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If you find any, feel free to adopt them - everything deserves some love. Even typos. :)
EPISODE 2 - "THE DOUBLE DOWN"
"Castle, I didn't call you…" Beckett states flatly, completely focused on her work as the writer strides towards her desk. "Why're you here?"
"Seriously, Beckett?" he remarks indignantly. "Full moon, police station… that's just a good time waiting to happen!"
She furrows her brow as she shoots him an unimpressed glare. Dork.
"You want entertainment, Castle? Try the Angelica…" she retorts, returning her attention to her paperwork. "They serve popcorn."
"Already got it covered," he smirks gleefully.
She quickly looks up only to watch him head towards the break room, an excited spring in his step. 'He didn't...'
Watching him remove a packet of microwave popcorn from inside his jacket, she can't help but roll her eyes and shake her head before returning her focus to the stack of case files on her desk. 'Of course he did...'
Not five minutes later, two uniforms step out of the elevator while attempting to restrain a man… a shirtless hippie wearing nothing but khakis and a cape who's raving like a lunatic and thrashing around wildly.
She chances a glance at Castle who is approaching her desk carrying a full bowl of popcorn, a stupidly huge grin adorning his face as he watches the officers struggle to control the maniac. 'Let the fun begin.'
Beckett grips the steering wheel firmly, releasing a long, deep exhale through her nose as Castle continues to rant incessantly about vocabulary and grammar...
"I mean, really? Who screws up 'you're' and 'your'? It's as bad as using the wrong 'there'!"
"Castle-" she breathes.
He doesn't even pause, completely rapt in his own thought process. "Especially when you write it on the face of the person you just killed! What kind of a message does that send? 'Hello, I am a killer, but I am sloppy. I should be easy to catch. Come get me!"
"Castle-" she tries again a bit more forcefully, but to no avail.
"Seriously, Beckett!" he shifts in his seat while waving his hand dramatically, not even heeding her interruption. "If you're going to leave a message after murdering someone, wouldn't you think that ensuring the message is grammatically correct would be of utmost importance? I mean-"
"CASTLE!"
His mouth shuts as she shoots him a death-stare. "You keep going with this little monologue and I will be writing a message on your dead body!"
"What part of my body?" he teases, eyebrows waggling mischievously.
She releases an elongated breath, returning her attention to the road, before muttering, "Wouldn't you like to know..."
"Beckett, I'm serious," he pleads as he steps out of the elevator, trying to keep up as she bolts ahead of him towards the bullpen. "Proper grammar is important."
She sits down quickly and pulls open the left drawer of her desk, hastily shuffling through some files... lifting a pad of paper... moving her little stick man to the side as she checks the very back of the drawer. Her head is pounding, and if she doesn't pop a Tylenol soon, she won't be held accountable for her actions.
Nothing in her desk. Crap.
"It's a lost art," he continues, not even missing a beat. "Too many people take it for granted. They just trust their computers to correct their mistakes. How sad is that?"
She buries her face in her hands, elbows propped on the edge of her desk as she mumbles, "Are you still talking?"
As he continues to natter away, his voice echoing loudly in the depths of her mind, she starts to wonder who she pissed off to get saddled with this infuriating man-child. What has the Universe got against her? What did she ever do to deserve such torture?
"It's not like you're just leaving yourself a note, you know, to buy bread on the way home," he persists as she attempts to massage the throbbing pain from her brain using her fingertips. Good lord, something… make him stop!
But he keeps going. "You're writing on a person you just murdered. You're trying to make a point. A point you care a great deal about, presumably, because you just killed someone to make it. So how do you not make sure that you're using the proper language to make that point?"
She's seriously wondering whether or not shooting him would be justifiable homicide when Ryan and Esposito enter just in time to save Castle from certain death.
"Frank Anderson, retired middle-school math teacher from IS 161," the Irish detective remarks, brandishing his notepad. "You want in?"
"Uh, no, thanks," she replies, holding up her ringing cell phone. "Full up."
She uses the welcome interruption to escape Castle's inane English lecture, leaving her desk to take the call.
"Hey Lanie…" she huffs.
"Hey... Is this a bad time?"
"No… No," the detective sighs. "Actually, you may have just stopped me from committing murder."
"Castle?"
