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And we reach the fifth chapter of touch. This story's almost over! As a warning to those of delicate sensibilities, this chapter alludes to mature activities that are not explicitly stated, but are pretty much put out there, so continue at your own risk! Only one more chapter left, folks. Enjoy!

Chapter 5

Touch

Satin Sheets and Dangerous Liasons

It's been awhile. Almost three years to the day, but he can safely say that he can't live without her touch, nor can he bear the thought of such a possibility. Sure, he rationalizes, given her occupation, it's always a possibility. After all, he's still the Intersect, the nation's greatest intelligence asset, and she's still his protector, only with more benefits.

In the beginning, they communicate through simple, unobtrusive touches. They start small. She fixes his tie; he zips up the back of her dress. She'll mess up his hair teasingly; he'll lay a hand on the small of her back he guides her through doorways. Over time, those touches get bolder. He'll lazily drag his fingers down the slope of her shoulders as she coyly asks him to tie the halter strings of her dress; she'll allow her fingers to slip, undoing a button (or two) of the button-down shirts he's fond of, leaving his leanly muscled skin to the mercy of her fingertips. They're flirting with disaster, but the invigorating sensation elicited by the simplest of touches is too addicting to ignore, and with a conscious breath, both find themselves yanked over the fine line between their cover and dangerous territory.

Their first time making love without the cloud of their assumed cover hovering over their heads is far from the idealistic, romanticized version most expect. They tumble down onto the satin sheets of her bed, limbs tangled and lips perusing for contact. She lands atop of him, but with a well-timed move, he flips her beneath him, covering her body with his. For once, she yields control to him after a brief struggle, and he resists the urge to grin. This is his territory, and he'll be damned if he's not gonna take advantage of this rare instance of submission. Their coupling is far from a tender joining of two souls amidst the candlelit background of an amorous setting, it's urgent and it's intense. But Chuck wouldn't want it any other way. He is cognizant of the fact that they can't afford the slow, old-fashioned pace their fake relationship permitted. Because he knows that if Beckman or Graham ever caught any indication of exactly how well the Intersect and were abiding by their cover story, Sarah would be reassigned to a location as far from the Intersect as humanly possible. So they forgo romance for urgency.

The slide of her bare skin against his, the pressure of her fingertips as they tighten in his hair with each stroke of his lips against every inch of her skin, the delicious scrape of her fingernails as they rake down his back when he finds a particularly sensitive spot, all invade the sense siphoned from his touch. He loves how she arches beneath his fingertips as they trail down the length of her toned body and over the planes of that abdomen bared to his smoldering gaze. He relishes in the breathy whisper of his name expelled in gasping anticipation from her lips as his tongue traced lazy circles across her torso. He delights in the wave of goose bumps rippling across her skin in the wake of his wandering lips as he ventures to more adventurous territory. He spends most of that first time acquainting himself with her likes and dislikes, cementing them into his conscious mind for future use because – and he refused to think otherwise – this would not be a one-time occurrence, and with the studious nature that had granted him valedictorian status and surely a magna cum laude had he graduated from Stanford, Chuck had come to find out what exactly Sarah's partial to. Like how a slight suckling at her clavicle prompted a keening whimper or how a teasing nip at the juncture of her hip and thigh elicited a rather primal growl. And Chuck finds just how responsive her neck was to his nomadic tongue and curious teeth.

They deftly hop over the numerous obstacles that throw themselves in their path, each vexing in its own respect. But the greatest obstacle comes when their superiors become aware of their illicit liaison as a roomful of CIA and NSA operatives witness Sarah rushing into the dingy, run-down cell where Fulcrum has kept Chuck captive for the last day and a half, flinging herself into his arms, and capturing his lips in a kiss. And perhaps that wasn't the most prudent of decisions because that moment of rational abandonment has made its way back to Graham and Beckham. By this time, their precarious situation has become even more complicated. Due to his success as well as Casey's immense hesitation in killing him, Chuck has become a full-time analyst, harboring both the Alpha and Beta versions of the Intersect in his head as well as a bevy of skills that, if he ever wished to be certified, would put him among the ranks of a fairly capable field agent. So when Graham and Beckman ship Team Bartowski all the way to Washington, the collective outlook is simple: they are fucked.

