Critical Hellfire
By Steampunk . Chuckster
Summary: Chuck and Morgan are co-hosts of a locally popular streaming channel in which they discuss all things metal while playing video games. Their lives are uprooted when their demo guy hands them THE demo of the ages—a band called Critical Hellfire, fronted by singer and bassist Sarah Walker. AU Charah.
A/N: Proceed, Critical Hellfire travelers.
Disclaimer: I don't own CHUCK or any of its characters. I don't own any of the songs mentioned in this chapter, this fic, or anywhere else for that matter. I am making absolutely zero dollars writing and posting this.
"Byyye, Bartowskiiiii," Cole sang out behind him. "Drive safe, won't you…"
Chuck decided not to even look back. It wasn't worth the "Fuck you, Cole Barker" he wanted to say. What would it accomplish except make this defeat look even more…defeat-y?
Instead he climbed into his car and backed out of the set awkwardly, turning onto the dirt road, and winding his way to the exit. He might as well take the scenic routes, since it didn't matter what time he got back to LA… All of that was kaput.
Maybe he gave up too easily.
Maybe part of him knew he'd fail and that was why?
Or maybe it just hurt bad enough to see the embarrassment in Sarah's face as she told him to go home the final time. He could see how much she hated saying it, so maybe he could take some comfort in that? Or he might be reaching for any kind of silver lining to this messy dark cloud.
God damn, he'd actually done it. In front of that whole crew, in front of her band, he'd proclaimed his love while precariously perched in his tractionless sneakers on top of a slippery rock.
He felt so ashamed, so mortified.
And he was hurt.
None of the words he'd said out there had accomplished what he'd set out to accomplish. Unlike Sarah, when he'd headed out on his mission, he had not succeeded. He hadn't done everything he could to succeed, perhaps? The way she might've. The way she was, right now, staying at that video shoot. For her career, for her band's. Sure, he knew he had a better opportunity set up for them, but… Well, what did it matter now?
Because what he'd done out there had probably made his relationship with Sarah even less of a possibility at this point. He'd said something awful to her, and then he'd almost doubled down on it, only with everyone hearing it, and then he'd told her he loved her. Worst timing. She likely never wanted to see him again.
Worse than all of that, he had failed to get Critical Hellfire to come home to LA with him. And that meant no Jake and Dan. No Vera. No Diane Beckman. He should've been more convincing. Maybe he should've left the jealousy crap off the table and honed in more on the car commercial being a shitty opportunity. Maybe he should've emphasized the snake that wasn't local, the fake cactus. Their garbage outfits and all-white instruments that weren't even their own. He'd even heard Whitesnake blasting when he pulled up, but why wasn't Critical Hellfire playing their own? Even a recording they made of their own version would make way more sense.
It was like nobody there actually wanted this band to go places.
Now he had to go back to LA and look in everyone's faces and… God, how was he going to break it to them that he'd failed?
For a second there, Ellie had really made him feel like he'd do it. He'd have to crush that.
He thought maybe he'd call them from the road so that he didn't have to see their initial disappointment in person. …But then that was cowardly.
So he would wait 'til he pulled into the driveway and trudged down to his basement studio. Timing didn't matter anymore. He'd have to call Jake and explain everything. His failure at appealing to the band, at appealing to his girlfriend.
He'd give himself a few minutes first, maybe an hour into the drive, he'd feel less like the bubble of bad emotions was lodged in his throat.
Everything was shit and he'd done this to himself. He'd done it to everyone else.
Feeling extra terrible, he passed through the exit of the national park and made his way towards the main highway, his heart busted into pieces.
}o{
The whole set was silent.
Chuck was gone.
She couldn't even see the dirt cloud from his car anymore.
Nobody moved, still watching the departure even though he'd disappeared from the horizon. Nothing felt right. Nothing about this felt right. It felt even more off all of a sudden.
Even the snake had stilled; maybe she was asleep again. Obviously she hadn't given a shit about all the human drama unfolding around her.
And then Sarah felt a presence close behind her shoulder.
"It's really depressing, isn't it? He could've been something… But some people are just destined to be losers for their whole lives." Cole sighed sympathetically. "Stuck in their ways, getting in their own way at the same time." Sarah felt ire rise. Loser? She wanted to wrap him up in this snake and watch as it bit his ruggedly handsome face.
