Bucket List

Rick Castle isn't thinking about much more than finding a costume - a superlative and original costume - for his Halloween party when he unlocks the door, jostles the dry cleaning under his arm, and then finds the note.

Parchment. Sealed with red wax. Propped up on his entry table.

Huh.

That's. . .usually his kind of thing.

Actually. He sorta was thinking some kind of literary thing with Edgar Allen Poe, but ah, no, he did that already-

Heh. This is cool. Really well done too.

He slides his finger under the seal over the triangle flap, painstakingly, enjoying the slow reveal. The parchment unfolds and the dark writing is in actual calligraphy.

You Are Invited

As he reads the details, his mouth drops open.

The dry cleaning clatters to the floor.

He's already calling her, his heart pounding in his throat and making it almost impossible to breathe, when the knock raps sharply at his door.

"Kate," he gasps, pulling it open on his guess to find he's right.

She grins languidly, wickedly, and saunters inside. Her hands come to his chest, fingers slipping under his jacket and making erotic designs. He's trembling like a teenager.

"You get the invitation?" she murmurs, lifting an eyebrow.

He sucks in a breath, hears his own wheeze, can't even care how utterly destroyed, utterly destroyed he is when it comes to her.

"Castle. . ."

"How. What. How-"

He gulps hard and her hand trails down to tuck in his belt, her eyes dark on his as she comes closer. Her mouth hovers over his; he can feel her hot breath against his lips, can't feel much else.

"It's on your list, Castle."

He blinks to restore his equilibrium, but it doesn't help. He's beyond scattered; he's seriously compromised by the feel of her hand fiddling with his belt buckle and her mouth. . .

"You do remember your list?" she says throatily.

He nods automatically, then swallows again, has to clear his throat before anything will come out at all.

"I - yeah. Remember. I remember. But I didn't think you'd seen that list." He finally finds her eyes with his, regains some measure of control as he crowds into her body with a brush of his lips just past hers, skirting her jaw to her ear. "The list of all the things I want to do to you."

She huffs, but he feels the hitch in her breathing and grins darkly, wrapping an arm around her waist and drawing her hips sharply against his.

She gasps and he feels her grin against his cheek, her fingers sliding around his neck and curling through his hair. He loves that, the possessive touch of her hand at his nape. She angles him just right and dives into his mouth, her tongue stroking over his lips and inside.

He hums and draws her closer, slow dancing her away from the door and back towards his bedroom. She hasn't even moved in yet, but she said yes in Paris and she keeps mentioning when we get married, and she's just so very sexy.

So very sexy.

"Castle," she murmurs into his mouth, takes a nip of his bottom lip as she walks backward along the hall, his body eagerly canting after her. "You wanna go to that party?"

"I. . .I want you." He feels her fingers tangle in his as she tugs him towards his bedroom.

"That can be arranged," she grins, her eyes feral and her body seduction.

"Yeah. That. Let's do that."

"Then we're both gonna need a mask."

A mask.

For an Eyes Wide Shut party.

Kate Beckett is gonna kill him dead.

"Stop fidgeting," she tells him sharply, a hand pressed to his knee as she peers into the night through the cab window. The square of paper with the address shimmers between her fingers every time they pass a streetlight, a tantalizing glimpse of white that squeezes his insides. Castle swallows and tries to hold still, not move.

His clothes feel too tight. He rubs his sweaty palm onto his pants; the fabric feels wrong, even though this is a designer suit that he's paid an indecent amount of money for.

He distracts himself by mirroring Kate, looking through his own window. The neighborhood they're in seems surprisingly quiet, a row of stately houses lining the street. A little pretentious for his taste, but that's probably the idea.

Intimidate outsiders enough so that they'll mind their own business. No questions asked.

"We're here," Kate says suddenly, just as the driver pulls up.

Castle leans into her lap, trying to peek at the house, but she gives him a look, pushes back on his shoulder and reaches for her purse.

While she pays for the ride, he lets his fingers skim the soft, dark material of the dress she's wearing. Her body instantly ripples at his touch, muscles bunching, and he can't help but wonder - not for the first time - if she's wearing anything under it. Probably not, huh?

Eyes Wide Shut party.

It's been a while since the last time he's seen the movie, but he remembers it well enough. The ritual ceremony, the circle of naked women, their masked faces touching in a parody of a kiss.

Shit. Kate.

What the hell are they doing?

"Out," she hisses, poking his side, and he automatically opens the door, slides out of the car. The cool night air hits him, a relief to his overworked senses; he closes his eyes, takes a deep breath.

He can do this.

It's fun, it's actually on his bucket list, and his girlfriend - his fiancée - seems to be up for it. What is he so anxious about? He should be trembling with excitement right now.

"Castle?"

