"An evening with Morgan starts at seven sharp, bring your A game."

As sentences that herald beginnings of adventures, that one was not particularly promising. Yet, Morgan was Chuck's best friend and, as he told Sarah, he was looking forward to spending time with Chuck and Sarah. And, given the way supersecret spy things had taken over his life lately, Chuck could definitely use some easy fun with his best friend and his only-real-in-public girlfriend/one half of his CIA handlers.

"For an evening with Morgan," Sarah could not have sounded less enthusiastic if she tried. And that was a good thing. It meant she was still on board with the whole being real about some things - very small, mostly unimportant things, but still things - thing.

"I thought being stationed in the Khyber Pass for six months was brutal," Casey cut in, giving them the benefit of his completely unasked for opinion.

Chuck smiled easily up at his grumpiest handler. "If you're so sad about not being included, Casey, you can just say so."

"Dinner with you and Morgan?" Casey hummed in consideration, breath whistling through his teeth. "I'd rather Afghani warlords bleed me from my liver." Casey flashed a hint of a grin and pushed his cart away to do whatever it was he pretended to do around the Buy More when he wasn't lurking around and being scary.

"He's a happy person," Chuck remarked to Sarah, trying not to smile too fondly at the way she drank a soda from the Weinerlicious. "I really appreciate that about him."

"He just lights up every room," Bryce commented, leaning against the Nerd Herd centre with a travel cup of steaming coffee and a tired grin.

"How's the audit going, buddy?" Chuck asked, trying to remember if he'd seen Bryce looking anything less than exhausted (for Bryce Larkin, anyway) in the past few days. Big Mike - undoubtedly spurred on by one of Harry Tang's bids for assistant managerial favour - had lately gone on a rampage to know exactly how profitable each and every one of his employees was. Something that left Bryce having to be the one to actually work out the figures.

"Excellent," Bryce sighed, sarcasm falling off every letter. He turned to Sarah. "Remind me that shooting civilians is frowned on?"

Sarah merely grinned around her straw, patting Bryce sympathetically on the hand.

Chuck, however, dutifully fulfilled the task his friend needed. "It's bad to shoot people, Bryce," he reminded him, trying on his best I'll be very disappointed frown he copied from Ellie. "Even if they deserve it."

Bryce slid a little closer to Chuck, a questioning frown marring his brow. "You aside, buddy, is this place completely staffed with inept morons?"

"Well, there's Morgan and Casey," Chuck loyally supplied.

Bryce's expression did not change.

Chuck grimaced an agreement he would never admit to. "You get used to it."

Bryce sipped aggressively on his coffee. "I used to be one of the best international agents the CIA had," he mourned, Sarah's eyebrows jumping ever so slightly in the way Chuck had learned meant she was hiding laughter. "Now, I'm an accountant. I used to be able to shoot people and blow things up, and now I have to put up with Harry Tang." Chuck felt a sudden pang of sympathy, worsened at the sigh Bryce let out. "I speak Klingon and even I can't decipher some of the things he writes down."

"You could always come to an evening with Morgan," Sarah offered, her laughter plain in her voice. "That might cheer you up."

"I already spend more evenings than I ever cared to with Morgan," Bryce informed her, his voice taking on the perfectly calm, perfectly clear tone it did when he was restraining his real emotions. "No. Tonight, while you are out enjoying Chinese food and the dubious pleasures of Morgan's company - no offense meant, of course, Chuck - I'll be treating myself to Italian for one (which is only pathetic if you let it be) and obliterating Casey's high scores at the range."

No. The last time Bryce had done that - just after being let back into active duty - Casey had spoken in monosyllables, glares and grunts for three days. It would be just Chuck's luck to flash on a big case and have to deal with Major Monosyllabic just because his other best friend was having a bad day.

"Come to dinner with us," Chuck asked, almost certain Bryce would gently but definitely brush him off. "It might be good for you and Morgan to bond on Morgan's terms. And, Casey won't sulk."

Bryce didn't look convinced. In fact, Chuck might almost think that upsetting Casey was exactly what Bryce was going for with his evening. So, he turned pleading eyes on Sarah.

Come on, his gaze said. Help me out here.

"Bryce," Sarah said, fixing him with her severest gaze. "You got us assigned here. If I have to spend an evening with Morgan. So do you." Then, she smiled so sweetly and softly that Chuck knew any man would have to be blind not to immediately want to fall to his knees and give her everything she wanted. "Morgan? Bryce is having a bad day and I know he could really benefit from coming with us tonight. You don't object, do you?"

Chuck wasn't sure if it was Sarah's smile or Bryce's immediate glare of don't you dare agree or I will make you pay Chuck's best friend or not, but Morgan grinned and flashed his thumbs up, smirking at Bryce as he walked back to deal with a customer.

"Larkin!" Big Mike's voice boomed across the store. "How are my figures coming?"

