Chuck Versus the Birthday

By Steampunk . Chuckster

Summary: Agent Bryce Larkin's puzzling attempt to look up an old college friend after he disappears with U.S. Intelligence's top secret Intersect sends Larkin's betrayed partner Agent Walker to Echo Park, Los Angeles, California as Chuck Bartowski's birthday approaches. Slight AU of the pilot.

A/N: No special Chuckish anniversaries this time. Just a new chapter. Boring, I know. Heheh.

Disclaimer: I don't own CHUCK or its characters. I'm not making money posting this.


She hadn't planned.

At all.

And that was the furthest thing from Agent Walker's modus operandi possible.

But she also knew there was a chance she needed to operate outside of her MO to get the information she needed from him, to really make sure that whatever it was Agent Larkin had planned, he failed.

She'd like him to fail hard, in fact.

So she would try something new.

This whole flying by the seat of her pants thing was leaving her unsettled though.

It already was hard to square with how easily this man seemed to knock her on her ass.

To the point where he'd caused her to emit the most ridiculous, girlish giggle from deep in her chest.

She'd never heard herself make a sound like that ever in her life and she tried not to be so gobsmacked by it.

Was it the silly voice he'd used after teasing her about wanting to be called Commodore? Or had he flirted in just the right way, that grumbling sound and the way he bit his lip, that she'd been flush with a weirdly adrenalized shyness, and perhaps even pleasure?

Jesus Christ, she was losing her grip here.

For all she knew, he was playing her like a fiddle.

It just didn't seem like he was anything close to a spy, an informant, even a courier. There was no guile, no practiced charm. It all felt so real. It was keeping her on her toes.

She hated it and she fucking loved it.

Chuck Bartowski wasn't just real, he was making her feel real, dormant pieces inside of her waking up. Maybe that was where that ridiculous giggle had come from. And her inability to keep from blatantly flirting.

But now she had decided to pull him away from the large group, his family and friends, to get him alone, get his guard down so he'd talk more…and she no idea where she was driving. She didn't live in LA. She knew nothing about it, save what she'd seen in a handful of movies and TV shows. She'd come here for missions here and there, but she'd grown up near San Diego when she wasn't off galavanting with her con artist dad. Though she realized now as an adult something she hadn't known as a kid: she was simply his pawn for the con.

She shook that off. "You know I'm…kind of new to town. I'm just sorta sitting here driving us off to…somewhere. I don't know where." She shrugged sheepishly. "Sorry. Maybe you have an idea? It's your birthday after all."

"Oh! Shoot, why didn't you say so? Okay, okay, lemme think…" He seemed to be getting more and more excited the more she let him think. "Churros."

She blinked. "What?"

"I know a little stand, just off the side of a road near here. Morgan and I load up on churros from this place all the time. They're out there 'til one, two in the morning. I'm sure they make bank off of the wasted college students."

Sarah laughed. "And the not-wasted birthday boy looking for something sweet?"

"Exactly! Turn left at the next light. It'll be a few miles on that street, and the stand will be to the right."

"Got it."

True to his word, it only took about five minutes for them to find the churro stand: Chicho's Churros.

She had to hip check Chuck out of the way to keep him from paying for their churros, making him and the Chicho's employee laugh. "It's your birthday. You aren't paying." She handed over the money. "Keep the change. Can you believe this guy trying to pay on his birthday?" she shot over her shoulder towards the other woman as she carried their churros away.

They settled on a bench off to the side and she laughed at the way he hopped onto it with a cute grunt. "Aw man, just wait 'til you take a bite. This is better than Disney churros."

She shook her head.

"What?" He leaned forward. "You've never had a churro from Disneyland?" She pressed her lips together and shrugged. She'd never been to Disneyland. Her dad always hated that place, said it was impossible to get at people there with how many cameras and eyes there were all over. "Well, I'd say you're missing out, but you're about to eat an even better churro so eh you're fine."

Sarah giggled. But before she could take her bite, he gently wrapped his fingers around her wrist.

"Wait, let's—let's cheers to something. I dunno why, it just feels important."

"It…feels important to cheers with…churros…?"

"Yes."

Shrugging, she went with it. "Okay, uh… Happy Birthday to a big ol' techy brainiac who's fixing my phone with magical gel packets."

She loved the way his smile almost seemed to take up his face in stages. It made her heart thud wildly behind her ribs.

"That's a pretty good one. I'll cheers to that." And he adorably knocked their churros together, making her emit that same weird giggle again.

And when she took a bite, it was like she'd left Earth altogether. So hot and spongy inside, crispy and fried on the outside, the oil merging with the exceptionally flavorful sugar. "Oh God, this is better than sex," she moaned around the churro still practically melting in her mouth. She folded herself back onto the table she leaned against.

Chuck cracked up, so pleased he stomped his feet a bit in the dirt. "Oh my God, you really are set on making my whole week, aren't you? Freaking amazing." She beamed at him, taking another bite. Dear God, it was so good. She wasn't exaggerating. It might actually be better than sex. "And for the record, as freaking incredible as these churros are, I'm still super fond of sex."

She was surprised he'd been bold enough to say that. After all the self-deprecation, the shyness, the dressing himself down. Seemed he'd grown a little into this. She was glad, maybe she'd get more out of him now.

