Song: "Parachute," by Train.
A/N: Okay, well, I wanted to try something a bit different for this chapter, so it morphed into a five times fic, except now it's Seven Times Chuck Bartowski Gives Sarah Walker Flowers. This is really nothing but a bit of fluff, lol, and I apparently can't stay away from the number seven. There's also a tiny homage to Our Mutual Friend hidden in here. Bonus points to anyone who can spot it!
This was going to be a Happy Premiere Day present, but I wasn't sure if I'd get a chance to post it before tomorrow evening, when I figured all of you would be watching the new episodes anyway. So happy early premiere, and yay for a new season! :D
As usual, thanks to BillatWork for the beta!
The morning after he gets the Intersect out of his head, and she agrees to leave the CIA for him, he makes sure she wakes up to a vase of gardenias on the bedside table.
He wakes up beside her as well, the feel of her in his arms, the scent of her mingled with fresh flowers in his lungs.
And, his eyes still closed against the warm sunlight, he smiles, because he's never experienced a better morning.
I wanna take you with me
To life with no more yesterdays
We can start again awake and so excited
And change the way we always push
We always push
Chuck Bartowski has a grin on his face and a messenger bag around his shoulder as he strolls down the hallway and raps cheerfully on the green door of his fiance's apartment.
She doesn't answer right away, which he expects. Ever since he teased her about always knowing when he was coming, she lets him knock and stew outside for a few minutes.
But she always placates him with a kiss.
He leans a hand against the door frame, and she opens the door a moment later.
"Hey," Sarah greets brightly, grabbing onto his collar and pulling him down for a lingering kiss.
He groans happily, stumbles slightly as she drags him into the room. She tastes of cinnamon and chai tea, and he finds himself smiling against her lips.
"Hey, yourself," he murmurs back, his voice husky.
She laughs and, keeping her hands in his, takes a step back. He can feel her engagement ring pressing against his fingers, the warm metal reassuring. She lifts her eyebrows and swings her hips, a silent query regarding her outfit.
Chuck runs his eyes over the blue top with the little buttons, the tight black jeans, the high black boots. "I approve," he chuckles. He raises his eyebrows in a matching expression and asks, "My turn?"
He swallows a bit nervously as she slides her gaze over his outfit – a dark blue button-down, nice jeans, his normal black converses. Sarah finally gives him the nod of approval and leans up for another kiss.
"Very dapper, Mr. Bartowski," she smiles. Resettling onto her feet, she straightens his collar. "So, what do you have planned for tonight?"
He shrugs. "I was thinking our classic: hit up the movie theater and take a stroll on the pier?"
Swinging his arm, she replies, "Sounds amazing. I do have one question, though."
"What's that?"
"Do you think we'll be doing the same thing for our dates even after we get married? Ten years down the road?"
He purses his lips, pretending to think, then hooks his arms around her waist and drags her against him. "I promise to come up with a new routine by then."
She laughs, pecking him on the lips. "Thanks, hon."
"Can I ask you a question now?"
Sarah slides against him as they make their way out the door. "Shoot."
"Why are you still living here?"
Sarah stops them in their tracks in the middle of the hallway, leans a hand against his chest. "Chuck, believe me, I love waking up next to you, but we're going to have the rest of our lives for that. Living apart until the wedding is just something that I want to do, especially since it's one of the only normal things I'll get to do. You understand, right?"
"Yeah," he smiles, rubbing her arm. "But it's a good thing our engagement's so short. You'd drive a guy crazy if you insisted on waiting for years."
"You have to admit," Sarah says as they stop in front of the elevator and she presses the 'down' button, "after waiting nearly four years to really be together, another few weeks to get married is nothing."
Chuck laughs and spins her toward him. "Why do I have the feeling that you're going to win all our arguments?"
She latches her arms about his neck, teasing his hair with her thumbs, and grins wickedly. "Mmm, maybe because I am?"
