summary: "Fortunately for me, my wife likes me baby smooth." Canon, one-shot, set post-season 3. Chuck grows a beard, and Sarah's surprised by how different the change feels. Utter silly domestic fluff.

note: hey, y'all. this is very much a light, silly thing i wrote a while back, with no big stakes or plotlines whatsoever. i just wrote a whole con/death fic, so hey, balance. anyway, one of my favourite later Chuck eps is 5x04, Versus the Business Trip, particularly for the Team Bartowski scene at the end, which also has that joke about Chuck growing a beard like Morgan's, and Sarah and Chuck agreeing they both prefer him "baby smooth". that line is a tiny throwaway, inconsequential thing, soooo, naturally, I wrote them deciding that! no, i don't think they ever actually discussed Chuck's facial hair, and yes this is literally a story about a beard. as the narrative hopefully makes clear, this is set just after Season 3, before the time-spanning Season 4 opening plot takes place. it's just soft Chuck and Sarah, and it is incredibly silly and stupid and light, all about a dang beard. hopefully it'll make someone smile lol. Feel free to leave a review!

disclaimer: I don't own Chuck, beards, laser tag, or aftershave.

She notices it about two weeks into their time off.

After almost three years spent constantly immersed in the spy life, deep in missions and training and action, with danger so immediate all the time, and after Shaw's return and Orion's death, followed by Chuck leaving the CIA and everyone dealing with all of that, they'd decided to take a much needed break. Chuck had paused his job hunt and time figuring out what he wants to do next, Sarah had booked a little leave from the CIA. And they've taken time, the two of them, away from all the change. Days have been spent simply, hanging out together, going to the market, evenings spent at dinners with Ellie and Awesome, or movie nights with Morgan. They've had wonderful lazy days curled up in bed, too, or on the couch from noon 'til night. Just time, both of them, what they needed. To reset, regroup, and breathe.

But two weeks in, Sarah notices a change.

It begins one morning. A simple, regular morning, a Tuesday, when she's curled up with her boyfriend upon waking. As she slowly rouses, feeling the warm morning sun shining through their window, she registers the other feelings around her. Chuck's arms surround her like always, soft and calming and safe, their legs are tangled up with his feet keeping hers warm.

And there's the scratch of stubble against her cheek for the second morning in a row.

The tickle of it trails down her neck and collarbone, the unfamiliar sensation fully waking her up. She giggles at the feeling, more amusing than distracting. Peeling open her eyes, she looks up and sees Chuck awake, grinning at her, gaze a little sleepy but full of love, like always. His cheeks are dappled with stubble.

"Good morning," he murmurs, and she grins, raising a hand and cupping his scratchy jaw. At the feel of it, she's reminded a little of their time on that train in Europe, the wonderful laziness of it all. It had been the first time she'd been so close to Chuck in so many ways, emotionally and physically. In their hours of leisure (and pleasure) between rounds in the sheets and constant orders of food and drinks, he hadn't found a moment to shave for a while. And being so close, she'd been more aware of the stubble than the few other times she'd seen him rock it, which was usually days-long missions or early morning briefings before he'd gotten ready for work. On their love-drunk train ride, though, she'd felt it, kissed it, sensed it as he trailed kisses all over her body, again and again. She hasn't often seen the sight, felt it this closely, from then until now. Sometimes he skips one day shaving, sure, but rarely two.

She shrugs it off, grinning up at him instead.

"Mmmm, it is," she replies to him, a little flirty, and Chuck growls stupidly, leaning in to kiss her again.

Already thinking of those lazy happy hours, she lets herself get lost in the past memories, and the very real present in her arms.

Later, she's making breakfast for them both- or, brunch, considering the time- when he emerges from the bathroom, freshly showered. She doesn't turn around as she pours out coffee for them, instead waiting for the almost predictable feeling (but in such a good way) of his arms slipping around her waist. Smiling when he does just that, she breathes in happily, but pauses when she doesn't smell the familiar scent of his aftershave.

Tilting her head, she looks at him with subtle curiosity.

And sure enough, that stubble is still there.

