After Black Friday, Chuck had thought he'd never get used to the idea that Bryce had chosen to stay in Burbank. He thought he'd be constantly looking over his shoulder to make sure his friend had really remained with him and not gone off on some suicidal quest. And, he couldn't lie, Chuck did still worry that Bryce would be gone the next time he turned around. But, it had only been ten days. Chuck couldn't be expected not to worry after only a week and a bit.
Neither he nor Bryce had gone more than the distance of their respective apartments away from one another since Friday. Even then, they had only gone about twenty minutes before one of them came to find the other. Which is why, instead of being tucked up in front of his television, marathoning video games, Chuck found himself sat at his dining room table, grinning at a playfully scowling Bryce.
His best friend was partially illuminated by the glow from his laptop screen, Chuck almost unable to believe what he was seeing.
"You took work home with you?"
"Shut up."
"Actual accounting work, from the Buy More?"
Bryce threw a pen at him, Chuck laughing as he ducked out of the way.
"I can't believe I chose to stay here," Bryce sighed, shaking his head in despair. "This is my life now. How is this my life?"
"You chose it," Chuck grinned, dropping Bryce's pen back on the table.
"Yeah, must've been crazy," Bryce hummed, flashing that crooked grin of his. "I can't imagine why I thought staying here would be more fun than going on a one man crusade to take down Fulcrum."
Chuck, who was getting better at not flinching any time Bryce (or Casey or Sarah) mentioned Fulcrum, tilted his head and returned Bryce's grin. "I'd say it was a self-preservation instinct, except I know you."
Bryce chuckled, eyes crinkling. "I'd be insulted, except you're right."
"This still doesn't explain why you willingly brought work home from the Buy More," Chuck pointed out, wrinkling his nose at the open spreadsheet on Bryce's laptop.
"Big Mike wants sales projections before the pre-christmas sale drive," Bryce sighed tiredly, reaching a hand up to rub at his temple. "Turns out having a store evacuated on the busiest shopping day of the year isn't exactly conducive to a healthy bottom line."
Chuck's smile dropped. "Are we in trouble?"
"No," Bryce replied, waving a hand in reassurance. "But I will be if I don't get these figures in soon." Bright blue eyes flickered over towards Chuck's own, abandoned, laptop. "How's your little project going?"
"A two dollar an hour raise was not worth this," Chuck complained, ignoring his laptop. "I'm a professional nerd, buddy, I have no idea how I'm supposed to plan the holiday party."
Bryce's laughter echoed around Chuck's apartment again. "In my experience, bulk buy the food and the alcohol and keep the loaded firearms out of reach."
"What kind of holiday parties have you been going to?"
"The fun kind."
Chuck shuddered despite himself, imagining impulse control impaired spies throwing knives and shooting at each other. "That doesn't sound fun, it sounds terrifying."
"All the best fun is," Bryce winked, eyes sparkling as Chuck groaned. His friend shut the lid of his laptop, apparently giving in on completing his assignment. "On the bright side, though, buddy, you're only inviting three spies to your party. So, I only have to avoid shooting Casey, and I do that every day as it is."
Chuck dropped his head into his hands and groaned again. Loudly. "Can we - please - for once actually have a holiday without rogue geniuses, double agents, or anyone trying to shoot at us?"
Bryce patted his arm sympathetically. "That would be a refreshing change."
Which was Bryce speak for "that's never going to happen, but I'm in too good a mood to burst your bubble".
"I don't think spending one holiday - especially the season of goodwill and peace on Earth - away from saving the world is really too much to ask for," Chuck sighed, thinking of the unmitigated disaster that had been Thanksgiving.
"Unrealistic," Bryce smirked, barely even blinking at the pen Chuck threw at him. "Just think, Chuck, this could be your year to climb through vents and coin your own catchphrase."
Chuck narrowed his eyes, fighting a losing battle with the grin on his lips. Nevertheless, he pointed his finger severely at his best friend. "If this Christmas ends up like Die Hard, I'm holding you personally responsible."
Bryce grinned easily, holding up his hands in a gesture of surrender. "It shouldn't, it's not even a Christmas movie," he said, the wicked twinkle in his eyes saying he knew exactly what he had done.
Well, never let it be said that Charles Bartowski backed down in the face of a debate. Even one they'd been having since Christmas freshman year.
.
When Ellie and Devon came back from their date later that night, they stopped short at the sight of the friends. Chuck and Bryce were seated at opposite ends of the couch, glaring at opposite walls and pointedly ignoring each other.
"What's going on?" Ellie asked, equal parts amused and worried.
