Chuck versus the Positively Medieval

by Steampunk . Chuckster

Summary: In the provincial town of Pinedeep, everyone knows: The only way to secure the hand of the heiress of the Walker fortune is to catch her black cat and take the key that hangs from its collar back to the heiress Walker's home where it will unlock the door and unlock her fortune. When enigmatic siblings from afar settle in Pinedeep, will the shifting winds they bring prove fateful? Medieval AU.

A/N: Thank you for reading. Everything is deeply fucked up and things we took for granted as always being there are being dismantled and the media is still trying to be "unbiased" in their reporting of the rise of fascism, failing us horribly in a moment when we need them to tell the truth. Political enemies are being arrested by federal agents, just as he said he would. But for as long as this website exists and free web access exists, I'll try to be here to post my stories. I hope it helps some of you the way it helps me to write them.

Disclaimer: I don't own these characters or Medieval Times-though if I did own Medieval Times, I'd make the chairs in that place a little more comfortable and there would be better options for my vegetarian sisters and brothers to eat while enjoying the show.

She was aware of a warmth crackling against her face, the skin of her arms, baking the front of her skirt and enclosing her legs in a nice comfortable heat. And she knew she still sat at that fire her handyman had built in the yard behind the house he had also built.

But what had changed, she realized, was that she was also leaning into something hard and sturdy, another warmth pressed into her side—or rather her side was pressed into it.

And there was a weight around her shoulders, a large hand on her upper back…cradling her.

As she shifted her face and sucked in a deep breath through her nose, her cheek moved against the scratchy material of a man's tunic, the ties of it tickling her chin. She knew certainly then what had happened.

She had fallen asleep sitting at his fire, he had gathered her up against him, and he had cradled her as she slept.

Somehow Chuck Bartowski was even warmer than the fire.

Sarah opened her eyes and looked down the hard planes of his body, the folds of his clothes, and her gaze fell into his lap where they still held hands, fingers threaded together. It had not been the first time she thought about it, about him, about him and her, about the deed she had read about and wondered about more times than she could count since she grew old enough to wonder, notice boys, and then men, the chiseled jaws and long arms and broad shoulders…

Only, this time, she was pressed into a man with broad shoulders of his own, long arms that were blessed with strength and apparently comfort as well. Her sleepy gaze stayed fastened on his lap, the front of his trousers. And then she looked away quickly, wondering what in the spirits had come over her.

But then she tilted her head back to peek up at him. He was awake, peering back down at her, his brow furrowed. He did not budge, he did not let go or pull away, he did not squirm, or shrink back to apologize for the way he held onto her in a protective grip, guarding her from the chilly night, yes, but she could see in his face there was more. He was not simply protecting her, he wanted her against him, the lithe form of her…his wife.

"Thou art awake," he whispered, his voice gentle, just barely carrying over the crackling flame. She did not respond. "I thought to wake ye when I discovered thy sleep, take ye home—"

"Wouldst thou have carried me the whole way back if these tired legs had failed me, sir?" she asked, and she felt it, the crackling. 'Twas not merely the fire in front of them. There was one here, between them as well. She could see he knew it just as well as she did.

"Without question."

Sarah shivered.

And then she pulled her arms out from where they'd been pinned between their bodies, she framed his face with her hands, and she pulled him to meet her halfway as she surged up to smash her lips into his.

Flame engulfed them both and she felt faint from the way he kissed her back. The desire in his kiss, the aching want she felt in her own breast was there in the way his mouth moved on hers.

Sarah Walker had been no fainting fair maiden, a wilting lily waiting in the wings for a husband's first kiss. She had been kissed, and she had been touched, even if she had never gone so far as to let anyone into her bed.

But she had not been kissed like this …

She could scarcely breathe as his hands landed on her body, one of them sliding over her thigh, naught but two layers of cotton and wool between his hand and her skin. And when he squeezed, pulling her in even tighter to him, she let out a soft squeak and kissed him even harder.

She had kissed. She had touched. And she had allowed various touching of her own self. And none of it had felt so engulfing. The burning in her was overwhelming.

This was her husband.