Director Graham ushered the motley crew of Chuck, Sarah, and Casey into his office where General Beckman already waited, slamming the door shut. Whirling back around, Graham wasted no time rounding on his three operatives, a palpable fire burning in his coal eyes. Both Chuck and Casey were considered extremely tall men at six-three and six-four respectively, but Graham still had another inch and a half on Casey. Even with the slight height difference, the irate director seemed to tower infinitely over the two men. Casey met Director Graham's glower with a glare of his own while Chuck wavered slightly, but managed to meet the glower with a hesitant stare. Sarah, on the other hand, allowed her gaze to dart from one ambiguous point to another, anywhere other than her superior's penetrating gaze hovering on the brink of a massive explosion.

"Agent Walker, you have recklessly compromised your objectivity towards the asset with your actions. You give me one good reason why I shouldn't have you yanked from the assignment and sent to Uzbekistan!" Graham's deep voice, made even deeper with his irate growl, boomed through the room.

"And you, Bartowski," Graham snarled, bearing down on the Intersect, "don't think the thought hasn't crossed my mind about locking you up in an eight-by-ten cell somewhere in the armpits of this country with nothing but silence to keep you company! So someone better give me a damned good reason why I shouldn't follow through with either of these options!"

Chuck audibly gulped, his eyes flitting from Graham to Sarah. The inevitable question lingered on his tongue. What was going to happen to them? They knew the consequences, but had recklessly eschewed the possibility for something a bit more…real. Now, the decision was up to Graham. The fear they had invariably harbored from the beginning of their torrid romance but pushed away had now surfaced to the forefront. The threat of either his relocation or Sarah's reassignment now hung palpable in the tensed atmosphere.

"Agent Walker?" Graham bit out with forced patience.

"Because, sir," Sarah responded. "Chuck keeps me sane."

Their superiors didn't answer for the longest moment, and Sarah surged on. "I was very close to losing it," she confessed. "I've spent most of my adult life doing my duty to this country without a place I could call home, and I understand that is what I agreed to give up for this job, but…" Sarah didn't have to continue. Even Beckman and Graham could understand where she was heading. They had all been there. Sometimes, the job was just too much.

Sarah ducked her head, seemingly gathering herself before she raised it again, her piercing blue eyes conveying the certainty she was now forced to vocalize. "My job has involved taking lives without so much as a second thought. But now…I'm not going to deny it hasn't affected me. There are days where I can't avoid the guilt and the memories and the anxiety knowing that I was responsible for the death of so many people. But being with Chuck has changed all that, and I know that I can do that part of my job without reservations because I can come back to him and just be normal. Otherwise, the weight of all these deaths…" Sarah trailed off, leaving the insinuation unspoken.

"This job has been…is…my life," Sarah confessed. "But I'm afraid that it's taking away part of my humanity. Chuck gives me that tiny semblance of normality I'm looking for in order to keep myself human. I understand my actions are deemed extremely unprofessional, but I refuse to label them as a mistake."

Graham was silent for a moment before turning to Chuck. "Bartowski, do you have anything to add?"

"Me?" Chuck jerked, surprised that the director addressed him. "I…uh, well…" Scratching the back of his head, Chuck collected his thoughts for a moment before simply responding, "I fell in love with Sarah, sir, and I'm not going to apologize for that."

A furrow appeared in Graham's brow, the candor of Chuck's reply ostensibly throwing the man for a moment. Graham seemed to ponder his next words before posing a question to Sarah. "Agent Walker, if I were to reassign you, what would be your course of action?"

Sarah swallowed hard, and the turmoil flashed prevalent in her eyes. She had no doubts of her intentions should such an instance occur, but it was the actual act of vocalizing those intentions that provided a slight stumble. She felt a touch at her side, and turning her head, she met Chuck's earnest brown gaze. His hand slipped into hers, squeezing gently, inexplicably providing the reassurance she needed. Finally, she steeled herself, looking Graham straight in the eye. "I would resign, sir." Sarah paused, inadvertently allowing the words to sink in. Finally, she continued, the emotion ubiquitous in her slightly wavering voice. "For so long, I have placed this job and this country before myself. But I believe my feelings for Chuck have become more important."

