Chuck - I'm Just a Soul Whose Intentions Are Good (Chuck/Bryce, PG-13)
For the picfor1000 Challenge
Chuck
Chuck/Bryce, PG-13
Spoilers for all episodes
I'm Just a Soul Whose Intentions Are Good
Once upon a time, in a kingdom called Stanford, in the fair country of California, there lived a young man named Bryce Larkin.
Bryce wasn't the prince or the king or even a minor duke, sixty-third in line to the throne of this fair municipality. Bryce wasn't anything besides an able-bodied young man who wished to serve his country. Yes, Bryce believed in things like truth, justice and the American Way, but mostly Bryce believed in playing Super Sekrit Spy in the library with his best friend Chuck Bartowski. Of course, Bryce sort of had a crush on Chuck. Not a bad kind of crush. Not the sort of crush that led to breaking into people's dorm rooms and cutting up all their too-small red shirts because they looked really good in red, and people couldn't stop staring, and dammit, didn't anybody see the big stamp on Chuck's forehead that said Property of Bryce Larkin?
Anyway.
This story isn't about that. This story is about the good kind of crush that Bryce had on his friend Chuck. This story is about all the nights that Bryce spent insisting that pledging a fraternity was the perfect way for Chuck to win the affections of Emily, who clearly wasn't worthy of Chuck anyway if she couldn't see how awesome he was. And when Chuck said 'yes' and 'duh' and 'of course', Bryce hugged him, and Chuck hugged him back.
Chuck almost squeezed the life out of Bryce -- or maybe Chuck squeezed the life back into Bryce. Maybe that's what happened instead.
That's what all the fairytales say happens when you fall in love with someone -- that instead of making informed decisions, you think stuff like pledging fraternities is a good idea. You convince your government handlers that this is the best cover they could ask for. Frat boys are immature, idiotic Neanderthals, who would expect any of that from Secret Agent Man?
Not that Bryce thought of himself as Secret Agent Man. That was Chuck's voice in his head. Still, the best kind of disguise was right out in public; wasn't that how it worked for Cinderella? Not that Bryce Larkin was Cinderella, or even Cinderfella.
So, Chuck pledged Gamma Delta Phi with Bryce; and they suffered through beer funnels and Bryce being paddled by Chuck in front of twenty-three of his brothers, all while thinking as many non-sex-related thoughts as humanly possible, which really wasn't easy considering who was doing the spanking.
Bryce had no idea who thought anything so overtly homosexual could be considered a straight male bonding experience, except the ancient Greeks. But the Greeks thought that anal sex was better than anything else anyway -- not that Bryce was inclined to disagree. Plus, Chuck was happy, and because Chuck was happy, Bryce was happy.
When Bryce went home to Connecticut for the summer (read: Quantico for government training with the Feebles, err, FBI), Chuck e-mailed him three times a week.
Bryce lived for Chuck's e-mails. Invariably they arrived between the hours of 0200 and 0600 Pacific Time, and invariably, Bryce would be awake. It didn’t matter where Bryce was or what he was doing: causing insurrection in Belgrade, unrest in Beijing or just buying arms in Dubai, he waited for Chuck's e-mails. Bryce lived for those e-mails.
He couldn't have pictures of his family in his disposable cell phone or carry Chuck's picture in his wallet, but he could memorize Chuck's e-mails, which were all variations on:
When are you coming back to civilization? You know they don't know how to play hackysack in New Canaan. Ellie will make you her super nachos if you come to L.A., and I promise Morgan won't try and jump you again. Really. He's gotten a lot better about his possessiveness. Only sixteen thousand million hours until I get to kick your ass at Halo again.
(I miss you).
Chuck never actually said he missed Bryce, but it was there. Bryce could smell it. He could feel it. It kept Bryce from drowning when he had to jump in the Thames at three o'clock on a Wednesday morning. It made sure he didn't pass out when he had to extract a bullet from his own thigh in Naples.
Most importantly, it was written all over Chuck's face when Bryce showed up on campus the day before classes began, tired, dirty and still sore from a stab wound four-fifths of an inch above his left kidney.
Chuck had missed him. Chuck had thought about him.
And even more importantly, Chuck had commandeered their favorite room in the fraternity house for them. The one that they'd had to repaint six times as pledges because the brothers didn't like the color scheme, even though they'd only ever painted it white white white.
The room was bright and airy, and there were shelves for Chuck's 'action figures' and Bryce's very important collection of rare comic books. There were blank walls for posters and pictures and whatever Bryce and Chuck wanted the rest of the world to see. The best part, though, was that it was their space. Chuck never even assumed that Bryce would want to live with anyone else, because Bryce didn't, and this was his happy ending.
This was their happy ending.
Except that Bryce forgot about the dragon that has to be slayed before anyone can live happily ever after. Bryce forgot about the thirty pieces of Chuck Bartowski's brain that had to be paid to the United States government in exchange for a real life.
So Bryce did what all heroes do -- he sacrificed. He locked Chuck away in an ivory tower called 'expulsion' to save him from everyone, and if the story didn't end the way fairy tales are supposed to, well, that's just life. Because life is no fairy tale, not even a really basic one with an errant knight, who gets the guy in the end and rides off into the sunset with a Playstation at his side.
-end-
Beta by serialkarma. Title from 'Don't Let me Be Misunderstood' sung by Nina Simone.
You know you are too involved when you go looking through icons to find out the proper name of the frat that Chuck and Bryce pledged. Just saying. Thanks for making those icons like_cheap_wine!