What they had not done on their wedding night because of his selfless, thoughtful, kind pact, because of his respect for her self-determination and independence, she ached to do now. Here on this log if need be.

And still, she knew this man. She knew her handyman. She knew he would not consent to this being the place of their meeting. He would insist on more, on better.

And so when they broke for air, Sarah beamed, enjoying the delicious, hot kisses he dragged down her jaw to her neck, the way his fingers dug into her back muscles, into her thigh. And she turned her lips into his wonderfully soft curls, and she breathed with no small amount of ache, "Put out this fire."

Sarah both felt and heard Chuck suck in a deep breath, and he clung to her even tighter, turning his face to catch her mouth in an intoxicatingly passionate kiss that made her feel an incredible stirring deep in her lower belly. He broke the kiss then, nuzzling her nose, and he said in a voice that was deeper than his usual tone, "I will not. I refuse."

Her laugh was gusty as he captured her lips in another heated kiss, and she clung to him with everything in her. She loved him with a distinct burning that was both deep and blistering. The blisters would be worth it if only she could get him inside.

They broke again for air and she panted, "Thou knoweth which fire I mean."

Her chest heaved as he dove in to taste her neck again, and he pulled her leg so that she was half in his lap, which sent a furious spike of lust through her. As fun as this was, as good as it felt, her eagerness for more took precedence.

"Chuck," she gasped out, grinning into his temple. "The fire. I would that we go inside as immediately as possible."

He must have come to his senses, knowing the sooner they put out the flames before them, the sooner they would be free to explore the flames encasing them.

Sarah had to trap her lips between her teeth and bite down tightly to keep the bubbly laugh from escaping at the way he pulled back from her, gently releasing her back to her place on the seat, the way he took a deep breath, his hands shaking as he rushed to his feet and bustled over to the well to carry a bucket of water over.

She stood on very shaky legs to move away from the spot, and keep splash back from getting on her skirts. For he poured the water over the flames with a haphazard eagerness, a desperate attempt to do this as quickly as he possibly could.

They both knew why, and the burning in her increased.

When finally, the fire was out, nothing but cooling embers and bits of wood in a pit, Sarah clasped his larger hand in hers and pulled him through the kitchen door, through the kitchen…

Chuck was quick to realize she did not know where she was going, and he took the lead, not stopping until they pushed into a bedroom that was small, sparsely furnished, and everything else was completely ignored at the moment, all things considered.

Sarah did not stop digging at his clothes until she found the hard planes of his abdomen against her fingertips, his bare skin smooth and hot to the touch. He gasped into her mouth and she yanked at the tunic, having tugged it from his trousers.

And when it was gone, as she let herself touch him, as she let herself want and take, something occurred to her. She pulled her mouth back from his only enough to speak, their lips still brushing as she gasped out, "Thy sister…"

He gave a small, desperate shake of his head. "She will not return 'til the morrow."

"Thou art certain…"

"These births take all night."

"And if it does not?"

"They make up a place for the good doctor to rest after the ordeal as thanks… 'Tis happened before."

That was good enough for her.

And so she removed the belt over her skirt, meeting his eyes in the dark of his room as she let it fall, nothing but her blouse and underskirts covering her.

His shoulders were broad. Until their wedding, his clothes had not fit him well, and it was not 'til that ceremony that she understood just how lithely attractive the body was under those ill-fitted clothes she had always seen him in before.

She knew for certain now, his chest and shoulders bare. And even as they continued to peel one another free of the wool, cotton, and anything else covering their bodies, she let herself touch him, feel him, look at him. Take him in.

Sarah watched with no small amount of trepidation as he pulled back the covers of his bed, and she stared at the mattress, the sheets, the feather-stuffed pillows. She felt the gentle touch of his fingers to the back of her hand and she nearly jumped, turning to look up at him.

"I-I have not…" she tried, blushing. "Taken." She felt so foolish. What did that even mean? She had not had sex. Why was that hard to say? She usually had no problem saying exactly what she meant. She was never one to beat around any bush, and yet…

His hand was so reassuring around hers as she blushed down at the bed again, shutting her eyes, embarrassed and nervous both. She felt his form press into her side as he stepped in close. He only had braies on, and she was only in a very thin shift. Two thin layers of cloth would be shirked and that would be that.

