For the first time since he'd opened Bryce's email (and, seriously, his friend had better pull out all the stops at Christmas, because Worst. Present. Ever), Chuck was beginning to think he had a hold on the two - very, very different - worlds that he lived in. His job as Assistant Manager of the Burbank Buy More was going well (although paperwork was still a monotonous torment from which there was no escape), his relationships with Ellie, Awesome and Morgan were going strong. And his spy life was dovetailing nicely in with his real life. Casey was (glacier slowly) warming to him, Bryce was in and out of his apartment, taking it easy (healing nicely thanks to both Ellie's attention and whatever super healing drugs the CIA pumped their operatives full of), and Chuck's fake relationship with Sarah was blossoming.

Unfortunately, all the theoretical blossoming in the world didn't exactly prepare him for his latest mission.

Chuck stood opposite Sarah in the storage room of the Wienerlicious, meeting Sarah's intensely focused gaze with a (only slightly, yay progress) panicked look of his own.

"Are you ready?" Sarah asked, the warmth from her hands seeping through the thin cotton of his shirt.

"Maybe we're in over our heads," Chuck protested, knowing there was no backing down from this.

Sarah's stare softened slightly, projecting reassurance and confidence. "It's time."

Chuck really wished it wasn't. "Sure it's not too dangerous?"

"I'll be an inch away."

"I'm scared."

Sarah nodded slightly, accepting that and moving beyond it. "Let's go over it again and make sure we have our bases covered."

Chuck took a deep, deep breath, releasing it slowly. "God, who thought goin' out to sushi with my sister and her boyfriend would make me so freaked out?"

Chuck paced the small room, refusing to be soothed by the blue of the walls.

Sarah stood exactly where he'd left her, watchful and calm. Coaching him as gently as she always did. Not for the first time, Chuck wished this was more than just a cover relationship. He could see things working out with Sarah, if only any of it were real.

Sarah snapped him from his thoughts. "Okay. Last night we saw a movie."

Chuck stepped closer, raising a finger. "What was my snack of choice?"

Sarah didn't even need to think. "Sprinkled Milk Duds over your popcorn." Her smile said she thought it was adorably weird, but hey it was delicious. "What was I wearing?"

"Blue top, little buttons."

Sarah paused, a surprised light coming into her eyes. "You like that one?"

"I like all of them," Chuck answered, probably too honestly. Sarah's smile softened further. "What movie were we-?"

Chuck's question was interrupted by a wiggling of the doorknob.

"Hey," Scooter called through the door. "Why is the door locked?"

Before Chuck could process anything, Sarah had him on his back on the floor. She was kneeling over him, her breath warm on his neck.

"Girl on top," Scooter, who looked all of fifteen and with a bow tie even geeky younger Chuck would never have worn, frowned down at them. "Miss Walker. When Herr Wienerlicious signs your paychecks, I doubt he is factoring make-out breaks with your boy-toy."

Chuck distantly heard that, but his mind was more fixed on how quickly Sarah had thrown him to the ground. He had a feeling he would be replaying that particular incident quite often in his head today.

"I'm sorry," Sarah apologised, getting back to her feet. "I had to think fast."

"No problem," Chuck said breathlessly, pushing himself quickly to his feet. "Good thinking. It was good. Yeah."

.

.

A little while later, Chuck found himself back in the Buy More, tackling the same endless forms he swore Tang hid from him until he thought he was nearly finished. He was borrowing the tucked away office (closet) that Big Mike had given Bryce to work from, head in his hands and already beginning to throb dully.

The closet door opened and Bryce shuffled wearily in. Judging by the lines around his eyes, his friend was just back from his late lunch (AKA, checkup in some secure CIA facility he wouldn't let Chuck near, no matter how much Chuck bugged and badgered him). He stopped when he saw Chuck at his desk, a small smile curling his lips. "You look happy."

Chuck wanted to groan loudly. So he did. "Remind me why I wanted this promotion?"

"Paperwork isn't so bad when you get used to it." Bryce grinned, tilting his head in the way he always had. The one that said he was hiding exactly how amused he was because he knew Chuck wouldn't appreciate it. "Beats getting shot. Not shot at, but definitely beats getting shot." His friend slowly lowered himself into the uncomfortable chair he kept there for Chuck's visits. "You know, I don't think I've been to the doctor so often in all my time at the agency."

"Everything okay?"

"Healing as expected, still on restricted duty for the foreseeable."

Chuck's happiness at the information was tempered by the knowledge that Bryce really hated it. Although they both knew that if Chuck even breathed near danger, the fact Bryce was supposed to be on restricted duty meant absolutely nothing. It was almost as comforting a thought as it was terrifying.

"Sorry."

Bryce chuckled, head shaking wryly. "Don't worry about me. I hear you and Sarah have a big double date soon."

Chuck dropped his head back into his hands. "Don't remind me."

Bryce leaned back in his chair, easy grin gracing his lips. "Well, if you don't want me to distract you from your paperwork..."

"How does it keep growing?"

"One of life's little mysteries," Bryce shrugged. "Like how all that crap that goes into hotdogs can still taste so good." He dropped his head back, staring pathetically at the ceiling. "I miss junk food."

Chuck offered a sympathetic hum. It had been a long week and a half of salads and healthy eating in solidarity.

A companionate silence fell after that, Bryce sprawled on the chair (probably imagining various foods underlined heavily on Ellie's not allowed list), while Chuck returned to the whatever circle of hell being committed to useless labour was.

"Fourth," Bryce said when Chuck asked, peering at him with laughing blue eyes. "Why?"

