Disclaimer: I own nothing.

Once again, I am astounded at how much people like this story. One of my friends, who is as fixated with fan fiction as I am, is a lurker down at Television Without Pity and practically dragged me to a computer to check out the comments posted there. So, thank you to those readers down at TWOP! This chapter is by far the hardest to write. Smell is a bit of a pesky sense, but, here is the finished product. It's kinda short, but that's truly a testament to how difficult I found it. Still, I hope you all enjoy!

Chapter 3

Smell

Boston's Flora and Nerd Herd Logos

Chuck Bartowski never thought of himself as an individual with a particularly acute sense of smell. Of course, the most pungent of aromas would pique his synapses, but he never figured himself as one who held the ability to accurately discern and recognize distinct scents. But, as had become habitual with many of his previous routines of daily life, that notion changed the moment one Sarah Walker plopped herself into his life. For some reason, whenever she situated herself within a ten-foot radius of his person, he could pick up on her discrete aroma. She had once joked how insanely perceptive he was when it came to her, and Chuck found he couldn't really deny that fact. It was too true. Every sense in his repertoire held an object reminiscent to the enigmatic beauty from the sight of royal blue to the sound of Arcade Fire, and now a certain scent. At first, he was unsure exactly what he was smelling when she initially walked by, and only after a good hour in the local florist's shop was he able to discern the aroma that wafts through his nostrils. She always smells the same. It's a comforting scent, one that bears a cross between honeysuckle and a magnolia blossom. She doesn't really wear perfume (she explains some of their more treacherous opponents can pick up even the slightest of scents, making perfume an unfortunate hazard), but her shampoo still gives off a distinctly flowery fragrance when she's in close proximity – which, as of recently, has become startlingly often.

He first truly catches her scent the first time she makes an appearance at the Buy More in that ridiculous Wienerlicious uniform complete with pigtails and that absurd hot dog necklace dangling just below her collarbone. She inches closer until her toes brush his, and they're practically sharing breath. That scent surrounds him, encompassing every iota of space in his near vicinity. The sharp intake of breath he was forced to inhale sparks with the same scent, and he almost doesn't hear her entreaty as she inches forward, craning her neck upward. He's forced to stutter out a request for a repeat of her appeal, which she obliges along with an explanation. That scent that lingers in the air only intensifies as he leans down, brushing a quick kiss to her cheek, tantalizing and arousing to his sense of smell, and he knows that any other scent will never be as pleasing to him as that combination

He had once heard that certain animals possess the ability to smell fear, and until the Intersect, he hadn't put too much investment in that notion. But looking into the relentless stare of a treacherous arms dealer who had just thrown a knife dangerously close to the produce section he felt hadn't been sold to its full potential, oh, yeah. He smelled fear. He smelled a whole lotta fear. Alright, so that was his fear. And yes, he was surprised he wasn't smelling something else. But, in his defense, the circumstances were rather harrowing. And he had survived. The more instances he and danger encountered one another, Chuck found that he had quite the proficiency for smelling such fear. Okay, yes, most of the time the fear that piqued his much overlooked sense of smell was his fear, but he was getting better…

Even with the succession of precarious encounters with death and torture beneath his belt, Chuck knew he still wasn't the bravest of individuals. He was well cognizant of the fact that given the opportunity, he would turn tail and bolt with a high-pitched, embarrassingly feminine shriek rather than face down the barrel of the gun – literally and figuratively – but he'd like to think that his rare moments of inexplicable courage came at the most opportune times. One opportune time coming, of course, inadvertently via one Bryce Larkin who lay encased in a chamber Chuck and Sarah misconstrued as a bomb. In those scant seconds counting down to an ambiguous end, Chuck found himself plucking up enough courage to stay with Sarah even as she threatened bodily harm. He chose to stay, and thank the Lord that he did. In her instant of immense frustration, she had squared up to him, that aroma of hers surrounding him even in their moment of ominous apprehension. And as realization of their imminent demise reached both their comprehensions, Sarah had chosen then to plant the best kiss he had ever experienced in their life on his surprised but very willing lips. Even with the unexpected outcome of life, that moment marked a certain catalyst in their unspoken relationship. No matter how both forced themselves to believe otherwise prior to that day, that kiss ignited a fire of passion that had lain dormant – or, in Sarah's case buried very deep beneath the embers – forcing both agent and Intersect to confront the truth: despite what Sarah had divulged before, there was something between them, and after a set of rather damaging obstacles and a few months of dancing around the subject, Chuck and Sarah decide to take the plunge.

