Chuck vs the Adventures in Buymoria

Chapter 5 – Safety

The morning sun was still low on the horizon when Sarah informed him that he needed to learn how to fight. Chuckles at first thought she was joking. Then he saw her face.

She wasn't.

A thin mist hung over the grass in the clearing, the cold dew clinging to Chuckles' bare ankles as he tried to decide why, after yesterday's magical map incident, this was the very next punishment life had in store for him. Sarah stood a few paces ahead of him without her armor, serene and composed, as if she weren't about to practice hand-to-hand combat with a man who, just yesterday, couldn't even figure out which end of a magic wand to hold.

"So," Chuckles began cautiously, "when you said you were going to teach me to fight, did you mean you were actually going to try to hit me?"

Sarah nodded. "Yes."

"Just to be clear, is this some kind of Amazon tradition, or personal revenge for the kiss?"

Sarah's gaze flicked briefly to her hands. "Self-defense."

"Oh. That's much more comforting."

Sarah stepped closer. "Magic won’t save your sorry ass if someone jumps you. Get into a basic stance."

Chuckles gave it a try. Sarah looked him up and down. "No."

"No?"

"That's not a basic stance."

"Feels pretty basic to me."

Sarah sighed softly and stepped behind him. Chuckles instantly sensed that she was far too close. He didn't just see it—he felt it. The morning air was cool, yet Sarah's presence made his skin feel strangely warm. A moment later, her palm pressed against his shoulder, gently nudging him back. Her other hand adjusted his elbow.

"Like this."

Chuckles tried to focus on what she was saying. He really tried. Except Sarah was standing directly behind him. He felt the shift of her movement as she adjusted her balance. He heard her soft breathing. He felt her fingers on his arm as she adjusted his posture, and for some utterly nonsensical reason, he was far more concerned with when she was going to pull her hand away than with what she was actually teaching him.

Sarah's fingers finally lifted. And Chuckles was instantly hit by an overwhelming sense of absence.

This is not normal.

"Don't tense your shoulders," Sarah said.

"I'm not tensing."

Sarah looked at him. "You are."

"Fine. But only because there's an elite Amazon warrior standing right behind me, which is slightly stressful."

A tiny movement appeared at the corner of Sarah's mouth. It wasn't a smile. Almost, though. Chuckles caught it. And suddenly, whether his stance was right or wrong didn't matter so much anymore. He wanted to make her laugh.

Sarah stepped back. "I'm attacking."

"Right now?"

Sarah struck. Chuckles stepped back instinctively, but Sarah's next movement caught him right at the wrist. Her fingers locked around his hand, twisting it, and Chuckles dropped to one knee. The pain was sharp. Sarah's hand, however, was warm.

Instead of trying to break free, Chuckles spent a moment simply staring at Sarah's fingers.

"Are you paying attention?"

"Sure."

"Doesn't look like it."

"I'm paying attention to my wrist."

Sarah twisted slightly harder. "Then pay attention to how you get out of it."

Chuckles hissed through his teeth, finally making a move. Sarah let go. He pulled himself back up.

"That hurt."

"Good."

"Not the response I was hoping for."

Sarah had already resumed her fighting stance. And Chuckles realized something.

He didn't want this to end. Not the fighting. Sarah's touch.

The realization hit him so fast that for a split second, he completely forgot about the next incoming attack. Sarah seized the opportunity. A step, then a turn, and somehow this time, Chuckles knew what to do. He dodged to the side, and Sarah's hand missed his shoulder.

Chuckles grinned. "Did you see that?"

Sarah turned. "I saw."

"I did it."

"Yes."

That brief answer somehow meant far more to him than it should have. Sarah was proud of him. At least a little, and suddenly, Chuckles wanted to do even better. Sarah attacked again. Now he was paying attention to her movement, the shuffle of her feet, the posture of her shoulders. And, at the same time, to the way Sarah's hair moved with every turn, the way the morning light slid across her face, the way her breathing quickened ever so slightly with each repeated strike.

He was paying attention to far too many things, and far too little to the actual fight. With a swift motion, Sarah snagged his arm, and Chuckles stepped back. Sarah's momentum carried her forward.

And before either of them could adjust, Chuckles' arm wrapped around Sarah's waist.

She collided softly against him, almost falling on the moss below.

They froze.

Chuckles' hand rested on her waist, and Sarah's palm rested on his chest. Their faces were so close that Chuckles no longer felt the crisp morning air. He smelled Sarah's scent, the radiating heat from her skin, the faint, fruity fragrance of her hair, and the slow exhale of her breath against him.

Chuckles' heart beat wildly, as if trying to break free from his chest.

Sarah looked down at his hand.

Chuckles followed her gaze.

Only then did he realize he was still holding her. He let go instantly. "Sorry."

Sarah looked up at him; she wasn't angry. Which, somehow for Chuckles, was even worse.

Because Chuckles had no idea what to do with the fact that Sarah had been so close to him, and now she wasn't anymore.

Sarah took a half-step back. Chuckles' eyes followed her.

Automatically, Sarah noticed. "What is it?"

"Nothing."

Sarah stared at him.

Chuckles knew she didn't believe him for a second. "Just…" he began, then paused. "I think I'm starting to get it."

"Get what?"

Chuckles gestured around the clearing. "The fighting."

