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: See? Sooner than last time.
Disclaimer: I don't own Chuck or its characters, and any similarities in this fic to any corporate entities are just coincidence... shh.
Chuck brought his hands up by his face, pinching his fingers together in a diamond shape, the points angled towards the ceiling, and he let out a deep breath while slowly bringing his hands down.
"Zen," he whispered as he brought the hands down.
He shook those hands out then.
And he took one more calming breath, before he tugged a bit at his tie, rolled his shoulders, and lifted a hand to knock.
He waited…waited…
Waited a little longer.
This was the place, right? He checked the number on the door. He'd been here before, and he remembered the turns he'd made to get here; he'd taken the exact route. And this was the right freaking place.
He was going to knock again when he heard a skittering sound inside, heels against whatever her floors were made out of. Linoleum? Vinyl, maybe?
There was the thunk of a lock, and then the door opened, revealing Sarah Walker in a vibrantly blue dress that went to her knees. The peaked cups of the dress were held up by two thin straps slung over her shoulders and he immediately forced his eyes up to her face. Oh, the dress matched her eyes, almost perfectly. And she put flirty waves into her blond hair that fell over her shoulders.
"Hi, Chuck…"
He met her gaze again, clearing his throat. And he lifted his hand to wave as he breathed "Hey, Sarah", but he realized the flowers were in that hand and he looked stupid. Crap. He thrusted them at her. "These are yours. That-That made it sound like you asked me to hold them for you and I'm giving them back now. I mean they're for you."
Sarah giggled, looking down at the flowers, and then back up at him as she gently plucked them from his fingers. Their hands brushed and he felt that ever-frequent tingling go through his arm. "Thank you. Come in, I'll find something I can keep these in. They're beautiful. What are they?"
Chuck stepped inside, moving so that she could shut the door. "Tulips."
"I love them."
"Oh, yeah? Are tulips your favorite?" He followed her as she moved to a cabinet, popping it open and taking a glass pitcher out of it, filling it with water.
"Well… Honestly, no. But these in particular are gorgeous and I love them. I've never seen tulips with this orange color and the yellow and red blended in."
He leaned his hip against the counter, watching her set the pitcher down next to him and gently unwrap the tulips from their fancy paper and bow. "I hadn't seen any flowers this pretty before and I bought them immediately. And then I tried to Google tulips to see if I could tie it into anything literary. But I knew I couldn't buy an actual physical book to do like a two-punch thematic gift because you're here which means your bookstore isn't open right now and there's no fuggin' way I'm buying a book from anyone else ever again."
She bit her lip, her hands stilling as she peered up at him, her blue eyes flashing and soft all at once. "You were gonna make this literary? Really?"
"Yeah. I found a poem about tulips. But it's Sylvia Plath and she was a very, very sad lady. I read part of the poem and I had to quit. One, because I don't get poetry, like, at all. And two, it was inappropriately, erm, bleak for…a first date situation."
"Sylvia Plath really can be like that," she said, her voice dripping with the beaming smile on her face. "You don't…have to do book things all the time where I'm concerned, Chuck. Just for the record. But the fact that you tried is kind of—" She paused, and then she shook her head. "No, strike that. It's definitely the sweetest thing anyone's ever done for me."
He blushed. "Tried to do," he corrected quietly. "I did not succeed."
"I don't care that you didn't succeed. The fact that you tried is sweet enough." She carefully slid the tulips into the pitcher and arranged them, pulling her chin away to admire them from a bit further back.
"I did Google what the colors meant."
"Oh yeah? I'm interested. What are these?"
"Luckily this isn't what you give folks in mourning. So I lucked out there. It's kind of perfect because I gave you tulips that signal admiration. And I do admire you. A lot." This time, he was sure she was the one blushing. "And it also says it's a way to tell someone you've got a crush on 'em. So this is me coming right out with it, with my orangish tulips complete with red and yellow smudges. I have a crush on you. There. Now you know."
Her chuckle was so adorably bubbly, her eyes bright as she regarded him with no small amount of warmth. "Now I know," she teased, and then she took him in, her eyes slipping down his tall lithe figure to his shoes (not sneakers!) and back up again to his face, and the hair product he used to try to tame some of the curls. "You look really good in that suit, by the way."
"Oh. Ahem." He ran a hand down the front. "Thanks. Thank you. Now that I came into some money, I can actually get this shit tailored to fit me perfectly. How 'bout that? The things you take for granted, huh?" And then he realized suddenly he'd completely forgotten something. "Oh my God. I'm so sorry. I never said—Your dress, you, you look so beautiful, Sarah." He tugged on his tie a little. "I've never seen you dressed like this so I didn't—I mean, I almost died when you opened the door in this dress. I was this close to death. Death by Dress That's Color-Matched With Your Eyes."
She laughed, putting her hand on his sleeve and leading him back out of the kitchen and into the entryway. She picked up a thick black jacket from where it was slung over a nearby chair and he helped her put it on from behind. "I'm glad you didn't die out there. I'd have to hide the body, and doing that while dressed like this? Not smart."
