A/N: For Alex - Happy Birthday!

pas de deux - a dance for two

The dance studio isn't locked, so Castle doesn't hesitate to enter. He's late, for the second time in three weeks, but the music is still blaring when he steps inside, still filling the small building with the pound of a fast paced, pop song. He assumes the teacher he met with briefly on Alexis's first day of class is just finishing up, but as he steps in closer, up to the glass door that separates the dance studio from the waiting area and changing rooms, he only sees two people on the floor.

His daughter and the beautiful woman she gushes about every Wednesday after he picks her up.

Castle practically presses his face to the glass barrier of the door, watching the tall brunette and his pint sized Alexis dancing in rhythm, nailing perfect leaps and turns with a sharp precision he's never witnessed until now. The style isn't exactly ballet - he supposes, because really, he doesn't know the first thing about dancing - but it's breathtaking. They both are.

"Tighten up on the turns," he hears the older woman instruct, her voice loud enough to be heard over the music, but not intimidating, not like he had feared when he had signed his daughter up for the classes she had begged for.

Alexis was still in her shy phase, always somewhat timid around others, especially those of authority, but she doesn't flinch at the command from this teacher, her expression remaining determined but calm as she follows the older woman's words, spinning at her side in unison as the song comes to a slow, dwindling towards completion.

"Keep those toes pointed, left knee bent," Kate Beckett calls out, all the while keeping her own movements precise but effortless, fluid as her body twists, gliding towards the mirror on harshly pointed toes.

The two of them come to a stop before the wall of mirrors lining the front of the room, Beckett continuing to coach, her voice growing softer through the fade of the music, and he studies his daughter, taking each gentle critique without a moment of hesitation, composing her face in an expression of serenity that matches her teacher's, as if playing a character in a story.

Maybe Alexis inherited some of his mother's acting skills after all, because whatever story his daughter and her instructor are telling through their actions, through their impressive jumps and striking pirouettes, he wants to know the meaning behind it.

The two hold the pose for a handful of seconds once silence has returned to the room, but as soon as Kate Beckett breaks her stance of stoicism, Alexis does too, a smile breaking out over her sweat glistened face, and then his daughter is throwing her arms around her teacher's waist, squealing in delight.

"I finally made it through without a single mistake!" Alexis exclaims, beaming up at her newfound mentor, a woman who's grinning down at her with matching excitement and a hint of pride, and if he thought Kate Beckett was gorgeous when she danced, he hadn't been at all prepared for the beauty of her smile.

"You did! I'm pretty sure you did better than me," Beckett tells her, patting her shoulder, causing Alexis to abruptly release Kate from the hug she had engulfed her in, the tinge of embarrassment turning the porcelain skin of his daughter's neck a subtle pink.

Alexis craved a reliable female figure in her life, he knew that, and he also knew that she had begun looking up to her dance teacher in a way that worried him. Because any woman Alexis had ever held in high regard in her short life had let her down, and while he didn't exactly know Kate Beckett, could never predict how she would handle such a role of admiration in his daughter's life, history had him anxious.

He was just so tired of seeing his baby bird disappointed.

"No way, no one's better than you, Ms. Beckett," Alexis chirps with a dismissive wave of her hand. "Do you think you could start teaching me a new routine soon?"

"Sure, but that doesn't mean we stop working on this one," Beckett answers, lifting her leg behind her and snagging the slim bone of her ankle, tugging her calf upwards in a stretch and nodding towards the ballet bar lining the back wall. "Now go relax those muscles."

Castle takes that as his moment, easing open the door and entering with a slow clap that startles them both. Oops.

"Amazing performance," he adds, noticing that this time, it's Ms. Beckett whose skin goes a little flush.

"Dad," Alexis groans, covering her face with her hands. "You're not supposed to watch us dance."

Ms. Beckett chuckles and nudges Alexis towards the bar. "Don't be embarrassed, Alexis. I'm sure your performance blew your dad away."

