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: Another chapter! That's really all I have the wherewithal to say at the moment. I'm tired. But I hope you enjoy this chapter. ... Hehe.
Disclaimer: I don't own Chuck or its characters, and any similarities in this fic to any corporate entities are just coincidence... shh.
There was a sudden stinging sensation in the back of his neck, pulling him out of the deep spiral of thoughts in which he was immersed.
"Ow!" He spun to see Morgan give him a wide-eyed look, clamping his hand over his mouth. He glared. "What the hell?!" He looked down and saw the rubber band on the counter by his elbow. "You could've made me blind, dude!" He rubbed his neck and could feel raised skin and a stinging sensation where the rubber band had hit him. "That hurts!"
"Sorry! I'm sorry! I thought it was gonna be a lot less intense, but then it shot off my finger super fast and intense, and I meant to hit you where your jacket is, not directly on your skin and definitely not so close to your head I'm sorry!" Morgan rushed out, stretching his hand towards Chuck in genuine regret. "You can shoot it at me if it makes you feel better. Retribution!"
"I'm not big on retribution," he said with a quiet scoff, smirking, still rubbing the raised skin. Jesus. That really had hurt. God damn, Morgan was good at shooting rubber bands with his fingers as if he had a whole-ass rubber band gun. Ow.
"No, seriously. Bro. I'll stand right in front of you." He scampered around the display and stood in front of where Chuck leaned against the counter. "Shoot it directly at my face. I'll cover my eyes."
"No!" he laughed. "I'm not going to hurt you, Morgan."
"I deserve it!"
"Yeah, you do." He shrugged, snorting. "But that doesn't mean I'm gonna crack you in the face with a rubber band point blank. Thanks for the offer, though, buddy."
Morgan sighed, seeming almost bummed. "Ugh, fine."
"Did you want to be shot in the face by a rubber band?" Chuck giggled. "You weirdo!" He glanced at the clock then and saw that it was after closing time. "Oh shit! Dude! We're closing an hour early today for tomorrow! Why didn't you tell me? It's after six. We gotta count the drawer—"
"I know. I did it already."
Chuck did a double-take at his best friend, popping open the cash drawer and looking inside. He really had counted and taken out all of the cash, leaving the coins, as was part of their usual closing ritual.
"I was standing right here. When did you do this?"
"Like, five minutes ago. You were all deep in thought and kind of just staring off into space, so I counted the drawer and let you zone out for a bit. You've been working hard and…" He sighed, shrugging, sending Chuck a bit of a sad look. "Everything with Lou… I figure that was what you were thinking about."
"Ah." Chuck nodded. "Yeeeeah, you know what? I wasn't thinking about Lou. Know what's weird? I'm…okay. I'm good. I haven't thought about her in a while."
Morgan gave him a dubious look. "I'm sorry, are we talking about my best buddy, Chuck Bartowski? Same guy who goes through a break up and…erm, dwells on the girl for a very long time?" He winced.
"Dwells? That's very kind of you, Morgs, the way you completely understated how obsessive and deeply depressed I get when I go through a break-up. Dwells. Heh." He patted his friend on the shoulder.
"I don't judge. We all do it differently."
Chuck snorted.
Nobody did it like he did, though.
"You know what? Lou was right." Morgan seemed not to want to respond to that… Probably smart. "I needed some space from the day when I actually got dumped to see that she was right. I needed that space to get past all the bad feelings and the hurt. But she said I'd get to a point where I'd see what she'd seen: this is best for both of us because we didn't fit. It wasn't as good as we convinced ourselves it was, me more than her if I'm bein' honest." He shrugged. "We weren't…for each other."
Morgan's eyes widened and he glanced to the side. "Huh. Wow. I'm pretty proud of ya, man. That's a grown-up way to look at the whole thing."
"It took me time to get there, trust me."
"But you got there!" Morgan thumped him on his back.
"Anyway, thanks for getting me out of my weird zoning out thing, although I wish you'd nudged me instead of destroying my neck with a rubber band from across the room but I guess we can't always get what we want."
"But if we try sometimes…?"
"You get what you need. I see what you were doing theeeere." He wiggled his finger at Morgan. "We gotta get to work, finishing the closing stuff so I can get outta here. I'm going next door; Sarah and I still have work we need to do, some last minute stuff for tomorrow."
"Oooooohhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh. Sarah, huh?"
"Jesus Christ, Morgan. Seriously? Will you drop the tone?"
"What tone?"
"You just held a Bill Withers note on that 'oh', buddy. That was a definite tone."
Morgan laughed. "Okay, fair. You've, uhhhhhhh, been spending lots of time with Sarah the Book Woman."
"What is with you people? You're all gonna ruin what has become a very fruitful working relationship. Cut it out."
The truth was, she'd been a large part of what had him zoning out at the end of the work day as he'd manned the front counter. Not just her, though. Because he hadn't been able to stop thinking about the slick cool dude she'd been talking to this morning.
