Chuck Versus the Birthday

By Steampunk . Chuckster

Summary: Agent Bryce Larkin's puzzling attempt to look up an old college friend after he disappears with U.S. Intelligence's top secret Intersect sends Larkin's betrayed partner Agent Walker to Echo Park, Los Angeles, California as Chuck Bartowski's birthday approaches. Slight AU of the pilot.

A/N: Appreciate your kind words about this fic, folks! Please enjoy. :)

Disclaimer: I don't own CHUCK or its characters. I'm not making money posting this.


He looked up from his phone at the feeling of someone squeezing his shoulder. He jumped and pocketed it quickly, spinning on his heel to face his sister.

"Okay, I know what you're gonna say," she said, apparently not noticing how quickly he hid his phone. "You're gonna make fun of me or give me that knowing look of yours and it's gonna be really annoying. But…you and Morgan are doing that sandworm thing again, right?"

Chuck blinked a few times, moving his hand to cup his ear. "I'm sorry? Say that again?"

Ellie Bartowski rolled her eyes. "I'm going to make fun of you freaking nerds for it still, but it…" She grumbled something under her breath.

"What? What was that? It what? I just heard grumbly-grumbs."

The brunette pressed her lips together and tried in vain to keep him from seeing her amusement. "You're such a little jerk," she growled, ruffling his hair. "The people love it. They love the sandworm. It's always the highlight of our Halloween parties."

He pumped his fists over his head. "Yesssssss! She admits that the worm is great!"

"Okay, calm down."

"I wish Morgan was here. He'd lose his mind."

Ellie giggled, spotting the worm coiled in the corner on the floor of his room. "That's why we had this conversation while he wasn't here."

Chuck snorted. "Okay, that's fair."

"So what was going on with the phone there?"

Damn it. She had noticed. Why did he always underestimate her? She was basically a witch with her observation powers.

"Hm?" She gave him a flat look and he sighed. "I was…checking my phone."

"For what?" The wide closed-mouth smile she sent him, the way her green eyes sparkled… He knew what was coming. "Or for whommmm?"

"Stop it."

"What?!" She shrugged dramatically. "You keep galloping off all the time to see that same woman without letting us meet her and you did the whole 'she works in the government' thing to explain why she has stayed so far away from us and I get it. I get it. I'm sure having a government job is hard, but…"

He squinted at his sister. "But what?"

"Nothing. I'm happy for you. Because you seem happy. You're all…I don't know, smiling more and working harder and I noticed you actually…iron your shirts, which is new. I didn't realize how wrinkled your clothes were before you started using an iron." She tilted her head and narrowed her eyes.

"What? I…ironed things."

"Uh huh. Sure ya did." Chuck rolled his eyes. "That's not the point. I'm just glad you have someone. That's all."

"But…"

"What but? There's no but."

"I know a but when I hear one. Nope. Stop. I heard it as I was saying it." He giggled childishly as she groaned.

"You don't make those jokes with her, do you?"

He stopped and thought about it. "I don't know if I do or not. Maybe I'll try one and see how she reacts."

"Oh God."

Chuck laughed, slinging his arm over his sister's shoulders. "When you getting into your costume?" he asked with a straight face.

She gasped, spinning on him. "I am in my costu—You asshole!" His sister cracked up and shoved him away from her. "You know I'm going as Annie Wilkes, you jerk." She picked at the floor length, frumpy vest dress she'd pulled on over a green sweater turtleneck. She'd even flipped her hair in a certain way and pinned part of it to the side.

"I know, I know. I just wanted to see your reaction."

"And how was it?"

"Oh, chef's kiss. Also chef's kiss? The outfit. Love it." She pulled a mallet up from behind her back and gave a creepy smile. "Oh shit, wow. Do not come anywhere near my feet. I like the cross necklace. Perfect touch."

"Got it at Goodwill."

"Nice."

"Why aren't you telling me who had you so distracted on your phone if it wasn't your mystery lady you've been dating? You dirty birdy."

He cracked up, leading her out of his bedroom. "Do not say that to me, that's so freaking creepy." She snickered, pinching his arm from behind him. "But I already sort of told you, it was my mystery lady. Wait." He spun on her once they got to the kitchen. "She isn't a mystery lady, not to me. We're dating. I know some things. About her. Yeah."

"Oh, that was convincing."

"Say, why are you giving me the fifth degree about this woman I'm seeing anyway? Maybe I'm just trying to…ease into this relationship and not have it be so intense… Yeah! You ever think about that? That maybe I got too intense with other girls, like…like Jill. And now I'm trying to be careful."

"You're right," she said, holding up her hands as she went into the kitchen and started shifting more of the sodas they bought into the coolers on the floor. "I'm sorry. I keep pressing you to date and be normal, and now you are and you're trying to make it count by taking things slower. And I'm giving you crap about that. I apologize."

He believed she was being sincere so he shrugged one shoulder. "It's okay. I know. This whole me-dating-thing is new for all of us."

Ellie giggled. "Oh, stop it." He smirked, stepping in to help her. "Is she nice?"

"Yeah. She is. I've told you that."

"Good. You deserve someone nice. She looked pretty from across the courtyard. Like, really pretty."

He rolled his eyes again and shook his head at her. They'd had multiple conversations about this over the last month, the way she hadn't actually been that worried when she couldn't find him at the party because she'd seen him from across their courtyard, talking to Sarah, "engrossed" was the word she'd used to describe it. She'd seen Sarah, from fifty feet away, sure, but it had left him feeling a little less alone…knowing that he hadn't just imagined all of this, that one of his people had seen her too.

It was different now though.

Sarah was here in LA, staying in that same hotel downtown, still on her R&R a month later, with no real timeline for when she would go back to work. In a way, it left him feeling a bit in limbo, though he wouldn't say that to her. He didn't know if she'd up and leave to go back to D.C. and get her next mission, disappear for weeks on end, months… Here one minute, gone the next.

They'd stayed up late many a night, splayed out in her bed, talking about nothing and everything. He still didn't quite understand how this worked with the CIA, the ins and outs of her job. She told him she was different, that it had all worked out very differently for her, that she'd been built differently than everyone else, that the process for her was completely upside-down…without giving him any more information than that.