"Castle," she sighs, glancing over at the writer who is now chatting with the boys.
"Girl, you should just kiss that man!..."
"Lanie!"
"...unless you particularly enjoy this sexual frustration."
Redirecting the conversation as she pinches the bridge of her nose, Beckett pointedly remarks, "You called for something?"
"Yes… just finished my prelim on the vic…" Lanie begins, but Beckett's mind is elsewhere. She wants to kill the guy. Rip his tongue out of his mouth and shove it where the sun don't shine. That's not really indicative of her wanting… well… him… is it?
She shakes the thought from her head as she attempts to concentrate on the phone call.
Murder. Case. Killer. Focus.
"Did you seriously have to spit on your hand, Bro?!"
Ryan sighs heavily as he opens up another computer file. "I- I got caught up in the moment," the Irish detective offers. "I'm sorry… for the twentieth time."
Esposito just releases a laboured breath as he keeps his back to his partner, pouring over Frank Anderson's phone records. "Whatever you say… Honeymilk."
Ryan just shakes his head at the remark, but bites his tongue. He's not going to win this one and he knows it.
The two detectives sit back to back in silence for a while longer before Esposito swivels his chair to face Ryan. "You know…" he begins, leaving a pregnant pause so that his partner becomes intrigued enough to turn as well. "Castle was awfully quick to agree to that bet…" he muses.
"He was indeed…" Ryan agrees with a mischievous tone. "What are you thinking?"
"I'm thinking we're a lock to win this bet…" the Latino smirks, narrowing his eyes, "so why not up the ante?"
"More money?"
"Nah…" Esposito ruminates, a sly grin pulling at the corner of his mouth. "I got a better idea…"
Alone in the bullpen... again... Beckett leans back in her steno chair, arms crossed against her chest as she purses her lips and stares hypnotically at her computer screen. The lights in the bullpen have been dimmed for the evening, the soft light from the bright moon washing through the window in the conference room.
She's trying to stay focused on the case, but she can't get his voice out of her head. His deep, husky voice speaking words that spilled from his luscious, velvety lips… lips that she would love to ki-
WHOA! Where did that come from?
She quickly shakes her head clear of such intrusive and unwelcome thoughts as she glances at her watch.
10:43pm.
She releases a deep sigh, looking around the dark and vacant precinct. She should really head home… get some rest. Evidently she needs it if she's starting to allow such disagreeable thoughts to eke into her mind.
Yeah. Sleep. A few hours of sleep will fix everything.
Even though she's hiding it very well, Beckett starts to feel a bit of the morning fatigue after speaking to Brandy Rossi, especially when Karpowski confirms that her alibi is solid. But coffee can fix that pretty quick. She heads straight to the breakroom, by-passing the boys as they vacate the area after speaking to their victim's family.
She grabs an NYPD mug off the counter. Ah coffee… caffeinated happiness in a cup. She can't help but whistle to herself as the liquid flows from the carafe into the mug. Putting the coffee pot back on the hot plate, she peers through the window, observing Castle talking with Ryan and Esposito. About their case, she supposes, though she has no idea what he would find so interesting about an ordinary pop-and-drop.
Not that it matters.
If he wants to annoy the boys, more power to him. Why should she care?
But he does look very happy about something… and this alone is enough to cause her concern.
As she heads back towards her desk, she can't help but roll her eyes as the writer starts to dance awkwardly. She can't quite make out what he's singing about, but she doesn't have a chance to find out as he practically runs her over, mouth gaping as he stares at her from only inches away.
"Hey," he remarks, his hands dropping hastily.
"Hey."
"I was just... Uh, they were... There was two…" he stammers.
She eyes him suspiciously. "Yeah."
He's guilty as hell about something.
Castle can't believe what he's hearing. Are these guys for real? Trying to call his bluff? Him? A champion poker player? As if.
No way he's worried. They want to up the ante… bring it.
"Not money," Esposito taunts, crowding Castle's personal space. "Humiliation. Loser wears a dress to the precinct for a week."
Castle's ridden a horse through Central Park in the nude. A dress is nothing.
"Why stop there?" Ryan adds, getting in the writer's face. "Loser also shaves his head. Or are you chicken?"
The insinuation causes Castle to pause for a moment as he looks over his shoulder at Beckett. His hair. His lovely, silky, impeccable hair…
Is he really willing to put his hair on the line... for her?
