A/N: I confess this fic came to me after a dream I had while taking a nap the other day. It has stuck with me, so here we go! Enjoy. Also, my other Chuck/Casey story, 'The Blood is Love', is on hold for now.

The Art of Kissing John Casey – Part One

The order came on a Sunday afternoon as Chuck sat at the long table in Castle's main room, leafing through the newest issue of Game Informer with an eagerness he couldn't quite chase from his fingers. He was half-listening to the deep rumble of Casey's voice as he rattled off his weekly report to General Beckman. Chuck knew he should probably be doing something else – Morgan had called him earlier in the day ranting about a new mission plan for Call of Duty – but he and Casey had come to an unspoken agreement about his presence during these weekly reports. Basically, Casey hadn't figured out a way to keep him out and Chuck needed his time away from listening to Ellie and Awesome discuss wedding plans, so as long as he stayed quiet while Casey spoke to the General, he managed to avoid any threats of bodily harm.

Usually. Today: so far so good.

After giving his report, Casey would clean his guns and Chuck would ask him questions about them. He didn't really care about weaponry, but he liked the passion in Casey's voice when he spoke about the makes and models of handguns. It was a nice change from Casey's usual diatribe, which generally consisted of grunts and monosyllabic answers, peppered with the occasional threat that Chuck was certain he'd carry out if pushed too far. It'd become such a routine for them that Chuck found he actually looked forward to his Sundays with Casey. The same couldn't be said of the NSA agent, but he tolerated Chuck's presence and that was good enough for him.

Chuck could tell that Casey was close to finishing up with his report by the way the big man shifted his weight slightly from foot-to-foot. It was a subtle movement, one that someone who hadn't made it a point to study John Casey in his free time would miss. He didn't look up from his magazine as he asked, "Almost time to clean your guns, buddy?"

Casey didn't acknowledge him – neither did the General, for that matter – but Chuck caught the barest hint of a growl vibrate in the agent's chest. It was about as faintly ominous as a distant rumble of thunder, and Chuck tried not to grin with obvious triumph. Casey's answering growl was louder. Chuck raised his magazine to hide his smirk.

He was perusing an editorial of the upcoming Portal 2 videogame, when he heard Casey's voice take on an odd pitch. He glanced up and caught a glimpse of the agent's face, his usual stoic expression momentarily unguarded and…shocked? Chuck straightened in his seat, sensing a shift in the atmosphere. It seemed more dangerous, but then again, the air around John Casey was always rife with a bit of violent promise.

Shifting his eyes to the video link, Chuck realized that General Beckman was looking at him with an air of expectation. He cleared his throat and glanced at Casey, who was staring at him with a vaguely puzzled expression. "Um, sorry?" said Chuck, looking back towards the image of the General. "I didn't hear what you said..."

General Beckman looked as if she just barely suppressed rolling her eyes at him. Nevertheless, she folded her hands in front of her and fixed Chuck with a piercing glare which lost none of its intensity over the video feed. "I was telling Major Casey that you have a new mission. Together, you will pose as a couple on a cruise ship called the Atlantis and make contact with one of our C.I.A. assets. He has information that is useful to us - information about Fulcrum and the Intersect. We need you to go and see if you flash on anything he says. Agent Casey will accompany you for your protection, in case any members of Fulcrum decide to interfere."

Chuck wondered if his hearing had gone fuzzy on him. Maybe Casey put something in his water because he thought General Beckman had said... "Wait, excuse me," he sputtered with an unsure smile, "but did you say Casey and I would be posing as a couple. Can't Sarah and I go instead...?" He looked hopefully at General Beckman, then added: "I know she's away on a separate mission right now, but I'm sure if you called her and let her know the situation it wouldn't be a problem. I mean, sure, I don't need any extra protection besides Casey," which was absolutely true, considering what had happened to the last guy who had tried to mess with Chuck.

It hadn't been pretty - at all - and Chuck had begun to suspect that the guy might have just been an over-interested third party and not some secret spy like Casey had said he was. This suspicion was further evidenced by the fact that Chuck hadn't flashed on the guy, and when he had done a little snooping of his own he'd discovered that the guy was a sales rep from the Beverly Hills Buy More branch. Still, he'd learned not to ask too many questions when it came to things that put Casey in a violent mood – which were too many to count, anyway. Chuck continued his train of thought where he'd trailed off, when General Beckman loudly cleared her throat.

