A/N: PeterOinNYC (now a published author! Check out his new book, Every Song Has a Story) gave me a prompt and given his affinity for music, (and my love of wrestling) a song came to my mind, Judas by Fozzy.

His prompt: Chuck goes to "fake break up" their "fake" relationship when Sarah gets word she must go into quarantine due to Corona virus exposure - with Chuck!

And before you ask, I'm writing, so, yeah, fluffy is coming. (obviously takes place present day)

Disclaimer: I do not own Chuck or (at this time) have Covid-19

He sat on the fountain lip, letting the words Bryce had just said play though his head. He had to break up with her, he had no choice. For her own safety, he had to. He heard her heels, clicking on the pavement… moving quickly. Very quickly. "There you are," he heard her say.

"Sarah, we need to talk," Chuck began.

"No, you need to listen," she said, making him stand up straight. "You and I are going into lockdown. Beckman is scared what Covid-19 will do the Intersect."

"Are you serious?" Chuck asked.

"Chuck, we're about to be locked up in my apartment for 6 weeks. I don't know how to be any more serious than I am right this second."

"What do we tell Ellie?" Chuck asked.

"You're going with me, to watch over my grandmother during this time. We'll be in my apartment. No one will see us, so it will be fine."

"Sarah, I don't think this is a good idea," Chuck began.

"Chuck, for the love of God, please… It's me, or it's being put in a bunker."

Chuck stood there a second. "Think we can paint the walls at least?"

"Sorry, it's part of the contract they stay that way," she said with a shrug.

}o{

"Okay," Sarah said, as they walked through the door. He stood, holding his suitcase. She shut the door, locked it, and turned to him. "For the next six to ten weeks, this is your… our, home." Chuck noticed how extremely uncomfortable she looked.

"Are you sure you don't want me to go to a bunker?" he asked. Her eyes widened. "This is supremely unfair to you."

"To make it less unfair, you are not to have any burritos while here," Sarah replied. She crossed her arms, and gave him a look that said she wasn't budging on that point.

"Jokes on you… I had one before we got in here," Chuck replied. The look fell from her face, and she began to softly chuckle. "Thank you," he said softly. "I know this assignment is not easy on you-"

"Hey, wait, what's going on?" she asked. "There's no bugs here, and we can just… talk," she finished, the uneasy look back on her face. "Something is definitely bothering you."

"Bryce reminded me that people can get too close in these assignments, and maybe, just maybe, our cover is not the best idea for you," Chuck replied, shrugging.

"What do you think?" she asked, in a voice just above a whisper.

"Sarah… God. We both know how I feel about you," he began. "And, I have a suspicion about how you feel about me. The problem remains your job, and our… handler-slash-asset scenario."

He looked over at the couch. "That is going to get uncomfortable, sleeping on it after a while," he muttered.

"Why are you sleeping on the couch?" Sarah asked.

"Because I cannot sleep with you in a bed for six to ten weeks. I'll just lie there, stare at the ceiling, listen to you breathe, curse Bryce one minute, thank him the next, and just… Sarah… I can't do this anymore. I can't be your fake boyfriend, because I don't know how to do fake boyfriend. I don't know how to be what I need to be to make this work, and I cannot live with myself if it gets you hurt, or worse, killed." He ran his hand through his hair in frustration. "Is it okay if I put my stuff in the bathroom?"

She stood there a second, her eyes flashing different colors. Eventually, she realized she hadn't spoken, and cleared her throat. "Absolutely. For as long as you're here, consider this your home. There is no need for us to be uncomfortable."

Chuck narrowed his eyes. "I don't know that's possible, given what I just said."

"Trust me, Chuck," she said softly.

He nodded, picked up his bag and headed into the bathroom. When he was out of sight, she blew out a breath. Six to ten weeks, just her and Chuck. No cameras, no nothing. It was time, and to hell with the CIA.

}o{

Sarah reached over, took the remote out of his hand, and clicked off the TV. "We need to quit watching that. All it's going to do is freak you out," she said.

"Sarah, we're looking at more like ten weeks, if not longer," Chuck said, giving her a panicked look.

"Are you tired of being around me?" she asked, raising an eyebrow. "You have your iPad to read comics, three different game systems, every streaming device known to man. Vudu for your movies, and Casey is delivering food and supplies. What else do you need?"

"What about Ellie and Awesome?" he asked.

"Casey is checking in on them, and I'm going to see about getting a backdrop, so you can facetime Ellie and Devon," Sarah began. "Casey is also watching Morgan, and no, he's not happy about it." Chuck smiled. "Now, you have Spotify to play music. God knows I've seen all your bad dance moves."

"They're not all bad," he huffed.

"I didn't say they were," she replied with a grin. "But some are just ridiculous." Chuck laughed. "Like I said: Consider this your home."

