Entry tags:
Chuck's Super Secret Spy Mix
Title: Chuck's Super Secret Spy Mix
Fandom: Chuck
Rating: all
Word Count: 760
Summary: Chuck made a mix for the afternoon, to make it special.
Author's Notes/Disclaimer: Written to go with a mix I made for![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
creativescape for a Joyous Yule exchange.
“I just want you to know, Bartowski, I think you’re an idiot.”
“I know, Casey, you tell me frequently,” Chuck said, pushing his shirt sleeves up and slid his sunglasses on. “Let’s just do this.”
Casey glared.
Chuck took the sunglasses off again and set them on the table. “Ooooo-kay.” He pressed play on the cd player.
Casey grimaced. “What the hell is this?”
“...The theme from Law & Order.”
“I know that. Why are we listening to it?”
Chuck smiled sheepishly. “I made a mix. Spy music, you know. Real jazzy stuff. It’ll get us in the mood to do spy stuff.”
Casey stared at him for a second with an expression that basically said ‘I will be amazed if your own ineptitude allows you to come out of this alive’.
“It’s really not hard, Bartowski,” Casey said, finally turning away and breaking the cynical look. “You point it at the bad guy and pull the trigger. Don’t point it at something you don’t want to kill and don’t put your finger on the trigger until you’re sure you want to fire it. That’s all you need to know.”
He eyed the gun in Casey’s hand. “I don’t know...”
“What’s not to know, I just told you everything.”
It was hard to believe that was all there was to it. Life – even secret agent spy life – shouldn’t be as easy as a game of Duke Nukem.
“It’s not a surface to air missile that you’re going to use to blow pterodactyls out of the sky, Chuck, it’s a revolver which you will hopefully never have to even use.”
Chuck thought for a second about how dinosaurs even came into the picture.
“Is this... Is this Mission Impossible?” Casey was shaking his head.
“...No? Yes.”
Casey didn’t say anything else, he just handed the gun to Chuck, grip first. Chuck took it reluctantly.
“It’s loaded already,” Casey said, pushing Chuck forward by his shoulder and pointing him towards the paper target. “Lift your arm, point towards the target and use the rear sight to line it up.”
Chuck did.
“Don’t pull your shoulder so far up,” Casey warned, “or you’ll strain yourself.”
Chuck lowered his shoulder. Then he set the gun on the table again. “I can’t.” He crossed his arms in front of him. “I’m sorry.”
Casey tilted his head and listened to the music for a moment. He recognized this song. “Is that what James Bond does when he finds out that 006 is the bad guy after all? Did he set his gun down and quit?”
“He had the exploding pen. I don’t have one of those. Are you suggesting we ask General Beckmann for an exploding pen?”
Casey shuddered at the thought. “Master the gun first and then we’ll think about explosives.”
Chuck picked the revolver up again. “Okay, so I can see the target.”
“Pull back on the hammer...” Casey waited until he heard it click. “Keep your eye on the target and pull the trigger.”
He did.
“I did it!” Chuck put the gun on the table and spun around to face Casey. “Casey I did it, I fired a gun!”
Casey hopped over the table and walked to the end of the hall and took down the paper target. “Nice, Chuck, you actually hit it.” Chuck followed after him and peered over his shoulder.
“Where?”
“Here.” Casey showed him the hole in the upper left corner of the paper.
“I didn’t hit the guy,” Chuck said, face falling.
“But you hit the paper, didn’t you? On your first try even. That’s impressive, Chuck.”
“Chuck? Casey? Are you listening to music down here?” Sarah peeked around the corner. “Were you shooting things in here?”
Casey shrugged. “Teaching Bartowski how to fire a gun. You know, just in case.”
“Casey! No target practice in the castle! And no guns for Chuck!” The way she cocked her hips and frowned menacingly was rather convincing. “Get out of here, Chuck and get home, it’s past nine o’clock. Wait... Why are we listening to the Pink Panther song?”
Chuck choked back a laugh. “Just something I whipped up. But you’re right, I’m heading home. Um. Thanks, Casey. And remember you said you’d think about that pen.”
“I did think about it and I say not a chance in hell.”
“Good night guys!” Chuck called over his shoulder, heading for the stairs.
“Hit the paper on the first shot,” Casey muttered, holding up the target for Sarah to see. “We might be able to make a spy out of him after all.”
