A/N: That was a nasty cliffhanger, but I've got an update for you! Thanks for the heinous amount of reviews. You're all great. Also, just to reiterate this again real quick: This is an AU which places our faves in situations that are very different from any other AU I've ever written, so they will be reacting to things differently. This isn't canon. Hopefully, however, I'm managing to preserve the most important elements of Chuck and Sarah especially. I've made a very direct point of it. Thanks for reading.
Disclaimer: I do not own CHUCK. I do not own the characters. I am not making any money by writing and posting this.
Chuck hastened over to the wide open balcony doors and pushed through the curtains, stepping out into the night air and glancing to and fro. He could've sworn he'd shut and locked the doors.
He reached up to scratch his head, then walked to the railing and looked down below.
"I don't understand," he called back to Morgan. His personal assistant stopped at the doors and frowned. "I swear, I shut and locked it earlier when I was meeting Ellie and Devon for brunch."
"Maybe you didn't." Morgan shrugged.
"I did. Of course I did."
"Yeah, but you could've thought to yourself, 'Who would be able to get into my bedroom on the fourth story of the hotel?'"
Chuck frowned. "But I didn't think that to myself. And I shut and locked these doors."
"Devon and Ellie—?"
"—don't have the key to my hotel suite," Chuck interrupted, pushing a hand through his hair. He walked back into the room, brushing past Morgan, and that was when something caught his eye over in the opposite corner of the room.
"Well, then I have no idea how—"
"No!" Chuck barked, his hands on his head as he stared at the safe on the wall, the way it was wedged open…definitely not how he'd left that.
"What?" Morgan asked, twisting his fist in Chuck's sleeve, obviously alarmed by his friend's tone.
"No, no, no," he breathed. But he already knew. "Please tell me she didn't—She couldn't—She wouldn't." But she had. He just knew she had.
"Who wouldn't what? What are you talking about?"
"The safe. My safe. It's open. It's been opened. And I haven't gone into that since yesterday, when I took my mother's charm bracelet out for Ellie to wear to dinner last night. It was shut. I shut it and I covered it up. But she found it and she broke into it."
He hadn't been bereft before, when the Ice Queen stole his mother's bracelet from him, and his wallet. But he was now.
Apparently, the bracelet and wallet weren't enough. She had to take everything he'd kept in his safe, too.
Chuck Bartowski felt utterly betrayed suddenly, like he'd had the rug pulled out from under him. And he felt like such a damn fool. The biggest fool there ever was.
"I'm such a sap. I'm a complete idiot," he breathed, pushing his hands through his hair.
"Was it her?" Morgan seemed to catch on. "You think she broke into your personal safe? How? Did you go nuts enough to give her the combination?"
And there was the anger. It swept over him and crashed down like an unseen wave. "What the hell do you think, I just go around giving away the combination to my safe any time a girl bats her eyelashes at me?" he snapped. "I can't believe she would stoop this low!"
"Uh…we're still talking about the same robber, aren't we? The woman who robbed a jewelry store a few hours ago?"
Morgan had a point, Chuck supposed, but he thought she was above this. He thought they had a better connection than that, that she respected him enough to at least stay out of his suite, out of his private safe.
He crossed the room finally and put his hand on the safe, not opening it just yet. He didn't want to open it and see it empty. It would change everything. And he didn't want it to.
"Well?" Morgan prompted.
Chuck huffed and opened the safe.
And then he just gaped. "…Morgan."
"What? She took it all, didn't she? This is what you get for trusting a criminal, even if she is a cross between Veronica Lake and Gilda. Actually, especially if she's—"
"No. Morgan."
Not only was the money still there, his mother's charm bracelet and his wallet were sitting in the safe, right in the front, dead center. His heart raced as he reached in and pulled the bracelet out.
"Wait. Is that—?"
"It's my mom's bracelet. She broke in to give it back to me. And my wallet." He grabbed the wallet and showed it to him, then put it back distractedly, still staring at the bracelet.
She'd seemed so unmoved by his pleading at the jewelry store, how she'd pinned him to the wall so that she could take it out of his pocket. Her eyes had flashed dangerously as she'd taken it. There'd been mischief in her features, but then he'd also seen just how serious she was. This was her career—stealing things.
And yet, she'd brought this back to him, something that could've gotten her and her colleagues a lot of money, probably more than what they'd stolen from the Chellequin.
Here it was, though, back in his hand.
"I'm…confused," Morgan said.
Chuck just shook his head and glanced over his shoulder at him. "She's wonderful."
His friend just stared at him with his brow furrowed for a while, and then he shook his head and smirked. "Brother, you are sunk."
"Morgan, she's a thief! She robs jewelry stores. She steals from people. This would've brought in a good amount of money for them. And for some reason, she brought it back."
"For some reason…" The bearded fellow snorted. "You know the reason."
"She's wonderful. That's the reason," Chuck murmured, distractedly pushing the door to the safe shut again and clutching the bracelet tightly.
