Fic: Bleed For Me - Chuck/Bryce, PG13
Title: Bleed For Me
Fandom: Chuck
Pairing: Chuck/Bryce
Rating: PG-13
Summary: Stanford era. Chuck takes a punch for Bryce in a bar. Cue the carnage and other complicated things.
Author's Note: For this prompt at comment_fic.
AO3
It happens so fast, he doesn’t really have time to think about it. They’re making their way out of the bar, and Chuck is walking in front (the philosophy being that Chuck, as the taller of the two of them, will have better luck parting the rowdy crowd). Chuck bumps into somebody - a girl in a tiny, glittery dress - and before he can stutter out a full apology, her boyfriend is up in his face, saying things that Chuck can’t make out over the din of the crowd.
Emphatic things, obviously, judging from the expression on the angry drunk’s face, and insulting, judging by the confrontational things Bryce says back.
“Bryce, man, don’t worry about it. Let’s just-“ Chuck is saying when Angry Drunk’s fist starts to fly.
Chuck sees it headed for Bryce’s face and moves on instinct. Directly into Angry Drunk’s path. The blow that would have caught Bryce right in the eye catches Chuck in the mouth. And it probably looks really impressive to their onlookers - the way Chuck’s head snaps back with the punch. How it takes him to the floor.
Dazed, Chuck only sees a blur of color and then Bryce’s startled face gazing down at him as Chuck gazes up.
Bryce looks about as surprised by Chuck’s gallant interception as Chuck feels, and then Bryce sees the blood on Chuck’s mouth as Chuck prods his split lip carefully with the tip of his tongue.
Bryce goes - Chuck truly doesn’t know how else to say this - apeshit. His entire face changes. It’s like watching Bruce Banner become the Incredible Hulk, except that the Incredible Hulk was green instead of a little bit red and instead of getting all vein-y and monstruous, Bryce remains just really sexy.
(Possibly, Chuck should chalk that last observation up to his recent head trauma.)
In any case, Bryce begins whaling on Angry Drunk. And even two of Angry Drunk’s friends, who see no problem with ganging up on Bryce until they realize that he’s obviously psychotic.
Or, you know. Just really protective of Chuck.
“Bryce! Bryce! Man, you’ve got to stop! Let him go!”
“Yeah, dude, listen to your boyfriend before I call the fucking c-“
Bryce does stop. But only just then, after getting one more shot in on No-Longer-Drunk-and-Seriously-Regretting-It. He lets Chuck pull him out of the bar and into the nearest cab as quickly as Chuck’s chucks-clad feet can carry him.
“Are you kidding? That was-” Chuck doesn’t know what to call it. Frightening? Awesome, terrible… Extremely hot? (Okay, so maybe Chuck makes inappropriate observations related to his roommate even when he hasn’t just suffered a head trauma.) “What was that? Bryce…”
“That was an asshole getting his butt kicked, Chuck,” Bryce says. looking just as revved up as he had fighting said asshole as he starts to talk about it. “I can’t believe he made you fucking bleed. Chuck, what were you thinking, stepping in front of a punch like that?”
Chuck would be offended by that… Maybe even a little hurt by the obvious implications of Bryce freaking out over Chuck’s split lip while ignoring his own injuries. Bryce’s knuckles are busted open and he’s got a cut above his right eye that needs at least a butterfly bandage.
Only, Bryce just took on three guys more or less to defend Chuck’s honor (Chuck still doesn’t know what Angry Drunk said to him, but the ‘boyfriend’ comment gives him an idea) and Bryce is holding Chuck’s face still as he leans in close to inspect Chuck’s lip. Bryce brushes the broken skin gently with the pad of his thumb and Chuck shudders, but not in pain. If there wasn’t a cab driver in plain view of the back seat, Chuck would-
Still not do anything, probably, but he wants to. He wants to, and he channels that frustration into his words as he says, “Uh, maybe I was thinking that I didn’t want to see your face get punched on?” ‘Maybe that face is too pretty to stand by and allow to take punches?’ Chuck thinks.