Graham contemplated her answer, his eyes flicking to their joined palms before glancing over to Beckman. The general had stayed silent the entire exchange as Chuck and Sarah's actions fell more under the jurisdiction of her colleague than her own. However, both Sarah and Chuck could sense the tiniest bit of sympathy shining through the normally stoic general as she gave a slight nod of concurrence. Taking Beckman's miniscule reaction into account, Graham returned his attention to the pair in question.

"Agent Walker, not only are your actions forbidden by Agency sanction, they are inexcusable and utterly unprofessional and, had they distracted you during any crucial points in a mission, they could have been dangerous to the asset," Graham rebuked, not bothering to even attempt to veil the severity in his tone. Sarah refused to bow her head. She stood by her assertion. What had happened between her and Chuck was prohibited, yes, but she would never deem it a mistake. Not again.

Graham noticed her staunch refusal to yield to his chastisement, and a flash of respect skated across his features before he resumed his distinct scowl. "However, you did not allow your feelings for the asset to deter any of your mission objectives. In fact, it seems as though they facilitated each completion." Graham paused, a pained expression tightening his face as though he truly despised what he was about to say next, and the words filtered out, tinged with potent reluctance. "Therefore, you will stay as a part of this operation but you are relegated to primarily an analyst position. You will provide an outside authority in coordinating the various missions the Intersect identifies and will occasionally," Graham stressed the term, "assist in the completion." Graham rotated to his desk, plucking a file from the surface. "But, Agent Walker, do not think your actions will go unpunished. You will undergo six months of probation, and if I see that you are not performing your duties in a suitable manner, there will be consequences," as Sarah opened her mouth to protest, Graham silenced her with a harsh look. "This is non-negotiable."

He returned his attention to the file in his hand. "I will assign another agent to fill your position. Considering your relationship with the asset, having you as Bartowski's primary handler will provide a bit of a delicate situation."

Sarah didn't respond verbally, only nodded, the exuberance clear in her sapphire eyes even as she kept a stoic mask slightly tinged with regret at her demotion, and she felt a squeeze from the hand clasped in hers.

"As for your cover job," Graham flipped a page in the folder, "I will set up a position for you as a graduate assistant to a trusted CIA operative at UCLA in the criminology department. You will be under the guise of working towards your PhD in criminology. There will be ample assets that will assist you in your analysis work."

"And Chuck?" Sarah ventured.

"Bartowski will stay as he is," Graham assured her. "But we will be making a few changes concerning his current arrangements. First, he will be made a field agent. He's proved himself to be proficient enough, and it will provide us with a more direct link to the Intersect's inner workings." A disparaging look materialized across Graham's face as he sifted through the appropriate paperwork. "That will placate my superiors for now. Secondly, assuming you and Bartowski are choosing to continue your relationship and will be living together," Sarah responded with a slightly incredulous nod, "we will have to move you two to a secure location easy to monitor. Preferably a house in a neighborhood where any advanced security systems will be easy to explain."

At Chuck's scandalized expression, Graham placated him with a wry smile. "Rest assured, Bartowski, you will be allocated ample privacy. The extra security is merely a precaution. Despite your…err in judgment…" A dark look crossed the director's face at the thought, "you two are valuable to the Agency, and we must be able to provide protection if any complications…arise."

Graham looked to Sarah for her approval before he addressed Chuck. "Your software company will continue as planned. As it turns out, it is becoming rather lucrative, and considering the money invested by our government, we cannot pass up this opportunity. However," Graham warned, "you will have to adopt a pseudonym for your work life. We must attempt to keep Agent Chuck Bartowski separate from your daily life."

Chuck nodded his comprehension. "Thank you, sir," Sarah added.

"And Agent Walker?"

Sarah braced herself for the worst. "Yes, sir?"

Graham allowed a sly smirk to skate across his features. "Keep in mind I'm being very generous…" The implication was evident in the statement.

For the first time, Sarah relinquished her tough pretense, nodding meekly. "Yes, sir."