Chuck waved a hand at the mess of paperwork - both his and Bryce's - that littered the small desk. "Really enjoying my stay."

Bryce laughed, sitting upright with a bitten back groan. He stared at Chuck for a long moment, then nodded. "Go join your nerdy friends. I've got this. I swear to God, Chuck, you look bored enough to shoot someone."

Chuck wasn't sure if this newfound desire to help with paperwork was born from Bryce's continuing desire to try and make up for the recent Stanford era revelations, or just because he was that bored on restricted duty. Either way, Chuck wasn't about to refuse.

"You sure?"

"Yes," Bryce sighed, shooing him out with the flap of one hand. "Now go, before I change my mind."

.

.

Chuck sat alone in the Nerd Herd centre, unable to stop himself from replaying the scene with Sarah. It had been a long (long, long) time since anyone had done anything like that to him; he probably enjoyed the human contact more than he should have. It wasn't that he was lonely, he didn't think; no, not with all the time he was spending with his family, Morgan, Bryce, and even Casey and Sarah. But, there was a difference between friendly interactions - the hugs and the fist bumps, the absent touches as they went about their days - and actual, deliberate touch. Like a kiss on the cheek, or holding someone's hand, to say nothing about being close enough to a person to smell their scent and grow slightly dizzy with it.

And Sarah, underneath the scent of gourmet wieners, had smelt very, very nice.

The ding of the service bell jolted Chuck from his daydreams. He turned and saw a beautiful, if slightly jumpy and frantic woman standing in front of the desk.

"Hi-"

She waved her phone at him. "I keep pressing the button and nothing happens."

"Is it fully charged?" Chuck checked. "Because sometimes-"

"My entire life is in this," the woman announced, keeping the phone from Chuck's reaching hand. "Okay? I've got names, dates, places, times, events, music, photos, recipes."

"Wow, you cook too?" She was beautiful and she cooked, in another life she would have been absolutely perfect for him. You know, in a world without his committed fake relationship with Sarah.

"I can't start from scratch again," she cried, turning away. "I can't be the person I was before this thing came along. Okay? I am freaking out!"

Chuck felt a sudden pang of companionship. "Listen," he began soothingly. "Um?"

"Lou," she said. A strange but oddly fitting name.

"Lou," Chuck nodded, accepting that. "This is kind of my world. You know?" He gestured at the Nerd Herd centre and wider, around the Buy More. "This is what I do and I do it pretty good. So, trust me."

Lou stared at him for a long moment, nodding. "Okay," she said, pressing the phone into his hand. "I know I'm totally spazzing out, I'm sorry. It's just a little overwhelming to even consider-"

"No, no, no," Chuck shook his head. He wasn't going to let her panic any more. He had this. He might not be able to leap from building to building or fight a squad of killer ninjas, or brush off wounds like they were papercuts, but he could do this. This was his superpower. "Go to a happy place," he suggested, smiling. "Is there something that you think about that quiets the little voices in your head?"

"Um," Lou closed her eyes, taking a deep breath. "Turkey. Muenster cheese. Egg bread. Grilled."

Chuck blinked, momentarily thrown. And charmed. "Was that a sandwich?"

Lou smiled at him, admitting; "Yeah, they're my passion."

Chuck laughed, smiling anew. "That sounds pretty delicious." In fact, he could go for one of those right now, if it didn't sound like something he was definitely not allowed to eat in solidarity with Bryce's dietary plan.

"I own a deli in the mall and I often think about meats and cheeses," Lou announced, proudly.

"Who doesn't?" Chuck asked rhetorically, enjoying the way Lou's brown eyes sparkled as she smiled. "Look, I promise you, if you come back tomorrow your phone will be all fixed up and good to go. Okay?"

"Thank you, so much."

"No problem."

"It's been nice talking with you, Chuck," Lou smiled.

"You too, Lou," Chuck said. And then he heard what he had said. "That rhymed. I didn't actually mean for that to rhyme. I'm sorry."

Lou turned back, her laughter lighting up her face. She really was beautiful and bright and strangely perfect. Chuck stared after her until she was gone from his sight.

Morgan popped up in front of him, astonishment in his face. "Mind cheater," he sang. "Saw you."

Chuck threw a hand up. "Saw me what?"

"Saw you what?" Morgan repeated, askance. "Dude, are you kidding me?" Morgan turned and gestured towards the doors that had just closed behind Lou. "Mind cheating with the broken phone girl." He leaned on the counter beside Chuck. "And why wouldn't you? Her hair looked so much like liquorice. I wanna chew on it until I make myself sick."

Chuck turned, staring down at his friend. Sometimes he wondered if Morgan heard the things he said.

"But you?" Morgan shook his head. "Gee whiz, Chuck. You already have hair to chew on."

"What?" Chuck laughed. "What the hell are you talking about?"

Morgan turned, looking up at Chuck as if he was being particularly slow today. "Name Sarah ring a," Morgan said, the clear peal of the bell sounding behind him.

Chuck valiantly decided to ignore him.

"Just because you didn't actually do anything with Liquorice Hair, doesn't mean you didn't want to." Morgan smirked up at him, walking off while singing 'mind cheater' under his breath.

Chuck stared blankly at the doors to the Buy More, mind a seething mess of thoughts. Loathe as he was to admit it, Morgan was right. Chuck was a mind cheater. A mind cheater mind cheating on his perfectly okay fake romance with his gorgeous (and terrifyingly badass) fake girlfriend with the thoughts of a real romance with Lou, the tech addict who loved sandwiches.

Any way Chuck looked at it, any way he sliced it, he was in big trouble. And it was only starting.