Clueless, he leans in, kisses her softly again, and she brushes aside the observations.

"So, what are we doing today?" he asks, upbeat and happy. "It's pretty hot out- spontaneous beach day?"

Giggling, and loving the idea, she kisses him again, ignoring the slight scratch against her cheeks as she does so.

Two days later, the stubble has only grown.

That scent of aftershave is an unknown thing in their apartment, and a scratchy half-beard is apparently living upon her boyfriend's face. It's not fully grown in, yet, and certainly nowhere near the beard she knows he'd sported during their break up mess earlier in the year. It's not even Morgan level.

But it is, for some reason, a beard. And she doesn't know why.

She frowns a little at the newspaper in her hand as she thinks about it.

Chuck's been through a lot, lately. There's been a lot of change. His sister finally knows about his spy life, and they're back to being open and honest once more, a huge relief for him. His father was killed, Chuck witnessing it, a devastatingly tragic, scarring event. He quit the CIA, just after finally reaching a place of comfort within it. Things with her are... frankly, great. Their initial honeymoon period has certainly ended by now, they're living together and spending a whole lot of time together, but it's... amazing. The best thing in her life, by far, and she hopes the same is true for Chuck.

But perhaps all these conflicting, changing things, all this worry paired with happiness, uncertainty paired with surety, has led Chuck to feel a need to change things. He's done it in the past, after all; the man has sported many a hairstyle since she's known him. Sometimes she misses those wild wild curls from the early days. Oh, how she'd longed to run her hands through them. Oh, how, in the few kisses they shared back then, she did. But as he's grown, as his spy career has taken off, as things within him have matured, he's changed up his hair a little in keeping with that.

Maybe the beard is simply a change instead of a haircut. In a way she doesn't mind; she quite likes his hair right now. He's still got the curls, but with a more mature, controllable vibe. But still, this is a big change- the only time she's known him have such a look is indeed that depressed time they went through after Prague. She would worry he was hiding such dark feelings again if she weren't so sure things are just that good between them now. She'd know.

Sighing, she tosses the newspaper down. She really doesn't know why, after three years, Chuck has decided to have a beard. But it's his face; it's hardly Sarah's place to critique what he does with it.

At that moment, the front door opens, and she looks over to see the very man she's thinking of walking through it, bright smile on his lips. Beard still on his face around said lips. Blinking at the unfamiliarity, she brings up a smile more on autopilot.

"Hey, baby," he drawls, and she smiles genuinely this time.

"Hey. How was, uh..." She trails off, forgetting the exact name of the thing he'd been at today.

"Laser Tag 3000XD." That. "It was awesome, Morgan and I won. Obviously."

She smirks, gesturing to the spare sofa space beside her.

"Because you flashed on things?" she guesses. He's a good shot, but he'd gone on at length this morning about how complicated this particular laser tag course was. His casualness now is certainly suspicious.

He freezes, eyes adorably wide.
"Uhhhh... I plead the fifth?"

With that, he flops down beside her, and she snorts, reaching out and ruffling his hair.

"I'm pretty sure it doesn't work like that."

"Eh," he says with a shrug, and then he leans in and kisses her. Slipping her eyes shut, she smiles at the clear grin on his own lips, humming against him, feeling how he tilts his head. Ordinarily, she'd let the kiss go on, deepen it a little, but when he moves she feels the beard brush against her skin, and she jolts. She'd almost forgotten, despite musing on it so much. Managing to turn the jump into a simple ending, she pulls back, grinning at him with an idea instead.

"Maybe we should go some time." she drawls, bouncing her eyebrows. She truly does want to; he'd made it sound like a fun challenge this morning. And sometimes shooting things, even with lasers, can be incredibly cathartic.

Sure enough, Chuck gapes, eyes alight.

"Oh my god. Yes." He beams, enthusiasm brimming in him. "Can you imagine- The Intersect and Agent Walker absolutely crushing laser tag?! We'd wipe the floor with everyone else!"

She smirks at the slip, what he'd called himself.

"So you did flash."

