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fluentmoviequoter · 5 months

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Keep Your Enemies Close

Requested Here!

Pairing: John Casey x fem!CIA!reader

Summary: You join your enemy John Casey to help protect the Intersect. When you're injured during the assignment, you learn that Casey might not hate you as much as you thought.

Warnings: angst, injuries (stabbing), mentions of murder and weapon trafficking, teasing and sarcasm, "flirting" from Lester, comfort and fluff, reference to Casey's real name so spoilers

Word Count: 3.7k+ words

A/N: My first Casey fic!! Apologies if he's OOC. I watched Chuck while writing this and had so much fun! Please send more Casey reqs!🫶🏼

“You’re telling me that a retail-working, minimum wage-earning nobody has the government’s biggest secrets stored in his head? What exactly do you expect me to do about that, General Beckman?” you ask, crossing your arms tightly across your chest.

“Quite the simplification, but for your purposes, that is correct. And I expect you to aid his team in protecting the Intersect,” she replies.

“When do I leave for Burbank, ma’am?”

“Two hours. Agent Walker will brief you before she leaves. And one more thing, you won’t be working alone.”

The video feed turns black as she ends the call. You sit back and exhale as you rub your forehead. Being a CIA agent is your dream job, and you’ve worked incredibly hard to get where you are, but babysitting Chuck Bartowski does not sound like an ideal assignment.

At least I’m getting a different partner for once, you think as you stand to begin packing.

“John Casey,” you say slowly.

He turns quickly and his jaw tightens when he sees you.

“Nice uniform. It suits you,” you add.

“Hmm,” he replies, as usual. “What are you doing here?”

“Someone in Washington hates me. I’m covering for Walker.”

“For how long?”

You shrug and mumble, “They didn’t tell me that.”

“Fantastic,” John grumbles.

“So, are we going to stand in the Buy More all day or are we going to do our job?” you ask quietly. “If you can call what you do a job.”

“Follow me.”

You bow sarcastically and flip your hand to gesture for him to lead the way. He inhales deeply before leading you into the Buy More break room.

“Casey, I have a question,” you murmur as you follow him into the small room.

“Of course you do,” he sighs.

“What exactly is General Beckman asking me to do here?”

He doesn’t answer, but when he gets to the bottom of the stairs, he turns toward you and says, “Hopefully, she just wants you to stay out of my way. Sarah’s your friend and your superior here, so just do what she says, and let’s not have a Bosnia situation again.”

“Sir, yes, sir,” you mumble.

Sarah calls your name, and you walk around Casey to join her. She doesn’t tell you much more than Beckman or Casey, though your mission seems fairly simple: keep Chuck safe.

“Just leave him in the car if you go anywhere,” Sarah adds.

“Like a Pomeranian? Should I at least roll the window down and leave the air on?” you reply.

“That’s exactly what I said!” a man exclaims behind you.

You turn quickly and immediately recognize the one and only Chuck Bartowski. It’s amazing, you think, that someone so average can be carrying around world-ending secrets.

“Chuck,” Sarah begins. She introduces you by your cover name before explaining that she’ll be gone for a few days.

“Nice to meet you,” you offer as you shake his hand.

“So, you’re CIA?” Chuck clarifies.

“I am. Just here to protect you while Sarah takes a vacation.” You smile as Sarah chuckles before you add, “You won’t even know I’m here.”

“There is a God,” Casey grumbles.

“He’s grumpy. You’ll get used to it,” Chuck tells you.

“No, I won’t.”

Sarah leaves Castle through a different door than the one you entered. Their base is huge, and you’re starting to understand the importance and sheer size of this operation. A call appears on the monitor beside you, and you accept it before stepping back to wait as the video loads.

“Major Casey,” General Beckman greets. “I trust that your team will adjust well to the temporary changes. Agent Walker has protected her cover by planning a vacation with a family friend.”

Casey grunts his acknowledgment without looking toward you. You know he’s just as unpleased to be working with you again as you are to be with him. For some reason, the government seems to think that you and Casey are a good team. Which is interesting, because you hate one another.

