A/N: Thanks for sticking with this fic, all of you. Still plenty more to come, but it felt like a thank you day today. So thank you. Enjoy!

Disclaimer: I don't own CHUCK or its characters. And I'm not making any money from this story.

He could hear her on her phone, outside on the patio, but all he could tell was that there was something of an argument happening. The exact words, he couldn't place. She'd purposely gone out to her patio and had slid the door shut so that he couldn't hear, though, so it felt intrusive to try to listen.

And yet, he tried anyway.

He was only human.

Chuck peeked over his shoulder at her still, watching her pace. She was waving her hand through the air, a look of frustration on her face, her shoulders a bit hunched as she spoke. He'd never been good at lip reading, but the word "fuck" was unmistakable, and he'd seen it happen more than just the one time.

He'd stopped frustration, and even exhaustion in her profile at one point as she pinched the bridge of her nose and listened to whoever was on the other side of the call.

He watched her hang up then, straightening her spine, tilting her head back to the sun and shutting her eyes. She was collecting herself after what had seemed like a tense conversation. Had she gotten bad news? What kind of bad news? What did bad news even mean for her? He knew what bad news would be for him, and he found himself getting lost in the realization that he really didn't know much at all about this woman he'd spent so much time with in the last couple of weeks.

They'd been sitting on her couch, just enjoying one another's company, talking, going through options of what Chuck might want to do with his last few days on the island, the dishes from breakfast finished and Sarah feeling a lot better after eating.

And then Sarah's phone rang. And she'd groaned teasingly, going to get it and glancing at the screen. Her face had morphed completely when she looked at the screen. He'd seen things she probably hadn't meant for him to see flash over her features, even if he couldn't make sense of any of it.

And then she cleared her throat. "Uh, I have to take this. I'm sorry. I'll be right back." She'd sent him an apologetic look as he waved it off politely, but then she'd ducked outside and had very pointedly slid the door shut tight before she answered.

Something told him someone from the Scuba Shack hadn't been on the other end of that call. Again, he still didn't know her, and he'd only seen her interact with them a handful of times in the last few weeks, but the look on her face just didn't seem like something they'd put there. Not even the Myrna woman who worked such a sparse schedule that he still hadn't met her, nor had he even seen any sign of her around the Shack. Apparently she just popped in here and there to do the accounting.

Chuck watched as Sarah looked down at her phone, turning her head to stare out towards the water, squinting, looking upset, before she took a deep breath and headed back towards the sliding door.

He whipped around to face the TV, sitting rigidly on the couch, his hands on his knees, as if he hadn't been watching her closely while she spoke on the phone with the mystery person.

The door slid open and she stepped inside, shutting it again, before her voice broke the uncomfortable silence.

"Sorry about that. Just a dumb…uh, business thing."

She came back around to plop onto the couch next to him, and the smile on her face felt kind of forced. Not awfully forced, but enough for him to sense it. She set her phone on the coffee table and pulled her legs up under her.

"Everything okay?" he couldn't help asking. She looked at him closely. "It just… You didn't seem too happy about whoever it was calling you when your phone rang and you picked it up."

Sarah smirked. "I wasn't happy. I hate…money stuff." Her features were shielded then as she glanced away. "But let's not talk about it. I want to know if you're up for beach chilling today. You don't have many days left for touristy things, I know. We can do that, I'm just…a little hungover still." She winced. "Ruining your trip with my poor choices."

He laughed, a little unnerved by how quickly she'd jumped to another topic. "You aren't ruining anything. Sitting around on a beach sounds amazing."

She beamed at him. "You sure?"

"Positive."

Sarah climbed up from the couch and put her hand out for him, tugging him up to his feet when he curled his fingers around hers.

}o{

He'd since decided to push that phone call out of his mind, as she genuinely didn't seem all that upset about it once they changed into swim things, covered up, and started out for the beach.

She'd clearly moved on from the phone call.

It probably really was something like her accountant calling about tax stuff or whatever. He got it. Money stuff sucked. He hated conversations with his accountant too. And he hated budget meetings at BarTech most of all.

