Castle in the Air
By Steampunk . Chuckster
Summary: Sarah has opened her dream bookstore just before the holiday season, but when a corporate monopoly announces their reduced-price brick-and-mortar is going in a block away, she must band together with her fellow small businesses to fight for their lives, even if it means getting past a slew of bad first impressions to work with Chuck, the owner of the comic book shop next door. AU Charah.
A/N: Thanks for still being here, folks.
Disclaimer: I don't own Chuck or its characters, and any similarities in this fic to any corporate entities are just coincidence... shh.
He stepped out onto his second floor balcony, leaving the sliding door open behind him, and he walked to the railing, leaning his elbows on it, bringing his mug of hot coffee with a splash of rum to his lips.
After the day they'd all had, he felt like it was necessary.
Chuck had eaten dinner alone tonight, driving through a fast food Mexican spot and eating half of the insanely massive burrito he'd ordered, wrapping the other half up for later. The thing had been as big as his head.
And now it was after eight and he was… well, still alone.
Chuck was doing his very best not to be a complete and utter sad sack over it. Especially because he knew why he was alone tonight, and he understood it implicitly. He understood Sarah implicitly. And he knew he'd do the same if he were in her shoes.
Still, he'd hoped he'd be on a date right about now.
The reason why he wasn't on a date right about now was because a trashy mother fucker by the name of Daniel Shaw pushed into Castle in the Air Bookstore, smirked his smirkish bullshit for a while…and planted a listening device under her front counter to spy on her bookstore, to spy on her business practices, on her salesmanship, on whatever else she had that Cadabra could learn from.
He saw red again as he reminded himself of that.
Chuck knew he'd be a lot less furious if Shaw had stuck that bug under his comic book shop's counter instead of the counter in Sarah's bookstore. And it wasn't just that they were dating now. Even if they weren't, even if he didn't have this massive crush on her, he'd be absolutely furious over it. Because nobody should be placed in such a dangerous, uncomfortable situation—the intrusion of privacy alone was rage-inducing.
Casey had spoken to an old detective buddy of his and told Sarah she had grounds to press charges, only they'd need proof Daniel Shaw was the one who planted it or it would come to nothing. Sarah had no cameras. There were fingerprints on the bug but most likely everyone's fingerprints were there and nothing concrete could be retrieved, Casey'd explained.
Chuck had quietly felt like an idiot for manhandling the freaking thing so much. Like he'd ruined evidence or something. But he and Sarah had been so shocked, so pissed off, neither of them could be blamed for not being more careful.
But then Sarah had texted him, asking him to pop into her store when he was free. He'd immediately showed up at her door, she'd unlocked and opened it for him, and she'd promptly given him a look that had made him brace for disappointment.
Her blue eyes were dimmer than usual, the inner corners of her eyebrows turned up, and she wore a frown that made him feel like holding onto the edge of the nearest shelf to prepare himself for what was coming.
"What's wrong?" he asked when she didn't speak for a good twenty or so seconds.
"I'm just tired." She huffed and rolled her eyes at herself, cutting a hand through the air, shaking her head. "That's true. I am tired. But that isn't what's…wrong." He inherently moved a little closer to her, concerned. He was still somewhat shaken by the bug they'd found, now that some of the anger had ebbed, the distraction of running the comic book shop next door helping over the last few hours.
"So what is?" He reached up to gently tuck her hair away from her forehead and behind her ear, his thumb tenderly stroking her cheek. "You can talk to me, Sarah."
"Yeah," she said, smiling softly. "I know I can." Sighing, she glanced over at the door. "I'm having a hard time moving past, um, Shaw and that listening device. The bug. I mean, the fact that I could press charges for what he did is sitting heavy in my gut. Like, that makes it feel worse, more serious. I'm not going to."
"Press charges?"
She shook hr head. "Mm. But I do want to find a lawyer just in case. I need to talk to a lawyer." There seemed to be something else on the tip of her tongue but she bit it back and gave a small head shake, hugging herself, shivering.
"Well, I…don't want to overstep or anything, but if you need help with the lawyer thing, please tell me. I can help. If-If you want me to. And only if you want me to."
Sarah raised her eyebrows at him, smirking. "Man, I really got you with that advertising signs lining the busy streets lecture I unfairly gave you, huh?"
That made him laugh. "No. I just listen when you tell me things."
She melted back against the counter, her smile widening. "Mmhm. The first person I ever met who does."
Chuck wasn't sure how to respond to that, but he didn't have to when she hurried on.
"I'll let you know if I'm struggling to find a lawyer. I just need some advice, that's all." She gestured around the store. "Anyway, if—on the very off chance—Cadabra isn't kicked out of Del Rey, I need to know how to protect my assets as best as I can. Business-wise and…law-wise. I should stay on top of that." But then she frowned even more, lowering her chin and sending him a wince, looking up at him through her eyelashes almost shyly. "But my point being…um, I think I'm too…frazzled and out of it to be the kind of company you deserve tonight. Our date, I mean."
There it was.
Damn.
"It wouldn't be fair," she said quickly, sliding one hand over the back of his neck and picking up his hand with the other, as if she saw the disappointment in him. "Not to either of us, honestly, but especially not to you. I wanna be all there if we're on a date and I just know I won't be. Not tonight. Not with fucking Shaw ruining the day and…the bug thing. I still don't know how to wrap my head around that. He planted a bug in my store. He was trying to spy on me." She glanced off to the side, her face twisted up in confusion. "I mean, what the fuck? Are we on some kind of HBO show?"
"The Wire was one of the greatest TV shows ever made." She sent him a slightly amused look and he winced. "That's not the point you're making. Sorry. Listen, I wish—Well, I wish I could convince ya not to let Shaw get under your skin like this, but I know I can't, I have no right to, and I understand. Not going out tonight, I mean. I get it."
