The Model Agent
By SarahsSupplyCloset
Author's Note: Thanks for the kind notes! Except for those of you who didn't leave kind notes and instead went out of your way to be pernicious and insulting in your notes, you lot can kick rocks.
Summary: Sarah Walker's modeling career is in its budding stages when the CIA recruits her into their ranks at 16. 10 years later, she's balancing being a world famous supermodel and actress with spying for the CIA. Her existence is fraught with danger and she's constantly on the go, until she meets a disarmingly sincere man on the beach...and her life is changed forever.
Disclaimer: I do not own CHUCK. I am not making any money writing this story.
Chuck was surprised when he was the one who woke up alone this time.
Sarah had wanted to go to the rooftop garden last night, to see it at night, so they'd clandestinely hopped into the back of her car, Casey had driven them to Chuck's building, and they'd snuck up to his place.
They'd buried themselves in his bed and in each other until the sun set, and once it was dark out, he led her back up that staircase to the garden on the rooftop. She'd forgotten a proper coat, so he'd wrapped her up in one of his. And they stood there side by side in the frigid cold looking out over the city, surrounded by plants she could apparently name just as easily if she'd been a full-fledge botanist.
That had been a surprise. And not just because she was some sort of runway model who'd appeared in multiple action & adventure films. It would've surprised him if she'd been a barista at a coffee shop or an accountant.
Last night, they'd spent quite a long time up there in the New York City nighttime cold, Sarah in front of him, his arms wrapped around her from behind, embracing her, pulling her in tight against his chest.
It had felt so good. It had felt right. Their bodies fit together so perfectly like that. And he couldn't help dwelling on how much he loved how big and floppy his coat had been on her form.
The cold had finally gotten to the "California boy", as she'd labeled him, laughing at him. So they'd wandered carefully back down to his condo, and after a few stiff drinks, she'd dragged him back to bed and warmed him right up.
Chuck blinked his eyes open now, in the morning, and smiled, reaching out to feel the other side of the bed where she'd fallen asleep. The indentation in the mattress was cold to the touch, which meant she hadn't left all that recently.
And before he would get up to look for her, he let himself remember the night before. He wondered if it was just that she'd been cold and was trying to warm herself up, but she'd gotten a little wild, and he'd fed off of it. To the point where he wasn't exactly sure when he'd fallen asleep, or how…just that he eventually had, after an unprecedented amount of the best sex he'd ever had in his life.
The CEO realized he didn't have to get up and look to see if she'd maybe gone into the kitchen for coffee or a drink, or was maybe staring out of the large window in the other room, the way he'd done the morning before when it was still dark out.
Because he saw a little note propped on the pillow. That meant she'd gone somewhere. Back to her place, perhaps. A photoshoot maybe. Damn.
She wouldn't leave him a note if she was going out to the kitchen to make some coffee.
Chuck reached over and plucked it from the pillow, yawning as he flopped back against his own pillow and held the note above him, unfolding it.
"Chuck, Sorry to leave you alone this morning. Hope you weren't too cold. (WINK) I guess I really am a workaholic after all. Got pulled into an early morning meeting about a potential movie role. Hopefully this one doesn't require me to act with a scorpion on my leg like the last one." There was a heart and she'd signed her name in a beautiful cursive scrawl beside it. And underneath: "P.S. Guess I'm a leave a note on the pillow kind of girl."
He sighed, allowing himself a bit of disappointment. He was sort of bereft. His flight was leaving tonight, and he realized that he'd been expecting to spend this last day in New York City with her.
Chuck didn't begrudge Sarah for getting pulled away for a potential role. Of course that took precedence over staying in bed with a guy she'd bumped into a handful of times and spent a few days enjoying a romantic liaison with. The woman had her priorities right. Like she said, she had to stay on her toes 24/7 and jump on every opportunity to have longevity in her career.
The tech CEO couldn't help wondering what it would feel like to live life the way she was living hers. What could it have felt like for her to practically grow up in this business? In those years when words that were critical about your looks felt like a jagged knife to the gut, razor sharp, cutting, monumental. To have had her face on magazines when she was still practically a teenager. He couldn't imagine having the strength to go through all of that himself and still have his head on his shoulders as squarely as she had her head on her shoulders.
She was a marvel.
And more than anything, Chuck hoped to whatever higher power was listening that Sarah Walker endured in this business, if that was what she truly wanted. But he also put some thoughts out there in hopes somebody might protect her in the meantime. Not that she couldn't protect herself. But there was something about her, about the way she acted with him, and some of the things she said, the quietude in her, the tentativeness, that made him think she was alone in this existence. Very alone.
Not exactly the outward, literal aloneness as surrounded as she probably was by people as a supermodel and actress. But the deep inner aloneness.
