I don't own Chuck. Actually, I don't own much of anything.

This is some silliness I found in the collection of half-baked ideas on my hard drive. Actually, this is a more half-baked than most (or should it be less half-baked?). Anyway, it's not based on any timeline and really isn't all that true to the characters (just like the show, lol). The idea was a collection of vignettes based upon the concept of General Beckman getting a call at 3:00 in the morning having to explain something unprofessional and crazy that Team Bartowski did… mostly as some thinly veiled excuse to turn a mission assignment into a sappy Charah… um… physical encounter. What could possibly go wrong?

Content Warning: I've said many times that you can watch almost any episode of the show and find something to enjoy… but if you try and piece those episodes into a coherent story… your head explodes. Try and take this seriously at your own risk. Your head may explode.

I didn't want to subject any beta to this much sappiness, so any mistakes are my own.

If you enjoyed this or any of the stories on this site, please take a second and send the author a review. It only takes a second – and it really, really makes a difference. If it's clever enough, who knows? It just might inspire something.

What's Good for the Goose

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Diane Beckman tried to focus enough to look at the clock. One would think that she would be used to be awakened at 3:00 in the morning. After all, with her out of control team on the West Coast, it was only midnight there. At least it wasn't the President's ringtone… at least, not yet. This was the standard tone which meant that the Operations Officer of the Day had patched an urgent call to her… and that always meant one thing. She clicked on her laptop, partially to get that damned ringing to stop, but mostly with dread. What kind of fresh hell was Colonel Casey going to brief her on this time?

Except it wasn't the Colonel. "Agent Walker," Beckman said. "Is something wrong?" Once her eyes were focused and she could take a second look, something was obviously wrong. What few clothes Walker was wearing were definitely disheveled. The plain white shirt she was almost wearing plainly said that she had somehow misplaced her bra. Her hair was a tangled mess and there was a clear mouse forming under her left eye.

Sarah finally looked up when she heard the voice. "Hi," was all she said.

Beckman did a double take. "Agent Walker," she said. "What's wrong? Are you drunk?"

Well, talk about a stupid question… and apparently hilarious. It got Sarah giggling. "Yup," she said. "Smashed. Blotto. Trashed. It's all Gertrude's fault. That girl can really drink."

General Beckman could only shake her head. This was a conversation that was clearly destined towards not going well. "Agent Walker," she said. "You were on an assignment. Where are Agents Bartowski and Casey?"

Sarah paused for a long moment to think. "Oh yeah," she finally remembered. "They're in jail. You probably need to bail them out."

General Beckman wiped her eyes. At least now she was fully awake. "Why are they in jail?" she asked. "What happened?"

Sarah was still giggling. "It was a barroom brawl right out of the movies," she said. "It was so messed up. I had the best time."

Beckman willed the calm into her voice. "Agent Walker," she said. "Slow down… take a deep breath… and tell me what happened. Why are they in jail?"

Sarah paused for another moment. "It's all Gertrude's fault," she repeated. "I think the girl likes to fight more than she likes to drink… and that's a lot."

So now Beckman was getting frustrated. "Who in the hell is Gertrude?" she asked.

"Gertrude Verbanski," Sarah said. "Casey's fuc… um, he's dating her."

Great. Verbanski? That was horrible news. They already had some history. She was a bigger loose cannon than even Bartowski… and that was pretty damn loose. "And why was Ms. Verbanski with you?" Beckman asked. "Weren't you supposed to be looking for Lopez tonight?"

Sarah paused for a long moment trying to remember. "Um, oh yeah," she finally said. "Chuck tracked him down. We tailed him to a strip club. It was his bright idea to have me enter amateur night so we could keep tabs on him. Between you and me that was just his excuse to talk me into one of those places… make it a mission. Well, Casey said that it would be weird to have me with two guys… so he called Gertrude."

"Let me guess," Beckman said. "You dragged Bartowski into one of the private rooms and knocked his socks off. This is exactly why a married couple doesn't make good spy partners."