He pouts, glaring at her, but he can't seem to stay mad for long, and she grins for just a moment before he ends up laughing, leaning in and kissing her again instead.

"Sarah, can I ask you something?" Ellie begins as they near the apartment. Sarah turns to her friend with a curious look.

The two of them had headed out for coffee together today, knowing Sarah's time off will end next week, her return to the CIA imminent. While they've spent quite a bit of time together lately, good time, catching up, Sarah opening up a lot about her real life, place here, her job and her history, after all the lies she'd told Ellie- while that's all been great, it's often been with Chuck and Devon around too. They needed some time just the two of them, to really talk. For Ellie to share her worries about her brother, what he's been through, for Sarah to share her own concerns about returning to the CIA without him, but her agreement with Ellie that he's so much safer out of everything. And for her to apologize, about lying for so long. Deceiving probably the closest friend she's ever known. Pretending to be an every day hotdog and yogurt server, and only pretending, until more recently, to be dating Chuck.

And so they'd set up today, finding just a little local place new to Echo Park. Since it was so near, they'd turned the lunch date into a walk, too.

Nodding after a beat, Sarah smiles. With everything they've covered today, it can't be anything more uncomfortable or awkward for her.

"Sure."

"I... Is Chuck okay?" Ellie asks, clear hesitance in her voice.

Sarah frowns, turning to Ellie with worry.

"I- Yes. Why, has he said something to you?"

"No, no, nothing at all," Ellie reassures her, raising a hand, and Sarah sighs in relief that she hasn't missed something major. "But... I have noticed something."

Frowning again in curiosity this time, Sarah hums.
"Yeah?"

"What the hell is with the beard?"

She gapes, stopping and facing Ellie fully.
"Oh my god, right?!"

"You have noticed!" Ellie says, and Sarah nods furiously.

"Of course! I don't know where it came from, he just stopped shaving one day. I thought maybe he was, y'know, sad about everything lately, but I know that can't be it, he seems so happy, things are great with us, with you..."

Ellie sends her an exasperated look, folding her arms over her chest.
"It's so weird. He's never had a beard. Like, ever. I have no idea why he suddenly decided to be a taller Morgan Grimes."

The image is so oddly accurate Sarah can't help but bark a laugh. Sure, Chuck's beard isn't quite as dark or full as their little friend's, but when Sarah had seen the two in the kitchen at breakfast today they had looked like weird, height-reversed doubles of each other. When Chuck had leaned in to kiss her good morning, it had felt bizarrely like kissing a super tall, curly haired Morgan. Which had not been a fun thought to have mid-kiss.

Sarah can't lie, she doesn't hate the beard. It's not like she's ever been wildly opposed to beards generally on guys, and with Chuck it's no exception. The thing has grown in more, so it's less scratchy and stubbly now, and it does make Chuck's eyes look darker, somehow, really a deep beautiful brown in certain lights. He's still the man she loves, that she's very much attracted to, with or without facial hair.

But it's just so... different. So un-Chuck. She does a double take when he walks into a room, because he's such a different sight. She misses the smell of that aftershave he always used to have around him- he smells different, now. And he feels different, to kiss. To snuggle. It's an adjustment she'll make if he wants to keep the look, of course, it's Chuck, she'd accept and love him any which way, but it's still a change.

"I don't know either," she says to Ellie, shrugging helplessly. "He's never mentioned it, it just happened. And I don't wanna bring it up in case he thinks I hate it or something."

"Well, do you?" Ellie asks bluntly, and despite everything, Sarah finds herself fumbling for the right way to reply. Ellie simply winces at the pause. "Oh, Sarah..."

"No!" she insists, starting to walk toward the apartment complex again. "No, I don't hate it. But it's very different."

"It's not Chuck." Ellie surmises, and Sarah cringes a little at the other woman reading her mind quite so easily

"Yeah. I mean- I could get used to it! It could be Chuck."

Ellie hums a little, but Sarah can see she's not quite sold on that idea, either.

"Maybe I should ask him why." she offers, but Sarah shakes her head.

