Christmas Present for Meo
This is my Christmas Present for raapsteeltje . It's late. And you celebrate St. Nicholas. So it's SUPER late. Oops. That's because it's friggen HARD. :P I know this isn't what you were thinking, and I'm sorry about the semi-shittiness of it, but maybe you'll enjoy it anyways? Maybe.
Plus, Heat Wave just gives me an excuse to write too many Castle/Beckett drinking game fics. It's too easy, goddammit.
(Also, I don't think I've ever posted this often ever.)
Kate thinks that this probably wouldn't seem like such a good idea if she was sober.
Though, the time for making good choices is long past. When Richard Castle whips out a bottle of wine that he just happened to have with him and claims that it is time to celebrate a case well-solved (their fiftieth, in fact), well, usually a smart woman would say no. Kate Beckett, it seems, is not a smart woman.
Right now, though, she thinks her ideas are bloody brilliant, even if her sober self would disagree (and her sober self is a boring uptight woman with very few prospects who shouldn't complain because it's not like she ever has any fun without alcohol).
So at this time when she announces that they should play a lovely drinking game called "Retribution" it appears to be a perfectly legitimate, absolutely fantastic way to get Castle back for every time he ever was annoying ever.
A puzzled Castle asks the rules, and she grins in triumph (because she knows something he doesn't) and takes another sip of wine.
"It goes like this: one person suggests a wrong that has been done to her by someone else at the table, then together they decide what a suitable punishment would be, and then it is enacted," she explains, without slurring her words at all thank you very much.
"And how is this a drinking game?"
Kate furrows her brow. "I can't remember. I think we just both take a shot after we are successful."
Castle shrugs. "Alright, fine. But we're the only two people here."
It's true. Neither Ryan nor Esposito wanted to 'celebrate'. Actually, she hadn't either and had tried her best to get out of it. But Castle's questioning had been thorough and she hadn't found a reason not to that was suitable to him. And it was only after she had agreed that both of her so-called teammates announced that they both had appropriate excuses and left her, in her apartment, alone with the one man in the world who made her truly feel fear (I mean, did he really always have to stand so close?).
The room is dimly lit and they both sit on the overstuffed sofa that she has been meaning to replace. Beckett squints, trying to make out the reaction on Castle's face through the thin fuzz of alcohol and slight darkness.
"Then we'll just have to go back and forth."
Castle nodds, slouched against her couch. "You first," he says.
"Alright." She smiles in a predatory way, "I need to get back at you for every time you hit on me inappropriately."
He looks shocked. "What? I enjoy our banter very much! That isn't a wrong!"
Kate nods. "It is, it definitely is! Do you know how much harder you made my job that first time?"
"You liked it."
"I did not."
"You blushed. I saw it. You totally liked it."
"Castle! You're such a child.This is how the game works! Accept it!"
He pouts. "Fine. What's a good punishment for me?" He raises his eyebrow.
Her mouth opens into an "O" of scandal. "Not like that Castle."
Castle's face falls in disappointment. "Fine. Well. If you really disliked me hitting on you so much," he says, disbelief strong in his voice, "I suppose a good retribution would be you hitting on me."
Kate rolls her eyes, about to shoot back an insult, then stops. "Hmm... Maybe that's a good idea."
Castle perks up. "Really? I mean, yeah, totally."
Three seconds later he is rubbing his shoulder and trying his best not to let tears leak through his eyes.
"I didn't mean like that."
Beckett puts on her best innocent face, holding her giggle in with all her might. "Oh, sorry, I didn't know."
"Liar," he whines, grabbing at his shot glass and choking back a hit of vodka (seriously, where does he get all of this alcohol?) and then offers the other to her.
Kate takes it, wincing as it burns down her throat. She can feel it raging through her veins, heating her cheeks.
"Your turn," she replies, voice still tight from the taste of the alcohol.
The way his grin instantly turns mischievous unsettles her greatly.
He fakes deep thought, looking off into the distance and stroking an imaginary beard. With a flourish of hands he appears to come to the answer.
"I was just thinking about those couple of times you handcuffed me..."
This cannot be good. Beckett shakes her head furiously. "No Castle, whatever you're planning, no!"
He pulls out a pair of handcuffs from his jacket pocket. "I figured it's only fair."
"Did you steal those?"
He shrugs one shoulder noncommitedly. "That's the game, Beckett."
"Do you just carry them around?"
"Stop stalling!" He exclaims. "I figure we could bind you to your end table, it's high enough that you could still sit on the couch... semi-comfortably."
She grimaces and holds out her wrist to a victorious Castle who snaps on a cuff with surprising expertise and attempts to clip it to the table.
