A/N (1) Previously on Chuck versus The Journey: The morning after Sarah's panic attack finds Chuck and Sarah in a good mood and harmony. For some reason, enervating all Charah shippers, they are still innocently lying in bed and eventually decide that their next stop is breakfast. That's when we zoom in and eavesdrop on them.

A/N (2) I don't own Chuck. I'm not making any money from this.

I wanna be loved by you,
Just you and nobody else but you.
I wanna be loved by you alone,
Pooh pooh bee doo!
I wanna be kissed by you,
Just you and nobody else but you.
I wanna be kissed by you alone.
I couldn't aspire
To anything higher
Than to fill the desire
To make you my own.
Paah-dum paah-dum doo bee dum, pooooo!
"I Wanna Be Loved By You" (Ruby Harry, Stothart Herbert & Kalmar Bert)

Chapter 27: Sarah vs. The Solitary Shower

Chuck nodded and changed the topic abruptly. "I'm going to call Casey. You need the day off," he explained while reluctantly rolling over to his side and grabbing his phone from the nightstand. He didn't know where their nearness would lead them, and as the past few minutes had given him at least a stimulating idea, it was painful to break the contact with her – whether it was as a true friend or a hopeful lover. To envision he could be both and all in between made him dizzy.

"No!" Sarah objected more vehemently than she wanted because all she craved was spending a secluded day with him and finding out about all aspects of her feelings. All of them. Even if she needed to shower again then. "I'll be fine."

"You're anything but fine," Chuck replied, friendly but maddeningly firm in his attempt to be a good companion. "You need so much more than a few hours, but it seems that's all we can get," he continued with a heavy sigh while putting the phone to his ear.

"Oh my God, Chuck, don't!" she cried out and launched over. "They'll pull me from the mission in an instant."

Sarah grasped for the phone, and he couldn't help but laugh, stretching his long arm so she couldn't reach his hand.

"What are we going to do now?" he snickered but was dumbfounded when she swiftly sat on him. Her move came in a blur, and he didn't know if she jumped, or crawled or flew, but it was mind-blowingly feline. He almost expected her to land on his chest on all fours as cats do. She looked down at him and read his thoughts as if somebody wrote these on his forehead. She produced a jolly hiss, and one of her hands mimicked to claw at his nose like a playful kitty.

"Give it to me," she huskily whispered, comfortably supporting herself with her hands on his chest and eyeing him in a possessive way. I am a kitten. Everything I put my paws on is mine!

Has she got any idea what she's doing? Chuck blinked.

The seconds he wondered were long enough for her to grab his wrist and pull the hand holding the phone down.

"That's so wicked! But you haven't won yet!" he exclaimed as he realized she was undoubtedly the better fighter and would succeed. He used his whole length to roll her over, then pinned her down with his weight while keeping the phone out of her reach.

"Ha, Agent Walker!" he gleefully panted as he noted her flabbergasted expression. She squirmed under him. He expected that to be the beginning of her counter-attack, but it wasn't.

"Child's play," she shrugged and stared into his eyes. "You'll be begging for mercy faster than Morgan can hide from a customer."

"You noticed that too? - Yeah, sure you do. You're our local bad-ass."

"Bad-asses kick asses, and your firm buns are pretty much in danger if you don't hand over that phone in-stant-ly."

He registered her lack to attempt escaping their little trial of strength. It even seemed she liked his weight on her. It was easy to see that she enjoyed their little fight that currently was frozen in a pose that looked more like love-making than fighting. It took his breath away as if a surrounding vacuum sucked all the air out of the room. He suddenly understood that she was playing with him. She could have had that phone with her very first whack.

The realization made his task even more challenging as the little tussle received a subtle but unmistakable erotic touch.

"I won't make it easy for you," Chuck warned. "If my buns are getting punished, you should know you've been in a fight. I insist you give me the dignity a real warrior deserves."

He could feel laughter well up in her and searched her eyes, sparkling with healthy sensuality and the innocent joy of their playful rumble, the melange of expressions making a hell of a sexy impression on him.

"Who says I'm gonna punish you?" she asked with a voice that ultimately left open what she really would do, from kicking his ass to kissing his lips. "But you'll get what you deserve sooner or later."

Chuck found it hard to maintain his resistance. With superhuman strength, he managed to bring the hand with the phone to his chest, place his second hand over the first, and then bow his head so he could press his chin as the third line of defense over his hands. With a mocking challenge, he stared from under his eyelashes at her, biding her next move. Sarah gave him the wildest of looks as her eyes bore into his in surprise.

