The Love Boat

A/N: More of whatever this is

Disclaimer: I don’t own Chuck

“Okay,” Chuck said, sitting up. “Time for a serious conversation.”

“About my socks, your bird, or Ellie being upset with you for not being at your wedding?” Sarah asked, sitting up and facing him, the half-smile on her face.

“Woman,” he said in a low voice. “I am trying to focus, so can you please not bring up the socks?”

“So you’re not focusing on my socks?”

“I am, and that’s the problem,” Chuck told her.

“Why is it a problem?” Sarah asked, leaning forward slightly.

“Because there are men who want to capture you and do unspeakable things to you,” Chuck said.

Sarah watched him for a moment.

He was trying so hard to be dead serious, and it was a serious moment. The problem was it was also adorable.

Which, unfortunately for him, made it much harder for her to behave.

“Okay,” she said, trying to sound serious.

Chuck narrowed his eyes.

“You're smiling.”

“No, I'm not.”

“You absolutely are.”

“I am listening to you.”

“You're listening to me while smiling.”

Sarah's smile grew. She let out a sigh. “Oh, you’re right, that is a problem, and I should be focusing on it.”

“You should,” Chuck agreed.

“The only one doing unspeakable things to me should be you,” Sarah told him. She watched him break. “I’m sorry. You’re trying to keep me safe, which you don’t need to do, and I know I’m safe here, and I like being with you, watching you…” she gestured towards him. “Do that.”

“I’m going to have a long talk with my bird when I get back,” Chuck muttered under his breath.

“Do you think the bird can help?”

“No,” Chuck admitted. “But at least whatever the bird thinks, it won’t say it and melt my brain.” He held up his hand. “I know, you like melting my brain, but we need to see if we can figure out who is after you and why.”

“Oh, I know why,” Sarah said, and reached into her shirt, pulling out the chain that had the USB on it. “It’s this.”

“What’s that?” Chuck asked.

“It’s classified,” Sarah said. Chuck nodded. “It all started a few weeks ago,” Sarah began. Chuck quickly focused on the story she was telling him instead of the fact that she was telling him classified information.

}o{“Should you have told me all of that?” Chuck asked.

She shrugged. “I’ve decided you have the highest security clearance,” Sarah said. “Sarah clearance.”

Chuck stared at her.

“That's a thing?”

“It is now.”

“What's the highest level?”

Sarah looked at him.

“You.”

His expression softened.

“Sarah…”

“Don't make it weird.”

“I wasn't.”

“You were about to.”

“I was going to say thank you.”

She smiled.

“Then thank you is acceptable.”

He smiled back.

“Sarah clearance.”

“Highest level.”

“I like it.”

“I know.”

“Jesus,” he breathed out. “Do you think I could see that USB?” She reached behind her neck and undid the necklace. “If I can get into it, maybe we can figure out who is after you.”

“Chuck, you’d have to be a computer genius to do that,” Sarah told him.

He got off the bed, went and got his laptop, and opened it. He looked up at her. “So…about that black card….”

}o{

“You cracked it,” she said, staring at the monitor some time later. “You…this is supposed to be heavily encrypted.”

“It is,” Chuck said with a shrug. She stared at him. “I’m just…good.”

She stared at the screen.

Then at Chuck.

Then back at the screen.

“You really did it.”

Chuck shrugged.

“I told you I was good.”

Sarah smiled.

“I know.” He looked at her.

There was something different in her voice this time.

Not teasing.

Pride.

“You're impressed.”

“Very.”

Chuck tried not to smile.

He failed.

Sarah watched him.

“You're adorable when you're proud of yourself and trying not to show it.”

“And you're adorable when you're impressed with me.”

She blinked.

“I’m not adorable. I’m a big bad spy.”

He looked at those gorgeous blue eyes and said, “Yes, yes, you are!” and resumed typing.

Eight-year-old Sarah did some somersaulting on Sarah’s shoulder. She said, “Bartowski, that was smooth.”

“I'm learning.”