Chuck saw Bryce's eyes roll towards the ceiling. "Don't choke him with that pretzel. Don't choke him with that pretzel." Bryce smiled innocently and strolled across the floor, right fist clenching minutely at his side.

"I think Bryce needs a holiday," Chuck observed, Sarah snorting a little as her pigtails bounced.

"He needs to blown off some steam is all," Sarah replied, laughter still shining in her eyes. "I'm not sure if you've noticed or not, but we're all kind of adrenaline junkies who default to beating the crap out of something when we're annoyed."

Chuck's eyes widenened in perfectly faked astonishment. "No," he said, stunned. "Surely you jest."

Sarah laughed again, a bright sound Chuck immediately slated into his top three laughs ever. "I'll see you tonight, Chuck. Seven o'clock, sharp."

.

.

Seven o'clock sharp found them dressed casually and as warmly as a Californian evening ever required, walking through Chinatown while Morgan laid out his plan for the night. The first part was dinner, feasting upon sizzling shrimp.

"Sounds like quite a night," Sarah smiled, Morgan practically vibrating with excitement between her and Chuck.

"Dinner will be followed by a screening over at Chuck's," Morgan decreed, Sarah watching him with what Chuck thought was fondness. "The greatest Kung Fu movie ever made."

"Enter the Dragon," Chuck said in unison with Morgan. Then, as Morgan turned to face him and made a martial arts move, Chuck continued. "Prepare to die my bearded friend." Then, because they were just that cool, they began to hit each other's hands and say things along the lines of 'bring it on'.

"You two are so cool," Bryce muttered, still a little sulky about being dragged along.

Chuck grinned, knowing Bryce really didn't have a leg to stand on in the nerdiness stakes. The dude might have access to guns and kick-ass Kung Fu moves, but he learned Klingon. Willingly.

The minor hiccup was averted as Morgan and Bryce began to commiserate with each other over Chuck's - perfectly reasonable - insistence that they not buy fireworks. He liked his limbs. He was very attached to all of them. Morgan thought he was a buzzkill and Bryce laughingly teased him for being a party pooper and uttered the never again to be mentioned reminder of New Year's freshman year. Which, coincidentally had something to do with Chuck's whole aversion to fireworks.

Chuck, happy to indulge in both his victory and the rare sight of Bryce and Morgan both willingly behaving around the other, didn't even quibble as Morgan led them through the kitchen door of the Bamboo Palace. In fact, with the promise of sizzling shrimp and a nice movie night with his family, Chuck felt that finally the terrible week was beginning to look up.

Right until Chuck flashed on a waitress's tattoo and identified her as Mei-Ling Cho, a Chinese Intelligence operative who had never before set foot on US soil. Which, pretty understandably, put a bit of a crimp in the whole evening.

.

.

Bryce and Sarah, after both asking Chuck if he was absolutely sure he'd flashed on what he thought he had, dragged him over to Casey's apartment. There, Casey was in a fine mood. He slammed a series of files into Chuck's stomach, knocking the wind clean from him, and demanding to be notified immediately if Chuck flashed on anything. Which Chuck would have done anyway, but he thought it was a little rude to demand it of him like they hadn't been working together for a long while now.

Clearly oblivious to Chuck's lack of breath, Casey turned to Sarah. "Call the Director, tell him we've got a Priority Code Orange."

Chuck had been in the spy game long enough now to know when things were serious and important. He judged it by the severity of the flash and how syllabic Casey was, the tension Sarah held herself with, and how utterly calm Bryce appeared. But, even with all his criteria for a serious situation met, Chuck felt he had to ask one thing.

"Is there any way this can wait until morning?" He knew better than to get his hopes up, but still. "I kind of have a Priority Code Ellie and Morgan-"

Casey stood up and loomed into Chuck's personal space. "China's top spy is in Los Angeles. We don't know why she's here or what she's planning to do. You, my friend, might be the only one who can figure that out." He slammed a hand into the files, re-knocking the wind out of Chuck. "That's your priority."

"Come on, buddy," Bryce took the files, a tight smile on his lips. "Let's go next door. I'll help you go through the files. I'll order pizza. And I've got the best coffee."

It was true. Bryce did have the best coffee. And Chuck had a feeling he would be needing that excellent coffee just to keep his eyes open and going through the files.

.

.

Chuck's first ever stakeout did not go entirely according to plan. For a start, it was just him, Sarah and Casey, with Bryce stuck back at the apartment in an apparently top secret conference with Director Graham and General Beckman. Then, Casey got all grumpy because Chuck ordered in some sizzling shrimp to the car. And then, well, they trailed Mei-Ling and the guy who Casey said owned half of Chinatown to a building where Chuck flashed on a possible assassination attempt. And then Chuck got to sit alone in the car while his handlers did spy things without him. At least he got to help wheelchair guy escape. And he was feeling pretty good about that for about five whole seconds until a couple of men carried a bound and gagged man into the trunk of Wheelchair Guy's limo and then drove off while Mei-Ling shot at them.

