A/N: Wow! I wasn't expecting to be past 40 reviews this quickly! Thanks for all the reviews, guys. As a reward, here's your new chapter. Completely fluffy as a little birthday treat to myself and it has the Sm93Starbuck/SarahLisaWalkerFan combined stamp of approval. Hope you like it.

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After successfully initiating the bedroom of their temporary accommodation several times over, Chuck had pretty much passed out from exhaustion. Sarah was struggling to get to sleep due to her apprehension about what might happen in the future. She couldn't help wondering if she had made a horrible mistake in revealing Chuck's abilities to another set of government agencies.

It was comforting to know that he would be treated as an agent, and in England's bureaucratic culture it would be almost impossible for him to be taken away from her without someone noticing. His agent's badge would be his shield once he passed the training.

Sarah had no doubts Chuck would pass the training. He had shown remarkable resilience when it came to the physical side of espionage. Saying that, the SAS program was designed to test even the fittest to their limits, and considering Chuck was pretty much average in that respect, Sarah would have to get unorthodox to get him through it.

Unorthodox would take many forms. She would see how he got through the first day, and if he did well, then there would be certain rewards in store for him. Chuck would certainly be the beneficiary of her seduction training, rather than the marks it had been designed for. It might be an idea for her to try and time the rewards so that they didn't happen on a night where heavy PT would be occurring the next day. Things tended to get rather out of hand when their passions were unleashed.

That was the "carrot" approach. She wasn't fond of using the "stick", especially not when it came to Chuck. She would rather see him happy and tired than sad, frustrated, and awake. Sarah had worked with Chuck long enough to know how to push his buttons, and shouting wasn't the answer. Casey had failed to learn that lesson many times over. The only worry for Sarah in terms of that was in her experience, trainers only knew one way to instil discipline in recruits: shouting.

I guess I'll just have to cheer Chuck up a little, thought Sarah, looking down at her comatose future husband, who was sleeping with a slightly smug grin on his face. Nothing short of a direct assault on the house was going to wake him, Sarah had learned from previous similar nights, so she decided to settle back on his chest and try to get some sleep.

She was prepared for some sleepless nights, as she had experienced very often back in L.A., although those sleepless nights had been caused by Sarah trying to get a hold of her emotions. Now, it was Sarah trying to figure out how to save her fiancé from hypothetical internment.

God, why am I worrying so much about this now? Get a grip, Walker! Worry if he fails the training. Just focus on getting him through it.

That little inner pep talk was all Sarah needed to start feeling tired, as if all of the weight of the worry she had been feeling had just fallen off her shoulders and landed amongst the scattered clothes and the suitcase that had been unceremoniously flung from the bed when it got in the way. She settled down and closed her eyes, slipping off to sleep even as the summer morning light first began to creep through the curtains.

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This time, Chuck was the first to awaken from his deep sleep. He noticed it was already late morning, and he panicked, thinking that the SAS training started that day. He calmed down after checking the schedule on his phone calendar and seeing that the training didn't start until the next day, luckily.

It was looking like a good decision for Chuck and Sarah to head straight up to Hereford instead of hanging around a London hotel for a couple of days. Chuck was in no shape to be doing anything but stare at the blonde lying next to him. Unless of course, said blonde happened to wake up and be interested in continuing the activities of the previous night. Chuck was a man, after all; he'd have to be in a coma to not be up for that.

Sarah stirred slowly next to him, and she desperately tried to avoid the all-invading sunlight by almost attacking her pillow with her face to try and recapture the elusive sleep. Chuck laughed softly, which earned him the mother of all evil looks from Sarah.

"What! You think it's funny, don't you?" she shouted.

"It's cute," protested Chuck.

"Cute? Cute?! You patronising bastard!" said Sarah, continuing at her abnormally high volume.

Oh, Jesus. Here we go again. Every damn time!

"No, sweetie, I didn't mean it like that," said Chuck, trying to solve the situation before it got out of hand again, and Sarah ended up in the bathroom again.

"Of course you did! You mean everything you say. Didn't you tell me that once? I distinctly remember you mentioning that!" said Sarah hysterically.

Chuck couldn't see any way out of this situation without tears from Sarah, not that it took much to reduce her to tears nowadays. Then it hit him. The refuge of embattled males with hormonal partners everywhere: a fridge stocked to the hilt with chocolate ice-cream.

"I'll be right back, honey," said Chuck as he tentatively made steps towards the bedroom door.

Don't turn your back on a crazy person, don't turn your back on a crazy person was Chuck's silent mantra as he crossed the room, before he made the fatal error of turning to open the door.

"Hey! Don't you think you can just walk away from this! Look at me, Chuck! And take a good look! Because that's all you're getting from me unless you come back right now!" screamed Sarah.

