A/N: At the risk of sounding like Chuck: I am so terribly sorry that I took so long to get this chapter up. To make a very long story short, the project at work that wasn't supposed to spool up until the end of the month got moved to—you guessed it—the beginning of the month. That, coupled with some issues I had getting this chapter in somewhat presentable shape, resulted in me taking forever.

Another big thanks to all the reviewers from chapter 3, and again: glad you enjoyed the last chapter. That said, this is the last chapter for the story as a whole. (More on this at the end.)

I don't think I'll ever stop finding random typos in all of the chapters, but the scattered ones I did find are fixed; the normal McDuck disclaimer applies, though I didn't proof this one over as closely as I normally do, so I super apologize for any stupid typos. I'll try to proof it again later today or tomorrow.

-.-.-.-

Sarah hadn't moved any from her position on Chuck's legs, and Chuck was making no effort to move her along. Both were still racing through all the professional implications of what they'd discovered—a possible multinational coalition against the US—and the emotional implications of what'd just happened—a definite make-out session after an avowed attempt to behave. Sarah was about to speak when the passenger side back door quickly, but silently, opened. Casey, looking no worse for wear, tumbled in, pulling the door shut just as silently. He was greeted with Sarah's shirt at his feet and one of her throwing knives nearly in his head, the knife embedding in the seat back where Casey's head had been a moment before. Seeing who it was, and his shocked expression as he took in the clothing-festooned interior of the SUV, she offered a small shrug.

"Sorry about the knife."

She then continued on with what she was planning on saying before Casey entered the car, pointedly ignoring him picking up her shirt with one finger and holding it at eye level while shooting her a look.

"We've got to call in a support team to help us take this place down. We've lost the element of surprise, and if the precision of the visitors we just had are indicative of all the guards' training as a whole, things might get a little…dicey with just the two of us. Especially when we're not sure how many guards there are."

Swiping her shirt off his finger before he could even blink, he ended up giving a small grunt.

"Fine. I'll call it in while you get dres…"

Sarah had already shed Chuck's shirt, slid into her own, and was dialing before Casey could get the rest of the snub out. As Sarah called in, Chuck had taken to massaging his temples a few times with his fingertips in an attempt to stop from his head from throbbing while he talked...and in an attempt to block out Sarah moving around so much.

"Casey, just so you know. Flashed on the three guards that came over to check out the car. One was Fulcrum, and the other two were from other countries—China and Russia. None of them are rookies, either."

A noncommittal grunt was all Chuck got in reply. Turning his head as best he could so he could actually see Casey, Chuck noticed him intently staring down Sarah. Casey's warning about reporting them, given only that morning at the Buy More, suddenly popped into Chuck's head. It was then he realized. Oh shit. He knows. He knows he knows he knows. Please please please let him stay quiet…

"So, what happened in here? Get a little restless, did we?"

Or not. He didn't know how to even begin answering that one.

"The alarm went off, Casey. We had to improvise."

Oh thank God. Chuck hadn't even noticed that Sarah had gotten off the phone. Sensing that Casey was about to say something else, she cut him off with a cool glare and single-finger wag.

"Not now. Backup will be here in five minutes…"

Yes, please, not now, she thought. Taking out a warehouse full of enemy agents I can do. I can't do talking about this.

"…and we've got to move the car before they come back. Chuck, do you mind driving around the block?"

He moved to comply before the impossibility of what she was asking dawned on him. Is she kidding?

"Uh, no, I don't mind. But, uh...unless you want me to drive blind…?"

She had been staring down Casey, but Chuck's tone caused her to look back at him without thinking. Their eyes connected ever so briefly, but enough to make Sarah totally forget what Chuck had asked.

"I'm sorry, what?"

FOCUS, for the NINTH TIME IN THE PAST FIVE SECONDS!

Chuck slightly fidgeted before reluctantly answering. I can't believe I have to say this.

"I can't see the road with you…there. So—can you move, please?"

