Snapshot
By Steampunk . Chuckster
Summary: Photojournalist Sarah Walker has spent her short and acclaimed career walking the tightrope of societal norms and an inherent yearning for adventure. When her duty to making appearances for her career puts her in Bartowski Electrics CEO Chuck Bartowski's path, their very different worlds collide. Will she discover there is more adventure to him than meets the eye? Charah AU based on Hitchcock's Rear Window.
A/N: It felt necessary to step back into a period piece again. A time of strife and McCarthyism and distrust and delicious fashion and societal rules for a self-efficient, independent adventuress like Sarah Walker to break. While the color TV industry magnate looks on with pride and a little somethin-somethin extra. So here I am. Welcome back to Snapshot and 1954.
Disclaimer: I do not own CHUCK and I'm making exactly $0 from this story. Per usual.
First it was the way he kept his bread in a strange little dome contraption, and it wasn't even pre-sliced. And then it was the way the cheese he pulled out—two different kinds, the gall—were two bricks, also not pre-sliced.
She'd been all over the world, and she'd seen plenty of people cut into all sorts of different types of loaves of bread, in Europe especially. But here in America, in her small Los Angeles apartments she'd bounced around from the time she was a kid until now, it was only bread that was already sliced, cheese that was already sliced. Sold just in that way, easily and quickly accessible…and cheap.
Sarah watched as he plopped it all on the counter, then crossed the kitchen to a door. He opened it and revealed a pantry. A bluish purple apron hung on a hook on the back of the door. "A-ha," he muttered to himself, taking it down and sliding the upper strap over his head, letting it fall around his neck. Then he arched his torso, looking down over his shoulder to tie a knot at the small of his back.
"Okay, are you ready to be dazzled, Sarah Walker? Best grilled cheese of your life." He clapped his hands together and moved to the counter, picking up a bread slicing knife in his hand. He meticulously, and skillfully she noted, sliced the bread, four slices that looked relatively identical, and then he set down the knife and grabbed a different, smaller one, slicing the cheese much in the same way.
The photojournalist kept a close eye on him as he seemed to notice she still hadn't told him if she was "ready to be dazzled" or not. He blinked, stopped slicing, and looked up at her. "What?" he asked with a cute shrug.
Sarah felt the closed mouth smile grow over her lips. She gestured to the apron. "That's very cute."
Chuck looked down at the button-up he still had on, the sweater shed before they even got to the kitchen. He'd rolled up the sleeves of the shirt, adorably meticulous about it. "Are you making fun of my apron? These are work clothes. I don't want butter splattering on them," he explained, thrusting his arms out to the side, the knife still clutched in his right hand. She giggled and he smiled, letting out a self-deprecating chuckle and tugging at the apron. "My sister bought it for me. I kept getting food on my work clothes when I was cooking."
"I don't blame you for wearing an apron. It's smart. Your sister did you a great service. And still, I say it's cute. Dark colors like that suit you."
"…Are you still making fun of me? I can't tell. It's okay if you are, I just wanna know if you are."
"I was at first, but now I know I was being mean, and mostly I find you and all of this very endearing. I mean that in a completely non-patronizing way."
The CEO laughed, nodding. "Thank you for the honesty." He finished slicing the cheese, and he spread a thin layer of butter on one side of each sandwich, before he put the cheeses in—a lot of it—and then he finally closed the sandwiches. "Here we go…" He dropped a square of butter into the pan. It bubbled as it began to melt and he grabbed the pan handle, letting the butter fill the entire bottom of the pan. Then he dropped both sandwiches in and stepped back. He snapped his fingers and gasped, moving towards the fridge. "Almost forgot the caramelized onions!"
Sarah cracked up and cut him off, grabbing him by his arms and pulling him back towards the stove. His grin was made even better by the pink tip of his tongue poking out between his teeth.
Then he sobered up and pointed at the sandwiches grilling on the stove. "And now we wait."
"Fancy grilled cheese," she said with an emphatic nod.
"Adding another type of cheese isn't—" he started to argue, and then he groaned and threw up a hand. "Okay, fine. Fancy grilled cheese. It's fancy. You happy?"
"Ecstatic." She stuck out her tongue and earned a laugh. She preened, leaning her hip against the counter. "All teasing aside, Chuck, you're very sweet, making me dinner. You didn't have to do this with the way I showed up without even calling first."
"Well, sure, if you'd called, I might not have answered. Apparently there's precedent there." He gave her an apologetic look.
"No, don't do that. If you're not at home, you're not at home. I understand."
"Well, it's—You'll laugh. See, I…well, erm…Heh. I…I called you, too. A few times. And…no answer." He shrugged comically, a sheepish grin on his face.