"No," she sighs. "No, I should. I just need to figure out how."

Nodding, Ellie smirks a little wryly at her when they reach the courtyard entrance.
"Well, let me know when you do."

With a promise to do just that, they say their farewells, and Sarah begins racking her brains for ideas.

She's still pretty stuck when she walks past the bathroom and spots Chuck at the sink a couple of days later. It's morning, but they're still on vacation until Monday, so after a lazy (but lovely) morning between the sheets, he'd taken a shower and then pulled on an undershirt and jeans. But where the past couple weeks he had then come through to the kitchen after that routine, today he'd apparently headed into the bathroom, like he used to. To shave.

Her first instinct is to be relieved that he's back into his old morning ways- and, if the beard had been out of sadness at recent events, maybe no longer sad. But, when Sarah lingers in the doorway, she sees that's not what he's doing at all. No, he's not shaving the beard. He's trimming it.

In his hands is an electric beard trimmer, and in the sink sit a few stray cut bits of beard, nothing more. She didn't even know he owned a beard trimmer.

"Oh, hey!" he says happily when he catches her eye. "I'm just making it all tidy, I'll be outta here in five."

She blinks, her own morning routine, yet to occur, so far from her mind.

"Uh, yeah..." she says absently. At least he's not letting the beard grow out like his depressed break up beard, she muses. But he's trimming it, to keep it there. Still.

Her pause must not have been as subtle as she'd hoped, though; he tilts his head with a curious frown.

"What's up?" he asks, seriously, and she forces a happy beam his way, bouncing her shoulders.

"Nothing! I'll-"

"Sarah."

Damn. He's using that fake stern tone of his, the one he uses a lot, when he's partly teasing her but usually actually trying to stop her doing something. Often it's sneaking another cookie that's actually his, or slipping a DVD that she wants to watch into the player rather than one he'd picked. Today, though, he's caught her; he's telling her to stop lying.

And she can't keep lying about a beard of all things, that would just be ridiculous. So she sighs, stuffs her hands into the pockets of her robe.

"It's not that big a deal," she warns, and he raises an eyebrow. "I just... Can we talk about the beard?"

He pauses, visibly, apparently surprised by that. And then his face falls a little, expression so close to that of a wounded puppy, and dammit, this is why she hadn't brought it up. He's too cute.

"You don't like it?"

"It's not that," she reassures him quickly, because her own opinions aren't the issue here. She's simply confused. "I just want to make sure you're okay."

Tilting his head, he frowns again, lost.
"Because of a beard?"

She nods, sighing a little.

"Maybe it's not a big thing to you, and I get that, but- the whole time I've known you you've gone like, two days without shaving. Apart from after Prague."

"Oh." Realization visibly dawns, apology following, and he sets down the trimmer in his hand and moves toward her with soft, sorry eyes. "Crap, I'm sorry. I didn't even think about it like that. I'm fine, really, Sarah, even with my Dad and the CIA and everything, I'm- I'm nowhere near a Prague thing right now. I'm happy! Baby, I'm so, so happy, with you."

Oh, him and his earnest, genuine smile. He'd known exactly what her concern was, why she wanted to talk about this, and just like that he's reassured her in a few sweet words. Grinning softly up at him, her heart racing a little at his words and the pure, soft honesty of them, she slips her hands around his waist, steps into him.

"I thought that." She nods, relieved she wasn't wrong. "And I'm glad that's not it- I told Ellie it wouldn't be."

"Wait, Ellie mentioned it too?" he asks with a funny surprised look, and Sarah nods, lifts a shoulder.

"Yeah." He blinks, and she shrugs again. "It's a pretty big change, one you just... did, with no mention of it. We worry."

"Right."

She can see from his expression that he's still piecing this together, so surprised they'd been worried by it, oblivious cute nerd. Smiling still in relief that he's not harbouring sadness or hiding anything serious from her, she nods, leans in a little.

"So..." He raises an eyebrow at her pause, and she sends him an exasperated look. "Why did you grow it?"

"Oh." Pouting in thought, he shrugs a little. "I don't know. I kinda wanted a change, just for fun."

