I own nothing.

Just a little scenario that wouldn't leave my brain after the ep. This one is complete, but I'll have a companion piece of sorts coming soon.

It all began on a Tuesday afternoon. For once, Castle was the one leaving their bed early (or as early as 10am could be, considering their odd hours) while his wife snuggled against the covers, content to enjoy a lazy day off. He on the other hand, wasn't so lucky, having none other than three meetings scheduled with Black Pawn to discuss contract renewals that would go well into the afternoon. Kate had said she didn't mind, would give herself some "Me time", which she said basically meant catching up on Temptation Lane on the DVR and organizing her half of the closet.

Which is why he fully expected to hear music when walking into their home, but not from… their bedroom? He crosses the study and pauses at the threshold, rolling up his shirtsleeves and fully expecting to find Beckett surrounded by coats and other various articles of clothing spread on the bed, brows furrowing in confusion at the sight of the empty room until he notices the steam coming from a crack in the bathroom door.

Richard Castle knows his wife loves 60s music. She's talked endlessly about her love for Coltrane, her eyes shining with admiration and utter joy whenever the first notes of a particularly favorite melody would come from the speakers. So he shouldn't be surprised at the sounds coming from their bathroom, interspersed by the sound of the water and his wife's voice, and as he strains his ears, he detects the sound of... jumping? She was singing, and apparently dancing.

Curiosity getting the better of him, as usual when it comes to her, he walks into the bathroom. The iPod they bought a few months back after they'd both given up on storing music on their iPhones (considering how many times they keep having to buy new ones) is docked on top of the counter. He doesn't need to look at the screen to recognize the song as the lyrics to "Walking On Sunshine" come from the speakers and his wife's mouth.

Her silhouette is dancing around the shower stall, her eyes closed and a small smile painting her lips as she tilts her head down and the water rushes down her back. She's performing a choreography all her own with a surprising amount of jiggling, hand jiving and just where did she learn to do The Twist?

He'd walked in fully intending to join her, but for now he's content to simply watch, feeling warmth of the happiness settling into his stomach at the fact that he gets to see her like this; fully uninhibited, comfortable in her own skin and happy, allowing herself the silliness of performing a concert in the shower. Revealing another layer of the "Beckett onion".

He'll join her soon enough (making her shower fun in many more ways), just not yet. For now, he just watches. Captive audience, as he's always been when it comes to this extraordinary woman.