A/N: Oh my gosh, I'm just full of surprises. Thanks for all of the reviews you all pour into my work, this one especially...like, yikes, you're all great. It means a lot! But let's keep Dive going because...we all need this fluff, don't we? Like ... I really need it. So much. So. Much. So anyway, ENJOY!
Disclaimer: I don't own Chuck, or the characters, but I do own a frisbee, like any good ultimate frisbee player and fan would.
Chuck reached over to turn the shower off, still beaming just as hard as he'd been when he first stepped into it a few minutes earlier. He ruffled his hair and let out an ecstatic, quiet chuckle. Everything was perfect. Life was perfect. This vacation was perfect. His shower had been perfect. He was brimming.
He'd woken up that morning with a bit of extra weight on his abdomen. And then the weight had shifted onto his legs. He'd been confused at first, but then he'd opened his eyes slowly to stare up at the ceiling and figure out where he was. Then he'd glanced down to find a pair of very blue eyes, crackling with mischief, looking back up at him over the planes of his bare torso.
She'd fully shocked him by what she had done next. It had been so unexpected, and right after waking up, too. And she'd taken her sweet, sweet time as he melted into the bed and just let himself enjoy the sensations.
Eventually she'd crawled back up, and as breathless as he'd been after what she'd done to him, Chuck had felt he had no choice but to fully embrace the mood she'd woken up in.
With the way he'd woken up, and with how sudden her attentions had been—and intense, he had to admit—it was a wonder he'd been able to keep up with her at all. But it was her, and it was almost unconscious the way he put all of himself into pleasing her.
He'd finally decided to take a shower and he'd been ready to beg her to stay while he did so, even offering her room service breakfast—breakfast in bed, if she wanted. But she'd agreed easily enough, promising not to budge. He didn't even care if it was him or the breakfast she was staying for, because she was staying.
And now here he was, grinning so hard he reminded himself of the Joker as he caught his reflection in the mirror.
EWWW…Simmer down there, Chuck.
He rubbed the grin off of his face and shivered.
And then he toweled off, tying the towel around his waist and taking a clean hand towel to scrub at his hair as he walked out of the bathroom.
Chuck looked for her immediately and found she was still dozing in his bed, sprawled out over it diagonally on her back, still not wearing a single shred of clothing, the sheets twisted around her legs.
She looked like a painting, some eighteenth century nude portrait of the goddess of love, the way she seemed to just exude vibrancy, that stunning halo of golden hair spread over the white pillow, her skin tan and glowing in the morning sun spilling into the room. And, dare he even think it, she looked deliciously sated, if he did say so himself.
He thought maybe in his past life he must have saved a bunch of children from a burning hospital or something like that. It had to be a big thing, a really big thing. He had to have been an incredible human being—maybe even a saint or something.
Because there was no other explanation for why he was here, why this was his life, why she was in his bed. Looking like this. Being who she was, and doing it in his space. Where he could experience and enjoy every last bit of her.
She hummed as he shuffled into the room, then craned her neck to look at him. He tried not to have such a dreamy, sappy look on his face. "Good shower?" she asked.
"Amazing shower. Thank you."
"Oh, no no no." A satisfied smile spread over her perfect features. "Thank you. Stud."
"Oh, God." He cracked up and shook his head, unable to keep from blushing though as she laughed at herself, her tongue between her teeth as she dropped her head again and stared at the ceiling.
"I'm ravenous. You hungry?" he asked, changing the subject.
"Oh, I worked up quite an appetite."
Damn.
He spun to point at her, lowering his chin. "You stop that."
That made her laugh, and she finally pushed herself to sit up against the headboard. She must have noticed the way he quickly diverted his gaze from her body, because she made a quiet snort-like sound and pulled the sheets up to cover herself modestly.
Chuck was both relieved and disappointed. And she was definitely amused.
"What do you want? I'm thinking of getting a giant three-egg omelet that's chock-full of absolute garbage," he said, grabbing the menu from the table next to his bed.
Sarah giggled. "Chock-full of garbage, huh?"
"Chock-full of garbage. Like…I want the omelet to be bursting at the seams with potatoes and meat and cheese and vegetables. Just…bursting."
"You must've worked up an appetite, too," she teased, reaching up a hand. "C'mere and bring that menu with you."
"Yes, Madame Scuba Sarah."
She gave him a look as he closed the distance and crawled onto the bed next to her. His towel nearly came undone and he yelped, catching it and keeping it closed, blushing again. She merely gave him a small smirk, looking like she might laugh, but then she didn't, taking the menu from him and holding it between them.
"That looks like what you're talking about. An Everything Omelet."
"Oh good eye, Sarah. I'm set. Getting that, and some coffee, and some juice."
"Let's share a pineapple," she said, pointing to it on the menu.
"That's all you're eating?!"
The look she gave him was part affronted, part disgusted. "Who do you even think I am, Charles Bartowski of Los Angeles?" She snatched the menu from him altogether, looking down at it as she shook her head, a haughty look on her pretty face. "A pineapple… Honestly," she scoffed. "The California Eggs Benedict and a pineapple? More my style."
He held up a hand diplomatically. "I apologize for ever insinuating you would only eat half a pineapple for breakfast."
Sarah giggled and handed the menu back to him. "I forgive you. I mean, some days, depending on my appetite, I might just do a half of a grapefruit or some pineapple or something. But not after that much morning sex. Gotta get that energy back."