There was a pause and he continued, more softly, "I'm sorry he said those things to you. Obviously he's swinging as he falls, trying to hit anything he can, drag everyone down with him. Going after you like that, though? Inexcusable. Sad. Really sad." There was a beat. "After the shoot's over, I can treat you to dinner, drinks. Just you and me. You'll forget all about it. …About him."
And there it was. The final straw. Everything she'd already known, had side-stepped, had tiptoed around, had avoided, politely pulling her band along, ghosting his invitations. Chuck had been right about Cole; she had been wrong, looking at the wrong parts of Cole's efforts, maybe on purpose because she wanted what she wanted.
You'll see I'm right when it stops being 'Ohh I'll take the band out for dinner tonight!' and instead is, 'Sarah, why don't you and I go out for dinner tonight?' Just watch.
It all clicked, falling into place.
The other times he'd said "I want to take you out somewhere" and "let's get some drinks" and "I owe you dinner", she'd told the band it was for all of them. She'd convinced herself he couldn't mean anything else but the whole band. That was a lie, though, because she knew deep down what he meant. But he had gotten a strange look in his face each time…Disappointment, maybe trying to find a way to uninvite the rest of the band, deeming it useless, and going with it. Because it was all about her. He'd been pursuing her this whole time and she'd been so focused on her mission, and a part of her had noticed and had kept going because the band needed this boost to get the success they craved. She fucking hated being wrong. She didn't do well with being wrong.
Chuck had been wrong in one respect, though, and he probably knew it. He was wrong that she'd invite Cole's extra affections. Never. Not in a million years.
She'd let him use her band to get closer to her, trying to make her grateful, grateful enough to…what, want to hop into bed with him? That was really what this was the whole time? It was so beyond-the-pale gross and awful that Chuck's insistence felt like pure jealousy. And while Chuck hadn't been right to deliver it to her in a shit sandwich the way he did, he was right about what Cole was attempting to do.
Was this how Cole Barker always operated? Using his money and influence to pull unsuspecting women looking for their big break into his bed? Maybe some of the women weren't unsuspecting and they felt there was no other choice?
Sarah couldn't judge those women, but she would never be them. Not now, not ever.
She looked around the set, at the fake shit, at the clothes they made the band change into. Cole made them spend so much more time on Sarah's wardrobe, hair, and makeup. She'd already done a handful of shots that were just her and this damn python. The stupid sexy dancing on a rock.
She felt absolutely mortified that she'd been so willfully stubborn, operating with blind ambition. She'd subjugated herself and the rest of the members of her band, her family, to the stupidest music video shoot of all time.
For a car nobody fucking wanted.
But before she could open her mouth, before she could tell the beautiful snake in her arms to bite the fucker standing way too close to her, Dylan climbed down from his marker and pushed his guitar into the nearest crew member's hands. "There you go, ol' chap. Have fun," he said in a spoof of Cole's English accent.
He kept walking, past the cameras, the rest of the crew, headed off the set altogether.
"Dylan. Where are you going?" Cole asked loudly in her ear.
The guitarist shot back over his shoulder. "To our van where all my stuff is. I'm following the nerd."
Sarah's heart stuttered, her eyes going wide. A smile started to grow on her face.
"What?!" Cole snapped. "You're staying right here and finishing the shoot. Just like the contract says! Remember that, olll' chap?" he finished in a mocking tone.
Uh oh.
Dylan stopped, slowly turning on his gaudy cowboy boot heel. And then he slowly made his way back, his jaw clenched. Uhhh oh.
Sarah inched away from Cole, not wanting any of the blowback.
"You know what those hairstylists tried to do? Cut my hair." Wait, he hadn't told them that. "They tried to make me take it out of the braids and they tried to cut it. And man, I just said no and they let it be…? But I'm done with this conforming bullshit. I'm not cutting my hair, I'm not dressing like the mother fuckers who killed my ancestors and then made movies about killing my ancestors and got fuckin' Oscars for it." He pulled the Stetson off and threw it in the dirt. "And this sonofabitch over here with his bleached tips," he pointed at Tanner Astin, "keeps calling me 'Braids' which is a whole extra level of ignorance." He pointed at the guitar he'd just unloaded onto the stunned crew. "That isn't my guitar! My guitar doesn't sparkle. The music I create is where the sparkle comes from. My music sparkles like the God damn sun on the Pacific God damn ocean!" Sarah bit down on the inside of her lip. So Dylan was a poet now? Epic.
