A/N: So one year ago today I joined the wonderful and oftentimes addictive world of FF. Thank you all for your support over the past year. I wouldn't be writing if it weren't for folks like you, it's been quite the journey.
There are two parts to this story. If you want to know when the second part will be posted, please ask mxpw. He promised me TWO stories and I am (im)patiently waiting for them.
Chuck vs the Holidays
Synopsis: A "Then and Now" offshoot that continues from the events of "Lil Bo Peep". The Bartowski household celebrates the season. Fluff included.
Disclaimer: I don't own Chuck.
Part A:
Sarah props her elbow on the pillow and peers at the sleeping form currently occupying the vast majority of the small bed. Idly she wraps her finger around a stray curl of dark brown hair and then tucks it carefully to the side. It seems to defeat the point since she knows the curls will return to their wayward selves the second she turns her back on them.
"Rise and shine," she announces in a sing-song voice. The notion causes the sleeping babe to wrinkle her nose in revulsion.
"Come on, Chuck," she coaxes, gently tickling the little girl on the belly. "Open your eyes."
Sarah pushes back wisps of downy curls as she plants a kiss squarely on the little girl's forehead. Charlotte groans and attempts to burrow deeper into the blankets but unlike her father, Sarah has the size advantage this time around.
"Oh no you don't!" she warns, assaulting her with another kiss.
Charlotte whines and seeing as she has no choice, finally opens her eyes to the breaking dawn. Sarah's greeted by a pair of sleepy baby blues, not altogether different from her very own.
"Mmm…" Charlotte sighs, stretching out her limbs as she pats Sarah's cheek.
"Morning, baby," she greets.
"Morning, Momma," the babe chirrups back.
"Did you sleep well?"
Charlotte yawns as an answer, showing off an impressive collection of pearly baby teeth. "Yes." She yawns again. "Momma? Can I have pop-stickles for breakfast?"
Sarah smiles. "Nice try."
Charlotte purses her lips. "How about pop-sicles?"
"No." Sarah taps her daughter's button-nose, causing her to smirk. "No pop-sticks, pop-stickles, or popsicles." It would seem her daughter's vocabulary consisted solely of synonyms for ice-cream.
"Anything else?"
Charlotte thought hard making her brows furrow in a way that reminded Sarah all too well of someone else she knew.
"What if it doesn't have a stick?"
Sarah kisses the babe again on the forehead. "No. You can have either oatmeal or milk and a cookie."
Charlotte frowns. "How about cake?"
Sarah rolls her eyes. She doesn't know why she subjects herself to this every morning; why she still holds onto the hope that one of these mornings her little girl will ask for something appropriate for breakfast.
"No, Chuck." She sits off the bed and gives her a pat. "Come on, get dressed for school."
Sarah's just wrangled the little girl out of her big girl bed when her cell-phone rings. Charlotte tugs on an errant curl as she toddles to the dresser and pulls out the bottom drawer.
Sarah sneaks a glance at the caller ID and frowns. Walking over, she kneels down by her daughter's side.
"Can you pick something out and ask Daddy to help you?"
Charlotte nods distractedly, all her attention challenged by the endless possibilities in the bottom dresser.
"Good girl." Sarah gives her a quick peck on the cheek and leaves the room to take the call.
The house is eerily quiet as Chuck sits in the kitchen, scanning the headlines with a cup hot of coffee and half a piece of toast. After babysitting for a week while his sister and her husband were out of state for a conference, he didn't think he'd ever get to sit down for a morning meal much less read the paper.
Not that they didn't have their hands full either. Now that it was just Charlotte, they'd have to be extra vigilant to spot the mischief. No more shredding magazines and unwinding toilet paper by the rolls; no, that would be too easy. It's back to uncovering stashes of chocolate bars underneath the guest bed and flipping through old comics only to find certain pages colorfully restored.
She was, if nothing else, too clever for her own good.
Chuck hears the familiar toddling gait he's accustomed himself to listening for every morning. Without her cousin, the pace is less like a hundred-meter dash and more befitting a hibernating bear woken too soon.
Added with the slow, sleepy gait is a certain jingling chime that's become more and more of a fixture around the house. Putting down the paper, he's greeted by the sight of a lamb all bundled in fleece standing in the kitchen.
Two pudgy human hands peek out from the sleeves and from behind the floppy ears and the beaded button-eyes appears a cherubian face.
"Piglet!" Chuck greets, unable to hide his amusement. "Is that what you are wearing to school?"
Charlotte nods enthusiastically, readjusting the hood. "Momma let me pick!" she declares.