If she says, 'Here's lookin' at you, kid!', now, I will faint instantly, Chuck thought before he understood the reason for her stare when he noticed that he had nestled his head cozily between her breasts in the heat of the battle. His ears instantly turned redder than the most perfect San Marzano tomato from sunny Italy.

"Found a nice spot to rest your weary fuzzy-wuzzy?" she asked, to his amazement with a face that was not at all annoyed. As fraught with barely restrained sensuality their frolic had become, he somehow had expected that she would define the boundaries within which they played this game and that he had gone outside the envelope.

"Errrm," was all Chuck could utter, the dilemma of staying clear of her delicate parts and not giving up his entrenched position evident. "Hmm-mm," he added, equally intellectual as the daredevil inside the nerd suddenly was compelled to fathom her true intentions. He suspected she lulled him into a false sense of security as she was her agency's best, and he knew she didn't like to lose - at a religiously fanatical level. So she would make it her personal mission to prevail.

He expected something pretty shrewd, as she obviously wasn't going to wrestle the phone away by sheer force. Her eyes were surreptitiously tender as she reached up and put her hands on his shoulders, slowly stroking his arms and then gliding to his sides. The moment he thought he had to close his eyes and moan with delight, he was nonplussed when she began to tickle him mercilessly.

So much for a tricky, diabolically masterful martial arts maneuver! He thought. She simply tickles me!

"So unfair!" he giggled, after only seconds holding his sides and rolling away to escape her fingers. "Mercy!" he squealed just like she had predicted and dropped the phone. Sarah swiftly picked it up and moved into a safe distance, waggling the phone triumphantly at him.

"That was fun," she smirked. "But no real challenge."

"Hmmph," he made. "And no masterpiece of artful combat – tickling me? Pretty girlish! Did the CIA teach you such things?"

"We learn to always use the most efficient way," she smiled. "And considering your girlish screams, will you deny that it worked?"

He sat up and could not help but grin at her. He had lost their little locking of horns, but if her demeanor was any hint, he could have attacked her for revenge, and who knows where that could lead.

"Now," he remembered her recent words and repeated and emphasized these as he stretched out his hand, "give it to me."

At least she has the decency to blush, he noted, which of course, opens up a whole new trend of thought about the meaning when she spoke those words.

She looked at the phone in her hand. The only one who knew what she's been through last night was the one that promised to shelter and protect her - Chuck. All of a sudden, the little rumble seemed useless – except for the fun she had. She was tempted to go another round but then grinned back at him and handed him the device. She could not resist doing that with a very generous gesture that expressed more than any words she could say that he could never get it if she didn't want to.

"Yeah, right, you win again," he referenced their joyful scramble in the ocean yesterday as he selected the short dial for Casey.

"Hi Casey, it's Chuck. Yes, I know. Who else would it be? Hmm-mm. … Listen, Casey, it seems Sarah ate something bad last night. She's a bit greenish about the nose.… Yeah, it can happen anywhere. … It looks like a mild case of food poisoning. … Sure, I'll tell her. … Yes, I gladly spare you any details about how her night went. Can you and Carina take care of surveillance, and I'll see that I get her back in shape for tonight? … Yep, I can take care of her. Remember, I'm the guy whose big sister is a doctor… Yes, I'm sure she'll be OK. Aha. Hm. … What? No, Major, this is no excuse to squeeze some vanilla cream into her whoopie pie… oh crap! - OK. You can call anytime. Bye, Casey."

She propped herself up at her elbows. "Casey bought that?"

Chuck shrugged. "Why shouldn't he?"

She looked at him, impressed. "You know, you are pretty amazing. Thank you."

He shrugged again. "It's the natural thing to do for my partner. Super-spies take care of each other."

You are utterly wrong, she thought. I am so thankful that you aren't a spy. She didn't share the thought but requested, "What is it that you would tell me from him?"

"He said, and I quote-" Chuck drew quotation marks into the air in front of him "-spoiled little CIA tummy, and that you should have seen the stuff he was eating while he was in Afghanistan."

She snickered weakly. "Now, I'm happy that I don't have food poisoning."

"Speaking of food... I'm going to get some chamomile tea for you." He raised his right index finger and wiggled it negatively. "No coffee today."

She pouted. "You could phone it, so you don't have to leave." … me.

"I want to pick what I bring up myself. You enjoy your shower. Or do you need … help?"