Bryce deigned to glance at Chuck, narrowing his eyes in a glare. "Differences of opinion on Die Hard."
"Awesome movie," Devon replied, while Ellie rolled her eyes.
"You two are ridiculous," she informed them, not without a great deal of fondness. "Haven't you learned by now?"
"Nope," Chuck said, offering the first hint of a smile back at his friend. "We'll probably be having this exact same debate every Christmas for years."
"We'll be in a nursing home still bickering about it," Bryce agreed, sounding almost hopeful.
"Nah, I'll wear you down in the next half century," Chuck grinned. "By the time we're terrorising the nursing home, we'll be double teaming the whole Die Hard is a Christmas movie thing."
"You'll need more than half a century to out stubborn me, buddy," Bryce stated with a quiet certainty. "But you'll get there eventually."
Chuck glanced at Devon, reading the same idea in his face. "Well, we've got time before bed," he began slowly, grinning at the immediate head-shaking from his best friend. "Let's start now."
Ellie and Bryce both groaned and put up token protests, but it didn't take long before the popcorn and cocoa had been made. Chuck settled in on his side of the couch, watching the very definite Christmas movie begin.
.
.
"Casey just cornered me in my office and said the strangest thing," Bryce announced, tone almost puzzled over the festive sounds of Burl Ives.
"Did he make a joke that didn't involve violence of some kind?" Chuck asked, ignoring the gambling going on by the Nerd Herd centre.
Bryce snorted. "I said strange, buddy, not that hell just opened up an ice rink." Bryce glanced up at the snowflakes hanging from the ceiling, smiling. "Is there a reason why you and Sarah sent Casey a subscription to a crocheting catalogue under my name?"
Chuck debated playing dumb, but Bryce would be able to see right through him like he was a hologram. "It was Sarah's idea."
Bryce glanced across at him, laughter dancing in his eyes. "Well done."
Chuck frowned, not sure if he had avoided annoying his friend or not. "You're not mad?"
"You're irritating Casey in my name, Chuck." Bryce smiled brightly, bouncing a little on his heels. "You like me better."
"I really hope you didn't need me joining your prank war with Casey just to know I like you the most," Chuck frowned, again. If he kept this up, he was going to end up looking like Casey.
Bryce grinned anew, shoving his hands in his pockets. "A guy likes to feel special, Chuck," he said, humming softly along to the festive music.
"Well," Chuck replied, telling himself he was not smiling. "Now that you feel special, how about you go finish those budget projections before Big Mike yells at both of us about it."
"I had Graham scare an intern into doing it," Bryce shrugged, only looking slightly guilty. "Apparently it's good work experience."
Distantly, Chuck wished he had some interns willing to have all his tedious paperwork foisted off on them, but all he said was; "That's mean."
Bryce simply grinned, unrepentant. "I think you might not be aware of this, buddy, but I'm only nice to you."
Chuck had a very good reply to that, but he was distracted by Morgan's voice against his ear.
"She's a liar, not to be trusted."
"What's that?" Chuck asked, turning to face his oldest friend.
"Women," Morgan clarified morosely. "Man, they're so elusive, so unknowable-"
"Maybe for you," Bryce muttered, holding his hands up innocently at Chuck's narrowed eyes.
"They wrap you in this wool sweater of lies," Morgan continued, oblivious to Bryce. "It keeps you warm, but it makes your neck all itchy."
Chuck risked a brief glance at Bryce, wondering if there was something he had missed. His friend looked just as confused as Chuck. "Who are we talking about?"
"Anna," Morgan replied, as if it ought to have been obvious. "And, by the way, never trust a woman who's name is a palindrome, okay?"
That didn't make much sense, but Chuck figured that was the least of his current problems. "Uh, how do you know she's a liar?"
"I waited outside her house last night, in the bushes." Not exactly normal behaviour, but not out of character for Morgan. "I saw her get picked up to go out, then dropped off exactly three hours and twenty four minutes later."
"Spying on your girlfriend," Bryce tsked, shaking his head. "That's-"
Chuck glanced over his shoulder, raising one eyebrow. Seriously?
Bryce mimed zipping his lips. "I have no opinion."
"She's cheating on me," Morgan summarised glumly. "My Anna Banana is cheating on me."
Chuck knew that it was time to be a supportive best friend and try and comfort Morgan, but all he could focus on was; "In the bushes?"
"I brought a sandwich."
Well, that made it infinitely less creepy.
"Listen, she's lying to me, okay?" Morgan sighed, widening his eyes in pointed intensity. "And a relationship is built on trust, Chuck." Morgan nodded a few times. "Sex and trust, am I right?"
