It's a Wonderful Cover Life
A/N: Eh, you're back! Or am I back? Aah, who cares!
It's awesome to see so many of you still around. As always I'm grateful and humbled by all the reviews, thank you for taking the time to let me know that I'm still on the right track. And speaking of keeping on the track, thank you Nervert for beta'ing this chapter. The awesome quistie64 has also given her input, saving Maggie from years and years of therapy *wink*. You guys rock!
I don't own Chuck or Looney Tunes.
78. A Glorious Morning
It took longer than usual for the fog to lift, but Chuck was okay with that – he was not in a hurry to wake up. His limbs still felt heavy with sleep, dragging him deeper into the mattress, and he was quite comfortable, despite the fact that he was laying on his stomach. It was an unusual position for him, but not as unusual as having a body snuggled against his, one smelling like vanilla, mixed with just a hint of grapefruit. He inhaled deeply to fill his nostrils with the sweet scent and only then did he become aware of the warm breath on his cheek.
Chuck cracked his eyelids open to see Sarah's sleeping face, precariously close to his as they were sharing the pillow. His second instinct was to move away, but that would've been impossible without waking her as she had an arm draped across him and a leg casually flung over the back of his. He tried very hard to ignore her breasts that were pressed flush against his torso and instead concentrated on his arm that was trapped between them. Predictably it had gone numb and he flexed his hand to get some sort of feeling back. His fingers squeezed something soft and warm, and his eyes snapped wide when the action elicited an appreciative little moan from Sarah. Before Chuck could stop himself he explored further, tracing a path down her inner thigh. He recalled an episode of an old law series he used to watch with Ellie, and when he reached the crook of Sarah's knee he drew small circles over her skin with the pads of his fingers and…nothing. He tried again, applying more pressure.
Her leg jerked and she kicked him in the shin.
Chuck bit back a groan, but a small sound escaped anyway and suddenly he was staring into Sarah's eyes – as dark as the ocean on a stormy day. She didn't say anything, but he could feel her chest rise and fall against his side, trying to catch up to the rhythm of his pounding heart. His own breath was nothing more than short, sharp bursts of air. He had a fleeting thought of apologizing for feeling her up – or down, as the case was – but then her hand crept inside his t-shirt and she gently raked her nails across the ticklish spot on the side of his stomach. He jolted, instinctively pushing himself up onto his elbow to get out of her reach. The muscles in his lower body protested at the sudden movement, but the discomfort barely registered when Chuck found himself towering over her, unable to tear his gaze away from her parted lips as she inhaled a long, shuddery breath. The voice in the back of his mind warned him to pull away – he wasn't sure if they were "there" yet, or what the state of his morning breath was – but Sarah's fingertips were tracing feather light caresses up and down his chest and stomach, drowning out all rational thought.
He let go of her leg to tangle his fingers in her silky hair, running a thumb down her sleep flushed cheek, still debating with himself whether or not this was a good idea. He tried to slow down his thoughts, his heart rate, but it was impossible, and two seconds later he was claiming Sarah's mouth in an intimate kiss filled with lips and tongue and a passionate desire that both unnerved and overwhelmed him. She brought her hands up to his face, smoothing her palms over the stubble on his jaw and chin, before her fingers traveled into his hair, combing through his curls. His mouth left hers and she arched her neck, allowing him to trail kisses down the sensitive column of her throat, and when he reached her pulse, throbbing under his assault, he heard her breath catch in a sigh that sounded like his name.
Chuck drew his mouth away from her skin slowly, only to have her guide him back to her lips, open to him, as his hand stroked across her shoulder, down her side, ghosting over her butt before settling on the back of her thigh, angling her hips into his. Clawing at his back she pushed a knee between his thighs, igniting a completely different kind of fire.
He bucked backwards, pushing Sarah away in the same motion. Below him he could feel the edge of the mattress giving way and gravity pulling him towards the floor. One hand tried, and failed, to grab onto the sheets while his other arm flailed in an attempt to keep his balance, or miraculously fly, he wasn't sure which, but the next moment he was hauled forward until he was securely back on the bed.
Chuck blinked twice at the hands gripping his wrist and shirt. Sure, he was tall and lean and not all that muscular, but he had to weigh more than her. It was on the tip of his tongue to ask, but in his mind Ellie gave him a smack upside the head for even thinking it. "Those four a.m. workout sessions are really paying off," he said instead.
