A/N: The amount of surprisingly positive reviews from the initial one shot was astounding. That, coupled with nearly the same amount of reviewers urging me to continue the story, made me at least seriously consider the prospect of continuing one night earlier…last week, now. An hour or so later, I had managed to come up with a passable plot (or at least what I think is a passable plot) and even more Chuck/Sarah-friendly moments to intersperse throughout, and I've been in the process of typing since. So, that said, why not—a small continuation it is. For those who thought that this story did better as a one-shot, my apologies—please don't kill me. For those of you who wanted the story continued—please don't kill me if you end up hating where this went. I think I've now sufficiently protected myself from all possible killing. Moving on…

I'm going to try getting the entire thing finished within the next week or two. There won't be that many sections after this one—thinking only one or two chapters should do it for a few reasons. The plot and interactions I have in mind are fine, but have the ability to be compactly written (and I gravitate toward compact); and much more practically, I simply don't have the time to write a huge epic tale at the moment. If it was an epic tale, the story would most likely never get finished, and that's not fair to the readers at all.

Of course, the usual: I proofed it, I may have missed some mistakes for which I apologize, character thoughts are denoted in italics, and I don't own Chuck.

-.-.-.-

When the customer had initially described his computer emergency, Chuck's initial reaction was "spyware": the customer was describing sluggish performance after an evening of reading and answering backlogged work emails, followed by an hour or so of reading a few articles online and watching some news video clips. Certainly not a fatal problem, and one that didn't warrant a call to the Nerd Herd as an emergency, but if the customer didn't want to wait until the store opened in the morning and opted to pay for him to drive over in order to fix said problem, Chuck wasn't about to argue with extra income. Even if the call did interrupt the planning and the…other thing. His initial spyware diagnosis was what had allowed him to tell Awesome, Ellie, and Sarah that he wouldn't be long at all.

Once he had actually gotten to the customer's condo and looked at the computer, he discovered that it was most certainly not spyware. It was something else, but he wasn't sure what. Two hours later, he had figured out that it was a new virus—A worm, actually, because I'm pretty sure it's infecting computers without the user doing anything, but let's not get technical—that hogged an unbelievable amount of system resources, and while he hadn't figured out mode of transmission yet or what, exactly, the virus did, he had come up with an on-site fix to remove it. The fix wasn't pretty, but it did its job, and the customer was extremely grateful to have a functioning computer again.

Instead of feeling vindication at figuring out the problem and finding a way to fix it, Chuck was instead feeling irritated. Trudging back through the courtyard after the call, the repair had taken nearly 10 times as long as he thought it was going to. I told Ellie that it was going to be an easy fix. Maybe I won't live long enough for Sarah to kill me—Ellie'll do it first. He opened the front door just in time to hear Ellie give her final proclamation, with a slight bitterness toward the end of the sentence.

"That settles it, then. We all like this fabric and the color, so that's what it'll be."

Trying to sneak in as best he could, he eyed the swatch she was holding up. The color was tolerable, as was the fabric. Whatever made his sister happy was fine with him.

"I like the color, El. It looks nice."

Chuck was surprised that Ellie didn't get whiplash from turning toward his voice so fast. The look he was getting from Sarah wasn't hostile, but it was far from friendly. Devon was the only one shooting him a sympathetic look. Great, here we go: the Battle of the Sexes, Revisited. Super spy and super sister against the nerd and the doctor. Ellie took no time in letting Chuck know exactly what she thought.

"Huh, nice of you to join us, Chuck. What happened to that 'easy fix'?"

It was then he realized he probably should have called to let them know that he'd be longer than he anticipated. The vibe he was getting from Sarah now made sense. Sighing at the mess he'd made of the evening, he walked straight to the couch and plopped down near Sarah.

"I know, I should have called. I thought it was something simple, but it turned out to be something that there was no fix for, so I had to go from scratch. Calling just never entered my mind because I was trying to finish so quickly so I could get back. I'm so so sorry."