"Very funny. Oh, hey!" he exclaims, rifling through his messenger bag. "I almost forgot."
Regarding him suspiciously, Sarah retreats a step as he pulls an object out of his bag. Gallantly, he hands her a bouquet of chocolate flowers, thankfully not melted from the time they've spent in his bag.
A gleeful gasp escapes her lips as she scoops up the delicacies. "How'd you know?"
"Please," he grins cockily, wrapping his lanky arms around her waist and moving in for a kiss. "I always know." I'll open up and be your parachute
And I'll never let you down
So open up and be my human angel
And we'll only hit the ground
Running
Hearing the front door open as his wife returns from work, Chuck hastily lights the second candle on the dining room table. A tiny thread of smoke curls toward the ceiling as he waves out the match. He puts on his best innocent look and stands next to the table, which is covered with a deep red tablecloth and a completely home cooked meal.
Well, not completely home cooked. Ellie's never made pierogies, so he had to turn to Mrs. T for those. But he did cook them. Honestly.
"Chuck?" he hears from the threshold. "Sweetie? Are you home?"
Her voice trails off, and he grins to himself. She's found them.
But then his eyebrows narrow and his heart rate starts to increase when she doesn't immediately appear in the dining room, metaphorically jumping for joy. What if she doesn't like it?
But then Sarah appears from the hallway, a suspicious look dancing in her radiant blue eyes. She's dressed in a casual, charcoal detective suit with a cranberry button-down (he loves that color on her). Having shed her heels by the front door, though, she's clad in only her socks, bright green ones with mooing cows on them – a gift from Ellie.
Chuck smiles at her in the hopes of winning her over. "Surprise?" he says weakly.
Her gaze sweeps over the set-up – the table, the dinner, the candles, the stereo in the corner (from whence drift the low tones of Arcade Fire), and finally back down to the trail of rose petals on the floor.
She lifts an eyebrow. "Really, Chuck? Rose petals?"
He deflates, blows out the candles, and begins to gather the silverware of the nearest place setting. "Well, fine," he says. "It should only take me half-an-hour to get this all cleaned up, and I'm sure Morgan will appreciate all the time I took cooking this."
He's too wrapped up in feeling hurt that he doesn't notice how close she is now. But he feels it when she grabs his lapel and pulls him down toward her, their mouths melding together fiercely. She's teasing him, like she likes to do so often, but right now, with her tongue dancing over his and the taste of cinnamon assaulting him, he doesn't particularly care.
Sarah breaks away with a chuckle. "But seriously, rose petals?" The way she runs her hands over his chest, though, lets him know that she likes the surprise. Most of it, anyway.
"Okay," he admits sheepishly, "maybe I went a bit overboard."
Looking down at the strewn petals, she notes, "They don't end here."
"Ah," he says, holding up a finger in explanation, "that's because the next stop is the bathroom, where I will treat you to a luxury bubble bath and massage."
She leans closer. "And then the bedroom?" she purrs.
He swallows and takes a hesitant step backward, slightly alarmed by the predatory look in her eye. "Yep," he squeaks, "then there."
"You know," she begins innocently enough, "I do need to change out of this suit."
Sometimes his wife can be a scary, scary woman when she wants something. But then again, she can be very giving as well . . .
"And?" he prompts.
She smiles, taking his hand and dragging him out into the hall. "Aaand this can wait."
"But the food'll get cold." he says in feeble protestation.
Sarah plants a soft kiss on his neck, right below his jaw, and hooks her forefingers into the belt loops of his jeans. "Chuck," she hums, "that's what our microwave's for. Now, are you going to help me unwind from work, or am I going to have to convince you?"
A grin springs to Chuck's face as he follows his wife down the hallway, their hands latched together, Sarah walking backwards as she guides him.
"Depends," he tells her with a shrug.
"Oh, really?" she laughs. "On what?"
"Are these going to be aggressive negotiations?"