Fandom: Chuck
Rating: all
Word Count: 760
Summary: Chuck made a mix for the afternoon, to make it special.
Author's Notes/Disclaimer: Written to go with a mix I made for
creativescape for a Joyous Yule exchange.“I just want you to know, Bartowski, I think you’re an idiot.”
“I know, Casey, you tell me frequently,” Chuck said, pushing his shirt sleeves up and slid his sunglasses on. “Let’s just do this.”
Casey glared.
Chuck took the sunglasses off again and set them on the table. “Ooooo-kay.” He pressed play on the cd player.
Casey grimaced. “What the hell is this?”
“...The theme from Law & Order.”
“I know that. Why are we listening to it?”
Chuck smiled sheepishly. “I made a mix. Spy music, you know. Real jazzy stuff. It’ll get us in the mood to do spy stuff.”
Casey stared at him for a second with an expression that basically said ‘I will be amazed if your own ineptitude allows you to come out of this alive’.
“It’s really not hard, Bartowski,” Casey said, finally turning away and breaking the cynical look. “You point it at the bad guy and pull the trigger. Don’t point it at something you don’t want to kill and don’t put your finger on the trigger until you’re sure you want to fire it. That’s all you need to know.”
He eyed the gun in Casey’s hand. “I don’t know...”
“What’s not to know, I just told you everything.”
It was hard to believe that was all there was to it. Life – even secret agent spy life – shouldn’t be as easy as a game of Duke Nukem.
“It’s not a surface to air missile that you’re going to use to blow pterodactyls out of the sky, Chuck, it’s a revolver which you will hopefully never have to even use.”
Chuck thought for a second about how dinosaurs even came into the picture.
“Is this... Is this Mission Impossible?” Casey was shaking his head.
“...No? Yes.”
Casey didn’t say anything else, he just handed the gun to Chuck, grip first. Chuck took it reluctantly.
“It’s loaded already,” Casey said, pushing Chuck forward by his shoulder and pointing him towards the paper target. “Lift your arm, point towards the target and use the rear sight to line it up.”
Chuck did.
“Don’t pull your shoulder so far up,” Casey warned, “or you’ll strain yourself.”
Chuck lowered his shoulder. Then he set the gun on the table again. “I can’t.” He crossed his arms in front of him. “I’m sorry.”
Casey tilted his head and listened to the music for a moment. He recognized this song. “Is that what James Bond does when he finds out that 006 is the bad guy after all? Did he set his gun down and quit?”
“He had the exploding pen. I don’t have one of those. Are you suggesting we ask General Beckmann for an exploding pen?”
Casey shuddered at the thought. “Master the gun first and then we’ll think about explosives.”
Chuck picked the revolver up again. “Okay, so I can see the target.”
“Pull back on the hammer...” Casey waited until he heard it click. “Keep your eye on the target and pull the trigger.”
He did.
“I did it!” Chuck put the gun on the table and spun around to face Casey. “Casey I did it, I fired a gun!”
Casey hopped over the table and walked to the end of the hall and took down the paper target. “Nice, Chuck, you actually hit it.” Chuck followed after him and peered over his shoulder.
“Where?”
“Here.” Casey showed him the hole in the upper left corner of the paper.
“I didn’t hit the guy,” Chuck said, face falling.
“But you hit the paper, didn’t you? On your first try even. That’s impressive, Chuck.”
“Chuck? Casey? Are you listening to music down here?” Sarah peeked around the corner. “Were you shooting things in here?”
Casey shrugged. “Teaching Bartowski how to fire a gun. You know, just in case.”
“Casey! No target practice in the castle! And no guns for Chuck!” The way she cocked her hips and frowned menacingly was rather convincing. “Get out of here, Chuck and get home, it’s past nine o’clock. Wait... Why are we listening to the Pink Panther song?”
Chuck choked back a laugh. “Just something I whipped up. But you’re right, I’m heading home. Um. Thanks, Casey. And remember you said you’d think about that pen.”
“I did think about it and I say not a chance in hell.”
“Good night guys!” Chuck called over his shoulder, heading for the stairs.
“Hit the paper on the first shot,” Casey muttered, holding up the target for Sarah to see. “We might be able to make a spy out of him after all.”