Sarah bit her lip, looking upset. "I'm sorry. I hate that I'm doing this. I just don't wanna go out with you and be completely…spaced out, thinking about the listening device and Cadabra and Shaw instead of paying attention to you. It's a respect thing, ya know?" She rubbed the back of his neck. "You don't go on a date with someone even though you know you won't be all there, not when you respect 'em the way I respect you."
That made him grin, in spite of feeling a slight ache of longing in his chest. "Hey, I understand. Seriously, I do. I feel like I need to put on the record, though, I wouldn't feel disrespected if we did go out and you were still dwelling on all of today's shit. In fact, I'd…" He glanced out of her store, not seeing anyone out there who'd spot their PDA. And he continued: "…do my best to distract you." Then he leaned in and pressed a warm kiss to her lips.
She hummed and he felt her smile against his mouth.
When they broke the kiss, she beamed up at him. "I'm sure you would. Still, I…"
"I get it," he chuckled, nodding. And maybe she didn't want to hurt his feelings—not that she would but she couldn't know that—but he had a sense she maybe wanted to have some alone time to deal with the implications of her store being literally bugged by their powerful corporate would-be competitor.
He understood that, too.
"But we're gonna do a rain check, right?" he asked, raising his eyebrows.
"Once this protest is over and done with, we're going to have the second date-iest second date ever."
"I don't know what that means but I think it's good?" he chuckled.
"Second dates typically mean the first went well and that's when you really start getting down to the nitty-gritty, you know?" she explained with an adorable one shoulder shrug.
"You're freaking cute, oh my God," he drawled, bending his knees and making an aching little noise in the back of his throat. "Is that what second dates are for? The nitty-gritty?"
"Shut up, oh my God."
"Are we gonna do the nitty-gritty? Like what's the nitty-gritty process if you've already slept with the dude?"
"Go back to your fucking comic books," she commanded, pulling away from him and pointing at his shop as she went back around to the computer side of the counter. "Get out," she added, humor reflecting in every fibre of her being.
At least the sparkle was back in those blue eyes.
He chuckled. "Fine, fine. Will you at least answer one question before I go back to answering 'I'm a self-published comics writer will you carry my comic in your shop' emails?"
"You get those, too?" she asked, sighing. "Yeesh." But then she rolled her eyes teasingly and leaned her elbows on the counter, shifting closer to him. "What's your question?"
He paused for dramatic effect, then mimicked her pose, moving in closer to her as well, their faces mere inches apart. "Do I at least get to still walk you out to your car after you're done with whatever work you have left to do here before ya go home?"
She gave him a wide, closed-mouth smile, seeming shy again. Her eyes had even more sparkle to them. "Yes, please."
"Okay. Good." He leaned in to gently nuzzle her nose with his, making her giggle. "Text me. Or pop over and look through the window for a really long time until I see ya like a spooky ghost or somethin', that'll be fun. I'll spot you, get a little scared for a sec, realize it's you and not a ghost, and then I'll get a mixture of relief and gooeyness right here." He tapped his chest.
"I'll probably just text you, you weirdo," she laughed, but before he could leave, she grabbed him by the front of his jacket and tugged him across the counter for a proper kiss. When she finally broke it, she gave him a serious look, steeped in affection. "Thank you for being so sweet about me not being up for a date tonight."
"Naaah, come on. It's no big deal. All good." He squeezed her bicep just over her elbow, winking. "I'm gonna head back over to sell some comic books. Let me know when you're done with what you're doing over here and I'll walk you to your car, okay?"
"Yeah." She nodded, still smiling, finally letting him go.
It had been hours since she texted him, allowing him to walk her to her car where he got another kiss. More importantly, she hugged him hard, clinging to him for a long while. And he'd clung back.
He hadn't known what to say to make Cadabra's latest actions feel less bleak, less scary. It was intense. What she'd been through, what they'd discovered under the edge of her bookstore's front counter, was freaking insane. Intensely insane.
And now he was home and he couldn't stop thinking about it.
Not because he really wished he was out somewhere with her, maybe at a post-dinner coffee shop or she might've dragged him someplace to dance or get drinks. Or they could've found a cool park to walk around at night. Anything that meant he was with her.
He did want all of that, and he'd missed her acutely. Like a fuggin' nut.
But he couldn't stop thinking about it because Sarah clearly couldn't stop thinking about it. To the point where she felt like she wouldn't be able to properly enjoy their date the way she wanted to.
It had felt important earlier not to clue the rest of the shop owners in on what had occurred, what Sarah found in her bookstore, not until Casey could individually make the rounds and let everyone know to be careful with people who came in. He'd probably have to show them pictures of Shaw.
They had to step very carefully especially now.
But Chuck figured Sarah's store was the only one that had been bugged. She was targeted. Singled out. Why? Why her?
Was it Daniel Shaw?
Did Daniel Shaw single her out because he was attracted to her? Chuck wanted jealousy to stay the hell out of this, because it was too easy and too ridiculous to allow the green-eyed monster to take the reins.
Sarah had to be the one he'd bugged because she was just that good at what she did, even if she still was working to build a consistent clientele.
A Castle in the Air community.
She'd get there.
And the reason why he knew she'd get there was the same reason why they'd picked her store to plant the bug: she had inherent talent and skill and know-how. Maybe she was still learning how to run a business of her own but she damn well knew how to sell books and she was a retail pro.
Chuck finally vowed to stop drowning in thoughts of that fucking oily-haired two by four and the bug he planted and go back inside to play some video games when his phone buzzed in his pocket.
He took it out and glanced at the screen.
Instead of the "Spam" notification he expected to see, he saw something much, much more enticing, and he scrambled to answer it, his heart racing.
}o{
It was the way she was assailed immediately by a deeply unsettled feeling the moment she pressed her shoulder to the cool window of her living room, looking down over the street outside of her place.
Nobody was even out there, so why did she feel so exposed, so…watched?
Shivering, she quickly grabbed the string of her blinds and pulled them down, cutting herself off from the outside world. She paused, and then she promptly went around the rest of her apartment to make sure everything was similarly closed.
