summary: On his last night home in LA before becoming a field agent, Chuck finds himself begrudgingly dragged to a nightclub, all thanks to Morgan. But what he meets there, or rather, who he meets there, is about to change his life, and his future spy career, in ways he can't possibly imagine. AU.

a/n: Well hi again! First, let me just say a huge thank you to everyone who reviewed my last/first fic! You were all super kind and I meant to respond to all of you saying thanks, but I forgot and now it's been so long it might be kinda awkward, but I definitely appreciate it all. Like I said, it'd been a while since I'd posted anything, so such lovely feedback was wonderful. With that in mind, then, I thought I'd post something else! I love so many amazing Chuck AUs, and I wanted to try one out for myself and put my own spin on things, taking inspiration from some of my favourite things in canon, and this ole' giant multi-chapter was born.
This is half-prologue, half-first chapter, so it's a little different in style and stuff than other chapters will be, and there could be a lot of questions at the end. If you like it, though, there's a good couple more chapters following on from it where you'll definitely get some answers (eventually, heh), so feel free to leave me a review and let me know if you'd want more! And by the way, note the rating on this one. Some adult stuff lies ahead...
(Oh, and if anyone recognizes the song the title's from, I can't stop listening to it, and it just reminds me of Chuck and Sarah now. Damned earworm.)
disclaimer: I don't own Chuck, hazy clubs, hotel bars, or secretaries that look like Captain Awesome.

2006.
summer.

He hates clubs. Like, really hates them. The pounding music and drunken patrons and incessant smoke that makes the air in the tight space all hazy serves nothing but to give him a headache. Give him a nice cool bar with some easy tunes drifting out the jukebox anytime, but a club, he'd rather pass.
And, he thinks, as another drunk person trips over their own feet and stumbles right onto the floor, tonight he really should've passed.

"Chuck! Dude, isn't this place amazing?" Morgan hollers loudly even though he's right next to him, patting him on the back. One of Morgan's Buy More colleagues suddenly starts slurring loudly in Chuck's other ear. Overall, it's not very pleasant.

"Yeah! Yeah, it's great buddy," he lies, squinting his eyes against the lights somehow intent on blinding him right now. He has to admit, when Morgan had said they were gonna hang out the next time Chuck was in town, this wasn't what he'd been expecting. Clubs didn't used to be Morgan's scene, he much preferred a room with a console and two controllers and the both of them chilling with a pizza until 4am. But Chuck supposes he's seen his friend less and less recently as he's made the transition from analyst to agent on the East Coast and he's been able to visit LA even less than normal, so that he's missed the change isn't surprising, really, just sad. However, he'd been intent on spending some of his sacred four days' vacation time with his childhood friend, and while he hadn't factored Morgan's drunken co-workers and a very loud club into the equation, at least they're still hanging out.

He raises his shoulder into a stretch, cracking his neck at the still-aching muscles. Training's been tough the past few months, working him to the point of exhaustion and building him up from lanky desk nerd to someone more suited to go out on missions, and days later he's still feeling the pain.
Somewhere, somehow, he'd impressed someone higher-up in the CIA with some of his analyst work after years behind a computer, and they'd decided at the drop of a hat to spend time and money making him field-ready, their very own mobile hacker tech support electronic lock breaker, all in one. He snorts to himself. He's like a human Swiss Army Knife, pull on a limb and some kind of helpful tool will be attached to it.

He wonders, absentmindedly, what Bryce would think of what's happening to him, after all this time. But then again, last Chuck heard Bryce was in deep cover in Russia and hadn't set foot on US soil for a good couple years, so he doubts they'll have a chance to awkwardly catch up over coffee before Chuck's finished his training.

"I'm gonna go get another drink," he yells a couple minutes later, when he's just saved a tipsy woman from letting her broken high heel lead to a broken neck, and his bottle is empty of liquid courage all of a sudden. "You want anything?"

Morgan waves him off.
"Nah, I'm good bro, Anna just went to go get me and her another shot!"

