Fic: Breaking Deep Cover | Chuck/SR | Chuck/Shaw!Clark | PG-13 | 1/1
Title: Breaking Deep Cover
Fandom: Chuck/Superman Returns
Pairing: Chuck/Shaw!Clark (sort-of)
Rating: PG-13
Word Count: 1,206
Prompt: For Porn Battle IX: deep undercover, mission, identity, kryptonite, hero, family, Intergang
Summary: Trapped in a closet during a mission, Chuck takes the opportunity to let Shaw know that he knows.
Disclaimer: DC, WB, and NBC own it all. I own nothing. Darnit!
Author's Notes: Ignores the majority of Chuck canon after roughly the plane episode. Warning for woobie, broken Clark. It isn't pretty. Originally posted HERE. Really late re-post, but hey, I'm getting back in ficcish mode, so I count it as a win. :D
Breaking Deep Cover
They've been trapped in the tiny, reinforced closet somewhere in the compound for close to an hour when Chuck finally blinks over at Shaw, eyes picking out his features in the dim light, and says in a low voice, “I know who you are.”
There's a heavy sigh of resignation from the other man, and Chuck can just see him look away, his profile catching the light from beneath the door. “How long?” he asks, and it's the voice of certainty, no point trying to obfuscate when the keeper of the Intersect is the one doing the interrogation.
“Since you told me to shoot you.”
“Of course,” Shaw says, huffing out a bitter laugh. “I suppose I knew you'd be the one to identify me. General Beckman doubted it, but I knew.”
Chuck shifts in the cramped space, his knee knocking against Shaw's as they sit as comfortably as they can, side by side. “So... I assume I should just keep calling you Agent Shaw.”
A small, genuine smile moves over the other man's face for just a moment as he nods back. “Definitely. It's better than what I'm known by, and a lot better than using my private names.”
And Chuck knows too well what he means by 'private names', thanks to his dangerously info-loaded file. He wishes he didn't, but the two names and histories that came with the flash are such opposite ends of the spectrum that Chuck can't help but wonder which is the real man. Clark Kent or Kal-El?
Instead of asking, and potentially ruining their cover should anyone be listening in, he settles for, “Noted,” and plows ahead with, “You're under-undercover, then. Pretty cool.”
“Yeah,” and there's that tone of resigned wistfulness again. “After things went bad in my... other life, I decided to dedicate myself to my work. You know my file, you know about Intergang. This is where that led.”
Chuck's wheels spin for a moment as he catches up. “Wait,” he says after a painful moment. “You mean, the Ring?”
“One in the same. My former partner and I took down the homegrown branch, but it turned out the international branches are a bit more organized. Deep cover was the only option.”
“Holy crap,” Chuck breathes, still working it all out as he mentally compares what he knows about the supposedly unrelated organizations.
Shaw laughs again, low and bitter. “I've been in for three years. Didn't have anything better to go home to since my partner decided she didn't want me to have anything to do with the son I didn't even know I had.”
And it suddenly all makes sense. “That's why you disappeared again after that lunatic, Luthor, tried to grow an island out of K. Jesus, Shaw, that's-”
“Pretty drastic?”
“No, really sad. And the ring you've been keeping with you since you got it back?”
A long, tense silence stretches out between them, and Chuck is just about to give up hope that Shaw will respond to his idiotic probing, when the other man-the freaking hero-says, “It was supposed to be hers. I'd thought, if I asked her to marry me, the last five years would go away, and we could live happily ever after. But things didn't quite work out that way. She didn't want her son to have an absent hero for a father. She had her life, and I wasn't part of that anymore.”
Chuck can't really help the sudden impulse to grab Shaw's hand where it's resting atop his knee and just squeeze, his heart totally breaking for him. For the man who was once thought to be invulnerable to be so... so broken is just unthinkable. It's completely absurd. And it totally answers the question as to who the man really is; no exotic alien would carry such naïve notions of domesticity that far through life and let himself get crushed like that.
Shaw's hand turns beneath his, and their fingers interlace, both of them gripping tightly. The heat of that hand is surprisingly welcome, and Chuck leans sideways a little to wrap his free arm around the other man's shoulders, feeling Shaw shiver just a tiny bit, as if from trying his damnedest not to let his grief get the better of him.
“I am so freakin' sorry, man,” Chuck says quietly, squeezing his shoulders. And though he knows just who the 'partner' is that crushed him beneath her pointed heel, he says, “Whoever she is, she was an idiot to do that. Scared, probably, but an idiot all the same.”