Chuck
Chuck/Bryce, PG-13
Spoilers for all episodes
I'm Just a Soul Whose Intentions Are Good
Once upon a time, in a kingdom called Stanford, in the fair country of California, there lived a young man named Bryce Larkin.
Bryce wasn't the prince or the king or even a minor duke, sixty-third in line to the throne of this fair municipality. Bryce wasn't anything besides an able-bodied young man who wished to serve his country. Yes, Bryce believed in things like truth, justice and the American Way, but mostly Bryce believed in playing Super Sekrit Spy in the library with his best friend Chuck Bartowski. Of course, Bryce sort of had a crush on Chuck. Not a bad kind of crush. Not the sort of crush that led to breaking into people's dorm rooms and cutting up all their too-small red shirts because they looked really good in red, and people couldn't stop staring, and dammit, didn't anybody see the big stamp on Chuck's forehead that said Property of Bryce Larkin?
Anyway.
This story isn't about that. This story is about the good kind of crush that Bryce had on his friend Chuck. This story is about all the nights that Bryce spent insisting that pledging a fraternity was the perfect way for Chuck to win the affections of Emily, who clearly wasn't worthy of Chuck anyway if she couldn't see how awesome he was. And when Chuck said 'yes' and 'duh' and 'of course', Bryce hugged him, and Chuck hugged him back.
Chuck almost squeezed the life out of Bryce -- or maybe Chuck squeezed the life back into Bryce. Maybe that's what happened instead.
That's what all the fairytales say happens when you fall in love with someone -- that instead of making informed decisions, you think stuff like pledging fraternities is a good idea. You convince your government handlers that this is the best cover they could ask for. Frat boys are immature, idiotic Neanderthals, who would expect any of that from Secret Agent Man?
Not that Bryce thought of himself as Secret Agent Man. That was Chuck's voice in his head. Still, the best kind of disguise was right out in public; wasn't that how it worked for Cinderella? Not that Bryce Larkin was Cinderella, or even Cinderfella.
So, Chuck pledged Gamma Delta Phi with Bryce; and they suffered through beer funnels and Bryce being paddled by Chuck in front of twenty-three of his brothers, all while thinking as many non-sex-related thoughts as humanly possible, which really wasn't easy considering who was doing the spanking.
Bryce had no idea who thought anything so overtly homosexual could be considered a straight male bonding experience, except the ancient Greeks. But the Greeks thought that anal sex was better than anything else anyway -- not that Bryce was inclined to disagree. Plus, Chuck was happy, and because Chuck was happy, Bryce was happy.
When Bryce went home to Connecticut for the summer (read: Quantico for government training with the Feebles, err, FBI), Chuck e-mailed him three times a week.
Bryce lived for Chuck's e-mails. Invariably they arrived between the hours of 0200 and 0600 Pacific Time, and invariably, Bryce would be awake. It didn’t matter where Bryce was or what he was doing: causing insurrection in Belgrade, unrest in Beijing or just buying arms in Dubai, he waited for Chuck's e-mails. Bryce lived for those e-mails.
He couldn't have pictures of his family in his disposable cell phone or carry Chuck's picture in his wallet, but he could memorize Chuck's e-mails, which were all variations on:
When are you coming back to civilization? You know they don't know how to play hackysack in New Canaan. Ellie will make you her super nachos if you come to L.A., and I promise Morgan won't try and jump you again. Really. He's gotten a lot better about his possessiveness. Only sixteen thousand million hours until I get to kick your ass at Halo again.
(I miss you).
Chuck never actually said he missed Bryce, but it was there. Bryce could smell it. He could feel it. It kept Bryce from drowning when he had to jump in the Thames at three o'clock on a Wednesday morning. It made sure he didn't pass out when he had to extract a bullet from his own thigh in Naples.
Most importantly, it was written all over Chuck's face when Bryce showed up on campus the day before classes began, tired, dirty and still sore from a stab wound four-fifths of an inch above his left kidney.
Chuck had missed him. Chuck had thought about him.
And even more importantly, Chuck had commandeered their favorite room in the fraternity house for them. The one that they'd had to repaint six times as pledges because the brothers didn't like the color scheme, even though they'd only ever painted it white white white.
The room was bright and airy, and there were shelves for Chuck's 'action figures' and Bryce's very important collection of rare comic books. There were blank walls for posters and pictures and whatever Bryce and Chuck wanted the rest of the world to see. The best part, though, was that it was their space. Chuck never even assumed that Bryce would want to live with anyone else, because Bryce didn't, and this was his happy ending.
This was their happy ending.
Except that Bryce forgot about the dragon that has to be slayed before anyone can live happily ever after. Bryce forgot about the thirty pieces of Chuck Bartowski's brain that had to be paid to the United States government in exchange for a real life.
So Bryce did what all heroes do -- he sacrificed. He locked Chuck away in an ivory tower called 'expulsion' to save him from everyone, and if the story didn't end the way fairy tales are supposed to, well, that's just life. Because life is no fairy tale, not even a really basic one with an errant knight, who gets the guy in the end and rides off into the sunset with a Playstation at his side.
-end-
Beta by serialkarma. Title from 'Don't Let me Be Misunderstood' sung by Nina Simone.
You know you are too involved when you go looking through icons to find out the proper name of the frat that Chuck and Bryce pledged. Just saying. Thanks for making those icons like_cheap_wine!