OK, so here's a quick few things.

1. I know it's been an eternity since I've updated. School started, and then things got hard... and then when I did have the time to write, I couldn't think of anything. Poor excuse, but it's all I have. (Sorry!)

2. Basically, if it weren't for Natty, I'd still be staring at one page with a blank look on my face. So a huge thanks to her for helping me and beta-ing.

Disclaimer: I don't own Chuck... or Twilight (mentions of the book and quotes used)

Rating: T

P.S. There's no real dialogue until midway through. I just thought I should mention that.

There is nothing interesting about a white, tiled ceiling, nothing that would appeal to anyone to stare at for a long period of time. However, Sarah Walker found herself doing just that whenever she had the chance (and, of course, when Chuck was unavailable). It was her thinking spot, the area on the bed that so easily molded to her shape. Sarah would stare up from there, opening and closing her eyes, trying to figure out whether she liked the lighter shade of white or the overwhelming darkness. Usually, she would decide on the former, as it was much easier to space out when your eyes were open. And this time that she spent staring at her white, tiled ceiling was for her purpose only, and was no one else's.

This ceiling was her canvas, her thinking place. It was where she could contemplate her next move, think about the past, or, as she found herself doing more and more lately, daydream about what her life could be like. And most of the time, these daydreams centered around a curly haired, brown eyed, sweet talking nerd named Chuck Bartowski.

"Lesson number one of being a spy: Never fall in love."

This had been one of the first things Sarah learned when becoming an agent. The most dangerous situation in the field was emotions taking over one's actions, which of course happened mostly when two people who shouldn't have fallen in love do. She'd experienced this feeling three times. First with Nicholas Moore, in senior year of high school—he was the first guy she met that she didn't feel like a piece of meat next to. Then during the agency, Sarah broke one of the most important rules. She fell in love with her partner, Bryce Larkin. And now Chuck.

It wasn't hard to admit that fact anymore. For a while, Sarah denied this. She was over falling for her partners (or, in this case, assets), done with having her heart broken in the agency. But as the days went by, it became harder and harder to deny the fact that every time she saw his eyes light up at the sight of her, it made her heart melt. And when she heard about the new Intersect being finished, only the thought of a date with Chuck could make her feel better. She was completely ready to admit her feelings for him when he flashed—of all times—and then the Beta Intersect blew up. The look on his face when she told him that he was still the only Intersect could have killed a puppy. Looking over his shoulder she could see a beautiful set up: roses, candles, a small table in the middle of the living room set up… one look told her how hard he must have worked on this.

He was persistent. Ever since that night, Chuck kept trying to get in, making remarks about how they should stop fighting their feelings. Sarah hated to admit it, but it was working. And just as she feared, her work was getting sloppy. One comment from Roan set her off, making it even more obvious that he was right. When Chuck jumped from that building to save her and it was obvious that he was fine, she still ran over and couldn't help but cup his cheeks and trace a line with her thumb along the base of his neck. The fact that he would deliberately risk his life in the hope that she would be saved made her breath hitch in her throat. It was just another reason that she loved him as much as she did. And that kiss… it was even better than the one at the docks because at that time she was bitter and confused, unsure of her feelings. This time, she was ready when he pulled her to him, crushing their bodies together with a stomach rolling, knee weakening kiss. The feeling of his warm tongue on hers as he held her face gently and her hand danced across his skin... If only Roan wasn't in the room, maybe it could have gone longer.

Suddenly snapping out of her dream world, she looked at the clock. 5:42. There was no planning, no missions tonight, which meant that Sarah was going to get into some comfortable clothes and lose herself in her thoughts just like she did in Chuck's brown hazel eyes. She stripped off her clothes—that stupid, revealing Orange Orange outfit, why did she still have it on? —and picked out a tank top and shorts. Sarah was walking to her bed when she passed her closet and couldn't help but reach her hand into the corner and trail her hand along a couple of shirts she'd stolen from Chuck. Often she chastised herself, she was in so deep that she resorted to snagging his clothes? But they smelled so much like him, she couldn't help it, and if she was ever caught, it could be blamed on the fact that he stayed over sometimes to keep up their cover and it was for that.

