A/N: Thanks for being here still. And thanks for the reviews. :)
Disclaimer: I don't own "Chuck" and I'm not making any money writing this.
Chuck woke up in a bathtub with a horrible crick in his neck and an ache in his mid-back. His backside was numb, legs cramped, and his left arm was asleep.
But he didn't budge, not even to try to readjust how he was sitting to ease the discomfort. Because Sarah was still asleep, curled up half next to him, half on top of him. Her head was on his shoulder, face burrowed under his chin, one arm slung over his chest, the other tucked under her body. If she weren't still sleeping, he imagined she'd be experiencing similar aches and pains from falling asleep in the bathtub in such an awkward position…
And yet…
He would let her sleep.
The hurricane ended up being a slow-moving storm, which meant frighteningly windy conditions throughout the night. That had been most of what they'd been awake for, distracting themselves with sex, reading to one another from her books. And then in the early hours of the morning, Chuck had gotten Sarah's wireless radio to work, and an alert went off on Sarah's phone that she'd put on low-power mode once electricity was turned off. Both warned residents that the storm was hitting, storm surge had already flooded some of the coastal areas on other islands, but because the storm had slowed down significantly, the worst of it was hitting later.
Because of the insane amounts of material he'd read in the last twenty-four hours, Chuck had insisted they bring the candles into her bathroom and hunker down in the tub. She'd given him a look that made him think she most likely considered the idea ridiculous, but because she was kinder and better than she probably thought she was, she agreed and helped him move the candles.
The distraction of being able to lose himself in her, putting every last bit of his attention and focus into sex, had helped with his nerves about the storm outside of her house as the night progressed. But in those quiet, comfortable moments between the sex, he'd been a bit panicked. He had to admit it, because it was so obvious.
And so she went along with his bathtub idea, he thought, if only because it made him feel better. Maybe it was a stupid plan, but she'd gone along with it anyway.
As they sat in the tub together, with blankets and pillows, Sarah between his legs and leaning back against his chest, she went through the play As You Like It with him, dubbing it as one of her favorite things ever written because it triumphed the ability of people to change for the better. She even read parts of it out loud to him, especially some of the quotes that she liked about love. The look on her face as she told him Rosalind was one of her favorite heroines in literature because of how realistically she treats love—making fun of the kind of love people reveled in suffering over, the kind of love people claimed they'd die for. Love was attainable, she insisted, and it could succeed, even with human flaws and the ups and downs. Perfection wasn't attainable, but happiness was.
He'd been entranced by her, as terrifying as the sounds of the storm starting to hit had been.
They'd eventually fallen asleep after moving around a bit, trying to get comfortable. Their current position hadn't been how they'd fallen asleep, though, he thought to himself. Which made him wonder if she'd woken up at some point, moved around, and snuggled back in against him. It filled him with warmth. She hadn't gotten out of the uncomfortable bathtub to go sleep in her comfortable bed. She'd just cuddled right back into him, staying in this porcelain box of discomfort.
He was buzzing at the thought.
And then she shifted at the sound of the rain pounding harder outside, slamming into the roof. The wind was still incredible, but he wondered if they hadn't slept through the worst part. He hoped they had.
Sarah squirmed and he felt her yawn against his neck, making him shiver. "Oh God," she murmured quietly.
"Pain?" he asked, just as quietly.
"Everywhere," she said in a tight voice.
"Yep."
"Oh God," she repeated.
"I feel responsible. I'm ridiculous and paranoid and made us climb inside this bathtub and your house is still standing. We could've fallen asleep in your bed," he said as she continued to shift position against him. He was finally able to pull his arm out from under her and flex his fingers, wincing at the horrible tingling in his arm.
"Nooo, come on. It's a good idea to be safe, just in case." She turned around and climbed up onto her knees, straddling him as she stretched her arms up over her head. He could hear her back and arms pop a little and she groaned. It sounded like it felt so amazing and he couldn't wait to do the same thing.
"Oh, wow," he murmured as she climbed out of the tub and he was able to move. "Yep. I can't feel my ass. Is it still there even? I don't know because I can't feel it. Wow."
She giggled and helped him up onto his knees. He stayed in the tub on his hands and knees, groaning melodramatically, making her laugh more as he made a production of it.
"Come on, you tall, lanky so-and-so. Get outta the tub." She made a face then and laughed. "I just got flashbacks to that one time I babysat for my neighbor when I was sixteen, trying to get little BenBen out of the bathtub."
Chuck cracked up and climbed to his feet a bit faster. "Welp. That did it. I'm getting out."
She laughed again, and he let her help him out, his hand on her shoulder.
