It wasn't hard to find Casey at the Marina. It wasn't really all that hard to find Casey anywhere. All Chuck had to do was follow the vague sense of someone wanting to shoot everyone in his immediate vicinity and there Casey usually was. They had made a brief detour on the way to the Marina, picking up coffee and donuts in an effort to appease - as Bryce called it - the hungry twitchy trigger finger.
And Bryce, as usual, was right.
Casey, in his usual rooting-for-death black attire, turned his gun on them as they came up behind him.
"Hey! Hey!" Chuck held his hands up, as much as he could considering he had coffee and baked goods in them. "Easy there, Rambo. Don't shoot. You can have the jelly filled."
Casey lowered the gun slightly. "What are you doing here?"
"Taking an afternoon constitutional," Bryce snarked, undoubtedly rolling his eyes behind his sunglasses. "Chuck brought you food and I'm here because Chuck is."
"We've got plenty of backup," Casey glowered, ignoring Chuck's offered doughnut. "Walker and I don't need your help, Larkin."
"In case you didn't pay attention at the briefing, Casey, this is a sensitive mission," Bryce reminded him, smirking. "Now, I know that your usual instinct is to shoot first and grunt questions never, but Chuck and I are capable of something unusual called subtlety."
Chuck narrowed his eyes at Bryce, fighting back the smile twitching his lips. "I thought you were going to be nice."
"I'm always nice," Bryce said, hand finding a place over his heart. "I'm a delight."
"You're a dork."
Bryce inclined his head, conceding easily; "That too."
Chuck shook his head fondly, turning his attention back to Casey. "Morgan's having lunch here with Anna and her parents. We just wanted to make sure he didn't interfere with the mission."
Casey stared at him for a long moment, offering a grunt of acknowledgement. "Grimes won't get anywhere near it," he replied, grabbing Chuck by the front of his shirt. "See?"
Binoculars were thrust upon Chuck's face, Casey tilting his head from side to side so he could see the agents lurking around the perimeter.
"So you can beat it, Bartowski," Casey smirked, dropping Chuck's shirt.
Chuck ignored him, his gaze on Sarah and Kirk through the binoculars. "They're going down below," he said, trusting that Sarah had a way to communicate with them somewhere in that skimpy bikini of hers. Following her, Chuck's attention was caught by a wooden crate. Supposedly full of humanitarian aid. But it was just a front.
The binoculars dropped back around Casey's neck, the NSA major, turning his full focus on Chuck. "What is it?"
"They're loading the counterfeit plates onto the boat," he replied, still processing the flash. "They're hidden in crates marked as aid medicines."
Casey glanced over Chuck's shoulder, sharing a confused look with Bryce. "What?"
Chuck waved his hand towards Kirk's yacht. "Yeah. I just flashed on a crate they just brought onboard. That's why Kirk just brought Sarah below deck."
Peering at the boat, Casey cursed under his breath. "This guy is important, Chuck," he sighed, as if Chuck had forgotten that detail. "We can't be wrong. You sure?"
"I just flashed," Chuck snapped, glaring at his handler. "I'm sure, okay?"
Seeing Casey still looked a little uncertain, Chuck turned to his right. Bryce sighed softly, meeting Casey's gaze. "The Intersect can't lie. Chuck's never steered you wrong before."
Casey nodded once, raising his walkie-talkie to his lips. "This is Casey. We're going in. Go."
Before Chuck could protest, Casey was running towards the boat, leaving Chuck and Bryce to watch after him.
"You're not going with them?" Chuck asked, taking in the far too casual way his friend was standing.
Bryce shook his head once. "We have a cover to maintain. Until this mission is over, Kirk can only see us as Chuck Carmichael and Bryce Anderson."
Chuck hummed slightly, squinting after the agents. "Can you see anything?"
"My sunglasses don't come with magnification, buddy," Bryce chuckled, but he pulled some binoculars from seemingly thin air. "They're on the boat," he announced, tone distant in the way it got when he was concentrating. "Kirk's yammering on. Casey's doing his Casey thing. Mm-hmm. Kirk's opening the crate."
What? Kirk?
Chuck frowned, peering at the blurry figures on the yacht. "And?"
Bryce was silent for a long moment. "Medicinal supplies. No plates."
That made no sense. Chuck had flashed. He knew what the Intersect had told him.
"But, where are the plates?"
"I don't know, buddy." Bryce's smile was small but reassuring. "But we'll find 'em."