Sarah's eyes sparkle mischievously. "Well, you know me. I have ways of making you cooperate."
And when the world gets sharp and tries to cut you down to size
And makes you feel like giving in
Oh, I will stay, I will rain, I will wash the words and pain away
And I will chase away the way we push
The way we pull
You're beautiful
The house is silent as Chuck walks through the front door, shucks his converses, and sets down the bags in his hands. He heads to the bedroom first, but she's not there. All he finds is her gun and badge on the top of the dresser. He does, however, find her in the bathroom.
She's sunk down in the tub, bubbles covering everything up to her chin. Just the miserable expression on her face makes him want to scoop her up in his arms and tell her everything's going to be all right.
But it's never that simple with Sarah.
So he takes a seat on the tile floor, leaning his back against the cabinet below the sink and bending his knees so the tips of his toes touch the tub.
Clearing his throat, he says, "I talked to Crews. He told me what happened."
Sarah's mouth twitches. "We had him," she whispers. "We had him, Chuck, and he got off on a stupid legality."
"It's just one guy, Sarah."
"One guy who murdered five," she fumes quietly.
He regards her closely for a moment before shifting his position, sliding onto his knees and leaning his forearms on the rim of the bathtub. "Listen to me, sweetie," he says, his voice soft but emphatic, "I know you probably think one criminal getting off ruins your perfect record –"
She opens her mouth to object, but he holds up a hand.
"You're not an agent anymore, Sarah. You're a detective, and detectives have to work within the system. It's not your fault, and no one can hold it against you – even yourself – if the system just . . . doesn't work sometimes."
Sighing heavily, Sarah leans her head back against the tub. "It shouldn't work that way."
"I know, babe. But you've already done all you can. What else are you going to do? Grab your gun and take care of him yourself?"
As soon as the words cross his lips, Chuck's sure he's said the wrong thing. Sarah's eyes flash the way they do when she's recalling a past gunfight or a particularly brutal brawl, like she's recalling a former life.
"I didn't mean it seriously," he tells her quickly. "That was not a suggestion. Sarah."
For the first time, Sarah turns her ocean-blue eyes on his. Her expression softening, she leans forward and grasps his hand in her soapy one. "Don't worry, Chuck. I know those days are over for me." She pauses, squeezes his hand. Her voice is low and soft when she says, "I love my new job, and I love that I can still serve my country."
"Good," he smiles.
"And I love that it lets me be with you."
She leans forward to kiss him before he gets a chance to reply. And when she breaks away, teasing his lips ever so slightly, she has a smile on her face.
"Come on," he says as he stands up and brushes off his jeans. "I brought home take-out and movie rentals. We are going to kick back and forget about all of this."
The water cascades off of her as she rises, and she accepts the fluffy blue towel he holds out. Wrapping it around herself, she holds his hand and steps out of the bathtub. "Chick flicks?" she asks hopefully.
"More or less," Chuck laughs. "We've got our standards – Pride and Prejudice, Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind, The Princess Bride, Gattaca –"
She places a warning hand on his chest. "Please tell me you remembered –"
"Sarah, it's me," he assures her with a crooked grin. "Of course I got Steel Magnolias."
He's never quite understood the draw of that movie for her, but what he does understand is the feel of her wrapped in his arms as she bawls her eyes out during the ending. And for his effort in securing the movie, he's rewarded with a mind-blowing kiss. I'll open up and be your parachute
And I'll never let you down
So open up and be my human angel
And we'll only hit the ground
Running
Chuck Bartowski is not a stupid man.
In fact, he's very, very bright. However, on occasion, he has been known to do some very stupid things.
Which is why he's alone in his house, sitting on the couch and clutching a vibrantly red carnation.
Biting the corner of his lip, he twists his wedding band. He hasn't seen Sarah since this afternoon, and he's starting to wonder if she'll even come back home tonight. It won't be the first time she's threatened to stay with Ellie, but it would be the first time she'll have followed through.
