A/N: I really appreciate all of the great feedback people have given on this story. I promise I'll do my best to reply when I can. Hopefully a new chapter will make up for it. Without further ado, welcome to Waitress- Chapter 2.
Disclaimer: Don't own Chuck or any waitress.
Chapter 2
She hesitantly knocked on the door, a little nervous about how this lunch date would turn out ...no. No date. Lunch. Just lunch, for God sake. Mrs. Fitzgerald had been a family friend and her fourth grade teacher. Sarah has known her most of her life, so why was she so nervous. It was 'him' of course. Chuck? She didn't know why this unnerved her so much. Perhaps it was the prospect of having to apologize, to admit that she had jumped to conclusions that didn't sit well with her. She hated to be wrong and hated to openly admit it even more. Still, in retrospect, she had jumped his shit without even giving him the chance to respond in his own defense before dismissing him. And a paying customer no less. God that sounds terribly shallow.
"Sarah! Come in. Come in," Mrs. Fitzgerald beamed as she ushered her into the house. "Come have a seat in the living room. I made some fresh sweet tea and was about to have a glass," she confessed as she started to pour a glass full from the pitcher on the coffee table.
"How can I say no to sweet tea? Thank you." Sarah smiled as she accepted the glass and sat in a chair adjacent to Mrs. Fitzgerald.
"So. How's Molly doin'?"
"Oh, she's great. Growing like a weed. Sharp as a tac."
"She'll be quite the handful in a few years. If I recall, you were rather 'spirited' at that age," the older woman chuckled. Sarah chuckled in kind and took another sip of tea. They were interrupted by a knock at the door. "Opp. Excuse me. I'll be right back." she excused herself and answered the door. Sarah could not see the door from where she sat but once the door was opened she could her the voice clear as day.
"Afternoon Mrs. Fitzgerald. Got your message. Said you needed some help in the kitchen?" the warm, baritone voice inquired.
"Yes. Yes. I tell ya, I was really in the mood for one of those Cubano sandwiches you showed me, but damn my arthritis is acting up. I'm havin' a hard time slicing the bread and I'm sure I couldn't press the sandwiches like you do," the graying woman spoke as she massaged her hands.
"Oh. Um...sure, I can make you one. No problem. Do you need me to go to the store for you? Or do you have the stuff we need already?" the man asked.
"I've got everything in the kitchen. I even made the black bean soup from the recipe you gave me and thawed the pork. I just need your capable hands," she chuckled. He followed suit with a chuckle of his own.
"I thought I smelled something," he added. She invited him into the foyer and closed the door. She wrapped her arm through his and lead him through the house.
"Oh, I almost forgot. Would it be a problem to maybe make a couple of extra sandwiches? I have a guest for lunch today and I was hoping you might join us as well," the older woman said with a smirk. When they got to the doorway to the living room he and Sarah locked eyes and he froze like a deer in headlights, the color drained from his face. His mouth slightly agape, he tried to speak but words seemed to elude him.
"Uh...um..uh… ye-ah uh, s-sure?" he stammered out. Sarah was feeling a bit embarrassed at his reaction and the situation so looked down into her glass of tea to avoid his gaze.
"Oh, I'm sorry. Let me introduce you. Chuck Bartowski, this is Sarah Walker, an old family friend. Sarah Walker, Chuck Bartowski. He's my tenant and part time chef apparently," she smiled. Chuck just stood there frozen for a moment until a hard shove to his lower back sent him stumbling toward Sarah. He managed to keep himself upright as he approached her.
"Uh..we've uh...we've met… briefly," Chuck managed to get out as he slowly offered his hand to Sarah. She examined his hand and reached in kind to shake his hand. When their hands met, it could only be described as jolting. It was simultaneously the most unique sensation she had felt, yet so familiar. Like putting on your favorite sweat shirt and relishing in the comfort of it all. Her cheeks began to color and she forced herself to pull away. She now found herself stammering.
"It's uh...it's nice to put a name with the face. Pleased to meet you," she averted her gaze back down to her drink.