Oh yes, she was so in love. The thought brought on feelings ranging from anger at being compromised to giddiness at the fact that she was lucky enough to feel this emotion. And these moods could change in seconds when Sarah was alone (sometimes it was hard to control them in public, too). With one push of the button, she was now listening to Jaded by Aerosmith, the first song they realized that they both loved, and she suddenly smiled and let out a squeak of delight. Here, alone, was one of the only places where she could be herself. Her thinking spot would not judge her. Then again, neither would Chuck…

Wow, she was a freaking lovesick puppy, a part of Sarah told herself, and it was getting ridiculous. Staring longer than she needed to, taking any chance she could to touch him, giggling when all he did was smile… it was his smile that killed all attempts of pushing him away. It brightened up his entire face, and Sarah suspected that if she stared at it too long, she'd get disoriented. Thank God for CIA training, she knew that she had to protect him over giving into her emotions. Otherwise, she might have already jumped into his arms, exclaiming her love and planning their marriage.

For the first time, Sarah felt as though her spot on the wall was staring back at her, judging her. You'd really want to marry him? it said accusingly. You'd give up your entire life--the CIA--for him?

It was a thought-provoking question, one that she could not answer. To think of marrying him now was just a childish though, a wish more than thinking it would actually happen. It would take a huge amount of perseverance, courage, and luck to be able to quit and have him free, out in the world. She wasn't normal, not like Jill was. After all, that was a big reason why the whole escapade happened, wasn't it? Sarah couldn't blame him—if their places were switched, she would've taken the safe road down too.

But, she reminded herself, Jill was Fulcrum. Fulcrum and captured. And hearing his speech as he locked Jill in the car, about how he made his decision when she was about to shoot her only sparked two reactions. One was the overwhelming feeling to run over and embrace him, but this was a mission, and Agent Sarah Walker chastised herself for not knowing that a gun had been trained on her.

But where did that put them now? The hand holding at the fountain was a sign—a sign that she hoped meant that he was ready to move ahead in the relationship. After months of him chasing after her, their roles magically switched, and now Sarah knew exactly how it felt to be hopeful, scared, rejected… over and over.

Her eyes slowly drooping, the last thing she remembered doing was thinking, I wonder what Chuck is doing right now and hearing a knock at the door that she was already too far out of that world to realize that it was in fact real.

***

Opening her eyes, Sarah immediately stretched, feeling refreshed. It was still daylight, though the sun was drooping closer towards the horizon, so she guessed that it was sometime in late afternoon. Slowly standing up, still half-asleep, she began making her way to the bathroom to freshen up. That was when she heard the knock. It was a bit forceful, which made her guess that it wasn't the first. Running a hand through her mussed up hair, it was clear that it was Chuck. Not only had she begun to recognize his knock, but who else would be coming randomly to her apartment? He was the only one to have that strange, yet pleasant, habit.

Although she probably looked like some kind of beast, Sarah felt comfortable enough to know that he wouldn't judge her. There was another series of knocks—clearly, he wasn't going to give up—by the time she got to the door and opened it, one hand rubbing her sleepy eye and then helping the other put her hair in a ponytail. "Hi Chuck," she couldn't help but smile sweetly.

He smiled back, but his eyes were curious and filled with worry. "Did I come at a bad time? I mean, I came by earlier but no one answered so I left a note. I just wanted to hang out or something—"

"Chuck, don't worry," Sarah replied in an amused tone, trying to keep him from babbling. "I just fell asleep. Come on in."

Walking in and looking around, as if somehow her apartment had changed since he'd last been there, Chuck raised his right hand, making it clear that he was wondering where to put the pizza and movies. Sarah pointed to a nearby table and watched as he set everything down.

"You always seem to bring food, don't you?"

"I've noticed that you like it," he replied nonchalantly. "Besides, I know for a fact that the term 'a way to a man's heart is through his stomach' doesn't only apply to men."

Ignoring the last remark, she moved onto his previous statement. He noticed that she liked food. He had known that she thought it was sweet for a man to come in and give her what she needed without her asking. And he noticed because he was Chuck.

Sarah looked up at her white, tiled ceiling and gave it a small prayer, playfully considering the fact that it was, well, a wall, and she wasn't big on religion. Chuck's eyes followed hers up, her not knowing until looking back down to meet his eyebrows dancing. "Found God, have you?"