Something crashed hard onto the roof, and it sounded like it was right above them. "God, when will this end?" he asked, looking up.
"It didn't go through the roof, whatever it was, so…small blessings and all that."
Chuck was finally able to look at his watch, then. "It's almost eight. I say we abandon my stupid tub idea and go back into your bed. It's not like we have anything to be up for. There's still a raging hurricane outside."
"You're a raging hurricane outside," she quipped, and he laughed.
"Um, no I'm not." Then he paused, and before he could filter himself, these last hours he'd spent with Sarah making him too comfortable around her perhaps, he said, "But I can be a raging hurricane inside. If you want. In your bed, I mean." He paused. "Sex. I'm talking about sex."
She just blinked at him. And then she bit her lip, most likely to keep from laughing incredibly hard at his expense, and he just had to wince. "Wow, Chuck. That was a really good one," she drawled sarcastically, just barely holding in her mirth.
"Let's just go to the kitchen and eat some food." He brushed past her and headed for the hallway.
"Is eating your coping mechanism for abject mortification?"
"Oh my God, shut up," he exclaimed, earning laughter from her as she following him down the hallway. He chuckled and turned to face her. "But yes. Yes, it is."
She laughed even harder.
When they got into the kitchen, they both stood there, right smack dab in the middle of it. Chuck blinked at the fridge first, then turned and looked at the stove. "What are you hungry for?" he asked.
"What are you hungry for?"
"Mmmmmmm, omelet? Do you have eggs?"
"Yes. The backup generator is going, though, so the fridge should still be cold, right?"
He shrugged and went to it, opening it and sticking his hand inside. "It's cold!" Then he reached in and grabbed eggs, opened some drawers to pull onions and sliced lunchmeat and cheese out, then tossed it all on the counter.
In the meantime, Sarah lit more candles around the counters, as the boards over the windows made the place dark in spite of it being daytime. Chuck imagined it was still dark and dreary outside anyway with the hurricane still slowly trudging along over them.
"Are you…handling this?" she asked, raising her eyebrows.
"Listen, you're literally harboring me in a storm. I can make you breakfast."
Sarah spread her hands in a shrug of surrender and smirked, sidling up next to him and watching as he began to scramble the eggs in a bowl. There was a loud thump outside, like something hit the boards covering the windows and then fell to the ground. It made him jump and he nearly dropped the bowl, just barely catching it again but the egg covered fork clattered to the ground.
"I'll, uh…I'll get that," Sarah said, biting her lip in amusement.
"I'm sorry. I—That was loud."
"It was. It's okay." She giggled and grabbed something to clean the floor with, tossing the dirty fork in the sink and handing him a new one.
It took him a little over twenty minutes to finish up and they decided to eat and drink their coffee on the floor in her hallway, laying out blankets and sitting across from one another, bringing the candles with them.
"We should've stuck a candle in your scramble or something," Sarah said as she shoveled food in her mouth.
"A candle?" he chuckled, sipping his coffee. "Why? It isn't my birthday."
"Yeah, I know, but this is your first hurricane. It's kind of a big deal."
Chuck laughed. "Call me crazy, but I don't know that this is something I particularly want to celebrate."
"Why?" she laughed. And then she shook her head. "Yeah, this one is not a fun one."
"Oh gee, well thanks. Sorry I'm not exciting enough for you."
She laughed again and reached across to smack his shoulder. "I mean, I didn't really need the hurricane to happen for me to lock myself up in my house with a strapping young man who's great at breakfast and is even better in bed. I could do without the hurricane part."
Chuck gaped, his coffee cup halfway to his mouth. Then he set it down and shook his head. "Nope. That broke me. I'm broken. Done for the day."
Her giggle almost drowned out the wind, and he smiled at her. "Does that mean when this storm is over we can do all this again?" he asked, pointing up.
Her smirk was almost sultry as she sipped her coffee. "I'd say yes but I do have a job. And I'm gonna have to go back to it when boats can go out on the water again without getting massacred."
"Ah, yeah…good point."
"Yeah, we're not all on vacation here, slugger." She nudged his shoulder and winked. "This is actually one of the best breakfasts I've ever had, teasing aside."
He felt a twinge in his chest at that, and he wondered if he was blushing. He felt like he was maybe blushing. Rubbing the back of his neck, he shrugged. "Thanks."
"The food is great, but there's something else about this…moment. Sitting on the floor in my hallway where it's less scary-loud 'cause there's a hurricane outside. All cozy. And with a good guy like you…"
"Are you trying to make me blush? Like is this something you're actively attempting to do?"
"I dunno, if it is, is it working?"