"You didn't…"
"Oh, I did. I was intent on asking you to dinner again."
They laughed together and she looked down at the sandwiches grilling in the pan, the wide smile still on her face. "I'm sorry I never answered your calls."
"I knew you were out adventuring, or-or working. A part of me did wonder if maybe you'd taken a job out of town. Out of the country even."
Sarah shook her head. "No, I'm here."
"I know," he chuckled, and she bit her lip, embarrassed she'd just said that.
"I would tell you before I leave the country."
And she realized belatedly, she'd just said that.
"You would?" he asked, raising his eyebrows in surprise.
She just barely resisted the urge to squirm in discomfort, controlling herself at the last moment. "Yes. It'd be…rather rude to just up and leave. Not to mention, if you called for weeks on end, unable to reach me, and you didn't know I'd left for a job, who knows what you'd think?"
"I'd think maybe something had happened to you…"
She pulled just slightly on her blouse, realizing belatedly that it had untucked itself in one corner. Damn it, when did that happen? She'd looked so unkempt out in the streets of LA, and she had no idea for how long. She'd taken her jacket off hours ago.
"I-I was thinking perhaps you might assume I was no longer interested and that isn't…something I want you thinking." She affected a teasing smirk, trying to smooth over her own strange feelings in her chest. "Don't want to come back to LA after being in Argentina for a few weeks, seek you out to have dinner again, and find you having dinner with some other girl."
Chuck made a "pffft" sound. "Me? The workaholic? I don't make time for any regular ol' girls in my schedule. Just tall blondes with wicked blue eyes and fancy cameras strung about their necks."
Her smirk faded and she found herself smiling genuinely at him. The way this man made her feel was unlike anything she'd ever experienced before. Like something lovely was ever-so-wonderfully blooming in her chest, filling her up with light.
He was busy flipping the grilled cheese sandwiches, though, having turned back to his stove, wearing that cute apron his sister bought for him to help him preserve his clothes. His curls were mussed, probably from him working on that invention, getting frustrated, pushing his hands through his hair. She could just see it. And with his shirtsleeves rolled up to his elbows, his tie still dangling, untied, a little dangerously actually…
Sarah moved in as he flipped one sandwich, revealing the beautiful golden underside of it, perfectly grilled, so consistent across the surface of the bread. "Oh, look at that! I'm so good at this."
She giggled at how adorably proud he was of the grilled cheese's coloring, and in the meantime, she reached up to hook her finger under the collar of his button-up, finding the tie, and she tugged it up, out from the apron, out of the collar, and safely into her hand.
"Ah! Wh-What're you—?" He turned to give her a befuddled look.
Sarah hoisted the tie for him to see. "This looked dangerous to me all of a sudden, with an open flame right there. I really don't want you catching fire. Not when things seem to be going so well here." She gestured between them and pursed her lips.
He gave her a crooked grin, apparently amused. "And if things weren't going so well here, would you be okay with me catching fire?"
She laughed. "Depends on how not well it's going."
He gave her a wide-eyed look. "Oh boy, now I have to tell my sister the woman I'm seeing is a psychopath. It's okay, ya know? She just wants me to be happy. If a psychopath makes me happy, so be it." This time his tongue poked out between his teeth as he grinned.
He flipped the other sandwich and Sarah took her shot, reaching in to snag the spatula from him, setting it down, grabbing his arm, and turning him to face her so that she could move up onto her tiptoes and hug him tightly with her arms around his shoulders.
She felt him tense for just a moment, and then he gathered her up in his embrace, his arms encircling her waist as he stooped a little, pressing his face into her hair. Oh, it felt good. From the moment he opened his door, his eyes nearly falling out of his head, and the phone out of his grip, she'd wanted this.
Sarah tightened the hug, letting her eyes shut, taking a slow, deep breath. "You wanna know the truth?" she said then, turning her face so that her lips were closer to his ear.
She felt him shiver in her arms, his grip on her getting tighter. Deliciously tighter.
"Always."
"I came to your neck of the woods on purpose. It wasn't an accident by any means. I came here hoping you'd be home because I missed you. And I don't know why I played it off this whole time like it was an accident, like I was wandering around taking photos and realized I was near your place so I thought I'd pop by to say hello. I don't know why I'm trying to play it cool like I haven't been thinking about you and calling to try to reach you and see you again for days. I think I'm just…terrible at figuring out what I'm supposed to do here. Terrible at trying to work out…feelings…and what I should do about said feelings. So I played it off like I haven't missed you like crazy the past few days. I know I'm an idiot," she finished breathily, shaking her head, her eyes still welded shut.
