#i may have been four years late to this party but by golly i am still being fed

[arthur-kilgore]

It says a lot about charles smith that even though it’s been four years since his debut with literally no new canon content in that time there’s still new fan content about him p much daily

[lazywriter7]

to toasts, and schooling

“So I’m stuck there asking the obvious, which is, ‘why do you think you should marry her?’” And Tony’s trying to hold on to the lighthearted tone, he was, but it’s hard to not let sincerity sneak in when you’ve got Peter Parker watching you deliver a toast in his honour, luminescent in his happiness. When you’ve got a crowd of people you love and respect hanging on your every word – and Steve Rogers at the back of said crowd, glass untouched in his hand; gaze undimmed by time, as steady and unwavering as it was twenty years ago. “And Peter answers back, the most assured I’ve ever seen him, ‘Because I want to’.” 

“I’m looking for the groom. Have you seen him?”

The server opened his mouth, and shut it again. Hitched his tray of Captain America themed canapes a little higher, like readying himself to fling it into Tony’s face at the slightest hint of danger. “Uh. This is an anniversary party?”

“Being the organiser slaving after this shindig for ages – I am aware.” Tony parsed out a smile, perilously polite. “The groom?”

The server blinked wide eyes. “I think I saw him near the fajitas?”

“Brilliant, of course you did.” Tony spun around on his heels, ignoring the flinch and subsequent wobble the server and his tray executed. The fajita table was on the far end of the hall, and it took fifteen whole minutes of ducking and weaving (okay fine, the crowds parted before him a la Moses-and-the-Red-Sea, but it still took fifteen darn minutes) to find the man of the hour and creep up behind him. Tony crossed his arms, realised it rendered him incapable of actually drawing said man’s attention, uncrossed them again and tapped the guy on his shoulder, if a bit imperiously.

“You were supposed to be here an hour ago.”

It was still a jolt to the brain, a brief shot of cognitive dissonance on watching him turn – that square jaw, more well-shaved than baby-smooth, a head of hair that had truly outgrown its teenaged-mop phase, the black lines of a suit that didn’t look loosely propped on a wire hanger, but rather like it…fit. Those eyes would always remain the same though – idealistic spark and impossible kindness twinned in dark irises.

Nevertheless, Peter Parker remained a sneaky bastard who wouldn’t answer a straight accusation. Instead, his thin brows went winging to his hairline, eyes flitting up and down Tony’s frame dubiously. “You look…shiny.”

(Agh, the voice shitted him the most. Tony missed that reedy, high-pitched wonder of a larynx, dammit.)

“Needless to say, if tomorrow’s headlines are going to be Unmarried silver fox presides over protégé’s ten-year anniversary , you bet your wedded ass I’m gonna lean into it.” Tony smoothed down the lapels of his own three-piece – dove gray, just a few shades lighter than his hair, with silver pinstripes. Shiny was one word for it. Awesome was another.

“You need to stop saying that.” Peter turned back to his little paper plate boasting a fajita tower of over six inches, easy. Hell, to have a metabolism like that. The last time Tony had indulged in Mexican, he’d been toilet-ridden with gastro for over a week. “Last time MJ misheard you and now she keeps threatening to weld my ass shut.”

Ah, those innocent days when Peter would rather spontaneously combust than use the a-word in front of ‘Mr Stark’. Tony pinched a scrap of cheese from Peter’s plate, the latter barely blinking an eye. “Well, who told you to enter holy matrimony at twenty-one, then?”

Peter stared at him flatly. “You did.”

“Damn right I did.” Tony affirmed with pride, scarfing down the cheese in a single gulp. Mm, cotija. “And still no grandkids for Uncle Tony.”

“Genealogically, that’s an impossibility.” Ooh, big word – though there was a tiny bean-scented burp between syllables three and four. Peter cleared his throat, faintly pink.

There was another tempting little cheesy strip hanging out the bottom fajita, Tony’s fingers were positively itching. To cheese or not to cheese? Gah, who cared, you only lived an average of four times, being a caped crusader. And so through a mouthful of snatched dairy and more than a little beef: “The main thing, and don’t you think I haven’t noticed you avoiding it with your ten-dollar words – you were supposed to be here an hour ago.”

“There was a call to Assemble.” Peter replied, perfectly straight faced.

Tony’s eyes narrowed, even as he proceeded to lick up the grease lingering around his fingernails. “I didn’t hear of it.”

“Not sure if they still keep you in the know, but I tend to do the calling these days.” The swagger was nowhere near Stark levels, but unmistakeably present. It was brilliant.

“Was that an ‘old, useless relic’ dig?” Tony approximated a glare to the best of his ability. “And after all I did for you when you were a midget.”

“Nothing like being called ‘Underoos’ to legitimise your identity as a superhero.” Peter was demolishing the tower faster than it had piled up, till only draggly, soggy bits of vegetable remained.