"You two may go," Graham dismissed them before he turned to Casey, a particularly feral glint to his stare. "As for you, Agent Casey, I believe the general would like to have a few words with you…"

In an uncharacteristic move, Casey rotated to the pair, turning pleading eyes in their direction. Knowing they had probably dodged a bazooka and unwilling to test their luck, Chuck only smirked sympathetically, clapping a hand on Casey's beefy shoulder, leaning in to whisper in the agent's ear. "Good luck, buddy."

Casey visibly cringed, shifting stiffly to face the music as his superior bore down on him, the intent palpable in her icy eyes.

Stifling chuckles at Casey's misfortune, Sarah and Chuck slinked out of Graham's office, heading to the exit to wait for Casey after he (hopefully) survived his dressing-down.

Sarah glanced down at their softly swinging hands, snuggling into Chuck's side. Turning to him, she nudged him gently. "So, you've finally gotten the life you've wanted. Burgeoning software mogul by day, CIA field agent by night." Sarah propped her chin on his shoulder, her free hand running up and down his bicep. "How does it feel?"

Chuck laughed, shrugging sheepishly. "Kinda pales in comparison to other…developments."

"Like…" Sarah prompted

"Like being able to do this." An impish grin materialized across his face before Chuck snatched Sarah into his arms, capturing her lips in a torrid kiss that sent her pulse pattering wildly and her head spinning. Releasing her, Chuck laughed, his grin infectious with its exuberance. "And the government can do nothing about it," he taunted with glee. Turning serious, Chuck glanced down at his twisting hands before returning his stare to hers. "Thank you for in there."

Sarah smiled tenderly, the affection conveyed in the barest of gestures. "I meant it."

"I know," Chuck assured her. "But having you actually defend it to Graham of all people… He shrugged, struggling to express the true magnitude of the experience. "Just makes it all the more tangible, I guess. By the way, are you okay with being demoted to an analyst? I know how much you love being in the field."

"I guess, it's a pretty fair tradeoff considering what could have happened," Sarah admitted, albeit a bit reluctantly. "I'll miss it sure, but Graham did say I would occasionally assist in missions, although he particularly stressed occasionally," Sarah grumbled.

Chuck hesitated before plunging ahead. "You think it's worth it?"

Sarah's eyes flew to his before they warmed to the lucid cobalt of a cloudless sky, a rare color in the repertoire of Sarah's moods, and Chuck grinned at the sight. Sarah only leaned in, brushing a kiss across his lips as a response. "Definitely."

They settled on a bench outside of the building, and Sarah cuddled into Chuck's side, her head pillowed on his shoulder. Chuck gave a small groan of contentment as he covered her hand with his, idly playing with the fingers resting on his thigh. It was a moment of complete normality, formulated in broad daylight without the risk of prying eyes, or, in Casey's case, prying ears.

"So, looks like you've got your first alias," Sarah mused. "Have you thought of a name for your software mogul persona or are you sticking to Charles Carmichael?"

Chuck's eyebrows shot skyward at the revelation, and he shook his head. "Actually, Carmichael's lost its appeal. I've got to be him one too many times," he teased as the thousands of missions in which he adopted that guise flickered through his mind. "I'm thinking of something else…"

Sarah matched his expression, both eyebrows lofting in surprise. "Really?"

"Yeah," Chuck nodded, a thoughtful lilt to his features. Slinging an arm around Sarah's shoulders, he ducked his head close to hers. "I'm thinking Montgomery."

Sarah's face softened as the name filtered through the air. "Charles Montgomery…" She tested out the sound, nodding in approval. "I like it."

Chuck grinned, pressing a kiss to her temple. "Me too."

Three years. Three years since the Agency allowed Chuck Bartowski and Sarah Walker to embark on an epic romance that came full circle as the CIA sanctioned their newest assignments. And three years since Chuck Bartowski knew it was official: he was never letting Sarah Walker go. And as Chuck awakens to the feel of Sarah's lips trailing over his bare chest, he knew he was holding himself to that promise. After all, they had been through so much to back out now.