"I sometimes go sin pantalones at home," Chuck countered

Sarah waved her hand. "Whatever makes you comfortable." He just stared at her. "I'm going to go make dinner."

"You are not going to cook for us every day," Chuck said, standing as she did.

"I wasn't planning on it. But if you want to help, follow me into the kitchen… if you dare… muwahahahah." Chuck's eyes went wide as she walked away. Who is this person? And that's when it hit him. This is Sarah. This is Sarah without cameras, without the CIA… this was who she was, and she was letting him in. She had told him to make himself at home, and she had let him in. Why? Why now? Thousands of reasons popped into his head as to why she was being this way, but one started niggling in the back of his head.

After the years of self-doubt, and taking shots at himself, the smallest part of him wondered, did she do this because he said he couldn't be her fake boyfriend anymore? He headed into the kitchen.

"Whatcha' cookin…" he trailed off, realizing the rest of that sentence probably wasn't the best thing to say right now.

She turned to him. "Seemed like you were gonna say more."

"I was," he admitted. "But I realized the rest of that sentence wasn't appropriate for our relationship."

"Well, now I have to know," she said, going to the fridge, opening the door and pulling out chicken.

"Whatcha doin… hot stuff?" he said, his voice trailing off.

"You think I'm not hot?" she asked, smirking, as she reached for a knife. Chuck's eyes went wide.

"I'm not sure of the correct answer right now," he admitted. She gave him a look and he nodded at the knife, causing an exaggerated roll of her eyes. "Of course, you're hot, but I don't really have the right to say that."

"Says who?" Sarah asked.

"Excuse me?" he replied, unsure of what was going on.

"Says who," she repeated with a shrug. "If I think it's okay, then who's to say you can't say that?"

"Wouldn't that be inappropriate?" Chuck asked. He knew he was about to push something he probably shouldn't day-one of their quarantine. But he lost that fight to his aching heart.

She put the knife in the chicken, blade first. Her hand rested on the handle, looking at him. "I would think a boyfriend should think his girlfriend is hot."

"I see," Chuck replied, their gazes locked. "For cover purposes, correct?" Sarah didn't say a word, she just held his gaze until Chuck blinked. "So, how can I help, what are you making, have you turned the oven on, don't you think it is hot in here?"

"Turn on the oven; roasted chicken and vegetables; no not yet, I'd like you to; and no, it feels fine to me," she replied, never breaking her gaze.

Chuck nodded and moved to the oven. "What should I turn it to?"

"Three fifty… hot stuff," she said, smirking as she pulled the knife from the chicken. Chuck blinked, set the oven, and wondered what in the hell was going on.

}o{

"Ugh, I'm stuffed," Sarah said, leaning back in her chair and nearly purring, she felt so content. "What are you doing?"

"I'm clearing the table. You cooked the majority of it, so I'm going to clear, wash, and clean. Besides, we Bartowskis are a clean-freak sort of people."

"Is it okay that I say you'll make someone a good house-husband some day?" Sarah asked, grinning at him.

"Not only is it okay, I'll take it as a compliment," he said, reaching for her plate, and pausing. "May I?" he asked. She nodded, not sure what he was asking. He took his thumb and went to remove a spot on her face. It didn't come off at first pass and he furrowed his brow at it. She gave him an amused look. He licked his thumb, paused, and she turned her head slightly to give him a better angle. He rubbed it gently, and it came off. "Looks like chocolate from the dessert."

"Good thing you pulled your thumb away," she said, as he carried the dishes into the other room. "I might have tried to suck it off." She heard the dishes crash.

"I'm okay! Nothing's broken!"

Sarah just smiled, and drank her wine.

}o{

Chuck got under the covers, turned, and looked at Sarah. "Are you sure about this?"

"I'm sure you're not sleeping on the floor, because it's the floor, and you really don't fit on that couch," Sarah replied. "And this is my room, so I'm sure as hell not sleeping on that couch."

"What if I cuddle during the night accidentally? I don't want you using one of the one thousand three hundred eighty-three ways you know to kill someone, on me."

"I thought it was more than that," she muttered. Chuck stared at her. "Hand placement is the key." Chuck's eyes went wide. "You're too easy to mess with, somedays."

"What the hell is going on, Sarah?"

She was silent for a moment. "You really want to know?" she asked is a soft, scared voice.

"Yes, I really do, because while I am enjoying… this, us… why? Why is this happening? Is this… is it…" He couldn't finish the sentence.

"It's the most real thing I've done in a long, long time," she admitted. Chuck turned to her, stunned by what he had heard. "I care about you, in ways I shouldn't. I don't want to lose you, but there are the rules. There is the fact I could be reassigned, there are so many things… so many reasons I shouldn't."

"I understand," Chuck replied.