"Wow, well okay. You're right. Sex is still better." She wrinkled her nose. "Depending on the person."

"True. Very true."

She hated that Bryce practically freaking swung back into her brain like Tarzan on a God damn vine in that moment. She got it. She understood why. She was joking about sex with someone and Agent Larkin had been the last time she'd had sex. But shit, why now?

She wouldn't be surprised in the least to discover he'd been a womanizer in college, had young women hovering in his wake, swooning, gasping… He was hot. He was smart. She knew his family'd had money when he was growing up too. She didn't learn about him from talking to him—neither of them told the other about anything—as much as Graham letting her have a very redacted dossier of him when they were first thrown together as partners six months ago. He probably drove a fancy car around Stanford's campus, that hair of his blowing in the wind, flashing that movie star smile.

It was all fake.

Every bit of it.

Because he'd apparently swiped Chuck's girlfriend from him. And they'd been friends. That was an extra bit of heinous behavior, that he'd done it to someone who'd likely trusted him. Betraying Sarah, his partner in the CIA…well, on some level she got it. Besides finding distraction in one another's arms between missions, there wasn't any sort of personal sharing there. He didn't know anything about her, she didn't know anything about him.

But Chuck had been his friend and he'd slept with his girlfriend. As she glanced over at Chuck, all too focused on nomming his churro—literally making nom nom nom sounds as he ate like a Muppet or something—she felt a sudden protective urge come over her. She wanted to punch Bryce Larkin in the dick, and maybe those idiots at the party had the right idea after all.

Needless to say, the idea of Bryce trying to form any sort of allegiance with this guy felt incredibly unrealistic at this point. Maybe Bryce looked him up because he thought he'd be a good place to hide it, an old friend few people would know about…until he remembered the whole thing where he'd screwed his girlfriend in college while they were still together, likely breaking this poor guy's heart and spirit. If Bryce was smart, he'd rethink that decision.

She couldn't imagine Chuck wanting to help him after all that.

Not only did this man seem too sweet and unassuming to be in cahoots with Agent Larkin, but there was likely a whole lot of animosity between them, especially from Chuck's direction; she didn't blame him one bit either.

"Hey, how 'bout you, Sarah?" She nearly jumped at the sound of his voice, so close to her ear. She played it off as a shiver and turned to look at him. He'd leaned a bit closer as he ate. She liked it. "I'm just realizing I've spewed all this bullshit about me, my issues, blah blah blah…as always," he said with a sweet chuckle. "And I never asked you anything about…you."

She sighed. She'd gotten herself into a bit of a pickle. Of course he wanted to know more about her. She'd asked enough questions about him. "Um, I'm a person. I'm…alive."

He snorted. "That's a relief. Was not really expecting to spend my birthday with a ghost. A really beautiful ghost, but a ghost nonetheless."

Sarah giggled. "Sorry. I'm bad at…talking about myself. And…thanks. For that line about the beautiful…thing."

"It wasn't a line. I meant it," he said gently.

She knew she was blushing again. "I know. I didn't mean to say…line, like you're not being respectful. I mean, like you didn't…mean it."

What in the fuck was happening to her mouth? It was like it had been unhinged from her brain. He was sitting so close, and they'd both polished off their churros so quickly that their hands were free and she wanted to reach over and wrap her fingers up in his so badly it literally hurt.

"It's okay. I'm not offended. I just wanted to make sure you know I'm not…trying out any lines or anything. You are beautiful. Gorgeous. Like…objectively." She bit her lip, shifting a little to face him better. He stared straight forward, his eyes a little narrowed. "I stood up after getting your phone out of the fountain, saw you, and immediately almost dropped it again. Which would be super slick."

Sarah giggled shyly. "Well I'm glad you didn't. Water might be something it can be saved from, crashing into a zillion pieces on the ground? Not so much."

"Nope." He chuckled, shaking his head. "I can do just about anything with a phone, tablet, computer, et cetera…but even I can't do…everything."

"Gardenias," she blurted out then. He gave her a wide-eyed look. "Sorry. That's-That's just my favorite flower. You wanted to know things about me. That's something." And it was something real. "I like how they look, a little more…bunched up than a rose. And the scent is…so nice."

"What color?" he asked softly, his smile making her feel so comfortable and…almost…safe.

"All of them."

"No, but what's your favorite color? If you had to pick."

Sarah licked her lips thoughtfully. "Oh. Um…" She rubbed her hands up and down her thighs. "Well? I think there's…white, which is the most common. Pink, red… Um, the only kind I haven't seen wild are the yellow ones. Sometimes they have a little purple on the edges. And maybe because that's the only kind I haven't seen, it's my favorite."

She'd never spoken to anyone like this before. At least, not that she could remember. And he was listening intently, that smile on his face. He wasn't making fun of her, he wasn't patronizing her. He was simply listening with a warmth that made her feel dizzy.

"Well, then. We're going to have to figure out where to find yellow gardenias with a bit of purple on the edges. I'm gonna find 'em, damn it."

Sarah giggled, tucking some of her hair behind her ear. "You make me believe that."

"Believe it. I'm gonna find 'em, watch that I don't."