Mostly the look Sarah'd had on her face, her body language. It was closed off, almost…protective. Like she was trying to keep herself safe from the guy. Not physically, per se, but more like emotionally? He didn't know.
And it had worried him. Maybe it had made him feel a spike of concern. And maybe he hadn't wanted to go into his shop, leave her alone with him. Maybe he wanted to rescue her from a clearly uncomfortable situation.
But it wasn't his business and she clearly expected some privacy, whether they were friends now or not. After her response to Martha setting signs out in the surrounding lawns to promote her bookstore, Chuck was pretty sure she wouldn't appreciate him stomping up to her, demanding to know who this man was in her life, and whether she was okay…or maybe she needed the big tall six foot four nerd to protect her?
Embarrassing…
He'd seen her lift some pretty heavy shit, and she'd referenced both running every morning when she could and also kick boxing. He'd flipped out a little and had to reel it in when she gave him a weirded out look over how intense he got when she mentioned the kick boxing.
Long story short, she could kick his ass. Easy. And probably the cool slick guy, too. Both of them at once.
So he'd stayed in his shop, laughing and having fun with his customers, helping them find the comics they wanted and needed, recommending things to the young ones just getting into comics. Distracting himself from the needling image of Sarah with her arms crossed, her lips pressed into a thin line with the corners turned down, her blue eyes dimmed, lowered to her feet, as if not wanting to look at the man in front of her.
And damn it, why'd she look away when he waved, like she was pretending she hadn't seen him? That hadn't felt good, either. Like she didn't want the man to see Chuck, didn't want the guy to know she was acquainted with the nerd pushing into the comic book shop.
That wasn't fair.
She wasn't like that.
And still, his stupid brain had always been his worst enemy.
"…Okay this is getting ridiculous."
"What?" He shook himself and looked at Morgan.
"I'm gonna do the closing stuff. You just go over and work on tomorrow with Sarah. You're totally checked out, dude."
"No, I'm not. I'll help—"
"Chuck!" Morgan laughed, pushing at him. "Go. I just spent a good two minutes talking to you about a customer and you zoned out again and didn't hear a word."
Chuck winced hard, deciding not to do Morgan the disservice of pretending he had heard him. "…Sorry."
"Go next door. Tell Sarah I said hi. I've got this, man. I'll lock up."
"You sure? I'm sorry. I don't mean to be a space cadet."
The thing was, Sarah had been totally normal when she texted him asking him if he had time after their stores closed at six to finish tying up loose ends on the Small Business Saturday festival. Because holy hell, that was tomorrow.
But it was like that awkward exchange outside hadn't happened. She'd used winking emojis, smiling emojis, she'd even laughed. So who the hell knew what was going on there? He didn't.
"You two have worked every single day on this thing. When tomorrow is a huge success, Chuck, my dude, it'll be because of you two." He tugged adorably on Chuck's jacket. "And it's gonna be big. I can feel it. It's gonna change the game."
"Dude, I feel it, too," he said honestly. "Like tomorrow's gonna be a blast and so many people are gonna come to our center for this Small Business Saturday festival."
"Yeah! People have been saying 'See you on Saturday!' all week to me, bro! It's gonna be packed! No hitches in sight." He knuckled his arm. "Go do your badass thing with Sarah, though. If you guys need anything, just call me. I was gonna go see that new horror kung-fu movie with Anna but she bailed, some family thing." He huffed, shrugging.
"Oh. You…okay? Do you need—?"
"I'm fine! Go! GO!" He actually pushed at Chuck, making the shop owner laugh.
They said their goodbyes, Chuck grabbed his messenger bag from the locker in the back, and ducked out to head next door.
He paused at her door, unsure if she'd locked it yet or not. He couldn't see her anywhere in the store from where he stood and he wondered if she was in the back with the cash or something. He grabbed the door and tugged on it, and he immediately felt stupid when it swung open.
"Oh," he muttered to himself.
The bell jingled and Sarah's head popped up from behind one of the shelves, her eyes wide. When she saw it was him, she seemed relieved.
"Oh, it's just you."
"Well, thank you very much for that gushing welcome," he teased.
She smirked. And he only noticed as she came out from around the shorter shelves in the middle of the store that she had a pile of books in her arms. "Of course I'm running behind in everything. I'm sorry. If you want to—"
Chuck hurried in close, taking one of the piles from her to make her burden easier. "Don't apologize. I run a shop too, don't forget, and I know exactly what it feels like to have jobs that need to get done pile up, and then it hits closing time but stuff still isn't done, and the stress piles up too on top of everything else. I get you."
Sarah sent him a smile. "Thank you. I was actually…kind of busy today. Like, pretty busy actually. I feel a little frazzled now. And I haven't even looked at what needs to be reordered."
She began slotting books into their spots.
"Reordered?"
