A/N: Decided to crank it up a notch and get this chapter done early, because Lord knows what 19MAY will hold in store for the Chuck faithful. I figured that we'll stock up on pleasant surprises now in case Tuesday is not so pleasant. (Though TV Guide's website gave me a rather motivating kick in the pants to get a LOT of this chapter done last night with their unofficial announcement, so they deserve a big thanks.)
The readers and reviewers from last chapter continue to be awesome (I guilted myself into writing faster by not writing thank yous for last chapter's reviewers, but they're coming soon!), just like the usual disclaimers continue to apply.
-.-.-.-
Day 5: Tuesday
The tranquility of the early morning stood in stark contrast to the chaos of Sarah's thoughts as she lay in bed. She was still trying to regroup from last night, not knowing what to think. The revelation to Ellie and Awesome was supposed to be staged, solidifying their new cover, but it had evolved into a very real evening. Chuck's comment about how relaxed she'd been while watching the movie was the epitome of the realness—she didn't remember ever feeling that relaxed before. Making a pointed decision to ignore what that meant professionally and instead enjoy the rest of the night with her fake-real boyfriend, the comment was harder to ignore in the daylight. Daylight also wasn't helping the lines become any less blurred. The more time she spent around him, no matter how adamantly she told herself to stay on task, the more both of them interacted genuinely…much to her chagrin.
To reinforce her point, Chuck shifted a bit in his sleep, causing her to smile without thinking about it as she continued to play mindlessly with his curls. Somehow, they'd shifted in their sleep so that Chuck was currently using her stomach as a pillow. Staying the night provided a perfect example of the various dilemmas associated with their fake-real interactions. For personal self-preservation, she had secretly hoped to find an excuse to avoid sleeping over, but the agent in her knew there was no way around it from a cover perspective—how could she not stay the night after everything she'd revealed without looking suspicious? Ellie and Awesome, in their slightly sloshed state, had even assumed as much, telling Chuck and Sarah that they'd cook breakfast in the morning before work. Luckily for her, once she had returned to his room from showering (extra-cold again to clear her head), Chuck had unintentionally fallen sound asleep, saving them from having to concoct either a really good excuse or a really good performance—again, after the sort of announcement she'd made and Chuck's reaction to it, going straight to bed would look suspicious. Thinking about anything remotely in the ballpark of the horizontal mambo (as Casey would put it) made her shudder. God, there's yet another thing we're going to have to deal with eventually. How does one "deal" with sex?
She threw her head back against the pillow and took a few deep breaths. Damn it. There's just so much to deal with at once. About to give herself the normal get-your-head-in-the-game, one-thing-at-a-time pep-talk, movement outside Chuck's window caught her eye. A silhouette was clearly visible on the window blinds, and the silhouette appeared to be attempting to act stealthy…with little success. It was all she could do to keep from laughing and alerting the person. You've got to be kidding me. Are these people really this horrible at unobtrusive observation? She almost expected a head, clad in a stereotypical ski mask, to pop through the window for a better look and listen.
Chuck's alarm clock going off brought her focus from the lurker outside the room to the other occupant inside of the room. He sat up and smacked the clock faster than she thought possible before settling back down in his previous position and began rubbing his eyes. A moment later, he tensed—Sarah guessed that he had noticed where his previous position was—and was about to say something to preempt him from moving or saying anything too Chuck-esque because of their uninvited guest outside the window. As quickly as he had tensed, though, he slightly relaxed.
Truth be told, Chuck had noticed the person outside of the window mere seconds after he realized what he was using as a pillow and was about to apologize profusely for his unconscious nocturnal shifting. Really, can we not catch a break? I JUST WOKE UP! He forced himself to relax as he reluctantly began playing his NSA-mandated role. Kissing her tanktop-clad stomach lightly, he turned his head so he was looking up at her instead of down toward the window.
"Good morning, beautiful."
Moving toward her with a grin on his face, which spread to her face immediately, she closed her eyes in anticipation of a kiss and was instead rewarded with things becoming darker. Her eyes popped open to find the comforter over their heads and Chuck whispering scant inches away.
"OK, now we can talk. No one hears or sees through an inch of goose-down comforter!"
