A YuleTie Tale
By Steampunk . Chuckster
Summary: Sarah Walker was dumped the day before Christmas Eve, and her Plus One at her work's annual Christmas Eve Soiree is now officially a Plus Zero. Her best friend Ellie Bartowski has a solution to her problem, and Sarah finds she isn't quite as sure about it as Ellie is. AU Christmas Charah.
A/N: Thank you for reading and reviewing. Enjoy!
Disclaimer: I don't own CHUCK. I don't own the characters. I am poor and will remain poor even after I post this fic, because nobody's paying me for this.
He opened the door quickly as if he'd been waiting right in the entryway for her to come back.
And as she stepped inside, he leaned out into the hallway and looked both ways, before pulling back in.
"Coast is clear," she giggled, figuring out what he was doing. "She's back in her own apartment, probably with the beginnings of a Too-Many-Mimosas headache she'll be taking an aspirin for."
"Too-Many-Mimosas and Too-Many-Brothers-Dating-Best-Friends," Chuck said with a wince, shutting the door and flipping the lock. She noticed that part. Smart man.
It was just them, standing in his apartment, the events of the last half hour sitting between them. Heavily. The lighthearted headiness and, frankly, lust-charged air that had been here before Ellie's arrival was gone now. Definitely.
"Uh…" Chuck let out a long breath and shook himself, then fixed Sarah with a concerned look. "How are you after, uh, all that? You okay?"
"This has been quite the twenty-four hours," she drawled, turning the cup in her hand to look at it. Then she shifted it so that he could read it too. "That's editor-in-chief bitch to you," she read dully, then huffed, blowing some hair out of her face. "Not so much. Not to mention I feel like the worst friend in the world after what I put Ellie through with all of this."
"Well, if you're the worst friend, I'm the worst brother."
"We kind of suck for this," she groused, thrusting her free hand out in a shrug. "Like, it wasn't enough I made her spend a huge chunk of her holiday celebrations worrying about me and my turmoil, then we spring on her that we slept together last night. Her little brother and her best friend."
"Younger brother," he corrected quietly. She gave him a look and he shrugged, wrinkling his nose cutely. "That's…not important. Right. Um, you know, she's right. She doesn't know this but I'm the one who kissed you last night. I mean, I kissed you first. And as good as it feels to have you here right now, she's right that I shouldn't have done it. It wasn't the right place or time and I know better than that. She taught me better than that." He reached up to push his fingers through his hair, looking contrite.
"Maybe you shouldn't have, sure. But I'm not mad at you for it. You felt exactly what I was feeling in that moment."
"The way it was just building," he said a little breathlessly.
Sarah nodded, playing with the mug in her hands. "I was an emotional mess. I still am. But not about you. I was pretty…clear-eyed about you. I am still. I told Ellie that, but I feel like that's something you need to hear from me too." He pressed his lips together and stayed quiet, just meeting her gaze. "And Ellie was wrong about at least one thing, Chuck. Nothing is going to make me regret last night."
He let out a ragged breath, looking relieved. "I'm so glad. I don't blame her for going off on me. I'm-I'm glad she did. That was stuff I really needed to hear. I…" He paused, a look of almost realization, like a lightbulb going off over his head, coming over his face. She wondered what that was about. "I needed to hear it. Definitely. As bad as it felt, and as awkward as it was 'cause I knew you were probably somewhere listening to the whole thing."
"Sorry. I'm so sorry. I shouldn't have let that continue for so long."
"No, I get it. It took guts to reveal yourself knowing it was gonna be really fucking uncomfortable. And it was really fucking uncomfortable."
"Yeah, I've never wanted to melt into the floor so much in my entire life."
"Same. I'm still…reeling. Do you want a drink? Like a hard one?"
"Oh my God, yes," she rushed out. "The hardest shit you've got, please and thank you."
He hurried past her and she followed in his wake, stopping at the edge of his kitchen and leaning her hip against the counter. His apartment was similar to Ellie and Devon's, only it was smaller, and therefore the kitchen was smashed right up against his living room. He'd opted for a couch and entertainment area over the table Ellie and Devon had, not having as much space as they did. And the hallway was shorter with only the one bathroom and one bedroom, as well as a small nook for the washer and dryer.
It fit him like a glove.
She loved watching him in his home, in his space, the way he moved here, with such ease. Or maybe getting things out into the open had eased some of the weight and pressure he'd had on his shoulders. Ellie was so hard to keep things from. They'd lasted about six hours today, if that. And it hadn't just been Chuck. Since Sarah'd been the one to grab and kiss him in front of everyone.
"Ah! Found some bourbon." He lowered the hand that had been rummaging in his liquor cabinet and flashed the label at her. "Only the good stuff for Sarah Walker."
