Disclaimer: I do not own Chuck, maybe the OC characters, but not Chuck. If I did, Chuck would be airing in a month, not in March. It isn't though, so I don't own Chuck.
A/N: This is for you CHARAH shippers out there. Sort of fluffy, while moving the plot along. The first scene is quite…mature, so if you're under age, don't read. Skip to the middle somewhere, and begin there. The beginning is not important… well it is, in a way if you love CHARAH. Anyways, I'm babbling. I present to you Chapter 3. Enjoy!
Chuck vs. the Scarlet Ibis
Chapter 3
The Beach
Their Spot
4:33 AM
February 01, 2008
His story tapers off, ending with a light whisper, so soft that her ears have to strain to hear it. His eyes turn to the lightening horizon, searching for the rising sun, unshed tears shining in his eyes. They sit in silence, a comfortable silence, neither one wanting to break it. His arms find a way around her shoulder and she does not admonish his actions. She can feel his need for human contact, the story he just told taking a lot of his will power to tell. She can tell that the story brings back bad memories, the ones that leave you shivering and sweating at night.
She burrows closer into his embrace, and she feels his arm tighten around her. She is still astounded at the perfect fit, her body adjusting to his lanky frame. She looks up, finding his chocolate brown eyes staring back at her own ocean blue orbs. She leans into the kiss, meeting him halfway. His lips feel good on hers as she feels his probing tongue on her own. She acquiesces to his demand, allowing him entrance. His tongue moves against hers, in a battle where there is no loser. His taste is still the same, cinnamon and chocolate, so delectable, like an ambrosia. They explore each other's mouths with their own, getting use to the contours of the other.
Her hands find their way up to his hair, grabbing purchase, anchoring her to him. She feels his arms splayed at her back, molding her body to his. They break away for a brief second, sucking in enough air for a repeat. The second kiss is shorter, but it still has the same effect on each. They break away from each other, neither allowing it go any farther. The only reason that finds its way to their minds is that they are on a public beach where they can easily be seen. He quickly stands up, pulling her along, and they run to his black motorcycle.
***
Los Angeles, California
Sarah's Hotel
4:55 AM
February 01, 2008
Making it to her hotel in record time, they find themselves in the hall, kissing frantically as they stumble along to her room. He backs her up into the cold, hard wood of the door, his tongue plundering her mouth with its aggressiveness. The door swings open, both occupants falling onto the carpeted floor. Chuck breaks away from her mouth, reaching behind him to close the door.
Turning around again, he finds Sarah already trying to take her shirt off. He smiles at the sight and takes off his own. She is stunned at his toned body, abs showing a flat stomach. A blush rises to her face, turning it a deep shade of red. He picks her off the floor and lays her on the bed, simultaneously leaning into the kiss.
Instead of the aggressiveness that laced the kisses in the hallways, the kisses he gives now are gentle and caring. His lips meander down to her pulse point, nose following the hot trail of kisses. She moans as he makes his way over to her pulse point, hovering there for a few seconds. He makes his way down her neck, over the swells of her breast, across the plateau that is her abdomen and down to her jeans. He looks at her and she nods, giving him permission.
He unbuttons them, and slowly slides them off her as his mouth and tongue follow the waistband of the departing jeans. When he reaches her panties, he simply loops his fingers around those, pulling them down as his mouth and tongue continue to meander their way down her body. As her panties slide off, he exclaims, "You're so beautiful, Sarah."
A blush finds its way to her face. She is surprised to see that those words affect her. She had been called beautiful many times before, but this time, it feels different. Maybe it is because of the person saying it and how he is saying it, with passion and conviction. She gasps as his tongue finds its way inside her folds. She lets out loud moans as his probing tongue skillfully maneuvers its way around her hot spot.
Moaning, she says, "Chuck, I want you, NOW!"
"Condom?"
"Nightstand, second drawer."
He gives here a look of amusement, and she retorts, "Hey, one should always be prepared."
"Right."