Rolling his eyes at his friend and his "sorta-we've-made-out-a-bunch" girlfriend, Chuck slips out of the corner he'd safely tucked himself into and crosses through the melee of people apparently dancing to some kind of tune. The music is so loud he can't even make out the beat.

It takes some waving and yelling to get the bartender to notice him, but she turns round eventually, looking a little impatient. He gets it, it's a crazy night.
"Another one of these, please!" he shouts, waving his empty beer bottle in her direction. She raises an unimpressed eyebrow at his keen tone, and Chuck realizes she's probably more used to grunts and points from drunken customers as opposed to actual politeness.

She's quick, though, handing him a fresh drink and taking his cash within a minute despite the hectic bar, and he lets her keep the change as the least he can do. Agency work pays pretty good when you're on the way up, he's realized recently. He wonders if Ellie and Awesome need a new TV...

"Ugh, c'mon dammit."
The frustrated tone suddenly right next to him makes him quirk an eyebrow in amusement, whoever's standing there sounding not at all happy. Though Chuck really doesn't mean to pry, when he turns his head to look back at where Morgan and his pals were last bopping around, he catches sight of the woman next to him, and tries to stop his mouth from dropping to a gape.
Because, wow, she's gorgeous, with really shiny blonde hair, and she's in a cute dress he thinks might be dark blue but it could also be neon green in this weird club lighting, and she looks incredibly, incredibly pissed off.

All thoughts of Morgan pretty much evaporated, he looks down at the woman- but not too far down, he realizes. She's in giant heels and she's almost matching his height from where he's slouched a little against the bar, which intrigues him way more than it should do. She shuffles on her feet, and it dawns on Chuck then that he's being a complete creep.

"I, uh, I don't mean to sound rude, or weird," he says, calling over the music in a raised voice. She turns to look at him, an understandable little dismissive glint in her eye, and his breath catches in his throat again as he looks at her, properly. Her eye makeup is dark and glittery, popping with the blues (or again, maybe greens) of her eyes, and she's a lot closer than he thought she was, suddenly, because he's looking right at her and she's just staring at him, all close, and his thoughts are veering ridiculously off topic. He swallows, trying to keep it together. Sure, it's been a while, a very long while, since he's been interested in anyone, analyst work keeps you pretty busy, but with this woman, god, it's not just that. He clears his throat, steps back a little. "But are you okay?"

"No. I need a drink and I can't get any service here." Her tone is punctuated and pissed, though he's not sure if that's aimed at him or the club in general, and she turns away from him, trying a gesture instead. But the bartender is still facing away from them, moving on to a new customer, and the woman groans impatiently.

"Wow, okay, um." He straightens, a little amused by her intense frustration over something so regular for a place like this on a night like tonight, and also feeling a little bad for the bartender. Though he thinks about saying that to the person by his side, he decides instead to stand to his full height, conveniently distancing himself a little more from this woman who's making his head spin, and reaches over the bar with a wide wave. "Yo!"

The girl turns almost as if on cue, leaving a disgruntled looking guy still waiting, and Chuck pulls back to take a sip of his beer, feeling a little awkward. He's not quite sure why he did that, or why he's still standing taking up space here when Morgan and his drunk friends are elsewhere, but he's sure it's got a lot to do with the person right next to him. There's just something about her that's scattering his thoughts left right and center and a little part of him wants to figure out just what that is.

"Impressive." The woman in question mutters, before rambling out an order for four drinks so quickly and preparedly Chuck can't even really hear any words before she's finished. Once the bartender has set about making drinks he still can't identify as much more than two shots, one pink thing, and something bubbly with a whole lot of vodka, the woman turns to him, apparently expecting him to speak.

Though he racks his brains for an excuse or explanation, he doesn't really have one, so he settles for humor instead, and shrugs.
"The benefit of long limbs."

To his surprise, the woman laughs. Really, truly, laughs, throws back her head and snorts a little bit. It's not fake or flirty or done for any reason, he apparently genuinely just made her laugh. He blinks.

