The Love Boat

A/N: Thank you all for braving this fic with me. I know it’s been hard. Seriously, do you need to get your sugar checked? Your A1C? If you want something serious and realistic, this ain’t it.

Disclaimer: I don’t own Chuck

Then [redacted]

“I now pronounce you man and wife,” the captain said. “You may kiss your bride.” Chuck turned to her, a smile on his face. She knew it was real. She knew in his head he was thinking about how he wished this could be real. Not necessarily with her, also not necessarily with anyone else either. When he kissed her, it began gently. Now, it wasn’t the one of the top five kisses in the history of the world, but it was the greatest kiss Sarah Walker had ever received.

She had been kissed by men who wanted her. She had been kissed by men that said they loved her.

This kiss…it said all of that and was also the most gentle thing she had ever felt in her life. Eight-year-old her was OUT OF HER MIND! Adult Sarah wasn't far behind.

“Anything there is that I can do for you, I will do for you; anything there is that I cannot do, I will learn to do.”

As she pulled away from their kiss, she knew that quote was going to be true.

They walked out, onto the boat, hand in hand, the sun shining down, and that’s when Chuck turned to her.

“I feel I have a duty to fulfill as your husband,” he said softly.

She turned to him, a smile on her face that she knew was too much. She KNEW was suggestive, and she didn’t even try to stop it. She didn’t even pretend it was for the cover. “I think I like married Chuck.”

“Well, he likes you,” he blurted out before he realized what she was implying. His eyes went wide, and the shade of red he turned was a debate Sarah would have internally for years to come.

“Not…THAT!” he said in a low, but intense, whisper. She bounced a shoulder, and the color intensified. Sarah bit the inside of her cheek to keep from laughing. She was beginning to suspect that making Chuck Bartowski blush might become a hobby one she wanted to do for the rest of her life.

He cleared his throat. “I need to buy you some clothes,” he told her. She gave him a look. “This isn’t me being all macho man-y.”

“Macho…man-y?” she asked, a grin on her face. “Is that a technical term?”

“Very.

“Yeah, you know, ‘you my woman.’” Sarah couldn’t help but laugh. “But there are some people looking for a single woman, probably without clothes.” Sarah nodded, beginning to understand. “If you go clothes shopping, it could look suspicious.”

“But if newly married Mrs. Bartowski, the ditz, went shopping, looking for clothes that made her husband happy-”

“Wait, what?” Chuck asked.

“Well, let’s be honest, I gotta make my man happy,” she told him, running her fingers from his earlobe down his neck. She watched him swallow, panic, break out into a sweat, and his brain melt all in less than a tenth of a second.

Sarah filed that reaction away for future use. The Chuck Bartowski file inside her brain was getting bigger and bigger, and she didn’t care.

His hand caught her wrist, and he looked into her eyes. She saw what was in those eyes. “There’s one part of this that is non-negotiable.” His voice…was breaking…and it was doing things to her that were shocking the eight-year-old in her. This was probably age-inappropriate for the eight-year-old, but she tended not to listen to anyone, especially when she found something interesting.

“I’m listening,” she replied, her eyes locked with his, his hand still, firmly, but gently around her wrist. He let go, never breaking eye contact.

“You could have probably flipped me around, pinned my arm to my back and taken out my spleen,” he said still holding her wrist. He let it go.

“I would never do that to you,” she said in the same voice. Low but full of….something she wasn’t ready to name. She knew what it was. He KNEW what it was, but, they weren’t going to name it…yet. “But, let’s be honest, you'd have enjoyed it.”

“I know,” he answered.

That answer surprised her. He was learning. A smile played on her lips.

“The part that’s non-negotiable.” She nodded for him to continue. “I pay.” She started to open her mouth. “If you pay, it will send up red flags. I pay, I’m a husband…a very…happy husband-”

“How do they know you’re happy?” Sarah asked teasingly.

“Sarah…anyone looking at me can tell I am so far in over my head and loving every minute of it,” he said honestly.

God she loved him.

She would have rolled her eyes, but in that moment, Chuck would have thought she was rolling her eyes at him. That wasn’t true.

It was her.

More specifically eight year-old her.

She was screaming yes at the top of her lungs.

She was doing the Backpack Kid dance…badly.

She was stomping her feet, throwing her fists in the air.

She was on her back, both kicking her feet and punching air.

Fine. She loved him. There. Was that so hard?

“I love Westley. I always have. I know now, I always will.”

“I agree to those terms but you have to watch me try on everything so I can see what my husband prefers,” she told him.

“Sarah,” he said, his voice steadier than she thought it would be. A part of her said she should turn up the heat. Hell, all of her agreed with that part.

“When I try on socks, should it be just the socks I’m trying on, or should I be fully clothed?”

“Sarah,” he said, his voice breaking.

“I mean, you should see how they make my calves look,” she continued.

“Sarah.” It. Was. Breaking.

She leaned in. “Is my husband a….stockings guy?”

“If jump overboard right now, the entire ocean will disappear in evaporation from me trying to cool myself off,” Chuck blurted out. “Oh my God, I just said that out loud. You have broken my brain.”

“Understand, Chuck Bartowski,” she said in a low voice, somehow getting closer, but an acceptable distance in public. “That when you tell me, non-negotiable, I feel backed into a corner and I will fight my way out. With actions come consequences.”

“Noted,” Chuck said. “I amend my earlier non-negotiable, and ask, humbly ask, that you take this credit card,” he said pulling it out of his pocket, and holding it between them. She could see it. Black. Her eyes went wide. “And you buy clothes to protect yourself. We can talk about the card color later.” He paused. “Not in public.”

She nodded. “I accept your terms,” she said, gently taking the card out of his grasp. “And I humbly…ask, not beg…not yet.” She watched him swallow. “That you join me as I try on clothes…not socks…not yet.”

Chuck closed his eyes for half a second, as though mentally adding “socks” to the list of things he was never going to survive.

“Is it for the cover?” he blurted out quietly. He shut his eyes. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t…I…I’m sorry, Sarah. I-”

“No,” she replied. “It’s not.” He opened his eyes and saw her smiling at him.

“You’re enjoying this.”

“Like you’re not.” She couldn't argue with that.

“Never said I wasn’t,” he told her. She smiled, took his hand and led him to the shop.

}o{

Now

Graham had turned away from his desk and was working on a file. Chuck leaned over to Sarah. “I have some things I need to talk to you about later. Some…non-negotiable things.”

He leaned back, a smile on his face. Sarah leaned over to him. “And I’m not wearing socks,” she said. She leaned back over as she watched his brain melt and trickle out of his ear.

“I’m so glad I went on that cruise,” he muttered. Sarah couldn’t help but laugh out loud.

A/N: You’re never looking at socks the same way, are you?