"I'm just saying," Chuck resumed earnestly, "wouldn't it be, I dunno, odd if Casey and I suddenly started…well, if we were to…pretend and…" he couldn't finish the thought. Chuck looked plaintively at the General and then up at the ceiling, wishing fervently for a moment that a chuck of Castle would break off and strike him where he sat.

The General flicked her gaze over to Casey who was looking resolutely at the screen, his jaw clenched so tightly Chuck thought his teeth would be ground to dust.

"No, Chuck," she replied carefully. Chuck swallowed - this was going to be bad. It was always bad when the General used his first name. "Our contact has ensconced himself on a cruise for gay men. For this mission, it can only be you and Major Casey, as Agent Walker is unsuited for the type of cover needed."

'Right,' thought Chuck, 'because Sarah is a woman.'

"Will this be a problem, Mr. Bartowski?" asked the General sharply. She glanced down at what Chuck assumed was a dossier on her desk. "If it proves to be...too difficult an assignment for you, we can call in someone else to pose as Major Casey's lover. It would be too bad, since your presence would prove beneficial because of your unique ability, but the main point of this mission is to meet with our contact and secure the information he has."

Chuck risked a glance at Casey and felt the full weight of the big man's gaze settle over him. He stared at the agent for a moment, his expression thoughtful. "Who would take my place?"

"Agent Cole Barker."

Chuck saw Casey's head snap around at such a blinding pace that he was surprised he didn't hurt his neck. "Surely you can't mean that, General," Casey rumbled, his voice little more than a somewhat intelligible growl.

Chuck, who had slowly been learning the nuances of the various grunts and sounds that Casey tended to use as a means of communication, knew that right then the NSA agent was very, very pissed. At least Casey seemed to dislike the British agent - that suave bastard - as much as Chuck did.

"Agent Barker, despite not having the Intersect in his brain, is otherwise perfect alternative for this operation, Major," replied General Beckman. She fixed Casey with a pointed stare. After a moment, Casey turned away from the screen and muttered something angrily beneath his breath. Chuck could read the tension in the set of his shoulders.

"No."

Both the General and Casey turned to look at Chuck. Casey frowned at him; the General gave him a thin-lipped smile. "Very well then, Mr. Bartowski, I'll notify MI-6 that we will be requiring Agent Barker's services. Now Major-"

"- No," interrupted Chuck, rising from his seat. "That's not what I meant." The General arched a brow and Chuck hastened to explain. "I meant, 'no, I don't want Agent Barker to take my place.'" Chuck didn't look at Casey, though he could feel the intensity of the other man's gaze rake over him. "I'll go with Casey. I'll do the mission."

The General nodded. "Very well. Major Casey, I'll have the mission brief sent to you. You have one week to prepare Mr. Bartowski for the mission and to solidify your cover. After that, you both have tickets to for a vacation in the Caribbean aboard the cruise ship Atlantis. With that, the General cut the video feed and the screen went black.

Uncomfortable silence crept into the room. Chuck finally looked towards Casey, knowing he would find the big man looking back at him.

"Not a word, Bartowski," Casey growled. He looked down at the disassembled guns spread out on the table, and with a sigh of disgust, he turned away. He stomped up the stairs and punched in the code to the door that led out to the Orange Orange. The door slid open with a quiet hiss. Before he disappeared, Casey paused and looked over one broad shoulder at Chuck. "Be at my place by 7:00. We're having dinner." Casey turned away again and Chuck saw the effort it took for him to unclench his fists. "Pack a bag too - you're spending the night."

"Wait! Hey Casey!" Chuck blurted, nearly stumbling over his chair in his haste to catch the agent before he disappeared. He took the stairs two at a time and abruptly came face-to-face with Casey's scowling face, as he barreled through the door and out into the Orange Orange. He just managed to stop himself from running into the other man. Casey folded his arms across his chest and waited, clearly uninterested in anything Chuck was about to say.

"Uh," Chuck began, suddenly at a loss for words. The speech he'd hastily cobbled together in his head evaporated beneath the heat behind the glare that Casey pinned on him. He carded a hand through his mop of brown hair and then asked, somewhat lamely, "Should I pick up anything?"

"2% milk," Casey replied, seeming to push the words through his teeth with forced effort. "I'm out."

With that Casey disappeared and the door closed shut behind him.

(To be continued.)