Characters: Devon (Captain Awesome)/Ellie, Chuck, Casey, Sarah
Word Count: 2,055 words
Spoilers: Set after 2.22 “Chuck vs. The Ring”
Betas: ndnickerson, without_wings
Disclaimer: I don't own any of this. Josh Schwartz does. And apparently Subway now, too. ;)
Summary: The more Devon learns about Chuck, the more, well, awesome he seems. Devon/Ellie, Chuck/Sarah.
Previously: Part 1 // Part 2
“To three fantastic months.” Devon lifted his wine glass toward his wife. "And one awesome babe.”
Ellie smiled her wide, sexy smile and clinked her glass against his. “To us.”
Devon took a long, slow drink, keeping eye contact with Ellie. Her gaze never wavered. He loved the way she matched him in every way. “Isn't this so much better than...”
Ellie raised an eyebrow. “Than what?”
“... than hospital food?” He took a breadstick out of the basket to dip into the seasoned olive oil. He was really glad that he had been able to convince Ellie to come out with him tonight. She had worked a split shift today -- even though it was their three-month anniversary. Ellie didn't even think of trying to take the day off; she was that dedicated to her work. She would have brushed off this anniversary as trivial, but Devon could tell she was secretly pleased that he was making a bigger deal of it.
Ellie laughed. “You're right about that.”
“But any meal is special as long as you're there.” He reached over to give her hand a squeeze. He knew he probably sounded cheesy and overly romantic... but he meant every word. And Ellie's answering smile made it totally worth it.
Ellie looked around for their waiter to bring the main course, shoulders drooping when she didn't seem him. “I hope the Farfalle Alfresco is good tonight.” She speared a bit of lettuce on her fork and popped it into her mouth.
Devon scanned the diners around them, noting that everyone seemed to be enjoying their food. “I don't see anyone complaining.”
At the end of Devon's casual perusal of the restaurant, his eye caught on a tuxedoed man, followed by a woman in an expensive-looking dress with upswept hair, walking toward a table near the back. The man pulled out the woman’s chair with a debonair smile. To Devon’s surprise, he immediately recognized Chuck. He didn't recognize the woman.
Why wasn't Chuck with Sarah?
Was this some sort of spy mission?
His confusion must have shown on his face. “Honey? What's wrong?” Ellie began to turn in the direction Devon had been gazing.
Devon couldn't let her see Chuck with another girl! Chuck had asked him to handle Ellie -- he couldn't let him down! “Oh, no, it's nothing...” he said, speaking a little too quickly. “I--I just thought I saw the waiter bringing our food, but he went to another table.”
Ellie frowned slightly, but seemed to accept his explanation. “I hope it comes soon. I'm starving.”
Whew, he'd dodged that one. I can't let her notice Chuck before it's time to leave. As long as she keeps her back to her brother and her attention on her food...
After the food came, Devon started to sneak glances over at Chuck's table whenever Ellie was looking down. Chuck's whole demeanor was different as he spoke to the woman, leaning in to touch her knee, or to gently move a strand of hair out of her face. He had never seen Chuck so... suave. He seemed more James Bond, lover of ladies, than Chuck Bartowski, lover of Tron.
Ellie's phone rang suddenly and she groaned when she looked at the display. From the look on her face, he didn't even need to ask who was on the other end. Her gaze was apologetic when she hung up and met his eyes. “Mr. Walters is having complications. They need me to start my second shift a little early...” She gave Devon's arm a regretful squeeze. “I'm sorry, I have to cut this short.”
“Babe, I understand. Next time, it'll probably be me.” Devon stood, purposely putting his body between Ellie and her brother. “I'll get these put in boxes for you.”
She kissed him on the cheek as thanks and hurried for the entrance. Thankfully, she was in too much of a rush to look back. Devon sank back into his chair, relieved. It was hard to keep this secret! But I have to follow through on my promise to Chuck.
He glanced over at Chuck's table again and saw Chuck staring directly at him now, a worried frown on his face. The woman had her focus away from her date and was speaking into her cell phone. “Devon?” he mouthed, looking like he was about to freak out.
Devon shrugged in apology. “Sorry, bro,” he mouthed back.
Chuck started to respond, but the woman turned back to him then and he snapped back into the sophisticated gentleman's persona. He lifted the wine from its chiller and offered her another glass with a smile.
As Devon watched, she waved away the bottle and gestured behind her to another man coming up from behind. Chuck looked up at the man approaching and seemed to glaze over for a few seconds -- exactly the way he had in the car that time in the Buy More parking lot. What had he called it? A "flash"?
The woman and her new companion looked at each other with surprise and recognition. They tensed, and the woman reached into her handbag. Chuck shook his head slightly to clear it, just like Devon remembered... to find a slim silver handgun pointed at him from across the table. "Hello..." Devon could almost hear Chuck say.
Devon nearly sprang upright from his seat. He had to save Chuck! But no, he couldn't just rush over there and tackle them, not in a crowded restaurant. And surely they wouldn't kill him right here in front of all these people. He watched Chuck slowly rise from his seat and walk ahead of them, toward the kitchens.
