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: Thanks to everyone reading and reviewing! Enjoy!

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

The rush had started at ten in the morning, on the dot. Before that, even, Sarah had emerged out from her back room with the cash for the drawer at nine-forty-five and saw five people outside waiting for her to open.

She took care of the cash and let them in early, because why not? She could do what she wanted.

But it had been non-stop since then.

She'd emptied her metal water bottle and couldn't slip back to her fridge to refill it with the water filtering container she had stashed in there. And she was so damn thirsty.

Even now, as she stood with this middle-aged woman discussing the merits of a best selling book written by one of the better female authors out there and one that was less well-known, but in Sarah's estimation a better author, she felt that horrible choking sensation in her throat that was threatening to make her eyes water.

"Why don't you, erm, take a look at the synopses and see which you like better?" Then she excused herself and rushed around the counter, snagging her empty bottle and ducking into the back. She just had to trust nobody grabbed an armful of books and rushed out of her store without paying. She really couldn't do anything to stop them even if she was out front and saw it happen.

When her bottle was refilled, she took a few long swigs, feeling it ease the horrible choking sensation, and she moved back to the front even as she drank.

Someone was waiting at the counter to purchase three hardcovers.

"Sorry. Had to refill my bottle," she said, rushing to her POS system and prepping for the sale, grabbing the books and scanning them.

"Excuse me. Do you have any Reginald Q Parmer? He does westerns," an older gentleman called from the fiction section. Not exactly polite, but she didn't have time to be bothered by it.

"I'll check for you in a moment, sir," she said back, as politely as she could, beaming at him.

"Oh, sure, sure. Take your time." He turned back to the books.

Huh. It was that easy.

"Oh, great choices," she said to the customer making their purchases. "I read this one last year when I was bed-ridden with a cold bug. I swear it practically cured me, it was so great." She lifted the book and wiggled it before sticking it in the bag. "It really picks you up."

"That's wonderful. I'll start with that one," she said, taking the bag from Sarah and grinning as she slotted her wallet back into her purse. "Merry Christmas!"

"And a Merry Christmas to you, too," Sarah said, grinning back. "Thanks for coming in."

Yet another person stepped up to purchase, however, and now she had to make a choice. Take care of them, or look up Parmer for the old Western fan in fiction.

Sarah looked at the young man and held up a finger. "Would you mind if I just look up an author for the gentleman over there really quick? He's been waiting."

"Nah, of course not," the customer said with a smile, setting his small pile on the counter.

"Thank you."

She looked it up even as she spoke to the other customer, finding not a single Parmer title in her system. She hadn't thought so. The name hadn't rung a bell. So she hurried around the counter with a "Be right back" to the patient customer and found the elderly man still in fiction.

"Hi. Thanks for your patience. I looked Parmer up and I don't have any of his books currently. Depending on any specific books of his you'd want, I could order it for you."

"No Parmer? You should really reconsider having his books," he said, shaking his finger. It was difficult for her not to make a face at him. He was just an elder being the usual I Know Better type of elder. She could handle it. "He writes some of the best Westerns out there."

"Thanks for the advice. I'll have to look him up."

"Well, I won't order but do you have a Westerns section?"

"I have Westerns sort of spread through the different sections." He looked dismayed at that. "I've got some sci-fi Westerns, fantasy Westerns, mystery Westerns. Most of the clear-cut, non-genre Westerns are in fiction. There might be a few in horror, too, come to think of it…"

"Horror? No, no, no."

"I assure you, there are some really good Westerns that are also horror." He didn't seem to believe her. "Do you want something similar to Parmer?"

"Maybe that'd be best. I need it for a Christmas gift and I don't want to chance ordering something that doesn't come in time."

"All right, give me a moment to take care of…" She turned back to the register and nearly gasped. Two more customers lined up behind the patient young man who was currently doing something on his phone, still being patient. "…the line I've got there. I'll find you something perfect, I promise."

"That'll be fine. I've got time. I'll keep looking 'til you come back."

"Thank you. I'll be right back."

And she rushed back to the computer. "I'm so sorry about that. Lemme get your name, please."