And it's the way the woman shoots him a threatening glare over his daughter's fiery red bun that has hope flaring in his gut. He's used that same look many times with Meredith, with Gina - the warning of don't you dare hurt her feelings.

Kate Beckett is protective of his child, she cares about her, and he has to admit, he was a bit smitten upon meeting her, but now he's entranced.

"Are you kidding? Pumpkin, you were incredible," Rick praises, bending to his knees as Alexis's eyes shine sapphire with elation and wow, he hasn't seen his daughter this happy in a while.

"She's also top of my class," Kate chimes in with a quirk of her lips. "Alexis has the kind of dedication a dancer needs to succeed and I'm lucky to have her."

The smile that claims his mouth has his cheeks aching while Alexis's turn the color of her hair at the commendation of her teacher, and as Castle tugs his daughter into a quick embrace, he offers Kate a wink of appreciation.

But the dance teacher merely nods before turning on silent feet and padding towards the small desk in the far corner of the room that holds what he assumes are her belongings, notes for the class, and a massive stereo. He tries very hard not to follow her retreating figure with his gaze, the lithe line of her body, the sinewy curves of her-

"Daddy," Alexis whispers, trapping his head between her tiny palms but there's a tiny grin playing on her lips. "It's not polite to stare."

Kate had met Mr. Castle once, during the early days of registration when he had strolled into her studio along with a slew of other eager parents, and signed his bashful little girl up for her weekly classes. Alexis had no history in dance, was not an avid trainee starving to perfect the sport and take her skill into the rigorous world of dance competition as most of her peers were. She was just a nine year old girl who had hoped to learn to dance like the beautiful ballerinas she had seen perform at her most recent viewing of the Nutcracker last Christmas.

But Alexis was a natural, possessing grace and coordination that is complicated for most girls her age to master, picking up on Kate's teachings on the first try, mimicking Beckett's movements with ease. The other girls tended to pick on her out of jealousy, her hourly sessions sometimes turning into a competition Kate did her best to dispel the moment she noticed. But it was after class, while they were waiting for her father, that Alexis seemed to have the most fun.

Richard Castle had been her favorite author for years, ever since her mom died and her father found comfort in a bottle while she found healing in her passion. Castle's words had kept her company during her years at Juilliard, soothing her shredded heart on the nights she yearned for her mother, reminding her that sometimes the good guys could still win.

Her first meeting with him had been brief, a whirlwind of polite smiles and talk of his daughter while they worked through the registration process in minutes. But now, after three months of training Alexis, she has learned that her favorite author is rarely on time.

Alexis always arrives before class starts, always early with time to spare that she spends stretching and warming up, but there have been far too many instances to count where Castle has returned late, sometimes by a few minutes, sometimes by a half hour.

In the beginning, it had irritated her, not because she minded - Alexis's was the last class of the day and at 5 p.m., she was in no hurry to get home to her empty apartment - but because it spoke of ill parenting. Alexis had assured her quickly, though, of how untrue that was when Kate voiced a soft spoken concern for the girl.

"Daddy just gets lost in his writing sometimes," his daughter had explained on the third occurrence of his overdue pickup habits. "He never means to do it, and he never forgets about the important things, like school or dinners. And he always takes a break from writing to play ballet with me if I ask him to."

She had helplessly softened at that, but it still didn't make her immune to the sight of his daughter sitting alone in the waiting area. So that same evening, Kate had called her back into the studio, taught her a routine she had choreographed for herself alone.

She had never intended to share the dance with anyone else, the meaning behind the steps personal, but with Alexis, she hadn't hesitated, and of course, the girl had been able to absorb the composition of movements, the underlying emotion effortlessly.

Alexis was everything she had been looking for in a student since she had opened her studio and over time, over dances and secret talks about absent mothers, she had formed a tenderness for her.

"Hey."

Kate glances over her shoulder to see Richard Castle approaching her desk, but doesn't pause in her unnecessary organization of CDs to give him her attention.