Giggling, she strolled a little closer and watched as he grabbed two brandy sifters, expertly pouring for them both before he turned and offered one to her.
She grabbed it and took a long sip of the straight bourbon, feeling it burn as it went down. God, it felt good.
"Oh. I was gonna cheers to…a relatively positive outcome from telling our people about, um, us. But that's cool. Down the hatch." He followed suit.
"Sorry," she said after a second long sip. "I just…needed this really badly after that. After…all of this."
Chuck nodded, swirling the bourbon in his sifter a bit. "I feel like I added all this weight to what you're already dealing with. Even though we're both onboard with this date thing, seeing this through I mean. And it-it wasn't just that Ellie said it. I felt it before, she just underscored what I was already afraid of."
"Stop making this sound like it was a one-way street. Like you're the only one to blame. I was equally involved, equally conscious. You may have kissed me first, but I definitely kissed you back. Both of us made some decisions last night, and maybe the timing wasn't…perfect." She arched one eyebrow. "But then again, I-I feel like I needed it." Chuck shifted closer to her, just close enough to be comfortably nearby without actually touching her. And she wanted his touch so urgently suddenly… "I've needed that for…a while, Chuck."
"How long is a while? If I can ask." He cleared his throat, shifting his weight, taking another sip from his bourbon. As if the answer didn't mean a hell of a lot to him. But he wore his emotions on his sleeve, this one. And she could see he was on tenterhooks waiting for her answer.
Pursing her lips and twisting them to the side, she brought her own sifter up to take a sip. She took more than just a sip. Once she swallowed, she said smartly, "I won't talk without my lawyer, Officer."
"Shall I get Zargon on the phone, ask him to reassess his decision to be a jackass—ow!" He laughed as she set her empty mug on the counter to swat his arm. "Sorry. I'm sorry. That was too soon. I'm sorry."
"Yeah, well…those texts of his opened up a new door for me and made last night a lot easier to handle. I meant everything I said about being glad it was you instead of him. I'm starting to think there isn't anyone else I would've rather had there with me, Chuck."
A slow grin spread over his face. He pressed his lips together then, one half of his mouth tilting up, his golden brown eyes sparkling. "You still didn't answer my question."
"Told ya I need a lawyer."
"Please?"
She giggled, shaking her head. "Honestly, it's…a long time. And that's all I feel comfortable saying."
"What?!" He set his sifter down hard on the counter, teasingly, making her giggle again. "Sarah, it's me! Come on! It's your Chuck." He went in with his fingers out, pretending to poke her sides. She laughed and stepped away, shoving at his hands as best she could.
But then what he said dawned on her and she raised her eyebrows, tilting her head. "Are you my Chuck?"
He blushed just a little. "Of course I am. I have been. For a while now."
Her heart raced, that ever-present pitter-pattering in her chest that had been there for so damn long, perhaps since that day when she first met him. But it was more intense now that he was…hers. Apparently. "How long?"
"Pfffft. I'm not telling if you're not."
She loved the way he wrinkled his face up, pursing his lips.
"You're not?" she asked slowly, in a low voice. He froze and she heard him swallow. She decided to go one step further, just to see what he did about it.
She took a sip of her bourbon, then ran the tip of her tongue along the lip of the sifter where she drank from, before licking her own lips, all while making full eye contact.
"Wha-What? What's—Ahem, what's that what was that…that you just did…right there?" he mumbled, squirming, his face tight.
Was she going to say this? Really? Before even a first date? Even after the awkwardness of the last half hour with Ellie, only a few hours ago actually deciding they wanted to pursue this… She was actually going to say it? She couldn't. She was going to anyway. Screw it.
"You can think of it as a preview if you want…" Chuck choked on pure air, his eyes nearly popping out of his head. "Provided you answer my question."
"Wow. Wowwwwwwww…" He looked both exceedingly pleased and a little scandalized at the same time. It was an enjoyable combination on his handsome face. "I cannot believe you." She beamed at him cheekily. "A preview, oh my God. And you know what the worst part is?" She tilted her head in question. "It absolutely worked. I'm just gonna tell you and hope you believe me, slash, that you don't get scared and sprint out of here."
"Are you kidding me? After Ellie just now, you really think I'm going to sprint out of here for anything? She'd hunt me down like The Most Dangerous Game."
Chuck pointed at her. "I understood that literary reference. HA!"
She chuckled. "I'm proud of you."
And the cutie blushed at that. And then he shuffled his feet, looking embarrassed. "Ellie brought you over to me to introduce us to one another at the 'block' party," he said, tossing up air quotes, "and I'd definitely never seen anyone so stunningly beautiful ever in my entire life. But then I realized who you actually were—"
Sarah blanched a bit. "Wait, you read my articles before you met me too?"