And the weather was perfect. There was a light cloud covering, the humidity wasn't too bad, and the beach was less packed than the one in front of his hotel. Maybe because it was beneath a residential area, behind a thick and tall sort of wall made out of tropical vegetation.

One surfer sat on his board far out in the ocean, waiting.

And Sarah draped herself out on her back on the towel next to his, taking her sunglasses off and shutting her eyes, her arms up and hands pillowed under her head.

Jesus.

He forced his gaze away from her and looked back out to the sea again. He still, genuinely, couldn't belief any of this.

Whatever happened in four days, if the thing he hoped happened ended up happening, he didn't think he would ever get used to how perfect she was, head to toe. She could have even, like, a paltry fraction of this perfection, and he'd still be so endlessly into her….and yet, here she was.

With him.

He shook himself.

How had any of this happened? It was like it all fell so snugly into place, like some ethereal being decided to bless him with not just the perfect vacation but the perfect companion for said vacation. When he'd been ready to just be alone for a few weeks, charging headfirst into adventure some days, staying back at the hotel beach other days, maybe seeing a volcano, hiking in the Kauai forests, scoping tropical plants and animals and other little creatures. This had been so much better. Better than he could've ever imagined.

And now it was drawing to a close in a handful of days. And things were still up in the air, hovering, above and around them, even now as they sat on the beach together. Words were left unsaid. And he needed to say something soon. Damn it.

"Why are you sitting there all rigid? Splay out, man, you're on vacation," she teased, squinting one eye open to look at him and wrinkling her nose cutely.

Chuckling, he nodded once, assenting to her good point, and he crawled down to lie on his stomach, propping himself up on his elbows beside her. "Better?"

"Much, thank you."

And because he loved the sound of her laugh, he dove in to place a kiss on her neck before pulling back again. She did laugh, pulling a hand out from under her head to shove at his shoulder.

She lifted a finger. "Hey, none of that. We're in public."

"Public schmublic." To emphasize his point, he swung himself over to brace his elbow on her towel on her other side, hovering over her, and he leaned down to swallow her giggles in a kiss. He broke the kiss and gave out a quiet, maniacal snicker. "Let them gawk. I'll be the envy of all Kauai."

Sarah threw her head back with a laugh. "You're such an idiot."

"Yes," he agreed, chuckling.

But as he shifted to teasingly sling one leg over both of hers to further emphasize his point, he felt sand grind against his jellyfish sting and he hissed in pain, rolling onto his back and going rigid. "Ow ow ow, oh my God. Mistake."

She pushed herself up and rolled onto her side, propping herself up on her elbow, concern in her face as she slipped her sunglasses back on over her eyes. "You okay?"

"Yeah." He gave her a disgruntled look. "Forgot about the sting for a second."

"Oh. Shit. Here." She pushed herself up to her knees and reached over for her bag, tugging a bottle out. "Rinse it with water to get the sand off, pat it dry, and rub some of this over it. It'll make it feel a little better."

"Thanks, Doctor Walker." She sent him a look and he laughed. "I'm being sincere. Thank you. My crack about Doctor Walker aside. I'm grateful. I appreciate you."

"Yeah, you'd better." How did that arched eyebrow of hers get him so good even when it was half obscured by her Aviators?

He did exactly as she instructed while she supervised, sitting up next to him, handing him what he needed. At one point, he thrust his hand out to her, not looking at her, and snapping out a business-like, "Scalpel."

She cracked up and pushed teasingly at the side of his head. "Jackass…"

When he finished, he gave her a look, wanting her approval, and she read it loud and clear, lifting her hands and giving him a golf clap. He laughed, shaking his head, and he leaned in and kissed her solidly. Her body sagged forward against his, almost like she was letting herself melt into him, her hand coming up to touch him, her fingers combing through the hair at the base of his neck, her thumb stroking over his jaw.

He was careful to find an appropriate place on her waist to put his hand, mimicking what she'd done with her thumb, stroking her skin that was sticky with sunscreen lightly, feeling her shiver against him.

