Mock the Fic: Wet Teeeshirt Chapter 5


I cannot stress the importance for people to do their research when it comes to writing a story. It’s not hard. You don’t have to do eight pages with a minimum of 10000 words for the research. Just a simple google this will help when it comes to making your story not a piece of steaming crap. So here we go again, with this wet teeshirt fic. I cannot stress the fact that Amazon has lowered itself to sell this authors books. I can’t imagine how the book is based on how crappy her fics are.

Stats: Title:Wet Teeshirt Author:stevieLUVSAlex Summary: It’s the CAMPING trip that will change everything between the duo. Pranks… fun… friendly fire… and possiblly C&B fluff. You’re gonna love this. Rating: K+

A/N: This was fun to write. I love how at the end of every chapter, I find myself with a large grin set on my face.

Funny, I always end a chapter of this fic with a scowl on my face.

I hope you find the same experience… let the games begin! =)

Seriously, do we have to let them begin?

The degrees increased considerably over the course of the day. By 2 o’clock it had reached 42 degrees.

Whoa! Heat wave! At that temperature, we can all strip off our scarves.

Alexis and Ashley were swimming in the beach, and the adults, were seated under a shade umbrella, the women sun-baking on towels, and the men, drinking cold beer.

Are you kidding me? Swimming and its 42 degrees? Hello, hypothermia. Since this story references an episode that aired in November, and its deep into the fall temperatures, can you say hypothermia? Even at Celsius degrees that is 107ish degrees. No, get your facts right before you write a story. Yanks can be stupid, but not stupid enough to go swimming outside when its 42 degrees, let alone sun baking.

“You wanna swim?” Castle offered, standing up from the sand and holding out his hand to Beckett.

She hesitated. “No thanks,” she answered quietly. “I don’t like the water.”

Or maybe it’s because she’s smarter than the average dumb Yankee and knows better than to get hypothermia in the middle of the forest in New York.

“Why not,” he pressed. “It’s the best part of camping.”

Beckett shrugged. “Don’t like sharks. I’m quite content sitting on my towel and soaking up the sun.”

Where the hell are they camping that has sharks in the woods? Is this Down Town, New York?

Castle stared at her a moment. It would have been better had she been at least wearing a bikini. Instead, she was wearing shorts and a white t-shirt.

And where is this parka that she would need for said outfit if it’s 42 frakin degree’s outside. I don’t know about you, but that is cold.

At least he got a glimpse of the ‘package’ as he eyed off her long tanned legs.

What, is UPS now in this fic? I guess the brown truck goes everywhere, including the beach at Down Town, NY.

Beckett cleared her throat, and Castle snapped his eyes back up to her face.

“What?” he asked innocently.

“Mm-hu,” she moaned. “Don’t you have anything better to do?”

“As a matter of fact,” he answered wondering off towards the water.

Yes, he has the mystery of “Where the hell are we camping?” to solve. Chop chop Castle, get on top of that mystery. Please.

… … … … … …

It was when they were back at their campsite that Castle got his brilliant idea. He had been saving all his pranks for the second day of camping, but he didn’t want to overwhelm her with tricks. Besides, as she reminded him, she had a gun. He had to pick his battles.

He had the bucket already set up. He had only to attach it, and did so when she went into the tent for some “quiet time” when she came out, zipping the tent open and moved the flaps to exit, the bucket tipped, pouring the contents of cold water all over her.

How the hell do you do this in a pop up tent? Have you ever been even camping? Tents, are small, and I’m pretty sure that most tents you will notice as you try to unzip them that there is a bucket above it. Besides, you unzip the tent, then go in, not go in while you unzip. Therefore your logic fails me.

A squeal of terror leapt from her throat, as she stood still, drenched in water. It ran through her hair and down her face, soaking into the white t-shirt. His eyes were already drawn to the wet t-shirt, giving little imagination of what lay underneath, his pupils dilated as his eyes widened with obvious approval. Beckett whimpered as she began to tremble from the cold. It was like ice water.

And what, is she camping without a bra? Wow. Obviously you’ve never been hiking/camping before. Sports bra’s are your friend, but I’m guessing you don’t have anything on your chest to have to worry about and therefore don’t know what a bra does for a body.

“CASTLE! W-w-what the hell was that f-f-for?” she shivered. It resembled the sound that Castle had made the night before, chattering his teeth together as he slept on the ground in the tent.

Castle grinned, his eyes still lingering on the soaking t-shirt. “I didn’t want you to be hot…”

Yes, because it’s so blazing hot.

he explained lamely. Okay, he knew he could come up with a better response, but his concentration was avoidably detained.