And as she turned to look at him, she felt herself leaning ever closer, their shoulders pressed together now. His hand reached across and slid over hers, warm and gentle.

He wasn't a threat. He simply couldn't be. Life had been endlessly cruel to Sarah Walker, and the list of names she'd gone by since even before the CIA picked her up from where she'd fallen face-first into the dirt, trying to escape the law—something her father hadn't done. Life had been relentlessly cruel… but it couldn't be this cruel, could it? For her to be placed in this man's path, to feel the things that were happening inside of her, the blooming in her chest, the way she was purposely opening herself up to him… only for him to be a traitor to his country, in league with Agent Bryce Larkin, plotting to steal the Intersect and sell it to an adversarial country or some arms dealer on the black market.

That couldn't be.

She refused to believe it.

He wasn't dangerous.

And then he was. Because she turned her hand over in his and was clinging to him in a way she'd never clung before. There was a safety here she couldn't and didn't understand. And it was him. He felt safe.

And he was looking at her as if he'd do whatever he could to give her the world. This guy who worked at the Buy More for sixteen dollars an hour and played video games and went to the movie theater only if the movie playing had space aliens, or whatever it was he'd said.

She didn't know. She didn't care.

Because he was leaning closer, and she was leaning closer.

Sarah's eyes dropped to his lips, inviting him in.

Was she seriously about to do this? Was she nuts? Was she losing her grasp on reality? Men didn't do this to her. She wasn't this powerless with anyone.

She was kissing him.

She wanted to.

Everything in her was reaching for it.

"Stop! No! Please!"

Sarah's eyes snapped open from where they'd become heavy-lidded. Chuck was already looking away towards the commotion.

She followed his gaze.

Three teenagers had stolen the fedora off of a shorter, seemingly younger teenager and were playing frisbee with it over his head.

"No, please! It's my abuelo's! Please!"

One of the little assholes stuck his foot out and hooked the other kid's legs, causing him to fall roughly into the dirt with a grunt. They all laughed derisively at him.

Things immediately flashed through Sarah's mind as ire made itself known in her throat. Mocking insults about her rental violin, getting pushed into a bathroom stall and getting blocked by other girls pulling on the door to keep her in, then locking her in the bathroom itself, but not before turning off the lights. Having her backpack full of books from her advanced classes lifted by bullies and dropped so that the weight sent her crashing to the ground in the hallway. Having her frizzy hair yanked on. Braces made fun of.

But before she could get up and whoop a few asses, Chuck was gone, having left the bench and her…and frankly, their purely romantic moment…behind. She watched him make a beeline for the teenagers behind the churro stand.

"Let me have it back! I'll pay you!"

"He says he'll pay us oooooooo how much you have? They pay Daddy real good for you to be living in that trailer, huh?"

The teen that spoke caught the spinning fedora and immediately dropped it into the dirt with a mocking "oooops", causing the others to laugh again.

They stopped laughing soon thereafter.

Because they caught sight of Chuck marching up to them, all six feet and four inches of him. She couldn't see his face, even as she followed behind to back him up. But she imagined it looked frightening enough that they all froze at the sight of it.

"You," he said to the teen who'd made the snark about the trailer. "Pick that hat up. Now."

The kid held up his hands. "Didn't mean nothin'. Just playing."

"Yeah. He's our pal."

"Bullshit. I told you to pick up the hat. Do it. Now," Chuck said, his voice even.

The teenager hurriedly scooped the hat off of the ground.

"Is there dirt on it from where you threw it?"

"I-I dunno. I wasn't trying—"

"Is there dirt on it?"

"Yeah. A little."

"Get it off."

"H-How?"

"You got a shirt. Use it."

He looked down at his polo he wore. It was likely expensive. He looked like a little rich brat. Maybe J Crew or something. But he used the polo to dust off the hat, leaving dirt smears along the mint green bottom hem.

"Now give it back."

He gave it back to the other teen he'd been terrorizing.

"You wanna do something late at night 'cause you're bored, read a book. Play a video game. Waste your parents' money on fast cars or something like that, but do not take out your Daddy issues on other people. Not on this guy. Not on anybody." His hard gaze flicked around between the three bullies. "Understood?"

"Y-Yeah. Yeah, we got it."

They just stood there, frozen.

"Well? We're done. Scram."

They staggered away, bumping into each other, diving into a convertible, peeling away.

Chuck turned to the teenager left behind then and pointed at the hat. "That's a pretty cool hat."

He wiped at his tear-streaked face. "Yeah. My-My abuelo's. He gave it to me before he died. When I was…" He held his hand at knee length.

"I'm sorry," Chuck said sincerely.

Sarah watched then as he reached over, gently took the hat from the kid's hands, and put it back onto his dark messy hair. Then he made a thoughtful face, pinching his chin, and he reached over again to tilt it just so.

"Tiiiight."

The kid beamed at the compliment.

And Sarah turned to goo.

"Listen, shitheads like that don't end up winning. Not in the end. It's guys like you that end up winning."

"Eh, I'm short. I'm gonna be short forever. That's what it is. If I was tall like you, I'd make them shit themselves the way you just did."

Chuck and Sarah both laughed.

He turned to look at her in surprise, apparently not knowing she'd followed after him. And he smiled at her.

Then he turned back and stuck his hands in his Buy More jacket's pockets. "How old are ya?"