Chuck teasingly rolled his eyes to the back of his head and just slumped over as though he'd short-circuited, earning a beautiful laugh from his companion.
With Sarah having the day off, she didn't seem all too eager to clear out, and he spent the next few hours trying with all his might not to remind her that she had a home, a life across town. He meticulously made sure to make her feel welcome, without seeming needy as though he needed her to stay with him. It was a difficult balance. And he worked hard at it.
They stayed in bed, making breakfast last for quite some time as they talked. He told her about his rudimentary idea for a new game, a third person shooter in which you got to play as a shapeshifting sorcerer or sorceress. And she listened, asked questions, seemed intrigued, only teased him a few times about how much of a nerd he was—and even then it had been so good-natured, it made him laugh more than anything.
They finally set the trays aside and put the comfortable robes on again to sit out on the balcony in the beautiful mid-morning Kauai weather—Sarah's suggestion, and a good one. A really good one.
That's where Chuck found himself hours later, a few minutes before noon, his feet up on the railing, his arms falling over to either side of chair he was sprawled out on. A comfortable silence had settled between them and he let his eyes drift shut.
The night before, he'd made quick work of helping Morgan, easily resisting the urge to join in on another campaign with his best friend when he was asked to, because there was a little look on Sarah's face when she turned to him, one he would never be able to ignore even if he wanted to. He could tell he'd impressed her a little with how strategic and brilliant he'd been at helping Morgan. It was his own damn game. He knew what to do to win. But he didn't downplay his efforts, and he didn't admit it wasn't all that difficult for anyone to do if they knew the shortcuts. He took advantage of the scuba instructor's assumption that what he'd done required a good amount of skill.
And God, it was just a video game, but the look she'd given him when she dragged him to bed…
He hadn't even answered Morgan's request, the little request bubble sitting up on the screen still when Sarah hit power on the TV remote. It was pretty cute how she thought just turning of the TV meant everything was off, but he hadn't mentioned it. He'd just thought it.
The bearded one could figure out what had happened when he went a while with no answer to his request, he thought. He'd told him before that he was busy. And he said he'd only help him with that one level.
But the video game and their activities afterward had gone on late into the night, or rather…early into the morning. And Chuck found he was tired now. So tired. Especially after they'd continued where they left off upon waking up. He was so tired, but in the best, best way. There'd be no complaints from him about it.
Taking a little nap here, in the Kauai breeze, the midday sun starting to rise up over them, sounded perfect. And then…
"God, I need to do this more often."
Chuck opened one eye and turned his head towards her with a lazy loll. "Sit on some tourist dude you just met's suite balcony in a robe?"
She laughed. "Shut up. No." She glared. "I meant sitting out on my own patio in a robe. I'm just so up and at 'em all the time. It's in my nature. I wake up, get dressed for the day, or get into my wetsuit and hit the waves. I never really let myself just…chill. Laze about like this. And it's nice."
"You should let yourself do that," he said. "You live on a tropical island, Sarah." He beamed at her as she snorted. "I know it's not like the movies where people who live in Hawaii are like…on permanent vacation. You've all got jobs and errands to run and stuff. It isn't like…surfing in the morning, sitting on the beach with a drink during the day, and going back out to surf in the afternoon, only to have a luau later on that night … every single day."
She sniffed in amusement and shook her head. "Nope. To be honest, I'd go a little crazy if that was what life was like here."
"Too monotonous?"
"Exactly. I like being active, doing different things, breaking up the monotony. It's easy to fall into a rut, I think, and that isn't something I ever want to find myself doing."
"Falling into a rut?" he asked.
"Yeah. That."
Chuck took a moment to get his thoughts together. "I kind of get that. When you're in a rut like that, it's sort of as if…life is passing you by." He nibbled on his lip thoughtfully. That was exactly the sort of rabbit hole he had been starting to slide into before he took this late birthday trip. His employees, friends, and family had to force him, as if they'd seen him starting to wilt—like a plant that wasn't getting enough water or sun.
She turned and snapped her fingers, pointing at him. "Yep. That. I don't know. Maybe this sounds silly, but I would feel like maybe I'm not living life to its fullest and-and life is short, you know? I'm still young and I really want to make sure I get the most out of every day. And I guess maybe that's why I get up and get dressed and start the day immediately. I don't know. It could just be that I'm clinically incapable of chilling out," she finished with a giggle.
"You aren't. You are currently chilling out. We're out here on this balcony, feeling the tropical breeze, and the delicious sun on our faces and…" His eyes landed on her long, smooth legs and he heard himself murmur, "and legs." He cleared his throat and shook his head a little. "Uh…um…and…" He heard her chuckle and ignored it, blushing. "Well, we're chilling. That's all. You're chill."
"Well, maybe I have to be forced." There was a long pause, and she lifted an eyebrow. "Me and my…legs."
"Stop it," he said in a flat voice, letting out a self-deprecating smirk and ducking his head. "You, uh…You think maybe that's why you move around a lot?" he asked. He realized how that sounded and winced, sitting up a bit straighter, lowering his feet to the floor, and holding out a hand towards her. "Sorry. That's totally personal. I didn't mean to be…"
"No. No, it's okay." She shook her head and tucked her hair behind her ear a bit shyly, he thought. "It might be. I don't know. The…rut thing. The fact that I'm kind of bad at settling down. I-I'm probably just afraid I'm missing something. Somewhere else."
"Well, like you said…You're still young." He didn't even know what he meant by that. It was just something he felt sounded right for the moment, something that might sound supportive. And he felt dumb.
