A/N: I described this story to my friend today as: To Catch A Thief but after sniffing too many Sharpies. And I really feel like that's the best way to describe it. Did I sniff Sharpies? No, not lately. But my brain is an incredibly zany place. So...same difference. My point in sharing that is that this story is a 1950s/60s caper spoof. It is ... (drumroll) supposed to be silly. It's supposed to make you laugh. Is it over the top? Yes. Did I do that on purpose? Also yes. Is it because it's fun as all hell and I'm enjoying myself? Um yeah it is. I felt like I need to make that clear because it seems like things are getting a little serious in the reviews, and in my tumblr inbox.

Thanks for the reviews, folks! They feel good.

And while I have you here, read david . carner's work and read halfachance's work. They are both great. Great. Great. Great.

Disclaimer: I don't own Chuck. I don't own the characters. I'm just here to have fun and provide free entertainment for my peoples.


"This is stupid."

"I know, Jay."

"It's foolish and unnecessary," he grumped again.

"I think it's pretty necessary, if only for my own personal amusement."

"Shut up, Carina."

Sarah smirked a little as she watched Zondra and Carina lean over Jay to apply the fake mustache over his mouth. Her team. These three people who probably all had some sort of psychological issues no one had ever diagnosed, masochists sometimes, sociopaths other times…not to mention all of the times she thought they were just outright bizarre.

And yet they were doing all of this for her.

For her happiness.

They saw she was in trouble and all three of them, even Jay, pitched in to help. She just couldn't figure out why they were helping her in this direction instead of helping her by telling her to lose the crush on the near-celebrity Bartowski heir. That was the more logical route, the route that would be the best thing—for her, for their team.

Maybe they recognized her need for there to be one last meeting, one last night. Maybe they thought she might be able to get him out of her system this way, instead of the pining she obviously wasn't doing a good job of hiding from them.

It didn't matter why they were doing it. The fact was they were doing it. And it had all been their idea. She'd been ready to let it all go.

"You really think adding a mustache is going to help him not recognize me?" Jay asked, looking incredibly grouchy about the damn mustache.

"It's a lot more inconspicuous than pasting a giant Santi Claus beard onto your face," Carina said, carefully lining up the mustache and pasting it onto Jay's lip. "And you never took your hat off during the robbery."

"It's a safe bet he was too distracted by our fearless leader over here to notice any of the rest of us," Zondra chimed in, smirking in Sarah's direction. Sarah didn't even bother blushing. It was true. Chuck hadn't exactly been subtle about keeping his eyes on her throughout the entire robbery.

As hot under the collar as it made her, as much as it made her squirm a little, she'd liked it a lot.

"Charles Bartowski, huh?" Jay asked, climbing up from the chair he'd been shoved into so that Carina could apply the mustache. "I just never figured you for a fortune hunter." He winked.

"I never figured myself for a fortune hunter, either. But look at me now." She laughed.

"It's the wrong kinda fortune for my money." He smoothed his hands down his button-up and fixed his suspenders, shrugging into a shoulder holster to look the part of the investigator. "Give me shiny baubles and stacks of American dollars any day over…that look you get in your eyes whenever you think of the trust fund kid."

"Are you ever going to stop calling him a trust fund kid?" she asked.

"No," they all responded at the same time.

She supposed that answered that.

"Oh, come on, Jay-Jay," the redhead drawled, ruffling his tie. "Don't tell me you've never been in loooove."

"I haven't. It ain't for me."

"I think he has and he's just saying he hasn't."

He glared at Zondra for that. "Ain't no point in it for an old grump like me."

"You weren't always an old grump, and on the inside you're all squishy like a cupcake," the brunette said, grinning. "Anyway, you'd never be helping us get Boss her man if you hadn't been in love before. You know it has value."

"She thinks it does," Jay said, crossing his arms to keep Carina from continuing to play with his tie. "Even if I think it don't. And anyway, I can use this opportunity to test the kid's mettle." Sarah didn't like the mischievous look on the team gunman's face.

"Excuse me?" She crossed to stand in front of him. "You won't be testing anyone's mettle. That's not the point of this plan. You are supposed to make him think he's being taken to the gendarme captain's house for questioning. I didn't say anything about testing his mettle."

"You don't wanna know if he's worth all your yennin' over him?" he asked, thrusting his hands out and shrugging.

"He is worth my…yenning," she said. "He's an incredible man and he makes Rock Hudson look like a putz." The hysterical giggle that came from Carina's mouth earned her a hard glare. "Well, we're all allowed our own opinions, anyway." Carina stopped and covered her mouth, glee still in her eyes over her hand, though. "It doesn't matter, though. It's not like I'm calling a priest over here to marry us. It's just…"

"Sex," Zondra said plainly.

This time Sarah did blush. "It's not just that. You know it isn't. For once, there's a man who can actually keep up with me…"

"I mean, that remains to be seen. But I suppose you'll find out tonight." Carina's cackle was interrupted by Sarah throwing a couch pillow at her face. "Hey!"

Sarah caught the pillow as Carina threw it back at her.

"I hate this conversation more than everything," Jay growled. "I'm going."

"No, wait." Sarah rushed to him, hat in one hand, gun in the other. She handed them off to him. "Don't rough him up. I know you might want to but please…don't."

"And if he gets rough with me?"

She diverted her eyes and smiled a little. "He won't. Besides the fact that he's smart and knows that would be foolish—attacking an armed inspector?—he also has a reputation that's important to him, his sister, the family name."

"And yet, he's fooling around with a criminal," Zondra said. "This guy's confusing."

"Isn't he, though?" she asked, beaming. "I like that about him. So much."

"You have some screws loose, Walker," Jay grumbled.

"That's Captain Walker to you," she said, handing him his tan trench coat. "Jay…" She looked him in the eye. "John. I trust you. And be careful. And…thank you. For doing this for me."