"Yeah. I go through what was bought at the end of the day and make sure to toss it on a purchase order so I can send it into the publishers when I hit the minimum for free freight. I have to keep stuff that sells stocked, especially the big sellers." Sarah sent him an amused look, tilting her head in a gesture for him to follow her with the pile of books in his arms and he did. He felt almost a little eager following after her which was slightly embarrassing.
But she didn't know it, which was the most important thing.
"How are you with the alphabet?"
He frowned a little. "You mean because I read comic books? There are words in comic books. I've already told you this before. I can read. In English, at least."
Sarah rocked forward with a laugh. "Jumping to conclusions, are we? I meant that your arms are currently full of books that need to go back into the fiction section and if you can put them away alphabetically by author's last name while I count down my drawer, that'd be super helpful." She winced. "If you don't mind. I totally get it if—"
"Oh! No, no. I gotchu. Definitely. I know my alphabet. Thanks." He sent her a flat look and she snorted, still smiling hard at him. He turned to look at her fiction section, then headed straight for it. "Do you separate the Irish O's and the Mc's, Mac's, and De's?"
"That is an excellent question. I put those at the front of the section. Mac's before Mc's before M's…that sort of thing. Thank you, Chuck. I really mean it."
Chuck grinned at her over his shoulder, going to work. "Hey, no worries. It's kinda fun, honestly. But, um, real talk… I know I was trying to come up with insults for books all those weeks ago when we had lunch together outside, but books actually are heavy. Way heavier than comics."
She laughed, and he heard her opening the drawer, the sound of coins rattling as she scooped them up and began to count. "Individual books are heavier than individual comics. But I bet a box full of comics can get pretty heavy. All that super condensed paper stuff in there. It's like a bunch of books, just packaged smaller."
Chuck hummed, impressed. "That's very mathematical of you, Miss Walker, Bookworm Extraordinaire."
He heard her laugh again and he gave her the brain space to count down her drawer. Counting and talking was…not easy to do. Even for him, and he'd always been exceptional at math, numbers, all of it.
He wasn't lying. This was sort of fun, and it ended maybe a little sooner than he wanted it to. He finished, slipping the last book into place, and turned on his heel to announce he was done, to ask if she needed any other help from a guy who knew his alphabet, but he didn't see her at the register anymore.
There was a rustling sound in the back, a thump, a clank. Maybe she was putting the money away.
So he wandered around the front counter and stopped at the threshold into her storage and break room space. She was kneeling in front of a safe she seemed to have pulled out from under a shelf that had even more books stacked on it.
The shelving back here went from floor to ceiling, hence the stepladder she had folded in the corner. So many freaking books. But the last shelf at the bottom had a curtain of sorts that hung down from it to the floor. He figured she must hide the safe behind it. It was better than nothing.
"Oh! Hey. There you are. I'm finished. Anything else I can help with? I'm an expert at vacuuming."
She giggled, shutting the safe securely, then grunting as she scooted it back in behind the curtain, just like he'd thought. Then she stood to her full height and grinning. "I'm all closed up. No vacuuming tonight, I'm tired and I'm letting it go for a few days. So sue me," she said with a shrug. "Nobody is even gonna be in here tomorrow. They'll all be shopping outside."
"Great point."
"Let me just check a few things out front and I'm all yours."
Chuck stood there with a dry mouth suddenly, feeling silly for being so affected by three words. She definitely hadn't meant it like that. And still, his brain was torturing him.
"Feel free to grab a seat at the table over here. I took it out again for us to work on tonight. Had to clear out more boxes to make room. …Again."
"For me? I feel so special," he semi-flirted.
She stopped at the threshold to the front, turning with her hands on either side of the doorframe. She gave him a shyly amused little closed-mouth smile, looking up at him through her eyelashes, but she didn't say anything, merely ducking into the front.
Chuck let out a slow breath, shook himself, and moved to set his messenger bag on her fold-out table. He grabbed a chair and plopped down into it, going into his bag, pulling his binder and notebook out, moving the bag to the floor and out of the way, opening the notebook to his notes for the festival, and going through them again.
It was only a handful of minutes before Sarah came back into the room, maybe checking the sales floor, turning her sign around, locking up, but in that time, he managed to lift his eyes from his notes and think about what he'd witnessed earlier that day…yet again.
Who was that guy?
He was too old to be an ex. Right? That seemed…blegh. Anyway, he needed to have more respect for Sarah than to assume things, jump to conclusions, or think he'd earned or somehow deserved to have opinions about whoever she did or didn't date, whatever her love life looked like—before, or now, or in the future.
She'd just seemed like she hadn't been happy. And it had made his chest ache. And why hadn't she seemed to want that guy to know about him? The more he thought about it, the more it felt like that was it. He didn't think she was…embarrassed about knowing him, even if she did tease about not wanting to open up a comic book. He didn't doubt that she had no interest in his comic books, but he had a sense she understood their importance, maybe because books seemed important to her. She got it. So when she teased, it was teasing. It was fun.