Yeah… he is. Because she's extraordinary.
"You're on, Honeymilk," he snaps, staring down the Irish detective before quickly leaving the boys, returning to the bullpen.
Okay… now this is serious. Now his hair is on the line. His perfectly styled, soft, sexy hair. Not good. Not good at all.
"Is Evan Hinkle here yet?" the author asks, the words rapidly pouring from his mouth as he rushes to meet Beckett at her desk.
"Uh… yeah," she replies, cocking her head curiously, "Uniforms just brought him in about a minute ago."
He doesn't even pause as he pivots, hastily making his way towards Interrogation. "What're we waiting for then?"
Beckett raises an eyebrow inquisitively as she watches him speed across the bullpen.
Yeah… he's so up to something.
She watches Castle head towards the breakroom as she turns her attention to the whiteboard. She tries to muddle over Jason Cosway's involvement in his wife's murder, but she can't shake thoughts of Castle's behaviour from her mind.
The impatient questioning of Hal Ross.
Closing the elevator doors in Ryan and Esposito's faces.
Going all super-cop during Evan Hinkle's interrogation.
And then of course there's everyone else. Conversations halting when she approaches. Her co-workers suddenly watching her every move. Stegner's uncomfortable stuttering.
It's like there's a joke that the entire precinct is in on except for her… but that's about to change. Right now.
Her eyes narrow as she glances over at the breakroom, watching Castle take cash from a couple of detectives. What the fuck?...
"Son of a…"
He's a dead man!
"Dude! I can't believe she found out about the bet!"
"Just be glad she didn't shoot us, Bro."
"So… uh… do you think the bet is still on?" Ryan mutters, looking up from his desk.
"Dunno… why," Esposito mumbles as he clicks his mouse.
"Cuz Beckett just escorted Jason Cosway into Interrogation One," Ryan notes as he watches Castle close the door, the writer wiggling his eyebrows as he shoots the detectives a cocky grin.
The boys glance at each other quickly, frozen and wide-eyed, before scrambling out of their chairs, rushing into the observation room.
Beckett's hardened voice echoes through the speaker. "You wanna tell us about last Friday?"
"She looks like she's gonna rip his head off," Ryan mutters to himself, watching Beckett lean heavily into the table.
Esposito folds his arms across his chest. "Better him than us…"
"And what's with Castle? He looks so calm?"
"Dunno…" the Latino remarks curiously. "I haven't seen him take notes during an interrogation since last year."
As if he could hear them, Castle then presses his note pad against the two-way mirror, his short note letting them in on his little secret. Beckett's got a hundred dollars wagered. They're toast.
"How does he even know we're watching?" Ryan queries as he reads the message that Beckett is now in on the bet.
"Ah. No wonder she's going after him so hard," Espo muses.
"Shit…" Ryan mumbles as he runs his palm across his scalp. "I like my hair."
"You're worried about your hair, Bro? What about the dress?"
"Crap."
"The only thing I remember is the fact that we were sitting there right behind the home bench," Cosway asserts, not wavering on his alibi in the least.
"You ever have seats like that?" Ryan scoffs as he watches the interrogation unfold.
"Yeah, right," Espo laughs in response.
Suddenly Ryan looks over at his partner, Esposito realizing the exact same thing, and the two rush to the breakroom.
"If we can't solve our case just yet-" Ryan starts, picking up the remote.
"Let's poke a hole in theirs," Esposito continues, grabbing a couple bags of chips from the cupboard.
"I am so not shaving my head…" Ryan mutters as he turns on the TV.
Esposito's smug voice echoes through Castle's head as he rides up the elevator. "Castle, what size dress do you wear? Six? Eight?... Sixteen?"
How the heck did this happen? He was so sure they'd win the bet. He was so sure of her!
What the hell went wrong?
He releases a deep breath as he slides his key in the lock. Before turning it, a most disturbing thought enters his brain. Is he going to have to shave his legs too? Oh god.
He'll never get laid again if this gets out.
He closes his eyes as he rubs his palm against his face, covering his mouth and nose. Shit, shit, shit, shit, shit.
