The Model Agent
By SarahsSupplyCloset
Author's Note: I was told to put more plot into this. I have a suggestion. You write a fic and put more plot in it. And let me write what I want. Thanks!
Summary: Sarah Walker's modeling career is in its budding stages when the CIA recruits her into their ranks at 16. 10 years later, she's balancing being a world famous supermodel and actress with spying for the CIA. Her existence is fraught with danger and she's constantly on the go, until she meets a disarmingly sincere man on the beach...and her life is changed forever.
Disclaimer: I do not own CHUCK. I am not making any money writing this story.
Chuck shoved his laptop into his messenger bag and tugged on his suit, glancing at himself in the screen of his desktop. Gah, he couldn't even see anything. He had no idea if his hair looked like shit or not.
His office door opened and Morgan poked his head in. "Oh hey boss."
He gave the bearded man a flat look. "You know it weirds me out when you call me boss, Morgan. We've been best friends since we were 5."
"21 beautiful years, Chuck." Morgan cheesed, crossing his arms. He shut the door behind him then and wandered in. "What's the get-up? Whistle whistle."
"Did…Did you just SAY whistle whistle instead of just whistling?"
"Yeah. I told you, man! The beard needs a trim and I can't whistle properly 'til it gets the trim." He acted all offended, like he'd actually said this to Chuck before. Granted, maybe he had and it was so weird it had gone in one ear and out the other.
"Morgan, you do realize scissors exist and you can just use 'em. Or, you can shave. Like me." He rubbed his hand over his face. "Nada there. So smooth."
"Ugh gross."
Chuck laughed and threw a pen at him.
"No but seriously, hubba hubba Chuck. You look all snazzed up. That suit is very nice fitting. And it's got a little sheen to it too. Is it new?"
"That fact that you are aware of the different suits I have in my closet is a little disconcerting."
"I'm your best friend, dude."
"Still disconcerting."
"You not answering my question is disconcerting. And your hair is all…fixed."
"Yeah, I've got a meeting," he lied, and he felt terrible.
"A meeting." He narrowed his eyes. "With whom?"
"Okay, now I am your boss. You are the head of the sales team. You worry about that part of the business, I'll worry about this part huh?"
Morgan rolled his eyes. "Pulling rank on me. Okay, fine. Fine fine. Don't tell me."
"I did tell you. It's just a meeting. I'm not even sure who is going to be there when I show up." A tall, mesmerizingly brilliant, tantalizingly stunning, cheeky, funny, witty, cool supermodel and actress. That was his hope at least. It'd be weird if he showed up at her place in an hour and it was someone else who answered the door.
"I see, I see. Go with the most impressive get-up, just in case. Worse case scenario, you're a little overdressed."
"Exactly," Chuck said, pointing. "How's the hair? A little more, erm, subdued than usual?"
"Is…that what you're going for?"
"Yeeees." He gave Morgan a dubious look.
"Then yep. Totally. Subdued."
Chuck narrowed his eyes. "Fine. Whatever, man. I'm taking your word for it 'til I get to a proper mirror. I just wanted to pick up some things because I'm planning on working from home tomorrow."
"Long weekend, eh?"
"Yeah, I'm…"
Morgan nodded. "Run down. I know. We all know. Take your long weekend. Go to the beach. If you want to hit the arcade at any point this weekend, though, you got my digits." He threw his fingers up and made gun noises with his mouth.
"Got it," the taller of the two chuckled. "I'll see ya, man. Thanks for all your hard work, huh?"
"Yeah well… Thanks for the job."
They laughed together at their age old inside joke and Chuck hugged his best friend on the way out, squeezing a bit tighter than usual, a wordless apology for lying through his teeth.
But Sarah asked him to keep their budding romance a secret. And he wasn't going to risk jeopardizing this before it really even got started. Someday, if all of this worked out, and he was going to do everything he could to make sure this all worked out, Chuck knew he'd be able to tell Morgan everything. And his little buddy would understand. So would Ellie.
But for right now, he had to admit even if it was quietly to himself, it kind of sucked.
He'd get over it.
In 45 minutes or so, he'd be pulling into a garage apparently, a private garage that was underneath what he assumed was her house which was up on the hill off of Laurel Canyon.
She texted him the directions. And he glanced at her text again as he swung into his car.
Really, he'd gone into the office to tie up a few loose ends because he intended to see Sarah Walker tonight, tomorrow, the day after, and the day after that if he could. And work? Well, he wanted that to be the last thing he had to worry about if everything worked out.
He didn't understand this and he was going with it anyway.
Sarah Walker was like this high he couldn't get enough of now. He'd been thinking about her all day. It didn't make sense at all, that she kept wanting this, wanting him. Wanting to see him.
Chuck would never disrespect her enough to think his money had anything to do with it. She genuinely seemed to like him, to like being around him. And anyway, she had plenty of her own money.
He knew what it felt like when a woman was only interested in him for his money, access to his deep pockets. When the money started coming crashing in and he was thrust into the world of the rich not quite famous, he'd seen the woman who flirted with him all night for who she was, for what she was doing. He'd read it. And the guys he'd been with had encouraged the whole thing. He'd been 23, Jill was still stinging hard, so he'd slept with her. And he woke up the next morning feeling absolutely gross and terrible. He'd apologized, and she left confused. He never called her and she never called him either.
This wasn't anywhere near that.
And it wasn't anything like what he'd had with Jill either. But he shut the voice up that even mentioned Jill really quick. He didn't want that woman in his head tonight or any night.
It was over. She was long gone. And the sting was maybe…still kind of there. But it had nothing to do with the woman and everything to do with the cheating.
Shaking himself, he turned his music up and maneuvered his car down Sunset, making his way towards Laurel Canyon, ready to ascend into the heavens where his angel awaited.
He laughed at himself for being such an idiot, ignoring the strange look the old woman in the car next to him at the stoplight sent him.