"I um...I should uh...I should get to the kitchen and start lunch," he pointed with his thumb over his shoulder as he started to back away.
"As you know, Sarah is in the restaurant business. Perhaps she could lend you a hand?" the older woman suggested with a twinkle in her eye.
Chuck's eyes widened slightly, "But sh-she's your guest ma'am. I wouldn't want to impose upon her. Besides, I'm sure the last thing she wants to do on her day off is spend it with me. In the kitchen I mean! With me, in the kitchen…" his eyes closed and he sighed. "What I mean is ... I'm sure she'd rather relax." Chuck rushed out, holding his hands out as if to fend off some sort of assault.
"Um...actually... I haven't had a Cubano since sophomore year in college. I'd like to see how it's made….if-if you don't mind?" she looked up at him through her eyelashes a little hesitant at what he might say.
"Uh...s-sure. Of-of course. You are more than welcome. I mean, it's her home so if she wants you to come watch, who am I to say….I'm just gonna shut up now," he abruptly finished and turned on his heel to head into the kitchen. Sarah and Mrs. Fitzgerald immediately looked at one another and simultaneously lost the battle to hold in their respective giggles.
"Oh. That boy. Bless his heart. He is a genius if I ever met one, but put a pretty girl in front of him…" she just continued to chuckle, blotting away a tear as she sighed. Sarah was a bit embarrassed at the compliment paid her by her friend.
"I'll uh….I'll just go see how he's doing," as she pointed toward the kitchen, sheepishly making her exit. She slowly walked down the hall to the kitchen where she could hear the gentle banging of cabinet doors and the clatter of pans. She stood just outside the doorway and quietly watched on. He was assembling all of the ingredients and pans that would be needed. He opened the bag of bread and began to squeeze and smell it. He pursed his lips and tilted his head side to side but eventually gave a small shrug and nod of approval. Watching him like this shown Chuck in such a different light than what she was used to seeing him. He was standing up straight and had a look of a comfortable confidence on his face. His movements in the kitchen look practiced and purposeful. He seemed at home, at least as much as she as even noticed. Then yet another surprise struck her as she could hear him starting to quietly sing to himself, almost as if he were unconscious of it. She couldn't quite make out the tune but the sound was rich and deep and … mesmerizing. It was so surreal to see this man, this enigmatic man, transform into an entirely different person in front of her eyes. It was actually kind of enthralling. Wait! What? She shook herself from that train of thought and cleared her throat as she walked into the room.
"Oh. Hi. Uh...there...there's a stool on the other side of the counter, if you want to sit," he pointed with a soft smile. He continued his preparations occasionally shifting a glance toward her. She took the seat across the counter and leaned forward, resting on her crossed arms on the counter, watching him at work.
"The first time I ever had a Cubano was on Springbreak in college, during my sophomore year. We spent a few days in Key West and there was this Cuban street vendor that was making Cubanos. The smell was so amazing. I immediately fell in love. I haven't been able to find anywhere that serves them since. Especially around here. So, um...where... uh...where did you learn to make Cubanos?" Sarah asked.
Chuck didn't stop his ministrations, he just shrugged as he brought his gaze up to her momentarily. His expression turned a little more somber. "I dunno… I spent a lot of years by myself. Food was a comfort, a friend. Something that made me feel...not so alone, I guess. I watched Food Network, Youtube videos and read articles. If there was something that I thought sounded good, I researched it. I'd find the commonalities between the recipes, the things that defined the dish and then I'd play with the rest until I made something I liked. Being in the kitchen...it let's me escape, well...everything. You know, baking is great and all, but it's largely formulas, know what I mean? You have to have the right ratios, it's very structured. Cooking...that's um...personal? I dunno. It's like you use your intuition, your gut instincts...you just kinda feel it inside. It's like you share a part of yourself in your cooking."