“You don’t bleed for me, you understand, Chuck?” Bryce says, with far more heat probably than warranted for a bar brawl. “You don’t ever let yourself get hurt for me.”
‘Too late,’ Chuck catches himself thinking, morosely. He hurts a little more every day that he sees Bryce and can’t tell Bryce how he really feels. But Chuck’ll be damned if he’ll end one of the most important friendships of his life just because his secret longings can’t be requited. Especially not with how much this friendship seems to matter to Bryce too.
“Are you listening to me?” Bryce’s voice is unaccountably thick.
“Yeah. Yeah, I’m listening, Bryce.” Chuck just isn’t altogether sure what he’s hearing. “We, uh. We should probably get some ice on that.” Chuck gestures to the cut above Bryce’s eye. And he goes to touch it - he isn’t sure why. Just an urge, after the way Bryce touched him.
But Bryce catches his hand as soon as he’s brushed Bryce’s hair back from his face, away from Bryce’s wound. Bryce doesn’t say anything… Doesn’t shove Chuck’s hand away or ask him what he’s doing. He just holds on. He just looks into Chuck’s eyes and Chuck’s heart pounds. He’s almost certain that-
The cab stops. And the cabbie’s cough pulls Chuck back to his senses. He tugs his hand away from Bryce’s and hunts in his pockets for cab fare without looking at anybody, pushing bills indiscriminately into the cabbie’s outstretched hand and scurrying out of the car while the cabbie grunts a “Thanks” and Bryce follows after.
“Chuck…”
Chuck’s half-afraid of what will happen if he meets Bryce’s gaze again, but he does because he’s half-anxious too. Whatever was or was not about to happen in the cab, though, the mood’s been broken. Bryce just looks at Chuck curiously for a moment and then says, “Thanks. You know. For not wanting to see my face get punched on.” Bryce quirks up one corner of his lips.
Chuck blushes without even knowing what for and says, “Any time.”
What he should have said was: ‘You don’t let yourself get hurt for me either.’ But he’ll only think of that years later.
Tomorrow he’ll get called into the Dean’s office and his whole world will crumble.
Fandom: Chuck
Pairing: Chuck/Bryce
Rating: PG-13
Summary: Stanford era. Chuck takes a punch for Bryce in a bar. Cue the carnage and other complicated things.
Author's Note: For this prompt at comment_fic.
AO3
It happens so fast, he doesn’t really have time to think about it. They’re making their way out of the bar, and Chuck is walking in front (the philosophy being that Chuck, as the taller of the two of them, will have better luck parting the rowdy crowd). Chuck bumps into somebody - a girl in a tiny, glittery dress - and before he can stutter out a full apology, her boyfriend is up in his face, saying things that Chuck can’t make out over the din of the crowd.
Emphatic things, obviously, judging from the expression on the angry drunk’s face, and insulting, judging by the confrontational things Bryce says back.
“Bryce, man, don’t worry about it. Let’s just-“ Chuck is saying when Angry Drunk’s fist starts to fly.
Chuck sees it headed for Bryce’s face and moves on instinct. Directly into Angry Drunk’s path. The blow that would have caught Bryce right in the eye catches Chuck in the mouth. And it probably looks really impressive to their onlookers - the way Chuck’s head snaps back with the punch. How it takes him to the floor.
Dazed, Chuck only sees a blur of color and then Bryce’s startled face gazing down at him as Chuck gazes up.
Bryce looks about as surprised by Chuck’s gallant interception as Chuck feels, and then Bryce sees the blood on Chuck’s mouth as Chuck prods his split lip carefully with the tip of his tongue.
Bryce goes - Chuck truly doesn’t know how else to say this - apeshit. His entire face changes. It’s like watching Bruce Banner become the Incredible Hulk, except that the Incredible Hulk was green instead of a little bit red and instead of getting all vein-y and monstruous, Bryce remains just really sexy.
(Possibly, Chuck should chalk that last observation up to his recent head trauma.)
In any case, Bryce begins whaling on Angry Drunk. And even two of Angry Drunk’s friends, who see no problem with ganging up on Bryce until they realize that he’s obviously psychotic.