With a quiet hum, she wrapped her other arm around his shoulders and let him support her weight, her chest pressing into his. He wanted more but he just held her, kissing her, letting her control whether things progressed or not.

Chuck was perfectly satisfied to just stay here doing this for the rest of the day.

And then there was a whistling sound nearby, and the sound of feet shuffling through sand. Sarah broke the kiss finally and Chuck blinked his eyes open and followed her gaze as he saw she'd glanced back over her shoulder.

The surfer was making his way up the beach, a big toothy grin on his face, his blond hair curling kind of perfectly around his head, all tanned and muscled, the top half his wetsuit pulled down to hang limply at his waist.

It was all very unfair.

"Hey, baby, why don't you give me a call when you're through with this dude?" He threw the shaka sign at her, then winked at Chuck a little meanly, Chuck thought. Then again, everything about this interruption was pretty mean.

"Excuse me?" Sarah asked, and he felt the hand she had on his shoulder squeeze, almost as if it was involuntary.

"I'm just saying. Girl like you is kind of a waste on him." He said it even as he shuffled past them, still grinning. He flexed idiotically, shifting his board under his arm.

And Chuck knew it was stupid, that he was being sensitive, but he blushed in embarrassment, his chest contracting at the harshness of the very fit, modelesque surfer's words. The guy was a fucking moron, an asshole, and it still sort of…hurt.

Sarah swiveled her body to face him better, and Chuck saw her jaw clench. "Hey, how about you call me after you've called a doctor to help you pull your head out from the deepest depths of your ass, you piece of shit?"

Chuck's eyebrows shot straight into his hairline as the man stumbled a bit in the sand, gaping at her. That was…unexpected, apparently.

He recovered as best he could, chuckling, whistling patronizingly, and shaking his head. "Damn, girl. That is cold."

But he walked away, only looking at them once more over his shoulder, before continuing on with his life.

Sarah whipped around again. "Fuck that guy. And fuck literally all asshole straight guys who play that game. Like they get to just talk to whoever they want like that with no fucking consequences. I should've punched him in his damn neck." She growled in frustration, pushing a hand through her hair, then shaking both of her arms out, as if to try to get rid of the angry tension in her body.

"I would've paid money to see that, but I think the blow you delivered with your words had a lot more impact than a punch to the neck," Chuck said, his eyebrows still in his hairline. "The guy almost fell on his face."

"I wish he had. Fucking asshole."

"He is definitely a fucking asshole. Dudes like that are so entitled. Totally the worst. But, uh, he isn't exactly wrong about you being wasted on a guy like me." He gave her a crooked smile, still feeling like someone was squeezing his chest and doing his best to cover it up.

Sarah just turned and looked at him, surprise in her face. Her eyebrows shot up, and she turned to look at the water. A mask slid over her features, her jaw clenched again, and she shook her head.

She was annoyed. He could tell.

"I'm going out into the water for a bit," she announced, climbing to her feet, her movements quick, her body rigid and tense.

"Oh. Yeah. Cool. Want me to co—"

"No, you get to stay here," she interrupted snappily, holding a hand out in front of him. He widened his eyes, looking up at her. "Maybe think for a while about what you just said."

And she ripped her sunglasses off, dropping them onto her towel before she walked away from him.

All he could do was stare at her as she retreated. She didn't look at him again, walking into the waves, before diving under one of them. Hurt stinging at his chest, he kept watching as her head popped up on the other side.

Chuck let out a rough breath and flattened his legs, burying his toes in the sand, letting his head fall back and shutting his eyes, feeling the warmth against his face. What had he said that pissed her off that bad, that she didn't even want to talk to him? She just got up and walked away.

He reminded himself that she'd at least gone in the direction of the water and not up the beach. She hadn't walked all the way away from him.

He hated this feeling. She was mad at him. He didn't get it. He hadn't said the things that asshole had said. He hadn't put the surfer there to say that shit. And she had more than proven she could take care of herself with douchebags like him. Should he have said something to the guy?