"She has it bad for you." Morgan closed the distance and took the bracelet from Chuck, letting it dangle from his fingers. "Chuck, she chose you over this. That's what's happening here. She had the chance to escape with an extra few hundred thousand American dollars in this here bracelet, and she left it behind. Why?" He threw his arms out wide, dramatically. "For you!"
Chuck shook his head with a laugh, reaching out to snatch the bracelet back and cradle it in his hands again. "No, Morgan. She's just…"
But he didn't know how to finish that thought. Because he didn't know why she'd done it. He didn't altogether understand what she was doing, except that he knew she was better than the Ice Queen misnomer. Criminal or not, she was incredible.
And he found his heart was racing at the thought of her tiptoeing through his bedroom, breaking into his safe, and slipping his belongings inside. She probably thought they'd be safer there than out in the open. She was a thoughtful robber. The most thoughtful robber he'd ever heard of—and certainly the most beautiful. And graceful, elegant, brilliant…most of all, brilliant.
She was brave, too, coming back here just to return the bracelet and his wallet to him. What made her do it? What made her change her mind and take this kind of a risk?
He walked into the other room, hearing Morgan on his heels.
"You're just being your usual self, Chuck. You think you're not charming, but you are." Chuck sent him a flat look over his shoulder. "You always have been. It's why we get along so well. We're both such magnificent charmers."
"All right," he chuckled, shaking his head. "I think you've made your point."
"You've romanced a robber, Chuck. I don't know if I should be afraid of you or not."
"Well, I'm not romancing you any time soon, Morgan, so I think you'll be just fine," he snarked at his friend, setting the bracelet down on the desk pressed up behind the couch. "What do I do with this, though?"
"Did you tell the gendarme about the bracelet being stolen?""Yes. I had to. Ellie had already reported it to them. If I didn't report it, either I'd look like a liar, or Ellie would." He pushed his hands through his hair. "What do I do now?"
"Report it to the gendarme."
"I can't do that!" He spun on his heel and thrust a hand out in front of him. "I tell them I have it after all, they'll suspect I was lying. Or I'll have to tell them she came back to give it to me. They'll figure I…I don't know…"
"That you let her get away."
"Exactly! I'll be arrested."
Morgan stroked his beard. "They wouldn't arrest you. It'd be an international scandal. It would start a war between the United States and France!"
"That's probably an exaggeration."
"No! It isn't! But wait, wait…let's get our heads on straight, here. We'll figure this out. The most important thing is that I'm with you in this no matter what. We'll escape to New Zealand. We can send your enigmatic robber woman a postcard from Dunedin and she and her friends can meet us there."
Chuck ignored the cheeky grin, rolling his eyes and pushing a hand through his hair as he stared thoughtfully at the bracelet. "I can't let them know I have the bracelet again. Maybe I should hide it. Not in the safe, but-but somewhere else."
"Don't do under the mattress. Everyone hides things under the mattress." Chuck just gave him a flat look. "All right, listen. We'll figure something out. I'll make some phone calls, but I think perhaps it's best we ditch this Saint-Tropez jaunt of ours and either go back home or…somewhere else. Far away."
His tall friend wasn't listening, though, staring at the bracelet again, wondering why the robber had given it back. And breaking into the safe without taking anything? Was she teasing him again? Was it some sort of inside joke between them? Impressing him by being able to find the safe to break into it, and then surprising him by not taking anything and instead giving him the bracelet and wallet back? A fire was lit inside of him, but then he also felt almost…unsafe, here. She knew where he lived, she'd managed to find a way to get inside, through a locked door, into a locked safe.
She could get to him and anything he owned, if only she wanted to.
It almost felt like a warning in a way. A reminder.
And she was a criminal. He didn't know if she was capable of violence. Just because she hadn't used violence today, didn't mean she hadn't done it before, that she wouldn't do it if she had to. She was a genius, but perhaps even genius con artists and thieves had to resort to hurting people, even killing people, every so often.
"Morgan, maybe…maybe don't leave…" he said, turning to watch his friend walk to the door.
"What? Why? I have to make some calls, see if we can't get home tomorrow. Perhaps I can book the four of us on a plane to Guam. Guam's nice this time of year."
"No, I mean…I mean, don't leave me here alone. Ellie and Devon are probably asleep and if-if she…"
"She's a world-class robber, Chuck. She'd never come back here again. It's too much of a risk. My expert opinion is that she's long gone. Long, long gone. She's too smart to stay behind for some…rich heir she had a momentary flirtation with." He waved his hand dismissively as he opened the door to the hallway.
"Morgan, two minutes ago you said she sacrificed hundreds of thousand dollars for me, and now it's a momentary flirtation?" he asked, thrusting his hands out.
"Get some sleep, ol' man!"
"What? You kiddin' me? I won't be able to shut my eyes all night! Morgan, don't—"
"I'll keep you updated!"
He sprinted out into the hallway, the door slamming shut behind him nearly catching the tail of his suit jacket. He came back in just as quickly and grabbed his hat from the entry table. "Forgot my hat! Lock the doors!"