"Thou art silent," she whispered, not looking at him. "Art thou surprised?"

"No," he answered simply. "I had not given any thought to't."

"And?" She bit her lip, not looking at him.

His fingers were under her chin, and he tenderly forced her to turn and meet his gaze. "And so. Guide me."

"Guide thee?" she repeated breathlessly.

Chuck nodded. "Tell me what thou art comfortable with, every step, I will listen to thee. Guide me along the way. I will not do anything ye do not want me to do."

Sarah swallowed hard, unsure of what she might have done to deserve such a man. But she wanted him so badly she might burst from it. And so she nodded and climbed into the bed, and she reached up towards him, inviting him in with her.

Their bodies folded together, lips meeting, and no more words were exchanged. Her shift was oh so slowly brushed to the side, out of the way, and his lips followed. And when she had reached untold heights more than once, a blush bright on her cheeks at the utter gall of the handyman and the liberties he took, all with her guidance, the shift left her body altogether, his own braies shirked, and he did as he promised.

She guided him as he asked her to, unsure, her words starting soft, tentative, shy. And then the fear and nerves left her, the words became less soft, tentative, shy. And instead they were demanding, commanding.

And when rest was required, he used the respite to light a few candles around the room, before they dove back into it again. And again. And the candles burned out, and still, they clung, discovering together.

}o{

"Mmmmmm." The voice that hummed into his curls crackled similarly to the fire he had lit in his yard hours and hours ago. "Certainly thou hast done that before."

Chuck tightened his arms around her and pushed his face up against her throat, dotting a kiss there and making her giggle gustily. She hugged him closer to her chest, playing with his hair with one of her hands. "Mmm'done what?" he asked, muffled against her soft, warm skin.

She giggled again. He felt her let go with one hand just for a moment, and the sheets that rested at the small of his back were pulled up over the both of them, resting at his neck, protecting his uncovered form from the dark cold of his bedroom. "Didst thou miss the past few hours or however long that was?"

Chuck's eyes popped open. "Oh, that. Erm…"

"Do not fret, Chuck. I will not kick thee out of thine own bed. Just say't."

"Well, I…" He had. But he was struggling to say it all wrapped up in her arms like this.

"Hm, I thought so." Her voice was quiet at first, and when she continued, he heard a thread of teasing, amusement. "Anyone I know?"

He propped himself up to give her a slight glare, smirking down at her. "Here? In Pinedeep? When? We first arrived and it was all building this house, my workshop, Ellie's clinic, trying to start our trades and not step on toes to get ourselves run out of town again… There was no time for even a thought of that, let alone the deed itself. And then…" He gave her a dreamy sort of look, melting down against her even further. "I first laid eyes upon the heir Walker in the marketplace and I was not fit to even notice other women after that."

Sarah rolled her eyes and groaned, a grin on her face. "Oh, what a line that was."

"'Twas not a line! I meant it!"

"Ye meant it and 'twas a line." She chuckled, reaching up to push a curl on his head down. He felt it spring back up again.

"No jealousy from my lady? None?"

She pursed her lips. "I cannot judge thee for actions taken before we even met. 'Twould be completely foolish. Though I do wonder…those towns that ran thee out in the past…was any of it because ye bedded a woman? The wrong woman?" she added, intrigue in her face, her lips forming a cute little 'o' shape.

Chuck laughed. He laughed so hard he had to roll off of her, plopping onto his back next to her, her arm pinned between his shoulders and the mattress. She just turned her head and pressed her lips into a hard line, narrowing her eyes, watching him laugh.

"Thou art laughing at me. I do not take kindly to being laughed at, sir."

He could tell she was teasing him. "Oh, I am sorry. Noted." He reached up to tap his temple, winking. "I wilt not laugh at my wife from this point hence."

"I feel thou art still laughing." She narrowed her eyes even more, moving to sit up, pulling the covers up over her chest for modesty's sake.