Their relationship begins in a tumultuous tempest of vague details, stolen kisses, and hastily divulged feelings, and before Chuck can truly grasp the magnitude of what has transpired between them, they've been dating…or as close to dating as the Intersect would allow…for almost a year and a half, continuing to dodge international criminals and even more suspicious superiors. In stark contrast to the pacing of their fake relationship, however, they skip a few steps with their real one. Considering they've faced arms dealers who've never shown their faces, rogue CIA doctors who planned to deal Chuck to North Korea, their superiors and their vendetta against the human Intersect, a threat of extraction, the resurrection of Sarah's ex, and a misfortunate encounter with Chuck's ex, both figure they're entitled to a bit of a detour from convention. Both rationalize with all those hindrances successfully evaded beneath their belts, a relationship should be no sweat. How hard could it be? But, of course, it's not as easy as their initial perceptions. And, although they are both stubborn to admit it, they've got far more obstacles than the average couple. After all, not many couples can claim a composition of one half CIA agent, one half government secret lockbox…

But they manage to make it work and they do survive. It's a tough survival, but the combination of Sarah and Chuck's collective persistence and their explosive passion facilitates an impressive longevity. They go through a bevy of momentous occasions, but one occasion stays embedded in his mind. The first thing he recalls about that day was a scent. Or, more accurately, a myriad of scents that ingrained themselves in his memory. Pursuit of a subject brought them all the way to the east coast. Boston, to be exact. Following a relatively easy capture, Graham and Beckman allow Chuck, Sarah, and Casey two days to relax before heading back to California. Casey spent most of his time away from the "sickening lovebirds", and Chuck and Sarah stole away to tour the city. The final day brought a surprise for Chuck. It was the day his deepest desire concerning the ambiguity of her past was revealed to him…sort of.

Chuck climbed out of the passenger seat of their rented Suburban as Sarah pulled up on a slight cliff that overlooked a group of houses over a gated neighborhood. Immediately, the sharp scent of the floral adornments and the surrounding forestry assaulted his nostrils. The strength of the aroma combined with the unfamiliarity of the contigious climate prompted a monstrous set of sneezes that shook his entire body. Wiping his nose with a tissue, Chuck gazed out into the scene set in his eyesight through slightly watery eyes.

"Sarah, where are we?"

Sarah didn't answer for a moment, simply staring out into the expanse. Her eyes settled on an attractive, two-story house straight before them. "This…is my home, Chuck."

"Your…?" Chuck's brow furrowed as he registered her words. His head whipping back to her source of focus, Chuck released a slight noise of comprehension, "…oooooh."

Sarah clambered up onto the hood of the Suburban, patting the space beside her. She drew in a deep breath, composing herself as emotions and nostalgic memories that had been buried beneath various aliases and ruses surfaced with the image of her childhood home. "My real name is Kathleen Lisa Montgomery, and I born here," her eyes misted over with nostalgia, and the slight catch in her voice rang barely discernable, "in Boston. And right there in that house."

Chuck joined her atop the hood, leaning back on his elbows, a teasing lilt to his cocoa eyes as he followed her finger to the structure in question. "That explains your affinity for the Red Sox…" he ruminated aloud, one finger braced lightly against his chin. "And here I thought you were just delusional…"

Sarah reached out, shoving him lightly but ignoring his jab at her beloved team. "I've lived here all my life. Born here, raised here, alumnus of Boston University…"

"So how did Kathleen Montgomery, Boston University Terrier become Sarah Walker, CIA agent extreme?"

Sarah audibly sighed. It had been awhile since those particular memories had been dredged up from the deepest recesses of her mind. "My uncle recruited me. He's a former agent."

Chuck bit his lip, hesitating before continuing. "This might be grossly out of line, but…your uncle knows what you'd be getting yourself into. Why would he want to recruit you?"

Sarah shrugged. "My mother had just died, my father wasn't there, and I just didn't know what to do with my life. My uncle had been covertly testing me since high school." Sarah scoffed, a sound that held half derision, half amusement. "Turns out, I was a perfect candidate. The rest is…"

"History?" Chuck supplied. He squinted at the woman beside him, his tone lightly teasing to lighten the tension her anecdote had drifted over them. "Kinda clichéd, don't you think?"

The corners of Sarah's mouth pulled as she fought a smile. "I was going to say a file in the Intersect."

Chuck grinned at her humor, improving every day they've spent together, and wrapped an arm around her shoulders. She leaned back onto his chest, staring at the home she left what seemed like another lifetime ago. He craned his neck downward, kissing the top of her head, and the fruity scent of her shampoo drifts into his nostrils.

