summary: Set post-series. Sarah's memories are coming back, slowly, and she and Chuck are gradually healing. But when Sarah doesn't know something minor about her husband, and lets an adorable fluffball into their apartment, they're both reminded of what they've lost, but all they'll gain, together. One-shot.
note: yeees, it's some literal fluff, y'all. here's the thing: i have Serious Dramatic Plot fics written, and one edited and ready to go already lol, but this came to me, i ran with it, and it made me happy! so i'm posting it first over the Serious Dramatic Plot stuff because, well, why not. this is an ode to my cat, Ernie, who has been the best lockdown buddy and enjoys lounging around in the sun... but he can't and i'm sure doesn't appreciate Chuck fanfiction (though he enjoys watching the credits and following the lil nerd herd guy across the screen, for reals) so this is more something I wrote because I was grumpily thinking how TPTB made Chuck be allergic to cats, and I love cats, and I was mad that Chuck and Sarah could never get a cat or even be around one... And then I realised a perfect time in which they could. so, this is post-series, Chuck had other priorities and did not give his wife a full run-down of his allergies when Telling Her Their Story, and boom, all this. this is set a good few months after the beach; i don't go into specifics about what happened between then and now because eh. we all have our own ideas, so if yours fit to get Chuck and Sarah to this point, that's fine with me. i'm posting this because the world is still on fire and i thought some of y'all might want to read something light and completely un-world-changing, it's as simple as that.
disclaimer: I don't own Chuck, patios, a ginger tabby, or cat hair covered jeans- actually wait, no, I do own those last two... but I don't own Chuck.
your flowers just died, plant new seeds in the melody
She chuckles as she casts a look over to their little balcony-slash-patio again, seeing the animal there still happily curled up in the sun, tail flicking against the concrete intermittently. It's a cute, content thing, having been sunbathing there for hours without a care in the world, and Sarah almost envies it as she looks back at the book in her lap, attempting to read it once more.
God, how she wishes she had no cares. Right now, she can't imagine a world where she ever becomes carefree again; everything, everything in her life at this moment takes work. Delicate, patient, sometimes utterly exhausting work, with painstaking time and effort.
It's worth it, though. Oh, is it worth it.
Right on cue, she hears the front door opening, and she sets down her book and glances to the entrance as her husband walks in, messenger bag over his shoulder.
"Hey," she greets, and he looks across at her, sending her an open, honest, bright and beaming grin that makes her stomach flip like always.
"Hey, baby," he murmurs, tugging off his bag, tossing it on the chair as he reaches her. "How was your day?"
She shrugs. It's too easy to hear what's unsaid in his words.
"The same." Although she tries not to sound downtrodden, his eyes soften in sympathy anyway while he stops by her side.
It's been weeks since she's remembered anything. Weeks without a reminder of the life she used to lead. Her perfect, wonderful life before one selfish, slighted man upended it. Destroyed them. A few little memories have returned to her, mostly scattered, unimportant things- sizzling shrimp, Chuck doing a bad German accent, Heather freakin' Chandler- but in recent weeks it's all seemed to slow and stop, and she's terrified that this is all she'll ever know. That these scraps are all she'll recall of what she knows were the most important, happiest five years of her life.
It's been tough to deal with, tough to face. But even so they're rebuilding, slowly, her and Chuck. In this apartment, the two of them, they're working on things. Physically, yes- even when missing memories she's beyond attracted to Chuck, in love with his sweetness, his warmth, his everything, and after overcoming some initial awkwardness, things between them are settled and comfortable and, well, very very good in that department. But personally, too, they're getting closer, opening up, talking about feelings, sharing stories and memories- Chuck's the ones she's forgotten, and Sarah the ones she can recall, stories from the days before she knew him, stories she'd never told him.