Sarah started giggling again. "I guess maybe we both had our own readymade excuses to lose my clothes," she said. "Chuck is always saying 'What's good for the goose is good for the gander'. Now I just have to find out what a gander is to see if he's right. I didn't have to drag him. He was more than willing… and it was more than his socks."

"And that started the brawl?"

"No," Sarah said. "That was all Gertrude. I guess she likes to fight more than she likes strange men to touch her chest."

"How did you get that mouse under your eye? Are you injured?"

Sarah touched her cheek. "Oh this?" she sighed. "This is nothing. Lopez got in a cheap shot. He hits like a pussy. I keep telling everyone. It's a lot easier to throw a kick when you're naked. The paramedics said he'll probably be out of the hospital in a few days. Casey says maybe you should put him into protective custody. I'll go find Casey for you."

"Agent Walker," Beckman said firmly. "Stay where you are. You are not to drive again tonight. Go into one of the living quarter's rooms and go to bed."

"I'm fine," Sarah protested. "I can drive home."

"That's a direct order," Beckman said. "Do you understand? I have to arrange for bail. At least I'll have someone sober who can tell me what in the hell happened tonight."

Fortunately, bail wouldn't be necessary. Chuck and Casey came bounding down the stairs.

"Sweetie," Sarah said. She threw her arms around his neck and basically collapsed into him. "You're here."

Chuck was laughing. "Yeah, baby," he said in his best 50's gangster voice. "They haven't built the jail that can hold me."

Beckman had heard about enough foolishness for one night. "Colonel Casey," she said with absolutely no sense of humor. "Care to tell me who is with you? Why you would bring a civilian into a sensitive facility? And why in God's name would you involve her in a classified mission?"

Casey's face was most definitely red. "This is Gertrude Verbanski," he said. "She's not exactly a civilian. She volunteered to help with our cover. We didn't discuss anything classified."

Beckman already had her file on the screen. "Ms. Verbanski," she said. "We have to stop meeting like this. Okay, you're still duly deputized… but this is highly inappropriate. I want to advise you that repeating anything classified you hear tonight would be a felony."

Verbanski wasn't dressed any better than Walker, but at least she appeared a little more sober. "Yes, ma'am," she said. "I understand."

"Okay, Colonel," Beckman sighed. "Care to tell me what happened this time?"

"Yes, ma'am," Casey said. "Once Bartowski had… um, 'identified' the subject, we tailed him to a club. Once I scouted the area from the outside, it was plain that the subject was using it as a base of operations. Normally we would have briefed the DEA and monitored the situation from outside while they organized a raid… but we didn't have any real probable cause to show a judge. He had far too many bodyguard types to try and take him on openly in there. We decided to go in as patrons. Well, it would have been odd for the three of us to wander into a strip club. Bartowski suggested…"

"That Agent Walker enter amateur night," Beckman interrupted in a huff. "Yeah, I've already heard this part. You called Ms. Verbanski. I suppose neither of you had to spend much time talking the ladies into it."

"No, ma'am," Casey said. "Neither of them are particularly bashful. They certainly met the qualifications to enter the contest. I think that both were more than willing. Well, I'm not sure if you've ever been in one of those places."

"Oddly, I haven't," Beckman said. "Care to enlighten me?"

"As you can imagine, both were well received," Casey said. "Men kept buying them drinks. Once things got going, they are both pretty competitive, seeing who could outdrink the other. It's standard for the amateurs to give lap dances while they're in the contest. Bartowski and I were just going to stay and observe, but apparently someone crossed a line… and that started…"

"A brawl," Beckman interrupted again. "Yeah, I heard. What line could possibly be crossed with a naked agent giving some drunk stranger a lap dance? Imagine that? Now we have a brawl in a public place with a covert subject. I suppose I'll be seeing this on the news."