For some reason Sarah was transfixed, hanging on his every word. To start, it sounded as if he was a rather lonely man and something about that caused a pang in her stomach. Then the way he described food with such passion and reverence. While not much of a cook herself, she could definitely understand where he was coming from. She was broken from her musings as he stopped talking and placed the knife down on the counter and let out a sigh, shaking his head. He didn't look up from the counter when he continued.
"I'm sorry. I'm running off at the head, rambling about stuff I'm sure you know more about that I do. Please feel free to ignore me." After a brief moment he returned to his work.
"No. No. Not at all. What you said...it's uh...very profound. I've always thought of food as very personal. My mom and my grandma loved to cook. They had recipes that had been passed down from generation to generation. The conversations in the kitchen as they cooked, all the smells and tastes. All those things are tied to the love that went into making those dishes. Some of my fondest memories involve food and family," she paused as she swallowed a lump that was forming in her throat. Chuck had stopped his work to watch her in quiet fascination. She lifted her head to look at him, a bit taken aback to see his warm eyes gazing at her with an expression she couldn't quite read. "So… I understand what you mean and I couldn't agree more." Sarah gave him a tight smile and a shrug. A smile grew across his face as he broke his gaze to return to his work.
"I uh...I'll warn you up front, this is not exactly a traditional Cubano, so I hope it doesn't ruin it for you. I don't use the traditional roasted pork . Instead I have a substitute I prefer to use." He pulled a container out of the microwave and removed the loosely fitting lid and offered it to her to examine. The sweet, smoky aroma that wafted from the container almost immediately setting her mouth to water. "Smoked pork butt, using a mix of Hickory and Applewood. Go ahead. Grab a piece with the bark on it," he nodded with a smile. For some reason this simple offering seemed so … so intimate. She tentatively reached in and pinched a piece with some of the dark, smoky bark still attached and held it over her mouth to catch all the strands of pork. The explosion of flavor elicited an involuntary moan to escape as she felt her body melt and her eyes close. Oh God! She can't believe she just did that in front of him. She was too mortified to open her eyes and look at him.
"Right?" he asked. The tone in his voice was not judgemental but rather more in commiseration. She slowly opened her eyes to see that he was not looking at her which made a sense of relief wash over her. "I hope it's alright. I smoked it myself. I'm strictly an amateur, of course, but I hope it will do. Also, there's not a Latino bakery within a few hundred miles of here, so we'll have to settle for french bread. I hope that's OK?" He looked at her questioningly and a bit apprehensive.
"I'm sure it'll be fine. I'm not a militant foodie or anything. So don't worry about offending me. I'm sure it will all be wonderful," she confessed with a wry smile. She just watched on in curiosity at his work. He had two cast iron skillets heating on the stove as he cut the french loaf into sections, then splitting them in half and lastly, thinly sliced the ham. He had an assembly line of ingredients created in no time and began the process of making the sandwich, giving a step-by-step explanation.
"So the mayo goes on one side….annnnnd mustard on the other…... Now, generous portions of the sliced ham. Therrrrre we go. Next the pulled pork...and some more pulled pork….and a little more pulled pork..." The wry grin on his face and his child-like demeanor just made laughter bubble up out of her. He looked at her with his wide toothy grin and a sparkle in his eye. That was the first time she had ever seen it. She had seen him smile at her nearly every day for weeks but this...this was a different smile. No longer guarded or restrained. This smile reached his warm, chocolatey eyes and made them shine. She can't ever remember anyone smiling at her like that before and she found she rather liked it... a lot. Her laughter died as she returned his gaze with a smile of her own. He shook his head after a moment as if to clear his head and then went back to his sandwich making.
"Ok..I suppose that's enough pulled pork. Alright, now the swiss cheese...two...three….four. That should do it. Lastly…" he paused and brandished a dill pickle slice like a rapier, preparing for battle. As the pickle flopped down limply he gave a comical frown, the situation provoking another laugh from Sarah. "Ok...lots of pickles and theeeeen we top it off with the other half of the loaf. Now...the really fun part," he waggled his eyebrows. He placed the sandwich in the middle of one of the cast iron skillets and then took the other hot skillet and placed it on top. "Viola! Improvised panini press," he chuckled. After a couple of minutes he removed the skillet, placing it back on it's burner, to reveal a perfectly toasted and slightly flattened sandwich. He took the sandwich out and placed it on a cutting board to cool for a moment as he assembled the next sandwich, repeating the process for the next two sandwiches. Once the sandwiches had cooled slightly, he sliced them diagonally and placed them on small plates. He ladled out some of Mrs. Fitzgerald's black bean soup and set everything on the dining table.