"I don't suppose you'll pay for it too?" she says, waiting a beat during which his jaw drops. "I'm kidding. My friends could drink anyone out of their bank account, myself included."

He finds himself grinning then, can feel his nose crinkling in that way it does when he smiles too much. Ever since one of his trainers pointed it out as a potential tell, Chuck's found himself way too aware of it, but he figures tonight, he's not on a mission, there's nobody to hide a tell from, and hell, if this woman even picks up on it at all, she doesn't say anything.

He's about to chat more, enjoying this brief reprieve in the madness of this heavy club, but the girl behind the bar turns around and sets all the drinks down, swiping up the woman's cash and letting her pay quickly before turning back round to the next impatient customer, and on top of all that, Chuck thinks he can hear Morgan calling his name. He guesses the craziness is about to return full force.

The woman scoops the many glasses up together, balancing the shots and taking a good drink out the vodka mixer, evidently hers, so it won't spill as she scoops it up with the pink thing.

"Thanks for the help." she says, raising an eyebrow and winking briefly, making his heart stumble over itself, then turning around to head back into the fray.

"See you around!" he calls out for some reason completely unbeknownst to him. She doesn't turn back to face him, but he sees as she raises and drops a shoulder in a shrug and keeps walking toward a group of dancing girls. He watches her a beat longer, then walks away.

"Oh, if it isn't Mr Long Limbs."

He almost drops his drink as he spins around.

It's her. She's smiling at him in the doorway, still in that dark blue (he was right) dress, much easier to see, and somehow even prettier, in the clear night instead of in the bright hazy club. The balcony is empty, squashed cigarette butts scattered around, the cool night air a refreshing change from the heat of the place inside. Chuck had stumbled out here when Morgan and Anna had been making out a little too intensely to the left of him, and an unknown Buy More employee had started dozing off on his shoulder on his right, and it's nice here, lets him clear his head. It's kinda peaceful. Well, as peaceful as the smoker's balcony in a Los Angeles club can get, he supposes.
And, for some reason, this woman's here too.

He hadn't caught sight of her again after the bar until now- the club had just been too busy and too crazy and he'd figured a fun exchange getting drinks was all that was going to come between him and this woman. And yet, here she is, an hour later, right where he is.

"God, please don't call me that," he finds himself saying with a laugh, not as tongue-tied as he'd expected to be though he can see her so much clearer now. There's glitter in her hair and scattered across her cheeks and her lips are shiny and pink and she's incredibly distracting, but his seduction training must be paying off a little because she's smiling right at him and he hasn't even fallen over yet, a definite improvement on what would've happened had this occurred months ago.

"I didn't know what else to call you..."
There should be a suggestion in her words, the way she trails off to let him fill in the blank, but in fact she sounds incredibly innocent. Open.

"Chuck's fine."

As expected, she looks a little surprised as she steps nearer him, walking out from the doorway onto the balcony itself.
"Chuck?"

"Yup, like the shoes, that's me."
As an agent, they want him to go by Charles, think it's more refined and mature and appropriate, less identifying, even though they were fine with plain old Chuck when he was stuck behind a desk. But hey, he's on vacation right now, and honestly, he'd let this woman call him whatever she wanted.

"Sarah." She nods, sipping from the drink in her hand and folding her arms over her chest, before leaning back against the balcony railing. He lets that name sink in, for some reason. "It's crazy in there tonight."

"Yeah, not really my scene, as you could probably guess by the fact that I'm hiding out on the smoker's balcony and I don't even smoke."

Her lips quirk into a smile.
"Not really mine either, but we're both here, so..."

Tipping his head back, he finishes off his beer, lukewarm as it now is.
"Well, I just came with my friend, he wanted to hang out while I was in town. You might've seen him, little guy, beard?"

She narrows her eyes as she takes another sip, and he can tell by the look she sends him that she's about to tease him.
"I think I just met him on my way out here. You should let him know he's lost his shirt, he didn't seem to have noticed."

