Chuck knew that Bryce had a lot of experience in the whole being a scary superspy thing, but he didn't quite know why Bryce had driven them here of all places. "This is the Buy More."
"Well observed, Chuck," Bryce smirked, getting out of the car in one of those annoyingly graceful moves Chuck could never hope of replicating. Bryce ducked down to peer through the window. "Come on, sunshine, time's wasting."
Grudgingly, Chuck clambered out of the car, feeling about as graceful as Bambi on ice. "What are we doing here?"
Bryce stopped, leaning against a parked minivan. "First rule of tracking down a rogue agent? Don't. Let them come to you. Preferably in an open, public space with lots of witnesses."
"Like the Buy More."
"Exactly." Bryce flashed a grin that was half innocence and half impish excitement. "Besides, I think I'm going to need a new television soon."
Chuck frowned. He had just been in Bryce's apartment and he was pretty sure that his television was both state-of-the-art and perfectly fine. "What's wrong with your television?"
Bryce displayed another of his impish grins, pushing off the side of the van. "I haven't decided yet."
Well that was all well and good, but... "How are you going to afford a new television? I mean, I know being an accountant you get paid more than me, but-" Chuck trailed off, noticing the soft and exasperated look on Bryce's face. "Let me guess. The CIA pays more than $12 an hour?"
Bryce nodded once. "Considerably more. Especially when you regularly get shot at."
"When you say regularly...?"
A warm hand clasped Chuck on the shoulder. "You don't want to know, Chuck."
Somehow, Chuck had a feeling that would be his answer.
.
"You know, buddy," Chuck began, walking through the doors of the Buy More. "You spend way too many of your days off here."
Bryce's eyes twinkled. "When I'm here as a potential customer, everyone has to be nice to me. This little vein on Casey's forehead starts throbbing." He grinned nostalgically. "It's the little things, Chuck." His friend nodded towards a woebegone Morgan. "Speaking of, let's go get me a new TV."
As if that was some sort of bizarre call to arms, two of the Buy More green shirts (Marvin and Riley) snapped to attention and all but sprinted towards Bryce. The CIA agent looked momentarily nonplussed, then seemed to chalk it up to the Buy More weirdness.
"Sorry, guys," Chuck said, stepping between the green shirts and their potential sale with a regretful smile. "He called ahead. Morgan's waiting."
"Morgan doesn't even like him," Riley muttered, glowering towards Chuck's oblivious best friend.
"And the feeling is mutual," Bryce replied wholeheartedly. "But, I happen to be very fond of Chuck. So," the CIA agent shrugged in a what can you do? manner.
"Morgan!" Chuck called, deciding to put an end to this before Tang tried to muscle in on the sale too. "Customer!"
Morgan sullenly walked over to them, peering around in confusion. "I don't see any customers, man. I just see the Accountant."
Bryce crossed his arms, Chuck not needing to look to know he'd be grinning like Casey was cuffed to another headboard in his underwear.
"Bryce is the customer."
Morgan honestly looked as though his day could not possibly get any worse. "Oh come on, man."
"Be nice, Morgan," Bryce grinned, rocking on his heels a little. "I'm a customer."
Looking like it physically pained him, Morgan pasted on his customer service smile, saying through gritted teeth. "Good morning, sir. How can I help you today?"
"My television had an accident, I need a new one."
Morgan looked between Chuck and Bryce, silently asking if Chuck had put him up to this. Chuck shook his head slightly (well aware that Bryce was a part of this nonverbal conversation). Grudgingly, Morgan nodded and turned fully to Bryce. "You thinking plasma or LCD?"
"LCD," Bryce replied immediately. "Gaming."
"Yeah," Morgan nodded in commiseration. "Plasma retention issues are a bummer."
Chuck was relieved his best friends were getting along for a change, and he thought maybe he could slip off to the Nerd Herd desk without it degenerating into chaos. Unfortunately, both Morgan and Bryce dragged Chuck into the conversation, so it strangely felt more like Bryce and Chuck were buying the tv than just Bryce doing so. Still, a sale was a sale, and even Chuck had to admit that he couldn't wait to get the new television installed in Bryce's apartment.
Quite why Chuck of all people was going to do the installation, he didn't know, but it seemed to be widely understood that he was.
Morgan rang up the sale, bouncing a little at the surprised looks Jeff and Lester were - for some reason - giving him.
"That puts you about level with Harry Tang," Bryce announced, sending a smug smile over at his least favourite Buy More employee. "Don't mess this up, Morgan."