"Yes. Definitely. Maybe you can't see it because we're in candlelight, but there's definitely a lot of blushing going on. Right here." He gestured to his face. "A little over here and here…" He pointed to each cheek, making her giggle, an incredibly pleased look on her face.
"I genuinely don't get how you're a real person, Chuck Bartowski."
"Too good to be true?" he asked, tongue-in-cheek.
But her face turned a bit more serious and she just looked at him for a long time. "Yeah. Actually. A little."
He didn't quite know what to say to that, so he sipped his coffee instead, purposely not meeting her gaze. "Well, it's all an act truthfully. I'm masking my faults with self-deprecation. It's slight of hand. I distract you over here," he held up his hand to the side, "and then over here," he held up his other hand with the coffee, "I quickly cover up my flaw so you don't see it." He winked. "Like a magician, but actually constructive to real life."
She laughed and shook her head. "Magicians can be constructive," she tried.
"Sarah…" He gave her a flat look. "I can't say I've ever needed to make an elephant disappear. Or even pull a card out of my ear."
That made her crack up. "Okay, that's fair, I guess. But if I'm being honest, if you were sitting right here in front of me and you did one of these weird hand rubbing things and opened your fists to reveal a live chick or something equally as cute, I'd be pretty turned on."
Chuck pulled his chin back and widened his eyes. He hadn't been expecting her to say that, and he loved how she just shrugged at his reaction, like she was just telling the truth. God, she was invigorating to be around, raging hurricane still passing by outside notwithstanding. She made his heart pound and his blood rush through his veins like he was on a rollercoaster. It was exciting. He adored the sensation.
"Now, would that be because it's me making the chick appear? Or are you just generally turned on by magic tricks?" He narrowed his eyes. "I really need the answer to this."
She snorted cutely. "I honestly don't know the answer to that."
That made him laugh. "That's such a good answer." She shrugged modestly, beaming at him. "Well, how about this? We can make these dishes disappear—probably not with magic, I was thinking more like, giving 'em a scruberoo in the sink, setting them aside and letting them air dry—and then…well, unfortunately I can't turn you on by making a baby chicken appear out of thin air, but I have some other ideas I might try."
Sarah's jaw fell open. Then she recuperated a bit, lifting a scholarly finger. "Counter-thought. We put the dishes in the sink with some soapy water and skip the rest of it, going straight to the part where you try those ideas of yours."
Chuck watched as she gathered up the dishes, taking the coffee right out of his fingers and giggling at his, "Wha—Hey!"
"I'll do this part, you wait for me in the bedroom and line up those ideas from worst to best. In ascending order, so to speak," she said methodically, and there was a deliciously mischievous look in her eyes as she raised them to meet his gaze.
"I'll get right on that," he chirped, scrambling up to his feet and wincing at the popping in his knees. Sure, he was only in his mid-twenties, but his long limbs really could not handle sitting cross-legged and on the floor for too long. Wow…
They both moved in different directions then as Sarah did the football "Break!", laughing as she did it.
}o{
The hurricane finally left in the late afternoon, but it was still raining in spite of the clouds starting to slowly move away. The loud, scary winds died down, and Chuck finally got up the courage to climb out of Sarah's bed—leaving his half-asleep companion behind—put on some clothes, and venture out into her entryway. He unbolted the door and pulled it open, squinting at the outside after way too many hours of being cooped up indoors.
Although, with the company he'd had while being cooped up indoors, it didn't actually feel like too many hours… He could use a few more, in fact.
Smirking a little, he stepped out onto her porch and pushed at a palm frond that had blown onto it with his foot, kicking it out into her yard. Speaking of which, her yard was covered in debris. There was a street sign, mangled, sitting on her gravel, there was a branch from a tree…what tree, he didn't know. Pieces of tile from people's roofs, paper trash, et cetera. The wind had really done a number.
More than that, though, was the four foot wide river rapids surging down the street in front of her house, down towards the ocean. It made him glad the city planners and builders made streets that were angled in a way that prevented flooding, as well as situating houses in a pattern that meant a river of water wouldn't burst in through someone's front door during tropical storms.
"Holy shit…" Sarah stepped out onto the porch and stood beside him. "I'm afraid to go out back and survey that damage."
"I'm no expert, but if a sign was literally ripped off its post by the wind, there's going to be some damage out there. Some of it bad." He turned to gaze at her, fixated on her profile at first, the breeze making her long blond hair that wasn't trapped under her robe flutter across her face…and then he dragged his eyes down her body.
She was only in a robe, flip flops on her feet.
She hadn't even been in Hawaii for a year yet and the woman was out in post-hurricane elements in a robe and flip flops. He adored it.
"What?" she asked, sending him a dubious look, catching him staring.
"Hm? Nothin'. No, I was just…yeah, the damage."
