What Happens In Castle... - Multi-Crossover, PG, Gen/Het
Title: What Happens In Castle... Stays In Castle
Author: nevcolleil
Fandom(s): Angel/Chuck/Dollhouse/Firefly :D (Yes, really.)
Characters: Wes Pryce, Morgan Grimes, Topher Brink, River Tam
Pairing: Morgan/River
Rating: PG
Summary: written for this meme for chlare who said: "There really needs to be a show with Topher from Dollhouse, Wes, River, and possibly Chuck and Morgan... The geek squad extraordinaire. Maybe they try to take over the world, maybe they just work for people trying to do the taking - and then they manage to thwart them every time without getting caught. "
Saturday begins as just a typical day in Castle.
Topher runs his weekly gamut of security checks and has River sweep the compound for bugs. His heightened paranoia as of late isn’t entirely unwarranted. They run a highly secretive operation here, one which often requires the execution of many illegal tasks. Doing so out of a “borrowed” installation, formerly occupied by the CIA, seems at times a weighty risk. But so far as the CIA is aware, Castle was dismantled as soon as Operation Bartowski relocated to Rome. Chuck checks in with them regularly and would say so if there were suspicions of someone squatting on his old stomping grounds circulating through the Agency.
Also, how could they pass up on this? Comfortable lodgings for them all. Security even the government had been lucky to come by. Technology that had made Topher’s mouth water the moment he’d laid eyes on Castle’s mainframe. Labyrinthine corridors for River to traipse about, discovering the hidden mysteries still lurking beyond - all here, underground, beneath a modest shopping center in Burbank, California, where no one is likely to come looking for any of them.
Well. Almost no one.
“Wes? Hey, Wes! Helloooo…” Morgan Grimes’ bearded face has appeared before the security camera hidden in a cash register outside of one of Castle’s entrances. The wiener deli cum fro-yo shop that served as a front for the CIA when Chuck and his team were stationed here was bought by “international investors” shortly after Castle was “dismantled”. It is now a comic/antique book store and their front for the time being.
Their not-open-on-Saturdays-or-Sundays front, which seems to bother Morgan not a bit.
“Mr. Pryce! Pardon, ole bean, but could you be a good chap and open the door for a dear friend?” Morgan continues, in a combination of mangled Italian the worst fake British accent that Wes has ever heard. “Wes! Come on, man, let me in!”
Wesley sighs. He is sitting in Castle’s man debriefing room, a hot kettle of tea and his favorite cup sitting on the conference table beside him. Tranquil music wafts from Castle’s speakers and a newly acquired tome of ancient Enochian lore sits open in his lap. Wesley sets aside the lore, sets aside his tea; he turns off the music.
As I said: a typical day in Castle.
Wesley hits a button on the keypad built into the center of the conference table and says, “A moment, Morgan.” He watches Morgan’s grin on the main monitor mounted to the debriefing room wall. Morgan flashes two thumbs up at him and looks around, as if his being in a closed shop in the middle of the day at all is much less conspicuous behavior than flashing random hand gestures at nothing. Wesley’s lips quirk. He initiates the sequence to open Castle’s doors long enough for Morgan to get in and goes to meet his team’s latest… addition.
Morgan works at the Buy More electronics store across a parking lot from the book store. He’d planned on accompanying Chuck, his friend since childhood, and Chuck’s team to Rome before certain events had lost him his taste for the spy life and a certain someone had given him reason to want to remain in California.
At first glance, Morgan hardly looks the type to accompany a team of spies to a foreign country to battle terrorism and espionage. At second glance he doesn’t look it either. He certainly doesn’t look the type to aid and abet a vigilante team of corporate and military saboteurs. He’s short - little over five feet tall; he’s not particularly athletic. He has a comical face and an unfailingly cheerful demeanor. He all but vibrates with energy - perpetually - but what he lacks in calm, finesse, and fearsomeness he makes up for in dedication, passion, and intuition.
Also, he makes up for a lot with pastries. Not the dry, chewy kind that sit under a heating lamp on some counter for hours on end before being reluctantly consumed. Fresh, delicious pastries - homemade.