He obliges, pulling his pants and boxers off, leaving him naked. Slipping on the condom, he climbs atop her, eyes shining, hints of love scattered around his eyes. He goes down on her, putting his lips on hers as he slides inside her. She gasps at how deep he goes, her insides squirming at the contact. She lets out a loud moan as he thrusts again and again into her awaiting body.
The feeling he gets when he slips inside her is amazing. He can feel her walls convulse with pleasure as he continues his thrusting, her moans and gasps music to his ears.
She teeters on the edge of ecstasy, knowing the next thrust will do her in. As she feels him pull out, she is ready in expectation of the next thrust. The next thrust sends heat running through her body, her back arching in pleasure, simultaneously screaming his name. She had never felt this way before, the love so palpable emanating from his actions.
Seeing her face in the midst of her orgasm, he feels himself losing it. He lets loose, allowing his body to take its course. The pleasure spreads through his body like a wildfire, giving satisfaction to every inch of his body.
He collapses to her side, smile adorning his face. They turn to one another, each trying to catch their breath enough to speak.
"Whoa," Sarah, speaking first, having caught her breath.
"Haven't done that in a while," Chuck chuckles, knowing that both of them have not had any physical release since the beginning of the assignment.
"Yeah."
"Ready for round two?"
Chuckling at the statement she simply states, "Definitely."
They find themselves once again, lips locking together in an embrace, neither letting go. They spend the time exploring each other, discovering the person beneath, souls connecting on a level never seen before. They both discover the love that they hold in their hearts for one another. It seeps out as they continue their physical dance. It wasn't just sex, it was lovemaking.
At the end of their lovemaking, he falls asleep, smile on his face as he takes in the beauty of Sarah Walker. Scarlet Ibis can kill, but Chuck Bartowski can love. He drifts into a deep slumber, having dreams of the wonderful blonde goddess that he loves so much.
She watches him fall asleep with the goofy grin she loves so much. The smile that melts her heart and turns it into mush. She falls asleep with her head on the nook between his neck and his shoulder, right arm slung across his chest. Her head bobs up and down at the slow rhythmic pace of his heaving chest. Her eyes drift shut as her ears register the lulling beats of his heart, sending her into a euphoria of dreams of a brown eyed nerd who saves the world on a daily basis. She falls asleep happy, for the first time since the beginning of the assignment.
***
Los Angeles, California
Sarah's Hotel
11:00 AM
February 01, 2008
She awakens only to find the other side of the bed empty. She opens her eyes and uses her hands to wipe them, trying to find the curly haired nerd turned Agent she loves so much. She spots him in the kitchen in his boxers sans shirt, brewing some coffee, and humming a song to himself. She smiles at the sight of him, the sweet smile she always loves, decorating his face. She sits up, swinging her legs over the bed, and stalks into the bathroom to compose her self.
Chuck watches her sit up and walk into the bathroom, a smile alighting her face. He sits on the couch, waiting for her to come out of the bathroom. He sips his coffee, his thoughts flittering to the memories of last night, the special night they shared flooding his brain. He sighs in content, as he sees Sarah walk in, clad in only boy shorts and one of his T-shirts she snatched from his room.
"Casey called, we have a briefing at 4."
She nods absently at the words, choosing to sit down on his lap, and he slips his arms around her. She leans back into his embrace and she lets out a sound of content, happy to be where she is. They sit like that for another 15 minute, happy to be in the embrace of the other. The silence comfortable, neither wanting to break it. Chuck has a question in his mind, and he decides to voice it.
"About last night…" Chuck begins.
Sarah cuts him off, and addresses the unspoken question, "Chuck, I will refuse to believe last night is a mistake. Just give me time. Emotions aren't my strong point. I've gone a long time without anybody, living in solitude, give me time to adjust to someone who actually gives a damn about me."
Chuck can only nod, giving her a soft kiss on the temple. He relaxes once again, enjoying the contact of their bodies. His stomach lets loose a loud growl, starvation striking him, the last meal he had being frozen yogurt for lunch. She looks over her head and smiles, "You hungry?"
"Only like a caged lion, honey," Chuck deadpans.
"Come on, let's go out."
"Chinese?"