They're being more open than they've ever been, she's sure, even if she can't remember it. By her nature it's hard to open up, it always has been, and though she knows she changed and she knows she and Chuck are and were married and so in love before Quinn took over, she's positive she still had some secrets from him. Now, she's trying to be as open as she can, share everything important she can think of. The difficult things, the secret things, the old, once-painful things. She's sharing them for her husband. The man who loves her more than anything, the man who refused to let her just walk away when she tried so desperately, so mistakenly to do just that. The man who kissed her on a beach and made her feel more complete than she could ever remember, only because she'd forgotten every other kiss. While her memories did not magically return that day, with that one kiss and the feelings it brought she'd sworn she'd never leave Chuck again. She knew no matter what, as she still knows now, he's the key to her life. The key to her memories, sometimes, but mainly to her happiness, her home, her love. Those are all he cares about, and time and again in these long months that's all he's aimed for. Not memories, not the old Sarah back, which she wouldn't even blame him for, just... her, being happy.
Yet it still weighs on her. She can't remember meeting her husband. Can't remember falling for him. Can't remember their wedding. And that's enough to get anyone down, she's sure.
Before her Chuck smiles softly, leans down to plant a kiss to her hair.
"Hey, it's- Wait."
At his abrupt stop, she looks up at him, frowning at his confused expression. He's looking behind her, watching something outside.
"What is it?" she asks, and Chuck blinks.
"Uh. Sarah, there's a cat on our balcony."
"Oh!" Laughing, she looks back out to the patio and the tabby sunning himself there. For a second she'd thought Chuck had seen something dangerous, but she's relieved and amused it's just her new friend. "Yeah, I think he's the neighbors', I've seen him around a few times."
The cat is a chunky thing, well-groomed and with a purple collar around his orange neck, so he's far from a stray- in fact, Sarah's sure she's seen the animal wandering happily through the courtyard a few times, near Ellie and Devon's old apartment, so she presumes that's where he's from. Today he's just appeared on their patio mid-afternoon, clearly having found the sunny spot, and while Sarah hadn't let him into their home in case he ran into a room and hid where she couldn't find him, she'd happily showered him with attention and affection outside. He'd particularly loved when she'd scratched by his ears; he rolled right over on the concrete with a long, happy purr.
Chuck pauses, expression unclear, a little off.
"How... is he there?"
"I don't know." She shrugs. "He must have snuck around and crawled through that bush, he's been out there for hours now."
Once more, Chuck just blinks, and Sarah raises an eyebrow, watching as her husband wrinkles his nose oddly.
"Did you pet it?" he asks, and she frowns.
"A little, yeah... He- he's very friendly, you can go right up to him." she offers, since Chuck seems so reluctant. She wonders idly if he's afraid of cats, but she's sure he would tell her now if he was; instead, he just seems confused.
"I'm good," he says strangely, then glances back at her. "You have cat hair on your pants, there, huh?"
Looking down at her black jeans, seeing the light orange fur speckled against the material, she chuckles again.
"Yeah, he rubbed up against me and it got everywhere, he's just so fluffy..." At her words, Chuck says nothing, once more wrinkling his nose in that very odd way. He's just getting stranger and stranger, she thinks, and yet again she frowns in concern. "Chuck, are you o-"
And then he interrupts her with an explosive, incredibly loud sneeze.
The volume is so intense, her first instinct is to duck and cover her ears, right back to Basic Training instructions. Even the cat outside jumps at the sound, leaping up almost like in a cartoon, hair on end.
Just like that, a memory comes rushing back to Sarah in a flash. A majestic tiger, a collar, a sneeze.
"Oh, my god, you're allergic to cats."
"No!" Chuck protests, before immediately sneezing again, thankfully quieter this time. With how loud it was and his weird expressions before, she thinks must've been trying to hold the first one off for as long as possible. Knowing what she does now, she simply narrows her eyes in the beginnings of a glare at his denial, and he relents. "Okay, yes, fine, but I'll just take a Benadryl, it's cool."
"Chuck, god, I-" Huffing out a breath of frustration and annoyance, she stands from the couch and heads to their balcony, scooping up the friendly cat and marching to their front door, the easiest way to get him out of here. The fluffball is of course agreeable to the situation, nuzzling against her and purring, and she sighs. She thought it was cute, a cat outside, making itself at home, enjoying the affection. She'd even considered thinking about asking Chuck if they should get one themselves, but clearly that's a non-starter. With another sigh, she tugs the door open, popping the cat down on their doorstep to return across the courtyard to its own home.
