Grease: The Chuck Revival
A/N: HAPPY BIRTHDAY, QUISTIE64 ! :D Tra la la! You are the most awesome librarian out of the two I know (the other one is probably dead by now, but that didn't influence the vote at all). Seriously though, thank you for sharing your talent with this fandom. Chuck, The Sound of Music, Top Gear and librarians around the world owe you. Have a good one!
I don't own Chuck or Grease or Yvonne's Twitter catch phrase or Frea's Greater catch phrase or the melody of this song. Id est I don't own anything, except for these lyrics, but I'm gonna deny that too. Also, this was all Frea O'Scanlin's idea.
PS. This was a lot harder than quistie64 made it look.
Prologue
Sarah pulled her hair back into a ponytail while involuntarily running her tongue over her front teeth. It felt good to finally be rid of her braces. The CIA had given her a make-over when she'd joined fifteen months ago, dying her hair blonde and instructing her to grow it out. They'd supplied her with a new wardrobe and had taught her the finer art of makeup, but not even the mighty government could magically straighten crooked teeth. She had to wait for the orthodontist to give the final okay, which he only did two days ago. Her fellow trainees had dubbed her 'bullfrog lips' whenever she had to wear a mouth guard during sparring sessions, but that quickly changed after a well-placed roundhouse forced trainee Larkin, a real loud mouth pretty boy, to ask for her dentist's number.
Her tongue made another lap. She should probably stop doing that, Sarah thought.
She took a step back and looked at herself in the mirror. Gone was Jenny Burton with below the knee floral skirts and pastel cardigans. Instead she was wearing formfitting jeans, a cute blue shirt with little buttons and high heel boots. Her black leather jacket rounded off the outfit.
A look becoming of Sarah Walker – superspy in the making.
[To the tune of 'Grease is the word']
They solved my problems and showed me the light
Teaching me how to lie, teaching me how to fight
There is no danger I'm too scared to face
No enemy too strong, no mission I won't embrace
Spy is the word
Sarah's shoulders slumped. She was a superspy in the making who was going back to high school.
"Walker!" her partner called from outside her door, "Move it. We're going to be late."
"Go ahead!" she yelled back. "I'm taking the bike."
"That's a waste of taxpayers' money. The Crown Vic has a fully functional passenger seat."
Sarah balled her fists and pushed down her annoyance. This man was going to drive her insane. She took a soothing breath, shook out her fingers to get the circulation back and then swung the door open.
"It's the first day of school," she explained calmly. "I'm supposed to be one of the cool kids. Arriving with my 'uncle' will defeat that purpose."
Casey didn't verbally reply. He just stood there, arms folded over his chest, studying her. It was meant to make her squirm. She didn't. Then he raised his eyebrow a fraction of an inch. "Where's your cheerleader uniform?"
Sarah's resolve slipped the tiniest bit. "I'm not trying out for the squad." She sounded like a petulant teenager, something Major Casey would no doubt include in his report. "The C.A.T.S. rule that school," she quickly amended. She'd much rather be a tough biker chick than a Heather Chandler type, even it was just a cover. Besides, she fell in love with the Kawasaki ZR-6R the minute the CIA had delivered it. "Boys are more likely to notice the bike anyway."
Casey gave a disbelieving grunt. "Bartowski is a jock. Jocks date cheerleaders."
"He plays basketball for college credits," Sarah pointed out. She'd done her homework too. If she was going to deal with a Dick Duffy clone, she wanted to be prepared. To her relief, her fear was unfounded. "He's also a mathlete, president of the debate team and the most likely candidate for valedictorian."
"Great," Casey grunted. "A geek with ball sense."
Sarah wondered if the Major had been hatched such a miserable person or if he hated this assignment as much as she did. His cover was the new basketball coach of a team who hadn't won a game in seven seasons and that of her legal guardian. Not to mention that he was an NSA burn-out, partnered with a rookie who was yet to receive her badge. If she wasn't about to repeat a senior year in high school for this mission in order to get close to an off-grid asset's kid, she might have had sympathy with his situation.
"Didn't you say you were going to be late?" she reminded him.
Again Casey grunted. A habit, Sarah decided, which was going to get very irritating, very quickly.
"Why don't you just concentrate on your part in this, kid?"
Sarah bit back the reply that, though she was only nineteen, she was old enough to shoot a gun. And trained to do it well. Instead she gave him a mock salute, knowing it would get under his skin. "Yes, sir, Major Casey, sir."
Casey's permanent frown deepened. "Watch it," he warned in a low tone, "you blow this and the CIA kicks your ass off of the Farm and straight into a prison cell."
You think there's nothing left for you to learn
Not that I care at all, that is not my concern
I only want to find Orion's son
Get our secrets back and this mission done
Nerd is the word
It's the job, don't get careless
The nerd is the mark,he's theone to stay close to
'cause Quistie is making us do this
Casey turned on his heel and marched down the hallway. "Get moving, Walker," he ordered without looking back. "And if you're gonna break your neck with that monstrosity, make sure it's not on company time."