Chuck desperately tried to ignore the threats of lonely nights; he knew this would all be okay so long as Sarah got some ice-cream. He had had enough experience with dealing with Ellie and Jill to know that was a girl's weakness at times like these. Admittedly, it would take substantially more ice-cream to overcome the extra hormonal craziness, but Chuck had faith in his frozen shield.

He could still hear Sarah's shouts as he made his way down the stairs, still groggy from his exertions in the preceding night. Sarah's hormones were certainly good for one thing, thought Chuck, typically masculine at a time like this, she's always in the mood. No complaints here.

These thoughts enabled Chuck to block out Sarah's threats involving multiple knives impacting with a very sensitive and important part of his anatomy at an extremely high velocity. He made it to the kitchen, and the fridge/freezer seemed to be bathed in an unnatural light. It was as if all of Chuck's prayers were answered in the form of frozen goods.

He almost sprinted the last few feet to the freezer and opened it, praying he had remembered to put the ice-cream in there the night before after his impromptu shopping trip to mitigate the über-PMS Sarah was currently experiencing. His heart sank as he saw the drawer of the freezer was bare save for a loaf of bread he had placed in there as a spare in case supplies ran low before he could get to the shops.

It sank further when he looked at the table and saw the mostly full Tesco bags still sitting there. Oh no, please don't say I forgot to put it away, thought Chuck in despair. His fears were realised though, as he noticed the liquid seeping onto the table from through the thin plastic lining of the bag, due to his rather bad idea of putting the ice-cream upside down to loosen it in the tub, which meant the melted ice-cream was running out of the tub faster than a French soldier could surrender.

That left only one option. Well, two, but the second one involved facing Crazy Sarah without sugar based armour. Chuck would prefer to avoid that if at all possible. The first, and much preferred, option meant that Chuck would have to find a way to replace the sadly now deceased ice-cream without Sarah noticing. A difficult task, to be sure, but with a much higher likelihood of survival than facing Sarah in her current mood.

Chuck could still hear Sarah shouting at him from upstairs, and he knew he had to fix it somehow, and soon. So he grabbed the phone and started making calls to various personnel he had befriended on his tour through the base.

"Hey, Corporal Smith?... I need some help... You know where my house is?...Good, could you come over as soon as you can, please?"

"Sergeant Johnson?...Good thing you're home. Listen, my fiancé is having some serious anger problems this morning...yeah, it's exactly what you think. I need someone to run interference while I try to save what's left of my balls...you'll send someone 'round? Fantastic! You're a lifesaver."

After making those couple of calls, Chuck tried to find a way to delay Sarah's inevitable explosion. He was considering trying to shift her to crying mode, but she'd need ice-cream to cheer herself up after, and he couldn't bear to hear or see Sarah cry, so it was the lesser of two evils to keep Angry Sarah mad at him for a while.

He was frantically searching for something, anything, that would take the edge of Sarah's madness, and he found it, just underneath the ice cream tub. After washing the worst of the ice cream residue off the wrapper, he took the object of his (temporary) salvation up to the bedroom, where Sarah was stomping around in a tantrum as if she was Godzilla and had heard that Tokyo now had a no-giant-dinosaur-bent-on-destruction policy.

He tentatively walked through the door, ducked a shoe which was hurled at him, and desperately held aloft his trophy so that his beautiful yet destructive bride-to-be could see it.

"Is that...chocolate?" said Sarah hopefully.

Please please please please please let this work, thought Chuck; he was feeling pretty exposed where he was crouched.

"It is chocolate!" shouted Sarah with glee, as she snatched the bar out of Chuck's hand and started devouring it before Chuck had even caught onto what was going on.

"You know," began Sarah with her mouth full. "This won't protect you forever."

Damn, I was hoping she might not figure out what I was trying to do.

"Can't a future husband bring his future wife chocolate?" asked Chuck in an attempt to throw Sarah off the track.

"He can, and I'm not complaining if that's the avenue you choose to take, but it's a little obvious, Chuck. I did just threaten violence against Little Chuck. I bet this is a delaying tactic so you can try and fix it. Am I right?"

"Fine, fine," said Chuck, holding his hands up in defeat. "You got me. But you have just as much to lose as me if you put me out of commission for a couple of nights."

Instead of agreeing with Chuck, as he was expecting, Sarah got a murderous glint in her eyes.

"You better run before these chocolate endorphins run out. I feel Angry Sarah coming through."

"I'll be...uh...yeah...bye!" said Chuck before bolting for the door. Sarah then dropped the chocolate bar on the bed and collapsed in laughter at how scared Chuck looked. It was fun to innocently mess with him, and the still hormonal part of her brain that she had confined somehow was informing her that the chocolate was running out. The logical part informed the hormonal part that Chuck's fear could lead to ice-cream, or at least more chocolate.