It hadn't been his fault really. As the president of his own computer security company, he has a responsibility to get that company onto its feet, a responsibility which compels him to take on each and every client that comes his way. It's not his fault that today's client happened to be a pretty, overly-friendly brunette who had no concept of personal space.
And she had cupcakes! How could he say 'no' to cupcakes?
Of course, she does own a bakery . . .
Sighing, he tilts his head and stares up at the ceiling. He's not quite sure how long he stays there, but he has no energy to do any of his normal time-passing activities – video games, comic books, TV show marathons.
So it's a relief when he finally hears the front door open. He sits up straight, jumping to his feet when she walks through the doorway.
"Sarah . . ."
She is not happy. Her mouth is set in a tight line, and there's anger flashing in her eyes. He hasn't been on the receiving end of a look that severe since they were working for the government, but it can still make him quake in his shoes.
"Sorry I'm home so late," she tells him shortly. "I was at Ellie and Awesome's. Now I'm going to bed."
With that, she turns on her heel and walks out on him.
"Sarah, wait!" he pleads, catching up with her in the hallway and placing a hand on her shoulder.
She pauses but doesn't turn around, and he nervously holds the carnation out to her.
"Just let me explain," he requests softly.
She doesn't move for a moment, but finally, her slender fingers curl around the delicate stem of the flower. Slowly, she spins around.
"Thirty seconds."
He breathes out in relief. "Look, it was stupid. She was just a client, and she was a little . . . over-enthusiastic about working with us, that's all. She was a little hands-on, I know, and I'm so unbelievably sorry."
"Fine," Sarah says, not sounding forgiving at all. As she resumes her stomp toward the bedroom, she mutters, "Why is it always brunettes?"
Chuck's heart falls at her dismissive acceptance of his apology, but then –
"Wait, what are you talking about?"
Turning into their room, Sarah huffs. She heads straight toward the dresser and begins to rifle through it for pajamas. "You're charming, Chuck. I get it. It's part of the reason I fell in love with you. But do you have to always encourage them?" She wheels around to accuse, "I mean, for God's sake, did she even know you were married?"
He's followed her closely, and now she's brandishing the flower like a sword at his chest. He instinctively holds up his hands in a gesture of surrender. Her gaze piercing his, Sarah exhales slowly and lets her arm fall.
"Come on, Sarah," he entreats calmly. "That's not fair. I'd never do anything to hurt you. I was in the process of pushing her away, but I guess you didn't stay long enough to see that."
Sarah softens. "Chuck . . ."
Chuck offers her a crooked smile. "Do you realize how stupid we're acting?"
Laughing quietly, she collapses onto the edge of the bed. "I'm sorry, Chuck. I know I can overreact when I get jealous."
"Believe me, I'm well aware," he says dryly as he takes a seat next to her. He takes her chin in his hand. "But you have nothing to be sorry for. If you don't wake up each and every day knowing how much I love you, then I haven't been a good enough husband."
"Chuck, come on," she says with an eye roll.
He purses his lips and meets her gaze. He finally tells her, "I assigned the installation to Anna."
"So Anna gets to deal with this woman who gives out cupcakes and hugs like they'll be extinct tomorrow?"
"Yep," he chuckles as she tickles his nose with the flower.
"See?" she asks rhetorically, winding her arms around his neck. "I always knew you were amazing." And if it feels like we might drop
It will stop
So don't look down
It wouldn't be the same without you
This life is too good to give up on
Chuck smiles as he and Sarah stroll down the park path, their linked arms swinging between them. Her fingers loose in his, Sarah lets her gaze glide absently over their surroundings. The park's fairly deserted, just a group of kids a ways off playing football and laughing. Her eyes settle on the game, her attention finally caught.
He sneaks a glance at her – the long blonde hair, the blue eyes, the amazing smile – a smile, which, he notes, is currently missing.