"No worries!"

She quickly took care of the customers in line, only for another to come up. She decided to just take care of them, too, since they only wanted a gift card, and then they left.

But there were likely around ten people, some of them together, some of them alone, still in the store. And she'd made a lot of money in just the two hours since she opened up.

Taking one more swig of water, she rushed back to the Western fan, having been thinking about what she'd hand him even while she checked out the other customers.

She struck gold with two of the books she handed him, feeling pretty damn good as he followed her to the register and bought two instead of the one Parmer book he was looking for.

And when he left, she felt the need to do a small celebratory dance.

Which one of her customers saw, because he let out a chuckle as he walked up to the counter. She blushed, giving him a weak smile. "Sorry you had to see that. I thought he was gonna be a much tougher customer."

"I'm not sorry I saw it," he said. "It was cute."

Oh. Oops.

Now he was very clearly flirting.

And he wasn't bad looking per se, and his books he brought up were… Oh, wow. "You're a Westerling fan?"

"Definitely. Her way with words takes me out of the doldrums of my real life and drops me in these rich worlds with characters that feel like they're sitting right next to me." He leaned in a little, smiling.

"Yes! Her worlds are so vibrant." She grabbed the books then and began to scan them one by one. "If you like Westerling, there's another series you might be interested in. Not that I'm telling you to buy it today; just look into it."

"Oh, yeah? I trust you. Who is it?"

She came around the counter to take him to the fantasy section. "The Crystal Realm series. Crystal Realm is the first one. It's an ice world, not as much the forest-y Tolkien sort of scene. Her world building is extreme but I love that heavy world-building stuff."

"Me, too. I'll take them. You have the whole series?"

"It's on-going and there are three." She handed him all three. "But I didn't say that to make you buy it today…"

"I'm buying it today. Like I said, I trust you."

She gave him a closed-mouth smile. "Good. Okay." She felt him on her heels as she went back to the computer. "Can I have your last name, and first name?" She hadn't seen him in the store before—she thought she would've remembered if she had. He sort of…stuck out, the more she looked at him. But she did the same spiel for everyone who came up to her counter.

"Last name's Rhodes. First name's Luke." She put him in the system, but then he leaned in and asked in a quiet voice, "You want my number, too?"

Well. He wasn't messing around.

She gave him a polite smile. "Just the name is okay. I set up a membership for my customers; you buy a certain amount of books, you get five bucks off."

"Ah. Cool, please put me in there."

Luke Rhodes had just been sort of rejected, in no uncertain terms, and she could tell on his face that he took it as such, but at least he seemed understanding about it. Hopefully.

By the time he pulled himself away with his bag of books (with some clear reluctance), Sarah had another line. At some point she knew she would need to freaking eat. But there were too many people in here and she'd been so Saturday Morning Lazy this morning that she hadn't packed food, thinking she could just close up for ten minutes, hop over to the burger place in the center, get her lunch, and come back to eat at the counter. But that wasn't looking likely. There wasn't even a moment when nobody was in the shop that she could lock up, turn the sign, and run off to buy her food.

She was stuck.

She would starve.

And at the same time, she was grateful. She was so grateful. Castle in the Air Bookstore was pulling in customers today. A lot of customers. And they were buying books instead of just looking, taking pictures, and buying them ten percent off from Cadabra online when they got home.

It was while she had a line of four customers (patient customers, thankfully), that she saw a glimmer of a familiar figure flit in behind one of her shelves, disappearing behind it.

Chuck?

She moved onto her tiptoes to try to see him, but he must've knelt down to look at books in the sci-fi section.

She turned back to her customer. "You find everything all right?"

"I did, thank you! I found more than I came in for, actually, so thanks a lot," she teased, giggling and taking out her credit card.

"The pros of going to a physical bookstore. You go for one thing and find a whole lotta interesting stuff around it." She grinned, slipping the books into the Castle in the Air tote the woman was also buying.

"You said it, sister."

The line didn't seem to be going away, though. She was getting hungry fast. The water wasn't sustaining her enough anymore. And one customer had gotten snippy with her, told her maybe she needed to find some help if she was having a hard time multitasking. So now that was stuck in Sarah's craw on top of everything else.