"Yes, Mr. Castle?"

"While Alexis is changing, I just wanted to thank you," he begins, standing close enough to allow her a breath of his aftershave, but far enough to respect her personal space.

"Oh, no you don't have to," Beckett assures him. "What she did was all a product of her own practice and dedication, she's-"

"Not just for that," Castle murmurs and Kate sets down the stack of instrumentals to face him, reading words unspoken in piercing blue eyes that are a shade sharper than his daughter's. "She just - she looks up to you, and she hasn't had many people to admire before."

Kate nods her understanding. She knows bits and pieces about that, about the disappointment of a mother that Alexis sometimes carries onto the dance floor with her.

"She's a good kid. Talented."

"I know she is," Castle smiles, the adoration illuminating his entire face, causing an inappropriate flare of heat to bloom within her abdomen. "But sometimes I don't think she does. So thank you for helping her see it."

"Dad," Alexis calls from the waiting area, her dance bag slung over her shoulder.

"It was nice to meet you again, Ms. Beckett," Castle offers, extending his hand, and Kate slips her fingers into the welcoming embrace of his palm before she can think better of it, bites her lip at the spread of warmth that consumes her hand, the soft hum of electricity trailing up the length of her arm.

"Likewise," she murmurs, withdrawing her hand and curling it around the edge of her desk, the worn hardwood cool in contrast. "And you can call me Kate."

His smile brightens. "Kate. I'll see you."

"See you," she nods, resisting the childish urge to twirl her finger through the stray strand of hair dangling free from the confines of her bun.

"Bye, Miss Beckett," Alexis calls over her shoulder once her father has joined her, waving as they move towards the door, and Kate waves back, though the sway of her hand falters for a split second when Castle snags her gaze on the way out onto the street.

She releases a deep breath once they're gone and she's left alone in the solitude of an empty studio. Her hand is still tingling, that strange sense of electricity on the tips of her fingers from his touch, and Kate shakes her head at the nonsense of it.

She's always had a silly crush on him, always spent a moment too long staring fondly at the picture on the back of his book jackets. She's just a little smitten with him, with the author who unknowingly helped her through hard times and the father who beams with pride for his daughter - that's all.

That has to be all.

Kate turns the stereo back on, cranks the music up a notch too loud, and forces herself to stop thinking about Richard Castle and concentrate on the lyrical she'll be teaching the girls next week, but it still doesn't stop her from fantasizing what it would be like to someday dance with him.

In the following weeks, Richard Castle shows up on time, promptly at 5 p.m., much to Alexis's dismay, but he doesn't collect his daughter to leave. He pays Kate for the weekly lesson and then takes a seat in the waiting room with his laptop, allows his daughter a half hour, sometimes longer, with her dance instructor.

Kate notices him watching sometimes, distracted from the word document always open on his laptop, his eyes riveted to her work with Alexis. Though, not always is his gaze proud and on his daughter, sometimes she catches his eyes trained on her. It has her fumbling every once in a while, the pressure of being studied while she's dancing, by him of all people, causing her to tense up, forcing her to make quick work of calming herself back into a relaxed state before Alexis can take notice.

"Mr. Castle," she summons after one of their post class sessions, sending Alexis to the changing rooms and drawing him into the studio with the crook of a finger.

"Yes, Kate?" he grins, always using her name like a guilty pleasure that has her rolling her eyes every time.

"I don't mind if you write here," she continues on, sipping from her water bottle to cool down after a particularly intense routine with Alexis. "But try to keep your attention on your screen."

Rick arches his brow at her, steps in closer even as she steps back.

"Why, Ms. Beckett, do I make you nervous?"

Kate huffs and crosses her arms, hyper aware of the way he appreciates her body in the tight fitting, black sports top. "No, I'm just sick of turning to my left and seeing your creepy staring."

"Creepy?" he echoes with indignation. "Come on now, that's harsh. Even for you."