"Oh. Yeah. Think we should take some of these boards down and see what the other side of the house looks like? It's still raining, but not hard. We'll just get a little wet." She bounced her shoulder.
"Let's do it. But, uh, I suggest you wear more than that." This time he let her see the way he dragged his eyes down her long, bare legs. And he got a smack in the back of his head for it. She laughed and led him back inside.
It took only a few minutes for them to be dressed properly, and Sarah put on a pair of rain boots that made him grin like an idiot. She followed his gaze down to the boots and rolled her eyes. "Oh, what now?"
"No, I'm sorry, I'm just—" He giggled and then clamped his hands over his mouth at the dark look she threw at him.
He couldn't help it. They were blue rain boots, with cartoonish pink and purple jellyfish springing up and down the length of them. But the best part was that the jellyfish had the happiest little smiles on their faces, their eyes little arches of happiness.
"Oh, shut up. These were on sale and I needed rain boots."
"But look at their little faces," he giggled, following after her. "Jellyfish don't even have faces, Sarah. It's so cute!"
"I'm going to take them off and chuck them at your head…no pun intended."
But that just made him giggle harder.
He didn't get a boot thrown at him, but a mid-sized palm frond she'd hoisted away from her porch did sail through the air at him. He just barely got his arms up in time to stop it from smacking him in the face. "Hey!"
Sarah smirked over her shoulder at him and led him around the house, hammer in hand. They skipped the windows in the front, instead heading through the now crooked wooden gate to the backyard. He imagined she was more interested to see what that part of her home looked like than he was. It was her yard after all. They stopped at the same time and gaped.
"Well, it was a nice garden while it lasted," she said in a flat voice.
Somebody's tin roof from a garden shed or something else small landed flat over the garden, most likely smashing it all.
"Hey, but what if this happened early on in the storm and it didn't smash it as much as it protected everything from being torn apart by the wind," Chuck offered, trying to be as chipper as possible as he trotted over to the tin slab and slipped his hands under it. He used his inner Hulk strength to hoist it off of her garden, flipping it off to the side, and looked down at the smashed plants. The flowers were obliterated, some of the vegetables squashed and most likely inedible.
"It was a nice thought," she said, crossing her arms. "I'll have to go through and see if I can salvage anything and try to eat them this week."
"I'm sorry about your garden, Sarah. This sucks."
"Ah, it's okay. I'm glad that thing landed on the garden instead of the house."
Chuck nodded, not really knowing what to say. He hadn't been prepared for a hurricane during this vacation. Technically two hurricanes. Sarah Walker was sort of like a hurricane, wasn't she? But without all of the bad parts. She shook things up big time, uprooted his vacation, turned it on its head… and sometimes, late at night when he was alone in his hotel suite bed trying to fall asleep, this whirlwind intensity between them, and how quickly it had happened, and what came next…it was a little scary.
A hurricane.
He shook his head at himself and carefully made his way through the debris to the sliding doors they'd covered with wood. "Would you toss me the hammer? I'm gonna take this off."
She snorted and shook her head, walking the hammer over and handing it to him. "I won't be throwing a hammer at you today, no. Can't imagine it'd be as amusing as it sounds if you were to survive your first hurricane and then end up in the hospital after it was over because your…scuba instructor threw a hammer at you and you didn't catch it."
He laughed. "Uuuummmmmmm…you're automatically assuming me not catching it would be the problem instead of you throwing it poorly and I resent that."
"Chuck. I've seen you play frisbee."
"H—!" he nearly defended himself. And then he stopped and shrugged. "Touché, Scuba Sarah."
She cackled and shook her head, standing back to watch as he knelt down and began to pry the nails and yank them the rest of the way out, handing them up for Sarah to hold onto. She slipped them in her raincoat pocket and helped him carefully lower the planks down, stacking them neatly in a pile on the cement.
It was when they rounded to the side of the house that they were both stunned into silence.
The boards covering Sarah's bedroom window were cracked right down the middle, and sitting on the ground beneath them was a large branch that would have gone right through the glass and landed on her bedroom floor if the wood hadn't been there. The implications of it were all too clear to Chuck. If either of them had been standing there when it had happened, if her bed was anywhere near that window…and it sort of was…that branch could've killed her. Or him since he was here, but…wow.
"Well…this is sobering," she muttered quietly. The rain had lessened to a drizzle now, but he didn't really notice, instead walking up to the boards and putting his hand on them. The branch must've hit them hard, because they were bent inwards, the wood splintered and cracked where it made contact. There were smudges from bark and sap there too.
Sarah took her phone out and snapped a few pictures, it looked like. "For the crew. So they know how close I came to dying."