Maybe she didn't want that guy to know about him, not because she was ashamed of Chuck but because she was ashamed of that guy? Maybe it wasn't about Chuck, and it was about him.
So who was he? What had he done to her?
It wasn't fair, but he felt a ridiculous protectiveness rising in him throughout the day, and even now. Without knowing a thing, he felt a spark of annoyance towards that cool cat slick dude, too. He stood with an air of smugness, like he knew he was cool. It rubbed him the wrong way. Maybe because it was juxtaposed with Sarah standing in front of him looking like she was having a really not okay time, hurt but covering it with a mask, her arms crossed, shifting her weight uncomfortably.
And maybe he was reading all of it wrong.
By the time Sarah stepped into the back with a smile on her face and a coffee in a cardboard to-go cup that she got from the coffee shop around the corner, he was all mixed up in the head, not sure if he should bring it up or maybe…well, maybe he should mind his own business.
She obviously hadn't wanted him involved or she might've waved at him, introduced him, something. She'd done the opposite of that.
"So it's tomorrow," she said, plopping down in the chair next to his. She took a sip of her coffee. "I'm kind of stressed. Are you stressed?" She pressed back into her chair and slumped a little.
It seemed that was how they were starting their last-minute tying up loose ends meeting tonight. Good. He pushed his binder away from him, and slumped against his own chair.
"I'm weirdly not stressed. Or maybe I'm a little stressed. But I'm feeling a strange boost of confidence as we get closer to this thing becoming real tomorrow."
She sipped her coffee again and made a face. "Wow, must be nice to be so free from anxiety and stress," she said airily, waving her free hand through the air, teasing him.
He chuckled. "Full disclosure, I said the word strange because I'm typically a giant ball of anxiety and stress about…a lot of things…most things. My brain always has five million things flitting around in it at any given moment, and for something like tomorrow, I'd typically have all of those five million voices clambering to remind me of the ways in which it could all go South. Like…things catching on fire."
She laughed, rolling her eyes to the ceiling. "Oh great. Fire. Not something I'd thought of but now I'm thinking about it."
"All that wood out there."
"Dear god," she cracked up, reaching over to smack his arm lightly.
"No, no," he said with another chuckle. "That's the thing, though. It's not happening with our Small Business Saturday Festival. I feel a sense of calm about it. It's gonna be great."
Sarah watched him for a few long moments, and then she smiled and reached behind her, straining a bit to knock on the wooden shelf behind her, the shirt she wore riding up. He accidentally spotted her bellybutton and a few inches of her abs above the line of her jet black jeans, and he quickly lifted his gaze to her face as she turned back. "Knocking on wood, just in case."
"I hope you knocked extra hard to cover me, too, because I don't have wood over here; you're on the wood side of the room." That made her laugh again. He gave her a pleased look, deciding he really liked the sound of her laugh, the way her face lit up, the big grin that stretched her nose a little and put small dents in both cheeks. "I just have a feeling, Sarah. In my gut. Tomorrow's gonna be big for us."
"It is big," she agreed. "But will it be successful? Will people come?"
"I dunno how it's been here, but over in the Nerd Palace next door," he drawled, making her giggle, her blue eyes sparkling, "people have been saying stuff like, 'See you on Saturday!' They sound really stoked about it. People know, and people are coming." He shrugged. "Unless they're just saying that stuff and don't mean it. But I believe. I belieeeeeeeve," he sang, making her giggle again. There was a quiet snort at the end of it and he thought he spotted her blush just slightly.
He really and truly liked her. A lot. It was getting to be more than a lot now, dangerously so.
And he didn't know what to do about it.
"Good," she said, warmth emanating from her as she leaned forward again, setting her coffee down and leaning her elbows on the table. "Then I believe, too."
"Oh, great. Because of me? That's a lot of pressure and I'm starting to feel stress," he whined, giggling with his tongue between his teeth as she gave him a mock shove, pushing at his arm with a, "Oh! shut! up!"
She sighed as they both sobered up, just enjoying the quiet in this room behind the store.
"I hope you're right, that tomorrow is a blast, and we knock Cadabra down a peg or six. I could really use that boost."
Chuck turned to glance at her for a long couple of seconds. She was looking down at the table, her head hanging almost as if she was stretching her neck, and she pushed a hand into her hair that was falling out of her braid. Ridiculous how she'd had that same braid all day long and it was slowly coming out throughout the day, and it only managed to make her more beautiful. Though he wasn't sure anything existed that could make her less beautiful.
"Why?" he asked then, interrupting the quiet. "You doing okay?"
"The store's picked up," she explained, sitting up straight again, smiling at him. "Better than a couple of weeks ago, at least. Seems like more people are finding my Castle in the Air."
He loved the way she'd phrased that. Like this was her safe haven, her home, her dream. He related so hard if that was how she'd meant it.