She couldn't tell him more than that.

For your safety, she'd said.

Which sent chills down his spine thinking of it now.

Chuck vowed to make the time he had with her count, not knowing when she'd be pulled away from him again, and for how long. They'd gone on beach trips, affordable but nice dinner dates, adventures up and down the coastline when he had more than one day off at a time.

And still, there was something…like she was holding back a little. Or maybe he was. Maybe they both were. It was so new, so abnormal, so unlike any relationship he'd ever dreamed of having. It was a learning curve, for sure. That was how she put it one night when his brain was going a mile a minute.

A learning curve.

Yeah… pfft really. Dating a spy while she was on her R&R period was already far off the beaten path for him. How would it be once she went back to working? Could they do it? Could they keep this unrelenting need to be with each other up? The passion? That sensation he got in his chest when he heard the light secret tapping of her fingers on his window in the early hours of the morning? How he pulled the window open as quietly as possible, helped her inside, and immediately felt her lips on his, her legs wrapping around his waist?

Morgan and Ellie were starting to smart a little about the fact that he was avoiding bringing her over to meet them. And Awesome put on a good face about it, but Chuck knew he was wondering too.

Sarah'd offered the advice of giving them a line about her working in a government job. It made her very busy. And any bit of time she got around her work, they spent together. As best they could.

It had been working for the last few weeks now.

But Chuck knew it wouldn't work for much longer.

He wondered if they were starting to think maybe she wasn't real after all.

That he was making her up to save face.

And in spite of all of the strangeness that inherently existed in this relationship of theirs, the lack of labels they'd put on it which was a little weird too, the tentative up-in-the-air nature of their future, and specifically Sarah's future with her job, it also felt so damn good he could scream.

Sarah Walker, CIA agent, made no bones about it; she was clearly very into him, into this thing between them, committed to it continuing. She'd said it in no uncertain terms one morning when they woke up together in his bed. He thought she'd been asleep, on her back facing away from him. Then she'd rolled over, surprising him, awake, her eyes wide, lip trapped between her teeth, and she'd told him, Chuck…this is crazy, I know, all of this, this thing between us, sneaking around your people, hiding it from the CIA. But I want it. It's good. Better than good. I'm committed to this. You and me. Together. I'm not letting anything mess this up.

He'd memorized the moment, and thinking of it now sent a rush of excitement through him, a sensation like nothing and nobody could touch him.

Chuck pulled his phone out of his pocket and peeked at the screen again. Still no response. Part of him wondered if maybe something had happened with the CIA, another mission perhaps, and she couldn't use her phone anymore. Or maybe she had to go to ground and destroy it. Somebody was coming after her because of something she did for the CIA; maybe she'd knocked off an important crime boss and his brother found out it was her?

You killed my brotha…

How would he ever contact her again? Nerves burst through him at the prospect of not knowing how to reach Sarah. And the thought of her going off alone again, disappearing in some safe house somewhere. Would she ever let him join her?

He doubted it.

And he had his life here. His family. His friends. His job.

She'd never pull him from that even if he wanted to go.

At this point, he was sure he'd do anything for her. If she sent for him, he'd leave in a heartbeat.

Chuck told himself to calm down, to stop making up crazy scenarios in his head.

He only sent the text a few hours ago. Maybe she went to see a movie, or she went hiking where she didn't get service. He'd told her about the Halloween party over two weeks ago and she'd been reticent about it.

How did she describe her existence to his family, she'd asked? Her work? Her background? Her childhood? It was all a mess, she'd stumble over it. It was just too much trouble. She needed time to work out a backstory and teach it to him.

So he'd dropped it. He'd understood.

And then two hours ago, he couldn't help sending another text. Just a reminder about the party, if she was free, if she wanted to just pop by. She didn't even have to wear a costume, he insisted. And she didn't have to tell Ellie, Morgan, and Awesome anything about her life or her work. They'd understand, they already knew she "worked for the government", and that they weren't really supposed to know anything more than that.

She hadn't responded to that text, though.

She wasn't coming. He knew she wasn't. And he had to enjoy the night without her. Morgan and the sandworm would definitely help.

"Okay, see? You keep checking your ph—" Ellie's eyes went wide as he glanced up at her, and then she gasped. "Oh, did you invite her tonight? Is she coming?"

Her excitement sort of broke his heart. She wanted to meet this new woman in his life so badly, he knew. She felt like she was left out in the dark about it. But mostly, the ache in his chest was from how much he longed for these two extremely important woman to meet one another. He just knew Ellie Bartowski would do the thing she did, the thing she'd always done, wrapping people up in her warming and repairing existence, pulling them into her circle, bathing them in light, making them feel important. It was a superpower. The thought of Ellie directing that power at Sarah Walker, super spy, made him almost giddy.

He couldn't think of anyone who deserved his sister's soul-healing friendship more than Sarah Walker.

It wasn't to be. At least not tonight.

"Uh, no. Sorry. I invited her but she has…work things. You know."

"Ah." Ellie's face fell a little and she masked it with a bright smile. "Some other time."

"Yeah." Chuck nodded. "Yeah, some other time."

They silently finished loading up the sodas in one ice chest and the beers and wine spritzers in the other, then lugged them out into the courtyard where Morgan unceremoniously dumped big bags of ice into them. The guy had been so close to riding his bike to the corner store for the ice and Ellie had been plagued with horrifying imaginings of him trying to ride back with bags of ice slung on either side of the bicycle, so she gave him her car keys and threatened his literal life if anything happened to it, letting him drive to pick up the ice for them.

He'd escaped a grisly fate for tonight, her car still in one piece, without a scratch. And the ice was procured.

"I appreciate the grape sodas," he said, giving Ellie his glassy-eyed smile as per usual.

"Yeah well…I like to be prepared for all of my guests' wants and needs, even the little bridge trolls." She walked off again, leaving Chuck and Morgan alone.

"Bridge troll. Ouch," Chuck muttered.

"Hey, that's a step up from the last one."

"What was that again?"

"Gremlin leech."