"Definitely."
***
Chinatown, Los Angeles, California
Bamboo Dragon
12:03 PM
February 01, 2008
"Isn't this the place Morgan showed to us that one night?"
"Umm, yeah, we never actually got to eat here, remember?" he answers with a question of his own.
"Yeah, I remember. This is also the place where you flashed on the rogue Chinese agent. Mei Ling, right?"
"Yeah. For an agent, you sure have a bad memory," he teases, while Sarah swats his arm.
He puts his arms around her shoulder, as they move to their table, she says, "Watch it bub, I still know over a hundred ways to kill you."
Raising his hands in surrender, he says, "I have no doubt that you do."
He sits down, and leans over to her, whispering in her ear, "But so do I Sarah, so do I."
She shudders at the voice next to her ear, husky and raw with emotion. She looks at his face, a dazzling smile affixed to his, and a blush rises to her face, and a smile that equals his makes its appearance.
"Well, you'll have to show me some time later," the innuendo is blatant in the way Sarah states it, transforming the sincere smile into a predatory one.
His smile drops, face turning down right predatory, and she finds herself blushing again.
"Well Sarah, the next time we're at your hotel, I'll show you," he says, a sly smile returning to his face.
Forty minutes later, minus thirty-four dollars, plus two full stomachs, they make their way out of the restaurant, hand in hand. They hop into her Porsche, his Yamaha R1 still at her hotel.
"Hey, Sarah, since it looks like we'll be living together in the near future, how about we make a deal?" a sly smile hinting on his face.
She opens her mouth in delight that they will be moving in together in the near future. She always wanted to live with Chuck, and it seems like dream is slowly becoming a reality. Although, her eyes narrow at the implications of a deal, "What kind of deal?"
"You get to ride my motorcycle and I get to drive your Porsche, it's only fair."
She always liked motorcycles, and Chuck's is no exception. She contemplates the notion, his motorcycle for her Porsche.
"Since I'm already driving your Porsche…"
Her head shoots right up and notices that she's in the passenger seat while he is driving her car, weaving in and out of traffic at ninety miles per hour. She stares at him, mouth open in surprise, as she takes in the scene before her. She is in the passenger seat, while he is in the driver's seat, handling her car with ease. She has never let anyone drive her car, and this is new, sitting in the passenger seat while he drove.
He notices her staring at his hand clutching the stick and he appeases her by saying, "Sarah, don't worry. I know how to drive stick shift, I own a couple Mustangs and sports cars, so calm down."
She turns her head at the word, "own," shock in her face at the implications.
"Wait, you own a couple of Mustangs and sports cars?"
"Umm, yeah, they're sitting in garages all over the states. I think I have a yellow Mustang here in L.A."
Her eyes widen as she hears he has a Mustang here in L.A., "Can we, umm, go get your Mustang?" her smile, shy and persuasive.
"Sure, you want to drive it home?"
Her eyes shine as he says home, her mind instantly shifting into overdrive, as flashes of a house, with a white picket fence with children playing on the front lawn it encloses as she watches from the window, the arm of her curly haired, brown eyed husband around her shoulder.
***
Los Angeles, California
Chuck's Car Garage
1:05 PM
February 01, 2008
"Sarah."
Her name breaks her from her thoughts of children, a house, a dog, and a brown eyed nerd, and she turns to look into his deep chocolate eyes.
"What's up?"
"We're here," he simply states, eyes alighting at the excitement he sees in her face.
They step out of the car and walk up to the help desk. She notices the man at the desk staring at her, so she latches onto his arm, showing that she was taken. He takes a side glance at her, and smiles, thinking, 'This is real.'
They walk up to the door and he inserts the key, pulling up the garage door. A black sheet covers the car, and he promptly pulls it off to reveal a shining yellow Mustang. The yellow is dazzling, the one that turn heads as you drive by. It's a real bright yellow, like the sun, not like the neon green yellow you cringe in disgust at. The car is still as he remembers, perfect in all its glory. His minds drift back to what he had to do to get the car.
"What's the story behind this car, Chuck?"