"Oh. Good, I'm glad. I'm super glad." She smiled at him and he smiled back, but he felt his lips twitch just a little. "But, erm…I-I meant…you. I was asking if…you're doing okay. Not that I don't care about the store; I do! I just also care about…"
You. But for some reason, he was having a hard time letting that tumble out of his mouth.
Sarah bit her lip, tilting her head. "I'm good. Thank you for asking. That's sweet."
But her I'm good, while delivered with a quiet seriousness, hadn't seemed to reach her eyes. And her eyes, he'd slowly been realizing, held so much in them.
"Okay." He nodded. And he couldn't keep it inside, in spite of knowing he really should. "Only, I saw you…earlier today…" Her face dropped the soft smile and she looked nervous immediately, and fwip…there went that mask of hers. "You were talking to someone, a guy, and you didn't look…okay. And I guess it made me worried."
Sarah raised her eyebrows and pursed her lips, her eyes finally sweeping over to meet his gaze. "You don't have to be worried about me. I've taken care of myself so far. I've got it."
He heard the salt in her tone and he swallowed hard. "Of course," he said sincerely, shaking his head. "I'm not—I don't mean to sound…protective. I'm not presuming anything."
She sighed, looking down for a moment, and then she looked up at him. "And I don't mean to snap your head off…again." She winced. "It's just—It's fine, I'm fine. You don't have to worry about me."
Chuck nodded. "Okay. Got it. And I know it's not-not my business, so…Yeah, I understand that."
It seemed as though she wasn't sure how to respond to that, pursing her lips again, only this time twisting them to the side.
"Who-Who was he, though?"
That got him the flattest look he'd seen Sarah Walker make in the handful of months since he first saw her outside of what would become this bookstore they sat in now.
"Is that so important for you to know? Really?"
He paused. "…No." Chuck knew by the look on her face that he wasn't at all convincing. "It's-It's none of my business," he said then.
"And yet, I'm sure you've come up with any number of assumptions about who I was talking to this morning…" He didn't say anything and she crossed her arms. "…Haven't you?"
"I made zero assumptions, actually. So…" He just barely resisted sticking his tongue out. Now wasn't the time for that. "That would've been super rude, and like I keep saying, it isn't any of my b—"
"Business. I know, I know," she finished for him, cutting him off. She huffed, rolled her eyes, and pinched the bridge of her nose. "Who'd you think it was? Who else could he have been but my dad?"
Why hadn't that occurred to him? What in the hell was wrong with him that he didn't think of that immediately?
"Oh." Chuck sat up straighter. "Your dad. Oh, your dad! Wow!"
"Don't."
"Don't what?" He leaned his elbows on the table. "He in town to visit? Or does he live in town?"
"I said don't. Look, again, I don't want to…upset you. I'm just not in the mood to talk about him. I don't wanna discuss it. Not right now. Okay?" She tapped the binder. "We've got stuff we have to focus on and I'm not—" Her voice died and she swallowed hard.
Would it upset her to discuss it? Was that it? He didn't much blame her for not wanting to talk about her dad if it was a touchy subject. He'd already invaded her privacy enough, he decided.
So he nodded. "Okay. I understand."
Sarah seemed almost like she wasn't sure what to make of that, and then she shook herself slightly, and then turned away from him, grabbing the binder and basically ripping it open. She clearly did not want to talk about her dad.
And frankly, he related. Again.
She was frazzled as she turned to the 8.5 by 11 map of the festival area that he'd printed many copies of, handing them out to all of the small business owners with storefronts in the Victoria Shopping Center.
"I know we've solidified pretty much everything at this point, which is good, because this fuggin' thing is tomorrow…" she started, officially changing the subject. And yet, that tension from the revelation about her dad being the man she was talking to earlier seemed to remain in her. "But I can't stop thinking about those gift baskets."
"What's wrong with them?" he asked, furrowing his brow.
"Nothing. But are we really gonna ask people to hang around for an entire ten hour festival to claim their prize? That's all day," she said. "Nobody's gonna do that. These baskets were so much work, and it'd be for nothing."
"Oh no." She was right. They'd planned on having the baskets out on tables with the forms next to them, with people coming up and bidding on what they wanted throughout the day, and then at the end of the night, they'd announce the winners, collect payment, and hand them off. But Sarah was right. Nobody would stay there, or come back later for winner announcements. "Can we…" He paused, wracking his brain. "Maybe we announce the winners at the end of the night and collect payment later?"
Sarah sighed. "I already went through that in my head. We'd have to ask people to put a lot of info on those forms while they bid, out in the open for anyone to see throughout the day? That's not something people want to do. And what if they bid on it, but then they don't respond to us for the payment or anything when we try to get in contact with them? Just a big mess."