Sarah blushed – why, he didn't understand – and untangled her fingers from him. "Are you okay?" she asked.
"I'm fine," he said, his voice a little shaky. He cleared his throat and tried again. "I'm fine. Really, really fine." Sarah didn't seem all that convinced so he gave her the old reliable Bartowski eyebrow dance, but that didn't work either.
The sight of her – now sitting up against the headboard, her hair mussed and her lips red and swollen – made Chuck want to kick himself, injuries notwithstanding. Disappointment trumped the sting of his horseback riding souvenirs, and he fell back onto his pillow with a sigh. In his peripheral he saw her giving him a sympathetic smile.
"Chuck, there's no rush." She raked her hands through her hair, tucking it behind her ears, and then leaned forward to brush her mouth over his in chaste kiss. "And I think living together for five days counts as seven dates," she whispered against his lips and straightened before things could get out of hand again.
Chuck grinned at that, but it faltered when he recalled the rest of their conversation. The shot Devon had given him had really loosened his lips. "Sarah, what I said last night about Maggie, I haven't told anyone, not even Ellie – "
She cut him off. "It's okay, Chuck, you can trust me."
He didn't really have a choice now, but even so, he couldn't bring himself to believe that Sarah would cause his daughter any harm. Nodding slowly, he kept her gaze for a moment as they let the gravity of the situation sink in.
Then Sarah's eyes darted to the alarm clock and she literally leaped out of bed.
"I'm so late."
She disappeared into the bathroom, only to reemerge almost immediately. Rounding the bed, she grabbed her robe from the chair in the corner without slowing down and then headed for the door.
"Casual Monday?" Chuck asked, tossing the covers aside.
"I need to get Maggie bathed and dressed first so Lou can give her breakfast while I get ready," she said, not bothering to stop or look at him.
"Isn't that my job?"
That questioned slowed her and Sarah spun around, one hand on the doorjamb while the other pointed a finger at him. "No, you are staying put. Rest. Read a comic book. I need you to get better and soon." She was gone before he could even blink.
"I thought there was no rush?" he called after her.
Her head popped back into the room and she growled at him – something he found extremely sexy – before he heard her rush down the hall.
79. Tiffany, the Monster Slayer
Proud of herself that she'd figured out the buckles on the first try, Sarah tugged the straps to make sure they were secure.
"Now remember what your daddy said yesterday – don't unlock these."
"I won't," Maggie said and cocked her head. "But what if…what if Randall jumps in the car and want to suck out my screams?"
Sarah immediately made the connection to the movie they'd watched the night Maggie had been high on ice cream.
"Randall won't suck your screams, because – " Sarah trailed off. They'd fallen asleep halfway through the movie, and without knowing how it had ended, she had no idea how to reassure the little girl that no monsters would attack her. She stuck her hand in her purse, not really sure what she was searching for. She located a nail file. Too dangerous, she thought, and continued looking. Then she found a stick of gum. She dismissed that idea, not wanting to spend the evening trying to cut chewed gum out of Maggie's hair. Her fingers brushed against the thumb drive she'd tossed in there this morning and she pulled her hand out of her bag as if being burned. Hiding a grimace, she unclasped her bracelet.
"Give me your arm," she told Maggie. The four-year-old obediently stuck out her right limb. The gold chain wrapped around her tiny wrist twice. "There," Sarah said, fastening the clip. "Now Randall won't come anywhere near you."
Maggie stared at it, her jaw slack. "Is it magic?" she asked, her voice nothing more than an awestruck whisper.
"It's Tiffany's," Sarah replied, "so yes, it's magic."
A quick glance down to her watch confirmed that they were getting later by the minute, but thankfully Maggie was too distracted by the shiny object on her arm to ask who Tiffany was. Deciding to use the distraction to her advantage, Sarah pressed a quick kiss to the little girl's temple, simply because she couldn't resist, before jogging over to the driver's side.
She slid in behind the wheel and grabbed her phone to fire off a text to Carina, letting her know she was running behind schedule and to keep Beckman occupied if Roan dropped her off before she arrived. Sarah had no idea when he'd showed up at the mansion, but Casey had passed on the message that her uncle was treating Diane to breakfast at his hotel. She tried not to think about what exactly that had implied.