“Just tell me what you want me to do, Major,” you request.

Casey scoffs and glances at you.

“We recommend you pose as Major Casey’s girlfriend,” General Beckman suggests.

“Girlfriend?!” you and Casey repeat together.

Chuck looks between the two of you, wide-eyed as he steps back. The tension between the two of you is palpable, and he feels like he may be injured if he stays between you.

“General, that may not be the best idea,” Casey explains.

“Why not?” she counters.

“General, if I may,” you interject, “no one will believe we are together.”

“Exactly,” Casey agrees.

“Why not?” Beckman presses.

You tip your head back and sigh before levelling your voice to say, “He’s out of my league… ma’am.”

“Then get in his league. That’s your cover, so make it work.”

General Beckman ends the call and Chuck waits anxiously for you or Casey to speak. Neither of you is willing to break the silence after your last comment, though.

“So…” Chuck begins, rocking back onto his heels. “How long have you two been together?”

“Not a word, Bartowski,” Casey snaps. “I may be keeping you alive but that doesn’t mean I can’t hurt you.”

“And you said I’d get used to it,” you scoff.

“I don’t like this either,” Casey tells you. “But it’s a job, so we’ll do it.”

“I- what would your girlfriend do all day? And I swear if you tell me to clean your apartment or wash your car-“

“Just, do whatever you want today. Come back to the Buy More around 4 p.m. and I’ll set our cover,” he answers.

“What if I flash before then?” Chuck inquires.

“Flash?” you repeat. At the same time, Casey says, “I don’t like her; doesn’t mean I can’t get in touch with her.”

You roll your eyes before you nod. He’s not wrong, but every mission you go on together seems to increase the animosity between you.

“Then I’ll see you at 4, or when Chuck flashes,” you say. “Hate you too, boyfriend.”

Casey growls quietly, something you have heard far too often since joining the Agency. He and Chuck return to the Buy More, and you sit alone in Castle.

“What am I getting into?” you murmur.

“Hello?” you ask as you answer your phone.

Leaned back in the desk chair, you toss a stress ball over your head to catch it.

“Get to the Buy More,” Casey says quickly.

The line beeps as he ends the call, and you say, “Yeah, sure. Bye” to no one.

You rush to one of the innumerable exits to reach the front door of the Buy More. Casey and Chuck stand in the Nerd Herd desk, waiting for you, and Casey nods to beckon you over.

“Did you flash?” you ask Chuck.

“Chinese Triad leader Mao Yang is in Burbank for a no-holds-barred poker game,” Chuck tells you.

“Mao Yang?” you repeat, looking at Casey. “I thought he died.”

“Miraculous recovery,” he deadpans. “Faked his own death.”

“You don’t say,” you answer with sarcastic surprise. “What’s the plan?”

“Well, hello. Welcome to the Buy More,” a man says, laying his hand on the small of your back.

“Lester,” Chuck warns.

He raises his hand away from you but leans against the desk to look at you. You glance at Casey, but his jaw is tight, and his eyes are on Lester.

“Thanks, Lester,” you say. “But these gentlemen are already helping me.”

“I can help after you pay if you know what I mean,” he replies.

Casey cracks his neck to the right as he steps toward Lester. Lester stands quickly and raises his hands in surrender before he scurries away.

“Way to pick a cover, Chuck,” you whisper.

“Oh, I already worked here,” he responds.

“That makes it much worse, Chuck,” you say sympathetically. “Just think of it as a voluntary cover.”

Chuck purses his lips and nods slowly. “That may not be a bad idea.”

“Okay, Triad murder poker,” you remember. “What’s the plan?”

“We need to get into that game,” Casey answers.

“That is a terrible idea.”

“Do you have a better one?” he snaps.

“Not at the moment, but I’m sure there is one. What exactly did you flash on?” you ask Chuck.

“Just that he’s going to kill a lot of people tonight.”

You tap your fingers on the desk as you try to think of an idea. “Where is it?”

“China Town.”

“Fitting,” Casey mumbles.

“I have an idea. It’s not better, but there’s less chance of casualty,” you say.

