Heh.
This is FL's futile attempt to write anything remotely serious or angsty. Seems that looming exams are conducive to fanfiction writing :)
And yes, I know one of the burgers below is not sold at McD, but... this is fiction! Oh, and the prices aren't accurate.
Disclaimer: I don't own McDonalds, Subway, or Chuck.
Sarah vs. a Simple Order
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by FL
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"Can I help you?"
Those fated words.
Sarah looks back quickly at Chuck before smiling with renewed confidence at the server.
"Yes," She says, "I'd like... the Baconator combo?"
The pimply teenager pushes a button on the machine, nodding. Sarah looks away; his tongue is busy in it's attempt to remove the remains of his lunch from his braces, and it's making her lose her appetite.
"Normal, or upgrade to deluxe?" He asks with a bored tone.
Looking at Chuck again, she looks confused at the boy's attitude. Chuck just shrugs. She was certainly happy and smiley at her own customers back across over at Subway.
Feeling like an overgrown kid, she'd clutched at Chuck's hand on the way in, glancing around at all the delighted children and overweight mothers trying to clean up smeared tomato sauce from their kid's mouths.
She wouldn't have dared set foot in McDonald's without Chuck's persistent urging. Really, greasy floors and flaccid French fries weren't exactly on her list of things to ever associate to the concept of 'lunch'. Ever. This wasn't even counting all the calories she'd have to burn off after this little excursion into enemy waters. If Subway ever found out she'd been to McDonald's..
"Uh," She drags out slowly, chewing her lower lip and conveniently ignoring the foot tapping behind them in the long line. "Deluxe?"
His finger hovers over another button, but doesn't press down. She looks at him questioningly.
"Is something wrong?" She comments, lifting her eyebrow at him.
Peering at her over the cash register, he scans her top-to-toe most unobtrusively.
"Are you sure?"
Sarah's attention snaps back to him, ignoring Chuck's close proximity behind her as he holds her around her waist.
"Excuse me?"
Mildly offended, she narrows her eyes at the boy, eyebrows furrowed.
"I mean," He continues, unaware of impending doom, "Are you sure you should eat that much?"
Out there in the nice, violent world- Sarah is Agent Walker, independent, strong and respected. In here, this incubator of viral infection and future demise of all children, she's Sarah Walker- confused, hungry and dubious she'd ever be able to unclog her arteries after today.
"Are you calling me fat?" She says, a little bemused.
Chuck nudges her, placating, "No, I think he means that he isn't sure you can finish the whole meal, as slender as you are."
"Oh," She says, ignoring whatever "Trevor" was about to say, instead kissing Chuck lightly. "Mmm, you're so sweet."
He nuzzles her neck in answer, kissing her jaw as she smiles up at him affectionately.
"Excuse me," A woman behind them says indignantly, her hand clasped over her child's eyes, "This is a family restaurant."
Sarah frowns at her, temper rising another notch, one notch to go until uncontrollable killing spree, "Family? Have you seen the me-" nu?
Chuck cuts in smoothly, "She'd like a latte," He calls loudly to Trevor, who snaps his mouth shut just in time. Sarah turns back to face the register, a mutinous expression on her face after giving a hard glare to the middle-aged woman waiting in line after them.
"-With a dash of caramel, extra foam, half the sugar... and," He gazes critically at her, kissing her nose as her face softens, "Add a marshmallow."
Chuck and Sarah stare at each other before Trevor coughs not-so-subtly.
"A marshmallow will have to cost you."
"How much?" Chuck asks, shaking his head.
"Ten cents."
"Ten-!" Chuck looks scandalised.
"Ten."
"Fine," Chuck grits out, rolling his eyes, "Well, anyway... I'd like-"
"Wait," Sarah interrupts, apologetic, "Wait. Uh, could you take out the mayo in my burger, and ...the pickles," She looks inquiringly at the boy, "Are there pickles?"
"Yes."
"Oh, good," She says approvingly, "Could I have the garlic toasted bun?"
Trevor taps a beat against the marble counter as he answers, irritated, "We don't have garlic toasted buns."
Sarah looks confused, "Okay, Italian herb?"
"No."
"Chees-"
"No."