He grunted, shrugged, then put the coat on. "Just gimme the car keys."

}o{

"You—He—You—He—But—What? Captain? But you—But he—"

Sarah bit her lip and winced, slowly rising to stand, walking a bit closer, her heels clicking quietly against the floor. "Don't worry, Chuck. I'm still the jewel thief you wrestled with in your suite last night. The captain bit was just that: a bit," she explained, taking pity on him. He just looked so confused and exhausted. And…there was something else about him, but she couldn't put her finger on it yet.

Maybe this gag was a bad idea…

But she had to get him here somehow. She shouldn't have let Carina take point on this. Damn it.

"A bit?" he asked, turning to look at Jay as the man took the mustache off of his face and grunted in amusement. "That was a fake mustache! Oh, fffmmmfff!" He smashed his fingers against his own mouth and drummed them on his lips, shaking his head in frustration.

Sarah shrugged and tilted her head. "Was there any trouble, Jay?"

"No one else was there."

She sighed in relief. That meant Chuck's assistant Morgan hadn't witnessed his "arrest", and neither had his sister or brother-in-law. "Good."

"What kind of—?" Chuck spun to look at her, and he had to take a bit of a step to the side to keep from falling. Jay righted him again with a hand on his arm. Oh. She knew what the something else was now. "Did you have him—? I'm being kidnapped. This was a kidnapping. I'll not stand for this. Do you know who I am?"

Jay flicked his thumb at the heir. "He's been sayin' that a lot."

"What happened to him?"

"Drunk off his backside." He held his hands up in defense as she gave him a look. "Was like that when I got there."

She pulled her claws in a bit.

"Hey. I'm right here. Okay? And I am not drunk off my backside. I'm just…drunk. A little. Mind your own businesses." He turned on his heel again. "And you!" he said, pointing at her with the arm that held an overnight bag, his overcoat hanging over it and almost falling off—Oh, and there it went, slipping onto the floor. "What makes you think you can go around kidnapping people?"

"I figured that was the only way you'd come. If I simply asked, you'd probably have a big, long, sweet speech about how it'd be better to just stop while the iron's hot…"

He blinked. "Isn't it strike while the iron's hot?"

"It is. But I made up stop while the iron's hot, because the iron's definitely hot right now and I could absolutely see you wanting to end this because it's quote, for the best, unquote."

He shook his head, licking his lips. "No, no. See, I wouldn't make up a phrase like that. You got me all wrong, fascinating mystery woman."

"Do I have to be here anymore—?" Jay asked, taking his hat off, but then he looked to the side and a look of absolute amusement came over his face. He even chuckled.

"What?" she asked, following his gaze to see the small table she set up with a tablecloth, two chairs, and a lit candle in the middle. There was also a bottle of wine and two glasses.

"C and Z were on my heels when I ducked outta here to arrest trust fund over here—"

"Hey!"

"And that means that, uh…you did that," he continued, ignoring Chuck's interruption. He seemed tickled pink.

She blushed and switched her weight to her other foot, crossing her arms. "Yeah, I did. And so what?"

He just kept chuckling. "This wasn't discussed at all in our plans, Boss. You romantic."

"Get out of here," she said, crossing the room and pushing him out into the entryway. "Go. Make yourself scarce."

He bowed mockingly, then eyed Chuck, the amusement leaving his face. "Listen, kid. I may not be in the house tonight, but I'll be around. And if you try anythin', I'll personally pluck your eyeballs outta your head and play nine holes with 'em."

Chuck looked stricken for a moment. And then he narrowed his eyes and curled his lip. "My eyes aren't big enough to make playing golf with 'em any fun, so joke's on you, ya fake."

Sarah choked a bit at the look on Jay's face. It was confused and speechless, all at once. She covered her mouth with her hand, pressing her fingers to her lips to keep the laughter in.

Jay just shook his head, his brow furrowed as he tried his hardest to figure out what he was looking at exactly. "Yeah, well…good luck with that," he said, pointing at Chuck as he looked at her. He spun his hat in his hand as he backed towards the front door.

"Good luck with…" Chuck stopped, holding up his finger. "Oh, it's gone. I had a really fantastic comeback but it's gone. Just poof." He scratched the back of his head.

She was positively dying, he was so damn cute.

"Jesus," Jay breathed, shaking his head again. Then he stopped, his hand on the door. "Hey Boss. Just for the record? I gave him a way to keep himself out of the clinker, and it involved throwin' you under." He shrugged. "He didn't take it. Didn't even pause. Just let the opportunity pass. Thought you'd like to know."

He was gone then, the door clicking shut behind him.

Sarah just stared after him, her heart racing. He'd apparently given Chuck a test—a test of his mettle, as it were—and Chuck had passed. With flying colors. Even staring down a police investigator, knowing the potential there was of him being arrested.

Chuck pointed at the door so fast she nearly jumped. "He—! He did that to trap me! He was trying to make me give you up to the police!" He turned his head to look at her, eyes wide. "Or, I suppose, not the police. Because he isn't actually an investigator." He frowned then, worry in his face. "You're sure he isn't an investigator, though? Have you done a background check on that guy? He was very convincing." He licked his lips again. "Though, I'm admittedly not in—I've been drinking."

"Yes, we had that conversation." Warmth spread through her as she reached up to put her hands on his shoulders and pull him back into the room where she'd waited for him for what had felt like all night. "What are you doin', Charles Irving Bartowski? Drinking so much, and alone to boot…"

He frowned deeply, one hand coming up to cup her elbow, and she shivered at even that simple touch, it was so gentle and so intimate all at once. In spite of being drunk, his eyes were still so deliciously golden and tender.