Finally, she waved at a woman and her toddler leaving the store with their Sesame Street interactive books and she turned to her next customer, only to find a tall curly-haired nerd patiently waiting with two books in hand.

"Hi, I'd like to buy these, please," he drawled in a cute, funny Kermit the Frog-sounding voice. The bubble of frustration inside of her burst, just like that, and she giggled like an idiot, shaking her head at him and taking the books.

"Can I have your last name?"

He sent her a teasingly admonishing look. "Bartowski. That's a B…an A…an R…a T…and -owski at the end."

"An 'i' or a 'y'?"

"The Polish 'i' please."

"Oh, yeah? You Polish?" she asked, smirking at the cute little nickname she gave him in her system: Comic Book Guy.

"I have no clue what I am. I was told by a nice old lady that I look like I could be Spanish, Italian, or even Persian. Those were her words. It was very weird and maybe a little racist?" He wrinkled up his face, making her snort.

She fixed him with a sparkling look. "And your first name?"

"Charles."

She choked a little, morphing it into clearing her throat to disguise it, teasing him. "I've got someone in here called…Comic Book Guy? Could that be you?"

"Doesn't sound like me, no."

The delivery was so well-done that it almost caught her off-guard. Almost.

She shook her head at him, scanning his books that he was buying.

"Oh, you don't need my phone number?"

Sarah's jaw fell open, and she was extremely amused all of a sudden. She sent him a reproving look. "You heard that? Just how long have you been here?"

"Long enooough," he sang. "Westerling's good, huh? Maybe I should give her a whirl since you seem…so into her…"

"I'm gonna call the cops on you in about two seconds."

He laughed out loud.

She wanted to talk to him some more. She wanted to tease him about his choices from the science-fiction genre, continue this teasing about the customer flirting with her, about books being better than comics…

But there were two customers behind him. She sent him an apologetic look, sort of glancing over his shoulder to give him a hint. He turned, spotted the other customers, and spun back to her with a wince. He mouthed "oops", and took out his adorable Superman wallet, quickly tapping his card to pay.

"I'll get out of your hair," he hurried, taking the books from her, their fingers brushing. She felt a powerful thrill go through her as he kept his fingers splayed over hers on the books. "…but are you hungry? Can I bring you anything? I realize you're a little bit stuck with how busy your bookstore is today." He looked genuinely pleased by it and she melted.

But then what he said hit her right in the gut.

"Oh my God, are you serious? I can't make you—"

"What do you want?" he interrupted, stepping aside so that the other customer could step up and start their purchase.

"A cheeseburger. Everything on it. Please. Oh God, and fries. Oh! A shake. Wait, no, no. That's too much. Not the shake. I'll stick with water."

"What flavor of shake do you typically like?"

Her customer shared a smirk with her and she rolled her eyes. "The more chocolate, the better."

Chuck bit his lip and backed towards the door. "Oh man, I like you."

"I like you, toooo," she sang after him, scanning the books. "Thank yoooou."

"You're welcoooooome," he sang back, beaming at her. "And hey, you. You're doin' great. Whether you have enough help or not," he added, and she knew then that he'd heard that customer, too. She smiled at him as he slinked out of the store and trotted off.

She turned back to the customer, the books all scanned. "He owns the comic book shop next door. If you know anyone who's a fan of comics, I highly recommend the shop. They know everything and they're great."

"My son is a huge comics fan. They have stuff appropriate for ten year olds?"

"Absolutely. For everyone. He actually helped me expand my own kids section so you can't go wrong. It's called Ashcan Comics," she gushed. "Right that way." She pointed.

"Thank you."

And her day continued much in the same way it had started. She helped customers between bites of food once Chuck came back. And she felt a little immature flicker of spite that she didn't have time to take a break and eat with him, talk to him, see how he was since she really hadn't been able to talk to him for a couple of days.

She still had that meeting stuck in her head, wondering if he'd taken it personally when their peers had trashed all corporations. She couldn't imagine he was bitter about it. She wondered if a guy like Chuck Bartowski got bitter about anything, save for Cadabra trying to steal his business out from under his sneaker-covered feet.