He was gone again.
Chuck had seen the panic in his face. What he said about the robber breaking in and possibly coming back had gotten to Morgan. It had spooked him. The romance of the situation was all well and good, exciting even, until there was a chance the scary bad criminal might make a reappearance while he was still here.
"The little coward," he grumbled to himself, under his breath, sticking his hands in his pockets.
He turned to glance over his shoulder and found that the doors leading out to the balcony in this room were open now. He didn't remember opening them, but…Well, maybe Morgan had opened them or something.
Sure, he thought to himself as he hastened over to shut and lock them again, Morgan had opened them. The place had been a bit stuffy from being closed up all day, so his assistant had opened the doors to let the fresh beach air in.
In spite of his best friend being a cowardly little jerk sometimes, he was loyal and thoughtful.
His foot crunched on something then and he frowned, lifting it up and spotting some crushed peonies. There were peonies out on the balcony. He knew this because Ellie had commented on how beautiful the peonies were, and how fresh they were, and…what were they doing in his suite?
Suddenly he heard a soft crackling coming from inside of his room, followed by music—a slow samba.
Chuck froze, still hunched over, his eyes wide. He went cold then as he felt her before he even saw her. And as he looked up, she was standing there in the doorway, leaning against the frame, watching him silently with her arms crossed.
"I thought he'd never leave."
}o{
Chuck gaped.
"Y-You—You—"
"Yes, me." She smiled and he felt numb, still crouched awkwardly. "What are you doing down there?"
"I-I…Flowers." He straightened up and shook his head, pointing at her. "What are you doing here? How'd you get here?"
"A surprisingly sturdy drainpipe, considering how old this hotel is."
"You scaled the building on a drainpipe?!" He felt the blood leave his face.
She pursed her lips thoughtfully. "A combination of drainpipe and balconies, really."
"That's so illegal!"
"So is robbing a jewelry store, and yet…"
He hated that he had to give her that one.
"Were you…hiding in my room this whole time?" he asked then, realization coming over him. That would be bad, very bad. If she'd been there the entire time.
"No." She shrugged.
"Oh." He sagged in relief. He'd said things to Morgan she definitely didn't need to hear. More importantly, he didn't want her hearing what Morgan had said to him.
"I was on the balconies actually. And don't worry, I only heard most of your conversation with your bearded friend." Chuck shut his eyes tightly and buried his face in his hands. He could die. Literally, he thought to himself. Because a potentially dangerous woman had broken into his suite and he was all alone with her. She wouldn't harm him, really, though, would she? Could she?
"At least, the part of it that happened when I wasn't switching balconies and nearly fell and broke my neck. Just barely caught myself." He snapped his head up with wide eyes and he watched as she winced and rubbed her arms just under her armpits. "That's definitely going to bruise."
"Switching…? Don't do that! That's a six or seven foot jump! Are you mad? You could easily fall and die!" he hissed, moving a few steps closer. The thought of her doing things like that made a chill go through him.
"Are you…worried about me?"
What could he really say to that? So he stayed silent instead.
"Why are you here?" he finally asked after a few moments of meeting her gaze.
She looked so good in black. The black sweater that bunched up at her hips and wrists, the black pants and flats, her hair pulled back behind her head in a ponytail that was messy, tendrils poking out around her ears. The tail of her blond hair did a cute flip thing at the end that made him feel warmth rush through his body.
"Did you not want to see me?"
He just bit his lip, an ache going through him. He felt a bit panicked at seeing her here now. Nobody else was here. If he yelled for help, the walls were thick and it was the middle of the night. Everyone was asleep. Who would be able to hear him? She was tall, albeit not as tall as he was, and he could see the definition in her shoulders, arms, and legs, in spite of the long sleeves and pants she wore. She could take him out if she wanted to, he knew. If she couldn't overpower him physically, she'd find a way to do it through mental prowess, she was so damn clever and intelligent. She'd called him wily earlier tonight, but she was the wily one.
She could take the chair right out from under someone and they wouldn't even know it until they looked down and realized they were suddenly sitting on the ground. And by then, she'd be long gone.
It was so attractive.
He was so drawn to her.
He was absolutely mad.
He didn't care.
But then she pushed away from the doorframe and took a step closer to him, and he felt that panic, a tinge of fear. What was she doing here? What did she mean to do to him?
The mischief that had been in her face before was gone. And instead, she fixed him with a long, serious look. "You lied to the gendarme." He didn't respond and she reached up to tuck a blond tendril behind her ear. "About me." He still didn't say anything. "Why?" she finally asked.
"They, um…" He cleared his throat, pulling his shoulders back. "Well, they were talking to me as though they didn't know who I am. Chuck Bartowski, son of war heroes Stephen and Mary Bartowski, and heir to their fortune. Didn't feel like they deserved the truth, what with the tone they were taking."