She was tempted to knee him in the stomach—she was not appreciative of Chuck's non-kiss—and replied in an intense whisper to waylay the urge.
"Do you really think this looks convincing?"
"I don't know, you're the superspy, you tell me. Does this look convincing?"
Without warning, she flipped Chuck over so that he was now pinned to the mattress, with Sarah skillfully hovering a few inches above him everywhere. The comforter miraculously stayed in place.
"This does look a bit more convincing, yes. Flail your legs a bit."
"Am I supposed to be acting like a flopping fish or making out under here, because I feel like we're confusing the two."
"You wanted to talk, Chuck?"
He rolled his eyes while moving his legs around as instructed, paying close attention not to bump into her.
"First, as a reminder—you still work for the CIA."
Great, thanks for that, Chuck. You're making me feel really great about the day ahead. It took her another moment to remember that she'd made him promise the night before to remind her. Overwhelmed by his uncanny ability to be incredibly thoughtful, she was too busy suppressing the unbelievable urge to kiss him to respond.
"Now, want to tell me what was bothering you about last night?"
His gaze was piercing enough as he spoke that she nearly did answer before stopping herself. Nope, not going here right now, especially with me on top of him like this. Nope nope nope nope nope…
"Come on, it's time to get up or else we'll both be late."
Beginning to get up, she was surprised to feel Chuck's arm wrap around her waist and pull her back down, effectively pinning her to him. The small buffer that Sarah had been careful to keep between them was all but eliminated; it was no coincidence that the temperature underneath the comforter suddenly felt like it had increased tenfold.
"Fine, you can listen while I talk, then. Here's what bothers me about last night. We both knew it was fake conversation, and we both ended up acting and feeling like it was real. That same thing keeps happening over and over—it's a cover, we both know it, but it feels so real, and we both act real before we can stop it. That results in us feeling guilty for different reasons. It kind of sucks, and that doesn't even deal fully with our problem with the slips."
Her jaw dropped. He has a way of being articulate at the most inopportune times, damn his adorable self.
"Fine, yes, that's a big part of what was bothering me about last night. It's harder than I thought it would be, alright?"
"It's not going to get any easier unless you actually talk to me, your double fake-real boyfriend, about it."
"I know. But I'm bad at fake-real relationship talks…I still don't know what to even say about it other than I'm suppressing the urge to kiss the living hell of you right now."
His eyes grew to the size of saucers and she took a moment to turn her eyes upward and marvel at her lack of control. She hadn't intended on the last bit slipping out. Goddamn proximity. And people outside of windows. And weddings. He cleared his throat once or twice, bringing her eyes back down to focus on his face, which still had a look of determination on it from when he'd stopped her from moving before.
"Then just kiss me for now to satisfy the guy outside and we'll try to make everything feel less real until we can talk somewhere safe."
That is DEFINITELY not a good idea, and she said as much aloud. His response was typical.
"Again, do you have a better one?"
She didn't, and he took the opportunity to catch her offguard by leaning up to kiss her. Just when they were about to kiss, the quintessential ring of a cell phone startled them. While she was contemplating banning all cell phones, he was the first to make a comment against her still-parted lips.
"I'll have you note that it's your cell phone killing the mood this time, not mine."
Sarah only responded by capturing his lips while rolling them over to her side of the bed, knocking the comforter askew while blindly reaching for her phone on the nightstand. Finally breaking their lung-searing kiss to answer, she let out a small sigh and sat up straighter upon hearing who was on the other end, forcing Chuck to sit up as well. Sensing that the call wasn't going to be a quick one, Chuck shook the stupor out of his head—you're the one that told her to kiss you, moron, and you KNOW that most of our kisses pack that much punch…—before rolling back over to his side of the bed. He got up to get dressed as the phone conversation continued on.
It wasn't until Chuck was tweaking his tie in the mirror that Sarah's conversation ended and he turned to face her. She looked and sounded less than amused, but he couldn't tell if it was because of the timing of the call or the content of the call. …or the fact that there's STILL someone outside my window—he had noticed the lurker hadn't moved while fiddling with his tie in the mirror, and was sure that Sarah noticed it as well. Go go fake conversation following fake…ish make-out session!, he thought.
"Do you have plans for tonight, sweetie, or does Big Mike have you closing the store?"