Sarah retrieved Mrs. Fitzgerald who mysteriously seemed to be entering the kitchen area just as Sarah was coming to her. Sarah gave her a look with a raised eyebrow but Mrs. Fitzgerald just gave a not so innocent looking "What?" shrug. "Oh, Chuck. This looks and smells amazing," the older woman exclaimed as she sat down across from Chuck, forcing Sarah to sit beside him. They all began to eat and as both women bit into their sandwiches they both moaned in contentment.
"Oh my God, Chuck. This is so amazing. I think this is even better than the first one I had. Truthfully. That smoked pork is so flavorful and juicy, Uggh. So good," she applauded before taking another bite. Chuck had a ting of color in his cheeks and ears as the noises from his lunch companions made him feel a bit embarrassed, like he should let them have some alone time.
"Oh, yes. Chuck smoked that pork butt himself. Made some crazy cardboard contraption in the backyard. I'll tell you what though, I'd put that pork against any pit boss, any day of the week," the older woman exclaimed, a defiant look on her face. Sarah was definitely surprised and gave Chuck a questioning look.
Chuck gave his characteristic sheepish shrug, "Yeah. When the spirit moves you for smoked meat... I just used some stuff I found laying around. A hotplate, a rusted cast iron skillet, some dowels and a couple of cardboard boxes. I borrowed the thermometer from the lid of the gas grill to measure the temperature in the box and picked up some bags of Apple and Hickory wood chips. Thirty minutes later, we're smoking a pork butt," he described matter of factly, as if it were no big deal. Sarah just stared at him in bewilderment.
"Wow. You are just full of surprises," Sarah confessed, shaking her head and turning her attention back to her meal. As lunch progressed they all engaged in light conversation. Chuck was mostly silent, preferring to listen and absorb as the two women talked and reminisced of the years gone by.
"Chuck. You've been awfully quiet over there. We must be boring you with all these old stories," Mrs. Fitzgerald broke in, pulling Chuck back from his thoughts.
"Oh, No. No, ma'am. It's actually nice to hear. I...I don't really have many stories like that to think back on, so it's nice to live vicariously through others sometimes," he replied with a half-smile, one that definitely didn't reach his eyes. Sarah could see that family was a sore subject for him so thought she would change the subject.
"Here, let me clear your guy's plates. While I'm not much of a cook, clearing a table is definitely in my wheelhouse," she remarked with a wry smile. She took all the dirty dishes to the kitchen, rinsed and put them in the dishwasher. After a few minutes, Chuck followed and cleaned up his mess from making lunch and wiped down the counter.
"That meal was so good but I feel like I could use a walk, otherwise I'll want to take a nap," Sarah chuckled.
"That's a great idea. It's a nice day, you two should take a walk. Show Chuck the neighborhood," Mrs. Fitzgerald interjected as she looked between them. As usual, she had that look like she was not going to take No for an answer. Sarah and Chuck looked at one another and shrugged.
"Fine by me," Chuck replied. "Lead the way." Chuck held out his hand, motioning toward the door. Sarah nodded her head and lead them out of the house and down to the sidewalk. They began the leisurely stroll down the tree lined street, admiring the well manicured older homes. It was so peaceful and picturesque, it was almost like something out of a movie.
"At the risk of ruining this lovely walk, I think I should address the elephant in the room," Chuck finally spoke, breaking the silence. Sarah just looked at the ground as they walked, listening to what he had to say. "I really want to apologize that I gave you the wrong impression. I … I could tell that things weren't going so well around the diner... I just wanted to help somehow, even if only in some small way. I cleary just went about it the wrong way. I'm really sorry." Chuck's words were so full of regret and sincerity. Sarah felt like a complete and utter ass.
