Castle in the Air

By Steampunk . Chuckster

Summary: Sarah has opened her dream bookstore just before the holiday season, but when a corporate monopoly announces their reduced-price brick-and-mortar is going in a block away, she must band together with her fellow small businesses to fight for their lives, even if it means getting past a slew of bad first impressions to work with Chuck, the owner of the comic book shop next door. AU Charah.

A/N: I really appreciate the private messages and reviews! Hope you folks enjoy this chapter. :)

Disclaimer: I don't own Chuck or its characters, and any similarities in this fic to any corporate entities are just coincidence... shh.


She'd lost feeling in her fingers, maybe her whole hand.

And that was where she looked when she finally blinked her eyes open again, her vision a little blurred at first from how tightly she'd pressed them closed when the most intense pleasure she'd felt…maybe ever?…rocketed through her.

Her hand was gripping onto the edge of the shelf where she kept advanced reader copies the publishers sent her, up above her head, a desperate way to hold on when it felt like everything was too much for her to even handle. But his hand had draped over hers on the shelf, and he was clinging just as tightly. The fingers of both of their hands were painted white from how hard they were gripping.

She lowered her head, and she looked right into those golden-brown eyes of his, and even in the lighting back here which was dimmer than out in the storefront, she saw the purple swirling there.

The want, the need…the intensity.

And then she saw the look change, and she'd never related to anyone else so hard in her life.

What in the fuck just happened?

He was so gentle with her, and she had to bite her lip to keep from making a sound as she was finally set on her feet, unwinding her bare legs from around his hips that were deceptively powerful for how slim and lanky he was.

Chuck still had his hands on her, on her hips, her waist, his fingers tucked under her shirt. And their gaze was still fastened together, as if neither of them could look away.

Nothing like this had ever happened to her before. No one had ever done that before. She'd never wanted anyone to do it before.

She hadn't wanted this with anyone the way she'd been so God damn adamant just now, with him.

Like she was possessed. And then she knew she wasn't possessed. Not by anything or anyone. She was fully herself, taking exactly what she'd wanted from someone who'd absolutely wanted back. There was no doubting that anymore.

Holy shit, the way he held onto her, his voice, the way he'd whimpered in her ear, against her neck, her throat, into her hair…

Suddenly she heard the jingling of bells, and she wondered for a split second if it was some remaining weird ear ringing thing that happened when the finish was that good

Wait.

No.

Fuck.

Chuck stepped away as she whispered a soft curse, and she stooped to pick up her clothes, yanking them on with a fury.

"…Hello? Are you still open?"

"Y-Yes!" she called out to the front, hearing how shaky her voice was. Shit. Oh God.

She fastened the button of her pants in record time, yanked at her shirt to straighten it, fixed her hoodie, and pushed her hair out of her face, shaking out her hands and trying to appear at least somewhat normal as she rushed out from the back to her front counter, smiling widely at the customer. She vaguely remembered her from over a week ago.

Maybe.

"Hi. Sorry. You…are open, right?"

Sarah glanced at the clock. It was six-forty-five. "No. No, I close at six. I was just doing the closing stuff, counting the drawer, reorders... I'm sorry. I didn't…" She gestured to the door, feeling absolutely fucking crazy and stupid and so many things at once. And God, her whole body was still tingling and buzzing at the same time. Everything was sparking, alive, and oh so sensitive.

She grabbed onto the edge of the counter to steady herself. "I didn't lock the door. I'm so sorry. That's totally my fault."

"Oh! No, I'm sorry! I should've read the sign on the door. I'm sure you have your hours posted. I'll come pick up my book later." She waved her hand through the air.

"No, wait. What's your last name again? You're just picking up a book, I can give it to you. That's no problem. I closed up the register but I can hand you a book. I'm not making you come back again." She made her customers prepay for their books because she hadn't built up any trust with any of them quite yet and she was really glad for that now.

"Oh. Gosh, thanks. I came all the way out here after work. I appreciate that. It's Goldman."

