Fic [Chuck] Chuck vs. Artistic Integrity
Title: Chuck vs. Artistic Integrity
Author: themaskedmckay
Rating: Gen
Fandom: Chuck
Pairing: None
Words: 1,371
Disclaimer: Characters do not belong to me.
Summary: A day working in a Subway.
Spoilers: The end of Season Two.
Author's Notes: I know it's not going to happen for Season three but I laughed at the idea of Team Bartowski working at a Subway.
"See the nametag, Casey?" Chuck tapped his nametag and actually looked proud, "I am a 'Sandwich Artist'. That means we can talk about sandwiches all day and it's perfectly justified!"
"Know what else can be perfectly justified, Chuck?" Casey grabbed the front of Chuck's shirt and pulled him in close and personal so he could growl in his ear, "Homicide."
"Easy there, big guy!" They were getting along a lot better these days but sometimes Chuck liked to push Casey's buttons. They were right there, clear as the sky was blue, waiting for him to give them a nudge and watch Casey explode. "I was just pointing out that sandwich conversations could occur in your vicinity now that we work at a Subway. Perhaps you could even participate in a sandwich conversation."
During the two months Chuck had been away at spy basic training the Orange Orange had been shut down, renovated, and reopened as a Subway franchise. Free sandwiches for employees, a snazzy little uniform, they had an agent manager which meant they could be absent as much as they needed to be, and best of all Chuck got to work with Sarah and Casey! The downside was...
"Hey, Bartowski!" Chuck glanced away from Casey's angry face over the counter to where Jeff and Lester were waiting with exaggerated annoyance. "Stop sucking face with your boyfriend and make me a sandwich!"
"Yeah, sandwich bitch," Jeff added.
The Buy More guys were always taking their lunch breaks at the Subway and made sure they let Chuck know how far he had fallen. Knowing there was enough armaments within reach to storm a small castle was something Chuck tried to put out of his mind at times like these. He kicked Casey in the ankle, pre-emptively. "What can I get you, guys?"
Lester pretended to take his time looking at the menu. Chuck already knew he was going to order a vegetarian sub with all the fixings except pickles, which he called "German atrocities", on whole wheat, no cheese. Jeff would have his usual meatball on white.
Lester would order a foot-long but he only ever ate half; because men ordered foot-longs and women ordered six inch subs. Jeff would not only eat his foot long but the rest of Lester's, too. They were like the couple from the old nursery rhyme about Jack Sprat and his wife.
"I think I will have a veggie sub, foot-long, on wheat," Lester finally said.
"Meatball on white for me," Lester added.
"Okay, dokay," Chuck replied with a grin. It was easy to be nice when he knew this was just a cover job. If it had really been his job he'd be depressed.
Casey growled something indistinct under his breath and walked into the back room. It was probably for the best.
"Big man had to walk away?" Lester called after him.
Chuck winced, "Dude, don't go there. What sort of cheese do you guys want?"
"Geez, Chuck! I don't eat cheese, remember?"
"Right, sorry Lester." He knew that, of course. But, like Casey said, cultivating a persona that caused you to be underestimated could be beneficial; so he was practicing. Of course, Casey also said Chuck was a natural at being underestimated. Jerk. "Jeff?"
"I'll have the white kind," Jeff said, oblivious to the fact there were three white cheeses available. Chuck peeled three slices of mozzarella off the pile and laid them gently over the hot meatballs. If he started quizzing Jeff on what, specific, white cheese he wanted they'd be there far too long while Jeff tried to work it out.
"Toasted?"
"Sure," Lester said and Jeff nodded enthusiastically.
"Toasting makes the sandwich classy," Jeff said. Chuck and Lester stared at him.
"So, Chuck..." Lester began. "You and wiener girl still dating?"
"Hm? We were, but now we're sort of taking a break."