Chuck hissed with a wince. "Ah yes. A classic."

"Mhm."

Morgan slapped his hand on Chuck's back then. "Ready for the sandiest sandworm performance ever?"

"Yeah but…Morgs, do we gotta throw actual handfuls of sand out as we're dancing? Like, I know for a fact, I'm gonna have to be the one sweeping it all up after the party."

"I'll help you!" his friend announced with a shrug. "It'll be grand. The people will lose their minds."

Chuck sighed and nodded. "Okay, fine. Fine!"

"Look, I even infused it with specks of fool's gold so that it looks like spice." He reached over and grabbed the big bag of sand, wiggling it.

"Heeeeey, that's actually pretty tight, buddy! Nice work!"

"A'thank you." He bowed. "So long as nobody asks where the gold came from."

"Where'd the gold come from?" Chuck asked. Did he even want to know?

"Don't ask. I said don't ask."

"Right." He put extra emphasis on the 't' at the end, narrowing his eyes. Guests began to wander in just then and he went into full host mode, squeezing his best friend's shoulder with a "Showtime!" and dashing off to fulfill his duty.

}o{

Even with the pillow clamped over her head, she heard the buzz of her phone.

She'd completely turned off the sound of the phone she'd been using to talk to Chuck. Not that she didn't want to hear from him… But she was burying herself in her bed, in her thoughts, in all of the decisions there were to be made, and the extra weight of knowing what he still hid in his bedroom somewhere—she didn't want to know where just in case.

She knew if she grabbed her phone and engaged in the long texting session habits they'd recently fallen into, it would be difficult for her to have a clear head as she dwelled on everything.

He'd be there, influencing the direction of her thoughts, with his cute dweeby texting quirks. The way he used emojis. His all caps he sent sometimes. The sweet things he said to her, things she'd pull up and look at later, over and over again, letting it seep into her soul.

The man was so good at influencing where her thoughts went, how she reacted to things, and he genuinely had no idea.

So she silenced her phone that she used to correspond with him.

Which meant that buzzing was coming from the other phone.

Sarah moved the pillow and sat up, shoving her blond hair back from her face. They hadn't tried to contact her in over a month. They let her be, the way Graham had promised they would. So what was this about?

She scurried out of bed and pulled about the bedside drawer, lifting the false bottom and looking at the phone. She was surprised it hadn't run out of power. She hadn't charged it in almost five days.

Sarah pulled it up to her ear, a tinge of nerves pricking at her chest as she didn't recognize the number.

She didn't say more than just a quiet, "Hello?"

"Clear?"

Graham.

What was this about?

"Walker, clear," she responded. "Director Graham. To what do I owe the pleasure?"

"A pleasure, is it?" She didn't feel it necessary to reply. He already knew. "You seem to be doing very well without the agency." Her hackles rose immediately as she climbed up to her feet and paced to the window. "Don't worry, we don't have eyes on you. I was just assuming because you haven't come back in over a month. Quite a long time to be away."

She let out a silent, relieved sigh, leaning her shoulder against the glass of the window. "Then you aren't tracking this call…"

"I can't. You've made it so that I can't find where your phone is."

"So you checked."

"Of course I checked. I'd love to know where you are right now."

"So would a lot of people."

"Hm. I don't doubt it."

"So what's this about, Director? Is my R&R over? You calling me back to service?"

"No. I meant what I said. You come back when you're ready to come back." She straightened to her full height, surprised. "I know. Not what you expected, is it?"

"It…isn't, Sir. Honestly. Why is the agency being so lenient with me on this? It's…out of character."

"It is, isn't it?" He chuckled. "When you have someone who's as much of an asset to the goal of the agency as you are, Agent Walker…Sarah…you learn pretty quickly that keeping them happy, healthy, both physically and mentally, is to the benefit of everyone involved. Broken agents aren't of much use, are they?"

She shook her head in awe. "Okay. I'll accept that." She took a deep breath. "So why did you call, if not to yank me back onto a mission."

"Thought you'd like an update." She froze, staying silent. This either had something to do with the Intersect, or Bryce, or both. "Our assumptions of Agent Larkin's motivations were right."

"Which assumptions? How do you know?"

"I thought he sent the Intersect back to us because the heat was too much for him. We nearly caught up with him two days ago. At a gas station near Yuma. According to the attendant there, we missed him by an hour." Sarah shut her eyes in relief. That was just like Bryce, escaping by a hair. He probably got off on how close it was. Crazy bastard.

"And?" she prompted.

"And he saw fit to correspond with us. Before you ask, no, he didn't leave us any room to track where the email came from. Slippery little shit."

Sarah bit back a snort.

"But he confirmed it. He gave us the Intersect back because he deemed it too priceless to hold onto. Too many people were coming after him, the heat was too much. And he couldn't find anyone he trusted enough to keep it for him, to protect it without it corrupting them. We were the one entity he knew he could trust the most with it."

"Trust with it?" she asked. "I'm…confused. He wasn't trying to sell it to the highest bidder? Is he stupid?"

"Unfortunately, I think what we're dealing with is a rash idiot who stole the Intersect because it was too powerful and he feared who might end up with it. That it'd fall into the wrong hands. So he stole it with the intention of making sure that didn't happen."

"What? He took it from the CIA to protect it? As if that didn't plunge it into even worse dangers than keeping it in our safe care? That's…ridiculous to the point of absurdity."

"Hm. Isn't it just. Like I said, a rash idiot. But in his own misguided head, he was doing the right thing."

Sarah shook her head, biting back her smile. "So this whole time, he had good intentions."

"He stole from the U.S. Intelligence community, Sarah."

"Yessir. He did. Good intentions or not, he did something very stupid." Graham grunted in agreement. "So now what? Are you giving up the chase?"

"No. Of course not. He doesn't get off that easy. Who knows if he isn't just lying to save his own ass from consequences. And when he find him, he will face consequences. He stole top secret, very dangerous intel from the CIA. A program no one else but those very few of us who've been read into the project know about. He's in some deep shit when we catch up to him."

"Of course," she said with a nod. "I was hoping you'd say that."