She'd never cared all that much about it before.
She did tonight.
Of course no one was watching her. That was so silly. And still, the sound of that man's voice telling her things about her past jobs, things he shouldn't know… at least not without hiring a private investigator to gather up all of her dirt for him to look through like she was a character in a book. Why had he done that if he wasn't obsessed, if he wasn't some kind of stalker?
Sarah felt chills go through her again and she tugged her robe more tightly around her body.
But he hadn't verbally threatened her. He hadn't shown up at her home. He wasn't literally following her when she went on errands or drove home from her job. At least there was no evidence of that. And to press charges, she'd need more than "he knows that I used to be a manager at a toy store and also a barista!"
The truth was that if Daniel Shaw ever popped out of some dark alleyway to grab her, she'd kick the shit out of him. And she knew that. She was more than capable of fighting him off, defending herself, knocking him out with a hard elbow jab or a two-punch to the jaw.
And yet, she was still filled with nerves. Being able to defend herself didn't make the uneasy, gross feeling she had in her chest and gut go away. And for the first time in a long time, being in her home, alone, was making her feel unsafe.
She resented herself for letting him get the better of her like that. He wouldn't know it, but she was giving him a win here, and she knew it. By not being able to ignore his glib little comments about her past, a past he shouldn't know about, she was allowing him entry—into her psyche, into her life even. And she didn't want him there.
It took an hour of fretting and pacing, trying to read a fun adventurous kids book about spies in her favorite reading chair and being unable to concentrate, before she stood up, went into her bedroom, shirked the robe, and changed out of her pajamas.
Sarah Walker was angry by the time she picked up her phone. And it didn't occur to her that she'd skipped her mom's number, and she'd skipped Carina's number—the person she'd known longer than anyone besides her mom. She definitely skipped her dad's number, if he even answered the freaking thing in the first place, which she doubted.
She hadn't noticed how quickly and easily she'd pulled him up, without even having to think about it. She saw his last text to her and she felt ridiculous for the things it did inside of her. "I'm here for whatever you need."
She'd sent back a thank you and heart eyes at the time, but she'd been too busy getting ready to take a long shower and let her head soak in the jet stream to pay enough attention to it. She was paying attention to it now.
It wasn't normal to want to hear his voice as badly as she did in this moment, and she knew that. This man she still hadn't even gone on a second date with, thanks to her earlier antics.
Sure, she could've just gone on the freaking date. She would've gone on the freaking date and let herself fade off and not pay attention or devote her focus to him…if it was anyone else. But it wasn't anyone else. It was Chuck Bartowski. And he made her want to do and be better. He made her want to do this thing right.
So she didn't regret speaking up and being honest with him. That was the thing about Chuck—she never regretted being honest with him. He didn't make her regret it.
It wouldn't have been right to go on with the date with how distracted she was by the fact that her store was bugged by a truly powerful competitor, and that it was done by a man who likely had his own motivations with an obsessive and stalkerish tinge to them.
Chuck deserved her full attention and she wouldn't have been able to give it to him.
Still, she stared down at his text, and she scrolled up to the selfie he sent her just yesterday holding a copy of the same comic he'd given her up by his face, fixing the camera with a dubious, narrowed-eyed look. He'd texted under it: "Have you read it yet?"
She hadn't.
She was terrible.
But he was also such an emotional balm. The fidgety nerves she had in her, that unsafe crappy feeling she was dealing with being here all alone, even with everything locked and the blinds drawn to the outside world, even with the countless books she had surrounding her… it felt not so bad as she looked at his face in her phone.
Sighing, not quite knowing if she was doing the right thing, if she was being silly, if she was betraying the voice inside of her screaming that she could take care of her own damn self like she always had ever since she was a kid… Sarah hit the call button instead of texting.
}o{
"Hi," he rushed out. "Sarah, hey. Hi. Sorry I took so long; I legit almost dropped it off my balcony trying to answer it…"
She giggled. "You didn't take that long, Chuck. It was only, like, three rings. And please don't break your phone. I need it to talk to you."
"Oh." He let out a slow breath, calming himself down, stepping off of his balcony and into the living room, sliding the door shut behind him so that he could hear her better over the sound of the waves crashing harder against the shore now that the tide was creeping up the sand. "I need it to talk to you back. So… Um, everything okay? You okay?"
"Yes."
That hadn't sounded convincing at all. But before he could attempt to probe her about it, she continued.
"I meant what I said earlier, Chuck. I had too much on my mind to be even remotely the kind of date partner you deserved tonight."
"Oh. Sarah, I know. And like I said, I understand. I meant that, too."
"I know you understand," she said warmly. "I appreciate it. A lot. But would you, um, think I was sort of a hypocrite if I said I, um… Well…" She sighed.
"What is it, Sarah?" he prompted after about fifteen seconds passed.
"I want to see you tonight. Not a date, just…" She paused, searching for words. He wanted to blurt a loud, desperate YES in her ear, ready to bust his ass to wherever she was. "Can I come over? Do you think that'd be okay? Nothing, um, formal or anything. I just wanna…come over. Or are you busy? Because I get it if so," she rushed out. "If you've got things going on, I will not get in my car and drive the couple of minutes to your apartment."
"I'm not there," he said, not sure why he felt the need to address that first. He winced at himself, knowing he should've dispelled the idea that he was busy, that anything else would take precedence over seeing her tonight when he'd just been all mopey missing her out on the balcony not two minutes ago.
"Oh. Okay…"
"I mean, I'm actually—I went to my Venice Beach place tonight. I want to be close to the action tomorrow—the protest—even if I can't, like…physically be there. So I came home to my beach house instead of going all the way into the city." He shrugged. "A little silly, but there it is."
She giggled. "That's actually pretty sweet. But no worries. It wasn't like—I'm not in desperate need or anything. I swear. Maybe I can see you tomorrow after the protest—?"