Casey grunts, and you continue, “I’ll go in.”

“How is that better than both of us going in?” Casey asks.

“Trust me. I know it’s a lot to ask from a big, bad Major like yourself, but you don’t stand a chance of getting in there.”

“And you do?”

“Illegal poker games have a… a certain look. One that I can fit into.”

“You want to work the game?”

“That sounds dangerous,” Chuck interjects.

“Chuck knows where we’re going, we have a huge advantage. I catch one of the girls before she gets in, and - would you imagine that - I’m in without drawing attention to the gigantic American man.”

“You haven’t changed a bit,” Casey says.

“Is that a yes?”

“Let’s try it. But if you get trapped in there, don’t expect the gigantic American man to be able to save you this time.”

“Oh, I’d never count on that,” you promise.

Chuck raps his fingers against the dashboard before him. Casey’s eyes haven’t drifted from the side entrance of the restaurant since they arrived. Your confirmation message was short – I’m in – and they haven’t heard a thing since then.

“You two have a history,” Chuck begins.

“Don’t,” Casey grunts.

Chuck nods and moves his incessant tapping to his thighs. “You hate each other?”

“Something like that.”

Chuck falls silent for several minutes, and Casey leans toward the window of his Crown Vic. He’s tense, but that’s not entirely unusual for him.

“Would you really leave her in there?” Chuck asks. When Casey doesn’t answer, he tries, “What happened in Bosnia?”

“The day I tell you that is the day a better president than Reagan is elected.”

“I see… So, your undercover lady friend could never be Mrs. Casey, the real lady friend?”

“No.”

“I think you’re hiding something.”

“Uh-huh.”

“You are?” Chuck asks, sitting up straight in the seat.

“Uh-huh.”

“Well, tell me what it is!”

“Where’s her tracker?” Casey asks instead.

“Same place as the last time you asked,” Chuck answers.

“I’m not here to play,” your voice crackles through the laptop speakers. “Just to make sure handsome men like you have a good time.”

Casey grips the door handle beside him as he listens. He can’t make out what the other person says, but your short exhale tells him that it wasn’t good.

“Maybe just one game, then?” you ask. “Only if you help me decide which cards are good enough.”

“Is she flirting? Or is she a CIA-trained poker shark?” Chuck inquires.

Casey grunts, his eyes fixed on the door. He may hate you, but he loves his job and needs some comedic relief, Chuck thinks.

“Ah, grunt number seven. Skeptical with cynicism,” he teases.

“What happens if I win? … And if I lose? … Maybe I should have kept my job at California Pizza Kitchen.”

The people around you laugh, but their amusement isn’t because of your half-hearted joke. When you lose, and Casey trusts that you will, those men will do unspeakable things to you.

“We have to go,” Casey commands. “I have to go. You wait in the car.”

“Didn’t see that coming,” Chuck mumbles as Casey opens the door.

“Don’t get out of the car, then. Either of you.”

“Casey!” Chuck calls. He points to the computer speaker as Casey opens the car door again.

“‘Stay in the car, both of you?’ Oh, it’s just a trick one of my friends taught me about doubles and spades. Dumb kids, you know? But, seriously, don’t leave the car to come inside is probably good advice in this part of town.”

“She’s a terrible liar,” Casey grumbles.

He sits back in the driver’s seat, though, and obeys your command. You go silent again, and he can only hope that you are winning the game. You’ll be in trouble for winning, too, but not as much as losing. As Chuck and Casey spend another five minutes in silence, they both grow worried because poker shouldn’t take this long.

The side door that has held Casey’s attention opens quickly, and gunfire echoes in the alley as men in suits run out. Casey searches the fleeing crowd for you, but there’s no sign of you. When people stop exiting the building, he opens his door again.

“Casey? Remember Bosnia?”

Casey’s nostrils flare and Chuck rushes to get out of the car. They run across the street and down the alley together, but Casey enters first, with his gun drawn.

“Whoa,” Chuck breathes out.