"Dad, don't disturb Miss Beckett," Alexis sighs, coming up behind them in her street clothes with her dance bag slung over her shoulder, and Kate has to hide a laugh behind her hand at the deepening frown carving itself into Castle's mouth.

"Yeah Castle, stop disturbing me," she mimics, her coy smile refusing to be smothered when he spins back towards her.

"You two may be dance partners, but that does not mean that ganging up on me is warranted."

"Sure it is," Kate muses, snagging her jacket from her desk chair and slipping it over her dancewear. "It's too much fun to pass up."

"Speaking of fun," Castle grumbles, casting her a glare that has her smug grin growing before turning to Alexis. "Ice cream?"

Alexis bounces on her toes, clasping her hands together in approval at the idea. "Definitely."

"Would you like to join us, Kate?"

Beckett freezes, the two sets of bright and eager blue eyes trained and waiting on her, and oh, she wants to say yes, but going for a treat with a student and her father… was that even allowed?

"I don't know if-"

"Please, Miss Beckett," Alexis begs, the elegant, mature young dancer she knows giving way to the nine year old Kate sometimes forgets she is. "Daddy always takes me to the best secret places so no one will recognize him and they always have the best ice cream."

"Yeah, Beckett, don't you want to experience the best ice cream?" Castle joins in, smirking at her over Alexis's head and if she didn't have the smallest of soft spots for him, she would have grabbed his ear and twisted it by now.

"Fine," she sighs, earning a quiet squeal from Alexis and a far too satisfied grin from her father. "Just this once."

"Lead the way, Pumpkin," Castle chuckles, holding his arm out to Kate as Alexis skips ahead towards the exit, but Kate only rolls her eyes and strides past him.

This was not a date and she refused to treat it like one.

They take the car service to Alexis's favorite ice cream shop, mostly for Kate's comfort. The place isn't too far and it's unlikely that he would be recognized, but there's always the chance and the last thing he wants, the last thing his daughter and her dance teacher wants, is to be caught sight of by a fan or a camera. The paparazzi only seemed to garner interest in him when he was spotted with a woman, no matter how innocent the interaction, and he knew for certain that Kate would not handle that scenario well.

"Well, your back leg could go a little higher," he listens to Kate muse while his daughter hangs on her teacher's every word. "But otherwise, no. You've got it down."

"Good," Alexis sighs, slumping back in the seat between the two adults, and Castle chuckles. He has no idea which dance they're talking about, but the sport has brought out the perfectionist in his baby bird. Alexis has always been determined, strived to be the best, but never to this degree. He's not sure if he should be proud or concerned.

"Don't put so much pressure on yourself," Kate murmurs before Rick can comment, patting Alexis's knee and giving his daughter a gentle but understanding smile. "You're doing an amazing job and I know it's a lot of hard work, but it's supposed to be fun too."

"Yeah, Pumpkin," Castle chimes in. "It's like with my writing. I know you hear me complain a lot, but there's nothing else I would rather be doing."

"I never complain about anything as much as you complain about your writing, Daddy," Alexis points out, earning a smirk of amusement from her teacher.

"Thank you, Alexis," he huffs, unbuckling his seatbelt as they come to a stop in front of the parlor.

It's rather plain on the outside, all brick wall and nothing more than a chalkboard with ice cream flavors listed in multicolored chalk hanging in the window. But walking inside through the single glass door, being greeted by the soft jingle of bells and the smile of the employee on the other side of the bright pink counter exposes the true potential of the place.

"Wow, I can see why it's your favorite place, Alexis," Kate murmurs from his side and he watches his daughter grin with pride and trot up to the counter.

Alexis orders her ice cream, mint chocolate chip with extra sprinkles, and Castle places his hand on the small of Kate's back when they step forward for their turn, quickly withdrawing his palm at the ripple of tension up her spine.

"Sorry, wasn't thinking," he chuckles, doing his best to play it off, to dismiss the subtle flare of her eyes flickering towards him. Besides, it had been nothing more than an innocent touch, but… oh.