"Goldman…" Sarah scanned for the Gs behind her counter, stooped to grab the book, and came back to the counter, sliding the order slip out of it, sticking one of her Castle in the Air bookmarks inside and handing it over. This lady came forty-five minutes after closing, and even though she offered to come back when the store was open and was nice about it, Sarah decided she wasn't giving her a bag. She needed to just get her out of here.

"Thanks so much!"

"You're welcome. Have a nice night."

"I'll remember six o'clock next time!"

"Okay. Thanks." She followed Ms. Goldman to the door, waved as she left, and shut it, locking it, letting out a rough breath.

She went back to the counter, paused, pressed her hand to her chest, took another very deep breath to try to compose herself, wondering what in the hell she was even supposed to say in this moment…

What do you say to the man who just pinned you to your bookshelves in the back room of your store and sent you into another stratosphere with… Oh God, they'd really just done that.

She'd just had an extremely intense, jaw-dropping, mind-blowing quickie in the backroom of her bookstore with the man who owned the comic book shop next door.

What were either of them supposed to say after something like this?

Sarah realized she was taking a weirdly long time coming back, so she finally pushed through the doorway and stopped just inside.

Chuck had fixed his boxers and jeans, picking up his jacket from the floor and shrugging it back on. And he was now sitting in his chair again. Only he was hunched forward, his hands braced on his thighs just above his knees, and the look on his face was utterly shell-shocked.

Yeah.

She absolutely related. Hard.

Sarah could hear him gulp from four feet away.

"I forgot to lock the door," Sarah blurted. "…Stupid," she added in a weak voice, lifting her hand just as weakly.

"Oh. I've…done that before. She…was…picking up a book, huh?" he asked, his voice scratchy. He seemed to still be having a hard time catching his breath.

"Yes. Yeah. Easy enough. Just…handed it to her and she was on her merry way."

"You have 'em prepay. Smart." Chuck nodded. Then he looked up at her, meeting her eyes again. For a moment, she thought everything would pour out of him. She'd have to figure out what to say, how to address the sex they'd just very much had right here against the shelves.

God damn it, it was really good, too. She was going to hell. A hell reserved for bookstore owners who did this in their back rooms. Was that a form of desecration? The Church of Books would send her to hell.

She didn't know. Shit.

Sarah let herself tilt back to lean against the doorframe, the silence so incredibly uncomfortable and she had no idea what to say to make it all stop. Only, she still felt his hands on her, the way he hoisted her up and held her as he made her feel things she'd genuinely never felt before.

His tongue darted out to wet his lips and she thought she would die from the memory of what he'd done with that tongue, and those lips. Her neck still tingled with the whisper of his kiss against her skin…

"There's lots to do to set up for tomorrow. In the morning. I should probably trek home and…" he said then, pushing himself up to stand. He swayed just slightly, and his fingers braced him against the table so subtly. He nearly pulled off hiding it from her.

He had the gall to be this cute right now? Fuck him.

…Oh God… She had.

"Yes!" she exclaimed. "So…so much to do. Yep."

"Yeah. For sure. Um…I should get…going."

"Right. Me, too." That was probably a really good idea.

What the fuck?

Sarah's legs betrayed her, unable to move as he made his way towards the doorway into the storefront, and he had to slide through past her, sideways, his jacket brushing against her hoodie as he went, his eyes flashing as they met hers.

His hair was all over the place. And she knew her fingers had done that, when she'd needed something to hold onto, before she found the shelf behind her, above her head.

She blinked once, then turned to rush after him, following him to Castle in the Air's front door. She reached around him, unlocking it for him.

He grabbed the door and pulled it open as she stepped back. And then, as if his polite upbringing couldn't help reminding him to be…well, who he was… he turned and eyed her, shifting his body to face her better.

She saw how red his face was. A blush.

And she knew she was blushing too.

"Thanks."

He must've realized that sounded a certain way, which…oh God, please no, Chuck. Why couldn't he just let it go?

"Not—I don't mean—For helping me, for tag-teaming. I-I mean, tag-teaming setting up this festival. The way you've been with me through it all, hammering it all out…"

Oh, Christ. Chuck.