Chuck's dubious of the claim but he lets it go. "Okay," he says, walking over to his daughter. He gets down on his knees and helps readjust the costume so the zipper will pull all the way up. "Wouldn't want you to look eviscerated now would we?" he asks, straightening the collar to hide any remnant of her pyjamas from sight.
Sarah wouldn't be pleased to see that Charlotte was going to school in her bedclothes, though with the costume it's hard to say which layer she'll disapprove of more.
"What did you pick for breakfast?" Chuck asks, scooping her up into his arms.
"Pop-stickles," she informs with an utterly straight face.
Chuck laughs. "Nice try," he says, making his daughter pout. He takes the collar sewn into her coat and gives the bell a playful ring. "The costume I'm going to let slide, but even Daddy's not going to fall for that one."
"Can I have cake?" she asks.
Chuck shakes his head. "No cake," he informs as they head for the fridge. "Cake doesn't go well with lambs or piglets or even big girls."
Charlotte pouts again and even when he nuzzles her nose with his, she's reluctant to smile.
"Can I have a cookie?" she asks, in a voice so woeful it nearly sounds like an authentic bleat.
"Of course you can have a cookie," Chuck says, his heart melting at the sight. "You can have two in fact."
Charlotte smiles and the mischievous sparkle he loves and fears in equal measure returns to her baby blues. "Can I have milk?"
"Of course you can have milk," he says. "You can have as much as you want. You know that."
"Can I have chocolate milk?"
Chuck hesitates.
"Pwease?" she asks and for a second, Chuck swears the babe's only tripped on the word to pull on his heartstrings.
"Okay," he relents.
Charlotte squeals with delight. "Can I have a chocolate cookie?"
It's a slippery slope and Chuck's already lost his footing. "Okay," he relents as he sets her down in the high-chair. Charlotte giggles and leans back, gifting him with an especially wide smile.
Chuck heads for the fridge and somehow, he senses that despite all his efforts, Charlotte's still gotten exactly what she's wanted all along.
Sarah walks into the kitchen after a rather lengthy phone call she would have preferred to avoid. It threatens to spell the start of a dreary Friday but then she's greeted by the sight of a stuffed lamb sitting in the high-chair and all her worries melt away.
Chuck looks at her and then quickly looks away, guilt written all over his face. Their daughter raises her chin up high, and only then can she see that loveable face over the pink-button nose, beaded eyes and curly white fleece.
"Hi, Momma," she greets. There's a ring of chocolate crumbs all around her lips like someone's taken a confectionary lipstick to them and chocolate on her bib, on the high-chair tray, in her sippy-cup…just everywhere.
Sarah stares at them, at a loss for words.
"I don't even know where to begin," she says, and that's the truth.
"You let her pick out her outfit for school," Chuck defends.
"Me?" Sarah gives Charlotte an accusatory glance and the little girl grins so wide her eyes squeeze shut. "I told her to pick something out but you were the one to zip her into it."
"Actually she did it herself," Chuck informs proudly.
Sarah smiles, for a moment forgetting the bigger picture. "Really?" She walks over to Charlotte to shower her with praise. "Oh that's wonderful! You're getting to be such a big girl!"
Sarah plants a big wet kiss on her cheeks.
"And I'll bet you straightened your pyjamas and tucked them under so nicely too, hmm?" she asks, quickly spotting the red-undershirt.
"Hmm?" Charlotte mimes, her cheeks bulging with chocolate.
Sarah laughs and tugs her chipmunk cheeks affectionately. "But seriously, Chuck, we have to hide this thing better," she says, subtly gesturing to the costume.
Charlotte catches on though and pouts at the not-so-secret plan.
Chuck hides his face behind the newspaper. "I'm not getting involved," he says.
Sarah rolls her eyes and snatches the paper away. "So there's been a change of plans. I said I'd do a favor for a colleague. It'll only be for an afternoon and I'm only going to sub-in."
"Okay." Her husband nods complacently. "Why do you look so worried?"
"Well of course I'm worried. You have to sub-in for me and chaperone Chuck and twenty toddlers who probably had the same kind of breakfast she just did."
Chuck takes a deep breath. That did sound a little worrisome.
Sarah walks over and runs her fingers through his thick curls, effectively mussing what he's probably spent half an hour trying to tame. "You'll be okay?" she asks.
He shrugs and smiles up at her. "It'll be good practice for us in the future."
"Ha ha," she deadpans. She loved her husband unconditionally but they were definitely not going to have twenty children. "Okay, I have to go." She leans down and gives him a kiss.
"And Chuck?" Two heads look up from the dining table. "Please don't let our child go to school as the sacrificial lamb."