Chuck found himself being steered back to the car.
"I am not getting dragged into that briefing," was all Bryce said, shuddering lightly. "Let's just go back to work."
Chuck tried on a grin he didn't quite feel. "You'd rather do accounting work. This must be serious."
Bryce huffed a quiet laugh. "Let's just say I'm not in the mood for repeating myself a million times that the flashes can't lie." He tossed Chuck the car keys. "I'll get a headache and Graham will start with the lecturing, and before you know it, I'll have done something impulsive like shooting the television so I don't have to listen to it anymore."
That was Bryce's distract Chuck tone. His if I keep him talking he won't notice how he nearly blew the mission tone. Not that Chuck had heard that particular inflection before, but he was a smart guy, he could extrapolate.
The thing was, Chuck didn't know how he could have messed up so badly. And until he could work it out, he welcomed Bryce's distraction.
"Shooting Casey's television is a little extreme, don't you think, Bryce?"
Bryce turned, an expression of such innocence on his face. "I'm not shooting him. And, frankly, we'd both agree I have grounds." Bryce ticked off items on his fingers. "His terrible excuse for coffee. His terrible taste in cars. His lack of appreciation for the genius that is Star Trek." The superspy paused for a second. "Oh, yeah. And he shot me."
"You'd just stolen every secret our government has and then blown up a top secret installation," Chuck pointed out reasonably. "But still, he could've used a taser."
Bryce's laughter filled the car. "You've never been shot by a taser, have you, Chuck?"
"By sucker darts, in Call of Duty, in a bulletproof vest, but not by a taser, no."
"Wouldn't recommend." Bryce cut a glance over at him, smirking. "It's almost as bad as paperwork."
"And that's what we've got to look forward to," Chuck chirped.
At least the mind numbing tedium of it would take their minds off the spectacular fail of their mission so far.
.
.
Later that night, Chuck had finally managed to stop second-guessing himself about his flash. Once again, he and Bryce were in the Bartowski/Woodcomb apartment, lounging on the couch and admiring Ellie's perfectly decorated tree. They'd just finished baking the pies for the Buy More holiday party and, since it wasn't fair to be able to smell the pies and not eat them, they'd fled to the clearer air of Chuck's empty apartment. Besides, Bryce's apartment was a bit of a mess. They'd half-heartedly begun to trim his tree (nerdy ornaments only) that Saturday and had utterly failed to return to the task in the days since.
Steaming mugs of peppermint cocoa rested on the coffee table, Christmas music playing quietly on the stereo. It was nice, relaxing. Exactly what they needed to just let go and melt into the couch cushions. Chuck's socked feet swayed to the music, Bryce watching with a fond smile.
"Must you always make cocoa hotter than the surface of Mercury?"
"There's a reason people call it hot chocolate, buddy."
"Hot chocolate, yes," Bryce teased. "Not burn your mouth chocolate."
"Always with the complaints, buddy," Chuck tsked. "In case you've forgotten,you loved my cocoa at Stanford."
"And I still do, buddy," Bryce replied, warming his hands on the mug. "Which is why I'd like to be able to drink it."
Chuck stuck his tongue out, patting Bryce's knee as the doorbell rang.
A casual clothed Sarah strolled in, tone brisk. "Are Ellie and Awesome home?"
"No, they're at work," Chuck replied, frowning. "And hello to you too."
Bryce poked his head over the couch, smiling. "Hi, Sarah."
Sarah's eyes narrowed slightly, her face losing some of it's irritation. "Hey, Bryce," she greeted, shoulders slumping on a sigh. "I know it's late and this is your free time but could you give Chuck and I a minute, please?"
Bryce turned his head, looking at Chuck. "Buddy?"
Chuck nodded, preparing himself for whatever deserved anger Sarah would throw at him. "I picked up a stack of Christmas movies a couple of days ago. Why don't you choose one? They're in my room."
"I know," Bryce replied easily. "Just shout if you need me." He nodded at Sarah, one of their wordless spy conversations over almost before Chuck could blink. "Just a fair warning, buddy, even if Die Hard 2 is in that stack, I'm not coming out with it."
Chuck rolled his eyes, grinning fondly at his friend's retreating back. "You have no taste!"
"And you're my best friend," Bryce smirking voice called back. "Think on that."
Chuck looked back at Sarah, unsurprised to find that she wasn't even slightly amused at their antics. "What can I do for you, Sarah?"