Shaw's-Clark's-broad frame actually shakes with his choked-off laugh at that, and he drops his head onto Chuck's shoulder. “She genuinely believed I would take him away from her. And I'd thought she knew me.”
“It's okay,” Chuck whispers, knowing it's probably only a matter of time before the hero completely crumbles, three years of burying so much grief tearing him to pieces from the inside out. His body moving on autopilot, he turns just barely and kisses the top of Clark's head, lays his cheek on his hair and blows a breath out through his nostrils. He wants to say something else, anything to soothe this broken man, but at this point, everything sounds so lame in his head that he decides at last to just let them sit in silence.
Naturally, the silence only lasts long enough for Chuck to really feel the heat pouring off of Clark, and his mouth opens of its own accord to say, “You must have one hell of a metabolism to be this warm.”
Instantly, he feels like a complete douche, letting his inner fanboy out like that, but to his surprise, the statement actually gets a real, honest laugh out of Clark, and the hero-turned-spy sits up a little bit to look at him in the near-darkness, Chuck laughing along with him at his own poor timing.
“I used to be warmer. Been partially de-powered since coming in on the mission,” he explains, one corner of his mouth still tugging upward.
“Wh-seriously? How?”
“Special technology.”
And again, the wheels are spinning faster than Chuck can keep up. “So, that's how you were able to shoot yourself?”
Clark winces just a bit at that, but says, “Not entirely. I used a special gun, with special bullets. It was the only way.”
Chuck's eyebrows shoot up almost to his hairline. “You mean, you put K into a gun to make it more authentic? That is twisted, dude.”
A shrug. “It got the job done, didn't it?”
“Point. But... okay, what about your eyes and your curl?”
“Contacts and a haircut. Next.”
“Why are we still stuck in this closet if you're only partially de-powered!?”
Clark chuckles at that one. “Because it would be a dead giveaway, and the rest of our team is well on its way.”
And at that, the shock of a ringing gunshot taking out the lock jolts Chuck out of his awed gape, and the door is yanked open, letting them fall sideways out of the closet.
Staring down at them, Casey sneers. “Well, don't just lay there, you idiots, let's go!”
Chuck gets to his feet first and pulls Agent Shaw up with a snort of laughter, and as soon as Casey turns away to lead them out of the compound, Clark gives his hand a firm squeeze in return. “Thanks, Chuck.”
“Any time, man. Any time.”
~*~*~*~
Fandom: Chuck/Superman Returns
Pairing: Chuck/Shaw!Clark (sort-of)
Rating: PG-13
Word Count: 1,206
Prompt: For Porn Battle IX: deep undercover, mission, identity, kryptonite, hero, family, Intergang
Summary: Trapped in a closet during a mission, Chuck takes the opportunity to let Shaw know that he knows.
Disclaimer: DC, WB, and NBC own it all. I own nothing. Darnit!
Author's Notes: Ignores the majority of Chuck canon after roughly the plane episode. Warning for woobie, broken Clark. It isn't pretty. Originally posted HERE. Really late re-post, but hey, I'm getting back in ficcish mode, so I count it as a win. :D
Breaking Deep Cover
They've been trapped in the tiny, reinforced closet somewhere in the compound for close to an hour when Chuck finally blinks over at Shaw, eyes picking out his features in the dim light, and says in a low voice, “I know who you are.”
There's a heavy sigh of resignation from the other man, and Chuck can just see him look away, his profile catching the light from beneath the door. “How long?” he asks, and it's the voice of certainty, no point trying to obfuscate when the keeper of the Intersect is the one doing the interrogation.
“Since you told me to shoot you.”
“Of course,” Shaw says, huffing out a bitter laugh. “I suppose I knew you'd be the one to identify me. General Beckman doubted it, but I knew.”
Chuck shifts in the cramped space, his knee knocking against Shaw's as they sit as comfortably as they can, side by side. “So... I assume I should just keep calling you Agent Shaw.”
A small, genuine smile moves over the other man's face for just a moment as he nods back. “Definitely. It's better than what I'm known by, and a lot better than using my private names.”
And Chuck knows too well what he means by 'private names', thanks to his dangerously info-loaded file. He wishes he didn't, but the two names and histories that came with the flash are such opposite ends of the spectrum that Chuck can't help but wonder which is the real man. Clark Kent or Kal-El?
Instead of asking, and potentially ruining their cover should anyone be listening in, he settles for, “Noted,” and plows ahead with, “You're under-undercover, then. Pretty cool.”
“Yeah,” and there's that tone of resigned wistfulness again. “After things went bad in my... other life, I decided to dedicate myself to my work. You know my file, you know about Intergang. This is where that led.”