All eyes turned to Beckett now. Ashley, Alexis and Ashley’s parents, plus the nearby campers that had heard the sudden squeal of horror that had been heard from a long distance, everyone was watching her.

Yes, because this is Down Town, NY and when you camp there, you place one tent in the middle and everyone can see what happens at said tent.

“CASTLE!” she snapped, seeing where his eyes were engaged.

“Yeah,” he answered quickly forcing his eyes to meet hers. The look on her face was priceless.

The sound of laughter echoed throughout the campsite, not just by Castle, but by the other nearby campers that had stopped by to watch the scene play out.

Wow, what kind of cruel campers are they camping with on this trip?

She looked down at herself, noticing instantly that her t-shirt was see-through. She folded her arms across her chest and groaned, shooting daggers at Castle. “I’m gonna get you for this!” she threatened. “In your sleep… when you least expect it… a slit throat… a screw driver to the temple… BE READY!” she warned.

Yes, because we all are allowed to commit manslaughter in Down Town, NY.

She turned on her heels then and went back into the tent.

Castle couldn’t help himself as he snickered watching her disappear into her safe haven.

… … … … … … … …

As Castle was reaching for a beer from the cooler, Beckett made her move. She knew that it was equally childish, but it was a spare of the moment decision. She snapped, like rice bubbles.

What are rice bubbles? Am I missing something being American who eats chicken and beef?

She reached out both of her hands and pulled the material of his board shorts with as much force as she could muster,

Why the hell is he wearing board shorts, in November, in the winter?

expecting to see the king jewels. Instead, the small group of campers was presented with a pair of tight boxer shorts on the man, adorned with pictures of Care Bears, and decorated with pink glitter.

Yes, because all the men I know who wear board shorts wear Care Bear boxers. Do they even make Care Bear boxers for men?

Now it was Beckett’s turn to laugh.

“Well, Castle…” she giggled. “I didn’t realize you had such a feminine side.”

His face evidently turned several shades red. “I deserve that,” he muttered.

I swear this is the stupidest story, ever.

“Oh, yeah,” she nodded.

She couldn’t pull her eyes away from the girl’s boxer shorts.

Wow, did he have to shop in the plus size in K-Mart for those?

Castle didn’t storm off like Beckett had. He took his payback with grace, already planning his next attack. He sat back down in his fold-up chair, sipping on his beer. The next prank, he thought, would have to wait until tomorrow.

That night around the campfire, they toasted S’mores again,

Stop capitalizing S’mores.

and instead of telling stories, they playing Chinese whispers,

What the hell is Chinese whispers and why does it sound racist?

some of them turning out to be rather humorous. Ashley’s parents, being of serious personality, managed to slip in a lecture to Beckett and Castle on the maturity level one must have when looking after teenagers with raging hormones.

Yes, because that’s what all Economist do is lecture people about hormonal teenagers. Boy was my Econ professor always on a bender about this instead of the income elasticity of demand. And trust me, I took three years of economy classes getting my bachelors. Don’t know what elasticity of demand is, google it.

Ashley and Alexis blushed.

Castle and Beckett glanced at one another, and shrugged. Castle was still going ahead with his response attack. No serious do-gooders would change that. Castle and Beckett liked Ashley’s parents, for the most part, they shared good conversation on a range of subjects, beside the obvious of course. But they had had a lot to learn about fun.

When bedtime approached, the subject of the sleeping bag was raised.

“Do we really have to share it again?” Beckett asked putting up a false argument.

“Do you have another idea?” he asked. “You could try sleeping on the ground tonight…”

This is the stupidest concept that a smart detective would not bring a sleeping bag camping.

“Dream on,” she snapped.

Without debating further on the matter, Beckett and Castle snuggled into the shared sleeping bag. This time, Beckett’s back was to his chest.

“Cherries,” he mumbled breathing in her hair.

Beckett felt her cheeks warm.

“Stop smelling my hair,” she ordered.

I can’t imagine how nasty those cherry smelling hair smell like being that this is day two since she’s washed it.

“It’s only fair,” he replied unapologetic. “You smelt me this morning.”

Beckett blushed in the dark. “Your stench was overpowering, I didn’t do it on purpose.”

“Liar,” he smiled.

Yes, because all girls like smelling Old Spice.

“Are you sure this is okay for you, Castle?” Beckett grinned to herself. “The sleeping arrangements I mean… here, in this sleeping bag.”