And then she found herself wondering—did any of the other business owners and shopkeepers know the background of the guy who owned the comic book shop in their shopping center? Did they know he was insanely rich? That he owned Volkoff Industries? That he was even the CEO for a year? That he was still a board member?

Or had he kept that a secret?

Would they judge him, assume things about him, about his character? Or would they think he was Geoff Frezos in a younger, cuter, more disarming package?

If she'd known all of that about him before she met him in the myriad of strange ways they'd ended up crossing one another's paths in the beginning, would she have been judgmental? Would she have assumed things about him? She thought she might have. Unfair as it would've been.

But that was all a moot point. She'd learned all of it after she'd met him, after spending time with him. And then she'd had sex with him. An extremely hot and heavy meeting in an extremely unprofessional place. She still felt a buzz in her body when she thought about it.

And now she was thinking about it and that buzz was there, which was so intensely unfair because she had people in her store, browsing, and she had work to do.

But then she heard her door open and she turned to watch her landlord walk in, glancing around the store to find her, most likely, and that buzz was gone like it had never existed in the first place.

Jesus Christ.

He spotted her and closed the distance. "Walker. You busy?"

She raised her eyebrows and looked at the customers in her store meaningfully, not saying a word.

"Oh. Right. You got customers." He sucked a bit of air in through his teeth thoughtfully. "Well, listen. I've got a bunch'a extra signs in the office. I know you wanted to take 'em home today since the bookstore's closed tomorrow. Gives you time to get a lot done."

"Okay. Yeah, thanks."

"They're in the unlocked storage. It's off to the side from the main office."

She sighed. "I can't get them now. Otherwise I'd grab them and stash them in my trunk."

"S'okay. Just swing by and grab 'em when you close up at six."

"Got it."

"Good. See ya later."

He saluted and left, just as a customer headed for the register to make their purchase. And away she went again.

}o{

Chuck adjusted the heavy ladder tucked under his arm, fixing his grip on it as he crossed the shopping center to head for the front office. The sun had since set, Ashcan Comics closed now that the seven o'clock hour had come and gone.

He'd closed himself, sending Morgan and Luce home earlier, and he'd made quick work about it. He just wanted to get outta there. It was a long day and he was glad he'd scheduled his people tomorrow in a way that meant he wouldn't have to go in unless some crazy emergency hit Ashcan.

And now he was all done, the shop all locked up, lights off. He was so ready to climb into his car, drive home, eat, take a long shower, and veg in front of the TV.

For twenty-four hours straight.

But first, he was returning the center's ladder. Chen had let them borrow it a few hours ago and he wanted to make sure he got it back to its rightful place before he headed home for the night. Nobody would think about it tomorrow if he just left it propped there in the back rooms of the shop.

He sidled up to the door, pulled it open, and very carefully maneuvered the ladder in first, shifting his weight, turning, and easing himself into the main front office.

Chen appeared suddenly, moving to hold the door for him to make sure it didn't swing shut, the back half of the ladder crashing through the glass. That'd be the last thing any of them needed.

"Thanks, Chen. Appreciate it."

"You didn't have to bring this back tonight. I could've picked it up tomorrow."

"Oh, it's no problem. You saved us by letting us use it." He let Chen take the ladder out of his hands and noticed that Casey was standing behind the front desk, rifling through some files. Since Chen ducked out to put the ladder away, he directed the rest of what he had to say at the landlord. "Yeah, so… We had a lot of overstock on POPs. Accidentally doubled our order, didn't think it had gone through, so we did it again. Oops, right? Heh. So we needed the ladder to store them up in our—"

"Don't care." Casey filed the papers in the cabinet and slid it shut, turning to face him. "Walker already gone?"

Chuck blinked. "I-I think so. The lights are off at Castle in the Air, and I didn't see her car in the parking lot when I put my messenger bag in my car before lugging the ladder over here."