This made Hormonal Sarah happy.

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Chuck exited the house, meeting up with the backup he had called in. They looked at him quizzically; wondering why he wasn't in the house. He obliged their looks with an answer.

"Guys, Sarah's gone feral."

"What!" said the two soldiers with unbridled amusement.

"I gave her some chocolate to delay the inevitable 'raining down of all of hell', but it seemed to just make things worse."

"Oh man," said one of the soldiers, who was a father himself. "You've just committed rookie mistake #1. We've all done it, but to be honest, if you're giving your better half chocolate when she's hormonal you better hope that you've got something to back it up with, otherwise she's gonna be on the hunt for sugar. Seriously, it's the equivalent of doing the Running of the Bulls in Pamplona while draped in the Chinese flag."

"What do I do?" asked Chuck, looking at the experienced man for advice.

"First we need something to take her mind off chocolate."

"Which is?"

"You."

"What! I'm not going back in there!"

"Trust me; I've heard it all before. She threatened your man parts didn't she?"

At this Chuck only nodded, as if remembering something traumatic.

"Standard tactic. If my wife did what she was threatening to do every time then we wouldn't have three kids."

"So what should I do?" asked Chuck.

"Just go in there, try and take her mind off things. But most importantly, say nothing. I can't stress that enough. To be honest, she'll probably explode at you anyway, but say nothing committal. Just nod your head occasionally and let her vent. We'll pick up the supplies you're going to be needing, but unless I'm mistaken, you'll be in the SAS training tomorrow won't you?"

"Yup," answered Chuck. "Can't say I'm looking forward to it."

"You'll be fine. Think of this as practice for the interrogation section. Give us twenty minutes, tops, and you'll be so deep in sugar you won't be able to move. If we're not back by then, give her this and get the hell out of there," said the soldier, pressing a couple of Cadbury's Dairy Milks into Chuck's hand.

"Are you maybe not taking this a little too seriously?"

"Trust me lad, it sounds like your lass is one of the tamer ones I've had to deal with. One of the guys who bought his girlfriend on base ended up being put out of the window by her because he said she was looking a bit rounder than usual."

"Well, that was dumb."

"You said it, that's why I told you to keep your trap shut. No telling what might creep out or how she's gonna take it. Just pray for the best, son, and we'll be here to bail you out soon enough. Good luck."

"Err...thanks," said Chuck to the retreating back of the soldier, who was walking to the Land Rover parked by the driveway of Chuck and Sarah's house. Chuck turned back to the house, steeled himself, and let himself back in.

He was barely through the door when a blonde ball of fury descended on him.

"Who were you talking to out there?! You think I'm crazy don't you? That's who you were talking to wasn't it! That was a doctor you called to take me away because you think I'm crazy! I can't believe you! I'm having your kid and all you can think of is to try and send me to the crazy house-"

Just let her vent, Chuck, just let her vent. You can do this, thought Chuck over and over while Sarah continued her rant.

"- and another thing! What was with the delaying tactic? You can't handle me, Chuck? Is that it? You want me all fat and waddling around so you can outrun me? Well I've got news for you, I'm gonna kick your ass every day from now until when the baby's born, just to prove I can-"

Chuck toned out again, wisely choosing to let her rant, and in the process, getting him slowly closer to when the soldier's would be back with ice-cream.

"- don't think I didn't see the melted ice-cream! Don't I mean enough to you to put it in the freezer?! Are you even listening to me?!"

"Huh? What?" said Chuck somewhat unwisely.

"Oh! That's just fantastic! You never listen to a word I say do...you..." said Sarah, trailing off as she saw the soldiers walk in. "Who the hell are they? Are they coming to take me away? I won't go!"

One of the soldiers gulped nervously, and both shot sympathetic looks towards a very shell-shocked Chuck.

"Your fiancé decided to surprise you with this," said the lead soldier, handing Sarah a bag full of chocolate ice cream. Her eyes filled with delight as she saw the tubs, and she practically skipped to the kitchen to get a spoon before disappearing back to the bedroom to attack the dairy desserts.

Chuck was still staring at a spot just to the left of where Sarah had been standing, his eyes glazed over. He was obviously in his "happy place", and he looked happy to be there.

"Lucky bastard, I wish I could have done that and gotten away with it when Mary was pregnant."

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A/N: Yes, an entire chapter of hormonal fluff. That's your reward for surprising me with a ridiculous amount of reviews. If you can get it up to 60 I may be able to write another before I leave, but be warned; I may not be entirely sober as I write it. Press the green button like before, you know you want to.