John watched the video feed from the Buy More security cameras and frowned. He'd just finished prepping and checking the tranq gun when the big screen turned itself on.

'It would appear your assessment was correct, Major.' General Beckman looked more severe than ever, her mouth pulled down at the corners.

'I know my team, ma'am.' The agent's face was impassive.

'I don't have to tell you how utterly reckless I think this plan of yours is. If we lose now, we lose everything.'

Major Casey nodded. 'If anyone can pull this off, it's Bartowski.'

'And you, Major. We're tracking Agent Walker's car, and there are teams standing by to move in as soon as you give the word.'

'I'll be right behind them.' John moved to turn the screen off, paused as the General spoke.

'John? Good luck.'

He nodded and the screen went black. Picking up two holdalls full of weaponry, body armour and gadgetry, he strode up the stairs and out of Castle.

#

It was all over. Black Rock was permanently out of commission, Orion, aka Stephen Bartowski was in the SUV along with Chuck, and Major Casey was having a quiet word with his partner.

'Next time you decide to go off-grid, you might want to try trusting me.' Although his voice was low, his tone was biting. 'You almost handed Chuck to Fulcrum on a plate and got yourself killed. Did you really think I was going to let him be locked up in a bunker somewhere?'

Sarah stared at him. 'You agreed with the General! I couldn't do that to Chuck!'

John's lip curled. 'You're as bad as Bartowski! Think, Walker! Everything that happens in Castle is recorded and goes straight back to Washington! Everything! You're just lucky I had a plan.'

'You planned this?' She glared, hands balled into fists.

John snarled, leaned in, looming over the smaller agent. 'I knew for damn sure you'd go haring off with the asset. Fortunately, I managed to convince the General this was our best chance of recovering Orion, so you aren't heading back to Langley in disgrace. But if you ever pull anything like that again, I will take immense pleasure in hunting you down and handing you over. We're supposed to be partners, Sarah!'

Sarah flushed. 'I did what I thought was best for Chuck.'

'Yeah.' John snorted in disgust. 'Next time you get an idea about what's best for Chuck, you run it past me. Try using some of that CIA training and communicate, for once!' John turned abruptly and headed for the SUV, his anger evident in the rigid set of his shoulders.

Sarah stared after him, looking small and fragile and more than a little lost, then trailed after him, heading to her own car for the long drive back to Burbank.

#

John climbed into the SUV and shut the door a little more forcefully than was needed. Chuck opened his eyes and looked across at the big man with eyes dark from more than fatigue.

'I'm sorry, John.' There was real regret in his voice.

'Leave it, Bartowski.' The agent started the engine and pulled out onto the road without once glancing across at the young man.

'I didn't trust you and you have every right to be mad at me, but I just wanted to get my dad back.'

'I said leave it,' John growled, jaw clenching.

'I didn't mean to-' he broke off as his dad leaned forwards and put a hand on his arm.

'I think maybe you should let him drive, son,' Stephen said gently. The rest of the drive was made in silence.

#

Back at Castle, the two agents and the Bartowskis stood side by side in front of the screen.

'Mister Bartowski, I'm extremely relieved to see you out of Fulcrum's hands,' General Beckman said with a very small smile.

'I'm grateful, but I hope you'll understand if I'm not entirely happy with being here,' Stephen said.

'General, does this mean that Chuck isn't being transferred?' Sarah asked.

The General regarded the CIA agent with an icy stare. After a pause, she said, 'No, Agent Walker. The asset will remain here for now.'

Chuck let out a sigh of relief.

'And by here, I mean here as in at Castle, at least overnight while the agents at Black Rock finish up,' the General added. 'Major, I want you to stay with the Bartowskis. I'll let you know when they can go home. And both of you, I want your reports on my desk by tomorrow morning.' She cut the connection and the screen went black.

Chuck turned to his father. 'Hey, the cots here aren't so uncomfortable. And maybe we can get pizza.'

'Already ordered,' Sarah said. 'I'll have to go pick it up in a minute.' As the three men turned to look at her, she shrugged. 'What? You can't get pizza delivered to a secret spy base.'

'I guess not,' Chuck pulled out a chair and sat down. 'Might as well make ourselves comfortable.'

As the Bartowskis settled in and Sarah headed out to pick up dinner, John busied himself checking and putting away the equipment he'd taken out earlier that day. When he'd finished, a small pile of guns remained to be cleaned.

'Here, let me help.' Chuck held his hands out. 'It's the least I can do.'