Her phone chirped almost immediately, relaying the redhead's unhappiness with the situation. Ignoring the reply, Sarah tossed the phone on the passenger seat and stuck the key in the ignition. The engine roared to life, though not with the same harmonic purr her Porsche's did. The Sienna was a big downgrade, but at least it was only a rental. She would prefer something more luxurious, but hadn't had the time to swing by a showroom the day before. She made a mental note to call Alexei Volkoff, the manager of the local Porsche dealership, and order a Cayenne as soon as she got to the office.
80. Not an A-list Parent
If someone had told Sarah Walker a week ago that she'd be navigating the hospital corridors of West Side Memorial with a pink Barbie backpack slung over one shoulder and a four-year-old pulling her along, she would've paid for them to visit a shrink. To be honest, it did feel surreal, having a tiny hand wrapped securely in hers, and every time the little girl's head spun around to make sure she was still there, and those innocent blue eyes met hers, filled with trust and open adoration, it made Sarah's heart jump. Though she'd spent enough time with Maggie by now to feel more comfortable in the little girl's presence, Sarah couldn't help but be reminded that, unlike all those times, Chuck wasn't a mere few a feet away. She was on her own, solely responsible for keeping his daughter safe and happy.
They turned a corner and a double door came into view, decorated with colorful rainbows, farmyard animals and random letters and numerical digits. Inside she could see kids running around and it was as if the lively scene mocked her. She was being overly dramatic. She was just dropping the girl at daycare, not trekking with her through a minefield. She was practically a chauffeur.
Maggie stopped so abruptly that Sarah nearly tripped over her. The little girl tugged on Sarah's arm, and she stooped down until they were eye-level.
"What's wrong, Boo?"
Maggie chewed on her bottom lip, a nervous habit Sarah recognized. She didn't recall seeing Maggie do it before, and wondered if she'd maybe picked it up from her.
"Can you stay?" Maggie asked, a hint of hopefulness in her tone. "Just for a little bit. I wanna show you my art and you can meet my friends."
Sarah didn't need to check her watch again to know that she was supposed to be at the office quite some time ago.
"Of course I'll stay," she found herself saying. She'd have some explaining to do, mainly to Carina, but seeing the wide grin spread across the little girl's face made it worth it. So what if she missed the first part of their morning negotiations? Beckman had insisted on doing business with someone with family values, so she shouldn't complain if she put her daughter before her job. Chuck's daughter, she mentally corrected as the little girl in question practically dragged her through the door and into a small side office.
"Mr. Shaw needs to write my name down first before I can go play," Maggie said. "Miss Vivian used to just remember, but Mr. Shaw is new." She stopped short of the desk that nearly took up all the space in the room, with Sarah right behind her, and tilted her head back to look at the man slowly rising from his seat. "Good morning, Mr. Shaw."
"Margaret." He didn't make eye-contact with the girl, and Sarah was surprised he'd acknowledged her at all, given that he was engrossed in the clipboard he was holding. "Who's this?" he asked, gesturing with his pencil to Sarah, again not looking up. She raised an annoyed eyebrow.
"She's my – " Maggie trailed off, her brow furrowed.
"Sarah. Chuck couldn't make it in this morning."
If he'd heard, Mr. Shaw didn't give any indication, adding to Sarah's already simmering frustration. The man had no manners and she wondered if that was grounds to report him. He clearly had no business being around little kids.
"Do you have a supervisor I could speak to?" Her tone was terse, but she tried to rein it in for Maggie's sake.
"I'm the Daycare Director," Shaw informed her. "Directors don't have supervisors."
"I didn't know daycare had directors."
"Well, now you do."
At first Sarah thought it he was returning the sarcasm, but it was hard to tell from his expression. As a matter of fact, she couldn't discern anything from his features. He might as well have been a wooden statue. Shaw studied the clipboard in his hand once again and Sarah wondered if it would go any slower if he actually spelled the names out.
"Margaret Lisa Roberts," he murmured, ticking his pencil against the plastic board. "Ah, here it is." He read the name again, as if to make sure he had the right one, and then finally looked up at Sarah. "You are not on the list."
