[ 10_hurt_comfort: chuck/casey ] [ Drunk: Semantics ]
[ Fandom | Chuck ]
[ Characters | Chuck / Casey ]
[ Rating | PG-13 ]
[ Word Count | 1,428 ]
[ Masterlist | Here ]
[ Summary | More mission!fic goodness with a side helping of fluff as Chuck comes back drunk from a mission. Contains Bryce / Sarah ]
[ Disclaimer | If I were the owner of Chuck, there would have been more Casey and Chuck giving one another smouldering gazes. So nada, I just play in this sandbox. ]
He was always stuck as the bartender on their missions lately. Whilst Casey found himself rather at home behind the bar, sometimes he wished to be the one flirting with the target for once. Walker and Chuck had such little faith in his seduction skills. He'd have them know he'd seduced plenty women before either of them were out of diapers, despite whatever Roan says. He flunked that course twice because his partners had gotten distracted when clothes became a necessity as a floor ornament so it hadn't been his fault whatsoever. He shook the margarita in his hand and served it up to the waiting customer, bidding the lady a good night.
Chuck sat at the bar, nursing a drink - alcoholic this time around because Chuck had earned it. Hell, part of Casey wanted to join him. Part of the reason his asset was sitting in the corner was so Casey could keep a good eye on him lest the kid ran off again. Casey was sure if it wasn't Bryce Larkin that had waltzed in announcing lending quite a willing and helping hand and that they needed him - Casey would have made sure the bullet second time around stuck, straight through the middle of Larkin's pretty blue eyes.
"Gosh they're pretty."
The wistful sound of Chuck's voice made Casey pause as he mixed an order of Bloody Mary. It wasn't the first nor the last time Chuck would be saying that either. The kid sighed as he kept his brown eyes trained on Walker. The 'they' Chuck had been referring to was of course Walker and Larkin attracting attention as they danced a path of fire on the dance floor. Ever since Larkin had whisked the blonde into his arms, Chuck hadn't been doing his job like he was meant to be. They weren't here to sit around and see if their target was a big a fan of tango as the next bad guy. Casey knew how to tango long before Larkin knew how to spell his own name in crayons.
When he was certain no one else was looking, Casey flicked a small ice cube towards Chuck and watched it bounce off his forehead into his cup satisfactorily. "Focus, Bartowski. We're here to see if you flash on the target." The NSA agent kept a close eye on Chuck, watching as the kid resolutely gripped his glass and downed its contents in one swallow. Chuck's face contorted as the alcohol burned its way down his oesophagus but otherwise didn’t react. He let out a small approving grunt. Hell if he let this became the Walker-and-fucking-Larkin show (or the Walker-fucking-Larkin show, whatever. Semantics).
"Oh. Nonononononono. C-Casey. Caseycaseycasey." Gone was the wistful tone in Chuck's voice. This time around, it had a more excited and scared sound to it. The soldier within Casey immediately stood to attention and he flicked his eyes immediately to Chuck. He found himself leaning closer to Chuck as the kid rattled off the number of things the Intersect had helpfully pieced together in his flash. The target was a short balding man going by the name of Milano who dabbled in a little bit of everything. "...nuclear weapons Casey! We need to tell Sarah..." His blue eyes turned cold. For the damn security of this nation, Casey would make sure they stopped him. By the looks of the two CIA agents that were grinding and making out on the middle of the dance floor, Casey was once again the go-to man for the job. Typical Walker.
Casey signalled for one of the other bartenders to take over and elegantly hopped over the counter. If Larkin was allowed to pop up out of the blue like that, then Casey was more than happy to act impulsive and do his damn job. "Let's go, Chuck, and stick close." The younger man squeaked in an unmanly fashion as Casey pulled him towards a side door. Past experiences said Chuck was most likely to land himself in hot water when Casey wasn't looking and the NSA agent would make sure that wouldn't be happening again. As it turned out, Milano was once again poking around in something he shouldn't have been and the mission finished without much of a hitch. There must have been better ways to go around importing banned fuzzy slippers but Casey wasn't going to judge this time around. Lesser men have been put away for stranger crimes.