He wouldn't do her the disrespect of assuming she was lonely, though. Maybe she was, maybe she wasn't.
But he was pretty sure she was alone.
She hadn't mentioned family or friends much. Just the one friend who'd called about the potential double date.
He told himself to stop thinking about that. To stop making assumptions about her and about her life. He didn't know her, he didn't know what her existence entailed. Even the things she'd decided to tell him about her life over the last few days didn't give him any real perception of what it was like to be Sarah Walker, THE Sarah Walker.
There wasn't anyone on Earth who knew what it was like to be Sarah Walker except for Sarah Walker.
And he wasn't doing her the disrespect of tossing pity in her direction, like he knew anything about her or her life, like his life was somehow so much better than hers.
He knew how embarrassing it was, but he still clutched her note to his chest, his eyelids fluttering shut, and he rolled over onto her side of the bed where she'd fallen asleep and took a deep breath.
Chuck Bartowski was sunk.
Like the Titanic, he sat at the bottom of the ocean, so sunk he was practically in one of those terrifying trenches with all of those crazy fish with the glowing lights attached to their antennas. Except that this trench wasn't so terrifying. In fact, it had strawberries with warm, melted chocolate. And the sensations he'd felt when she'd "accidentally" spilled a few drops of it on his abdomen and promptly lowered herself to oh so slowly lick it off. And how they'd laughed together when they'd tried to sexily share a strawberry and it fell out of their mouths, cascading down onto the white sheets and making a terrifying potentially staining red pattern along them. How eagerly she'd helped him try to dab at the red marks on the sheets from the strawberry juice, even as she'd laughed at him.
There were endless things in this trench of his that made his sinking well worth it.
But the fact was that he was still sunk. And he had a feeling she was still bobbing along on the surface, unbothered.
He didn't know why he felt this way. She wasn't aloof or cold in any way. But he still felt like he was way more intense than whatever these last few days were warranted. And he needed to take some deep breaths to calm himself down.
This had the potential to be monumental, what they'd started here a few days ago. Or more appropriately, what they'd started however many days ago on that beach in LA. When she'd bumped him with a surfboard in the ocean.
This had awakened something inside of him, that day, and the days that followed, the nights of standing in a greenhouse, on balconies, in hotel vending rooms, on rooftops. He hadn't been lacking in much before he met Sarah Walker, but he realized now that he'd met her, that there was one thing he had been missing in his life. Release.
And not just the sexual kind, as fantastic as that release had also been for him these past few days.
He'd received an emotional release. A mental release. She'd allowed him to direct his mind, his emotions, his body in a direction that was wholly different from where it was usually directed 24/7: his work. And she'd allowed him to be more of himself than he allowed himself to be since he put his nose to the grind to get NTI up and running years ago.
Sarah had pulled him out of the workaholic mire. She'd given him a safe space to unwind and relax.
Chuck Bartowski had needed this release so badly, and he hadn't even remotely understood just how badly until right at this moment, still tangled in the covers of his bed. She'd given him exactly what he'd needed this weekend.
He could only hope that he'd been even a small percentage as good for her as she'd been for him.
And he hoped her leaving for that meeting this morning wasn't the end of it. The last page. Was that book closed now? The story over?
No.
That would be too short of a story, anyway. More like a…vignette. He didn't want this to be a vignette in his life, damn it.
He would call her. He'd give her time to finish her business with this potential movie role, and then he'd call and see how it went. He was floating too high to ponder how much of a boyfriend move that would be, checking on her and asking how a meeting went. He just wanted to talk to her, to see how she was, but also because he wanted to see her at least once more before he had to leave for Los Angeles tonight.
Chuck let himself slip back into a semi-slumber and finally got out of bed two hours later, enjoying his coffee, ignoring the intense craving he had for strawberries and chocolate because it would bring him back to thinking about what she'd done to him yesterday afternoon and what she'd allowed him to do to her. It was safe to say he'd never tasted melted gourmet chocolate off of another person's body before yesterday, the way her body had gone rigid when he'd dripped it on her breast and covered it with his mouth and tongue.
Damn it, he was thinking about it again.
Shaking his head, he gave himself a few minutes to get back to breathing properly, drank some ice water, and he grabbed his phone, pulling up her number and looking down at it. He finally hit call.
And he waited.
And waited.
And waited some more, the ringing in his ear, over and over and over. And then came her voice, warm and dripping like honey. "You've reached the cell phone of Sarah Walker. Please leave me a message with your name and a phone number I can call to reach you. Thanks." But then there was a pause, and, "The voicemail inbox you have reached is full—"
Chuck hung up, groaning. Of course her voicemail box was full. She was the most sought after runway model on the planet, for all he knew. He still hadn't Googled, as many times as he'd come close to just biting the bullet and doing it. But they made a pact. And he was sticking to it.
