A/N: Apparently toning this down is frowned upon, and the last thing I want to do is make you frown, so let's turn it upside down with Ch 7. (God, that was horrible)
Disclaimer: I don't own Chuck
Chuck and Casey found themselves in an office. Casey sat on one side of the single desk, Chuck standing in the corner, his arms crossed, leaning against the wall.
"You can't believe those two killed someone," Chuck said to Casey. Casey just grunted. "I get it, you're putting on a show, with the country-cop act. But you suspect something, and it's not Jack, or these two."
Casey turned to Chuck, and studied him for a moment. "Those two idiots don't have a brain cell between them," Casey grumbled. "I'm trying to figure out a way to get them to stay here for a week."
"Why?" Chuck asked, intrigued.
"Someone planned this murder well, but I am confident it will fall apart if everyone is forced to stay here for a week," Casey replied.
"I see," Chuck said, nodding. "And me?"
Casey was silent for a moment. "You and Walker are the only two that seem to speak normal English, and have some damn common sense about you."
"Well, when you work for a place called CIA…" Chuck trailed off, spreading his hands.
"Who the hell does that?" Casey asked. "I know, I know… these two morons."
"You want them to get everyone to stay all week?" Chuck asked. Casey nodded. "I can do it, but you do have a problem: Where are you and Rizzo gonna sleep?"
"I'm getting Manoosh's roommate, some gnome named Grimes," Casey began. Chuck was forced to control his face and not laugh out loud. "And Rizzo is bunking with some girl that works here on the weekends."
Chuck's eyebrows narrowed. "Huh," Chuck muttered. "Lester said there was a big mix up, and there were supposedly no empty spots."
"It seems this room is held just for her," Casey said with a shrug. "Apparently, she helps bring in big business, like this conference."
"Interesting," Chuck replied. "So, do you want my help?"
"If I need it," Casey said. The door opened, and Jeff and Lester walked in. Casey pointed toward the two seats in front of him, and began to work.
}o{
Thirty minutes later, Casey's face was red with frustration, and Chuck wondered if Casey would kill Jeff, Lester, or both. "How the hell do you two even own this company?"
"We're big in Germany," Jeff replied.
"That's our band," Lester reminded Jeff. "We are good at what we do," Lester told Casey. "Ask Charles here, if you don't believe me." It appeared to occur to him that Chuck was in the room, and he didn't know why. "Why is he here?"
Casey turned to Chuck. "Because I speak the language," Chuck told Lester, who nodded. "And, I told Casey how you were going to pay everyone their salary to be here this week, continue the retreat, and pay for the hotel rooms."
Lester's eyes went wide. "W-w-wait-wait a minute," Lester began.
"Because it would be cheaper than the hit to the credibility and stock of CIA, should you and Jeff be arrested," Chuck continued.
"It would give me street cred," Jeff countered.
"Casey," Chuck began. "Are you still planning on separating the two, when you put them in jail?" Casey turned to Chuck. "Didn't you say that you would put Jeff in the drunk tank, and Lester in the cell in the very back of the prison, with Tiny?" Chuck glanced at Lester. "I'm told Tiny is very ironically named." Lester swallowed.
"He's been in that cell by himself for a year," Casey said shaking his head. "His conjugal visits keep getting canceled."
"Can they use the same credit card, or do they need another one?" Lester asked quickly.
}o{
"I need your help," Chuck said softly to Sarah, as he walked by.
"In our room?" she asked hopefully. Rizzo's eyes went wide. He had found them downstairs, in the dining room.
"No, that's later," Chuck told her. Sarah smirked, stood, and followed him. "She had a lot of notes," Chuck said, as they headed toward the kitchen. "What do you know about what's going on that I don't?"
"Oh, those notes weren't about the case," Sarah told him, as she reached out to steady him. He didn't trip, but a grin crossed his face.
"Hi," Chuck said, coming up to the cook. "I wanted to teach my girlfriend how I make a cake, and they told me to ask you."
"You want to make a cake, here?" the cook asked.
"Yeah, if that's okay," Chuck replied. "Listen, I won't screw up your salt or butter, but if I do, you can have those detectives arrest me for a salt and buttery."
"Get out," Sarah told him.