Its own home without a severely allergic person inside. Her husband. Chuck. God.
Shutting the door, she turns around and leans her back against it, squeezing her eyes shut against the sudden tears she feels burning in them. She didn't even know her own husband was allergic to cats. She pet the thing, let it stay on their patio, let it rub up against her all adorably, completely not knowing it would lead to Chuck sneezing his damn head off.
It's the smallest thing, but it still hurts, to not even know that. To have forgotten something so simple.
"Hey, baby, it's okay." Chuck says, voice reassuring and soothing, loving. She can feel him step closer, but she stays against the door, folding her arms right across her chest. Protectively.
"No it's not."
"It's just a cat!" he insists, and she hears the desperation in his words, the attempt to convince her of that. "It's not a life or death thing, it wouldn't have killed me. Cats just make me sneeze, it's fine."
"It's not about the cat." she presses out, forcing herself to open her eyes and look at him. He's right before her, his own eyes a little red from the allergies, but still so full of sympathy, sorrow. But she knows what he just did, and she won't let herself revel in his reassurances. "You didn't tell me. You could've told me right away, but you avoided it. Even as I kept talking about it, even when you had plenty of time to remind me. You didn't."
He gulps, looking somewhat chastised, and nods.
"Yeah. I know."
While she gives him credit for his honesty, it's not enough right now.
"Why?" she asks, needing to know, but also already being so sure of his answer. And that just hurts more.
"C'mon, Sarah, you know why," he murmurs. "I didn't wanna remind you-"
"Of what I've lost?!" she exclaims, and she catches how his expression crumples as more ideas flood her. She's hot with anger, frustration at herself. "Of what I can't remember? Of everything he took from me? God, Chuck, I think about that all the damn time!"
"Not that," he says softly, stepping closer. "I know that, I think about it so much too, but... I didn't wanna hurt you. I didn't wanna remind you of the pain, what he put you through. Everything- everything that happened, with us, not just... everything we can't remember."
Damn. Although she wanted him honest, she's suddenly aware that was more than she needed. Because he's right; the moment he says it, it all comes back, and she's deep in it all, thinking of the agony Quinn had caused her, the betrayal he'd planted in her brain. She tries not to let herself think back to that day in their dream house too often, their names etched onto the doorframe, catching in the moonlight as she readied her fists... But now she's back there once more, the awful memories swallowing her. Chuck knows as well as she that whenever he or anyone else lets her in on something else she doesn't remember, points out another moment that's slipped between her fingers, it's never long before the memory of all that pain follows. Remembering that she's forgotten always leads her to think of what she'd done. And how devastating it had felt when she'd realized she'd been played, and the world as she knew it had tumbled down around her.
Today, Chuck had tried to spare her, just for a moment.
But although they're shouldering it all together, although he's the very person who caught her, saved her from that devastation, today the "we" in his sentence cuts just a little too close to home. He remembers it all. It's only her whose very thoughts were torn from her. She sighs, stepping away and quickly heading down the hall before he can catch her.
"Where are you going?" he calls out, voice a little panicked, but she just huffs out a breath and throws her hands up.
"To change these stupid pants!" she shouts behind her. In all this, changing her jeans is the one thing she definitely can do.
Storming into the bedroom, she rifles around in their closet, quickly finding and tugging out a clean pair of pants and swiftly ripping off the old ones, stupid allergic cat hair with them.
"Sarah, wait, hey..." Despite the way Chuck's voice gets louder through the words, increasing as he rushes down the hallway behind her, he suddenly trails off. She spins only to find him in the doorway, eyes upon her very bare legs. "Hiyo," he breathes, like he isn't even aware he's saying it, and she can't help but flush with warmth even as she knows this really isn't the time.
"Chuck," she half-warns as she pulls the new pants on, and he blinks, meeting her eyes.
"Right. Sorry. And... and, sorry."
Sighing, she swallows and avoids his gaze, focusing on fastening the new jeans while trying to compose herself.
"It's okay."
And it is, really. She gets it. Chuck was just trying to spare her the hurt, in his own way.
"No, no, I should've told you." he says, rushing toward her and resting his hands on her shoulders. She merely lifts one in a shrug, smiling sadly.