Never taking his eyes from the trio, Devon stood casually. He gathered up his boxes of take-out, and tossed a couple of twenties on the table. Instead of heading for the entrance, he followed Chuck and his adversaries.
They pushed into the swinging doors, earning a couple of strange looks from the wait staff, but no one stopped them, as busy as it was. Devon, only ten steps behind, reached out to push open the doors himself...
And he found himself nearly yanked off his feet into a side corridor. "What the he--?" was all he managed to say before a large hand clamped over his mouth.
"What do you think you're doing, Devon?" a low voice rasped in his ear.
Devon jerked his head to the side. His captor was Colonel John Casey, dressed in a waiter's uniform. He held Devon flush against the wall, out of sight of the main dining area.
"They've got Chuck!" he tried to say urgently, but it came out as "Mm mm MMM!" under the NSA agent's hand.
Casey seemed to understand what he was saying, though. "No duh, Doctor Dum-Dum. We've got it handled." He let go of Devon and forcibly shoved him toward the dining room. "Now go home."
He wouldn't be pushed away, not like this. Not when it was Chuck in danger. "That woman had a gun, John."
Casey produced his own weapon. "What do you think we play with? Billy clubs?" He pointed the gun straight at Devon and then aimed it below Devon's waist. "Surgeons only need use of their hands, right?"
“Whoa!” Devon put his hands up, take-out bags dangling, and started to back away. Why was Casey's every response to pull a gun? “No need for that, dude. I can take a hint.”
Casey cocked his head to the side and grunted in disbelief. “Can you?”
“I’m not a moron, John.”
Casey’s raised eyebrow displayed his lack of faith.
“Turning around now...” Devon began to walk back through the restaurant, toward the doors. Behind him he heard the brief sound of the doors swinging open... but when he glanced back, it was only a waitress coming through with a tray of food. John Casey had disappeared.
Devon went outside into the pleasant August evening air. With a growing knot in his stomach, he walked toward his car, parked a couple blocks down. Would he ever see Chuck again? What would they tell Ellie? Some story about a mugging or a hit and run?
As Devon passed by the alley which ran behind the restaurant, he heard the sound of voices. One of them belonged to Chuck. “I’m afraid I don’t know what you’re talking about. I own a software development company, just as I told you.”
Chuck’s own company? What was that, another cover story? Devon pressed himself against the bricks out of sight, and crept behind the dumpster nearby. He couldn’t just leave, not when there was a chance he could help. He just prayed the plastic bags of his take-out wouldn’t crinkle too loudly and give him away...
A male voice answered Chuck, one Devon didn’t recognize. “Don’t play with us, Mr. Carmichael. I saw how you reacted in there.”
Carmichael? This must be his alias in the spy world. It certainly fit Chuck’s look tonight.
The woman added, “We thought the Intersect died with Bryce Larkin, but it appears that we were wrong.”
Interwhat? And what did Bryce Larkin have to do with this? Devon's head was filled with more questions than answers tonight.
“Inter... what?” Chuck stammered. This was the Chuck Devon was used to -- fumbling and unsure. Which personality was real?
“Your games are quickly growing old. Come with us.” Devon heard footsteps approaching and he tried to make himself as small as possible, all without moving the bags. Chuck passed the dumpster where Devon hid, and the butts of the guns trained on him became visible.
There was suddenly a female shout from the back of the alley. “Freeze!”
That was Sarah’s voice! Chuck swiveled to face her, features relaxing in relief. His captors turned as well, but one of them kept a gun on Chuck.
“Put down your weapons, now! My partner has his sights trained on you as we speak.”
The woman laughed. “And my partner has his gun trained on your precious Intersect. I wonder who’s faster on the draw?”
At that moment, Chuck noticed Devon in his hiding place. His eyebrows shot up, but he gave no other indication to the others that Devon was there. Devon gave him an apologetic smile but then nodded toward the gun with determination. If he leapt out of his hiding place, perhaps he could use the element of surprise to wrestle the gun away.
Several things seemed to happen at once. A shot rang out, taking the male hostile through the shoulder. Chuck grabbed his wrist and flipped him onto the pavement. The hostile's gun went skittering off out of reach. The female hostile tried to fire on Sarah. Sarah returned gunfire, the CIA agent's bullets pinging against the metal of the dumpster.
Chuck then lunged for Devon... snatched the take-out bags from Devon’s hands... and twirled them over his head like a sling. The food smacked into the female hostile’s head with a wet splat, and she fell to the ground, farfalle oozing down her face.
She looked up to see Sarah’s booted heel on her chest and the barrel of a gun pointed at her head. “Don’t move,” Sarah told her coldly.
Casey came out from cover and moved to handcuff her partner. “Where’d the food come from...?”
Chuck’s lips quirked and he nodded toward Devon, who was standing in view now with his arms folded proudly. “Mr... Carmichael... needed an assist.”
Casey huffed and rolled his eyes dramatically. “Way to take a hint.” He yanked the man’s cuffs closed and muttered under his breath.
Devon couldn’t be sure, but it sounded like, “Moron-in-law.”
Next: Part 4