"I drank because I didn't think I'd ever see you again." He scoffed. "The drink's loosened my tongue. I never would've admitted that otherwise. I was trying to be a strong, realistic, sensible…" He gulped. "…pragmatic person. It's for the best, you know, my never seeing her again." Chuck pulled his shoulders back. "It's for the best, ol' sport. We're from two different walks of life. You're an heir in the public eye, she's a jewel thief who could never…" Then he deflated a bit, squeezing her arm. "But then I kept filling up my glass with gin, because no matter how many words I tried to use to feel like your leaving and not coming back was for the best, I felt like garbage. In my insides." He let go of her and pointed to his chest. "Right here."

How did she even respond to that? He was touching her in one spot, where he clutched her elbow, and she melted into his hand, leaning into him so that their chests were pressed together. She found herself nearly bursting as she slid her hand up to stroke his jaw, her thumb swiping over his cheek as she looked into his eyes. "You got smashed because you were sad? About me? About never seeing me again?"

"Yes." He winced. "I just…had this feeling, after the gendarme left last night and I couldn't find you anywhere in my bedroom. I thought that was it. And I—I was all right about it." Chuck huffed and rolled his eyes. "I'm such a liar. I wasn't all right about it. That's why I'm drank. Drunk. I drank and now I'm drunk. I'm a mess, enigmatic robber woman. A complete mess. Why did you do all of this? Why did you kidnap me? Have that scary man test me and then bring me here? Why did you even want to see me again? I'm a complete and utter wreck of a man."

She smiled quietly and slid her arms around his shoulders, hugging him tight, burying her face in his neck and just clinging for at least half a minute or more. She felt him return the embrace eventually and she sighed heavily.

When she pulled back, she smiled a bit harder. "I think you're simply wonderful."

His eyebrows popped. "Right now? I'm a complete idiot at the moment. I've been an idiot through all of this. I mean, what even is this? Do you know? I don't know. I ate dinner with my family and they invited me to go dancing and there is no way in ten thousand years you'd ever get me to go watch my brother-in-law try to do the cha-cha so I said no to that!" She giggled, so charmed by him at the moment, so enthralled by everything about him, that she didn't even know what to do except let him just go and watch it happen. He was so chatty when he was drunk, and it was too adorable.

"They left and Morgan is on a date right now. Probably. Maybe. It depends on how long he was able to keep from saying 'Klaatu barada nikto' to her. And then something about her beauty bringing him back to life." Sarah blinked in confusion. "He thinks it's a great pick-up line, super romantic. And nine times out of ten, it fails." She was so confused. "No, actually I'd bump that down to fourteen times out of fifteen, it fails. It always fails. It's never not failed."

"What?"

"Hm?" He shook himself. "Oh. It's an alien language from The Day the Earth Stood Still. Did you see it?"

"I…don't think so."

"Morgan and I paid to see it fifteen times. Practically have it memorized." Then he cleared his throat and rubbed the back of his neck. "None of this matters. I don't even know what I'm—Oh. Oh, yeah. I had a lot of gin." He swallowed thickly and blinked at her.

"I know." She stroked his face. "You're so cute. I don't know half of what you're saying right now because apparently some of it has been in an alien language, but you really are so cute."

"Th-Thank you?" He furrowed his brow. "The point—and I do have one, somewhere—is that I drank a lot of gin because I was upset. And I was going to…" She started walking him further into the room, towards the table she'd found in the attic and lugged down for this occasion. "I was going to just get absolutely high off gin, fall into bed, sleep, and then tomorrow I'd…" He stopped in the middle of the room and she was forced to stop with him. "Tomorrow I'd…"

"What, Chuck?"

"Well, eat breakfast I suppose."

She giggled.

"You made this table for me," he breathed then, going to it and putting his hand on it.

"Uh…I didn't make it, no. That would've taken me quite some time and I wouldn't know a saw from a screwdriver," she teased.

"You know what I mean," he groused, a pout on his face.

"I do," she giggled. "And, um…yes, I set this up."

"For me?" he asked dreamily.

"Well, I didn't do it for the second coming of Jesus Christ, Chuck."

"Ha!" He turned and grinned at her. "You're so clever. You say genuinely funny things and lovely snappy sharp-witted things and I love your mouth. It's so beautiful when it moves and your voice is so pretty, it's all just…so marvelous. You're marvelous."

She couldn't help how soft he made her feel. But the way he was rambling, spouting a mixture of inane strange things and truly sweet and poetic, beautiful things, made her insides feel like clouds. Or better yet, like satin sheets. "Thank you," she said quietly, biting her cheek to keep from beaming too hard.

Then he distractedly glanced down at his hand that still held the overnight bag and his eyes popped. "I'm still holding my overnight bag. I—Waaaaaaait…" He slowly lifted his eyes to hers, one side of his mouth tilting up. "An overnight bag, ehhhh? I thought I was going to jail, but this is infinitely better."

He tilted towards her, his lips pursed, and she bit her own lip to keep from laughing at him. She wasn't sure he'd appreciate it if she did. So instead, she put her finger on his mouth to stop him and he furrowed his brow in confusion.

"Mhm…that bag's going to end up in the bedroom," she said, purposely speaking slowly, her words dripping from her tongue like honey.

"I know what that meeeaans…"

This time she had to laugh at the goofy look on his face. At least being drunk meant he wasn't as flustered and anti-sex. But as he leaned in again to kiss her, she let him this time. She knew she couldn't let it progress much further than that. Not yet. So she pulled back. "You're lucky I like gin," she said, patting his cheek. "Put your bag down."

"Where's the bedroom?" He looked over his shoulder, then moved towards the door, but she reached out and grabbed his wrist, holding him back.

"We aren't doing that yet. Just set it there," she pointed towards the couch. He gave her a sweetly befuddled look. "I could take you up to the bedroom to put your bag down, but that's a lot of steps for a man in your condition, first of all, and secondly, I'm not sure we'd make it back out again."

He was still befuddled. "But why's that bad? Isn't that why you kidnapped me?"