"I don't need fuckin' glitter on my guitar! And what the fuck is this python even doing here?" He pointed at the snake as he neared them. "She's in the wrong part of the world, give her back to her own land and leave her the fuck alone!"
The trainer looked a bit contrite at that.
Dylan pointed off to the side. "And that? That's a fake cactus! What is it doing here? There are actual real cacti out here, for fuck's sake. The most famous cactus of all pop culture is right fuckin' there! The yucca! Jesus, y'all! Were you planning on putting a fake cactus in this music video? 'Cause it's bad enough we have a tropical python in the desert for some reason, we're all fake playing instruments that aren't ours to the original song we reworked to fit our sound and style, wearing stupid shit we'd never wear ourselves, in high heels climbing on rocks that are millions of years old. Man, I dunno what we were thinking. It's disrespectful to us and to this sacred land." He turned to the band. "I'm sorry. I know we all agreed to this, but I am so out. This isn't us. This isn't Critical Hellfire. Like my brother Chuck said, we're placeholders. We walk outta here, they'll hire four actors to replace us and it won't make any difference. This isn't getting us onto a record label. It's a dead-end. I'm outta here. I dunno what that crazy dude has planned but it's gotta be better than this so I'm following Chuck."
He turned and walked away again.
"I'd like to remind you of the contract you signed!" Cole yelled after him. Was that the only language this asshole knew?
"Shove the contract I signed up your ass and choke on it, bruh," Dylan said over his shoulder. "Nasty piece o' shit," he practically spat, giving Cole the dirtiest look she thought she'd ever seen. Deserved.
Sarah turned as she heard scrambling on the rocks behind her. Mac rushed through the cellists and hopped down, throwing a peace sign at everyone, only to change it to a middle finger once he swept past Cole Barker.
He didn't even have to say anything with words. That sufficed, she thought.
A smile was growing in her chest, a powerful pull. And it was growing on her face, too.
Zondra followed right after, turning to shrug like what can ya do, tossing her Flying V at the director who just barely caught it, having to drop the clipboard he was holding onto.
Sarah shoved the snake into Cole's arms. "There ya go, girlie. Have a nice life." He took it, gaping, unable to do anything but accept the heavy serpent. "Heavy, isn't she, Cole? Maybe you can gyrate in front of the camera while holding her in my place, huh? Put your hips into it."
"What?!" Cole turned to desperately pass the snake to her handler. "Sarah, don't! Don't, don't. Look, we can make do with the footage of the band that we captured so far. But we need you. I-I need you, Sarah. Please!"
He was following after her in a panic.
"We have a video to shoot! You signed the contract. You knew what you were getting into when you—"
"You used my band to try to get into my pants, you sick fuck," she hissed, not stopping for even a moment.
"That isn't true! I do care about you but I want—"
"You don't believe in this band, you don't care about what happens to us. Chuck was right, you don't even care about what happens to me. I'm positive I'd just be one of the many girls dreaming of stardom who end up tossed to the side when you don't get what you want from them. But you aren't laying a finger on me, and for what it's worth…you never would have, even if you'd gotten us inducted into the Rock & Roll Hall of Fame."
That seemed to finally get under his skin and she watched the claws come out, the facade he'd been wearing for weeks dissipating like it'd never been there in the first place. "We can sue you all for breach of contract, you know."
"Sue us!" she snapped over her shoulder. "See if I give a fuck."
"I offered you the world and you threw it back in my face. You realize how foolish that is, don't you?"
She finally stopped, looking at him. The band had already climbed into the van with all of their instruments, gear, luggage, and the clothes they'd arrived wearing stowed in the back. They were waiting for her.
She wouldn't keep them waiting for long.
"We don't want the world," she said, shaking her head. "Not if we lose ourselves in the process. Who we are. Our home, our roots, our people. Critical Hellfire isn't just me, it isn't just the lead singer. It never has been, never will be. It isn't any one of us individually. It is all the pieces together. The four of us. All four…or none. That's it. You don't get that." And then a realization swept over her like a one-hundred foot wave crashing right on top of her head. "Chuck does."
Cole reared back, making a face of disgust. "Chuck Bartowski is a loser with a webcam in a filthy basement under his parents' house. He'll take you nowhere fast."
That was all bullshit and she knew it. She didn't need to convince this prick of that, though. He could think what he wanted. She wasn't wasting her breath for him anymore.