Chuck's wheels spin for a moment as he catches up. “Wait,” he says after a painful moment. “You mean, the Ring?”
“One in the same. My former partner and I took down the homegrown branch, but it turned out the international branches are a bit more organized. Deep cover was the only option.”
“Holy crap,” Chuck breathes, still working it all out as he mentally compares what he knows about the supposedly unrelated organizations.
Shaw laughs again, low and bitter. “I've been in for three years. Didn't have anything better to go home to since my partner decided she didn't want me to have anything to do with the son I didn't even know I had.”
And it suddenly all makes sense. “That's why you disappeared again after that lunatic, Luthor, tried to grow an island out of K. Jesus, Shaw, that's-”
“Pretty drastic?”
“No, really sad. And the ring you've been keeping with you since you got it back?”
A long, tense silence stretches out between them, and Chuck is just about to give up hope that Shaw will respond to his idiotic probing, when the other man-the freaking hero-says, “It was supposed to be hers. I'd thought, if I asked her to marry me, the last five years would go away, and we could live happily ever after. But things didn't quite work out that way. She didn't want her son to have an absent hero for a father. She had her life, and I wasn't part of that anymore.”
Chuck can't really help the sudden impulse to grab Shaw's hand where it's resting atop his knee and just squeeze, his heart totally breaking for him. For the man who was once thought to be invulnerable to be so... so broken is just unthinkable. It's completely absurd. And it totally answers the question as to who the man really is; no exotic alien would carry such naïve notions of domesticity that far through life and let himself get crushed like that.
Shaw's hand turns beneath his, and their fingers interlace, both of them gripping tightly. The heat of that hand is surprisingly welcome, and Chuck leans sideways a little to wrap his free arm around the other man's shoulders, feeling Shaw shiver just a tiny bit, as if from trying his damnedest not to let his grief get the better of him.
“I am so freakin' sorry, man,” Chuck says quietly, squeezing his shoulders. And though he knows just who the 'partner' is that crushed him beneath her pointed heel, he says, “Whoever she is, she was an idiot to do that. Scared, probably, but an idiot all the same.”
Shaw's-Clark's-broad frame actually shakes with his choked-off laugh at that, and he drops his head onto Chuck's shoulder. “She genuinely believed I would take him away from her. And I'd thought she knew me.”
“It's okay,” Chuck whispers, knowing it's probably only a matter of time before the hero completely crumbles, three years of burying so much grief tearing him to pieces from the inside out. His body moving on autopilot, he turns just barely and kisses the top of Clark's head, lays his cheek on his hair and blows a breath out through his nostrils. He wants to say something else, anything to soothe this broken man, but at this point, everything sounds so lame in his head that he decides at last to just let them sit in silence.
Naturally, the silence only lasts long enough for Chuck to really feel the heat pouring off of Clark, and his mouth opens of its own accord to say, “You must have one hell of a metabolism to be this warm.”
Instantly, he feels like a complete douche, letting his inner fanboy out like that, but to his surprise, the statement actually gets a real, honest laugh out of Clark, and the hero-turned-spy sits up a little bit to look at him in the near-darkness, Chuck laughing along with him at his own poor timing.
“I used to be warmer. Been partially de-powered since coming in on the mission,” he explains, one corner of his mouth still tugging upward.
“Wh-seriously? How?”
“Special technology.”
And again, the wheels are spinning faster than Chuck can keep up. “So, that's how you were able to shoot yourself?”
Clark winces just a bit at that, but says, “Not entirely. I used a special gun, with special bullets. It was the only way.”
Chuck's eyebrows shoot up almost to his hairline. “You mean, you put K into a gun to make it more authentic? That is twisted, dude.”
A shrug. “It got the job done, didn't it?”
“Point. But... okay, what about your eyes and your curl?”
“Contacts and a haircut. Next.”
“Why are we still stuck in this closet if you're only partially de-powered!?”
Clark chuckles at that one. “Because it would be a dead giveaway, and the rest of our team is well on its way.”
And at that, the shock of a ringing gunshot taking out the lock jolts Chuck out of his awed gape, and the door is yanked open, letting them fall sideways out of the closet.
Staring down at them, Casey sneers. “Well, don't just lay there, you idiots, let's go!”
Chuck gets to his feet first and pulls Agent Shaw up with a snort of laughter, and as soon as Casey turns away to lead them out of the compound, Clark gives his hand a firm squeeze in return. “Thanks, Chuck.”
“Any time, man. Any time.”
~*~*~*~