Leave it to Chuck to say exactly the right thing. He looked guilty enough, too. Taking pity on him, Sarah leaned over to put her head on his shoulder and her hand on his chest. He reflexively snuck his arm around her waist and put his own hand over hers to hold it in place. A beat passed before Sarah realized what had transpired.

Damn it, here we go again. Slip count for the evening is now Bartowski, 2; Walker, 2. At least this one's easy to get out of.

Ellie took pity on Chuck, too, giving Sarah the out she needed by drawing attention away from the two of them on the couch.

"It's OK, Chuck, really. I know that you're going to be giving Morgan an earful in the morning," to which Chuck immediately nodded like a bobblehead, causing Sarah to elbow him while stifling a chuckle, "and we picked a fabric, so I can call the reception hall tomorrow to let them kn…"

Ellie was rudely interrupted by the ringing of Chuck's cell phone for the second time that night. Unbelievable. He scrambled for it before its annoying repetitive chirp pattern started over.

"Hello? … Yes…yes, sir, I remember you. … It's back again? You SAW me remove it, though, right? … What have you done since I left 15 minutes ago? … (sigh) No, sir, apparently the source of the infection is still on your machine, or you got reinfected somehow. … No, sir, I'm not sure which. I'm going to have to come back and look at it. … Yes, sir, I'll be back over there within the half hour."

Chuck was up and moving before he even hung up, not wanting to meet the disappointed looks of the other three. I get back into their good graces just in time for me to leave again. Great job, Chuck.

"Guys, I'm really so so sorry. It looks like this is going to be a long night. Just keep going with the planning and just show me what you guys decided later, OK?"

There was an audible scoff from the direction of the armchair. Ellie was having none of that, and Awesome was nodding his agreement with her as she spoke.

"Don't be ridiculous. This isn't your fault. We'll just reschedule for early next week…? Monday, maybe? Another dinner, movie, and planning evening?"

Oh no, not another movie. One problem at a time, though. Chuck was grateful for Ellie's concession. He knew how much she wanted to get the rest of the details resolved tonight, and definitely wasn't about to look the gift horse in the mouth.

"Rescheduling would be really great…and I really appreciate it. I'm not sure what work's going to look like next week for either of us, but that's works for me at the moment. Sarah, what about you?"

Shaken out of her daydream of how bizarrely normal this discussion sounded, she compensated by rising from the couch and bringing her long-empty wine glass into the kitchen.

"Uh…yeah, same—I can at the moment, but work has a way of being…difficult."

Letting out a small laugh—"difficult" would be one way to put it—he followed her toward the kitchen and leaned on the counter near the sink so he was perpendicular to it. He was all too familiar with Sarah's "getting ready to leave" procedure, and spoke just loud enough so that Ellie could hear.

"Sweetie, you can stay, really."

Ellie vehemently seconded Chuck's sentiment, giving him time to try to ignore the fact that he shifted back into boyfriend mode so easily and that the "sweetie" actually came out natural sounding.

"Sarah, really, please—stay for a little while longer. It's not that late."

Looking up and the ceiling before looking back down at Sarah, who was now in a similar position—her hip against the counter, facing him—after dealing with her glass, he continued.

"I'm not sure when I'll be back, but you know where all my spare t-shirts are and stuff if you just end up crashing…"

Now isn't that incredibly tempting, if not incredibly stupid.

"…but I should let you know that my scheduled on-call shift starts at midnight, so this," holding up his cell phone, "will probably continue all night."

As if on cue, the phone rang again. The prospect of being woken up every 30 minutes by Chuck's phone ringing did not sound appealing. Even if they couldn't talk about tonight—not an outrageous assumption to make, with the phone ringing off the hook and what her answer was going to be—she wasn't letting him off the hook for the major couch slip without at least a parting shot.

"I've got work early tomorrow, Chuck, and given what activities you have in mind…"

…giving him the eyebrow dance back, making his own shoot up as she slowly inched toward him…

"…given that your phone doesn't interrupt again,"

…giving him a pointed glare, slowly creeping her hand up his arm closest to her as she parked herself a little too close to Chuck.

"…staying the night would probably not be wise."