"Thirteen."

"A-ha. Give yourself a bit of time, my dude. You'll shoot up. Trust." He gestured at the kid's feet. "Feet like this? You're gonna shoot up." The thirteen year old beamed again. "And in the meantime, you're only as short as you act. They wanna try to push you around because they think you're defenseless. But you're not. Not with that hat you're not." He whistled and shook his head.

The kid tilted his hat even more and nodded. "Thanks, Mister."

A few minutes later, he skipped off with the hat firmly tilted on his head, a churro Chuck bought clutched in his fist, promising to go right home.

And Sarah stood next to Chuck, her arms wrapped around herself, completely unmoored.

Agent Sarah Walker had never been so sure about anything else ever in her life. She wasn't just dubious about Chuck's involvement in the Intersect scheme, there was no way this man would have anything to do with that. He was pure light. And she was sure he had flaws, probably plenty of them, but with a heart like his, not a single one of those flaws would include anything that could possibly get people killed the way Bryce's stunt might.

Not only did she know he was innocent in all of this, she was intrigued by him.

God damn it, let her at least be honest with herself if no one else.

She was interested in him. Attracted to him.

She wanted him.

This was a potential problem, to say the least.

A big, giant potential problem.

Chuck turned back to her. "Man, fuck bullies. Hitting my growth spurt my sophomore year was…" He gave a double thumbs up. "So good. The bullies suddenly decided maybe fucking with somebody who was over six feet wasn't a great idea. And it overflowed onto Morgan too 'cause we went everywhere together. Morgan also loved my growth spurt."

Sarah laughed, relieved at how easily he'd just softened the tension.

She laughed to keep from literally leaping at him and mauling his face.

"That was very sweet, Chuck."

"Those kids were rich brat assholes. Probably learned it from their trash dads who enroll them in football to live vicariously through them but then otherwise completely ignore them."

"Ah. Yep." She reached out to grab his forearm in both of her hands, squeezing. "Let's go to…I dunno…" She'd learned all she needed to learn to trust in him. And now she wanted to do something a little crazy.

"It's your birthday, let's find someplace with music and let's dance."

His eyes went wide. "Oh. O…kay. Uh. Sure, if you…want."

But Agent Walker felt a buzzing in her that wouldn't relent, and the buzzing meant she'd completely missed the abject fear in the man's face as she dragged him back to her car.

}o{

Chuck felt a tug on his jacket.

"Hey. What's the look?"

He turned to glance at the stunning blonde as she smirked up at him, genuine curiosity on her face along with a hint of worry. "No! No look. I have no look…on my face. Just waiting. Waiting to get in there and…" He moved his fist back and forth, twisting his hips a little. "Boogie."

Sarah furrowed her brow, giggling lightly. "Uh huh. Seriously. I saw something. You can tell me, Chuck, it's okay." She looked ahead at the five or six people in line in front of them. "Did I pick a shitty venue? It looked interesting when we drove past. Do you know this place and it sucks? Please tell me if it sucks."

"No, it doesn't. It doesn't suck. I've been here before. It's cool. Live music." She just stared at him expectantly, her bottom lip trapped between her teeth. God, her eyes really were so blue even in the weird lighting from the club's sign above the door. "Gah, I…I'm not much of a dancer. You said you wanted to dance but you're gonna have to maybe find another dance partner in there 'cause it's…not my thing. I'm sorry. I should've said it earlier, I just didn't wanna upset you."

She made a sweet little pout with her mouth, her eyebrows going up. "You're adorable, you know that? I'm not upset. Especially because when we get in there, you're dancing."

He pressed his lips together and made a doubtful sound. "Probably not."

"You are."

"I will embarrass you so bad, you have no idea. Really, Sarah, I—"

"Okay, well…I can't force you. I won't." She slipped her hand into his and squeezed, and then she faced forward. "We'll just get some drinks and yell at each other over the music to try to have a conversation. It'll be fun."

Chuck cracked up, charmed out of his mind. Both by the fact that she genuinely didn't intend to force him, and by how supremely funny and cute she was.

And it was effective too, because when they got into the club a few minutes later, he tugged her towards the dance floor. She stopped him, giving him a questioning look. "C'mon. Don't you wanna dance?"

Sarah looked dubious. "I meant it about not wanting to force you. It's your birthday, I'm not making you do something you don't wanna do."

"Maybe you made me wanna do it," he said, pulling her in close with the hand he had wrapped around hers.

There was a flash in her eyes. And he felt something delicious pass between them. "Well, in that case…"

And he let himself get pulled out onto the dance floor.

As the drum beat cascaded through the club, the guitar riffs, and singer's voice, entering in his chest, Chuck allowed himself to bounce on his heels. He still knew he was not good at this, but it didn't matter. None of it mattered when he saw how much fun Sarah was having.

She grinned at him like the world started and ended with him, moving her arms up to prop them on his shoulders and stepping in close, grinding her front against his.

He put his hands out to the side, not sure how to dance with her, and she took his hands out of the air and put them resolutely against her hips. Okay. He was more than good with this. And oh, she was graceful and super hot, the way she moved her hips. He could feel the muscles under his fingers, the sensual gyrating.