No. It wasn't that. She specifically said, Maybe think for a while about what you just said.

What did he even say?

Oh.

Wait.

He'd agreed with the asshole, that she was wasted on him. That was when she got annoyed. But wasn't it the truth? Sarah Walker was wasted on literally every guy there was. And that included Chuck Bartowski. If anything, it was a compliment, wasn't it? She was too good for him, definitely too good for that beach bum, too good for the man bun in that gift shop, too good for literally every human being that had ever walked this earth.

That was a fact.

Like, sure, the guy's intention was to be a dick to Chuck when he'd said it, but that didn't mean it wasn't true.

He'd pissed Sarah off by agreeing with the sentiment though. She was clearly pissed off. At him. Not just at the douchebag. He hated it. It felt like crap. He had to fix it. These last couple of days were supposed to be spent with her, living every single moment to its fullest. And he'd somehow managed to piss her off instead.

Was he going to spend the rest of his vacation sitting in his hotel with this sucky feeling of knowing he'd fucked this up by having a big mouth? Was this it? Had he pissed her off enough that she'd come back out of the water, tell him to pack it up, take him back to her house, call him a Lyft, and toss him and his suitcase into it? Sayonara…

Shit.

How did he fuck up this bad?

Maybe he would follow that surfer and punch him in the neck. God damn it.

No, he should punch himself in the neck. Because she hadn't seemed angry at him until he'd said something.

Chuck just sat there for a good half hour, watching Sarah when he could see her, switching his gaze back to his lap, a bubble of hurt still lodged in his chest, wondering how she was the pissed one, when the crack about her being wasted on him was directed at him. It was meant to do him harm.

Not Sarah.

He just didn't understand.

And he wasn't any closer to understanding when she finally emerged from the ocean, dripping. She pushed her hair back, away from her face as she neared him. And he was just glad she was back so that he could figure out what in the hell this was about.

Sarah met his gaze as she reached their spot, and she still looked annoyed, though a little less actively pissed.

"H-Hi. How was the…um, water?"

She didn't respond, and dread coursed through him as she paused, standing above him. It was the moment of truth where she'd tell him to get his shit, going through the motions of sending him out of her life for good.

But then she turned around and lowered herself to sit next to him, grabbing an extra towel to wipe dab at her wet skin.

"S-Sarah, I'm…confused. I know I must've made you angry but I don't really know what—what did I say? I'm sorry. For…whatever it is."

Sarah sighed heavily and shut her eyes, shaking her head. "You really don't get how hurtful what you said is."

"Hurt-hurtful?" He raised his eyebrows and turned to face her better. "Did I hurt you? If I hurt you—I didn't meant to hurt you. God, that's the last thing—"

"I know," she said, interrupting him. She looked at him finally and pursed her lips thoughtfully. "I know you weren't trying to. But it's disappointing that you felt like it was okay to agree with what that piece of shit hurdled at us."

He swallowed, his throat very dry suddenly. She was disappointed and God damn it, that felt so much worse. "I'm sorry."

"I know you're sorry, just…generally. But you still don't get it, do you? How what you said was hurtful." He opened his mouth to answer, but realized he didn't know how to. Because she was right. He didn't get it. Sarah huffed. "You're such a good guy, Chuck, but there are some things you seem so…clueless about."

He sat up a bit straighter. "Hey…"

She winced and shook her head, reaching out to squeeze his arm in apology. "I'm sorry." She rolled her eyes at herself. "Here I am being patronizing, even while I'm angry with you for being patronizing."

Chuck furrowed his brow in confusion. "Me? Patronizing? Is that why you're mad? Was I being patronizing? That guy's a total douche, yeah, but he was right. A guy like me is far, far beneath you. Objectively."