She twisted her lips to the side in amusement and put her hands on her hips, raising her eyebrows. "That isn't why."
"You know why."
His answer was immediate, his voice deep, a bit raspy. And he couldn't get his heart to stop pounding in his chest.
She dropped her arms to her sides and swallowed, licking her lips. "Maybe. But I don't understand it."
"Neither do I. But it's still here, isn't it? And I can't stop thinking about it. About you." In spite of the nerves, being here alone like this with her. Did she have some kind of weapon hidden on her person? Knives under her sleeves? A gun tucked in the waistband of her pants at her lower back?
"You shouldn't be thinking about me."
"I know that. But it's not that easy."
"Tell me about it."
Oh, boy. He was in trouble. They were both in deep trouble.
"You lied to them," she repeated. "After I stole something that was incredibly important to you. You did whatever you could to keep them from getting information that would help them catch me. I'm just…I'm genuinely confused. Can you blame me?"
"No." He shook his head. "I don't blame you for being confused. I'm a little confused myself. Very confused. But not so much about that. It's mostly just…this. All of it."
"Because I'm a criminal…"
"Because I've never met anyone before who's made me literally feel like I'm standing in the middle of a fire pit, and being in that safe with you felt like that…flames licking at my feet, up my legs, my torso, down my arms, to my head, engulfing me. It's breathtaking. And I don't know what to do about it." He pushed a hand through his hair, to do something with it, touch something, because he so badly wanted to reach out and touch her and he knew he couldn't do that. If he did, they might both catch fire.
"Oh," she breathed, her chest heaving. She ran her hands down her sides and cleared her throat, looking into his eyes. "Is…that why?"
"Yes. Maybe. I don't know. Maybe it's multiple things. Maybe I'm crazy."
"Maybe we both are. You know it's not exactly smart, me popping back in for a chat, considering I'm wanted by the Saint-Tropez gendarme at the moment. And they're most likely going to be keeping an eye on you and your hotel after the stunt you pulled at the station." She raised her eyebrows.
"Stunt? I didn't—"
"I'm sure they're suspicious if you didn't give them any details about my appearance. Except that I'm pretty."
"I said beautiful," he corrected. And he gave her a slow smile. She seemed more pleased by that than she wanted him to see, and she cast her eyes to the side. "And anyway, I gave every appearance of being a cooperative witness."
When she moved in even closer, he felt that panic again. And she must have seen it in his face because she pulled her head back a little and looked him right in the eye. "Are you afraid of me?"
"Can you blame me?" he asked, shivering. He wasn't sure this time if the shiver was from fear or if it was from her being so close. The flames were licking at his toes again, and he thought maybe it was a little of both.
Her smile was slight. "No. No, I suppose I don't. Me being the Ice Queen and all."
"Are you armed right now?" he asked, gulping.
"I'm always armed," she answered with an arched eyebrow.
"How did that just make you so much more attractive to me? I don't understand what's wrong with me."
She bit her lip, seemingly amused. "Careful. You're starting to sound as though you want me against your better judgment."
The way she'd phrased that—God, she'd put it so plainly, so…bluntly. But he did want her. He wanted her ardently. He knew she was teasing him, at least somewhat, but he didn't have it in him to tease back. That damn fire was licking at him and it was unrelenting.
"I do," he breathed, and it sounded so desperate to his ears that he shut his eyes and willed himself to try to have at least some sense of self-preservation. "I consider myself to be an upstanding citizen, on the right side of the law, and you…"
"I steal things," she chirped, but he could tell she was uncomfortable. He could see right through the mask she was attempting to put up. That mischievous, teasing brightness she carried around with her… He could see behind it, under it, and it was making those flames burn hotter.
"But you risked everything to bring mine back. I lied to the gendarme for you—you could say I perjured myself. And you brought back that bracelet when you could've gotten a pretty penny for it, perhaps on the black market."
"Could I?" She made a thoughtful face. "Thank you for telling me. I think I'd like it back, actually—" But she stopped when he reached out and wrapped his fingers around her forearm, holding her tightly but gently at the same time. All she had to do to break his hold was step away from him, but still he held her steadily. "I meant what I said…about your parents. They were heroes. I may have made a career out of crime, but I'm still an American, and that war…" She swallowed thickly. "It was easy to pick a side in that war, even as a kid on the streets. Genocide isn't something I can get behind. And your parents were heroes for trying to put a stop to it. They paid the price. You and your sister did, too. That bracelet belonged to your mother and it belongs to you now and I-I couldn't. I just couldn't."
"Was that really the reason?" he asked, his throat dry. He tucked his thumb under the sleeve of her sweater and stroked her wrist tenderly.
He felt how charge the air was between them as she blinked up at him.
"I couldn't take it from you…Chuck. You're right. We're in trouble. Both of us." He watched her as she gently took her arm out of his grip, pushed her hands through her hair, and let out a long breath, gathering her thoughts. "I was so sure I wasn't going to see you again and I didn't want to leave with you thinking I was…I don't know, less than human."