After eating and going for a run, he checked his phone again and saw a text from Ellie: "Hey, I know you have a meeting early tomorrow, but how about lunch now that you're gonna be back in town? Do I get to see my brother sometime this year? What do you think?" She added a silly face emoji to the end of it.
He took a super fast shower and dressed in jeans and a button-up, before grabbing his phone even as he scrubbed at his hair with the towel. Sarah still hadn't called back, which wasn't that surprising, he supposed. Instead of texting Ellie with an answer, he called her.
She answered on the second ring.
"Well, hello!"
He chuckled. "Hi, Ellie. You sound chipper today."
"I am chipper today, so that's probably why."
"What's made you so chipper? Or is it just one of those chipper days?"
"A little of both, actually. Devon and I just got back from an early morning hike and we actually get an entire day to ourselves, our days off actually overlapping for once without us having to use vacation time, and I guess that's just making me feel good."
Chuck smiled, looking out over New York City through his window. "Oh, that's nice. You both deserve that."
"I agree. We do. So…?"
Snorting, he leaned his shoulder against the glass. "I called because I miss you, actually, and I wanted to talk to you for a bit. But also, I wanted to let you know that I am free for lunch tomorrow. I'll be tired as hell probably, but if you can't deal with tired-as-hell-Chuck, nobody on the planet can. So. Sorry. Deal."
She made an awwww sound. "I miss you too, brother. And I can absolutely deal with tired Chuck. We managed all through high school when both of us were constantly exhausted, I think I can manage a tired lunch. I might even be tired myself."
"Oh, perfect," he chuckled.
"So how were these last few days of not having to do work things?"
Chuck shut his eyes and sighed, a grin stretching over his face. He couldn't help the flashes of images in his brain from their escapades with the chocolate and strawberries. He'd never done anything like that before ever in his life and it had sent him into another universe. His heart raced every time he was reminded that he'd actually participated in that. Gladly participated. Desperately, even.
"Oh God, it felt so good," he grumbled.
"Damn. You sound like the cat who got the cream." He heard curiosity in her voice, and he realized he needed to maybe do a bit of a cover up now. Damn it, this would be hard, not telling people about it. "Just a few days of no work and you sound like that? You really needed a vacation. Jesus. What'd you do that felt so good?"
He definitely didn't want to tell her the whole truth there, so he only gave her a half truth.
"Literally just lying around, eating, lying around some more, eating some more. I did go for a jog this morning. And, uh, I'll probably just chill until I have to skip off to the plane again."
"Took the private jet, huh?"
"Yes." He sighed. "I know, I know. I know the private jet thing is so douchey but skipping the heinous crowds at JFK just sounds like what I need right now."
"I didn't say you're a douche. You worked your ass off your whole life against shitty barriers and hurdles and now you have the money to hire a private jet when you want to, so do it. Not a great carbon footprint, but it isn't like you travel 24/7." She was very resolute about defending him. He knew she got huffy with people who said things about "billionaires" now that her beloved brother was one, and he had to explain to her that what they said about billionaires was right and that she didn't have to get defensive with people just because of him. He agreed with them and was actively trying to take measures to help change the way things benefited people like him drastically more than the average Joe.
But still, he couldn't help loving her for it, too. That protective older sister of his. He knew he could get married and start a family someday, and she'd still be the protective Eleanor Bartowski that she was when they were teenagers, going to bat for him with school administrators, taking extra jobs to keep him fed and clothed, etc.
"Well, don't take too many naps today, okay? You have to sleep on that plane, since you have an early meeting in the morning and won't be able to sleep before it, I'm assuming."
"I know," he said, smirking. "Thanks, sister-mom."
"Stop it," she snapped. "You know I hate when you call me that. I sound like some sort of creepy back-woods LDS bigamist."
He cracked up. "I'm sorry, you're right. I'll try to keep that out of my vocabulary."
"Thank you," she snipped. "Anyway, I'll text you about tomorrow later. Don't worry about any of that, just chill and be safe and all that. And I'll see you in 24 hours."
"You will! Love you, sis. Thanks for giving me a good reason to go back home after this stellar vacation."
"Oh, I'll always be here to provide ample reasons why you should always come back home," she said warmly. "Even when you don't want them." Chuck laughed. "Love you, Chuck. See ya soon."
They both hung up and his spirits felt a lot more buoyed than they had before he spoke to his sister. She was good at lifting his spirits. But she was also really good at reminding him that his life was kind of great. He had plenty to be grateful for. Ellie supporting him, but most importantly supporting his dreams, when they were growing up, was exactly why he was standing here now. Why his descendants wouldn't have to worry about money for generations now.
If he ever had descendants.