"No, Chuck. I...I should be the one to apologize. I immediately jumped to the worst conclusion without even giving you a chance to explain yourself. Anyone else would have just been grateful at receiving such as generous tip. I've just learned throughout my life that very little is given without something expected in return. I was also having a really, really bad day. Not that it excuses things. I was just in a bad mindset and I took all of that out on you. I'm really sorry. I hope you can accept my apology and ...I'd really like for you to come back to the diner. If-if you want that is. Frankly, I'm getting tired of people asking me what happened to you. You've become such a fixture that the regulars think you died or something." That got a chuckle from Chuck. "There is one condition though," Sarah continued. Chuck just looked at her with a raised eyebrow quizzically. "No more crazy tips like that, OK? I appreciate you wanting to help. Really I do. But this isn't your problem to fix. I'm sure you have more important things to worry about." Sarah looked up, off in the distance, deep in thought.
"Alright. But can I say one thing?" Chuck asked, looking at her while they walked. She nodded, looking at him briefly then back to the horizon. "Asking for help from people who care is not a sign of weakness. Lots of people work in teams, with partners or with their families. They are all expected to have your back, to help you out when you need it; catch you when you fall. I have watched for weeks now and Sarah... you have a family much larger than you know. The people of this town, the people that come to your diner everyday, they go there because it's ... it's home to them… Just don't be too hasty in refusing when your …'family' offers you help. OK?"
Sarah just stood, staring in shock and disbelief. She couldn't keep her eyes from tearing at the profound admission. She had to bite her bottom lip to keep it from quivering. She swallowed thickly before trying to speak. Even so it came out at barely more than a whisper. " Thank you, Chuck. You... you have no idea how much I needed to hear that. Thank you." Sarah sniffed and brushed away the rogue tears that trailed down her cheeks. He said nothing in reply. He just gave her a warm smile and a nod of confirmation.
They continued their walk and after a few minutes of silence Sarah began to point out houses and landmarks, giving brief histories or recounting funny stories. The mood lightened significantly and they both had smiles on their faces as they meandered through the neighborhood.
"So, clearly you grew up around here if all the stories are any indication," Chuck gave a wry smile. " At lunch you mentioned college. Where did you go? What'd you study?" Chuck asked as they continued to walk, shoulders brushing occasionally due to the narrow sidewalks or impeding bushes.
"Ah. Right… I uh… I went to Harvard. I studied Romance languages and literature. I know, really useful in my current situation, huh? I got a scholarship to go, so I couldn't pass up the opportunity," Sarah gave a shrug and a self-deprecating smile.
"Hey, that's pretty amazing! Harvard is a really prestigious school, and to get a scholarship? And to study all the Romance languages? Wow! I mean I barely have a handle on English. The only other languages I know don't exist outside a computer. That's really impressive, Sarah. Though not terribly surprising," he commended her with a look of awe that she didn't believe she really deserved. She just shrugged, a little embarrassed.
"What uh...what about you? You're clearly not from around here. What's your story Mr. Bartowski?" she asked with a playful grin and raised eyebrow.
"Me? Well… kind of a long story I guess. I'm sure you'd rather not have to listen to all that," his brow furrowed, Chuck looked to his shoes, his hands in his pockets.
"I have the motto 'Don't ask if you don't want to know'. So, consider this me asking," she gave him a pointed look, almost challenging him to argue with her. He just sighed in resignation.
"Alright. You win… Well, you're right. I'm not from around here, obviously. I was born in Connecticut, a suburb of Hartford. Then my family moved for my Dad's work to the Los Angeles area when I was pretty young. Then uh…," he became quiet and just shook his head and sighed.
"Hey, I'm sorry. You don't have to talk about it…," Sarah interjected.