She huffed and took the hammer from him, starting to pry the wood off herself. When she lowered it into her arms, she peered down at the plywood again and shook her head. "Hey, if you really think about it, I wouldn't have really done the whole covering windows with wood thing unless you were here to help me out. I would've been too lazy or something. Honestly, I just would've hoped nothing happened. And I'd have a branch on my bedroom floor. Or who knows? If I'd been standing there…"
Chuck gazed at her as she lifted her eyes to his and tossed the wood to the ground, out of the way.
"So I guess, in a way, I'm saying you saved my house, and potentially…me. So thanks, Curls."
He swallowed thickly and tucked his hands in his jacket pockets, shrugging modestly. "You're welcome. And hey, that's why I'm here, right? To protect you." He puffed out his chest. "Protect Sarah Walker at all costs."
The sincerity in her face dimmed a bit to a look he couldn't really figure out, and she looked to the side thoughtfully, chewing her lip a little bit. Then she looked back up at him and gave him an amused sniff, the rest of it fading out of her features just as quickly. "Well, I appreciate your help, Chuck. Really."
"Sure thing. What do ya say we get rid of the rest of these boards and clean this yard up a bit, huh?"
Sarah nodded. "Then I'm sure you'd like to check on your hotel, make sure it's still standing."
"Oh. Right. Yeah, that would probably be good to check that out." He pressed his lips together and puffed out his cheeks, making her smirk.
It took them a little under an hour to get things looking at least somewhat passably decent, and like a few of Sarah's nearish neighbors, they piled the debris out in the front near the street.
When they got inside, Sarah checked the lights and found that everything was working all right. But when Chuck checked his phone, there were reports of power outages here and there around the island.
Sarah made them sandwiches as he sent Ellie and Morgan both quick texts to let them know he was okay, sent his assistant and a few of his other managers a text to check on BarTech and give them updates, and finally he grabbed his duffel and they piled into Sarah's car.
Chuck wasn't really sure what they'd see as they carefully made their way through the streets to take him back to his hotel, but he didn't think either of them were prepared for things to be as bad as they were.
In no way was it akin to a natural disaster movie, but houses did have damage, and power lines were down as Sarah maneuvered her car through a few neighborhoods. They drove in silence, both of them gaping out of their windows.
Until something caught Chuck's eye.
A boy was standing in a yellow raincoat, yelling into a tree that had tipped onto its side, grabbing at the branches and tugging at them ineffectually. There was one home up the hill, but nothing else really around. And he knew deep down inside that he couldn't let Sarah keep driving past this.
He didn't know what was happening, but the kid needed help.
"Sarah, wait," he said, already grabbing at the handle of the door. "Stop the car. Stop the car…"
"What is it?" she asked, pulling the car to the side of the road. "What?"
"That kid over there," was all he said, bursting out of the car into the drizzle and dashing through flattened bushes and weeds to get to the kid's side.
"Hey! Hey, are you okay?" he asked as he staggered to a stop and grabbed at the boy's arm. He looked like he was maybe twelve or so, and the tears were running down his face.
"My puppy!" he explained brokenly.
"What?"
He heard barking then, from somewhere inside of the mangled limbs of the downed tree the boy had been pulling on. He spun to look, carefully making his way over and peering in. A dog was trapped underneath, and he couldn't tell if the trunk was pinning it or if it was just trapped inside of the branches and too scared to come out.
"Is this your dog?" he asked the boy.
"Yes," he sobbed, wiping his cheeks.
"Okay, it's okay…"
Sarah was there then. "What's going on?" she asked. "You okay?" she then directed towards the boy.
He just cried.
"What's your name?" Chuck asked then, kneeling down to be at the boy's height.
"M-Makoa."
"Okay, Makoa. It's okay. What happened?"
"I w-was walking with Harold and he w-went over here to smell the tree and it broke and fell on him," he cried. "I can't get him out."
"We'll get him out, okay? You out here by yourself?" The boy nodded. "Is that your house up there?" He pointed to the one story house up the grassy hill and the boy nodded again. "Your parents home?"
"M-My dad."
"I'm gonna go get your dad to help us, but we'll get Harold, okay? Just wait here and talk to him. How 'bout that? Can you do that?"
Makoa nodded and Chuck put his hand on his damp hair and smiled reassuringly. He stood to his full height and glanced at Sarah.
"I'll wait with him," she said, sliding a hand around the boy's shoulders.
He nodded and broke into a run, sprinting up the hill, feeling a bit out of shape as he began to bang on the house's door, panting for air.
A man who looked like a taller, burlier version of the boy at the bottom of the hill answered the door, concern in his face. "Can I help—?"