“Fine. I suppose I’ll just have to ask Kamala about this mysterious call to arms–”

“Fine, I misplaced my cufflinks, jeez .” Well-tailored as they were, Peter’s sleeves still flapped with his gesturing, aforementioned cufflinks glinting under the light – blood-red hour glass shapes embossed on plain obsidian circles. “Just because she hangs on your every word with all the fangirling and ‘Mr Stark’s–”

“Golly gee, I wonder who that reminds me of–”

“ Tony .” Mock frustrated as the tone was, Peter was still grinning. Tony could feel his heart swell a million sizes.

Peter commenced tugging his sleeves back over his wrists, straightening them conscientiously, fingers lingering absently on the smoothed curve of the cufflinks. “Speaking of – did Nat say she was coming?”

“With an Itsy Bitsy Spider mug, no less.” Tony cast a last, disconsolate look at the fajita table and turned away. “Also still can’t believe she lets you call her that.”

“Just spider solidarity.” Peter positively beamed, and Tony could have recited the next words in his sleep because it had to be the fifty thousand and seven hundredth time he’d heard them, “She first taught me how to–”

“Fight, I know. What with all the positive word-of-mouth, the Black Widow’s lessons on ‘Strangling: Why use fingers when you’ve got a perfectly serviceable pair of thighs’ have been overbooked for the past decade.”

“Not that I don’t mentally note it down every time you say stuff like that–” Peter straightened up noticeably, smile broadening till it went from charming to no-one-panic-but-we’ve-got-a-DEFCON-5, “but I’m going to have to ask you to save it for the toast. Which you’re making right now.”

“Why do I have to–”

“Because I’d rather not explain to my wife that I was over an hour late to my ten-year anniversary party looking for my lucky Black Widow cufflinks.” Peter was emitting at the rate of approximately five words per second – impressive really. Moments like these, Tony kinda got why they called Peter his spiritual heir. Also – holy shit that was MJ stalking through the crowd towards them, resplendent in red and calmly murderous.

Peter grabbed at the first glass that floated by on a server’s tray and shoved it into Tony’s hands. His fingers curled around the glass stem on autopilot – ooh, Dr Pepper – even as he stumbled a few steps ahead, being not-so-gently-nudged at the back by a certain someone who needed to keep a lid on the super strength, darn it.

“Okay, so we’re apparently having a toast now.” He hadn’t even spoken that much louder than his usual volume, but it was like a ripple effect: the clusters of people around him immediately quietened down, and forty seconds in, Tony was counting, the entire hall was hushed and staring at him. It was scary, almost. Humbling.

“Right, so. I’d have kept you guys waiting, but a certain spider-themed superhero isn’t feeling very heroic right now – so here I am, delaying impending doom with a toast.” Tony lifted his glass a bit recklessly to a now-still MJ, halted in her warpath about twenty metres away. She was smiling though, so maybe homicide wasn’t on the horizon. “To be honest, I’m getting a Terminator-esqe ‘I’m gonna be slaying twenty minutes in the future anyhow’ vibe from his lovely spouse, so this may all have been in vain.”

“Timing ain’t too bad, the press are outside anyway so you’ve skipped the hassle of calling a conference to break news of the divorce.” Tony acceded, and scattered laughs broke out in a sea of shining, amused faces. God, this felt surreal. “See, no, you’re doing it wrong, that pause was meant for the awkward silence. Maaaybe a scandalised gasp. Instead you’re all just smiling at me like I’m some deranged uncle at a wedding, which fair, I am.”

“But you know me. You know me and you know this toast isn’t getting any better from here on out, yet you’re standing there anyway all happy ears instead of booing me off. And that’s…that’s pretty special.” From the corner of his eye, Tony could see Peter quietly creep up to where MJ stood, cufflinks catching the light again as he scratched the back of his neck awkwardly. Could see MJ’s arched eyebrow, the little quirk to her lips as her fingers slipped into the crook of her husband’s elbow. Tony smiled. “And I guess that’s what we’re all here to celebrate. Something special.”

And then, like it had been perfectly choreographed though Tony couldn’t have dreamt up this kind of symmetry – there was movement by the door. Tony’s eyes flitted over for a single instant, enough to catch the tall figure that had just ducked in; candelabra light gleaming off his favourite blue shirt and grey-blonde hair.

Tony’s free hand reached up to tug at his own lapels, fingers smoothing over the outline of a chain through the silk of his shirt. “Ten years ago, this young little upstart, newest addition to the Avengers, vanishes in the middle of a post-mission clean up. I attempt to track him down, for reasons that have everything to do with a touching, almost parental concern; and not influenced at all by how brain-devouringly boring clean up duty is.”

