The Detective and the Tech Guy

Authors: Steampunk . Chuckster & dettiot

Rating: T

Summary: A case of mistaken identity and murder brings Sarah Walker, Pinkerton agent, to sunny California. Protecting the heir to the Bartowski Electronics Corporation should be just business - but Chuck Bartowski fills out a suit nicely and makes a mean martini. Chuck lobbied to hire the Pinkerton Agency, but had no idea the detective they'd send would be as alluring, intelligent and fascinating as Sarah Walker. Will the detective and the tech guy solve the mystery, distracted by the riddle in their own hearts? An homage to The Thin Man movies co-written by Steampunk . Chuckster and dettiot.

Disclaimer: We don't own Chuck or The Thin Man series. And we're making no monetary profit from this story.

Author's Note: This one was written by Steampunk . Chuckster. It's a really long one (that's what she said OH MAN!) so enjoy.

XOXOXOXOXOXO

Packing for a five day vacation would have seemed like the easiest task in the world to Detective Sarah Walker…if it weren't for the fact that most of her clothes were in Chicago. After Oslo, she got back to her apartment and spent less than thirty minutes shoving some clothes, toiletries, a lot of shoes, and not much else, into a suitcase and jumping onto the first flight from Chicago to LA. She didn't second guess, she didn't over think it. She just did it.

God, she was so glad she did that. So incredibly glad. It was more than worth it, seeing him standing there all rumpled and sleepy and hers. And the days after that…Well, suffice to say, she didn't have to worry about booking a hotel room. Which was good because she hadn't exactly thought that far.

And when Chuck suggested they go away together for a few days, there was nothing to do but agree. It didn't matter that she had never in her life gone away with anyone for any reason. Well, it did matter. It felt strange and new and different. And other words that meant her life was changing. Whether they were nestled together on the roof of his building, tangled up in his bed, or on some island that wasn't even really an island but more like a peninsula…any time spent with Chuck was worth any amount of newness. It was worth change.

Chuck Bartowski was worth change.

But that hadn't made packing any easier.

She realized belatedly that she had nothing but the clothes she had already worn the past few days, all of which were dirty. She hadn't thought to pack her bathing suit when she left Chicago and Chuck was taking her to a beachfront rental home, for God's sakes! She didn't have flip-flops, or a hat, or anything really that was required for a vacation at the beach.

Chuck had seen her plight and immediately assured her that they would shop first thing when they got to Coronado, and she agreed wholeheartedly, but only if he helped her pick out her bikini. The blush on his face had a hint of something else—a memory perhaps, of another time when he had helped her shop—a dress zipper, eyes meeting in the mirror.

And now Sarah shivered pleasantly as Chuck pulled out of his parking space and guided his first generation Prius onto the road. He had taken it to a car wash the day before even though she'd insisted it was unnecessary. The fact that he was embarrassed by the state of his car was laughable. The inside especially was pristine, but then, that wasn't surprising in the least, considering Chuck was such a neat freak. It was one of the things she found attractive—just one thing in a list of innumerable other traits she found attractive in Chuck Bartowski.

Suddenly, Chuck's hand was raised between them, his iPhone clutched between his fingers. "Co-pilot, you have a mission."

She just looked between him and the phone. "Oookaaay…?"

"Find the playlist titled 'Our First Road Trip' and I shall do the rest!" She just stared at him wordlessly. While they were rushing about preparing for their spur of the moment trip (a trip Chuck impressed her with by booking something on such short notice considering they were leaving the day after deciding to even go somewhere), Chuck was rambling on and on about his road trip mix which seemed so unimportant and silly. And he was opening cupboards and grabbing bags of chips and other things she didn't realize he indulged in. When he insisted he only ate "this crap" on road trips, she was even more baffled. And then he had asked her what sodas he should buy—and oh God he never asked her that before! How hadn't he asked that before? How did he not know if she liked soda?

He was an utter mess, frankly.

Meanwhile, she had been trying to ask if he had the number of the realtor's office, if he knew where they should park, if he had directions, where would they eat for lunch when they got there, or would it be more like dinner time?

She went with the flow because Chuck insisted this was what a road trip was all about. You had to have "tunes and snacks" and nothing else mattered, apparently. And it wasn't exactly like Sarah had any other way of doing it because she had never been on a legitimate road trip. At least, not for fun. She had never gotten into a car with someone, overjoyed about arriving at their destination. It was always about the job, business and never pleasure.

Needless to say, the idea of a "road trip mix" was incredibly silly to the Pinkerton agent. Until now. Our First Road Trip. There was something inherently heartwarming and sweet and beautiful about how easy it must have been for him to type it into his iPhone playlist. "Our" gave her a feeling of belonging, like she deserved to be here sitting in his car next to him, like there was no one else he would rather have in her place. And "First" made her think of longevity. This was the first because there would be a second and a third and a fourth, et cetera. The best part was that he probably hadn't even thought twice about what it all meant for them, because he was comfortable here.

