London, March 1994 - April 1996
Richard Castle, Watcher
Author: Starfox5
Rating: FR18
Crossover: “Castle”
Written for: TtH August Fic A Day Challenge
Disclaimer: BtVS/AtS characters belong to Joss Whedon/Mutant Enemy. Castle Characters belong to Beacon PIctures and ABC Studio. Please do not copy or take this story without my permission.
Summary: Having a family, including a baby, brings some changes to Castle's life.
London, March 1994
He was a husband and father. Richard Rodgers still couldn’t believe it, even while he was holding his daughter. Alexis Harper Rodgers. So small, so vulnerable. So … loud.
Holding his screaming daughter to his chest, gently rocking her in an attempt to calm her down, he turned to his wife: “Is this much screaming normal for a month-old baby?”
Mary, who had just fallen asleep, looked at him with half-lidded eyes. “According to my mother, yes. What did your mother say?”
“She said she would love to visit, but couldn’t stay for longer than a week at most, due to her new role in that play.” Richard answered.
“Yes, it’s normal then.” Mary turned on her side again, telling him without saying anything that he was on his own when it came to calm the little screamer down.
Rocking her back and forth - gently! - he walked out of their bedroom. Mary and lack of sleep didn’t mix well.
She didn’t need her diapers changed, so she was probably hungry. Or she just felt like screaming. He wouldn’t rule out demonic possession either, but Mary claimed she had checked that.
A bit later Alexis was quietly drinking her formula while Richard tried to read up on Suvolte Demons. Apparently, the current Slayer, India Cohen, had stumbled upon an egg-smuggling ring in France, and her Watcher had required a report. Reading with a baby in his arms was that difficult. He hadn’t gotten the hang of making notes with the same handicap - it wasn’t as if he could dictate the reports for the Council, unlike the draft for his next book.
Though he knew he shouldn’t be complaining - most families were not in the rather comfortable situation where both parents could work more or less at home. He could hire a nanny of course, money wasn’t an issue. He’d even be able to explain the vast amount of medieval weapons, and the odd modern variant, stashed in the flat as related to his work. The Wilkinsons would approve - it was the proper thing to do. Even if they also were subtly pushing for Mary to stop working, now that she was a mother, as that was also the proper thing to do. There not so subtle pressure didn’t help with Mary’s mood and lack of sleep. A nanny though would. But it would also mean that he and Mary would have to watch what they said at home. There was only so much you could explain as research for a book, or eccentricity, before the nice polite people came to check if you should be trusted with your children.
Hopefully Alexis would soon grow out of her current phase. And while he was at it, world peace would be nice as well.
*****
London, February 1995
The sound of silverware and dishes crashing to the floor alerted Richard tot he fact that Alexis had managed to get out of her playpen, again. Fearing the worst, he raced to the dining room, then stopped short, gaping.
Alexis hadn’t just managed to break out of her baby jail, she had also figured out that by pulling on a tablecloth, she could move her first birthday cake from the middle of the table, where she couldn’t get to it, to a more accessible location, such as the floor. His daughter was such a genius!
He was still laughing at the sight of Alexis, cute as a button face smeared with vast amount of chocolate cake that had missed her tiny mouth, sitting in the middle of the remains of the birthday dinner, when Mary arrived at his side.
“Alexis! What have you done!” his wife screeched. “Richard! Why didn’t you do something? Oh, no - that’s the good rug! And look at your face! Can’t you be a good girl, once in your life? Do you have to take after your father that much? I should spank you for this so you learn to behave!”
Alexis, who had been laughing along with her father, was now crying and sobbing. Richard quickly scooped her up and held her close, heedless of the damage that did to his clothes. Mary sent him a glare, then busied herself salvaging the dinner. At least the food hadn’t been on the table yet, but a number of the plates needed to be replaced. Richard had calmed down Alexis quickly enough, despite Mary’s outburst. Of course, knowing the Wilkinsons, he should not have been surprised that their daughter lacked somewhat in parenting skills, at least by the standards he adhered to. And given he had been raised by Martha Rodgers, that should tell anyone enough about that subject.
His mother still couldn’t really believe it that Richard was the sensible one when it came to raising Alexis, even though she had visited so often, Richard had started to call her ‘the world’s most expensive babysitter’.