Chuck didn't tease her like she expected him to. He didn't laugh at her, not even a chuckle. She expected that, too. She would certainly deserve that. She was ridiculous.
"It's actually pretty nice to know I'm not alone in this," he finally said quietly into her hair.
Her eyes snapped open. That was unexpected.
But he held her tight enough she couldn't pull back to look into his face for answers to her questions.
So she just continued to hug him back.
Luckily he continued.
"I have no idea how I'm supposed to handle this kind of…erm…intense… Um. The sensations I feel around you. I know it's probably too intense. And I don't want you to run in the other direction. I don't know what to do with myself around you. All I know is I want you. I want to keep seeing you, being with you. That's the only sure thing in all of this for me."
Sarah smiled where he couldn't see it, and she bit her lip. "I can make that work, I think."
"Yeah?"
She finally pulled back, lowering herself back onto her heels and looking up into his face, her arms still slung over his shoulders. She nodded, grinning and biting her lip. "Yeah."
"Okay. Okay, good. And hey, listen. I appreciate you trying to play it cool around me, Sarah, but look at me right now, huh?" He stepped back out of her embrace and gestured to his current state. Mussed hair, messy work clothes, tie gone, the apron, bare feet… "I'm anything but cool. I don't need the woman I'm seeing out-cooling me, a'right? Nooo sir."
Sarah giggled, her shoulders bouncing, and she closed the distance again, this time curling her fist in the apron and tugging him in close for a kiss. This was the other thing she'd been yearning for.
Thinking about.
God, constantly.
Tossing and turning in bed while trying to fall asleep, obsessing over it practically.
She felt so completely out of her depth. And she wanted him so badly. And in spite of how cute he was trying to pretend he wasn't "cool", he was the most significantly phenomenal person she'd ever met. She wasn't sure how this relationship would go, what it would look like, what the future would bring.
Would it be filled with landmines? The way it had been with Mike and some of the other men she'd dated? Landmines her lifestyle had put there, sure, but also their lifestyles.
The thing was…his lips felt soft and warm and invigorating against hers, and his hands were large and emanated heat, made her body come alive as he touched her, like electricity was shooting through her veins. …And she wanted this.
They finally broke the kiss, Chuck mostly because she'd gotten lost in it, and he hummed urgently. "The grilled cheese," he panted against her mouth, and she let him go, giggling as he rushed to them, adorably stooping and scraping the spatula underneath to peek and see if they were burning. "Oh, I think this is gonna be absolutely perfect…"
"I expected nothing less from you, Chuck Bartowski," she chirped, her chest full.
"Would…Would you mind getting two plates for me? The cupboard right behind me, there." He pointed, scooting the sandwiches about.
Sarah popped the cupboard open and snagged two glass blue plates from the pile, pulling them down and hurrying back over to accept the sandwiches he presented onto each plate.
He was right. They did look perfect. And her stomach was grumbling wildly at the sight and smell of the food.
Within two minutes, they each had a pickle and a sandwich and were sitting at his small, round table just outside of the kitchen, smiling at one another around the massive bites they each took.
It was still very hot, the cheese especially, but she played it off gracefully enough. Chuck didn't so much, letting out a surprised squeak and trying to blow on the food while it was still in his mouth, all while mumbling "mfff hot oh…h'ahhh".
She just watched, smiling.
"Drink?" he asked, climbing to his feet.
She laughed and nodded. "What do you have?"
"Anything. Everything. Vodka, gin, whiskey, rum…" He was counting it off on his fingers. Before she could choose, he exclaimed, "Oh! And bourbon!"
"That." She pointed at him. "Bourbon sounds amazing right now. Especially with this." He smiled and she realized she'd picked the priciest thing. "Wait, no. That's—Bourbon is expensive. Don't break that out for me. Just make me something else with some gin or—"
"Ah ah. You said bourbon. You're getting bourbon. You've got taste," he said with a shrug, backing his way into the kitchen again. "I like a woman with taste."
She smirked at his flirtation, winked at him, and went back to her sandwich, feeling things starting to settle inside of her. The nerves that had been swirling in her chest, making her toes and fingers tingle, settled as well.
And instead, she enjoyed her food, her drink, and this man to their fullest extent.
When they finished eating, they walked their plates into the kitchen and he held up a hand as she moved towards the sink. "No, you're the guest. No dishes. Find another record to put on while I do this." She glared a little and he held up his hands. "I've only got the one apron and you're wearing that gorgeous pearl blouse. I'm not having that get ruined. Nothing doing."
