A/N: Continuing thanks to Go-Chuck-Go and BillatWork for their comments and suggestions.
Happy belated Thanksgiving, everyone!
All I've wanted just sped right past me,
But I was rooted fast to the Earth.
Exhausted, Sarah collapses onto Chuck's bed face first.
Chuckling from somewhere off to her right, he teases, "You're a superspy. Aren't you supposed to be all fit and in shape?"
She groans, repositioning the pillow beneath her head. "Yeah, well, we don't generally spend the day after a mission with our super-active friends."
"Oh, come on," he says, his voice a little far away. She opens one eye to find him leaning back in his computer chair, his arms crossed behind his head. He continues casually, "Devon's pretty much the happiest person on earth now. Because he's already got Ellie to be wonderful with, and he's got me to geek out with, but now he's got you to do his crazy, outdoors adventure stuff with."
He trails off, leaving the rest of his thought unsaid. She shifts to face him, and his forlorn expression makes her want to say something about how well she fits into his life, how perfect the four of them are. But something stops her – she tells herself it's Casey's bugs – and instead she laughs quietly and admits, "He wants to go rock climbing tomorrow."
Chuck's peal of laughter resounds throughout the room. "After a full day of mountain biking and white water rafting?" he asks, sounding incredulous. "No wonder Ellie had no problem shoving him off to you."
Smiling, she rolls onto her side to face him, ready to protest. But he's staring at her with an adorable grin on his face, and her arguments suddenly get much weaker. "Ellie got called in to the hospital this morning, and it's not my fault you're not adventurous enough to come with us."
And it's not my fault I want to impress you by fitting in with your family.
"Yeah, well, I'm sorry if spending the day with you and Awesome and watching you be ridiculously athletic together is not exactly my idea of fun," he jokes as he sits down next to her on the bed.
"Heh, you just don't want to be sore. Your video gaming muscles can't handle it." She gives him a little push on the shoulder.
"Maybe," he confesses with a good-natured smile, "but if I had gone and I were sore, do you really think I'd let on?"
She laughs out loud. "Do you really think you'd be able to hide that from me?" She says it in a playful voice, because if he suspected how well she really knows him, how well she can read his moods and feelings, the thought would freak him out.
Catching on to her lighthearted tone, he says, "I happen to be able to put on an excellent show of bravado and masculinity."
She smiles, easing into the banter. "Yeah, because you're such a great actor."
"Hey," he responds with mock hurt, "whose acting skills saved our skins during the mission last night?"
She raises an eyebrow at him, but admits, "Those would be yours."
"Mmm-hmm. That's right."
The smug look on his face right now is enough to make her forget about the pain in her shoulders, the ache in her lower back, the burn in her legs.
"But I wouldn't exactly call a routine reconnaissance mission 'saving our skins.' And besides, I helped. You can't play a married couple by yourself, you know."
"Fine," he shrugs. "Suit yourself. Just semantics, anyway."
She closes her eyes and shifts on top of the covers, murmuring at the soreness in her muscles as she does so. Chuck clears his throat nervously. She opens one eye to peer at him.
"Uh, do you, um, maybe want me to . . .?" He asks nervously.
Smiling, she questions, "What?"
He takes a deep breath, and his voice is calmer and surer when he says, "I can give you a massage. . . . I mean, if you want me to."
Again, she quirks an eyebrow at him, this time amazed at finding out a part of him she never knew existed. But after spending over a year in his company, she should know that he's not as easy to read as he seems to be at first glance.
"Ellie took a massage class during her early med school days. She taught me a bit, convinced that knowledge of this kind would help me exponentially on the relationship front." His gaze drops as he adds in a mumble, "That was when I was with Jill."
Stunned, Sarah simply says, "Will you . . . .?" and glances at her back. Because she doesn't really want to hear about his ex-girlfriend. She can't stand the thought of that woman breaking his heart and sending him into a five-year funk.
"Sure," he nods. "Where's it hurt?"
Rolling onto her stomach, she groans, settles her head on the pillow, and breathes, "Everywhere."
He doesn't respond, and she can imagine his eyes widening as he realizes that she's kind of implicitly given him permission to touch her anywhere he likes. When she peeks at him, he clears his throat again and repositions himself a little bit closer to her.
"Right," he says, his voice a little higher than normal, and sets about stretching his fingers. "I'll just start at the top then," he mumbles, more to himself than to her.
