A/N: I'm having a hard time between my anxiety and my Asperger's and what's going on in the world, so I needed something that required little thinking, and was funny. I think the biggest question is, Who is writing this? God help us all.

Disclaimer: I don't own Chuck.

"Ooo, will you look at these?" Sarah said, jerking on Chuck's jacket.

"Sarah, we're here for a mission, can you please stay on task?" Chuck begged. The salesman looked at them, and Chuck motioned for him to continue.

The man kept talking to Chuck, when Sarah found one she really liked. "CHUCK! This would go perfect with my clutch."

"Sarah, you have two at home just like it!" Chuck replied, exasperated, trying to interrogate the shop owner. "You have enough. You have more than enough."

"Hmmph," she grunted. "It's times like these why I question I married you." He turned and gave her a flat look. "Finnnnne, I'll quit." She turned toward the shop owner, and pulled out a knife. "I'm cranky now, my husband won't let me have a new gun, and I really have my eye set on that one," she said, pointing to the one she had been coveting. She heard Chuck clear his throat. "Right, sorry. Will you please tell me what he wants to know, because we're going out to dinner, and my husband really hates it when I get blood on my dress."

"It really bothers the other customers, when she has blood all over her dress," Chuck clarified with a shrug.

"That upsets my husband, and I hate it when he gets upset," Sarah said, waving the knife. The pawnshop owner gulped.

}o{

Chuck shut the door, rolling his eyes. "Thank you, Chuck," she said, a smile on her face, looking at her new gun.

"I figured as quickly as you got the intel, the least I could do was buy you a new gun," Chuck replied with a shrug. They watched a car drive by, and Sarah's eyes narrowed. "Ohhh, please tell me that's not…"

"Dieeeeeggggggooooo," she growled. She turned to Chuck, an evil smile on her face. "Want to see what kind of trouble we can get into?"

"Oh, God, we're gonna to die, aren't we?" Chuck asked, starting the car, and beginning to tail the passing car.

"It's a Tuesday, I know how to restrain myself," Sarah protested.

"You and I both know you don't," Chuck said, shaking his head.

"Meh… you're right," she said with a shrug.

}o{

Chuck handed the binoculars to Sarah. "Whole lot of bad guys in that compound," Chuck said. "Do you think you could take a couple of them out… you know, hit them with your knife?"

She handed the binoculars back to Chuck. "I believe the technical term is stab." She sighed. "I was told not to kill Diego, which makes me very stressed."

"What would de-stress you?" Chuck asked.

"If I went in there and killed those bad guys," Sarah replied with a shrug.

He looked into the binoculars. "I think that would be-" he put the binoculars down and looked over at the empty seat beside him. "Annnnd, you're gone."

}o{

"Are you mad?" Sarah asked, sometime later. A bullet hit the wall across from them.

"I've been happier," Chuck replied.

"One a scale of one to ten?"

"High thirties," Chuck replied, returning fire. "I mean you burst in here…"

"I didn't burst, it was more sneaky than that," she said, throwing a knife and hitting her intended target in the eye, dropping him.

"Burst in here," Chuck continued, "outnumbered twenty to one."

"More like forty to one," Sarah replied, throwing a nearby wrench, clocking another tango in the head. "I've killed at least twenty."

"Outnumbered forty to one, all to stab a man you've been told you can't kill right now."

"He called me a bad name," Sarah shrugged.

Chuck looked over at her. "What did he call you?"

"A crazy bitch," Sarah said.

"Oh, hell no," Chuck said, standing and picking off four bad guys in seconds. "No one calls you that!"

"I love it when you get all protector-y about me," Sarah said, grinning.

"I am way too sober for this," Chuck muttered.

}o{

"I don't think we're making dinner," Sarah said, clearing the room.

"That's okay, I know you weren't crazy about going out," Chuck replied, clearing his own room.

"I mean, I love going out with you, but people are always saying things about me. They act like I'm evil." There was a slight pout on her lips, and Chuck couldn't help but smile at her.

"You are not as evil as people make you out to be."

"Awww, you're so sweet. Thank you."

"You're welcome, baby," Chuck replied.

"You do mean I'm worse, right? Because I am." Chuck just shrugged and walked to the next room. "CHUCK! I AM EVIL!"

}o{

"Babe, I think Diego's gone," Chuck said, walking towards her. He pulled his gun to shoot one of the bad guys that was trying to get up. She shot the bad guy before he could.

"Screw it, let's blow the place up," Sarah groused.

"We've talked about this," Chuck began.

"What if I burn it to the ground?" she suggested.

"Sarah, it's mostly made of stone," Chuck protested.

"But trying will really make me feel better," Sarah pouted.

}o{

"Agents," Graham said. "Do you happen to know anything about a stone building in LA being burnt, along with 38 of some of the worst members of Diego's gang?"

"Apparently there were only 39 members were in there," Sarah said to Chuck. Chuck just blinked while facing the screen.

"I see," Graham said, sighing. "Sarah, we talked about Diego."

"I didn't kill him!" she protested.

"Not because you didn't try," Chuck countered. Sarah glared at him.

Graham chuckled, and cut the feed.

"Want ice cream?" Sarah asked, grinning, and headed to the kitchen.

"She's scarily adorable and psychotic," Chuck muttered.

"I heard that, and I am," she yelled from the kitchen.

A/N: I hope you enjoyed it.