She smacked him playfully. "The pizza…?"

"Vegetarian, no olives." The corner of his mouth began reaching higher and higher, gaining confidence. "Did you really think I would bring something else? Sarah Walker, I think you would physically hurt me if I brought something with olives."

Again she smacked him, this time a little harder.

"I guess you could do a lot worse, considering you're an agent. But seriously, I bring food and movies and I still get hit. Am I really that horrible of a person?"

Sarah leaned in, her breath tickling him in such an intoxicating way that he had to hold his own breath, as to not do something irrational and ruin their good mood. "Chuck Bartowski, you are one of the farthest things from a horrible person."

Though it was just for the instant of her proximity, there was a sudden pain—nervousness but not an altogether unpleasant feeling—in his stomach. However, before he could do anything about it, she walked away, replaced by the general good feeling he got whenever he was around her. He was about to ask which movie she wanted to watch when he spotted the object on her desk. "You're kidding," he muttered.

"What?" she asked curiously, taking a bite from her pizza.

Chuck nudged his head at the book. "And here I was, thinking Sarah Walker could never get sucked into it."

Following his gaze, she raised her eyebrows, ready to defend herself if needed be. "Twilight? It's a good book."

Despite the frown, his eyes twinkled, making it clear that he was teasing. "All I hear about is Ellie talking Twilight, Twilight, Twilight. How perfect this Edward character is here and there and… I'd say she's about ready to replace Devon."

"And how does he handle that?"

Hand rising quickly to cover his eyes, he blushed slightly. "He was kind of amused. Said that if she wanted a vampire, she would get one. Then he kind of dragged her off…"

She couldn't help it; she giggled. "You're living with your engaged sister, what do you think they do in their spare time?"

His face turning scarlet, he replied, "Well, they could keep it to themselves."

"As long as you're living there, it's what you have to deal with." There was a pause in their conversation, before she added, "We'll um… have to talk about that later. So tell me exactly, what do you have against Edward?"

"He's just so perfect, I hear. Now every woman who reads it expects some perfect man to waltz up, just like this Eddie guy—"

"Oh, you did NOT just call him Eddie."

"—and sweep them off their feet."

After contemplating what he said, Sarah's lips turned upward in a half-smile, shy but flirtatious. "Not everyone."

Chuck didn't know whether to gulp, smile, or push her up against the wall and kiss her with as much passion as he could manage, just for that sexy stare. Instead, he managed a weak, "Shall we watch a movie?"

Nodding, Sarah walked over to her bed and sat down against the headboard, patting the spot beside her. She wasn't quite sure what this Charlie Bartlett movie was about, but trusted Chuck's judgment. And although it was a pretty witty and entertaining movie, it was hard to pay attention with her brain screaming at her.

Where were those sudden outbursts coming from? Sarah's agent side immediately attacked at the first open opportunity. WHAT, pray tell, were you thinking? You're going to compromise your cover and get yourself into a huge mess. I won't allow you to screw up your career. First rule, remember? Never. Fall. In. Love.

These thoughts were driven out—even Agent Walker couldn't handle the Bartowski charm—when Chuck wrapped his right arm around her. Unable to do anything but relax into his comforting touch, Sarah felt herself drifting off to sleep again, and this time as she collapsed, it was into the arms of a one Chuck Bartowski.

***

No matter how many times he told himself he loved to watch her sleep, Chuck was never really able to appreciate it unless the event was occurring. And staring down at the blond hair cascading down his and her shoulders, her breath slow and even, he was definitely appreciating it now. The only thing he could complain about—and even that was nothing—was the fact that the ending credits were rolling, and Chuck had no way of turning off the television without waking the beauty in his arms awake. His eyes scanned the shelf beside her bed. Cell phone, alarm clock—cleverly placed so that she could manually turn it off without another knife incident—Twilight, and… there! A remote. He clicked the buttons, and the room was cascaded into darkness.