…I'm still sitting on top of Chuck. Shit. Her positioning meant, among other things, that she was not only impeding his field of vision, but his ability to operate the pedals as well. Not even wanting to think about the ammunition that Casey now had (In case the scattered clothes weren't enough, Walker?), she wordlessly moved over to the passenger seat, managing to do so gracefully and without bumping into the monitoring equipment…or into Chuck. Fighting the blush triggered by that last thought fairly successfully, she settled into the chair sideways as Chuck quickly started the car and slowly pulled away from the curb. The silence that dominated the car on the drive to the warehouse had returned, but was laced with an unspoken tension not there previously. Only after they had driven around for a few minutes, right before she got out to coordinate the raid with the backup team, and with Casey already hovering outside of her open door, did she utter a somewhat terse word or two.

"Chuck. I will say this once: stay. in. the. car."

He didn't even want to look over to see if there were real, will-burn-you-to-touch-them flames coming out of her eyes, because he was positive that they'd be there. Her tone was not an amused one. Smoke coming out of her ears also seemed highly plausible. Holy crap, go go gadget hyperactive agent mode, much? Man.

"Got it. Staying in the car…"

He muttered the last part after she'd already shut the door.

"…under pain of immediate death, as opposed to imminent death."

-.-.-.-

Going up against multiple international spies meant that the raid was not an easy one. While the only casualties were the thugs present, half of the backup team was wounded in the fight. Ultimately, the warehouse was taken over, Chuck was brought in, and the computers present were assessed. His initial take was that his location was correct: all the files copied by the virus were on the computers located in the warehouse, and that none of the files had been sent anywhere else. Preferring to err on the side of caution, and figuring what Beckman would say, he was working on checking that nothing had been sent elsewhere. He'd have answers for them all in several hours.

Interacting with Sarah while checking the computers had been slightly tense, but not obviously so. Both of them had kept busy and as far away from one another as possible, neither wanting to risk slipping in front of so many other agents while both were working on a near-hair trigger. Once they entered the car, away from the others, not to mention a small space AND the scene of the crime, the tension was much more noticeable. Casey did nothing to help alleviate it as he drove, rotating his accusatory look between Sarah in the front seat and Chuck in the back via the rear-view mirror. With the tension amplifying his headache, Chuck ended up clamping his eyes shut and resting his head against the cool window glass, attempting to freeze the raucous drumline in his head into submission.

The tension at Casey's had initially been just as high, but progressively got better as the debrief continued. After Chuck made a beeline straight for Casey's medicine cabinet for some much needed Advil, both Casey and Sarah looked at him with concern. That in itself lessened the tension in the room. The residual tension still made him feel as if he was about to pop, and as soon as Beckman came online, Chuck was talking a mile a minute before anyone could stop him. His increased enthusiasm as he went on, in part to the much more bearable headache, ended up putting everyone at ease. He ended up saying everything much faster than either agent could have—since you skimped on certain details, opined the voice in his head—not letting Beckman get a word in edgewise with his nervous-fueled chatter.

"…so, I'm checking to see if the files were sent anywhere else, I'll start working on the author of the virus again later today, and the people still at the warehouse are running searches for you guys to see if the virus snagged any classified files, and that's really i…"

An all-too-familiar chirp cut Chuck off in midsentence. His cell phone was ringing. …since when am I so popular?

Casey let out a full scowl, taking a menacing step toward Chuck before controlling himself. Sarah ground her teeth and did her best to look impassive. That goddamn phone again! Next time I get my hands on it, if I don't snap it in half, I'm changing the ringtone.

He glanced down at the caller ID, did a double take once he saw who it was, and wildly motioned everyone to be silent—even though he was the one talking when the phone rang—and answered it.

"Hey sis."

Ellie sounded tired, but happy overall, even if she was slightly surprised to hear how alert Chuck sounded.

"Hey yourself. Just got home from work and saw your car and Sarah's car out front, but your bedroom door's open and I noticed that the room's empty. Where are you guys?"