"Nope, not closing—work until 6. I figured we were doing something after that."
"I figured as much, too, but it's not going to be doi..."
About to say, "doing anything like this," agent mode resurfaced long enough to kill the sentence before it was uttered aloud. She settled for a sigh to punctuate the sentence as she watched Chuck sit down at his computer to examine what progress, if any, his automated programs had made on the virus code. Glancing over his shoulder to where she was still sitting in bed, he patiently waited for an explanation. Eventually, she gave him one.
"That was Abigail. She wants to have us over tonight for a small dinner party so I can 'informally' meet the upper management before I start next week."
Wow, Chuck thought, note to self: never piss off the CIA. They leave you jobless within a week if you quit…assuming they don't kill you when you quit. Sticking his Nerd Herd ID in his pocket as he swiveled back and forth in his chair while scrolling through pages of code, something about her sentence struck him.
"Wait, 'we'? I was explicitly invited?"
Sarah smirked while she got up to root through her overnight bag, perpetually stashed in Chuck's closet.
"Yes, she mentioned you by name...several times. Should I be worried?"
"Only about her if she tries to put any moves on me tonight. You'll probably leave her bound and gagged in a coat closet."
Looking behind her at the man smirking from his computer chair, she pretended to contemplate his assertion before shaking her head.
"Not true. She's my new boss—I'd leave her in an unoccupied room, not a coat closet."
He laughed as he pushed off from his desk, sending his chair wheeling across the room toward his closet, where he surprised her by pulling her down into his lap. Steadily rolling back over toward the desk, the click of the wheels on the hardwood floor masked what he was whispering in her ear as he tipped his head toward the computer monitor.
"Still nothing. I think this definitely had to be written by a few different people, because the coding style keeps changing around. That matches with the multinational coalition thing. I'm going to start analyzing the virus as separate pieces to see if that gets us anywhere."
Making a mental note to pass on Chuck's news to Beckman, he spoke in a normal tone while he finished up on the computer.
"Hey, you mind if I run over to your place to grab my phone before I go to work?"
Where the hell did THAT come from? With the look she gave him, it was as if he had asked her for a letter of recommendation to work for the CIA. He hastened to give his rationale.
"What? Your shift starts before mine, and you're not going to have time to drive me across town to your place and make it to work on time. I promise not to read the super-secret government employees' handbook under your pillow. I just want my phone before my girlfriend accuses me of not returning her calls again, and since she can kick my ass, I think my concern is valid."
Biting her lip through her smile, she thought about it. Him being alone in her apartment did make her a little uncomfortable. He does have a point about driving across town and making it to work on time. And, seeing as I've officially chosen him over my career and that we're supposed to be moving in together…
"That's fine. Your phone's still in the jeans I was wearing Sunday, I think. I'll call the front desk and make them let you in so we won't have to key swap later."
Sarah happened to look down at her watch, with Chuck unintentionally doing the same as he glanced at his computer monitor again. He did a double-take when he saw the time and started babbling.
"Oh crap, you're right—we're going to be late. I'll go see what Ellie cooked for breakfast and toss a plate together for each of us to eat while you finish getting dressed without me, uh, slowing you down."
With a slight eyebrow waggle, Chuck had effortlessly stood them both up, hands lightly on her hips to steady her, and was heading toward the kitchen before she could reply. She walked over to shut the door before changing, and turned back toward the window with a non-forced smile on her face.
The smile did not escape the notice of the non-stealthy lurker.
-.-.-.-
Hesitantly poking his head into her room once he'd opened Sarah's front door a crack, the rest of Chuck's body soon followed as he tiptoed across the room to retrieve his cell phone from the heap of clothing that Sarah described. Turning it on and flipping through his missed calls and texts—he had now missed 17 calls from Morgan—one of the texts gave him pause.
He read it twice to make sure he wasn't seeing things. Breaking out into a small grin, he fished the business card from yesterday out of his pocket and started dialing after making sure to lock the door behind him. The phone conversation was brief, finishing by the time he reached the elevator, but he couldn't help but read the text message one more time before deleting it and making a few more calls.
Congratulations on the new job.