“Now, let’s get you cleaned up, Alexis dear, while mum resets the table!” He scooped up a particularly large cake crumb stuck to her cheek with one finger and stuck it in his mouth. Then he whispered conspiratorially to the little tyke: “You’ve got great taste, kid! I wouldn’t have been able to wait until after dinner for such a tasty cake either!”
By the time Richard had cleaned up his daughter, and then himself, Mary had reset the table, got another cake from the bakery around the corner, and got the wine in the cooler so it would be ready when the guests arrived. If she had a bit more of a head for children, she’d be the perfect woman.
“So, Alexis, for the crime of stealing your own birthday cake, you are sentenced to another hour in jail!” Richard declared with the overly serious voice that his daughter had already realized meant he was not serious at all. She was giggling loudly when he put her down behind the bars.
Mary straightened his tie as soon as he turned towards her. He pouted. “I spent minutes getting that tie just correctly crooked. I’ve got an image to maintain! Being the uncultured yankee for a group of stuffy Brits is hard work, I’ll have you know!”
Mary fought to keep a smile off her face while she glared at him disapprovingly. Before she could say anything though the doorbell announced that the first guests had arrived. “Just don’t antagonize Mister Travers again,” she whispered.
“I antagonize him by merely existing,” he retorted. It wasn’t his fault the Council was led by a bloody pillock. By a damned asshole, he corrected himself.
“Richard!” Her glare intensified.
He held up his hands in a placating gesture. “OK, OK. I’ll not antagonize him.” When she nodded in satisfaction and some relief, he added “unless he does it first.”
The doorbell rang again, preventing another argument. Sometimes he felt that Mary was simply too proper, and too loyal to those old idiots. He shook his head while his wife went to open the door. Even Rupert agreed with him, and the man was as British as they got, and came from an old Watcher family.
*****
London, April 1996
“You know, most people hire a babysitter to go out, watch a movie, have sex for longer than 20 minutes…” Richard stated while working with a crowbar on the back door of an abandoned house.
“We’re not ‘most people’. We’re Watchers.”
“Not even most Watchers would hire a babysitter to go vampire hunting!” he grunted when the old wood finally splintered and the door swung open.
“Most Watchers get to hunt vampires as part of their work and are not stuck hunting information inside old books!” Mary sniffed. She held her cross in one hand and a stake in the other. With a glance towards him, she added: “Most Watchers use crossbows, swords and stakes too. Not that…”
“Very effective and very British weapon?” Richard picked the ‘Ack Pack’, also known as the ‘Flamethrower, Portable, No 2’, a World war 2-vintage British copy of a German design from World War 1, up and put the tank on.
“... 'monstrosity' was what I was going to say.”
“I would have gotten a more aesthetically pleasing American model, but I couldn’t get one of those as an antique here.” And his mother had refused to procure one for him in the US. One call from the police and the woman was spooked!
Mary didn’t answer, but stepped inside. He quickly followed, flamethrower ready. His wife shouldn’t be complaining. If not for this beast he wouldn’t have let her risk her life like this. Alexis needed her parents. If only Mary wasn’t so damn stubborn, and so determined to hunt vampires…
The stench of decaying flesh hit them soon after the door. “I guess this vampire is a fan of takeout food, instead of eating out.” Richard quipped. His humor got darker the more dangerous the situation went.
“As long as he doesn’t consider us a food delivery service…” Mary snorted, and then kicked open the door to what was once a living room or salon. They saw an old corpse on the table in the center, flies and maggots crawling all over it.
“Ugh. That demon never learned to clean up after himself.”
Mary glared at him, and he remembered their argument earlier that day. He didn’t know why she was still miffed - Alexis had taken her side, and cleaned up after herself! Even when he had tried to show her how to hide her mess!
Creaking floorboards gave them just enough warning for Mary to turn around and hold up her cross. The vampire that had been about to pounce on her recoiled, hissing at her and shielding his face. Richard pulled the trigger, and lit the demon up. It hadn’t even time to scream before it was just ashes falling to the floor.
“I am naming it “Doughnut of Death!” He happily declared. It was a much better nickname than “Lifebuoy”, in his opinion.
Mary shook her head. “If the bobbies stop us with this in the car, I will claim I don’t know you and was just hitching a ride after my car broke down.”
“You would still come visit me in jail though, wouldn’t you? Do British prisons allow conjugal visits?”
She didn’t answer but continued towards the exit. He didn’t understand why she wasn’t as happy as he was - the flamethrower had performed perfectly, after all, and would make killing vampires far safer than the usual methods. He'd never understand women.