"It's not your kitchen," Chuck retorted, grinning at her. The cook was trying not to laugh.
"I swear I won't let him tell anymore jokes, but please?" Sarah asked the cook.
"Sure," he said. Chuck went to work, Sarah watching him, wondering what he was up to. As time went by, and Chuck was explaining, he kept engaging the cook, double checking with him that what he was doing was right. Soon, Chuck Bartowski was connecting with someone.
"And then they hire this new waitress about six weeks ago, and she starts booking this huge conference," the cook explained. "For the first few weeks, she looked really run down, and come to find out, she had been working another job while working this one."
"Really?" Chuck replied. "Gotta appreciate someone working hard like that."
"Yeah, plus she had a secret boyfriend," the cook continued. "Apparently he was just too much, because they broke up."
"Huh," Chuck continued. "How does this look?" he asked. The cook came over and looked at the batter.
"Perfect," the cook said.
Chuck dipped his finger in and tasted it. "Mmm," he hummed. He put his finger back in, and smeared some on Sarah's nose.
"Oh look, you're now a battered woman."
"I swear I don't know what I see in you," Sarah told him.
"It's the chicken legs, isn't it?"
"It is not," Sarah told him.
"Okay, you two, get out of here. I'll put this in the oven, and I'll have Amy bring it out to you," the cook said.
"Amy?" Chuck asked.
"Yeah, that's the new waitress' name," the cook told them.
"Thank you so much," Chuck told the cook, and the two took off.
"What was that about?" Sarah asked.
"Well," Chuck said, scrolling through the CIA website, and coming to the former HR manager's picture. She was a brunette with glasses. "That's Nancy." The two sat down, and Sarah took the phone from him and looked at her picture.
"Okay, I don't get it," Sarah admitted, handing the phone back to him.
"Why is this on my contacts?" Chuck asked.
"I was just seeing how you had me listed in your phone," Sarah replied. "Snorty McPerfect Legs?" She grinned at him.
"Tell me what's wrong with it," Chuck replied. "Or did you want me to add Chuck'sin front of it?"
"Wow, not even playing it cool a little," Sarah replied. "We're gonna table this and so come back to it, but I feel this murder might take precedent."
"I mean, he's dead, and you're right here," Chuck began. She twisted her lips, and shook her head. "Fine, don't look, but that waitress over there, the blond. The one that has the name tag that says Amy. Remind you of anyone?"
Chuck watched in amazement, as Sarah rolled her neck, stretched and turned back to him. "Put your tongue back in your mouth."
"That's not what you said last night," Chuck reminded her.
"We're about to go back upstairs," she told him.
"That's not the threat you think it is," Chuck replied.
"So, you think Nancy is Amy?" Sarah asked, trying to get them both back on track, though her heart really wasn't in it.
"As sure I know you wish I'd take you back upstairs," Chuck told her.
"Damn, that's confident," Sarah replied. Chuck started laughing, and Sarah shrugged. "It's true." She was silent a minute. "Doesn't mean anything."
"It does not," Chuck agreed. "You've wanted me to take you upstairs since we got here."
"You wanted to take me upstairs since we got here," Sarah reminded him.
He was silent and had a far off look on his face, as he nodded. "I did… I do."
"Should we go upstairs?" Sarah asked.
"We should probably help Casey solve this case," Chuck replied. Chuck stood, and held out his hand. "Tell me the truth: Did you get Lester to screw up the rooms on purpose?"
"I did not," Sarah replied. "Did you?"
"God, no, I'm not that smooth," Chuck told her. She stood, smiled, and looked him right in the eye.
"Oh, I disagree. Come on, chicken-legs."
A/N: We have a mystery… somewhere… I think. Come back next time for more bad jokes.
What? You're still here? You want a sneak peak? I mean….you guys…..finnnnnneeee
"Damn," she muttered. "You're good."
"You should know," Chuck replied, making her grin.
"Are you talking about what I think you're talking about?" Jeff asked. Chuck shook his head at Sarah before she could answer. She lifted an eyebrow but said nothing.
"And just what do you think I'm talking about?" Chuck asked.
"Cooking pizza rolls," Jeff replied. "There's a certain mystery to them."
Cause, yeah, that's the mystery we're trying to solve…pizza rolls….Pms, reviews, yada yada.