And then casually dropped a bombshell about the old guy being Triad and that bound guy being her brother. Which meant that Chuck, instead of helping like he thought he was, totally and completely blew it.

.

.

After a long and sleepless night, tossing and turning and trying to work out how he could have been wrong about his intel, Chuck convinced himself that it was going to be okay. Casey and Sarah didn't seem to hold it against him, and they were professionals; they would find a way to make this right. And Bryce too, when he was brought up to speed, Chuck knew his handlers would help him make this right. It was what they did.

Even learning Mei-Ling was here rogue, well that didn't change anything. Except, apparently it did. Casey told him not to worry about someone even the Chinese didn't care about and Sarah reassured him it wasn't his fault. She said that Mei-Ling chose to go rogue and that eventually he had to learn that they couldn't save everyone. But all Chuck could think about was if it was Ellie and what he would do. What he would want the people close to him to be able to do.

"I'll drive by myself today," Chuck said, staring stonily until Sarah and Casey had both driven off towards the Buy More and Wienerlicious. Then, despite the dire warnings of what would happen to all his saved game files if he so much dared to breathe heavily near Bryce's apartment on his day off, Chuck rapped his knuckles on the wood so hard they stung. And then he slammed his fist against it several times for emphasis.

Muffled curses sounded behind the door, Chuck picking up on the words 'gun' and 'shoot'. Chuck barely had time to preemptively pull on an apologetic smile before the door was wrenched open.

"What?!" Bryce Larkin, clad in just a pair of boxer shorts and a murderous glare, was before him and Chuck forgot all the reasons why he thought this was a good idea.

It wasn't the bags under his eyes that even a spy couldn't hide first thing in the morning, and it wasn't just the air of vaguely homicidal promise that felt quietly like Stanford (even then, Bryce had not been a morning person), and it wasn't his first sight of the still nasty looking scar barely an inch from Bryce's heart. It was all of that, and the fact that Chuck couldn't bear to be disappointed by another person he trusted to have his back.

Bryce, apparently not armed despite his threats, grabbed Chuck by the wrist and tugged him inside, slamming the door shut behind him. Wordlessly, he pointed Chuck towards the kitchen, where Chuck had the common sense to start the coffee, and turned back to see Bryce pulling an old Stanford tee over his already hopelessly tousled hair. Armed with coffee and some french pastries Chuck couldn't pronounce, they adjourned to Bryce's couch - all without saying a word.

After Bryce had taken a couple of long swallows of his too-hot coffee, and the light in his eyes had changed from you woke me, you must die to grudgingly alert, the concerned side of his friend came out. "What's wrong?"

In front of anyone else Chuck might have at least considered playing it cool. But, this was Bryce, and he'd literally just woken him knowing how little sleep he'd gotten this past week. So...

"Ellie's annoyed at me because I'm not spending enough time with her. Morgan's coming last in the sales competition at the Buy More, which means he's going to lose his job, and I couldn't help him practice his technique because I was too busy on a stakeout for Mei-Lin that I totally blew because she wasn't trying to kill the old guy in the wheelchair who's apparently a Chinese mafia boss, and all she was trying to do was rescue her brother. And Casey says that there's nothing we can do and Sarah says she chose to disobey her government and go rogue and that we can't save everyone. And I really was counting on them because it's wrong Bryce, it just is. No matter if she went rogue or not, that's her brother and they threw him in the trunk right in front of me. And all I can think about is what if it was Ellie or it was Morgan or you. And we can't turn our backs on her, Bryce. We just can't. And I know I shouldn't have woken you, but you're the only person who I know always does what's right."

Bryce was quiet for a long moment, toying with a tiny piece of pastry he'd pulled off. "The Chinese government won't help?"

Chuck shook his head, eyeing the final pastry speculatively. "No, and Casey says we're not risking an international incident just to help someone the Chinese can't be bothered about."

"And Sarah thinks that she went rogue and deserves whatever happens?" Bryce checked, anger beginning to flare again in his eyes.

"Pretty much."

"Right," Bryce nodded, swallowing the last mouthful of his coffee. "Right." The CIA agent pushed the pastries towards Chuck with a look that said to eat them or he'd be force fed them, then stood up and strode back into his bedroom.

Chuck heard him muttering to himself in various languages Chuck couldn't even place, his voice rising and falling through curses of all kinds. Glancing at the unpronounceable pastry, Chuck shrugged and ate his second breakfast of the day.

"Here's what we're going to do," Bryce announced, strifing out of his bedroom now fully dressed and undoubtedly hiding more weaponry than any sane person ever needed. "We're going to go help Mei-Ling save her brother, then we're going to find out some way of making Morgan the least incompetent sales person of all the green shirted idiots. And then, if we're really lucky, we'll get you home in time to celebrate Mother's Day with Ellie."

Chuck awkwardly swallowed the mouthful of pastry, washing it down with the dregs of his lukewarm coffee. "You remembered?"

Bryce merely shot him a smile and picked up his keys. "Come on, Chuck. Busy day."