A/N (1) Previously on Chuck versus The Journey: Sarah shared the worst part of her life with Chuck. Langston Graham had raped the teenage Sarah Walker only days after he recruited her for the CIA. It had been a calculated move to break any of her resistance in his quest to form the perfect killer dependent solely on him, the director's own wildcard and Enforcer. He assured himself secrecy for his deed and continued obedience from Sarah by blackmailing her with her father's safety, whom he had relocated to a secret CIA facility, threatening to have Jack Burton killed. At the end of the chapter, we were treated to an extremely moving moment of Sarah Walker declaring her love for Chuck Bartowski. Finally. It seems the agent and the nerd have a bright future ahead after all, if Chuck doesn't get himself killed, if Sarah doesn't lose her memory, if Jeffster don't burn down the hotel, if… oh well, better start with the chapter!
Pretty face,
I know a swingin' place,
Come on, dance with me.
Romance with me on a crowded floor.
And while the rhythm swings what lovely things I'll be sayin'.
And what is dancin' but makin' love set to music, playin'.
"Come Dance With Me" (Sammy Cahn & James Van Heusen)
Chapter 39: Chuck vs. The Little Black Dress
Chuck's heart skipped a beat when the bathroom door opened, and one single slender and very uncovered leg appeared, teasingly poised in an angled stance, reminding him with searing heat what was there at the end of that leg. He imagined himself to be a cartoon figure as it felt like his mouth dropped all the way down to his expensive shoes. Speaking of cartoons, that one leg seductively sticking out of the bathroom brought memories of Jessica Rabbit's entrance on 'Who Framed Roger Rabbit'. But this one was a live leg, and the moment was fraught with more erotism than even the most talented artist could draw. Chuck's hand jerked, and the phone he was looking at launched into the air. Trying to catch it, he landed on the bed but was successful.
His mouth remained wide open as he turned back to the door, and in a smooth motion, the enticing rest of Sarah appeared, as he could already guess, in a dress that would do a lousy job in protecting her legs from the coldness of the night. Thankfully this was Southern California, and Siberian nights were rather seldom. On the contrary, Chuck suddenly perceived that it was a rather warm evening.
"Gotcha!" he exclaimed as he reclaimed his ability to speak and the phone into his hand, trying to explain his antics. "Silly mobiles. I would be a millionaire if I could invent the phone that can't slip out of your hands. The slipsafe phone, wouldn't that be a catchy name? I can't say how often I notice that people drop their phones," he nervously rattled.
Sarah merely watched him with regal and composed amusement. She stepped into the room, putting one foot in front of the other, her whole appearance screaming to be admired like a piece of art. If she were on display in the Louvre, the museum would put the Mona Lisa into a storeroom as Sarah would take her place.
Sarah Lisa.
It was impossible to imagine that this was the woman that had wept all her make-up away until her eyes were puffy and her maquillage turned Alice-Cooper-style. Sacrificing her make-up to her tears and offering her soul to Chuck had healed her. She looked glowingly beautiful, radiating a silent felicity derived from professing her love to Chuck. In, she was proud, no uncertain terms. No tactics, holding back, or shyness – the word 'love' had featured prominently in her little speech, and God damn everyone who thought she could have been more prosaic or overdid on the L-word!
She still did not say anything and fixed her gaze on Chuck as he got up with a self-deprecating huff. He knew that his words could not fool Sarah and that she picked up how he lost his coolness over her looks. Chuck wasn't shy, embarrassed, or insecure – he simply was overwhelmed. He considered assuring her that he wasn't solely crazy for her beautiful body alone and that his love was not skin-deep but reached depths even an emotional mind like Chuck did not know he possessed.
But telling her so would imply that she thought of him that shallow, and he knew without a doubt that this was not on her mind. He could see it. The mischievous gleam in her eyes was tauntingly alluring, promising that the night would be long if only they could close the mission for good. The soft smile on her lips was innocently expecting, hoping his verdict of her attire would turn out approving.
Then she pirouetted slowly, which certainly made him dizzier than her, allowing him to appreciate the back neckline of the sleeveless dress, which wasn't too deep but still went a few inches below her shoulder blades. The strings weren't spaghetti types, almost an inch wide, as sleek as the whole dress was.
When Sarah came to a halt after a full circle, she put her right hand on her hip, where the dress's soft sweep going up in an asymmetric hem ended way too high on her leg to allow his breathing to return to normal, while the longer side ended almost mid-thigh. It wasn't long enough to stabilize Chuck's breath. The shorter side of the dress was enriched by a diamante fringing that did not cover but drew the look to her flawless legs.