"No, Ellie had just talked so much about her new friend Sarah and how great she was, and all of these awesome things you'd already done for her, like those one on one self-defense lessons you gave her for those nights when she has to leave the hospital at two in the morning by herself and pepper spray just doesn't cut it."
Oh.
Oh. This was so much better than him just knowing her from her stories.
"Actually meeting you when I already had a super high opinion of you from what she'd told me about you, and seeing how objectively gorgeous you are, blew my mind. I mean my expectations were way up here," he said, holding his hand up over his head. "And meeting you in person exceeded those expectations exponentially. And I immediately had a crush. It's embarrassing, I know, how quick it was. But I feel like any other straight guy in my shoes would've had the same reaction."
Sarah smiled up at him, then moved up to her tiptoes to place a chaste kiss on his lips, rolling back onto her heels. Then what he'd said to Ellie while she was still hiding in the hallway listening to them talk came back to her mind. "Wait. You told Ellie it was that time I yelled at that jackass in the street when he screamed at her over a parking space."
Chuck winced. "Um…that's a different thing. I told you I got a crush on you when I first met you. That, um, that situation was what, um, caused me to have a great deal more than just an innocent crush."
He seemed to regret the way he'd phrased that immediately, and she couldn't help but cling to that and tease him mercilessly. "Are you saying it's not so innocent now, Chuck?"
Glaring a bit, he shook his head and sighed. "After I witnessed you tearing that asshole a new…er, asshole?" She snorted. "No way."
Sarah's jaw fell open. "Really? That was all it took?"
"Yep," he breathed, biting his lip and winking.
She laughed. It was the worst timing, she knew. He was coming onto her hard, and she was responding in kind. And the correct response to that would've been to grab him and kiss him, in no uncertain terms make clear that her intention was to end tonight in the same way they'd ended Christmas Eve.
But it was just so purely Chuck to fall for a woman after watching her yell at a bully and refuse to back down until he ran off with his tail tucked between his legs. Maybe it was a symptom of having Ellie as his sister. Maybe he'd read comic books with women superheroes. Or that Leia character in Star Wars. She didn't know what it was, but it was such a Chuck Bartowski way to react, she couldn't help laughing.
She just adored him so much it made her almost lightheaded.
"I'm sorry," she said through the leftover chuckles, seeing the puzzled look he was giving her. She freed her hands so that she could cup them on either side of his face. "It's just so…you. There is no one like you, Chuck Bartowski."
"That might be true. I'm a weirdo."
"You're a weirdo. But you're also just so many good things wrapped up in one package, it's kind of overwhelming. I've never met anyone like you before."
"Package, eh?" He beamed. "Heeeey-ooooo."
"Oh my God," she giggled, shaking her head at him. His arms came up to round her waist and pull her in close so that their fronts were pressed together. She raised an eyebrow at him for it.
"The way you phrased that, actually…kinda makes me sound like a Christmas present. So in lieu of getting to open presents like the rest of us earlier, do I get to offer myself up as your Christmas present?"
"That…is kind of terrible." She laughed again. "You're such a sweet goof. If that makes you feel better, even though I've said over and over and over that I didn't need any gifts today, then go ahead and offer."
He gave her a closed-mouth smile that wrinkled his nose, his golden eyes sparkling warmly. And then he leaned in and pressed a kiss to the juncture of her jaw and neck. A slow kiss that made her blood heat up.
He moved his lips down her neck and placed another kiss there. And then he pulled back, the look on his face entirely different, the same sort of look he'd given her over the rim of his sake during dinner.
Then, they couldn't do anything about it.
But they could now.
And he made the first move, slipping his hands around the backs of her thighs, squeezing, and hoisting her off of the ground. She gasped, wrapping her legs around his hips and grabbing his biceps in a tight grip. She grinned hard. "What are you doing?" she asked in a warning tone.
"Making my official offering."
She threw her head back with a laugh as he carried her off.
}o{
Sarah Walker was the most physically comfortable she'd ever been in her entire life, she decided. Comfortable enough that she'd apparently fallen asleep for a bit.
She felt his arms draped tightly and securely over the small of her back, but there was also a thick, soft material pulled up over her shoulders, cloaking them in one another's warmth. This cocoon was somehow even better than the one they'd made Christmas morning.
Maybe it was that the air had officially been cleared now. They didn't have to hide away or tiptoe.
She didn't know. It just felt so good.
She'd fallen into a short nap wearing nothing at all, however, and on a couch where she hadn't seen any blankets around. So she wondered how Chuck had found something to drape over her back while she was napping. Maybe she'd just been too preoccupied with quenching her thirst and she hadn't noticed the blanket draped on the arm of the couch or something.