Crap. He had forgotten that Sarah's Porsche was still parked outside from earlier. His eyes snapped up and caught Sarah's, the message transmitted surprisingly clear: uh oh. Starting to pace around the apartment, his free hand started telegraphing his thoughts as he responded. He was completely oblivious to the fact Beckman was on the phone as well, and she was looking more and more grim as she listened to who was on the other end of the call.

"Oh, you know. We decided to go for a walk."

The surprise in Ellie's voice was even more obvious now.

"…at four in the morning?"

Oh of course AT FOUR IN THE MORNING. What better time to go for a walk your extremely beautiful fake girlfriend? He started frantically gesturing Sarah over, whose attention had been divided between watching Chuck and watching Beckman. Stopping dead in his tracks, he tilted the phone so she could hear as she drew near with a quizzical expression on her face. He raised his eyebrows and jerked his head toward the phone a few times as he overemphasized his answer.

"Wow, really? We totally lost track of time, didn't we, sweetie?"

Leaning in slightly to answer, she ended up accidentally brushing against Chuck's arm. Each jumped a mile and ended up unintentionally recoiling from the other, both suddenly out of breath. Chuck was looking at her intensely, unaware that he was hilariously still holding the phone about three inches away from his head. She focused her attention on the ceiling as she took a few deep breaths, willing her heart to stop racing. Definitely was not anticipating that. The tension was suddenly back in the room.

Quickly looking over at Casey and Beckman, she was relieved to find them both unaware of what had just happened: Beckman was still focused on her phone conversation, and Casey was intently listening to Beckman's whispered end of the conversation. Snapping her eyes back to Chuck, she realized Ellie was still on the other end, waiting for an answer. Hurry up and spit something out! Taking one more deep breath before she did so, she took a step toward the phone, consciously making sure that there would be no more accidental contact.

"Oh absolutely. It's so nice out tonight."

The sentence came out much less firm than she wanted it to. Well put, Walker. Christ. At least you didn't say anything about Chuck being adorable. The slight breathlessness wasn't lost on Ellie. She let out a squeal so audible that it caused Casey to turn around and look at them, the flinch visible on his face.

"You two are too cute! Devon gets off shift in a few hours—how about I make breakfast-for-lunch for us all later, since it seems like you guys will be sleeping in late, too?"

Oh no no no. The same bed with Chuck? Tonight? Bad bad bad plan. She couldn't stop her eyes from growing wide, and started shaking her head a little too quickly. Fortunately, Chuck was thinking the same thing. Same bed would be REALLY bad. Particularly after the accidental brushing. His stammer broke the worst of the tension, but the undercurrent remained.

"Uh, I don't think Sarah was planning on staying the night…"

He could just imagine Ellie's eyes narrowing.

"Chuck Bartowski, it is 4am in the morning. You're going to make your girlfriend drive home late at night in LA after keeping her out until the wee hours of the morning?"

Sarah scrunched her eyes shut and tried to take a few more calming breaths. What had to be said was all too obvious, especially after Ellie brought it up, but she was trying to steady her voice before she did so. Sneaking a quick peek at Chuck, he had his eyes firmly shut. He, too, seemed to know what the best answer would be.

"I wasn't planning on staying, but if you want me to…"

His answer was much more rapid than she thought it would be.

"Of course I want you to."

With their 'official' side conversation complete, Chuck put the phone back to his ear, not even noticing Sarah's slight gape-mouthed expression at the speed of his response.

"Breakfast later sounds great. I'll let you get to sleep, though."

Another squeal and a 'good night' later, Chuck was off of the phone and walking toward the front door. Only working on a few hours' sleep was now hitting him like a ton of bricks. Beckman was now off the phone as well and looked rather unsettled.

"If you guys don't need me for anything else, I'm going to go. That alright?"

Oddly, Beckman looked relieved that Chuck was ducking out early, and spoke before Casey or Sarah could.

"That's fine, Mr. Bartowski. Nice work tonight. We'll talk more later. Agent Walker will be over soon."

The praise caught him offguard, as did Beckman's comment about Sarah, but he managed to stutter out a response as he opened the door.