"Oh god, Morgan..."
His head falls into his hands as he trails off into a chuckle, and he thinks he hears her laughing too. Chuck knows, if Morgan's that tipsy, he really should go back to him, but something about this Sarah makes him feel all lazy and relaxed in a good way, a way the alcohol has failed to tonight thus far. She's easy to talk to and she seems to find him somewhat funny, which is insane. So while Chuck's brain tells him to bundle Morgan into the nearest cab, his feet stay firmly planted on the balcony floor.

Sarah hums.
"So, you're not from here, if you're just back in town?"

"Me? No, I work on the East Coast, I'm just here for a couple days on vacation, visiting my family, my friends, y'know." It could be the last time he sees them for a while if all goes to plan, but he won't tell that to a stranger in a club even if she does keep making his head so fuzzy. She only blinks at his comment. "You?"

"Oh, I don't live here either," She pauses, takes a sip from her glass. "I, um, I travel, a lot. I'm just here with my friends." She sends him a quick smile that he returns in kind.

"Right, the friends who'll drink you out of your bank account, I remember."

She laughs again, for some reason, in that funny real way, then sends him the most beautiful grin he thinks he's ever seen. All big and teeth and crinkling at the corners of her eyes, which seem to be sparkling at him now and it can't possibly just be the glittering club lights, because they're outside right now and there are no club lights. It's all just her.
She drains her drink.

"You want another?" he asks, nodding his head in the direction of her glass.

He watches as she pauses, licks her lips in a way that makes his mind fog up before pursing them a little, then evidently decides.
"You had better luck than me last time, so sure, why not, right?"

"I'll even pay for it this time!"
His joke hits the mark, and she laughs once more.

"Wait, so you call him 'Captain Awesome'?"

He chuckles, wondering quite how to explain the affectionate nickname, and shrugs.
"It just, it fits him, he's awesome! Everything he does is awesome, he's a real adventure type, but he's also ridiculously upbeat all the time, to him, skydiving, flossing, it's all awesome."

Sarah laughs again. If Chuck's learnt nothing else today he has learnt that he loves it, absolutely loves it, when she laughs. It's perfect and soft and aimed at him and the satisfaction he gets from knowing he made that happen, to her, made her laugh, makes his head spin like nothing else for some reason, and it's certainly not the beer's doing.

She sets her empty glass down on the little metal table out on the balcony. They could've moved back inside, he knows, especially when their drinks ran out about ten minutes ago, but they've apparently been ignoring that, and the fact that the summer heat has begun to get a little bit chilly as the night's dragged on.

"But 'Captain Awesome'?" She still can't seem to believe it.

"Seriously. If you met him, you'd get it, right away."

"I'll take your word for it." she says with a grin, and he finds himself beaming right back at her, a little lost in her gaze and yeah just maybe the heat and the alcohol and the night. He's lost track of how long they've been out here, just talking, discussing their lives and their interests and their friends. Admittedly, Sarah hasn't said too much about her own life, but she's been perfectly happy to comment on his, and the sheer interest she apparently finds in him is leaving him reeling just a little. The most beautiful woman he's ever seen, known, came to a club with her probably equally beautiful friends, and instead of partying the night away with them, she's here, on a tiny outdoor balcony, in the kinda cold, with him. A giant nerd with a drunk shirtless friend and a sister with an awesome boyfriend. How or why this is happening, Chuck's not sure, but he very much likes it.

The conversation lulls, just fading away to a comfortable silence, Sarah's smile not abating once, and he leans in to her a little bit, lifting his empty bottle.
"Do you wanna get-"

"Hey, blondie! Get your ass back to this dance floor right- Oh."
Someone interrupts him, and he and Sarah both turn to look at the door that leads back out to the club. Midway through the person's sentence, Chuck sees a flash of brown hair fly round the doorframe followed by a tanned face.

"Did you find her?" Someone else unidentified says, and he can just about hear the clip clopping of heels over the vague pounding of the music. Another head pops round.