And she refused to break eye contact as she slid down his lanky form, looking up at him through her eyelashes.

This was truly the best birthday he'd ever had in his life.

Easily.

The best.

Ever.

She climbed back up his body, putting his hands back on her hips, and then she put a little space between them, dancing to the music, bouncing the way he had when they first headed onto the floor.

Chuck laughed, blindsided by the joy assailing his heart. And he let go of her hips, raising his hands over his head, shaking them back and forth as he jumped up and down, thrashing his head around.

He tilted his head back, let out a, "WOOOOOOOOOOOOO!", and grinned at Sarah again as she cracked up, rocking forward.

Chuck had no concept of time as the songs rocked through the venue. And when the band left the stage after a few songs, a DJ took their place, filling the club with dance music. He didn't care. Because she stepped in so close he could smell her perfume, and she seemed perfectly fine with the way he boldly wound his arms around her back, holding her in his embrace, leaning his forehead against her temple.

He took a deep breath, the house beat intoxicating, Sarah intoxicating, and they just held on, moving together, not caring about anything else, anyone else around them.

Her hands were on him, strong and confident, her face pressed into his jaw, his hair, his throat, his shoulder. He was swept up in her, in her touch, the way her breath felt against his skin, her soft hair under his fingertips, the way her apparent muscles shifted and flexed under his palms.

Chuck was prepared to stay like this forever. Touching, feeling, being touched, the music thumping inside of them.

But then he felt her give him a bit of a shake and he pulled back from her, blinking down at her, almost as if a spell had been broken. Her hand was on his cheek, amusement laced with a bit of concern in her face.

She said something but the music was so loud.

"WHAT?!" He pointed to his ears, letting her know he couldn't hear.

Sarah merely shook her head, then carefully guided him off of the dance floor. He didn't know why until they cleared the sweaty gyrating throng of dancers, making their way towards the bar. "YOU'RE PANTING!" she exclaimed near his ear. He'd heard her this time thanks to the sheer volume she'd used. "YOU NEED WATER!"

"OH! THANKS!"

She was right. Suddenly he was a little bit dizzy, probably from dancing, sweating, not hydrating enough during the party, he was so busy making sure everyone else hydrated. Somehow, she pushed her way in against the bar, one hand reached back to curl her fingers around his, a sweet and gentle way of keeping tabs on him he thought. The other hand raised for the bartender, waving him over. She yelled something he didn't hear, the bartender rushed ice and water into a cup, and he passed it to her quickly.

Sarah turned to him and forced the cup against his hands. "DRINK!" she barked.

At least he thought she'd said that.

Either way he got the message loud and clear and he began to guzzle it. He felt the steady, safe pressure of her hands on his bicep and his waist, and he wanted to fold himself up against her again. Didn't have to be on the dance floor, it could be anywhere at all. As long as she was pressed against him again.

"WANNA GET OUTTA HERE?! FIND SOMEPLACE LESS LOUD?!"

"HUH?!" He'd finished the water, narrowing his eyes at her. He thought he knew what she said but he wasn't sure and didn't want to get it wrong.

"OUT! OF HERE! GO! WANT TO?!" He blinked, still confused, and she huffed, rolling her eyes, before she moved onto her tiptoes, her lips brushing his ear and making him shiver in the best way. "READY TO GO?!"

She lowered herself to her heels again and he nodded.

"YES! DEFINITELY! WHERE'S THE SNOW?!"

Sarah rolled her eyes and shook her head, taking the cup from him, setting it on the bar behind her, and dragging him away from the music and towards the exit.

They climbed up the stairs and emerged into the beautiful, crisp night. Chuck yanked on his ears a bit and opened and closed his jaw to try to pop them.

"I asked if you were ready to go…" she said with a giggle.

"Oh. Definitely heard something about snow."

She laughed. "Oh God."

"Not really the place for stimulating conversation, is it?"

"Not really, no." She reached out to tug on his forearm playfully. "So how was the dancing?"

Chuck grinned his best grin at her. "Ah-mazing. It was fun."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah."

He loved how pleased she looked, the way she pursed her lips and twisted them to the side. "I don't think I stepped on you either, so that's a plus."

She giggled. "Not only did you not step on me, you're a pretty good dancer. Think you're selling yourself short. Again," she added with a flat look.

"In my defense, I don't really…dance at all. So I didn't know I could do it. Like, me and Morgan aren't going out to the clubs, we're going to the arcade. Dance Dance Revolution? That's different. I will whoop anybody's ass at that."

Sarah cracked up. "Okay, that's fair. You're not in trouble anymore. You didn't know you had moves, and now you do."

The look she sent him had some hard flirtation in it and he was struggling to put one foot in front of the other so it was a good thing she found a close parking spot and they were nearing her car.

As they climbed into the car, she buckled up and put her hands on the wheel. "Well? Where to?"

Chuck peeked at his watch. "This is going to sound crazy because it's almost two in the morning, but…there is this beach I know of. I know it's late," he rushed out when she faced forward and arched an eyebrow. "So we don't have to. Especially because it isn't even my birthday anymore technically. I'm twenty-six, it's over."

She giggled. "Twenty-six and done, huh?"

"Yeah. Just…totally wasted the best years of my life, no big deal," he joked, making her groan out a laugh. She reached over to smack him gently with the back of her hand.