"I am."
"I don't think there's anything wrong with it." He winced again. "Not that you need my approval."
She let out a one-note giggle through her nose. "No, that's very sweet, Chuck. Thank you."
"I validate life choices when I can."
She gave him a long look. "Even when they're drastically different from yours?"
Chuck pulled his bottom lip back between his teeth and narrowed his eyes thoughtfully. "Especially when they're different from mine. There's no one right way to live your life, contrary to what our parents' generation might have to say about that."
She got a particular look on her face, and he thought he detected a hint of bitterness there, maybe some pain, too, in the way she furrowed her brow a little, her blue eyes getting darker as she looked away from him. It wasn't directed at him, he thought. But something else. Someone else. "Yeah," was all she said.
He felt like he'd accidentally let things get too introspective and perhaps it had dampened the bright and sunny mood they'd both been in. Damn it…Pick it up, Chuck. Pick this back up.
"Hey, want some more coffee? Or juice? We still have some in there." He poked his thumb towards the sliding door that led back inside.
"No, I'm good, thanks." Then she got a look in her eyes. "Actually…"
Oh, there it was. The end of the morning. He'd messed up. He'd asked her a too-personal question and ended up ruining the chill atmosphere, and it made her think about leaving, going home.
"I only have that one outfit I wore last night with me. I should probably get home, shower, change clothes…" She smirked. "As much as I'd love to, I really can't stay in a robe all day."
"I mean, you could. If you wanted to. I wouldn't judge you for it, is what I'm saying. I'd gladly stay like this for the rest of the day with you, actually." He gestured to his own robe.
"S'that so?" she asked quietly, her tone a little deeper than usual. "You like me in nothing but a robe?"
Chuck tried not to blush, knowing that was exactly what she wanted him to do. But then an evil little thought struck him and he decided to throw it right back at her. "Who wouldn't like you in nothing but a robe?"
Bullseye.
He saw her cheeks go a bit pink as she grinned and looked out at the ocean, looking a lot more pleased by that than maybe she meant to look.
"You really like keeping me on my toes, don't you, Curls?"
"It goes both ways," he chuckled. "And I didn't just say it to knock you on your ass, so to speak. You are sooo damn fine and that's the honest to God truth." He held up a hand, watching as she lowered her own feet to the balcony floor and turned to face him better, raising both eyebrows. He continued, wanting to go for the full effect. "I genuinely think you could pick out the best sculptors in human history and not a single one of them could do you any justice. Not even Bernini." Sarah blinked, and then she stood up from her chair and started moving towards him. "I don't know if you've brushed up on your art history recently, so just so we're clear, I mean that to be a huge compliment. Like, Bernini was… What? What are you doing?" She'd stopped in front of him, sticking her hand out towards him.
"We're going inside. Right now," she said.
Chuck slid his eyes up her body to meet her gaze. "Right now right now?"
She dropped her hand to her side and rolled her eyes, smirking. "Let's go, Prince Charming. Up."
He scrambled to his feet and let her tug him by the lapel of his robe back inside.
}o{
His heart rate took quite a while to get back to normal levels this time. Though he imagined having her this close still even after they'd finished was probably helping to keep it up there.
They were on their sides in his bed, facing one another, their noses so close they were almost touching, arms draped over one another's sides, legs still tangled under the sheets.
Sarah wore a calm look on her face, supremely content, and—dare he think it—happy. Maybe he was just projecting because that was how he felt. Down to his very bones, that was how he felt.
"You deserved that," she finally said, her voice low and crackly.
He let out a quiet, long whistle. "I don't know why, but I'm not looking a gift horse in the mouth."
She sniffed in amusement. "That sculpture thing you said about me. And Berlini or whatever."
"Ah. Gian Lorenzo Bernini. Good ol' Gian Lorenzo. He's my buddy." She made a face at that. "Not really," he chuckled. "He died, like, three hundred plus years ago. But his work?" He kissed his fingers. "Delicious."
She narrowed her eyes and smiled slowly. "You're really brainy sometimes, you know that?"
He didn't quite know how to respond. And he wasn't sure by her tone if she meant it as a good thing, or was she insinuating he was a know-it-all? He couldn't tell and it was bothering him.
Thankfully she continued before he could fully descend into a freak-out spiral.
"Like, namedropping an artist from hundreds of years ago. That conversation you and Kai were having last night about the different types of lavender." He winced. "Why are you making that face?"
"Did I make a face? I didn't mean to make a face. I just…know about some things. I took art history classes at Stanford when I could squeeze them in between requirements for my majors. Because I really liked it. And Bernini was a god. I mean, I don't know anything about how he was as a person, but as an artist—a god. I'll—" He propped himself up to look around the room. "I have no idea where my phone is and I don't want to move from this spot so I'll show you later. But his sculptures are hnnnnnnng."
She smirked. "What was that again? What are they? Can you, uh, say that one more time?"
He repeated his reaction and she giggled. "Still. You're like a treasure trove of little bits of trivia. You're brainy."
"None of it is important in real life situations, though. Like, if I got lost in the woods and someone was like, 'Okay, now we need to find food', all I'd have to offer is why Bernini's David is way cooler, and frankly, hotter, than Michelangelo's David. And that would not help the situation at all. We would starve."
Sarah burst into laughter, turning her face into the pillow. "I stand by what I said," she said after sobering up a bit. "You've got a big ol' smart brain full of interesting facts and tidbits. But you don't rub it in anybody's face. Not only is that super cute, it's…" she rolled her eyes, "very different."
