart to forgive me, I'm close to wrapping up. Zoe became a successful writer in her own right, and one day, she was introduced to a bright young lawyer that her mother worked with, and…well, here we are."
They both look to Zoe and David then, their foreheads tipped together in a gesture all too familiar to her parents, the finals notes of the song wafting through the air. When the bandleader invites others to join the newlyweds on the dance floor now, Castle rises and extends his hand to his wife.
"May I have this dance?"
She smiles and stands, the two of them weaving their way into the crowd, wrapping themselves around each other with the kind of intimacy that old lovers share, as the music resumes.
Kate breathes in the familiar scent of her husband as her hand rests over the heart that has beat only for her for more than thirty years now, and her own heart swells with gratitude, for who he is, for how far they've come, for this life they've made together.
"So Castle," she begins as she pulls back, once again staring into the clear blue that rivals a sunny, cloudless sky, "you haven't finished the story yet. How does it end?"
He smiles and leans in to touch his lips gently to hers.
"That's the best part of all. The story's not over yet. We're still writing it."
Thank you for reading...as always, I'd love to hear your thoughts.