What with how serious Ellie and Awesome were in their relationship now, he imagined Ellie would reach that milestone well before he did. Though he'd never say anything to her about it. Whoops.
Chuck's spirits had been lifted enough now, actually, that he didn't want to just chill and lie around today. He wanted to seek out opportunities in the city.
Well, no he didn't. Not really.
What he actually wanted to do was to seek out a specific opportunity. A specific person, really. He was leaving tonight, and he wanted to be with her before that.
So he grabbed his jacket, put on his sneakers, shoved his wallet, keys, and phone into his pockets, and headed out, slipping onto a subway train towards where he knew her hotel was.
He took his sweet time, walking slowly, buying himself a piece of pizza from one of those epic corner one-slice shops. And then he bought two smoothies and hurried his pace after that, not wanting them to get too watery before he arrived.
Chuck did his best to go unnoticed as he slipped into the elevator and took it up to her floor where the executive suite was. And he idly waited in the hallway, sipping his own smoothie as he waited for a staff person wheeled a cart past. He didn't want anyone seeing him going to the executive suite, in case they knew THE Sarah Walker was staying in said suite.
He knew Sarah would be very unhappy with him if word got out that she was seeing someone in those crappy tabloids.
Finally alone, he rushed to the suite's double doors and knocked, looking both ways down the hallway. "Come on, come on, come on," he muttered under his breath, tapping his foot nervously.
And then he heard shuffling, a curse, and the door was unlocked and opened. Sarah gawked at him, dressed in a black cami and jean capris, dressed in not enough clothing for how chilly it was outside, he decided. But that didn't matter. What mattered was she was favoring one of her feet or her leg or something and she had a bag of ice in her hand.
"What happened…?"
"Chuck, what're you…?"
They both spoke at the same time, both of them stopping as they realized it. And he chuckled as she ducked her head with a bit of a blush, smirking.
"Um, can I come in? I feel very exposed out here," he said quietly and her eyes went wide. She hobbled backwards and pulled the door open, grabbing him with the ice-holding hand and yanking him inside. "Oh. Uh…"
She shut and locked the door securely, then turned to face him again. "Good point. Yeah."
"What happened to your, uh, is it your foot? Or…?"
"Oh. That. I'm fine." He just stared at her and she shifted her weight with a wince. "My, um, ankle. Just a little twist. Not a big deal. I'll be fine tomorrow."
"How'd you do this in just the few hours since you left my place?" he asked her, kneeling down to put the smoothies on the floor and gently brushing his fingers over her ankle with a feather touch. It was cold, but he didn't feel any bad swelling or anything at least.
"Oh, it's silly. That-That, um, meeting with the casting director this morning." He looked up at her, his fingers still resting on the top of her bare foot. "They had me do a running scene and I was in a pair of heels that were too high for it and I kind of just twisted it a little."
"Jesus, you're a badass." He grabbed the smoothies and stood to his full height again and she gave him a WTF look. "After our first date, you had those bruises on your side from stunts. Now you have a twisted ankle from a stunt. You're just…tough as nails. It's awesome. Not that you got hurt, but just-just that you're so hands on. Stunt doubles are usually the ones with the bruises and twisted ankles."
She smiled at him, but it didn't seem to reach her eyes somehow. Perhaps it was something she'd perfected in her line of work, smiling even if she didn't particularly feel like it, to win hearts, to impress people, to make connections. He admired her for it. But at the moment, he could see through it too. "Ah. Yeah. I'm…tough when I wanna be."
But then she looked at him solidly and gave her head a bit of a shake. "What are you doing here? Did you…see my note?"
"Oh." He cleared his throat. "Yeah. Yes. I did. Thank you. I would've been kind of confused without it. That was thoughtful of you."
"Sorry I bailed so early, I just got that text late last night and I guess I missed it for, um, obvious reasons." She blushed, even as she gave him a bit of a salacious look. He adored that combination in her blue eyes and the tilt of her mouth.
"Oh no that's okay. I um…" He swallowed hard, because he was only just now realizing that the note hadn't said "Call me" or "I'll talk to you later" or "I'll call you later." There was nothing signifying that she wanted to contact him today, or that she wanted him to contact her. And here he'd just shown up at her door out of the blue. With smoothies.
Maybe she was shocked to see him here because she hadn't expected a continuation. She hadn't expected to see him again before he left. This morning was the end of it, as far as she was concerned.
And he was suddenly very embarrassed. Had she even expected to see him again? Ever? Or had this just been some kind of weekend of utter bliss, and then they'd both go back to their respective lives?
Shit. He felt so foolish.
He stared down at the smoothies for a long time.
"I probably should've left it at the note, huh?" he asked quietly, narrowing his eyes in a wince. "I think my head's out of the clouds and my feet are on the ground finally and I'm seeing how this little stunt of mine must look to you. Yeah. Not great. Um, I should apologize for just showing up like this."