Casually, Casey sauntered towards Chuck who was waiting by the Crown Vic. His eyes were trained on the Audi that Larkin and Walker were currently piling into. Undoubtedly the final destination was going to be in Walker's bed. He unlocked the car door and watched as Chuck folded himself into the passenger seat. The entire drive home was filled with Chuck's babble that seemed determined to talk about everything but Sarah. Chuck’s words were slurring together just a little bit. Hmm, maybe he had put a little too much vodka into the kid's drink. There was still a long way to go before the nerd even remotely obtained a decent alcohol tolerance.
"...Gosh, you're pretty Casey. Never thought I'd say this but you have the prettiest pair of eyes. Blue like the sky and like sapphires. Even better than Sarah's..." Casey felt his entire body stiffen and was rather glad they had run into a red light. He turned his head to find Chuck smiling goofily at him and then hiccupped. "And this jaw... I told you... it's like Michelangelo carved it out of marble right?" Ahh yes, the truth serum mission had been a hoot. The nerd sniffled, his eyes turning a little glassy.
"I don't wanna be alone, you know Casey?" The light turned green and Casey grunted in agreement. A sober Chuck was typically filled with chatter so Casey was waiting for something intelligent to come out of a very drunk Chuck. Possibly the daft things Chuck was spewing would cancel out with the drink and lead to something believable and completely logical. The NSA agent knew that he may as well have been grasping at straws since logic was a bit of a foreign concept to Chuck. He was startled when Chuck’s bushy head settled on his shoulder and a quick look down at the young man confirmed he was asleep.
"You've got me, Chuck," Casey spoke quietly and wrapped an arm around Chuck’s shoulders to keep him warm. He drove the Vic with one hand, making good on his promise to keep Chuck safe.
*
Chuck awoke with a splitting headache and a soft groan. He brought his hand up to his face and scrubbed gently. It was morning and the sun was obnoxiously cheerful as it streamed in through the blinds. Another groan was pulled from his throat as his head throbbed and he threw an arm over his eyes to shut out the light as best as he could. Bits and pieces of the night before flashed in his mind.
“Slept well I see,” Casey’s cheerful voice piped up from the Morgan door. Chuck replied with an unintelligible whimper and felt the bed dip as Casey sat down next to him. He felt Casey gently pry his hand away from his face and pressed strong soothing thumbs against Chuck’s temples. The gentle pressure he found there helped ward the pain away temporarily and Chuck purred softly. “I brought you some aspirin and water. You should feel better afterwards.”
He sat up with the help of Casey and leaned gratefully into his handler. The pills were taken and swallowed with water. Chuck kept a grip on Casey’s shirt sleeve as the older man tucked him back into bed. “Stay with me, Casey. Please?” Casey found himself at the receiving end of two molten pools of chocolate that could melt anyone. The NSA agent nodded and climbed into the other side of Chuck’s bed, plenty of room in there to keep up his surveillance of Chuck.
Casey laid a hand against Chuck’s head as the nerd used his lap as a pillow with all intentions of sleeping away his slight hangover. “Get some rest, Chuck. I’ll be here when you wake.” Chuck smiled to himself, feeling much better than he did about the whole Sarah and Bryce thing. After all, nothing could compare to what Chuck had at that moment. Casey only hoped that he wouldn’t have to explain to Ellie why he was in her little brother’s bed and holding his hand before Chuck woke up.