He felt his cheeks pink. "Meet a lot of brainiacs who want you to know they're brainiacs?"
"Uhhh, yeah. A lot. They're everywhere. In every country. Every culture. Every language. And I'm not just talking about men, either. Women, too. Though, I've met more men like that, maybe because they're trying to impress the pretty girl at the bar…Or it might just be that I spend a lot of time with men." He must've raised his eyebrows or something because she glared. "Not like that."
He let out a chuckle and raised a hand up defensively. "Didn't say anything. But I'll try to be the exception. I really don't know that much. There are just things I like so I know about 'em. It's a lot easier these days with Google at your fingertips."
Her own fingertips slid into his hair then, playing with his curls, and he liked that better than Google. "Brainy Bartowski."
Chuck snorted. "I thought I was Curls."
"You're both," she said with a smile. "Depending on my mood."
"I'm okay with this." Chuck found his eyes slowly fluttering shut as he just enjoyed the feeling of her fingers combing through his hair, her legs entangled with his. It felt good, just being here, like this…
"I really do have to go home. I know I've got today off but I've been putting off laundry so long and I just…can't anymore."
Chuck opened his eyes in time to see her wince. There was a great deal of reluctance in her face and he smiled to try to alleviate it. "I do the same thing. I'll put off laundry for so long that I'll literally get to a point where I'm wearing my very last piece of clean underwear while I'm doing the laundry."
"That's almost the point I'm at," she giggled. "It's dire."
They both sat up then, and just as Chuck went to throw the sheet off of his legs to get out of bed, Sarah reached out and wrapped her hand around his wrist.
"Hey, um…"
He turned back to her, raising his eyebrows in question.
"Would you…want to come with me?"
His eyebrows shot even higher. "With you? Like, while you do laundry?"
"I'm not gonna make you fold it for me," she laughed. "But I mean, yeah, I guess. Come home with me while I do laundry. I was thinking maybe I'd make margaritas and we could sit out on the patio, maybe barbecue something again." She shrugged, looking tentative, unsure.
And God, when she looked at him like that, he had absolutely no defense against it. "Okay. If you're sure." He lowered his chin.
She bit the inside of her cheek and twisted her lips to the side, nodding. "I'm sure."
It took them all of twenty minutes to get dressed and be ready to go, Chuck throwing some things into a small sports bag he brought for day trips he might take while he was here, just so that he'd have a change of clothes, something to swim in, sneakers in case they wandered since he had a general aversion to flip-flops if he was walking anywhere besides on the literal beach.
Chuck took the time to call a Lyft and they were off.
}o{
"May I ask you somethin'?"
"Hm?" he heard her voice, slow and deliciously lazy, wander from the other chaise lounge. He heard the slurp of her taking a sip of her margarita, as well, and turned to watch as she reached over to set it on the small square table between them.
"What do you do up here if there's, like, a hurricane or something?"
Her eyes snapped open and she sat up, reaching over the table and smacking his shoulder. "What the hell? Why you gonna ask a question like that? Are you trying to freak me out?"
Chuck laughed and recoiled, holding up his hands. "Sorry! I'm just really curious. Your house is kind of high up."
"I've been through one hurricane, and it wasn't even a really terrible one, but it was the worst thing ever and I was all alone in a hotel room in this big tall building. Luckily, Hawaii doesn't really have all that many hurricanes. Cyclones, yeah, but not hurricanes."
"What's the difference?"
"A cyclone is basically a tropical storm. It's not as crazy or intense. Bad rain, winds, but not the scary shit you see smacking into the Caribbean in the news."
He smirked at her. "Brainy Scuba Sarah."
"Stop," she chuckled. "That's not a hard one. You're just a California boy so you only have to worry about…I dunno, whether you should wear shorts on a particular day."
Chuck laughed and shook his head. "What? Oh, come on!" Then he held up a finger. "I'll have you know, my state catches fire, like, on a weekly basis from the beginning of spring until winter pretty much." She snorted, shaking her head. "It's true. It does. You can bet that right now there's some brush fire somewhere in California. If you looked it up, I bet you'd find one. It's ridiculous."
"I believe you."
"You ever been to California?" he asked suddenly.
There was a look on her face, then, the contentment that had been there before fading, a far-off look of…he didn't know what. She didn't look upset, per se. It was almost as though she was lost in thought.
"No." Then she frowned, shook her head, and huffed. "That's a lie. I was born there."
Chuck did a double-take.
"In California? Really? So you're a California girl and you've been keepin' it from me this whole time?" He grinned at her to let her know he was teasing, but this time it didn't have the effect he'd wanted. She did smile a little, probably just for his benefit.
"No, I wasn't really keeping it from you. I-I just…"
"I know you weren't," he said quickly. "Even if you did, it's not my business. I'm not entitled to know your whole life story. And, you know, you don't actually have to answer the onslaught of questions I continually throw at you." He chuckled, giving her a self-deprecating look. "I'm just kind of like this. And I like you, so I guess I just wanna know more about ya."
She reached over and put her hand on his shoulder. "Chuck, you're so sweet."
He shrugged, not knowing how else to respond.
"And I don't really…look back at that time in my life too often," she said, pulling her hand away from him to tuck her hair behind her ear. "It's easy for me to just pretend it didn't happen."
"Ah. I'm sorry."
"Nooo, don't be. Everybody has something, right?" She bit her lip and looked away. "I don't even really know why I said that. I usually just avoid the subject. And I could've just answered no initially and you wouldn't even really know that it wasn't true." She shrugged.