"You said it, it wasn't life or death. I know if it had been you would've told me before."
"I would've, but... you're right, avoiding all this just makes it worse. I mean, it was a cat, I shouldn't have tried to hide it." His offered apology is sweet, genuine, but she still just sighs, gulping down a breath through the emotions tightening her chest.
"I hate this, Chuck," she murmurs after a moment. He tenses in front of her, holding her a tiny bit tighter as he clearly misunderstands, and she quickly follows up. "I hate not knowing what I've forgotten. I just want to remember you."
More than anything, she wants to. He is the best part of her life, an incredible, loving blessing in all this hazy, hurting mess, and she knows that's exactly what he's always been to her. A gift. And she just wants to be enough. She wants to remember.
He swallows, reaching up and cupping her face so softly, so gentle like always.
"Baby, I'm right here. I know the memories being gone hurts, so much, but I'm still here, we're here. Maybe you can't remember things we did, but we're here for things we're doing, what we'll do in the future."
"I know." Sighing, she lets the idea of that future warm her a little, at least. "And I love that, I love you, I want all of that future, but I still- I want to remember everything, even... stupid crap like if you're allergic to cats."
"Hey, it wasn't that stupid when my allergies almost took down a mission."
"I know, you sneezed over a tiger," she says, off-hand, but he freezes, and she meets his gaze just before realization hits. "Oh."
And just like that, he beams once more, nose crinkling so adorably in the way she loves.
"You remembered."
She did. It just rushed back to her, a silly memory of an argument about tigers, having to steal a collar, Chuck messing around with a whip... Though she doesn't remember having the Intersect, she thinks that, judging by the funny expression Chuck gets whenever he flashes, the sudden rush of information he's able to spout in seconds, maybe getting her memories back is a little like that, like a flash. Just like that, she can recall something she didn't know, or remember, before.
And she remembered this.
"I did." she breathes, letting it wash over her, and Chuck smiles at her, so proud.
"Just this morning we were freaking out because you hadn't remembered anything in a week, but you remembered that."
She beams the same as him, proud of herself, too, but then she recalls what brought back the memory and she can't help but giggle.
"Only because you sneezed so loudly the earth moved." He sends her a flat look, but she just laughs more, can't help but tease him. "It was like, volcanic, Chuck! It was so loud!"
He keeps up the act, frowning at her amusement, and then pouts a little, feigning hurt.
"I'm very allergic."
"I know, I know," she soothes, moving forward and cupping his cheeks, planting a kiss on his grumpy pouting lips. "I do now, anyway."
Smirking, he kisses her again in return before sobering a little as he pulls back. His eyes catch hers, deliberately, intent.
"We'll get through this, Sarah," he says, serious. "Even if it takes the equivalent of a chubby, suuuper fluffy cat- like, half of him is still on your jeans over there- on our balcony every time, we'll get through this. Things'll come back."
His words are so sincere, his expression so resolved, she can just feel his conviction, how much he truly believes that. Despite herself, the logical side of her, the part that lived through the destruction the spy life brings, lived this life and had it stolen from her so easily, his certainty makes her believe him, too. They'll get through this.
"Mmhm," she hums in agreement, smiling at him without thought. And she repeats the thing she realized back on that beach, the thing she's reassured by most, every day in this strange recovery, this growth. "And even if not everything comes back... I still have you."
He softens, leaning in once more.
"Always, baby. Always."
And then he kisses her again, deeper this time, more intense and determined, stealing her breath. She lets herself muse on how he's far too talented at that, but then he trails his lips down her neck, and rational musings become a lot harder to form. As he pulls her in, slips his arms around her waist to hold her, strong and warm, she falls into him, loses herself in his touch, and it's not long before her new jeans find themselves on the floor beside her old pair, anyway.
When there's a persistent cat back on their patio a few hours later, soaking up the last of the sun, she knows even Chuck with his allergies is grateful for the fluffy thing, and the memories it brought back with it, too.
note: that's it, short and sweet and completely not groundbreaking because hey, world's on fire. pointless fluff is my saviour. i might be around again soon-ish, but either way, stay safe, y'all.