"Okay, g'night!" he squeaked, and he ducked out with an awkward wave, misery on his face as he spun away from her and rushed to the parking lot. She shut the door, locking it, and watched as he turned to glance at her over his shoulder.

She wasn't sure what she saw on his face that time. But it made her heart race. And she had no idea what he'd seen on her face, still pressed against the window of her front door, fingers clasping the lock between them.

When he turned back to head for his car, she reached up, yanked the blinds down, and literally ran to the break room again. When she got there, she crawled down onto the dusty floor, splayed out on her back, and she blinked up at the ceiling.

A laugh unlike any other sound she'd ever made before erupted from her lips. No, from her chest. Deeper than that, even: from her heart.

And she pushed both of her hands through her hair, just letting it all out. And when it stopped, it was sudden, the light leaving her face as she stared at the ceiling in shock.

"Oh. Oh, fuck."

}o{

There are those big discoveries that have the ability to completely change people's lives: like how to properly strain noodles into the sink without spilling pasta everywhere, hacks to help figure out whether to use affect or effect in a sentence, seatbelts…

Chuck had just made a discovery that had significantly less life-changing implications but felt important in the moment.

Namely, that covering his entire head with a pillow and shutting out the world physically wasn't doing a fucking thing to stop him from thinking about what happened in the break room of Sarah Walker's bookstore.

In fact, he hadn't been able to stop thinking about it. That had been hours ago. The sun was starting to rise. He'd been tossing and turning in his bed, and even the calming sound of the waves outside of his house weren't effective at pushing it out of his head and lulling him to sleep.

He was obsessing, but also, nobody could really blame him for obsessing.

Everything that Chuck had done, she'd done back, and at times with even more intensity, even more desperation. He'd felt it, he'd heard it in her voice. The way she'd twisted her fingers in his hair, holding on for dear life.

She'd wanted everything he'd wanted.

And that still had him feeling so…unbalanced, so out of sorts, so…confused.

Chuck finally grabbed the pillow and yanked it off of his head, pushing himself to sit up. He let out a frustrated growl and raked his fingers through his hair.

They were like two Formula One race cars zooming towards one another, and the impact last night had created a…he didn't know. A sonic boom? Basically. The wheels had come off of his valiant effort to try to ignore his crush he had on her. And then the thing had blown up.

He covered his face and groaned this time. He had to be at the shopping center in just a few short hours if he wanted to have time to get everything ready for festival goers and shoppers. Sleep wasn't going to happen. The rest of the day would be him barely getting by on just fumes. Nothing but fumes.

Worse than that, what did he even say to Sarah Walker when he saw her later this morning? They were going to have to see each other, talk to each other, and get through this day hand in hand. So to speak. He wasn't sure actually having their hands touch in any way, shape, or form was a good idea today.

Touching seemed to be something of a…trigger…for them.

At least he wasn't alone.

Chuck climbed out of bed, shuffled to his bathroom, turned the shower on to a hotter temperature than he normally liked it, stripped, and stepped into the steaming spray.

And then he stood underneath it, letting it beat down onto his head, half-drowning in the torrential downpour over his face.

Because his brain was a tyrant more often than not, Chuck thought of the night before. Again.

He thought about the escalation he had been too in the moment to notice then, the building from warmth to heat, the way she slid her hand over his and squeezed, her fingers warm, her grip tender and adamant, the way they both slipped into the adrenalized place of passionately talking about their respective passions, and the place where those two things met: the impact storytelling can have on a person.

He saw the same blaze of passion in her eyes that he felt when he first wanted to open Ashcan Comics. The impact comics had on him, the way they freaking saved him, possibly saved his mental health but also his life in general. She seemed to understand it, and in a deeper way than he'd been prepared for, with the same zeal and clarity of purpose he'd been trying to convey to people for years.

It didn't matter that she was talking about books without pictures and not comic books.

Not only did she understand, not only did she get what he was talking about, she felt it about her own medium. Maybe she'd been trying to describe it to other people for years, too.