She blushed. "All right, I don't know what's wrong with you people, but that wasn't the only reason. What sort of a person do you think I am? Some kind of a sex fiend?" He became flustered, trying to walk back his question and she laughed, putting her hands on his chest. "I'm teasing you, rich boy. I don't know what happens tomorrow, but I…think I know what I want tonight. And you aren't wrong about it."

He grinned, excitement lighting his face, and she clasped her hands in front of her face, giggling at how adorably expressive he was, not even bothering to hold back his anticipation. And as he backed towards the couch, she reached out and winced, trying to warn him with a "Chuck", but it was too late. The backs of his knees bumped the table next to the couch.

"Whooaa!"

He flailed, managing to save the lamp from tipping and falling to the floor, but still ending up flat on his back behind the couch, his eyes wide in surprise. As she pressed her fingers to her lips to keep from laughing, she crossed to his side and leaned down to help him up. Her heart melted at the offended look he gave the table, straightening himself out a bit. She finally fixed the collar of his suit jacket for him, as she'd noticed it was twisted when he first slumped in after Jay.

"All right, I'm making coffee. I thought red wine would be nice, but we're not doing that."

"Oh, no. I'm already drunk."

"Yes, I know," she giggled. "Coffee and water."

"I'm not that drunk," Chuck argued as she took his hand and walked him into the kitchen. "I mean, I am drunk but I'm not—"

"Tell that to someone who didn't just see you trip over a table and land on your backside."

"I have news for you, incredible mystery woman! I've done that numerous times while sober."

"Have you had your eyes checked lately?"

He laughed, and spun her back so that she crashed into his side. He slung his arm over her shoulders and pulled her in close. "God, I like you a lot. You know, I think I might even love you and that isn't the gin talking. That's me. All me."

She couldn't resist. She slid her arms up and around his neck, pulling him into a kiss. He clumsily walked towards her, making her gasp into his lips and moving back until she felt herself bump into the kitchen counter. She squeaked and giggled, pulling back a bit, but he just took the opportunity to start nibbling at her jaw. And when his lips dragged to her neck, she felt that delicious stream of desire awaken in her midsection, trickling out to fill the rest of her body.

Sarah put her hands on his shoulders and pushed him back a good foot, taking a deep breath and smirking. "Coffee," she said steadily, looking at him through her eyelashes.

He bit his lip and shut his eyes and then his chin slumped to his chest and he sighed.

"I'm just making sure you're at one hundred percent, Chuck. Even if you are functioning at maybe seventy percent." She slid a hand over the back of his neck and rubbed as he lifted his gaze to hers. "Because if I'm going to proposition you—and I definitely am—you're going to be fully sober for it."

He straightened up, his jaw clenching. "Make that coffee."

Sarah laughed, pulling away and getting the coffee started. He even went so far as to start opening cupboards looking for mugs most likely. But then he opened one before she could tell him where they were and he froze. She knew why immediately.

They'd stashed some of their stolen goods in that cupboard.

Chuck reached in and came away with a necklace—gold chain and large diamond set into the pendant. He just stared at it for a while, and she poured the water into the machine, staring at him. "Did you forget for a moment who I am?" She paused. "What I am?"

"I…did. But you know it doesn't change anything."

"Not tonight it doesn't," she said. "But tomor—"

"Tonight it doesn't matter," he said, cutting her off. He met her gaze from a few feet away, his voice steady, eyes serious. She took the hint. One corner of her mouth tilted up a bit, but she couldn't smile totally. A bit of melancholy had caught her up.

She didn't know what tomorrow would bring. Jay, Carina, and Zondra had bought them one night. Just one night, for now. She turned on the machine and took a deep breath. She was taking advantage of this opportunity. Once she got this man sobered up. Even before she got him sobered up.

Crossing to his side, she opened the next cupboard over to get mugs out.

"Can you hand me one of the water glasses?" he asked. She gave him a curious look but gave him a water glass, which he promptly filled from the sink. "Listen, if we're sobering me up, I'll need plenty of this stuff, too."

She laughed. "Good thinking."

"You wanna know the last time I drank like this?"

Sarah stepped around him to wait by the machine as it brewed their late-night coffee. "Well, considering your reputation, I'd say last week."

He sniffed in amusement. "I wish that was the case. But, uh, I don't get out at night as much as the tabs say I do." She must have looked at him funny because he felt the need to explain, "Morgan—my assistant and best friend—calls the tabloids the, quote, No-Good Dirty Tabs, unquote."

Leaning against the counter with a smirk, she bobbed her eyebrows. "Seems apropos."

"It's perfect, really. And I let them have it, because why not? I wouldn't be the first wild and crazy playboy heir. Or, as your guy likes to say it: trust fund kid." He ruffled his own hair, taking a few long gulps of water. "He ain't wrong," he said, shrugging.

"Maybe he isn't, but you're not…"

"What? A snobbish, entitled ass? I'm not sure everyone would agree with you, there." He grinned. "You know, I'm on vacation. Some might say I'm different when I'm not on vacation."

She eyed him closely. "I'm not sure I believe you. In fact, I know I don't believe you."

"Why?" He moved closer. "I mean how. How would you even know that, Imelda? Joan? Irene? Gwendolyn?"

She giggled and shook her head. "No to all four."

"Quadruple damn."

She laughed. "And I just know, Chuck."

"After two days? You made eyes at me over a craps table, danced with me for a few minutes before disappearing into thin air, then robbed a jewelry store I happened to be in for about fifteen minutes at the most. Then there was all that kissing last night. And that's it. And somehow you know me, know who I am, how I am?" He shook his head. "I don't understand how that's even possible."

"I just know." She bit her lip and then shook her head. "I've learned to trust my gut being in this business for so long. And my gut knows you're…" She shrugged. "You're just a good one, Bartowski. Through and through."

"You don't know that for sure, and yet you're trusting me here, alone, with you. You're letting me see where you're hiding out with your team. All based on what little we've shared over the past few days." He shook his head in awe.