Chuckles everywhere, though Tony’s gaze went winging back to the rear of the crowd, where a familiar figure had appropriated himself a glass and was leaning against one of the pillars. Prime posing location, right next to one of the biggest candelabras – Tony highly approved. “As expected, I find him hanging out, upside down, from the newly refurbished A on top of Avengers Tower. Goes there every time he has a decision to make, probably thinks all the increased bloodflow to the head is going to make it work better – I don’t have the heart to tell him otherwise, poor lad.”

“It’s there, both of us sitting on the middle bar of the A like a park bench, that he tells me, ‘I think I wanna marry MJ’.” The good-natured laughter so far quietened down; everyone’s gaze redirected to the couple in question – but Peter and MJ were looking at him, soft-eyed and perfect.

“Of course, being the elder, mature adult that I am, my mind immediately flicks to the practicalities.” His tones veered towards something almost serious – for all of three seconds, because he was fooling nobody. “Namely, the location of MJ’s burial place and whether necrophilia is still illegal in the state of New York, though a part of my mind does think that Peter could do better than a moonwalking has-been. I don’t get too far beyond, ‘I didn’t think you even liked Thriller’ before I am summarily reminded of the other MJ, Peter’s cool, alternative-culture girlfriend.” And there she was now, rocking a red jumpsuit and a self-engineered wedding band, with a ‘damn straight’ smirk curling up her lips. Sure, Tony was a spectacular specimen of his time, but hell if this new generation wasn’t something else. “Y’know, in that she doesn’t give a rat’s ass what people think, and believes in a fair, just society and the betterment of human kind.”

“So I’m stuck there asking the obvious, which is, ‘why do you think you should marry her?’” And he’s trying to hold on to the lighthearted tone, he was, but it’s hard to not let sincerity sneak in when you’ve got Peter Parker watching you deliver a toast in his honour, luminescent in his happiness. When you’ve got a crowd of people you love and respect hanging on your every word – and Steve Rogers at the back of said crowd, glass untouched in his hand; gaze undimmed by time, as steady and unwavering as it was twenty years ago. “And Peter answers back, the most assured I’ve ever seen him, ‘Because I want to’.”  

The words were coming slowly, shaped by Tony’s inadequate voice with as much significance, as much unadulterated earnestness as they deserved. “He says, ‘We share things in common, but… it’s more that it already feels like we’re a team, me and her. We don’t always get each other, but we listen. We always listen. We have our fights, but we try to communicate through that and we don’t make excuses.” It all sounded so…inexcusably simple, narrated by a man who knew through time-tested experience how much it wasn’t. And there was at least one other person here today who knew it too. Tony cleared his throat, soft and uncharacteristically unobtrusive. “We’ve lived with the best and worst in each other. And I love her.’”

“And that’s when it strikes me, an honest-to-Thor epiphany right in the middle of this twenty-one year old rugrat prattling to me about love.” A wry, amused sound escaped his lips – memory hazy and rose-toned, but still so vivid. “ ‘Cause you see, I’d been expecting a laundry list of perfections – ‘oh MJ so smart’ and ‘oh MJ so pretty’ and ‘she makes me crack up like a loon’. But Peter didn’t say any of that.”

“Peter wasn’t telling me how great MJ was. He was telling me how great they were together.” Tony’s chest was squeezing on itself, the sheer pride that surged within a little difficult to contain. “And that’s a detail that we long-in-the-tooth, stodgy adults – with all of our realism and all of our practicality – forget so easily. To put it in sporting terms: it isn’t about the player of the match.” And it was the most involuntary thing in the world, to raise his eyes again and meet Steve’s steadfast eyes, that littlest curve of his lips from across the hall. “The love of your life, the most incredible person you’ve ever known. It’s about the team.”

“So I turned to him and said, ‘well, I don’t know about love. But all that other stuff you mentioned sounds pretty fantastic’.” Peter was leaning into MJ’s side now, with all the light of the world in his eyes, while she gave his elbow an affectionate squeeze – Tony blinked rapidly, eyes burning with a curiously sweet sting. “And he goggles at me and goes, ‘you’re the only person I’ve asked who thinks I’m not crazy.’ Of course, cut to ten years and now, we’re gathered here commemorating the occasion solid proof was finally obtained that I’m smarter than the rest of you sane, mature, non-epiphanised people.” And glassy-eyed or no, Tony still toasted the air with more than a slight touch of glee, voice hoarse and delighted all at one go. “I told you so.”

“So while we’re all standing around, let’s also raise a glass to Peter and MJ – who somehow, despite belonging to the same species as the rest of us who screw up on a daily basis – have managed to do everything, absolutely right by each other.” His jaw might have cracked a little, from the ache of grinning at the man who was dearer to him than any child he could’ve ever had – all the while the best guy he’d ever known, who loved him, watched on smilingly from the distance. Maybe it was just the Dr Pepper talking, but this felt like one of the moments all those other moments had been leading up to. “I think you might be what marriage is supposed to look like. And here’s to ten more years of schooling us in being awesome.”