"What was that today?" Sarah asked, the tone almost a demand except for how tired she sounded.
"I don't know," Chuck sighed, resisting the urge to rub at his aching temples. "I don't get it. I flashed on the crate."
"Right when I went below deck with Kirk," Sarah replied, and Chuck could almost swear that was accusation. "Pretty convenient timing, I would say."
Yeah, that was definitely accusation.
"What are you talking about?"
"Just when you thought I was getting intimate with Kirk you decided to have a flash!"
Chuck could not believe his ears. "What exactly are you accusing me of?" he asked, meeting Sarah's glare. "Faking a flash? That I'm a flash faker?"
"You know, I think we need to discuss the fact that you let your emotions get in the way today."
"My emotions?" Chuck repeated, irritation starting to prickle in his veins. "In case you've forgotten, Sarah, you're the one who said there was nothing between us. And was I hurt? Yeah, but I moved on."
Chuck ran a hand through his hair. It had been a long day and he didn't want to say something that either of them would regret. And yet...
"Just answer me one question, Agent Walker. Are you accusing me of faking the flash because you actually believe I still have feelings for you, or is it just easier than admitting that we have no clue how to save this mission?"
Sarah stared at him for a long while, anger finally giving way to frustration. "What happened this afternoon was a mistake, Chuck," she said, as if he wasn't uncomfortably aware of that. "We can't risk it happening again."
"Sarah," Bryce called, standing just outside the kitchen. "It's not his fault."
There was a meaning behind Bryce's words that Chuck didn't understand. Sarah closed her eyes, nodding slowly.
"I know," she admitted, crossing her arms over her chest. "It's been a long week."
"And it'll get even longer until we solve this thing," Bryce agreed softly. "Go home, get some sleep. We'll still have these problems in the morning."
Sarah nodded again, offering a tired smile. "Goodnight Bryce. Chuck."
"Night, Sarah," Chuck replied, watching her walk out the door.
Bryce gracefully folded himself back onto the couch, smile a little faded. "Christmas is a hard time for spies," he said, as if that explained everything.
And, yeah, Chuck imagined that it did.
"For you too?" Chuck asked, returning to the warm spot he'd left.
Bryce blinked, a slow smile spreading on his lips. "Not this year," he said, as if it had only just dawned on him. "I'm back with my family."
Chuck couldn't have stopped his smile even if he'd wanted to. "Yeah, you are," he agreed brightly, peering at the DVD case in the table. "What'd you choose?"
"After today, we need a laugh," Bryce said, picking up the remote. He must've put the disc in while Chuck was distracted.
"Don't you get tired of watching Christmas Vacation?" Chuck teased, bumping lightly into his grinning friend's side.
"Never," Bryce replied haughtily. "And, unlike your choices, it actually is a Christmas movie."
Chuck groaned, playfully rolling his eyes. "Oh, shut up and press play."
.
.
The next day, things were business as usual at the Buy More. Jeff wandered around in his elf's hat, they continued to try and sell more than their competition next door, and Chuck juggled being Chief Nerd of the Nerd Herd with his assistant managerial duties. That he managed to do so while keeping Bryce constantly in his peripheral vision was a feat he was quite proud of - even if he was certain Bryce was hovering around on purpose.
For the record, Chuck was not complaining on that front. Not even a little bit. It meant excellent coffee was always within reach, and he didn't have to worry about his best friend disappearing off the face of the planet. Not that Chuck was worried about that, because that would be an overreaction and not at all something that Chuck would definitely totally do.
Of course, a downside of his friend being out in the open so much was that he did actually have to work, the screen of his laptop earning more than a few glares at whatever nonsense was expected of him.
"You had to pick accountant, didn't you?" Bryce grumbled under his breath, setting the offending laptop onto the desk. "You couldn't have picked literally anything else; Hitman, male model, computer game designer?"
Chuck's eyebrows lifted. "It's not my fault your cover used to be in a bank."
"This place is too idiotic for logic," Bryce pointed out, glancing towards the entrance. His eyes filled with laughter he didn't voice. "Oh, this is going to be good."
Chuck followed his gaze, helpless but to chuckle a little.
Morgan came strolling over, Chuck's eyes widening at his nautical attire. "Well, well, well," he called, Morgan offering a proud salute. "Lookin' good, Morgan."
Morgan leaned against the desk, grinning down at him. "Well, feeling good, Charles."