It was sweet, anyway.
And she was so, so comfortable, lying so that she was fully on top of him, her face buried under his jaw, their legs a tangled mess with how tall they both were on this couch that was maybe not big enough for what they'd been doing on it. She had no idea how he, especially, could be at all comfortable. Her full weight on his chest, his six foot four frame smashed onto a couch that wasn't long enough for his legs to be fully extended. And she felt herself smirking in amusement into his neck as she remembered how much more ungainly the sex had been this time because they were on the couch. She didn't know why there was an almost desperate need between them this time, but it meant Chuck had bonked his head on the arm of the couch more than once. Their arms had ended up jammed between their bodies and the back of the couch. He'd kicked his foot out once and smacked his toe hard on his coffee table. They'd also had to get a little creative which had been exceptionally fun. And genuinely funny.
The record he'd put on after setting her on the couch—some old instrumental jazz songs she didn't recognize with whining trumpets and soft tapping on a snare drum—had ended pretty soon into things, and they'd left it because she wouldn't let him leave her. She blushed as she thought it, but the thump-whir of the record still spinning had added a sense of rhythm to what they were doing.
She hummed now, squirming a bit against his warm figure underneath her own, cuddling closer to him.
"Awake?" he asked quietly, his voice crackling in supreme satisfaction. Still, the record was doing that thump whir of the needle dragging over it.
"Mhm. Sorry I fell asleep on you," she said, the last half moaned through a yawn. "Literally."
He giggled, his chest bouncing under hers. "Oh, anytime."
He hugged her tighter and she smiled, letting her teeth graze his jaw as she tilted her head back. "Tomorrow," he said then, turning his face into her very disheveled hair.
"M'what tomorrow? Isn't it already tomorrow?"
"I'd have to move to see the time, and I'm not about to do that, but I don't think it's quite midnight yet. You weren't sleeping for that long, maybe ten minutes." She hummed in acknowledgement. "Do you want to go out with me? Tomorrow. Maybe dinner or something."
Sarah felt her chest fill and she very slightly pushed herself up onto her elbows to look down in his face. "Or something? Does that mean you'll go dancing with me?"
"What?!" He cracked up. "That was a leap, Sarah."
"No, it was not. You danced just fine last night."
"Did I?" he asked doubtfully, narrowing his eyes and pressing his lips together. "I seem to remember feeling absolutely ridiculous. I know for a fact, my dancing was not just fine."
"I liked it."
"You're biased. Because apparently you sort of like me. It was done under extraordinary circumstances and it ain't happening again soooo…"
Giggling, she shook her head at him. "Booooo."
"You didn't answer. About tomorrow."
"Yes," she said immediately, nodding. "Yes."
And then she buried her face under his jaw again.
They stayed that way for a while, silence falling between them comfortably. And she shut her eyes again, this time staying awake but just enjoying the feeling of his pointer finger running over the bumps and valleys of her spine, so slowly it was almost as if he was counting.
And then she realized he was following the rhythm of the record and its endless spinning, the thump whirrrrr thump whirrrrrr…
He interrupted the silence finally, his voice quiet, his breath fanning the hair that fell over her ear as he spoke.
"Do you think Ellie will resent me forever because I kissed you last night?"
"It was much more than a kiss, Chuck. And I'd say all of it was pretty fuggin' mutual." She cuddled closer to him with a satisfied hum.
"Uh, true. That's true." He cleared his throat, flattening his hand on the small of her back. It was warm, comforting. "But I meant the fact that I was the one who made that first move. That was the thing she seemed the most upset about. Not really us, I mean us being…Well, what we are."
"Dating?" She lifted her head and looked down at him, a small smile on her face.
"That. Yes." A slow smile grew on his own face. She loved that smile most of all, maybe. It had always made her toes curl. Especially when it was specifically directed at her. The smile dimmed then, though. "She didn't seem like she was that upset about us dating. It was the fact that I made a move on you when you were emotionally compromised. Vulnerable." He sighed. "You just felt like you were…there with me. I felt this…gravity after everything we went through together last night. Like there was this massively intense connection that felt like it was…so important that it eclipsed my worry that maybe the timing wasn't…well, maybe it wasn't the right time."
"I understand. And I agree." She took a deep breath, shifting her arm up from where she was clinging to his waist, fixing one of his curls, then cupping his jaw. "There's no real way to explain what happened last night to someone who didn't go through it themselves."