And God, she wished she could be like that. But she was consistently over thinking their relationship. What did this mean? And what was that about?

She vowed not to do that during their vacation. Their first vacation.

"Sarah?" She blinked and looked up at Chuck. He was still steering with one hand, his brow furrowed a little as he glanced away from the road at her. "It's okay if you don't want to listen to music right now. We can shelve the playlist."

"No! No, I'm sorry. I want to listen to it. I just…I was thinking about how much I like the title," she said, a little surprised by her own candidness. But she went ahead full steam. "Our First Road Trip. It's kinda sweet."

She leaned over and kissed his cheek, before finding the playlist in his phone and putting it on.

"Well it is our first road trip," he said through a massive grin.

"Yeah," she breathed, reaching up to gently rub the back of his neck as he drove. The first of many, she added silently.

—-

"Eat it!"

"No!"

"Eat it, damn it!"

"No! I refuse!"

"Detective Walker! Do I have to turn this car around? Because I will!"

"I'm not putting this shit in my body, Chuck Bartowski!"

Chuck stared at her, his eyes wide and his mouth agape. "You did not just refer to Sour Cream and Onion Pringles as shit."

"I'm afraid I just did," she snarked, shaking the tube. "Because that's what they are." She turned it around to look at the label with nutrition facts (or lack thereof, as the case may be), then held up a finger. "Ah. This sounds pleasant. 180 milligrams of sodium. That's like pouring salt directly into your mouth, Chuck."

"Um. Not true," Chuck insisted in a flat voice, pointing his finger at her. "Even if it were true, which it's not, that sounds utterly delicious."

"Ew!" she laughed.

"Just try one!"

"No! I'll die of a heart attack the moment it touches my tongue!"

He laughed, throwing his head back, checking over his shoulder before slipping into the carpool lane. "You will not and you know it." He sighed deeply. "Fine. Fiiine, then don't eat one. But can you pop it open and put one in my mouth?" He shifted his head to the side a little and opened his mouth, keeping his eyes on the road.

"Nope. I'd like to keep you around at least past the age of thirty."

"You would, huh?"

"Mhm. At the very least."

Chuck couldn't help but smile at her, taking in the contented softness in her blue eyes and the slow smile on her lips. And then she pressed the button for the window and made like she was going to toss the Pringles out of the car.

"No, don't!" he yelled, laughing in spite of himself as he reached over and snagged the tube from her. "Littering! I'm disappointed in you, Sarah Walker. How very uncivilized."

She laughed when he tossed the tube into the back of the car. "Aww, I was just teasing. I was going to get you some. You want a Pringle, baby?" she teased with a pout.

He felt her hand slide over his shoulders and comb through his hair behind his ear. It was push and go for a moment there, but he just barely managed to bite back a groan. Instead he snorted. "Nah, I don't need it. Oh! My song!"

Chuck reached over and turned the volume dial, raising his voice to a pitch that was possibly detrimental to his vocal chords. But when Whitney sang about wanting to dance with somebody, there was no other choice but to sing along with her.

Sarah's laughter rang through the car, almost drowning out the song, until Chuck finally stopped singing and turned it down a little, grinning madly as they continued down the 5 Freeway. Song after song passed through the Prius and minutes ticked by. California scenery flitted past their windows and Chuck eventually reached a hand over to thread his fingers through hers.

Forty five minutes later, traffic had them at a standstill and he felt dual pangs of annoyance and impatience. He just wanted to be there. He wanted to be there, in their rental house, and he wanted to eat, and he wanted a nap with Sarah curled up against him. He hated traffic, and he hated that it made him surly. Just then, Chuck caught movement in his peripheral. He furrowed his brow and glanced over to see Sarah turn up the music a little and start bobbing her head. Then she pumped her fists a little before raising them above her and jerking her body back and forth, an outrageously wide grin lighting up her face.

He couldn't help it.

He let out a loud bark of laughter, which resulted in getting his shoulder smacked by the giggling detective. Sarah Walker dancing to his music was so incredibly endearing and heartwarming, and it was definitely the last thing he expected to see during their road trip. It wasn't that she was particularly strait-laced. On the contrary, she had proven herself to be anything but strait-laced in Paris, and then again during the last few days they spent in his condo.

But there was something uninhibited about her in this moment. She wasn't hiding behind a mask or holding back. She quite literally was letting loose, letting the music and the fact that she was on vacation sweep her up. She seemed…happy. And that, more than anything, made the negative thoughts about the traffic and being impatient to get to the island flutter out the window as though they'd never existed in the first place.

She smacked him one last time for good measure, wrinkling her nose in amusement even while she blushed.

"You gonna keep dancing?" he asked. "You can, ya know. It's okay. It's allowed." "Shut up. No. You killed it."

"What?"

"Never dancing again. That was it. Hope you got a good mental picture." She raised her chin prissily, but still accepted him when he took her hand, even going so far as to squeeze back.