"Hide the body? Can't you just tell them the truth?"
"Pffft, they'd never believe it."
Chuck scoffed loudly. "Trust me, from where I'm standing, looking at you, they'd absolutely believe it and they'd even keel over themselves." He held up his hand and mimicked it keeling over, even adding sound effects: "Peeeeoooom—pbbtt."
Sarah smiled at him in a way that made him feel like this was starting off exactly right.
}o{
She leaned forward from where she sat at the table, lowering her voice. "Hey…"
Chuck looked up from his glass of likely very expensive red wine, a slice of baguette clutched in his fingers, smothered in oil and vinegar.
She couldn't play it cool about this. She'd tried for the first ten minutes of sitting at this super fancy table, surrounded by more super fancy things like candles and really comfortable chairs. The lighting was all dim and romantic, and everyone was speaking in hushed voices at the other tables.
"I, um, I Googled this place when we pulled up to it. Did you know that it's Michelin? It said three stars," she hissed, her jaw falling open. "Is that why they don't have prices listed on the menu?"
Chuck winced. "Yeeeah, that's exactly why. Heh."
"What are you up to, taking me to a three-star Michelin restaurant on the first date?" she tried to tease, but she was still staggered by the fact that she was sitting in a Michelin restaurant. She felt insane, like she was in a dream or something.
"I guess I felt like this was what you deserved. Because…y-you're Sarah Walker."
She smirked. "Mhm, right. Sarah Walker, product of a messy divorce, community college graduate, and bookseller. For sure worth a three-star Michelin experience on the first date."
"Yeah," he said adamantly. "You are worth this. You're worth a lot more than this, too, but this was the best I could find on short notice."
Sarah felt a wonderful buzzing go through her as she looked right into his face. His sincerity was overwhelming sometimes, but right now, she was doing everything she possibly could to keep from getting knocked right out of this fancy chair she was sitting in.
Her voice was quiet, in awe, when she responded. "You really believe that…" She could see he did. It was written all over his face, in his eyes, even the way he held his shoulders.
"Of course I do. I don't just go around taking women on dates to three-star Michelin restaurants." He finally took a bite out of the bread, humming at how good it tasted.
"You don't?" Again, she was doing her best to flirt, because she was knocked on her ass by him, by how highly he valued her, how much he respected her. She needed to get her footing here. "I don't know how you moneyed folks do things," she teased, making sure to widen her eyes and press her lips together so that he knew she was pulling his leg.
He chuckled, seeming amused. "Oh, us moneyed folks, huh?" He shook his head, sipping some wine and setting it down again, his tongue darting out to lick his lips in a way that made the buzzing in her feel different. She focused on the words that came out of his mouth instead. "I'm still trying to figure it out myself. You know I've only been a richie for a few years."
"Ah." She nodded, sipping her wine. She set the glass down and peered at him fondly, taking him in. A realization hit her and she decided to say what was on her mind. "I've never dated an actually rich guy before. Like, definitely not your level of wealthy, that's just super unheard of. But I mean, there was a guy I went out on a date with maybe…two years ago? He worked for a law firm downtown, but that's been it."
"Did he have one of those downtown law firm lawyer penthouses?" Chuck asked.
Oh, he opened the door and she was dragging them both through it now. She couldn't not. "I didn't see his…penthouse. Making assumptions there, huh, buddy boy?" She sipped her wine again, this time flirtatiously as she crossed her legs slowly.
Chuck's brown eyes went wide, the candle's flame dancing in them. And he cleared his throat. "N-No, I wasn't…I mean, that's not… Wow."
Sarah giggled, reaching over to pat his hand that rested on the table. "No, it's fine. I guess I get it, considering what happened against the ARC shelves in the back room of my store."
He screwed up his face and groaned, hanging his head.
She laughed a little harder. And he gave her a bit of a glare, smiling underneath it. When she sobered up a little, she continued. "You know, you really didn't have to take me to someplace this fancy. You're already pretty impressive. The way you run your shop, the way you singlehandedly pull people in with your charm, and they come back over and over… In this fight against Cadabra, you've been impressive. The figure you're cutting in that suit is impressive." Now she had him blushing, which was her goal all along. And she added the final touch: "And you were pretty impressive this last weekend."
Chuck's jaw just about fell into his lap. "Wow. Really? You're gonna whip that out right now? Here? At this very fancy expensive restaurant? Have you no shame?"
He was flirting back now. Finally. She thought maybe they were both becoming more comfortable now. The air was a little shy and tentative for a while between them when she first opened her door and found him standing there in the hallway looking sinfully handsome, hot even, in his suit and tie.
"Should I have a little more shame? In this very fancy expensive restaurant?" Sarah tilted her head, taking a particularly crunchy bite out of her bread, taking her time chewing it.