"You sure you want to hear another one of my stories? I just don't want you to fall asleep on me."
She tries to hit his arm, but he dodges quickly and runs behind her, winding his arms around her, grabbing her waist with his hands.
"I just want to know about your past."
"Do I get to know about yours?"
She gives him a look, and he senses the underlying "no" in her eyes.
"If not, why should I share one of my stories?"
"Because you're my boyfriend."
That one word puts a smile on his face. He is happy to be called her very real boyfriend.
"Alright, alright, I'll tell you just because you're my girlfriend. Take a seat in the back, I'll join you in a second."
The word girlfriend puts a smile on her face, she is more than happy to be the girlfriend to a very special man, who became even more special after the revelations of yester night. She reclines in the back seat and he sits down next to her. He holds her hand in his, both reveling in the pleasure of contact with the other.
"Alright, here we go Sarah."
His thoughts drift back to the time he obtained the car, a mission here in the states, to stop a bombing attempt, and to assassinate Colombian terrorist, Andres Mauricio.
***
Los Angeles, California
Museum of Fine Arts
7:00 PM
May 19, 2005
He hasn't had a mission in the states in a while, let alone the very city he came from. He looks up his sister in the phonebook, but decides it will be best if he stays out of her way until he is gone and away from the Agency. Until then, he will continue to play their pawn, working the missions. He opts to stay at a hotel in the city, the Maison23, room 832, deciding that being inside the city will give him much better access.
He approaches the museum, dressed in his tux, drawing the stares of several women, who look much, much older than he is. He hands over his invitation and scans the room and spots his target, Andres Mauricio, talking to the head of the Museum, Michelle Conway. The museum is hosting a party for the donations they had just received. The donations were being used to buy new artifacts to display in the museum. Looking around, he sees many artifacts, some dating back to the ancient Egyptians. He wasn't hear to admire the museum though. Intel provided to him tells him that there is a bomb on the premise and his mission is to stop it, and kill Andres, while extracting any information he can.
He mingles with the other guest, flirting here and there before approaching his target.
Reaching his hand out, he introduces himself, "Charles Carmichael."
"Andres Mauricio," he states, taking Ibis' hand in his.
Little does he know that Ibis already knows that tiny bit of information, he knows a lot of things about the man actually.
"So, what brings you here to the museum, Mr. Mauricio?"
"Andres, Mr. Carmichael, Andres. As to why I'm here, I was invited by an old friend who works here," he answers, waving his hand at Ms. Conway.
"I also donated quite a bit of money to this event."
Without Mauricio knowing, Chuck slips a bug onto his wristwatch, all the while listening for any important information on the bomb.
"Yes, this place is worth every penny donated to this organization. I find it very interesting how such old things exist into the modern day world."
As soon as he says that, he sees two men in suits stalk off down a corridor, which from schematics, tells him that they are moving towards the basement.
He excuses himself, and slips into the crowd, following the men in black. He spots them walk into the basement, descending the stairs quickly. He follows them, keeping his distance, but just enough to overhear what they are saying.
"Is it ready?"
"The countdown is set for 5 minutes when everyone is listening to the speeches."
"Get Mauricio out of here now."
He slides behind an old cabinet, full of mothballs and cobwebs, having to stifle a sneeze, and watches one man leave the room, while the other fiddles with the bomb. He watches the man set the timer, setting it to explode in five minutes. He watches the man's movements, remembering them and stowing them in his brain for later use.
As the man walks by, he places a GPS bug on his back, so he can track the man down after he defuses the bomb. The man leaves, leaving Chuck alone with the bomb counting down from five minutes. It has already run its way down to four minutes thirty seconds.
Quickly moving to the bomb, he unscrews the panel, revealing a jumbling of green, blue, and red wires.
Recalling the brief movements of the man who armed the bomb, he is able to narrow it down to two red wires. He recalls his electrical engineering skills and snips the one closest to the timer. The timer stops, thirty-four seconds left on the clock.
He fishes in his pocket and calls in the cleaners to remove the bomb. He sighs in relief, and fiddles with his phone to reveal the location of the GPS bug he planted on the man earlier.
