InsaneJournal

Fic
Title: Secrets
Author: garglingargoyle
Fandom: Chuck
Pairing: John Casey/Bryce Larkin
Rating: Light R-like.
Word Count: 792
Prompt: John Casey/Bryce Larkin: distrust - shooting him was a good idea, but this might be a better one
A/N: Because the source material is mostly unavailable and we don’t know that much back story yet, I had a lot of trouble working out how/where/when this would happen. I finally gave up (*fails*), and this is largely “So, two operatives walk into an undisclosed location.” Timeline is sometime after Stanford but before the events of the show.
A/N 2: For Kinkfest.




Bryce Larkin’s biggest secret in college wasn’t that he had been recruited into the CIA. And after college, it wasn’t that he’d betrayed Chuck. Bryce Larkin’s biggest secret was that during debriefings, when he was supposed to be concentrating on taking in as much information as he could about the big bad guy of the week, what he was usually doing was imagining the big bad guy of the week putting him up against a wall and having his way with him.

It wasn’t liking cock that bothered Bryce—he’d put to rest any problems he’d had with that years ago—it was knowing that he had this weakness, wondering if or when or how it would ultimately be exploited. It never occurred to him that the one who would identify it, would expose it, would be on his side—sort of.

John Casey was an arrogant, annoying son of a bitch. And Bryce couldn’t stop looking at him.

They were sitting in a van, watching the back door of an apartment building. Orders had been clear: Report any activity. Do not engage. The only activity so far had been Casey scanning radio stations, never letting the dial rest on one for more than a minute, and Bryce shifting in his seat whenever he realized he had looked over at the NSA agent again.

Casey caught him looking at him and mostly hid a smirk. “Eyes front, newbie.”

“I was recruited over two years ago, actually.”

“I know when you were recruited, Larkin. Just sit still, would you? You’re making me crazy.”

“I would have thought you didn’t need any help on that count.”

Casey grunted. And then they sat in silence for another five hours before they were finally called in.
*

Bryce had stripped down to his boxers and t-shirt and was digging through a box of teas wondering if chamomile actually helped you sleep when someone began pounding on his door. He padded to the door with a tea packet in one hand, looking at the label. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d been so wired.

“Who is it?”

“Just open the damn door, Larkin.”

Bryce did, then leaned against it. “What are you doing here?”

Casey eyed the tea packet. “Always, always, open the door with gun in hand if you don’t know who it is. And even when you do.” Casey shoved past him into the apartment. He glanced around him as he shrugged out of his jacket. “Do you ever clean this place? Looks like a frat house in here.”

“I’ve been busy.”

Casey ducked into the kitchen, sniffed, grunted, then headed down the hall.

“Casey?”

“What?”

Bryce raised his eyebrows at him. “You? Here. Why?”

“This doesn’t leave this apartment, Larkin. You got that?”

Bryce swallowed. “Of course. Some new intel just come in?”

“You could say that.” Casey stepped closer to Bryce, leaned in. Bryce took a step back.

“You’re twitchy, Larkin.” Casey narrowed his eyes. “I don’t trust twitchy. Especially on assignment. At first I thought you were rogue, bad at it too. Then I realized. You’re afraid of who’ll figure out what you want. Should be. Could be dangerous. I thought about shooting you. But this might be less messy in the end.” Casey gave Bryce a little shove, just enough to put him off balance, then used Bryce’s momentum to put him against the wall.

Bryce winced when he hit, more from shock than pain. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Don’t you?” Casey pinned Bryce’s arms to the wall above his head. “This is what you were thinking about all night in that van. Isn’t it?” He ran his tongue over Bryce’s lips and pressed a leg between Bryce’s briefly, insistently. “Isn’t it?”

“Maybe.”

Casey’s smirk was back. He didn’t try to hide it this time. “Maybe.”

Bryce pulled experimentally against Casey’s grip. He wasn’t going anywhere. He liked it more than he’d anticipated. “I didn’t think you were that way inclined.”

“I’m inclined any way that’s going to keep me and my operatives safe.”

Bryce nodded. “Right.”

“I’m not offering any more than a fuck here. You cool with that?”

“I don’t know. I think so. I mean, I don’t think I like you. No offense.”

“Good. We do this two, three times a week. And then, no more twitching.”

Bryce tried to say okay. What came out was more like a cross between a whimper and a groan. If what Casey was doing with his fingers was part of standard NSA training, it was time to switch teams. “Good. You’re good,” Bryce said.

“Quiet, Larkin. I’m not here to make conversation.”

“Yes, sir.” Bryce let the packet slip from his fingers. This was definitely going to be better than tea.