Bryce, because he apparently couldn't resist, rolled his chair closed for the desk. "Morning Skipper, where's Gilligan?"
Chuck hid his grin behind a cough, lightly kicking his ankle. "How was meeting Anna's parents?" Chuck asked, because it was too close to Christmas to risk bickering between his best friends.
"Uh, it was... It was fine," Morgan replied, looking across at Anna. "It went okay... Ish?"
"Let's just say he wasn't the Morgan we've all come to know and love," Anna sighed, looking down at her hands. She offered a sad sort of smile to Morgan and wandered away.
Big Mike took her place, glaring down at Morgan. "Hey, Captain Stubing!"
"Morning, Michael," Morgan replied, gesturing towards the right of the store. "You know, I was thinking about focusing my energy towards the starboard side of the store today."
"You don't change into some regulation clothing right now, I'm gonna kick the starboard side of your ass," Big Mike ordered, snatching the Captain's hat off Morgan's head as he walked away.
"Why do people hate the rich?" Morgan asked rhetorically.
Chuck, who had rolled back to enjoy the Big Mike & Morgan show, frowned as Morgan turned his attention back on him.
"Hey, listen. Uh, Anna's parents invited us, or at least Anna, on a cruise with some of their big shot Taiwanese friends. You should join us, maybe take the chance and see about getting Sarah to take you back?"
Chuck rolled his eyes. "Morgan, buddy, I know you want me and Sarah to get back together, but we're just friends and that's all it's gonna be."
Morgan sighed but nodded. "Just you then. Come on, Chuck, there's supposed to be shrimp cocktail served."
"Thanks, buddy," Chuck smiled, not really in the mood for socialisation. "I think I'm gonna just stay landlocked tonight."
"Suit yourself," Morgan shrugged, wandering off to do his job before Big Mike followed through with his promise.
Bryce groaned, cursing softly under his breath.
Chuck turned to him, alarm flaring in his stomach. "Bryce?"
"I've been summoned to Casey's," his friend sighed, pushing up off the chair. "Apparently my presence is mandatory at briefings after missions have gone FUBAR." He clapped Chuck's shoulder, trying on a grin Chuck knew was ninety percent fake. "You'd best put a TV on standby for me."
Chuck knew, rationally, that Bryce going away to a briefing was both necessary and normal, but it didn't stop his instinct to come with him. "Am I needed?"
Bryce shook his head tightly. "It's probably best if you stay here, buddy. I'll be back soon."
"Bring coffee," Chuck called. "And lunch!"
Bryce chuckled, waving as he charted a course for the doors.
.
.
Bryce grinned at his latest text message from Chuck. Apparently things were slow at the Buy More so Morgan had been talked into another round of guessing the mystery food in the break room fridge. He wasn't sorry to miss it, but the uniquely idiotic Buy More antics would (hopefully, considering Chuck's unique propensity) keep his friend from getting into trouble in the half an hour Bryce intended to be gone.
He pocketed his phone, letting himself into Casey's apartment. Immediately, his boss's voice rang through the speakers. "Agent Larkin, so nice of you to grace us with your presence."
"Forgive me, I thought guarding the Intersect was still my primary mission," Bryce snarked back, fully aware that it was a reckless thing to do and yet unable to muster the urge to care.
Graham decided to ignore Bryce's response, nodding slightly to Beckman. As if that was her cue, the NSA general launched into the lecture they'd all known was coming.
"What part of handle Lon Kirk with caution wasn't clear, Agents Walker, Larkin and Casey?"
"Chuck flashed, General," Casey replied. "Our decision to raid the boat was based on information we received from the Intersect."
"Except Chuck was wrong."
"We think Kirk must have managed to hide the plates somehow," Sarah explained, glancing a little towards Bryce. She was still a little sceptical about it, he knew, but at least she was willing to give them the benefit of the doubt.
"Where?" Graham asked, and that was the question they'd all been asking themselves since the day before.
"We don't know," Bryce admitted, sensing it was his turn to take the heat.
Graham leaned a little closer to the screen, his disapproval clear. "So you moved in anyway?"
"Is there something that might have caused Chuck to think those plates were on Kirk's boat?" Beckman asked, sounding tired. "Anything that might have caused his flash?"
Bryce stared evenly over Beckman's shoulder, fingers twitching at his sides. Sometimes, he really thought he was the only person in the intelligence agencies who actually bothered to learn the science behind the Intersect project. Of course, he did originally have a vested interest in doing so, but he would have thought his bosses would have done the same.