She growled and pushed the towel through her hair, rubbing vigorously at her wet, blond locks, before dropping it in her lap and shaking her head. "I get it, Chuck. That girl you were with in college did a number on you. She really did. I can see it. I feel it in the way you talk about yourself, and in the way you have a really hard time taking compliments without saying something self-deprecating in response. There are people you met in your life who have done things to make you question your self-worth." Chuck was struck silent, merely listening to her, watching as she tried to gather the right words. "I'm sorry. I really am. You didn't deserve any of it. But I'm especially sorry because it's made you have a really hard time seeing yourself with any sense of appreciation for who you are. That's total garbage."

Sarah took a deep breath then, shaking her head. "But I really need you to hear this part. Listen carefully. Saying something like that—the I'm being wasted on a guy like you bullshit—it's just that. It's bullshit, Chuck." Her blue eyes nearly met his but they darted away again, settling somewhere near his shoulder. He could tell how uncomfortable she was, even as she was obviously heated as well. "I'm—God, I'm so sick of it. You are wonderful, Chuck, so wonderful, but I'm utterly sick of hearing you tear yourself down in order to lift me up." That surprised him, and he could feel himself gaping at her. "Not just that, but this whole thing, specifically the phrasing, about me being wasted. Like… Shit, like I'm a fucking bottle of…" She waved her hand around, searching for her words. "French mineral water being dumped onto astroturf."

"Am…I the astroturf in this situation?"

"Chuck," she groused, her tone exhausted.

"I'm sorry." He cleared his throat.

"He said—and then you repeated it—that I'm being wasted on you, like I'm two thousand bucks spent on a shit designer purse. I'm not an object. I'm not wasted on anything. I'm not a wad of cash or a fucking check or-or made out of gold. I'm a person." She pulled her hand back and thumped her stiff, spread fingers against her chest. "I'm a human being."

His shoulders sagged as the power of her words, their accuracy, slammed into his chest.

"A human being isn't wasted on another human being when…when they're making a choice for themselves. And I've made this choice to spend time with you. Me. It's my time, my energy, my…my body and I get to choose. I make the choice. Nobody else. Especially not that douchey piece of shit who couldn't even managed to catch any of the decent waves that were out there," and in spite of everything, Chuck couldn't help loving that she added that little detail, "but not you either, Chuck. You don't get to tell me that I'm being wasted on you."

Chuck looked down into his lap, brow furrowed, realizing now that he genuinely had screwed up, and starting to actually get how, especially now that she was talking to him about it. He'd hurt her and that felt terrible. It hurt. "Sarah," he breathed into the silence she left there. "I shouldn't have said that, not just because it hurt you. I just shouldn't have said it, period. I apologize."

"I know," she responded, nodding. She was quiet for a few moments, and he didn't interrupt, seeing in her blue eyes that she was formulating her thoughts. Then those eyes swept up to meet his finally. "You've got me so confused. There are these moments of-of real connection with us, at the purest and most…basic level, you know? And in those moments, I'm made out of flesh and blood. I feel so real, so human. Like I'm a part of this planet, like I'm a genuine contributor, an important piece of the puzzle that is this life. And then you stick me up on…a shelf in a trophy case or something. Oh, how can she stand to even look at me?" she groaned melodramatically, pulling her hands up to protect her face like an old school silent movie actress. And Chuck was pulled out of the awestruck trance he was in, watching her speak, listening to the power of her words, stinging a little bit at the last part. He frowned deeply. "It's bullshit. And I get you have reasons for feeling that way about yourself, and that you don't know me well enough yet to really see…ugh, the mess that I actually am." She widened her eyes. "But it kind of sucks, not having my choice respected. I-I'm not trying to lecture you. I'm sorry if it's coming off that way." She brought her hand up to press it to her forehead, shaking her head. And he hated how embarrassed she looked suddenly. "I'm a terrible person, whining at you like this, when all you meant to do was compliment me."

"You aren't," he interrupted, shaking his head. "You aren't terrible."

"I just don't want to be shoved onto a pedestal. I'm always put up on a pedestal. And in the meantime I've got this mirror that nobody else can see apparently, where I can clearly see all of these flaws and faults and hang-ups I've got, on full display, all my blemishes and imperfections. And you come along and make me feel like a person, a regular person, a real, live woman. Respecting my humanity, making me feel like I don't have to be anything else besides…myself. So yeah, it…it hurt to hear you say that. That a girl like me is wasted on you."

