hackthis_archive | Chuck - i'm not going to write you a love song

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Chuck
Chuck/Bryce - PG
Pre-series

i'm not going to write you a love song

Bryce has lost his keys. Again. And because he's lost his keys, he can't get in his car; and because he can't get in his car, he can't go across town to his study group; and because he can't get to his study group, he'll fail his Japanese exam and flunk out of Stanford and be booted out of the CIA. You can't be a secret agent man without a college degree; Bryce is pretty sure that's in the by-laws.

The key-losing thing happens about once a week, sometimes once a day. Never more than once a day -- except for that one time when Chuck ended up duct-taping Bryce's keys to his chest in frustration at Bryce calling him every thirty minutes to let him in the building.

That was a little strange. And kind of homoerotic. Not that those two things are mutually exclusive.

It's not that Bryce is absent-minded; no one has ever heard of an absent-minded secret agent, except for Maxwell Smart in Get Smart and that was a TV show. Everybody knows that TV is full of falsehoods and pancake make-up, gravity-defying women and logic-defying plotlines.

No, there's no such thing as an absent-minded secret agent, unless it's a very dead absent-minded secret agent, which would serve them right.

Bryce is getting off-topic though, because the topic is keys. His keys. Without keys, Bryce can't get in his room, except for the whole thing with the door already being open, and maybe that's why Bryce's keys are missing, because someone stole them to break into his room and steal all the classified government secrets that he doesn't keep there.

Bryce doesn't even keep his gun in his room, because that would be the fastest way for Chuck to find it, and that would lead to all sorts of questions that don't need to be answered until after they graduate, gay marriage is legal and pigs fly.

Digressing.

Bryce's train of thought isn't normally so Chuck-like, but Bryce does live with Chuck, and sometimes he gets to see him half-naked, so a certain amount of rambling was bound to rub off.

None of this explains Chuck lying on the floor in a patch of sunlight when Bryce opens the door to their dorm room, and in a heartbeat it's Bryce's worst nightmare ever.

Someone broke in and knocked Chuck out.

Someone broke in and killed Chuck

Someone found out that Chuck is the most important thing in Bryce's life, and this is his punishment.

Someone --

-- left Chuck sleeping on the floor.

Yeah, now that Bryce is on his knees next to Chuck's splayed out body, he can see all the tell-tale signs: the sprawl of Chuck's body in a sort of lowercase 'h', the wrinkles on the shirt he's been wearing for the last three days, the drool on the corner of Chuck's mouth.

Oh, and the soft snoring.

Bryce is tempted to kick Chuck in the ribs just for the two whole seconds that Bryce thought something bad had happened to him. Not that anyone would probably be able to tell even if a fight had happened. They don't exactly keep their room up to Martha Stewart standards.

Bryce rubs at his face, but between splayed fingers, he sees the glint around Chuck's finger and he remembers what the hell he's here for in the first place. Keys. Someone's keys. Anyone's keys. Chuck has keys. Chuck has a car. He won't mind if Bryce borrows it. Especially since he's all passed out and drooling after staying up for three-days to study for his Advanced Physics exam. It's not as though Chuck's going to be using his car anytime soon; he was barely verbal when he left for his exam in the first place.

It should be the easiest thing ever for Bryce to take Chuck's keys while he's sleeping; Chuck sleeps like the dead. Bryce has physically dragged Chuck out of bed and had Chuck smack his head on a shoe without Chuck so much as twitching.

This is going to be a breeze. Except for the part where Chuck sniffles and takes hold of Bryce's hand. Yeah, Bryce really wasn't factoring any hand-holding into the equation. It doesn't help that Chuck's hands are big. And warm. But definitely big.

Bryce tries not to fixate on this characteristic most days.

JAPANESE!

Bryce has to go to his Japanese study group.

Except that Chuck's grip is rather strong,

And maybe if Bryce just gets a little closer –

Yeah, that has to be the stupidest plan ever. Almost as stupid as the part where Bryce thinks that sort of lying down next to Chuck is even better.

It's a better angle. Yeah, it's all about the angle.

Chuck looks so peaceful after seventy-plus hours of madness -- even with the drool – and Bryce hasn't really been sleeping because he's been quizzing Chuck. Maybe a nap would be okay. Just a quick one. It's not as though Bryce doesn't have the best grade in his Japanese class anyway. It helps that the agency sends him to Osaka to work on his language skills every couple of weeks.

Besides, Chuck would probably be really mad if Bryce stole –- borrowed –- his keys and lost them. Again.

Right.

Bryce has no idea what time it is when he wakes up, just that the sun is most definitely not streaming through the windows anymore and Chuck's thumb is most definitely stroking the back of his hand. Bryce can't imagine what could lead Chuck to think this is a good idea, although it might be the fact that Bryce is curled around Chuck's side like a limpet.

"Yurrr." Bryce's yawn completely kills his excellent -- yet, completely unformulated explanation for why they're cuddling.

"Is there a reason we're holding hands on the floor?" Chuck asks the room thoughtfully.

Bryce can make out Chuck's profile perfectly. The obscenely long eyelashes. The slightly crooked nose. The quirking mouth.

Bryce tries not to think very hard about Chuck's mouth when he's in the company of other people; that always ends badly.

"You were tired," Bryce says matter-of-factly. "I was tired. Watching you study is a taxing business; it was naptime."

Chuck turns his head and gives Bryce a bleary-eyed smile. "Naptime, huh?"

If Bryce shifts just that little bit, they could kiss, but that can come later. Preferably after Chuck takes a shower. Instead Bryce exhales through his nose and rests his forehead on Chuck's shoulder. "Never underestimate the power of naptime," he says wisely to the check of Chuck's shirt.

Chuck yawns loudly, and after a moment Bryce can feel Chuck's breath ruffling his hair. "Will there be cookies and juice after naptime?" Chuck asks after a moment.

Bryce smiles into the fabric of Chuck's shirt. "I was thinking more like beer and potato skins."

"I knew they let you into Stanford for a reason," Chuck teases.

"Yeah, I know, I'm just that smart."

"I thought it was because you were just that pretty."

Bryce stiffens and not in the good way. "Chuck, guys don't call other guys pretty."

"Would you prefer if I said you were ugly?"

"Bartowski, I'm going to make you stand in the corner in a minute."

"Kinky."

"Only if you're very good."

Chuck seems to think this over for a moment. "How good are we talking here?"

"Very good. Or very bad, depending."

"I could do that."

"I could do it better if we got up off of the floor."

"You mean naptime is over?"

"Well, you know, I always liked naptime, but playing with toys is much better."

"What kind of toys are we talking about here?"

"All kinds of toys," Bryce promises. There's nothing in the by-laws about not using CIA-issued handcuffs for sex. At least Bryce doesn't think there is. "I even have fire truck."

Chuck snorts. "Wow, you really are kinky, aren't you?"

Bryce just laughs. "I have all kinds of secrets, Chuck. Maybe I'll tell you about them one day."

-end-

+ Title from 'Love Song' by Sara Barilles
+ Photo from Getty and provided by