If not for his quirkiness, Wes believes River would love Morgan for his cooking alone. Wesley often thinks he does.
“I come bearing breakfast, o’ fearless leader,” Morgan sing-songs as he jogs down the stairs and into Castle proper. Spectacular aromas precede him and the large basket in his arms. Wesley doesn’t miss his tea or his reading time so much as a result.
“Thank you, Morgan. You didn’t have to cook for us on your day off.” Morgan works a “shift” at Castle each day after he gets off at the Buy More. He helps sift through security footage, brainstorm prospective job opportunities, and monitor news feeds.
“Oh, but I wanted to,” Morgan says with a smile. “A happy tummy makes a healthy man, and a healthy man is better fit to take care of my girl-”
No sooner than Morgan’s words leave his mouth does a River-shaped torpedo leap into view and attach itself to Morgan’s back. Short as he is, Morgan hardly stumbles beneath River’s slender weight as she loops her arms around his neck and he drops his basket to hook his hands under her knees. Wesley acts fast to rescue breakfast from an untimely fall, snatching the basket before it can hit the ground and setting it on a nearby workstation.
“Morgan!” River cries happily, all flying, dark hair and bright white teeth. She plants a loud kiss on the side of Morgan’s face. “Sleep isn’t pleasant without my Teddy Bear to make the dark warm and soft. I tossed and tossed on my pillow.”
Morgan blushes bright red. He tosses embarrassed glances at Wesley, who is torn between playing the tactful bystander averting his eyes and the stern employer discouraging antics. He settles on trying not to laugh while crossing his arms and looking as though he might he stern. If not for the pastries.
“I, uh- I missed you, too, baby doll,” Morgan says between kisses as he gently disentangles himself from River’s reed-like limbs. She moves fluidly, transferring herself from crouching upon Morgan’s back to standing before him, supported more by the lean of her body against his than her own feet. “But, um, how about we discuss that somewhere we won’t irritate Wesley into shooting at me again?”
He’s still embarrassed, and at first his words concern Wesley, but there is no anxiety in Morgan’s eyes which meet Wesley’s easily. There is only teasing and good humor. Wesley smiles despite himself and relaxes. “Once that happened,” Wesley says. “And you say that I’m the one who holds grudges,” he says in River’s direction.
River smiles at him but steps back enough that her embrace of Morgan is less limpet-like. “Wesley won’t shoot at you again when you bring him breakfast, Morgan,” she says. “Will you, Wes?”
“I’m thinking it over. River, what have we said about jumping onto people as they come into Castle?”
“To not do it unless they are armed with a weapon with which they mean us harm,” she recites from memory. She had ought to remember - she’s assaulted thirty-two visitors to Castle so far, and thirteen of them were John Casey. John Casey doesn’t get tackled by a hundred-pound girl in a sundress thirteen times and let Wesley forget it. If Wes has to be reminded of the Colonel’s many indignities at River’s hand - said reminder usually being accompanied by grossly unfair accommodations in the Colonel’s favor at competitive events - then River can be reminded as well. “Sorry, Bossman,” River says and takes Morgan by the hand.
“Bye, Wes!” Morgan calls out over his shoulder as he is whisked down a corridor, River chattering about hibernation and lunar cycles and muffins along the way.
Wesley shakes his head fondly. He takes River’s silence on the subject and the lack of a frantic Topher in his main room to mean that the morning’s security sweeps did not reveal a present threat. All the same, he fishes a banana cranberry muffin out of Morgan’s basket, along with an assortment of scones, and goes to find his computer genius.
The young man often forgets to eat and he likes to be warned when Morgan is in Castle, so that he knows to be wary of reviewing the day’s internal security feeds.
Wesley can’t blame him. River has never been mindful of Castle’s cameras.
[ end. ]
A/N: I didn't get around to including Win... or any actual world-dominating/world-domination-thwarting :p But I had so much fun setting a little bit of the stage for all that :) Hope you like this little bit, chlare!