“I bet you are,” she said softly. He stopped typing and slowly turned to her. The look she was giving him left no doubt about what she meant.

“You’re making me very sure,” he told her.

“Nope,” she said, shaking her head.

“Okay, so, we need to check the cameras footage against the list of passengers,” Chuck said, going back to the laptop. She put her chin on his shoulder, watching him type. He looked over at her.

“Is this okay?”

“I think I’m going to have to insist you do this every time I work for now on,” he admitted.

“What will your bird think?”

“Oh, he will be very judgmental, but I don’t care,” Chuck told her, going back to the list. “I downloaded the list of passengers and their pictures when I got in earlier.”

“Wait, how is my stuff in here?” Sarah asked.

“I got your picture off the cameras,” Chuck told her. “That’s why it took me more than two minutes. The list of passengers was on a computer that is not connected to the Internet. The cameras use…how much do you care about this?”

“I don’t,” Sarah said honestly. “But I enjoy hearing you talk about it.”

“Well, the cameras are hackable, and I am running the pictures of each of the passengers against the images from the cameras,” Chuck explained. “Then, if there are images on the camera that don’t match, I’m running them against these files on the USB.” The computer made a pinging sound. “And, so far, I’ve found four, wait, five.”

She looked at him. “You know you’re my wheelbarrow, right?”

He looked over at her. “I’m also not mostly dead,” he added.

Sarah smiled.

“You really are my wheelbarrow.”

Chuck looked at her.

“I think that's the strangest romantic compliment I've ever received.”

“It wasn't meant to be romantic.”

“That's somehow worse.”

She laughed softly.

Then her expression changed.

“But it is.”

Chuck waited.

“You make things possible,” she said.

His smile faded into something softer.

“Sarah…”

She touched his hand.

“That's what I meant.”

He squeezed her hand.

“Then I'm happy to be your wheelbarrow.”

She felt something inside stir, composed herself, and said, “I find that very convenient…and inconvenient,” Sarah told him. “Not inconvenient that you’re alive, inconvenient that you are alive and I have to behave.”

“Need to talk to my bird about your definition of behaving,” Chuck muttered. Sarah smiled at him.

She shouldn’t have been surprised. Eight year-old her had been quiet for some time. As usual, when she showed up, she had a quote that rocked Sarah to her core.

Don’t expect too much from life, Buttercup told herself as she rode along. Learn to be satisfied with what you have. 

“When we get back, I will have to show you what misbehaving actually looks like,” Sarah told him. His fingers froze on the keyboard. “And your bird can go fly south for the winter if he doesn’t like it.”

“Seven,” Chuck choked out. “There are seven men trying to…”

“Have their way with me?” Sarah asked. Chuck turned to her, his eyes wide. “And none of them are the man I want to have his way with me.”

Chuck stared at her.

Sarah waited.

“You're still standing,” she observed.

“I-I……..”

“I thought you might need a moment.”

“I may need several.”

Sarah smiled.

“Progress.”

“I'm choosing to see it that way.”

She leaned closer.

“Good choice.”

Chuck swallowed.

“I’m known to stumble upon those occasionally.”

He didn’t pass out. He was more surprised than anyone about that.

}o{

Now

“Outside consultants,” Sarah said. “I am officially no longer a CIA officer.”

Chuck looked at her.

“So we're partners now?”

Sarah nodded.

“Partners.”

He smiled. “I like that.”

“I know.”

“You keep saying that.”

“Because you keep making it obvious.”

He smiled wider.

“I really do love my life.”

Sarah looked at him.

“So do I.”

“Agent,” Graham began.

“Director, I don’t want anyone to have the ability to tell me what to do ever again,” Sarah told him. “Okay,” Graham said, nodding. He turned in his chair to the file beside him.

Sarah leaned over to Chuck. “However you are allowed to make all the suggestions you want,” she told him.

“God, I really, really love my life,” he muttered. Sarah smiled as she leaned back to where she had been previously.

A/N: Angstiest angst that ever angsted.