"The best mental picture ever."

—-

Something soft brushed against her forehead, then her cheek, then her other cheek, and finally her lips. Sarah hummed into Chuck's kiss, coming out of her half-sleep enough to wrap her hand around the back of his neck.

As she blinked open her eyes and pulled back a little, she realized they were parked and in a garage of some sort. It was a good thing they were parked, because otherwise she wasn't sure how Chuck would have pulled off his chosen tactic for waking her up without getting them both killed.

"Kay, well. I'm gonna go ahead and request you wake me up like that all the time, if you don't mind," she murmured with a smile.

"Oh no no. I don't mind." He grinned cheekily and winked, and she realized he was splayed over the front seat and console, hovering over her body in a rather uncomfortable-looking fashion and bracing himself with one hand clutching her seat back and the other pressed against the seat beside her thigh.

"Are we here?"

"Mhm." But he didn't move, instead leaning in to kiss her again, his lips a little more probing than they were at first.

"Shouldn't we go inside?" she whispered into the kiss.

"Meh." He kissed her even harder this time, sinking against her.

Sarah moved her hands around his hips, found the hem of his light brown Henley shirt, and slid underneath it, feeling his smooth, warm skin against her palms. He groaned softly against her lips and she couldn't help but grin a bit mischievously. With a giggle, she pulled a hand out from under his shirt, pinched his behind through his jeans, and shoved her door open, expertly sliding out from beneath him and gracefully climbing to her feet beside the car.

He blinked up at her in shock, looking a bit like a tousle-haired little boy with his hand caught in the cookie jar. It took only a moment before his features transformed from what-the-hell-just-happened to a mixture of being impressed and just a little turned on. The slow smile on his face was enough to make that wonderful tingle shoot through her, but instead of acknowledging it, she leaned jauntily against the door. "You getting out, Bartowski? Or do I have to start this vacation without you?"

She reveled in his happy laughter and moved away from the car, walking out of the still open garage door and stopping in the alley outside of their rental to look up at the place she would be calling home for the next five days. Apparently she had slept through the last portion of their road trip and Chuck hadn't seen fit to wake her up when they drove over the San Diego-Coronado Bridge, or even when he picked up the keys from the owner. How had she slept through that?

It didn't matter now, though. They were here. And it was a beautiful two-story. Modern, certainly, but still quaint. At least, from this angle.

"Want a tour?"

She lowered her gaze from the second story window to Chuck, who was now opening the back of the Prius and pulling their bags out. "Yeah! Have you been here before?" Sarah felt a spike of panic for a moment. Was this a family home? If it was, there were more than just a few things that could go wrong with this arrangement. What if his family showed up? What if at the end of the vacation in five days, Sarah accidentally left something behind and his mother found it and…

But Chuck was shaking his head. "Nah. But that's okay! We can tour it togedah!" he finished in a bad Jamaican accent. He paused, the bags underneath his arms as he closed the door with his backside which in turn caused Sarah to smile in fond amusement. "And then we should probably hit the town for some grub," he continued. "And you need to shop."

She shrugged and walked back into the garage, reaching over to take one of the bags off his hands, but he backed up.

"I got this. But can you grab the house keys? They're in my back right pocket. I should have gotten them out before I got the luggage." He turned around and shook his rump a little.

Giggling, she slipped her hand into his pocket, hooked her finger through the keyring, and gave him a hearty squeeze, before pulling the keys out again. Chuck jumped a little and send her a saucy wink over his shoulder.

Feeling more than a little pleased with herself, she walked to the door leading into the house and slipped the key into the lock. "We can shop tomorrow. I can get by 'til then. And I don't want us to feel rushed."

"But you were very specific before we left about how you had nothing clean to sleep in," he reminded her as she opened the door and gestured him inside before her.

She watched him carefully step over the threshold, angling his body sideways to fit both suitcases and the accompanying burlap bags of miscellaneous items through the door without bumping anything.

"Who says I can't sleep naked?"

Suddenly, the suitcases were tumbling out of his arms as he tripped on absolutely nothing at all, landing flat on his side, covered in bags and suitcases.

Sarah's heart leapt into her throat. "Oh my God! Chuck, you okay?!" She rushed to him and pushed away the suitcases, gently cupping his face and rolling him onto his back. The sudden grin on his face was encouraging, and when he started laughing, she was fully at ease about his physical condition.

"Ow!" he chuckled, allowing her to help him sit up.

She shook her head with a huff of amusement. "You didn't hit your head, did you?"

"Nope. Though my pride took quite a hit."

"Yeah, I think it's safe to say I've never had anyone react quite like that to one of my come ons. This took the cake."

He screwed his mouth up and glared. "Well, that was quite the image you put into my head. Pardon my unpreparedness."

"Well, consider this your warning. Be prepared. Because I wasn't joking. I literally will have to either wear your clothes to bed tonight or be completely naked."