The force of that shared passion had shoved them at one another, and he was absolutely certain now, standing in his shower with the water blasting him in the head, that nothing could have stopped either of them from that point onward.

Chuck was sure nothing had ever clicked so steadily and securely into place like that before. Not ever in his life. He'd never clicked with another person like that before.

How would they proceed now? He had no fucking idea. The aftermath had been rushed, awkward, tense… What would they have said to one another if that customer hadn't walked in, if Sarah had locked the front door and turned off the front lights? What words even existed that would properly fill the space when something that explosive happened between two people?

He'd never even imagined in the depths of his creative brain, in moments when he was very alone and unable to stop thoughts of things like that, making love to a woman in the back room of a store. And to have it be like that… everything firing on all cylinders, both of them one hundred percent diving in headfirst, not coming up for air until it was over.

She'd grabbed him. He went for her, but she caught hold of him and literally yanked him in. Hard. He'd kind of felt his teeth clack against hers she'd pulled him so roughly.

Being wanted like that by anyone was a drug in and of itself, but to be wanted like that by a woman like Sarah Walker? Brilliantly intelligent, hardworking, kind, witty, thoughtful, funny even though she didn't think that about herself, and of course, easily the most stunningly gorgeous person he'd ever seen in his life? To be wanted that much by a woman like Sarah Walker was a miracle.

He wasn't fucking around with this, he decided.

No playing games. He needed to chill a little bit, he knew. He couldn't run up to her, grab her, kiss her, and profess his undying love in front of the entire festival.

But he wasn't allowing last night's insanely tense awkwardness and inability to admit, even wordlessly, that something kind of intense—okay, very intense—had happened between them melt into today's events.

That didn't necessarily mean taking her aside and asking her what she wanted from this, from him. He didn't need that. She didn't have to say anything, neither did he.

He just wanted to feel that both of them were in a place of acknowledging it had happened. And he hoped there weren't any regrets.

God damn, he didn't regret it. Not a bit of it.

Last night had single-handedly improved his outlook on life tenfold. He didn't know what it was gonna mean for them, for their working relationship, the fact that they were business neighbors.

But it didn't matter to him right now.

Nothing would make him regret what he realized now with twelve hours of separation and almost no sleep was the culmination of a few months of learning about one another, long conversations about their stores, the festival, fighting the behemoth Cadabra, teasing and even flirting. The way even the slightest touch, her fingers brushing his as she passed him books, made everything in him stop. And then there was that close moment in the back of the truck when they were unloading wooden displays for the festival, how molten lava spilled through him. It had all been building, strengthening, even intensifying from that first lunch when she walked away from him with that slick I wouldn't get into a fight with me if I were you parting line.

He should've known then that things weren't going to go the way he'd been prepared for them to go.

Nothing would have prepared him for last night though.

And still, no God damn regrets. Not one.

Even if she did have regrets.

Chuck supposed he should figure it out if she did, before he went too far down any roads lest he get hurt. …More hurt. At this point, any regret from Sarah after last night would definitely hurt. He wasn't going to pretend it wouldn't.

Shit.

The euphoria was wearing off now that he was thinking about the possibility that she wasn't exactly hyped about what had happened last night, even if she'd gone into it with as much zeal as he had.

People did stuff with a lot of zeal and then regretted it later all the time, didn't they?

He was worried by the time he got out of his shower, dried off, fixed his hair, and tugged on his clothes for the day. They'd be out there from the early morning until late at night, and he knew it was going to hit somewhere in the low-fifties, so he was layering, damn it, and what if Sarah regretted last night? How did he handle that? How did that affect the rest of their friendship?

They were friends, right? She at least was on the same page there…?

Oh God.

}o{

She turned at the sound of the disgruntled groan at her shoulder. Casey was staring towards the festival main entrance near the shopping center management offices. She followed his gaze as he growled, "Nothing's more annoying than people who show up to things early."

Sarah laughed. "I wouldn't normally disagree with you on that, Casey, but this time, I'm just happy someone's here."

The landlord seemed to assent with raised eyebrows and a tilt of his head. "Guess that's a good point."