"What's this beach? Where is it? I've got time."

"Do you have thirty-to-forty-minutes-one-way kind of time?"

She thought for a moment, and then she smirked at him. "I'm game. You sure you're up for it, old man?"

"Ooouuuchhhhh," he drawled, cracking up, and she pulled away from the curb, headed for the freeway.

}o{

Sarah wiped a tear from under her eye, still trying to recuperate from her laughter. He was making up stories about the interesting vehicles they saw on the freeway. He'd just given her a good one.

"A ferret? Seriously?"

"A ferret is definitely driving that van. There's no other explanation."

"You give me these detailed, drawn-out fictions and then jump to a ferret. Stuff about kings escaping from their kingdom and trying to blend in amongst the peasants, a vampire, annnnnd what else?"

"You forgot the man who climbs specifically palm trees just for the challenge."

"Oh right," she giggled. "But only on weekends."

"Well, that's when more people are out and about and will see him do it," he explained, shrugging. "He wants to go viral, see."

Shaking her head, she reached over and squeezed his shoulder. "You're such a weirdo. Genuinely." She said it with pointed fondness so that he didn't think she didn't like it. Because she did.

Which was weird in and of itself.

"Can I say something a little weird, actually?" she heard herself say in the dark of her car's interior, knowing this urge to be candid with him was a problem. A problem she didn't really want to solve at the moment.

"Oh, to me? No. No weirdness." She sent him an amused glare and he giggled cutely. "Of course you can. Always."

That word got stuck in her chest in the worst way.

Always.

She knew he didn't mean for it to have that weight and it still did.

"I…am finding that I sort of like driving around LA at night. That's weird, right? Because people always talk about how much it sucks to drive in LA and I… Well, I haven't been here that long, but every time I get in my car and drive around the city at night, it's kind of peaceful?" She tilted her head.

He just watched her for a long while, almost long enough to make her squirm. And then: "Yeah, that's pretty weird."

Sarah blurted out a laugh, smacking his shoulder sincerely.

"Ah! Ow! Geeeeez! I thought you wanted honesty!" He gave her a toothy grin, his tongue poking out and his nose wrinkling again, and there was that stupid fluttering in her chest. "I'm teasing you."

"Oh now you're teasing me, huh? Payback?"

"You're right, maybe. It is kinda fun." They chuckled together and he shook his head. "Honestly, I get your feelings on driving in LA at night. First of all, typically less people. But I dunno, there's something calming about the intricate intertwining and crossing over and the…well, utter mess of the freeways. There's almost a rhythm to the madness. I do kinda wish we had better public transportation though. And the history there is pretty fucked up."

"Oh yeah?"

"Mhm. Car companies came in and gutted the trolleys, trains, all of the stuff that made traveling without a car a lot easier here. And all of these freeways popped up and everyone bought cars because they had to and the car companies won the day. Bastards." He shrugged. "The nineteen fifties sucked ass."

"Styrofoam."

"Huh?"

She snorted, rolling her eyes at herself. "Sorry. Context. They invented styrofoam in the 'fifties, too. Because people were too lazy to wash shit, so you eat on it and throw it out. There. Done. Trash."

"Heeeey, climate warriors!" He held up his hand between them and she laughed, slapping it in a high five. "Man, I took the bus and the trains growing up before Ellie got her license and could afford an old used piece o' junk Camry a neighbor was selling for tacks practically. It was rough. To get anywhere, I had to switch buses a lot. Or I'd have to tag team a train and a bus, or two buses. So I had to plan ahead like…over an hour sometimes."

Sarah chewed on the inside of her cheek. Was he filling some of the holes that existed in the dossier the CIA analysts put together? "Your parents didn't have a car…?"

"When I was really little, yeah. Uh, things were different. See, my mom left when I was nine. And Ellie was thirteen. And my dad took it really hard and spent all his time locked in his office or at work or off in other towns on conferences. He'd take these work trips…they got longer and longer and then he just stopped coming home altogether. So it was just me and Ellie by the time I was sixteen, seventeen."

"Holy shit," she breathed. "Chuck, I didn't know. I'm so sorry. I can't imagine…"

"We did okay. Learned how to forge signatures pretty good though." He winked, chuckling. But she could see he was still hurt. And who wouldn't be? She had her own issues with both of her parents, but she couldn't imagine thinking everything was normal and the next day, finding out your mom wasn't coming home, your dad disappearing for days and weeks at a time and then just cutting off his kids without warning.

"I guess so," she said quietly. "I guess you'd figure out how to use public transportation in a situation like that, huh? I'm sorry…"

She imagined them, children, a literal child and a pre-teen, sitting side by side on a bus, staring at the passing road signs, waiting for their stop, Ellie holding her little brother's hand and leading him off of the bus, explaining it to him. It made her want to cry. Her chest ached.

Who could do something like that to any kids, let alone their own?

"Yep. Ellie and I rode together a lot in the beginning so that she knew she could trust me to handle it on my own. Even though I didn't hit my growth spurt 'til high school, I wasn't exactly a shrimp. I handled buses and trains on my own and nobody bothered me."

Sarah reached out and curled her fingers around his arm, squeezing comfortingly.