"Ruthless as always," he said with a snicker. "I miss you, Agent. When you coming home?"

Sarah frowned deeply. There wasn't warmth in it. It was a boss, an employer, asking for his employee back. And neither of them were under any impression it was anything more. But she was also grateful he was giving her space, that he wasn't reneging on that, that he was aware that her health needed to come first or she'd be of no use to the agency.

There were deeper levels to it she knew it would do no good to dwell on. That she deserved to be treated like a human instead of a tool, whether she'd be of use or not.

In a perfect world…

This wasn't a perfect world.

But since she met Chuck over a month ago, the world had become a lot better. The light in her chest was a lot brighter. The world clearer. The air outside fresher.

"I don't know," she said honestly.

She liked where she was. It felt so good she thought sometimes she was in a dream. That she'd wake up in her apartment in D.C., or at her sparse desk in her equally sparse office at Langley.

Every day, she woke up in this room, in that bed, feeling like she had a new lease on life. And it wasn't just about Chuck, it wasn't just the floating feeling she had in her when she thought about him, how everything in her sped up and rushed and filled with light when she saw him, when he smiled at her, when something she said made him laugh.

Walking through the streets of LA, not wearing a disguise, not being on any sort of mission more complicated or deadly than finding a stand she could stop at in the Farmer's Market to eat lunch…it all felt so normal, so simple and uncomplicated.

Sitting in Echo Park for a few minutes as the end of Chuck's shift approached, waiting for him to meet her there, watching kids play with kites, watching the ducks waddle around with their chicks in a row behind them, felt like a gift.

She loved feeling so untethered. And at the same time, she discovered she was feeling even more tethered, but this time to the right things. To other people, to life, to this existence. Her feet were on the same ground others were walking. She wasn't slinking in and out of shadows. She didn't feel like a ghost anymore.

She existed in this universe, with these people.

Smiling as she moved out of the way of a child running with their toy on a leash, having their parent acknowledge her to apologize as they swept past in a frazzled rush to chase their kid… being seen like that, it was so new and different and wonderful.

She never wanted to go back to the shadows again.

And she wondered if she could be a spy and still exist like this. She thought maybe she could've done that all this time, and she'd just thought she couldn't. Perhaps her superiors had purposely made her think she couldn't. Molding her into a weapon was a lot easier if she didn't have any tethers, any connections, to other people, to places, to anything that wasn't the agency.

Sarah Walker needed more time to figure all of this out. So she said as much.

"I need more time."

"Well." Graham sighed. "I don't know what I expected. But nobody's butting heads with me on it yet. So you have time."

She shut her eyes in relief. "Thank you, Director Graham, sir."

"Hm. The Intersect is safe, you're still answering my calls, and we'll catch up to Larkin eventually. If any of those three things change, especially the first two, I'm afraid we'll have to cut this vacation short, whether you're ready or not."

"Understood."

"Good. Walker… Sarah. Take care of yourself."

"Will do, sir."

She hung up and went back to her drawer, turning off the phone altogether and sticking it back in its hiding place, slipping the false bottom back over it, and shutting the drawer, slumping onto the bed.

Sarah finally picked up her other phone from the nightstand.

She went into her texts with Chuck. And she stared at the one he'd sent a half hour ago.

"Hey! Ok sorry. I know I asked and you made your position clear but just in case you might change your mind. It's Halloween and our party is tonight. In our courtyard. Ellie's stoked hell even I am. :P It's at 7 but you can come whenever if you want. No pressure. And no costume necessary even. I would really love to see you. If not its ok! I will see you another day!"

He sent a smiley face with it.

Sarah bit her lip. There was a lot in the text. And he knew what he was asking, too. Which was why he'd been sure to insist there was no pressure and that it was okay if she chose to skip it.

Because if she went to that party, his sister would be there. Her boyfriend, too. And Chuck's best friend Morgan. There was no way to go without that meeting happening. Those multiple meetings. And when that happened, it would solidify things in a way nothing else had so far in this…thing between them. This relationship.

She'd kept things feeling almost…transient. And it wasn't on purpose, but she still felt it there and she didn't do anything to change it.

It wasn't fair. And it was too scary to try to fix.

Because as good as it felt to be with him, she wasn't stupid. There was something so deeply comforting and safe about what existed between them. There was a solid connection, a soul-deep bond. And it wasn't merely physical, though that was certainly there.

There was a seriousness about this.

It scared her.

Was he not scared too?

She didn't know. He seemed like he was diving in headfirst. With a fucking spy. Did he not know how much danger there was here? For him? For his emotions? His feelings? His heart? Throwing all his eggs in a spy's basket?

Jesus Christ!

She was such a huge risk. She was transient. For sure. It was deep in her blood.

And then at the same time, the way he dove into things, his rashness, the way he did everything with his entire being, is what made her fall so hard. And every moment she spent with this man, she fell that much harder.

If she let his people in on this, if she met them, started some kind of relationship with them, this was more than she feared she should let it be. It'd inherently be more. And she couldn't step back from that.

Once they took that step, there was no going back from it.

Shit.

Muscle memory had her pulling up the photos in her phone, and she scrolled through them. The picture of Chuck standing on a curb at the end of a parking lot. They'd stopped at a lookout spot somewhere south of LA on some random beach. He had his hands stuffed in his pockets, and he was balancing on one foot, his other foot sticking out to the side. And he was looking out at the sunset, so chill, so sweetly childlike. He'd had no idea she pulled her phone out to take the picture of him. His back to her.

His lust for life was so addictive. The way he lived so completely, enjoyed so thoroughly.

He wrapped his long arms around life in a big bear hug and squeezed with everything in him.

And when she was the one lucky enough to be in those arms, oh God.

Nobody was here to save her from drowning in this, in him, from stepping right into the deep end and letting it take her.

And she didn't much want to save herself.

She stared down at a picture she'd taken of them both in bed, the sheets pulled up to their chins. His arm was wound around her, his face pressed passionately against her cheek and she was giggling, the purest happiness she'd ever seen in her features as she snapped the selfie. All mussed hair and contentment.

God damn it.