"Hi!" he finds himself greeting to the two people, rolling up the sleeves of his long-sleeved t-shirt as if he's about to shake hands with the women he presumes are some of Sarah's friends, which is a ridiculous idea, but for some reason he's doing it anyway.

"Hey," the brunette says, staying by the corner of the door and looking at him, unimpressed, raising an arched brow that looks as perfectly supermodel-esque as the rest of her. He thinks he recognizes her from the group Sarah had swayed back to after the bar earlier. "And you are?"

"Yeah, you are?" the... redhead, Chuck notes, repeats like it adds any meaning.

"Chuck." Sarah answers for him, and he'd smile at her introducing him and maybe step forward to continue it himself if it weren't for the masked iciness in her tone. Sure, she still sounds pretty normal, but he heard how she pressed out his name, he picked up on the tension in her voice, and when he turns to look at her he sees her frame is just as tense too.
Spy training makes you notice these tells, and times like these, he's not sure if that's a good thing or a bad thing.

"Zondra." says the brunette, jerking her head in her other friend's direction before introducing, "Carina."

"Nice to meet you guys!" he says, only mildly terrified by these women, now eyeing him sceptically like he's both to be devoured and destroyed. These may be Sarah's friends, and he knows they're just looking out for her which is really nice, but he doesn't really think the two are anything like the woman he's been talking to tonight. Where Sarah is lightness and easy conversation, these two are... well, intimidating.

"Weren't you just leaving?" Sarah asks the two women, and he's about to protest that that's not necessary, he's the one intruding here, when Zondra interrupts him, again.

"Actually, we were. Carina struck out, we're gonna hit up someplace else. I guess we'll... see you tomorrow?"
The woman's tone seems to imply something Chuck hasn't even really thought of tonight with Sarah, because frankly just hanging out here and laughing is quite enough to make him feel satisfied tonight wasn't a complete bust. Anything else, anything- God, he can't even think about what else, but it would just be an added impossible bonus, of sorts, that will never happen, because this sort of meet-cute thing could maybe happen to Charles Carmichael, but not Chuck Bartowski, never Chuck. And tonight, he's just being Chuck.

Sarah visibly relaxes despite the implied acts of her friend, and while he flushes and looks anywhere but at the women, she looks calm and collected once more.
"Yeah, see you then."

Zondra and Carina say their goodbyes before turning on their heels, and their hair even flies round their shoulders like there's a wind machine, Chuck notices, hearing them speak as they leave.

"I can't believe you struck out with that tiny guy with the beard-"

"Shut up, Zondra!"

Sarah turns to look at him at the same time he turns to her, and the moment he meets her eyes, he loses it. The laughter bubbles out loudly, as does Sarah's, and he finds himself leaning towards her, trying to anchor himself to her so as not to fall over from laughter, but it's tricky. She's just as bad, leaning back against the balcony rail and chuckling right against him, her eyes shut tight at the hilarity of just the sheer idea of Morgan and Carina, and then, Chuck thinks, at the hilarity of just laughing for the sake of laughing. He's laughing so much he's struggling to breathe, it's that ridiculous.

By the time they settle down, there are tears of laughter brimming in his eyes and he's almost pressed up right against Sarah. Her hand is resting on his chest and he can't remember when she put it there, but he's damned if it doesn't feel good to feel the warmth spreading through her palm.
There's a bit of hair falling over her face when she looks up at him, and he's reaching to brush it away before he can think.

His knuckles brush her cheek. Her skin feels a little grainy from the glitter, but mostly cool and soft and the touch sends sparks down his arm, and if the way her eyes flutter shut at the movement is any indication, she feels something similar too. She opens them again slowly as he tucks the strands of hair behind her ear then lets his hand drop down to her shoulder, and it's far less intimate but somehow, even more so, even more heated.

He pulls back as silence falls, clears his throat.
"Sorry,"

She raises an eyebrow, smiles a little.
"It's okay." she says, voice light, breezy.

