Chuck Ficlets (Prompt Ficlets, First Batch)
A Day On A Farm
for usakeh, also in honor of her graduation (go, you!): Casey, while delirious with malaria-induced fever, says something romantic to Chuck. Casey/Chuck, teen, no spoilers. ~ 150 words.
“Bartowski.” The hand gripped his wrist like a vice. Casey coughed dryly. “Dying.”
Chuck tried to turn around to him in the close confines of the tent. “You aren’t going to die, Casey,” he whispered. He wished he knew that for a fact.
“Wanted to tell you...” Casey tried to open his eyes; he was looking painfully sick, face bathed in sweat while chills were wrecking through his body. “That day on the farm...”
“Casey, we’ve never been to a farm...”
“Your hair... soft like the... fur... of a European mink...”
“Yeah, you’re definitely delirious.”
“...fell in love with you right then.”
Chuck froze.
Casey had quite the penchant for confessing his secrets while hallucinating, he thought in a daze.
He placed a hand on the spy’s shoulder to calm him down with touch.
“You aren’t going to die,” he repeated, firmer than before.
Casey wasn’t going to die. He so wasn’t allowed to. Not after this one.
He owed Chuck a day on a farm.
Two Clues
for usakeh, who wanted Chuck and Casey to get at it in a Buy Morian supply closet after Chuck prevents Casey from killing a customer out of anger. Drabble, adult.
Chuck got two clues that told him his old life was lost. The first was John fucking his brains out in a supply closet. Chuck was panting against the wall, held upright by the vice-grip on his hips.
“Big Mike... better never get a clue we did this,” he managed.
John’s smirk tickled his neck. “Then don’t drag me in here to ‘chill.’”
“Then stop looking attractive when you get mad.”
He’d never have done this when his job still meant something to him. He’d never have done it with Sarah.
There was the second clue - he didn’t care.
First Rule Of Close Protection
again for usakeh, who wanted to see Casey’s reaction after he killed Chuck at the end of S1. Casey (and Chuck... in parts :p), teen, spoilers for 3x08 (Chuck vs. The Fake Name). ~ 200 words.
There was a strange roar in his ears.
Alex lowered the gun slowly, elbow still up steadily the way they taught in training. The tension left his body limb by limb, systematically - stand upright, relax your shoulders, and have a good look. Chuck Bartowski was dead, bleeding out on the floor, stretched out awkwardly. Ellie would have to replace some of the kitchen tiles.
The kitchen that had been Bartowski’s lair, the asset’s home and therefore Alex’ home for a year was transforming into a crime scene just like that - he could almost feel it happening.
First rule of close protection - guard the asset like a hawk. First rule of assassination - get the hell out as soon as you can.
Bartowski looked ridiculously young now, even more so than when he’d been alive.
He had to resist the urge to sit down on one of the kitchen chairs, not allowing his limbs to start feeling heavy. In a minute, he’d be sneaking away, gone before anybody could learn he existed, think to check what the neighbor had seen - gone into the night.
The puddle of blood had almost reached his boots.
He didn’t move.
Thanks again for the prompts. Hope you like. :-)
for usakeh, also in honor of her graduation (go, you!): Casey, while delirious with malaria-induced fever, says something romantic to Chuck. Casey/Chuck, teen, no spoilers. ~ 150 words.
“Bartowski.” The hand gripped his wrist like a vice. Casey coughed dryly. “Dying.”
Chuck tried to turn around to him in the close confines of the tent. “You aren’t going to die, Casey,” he whispered. He wished he knew that for a fact.
“Wanted to tell you...” Casey tried to open his eyes; he was looking painfully sick, face bathed in sweat while chills were wrecking through his body. “That day on the farm...”
“Casey, we’ve never been to a farm...”
“Your hair... soft like the... fur... of a European mink...”
“Yeah, you’re definitely delirious.”
“...fell in love with you right then.”
Chuck froze.
Casey had quite the penchant for confessing his secrets while hallucinating, he thought in a daze.
He placed a hand on the spy’s shoulder to calm him down with touch.
“You aren’t going to die,” he repeated, firmer than before.
Casey wasn’t going to die. He so wasn’t allowed to. Not after this one.
He owed Chuck a day on a farm.
Two Clues
for usakeh, who wanted Chuck and Casey to get at it in a Buy Morian supply closet after Chuck prevents Casey from killing a customer out of anger. Drabble, adult.
Chuck got two clues that told him his old life was lost. The first was John fucking his brains out in a supply closet. Chuck was panting against the wall, held upright by the vice-grip on his hips.
“Big Mike... better never get a clue we did this,” he managed.
John’s smirk tickled his neck. “Then don’t drag me in here to ‘chill.’”
“Then stop looking attractive when you get mad.”
He’d never have done this when his job still meant something to him. He’d never have done it with Sarah.
There was the second clue - he didn’t care.
First Rule Of Close Protection
again for usakeh, who wanted to see Casey’s reaction after he killed Chuck at the end of S1. Casey (and Chuck... in parts :p), teen, spoilers for 3x08 (Chuck vs. The Fake Name). ~ 200 words.
There was a strange roar in his ears.
Alex lowered the gun slowly, elbow still up steadily the way they taught in training. The tension left his body limb by limb, systematically - stand upright, relax your shoulders, and have a good look. Chuck Bartowski was dead, bleeding out on the floor, stretched out awkwardly. Ellie would have to replace some of the kitchen tiles.
The kitchen that had been Bartowski’s lair, the asset’s home and therefore Alex’ home for a year was transforming into a crime scene just like that - he could almost feel it happening.
First rule of close protection - guard the asset like a hawk. First rule of assassination - get the hell out as soon as you can.
Bartowski looked ridiculously young now, even more so than when he’d been alive.
He had to resist the urge to sit down on one of the kitchen chairs, not allowing his limbs to start feeling heavy. In a minute, he’d be sneaking away, gone before anybody could learn he existed, think to check what the neighbor had seen - gone into the night.
The puddle of blood had almost reached his boots.
He didn’t move.
Thanks again for the prompts. Hope you like. :-)