He shook his head, looking at her with pity. "Your savior complex that draws you to him is commendable, darling, but it's also blinding you to the truth: he's a liar. He doesn't have any audition set-up, he has no plan, and what's more, he has no show. Because that show belongs to me now. And I'm going to gut it. Because it's trash and always has been."
"Booooo, you whore!" she heard Mac yell out of the van.
Sarah ignored Cole's attempts at stabbing her in the side, shoving her bass into Cole's arms and wiggling her fingers in a mocking wave at him, climbing into the backseat next to Zondra. Dylan was at the wheel with Mac next to him.
Cole's barbs didn't take hold.
Because Chuck Bartowski was a guy with not much else but a webcam and a comfy couch in a basement under his family home.
She grinned like an idiot as she slid the door shut with a finality.
He was also a lot more than just a guy with a webcam in a basement…and she was in love with him, his strengths and flaws and everything in between.
Apparently Cole Barker had realized he was losing something of a cash cow now, his business taking a hit, because he dropped the nastiness and instead broke into pleading through Zondra's window, his voice muffled and somehow even more pathetic. "No, please! Sarah! We need—No, damn it! God damn it, I can't. Not him. Not Bartowski." He thumped his fist into the window with a deeply embarrassing, "I can't lose the girl to Chuck Bartowski!"
Zondra slapped her hand against the window to cover his face from her view, turning her head away from it with a disgusted face, as if it was too pathetic for her to be able to even stomach.
And Mac slowly rolled down his window in front of Zondra, peering out at Cole with a distinct disgust of his own.
"Ew. As if you ever had her to begin with. Gross."
He rolled his window up as Sarah leaned forward to put her hand on Dylan's shoulder. "Let's get the hell out of here. We have a nerd to catch."
Dylan slammed his foot on the pedal, backing their van out of there, whipping the wheel to the side so that it kicked dust up around everyone on set, then he sped off down the dirt road, headed for the exit of the park.
"Chuck's so-called plan… Ahem, you guys all think it's real…right? He didn't just…say that?" Mac asked. They all glanced at one another and then let out a, "Nahhhhhh" all together. "Of course they've got a plan," the drummer continued.
"I think the question is whether or not it's actually gonna work or not," Zondra said. "But I'm gonna put my money on those two nuts."
Sarah leaned to the side, her forehead pressed against the cool glass of the window.
The truth of the matter was, they didn't really have any other choice now.
And that was okay with her.
}o{
Chuck was half-drowning in deep wallowing when he heard an incessant beeping sound behind him. What the hell? If he was going too slow, they could just go around him. He'd just cleared out of Yucca Valley proper and was now on the long, straight desert freeway; it wasn't like there was only one lane. Go around, he gestured with his hand towards his back window.
People were nuts.
And he wasn't in the mood for stupid road rage nonsense.
He looked in his rearview mirror, meaning to wave out the window for them to be his guest and pass him if they wanted to, but the van was literally right on his ass. And the people in the frontseat were waving at him frantically…
…Wait. Was that…?
The van tore into the next lane over and zoomed up next to him. He could only gape as Mac rolled his window down and beamed at him. Chuck quickly put his own window down.
"Hey, butthead! Pull over!"
Chuck's heart was racing as he finally had the reality of the situation settle inside of him, and he nodded, beaming at the Critical Hellfire drummer. He turned back to the road and looked around for a good spot. There was a dirt road that led from the freeway off to an old wooden shack, maybe some kind of abandoned storage shack?
He didn't know. But it would do.
He pointed towards it, Mac nodded, turned to relay the message to the driver, and the car and van slid off of the road, headed along the dirt path, skidding to a stop near the shack, side by side.
Chuck sat for a moment behind the wheel, wondering what in the hell was going on exactly. All he knew was that he'd just been chased down and basically forced off the road by people he'd thought he'd alienated badly enough that they'd never give him the time of day again.
But Dylan and Mac and Zondra had gotten out of the van and he needed to not just keep sitting here like a fucking dumbass, so he scrambled out of the car, practically beheading himself by not unbuckling his seatbelt first.
He was still rubbing his sore neck as he approached the threesome. "What…what are…?"
"Man, fuck those people and their fake-ass music video," Mac said as he came nearer.