+ —
Sarah lit the candle in the middle of the table and tugged a little on her dress. Maybe it wasn't right, taking one of the dresses from studio's backlog for a date, but it was such a stunning dress and nobody would notice. There were thousands of dresses in there and they'd just stay there forever anyway.
She'd sneak it back next week.
And in the meantime, Chuck might appreciate it more than it was being appreciated hanging from a freaking rack in the dark underbelly of a fashion designer's gigantic, multi-level studio, damn it.
She really, really hoped he would.
She had also splurged on a gourmet dinner. As weird as it had felt to ask him to be as on time as possible, she was timing the food delivery and laying it out on the plates perfectly so that he might knock on the door and they could immediately sit down to eat.
The knock on the door was five minutes early.
Good boy, she thought to herself, raising her eyebrows.
She hurried through the house to the door, pat at her blond waves she'd worked on meticulously, smoothed a hand down her black dress, and whipped the door open. Her grin died immediately.
"Casey, what the h—"
"Update on Menken." He unceremoniously shoved his way inside.
"Can you, like, email it to me maybe?" He gave her a look like she'd sprouted a few extra heads. "I've got a date and he's about to get here."
He sniffed the air. "Aw man, is that ribeye? You wastin' ribeye on this doofus?"
"Shut up. He's not a doofus, evidenced by the massively important and successful tech corporation he started, owns, and manages."
"If Zuckerberg and Musk can fuckin' do it…"
"Okay, that's a point. But this guy is a genius, okay? And he's sweet. And he's about to be here. So if we can get the show on the road or something, that'd be great."
"The bugs you planted are working. The director thinks we'll have enough of a case to bring to the AG, and maybe even the DOJ. You did good work, Walker."
"I almost died. I almost got run the fuck over and shot. But great, that's great news."
"Hey." He spread his hands out at his sides. "Now hold on. We been after this piece of shit for 2 years. Read 'em." He held up his fingers. "2! The feds been workin' on him a whole lot longer'n that. I'm happy for you with your little date n' shit, but this has way bigger implications. Innocent people were killed by this shitface."
"I know." She pinched the bridge of her nose. "I know, Casey. I know. I just…I don't get a break from any of this. Ever."
"Part of the job." He shrugged. "It's tough, kid. But there it is."
Before either of them could say anything else, there was a shuffle of feet out on the small porch. Casey hadn't shut the door when he came in. Actually SHE hadn't shut the door. She still even had her hand on it.
And in spite of the both of them turning and seeing Chuck amble up the last steps and make his way towards the doorway, a smile on his face, he reached in and awkwardly knocked on the door with the back of his hand. "Uh…Sorry. That was…weird."
"Yup," Casey agreed with no shame or politeness whatsoever, amusement and mockery spilling throughout his tone.
She shot him a warning look. Shit, she didn't want these two meeting yet. She really didn't want John Casey's brusque…everything, his general rudeness, and obvious refusal to respect his partner's new romance to offend Chuck, or hurt his feelings, or scare him off.
And this was such a new thing, Chuck meeting Casey—her driver, her PARTNER—felt too soon.
"Hi," she said warmly.
"Hi." Still, he stayed out on the other side of the threshold, on the porch, even as he grinned at her. He cleared his throat and turned to wave at Casey. "Hi. I, um, you must—you must be the driver. I mean, Sarah's driver. Hopefully. I mean, since we're… Ahem, I mean, because nobody else is…supposed to…know. Yeah." He winced, obviously having trouble getting his footing in this situation.
Fuck the CIA, honestly.
It was supposed to go like this. Chuck would park, walk up the steps to her main level, knock, she'd answer the door, they'd greet one another, she'd kiss him. They'd maybe kiss a little longer than was necessary. Then she'd lead him through to the dining room where she set up their feast with wine and champagne. They'd eat. Everything would be perfect.
Instead, she got … fucking THIS.
Casey snickered. "No, actually. I'm from TMZ, doing an article on the rich and famous. Aren't you that, uh, nerdy tech fella? Oh boy, can't wait to write about this. You two an item?"
"Shut the fuck up, John," she emphasized, glaring at him. Chuck looked both confused and stricken. "This is my driver, John Casey. He's my driver because he's too much of a jackass to do any other job."
Casey's smirk died and he curled his lip at her. But she saw the amusement underneath, the sparkle in his eyes.
"Oh. Ha! Haha! Heh." Chuck gulped. "That was good. TMZ. It's Nerd Tech Incorpo…rated. You know what? Doesn't matter. I'm Chuck. Chuck Bartowski. It's good to meet you, sir." He reached out a hand for Casey to shake.
Casey narrowed his eyes, looked at Chuck's hand…which was starting to waver, and Sarah gave him her best glare, which caused him to give the slightest eye roll before he shook Chuck's hand. "Charmed. I'm sure." He cleared his throat. "You can keep calling me sir, though, that's okay by me."
"That'll be all, John," she said in a crisp voice.
"Hey." He pointed at her. "Don't you use that talkin-at-the-help voice with me, missy. I knew you when you were still wearing training bras." He chuckled at her horrified look then moved to walk past Chuck.
But then he stopped at the last second and curled his fist around Chuck's tie, leaning his face in close to the younger man's. Oh God. Not this. "I'll be right outside," he said threateningly.
"No. You won't be. Because you're going home. You have the night off, Casey. G'night. I'll call you if I need you tomorrow. Enjoy your weekend. Bye!" She shoved him out of the door, then slammed it shut, unceremoniously pulling Chuck out of the way of it.
She spun on her literal heels to face her date and gave him an apologetic look. "Hi, I'm sorry about every single thing that just happened, and I'm also sorry for rushing you through my house without a tour or anything, but the food is plated and I don't want you to have to eat cold ribeye."
Sarah winced and grabbed his arms, moving up onto her tiptoes to kiss his cheek, since that was all she really trusted herself with, and she dragged him by his hand through the entryway, through the kitchen, and into the dining room. "Uh, sit wherever."
She felt like she was blowing this.
