I don't own Chuck

He awoke, feeling cocooned, but in the best way. Sarah was had her arms wrapped around him, and he was lying on his back, one arm wrapped around her, the other gently holding her wrist. Last night she had lowered her mask, lowered her CIA shield, and let him all the way in. She had admitted everything to him that she could. Everything that she understood.

He had meant what he said before, most people never let anyone all the way in, and it wasn't intentional. There were things in everyone lives that you didn't share for numerous reasons. People lied to themselves constantly, and right now, Chuck Bartowski was stuck with a lie. He kept going back and forth about the feelings Sarah was having for him.

On one hand, he couldn't believe this woman, had feelings for him, on the other, he was certain she did, and one of them was a lie, they could not both be true. She was amazing, badass, and he was just so impressed by everything she had done in her life. He slipped out from under her, and she snuggled against the pillow he had been lying on.

He walked over, grab the ice bucket, and started down the hallway. Did Sarah really feel romantic feelings for him, or was she confusing other emotions she didn't have to deal with in the past because of her job. Chuck had no idea, but what he did know is he wanted something cold to drink. He walked up to the ice machine and put the bucket under the nozzle, and pressed the button. He turned and looked behind him, seeing Sarah, standing there, her arms crossed in what appeared to be just a tee shirt.

"I'll be just a second," he began, turning back to his ice, not really processing what was going on in behind him. "Just need some ice." The image of what was behind him finally processed in his mind, and he whipped his head back. "SARAH!" he hissed.

"Darlin'," she said to him in a Texas accent, a smile on her face but not in her eyes. "Watch the machine or you're gonna get ice everywhere."

He turned back, and yanked the bucket back before ice went everywhere. He turned and walked toward her. "What are you doing?" he whispered, looking around. He glanced down at her long. Bare. Legs. Good God were they long…and bare.

"Ahem," she said, snapping him out of his thoughts, looking at her. "You know how I just can't be away from you." She was still smiling and her eyes were not. It was in that instance, Chuck realized, wrong or not for going to get ice, he was in her eyes.

"Listen," he began, getting scared.

"Let's get back to the room, darlin', it's a little chilly out here, Mr. Charles." She looked him right in the eye.

"Right," he said, affronting his best Texas accent. "Back to the room for my cold drink."

"It's not the only thing that's cold," Sarah muttered, as she took his arm and led him back to the room. Chuck had never walked beside someone, with her arm through his, while being led, but that was exactly what was happening to him.

"How much trouble am I in?" he asked quietly.

"None," she said, glancing at him. "I just had to get out here to make sure you were safe," she replied, her tone low as well. "Next time, wake me."

"But you look adorable when you sleep," Chuck told her.

She gave him a look. "Charles, you got the girl, you don't need to make up stories." Chuck opened the room door, and found himself being passed as Sarah checked out the room.

"I'm not making up any stories," Chuck told her, as she turned toward him. She had a skeptical look on her face. "I'm not." She shook her head. "And-and, I'm really sorry, making you go out like that. I didn't think, and that's no excuse, I know, but I didn't think it was that big a deal."

"Chuck, there's a hit out on me, and if they find you alive…" Sarah trailed off, shaking her head. "I know you don't always want to be around me-"

"Just in the bathroom," Chuck cut in, making her chuckle. "Sarah, you're not a burden, I just…I just didn't think." She nodded. "Did I…" he trailed off.

"Did you what?" Sarah asked.

"It's nothing," Chuck told her. Her gaze held his, and he suddenly thought he better tell her, for his own good. "Did I worry you."

"Yeah," Sarah admitted.

"I'm sorry," Chuck told her. "I know you need my help."

"Chuck," Sarah said, looking him right in the eye. "I need your help, but more importantly, I need you."

There was silence in the room, you could cut with a knife. "When you say need?" Chuck began. The next thing he knew, he had dropped the ice bucket because Sarah Walker had crossed the room in two strides, took his face in her hands and kissed him soundly.

She pulled away and looked him in the eyes. "Need," she said softly.

"I understand," Chuck replied.

"No, you don't," Sarah said, shaking her head, smiling at him. "But I think you will."

"I'm gonna need more ice now," Chuck blurted out.

"Is that really what you're concerned about?" Sarah asked him, raising an eyebrow at him. Chuck pressed his lips together, not sure how to answer.