Bryce unzipped his lips and leaned around Chuck. "You don't need sex to be in a meaningful relationship." He rezipped his lips and returned to his place behind Chuck.
Morgan glared around Chuck, a frown creasing his forehead. "Why is the Accountant still here?"
"We're being interdependent lately," Chuck dismissed, focusing on the problem at hand. "Sex and trust are two big prerequisites, I guess."
"You ever wish you were born like a dog or a dolphin? Or Dr. Dre?"
Chuck did not honestly know how to answer that. There was a muffled noise behind him, undoubtedly Bryce trying hard not to laugh. And, really, Chuck appreciated the effort.
"Chuckster!" Lester called, appearing from deeper in the store with Jeff at his back. "Uh, we got an install job over at Marina Del Ray."
"Okay," Chuck replied, tapping his fingers to his forehead. "Go with God fellas."
"No, no, no," Lester replied, looking at Chuck as if he wasn't understanding something. "Big Mike says you have to come with us. 'Cause you know that Jeff's not to be left unsupervised around the holidays."
"Do you want to try my eggnog?" Jeff asked, raising a thermos. Lester shook a finger quickly.
"No. I'm sorry, fellas," Morgan interrupted, looking like someone had kicked his puppy. "Is it okay if you guys go by yourselves, okay? 'Cause, Anna's cheating on me."
"Ouch," Lester offered unsympathetically. "Who's the lucky guy?"
"Maybe it's not another guy," Jeff suggested, Morgan letting out a small noise.
"Okay!" Chuck cut in, needing to put a stop to this. "Let's strap on our life jackets and hit the Marina."
"This is the least sane workplace I've ever been in," Bryce muttered, impressed. "And I've infiltrated some nasty places."
And, filing that away under Things Chuck isn't going to think about. "Fancy a trip to Marina Del Ray?"
Bryce hummed a negative. "I've got paperwork waiting for me."
"So you'll drive?" Chuck asked, using the please don't leave me alone with them tone.
Bryce flashed him a sparkling grin, already lifting the keys from Chuck's pocket. "Yeah."
.
.
With the four of them working on the installation, it took no time at all. Chuck ran a final check on the system, making sure everything was paired to the remote. "Well, the everything checks out and the system is online," he announced, turning to the man supervising their work. "Most onboard functions are now controllable from anywhere on the boat."
"Nice ship," Lester complemented. "Reminds me of the Pacific Princess."
The supervisor glanced up from the control. "I'm not familiar."
Lester chuckled disbelievingly. "Oh, really?"
"The Love Boat," Chuck announced, payback for the inane chatter he and Bryce were subjected to on the drive over. "He's referring to The Love Boat."
Bryce helpfully hummed the theme tune, smirking as Lester whined for them to please be quiet.
"You got a head on board?" Jeff asked the scowling supervisor. "I've had a lot of eggnog."
"Which you should have left at home," Chuck chided, feeling like the only adult on the whole Nerd Herd team. "You know not every boat you get on is a booze cruise, pal."
Jeff turned downstairs, Lester hurrying after him. The supervisor told them not to go down there, which only made Bryce grin and follow them down. Chuck too, because he hadn't been joking earlier when he said he and Bryce were doing the whole interdependent thing lately. And, he figured one of them had to actually be responsible and try and keep Jeff and Lester from doing something stupid and irresponsible.
Bryce whistled lowly, eyes fixed on the machines counting a lot of money. Chuck looked over his shoulder in time to meet the glare of a muscular man in a suit. They were hustled, professionally, out onto the first floor.
"They were counting money raised for Mr Kirk's aid organisation, from a charity event," the irritated supervisor informed them.
"Kirk, as in the captain?" Lester checked.
"Kirk as in Lon Kirk, the man who owns this boat."
"Oh right," Chuck agreed, the name ringing a bell. "Yeah, yeah. Lon Kirk. He's a billionaire. He owns a country somewhere or something, right?"
A man carried a plastic crate full of bills past them, one floating to the floor in front of Chuck.
"Incoming," Jeff remarked, nodding towards the other end of the cabin.
Two women in bikinis emerged from a stairwell, but Chuck was more concerned with the bill on the floor. He bent down and picked it up.
"Afternoon, ladies," Bryce greeted, leaning casually against the wall.
"Jeff, Lester, Bryce, I think we should leave now," Chuck decided, knowing instantly that leaving them on the boat would be a bad idea. Well, leaving Jeff and Lester would be a bad idea. Bryce was their designated driver. Chuck held out the bill, looking at it for the first. "I think you dropped this," he said, images already flashing through his mind. He looked harder at the bill, turning to Bryce. "They're fake."