"No, come over," he cut in. He shook himself, aware of how blunt that had sounded. Almost like an order. "Please?" he added. "Come here. If you don't mind the drive. It's like thirteen miles so that's gonna be like twenty minutes right now, at this time of the night. But, um…"
"There's no traffic. I put you on speaker phone and checked," she rushed out. "A little under twenty minutes. Are-Are you sure?"
The eagerness in her tone would've convinced him if he wasn't already in an absolute state of wanting nothing else in the whole world more than seeing her as soon as possible.
There was something up with her. He heard it, he felt it. Even if she wasn't outright saying it.
Maybe it wasn't just that the bug situation had her too distracted to be able to participate in a date tonight, but that she needed something else—someone else. Even if she came over and ranted all night, he didn't care. If that was what she needed, he'd give her all the room in the world. And a stiff drink.
"I'm so so so sure," he said adamantly. "Come over. I'm sending you the address. As long as you don't mind me looking like a guy wearing a super old T-shirt, some pajama pants, and a college sweatshirt that's got ugly fraying on the sleeves" he chuckled.
Sarah made a quiet aching sound, and he heard a grin in her voice. "I bet that sweatshirt is so comfy."
"Oh, it's a dream. Like being hugged by a warm cloud."
She laughed. There was less of her muted tone in her now, but he still sort of felt it. He just wanted her to be here, now, so that he could get to the bottom of it and fix it.
"I'll see you in twentyish minutes…?" she asked then.
"Yes. Absolutely. Please." He wrinkled his face. "I'd say hurry but I don't want you to get a ticket or get into an accident, so I guess hurry responsibly?"
Sarah's giggle trickled through him, making him feel a heady sort of power in his chest. "I'll hurry responsibly, I promise."
"Okay good."
"Great. See you soon."
"So soon."
When he hung up, he did a running in place, fist pumping sort of dance, less than responsibly, and bonked his elbow on the nearby wall, making him wince and glare at it as if the stationary piece of his home had been at fault.
}o{
She knew it was silly to be this nervous.
Wasn't the point of coming here to assuage her nerves?
But these nerves were different.
Very different.
She still felt silly. She'd gone to guys' places before. She'd even been to Chuck's place before. But a really nice apartment in a really nice high-rise still felt very different from…fucking this.
A huge multilevel beach house with a two door garage? It looked so fancy even from this angle, in the lack of proper moonlight with how overcast it was. Windows wrapped around it, making it look all fancy and modern. The first level was raised up from the ground, the garage slotted underneath, likely in case of tide or something, and there were two levels above it.
All of it was his?
Jesus shit.
It was so easy to forget he had a staggering amount of wealth.
And then she pulled up to his whole-ass beach house right on the sand and she was reminded like a slap to the face.
She hadn't gone to anyone's beach house before. Definitely not a guy she was dating.
How did she even handle it?
She gave herself a minute's grace period to try to let the reality of this situation settle. She was dating a very rich man. That was a good thing, not something to be terrified of. She'd come here because she needed to get out of her apartment, away from a place Shaw may or may not know about, and be someplace else—anyplace else.
Not anyplace else, though.
Because she specifically sought out Chuck Bartowski. She'd come here because she needed to be someplace where she felt safe, and that was wherever she found Chuck Bartowski.
Tonight, she found him at his beach house…that was literally on the sand; like, she'd seen the corner of a patio that had a little fence that led right onto the sand on the other side of his house from where she'd parked. And it was three levels for shit's sake. With what looked like railing on the roof—maybe a space for hosting a dinner party or something in the summer.
When she found out he had a beach house, she'd dwelled on it. And now she was parked behind it, or in front of it…how did that work? Which side was the front and which was the back, she wondered? His back yard was basically the beach if this was the front. Ridiculous.
This was intimidating.
She had to just be honest with herself about that.
His pure wealth intimidated the shit out of her.
She'd never been exposed to anything like this. With the life her parents had given her, scrambling for whatever scraps she could grab onto for herself, wrestling for any sort of work to make a living, survive. To know she was about to walk into this place because she was dating the man who owned it felt almost like she was walking into some alternate universe where that Sarah had actually been born into money as well and it totally made sense the guy she was dating had a three-story beach house on Venice Beach. It was nothing, going to her guy's beach house at eight o'clock at night because she wanted to. Whatever. No big deal.
If this was an alternate universe she'd crossed into, she was getting rid of this universe's Sarah, wherever she was, and she was keeping her life and her man.
As intimidating as his wealth was, the rest of him was too good to leave behind.
Rolling her eyes at herself a little for sounding like some creepy villainess from one of those dark suspense thrillers Carina liked to read so much, Sarah finally swung out of her car from behind the steering wheel.
She glanced up then when she saw something move out of the corner of her eye. She didn't jump or gasp when the tall, lanky form of a man strolled down the side staircase and appeared from behind the far corner of the house, because she knew that tall, lanky form was exactly who she'd driven twenty minutes to see.
Her car door still open, she propped one hand on the door, the other on top of her car, and she cocked her hip, tilting her head. She didn't have to force a smile the way she thought she might have to, with how icky she'd been feeling pretty much all night, like eyes were following her.
She didn't feel that unsettling rush of nerves in this moment as he hopped off the last step and stalled for a moment, grinning hard at her. "Hi, Beautiful."
"Hi, Gorgeous," she replied easily, her smile widening.
She giggled happily when he pressed his hand to his chest and raised his eyebrows as if wordlessly asking who, me?
"I thought I saw your car lights when I was up there," he said then, approaching her car with one hand stuck in the pocket of the pajama pants he was wearing. He wasn't lying about looking all cozy. He'd hinted about being worried she'd think he was…she didn't know, a slob or something maybe? But instead, a deep sense of comfort draped over her and she wanted to fall into him and cling. She wanted his cozy warmth wrapped around her. She'd only felt that a few times in the last couple of weeks and it wasn't nearly enough. But before she could shut her door and step into his embrace, he added, "D'you, um, wanna park in the garage?"