Sarah giggled and moved to her tiptoes again, kissing his cheek. "Fine. Okay if I kick off my shoes?"
"Of course. Make yourself at home."
She pursed her lips and twisted them to the side, feeling shy suddenly as she backed out of the kitchen with a nod. "Okay. Thanks."
Make yourself at home…
It was hard not to with this guy around. He was such a calming presence even as he made something buzz inside of her, an insatiable tingle behind her belly button. But she went to the door and kicked off her flats, scooting them against the wall and out of the way, where she'd seen his shoes earlier. And then she went to the wooden record case against the opposite wall of his living room. She noticed it had been painted an almost bluish purple color and she wondered if he'd painted it himself. Raising an eyebrow, she moved in to run her fingers along the records.
When she found something she recognized, she took it out and peered at it with a smile. She went to the player, removed the one Chuck had already put in, and slotted the one she'd picked in its place.
This player was much, much nicer than the ones she'd worked before, but she managed it anyway, and soon Elle Fitzgerald's beautiful, smiling voice filled the condo. Sarah sighed and turned to peer into the kitchen. He was still hunched over the sink, cleaning the plates, setting them in the drying rack. She moved to the table to pick up her drink and finished it. Then she held up her glass and he turned to look at her.
"Mind if I pour a bit more?"
"Please do."
"Want some?"
"God yes please."
She giggled and picked up his glass as well, going into the kitchen and refilling the glasses, and then she went out to his couch, sitting down and pulling her legs up to tuck them under her body.
Her eyes drifted shut as she leaned her cheek against the back of the couch, the glass propped securely in one hand against her thigh, and she just listened to the water from the sink, the soft clinking of him doing dishes, Ella's voice over the melancholy tones of the instruments behind her.
She didn't even notice the water turning off. But she did notice the sound of bare feet padding across wood floors, and the couch cushions shifting with someone else's weight easing against them.
Sarah felt lips graze her skin just over the collar of her blouse and she smiled, her eyes staying shut as said lips shifted a bit towards the back, delicate fingers moving the tail of her hair to the side oh so gently so that he could kiss the nape of her neck. Warm, long kisses trailed up to her jaw, the spot just behind her ear that made her suck in a deep breath, her blood starting to boil as she kept up the game.
Until she finally opened her eyes, turning her head just enough to glance over her shoulder. He was hovering over her, one hand braced on the back of the couch near her head, the other on the cushion by her hip, purposely not touching her save for what he was doing with his lips.
"Dishes done?" she teased.
He smiled crookedly and nodded. "Very done. I dried them too."
"Well, look at you."
Chuck reached over and carefully took her glass from her, setting it on the coffee table, and when he came back, he cupped her face and kissed her squarely on the mouth, his body melting against hers finally.
She knew exactly what this was and her heart began to race.
Pulling back out of the kiss, beaming at the desperate little mew he made at the loss of her lips against his, she arched her brow. "Oh, really? Is that what's happening?"
"Yes," he said immediately with an emphatic nod. Then he paused, rearing his head back just slightly, looking at her through his eyelashes. "If…that's okay?"
She slowly reached up to twist her fists in his shirt, Ella's playful drawl in the background making her feel mischievous, and she yanked him against her, falling back onto the couch cushions and bringing him with her as he breathed, "Oh!"
Once her back hit the couch cushion and she had nowhere else to go, his weight pressed down into her, his body draped over hers, and she grabbed his face in both hands, kissing him passionately.
Who was she kidding? This was what she'd missed. Sure, other things, the sound of his laugh, the warmth in his eyes when he looked at her, the way he listened so fully when she spoke, like no one ever had before, the respect he had for her eclipsing anything she'd ever experienced. Those were all so much more important, so much more validating.
But God this just felt so endlessly good.
He grumbled under his breath, his fingers running along the wide belt she had on, and she smiled against his lips, moving her own hand down to grab his shirt and tug it out of his pants. She pawed at it until it was free and then she snuck her hand underneath, expecting to feel his soft, warm skin, hard muscle… Instead she found a thin layer of soft cotton, the heat of his skin radiating through it, but still…
She broke the kiss and he immediately took the opportunity to attack her jaw and neck with his lips. She giggled, tilting her head to the side to give him better access, and then she panted, "Why are you wearing so many layers? What's this even for?" She tugged teasingly on the undershirt.
He chuckled and she felt his teeth graze her throat. It made a shiver go through her and she just barely bit back a hum as he placed a long kiss to the juncture of her jaw and neck. "I don't know, really. Warmth? It's just what fellas wear. I have a whole drawer full of 'em."
"In different colors?"
He chuckled again and pulled back to beam at her. "No, I think they're all white."