Looking put off, Sarah looks even more dubious at how this giant franchise had ever gotten so successful. Why did no one try to halt their evil plans for world domination? Fulcrum really should learn from them.
"Look lady," Their server says impatiently, "We only have sesame buns, untoasted."
Sarah turns to Chuck, "This is why Subway gets so much business," She informs him, matter of factly.
"Can you hurry it up?" Trevor complains, looking pointedly at the growing crowd behind them.
For a moment, Sarah looks tempted to leap over the counter to strangle the boy with her bare hands. Calm center. Calm. She repeats in her head, looking around at all the screaming, bratty, spoiled childr- She shakes her head. Calm center.
"Yeah well, I'll have the crispy chicken burger combo," Chuck says, scanning the menu. "Regular. Sprite. Throw in a strawberry sundae too."
He pulls out his wallet, but is distracted from drawing out his credit card when Trevor smirks.
"What's so funny?" Chuck asks, disliking the boy even more.
Trevor just shakes his head, indicating Chuck to slide the card through the scanner. As Chuck inputs his number, Trevor reads off the order with that infuriating smile still on his lips.
"So, the lady will have the crispy chicken, regular with sprite. Strawberry sundae. Order two: Baconator, extra mayo, hold pickles. Deluxe. Latte."
Chuck holds up a finger, "No, I'm having the crispy chicken."
His grin growing, the teenager answers, "I'm aware of that."
Full of righteous anger, Sarah, who had been strangely quiet these last few minutes, jumps to his defense.
But before she can impale him with bendy straws, Chuck intervenes again. "Don't cause a scene," He puts a hand on her arm, red staining his cheeks, "It's alright."
She looks like she's going to cause one anyway, but then deflates, muttering under her breath. Damn civilian world. Plotting to drive me insane.
Taking a deep breath, she corrects the boy sharply, "I asked for no mayo. Keep the pickles," She states firmly, almost like a challenge, all niceties long gone.
"Right," He glances at the screen, "That'll be ... twenty-seven fifty."
Sarah stares, perplexed, "That's fifty cents too much."
"No, it's not," Trevor says, glancing at Chuck's work shirt, "But even as a Nerd Herder, I'm sure you can afford the extra few cents."
Chuck looks down, ashamed. Beckman had promised him new cover job ever since the new download, but the details were still getting fine tuned during the next few days. Not that the McDonald's boy could boast to earn that much more.
"Chuck."
He looked up at Sarah. Her eyes were on the teenager who didn't so much as quail under her withering glare. He simply stood there, frustrated enough finally to just pick his braces with his grimy fingernails.
"Chuck, go wait outside."
He sighed. "Sarah-"
She pointed to the door. "Go." She rolled her shoulders back. "I'll take care of him."
"In the car?"
"In the car."
As he backed away, giving her hand a squeeze, he walked a tad bit faster at the cold fury in her expression.
Just as he opened the door, there was a loud bang, and he heard Sarah's voice speaking ominously, "Make that takeaway."
Shuddering, he stepped out into the warm wind, making his way to the car.
Five minutes later, as he sat staring out the windscreen blankly, the door opened, and Sarah slid into the passenger seat of the Herder.
Without a word, she placed the drinks into the holders, and resting the brown package of food on her knees, she handed him the shiny fifty cent coin.
Chuck looked warily at the wet crimson splatters on her polo, "Uh, Sarah?"
She dipped her finger into the thick substance and licked it, "The tomato sauce packets exploded."
--
"I'm not impressed, Agent Walker." Beckman said coldly from the teleconference screen.
Shooting a deathly glare at Casey, who sat chuckling snidely to the side, Sarah stood rigidly, hands at her sides.
Beckman indicated the other half of the screen, where the television news reporter stood, speaking in muted tones- the ticker at the bottom flashing the words, "Terrorist at local McDonalds".
Sarah has a defensive expression on her face as Beckman continues, "It was a messy job."
Don't kill me. It was the closest I could get to serious.
Well. 12.38am, weekends over, school tomorrow.. or rather, today (edit: this is two days ago when I wrote this :P). Newly re-injured knee, and bio end of the year mock-exam practical tomorrow and Tuesday. I should start studying. Except my book's at school. Not the smartest thing I could have done.