Or, you know. Just really protective of Chuck.
“Bryce! Bryce! Man, you’ve got to stop! Let him go!”
“Yeah, dude, listen to your boyfriend before I call the fucking c-“
Bryce does stop. But only just then, after getting one more shot in on No-Longer-Drunk-and-Seriously-Regretting-It. He lets Chuck pull him out of the bar and into the nearest cab as quickly as Chuck’s chucks-clad feet can carry him.
“Are you kidding? That was-” Chuck doesn’t know what to call it. Frightening? Awesome, terrible… Extremely hot? (Okay, so maybe Chuck makes inappropriate observations related to his roommate even when he hasn’t just suffered a head trauma.) “What was that? Bryce…”
“That was an asshole getting his butt kicked, Chuck,” Bryce says. looking just as revved up as he had fighting said asshole as he starts to talk about it. “I can’t believe he made you fucking bleed. Chuck, what were you thinking, stepping in front of a punch like that?”
Chuck would be offended by that… Maybe even a little hurt by the obvious implications of Bryce freaking out over Chuck’s split lip while ignoring his own injuries. Bryce’s knuckles are busted open and he’s got a cut above his right eye that needs at least a butterfly bandage.
Only, Bryce just took on three guys more or less to defend Chuck’s honor (Chuck still doesn’t know what Angry Drunk said to him, but the ‘boyfriend’ comment gives him an idea) and Bryce is holding Chuck’s face still as he leans in close to inspect Chuck’s lip. Bryce brushes the broken skin gently with the pad of his thumb and Chuck shudders, but not in pain. If there wasn’t a cab driver in plain view of the back seat, Chuck would-
Still not do anything, probably, but he wants to. He wants to, and he channels that frustration into his words as he says, “Uh, maybe I was thinking that I didn’t want to see your face get punched on?” ‘Maybe that face is too pretty to stand by and allow to take punches?’ Chuck thinks.
“You don’t bleed for me, you understand, Chuck?” Bryce says, with far more heat probably than warranted for a bar brawl. “You don’t ever let yourself get hurt for me.”
‘Too late,’ Chuck catches himself thinking, morosely. He hurts a little more every day that he sees Bryce and can’t tell Bryce how he really feels. But Chuck’ll be damned if he’ll end one of the most important friendships of his life just because his secret longings can’t be requited. Especially not with how much this friendship seems to matter to Bryce too.
“Are you listening to me?” Bryce’s voice is unaccountably thick.
“Yeah. Yeah, I’m listening, Bryce.” Chuck just isn’t altogether sure what he’s hearing. “We, uh. We should probably get some ice on that.” Chuck gestures to the cut above Bryce’s eye. And he goes to touch it - he isn’t sure why. Just an urge, after the way Bryce touched him.
But Bryce catches his hand as soon as he’s brushed Bryce’s hair back from his face, away from Bryce’s wound. Bryce doesn’t say anything… Doesn’t shove Chuck’s hand away or ask him what he’s doing. He just holds on. He just looks into Chuck’s eyes and Chuck’s heart pounds. He’s almost certain that-
The cab stops. And the cabbie’s cough pulls Chuck back to his senses. He tugs his hand away from Bryce’s and hunts in his pockets for cab fare without looking at anybody, pushing bills indiscriminately into the cabbie’s outstretched hand and scurrying out of the car while the cabbie grunts a “Thanks” and Bryce follows after.
“Chuck…”
Chuck’s half-afraid of what will happen if he meets Bryce’s gaze again, but he does because he’s half-anxious too. Whatever was or was not about to happen in the cab, though, the mood’s been broken. Bryce just looks at Chuck curiously for a moment and then says, “Thanks. You know. For not wanting to see my face get punched on.” Bryce quirks up one corner of his lips.
Chuck blushes without even knowing what for and says, “Any time.”
What he should have said was: ‘You don’t let yourself get hurt for me either.’ But he’ll only think of that years later.
Tomorrow he’ll get called into the Dean’s office and his whole world will crumble.