He jerks his head back to her, finds her slipping out of the cab, eyebrows lifted questioningly. Stepping back to her, he gives her a smile, brushing their lips together when he reaches her side. Her heels make it easy, and her fingers slide across his neck in response, send a shiver of pleasure through him.

"Come on," she says softly, eyes glittering in the darkness. She gives him one of those small, mysterious smiles, lips pressed and eyelashes fluttering, and her hand trails down to his.

She tangles their fingers, her touch just as gentle as that night, the night after their first huge fight, when she came to find him at his loft and they made up - rather spectacularly - and now, she tugs him towards the flight of stairs that leads to the massive double doors of the opulent house.

His heart pounds as he follows her.

There's a butler. Of course.

The man is in his fifties, Castle thinks, and respectfully nods to them, his posture dignified in his black suit.

"Good evening, sir. Madam."

"Evening," Kate offers with a smile.

Castle smiles too, so very uncomfortable that it's got to be all over his face, and then feels Kate's elbow nudging at his ribs. What-

Oh. The password.

"Idomeneo," he pronounces carefully, trying not to butcher the exotic-sounding word of Mozart's opera.

He must manage, because Kate flashes that pleased look at him, and a smile blossoms on the butler's face.

"If you will follow me," the man says, bowing slightly. "This way, please."

He leads them into a deserted corridor, lit up by authentic chandeliers; the flames dance over the light-colored walls, and Castle's seriously grateful for the strong line of Kate's arm laced around his. His knees feel like they might give out any moment.

"You got your mask?" she asks him quietly.

"Um, yeah," he answers, sliding his fingers into his inside pocket. He bought one that's rather simple, plain black, with a pained expression on it that he thought was funny at the time - not so much anymore.

He puts it on his face, has to let her go since he needs both hands. When the mask is secured, he looks over at Kate through the slits; her green eyes meet him, a shadow of hesitation - anticipation? - in them.

She looks gorgeous. Her mask is Venetian, elaborate, with ornate gold patterns curling around the eyes, blue feathers capping her forehead. The mouth is an exquisite red that contrasts with the lower half of the mask, pale white, thin lines running over it like cracks in marble.

Where did it come from? What's the story behind it? He's dying to ask, but they're almost at the door, the butler already reaching for the knob. So instead Castle catches her hand once more, her fingers slender and warm inside his, and he braces himself.

The door opens.

He's so nervous it's disgusting. At any moment, she's going to dislodge his hand and wipe the sweat off her palm, and he wouldn't blame her one bit, but the second their connection is severed, he might turn around and run.

Rick Castle, as a rule, has never been one to run.

This is the exception.

Her fingers lace through his and his chest eases, allows his brain to start observing again, filing away the details for later.

They've come into a grand ballroom - gilded mouldings, a Sistine-esque ceiling, an ornate chandelier that really puts it over the top. Five doors lead off from the main room, all of them shut, and Castle's heart pounds sluggishly in his chest, thick with a combination of strange, dark arousal and absolute, mortifying fear.

Yes. He is afraid.

A scattering of people are dressed as they are in the room - couples or singles, elegant and sipping champagne, wearing masks, only twenty or so. He wonders if he should know them, if they are judges and politicians and CEOs he's run into; he wonders what their stories might be, how they got here, what item on their list this could possibly be for them, these masked individuals who are so at ease, so light, so clever as they chat with one another.

He can't even focus long enough on these people to make guesses as to their identities - they are just misshapen, masked forms, somewhat menacing in their air of natural and casual comfort. It's unnerving.

Kate's hand is cool in his, her body slightly ahead of his as she takes a flute of champagne from a passing tray, sips it leisurely as she watches the room. She is just as relaxed, nonchalant as the others; Castle is alone.

He lets go of her hand to take a glass himself, wondering if the unmasked wait staff will remain in the room or-

At that moment, every single one of them disappears from the ballroom, like they've vanished from the earth entirely, leaving just the well-dressed, unknown participants waiting on the edges of the dance floor.

The Mozart opera he used as their password to enter is playing overhead, he realizes, some hidden speaker delicately teasing the music along his ears, his body vibrating with the sense of quiet inevitability.

And then the music lilts and quiets, the room grows still at some subtle signal, and all five doors open.

A line of white masked women trail through the guests, the dark, heavy folds of their robes brushing the floor as they snake their way to the center of the room. A woman comes between him and Kate, and for some reason Castle's hand breaks from hers without even a touch, allowing the strange creature to pass, her rob smelling of dark incense, her hair tumbling over the hood of her cape, her feet silent.

He can't breathe until Kate's hand finds his again.

He's so caught in the silent spell that it takes him a moment to realize that a dark priest has claimed the ornate seal in the floor as his spot, his palms pressed together, his mask a smooth, flesh-colored thing with blank eyes.