Anyone else who'd like to throw a wild multi-fandom crossover at me: please go to the meme and have at it!
Author: nevcolleil
Fandom(s): Angel/Chuck/Dollhouse/Firefly :D (Yes, really.)
Characters: Wes Pryce, Morgan Grimes, Topher Brink, River Tam
Pairing: Morgan/River
Rating: PG
Summary: written for this meme for chlare who said: "There really needs to be a show with Topher from Dollhouse, Wes, River, and possibly Chuck and Morgan... The geek squad extraordinaire. Maybe they try to take over the world, maybe they just work for people trying to do the taking - and then they manage to thwart them every time without getting caught. "
Saturday begins as just a typical day in Castle.
Topher runs his weekly gamut of security checks and has River sweep the compound for bugs. His heightened paranoia as of late isn’t entirely unwarranted. They run a highly secretive operation here, one which often requires the execution of many illegal tasks. Doing so out of a “borrowed” installation, formerly occupied by the CIA, seems at times a weighty risk. But so far as the CIA is aware, Castle was dismantled as soon as Operation Bartowski relocated to Rome. Chuck checks in with them regularly and would say so if there were suspicions of someone squatting on his old stomping grounds circulating through the Agency.
Also, how could they pass up on this? Comfortable lodgings for them all. Security even the government had been lucky to come by. Technology that had made Topher’s mouth water the moment he’d laid eyes on Castle’s mainframe. Labyrinthine corridors for River to traipse about, discovering the hidden mysteries still lurking beyond - all here, underground, beneath a modest shopping center in Burbank, California, where no one is likely to come looking for any of them.
Well. Almost no one.
“Wes? Hey, Wes! Helloooo…” Morgan Grimes’ bearded face has appeared before the security camera hidden in a cash register outside of one of Castle’s entrances. The wiener deli cum fro-yo shop that served as a front for the CIA when Chuck and his team were stationed here was bought by “international investors” shortly after Castle was “dismantled”. It is now a comic/antique book store and their front for the time being.
Their not-open-on-Saturdays-or-Sundays front, which seems to bother Morgan not a bit.
“Mr. Pryce! Pardon, ole bean, but could you be a good chap and open the door for a dear friend?” Morgan continues, in a combination of mangled Italian the worst fake British accent that Wes has ever heard. “Wes! Come on, man, let me in!”
Wesley sighs. He is sitting in Castle’s man debriefing room, a hot kettle of tea and his favorite cup sitting on the conference table beside him. Tranquil music wafts from Castle’s speakers and a newly acquired tome of ancient Enochian lore sits open in his lap. Wesley sets aside the lore, sets aside his tea; he turns off the music.
As I said: a typical day in Castle.
Wesley hits a button on the keypad built into the center of the conference table and says, “A moment, Morgan.” He watches Morgan’s grin on the main monitor mounted to the debriefing room wall. Morgan flashes two thumbs up at him and looks around, as if his being in a closed shop in the middle of the day at all is much less conspicuous behavior than flashing random hand gestures at nothing. Wesley’s lips quirk. He initiates the sequence to open Castle’s doors long enough for Morgan to get in and goes to meet his team’s latest… addition.
Morgan works at the Buy More electronics store across a parking lot from the book store. He’d planned on accompanying Chuck, his friend since childhood, and Chuck’s team to Rome before certain events had lost him his taste for the spy life and a certain someone had given him reason to want to remain in California.
At first glance, Morgan hardly looks the type to accompany a team of spies to a foreign country to battle terrorism and espionage. At second glance he doesn’t look it either. He certainly doesn’t look the type to aid and abet a vigilante team of corporate and military saboteurs. He’s short - little over five feet tall; he’s not particularly athletic. He has a comical face and an unfailingly cheerful demeanor. He all but vibrates with energy - perpetually - but what he lacks in calm, finesse, and fearsomeness he makes up for in dedication, passion, and intuition.
Also, he makes up for a lot with pastries. Not the dry, chewy kind that sit under a heating lamp on some counter for hours on end before being reluctantly consumed. Fresh, delicious pastries - homemade.