"No. I...I should talk about it with somebody I suppose. At least that's what my sister keeps telling me… So… when I was about nine my mom left with us out a word. That was pretty hard for everyone as you could imagine. After that my dad pretty well 'checked out', if you know what I mean? He was there most of the time but not really 'there'. So my sister and I were left to fend for ourselves mostly. A couple years later, my dad left for an extended trip for work and just... never came back. I was twelve and Ellie, my sister, was sixteen. We tried to just go on the way we were but eventually the schools got suspicious and Child and Family Services got involved. Since we didn't have any living relatives that could be found, we were put into the system. Unfortunately nobody would take us both, so we got separated. We didn't live too far apart, so I could take a bus ride to visit or we'd talk on the phone. We both lucked out really. A lot of kids have it way worse than we did. It wasn't always sunshine and rainbows, but they were good people. Ellie is super smart. She got a scholarship to UCLA for pre-Med and is now finishing up her residency." Sarah could see the sense of pride on his face but there was still some pain there as well.
"Wow. That's great. So...what about you?" Sarah asked a little hesitant.
"My foster family were both professionals. Not wealthy, but comfortable I guess. Cindy is an IT project manager and Mark is an electrical engineer. Not the most affectionate people, but they definitely supported me academically. I at least shared some interests with both of them, that being computers and engineering. I got a scholarship to Stanford and dual majoring in computer and electrical engineering. While in college I started doing some freelance software development. After graduation, that took off and that's what I do now… more or less." Chuck just shrugged with half a smile.
"Wow. Stanford. That's pretty impressive. So, I gotta ask. How the hell did you end up here? How do you come from ...wherever Stanford is in California to Grady, North Carolina? This isn't exactly some hub of technology or bustling metropolis," Sarah asked incredulously.
"Well…" Chuck began, as he rubbed the back of his neck, "I didn't want to stay in Palo Alto, which is where Stanford is by the way," he gave a wry smile but continued,"and there was really nothing keeping me in LA. I mean sure Ellie was there, but she was so consumed with her career and she didn't know if she was going to stay, so I didn't want to put down roots. So one day I just started driving. I visited cities and small towns all across America. I'd stay for a day or two, get a feel of the town but eventually move on. I never really felt at home, like I fit in any of those places…" Chuck trailed off.
"Hmmm. Then you came to Grady" Sarah added, but not really a question.
"Yeah...I came to Grady." Chuck paused and looked at Sarah for a moment and then faced forward again.
"So...so why Grady? Why stay here so long?" Sarah asked purely from curiosity.
Chuck swallowed a lump in his throat and his neck started to take on some color. "Well… the uh...the first place I stopped was this charming little diner on the main drag through town. Maybe you've heard of it? Emma's?" he asked with a grin. Now it was time for Sarah's neck to start to get a little red as she listened intently to his story. "I have never been really great with making friends, even as a kid...well...especially as a kid. Talking to people has always been a problem for me….um...some people more than others," he winced a little as he looked out of the corner of his eye toward here. "So I tend to stay to myself and people tend to ignore me. Like I blend into the background...Well I sat there in the furthest booth, just watching, as I like to do. It was the evening rush and the place was very busy. There was only one waitress in the whole place but she was working that room like a pro. Whenever she was talking with the customers, there was always a smile on her face. People didn't seem to mind if they had to wait a little while for their food, they just laughed and talked among themselves. People called each other by their first names and seemed genuinely interested in how the other was doing… Then out of nowhere this amazing waitress came to my table, brandishing the most honest smile I've ever seen. She talked to me like I was the only person in the place, even with all the chaos around." Sarah stared in rapt silence as Chuck told his story. She saw the grin spread across his face and his ears began to color. "She asked me what I wanted to eat and I was at a complete loss for words. I just blurted out the first thing that came to my mind."
"Two eggs over easy, a buttermilk biscuit and black coffee," the two said simultaneously. They looked at each other and broke into laughter.
"I...I have a confession to make," he stated. Sarah gave him her attention and nodded.
