Dark Enough

When it is dark enough, you can see the stars.
-Ralph Waldo Emerson

"Wait. The dress?" Castle shifts away from her, which is entirely too bad, because when Beckett thinks she's got to apologize to him, her kiss is always so soft, so rich and tender, as if she's pouring all of her need for forgiveness out into that one-

"The dress," Kate hums, her fingers playing with the hem of his sleeve and dabbling in his palm. "That dress."

"Wait, the dress you modeled?" he says, lifting both eyebrows. "Well, then. Where do I need to send the check?"

"She gave it to me." Kate bites her lip, her grin spreading despite those teeth trying to anchor it down.

"She gave it to you," he repeats, a little awed by how Kate - sparkles. Like starshine. His voice is rough when he can finally get out his next question. "Do I get to see it?" If it does that to her now, even after the sorrow of her mother not being a part of things, then it must be some dress.

She shakes her head back and forth slowly, still smiling.

"Not even a little?"

"It's a surprise," she murmurs. Some dart of anxiety crosses her face. "I hope you like it. It's not - it's different. It's not the stuff in those bridal magazines."

"If you love it, I don't care what it looks like," he rumbles. He can't help clutching her knee a little tighter. "Probably only going to be looking at your face, just to keep me standing."

She grins and curls both feet onto his couch, leaning in against him. "It's beautiful. I feel like - like a ballerina."

"A - ballerina?" Somehow he - no. "What happened to 'all these bridal magazines are girly'?"

"No, not like that," she huffs. "Like Swan Lake. Or like - a space-age ballerina."

Swan Lake and space-age do not really... "Are you messing with me?"

"No. I'm serious." She lifts her head to look at him, brow furrowing. "It's - it really is gorgeous. I feel gorgeous in it."

"You're going with space-age? Does this mean we've officially decided on a new spring venue?"

"A new venue?"

"Space-age?"

"Oh," she laughs, dropping her head to his shoulder and plucking his hand from her knee, cradling his arm in her lap. "No. I'm not maneuvering around in zero-g and having our first kiss as man and wife be through a helmet's visor."

"But our first dance could be the moonwalk. Literally."

"No," she grumbles, elbowing him a little. "Besides, you couldn't possibly get that booked by this spring anyway. So it's automatically on the rejection pile."

"No, I could... I don't think I could," he admits, sighing. He drops his chin to the top of her head and watches the way she plays with his hand. She's rubbing her thumb over and over his ring finger - wrong hand, but it's interesting, her mind working its way around this.

"But, you know," she murmurs. "Why couldn't it be... space themed? As a compromise."

"Space... themed?"

Kate hastily sits up, holding out a hand. "Now, wait. Before you start. I'm not saying some cheesy prom theme. But like - with space in mind. Silver and blue for our colors, a little black here and there, white lights from the ceiling at the reception..."

"Diamonds and velvet," he murmurs, smiling now as her eyes light up like the night sky itself. "The centerpieces could be shadow lanterns, the reception hall could be dimmed so twinkle lights come on..."

"Not too much though," she warns. "Just a subtle influence. And then that takes care of the invitations too - just plain silver."

"On black?"

She wrinkles her nose. "I don't know. Maybe? Navy and silver?"

"Midnight blue," he grins, getting excited now at the all the opportunities. "Is this because we're destined?"

"Destined?" she laughs.

"Written in the stars?"

"Oh, no," she groans. "Don't get sappy about the universe."

"No, never," he promises. "But that's how I'm going to think of it. Since we can't actually get married in space."

"But is that - do you like that idea?"

"Yeah," he says, kissing her cheek to punctuate how much he likes it. "Frees us up, because you're right - a lot of the decisions get made. This is going to be fun."

"Or at least are easier to make." She turns into him and wraps her arms around his neck. "Not over the top, Rick. Not Star Wars, not Star Trek-"

"Not Nebula 9?"

She groans and knocks her forehead against his. "Not sci-fi - just... space."

"Not space," he grimaces with an exaggerated twist of his lips. "I'm not a fan of you asking for space. How about we call our theme stars?"

"I'm not a fan of you asking for space, either," she mutters, turning her head to nip at his ear. "So now no more pestering me about getting married in space. Or honeymooning on the actual moon. No more. Got it?"

"Fine." He rubs his thumb at her hip and has a brilliant idea. "You know. If it was space cowboy, then I don't even need a tux. I've got-"

"No."

"But it's-"

"Absolutely no tv shows. This isn't cosplay."

"Too bad."

"Because I still own that Creaver mask, and I can-"

"No, no, no," he says urgently, stilling her with a hand at her neck and a quick kiss. "I'm good. No tv shows. Please. We'll stick with the stars." He kisses her again, anxious to divert that thought of creavers, and her mouth gentles under his like an apology.

She can probably feel how hard his heart rate kicked up on that one.

"So where is this space-age ballerina dress?" he murmurs, brushing his lips softly over hers, back and forth in that way that makes her restless.

"Not gonna see it, Rick." She pushes in to deepen the kiss and he backs off, keeping it light.

"Then tell me more about how much your mom would love me."

She laughs, hooking her arms tighter around his neck as she leans back to look at him. "Oh?"

"Yes, of course, back to me. Tell me everything she'd love. What about me first?"

Kate can totally see right through him - when has she not - but she plays along, pulling one arm down to slide her palm at his chest and toy with the material of his shirt.

"Well," she draws out slowly. "She'd love how you make me laugh."

"Oh, that's a given."

"And... she'd find it hilarious that you were older than me."

"Oh?" This actually is sounding pretty interesting.

"Just-" Kate shrugs and doesn't offer an explanation. "That you make me lighter but you keep me grounded."

"Can a person really do both?" he says flippantly, but then he hears himself and he sighs. "Yeah, that's a ditto."

"A ditto?"

"You too. Me too. Whatever. What else? More of all the ways your mother would have loved me."

"This right here," she says softly, and then her lips glide against his cheek and move to the corner of his mouth, so light, so purposeful, on a mission.

"Your mother would love how I kiss you? Or wait, maybe this is how you kiss me."

She laughs and it tumbles into his own mouth, down his throat to make his chest warm. He smiles wider and wraps both arms around her, pulls her in close.

"You kiss me like you know me," she says to that, still teasing him with that scant, barely-there distance. "And yeah, she would love you for that too. For all of this. For asking me about her because I needed it."

She slides her model-worthy thigh over his lap and settles in to face him, fingers running through his hair as she smiles. He watches her too, how she looks at him now, how it's not something trapped behind impossibly high walls any longer but a part of their lives, give and take.

If he really had met her mother, if her mother was here, he wants to believe they'd still be getting married. He wants - fervently - for this woman to be his future in all the alternate universes, for them to be written immutably in the stars.

For this universe, he'll be more than happy with a space-age ballerina dress and a not-cheesy stars theme - because Beckett is the one wearing the dress, because Kate is marrying him under those stars.

Because it's taken them a while, and nothing for them is ever easy, but Kate is going to marry him.