[ 10_hurt_comfort: chuck/casey ] [ Sick: Of Chicken Soup and Used Tissues ]
[ Fandom | Chuck ]
[ Characters | Chuck / Casey ]
[ Rating | PG-13 ]
[ Word Count | 1,184 ]
[ Masterlist | Here ]
[ Summary | Casey comes down with the common cold and Doctor Chuck helps him get better. ]
[ Disclaimer | If I were the owner of Chuck, there would have been more Casey and Chuck giving one another smouldering gazes. So nada, I just play in this sandbox. ]
When the common cold struck the members of the Buy More, the last person Chuck had expected to contract it was John Casey. The man was built like a tank and for the better part of a year Chuck had been convinced Casey’s internal organs was made of metal and biomaterials. That theory had been disproved by the whole Ilsa thing and the occasional stray bullet. But Chuck was certain with Casey's metabolism and fierce work out regime, the NSA agent could withstand just about anything. Hell, if some of the files in the Intersect were to be trusted, any mainstream poison or chemical used in modern day torture were a piece of cake. Something simple like the cold wouldn't stand a chance. And yet here Chuck was, standing over Casey's stove as he reheated chicken soup Ellie had made for their neighbour after hearing of his ailment. He hummed to himself as he stirred the contents in the pot, turning around as he heard slippered feet enter the kitchen.
"It's just a cold, Bartowski. I can use a microwave fine." The man gave a sniffle and plucked a tissue from the tissue box nestled rather snugly under his arm. Chuck raised an eyebrow at the strange nasally tone Casey's voice took and switched off the stove. He knew the NSA agent hated having someone care for him though had been strangely complied with Doctor Chuck's orders to stay in bed all day. General Beckman had given them a few days off from missions just so Casey could get better. She had reasoned that without Casey on top of his game, Chuck's chance of survival would be compromised. They had worked hard throughout the year and Chuck was rather glad for the short holiday. He had a small window of opportunity to gain some normalcy in his life and here he was playing domestic in Casey’s kitchen.
The older man blew into the tissue again and growled. It was a number 24 this time. Chuck noted with amusement about the 'why-the-hell-is-this-happening-to-me' growl, a familiar one that Casey seemed to use daily when talking to Chuck or anyone else from the Buy More. There was also a mix of the number 3, the 'I-wish-I-was-out-in-the-field', but Chuck couldn't entirely be sure since it wasn't exactly in the proper pitch.
"Microwaving just isn't the same with Ellie's chicken soup. I would know because I've done it many times before." Chuck puttered around Casey's kitchen as if he owned the place and pulled out a periwinkle blue polka dotted bowl and ladled out the pot's contents (he hadn't had the guts to ask where on earth the bowl had come from as self-preservation skills had finally kicked in). Casey's blue eyes followed his every movement in between blows into a fresh tissue and sniffled pitifully as Chuck made him sit down at the table. "Besides, I can tell you are enjoying me waiting hand and foot for you, big guy."
Casey took the offered spoon silently and set aside his quickly depleting tissue stash to curl a large hand around the warm bowl. His first spoonful of Ellie's home-made soup reminded Casey that he hadn't eaten all day and he was absolutely ravenous. He wouldn't admit it out loud, but it was nice having Chuck around and staying in bed asleep had helped his headache subside somewhat. On the care spectrum, Chuck caring for him was on a different end from the type of protecting he was paid to do and the nerd was certainly surprising him for braving the rather contagious conditions to do so.
There was something about watching Casey that Chuck enjoyed. Perhaps it was the graceful way Casey held his spoon that reminded Chuck of how strong the NSA agent's grip could be when threatening to crush a baddie's windpipe or how delicate it could be when caring for his bonsai. He propped his hip against Casey's kitchen counter as he poured himself a glass of mango nectar, continuing his silent appraisal of the man that was named John Casey. Casey had that 'deal with it' attitude when it came to just about anything that life threw at him - much different from Morgan's 'run away from it' ideals. Goodness knows Morgan would milk his sickness for what it's worth.
"What? You're comparing me and Grimes?"