Nodding, he thinks back to what he'd been thinking before they'd been interrupted.
"So—"

"D'you wanna get another drink?" she murmurs, saying his exact thought, her voice low and soft and husky like it caught a little in her throat, and he's pretty sure he knows how she feels. He nods, but makes no move for the door back into the club. "I don't- My hotel has a really great bar, it's open all night, and it's a lot less loud and crazy than this place, if you… wanted to get out of here."

Her eyes look dark all of a sudden, and despite himself, at the idea of going to her hotel, even for just a drink, even for some space to talk easier, Chuck feels something spark in his chest and sink low in his stomach, warm and oh, very tempting. The happy fun of Sarah's presence has been set aside for the all the more inviting intimate heat he can feel pass between them.

Licking his lips, he eyes her.
"Y'sure?" It may only be her hotel bar, but he knows, that's a lot. Maybe it's his training, but someone giving up their location like that seems kinda a big deal. She just nods, though, grins, and he smiles at her without any effort, it just feels natural. "Okay."

The hotel bar is nice, he thinks. Swanky and modern and shiny, and he's got a good view of the fancy marble lobby from the high stools they're sat at, away from the bar itself. But honestly, he's not paying much attention.

Because Sarah is ridiculously pretty, and she's sitting very very near to him, twisted on her seat to look at him face-on. Their close proximity means she keeps resting her hand on his when she sets hers down after running it through her hair, or toying with the seam along his shirt sleeve almost absentmindedly, or tapping his wrist when she makes a point, and with every touch Chuck is sure he can feel himself fall a little deeper, a little harder.

Oh, and he's in Sarah's hotel right now and they've both had a few drinks though he's never felt more sober and aware in his life, and though he knows this is just a casual drink, her soft warm touch means that increasingly, when she curls her lips round the thin straw in her vodka tonic, he can't help but stare and wonder what those lips might feel like against his.

He takes a large gulp of his scotch and the burning of his throat is a perfect distraction.

"So, when do you fly back east?"

A perfect distraction until she speaks again, that is, and he's captivated by her once more.

He dances his fingers along her palm as he replies, just like she's done a couple of times tonight. This closeness, this contact, it should feel strange with someone he's only just met, and yet, it doesn't, and Chuck can't work out why. He does know he likes her hand, though, long nimble fingers and soft smooth skin, and that the temptation to wrap his palm round hers got suddenly very strong the moment they left the club and honestly, it hasn't ebbed away since then.
"Late tomorrow night. Or," He looks to his watch, 00:53, "late today, I guess."

She smiles, but it's a bit tight, a bit tense, and he wonders if she's thinking what he's thinking. That this night has been impossible and brilliant with her, and if he had time, oh, if he had time, he's sure he'd spend every moment he could figuring Sarah out, trying to make her laugh that way she does, just being, because tonight has been so effortless just by her side.
As it is, he should probably head back to Ellie's, start to pack, find out where Morgan is since last time he saw him, as they exited the club, his friend was still shirtless and also claiming the light fixture on the ceiling was a piñata.
Chuck just doesn't have time.

He clears his throat and gathers his will to leave, a tricky task.
"Hey, I should probably-"

"Chuck?" Sarah interrupts, another in a night of interruptions, and he looks to her in question, but right now she's just biting her lip and staring determinedly at his hand where her fingers are just resting against his. Something in her tone makes him glad she stopped him talking, because whatever she's got to say is apparently far more interesting.

"Yeah?"

"Come up to my room?" His pulse skyrockets and his skin flushes and he should be awkward now, should stumble over his words and make some apology, but Sarah's blushing pink and her eyes are locked on his all of a sudden, now dark and intense and heated and he can't find the strength within him to think about anything but her, anything at all. He knows he could very well be jumping to a conclusion here, but as she just stares him down the meaning in her words only becomes abundantly clear to him. She leans in, curls her fingers around his wrist, looks at his lips. He clears his throat, forces himself to stay back. "You leave tomorrow. What is there to lose?"

