A/N: I started writing this in November and since then my google doc has gained 65k words. I wasn't even going to post any of this but the people of twitter decided I should? Shoutout to angel flayeddemo for being the only person to read all my writings and ramblings and keeping me insane enough to keep writing this gay shit
Rebecca Castle was in trouble. Not at that specific moment, mind you, a rarity in itself, but as soon as the book party was over and she was out of the public eye, she knew Gina would be back to nagging her. Hell, her own mother was calling her out for her shortcomings. Leave it to Martha Rodgers, she supposed. Alexis was so much better about not asking about her work, for which she's grateful. Her daughter did, however, come to the pre-release party for Storm Fall, but she was doing homework while the adults drank and mingled. At least one member of the Castle family is responsible.
She's behind on her writing. Like, way behind. Hell, she doesn't even have a character to start with; not after she killed off Derrick Storm. No, that man had gotten boring. She wanted something new, something fresh, something like—
Oh. Maybe something like the detective that had walked up to her and asked her about a murder that had taken place that evening.
Yeah. That could work. That could definitely work.
Kate Beckett could honestly say she did not expect to be meeting her favourite author this week. Sure, she was expecting to be called out to a body past the confines of a usual 9-5 job, but she's a homicide detective, and murder never runs on a schedule, much to her and her partners' chagrins. That part was pretty normal. But after someone staged murders to look like scenes out of Rebecca Castle's books, things definitely took a turn for the weirder.
Interrupting a book party to bring the author in for interrogation was… a scene. She hadn't resisted or anything, she just made it entirely about her. The detective and the uniform surrounding her had tried to be discrete, but it's like Castle wanted a show. There was definitely an audience for it, an audience here specifically for her.
Is this really how rich people behave in front of other rich people?
Kate had tried to forget that she herself had wanted to get tickets to this very event, though her status as a homicide detective hadn't exactly put her up there with New York City's most elite, and she had therefore not been invited to the pre-release of Storm Fall. It was okay. She'd just have to wait another few weeks for her preordered copy to come into her local bookstore.
After a uniform had marched the author into Interrogation Room 1 and Kate was as prepared as she'd ever be, she stepped inside and closed the door.
Come on, get it together, she's just an ordinary suspect. A suspect who just so happens to be your favourite author.
The author watched her through half-lidded eyes, coated in dark eyeshadow. It gave her a look of calm indifference. Which, the detective supposed, was better than the extremely volatile or upset suspects she'd had to deal with in homicide.
But the calm didn't last. No, Rebecca Castle got excited about the murders. Not the psychopathic I-did-it kind of excited (besides, she was already sure Ms. Castle was innocent and had nothing to do with the murders), but that the existence of a copycat was fascinating to her. If that hadn't made Kate want to end the interrogation quickly, the flirting sure did.
Jesus, she'd heard the author had a womanizing personality, but she hadn't known it was this bad.
And on top of all that, the most infuriating thing was that after that, Rebecca Castle had managed to worm her way into the investigation. Sure, she'd proven to be smart and useful, and the hour-long-instead-of-week-long wait for fingerprint identifications was less of a strain on the case, but the writer's attitude towards everything just pissed Kate off.
Sir, she is like a nine year old on a sugar rush.
And now she was basing a character on her. Maybe before she met Castle she'd have been okay with this, even honoured to have her favourite author shadow her for research, but the thought of being stuck with this woman on murders unrelated to the Tisdale case made her uncomfortable. As Esposito had said— "A control freak like you with something you can't control?" She'd brushed him off, but that really was the truth of it. Her partners listened to her, followed her instructions, but Castle? She was as good at taking orders as a two year old.
Even if she was occasionally helpful in solving cases.
Now, two weeks after their initial meeting, she just wanted Castle gone, friendship with the mayor be damned.
It worked. She'd talked to the mayor, the captain, signed the necessary waivers, and now she'd successfully gotten into the NYPD homicide division at the 12th Precinct.
And, most importantly (to Black Pawn, that is), she was writing again. As soon as she'd started shadowing Detective Beckett, it was like the writer's block had vanished. Castle had been able to write paragraphs about potential crime scenes, flirty banter between her two projected main characters, enticing interrogation scenes, and even the beginnings of an actual story plot.
Almost all of her inspiration came from one source: Kate Beckett.
Castle knew she'd hit right on the mark that first day they'd been working together, when she'd cold read Beckett. ("I don't know, Rebecca. You're the novelist, you tell me.") Sure, she was sort of spitballing, but the tears in the detective's eyes told her she was close. While her initial reaction had made Castle back off, her writer's instincts told her to find out more.
So, that's exactly what she did.
A/N: let me know if you want me to keep posting this! It follows canon but there aren't only going to be canon scenes in here but umm. hi also follow my twitter/insta for cool castle art millsartsy