Chuck brings her around his apartment the other day (his apartment, at least for now, because it may take a while for her to adjust to being married to this strange, nerdy man). She laughs at his decorations of choice, from the weird Indian statue on his living room to the neon pink flamingo that resides on the corner of his kitchen. A strange tingling at the back of her head tells her that this place is familiar, should be familiar, seeing as they've lived in here for almost 2 and a half years. She laughs internally too, unable to process how, in her 2 years of residence at this apartment, that she did not make the wee effort of redecorating the interior.
It doesn't help that Chuck looks at her as if any second, her memory will soon come bursting forth; waiting for that sign of recognition, a smile, a frown, anything beyond the politely blank face she's had on this entire time.
He leads her to the couch while he gets refreshments out of the fridge. She sits, cross-legged, admiring with equal parts awed and unsurprised at all at the sheer amount of gaming systems he has wired to his flat screen. She pats the soft, worn couch with her hand when the memory hits her. Peals of breathless laughter, the warmth of Chuck's body, his palms on her waist, him beneath her and the contrast of his brown curls against the firetruck red of the chair's arm as she lowers her face to meet his. The warmth and softness of his mouth and tongue meeting hers. The memory was so instant, so fleeting that she curls her fingers tighter into the couch, trying to hold on to it.
"You okay?" her attention is broken, averted to the Chuck of now, standing in front of her with two glasses of grape soda on both his hands. A look of concern is etched on his face as he bends down to join her.
"Y-yeah. Fine." He frowns a bit before deciding to let it go. He offers her the glass on his left hand.
"Any ideas on what you're going to do now?" She still couldn't look him in the eye, flustered at the intimacy of the memory she just experienced. Looking down into her glass, she answered.
"I think... I think I'll stick around for a while. Here in Burbank." Chuck couldn't help the smile that blossomed on his face.
"I'd like that."
"But you know, beyond that, I haven't really thought about it yet."
"You know you're always welcome here." Chuck leans closer, and it's only a little uncomfortable when he reaches to brush his fingers against the hand that is still gripping the ends of the couch. Too close, too soon. Her mind reverts back to the memory she recovered just now, and her heart beats faster in excitement, in confusion. He seemed to realize her discomfort a beat later and pulls away with an sheepish, apologetic look on his face. She returns the gesture with a tight smile.
EDIT: So this'll probably be ongoing series of oneshots of Sarah adjusting to her life post-series. I hope I'll be able to continue more on this. But I don't know. My college sched keeps me busy. I'll try my darnest though, if ya'll want me to. :)