Their lives are filled with constant touches, and she is far from shy about initiating such advances. Hands dragging across the hills of the pectoral muscles, a teasing nip at the pulse point, a simple finger skimming down the curve of a cheekbone, all have become routine for them but have never lost the same delicious shiver at the contact. She feels safe between his arms, now chiseled and corded with the training she insisted he undergo so that – although she would never fully feel secure about his safety if he wasn't in the car – she could breathe a bit easier with the thought that he may not know all agency-supplemented one-hundred and seventy-two ways to injure or kill a person, he does know a good eighty three. Plus, not really surprisingly given his affinity for video games and proficiency to aim, he's not a bad shot…when he's not squeezing his eyes shut.

He's a surprisingly assertive lover, never shy with assuming the role of the aggressor. His touches are commanding, his lips demanding, and his body hard beneath her searching fingertips. She admits it's a thrill to see his normally reticent personality vanish in the throes of passion, hands groping and those deep sepia spheres clouded to a bottomless ebony with the extent of his ardor, but she loves nothing more than when he's playing the gentle romantic, tenderly paying meticulous attention to every nook and crevice of her body. He worships her in those affectionate moments, his touches warm and loving, a mere whisper on her skin, his lips ghosting down the planes of her body, teasing with brushes of his tongue, and his eyes warming to a milky cocoa, shining with an emotion she had attempted to ignore but had drawn her in until she was captive in its embrace.

Chuck's the one who's taught her to simply feel. With the numerous times before, it was just a means to an end, part of her repertoire that had only one objective in mind: the mission. She had gone about the act with the same mindset as her assignments: focused and concentrated, with every action deliberate and aimed towards the objective of completion. But Chuck's the one who's showed her how to just let go and immerse herself in the sensations. So when he proposes, she readily accepts. After all, she's already given all of herself, all of her fractured, flawed self, to this man. May as well make it forever…

They had shared countless touches, but there was only one that stayed cemented in Sarah's mind. It was seemingly trivial, overlooked by most who had witnessed it, the action proceeding it much more symbolic to the ceremony in general, but that one touch never seemed to erase itself from her consciousness.

Chuck had insisted on a traditional wedding saying with the extremely unorthodox nature of their courtship and subsequent relationship, they were warranted at least one instance of normality. She argued normality was vastly overrated, but acquiesced nonetheless. But taking in the ambiance of around her with Ellie, as her matron of honor and her two bridesmaids having just completed their jaunt. Sarah couldn't help but reassess that. As she emerged beneath the archway towards their outdoor chapel with the pastor waiting at the head of the aisle, Sarah's eyes immediately sought out her groom, standing tall beside the pastor and flanked by Morgan, Awesome, and even Casey as his best man and groomsmen. Seeing him standing so poised and assured at the altar in a classic tuxedo with a wing collar, white bow tie, with matching vest, and the jacket cut to frame his lean physique, Sarah couldn't see any fault at all with traditionalism. No fault at all. He looked so timelessly handsome, his normally untamable curls cut shorter and neatly styled into a side part. She would have mistaken him for some haughty dignitary if, the moment he saw her appear beneath the archway leading to the aisle, his face hadn't split into that endearingly goofy grin she had come to love so ardently. As was her Pavlovian response, she grinned back. Yes, she could give traditionalism its due, especially if it culminated in being one Sarah Bartowski, wife to Chuck Bartowski.

The walk to him seemed to last forever, each step taking her closer. She could see his eyes light up, and she knew what he was seeing, having obsessed about her appearance up to seconds before her own jaunt down the aisle. He had insisted on giving her everything her deceptively romantic heart desired. Money, excitingly enough, wasn't even close to an issue. Her dress was an Oscar de la Renta original, strapless gown with delicate pearls decorated bodice that hugged her curves before leading to a flowing skirt of three laced tiers. Her hair was pulled back in a sleek bun that lay at the nape of her neck adorned with a flowing veil that reached just below her shoulders. And as Sarah glanced in the mirror moments before she meandered down the aisle, the juvenile notion skated through her mind that yes, she looked like a princess.