(Extract from a longer fic here )

[davidcarner]

Sarah vs The Life Unexpected Ch 11, Sub-Missions and Knives

A/N: Welcome back to the "Mollyverse".  Thank you all for the reviews and messages.  I apologize but the updates will be less frequent the next few weeks due to Christmas, family, and me playing Daddy Uber.  The next update will actually be the Christmas story, which has two more chapters to go.  Set back, and get ready, for Sub-Missions and Knives

Disclaimer: I don't own Chuck, but I do have a butcher block of knives

Chuck eyes flew open. There was a terrible noise, and an elbow caught him in the face. Not hard, but enough to make his eyes water. He turned to see who had assaulted him and all he saw was a bare back and blonde hair flying. She turned around wielding a knife, which made Chuck freeze. Sarah saw Chuck, and stopped mid-turn. The sheet fell down to her waist, and Chuck's brain didn't know what to do. She was holding a knife, she was naked, and he was supposed to be a gentleman and not look. A grin started to cover Sarah's face as she thought she actually saw smoke coming out of his ears.

"Are you going to turn off that awful sound?" Sarah asked. Chuck wanted to speak, move, do anything, but his brain was shot. She grinned at him. "Guess I'll have to do it," and began to reach across him to turn off the alarm clock.

"Gah," he managed. Sarah got the alarm clock turned off, and slowly moved back, when two hands caught her just under her ribs. He began to slowly trace his fingers up her sides. "Two can play that game," he said into her ear. She thought her brain might shut off. He bent in to kiss her where her neck met her collar bone when they heard a voice.

"Molly, the door's shut, don't go in there," Emma said.

"Did you lock the door?" Sarah whispered, flying back under the covers. Chuck shrugged, trying to remember.

"At one point," he whispered back. "But then I opened it."

"I locked it at one point this morning."

"I know, I was there," he replied. She gave him a look. "Sorry, I opened it back, who shut it the third time?" Sarah shrugged.

"I have no idea," she admitted. The knock on the door came and the two shared a look. "Come in?" she said, not sure what to do. Emma opened the door carefully, noticed they were appropriate and stuck her head in, smiling.

"Chuck, Molly would like a word with you, when you have a minute. Sarah, Casey called, you have a meeting with the general this morning," with that she started to leave, paused, and turned back. "Sarah, it's not good form to murder someone else's alarm clock."

"She do that often?" Chuck asked, knowing he really shouldn't.

"We've gone through four," she said. "In the last six months." Chuck turned to look at her, she shrugged, innocently.

"Mommy, I need to talk to Daddy by himself!" Molly yelled.

"Would you like me to take the kids to school?" Emma asked, fighting the grin on her face.

"Naeiou," Sarah replied. "The alarm clock went off to go to work, and that's what we're going to do."

"I wasn't sure what it was for," she said, unable to resist and left. Chuck turned to Sarah.

"Did your mom just suggest…" he couldn't finish that sentence. Sarah nodded, grinned, and leaned over to kiss him. After a few seconds, Chuck pulled back, knowing that if he didn't they were going to be late. "Work," he croaked. Sarah leaned her forehead against his.

"Carina is going to bug me all day," Sarah said, trying to hold back a giggle.

"Great, I'm going to be the subject of gossip all day," Chuck said, not mad at all. Sarah hit him playfully in the chest.

"I guess I better get up, so you and Molly can have your talk," she said. She found his PJs and tossed them to him, as he tried to get dressed while giving her some privacy. "Really?" Chuck peaked over his shoulder, saw she had a robe on and turned toward her. She had an amused expression on her face.

"I'm trying to be respectful," Chuck replied. She walked over and kissed him.

"You're sweet," she said, heading for the door.

"Golly gee, ma'am, thanks for making me feel like I'm eight." Sarah turned and looked at him. Chuck got the feeling that she was a lion stalking her prey and he was fresh meet.

"Chuck," she said softly. "We both know I don't think your eight," and with that she walked out. Chuck gulped. Molly stuck her head in the room.

"Got a minute?" she asked.

"Just one, and then I need to get ready for work," he replied. Molly shut the door and came and sat down beside him on the bed.

"I'm really sorry," she said. Chuck was a little taken aback. "I pushed things too hard, and I want to make it better, but you know I'm going to want to be around you and Mommy at night, and Clara is too, so I had an idea if you'd like to hear it."

"Sure."

"I have a sub-mission for you."

"You may spend too much time with Casey," Chuck said, grinning.