"Oh, uh…thanks? And Sarah, I'll leave the window open for you."

Not even turning around to see her give a slight nod as she resumed her position next to Casey, Chuck pulled the door shut behind him and started across the courtyard. I need more Advil. And a very, very cold shower.

-.-.-.-

Chuck was no sooner out the door than Casey started.

"General, I feel that it is my duty to inform yo…"

Sarah's heart stopped. Is he really doing this?

The vehemence with which Beckman cut him off surprised them both.

"Not now, Major."

Seeing their shocked faces, her own expression softened somewhat as she sighed.

"We might have a serious problem."

Beckman was silent after that, deep in thought. When she started talking again, any vestige of her prior concern was gone.

"Mr. Bartowski's account of the evening was fairly complete. While the portion about an international coalition against the US is troubling, I don't think we need to go over the entire evening again. Was there anything he missed?"

You're going to dangle a "we might have a serious problem" in front of us and then act like nothing's wrong? What the hell! Casey started talking, overriding Sarah's previous thoughts about Beckman's sudden mood shift. Oh shit, here we go again…

"No, ma'am. I was only going to say how useful the Intersect really was on this mission, that's all."

A distracted nod came from Beckman. Sarah looked over at Casey surreptitiously before answering herself.

"I second that, General. Chuck was invaluable."

"Excellent. Good night."

The connection cut off before either of them could utter a similar closing. Sarah immediately wheeled around to square off with Casey.

"OK, Casey, what gives."

He shot her an odd look while heading over to the computer desk.

"I don't know what you're talking about, Walker."

Going to make me spell it out, are you. Fine. She calmly strode over to the computer desk and slammed both of her palms on the surface with a bit more force than was probably necessary. At the very least, she now had Casey's attention.

"Out of the blue this morning, you threaten to report me to Beckman. Tonight right before the raid, we essentially had a staring match in the car after the alarm went off—And after you figured out Chuck and I were making out, but I'm not spelling THAT out—and you stare me down the entire way back from the raid. Yet, you don't utter a word to Beckman tonight during the debrief about ANY of it. So, I'll ask you one more time: what gives."

Out of all possible Casey reactions, Sarah would have never guessed the reaction she got: Casey actually relaxed before chuckling, pouring himself a glass of scotch, and then settled into his easy chair before answering.

"I threatened you this morning because having to stand and listen to Bartowski talk geek made me want to kill someone."

Sarah had now relocated herself so that she was standing in front of the chair, but off to the side. Her face was a mix of skeptical and puzzled. Casey took a long swig from his glass before looking right at her.

"This morning, Bartowski pissed me off. That was the first threat I could think of that didn't involve killing him. Tonight worried me because I couldn't tell whether it had an effect on either of you after it happened. To try and figure it out, I decided to bring it up blatantly and stare you both down the entire way home. For the record, it didn't seem to be bothering either of you so much that it stopped you from doing your jobs. I know this wedding is screwing with you both. I see it. And I also see that it's getting worse. You need to deal with it before it does start messing with missions, or else I will report you."

I don't believe it. Is Casey being…human? She continued to give him the skeptical look.

"You're telling me that you had no intention of reporting me?"

Gruff Casey reappeared. He shrugged while draining the rest of the scotch from his glass.

"No. It'd be too hard to break in another CIA agent as a partner. Like I said, though—let it mess with the missions, and then it'll seriously be game over."

Which is what I thought he'd say all along. Her skeptical look was finally replaced by a small smile as she started walking toward the door. The smile slowly faded and a sigh escaped her lips as she stepped out into the courtyard and quietly answered Casey, so quietly that he almost didn't hear her.

"Guess I better go deal with it, then."

-.-.-.-

Chuck was already showered, changed, and in the process of clearing the piles of textbooks and papers off the bed when she silently stepped through the window. She had waged a personal battle with agent mode on the walk across the courtyard, and was still not sure who had finally prevailed. Not turning when she entered, he continued to make small stacks and move them to the floor, allowing Sarah ignore her own inner turmoil and to simply watch him as he did so. She couldn't help but notice that he looked inexplicably sad.