"Ah, she doesn't want to be seen with a lowly sandwich bitch, hm?" Lester puffed his chest out as best he could considering there wasn't much there to work with. "If you can't keep her in the manner to which she is accustomed, then maybe she's ready for a slice of Lester pie."
"Because Buy More pays so much better than Subway," Jeff said; his comment surprisingly along the lines of what Chuck had been thinking.
"I'll have you know I have more going on than just the Buy More."
"You said you weren't hooking anymore." Chuck just about dropped a sub at Jeff's statement. Lester? A prostitute?
"Shh! Why did I even tell you about that, anyways?"
"We were at Bennigen's, you had too much to drink, and that client of yours walked in..."
"Oh my God! Shut up, Jeff!" Lester looked around furtively to see who all had heard. They were alone in the shop except for Chuck. "Heh heh heh," Lester laughed nervously. "Jeff's crazy. He doesn't know what he's saying. You heard nothing," he said, pointing a finger at Chuck.
"Did you say something?" Chuck said calmly. "I have a hard time hearing you over the sound of the condiments sitting in their trays."
Lester and Jeff stared at him until it became uncomfortable. "Yes, good," Lester finally said. "Nothing was said and I don't want-"
"Pickles?" Chuck placed both of their wrapped subs on the counter. He hadn't asked them what veggies or sauces they wanted, but he really didn't have to. They were creatures of habit.
"Right. No pickles." Lester slapped a twenty down on the counter, "Keep the change."
"Buying my silence?" Chuck teased.
"Oh, Chuck. Chuck, Chuck, Chucky Chuck." Lester tried to look sly, "This is just a bit of charity. A tip. From me, to you."
"And you keep your mouth shut," Jeff said as he drew a thumb across his neck.
"Riiiiight," Chuck drawled. "I'll do that. Keep quiet. Because I don't want something bad to happen to me."
"I'm glad we have come to an understanding," Lester said. "We'll see you, later." Jeff ran his thumb over his throat again in a threatening manner and Lester slapped his hand down, "He gets the idea, Jeff!"
"Have a nice day!" Chuck called out to them as they left the shop. He silently counted to three before Casey came out of the back room.
"One of these days," he growled, "I'm going to drag those two out back and-"
"Make sure they're happy with their sandwiches?" Chuck asked. Casey glowered at him but only snorted in reply. Of course Casey was too professional to do anything to threaten his cover or their mission; no matter how personally satisfying it might be. "Mmm, sandwiches."
A low growl started deep in Casey's chest. Chuck ignored the warning. "You know, if I were trapped on a space station and they'd mistakenly stocked only one type of sandwich..."
"Finish that sentence and I'll drag you out back, Chuck."
"And make sure I'm happy with my sandwiches? C'mon Casey, you seriously have no opinion about sandwiches?" Chuck nudged Casey with his elbow. "Seriously?"
Casey released a long-suffering sigh. "Fine. Corned beef on rye."
"Condiments?"
Casey rubbed his face with his hands, "Fine. FINE! Corned beef on rye, sauerkraut, Swiss cheese, mustard, and butter." Chuck smiled.
"There! Was that so hard?"
"Yes, yes it was."
"Now, my sandwich of choice, being as there would be refrigeration on board a space station, would have to be a mayo-based, meat salad."
Casey groaned as if he were in pain, "Are we really going to do this?"
Chuck tapped his name badge, "Sandwich artist, remember?"
"You're killing me, Chuck."
"I'm thinking it has to be chicken. Seafood salad is only good if you eat it right away and I wouldn't want to eat old tuna fish."
"Laugh it up, Chuck. Tomorrow morning, you and I are going to go for a run. And I'm going to make you cry like a little girl."
"Yeah, chicken salad on multigrain. With sprouts."
"You're going to beg me for mercy."
"Obviously I can't have mayo on it, because it's a mayo-based salad...."
"Chuck."
Chuck smiled, "Yup, it would have to be butter. We have that barrier between the bread and the salad so it doesn't get soggy."
Casey stayed quiet.