Sarah glanced at the garage as he pulled a fob out of his pocket and pressed a button, the garage door nearest her car sliding open to reveal his hybrid. (She couldn't help the inward smirk as she remembered what they'd done in the back seat of it.)
"Am I gonna get into trouble for having my car parked here? Is it not allowed?"
"It's allowed, it's totally good, and if you'd rather stay here, that's fine," he said, pressing his chest into her car door and leaning over it so that their faces were closer. "Only there's a house at the end of the block that's an Air BnB and huge parties have happened there before which has historically meant lots of drunk assholes trying to DUI home crashing into cars parked on this skinny little road at two and three in the morning." He rolled his eyes.
The bookstore owner decided not to tease him about his assumption her car might still be here at two or three in the morning. She was feeling a little shy herself at the moment as she shifted her weight and cleared her throat. And hadn't she brought an overnight bag in her trunk?
"Okay, yeah. I can't really afford to have a totaled car right now," she said, wrinkling her nose in a wince. She turned to look. "Right here next to yours?"
"That's perfect."
He could likely fit four cars in there what with the other large garage door he hadn't opened. Jesus Christ. She had to shake herself a little and not let that line of thinking plague her mind again.
She wasn't here for the exorbitant wealth. She was here for the man. And the man was waiting for her.
Sarah made quick work of pulling into the garage next to his car. As she parked, he moved in close, holding her car door open for her as she climbed out, and then she slid her hand into his as he offered it and the moment their skin touched, even the slightest touch, she needed more.
She moved in to hug him tightly, pressing her nose against his jaw.
It had maybe been about five hours since she'd seen him last, when he'd chuckled over the alleged "bone breaking" hug she gave him when he walked her out to her car.
Now she was here, in his arms, the two of them standing a bit awkwardly in the middle of his garage.
She relinquished him just enough to look up into his face, their arms still around one another. "Thanks for letting me crash your peaceful night alone at your super nice beach house." She sent him a look. "You realize how amazing this house is, right? And I haven't even seen the inside of it."
He smiled with a shrug. "You aren't crashing anything. I'm extremely glad you're here. I've kind of, um, wanted to invite you to this place in particular for some time now, honestly." He shifted his slipper-covered feet against the cement garage floor. "Even before this became a, um, romantic thing…yeah."
That sensation of safety became more intense as she watched the shyness in his eyes, the way he shrugged a little again. Here she'd been so intimidated by how clearly huge and expensive this beach house was, that he freaking owned, and at the same time, he seemed like he was almost nervous. Did he think she'd not like it?! Jesus Christ, it was stunningly gorgeous.
"You look…nice," he said quietly, his eyes running down her form.
Sarah's tongue darted out to wet her lips. "Oh? Flowy beachy shirt and a long skirt doin' it for ya?" she asked. And then she stuck out her foot. "Flip-flops probably aren't the best thing to wear a couple days before Christmas but it felt right for showing up at the beach."
He chuckled. "I just wear sneakers all the time, no matter what time of the year it is."
"I know. I saw you wearing canvas shoes in the rain before."
"I won't even try to defend myself. It's one of the most Californian things about me."
She giggled, letting him lead her out of the garage and back to the staircase as he used that fob to shut the garage door. "This place is incredibly beautiful," she complimented again, watching him in front of her as he kept hold of her hand and led her up the stairs to a side door.
And the moment he opened the door and held it for her to enter first, that nervous sort of look on his face, she stepped inside with a quiet gasp.
The first floor had an open floor plan, leather couch facing a big screen TV, a huge sound system in the corner, video game consoles piled under the TV. A kitchen was connected with a nice granite open bar being the only thing separating it from the large table with a pretty picture window facing the ocean. Next to the couch was the large see-through sliding door that led onto a spacious balcony looking out onto the beach about twelve feet or more below.
But that wasn't what made her gasp.
His walls were absolutely covered with comic book art, movie art, art from TV shows. Prints that were large and small. It wasn't distastefully covered, like every inch of the wall was littered with science fiction or anything like that. But it was truly everywhere.
There was a really fancy mahogany and glass breakfront, massive and full of grandeur, in the corner of the living room by the sound system and many racks of vinyls, and it was packed with what looked like toys, action figures, dolls in boxes. She'd never seen anything but nice, fine china in a breakfront before.
Who was this man she was dating?
He cleared his throat.
"Um…th-there's a reason I rarely, um, bring folks here besides, like…my family. Morgan. Uh, yeah. I keep all my super nerdy stuff here. I have some at the apartment? But most of it is here." He cleared his throat. "Ta daaaa." He stepped up to stand beside her, nervously scratching behind his ear. "In case you were wondering who the real me is, this is, um, this is it. It's me."
So this was his playhouse, then. Where he kept the nerdiest bits of himself. The toys, dear God. They were everywhere. On nearly every surface that wasn't his coffee table and dining room table. Some of them in original packaging, some of them not.
She realized belatedly that she hadn't responded yet. And he was who he was, so she knew he'd immediately feel self-conscious, like this was just way too much nerd for her. So she turned and grabbed his forearm in a warm grip and she smiled at him.
"You are an even bigger nerd than I thought was possible. How did you get like this?" she teased, making sure he saw an extra sparkle in her eyes.
He sent her a small smile and she saw in his face that he was relieved she hadn't run out of this place screaming. "Years and years of practice."
Sarah laughed, moving to the breakfront. "I've never seen so much of this stuff in one place. Oh my God."
"I should be ashamed but I'm not. A little embarrassed maybe. Ahem." He had followed her, his voice quiet as he stood at her shoulder. "This was a gift from my dad when I was a kid." He pointed at the little army dude in the tank top and camo pants and boots.
"That's a G.I. Joe, right?"
"Heeeeeey. Good job," he said, seeming impressed.
She giggled. "It's G.I. Joe, not some obscure comics character. Don't be that impressed." She felt his hand on the small of her back and she pressed herself into it, feeling more comfort dripping through her whole person.
"Can I get you a drink? I was having coffee and rum when you called."