"No. None at all," he breathed, and a slow smile tilted at his beautiful mouth. He leaned over the table a little. "I haven't stopped thinking about Saturday night. And-And Sunday. Like, it's constantly there, in my mind. It's been distracting the crap outta me, if I can be completely honest with you."
Well, that felt fantastic. Almost as fantastic as those twenty-four hours or so had felt. She didn't know how those signs had gotten finished with how much time she'd spent wrapped up with him in her bed. Not just having sex, though that'd been most of it, but lying face to face talking, about anything, everything, watching him light up while talking about television shows she'd never heard of, regaling her with stories of getting into trouble with Morgan when they were teenagers, and then there'd been the deeply comfortable silence, embracing, fingers stroking along her back, her arms, thighs, warm breath fanning against her hair, her skin.
She didn't know how the simplest things had gotten so rooted inside of her, deep in her core, but they had. "I can't stop thinking about it, either," she admitted. "I almost put a copy of Dune in current affairs today because I was thinking about it, about you."
Chuck snorted. "You know, if I found a copy of Dune in current affairs, my response would probably be something like, 'That's fair.'" He shrugged.
Sarah giggled. "I know the general plot and themes but I've never read it."
"Really?!" He gasped. "Oh, you gotta! Especially because you're such a big fan of the classics. To me, there's no better sci-fi classic than Dune. Herbert was ahead of his time, the way Tolkien was for the fantasy genre. I think you'd really like it."
"So…what you're saying is Dune has the potential to be the one book that you and I have both read?"
"That possibility is there! You have but one choice: to read it." He reached his arms out to either side, excitement in his face. "I'll read my copy, too! It's been a few years. We'll have a book club!"
Sarah giggled, deeply enamored with this freaking nerd. "I've never been great with reading science fiction. But you know what? I'm gonna give Dune a whirl."
"Yesssss!" He pumped his fist, bouncing a little in his chair. He looked like such an adorable little boy, she could kiss him.
He just enjoyed life with this wonder-filled fullness that left her breathless sometimes. And she couldn't help wondering if Chuck Bartowski wasn't one of the best things to happen to her health in a while. Emotional, mental…and certainly physical. She had every intention of putting that to the test again later tonight.
No damn way was this night ending without it. She was adamant.
And if she hadn't already been adamant, the extreme nature of the combination of crunchy outside and fluffy cloud-like inside on this bread would've tipped her over. And the wine? Done. She didn't even need the entré she'd ordered.
The man was feeding her right into bed.
And while she didn't think that was his primary goal, she wasn't naive enough to think he hadn't at least thought about it. He was a red-blooded straight man and it had been a few days since they'd touched each other like that.
Shit, she was a red-blooded straight woman, and she felt the space between Sunday and today. Acutely. Hence why she was almost putting books back in the wrong places.
"Thank you, by the way. I don't know that I ever properly thanked you for all of your help with the signs on Sunday. There were more than I bargained for and you helped a lot. I didn't say thank you."
Chuck pulled his lips back between his teeth and narrowed his eyes, humming doubtfully. "I feel like you did say thank you. A lot."
She gave him a surprised look, unable to keep from blushing. "Okay. A little bold, Mister Bartowski, but I don't…not like it." He just smiled at her, his eyes sparkling deliciously. She smirked. "I meant saying thank you with my mouth."
But she realized how that sounded belatedly and it was clear he'd heard it, too, with the way his smile widened, his face wrinkling up as if he was trying so hard not to comment on that. He lost the battle, though: "You did that, too."
"Annnnd there it is," she drawled flatly, laughing.
"You set it up."
"I did. 'Twas foolish of me to hope you wouldn't…"
"Wouldn't what?"
Okay, so he was really feeling himself right now. And she was really liking it.
"I'm not going to answer that."
"Why?"
She glanced up over his shoulder at the waiter approaching. "Because our food is coming."
Chuck blinked and cracked up, the waiter sliding up to the table and setting their respective entrés down.
Sarah looked at the food in her plate and nearly melted right there at the sight of it. She'd never seen tortellini look so beautiful before in her life. Just a hint of sauce gathered at the bottom of the wide, shallow bowl, the garnish perfectly set in the center.
She'd never been to a fancy restaurant like this before, but still, she knew better than to ask for more cheese. But God, this would taste so good smothered in fine Italian pecorino romano or something like that.
And pepper.
It smelled like it cost a million bucks, though. And she smiled and thanked the waiter, waiting for him to walk away before she leaned over her bowl and took a good sniff. "Oh my fucking God, I've never smelled anything this good."
Her date chuckled and she felt ridiculous. But then he leaned in and stuck his nose out towards her plate. "Wait, lift that up a little. I think my pasta's smell is blocking your pasta's smell." He moved his own plate to the side and she giggled, lifting her own towards him, outright laughing when he did a dog-like sniff at the air. "Aw man. Yours smells better than mine," he whined comically, hitting her with a wink.