"Exactly." He huffed, shutting his eyes and nuzzling his face against her hand. "Ellie just doesn't understand. And I don't blame her for not understanding. I just don't want her to be disappointed in me. I don't want her thinking bad of me. Like I used last night and what you went through with your job as a good excuse to shoot my shot with this girl I've been mad about for years."
Sarah groaned and rolled her gaze to the ceiling, knowing she was focusing on the wrong thing, but she couldn't help it. "You wear your heart on your sleeve, Chuck. How did I miss that all this time?" She'd missed so much and she prided herself on her observance skills. It was her job, for fuck's sake.
"You were too close," he said, shaking his head and pursing his lips with a raised eyebrow smugly. "Sometimes when you get too close, you don't see the truth. Like an impressionist painting. You have to stand further back to really see the full picture."
She giggled. "That was pretty good, Charles Bartowski. You trying out for the poetry corner in my new magazine I'm gonna be founding with all my soon-to-be free time?" she teased, and he chuckled, but she knew she'd made a mistake joking like that when his eyes snapped open wide, his nostrils flaring, his body tensing under hers.
He lifted his head a bit, craning his neck. "Sarah, oh my God. Oh my God, Sarah! Are you doing that? Are you starting your own magazine?"
"What?" She laughed in disbelief. "I was joking."
"But it's perfect!" He pushed himself up onto his elbows so she slid a bit down his body, looking up at him like he'd grown an extra head. "Sarah, you're a natural-born leader. You're the best writer I've ever read. You have that whole binder in your apartment that you talked about, right? With all your plans? What you'd do with ROAM once you were promoted? You don't need ROAM. You can just start your own. From scratch. Using all of that as a blueprint."
Sarah pushed herself up from him, clutching the blanket to her body for modesty, still not wearing even a shred of clothing as she sat in the space between his legs. She shook her head fervently. "Chuck, that's—I can't…do this right now. This conversation. It's too soon. I'm still too fucked up and upset about missing out on the promotion. Being disrespected by a job I've put so much of myself into. I don't want to talk about that yet. Okay? I can't right now."
He immediately looked contrite and she felt bad. "No, no. You're right. I'm sorry, Sarah. I got…I got carried away." He pushed himself to sit up, too, lowering one leg to the floor in front of the couch and leaning in closer to her. "I don't know jack shit about the journalism industry, about magazines, newspapers, whatever. I don't know what it takes to pull off something like this, and I shouldn't have pushed—"
"It's okay." She reached up to stroke a hand down his cheek. "I didn't mean to snap. I'm obviously still…" She sighed, shaking her head, embarrassed.
"It's all still fresh, raw. I get you, Sarah." He hesitated for a moment, and then he wrapped his arms around her, pulling her side into his chest and hugging her tight, pressing a kiss to her hair. "I'm sorry. Maybe just pretend I didn't say all that just now. We'll forget about it and go to bed."
Sarah reared back and lifted an eyebrow saucily. "Oh, will we now?"
He blushed. "To sleep. I meant to sleep."
"Oh." She pouted teasingly. "Fine, I guess."
Yes, she was doing exactly what he suggested, pretending he hadn't blurted out his not very well thought out plan for her career's future. No, she wasn't exactly proud of it. But he had given her the option, after all.
"Seriously?" He laughed, blushing harder. "After what just happened? And after not getting any sleep last night? Jesus Christ, Sarah Walker."
She cracked up. "What can I say? A girl wants what she wants."
And they made the awkward, red-faced trip back to the bedroom, blankets and clothes held over their bodies in embarrassment, even as they laughed at themselves for it.
}o{
It was the twenty-eighth of December when Sarah found the wherewithal and energy and need, frankly, to leave her apartment again. And with the date with Chuck not working out thanks to an emergency at the Buy More rearing its ugly head and forcing him to rush in. She was bummed but it also meant she could continue to bury herself. She'd switched between her bed and the couch for the most part, all throughout the day after Christmas, and the day after that, and the morning after that. It was all she was fit for.
In spite of enjoying the best Christmas of her life, in spite of texting practically nonstop with the man she was apparently dating now, a man she'd secretly loved for well over a year now, in spite of Ellie's own correspondence with her best friend who'd slept with her brother not seeming to slow down thank God… Sarah had still allowed herself to get bogged down by the fact that she still had to face the music at ROAM Magazine at some point. Not until after the New Year, but that was still there. Looming. Like a dark cloud over her head that just wouldn't go away.
She'd tried to go to her desk, sit down, open her laptop. But the second she saw her work email sitting there pulled up on her screen, she cried again. It was ridiculous but she let herself do it.
And she made the mistake of going onto her Facebook, too. Morgan posted a picture he'd taken of everyone during the game and tagged her in it. Luckily he didn't say anything about her and Chuck, as close as they were pressed together, grinning up at the camera, each of their hands holding one side of the notepad they shared. That wasn't really how she wanted people finding out about them. So freaking early on in this…process? Sure. Process. Was dating a process? Shit, she was so bad at this.
