This is from a story I abandoned a little while ago.
But it fits in with my Caskett kisses so... here you go!
The ending is a little abrupt because, as I said, this is pulled from an abandoned fic.
Enjoy : )
There was something about weddings. Something that couldn't quite be put into words. There was something so truly poetic about the fact that two people, standing side by side, watching the same scene play out in from of them, could feel such contrasting emotions.
She watched on as her friends danced their first dance, with tearful eyes and a beaming smile. So proud, so overjoyed, so filled with optimism and hope.
He watched on as his friends danced their first dance, with tearful eyes and a painfully forced smile. The envy tight in his throat as he swallowed down the disappointment of his unrequited love sitting beside him, blissfully ignorant to the loss that he felt every time she was near, every time she was far.
Slowly, the audience around them began to break off, pairing up to join the newlyweds as they moved across the dance floor. He knew what was coming, had tried to be prepared for it. But nothing could have prepared him for her allure: her sweet floral scent that lingered in the air, the dress that hugged her body, the lightness in the way she walked or the extra sparkle in her eyes, in her smile. And now, here she was, standing too close to him, looking up at him expectantly.
"Dance with me?" She smiled softly, a feigned shyness.
Because, why would she be shy? She knew he wouldn't say no. He wanted to say no - because he knew a simple dance could be so, so dangerous - but he wouldn't. Couldn't.
He nodded his head, unable to form the words. Her smile widened as she placed her hand in between them. He took it in his without hesitation, leading her to the dance floor.
She stepped closer, placing her free hand on his chest as he pressed the flat of his palm to her lower back. Together they swayed.
After a few moments, she rested her head against his chest. He was sure she could hear the rapid pounding of his heartbeat, but she didn't mention it, she just held him closer letting out a deep breath.
"Something is wrong," she whispered into him.
Very wrong. He was falling, falling into this trap, trusting something he knew he shouldn't. He was a addict, gambling his recovery on a chance to hold her close. And he was slipping, his heart swelling. Stupidly, he was believing that just maybe she felt the same way.
Yes, a simple dance could be so, so dangerous for those harbouring secrets.
She pulled away from him, all the hope she had felt was draining from her as she looked into his eyes. Ocean blue, and full of despair.
"Have I done something wrong?"
The break in her voice betrayed her, showed the cards she was clutching close to her chest: her heart was breaking. Tears prickled behind her eyes, threatening to spill her secret.
"You haven't done anything wrong," he said, turning his head away from her.
She placed two fingers to the side of his chin, forcing his attention back to her.
"Then why won't you look at me?"
She softened her touch, smoothed her fingertips across his clean-shaven jawline.
His silence was killing her. As the world around them swayed to the music, they stood perfectly frozen in time.
"I'm sorry," he whispered, breaking her trance.
She stood, her feet stuck firmly in place as he weaved through wedding guests and made his way off the dance floor.
The room spun, her head light and hazy.
"Castle!" She forced her feet to move, following the path he had cleared through the crowd. "Castle, wait!"
She followed him from the ballroom, onto the balcony, before finally catching up to him. She reached for him, grabbing his wrist and pulling back, forcing him to stop.
"I'm sorry," he repeated, busy eyes avoiding hers as she searched his face for clarity.
"Sorry for what, Castle?"
"I don't think I can do this anymore," he confessed.
"Do what?"
He looked deep into her eyes and she could see the world of pain he had been trying to hide.
"Pretend I don't love you."
She dropped her hand from his wrist, reeling from the confession. She didn't know how to respond, didn't realise he had been pretending.
She felt his love for her every day; in the coffee he brought her, in the way he backed her every play, the gentle support he offered each day of her recovery, in the victories and the losses that they shared.
"I never asked you to pretend," she whispered, the words coming out of their own accord.
"It was implied when you lied about not remembering," he deadpanned.
Her heart leapt into her throat.
"I know you, Kate. I know when you're lying," he explained.
She shook her head. "Why didn't you say anything?"
"Believe it or not, I know how to take a hint."
"It wasn't a hint. It-" she stuttered, fumbling for the words. The right words. "I wasn't ready then."
"And now?"
Her heart was pounding furiously. And now?
"Castle..."
He rolled his eyes, turned away. He knew that tone of voice. That I'm trying to let you down easy tone of voice.
She grabbed his wrist and pulled him back toward her. As his body turned she stepped forward, crashing into him; her hungry mouth melded into his.
As she ran her hands through his hair, his hands slid down the curve of her waist, resting on her hips and pulling her closer.
As the cool evening air swirled around them, his body pressed against hers ignited the burning passion she had been so desperately trying to keep buried.
His tongue dragged along her lip, vehement in it's request and she gladly allowed him in.
The sweet and smoky taste of whiskey flooded her senses; a timely reminder that they had both consumed their fair share of the beverage during the course of the night. She pressed her palms firmly to his chest and pulled away from him.
"I'm sorry, I shouldn't have-"
"No," he began to plead, but it was too late.
She shook her head and tears filled her eyes. "We can talk about this tomorrow, when we are both thinking clearly."
He stared, considering his options. She was running - he knew there was nothing he could do to stop that.
So he nodded and hoped for the best. "Tomorrow," he agreed.