Casey gave a satisfied grunt as he slid effortlessly into the butter soft leather of the recliner, clad in black silk pajama bottoms and a matching black t-shirt, which molded itself to his muscular torso. He reached for the bottle of whiskey sitting on the coffee table, unscrewed the cap, and poured a generous two fingers worth of liquid nirvana into a cut crystal glass. Taking a sip, he appreciated the slow burn coursing down the back of his throat before settling down to business.
It was a slow night at Casa Bartowski. The moron and Walker were out on a "date" and Captain Jerk Off was away for the weekend with his boyfriends, engaging in some sort of pathetic frat boy shit that probably involved lighting themselves on fire before hurtling off a cliff. "Idiots," he muttered as his mouth curled up in a disgusted sneer. He had seen Ellie arrive home about an hour earlier, looking drained from her latest 12 hour stint at the hospital. While she was most likely snoozing away in bed by now, it was his job and his duty to at least perform an audio sweep of the premises.
He put on his headphones, which were plugged in to his state of the art listening device, and started in the living room, slowly fanning out over the common areas, followed by the bathroom and Bartowski's bedroom, listening attentively for any sound that would signal that something was amiss. His last stop was Ellie's bedroom, where he lingered, hearing the slow, sleep-induced sounds of her breathing mixed with the occasional silky whisper of the sheets. What he wouldn't give to be in between those sheets with her doing some hands-on surveillance. Yeah, he had developed himself quite a little longing for the Asset's lovely sister. Hell, she was hot, smart, and kind-hearted, more than a poindexter like McAwesome deserved. Being the predator that he was, his natural instinct was to go sniffing around her door while her man was away at play. Only his sense of honor and unwillingness to compromise the mission kept him from pursuing his prey.
He was just about to call it an evening when he heard Ellie's breathing start to get more rapid and erratic. He focused his concentration on the sounds starting to emerge. Ellie gave what could only be characterized as a low-throated moan, and Casey distinctly heard her thrashing about wildly in the sheets. "Sweet Christ…" Ellie's sex-soaked cry instantly cut off his musings. She giggled in his ear "Oh my, that was very neighborly," and a few seconds later he heard the sounds of her settling.
He barely prevented himself from spewing a mouthful of Maker's Mark all over his finely tuned and very expensive surveillance equipment. He ripped off the headphones, having the presence of mind to at least throw them onto the seat of the recliner rather than the hard surface of the coffee table, while he reached for his closest fully loaded gun, tucking it into the waistband of his pajamas against the small of his back. He was about to make a mad dash for the door when the more highly evolved portion of his brain came online. "Don't go barging in there like a jackass," it warned, "take a minute to assess the situation."
He paced back and forth in the entryway, trying to piece together a reasonable scenario based on what he had just heard. "Think Johnny boy, think" cajoled the little voice inside his head. He had been visually monitoring the Bartowski household since before Ellie arrived home and saw no one other than her enter or leave the premises. He reached the video surveillance monitor sitting on his desk in three long strides and flipped it on, quickly bringing up the feed from Ellie's bedroom. He breathed a sigh of relief. She was very much alone and from what it looked like, sleeping quietly.
Something was still worrying itself at the back of his mind. Oh, yeah, the whole "neighborly" thing. What was up with that? It was obvious to him now that Ellie had been dreaming, but which of her neighbors was her object de delight? Was it an old, made up, or current neighbor? His mind quickly inventoried their immediate neighbors in the courtyard, eliminating possibilities as he went along. It couldn't be old Mr. Kwiatkowski in unit 112, who was 82 if he was a day and would require an entire bottle of the little blue pills just to lift his staff to half mast. Then, there was leisure suit Larry in 115 who had back hair and a penchant for polyester. A shudder passed through him. That was just plain repulsive. Unit 109 housed a female accountant, Adele something or other, and he didn't think Ellie batted for that team. That left him. His brows lifted and he thoughtfully rubbed the stubble on his chin with his sizeable left hand. What had started out as a mundane evening of routine surveillance work was taking an interesting turn.
Casey sauntered back to the recliner, scooped up the headphones and brought them back to his desk, plugging them into the audio jack on the video monitor and placing them back on his ears. He sat down in front of the monitor and did what he did best, looked and listened. A few minutes elapsed and Ellie started shifting slightly in the sheets. Her head tossed back and forth, and her lips parted. She mumbled something indecipherable, and Casey adjusted the small tuning knob on his left earphone. He could hear better now. She was definitely trying to say something. His eardrums strained to catch the smallest of sounds.
"John," she breathed out in a whisper. His blue-eyed gaze widened almost imperceptibly and his pupils dilated. Yep, that confirmed it. "Well, well, well, Miss Ellie. You have been a very naughty girl, keeping things from 'ole John," he thought, a wolfish grin spreading over his handsome features as he sat back and plotted his next move. This definitely upped the ante.