"You men are a strange lot. That's not fun at all, a drawer full of white undershirts."
"Hey, now. Some of 'em have sleeves and some of 'em don't. I'm a man of intrigue, you never know which one I'm gonna choose on any given day."
Sarah's head fell back against the couch as she laughed. "You're right. I judged too quickly."
His brown eyes emitted a happy light as he reached up to trace his fingertips down the side of her face. "How is your skin so soft? It's unreal."
She melted at the awe in his voice, the way his eyebrows went up in the middle as he shook his head at her. Biting her lip, she sighed, shrugging one shoulder. "Honestly, I have a ten minute routine in the morning and at night."
Chuck blinked, seemingly not expecting her candid answer. "Oh. It's very effective."
"Thank you." She grabbed his undershirt in both hands at the small of his back, twisting it her fists. "You mind if I pull this out of the way?"
"Not a bit," he drawled breathily.
Giggling, she tugged it out of his pants and dove in to feel his bare skin. He flinched a little and she hissed apologetically, wrinkling her nose. "Sorry. Cold hands."
"Worth it." And then he lunged to kiss her some more and she let her hands explore.
They stayed that way for some time, Ella Fitzgerald quietly singing with the whine of a horn accompanying her. And she felt the heat slowly simmering, starting at her toes, making its way past her ankles and up to her knees, climbing at a deliciously glacial pace.
He then broke the kiss for a minute to unbutton his shirt all the way, trying in vain to shove the sleeves down his arms, but they were caught on his elbows, thanks to the way he'd rolled them up to cook. He began to thrash his arms a bit impatiently.
Sarah laughed at him, putting calming hands on his chest. "Wait, wait. Hold on there, tiger. Let me help."
He let her sit up next to him, their legs untangling, and he stuck his arm out towards her. Like a little boy who needed help getting ready for church or something. It was too adorable for words. So she didn't speak.
She simply set her skilled fingers to the sleeve, unbuttoning and unrolling it, waiting for him to switch arms so she could do the other one. "There."
"Thank you," he said softly, meeting her gaze. And then he grabbed his button-up and shrugged it off, revealing his shoulders and arms to her. He'd worn the no sleeves version of the undershirt today. Thank God. Those long arms of his, the broad shoulders.
This time, he laid back over the other end of the couch and pulled her with him. She happily draped her body over his and let her full weight press him down into the cushions. He accepted her gladly, grinning like an idiot, his arms winding around her torso to hug her even closer.
Oh, this was the pinnacle of what life had to offer, she was sure of it. With her face buried under his jaw, each of them wrapped up in the other's arms, his warm, hard body splayed out beneath hers, legs tangled again. She could feel his heart beating under her ear, she heard the thu-thump thu-thump… thu-thump thu-thump. It was reassuring, comforting…She didn't want to move from that spot ever.
He moved his hands against her back, the thin material of her blouse shifting as he rubbed the muscles in her shoulders and the small of her back.
Sarah pursed her lips and pressed them to his throat, feeling his chest expand in a sigh.
She shifted up his body a little, smirking at the way his breath caught and he groaned softly, and she looked down into his face. "You know this has been the best ending to my day since…" She raised her eyebrows thoughtfully, tilting her head. "Hmmm the last time I ended my day in your arms. A few days ago."
He chuckled. "Ditto." Then he bit his bottom lip and looked at her in a way that sent electricity running in a current through her body. "Maybe we should find a way to do this more often."
She moaned, nodding. "Please, can we?"
And then she sent him a look of mischief and dove down to capture his lips in a fiery kiss, nudging his mouth open, devouring his satisfied groan as their tongues met. They had to break for air and she dotted her lips down his cheek to his jaw and back again, pecking him on the mouth and breathing, "But how? With our schedules…" She gave him another peck. "And the way we keep calling each other at times when we're not home…"
"This," he responded, diving in to place a long, hot kiss to her neck, making her eyelids flutter and a sinful soft whimper come from between her lips. He looked almost smug when he pulled back, the little devil. "First thing's first. You show up here whenever you damn well please."
"Oh, gladly," she chirped, giggling. "And if you aren't here, I'll sit outside your door clawing at it miserably with little meows like a kitten looking for attention."
He cracked up. "Maybe don't do that, Sarah. If anybody accidentally wanders to the ninth floor and sees you like that, they might call the police and I'll have to bail you out and find a way to convince them you aren't a madwoman."
"I am a madwoman…"
"Shh. They don't need to know that."