Chuck let the conversation subside. The sandwich artist had triumphed.
Author: themaskedmckay
Rating: Gen
Fandom: Chuck
Pairing: None
Words: 1,371
Disclaimer: Characters do not belong to me.
Summary: A day working in a Subway.
Spoilers: The end of Season Two.
Author's Notes: I know it's not going to happen for Season three but I laughed at the idea of Team Bartowski working at a Subway.
"See the nametag, Casey?" Chuck tapped his nametag and actually looked proud, "I am a 'Sandwich Artist'. That means we can talk about sandwiches all day and it's perfectly justified!"
"Know what else can be perfectly justified, Chuck?" Casey grabbed the front of Chuck's shirt and pulled him in close and personal so he could growl in his ear, "Homicide."
"Easy there, big guy!" They were getting along a lot better these days but sometimes Chuck liked to push Casey's buttons. They were right there, clear as the sky was blue, waiting for him to give them a nudge and watch Casey explode. "I was just pointing out that sandwich conversations could occur in your vicinity now that we work at a Subway. Perhaps you could even participate in a sandwich conversation."
During the two months Chuck had been away at spy basic training the Orange Orange had been shut down, renovated, and reopened as a Subway franchise. Free sandwiches for employees, a snazzy little uniform, they had an agent manager which meant they could be absent as much as they needed to be, and best of all Chuck got to work with Sarah and Casey! The downside was...
"Hey, Bartowski!" Chuck glanced away from Casey's angry face over the counter to where Jeff and Lester were waiting with exaggerated annoyance. "Stop sucking face with your boyfriend and make me a sandwich!"
"Yeah, sandwich bitch," Jeff added.
The Buy More guys were always taking their lunch breaks at the Subway and made sure they let Chuck know how far he had fallen. Knowing there was enough armaments within reach to storm a small castle was something Chuck tried to put out of his mind at times like these. He kicked Casey in the ankle, pre-emptively. "What can I get you, guys?"
Lester pretended to take his time looking at the menu. Chuck already knew he was going to order a vegetarian sub with all the fixings except pickles, which he called "German atrocities", on whole wheat, no cheese. Jeff would have his usual meatball on white.
Lester would order a foot-long but he only ever ate half; because men ordered foot-longs and women ordered six inch subs. Jeff would not only eat his foot long but the rest of Lester's, too. They were like the couple from the old nursery rhyme about Jack Sprat and his wife.
"I think I will have a veggie sub, foot-long, on wheat," Lester finally said.
"Meatball on white for me," Lester added.
"Okay, dokay," Chuck replied with a grin. It was easy to be nice when he knew this was just a cover job. If it had really been his job he'd be depressed.
Casey growled something indistinct under his breath and walked into the back room. It was probably for the best.
"Big man had to walk away?" Lester called after him.
Chuck winced, "Dude, don't go there. What sort of cheese do you guys want?"
"Geez, Chuck! I don't eat cheese, remember?"
"Right, sorry Lester." He knew that, of course. But, like Casey said, cultivating a persona that caused you to be underestimated could be beneficial; so he was practicing. Of course, Casey also said Chuck was a natural at being underestimated. Jerk. "Jeff?"
"I'll have the white kind," Jeff said, oblivious to the fact there were three white cheeses available. Chuck peeled three slices of mozzarella off the pile and laid them gently over the hot meatballs. If he started quizzing Jeff on what, specific, white cheese he wanted they'd be there far too long while Jeff tried to work it out.
"Toasted?"
"Sure," Lester said and Jeff nodded enthusiastically.
"Toasting makes the sandwich classy," Jeff said. Chuck and Lester stared at him.
"So, Chuck..." Lester began. "You and wiener girl still dating?"
"Hm? We were, but now we're sort of taking a break."
"Ah, she doesn't want to be seen with a lowly sandwich bitch, hm?" Lester puffed his chest out as best he could considering there wasn't much there to work with. "If you can't keep her in the manner to which she is accustomed, then maybe she's ready for a slice of Lester pie."