"Shit, I'm sorry."

"I know you're sorry. I am, too. I probably overreacted. I-I don't do this. I don't…talk to people. About anything, let alone talking to somebody like this? About something like this?" She scoffed, shaking her head and rolling her eyes at herself. "God, can you tell?"

Chuck didn't know what to say. He'd been knocked back on his ass and for once, he found he was speechless. But Sarah kept going.

"I need you to know that the…disrespect of the whole usage of the word 'waste' aside," Chuck winced at that, feeling like crap, "you might not be able to see your worth, Chuck, because of the shit people in your life before this put you through, but I do see it. It's crystal clear." She looked right into his eyes, her gaze steady, strong, probably for the first time since she came back up from the water. "I don't know when I first saw it, honestly, but the first time I recognized it for what it was… That night, on our date after the dive. It was the end of the date. Well, the first end of the date, when you asked me to park and come up to your hotel room. I said yes for a reason. This isn't freaking pity or—or charity. I know you don't know me well, but you should at least understand by now that I'm not the type of person who gives people my time and energy unless I want to. And I said yes. I said yes to getting into that bed with you." Chuck swallowed hard. "And the…second ending to that date, when you sprinted down the stairs of all of those floors to catch me before I left so you could ask me to stay with you, I stayed. And the next morning, the third and…final ending to that date, I left my phone number for you, where you could see it." Her jaw hardened as she leaned in to make sure he looked right into her face. "Not for a second should you think that I felt like I was wasting anything all those times I chose to be around you, the times I wanted to stay with you." She huffed, looking out to the ocean again. "Nor any of the times after that for over two weeks now, for that matter."

Shit. Oh shit, he needed to find something to say and quick. Because every single word she'd just said was striking true, hitting him dead center, right in his gut. And she deserved something, God damn it. An apology, yes. Agreement, also that, yes. But also an explanation. Preferably one that didn't further insult her or show disrespect. He absolutely saw where she was coming from now. He got it.

"Chuck, I don't just give my time out to whoever the fuck schmuck wanders onto one of my boats. And definitely not this much energy. I didn't go out with you, have dinner with you, have sex with you, bring you to meet my people, let you use Alexei's favorite surfboard, invite you into my home—my safest and most sacred space—numerous times, take you to my bed, get drunk with you, because I…I don't know, feel sorry for you or whatever shit that whole 'wasted' phrasing is supposed to fucking mean."

He nodded, pushing a hand through his curls. The clouds had drifting to obscure the sun, then, and it somehow got a bit more breezy and more humid, both at the same time. "You're right. You're totally right. I apologize. Sincerely." She stared at him and nodded, her eyes lowering to the sand under her damp feet. He followed her gaze, watching as she buried her toes, almost as if she was hiding how raw she was probably feeling. He noticed she tended to hide, and he didn't know why but he didn't judge her for it.

And he was hit again by the reality that she was talking, explaining to him how he'd made her feel. She'd said, admitted outright, that she didn't do this. Ever. And yet, here she was.

Chuck licked his lips, searching for how to respond. Searching for how to say what she deserved to hear, and wanting her to know he meant every word.

"I don't ever want to be the reason why you're hurting. That's the first thing. I regret the shit out of it. I wish I hadn't said that. But you're right. About all of it. You get to make that choice, and you've chosen to spend your time with me, a friggin' nerd who is so not used to getting attention or…anything really from someone as objectively beautiful as you are. Just on the shallow end of things. Sorry, that's just…the truth." She rolled her eyes, sighing at him. "But you're right that my self-worth is in the fuckin' dumpster. This isn't a woe-is-me thing, it's just true. And you've apparently read it all over me which is…kind of embarrassing, honestly." He cleared his throat, pulling his knees up and wrapping his arms around them.

"You kind of show your cards more than anyone I've ever met," she said quietly.