"Your son—He's at the bottom of the hill. Tree fell… His dog…Harold…under it…"
The concerned quadrupled on the man's face and he nearly burst past Chuck, but he caught his arm. "Your son is okay," he explained quickly. "He's upset, but he's okay. And Harold was barking when I got there. But he's trapped inside of the tree."
"Then let's go get the tree off him!" the man rushed.
"It's too heavy, even if three adults are trying to lift it. But I've got an idea. You have a tool shed or something?"
The man shook the resistance out of himself and nodded, leading him around the back to a garage. It only took another two minutes before both of the men clambered down the hill, a small barrel of oil under one arm and a metal pole clasped in Chuck's hand. The boy's father had a jack in one hand and a shovel in the other as he ran.
Makoa broke from Sarah's side and rushed to his dad, hugging him around his waist. "We were just looking for worms!" he cried, tears running down his face.
"I know, Makoa. It's okay. Is Harold under the tree?"
"He's still al—" Sarah stopped herself, realizing belatedly how that might sound to the boy. And she instead said, "He's barking and whining. I think he's scared more than hurt, but I used my phone flashlight and couldn't really tell if he is pinned by the trunk or not."
Chuck got to work immediately, starting to dig a shallow trench next to the tree.
"What is this stuff for?" Sarah asked. "I was going to call emergency services but I'm not sure with how bad this place looks that they'll be responding to pet emergencies at the moment."
"Nah, definitely not," he said, tossing the shovel to the ground and grabbing the barrel. It felt heavier than it had as he'd staggered down the hill earlier, but probably because the adrenaline was giving him strength. And momentum.
He was starting to realize this might not work, and while the dog was alive now, still barking in fear in spite of his owner talking to him, if he was pinned by the tree, he might not be alive much longer.
Chuck found the father at his side then, having maybe figured out what he was doing, and he helped him shove the barrel into the trench so that it didn't roll around as he attempted a feat of physics.
"You bench press?" Chuck found himself asking the man then, spinning to look at the muscles in his arms.
"What, dude?"
"How much can you lift?" The guy blinked. "Doesn't matter. You're definitely stronger than me." He swept the metal pole off of the ground and thrust it into the other man's hands. "Try to shove that under the trunk if you can. Go into the ground under it if you have to. It should be wet enough to dig under far enough."
"I think I see where your head is at, braddah." And the father moved to the tree and with a hefty thrust, he slammed the pole into the ground, sinking it underneath the trunk. He wedged it far beneath then looked up at Chuck. "That enough?"
"Think so." Chuck grabbed the pole, then propped it on top of the barrel. It was a makeshift lift, and hopefully they could get it high enough that the jack could fit under. On the soggy ground, it was a toss up as to whether or not this would work, but he was going to try anyway.
"Okay, Sarah…"
"The jack. Got it. Makoa, stand back, okay?"
The boy nodded and trotted far enough back, worry still all over his face.
Sarah picked up the jack and stood at the ready, nodding at Chuck as he and Makoa's dad positioned themselves at the pole, setting their hands on it.
"I'll count down from three." The man nodded. "Three…two…one."
They pushed the end of the pole down as hard as they could, grunting with the effort, biceps bulging. And Chuck felt a slight budge. He thought they at least got the tree out of the small groove it had made in the ground when it landed.
And then they slowly got it up just enough he thought Sarah could fit the small jack under, closer to where the dog was trapped. "Go, go, go!" he strained.
Sarah acted fast, finding the lowest place it could possibly fit and expertly wedging it in a way that it wouldn't come loose and further trap Harold.
Makoa's dad dove for the jack and went to work, cranking the tree up carefully. The limbs shivered with each jerk up from the ground. And Chuck slid down onto his belly to reach in. The dog looked at him with terrified blue eyes, cowering back from him.
"It's okay…it's okay, come on. Please come out of there so that this tree doesn't slip and kill me," he murmured desperately. He knew that was a possibility and he was currently risking his life for what looked like a blue great dane puppy. "Come on, Harold." He whistled. "Come boy."
"Harold! Come, boy!" Makoa made a clicking sound behind Chuck which did the trick, and the dog carefully picked its way out of the trench with its big, dopey paws. Chuck got his arm around its sturdy body and gave it a tug, dragging it through the muck towards him and rolling out of danger.
He sat up as the tree went crashing down next to him and found the big paws on his shoulders, an excited, scared dog burrowing itself against him. A thick skull bashed into his chin hard and he groaned, letting go of the dog so that it could bound towards its owner.
And then he just sat there, gaping at his own lap and rubbing his chin.
The drizzle had stopped at least. But he was wet and muddy, and sweaty now.