"Because Buy More pays so much better than Subway," Jeff said; his comment surprisingly along the lines of what Chuck had been thinking.
"I'll have you know I have more going on than just the Buy More."
"You said you weren't hooking anymore." Chuck just about dropped a sub at Jeff's statement. Lester? A prostitute?
"Shh! Why did I even tell you about that, anyways?"
"We were at Bennigen's, you had too much to drink, and that client of yours walked in..."
"Oh my God! Shut up, Jeff!" Lester looked around furtively to see who all had heard. They were alone in the shop except for Chuck. "Heh heh heh," Lester laughed nervously. "Jeff's crazy. He doesn't know what he's saying. You heard nothing," he said, pointing a finger at Chuck.
"Did you say something?" Chuck said calmly. "I have a hard time hearing you over the sound of the condiments sitting in their trays."
Lester and Jeff stared at him until it became uncomfortable. "Yes, good," Lester finally said. "Nothing was said and I don't want-"
"Pickles?" Chuck placed both of their wrapped subs on the counter. He hadn't asked them what veggies or sauces they wanted, but he really didn't have to. They were creatures of habit.
"Right. No pickles." Lester slapped a twenty down on the counter, "Keep the change."
"Buying my silence?" Chuck teased.
"Oh, Chuck. Chuck, Chuck, Chucky Chuck." Lester tried to look sly, "This is just a bit of charity. A tip. From me, to you."
"And you keep your mouth shut," Jeff said as he drew a thumb across his neck.
"Riiiiight," Chuck drawled. "I'll do that. Keep quiet. Because I don't want something bad to happen to me."
"I'm glad we have come to an understanding," Lester said. "We'll see you, later." Jeff ran his thumb over his throat again in a threatening manner and Lester slapped his hand down, "He gets the idea, Jeff!"
"Have a nice day!" Chuck called out to them as they left the shop. He silently counted to three before Casey came out of the back room.
"One of these days," he growled, "I'm going to drag those two out back and-"
"Make sure they're happy with their sandwiches?" Chuck asked. Casey glowered at him but only snorted in reply. Of course Casey was too professional to do anything to threaten his cover or their mission; no matter how personally satisfying it might be. "Mmm, sandwiches."
A low growl started deep in Casey's chest. Chuck ignored the warning. "You know, if I were trapped on a space station and they'd mistakenly stocked only one type of sandwich..."
"Finish that sentence and I'll drag you out back, Chuck."
"And make sure I'm happy with my sandwiches? C'mon Casey, you seriously have no opinion about sandwiches?" Chuck nudged Casey with his elbow. "Seriously?"
Casey released a long-suffering sigh. "Fine. Corned beef on rye."
"Condiments?"
Casey rubbed his face with his hands, "Fine. FINE! Corned beef on rye, sauerkraut, Swiss cheese, mustard, and butter." Chuck smiled.
"There! Was that so hard?"
"Yes, yes it was."
"Now, my sandwich of choice, being as there would be refrigeration on board a space station, would have to be a mayo-based, meat salad."
Casey groaned as if he were in pain, "Are we really going to do this?"
Chuck tapped his name badge, "Sandwich artist, remember?"
"You're killing me, Chuck."
"I'm thinking it has to be chicken. Seafood salad is only good if you eat it right away and I wouldn't want to eat old tuna fish."
"Laugh it up, Chuck. Tomorrow morning, you and I are going to go for a run. And I'm going to make you cry like a little girl."
"Yeah, chicken salad on multigrain. With sprouts."
"You're going to beg me for mercy."
"Obviously I can't have mayo on it, because it's a mayo-based salad...."
"Chuck."
Chuck smiled, "Yup, it would have to be butter. We have that barrier between the bread and the salad so it doesn't get soggy."
Casey stayed quiet.
Chuck let the conversation subside. The sandwich artist had triumphed.