"Not at my wife. Never. The laughter is at my own self." He snorted, also climbing to sit up, the sheets falling into his lap and leaving his upper body bare to her gaze. He did not notice the way her blue eyes swept up and down, a smile melting onto her pretty lips. "When it happened, 'twas never the daughter of…of a mayor or anyone with power. Two people on equal standing deciding what they wanted. That was all. No one found out, no one ran me out of town because of any women. I do not inspire that kind of…passion, whether it be ire or otherwise. Usually, 'twas Ellie's trade. But when it was me, 'twas my inability to assimilate. I, erm, have a big mouth and I used it poorly at times. Standing toe to toe with the wrong men. Men with power."

"Ah." She nodded. "So you did anger men in power, though it had naught to do with a woman as such."

"No. Never."

"Ye laughed at the prospect," she said quietly then, leaning back against his bed's headboard. "I do not like what my husband said about inspiring passion. Or not inspiring it, rather. 'Tis not the truth." She swallowed hard enough that he heard it. "I…have not words to properly express myself I fear…"

"Try," Chuck breathed, turning to face her better. "I will not judge the attempt."

She smiled slightly and then she looked down at her lap. "Even just a year ago, the only passion I had was put into swishing a blade around at a man made from straw, shooting arrows at targets, throwing knives. And even still, it-it was different. Passion was not a part of my existence." She finally turned to look up into his eyes, her eyebrows raised. "Then a man of many handy skills rolled into Pinedeep with his physician sister at his side, they built their home here, their practices, and then they changed this place. With not just their trades but with their hearts, as well." She bit her lip, smiling around it. "Thou thinketh ye do not inspire passion… Then why did a certain lady lie awake at night, tossing, turning, thinking of thee…losing sleep?"

Chuck's heart began to thump wildly in his chest. "Have ye lost sleep the past few nights, Sarah?"

"Sir, no. The past few months."

He couldn't take it. He slumped to the side and plopped onto the mattress with a whoomph. The sound of Sarah's laughter crashed through the room and he grinned at the way it made its way into his heart.

"Have I married a court jester then?" she asked, her fingers combing through his curls.

"Aye, lady. A court jester. And ye slay him with words. How will he ever breathe again, I ask thee?" he said, muffled against the covers.

She giggled. "I said the truth."

Chuck groaned, turning his face to peer up at her. "Sarah, I have lost sleep. I have. Since the moment I first laid eyes on thee, I lost so much sleep." He crawled up to sit beside her again, reaching up to gently brush some of her hair from her face, tucking it behind her ear. "Oh, but it was worth it."

Her blue eyes flashed and her arms were around him, her lips pressed to his chin, his jaw, his throat, his chest. And she laid him down underneath her. He melted into the mattress and accepted her takeover with open arms, not caring what time it was, whether the sky began to lighten or not, the stars outside of the window disappearing as dark blue turned to grey and purple.

None of it mattered but this, but her.

}o{

Sarah Walker was slowly drifting out of sleep when she heard the sound of wooden wheels rolling over dirt and pebbles, the clop clop clop clop of a horse's hooves.

It had been a long time since she had morning visitors, so her eyes snapped open immediately. And then she realized this wasn't her bedroom… this wasn't her bed.

And she wasn't alone.

The reality of her situation hit her like a runaway carriage then.

She was Sarah Bartowski now.

Chuck Bartowski's arm was slung over her body, his front pressed to her back, their legs tangled under the covers. She felt his breath playing with her hair near her ear.

She could tell he was starting to wake up as well, and that was good, because another reality hit her. The wagon and horse arriving outside of the Bartowski house was not a morning visitor. It was more than likely his sister and her friend, Eleanor Bartowski, arriving home after delivering Mr. Garnet's grandchild all night.

Sarah glanced down in panic, because there was yet another reality: she was not wearing a single shred of clothing.

Chuck froze where he lay behind her and she knew the realizations had all hit him as well.

"Oh," he mumbled into her hair, and then he burst away from her, mumbling, "Oh oh oh. Oh spirits…" as he scrambled out of the bed and snagged his braies, yanking them up his long legs as she sat up, clutching the sheets to her chest and trying to smooth her hand down what had to be a wild blond mane after last night's activities. "I-I will…go to Ellie. Erm… You…"

What?

It seemed he knew not what to say.