But she didn't have much experience with things like this. Inviting a man over, setting up a romantic dinner, lighting a candle… This much effort wasn't her thing.
And she realized belatedly that this was yet another move on her part that belied her usual treatment of the men she was seeing. Things were usually frenzied, fast, a whirlwind, no or few strings attached, because it worked for her, and it worked for them. Except for the time she was used. That…had been less fun. The couple of times she was used if she was honest.
Sarah swallowed hard and pushed all of that out of her head. "Um, you want to sit there?" She pointed since he didn't make any sort of move to pick a seat for himself.
"Yes. Sure. Absolutely. Can I help with anything or—Oh, it looks like…"
"Yeah, it's all here. Already." She cleared her throat. "Which is why I, like, rushed you in here. To eat. 'Cuz…cold food."
"Right! Of course! Makes sense." He hurried to her chair and held it gallantly for her to sit and she giggled at him, shaking her head, sitting, scooting in, and he rushed around to his spot and sat. "This looks so amazing. Oh my God. Did you cook it—"
"God no!" She winced at how harsh it sounded, the way she blurted it out like that. "I just… Sorry. No, I can't cook this well. I can…I mean, I do cook for myself. But… I'm actually kind of good if I have the time to make…the effort. It—"
"No, no. I totally get it. I was gonna be super shocked that you cooked for me. Not that I assumed you couldn't! Of course you can. I mean, not OF COURSE, I mean some people can't and that's okay. I was just…you don't have to cook for me, totally an unexpected thing…if you had. Which you…didn't." He narrowed his eyes at himself, shutting up.
Sarah cleared her throat, draping her cloth napkin over her lap. "Um, red wine?"
"Yes. Definitely."
"Maybe the champagne can be after we eat?"
"Champagne? Wow. Yeah. Perfect."
This was all very…not smooth. At all. And she was so frustrated because she'd tried so damn hard. And she'd had such an insane day and she was so tired on the inside and all she'd wanted was to romance this really, really good man who made HER feel good.
But she managed to pour the wine, and she liked him all the better for letting her do it instead of trying to do it for her like she couldn't do it herself.
"Shall we cheers?" she asked, sitting again and lifting her glass towards him.
"Yes! Absolutely." He raised his as well. "To not-cold food."
She laughed, blushing. "Well, I tried." She clinked her glass to his. "Cheers."
"Cheers."
They sipped and just sat there then, the two of them, their food between them, the candle burning bright. Sarah let out a rough sigh and shook her head.
"Sorry, this is…awkward and uncomfortable, isn't it? This started out as a mess and it's snowballing." She shook her head, holding up a hand when he looked like he meant to deny it or reassure her. She sent him a warm, self-deprecating smile. "What with the whole thing at the door with John and… Yeah, that wasn't supposed to happen. And then I wanted this to be…perfect. I have to just be honest with you, Chuck. This isn't me. I mean, it is. I'm me! Obviously." She gestured to everything on the table. "But I'm not good at…this. Slowing down and setting up the food and the candle and…the ambiance or whatever. Having a legitimate date like this. I'm terrible at this part of life. So that's why this date started off so weird." She tucked her hair behind her ear, blushing. "Sorry. I bet the food's gonna be good though."
He gave her that slow grin and her heart thudded wildly in her chest. "First of all, I can smell it. And it smells like it's gonna be fuckin' amazing. Secondly, I don't require an apology for any of this. Especially not… Well, I mean, you don't have to say you're sorry for trying to make this all romantic when that isn't—Well, you said, it's not really your thing. A-Anyway, you know what? It's okay. Let's just rewind. Go back. Start it over."
Chuck extended his right hand across their plates of food for her to take. His eyes were soft and kind, beautiful in the candle light, and God, she took his hand and it was perfectly warm and wrapped so nicely around hers. "Hi. My name's Chuck Bartowski."
She raised her eyebrows. "We're going back THAT far?" He cracked up, blushing. "Wow. Okay, but there was a lot of sex that happened, so we're not just gonna try to push that out of our minds, right? Kind of hard for a girl to forget when a guy does to her what you did to me late last night." His hand was still entrapped by hers so she gave it an extra squeeze.
Chuck took a deep breath, giving her a warning look, even as his eyes sparkled wonderfully. "Tread lightly, Sarah Walker, if you really want to be eating this food while it's hot."
She pulled her hands away and held them up by her head, a cheeky look on her face. "Noted. Dig in, nerd."
"Don't mind if I do. Love a good ribeye."
And so the ice was broken, and she melted into her chair, the food practically disintegrating in her mouth, the harshness of her morning melting out of her mind.
+ —
Chuck gawked.
He full on gawked at what he saw in front of him.
"And then we have—" He felt her tug on his hand but he resisted her pulling her to the next thing.
"Hold on, hold on, hold on." He shook his head. "You have a whole gym. Like, all the equipment is in here."
"Yeah." She shrugged.
"What's—What's this?" He mimicked her shrug. "What's that about?" He did it again, making her laugh. "This is a whole gym. This is brilliant. I should get a house and make a whole gym. I wouldn't ever have to leave home and I'd probably be in super shape like my sister's boyfriend."
Sarah giggled and shook her head. "I have to tell you, doing a full workout regimen is still hard, even when the gym is in your house. The goalposts move. Where you're probably like, eh, I don't want to get in my car and drive to the gym, I'm now in my bed, like, I don't want to go downstairs to get to the gym."
He cracked up. "That oddly makes sense."
"Yep. Goalposts move."
She seemed surprised when he walked into the gym then, picking up the giant round exercise ball and hoisting it onto his back, kneeling down. "The weight of the worrrldddd," he groused in a strained voice.
Sarah laughed, hunching forward. "You are such a goofball."
He put it down again, beaming at her, and he sat on it. "So what do you do with this? Do you bounce?" He bounced a little and she laughed, joy emanating from her. That was a good indicator that he was striking gold, and he continued with his antics. "Or is it like a back stretching thing?" He let himself arch back and he went limp. "Oh that's good."