Bryce took one look at his face then promptly grabbed both Jeff and Lester by the arms. "We're going now," he announced, brooking no disagreement. "Come on, buddy." Chuck mutely followed along after him, wondering what in the hell he'd gotten them involved in this time.
.
.
Bryce dropped Jeff and Lester off at the Buy More, collected a glowering Casey and then drove them home to Echo Park. Before long, Chuck found himself in another briefing with both Beckman and Graham. One where Sarah was curiously absent.
"The serial numbers that Chuck flashed on are a strain of counterfeit currency that the Treasury have been trying to crack for years," Graham announced, narrowing his eyes slightly as Bryce entered the apartment carrying mugs of coffee. "But perhaps we should wait to debrief you until Agent Walker arrives and Agent Larkin has finished making coffee."
Chuck quietly accepted his, well used to Bryce's opinions on the quality or lack thereof of Casey's coffee. Bryce settled in on the other side of Chuck, not even voicing so much as an apology for his tardiness.
"What'd I miss?"
"Counterfeit bills, Treasury's been trying to find the source," Casey summarised, crossing his arms over his shirt.
"Where is Agent Walker?" Beckman asked, peering through the screen at them.
"I'm here," Sarah called, hurrying through the door. "Traffic."
"As we were saying," Beckman continued, her disapproval clear. "Lon Kirk now devotes most of his time and money to aid projects, mostly foreign."
"And we think he's the source?" Casey checked, narrowing his eyes at the photograph on screen.
"Not confirmed," Graham replied. "However, we have intel that a major counterfeiter is in Los Angeles trying to acquire a new set of printing plates."
"And how shall we proceed?" Sarah asked, her hands wrapped around a coffee mug of her own.
Graham stared warningly at them all. "As far as Kirk is concerned, very cautiously. He's very well connected."
"He's hosting a charity event tonight at the New Constellation Yacht Club," Beckman continued. "Sarah, Chuck, and Agent Larkin will go as guests. Casey as staff."
"One question," Casey said, glancing down the line at Chuck, Bryce and Sarah. "Will Chuck and Sarah be going as a couple?"
"Unless they have a problem," Beckman replied, leaning back in her chair.
Chuck could think of absolutely no reason why he would have a problem pretending again that he was in a relationship with Sarah. Especially not after he broke up with her and had it been made very clear to him that there would never be anything between them.
"No problem," Sarah confirmed, calm and professional.
"No problem," Chuck gritted out in reply. This night was not going to be a disaster. Everything was going to be fine. And, if he messed things up, Bryce would be there to have his back.
Graham nodded at them. "Good luck then."
Bryce sipped nonchalantly on his mug, offering Chuck a commiserating smile. "It'll be just like the art auction then, except without the firefight and kidnapping."
"You wish," Casey muttered, apparently impervious to Bryce's death glare.
Chuck stepped forward, blocking Casey from Bryce. "Well, this has been fun and all, but we're running out of break time and Big Mike wants an assembly before we leave tonight."
"It's about the holiday party," Bryce guessed, Chuck having turned in an exact replica of the last party plan that morning.
"Probably," Chuck agreed. "But we've still gotta be there to hear his announcement."
Bryce rolled a shoulder in a shrug. "I suppose there are worse ways to waste time until a mission."
.
.
The Buy More staff, from Green shirts to Nerd Herders, assistant manager and accountant, lined up in front of the televisions. Big Mike consulted a stained piece of paper, then began to pace in front of them.
"For those of you who are unaware, this Friday is our annual Buy More Chris-"
"Hup," Lester interrupted, staring pointedly at their manager.
"... Holiday party," Big Mike amended. "With respect to our Hebrew friends and whatever else we have here." He looked one or two of the staff up and down, then continued down the line. "So there's no confusion, I'll go over the ground rules." Big Mike came to a stop before Jeff. "Rule one: Jeff, no spiking the eggnog."
"Can I bring my own?"
"No!" Big Mike glared. "Rule number two: Jeff, no holding the mistletoe over the women and copping a feel."
"Uh, sir," Chuck cut in, trying to avoid Anna deciding to maim Jeff preemptively. "Hopefully, if Jeff follows rule number one - which I'm sure he might do - then rule number two won't apply."
"Good point," Big Mike conceded, returning the paper to his pocket. "Okay, who's bringing eats?"
"Uh, I'll be making latkes," Lester announced, stepping forward.
"What's that?"