"No, you don't," she continued. "And-and, it's not your fault. There's only one reason I should, and it's more important to me than all the reasons I shouldn't." Chuck thought his jaw might have fallen through the floor with that admission. "So, I don't know what will happen at the end of this, when we go back to the 'real world', but for now… and I know this is selfish as hell… for now, can we just be? Just you and me? Can we just be Chuck and Sarah?"

Chuck had never in his life seen the fear that was currently on Sarah's face. "Yeah," Chuck replied. "We can." He wrapped his arms around her, and pulled her tight against him. "I like just Chuck and Sarah."

}o{

She awoke, the bed empty, but a smell coming from her kitchen, accompanied by a happy humming noise. She rose up, and looking into the kitchen, saw Chuck at the stove, cooking, and humming.

"Hey, Hotstuff," she said, grinning at him. He turned and returned her grin, a dreamy look on his face. "What?"

"Just thinking how beautiful you look." He paused after he said it. "Maybe I shouldn't have said that, but I felt that fell into 'just Chuck and Sarah' territory."

She didn't answer, but her grin grew to a smile, and she threw the covers back. She watched his brain lock as he saw her bare legs, his eyes trying to look anywhere but at them. "You're gonna hurt yourself," she said, the smile growing, walking toward him.

"Worth it," he said breathily. She walked up to him, cupped his face, and kissed him. Bombs could have exploded, Roan could have screamed at them, General Beckman and Casey could have shown up and told them they were being unprofessional, but Sarah Walker did not give one damn. She was kissing Chuck Bartowski, and damn it, did he know how to kiss her.

"You're not kidding," she muttered, pulling away, and staring into his eyes.

"Still think there are a bunch of bad ideas?" he asked, worry on his face.

"There are, but we'll figure them out," she replied. His brow furrowed. "Chuck… I can't quit you. I know we really haven't gotten started yet, but we will, and once we do, I can't go back. I can't go back to asset-slash-handler. We will get through this."

"We," he said, like it was the most important word in the world. It was. It really, really was.

}o{

12 weeks later

"Agent Walker, Chuck, I'm glad to see you both unaffected by Covid-19," Beckman said to them.

"Um, General, we were affected," Chuck replied. "We were affected… a lot."

"I don't understand, all of your medical scans came back… negative," Beckman said, glancing at paperwork in front of her.

Chuck glanced at Sarah and took her hand, and they both turned to Beckman.

"Before you begin," Beckman said, "I think you should know that over the past 12 weeks I have been quarantined, as well… with a member of the CIA. Agent Roan Montgomery." Chuck's lips were twitching as were Sarah's, both trying not to laugh. "During that time, we had many… lively, discussions."

"I bet you did," Chuck muttered. Tears threatened to burst from Sarah's face, as she tried not to laugh.

Beckman either didn't hear the comment or ignored it, continuing. "We have discussed your… situation, and think that perhaps if Chuck were an NSA analyst, it would allow you both to operate in a more team-friendly environment."

"Team-friendly environment?" Sarah asked. "General, I don't think Casey would agree with that assessment."

Now Beckman's lips twitched, trying not to laugh. "Agent Walker, how would you feel being paired with NSA analyst Chuck Bartowski?"

She glanced at him. "He's very good at what he does." A blush rose from Chuck's neck, and Beckman shook her head. "But, I think Chuck has gotten used to a certain amount of privacy from Casey, and even his sister, and for the good of the… team-friendly environment," Beckman raising a brow at that, "I think Chuck should share my apartment with me."

"I wouldn't want to intrude," Chuck began, turning to Sarah. Sarah shot him a look, and he turned back to the big screen. "I'd be delighted to accept Agent Walker's offer."

"Don't you mean your girlfriend's offer, Mr. Bartowski?" Beckman asked dryly.

"I'm the same person, I don't have multiple personalities," Sarah protested.

Chuck turned to her, bounced his eyebrows and spoke in a low voice. "Whatever you say… Agent Walker."

Sarah swallowed and turned back to Beckman. "I see what you mean."

"So, are we all on the same page?" Beckman asked. She rolled her eyes at Chuck's hand going up. "Yes, Mr. Bartowski?"

"Has anyone told Casey?"

"I think you should know your door isn't soundproof, Sarah," Beckman began. This time, both Chuck and Sarah blushed. "Dismissed," she said, reaching for the button to disconnect, but paused, before she looked at them both. "It's about damn time," and with that, she cut the connection.

"Will you be in charge of my infiltration and seduction class?" Chuck asked her in a low voice. She grabbed his hand, pulling him toward the nearest closet.

"Yep," she replied. "First lesson: Don't ever call me Agent Walker like that in public again." She pulled the door shut behind him.

"I don't think that's the lesson you think it is," he replied.

A/N: May your social distancing be as happy as Chuck's and Sarah's was. Reviews, PM, finger guns, always welcomed.