But Sarah twisted her fist in the lapel of his jacket and looked him in his brown eyes. Hard. She leaned up onto her tip toes and stared him down. "We've shared more in the last two days than ninety percent of married couples these days share in a lifetime, and you know it, Chuck Bartowski. You know it. You feel it, too. I know you do." Her throat constricted so she didn't say anything else.

"You're right. We have. And I know this is different, as hard as it is. The kind of different that makes almost anything worth it."

Lord help her but he had an incredible knack for words. She melted, and then shook herself a bit. "Chuck, please don't question this. Don't question me. Yourself. Us. Please don't. We have tonight. Don't waste it with deep questions and second-guessing. Please. Let's use tonight to have fun. Me and you. No jewelry store, jewels, baubles…"

"Oh. Except for these." He went into his pocket retrieved his wallet, opening it and letting the diamonds spill out onto the counter.

Her eyes popped and she chuckled, shaking her head at him with so much affection, not even bothering to disguise it or guard herself. "Drink some more water," she admonished, smirking as he widened his eyes, pressed his lips together, and raised the glass to his mouth to drink. "And please, can we just…enjoy this? We're away from everyone else. Safe."

"All right," he said, setting his glass down with a loud clink. "Fun. Yes." His hands were on her hips then, pulling her in close, and she immediately thought he was going to seduce her right then and there.

And while that was also her idea of fun…

"Whoa there, rich boy…"

"Hm?" He pulled back to look down at her and furrowed his brow quizzically. "O-Oh! No, I…I was just trying to dance with you in the kitchen," he said, pretending to be offended. "I was dancing!" he belted. And then he swayed back and forth with her with less finesse than he had two nights ago.

"Oh!" She laughed. "I misread completely."

"Not completely," he murmured, smoldering. "Dancing is just one or two steps away from…" He paused. "…well."

Sarah understood him completely. "A-ha! An ulterior motive. That's why you want to dance with me."

He threw his head back and laughed, and then he leaned in and pressed their foreheads together, his lips moving in to grace the tip of her nose. It was the sweetest, and dare she think it, most intimate thing anyone had ever done in her entire life. His brow furrowed and he held her in a way that was somehow even more tender than it'd been before.

"No," he breathed. "I really just want to dance with the woman I'm mad about."

And when he took advantage of how hard that rocked her, making her freeze, speechless, starting to dance with her to the bubbling and gurgling of the brewing coffee beside them, she let him pull her in closer. But then she snapped out of it a bit, shaking herself. She didn't move away from him, though, or stop his rhythmless dancing (obviously the gin was doing that).

Instead, she said, "Why don't we go in the other room and I can put a record on? Seems more…appropriate than dancing to the sounds of a coffee machine."

"Oooo!" He stepped back and snapped his fingers, then grabbed her hand to lead the way.

But she stopped him and pulled back, grabbing the pot that finished brewing finally, and poured some into each mug.

"You need to drink some coffee first, though. Seriously."

"Coffee first. Got it. Coffee."

Chuck took a mug and before she could stop him, he burned his mouth and winced, pulling it away. "Ah! S'hot. Ow…oh."

"That's gonna be hot there, sport."

"Mm hmm," he whimpered, pressing his fingers to his lips and making a pitiful face.

She shook her head and grabbed him on either side of his face, leaning up to press a kiss to his cheek. "Fine, we'll dance while the coffee cools, but I don't want you falling over and hitting your head. You got me?"

"I don't got you," he breathed. "But oh how I want to got you. So damn bad it hurts." He winced. "Hence all the gin…"

Sarah bit her lip and took a slow, deep breath, that desire pooling in her center again. "I want you, too. More than anything." He went in for a kiss and she dodged away from it, tugging him through to the living room where the record player and records were. "But first…we dance."

}o{

He was in such trouble.

She had a way of sliding her fingers between his curls at the back of his head and making eye contact at the same time. His body was still buzzing from the alcohol, but his brain was less fuzzy. So while her touch was invigorating and exciting, the eye contact even more so, more than anything, he was trying to come to terms with this situation.

"You had me kidnapped," he murmured after a good half an hour of dancing with his jewel robber.

"Sorry," she breathed, shrugging one shoulder cutely.

"I don't think you are."

"Are you?"

"No," he said, smiling a little.

"I didn't think so," she drawled with a smirk. She readjusted her hand in his and twisted one of his curls around her finger on the hand she had buried in his hair. It made him shiver and she must have felt it because she smirked a bit harder.

"If I'd known I was going to end up here tonight, I wouldn't have had so many martinis." He made a face. "Though they don't really count as martinis, really. I just poured gin into a martini glass over and over and ate a lot of olives. I lost count."

"Of the gin or the olives?"

He looked up at the ceiling thoughtfully. Then nodded. "Yes."

She laughed and he grinned down at her.

Yes, he was in trouble.

The kind of trouble that made him feel like he had jet engine fuel in his veins instead of blood. Even in a quiet moment like this, the music soft and slow, some Benny Goodman record she'd put on, he felt adrenaline pumping through him. Usually, drinking made him drag once he started to sober up. He became tired and lazy, especially if he was all-out drunk.

He didn't know if it was her, or the situation he was in, or both, but he wasn't tired. He wasn't feeling lazy. He wanted to run through the house, kick open the door, and sprint all the way down to the ocean, feel the sand between his toes, the cool water dancing at his ankles.

The record ended with a soft whirrrrr click whirrrr click whirrrr click and they stopped swaying, breaking eye contact finally. She turned to look over her shoulder at the record player. "I should go put on another record, huh?"

"We could both go. Watch."

He wrapped his arm tighter around her waist and hoisted her up against him so that her feet were off the ground. She yelped and giggled as he easily carried her over to the record player, then set her down again.

"Are you thinking more a singer? American standards? Big band? Jazz? Sinatra or Miles Davis?"

