Revenge of the Fett
Disclaimer: Round tripping it home to vote, because registering at college was a no go.
Post Ep for 5x06.
"God," she whispers as she turns around in the nearly dark bathroom.
That freaking Boba Fett doll. Seriously. Every time.
She calms her breathing and walks to the sink to wash her hands, listening as her over-sized child of a boyfriend snores in the bedroom. She glances back at the figure in the corner and nibbles on her lip. She really shouldn't.
She already got him back, and it took nearly an hour to get him back in the mood afterward, which, admittedly, had been highly entertaining. She smirks at herself in the mirror. Oh, yeah, she got him, and she got him good.
She should leave it at that. He's already pledged to spend her day off on Saturday watching Nebula 9. She should probably order a crap load of food, just to be nice about it. And, well, pigging out with Castle is fun. Some of his food creations are worth trying. Some.
Still, Boba Fett is just begging her to use him. He's been scaring the crap out of her for months now.
Her face splits in a yawn and she decides that revenge of the Fett can wait until morning. She leaves the bathroom and crawls into bed beside a thoroughly sated and sacked out Castle. She snuggles in and smiles as his arm shifts over her, totally unconscious.
She'll plot her revenge tomorrow.
"Holy Shit!" she squeals, tripping over her feet.
She tumbles to the floor, popcorn flying everywhere as he laughs from beneath her Creever mask, standing above her. She glares up at him, massaging her hip where she took the brunt of the fall.
"What the hell, Castle?" she demands, watching as he pulls the mask off and grins down at her.
"Now we're even," he declares, tossing the rubber monstrosity over to her desk.
"How? How are we even?" she demands, ignoring the hand he extends to her. She hauls herself up on her own merit, popcorn crunching beneath her socks. "You're cleaning this up."
He simply smirks at her. "Got you good."
"You're a moron," she decides, trying to save some of her dignity. There's not much left. She really does scream like a girl when she's not in cop mode.
"You have a cute little shriek," he tells her as he follows her back to the couch, their feet crushing more and more popcorn.
He goes to sit down next to her and she shakes her head, pointing toward the closet off the hall. "Vacuum, Creever boy."
"Now?" he whines.
"Now." She reaches out and presses play to resume their marathon. "It's not like you're enjoying this anyway."
"Hey now," he protests.
She just shrugs and turns her attention to the television, relaxing as her heart rate comes back down. He stares at her for a minute, she can feel his eyes boring into the side of her head, but she won't give him the satisfaction. Jerk.
She keeps her smile to herself as she hears him eventually trudge off to find her vacuum. He comes in and starts up the machine, the whirring wiping out the sound from the television. She just turns up the volume, turning away as he scowls.
Ten minutes and one admittedly dramatic act out later, he plops down beside her on the couch. He squishes around, definitely bumping her more than necessary. Eventually, he ends up right up against her, and she rolls her eyes as his arm makes its way over her shoulders.
"Don't think cleaning up absolves you," she mutters.
"Hey, you got me before," he argues, and she can hear the petulance in his voice.
"Yeah, after days of teasing. This? Totally unwarranted."
"Figured we were even since you are the biggest tease in the world. Come on, that outfit, and you ruined it with the mask?"
She glances over at him and raises an eyebrow. "As I remember, that evening was far from ruined, once you got over yourself."
"Permanent heart damage," he protests, giving her such a look that she can't help but crack a little. "Getting me all revved up then scaring the crap out of me? Cruel, Beckett."
"Yeah, well, tell it to the bruise on my hip," she mutters, fighting the smile that's starting to spread over her face. He really is irritatingly cute.
His hand instinctively curls down to her hip, his arm tight across her back as his fingers rub circles through her yoga pants. She grudgingly covers his hand with hers, because, beyond scaring the crap out of her, and ruining their snack, he is pretty sweet.
"But really. I did not know you could scream like that," he murmurs into her ear.
Okay, forget sweet. He's so going down.
The damn Boba Fett figure weighs a crap ton.
She pants silently as she hauls it into the bedroom, probably doing some kind of damage to her back. There's just no good place to get a hold on it.
And yet, she perseveres—gets it right up to his side of the bed. She bends over and puts her hand on her knee, wiping the sweat from the back of her neck with the other. It'll be worth it.
She straightens up and takes a moment to position the gun right by his face—far enough to make sure he doesn't get a shiner, but close enough scare the hell out of him.
After admiring her handiwork for a minute, she goes back into the bathroom and wipes herself down. She checks her cell on the counter and grins. It's nearly 5am. Perfect.
She flips off the light and then presses dial, waiting for the telltale sound of his phone ringing.
His ring tone for her is the death march? Seriously, Castle?
It takes him two rings before he grabs the phone.
"Beckett?" he slurs just as she slams her hand onto the light switch.
The scream he lets out is unearthly. She doubles over in hysterics as he tangles himself up in the sheets, shrieking and scrambling to get away from his attacker.
"What. The. Hell?" he lets out, cowering on her side of the bed as his eyes focus on Boba. "What? I—"
Then he spots her. She watches through tearing eyes as he gapes at her, his head snapping from the figure to her and back.
"Kate, what the hell?" he gets out, a little more under control. Still sounds like he's re-hitting puberty though.
"Now," she pants. "Now, Castle, we're even."
"You're—you're a horrible person," he decides as he pulls himself into a more dignified position. "Truly horrible."
"Oh, you don't mean that," she says, laughing as she makes her way back to the bed. He shuffles away from her and she scoffs. "At least I did it to you on a soft surface."
"But why?" he groans, looking over at Boba. "And how did you even?"
"May need a massage later," she admits, laughing as he scowls. Yeah, like he'll really say no to that. He's yet to give her one that didn't end in fantastic sex. "As for why? The other day at my place, and—" She gestures to the figure. "That thing has been scaring the crap out of me for months."
He blinks at her then looks over at Boba Fett. "Boba? Wouldn't hurt a fly."
Kate laughs and sits down by his hip, where he subconsciously made room for her. He glares at her for a moment then cracks a sleepy smile.
"Your heart gonna make it?" she teases.
"I'm made of more than that," he declares. "One armed Boba Fett can't take me down."
"You know, his gun looks a little like a Dalek blaster," she muses, looking over the massive figure, from the war helmet to the blaster.
"If you ever put a Dalek by this bed, serious hurt will befall you," he says instantly.
"You're afraid of those egg beaters?"
"They levitate, Beckett. And, kudos on your knowledge of Doctor Who."
"Yeah, well, Nebula 9 might be schmaltzy, but I do appreciate the more cultured sci-fi, Castle." She grins as his eyes light up.
"Doctor Who marathon next day off?"
"If you promise to leave the Creever mask alone."
He nods eagerly and reaches out for her, dragging her into his chest for a sleepy kiss. They get caught up in each other for a moment, before the ominous presence of Boba starts to get to her.
"Hey, Castle," she gets out between kisses.
"I'm a little sweaty from moving your friend there. What's say we take this to the shower?" she simpers.
"You're creeped out by Boba, aren't you?"
She hesitates but then glances at the masked head. "A little, yeah."
He laughs at her, then looks over his shoulder at the figure. "Ah, jeez, yeah. Come on."