"Listen, I'm serious. You can't get time here alone with her, but what about lunch? She has to eat, doesn't she? And, since Morgan was involved with my plan, and you know how good he is about picking out food, you can rope him in. Maybe just bring her lunch today, a picnic tomorrow, she loves chocolate eclairs, maybe one for breakfast one day."

"I like it, simple, yet thoughtful. How'd you get so smart?"

"People don't always notice a five-year old around. They say things and I just remember."

"Okay, lunch today?"

"Medium-rare cheeseburger, extra pickles," Molly said.

"You sure?" Molly looked almost insulted.

"Would I lead you wrong?" Chuck threw his head back and laughed at that. He pulled her in for a hug. "I owe you a video game night still. Don't think I've forgotten."

"Let's get Clara's party planned first," Molly replied.

"I've actually been thinking about that," Sarah said, coming into the bedroom. "Didn't mean to eavesdrop."

"Uh-huh," Molly said. She leaned over to Chuck. "She says that, but she always manages too." Chuck laughed at that as well.

"Well, how about I go get showered and dressed, while you two hash out the plans."

}o{

Chuck sat quietly in the vehicle on the way to work from preschool.

"You think Molly and Mrs. Wood will do anything but talk about us today?" Sarah asked, amused.

"I think she'd plan our wedding if we'd let her," Chuck said, not even thinking about the implications of what he'd just said. Sarah turned to look at him as it dawned on him. He just put his face in his hand.

"I finally get everyone to calm down about us, and then I go and say that," Chuck groaned. Sarah laughed and rubbed his shoulder.

"I know what you meant, and you're probably right," she agreed.

"Where are you going?" Chuck asked.

"Taking you to work, and getting my car."

"I thought we had a meeting this morning about Carmichael Industries?"

"I have to talk to the general first, Sweetie," Sarah replied.

"Okay, two things, one, don't you think as a company about to be taken over I should be there to represent Intersect Games so as not to throw suspicion about who Charles Carmichael is? Two, I'm totally fine with you calling me sweetie." Sarah made a turn in traffic.

"I kinda forgot about Intersect Games," Sarah admitted. Chuck tried to look hurt. "I'll make it up to you."

"Just don't tell Morgan, he won't be a sucker like me," Chuck said grinning. He pulled out his phone and sent a text. A few seconds and a ding later, he smiled. "I invited Morgan to come to the big meeting telling him it was all about financials. He begged out."

"It has nothing to do with financials," Sarah said.

"Sarah, if he comes to this meeting there is no telling what he will say, and there will be no acquisition, and then there will be no financials for Intersect Games," Chuck said seriously.

"I'm still shocked how two guys so smart are so bad at running a business," Sarah admitted, pulling into Burton Industries. Chuck got out and walked around the front of the vehicle. He looked at the building and Sarah stood there beside him. "What are we waiting for?" she whispered.

"Just steadying myself for whatever is going to happen in there," Chuck replied. "While I'm good with people, when it comes to my business, both professional and personal, it's been a while since I let anyone in." Sarah slipped her hand in his. He looked down at their hands and back up at her.

"Thanks for trusting me," she said, smiling.

"Always," he replied, and pulled up their hands, kissing hers.

"I'm here, this is no big deal," she said. "We make this cover, and you're safe."

"Who's the general?"

"Diane Beckman, NSA," she said. Chuck gulped and seemed to look a little pale.

"You sure she doesn't know who I am?"

"She knows who Chuck Bartowski is, but she doesn't know who Piranha is," she said, smiling. "And, I plan on keeping it that way." Chuck nodded.

"Let's do this," he said, and they walked inside together, holding hands.

}o{

Thirty minutes later, Chuck wanted to crawl under the table. Beckman had told them there was no reason the NSA should get involved and help them out. Sarah and Casey used every trick they knew and in the end, Beckman said they had nothing to offer unless they wanted to reenlist. Beckman signed off ending the hopes of Carmichael Industries. Sarah shook her head.

"She's mad at me for taking you," she said to Casey.

"I never thought she'd stoop that low," Casey replied.

"Word is the NSA and CIA have their hands full with rogue agents," Carina said. "She probably has no idea who to trust." Sarah looked at the flash drive that contained the encryption.

"The funny thing is, that drive could probably fix most of her problems," Sarah said.

"Which also means she really can't create a cover identity for Carmichael," Casey added. Chuck looked up.

"So let me get this right, all she could really do is look the other way if I made a cover identity, but she won't because she'll get nothing out of it?" Chuck asked. Sarah nodded.

"If Carina's right and they are facing rogue agents, she's desperate to even trust us to come back," Sarah added. Casey grunted.

"Not to toot my own horn, but she knows I'd never betray my country and I'd never work with someone who would," Casey said. Chuck's mind was racing. He knew how to fix this. He reached over and picked up the flash drive. Sarah watched him.

"What are you thinking?" she asked. Chuck grinned.

