Chuck versus The Last Wish

Chapter 28 – About us

A/N: Fair warning — things get a little more intimate in this chapter.

Chuck stepped out of the kitchen carrying the steaming baking dish, but paused in the doorway, frozen in place.

Sarah was across the room, helping Alex set the dining table. The mauve sleeveless top she wore subtly traced the lines of her figure, while her black trousers gave her a simple, effortless elegance. Her blonde hair was pulled back into a soft ponytail, a small pendant resting against the hollow of her throat. The serene, contented smile on her face made her look so completely at ease that Chuck forgot to breathe for a moment.

His eyes traveled over her slowly. It still felt like a beautiful impossibility—that this incredible woman was his wife, that she was standing right there in the warm light, smiling again, alive and almost whole. For one brief moment, the noise of the world fell away. The missions, the shadow of constant danger, the lingering tragedy of her lost memories—all of it vanished. There was only Sarah. The woman he would move heaven and earth for, and whose simple presence filled him with a gratitude he could never adequately articulate.

Sarah looked up, catching him staring. She offered a soft smile, tilting her head slightly to the side. “What?”

Chuck shook his head quickly, feeling like a teenager caught doing something he wasn't supposed to. “Nothing… nothing. I just still can’t believe you’re my wife.”

Sarah’s smile broadened, her eyes softening. “Good. Because I can.”

Chuck chuckled, walking over to the dining table and setting the hot dish down on a trivet. “Okay… before anyone asks… yes, this is the same lasagna I made last time. And yes, the kitchen survived again.”

From the end of the table, Casey let out a low, gravelly grunt. “Disappointing.”

Morgan laughed, waving a fork. “Oh, come on, Casey! Give the guy some credit! Chuck is almost as good a cook as—”

Alex nudged him sharply in the ribs with her elbow. “Think very carefully about how you finish that sentence.”

Morgan immediately raised both hands in complete surrender. “…as someone who’s had a lot of practice.”

Gertrude offered an approving nod. “Smart choice.”

Chuck glanced sideways at Sarah with an amused smirk. “You’re going to help me if this somehow turns into a family argument, right?”

Sarah shrugged casually. “Depends who wins.”

“Sarah!”

“I’m kidding,” she murmured, that familiar, playful little twitch appearing at the corner of her mouth.

As the chatter settled, Morgan leaned in and served himself a second generous portion of lasagna. “Okay, I have to tell Gertrude about this. You know, that one time at the Buy More…”

Chuck let out a long, theatrical sigh. “Oh, no.”

“Oh, yes!” Morgan insisted, pointing his fork. “When Jeff and Lester tried to build that homemade—”

“Rocket,” Sarah finished cleanly.

A sudden, dead silence descended upon the table.

Morgan blinked, his mouth hanging half-open. “Yes… the rocket.”

Sarah’s fork hovered motionless halfway to her mouth. She froze, the subtle shift in the room's energy washing over her. Something strange and instinctual had just surfaced.

“Sorry… I—” she started, her brow furrowing.

Morgan leaned forward, his eyes wide. “You remember it?”

Sarah slowly shook her head, looking subtly disoriented. “No… I mean…” She stopped, searching for the right words.

Chuck didn’t interject. He didn't push. He simply watched her with quiet, unwavering patience.

Sarah closed her eyes for a brief second, sifting through the echo in her mind. “I can’t see it… I just… knew how you were going to finish the sentence.”

Alex smiled gently from across the table. “That’s something.”

Morgan was still staring at Sarah in total disbelief. “You’re saying you remember Jeff’s rocket?”

Sarah offered him a faint, bittersweet smile. “Not the rocket.”

Morgan blinked, thoroughly confused. “You.”

The room fell quiet again. Sarah seemed almost surprised by the honesty of her own answer. “I knew you’d told me this story a lot of times before.”

Slowly, the confusion melted from Morgan’s face, replaced by a warm, beaming grin. “Well… yeah. At least… eighty times.”

“Ninety-three,” Chuck corrected dryly from the head of the table.

Morgan whipped his head around to stare at him. “You counted?”

“After the first twenty, it became a matter of strict scientific curiosity.”

A chorus of genuine laughter broke out around the table, shattering the sudden weight in the air. Sarah looked up, her gaze locking with Chuck’s. He didn’t ask any questions. He didn’t try to analyze the moment, dissect the neural pathways, or weigh what it meant for her recovery. They simply shared a quiet, profound smile—a silent connection that lasted only a second, but held the entire world within it.

XXXXXXXXXXX

The evening slowly began to wind down, the quiet, comfortable hum of a satisfied household settling over the house.

Morgan and Alex gathered the empty plates to carry into the kitchen, with Chuck following right behind them to tackle the cookware. In the living room, Gertrude remained curled on the sofa, pouring herself another glass of wine.

