“I get caught with one of my friends under the mistletoe and you literally sprint from across the room to shove them out of the way and take their spot” au
She had arrived late to Castle’s Christmas party despite her best efforts to be out of the precinct by five, but the look on his face told her that her prolonged arrival didn’t matter, that the wait had been worth it.
The way his eyes had roamed her frame had given her all of the reassurance she needed the moment she stepped inside, wearing the deep red cocktail dress, nothing too fancy or flashy, but a subtle kind of sexy that had him gravitating across the extravagantly decorated expanse of the loft before she could shed her coat.
“Detective, you look absolutely stunning this evening,” he’d murmured, lips just a breath away from brushing her ear as he’d taken over his customary duty of relieving her of her outerwear, hanging it in his closet.
“Pretty dapper yourself, Castle,” she’d hummed, touching her fingers to the lapel of his blazer, the edge of his red tie, unintentionally matching hers. Of course.
Kate remains near him for the majority of the evening, not by conscious effort, still mingling with all of their friends, from both his circles and hers, from the precinct and high society crowds, and she relishes in the chance to enjoy this night off, the excuse for the freedom that this year’s Christmas holiday provides her with.
She hasn’t enjoyed Christmas in years, nearly twelve now, but when he’s around, she almost believes she can. Even if it’s only for a few hours.
Naturally, Lanie takes note of it all.
“Cozying up to Castle for Christmas, huh?” her friend teases, sidling up next to Beckett by the gorgeously lit tree, handing her one of the special holiday drinks from the bar, a candy cane protruding from the champagne flute.
Kate accepts the beverage with a roll of her eyes.
“I see your not taking the night off.”
Lanie arches an eyebrow. “From what?”
“Torturing me,” Kate mutters, lifting the glass to her lips for a small sip, huffing when Lanie bumps her hip.
She shoots Kate a smirk, her gaze wandering back out into the crowd, snagging on something that has her elbowing Kate’s side.
“Hmm?” Kate follows Lanie’s gaze, finding Castle at the end of her path, standing next to one of Beckett’s closest friends, Rick and Maddie both glancing upwards.
Everything freezes for just a split second the moment Beckett realizes the placement of the mistletoe, dangling right above his - and her beautiful, blonde, childhood best friend’s - head in the doorway of his office.
Of course, she had been pleasantly surprised to see Madison Queller at his party, shooting him a grateful look for having the thought of inviting her. It’s been far too long and after they’d chatted a bit since Kate had arrived, they had even made plans for lunch for the first week after New Year’s.
Maddie kissing Castle prior to that is not part of the plan.
“Girl, go get your man,” Lanie whispers and Kate rolls her eyes, but passes her drink over, grateful when she accepts it without a word, probably pleased by the way Kate begins striding across the room.
But she isn’t thinking about Lanie, or anyone else really, only that she is not letting Castle kiss someone else for Christmas.
She isn’t the jealous type, she’s really not - at least that’s what she continues to tell herself - but she has waited too long and fought too hard to watch one of her friends lock lips with the man she… is essentially in love with, even if it is nothing more than a friendly mistletoe kiss.
Castle must sense her, hear the distinct click of her heels, because his head turns, Madison’s following suit, and she catches the smirk on Maddie’s red lips before her friend takes a resolute step back.
Just in time for Kate to reach him, cup his face in her hands, lay claim to his mouth.
One second, he’s staring back at Beckett’s childhood best friend in amusement as they stand motionless under mistletoe, the next, he’s got an armful of Kate, the press of her lips better than any Christmas gift on his hypothetical list.
He draws her in, shuffling backwards into his office, out of view, and feels the tension in her spine drain, her chest meeting his and her hands trailing to comb through his hair, settle at his nape. But all too soon, she’s pulling back, looking up at him with eyes that are hazy and liquid gold, lips that have been thoroughly kissed, but for not long enough.
Her gaze flicks to the mistletoe no longer above their heads, glimmering with a bright red bow above his office doorway, and Rick smirks.
“We weren’t going to kiss, you know?” he murmurs, using the shield of the bookshelves and shifting them a little to avoid the prying eyes of Lanie from across the room, the delighted grin Madison wears as she saunters off to join Kate’s other best friend.
“What’re you talking about? I was just walking this way and happened to end up under the mistletoe,” Kate muses, her hands slipping down to curl at his biceps, but his remain planted firmly on the bones of her hips.
He gapes at her, but she merely grins, that cheeky smile that shows him a hint of tongue, and relaxes further into his hold.
“I know we’re waiting,” she continues, quieter, deflating his joy of tasting her lips just a little, but then her mouth is dusting along his jaw. “But it’s - I don’t want-”
“I don’t want to kiss anyone but you,” he blurts, words he know she can’t manage without strangling herself with them, and she sucks in a breath against his skin. “Even if it’s just under the mistletoe. I’m waiting for you, Kate. Only you.”
“Castle,” she breathes, her voice suddenly so sorrowful, her lashes fluttering against his cheek. “I don’t want you to just be stuck waiting. Not… not alone, anyway.”
“Suggesting we wait together?” he hums, their conversation bordering on nonsensical, but her eyes flicker with light at the words, with hope. “What does that entail?”
Kate glances over her shoulder, nudging him deeper into his office with her hips, rolling her eyes at the waves and winks she receives from Lanie and Madison before she blocks them both from view.
“More of this?” she murmurs, tilting her chin, her lips brushing his with the words, and Castle raises his hands to her face, cradles the slashes of her cheekbones in his palms.
“Even without the mistletoe?” he breathes, barely breathing at all, scared to disturb this moment of intimacy in his office, to pop the bubble they’ve stumbled into.
He wants her, for Christmas, for the New Year, for always. He wants to tell her, kiss her senseless until she realizes she’ll never have to be jealous again, but Kate’s breath is washing hot and wonderful over his lips, his flesh tingling with the electricity, the anticipation of her mouth on his.
“No mistletoe necessary.”
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