"We need as many people to pile in here as we can fit. Whether they come early or late, I'm glad they're here," she added, finishing tying off the festive bow around the trunk of the thick tree. She took the scissors from him, cut the rest of the ribbon, and handed both the scissors and roll of ribbon back to him, stepping away from the tree and surveying her work. "And the whole point of this is to make our community feel like this is the place they wanna be, Casey, so you better act like you're glad they're here, too."

He rolled his eyes. "Thanks for the lecture, grandma," he groused, making her laugh. "I'm very friendly."

"Oh, are you?"

"Like a cactus." Sarah turned as Martha waltzed in, looking like a million bucks in a brown leather trench coat and all black underneath, sunglasses over her eyes and her braids pulled up in a bun at the top of her head. She smirked as Sarah laughed at her quip, and she moved in close to squeeze Sarah's shoulder and kiss her cheek. "Mornin', hun. Cute bows. You do all these?"

"Yep. I, uh…couldn't sleep very well. Probably too high-strung about today," Sarah lied. She could pretend she was too high-strung about the festival to sleep but the festival hadn't been what was roaring through her brain all night, keeping her from falling asleep. It had definitely been a certain comics shop owner, a certain ARC shelf in the back room of her bookstore, and what he'd done to her against it. Actually, what they'd done to each other, since she was one-hundred-percent active in what had occurred between them.

She'd dealt with highly important questions such as: How was his mouth so soft? It was impossible for lips to be that damn soft. What kind of a fucking person was he, destroying her with lips that soft? Did he cradle her face with his large hand, his long fingers, with that much need, but also with an overwhelming gentleness, on purpose? Had he practiced that until he'd perfected it? Did he know he was driving her crazy with five or six different things he was doing at once? Was it normal for someone to be that good at multitasking, specifically a man? How had she managed to find a whole clown car's worth of dudes that absolutely could not do that for her whole dating life since she was sixteen? Maybe it was just him?

And finally, the most important question: what the fuck was she supposed to say to him when he showed up to the shopping center this morning?

She went through five million different possibilities and all of them were tossed in the proverbial garbage can.

"…Sarah."

The bookstore owner spun, looking at the record store owner. "Hm? Sorry. The whole…no sleep thing." She sent her a wan, tired look.

"Poor thing. C'mon. Lemme get you a coffee."

"Oh." She looked around at the last few trees she hadn't hit yet. "I still have to—"

"Step. Away. From. The trees, girl. Let's go get coffee." Martha took her arm. "If Casey can't figure out how to tie the bows, we'll tackle 'em together when we get back. Coffee first, or you'll never survive today with no sleep."

Sarah groaned. "Okay, you got me."

They moved away, Martha tucking her arm in with Sarah's.

"What, I'm supposed to just hold down the fort while you two're lollygagging?!" Casey called after them.

"Basically," the MegaJamz owner nonchalantly said over her shoulder.

Sarah snickered, admittedly glad the other woman had tugged her away. "Thank you. Not that he isn't basically the sweetest Care Bear on Earth," she drawled sarcastically, making Martha laugh, "but he has a way of bringing the party down."

"Who, John? Nnnnnoooooo," the record store owner said with even more sarcasm. They laughed together. "What time'd you get here?"

"A little after seven."

"GIRL!" Sarah shrugged. "Oh my God, you're crazy. I have to get up early because I made the decision to have a God damn kid," Martha droned, rolling her eyes teasingly and making Sarah giggle, "But you are childless. You have the ability to lie in bed as late as you want to!"

Letting out a rough breath, she shook her head. "I was getting all riled up and I just wanted to be here, getting things going, you know? And then I was in the storage space with the gift baskets and I saw all the red and green and gold ribbon… I thought why not make the trees look festive?"

"Nobody thought about the trees!" Martha called up to the gods, shaking her fist into the heavens. "But hey, you and Chuck have been a top notch tag team through the last couple of weeks, getting this all planned. Impressive the way you went this way," she cut her free hand across in front of them, "and then Chuck went that way." This time she pulled her hand back in the other direction. "Covered all the bases. Expert teamwork."