Chuck raised his eyebrows and she winced.
"That was probably too much honesty, wasn't it? Yeeeah, it definitely was. Shit."
"No, it wasn't!" he rushed out, swinging his legs around and sitting up with his feet on the ground, facing her. Then he went one further and got up, sitting back down beside her legs on her own chair. "Listen, this is… What I'm trying to say is, this situation is new for me, too. I went on vacation fully expecting to spend the whole thing by myself." He shook his head with a small snort. "And then I just happened to luck onto your boat, and here we are."
"It's crazy," she breathed.
"It is. But I think we can just go with it. I mean I'm willing to. If you want. Just, like, letting ourselves enjoy." She nodded a little. "But you don't have to tell me things you don't wanna tell me. I'm just a random guy you met a few days ago, so I get that."
"That's just it, Chuck. I do want to tell you. That's why I'm…" She shook her head and chuckled at herself. "I haven't been back to California since I was a kid so I don't really remember it."
He wished she would've finished her sentence. He was dying to know what was going on inside of her head. About this situation. About them. This was, what, the sixth day he'd known her now? It was truly insane that he was here with her, sitting on her patio, not much more than a tourist who'd stepped onto a particular boat that she also happened to be on…
"I've lied to so many people because it just never really mattered. Knew I'd never see 'em again and it was just easier to say something…whatever. Something that'd move the conversation along without them asking more questions." She sighed. "I know. That probably makes me sound like I'm kind of a bad person." He gave her a flat look but she just kept going instead of acknowledging it. "And for some reason, Chuck, it's genuinely difficult for me to do that with you. It's not even really that I can't lie to you about this stuff I usually lie to other people about. It's that I don't want to. Why is that?"
Sarah sat up and folded her legs up so she was sitting cross-legged, and she leaned forward and pushed her sunglasses up to the top of her head. Her eyes were so bright in the afternoon sun, the blue matching the ocean that stretched out in the distance behind him.
"That was only half rhetorical," she said a bit tentatively.
"Oh!" He shook his head. "Right. I—'Cause I thought it was rhetorical, but also did you know that right now your eyes are, like, this stunning mixture of the color of the sky currently and the hue of the ocean that's behind me? They're like…dark but bright at the same time." He swallowed hard as she lowered her chin and looked at him through her eyelashes. "Sorry. I was—It's just that—See, you were wearing sunglasses before so I couldn't see 'em. Your eyes, I mean. And now you're not so I can see them super clearly and it's kind of like, ahhhh!" he sang, in his most heavenly key, giving her a bit of a goofy, crooked smile afterwards.
She giggled. "I think you just inadvertently gave me my answer."
"I did?"
"Mhm. I've never met anyone who's quite as effortlessly honest and sincere as you are. I think you're simply rubbing off on me." The slow, closed-mouth smile she gave him, her eyes sparkling with warmth and amusement, charmed him so intensely that he nearly melted right off of her chair and ended up a puddle on the ground beneath them.
He grinned, a big, toothy grin that wrinkled his eyes and his nose. And then he leaned in and said, "I'm so sorry."
Sarah laughed and grabbed him by his arms, pulling him in for a long kiss. It was long enough that he felt inclined to lean her back and drape himself over her, wrapping one of his large hands around her bare midriff and stroking the skin of her abdomen with his thumb. She shivered beneath him, sliding her fingers up into his hair and giving it a bit of a tug.
He lost his bearings on where he was, when he was…even what he was…as the kiss deepened and her hands began to explore. So much so that he didn't even realize he was starting to pull at the tie to her bathing suit top until she squeaked and pulled back, grabbing his hand. "Whoa, whoa…Easy there, Curls…"
Her giggle brought him out of his haze and he looked down at her dark green bikini top string trapped between his fingers and immediately let go. "Um. Shit. Sorry. We sorta got goin' there and I, um, didn't really remember that we were outside."
He cleared his throat and sat up. "Sorry," he felt the need to repeat.
She just beamed up at him, then mischievously lifted her legs to wrap them around his waist, sitting up and scooting close to him, squeezing him into a hug with her arms and legs rounding his torso. She pressed a slow kiss to his cheek. "You don't owe me any apologies. For anything." Then she paused. "Hungry?"
"I think that's obvious."
Sarah barked out a laugh and shoved at his shoulder. "Now who's cheeky?"
She uncurled her legs from his body and swung them around to stand up. "I've got Hawaiian veggie dogs in my fridge. I can throw them on the barbecue."
"Hawaiian veggie?!" he exclaimed, unable to resist watching her tie the black sheer wrap around her hips.
"Yeah." She shrugged. "What, you need me to go to the store to get you some real meat?"
"Pfft! I can eat a veggie dog. Please. I'm just curious about the Hawaiian part. Do they grind up coconuts and loco moco and stuff 'em inside?"
"That's horrifically disgusting and also those aren't the only two things people eat on the islands."
"Oh, I know, but those are the only two Hawaiian things I could think of off the top of my head."
"You're a dork."
"Yes."
She sniffed out a quiet giggle and shook her head. "Let me phrase it better. It's a regular veggie dog, but I don't have things like ketchup and mustard. The toppings are purely Hawaiian. Do you trust me? Zeki taught me this recipe, and his family has lived on this island for, like, centuries."
"Well, not you as much, but I trust Zeki, for sure."