"Something to add, Agent Larkin?" Graham invited, tone suggesting that there better not be.
"The flashes are based on visual stimuli that trigger the information encoded on the images Chuck saw," Bryce reminded them, keeping himself calm through the training the CIA had so thoughtfully provided him. "The only things that trigger the flashes are those stimuli. So, when Chuck says those plates were on the boat, I'd be willing to bet my career on it."
"The way this case is going, you might have to," Graham growled, shaking his head.
"We don't want any of you anywhere near Kirk from now on," Beckman ordered, tone final.
"But he doesn't suspect me," Sarah protested, looking from one of their bosses to the other.
"We don't know that," Graham replied. "And we can't risk it. So, until further notice, consider yourselves benched."
With a beep far too cheerful for the situation, the connection was severed and they were left to sigh and - in Casey's case - scowl at the monitor.
"This is going to be another fun Christmas," Bryce muttered, running his hand through his hair.
Sarah smiled bitterly, pigtails swinging as her head shook. "We've had worse."
Bryce was intimately aware of that. As Sarah was herself. But, nevertheless... "Call me naive but I had hoped this would be one of our better ones."
It was certainly the closest one to normal they'd had in a long, long time. Two spies, ruthless, without families to go home to, Bryce couldn't remember a Christmas with the company that he hadn't spent knee deep in the worst of humanity.
And Sarah had been CIA longer than he had.
As if reading his mind - which Bryce honestly suspected his former partner of being secretly adept in - Sarah offered another sad smile. "Don't you ever just want to have a normal life? Have a family?"
A normal life. The thing spies tortured themselves with in the middle of the night. All the hopes and dreams tossed away for idealistic fervor that quickly burned away.
Bryce turned away, busying himself with tidying up the connection. Sarah could read him too well, and Bryce didn't want to risk her seeing whatever was hiding in his eyes right now. Besides, it wasn't fair of him to reply. Not when this, this operation, was the closest thing he was ever going to have to the life he'd once wistfully imagined. Living in California, working with Chuck, spending almost all his free time with his best friend - his college self could never have dreamed up anything better.
Casey glowered at them, eyes hard with walls drawn high up. "The choice we made to protect something bigger than ourselves is the right choice," Casey growled. "Hard as that is for you two to remember at times."
Sarah nodded, her masks coming back up. "I'll talk to Chuck, make sure things are okay between us. I didn't mean to hurt him. And if I've somehow caused this-"
"You haven't," Bryce interrupted. He wasn't anyone's agony aunt but he wasn't stupid. "Chuck said he moved on and he has. Believe me, I've seen Chuck heartbroken and I've seen him pining. Right now, he's neither. But, I think clearing the air between you two is a good idea." Bryce gathered up his take out coffee, smiling over his shoulder. "His is a friendship you don't want to lose. Trust me on that."
.
.
That evening, Chuck was still manning the Nerd Herd desk. It wasn't that he had to exactly, but Ellie and Awesome were having a date night in at the apartment, and since the thought of having to actually continue fixing the mess they'd made of Bryce's tree made them both mutually decide to stay at the Buy More awhile longer. He had a bowl of microwaved leftover pasta, a travel mug of excellent coffee, and the sarcastic commentary of Bryce on the purchases the Buy More shoppers were considering. In short, it was a pretty good evening.
Bryce had his personal laptop open on his lap, Chuck pretending he hadn't seen the folder helpfully named Fulcrum before Bryce had half-heartedly begun to look deeper into Kirk. Blue eyes flickered towards a frazzled looking mother holding a Robosapien, a considering noise leaving Bryce's throat.
"Now that's a toy that's going to make a kid very happy this Christmas."
"How did I guess you'd like toy robots?" Chuck teased, pointing at him with his plastic fork.
"I have no idea," Bryce grinned back, all innocence. "It couldn't be because we both have engineering degrees."
"Nope," Chuck agreed brightly. "That makes no sense at all."
Bryce chuckled, reluctantly returning his attention to his computer.
Chuck smiled fondly, looking down at his phone at the cheerful bleep of a message. Morgan had sent a photo of him and Anna's family on the deck of a boat - undoubtedly on the big-wig cruise Chuck had avoided. He grinned at his friend's enthusiasm, zooming in to see the details more clearly. There was a blurry crate just above Morgan's head - a very familiar looking crate.