"Yeah, he was…great."

Really? That was the best she could do. It was just that she still had the visceral memory of how his body had felt pinning hers to those shelves and her mouth really couldn't manage to say much more than what she'd just said.

"Today's gonna kick ass, though. I can feel it. When we pulled up, Jamal lost his mind seeing those game booths. Telling you right now, when they come back later after his soccer game, he is not gonna quit until he wins that Whoopie cushion." She rolled her eyes. "Just like his dad."

Sarah laughed. "Boys."

"You know it. Though I will not lie, when those idiots play with the Whoopie cushion he's already got, it's actually pretty funny." They smirked at one another. "Nah, I've got this gut feeling. Our little festival is gonna change things."

The bookstore owner glanced at the woman next to her, smiling. "You sound like Chuck."

When they got to the door of the indie coffee shop, Sarah rushed to open the door for the other woman, earning a grateful smile, and she followed her inside. Martha turned over her shoulder as they stopped at the back of the small line. "I could do worse. He's a little love, with his head of thick curls and that big heart of his." Sarah smiled down at her feet. "Anyway, how are things?"

Sarah turned wide blue eyes on Martha. "With Chuck?"

So many things spilled through her existence at once, one of them being outright fear.

Martha gave her a confused look. "I don't see that cutie here. Why would I ask about him? I mean with you, silly."

Relief coursed through her and she played it off with a breathy chuckle, shaking her head and thunking herself in the temple with the palm of her hand. "The sleep thing. Um, no, I'm good. I'm tired, but I'm good. Mostly nothing to report. Nothing new anyway." Another complete lie. There was so much to tell. "I don't have much time for anything besides the bookstore and this festival."

"You gotta get outta here some days, Sarah. Live a little. Use your day off tomorrow to go someplace and just enjoy. Take up a hobby and meet people. Chuck's a good dude, but I'm sure you'd like to do more than just stare at his face and those little maps he has in his festival binder." She laughed. "He showed me that for the first time, and I gave him a hug. Typical. A binder."

"It was kind of cute, wasn't it? And there's no rhyme or reason to it. Like, I have no idea what order he has things in, but I guess it makes sense to his own brain. If I wanted to look for something in there, I'd have no idea where to start. There are no tabs. There's no color coding." She found herself smiling fondly.

"Such a nerrrrd."

"The biggest one ever."

But then they stepped up to order, and Sarah didn't fight Martha too much when she insisted on paying for her coffee. As they moved off to the side, Sarah heard the bell on the door behind her, the quiet tinkle over the sound of Tchaikovsky's Nutrcracker ballet that was playing in the café. She distractedly glanced back at the person who'd walked in and then turned back to wait for her coffee—only to do a double-take when she realized Chuck had just walked into this coffee shop.

The Chuck Bartowski.

The man she'd been hoping she'd have time to prepare for before she ended up seeing him this morning. Maybe she'd have something prepared, some words that would properly address what had happened thirteen hours ago? Did she have words for that? Were there words for it? Did they even exist in any language, let alone in hers?

"Heyyyy! There he is! Man of the hour! We were just talking about you, Chuck!"

Oh God damn it, Martha didn't just say that…

He gave them a bit of a deer in the headlights look, and his eyes fastened on Sarah. Immediately, she saw light in his face, a smile growing on his lips. And it was so natural, so unpracticed, so genuine, as if he was actually glad to see her in spite of how awkward their parting had been once they'd relinquished one another, that she almost melted into the floor.

So that was why last night had happened.

He was who he was.

And he made her feel the way he made her feel.

Sarah pulled her lips between her teeth and gave him a closed-mouth smile.

"Hey," he breathed, rushing over. "Hey, you two. G'morning." His smile got bigger as he leaned into Martha for a one-armed hug. Then he let go of her and turned to Sarah, looking as if he was close to saying something to her in particular—what, she had no idea—but then what Martha said when he first arrived must've struck him because he froze, eyes wide. "You were talking about me?"