But there was also a Facebook message from her mom. And that was the real rub. A friend of hers had sent her someone's "twitting thing" and she forwarded it to Sarah. Rita McClannon, a reporter for a rag that fronted as a respectable magazine but was only vaguely less morally bankrupt than TMZ, tweeted about Sarah Walker getting passed up as editor-in-chief of ROAM Magazine. She said it caused a shockwave in the journalism world. That women were speaking out against it, citing it as yet another sign that the profession was still stuck in Mad Men days even as it pretended it was "woke". God, she'd used the word "woke"…
Emma added her own two cents. "Honey, call me if you need me. Rich and I are going to Hermosa Beach for his real estate business soon. Just a few days. But still call me. I'll answer if I can. Sorry to hear about this. I'm surprised you didn't say anything about a promotion to me. Your mom's here."
Sarah had slammed her laptop shut, climbed up from her desk, and went right back to her couch in the other room, plopping face-down onto it and covering her head with a pillow so that she could scream into her cushions the way she'd screamed out into the Pacific Ocean on Christmas Eve. Only this time, Chuck hadn't been there holding onto her for dear life. None of his strength had been there behind her.
And she'd then missed him a whole lot even though she'd left his apartment the afternoon after Christmas, finally, not twenty four hours before her screaming moment on the couch.
A day had passed now since seeing her mom's Facebook message. And she'd finally turned on her notifications again. She'd responded to the texts with "Thank yous" and "It's okay I'll be fines" and "I appreciate your supports" and "I don't know but I'll figure it outs" and "I always land on my feets" … She was a writer. She knew how to phrase things to get the most out of her words.
And it had meant folks generally got the hint and let her be after that.
Diane had attempted to call. Twice.
Steeped in guilt, as the woman was her friend and mentor, and probably was genuinely worried about her, she'd answered the second time. It was last night, when she'd made herself instant mac'n'cheese out of a little cup you added water to and stuck in the microwave. She'd answered still chewing.
"Hi."
Diane stayed quiet for a few moments. And finally spoke after probably taking a second to try to gauge whether Sarah was okay or not. To figure out how to approach the younger woman. Diane was like that. Clinical in her precision.
It was how she was the only woman editor-in-chief under the Lichtenstein umbrella, save for Mary Fells who headed his one fashion magazine. Of course.
"Sarah, I'm glad you're alive."
Sarah chuckled. "Barely. How was your Christmas, Diane?"
"Honestly, I was pissed off the whole time and Roan couldn't do anything about it. So I probably ruined his Christmas too, but he's none too happy either. I hope you didn't hide through Christmas…"
"I was with people," she said. "My people. It actually…was good for me."
"I'm so glad. Sarah, we have a lot to talk about. And I know you probably aren't feeling up to it tonight so I won't bug you now. But I want to see you for lunch soon. Can we schedule that?"
Always to the point, Diane Beckman. Never tiptoeing. Never skirting a subject. Rarely gentle. She just rammed right in there.
Blinking, Sarah let out a slow breath. "Yeah. Sure. When?"
"You free for lunch tomorrow?"
Well, shit. "Um."
"If that's too soon, the day after. The twenty-ninth."
"You sure you can get away? I know you went right back to the National Eagle the second Christmas ended. It's how you operate."
"Nobody else is gonna run that thing. But I can get away whenever I want and if anybody tries to say shit, I'll punch them in the eye. I'm tired of people's bullshit. And frankly, I don't even want to talk to Harvey. Ever again."
Sarah ducked her head and shut her eyes tightly. "Yeah, I'm not feeling too chummy with the guy, either."
"I wish you'd poured dead fish into his Tesla or something."
For a moment she wondered how well Diane Beckman and Morgan Grimes would get along.
"My career would never see the light of day again but it's an amazing image," she laughed. "Harvey opening his door to get in and mountains of fish just pouring out onto his designer shoes."
The two women laughed together. And then they made their plans for the next day.
And now here was Sarah, climbing out of her car in the parking lot of the cafe where she and Diane met for lunch semi-regularly. It was where Diane first told Sarah that her partner was considering retiring but that nobody knew about it yet. It was where the seed was planted that perhaps she might consider replacing him.
Here she was a few months later, barely able to get dressed.
Though, that wasn't really true, was it? She'd gotten dressed just fine, she'd put makeup on for the first time since Christmas, and she'd stepped outside.
She ignored a text from Chuck as she walked inside of the cafe and spotted Diane sitting at their usual table in the back corner where they could talk more freely. Always five to ten minutes early, that woman.