- DB
-.-.-.-
A short phone call before lunch—Chuck had taken the day off, he said, and therefore couldn't run over to the Orange Orange to talk—had firmed up their plans for that evening. They were to meet at Sarah's place before the party at Abigail's, because of its proximity to Abigail's—it was closer—and because conversations within it could not be electronically monitored by anyone. The break from possible audio surveillance would allow them to talk and plan the evening without fear of being overheard. It would be a nice change from their new life-as-normal.
Sarah was slipping into her dress when she heard the distinctive knock at the door and yelled for Chuck to come in. Despite Knox's assurance that this was an "informal" dinner, Sarah knew better. It wasn't a black tie affair, but it was far from a skirt-and-khakis sort of dinner. Accordingly, Sarah had chosen a knee length, navy blue dress that almost looked like a sundress, if the fabric hadn't been a very high-quality satin. Thinking about the implied dress code triggered a thought. I wonder what Chuck wore. She had planned to talk to him about it over lunch before he'd called to say he wouldn't be over, and had forgotten to mention it before they hung up. Hearing the door open and shut, she looked herself over one last time in the mirror before watching for Chuck's reflection in the mirror.
When Chuck entered her line of sight, she did a double take at what she saw: he was in a three-button black suit coat, black pants, a striped dark blue and black shirt, and an impeccably knotted white tie. He was nervously looking down at his shiny shoes while running his hands over his suit coat as he walked further into the room, oblivious to the fact that she was staring at him.
"Hey, is this dressy enough for tonight, or should I go change?"
She couldn't help but continue to stare at him. Change into WHAT, a tux with coattails!
"Oh, uh, no, that's, uh…fine."
Are we teenagers again? Stop drooling and USE COMPLETE SENTENCES! The quick mental slap produced a coherent follow-up as she allowed herself to look him up and down one more time before he noticed her all but devouring him on sight.
"I definitely don't remember that being in your closet this morning."
He was still completely oblivious while he answered, continuing to fidget.
"Yeah, well, I finally looked at how much the NSA paid me for the virus stuff. Let's just say that I decided to finally invest in some good dress clothes so I wou…"
His sentence trailed off as he finally stopped fidgeting with his own clothes and looked up to see Sarah checking over her makeup one last time.
"Wow. You look…great."
He said it in such an awe-filled tone that the best she could muster was a very shy-sounding thank you. When Sarah reached for her earrings, Chuck seemed to remember something.
"Oh, right. Also while I was out dress clothes shopping today, I realized that I've bought you no jewelry at all since we've been 'together,' which probably makes me look as a complete failure as a boyfriend."
A necklace box and earring box materialized from Chuck's pockets and he held them up for Sarah to see in the mirror.
"So, consider these as the beginning of me not failing."
Turning to face him finally, her eyes critically shifted from each box before looking back at his face.
"You know you didn't have to do this."
"To steal a line from you—I know, I wanted to. And you deserve it."
Waving both boxes enticingly, she relented and chose the necklace box first. Opening it revealed a tasteful diamond necklace. Eyes flicking back up to his, she could see the worry in his eyes. He really thinks I might not like this? The corners of her mouth tugged upward as she gave him a peck on the lips before offering him the necklace and turning back to the mirror. Tucking the earring box under his chin to free up both hands, he wrestled with the clasp, and before long he had the necklace open so that he could loop it around her neck. As he successfully latched the clasp, she was looking at the necklace in the mirror, rather incredulous at his general taste when shopping.
"I can't believe you went shopping without female supervision and did this well."
His reflection shrugged as his head peeked over her shoulder, but the relief on his face was evident. Thank God she likes it.
"I'm not a completely incompetent shopper. And who said I didn't have female supervision?"
Her eyes had narrowed and were in the process of boring holes through his.
"Totally kidding. I shopped alone—Ellie was on call today, and you had to work, too."
With her eyes no longer boring holes through his head, they continued to look at one another wordlessly. Remembering the box tucked under his chin by seeing it in the mirror, he removed it and handed it to her. Taking a step closer behind her as she opened it, she was stunned to find something other than earrings in the earring box. It was an engagement ring. Her hand flew over her mouth and eyes went wide. HOLY SHIT!
"I suppose if we're being watched, I'd need to formally get down like this."