Chuck dived into a nearby drawer, grabbing a USB cable from the depths. Then, rolling back to Bryce's side, he turned his friend's laptop until the screen was facing him.
"Chuck?"
Chuck held up a finger, connecting the USB to his phone and the computer. He uploaded the file, making use of the superior image features on Bryce's MacBook to bring up the crate.
Bryce, while holding still so his laptop didn't fall, managed to convey a sense of mild irritation. "I'm not averse to sharing my things with you, Chuck," he began, tone soft. "I seem to remember a communal approach to our property that worked out well at Stanford. But I was in the middle of something."
Chuck spun the laptop back around, pointing at the crates and the Taiwanese man standing by them. "That's Kirk's partner in dirty dealings. And those are the crates with the plates. They're on Rashan's boat."
Bryce didn't ask if Chuck was certain, he didn't so much as blink. The laptop slammed shut, the superspy rising to his feet with the irritating grace he'd had even before starting gymnastics. "Casey still here?"
"Barbeques," Chuck replied, nodding in the general direction. Bryce nodded, grabbed Chuck's wrist, and strode towards the NSA major.
.
"Hey, we need to talk," Chuck called, waving his phone vaguely in the air.
"Not right now," Casey replied, nodding towards his customer. "I'm about to move a Beastmaster."
"No," Chuck interrupted, narrowing his eyes. "Now."
Casey looked him up and down, nodding. "Fine." He handed the tongs to his customer, striding over to Chuck and Bryce. "This better be good."
"Morgan sent me a JPEG from the Taiwanese attache's yacht," Chuck announced, talking quickly. "I uploaded it to Bryce's computer and used an XTEL software device to break down the data into readable bytes."
"English, Bartowski," Casey requested, ignoring Bryce's quiet huff of laughter.
Chuck pulled out a printout. "I blew up the photo." Casey took the photo. "The counterfeit plates are on Rashan's boat, with Anna and Morgan."
"These are the same crates you flashed on yesterday," Casey pointed out, shoving the photo back at Chuck. "The ones that got us benched."
Chuck couldn't believe his ears. "Didn't you hear what I just said? Morgan and Anna are on..." Chuck trailed off, reading the disbelief in Casey's face. "Look, I'm right about this. The Intersect is right about this."
Casey shook his head apologetically. "Orders are orders."
Bryce sighed, his eyes flashing towards the door. The door and the Wienerlicious, where Sarah was still working. Before Casey could blink, they were off, hurrying across the parking lot to the restaurant.
.
"Look, I need to talk to you," Chuck called, Bryce hanging back by the entrance, glaring potential customers away.
"Chuck, please not now," Sarah sighed, nodding towards the customers waiting to be served.
"These are the same crates I flashed on yesterday," he announced, showing her the photograph. In the background, he heard Bryce making chitchat, distracting the other patrons from eavesdropping. "They're on a boat with the Taiwanese attache. The guy you saw arguing with Kirk. He's getting away with the plates."
"You think Kirk put the plates on Rashan's boat?" Sarah checked, glancing from the photo to Chuck.
"Yes!" Chuck said, imploring her to understand. "Look, I know your orders are to stay away. But the plates are on that boat. Possibly with Morgan and Anna. Look, trust me, I wouldn't be asking you to do this if I-"
Sarah interrupted him, coming around the counter to join him. She nodded at a grinning Bryce, rushing from the shop while Chuck blinked and tried to process.
Bryce grabbed his wrist, shaking his head fondly. "She's on our side. Now, come on, bud, let's go get those plates."
.
.
Casey's Crown Vic screeched to a stop just as Sarah, Chuck and Bryce were running towards the Marina. Casey emerged in full tactical gear, ready for a fight. "Someone's got to protect the Intersect," was all he said.
"I think I'm offended," Bryce muttered, but he nodded a thanks at the NSA Major.
"Thank you, I guess," Chuck frowned, a little bit bemused.
"Plus I didn't want to miss any gunplay," Casey added, brushing past him.
Yeah, that was more like it.
Chuck shrugged at Bryce, the two following after Casey and Sarah. They emerged onto the seaside in time to see Morgan doing a Titanic pose on the bow of the yacht. He saw a small metal device, images flashing through his mind.
"There's a GPS missile tracking device on the ship," he announced, breathless. "They're going to blow it up."
"Kirk's got his money, and he's going to bury the evidence," Casey growled, words almost lost under Morgan's cry of being the king of the world.