Sarah had learned to arrive earlier than the given time as well over the years. And so twelve-thirty lunches wordlessly turned to twelve-twenty lunches because Sarah hated the idea of Diane sitting there for ten minutes waiting.
Diane didn't waste anyone's time with formalities, so she stayed sitting as Sarah approached, merely smiling at her with that almost matronly smile, and gesturing to the seat across from her. "Already had them pour you some coffee."
"You're a gem, Diane. Thank you."
She sat down, unloading her messenger back on the window seat next to their table, unbuttoning her coat and shrugging it off over the back of the chair behind her. "So, um…how're things?"
Diane gave her a flat look and she winced.
"Fuck Harvey Lichtenstein. Fuck Clyde Decker. And frankly, fuck this whole profession. First of all." Diane leaned her folded arms on the table so that her face was closer, and Sarah saw that the wrinkles on the older woman's face had deepened significantly in the last few days. It made her feel bad. How much had Diane Beckman fretted over what happened? "I've always known there wasn't nearly as much equity as people pretended there was, but I thought we'd gotten better since I was your age. I realized the other night that I might be wrong about that."
Sarah nodded. "Yeah, it felt like a kick to the gut."
"Look, I'll be straight with you. But at the end of the day, I don't want anything I say, Roan says, Harvey, Clyde, some other person in your life…I don't want anything anyone else says to be what influences your decisions about moving forward from here. About ROAM, about your career. In the end, it has to be you. Or you may regret it at some point in the future. Maybe not now or even in the next ten years, but eventually, you'll look back and wish you'd gone with your own damn gut."
The waiter came and brought their sandwiches. Sarah sent Diane an arched eyebrow as he set down the same sandwich Sarah always got. The cashew chicken salad sandwich on rye. With raw veggies on the side.
"I also took the liberty of ordering for you so you can eat right when you get here. I'm nice, what can I say?" Diane said with a shrug.
Sarah giggled. "Thank you. This is exactly what I would have ordered."
"I know." She leaned in again, this time over a turkey and cheese sandwich. "Listen, I've been thinking the past few days. You have something special, Sarah. Something superior to what I've seen in everybody else I've watched climb the ranks. And listen, I've been in this business for a long, long time. Almost forty God damn years."
"Thank you, Diane."
"Don't thank me. I hate when you thank me for saying the truth." Sarah bit her lip to keep from smirking. "The more I thought about it, the more I thought about Roan and what he did and went through as editor-in-chief of ROAM for all those years… Sarah, you've grown so much as a journalist, and as a leader in this industry, as a verifiable star in the journalism world. You are better than the job you were passed up for at that stupid fucking soiree." She leaned in further. "You're better than working for Harvey Lichtenstein. You're better than ROAM Magazine."
Sarah blinked, raising an eyebrow and turning to stare at the bus stop bench outside of the window. A kid was sitting there with his mom, a little superhero action figure in his hand. It was the big green guy. The Hulk, wasn't it? She shook herself. "Oh. But I…I don't know anything else besides ROAM. It's my home, you know? It's where I was raised in the profession. By Roan, by you at the National Eagle. It's…yeah, it's all I know. They're my…team. My crew."
"You're better than that place. I know what I'm talking about. Trust me. You are the pinnacle of journalistic talent and hard work. ROAM is where careers go to die. It's even more evident to me now. Watching that stupid fool announce Decker…after the red sheet that came across my eyes cleared, halfway through Christmas practically," she groused, shifting her weight and rolling her eyes, "I started looking back and remembering all of the shit I saw there. Some shit Roan could've stopped and didn't—that's something he needs to come to terms with and trust me I'll be helping him out with that," she said drily, and this time Sarah couldn't stop the smirk, she just loved this woman so damn much, "and there was some shit he couldn't have stopped. Because it's hard to stop a train that's headed for a dead-end when it's as big of a train as ROAM."
"A dead-end?" Sarah asked.
"Lichtenstein blew up the tracks a mile ahead when he picked Decker over you. ROAM Magazine is done for. Maybe not this year or next. Maybe it'll take a few years, but the world is moving fast in a direction stupid Lichty is totally blind to. I thought he was more observant, and I was wrong. He's a dumb ass."
Sarah choked a bit on a carrot, taking a sip of water to wash it down.
"What? He is. It's so obvious that we're done with that ol' boys club mentality. We're done with the slap-the-intern-on-the-ass-as-she-hands-you-the-coffee-she-poured-for-you bullshit from the 'seventies. Yes, they tried it," she sassed when Sarah widened her eyes, "but one of them ended up with a broken thumb so they never tried that shit again."
