Set after Ellie sees Bryce and Sarah holding hands in 2.03 – 'vs the Break Up'.
"Dyslexia?"
Chuck and Casey stared at the small bearded man, both looking slightly troubled, examining the man thoughtfully. They exchanged a glance before Chuck replied to Morgan's comment.
"…No," he said. "That's when you try to read words but the letters get all mixed up in your head."
"Oh," Morgan said shortly. "…So that wouldn't warrant me escaping work?"
"Not unless you worked in a library," Casey told him slowly. Morgan frowned.
"Well, how do I get out of this, then?" the small man asked, exasperated. "Big Mike wants me driving around doing installs all day. I don't want to do installs! I'll have to deliver plasma screen tvs to big muscly bald guys, and they don't like people like me!"
"I wonder why," Casey deadpanned, and Morgan gave him an unimpressed glare.
"Chuck, buddy, help me out here," he said. "I need a viable excuse."
Chuck just shrugged.
"I don't know. Stomach bug?" he asked.
"Used that on Thursday."
"Tonsillitis?"
"Three weeks ago."
"Appendicitis?"
"Last month."
"Chicken Pox."
"At Christmas."
Chuck was silent, staring at his friend with a furrowed brow, wondering how the man even managed to get a paycheck anymore. He cocked his head to the side slightly, crossing his arms, and thinking up excuses for Morgan.
"…Multiple personality disorder?" he asked after a moment, and both Casey and Morgan stared at him for a moment, then blinked. Then Morgan jumped, clicking his fingers.
"Perfect!" he exclaimed, turning on his heel and disappearing off between the shelves of the Buymore. There was silence for several moments in his wake before Casey spoke.
"…You don't think that'll actually work, do you?"
"Worked for Hannah Montana."
"Yeah, but your friend isn't a female teenage pop star," Casey grumbled. There was a silent moment before his eyes narrowed. "Or is he…?" Chuck shrugged.
"You never know," he replied mysteriously, pulling his keys out of his pocket and undoing his tie. "Well, my shift's done, so I'm going to go now. Reckon you could remind Bryce that he's not the only one here with a cover to protect?"
"What do you mean?"
"Ellie went over to the Orange Orange to ask Sarah to be a bridesmaid," he explained tensely, and Casey pulled a face. "She saw them holding hands through the glass door. Ellie's a cautious soul…" He trailed off thoughtfully. "It's not my thing to criticise on things I don't fully understand, so I'm just going to pass this to you, but he should spare a thought to the fact that his cover's probably not as constantly important as mine and Sarah's, and she works across the road from a store full of my friends."
Casey grunted an agreement, watching Chuck as he furrowed his brow and exhaled a long sigh.
"We're lucky she didn't see his face," Chuck commented after a moment, and Casey's eyes widened slightly. Then he linked his fingers and cracked his knuckles threateningly.
"You're right," he grumbled. "Go home, Chuck. I'll go have a little chat with Walker and her boy toy."
They parted ways at the door, Chuck going home and Casey stalking stiffly over to the Orange Orange, thinking over the appropriate way to ream out his previously-excellent partner and her whatever-the-hell Bryce Larkin was.
Casey pushed the door to the Orange Orange open roughly, eyes alighting almost immediately on Walker and Larkin, both leaning on either side of the sales counter, hand in hand. He pulled the appropriately disgusted facial expression, and as soon as he was certain that the store had no current patrons, Casey let out a loud growl, sufficiently startling Bryce into jumping slightly.
Hands were dropped and the two CIA agents turned to face him quickly. Casey crossed his arms over his chest, looking at the two of them with the deepest loathing he could muster (and considering he was facing Bryce Larkin, that was a fairly substantial amount). Bryce sneered back at him after a moment, but Sarah looked adequately guilty.
"Clearly not a fan of monogamy, Walker," Casey grumbled tensely, and Sarah quite visibly frowned behind the counter. Casey made sure the door was securely closed behind him before even attempting to continue. "And honestly, of all the guys to cheat on Chuck with."
"I'm not cheating on anyone," she said stiffly, still frowning to herself. "Chuck and I aren't even technically dating."
"Maybe so, but that's not what his sister thinks," Casey replied gruffly, and the woman's frown deepened. "Walker, if you want to keep your little ratbastard of a boyfriend in your hotel room, fine, I don't care, you go ahead and do just that. But keep it there."
"What?"
"Don't 'what' me," Casey grumbled, looking between the two of them with evident disgust. "You two want to be affectionate, then you do that behind closed, opaque doors." He tapped on the glass. "Ellie Bartowski came past here a little while ago. Chuck said something about you and a bridesmaid. She saw you holding hands."
Sarah paled slightly.
"Casey, we're just securing our cov-" Bryce started, but the bigger man cut him off.
"Not a word out of you, Larkin!" Casey ordered angrily. "You're lucky she didn't see your face! You want to talk about securing covers? Let Walker secure hers. Frankly, you jeopardise it merely by existing – a fault I would gladly correct, given the chance – but there is no sense in screwing up months of good work just because you feel like being a particularly pigheaded douche bag today."
Casey grumbled slightly to himself when the two agents before him exchanged a glance.
"In case you haven't noticed – which apparently, goes for both of you," he continued angrily. "Agent Walker is here under the pretence of being the girlfriend of one Chuck Bartowski. He works across the parking lot. He has numerous friends in the Buymore alone, and no doubt knows most other people who work regularly in the rest of the plaza. Pretty much all of those people know that Chuck and Sarah are supposed to be dating. And Bryce Larkin is supposed to be dead, not hitting up another one of Chuck's girlfriends. What, do you two want Chuck stuck in a bunker for the rest of his life?"
He glared at the two of them for a moment longer, making sure he'd gotten his point across. When he was satisfied, he nodded, still very much the picture of intimidation, turned on his heel and stomped out of the Orange Orange, towards his Crown Victoria. Truly, he was pissed off.
"If it's not bad enough she breaks the boy's heart every other week," he grumbled to himself darkly, "then she has to go around screwing with his sister too. Bloody Bryce Larkin."
He grumbled wordlessly to himself while he hopped grudgingly into his car. His drive home was filled with angry thoughts towards the two CIA agents, not all job related. They liked ruining things, he thought. Like covers, and professionalism, and, more than all of that, Chuck Bartowski.
And that pissed him off a great deal, because despite all pretences, the kid was still his friend.