"So that's what it was," he said, a slow grin stretching over his lips. He ducked his head a little to catch her eye. "You didn't want me to hate you."
"Don't look at me like that. You make it sound so…simple. And it isn't simple."
"No, of course not. Like everything in my life, it's complicated. It's all right, I'm used to it," he said with a crooked smile. "I surround myself with complicated people, so what's one more?"
"Stop it. I'm serious."
"I know," he said softly, stepping in a bit closer, their chests almost touching. He found he wasn't as afraid as he'd been at first. Even if she was armed. Her admission just made him almost certain she wouldn't be using it on him. At least not tonight. "For the record, I told the gendarme you locked me in the washroom away from everyone else to keep me from causing trouble, and I did that because it meant I'd have to answer less questions. And the questions they did ask? Well, for the most part, I lied. And I promise you, I wouldn't have done all of that if I'd seen you as less than human."
She blinked slowly, her face unchanged. He couldn't read her suddenly.
"I've done things. I won't say I'm proud of them, per se, because I'm not. But I'm also not ashamed. I'm not ashamed of who I am or what I do."
"Who are you?" he asked.
She smirked. "Wouldn't you like to know?"
"Yes," he answered passionately. "I think I'd sell my soul for the privilege of getting to know you at this point. I have no idea what to call you and I refuse to call you Ice Queen."
A curious look came over her face then. "Why not? That's what everyone calls me."
"I'm not everyone. I'm the guy that got you to bring back a stolen thing."
She rolled her eyes and snorted. "Please, don't let it go to your head or anything," she said with no small amount of sarcasm. But she was amused, he could see. Quietly amused.
"Because while you definitely have all the elegance, grace, majesty, and raw power," he said that last bit with something of a growl through his teeth, making her eyelids flutter, "befitting a queen, I've not gotten the whole 'ice' thing from you."
"Oh?" she asked, tilting her chin up and meeting his gaze. Her eyes were something else. "What do you get from me?"
He reached up and let his fingertips touch her jaw, oh so gently stroking up to her ear. He let himself feel how soft her skin was as he tucked some of her hair behind her ear, away from her face as he answered her question. "Heat. Raging heat. An absolute inferno. All the way to your eyes that are as blue as the hottest flames."
"Oh," she breathed out. And then she melted towards him. "God save me."
They both moved together at the same time, and she grabbed his face and pulled him in to kiss him hard.
Chuck immediately rounded her torso with his arms and kissed her back. He twisted a fist in the sweater at her upper back and pulled her tight to his front, letting out a soft, wanton whimper as she opened her mouth.
He wanted more. He needed more. He was burning from the inside out and he just had to have so much more, enough that he started stepping towards her, as if they weren't as close as they could physically be. She took a few steps back as he moved forward. And they kept going until her back met with the wall…hard.
She let out a soft squeak, their lips breaking apart. And he panted out a ragged, "God save us both."
He heard her breathless chuckle and then a delicious, "Mmmm" as he dove in to kiss her again.
Chuck dug his hand into her hair at the back of her head, feeling that soft, wavy ponytail against his fingers, and it made him almost dizzy. And when she teased him with her tongue, he groaned, smacking his hand against the wall beside her head with a dull, satisfying thump.
When he felt her fingers drop from his face to his belt, tugging desperately at the leather, Chuck broke the kiss with a gasp, looking down between their bodies. Oh no, he was drowning in trouble. He was drowning in it and he didn't want to come up for air. He didn't need air. What did people need air for anyway?
"I think he's forsaken me," she murmured, her voice shaking.
Who? Who in their right mind would ever forsake this woman? Oh, that's right. She was talking about God.
"Let 'im," he growled with a mischievous grin, and he hunched over to attack her jaw with his lips. She threw her head back and laughed, getting his belt undone and grabbing at his button up, yanking on it to get it out of his pants. He dragged his lips to her neck and began nibbling, earning a sigh and a giggle.
"I'm not a good girl," she gasped out, her fingers tangling in his curly hair.
He slipped his hands under her sweater and gripped her bare midriff, making her whimper. That fire raged to dangerous levels now. "I'm not exactly a good boy…"
She laughed again. "You're making quite the case for yourself in that respect…But you're not exactly a criminal."
He pulled his lips away from her neck and peered down at her. "I'll give you that point. But I argue I'm still not entirely good."
She grabbed him by his shirt then and guided him back towards the door that led into the bedroom. "If I can…find my way into that bedroom…I'd like you to prove it."
He didn't know what it was, but something forced his head to clear, just enough that he stepped back from her and let out a harsh breath. He might be bad, but not bad enough for this very bad idea.
Scrambling around her, dodging her hands grappling for a hold on him, he grabbed the door to the bedroom and swung it shut, turning the key that was in it and pulling it out, slipping it in his back pocket. "I can't. I shouldn't. I mustn't."
