#msmorg

[castleficpromoter]

Once Upon a Pizza, a castle fanfic | FanFiction

[castleficpromoter]

[boundby-choice]

So here's msmorg's birthday fic, which I couldn't get finished in time on the day itself or the days after because of work. :( So apologies for it being late, Morgen!

"Okay, let's get one thing clear before we set off, Castle," Kate starts, preventing her partner from pulling open his car door with a single hand covering the opening. "We are working, not going on a road trip."

"Got it," Castle replies, making light of her caution with a sarcastic salute and click of his tongue. He tugs on the door handle, only opening it slightly before Beckett pushes it closed again.

"I mean it, Castle. We're not going to Pennsylvania to have fun."

"All work; no fun. I hear you, Beckett. Loud and clear."

Her eyebrows arch, rising on her forehead as she waits for him to be serious for once. He just grins back, enjoying the morning more and more as the vein going into Beckett's hairline starts to tick. Frustrating Kate never could quite lose its appeal.

She lets loose a heavy sigh, dropping her hand. "We should go."

Resigned to a journey that will most likely be spent slapping Castle's hand away from the radio controls, Kate rounds the bonnet of her car and pulls open her own door, sliding into the driver's seat as Castle clips his seatbelt into place.

"Okay, so I brought M&Ms, Nerds, Twinkies, some Taffy, Starburst, Razzles oh and some Canadian Wine Gums because the flavours are really so much better. Whaddya want?" Castle asks, pulling a small plastic bag crammed full of candy from the inside of his jacket.

She glances right at him and the bag, momentarily forgetting about securing her seatbelt.

"What did I just say, Castle?"

He holds up his hands. "They're just snacks for the road. It's still a work trip, but with a little sugar to keep our energy up. 6-7 hours is a long time to be stuck in a car, Beckett."

"Did you need to buy the whole candy store?"

"Very funny, Beckett," he mutters, delving a hand inside the bag to grab a packet of M&Ms. Shaking her head, Beckett draws her seatbelt back into place and secures it before twisting the keys in the ignition. The engine rumbles to life, sounding like it's clocked a few hundred too many miles on the clock to be healthy but at least no smoke spews from it, as Castle tears the bag of candy open with his teeth. M&Ms scatter everywhere, plinking off the console and dropping out of sight into the footwells. He chuckles nervously as her gaze cuts back to him, eyes flashing with something a lot darker than mirth this time. "Oops?"

After a calming sigh, Kate turns away and directs her attention to driving out of the city, leaving her partner to clean up his own mess. It kind of grosses her out to see him eating the candy off the floor out of the corner of her eyes though.

"So, this conference," Castle mumbles, crunching hard-shelled chocolate at the same time, "what do you think they'll talk about?"

"Pennsylvanian policing procedures."

"Well obviously, but anything more specific than that?"

"You know, I still don't understand why you even want to go. It's a policing conference in Erie not a convention. You're bored by paperwork, Castle. How are you going to sit through a two hours conference on police tactics and the correct use of equipment?"

He shrugs. "Research is research, Beckett."

Two hours into the trip and Beckett is shocked her teeth haven't ground into dust from Castle's incessant fiddling of the radio stations and subsequent belting out cheesy 80s pop songs whenever the DJ condescends to play them. There hasn't been a moment's silence since they left the city. If he's not singing, he's playing I-Spy. By himself. And it's distracting.

"Okay, that one was easy. You definitely won't get this one."

Kate twiddles the volume dial of the radio round, attempting to drown out his voice in the questionable vocals of some Canadian rock band.

"I spy with my little eye… something beginning with... B!" He pauses. "And before you guess, it's not you, Beckett." She says nothing. "So, any guesses?" She turns the radio up louder again. "No? Okay, I'll tell you. I spy with my little eye a bird. I think it's a wren but I don't really know."

Three hours out from Erie, the snow starts appearing, great clumps of it sitting either side of the car, churned with grit and dirt from where it had been ploughed off the road, like riverbanks.

"I spy with my little eye something beginning with-"

"-Snow," Kate interrupts. "Haven't you had enough of I Spy yet?"

"Aw, come on, Beckett, it wouldn't be a road trip without a few games of I Spy."

She keeps her comments about what he defines as 'a few' and instead growls, "It isn't a road trip." He waves her away, muttering about semantics. "Montgomery asked for volunteers to go to this fricking conference and you so magnanimously volunteered us. Without consulting me, I might add." Only the previous evening had she been called into her Captain's office and given an envelope containing their tickets and fuel money.