"Thank you for showing me this," he murmured, pulling her tighter into his embrace. "This means a lot to me."

Sarah rotated slightly, pressing a kiss to his neck, a mischievous glint in her eyes. "Now you can't bug me about knowing something real. I've told you my real name, where I grew up, and I don't know how, but you've already finagled my birthday out of someone." Tilting her head up, she gazed into Chuck's brown spheres. "By the way, how did you do that?"

Chuck only tapped his temple. "Well, you are a file in the Intersect." He shrugged. "Inadvertent flash that last time you were wearing that Red Sox cap during the playoffs." Sarah's nose wrinkled as she remembered the exact moment he was alluding to. Her lucky playoff cap failed to work its magic and her beloved Red Sox fell to Chuck's Yankees in six games in the American League Championship Series.

Chuck caught her sour look and apologized. "Sorry." The smirk on his face conveyed otherwise, and he continued. "I flashed your recruitment application and training notes. Told me name, birthday, and hometown…"

"So all of this you already knew," Sarah deduced.

"Yeah, but it doesn't change how much it means to me that you've brought me out here." Chuck didn't say much else. As he had so many times before, he let his eyes do the talking. "Thank you."

Sarah, never one to say much at all, only answered, "You're welcome."

Chuck wasn't lying when he said that their jaunt to Sarah's hometown meant a lot to him. Sure, he already knew her particulars, but it was a huge step for her to open up with those distinct pieces of information, unprecedented in its magnitude. That moment solidified the commitment Sarah invested in their relationship, and it was a gesture that spoke the enormity of the conviction she held concerning their future. So, conversely, Chuck decides to make a huge step of his own, and with the help of Ellie, Chuck purchases a symbol of ultimate commitment. Now all he has to do is muster up the courage to take the final step.

The day he actually does so comes at a bit of a spontaneous decision. Chuck stirs awake, and her hair tickles his nostrils from its position buried in the crook of his neck. He runs a reverent hand down the smooth expanse of her back, and even in her slumber, Sarah shivers at his touch. With an adorable snuffling noise, she shifts in his arms, spooning back against him. Chuck smiles at the sight. This is the sight he could wake up to every day if he wants. And yes, he does want. He wants so very much. And right then and there, he makes a decision. Moving ever so carefully as not to disturb her – not unexpected but still remarkably easy considering her profession, acutely honed senses, and understandable circumspection – Chuck extracts a small velvet box from beneath his pillow. Popping the lid with one hand, he examines the contents before nodding in satisfaction. It was just how he wanted it to look. Removing the object from its cushion, he takes one last look. Tongue poking slightly from between his teeth, Chuck places it with meticulous care just above her projected eyesight then settles back and waits for her to awaken.

Sarah Walker is a cautious person by nature. Unfortunately, that natural caution only abetted her remarkable scores on the many tests her uncle covertly posed before her that led to her current profession. And it was that natural caution that had allowed one Sarah Walker to finagle herself out of countless ominous situations. It took quite a person to be able to worm his way close to Sarah Walker. She hardly permitted anyone to break down the guarded walls she had so meticulously constructed to guard her heart. But as she had come to find out, Chuck Bartowski was quite a person.

Out of all his rather appealing qualities, perhaps the most attractive is the comfort Sarah feels every moment in his presence. She remembers that night outside the sushi restaurant the fateful week Ellie experienced an inadvertent brush with Chuck's second of two lives. With his surprisingly strong arms wrapped around her waist, the soft linen of his shirt and the feel of his smooth, slightly stubbled chin beneath her temple, Sarah found her sense of smell pleasantly assaulted with Chuck's scent, and it was a scent that provided a weird comfort. He bears a unique fragrance…nothing really exotic in all actuality, just a mixture of the Irish Spring soap he uses and a subtle Ralph Lauren cologne, but one that strangely sent her pulse racing just a bit faster.