"Actually, it worked out," Chuck interjected. "In the brawl, Lopez's bodyguards were all busy with other people. Sarah was able to engage… and… um… subdue him and we were all able to remain covert. When the police responded to the brawl, they found about a hundred kilos of cocaine. They notified the DEA so Casey and I kept our cover. We were arrested along with all the other men… but Gertrude followed us and was able to use her contacts to get us released on OR. Thanks to Sarah's left foot, Lopez is in the jail infirmary just waiting to be taken into federal custody. There is now one more drug ring that will no longer be financing terrorists."

Beckman could only shake her head. There was definitely more to this story… which she was probably better off not knowing. At least this development meant she wouldn't have the President calling later with the DEA Director in tow wanting her ass in his briefcase. Now the conversation with the DEA Director would change into haggling between the agencies about who could claim credit for the huge success. What was it about this team that they could crawl through a pile of fresh cow dung and always come out smelling like a rose? They'd probably get another commendation out of this mess. "Go home," she said. "We'll debrief more fully at a later time… when Agent Walker is sober… and dressed."

When the screen went dark, Sarah was still giggling as she was kissing Chuck's neck. "Mr. Bartowski," she said. "Did I mention how sexy you looked wearing those handcuffs? That's a great look for you."

Suddenly she was kissing his… not his neck… really, really kissing him. That was unusual with the lights on… and doubly so with Casey and Verbanski standing right there. Her tongue tasted like tequila… not that he was complaining. Ever since the day Chuck met her, Sarah was always very conscious of her appearance. She never had a hair out of place, was dressed impeccably, and her makeup was perfect. You surely couldn't say that tonight. Her blouse was torn and what few buttons that were fastened were a hole off. Her makeup was noticeably smudged… and her hair was in desperate need of a brush. Yet with the sparkle in her eyes, she had never looked sexier. "Did I mention how sexy you looked wearing that… birthday suit?" he responded. "That's a great look for you."

Sarah was kissing him again. "I had the best time tonight," she said. "That was a first for me."

At least the next long kiss gave Chuck plenty of time to think. What was the first? Getting naked on assignment? She eagerly stripped down to join that nudist colony… surprisingly eagerly. Fighting… no way. That just left the Strip Club. That was a little hard to believe. Probably best to not challenge her. "Yeah," he teased. "It was my first time in one of those places too."

Okay, so Sarah had been drinking… but she wasn't going to let that slide. She slapped his chest playfully. "Nice try," she giggled. "You're concerned about me being jealous. That's a smart move. Let's stipulate, without going into any details, that we both have some past experiences, and agree that we won't ever enter a strip club again unless we do it together. In that case, we'll both temper our natural tendency to be jealous."

Sarah stopped laughing and got more serious. "That's not the first I was talking about," she said. "I'm trained to be sexy. Part of that is losing any inhibitions about being seen less than fully clothed. I'm so used to it that it doesn't bother me. From day one in the Academy, being sexy was always work for me. It was my least favorite part of training. I had to work extra hard… and I wasn't all that good at it. I just discovered something. Tonight, I wasn't pretending to be sexy. It wasn't work… it was real… and it was fun… one of my favorite things. I love being sexy for you."

Chuck quickly realized that this wasn't the tequila talking. It was something she meant. He pulled her in close. "It was one of my favorite things too," he said. "Your hard work in training really paid off. You're very, very, very good at it."

That didn't get the laugh he expected. "I love being married to you," Sarah said. "I was scared at first. It is so different than my life before. It took me longer than it should have to adjust… but Chuck, I love everything about it. You make me laugh when I need it. You don't hear that often enough from me. It shouldn't take a gallon of tequila to get me to say it."

Chuck wanted to respond… but he found his mouth full. This kiss lasted a long, long time.

Suddenly the kiss broke and Sarah was giggling again. "We could go home and you could model wearing my cuffs for my entertainment," she said. "I have a better idea. We had a good time tonight. The brawl interrupted your lap dance. That means I still owe you one. I'm sure that Gertrude has a similar debt to pay. We don't know who won the contest and we're both competitive. It's still early and there are clubs like that all over. Maybe I can explore my new found favorite thing for your entertainment."

"I'm still wearing the birthday suit under my clothes."

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