"There are only four records," she said, chuckling, a big smile on her face as she peered up at him with those gorgeous blue eyes.

"Ah. So there are." He reached around her, snuggling up against her body as he carefully fixed the needle back into its cradle to stop the player. "It's nice and cool outside," he said. "Can we walk together out there? Or…are you…?" He furrowed his brow, unconsciously tightening his arm around her protectively. "They're looking for you, no doubt. It might not be safe. We should stay in the house, probably."

Her eyes sparkled as she shook her head. "They are looking for a pretty blonde."

"Mhm, and that's you to a tee. Although, you're more of a breathtakingly stunning blonde than a pretty blonde, so maybe you'd be all right."

She grinned. "You're quite the charmer."

"You're easy to be charming about."

Sliding her arms up and around his shoulders, she pulled her bottom lip between her teeth and gave him a slow smile. "Let's go outside. I'll be just fine. They probably think we've left the country by now, or are hiding in an apartment down the hill, another hotel…They'd never expect me to be out and about with a beau." He laughed, in spite of the seriousness of the subject. "What?" she chuckled, furrowing her brow.

"Am I your beau? Or are you trying to call me a fop?"

This time, she laughed. "You could be the richest man on Earth, Charles Bartowski, and I don't think that would even turn you into a fop."

"As it is, I'm pretty rich." He shrugged in faux modesty, earning a giggle. "Preeeetty rich. And I've got a butler."

"A butler?" She gasped, putting a hand on the side of her face in pretend shock. "Be still my beating heart. How can I resist a man with a butler?"

"So then you are telling me that I'm your beau," he reiterated, pressing his forehead to hers.

Her eyes shut for a few moments and the quiet smile on her face dimmed a little before she opened her eyes again. "For tonight."

That stung, and it must have shown on his face because she gave him an apologetic look. "Just tonight?" he asked, after a few moments of inwardly fighting with himself over asking. He didn't think he'd like the answer.

If he got an answer.

And he didn't.

At least, not a verbal one. He just saw a pained look in her eye as she diverted her gaze, and she swallowed hard. And then she nibbled on her bottom lip and pulled him in closer, pushing her face into the lapel of his jacket.

"Let's walk outside. We don't have to go far. Or we can…if we want to," she breathed, clinging.

"Go far…as in…just keep walking, and walking, and walking…and as the sun starts to come up, we just keep walking…and end up in…I don't know, Nice or somewhere? Or we just…disappear, the two of us? Is that what you mean?" He clung back.

"Maybe that's what I mean," she whispered. "We can't."

"I wish we could."

"Fun!" she chirped then, pulling back and putting her hands on either side of his face. She smiled. "We told one another that tonight is about us and having fun. Enjoying the moment. Let's go. I have an idea…"

He let her take his hand and lead him through the house, to the back door that went out onto an unkempt but lovely patio. Chuck noticed as they walked through the yard that there was a small shed or a hut, like a gardener's cottage in the back corner of the property, the light from inside shining out from under the door and the small window. He figured "Inspector Casey", or Jay he supposed, was there… overseeing this operation, perhaps, on hand in case his boss needed him.

"How are you feeling?" she asked him as they reached the back gate.

"Sobering up mighty quick now that I'm in the cold night air. Though we've wasted the coffee you made. I had one sip and it absolutely decimated the inside of my mouth."

She giggled, holding the gate for him to go through first. She followed after him and slid her hand in his as she silently shut the gate again, leading him along the back wall until they found a small, paved path that led into a clump of trees. "I'm sorry about that. I hope it doesn't affect your kissing abilities."

His eyebrows popped up to his hairline. "Oh, trust me, where you're concerned, I could land face-first in a campfire and I'd still try my damnedest to kiss you to within an inch of your life."

"Why you wait to say something like that until we're out where people might see us, I simply don't know. If you'd said that inside, we'd be halfway to my bedroom by now."

Chuck's feet stopped working and he just stood still, pulling her arm back a bit as she spun to face him, a secret look on her face. "Maybe if we hurry, we could go back and…" He shrugged instead of finishing his sentence.

"Oh, we will. Trust me, rich boy. I'm not letting you get away without that happening."

He didn't know how it was possible for one sentence to both make him feel like fire was roaring behind his belly button and make him upset all at once. I'm not letting you get away without…

But she was going to let him get away. And he was letting her get away. Eventually. That was how it had to be. For some damn reason.

It went unsaid but it still felt like a dark cloud hanging over him.

Instead of letting it overtake him, he just followed his enigmatic robber woman further into the trees.

"I've read horror stories that start this way. Being led down a dark path into the trees at night…"

"Are you afraid of me?" she asked, looking at him closely.

"Not a bit." He cleared his throat. "Not like I was when you held a gun on me."

"Sorry about that," she said with a wince. "It's part of the job, to make us look intimidating."

"You don't need a gun to be intimidating. Then again, I found you sexy more than I found you intimidating, and every moment I spend with you makes it that much worse."

"Or better…at least from where I'm standing."

He grinned at her and squeezed her hand.

"I think it's just through here," she murmured, almost to herself. They came to a small fork in the road and she stopped, a thoughtful look on her face. "Oh. I don't remember this. I might be…" She cleared he throat. "Perhaps it's harder to find at night."

"Are you lost?" he asked, surprised.

"No, not lost, just…slightly turned around."

Chuck laughed. "Well, there's nobody else in the whole world I'd rather be lost with than you." She glared. "There's nobody else in the whole world I'd rather be slightly turned around with than you."

"That's better," she giggled. "No, it's all right. I think I know. I remember this rock here."

"I'm impressed. All rocks look the same to me."

She snorted. "That's the richest thing I've heard you say yet."

"That's because you've only known me for two days. Imagine what I'll come up with at two weeks, two months…" He kept his eyes on her face as she kept leading him along the left path of the fork. "Two years. Two decades."

"Getting ahead of yourself there, rich boy," she said quietly.