Her cheeks flush the color of the strawberry ice cream on display behind the glass window of flavors and her eyes blink away the simmer of heat, the burn of an attraction she attempts to sever with the shift of her body away from him, but the whisper of it that had blossomed across his palm remains, embedded into the lines of his hand.

So he wasn't alone in that then; she felt it too.

"Castle, you go first. I'm still looking," she prompts, nodding towards the waiting attendant behind the counter, trying and failing to hide her smirk as he sputters out his order for Rocky Road.

He'd known from the moment he'd first held Kate Beckett's hand in an innocent shake of greeting that he was screwed, the proof of it unfolding in his constant appearances at the studio over the last four weeks, realizing only recently that he had stopped showing up for only his daughter.

Kate places an order for coffee flavored ice cream and brushes back the bangs of Alexis's hair when his kid leans against her side, more comfortable around her dance teacher than she has been around anyone besides him and her grandmother for years now. And all he can think is that Kate Beckett is exactly what Alexis has needed and how he really wants to taste the flavor of coffee ice cream on her lips.

"Castle? You coming?" she calls and Rick blinks, lifts his gaze to the woman handing Alexis her ice cream and a napkin from the counter, prepared to follow her towards a booth near the back of the parlor.

"Of course," he quips, fishing out his wallet and handing the man at the register his card, grabbing his bowl while he waits and allowing the cold to seep into his palms, shock his senses back to reality.

But it fails to change the fact that his daughter is hopelessly smitten with her dance teacher, already attached, and she isn't the only one.

Kate does her best not to spend any more time with the Castles outside of the studio, marking up their treat for ice cream as a special occasion that isn't to be repeated. But after a month of weekly invitations that she politely declines and weak excuses that Alexis accepts without trouble but her father frowns in response to, Castle approaches her outside of the studio on a Monday morning with a mixture of trepidation and hope in his eyes that she doesn't quite understand.

"Kate?"

She pauses on the sidewalk, her keys to the building poised at the lock and her brow arching in question at the writer walking towards her, a gentle quirk to his lips and two coffees in hand.

"Hey, Rick," she greets, her smile small but true. She may be avoiding spending personal time with him, but it didn't mean her heart had stopped its ridiculous habit of fluttering every time he walked into a room, said her name. "It's eight a.m., what are you doing here?"

"I was just hoping we could talk," he answers, holding out the to go cup for her, hunching his shoulders against the cold when the wind swirls past them, whispers along his exposed neck and nips at her cheeks. "Preferably inside."

She grins and accepts the warm beverage, clutching it to her chest as she unlocks the doors and tucks her keys into the pocket of her coat.

"You have my phone number," she points out, nudging the door open with her shoulder and nodding her head for him to follow her in. "Which you take advantage of pretty frequently."

It went against her rules of keeping things strictly professional, but Castle called her rather regularly, always finding an excuse for the contact - inquiring about a concern Alexis had regarding her routine, asking for her thoughts on a chapter he just couldn't get past, for her help in plotting a fake murder.

She's started to look forward to those phone calls, hates herself for how much she enjoys the bright spots of conversation in her otherwise dark and quiet nights.

"True, but there's less of a chance for you to hang up on me if we talk in person," he grins and Kate rolls her eyes, leads him down a short hallway opposite of the girls' changing rooms, into the private space of her office. Castle's eyes roam the room, quaint but cozy with only her desk, a shelf against the wall that is packed with books and extra CDs, a row of her dance shoes along the bottom. "Hey, I didn't know you had this too."

"My desk in the studio is just for immediate access, so I don't have to leave the room when I have students here," she explains, depositing her purse into the bottom drawer of her desk and shrugging the coat from her shoulders to drape across her chair. "And I wouldn't hang up on you. Never have before."

"You say that now," he muses, shoving his hands in his pockets and letting his gaze linger on her graduate's degree from Juilliard on the wall.