A large hand landed on his head and another swept down in front of his face. He slapped his own hand into it and he was hefted to his feet by Makoa's father. "Thank you…"
"Chuck," he offered, a crooked, breathless smile on his face.
"Chuck." The man shook his head. "Benny. You did a good thing today, Chuck. Let me go up and offer you something. Coffee. Money. I'll pay you for—"
"Nah, no." Chuck swept his hand through the air, dismissing the father's offer. "Please. Just glad your, uh, your dog is safe. And your son."
Benny nodded and grinned at him. "I won't forget what you did, braddah."
Chuck grinned back and patted the man's shoulder, then knelt down and patted the dog's head as Makoa hugged him with every ounce of his strength. He looked like he had some scratches from the branches, and he was panting from fear, but nothing looked broken. It felt a little like a miracle.
Makoa looked up at him then and grinned. "Thanks!" Then he looked at Sarah. "Thank you!"
After a few more words exchanged, Chuck and Sarah trudged back over to her car, side by side. He felt Sarah's eyes on him, but he just kept his gaze on his destination. His arms felt like jelly after the effort he put into levering that tree off the ground. He just wanted a shower and tea. And maybe to talk to his sister on the phone.
"Have you done that before?" Sarah asked then as they reached the car. She was eyeing him closely as she pushed some hair that escaped her braid from her face. Really closely, he thought. And he wondered why.
"No." He let out a huff and widened his eyes. "Spur of the moment idea I had. Didn't even know if it'd work."
"How'd you think of that?"
"Uh, I dunno. All those physics classes at Stanford, maybe. Those God awful word problems probably had something like this in them and my brain drudged it up outta nowhere so we could save that cute big ol' dopey puppy."
She went around to her side of the car and peered at him over the roof. But she didn't say anything.
Chuck stopped himself before he got in her car. "Hey, uh…I'm wet and muddy. And your car…"
"There was just a hurricane that fucked up my island, Chuck. Do you think I care about some water and mud inside my car?" She gave him a flat look, a bit of a smile on her face, and he shrugged and got in, fastening his seatbelt again.
But he found her hands on the side of his face and she pulled him in, smacking a hard kiss on his lips.
She pulled back just enough to look at him then, and he just gaped at her, lips pursed still.
"That was pretty amazing, Curls. You need to know that."
Chuck licked his lips and smiled. "Oh. Yeah, I…it was…um…"
"It wasn't nothing," she said steadily. But there was almost a thoughtfulness to the way she gnawed on her bottom lip and let go of him, starting her car and heading back onto the road to take him the rest of the way home.
}o{
Two hours later, Chuck sat in his bathtub, listening to his phone dial his sister's number. He'd put it on speaker phone and set it away from the tub. He didn't need to accidentally drop his cellphone in a tub full of water while on vacation. The hurricane was enough, he didn't need that too.
Ellie picked up in two seconds flat, practically. "Chuck!"
He jumped. "Whoa. Yes. Hi."
"I was expecting you to call a lot earlier, considering the news was saying the hurricane had finally moved past the islands. What took you so long?"
Chuck didn't need to go too in detail, he thought. So he just lounged back against the tub and said, "Well, reception wasn't great until I got back to my hotel after the storm."
His eyes popped as he realized belatedly what he'd just said. Maybe he'd gotten a little too relaxed? Damn… Maybe she missed the implications. Sure, of course she did.
"You just got back to your hotel…meaning you weren't in the hotel during the storm? Where the hell were you?"
Never mind.
"Uuuuuuhhh…"
"Chuck. They said that was one of the slowest hurricanes they've seen. Apparently it just kept dumping water on parts of Hawaii and now there's flooding. A few people are missing on the big island. I swear to God, if you did something stupid, I'll strangle you when you get home."
He rolled his eyes. "Ellie. I'm not Awesome. What d'you think, I grabbed my kayak and an oar and waited on the beach for the tide to come sweep me up?"
"Devon wouldn't do that. And you didn't answer my question. If you weren't at your hotel, where were you?"
"At a friend's house. I was all nervous after I talked to you and then Morgan sent me this clip from a hurricane movie that scared the shit out of me, and I didn't want to be at a beachside hotel anymore. Call me crazy!"
"Oh." He could hear her wince. "Sorry. I wasn't trying to freak you out, but I wanted you to at least be…you know, prepared. Taking precautions. We're Californians. We don't do hurricanes."
"Exactly why I packed a bag and went to my friend's house. Sh—They, uh, they live up from the water a bit more. On sort of a hill. And we fortified the house, then hunkered down."
"You said 'sh', Chuck. 'Sh' as in the two letters that 'she' starts with. This friend of yours…did she happen to be the same scuba instructor Morgan spilled his guts about to me the other day?"
