It's December, it's nearly Christmas, so it's time for my annual attempt at making a shipper Parody of 'Twas The Night Before Christmas' by Clement Clarke Moore. We all know this wonderfully classic poem, but only some of you know I'm insane enough to warp it every year. This year it's Caskett who get the Christmas treatment, and I'm also planning a Mentalist one as well.
Twas The Night Before Christmas - Castle Style
Twas the night before Christmas, and with his head on the desk
Rick Castle was abandoning a scene most grotesque.
There was snow on the window, all New York was still
It just wasn't the season to write out a kill.
Alexis was nestled, fast asleep in her bed
Exhausted, excited and very well fed.
And Martha with wine which had spilled on the couch
A festive nightcap turned to a drunken slouch.
Tape, bows, sprinkles and gift wrap galore
Was abandoned til morning all over the floor
Castle stepped over them, trying not to slip
Christmas was no time to require a new hip!
The gifts had been wrapped, placed under the tree
And come morning would be shredded with festive glee.
The teenager would dally, savour the moment
Her father would plough through, excited for presents.
Though Christmas is for love, and for love he would wait
This was no season for teasing and hate
For the season alone they would be honest and straight
and yes, he was talking about a detective called Kate.
Each Christmas that passed he made one single wish
To speak out the words he'd this year dared publish.
One dedication, that came from his heart
A way for the future he dreamed of to start.
Now he had printed it, then maybe she'd see
He wasn't the player he'd lead her to believe.
But when it came to Ms Beckett, his heart was too shy
So he sighed, made his wish, and looked to the sky.
More snowflakes were falling, much like the morn
He'd first seen her face and these feelings were born
Christmas was for family, and she'd become part of theirs
She should be with the Castles, the Rogers, upstairs.
But a knock on the door interrupted the plea
And to the front door he started to flee
His drunken mother didn't stir, his daughter didn't wake
He flung open the door and his hands started to shake.
There she was, brown hair spotted with snow,
With her breath coming fast and her cheeks aglow.
She run up the stairs, the elevator broken
Was she shaking too, or was she just frozen?
He ushered her in, and then noticed the book
From which her fingers she wouldn't unhook
She held it against her, a lifeline she'd created
And spoke out some words he'd long contemplated.
"Did you mean it?" she asked. "Was it true, what you wrote?"
His answer got jumbled and stuck in his throat.
Just moments before he'd wished at the window
And now she was here, courage hid deep below.
He had no words to speak, a Christmas disaster
From the look on her face, not just his heart was beating faster.
He leaned forward slowly just incase she'd dismiss
But she welcomed and embraced their first real kiss.
The book in her hands had fallen to the floor
But neither cared for manuscripts anymore
This Christmas was theirs, this moment their own
Their hearts and their arms created a new home.
The pages of Passionate Heat were not only fiction
Just as depicted in the heart felt dedication.
The one he'd dared brave under seasonal cheer
Forgetting the trembles, the panic, the fear.
As the snow fell around them and midnight chimed in
The words had ensured a good Christmas would begin.
"To my dearest KB, this Christmas it's true,
These words, and my heart, are devoted to you."
MERRY CHRISTMAS TO YOU ALL! LOVE YOU ALL!