"Um, the traditional Jewish pancake," Lester explained haltingly.
"Bryce is bringing pie," Chuck added, hoping to distract Big Mike from grilling Lester.
"Oh, I am, am I?" Bryce asked, turning a playful grin on Chuck. "Thanks for letting me know."
"Any time, buddy," Chuck grinned, clapping him on his shoulder. "It'll give me something to look forward to when tonight inevitably goes horribly," he added in a quiet whisper.
"Another night of you criticising my taste in music and drinking all my coffee," Bryce sighed, face blank but for his twinkling eyes. "It really is Christmas."
"Your sarcasm is not helpful," Chuck informed him with great dignity. "I don't know why I ever thought I'd miss it."
"Feeling the love, buddy," Bryce grinned, glancing over his shoulder as he was called away by Big Mike. "I'll see you later, yeah?"
"I'm your ride and my tux is in your apartment," Chuck replied brightly, pushing down the frisson of instinctive alarm at watching Bryce turn away. He was just going to the office, he wasn't leaving. It was all good.
.
.
"Dude, I need your help," Morgan announced, coming to find Chuck just as he was coming to find him. "I think I made a horrible mistake."
Chuck set his coffee down on the nearest desk. "What did you swallow this time?" Beckman would not be pleased with him if he had to miss tonight's mission because he was in the Emergency Room with his friend who swallowed things he really shouldn't.
"No, no," Morgan shook his head. "It's worse. Worse. Anna's parents are in town, right? So I tell her "hey, I'd like to meet them". So she goes okay. Are you kidding me? What was I thinking? My own parents don't even like me. We're similar."
"Morgan, Morgan," Chuck held out a calming hand, smiling reassuringly. "Relax buddy. It's going to be fine, just be yourself. That's what Anna likes, right? So will her parents."
"Yeah," Morgan agreed dubiously. "Right. You're right. That's what I'm gonna do."
"Are you insane?" Lester cut in, uninvited. "You can't be yourself. You have to be better than yourself. By, like, a factor of ten."
"Or eleven," Jeff added, leaning beside his friend.
"I got to take it up a notch," Morgan agreed, completely disregarding Chuck's advice. "Who should I be?"
"Well, last I checked there were over, like, six billion people on the planet," Lester replied. "Pick anyone. Should be an improvement."
Chuck felt the very strong urge to scream. He wrestled it down, glaring at Lester. "Shut up," he said, turning his attention to his friend. "Morgan, it's going to be fine. You're going to be fine."
"Just be myself," Morgan repeated, shaking his head. "I'm going to make a fool of myself."
"What's wrong with Grimes?" Bryce commented, reading the woebegone frown on Morgan's face.
"He's meeting Anna's parents," Chuck replied softly, narrowing his eyes in a way that told Bryce to be nice.
"Big step," Bryce whistled, settling in beside Chuck. "You'll be fine."
"Him," Lester announced, pointing at Bryce. "Be him."
Morgan glanced at Bryce, his usual possessiveness over Chuck briefly replaced with a considering frown.
Bryce didn't even look as he reached out and pushed Lester away. "Don't be me, be you. You're the guy who's been Chuck's best friend since you were kids. That guy has nothing to fear from meeting parents. If you're good enough for Chuck, you're good enough for them." Bryce nodded once. "Now, buddy, we've got to get a move on if we're going to make dinner."
"You're going to dinner?" Morgan demanded, successfully distracted from his original woes.
"It's a black tie thing," Bryce dismissed, waving a hand grandly. "I was invited through some people I knew at my old job. That ending how it did, Chuck said he'd be my plus one for moral support."
"I did," Chuck agreed, narrowing his eyes slightly at Bryce. "And we should probably get going so I have enough time to properly tease you about looking like a maitre d."
Bryce's eyebrow raised slightly, a teasing smile on his lips. "You mean so you can waste a good half hour pretending you can do up a bow tie before making me do it for you?"
"Hey, I don't have to come-"
"Yes, you do," Bryce sang, grabbing Chuck's hand as he made for his exit. "See you all tomorrow!"
"What was that?" Chuck demanded when they were far enough away.
Bryce offered a slight smile, something almost sad about it. "I know you feel bad about not being able to tell him things. This way, he knows vaguely what you're up to tonight and you can complain about all the rich people and the terrible food when we get in tomorrow."
Enough truth to make lying palatable, just like a perfect cover. A way for Chuck to be able to confide in Morgan without exposing him to the world Chuck now inhabited.
"Thanks Bryce."
His friend offered a crooked grin, tossing him the car keys. "Anytime, buddy."