He was silent for a few moments, staring at the wall behind her.

"Chuck?"

"Sorry." He shook his head and blinked a little. "I was just trying to decide which was better."

She snorted and climbed to her feet, leaning down to help him stand.

It took them a good twenty minutes to tour the house, with a quick stop in the bedroom for a frenzied make out session on top of the bed. Sarah disappointedly didn't make it much farther than second base because her stomach grumbled loudly right when Chuck pressed his lips to her belly button.

They drove further inland and ate an early dinner at a small Italian restaurant before sweeping through the grocery store on the way back to pick up odds and ends for future meals if they didn't feel like leaving the house.

And leaving the house didn't seem to be in the cards for them anytime soon, Sarah mused silently as she snuggled further into Chuck's warmth. He was lying back on one of the lounge chairs on their brick patio and she was nestled on his chest, her arms curled up between their bodies and her face pressed into his neck. A thick blanket was wrapped around both of them, sheltering them from the cool night air that came in from the beach.

It also helped that Chuck had lit the fire pit in the middle of the patio. Having a roaring fire at her back, and the sound of the ocean's waves a mere hundred or so feet away, seemed to help quite a bit as well.

"Mmmm," she hummed, nuzzling his skin with her nose and and sliding her hands around his torso to pull him even closer. His arms wound around waist and squeezed her back. "I've decided I like the beach," she drawled lazily.

His chest bounced beneath her as he chuckled shortly. "You've decided?" She could hear his smile in his tone even though she couldn't see it.

"Mmm, yep." She shrugged a little. "I dunno. It's nice."

"It is nice. I've always loved the beach, but strangely enough, never as much as I seem to be loving it right now." He gave her a little squeeze and she let out a one syllable giggle, kissing his neck in thanks.

"I feel like I've been missing out all these years. I never really went to the beach until I got assigned to your case out here."

"Why not?"

She shrugged again. "There weren't really any beaches around. Not like this, anyway."

"Oh."

His fingers began to draw a lazy pattern on her back beneath the blanket. That, coupled with the sounds of the crackling fire and the waves rolling up the beach, lulled her into a peaceful trance. Everything felt like it was exactly how it should be. Everything made sense. She was incandescently happy, and supremely comfortable. And she and Chuck fit so perfectly tangled up in this way, like the last two pieces of the puzzle slotting together seamlessly.

"Where'd you grow up?"

Sarah's eyes popped open and she inadvertently tensed. The tranquility she'd felt a moment before was obliterated and sudden nerves took its place. She bit her lip and stayed silent, hoping he would drop it if she said nothing. But then he rubbed his hand over her back and lifted his head a little from the pillow. "What? Something wrong?"

She shook her head. "No. No, of course not."

There was more silence.

"Are…you…gonna answer my question?" he asked slowly. She could feel him start to walk on eggshells a bit. His tone was tentative, a little nervous. "I guess—If you don't want to, that's okay."

She was still silent.

"It's just that—Well, I understood you not wanting to talk about that stuff when you were working for my dad and I. It was maybe dangerous and you didn't want to get too…close, I guess. I didn't know your reasoning, but I accepted it. But things are…kinda different now. Not kinda. Really different. Right?"

She nodded. "They're different."

"Yeah. They're different. You know, we're sorta dating. Not sorta. Really dating." That made Sarah smile and she snuggled even closer. "You don't have to be super secret Pinkerton agent with me anymore, Sarah Walker."

She lifted her head and propped her elbows on his chest, looking down into his eyes. She would hurt him if she asked him to back off. She knew it. Even if she asked him politely, even if she vowed to make it up to him upstairs in their bedroom. No. She'd made a promise to herself, right at that moment, that her relationship with Chuck wasn't going to be like that. She wasn't going to make love to him to try to make him feel better about the fact that his girlfriend kept things close to her chest.

"Sarah, you can trust me. All I wanna know is where you grew up." He shrugged. "For now, that is."

She smiled and gently set her lips to his chin. "I'm sorry. This is hard for me."

He just nodded, his brown eyes so understanding, and inviting too with the way the firelight danced off of them.

"I grew up in New York City."

He grinned. "I've gone and gotten me a New Yorker for a girlfriend. I like that. See? That's all I asked. And now you told me."

"I did," she giggled.

"You've got beaches there, though, right? Sorta?"

"I never went to the beach. We never did the whole vacation thing."

She could see him holding back, and she knew he was brimming with questions. It hurt a little that he felt he had to rein himself in, even when they were completely alone. There shouldn't be barriers between them, but they were there anyways—and she put them there. It was all her. And she knew it probably confused him, maybe even disappointed him a little, but he was accepting it. For now.

Sarah knew the time would come when he stopped accepting it. Sooner rather than later. And she had to prepare herself for that. Because she wasn't going to screw this up.

"Well, you're doing the whole vacation thing now. And you're doing it with a pro vacationer." His grin lit a flame in her chest that rivaled the one roaring in the fire pit a few feet away.