That got him a laugh and a middle finger, before she swept inside, pulling her hair up into a messy bun at the back of her head. He jumped up and followed behind her, snagging his shirt from the back of one of the chairs pushed up against her bar and shifting it in his hands to pull it on.
"I don't, like, have a no shirt no shoes no service rule in my house, Chuck," she said, smirking over her shoulder as she opened her fridge and dug inside of one of the drawers.
He looked down at the shirt in his hands. "Oh. No, I know. But I was just thinking that…" Then something occurred to him. "Are you insinuating you would like me to leave my shirt off?"
"Oh, I definitely am." She cut open the packet of veggie dogs and plopped them onto a dish, turning around to face him with a flirtatious look on her face.
Chuck dropped his shirt back onto the chair then, feeling the heat of her gaze against his chest and his shoulders. She was insanely good for his self-esteem. Insanely good.
"Fine. If I leave my shirt off for you, you have to take off that super cute little black thingie you're wearing."
It didn't even cover anything, since it was so tiny and practically see-through anyway. But still, she raised her eyebrows, pressing her lips together to stem her amusement a bit, and she propped the plate with the dogs and the tongs on one hand in full-waitress-mode, then used her free hand to snatch the wrap from her hips. "Fine," she said in a slow clip, and as she strode past him with a sway to her hips, she threw the wrap right at his face.
He yanked it off of his face and watched her go, then looked down at it in his hand, and back up to her. She gave him one last look over her shoulder before she ducked outside to start the barbecue.
Chuck bit his lip, then turned and placed his hands on the countertops, hunching forward and taking a deep, shaky breath.
He was sincerely in so much damn trouble.
}o{
After eating they strolled down the street for the second time in a few days, headed for the beach below Sarah's neighborhood, and Chuck was stunned by how gorgeous the water was as the sun began to set behind them.
The neighborhood was so quiet and peaceful, so different from what he was used to back home. He heard the cry of a few of those wild roosters he'd read about when he was planning his trip. And he let the peace of the whole scene settle over him.
He chanced a quick glance at Sarah out of his peripheral and saw she was deep in thought, her brow furrowed, lips pursed. She'd thrown a zip up sweatshirt and some shorts on over her suit, neglecting to actually zip up the sweatshirt, which was kind of cute for some reason.
He thought back to her admission earlier. It was a little strange, the way she'd lied to him for a second, telling him she hadn't ever been to California, then changing her mind and telling him she'd actually been born there. And the way she so readily admitted she lied about or outright avoided talking about her childhood with other people, for the most part. And how she didn't want to do that with him.
It felt important. It felt like she'd given him something special. And he felt a little dizzy almost at the realization.
But he also didn't want her to think he was taking it for granted. He wanted to make sure she knew that he could be trusted, that it was all right for her to feel comfortable with him. He wouldn't push or prod, he wouldn't make more of her trust than was warranted.
He wouldn't get intense with her about it.
And before he could shut himself up, he heard himself say, "Sarah, I-I just wanted to follow up on something for a second. Something you said earlier. Um, you can trust me. I mean that you can talk to me." Her eyes widened a bit. "I'm not saying this like you have to give me all of your secrets now. Because you don't. That's not my point. I just mean I'm…" He paused in thought for a moment. "Listen, I'm going back to L.A. in a little over two weeks, ya know? And…Well, I'm kinda just a random tourist, right? This isn't coming out the way I want it to. I'm trying to say I'm good at listening. And considering all the shit I have in my past, I promise whatever you've got in yours…Let's just say you don't have to worry about me judging you." He paused. "Did any of that make sense at all?"
They arrived at the beach and kicked off their flip flops, making their way through the slowly cooling sand after the warm day to get closer to the water.
"It made perfect sense, Chuck. And it's super adorable that you're trying to reassure me and make sure I know I can trust you, but I already know I can. You wouldn't know anything about me at this point if I didn't trust you. And you sure as hell wouldn't have been allowed in my house."
He laughed. "Touché."
"Or my car even, for that matter."
He laughed again. And then he reached around her and grabbed the frisbee she had tucked under her arm furthest from him. "What's this for?" he asked, jogging backwards, away from her as she made to snatch it back, her eyes shining.
"Uh. Throwing?" She made a face.
"Duh, Sarah. I just mean, you trying to play frisbee with me? Me? A nerd? Nonathletic me? A completely uncoordinated nerd?"
Sarah gave him a dubious look. "Miss me with that uncoordinated nerd shit. A nerd, yes. Uncoordinated? Definitely not."
The way she bit her lip and strut backwards to put some distance between them, a seductive glint in her eye, made Chuck feel a rush of heat come up from the flannel he'd tossed on over his T-shirt and swim trunks. She was truly insatiable with the innuendos and he wasn't tired of it yet. In fact, he didn't think he'd ever be tired of it.
She held up her hand for the frisbee and he shook his head, shifting the frisbee in his grip and then tossing it. It waggled manically through the air, flew well over her head, and landed pitifully about ten paces behind her. She was silent for a moment, glancing back at the frisbee in the sand. "Okay, so I guess you are a little uncoordinated."
"Shut up!" He cracked up. "I've maybe thrown a frisbee a handful of times! Get off my ass!"
"I'm just sayin', you're a frat boy. I figured you'd have extensive frisbee knowledge," she teased, jogging over to the frisbee and sweeping it gracefully up off of the ground.
He regretted telling her about the frat house thing now.
"What kind of a frat—? There's no such thing as frisbee fraternities. At least, my fraternity was not like that."