It is much too awkward, though, and Kate can't move, so he shrugs and, instead, fastens it to his own.
Kate stares in horror at the current predicament. Castle doesn't even seem to notice, reaching for the alcohol bottles with surprising ease considering the restricted movement available. He pours her a shot and inserts it into her free hand. Without even thinking she drinks it. She can hardly taste it anymore, but the severity of that doesn't register.
"Your turn," he says hoarsely.
Five rounds and an impressive amount of shots later they're both more than a little drunk.
"I need revenge for every time I've wanted to kiss you but couldn't!" Castle finally announces with much gusto.
Kate purses her lips in disapproval.
"And I think that good solution to that is to get to kiss you." He holds his finger in the air and thrusts it upwards, as if he's made a most genius of points.
"Castle-" She starts, then pauses. He's smiling in an almost endearing way, his head tilted, examining her. Why was she going to object to this again?
Castle puts a pair of clumsy fingers to her forehead, slowly brushing a fringe of hair away from her eyes. Her heart beats a little faster.
He kisses her softly, quickly, almost chastely, and she finds herself turning fearfully red.
He stops, moving backwards, looking at her with parted lips and wide eyes. Kate inhales quickly, not disliking the way her pulse beats through her. The world is hazy, but not in a bad way, and for the first time in a long time her mind feels relaxed.
So she reaches in again, grabbing a fistful of Castle's shirt and pulling him to her. There's teeth tugging on her bottom lip and it's wet and messy. They're both drunk and she can taste the remnants of vodka on his tongue. His body is warm against hers, and it's oddly comfortable when his hands find their way around her waist.
It's only when his fingers begin to fiddle with the back of her bra that she pushes him away and nearly jumps back in fright.
"I think it's time for you to go," she says hurriedly.
Castle looks put out, but nods in agreement. The way he's looking at her, like a kicked puppy, is nearly unbearable. But no, she can't relent. This would not end well. And as much as she wants to...
She shakes her head. It's the alcohol. And if she doesn't make him leave now she might do something she'd regret.
He pauses, then goes to stand up.
"Goodnight," he says, and then is yanked downwards. He holds up his wrist, seeing the chain dangling from it still, and looks at Beckett ruefully.
"Well, unlock it," she says expectantly.
He grins sheepishly and blushes slightly. "I don't have the key."
"You WHAT?"
Castle laughs nervously. "I guess I'll have to sleep here?"
Beckett groans.
Plus, Heat Wave just gives me an excuse to write too many Castle/Beckett drinking game fics. It's too easy, goddammit.
(Also, I don't think I've ever posted this often ever.)
Kate thinks that this probably wouldn't seem like such a good idea if she was sober.
Though, the time for making good choices is long past. When Richard Castle whips out a bottle of wine that he just happened to have with him and claims that it is time to celebrate a case well-solved (their fiftieth, in fact), well, usually a smart woman would say no. Kate Beckett, it seems, is not a smart woman.
Right now, though, she thinks her ideas are bloody brilliant, even if her sober self would disagree (and her sober self is a boring uptight woman with very few prospects who shouldn't complain because it's not like she ever has any fun without alcohol).
So at this time when she announces that they should play a lovely drinking game called "Retribution" it appears to be a perfectly legitimate, absolutely fantastic way to get Castle back for every time he ever was annoying ever.
A puzzled Castle asks the rules, and she grins in triumph (because she knows something he doesn't) and takes another sip of wine.
"It goes like this: one person suggests a wrong that has been done to her by someone else at the table, then together they decide what a suitable punishment would be, and then it is enacted," she explains, without slurring her words at all thank you very much.
"And how is this a drinking game?"
Kate furrows her brow. "I can't remember. I think we just both take a shot after we are successful."
Castle shrugs. "Alright, fine. But we're the only two people here."
It's true. Neither Ryan nor Esposito wanted to 'celebrate'. Actually, she hadn't either and had tried her best to get out of it. But Castle's questioning had been thorough and she hadn't found a reason not to that was suitable to him. And it was only after she had agreed that both of her so-called teammates announced that they both had appropriate excuses and left her, in her apartment, alone with the one man in the world who made her truly feel fear (I mean, did he really always have to stand so close?).
The room is dimly lit and they both sit on the overstuffed sofa that she has been meaning to replace. Beckett squints, trying to make out the reaction on Castle's face through the thin fuzz of alcohol and slight darkness.
"Then we'll just have to go back and forth."
Castle nodds, slouched against her couch. "You first," he says.
"Alright." She smiles in a predatory way, "I need to get back at you for every time you hit on me inappropriately."