Damn it, she just liked him so much. She set her plate back down, and he did the same. Then she set to eating, and God, neither of them could say a word for a good few minutes, the only sounds coming out of their mouths being hums of enjoyment, and in Sarah's case, an outright moan. She was almost humiliated by it, how it just escaped from the center of her chest the moment the explosion of flavors touched her tongue. Was that a hint of truffle? She thought so. Dear God.
But then Chuck set all of his silverware down, picked his cloth napkin up out of his lap, and put it on the table, cutting his hands through the air. "That's it. I can't. I can't eat anymore. This is too good. It's too good. My tastebuds aren't worthy."
Sarah laughed. "Okay, so I'm not the only one."
"No, this is insane. Nothing should be this good. It's sorcery."
"You might be onto something," she chuckled, and then she pushed her bowl a little closer to him. "This has truffles, I think. You should try it."
Chuck gaped at her even as he reached his fork over to spear a tortellini. "They put chocolate in the sauce? No wonder it tastes so good!" he hissed.
It took Sarah a second to figure out what in the hell he was talking about, and when she did, she sent him a warm, affectionate smile. "Not chocolate truffles, Chuck. Truffles like the fancy expensive mushrooms."
He'd just put the tortellini in his mouth and now that her words computed, he hung his head, embarrassed. "How is it possible for me to have such a fantastic taste in my mouth at the same time as feeling a deep, deep shame that I went to chocolate truffles first?"
Giggling, she reached across the table and gently smoothed her fingers over his hair. "It's just me here, don't worry."
"Oh, it's just you?" He lifted his head and sent her a dubious look, her fingers still in his curls. She didn't really want to take them away at the moment. "There is no just about you, Sarah Walker. Why do you think I brought you here?"
He made it seem so easy, the way he said such wonderful shit, with all of that sincerity of his, looking right at her. She wanted to crawl under the table and flop onto the floor in a heap…just melt there.
"Well, you've got the right idea, at least."
He tilted his head in question, then gently pushed his plate towards her as well, wiggling his eyebrows suggestively. He was being a doofus, and yet that stupid eyebrow thing made her feel a bit of heat rise up from the cups of her dress.
She poked her fork into two rigatonis and brought them back to set them in her bowl. The sauces didn't match, but she didn't care. She kept her focus on him as she continued.
"If you're gonna bring someone to a three-star Michelin restaurant for a first date, make it a girl who grew up poor and is still pretty poor. She isn't gonna knock ya for mistaking the mushroom truffles for the chocolate ones." She giggled through her nose, her shoulders bouncing, and then she tasted his food and moaned. "Oh, you misled me. You said mine smelled better but this tastes like…" She put another one in her mouth and moaned. "I've entered into another universe in which the world is a beautiful utopia where everyone has housing and healthcare and a job and is happy and no one is horrific to anyone else and Cadabra never came into existence."
Chuck laughed, rocking back against his chair, the sound lifting her higher than most things in her life did, even the great things in her life. And she was starting to think he was a great thing in her life. One of the best things? Yes, one of the best things.
"Now, Sarah…We'll have none of that sexy talk while we're sitting in public, that's not fair," he teased, pointing at her with his fork.
Her jaw fell open and she just barely bit back a loud, barking laugh, clamping her mouth shut again and giving him a wide-eyed look. She wanted to flirt back, so she waited for him to gleefully sip his wine and set it down again before she slipped her fingers over his hand that was wrapped around the stem of his glass, her fingertips stroking the back of his hand in a significant manner.
"Was it the everyone having healthcare thing, or was it Cadabra not existing that did it?" She made her voice deep and quiet, and then she bit her lip at him, raising an eyebrow.
"Hnnng." He left his fork in his plate and made a fist with his hand, pulling it up to bite his teeth down on his knuckles, his face wrinkling up cutely.
Her giggle was so bubbly and happy. She heard it so clearly, and she felt it so sincerely. This was filling her up in the best way. All of it. The wine, the food, the Chuck Bartowski. "Don't bite down too hard on that hand. You're gonna need it later…"
Chuck dropped his fist and gave her a delicious look that clearly read, Oh yeah? What for?
And she delivered the punch line on dime: "To pay the check."
He was the one to bark out a laugh, and it didn't seem to disturb any of the others who were dining, in spite of the low key, hushed atmosphere. She didn't care, anyway. Let them glare if they wanted to. She was so distinctly pleased with herself that she got Chuck Bartowski to laugh like that.
He leaned in over their food, thankfully having the sense to hold his tie against his chest so that it didn't plop into his pasta. His brownish amber eyes were glittering in a pretty lovely way, but what he said was what actually sent her to another stratosphere. "I really like you a lot, Sarah Walker."
"You must, taking me to a place that's probably a hundred bucks per plate." As smooth as her mouth had been, her insides were going wild. "Which is not a bad way to get a girl to like you back, I'll say that much." He smiled at her for that. "But for the record, I liked you a whole lot before I put one of these sinfully delicious tortellinis in my mouth." She popped another one between her lips just to emphasize what she was saying, smiling around her chewing.