"Shit." Casey made an annoyed sound. "She was gonna grab these." He ducked off to the side, pushing into the storage area, coming out with a large stack of rectangular strips of blank cardboard in his arms. He slammed them onto the top of the desk. "She told me she would get them once she closed up her store so she could finish them up before next week, but now they're just sitting here blank for another two God damn days."

"Oh. Right, she is coming up with the slogans. Does she need the signs? I mean, can't someone else design them and she can just write the slogans on, like, a piece of paper?"

"She said she would pick these up. She said she'd do 'em for us," Casey snapped. "But apparently this doesn't rank as a high enough priority and she fucked off without grabbin' 'em. She had one job and—"

"Hold on," Chuck cut him off, slicing his hand through the air, feeling ire rise in him. "Sarah is the only employee at Castle in the Air Bookstore. The only one. She had people piling in there to buy books and utilize her book expertise. All day. She didn't even have time to grab food. I had to go out and bring her some. She was literally swamped. That bookstore is incredibly important to her, and I promise you, that is her highest priority. So if she was overworked today, closed up the shop, forgot about these protest signs, and dove into her car to go home and rest, I don't think any of us has any grounds to blame her for it."

He stood up a little taller, looking Casey in the face, swallowing his own nerves about talking to the landlord like that.

"Give her a freakin' break," he continued. "Jesus Christ. She had one job? You serious? She's the only person working at that store. That's a little more important than picking up these signs. If she doesn't work her ass off in there, what's the point of this?" He slapped the stack of signs lightly. "If there's no store to protect, why are we doing any of this?"

Casey squirmed, seeming uncomfortable at first. Chuck waited for the outburst, the berating…

But he only saw the older man cross his arms, a sheepish look finally settling on his face. "You're right," he admitted. "I lashed out and she don't deserve it." He cleared his throat. "Guess I'm stressed, too. So…Ahem, sorry."

Holy shit, had John Casey just apologized?

But then Chuck saw a small smirk stretch over Casey's face. "Guess I deserved that too, huh? You're lucky you're…right…otherwise I probably would'a kicked your ass."

Was that…respect? Maybe more like a grudging respect, but God damn, Chuck was gonna take it to the bank and cash it. Fast.

"Thank you for not kicking my ass," Chuck said, clearing his throat. "If you did, I wouldn't be able to bring these signs to Sarah right now so that she can work her magic on 'em." He shrugged.

Casey eyed him. "You gonna take 'em to her? Isn't that outta your way?"

"I don't know. Guess I'll have to call her and ask where she lives. But it isn't a big deal and she'll have the signs she was supposed to take home with her."

The older man narrowed his eyes and then grunted with a shrug. "Not my business, s'long as those signs are ready for next week's protest."

"They will be. It's Sarah. C'mon. When's Sarah Walker let us down?"

Casey didn't respond, instead opening up the door to the room and gesturing at the signs. "There." Chuck's eyes bugged a little. There were more? Oh well. To the trunk of his car they'd go.

"All of those?"

"What's the matter, kid? Don't wanna be Helpful Harry anymore?" Casey snarked with a shit-eating grin.

"I am. I mean, I do. I'm Helpful Harry." He stooped down and hoisted the cardboard signs into his arms, then snagged the ones on the desk. They weren't heavy, at least. Since they were made out of nothing, basically. There were just a lot of them and he didn't quite know if he could keep his grip all the way back to his car.

He was going to try.

And then he would call Sarah to get her address.

}o{

"…Chuck? You okay?"

Her voice filled his car and he smiled immediately, glad he'd put the call through his car speakers instead of just using his phone. Hearing her say his name felt like the heater was already going in his car, when he knew this freaking hybrid's heater took longer than his old one had.

"Yeah! Yeah, I'm good. Sorry to call late like this. Only I just went to the front office of the shopping center and—"

"Shit!" she interrupted. "The signs. I was going to grab a bunch of signs from the office because I'm off tomorrow. I was going to work on them. God damn it, I forgot. The day was so hectic. He's probably pissed."

"C'mon, it's Casey. His main setting is pissed all the time, whether you remembered the signs or not."