It is in that combination that Sarah experiences the weirdest sensation of comfort the first time she awakens wrapped up in sheets that smelled of him. She returns to the world of wakeful consciousness with her nose in a pillow that filters that scent straight to her leisurely rousing brain. Immediately, she observes his presence slumbering beside her, the angry shine of a bruise, a last remnant of their latest bout with the Intersect, peeking through the gap between the linens pulled up to his eye line and the curls poofing skyward. He insisted that she stay the night rather than drive all the way back to her apartment, and she readily agreed. Stirring slightly, she notices her clothes from the night before folded neatly on top of his dresser, and her focus shifts to her current state of dress. She's clad in one of his shirts, a well-loved black and white baseball tee with the Nerd Herd logo emblazoned across the chest that falls to mid-thigh and a pair of plain black boxers. That smell is also ingrained in the fabric of those garments. Pulling the sheets just a tad bit tighter around her body, Sarah is once again assaulted with the spring scent and the musky cologne, and she notices the fragrance remains in the shirt and shorts. A quick once-over deems this ensemble infinitely more comfortable than her previous sleepwear, and Sarah conveniently forgets to return the shirt as she gathers her things with a quick kiss to his forehead and a note telling him she's left for her shift at Wienerlicious.

Over the next few months, she covertly filches a few of his shirts to sleep in so that comfort she experiences whenever she catches his smell can follow her to the land of unconsciousness. Of course, he eventually notices and accuses her of the transgression, which she responds to with a coy grin and shrug. It's not until he spends a night at her apartment that he realizes exactly where those missing t-shirts have disappeared to. It seems as though someone has swapped her normal sleepwear of boy shorts and tank tops for a small collection of worn out t-shirts displaying logos such as Star Wars, Transformers, and various Nintendo games that used to decorate his closet but now reside in hers, and he says as much. Again, she unapologetically shrugs, stating simply that they smell like him. He only laughs, cocking an eyebrow and stating at least he has something to sleep in when he stayed over. She throws him one of his shirts and warns him that she knows where he lives if he feels the temptation to steal any of his shirts back. He only lofts his hands skyward in a gesture of surrender.

They stay over at her place more than they do the apartment to avoid Casey's pesky bugs, and it becomes their haven of comfort. This is where Chuck and Sarah are not the Intersect and Agent Walker. This is the place where they can divulge information about the past, where they can openly profess affection and emotions, where they can simply exist as Chuck and Sarah, two people hopelessly in love. This place becomes their world, their present and everywhere else simply exists outside of it. And that apartment becomes the convergence into something a bit more significant than just handler and asset.

Sarah's eyes flutter open, and she is greeted with the familiar sight of her apartment. Just like any other day. Nothing out of the ordinary. She cranes her head slightly upward towards the morning sunlight filtering through the slightly cracked blinds, blinking owlishly to clear the fog. Immediately, she registers the freshly laundered smell of the sheets, the warmth of his embrace, and the delicious feel of his bare skin against hers. She buries her nose into the pillow and delights in his scent mixed with hers. It comforts her in an inexplicable manner, and she lets out a contented sigh. As she returns her gaze to its previous level, a glint catches her eye. Well, that's different. Her brow furrowing, she raises her head to better see the source of the sparkle that she thinks she comprehends correctly but doesn't wish to get her hopes too high concerning its identity and its meaning. But as she grasps the innocently gleaming object between her thumb and forefinger, her breath shudders to a halt in her lungs because it's exactly what she thought it was and it means exactly what she thinks it means.

Oh, boy.

One large hand covers hers, plucking the magnificent diamond ring from her fingers, and the hand drifts down, the ring poised on the brink of eclipsing the invisible line that would slip the band on her finger. His scent is now tangibly present rather than lingering. Despite the soaring through her stomach and heart, she tenses as she feels his breath at her ear.

"Marry me."

Her answer isn't vocalized. She just shifts her hand forward, allowing the band of the ring to encircle the tip of her finger. His hand guides the ring the rest of the way until its settles on its appropriate place just above the knuckle. Sarah rotates in his arms, her eyes conveying her joy as she grasps the curly strands of his hair, crushing her lips to his. With each subsequent kiss, they both can hear the unspoken answer.

Yes.

And cut! Whew, halfway done! Once again, thank you very much for the feedback. I really appreciate it all, compliments and criticisms. As with many writers, I just wish to entertain and hone the craft so all feedback helps! I know this chapter jumped the gun a bit in terms of a timeline, but I still hope it maintained the theme of progression I've been aiming for. I admit, this was the hardest chapter to write, and I'm not too sure about the pacing and transitions…but, eh. If I thought any more about this chapter, I had a feeling I wouldn't be satisfied. I hope this is sufficient. Next up is taste, which I had a lot of fun with...

As a side note, I was wondering if anyone knew how old Chuck and Ellie were when their mother left them as it's a fact I need for a future chapter. I've watched all the episodes, and maybe I just missed that tidbit, but I'm still not sure. So if anyone knows (or perhaps the show hasn't stated specifically) that would be great. Until next time!

Roxy