"It's what I do, sadly." He chewed on his lip, and when she turned to look at him, he beamed cheekily. "I'm afraid I'm too used to getting whatever I want. It's part of who I am."

"No, it isn't," she said, as though she was completely sure she was right, as though she knew him better than anyone else did. "I know that's not true."

He sighed. "It isn't."

She smiled, probably at how easily he conceded. "I know. That's how you should be. Or I suppose how you could be, considering how so many other rich men I've met are."

"Meet a lot of rich men?"

"In my line of work? Of course. But don't worry. None of them got this far."

"How far is this far?" he asked sincerely. "Just so I can have a frame of reference."

"Not quite as far as you're gonna get by the time all this is over."

And then she led him into a clearing as his heart raced so madly he thought it might beat right out of his chest and fall to the floor at their feet. He didn't look anywhere but at her, though, as she stopped them, looking out at…he didn't know what. He only had eyes for her. "Does it have to be over, though?" he asked. "What if it doesn't? What if we don't end it? What if this isn't it? I know we said we weren't talking like this tonight, that we were just going to enjoy the moment…but…"

She turned and looked at him softly, pushing some of the sweet, blond locks that blew in front of her eyes away from her face, tucking it behind her ear. "Chuck, look…" She tilted her head to his right, a kind and adoring softness in her beautiful features.

A little frustrated at her non-answer, he turned to look and he found himself genuinely gasping.

The French Riviera stretched out towards their right down below, the Gulfe de Saint-Tropez to the left. The lights of Sainte-Maxime's homes glittered on the hills, and rolled out towards the sea, ending at the Pointe des Sardinaux. He could see the faint outline of it, in spite of the late night clouds that had rolled in to block most of the moonlight. "I've seen many a beautiful place, being…who I am," he breathed. "I've run off to so many cities with views quite like this, escapes with an oceanic landscape, rolling hills in the other direction…"

"Oh, well I'm sorry I couldn't show you something more beautiful than this," she teased.

He chuckled and turned towards her, noticing how she was hugging herself in the suddenly chilly night air. Without thinking about it, he shrugged his suit jacket off and held it up for her to put her arms in the sleeves. She gave him a grateful look over her shoulder as she pulled it tight around her.

"That wasn't what I was going to say at all. This is the most beautiful place I've ever been." She raised an eyebrow at him. "No, really. It is. But you ruined the full effect of what I was meaning to say by interrupting with your trademark sarcasm." She laughed, teasingly affronted as he smirked and winked. "I was going to say you weren't with me at any of those other places, but you're here now, and…well, now it's the most beautiful place I've ever been."

"Mmm. You're right. It's ruined," she quipped, wrinkling her nose.

He barked out a laugh and tugged her in against him, holding her tight and leaning down to kiss her warmly. Her arms went around his neck and she pulled him in even closer, kissing him harder.

The stayed that way for some time, enjoying the cool breeze and each other. If he wasn't so distracted, Chuck would have noticed the distant rumbling sound. He was distracted—very much so—and that was why he was surprised when he felt something wet smack into his hand. And then another on his hand…then something on his head, his ear…his hand again.

By the time he realized what was happening, a gentle drizzle had started. He reluctantly pulled back and grinned down at her, laughing outright when a large drop splattered on Sarah's cheek. She made a cute, "Eep" sound, twisted he features into an offended look, and gazed up at the sky.

"Oh," she breathed. "Oh, no. I hadn't even thought of the clouds and how quickly they moved in. It's going to rain. We need to go."

He just laughed some more as she grabbed his arm in a strong grip and moved back down the path.

A few minutes later, they emerged from the trees to a downpour, both of them moving fast. One of her heels popped off and she yelped, the other coming off right after. "No!"

"I've got 'em! Keep going!" he yelled. "Go on without me! Go! Gooo!"

She cackled at his dramatics and kept running in her stocking-covered feet as he went back to retrieve first one heel, then the other. He tucked them both under his arm and hurried after her. As he rounded the corner, he saw that she was already standing behind the wrought-iron gate, her hands curled around the bars, just watching him happily as the rain came down.

As he slid to a stop, he felt a rush of gratefulness and happiness, the melancholy from earlier shoved right out of his mind. He wasn't worried about tomorrow, or the days after tomorrow. He wasn't dwelling.

He was looking at the most beautiful woman in the world, he hair darker now that it was wet and clinging to her face and neck, clad in his suit jacket that was much too big for her, the sleeves going just past her knuckles, her blue eyes shining so bright in the darkness as she peered at him from behind the gate. God, that mischievous look on her face, too. Like she wasn't going to let him back in.

Chuck Bartowski was so in love in that moment that he thought he might just fall into a pile of limbs and stay there grinning, blinking up at the heavy rain, like a damn madman.

From where he was standing, the sun was shining all over the place. Something hit him then and he beamed at her.

And out of nowhere, he heard his own voice: "Doodle doo doo doooo dee doodle doo doodle doo dee…" He paused dramatically, about a dozen feet away from the gate. And then he belted, "I'm siiiiiiiingin' in the raaaaaain, just siiiiiiiingin' in the raaaain! What a gloooooorious feeeeeeelin', I'm haaaappy agaaaaiiinnn…" He found a small road sign at the edge of the walk and jumped up onto it, grabbing hold with the hand that wasn't carrying her high heels and hanging off. "I'm laaaughin' at merrrrr la laaaaa I don't know the worrrrds." He heard her laughter. "I ooooonly saw this once—only once—because Ellie made meeeee! Siiiiingin' in the—"

"Chuck! Psst! Chuck stop!"

He opened his eyes and followed her gaze. A gendarme had just turned the corner at the end of the block and was walking towards him. He hopped down off the sign quickly and stuffed her heels down the back of his pants far enough that they wouldn't fall or be seen, and then he cleared his throat and crossed his arms. When he saw Sarah still stood at the gate, he reached out and gave her a gentle push. "Hide," he breathed. "Get out of sight." She was worried as she shook her head. "Go," he hissed. "Trust me."