"What's wrong, Chuck?"

He obviously hadn't heard her climb though the window, and was startled as he turned to face her. The small smile he gave her was tinged with the same sadness as before.

"Nothing. Just moving some stuff around. Not sure if you needed something to sleep in or not, so I put a t-shirt and pair of pajama pants on the desk chair in case you did."

That was the most BS answer ever. She tried again.

"Is your head still bothering you?"

The question surprised him.

"What? Oh, no, I'm fine. The headache was just because I haven't flashed in a while. The Advil helped, and I'll be totally fine once I sleep.

If he doesn't want to talk about what's wrong, fine. She neutrally nodded, moving toward the chair to gather the clothes he'd set out before going to change.

They were now situated as far apart as possible—Chuck on the far side of the bed, Sarah near the desk chair—and a rather loaded silence had fallen. With the distance now between them, Chuck blurted out what was wrong.

"Sarah, I need to know. What happened in the car. Did that…that whole thing, did it happen just because I just happened to be the one there…or because it was me?"

Well doesn't this sound oddly familiar. Last time we had this talk, we were standing in front of a Christmas tree after a non-bomb explosion... Sitting down in the chair while slightly sighing, she focused on his closet door while answering in a firm, but kind, voice.

"I would have done the same thing regardless of who it was sitting in the driver's seat. Because of how everything occurred, it was the logical ploy to avoid being caught."

That was the answer he was expecting. He tried his best to keep his expression impassive and continued to stack books as he dealt with being rejected yet again. The answer confirmed his worst fear. The slips are just because of the wedding, not because of me. I knew it.

"BUT," making his entire head snap toward her, "the way that everything…," pausing for the right word that wouldn't make her more self-conscious than she was already, "…progressed…that's because it was you and not someone else."

...was there a particular reason you had to say that all so explicitly?

The grin that spontaneously broke out across his face negated the effects of pausing for the right word. She had never felt more self-conscious in her life, but she now knew exactly why she said it all, the grin soon spreading to her face as well as she slipped out to change.

That grin is exactly why.

Upon entering the room again, the bed was cleared, and Chuck was in the process of pulling down the bed's covers, huge grin still plastered on his face. The silence in the room was much more comfortable, Sarah being the one that broke it this time.

"What are we going to do about all these slips?"

The grin turned to panic. Shit, totally forgot that those damn things started all of this.

"Wait, did Casey say something after I left?"

"Yes and no. He said something to me about it, not to Beckman."

Chuck looked at her, waiting for her to elaborate while she crawled on to her side of the bed and got comfortable. When no elaboration came, he rolled his eyes as he threw the sheet over her before climbing into bed himself, specifically staying on top of the sheet. Only one of us has had the benefit of a cold shower…

"And what did Casey say?"

She had been ready to protest the sheet barrier between them, but as soon as he had also gotten into bed, she decided that it was maybe a good idea after all: she'd been too busy noticing him a scant foot and piece of fabric away, and completely hadn't heard his question. Damn it. This is why the same bed tonight was bad.

"Hmmm?"

Surmising the source of the problem, he propped himself up on his side to put a bit more space between them and asked his question again. He got an answer the second time.

"Casey's position is that if the slips start interfering with missions, then he'll tell Beckman."

"What's your position on the slips?"

Oh. shit. Mimicking his position, she used her elbow to balance on one side while facing him, trying to stall for time.

"…I honestly have no idea."

His eyebrows shot up. Did she just not play the handler/asset card? There's a first. The only response he had was to repeat her answer in the form of a question.

"You have no idea?"

"No idea."

Agent mode had managed to reappear somewhere along the way, and was screaming at Sarah to leave it at that—to just turn off the light, and let the conversation die. Had Sarah not looked directly into Chuck's eyes, agent mode probably would have won, but instead, she found herself quickly spewing out the entire dilemma that had been festering inside of her since the slips began.