Sarah moaned. "Do you have any more of that?"
Chuck smiled with his whole being and nodded. "Coming right up. Um, take…a look around if you want."
"But don't touch, right? You nerds are very particular about your toys."
"They're…not really toys. They—Okay, fine, they're toys," he amended when she sent him a dubious look. He laughed and shook his head. "Look, don't be mean, okay? I brought you here when I haven't let any other woman into this place who isn't literally my sister."
He was still chuckling as he said it, but Sarah turned to watch him go to the kitchen anyway. Because she could tell he was serious about that. Not the don't be mean part, but the part where he'd said no other woman had been here but his sister.
"Ellie knows how bad the nerdiness is because we grew up in the same home. Nobody knows better than she does," he said over his shoulder as he grabbed a mug.
Sarah gravitated towards the kitchen and leaned her hip against the counter, shrugging her purse off and setting it in one of the stilted bar chairs.
"Wait, really? You never brought, um… any of the women you dated to your beach house? Not even the one you were with when I first moved in next to your comic shop?"
"Oh, Lou?" He snorted and sent her a wan look as he turned and set the mug down, grabbing the still steaming carafe and pouring coffee into the blue and white DC Comics mug. "She's the last person I would've brought here. Even if that relationship had gone the distance—Well, maybe it was never gonna go the distance because she wasn't someone I felt comfortable enough with to let her see…all this." He gestured out into the living room.
"She didn't know you were a nerd? You own a comic book shop."
"Oh, she knew." He grabbed a nearby bottle of Kraken rum, unscrewed the stop, and held it out to her. "You can pour your own. Don't know how strong you need it tonight."
There was something in his face that made her think he was aware there was an extra reason for her being here. Not merely just to see him, but because she needed something more. Comfort?
Damn his observing nature.
She smiled a little and took the bottle, pouring less than she maybe wanted. An attempt to dissuade him from thinking she wasn't okay.
"She just didn't know how bad. We weren't as compatible as I thought. And I guess I missed that 'cause she was pretty cute and, at the time, I thought a really good kisser."
She was ashamed of herself for the spike of jealousy. "At the time?" she asked, trying to sound not so interested.
"I've kissed you since then." He scoffed. "She ain't even close."
Sarah set the bottle down next to her mug and turned to fix him with a slow smile, her insides boiling just slightly. "That was a really solid line, nerd. Perfect set-up."
"Thanks. But it's true." He poured more coffee into his own mug, as well as some more rum, and then he lifted it towards her. "To delicious coffee and rum bottles that look like a giant squid annnnd even more delicious lip-locking."
"Oh, I'm absolutely drinking to that," she said adamantly, bumping his mug with hers and carefully sipping the hot brew. It went down so good, she let herself hum a little. "You wanted me here before we even banged the crap outta each other in the back of my store?"
She said it that way on purpose. To make him laugh or blush or both. In hopes he focused on that part instead of the fact that she'd asked the question at all. Because he hadn't wanted women to know just how nerdy he was, how much of this deeply dorky stuff he owned, how it was everywhere in this place… until he met her.
He did laugh, and he blushed as well.
Chuck cradled the mug in both hands, as if he was cold and needed a bit of a warm-up. "Sarah, you get it. I've seen your apartment. You've got a room like this, too. Only it's a bunch of books instead of…action figures and dolls of superheroes and Animaniacs Funko Pops. You get how this stuff can get into your blood and stay there and fill you with this…I dunno, power…power to get through the hard shit. You understand that. And I knew that you understood that even before that night in your back room when things…kinda exploded here." He gestured between them. "So yeah. I guess I wanted you to see all of me in a way that I haven't wanted…um, other girls to…know about all this crap."
"It isn't crap to you," she emphasized, fixing him with a serious look. "I don't get why you'd want all this stuff, I'll be honest, but you're right in that I do understand what it means to need…"
"The stories."
"Yes," she breathed, nodding. "And these action figures you have all over this place are part of those stories you love." She paused, turning back to him. "Thanks for trusting me with this."
Chuck's smile made the rest of the night's horrible slithering feeling go away completely. It was so full of adoration. She felt adored, she felt deeply cared for, appreciated, respected. "Thanks for being so trustworthy, for making me feel like I can be myself around you. I know I never have to worry about having this thrown back in my face. Not with you."
And this was why, when she was feeling out of sorts, nervous, freaked out even, being alone in her apartment, Chuck was the first person she sought for comfort. "Just so long as you never try to make me put one of these toys in my living room…"
She sent him a glimmering look and gave what she hoped was a cute tug to the hem of his T-shirt. He giggled and shook his head. "I make no promises. Well, that's not true," he said on second thought. "I can promise I won't make you put something on a shelf in your living room because I don't think it's possible for me to make you do anything." She liked that he said that. A lot. "But I can't promise I won't give you somethin' anyway someday. Something cool. I don't just gift random shit, especially not where you're concerned."
Sarah sent him a closed-mouth smile, sipping her coffee, and then moving in closer. "I hope you don't think that just because you're rich, I'm expecting lots of expensive presents. I am not that kind of girl."
"But that's exactly my point," he argued. "It's gonna hafta scream Sarah Walker the Bookworm or I won't do it."
She sniffed in amusement, then turned to look over her shoulder at the rest of what she could see of his home.
She was starting to feel a bit squirmy again. The only time she'd ever felt unsafe in her home had been when she was a kid and they found out one of the bad dudes her dad had crossed during a con had threatened his family. They'd had to grab their stuff and go, leaving the California high desert behind and ending up in Los Angeles. She'd been scared to sleep at night for weeks after that, and her mom had needed to sleep in a sleeping bag on the floor of her room for days after they resettled.
And now almost twenty years later, a disconcerting conversation with a slimy man who had the means and the tools to make good on any unsaid threats had her feeling creeped out in her own home.
Sarah felt something brush against her hand and she pulled it back with a slight jump, having to hold onto her mug tighter with her other hand to keep from spilling it, or worse, dropping it all over these nice, clean floors.