"Come on, you freaking dork." She was standing over him then, reaching down to grab his hands and pull him up. He hopped up to his full height, off of the ball, and stood close to her, realizing he hadn't properly kissed her yet after the flurry at her front door and the rushing to the dinner table.
He helped her with piling the dishes, which she refused to clean just yet, and she'd insisted on giving him a tour.
And here they were. He wanted to kiss her. But before he could, she bit her lip, giving him a coy look and slipping her hand in his, leading him out of the gym.
He let himself be pulled, a dreamy smile on his face.
"Laundry room. That's…less exciting," she teased, rushing him past a door that was slightly ajar.
"Wait, I want to know if you have your own dry cleaning machinery in here too."
"Shut up!" she laughed, and he gave her a cheeky grin.
They moved into a living room that had massive Spanish style windows that were letting in the remaining light from the sun that had nearly set now. And Chuck stopped mid-stride, his jaw falling open again. "Oh my God, this view."
"Yeah," she said, giving him a shy shrug, leading him to one of the windows so that he could really see the view.
Los Angeles spread far below. He could see downtown, and if he looked more to the right, the sun was setting over the Pacific Ocean. It sent the best kind of shiver through him. "You see this every single day."
"When I'm here," she said with a shrug. "Sometimes it makes more sense for me to be at my condo downtown. You know, if I'm working late or early or I have to be at a studio that's right there. For a photoshoot or whatever."
"She's beautiful, the city of angels, isn't she?" he breathed.
"I love it here. It has its own vibe that's unlike anything else in the world. And I've been all over the world," she said. She took his hand again and pulled him to glass double doors, unlocking it and sliding it open, stepping out onto a back patio with a jacuzzi and a small pool. There was a stone wall down at the bottom of the property, and then the hill slipped down into other properties below. There was such a subtle privacy to this place that Chuck wondered if it wasn't absolutely perfect for someone who seemed to have trouble getting away from her fame.
"LA definitely has its drawbacks, I'll say it," he said with a shrug, loving the way the breeze picked up her hair and let it dance against her shoulders. In the orange, waning daylight, her blond locks were dazzling. And her blue eyes were mesmerizing. "But the good far outweighs the bad. I wouldn't wanna live anywhere else."
She turned to smile at him. "Me too."
"Well, I mean, you've got this nice pool. Where else would you even wanna go?"
Sarah laughed, pressing her weight into his arm and wrapping both of her hands around one of his. "Don't forget about the jacuzzi. It's kinda the best part."
"I'm so sorry, Mr. Jacuzzi. My apologies." He bowed his head to it formally.
"Miss, actually." He gave her a questioning look and she struck him with a perfectly serious look. "It's MISS Jacuzzi."
He cracked up. "God I like you." He turned away from her, somehow yanking his gaze from her beautiful wide grin, and bowed again to the jacuzzi. "Pardon me. I'm so sorry, MISS Jacuzzi."
"She says you're forgiven and she even invited you to try her out sometime." She propped her chin on his shoulder and tilted her head. He met her eyes and smiled slowly, giving her a questioning look. She raised her eyebrows and nodded. "I extend the invitation as well. For the record."
This time Chuck shivered for a completely different reason. "Well that's a major fuck yes."
Sarah didn't seem to expect that and she burst into laughter. "Come back inside. I want you to see the rest of my house."
He liked this. He loved it even. That he was getting a tour of her house. It felt like trust. This was someone who had to guard herself, protect herself, as much as she had to thanks to how apparently famous she was. He imagined she couldn't let many people in on these little bits of her life, or anyone really. He imagined it was hard to trust people. And he wondered if she'd been used, seen as a meal ticket, taken advantage of because of her fame and her wealth.
It had sucked when it happened to him, sure, but the thought of someone doing that to Sarah made his blood absolutely boil.
He actually looked at the living room this time as they stepped back inside in a way he hadn't when the view had loomed out through the large windows earlier, distracting him from everything else. It was comfortable, but sparsely furnished. A nice L couch, a large TV with an older model of a Roku, a record player and a basket with maybe 20 or so magazines in it at most. And a small double speaker set-up, but no vinyls that he could see from where he stood. He slotted that into his mind for later. There was a comfortable looking plush chair that matched the couch, a tall modernist lamp in the corner.
Not a single thing was out of place.
And as she walked him through to the downstairs bedroom, she pointed inside. "I have this here in case John—erm, my driver?—in case he needs to stay here because it's late, he's driven me to some party or something and it's, like, 2 or 3 in the morning. He's got his own bathroom and bedroom, and a little balcony off to the side too but he very rarely uses it. Such a waste." She smirked, leading him away from the room.
John Casey, was it? He was… Well. "He seems like a really interesting guy," he said out loud. "John. Your driver."
"Ah." She widened her eyes. "He's interesting." Sarah winced then. "Kind of an asshole to you earlier, though, and I'm sorry. If it makes you feel better, he usually just completely ignores the guys I see, as if they don't exist at all. So I'd wager this is a step up."
Chuck raised his eyebrows. "Really?"
"Mhm." She smiled, her eyes bright. "For the record, it's really very cute how excited your face got right there. And I-I know he's really the only person in my life you've met, he's the only person in my life you're GOING to meet," she said with a wince, and he couldn't help the twinge of discomfort in his chest at that, "But you don't need his approval to date me. The only approval you need is mine."
"Sure, I know that. But I wouldn't be upset if I did get his approval. You two seem kinda close."
She giggled with a shrug, taking him back out to the front of the house where there were stairs. "Sometimes we are. Sometimes I wanna murder him. He's my driver, sort of bodyguard, right? But he's so obnoxious about certain things."
"Overprotective?" he asked as they climbed the stairs. They were covered in old Spanish style tiles. It felt very Southern Californian. Very Los Angeles. And if this wasn't clearly a modern house built to specifically not feel like a "modern" house, Chuck could swear some old movie star had lived in it in the '20s.
"I guess so, yes. Like an uncle rather than a driver."