"I will dress," she said quietly.

Ellie had since taken the wagon around to the back yard and was likely untying their horse, taking it for water and food, which would give them another minute or two.

He nodded vigorously as he hurriedly tugged a tunic down over his bare chest and grabbed trousers, pulling them up and tying them shut. "I am sorry. I was thoughtless," he tried to say, his voice almost a whisper.

Sarah smiled and shook her head to dispel him of thinking he had anything to apologize for.

She was blushing. She knew she was. She felt it. She had given herself to a man and he had given back. She was married to this man, had taken his name. And now she had slept in his bed, with him. Surely it would be clear to his sister who had been in on their ruse, on their pact, from the beginning, that the pact had fallen apart. That Sarah had done more than just sleeping when she slept in Chuck's bedroom.

And so it would all be revealed.

Which was just as well.

So Sarah knew from this point on, she would be a wife in more than just name. And he would be her husband in more than just name. What it would look like moving forward, neither knew. But like Chuck had said last night, perhaps they could just allow themselves to be. And then they would go from there.

Chuck went to the bedroom door and opened it, stepping into the hallway, but then he stopped, turned to look at her still sitting in the bed unmoving, and he rushed back to her, stooping low, putting a gentle hand on her cheek, and leaning in to kiss her forehead, stooping even lower to press his lips to hers.

He pulled back at the sound of the back door opening, they met panicked gazes, and he was gone again, shutting the bedroom door securely behind him.

Sarah let out a rough breath, her eyelids fluttering shut, and she heard voices downstairs. She hurried out of the bed, trying to make her step light, wanting to allow Chuck to control the pace at which he revealed all of this to his sister. And when she finished dressing, she would join them.

Ellie would know all.

Spirits, it had all happened so fast…

}o{

"Morning."

Ellie looked up from where she was peeling off her shoes, giving her brother an exhausted smile. "Good morn—What? What happened?"

She dropped both shoes by the door and straightened to her full height, closing the distance as she unwound her wrap from around her shoulders and tossed it over the nearby chair.

"Hap-Happened? I was going to ask ye the same. The new Garnet babe? Is it well?" He sent her a wily look. "A boy, is it not?"

She grumbled. "Aye, 'tis. You bastard, thou hast won."

He pumped his fists in the air over his head and she giggled, rolling her eyes. "And he is well? Healthy? All fingers and toes accounted for?"

"All is well, yea." She smiled. "And mother is well. Everyone is well."

"I am proud of thee, sister." He wound an arm around her shoulders, ignoring the nerves spilling through him to give her a tight hug.

"Mm. Thank ye. However, I wilt not allow thee to change the subject. Because ye had…have quite the look on thy face."

"No look."

"Chuck…"

She would always be so hard to fool and he knew it. And still sometimes he tried it. And failed.

"Perhaps thou wouldst like coffee, some bread and butter? Cheese? Here, come sit, Ellie." He took her arm and led her to their table, forcing her to sit. "I will make breakfast for the three of us."

Oh. Damn it.

He heard it immediately and turned away to start the water.

Perhaps she hadn't heard—

"Three?"

Spirits be damned anyway.

"Hm?" Chuck began to light the oven, watching as the straw caught fire from his flint, pushing it into the wood and catching it as well.

"Do not 'hm?' at me, brother. Thou sayeth ye will make breakfast for three of us." Chuck didn't reply, instead poking the fire with another stick of wood, pushing that in as well to stoke it. "Ignore me at thy peril, young man." He tried to ignore her anyway. "Who is this third person?"

"'Tis I."

Chuck froze for a moment, and then he spun, seeing Sarah in the doorway to the kitchen, the skirt and blouse she wore the night before when she arrived covering her lithe form, her hair in a loose braid now. She had dressed quickly.

And now…it all began.

He turned to look at his sister as well. She stared at Sarah, eyes wide. Eleanor Bartowski was the smartest person he had ever met. It would take no time whatsoever for her to realize why Sarah was here at this early of an hour in the morning.

And so he braced himself. And he could see Sarah was bracing herself as well.

Ellie slowly shifted her gaze from Sarah and looked at Chuck. And then a slow smile grew over her face, her green eyes getting a particular glint in them.