There’s a podium of losers, ranking from third worst to first, the person who lost the most hands. The bodies situated on the podium are nearly unrecognizable, and Chuck looks away quickly as Casey moves farther inside. Eventually, Casey finds the poker table and holsters his gun as he steps into the bloody room.

“Al- Casey,” you call weakly.

Casey’s jaw tightens at your confusion. You may be what he has referred to as a central intelligence pain, but you’re a good agent. The near slip with his real name is not a good sign.

“Hey!” Casey yells as he turns back.

“Why would you sneak up on me in here?” Chuck asks, his voice high.

“Bring the car into the alley, Bartowski. Now!”

Your head tips back as Casey returns to your side. As he kneels beside you, he lifts a hand to your neck to situate your head in line with your spine.

“I lost,” you mumble. “Guess I’ve been out of practice.”

“You weren’t good before,” Casey points out.

“Still better than Bosnia.”

“Stop talking,” Casey demands.

He pushes your chair away from the table and sits before your knees. Your face is bloody, but Casey is more concerned with the darkening fabric of your stolen dress.

“Yes or no, not a word more,” Casey instructs. “Did you get stabbed?”

“No.”

“Cut?”

“Yes.”

“That’s the same thing.”

“No.”

Casey grumbles as he removes his jacket. He wraps his left arm around your shoulders to tip you forward. You fall onto his shoulder without trying to catch yourself, and Casey tightens his jaw until it aches. As he tips you back to tighten the sleeves of his jacket around your torso, he looks you over for any other injuries.

“That was stupid,” he snaps. “You never should have come in here alone. I knew better.”

“Yes,” you breathe out. “I did get this, though.”

You pass him your phone, with a tracker blinking as Mao travels toward his mansion purchased with blood money. Then, you extend a keychain with three silver keys.

“Store house, safe house…” Just as Casey thinks you won’t tell him what the third key is, you mumble, “And his enemy’s house.”

“Car’s ready,” Chuck calls as he walks in. “Are you okay?”

“I’m fantastic,” you answer. “Never felt better.”

“Is that blood loss or generic sarcasm?”

“She’s just annoying,” Casey answers.

He stands and pulls you into a bridal carry to get you to his car. If you weren’t feeling so disoriented, you’d realize that he must not hate you too much, or he wouldn’t let you get your blood all over his car.

“Hospital?” Chuck asks.

“Echo Park. Stab wound is a little hard to explain,” Casey explains grumpily, as usual.

“Not a stab wound,” you groan in the backseat. “Could you drive less like an old woman and more like an NSA agent trying to save his enemy?”

Chuck looks over at Casey, but he keeps his eyes on the road and his grip tight on the steering wheel.

“Get out,” Casey demands as he pulls into his assigned parking spot. “And keep your sister and Awesome away from the window, would you?” “I’m on it,” Chuck answers before running to Ellie’s door.

“Don’t die on me,” Casey requests as he pulls you into his arms again.

Your cheek presses against his chest as you reply, “Wouldn’t look good for a Major to let his temporary partner die, huh?”

Casey takes you into his place and lays you back to treat your wounds. You don’t say anything as he rips the center of your dress to clean the blood from your skin. With the cut visible, spanning your entire abdomen, Casey takes a deep breath before he begins stitching it closed. You inhale sharply as the first stitch is tightened but remain otherwise silent.

“Can you hear me?” Casey asks. “I’ll take that as a no,” he mumbles after you relax against the couch.

As he finishes taping a bandage over your stomach, he moves closer to examine the bloody scratches and bruises along your cheek and neck.

“Why are you helping me?” you mumble without opening your eyes.

“We’re working together,” Casey answers quickly.

“Wouldn’t have to if you’d just left.”

Casey wipes an alcohol-soaked cotton pad across your cheek. You hiss in pain, and for once, Casey tilts his chin in sympathy. You don’t see it, though, and assume he is only doing this for you because it is his job.

“Now that you saved my life, you can put in a request to never see me again,” you say.

“Again. I’ve saved you before,” Casey replies.

“Bosnia was your fault,” you grumble. “You just hate me enough to know that I’m good, so I’m worth keeping alive.”