God damn it, he looked right at her. She felt heat rise from her thick leather bomber jacket she was wearing.

"Yeah, you and that goofy binder," Martha filled in.

He tilted his head, then shifted one of the straps of his old-school Jansport maroon backpack he was wearing off of one shoulder to bring the backpack around to the front and shake it at them. "You meeeeean…this goofy binder? Same binder that's gonna make sure today goes silky smooth like buttah?" he finished in a New Jersey accent.

Sarah giggled. She couldn't help it. His goldish brown eyes sparkled a little in her direction as he shrugged the backpack onto his shoulder again. How dare he act so pleased that he'd made her giggle?

How was he being so chill and cute this morning?

Was he not also extremely bogged down by thoughts of last night and how the hell to deal with it? Had he actually slept after that? How?!

He waved at the barista when he caught her eye. "Can you whip up my usual, Angelina?"

"On it, hermano!"

He skipped over to the cashier, went into his pants pocket, and pulled out that wallet of his. She'd seen it a handful of times now, and a voice in her reminded her that last night, she had sex with an adult man who not only owned a Superman wallet, he actually used it daily, too. It was, like…his everyday wallet. And somehow, it didn't bother her. A lot of things about last night needed to be dealt with, but she wasn't nearly as ashamed of his little wallet as she might've been, say…eight years ago.

Sarah witnessed him handing a twenty dollar bill to the barista.

He lowered his voice but she still heard him: "Stick the change in your tip jar, okay?"

"Thank you. As usual."

"No, thank you." And he wandered back to the other two shop owners, shoving his Superman wallet back in his pants pocket. "So we're all on an early morning coffee trip, huh?"

"Mhm, this one over here arrived at seven."

"Seven?" Chuck asked, spinning towards her. "Aw crap, really? You should've… I-I mean, if I knew you'd be here so early, I would've shown up to help. I could'a skipped that shower I took and come straight here."

Martha cut in before she could respond. "Listen, I live in a house of boys. Never ever skip that shower. I'm serious."

Sarah and Chuck laughed and he held up his hands in surrender. "Duly noted."

Sarah's drink was called and she walked over to snag it, thanking the barista, and Martha's was called as she walked back, leaving her standing there with her coffee right in front of him, just the two of them. And damn it, Martha was popping the lid off of her drink to put sugar or something inside of it which kept them both standing there in an awkward silence, not meeting one another's eyes.

"What'd you get?" Chuck asked, his voice a little breathy, she noticed.

Sarah swung her gaze up to his and gave him a small smile, lifting her coffee between them just slightly. "I'm boring. It's just a strong coffee with some cream, a little sugar, lots of foam on top."

"That isn't boring at all. It's classy, is what it is. Simple and classy."

"Classy?" she asked with a tilt of her head, amused.

"The foam makes it classy."

She giggled and he gave her that pleased look again that made her heart do stupid crap, and Martha finally appeared at her side.

"If you two don't wanna wait for me, it's all good. I'll catch up with ya at the shopping center," he said, and Sarah almost accepted the offer but Martha cut in.

"Nonsense, we'll wait."

Well.

So they were waiting.

Which meant a nice jaunt back to the Victoria Shopping Center with the man she'd had an intensely satisfying, frankly mind-blowing, quickie with against the shelves in the back room of her bookstore last night.

Sarah took a deep, subtle breath and let it out slowly, forcing a permanent small smile onto her mouth as they waited for Chuck's coffee.

Thankfully Chuck and Martha took up the conversation.

"…But why wouldn't you play a polka version of 'Baby, It's Cold Outside'?" Chuck was asking. Sarah sent him a look as Martha smacked his shoulder.

"You dumbass. Do we want people to come back to our shopping center ever again?"

"That would make me come back. Every day. I'd be like, 'Oh my God, what was that polka version of 'Baby, It's Cold Outside?' that cool DJ was playing at the festival? I need it on vinyl."

Martha cracked up. "No."

"Okay, if not that, you're definitely playing Jethro Tull's Christmas album from start to finish with no interruptions, yeah?"