"You can't seriously be regretting being out here." In the small space of the car, Rick spread his arms as wide as they would go. "Look at it, Beckett. No matter how much it snows in New York City, it never looks like this," Castle mumbled, staring at the white-blanketed road and the mountains either side of it. He was right, the snow would rarely stick long enough in the city, not with the thousands of feet traipsing the sidewalks every day. "Seriously, look over there!"

In slow motion she sees him leaning towards her, finger extending to point into the distance. His arm hangs before her eyes, blotting out her view of the mostly empty highway.

"Castle, I can't see!"

He draws his arm back quickly, but the damage is done. A wren sits in the middle of the road, unmoving under the rapid approach of her cruiser.

"Bird!"

"I know!" Beckett yells back, swerving to the right of the tiny creature frozen with fear and hurtling straight into the snowbank. The car comes to an untimely stop with a nasty crunch as the bonnet crumples under the weight of the snow and force of their crash.

The engine stutters and then it falls silent. The only sound besides their breathing is the shifting of the snow around them and for a moment Castle can't help but panic about avalanches. He glances out the window but all he sees is white, a wall of snow surrounding them.

"How much snow do you think is on top of us?"

Beckett hears the tremor in his voice, the thinly disguised fear.

"There's not enough snow to crush us," she tells him confidently, but she isn't really certain. How much snow would it actually take? She doesn't really want to stick around long enough to find out. Twisting the keys, she attempts to start the engine to no success. Great.

At her side, Castle tries his door, throwing all of his weight against the unyielding metal. Kate tries her own handle, already knowing that there is too much snow pressed against it to let the hinges swing the door open. Had the car not shot through the snowbank like a bullet, creating a well in the snow, they might have managed it. But at the speed and angle they collided with the bank, the snow is too compact around them.

Pulling out her cell phone, Beckett goes to call for a recovery vehicle to pull them out only to find that she has no signal.

"No bars," Castle says, checking his own phone. "Looks like we're going to be stuck for a while."

"It'll be fine," Kate tells him. "We survived nearly freezing to death. We can cope with being stuck in here for an hour or so until someone drags us out."

"I'll take that candy now," Beckett mutters.

Castle hands her the bag without comment. It's been twenty minutes and as far as they can tell no-one has even driven past. If they have, they haven't bothered to stop and help pull them out.

"Oh, now you're quiet." Typical.

"Well what do you want me to say?"

"Oh, I don't know," Kate snaps, "Maybe that you're sorry? This whole thing is your fault."

"My fault?" he parrots. "You're the one who swerved to avoid a wren!"

"We wouldn't even be here if you hadn't told Montgomery we would go to the conference."

"Well excuse me for wanting to learn a little more about your job and spend some time with you outside of the precinct."

He wanted to spend time with her? Oh. Swallowing, Kate turns to the window, finding her gaze returning to Castle after seconds because looking at the wall of snow ensconcing them and darkening the car is interminable.

"Sorry," she murmurs. He doesn't say anything. Not until she pulls a handful of Wine Gums out of the candy bag and offers him one.

"Thanks." It's still surly, but it's something. A moment later, he adds, "I am sorry, you know. I didn't mean for this to happen."

"I know, Castle."

"So how are things with you and Josh?"

"Hm?"

"Oh, just, you said the other week that you weren't that happy with him doing Doctors Without Borders so often. And then he stayed for you." She nodded but there was no happiness in the movement. "So how are things? Better?"

She sighs. "Not really. Don't get me wrong, Josh is great but…"

Castle picks up where she leaves off, thinking of Gina and his two failed relationships with her. "But things just aren't right. Easy. He's not what you want."

Kate swallows, speaks in a croak. "And how would you know?"

The last part came out by mistake; the effect of him thinking about how he had always found it hard whenever he and Gina went somewhere not to think about Kate and what Kate would think, but it's too late to take back.

"I know because that's how it was with Gina. You know who I wanted instead of her, didn't you?"

"Castle?"

With the effort of Atlas holding up the sky, he twists his neck and looks at her. It's all there, swimming in his eyes, he knows.

"Kate, I-" he tries, wants to explain, but he just can't.

"Castle for once in your life, stop talking," Kate breathes, reaching across the car for him.

Her hand slides along his cheek, warming his skin as her palm makes a beeline for his neck, tugging him to meet her lips.

"Kate?"

"You're right, okay? It's not Josh I want; it's you."

"Two hours stuck in a car with Castle?" Espo asks when she sits down at her desk the following day. "How did you not kill him?"

Kate shrugs, grinning to herself about exactly what it was she was doing when she wasn't murdering Castle.