“What- yeah, of course, I’m fine, I’m good,” his voice cracked slightly.

Of course, because we all know Castle is going through puberty.

Being this close to Beckett for the second night in a row, he had NO complaints, except that he would have liked to fold her into his arms and cuddle her.

“Cause we can always drive into town tomorrow and buy you a Care Bears blanket,” she laughed.

You mean walking down the street of Down Town, NY?

Castle reached his hands around her waist and dug his fingers gently into her ribs. She responded quickly, screaming and squirming in the small, cramped sleeping bag. “STOP IT!” she ordered trying to contain her laughter.

“Say you’ll stop teasing me!” he ordered continuing his tickling fest.

“OKAY! Okay, truce!” she screamed wriggling against him.

He withdrew his fingers from her ribs, but kept his hand glued to her waist.

There was a moment of silence.

“Care Bear boxer shorts,” Beckett muffled a laugh into her pillow.

I feel like I am reading a two year olds attempt to write a sexual tension filled story.

“That’s it!” he announced. His fingers found their way back to her ribs, and she began to squirm again, and a squeal leapt from her throat.

“RICHARD! KATE!” a voice boomed.

Both stopped moving.

“SHUT UP!” It was Ashley’s father. “SOME OF US NEED SLEEP!”

Awkward.

“You aren’t setting a good example for the children, making all that noise,” came Ashley’s mother’s voice. “You would think it was the two of you with raging hormones.”

“Well you don’t have to be THAT harsh with ’em,” Ashley’s father replied to his wife. “A little consideration is all we ask. Don’t take away the romance from the couple.”

Wow, I’m surprised he didn’t work it into a graph and an economic lesson.

Alexis’ unique laugh was heard from her own tent.

Beckett blushed and turned her head looking up at Castle. Their eyes met, and they both smiled.

“I guess we better set a good example, we wouldn’t want to be mistaken for two teenagers with raging hormones,” Beckett announced snuggling down in the sleeping bag. Her head tucked under Castle’s chin.

Are they seriously having this conversation screaming through the woods from tent to tent? Where is Freddy Kruger when I need him?

“Yeah, no, we wouldn’t want that,” he agreed, his voice suddenly adopting a more serious tone.

Please tell me Freddy is in the next chapter. PLEASE!

I LOVE that I can put a mixture of fun and fluff into this FF and it works… I don’t even know why, but I can see his happening, with Beckett in a more relaxed atmosphere. She’s not stitched up. She does know how to have fun… I hope it is coming across that way. Let me know if you don’t like something, or it’s WAY too AU, and your agreement to where I’m taking the storyline, helps a great deal too.

So click away, if you have something to add. =)

I’d like to add something: “Do your research and don’t write crap because you imagined it!”

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Posted on December 21, 2010, in Brain Bleach, Clichéd Fic, Down Town, NY, stevieLUVSAlex, Uncategorized and tagged . Bookmark the permalink. 6 Comments.

  1. That shot heard round the world was me shooting my computer. Somebody should look me up to post my bail.

  2. You are doing such a better job at riffing on this than I could EVER do. I read up to chapter 12 or some damn chapter, thinking that I could help you out and do a guest mocking. Let me tell you, this fic? It gets WORSE. Much, much worse. Offensively bad. Literally. The subject matter becomes so much more insulting, offensive (have I mentioned that it’s offensive, yet?) immature, and–I’m gonna say it–retarded. Seriously. I think this “writer” might be retarded. Not developmentally delayed nor disabled. No, this person is retarded in the way that Jim Carrey’s and Jeff Daniels’ characters in “Dumb and Dumber” were retarded. Retarded. With 0 laughs.

  3. Rice Krispies (known as Rice Bubbles in Australia and New Zealand)

    Are you kidding me? Beckett popped like a breakfast cereal? If this person is going to make her readers (which I’m surprised she even has) resort to google to decipher her non-American slang for an American fandom she should have at least made it a mildly acceptable simile. But apparently we had to have Beckett snap, crackle and pop as she pulled Castle’s shorts down. And don’t even get me started on what was underneath those shorts. Honestly, I need one of those CIA memory erasers like agents in movies always seem to have. It’s the only way I’ll ever get over the trauma this story has caused.

  4. What the hell??? I’m still trying to figure out the setting / temperature in this fic. Sharks in a lake?? Daytime it’s very hot so they swim and enjoy the sun running around in shorts, and in the night it’s freezing??? I think I need to move over to FF.net later and leave a review there….this is unbelivingly bad!!!

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