"Sorry!" Chuck said, holding his hand up, away from her. "I didn't mean to spook ya. I was just trying to hold your hand. You seem…um…"
"What?" she asked, taking his hand adamantly. She squeezed it, trying to convince him she wasn't filled with nerves. "I'm good. I just didn't see you reaching. Sorry."
She could see he was dubious but he didn't say anything, likely not wanting to upset her, or patronize her. And that alone made everything inside of her want to reach out for him, hold on, and not let go.
Instead, she let out a rough sigh and slumped a little against his counter. "Why are you so freaking observant?" she asked glumly.
"Um." His Adam's apple bobbed and then he opened his mouth to answer but shut it again, his brow furrowed. He clearly didn't know how to answer that.
Giving him an affectionate smile, she sipped her rum-infused coffee and nibbled on her lip, dropping her gaze to her feet and shrugging her shoulders. "I didn't really wanna be in my home tonight."
Chuck didn't respond for a second. And then he mumbled, "It was a crazy day." Then he tugged a little on her hand that was still linked with his. "C'mere. I can tell something is up and I have a setting cure."
"A what?" she asked, sending him a confused but amused look as he gently led her out of the kitchen and through the living room to the sliding glass door.
"A setting cure. I put you in a setting that's so nice and peaceful that it makes you feel nice and peaceful on the inside. Sometimes it works super well. I call it a setting cure." He let go of her hand momentarily to slide open the door, gesturing for her to go out first with a flick of his head. "Well, that's not really true. I just used the phrase 'setting cure' for the first time right now. But I think I'm gonna keep using it. What do you think?"
Sarah had already stepped out onto the stucco balcony. Then again, it was so large, it might even be labeled a deck. More importantly, though, the sand, grey in the cloudy moonless night, stretched out towards the horizon, the ocean rolling up the shore beyond that. And the most relaxing sound she'd ever heard in her life seeped under her skin and into her very bones. The waves of the Pacific Ocean.
She took a deep breath, going to the railing and leaning her hand on it, the coffee still deliciously warm in her mug, pressed to her palm and fingers. "I love it. It's incredible."
"Oh." Chuck had come up next to her. "I meant the phrase 'setting cure' but I think you're talking about the view."
Sarah giggled at his antics, glancing at him. "Doofus."
"It is incredible, isn't it?"
"I can't believe you get to live here. That just blows my mind," she admitted, reaching up to gently push hair that escaped its tie from her face and tucking it behind her ear as a breeze wafted past them. "And there are more balconies up there?" She turned to look up. There was one on the second floor. It wasn't as much of a deck, just a balcony. But there was no just about a beach house balcony, was there? It looked like a bedroom was beyond it, but the light was off in both upstairs levels so she couldn't tell for sure.
"Yeah. There's a deck on the roof, too. Sometimes I have Ellie and Devon and Morgan over and we do, like…barbecue or somethin'. Or Ellie will drive down and we'll just sit up there drinking and shooting the shit."
"You know what? That woman is great at drinking and shooting the shit."
"Oh, she's the best." He sipped his coffee, and as he lowered his mug again, swallowing, she watched as a thoughtful look overcame his handsome face. "I'd like to do my best to give her a run for her money though. Right now. Out here. What's going on, Sarah? Are you okay?"
She was, she realized. In spite of everything. "Sort of," came out of her mouth, though. Because that was the truth. And Chuck was really good at getting the truth out of her.
He frowned, just watching her patiently. And it was better than anything he could've said to fill the space as she tried to gather her words.
"It isn't just the bug. It's…the motivation, I guess. I didn't say anything about this earlier because I didn't want to make a huge deal out of it."
"About what?" He pushed off from the railing of the deck and stood to his full height, his brow furrowed in worry.
"That sonofabitch Shaw was trying to ask me out again when he was in my store earlier today…"
Chuck rolled his eyes and scoffed. "Yeah. Figured as much. He's got all the traits of a guy who is told no by a woman and he hears yes."
"Sure, that. Yes. You're right. But, um…" Sarah fidgeted, and then she shifted to face the ocean, another breeze playing with her hair. This time Chuck's fingers tenderly tucked it back behind her ear, and she swept her blue eyes up to meet his brown ones. "Maybe the higher-ups at Cadabra know what their director of acquisitions and development did today. Planting that bug in my store, I mean. And…well, all I'm saying is what if…they didn't?" He frowned harder. "Or what if they knew and endorsed it, only they didn't quite know what his real motivation was?"
"His real motivation?" Chuck asked, his voice deep and low. "You mean…not to learn how you sell books and how you decide which ones to carry?"
"Maybe that's what Cadabra wants, Chuck, but I have this…seriously creeped out suspicion it isn't what Daniel Shaw wants."
The comic book shop owner was quiet for a long moment, leaning his elbows on the railing and hunching forward, staring down at the sand, his features hard. And then he finally spoke up: "You're afraid he planted the bug to get access to you. Not your business, or how you do business, but you."
"Yeah," she answered quietly.
"Fuck." He straightened up and shook his head. And then he let out another curse, a snapped, "Shit", before he set his coffee mug on the small ledge that jutted out from the railing and crossed his arms at his chest. He finally turned to face her head-on. "You're a lot more level-headed than anyone else I know, Sarah. And you wouldn't jump to conclusions. You wouldn't be suspicious like this if he didn't give you a reason."
"He did. And-And that's why I was okay with Casey calling up his cop friend to ask for advice."
Chuck breathed out another curse, pushing a hand through his curls. "I guess I should've wondered harder about that. Casey calling his cop friend just because of the bug felt kind of out of character for him. That guy would take matters into his own hands if it was just about Cadabra bugging his shop owners. I should've known, damn it." He shifted his weight, shaking his head, and she already saw anger in him.
