When the ball drops...
Nothing extravagant, that's what he had said. Just a few friends and family to bring in the new year.
Alexis greeted her at the door with a smile. She entered the loft, not exactly sure of what to expect, but she certainly hadn't expected this. It was... nothing extravagant.
Certainly more than anything she had ever hosted. Champagne, cocktails and hors d'oeuvres. Tasteful music and joyous chatter adding to the ambience. But to Castle's standards, this was moderate.
Lanie, Esposito, Ryan and Jenny were already there, already drinking and mingling, already settled in. She crossed the loft, joining them, glad that they were already here. She didn't know anyone else. Sure, she recognised a few of the more well-known authors, and the local news anchor, but she didn't know anyone.
"You made it." She heard his voice, soft in her ear.
A hand rested on her hip, his chest brushed against her back. She turned her head, her face inches from his. The smell of whiskey, bitters and orange lingered on his breath: an old fashioned. His eyes were glassy, a little distant, but filled with excitement.
"I got you a drink." He held up a martini glass, a suggestive glint in his eye. "It's dirty."
She took the glass from his hand, a laugh spilling from her lips. "Someone's having a good night."
"Better now that you're here."
Her eyes drifted to Lanie, who seemed all too amused by Castle's lowered inhibitions.
His name was called from across the room: a distinguished looking gentleman stood by Martha, beckoning their host over to them. Castle sighed, closed his eyes as if to will this man away.
"You're being summoned," she teased, sensing his objections.
"If I ignore him, maybe he will go away."
She looked over his shoulder to the man, who was still waving his hands and trying to garner Castle's attention.
"I don't think so," she grimaced. She rubbed her hand over his shoulder, an offer of support. With one last, heavy sigh, Castle pulled his hand from her waist and left.
The third martini had her buzzed. Confident, sociable, euphoric.
As she made her way through the loft, conversing with people she wouldn't usually have the opportunity to interact with, she couldn't help but keep him in her periphery. They way he lit up the room, the way he held focus and had his guests completely enthralled in his stories... he had her breathless.
Because, even with all eyes on him, she was the one his eyes searched for in the crowd. She was the one he was trying to impress. Hers was the only smile that meant a thing to him.
He lowered the music, turned on the television. It was almost midnight, the ball would begin its descent soon.
He manoeuvred his way through the room, weaving through people, until he stood with his 12th precinct family. Until he stood with her.
Ten...
A perfectly synchronised chorus of voices began the countdown. A poorly harmonised melody of hope and possibility.
Nine...
She could see the crowd around her begin to shuffle, to pair off in preparation, even within their own small group. Ryan turned to his wife, took her in his arms. Still in their newlywed bliss, she was his whole world, nothing else mattered.
Eight...
Esposito and Lanie's hands found each other, an unspoken confirmation that they wouldn't be bringing in the new year alone. They might not be together, but they would never be alone.
Seven...
She joined in with the chorus. The ceremonial chanting of numbers, counting down to the New Year. She was under no illusion that the strike of midnight signified anything more than a new day, but there was something beautiful in the hope and optimism.
Six...
He inched closer to her, close enough for her to feel his presence lingering behind her.
Five...
His hand pressed against her lower back. As he stepped around her, turning to face her, he glided his hand along the soft material of her dress.
Four...
His hand came to rest on her hip, fingertips gripping, pressing into her.
Three...
His eyes burned through her, seared into her soul. She lost focus, the ability to count down, the ability to breathe properly.
Two...
It's minuscule, the distance he's closing between them. Insignificant enough that no one else has probably even noticed. But she has, she can feel his energy vibrating against her.
One...
He wouldn't, would he? He's not that brave, is he? But he's looking at her so intently. His eyes are bold, daring.
Happy New Year!
Cheers and applause erupted around them.
In her peripheral vision she could see people around her embracing. Kissing, hugging, celebrating.
She didn't move. She didn't dare break this spell.
The chaos of the party around them began to fade away into nothingness. No one else existed, no one but them.
Her eyes flickered to his lips, then back to his eyes.
"Happy New Year, Beckett."
She lifted herself on her tiptoes, captured his lips with hers before either one of them regained their sense and pulled away.
He moved his free hand to her face, gently pressed his palm under her ear, tangled his fingers through her hair. Her hands roamed his chest, fisted the material of his shirt.
The bitter-sweet taste of whiskey was still fresh on his tongue as it danced with hers, passionate, unrestrained, insatiable.
Music began to play again, pulling them from their haze. She rested her forehead against his, lingered for a short moment before pulling away.
"Happy New Year, Castle."