"I'd hoped that was the case, but I'm just covering my bases I guess."
"Hundred dollars a place is quite the cover. That's teflon levels of cover," she flirted, picking up her wine to sip it.
He chuckled then shrugged a bit cockily. "I can afford it."
Sarah hummed, smirking at him. "Hmmmm. I've never seen you get cocky over your exorbitant wealth before."
He blushed a little. "Oh, I-I don't usually. I was attempting to flir—"
"I like it," she cut in, lifting her chin and sending him a bit of a challenging look.
Chuck snorted, lifting his eyebrows in a bit of a scoff, cradling his nearly empty wine glass in his grip and tilting it back and forth, watching the liquid slosh one way, then the other. She watched it too for a moment, then lifted her eyes to his face again. "I shouldn't be cocky about it. I haven't earned it. It was just…dropped into my lap."
She frowned and shook her head. "That isn't the way I see it."
"No?"
"Mm mm." Sarah sipped more wine and set the glass down, leaning her elbows on the table to shift her torso closer to him. She needed him to pay attention, and he definitely was. That said, she didn't miss the way his eyes dropped to her cleavage for a split second before he quickly rushed his gaze back to her face politely. She held back a smirk, not wanting to embarrass him. "Your uncle seemed to think you'd earned it, you and Ellie both. Otherwise he never would've trusted you two with his fortune and his company. Those two things tied together, that's his legacy. The Volkoff brand, the Volkoff legacy. He entrusted you two with that and someone who built a corporate empire the way he built up Volkoff Industries doesn't do things lightly. He wrote you both into his will to be his main inheritors with purpose, clear-eyed, his head squarely on his shoulders. So yeah, you earned it."
The comic book shop owner regarded her for a long while, and then he smiled slowly, his eyes soft. "Thank you for saying that." He swallowed hard, looking down at his half eaten meal for a moment, and then he looked back up at her through his eyelashes. "It isn't the same as building a company and a fortune from scratch with hard work and smart decisions over the years, but I guess it's a different kind of…earning it, huh?"
"Exactly." She raised an eyebrow. "You did build that comic book shop from scratch with hard work and smart decisions. Don't forget that. It's a successful business in its own right. And we aren't letting those fuckshits at Cadabra take it away from you."
"Or you, Miss Castle in the Air Bookstore," he said, eating another noodle, his eyes glimmering.
"I'll set their shit on fire first."
"If you do that, I'll bail you out. I'm pretty rich, you know…"
"Oh, thanks," she chuckled. "Appreciate that."
"Of course. I'm not letting you rot in a prison, Sarah. I need you out here. I need my neighbor working away at that bookstore. It's good for my business," he said with a wink. "And, uh… there's also the fact that I'm hoping for another date after this one. You did say you owed me a dinner that one time."
"I did say that." She felt glee, utter glee, in her chest. "I'm relieved that you aren't counting this, because that'd mean you're expecting me to foot the bill for this."
"No!"
"That's good. I was going to excuse myself to go to the bathroom and get a ride share the hell outta here," she teased, making him laugh.
"Wouldn't be the first time a girl walked out on a dinner with me."
Sarah froze, her jaw falling open. "Not really. Someone did that to you?"
"Just the one time. Most of them wait 'til the end to be like 'ehhhh no thank you'. It was totally fine, though, because the food was fire, it was so good, but the company was really bad. We just were not clicking. What's the opposite of clicking? Because it was that."
"…Clacking?"
They laughed together.
"I do owe you a dinner," she said, nodding. "It won't be a three-star Michelin, but I'll pick something tasty. And maybe, um, a little less formal. But feel free to wear that suit anyway." She winked at him, running her eyes over the parts of him she could see.
"You like it?" He tugged at it and then ran a hand down his tie proudly. It was so cute she felt like she might die. "I just bought it. My old suits from my Volkoff Industries CEO days were kind of tugging in the wrong places. Captain Awesome has been drill sergeant-ing me since then and I think I actually have muscles. Not that you can really tell, I'm still super lanky."
"Oh, I can tell," she said, biting her lip again. "I really do like you in that suit. You wear it well."
"You're making a really good case for me showing up to the shop in a suit every so often. Maybe I'll pop in and help you put away some books." He did an eyebrow dance, making her giggle. "Oh, no. This Merriam-Webster dictionary is on the bottom shelf. I guess I have to bend down to put it away…" He smoldered at her and turned in his chair, bending his torso forward, pretending to slip a book onto a shelf. She outright laughed, shaking her head at him.
This was much, much more than she had been prepared for. Not that she'd been prepared for any of this when she decided to pick the Victoria Shopping Center as the place where she'd start this new adventure of hers, opening her dream bookstore. The wrong-footing she'd gotten off on with her neighbor aside, he'd become this steadying, warm presence for her. And that warmth had blossomed into a heat. Less blossomed and more…burned.
She was in deep; in over her head, most likely, but she was going with it. This felt too damn good not to.