If not for his quirkiness, Wes believes River would love Morgan for his cooking alone. Wesley often thinks he does.
“I come bearing breakfast, o’ fearless leader,” Morgan sing-songs as he jogs down the stairs and into Castle proper. Spectacular aromas precede him and the large basket in his arms. Wesley doesn’t miss his tea or his reading time so much as a result.
“Thank you, Morgan. You didn’t have to cook for us on your day off.” Morgan works a “shift” at Castle each day after he gets off at the Buy More. He helps sift through security footage, brainstorm prospective job opportunities, and monitor news feeds.
“Oh, but I wanted to,” Morgan says with a smile. “A happy tummy makes a healthy man, and a healthy man is better fit to take care of my girl-”
No sooner than Morgan’s words leave his mouth does a River-shaped torpedo leap into view and attach itself to Morgan’s back. Short as he is, Morgan hardly stumbles beneath River’s slender weight as she loops her arms around his neck and he drops his basket to hook his hands under her knees. Wesley acts fast to rescue breakfast from an untimely fall, snatching the basket before it can hit the ground and setting it on a nearby workstation.
“Morgan!” River cries happily, all flying, dark hair and bright white teeth. She plants a loud kiss on the side of Morgan’s face. “Sleep isn’t pleasant without my Teddy Bear to make the dark warm and soft. I tossed and tossed on my pillow.”
Morgan blushes bright red. He tosses embarrassed glances at Wesley, who is torn between playing the tactful bystander averting his eyes and the stern employer discouraging antics. He settles on trying not to laugh while crossing his arms and looking as though he might he stern. If not for the pastries.
“I, uh- I missed you, too, baby doll,” Morgan says between kisses as he gently disentangles himself from River’s reed-like limbs. She moves fluidly, transferring herself from crouching upon Morgan’s back to standing before him, supported more by the lean of her body against his than her own feet. “But, um, how about we discuss that somewhere we won’t irritate Wesley into shooting at me again?”
He’s still embarrassed, and at first his words concern Wesley, but there is no anxiety in Morgan’s eyes which meet Wesley’s easily. There is only teasing and good humor. Wesley smiles despite himself and relaxes. “Once that happened,” Wesley says. “And you say that I’m the one who holds grudges,” he says in River’s direction.
River smiles at him but steps back enough that her embrace of Morgan is less limpet-like. “Wesley won’t shoot at you again when you bring him breakfast, Morgan,” she says. “Will you, Wes?”
“I’m thinking it over. River, what have we said about jumping onto people as they come into Castle?”
“To not do it unless they are armed with a weapon with which they mean us harm,” she recites from memory. She had ought to remember - she’s assaulted thirty-two visitors to Castle so far, and thirteen of them were John Casey. John Casey doesn’t get tackled by a hundred-pound girl in a sundress thirteen times and let Wesley forget it. If Wes has to be reminded of the Colonel’s many indignities at River’s hand - said reminder usually being accompanied by grossly unfair accommodations in the Colonel’s favor at competitive events - then River can be reminded as well. “Sorry, Bossman,” River says and takes Morgan by the hand.
“Bye, Wes!” Morgan calls out over his shoulder as he is whisked down a corridor, River chattering about hibernation and lunar cycles and muffins along the way.
Wesley shakes his head fondly. He takes River’s silence on the subject and the lack of a frantic Topher in his main room to mean that the morning’s security sweeps did not reveal a present threat. All the same, he fishes a banana cranberry muffin out of Morgan’s basket, along with an assortment of scones, and goes to find his computer genius.
The young man often forgets to eat and he likes to be warned when Morgan is in Castle, so that he knows to be wary of reviewing the day’s internal security feeds.
Wesley can’t blame him. River has never been mindful of Castle’s cameras.
[ end. ]
A/N: I didn't get around to including Win... or any actual world-dominating/world-domination-thwarting :p But I had so much fun setting a little bit of the stage for all that :) Hope you like this little bit, chlare!
Anyone else who'd like to throw a wild multi-fandom crossover at me: please go to the meme and have at it!