Author's Comment Fifth one for 10_hurt_comfort. Drunk Chuck is so much fun to play with. I expect alcohol will become a good plot device for future fanfictions. Chuck is still in that middle-ish area about the whole Sarah and Bryce thing. Now if only he can explain what it is that he has at that moment aside from a NSA agent in his bed. /waggles eyebrows
[ Characters | Chuck / Casey ]
[ Rating | PG-13 ]
[ Word Count | 1,428 ]
[ Masterlist | Here ]
[ Summary | More mission!fic goodness with a side helping of fluff as Chuck comes back drunk from a mission. Contains Bryce / Sarah ]
[ Disclaimer | If I were the owner of Chuck, there would have been more Casey and Chuck giving one another smouldering gazes. So nada, I just play in this sandbox. ]
He was always stuck as the bartender on their missions lately. Whilst Casey found himself rather at home behind the bar, sometimes he wished to be the one flirting with the target for once. Walker and Chuck had such little faith in his seduction skills. He'd have them know he'd seduced plenty women before either of them were out of diapers, despite whatever Roan says. He flunked that course twice because his partners had gotten distracted when clothes became a necessity as a floor ornament so it hadn't been his fault whatsoever. He shook the margarita in his hand and served it up to the waiting customer, bidding the lady a good night.
Chuck sat at the bar, nursing a drink - alcoholic this time around because Chuck had earned it. Hell, part of Casey wanted to join him. Part of the reason his asset was sitting in the corner was so Casey could keep a good eye on him lest the kid ran off again. Casey was sure if it wasn't Bryce Larkin that had waltzed in announcing lending quite a willing and helping hand and that they needed him - Casey would have made sure the bullet second time around stuck, straight through the middle of Larkin's pretty blue eyes.
"Gosh they're pretty."
The wistful sound of Chuck's voice made Casey pause as he mixed an order of Bloody Mary. It wasn't the first nor the last time Chuck would be saying that either. The kid sighed as he kept his brown eyes trained on Walker. The 'they' Chuck had been referring to was of course Walker and Larkin attracting attention as they danced a path of fire on the dance floor. Ever since Larkin had whisked the blonde into his arms, Chuck hadn't been doing his job like he was meant to be. They weren't here to sit around and see if their target was a big a fan of tango as the next bad guy. Casey knew how to tango long before Larkin knew how to spell his own name in crayons.
When he was certain no one else was looking, Casey flicked a small ice cube towards Chuck and watched it bounce off his forehead into his cup satisfactorily. "Focus, Bartowski. We're here to see if you flash on the target." The NSA agent kept a close eye on Chuck, watching as the kid resolutely gripped his glass and downed its contents in one swallow. Chuck's face contorted as the alcohol burned its way down his oesophagus but otherwise didn’t react. He let out a small approving grunt. Hell if he let this became the Walker-and-fucking-Larkin show (or the Walker-fucking-Larkin show, whatever. Semantics).
"Oh. Nonononononono. C-Casey. Caseycaseycasey." Gone was the wistful tone in Chuck's voice. This time around, it had a more excited and scared sound to it. The soldier within Casey immediately stood to attention and he flicked his eyes immediately to Chuck. He found himself leaning closer to Chuck as the kid rattled off the number of things the Intersect had helpfully pieced together in his flash. The target was a short balding man going by the name of Milano who dabbled in a little bit of everything. "...nuclear weapons Casey! We need to tell Sarah..." His blue eyes turned cold. For the damn security of this nation, Casey would make sure they stopped him. By the looks of the two CIA agents that were grinding and making out on the middle of the dance floor, Casey was once again the go-to man for the job. Typical Walker.
Casey signalled for one of the other bartenders to take over and elegantly hopped over the counter. If Larkin was allowed to pop up out of the blue like that, then Casey was more than happy to act impulsive and do his damn job. "Let's go, Chuck, and stick close." The younger man squeaked in an unmanly fashion as Casey pulled him towards a side door. Past experiences said Chuck was most likely to land himself in hot water when Casey wasn't looking and the NSA agent would make sure that wouldn't be happening again. As it turned out, Milano was once again poking around in something he shouldn't have been and the mission finished without much of a hitch. There must have been better ways to go around importing banned fuzzy slippers but Casey wasn't going to judge this time around. Lesser men have been put away for stranger crimes.