"You wear that suit on Saturday to the protest, and I might have another thing to protest." He raised an eyebrow in curiosity. "I can't be getting the vapors out there with people marching around. I'll end up passed out on the floor and I'll get stampeded." She made a face as he chuckled happily. "Nope. I've spent way too much time with you. I'm not supposed to be the one saying corny shit like that. That's supposed to be you."
"Hey. Ex-squeeze me…" They both laughed. "Aren't you the one who said the crop circles thing would make you end the date? You're veering dangerously close…"
"I am not. Shut up," she giggled.
She glared at him over the rim of her wine glass.
He sobered up a little then, eating more of his food. "Anyway, I won't be there in a suit. I'm afraid I won't be there at all." He winced.
Sarah did a double-take. "Be where? You mean at the protest? What?" What the hell? After all of this planning?
"Yeah." He nodded, frowning deeply. "I can't go."
"But that's crazy. It was your idea in the first place. And now we're all gonna be out there protesting for hours in front of the warehouse and you're not showing up? Why?"
She set down her wine and her fork, leaning in closer, needing an answer.
"I know. I know it was my idea. And you can't even begin to understand how badly I wanna be there holding up one of your signs and-and yelling at those assholes… But it's better that I'm not there… Not right now."
"I don't get it. That doesn't make any sense," she argued, shaking her head. She wasn't sure why she felt the sting of this so acutely, but she did. They'd had plans. That Sunday they spent together, when they weren't wrapped up in bed exploring new heights, when they'd actually been working on slogans and the signs, he'd been so excited. He'd been so into it. "You said you were super ready for Saturday. Like, you were talking to me about your fingers and toes tingling you were so excited, and it was freaking adorable. What changed?"
"Something…important's come up. But it's—I don't know. I'm-I'm doing something that's maybe big…and it's really important that it's done right."
"What is more important than protecting our livelihoods, Chuck?"
"No, it's—That's what the big important thing is about." He lowered his voice, leaning in close as well. "But I can't say it right now. Just in case. Like I said, it has to be perfect, everything has to go right."
"But this protest is our only chance to get people's eyes on our cause. You're…the de facto leader of this cause, basically. What do we do without our leader there on Saturday?" She was actually really upset now. And she didn't know if it was fair to be this upset. She just was. She wanted him there. She needed him there. "We all need you there, Chuck."
"I need to be there, too. It's—I can't be, that's all. It's more important…that I'm not there."
"Listen, people have been bending over backwards to make Saturday a reality. This protest is everything for us. These shops, these stores, they're our whole lives. We don't pay rent or eat or make car payments, or-or feed our kids, or whatever else, without them. And I know it's different for you because you have a huge safety net—" She stopped herself, immediately feeling like an asshole.
Chuck's brow furrowed and he looked down at his plate, picking up the wine bottle and silently pouring more for himself.
"I'm sorry," she said quietly. "That was uncalled for. It isn't true. I know that comic book shop is so important to you."
"It's everything I've ever dreamed of since I was a kid. But… you're right. I have money. If I lose that shop, it-it'll break my heart but I'll still have Uncle Alexei's fortune."
"Still, I shouldn't have said that. I don't…know what came over me. I'm upset you won't be there. That's all. It isn't an excuse for being mean. Whatever it is you have to do, I'm sure you wouldn't do it if it wasn't important."
She didn't like that he wasn't talking to her, though. She didn't like that he wasn't saying anything about what this "big important" thing was.
"There are…potential consequences if this doesn't come off, and—Shit, I can't say right now." He leaned in, a bit of desperation in his handsome features. "Please trust me for now."
Sarah nodded and then she went back to her food. Why was it "please trust me"? Why didn't he just tell her? Did he not trust her with whatever it was? And what kind of beginning to a relationship was this if he didn't?
She sat there, still enjoying the flavors but not quite as much as she had before this miniature skirmish of theirs. And she didn't look up at him even though she felt his gaze on her.
This was a beginning of something more than just friendship. They were on their first date, they'd had sex, they'd shared things with one another. She'd held him in those early morning hours after he told her everything about his parents disappearing and the horrible true crime TV show that had stalked him and Ellie for years.
But why wasn't he talking to her about whatever was going on with him?
}o{
Chuck was literally dying inside.
But Vivian had been crystal clear. He had to be careful. He had to tread very carefully, everywhere he went. Cadabra wasn't above spying. They weren't above criminality. And if they found even the smallest reason they could use to go to court, they would do everything in their power to eviscerate Chuck himself and Volkoff Industries. In other words, thousands of people and their jobs were on the line.
And Chuck knew this restaurant had a reputation. The people who came here often enough weren't people he'd likely recognize, even after being CEO of Volkoff Industries for a year, and being its owner for longer. But they might recognize him.
And if he raised his voice even just a little, and they heard anything, this whole plot was sunk. And their businesses would be even worse off than before, because Cadabra would have a vendetta this time.