"Thank you, but I'm okay. I had Ellie."

But then who had Ellie, she wondered?

God, she wasn't sure she even knew how to put herself in the other woman's shoes.

Being a pre-teen, going through everything Sarah remembered going through at that age, and having to raise her brother, protect him, all on her own from that point forward.

Being both parents and the big sister all at once. Sarah found she wanted to go back to that courtyard and hug the woman hard. She wasn't alone anymore, and technically she hadn't been alone then. She'd had Chuck, even if he was a kid. She imagined a little brainy curly haired kid version of the man sitting in her passenger seat and she smiled.

"I'm glad you had each other. That makes things easier. But still…you shouldn't have had to…"

"We're surprisingly well-adjusted, I know." He huffed then, cutting his hand through the air dismissively. "Anyway, geez. Not trying to bring down the mood in the room. Erm…car…?"

She snorted. "No, please. Don't apologize. You shouldn't feel like you have to apologize for talking about something like this. I mean, isn't that the…healthy thing to do? Instead of shoving all the shit into a deep dark pit inside you and letting it…rot there?" Knowing that was exactly what she did, and knowing she had no intention of changing it anytime soon, she rushed on, "Do people make you feel like you have to apologize for talking about your parents leaving? If so, you should ditch them. They sound like assholes."

Chuck laughed, shifting in the seat so that he was leaning one shoulder against the door, the other against the seat, able to look at her better. At least she assumed that was why because it didn't look all that comfortable.

"She was a big giant asshole. As a matter of fact."

"Oh." She pursed her lips. "An ex, huh?" He made a face. "Not the ex. The college one. Joanna?"

He laughed and she grinned with her tongue between her teeth. "God, I like you." There went that uncomfortable hammering in her chest again. She was glad it was dark in the car, just in case that stupid blush showed up on her face again. "Her name was Jill. You're being mean to the goanna from the movie. She wasn't bad. She was just tryin' to eat. Her owner was bad. And he trained her to be a butthole."

Sarah found herself giggling at him. "I don't even know what you're talking about, but the fact that you're cutting this villain snake lizard thing some slack is kind of cute."

"I tend to give people a few chances. Sometimes even people who probably…don't deserve it."

"Oh yeah?" She watched him for a little longer than was maybe safe while driving merging onto the 1 freeway. He shut his eyes, trusting her apparently, and she decided not to let him down, looking back at the road in front of her. "There a reason for that? I mean, people don't…disappoint you?"

"They do," he said immediately. "My mom let me down. My dad. Jill. People before and after Jill. I've been let down a lot." He shrugged, pushing himself to sit up and face front again, his eyes open. "But I'd rather give someone the benefit of the doubt, give 'em a chance, and be wrong in that direction, than brush 'em off as a lost cause and maybe…I dunno, maybe they just needed somebody to believe in 'em. One person. What if I'm that one person? I'd rather be wrong and get dirt on my face, I guess. I can always wash it off, get a good night's sleep…and we go again in the morning."

Sarah gave him a slow smile, then turned to face forward again, aware she might let him see way too move if she allowed him to study the look on her face for too long. This guy was observant, and he paid attention. He watched, listened. He cared enough to watch and listen. It was scary.

"You know what, Chuck?"

"Hm."

"That's lovely." She shook her head, swallowing the lump in her throat. "I'm afraid I can't be that way. But it's beautiful that you are that way. That you're willing to have dirt kicked in your face if it means giving someone another chance, that maybe you'll be right about them."

"Even if it's just the one time. I'll take it."

"Ever been right?"

"Sure." He shrugged. "As many times as I've been wrong."

This man was like sunlight in person form. He was like…driving through a dark and seemingly endless tunnel, only to emerge into an eighty degree summer's day, the sun beaming down, touching your face, its warmth seeping into your skin.

He went rigid then, his eyes on something straight ahead in the road. Sarah felt all of the comfortable, soft parts of her immediately go hard, alert. She spun to look.

A tall van was driving down the 1 on the opposite side of the road, its lights blaring.

"What is it?!"

"It's a Large Mart Moron Mobile. Those absolute fucking fucks!" he snapped.

Sarah's eyes went wide. This was quite the one-eighty from the heart-meltingly sweet sentiments he'd just been expressing. "What…is that exactly?"

"Our competitors. Bastards." He turned and sent it his middle finger through her back window, making her laugh.

"Maybe don't piss them off and make them try to run me off this very tiny little road on the side of a cliff?"

"Oh, sure, side with them. Everyone always does."

Sarah cracked up. "Jesus!"

He was chuckling too, reaching out to squeeze her arm, probably so she knew he was being extra dramatic for show, probably to make her laugh. She'd noticed throughout the night that he glowed extra bright whenever something he did or said made her laugh. It was insanely sweet.

"Anyway, they wouldn't dare try to run you off the road. They're cowards. Pestilence. Scum. Of. The. Earth!" he announced dramatically, making a fist and raising it slowly, throwing his head back.

"So…competitors of the Buy More?" she asked, still giggling at his antics.

"Our nemesis. And here's the thing that really gets my goat, okay? Like, it not only gets my goat, it takes it out on a really romantic date with candles and a nice leafy salad or somethin'." Sarah cracked up and he beamed again. "I'm sorry, I need to just vent for a second."