All she had to do was put a hand on his chest and he let out an aching whine of desperation, before he pounced at her and began kissing her again, pinning her to the door he'd just locked. She chuckled into the kiss, and pulled back just enough so that their lips were brushing while she panted, "You saw how well sticking something I want in that pocket went for you last time, rich boy…"
He caught her top lip between his teeth and she gasped, her eyes flashing dangerously. He kissed her properly, then broke it and grinned. "I'm not going to be so easy this time."
"Is that why you're kissing me to within an inch of my life?"
"No. I'm quite in control."
He wasn't. He wasn't at all.
"Even if I don't get the key, I'm the best lock picker in the world."
He gave her a dubious look. "Mmmhm, I'm sure you are. But where are you keeping your tools?"
"If you take me into that bedroom, you'll find out."
Chuck felt his entire body tense at that. "W-We…It's madness…This is pure madness."
"Oh, come now. I climbed four stories up the outside of a building instead of using the front door and the elevator, primarily with the idea that I might preserve your reputation."
He snorted. "My reputation. Have you read any of the tabloids about me?"
She hummed, a teasing look on her face. "I haven't but I can guess based on the fact that an inexperienced person doesn't kiss another person the way you just kissed me. None of those women would happen to be infamous jewel robbers, though, hm?"
Narrowing his eyes and shaking his head, he leaned in to kiss her again. "Mmm'no," he mumbled against her lips. When he felt her hand sneak from its place on his back down closer to his pocket, he reached back and grabbed her wrist, quickly pinning it to the door up by her head. "Naughty."
"That's my middle name." She narrowed her eyes back and pecked him on the lips.
But he stepped back again, holding his hands up defensively, letting out a slow, calming breath. Her lips were a little red, her hair disheveled and falling out of the ponytail, her eyes lit with the fire he was feeling. She was everything. She was more than everything.
She was dangerous.
More than dangerous.
"I'm no novice, you aristocrat," she said, standing up straight and fixing her hair daintily. "I don't need a bed. Which means I don't need a bedroom." She smirked.
His jaw fell open and he heard himself make a gravelly, aching sound from deep in his chest. He took a few steps back, away from her, bumping into a small beverage cupboard. He looked down at it.
"Cognac?!" he asked, much too loud, his voice much too high-pitched.
She let out a deep, slow giggle. "You are cute. And why not? Thank you."
The robber took a few steps towards him and he held up a hand, rushing around to the other side of the cupboard and slipping it open to take the cognac out. "No, no. Stay back. I need…some distance. Please. You're…like getting struck by lightning. I get anywhere near you and I feel the electricity."
"I know. Isn't it exciting? I've never felt this before. Not with anyone." But he was glad to see that while she did come closer, she kept a respectable enough distance. God, he wanted to touch her again, feel her lips against his. Instead, he poured their cognac with quaking hands, just barely managing not to spill.
She took one of the small cylindrical classes with a grateful look as he kept one clutched between his fingers. They clinked glasses and she sent him a small smile, taking a sip. "Oh, that's delicious," she hummed, her eyes shutting.
"Sinful, really."
"Is it?"
The way she asked that, her tone, the mischief in her features…
"Stop it," he admonished.
And then he watched her over his cognac as she crossed her arms, not knowing he was staring, and in that moment, she looked young, very young. And thoughtful. Totally unlike the woman he'd seen standing in that shop hours earlier with a gun in her hand. But even so, he knew the threat wasn't gone. He knew she was still dangerous. But it wasn't intimidating for some reason. Not to him.
"You know," he started, and her eyes swept up to meet his, "as grateful as I am to you for bringing that bracelet back to me, and the wallet," he added as an afterthought, "you know you have to take it back with you."
She frowned. "I do not. And I will not."
"You have to," he said. "I need you to. If the gendarme find out that I have it again, after I reported it stolen, they're going to connect the dots and realize I've been in contact with you. Or, at the very least, they'll know you have some sort of…feelings for me. And locking a guy in a washroom for ten minutes while you empty a safe isn't exactly how you form any kind of attachment. They'll suspect I was lying. All of this will unravel. I could be arrested."
"Well, I don't want you arrested. But I'm not taking that bracelet back. It's yours. And I worked so hard to bring it back." She bit her bottom lip and let her eyes slowly drag down his lithe form. "It was worth it, in hindsight."
"You have to take it back."
"I can't."
"You can. You just won't."
She paused thoughtfully. "All right. I can. I just won't."
"Why?"
"I'm not in the habit of taking back gifts."
He boggled at her. "You stole it from me. How's it a gift in any way?"
"The gift is in the way I gave it back to you after stealing it. Keep up, rich boy."
He reached up and pinched the bridge of his nose. "Please?"
"No. If you don't want it, give it to the police."
"That's exactly what I can't do, and you know why!"
Chuck finished his cognac and slammed the glass down on the nearby table. He just happened to spot the bracelet still sitting there, glinting in the lamplight stunningly. He grabbed it and made his way towards the robber as she was distracted, downing the rest of her own drink.
