Prompt: "Dance with me."
Set 3x22 (To Love and Die in LA) after *that* conversation in the suite. Does this scene need more tension? No. Am I gonna do it anyway? Obviously.
May 3rd
You're not too bad yourself, Castle...
He could see the chaos of her thoughts in the depths of her eyes: the adoration clouded by confusion and guilt, the desperate need to backtrack.
He knew that this moment was fleeting - over before anything even had a chance to start - but he wasn't ready for that, not yet.
Her eyes drifted from his, searching the room for distraction and when they settled on the door that lead to her bedroom, he knew he had to act now.
"Kate," he whispered, waiting until he held her full attention before continuing. "Dance with me?"
She laughed before she realised he wasn't kidding. "What?"
"Dance with me," he repeated, with more confidence this time.
She hadn't said no... that was something.
"There's no music."
"We don't need music," he said with a casual shrug.
"Dancing in silence?" she asked as if they idea was absurd, unheard of, a sign of insanity.
But her smile didn't fade and he knew she wasn't as opposed to the idea as she may have been letting on.
He rose from his side of the couch.
"I'll show you," he said as he held out his hand for her.
She looked at his open palm, curiosity creeping up on her until finally - after what felt like an eternity of hesitation - she reached out and placed her hand in his.
He pulled her to her feet, led her away from the couch and into the open space by the kitchen. When he turned back to face her, his free hand fell to her waist.
There was a slight hitch in her breath; a short, sharp inhale followed by the almost imperceptible straightening of her spine. But he noticed. When it came to her, he always noticed.
"Is this okay?" he asked, softly as he stepped closer to her.
Her eyes darted around the room, determined to focus on anything but him until she gained her courage and met his gaze.
She nodded tentatively. "Uh, y-yeah."
With her confirmation, he pulled her closer and slowly began to sway. She slipped her hand from his, rested it on his chest as she gave in and allowed her body to move with his.
She kept her eyes locked to his, each second her gaze lingered had his heart skipping beats.
Dangerously erratic, stupidly hopeful.
As if she could read his mind, could sense the fluttering of his heart, she looked away and stopped swaying.
He had pushed her - that's what he did - but this time he had pushed too far, crossed a line.
He dropped his hands from her waist and mentally prepared his apology because - if he had made her uncomfortable, if this was too much for her - he truly was sorry. But before he had a chance to say anything, she leant into him and draped her arms over his shoulders and clasped her hands behind his neck.
She smiled her reassurances - whatever concerns she had, whatever doubts had crossed her mind had seemingly vanished.
He could almost see the idea brighten her eyes as they dropped to his lips, but she hesitated: not quite brave enough to act on it.
His heart was pounding, hard enough to climb from his chest into his throat. He swallowed it down but it continued to rise. He couldn't calm it, not when his mind ran wild.
He considered abandoning all caution, being braver than she was capable of right now, taking this risk for her.
For him.
For them.
But he couldn't - wouldn't - push her. He understood why she couldn't take that risk.
Because this moment was fleeting. Tomorrow, they would act like nothing happened. And when they wrap up this case and head back to New York, she would be going home to Josh.
For now, however, he could play pretend. He could hold her close, sway in the silence and pretend she wasn't in love with another man.
For now, that would be enough.