Sarah's face remained utterly inscrutable. "Good."

She turned around. Chuckles stood watching her for a few beats.

Then he stepped after her. Closer than was strictly necessary.

Sarah stopped. "Why are you following me?"

Chuckles glanced around, as if the answer were hidden somewhere among the trees. "Safety."

Sarah turned slowly toward him. "I'm the only one here who has attacked you."

Chuckles considered this. "True, but at least you give fair warning."

The corner of Sarah's mouth twitched. That almost-smile again, and Chuckles realized that this alone made the entire morning worth it.

Sarah stepped back in front of him. "Again."

Chuckles assumed his stance. He wasn't so afraid anymore of the pain, because he knew Sarah was going to touch him again, and in some entirely baffling way, he was already looking forward to it. The next days, these sparring sessions were the highlight of his day.

XXXXXXXXXXX

A few evenings later, as the campfire burned down to a soft crackle, Chuckles sat beside Sarah once again. The others were resting scattered around the campsite, and somehow he had wound up right where he had so often over the past few days.

Sarah watched the embers for a while before glancing sideways at him.

“Why are you always right next to me?”

Chuckles stared into the fire. “Safety?”

Sarah looked around. Casey was sitting thirty feet away on a fallen log. Bryce was keeping watch on the far side of camp. And Morgan was rummaging around somewhere in the dark, doing something to impress Alexis. Sarah preferred not to think about it.

She turned back to Chuckles. “Safety?”

“Yes.”

Sarah watched him for a few seconds. Then that tiny, familiar smile twitched at the corner of her lips. “Right.”

She didn't move away, and Chuckles shifted just a little bit closer. Sarah let him.

XXXXXXXXXXX

“Dad?”

“Yes, sweetheart?”

“So… are they in love then?”

Morgan smiled softly. “I think so, yeah.”

Leila thought about that for a moment. “Then why were they fighting each other?”

Morgan stared into the embers for a moment. “Sweetheart, love comes in many forms. And not every form is simple.”

Luke chimed in: “Was it because of the magic kiss?”

Morgan smiled faintly. “That’s what Sarah tried to convince herself.”

XXXXXXXXXXX

Toshy Station looked less like a welcoming inn and more like a place where civilization had simply given up trying. The floor clung stickily to the soles of their boots, and the air was thick with the heavy stench of ale, pipe smoke, and some inexplicably fried meat. In the dark corner, a three-eyed musician was hammering out a tune that Morgan would later describe as “the Mos Eisley cantina, but with even worse life choices.”

Chuckles searched the room for Sarah almost immediately upon stepping through the creaking doorway.

He found her instantly.

XXXXXXXXXXX

“He found her! " Yay, Daddy!” Leila chimed in.

“Hush now!” said Luke, eager to listen to the story.

XXXXXXXXXXX

Sarah was standing near a corner table, arms crossed over her chest, calmly scanning the crowd as if she weren't in the middle of a dive tavern where a heavily bearded dwarf was currently trying to murder a wooden chair with a pewter tankard.

Chuckles didn't even realize he was smiling until Morgan nudged him sharply in the ribs.

“Don't stare,” Morgan muttered beside him.

“I'm not staring.”

“You haven't blinked in five seconds, buddy.”

Chuckles finally dragged his eyes away. “It's a security assessment.”

Morgan grinned widely. “Riiiight. Of course.”

A few minutes later, a minor brawl erupted at the far end of the taproom. It wasn't particularly dangerous—just local drunks letting off steam—but it gave Chuckles his first real chance to put Sarah’s morning lessons to the test.

One of the tavern's strays came lunging toward him with a wild, swinging fist. Chuckles took a deliberate step to the side. The man missed entirely, overextending, and Chuckles brought him down with an awkward-looking but surprisingly precise sweep of his foot. The man hit the sticky floorboards with a dull thud.

XXXXXXXXXXX

“Not ‘the Morgan’ again,” said Alexis.

“Wasn’t ‘the Morgan’, okay?! Let me finish.

XXXXXXXXXXX

A brief silence settled over their immediate circle. Chuckles looked over at Casey first, then at Bryce, and finally at Sarah.

Sarah met his eager gaze. “Nice work,” she said softly.

That was it. Just two words, but something warm and deeply satisfying expanded in Chuckles' chest. “Thank you,” he said.

Bryce stepped forward, tapping Chuckles' shoulder. “It really was.”

Chuckles nodded earnestly. “Yeah. Sarah said so too.”

Bryce looked at him, his brow furrowing slightly. “Did you need to say that?”

“No,” Chuckles admitted.

“Yes, he did,” Morgan piped up immediately from behind them.

Chuckles turned his head slowly. “Morgan.”

“Just helping!”

Sarah was still watching the three of them bantering. Only then did Chuckles notice that she was smiling —not at him in amusement, but because of them. And somehow, that felt even better than landing the strike.

Sarah turned and began walking toward the exit. Without a single second of hesitation, Chuckles followed automatically in her wake.

Behind them, Morgan let out a low sigh. “Oh, this is bad.”

Casey grunted, looking down at him as he and Alexis returned with the fresh supplies. “What?”

Morgan watched Sarah and Chuckles step out into the night together. “Nothing. Just… I don't think Chuckles is fighting just to stay alive anymore.”