She leaned down and slid her arms around his shoulders, kissing him slowly but ardently, nipping his bottom lip with her teeth as she pulled away again. His eyes were heavily lidded, a dreamy, crooked smile on his lips. She moved her mouth to his ear and whispered into his ear. "At the moment, I don't seem to be doing it with anybody."

With the way Chuck carefully but speedily scrambled to his feet from the lounge chair, helping her up in the process while muttering "Go go go go go!", he seemed to have every intention of changing that.

—-

There was a soft beat coming from somewhere far off—music drifting through a thick cloud of haze, muffled but happifying…

Chuck hummed a little, his face still buried in his pillow as he unconsciously reached out a hand to feel soft linen sheets and—Wait.

He turned his face and opened his eyes, blinking in the sunlight streaming through the opened vertical blinds covering the balcony doors of their bedroom. He foolishly kept feeling the empty side of the bed, as though Sarah was actually still there, just invisible. Then he shook his head, fully awake, propping himself up and looking around the room. "Sarah?"

The tech guy smacked his lips a little and ran a hand through his hair, spying the large shopping bags Sarah had piled on the chair and table in the corner from their shopping excursion the day before. Chuck had called it The Buying Sarah Clothes Marathon—though he silently had admitted to himself that it was more of a massacre than a marathon. Sarah had bought herself quite a bit of clothing.

With a fond smile as he sat up and eyed the evidence of how they spent a good chunk of yesterday, he had to admit she'd unleashed her shopping beast. It was a new discovery, one he cherished. Sarah thoroughly enjoyed shopping, and she was damn good at it. Efficient, fast, discerning…And she really had great taste. Not that he had the best taste, but he could find himself some pretty stylin' digs if he really wanted to.

But she also bought more than she needed. He wasn't complaining.

Even when he found himself more than once in the stereotypical situation of having other boyfriends and/or husbands waiting outside of the dressing rooms, sitting on the lounge chairs while their significant others tried on everything in the store. Many of those men exchanged eye rolls, and at least two of them were watching what sounded like football on their smart phones.

Chuck had done his best not to participate in their commiseration, because he wasn't in the least bit bored. Maybe it was Ellie's influence, considering she dragged him along whenever she had to find a prom dress, or midwinter, or homecoming. It just never bothered him.

And Sarah was especially fun to shop with. He wasn't typically a vain man, but whenever she poked her head out of the dressing room and asked him to help with a button or zipper, if there were other men waiting there with him, their eyes widened and they looked at him suddenly in a new light. Not to mention, seeing Sarah in clothes he'd never seen her in before gave him an extra thrill. Maybe because a part of him realized she wanted to get things that he liked on her, too. It felt amazing.

Chuck realized now as he sat with a wide smile on his face that he was suddenly feeling a draft…Oh.

He was buck naked.

It was silly, since he was completely alone in the room, but he felt himself flush as he scanned the floor for the boxers he'd meant to sleep in. They'd maybe gotten a little carried away the night before and passed out before he could slip his boxers back on.

Glancing at the bedside clock, he realized Sarah must be on a morning jog. She told him she liked to get out before the sun got too high in the sky. Just a personal preference.

But he felt a little pouty that she hadn't woken him up to go with her. Was he too slow? They'd jogged together the morning before and he thought he'd held his own pretty well. Although, she could have slowed her pace for him. That was a little embarrassing.

If he was going to have a Pinkerton detective as his girlfriend, he better up his routine. Maybe work some weightlifting into his repertoire. Who was he kidding? He didn't even have a repertoire. He just ran a few mornings a week and sometimes did crunches if he was up to it.

As he slipped his boxers on, which he ended up finding clear across the room, he eyed a T-shirt hanging over the lip of his suitcase. Grabbing it and tugging it over his shoulders, he walked to the balcony doors and pushed the blinds all the way to the side, unlatching the door lock and sliding the door open so that he could step outside. The sun at eight-thirty in the morning was already warming a corner of the second floor balcony.

Chuck frowned curiously as he suddenly realized there was music coming from somewhere. Somewhere in their house, to be exact. But he heard it from outside, so he padded out onto the balcony, curling his toes against the cold stones beneath him and following the music.

He moved to the balcony doors that led into the second floor living area and found the room empty, though the stereo system was on. A soft bossa nova beat was coming from the speakers. As he walked further into the room, he saw that Sarah's laptop was plugged into it. Moving his finger across the mousepad, he saw that she'd put an internet music station on titled "Classic Bossa Nova".

Hmmm, a bossa nova girl.

It was cute. Imagining her picking out music to flood through their rental, and thinking that because they were at a beach, even in the off-season months, they might as well have beachy music.

But why was the music on in here if she was on a run?

He heard a clatter from downstairs.

She's not on a run.