Castle shifts closer to Kate as the women in their white masks slowly ring around the priest. Kate is entirely unperturbed, her fingers loose around his, her eyes revealing nothing through her mask. He can see the curve of her ear, the way her hair brushes half-back from her neck, the beautiful skin glowing pink and gold in the light. He remembers the movie, he knows how this will go, and he wants - quite suddenly - to be anywhere but here on Halloween night.

He turns to her, his fiancee, his thumb stroking the inside of her wrist to gain her attention. She shifts only slight into him, questions in the glittering depths of her eyes.

"Kate," he breathes out, leaning in close to her ear. As he speaks, he feels the edge of his tongue meet the slit of the mask's mouth, a sharp line that makes his body crowd hers and press her back through the other guests, his hands at her hips in need and panic.

"Castle?" she murmurs, amusement dripping from each syllable of his name, but it's not funny. This is not funny.

"Can you - should you even be here?" he says quietly, shooting a look over his shoulder as the women close the circle around the priest. "They - have you seen the movie? Because they're going to - this is - they'll choose partners - and you're a cop-"

"Jeez," she says, her fingers tightening around his wrist painfully. "Say it a little louder."

"But you - I don't want you to lose your job over some stupid item on my bucket list-"

"That's what the masks are for," she murmurs, her fingers lifting to smooth the line of his shirt, straight down to his belt where she presses into his abdomen, makes the flare of arousal sing. "Don't worry about me."

A chime overhead causes the room to orient towards the priest, and Castle slowly turns as well, feels Kate at his side with her hand dropping away from his waist, dread filling his chest.

The women in the circle seem to sway to some unheard rhythm, and their hands lift, touching each others' palm to palm, and while Castle always enjoys a bit of theatre, the flourish, his hands are in tight fists at his sides and his eyes are burning, and he doesn't even know why; this should be a dream come true but it's a nightmare, it's a nightmare, and he doesn't-

The robes drop.

He startles back, but they're still dressed - all of the women are dressed, scantily, yes, but nothing Beckett herself wouldn't wear - hasn't worn, in the dark of his own bedroom, black silk and close to lingerie but still classy; it's all classy; it's all so very well done, but that doesn't calm him down at all, it only reinforces the idea that they are doing this-

The opera music swells at just that moment, strident, commanding, and the women all turn to each other in pairs, touching mask to mask, a kiss of white silk lips that makes Castle's stomach roll and pitch, his hand seek blindly for Kate's.

To the soundtrack of the triumphant, eerie music, the women pivot slowly outward, facing the guests, dark and glittering eyes behind those white masks, and they step forward on soft, felt-lined feet, trailing a seductive web through the crowd.

He stiffens and feels Kate's fingers tapping a tattoo against the back of his hand, slow and steady, her breathing even, her body strong. Not even a moment's hesitation.

The women touch, slide fingers along arms, shoulders, the brush of a palm, a thigh, selecting their choices for the evening, all silent, no sound from behind those deadly white masks.

A few women circle them, eyes meeting briefly, hungrily, lazily, and Castle can't help shifting closer to Kate, in protection or for protection, he doesn't even know, until a pair of women in black silk and white masks stop before them, hands reaching like mirroring twins, and before the woman at his side can even touch his elbow, Kate is already being led away from him.

"No," he grunts and snags her hand back, tight, sweaty, gripping so hard he can feel her bones crunch.

She flickers a look back to him, something in those nearly-hidden eyes he can't possibly fathom, but wants to label arousal, but for who? and that is not acceptable, this whole thing is not right, he won't - can't - she's going to be his wife.

His.

And he her husband.

Hers.

"No," he says again, and avoids the woman still silent before him even as he sees others being led away to those tantalizingly open doors. He draws closer to Kate. "Not - I don't want to do this."

"Are you sure?" she murmurs, her masked face even with his in those killer shoes. "Castle. I don't think I can get us invited back-"

"No. We're not doing this. I don't want them, this - I want you," he grunts. "I just want you."

He can't see her mouth, has no idea what's behind that mask, but a little, quiet sound comes from her, something he can't identify, something that drifts over him and settles, makes his heart calm.

"Okay, Rick," she murmurs, and then reaches for her mask and slides it away.

He gasps and clutches at her arm to stop her - her anonymity, the mask - but she shakes her hair out and it tumbles around her shoulders and she's grinning at him, amused and a little sheepish but a lot aroused as well, and he can't-

The women in white masks remove theirs, a slow production, but the guests still remaining in the room - he sees now - are following Kate's lead, and his heart is jack-rabbitting, his pulse roaring, as Kate lifts her hands and tucks her fingers under the band of his mask and slides it off.

He stares down at her, the twitching lips and the dark, beautiful line of her throat.

"Mm, then let's just have a Halloween party," she murmurs, an eyebrow lifting.

He turns slowly to the rest of the room and his jaw drops.

Everyone is here.