***
Los Angeles, California
Maison23 Hotel
9:38 PM
May 19, 2005
Tracking the GPS signal down, he finds himself at his own hotel, watching the men get out of the yellow Ford Mustang GT. He admires their taste of cars, but shoves it to the back of his mind, he had important fish to fry. As the men disappear inside the hotel, he walks out of his hiding place and walks into the dim lights of the airy hotel lobby.
He watches the men get into the elevator shaft, pressing the button for the seventh floor. He quickly moves to the stairs, instead of waiting for the elevator, and makes his ascent. He looks out of the stairway door, watching the men enter a room. He quickly moves out of the stairwell, and heads towards the room they currently occupy.
He knocks on the door, a suppressed USP .45 in hand, at the ready. As soon as the door opens, he shoots the first man in the forehead, causing him to fall straight back. He looks into the room and closes the door quickly, spotting the other man reaching for his weapon.
Quick as lightning, he looks down the iron sights and points the weapon at the other man's head. He pulls the trigger, allowing the cold steel projectile to eject from the chamber and strike the man in the middle of his forehead, knocking him backwards off his chair, slumping to the floor. He sees Mauricio try to make a mad dash to the balcony, but to no avail, he earns a gunshot to the foot before he can yell out into the night air.
Quickly, Ibis moves to him, picking him up like a sack of potatoes, and puts him in a chair, binding his legs and arms to the chair. Mauricio watches in awe as he watches the man move around the room, scanning for any information. He looks totally dangerous in his suit, gun in hand, almost James Bond like, except this is real life. Ibis stops at a particular file, documents showing the parts of the bomb, who made it, who the parts came from, and more pertinent information pertaining to the group behind the attempted attack.
A feeling of relief washes over him as he takes in the fact that he does not have to torture the information out of his prisoner, but the feeling is fleeting. He remembers his other mission objective and looks at the gun in hand. He inwardly is disgusted at his next actions, but it is an order he has not follow through on.
He points it towards the head of the already bleeding Mauricio, pulling the trigger. He watches as the man falls backwards, taking his chair along with him, legs held high. The blood trickles down the side of his head, and it stops at the carpet, dyeing it a blinding red. The third eye in his head, black as night, blood oozing out of it, causes him to turn his head away. He reaches into his pocket and signals for the cleaners to take care of his mess in the hotel room.
He exits the hotel room just in time to see two CIA cleaners clad in bell boy uniforms, run by him, and run into the room to take care of the three dead men. He walks out into the cool night air, the air helping him to steel his nerves. He fiddles with the keys in his pocket, turning them and rolling them in his hand, this way and that. He walks up to the yellow Ford Mustang GT, clicking the button. A beep is sounded out, signaling that the doors are unlocked.
He slips into the cool seat of the driver's side. He grips onto the clutch, the leather feeling giving him fond memories of college, driving an old Thunderbird. He places the keys into the ignition, delighted at the sound of the engine revving up. He speeds into the night, tail lights flickering as he slows down to move in front of slower drivers. He swerves in and out of traffic, moving towards his ultimate destination. The feeling of driving the car wipes away the memories of the killing, giving him his release from those frightful thoughts.
He stops in front of the car garage, hitting a button on his keys to open up the garage. He pulls his car into it, lamenting the fact that he won't be able to see it again until he is back in L.A. He hails down a cab to take him down back to his hotel, to his awaiting Suzuki GSX-R1000 motorcycle. He arrives at his hotel, immediately hopping onto his bike. He turns it on, the engine roaring to life. He holds it idle as he takes out his phone.
"Graham, secure."
"Ibis, secure. Mission accomplished. Bomb stopped, Mauricio dead. Returning to the nest."
"Good work, Agent."
He hangs up the phone, slipping it back into his pocket.
He rides into the night, the only thing seen in the distance is the red of his tail lights.
***
Los Angeles, California
Chuck's Car Garage
2:00 PM
February 01, 2008
She stares at amazement at what he went through to get this car.