His senses were suddenly assailed with the smell of food. He wasn't entirely sure what kind of food, but it was food. Maybe onion? A grin swept across his features as he walked through the room and onto the landing, sneaking as best he could down the stairs and tip toeing through the entry way towards the kitchen.

The music Sarah put on upstairs was coming out of a speaker installed in wall. That made perfect sense to him now. This was a newer home, built by the owners within the last few years. Of course there were kitchen speakers.

But he didn't care about the perks of a modern beach house anymore, because as he rounded the corner, he was staring at Sarah's back as she babysat whatever was in the pan her left hand held over the stove while she flipped a pancake with her right hand. But her impressive multitasking paled in comparison to the sight of her in the dark green bikini she bought the day before. All of her teasing about it aside, he hadn't helped her try on bikinis. He'd been in the store next door, picking out new sunglasses since the ones he brought snapped in half when he fell after Sarah's Sleep-Naked jibe.

A brown mesh wrap skirt was tied around her waist in a neat, flirty little knot at her hip.

Speaking of hips, hers were swaying back and forth to the Brazilian beat. He was hypnotized by the way her sides twisted, her bare shoulders shimmying slowly, but mostly those hips. Lord save him, those hips.

Sarah turned around suddenly and grasped onto the handle of the fridge. But she stopped and stared for a moment. He knew she was looking right at him, but his eyes were glued to her flat belly and the swell of her—

"Good morning, Chuck."

His eyes snapped up to her face and he wondered if there was drool on his chin or something because she looked on the verge of laughter, her eyes swimming in glee, so bright and almost a greenish tint thanks to her green bikini. Her eyes were like freaking magic…or something.

Who was he kidding? He was under some sort of spell at the moment. A deep, mesmerizing spell.

"Uh, sorry. You—What are you—Is that breakfast? I'm starved."

"Yeah, you look pretty hungry," she drawled with a smirk as she opened the fridge and bent down to grab three large eggs in one hand impressively. He kept his eyes on her face, knowing he'd already overdone the blatant ogling. Even if she was his girlfriend now, he really had to rein himself in on that front.

She really was just…flawless. It was difficult.

He inwardly scoffed at himself. There are worse things in the world than having a girlfriend with a perfect body and face.

"What's on the menu?" He stepped around her and looked at both pans.

"An egg scramble and pancakes?"

"Bisquick pancakes? Or pancakes from scratch?" He idly stirred the mixture in the bowl on the counter and dipped a finger into it before sticking it in his mouth and humming.

"From scratch?! Who do you think I am, Martha Stewart? Ain't nobody got time for that." That made him laugh as she came to stop beside him and cracked the three eggs into a smaller bowl. "Hope you don't mind a meatless breakfast. I didn't jog this morning so I feel like I don't really need to ingest a giant slab of pig fat."

He just shook his head at her. "Sarah Walker, you made me breakfast. If you made me…freakin' dirt instead of this fancy spread, I'd still be over the moon."

She giggled. "Do you usually have dirt for breakfast?"

"When I was little, yeah." She looked dubious. "But that was only when my mom made breakfast."

That made Sarah laugh harder than he had expected her to laugh and he smirked to himself, grabbing the spatula and flipping the pancakes out of the skillet and onto a plate.

She finally composed herself and poured the scrambled eggs over the onions sizzling in the pan. "Will you watch the food while I pour you some coffee?" she asked, putting her hand on his arm and leaning up to kiss his cheek.

"Aye aye, Chef Walker."

Suddenly her arms were wrapped around his waist and her front was pressed to his back so that he felt every last curve of her body. Her lips gently caressed his ear and her breath rustled his hair a bit. "Does that make you my sous chef, Chuck?"

"Ooo. Baby, I'll be whatever you want me to be," he drawled over his shoulder through puckered lips.

She laughed again and ruffled his hair with her hand before pulling away and pouring him a hot cup of coffee.

Sarah turned up the music a little on her way across the kitchen and they worked at the stove side by side. He bobbed a little to the music as he flipped a pancake sans spatula, showing off a little. He really should have been ashamed, but the upwards quirk at the edges of her lips made him think she was maybe a little impressed.

Finally, as he wiggled his behind and stepped to the side to the beat of the music, finishing off the pancakes with a flourish, he heard her giggle. When he looked over at her with a furrowed brow, she pressed her lips together innocently and raised her eyebrows, scrambling the egg and shifting the pan over the fire.

"What?" he asked.

"Nothing."

"You were laughing at me. You were laughing at my dancing, weren't you?"

"Nooo."

"Yeeees. Yes you were! I was laughing at you in the car the other day because I was enjoying watching you get into the song, but you're legit laughing at my inability to dance to this music."

"I am not! I just think you're cute!" she argued, reaching up to take two plastic plates off of the stack they bought their first day here and setting them down on the counter beside her. She divvied the egg equally into two portions, one on each plate.

"Because I can't dance to classic bossa nova. Weeell, I'll have you know I never had time for cotillion when I was a little boy. I was too busy—"

"Playing video games?" she interrupted, looking up at him and tilting her head. Again with the adorable innocent face.