His hands are warm on her back, and when he touches her, she has the irrational urge to pull off her shirt, or better yet, to have him take it off for her, if just to get rid of the barriers between their bodies. He kneads his fingers gently into the muscles around and beneath her neck, and she can't stop the satisfied sigh that escapes from her lips. As she lets her body go loose, she realizes just how tense she is every single day of her life.
The thought saddens her, but it also makes her more determined to have a few hours with him tonight. So she relaxes her body even more, giving into his touch. His delicate fingers skip an inch or so down her back, finding a knot above her right shoulder blade. He massages more leisurely when he realizes this, his hands working at the knot.
He reaches a particularly sensitive spot, setting the nerve endings in her shoulder on fire.
"Oh, my God," she moans, needing to clutch the pillow beneath her head to keep from screaming.
He chuckles softly, and she can practically see the ridiculous grin on his face.
"Why did you not tell me about this talent before?" she exhales.
"Well, Miss Walker," he says smoothly, "I couldn't give away all my secrets all at once. A man likes to be mysterious, you know."
She laughs, but his hands hit a tender spot just as she does so, and the combination makes her go breathless for a second. It's a feeling she's had to get used to during the past year with him. Who would have thought a lanky, curly-haired computer nerd could make a hardened, detached CIA agent breathless time and again?
"Seriously, Chuck," she says, "you could do this for a living." And she doesn't want to think about whether she means massage therapy in general or that he can certainly touch her for the rest of his life.
His only response is to knead her shoulder a little harder, and she gets that feeling again, the one where she wants to take away the obstacles between them. One hand continues to massage the area near her spine while his other slides toward the outside of her ribcage. His fingers get caught on the folds of her t-shirt, but it doesn't interfere with the pleasure of the movement.
She lets out another low groan, letting herself sink further into the heaven that is this moment.
It brings her one step closer to making a saucy comment like, "If this were a real massage, my shirt wouldn't be in the way."
But one remark like that and there's no going back. And she can't have that. She needs the distance that the asset-handler boundary brings. She needs it because it's the only thing keeping her sane, keeping her safe, right now.
This more than anything, more than Casey's bugs, prevents her from speaking up and giving him even an inkling of how she feels.
Even so, she's so drained from the day's activities that there's no way she'll make it all the way back to her hotel room. His fingers plant themselves firmly on her lower back as his thumbs slide lightly over the skin between the dirty hem of her t-shirt and the folded-over waist of her sport shorts. The sensation sends a shiver up her spine, and she involuntarily lets out a shuddery breath. She recalls a time when she could hide the effect he had on her.
"Do you think I can stay here tonight?"
The words escape her mouth before she even thinks to stop them, and she feels as if she's hovering on a precipice while awaiting his answer. His thumbs pause in their exploration of her back, hovering just above her hipbones.
"Uh . . . sure," he answers, but his voice cracks a bit when he says it.
"I'm just so exhausted," she clarifies, hoping he doesn't see the flush that's certainly risen to her cheeks.
He chuckles lightly as his hands resume their torturous exploration of her back. "Good thing we don't have work tomorrow then."
The pronoun makes her heart skip a beat.
We.
Even in a strictly professional sense, it sounds good coming from his lips. But a dull ache worms its way into her heart as she realizes what he means. She doesn't have work because he doesn't have work. And if he has the day off, then she doesn't have to do surveillance on the Buy More.
He meant nothing when he said it, but still . . .
Realizing she hasn't responded, she says, "Yeah, good except for the fact that Awesome wants a rock climbing buddy tomorrow."
"I'm sure we can think of something to get you out of it."
There. There's the 'we' she wants.
Sarah smiles into the pillow, not trusting herself to look at him for fear of giving herself away. She asks instead, "So I can stay?"
"Mm-hmm," he murmurs. "On one condition."
"What's that?" She turns her head to glance at him.
"You have to take a shower." He breaks into a wicked smile. "Because you kind of smell."
She laughs and launches the pillow at him, satisfied when it smacks him square in the face.
Sarah emerges into the hallway, clad in a pair of flannel PJ bottoms of Chuck's and one of his old Stanford t-shirts, her hair still damp from the shower. Halfway to the living room, she hears the familiar voices of Chuck, Devon, and Ellie. She pauses at the edge of the hall and leans her head against the wall to listen, a shy smile creeping onto her face as she does so.
As Chuck is stretched out on the couch with his back towards her, she's safely out of his sight. Devon, shirtless again, lounges upside down in the armchair, his bare feet hanging over the back, while his fiancé bustles around obliviously in the kitchen, cleaning up after dinner.