The action unfolded before she could even react, yet it was like watching it in slow motion. Chuck snagged her by the hip with his free hand and pulled her flush against him, turning so that his back was to the counter in the process. With one hand on the counter and the other now sliding to the small of her back, her own creeping hand had ended up behind his neck, and the other was now planted firmly on his chest, with it instinctively flying out to brace her 'fall' when Chuck had spun her.

"Not wise, eh?"

Shit, again?

"Yes, not wise."

Just like this wasn't particularly wise. She had only intended to inch closer to him, an action that would have been second nature months ago. It was a simple action that solidified their cover relationship without actual contact. She had NOT intended to end up inches from him. That tended to have more real consequences. Her thoughts repeated to what they were milliseconds before: Shit, again? Was I NOT just in a rational state of mind 10 seconds ago?

Unconsciously, they both started leaning in to kiss one another with slight smiles on both of their faces. The phone, which seemed to be eerily silent for the seconds prior to the second fairly major slip of the evening, decided to start ringing again, stopping Chuck in his tracks. Its ring apparently was serving as the wake-up call to reality tonight. However, she couldn't help but give the answer that had been on the tip of her tongue on the couch as the phone continued screaming out its ringtone, with their lips nearly touching.

"Chuck, if you answer that phone right this instant, you are in some SERIOUS trouble."

The range of emotions that crossed his face—prepared to comply and kiss her before progressing into shock as he comprehended what she said before finally moving to a thoroughly confused face—reinforced what she was already screaming at herself. Instinct before rationality again. Brilliant. Saving him from having to choose the correct answer, she gave him an extremely fast peck on the lips before backing out of his loose hold and heading back toward the rest of the apartment to get her purse and coat. It took him a few more seconds to recover from everything and finally answer the phone. As suspected, it was another Nerd Herd emergency call. The customer was not amused by how long it took Chuck to answer the phone. Chuck was not amused that he had to answer it at all.

Still on the phone by the time Sarah had gathered her things and said goodnight to Ellie and Awesome, he juggled his phone and briefcase in one hand as he offered the other to her as they walked toward her car. The entire walk was spent with Chuck on the phone, making a valiant effort to get off it before they reached the Porsche; and with Sarah falling deeper into her own thoughts, reflecting on the multiple fiascos that had erupted this particular evening and how all of them seemed to have particularly real consequences for their day-to-day work and just…life in general.

With the customer on the other end still jabbering away as if her world was falling apart by the time the slowly walking not-quite-a-couple reached the Porsche, Chuck was relegated to mouthing a "see you tomorrow" to Sarah with a quick kiss to the cheek before sighing and resuming his conversation with the Jabbering Customer as he walked toward the Herder. Not even waiting until Chuck was a few feet away, Sarah swiftly entered her car and slammed the door shut, using a bit more force than was necessary. Sitting in the silence of her car for a few moments, she seemingly out of the blue slammed the steering wheel a few times before taking a few cleansing breaths and sticking the keys in the ignition.

Now we have to talk about both the couch AND the counter tomorrow, instead of just the couch. Maybe we should just stay away from furniture that starts with the letter "c."

-.-.-.-

Leaning up against the Herder counter facing the front of the store after the Nerd Herd virus briefing, Chuck frantically rubbed the heels of his hands over his eyes in an attempt to wake up. It had been a very long night. His decision to go all hands on deck and call in the entire Herd had, sadly, proven to be the correct one: today was going to be a day, if initial call volume was any indicator. And the store had only been open 20 minutes. Understatement of the century.

His unintentional positioning in front of the counter put Chuck in prime position to notice Sarah walk through the door, clad in her Orange Orange attire. Sufficed to say, he was expecting her to kill him as soon as she saw him because of the couch. And the counter. Though the counter was TOTALLY her…sort of. Bracing himself for possible death, he was pleasantly surprised when she broke into a huge grin upon spotting him and walked in his general direction. He apparently had a few minutes more to live than he thought. Despite being utterly exhausted, he couldn't help but unleash a huge grin back. He was so focused on Sarah that he didn't even notice Morgan slink up next to him.

"So, how's it going?"