Uh…. Groping around, he finally found the lamp switch and turned it on, quickly making sure that it didn't wake up the light sleeper. He sighed. So what now? He couldn't move, but it didn't look like Sarah was planning on waking up anytime soon. Plus, he really didn't mind watching her. He eyed the book on the table. Was it worth it? It wasn't like he was getting sucked in, just, there was nothing else to do. And he for sure wasn't going to read it straight through it. No, Chuck decided. He would pick up this so-called Twilight and flip to a random page.

***

He was about fifty pages into the book when he heard her stir and immediately lowered the book below his side of the bed. It was a good read but obviously meant to please the female mind and he was not about to get caught with that. Looking over, it appeared that she was still sleeping, but her body was convulsing, a pained expression on her face. Chuck was still debating what to do when her thrashing caused her nails to accidentally scratch across his cheek. He couldn't help it.

"Jesus, Sarah! You've got the nails of a freaking lion!"

She instantly awoke, her eyes flying open in fear. Realizing their predicament, she muttered a, "Sorry" and closed her eyes against him, taking a deep breath. Then she said something so softly, had he not understood it, Chuck almost wouldn't have known it was real.

"'And so the lion fell in love with the lamb.'"

Instead of debating whether or not to respond, he let it slip. "'What a stupid lamb.'"

Sarah stopped and peered at him, wide eyed. He raised the book, along with his eyebrow, as an explanation. Thoughts of her dream flew out the window and she looked at him in absolute adoration before delivering the next line. "'What a sick, masochistic lion.'"

"I don't think the lion is sick or masochistic at all," he said softly. She grinned at him and he smiled back. The smile turned into a stare, and all sense of time crept away. They stared longingly, and it was no surprise when they both began to slowly lean forward. It became too long for Sarah, as she closed her eyes and she collided her lips with his.

His reaction was as instant as the jolt of electricity he felt, and he dropped the book while flipping over in a crouch so that his weight did not rest on her. Hands met bodies and tongue met tongue; Sarah's fury met Chuck's patience and their kissing took a turn for slowness, passion, taking the time to study the other's reactions. Sarah became putty in his hands when lips ravished neck, and Chuck would instantly melt at the moment her fingers glided through his hair. These facts were put aside for later use—for surely this must happen again or it was defying fate—but at the moment, both were almost too busy to even acknowledge those facts. When Sarah's thumbs brushed against his arms and sent them crashing down, their breaths hitched as his full body weight rested on hers. It was as if releasing a lion from its cage and immediately hands became furious, and breaths became rough and uneven. Sighs became moans, they'd never felt things quite like this, and it looked as if there was no ending in sight but when Sarah's hands flicked off the top button of Chuck's shirt, he suddenly stopped but not yet removing his mouth from hers. He smiled into the kiss and began to rise, brushing her soft lips with his own one more time.

The two separated, giving each other shy smiles. When breathing patterns finally returned to normal speed, Chuck rose into a sitting position (and unceremoniously hit his head against the headboard in the process), quickly followed by Sarah. By now it was dark outside, and the clock read 10:37.

"Should I…?" he asked, nodding his head toward the door with a guilty look on his face.

"Nuh-uh, you're staying here tonight."

"Clothes?"

"Closet."

His eyebrows rose with a smile but he was silent as he rose to go change, leaving Sarah alone in her bed. Her eyes drifted up, and her white ceiling stared back. Oh please, she thought, having the need to defend herself against her other personality. You would've done the same thing.

It was true. There was no part of Sarah left that could keep herself away from Chuck. What was it about him that snuck under people's skin and stuck there? The deep brown eyes that could so easily hold her gaze? The aura of sweet innocence (or, seeming innocence) that surrounded him? Or maybe it was his persistence and charming smile… but no, it was everything. Everything that Chuck Bartowski did seemed to be the right thing, and he always seemed to fix the petty mistakes or apologize for anything that could have hurt her feelings. She'd never really had someone like that. He really was a little lamb, and she was the lion sent to protect him.

Still caught up in her dreaming, Sarah didn't notice Chuck's approach until he wrapped his arm around her and allowed her to close in, sticking a leg between his to intertwine them as much as possible. She snuggled in, muttering a quick thank you to her wall, her alter ego, and relaxed into his touch.

As a late Christmas present, I could go for a review ;)

For the quote, it's probably better if you had read Twilight, so sorry if you didn't. I didn't have anyone who hadn't read it's opinion before posting.