"Thanks, Accountant," Morgan said, nodding with something like grudging respect. Bryce inclined his head back, watching Morgan disappear into the back to finally mark a sale on the graph.
"You really didn't have to do that, Bryce," Chuck smiled, touched that he had done so nonetheless.
"I know," Bryce replied easily. "But he's your friend. And, I've screwed up your life enough lately without getting him fired too."
"You didn't screw up my life, Bryce," Chuck protested, watching a sad little smile curl his lips. "You just made it a lot more interesting."
"Speaking of interesting, buddy," Bryce grinned, seamlessly changing the conversation. "Don't get kidnapped by a rogue Chinese agent while I'm taking this new TV out to the car."
.
.
As a matter of fact, Chuck didn't get kidnapped by a rogue Chinese operative while Bryce was taking care of his new purchase. He didn't get kidnapped all morning, in fact. There was a rather frightening incident during lunch where Mei-Ling phoned him up and demanded his help in saving her brother. For a moment, Chuck considered telling Casey and Sarah that Mei-Ling had phoned him and probably been in the Buy More watching him. But, then he remembered that morning and how they'd dismissed his wishes to help, so he chose not to. Instead, he and Bryce ate a quick lunch in the Buy More break room, amused as the green shirts rushed in and out checking on the progress of their competition. Between hurried entrances and exits, Chuck told Bryce all about the brief phone call, and his friend looked encouraged - as if his plan was coming together.
A little later, Jeff came and got Chuck, saying something about a delivery of hard drives he had to sign for in the storage cage. Chuck made his way there, met with a gun in the stomach and an angry Chinese operative.
"You really don't want to do that," Bryce commented, tone idle except for the steel running through it. He had a gun in his hand, held up in a way that promised he would use it but he really didn't want to.
"Put the gun down and walk away," Mei-Ling demanded, clearly wrong footed by not knowing that Bryce was one of Chuck's handlers.
"Can't do that as long as you've got a gun on Chuck."
"Bryce," Chuck called, hoping his friend got the true depth to which Chuck hated the whole having a gun held on him thing.
"Don't worry, buddy," Bryce said, easily as if they were taking a stroll through the park. "You ever seen White Nights? Hunt for Red October?"
Chuck wasn't proud of how long it took him to work it out, but when he did, he almost smiled. Only Bryce could work out a solution where they could do what was right and probably not face too many consequences for it.
Unfortunately, Mei-Ling seemed to be on the same wavelength. "I will never defect."
"Your government turned it's back on you and your brother," Bryce reminded her, gently but for the gun in his hand. "Do you really still have any loyalty to them?"
Chuck couldn't see Mei-Ling's face, but he could hear the pain in her voice. "If I defect I cannot go home. I will never see my brother again."
"I know a thing or two about going rogue for the right reasons," Bryce offered, taking a minute step forward. "And I know how hard it can be to make the right choice. Right now, what I'm asking you to do sounds impossible. But," Bryce met Chuck's eyes trailing off into silence.
"But," Chuck said, picking up where Bryce had left off. "If you don't do this, you will lose your brother forever, and we all know that's not what you want."
"What about the other two?"
Chuck was certain he didn't imagine the flicker of irritation that passed over Bryce's face. "The other two aren't involved. And, if they get involved?" This time Chuck knew he saw Bryce smirk. "I haven't pulled rank on them yet. That'll be fun."
Chuck felt the cold barrel of the gun begin to lower away from the side of his head, only to jam hard against his neck again. Bryce spun on his heel, hands wide. "Casey, Sarah! Lower your guns."
Casey narrowed his eyes. "Give me one good reason."
Chuck indulged himself in imagining the smirk on Bryce's face. "Mei-Ling is defecting. Her only condition is that we rescue her brother first."
.
.
While Casey and Sarah escorted Mei-Ling into Casey's apartment, Bryce personally escorted Chuck to his own. Ellie was already working in the kitchen, readying their famous mother's day meal. "The prodigal brother returns," Ellie called, sending a beaming smile Chuck's way. "And Bryce too. Hey, Bryce."
"Evening, Ellie," Bryce smiled, offering her the bouquet he'd made Casey stop the car to buy. "Happy Mother's Day."
Ellie came out of the kitchen and took the flowers, smiling in bemusement. "Thank you." She shot a questioning look at Chuck, who could only shrug. Who knew why Bryce Larkin did what he did? He'd never understand.