As unconventional and somewhat ridiculous as these people are, they're her family now. But the truth is she hasn't had a normal life in so long that she doesn't really remember what a conventional family should be like. And looking at the Bartowskis right now, she wouldn't have it any other way.
Soon enough, though, her hiding place is discovered when Ellie comes out of the kitchen.
"Sarah!" she greets happily.
Chuck turns his head to look at her, a grin on his face, and holds his hand out to her.
"Hey, Ellie," she says as she walks shyly into the living room, a slight blush rising to her cheeks.
"Sarah!" Devon greets enthusiastically. "What's up?"
She laughs and slaps him an upside-down high-five before situating herself on the couch between Chuck's knees. He snakes his arms around her, and she relaxes into a comfortable position against him.
"You stole my clothes," he accuses softly, his lips dangerously close to her ear.
"Mm-hmm," she responds with a chuckle.
"So, Chuck," Ellie says, taking a seat in an armchair, "what are you and Sarah up to tonight?"
"Hmm, I don't know," he says. "Devon pretty much wore her out today. I don't think she's up for much of anything." He nudges her gently. "Isn't that right, sweetie?"
Sarah smiles. "Yeah, I'm pretty exhausted." She turns her head to glance at Chuck out of the corner of her eye. "I was just planning on catching up on my reading. This lug's got me reading his top ten favorite science fiction books."
Ellie covers her eyes in mock horror. "Oh, no! Please tell me he didn't get to you."
"Of course I did," Chuck interjects with a laugh. "I got to her with my amazing charm."
"Oh, sweetie, I'm sorry," Ellie says with a smile. "First spending the day with Devon, and then coming home to my supremely nerdy brother."
Feigning indignation, Chuck sticks his tongue out at his older sister while the rest of them share a laugh.
"Life with me isn't so bad, is it, Sarah?" he asks, his face buried in her neck.
Unprepared for the sensations brought on by his closeness, she forces a deep breath in and out of her lungs and hugs him a little tighter as she answers, "You'd be surprised."
His head shoots up. "At how bad it is?"
She laughs. "No, how good."
Satisfied with that answer, Chuck resumes his previous position, his curls tickling her cheek. Sarah's contented gaze meets Ellie's, and the two share a quiet, sisterly moment. It's only in this instant, when she sees the reflection in the brunette's eyes, that Sarah recognizes how deeply she's fallen. Ellie cares so sincerely for her brother, only wanting him to happy, and there's a thread of silent communication that passes between them.
It's approval, Sarah realizes with relief.
Approval, because Ellie would be deliriously happy if Chuck chose to spend the rest of his life with the blond enigma snuggled against him right now.
She doesn't know that Sarah needs him even more than he needs her. She doesn't see that Sarah's torn between her duty to protect Chuck the asset and her desire to love Chuck the man.
"You okay?" Chuck asks quietly, shaking her from her thoughts, and she hopes that maybe one day she won't have to choose between protection and love.
She nods. "Yeah, sorry. I must have spaced for a minute."
Ellie gets up and slaps Devon on the knee.
"Come on, babe," she says. "Let's leave these two alone."
Devon reaches up a hand and responds lazily, "Sure, babe. Help me up?"
She rolls her eyes and helps him to his feet. He grabs her hand as they walk out of the room but stops and spins just before they get into the hallway.
"Sarah," he says emphatically, pointing at her. She swivels her head to get as good a look at him as she can. "Rock climbing tomorrow. You in?"
She takes a deep breath, rolling over the decision in her mind.
"Oh, you know what, Devon?" Chuck interrupts, saving her from answering. He tilts his head to look upside down at Awesome. "Sarah kind of promised me she'd go shopping with me tomorrow."
Devon makes a disappointed face as Ellie's expression turns gleeful.
Chuck continues, "Yeah, I know, buddy, but you know how Ellie doesn't like me to go clothes shopping without a woman there to help me. Apparently I have very nerdy taste in clothes, poor matching ability and all." He ends with an exaggerated shrug, and Sarah has to stifle a chuckle.
"It's no problem. You kids have fun. Rain check, though?"
She nods. "Definitely."
"Great. 'Night, guys."
A chorus of "Good nights" follows before Ellie and Awesome drift off in the direction of their bedroom.
Sarah leans back against Chuck's chest. "Thank you for that," she whispers.
He shrugs. "For what?"
She angles her head, her gaze fixated on the ceiling, and giggles, "For saving me." Realizing what she's said, she adds quickly, "From another one of Awesome's crazy outings."
He doesn't reply right away, and she suspects he's dwelling on the words that had unintentionally slipped out of her mouth.
For saving me.
