In six years spent by Kate’s side, he can’t think of a moment when she’s looked more radiant than today. His wife (oh, he’s never going to tire of that title) sparkles with sheer happiness, a luminescent smile blooming over her face whenever their eyes meet across the small crowd of people who made the streamlined guest list.
He hasn’t found more than thirty seconds to spend alone with her, and he’s itching for it. At every turn there have been requests for photos, hugs and well wishes. Somehow, in all the madness they neglected to ask for even ten minutes to simply sit down and bask in their newly married status.
Their first solid moment arrives with their dance, though even then he has to go on a hunt for Kate where she’s been effectively trapped by her Aunt Teresa and a woman whom he doesn’t know, but who his wife - again, the title brings an easy smile - had explained the Beckett’s had known since before she was born.
“Mrs. Castle, your assistance is needed on the dance floor,” Rick says, voice pitched a bit lower than his usual tone when he slips up behind her, loops his arms around Kate at her waist. He doesn’t imagine the shiver that curls across her shoulders, or the way her throat works to swallow back what he suspects is a groan.
It just turns his delighted smile into something a touch more predatory, adds depth to his blue eyes that promise to give her everything she could possibly want later in the night when they are alone and free to do as they please.
“Is it?” Kate asks, a slow and far too innocent blink, the coy smile she gives him making the two women titter in amusement at her side, “I hadn’t noticed,” she continues, pressing a smacking kiss against his cheek just as Rick tightens his arms around her waist, lifting her from the floor in a smooth spin, dress and all, away from the women and towards the dance floor while Kate tips her head towards the ceiling in a shout of laughter that is largely drowned out by the opening strands of their song.
Rick gives a chuckle of his own once they step onto the floor, his smirk hidden against the mocha curls of Kate’s hair when she suddenly sinks about five inches and her shoes are in a heap on the floor. But, if he’s honest, he likes her the most this way, how she fits so perfectly under his chin.
And Kate nuzzles into his warmth, her small exhale painting the sensitive skin of his neck in the same moment that the singer’s voice flows from the speakers. A quick glance at their guests reflect confusion, disappointment and a myriad of questions at the rather melancholy tinge of their first dance song but Rick can’t be bothered to care. He’s a writer, with a hefty bank account to offer some resemblance of his success, and these words, their implication, resonate within him like few works can.
And he basks in it, wrapping his arms around Kate, dropping a kiss against the crown of her head as they spin in a slow circle on the floor. It’s not really dancing, more like swaying, but its the first time that he’s gotten to hold his wife since the minister declared them Mister and Mrs Richard Castle. Right now, he can get lost in that mysterious pool of green and brown, pick out the specific flecks that are sometimes gold that reside within Kate’s eyes.
She catches him at it before long, the slight crease forming between her brows while her brilliant mind attempts to figure him out. But he shakes his head, kisses the mark from her skin with a smile and then captures her mouth for a slow kiss that only leaves that sparkling, dazzling smile that makes his heart skip a beat because he’s holding his wife, Mrs. Katherine Beckett Castle and they are dancing at their wedding and, really, its about as perfect a moment as he can imagine.
As their song says, she’s in his veins and he definitely, absolutely cannot get her out.