"Well, what is it you need to talk about that has you fearing a dead line of connection?" she challenges, relishing silently in the impressed arch of his brow.

"Good sentence structure. Oddly arousing. Well, no, not odd at all actually-"

"Castle."

"I just came to ask if I – made you uncomfortable," he gets out, his ears turning a subtle shade of pink in the soft lamp light of her office, his lips pursed as he awaits her answer, but Kate's brow only furrows.

"Uncomfortable?" she echoes, tilting her head in confusion. "When do you think you did that?"

Castle rubs at the back of his neck and shifts in front of her desk.

"When we went out for ice cream with Alexis a few weeks ago." Oh, he's - he was still thinking about that? How she'd bristled at his touch because she couldn't handle the pleasant warmth of his hand at her back? "My kid doesn't notice anything, is just glad you came with us that once, and I'm sorry if I've been… persistent in inviting you out to dinners and whatnot with us since then-"

"Rick," she sighs, shaking her head and drifting around the side of her desk as the guilt blooms through her stomach at the misunderstanding. She had only meant to keep things platonic, refrain from taking any risks of making things personal with this family, with a little girl who looked at her with far too much light in her eyes and a man who stared at her with a different kind of illumination in his gaze. "You haven't made me uncomfortable at all."

He slumps with relief, but she can tell there are more questions to follow, more explanations to be given, so she beats him to the point.

"I just didn't want to make it a habit, you know? Didn't want to have Alexis become used to having me around so frequently outside of class," she murmurs, but by the crease that overtakes his brow this time, the downwards curve to his lips, he doesn't seem to fully understand.

"Do you not… plan to see us again after the class wraps up?"

She opens her mouth to deny it, but well, she doesn't know if he's wrong. "I – I don't know, Castle. I'm not sure if-"

"So you're planning to disappear on her too?"

Kate's jaw falls, her lips parting, and a surprising sting of hurt zigzags through her chest, but Castle is quickly waving his hands in supplication, squeezing his eyes shut. "No, that was all wrong, out of line, and it's not your responsibility – you're just her dance teacher. I'm sorry. I just meant-"

"I'm not blind, Castle," she cuts in, expelling a frustrated breath, not for him, but herself. She can easily comprehend why he's wary of her - and anyone else, really - when it comes to Alexis's sake, why he doubts her with such ease, and as much as she wishes she could, she can't really offer him a reason not to. "Alexis isn't just some throwaway kid I plan to teach for a semester and never see again, but I'm also aware of the fact that after classes wrap for this season, she likely won't see me quite as often and I don't want that to be a difficult adjustment for her."

"We could just keep seeing you every week then," he shrugs, regaining his composure, his confidence, but Kate runs a hand through her hair and purses her lips.

"You just don't get it-"

"Yes, I do. Why do you think I'm here?" he questions, stepping closer even as she crosses her arms over her chest, defenses rising with his every footstep. "I'm not blind either, Kate. I know you care about my kid and I know you want to see her hurt again about as much as I do. It's why you don't want to be around me."

"Excuse me?"

"If you're even half as attracted to me as I am to you-"

"Castle, that's enough." Kate lifts a hand to stop him, silence him before she tells him to go, but he snags her fingers, forces her to feel the pulse of electricity that jolts to life at the simple touch, the frissons of it that twine through her veins and sizzle through her blood, a gentle sensation that's eager to grow.

"Every time I look at you, watch you dance… there have been so many times that you've left me without words, Kate. Not great for a man of my profession," he confesses and she nearly chokes on the strangled shard of laughter that catches in her throat. "You're smart and clever, obviously gorgeous, and you're so good to my daughter. You and these classes are the best thing that's happened to us in so long."

"Rick," she sighs, closing her eyes, unsure how they ended up here.

She's been teaching Alexis for months now, has known Castle for only one of them, but he isn't necessarily wrong in the existence of the sparks that crackle when they're together. The connection's always been there, a current between them that she's never experienced with any other man, a sensation that's only outshined by the passion that accompanies her through her dancing.

