"He followed me home," Chuck tried to explain.
Casey just crossed his arms and glared at him. "Bartowski, It ever occur to you that it might be bugged?"
"You mean fleas?" Chuck looked down at the dog, sitting quite happily on the kitchen floor, panting quietly in expectation.
"Bugged. As in surveillance devices."
"Casey, isn't that just a little paranoid?"
The NSA agent didn't back down. "Some of us might say that my … paranoia … has kept you alive. It might have a tracking device. Or even a bomb."
"A what?" Chuck's voice threatened to go hypersonic.
"A bomb. Wouldn't take much. Just a little C4 implanted under the skin. Or in the belly. Then just a cellphone call and … boom."
The last word was said almost silently, just an exhalation of breath, but Chuck got the meaning loud and clear.
He blanched. "They wouldn't."
"Been done before."
"You mean, you've –"
"You finish that sentence and you'll be sucking your food through a straw for a month. I happen to like dogs."
"So you've never –"
"But other people do."
Chuck gazed down at the dog again. "But he looks so … helpless."
The dog took this opportunity to sit on his haunch and start investigating his rear end, giving both men confirmation that he was, in fact, a dog, and hadn't had any attention from a vet. He was quite noisy about it, too.
"He's a stray."
"So?"
"I don't have the time to be babysitting you and a dog."
"You don't have to babysit me." At Casey's look, Chuck backtracked a little. "Okay. Maybe once in a while. But you wouldn't have to babysit Oscar."
Casey's eyebrows drew together. "Oscar?"
"Or Fidel. Or maybe Jayne, I haven't decided yet."
"Jayne is a girl's name."
For an idle moment Chuck wondered where that particular option had come from, then shook his head. "Anyway, you said you like dogs."
"Yeah. Big dogs. With lots of teeth. That are trained to go for the throat." He leaned forward a little.
"Oh, come on, Casey. I know you, and I'm sure that, under that hard and spiky exterior, you're just a soft marshmallow really."
"Food? Straw?" the big man reminded him.
"Okay, okay. But I still don't see why I can't have a dog."
The door opened, and Ellie hurried through, arms full of brown bags, Devon at her back similarly burdened.
"…so we called security," she finished, then looked around. "Oh, hey, guys."
Casey smiled, as he always did around Chuck's sister. "Hi."
Devon closed the door with his foot. "Hey, dudes." He grinned. "Anyone want to come running with me? I thought I'd do a different route, maybe up around –" Whatever he was about to say was buried under a huge sneeze.
"Gesundheit," Ellie said. "Are you getting a cold?"
Devon shook his head. "Nope. I feel fine. Just –" Another sneeze wracked his body, and he quickly put down his bags so he could cover his nose with his hand. "I have no idea –" He tried to hold the next one in, but it was too late. "Atchoo!"
Attracted by the noise, the dog stopped snuffling around its hind quarters and got to its feet, ambling around to see who was trying to bark.
"Sweetie, I think you'd better –" Ellie was interrupted by another huge sneeze that rattled the light fittings.
"I don't know what's happening to me," Devon managed to get out, his voice changing as he spoke until he was almost unintelligible. Then he looked down. "No. No, no, no," he said, backing up.
The dog looked at him and wagged.
Ellie stared. "A dog?" she said accusingly. "You've brought a dog into the apartment?"
"Nothing to do with me," Casey said, holding up both hands.
"He followed me home," Chuck added.
"When you know Devon's allergic?" She quickly pulled a handful of tissues from the box in her brown bag, giving them to her fiancé, all the while glaring at the other two men.
"He is?" Casey asked.
"You are?" Chuck's face fell. "I didn't know."
"I'm sure I've told you," his sister said.
"No."
"Babe, I'm going into the bedroom," Devon said, only it came out more as Babe, I'b doing indo de bedroob. He backed up, the dog following him, until he basically just turned and ran.
Ellie grabbed for the dog, holding onto his scruff. "You, stop laughing," she said to Casey, who had barely cracked a smile, then turned on Chuck. "And you, take this dog outside. And do something with it!"
"Like what?" Chuck asked, taking the dog from her.
"I don't care!" Her dark brown eyes flashed and she hurried after Devon.
Casey chuckled, a deep low sound that generally meant he was really amused. "So what are you planning on doing with him?"
Chuck looked hopefully at him, and the chuckle turned to a growl.
--
In the end, it was Ellie who came up with the solution.
"There's a little girl who's coming out of the hospital today. She's been sick, but she's getting a lot better. Only her dog got run over while she was inside, and she's moping."
Chuck looked down at Oscar – or possibly Fidel – and sighed. "Are you sure I can't –"
"No!"
Feeling dejected, he took Fidel – or Oscar – around to the address Ellie gave him, and found she'd already rung the parents, prepping them to his arrival. A child was standing behind them, but it wasn't until she saw their visitor take a small brown dog out of the strange car that she stepped forward, a smile slowly growing on her face.
She walked towards them, and the dog wagged happily. Squatting down, she began to stroke the dog's head, and he rolled over so she could get to his belly.
"Sorry, big feller," Chuck said, going down onto his heels and ruffling the dog's ears. "Looks like we're not meant to be."
The dog panted at him, his tongue hanging out of the side of his mouth, back leg twitching as the soft skin was tickled, and something clicked. That face, those eyes … they seemed so familiar.
The small girl looked up, a grin brightening her whole demeanour. "Thank you," she whispered. "What's his name?"
Chuck grinned, and the rebellious little nerd in his soul punched the air in satisfaction. "Casey," he said.