She glanced at her closet. It was there, waiting for her, and she'd been so sure she wouldn't need it. That she'd eventually take it back without it ending up on her body in any way, shape, or form.

She wasn't going.

It was too much, too soon.

She would make it up to him later. She'd explain things to him. This was hard for her. She was so used to being a shadow. Transitioning out of that would take longer than this. And she needed time. Please.

She just needed time.

}o{

He galloped, clicking his feet against the pavement, trying to see as best he could through the rudimentary holes covered in thin gauze. They didn't want the sandworm knocking over the drinks table or getting torn up by the foliage in the planters when the worm went diving into it because he stepped wrong.

It was an intricate balance, a delicate dance.

"GO SANDWORM! GO SANDWORM! GO! GO!"

Chuck heard Morgan's absolute glee as he cackled behind him, squeezing Chuck's hips tighter. And he grinned, stepping to one side, then to the other, bouncing the head up and down.

They cheered louder.

God damn, the people loved Shai-Hulud so much.

"SHAI-HULUD, GIVE US A ROAR!" one of the guests nearby yelled into the costume.

It was a giant worm. Roaring wasn't really…it's thing. But sure.

Chuck reached back with one hand and tapped Morgan's head. He'd let his little buddy do the honors.

And as Morgan let loose with a terrifying, loud roar, Chuck reared the head back and shook it towards the heavens.

The crowd absolutely erupted.

And thus the dance began again.

He'd started to lose himself in it when someone stepped into his peripheral. He saw their feet near his, and he followed the silver cloth heels up the skintight matching silver legs. They stopped where the brown burlap of his worm costume started.

Reaching back again, he felt for Morgan's shoulder. Their wordless way of conveying ideas when they were in the bones and skin of Shai-Hulud kicked in and his best friend stopped with a, "Huh? What…?"

The crowd had seemed to stop paying attention to the worm anyway, letting it fold itself into the background of the party, which was always their signal to not wear out their welcome.

So he pulled the head up off of his torso, lowering it to the side, and he turned to face the silver heels and legs.

And he froze.

Everything in him froze.

Seven of Nine—the Seven of Nine—stood before him in the full silver catsuit, the Starfleet combadge on her chest, and the Borg cybernetic implants half circling her left eye. She pressed her lips together in a shy smile and lifted her right hand in a bit of a wave, where he saw the Borg prosthetic lining her fingers and wrist.

There was a gasp beside him, the back end of the worm fell to the ground with a whoosh and a thump, and then: "Tertiary adjunct of unimatrix zero one!"

It came out in one rushed breath, and then Morgan bowed his head to her as though she was his queen.

Chuck really didn't blame him at all for it.

But he couldn't look away from her, his jaw having fallen to rest at his feet.

"Is…he okay?"

"No," Chuck breathed. "What's more, I'm not either."

Her blue eyes widened. And then she pointed with her left hand down at the worm, all deflated and harmless on the cement between them. "Is this…some kind of…um…dragon?"

"A worm," was all he was capable of. Then he corrected himself, because it was important. "Sandworm."

"Oh." She nodded. "Hi."

Finally, Chuck grinned, his eyes sweeping down to her feet and back up again to her head, the way she'd styled her hair back into a severe twist at the back of her head, just like Seven. Everything was so much like Seven. Dear God.

He let out a breathless chuckle, awe in every note of it. "Oh my God, hi. I…Sorry. Sorry, hi. You broke me. I'm broken." He reached out to feel the material covering her arm. "It's so real. It's so good. You… The combadge." He couldn't breath. "The…on your eye, the Borg cybernetics. I'm… Oh my God, how?"

Chuck shook himself. "I'm sorry. Sorry. You're here. And dressed like this, but also here. Hi, Sarah."

"SARAH?!" Morgan made him jump, he exclaimed her name so loudly and suddenly. "YOU. ARE. SARAH?!"

Biting his lip and beaming around it, Chuck nodded, still unable to keep his eyes off of her. How did she do this? Where did she find all of this? Why did she do it, when he made it clear she didn't have to show up in costume? He would've felt like it was a gift just to have her here, in whatever the hell she chose to wear. And instead…?

"You blew my whole mind," he muttered, leaning in to press his lips to her cheek. Her cybernetic prosthetic hand slipped into his and squeezed as she grinned up at him. "Um, shit. I'm being so impolite. Sarah? This is my best bud, Morgan. Um…"

Holy shit, he was giddy. He wasn't even sure what to do with himself. His insides were leaping, his heart trying to burst out of his chest.

The woman he loved was meeting his best friend and he needed to get a fucking hold of himself because this was important; it was something he'd wanted for over a month. All of those conversations he and Morgan had about Sarah, how much he knew Morgan was dying to meet this woman who'd better freaking deserve his best damn friend, as he said over and over and over again.

"Morgan, this is Sarah. Geez. Uh… Yeah. Heh!" He pushed his free hand through his hair.

Morgan's face erupted into the biggest most Muppet-like grin he'd ever seen as he spun to look at him, and then he spun back to Sarah. "Oh my God! Wow!" And he reached out to take the hand Sarah shyly offered, shaking it hard. And then he looked down at the device on Sarah's hand. "THE BORG CYBER—OH! OH GOD!" He turned back to Chuck, pushing his chest tight into the taller man's, and then he stage-whispered, "Resistance is futile", the smirk on his face leaving nothing to the imagination.

Chuck rolled his eyes and shoved Morgan away.

"It's so good to meet you, Sarah!" Morgan was saying, spinning on his heel to face Sarah again. "I've heard a whole lot about you."

Sarah raised an eyebrow. The one without the Borg cybernetic implants.

"Not that much," Chuck reassured her in a mutter.

At least she looked amused.

And then Morgan opened his damn mouth, the way Chuck hoped he wouldn't. "This Seven look is so radical, so so so so radical, like I'm dying it's so radical, I'm even willing to forgive that the Borg prosthetic should be on your left hand."

"Morgan," he warned through gritted teeth.

Sarah looked down at it. "Is it? Shit! How'd I miss that detail?"

"It's not important," Chuck rushed out.