Her head whipped around toward him as he dropped to one knee, her voice mimicking him by dropping to a whisper. She was trying her best to hold it together—the necklace she could handle. The ring was in a league of its own.
"Why are you doing this now?"
"We're going to a big dinner with the new 'upper management' who've probably heard a lot about the amazing Sarah Walker—I'm assuming that these people are all ex-spies. I bet they'll find it hard to believe that the same Sarah Walker would throw away her career for some guy. Ergo, if you walk in engaged after quitting a day ago, they might be more convinced."
I didn't even think about that angle. Shit. Abigail's skepticism at Orange Orange suddenly made much more sense…as did her sudden acquiescence. I think I may be officially losing it…AND I owe my job to Chuck. Unbelievable. Her voice dropped so low that Chuck had to strain to hear her next question.
"How real is this?"
"As real as you want it to be," he paused while a self-deprecating smile crept out, "but at least I know you've been ordered to say fake-yes, so that makes it a little easier."
"Chuck, you know I can't say real-yes. We talked about this a little this morning, but Beckman's brief to me yesterday made it abundantly clear that she considers this an extension of our current cover. If she were to find out…"
She hadn't told him how Beckman had none-too-subtly explained the new exit strategy if Sarah were to "become" compromised: Sarah's death would be faked without notifying Chuck to "keep their new cover intact," and Sarah would be living on a comfortable government pension completely alone in Samoa until the day she really died. Suffice it to say, her incentive to request reassignment was non-existent.
"How would she be able to tell the difference? We're barely able to, and even that's arguable."
Point to Chuck…damn it. She said as much aloud, trying hard to keep her expressions in line with the joy and exuberance she was supposed to be feeling.
"Damn it, Chuck. You know what my answer would be if things were different."
Sighing, she gave her answer as she pulled him up for the embrace that would have to follow: the moment had to look "real" for anyone possibly spying on them.
"Fake-yes, which you knew. Real-...damn it again—we're still all over the map for this new cover and it worries me more than you know."
The non-answer didn't surprise Chuck, but the allusion to her feelings about their new cover did. That's the closest she's come to talking about any of this. Not wanting to push the issue for now, he fished the ring out of its box and babbled as he slipped it on her ring finger.
"I'm trying to chatter about anything and nothing so this doesn't feel too real. So, if you just want me to shut up, say the word and I'll zi…"
OK, here we go, Walker. You just got FAKE engaged. Quick kiss to seal the deal, and then out the door to the party. Planting her hands on either side of his face, she pulled him in for a kiss, cutting him off in midsentence. The moment was more real than either anticipated, with the one "quick" kiss growing into a much longer one, followed by lighter kisses after. Heading back toward the bed instinctively as Chuck's hands rose to cradle Sarah's face and neck, Chuck's knees hitting the edge of the bed prompted a gasped sentence.
"If this goes much farther, I'm going to mess up your lipstick…again."
"If this goes much farther," she looked over his shoulder at the bed before looking back at him, "we won't make the party…"
And I might just tear all his clothes off. God damn it to hell, what happened to QUICK kiss?
"…so we better get out of here."
He nodded his agreement, and both were walking out the door while giving the other a wide berth before they could reconsider.
-.-.-.-
The car ride over had been tense, but far from silent. Cognizant of the tension, both had stayed on their respective sides of the car while Sarah gave Chuck the general details about her new job, as any good girlfriend would: she was now the VP of Operations and Planning for Fort Knox Security. Aside from the wisecrack about the firm's name, Chuck had few real questions that he could ask in public (I can't believe the interior of a Porsche now qualifies as "in public," he thought), so he'd nodded and asked fake ones about general things, as any good boyfriend would.
Once they'd arrived and had rung the doorbell, they were standing far too close together as they waited Abigail to answer the door. Chuck tugged at his tie before straightening it again for the umpteenth time since they'd rung, Sarah acutely noting his fidgeting and the fact that his hand was hovering near the small of her back, but not quite touching. After being prepared to tackle him only 15 minutes before, the not-quite touching was nearly as distracting as touching would be.
"Would you stop fidgeting with your tie already? You look fine."
He muttered a response without thinking, tugging at his collar—it suddenly seemed far too tight—as he answered.