“I never said I hate you,” Casey admits softly.

Your eyes snap open, and you turn your head to look at Casey. With the movement, your cheek falls into his hand as your eyes meet his. To anyone else, he’d look like your boyfriend comforting you, but you know better.

“Ellie and Awesome just left for the hospital,” Chuck calls as he walks inside.

“How did you get in?” Casey asks.

“Don’t worry about it. They may come by tomorrow, though.”

“Why?”

“I might have mentioned that you were helping your girlfriend. They asked where I had been and I said you needed a ride, and they wanted to know why, and it just came out!”

“Trust the biggest blabbermouth in the world, Larkin,” Casey mumbles.

“Mao is planning to kill Min Soojin,” you whisper. “I think I forgot to tell you that. He had the key to her house.”

Casey keeps his eyes on you as Chuck flashes behind you.

“Min Soojin is the wife of a Korean weapons trafficker,” Chuck says. “She’s set to be at a public event tomorrow night. Seems like a good opportunity to kill someone.”

“Go home, Chuck,” Casey says.

“But-“

“Go home. Be at Castle before work tomorrow.”

Chuck nods before he rushes out. Casey finishes securing a closure over a gash at your hairline before he stands.

“Sorry, Casey,” you say as you push yourself up to sit.

“It’s not entirely your fault.”

“Wow. Thanks for that.”

“How do you feel?”

“Better than Bosnia.”

You smile and Casey shakes his head. When you push yourself to stand, you grow dizzy and stagger. Casey catches your arms and pulls you against his chest to keep you upright.

“You sure about that?” Casey whispers.

“Unless you did this while I was unconscious and dying, yeah, this is better” you reply.

You look at Casey, only inches from his face as he holds you. He smooths his right thumb over the edge of the bandage under your torn dress before he pushes you toward a bedroom.

“What did you mean? When you said you never said you hated me,” you ask.

“I did say enemies,” Casey points out.

He makes sure you’re sitting firmly on the bed before he hands you a bag of clothes. They’re yours, presumably here as part of your cover.

“Regardless, no matter what I said yesterday or say tomorrow… thank you, Casey.”

Casey grunts once before he says, “Good night.”

“Good morning,” General Beckman greets.

The position of the camera makes Casey’s hand pressed against your back as support invisible. You lean against him, tired and sore, but grateful for all he has done for you. Whatever happens next, if you go back to how it was before or never see John Casey again, this moment is one you will remember.

“The mission was a success,” Casey informs. “We have Mao’s location and intel on a murder he plans to commit tonight, General.”

“Excellent, Major Casey. The three of you will continue following this through, then,” she replies.

“The three of us?” you ask.

“Agent Walker has run into a slight delay in her mission, and with your success last night, I have no doubt this team will remain successful in her absence.”

“I’m staying? For how long?”

“Indefinitely. You work well with the team. Keep me informed on Mao’s plan.”

The call ends, and you unconsciously lean closer to Casey. You notice and stand quickly, but his hand remains close to support you if necessary.

“Welcome back, then,” Chuck says.

“Are you okay with this?” you ask Casey.

“Just don’t get stabbed again,” he replies.

“Cut, not stabbed,” you remind him with a smile.

Casey growls as he turns away, but he watches you closely as he leaves. You’re his girlfriend now, you realize. It may only be a cover, but if you can flirt with him while pushing him to his limits, maybe last night wasn’t completely inconsequential.

“Let’s go!” Casey yells from the door.

“Coming, sweetie pie!” you call, overly sweet as you walk carefully up the stairs. “And don’t do a number twelve grunt.”

“That’s a good one!” Chuck adds. “Fondness barely concealed by annoyance.”

“Should’ve left both of you in the car,” Casey grumbles.

You slip your hand into his, and he looks at your joined hands. There’s no comment or grunt, though, and you’re surprised when he squeezes your hand as you enter the Buy More.

#hanna writes✯#john casey x reader #john casey x fem!reader #john casey imagine #john casey fic #john casey #chuck bartowski #nbc chuck #fem!reader #requests

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