"Oh!" he chuckled, poking her arm with his finger. "That's not even fair—Well, okay. I'll give you that one. I did play a lot of video games. But I was also making my own computer programs by the age of twelve, okay? Sooo…" He made a fart noise with his mouth and she laughed, lifting her shoulders in a shrug meanwhile.

"I can teach you to dance."

"I'm actually a very good dancer, a'thank you."

"I know. I've danced with you before." Her words carried a bit of extra meaning to them, he noticed as he brought the plate of pancakes to their kitchen table and set them down.

"I might not know how to waltz, but who does?"

"I do."

He stopped, the butter and syrup in his hands as he gaped at her while she put their plates down on either side of the table. "Really?"

"Yeah." She shrugged a shoulder. "It's easy."

And as he walked over to the table and set the condiments down, plopping into his seat and licking his lips in anticipation, he spotted the look on Sarah's face that meant she'd just had a brilliant idea. He wasn't sure he would like said brilliant idea. And when she spoke, he was sure he didn't like it.

"I'll teach you."

"Uh. No."

"Why not?" She sat across from him.

"Because there's no point. When am I gonna go to a fancy pantsy…gala, if you will…where I'm going to need to be able to waltz around the room. I'm not Yul Brynner."

"No, you have way too much hair for that," she winked.

"Hehhh," he mocked with an upturned lip.

"You have no choice in the matter, Chuck. I'm teaching you to waltz today."

"But there are people!" he argued.

She just laughed at him as she dug into her eggs with gusto. Impressive gusto. "So what?"

"I don't want people to see me dance!"

"Oh come on. You know none of these people. Who cares?"

"I do! I'm gonna look like a dope!"

"Oh, you really set yourself up for a really good dig but because I'm a nice girlfriend, I'm not gonna say it."

"Well, now you have to."

"I was gonna say you already look like a dope." She laughed, leaning close as he pouted.

"Fine, I'll give you that one."

"Aww, I'm teasing. You don't look like a dope. You're very dashing."

Chuck snorted and inhaled his pancakes, completely aware that he would be learning to waltz at some point during the day, no matter what arguments he came up with. Because in the end, learning to dance with Sarah Walker as his instructor could only be equally as exhilarating as learning aikido had been. And that sounded to him like a win-win situation, whether strangers thought he looked foolish or not.

—-

Sarah took her boyfriend's fear of embarrassment to heart during breakfast, even if outwardly she'd teased him about it. He was right that a few people seemed to have settled on their beach throughout the day and because she'd meant to teach him where there was plenty of room, the beach had to be their sandy dance floor.

Instead of subjecting him to having on-lookers, she waited for sunset, when they would be the only two people on the beach. She figured Chuck would learn better if they were alone anyways, when he wasn't looking over his shoulder to see if people were sneering or laughing.

Not that anyone really would do that.

But he agreed to do this for her, so she would return the favor and make him feel comfortable.

Speaking of comfortable, she was at this moment standing in the cool sand barefoot, with the dwindling light from the sun that had already slipped behind the shimmering horizon at her back, still wearing just her bikini.

Chuck was trotting out from their house towards her, wearing his zip up sweatshirt over his T-shirt and his navy blue swim trunks. As he neared, she mused on how different this trip had turned out so far from what she'd had in her mind.

It was better, certainly.

But more than that, it was exactly what she had needed. At Chuck's condo, she had been happy and contented, reveling in the mostly uninterrupted time she was finally getting to spend with her boyfriend. But there was also the chance that there could be interruptions—and what was more, there was the chance someone could show up at Chuck's door. Like Morgan or his family. While she hadn't let it mar the experience of being with Chuck while they were there, that tiny thread of What If made her a little fidgety.

Now that they were here, somewhere no one else knew about but them, she was surprised by how easy it had been to shuck her worry and nerves. To let her walls crumble, the way they had in Paris. But this was different even from Paris. Here, they were blissfully alone, cut off from the world, able to do whatever they wanted, however they wanted, be as loud and crazy as they wanted—and to be as goofy as they wanted.

She'd never thought of herself as goofy. But so far, in the last few days they'd been here on Coronado, she was aware of how unbelievably giddy she was. So much so that Chuck's innate goofiness had somehow rubbed off on her. They teased and prodded and laughed, they'd wrestled in the waves earlier on in the day and she'd even tackled Chuck to the sea floor after he splashed her.

Everything just felt safe and she felt…pure. There was no other way to describe it. But she'd somehow left all of her baggage at home. It was just her—the real her—and Chuck.

Feeling warm all of a sudden, she grinned at him as he held out a sweatshirt for her. "Here. I brought my extra sweatshirt because you're only in your bikini. And I realize you're from Chicago, baby, but once this breeze picks up, you're gonna be thanking me."