The ceremony flew through in a whirlwind in of rituals and ceremonial speeches, but all of that escaped Sarah's comprehension. All she could see was Chuck, his beaming smile as he took in the sight of her before him, the tears that hovered at the threshold of his eyelids, and the absolute love in the tender way he cradled her hands. This was actually happening. She was actually getting married. And before Sarah can wrap her mind around the magnitude of all that's happening around her, Chuck has recited his vows, and it was Sarah's turn.

She gazed at the man across from her, that adorable, sweet, unashamedly nerdy man and repeated the oath that countless couples had recited before her. Despite the timeless consistency of those vows, they still held the same weight.

"Charles Irvine Bartowski, I take you to be my lawfully wedded husband. Before these witnesses I vow to love you and care for you as long as we both shall live. I take you with all your faults and your strengths as I offer myself to you with my faults and strengths. I will help you when you need help, and I will turn to you when I need help. I choose you as the person with whom I will spend my life." No words have ever meant more to Sarah than those in that moment.

"Charles Irvine Bartowski, do you promise to honor and cherish these vows?"

Chuck looked into Sarah's deep sapphire spheres, her scent filled his nostrils, Ellie's sniffles permeated his hearing from behind Sarah, and her hands felt comfortingly warm in his grasp. There was nothing but the utmost affection in his voice as he responded. "I do."

"Sarah Kathleen Walker, do you promise to honor and cherish these vows?"

Sarah drew in a deep breath. For the barest of moments, unintelligible to an ignorant outsider, Sarah hesitated. Even with his staunch insistence to the contrary, she still harbored the slightest of doubts that Chuck should be marrying her. He deserved so much better than a screwed up CIA agent who constantly veiled the truth behind vague allusions and clever evasions. As she had confessed their first "date," she came with a lot of baggage. Even with all the secrets she had already divulged, there still lay myriads more, buried in the deepest files of the CIA; ones that only the highest of higher ups – and probably the Intersect – were privy to; ones that she was sure would emerge with time. A slight pressure on her fingers drew Sarah from her thoughts, and she glanced up into the deep brown pools of Chuck's eyes. Those spheres shone with the extent of emotions one Chuck Bartowski held for one Sarah Walker. All parts of her, all aliases and covers. Slowly, the lips she had grown accustomed to kissing at any given moment split into a serene smile and formed three very significant words: "I love you."

As irrational as it seemed, every doubt that was swimming within her subconscious mind vanished with the admission of those three words, and Sarah turned resolute eyes to the pastor, answering his previous question. "I do."

As they exchange their rings, Sarah couldn't help the little thrill that as she took the platinum band, smooth beneath her fingertips despite the textured grooves resting in the two indentations of the ring, and slid it onto its appropriate spot. For a moment, she gazed down at his hands, marveling at the look of the ring encircling his finger, the sight of the band resting just above the knuckle bringing an inexplicable happiness to her heart, and as Chuck placed her own wedding band on its rightful position, the diamonds shining in the radiant Los Angeles sun, one single rumination invaded her mind. Finally

The minister smiled, extended his arms wide as though embracing Chuck, Sarah, and their many guests. "With the power vested in me by the state of California, I now pronounce you man and wife." He turned eyes to Chuck. "You may kiss the bride."

Sarah met his radiant grin, craning her head upward in anticipation for his kiss when a different kind of touch halted her for a second. Chuck's large palm had drifted up, tenderly cupping her cheek. The platinum of his wedding band felt cool on her skin, a feeling that was erased as his thumb brushed over her cheekbone, instantly sending a warmth skating along every functioning vein of her body. They had exchanged hundreds of kisses, each of them different from one another, but this kiss somehow felt different. In terms of raw passion, it was rather tame. They had shared much more heated kisses – most of the time that led to much more than just kissing – but what made this kiss special was its underlying meaning. It was a kiss of promise. Promise to the future. Promise to love and affection. Promise to fulfill those vows. And, as Sarah had come to find out, Charles Irvine Bartowski always kept his promises.

Sarah jerks from her moment of reminiscing at a slight touch to her hand. She glances up, and Chuck's big brown eyes fill her vision. She shakes her head slightly, registering their surroundings. She and Chuck are cuddling on the couch, watching a movie like any normal couple. She glances down at their hands, his large palm engulfing hers, the platinum band shining in the light, and she rotates her hand over, slipping her fingers though his. This isn't a dream. It's reality, and it's as close to a normal life as Agents Chuck and Sarah Bartowski were going to get.