"I hate eggs over easy," he winced. Sarah just stood there her mouth agape, staring at him in disbelief. "The next day I came and you asked me if I wanted my 'usual'... Nobody has ever… nobody ever bothered to remember what my 'usual' might be. Until… until you."
Even though he would not look directly at her, she could see him swallow hard, biting his lower lip. In that moment it all became clear. What he had said about his observations at the diner, about a larger family and people caring; about 'home'. As it all formed in her mind she heard him speak her thoughts.
"For the first time, in a very, very long time...I felt like I was...home." Chuck brought his clenched fist to his mouth and holding his breath, turned to face away from her. She could not help the tears that rolled down her face. On one hand, she felt such an overwhelming sense of humility that her diner, that 'she' had such a profound effect on someone, a perfect stranger. Yet on the other hand, her heart broke to think that such a simple gesture, one that she took for granted every day, could mean that much to him. How lonely he must feel that this simple act of inclusion would elicit such a powerful emotional response. She didn't know what to do, but instinctively she reached out and gently placed her hand on his back. She could feel him shiver at the touch but she didn't pull away. She just rubbed his back gently, not saying a word until they both seemed to regain their composure.
"I'm...I'm sorry about that. I'm sure I look like a complete-"
"No. Don't. Don't you apologize. You have nothing to apologize for, OK? People are entitled to have feelings, so don't hide from them or feel ashamed of them. I...I feel very humble that you'd share something so personal with me. As part of our waitress-customer confidentiality agreement, this all stays between us," a wry smile grew across her face as she shoulder bumped him. That brought a smile to his face that seemed to brighten both of their moods. "Come on. I want you to show me this cardboard smoker contraption you two were boasting about. I think you're just trying to pull one over on me. Don't let the blonde hair fool ya mister, I got you figured out," she pointed with a mock evil eye. That gave him a Chuckle and a nod.
"You caught me. It's all an elaborate ruse to get you to reveal your secret biscuit recipe," Chuck did his best Snidely Whiplash impression. Sarah burst into laughter and started to run from him toward Mrs. Fitzgerald's house.
"I'll never tell!" she exclaimed as she easily dodged his attempts to catch her.
Ooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo
"OK. OK. I give up….. You...you win," Chuck managed to get out between his labored breathing, collapsing to the front porch. Sarah just stood over him, a smirk on her face, her hands on her hips.
"You really are a computer geek. You need to get more exercise," Sarah chided playfully.
"Nerd," Chuck coughed out.
"Um, excuse me? What did you call me?" Sarah's mouth agape. Chuck then started jabbing his finger in his chest.
"Me….Me, nerd. We...we prefer nerd…thank you … very much," The absurdity of his insistance on correcting her when he could hardly catch his breath just made her giggle.
"Fine. Nerd it is then," she conceded with a smile as she sat on the porch swing and began to swing in the afternoon breeze. Chuck eventually regained his breath and pulled himself up to sit on the swing near her, but leaving some space between them.
"Thank you, Sarah. That was… that was really great. The uh ...the best day I've had in a very long time, actually. So, thanks," Chuck offering her a bright smile.
"My pleasure...and in the spirit of full disclosure, my days off usually entail cleaning or laundry or something. So this was infinitely more enjoyable. So.. thank 'you'," she replied, giving a mock bow.
"Anytime. Glad I can serve as a distraction. As much as I have enjoyed this distraction, alas I have some work to do, unfortunately." Chuck stood and turned to her. Thank you for a lovely afternoon. I'll uh...see you tomorrow at the diner, if the offer still stands?" Chuck asked, hope apparent in his expression.
Sarah smiled and nodded, "You're welcome any time as long as you stick to the 20% or less on the tips. Got it?" She pointed at him with a playful tone. Chuck gave a small chuckle and nodded is acceptance as he turned around and started toward his garage apartment.
"As you wish," Chuck replied as he waved without turning around. "As you wish."
A/N2: OK. We made it through that one. No lie, there were some Kleenex harmed in the writing of this chapter. I hope you enjoyed. If so, please drop me a PM, review or some smoke signals or something.
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