Her eyebrows went up and she tilted her head. "What? Chuck, no, I didn't—Oh." Realization came over her and there was a softening of her features. "I'm surprised you're here, Chuck, but not in a bad way. Not in a bad way at all. I just figured you're leaving tonight and you have a lot of stuff you have to do. I thought you'd be busy, so I was staying out of your hair."
Chuck couldn't help the surprised chuckle that came out of him. It was like a bubble in his chest had popped and the chuckle came out almost like gas, like a burp. A chuckle burp. What the fuck was wrong with his brain?
"Oh, Sarah Walker, I don't want you out of my hair." He made a face then, realizing how that sounded as she laughed. "Uh…"
"Well, that's easily the cutest thing anyone's ever said to me. Like, seriously sweet and goofy, but mostly sweet." She beamed at him.
Chuck shook his head and took a deep breath. Because he actually had something to say, something important, something he'd been thinking about standing in that subway car, swaying back and forth as he gripped onto the leather strap to keep himself upright. "That…was not really what I was intending to say right there. But it's true I guess. So there's that."
And then he realized she was still standing there, her left knee cocked to relieve her left ankle and all of her weight on the right foot. "Can we sit? I feel bad. Your ankle. And I have you just standing here for no reason."
"Oh. Right. I should probably stay off this, huh? You want something to drink first?"
"No. No, no, I'm-I'm good. I brought you one of these. Strawberry. I didn't know what flavor to get you and then I realized I know you like strawberries now. Because…um…right…that. Yesterday. Uh." He was getting nervous now and he could feel it showing. He was fidgeting. "Let's just sit."
She gave him a bit of a dubious look as she took the smoothie. "Okay. Um, thanks for the smoothie." That got him a knowing look, her eyes sparkling.
As she led him towards the overstuffed couch, he saw a wince on her face as she put pressure on her bad ankle. He hurried up behind her and gently took her arm, lifting it to rest over his shoulders and sidling up close to her left side. "Oh. Hi," she hummed, smiling warmly at him.
"Or I could just carry you. I didn't want to just dive in and swoop you up into my arms without permission, though."
Sarah cocked an eyebrow and the smile became a smug smirk. "Could've fooled me, Prince Charming." He blinked at her as he helped her back to the couch. "Get it? Like, you've swept me up with your charms? Never mind. I'm clearly not as good at the goofy sappy one-liners as you are."
"I dunno," he chuckled, "At the end of the day, I gotta say that's probably a good thing, Sarah." She laughed. "But for the record, it was pretty freaking cute."
"Oh great," she snarked sarcastically as he helped her sit on the couch. He plopped down next to her and watched as she gingerly bent her left leg and wedged her foot uncomfortably against the back of the couch to be able to hold the ice on her injured ankle while still looking at him.
They set their smoothies to the side and looked at each other.
Chuck reached over to wrap a gentle hand around her left calf, carefully stretching out her leg and lifting it, lowering her aching ankle onto his lap slowly. He took the ice from her hand as she gaped at him and he laid it against the ankle. "Better?"
She just smiled quietly, a shy look on her face. "Yes. Thank you."
"So um, about the get you out of my hair thing…um…" Sarah nodded, still quiet. She had her hands braced on the couch cushions behind her, her body frigid, almost a little uncomfortable. And he wondered if she felt trapped, knowing he was about to say stuff she couldn't escape from. She couldn't escape while sitting like this with a bum ankle that he currently had pinned to his lap, one hand holding the ice to the painful area, the other gently stroking her shin under his fingers. He really hoped she didn't feel trapped. He didn't know how to make her feel less trapped. Because she actually was sort of trapped, wasn't she? "I'm leaving for LA tonight. I was hoping I could at least see you one more time before I left, which is why I came. Sorry I didn't ask first. That still feels like a miscalculation on my part."
"It's okay," she said, shaking her head, a reassuring smile on her otherwise tentative features.
"I did call but your voicemail inbox is full."
She groaned, rolling her eyes. "That stupid freaking phone. Something is clogging it."
"Too many voicemails?" he asked, raising an eyebrow.
Sarah glared at him and he winced. "No, I mean, it's not letting me log in with the password to access my voicemail so that I can clear my inbox. Or whatever. And I just got so busy, I never got around to figuring that shit out. So I'm sorry."
"I can do it. I can fix it for you. Today, in fact. I can do it right now even. Where's your phone? I can…" He realized he'd offered to help her and change the subject way too easily, and she'd seen right through him too, a quiet and knowing smile on her face. He cleared his throat and slumped a little against the back of the couch. "Well, erm, we could just do that later and I can actually talk to you instead."
