Repining
Title: Repining
Rating: T
Pairing: Castle/Beckett <3
Summary: This is a bad, bad movie.
A/N: Many thanks to aprilvolition for getting rid of my pesky writer's block with her wonderful ideas. Also, if you can guess the movie, you get a cookie... and a hug for having suffered through it too. There should really be a support group.
Word Count: About 1000
"What the-" Beckett cut herself off before she allowed the expletive to escape. She glanced over at the teen who had been reclined in the chair at the start of the movie, but was now leaning on the edge, resting her chin in her palm, elbows on her knees. Kate doubted she would either notice or mind if she's dropped the word. Still though, she wasn't sure exactly what picture Alexis had painted of her in her mind, and she didn't want to shatter it. The idea of being someone's role model was confusing, but she decided that it didn't take much to be one these days. Didn't she hear that Jersey girl with the absurd hair say she thought of herself as a good role model?
The screaming from the surround sound system jerked her attention back to the flat screen in front of her. This movie really was awful.
"Okay, gross," Alexis muttered when one of the characters stated that she wasn't feeling well as blood leaked from her eyes. "I'm going to research for a little while. Let me know when the next movie starts," and with that she rose and made her way from the room, her pace accelerating when the screams again began to echo through the room.
Kate's eyes followed her out the door, silently wishing she could run away too, or at the very least consume a lot more vodka. A lot more vodka. At least half a bottle's worth. A drunken haze would probably make this movie more logical, and the camera work was already making her nauseous, so why not? Why did filmmakers think it was a good idea to shoot with hand-held cameras? If they did their job correctly they wouldn't have to rely on such a cheap trick to make the viewer feel as though they are taking part in the movie. That aside, she was sure the answer was more alcohol. The one drink she'd had after dinner was not nearly enough. She turned her head toward the kitchen wondering how much effort it would take to go fetch the drinks.
Too much effort. Definitely too much. She groaned in despair.
Once again, the escalating noise of the television drew her back to face the screen, where she looked in horror at the familiar streets of Manhattan overrun with armed services firing their weapons ceaselessly. Repining, she was sure, was the only response the filmmakers' had wanted to elicit, especially from her. She watched, with her mouth agape, as an alien chewed one of the characters before dropping him back to the ground. The shrillness of the boy's friends' cries finally broke her. With a scoff, she threw the remote at the coffee table in front of her and drew the blanket around her shoulders closer to her body.
Castle, who had been observing her petulance from his desk in his office, concluded that she had been sufficiently punished with this particular movie choice. He was impressed, really, at how far she made it through the film, but there was no sense in prolonging her suffering. He saved what little progress he had made in his latest chapter before standing to rummage through his desk drawers for his emergency provisions he kept hidden from his mother. Grumbling, he rifled through all of his top secret hiding spots, growing more and more frustrated as he discovered that each one had been looted. When his hunt finally bore success, he shook his head in dismay. Of course she would leave only the cheapest bottle of booze he had in the house. Where did it even come from? Surely it would never be something he would buy. It would have to do. With it, he made his way toward the woman in his living room that was doing everything in her power to not to watch the two kids running through Central Park.
"What's the matter, Detective? Did you need something to get you through the rest of this travesty?" Castle mocked, loud above the disaster on screen, as he came in from his office brandishing a bottle of Absolut in his hand. He couldn't help but to laugh at her expression of gratitude. "Thought so." He poured them both half a glass, before raising his in salute to the television.
Kate had never been so relieved to feel the sting slide down her throat and settle in her stomach, and before Castle had even finished his salute, she snatched the cup from his hand and downed his as well. She wasn't quite sure what his expression was saying, but it appeared to be a combination of bewilderment and amusement. After placing the glasses aside, she shifted closer to him, wrapping him up in the blanket with her. "I'm going to need more than a few drinks after watching that asinine waste of time," she whispered against his neck before taking his ear lobe between her teeth.
"Did you just say something about watching my ass being a waste of time?"
She pushed him to recline and stretched her slender body over his while trailing kisses from his ear, down his neck, to the small patch of skin on his chest left uncovered by his shirt. When she pressed her hips down against his, he rolled them over and took advantage of the vast expanse of skin that her tank top offered to him. Unsatisfied with the material impeding his ability to taste more of her, he grabbed the hem and lifted it.
A sudden yelp caused them both to freeze. "Oh my God. Dad, your room is just upstairs!" Alexis yelled, shielding her eyes before running up the stairs and slamming her bedroom door.
"Well, hey, at least the movie's over," Kate says, breaking the silence, as she notices the credits rolling.