Chuck was really not in the mood to have a conversation with Morgan. Little sleep had left him with little patience to deal with him and his altering of the on-call shifts. He slowly breathed in and out once before answering.

"Considering the amount of sleep I got last night, the fact that I didn't get to see my girlfriend for very long or really say goodnight to her, and the fact that we're all hands on deck on a Saturday, it's going GREAT, Morgan, thanks for asking."

Morgan nodded sagely and was about to respond when his mouth snapped shut again when he noticed Sarah's expression: it had changed from loving girlfriend to spiteful friend once she spotted the little bearded man.

"Chuck, why is your lady friend giving me dagger eyes?"

You're lucky they're only eyes and not actual daggers. Chuck wondered the likelihood that he'd be on the receiving end of the daggers—metaphorical or otherwise—by the end of the day.

"That would be because she was on the receiving end when the Nerd Herd call interrupted us."

Certainly not the obvious truth (and what Morgan would automatically assume was going on), but not a complete lie. At least Chuck had learned something over the past year. Morgan nervously looked over his shoulder, evaluating his escape routes, before turning back to Chuck and whispering conspiratorially.

"Wait, the call that came in right before you called me?"

Chuck couldn't help but loudly whisper back as Sarah came into ear shot.

"Yeah, the call that came in during what was supposed to be Anna's shift."

Sarah's dagger eyes had graduated to something far more substantial when she overheard Chuck's comment. They were more like…machete eyes. Or broadsword eyes. Giving Chuck a quick peck on the lips (A little too much lingering, there, Walker—get your head in the game!, something that she had told herself arduously during her self-given pep talk as she walked across the parking lot mere moments before) she focused the gaze's full power on to Morgan.

"Morgan. If you ever switch Chuck's on-call shifts again without telling him, it will not be pleasant. Do we understand each other?"

The threat itself wasn't all that explicit. The malice with which it was delivered, however, was. Morgan got the message loud and clear, and was slowly utilizing his previous planned escape route as he backpedaled away from them both.

"Oh, totally. Sorry about that. And about the, uh, interruption. Really sorry. Won't happen again," and then, pretending to hear some imaginary summons, "Oh, what's that, Jeff? You need more beer? Coming right up!," after which he literally turn and ran.

Amused at the sight of Morgan's retreat, Sarah finally turned back to look at Chuck. With him still chuckling at Morgan, she was afforded the chance to really look at him without being caught. Her expression turned serious once she noticed his appearance.

"Chuck, you OK? You look a little…out of it."

"Yeah, I'm fine, just didn't get much sleep last night. Nothing coffee can't fix."

Noticing her arched eyebrows, he raised his hands up in front of him and preemptively answered the question that she was about to ask.

"No, really, it's fine. That thing that I fixed last night turned out to be a not-so-isolated incident. The phone was ringing off the hook for most of the night. Sleep was a little hard to come by, that's all."

Good thing you didn't stay the night after all. It hadn't helped that the number of calls during Chuck's scheduled on-call shift had dramatically increased from the calls he fielded during Anna's, so not only had he pulled a double for on-call shifts, but he stayed up in between calls to figure out the virus and clean up all the code he'd written to deal with it, and then dragged himself to the store because of his own all-hands call for the Herders.

She didn't look convinced, but before she could say anything else, Casey walked by them and growled out a sentence, speeding up and putting serious distance from the by the time he'd finished.

"Home theater room. Now."

Looks like we won't be having this talk now, will we, she thought. She heard Chuck sigh as he grabbed his coffee mug with one hand and pushed off the counter. As they started walking toward the home theater room, Chuck drew her a little closer so he could whisper into her ear without being overheard by anyone.

"Was that a real kiss or a cover kiss, because I'm REALLY confused right now."

Join the club. The kiss was probably not smart. Just…that grin. She was totally a sucker for it, and had acted before her mind had a chance to scream the implications at her. Slip #1 of today was totally her. This WEDDING is going to cause even MORE trouble than it has already. Her verbal answer was far less conflicted than her thoughts as she grabbed the handle of the home theater room and pulled it open.

"That was an I-didn't-kill-you-last-night-but-you're-not-out-of-the-woods-yet kiss."