"I know. You really wasted your time trying to teach me poker last night, 'cause I'm a lost cause."

She didn't even crack a small smile, and it made him feel worse.

"Sorry. Defense mechanism. Which…you probably figured out about me by now." He cleared his throat. "The whole card thing." He cleared his throat again, glad that at least this time she smiled just slightly, more of a smirk than anything.

Chuck shoved at the sand with his heel, digging a slow trench in front of his towel distractedly as he gathered his thoughts. "You are human. Flesh and blood," he started, glancing up at her profile, admiring it for a moment, before he turned to look back at the trench. Digging. "You're right that saying shit like you're wasted on…anyone at all… It is disrespectful. I shouldn't have let what he said get under my skin and I shouldn't have repeated it. But…" He let out a rough breath. "I've already said all this. And I've apologized. I don't mean to put you up on a pedestal, or make you uncomfortable. You are human, you are real, you're flesh and blood, and you probably do have flaws…somewhere. Just, honest to God, I've yet to see any."

She squinted at him, then turned her squinting gaze out to the sea again. "Maybe you're not looking hard enough."

Shrugging, he tapped his fingers on his knee. "I don't make a habit of looking for people's flaws or faults or whatever."

Snorting, she tilted her head. "Good point, I guess."

"Look, I'm just very, very aware of my faults, and being in present company… Sarah, you're just so flawless in so many ways. I'm sorry," he rushed out when she gave him a flat look. "I'm sorry, I know…I know that I'm starting down that path again. I'll stop." He winced. "I'll try at least."

That got a wry smile out of her, which was something.

"We're such a strange species," she muttered, and he perked up, interested in where she was going with this. "I look at you and see someone who is…so much of all the good things that it's sometimes a little overwhelming that you're even real. So on the one hand, I get your whole thing, putting me on a pedestal. It's hard not to put you on one. But you're just so…you?" She blinked. "I don't do the word thing as well as you do. You just break out this really charming, lovely crap that makes me melt, and sometimes it's out of nowhere and I can't…do that." She growled in frustration, rolling her eyes at herself. "What I'm trying to say is that you're sitting here and you're listening, whether you agree with me in the end or not, you actually listen to me when I talk to you. Even now, while I'm saying all of this…well, I'm talking about how you upset me. And you aren't just mumbling out an I'm sorry to move on from the situation and smooth things over, you're hearing me. And that, Chuck, is one of the many ways you've made me feel like I'm doing the exact opposite of wasting my time when I'm around you."

Oh. That felt…good. That felt really good. And he felt the smile grow on his face. "Oh."

She giggled softly, pulling one knee up and dropping her cheek on top of it. "Yes, oh." She reached over to poke his shoulder a little harder than was maybe necessary. "That clear some things up for you?"

"A little, yeah," he said, clearing his throat, tugging at the hem of his swim trunks. "Sarah, I know I already said this but I'm sorry. I'm sorry for parroting that asshole's dig on the both of us." She turned to look at him closely, one eyebrow raised. He thought he detected something of a smile pulling at the corners of her mouth. "I see that now. He wasn't just insulting me, he was dehumanizing you too, making you into a commodity instead of a person."

It was like something in her had snapped. She reached over and cupped his face, leaning in even as she pulled him to her, and she kissed him warmly, moving her lips over his as he let out a little moan.

When she broke it, he felt a crooked, dreamy smile grow on his face.

He let himself sober up for a few moments as she watched him quietly, and then he reached down to pick her hand up, squeezing. Her blue eyes fastened on his brown ones and he lowered his chin just a bit, looking up through his eyelashes.

"I'm not gonna ask that you forgive me, Sarah… Just that you let me sit here."

Sarah turned to face him better, and a melodious giggle finally broke through as she shook her head. "I forgive you and you can sit here, how's that?"

"Thank you," he said warmly, taking a deep breath, relief going through him. He reached up and scratched the back of his head, still bothered by the fact that he'd upset her. "Thanks for telling me all of this," he finally said, interrupting the much more comfortable quiet that fell between them. "And I'm going to try really hard not to let my own hang-ups and lack of self-esteem make me not show respect for your agency and your ability to make your own choices." He frowned. "Did that make any sense? It made sense in my head and then it sounded weird coming out of my mouth."