"That would be messy. You're right." Something occurred to him then and he snapped his fingers. "We take five or six out from storage at a time, have the bidding go for, what, like…two hours at the most? We put a sign up, telling them when the winners are announced and baskets will be put out. That's over, baskets distributed, money collected, we go through the next set."
She pursed her lips. "Only thing is, we might not make as much money on the individual baskets if they aren't sitting there for as long."
"That's true, but at least the people would still be there and we'd have it taken care of right there on the spot. Get the payment, hand off the basket. 'Heyyy congratulations, here's your basket, thanks for the fifty bucks, g'bye!' Right? Easy."
"Then are you volunteering to do all the mathematical work dividing the baskets up into groups, how long the bidding terms will be, et cetera?" she asked, raising her eyebrow with a small smirk.
"I'll do it. No problem. I'll do it right now even. How many baskets we got?"
"Twenty-five."
He got to work, tearing a scratch paper out from his notebook. She seemed to watch him in amusement, her chin propped on her palm, elbow on the table.
"Done," he said, not even a minute later, pushing it over. "There." He pointed to the small demonstration he drew at the bottom of the paper, explaining the way they'd divvy up the gift baskets, how many hours the bidding terms would last. Two hours each, four groups, six baskets in each group, except for the last group which would have seven.
"Well done."
"This was first grade math."
"Okay, well… now you're just being cocky."
"No, I'm not. It literally was just…first grade math."
She giggled, pushing the paper back to him and rolling her eyes. She got a certain look on her face then, seeming to lose the amused light in her eyes. He was going to ask if she was okay after almost a minute of silence, but then she interrupted said silence with "…Chuck?"
"Yeah?"
Sarah looked at him steadily. "I hate to be the one who keeps hammering at the pessimism but I've been thinking a lot about tomorrow…"
"You can tell me your pessimism. I will listen, soak it in, think about it sincerely—ya know, chew on it—and then I will likely try to talk you out of the pessimism." He sent her a crooked smile.
She snorted, just a bit of appreciation and amusement in her face, but then she picked at the edge of his binder, pursing her lips thoughtfully. "On my grand opening, people were in here all day long. I had lines. I was… Oh my God, it was so nuts. And in the blips of moments when I could actually have lucid thoughts on that day, I remember thinking, 'God, I'm gonna be able to hire employees in no time if this continues.' But then it…didn't continue. The next day people came in, a lot but nowhere near as many as the grand opening. And then it was basically…crickets. At least in comparison to those first two days. Those people didn't come back. And I don't know if I fucked up somehow, if it didn't feel like a place they wanted to come back to, or…"
She must have seen him frowning, his furrowed brow, his need to say something to sway her from thinking she'd been the cause, but she cut him off. "Wait, I'm not… This isn't really about me or the bookstore. You don't have to say anything to make me feel better."
He swallowed and nodded.
"What if people come tomorrow, they come to Small Business Saturday, partake in the festival, buy things, bid on the gift baskets, dance to the music, play games…and then they think their duty to the small businesses here is done and they never return? And when Cadabra opens, they go, 'Oh wow, cheap stuff? How convenient!' and they shop there anyway. In spite of our efforts. What happens then?"
Chuck frowned, and then he reached up to scratch an itch behind his ear. "People be like that sometimes, huh?"
She groaned. "Oh great, now I've even pushed my cynicism about humankind onto you, too. I've rubbed off in the worst way."
"Please," he scoffed. "There are so many things about you I wish you'd rub onto me." He stopped, realizing acutely, immediately, how that sounded. She was looking at him with wide eyes and blushing. "I mean, I wish some of your…sparkling traits…would…rub off onto me. More of them. I… Yeah."
Sarah ducked her head, pulling her lips between her teeth, smiling just a little, cheeks still tinged pink. It seemed she was choosing to move past his mouth-faux-pas which he appreciated greatly.
"I want to believe people will understand the importance of putting their money and efforts into keeping small business in business, but you see those graphs of Cadabra's profits and it's just this line going up and up and up. Nobody cares. They want their stuff for cheap, and they want it delivered to their doorstep yesterday. And Cadabra feeds off of that like a God damn predator."
"Mhm, only to sell cheaper quality products that get cheaper and cheaper the more businesses they kill that make the same product. Because they don't have to make 'em good quality. And their prices go up once that competition is dead. Because they can. Nobody can find that product anywhere else, so now they get to do whatever the fuck they want," he said, slamming his hand on the table. "It pisses me off so badly. I see it happening right in front of my eyes, and I feel like I'm Vanna White, gesturing at the clear fuckery while prancing around in my fancy gown, and everyone's just ignoring me."
Sarah sent him a bright look, her lips scrunched into a cute little 'o'. "Hm, think they've got fancy gowns in your size, comics guy?"
"They have fancy gowns in everyone's size. Where do tall drag queens shop? I can just go there."
She laughed, and her hand slid over his, her fingers curling around his palm, squeezing. Her hand was warm from the coffee she'd been holding onto, but that wasn't the buzzing heat that rocketed up his arm, into his chest, and down through his midsection. His toes even curled in his sneakers.