"Oooof." He nodded. "I can't entirely empathize, since I don't have assholes with cameras chasing me around town trying to make a buck off one of my missteps." She gave him a wry look over her shoulder as she reached the second floor landing. "But I do have a big sister who, for all intents and purposes, is the best big sister ever. EVER. She, um, does get a little too…momish. And I really can't blame her for that because it was literally just us growing up so she did kind of have to be my sister AND my mom, pfft AND my dad, but I'm like, El, I'm 26. I'm not 12 anymore. You don't have to obsess and stress over my dating life, I promise." He groaned and rolled his eyes.
"Another guest bedroom here…" He hummed in approval as she pointed at the room inside. The bedrooms she didn't use as often didn't have much in them, a bed and a dresser, a nightstand, curtains over the windows, and that was really it. "Guest bath. The other guest bath is at the end of the hall in that direction, and then there's the one you saw downstairs, and a fourth one that's the master." She cleared her throat. "I can't say I blame your sister for wanting to protect you. You're…" She stopped halfway down the hallway and spun to face him, suddenly enough that his chest bumped hers before he could halt. "You're kind of special. Priceless."
He loved the shy look she got on her face then, as if she wasn't used to saying things like that to people. "Well, thank you. And I don't blame her as much as I just want her to not make herself sick over wondering if I'll end up forever alone."
"Oh God!" She laughed. "That's dramatic. You're kind of a catch. The very successful tech corporation you're CEO of notwithstanding, you look very good in this suit." Her eyes ran down his body and slowly swiped them back up to his face. "No way are you gonna be forever alone. Unless you specifically want it that way."
"Well, I mean yeah. Anyone with my kind of money is a catch for anyone who wants the kind of life where you never have to worry where your next meal is coming from." He shrugged.
"Somebody really hurt you," she said quietly then, and he blanched. She must've seen it because she winced. "I'm sorry. That wasn't any of my business to say."
"It's okay," he chuckled good-naturedly. "Wasn't everybody hurt by someone?" And at the moment, that was really all he wanted to say about it. Ellie's words before the last blind date she set him up on, months ago now, were still cemented in his brain. Do not talk about Jill to this girl, Chuck. RESIST IT.
She was absolutely right.
"I guess you're right, sure. My point that I was trying to make, though, is that your money isn't the only thing you've got going for yourself. That was…what I was TRYING to say, at least." She fidgeted a bit.
"Sweet of you to say so," he said, smiling at her. And while he knew Sarah Walker hadn't invited him into her home for his money or his successful corporation, he still couldn't figure out what it was that did make her invite him.
This was an actual house, in the hills above LA proper. With an address she actually texted him. And with how many people there probably were out there in the world who would sell their soul to the devil for this information—not just paparazzi but crazy fans and a slew of men and teenaged boys who were probably obsessed with the stunning supermodel—she'd entrusted him with this place.
And she really hadn't known him long at all.
"What?" she asked, eyeing him dubiously as she took his hand and led him further down the hallway.
"Hm? Nothing. I—" He sighed. "Okay, full disclosure. I'm still trying to sort of figure out how I got here."
"Oh. Yeah, sometimes these roads in the hills are winding and confusing. And GPS gets lost a lot up here."
He chuckled. It was genuinely adorable that was where her mind had gone. "No, I-I mean…you invited me to your home. You trusted me with your address to your actual home."
Sarah halted outside of dark wood double doors he assumed led to the master bedroom. It seemed like it could be big enough in there that it would take up a whole wing of the house.
She raised her eyebrows at him and bit the inside of her cheek, her gaze diverting to the side. "Whoa now, Chuck. Simmer down, there. This isn't one of my super private residences that not even Casey gets the deets on. I have two of those."
"Ah. Right." He clicked his teeth and gave her an embarrassed wince. "I got a little too excited huh? You invite people here a lot."
"Not a lot. I didn't mean to make you…"
He rushed in when she seemed not to know how to finish that. "You didn't. You're right. Of course you have friends and you've dated people and you've had parties and stuff. That was… I got caught up in the whole super private celebrity life bullshit that the rest of us get spoon fed by the media from the time we're tots, but don't actually know the reality of it."
Sarah smiled quietly and pushed down on the handles to the doors, sweeping them open with a flourish. "My second favorite place in the house. Ta da!"
So they were moving on from that conversation. Thank God. He felt embarrassment still coursing through him at how badly he'd played that.
"Oh wow, this is a great room. It's yours, I'm assuming. The one you sleep in, I mean."
"Among other things…" She laughed at his wide-eyed look and squeezed his arm. "You're too cute."
He blushed. "You, um, said SECOND favorite. If your bedroom's your second favorite, what's your first?"
"I'll get to that. But first, look at this bathroom. I'm pretty proud of it. Had a contractor come in last year and really fix it up."
She pushed open yet another door and he walked into a brown-tiled, dark paneled bathroom that looked like it was out of a 1920s border town movie. It was fully Spanish-style, with gorgeous artwork and a giant stand up shower surrounded by glass, a massive clawfoot tub in the corner, double sinks with an expansive mirror in a frame that matched the decor.
"Easily the coolest bathroom ever," he said. "For sure."
"I can't take that much credit, honestly. The contractor did most of it. If you, um, need a contractor ever…let me know. She's a genius. Her wife does the design part."
"Hey, thanks. Sounds great. I'll keep that in mind."
Silence pervaded between them again and he cleared his throat, tugging on his ear a little. "Your house is really beautiful. I love it a lot. I get tired of the…oh, I dunno."
"What?" she asked, tilting her head in interest.
"You know, Frank Lloyd Wright happened and everybody was like FLOOR TO CEILING WINDOWS and FLAT UGLY ROOF and STILTS UNDER MY HOUSE and it's just kinda uggo. That's just my opinion. I'm so sorry if you have a place that looks like that."
She cracked up. "You don't like a good 1950s space age home?"
"Interesting to look at," he chuckled, "But I wouldn't feel comfortable living in one."
"Too flat?"