"No! What the fuck?"

"The flute alone." He mimicked holding a flute and began to make terrible flute sounds. "Myeh myeehhh Jesus Chriii-iiiist," he sang, tapping his feet.

Martha and Sarah were both doubled over laughing, hanging onto each other as he kept going.

His name was called and he finally stopped, sending them a cheesy grin and dashing off to get his coffee.

"Damn, he's on somethin' today. Wish I ate whatever he ate this morning. Shit," Martha said, wiping tears from her eyes.

Sarah kept her mouth shut.

"…Unless he's just showing off, which wouldn't surprise me."

Sarah sent Martha a look and the woman smirked a bit. Sarah especially kept her mouth shut after that crack.

Chuck hurried back to them then and stopped, glancing between the two women, Sarah with her stricken look and Martha with her deep smirk. "…What?"

"We've got work to do," Sarah said. "C'mon." She led the way, shutting her eyes for a moment, wincing, as she pushed the door open, feeling a little bit mocked by the cute little Christmas bell on the café door.

But as they walked down the sidewalk, Sarah found herself sandwiched between Chuck and Martha, and thankfully, Chuck kept up his shtick talking about the Christmas music she'd be playing during the festival, or rather the music she absolutely was not playing.

"But seriously, if you put on the Muppets Christmas album that they did with John Denver, millennials at the festival will absolutely lose their minds."

"No!" she barked, reaching around Sarah to shove at Chuck's shoulder. "Jamal's been playing that on repeat at our house and if I never hear that album again… God damn, I used to like the Muppets."

"I hear having kids kills a lot of things like that. Luce at the comics shop always talks about her daughter destroying Labyrinth for her by watching it three times a day one summer when she was off from school," Chuck said. "The Ventures do a killer Christmas album, and hey, look, we're right by the beach. On that note, the Beach Boys, too."

"You're getting slightly better. But I dunno. What do you think, Sarah? Ventures Christmas album? A bit too…off-beat." Martha was looking right at her, sipping her coffee.

Moment of truth.

She never had told Martha the record store owner and awesome DJ who knew everything there was to know about music…that she didn't know jack-squat about music. She'd played violin for a second in middle and high school, and she'd been only okay at it. "I, um…don't know the Ventures."

Sarah winced, ready for Chuck to tell Martha what she'd said to him out on the bench all those weeks ago, that music wasn't really a priority, that she knew nothing about any of it.

But he said nothing at all.

And Martha slid in nonchalantly with, "They're a surf rock band from the 'sixties, kinda swung into the 'seventies too. Most of the classic surf rock songs you've heard in TV shows and movies, they did it first. 'Walk, Don't Run'…"

"Hawaii Five-O!" Chuck exclaimed. "Doodoo doodoo doooo dooooo buh duh BUHDUH DUUUUHH!"

"Oh! I know that one!"

He went up for a high five and she slapped her hand against his, laughing. But her laugh nearly got caught in her throat as their fingers threaded in the air between them, and that intense blast of power shot through her like an electric shock.

Their eyes met, they let go, and they both turned forward. Sarah quickly brought her coffee up to her lips, taking a careful sip.

They finally neared the shopping center's main entrance, and Martha piped up: "So how was that last minute planning you two had going on last night? Hope you didn't stay up too late."

WHEEEEZE

She heard Chuck choking on his coffee then and she and Martha both spun to watch as he thumped himself on the chest. He coughed a little, glancing at them, and then pointing down at the coffee. "S'hot. Too hot."

"You just now figured that out?" Martha asked, amused.

Thank God for John Casey and his shitty bow-making. "Casey's trying to make bows," she said, spotting the man's haphazard, crooked bows that he tried to tie. Apparently when Sarah was taking too long on her coffee trip with Martha. "I need to fix that. See you two later. Thanks for the coffee, Martha!"

"Welcome, hon!"

And she dashed away to help Casey, leaving Martha Mudenda and her harmless (not-so-harmless) question behind.


A/N: Thanks for reading. Please review if you're able.

Thanks!

-SC