[arc-avenging-fairytale]

msmorg

replied to your post

“probably shouldn’t be scrolling through my dashboard when I still...”

Yeah, I've come to accept my fate. I'm gonna get spoiled if I turn on my phone or computer or iPad. Yup.

Oh yeah, phone tumblr is the worst. No blacklisting. :’( Normally I’ll just remember and shut down Tumblr but I feel like aimlessly scrolling for a few hours. I could easily watch the episodes and catch up but I’m so tired I can’t be bothered. 

[msmorg]

Visit Original Link

The Tumblr Accent Challenge - because takeiteasykate did it and I thought it sounded fun. You can do it too if you want.

Your name and username

Where you’re from

Pronounce the following words: Aunt, Roof, Route, Theater, Iron, Salmon, Caramel, Fire, Water, New Orleans, Pecan, Both, Again, Probably, Alabama, Lawyer, Coupon, Mayonnaise, Pajamas, Caught, Naturally, Aluminium, GIF, Tumblr, Crackerjack, Doorknob, Envelope, GPOY

What is it called when you throw toilet paper on a house?

What is a bubbly carbonated drink called?

What do you call gym shoes?

What do you call your grandparents?

What do you call the wheeled contraption in which you carry groceries at the supermarket?

What is the thing you change the TV channel with?

Choose a book and read a passage from it.

Do you think you have an accent?

Be a wizard or a vampire?

Do you know anyone on Tumblr in real life?

End audio post by saying any THREE words you want

[boundby-choice]

Because msmorg has been super good to me and I felt like she needed cheering up

It’s the mish-mash of colours rushing past, the electric beat of music drifting around the open space of the centre, the loud greetings in dialects and languages made up in some sci-fi genius’ mind, the excited bounce in everyone’s step, the tangible thrum of energy running through the place. Without fail it all gets him every time, brings a beaming and unrelenting smile out onto his face. Yep, there’s nothing better than being in the middle of a convention, even if Castle is stuck behind a table for most of it, signing books instead of going to gawk at the King of the North. At least he’s right in the middle of the Marvel exhibition though. He’s already ogled the Iron Man armour and snuck one of the little POP! Iron Man figures into his gift bag jammed full of nerdy goodies.

Were he at New York Comic Con instead of Supernova Con, he might have been in the company of Robert Downey Jr himself or, even better, Stan Lee. Instead his only company is a few life-size statues that actually turn kind of creepy when the section’s rush of visitors dwindles and they’re looming figures are his only company. If he didn’t think Beckett would shoot him for adding another figure to his bathroom, he’d be real tempted by the group of Avengers or at the very least Thor brandishing Mjolnir. Picturing Beckett’s face as she walks through the bathroom and finds the polished surface of the hammer in her face almost makes him make the purchase anyway.

The occasional fan seeking a signature for their copy of the Storm Season graphic novel stops him from speaking to the bored-looking statue-custodian. At least until his partner disrupts his work for a change. After the way she teased him with that line about signing her chest – she knows he doesn’t do that anymore – the idea of starting a life-size figurine collection in his bathroom is beginning to look even more appealing. As he follows Kate away from his desk though and out of the space allocated to Marvel, he notices the shiny, concave surface of the actual Captain America shield though not just the plastic and incredibly fake-looking one positioned with one of the early concept costumes in a display case near his signing table. This one looks perfect – it’s dark-tinted red and blue paint gleaming even through the glass protecting it.

Beckett’s case would have been a pretty good distraction if he hadn’t repeatedly seen little boys and girls running past in makeshift costumes, some of them carrying the sweetest little cardboard shields, messily coloured in red and blue concentric circles with felt-tip pens. Whoever thought that Optimus Prime made a better cosplay than Mr Stars and Stripes himself was an idiot, Castle muses as he wanders back to his deserted signing desk to collect his things since the morgue is apparently calling to them.

It’s almost four thirty. Everybody’s leaving – the Marvel team busy shifting those Avenger figures back through the Convention Centre, though where they’re going once they leave the building, he has no idea. Nobody would mind if he had a bit of a closer inspection at Cap’s shield, right? It’s just sitting there in the open – not even in the display case anymore. It’s basically begging to be looked at.

The metal is light in his hands as he flips it over and checks out the tan leather straps attached to the back. It’s definitely the real deal.

He can’t help running his hands over it for a while as he thinks over and over again that Chris fucking Evans used it. He wonders if the straps have been loosened at all or if they’re still done to fit the actor. An amazed chuckle splits his lips as he slides his arm through them and finds the fit perfect.

“So. Cool,” he mutters to himself, testing the weight of the shield against an imaginary opponent.