Casually, Casey sauntered towards Chuck who was waiting by the Crown Vic. His eyes were trained on the Audi that Larkin and Walker were currently piling into. Undoubtedly the final destination was going to be in Walker's bed. He unlocked the car door and watched as Chuck folded himself into the passenger seat. The entire drive home was filled with Chuck's babble that seemed determined to talk about everything but Sarah. Chuck’s words were slurring together just a little bit. Hmm, maybe he had put a little too much vodka into the kid's drink. There was still a long way to go before the nerd even remotely obtained a decent alcohol tolerance.
"...Gosh, you're pretty Casey. Never thought I'd say this but you have the prettiest pair of eyes. Blue like the sky and like sapphires. Even better than Sarah's..." Casey felt his entire body stiffen and was rather glad they had run into a red light. He turned his head to find Chuck smiling goofily at him and then hiccupped. "And this jaw... I told you... it's like Michelangelo carved it out of marble right?" Ahh yes, the truth serum mission had been a hoot. The nerd sniffled, his eyes turning a little glassy.
"I don't wanna be alone, you know Casey?" The light turned green and Casey grunted in agreement. A sober Chuck was typically filled with chatter so Casey was waiting for something intelligent to come out of a very drunk Chuck. Possibly the daft things Chuck was spewing would cancel out with the drink and lead to something believable and completely logical. The NSA agent knew that he may as well have been grasping at straws since logic was a bit of a foreign concept to Chuck. He was startled when Chuck’s bushy head settled on his shoulder and a quick look down at the young man confirmed he was asleep.
"You've got me, Chuck," Casey spoke quietly and wrapped an arm around Chuck’s shoulders to keep him warm. He drove the Vic with one hand, making good on his promise to keep Chuck safe.
*
Chuck awoke with a splitting headache and a soft groan. He brought his hand up to his face and scrubbed gently. It was morning and the sun was obnoxiously cheerful as it streamed in through the blinds. Another groan was pulled from his throat as his head throbbed and he threw an arm over his eyes to shut out the light as best as he could. Bits and pieces of the night before flashed in his mind.
“Slept well I see,” Casey’s cheerful voice piped up from the Morgan door. Chuck replied with an unintelligible whimper and felt the bed dip as Casey sat down next to him. He felt Casey gently pry his hand away from his face and pressed strong soothing thumbs against Chuck’s temples. The gentle pressure he found there helped ward the pain away temporarily and Chuck purred softly. “I brought you some aspirin and water. You should feel better afterwards.”
He sat up with the help of Casey and leaned gratefully into his handler. The pills were taken and swallowed with water. Chuck kept a grip on Casey’s shirt sleeve as the older man tucked him back into bed. “Stay with me, Casey. Please?” Casey found himself at the receiving end of two molten pools of chocolate that could melt anyone. The NSA agent nodded and climbed into the other side of Chuck’s bed, plenty of room in there to keep up his surveillance of Chuck.
Casey laid a hand against Chuck’s head as the nerd used his lap as a pillow with all intentions of sleeping away his slight hangover. “Get some rest, Chuck. I’ll be here when you wake.” Chuck smiled to himself, feeling much better than he did about the whole Sarah and Bryce thing. After all, nothing could compare to what Chuck had at that moment. Casey only hoped that he wouldn’t have to explain to Ellie why he was in her little brother’s bed and holding his hand before Chuck woke up.
Author's Comment Fifth one for 10_hurt_comfort. Drunk Chuck is so much fun to play with. I expect alcohol will become a good plot device for future fanfictions. Chuck is still in that middle-ish area about the whole Sarah and Bryce thing. Now if only he can explain what it is that he has at that moment aside from a NSA agent in his bed. /waggles eyebrows