"What is it, Chuck?" she prompted when he didn't say anything else for a good 20 seconds.
He sighed. Here went nothing.
Or really everything.
"I want to call you when we're both back in LA." Chuck turned to look at Sarah, meeting her blue eyes, watching them widen a little. "I want to see you again. I don't want to leave New York tonight and then just leave it at that, and not see you again. Especially since we're both based in LA." Taking another deep breath, he looked straight ahead at the TV, and he could just barely make out his own silhouette in the reflection from the screen. Jesus, he was going out on a limb here. "I don't know how you feel about it, about me, about us. If this is something you want to see going somewhere. And I want you to feel like you can be honest with me. I just want honesty. If that's not something you're interested in, I mean continuing this in LA, just tell me. I'll find a way to suck it up and-and understand. I just…" He sighed and looked at her. "I really like you. And I know vacation is ending so this is all gonna look super different and maybe it'll even feel super different, but I want to try anyway. I don't know what it'll become, but I really dig how it's started." He winced. "That was…I'm an idiot. But the sentiment remains," he said as she giggled quietly.
She was silent for a very long 30 seconds, and then she smiled slowly and crooked her finger at him. "Come over here, Chuck."
"Oh." He blinked, and then he moved to crawl towards her but froze. "Wait but—Your ankle."
"It's not that bad," she said with a shrug. "Just be careful."
Nodding, he gently crawled out from under her foot and made his way towards her, wrapping his arms around her and letting her pull him down to lie on top of her as she draped herself over the couch. He reached up to fix the pillow under her head and she smiled her thanks up at him.
Both arms wrapped around his shoulders, she began to play with his curls idly between two of her fingers.
"You have no idea how crazy this is," she said quietly, looking up into his eyes steadily. She nibbled on her lip seriously. "I-I can't promise you anything. I don't know when I'm going to have time, if I'll have time, how often I'll be in Los Angeles even if it is my home, whether a vacation like this will ever happen again, let alone anytime soon."
Chuck felt an ache in his chest at that, and it must've shown on his face because she immediately slipped the hand that had been playing with his hair down to stroke his jaw. "So what you're saying is this was sort of a one-off? A really, really beautiful, incredible one-off?"
"Yeah," she said quietly, shrugging. Her hand cupped his face then and she steered his eyes back to hers. He swallowed the lump in his throat. "But in spite of all of that, in spite of this—these last few days in New York—probably not being able to be replicated anytime soon, if ever, is this really something you would want to try? Seeing each other still, I mean?"
His heart was racing as he immediately answered. "Yes. Definitely. In any capacity. Whatever capacity."
Her smile grew slowly. "Really? I am not an easy person to be with. I'm constantly traveling…"
"Me, too. I have to travel a lot. Probably not as much as you, because my company's based in LA, but I-I do travel."
"My schedule can be nuts to the point where I disappear off the face of the earth, practically. You might try to reach me a bajillion times and I won't get back to you for days on end."
"Okay," he said, nodding. "I'll be patient. I'll just wait. You're busy." He shrugged.
Sarah giggled. "Easier said than done, Chuck. You forget, I've dated men before, and they said similar things when I told them what dating a girl like me entails." She tilted her head. "Although your delivery is top notch, way more meltworthy than theirs were."
He grinned down at her, arms tightening around her body. He sobered a little. "Sarah, I mean it. I'm not gonna pretend I know what this is going to entail, or that I understand what it's like to live your life. I don't. Maybe I never will. But you're worth whatever hurdles our crazy schedules throw in our way."
She shifted her head against the pillow so that she was peering up at him through her eyelashes. "Are you sure?" Before he could immediately answer, she pressed her finger against his lips, stopping him. "Really sure, Nerd Company Guy." His heart fluttered at the nickname. "Because we're-we're going to need some ground rules." She winced. "Sorry, I want to make sure I warn you about how this'll be. Dating me isn't gonna be like dating a real girl, Chuck."
"You're the realest girl I've ever met in my life, Sarah." She seemed to melt again at that. "What's more, you make me feel real, too. Your life might look a little different—Okay a lot different," he amended with a chuckle as she sent him a flat look. "But that doesn't make you any less real. And I don't care about other girls, I'm dating you, not them. Give me rules. I can handle rules. I can do the rules thing. Bring it on."
Sarah laughed, shaking her head. "You're so intense."
"I know. Sorry." He blushed.
"It's invigorating. And terrifying, if I can be honest with you." His eyes widened a bit. "But it's also hot and I don't understand why I find it so attractive on you when it also makes me want to sprint out of that door and never come back. I'm a little at a loss, Chuck. That's the truth of it."