"No athletes?"
"Well, now…hold on. Hold on a second there. I wouldn't say no athletes, okay?" She threw the frisbee without him realizing and it swooped right towards him. He yelped and put his hands out, stopping it from smacking him in the chest, but fumbling it and letting it drop to the sand at his feet. He glowered at her as she giggled, kneeling down to pick it up and brushing the sand off of it. "A few of us were chess champions, sooooo…"
Sarah threw her head back and laughed. He managed to actually get the frisbee to her this time, as much as it wobbled. "Chess isn't a sport."
"It is too a sport!"
"Chuck, there's nothing athletic about chess. I'm not saying it isn't still super impressive. I mean, you have to have a pretty amazing brain to be a chess champion especially, but chess is not a sport. You sweet, sweet man."
She threw the frisbee back to him, a lot slower this time, he noticed. And he reached out to snatch it out of the air, his fingers slipping a bit on its surface, but he pulled it in and clutched it to his chest like a football. "A SUCCESSFUL CATCH! HA! TAKE THAT, MISS CHESS-ATHLETES-AREN'T-REAL-ATHLETES!"
Sarah just laughed harder, her hands on her knees. "Okay, fine, fine. I'll let you have the win on this, but only because you're being too freaking cute about it."
"Oh, come on. A surrender isn't a real win. This win just feels lame now." She laughed again. "Fight me on this, Sarah."
He threw the frisbee even better than he had the last time, with much less wobble. "Call me a nerd. Come on, do it."
Sarah raised her eyebrow, giving him a slow smile. "All right, weirdo. How 'bout this? You frat boys box while playing chess and we can call you athletes."
"Box?" He laughed. "Are you kidding? That's not real. You made that up."
"No, I didn't. It's chess boxing. It's a real thing."
"That sounds so made up!"
"It isn't! They sit down in the middle of a ring with a chessboard and play chess for a while, then get up, move the chessboard to the side, and have a round of boxing. You win if you get a knock-out, or, you know, if you win the chess game. Checkmate or whatever it is."
Chuck finally caught the frisbee in one hand and held it up over his head in celebration. Sarah laughed and clapped for him. And then he lowered it again and concentrated on prepping for what was going to have to be his best throw. He was determined. "That sounds insane and when we get back to your house, I demand proof of this."
"I swear it's real. We pulled it up on YouTube at work a few weeks ago and were stunned that it was a real thing."
He threw perhaps his worst throw yet, the frisbee landing with a sad thud in the sand three quarters of the way to Sarah. "Did you move back without me realizing or do I just suck that bad?" he asked, shaking his head and chuckling.
She giggled and walked over to the frisbee, picking it up. "I didn't move, but don't be so hard on yourself." Instead of going back to her spot like he thought she might, though, she continued on her path towards him and stopped in front of him. "Here. Hold it."
He took it from her and held it in both hands. She blinked at him. He blinked at her. Then she furrowed her brow. "Chuck, hold it like you're gonna throw it."
"Oh!" He shrugged. "Say that then. I thought you just wanted me to hold it 'cause you were gonna do a handstand or something."
She laughed and stepped to the side, watching as he moved it into his hand. He felt self conscious then, thinking too hard about where his fingers were going, afraid he'd look like an idiot if he did it the wrong way. And it didn't matter, really. It was a stupid frisbee. But this was also Sarah the Scuba Instructor and he wasn't above self-consciousness where she was concerned.
"No, no…hold on, hold on." She took the frisbee back and demonstrated for him. "See how I have my pointer finger on the lip and the rest tucked under? Try that. Gives a bit more stability to it." She handed it back.
He held it like she showed him.
"Perfect. I really should've just shown you to begin with."
"Nah, I mean, you assumed I wasn't a complete tool who doesn't know how to throw a frisbee."
Sarah giggled and glared a bit. "Chuck, being able to throw a frisbee has nothing to do with whether someone is a tool or not. And vice versa." She put her hands on his throwing arm then. "Okay, so move your body so that it's facing the water." He did. "Yeah, you want your side facing where you're throwing it to."
"Makes sense."
"Now keep the frisbee here, at your waist." She let go of his arm and slipped her right hand around his waist, giving him a squeeze. It was totally unnecessary but he wouldn't have complained about it if his life depended on it. "Don't hold it all high up by your chest because you want the frisbee to fly straight and true. It won't if you start up here." He lowered the frisbee as she dragged her hand up his side to just under his armpit. "Good." She let go of him and a voice in his head muttered, Not good. He wanted to tell her it was perfectly fine to keep teaching him with her hands all over him, but…he didn't.
"Try it," she chirped, heading a few yards away, closer than she'd been before.
He threw it again but it still wobbled, even though it got to her. Granted, she had to really reach because it veered way to the right. "That felt bad."
She laughed. "It wasn't awful, but it's because you're putting power into it."
"Isn't that the point? I want it to get to you."
"Nah, 'cause it isn't a baseball. Put on your physics hat, Stanford," she said, a slightly flirtatious look on her face as she crossed to him again. "Power is gonna send it wild. You just whip your wrist and let the air around it do the rest. It's about finesse," she said, stepping in close and putting it back into his hand. "Not power. You also want to grip it a little loose."
Chuck let his fingers go limp so that the frisbee flopped onto the sand at his feet. She gave him a look. "You said grip it loose. I went loose."
