Castle fic 1/1
Okay, you can blame ithildyn for this one (sort of). It's thanks to her that I've seen the trailer for the next episode of Castle and I was inspired to write this crack:
Disclaimer: None of it's mine, not one little bit.
Our Mr. Castle
Castle opened bleary eyes and blinked in the bright sunshine. He was lying flat on his back on what felt like sand or fine, dry dirt; it had obviously been one hell of a party. For the life of him he could not recall how he’d arrived in this position, so he lay still and waited for his brain, or someone else, to fill in the blanks.
Suddenly he was aware of a female voice speaking near him.
“You alright, cap’n?” she asked. A face loomed into view that Castle recognised but couldn’t quite place. The woman was leaning over him, a mix of concern and amusement on her face and Rick realised she had been addressing him.
“Er….fine, I guess,” he answered, confused. The woman offered him a hand and helped him to his feet. As he dusted himself off, Rick noticed two things: he was in a desert with this strangely familiar woman, and he was still wearing his Halloween costume. “What happened?” he asked. The woman chuckled and clapped him on the back.
“C’mon, cap’n. I didn’t hit you that hard. Don’t go fohng luh on me now. We got enough of that with River,” she answered.
Rick stared at her as he realised who she was. She was Zoe Washburne and she thought he was Mal Reynolds. But since that was completely impossible this was either an elaborate joke or he was dreaming. Castle smiled and wagged a finger at ‘Zoe’.
“Did Beckett put you up to this? No, she wouldn’t have that kind of money. What about Cannell? It’s just his sort of stunt.”
“Who, sir?” Zoe replied with a look of complete confusion.
Either she was one hell of an actress, or she genuinely didn’t know who Cannell was. So, dream then. That would teach him not to eat cheese late at night and then fall asleep on the couch with his costume on.
At least he hoped that this was a dream. Everything was so vivid, so real; he could even smell cordite in the air where someone had fired a gun recently and he couldn’t quite quell the nagging suspicion that even his imagination wasn’t this good.
For now he’d just play along and hope that he woke up soon.
“So, the plan worked then, Zoe?” he asked. Zoe smiled.
“Amazingly, yes,” she replied. She continued to relate everything that happened and as she talked Rick thought over all the episodes he’d seen and realised that in almost every one, their plans went horribly wrong, often with Mal ending up beaten or tortured. He fervently hoped he’d wake up really soon.
Disclaimer: None of it's mine, not one little bit.
Our Mr. Castle
Castle opened bleary eyes and blinked in the bright sunshine. He was lying flat on his back on what felt like sand or fine, dry dirt; it had obviously been one hell of a party. For the life of him he could not recall how he’d arrived in this position, so he lay still and waited for his brain, or someone else, to fill in the blanks.
Suddenly he was aware of a female voice speaking near him.
“You alright, cap’n?” she asked. A face loomed into view that Castle recognised but couldn’t quite place. The woman was leaning over him, a mix of concern and amusement on her face and Rick realised she had been addressing him.
“Er….fine, I guess,” he answered, confused. The woman offered him a hand and helped him to his feet. As he dusted himself off, Rick noticed two things: he was in a desert with this strangely familiar woman, and he was still wearing his Halloween costume. “What happened?” he asked. The woman chuckled and clapped him on the back.
“C’mon, cap’n. I didn’t hit you that hard. Don’t go fohng luh on me now. We got enough of that with River,” she answered.
Rick stared at her as he realised who she was. She was Zoe Washburne and she thought he was Mal Reynolds. But since that was completely impossible this was either an elaborate joke or he was dreaming. Castle smiled and wagged a finger at ‘Zoe’.
“Did Beckett put you up to this? No, she wouldn’t have that kind of money. What about Cannell? It’s just his sort of stunt.”
“Who, sir?” Zoe replied with a look of complete confusion.
Either she was one hell of an actress, or she genuinely didn’t know who Cannell was. So, dream then. That would teach him not to eat cheese late at night and then fall asleep on the couch with his costume on.
At least he hoped that this was a dream. Everything was so vivid, so real; he could even smell cordite in the air where someone had fired a gun recently and he couldn’t quite quell the nagging suspicion that even his imagination wasn’t this good.
For now he’d just play along and hope that he woke up soon.
“So, the plan worked then, Zoe?” he asked. Zoe smiled.
“Amazingly, yes,” she replied. She continued to relate everything that happened and as she talked Rick thought over all the episodes he’d seen and realised that in almost every one, their plans went horribly wrong, often with Mal ending up beaten or tortured. He fervently hoped he’d wake up really soon.