Their eyes met.
Sarah slowly pulled her hand back again, picking up her coffee and taking another sip.
Just like every other time they'd touched, it left him feeling a powerful surge of want. Want for what? He wasn't exactly sure. He just felt the want inside of him, reaching out towards her. For something. For more? More than this, sitting here talking about the festival. Walking down to the marina talking about the festival. Getting coffee together…talking about the festival.
Chuck spread his fingers on the tabletop, flexing them, trying to get that sensation out, the tingling, the heat. And then he pulled both his hands into his lap, twisting them together. He spotted Sarah's eyes following his hand, and he wondered if she'd seen the whole thing.
"You're right. People seem to only care about what they want, right now, and for cheap. And they'll have a million reasons why they have no choice. And right down the block is a mom and pop store that has the same thing for only a little more expensive."
"Way better quality," he agreed, trying to get himself past the intensity of what had happened a few moments ago. "But they'd have to get off'a their butts and get in their cars to get there, go inside, buy it from another human being. Ugh, human interactions? Never."
"You are sounding like me," she said with some amusement.
"This Cadabra thing, it's just… I don't know. It's eating at my usual can-do attitude." She smirked. "It's so evil. And I try to give everybody the benefit of the doubt, I try to look at things and find the good in them, even a fucked up corporation monopoly like Cadabra, but God damn, there is nothing. They're just evil. Deeply. Destroying small businesses because they can. Because they want every single person on this earth to be forced to give them their money for everything that they need. I'm sick of that evil mindset. Small businesses are irreplaceable."
Sarah pushed up from her seat at the table and began to pace behind her chair, going back and forth between the wooden shelving against the wall and her chair.
"But we need people to see us as irreplaceable."
For some reason, that had him thinking back to when Lou broke up with him. She'd been so sure, like it was an indisputable fact, that comic books provided nothing to a person except surface level entertainment. And that it made his business lesser to one like her sandwich shop. And it wasn't even the competitive aspect of it. She did food banks, she gave to the community, and that was admirable. He would never take any of that away from her.
But to make it sound like Ashcan Comics and the comics they sold weren't important to people? Like comics couldn't make a difference?
It stung then, and it stung still.
He turned to glance up at her as she paused in her pacing, spinning to face him. "They need to leave tomorrow knowing in their gut that none of our stores, our shops…none of us are replaceable. What we do, what we can be for them, what we can provide for them, Cadabra cannot replicate it. Will not replicate it. Because they think they don't have to, the cocky sons of bitches."
Chuck raised an eyebrow at the way she finished that, basically snapping the insukt through her clenched jaw. He felt a buzz of excitement, but he ignored it, glomming onto what she was saying instead, and still thinking about Lou's parting shot a month ago.
"No. No, no. Not just us, though." He also stood up from his own chair, stepping a little closer. "Yes, we're important. The workers, the people who are passionate about what they make, what they create, what they sell… But the product is also a huge part of this, what sets us apart from something like Cadabra."
Sarah furrowed her brow in question. "But… I mean, they could recreate our product stem to stern for way less of the cost, and they'll charge less for it. That's what's gotten them into the spot they're in now, a monopoly in almost every industry. But it's us, the people who know it, who've built it, who've…curated the shelves, the comic book…bins or whatever you sell your comics out of."
He almost laughed, but he stayed on task instead. "Yes, no. I mean, yes you're right. No, I don't think I said what I meant to say…very well. At all." He shook himself, trying to think of a better way. "Our passion about the product. If I have to hear one more person talk about comic books like they're just…silly shit for kids that no one else should read, like someone's childish if they insist comics have meant something to them, I'll lose my fucking mind, Sarah."
She blinked. "You know I don't actually mean the stuff I say about your comic books. I-I'm just not interested in them, but I don't actually mean—"
"No, I know. Not you."
"—'Cause it's just me flirting, that's all."
Chuck froze for a moment. "I…don't mean you," was all he was capable of. Did she just admit to flirting with him? Out loud? His heart was absolutely racing, and he felt like he couldn't quite take a deep enough breath. He could hear himself breathing erratically as he continued. "I needed those worlds when I was a kid. When everything felt like it was crashing down around my ears and I could barely hear myself think, I'd read about Superman not-not just saving the day, but making a non-super normie feel like they could be a hero, too. Little guys who hadn't hit their growth spurt yet, like me." He poked himself in the chest. "Because of comic books, I'd go out into the world and know deep down in my core soul that I was capable of making a difference, because Superman made me feel that way. It-It isn't childish to pick up a comic book and see someone take the hard path because it's the right thing to do, and feel the impact of that in your chest."
Sarah's eyes were getting big as she watched him, her chest rising and falling at a quicker pace, the more he rambled. "Stories matter," she said breathlessly.