Her glimpses had told her that she accomplished what she wanted. Chuck's brain was about to shut down like a computer whose fan failed and the central processor overheated. She felt heady from the exhilarating insight that although he had seen her mostly undressed all day long, she could invoke this powerful reaction from him in a clothed condition. Well, not wearing sackcloth and ashes, but still far from being indecent, Sarah thought. As Chuck would put it, lightyears from being improper.
He was her boyfriend, and she could make his knees buckle.
It's a wonderful life.
Sarah asked him for the second time in 72 hours. "So, how do I look?"
Chuck gave her the once over at least twice as fast as the eye scanner worked that guarded the entrance to Castle. His gaze for a fracture of a second arrested on her feet. Her rose gold stiletto heels oozed class. Medium-high lace-up straps, crisscrossed twice above her ankles, accentuated the youthful lightheartedness she aimed for.
I should say something, I should! Chuck wondered as he tore his eyes away, discerning without a doubt that his ears changed colors. She is asking for something other than a polite, 'very nice'?
"Any hotter, and you would burst into flames!" he stammered in awe, feeling that all he could say was inadequate and that he as well could utter something archaically male because she had heard his soul speaking many times before that day. "There won't be anyone down there who can look even half as jaw-droppingly stunning as you."
She smiled with sheer delight but wasn't satisfied because he had evaded examining her dress properly. She cherished his respectful attitude like a rare piece of jewelry, but she loved his attitudes when she coaxed him out of his noble demureness to unveil his passionate side equally.
"I never thought I would say that, but my dress is down here," she explained when she registered that he solely looked into her eyes and pointed with the index fingers of both hands at her torso. Chuck blushed, followed the motion, and gulped.
"This is a little black dress, is it?" he asked all aflutter. "Because it's very little. But it's black, yes. Definitely black."
She did not need to put on her best flirtatious smile as it came naturally. No pretending, no acting! she jubilated. Just being me!
"It's a mini dress, Chuck," she confidently explained. "You have seen mini dresses before, have you?"
Sarah indulged in the moment. All she had learned throughout her life, all the ways she could distract and confuse a man, suddenly were important for herself. Like when she sat at a bar during past missions, regardless if she played a shy demoiselle, a sophisticated lady, or a foxy femme fatale. She always was drop-dead gorgeous and attracted all the men twelve blocks in all directions, while Bryce never had any problem sneaking through any security because these guys were undressing her in their minds.
Somehow everything makes sense, she philosophized. All that happened to me, good or bad, was a journey that led me to Chuck. I just wish some of it wasn't so painful. But I am here today, and I can play the game of tease and please with the one man I can invest all of me into.
Her blue orbs piercing, the smoky eye look she had applied turned every one of her looks sultry.
"Yes, no, yes, it's perfect. P-e-r-f-e-c-t. Sarah, you're wickedly breathtaking…" the one man croaked. She didn't give him time to recover and stepped up close, putting her arms around him.
The heat from her body made his head swim. She saucily looked up at him, knowing that he could not help registering that the dress's sweetheart neckline was exceedingly feminine. While not revealing in any indecent way, it presented her most appetizingly. From checking herself in the mirror, she knew that even blind gay men would turn their heads to watch her. Sarah's contentment was complete with the fact that Chuck didn't ogle her. He admired and appreciated her, which made all the difference in the world.
And if a touch of lust appears in his eyes, then it is because I purposely provoke it and because I want to see that expression.
Sarah lost herself in his warm eyes shimmering in so many shades of brown that she thought she could spend hours counting them. And then start all over again.
She was an agent with abandon. It was her calling. But right now, she wanted to take a break from everything.
Say, for two months! Romantic days, happy nights, only Chuck and me and … yesss, lots of it!
She didn't let out the sigh that was within her. Tonight, she had to be an agent, and it was her most important mission - more than ever. The Intersect was the bait, and she was in love with him. All she had cried about was in the past and she should make sure tonight that there would be no more crying, and that gave her the strength to push aside what she told Chuck earlier - at least for the time being.
"Chuck, I know you understand how important this evening is. The chance that this is about an atom-bomb deal is next to nil. This is a major operation to gain hold of the Intersect - no doubt, if you ask me."
The Intersect seemed rightfully nervous. Chuck felt as if somewhere in a secret room, Auric Goldfinger rallied around all the bad guys to forge plans to kidnap him. Once they had him, Goldinger would tie him to a chair and shout at him, 'Mr. Bartowski, I expect you to flash!'.
