"Bartowski!" He's going to have to stop jumping every time, because that just encourages him.

"I'm with a customer Casey- ow, ow, ow!"

He's steered, with a combination of careful pressure and brute force, in the direction of the stock room.

He's only dropped when Casey has kicked the door shut with a boot.

"My neck is not a grab handle, and for that matter neither is any other part of me, and on the whole I'd appreciate less dragging in general."

"This is important," Casey says flatly.

"So are the customers," Chuck points out.

"No they're not."

Casey makes arguing very, very hard...and also sometimes painful.

"Well could you at least try not to treat me like a prisoner of war in front of them, it leads to awkward questions, and staring-"

Casey is stealing his tie.

Why is Casey stealing his tie?

"What are you doing?"

It comes off in one hard yank.

"Sarah doesn't approve," Casey says roughly. "She doesn't think you're ready."

"What?" Chuck shakes his head. "No, I'm not, I'm not...what am I not ready for?"

One hard tug drags Chuck's shirt all the way out of his pants.

"OH...don't you think we should talk about this."

"No." Casey starts on his shirt buttons.

Chuck puts his hand up to stop him, or protest, or possibly do it himself, he's a little confused.

But Casey smacks his fingers out of the way.

"Ow, you're kind of rude in social situations, you know that."

And then Casey's fingers are inside his shirt, dragging open the buttons with some sort of magical efficiency.

"I said I'd give it to you," Casey says.

Which is...

"You'd, umm, what?" Clearly this isn't quite coherent.

"Something every man needs." Casey manages to make that sentence sound threatening in a way that isn't comforting at all. Because if he's talking about-

"Uh," Chuck says intelligently because the drag of warm knuckles across his bare chest briefly steals all the intelligent things he was no doubt planning to say. Like thank you very much for your kind offer but you're not really my type.

Casey catches both edges of the shirt and jerks it open hard enough for Chuck to thump into the cage behind him.

Casey gives him a look up and down.

Like he's considering if he'd be worth eating.

Oh god, maybe Chuck's type isn't quite as concrete as he'd thought.

His shirt is dragged down his back in one long movement, then flung across the room.

And the metal is cold, really, really cold.

"Oh!" One quick sway forward puts him pretty much within breathing distance.

He's not used to Casey being this close without people shooting at him.  Or at least in some sort of terrible fear for his life. So his body decides this would be a good time to flood his system with adrenaline.

Which is clearly a bad thing.

His body sucks.

"And if you don't want to tell Sarah, you don't have to." How does Casey's voice even get that low, that isn't a voice that should be used in a public place.

But they're kind of not in a public place are they, they're sort of alone, in a locked room...and he's half naked.

"Do you want it," Casey asks flatly, which derails Chuck's train of thought so badly that people are fleeing the station.

"Oh god," Chuck manages.

"Do you?"

"I think I do," Chuck's voice is no longer taking orders from his brain.

"You think you do?" Casey raises an eyebrow that suggests 'that is not good enough.'

"I'm a little nervous," Chuck admits.

"That's to be expected, it's a lot to take in."

Chuck stops breathing, it all just lodges in his throat in some sort of helpless whining noise.

"It takes some getting used to before it feels comfortable." The way Casey stretches out the last word is almost obscene.

Chuck can no longer form words, he's just randomly opening and closing his mouth because on one hand 'oh my god most terrifying mental images ever' but on the other...he's so inappropriately hard he's having trouble breathing.

"But you should have protection."

"Not on me," Chuck says vaguely, and then realises that he's just agreed to...stuff without even a vague protest, or at least looking at some sort of diagram or something. But Casey's doing his special 'agree with me or be inventively hurt' face. Which should absolutely not be as hot as it suddenly is now.

"Now, you're about two sizes smaller than me."

"Now that's not exactly fair-" Something smacks into his chest, something heavy, and hard and ow!

"Kevlar," Casey provides.

"Kevlar?" Chuck says stupidly, and for a very confusing moment he thinks it's some sort of euphemism.

It turns out it's not.

Great this is fantastic, not only did the United States government want him to never have sex again, now it was apparently making him gay.