"You trust me?" Chuck asked.

"With my life," Sarah said softly. Chuck walked over and hit the screen reestablishing the link to Beckman, Casey's eyes nearly bugged out of his head. Beckman's screen came on, and she stared at the monitor.

"I thought I made myself perfectly clear!" Beckman said reaching to disconnect the call.

"Perfectly clear you don't have a clue of what's being offered to you," Chuck replied. Casey sucked in air. Sarah's eyes opened wide, and Carina just smiled.

"Whatever you did to that boy last night must have been something," Carina whispered to Sarah. Sarah couldn't help but grin.

"Do you know who you are talking to?" Beckman asked.

"Someone who's getting beat at every turn and is so paranoid she's refusing a saving hand," Chuck replied. Beckman studied him.

"You've got one minute." Chuck shrugged.

"You've got one minute," he countered. Beckman couldn't believe what she was hearing. "Listen, I have it on good authority you're battling rogue spies, personally I don't care, but this," he said holding up the flash drive. "Could fix many problems. This will stop 95% of those searching for information. Without the proper password, agents won't be able to access information. This is the first thing Carmichael Industries will market, and we're willing to let you have it for free, just to help us set up. If you do, then maybe we can help you. You get a lead on a certain site, our hacker can get in, get out, with the information you want."

"You have no one with that kind of skill," Beckman scoffed. Chuck rolled his eyes.

"We have many with those types of skills. I'm the worst of the bunch and I'm better than anyone you have. I swear I should just hang up," Chuck said turning toward the power button. He caught Casey's eyes and gave him a look that he hoped Casey would interpret.

"Wait, Chuck," Casey said, trying to figure this out. "This is our country we're talking about. She just doesn't understand." Chuck paused, nodded, and turned back to Beckman who was becoming very interested.

"Is your computer on the NSA network?" Chuck asked.

"Of course it is."

"And, you believe it is secure?"

"Absolutely." Chuck scoffed and turned to Sarah.

"How long?" he asked her, a twinkle in his eye.

"Ten minutes?" she replied. Chuck looked insulted.

"Five," Casey answered. Chuck nodded. He walked over and pulled out his laptop out of his bag.

"General, I'm going to hack your system in five minutes or less to prove to you how bad your security is. I expect full immunity from what I'm about to do." Beckman thought, and then answered with a sinister smile.

"If you're caught I'll disavow you, but if you can do it, full immunity," she replied. Chuck stared at her.

"Caught?" he asked. Beckman grinned.

"Scared, Bartowski?" she sneered. Chuck laughed.

"You can go tell your staff what's about to happen, and they'll never even know I was there." He turned to Sarah. "Will you start a timer?" Sarah pulled out her phone. "Go," he said, and his fingers began to fly. "General, are you're lights in the office connected to the internet?" he asked. Beckman started to answer when it suddenly got very dark in her office. Chuck just smiled. Sarah covered her mouth with her hand to keep the general from seeing her laugh. Beckman's printer started to print off "General Becky" in huge font. Chuck kept typing. "Ohhh, that's a big hole there. I'm gonna fix that, free of charge." Chuck typed some more. Beckman's computer monitor went black, and suddenly it said, Chuck – 1, Beckman – 0 on her monitor. Chuck stopped typing. Two minutes were left on the clock. Chuck sat there staring at her.

"Bartowski, fix it!" she yelled.

"Are you going to help us?"

"Who are you?"

"That's for you to figure out, General," he replied. "Now do we have a deal?"

"Deal," she said. Chuck looked at Casey, who nodded. Chuck hit enter, and everything in Beckman's office went back to normal. Chuck stood up. "I'll leave the rest of the negotiations to you and the Sarah," Chuck said. "Good day, General," and Chuck walked out of the conference room with out looking at anyone or saying a word. As soon as he rounded the corner out of sight, he quickly found a restroom. It was a few minutes before his stomach was empty, his nerves calm, and he felt back to normal. He washed his face, and rinsed his mouth out from the terrible taste.

"Nerves?" Casey asked. Chuck nearly jumped through the ceiling. He hadn't heard him come in or come up beside him. Chuck could only nod. "Good idea not drinking your thinking juice in front of her."

"What most don't know is it also helps keeps me calm," Chuck answered.

"Stomach settled?" Casey asked. Chuck shook his head.

"No, but it was empty, so… Casey I took on a General, what was I thinking?" Chuck asked.

"That you knew the only way to get this to work was to show her how wrong she was. It was stupid, moronic, and very brave. You were the only one who could save us, and you did. She'll never find out from me that you're Piranha, you have my word," he said, reaching his hand out. Chuck shook it. Casey noticed he was still a little unsteady.

"I just got us put on NSA missions didn't I?"

"Not exactly, a few maybe, but nothing you or Walker have to be in the field for. If you're behind the computer, and Sarah's running Ops, we should be fine."