Noticing that the patio door stood slightly ajar, Sarah stepped outside into the quiet night. The evening air was pleasantly cool against her skin, carrying the crisp scent of damp grass and earth.

Barely half a minute passed before the glass door creaked open behind her. Casey stepped out onto the porch, a cold bottle of beer resting loosely in his hand. He came to a stop beside her, leaning his shoulders back against the house frame.

For a long while, neither of them said a word, simply watching the dark silhouette of the yard.

“He cooks well,” Casey finally remarked, his voice a low rumble.

Sarah smiled softly, looking out at the tree line. “Yeah.”

Another comfortable silence stretched between them. Casey took a long drag from his bottle, his eyes tracking the dark shadows of the garden.

“How are you?”

Sarah glanced sideways at him, letting out a slow, quiet breath. “Better.”

Casey gave a single nod. “I can see that.”

“I don’t remember anything,” Sarah murmured, her voice dropping into a rare moment of unguarded honesty.

“I know.”

“Sometimes it’s like… I know something, but I don’t know where it comes from.”

“I saw it in there,” Casey said quietly, looking at her profile.

Sarah lowered her eyes, staring down at her folded hands. “Sometimes it scares me.”

“Doesn’t scare me though.”

Sarah looked up at him, searching his stoic face.

Casey took a slow sip of his beer. “Reflexes always come back faster than memories.”

Sarah thought about that, letting the truth of it settle into her chest. “How do you know?”

The faintest hint of a smile appeared at the corner of Casey’s mouth—so subtle anyone else would have missed it. He said nothing, simply nodding his chin toward the warm, brightly lit interior of the apartment.

Sarah understood instantly. “Chuck helps a lot.”

For the first time, Casey turned his body fully toward her, his posture uncharacteristically gentle. “You used to look after him, Walker.” He paused, letting the weight of the years hang between them. “Now he looks after you.”

Sarah’s expression softened, a deep, quiet warmth settling behind her eyes. “Yeah.”

Casey nodded firmly. “Actually… you and Bartowski are pretty good at looking after each other.”

Sarah didn’t offer a verbal answer. She simply looked out into the cool night, a faint, tranquil smile gracing her lips.

From inside the kitchen, Morgan’s dramatic voice shattered the quiet moment, echoing clearly through the open patio door: “Chuck! This isn’t washing dishes, this is an archaeological excavation!”

Chuck’s indignant protest followed half a second later: “Hey! Burnt cheese is a flavor enhancer!”

Sarah let out a soft laugh, resting her hand against the doorframe.

Casey shook his head, a grunt escaping his chest. “Idiots.” He turned his head to look back through the glass, where Chuck was currently defending his culinary honor with increasingly animated hand gestures over the sink. A rare, fond softened edge crept into Casey's rough voice. “But at least they’re our idiots.”

They stood together on the porch in comfortable silence for a few minutes more, quietly finishing their drinks in the cool air before turning back inside to rejoin the family.

XXXXXXXXXXX

Chuck turned off the last lamp in the living room, plunging the apartment into a soft, amber-dappled darkness fed only by the streetlights outside. The quiet felt profound, washed clean of the day's noise.

“So I’ll…”

He was about to turn toward the bedroom when Sarah suddenly reached out and took his hand. With one firm movement, she pulled him back toward her, erasing the distance between them.

Chuck laughed in surprise, stumbling slightly before finding his balance against her. “Whoa… didn’t see that coming.”

Sarah just looked up at him, her blue eyes reflecting the dim shadows. A faint, knowing smile lingered at the corner of her mouth. “I know.”

“Is this… some new hand-to-hand combat technique?” Chuck asked, his voice dropping an octave as his eyes searched hers.

Sarah slowly shook her head, her hand sliding up to the back of his neck. “Maybe.” She stepped even closer, her body warm against his. “I missed you.”

Chuck’s face immediately softened, the lingering fatigue of the week instantly melting away. “Missed you too.”

Sarah gently grabbed him by the front of his shirt and pulled him even closer, until there wasn't a breath of air separating them. “Then don’t go anywhere.”

Chuck smiled, his arms settling naturally around her waist. “Wasn’t planning to.”

Sarah leaned in and kissed him for a long, lingering moment—a slow, deep taste of relief and belonging that grounded them both. When they finally parted, Chuck rested his forehead against hers and said quietly, “That was the best homecoming.”

Sarah didn’t answer with words. Instead, she tightened her grip on his hand and silently led him toward the bedroom. Chuck let her lead him, the familiar rhythm of their steps echoing down the short hallway.

“You know… I really don’t mind this kind of training,” he murmured, a fond grin breaking across his face.