Chuck let out a breathy chuckle in disbelief, grinning widely at them. "Oh, man. I thought—"
But then there was movement out of the corner of his eye and as he turned to see what it was, his voice died in his throat.
Sarah slowly walked around the back of the van, running her hand along the back bumper, looking up at him through her eyelashes. She had an unreadable look on her face.
"Oh," he breathed, his heart roaring to life in his chest. "You're here, too."
"Contrary to popular belief, Chuck Bartowski, I'm all about this band. Where they go, I go. All or none."
He deserved the first part of that. He definitely did.
But Sarah closed the distance, grabbing him by the front of the shirt. "You and I, we're going to talk. Right now." And she dragged him around her bandmates. "Sorry, we'll just be a few."
"Uh, take your time," Zondra chirped, giving Chuck a Ooooo you're in trouble look he did not miss.
Sarah pulled him behind the shack, immediately turning to face him, just looking up at him, squinting at him in the desert sun.
"Hi," he finally mumbled, shifting his weight uncomfortably, not knowing at all what was going through her head.
She waited for a moment, glancing off to the side, and when her gaze came back to him, she spoke softly. "You said some very hurtful things to me."
Chuck frowned. "I know I said you look like Sigourney Weaver after Zuul possesses her in Ghostbusters, but the truth is, she was somehow a lot hotter in those scenes. A lot hotter." She just stared at him, her mouth becoming a thin hard line. He cleared his throat. "Maybe not the best time for that. I know what you meant. I did say hurtful things. I'm so sorry, Sarah. I mean that. It was immature, mean, childish…wrong."
Sarah pursed her lips and raised her eyebrows, finally letting go of his shirt, clasping her hands together in front of her and letting her arms fall limply to her sides. "No. That's the thing. You weren't wrong. Not about what you said. Part of it." She pointed at him in warning. "It took me way too long to realize it, or maybe it was a lack of acknowledgment. I don't know. It'll take more sitting and thinking about it later before I figure that out. But you were right about Cole. He was using the band to try to seduce me. Fucking gross. And I wanted to get us somewhere so bad, I had blinders on. Or I pushed it aside because it wasn't as important as getting our big break." Then she gave Chuck a severe look. "But the way you said it cut. It cut deep."
His heart seized in his chest. Hearing her say it with so much candidness, seeing the hurt in her eyes, hurt him worse than any of this had. Chuck didn't hesitate. He reached out to curl his fingers around her elbow and pulled her a little closer, waiting until her blue eyes met his brown ones before he spoke with as much sincerity as he had in him. "I'm so sorry. I said that crap with the intention of cutting into you. It was mean. This isn't an excuse, but I was in this place of…loss. I don't know how to describe it. I've never felt so hurt or lost in my life, in spite of the things I've had to go through. That show was something Morgan and I built for years, and-and to be cut away from it and have it stolen in a way that was so purposefully cruel… I'm-I'm not accustomed to people coming at me with that much pernicious…cruelty. And I guess I pulled it into my heart and shoved it back out at you when you did nothing to deserve it. Just because I was jealous. I-I can't take it back and I know that. But I'll do anything to make up for it, and you hafta know I'll never do that again."
Her tongue darted out to lick her lips and she looked down at his chest in thought, before lifting her gaze to meet his again. "You'd better not…"
Chuck shifted his grip from her elbow up her arm, squeezing, a small smile on his lips. "If you're willing to give me a second chance, Sarah, which I-I hope you are because I feel like second chances are important in-in some situations." He cleared his throat. "If you're willing to give me a second chance, I can't promise perfection. I can't promise to be the type of guy who deserves to be hoisted onto a pedestal of greatness. I'm kind of…broken in a lot of places." She finally moved to press a hand to his chest and it felt so good his knees almost buckled. "But I promise to learn from my mistakes, to do better. I promise to try. I'm better than the other guys you've dated, I swear, and I'll prove it," he said almost desperately.
That had stuck in him, admittedly. The way she'd likely lumped him in with the other pieces of shit she'd dated, like Christian. Who cut her deep. Unapologetically.
Sarah shook her head, her brow furrowed. "Chuck, stop. No, I-I don't want you comparing yourself to the other guys I've been with. It isn't fair. Putting that on you wasn't fair. I didn't approach this relationship right, I don't think. I'm sorry for that." She bit her lip, wincing. "And since we're all doing this apology thing, Chuck, I need you to know I'm sorry for being a shitty girlfriend—again—in the quest for Critical Hellfire getting signed to a record label."