She laughed, moving to kiss him again, cupping his face in her hands tenderly. She nudged him with her hips, hoping for a reaction, and she got it. He froze and whimpered, and then he scooted up the couch to half lean against the arm, tugging her with him, and he put a hand at the small of her back to press her lower half more tightly against his. She moaned as the sensations spilled through her.
And in the back of her mind, she knew she'd omitted what he might have expected from her. A hearty agreement with his offer for her to show up whenever she wanted to, and an offer of her own for him to show up at hers.
But she couldn't do that. Not yet. That was…a safe place. A place she didn't let men into. Carina and Zondra even received very rare invitations, their visits to her home few and far between. They both understood it. She was private. Carina called her picky. She'd let her have it.
That was another sticking point with Mike. He'd only seen her apartment a handful of times, scheduled appointments when she had time to hide things from her other life, her secret side jobs, straighten up, make it look normal and not extremely lived in. She still heard his voice, the bite in it, and perhaps the hurt, as he said, Damn it, Sarah, I feel like I'm going to the dentist. Waiting on the line for a secretary to give me a day when I can make an appointment. It's not civil.
Her inability to fully let him in, even though they were in love, had probably been what sent him packing in the end, not just that she went away a lot for her work.
Sarah broke the kiss, feeling a little raw suddenly, not because of Mike per se, but because she genuinely liked this guy so damn much her insides felt liable to burst from it, and if things continued this way, he'd inevitably notice, like Mike had, and he'd inevitably take it to heart in the worst way. It would hurt him.
She pushed her face against his collarbone and cuddled in closer, his arm tightening around her shoulders and hugging her against him.
She searched for something else to talk about. Something that wasn't necessarily…about them. And she realized who he'd been talking to on the phone when she'd arrived.
Oh.
As distracted as she was by how good it felt to see him again, be in his presence, she'd totally forgotten about the phone call.
"That phone call," she said, her lips moving against his skin. "When I first got here. I just…realized I never asked if you're all right. It sounded important. But then seeing you again kind'a distracted me." She smiled, turning her face so that he could feel it against him.
He made a cute little thoughtful sound. "Hm. Come to think of it, I'd totally forgotten about the call, too."
"Until this moment," she provided, pulling back to look at him. "This moment in which you're going to tell me whether or not you're all right."
Chuck made a contrite face. "Yes."
"Yes, you're…going to tell me? Or yes, you're all right?"
"I'm fine. I'm okay. And so is the Bartowski Electric flagship store."
"Oh. Is that what the call was about?"
"Yes. I… Well, see… I hired a private security firm to handle the situation at the store after I got that tip. They've been keeping an eye out, guarding the place after closing and then throughout the night. If anyone did mean to rob our biggest and first store, they've likely been scared off by those fellas. At least, that was my hope."
Sarah searched his eyes. "So it's over? The threat?"
"S'far as I can tell."
There was something else, something he wasn't telling her. She felt it, saw it in the way he stared up at the ceiling instead of meeting her eyes. But she wasn't entitled to know what that something else was, and she knew it. For all intents and purposes, they barely knew one another, they'd just met, and this was very, very new.
She didn't blame him for not sharing everything.
"Good," she said quietly. "I've been…um, worried. About you, about your store."
"Really?"
Sarah frowned. "What do you mean by that tone of surprise? Of course I worried. You had to hire a private security team to guard your store because someone said there were people planning on robbing it. That's frightening." He nodded quietly. "To make matters more frightening, this group of criminals gave their secret informant enough time to betray them and warn you, which means it was likely premeditated. Planned."
He moved to sit up a little and she shifted so that he had room. His eyes nearly popped out of his skull. "And that…that means…" He sent her a stricken look.
"They know you, your business. They know who you are and what your store is about, and they picked you out of the bunch, Chuck. Your store. Not the countless others that exist out there."
"Why?" he asked.
"I don't know." But she intended to find out. She liked him a lot. And she wanted to get to spend more time with him, which meant getting these Eberle bastards to stay away from him. But she'd be lying if she didn't admit to caring for him as much as she knew she already did, and that meant seeing that he and his company stayed safe.
God, if Zondra and Carina could see this now, if they could hear her thoughts, they'd faint from shock. Sarah Walker, lying draped over a man worth millions upon millions of dollars, his face on business magazines. Some covers, even.
One of the most eligible bachelors out there, if you could get past the fact that he'd prioritize his TVs over you. That was according to one magazine she'd picked up in the interim between Paris and their accidental reunion.
The glib way they'd talked about him, as if he was some sort of machine, sexless and inert, rather than the man she'd spent the night with in Paris, vibrant and funny, passionate, cute…full of warmth and kindness.