"Nah, no. It's not. It's not a big deal," Morgan said. "Left hand, right hand, what's the difference, ya know? It isn't, like, a cornerstone of her whole outlook on the univ—ow! So-so uh…Sarah's here. Sarah's here. So nice to finally meet you. Wow."

Chuck had tried to be subtle about stomping a bit on Morgan's foot to shut him up. Sometimes he could be that type of nerd, the gatekeeper, the stickler to detail, the snob. He wanted to stop that before it got too far with Sarah. She was here now and he needed her to feel welcome. So damn welcome she never ever wanted to leave.

"I'm glad to meet you too," Sarah said, still seeming very shy in this environment. She kept sort of looking around, shifting her weight. Was she this unused to being in a situation like this without weaving in and out of shadows? Out in the open, meeting people? "Chuck's told me a lot about the shenanigans you two have gotten up to together."

"Oh yeah. We're stinkers." Morgan giggled, rubbing his hands together. And then he slapped Chuck's arm a few times. "Chuck… Chuck, am I dreaming? Pinch me. Please."

Chuck did. Hard.

"Ah! Ouch. Jesus, dude…"

Chuck shrugged at his friend's offended look. "Wake up, buddy."

As Morgan rubbed his arm glumly, Chuck began to gather up the worm. "Let-Let me just get this to, um, a safe…place."

"No, no. Hey. Hey, you be with your girl, man!" Morgan snatched the thing out of his arms. "Show 'er around! I've got Shai-Hulud." He saluted awkwardly with the burlap all twisted up in his embrace.

"Oh. Thanks, Morgs."

Sarah gave a cute little wave as he hurried off. Now that he was free of the worm, unencumbered, he stepped in close to Sarah, his hands falling to her waist. He felt the hardness of lines, plastic or something, like a corset was there. God. Oh God.

He hoped it wasn't restricting her air intake, though. She seemed to be breathing just fine.

"You are… I can't handle this right now. It's too much."

"Should I change?" she giggled, arching her eyebrow.

"No, no! No. Nope. Please stay…just like this."

"Yes, Captain."

Chuck brought his fist up and bit down on it. "Live long and prosper," he grumbled, going in for a kiss. He hadn't seen her in two days, and feeling her lips under his again was like getting another hit of some illicit drug.

When she broke the kiss, she smoothed his curls down and he winced, her cybernetics catching a bit of his hair in them.

"Oop! Sorry!" she giggled, reaching up with her other hand to release him from it. "I didn't think that through."

"Well you thought the rest of this through, that's for sure. I thought you weren't coming. Not only did I not think you were coming, showing up like this? The picture perfect Seven of Nine… How did you even know about her? There's no way you're a Trekkie. That'd be too much. A badass…well, ahem…what your…job is," he muttered under his breath, earning a smirk, her eyebrows bobbing. "Super cool, super smart, super skilled, super gorgeous… But also a Trekkie? Nope. Not possible." He shook his head vehemently. "And there's no way you'd be able to hide that from me for a whole month."

"Uh, I had no idea about Star Trek 'til I started dating you. And I've been figuring out what to wear since you first invited me to this Halloween party. There are too many options out there."

"Wait." He shook his head, brow furrowed. "You said you couldn't come when I first asked you."

"I know. And I meant it. But I guess I still wanted…something…in case I changed my mind." She shrugged one shoulder cutely, the combadge shivering a bit when she did. "I changed my mind."

"I'm so glad you're here," he said, smiling. "Still, doesn't explain how perfect this choice is." He held up a hand in a panic. "And this isn't me looking a gift horse in the mouth. Not at all."

Sarah snorted and shook her head at him, giving a little eye roll. "Honestly, it was kind of a crapshoot. I know you love Star Trek, so I looked for a female character that would be easy to identify. Blonde with blue eyes and the face thing? Done."

Chuck blinked. "Wow. Nerds are so easy, aren't we?"

"Mhm," she said with a happy giggle. "On my way in, I got a guy to spill his punch all over himself just by walking by. You nerds are way too easy."

"I'll just own that," he mumbled.

"Good idea."

"Hm." He leaned in and kissed her again.

"Chuck, can y—Oh, sorry. Oh. Oh!"

Chuck broke the kiss, giving Sarah's startled features an apologetic look before he turned to face his sister. "Hey, El."

"Hi. Yep. Hi. Hi!" Ellie gave an excited little wave, light emanating from her whole being. She was barely holding it in.

She had to recognize Sarah. He wondered if after all this, she hadn't cemented Sarah's face in her brain because she was the woman her little brother was apparently dating, stuck on, whatever else his older sister had observed in the last month. Who was he kidding? She was Ellie Bartowski. She had to know he was in love at this point and she was keeping it to herself.

"Sarah, this is my sister, Ellie. Ellie, this is Sarah."

"Hi, Ellie. Nice to finally meet you."

"Oh you have no idea how good it is to see you. To meet you. Hi. I said that already." His sister grabbed Sarah's hand in both of hers and squeezed, grinning so hard he thought it might legitimately break her face any moment.

Sarah giggled, seeming charmed at least.

"I'm so sorry if he made you wear this Trekkie thing."

"Hey!" he exclaimed half-heartedly, giving his sister a gentle, playful shove.

"He didn't," Sarah insisted. "This was my own concoction."

Ellie's eyes went wide. "You watch Star Trek?"

"No. No, no. Please. Absolutely not."

"Um, hey again," Chuck groused as his sister cracked up. He was both not liking and absolutely adoring this immediate repertoire between Sarah and Ellie.

"I just thought it'd be something nice to surprise him with."

Ellie practically chortled as she smacked at Chuck's chest. "This guy? Surprise him with—Oh, Sarah. You have no idea just how deeply he is dying on in the inside, you showing up as the pretty blonde from the 'nineties Trek episodes."

"She came back for the new one though—"

"That's nice, honey," his sister cut him off, squeezing his arm. He gave her a flat look and her eyes sparkled with teasing mirth. "So Sarah, can I get you a drink? You just get here?"

"Yeah. I did. Um, and sure. Thank you. Can I help with anyth—"

"Oh, so many things. Come with me."