"It made sense," she said with a smile, nodding. "And I appreciate it." She nibbled on her lip, ducking her chin, and then she tilted her head to look at him again. "I really hate when I let guys like that get to me."

He raised his eyebrows. "He got to me, too. Obviously." He gave her an embarrassed look and she squeezed his hand reassuringly. It worked. He felt reassured. "And it sucks because that was his goal, and you know it. You know he was just trying to upset us 'cause he's a dick, and it still worked, and that makes me so annoyed."

"Exactly. It pisses me off that he kinda won."

"In one way, I guess he did. But that parting gift you gave him was…" He did a chef's kiss with the hand that wasn't holding hers. "Call a doctor to get his head out of his ass? Oh my God."

She laughed. "That just came out."

"Completely unpracticed. Truly a masterpiece. He almost fell on his ass."

"I wish he had. Prick." They chuckled together, but she sobered up pretty quick, pursing her lips and twisting them to the side. "I just…you know, I get tired of being seen as, like…some prize that gets passed around between men. The way he came up, saw me with you, and inherently saw me as a thing he deserves. Like a…bonus at a job or something. It bothers me that there are so many men out there who would think the same thing, even if most of them wouldn't say it out loud like he did. Like they see me as a trophy. That's such a cliché," she said, rolling her eyes, "but it's how it feels. Like I'm not a person making a decision about who gets my attention, like I don't have feelings. He doesn't deserve you, but I do. Like, what the fuck? No. I decide who deserves me. The end." She sighed, pulling his hand closer to her and wrapping her other hand around it too. "And I know you didn't mean it in the same way, I know you don't see me like that, but hearing you agree with what he said, after you've been such a welcome change the last two weeks, giving me space to be myself, making me feel real and solid, treating me like a person. It…didn't feel great."

Chuck felt the twinge in his chest as he nodded. "I'm sure. I'm glad I've made you feel the…other way the last two weeks though. I'd like to keep doing that in, erm, the few days remaining. And not…the dehumanizing douchey stuff."

"You're not a douche," she said quickly. "You're coming from a totally different place, and I know that. You genuinely don't think you deserve good things and I…" She huffed, leaning her arm against his, her weight against him. "You have no idea how much I get it." She slapped her hand over theirs then, a sense of finality to it. "Let's go in the water. Both of us this time."

"Uhhhhhh…" He shook his head vehemently.

"Come on. It'll be good for your leg."

"I don't have the greatest track record in there." He shook his head even harder.

"Chuck, before you were stung by the jellyfish yesterday, you surfed. You stood up on the surfboard and let the wave carry you in. And frankly, you had better form than that fucker with his fancy board and wetsuit."

He perked up a bit. "Did I?"

She smirked. "You're so cute. But yeah, you did." She tugged on his hand then, crawling up to her feet. "Come on. I'll be extra watchful for any sea creatures. The water's super clear today so it'll be easy. Come with me. Please?" She half-pouted down at him and tugged on his hand.

Chuck squinted up at her. "God damn it, you're so hard to say no to." And he let her pull him to his feet. It wasn't just that she was hard to say no to. He'd hurt her enough that she felt the need to say something about it, and after her drunken crack last night about how she was closed off like a cactus or a porcupine, it probably took a lot for her to speak up. He was grateful to her for being honest, but he also felt like he…owed her. Big time.

And letting her drag him back into the ocean that had nearly killed him twice—okay just the one time, he was being melodramatic about the jellyfish sting—was just the first step for Chuck Bartowski.

As the refreshing sea foam crawled over his toes, letting himself be pulled further into waves, to his knees, then his hips, and his waist, Chuck began to formulate what the next step might be. A way to not just thank her for her honesty, but to repay her for it. And he thought perhaps it might open the door for another conversation altogether.

A/N: Thanks for reading. Please review.

-SC