"Oh, please do. I'm enjoying this thoroughly."

"I know. I know, I'm being super dramatic, but this is a thing for us at the Buy More. We're like the Black Sheep reject child of the consumer electronics retailer family. And they're the valedictorian All-American athlete child headed for the stars. We hate them."

"The Large Mart is the star? It's called the Large Mart. I hate them already."

Chuck let out an evil cackle. "Thank you! Such a stupid name! The Buy More. Right? We're saying, come in 'ere and buy more stuff! Nice. Persuasive. It lures you in. What the fuck is Large Mart? Like, it's a big building. Congrats. Assholes." She snorted. "And what makes me really pissed is that they get these big ol' vans like that for their shitty I.T. crew. Like, an appropriately sized vehicle for people who drive around needing to carry big ol' heavy things? Like old computer monitors and stuff. Instead, the Nerd Herd gets to drive around a tiny bullet-shaped car that looks like a Tylenol capsule." He grumbled and shook his head, gritting his teeth. "So unfair."

She giggled. "So you have some feelings about all of this, I see."

"I do. How could you tell?"

"Well, next time I see one, I'll spit in its direction."

"See, I like you."

They shared amused smiles and turned back to the road ahead.

}o{

"Here."

She followed where he pointed twenty minutes later, pulling into a small lot, and beyond it there was a long swath of sand that led to the dark ocean beyond. "Oh my God. It's beautiful," she breathed, stopping in a parking spot that faced the Pacific.

"I was hoping you'd like it."

They sat in the car and she felt a bit of tension between them. Permeating the air. Warm, electric, and still…slightly awkward.

"Want to, uh, get out and go near the water?"

She looked at him, giving him a closed-mouth smile and shrugging one shoulder. "Yes! Yeah, let's go. Definitely."

"Okay."

And still they sat there. Eyes meeting. He finally cleared his throat and pulled away, pointing outside. "I'm gonna…. Yeah."

"Right. Me too."

They got out of the car and she felt ridiculous for how awkward this suddenly was.

She leaned on the hood of the car to peel her boots off, tucking her socks inside as he tugged his sneakers and socks off as well, leaving them next to the car and leading her out to the sand.

It squished under her feet, cool and damp between her toes, even this far up from the water. She'd almost forgotten how good it felt to walk on the sand barefoot, hearing the comforting roar of the waves, feeling the dampness in the air.

"Ah-OW! Shell!"

He nearly tipped over and she barked out a laugh, reaching out to grab his arm. "You okay?"

"Yeah, it just surprised me. My feet are super sensitive." She sent him a bit of a weirded out look. "No, really. I'm serious," he explained. "You could legit tickle me to death with my feet alone. R.I.P. Me."

Laughing, she shook her head. "Okay, goofball."

Still, she found herself slipping her grip down his forearm, not stopping until she intertwined her fingers with his. Careful not to look at him, feeling his gaze on the side of her face, she instead watched the moon, the way it reflected against the water line on the horizon, shimmering. It was like magic…if she believed in magic.

"It's so crazy how you can be smack dab in the middle of that big city with concrete and pavement and massive highrise buildings, skyscrapers everywhere around you, and then you get in a car for a half hour and end up in a place like this, huh?" he prompted.

"On good traffic days, you mean," she said, squeezing his hand playfully.

He laughed. "Right. Good point. On good traffic days. Or, I guess, if it's, like, two in the morning." He pulled their hands up so he could look at his watch. "Closer to three now. I'm sorry I'm keeping you out so late."

They stopped at the water's edge and she took a deep breath, the sea air both calming and intoxicating all at once. "I wouldn't have said yes to this trek if I didn't want to be here." She looked at him with a small smile, waiting for him to turn his gaze from the water to her before she added, "I tend not to do things if I don't want to do them."

That was a lie, she knew.

Because it was true in a lot of ways, and in one big way it wasn't: she did what the CIA told her to do, what Langston Graham, director of the intelligence agency, told her what to do. It was how she'd been pegged as his "Wildcard Enforcer", and the man had been reveling in it ever since with a sort of glee that grated on her.

She was pulled in two directions, depending on the day, or the mission; the first being that she was disgusted and appalled at some of the things she'd done just because they'd ordered her to do it "for the good of the country", and the second being that she was determined to be the best damn spy she could be, prove herself to them, to everyone, to herself, that she was indispensable. She wanted to leave the spy world… and she wanted to dominate the spy world. And it was confusing.

What she didn't realize as she stood there on the shore in Malibu, the waves licking at her toes before falling back again, was that the way she was pulled in two directions with the CIA was one of the things that made her the most human. She was too trapped in the assumption that anything about her that had to do with the CIA made her less human and more of a machine, a robot.

But the cold water making contact with her bare feet, the press of the sand against her heels, the pads of her toes, the way it made a shiver go through her, the breeze against her face, the feeling of his fingers threaded through hers, how warmth stemmed from his touch, all meant she was incredibly human.

And nothing she did would ever take that away.


A/N: I just wanna hug her so bad sometimes. Sarah Walker, CIA agent, and the most human-y human to ever hum.

Thanks for the reviews, everyone. They mean a lot. Hope you're enjoying this so far. More to come!

-SC