Ellie threaded both of her arms around Sarah's right arm and swept her away towards the bar, leaving Sarah to look at Chuck almost a little pleadingly over her shoulder.

"Nice to see ya, Sarah. Annnnnnnd bye," he mumbled to himself, whistling low.

He was in some real trouble here. He felt relatively certain he was in some really real trouble here.

}o{

"First thing's first. I need you to tell me how you got your boobs to look that great in this catsuit thing you're wearing."

Sarah choked a bit on her gin and tonic, blue eyes going wide as she glanced at the brunette in the weird green sweater turtleneck and frumpy vest dress. "Um. Ahem. Oh."

"Sorry. Did I jump to that too quickly? I'm not staring at your chest like that. It's just impressive and I need tips. I've got this sweater I really love but whenever I wear it, I feel like my boobs end up looking kind of lopsided and it makes me feel nuts."

Laughing lightly, the CIA agent shook her head. "I think I just wasn't expecting it, but I'm not mad!" she ensured the other woman, holding a hand out. "Can I be perfectly honest with you?"

"Yes, please."

"It's all in the bra. You have to spend a fortune on the bra. Make sure it really fits, no gaps or anything."

"Okay, we're talking about this in more detail later. You need to send me to where you get yours."

"It's a deal," she giggled with a nod.

Well, that was one way to break the ice.

Sarah had been half-drowning in a million different ways of thinking as she'd paused on that path into the courtyard where the party was apparently raging, people cheering loudly over the music. She'd nearly turned back, not ready for the step of meeting Chuck's family, afraid her involvement with the CIA would make bringing them into her circle, or entering their circle, extremely dangerous for these lovely people. But she'd already taken the leap with Chuck, and she couldn't…unleap.

She didn't want to.

And then she thought maybe she could hide again, bide her time. But what good would that do? That was foolish.

And then she thought so many other things, and her feet had gotten impatient, and with a mind of their own, they'd carried her right through the open gates and into the courtyard. Immediately, she'd been struck by the fact that there were way more people than a month ago, when it had been Chuck's birthday instead of Halloween. It was way louder, people looked absolutely mad in their costumes, and there was… two people bouncing around under some sort of Chinese dragon costume. Except…dull and brown. That wasn't a Chinese dragon; where were the colors? It didn't matter because the people were screaming for it as the two people inside danced back and forth, kicking their feet out as they did.

She found herself giggling at how whimsical and adorable it was, especially that everyone was so into it. And then she spotted the sneakers of the guy in front—black Converse with white laces, the scuff marks on the toe and on the back heel, the tiny little heart she'd drawn with a Sharpie early one morning while he was in the shower. She'd regretted it immediately, knowing how much he loved his shoes, but she'd been trying to be cute, make him smile. But then when he'd seen it, he'd asked her if she just drew on his shoe with a Sharpie and then he'd cracked up, taken it from her, and scrunched up his face with a, "This is kinda cute, ya know?"

She'd approached Chuck in his weird long creature costume, knowing it could only be Morgan taking up the other half of it. Of course they were the life of the party in this thing. Seemed like the type of Halloween party these people would throw. Full of nerdy shit.

Chuck's face under his mussed curls hadn't disappointed at all, as nervous as she'd been standing there in a costume she'd constructed and ordered based on pictures on the internet. She had no context, didn't really know what he'd think about it. He'd surpassed expectations, though.

It was clear she broke him. And while that hadn't exactly been what she'd expected or wanted, it felt really damn good.

Now she was standing by the drink table with his sister, still swept with unending shyness for some ridiculous reason, and her sister had just said something about her tits, hadn't she? Crap. How did she…continue this conversation?

"Sorry," Ellie rushed out, a kind hand on her arm. "I didn't mean to be so immediately weird. I guess I wanted to try to break the ice and I've been building this moment up in my head for, like, a month. Meeting you, I mean." Had she been? Was Chuck's sister nervous, too? About meeting her? Really? "Chuck's precious. He's precious to me and for the last month, he's been all…floating around everywhere." Sarah felt herself blushing as she ducked her head, sipping more of her drink to give herself something to do. "There's no doubt in my mind you're why. And I've been wanting to meet you. So bad. I didn't think you'd be here. Chuck said you had work stuff."

Sarah bit her lip and nodded. "Yeah, it…was…cancelled. The work stuff."

That felt so idiotic coming out of her mouth.

"Huh." Ellie nodded, and then she grinned. "I'm glad. I'm glad your work stuff got cancelled and that you're here. Not that Chuck's said anything about your job. He hasn't. All he said was that it's government stuff and hush hush. So we don't ask."

"Oh. Yeah, it's rather…hush hush. So I appreciate that. I'm sorry it's taken so long for us to meet. It was mostly because of my work. Um, it's hard to get away."

"Listen, I get it. Working twenty-four to thirty-six hour shifts, the rare forty-eight, I feel like I live at the hospital sometimes." Ellie huffed and rolled her eyes, swirling her beer in its bottle. "I live with my boyfriend and I feel like it's hard to see him and his family still. Like, I swear sometimes all I do is work."

"Chuck told me you're a surgeon. Neurosurgery, right?" Ellie nodded modestly. "That's pretty awesome. I mean, saving lives like that. It's incredible."

"Oh. Eh." The brunette shrugged.

Sarah resisted the urge to roll her eyes the other woman for that. She literally saved lives. She was almost like the opposite of Sarah, who took lives, too many lives to count. Even though their faces still wandered into her nightmares sometimes. She was meeting this woman, the sister of the man she wanted to be with, and they couldn't be more different, their jobs couldn't be more different. How could she expect to form any kind of relationship with Ellie Bartowski when they were such opposites?

"So…So I hope I don't offend you. I guess I don't know…who you are. I mean, the costume." She winced. She needed to get her head out of the mire.

The older woman snorted and waved her hand through the air. "It's kind of niche if you don't watch 'nineties movies or know about horror. Not a Stephen King fan, huh?"

"Oh, is it a Stephen King costume? I know him, I know he wrote a bunch of horror books, but…" She winced again with a shrug.