"Help?" she echoed, then understood that he was a bit overprotective after last night. While she was undoubtedly capable of showering herself, she took up the opportunity to return to the flirty banter that had cooled down since his phone call. You couldn't be seriously flirty while Casey was present, even if he was on the phone only.

"Is that an invitation to shower with me?" she asked, her tone promising at least as much excitement as a Skinemax movie.

The phone almost fell from his hands. "No, it's not. If we did that, you would have to call an ambulance."

"Why's that?"

"Look at yourself!"

She did so. Her gaze leisurely wandered over her frame. Sarah knew his followed her like hypnotized. For a change, it was Chuck who had trouble breathing.

"So, what about me?" she slurred, enjoying the effect she had on him.

"I would have a heart attack before even…"

"Before what, Chuck?" she probed into the subject when he trailed off.

He sighed in defeat. "Before you're properly inside the shower and all wet," he stammered, calling himself an idiot.

"You saw me yesterday at the beach, all wet... but in a bikini," she reminded him.

"Well, Sarah, technically, it was half a bikini, at least for a while."

"And I thought you didn't look! Did you peekaboo on me?"

"I didn't! But even a polite a guy has an imagination, and if it gets triggered so mercilessly-"

"You think I was merciless? I thought you had enough encounters with Carina to know what mercy is – or lack thereof."

"Don't mention her today, please. It was such a lovely morning."

She was momentarily piqued by the earnestness in which he voiced that. There must have been more to his conversation with Carina yesterday than he had admitted.

"But still, bikini or no bikini is a major difference!" He did not give up. At least, she considered, his brain is still functioning to the extent to realize that people usually shower unclothed.

"If I remember correctly, every piece I tried yesterday was too small. Now it's major. You really should make up your mind."

"I will. And I'm going to get breakfast while you shower the night away."

Chuck got up. Sarah averted her eyes as he slipped out of his t-shirt and began to dress. She had been in his arms the whole night, but that had been a different situation. He had been a true friend she could trust her life to then, and now he was a man she wanted to share her love with. You'd better not sneak a peek but give him some privacy.

She could watch him in the mirror anyway and absent-mindedly did so. He looked great. He wasn't the brawny type, but there was not an ounce of fat on him, and she envisioned stroking that chest or laying in these arms. But he had left the bed and was out of reach. She countered the little melancholy she felt by taking a deep breath that made him turn and told him about a beautiful observation she made.

"Hey, Chuck - I wanted to say that I really liked to wake up beside you."

In his eyes, the pleased gleam was tempting enough to share a few more truths, but she eventually decided it was the polite thing to wait for his reply.

"Me too! Absolutely hyper!"

"Hyper," she repeated with an amused snort before another detail in Chuck's phone talk with Casey surfaced to her memory.

"Say, Chuck, what did Casey mean that you squeeze some vanilla cream into my whoopie pie?"

The man spoken to rushed to the door with the worst faked cough in recorded history, making a quote like, 'Read my lips: no new taxes!' appear as honest as Romeo's oath of love to Juliet.

"Look, Sarah. I'm hungry. Really, really famished. To quote Schwarzenegger, I'll be back!"

He was out the door in a blur, leaving an embarrassed reverberation and a tickled Sarah behind. She laughed, knowingly, sensuously. She didn't feel as confident and sassy as her laughter implied, but still, she was sure it would ring in his ears all the way down.

•••••••••••••••••••

Sarah stood in the bathroom and leaned on a vanity table towards the mirror on the wall. The table expanded on the theme that continued the ritzy marble feature the Palacio del Mar celebrated. The stones were white and featured pink patterns for the bathroom, more so on the walls, less so on the floor. The generous room's lighting was cleverly arranged, creating small islands of brightness for the two vanities, the walk-in shower, and the two-person whirlpool. The hotel indeed had not pinched one penny to add all the extras, so ladies had only to bring their garments. Willing hands discreetly supplied a vast assortment of everything imaginable in toiletry in equally discreet smallish caskets, avoiding making the room look crammed or the tables overloaded.

But at this moment, the most exquisite ingredient was the naked figure of Sarah Walker, slightly bending forward to study her face with a critical eye. The relaxed pose still added a delicious soft little stretch to her muscles that emphasized her fitness and accentuated her curves. She had worried about her face after a rough night that had not allowed too much rest, but what little she had gotten had been in Chuck's calming and strengthening arms. The damage her troubles had done disappeared with the sweat and angst she rinsed down the drain, and she treaded out of the shower like Aphrodite.