"I will take that coffee and breakfast for three after all."

Her smile widened. Sarah shot Chuck an unsure glance.

"Ellie, I—That is, we…" And that seemed to be all Sarah could get out, circumstances being what they were, her cheeks pink. It was more than clear why she was here at this hour. Ellie knew.

The physician reached towards the younger woman, adoration in her eyes. "Come, sister, and join me. This fellow here will join us forthwith."

Chuck watched as his wife smiled at his sister, then crossed the kitchen to sit in the chair Ellie had pushed out for her invitingly. He pumped water into the pot and moved to the stove, setting it there to boil, and then he moved to take down a loaf of bread.

"Neither of ye have to say a single word to me," Ellie announced then. He stopped halfway through slicing the loaf, turning to look at her. There was an air of knowing, of almost smugness, to his sister. And he sighed, resisting the urge to roll his eyes. "'Twas a sure bet these two most important people who had entered into a pact of marital convenience would find their way together. I would have staked my practice on it."

He and Sarah exchanged a look, and the latter turned to Ellie, squirming in discomfort. "…What…dost thou mean?"

"My dearest friend," Ellie said, covering Sarah's hand with her own and leaning in. "It means I saw the love ages ago. And I knew—I knew—all I had to do was wait, I did not know how long, before ye would both come to see it as well as I. At least I hoped." A look of glee came over her face. "At this early of an hour in the morn, I imagine I am right in my assumption?"

Chuck blushed and went back to slicing the bread, concentrating hard on the task. He needed his fingers and hands for his trade and could not afford to injure either.

Sarah was silent.

So he took up the burden. "Sarah slept in my bed through the night."

There was silence, a long silence, and finally his sister's voice burst throughout the kitchen: "Praise the spirits! 'Tis about time!"

Chuck hung his head and lifted the hand that wasn't holding the breadknife to pinch the bridge of his nose. "Ellie, please."

"I just wanted ye both to be happy, that is all. And I did not want to impose myself onto thee. Neither of thee." She was brimming, the grin on her face so wide he thought it might split her head in two. "But!" She held up her hand, a dignified look to her face. "I will press not for more information. 'Tis the business of ye, brother, and thy wife. Not my business. Just know I am happy. So happy." She grabbed Sarah's hand and beamed even harder at the heiress.

It seemed Sarah couldn't help but beam back. "Naught has been decided. Only that…" She turned her gaze to Chuck as he came over to the table to set the bread down between the women. "I love him."

Chuck smiled down at her, his heart racing in his chest.

"But Sarah, that is all that matters," Ellie said gently, moving her hand to Sarah's shoulder and squeezing.

"I think so," Sarah said, meeting his gaze still.

"We will figure the rest out in time," he replied.

And then his sister was back on her feet with a tired grunt and he was enveloped in a tight hug, chuckling as he hugged her back. "I am so happy, so proud, so filled with joy. The rest will fall into place when it must. 'Til then, we will allow ourselves to be."

Chuck raised his eyebrows at Sarah who merely smiled wider. She remembered just as well as he did. His sister had just espoused his very same view on how they moved forward.

"I said the same," Chuck said quietly. "We will allow ourselves to be."

Ellie unclenched her arms from his shoulders and leaned back, cupping his face. "And well. Where dost thou think ye got it from?"

They laughed together, and Chuck squirmed from her grip to unwrap the block of cheese, slicing it before bringing it on the cheeseboard over to the table, as well as the butter.

And they sat down to eat, Ellie moving to finish the coffee once the water boiled. And as she did, Chuck felt Sarah's hand slide over his knee under the table, squeezing. He turned to meet her gaze and smiled.

For the first time, this felt like family. Real family. Lasting family.

And he would savor the moment, the tiredness in his bones and the contentment that filled him to the brim. He was happy in love, happy in family.

And it seemed none of them were going anywhere anytime soon.

A/N: The end. Thanks for waiting and continuing to read even after the long, necessary break.

Let me know what you thought. And stay safe, stay strong. But only if you believe in democracy and not fascism. If you're rooting for the fascists, I only wish weakness and failure for you.

-SC