"Well, the guy I hired is moving on. I mean, the private security firm. They got a tip somehow, he wouldn't tell me how, trade secrets and all that. The criminal bastards are moving on to an easier target. They're giving up on B.E., so that's a relief." He did look relieved. She didn't want to spoil his relief with her own worry. Not until she confirmed for herself that this was done, over.
And she thought perhaps she had…but she had one more thing to do, just in case this John Casey fellow was wrong about Eberle and his goons. If they had even a slight urge to wait for Casey's firm to move on before they swung back around to hit Bartowski Electric's flagship store, she would make sure to quash it. Kill it dead.
And she had a plan for it, too.
}o{
She was silent, staring off into space, her body tense.
"…Sarah?" he tried, giving her hip a slight squeeze.
She blinked and came back to him, biting her lip. "Sorry. I, uh…"
"You okay? I said the private security firm is done guarding my store and you got quiet and pensive."
Sarah nodded. "No, I know. It… I'm fine. I guess it kind'a worries me, them walking away from this like they're so sure. And the fact that you, uh… Well, people know who you are, don't they? A lot of different kinds of people."
Chuck frowned, unsure of where she was going with this. "Sure, yeah. I suppose so. I own Bartowski Electric. They probably see me in the advert—" Then it clicked. "Oh… Yeah, people know me. Even, um, even the bad people." He thought he had an idea of what she was thinking about, what had her worried. "If you think hanging around me is going to mean you're in some kind of danger because I'm on the radar of bad guys like these robbers, I—"
"No! It isn't—"
"I'm not going to let anything bad happen to you," he rushed on, cutting her off. She got quiet, her blue eyes wide, surprised. "Maybe that might not…mean much. I'm not much of a fighter. But I'd get scrappy if your safety depended on it."
A small smile tilted at the corner of her mouth and she propped her elbow on his shoulder, peering at him. "I don't need you to protect me, Chuck Bartowski."
He swallowed hard, afraid he'd offended her. "No, no. Of course not. You've gotten onto small planes that flew over the Pacific, shoved into an itsy-bitsy space with lusty Australian servicemen and you held your own." She reared her chin back. He winced. "I-I just mean, I'm sure you didn't take any of their guff."
"Oh," she said with a chuckle, "They gave me a lot more than guff." What?! His eyes popped and she giggled at him. "They hadn't seen a woman in a while, these fellas. But I had knives on me and they knew it."
Chuck nearly swallowed his tongue, sitting up a bit more, his back pressed against the corner of the couch. She shifted so that her long legs draped off to the side, her weight resting in his lap. "Knives?"
Sarah went a little quiet then, her eyes darting to the side. "Leading this sort of life isn't exactly safe. I have knives when I travel. Never know what you're gonna run into." She cleared her throat, still not looking at him. "I'm not the person you met at that gala in Paris, Chuck. The beautiful gown and the hair all coiffed. I carry knives. And I…know how to use them."
He watched her shift off of his lap altogether, finding a small space on the couch cushions to sit, pulling her knees in close to her body, lifting her chin, her jaw going hard, determination in her eyes, even as she still didn't meet his gaze.
What was she thinking here?
That he thought he'd spent that night and the next day with some princess or duchess or something, all poise and grace and politeness, innocent, naive to the world? The woman who captured that photograph of the crashing race car was anything but those things. Though she did have grace and poise, and she had been polite… Innocent? Surely not. Naive? Even less so.
Did she think the fact that she knew how to use knives to protect herself was going to make him go running for the hills?
"Sarah…" he muttered quietly. "Look at me."
It took a moment, as if she wasn't sure, and then she finally did, meeting his gaze. God, her eyes weren't even the bright blue he'd kept in his memory after Paris, not in the dim lighting of his living room. Instead, they were like the sky when a storm was brewing, grey clouds flooding the late afternoon blue, a deepening blue, a darkening sky.
"Do you think Mr. Casey would be offended if I just hired you the next time I needed protection?" Her jaw fell open a bit, and then amusement came alive in her face and she laughed, shaking her head. "It'd be a lot cheaper having just one person instead of an army of men," he said, trying to keep a straight face. Only he was proud of himself for getting her to laugh. He still wasn't sure what she expected him to say, how she expected him to react to that information.
She raised a perfectly groomed eyebrow, her laughter fading even as the amused glint remained in her eyes. "Did you just call me cheap?"
"What, you're gonna charge me the same as the private security agency with dozens of guys?"
"Just because I'm one person doing the work of dozens of guys, you think I deserve to be paid less? If anything I should be paid more. I have skill sets those fellas could never even dream of; you better believe you're paying more for that," she said with a certain bite to her words, an iciness that made him grin oh so slowly.