He got one arm around her, causing her to squeak in surprise, and he reached down to slip the bracelet in her pocket. "You're taking it back," he ground out through a clenched jaw, struggling against her.
But she got her hand on his chest and pushed back enough that he couldn't get his fingers near her pocket. "I'm not taking it!"
"Take it!"
They wrestled for control and she was even stronger than he'd feared, even with the small glass clutched in one fist. She was so strong that he felt himself bent over the back of the couch. "Let go of that bracelet," she warned through her teeth.
"I won't. It's yours now. Melt it down. Take it apart. Sell it whole. I don't care, but I don't…want it!" With those last words, he pushed himself up and used his leverage against the back of the couch to flip them both over onto the cushions.
He ended up pinned beneath her, and she pushed her torso up just enough, her bottom half heavy against his, legs trapped tight between his thighs. "This really isn't how I saw this happening," she panted.
He felt desire stir behind his belly button and he pushed against her, calling out in surprise as they both rolled off of the couch onto the floor.
He landed on the bottom and hit his head on the tile with a painful crack. "Ah! Ow…ow…"
She hissed, the fight immediately gone as she slipped one hand under his head and pressed her fingers to the spot where he could already feel a knot forming. "Are you all right?"
"That wasn't pleasant," he groaned, wincing.
She bit her lip, genuine remorse on her face as she gently rubbed the knot he'd just gotten, pulling her fingers away. "It didn't break the skin. No blood. But you're gonna have quite a bump. I'm sorry…"
Chuck just shook his head. "I'll live. But if you're really sorry, you'll take my mother's charm bracelet. Maybe…maybe instead of selling it, you can wear it." He pulled his bottom lip between his teeth and smiled a bit dreamily, loving the way she felt, draped all over him, trying to memorize the sensation. "Not in public, of course. But maybe at night, when you're trying to fall asleep. And you can think of me…"
She let out a quiet giggle. "You're relentless. I like that about you." And then she leaned down to kiss him again. It was too much, though. With her on top of him, their bodies lined up so perfectly, so he pulled his head back quickly. Too quickly. And he hit it again, right in that same spot. "Oh, come o—Really?"
"Are you hurt?" she rushed out, slipping her hand under his head. "…Again? You really need to stop doing that, be a little more careful."
"You be careful."
She just smirked, her eyes shining bright. "Now let's try this again…" She leaned down to try to kiss him one more time.
"I don't know what to do," he rushed out in a quick breath. "Why did you come out from your hiding place? Why'd you have to let me see you again? You could've just snuck out and I would never have seen you again." He felt pitiful, saying that. But God, she'd made everything so complicated now. So difficult.
"Is that what you wanted? To never see me again?"
"God, no. Every last fibre of my being wanted to see you again."
"I know the feeling," she murmured, her thumb stroking along his cheekbone in the best way.
"Why?" he asked again. "Why did you come out here when Morgan left? Instead of sneaking back out of my suite, running away, the way you know you should've?"
She bit her lip, her blue eyes dimming, but not dulling. They just became…softer.
"Chuck…Charles Irving Bartowski." He rolled his eyes and she let out a one-note giggle that was so cute he thought he'd burst. And then she sobered up significantly, her beautiful features still draped in softness. "One of those regular aristocrats or middle class men's daughters looking specifically for a man like you, a regular girl, with a regular life and a regular job, might say it was because she loved you. I'm no regular girl, so I can't say that." She paused, her fingers hovering over his face, and then pure adoration was there. He saw it in her eyes, her brow, her lips. Her fingertips traced his eyebrow, down his temple, and they rested on his lips. "But I do."
His jaw went slack and he gawked up at her, the throbbing in his head totally forgotten. "I can't believe that."
"Why not?"
"Because…" He licked his lips and swallowed. "How old are you?"
She blinked, obviously not expecting that. And then she pressed her lips together. "Eleven."
"Huh?" Chuck furrowed his brow in confusion.
"Oh. Sorry. Eleven is how many years I've really been living. The rest don't count."
He gave her a bit of a stink eye. "And your conscience?"
"Beautifully clear."
"And what about your past?"
A dark look came over her face, but she blinked it away, smirking at him and snuggling further into his warmth. He couldn't help but drape an arm over her lower back, in reassurance or…comfort perhaps. He didn't know if it had the wanted effect. "Not quite as fortunate as I would've wanted it to be…admittedly."
"Your future?" he muttered quietly.
"Doesn't exist," she said with a charming smile. "I live only for the present. And the present…is you."
The double meaning wasn't lost on him and he gasped, playing scandalized. "I beg your pardon!"
"There's no one here, Chuck. Everyone else is asleep. All of the doors are locked. The only person who can get in is already in," she said with quite the self-satisfied little smile, if he did say so himself, "and we have an entire night before us. And if only you ask me, Chuck Bartowski…at dawn, we might have this one shared secret behind us."
He squeezed her hip with the hand he had draped over her. "I wish. If I wasn't afraid, I'd say have your way with me, enigmatic robber woman."