"You have the wrong name," Maggie said. "I'm Margaret Lisa Bartowski."
"That's not what the list says."
"The list must be wrong then," Sarah said, hoping Shaw would understand the underlying tone in her response. She'd realized immediately that legally Maggie must have carried her mother's surname, but she was probably too young to understand why. This was wrong, Sarah thought. Chuck was the one doing all the heavy lifting, and his daughter didn't even share his name.
"I can assure you – " Shaw started, but was cut short.
"Your list is wrong," Sarah said again. "Now if you could please mark her as present – "
"I can't do that. You – " He pointed at Sarah again. "You are not on the list. Only people who are on the list are allowed to drop children off at daycare. For all I know you could be a kidnapper."
Sarah inhaled a deep calming breath. Every time Mr. Daycare Director opened his mouth, the situation got even more ridiculous.
"What kind of kidnapper would I be if I bring her to her own daycare?"
"Don't ask me, it's your stupid plan."
"It's not my – " Aware that Maggie had been watching the exchange intently, Sarah lowered her voice as she tried her best to hang onto her calm center. "I'm not a kidnapper," she said, managing to keep her voice neutral.
Daycare Director Shaw was relentless though. "I have no way to verify that because you're not on the list."
"Well, if that's the case, I'll just take Maggie with me."
"I can't let you do that," Shaw replied.
Sarah squeezed her eyes shut, pinching her nose between her thumb and forefinger to stave off an impending headache. "Don't tell me," she said, "I'm not on the list."
"That would be correct."
Sarah wanted to point out that she understood the merit of verifying who was allowed to fetch children from daycare, but that it didn't matter how they'd gotten there in the first place, but she had a feeling that that would go down like a concrete parachute. Instead, with another deep breath, she met Shaw's gaze dead on.
"If I'm not allowed to leave her here and I'm not allowed to take her with me, then I guess this," she said with a vague hand gesture, "never happened."
With that she lifted Maggie to her hip and was out the door before Shaw could even think to utter the word 'list' again.
81. Midnight Cowboy
Chuck leaned against a pillar on the front porch as he waited for his ride. Going into the Buy More didn't exactly constitute rest, but he'd popped a couple of painkillers so he'd be able to suffer through fixing a few of the computers that had been piling up down in the cage. Tempting as it was to play hooky he still needed to resign, and he'd decided that today was the day. Then he'd rush home to make sure got there before Sarah.
A little red and white Matrix, identical to his own, drove past the property, came to a screeching halt and reversed until it could make the turn through the gate. Halfway down the driveway the car stopped and the driver door opened. Morgan put one foot to the ground and hoisted himself up against the doorframe. Leaning over it, as much as his short stature would let him, his eyes bounced comically between Chuck, making his way down the steps with a slightly wide-legged gait, and the mansion behind him.
Pulling Morgan from his stupor, Chuck asked "I thought you were going to borrow your mother's car?"
"It's in the shop, so Jeff let me borrow his."
Chuck's hand, halfway to the passenger door, froze in midair. "Morgan, are you crazy? We'll catch something."
"Not to worry," Morgan said, emerging fully and jogging to the trunk. He retrieved a large sheet of bubble wrap and handed it to Chuck. "I've got us covered."
Peering through the window to the driver's seat, Chuck saw that Morgan wasn't kidding. It was better than nothing, he supposed. He pulled on the handle with two fingers, swung the door open and dressed his seat before getting in, making sure to not accidently touch any exposed surface. He planted his chucks in the corners of the foot well to avoid sliding around on the makeshift protection, which, strangely enough, reminded him to make a stop at the Large Mart at some point during the day – the lone condom he carried in his wallet had probably expired.
Morgan settled in on his side, causing a couple of bubbles to pop, and Chuck couldn't help but snicker at his best friend. There was never a dull moment when his bearded buddy was around. Chuck waited for him to start the car, but Morgan's eyes were fixed on the house again, and Chuck could practically hear the wheels in his head turn.
"I can explain this," he said.
Morgan shook his head. "No need, Chuck. It all makes sense now. I'm just shocked, that's all."
Without elaborating he turned the key, pushing the gas pedal a little too hard, and then made a somewhat tight turn around the fountain, almost scraping against the concrete edge. Chuck held his tongue, even when the car bounced into the street, and Morgan corrected just short of hitting the pavement. He'd forgotten why the streets on L.A. were a safer place when Morgan was pedaling instead of driving.