"So, if I heard you correctly, you defused a bomb, killed 3 terrorist, before obtaining this machine?"
"Yup."
"You idiot!"
"What, you were delighted with the car before. What's wrong now?"
"You could have died, I wouldn't have….I wouldn't have met you. Now that I've found you, I don't know what I would do if I lost you."
"Oh my dear Sarah, you don't have to worry about me. I know what I'm doing. As long as I have you at my side, I'll be alright. We'll face heaven itself if it comes to it. Believe me Sarah, I love you, and will always try my best to make it back to you. I promise with my heart."
The words reassure her and she snuggles closer into his embrace. She feeds on his warmth and she begins to doze off, only awakened by Chuck, who softly whispers, "Sarah, time to get back. I feel like showing you some of my moves now."
The smile he has on perks her right up and she slips into the front seat of the car while saying, "Race you back to the hotel room?"
"Sure thing, babe," he says hopping out of the car as the yellow Mustang flies by him. He runs to her Porsche, engine roaring to life, and he accelerates to catch up with the Porsche. Unfortunately, she had too much of a head start, and he found himself self there long after she had come in.
***
Los Angeles, California
Sarah's Hotel
2:13 PM
February 01, 2008
"I win!" she giggles in delight, he smiles at the beautiful chiming of her voice.
"Well, you had a head start, so not fair," he retorts, face turning into a mock pout.
"Then why'd you accept the challenge huh? Answer that Mister."
He raises his hand in surrender and slides an arm across her back. He simply whispers in her ear, "Because I love you too much to not deny you anything."
Her eyes shine at the implement as they shuffle into the hotel lobby. The people in the lobby turn their heads to watch the happy couple stumble their way to the elevator, holding on to each other like the end of the world is coming. A light buzz surrounds the room as the onlookers begin their conversations again.
They walk inside the elevator, hitting the button for the eighth floor. Chuck leans back against the cool metal of the elevator car, only to be surprised as Sarah pounces, her mouth on his. Her probing tongue finds itself licking his own lips, and he opens his mouth, giving her access to duel with his own. The kiss is not rushed like the one on the docks that arose from their imminent death, or the one filled with sadness at the beach. This kiss is a kiss between lovers, unspoken words transferring from the lips of one to the other. Unspoken promises of love and care exchanged between the two.
The ding of the elevator car does not stop the kissing, but the staring does. They break away for air, simultaneously smiling sheepishly and apologizing to the people entering the elevator. Her face is flushed, while his eyes dance with amusement at her embarrassment.
She softly whispers into his ear, "Get that smile off your face, or you're cut off."
The smile instantly fades away, and she laughs at him.
"I was joking babe, I love you too much to cut you off, besides, your bedroom manners are GREAT!"
"Oh thank God, I thought I was going to have to use the Bartowski Eyebrow Dance and air guns!"
She laughs at him, and punches him in the arm. He smiles and the elevator door opens, the dinging breaking them from their staring match. He walks out of the elevator shaft, pulling Sarah with him and pushes her into the wall, taking her lips in his. This time, his tongue slips out to seek entrance to her mouth. She acquiesces, and their tongues dance a dance only known between them. They move vicariously along the walls, gripping the tables in the hall, leaning into walls as they make their way to her room. This time around, it is him pressed against the wooden door, her mouth on his as she fumbles with her keys to open the door.
Once again, they fall inside the room, only this time, Chuck lands first, pulling Sarah along with him, lips still in full contact as Sarah reaches behind her to close the door. They continue to kiss, but each sense another being in the room. They break away, breathing hard, each scanning the room for any signs of danger. They find a man, sitting on the couch, mouth open, eyes widening at the scene before him. His icy blue eyes dilate in shock of the things he just saw.
"Oh my god, Bryce."
A/N: Sorry to leave you guys like that. This was slightly rushed as I have so much school work swamping me at the moment. Balancing AP World History, AP Biology and Honors Pre-Calc kind of sucks. Correction, it does suck. So anyways, hope you enjoyed Chapter 3. R&R and look for another installment Saturday/Sunday...ish.