"I'm Annie Wilkes, from Misery. One of his books that was made into a movie. Don't know it? Kathy Bates?" Sarah shook her head. "Well… This author of a popular book series crashes his car in a snowstorm and is rescued and nursed back to health by one of his fans, but she ends up being this super stalker fan who is wildly obsessed with his books and characters and she's pissed he hasn't finished, and she wants him to finish it a certain way, so she breaks his feet further to keep him there to write what she wants." She reached back behind the drink table and lifted a large mallet, then swung it through the air with a wicked "CRACK!"

"Oh my God!" Sarah laughed nervously. "Is that part of your costume?"

"Of course." Ellie spun the head of the mallet with a little toss and winked.

Sarah Walker found she liked this woman immensely already. More than she'd liked her while listening to her conversations with Chuck, more even than she'd liked her when Chuck talked about their childhood in those quiet moments in her room, sitting across from one another enjoying takeout, or wrapped together in bed in the dark when it was easier for him to dig deeper into the things that hurt him.

It was in those moments that she felt a need to protect him like nothing else in her life.

She wished she had a way to convey that to this woman, who she knew had protected him their whole lives up until this point. Sarah couldn't help wanting to not only reassure Ellie Bartowski that she would keep her brother safe, but she wanted her to like her too.

She ached to be liked by this woman in her strange stalker Halloween costume.

Sarah took another drink from her glass of gin.

But before either of them could continue the conversation, Ellie glanced over Sarah's shoulder and her eyes went wider than saucers. "Oh. Sarah. Brace yourself. It's about to get weird. Even weirder than me and my boobs question," she hissed urgently.

Furrowing her brow, she turned to see a handsome, tall—Oh, that was Captain Awesome, wasn't it?

But his skin was painted a haunted blue, menacing lines drawn on his face. His hair caked with ice-looking white stuff. He had a large axe tucked in his belt, a plaid shirt on under a red button-up jacket as well, both of those caked in the same ice-stuff. "Oh there you are, babe! I'm going to kill Lester because he crushed some of my rhododendrons but you're the hostess with the mostest so I wanted to just run it by you first."

"Sure, sweetie."

"Cool. Thanks. You're the best." He pointed at his girlfriend, but before he could turn around and head off to murder the person who crushed his flowers, he froze, catching sight of Sarah. Uh oh.

"Oh hey! Welcome to Casa de Bartowski Woodcomb! I'm Devon."

She beamed at him as he reached out towards her, his handsome features immediately friendly even with the crazy makeup. And she took his hand eagerly, shaking it. "I'm Sarah."

"Oh! Cool. Nice to—" It seemed to dawn on him then. Her name was perhaps a trigger in his brain.

Just how much had Chuck talked about her to his family, she couldn't help wondering?

"Yep!" Ellie chirped at her shoulder. "That Sarah."

"Holy fucking shit. No way! No! Way!" Devon clamped his other hand on Sarah's shoulder. "That Sarah?! Like-Like Chuck's Sarah?"

Chuck's Sarah?

So she was Chuck's Sarah now. Did that make him Sarah's Chuck?

She nodded with a shy shrug.

"Oh ho ho ho ho. Oh ho ho! Oh hoooooo!" He stepped back, putting his hands on his head, his "frozen" hair practically crunching under his fingers. "Wow, okay. Okay, Chuck!" He slow clapped then.

And Sarah Walker found she was significantly uncomfortable.

Ellie slid her hand into hers comfortingly. "I'm very sorry," she said near her ear. "This is who he is. But he has plenty of strengths too. Trust me."

Sarah laughed at that, squeezing the brunette's hand back. "It's nice to finally meet you, Devon."

"Even nicer to meet you, Sarah!" He grabbed her by both shoulders, then moved in to hug her. The faux ice on his clothes crunched in their hug too. And he pulled back. "We have a lot to talk about, but first, where's Chuck? I need Chuck."

He spun, spotted him, and made a beeline.

"Uh oh," she heard Ellie breathe.

Sarah watched with a wince as Devon closed the distance to where Chuck was talking to one of the other guests across the courtyard near the barbecue. He had absolutely no warning before his sister's boyfriend practically tackled him from behind. Gathering Chuck up in a bear hug, he lifted him off the ground as the younger man let out a yelp.

Devon even shook him a few times.

"We could go over and try to rescue him, but it's too late for that. It's much too late," Ellie bemoaned, making Sarah laugh again.

And when Chuck was finally dropped back to his feet, Devon let him turn to face him, saying something Sarah couldn't hear over the music. Chuck's gaze drifted to hers and she felt herself smiling at him automatically, lifting her hand in a bit of a wave. He grinned back at her, blushing as the slightly taller man thumped him on the shoulder in congratulations.

"Hey…" She turned at the sound of Ellie's voice. "Do you want to come for dinner tomorrow?" Sarah blinked. What? "I'm just skipping over my brother's head completely and asking outright. I'm an incredible cook."

Sarah chuckled and nodded, without thinking too much about it. "Yeah, I'd love that."

"Good," Ellie gushed, and they turned back to watch.

Chuck was so obviously embarrassed, mortified even, and she felt it second-hand.

She'd take the embarrassment though. All of this embarrassment. She was perfectly fine with it. The awkwardness. The tentative shyness.

Because Chuck's sister still hadn't let go of her hand as they laughed together at the two men, and Chuck's brown eyes still hadn't left hers. And coming here, against her better judgment maybe, had been so so worth it. Already. As if seeing him galloping around with his best friend in the sandworm costume hadn't done it.

The night was just beginning and this was so damn worth it.


A/N: I love writing Devon "Captain Awesome" Woodcomb. I love him. I love his character. I love that the writers were going to make him a villain until Ryan McPartlin came into the role with so much warmth and adorable exuberance that they were like "WE CAN'T DO THIS TO HIM HE'S TOO CUTE we're making him a MAIN SUPPORTING GOOD GUY CHARACTER FOREVER"... I just love him so much. I just want to koala hug him forever. I bet he gives hugs that make a person feel so freaking safe.

Anyway, there's still one more! I'll be back soon. Please review, thank you!

-SC