"Too IKEA." She laughed and he gave her a slow grin. "Not just that but having windows in place of solid walls. That's a horror film house. You're just trying to read a book in your living room, next thing you know, you see a shadow out in the yard, someone watching, just standing there. And then you look again and they're gone. And you can't see them but they see you because your house doesn't have normal walls, they're just big ol' windows and you have all your lights on and you're just in there, a target."
Sarah's eyes widened as he kept talking. "You've thought about this a lot, huh?"
"So much," he rushed out, making her laugh again. "Too many murders happen to rich people in houses like that."
"…In movies."
"I mean, why is it in movies if it isn't something that's happened in real life too?"
Giggling, she slipped her hands into both of his and walked him past the bed. He wouldn't be human if he didn't catch himself gazing at its forest green duvet, the matching pillows, the sloping brass bars of the headboard. "I want you to see my favorite place in the house." She cutely twisted her face up in thought. "Well, maybe it isn't technically IN the house. But it's a part of it. C'mere."
"Oh, I'm comin'. Don't have much choice with this vise grip you've got on me."
"Oh God, vise grip. Shut up," she giggled, letting go of him to turn and unlock a sliding glass door he'd missed in the far corner of the room, past the master bath.
She pulled the door open, letting in the early evening breeze, the sun now set over the ocean, the sky turning from orange to a deep blue. She stepped out onto a small balcony, and he followed. It wasn't until he followed that he realized it was less of a balcony and more of a platform. A staircase led up the side of the house up onto the roof.
"Oooo, secret staircase!" He chuckled. "This is already cool."
"Go up," she instructed, putting her hands on his arm and gently guiding him to the staircase.
He hastened up onto the roof and gasped. It was a whole patio of sorts with a table and chairs, chaise lounges, and part of the house sloped up behind it, almost like an extra floor, but it was just another glass door that went into a smaller room that had another staircase going down from it.
"That's in case it's raining or something. I can sit in there and still enjoy the view from up here," she said, sidling up next to him and leaning her chin on his shoulder, pointing to the room.
"Where do those stairs go?"
"It's at the end of the hallway on the second floor, and then it goes down to the kitchen on the first floor, and the garage below that."
"You can go straight from the garage up to the roof?"
"I can."
"That's the coolest thing ever." And then he turned in the other direction and looked out over the view, completely in awe. "This place is like an embarrassment of riches in the view department. I mean, you can see so much. It's amazing."
"Yeah it was built so you can see in every direction but the one direction you don't really want to see which is…up the hill." She pointed past the indoor view area.
"I'm so impressed with this house. Your house. I can see why this is your favorite part of it. I think if this was my house, I'd stay up here pretty much all the time."
"I do a lot of the time. And nobody can really see me or anything when I'm up here. I've got the trees there." She pointed to the left. "It drops down there and there. So I don't have to worry about paps or stalkers."
Hearing her mention stalkers made an alarm go off in his chest and he stood up a little taller. "You-You have stalkers?"
"I probably do, yeah. If they could find me." She shrugged. "Anyone with fame has people who are obsessive about them. It's part of the…celebrity culture." She rolled her eyes. "Something I just have to deal with."
"You shouldn't have to deal with being stalked."
"Oh, don't worry, I've never found someone in my house or anything like that. Those horror stories you hear. I'm very careful about where I am and who knows about it." She took his hand and squeezed it, looking out at the Pacific again. "The paparazzi catch me out in public all the time," she said with another roll of her eyes, "but when I'm home, in my own private space, they can't touch me. And that makes it easy to stay safe from that creepy shit with fans."
Chuck sighed heavily. "I'm glad, but the thought of…" He shrugged, deciding not to go that hard at this point in their relationship. Getting caveman and protective over her. She wasn't the type of woman who would like that, he thought. And he didn't want to be the type of guy who did it.
"What?"
"I dunno. It's just not something I've ever had to worry about. I don't have that kind of celebrity. People don't care what I'm doing or where I am as long as our products continue to evolve with their needs." He chuckled. "I'm not complaining. It sounds kind of hard to have to deal with all of that."
"It is hard." She sighed. "And some days I do ask myself if the job is worth it. You know, the…rewards? Are they bigger than the drawbacks?" She crossed her arms and shrugged. "Most of the time they are. And that's good enough for me."
He smiled, taking in her profile, the orange light from the sunset playing on her face. "Well, I don't know all you go through as a full blown celebrity. So maybe I shouldn't even talk, but this house, this roof patio, this view? This'd be worth it for me."
Sarah giggled, leaning to the side to bump him with her shoulder. "Well, I do know what this life is like, and it's pretty worth it."
Smiling at her, he nodded. "I'm glad." He paused then, pursing his lips. "So, um, I noticed earlier. You said something about, uh, champagne?" She raised her eyebrow. "I'm just thinking, you know, the sun's down, it's going to get darker, the stars are going to come out, and we've got this…amazing spot to enjoy it. I feel like champagne would go really well." He realized he was taking control of the date then and he backtracked. "Unless you don't want to. I get it if you don't want to. This is your date. I mean…it's…we're on a date. But you're the one who planned this. So if you have other ideas…"
His voice faded as she stepped up to him and laid her hands gently on his forearms, stepping in close. "You're spiraling. Why are you spiraling?"
"I don't know. I felt like…I was on a rollercoaster, and I crested the top and suddenly plunged headfirst into the drop part of it and I couldn't stop myself from just… Words spilling out all over."
Sarah giggled and shook her head. "This isn't a rollercoaster. We're just here on my roof, the stars are coming out, and you had a pretty excellent idea about popping some champagne and bringing it up here."
He smiled slowly. "Thanks. I have these ideas sometimes."
She raised both eyebrows now. "And they become insanely successful tech corporations that are known the world 'round for reliability and affordability?"
Chuck snorted, narrowing his eyes playfully as she squeezed his arm and pulled him along with her to go back down inside. "Did you Google Nerd Tech Incorporated, Sarah Walker? And after we made a PACT?"
