FIC: Brouha at the Roosevelt
Does anyone on my flist watch Castle? Okay, this fic might just be for me. :)
Title: Brouha at the Roosevelt
Fandom: Castle
Summary: Castle's on his way to the Hamptons when he gets an urgent call.
Timeline: Set immediately after the Season 2 finale A Deadly Game.
Rating: PG-13
Word Count: 500
Author's Note: This was my reaction to the finale.
He's sitting in a taxi, hand on Gina’s knee, when his cell phone rings.
“Beckett, you missing me already? I just lef-”
“And hello to you, too, Castle.” He hears her heavy sigh crackle against the speaker. “Look, I don’t have time for the witty repartee part of this conversation. There’s been a murder.”
He raises an eyebrow. The right corner of his mouth goes all rogue smirky grin. “And you called me on my way to the Hamptons so I wouldn’t feel left out? That’s very thoughtful. Am I going to be getting memos all summer for cases I’m not working on?”
“I called you because this is big. Huge. The kind of high profile case that makes or breaks your career. And if I don’t do it right, I’ll get buried. I… I need your help. Please.”
Castle turns away from Gina, speaking softly into the phone. “What is it? Who? What happened?”
“How soon can you be here?”
“Where’s here?”
“The Roosevelt Hotel. Third floor.” Her voice drops to a hushed urgency. “Castle, hurry.”
He lowers the phone, still in a daze, then taps the taxi's plastic partition. “New destination. Take us to the Roosevelt Hotel.”
***
The elevator doors open to show Beckett slouching against the wall, arms crossed, head cocked to the side.
Her expression is that classic mixture of impatience and exasperation. “Took you long enough.” She turns and strides down the hallway, gaze straight ahead, focused, ignoring the floral decorations and landscape paintings gracing the walls.
He hurries after her. “I let Gina take the taxi home. So what’s the big brouha? Are we talking political thriller with a side of sex scandal thrown in? Deviant torture meets international mob hit?”
Kate stops in front of a door, whips out a key and swipes it into the electronic lock. Gripping the door handle, she looks over her shoulder and says, “Worse. Way worse.”
She disappears into the dark room. Castle inches closer, peering through the darkness, then yelps when Kate’s hand shoots out, grabs him by the shirtfront and jerks him inside. She kicks the door shut, shoves him back against the door and leans in close, her lips hesitating a breath’s span from his mouth.
He gulps. “So the, uh, high profile murder case was all a pretext to get me up here… alone… with you… in this hotel room?”
Her hands wander down his arms then across his chest to slip inside his jacket and press against his waist, pulling him closer. “You finally caught on to that, huh?”
He closes his eyes to collect himself, coughs out a laugh, then, slowly, he lets a delighted grin spread across his face. “Liar, liar, pants on fire, Detective.”
“Is that gonna be a problem?” She brushes her lips against his.
“The lying? The you lying so you could lure me here and take advantage of me…" He licks his lips. "...sexually?”
“Lying’s such a harsh word. I prefer to call it… creative writing.”
“Ooh,” he chuckles, “so that’s how we’re gonna play it?”
“Castle…” She grabs his collar and yanks him down. “Shut up and kiss me.”
“Aye aye, sir.”
***
Title: Brouha at the Roosevelt
Fandom: Castle
Summary: Castle's on his way to the Hamptons when he gets an urgent call.
Timeline: Set immediately after the Season 2 finale A Deadly Game.
Rating: PG-13
Word Count: 500
Author's Note: This was my reaction to the finale.
He's sitting in a taxi, hand on Gina’s knee, when his cell phone rings.
“Beckett, you missing me already? I just lef-”
“And hello to you, too, Castle.” He hears her heavy sigh crackle against the speaker. “Look, I don’t have time for the witty repartee part of this conversation. There’s been a murder.”
He raises an eyebrow. The right corner of his mouth goes all rogue smirky grin. “And you called me on my way to the Hamptons so I wouldn’t feel left out? That’s very thoughtful. Am I going to be getting memos all summer for cases I’m not working on?”
“I called you because this is big. Huge. The kind of high profile case that makes or breaks your career. And if I don’t do it right, I’ll get buried. I… I need your help. Please.”
Castle turns away from Gina, speaking softly into the phone. “What is it? Who? What happened?”
“How soon can you be here?”
“Where’s here?”
“The Roosevelt Hotel. Third floor.” Her voice drops to a hushed urgency. “Castle, hurry.”
He lowers the phone, still in a daze, then taps the taxi's plastic partition. “New destination. Take us to the Roosevelt Hotel.”
***
The elevator doors open to show Beckett slouching against the wall, arms crossed, head cocked to the side.
Her expression is that classic mixture of impatience and exasperation. “Took you long enough.” She turns and strides down the hallway, gaze straight ahead, focused, ignoring the floral decorations and landscape paintings gracing the walls.
He hurries after her. “I let Gina take the taxi home. So what’s the big brouha? Are we talking political thriller with a side of sex scandal thrown in? Deviant torture meets international mob hit?”
Kate stops in front of a door, whips out a key and swipes it into the electronic lock. Gripping the door handle, she looks over her shoulder and says, “Worse. Way worse.”
She disappears into the dark room. Castle inches closer, peering through the darkness, then yelps when Kate’s hand shoots out, grabs him by the shirtfront and jerks him inside. She kicks the door shut, shoves him back against the door and leans in close, her lips hesitating a breath’s span from his mouth.
He gulps. “So the, uh, high profile murder case was all a pretext to get me up here… alone… with you… in this hotel room?”
Her hands wander down his arms then across his chest to slip inside his jacket and press against his waist, pulling him closer. “You finally caught on to that, huh?”
He closes his eyes to collect himself, coughs out a laugh, then, slowly, he lets a delighted grin spread across his face. “Liar, liar, pants on fire, Detective.”
“Is that gonna be a problem?” She brushes her lips against his.
“The lying? The you lying so you could lure me here and take advantage of me…" He licks his lips. "...sexually?”
“Lying’s such a harsh word. I prefer to call it… creative writing.”
“Ooh,” he chuckles, “so that’s how we’re gonna play it?”
“Castle…” She grabs his collar and yanks him down. “Shut up and kiss me.”
“Aye aye, sir.”
***