Sarah cursed again. "Well, if he expects me to go all the way back there to get them, that's not fuckin' happening. I took a long luxurious bath and I'm in my chill clothes now. Nothing is getting me to leave my apartment, not even if this place catches fire."

Chuck found himself giggling at that. "Sarah, I'd kind of like to keep you around for a while. If the place catches fire, please get outta there."

She giggled back. "Oh, fine. Even if I didn't want to, I'd have no choice. My survival instincts are pristine."

That made him laugh. "Good. Anyway, don't worry. Nobody expects you to come back to get the signs. In fact, I've got them in my car trunk right now and I'm sitting in my heated car prepared to bring them to you."

Sarah was quiet for a few long moments. "Wait. Are you serious? You're trying to bring those to my apartment? Chuck, that's—No, really. That's very nice. But I'll just swing by tomorrow morning and get them. Ugh. Sucks, but—"

"Sorry, too late, they're already in my trunk. Text me your address and I'll swing by and hand 'em off. It's no sweat. Honestly."

"You've been working all day, Chuck. I'm not making you go out of your way to come here when you could be going straight home to your fancy beach house to unwind. No."

She was adamant.

He'd just have to be more adamant.

"I wasn't planning on the beach house this time; I was headed home to my place in LA." That wasn't actually true but she didn't need to know that. He had been going to Venice Beach. It had felt like something he needed for his peace of mind. But he didn't mind driving. He liked it, in fact.

Especially at night, with the lights of LA surrounding him.

It was kind of nice.

"Chuck, that's too much. Seriously. I'm not asking you to come over here."

"Okay, don't ask. Just send me your address. I, erm…" He cleared his throat, realizing there was a good chance she didn't actually want him to know where she lived. Sure, they'd had sex. Yes, it had been an explosive however many minutes. And things had felt really good and comfortable especially in certain moments since then. But that didn't mean she wanted him to know where she lived. "If you're comfortable sending it, I mean. I get it if not. I won't be offended, I promise."

She sighed heavily. He waited.

"The idea of driving to the shopping center tomorrow on my day off is giving me actual pain in my soul," she said in an adorably whiney voice. He chuckled. "Ugh, Chuck. I'm gonna let you do this for me, but I swear, I'm paying you back somehow. Gas money or—Ah. I know. I'll buy you dinner sometime. How's that?"

Chuck was struck by that right in the chest. Dinner? She'd buy him dinner? Like…out somewhere?

"Oh. Um… It's-It's a deal," he breathed. "I accept those terms."

"I've had a really long day and I never got a chance to chill, even when you brought me food. I was stuffing food in my face and ringing people up practically at the same time. I probably looked like…ugh, a scene from some National Geographic jungle animals documentary."

Chuck cracked up, turning on his car lights and pulling out of his space finally. His stubbornness had succeeded. And likely, her exhaustion. "I'm in awe of your work ethic, Sarah. Genuinely." He'd popped his head in again during the afternoon, a few hours after bringing back food for her, and she'd been rushing back and forth between the register and customers who needed her help on the sales floor.

So he'd merely given her a little wave, and decided against asking her if she needed an extra body in the store this time. Flint wasn't on the schedule today and Chuck knew his own shop was swarmed with customers. Even with Morgan and Luce working, he needed to be there to help them out. They'd gotten a delivery of a bunch of comics they'd ordered for the holiday rush and the faster they got onto the floor, the more they'd sell.

She'd texted him a few minutes later asking if he'd needed her for something, and he'd responded with something in the hopes he made her laugh: "Just needed to see your smiling face. MISSION ACCOMPLISHED."

He'd gotten back a laughing emoji and a cute: "You giant dork."

"Is it work ethic if I literally have no choice? If I'd given up and gone into the back to lie down on the floor and stare at the ceiling like I wanted to, I would've lost a lot of business," she said with a snort. "Chuck, you're a life saver, bringing those. It means I'm not stressing myself out the rest of the week trying to get this done because I was a dumdum and forgot to grab them tonight."

Chuck made a decision to aim his car towards Los Angeles proper. Her address was likely in that direction.

"I'm happy to do this for ya."