So he waited for the entrés to be eaten, for the bottle of wine to be drained, and he accepted the dessert menu. Sarah was right to be upset, and he could see it in her. Sure, that crack had hurt a lot, but she'd apologized immediately. He believed her that she didn't actually think that about him. That he was willing to let this all go south more than everyone else because he had his wealth no matter what happened to their businesses.
He didn't begrudge her being mad at him.
Everything she said was right—this was huge for everyone, and he had been so stoked about it, planning it with her, coming up with slogans, making signs. This would have big consequences… but the consequences of his and Vivian's and their V.I. Lawyers' plan not being executed perfectly down to the very last detail were much steeper.
For Victoria Shopping Center, too.
Maybe for them especially.
Cadabra would steamroll them, just out of spite. That was the kind of man Frezos was, Vivian insisted. He believed her.
The restaurant was packed. The tables were closer together than he preferred. And he was probably being paranoid, but their lawyers insisted it was better to be paranoid and careful about his actions from this point forward than not while they were navigating this plan.
Sarah was at least smiling again as they picked out a dessert to share.
And she even quipped, "You and your truffle mess made me really want chocolate. Thanks for humoring me."
"Please," he insisted. "If there's a chocolate thing on the menu, I'm gonna gravitate towards that."
She smiled. "Good man."
The dessert came quickly, thank God, as he didn't know if they could keep up with small talk. Flirting was off the table for now. His upcoming absence at the protest had lent a sour taste to things, it seemed.
They each ate half of the dessert, conversation sparse, mostly focusing on how good it tasted, and then he paid the bill. There was a time in his life when paying this much for a dinner date would put him six feet under. Looking at his bank account before Uncle Alexei's passing, he would've seen a smaller number than the one on the check for this one dinner. Two entrés. One dessert. One bottle of wine.
"Thanks for not showing me that check, by the way," she said as they made their way out onto the sidewalk. The lightness in her voice sounded forced to him and it was upsetting. They just had to get to the car.
He doubted Cadabra had bugged his freaking car. They had no idea what was coming for them. Nobody knew except for him, Vivian, and their lawyers. Soon, the rest of the board would hear about it as well, and they'd have to vote about whether to proceed or not.
This was all moving so quickly, but it had to. They had no choice. Cadabra was moving quickly. Martha had spotted contractors there the other day and she'd texted Chuck immediately, peeved to no end.
"I'd probably pass out if I saw it. I imagine it was about as much as one day's sales when Castle in the Air was going through a really bad time before that festival put my store on the map."
When they got to his car, Chuck checked both ways over his shoulder, then ushered Sarah to the passenger's side, unlocking and opening the door, helping her in. He held up a finger for her to wait, glancing around again, and then he gently shut her door and dashed around the car to the driver's side, practically diving in behind the wheel and shutting the door again, hitting the button to lock the doors.
}o{
Sarah heard the thunk of the doors locking and she sat there, perfectly still, waiting for him to move or…something. When he did move, it was to whip around, twisting his torso to look in the backseat of the car. And then he flipped his visor down, running his fingers along it, before he reached over to do the same to visor in front of her.
"What…is happening?" she asked haltingly, eyes wide.
"We're clear."
"O…kay. Clear from…what?"
What in the hell was going on? Had he taken cocain in the restaurant bathroom when he left to use it after they finished dessert? God, if he was the type of guy who snorted lines off of public restroom sinks, hiding under the guise of a cute nerd with a huge heart, she'd be in bigger trouble than she'd bargained for.
He turned on his car. "Can I take you somewhere?"
"Um…" She licked her lips. "You're acting a little bit like a serial killer so I'm not sure I should say yes to anything besides you taking me home."
Chuck laughed, leaning forward to gently drop his forehead against the steering wheel with a soft thump. "God, I am so sorry." When he picked his head back up and turned to look at her, she saw the Chuck she'd grown so fond of back in his demeanor. "I can take you home. I'll do that if you want me to. I couldn't say it in there and I needed to know I could…here. Gah, I dunno, I'm aware of how paranoid I'm being."
Concern was bumped to the forefront of her emotions just like that, and she reached out to curl her fingers around his wrist. "Chuck, what's wrong? Is it about that important thing keeping you from going to the protest?" Something terrible occurred to her. "Oh God, it isn't Volkoff Industries, is it? Is the company okay? Are you? Is something crazy going down over there?" Were they being busted by the FTC or something?
He shook his head vehemently. "No, no. Shit, I'm sorry. I know I made you upset. I know the fact that I'm not going on Saturday is shitty. I feel shitty about it. I wanted to be there, I really did. I can't. And-And the reason I didn't tell you why in the restaurant is because—Well, it isn't that I didn't want you to know," he said, rubbing his hand up and down his thigh.
Chuck reached over to turn on the car heater, and then he buckled his seatbelt and put the car in drive, skillfully scooting it out of the parallel parking spot and easing it onto the street.
Sarah waited with bated breath, staring at him, frozen.