"You make an excellent point. All right then, I'll double the pay." He laughed as she gave him a satisfied nod. He shook his head at her. "I've never known anyone who can handle themselves in a knife fight—at least not that I know of."
"Yeah, well…I'm sure you've never been seen around with women who have knives in their cute little handbags, either."
"Surely not," he said with a snort. "Doesn't mean I'm not open to that changing."
Sarah gave him a long look. "It doesn't…intimidate you." It didn't sound like a question. She breathed it, almost as if in disbelief. "Or…offend you. I-I mean, that I don't need you to be the big strong man protecting me from…I don't know, whatever."
Chuck made a face. "I won't lie to you, I'd still try. It's in my nature. You protect the people you care about. I was raised with that in here." He poked himself in the chest. "Did you think I need you to be some sort of delicate flower?"
"I…don't know what I thought. Honestly." She ducked her chin, looking embarrassed. "But I'm sorry for jumping to conclusions."
"No apology necessary. I don't pretend to know how anybody else operates. But that isn't how I operate." He wrinkled up his nose then, sitting up so that he could lean closer, and he lowered his voice, meeting her eyes. "D'you think you'd let me see them sometime?" She raised an eyebrow in question. "The knives. Your knives."
The raised eyebrow became a little salacious then and his blood rushed through his body, so suddenly he thought he heard it swish in his ears.
"If you ever see one of my knives, it's probably not going to turn out very well for you," she said slowly.
Chuck made a quiet strangled sound and brought his fist up to his mouth, clamping his teeth down around it, squeezing his eyes shut.
It made her laugh. "You are such a goofball," she said through the laughter.
He lowered his hand back to his lap and smiled at her, and she leaned in to press a kiss to his cheek, sending warmth spilling through him. He rounded her waist with his arms and gave her a teasing tug, pulling her in closer.
She squeaked and giggled, draping her arms lazily over his shoulders, her fingers playing with his hair.
"Okay, then. I suppose this means you aren't worried about the dangers of being with someone who's in the public eye."
"No." She gave him a teasingly offended look. "I'm not worried about that. I'm worried for you," she said. "I guess I'm starting to get a little protective, too. Don't worry about making sure nothing bad happens to me; I've got that covered. I want you to focus on making sure nothing bad happens to you."
He squeezed her tighter to him, leaning down to place a slow kiss to her jaw. He thought he felt her shiver in his arms. "I'll do my best," he breathed against her skin, pressing another kiss to the spot right below her ear where her jaw ended. This time, she definitely shivered. "And in the meantime, maybe I'll keep this girl around who knows how to pull tricks with knives."
She giggled into his ear, hugging him around his shoulders. "If I have to use a knife, rest assured, nothing about it is gonna be a 'trick'."
This time Chuck shivered.
He turned his face to kiss her temple, then the line of her cheekbone, and he moved up to dot a kiss to her eyebrow, down the bridge of her nose, and finally he pushed his lips against the corner of her mouth.
She looked up at him, her chest heaving, her fingers pushing into his hair at the nape of his neck, tightening in the curls at the top of his head. "You're playing with fire, television man."
"Not much into fire…electricity is more my thing."
"Terrible," she said, shaking her head with a gusty giggle.
"I know," he responded with a toothy grin. But then he sobered up significantly, narrowing his eyes in thought. "You know, what with Mr. Casey and his security team moving onto another job, that leaves me without protection." He pursed his lips innocently and he could see in her smirk that she knew where he was going with this.
"Are you afraid to be in this nice, big condo of yours alone, Mr. Bartowski?" She bit her bottom lip, looking up at him through her eyelashes.
"Oh, terrified."
Her smirk deepened and she pushed her chest into his, her full weight pressing against him in a pointed way. He tilted backwards and let her pin him in against the couch cushions, his head on the armrest. "D'you need me?"
Yes.
So much.
But he was afraid to let her know just how much. That felt like a bit too much for how new this all was. He didn't want to scare her off. "You and your knives," he breathed instead, letting his fingers draw a pattern along the small of her back.
She shifted so that her weight was pushing meaningfully down against his lap. She even rolled her hips, leaving absolutely nothing to question. "I didn't bring my knives. …But I can make do with whatever you've got in your kitchen."
His eyelids fluttered as she rolled her hips again. And when she set her skilled fingers to his belt, he gave himself over to her completely, pushing everything else out of his mind and diving in headfirst, not coming up for air for a long, long time.
A/N: More soon. I'm on a roll with these 1950s idiots. I'd appreciate a review even though I guess this website isn't alerting us to them anymore. What...ARE they doing over here these days? Hm.
-SC