"Yeah, I've noticed you're happy to do a lot of stuff for me. Why is that?"

Was she…flirting? Oh. Okay. He grinned hard. "It's extremely rewarding."

She paused. "Is it? How?"

"Clearly you haven't smiled in the mirror lately, Sarah, otherwise you'd know how freaking powerful that thing is. Your smile, I mean." She didn't say anything and he winced. "That was so suave in my head and it tumbled out sounding deeply corny."

Sarah laughed and his chest filled with fluttering. "It was sweet. …And deeply corny. And…maybe I like that."

He swallowed hard, squirming in his seat as he slipped onto the freeway. "You like corny? Oh boy, are you in for a treat, Sarah Walker, because I've got crop circles all over me. …Get it? Because I'm a cornfield? Lots of corn? And…UFOs come down and use it for their…crop circles. Ahem. Listen, I'm gonna hang up, but shoot me that address, huh?"

Sarah was already laughing halfway through his horrible spiraling. "I'm serious about owing you dinner, but if you pull any crop circle shit while we're eating, I'll get outta there so quick."

Chuck pulled his lips between his teeth, smiling even as he winced, knowing she was teasing him, maybe even flirting still. "I wouldn't blame you one bit."

"See you soon, you goof."

"Absolutely."

"Thanks again, Chuck. You have no idea how big of a help this is."

"I've got your back, Sarah."

"Yeah…" He heard her let out a breath, and she muttered through a smile he could hear, "I know."

They both hung up moments later and he heard his phone beep as her address popped up on the screen. He grinned. He's guessed right and he was headed in the right direction. He'd be there in around fifteen minutes if the traffic behaved. The worst of it was pretty much done by seven and it was closer to eight now.

And that meant he had about fifteen minutes of replaying her offer of buying him dinner in his head over and over and over again. And over again. And again.

Did she mean like a date? Or were they gonna have dinner like friends or colleagues have dinner?

Were they pals who'd had sex a few weeks ago and since then had come to terms with the heated moment in the back room being nothing more than a one-time thing they'd both needed and wanted and didn't regret…but still…it was a one time thing?

Or was she talking, like…getting spruced up, going to a restaurant, sitting across from one another at one of those little tables that barely fit two dinner plates, a candle between them, sharing a bottle of wine…French jazz wafting through the air around them.

Oh, he wanted it to be that. So bad.

He didn't need the tiny table, candle, and French jazz, of course. But he did need her. And he was realizing just how badly he needed her the closer his car got to her place.

Chuck knew he shouldn't ask for clarification when he got to her place. He needed to take his foot off the gas. (Not literally, he was on the freeway.) But he was determined to have that dinner come to fruition. Sooner rather than later, if he could help it.

He wondered if he was overthinking it. He had a really bad habit of overthinking everything. So of course he couldn't stop thinking of the way she insisted she owed him dinner. She'd be paying. Did that automatically make it a date? No. No, he knew it didn't. Damn it.

God.

Shit.

By the time he parked outside of her apartment building, he was nervous and fidgeting. And he knew he was a problem, but he couldn't help it. He'd just bring the cardboard up to her, hand it over, and say goodnight.

He took his time popping the trunk, reaching in and snagging the pile of cardboard signs, propping them awkwardly against his knees on the ground to shut it again, hefting them back up into his arms, and heading inside.

Just as she'd texted him, the front door to the building was always unlocked. But that meant setting down the signs again to pull the door open. Thankfully an elderly man, likely one of the residents, was walking out at the same time, and he kindly held the door for Chuck.

"Thank you so much, sir. I appreciate you."

The man tipped his newsboy cap with a smile and went on his way, leaving Chuck to wait for the elevator. Thank God, a functioning elevator. The stairwell looked narrow, and with his arms full of these signs, navigating that for three floors sounded…not fun.

Within minutes, he was standing at her apartment door, staring at the dark brown wood, taking some deep breaths. He maneuvered the signs in a way that he could get a good knock in with his knuckles, and quickly went back to holding them with both arms wrapped around them.

A/N: Next chapter soon!

Review if you're able to. Thanks for reading!

-SC