She rolled her eyes and shook her head. "Now you're just being a cheeky turd." He cracked up. "I'm not picking that up, so I think you'd better…" She raised an eyebrow and slid her gaze down the full length of his body to stop at the frisbee. It was blatant and it sent a shiver through him.
He bent down to pick it up again and turned it over to fix his fingers on it, holding it at his waist. Sarah shifted to stand behind him then and set her hand on his waist, curling her right hand around his on the frisbee. "Okay, see how I'm just moving our wrists? Very minimal arm movement, right? Just a quick whipping motion, a flick of the wrist, and you let go at a ninety degree angle with the ground, right?" She moved his wrist back and forth. "That make sense?"
"Got it."
"Okay. Do it again."
She moved back to her spot and he took a settling breath.
"Don't think too hard about it. Remember, loosen up a bit, spread your feet a little, and it's all in the wrist."
He threw it just as she advised him and it sliced through the air, no wobbles, straight into her hands. "OH MY GOD!"
"You did it!"
"HELL YES!" He fist punched as she laughed and applauded him.
They threw it back and forth a bit, even moving further away from each other, as Chuck told her about the last time he'd thrown something—a game controller during a weekend Call of Duty tournament he and Morgan had entered, when he finished a round and had to pass it off to Morgan who'd wandered off after a gamer woman and had to dash back like a bat out of hell. He described it as the perfect controller pass-off, a ten out of ten from the judges. He didn't tell her he and Morgan had lost that tournament in the last round, however. He also told her about how much nicer it was throwing something with her than it had been when Devon's UCLA football buddies had forced him into throwing a football with them. They'd pelted him with the ball too many times to count as he'd yelled at them about how pointy it was.
Eventually the frisbee ended up in a pile with their flip-flops as they walked down to where the water trickled up over their toes. The sun had since set and the sky was slowly darkening, dusk sweeping over the island, a breeze picking up.
He noticed Sarah zipping up her sweatshirt finally, pulling it close to her body.
"Why'd you come here?" he finally asked, breaking the comfortable silence.
She gave him a bit of a puzzled look.
"I mean, you told me after, uhhhhh, did you say Washington, D.C.?" She nodded. "Right." He tapped his temple and winked, earning an amused shake of the head. "After D.C. you came to Kauai, I'm assuming for something different, the total opposite. But I mean, that's such a leap of faith. Just getting on a plane and making something out of nothing in a totally new place. Why'd you pick Kauai?"
She was quiet for a moment, and then she crossed her arms, hugging herself as a gust of wind blew past them. She reached up to fix some of the hair that came out of her bun away from her face. "You do ask a lot of questions. More than most people." He winced, ready to apologize, but she quickly grabbed his arm and moved in front of him, their chests brushing. "No, don't apologize. Not again. It's kind of…I dunno, nice. It's nice that someone wants to know, I guess. Means you care."
He cared more than he knew was appropriate for him to say at this stage, six days in on them even knowing one another.
"I'm sort of, um, rash sometimes. I mean, I'm mostly level-headed when it counts but I'm still rash. When I decide to do something, you can't stop me from doing it." She looked off to the side and pursed her lips, nibbling on the inside of her cheek thoughtfully. "I wanted to get far away from D.C., you know? As far as possible without ending up in…" She huffed. "I dunno, Siberia or something."
Chuck let out a sniff of amusement, smiling at her.
"Was D.C. that terrible for you? That you moved…what is it, like, five thousand miles away?"
She raised her eyebrows. "It wasn't great. I mean, I guess the city was fine. It was all right. It was…other stuff I was trying to get away from. The job, people…Mostly people." She pressed her lips together and took a deep breath, letting it out slowly.
Chuck couldn't help thinking that maybe it was a man, someone she'd been dating. He wouldn't ever say that out loud. It would be presumptuous and rude to ask…but he couldn't help wondering still.
"That's a bummer. But I mean, silver lining? I think you could count living in Kauai now as a silver lining."
"It is pretty silver," she said with a smile, nodding and ducking her head a little shyly.
He bent his knees a little, stooping just enough to look up at her and catch her eye. "Of course…" he continued, straightening up again, her eyes following. "What's more silver lining-ish than meeting a guy," he pointed to himself with one thumb, "who is tall…has passably decent shoulders and an impressive wingspan…" He lifted his arms up, stretching them out straight on either side of him, earning a bubbly giggle. "…destroys at video games, and just conquered the frisbee?"
Sarah's laughter could only be described as happy. And he laughed with her when she reached up to push his arms back down to his sides and leaned up on her toes to kiss him as the water flooded up around their ankles. She shivered a little against him and he enveloped her in his impressive wingspan, pulling her close, rubbing her back.
He didn't need to know why she'd felt the need to leave D.C., or who it was she was getting away from. He didn't need to know the why because she was here now.
She was here. He'd met her. And even though he had no clue what in the hell tomorrow would bring, he was living for today, right now, in this moment.
A wave they weren't expecting suddenly smacked into their calves, splashing up their legs. Sarah broke away with an adorable scream as he laughed, pulling her back away from the water. And as they laughed together, wet up to their mid-thighs, her hand grabbed onto his and held on tightly, their eyes meeting. He was too focused on her to think about just how deep in trouble he was. He was too happy to be worried.
A/N: Just continuing this no plot, plenty of fluff business and not caring about anything else, a'thank you. It's bliss, though, ain't it? It is for me. And since I ain't getting paid to write this, I'm gonna continue writing what I need to write. What I wanna write. (wink) Please review! It means a lot to read them. Thanks, folks! Ta!
-SC