He releases a long, heavy breath before turning his key agonizingly slowly. Cracking the door open, he spies around the edge, sweeping a brief glance through the living space. The coast is clear. Nobody's home. Entering the loft, Castle heads straight for the kitchen. He needs a drink. A stiff one.
His mind in a haze, he suddenly stops in his tracks, attention drawn by a pile of blue, green and white material draped across the back of a chair.
'Maybe I can pull this off...' he ponders to himself, picking up Martha's dry-cleaned dress.
Looking at his reflection in the wine fridge as he holds the dress against his torso, he contemplates the vision of himself in drag, mesmerized by the frighteningly unmanly vision staring back at him. He's so entranced that he's startled by his daughter's voice behind him.
"Dad?"
Launching the dress to the floor, he pivots quickly. "Mm-hmm. Yes. You okay?"
Taken aback momentarily, Alexis thinks about asking about the dress… but decides not to bother. This is Rick Castle. The man who rides police horses in the nude and dresses up like a space-cowboy for fun. This is just another day in the life at Chez Castle.
And at this moment, he is so thankful of that.
Isn't this an interesting twist. Their cases are connected. Even Castle didn't see this coming...
As the three detectives and the author head out of the precinct to hunt down Wesley Grovner, Castle dares to ask the question that's at the back of all their minds.
"Now that we're all working the same case, does that mean the bet's off?"
"Hell, yeah," Esposito affirms without missing a beat.
Castle releases a light sigh of relief as he unconsciously runs his fingers through his hair. Esposito rolls his eyes as he catches Ryan doing the same.
So the bet is back on… and Jason Cosway just sits there, cocky smile on his face, as smug as can be. And he won't break.
As the pompous suspect meets Beckett's intense glare, Castle wonders just how long she'd be willing to sit there and wait for him to crack.
The three sit in silence for a few more minutes - fierce stares not breaking - when a slight grin teases at the edges of Beckett's mouth. Castle follows her lead as she rises from her chair.
"Get comfortable, Mr. Cosway," she glares as she opens the door, "you'll be here a while."
Castle clenches his fist, suppressing the urge to shove it in Cosway's face, as their suspect just replies with nothing but an arrogant smirk.
The writer pulls the door shut behind him, gritting his teeth. "That guy is such a dog!" he huffs as Beckett turns to face him.
"Yeah… an Alpha," she states with a grin.
Following her train of thought perfectly, Castle's eyes twinkle as he smiles, "Right… and every Alpha needs an Omega…"
"...and he found Eric Marx…"
"...weak and malleable…" Castle nods.
"...the perfect patsy..." Beckett adds pensively.
"...and breakable," he grins, wiggling his eyebrows.
"Yep," she smirks in agreement, heading for Interrogation Two. "Follow my lead?"
"Right there with you," he assures as she grabs the door handle.
Wiping all emotion from her face, Beckett steels herself as she twists the door knob. Making a grand, forceful entrance, she bursts into the room, interrupting the boys.
"Good you know your rights, Eric, because your buddy Jason just rolled on you," she bluffs, a satisfied smile teasing her lips.
Castle can't help but be turned on a little… she's so hot when she lies to suspects!
"New nickname, Ice-posito." Ryan lightly taps his partner with a folder in a congratulatory gesture.
Those two… so full of it. Pretending as if they knew the plan the whole time. Beckett can't help but roll her eyes at the boys. They just can't accept that she and Castle broke their suspect… male ego being what it is. But she's knows better… even though those two jokers will never admit to it.
"Well, that's neither here nor there," Esposito remarks, "because we won the bet."
Castle raises an eyebrow at the insinuation. "How's that?"
"Our guy broke."
"Yeah," Beckett smirks, sarcasm dripping from her voice. "Because we broke him."
"So what?" Ryan chimes in. "It's like soccer. You score in our goal, it's still our point."
"Soccer?" Beckett scoffs. "Really? You're going with that one?"
The Latino just shrugs. "Works for me."
The debate continues as they leave the precinct and head out for a well-deserved beer.
By the end of the evening, they settle on calling it even. Nobody will be coming in bald tomorrow.
And for some reason, they are all okay with that.
xxxxxx
Had a bit of time this week… thought I'd tackle episode 2.
This one was not easy...
Hope you liked what I did with it.
xxxxxx
Love to know your thoughts.
Judge away.