Oops, he must have said that aloud to fill in the silence. Hastily, Chuck took a drink from his glass to bide for time and allowing his mind to catch up with his mouth. "Well, you know, Morgan is a brat when he's sick. Not that I'm saying you are of course, because you aren't." Casey continued spooning soup into his mouth and watching the train wreck about to happen, his emotions kept in check as usual. Chuck laughed, a little more strained than the normal Bartowski embarrassing chuckle. "But I haven't heard you complain once about having a cold. Actually I don't think I've ever heard you complain about anything except for when I don’t stay in the car and other things pertaining to me doing exactly the opposite of what you tell me to do."
Casey shrugged his shoulder, not quite perturbed by the fact that he had been put out of commission for a few days due to something as trivial as the cold. "It was bound to happen. I'm thinking of trying reverse psychology on our next mission. Maybe I should tell you to 'follow me and get shot at'. Heh." The panicked look on Chuck's face was worth it and Casey smirked as he finished off the last of his soup. He got up and moved to the sink, feeling mildly better now that he had had something to eat. Chuck hovered nearby and watched Casey clean with methodical motions of his sponge.
"Oh ha ha, very funny Casey. You forget that I do get shot at every time we do go on a mission, debunking the very need to actually use reverse psychology. Let me remind you of the time that I did stay in the car and got shot at regardless!" Casey set his bowl and spoon onto the dish drying rack, drying his hands on the kitchen towel he had hanging on the cupboard knob by the sink. The kid had a point there.
He shuffled to pick up his box of tissues and curled his robe closer around him. "Case in point, you should follow closer so I can do my job properly. If you prefer, Bartowski, I can act more like a brat but I don't think you can handle it," Casey smirked and then headed for his stairs, intent on getting some more sleep. The NSA agent knew Chuck would consider that a challenge and he didn't need to wait very long before Chuck would arrive in his bedroom doorway. His pillows needed fluffing and his bed needed a warm Chuck-shaped bolster that Casey could curl himself around all in the name of the healing process. Doctor Chuck wouldn't just leave his patient painfully alone would he?
Author's Comment Posting this one early since I won't have time to do it later tonight. Third one for 10_hurt_comfort. I find the idea of infallible Casey being sick hilarious and Doctor Chuck making sure his patient gets better. Since Casey is stubborn, Chuck decided to help Casey uh.. keep tabs on him better. Secretly they're just skirting around the issue.
[ Characters | Chuck / Casey ]
[ Rating | PG-13 ]
[ Word Count | 1,184 ]
[ Masterlist | Here ]
[ Summary | Casey comes down with the common cold and Doctor Chuck helps him get better. ]
[ Disclaimer | If I were the owner of Chuck, there would have been more Casey and Chuck giving one another smouldering gazes. So nada, I just play in this sandbox. ]
When the common cold struck the members of the Buy More, the last person Chuck had expected to contract it was John Casey. The man was built like a tank and for the better part of a year Chuck had been convinced Casey’s internal organs was made of metal and biomaterials. That theory had been disproved by the whole Ilsa thing and the occasional stray bullet. But Chuck was certain with Casey's metabolism and fierce work out regime, the NSA agent could withstand just about anything. Hell, if some of the files in the Intersect were to be trusted, any mainstream poison or chemical used in modern day torture were a piece of cake. Something simple like the cold wouldn't stand a chance. And yet here Chuck was, standing over Casey's stove as he reheated chicken soup Ellie had made for their neighbour after hearing of his ailment. He hummed to himself as he stirred the contents in the pot, turning around as he heard slippered feet enter the kitchen.
"It's just a cold, Bartowski. I can use a microwave fine." The man gave a sniffle and plucked a tissue from the tissue box nestled rather snugly under his arm. Chuck raised an eyebrow at the strange nasally tone Casey's voice took and switched off the stove. He knew the NSA agent hated having someone care for him though had been strangely complied with Doctor Chuck's orders to stay in bed all day. General Beckman had given them a few days off from missions just so Casey could get better. She had reasoned that without Casey on top of his game, Chuck's chance of survival would be compromised. They had worked hard throughout the year and Chuck was rather glad for the short holiday. He had a small window of opportunity to gain some normalcy in his life and here he was playing domestic in Casey’s kitchen.