"I'm not asking you for anything, I just – I like you, Kate. A lot," he murmurs and she bites down on her bottom lip, opens her eyes to the graze of his fingertips kissing the bone of her cheek. "But regardless of whether or not you feel the same, you care more about my kid's heart, and that's… that's everything to me."

The blues of his eyes burn like flames, fierce but warm, flickering down at her with golden flecks of affection like embers in the fire.

"Your friendship is more than enough."

She squares her jaw to keep it from trembling, averts her eyes to the surface of her desk, the lone picture frame, the photo of her mother.

"I can't," she breathes, shaking her head and blinking against the sting in her eyes. "I'm not good for you, Alexis, I'm – you don't understand."

How broken she is, how she could ruin him so easily, leave him and his daughter in the wreckage of her grief. They wouldn't be the first. At her job, she was brilliant, losing herself in the art of dance, the passion of teaching it, but in her personal life… god, she's a mess. It's why she hardly has one.

"Kate," he calls softly, his hand unfurling at her cheek, thumb stroking ever so softly below her eye. "There's no way you're not good for me and Alexis."

"I'm too damaged," she rasps, blinking away the burn in her eyes, refusing to let his thumb catch her tears. "After my mom… when she was murdered a few years ago, everything changed and I'm just – not good at caring about people, having people care about me."

She purses her lips again to ensure they remain steady and swallows hard, prepares for him to release her, to offer his condolences and utter lack of understanding, to join old friends, family members, Will, in exasperation.

"I can't help you if you don't want to be helped, Kate. If you can't let it go," Will had told her when he'd left her for Boston and she'd refused to come with him.

And he was right, to an extent. She couldn't simply let go of her mother's murder, of needing the closure but having no idea how to get it aside from quitting a job she loves and joining the Police Academy. Or simply attempting to solve the murder on her own time, which hadn't ended well the last time.

Her father is the only one who knows, who comprehends her grief and obsession with ease, still recovering from his own fall down the rabbit hole of a liquor bottle.

But Castle surprises her, merely leans forward, drops his forehead to hers in a gesture so foreign but comforting that she hooks her fingers at his wrist, brushes her thumb to the thin skin sealed over his pulse to keep him there, make him stay.

It's been so long since she wanted someone to stick around. So much so that the thought of not seeing him and Alexis threatens to carve a piece of her heart out.

"I'm sure this is the cliff notes version, but Alexis told me a little about your mom, how you don't have one, and how dance helps you like it helps her," he murmurs. "It doesn't fix it, doesn't take away the pain I can't imagine you're living with, but it sounds like it's a part of healing in the best way you can. You're living with the grief of a tragedy, channeling some of that into your work, and helping other people cope with their own hurt. You're not damaged, Kate. You're pretty damn extraordinary."

All she has to do is tilt her chin upwards, dislodge the seal of their foreheads, to brush her lips over his, feeling her cracked heart pounding hard through the cage of her ribs, rattling her lungs as his breath stains her skin, his mouth just barely pressing against hers. It's only a whisper of a kiss, a touch of lips, gratitude she hopes he can taste in the brief connection of mouths, but it has her yearning for so much more.

"Not very hard to care about you either," he adds, his voice a low husk that heats her blood, and Kate nudges her nose to his cheek, raises her unoccupied hand to his nape.

"Friends," she decides, even as her lips rasp against the corner of his mouth while she speaks. "For now."

His smile blooms, spreading onto her lips, and she finally withdraws to lift her gaze, study the warmth in his eyes, the adoration lining his mouth, and for just a moment she lets herself believe in this, in something real and good with Castle, in the ease of heartache he and Alexis so often bring.

"Friends who kiss sometimes?" he muses, waggling his eyebrows at her, and she huffs, hides her amusement behind the waves of her hair as she shoves him away.

"Pushing it."

But she wouldn't necessarily object to working towards the kissing becoming a regular occurrence.