Author: Starfox5
Rating: FR18
Crossover: “Castle”
Written for: TtH August Fic A Day Challenge
Disclaimer: BtVS/AtS characters belong to Joss Whedon/Mutant Enemy. Castle Characters belong to Beacon PIctures and ABC Studio. Please do not copy or take this story without my permission.
Summary: Having a family, including a baby, brings some changes to Castle's life.
London, March 1994
He was a husband and father. Richard Rodgers still couldn’t believe it, even while he was holding his daughter. Alexis Harper Rodgers. So small, so vulnerable. So … loud.
Holding his screaming daughter to his chest, gently rocking her in an attempt to calm her down, he turned to his wife: “Is this much screaming normal for a month-old baby?”
Mary, who had just fallen asleep, looked at him with half-lidded eyes. “According to my mother, yes. What did your mother say?”
“She said she would love to visit, but couldn’t stay for longer than a week at most, due to her new role in that play.” Richard answered.
“Yes, it’s normal then.” Mary turned on her side again, telling him without saying anything that he was on his own when it came to calm the little screamer down.
Rocking her back and forth - gently! - he walked out of their bedroom. Mary and lack of sleep didn’t mix well.
She didn’t need her diapers changed, so she was probably hungry. Or she just felt like screaming. He wouldn’t rule out demonic possession either, but Mary claimed she had checked that.
A bit later Alexis was quietly drinking her formula while Richard tried to read up on Suvolte Demons. Apparently, the current Slayer, India Cohen, had stumbled upon an egg-smuggling ring in France, and her Watcher had required a report. Reading with a baby in his arms was that difficult. He hadn’t gotten the hang of making notes with the same handicap - it wasn’t as if he could dictate the reports for the Council, unlike the draft for his next book.
Though he knew he shouldn’t be complaining - most families were not in the rather comfortable situation where both parents could work more or less at home. He could hire a nanny of course, money wasn’t an issue. He’d even be able to explain the vast amount of medieval weapons, and the odd modern variant, stashed in the flat as related to his work. The Wilkinsons would approve - it was the proper thing to do. Even if they also were subtly pushing for Mary to stop working, now that she was a mother, as that was also the proper thing to do. There not so subtle pressure didn’t help with Mary’s mood and lack of sleep. A nanny though would. But it would also mean that he and Mary would have to watch what they said at home. There was only so much you could explain as research for a book, or eccentricity, before the nice polite people came to check if you should be trusted with your children.
Hopefully Alexis would soon grow out of her current phase. And while he was at it, world peace would be nice as well.
*****
London, February 1995
The sound of silverware and dishes crashing to the floor alerted Richard tot he fact that Alexis had managed to get out of her playpen, again. Fearing the worst, he raced to the dining room, then stopped short, gaping.
Alexis hadn’t just managed to break out of her baby jail, she had also figured out that by pulling on a tablecloth, she could move her first birthday cake from the middle of the table, where she couldn’t get to it, to a more accessible location, such as the floor. His daughter was such a genius!
He was still laughing at the sight of Alexis, cute as a button face smeared with vast amount of chocolate cake that had missed her tiny mouth, sitting in the middle of the remains of the birthday dinner, when Mary arrived at his side.
“Alexis! What have you done!” his wife screeched. “Richard! Why didn’t you do something? Oh, no - that’s the good rug! And look at your face! Can’t you be a good girl, once in your life? Do you have to take after your father that much? I should spank you for this so you learn to behave!”
Alexis, who had been laughing along with her father, was now crying and sobbing. Richard quickly scooped her up and held her close, heedless of the damage that did to his clothes. Mary sent him a glare, then busied herself salvaging the dinner. At least the food hadn’t been on the table yet, but a number of the plates needed to be replaced. Richard had calmed down Alexis quickly enough, despite Mary’s outburst. Of course, knowing the Wilkinsons, he should not have been surprised that their daughter lacked somewhat in parenting skills, at least by the standards he adhered to. And given he had been raised by Martha Rodgers, that should tell anyone enough about that subject.
His mother still couldn’t really believe it that Richard was the sensible one when it came to raising Alexis, even though she had visited so often, Richard had started to call her ‘the world’s most expensive babysitter’.
“Now, let’s get you cleaned up, Alexis dear, while mum resets the table!” He scooped up a particularly large cake crumb stuck to her cheek with one finger and stuck it in his mouth. Then he whispered conspiratorially to the little tyke: “You’ve got great taste, kid! I wouldn’t have been able to wait until after dinner for such a tasty cake either!”