He nodded, extracting himself from her embrace and sitting up. She sat up too, a questioning look on her face. He took a deep breath and nodded again, determined. Adrenaline was coursing through him. "Okay, here's the bottom line, Sarah Walker. I think we can do this. And I'm really trying not to be intense. I'm trying. Because it can start out with something as easy as hanging out again when you come back to LA in a few days. Or whenever you have time. The two of us having dinner. Easy. And we go from there. I just want a chance to see what this is. Because there is something here. There's been something here from the start. Out on that beach. I felt it. I still do. Except there's more of it now. I don't know what I'm saying." He shook his head, frustrated with himself. "But I want to know if you want to do this, too. Not just because I'm being a lot right now and you feel like you have to give me a certain answer. I want to know the truth. How you actually feel. Do you want to try? Do you want to see if this goes anywhere? Even if it will be super different from what it's been the last few days?"
"Yes," she said, nodding. And he was too shocked by how quick and easy her answer was to even smile.
+ —
Sarah covered his mouth with hers in a desperate attempt to swallow up the fear that was coursing through her. She'd been looking the point of no return straight in its brown eyes with the golden flecks swimming around in them. And she'd crossed over it, waving as she went.
As if this wasn't the craziest, stupidest thing she'd ever done. As if she wasn't exceptionally selfish for snatching him up like this. When she absolutely knew it would be harder than he could possibly imagine.
It wasn't just her modeling and acting schedule he'd be competing against. It was all of these clandestine missions she took on as a CIA agent, too. Leaving at a moment's notice, like she had with Casey this morning. It was supposed to be a tail job, but Sarah'd twisted her ankle during the getaway portion once he'd found out he was being tailed. Thankfully she was excellent with disguises, and the ankle wasn't actually that bad anymore.
This was doomed before it even began, the way all of her relationships were, when she thought to herself "I can do this!" at the beginning, simply because she wanted to do it. As if that made all the problems go away. Granted, her fame had been what ended up destroying those relationships, though the schedule and the sneaking around and lying hadn't helped at all. "Where were you last night?" "I meant to be there but something came up." "I heard you come in at 3 am this morning and go right for the shower." "Just another late shoot, that's all." She heard how much those excuses sounded like lies and she couldn't blame any of them. But she could blame them for the way they'd used her to make themselves famous. The death knell of every relationship she'd ever had.
The fear made her kiss Chuck Bartowski even harder. She was just so crazy about him. And he was stunningly honest and genuine and intense. She wanted him so badly. She wanted him in her life. She wanted this man who'd wordlessly picked up her injured foot and cradled it in his lap, putting the ice on it. Like taking care of her was second nature to him.
God, the thought of having a man like him around was so intoxicating. He was intoxicating. His kiss was especially intoxicating.
But he broke the kiss, panting as he cupped her face, a breathless grin on his own handsome face. "Really? You really want to try?" She nodded, a bubble in her chest rising, fit to burst. She didn't know what she'd be capable of once it did burst. "So what you're saying is…I can call you sometime…?"
She giggled and nodded again.
There was so much left to say, she had things she needed him to know, but right at that moment, he was pressed against her, and she needed to feel him. So she grappled with his shirt buttons, getting them undone as quickly as she could, before she pushed the shirt off of him, over his broad shoulders and down his long arms.
She went straight for the front of his pants then. And she found she was so desperate, the button kept slipping from between her fingers. Chuck must've picked up on it, because he broke the kiss, grinning down at her as he gently pushed her fingers away and undid his pants for her.
Sarah didn't pause, immediately pushing her hand inside and cupping him over his boxers.
"Oh my God," he whimpered, arching his hips against her touch. He buried his face under her jaw and kissed her neck, the crook of her shoulder, her collarbone. And as she began to rub her hand up and down over his member, he pushed his hand under the loose material of her camisole and cupped her breast underneath, making her so glad she'd decided to forego the bra today after getting back from the near thing that had been this morning's mission.
Within minutes, neither of them had even a shred of clothing on, his large hands moving over her body as he attached his mouth to her breast. There wasn't any chocolate this time, no strawberries. They'd ditched their smoothies off to the side. The air around them wasn't playful, either. It crackled with pure lust, absolutely, but there was something new there, too.
She felt like the carelessness, the devil-may-care attitude that they'd been diving into this sexual attachment of theirs with these last few days was gone. They'd cemented the idea that there would be something after this, after they left NYC and ended up back in LA. As much as Chuck had tried his hardest to take the intensity out of it, and he was so sweet for trying as hard as he did, she could feel how intense it was. It was more intense now. Nothing about this was chill. Had it ever been? Or had she just fooled herself into thinking it was? Two young people, caught up in the romance of a string of random meet cutes, falling into bed together again and again and again and again. No strings. No attachments. Just really great sex.
That had been a mirage.
There were strings.
She was so fucking attached.