In no time at all, he’s recreating some of the best fight choreography from the films, spinning to block flying punches, making an uppercut with the shield of the rim to knock out invisible enemy number two out cold. Hydra commando number five takes the full brunt of the shield in the chest and falls back several feet as Castle puts all his weight behind his shoulder, only to draw back and dispatch the Nazi with a super-serum fuelled punch. Soon they’re all gone.

The shield is easily removed from his arm and twirled between his fingers. He can even carry it in one hand, keeping it straight as he holds it like a Frisbee-

“You about done?”

Her voice comes out of the blue – despite the fact that she’d been standing watching for a few minutes. Obviously he was too engrossed in his fight with Hydra that he didn’t notice her and he startles so much that he spins and somehow his neurones make his fingers loosen, sending the shield straight…towards his girlfriend.

While he’s frozen to the spot, watching the object spinning through the air towards her, Beckett is much more mobile, pushing away from the metal support beam she’d been leaning against and merely stretching out an arm to catch hold of the shield. “What was that?” she demands.

“Reflex?”

Beckett rolls her eyes at his squeaky pitch and slots her own arm through the straps and God-damn is it hot? Even with the exasperated sigh she breathes out at him and the impatient stare she levels at him, she looks like a million bucks, like his very own Peggy Carter. Just in five inch stilettos…

“You didn’t tell me you were an SSR agent, Beckett,” he says, voice rumbling with suggestion as he approaches and slides a finger over the shield caught between their bodies.

She huffs at him, pushing his body backwards with the shield. “There’s a lot you still don’t know about me, Castle, like the fact that I have been trained to use riot shields. Now put this back and pack your stuff up. We’re working, remember?” Beckett says, enunciating each syllable clearly and nodding towards his table, which she can see is still piled with copies of his graphic novel.

His hands come up to frame the shield, fingers curling at the edge, but he doesn’t pull it away from her.

“Does the shield have to go back? Or could it maybe come home with us?”

She gives him a confused look. “Castle, it’s a prop shield. What do you need a prop shield for-“

“-Ah, but it’s not just any prop shield,” he interrupts. “It’s Captain America’s prop shield. And I think that it could make a great addition to the bedroom.” His voice dips, leaving no mistake about exactly what kind of addition it would make to the bedroom. She knew he was into role play, but really? Capsicle? Seizing her moment of silence, he exclaims, “You paused. You’re considering it.” Her gaze remains flat, unrelenting. “How do you feel about 1940s suits? Is that a yes? No? A fuck yes let’s role play the First Avenger?” He gasps, excitement spilling out of him as he’s struck with an idea. “I’ll let you show me your trick with ice.”

She scoffs. “You’ll let me show you?” Spinning on her heels, Kate calls out, “If you want to be part of the ice trick, Castle, you’ll grab your stuff and be ready to go to the morgue in five minutes.”

“So is that a yes?” He gets no answer. Beckett simply continues to walk away from the Marvel exhibition and back towards the front of the centre where her car’s parked outside. He repeats her words in his head. His stuff? The shield could be his stuff, right?

[castleficpromoter]

[inkstainedcoffeecup]

Hey Biatch, I would be much obliged if you would please write a oneshot about how dreadful Rick's gas is after eating a bowl of chili.

For you, msmorg:

Kate was just putting the finishing touch on dinner as Alexis and Martha clattered down the stairs, chattering a mile a minute.

“Katherine, darling, it smells amazing. What have you concocted for us?” Martha asked.

“Just my Mom’s old chilli recipe,” Kate said with a grin. Both redheads assumed matching expressions of unease, glancing at each other, then back at Kate.

“I just remembered I’m meant to… be meeting friends for study group,” Alexis stammered, clearly lying.

“Yes!” Martha all but shouted. “And I have an extra class. Yes. At my acting school. Mustn’t tarry.”

The pair of them began inching toward the door as Castle came out of the study. “Hey! What’s going on? Smells amazing, Kate!” he grinned enthusiastically.

“Gottarunbye!!” Alexis used her father’s arrival as distraction enough to slip out the front door, with Martha on her heels. Kate turned to him with a perplexed expression.

“Why did they run away when I mentioned chilli?”

Castle’s eye lit up. “You made chilli??? I’m never allowed chilli! Mother and Alexis think it makes me gassy.”

“Does it?” Kate raised an eyebrow at him.

He shook his head vigorously. “It’s all in their heads, I swear.”

Two hours later, she let herself into her old apartment, alone and swearing to herself to pay more attention to the redheads’ reactions in the future. She was engaged, it seems, to the king of flatulence.