Chuck Versus Eureka

Disclaimer: I don't own any material contained within this story. All copyrighted content remains the property of the person, people, or organization that holds the copyright. This story is solely for fun.

AN: This is only intended to be a silly, little three or four chapter story. Please, don't take it too seriously. Thanks. :)

Chuck checked himself in the mirror. No missed buttons. No crease lines. No stains. His tie was straight, and he'd finally managed to figure out the proper way to wear a cummerbund. He was good to go, and just in time. If they were on time, Morgan and Casey would be coming by to pick him up in just a few minutes. And while Morgan could become sidetracked occasionally, Colonel John Casey was always on time.

Chuck walked into the main room of the condo he usually shared with Sarah - usually being every day except for those in the past week. Funny, he'd never pegged her for a superstitious woman... but it seemed that there were a few traditions that even Sarah Walker - CIA super-spy - believed in. And this was apparently one of them.

Chuck sighed. He missed her. He longed to hold her again, to cuddle up with her in front of the TV after returning from a successful mission. He missed lying next to her in bed, waking up beside her the next morning... as well as the other things they'd do in bed together.

But the separation period was nearly over; and after today, nothing would come between them ever again... or so the nerd-herder, turned pacifist spy, thought as he approached the TV that was currently blaring some advertisement about a new Men's baldness treatment.

Apparently, when he'd staggered off to bed, half asleep already, last night, Chuck had forgotten to turn the thing off. Well, he'd be sure to fix that before he left. After all, there was no need to leave the chatter box running for two weeks with no one watching it.

Chuck reached the TV and stretched his arm around the side to push the off button. He had no idea where the controller was and wasn't about to waste his time looking for it, no, not now, not when what he'd dreamed of for years was so tantalizingly close. But before he could push the button, the screen flashed rapidly. Then Chuck's eyes rolled up into his head, and he fell forward, unconscious, to the floor.

"Come on, Buddy, wake up," Morgan pleaded as he lightly tapped the side of his best friend's face. Chuck moaned slightly, but otherwise refused to stir. "Oh, Casey, this isn't good. If we don't do something, Chuck's going to miss his own wedding! Then what will he do?"


"What will Sarah do?"


"What will they do?"


"What will become of them? Wha-"

"Grimes!" Casey finally roared, stopping the best-man's babbling mid-word. "Relax," the government trained killer reached into his outer jacket pocket and retrieved a small cylinder. He unscrewed the top, and extended it towards Morgan, who was still huddled over Chuck's unconscious form. "Just hold this up to his nose for a couple of seconds. Stuff's strong enough to wake the dead."

Morgan eyed the large man strangely for a second or two. "Do... you always carry smelling salt to a wedding?"

"An NSA agent has to always be prepared for any eventuality," Casey quickly replied.

"Always be prepared," Morgan mused aloud. "Hey, isn't that the cub-scout motto?"

Casey growled menacingly, and Morgan let the subject drop. He held the cylinder up to his unconscious friend's nose and began lightly tapping his cheek once more. "Come on, Chuck. Wakie, wakie, eggs and bakie."

"Wakie, wakie, eggs and bakie?" Casey repeated with a bizarre mixture of surprise and scorn. "Of all the... HEY, BARTOWSKI, WAKE UP!"

Suddenly Chuck began to stir. "I... ah, what happened?"

"Funny, that's what we were going to ask you."

"I... I don't know," Chuck replied as he sat up. "The last thing I can remember is reaching to turn the TV off. And then the next thing I know, I'm lying on the floor with you two looking down on me."

Casey huffed. "Groom faints right before his own wedding," he commented half under his breath. "You getting cold feet, Bartowski?"

"What? Never! I love Sarah with all m-"

"Yeah, yeah," Casey interrupted as he reached around Chuck's side and lifted the groom-to-be to his feet. "Enough of the romantic gobbly-gook. If you want to make your wedding, we'd better get going. Wouldn't want to give Agent Walker the chance to come to her senses now, would we?" the NSA agent teased in a sardonic tone, drawing glares from the other two men in the room.

The church was beautiful. Morgan, Ellie and Awesome had done an amazing job of combining both Chuck's and Sarah's tastes together into a wonderful wedding theme. A red velvet carpet with golden Klingon symbols stretched down the center aisle. White bows in the shape of tie-fighters decorated the ends of each pew. And the tune to Duel of the Fates, playing on a traditional church pipe-organ, could be lightly heard in the background.