"How good is Sarah in the field, Casey?" Casey looked at him, and decided if he could ask the question, then he could hear the answer.

"When she was in the field, she was one of the best. They called her the Enforcer, the Ice Queen. There was no one better, but Molly changed all of that. Molly helped her find her soul before she lost it, and Sarah helped Carina and I find ours. The spy business is a nasty, soul-sucking life, but we were the best. Now, we help everyday people, and I can't believe I'm saying this, but I love it. Know this, if someone tried to take you, Molly, Clara, or anyone Sarah loved…" Casey grunted a laugh. "I wouldn't like their odds of staying on this earth for long."

"Hey what are you two doing in there," Sarah yelled from the door.

"Getting my makeup on straight," Chuck answered.

"Bartowski, you're a moron, but you're alright," Casey said.

}o{

Chuck sat in his office reading the reviews of the game about to be released. He couldn't believe how high the scores the game was getting. He sat back, somewhat relived. He noticed movement around the door.

"What, Morgan," Chuck said. Morgan put his head in the door, smiled, glided to the chair in front of Chuck's desk, and sat there.

"I need details," Morgan said. Chuck just stared at him. "Come on, Chuck, you're glowing. Alex just raved at what you did to a NSA General."

"It's probably from throwing up from talking to Beckman," Chuck replied. Morgan remained unfazed.

"Chuck," he began, paused, took a deep breath, and decided to let him have it. "In the past nine years you haven't done one thing that required a risk. It took me five years to convince you to do this, and if hadn't been for that seed money you never would have agreed."

"It was the Awesomes," Chuck grumbled.

"Well, of course it was the Awesomes! Today you did something that was such a risk I hardly even recognized it as being from you, but then, I remembered. There was this guy, who would do anything for anyone, and I realized you haven't changed, you just finally let yourself be in a situation that could help other people."

"Morgan, I did it mostly for me," Chuck answered. Morgan put his hands on the desk and looked right at his friend.

"If this merger or whatever doesn't go through I have no job," Morgan said. Chuck sat quietly for a moment, uncomfortable, and finally nodded.

"If this game isn't a success the doors close," Morgan continued.

"We're getting amazing reviews," Chuck countered.

"Chuck, buddy, come on, you're good at this, but you, you my friend are made for more. Sarah Walker, has helped you find yourself, and as your best friend, I so approve. Why do you think I wanted it to happen so bad?" Chuck couldn't resist getting his buddy back for what he had done to him for the past several weeks where it came to Sarah.

"She knows," Chuck said, just watching his friend. Morgan looked around worried. He leaned in.

"Who?" he asked, his voice rising several octaves.

"Sarah."

"About, what?" his voice still many octaves too high.

"Project OMAHA," Chuck answered. Morgan went pale. "How you came up with the name." Morgan adjusted his shirt collar.

"You covered for me, right?" Chuck just looked at him.

"So far. I've been given a sub-mission," Chuck said softly. Morgan calmed and nodded.

"The general, right?" Chuck just looked at him. "Molly," he said softly, but insistently.

"Molly is behind everything?!" Chuck exclaimed. "This is too much!" Morgan tried to shush him.

"Look, that kid is scary. I'm sure Sarah's been training her." Chuck just looked at his friend. "How can I help? The sub-mission?" Chuck leaned in.

"Since my nights are filled by children, I need to try to use lunch to date her," Chuck said. Morgan nodded.

"See, she's good, isn't she? Picnic!" he said, snapping his fingers and pointing at Chuck. "That will take a day or so to organize. What about today?" Chuck leaned in.

"Funny you should ask," he said.

}o{

Sarah sat at her computer, working. Her stomach made a noise, but she didn't have time to go out and get anything right now. She loved her boyfriend, but she thought he would give her a stroke, heart attack, and some other physical aliment all at the same time with the stunt he pulled this morning. Beckman was in, Chuck would probably have to create the cover identity to be safe, but it was going to happen. Carmichael Industries would soon be a thing. Her stomach let her know that hunger was now a thing. She found herself sniffing at something delicious smelling, coming down the hallway. She looked up, almost thinking she could see the aroma in the air, when she saw her favorite site in the doorway, grinning, holding a bad that was emitting that smell.

"Hey, Beautiful," he said.

"Hey yourself," she said and then her stomach growled.

"Sounds like part of you is more excited to see me than other parts," Chuck said. "Mind if I come in?"

"Is the burger coming with you?"

"Well, I should hope so, it yours." Sarah just stared at him.

"I may eat, then lock that door and quench another hunger," Sarah said, grinning. Chuck gulped.

"Don't you have a lot of work to do?" Chuck asked, looking around nervously. Sarah laughed at him.