Rating: T
Pairing: Castle/Beckett <3
Summary: This is a bad, bad movie.
A/N: Many thanks to aprilvolition for getting rid of my pesky writer's block with her wonderful ideas. Also, if you can guess the movie, you get a cookie... and a hug for having suffered through it too. There should really be a support group.
Word Count: About 1000
"What the-" Beckett cut herself off before she allowed the expletive to escape. She glanced over at the teen who had been reclined in the chair at the start of the movie, but was now leaning on the edge, resting her chin in her palm, elbows on her knees. Kate doubted she would either notice or mind if she's dropped the word. Still though, she wasn't sure exactly what picture Alexis had painted of her in her mind, and she didn't want to shatter it. The idea of being someone's role model was confusing, but she decided that it didn't take much to be one these days. Didn't she hear that Jersey girl with the absurd hair say she thought of herself as a good role model?
The screaming from the surround sound system jerked her attention back to the flat screen in front of her. This movie really was awful.
"Okay, gross," Alexis muttered when one of the characters stated that she wasn't feeling well as blood leaked from her eyes. "I'm going to research for a little while. Let me know when the next movie starts," and with that she rose and made her way from the room, her pace accelerating when the screams again began to echo through the room.
Kate's eyes followed her out the door, silently wishing she could run away too, or at the very least consume a lot more vodka. A lot more vodka. At least half a bottle's worth. A drunken haze would probably make this movie more logical, and the camera work was already making her nauseous, so why not? Why did filmmakers think it was a good idea to shoot with hand-held cameras? If they did their job correctly they wouldn't have to rely on such a cheap trick to make the viewer feel as though they are taking part in the movie. That aside, she was sure the answer was more alcohol. The one drink she'd had after dinner was not nearly enough. She turned her head toward the kitchen wondering how much effort it would take to go fetch the drinks.
Too much effort. Definitely too much. She groaned in despair.
Once again, the escalating noise of the television drew her back to face the screen, where she looked in horror at the familiar streets of Manhattan overrun with armed services firing their weapons ceaselessly. Repining, she was sure, was the only response the filmmakers' had wanted to elicit, especially from her. She watched, with her mouth agape, as an alien chewed one of the characters before dropping him back to the ground. The shrillness of the boy's friends' cries finally broke her. With a scoff, she threw the remote at the coffee table in front of her and drew the blanket around her shoulders closer to her body.
Castle, who had been observing her petulance from his desk in his office, concluded that she had been sufficiently punished with this particular movie choice. He was impressed, really, at how far she made it through the film, but there was no sense in prolonging her suffering. He saved what little progress he had made in his latest chapter before standing to rummage through his desk drawers for his emergency provisions he kept hidden from his mother. Grumbling, he rifled through all of his top secret hiding spots, growing more and more frustrated as he discovered that each one had been looted. When his hunt finally bore success, he shook his head in dismay. Of course she would leave only the cheapest bottle of booze he had in the house. Where did it even come from? Surely it would never be something he would buy. It would have to do. With it, he made his way toward the woman in his living room that was doing everything in her power to not to watch the two kids running through Central Park.
"What's the matter, Detective? Did you need something to get you through the rest of this travesty?" Castle mocked, loud above the disaster on screen, as he came in from his office brandishing a bottle of Absolut in his hand. He couldn't help but to laugh at her expression of gratitude. "Thought so." He poured them both half a glass, before raising his in salute to the television.
Kate had never been so relieved to feel the sting slide down her throat and settle in her stomach, and before Castle had even finished his salute, she snatched the cup from his hand and downed his as well. She wasn't quite sure what his expression was saying, but it appeared to be a combination of bewilderment and amusement. After placing the glasses aside, she shifted closer to him, wrapping him up in the blanket with her. "I'm going to need more than a few drinks after watching that asinine waste of time," she whispered against his neck before taking his ear lobe between her teeth.
"Did you just say something about watching my ass being a waste of time?"
She pushed him to recline and stretched her slender body over his while trailing kisses from his ear, down his neck, to the small patch of skin on his chest left uncovered by his shirt. When she pressed her hips down against his, he rolled them over and took advantage of the vast expanse of skin that her tank top offered to him. Unsatisfied with the material impeding his ability to taste more of her, he grabbed the hem and lifted it.
A sudden yelp caused them both to freeze. "Oh my God. Dad, your room is just upstairs!" Alexis yelled, shielding her eyes before running up the stairs and slamming her bedroom door.
"Well, hey, at least the movie's over," Kate says, breaking the silence, as she notices the credits rolling.