"You're welcome," Bryce simply said. "Now, my present to you. One Charles Bartowski, present and accounted for. And," Bryce pulled Chuck's phone from his pocket, turning it off and dropping it in his own pocket. "No interruptions guaranteed."
His phone. Chuck needed his phone. How else was he going to be contacted in case they needed him on their rescue mission. "Bryce."
The agent skillfully avoided Chuck's grabs for his phone. "You'll get it back in the morning, Chuck. I'll bring the coffee, you bring the leftovers." He stopped, offering Chuck a quick hug. "I've got this," he promised in a whisper. "Just enjoy the night. Okay?"
Then with a jaunty grin and a wave, Bryce left the apartment and Chuck could only stutter approximations of his name.
"I hate it when he does that."
"I think it's sweet," Ellie said, a wealth of meaning Chuck wished he was good at reading in her tone. "Now, you coming to help?"
"Sure thing, sis," Chuck agreed, throwing himself into spending their mother's day with his sister. He hadn't realised how much he needed it, this touch of normality, his time with his sister. They'd both been so busy lately, it was good just to relax and spend time with just the two of them.
And, yeah, a part of him did spend the night worried about what was happening with Mei-Ling and her brother, but the four of them were the best spies Chuck had ever met, he knew they had this. Bryce wouldn't lie to him about a thing like that.
.
.
The next morning, armed with a lot of questions and a Tupperware container full of leftovers, Chuck found himself again knocking on Bryce's door. Bryce opened it before Chuck had knocked more than twice. "Mission was a success. Mei-Ling's brother is safe and she's on her way to a debriefing."
Chuck let out a sigh of relief, stepping past his friend into the apartment. "And you didn't get shot?"
"At? Yes. Hit? No." Bryce flashed him a grin. "I do have bruises in a few uncomfortable places, but par for the course there."
"Ellie sends leftovers and an invitation for a family dinner tonight," Chuck announced, sidestepping the awkward issue of his friend brushing off injuries as normal. "I want my phone and the coffee you promised."
"Kitchen counter," Bryce called, walking towards his bedroom to finish dressing.
Chuck stowed the leftovers in the fridge, grabbing both his phone and their coffees from the counter. Deciding to wait for his friend in the living room, Chuck went to take a seat. To the end of his days, he would forever deny that he yelped.
"Bryce! What the hell happened to your old television?!"
The CIA agent strolled out of his bedroom with a wicked grin. "I told you, it had an accident." Bryce picked up a bowl of cereal from the table and carried on eating like it was no big deal.
"This looks like you-" Chuck peered closer to the suspicious hole in the flat screen. "Did you stab this with a bat'leth?"
Bryce turned innocent eyes on Chuck. "Did you want me to help bump up Morgan's sales figures or not, Chuck?"
It was too early for Bryce Larkin logic. "I didn't want you to murder an innocent piece of technology with a Klingon weapon, you nerd."
"Hey, it had it coming," Bryce shrugged as if he was the victim in all this. "I have an engineering degree-"
Chuck flashed him a grin, giddy because this was the one person he could say this too and not sound like an entitled ass. "Who doesn't?"
Bryce's eyes twinkled slightly, but he continued as if Chuck had never spoken. "And it took me two whole days to set it up."
"And for that, it deserved to die?"
"I've killed people for less."
When Bryce said things like that Chuck could never quite tell if he was joking or not. But, it was Chuck's policy to pretend that he was.
"You'd just been shot. It wasn't the television's fault you were loopy on pain meds."
Bryce seemed to consider that - correct - argument for a moment. Then he shrugged again. "It happened, it's dead. Let's mourn it and move on."
Chuck adopted what he hoped was a suitably mournful demeanour. "Fare thee well good television. You lived but a short time, but you shone brightly."
"Today was a good day to die," Bryce added, Chuck losing the battle with his laughter.
"Wait," Chuck gasped, something Bryce had mentioned occasionally coming into Chuck's mind. "You're really Casey's boss?"
Bryce didn't reply, but his eyes danced and his grin turned wicked. "Let's get to work, we don't want to upset Ellie because Big Mike makes us work late."
"I really hope I don't flash today," Chuck muttered, following after his best friend. "I could use a break."
"You weren't the one who had a firefight in Chinatown last night," Bryce retorted, practically bouncing towards the car.
Chuck couldn't help his grin. "Had fun, buddy?"
"Oh yeah."
And Chuck got treated to all the details during their morning commute. As a member of a family who made up their own traditions, Chuck decided that adding this one wouldn't be so bad either.