He just stared at her, a trickle of warmth mixed with a certain buzz going through him.
"…Chuck? Did you hear what I said? You don't have any sort of…response? Or something?"
"Y-Yes. I did hear. Sorry. You used the word 'quest' and it's doing things to me. Especially with you dressed like this."
She gave him the biggest eye roll, but then she stopped, giving him a curious look and gesturing to her whole ensemble with a tilt of her finger. "This does something for you?"
"I…don't know. I can't tell." He swallowed hard, taking it all in. "Like, you yourself do something for me, no matter what you're in, so I don't know if it's just that or if it's this ensemble."
She seemed to giggle almost in spite of herself, shaking her head. "You're so sweet and weird."
"Mhm. I'm the Pop Rocks of people. Sweet, but definitely weird. Like, what the hell do they put in those things that they explode on your tongue like that? It's so weird." He shook himself as she merely stared at him with a quietly amused look. "I heard what you said. You aren't a shitty girlfriend." He watched dubiousness cross her gorgeous features. "No, I'm serious. I mean, it stung a little that you were willing to work with a guy who'd shoved me an' Morgs off a cliff and stole our most priceless possession." Sarah winced, looking genuinely remorseful. "But I said it before, I'll say it again. Nobody tells a band of just dudes not to pursue every avenue they're granted to gain notoriety and success in the music industry."
"Yeah, and just like the first time you said that, I don't think it's a good excuse for the way we basically stepped over Games N Rock Sessions' dead body to get what we thought we'd earned. I apologize, Chuck. It wasn't right." She made a disgusted face. "And to do it for such a bullshit thing as that fucking fake car commercial. Oh my God, Chuck, you don't even know the half of what they set up…"
He wrinkled up his nose. "Bad?"
She looked miserable. "Terrible. That python…"
"Well, okay, the snake was kind of cool. I maybe wanted to hold it. Just a little."
Sarah rolled her eyes with a smile. "You and your snake thing. Geek. And no, not nerd. I mean geek this time."
"Fair."
She huffed. "It was so clear that wasn't going to get us to where we wanted to go and I think we were all desperate but no one was as blind and desperate as I was. I worry they were all just kind of going along with it because I was so sure it was our ticket." She twisted her fist in his shirt. "It's very clear to me now, this was all the product of a rich, powerful man wanting to sleep with a naive girl with stars in her eyes, throwing anything at her he thought would stick."
He shivered, and he couldn't help feeling a jealous anger prickling at the back of his neck. Obviously, Sarah was never in danger of falling into Cole Barker's trap, not in that way.
"Anything having to do with your band was gonna stick, no matter who threw it, Sarah. Because it's the most important thing in your life. And that makes sense. You guys have been working at this for years."
She tilted her head, fixing him with a stare. "Just like you and Morgan worked on your Twitch channel for years. That didn't seem to mean as much to me when I—we, but I can only apologize for myself, so I'll say I for now—jumped into this venture headfirst in spite of what he did to you guys. I'm sorry." She bit her lip. "What was it you said about second chances?"
"That they're important?"
Sarah gave him a slow, wide smile, looking at him through her eyelashes.
"You don't have to be so darned cute, Sarah Walker, I've already forgiven you. What do you think that mess was out there at Skull Rock?" Her smile got even wider somehow. "I'm not gonna ask for your forgiveness, because I know what I said was pretty unforgivable…but please don't break up with me?"
She furrowed her brow in confusion. "Chuck. Baby." She cupped his face, shaking her head. "I wasn't gonna break up with you. I was hurt and pissed, yeah. And I reverted to my probably dysfunctional habit of brushing painful things under the rug to ignore them until I had the bandwidth to deal with it. I'm…not saying I was right for it."
"You brushed me under the rug?"
"I tried to. Didn't quite work out, but I pretended it did."
"Is it because I followed you to Skull Rock?" He grinned. "Sounds like an old Western. He Followed Her to Skull Rock. Starring Lee Marvin and Angie Dickinson."
"I don't know any of those people."
Chuck's jaw almost fell open. He decided he shouldn't be all that shocked. Sarah Walker didn't seem like a Western fan. "Okay, fair."
"That isn't why."
He pursed his lips in question.
"I couldn't just brush you under the rug, Chuck, and it isn't that you kept trying to call me, or that you followed me to the desert."