Kate gets a chance to fist bump Esposito and Ryan as one of the students from Martha's school - sans white mask - leads them through the doorway into the other room. It's a mirror to the one they've just left behind, but the place is decorated for Halloween, includes a long bar and a table of finger foods, and Martha is holding court.

Castle is still dumbstruck at her side.

Esposito is cackling. "Man, you shoulda seen your face. Well, actually, I wish I coulda seen your face. Just the deer in the headlights look in your eyes was good enough, but bro-"

Kate presses her lips together and slides her arm through Castle's, tugging his unresistant body towards the bar. "Need a drink, Castle?"

Ryan is shaking his head. "Really, Castle? An Eyes Wide Shut party? Who does that?"

"Drink," Kate nudges, narrowing her eyes at the boys to shoo them away.

Castle grunts and clears his throat. "All that - those were - who are these people?"

"Students from my school," his mother crows, the crowd parting before her like a wave. "Darling, wasn't it spectacular? Just - truly - a phenomenal idea, Kate."

"Thank you," she demures. "Martha, I couldn't have done it without you." His mother envelopes her in an embrace, and Kate grins over the woman's shoulder at Castle as he still stands there, almost swaying with his disbelief.

"So the - all those women in the robes-"

"Actresses. The wait staff as well." Martha lowers her voice and stage whispers. "We didn't even have to pay them, Richard. It's mighty low-budget, but it worked."

"It definitely worked," he says and then casts another help me look to Kate.

"Okay, let's get you a drink," she murmurs, winking at his mother and leading Castle off.

He's practically trembling, and he clutches at her hand over the crook of his elbow. "Is this because I haven't gotten you an engagement ring?" he whispers.

Kate laughs and squeezes his arm, leans in to kiss the worried look on his face. "No, Rick. It's because you have an Eyes Wide Shut party on your list, and there's no way in hell I'm letting some masked woman lead you off anywhere." She grins a little wider. "Or me, for that matter."

"This is because I haven't gotten you a ring," he mutters.

She hums and leans up to the bar, lifting a finger for the bartender's attention but she already has it. "Scotch on the rocks. And a glass of white."

Castle shivers again, maybe because of his close call, and she slides her hand down the inside of his arm, slips her fingers between his. He shifts as the wine is placed before her; she takes it and sips coolly at her drink, watches Castle's coloring come back slowly, his eyes go from hunted to amused.

"You really went all out for this. You're a devious woman, Kate Beckett."

She smiles at him, the flush of victory, pride, something in her chest as she regards him. Oh, maybe it's love.

"Well, you've been warned now."

"Indeed I have." He takes the Scotch as it's offered and downs the whole thing in one long gulp, wincing at the burn, and she laughs.

"Poor thing. Was it that bad? I thought an Eyes Wide Shut party was something you've always wanted to do."

"It's possible I was hasty. Also, I might've been drunk when I made that list. And recently single."

And hurting. It goes unsaid, but he said it was right after the movie came out, and that was fresh from his second divorce.

She bites the inside of her lip, watches him from under heavy lids. Pretty ridiculous how she loves him, how even an admission like that only makes him sweet and not just pathetic.

Well, okay, some pathetic in there as well. But it's an attractive pathetic.

He sighs loudly and leans in to brush a kiss over her mouth, soft, a little hesitant, like she's some new breed he's never encountered before.

She likes that too.

"So what was the plan here?" he murmurs, wriggling his eyebrow as he looks over the party.

"If you'd let the girl take you," she starts-

"Ohhh, so this was a test. I get it."

Kate laughs at that, shaking her head and squeezing his fingers with hers to get his attention. "No, Castle. I don't need to test you. I already know I got you."

He lets out a little breath, gives her a grin. "You got me."

"If you had let the girl take you through the door," she says. "You'd had been let in on the surprise by everyone already over here. We were last to be picked, in case you hadn't noticed."

"Huh." His shoulders shrug under his suit jacket and she rubs her thumb over the back of his hand, waits him out. Castle finally turns to her with a frown. "Did you really think I'd let some woman lead me off? I mean-"

She smirks back at him, nudges her hip into his. "No, actually. I thought you'd follow me, rather eagerly, Castle - want to join in. And then, we'd get you as you came through the door."

He narrows his eyes at her, suddenly crowds her up against the bar, his body burning her skin through the material of her dress, his hands on her waist.

"You're even more misguided if you'd think I'd let someone lead you away, even if I could follow."

She hitches in a breath, feels her chest brush his, the feral look in his eyes arresting.

He leans in, his mouth at her ear, takes her earlobe between his teeth and bites on a growl. Her eyes slip shut, her hands gripping him.

"Because, Kate?"

She makes some noise of assent, interrogation, something, because his amusement ripples through his body and into hers.

"You're going to be my wife. Never. Never would I let anyone else come between us."

48. Eyes Wide Shut Party