He pulls her close enough to gently nudge her shoulder. "You okay, hon?"
She drags her eyes away from the football game to give him an unconvincing smile. "Of course. Why would you ask?"
Chuck shrugs, trying to keep the concern out of his expression. "You've just been really quiet lately, that's all."
She stops walking and steps closer to him. Her smile grows wider, more genuine, and her eyes begin to sparkle. Fisting his shirt in her hand, she asks quietly, "What, you think I'm keeping secrets from you, Mr. Bartowski?"
"Well, I don't know, Mrs. Bartowski," he replies. "Should I be worried?"
They resume walking, Sarah leading him by the hand. "For a guy who had secrets in his brain for so long," she chuckles, "you're not so adept at figuring out other people's."
Chuck regards her curiously. "Wait, does that mean you do have some?"
"Just one."
"Well, what is it?"
Sarah turns around with a smile and teases, "If I told you, it wouldn't be a secret, now would it?"
He quickens his pace to catch up with her. "What do you mean? A secret shared is a secret doubled. Isn't that how the phrase goes?"
"Not exactly," she laughs. Stopping in front of a park bench, she pushes him gently on the shoulder and he falls onto the bench. "But I think I'm ready to tell you mine."
Chuck tilts his head to look up at her with an expectant smile.
Taking a deep breath, she grasps his hand and places it over her abdomen, both of her hands covering his. He drops his gaze to their locked hands, and she watches him calmly, watches the understanding spread across his face.
"Seriously?" he asks breathlessly. "Are you . . ."
Speechless, Sarah nods.
Laughing, he stands, scoops her up into a fierce hug, and spins her around. Her golden hair streams behind her; her delighted laughter floats on the breeze. She tangles her fingers into his hair and kisses him as he sets her back down on the ground.
His hand still in Sarah's, he turns to no one in particular and shouts, "We're gonna be parents!"
"Chuck!" she laughs, slapping him playfully on the chest. "You're probably scaring those kids over there."
"I don't care," he replies, grinning widely. He pulls her closer, cups her face and runs his thumb over her cheekbone. "I don't care, Sarah." He tries to say something else to express what he's feeling, but he's so overwhelmed that all he can do is kiss her again.
Sarah smiles against his lips, pulling back to murmur, "I love you."
Spotting a bed of roses out of the corner of his eye, Chuck breaks away and kneels down to nip one. He spins on his knee to face her, offering her the crimson flower.
"I don't believe I've told you today how much I adore you."
Lightly plucking the rose out of his hand, she holds it up to her nose and inhales deeply. She takes a step closer so he can wrap his arms around her waist. "Well, you know me, Mr. Bartowski. I prefer actions to speech."
He grins, waggling his eyebrows up and down. "In that case, what do you say we go back home and I can show you just how much I love you?"
Sarah slides a hand into his hair and leans down to press a soft, lingering kiss to his lips. Quirking a smile, she whispers, "Sounds perfect." I'll open up and be your parachute
And I'll never let you down
So open up and be my human angel
And we'll only hit the ground
And we're gonna hit the ground
Running
The baby monitor crackles to life, and Chuck, slowly returning to consciousness, can hear the weak cries of their infant son. He takes a deep breath and runs his tongue over his teeth. He'll never get used to being awoken in the middle of the night, but since it was Sarah's turn earlier, he sucks it up and slides out from beneath her.
"Chuck . . ." she groans quietly, protesting the loss of his body heat.
"Sarah . . ." he mumbles back, stretching in the moonlight that squeezes through the slats of the window blind.
"Pillow . . ." she grumbles.
Chuckling softly, he rubs his eyes, stumbles around the bed, and answers, "Baby . . ."
He turns in the doorway to see her curl up into the covers with a huff. Smiling, he shuffles out of the bedroom and down the hall toward the nursery. His smile grows wider as he turns into the room and is greeted by his four-month-old.