Nearly every part of her was screaming for her to put a stop to this, that it would only lead to unending waves of hurt, or worse, full-on heartbreak. Like she'd never felt before. He deserved better, a woman who would bend over backwards to make his life fuller, to support him, to fit into his world. He deserved a woman who didn't lie to him, that was a big one.
And then there was one very loud part of Sarah Walker that was insisting she constantly did what others told her to do. SHE bent over backwards for the CIA, the NSA, for Casey, for Tyler, for photographers, magazine editors, directors, producers, Graham and Beckman, and anyone else who requested insane amounts of her time and energy, without giving much else to her in return. For once, she deserved to take what she wanted. She would give back as much of herself as she possibly could to Chuck Bartowski. She would try.
That was what he was asking for, wasn't it?
For her to try.
God, she would try so hard.
He gently shifted his hips and entered her, slowly, and she gasped, clinging to him, turning her face into his hair, her whole body quaking as he began to thrust inside of her.
He was worth the effort. So many things in her life weren't worth the effort, but survival in the modeling industry and her literal survival as a CIA agent required it. He would be worth finding the time, pining for him during a work trip, coming back and finding even just 5 minutes of time where they could hide away and just hold each other, hearing his voice, seeing his eyes do that thing they did when he looked at her, even just that small connection with this man would be so worth it.
She just knew it.
She raised her bad ankle up out of the way and braced her good heel against the opposite arm of the couch, holding onto him for dear life and arching herself up to meet his thrusts. They hovered over the cushions, hips pumping, fingers digging into skin, voices raising as their bodies teemed with mounting desperation.
She'd left this morning with such an ache in her chest. It had been torture, climbing out of his warm embrace, writing that note and leaving him behind. Because she really wasn't sure if she'd see him again. She had wanted to stay out of his way today, knowing he'd have to prep to leave town. And she knew their schedules weren't even remotely compatible.
She still knew it now.
And yet, he'd shown up and he'd said everything she felt in the deepest part of her heart. He'd asked her if she wanted this to continue even after this blissful handful of days was over and they were both plunged right back into their hectic lives. Neither of them knew whether said lives would have any real crossover, if their schedules might overlap again. But she'd said yes.
And here they were, tangled together on the couch of her hotel suite, climbing to the highest heights.
Sarah dragged her hand down the hard planes of his back, digging the heel of her palm into his skin, lower, lower still, until she closed her hand over the mound of his ass and squeezed. The sound he made coupled with the way his hips jerked hard sent a thrill through her body, and she kicked her right leg out, bracing her foot on the coffee table to try to push her weight against him and flip him onto his back. But the movement sent her left ankle into the back of the couch where Chuck's hip bumped it so that it was pinned there. The stab of discomfort crackled from her ankle up her leg and she let out a sharp, "AH!" and hissed in pain.
Chuck stopped immediately and shifted away from her ankle, eyes alert and wide. "Sarah, your ankle! I'm so sorry! I'm s—"
He made to get off of her completely but she grabbed him desperately, pulling him back. "No, no. It's okay. It's okay, Chuck."
"Sarah, I hurt you," he said, obviously concerned.
"No, you didn't." He gave her a flat look. "Okay, it hurt, yes, but that wasn't anything you did. C'mere," she panted, pulling his chest down against hers. "It's not that bad, Chuck."
"We don't have to do this right now, Sarah."
"Yes, we do," she rushed out, wrapping her arms around his torso.
"Not if it's gonna hurt your ankle."
"It's fine." She brushed her lips over his, breathing, "Keep going. Keep going, Chuck. The ankle's fine, I just need you. Please."
He groaned, pressing his lips to her chin and dragging them down her jaw. "I need you, but I don't—I don't want to hurt you, Sarah."
"You aren't. Please. Keep going."
She was starting to gyrate up against him. "You'll…tell me if it hurts…?"
Sarah nodded but she'd already moved on, sliding her hand down to his ass again and digging her nails in this time. Chuck must've gotten a satisfactory enough answer, because he began to thrust down into her a lot faster now, and with harder thrusts.
She just held onto him, clutching his ass in one hand, her other having to reach behind her head to brace herself against the arm of the couch.
Sarah squeaked out words of encouragement, holding her ankle up and out of the way. It still ached but she ignored it as best she could. It was easy enough to do when he was touching her like this, inside of her, his hips powerful and skilled.
She cursed as an orgasm spilled over her.
Chuck slowed down his thrusts, easing up just slightly and arching his back so that he could close his mouth around one of her nipples again, making her orgasm last.
They stayed wrapped together like that for some time, reaching new heights, their newfound understanding, the knowledge that this wouldn't be the end of it, that they were actually going to try together, making the sex feel like something completely different. Like something with meaning, longevity.
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