She looked like she might laugh, but then his words must have dawned on her, and he saw a flicker of something he hadn't seen in her eyes before. Had he just hurt her? God no, that wasn't what he wanted to do. That was the last thing he wanted to do.
"You're still afraid of me?" she asked, her voice quiet.
"No. No, no." He reached up with his other hand to cup her face. "Not of you. I mean, I still don't know where you're keeping that weapon you said you're armed with, which is a little terrifying," she got that brightness back in her eyes at that, "but I'm not afraid of you. I'm afraid of…everything else. What might happen if the gendarme find us. If they find the bracelet. If they knew about this. Us."
"There's an us?"
"Were you here for the last…I don't know…I lost track of time and literally everything else when you were kissing me."
She beamed and his whole chest felt full, let alone his heart. "You're so cute."
"Ah." He grinned. "Thank you."
"I'm glad I get to stay here until morning."
Chuck blinked. "What? Excuse me? Did I miss something?"
"No. No, I don't think so."
He waited, but she didn't elaborate. So he cleared his throat, very gently peeling her from her spot on top of him and slowly sitting up with her help. "You aren't staying here tonight. Do you really expect me to sleep with you anywhere near me? I'd be able to feel you even with a locked door between us."
"That's sweet. But I'm afraid you're going to have to make do." She wrinkled her nose.
"No, I think you'll have to…get going. To your hideout. Wherever that may be. Don't tell me, plausible deniability and all that."
"I don't think you understand. The gendarme…they're all out in the streets, looking for me. The last place they'll expect to find me is in your bedroom. It's the only safe place."
"I think Mayor Le Sommer's chateau might be even safer. Why don't you go there instead?"
"The mayor of Saint-Tropez won't be nearly as accommodating as you are. And I really do need as much rest as possible. The chase begins again tomorrow." She shrugged. "And my people have already taken the stash and moved on to another hiding place. We've split up. And we've split the loot, too, until it's safe enough for us to convene in some other city somewhere."
Chuck gulped. "Safe enough to—You can't stay here."
"Oh, but I must. Don't worry, though, tomorrow I'll leave here and take my part of the loot with me."
He was about to respond, but then the last part of what she said dawned on him. "Your loot. I'm sorry. Pardon me. Maybe I didn't hear correctly. You said, quote, 'take my part of the loot with me'. What loot exactly?"
He didn't want to know. God, he didn't want to know. Oh God, oh God…
"Oh. I must've forgotten to tell you."
"Hm?" He leaned in closer. "Forgotten to tell me what?"
"I deposited some stolen jewels with you."
"What?!" He pushed up to his feet, swaying a little. She had to rush to stand so that she could grab him and keep him from falling back to the floor again. After that knock he took on his cranium, getting up that fast had been a bad idea.
"In your safe, actually." She gestured towards his bedroom and he spun to look at the locked door, spinning back to stare at her again. This couldn't be real. She was teasing him. This was all a big game. She liked to play games. "The police will never look in your safe. You're Charles Bartowski, one of the richest men in all of America. What would you want with stolen jewels, right?" She scoffed.
"Y-You mean that…" He shook his head. "The whole Chellequin shop is in my safe? How would you make it even fit?"
He was so confused. He was terrified again, confused, and he just wanted to go to sleep now.
"No, you silly rich man. How would I ever get all of that in that tiny wall safe? Only a few of the diamonds."
He stared at her with wide eyes. And then the panic set in. "Well, get them out of there!"
Chuck scampered towards the bedroom door, fumbling for the key in his pocket, sticking it in the lock and turning it, sprinting to his safe and looking inside.
"Where? Where'd you put them? I don't see any diamonds."
She calmly walked up behind him and put her hands on his shoulders, moving him to the side so that she could reach in and take his wallet out. "In this brown, leather wallet."
She opened the wallet and peered down at it. He was too hysterical over having stolen diamonds in his wallet to notice the way she stroked her thumb over the pocket where he kept the picture of his family. She turned it then and opened the part where he was keeping his American and French coins. There were small—but still quite large—diamonds glittering inside.
"Oh. Oh, this can't—you can't be here with these. These can't be here. Make them go away."
"I can't exactly tell them to leave. You know, they are inanimate objects, after all."
"Stop being adorable and take the diamonds. Take the wallet, too, for all I care. And the bracelet. Just take it all and get out of here."
She frowned. "Chuck, you—"
There was a loud pounding on the door of his suite then. They spun and looked at one another with wide eyes. Chuck dashed past her into the other room and skidded to a halt. "Who—Who is it?"
"It's Thierry from ze front desk, Monsieur! Ze gendarme have come. From zeir headquarters. Zey are waiting in ze lobby for you. Zey would like permission to come up to your suite, Monsieur."
Things had just gone from bad to worse. Much, much worse.
A/N: Much, much, much, much worse. Just a small note: Sarah was so much fun to write in this scene. Cheeky cute AF devil.
Please review! Thanks, folks!
-SC