The older man blew into the tissue again and growled. It was a number 24 this time. Chuck noted with amusement about the 'why-the-hell-is-this-happening-to-me' growl, a familiar one that Casey seemed to use daily when talking to Chuck or anyone else from the Buy More. There was also a mix of the number 3, the 'I-wish-I-was-out-in-the-field', but Chuck couldn't entirely be sure since it wasn't exactly in the proper pitch.
"Microwaving just isn't the same with Ellie's chicken soup. I would know because I've done it many times before." Chuck puttered around Casey's kitchen as if he owned the place and pulled out a periwinkle blue polka dotted bowl and ladled out the pot's contents (he hadn't had the guts to ask where on earth the bowl had come from as self-preservation skills had finally kicked in). Casey's blue eyes followed his every movement in between blows into a fresh tissue and sniffled pitifully as Chuck made him sit down at the table. "Besides, I can tell you are enjoying me waiting hand and foot for you, big guy."
Casey took the offered spoon silently and set aside his quickly depleting tissue stash to curl a large hand around the warm bowl. His first spoonful of Ellie's home-made soup reminded Casey that he hadn't eaten all day and he was absolutely ravenous. He wouldn't admit it out loud, but it was nice having Chuck around and staying in bed asleep had helped his headache subside somewhat. On the care spectrum, Chuck caring for him was on a different end from the type of protecting he was paid to do and the nerd was certainly surprising him for braving the rather contagious conditions to do so.
There was something about watching Casey that Chuck enjoyed. Perhaps it was the graceful way Casey held his spoon that reminded Chuck of how strong the NSA agent's grip could be when threatening to crush a baddie's windpipe or how delicate it could be when caring for his bonsai. He propped his hip against Casey's kitchen counter as he poured himself a glass of mango nectar, continuing his silent appraisal of the man that was named John Casey. Casey had that 'deal with it' attitude when it came to just about anything that life threw at him - much different from Morgan's 'run away from it' ideals. Goodness knows Morgan would milk his sickness for what it's worth.
"What? You're comparing me and Grimes?"
Oops, he must have said that aloud to fill in the silence. Hastily, Chuck took a drink from his glass to bide for time and allowing his mind to catch up with his mouth. "Well, you know, Morgan is a brat when he's sick. Not that I'm saying you are of course, because you aren't." Casey continued spooning soup into his mouth and watching the train wreck about to happen, his emotions kept in check as usual. Chuck laughed, a little more strained than the normal Bartowski embarrassing chuckle. "But I haven't heard you complain once about having a cold. Actually I don't think I've ever heard you complain about anything except for when I don’t stay in the car and other things pertaining to me doing exactly the opposite of what you tell me to do."
Casey shrugged his shoulder, not quite perturbed by the fact that he had been put out of commission for a few days due to something as trivial as the cold. "It was bound to happen. I'm thinking of trying reverse psychology on our next mission. Maybe I should tell you to 'follow me and get shot at'. Heh." The panicked look on Chuck's face was worth it and Casey smirked as he finished off the last of his soup. He got up and moved to the sink, feeling mildly better now that he had had something to eat. Chuck hovered nearby and watched Casey clean with methodical motions of his sponge.
"Oh ha ha, very funny Casey. You forget that I do get shot at every time we do go on a mission, debunking the very need to actually use reverse psychology. Let me remind you of the time that I did stay in the car and got shot at regardless!" Casey set his bowl and spoon onto the dish drying rack, drying his hands on the kitchen towel he had hanging on the cupboard knob by the sink. The kid had a point there.
He shuffled to pick up his box of tissues and curled his robe closer around him. "Case in point, you should follow closer so I can do my job properly. If you prefer, Bartowski, I can act more like a brat but I don't think you can handle it," Casey smirked and then headed for his stairs, intent on getting some more sleep. The NSA agent knew Chuck would consider that a challenge and he didn't need to wait very long before Chuck would arrive in his bedroom doorway. His pillows needed fluffing and his bed needed a warm Chuck-shaped bolster that Casey could curl himself around all in the name of the healing process. Doctor Chuck wouldn't just leave his patient painfully alone would he?
Author's Comment Posting this one early since I won't have time to do it later tonight. Third one for 10_hurt_comfort. I find the idea of infallible Casey being sick hilarious and Doctor Chuck making sure his patient gets better. Since Casey is stubborn, Chuck decided to help Casey uh.. keep tabs on him better. Secretly they're just skirting around the issue.