A Castle for a King by AndromedaMarine
When the Irony Drives People Mad
"What do we know about our Lancelot?" Kate asked Esposito, rubbing circles on her temples to dispel the tension left over from Castle. "Fingerprints, DNA, rap sheets, give me something to go on..." She sat at her desk, having banished Rick to the break room as to not bother her further (though his mere presence in the precinct building managed to annoy her anyway). Castle materialized out of nowhere, causing the detective to leap from her seat and glare intensely in the author's direction. "Castle! I told you to stay in the break room!"
He grinned his self-important grin. "Since when do I ever follow your orders?" he countered. "And besides, I can't do research without studying you and your habits."
Kate managed to not let out a hiss of exasperation. She resisted the urge to smack him upside his ego-inflated head, though calmed significantly when Kevin Ryan handed her a file folder. "Fingerprints came back as twenty one year old Jackson Mençois, a French-English citizen from Somerset, England, with a student visa to study at the New York City University."
"If that's the case then why did he show up in the system?" Castle cut in.
Ryan glanced from the author to his boss. "He was arrested for indecent exposure last week, but bailed out. His hearing was supposed to be tomorrow." He flopped into the chair at his desk. "The report says Mençois had a BAC level of 0.1 and flashed at least four couples in the middle of Time's Square."
Esposito appeared behind Ryan. "Guess what he was studying at NYCU," he asked Kate with a Castle-like grin. "Betcha can't guess..."
"Esposito, I'm not in the mood for guessing when you can just tell me. Or unless Castle wants to try his psychic author skills to guess for me." She opened the file and began to read, desperately trying to ignore Richard Castle.
Javier turned to Rick. "You want to guess since Beckett's being a pain?"
Castle grinned again. He lifted his hands and began to wave them around as he began to speak. "Okay... So Jackson Mençois is found dead in Central Park wearing a suit of armour and shish kabob'd on a replica of Excalibur. He's a French-English citizen – oh this makes such a good story – which means he's got a good grasp on the legend of King Arthur, considering he lived in the same-ish area. Am I right so far?" He didn't wait for an answer but kept plowing through his theory. "Okay – because of the medieval dress-up I'm guessing he's not just from Somerset, but actually lived and grew up in Glastonbury, the place where King Arthur and Queen Guinevere are rumoured to be buried."
Esposito's mouth hung open and Ryan just stared. Kate had stopped rubbing her temples and her eyes were fixed on the author.
Though perhaps not intentionally encouraged, he continued. "Because he decided to die while looking like Lancelot, my expert and very professional hypothesis and answer to your question is that Jackson Mençois majored in Mythology and British literature." Castle's smile was now wider than ever and Beckett and her team simply stared at him. "Well...am I right?"
Javier snapped out of his frozen state and glanced down at the little piece of paper in his hand. "Uh...yeah...Mythology and British lit."
Ryan stared at Castle. "How did you do that?" he asked, leaning forward until he almost fell over.
"Duh," Castle said, pointing both of his index fingers at himself. "I'm a psychic author, just like Kate said."
"Don't call me Kate, Castle. It's Beckett to you."
"Oh," Rick said sweetly, sitting in the chair across from Kate's desk. "You just like it when I say your name and you're too embarrassed to admit it." He flashed puppy-dog eyes at her, mocking her.
Kate would never, ever, let him know he was right.
Dead right.
Maybe Castle would make a good king...