Alone. You were too inept to pick up Chuck's offer to help you in the shower!

Sure, Chuck had spoken with innocent overprotectiveness, and she could not mind him. The panic attack he witnessed must have been frightening for him as well.

But you could have gratefully accepted his offer. Chuck did not think this through to the end, but you missed the opportunity to get clean and dirty at the same time. Gee, Walker, are you serious that you wanna get laid? What more can a fellow do than to offer his kind support to your naked, appetizing, and wet frame? Even though he didn't know ahead of time what help you'd coax him into, I'm pretty sure I wouldn't have needed to force him to stay with a weapon. Au contraire, the only smoking gun would be,… but, well, dumbhead, you fucked it up – or missed precisely that. Whichever way you look at it, you had to shower - alone.

Sarah took two steps back and watched her figure. It had been way too long that she looked at herself as a woman, and both the long time and the moment right now were owed to the man that currently was picking up breakfast for them.

The story of my year in Burbank! Wanting Chuck so much while refusing him and not willing to find quick distraction in someone else's arms, I expected to wake up some mornings, and cobwebs would cover the spot between my thighs!

She fell for Chuck so fast when she came to Burbank that she could not comprehend it - and then denied it with the self-evidence of a well-trained agent who knew that feelings are poisonous. Her heart – to which she listened as much as Chuck listened to an order to stay in the car – knew all the time that the poison she fled from would be her elixir of life someday and had kept her from having affairs.

Not that she had not considered having some fun. Sarah, she had admonished herself a few times, you're a young and healthy woman, you should behave like that and misbehave now and then. Once done with the day's spy work and leaving Chuck under Casey's trustworthy surveillance, she sometimes visited a few Sunset Strip clubs for a drink or two. The effect on the neighborhood was enormous.

Guys of all shapes and sizes and even some celebrities – some she had filed as in a relationship - puffed themselves up like peacocks to snatch one hot night with the mysterious blonde bombshell who was so sparing with her words.

Allowing my eyes to wander, I checked les boys out like having strolled into a deluxe store specializing in extra virile studs before choosing the spot where I enter the dance floor. You gotta make an impression, gotta make their ears ring with red-alert, make their eyes pop out like those of Tex Avery's wolf after seeing Red Hot Riding Hood, and make those jeans and trousers sitting tight - and then pick yourself a treat like picking your favorite confection at Dylan's Candy Bar in New York.

But every time she stepped into the crowd to dance, she was overwhelmed how desperately she sought curly hair, nose-wrinkling smiles, and, which did not often happen, lanky fellows taller than her.

Since I am way too proud to settle for cheap substitutes, my interest in a quickie in a stranger's bed ended before it even began. I fooled myself by visiting these clubs.

Every time, she imagined that Chuck miraculously appeared one of those nights.

I will dance with him sultrier than Dita Von Teese's best performance to wipe out any inhibitions he might have. Then… well, I will be too randy to make it home and will pull him into a backroom or a storage room, anything large enough to accommodate his long limbs and my giant need.

Since that never happened, she self-forgotten danced away the day's burdens on her own, while come-ons rolled off of her shoulders like rain off a waterproof jacket. But, once standing at the bar, it was nearly impossible to order a refreshment as half of the place seemed to tumble over to invite her and the testosterone displayed reminded of a strip night featuring the Chippendales.

And the other half of the site wanted to throw her out into the streets by dragging her along with her hair. The crowd wasn't necessarily strictly divided by gender. Sarah's cool attitude towards men seemed to lead some women into guessing that she was at least switch-hitting, so it wasn't all that unusual that female eyes rested on her with sensual appreciation, girls bumped their hips to hers while dancing to initiate contact, or soft hands tried to keep her on the dance floor when she left as soon as a slower song started to play to avoid men seeking her embrace. She was chatted up by women trying to allure her, engaged in mild flirts with them, and studied their techniques to allure her. You're never too old to learn new tricks.

Unfortunately for everyone who approached her, she was centered so firmly on one single specimen that she never was anywhere near to do more than throwing back and forth breezy banter.

All that had done my self-esteem good, but at the same time, the painful frustration that Chuck was nowhere to be seen made all those slick places look like the dumps I have seen in South America.

She had only accepted a very few cocktail invitations at the bar, and she had rather quickly balked all hopes of those men to continue these drinks with a nightcap at their rooms.