"King of the world," Bryce muttered, shaking his head. "He's an idiot." Harsh though his words were, his hand was gentle as it found Chuck's shoulder. "I can't believe I'm going to have to save that moron's life."
"They're loading the missile launcher onto Kirk's boat," Sarah announced, nodding towards the activity.
"They're going to follow them out and use it," Casey guessed. "They'll take out the yacht."
"The one with Morgan on it?" Chuck asked, already knowing the truth. "Little buddy."
"I'll create a diversion," Sarah offered, glaring at the ship.
"I'll get the guards," Casey added. "Chuck-"
"Come with me," Sarah interrupted, grabbing him by the hand.
.
.
Sarah stood outside Kirk's boat, calling out for the billionaire. She was invited on board, Chuck taking his cue to run up like the jealous boyfriend he - or rather Carmichael - was supposed to be.
"Well, well, well!" Chuck cried, disbelieving. "I see how it is, Sarah. How could you do this? After everything that I've done for you. After all that I've given to you." Sarah nodded towards Kirk, wordlessly telling him to draw it out more. "The house! The house in the Hamptons! Or how about the summers in South Africa, or the winters in Gstaad?"
"You don't own me, Charles," Sarah replied coldly. "Lon knows how I really feel. And he won't abandon me for weeks on end to spend time with his frat buddies!"
"Oh really?!" Chuck cried, eyes wide. "Do you have any idea how stressful it is to run a company? Hmm? The long hours, the endless meetings? And do I complain? No!"
"Look, I really don't have time for this," Kirk interrupted, Chuck seeing Bryce sneak onto the boat.
"Oh, yes you do," Chuck glowered, narrowing his eyes. "I know what you're up to-"
A splash interrupted their distraction, Sarah taking her cue to begin kicking ass. Then everything moved really quickly, Sarah ran off to continue being a badass and Kirk shot a missile between Chuck's legs and Chuck made a mad dash for the remote, catching up with Bryce and his other handlers on the top deck.
"The rocket is guided by GPS software," Chuck explained quickly. "All software can be reset." He worked as fast as he could, trying not to watch the missile heading for his oldest friend. The remote bleeped helpfully, Chuck breathing a sigh of relief. "That's it."
"You did it, Chuck," Sarah beamed, watching the missile swerve away from the yacht.
Chuck laughed giddily, unable to believe it.
"Chuck, where's the rocket heading now?" Casey asked, the missile rapidly changing course.
"I don't know," Chuck replied, except be kinda did.
"It's coming for us." Bryce said what they were all thinking. "Buddy, can you send it away from us?"
"I'd need another Target with GPS coordinates," Chuck cried, wracking his brains. The only thing that came to mind would probably end up with him hiding behind Bryce while Casey tried to kill him. "Casey. What about your car?"
"No!" Casey cried, eyes wide.
"Tell him what the GPS coordinates are for the Crown Vic," Bryce ordered, eyes fixed on the missile.
"Tell him, Casey!" Sarah cried, backing him up.
"7-1-4-7-7," Casey gritted out, Chuck entering the numbers quickly. Then there was nothing to do but watch the rocket destroy Casey's beloved car.
"I hate this assignment," Casey muttered.
Bryce, on the other hand, smirked. "I love this assignment."
.
.
They got back to the store in time for the holiday party to begin. Casey was sullen and silent, mourning the loss of his dream car, and Chuck had a nice heart-to-heart with Morgan about his feelings for Anna. But, the best part was when Sarah came over to him. She looked tired and a little sad but still as beautiful as she had ever been. Part of him, a part growing smaller by the day, still wanted to kiss her, but the rest of him just smiled.
They didn't say much, but Chuck watched her walk away with the alarm clock he'd bought her knowing that they'd be okay. She'd never be his one in a million, but she was going to be a friend he was never going to let go of. And, speaking as someone who already had two one in a billion best friends, Chuck knew how precious that was. A miracle worthy of the season.
Chuck let himself be pulled back into the swing of the party, pulling out all his dorkiest dance moves - the robot, always a favourite. Bryce tried vainly to get him to do literally anything that he hadn't pulled out at the many parties their frat had thrown, but eventually gave up, seemingly content just to laugh and let loose a little.
And, Chuck hoped, that since they'd already had their holiday craziness, the coming Christmas would be everything they deserved. A proper break from saving the world and dealing with spy induced craziness. And, if it wasn't, at least Chuck got to spend it with the people he cared about. Just as it should be.