"The slips themselves aren't bad—they solidify our cover. What's bad is that we both seem to feel something when they happen, and the something is getting to be harder to ignore. Aside from the professional concern with that problem, you've made it abundantly clear that we have no future, which makes it particularly hard to swallow. So, yes, I have no idea what my position is on the slips."

Seeing his eyes widen at the gravity of what she'd said, she mentally played back her speech, and her eyes were soon as wide as Chuck's. …I just said that all. I really said that all. And I just sort of admitted feelings for Chuck. Dammmmmmmmmmn it. Not able to run anywhere, and not able to deal with him at the moment, she settled for falling on to her back and pulling the sheet up over her head.

The conversation had suddenly taken a very serious turn. In telling her own reason for feeling so conflicted, she had managed to hit Chuck's dilemma square on the head as well. And that is exactly why I feel so bad about slipping in the first place—the fact that I'm officially the one keeping us apart. He ended up scooting over toward her side of the bed, and found his forehead resting on her sheet-covered one before he could stop himself.

"Would you have an idea what your position was if we possibly had a future together?"

Feeling her become very still, he kept talking before he lost his nerve.

"The slips aren't easy for me either. When I said we didn't have a future, it's not because I didn't want us to have one. It just didn't seem feasible, with the non-cover lives we both lead. And maybe it's still not feasible, but it's becoming increasingly hard to think that with…everything. So, maybe it's feasible. Maybe it's possible."

There. That sounds as close to the truth as possible without making me sound like an opportunistic scumbag. Sensing that she was trying to move, he slid back over to his side of the bed, and soon found a pair of clear blue eyes peering over the edge of the sheet, looking at him. Needing to make the moment a bit less serious, he grabbed the comforter and made it so that his eyes were the only part of him poking out, too. His actions resulted in a laugh from Sarah—thank God—and a sheet-covered punch in the shoulder. He played up the moment a bit more when he fake howled in agony and rubbed his shoulder—though that part was a bit less fake—making her laugh even more. His voice was muffled by the blanket when he spoke.

"I completely had that coming."

Hers was considerably less muffled by the sheet.

"Damn right you did. Easier than killing you, too."

She waited a moment before returning to their previous topic.

"Were you serious about…that?"

He opted for a serious answer, though the tongue-in-cheek one about what "that" was, exactly, was tempting.

"Yes. Does it help?"

And by "help," do you mean, "make things incredibly more complicated but make me feel incredibly better"?

"I'm not quite sure. Can I sleep on it and let you know?"

"Absolutely."

He didn't want to make her feel worse by telling her that he had to sleep on it, too. What did I get us into now? Stifling a yawn, and with their main conversation clearly over for the night, he reached over and turned off the light, careful not to have another accidental bump while doing so. Plunging the room into darkness and relative silence, he cracked one last joke as he burrowed under the comforter fully before the silence became too pregnant.

"And hey, I promise—I'll even keep my hands on my side of both the bed AND the sheet tonight."

That earned him a smack with a pillow, along with laughs from them both. When the silence came again, it was a comfortable one, both of them deep in thought. Those thoughts soon lead to sleep.

-.-.-.-

"Wait, what's the difference between the contemporary ornate centerpiece and the contemporary modern centerpiece, again?"

Sarah almost had orange juice coming out of her noise with Chuck's question—his tone was innocent, but she could see the mischief dancing in his eyes. Ellie didn't notice, and launched into the difference between the two again with the utmost seriousness, as if lives depended on their decision. The primer on reception hall wedding table centerpieces gave Sarah time to reflect on how the day had gone thus far. The morning—or afternoon, really, she thought—had started out with a knowing sort of silence between them both, but had quickly broken down into the same normal banter and kidding that simultaneously acknowledged the big question mark from last night.

The banter and kidding had grown when breakfast-for-lunch had unintentionally morphed into another planning session as they all sat around the dining room table, complete with yet another wedding-themed chick flick (27 Dresses, this time). They'd made quite a bit of progress, and only a few of the previously far-too-many unplanned details remained, the question of centerpiece style being one of them.

