Semi-long author's note. I apologize.
The premise of this story is simple. Each section is merely an expansion of a phone conversation we see onscreen with Castle and Beckett, typically from the beginning of the episodes where she calls about a body. Not every episode has such a call, so not every episode will be written in this story, either.
I started this little story with Emma (FanficWriterGHC) several months ago. We both got a little lax with writing it (school work and other writing priorities), so I talked to her and decided to take it over and finish writing it myself. But until otherwise noted (sometime in the following chapters), she wrote the even-numbered episodes and I wrote the odd-numbered ones.
As the sections get longer as Castle and Beckett get to know each other better, there'll (likely) be fewer phone conversations in one chapter.
1x02 Nanny McDead
"Actually, I got the plot of my first novel by watching One Life To Live, Ah!" he slips his phone open, giving his daughter and mother a look as he greets, "Detective Beckett, did you miss me already?"
Her "In your dreams," lacks any type of humor, but he figures it must be the hour. After all, she doesn't have his lovely daughter and crazy, though entertaining, mother to go home to. "The M.E's doing the autopsy."
"Really? They do those at night?" he asks, already excited. He's never seen a real autopsy.
"Yes," she replies tersely. Fine, she can be touchy. Doesn't make it any less cool. "You in or what?"
"No, for sure. I'm just-I'm just touched that you thought of me," he says, grinning even though she's not there to see it and-
"Montgomery ordered me to call you."
See it and scowl. Ah well. "Oh, ordered to call me," he provides, laughing a little for his family's benefit; they're listening, as usual. "Well, either way."
"So glad that does it for you Castle," she bites into the speaker. "See you in twenty."
"Okay," he says cheerfully. An autopsy. How awesome is that?
1x03 Hedge Fund Homeboys
He pops a piece of cantaloupe in his mouth, already feels the thrum of murder humming in his veins as he answers the call.
"Who was murdered and was it gruesome?"
He hears her groan on the other end. "A little respect, Castle?" The cantaloupe rolls slowly in his mouth as her reprimanding tone rings through his head. He can almost see her rolling her eyes.
He swallows hard, doesn't know how to respond.
She sighs, no-nonsense. "Just meet me in Central Park in fifteen minutes." She pauses. "And let's keep the witty comments to a minimum, okay?"
A grin finds its way to his lips. "You don't really mean that," he drawls.
She snorts. "Try me, Castle."
"Why, Detective Beckett-"
"I'm hanging up now." His mouth twitches in amusement as the line goes dead. He ends the call, turns around to find Alexis shaking her head at him next to his mother, who stares at him with raised eyebrows.
"You know I'm really going to miss you," Alexis says. He cocks his head in confusion. "At the rate you're going, Detective Beckett's sure to murder you in your sleep." She shrugs.
He scoffs. "I'm sure she's secretly thrilled to have me."
"Keep telling yourself that, darling," Martha says, exchanging knowing glances with Alexis.
He huffs out a breath, brushes a quick kiss across Alexis' forehead.
"Duty calls." He waggles his eyebrows, more excited than a kid on Christmas.
He'll win her over eventually.
1x04 Hell Hath No Fury
"Lanie, you're surrounded by corpses," she protests. Maybe she could have turned a light on, but there's something...refreshing about the calm of the morgue late at night. Oh, she can't even touch that one.
"Yeah, I don't expect the living after seven o'clock."
"Funny, neither do I," she says, kicking a leg out.
"I'm an ME, what's your excuse?" Lanie asks, eyebrow up, all sass.
"Oh, don't be mean!"
"You deserve it," Lanie tosses back. Not fair. "Getting a drink with me after work, instead of gettin' your freak on with writer boy?"
This again? Seriously? "Yeah, well, he is annoying, self-centered, egotistical, and completely-"
"Fun," Lanie interjects, loud enough to cut her off.
Kate glares at her, but-no, she won't admit that he's fun. He's not. He's a child. A completely handsome, witty-jackass. Jackass-ish child, and she's sticking to it.
"And take it from me, girlfriend, you need some fun," Lanie continues in that really annoying way that makes it so freakin' difficult to argue. Her phone rings. "I mean, how bad can he be?"
If it weren't for the fact that the writer in question flashes across her screen, she'd be saved. As it is, at least it's not more of Lanie's "Get your man" speech.
"Beckett," she greets.
"Guess who's got a date with a prostitute?" he cheers across the line.
Damn. Damn it all to hell. He got to her first. Egotistical bastard. She spreads her hands out as Lanie giggles into the back of her palm. See? Fun is not the way to describe Richard Castle.
"You must be so glad someone is finally desperate enough to sleep with you," she drawls, bringing the phone back to her ear.
And the jerk has the gaul to laugh. God, he's insufferable. "And I won't even have to pay her. Lovely, isn't it?" he says. "Meeting's tomorrow morning, 10. Text you the address. You in?"
"Unless you do want to pay her," she grinds out.
"Perfect," he says, and she can practically see that smug grin that stretches across his face and crinkles the corners of his eyes. "See you then."
"Goodbye, Castle," she offers tightly. She shoves her phone into her bag and gives Lanie a look. He's so infuriating.
"Say what you want, but you're enjoying it," Lanie decides, turning to grab her own purse. "Now, how drunk do I have to get you before you dish?"
"Very drunk," Kate concedes, hopping off the table to follow her friend out of the morgue. "Very, very drunk."
1x07 Home is Where the Heart Stops
He flicks his fencing mask up, panting heavily, bested by his 15 year-old daughter.
"Hello?"
"Bad time, Castle? You sound a little breathless." He swears he detects a hint of teasing in her tone.
He grins, covers the mouthpiece of his phone. "Beckett," he mouths to Alexis. "As if there could be a bad time for a murder, Detective." He blinks, clearing his throat. "Well, except for the, uh, victim, that is." He winces.
She hums in that way she does that usually accompanies an eyeroll. "So you in or what?"
"Give me twenty minutes? I'm a little, uh, sweaty," he admits, plucking at his fencing attire.
She groans. "I'm not even gonna touch that one."
"I was fencing, Beckett." He traipses back to his room, sticking a finger in his ear to drown out the tones of his mother on the piano.
"Is that what the kids are calling it these days?" she throws back.
"Does that mean you don't know what the kids are calling it these days? Because I would be more than happy to educate you," he teases, kicking out of his white uniform.
"Castle," she huffs in exasperation.
"Yes?" he drawls. God, he loves toying with her. It excites him far more than it should.
"Just-" She lets out a groan of frustration. "Meet me in ten minutes, okay? I'll text you the address."
He smiles. "Whatever you say, Detective."
She scoffs. "I'll remember that."
He opens his mouth to retort, but the line clicks off. He shakes his head in amusement, tosses his phone on the bed as he pulls on a blue striped shirt.
Yeah. Enjoys it way too much.
Love to hear from you!
Liv