Chuck groaned. "Since when do you talk to Morgan without using hexes and curses?"
"He called me worried about you because of the hurricane. Devon invited him for dinner and we all sat staring at the Weather Channel for a few hours while eating tacos, terrified you were going to get sucked into the funnel."
He narrowed his eyes. "God, we're all such Californians."
"Yup."
Chuck hoped the subject had successfully been changed, but of course it hadn't been. He really needed to stop being so hopeful.
"So tell me about her."
"Nah, that's okay."
"Why not?"
"Because I'm really trying to figure it out, El. To be honest with you. While not trying to figure it out because I sort of just want to enjoy spending time with her without this cloud of…future…hanging over my head. That's why."
She paused. "That sounds…kind of serious. I thought maybe you guys flirted on the boat and are going out on dates here and there but you just sounded kind of serious, Chuck."
"I did not. All I said is I'm just having fun with her. Enjoying it. That's not serious-sounding."
Ellie's voice was flat as she corrected him. "I was talking about the tone of your voice being serious, Chuck."
He huffed. "Look, she's a really fun person to be around. She's a great girl. And it's been nice not just doing stuff alone during my trip so far."
Chuck felt the way Ellie was holding back through the speaker. Like a suppressed tension emanating from his phone. "So is she going with you to sight-see?"
"Not every time, no. But I mean, she's…shown me stuff." He heard a pause. "Don't," he said quickly. "Don't even go there."
"Wha—Eww, Chuck. Who the hell do you think I am? Devon? Morgan? I wasn't even thinking in that way, you dingus. I was going to ask her name."
Chuck blinked. "Oh. Right. Sorry. My bad."
"But obviously that's where your brain went."
"Shh. No. Shut up. It isn't. Don't read into that. Her name is Sarah."
"Saaarah, huh? Hmmmm."
"What. What hmmm."
Ellie affected an innocent tone. "Nothing. I didn't mean anything by my hmm. Just…hmmm."
"Is there something I need to know about the name Sarah?"
"Nope. Sarah's a lovely name. Sarah the scuba diving instructor. I like it. She sounds adventurous if that's her job. Is she taking you out of your comfort zone? Please say yes. I have this abject fear you're going to spend all these weeks in Kauai and never jump off of a cliff into water."
"Why the hell would I jump off a cliff for any reason?"
"That's what you do in Hawaii, Chuck!"
"No luaus, huh? Just jumping off cliffs."
Ellie made a frustrated sound. "Well, anyway…you two were all cooped up in Sarah's house for a hurricane, huh? How'd that go?" How was he supposed to answer that? "I mean, that's kind of scary, a hurricane. Or really scary. I mean, and you—Did you ask her if you could stay? Or did she invite you and you said yes?"
"I-I don't remember."
"That means you probably just showed up and you're embarrassed about it. Which means…she saw you…vulnerable. Oooohhhh, Chuuuuck…"
Chuck thunked his head against the tub. "I hate you."
"I hate you! Why didn't you tell me you'd met a girl?"
"This. This is the reason. This conversation."
She laughed. "Touché. Look, I'm not gonna get on your ass or keep asking you about her. You're a grown man. You can handle this on your own. But, you know, if you want some advice…"
"I don't."
"I'm around."
"Great. Won't be takin' you up on that."
"Mhm. Okay. I'm just around though."
"Thanks, El. Got it. You're around….aaan insane asylum?"
"That was stupid."
"A home for nosey sisters?"
"That was even worse than the first one."
"A hospital where they treat diseases like BusyBodyness."
"And that was the worst one. Okay, I'm hanging up."
He laughed. "Love you, sis."
"Love you. Glad you didn't get sucked into a funnel."
"That isn't how hurricanes work."
"Uhhhh, okay, I think it is, but whatever. Tell Sarah hi and that I said you're such a good boy and worth all the trouble."
"I'm genuinely about to disown you, and no I will not tell her any of that."
"Not even the hi part?"
Chuck groaned. "No, of course not. Then she'll know that I was talking to you about her and she'll…think things. I'm trying to…not…I don't know."
"Be intense? You tend to do that, buddy…"
He frowned. "Yeah, I know."
"Just be yourself."
"Oh, God. And on that note…"
Ellie laughed, said her goodbye, and they both hung up. Maybe he should've just dropped his phone into the bathtub. He heard a deedle dee sound from his phone and reached out to dry his hand and look.
It was a text from Ellie that just said, EEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE! There. Needed to get it out somewhere.
Chuck laughed and slipped his entire head under the water.
A/N: Ellie is the greatest. Dogs are the greatest. Reviews are the greatest.
-SC