Chuck's gaze is concerned as he brushes away a stray hair that's meandered onto her cheek. "Are you okay? You were off to another world there for a sec."

She doesn't answer, only leans forward, pressing her lips to his. As she pulls away, Chuck darts right back in, capturing her lips in an even more ardent embrace, and Sarah opens up to him, one hand running though the tendrils tickling the base of his neck, the other tracing the dusting of stubble gracing his jaw line. As they part, he's got that goofy grin on his face, and a stuttering chuckle escapes from his lips.

"I don't know what brought that on, and I don't particularly care," Chuck declares, his eyebrows waggling. "Me likey…"

Sarah rolls her eyes, swatting at him. Chuck jerks away before sneaking in to retaliate. His fingers seek out her particularly ticklish spots with ease, and she's caught in a rare moment of vulnerability. He's too good, his fingers too accurate, and she curses his perception in regards to her. Rising up on her knees, Sarah finally grabs a hold of his wrists in an attempt to halt his merciless tirade. Chuck shifts backwards in an attempt to free himself, alternating ridiculous war cries with his deep, throaty laughter. Neither notice how close he is to the edge of the cushion, and with a yelp, they roll off the couch, tumbling down onto the living room rug in a heap. Sarah lands on top, her knees pressed into the carpet on either side of Chuck's torso. Hefting herself to an upright position, Sarah gazes down at her husband, lying spread-eagle beneath her. "You okay?"

"Oh, yeah," Chuck answers in a wheeze. "I'm good." Craning his neck forward, he takes in their position with a lecherous grin. "I'm real good."

Sarah wrinkles her nose, but stays astride his abdomen. "You perv," she accuses lightly, and Chuck shrugs unapologetically. Leaning in, she plays with the hem of his t-shirt, ridden up to expose his muscled stomach. "You know, Agent Bartowski, I think you're losing your touch. Normally it takes me a bit longer to be able to pin you…"

Chuck's head pops up from where he allowed it to plop down onto the rug, and his eyes narrow. "Is that a challenge, Agent Walker?"

"Whattya say, Chuck?" Sarah dares him with a slight upward quirk of her eyebrow. "You yield in a minute?"

"I'd say that's a knock to my prowess, Walker," Chuck growls.

"So you wanna prove me wrong?" With a deceivingly demure grin, she clambers off his stomach and backs away, darting towards the stairs leading to the second floor.

Chuck gives Sarah about a two second head-start before pursuing his rapidly departing wife. His long strides easily catch her at the base of the stairs, and she squeals as she's met with the touch of his hand to her backside, urging her forward. She grabs his arm, wrenching it behind his back. He spins away, grasping the wrist that held his captive and yanks it upward into a chicken wing arm bar. They engage in a dance of grapples and holds, making their way to the bedroom where Sarah sends Chuck toppling to the mattress with a well-executed sweep, pinning him with a triumphant grin and challenging eyebrow. He grumbles that she's got a few years on him training-wise.

And as Sarah gazes down into his milk chocolate eyes, demanding he yield and leaning in to capture his lips in hers as he readily acquiesces, an indolent thought skates through her mind. Sure, life wasn't quite what most considered normal. Most couples don't spend their weekends thwarting international disasters or their honeymoon as closely monitored as possible by CIA and NSA operatives, but who was she to complain? She and the man beneath her she proudly calls her husband had dodged every single bullet shot their way both literally and figuratively. And as the skilled and practiced touch of Chuck's hands begin their ascent up her body, taking her shirt with them, Sarah allows herself one last coherent thought before succumbing to the sensations. Alright, they weren't close normal, but they were happy. Besides, normal was so overrated…

And cut! Whew! This was a monstrous one, but, in my defense, this was a pretty momentous chapter. I hope you all enjoyed this endeavor, and we have one more chapter before this tale is deemed complete! The next and final chapter is the ever finicky ESP…Stay tuned!

Roxy