"Volkoff Industries is okay. I'm okay. It's just that I've sort of concocted something that's huge if it works and if it doesn't work, it's also huge but in a very bad way that could be detrimental to me and the company. I sat down with Vivian McArthur—she's the CEO I assigned to the job when I stepped down—and a bunch of our lawyers, especially the ones who are, um, good with real estate…"
Sarah felt her eyes widen even further, her lips parting. "…Real estate?"
"Yeah. Ahem." He ran a hand down his tie as he drove, the streetlights playing over his face. "I didn't tell you in the restaurant, and I'm sorry, but that place is three-star Michelin. When a joint is hundreds of dollars per plate, Geoff Frezos and his ilk are really the only ones you'll find eating there. I-I guess that includes me too now." He winced. "And I don't want them to see me or hear me talking about this. All of this could be royally fucked if our machinations got back to Cadabra."
The bookstore owner gaped. She was trying to make sense of this in her mind. And as the pieces were falling into place, she found a bubbly giggle spilling through her lips. "You didn't tell me why you're skipping the protest because you thought there might be…Cadabra spies at the restaurant? …Is that what you're saying?"
Chuck screwed up his face in a wince and nodded.
Oh, the dear sweet adorable idiot. She was crazy about him. She found herself chuckling, shaking her head. "Chuck. Oh my God."
"Look, our lawyers told me to be very careful, okay?!" he argued defensively. "That's all I'm doing."
And here she thought, after all they'd been through in the past few months, the undeniable attraction (they'd tried so hard to deny it, though), the way this thing between them brimmed with respect for one another…she thought he didn't trust her with something that was big enough to keep him from attending the protest he'd hatched and had been so excited for.
Instead, he was worried spies would hear him.
He was ridiculous. She was ridiculously crazy about him.
She let out a long breath and shook her head, and then she turned slowly to look at him.
"You…" She bit her lip and winced. "You can take me to that…somewhere, wherever it is you wanted to take me."
"You don't want to go home?"
"I did, but I don't anymore."
She said it like it was that simple.
The last half hour or so she'd been convinced the man she wanted to be with didn't trust her enough to tell her a "big, important thing". And it had hurt. She'd wanted to go home and sit and think about it. Or, more realistically, because she was who she was, read a book and completely block it all out of her head. That was her favorite defense against shit that hurt.
But she was wrong; not that he'd done much to convince her otherwise.
"I apologize for being such an asshole in the restaurant, Chuck," she said then, realizing she needed to make clear that she was sorry. Again. "I don't have any sort of excuse. I'm just sorry." She looked right at his profile as he drove. "Will you forgive me?"
"Yes," he said immediately, looking back at her, a slow, crooked smile awakening in his handsome face. He pulled to a red light and the car stilled. "I get it. People say shit they don't mean when they're feeling things. I guess it's kind of nice I can make you feel things enough to make you say shit you don't mean." He furrowed his brow, his mouth gaping for a moment as she raised her eyebrows. "I don't…know if what I just said was something I should've said out loud."
Sarah giggled. "We're having a serious conversation; can you please not be so fucking cute?"
"Sure. And hey, I forgive you for the thing you said at dinner. Do you forgive me for acting like a serial killer for a bit?" He grit his teeth and wrinkled his nose in embarrassment.
She giggled again. "Of course I forgive you, but what the hell was the thing with the visors anyway?"
"Oh." He shrugged. "Um, you know, in case they stuck…bugs on them. Y'know, to listen in on my conversations with people."
Sarah gawked at him for a long moment. "Chuck. Do you really think Cadabra is putting bugs in your car? Like we're in some spy novel?" He looked miserably embarrassed and she felt a spike of guilt. "O-Okay, you know what?" She slid her hand over his free hand where it rested on his leg and she squeezed it. "Your big-time lawyer people at Volkoff Industries who know a lot better than I do told you to be paranoid and that is exactly what you're doing. I really can't fault you for that."
Chuck let out a huff. "I'm being a lot."
"Sort of. But that's okay. We got our apologies out of the way. So…tell me. There are no bugs in the visors or the backseat." He sent her a flat look and she supposed she kind of deserved it. "What's all this about? Why can't you go to the protest on Saturday?"
Her date pointed his car up the hills that looked down over Los Angeles, winding through the streets with houses that got more and more extravagant and expensive the higher he drove. "I can't do any of the things that potentially put me at the tip of the spear in our battle against the evil Cadabra. I can't be seen as being a part of any of that. Not for a while."
Sarah frowned, shaking her head. And she stayed quiet for a while, letting it all ruminate in her head, until he finally slid onto a dirt path between some trees. Wherever they were going, at least she wasn't going there with a serial killer, or a coke head. She didn't know what he was going to tell her, but she could handle it, because he was telling her. He trusted her.
And she was going to have to trust him back.
A/N: Apologies to Vivian for misspelling her last name earlier on in this fic. Pretty sure I did. Oops. Too lazy to go back and fix that.
Thanks for reading! Please review if you can.
-SC