John's eyes narrowed. 'You know how to clean a gun?'

'No... But you could always show me.' Chuck wore a faint, hopeful expression that made the big man scowl. 'Please, John. Let me help.'

John growled, slapped a couple of guns into Chuck's hands and scooped up the other three. He headed for the armoury, paused in the doorway, and looked over at Stephen. 'You. Don't you touch anything unless it comes in a pizza box, or I will handcuff you and put you in a holding cell.'

'He means it,' Chuck confirmed.

His father leaned back. 'In that case, I'll make sure I don't touch anything,' he said mildly. 'Got any good books down here?'

John's lips twitched. 'Second drawer on the right. There's a Lawrence Block novel under the requisition forms.'

'Thanks.'

In the armoury, John laid out the guns, then took out a couple of cleaning kits. In silence, the young man watched his hands deftly take apart one of the weapons and then, awkwardly, copied him.

'I should have trusted you,' Chuck said at last, breaking the silence. 'I shouldn't have gone off with Sarah, but-'

'Damn right you shouldn't have!' John scowled at the barrel he was holding. 'You're lucky I didn't shoot you.'

'I had to get my father back,' Chuck said quietly. 'I didn't mean to leave you out, but I couldn't risk you stopping me.'

John snarled, hurt and anger evident on his face. 'You could have told me where they were moving your father before we even left the recruitment center! You could have mentioned your flash! But you didn't! What did you think you were going to do, Chuck? Drive up there and storm the base all by yourself? If you had said something, anything, we'd have had teams out on the road to intercept your dad before he ever reached it. We could have picked him up a lot more easily and with a lot less danger to him and to you!'

Shaken, Chuck stared at the big man. 'I, I didn't think. I stopped trusting you and I was stupid. John, I'm so, so sorry.'

John grunted. 'Yeah, well, it's going to take more than that for me to start trusting you again.' He slapped the gun barrel down on the table and reached for the next one.

With a look of desperation, Chuck dropped the gun part and cloth onto the table and stepped forwards.

'What the-?' Reflexively, John grabbed him by the upper arms, but the young man reached up as far as he could, pressing forwards until he had the agent pinned against the wall, was kissing him with all the pent-up frustration and anger and fear of what had been an incredibly long and terrifying day.

John let go of Chuck's biceps, wrapped his arms tightly around the nerd's not-so-skinny frame and kissed him back, letting Chuck's tongue plunge into his mouth before pushing back aggressively with his own. Chuck's hands came up to frame the agent's face, cup the back of his neck, pull him even closer. He made a whimpering sound as John's arms tightened around him that sent a bolt of heat to the big man's groin, and John growled, sending a shiver through the nerd.

'Sarah! That was quick!'

Stephen's voice rang loudly through Castle and Chuck broke off the kiss with a laugh that was half-sob. For a moment, he pressed his cheek against the stunned agent's own, then he stepped back again, hands shaking as he turned and picked up a gun part at random.

'So, uh... Pizza first, or shall we finish up here?' Chuck's voice was high, with the barest edge of hysteria in his tone.

John licked his lips, cleared his throat, but when he spoke, his voice was low and unsteady. 'You go have pizza. I'll finish up. It shouldn't take long.'

Chuck regarded him steadily for a moment before nodding and putting the piece back down. 'Okay.' He left the armoury and John could hear him chatting with Sarah and his dad.

Taking a deep breath to steady his hands, John went back to work.

#

Pizza delivered, Sarah let Stephen talk her into staying at the base long enough to eat her share, but insisted on going back to her place to shower and write her report for the General. By the time John emerged from the armoury and sat down next to Chuck, she was gathering her laptop, ready to go.

'I'll be back with breakfast around eight.' She spoke to the other agent, her mask of professionalism not quite covering her tiredness nor the shadows in her eyes that hinted of sadness.

John didn't quite nod. 'Sure.'

'See you tomorrow, Sarah,' Chuck said softly. He didn't get up, but he watched as she mounted the stairs.

Stephen reached for another slice of pizza, glancing quizzically from his son to his son's handler and back again.

'What?' John asked, opening the last pizza box and pulling out a slice. 'Book not gripping you?'

'No, no, nothing like that.' With an easy smile, Stephen leaned back in his chair. 'I'm just thinking, trying to figure things out.'

'What kind of things?' Chuck asked, interested despite his fatigue. 'How to fix the second Intersect?'