Not that I wasn't tempted sometimes. Or… almost tempted. Or... tempted if my situation had been different. Being lonely for a long time never had been so hard - because of Chuck. My heart was in limbo, but I was not accepting that I was ready for him. I blocked him successfully, but you can't block your feelings forever. If I only had known that a year ago. So I listened to some guys longer than I wanted, smiled my smiles, made some eyes bulge and some heads explode, and, in a nutshell, flirted a bit - just not to get out of practice altogether.

Possibly there was one or the other man I was unfair to, some who could have been passable boy toys for a while or nice for a short extraintersectual affair. Still, neither a one-nighter nor a relationship was acceptable for me. I was hooked on Chuck's charm long before I accepted it. Unlike in some silly TV dramedy show, I did not have to fall for the wrong guy to only discover in the season finale that Mr. Right had been right under my nose all this time.

Initially, Sarah had attributed her absence from the playgrounds of love to the unorthodox but most crucial assignment of protecting the single most essential intelligence asset the United States ever had. As time passed, she knew better why she turned everyone else down. She could have found partners galore to exercise her lovemaking skills, but the next morning she would wake up with Chuck on her mind. Chuck, not the Intersect.

Sarah had no idea of the concept of being loyal. The only time she had been with a man long enough to try faithfulness was with Bryce. She couldn't have tried monogamy with a wronger example of the male population. But she knew it would hurt tremendously later if she bedded any club pickup while having Chuck in her heart. So she never did, staying faithful to Chuck even though it was uncertain if there would ever be anything between them.

And now I'm standing here, dressing for the kill. White silk, sexily cut, lots of skin, and a plunging neckline for my nerd. If I lean forward a trifle… so I can entice him with a little bit of what I got… like this… yup, the cleavage I can see in the mirror should fry Chuck's brain to toast. … But that's not showing a little bit. It's very ample. Hm. I don't even have to lean over as that thing is more or less see-through. And if I leave off the panties - how long would I wear 'em anyway? -, he can glimpse into paradise. Hm again. Adding a bit of decorum by throwing over a terrycloth bathrobe? Or change altogether? Chrissakes, Sarah, you have only a few minutes more until he shows up and if you don't make up your mind, all you can do is open the door naked!

The thought - or better the thought what his reaction would be - was hilarious. She was distracted by her inner cinema displaying the picture of an unconscious Chuck while Sarah-au-naturel gave mouth-to-mouth resuscitation to revive him. Scientists worldwide would marvel over them two because once he reawakens, he promptly would pass out again over the fabulous sight – Chuck would find me beautiful, would he? – and then the mouth-to-mouth game would begin, and the perfect Perpetuum mobile would be born.

Sarah contemplated her options and hummed a melody played at the night of the banquet that came back to the surface, now that she felt the same joyful determination the music expressed. She snapped her fingers as she had an inspiration, then briskly walked to the bathroom door and peeked out.

Okay, no Chuck. Now, hurry, girl!

A bit of insecurity snaked into her preparations. She knew Chuck found her attractive, but what if she wasn't sexy enough to start his motors?

What if I present my vulnerable side to him, and he rejects me? I wouldn't survive it. She snickered. And he wouldn't either, after all I've gone through to arrive at this spot in my life.

And what if they both found out in that moment of truth that he still preferred brunettes more? The sandwich girl's interlude had been a vital lesson: Brunettes lurked in every nook and cranny, and there will come the day when other girls want your boyfriend as sure as that tycoon would bleat 'You're fired' at the end of that insufferable reality show which she had seen way too often out of the sheer boredom of her nights. Those nights she watched reality TV, soap operas, and late nite talk masters, and the most exciting moments arrived when shopping channels or commercial breaks offered huge knife sets for aspiring housewives.

Sarah went back, undressed, and neatly folded the garment to leave it at the vanity. She continued to hum that little melody in blithe anticipation, and only clad in her white panties, strolled out, mirthfully declaring, 'Attention, naked Sarah crossing!' to the empty honeymoon suite.

That was precisely the moment when the door opened, and a buoyant Chuck entered, shoving a jingling tea wagon into the room.

"Darn, Chuck, you shouldn't see that yet!" she cursed aloud for dallying so long until she walked topless onto him.

•••••••••••••••••••

A/N (3) You're fired / Read my lips: No comments or quotes I used carry a political message. They have found their place in the public consciousness and should be understood as such.

A/N (4) Next update will come early, still this week.

A/N (5) Reviews? Comments? Annotations? Insults? Job offers?