She needed to tell him the rest, like Casey said in his office earlier. "He tried to pretend he wasn't like his employer, that he didn't believe in the way they suck the life out of small businesses wherever they go. And while he was putting on his…" She took a deep breath and rolled her eyes. "…exceptionally terrible show, he…" She swallowed thickly and Chuck took a step closer to her, his warmth engulfing her even before he laid a hand on her. There was a lot of worry in his face, like he didn't know what was coming next. But he was here, and his hand came up to caress her elbow with his fingers, before cupping it supportively.
"My career path has never been linear and it's been littered with a shit ton of jobs, mostly retail and service jobs, a whole lot of them." He nodded, understand. "Shaw began to list them, Chuck. As we stood there in my bookstore, he talked about how I waitressed at the Penny's downtown, and I was a barista for a bit…he knew that. But then he also knew I managed the toys and games department at the Joy Barn, and he even knew how old I was when I worked that job. I was eighteen. He knew that shit about me and it isn't stuff that's easy to find unless you—fuck, unless you do some kind of creepy deep dive into my background."
Chuck leaned in close, stooping a little. And he waited for her eyes to flick up to his before he half-growled, "What in the fuck? He knows where you've worked? Going back all the way to when you were eighteen?"
"Yes. God, it gave me this horrible, deep chill, Chuck. I can't—I can't explain it. I've never had anyone do that before. Like, did he hire a private investigator or something? What the fuck?!" Because he seemed too shocked and angered to say anything, she continued in a breathless rush. "I finally got him to leave the bookstore…I was freaking out, you know? It's so creepy! And then, well…Casey's cop friend said nothing can really be done unless there's proof besides just what I heard Shaw say. You can't get a restraining order simply on he said/she said—"
"Oh, that's total bullshit. Seriously? The guy friggin' knows where you worked when you were a teenager. If he isn't dangerous, he wouldn't have dug into your life like that. Jesus!" Chuck exclaimed, a dark, stormy look in his face.
Sarah clutched her mug in both hands, having some more. She drank it down with loud gulps, her throat not seeming to work properly. "Yeah, well…that's where I am on it, too. It's bullshit. But then I was all…freaked out, you know? And I didn't feel like I wanted to be out and about…on a date. It felt…so icky. I know how silly I sound right now, it just didn't feel…safe." Before he could go full sweet nerd and reassure her that he understood, Sarah continued. "And then I was sitting at home tonight and I felt like I needed to draw the blinds and, like, hide under my covers practically, I had myself so freaked out. I mean, he knew that stuff about me from when I was eighteen? Of course he can easily find out where I live, you know? And he's probably some kind of fucking stalker, so who's to say he wouldn't show up at my apartment, right?"
Rage and concern both crossed through his features then, as what she saw seemed to settle in his head. "You think he'd try to get into your place?"
"I don't know." She set down her mug next to his and threw her hands up in a dramatic shrug. "I don't know what the creeper is capable of. And that's the scary part. Maybe he's just really into me, thinks I'm pretty, or he…ugh, gets off on girls thinking he's a piece of shit." Chuck made a furious, grossed out face. "Well? How am I supposed to know he isn't any of that stuff? I only met him the two times and both times he gave me these gross Stranger Danger vibes."
"I'm so disgusted. What the hell? I don't even know what to do with my hands right now…" he mumbled, his voice taking on a quiet, dangerous tone. His hands were clutching onto the railing so tightly his knuckles were going white.
"Well, imagine how I feel. I was freaking myself out so bad, in my own home, feeling so freaking unsafe and creeped out. I didn't want to be there. I was worried about staying there alone. And I grabbed my phone and I…"
"You called me, asked if you could come over," he said quietly, the dangerous tone gone as he looked her in the face. "Because you didn't feel safe, because you were scared. Damn it, Sarah…"
The distance between them was gone, and just like that, she was enveloped in his arms. He held her in a tight embrace, not hesitating even for a moment. She buried her face in his neck and took a deep breath, not hugging him back, but tucking her arms between their chests and allowing herself to be embraced, surrounded by his warmth.
"I'll be fine," she whispered. "It'll go away. I know it will. And it'll all be good. But tonight, I couldn't be there."
His lips were so soft against her forehead as he kissed her there, his hug tightening. "Then you'll be here," he said in a steady voice. "With me. I don't know if this is gonna ring…trivial and paltry, fake…in your ears or not, but I hope you believe me when I say that I'd never let anything happen to you. Stalker or not, that little fuck isn't gonna come anywhere near you. Never again." There was a pause. "Not that you wouldn't kick his ass into pulp before I even laid a hand on him…but still…"
Sarah laughed, pushing herself further into his chest and nuzzling his collarbone with her nose. "I would, and I absolutely can take him down, but that doesn't make me feel any safer."
"What can I do to make you feel safer, Sarah? Name it and I'll do it."
"This," she sighed, finally pulling her arms out from where they'd gotten pinned between both of their bodies. "Letting me be here, where he can't…find me or even think about me." She shivered, wrapping her arms around Chuck's back and holding him in a vise grip. "At least, it feels like he can't think about me while I'm here and I'll take it, stupid as it sounds."
"It doesn't sound stupid. I'm glad. I'm glad this place can make you feel that way."
"It isn't this place. It's you," she said immediately, without pause. "It's why I called you before…either of my parents, or Carina, or anyone else." He didn't say anything for a long, long moment. So she shyly prompted: "…Nothin'? You don't want to say anything to that?"
"I'm trying not to feel so fuggin' good when you're going through something that's so fuggin' bad," he admitted quietly.
Sarah grinned, shutting her eyes, and then she pulled her arms back from where they were slung around his back, instead sliding them around his head and pulling his face down so that it was buried in her neck. She hugged his head, her fingers stroking his gorgeous, soft curls. "Feel exactly the way you feel, Chuck. But maybe we can feel, erm…inside…where it isn't so cold?"
But neither of them budged, instead standing curled around one another, the sea breeze intimately brushing at their hair and clothes.
A/N: Thanks for reading! Please review if you can. Appreciate y'all!
-SC