Sarah's voice shook him out of his day-mare.
"Beckman insists that the analysts have not cleared the Kowalski family, so I will dance with all three of them. Yes, I'm with you, I don't believe it. But since we sit at their table again, it will be natural that they invite me to dance anyway, and don't worry, I'll be careful. But I'm also pretty good at making people talk."
Sarah saw a grain of discomfort in his eyes.
"Don't look that way. You know I won't flirt with any of them."
His answer told her that she had misinterpreted him.
"But you wouldn't be in my arms for these dances. Not only will I miss you, but also I certainly will make a total fool of myself. Look, I can't do these ballroom dances. The one course Ellie got me into to meet girls was ages ago, and I wasn't interested."
A touch of amusement ghosted over her features.
"I'm sure you will leave a good impression, Chuck. You are always better than you think of yourself. We're going to work on your confidence. I'll guide you through our dances, and you will once more check out the people and tell us who you flash on."
Sarah raised her brow slightly.
"And don't forget, General Beckman has decided to follow part of the operation, so she will be plugged into our network. It won't be only you, Casey, Carina, Roan, and me listening and talking – she will hear every word as well."
"Will she observe us all night long?" he asked with a strained intonation.
"Certainly not. Only until a decision is made and it is clear that the mission is running as she expects. … What?"
"I totally adore you," he blurted out of the blue.
It was not that she didn't like the compliment, but it was one of his impromptu changes of topic.
"Huh? Thank you, but please, concentrate on the mission tonight."
"I do, but regarding all that you have told me..." he stammered. "I would be a wreck, well, I am, and look at you, calm, composed…"
He made a helpless gesture with his hands.
"Strength is female, power is female. No, strength and power are Sarah Walker. I know how much you hurt, and I admire how you can keep yourself together."
Sarah rewarded him with a reflective smile. He was right, of course, but the safety of her boyfriend was on the line, so she hadn't time to go back to her own predicaments. She had to make sure that he was there whenever she needed to sort out her past, which meant, she had to compartmentalize from it for the next few hours. But after a year around him, she knew that Chuck could always be relaxed with a little bit of banter.
"Yes, I'm calm," she confirmed. "That has two reasons. First, my dad and the CIA trained me well. Second, Dr. Bartowski gave me a prescription. I did as the doctor said, and it helped more than anything."
"What was the prescription?" he thankfully picked up her playfulness, still dizzily impressed how unfazed she seemed, how she could control her emotions.
"Love. It's ginormous. I feel like Sarah Walker on steroids," she grinned, and she felt that grin, because her words were true. In his presence, after sharing her nightmare, she could relax and be the young, playful woman she had buried inside for so many years. He was the key to her happiness.
"You won't overdose?" Chuck retorted, hardly able not to excitedly bounce from one wall to the other due to the excitement of how frisky she could be, how open about her feelings for him. It was a side of Sarah he had never expected to see. "The doctor said there is no OD on love. Can have it as often as I need it. That's what I do, and I can guarantee you it takes effect immediately."
"I hope you read the package information sheet about side effects?"
What side effects? That I have no idea how this agent couple thing works, having worked alone or bombed with the only partner they ever gave me? That I even would respond with a resounding, Yes!, if he would pop 'the' question, although I am happy without a ring, and marriage really is the very last thing on my bucket list?
"I did," she confirmed and presented a solemn face, not showing that she did some deep thinking in the blink of an eye. "There is one side effect that occurs quite often, statistically speaking - I could get addicted." The mock seriousness of her face turned grave. "I'm afraid it already happened."
"Any cure for that?" he inquired, not sure if he should ask or if it would lead to having Sarah taking care of her make-up a third time.
She shook her head with a droll face.
"No, I have to live with it indefinitely and need to be served with huge doses of love regularly."
Yes, Chuck, I am talking about 'forever', Sarah thought as he checked her features. It is totally freaking me out, but it is my most important mission, and together, we will make it a rousing success. But if I tell you now, you will be too distracted from the other task we have to deal with.
She looped her arm through his, and her eyes beamed like the searchlights of an aircraft carrier.
"You look quite dapper too," she chirped before lowering her voice. "C'mon, there's a ballroom, a big band, and a barrel full of spies waiting."
•••••••••••••••••••
"I am mortified," Chuck sighed.
Sarah's expression was patient and almost motherly. "Don't take it too hard. It can happen to any guy."