She looked like it was the last thing on Earth she wanted to do, but she ducked away from the gate, into the shadows. He couldn't see her anymore. And he knew he couldn't follow. He'd already be seen, and if he disappeared into this yard now, the gendarme might wish to investigate the situation. There was too much incriminating evidence—like stolen jewelry, for instance—that would implicate them. And it would all be because of him.

Chuck wasn't letting that happen.

He cleared his throat and tipped his head to the approaching gendarme, dripping wet, hoping the rain, the clouds, and the fact that the nearest streetlamp that was across the way would do enough to disguise him.

"Good evening, Officer," he said, making his American accent more pronounced.

"You are American?" the rather squat gendarme asked.

"Yes…er, oui."

"What are you doing out at zis late hour?" he asked.

"My wife and I were walking…" Dear God, he hoped his robber had gone all the way back inside and hadn't heard that. "We do that late at night when we both can't sleep. Afraid we didn't realize there were clouds. They opened up. We ran. She lost her heels. I made sure she got back to our hotel and ran back out here to find her heels."

It was the best he could do at such short notice. It made it so that he didn't have to hide the high heels, and it gave him an excuse for not having his jacket on him. Of course he gave it to his wife.

The gendarme looked surly for a moment…

And then he broke into a loud, jolly bout of laughter. He leaned over, his hands on his knees, shaking his head, and then he straightened up again and shifted the umbrella to cover Chuck's head as well.

"Zere you are, Monsieur. A moment's…eh, how you say? Respite…from ze rain. My wife wishes she had a husband like you."

"Oh. Haha ha…ha. Yes, well…Thank you…for the…" He gestured up at the umbrella, then reached back and took the heels out, chuckling again. "I'll be headed back now…"

"Of course, Monsieur. Be careful out here. Tourists—Americans especially—are very vulnerable to criminals. Pickpockets…robbers…"

"Ah…yes, thank you," Chuck said, biting his cheek to keep his amusement at bay. "Don't want to run into any robbers. I'll hurry back. Thank you. Merci," he said in the man's own language. And then he moved down the sidewalk towards the front of the house. He couldn't very well use the same back gate while the gendarme was there.

He rushed down the sidewalk, seeing that the gendarme hadn't even stopped to watch him leave, as well as he'd sold his truly terrible story, and then he burst around the corner to the front, grabbing the fence, leaping over it as gracefully as he was capable of, and rushed up the steps onto the porch.

The door opened the moment he got to it and his very own robber stood there, soaked to the bone, her dress clinging, sopping wet, dripping, her feet in muddy stockings, makeup running. The worry was gone, and instead she was grinning like a madwoman as she slung his suit jacket she'd shrugged off at some point over her shoulder jauntily.

He held up her heels. "Cinderella…"

"Prince Charming…"

Chuck found her fingers twisting in the front of his shirt. She yanked him in and he staggered into her. She smashed her lips against his and he distantly heard the door slam.

He rounded her strong body with his arms, fisting the wet fabric of her dress so that she made a breathy whimpering sound against his lips. And as they pulled back for air, he meant to say something about being fully sober now when she spoke first, her voice dripping in need.

"You're wonderful." She kissed him again. "You're so wonderful," she panted against his lips, her words a bit muffled by the kiss. "And so clever…"

"Did you hear all of that?"

"Every last bit of it," she giggled, dropping his jacket and tugging his wet button-up and the undershirt beneath it out of his pants. He felt her cold, damp hands against the bare skin of his torso and he tensed, gasping. "I was ready to grab Jay and come out to rescue you…"

He chuckled and shook his head, kissing her back hungrily. "I believe you," he panted, crushing her body against his.

"I need you."

He groaned inwardly, just managing to bite back an outward one.

"You have me," he rasped as they broke apart for air again.

"Not yet," she murmured, cupping his face, biting her lip, and meeting his gaze, her eyes flashing. "But I will."

His whole body roared to life, fire licking at his ankles, moving higher, climbing up his legs…engulfing his entire form.

She snagged his tie and used it to pull him after her. He just managed to snag his jacket off the floor and let her pull up the stairs, down a long hallway, and into a small bedroom. But the size of the bedroom didn't matter. Nothing in the bedroom mattered except for the bed.

And they stopped beside it, undressing each other. And they laughed together as the frustration of fumbling with wet buttons and zippers and cloth began to bubble over.

As they finally pulled the sheets away and fell into bed, not caring a lick that they were both still soaking wet, Chuck found a voice in his head repeat, This is real. This is real. This is real.

This was real.

Her soft, damp skin against his hands, her strength underneath him, her whimpering voice in his ear.

For the first time in a decade, he was doing more than just seeking a distraction, more than just seeking thrills. He wasn't reaching for something real and meeting with thin air. He'd found something real. He'd reached out and found his hand meeting with a real woman. The most real woman he'd ever met in his entire twenty-seven years of life.

As she threw her weight to the side and he ended up on his back, he peered up at her and held on for dear life.

He wasn't seeking a thrill. He'd found it. Or she'd found him.

This wasn't a distraction.

She wasn't a mere distraction.

She was…purpose.

She was everything. She was everything. She was everything.

And as he moaned, "You're everything" out loud without being able to stop himself, she didn't laugh or giggle or stop. She doubled her efforts and leaned down, her lips at his ear.

"I love you… I love you, Chuck…"


A/N: Doodle doo doo doooo dee doodle doo doodle doo dee... leeeeeeeeeave me a revieeeeeeeew! Just leeeeeeeeave me a revieeeeeeeeeew! What a glooooorious feeeeeelin', I'm (claps)

...gonna keep posting this story, either way, if I'm bein' honest with ya. So. At your leisure I guess. Chuck's the cutest. Okay bye!

-SC