"You're my hero," Sarah laughed.
"You're my hero," Diane said seriously after a beat, allowing them both to sober up from the laughter first. "And that's the truth. Which is why I think it's best for you to get off of the sinking ship that is ROAM Magazine. You would've been able to save it, Sarah Walker. I know you had plans. And I'm sure your plans would've saved it. Not that it would'a deserved you. But now Decker is going to drive it into the dumpster quick. And I think you should get outta there as soon as you can."
Sarah wasn't sure what to say. "Uh…wow." She paused, thinking about what Diane had just said. And she shook her head a little. "I was given a chance at ROAM, in spite of being wet behind the ears. And they let me climb the ranks."
"Roan did. Yes. But he got resistance the whole way."
Sarah was well aware.
"Who else is going to give me a chance? Who will have a place for me? What sort of rag is going to see the cast-off garbage ROAM Magazine tossed out and go, 'Oh she must be pretty great! Let's give her a leadership role!', Diane?"
"You. You're going to give you a chance. And I am."
"What?"
"This is just something for you to chew on. And again, I don't want to be the one pushing. This has to be a decision you make on your own. But I am positive you have what it takes to create your own—"
"Magazine?" Sarah asked, eyes going wide. She'd been joking that night on Chuck's couch. "You want me to start my own magazine?"
"No." Diane took a bite out of her sandwich, licking her fingers slowly, then wiping her hand on her napkin, allowing herself to chew and swallow before continuing, Sarah dying in the meantime, bursts of tingling electricity shooting through her, making her fingers go numb. "I want you to start your own umbrella."
The ground slipped out from under Sarah Walker, like someone stripped the chair from her even as she sat on it. And it took a long time for her to recover from it.
A very long time.
}o{
Sarah finally looked at her phone when she got home, still numb in spite of the rest of the lunch going pretty normally, both of the women ranting about Harvey, about Clyde, getting shit off their chests. Diane hugged her tightly as they said goodbye, and Sarah promised to think hard about it.
Diane said she would partner with her, that Roan would hop on as well in spite of his whole "retirement" thing. It would mean Diane left National Eagle too.
And it also meant finding the moneybags somewhere. But Diane said she had a few secret leads.
But it was crazy.
It was all crazy.
Which was why she couldn't stop thinking about it.
She glanced at the text from Chuck, from two hours earlier. "How would you feel about that rain checked date happening tonight? I know it's kinda last minute. Need more time? Or maybe it doesn't have to be a date we can just hang out and watch a movie or play Monopoly."
Sarah smiled for the first time since she left the cafe and sank into the chair at her table. "I hate Monopoly and you know this."
"Yeah, I thought it would spur you towards the other options if I gave you an option I knew you didn't like." He was typing again. "And now I just revealed my villainous plans so I'm an idiot and it's not gonna work."
Giggling, she typed, "I could use a date tonight, actually. Please." She decided she didn't want to talk to him about her lunch over text. And she wanted a clear headed person to talk to about this. "Your timing couldn't be more perfect."
"Can I pick you up at 6?"
"Yes please."
There were a few minutes where she saw him typing, changing his mind, typing again. It was adorable, and she melted back into her chair, slumping down a bit. It finally popped up. "Are you okay? Do you need to talk? I'm at the CrapMore but I can pretend I have chicken pox and leave early."
She laughed. "Yeah please don't do that. I'm totally fine. I'll see you at 6. Fancy or no?"
"Oh. Right." Nothing. She waited. "Hold on. Customer." He was silent for two whole minutes as she continued waiting. "Sorry bout that. Not fancy I guess. Sorry. I'd like to do fancy but I'm waiting for my end of the year bonus. I don't know what it's gonna look like or if I even get one. Stupid corporate BS."
"It's OK Chuck. I prefer non fancy tonight. See you at 6."
"You betyergorgeousbottom." He sent a gif of a little kid dancing goofily and she laughed.
"Thanks for reminding me of your Christmas Eve dance!"
"OMG SHUT UP. I RETRACT THE DATE OFFER. THIS IS OVER." He sent a wink and a laugh emoji. Then immediately added: "I was jk. You know I'm jk right?"
Sarah cracked up hard. She could let him sweat a bit, she knew, but he was being his usual day-making self, helping to improve her mood, so she quickly reassured him with, "Of COURSE I know you're joking. No sane man passes up on this ass."
"NO HE DOES NOT. I'M ALSO DYING LAUGHING. JUST SO YOU KNOW."
Sarah laughed harder, texting back, "Good."
And then she tossed her phone onto the table top and smirked happily, the earlier conversation with Diane Beckman gone from her mind for the time being.
A/N: Well holy shit.
Please review. Thanks!
-SC