His muttered reply as he walked through the door forced her to suppress a large grin.

"Great. I'll start freaking out after the briefing."

-.-.-.-

General Beckman started talking as soon as Sarah and Chuck came into view of the camera, not even giving Sarah a chance to take her normal stoic stance next to Casey or give Chuck a chance to sit on the couch.

"Mr. Bartowski, we have on record that you answered exactly 73 computer emergency calls last night."

What the hell? Didn't see that one coming. Neither did Casey and Sarah, if the brief sidelong looks he got were any indication.

"Uh, I knew there were quite a few, but didn't know that there were 73. I'd believe it, though."

Beckman paused to glance down at a piece of paper she had in front of her. Where was she going with this?

"Do you have an idea as to why call volume was so high last night?"

Is the sky blue? He started nervously adjusting his tie.

"Yeah, all 73 calls last night were about a particularly obnoxious and nasty new virus…that's really a technically a worm…," Chuck got a scowl from Casey, "…but we won't get into that. Anyways, this new virus has been messing up computers pretty bad, so all the calls were about that. The virus is really obnoxious. And nasty. And new, too."

He was rambling, and he knew it. It generally happened when he was nervous. Or tired. In this case, both factors were present. The general's wince, normally triggered by said rambling, was not as noticeable as usual, though. Something was up; he still wasn't sure what.

"Is there a particular reason you didn't notify Agent Casey or Agent Walker about this virus?"

What? Where'd that come from? He was thankful that Casey and Sarah seemed to be as confused as he was, though they were doing a far better job of hiding it. All of them were also sensing that the agents knowing about the virus would have been useful…somehow.

"…well, the virus is particularly obnoxious and nasty, no doubt…and new…but I didn't realize that I needed to inform them about it and that I was dealing with it…? I mean, they're both intelligent people, so it's not like I didn't tell them because I didn't think they'd understand, but I didn't want to bore them with the technical details of a normal occurrence for my boring day job. It just didn't seem…relevant, that's all."

I can't believe that I just called Casey intelligent. Is this really what no sleep does to me?

Beckman was looking down at the same piece of paper she'd been glancing down at throughout the brief. Finally, she shoved it away in disgust before looking back up at the camera.

"That's very nice of you to not want to waste the agents' time, Mr. Bartowski, but would you mind explaining to all of us what this virus is and does?"

Did he walk into a parallel universe? The head of the NSA was asking him to give a briefing on something? And, something that was non-Intersect related? Maybe Morgan made Irish coffee instead of just coffee.

"I can give you guys the brief I gave my Nerd Herders a little bit ago, if you'd like. I'll warn you now, though, while there's not too much technical talk in it, it's detailed. I can cut it down, if you'd like…?"

Beckman's eyes bugged out of her head at the word "detailed."

"The detailed version will be fine."

The way that Beckman said it, it sounded like an order to start talking immediately. Chuck was shocked at the order and the fact that she wanted the detailed version. Casey's pained expression was obvious. Sarah just looked both shocked and puzzled at what was transpiring before her very eyes.

Not wanting to risk Beckman's ire, Chuck pulled the piece of paper out of his pocket—the paper he'd taken notes on all night—and fidgeted with his tie once more before diving into the Nerd Herd brief. In essence, the virus was an obnoxious and nasty one: obnoxious because it spread via changing the underlying code of any email sent from an infected computer, nasty because it created a copy of every single file on the computer and sent the files somewhere. Whoever wrote the virus was good—the actual infection itself was virtually undetectable—but overlooked something rather big. The fact that lots and lots files were being sent somewhere made the Internet and the computer run slow slow slow. It was the sudden slowness that people were noticing, calling in the Nerd Herd once the normal spyware and virus scans turned up nothing. Chuck had gone all hands on deck and called in every member of the Nerd Herd because of how easy it was to transmit ("Think about all the emails that are sent in a day," he said during the brief). There was no official fix out from the antivirus companies, and until there was, Chuck's fix was the only thing that removed the virus and protected against future infections.

