He enters her loft, hearing music drifting out from her bedroom.

It isn't the blaring loud music she likes when she's working out and it isn't the soft jazz she sometimes does paperwork to. Actually the sound quality is pretty awful, like something his mother used to listen to when he was a kid.

He puts the takeout on the counter, calling out her name but gets no response.

He heads towards her room and finds her sitting on the floor with her back to him. Her hair up in a messy ponytail, shirt hanging off one shoulder, legs folded underneath her. He calls her name again softly and she answers with a "Hmmm"

He takes in the sight in front of him.

There she sits, on the floor, staring at an old 45 record player, two cases filled with 45's open in front of her. Some scattered around before her.

He sits down behind her, pulling her up into his lap and wrapping his arms around her waist.

"I forgot I still had these," Kate says softly, "They must have been down in storage when my place blew up and when I moved in here I just shoved the box in the back of my closet."

She's going through them reverently, touching at each, missing pieces of her past. He leans in closer, reading the titles along with her and takes in the different reactions that play across her face as she reads the titles.

"They were my Mom's and sometimes on a Saturday night she'd pull this stuff out and she'd teach me all these crazy dances. " she smiles, imagining holding her mom's hand, listening to Chubby Checker and dancing The Twist .

"My Dad would just stand there smiling and laughing at his 'two favorite girls'."

Castle closes his eyes picturing Kate as a little girl, her hair in pigtails, giggling, holding hands and dancing with her mom..

"Then Dad would come over, making a big show of searching through the records, until he found the one that they'd danced to the first night he worked up the courage to ask her out." She sighs, then continues "He'd lovingly remove it from its cover then carefully put it on the record player."

Castle smiles as she talks, listening intently. "Mom would watch him, remembering that moment, then he'd hold out his hand, saying the words he'd spoken to her that night, 'Johanna, may I have this dance?'" Kate's eyes get misty as she thinks back, remembering the look of love that always flowed so easily between her parents.

"Mom would smile and answer "Only if you promise not to step on my toes" and they would both laugh. He'd take her hand pressing a gentle kiss against it, then they would slow dance around the living room, lost in their own little memory."

Castle smiles, remembering the first dance he and Kate had shared. How he worked so hard not to do the exact same thing.

"I'd watch knowing that's the type of love I wanted with someone". Kate turns her head, looking into his eyes finishing with "The one and done type of relationship".

He leans down, kissing her. "What was their song?" He whispers into her ear, getting up and stepping around her, searching through the titles until he finds the one she says.

Castle carefully places it on the player, gently lowering the arm down until the needle makes contact with the record. The music starts to play and he stretches out his left arm towards her. "Kate, may I have this dance?" he asks.

She stands, taking his hand and they move together.

Always in sync, her head resting against his shoulder, their fingers intertwined between their hearts. He wraps his arm around her, gently rubbing soothing circles across her back as she tucks her arm under his, wrapping around his waist, holding him close.

Then they dance.

A serene smile covers both their faces.

His for having her to love and how well the song fits their own relationship.

Her's for how grateful she is for this new memory and especially for having this amazing man to love.