A change. For fun. She blinks, thoroughly underwhelmed.

"That's it?"

"Yeah." he says, simply, plainly. "I mean, I guess that and being at the Buy More since college, I never grew one just to try and look more professional- though god knows why, there. But, mainly just..."

"You wanted to."

He shrugs again.
"Yeah."

"Oh."

Well, now she knows he's not secretly extremely sad and upset, or going through a crisis, or bored, or lost, or getting into manscaping... she doesn't quite know what to do.

He looks down at her, still frowning curiously. But then he gapes a little, eyes widening, and she freezes.

"Oh my god, you really don't like it!"

She blinks. How did he...?

"No! No, Chuck, it's-"

"You hate it!"

"I don't hate it!"

"But you don't like it!" She winces, and he pulls away, running a hand through his hair. "Dammit. I thought it looked good."

"It does," she insists. Because it does. Objectively. "Chuck, it doesn't matter what I think."

"Of course it does!" he says, with a little whine in his voice. "You're my girlfriend, I love you, of course it matters."

He sounds so quietly hurt, his eyes so soft, and she can't help but plead with him.

"But it's your choice- it's your face! You can do whatever you want."

"Not if you don't like it," he insists. "I don't wanna do it if you don't like it!"

"It's not that I don't." she repeats, raising a hand to stop him interrupting her again. "But it's very different. And that's not a bad thing- it's not. But it's... an adjustment."

He still looks lost, and she sighs. This is a conversation that's gonna require some explaining, she can tell. And so she reaches for his hand, tugging him into their bedroom to at least let them sit down for this. He sits on the bed, looking confused, and she climbs up next to him, getting comfortable while she figures out her words, how to phrase all this. After a minute, she squeezes Chuck's hand, still in hers, and begins.

"I've known you for almost three years now, right? And I've loved you for... a few days less than that." He grins a little softly at that, she sees, and she can't help but do the same. "And the whole time I've known you, you haven't had a beard. It's just- what I associate with you, y'know? Like, your hair, or your shoes. It's part of you."

"Okay," he says slowly, accepting that as fact, and she nods as she moves on.

"And I've noticed these past couple weeks just... how different this feels to me. Not in a bad way," she repeats, hastily. "But still. You- you smell different." She feels her cheeks burning at the almost childish point, but Chuck just smirks kindly.

"Really?"

"Yeah. You always smelled like your aftershave- other things, too, but that was always there. And now you don't. It takes me a second longer now to realize when you're in the room because you don't have that aftershave smell anymore." He nods, expression different but unreadable. Swallowing, she keeps going. Being this open about her own personal feelings is still pretty new to her, simply saying what she's thinking so honestly, raw, but for Chuck, the most open person she's ever known, she'll do her best here. "And you feel different. When I'm kissing you, obviously, there's... a beard there. But when I wake up in the middle of the night and you're holding me, it's a different feel, against my arm or my neck, or..."

Once more, he nods, and she carries on.

"And... other things, too. Just little things. I got used to kissing your cheek- we did that so much for the cover." She can't help but pause wistfully at that, the memories, and Chuck looks lost in them too. "And if we're cuddling and watching TV, or we're in the kitchen, or here, you know I like to kiss you here." She swipes a finger at his jaw quickly, the formerly smooth skin covered by the beard now. It was a soft, tender spot, one she'd used to her advantage quite a bit in this very bed sometimes, but also liked to find out of familiarity in a late night movie snuggle session, that kind of thing. Just her spot, easy to reach when she craned her neck or rose on her toes.

"Yeah. I, uh, I have noticed that."

Smiling, she reaches for his hand.

"And that's a little different, too, now. I meant what I said, Chuck, it's your face, your beard, you can do whatever. And I can adjust, I will, but until then..."

"It'll take you some time."

Nodding, she smiles a little wryly.

"Exactly. It's just a beard, I know, and being so surprised by it feels stupid- this all does. Even telling you all this about a beard, I know it's so silly. It was just sudden, and unexpected, but I'll get there, and-"

"Nah."