Once Chuck finished, Casey's eyes were glazed over from information overload and borderline technospeak. Sarah had followed what Chuck was saying pretty much entire time, and was looking at him in amazement. Just…wow. He was smart, she knew that, but she seemed to forget exactly how smart until he talked computer talk. She wasn't entirely sure if the reminder was going to make the rest of the day easier or harder. Watching him loosen his tie and undo his top button after finishing, she knew the answer. Harder. Much harder. Another beat passed before her agent persona screamed back into her conscious thoughts: GET YOUR ACT TOGETHER! He's talking, for Christ's sake! What the hell's wrong with you!

Beckman had a thorough mixture of grudgingly impressed and outright stunned on her face.

"Can you submit a report within the next hour with everything you just said in it?"

It was Chuck's turn to look shocked.

"Um…yeah, I guess. I mean, we're a little busy today…for the reasons I just described, so it might be a little hard. Can I ask why?"

Beckman looked at the paper that she had shoved out of the way earlier with a barely concealed contempt.

"The information that we have is far less detailed than that."

"…oh. Well, then, sure, if you care so much about it. I'll make it happen."

Turning 180 degrees upon receiving his acquiescence, Beckman finally unleashed the statement that put all the pieces together.

"Mr. Bartowski, this virus has serious implications for national security. We had indications that the virus could cause a problem for us, but we had no idea of the extent of it until now. If a government computer was infected, can you imagine the security risk? By not telling Agent Casey or Agent Walker about this virus once you discovered what it could do, you have endangered some of our country's most valuable secrets. They should have been your first call, and the fact that they were not is not acceptable."

Finally understanding the NSA director's motives, and not appreciating the implications of those motives, he fired right back at her, biting back the retort about the irony of him, the one with all the secrets, endangering them.

"Yes, now that you mention it, I can honestly see how this would have national security implications. And I can understand how you may be slightly irate with me for not telling Casey or Sarah about the virus. But, really, no offense: I don't officially work for you, remember? 'National security' isn't my first thought when I'm doing this job. That's what you pay people for. It's, 'Oh, look, broken computer.' If you want me to start watching out for national security risks while I'm fixing computers, I'll do it, but start paying me."

The director looked shocked, and started to speak several times before clamping her mouth shut again. An eternity seemed to pass before she seemed to realize the validity of Chuck's statement.

"I can see your point, Mr. Bartowski."

She paused before continuing.

"Could you find out who designed this virus and where the computers' files are being sent to?"

Don't you pay people to do that? He was calmer when he answered her again.

"I don't know, maybe. But, and I really mean this with less…emotion than the last statement: don't you actually pay people to do this stuff? Isn't this why you keep them around? Why use me?"

Her answer was refreshingly candid.

"Because you're the only person I've talked to yet today that has an idea of how this virus is SPREAD, let alone what it DOES."

The implication present in the statement was true. He had cussed up a storm last night while trying to figure out how the virus worked, and as irritated as he was with the NSA at the moment, he wouldn't wish that frustration on anyone else. No need to reinvent the wheel. Beckman, perceiving his hesitation, finally added.

"And we'll find a way to pay you…for this, that is. We'll have to negotiate for anything more…permanent," implying the Intersect and him watching out for national security risks while working at the Buy More.

It was official. He was in a parallel universe, where he got paid by the government, drank Irish coffee at work, briefed the NSA director, and thought John Casey was intelligent. Maybe this parallel universe has me with a certain CIA agent as my real girlfriend, too.

"Fair enough. I'll get you the report ASAP, and I'll start working on figuring out the virus' author and where the files are going as soon as I can."

Beckman looked pleasantly relieved, and reiterated the main points—type report, find author, find files, get paid—before cutting off the connecting off the connection without so much a word to Casey or Sarah. Both wheeled around and stared at Chuck as he pinched the bridge of his nose a few times and dove for his coffee mug. Casey was quite obviously livid at not being addressed once throughout the entire brief. Sarah was not livid, but with the look he was getting, Chuck was again silently revising the odds of him being on the receiving end of a dagger by the end of the day, and the odds were not changing in his favor.

Time to start freaking out.