'Hah! No, although I think I have that figured out, just a question of recalibrating some of the hardware to take account of a slightly different chip geometry, but no, that wasn't it.' Stephen smiled at his son, then his smile faded, became a puzzled frown. 'I missed you. I missed ten whole years of your life. I missed talking with you about dating, girls, guys... You and Sarah, you're very good together. You look good together, mostly.'

John swallowed thickly, forcing the pizza down with difficulty. 'Anyone want a drink?' he asked, fighting to keep a frown off his own face. Chuck's head was tilted slightly, attention focused on his father. Neither Bartowski answered.

'But...' Stephen let the sentence slip away, studying his son's face.

'But?' Chuck prompted, one hand laid casually on the desk, the other inadventently gripping his chair's armrest, the white knuckles betraying his tension.

'But... I know I'm a little crazy. Some of it's an act, keep anyone from wanting to get closer, dig any deeper. You and Sarah, you have the same kind of an act going, don't you.' It wasn't a question.

'Well, yeah,' Chuck said awkwardly. 'Sarah's my handler, and the whole girlfriend thing is just her cover. Where's this going, Dad?'

'Oh, sorry.' Stephen smiled again. 'Sorry, I didn't mean to be cryptic or rambling, but there are things I see and sometimes connections get made and that's kind of one of the bases for the algorithms I used, but that's not what I was going to say, it's just-'

'Still rambling, Dad...' Chuck said, face contorting from puzzled into a pained smile.

Stephen's eyebrows raised, then lowered, the mannerism exactly that inherited by his son. 'I never thought I'd be having this talk, that's all.' He looked squarely at John, then back at Chuck. 'Charles, I guess I'm trying to say that it's okay. I'm okay with it.'

'With what?' Chuck's patience was on the verge of fraying altogether.

His father smiled. 'You and John. Just...' he looked back to the NSA agent, whose cheekbones were definitely not flushing a dull red. 'Be kind to my son, John. He deserves a lot better than he's been handed in this lifetime. I know you're here to protect him. I'd appreciate it if you didn't break his heart in the process.' He looked from one man to the other, then picked up the book he'd been reading. 'I think if you don't mind, I'll go lie down, maybe get some sleep. It's been a long day.' He got to his feet, looked around the room.

John rubbed a hand over his tired eyes, then pushed himself to his feet too. 'Cots are this way,' he said gruffly, jerking his head towards a door.

Chuck stared in horrified fascination as his father followed the tall man back into the depths of the underground base, then buried his face in his hands. Seconds later, John returned, paused beside Chuck, put a heavy hand on his shoulder.

Voice muffled, Chuck said, 'I can't believe my father gave us the Talk! Oh my god!' He dropped his hands, stared up at John, mouth agape with embarrassment.

'Hey, I haven't had one of those since I picked up my date for senior prom,' John said, looking almost as embarrassed as the young man.

'We haven't even... we aren't-' Chuck blinked. 'It's just... wow.'

John grabbed his arms, pulled him to his feet. 'Come on, Chuck. You need to get some sleep.'

'After that?' Chuck's eyes were wide with disbelief.

'Yeah, after that. You can deal with it in the morning.' John put one hand on Chuck's shoulder and steered him back towards the same doorway and down the corridor. The door to one of the tiny sleeping quarters was shut; John guided Chuck into the other, pushed down on that shoulder to get the nerd to sit on the cot.

Blinking, Chuck took in his surroundings. The room was tiny, with just enough room for a small sink in the corner, a fold-down chair and, side by side, two standard-issue military cots. 'Are... are you sleeping in here?' he asked faintly.

John shrugged tiredly. 'I've got my report to write. Depends how long that'll take. I can get some sleep in the chair.'

Chuck's face set into its stubborn expression. 'That's not fair. Don't sleep out there on account of my freakout. When you've finished your report, come and crash in here.'

John's gaze tracked over Chuck's face, searching for a long, long moment, before he blew out a breath he hadn't been aware of holding. 'Okay, Chuck. Half an hour.'

'Or I'll come looking,' Chuck insisted, toeing off one canvas shoe and then the other.

'Yessir,' John snapped, but his voice lacked the sharp edge of sarcasm and Chuck relaxed enough to smile. The agent pushed aside his fatigue and reluctance and left Chuck alone to get ready for bed, forcing down his awareness that the young man would be lying there on the cot under a thin blanket, wearing a t-shirt and boxer shorts, waiting for him to return. Waiting for him.