Laughing over her shoulder, she winked. "No, I did not. But I realized I actually have used some of your products without realizing they were NTI products. AND I hear things from people about your company all the time."
That first part made him feel pretty good, he found. She pushed open the sliding door when they got to the platform at the bottom of the outer staircase, stepping inside and waiting to shut it until he followed after her. "Oof. I hope not bad things," he said, wincing at the second part of what she said.
"All good. You're highly respected, Chuck Bartowski. Or, I guess I should say Charles."
"You can call me whatever you'd like."
That got him a saucy look. "Oh, really? Whatever I'd like? Sure you won't take that back?"
He paused. "I'm trying to think of something you could call me that would upset me. I guess maybe don't call me Pennywise the Clown." She burst into laughter, giving him a weirded out look. "That would…concern me greatly."
"You just ruined the mood. Killed it dead," she said, still laughing as they headed down the hallway to the staircase. "I mean, deader'n a doornail."
"If I had a nickel…"
"Oh shut up," she laughed.
As they moved back towards the kitchen, the front door opened behind them. Chuck felt Sarah's hand clamp down hard around his wrist and without him realizing how it even happened, Sarah put herself between him and the door, yanking him behind her.
She was completely tense until her driver stepped into the entryway and frowned. "The hell?" she gasped. "I thought you'd gone home."
Chuck was still caught up in the way she'd moved, how it had all been a split second thing, and how putting him behind her, protecting him, had seemed almost like an instinct.
"I was on my way but you're uh…" The driver's eyes flicked up to take Chuck in and then gave Sarah a significant look. "Your agent couldn't reach you so he called me. He needs to have a quick convo with you." He wiggled his phone. "Got him on the line right now."
"Can you tell him I'm busy right now?"
"Are ya? Looks like you're just standing in the middle of the entryway…"
Chuck cleared his throat. "You can take the call, Sarah. It's okay."
"I left my phone in another room for a reason," she said quietly. "Casey, tell him it can wait."
"Don't think it can…"
Chuck gently reached over to unclamp her grip from around his wrist and squeezed her fingers as she turned to look at him. "S'okay. Really. Just go talk to him. It sounds like he's been trying to reach you. I'm fine! I'll go…pop the bubbly." He tried to give her a silly look, wiggling his shoulders.
He thought he heard the driver give off a grumbled, "Jesus…" but he did his best to ignore it. He seemed like a grump and he was apparently going to be hard to win over. But Chuck respected the way the guy looked out for Sarah. So he would win him over. Or at least, he'd try. Really hard.
Sarah growled. "This is so ridiculous. I'm not on call right now. I'm not…I'm not on call," she said to the driver, pointing at him. Then she turned back to Chuck when the guy merely shrugged like he couldn't do anything about it. "I'm so sorry. It'll be just a second. You know where the fridge is…?"
"Yes. In the kitchen," he said, giving her an amused look. "Just through there."
She narrowed her eyes and smirked, nodding. "Okay. Thank you. I'll—Just a second, okay?"
"Take your time, I've got all night."
"Good," she breathed, squeezing his hand, before she practically stomped over to her driver and snatched the phone. He heard her snap, "You're no help at all, you know that?"
And as they both ducked out onto the porch, the door shutting behind them, he heard the driver's, "What'd I do?"
+ —
"What do you want, Tyler? If it's a job, you could've waited 'til tomorrow. If it's some project manager who needs a model, they can ALSO wait 'til tomorrow, I don't care WHO they are."
"How about the Director of the CIA?"
Sarah blanched. "Oh. Uh, sorry…sir." She gave Casey a dark look and he just shrugged, amused. Asshole. "I thought you were my agent because Major Casey told me you were."
"I don't have time for antics, Agent Walker. How did today go south so quickly?"
Frowning, she wandered further down the porch and leaned against one of the pillars. "I don't know, sir. Everything went according to plan, no one signaled anything was out of place, that they suspected me of anything. The transaction went smoothly. I was able to transfer everything to you, though. Didn't you receive it? I did it while I was in the room with them, as planned. No one was the wiser."
"We received it. That's not the problem."
"So what is the problem, then, if you don't mind my asking, Director Graham? Because you got the information you need to take this guy out, to end this criminal operation."
"You nearly didn't make it out of there alive, Sarah. Not to mention the clean-up we had to do was messy as all hell," he snapped. "A well-loved café in downtown Los Angeles has an SUV-sized hole in it, something we have to pay for while trying to make it seem like it isn't us. So that's fun. The SUV was impounded, and the guy who was driving it was arrested for possession of and firing of a high powered rifle. So we have to deal with all of that. You know how much I hate cops? I hate cops a whole lot."
"Yessir, I know you do. But can't they—"
"No, Sarah." He huffed in frustration. "Agent Walker," he corrected himself. She rolled her eyes a little. "They can't. This is a clusterfuck. They've got drawings of your face from witness accounts. Granted, it doesn't look at all like you. I've emailed you the sketches. But this cannot happen again. Are we clear?"
"We're clear," she said, clenching her jaw. "But I don't know how I'm supposed to help it. I did every last thing I was supposed to do. You got the evidence you need."
"Yes. And well done." There it was. Finally. Asshole. "But this is a whole mess now that we're going to have to clean up. We're cleaning up after you before we can even act on this."
"I understand. Won't happen again." But she wasn't making any promises. What was he gonna do, fire her?
"For now, you're benched."
Sarah stood up straighter. "I'm what?" She turned and looked at Casey who waited by the door, a guilty look on his face.
"I'm sorry, Agent. But we have to bench you. Until we can figure out how best to utilize your skill sets. I think we're going to have to keep you in diplomatic roles. No more undercover stuff, sending you into the belly of the beast like this. We'll have to use the veteran agents without so much exposure for jobs like this in the future."
"Veteran agents? What am I? I've been doing this since I was a kid, practically. When you basically kidnapped me and used my dad as—" She caught Casey's eye and he shook his head in warning. Sarah bit the rest of what she was going to say back. "I'm good at this, Director Graham."