"Don't make me chase you down," she said, with a coy look on her face. Chuck walked over, sat down in the chair across from her grinning. He handed her the bag. She opened it, took one whiff and moaned.

"I think I'm jealous," he said, smiling. Sarah chuckled. "Do you have a knife?" Sarah reached down and pulled one out of her ankle hostler.

"Okay, that's impressive, a little intimidating, and I'm more turned on than I really should be," Sarah burst out laughing with that one. She cut the burger in half, took hers, and began to scarf it down. She was about three bites in, trying not to moan again, when she noticed Chuck not only had not touched his, but was trying not to laugh.

"Aren't you going to eat?" she asked when she had managed to finish chewing.

"You know, the way you're going to town on that, I'm afraid I'd lose a hand if you decided you wanted that other half," Chuck said. Sarah was nearly crying trying to hold back the laughter.

"Sorry, when I like something I go after it," she said, giving him a look as she bit into her burger. Chuck's ears turned red. "Okay, changing the subject, you nearly gave me a heart attack today with what you did."

"Sorry, it was the only way I could see us getting what we were after," Chuck said, shuffling in the chair.

"No, you don't understand. I get it, and it was the right move, it's just…"

"Sarah, that's me. That's the guy you brought out that's been trapped inside. I hope you like him." Sarah shook her head, grinning.

"Chuck, I love him. And, if he doesn't pick up his burger in the next five seconds, I'm going to eat his part too." Chuck grinned and motioned for her to take it. She reached down and started in on it.

"So tomorrow, I was thinking if you have a little time we could leave the office for lunch." Sarah nodded, still chewing. "Do you want me to leave the two of you alone?"

"Nope," she said, finishing off the burger. "I'm done with it." She gave him a look. "Now I need to go exercise."

"I think that's some sort of sexual harassment." Sarah leaned in.

"Isn't sexual harassment the unwanted advance?" Chuck thought for a second.

"Definitely not sexual harassment," he replied.

"You do know this will only get worse once we start working together?" Sarah asked. Chuck shook his head. "There is a supply closet down the hall."

"The one you caught Carina and Casey in?" he asked. She nodded. "No, thank you," Chuck said, shaking his head.

"There's one on your side of the building too. Seriously, you want a tour?"

"Not yet. Let's make sure it all actually happens first," Chuck replied. Sarah nodded.

"Then, I hate to be this way, but the sooner I get all of this done the sooner you can move in." Chuck stood up and started to leave. "Oh, speaking of moving in, Emma's been moving things in all day apparently."

"Oh?" Chuck replied. "I thought we were going to help her."

"Emma can be a little stubborn," Sarah said.

"Runs in the family," Chuck muttered. "Blood related or not."

"Hey," Sarah said, smiling. "I heard that."

"Love you," Chuck said retreating quickly.

"Love you. Thanks for lunch, see you in a few hours?" Chuck nodded, and headed back to work.

}o{

Sarah was just putting the final touch on the paperwork. Chuck would have to help her create the alias, but everything else was done. Her phone rang and she smiled seeing who it was.

"I was just about to call you," Sarah said.

"I need a big favor," Chuck said, nearly out of breath.

"Sure, what is it," she said straightening and preparing to take someone out.

"They want to interview us. Intersect Games. Me, Morgan. They want to interview us."

"Okay," she said, not sure of the emergency.

"I hate to ask this-"

"Chuck!" she cut in.

"Right, spiraling. Can you please take my vehicle and get the girls?" he asked.

"Okay, but what's the big favor?"

"That's the favor," he said confused. Sarah chuckled.

"Chuck, what am I going to do with you?"

"Love me forever?"

"Okay," she answered, a smile on her face. "Anything else?"

"No, Alex is taking care of the wardrobe. Sorry, we've been kinda using her in that department for a while."

"Okay, but going forward, I get some say in what you wear," she answered.

"She said you'd say that. Thank you, Sarah. I'll see you tonight. I love you."

"Love you, knock 'em dead."

}o{

Sarah collected the girls and started to the apartment. She and Emma had decided that they needed to continue to pack and bring a load over. She was thinking about how much her life had changed, and how much she loved it, when she saw Molly watching her and grinning.

"How was lunch?" she asked. Sarah smiled.

"He brought me a burger, medium-well, extra pickles." Molly made a "yes" fist pump. "He wants to do something tomorrow." Molly just smiled. "So, ma'am, what is your endgame?"

"You two married," Molly said, not one bit bashful. "You both deserve to be happy."

"He makes me happy, Molly."

"Me too," she said. "What about you, Clara?"

"Appy!"

"That poor guy doesn't have a chance," Sarah said softly. "Not that he minds."

"So about my baby brother," Molly began. Sarah rolled her eyes, but smiled. One day, there would be a baby, one day.

A/N: Hope you all enjoyed it! See you soon.

DC