As soon as he walks into the nursery, he's struck by it, that feeling of joy that comes every single time he lays eyes on his son. It's a feeling that makes getting up at two in the morning worth every second.
Of course, he's also greeted by exhausted whimpers from the infant, whimpers which tug at heartstrings he hadn't known he'd possessed until a few months earlier. Chuck walks across the room, leans his forearms on the crib, and peers down inside.
With a full head of thick, dark hair and a big, wide smile (though that feature is currently absent), Colin Casey Bartowski takes after his father. But those blue eyes that shine in the moonlight belong to his mother.
Chuck reaches a hand down, and Colin, his eyes teary but his cries subsiding, latches a fist around his father's forefinger.
"What's a matter, munchkin? Huh?" Catching a whiff of the odor from his son's diaper, Chuck scrunches up his nose. "Oh, I think I found the culprit."
He scoops up the baby and carries him over to the changing table. Once he's in a fresh diaper, Colin's smile is back in place.
"There you go," Chuck laughs as he settles into the rocking chair and holds Colin to his chest. "Yeah, we're good now. Are you ready for tomorrow, buddy? We've got a big day." He's about to say more, but then remembers the baby monitor and that Sarah might not be asleep again yet. So he smiles and softly sings a lullaby as Colin drifts back to sleep.
In the morning, he and Colin head outside before Sarah's even awake. Colin, bundled up against the February air and sitting in a papoose against Chuck's chest, giggles as they bounce down the sidewalk. Mable's Flower Shop isn't usually open this early, but Chuck has become a regular customer over the past few years and he's called ahead especially for this occasion.
Mable, a middle-aged woman with auburn hair and kind hazel eyes, opens the door as he jaunts up the steps.
"Hey, Mable," Chuck smiles.
She pulls him into a hug, making sure not to crush Colin. Stepping back, she kisses the crown of the baby's head and ruffles his hair. "Good morning, Chuck. Morning, Colin! How's Sarah?"
"Great, great. How's Bill?"
"Doing just fine," she answers as she steps behind the counter. She opens a cooler and pulls out a stunning arrangement of white flowers. Turning back to the boys, Mable says, "Always gardenias. Gorgeous flowers. Your wife has excellent taste."
"And you always make the best arrangements," Chuck grins, laying the payment on the counter. "Thank you, Mable."
"Anything for you and Sarah," she says, adding with a laugh, "And now Colin!"
"Well, we're very grateful. Thanks again."
Chuck scoops up the flowers and the boys take their leave, Mable waving goodbye from the stoop. They make one last stop at the croissant shop before heading back home. He takes Colin out of the papoose and, juggling the takeout bag and flowers in one hand, creeps into the bedroom. Sarah's still fast asleep, her hair fluttering softly as she breathes out.
He places the croissants on the bedside table, sits down on the edge of the mattress, and shifts Colin to his lap. He rests the flowers on the pillow as he leans over to brush a kiss against Sarah's cheek.
"Wake up, Sarah," he whispers.
She stirs but doesn't open her eyes. "Five more minutes," she mumbles.
He chuckles softly. "Sweetie, wake up," he urges again.
This time she blinks and opens her eyes to look up at him. A smile springs to her face. "Good morning," she drawls, her voice still gravelly from sleep. She stretches and sits up against the headboard, taking Colin into her arms and showering him with kisses. "Morning, cutie. How's my little man?"
"He brought you breakfast," Chuck tells her with a smile, indicating the bag of chocolate croissants on the table.
Sarah lifts a brow. "Are those what I think they are?" Before he can answer, her gaze falls on the gardenias on the pillow. "And flowers? Chuck . . ." She lifts her eyes to his, an affectionate smile gracing her lips. "You're so sweet. C'mere."
Chuck, moving the flowers, scoots into bed next to her. She leans over and grazes her lips over his.
"Thank you, Chuck," she murmurs.
He grins. "Happy birthday, Sarah."