"Easy for you to say. You're not the one standing next to the most beautiful woman in the world."
She bit the side of her cheek while turning her head enough to catch his eye.
"Not. helping."
The massive set of double doors swung open to reveal Abigail, dressed similarly to Sarah, who ushered them in warmly and was appropriately stunned by their engagement. With Abigail introducing them to the three other vice presidents—all women, Chuck noted—pre-dinner mingling and dinner was as painless as it could be with a roomful of ex-spies; talk about work dominated. Chuck held up fairly well, given that he was out of his element. He stayed uncharacteristically silent for most of the night, commenting where needed, and the few super-nerdy jokes that he did make were perfectly timed and well received.
After dinner, everyone adjourned to the sitting room for drinks, where the other women were slowly starting to talk about families and significant others with one another. Feeling his cell phone vibrate in his suit coat pocket, Chuck pulled it out enough to see he had a text message, sent from his computer to his cell when the computer believed it had found something regarding the virus. He felt Sarah's eyes on him, and spoke loud enough for the others to hear, if they so desired.
"Sorry, it's work. I'll be right back."
Walking into the hallway just outside of the sitting room, Chuck heard one of the others ask Sarah where she had met him. Tempted to listen to her answer to see if it involved cell phones and ballerinas, he forced himself to focus on the reason he'd come out into the hallway in the first place and began scrolling through the text message. Splitting the virus code into parts was working better than he expected, with the computer already isolating different chunks of the overall code that could have been written by different people. Glancing over one particularly inventive piece of code, he felt the familiar onset of a flash, and leaned up against the wall before it hit: a maple tree, the inventive piece of code, the coder's dossier, the seal of the CIA, a maple tree. The coder's dossier was huge, and he had to blink a few times before the haze of the flash lifted.
…oh great, this coder's ex-CIA—Bill Gates meets James Bond? …Bill Bond? He shook his head a few more times to make sure his mind was clear before pocketing his cell phone and walking back into the room in time to hear the Sarah mentioning that Chuck worked with computers for a living. The others were talking amongst themselves once she'd finished.
"Wow, what Chuck does sounds a lot like that one client of ours…what's his name? Quinn, Quigley…?"
"Quentin Reed?"
"Yeah, Quentin Reed. We provide security for his office downtown, and he does a bunch of computer stuff."
The flash hit this time just as Chuck sat back down next to Sarah: a circus tent, Reed's picture, the logo of Reed Associates, a list of contracted projects that Reed Associates had completed for various government agencies, a circus tent. He squeezed his eyes shut tightly as the intel from both flashes uncharacteristically melded together.
Sarah noticed the flash itself, and the other women in the room had noticed Chuck's eyes snapping tightly shut. When Chuck opened his eyes, he found five sets of seasoned ex-spy eyes on him, passively probing. Sarah's hand had found his once he sat back down, and she was squeezing it hard enough to kickstart Chuck's brain again. Think of an excuse FAST!
"I'm sorry, everyone—that message from work was the signing bonus for my new job. It's a little bigger than I'm used to, that's all. I'm still in shock!"
Sarah's own shock was genuine. WHAT new job!
"What new job, Chuck?"
The amusement on everyone else's face except Sarah's was evident. Chuck thought back to when he mentioned it to her before he realized that he never had. Oh crap. I'm so dead.
"The one with Symantec that I meant to mention to you about 10 times and got sidetracked every time. That job."
Symantec. Why does that sound familiar? A beat passed before she could place the name. It was that first brief with Beckman. The general and Chuck were talking about Symantec and some job offer, but we were both so freaked out by the new cover that neither of us brought it up after. Damn emotions! Chuck misinterpreted the reason behind the silence and bumped her arm with his own, putting on his innocent smile, coupled with slightly raised eyebrows.
"Please don't kill me?"
She bumped his arm back while theatrically rolling her eyes and leaned over to give him a kiss on the cheek, the others finding the exchange comical. Obscuring the others' view of Chuck, his whisper was immediate once she had leaned over enough to be within earshot.
"Reed is ex-CIA and is one of the virus' authors."
Her smile still perfectly in place when they pulled apart, the only sign she gave that she'd heard him was the squeeze she gave his hand.