Isn't she the one who's supposed to be doing the saving?
"You're welcome."
And as he whispers it into her hair, she realizes that she could stay here forever like this, spending each night just relaxing in his arms, no worries, no lies.
"Well," Chuck continues, "do you want to watch a movie or something?"
She mulls it over. "Mmm . . . not tonight. Hand me my book, though?"
She gestures to the table, and he reaches behind him to grab it.
He holds the book out in front of her. "Here you go."
"Thanks." She readjusts her position, leaning her forearms on his legs as she gets more comfortable, and opens The Fellowship of the Ring to where she left off. "You comfy?" she asks.
"Couldn't be better."
Her eyes start to droop, and she feels him gently shake her back to full consciousness.
"Ready to get to bed?" he asks, the implications of his phrasing almost too much for her fuzzy mind.
"Yep," she tells him. "Let's go."
She swivels slightly on the couch, just in time to see a smirk form on his face.
"Are you all right to walk to my room or are you still too sore?"
She quirks an eyebrow at him, not sure why he's asking, and he takes the opportunity to hoist her into his embrace as he rises from the couch. He's surprisingly strong, his arms surprisingly sturdy. When he lifts her up, her first thought is to kick her legs and scream, because she hasn't let – hasn't allowed – a man to handle her like this in her entire life. She doesn't even recall a time when her father lifted her up and spun her around as a little girl. But she stops herself, because she only laughs this hard when she's with him, and that has to be worth something, right?
She kicks her feet a little, feeling as happy as a little kid, and puts her arms around his neck as they jaunt down the hallway. He turns into his bedroom and walks up to the bed.
"You're gonna have to help me with the covers there," he says, his voice somewhat strained as he holds her down just low enough for her to reach the bedspread.
She folds it back, and he places her lightly onto the bed. He brings his arms out from under her and places his hands on the bed to push himself up, but she doesn't take her arms from around his neck, locking him in a position over her.
He smiles. "Sarah?"
Her expression turns sheepish. "Sorry," she whispers as she releases him.
He clears his throat and says, "I'm going to brush my teeth. Be right back."
Once Sarah takes her turn in the bathroom, she snuggles back under the covers. They've done this before, this spending the night for cover routine, but it changes each time. Each time it's less about the cover and more about wanting what they're too afraid to have. Respecting his modesty, she usually keeps a distance between them. But tonight the barriers are far blurrier than they have been in the past. So when she gets settled under the sheets and looks over at him, his expression tells her that he needs her warmth as much as she needs his.
Without a word, she nestles against him, and his arms move instinctively around her. From her position, she can see most of the room – the computer desk, the book collection, the guitar on the chair, the movie and comic book posters hanging on the walls.
"I'm going to miss this," she confesses in a whisper.
Chuck looks questioningly at her.
"When we move, I mean," she explains.
But he still gives her that look that seems to say, "But we'll be together. Isn't that enough?"
She smiles. "I've just gotten used to it."
He brushes a strand of hair behind her ear. "I'd offer to decorate our new bedroom exactly like this one, but I have a feeling you'd lose some cred with Ellie and Morgan."
"'Cred'?" she chuckles.
"Yeah, they think you're a good influence over me."
"Am I?"
"Well, I dunno," he teases. "I think you lost some cred tonight when you told Ellie and Awesome that I'd convinced you to read my favorite books."
She traces her finger down his chest, skillfully avoiding his gaze. "I don't care about cred."
He sighs. "I know." As her gaze meets her, he asks, "But do you really want all my stuff cluttering our room?" He swallows, and even in the dark she can tell he's nervous.
"What is it?" she asks.
"This is just for cover, right? So are we even going to be sleeping in the same bedroom?"
Truthfully, she hadn't thought of that, hadn't thought of his comfort when she had decided to ask him to move in with her. She had only thought of keeping him safe. And if she had thought of sleeping in his arms each night, of waking up with his scent on her pillow each morning, then what of it? She can't have him, so she can at least have that.
"Well, what are you comfortable with, Chuck?"
"I just want you to be comfortable."
She smiles, because it's so typical of him.
Snuggling even tighter against him, she questions, "Do you think I'm comfortable right now?"
He runs one hand up and down her back. "I hope so."
She laughs softly into his chest. "Well, I am."
"So what are we going to do?"
"Why don't we decorate the bedroom together?"
"Okay."
She picks up her head to look at him. "But I want you to keep as much stuff as you want."
He grins. "Because you love it all, right?"
"Yeah," she says, returning his smile, "because I love it all."
And she does love everything, but most of all him.