Sarah didn’t look back, but he could hear the amusement in her tone. “I figured.”

Chuck followed her with a smile, the heavy weight of the past days completely dissolving. They had barely crossed the bedroom threshold when Sarah turned back toward him in the darkness and kissed him once more, fervent and unreserved. Chuck let her take control for a brief moment, breathing her in, before his own smile widened with playful confidence.

“My turn!”

With that, he slipped his hand into Sarah’s pants, his fingers finding her already warm and responsive. Sarah closed her eyes for a moment, letting out a soft, shuddering breath that hitched in her throat.

“Good?” Chuck whispered softly against her cheek. She grabbed his shoulder for balance, her fingers digging instinctively into the fabric of his T-shirt

“Mmm… very,” Sarah moaned, her back tensing in exquisite sensation as her hips instinctively found the right angle against his hand.

“I learned from the best,” Chuck whispered into her ear as Sarah moaned again, a subtle tremble running through her as she surrendered to Chuck taking the initiative.

“Well… well” she sighed, her breath hitching as the electricity between them flared white-hot.

Chuck didn’t slow down. He carefully guided her backward, lowering her onto the soft mattress of the bed. In the dark, they hurriedly tried to get out of their clothes, hands tangling in shirts and fabric in a clumsy rush. Chuck firmly took control, hovering over her in the dark, making sure to take his time… Sarah could feel that, despite their shared eagerness, Chuck’s movements were intensely attentive, almost tender, his body instinctively adjusting to every subtle shift and movement of her hips like he knew every move by heart. For a brief, fleeting moment, as warmth flooded her chest she couldn’t decide whether her husband simply knew her body this well or whether the Intersect had somehow kicked in.

She gripped the cool cotton sheets tighter and tighter beneath her, feeling that she needed to hold on to something real before the overwhelming pleasure building inside her broke through again…

“Time out!” Chuck said suddenly, stopping dead in his tracks.

A quiet, helpless sigh escaped Sarah involuntarily. She was only a single, agonizing moment away from what she had been waiting for all day. She blinked up into the gloom.

“What is it?”

Chuck clenched his teeth, grimacing in pain. “Ah… my calf… it’s cramping really badly!”

He carefully stretched out his right leg with a stifled groan, gritting his teeth while Sarah patiently waited, propped up on one elbow, waiting for the sudden spasm to subside. Her expression gradually shifted from raw, breathless passion to that familiar, quietly amused look reserved only for him.

“Is it gone?” she asked softly, resting her other hand gently on his shoulder.

Chuck cautiously moved his leg, testing the muscle. “Yeah.”

Sarah nodded, her chest rising and falling. “Good.”

She watched him for another quiet moment in the dark, her gaze softening, before adding with a playful half-smile, “Should I be on top?”

Chuck looked at her, his brow furrowing in mock consideration as he tried to keep a straight face. “Is that a medical question?”

Sarah laughed—a clear, beautiful sound—then reached out, pulled Chuck close again, and kissed him deeply. In that overwhelming moment, Chuck could think of nothing except giving his wife as much pleasure and comfort as humanly possible. Sarah’s fingers instinctively tightened around Chuck’s shoulders, pulling him down to her. A moment earlier she had still been hyper-aware of her own ragged breathing; now all she could feel was her husband’s solid closeness and the rapid, rhythmic rise and fall of his chest. Sarah’s head fell back against the pillow, her hand tightening convulsively against the sheets again.

Only a quiet “Ah” escaped her slightly parted lips.

Sarah closed her eyes completely. The room disappeared around her; the lingering horrors and the whole crazy spy world vanished into thin air. Nothing remained except Chuck’s closeness, her own breathing, and those glorious moments in which she was utterly incapable of thinking anymore. Her body tensed for breath-taking seconds beneath Chuck, and Sarah didn’t try to hold it back or control it. She simply let the sensation run completely through her, feeling Chuck’s hand pause at her side, his own body tensing in tandem as they both climaxed together in the quiet dark.

Their frantic movements slowly grew still, replaced by the deep, heavy rhythm of recovery.

Chuck lay down beside her on his side, and Sarah didn’t want to let him go for a single second. She cuddled close against his chest, wrapping her arm over his waist and pressing her face into the crook of his neck.

For a long while, they lay silently in the dark, listening to the quiet hum of the apartment. Sarah leaned closer, her warm lips almost touching Chuck’s earlobe.

“I’ve been waiting for this all day,” she whispered softly.

Chuck turned his head, resting his forehead gently against hers. “Me too.”

“Did you learn this from the best too?” Sarah whispered, a fond, quiet smile tracing her words in the dark.

Chuck tightened his arm around her, kissing her temple softly as he simply replied: “From you.”