He lets go, hops off the bed quickly and leaves, and she blinks.

"What?"

Standing too, she quickly follows him, finding him back in the bathroom and rummaging in the cupboards.

"It's just a beard," he says after a beat, standing upright. "I thought I'd try it out, I'm not that attached to it- except for currently physically, obviously. And it's not worth this."

Blinking again, she sees the razor now in his hand, shaving cream in the other. And though she did kinda want this earlier today, she suddenly feels like she can't make him do this.

"Chuck, it's okay."

He chuckles, shaking his head, turning the faucet and letting the sink fill up.

"I didn't realize this would be an adjustment for you. I didn't know about all that stuff with the aftershave, this bit," He taps his jaw, then wets his face with the water running. "Changing all that isn't worth it. Maybe it looked good and maybe I was just growing it for fun, but I really don't care about it, not if it's gonna make you need to change."

She widens her eyes, aware quite how dramatic a silly old beard has somehow suddenly gotten.

"But it's-"

"I know it's my face. I know it's my choice to do whatever." Pressing out some shaving cream, he lathers it up on his cheeks. "So I'm choosing this."

And with that, he picks up the razor, and shaves off a huge strip from his cheek in one quick swoop.

"Oh." she breathes, just watching as he rinses and keeps going. He really can't go back now with that bit shaved- it would look truly silly.

"Look, I know relationships are about compromise," he says after a few more sections. "But I'm being honest when I say this really didn't mean a thing compared to any opinion you have of me, Sarah."

"I could've compromised, though," she mumbles out, but he just chuckles.

"It's a beard! A big deal to Morgan, maybe, but c'mon, it's not the end of the world." It isn't. And she'd never felt like it was. But for the man she loves to suddenly change, and for her to realize all the changes that come with it, was slightly startling. She didn't realize just how attached she'd become to Chuck Bartowski. The one she's come to know, baby smooth, that smell of aftershave, the softness of his lips, all of that and so much more, all Chuck. "And I promise, next time I wanna change things up, even the next time I want to grow a beard, I'll ask you first- or at least give you some warning. Save the hassle and the razor burn."

"And the stubble burn," she muses aloud, and he snorts. She's serious about that one, though, she's been covered in the stuff. Everywhere.

When he's done, all remnants of the beard washed down the sink, he slathers on that familiar aftershave, wincing a little but grinning at her after a beat. She smirks as he sidles toward her, slipping his hands around her waist and tugging her in for a hug. And as she nestles her head against his neck, she inhales his scent, the one she knows so well, this time. Tilting her head, she presses a kiss to that part of his jaw, the taste of the cologne on her lips, and he giggles against her.

Footsteps sound out behind them, but they don't pull apart, only shifting a little.

"Oh, hey, buddy," Chuck greets, ghosting a kiss over Sarah's temple, and she sees as Morgan looks up from his phone mid-walk down the hall.

And then the man freezes, jaw dropping, mouth agape. With his beard around it.

"We're- we're not twins anymore." he mumbles, and Chuck laughs softly, just a breath. Sarah's sure now isn't the time to mention the height thing again, since Morgan has clearly referred to them both as 'twins' before. Pointing out that they look completely different would just be rubbing salt into the wound, now. "Are you gonna grow it back?"

"Nah. Figured I'm more Chuck without it," he says simply, not explaining everything about her own feelings to Morgan but somehow summarizing this whole bizarre afternoon well enough.

But Morgan simply pouts, eyes actually filling with tears, before he falls to his knees dramatically, over dramatically. Sarah blinks at the sight, somehow sure he's re-enacting the end of a movie. This had all felt a bit dramatic, she supposes. But she swears she knows this move, and she knows what comes next. And so she braces herself.

"Noooooooooooo!"

With a laugh, she tugs on Chuck's hand, pulls him into their bedroom, and gives Morgan some space to mourn the beard that once was.

And as Chuck kisses her soundly in the privacy of their room, she's sure, she definitely prefers her boyfriend baby smooth.

note: again, pure silliness with these two. please review if you fancy; i'll see you around!