Another little S2 shot.

She hadn't really wanted to go, but he insisted. She only had paperwork to offer as an excuse and he refused to take no for an answer, kept pushing. And it's not that she was adverse to his company, quite the opposite, although she would never admit it.

But.

She'd gotten enough of the lovesick looks he'd thrown his ex-girlfriend's way lately and Kate really wasn't in the mood to watch him pine for Kyra at her own wedding, for God's sake.

But he didn't want to go alone, thought it would look bad after everything that transpired between him and Kyra's fiancée, the arguments and the jealousy. So she eventually agreed, pushed the nagging jealousy to the back of her mind temporarily.

Jealous. She hates the way it sounds, even in her head. Sound so petty, so not Kate Beckett. She doesn't get jealous and it makes no sense that the feeling surfaces for the most infuriating, annoying man she's ever crossed paths with.

She thinks she hates him a little bit for the way he makes her feel.

Because now she's dressed up, soft in a light blouse and dress pants, clapping and catching the bouquet at the love of his life's wedding to another man. But as a laugh echoes out of her she looks over at him and doesn't see a single trace of sadness or regret. He's pleased, amused, and kinda happy.

She's ready to go after the ceremony, doesn't want to linger any longer than she should, than he should. But he convinces her to stay for at least another hour to try the shrimp cocktail and the red velvet cake. And she hasn't eaten in hours…

Just an hour.

"Its divine," she hums around a mouthful of scrumptious dessert.

He smiles, his eyes crinkling at the corners. "Heavenly," he confirms, wrapping his mouth around his fork. He licks the frosting from his lips, but a spot lingers just above his lip.

"You've got a little…" She gestures to her face, rubs a finger over the spot.

"Hmm?" he asks, playing dumb. She makes the motion again, but he still pretends to be confused. She rolls her eyes and decides to indulge him just this once. She flicks her thumb slowly over his philtrum and brings it to her lips, sucking the frosting from the pad of her thumb. She smirks, delighted as his eyes darken a fraction.

She's having way too much fun with this, can feel herself edging into dangerous territory.

When their forks have clattered to their plates and she realizes that it's been over an hour, he surprises her.

"Dance with me," he says suddenly.

She quirks an eyebrow. Definitely dangerous territory.

She shakes her head. "Hour's up, Castle. I'm going home," she says, tossing her napkin onto her plate.

"It'll be fun," he promises. Then, off her look, "Can't you just indulge me for once, Beckett?"

She huffs a laugh. "For once? You're joking, right?" She shakes her head, rolling her eyes as she pushes her chair back from the small table.

"Just one and then we'll go," he says. "Besides, don't you feel just a little bit sorry for me?"

She crosses her arms across her chest. "A pity dance, Castle, really? Even you can do better than that."

"I'll take that as a yes." And then he's on his feet, holding his hand out to her and she hesitates, which is such a mistake and she knows better. He smiles knowingly, the fingers in his open palm twitching in invitation.

Oh, what the hell.

She takes his hand, lets him lead her out onto the dance floor where they're joined by a few other couples, the bride and groom included. She keeps one of her hands in his and curls the other over his shoulder. His hand settles at her waist, his fingers slipping against the material of her blouse.

She maintains a respectable distance from him, doesn't trust herself to be too close to him, not when she's given in to him at every point this evening.

"I won't bite, Detective," he teases.

"Quit your bellyaching, Castle. I'm dancing with you, aren't I?" she retorts.

He chuckles. "Fair enough."

The music is a little too dull, a little too listless for her taste, but she almost doesn't notice as they move around their spot on the floor, quiet and content. He's a good dancer; she noticed that in their first year together when they attended the gala together for a case. He's smooth, but not obnoxious, so she lets him lead.

Her gaze drifts to the rest of the floor for a moment, her eyes drawn to the newlyweds, enclosed and enraptured in each other's arms. She admits that she doesn't really understand Kyra's pull to Castle when she's so in love with her husband. And then she remembers Will and the fact that old flames die hard, even when you've fallen out of love.

She looks over at Castle, finds him staring at them a little, too.

"You okay?" she prods gently, nudging him with their clasped hands.

His eyes snap to hers. "Yeah. I'm good." He smiles.

She cocks her head, not sure if she believes him. "You sure? Must be hard for you," she surmises.

"It was at first," he admits. "But we've been over for a long time and we aren't the same people that we were then."

"Do you wish you were?" she asks, her curiosity overwhelming her filter.

"I love my life the way it is. If Kyra and I hadn't split up, I wouldn't be where I am today."

She nods slowly, tugs her bottom lip between her teeth. "And where is that?"

"I wouldn't have had Alexis. Probably wouldn't be writing Nikki Heat." He swallows. "Or shadowing you, for that matter."

She feels a blush creep its way up her neck at his insinuation. "And I've gotten used to having you around," she hedges.

He smirks, inches just a little closer to her. "I knew you enjoyed my company," he boasts.

She narrows her eyes. "That's not what I said."

"But it's what you meant."

She huffs and turns her head away from him, aware that he'll notice she doesn't deny it, but hopes he won't call her out on it.

He starts to slip his hand from her waist as his fingers loosen from their tangled hands.

"What are you doing?"

"One dance, remember? The song's over, Beckett," he says, a little amused.

One of her hands fusses with her hair, tucking it behind her ear. She clears her throat. "Right."

"But hey, if you're not ready to go." He eagerly reaches for her, this time sliding both of his hands around her waist, eliminating most of the space between them.

"Castle," she says in exasperation, her hands hanging limply at her sides.

"Kate," he throws back, the use of her first name catching her off guard.

"Quit first naming me," she grumbles.

"Why? It suits you. Kate." She likes the way it sounds, but can't admit it because then he'll insist that she call him Rick and that's just way too intimate at this stage and she can't—

Oh, geez. She's not shaking him anytime soon, is she?

"I'll start calling you Mr. Rodgers," she swears, a teasing glint in her eye.

"Totally uncalled for, Beckett."

She rewards him by rejoining him in their dance, her hands skimming across his shoulders to circle his neck. He smirks, raising his eyebrows in question.

"I'm just indulging you," she explains quickly.

And then her heart's thudding in her chest as he leans in to skate his lips briefly across her cheek, his mouth lingering just at her ear.

"Sure you are, Kate. Sure you are."

Finis.

Thoughts?

Olivia