"But not that quick!" he miserably objected.
"Hey, when it happens, it happens, don't overthink it," Sarah calmed. "That may interfere with your performance the next time."
It was not so easy to soothe a Chuck Bartowski in self-flagellation mode. He had perfected this over the past six years and had become pretty good at it.
"I feel I let you down. You are perfect, and I could only keep going for…, well, how short was it actually?"
She put a gentle hand on his cheek.
"I think we just went too fast. Next time, we'll take it slower. That will make it easier for you to keep control."
He seemed only half reassured.
"I don't know if I'll ever manage that with you in my arms. I ruined it for you, and I know how much you like to-"
"Stop it," Sarah said determinedly. "It's only a dance! You didn't break any bones when you stepped on my toes that one time early in the dance, and it was a quickstep. An inexperienced dancer like you may easily stumble over the fast pace, so will you forget it."
She looked around at the people dancing, talking and laughing, and could spot several men and women who weren't here for fun at first glance.
"Besides, you are busy with that computer in your brain, so let me help you."
Chuck and Sarah had quickly developed a nicely working routine. They pointed out suspicious people to Casey and Carina sitting at the surveillance monitors, Sarah by sheer experience, Chuck via the Intersect. One thing became apparent – the mission was taking up speed and seemed to reach its climax tonight because there were even more people who, in a nutshell, shouldn't be here. Chuck felt like in a spy movie, but he didn't like that unbeknownst to everyone, he was the object of all the interest.
He feared that all the American Mafia's Capos gathered in an old opera house right now. Then the Capo Di Tutti Capi rose to speak a toast. Brandishing a glass full of wine which was as red as Chuck's blood, the Godfather proclaimed the most important goal of all the syndicates under his command, 'Bring me Carlo Irvino Bartowski, and I will make him an offer he can't refuse!'
It made him more than merely nervous, and Sarah sensed she needed to do something about it.
The lights dimmed as the violins introduced the next song.
"This will be a very slow one," Sarah said. "We need to keep your nerves from sticking an inch out of your skin. Do as I tell you."
"Is this a-"
"Don't think about the dance," Sarah explained. "Let me guide you."
She stepped close to him and put her arms around him. "Forget about the steps. Newlyweds wouldn't dance this one. They would amorously smooch over the dancefloor. Put your arms around me and pull me close enough so you can feel every move I make…"
Chuck did as told, and her breath hitched. It affected her, too. It evoked dreams they already had shared. The knowledge of how heavenly it had been didn't make it easier not to linger in memory and anticipation at the same time.
"Yes, exactly like that."
C'mon, Walker, what makes that touch so unique? It's a man discreetly putting his arms around you, letting you feel that he wants you. You have experienced that before. It can be fun if you pick it up and let him know that you want him too. You're not a schoolgirl. Ah, I get it. That man tonight conveys the message that he wants me and that he loves me. That's new. That adds an extra wham, which makes you almost swoon… Well, I should continue giving him directions, should I?
"Now rest your cheek on mine. No flashing, no mission. Calm down, just feel our dance. Close your eyes, relax. All you think is how you trust your dancing partner not to lead you into any trouble. Only follow where I lead you."
They slinked over the dance floor, Sarah continuing to scan the crowd. She did not report but made mental notes. After a minute or two, she brought him out of his reverie.
"Now you," she whispered, put her hands on his nape and the back of his head, put her head on his shoulder, and closed her eyes. She trusted him. Possibly not with her toes during a fast-paced dance, but with her life.
"Just imagine that you are my husband and that for the next few minutes, my safety of not tripping or bumping into anyone is in your arms. I know this is hard because we are just partners in a CIA mission, but you should pretend to be Charles Charmichael. Perhaps you can overcome your aversion and pretend that you love me for a few minutes."
The listeners in their little network broke radio silence after Sarah's tongue-in-cheek speech that did not elude Chuck either. There was a grunt, a snort, a hum, and a cough. Sarah quickly identified the four voices chiming in. It was Casey, Carina, Roan, and Beckman, in the order named. Masterful actress or not, she was hardly able to hold back a giggle. She distinctively felt how Chuck's chest vibrated in the staccato of a stifled hysterical laugh he wasn't allowed to let go anyway.
•••••••••••••••••••
A/N (2) I don't own Chuck. I also don't own the reviews you write, but I am happy about these nonetheless. That said, thank you all for your continued support. It's fantastic. Like I said before, I respond (and responded so far) to all reviews (I can't respond to anonymous guest reviews, logically, though).