Yes, Chuck reflected, the church was beautiful... but it paled in comparison to the figure now gliding down the center aisle. Agent Sarah Walker would always be beautiful in Chuck's eyes, but as she slowly, gracefully moved down the aisle in her white, puffy, fru-fru wedding dress with her long train and her thin, lightly sparkling veil, the sight of his future wife literally took Chuck's breath away. He grabbed Morgan for support as he strained his breathing through his teeth in an attempt to recover and keep from upsetting the ceremony, and everyone had the decency to pretend not to notice the loud, sharp intake that split the church air for a moment.

Sarah reached the front of the church and stood facing Chuck, and the latter - a truly hopeless romantic - found himself lost in her dark blueish-green eyes as the priest began his wedding speech. Meanwhile, Chuck's best friend couldn't help but get a little caught up in the moment as he locked longing eyes with one of one of the ladies near the front row, Alex McHugh, Casey's daughter. And in that moment the bearded, little man realized that he wanted this for him and her as well. He wanted to stand before the same pulpit with Alex, as the two of them were joined together for the rest of their lives. Morgan pictured it, a very similar wedding that would follow, not too closely on the heels of Chuck and Sarah's. Then a low rumbling sound snapped Chuck's best-man back to the here and now, as he turned to his right and found himself staring up at his love's father.

"See something you like, Grimes?" Casey challenged in a warning tone, one just barely loud enough for Morgan to hear him. The seasoned NSA agent didn't want to disrupt the ceremony. But he had guessed what was going through the smaller man's mind, and he did want to make it clear that he wasn't ready to give his blessing to such a union... at least not yet.

Meanwhile the priest reached the part of the ceremony where the bride and groom took their vows, and Chuck was finally able to pull himself out of the ambient pools that were his own lover's eyes enough to hear the words being spoken once more. "Chuck Bartowski, do you take this woman, Sarah Walker, to be your wife, to have and to hold, from this day forward, for better, for worse, for richer, for poorer, in sickness and in health, to love and to cherish, till death do you part?"

Chuck smiled happily and without any reservations prepared to utter the phrase he'd longed to say to Sarah since before he'd even known her. He opened his mouth, then shivered slightly for a split second and responded, "Lug."

"What?" Sarah suddenly asked, her eyes widening in confusion.

Chuck's brow furled. Hadn't she heard him? Hadn't the priest? Why wasn't the ceremony continuing? They must've heard him. After all they were scarcely a foot away. Even still... well, 'better safe than sorry', Chuck figured as he opened his mouth once more. "Lug!" the man in love proclaimed with even more vigor.

Sarah let out a little mock chuckle. She kept her smile firmly screwed to her face, but out of the side of her mouth, the girl whispered, "Okay, Chuck, this isn't funny anymore."

Chuck's face fell into a genuinely puzzled expression. "Lug," he declared again. "Lug. Lug. Lug!" he desperately insisted as he turned to the priest. Everything was falling apart, and the poor guy had no idea why.

Seeing the expression on her husband-to-be's face as well as the desperation in his tone, Sarah's initial reaction of shock and insult quickly gave way to fear and concern. Something was obviously wrong with Chuck. And what was worse, she had no idea what it was.

"I'm sorry, Son, I'm afraid I don't understand," the priest replied solemnly.

"I think he's saying 'lug'," Morgan cut in.

"Lug? But... but what does that mean?" the priest asked in confusion.

"It's Klingon for 'Yes' and/or 'I'll do it'."

"What? What's a Klingon? And why would he-" the priest began to question but stopped mid-word as Chuck shivered again, then grabbed his wife-to-be and pulled her against him. And suddenly the bride and groom, not yet married, were tango-ing down the center aisle of the church. Well, Chuck was tango-ing anyway; Sarah was just more or less being dragged beside him with a look upon her face that bordered on hysteria.

The look upon Chuck's face wasn't so different as he wondered why he couldn't stop his legs from moving, or make his arms release his partner. Everyone in the church was staring at the two in utter shock. The priest, an elderly man, looked as if he might faint. And through it all, Chuck had no idea why his marriage, which should've gone off without a hitch, had suddenly turned into a scene out of candid camera.

Well, hope you all got a kick out of the first chapter. Please let me know what you thought of it, okay? If you think it's worth the effort to continue, or I should just concentrate on my preexisting fics. Anyway, thanks for reading. Hope you got at least a few laughs out of it.

Have a good day, and God bless.

Metropolis Kid.