"They so matter. They open doors to things you thought were impossible. They-They can make you feel strong when you need strength, and-and make you feel like it's okay if some days you don't have the strength."
"Yes! Thank you!" she exclaimed with what was almost a wildness in those blue eyes of hers. "When characters really work, you can see yourself in them, in their trials, the decisions they have to make, and it helps you see a path forward for yourself."
"Yes! And holy shit, God forbid a story just be fuggin' good, am I right? Like, you pick it up, and you dive in headfirst, and you don't come up for air for a whole day, and then you look up and you realize the sun's been set, you just didn't notice, and hey, when's the last time you ate food, because the story was just that good, so much fun, or just engrossing. It doesn't have to change your life completely…" Chuck paused and she took over.
"When your parents, school, coworkers, classmates, boyfriends, the whole fucking world becomes too much to handle…"
"You just need something to pull your head out of the mire, and stick it in some other world, with fantastic characters, dragons, sea monsters, sword fights, car chases…"
"Finally…Finally, an…"
Both of their voices faded together in a sort of beautiful harmony then, speaking the same exact word in almost the same exact breathy tone: "Escape."
Chuck swung his gaze to meet hers, the breath having left his body completely.
He stepped into her and she grabbed for him, both moving at the same time, and their mouths crashed together in a cacophony of lips, teeth…
Sarah's hands were on his forearms first, yanking him into her, and then his biceps, and she grappled up to his shoulders, and finally, she wrapped one arm around said shoulders and dragged her other hand up to cup his face, pulling his mouth even harder against hers.
Chuck hugged her to him with both arms, spreading his hands on her back, then fisting her zip-up hooding in his long fingers, twisting his fingers in the material, nudging her mouth open.
Her tongue swiped over his and he heard a low rumble come from deep inside of him, almost a growl. It became a full-blown whimper when she pushed the hand cupping his jaw into his hair, twisting her own fist in his curls.
As lost as he was in her lips, the gentle nuzzling of her nose against his, the softness of her hair that escaped her braid against his eyebrows, his cheekbones, as they kissed… Chuck didn't even realize she got a grip on him and was slowly shifting them both closer to… Well, he didn't know what.
All he knew was that his back was pressed against something hard, and there was a shifting sound behind him where his shoulder pushed something a little less hard. A book? He didn't know. He didn't fucking care.
Her lips were soft and full of strength, both at the same time. The way she held him, her grip dangerously tight, and yet tender.
Chuck didn't want to stop. He wanted to keep going. The way she was pinning him to whatever was behind him…she wanted to keep going, too. God, the way she was grabbing onto his jacket with desperation, like she didn't know what else to do with her hands.
They broke the kiss long enough to suck in a few deep breaths, and he snapped his eyes open to meet her gaze again. Then he cupped her jaw in both hands and pulled her in to practically slam his lips to hers again. This time she whimpered, and a dangerously intense heat went flooding through him, originating in his midsection, or rather…a bit lower than his midsection.
Sarah was just as insatiable, grabbing at him, pawing at him, the way he was clinging to her. Tongues, lips, teeth, and then he felt her push her front against his, emitting a soft mew as she did it.
Oh, the ache he felt.
He grabbed her arm and her waist, and just like that, he turned them both and pinned her.
He heard a surprised squeak as her back made contact. Chuck paused just for a moment, pulling his lips from hers. She expelled a shaky breath, and then they were kissing again. Only this time, she was also pushing his jacket down off of his shoulders.
Chuck shook his arms out to force it the rest of the way, down his forearms, over his wrists and off. He didn't care where it landed. In fact, he kicked his foot back to get it out of the way.
Then he decided he needed more things out of the way. And she apparently was of the same mind.
As they continued their kiss, Chuck simultaneously tried to pin her lower half with his own, letting her feel how much he wanted her, and go for the button on her jeans at the same time.
He didn't realize she was also going for the front of his pants until he felt her knuckles graze his bare skin under his bellybutton, having snuck her fingers under the hem of his T-shirt.
Chuck broke the kiss just long enough to drag his lips down her jaw, down her neck, letting his teeth graze her soft skin.
Sarah shivered in his arms, tilting her head to give him more access, and at the same time, she found access. To him.
All of him.
Their fingers fumbled, not without clumsiness, as they dug, shifted, stepped out of things, as intensely desperate as they both were for one another, and neither of them stopped for a moment to wonder if they should have one another. Here. Like this. Or at all. Ever.
They took what they wanted.
Chuck took. And he gave.
He touched and felt, let the absolute ecstasy wash through him, the sensations unlike anything he'd ever felt before, her legs and arms wrapped around him, the headiness of her voice in his ear. He let himself get lost.
They held onto one another, and sought their escape.
A/N: If I got even one of you to make a sound out loud at the way this chapter ended, I'll be so ecstatic, honestly.
Review if you can! I'd appreciate it. :)
-SC