To distract himself from the fact that Morgan had stopped well over the line at the first red light they'd encountered, and that cars were crossing alarmingly close to the Nerd Herder's nose, Chuck turned his head and studied his lifelong friend's profile. He considered starting a conversation about sandwiches and warm climates, but his curiosity won out.
"Why are you shocked, Morgan?"
"You have to ask?"
Chuck nodded his head slowly. "Uh…yeah. Is it because I'm dating?"
Was he dating, Chuck wondered. It's not like he'd taken Sarah to a fancy dinner, or a movie, or a simple walk on the beach. But what was dating anyway? Wasn't it spending time together to get to know each other better? Though he'd always thought that if he'd met a girl he really liked, they would take things slow. He'd make very sure that the relationship had a reasonable chance of turning into something more long-term before he'd even consider introducing her to his daughter, but with Sarah everything seemed to happen at once, and that scared him. Things that moved too fast had a tendency to burn out just as quickly, though he was enough of a man to admit that he wasn't too keen on the idea of taking a step or three back because the things she made him feel…
A honk pulled him from his thoughts.
"Keep your shirt on," Morgan mumbled as he eased the car through the intersection, slower than a granny on Prozac. "So as I was saying," he continued, "there's no need for you to sell your body."
Chuck did a double take. "What? Why would you think that?" Sarah paying him to pretend to be her husband had nothing to do with them nearly consummating their fake marriage.
"You haven't listened to a word I've said, have you?" Morgan shot him an accusatory look.
"Sorry." Chuck shrugged a shoulder. "That guy honking at us distracted me."
"Yeah, some people are so rude. Okay, so let's look at the facts again and please pay attention this time. One – " Morgan took his hands of the steering wheel to count down on fingers. Chuck grabbed it to keep the car on the road. "Thanks," Morgan said with a quick downward glance. "Okay, so you're dating a pretty girl and pretty usually means high maintenance, which is code for expensive, and I know money is tight for you with saving up for your new business and raising a kid, but think about your daughter, Chuck. What will you tell her when she wants to know why you're never home anymore and why you're walking funny and why I had to fetch you at an unholy time in the morning from some rich broad's house – "
Chuck cut in. "Morgan, there's a turn coming up."
"Don't change the subject."
"Morgan!" Thanks to their friendship Chuck had perfected his dad voice long before he became a father.
"Keep your shirt on, buddy," Morgan said, taking back control of the wheel. "And I mean that literally too. I would happily give you my Delorean fund if you need it. Just say the word."
"That won't be necessary, but thanks for offering. I'm good." Chuck had hoped that that would've been the end of the discussion, but he should've known better.
"Are you enjoying this gigolo gig?"
"Who wouldn't?" It was a little mean, Chuck thought as he watched his friend's jaw drop almost into his lap. Then, taking advantage of Morgan's speechlessness, he half-turned in his seat, ignoring the farting noises caused by his pants rubbing against the plastic, and jerked a pointed thumb in the direction of the rear window. "That is Sarah's house, and as for me walking funny, I had a small incident, not of a sexual nature."
"Sarah is a rich, old broad?" Disappointment flashed across Morgan's face. "When you said Vicky Vale, I was thinking '89 Bassinger, but you meant '09 Bassinger, didn't you? Isn't she like sixty?"
"Fifty-five."
"Because that makes it better."
Chuck sighed, trying to hold onto his patience. "Sarah's our age, Morgan."
"Hold the phone. Are you telling me that she's young, beautiful and rich? Do you know what this means? You've hit the jackpot, my friend."
Chuck didn't like where Morgan was going with that. "She's also kind and generous, and I don't care that she's rich."
"You should. We work our backsides off for a measly couple of dollars – " Chuck cut him off with a snort. "Okay, fine, we basically sacrifice video-gaming time, but not anymore. Picture it, buddy, if you marry this girl you'll be – "
"If I marry Sarah it will be because I love her."
Chuck heard himself and pursed his lips, but it was too late. Morgan's head snapped around, his eyes bulging out of his head.
"You love her?"
A/N: Th-th-th-th-That's all, Folks!