By the time Richard had cleaned up his daughter, and then himself, Mary had reset the table, got another cake from the bakery around the corner, and got the wine in the cooler so it would be ready when the guests arrived. If she had a bit more of a head for children, she’d be the perfect woman.
“So, Alexis, for the crime of stealing your own birthday cake, you are sentenced to another hour in jail!” Richard declared with the overly serious voice that his daughter had already realized meant he was not serious at all. She was giggling loudly when he put her down behind the bars.
Mary straightened his tie as soon as he turned towards her. He pouted. “I spent minutes getting that tie just correctly crooked. I’ve got an image to maintain! Being the uncultured yankee for a group of stuffy Brits is hard work, I’ll have you know!”
Mary fought to keep a smile off her face while she glared at him disapprovingly. Before she could say anything though the doorbell announced that the first guests had arrived. “Just don’t antagonize Mister Travers again,” she whispered.
“I antagonize him by merely existing,” he retorted. It wasn’t his fault the Council was led by a bloody pillock. By a damned asshole, he corrected himself.
“Richard!” Her glare intensified.
He held up his hands in a placating gesture. “OK, OK. I’ll not antagonize him.” When she nodded in satisfaction and some relief, he added “unless he does it first.”
The doorbell rang again, preventing another argument. Sometimes he felt that Mary was simply too proper, and too loyal to those old idiots. He shook his head while his wife went to open the door. Even Rupert agreed with him, and the man was as British as they got, and came from an old Watcher family.
*****
London, April 1996
“You know, most people hire a babysitter to go out, watch a movie, have sex for longer than 20 minutes…” Richard stated while working with a crowbar on the back door of an abandoned house.
“We’re not ‘most people’. We’re Watchers.”
“Not even most Watchers would hire a babysitter to go vampire hunting!” he grunted when the old wood finally splintered and the door swung open.
“Most Watchers get to hunt vampires as part of their work and are not stuck hunting information inside old books!” Mary sniffed. She held her cross in one hand and a stake in the other. With a glance towards him, she added: “Most Watchers use crossbows, swords and stakes too. Not that…”
“Very effective and very British weapon?” Richard picked the ‘Ack Pack’, also known as the ‘Flamethrower, Portable, No 2’, a World war 2-vintage British copy of a German design from World War 1, up and put the tank on.
“... 'monstrosity' was what I was going to say.”
“I would have gotten a more aesthetically pleasing American model, but I couldn’t get one of those as an antique here.” And his mother had refused to procure one for him in the US. One call from the police and the woman was spooked!
Mary didn’t answer, but stepped inside. He quickly followed, flamethrower ready. His wife shouldn’t be complaining. If not for this beast he wouldn’t have let her risk her life like this. Alexis needed her parents. If only Mary wasn’t so damn stubborn, and so determined to hunt vampires…
The stench of decaying flesh hit them soon after the door. “I guess this vampire is a fan of takeout food, instead of eating out.” Richard quipped. His humor got darker the more dangerous the situation went.
“As long as he doesn’t consider us a food delivery service…” Mary snorted, and then kicked open the door to what was once a living room or salon. They saw an old corpse on the table in the center, flies and maggots crawling all over it.
“Ugh. That demon never learned to clean up after himself.”
Mary glared at him, and he remembered their argument earlier that day. He didn’t know why she was still miffed - Alexis had taken her side, and cleaned up after herself! Even when he had tried to show her how to hide her mess!
Creaking floorboards gave them just enough warning for Mary to turn around and hold up her cross. The vampire that had been about to pounce on her recoiled, hissing at her and shielding his face. Richard pulled the trigger, and lit the demon up. It hadn’t even time to scream before it was just ashes falling to the floor.
“I am naming it “Doughnut of Death!” He happily declared. It was a much better nickname than “Lifebuoy”, in his opinion.
Mary shook her head. “If the bobbies stop us with this in the car, I will claim I don’t know you and was just hitching a ride after my car broke down.”
“You would still come visit me in jail though, wouldn’t you? Do British prisons allow conjugal visits?”
She didn’t answer but continued towards the exit. He didn’t understand why she wasn’t as happy as he was - the flamethrower had performed perfectly, after all, and would make killing vampires far safer than the usual methods. He'd never understand women.