Sarah smiled up at him and pulled his sweatshirt on over her bikini. It was a little big, but it was so comfy on her bare skin and she almost purred a little at how warm it was. "I'm already thanking you," she murmured, putting a hand on his chest and going up on her tip toes to kiss him softly. "Thank you."

"Welcome." He shrugged. "And hey, if you're cold, you might get distracted from the lesson, and to teach me how to waltz, you're gonna need to have all your attention…" He pointed to himself with his thumbs and tilted his head. "…right here. On moi."

With a giggle, she stepped back into position and raised her hands. "Alright, Chuck. Shall we begin?"

"We shall."

"Feet together." He complied. "Now, I want you to imagine there's a box under your feet. Actually!" She drew a box in the sand with her foot.

"Look at that! A box!" he exclaimed.

She laughed. "Okay, stand right here." She point to the closest corner to her with her toe and he moved there, keeping his feet together. "Good."

They spent a few minutes side by side, standing on their respective boxes as she showed him the basic box step. "Now, remember, on the two count, your foot doesn't stop. It swings past this corner and stops on the next one. And three is stepping back together with your other foot. Got it?"

"Solid." He confidently moved around the box, swinging his foot around on two and stepping together on three.

"See? You're a professional."

"I know. I can successfully solo-waltz, now." He stopped and sent her a cheeky grin over his shoulder, receiving a slap on his backside for that.

"Stop being sassy. Now that you've got that down, I'll show you how to do it with a woman in your arms."

"See, that's the part I'm excited about."

He was being incredibly flirty now that the moonlight had become their only source of light, and the comforting sound of the waves washing up on the shore was their music. "Alright, Yul. Come on."

Just as she thought might happen, as they attempted to dance together, he lost all concentration and stepped wrong and even stepped on her foot, nearly falling backwards and taking her with him.

She tried to get him to count out loud, but even that didn't work, and his misstep actually ending with Sarah ending up on her back in the sand, Chuck falling on top of her and just barely managing to catch himself with his elbows on either side of her body to keep from crushing her outright. "Sorry," he whispered, wincing sheepishly. "You okay?"

"I'm fine," she giggled, patting his cheek with a sandy hand. "Maybe we should try closer to the water where the sand is packed a little harder."

"Or we can quit because I'm an embarrassment to my entire sex," he added, climbing off of her and easily hoisting her to her feet in an impressive feat of strength.

"You are not. We've been at this for less than an hour, Chuck. What, do you think you'll become Fred Astaire after an hour of waltz lessons from an unlicensed instructor?"

"That'd be nice."

"It would be, but it's unrealistic. Come on." She reached out and squeezed his arm, walking past him to the harder sand.

They continued their lessons and he started to get the hang of it, but the longer they spend, the more the cool breeze picked up, spraying them with a bit of ocean mist each time a wave crashed nearby, the closer their bodies gravitated, until they were pressed right up against each other.

Sarah finally looked up at him as he squeezed her waist with his warm hand and nuzzled her nose. "You're getting pretty good at this, ya know," she praised, her voice soft. She wondered if he'd heard her over the crashing wave when he didn't respond at first.

But then he muttered, "Thanks."

This wasn't aikido, with the furious reflexive movements and wrapping arms around waists, landing on top of each other, with quick jabs and panting breaths. She could still feel the thrill of those lessons when she thought back to those times in the gym at Bartowski Electronics. The way they worked off of each other and the heated looks. The way they were so blatantly attracted to each other, that attraction feeding off of adrenaline and competition.

But there was still something incredibly exhilarating about something as graceful as the waltz, working together as they moved across the sand, and the way her blood pumped faster in her veins when the biting cold water crawled over their feet when they stopped paying attention and drifted too close to the sea.

She suddenly realized that they'd stopped dancing and were standing still, pressed together, her head against his chest as he let go of her hand and slid his arms around her. She followed suit and they just stayed there together, listening to the waves, the breeze at their backs.

"I'm kinda cold," she finally breathed, pulling back. "You wanna go inside now? We can continue our lesson in the living room. Move some furniture."

"Is that a euphemism for sex, Detective Walker? Moving furniture? Because I'm just gonna tell you right now, if we go inside, it isn't the waltz that will be happening."

Even with the way his words made her chuckle, she felt her heart rate pick up and a warmth she was now quite familiar with pooled in her middle. "Is that so?"

"Most assuredly so."

Embracing the heated atmosphere around them at the moment, along with the general atmosphere of giddiness that they'd been enjoying throughout the trip, Sarah gave him no warning as she leapt up and wrapped her legs around his waist.

He caught her without missing a step and they kissed passionately, their hair ruffled by the gust of sea breeze that blew past them.

"Let's go inside, then," she whispered against his lips.

XOXOXOXOXOXO

Author's Note: GOD THEY'RE SO MUSHY AND SAPPY AND DELIGHTFUL IN THIS CHAPTER. Keep reading! Keep reviewing! Thanks, everyone! - SC