"You are. That's not being disputed."
"Then what is this?"
"You are one of our biggest and most important assets. We need to send you to these…parties you'd normally go to, collect information, evidence, get inside circles no one else can get inside, create alliances, earn being in these rich assholes' confidence. That's going to be what happens from now on. But first, we need you to step back from the agency for a little while as we re-asses how we move forward."
"So you really are benching me…?"
"Yes."
"With all due respect, sir, this is fucked. What happened today couldn't be helped."
"Maybe not. But we're not risking you like that anymore."
"Risk is part of this. I'm in the CIA," she argued.
"Well…you're a different kind of agent, Sarah. You always have been. And we must adjust accordingly."
She sent Casey an angry look, and he crossed his arms, frowning deeply. This wasn't even fair. It wasn't right. It was fucked up. "And what about Casey? He has to adjust accordingly too? He shouldn't get cut off from his work just because he's my partner and I'm apparently a…priceless porcelain doll." These assholes who sat behind their desks in their insulated offices in Langley, giving orders and sitting at secret tables having secret conversations, sending their agents out to do their work for them. Making decisions like benching one of their best agents because she was "different", not "risking" her because she was a "special" kind of asset. It was bullshit.
"Well, Casey's going to be assigned elsewhere while you're benched."
Sarah spun and looked right in Casey's face. She saw abject guilt there as he squirmed in discomfort. "Elsewhere?" There was a long, uncomfortable pause. "You're reassigning my partner? Are you breaking us up?" She was truly dumbfounded.
"No," Langston Graham said adamantly. "I'm not breaking you up. But while you're benched, focusing on your other career, the…acting and posing and hobnobbing with the high society folks…" Just fucking patronizing. That's what he was. He was patronizing. "We can utilize Major Casey's skill sets. He's leaving tonight on a mission."
"To where?"
"That's…classified, Agent Walker. You know how this works."
All too well.
She gave Casey her best betrayed look and he squirmed, scratching behind his ear, turning to look anywhere but at her. "So that's it then? What, do I just wait for you to call me again then? No work until you have some flowery job where I have to gain the confidence of some…high roller in Monaco who would open his mouth to any pretty movie star who comes into his orbit?"
"You make it sound trite, Sarah. You know that isn't your only role in the agency."
"Oh, do I? After this phone call, I'm not so sure." She didn't want to have this conversation anymore so she rushed on. "You want to talk to the major again?"
Graham sighed. "Yes. Thank you, Sarah. We'll be in touch."
"It's Agent Walker," she said, before she handed Casey his phone again. "YOUR boss wants to talk to you."
She knew she wasn't handling this in the most mature way but she was so endlessly angry. She'd been reprimanded before, but she'd earned the reprimand those other times. She'd gotten cocky, she'd overreached, or she hadn't followed orders, going about a mission in the way she saw fit. The spy world had beaten that out of her by now. She'd stepped right through this whole mission. She'd done everything by the book. And still she got dumped onto the bench.
Casey nodded wordlessly as he listened to Graham. She stayed at his side. She had some things to say when he hung up.
"Understood, Director. Yep. Tell the General I'll see her soon. Thank you, sir. Yessir." He hung up and cleared his throat, sticking the phone in his pocket. "I just wanna say…for the record, Walker…I, uh, I went to bat for you. I told 'em you did everything to a tee."
Her anger at him eased. And she knew, in the end, it was just envy. He had the freedom of taking these missions, showing his face in places, disappearing and not being remembered. She would never be able to be that kind of spy. And she hated the confusing mix of emotions. She didn't want to be roped into this life, the spy life. But she knew she was also really damn good at it. She could be of some real help to the agency, to the American people, even if the effects of her work didn't always trickle down into the lives of everyone, even if no one knew about it.
But she would be shoved into a box. The supermodel slinking around parties, gathering information and feeding it to the CIA.
It made her feel useless.
She nodded slowly. "I know. I believe it. Thanks. Didn't do much good, I guess."
"It isn't about what you did. You didn't do anything wrong. They're just worried about your safety. You're important to the agency and its goals."
"Too important to be put in danger. It isn't exactly safe, prying the leader of a crime syndicate in Thailand for information at a fancy dress party. How's being a real agent, a real spy, any different?"
"I thought you needed a break." She gave him a flat look and he cleared his throat. "I mean, you said it, I didn't."
"Yeah, a vacation. I didn't ask to be benched and relegated into the pretty supermodel asset corner. I have way more to offer than that. And what's it mean for our partnership?" She shook her head, sighing. "Whatever. Nothing I can do about it now. They made their decision."
"I'll keep workin' on 'em. For what it's worth, General Beckman thinks this whole thing is bullshit. Why sideline one of the best agents we have at our disposal, who gets access to places the rest of us can't? It's stupid."
Sarah shook her head, not really knowing what else there was for her to say. And then she realized there was a man in her house right now, and by now he would've opened the champagne and had probably even poured it, ready to continue this date as though she hadn't just gotten a shitty phone call from the director of the CIA.
"So I just go in there now as if one of my careers didn't just get blown up. How do I even enjoy the rest of the night?"
He snorted. "I don't want any part of this conversation."
She rolled her eyes at him, realizing just how upset she was after that phone call. These developments meant she'd have more free time, for sure, being benched. She could focus on her real career. But…it felt so unfair. It felt disrespectful. Ungrateful. She felt like she was being taken for granted. And she supposed they had the means, considering she was practically blackmailed into this position in the first place.
"You're an actress, aren't ya?" He shrugged. "So act. Send him home, tell him you're sick."
He backed off of the porch to the staircase that led down to the garage entrance.
"Oh fuck off." She bit her lip then. "Casey wait." He did. "Don't die out there. I need a driver."
He snorted. "You need a partner who puts up with your shit."
He was gone.
What does this mean for Sarah? Stay tuned. Thanks for reading, please review.
SarahsSupplyCloset