The Love Boat

A/N: David, why is it called Love Boat if they’re not on the boat yet?

Disclaimer: I don’t own Chuck.

Then, [redacted]

“Okay, Sarah Walker, do you have a plan?” Chuck asked. “Do you need to call someone? Like Q? Wait, are you disavowed?”

“Who is Q?” Sarah asked. “Is that the guy off of space journey?”

Chuck stared at her. He started to open his mouth, and closed it. “I…I don't think. I always assumed Q was for quartermaster in Bond, but then there's the Star Trek Q, which isn't the same Q, obviously, because that's a completely different Q, although technically they're both Qs, but Q was named Q because Gene named it after a friend.”

“Who’s Gene?”

“Gene Roddenberry, created Star Trek,” Chuck said. Sarah just looked at him. “What you called… ‘space journey’,” he reminded her.

Sarah studied him for a moment.

He could apparently turn a simple question into a discussion about three different television shows.

She should have found that annoying.

She didn't.

“Okay, so back to the original question,” Sarah said, trying to steer their conversation.

“There was an original question?” he asked, his mind still reeling from Q, Star Trek, James Bond, a real life CIA agent, and possibly the most beautiful woman he had ever met in his life following him into a bathroom.

Sarah watched him for another second.

He was nervous. He was overwhelmed. He was talking far too much.

And somehow, she already knew that if she needed him to keep talking, he would.

That could be useful.

“Chuck, focus,” she told him. He nodded. She told him everything that was going on, obviously leaving out actual names and places that were redacted.

“We could really use either Q,” he muttered.

She pulled back her chin. “I tell you all that, and you're still focused on the letter guy?”

“What, no,” Chuck answered shaking his head. “I mean, I have a plan. It is a TERRIBLE plan-”

Sarah raised a perfect eyebrow.

“You said you have a plan.”

“I do.”

“You also said it's terrible.”

“Those things aren't mutually exclusive.”

“Chuck, I have people chasing me, right now I will take any plan, especially from someone not in this line of work because the guys chasing me think the same way I do,” Sarah told him.

“Okay,” Chuck said, unconvinced. “So, the way I see it, we need to get you to safety.”

“Yes,” Sarah said.

“I have a cabin on that boat,” Chuck said. “It’s a room for two.” Sarah was silent. “Okay, full transparency, Ellie and Awesome…Ellie is my sister, and Awesome is her husband-”

“Awesome is what someone named their kid?” Sarah asked.

“Oh, no, I call him Awesome, because, well, everything he does is Awesome,”

Sarah stared at him.

“So everyone calls him Awesome?”

“No. Just me.”

“Why?”

“Because he's awesome.”

Chuck explained. “In fact, I can’t prove it, but the song from the Lego Movie, Everything is Awesome is pretty much based on him and I think someone that knew him wrote it, and-”

“Chuck,” she said, cutting him off. She was furious with herself for doing it because she found the whole thing adorable, and she was even more annoyed at herself for just how adorable she found it.

“Right,” he said, nodding. She wanted to grin at his sudden about-face. “So, the cruise is for…those in love and looking for love.” Her face went still. “OHMYGODNOTASWINGERSCRUISENOTASWINGERSCRUISE!”

This. Was. Absurd. And there was no way she could stop herself from laughing. She didn’t mean to. She was a trained CIA agent. She had been tortured, shot at, interrogated, and nearly killed. She should have the ability to stop herself from laughing. She did not. And the more she watched his face go from outright shock over what he thought he was suggesting to watching her laugh and the softening of his face. Apparently, Chuck Bartowski screaming about a swingers' cruise was where her professional discipline ended.

She also noticed something while she was laughing. He wasn’t embarrassed anymore. He was smiling because she was laughing. Sarah had known men who enjoyed being the reason a woman laughed. Chuck seemed to enjoy the fact that she was happy.

The line came to her head. The one she had always carried, even when she pushed the voice of the eight-year-old away. Because this one…this one had stuck with her. This man, the look on his face was from him watching her laugh at him. The men she knew were offended when she would laugh at them or their actions and this one…this one seemed to have nothing but joy over it.

The line ASSAULTED her

“Enough about my beauty.” Buttercup said. “Everybody always talks about how beautiful I am. I’ve got a mind, Westley. Talk about that.”

“That was a pretty special crash out, wasn’t it?” Chuck asked. She nodded, unable to speak, her lips covering her teeth, trying to control her laughter. “Well, then let me give you the best part. My sister booked me a single room on this trip so I might meet someone. Awesome…went behind her and upgraded it to a double so that…if I get lucky…” Chuck trailed off.

“Nothing wrong with that,” Sarah said.

“It is when…well, let’s just say love has been avoiding me like the plague.”

She was one part sad for him, one part happy, and all parts confused. She understood the sad part. She didn't understand the happy part. Why did she care? Why should she care? For her to care…well that would be…

The realization arrived fully formed.

There was only one appropriate response.

Inconceivable

“So, my terrible plan is to get you onto that boat, into my cabin, and then you can disembark and we can get you home,” Chuck told her.“Okay, two problems,” Sarah said. “This is doable, but one, how long is the trip?”

“Fifteen days,” Chuck said, his head down.

“Ooookay,” Sarah said. “Two, I don’t have a ticket.”

“That’s fixable, I just might need your help,” Chuck told her. “If I can get access to their systems…but, can’t you just tell the captain that it’s a CIA emergency?”

She looked at him. No training. No weapons. No backup. No reason whatsoever for him to help her. And he was still trying. “Chuck, you’re the only person that I can trust,” she told him.

Looking back later, she would admit to herself that in this moment, she was done. Finished. Fini. Acabada. Finito. Skonczony. She watched a man…a tall adult nerd…a good man…process her words and then his face turned serious. She saw him thinking and she prayed he didn’t see her swallow. Something…something in her that she was sure didn’t exist…at least…not in a normal way…not in the way the eight year old that still lived inside that wanted that house.

That home.

With a red door, and a white picket fence.

She. Was. Screaming.

“Westley: This is true love — you think this happens every day?”

“Okay,” he said. She was stunned by the calmness that possessed him in this moment. “We are going to have to walk out of here like boyfriend and girlfriend and I am sorry for anything that is going to do to your reputation.”

“Chuck, we’ve been in this bathroom together for fifteen minutes,” Sarah pointed out. “And if anything, you should be lifting my reputation.”

He blinked, like he was processing and what he was coming up with was impossible.

“I don’t think I understand,” Chuck muttered.

“You are helping me in a desperate moment, asking nothing from me in return,” she told him. “If people think I’m with you…well, I have a lot of work to do to prove I’m worthy of you.”

She meant that, she really meant that. She had no idea how much at the time she did.

Now

She smiled, looked over at Chuck and took his hand, her wedding ring flashing on her left hand as she took his hand. She glanced at it. She still had work to do, but he had shown her, she didn’t have to prove herself to anyone.

A/N: I KNOW. They’re STILL not on the boat. The ANGSTTTTTTTTT!