With Ellie still going on and on, Chuck leaned over and whispered to Sarah in a completely kidding tone, snapping her out of her thoughts. He nodded toward the movie, where an entire bar full of people, complete with people dancing on top of the bar counter itself, were singing along to Elton John's "Bennie and the Jets."

"So, would I have had more luck last night if I belted out 'Bennie and the Jets' first?"

What the hell is he talking about? Focusing on the movie (rather than the fact that his lips are inches away from my ear), she soon discovered what he meant: after the bar scene, there was a car make-out scene that ended up turning into a…

She snapped her head toward him once she saw exactly what he meant by "more luck." Once her heard had turned, he had started waggling his eyebrows up and down with the official grin across his face. Attempting to specifically keep some distance between them, she answered with as serious of a voice she could muster. A smirk still snuck out.

"While that would certainly be a sight, I told you before: the grin and eyebrows work just fine, neither of which you employed last night."

The grin managed to get bigger and the eyebrows stayed up for a beat. Sarah felt her resolve crumbling and began to close the gap…

…when his cell phone decided to ring. She didn't even give him the chance to make the decision to ignore the chirping, pulling away with an outright pissed look on her face.

"Ohhh no, not again. That's it. Give me the phone."

He comically started hopping his chair toward the other end of the table as he got the phone out of his pocket to see who was calling. When he looked down to check the caller ID, she made her move…literally, launching out of her chair in an attempt to grab the phone. The only result was a short grappling match while sitting in the chair itself, with Chuck using his longer arms to hold the phone out of reach, followed by the chair tipping over and spilling them on to the ground. Wrestling on the carpet, the end result was Chuck being pinned with his back to the carpet…and Sarah being pinned to Chuck, with him managing to snake an arm around her sometime during the course of the struggle. The phone was in his other hand, outstretched above his head, ever so slightly out of her reach.

It was only once she stopped trying to squirm out of Chuck's grasp that she saw what she'd managed to maneuver them into this time. Her face was right above his, and with how he had her pinned, she was solidly against his stomach. Ellie had stopped talking about centerpieces long ago, and both her and Awesome were ducking under the table to watch the showdown. Chuck's eyes were extremely apologetic, knowing that he hadn't helped any, and meekly handed her his cell phone, which had long since stopped ringing. She let out a small growl as she shut it off, pocketing it herself before looking back down at Chuck.

Cell phone. Chair. Carpet. Damn it to hell. Goddamn wedding. Yet again.

Allowing him to move, he surprised her by sitting up and placing a tender kiss to her forehead, murmuring a "sorry, wasn't thinking" as he did so. Before she could even react, he was standing, offering her a hand up. As he righted his own chair and pushed her own in, giving Ellie his opinion on the centerpieces as he did so, the recent swearing at all "c"s made her realize.

Chuck starts with "c," too.

-.-.-.-END-.-.-.-

Sequel: Chuck vs. the Watcher (see author profile)

A/N2: I just realized while writing thank yous that I managed to hit two of Arathorn's three possible "c"s. That was an accident, but certainly an amusing one at that.

Thought this would be better to put down here rather than spoil the fun before the chapter was even read. I purposely left it a little open-ended for a possible sequel; and no, I do not have an entire sequel plot in mind at the moment, so there may not be one at all. I honestly could not give you odds of there being one if you asked me. If there is a sequel, it will not be for a long while—late April is a realistic estimate, unfortunately, with this project getting moved up. But, at that point, episode canon may have overridden everything (wishful thinking?), so we'll have to see. There may be intermittent one shots (…serious one shots, not one-shot stories that evolve into non-one shots) between now and then, but that'll depend on whether I think of anything worth writing and actually have the time to write it. Nothing new there.

I'm still unsure about whether I like how all of this ended up coming out. I guess my uncertainty from the first chapter has carried through all the way to the end. Regardless, thank you again so much for reading this entire thing, and I am extremely glad that most reviewers seemed to enjoy it. If, perchance, you didn't enjoy it, I vow to do better next time.