He winced, getting caught on the first part. "Did I call too many times? I worried that I called too many t—"
"I love you, too."
Chuck froze.
She shrugged, as if she couldn't help it. It just was what it was.
Fuck this.
He dove in, his arms winding around her midsection, and he kissed her. She sucked air in through her nose in a surprised gasp, but then she grabbed him and pulled him even closer just as quickly.
Sarah slid one hand along the back of his neck, smiling against his lips.
They broke the kiss, foreheads still pressed together.
"Can I go home with you?" she asked, shrugging one shoulder cutely.
"Um. Hell yes." He gave her his best duh look and she giggled. "But we actually gotta get outta here, like now. There's a lot to do before showtime."
"Okay." Sarah nodded, but caught his hand in hers, pulling him back behind their little hiding spot. "Wait. Uh…" She winced. "Will you ask me to come with you in front of them?"
He tilted his head. "Uh. Sure?"
"Well." She gave him a teasing look. "I don't want them to know how easily I forgave you. They think I'm a lot more stubborn than that, not such a softie." She snorted as he rolled his eyes and shook his head. "Listen, I know who I am. I'm working on it, but I'm not there yet."
They laughed together and he tilted his chin, catching her lips in another kiss. When he pulled back, he met her gaze. "I got your back, Sarah."
She kind of gazed at him for a long moment and softly said, "I know."
Chuck took a moment to beam at her, then pulled her out from behind the wooden shack.
The rest of Critical Hellfire turned to watch them approach, all three of them with particular smiles on their faces. Let 'em tease. He didn't care.
"Oh, good," Dylan drawled, eyeing the way Chuck and Sarah's fingers were threaded together. "That's over." He turned to Chuck then clasped his hands together. "We're sorry. We chose fame and stardom over being good friends. We should've told that bastard to take a hike a long time ago."
Mac and Zondra held up their hands. "Sorry," Zondra muttered.
"Please forgive us?" Mac added. "I'll let you touch my special stick…?" They all gave him weirded out looks and he shrugged. "What? It's one of Neal Peart's drumsticks. My dad passed it down to me. Neal tossed his sticks out at the crowd after a Rush show in the 'eighties and pops caught one."
"You said it like that on purpose," Zondra droned.
"I don't know what you mean."
Dylan rolled his eyes and turned to Chuck again. "So what's this big plan you and Morgan came up with?"
"We have to get on the road immediately, so I have to explain it to everyone when we get to my basement," he gestured at his car.
"Shorter version," Zondra demanded, crossing her arms at her chest, not budging.
"Okay, then. Shorter version. We've found a way to get you out to a massive metal audience. Live. Directly at the right people, people who do give a fuck about metal." He grinned, watching as Mac and Dylan exchanged excited looks, the former rubbing his hands together and bouncing on his toes. Chuck turned to Sarah. "Will you ride with me? You can text 'em my address while I drive…" He leaned in closer. "We can, uh, keep talking." He added a small wince for good measure.
Sarah waited for a beat, sending him an amused secret look, and then, "Sure! Yeah, okay."
They all got into their respective vehicles and he preened at the impressed look Sarah shot him. "That was pretty good, nerd. I'm almost a little concerned at how smooth that was." She giggled. "You didn't actually have to do that. I was pullin' your leg. Flirting."
"I know." He led the way back onto the 62. And because he was on a bit of a high, Sarah's hand clasped in his again, he turned to look at her, giving her the schmaltziest look he was capable of. "I'm so glad you decided to leave that music video set. I'm glad you decided to come back with me, Sarah."
She melted back against the passenger seat, giving him an adorable closed-mouth smile.
He waited a beat, and then: "Because now when we're back on the LA freeways, I can use the carpool laaaaaaane!"
Sarah seemed confused for a split second, and then what he said struck her and she cracked up, rocking forward. He chuckled, looking at the road in front of his car. She pulled her hand from his, then reached up to rub the back of his neck, making him flash her a toothy grin.
"I hate you. …I love you."
Chuck shook himself, letting out a low whistle. "Whiplash."
She giggled at him, threading her hand with his again, and they headed for the horizon, west, out of the desert and back towards the coast, the world feeling a lot lighter than it had even a few hours earlier.
A/N: Mac absolutely grew up in the Mean Girls era.
Review if you can! I'd appreciate it!
-SC