He looks shocked. "What? I enjoy our banter very much! That isn't a wrong!"
Kate nods. "It is, it definitely is! Do you know how much harder you made my job that first time?"
"You liked it."
"I did not."
"You blushed. I saw it. You totally liked it."
"Castle! You're such a child.This is how the game works! Accept it!"
He pouts. "Fine. What's a good punishment for me?" He raises his eyebrow.
Her mouth opens into an "O" of scandal. "Not like that Castle."
Castle's face falls in disappointment. "Fine. Well. If you really disliked me hitting on you so much," he says, disbelief strong in his voice, "I suppose a good retribution would be you hitting on me."
Kate rolls her eyes, about to shoot back an insult, then stops. "Hmm... Maybe that's a good idea."
Castle perks up. "Really? I mean, yeah, totally."
Three seconds later he is rubbing his shoulder and trying his best not to let tears leak through his eyes.
"I didn't mean like that."
Beckett puts on her best innocent face, holding her giggle in with all her might. "Oh, sorry, I didn't know."
"Liar," he whines, grabbing at his shot glass and choking back a hit of vodka (seriously, where does he get all of this alcohol?) and then offers the other to her.
Kate takes it, wincing as it burns down her throat. She can feel it raging through her veins, heating her cheeks.
"Your turn," she replies, voice still tight from the taste of the alcohol.
The way his grin instantly turns mischievous unsettles her greatly.
He fakes deep thought, looking off into the distance and stroking an imaginary beard. With a flourish of hands he appears to come to the answer.
"I was just thinking about those couple of times you handcuffed me..."
This cannot be good. Beckett shakes her head furiously. "No Castle, whatever you're planning, no!"
He pulls out a pair of handcuffs from his jacket pocket. "I figured it's only fair."
"Did you steal those?"
He shrugs one shoulder noncommitedly. "That's the game, Beckett."
"Do you just carry them around?"
"Stop stalling!" He exclaims. "I figure we could bind you to your end table, it's high enough that you could still sit on the couch... semi-comfortably."
She grimaces and holds out her wrist to a victorious Castle who snaps on a cuff with surprising expertise and attempts to clip it to the table.
It is much too awkward, though, and Kate can't move, so he shrugs and, instead, fastens it to his own.
Kate stares in horror at the current predicament. Castle doesn't even seem to notice, reaching for the alcohol bottles with surprising ease considering the restricted movement available. He pours her a shot and inserts it into her free hand. Without even thinking she drinks it. She can hardly taste it anymore, but the severity of that doesn't register.
"Your turn," he says hoarsely.
Five rounds and an impressive amount of shots later they're both more than a little drunk.
"I need revenge for every time I've wanted to kiss you but couldn't!" Castle finally announces with much gusto.
Kate purses her lips in disapproval.
"And I think that good solution to that is to get to kiss you." He holds his finger in the air and thrusts it upwards, as if he's made a most genius of points.
"Castle-" She starts, then pauses. He's smiling in an almost endearing way, his head tilted, examining her. Why was she going to object to this again?
Castle puts a pair of clumsy fingers to her forehead, slowly brushing a fringe of hair away from her eyes. Her heart beats a little faster.
He kisses her softly, quickly, almost chastely, and she finds herself turning fearfully red.
He stops, moving backwards, looking at her with parted lips and wide eyes. Kate inhales quickly, not disliking the way her pulse beats through her. The world is hazy, but not in a bad way, and for the first time in a long time her mind feels relaxed.
So she reaches in again, grabbing a fistful of Castle's shirt and pulling him to her. There's teeth tugging on her bottom lip and it's wet and messy. They're both drunk and she can taste the remnants of vodka on his tongue. His body is warm against hers, and it's oddly comfortable when his hands find their way around her waist.
It's only when his fingers begin to fiddle with the back of her bra that she pushes him away and nearly jumps back in fright.
"I think it's time for you to go," she says hurriedly.
Castle looks put out, but nods in agreement. The way he's looking at her, like a kicked puppy, is nearly unbearable. But no, she can't relent. This would not end well. And as much as she wants to...
She shakes her head. It's the alcohol. And if she doesn't make him leave now she might do something she'd regret.
He pauses, then goes to stand up.
"Goodnight," he says, and then is yanked downwards. He holds up his wrist, seeing the chain dangling from it still, and looks at Beckett ruefully.
"Well, unlock it," she says expectantly.
He grins sheepishly and blushes slightly. "I don't have the key."
"You WHAT?"
Castle laughs nervously. "I guess I'll have to sleep here?"
Beckett groans.