AN: Caskett Appreciation Week 2020 prompt 7: free choice. Thank you so much for sticking around with this fortnight. Hope you enjoy this last little fic, too!
Inspired by the latest Nikki Heat book Crashing Heat (excluding the murdered girl in Rook's bed).
The sign saying 5 miles to Cambridge flashed by on her right and Kate Beckett became a little giddy. Nearly there.
After their daily video call last night, the bed had felt more empty than ever. It had been five weeks since Castle had left to teach in a summer programme at his alma mater. Which meant there were three more to go until he was back in bed next to her again. She had laid awake, tossing and turning, for over an hour until she'd had the idea to go visit him. Her higher-up had informed her not so nicely a few weeks ago that she had a bunch of vacation days left, anyway. So that's what she did first thing in the morning. She called into the precinct, telling them she wouldn't be in until Monday, packed a go-bag, and jumped into the car.
She easily found her way to the parking lot in front of the literature building. At least, in summer, she had no trouble finding a spot. She left her bag in the car and made her way over to the large brick building. Once inside, she only had to follow the sound of the low timbre she had missed over the past weeks.
She cracked open the door to the auditorium. It was packed but she spotted a seat near the back she could probably get to without disturbing the class. She sat down and settled in to watch her man do his thing.
The students around her all seemed very into his explanation of prose in different genres, laughing at the occasional joke thrown in. About twenty minutes before the end of class, Castle began answering the eager students' questions. Beckett was happy to just listen to him to talk about stuff she knows nothing about. That is, until a certain young man five rows in front of her to the right asked his question.
"Mister Castle, I sometimes have trouble knowing what would interest a reader. How do you know what to write about?" he asked.
"Well, I always say, write what you know," Castle answered. "If it interests you, it probably will interest the reader too. If you're stuck on what to write about, get inspiration from real life. Tell your own story, your friend's, your neighbour's. Of course, I'm not saying quote your life completely. But do paraphrase a bit if you're stuck."
He moved to sit on his desk instead of standing next to it. "For example, I work with an NYPD murder squad. As a mystery writer, I can take inspiration from the things I see happening around me there to put into my books. They are the brilliant minds that solve the mysteries, I am just the genius that writes them down." He winked at that last part and the entire room chuckled.
Beckett decided to go for it and raised her hand. "So you admit that you aren't as smart as the detectives and just follow them around like a lost puppy, annoying them like a nine year-old on a sugar rush?" she asked, effectively breaking her cover. Small gasps were heard all around the room.
But the smile spreading across Castle's face was priceless. "Well, I think they are the most amazing team I've ever had the pleasure of working with. Especially their leader, she's incredible. And hot."
They looked at each other in challenge. Well done, you got me there.
He suddenly remembered the group of students in front of him and shook himself out of his thoughts. "Everyone, this is my wife, my partner, my muse, one of New York City's finest." He smiled again as the class erupted in laughter at the antics of their professor and his partner.
Castle thanked the class for their attention and ended the class, ready to spend the weekend with his genius, conniving wife.