As he takes a deep breath, she moves closer, and he can't help but reach out across the distance to slide his hand round her hip on the little stool so close to his, anchor himself to her. He sees how her gaze flits between his lips and his eyes and back again, and when he leans in, she meets him halfway, mouth against his own.

He feels her inhale sharply the moment their lips touch, and there's a quiet couple of beats where they just sit there, holding their breaths. And then her mouth moves just the tiniest bit against his and he is lost, entirely.
He pulls her closer, hears her moan quietly against him, feels her open her mouth and run her tongue along his lips until he lets her in willingly. She tastes like spice and the muted tang of vodka, and her hands slipping round his neck are hot and searing in their touch. Her fingers clutch at his hair, tug his head down to hers, and he just lets her explore while he keeps his hand slipped round her waist, rubbing up and down against the small of her back and moving to gently squeeze her hip. She shudders a little against him, apparently at the touch, and he only repeats it.

When she pulls back, she presses her face into his shoulder, brushes her lips against his neck as she breathes open-mouthed and gasping. He waits for a couple of seconds, seeing if reality will come crashing down, if all those things he should probably do will overpower his urge to stay right where he is, with Sarah, but nothing happens, no change of heart. Honestly, the way his pulse is racing right now, he knows there was never a chance of that. He can't help but feel like right now, he's exactly where he's meant to be.
He nudges Sarah lightly to get her to pull back and look at him, hoping it calms him down and relaxes him when her mouth isn't on his skin, but with just one look at her flushed ruffled appearance, his calm shatters. He slips down off the chair, brushing up against her half-intentionally and grabbing for her hand to help her down. God, he wants to kiss her again so desperately, but he waits, holds out, watches her scoop up her things and rifle around in her purse before pulling out what he guesses is her room key.

"Lead the way." he murmurs, somehow controlled when he feels anything but. She smiles, eyes dark, and his head spins again as that feeling in his stomach rises even more.

She takes his hand again and tugs him along to the elevators, and he lets his eyes roam over her as she strides far ahead, shoes loud against the marble floor of the lobby. The car takes forever to arrive and they stand in front of both doors to hop into whichever one turns up first, hands still locked together but each clearly as impatient as the other. He can almost feel himself trembling with anticipation, the air is that intense right now, that weighted. Sarah's hand is hot in his.

When one of the doors eventually slides slowly open with a muted ding, the elevator is mercifully empty, and he stumbles inside, dragging Sarah along with him. They barrel into one of the walls, pressed together, and the metal rail jars his elbow as he lands, but he doesn't care because suddenly Sarah's leaning all up against him, a little gasping and breathless, all curves and heat and limbs. She has the good thought to press a button and let the doors slip shut as they begin a torturously slow ascent, helpful since, with the heat of their kiss still in his mind, Chuck is more preoccupied with sweeping her hair to the side and tentatively brushing his lips over her neck, because he knows if his mouth finds hers again right now he's not sure they'll ever make it to her room.

"I've..." she breathes, voice reverberating through her throat and onto his lips where he's currently tasting her. She keeps trying to speak but her voice is husky and her hand is in his hair, pressing him down against her skin as he gets bolder, so she evidently doesn't intend on him responding. "I don't normally do this, with strangers." she gets out, eventually, the last word trailing off into a groan that should spur him on more, but instead he pulls away, shifting to get to her eye-level.

"We're not strangers!" he says, instantly, but she somehow sends him a flat look despite the flustered impatience on her face. "Okay, yeah, we're kinda strangers. Would you… rather not do this?"
He gets it, and frankly, he thinks he used to feel like that, like nights spent with a stranger aren't worth it, there can be so little connection. He may have changed his mind, tonight, in fact, but if Sarah feels differently then he won't go on.

"No, no I want this," she presses, turning around, eyes dark, still flushed. "But we're still strangers- maybe not in the conventional sense of the word..." Her tone is teasing, the glint in her eyes even more so, but for once he doesn't bite.

He strokes her shoulder, thinks on her words, because they're true for him too, though not in the way she's meaning. Sure, they only met a couple hours ago, but strangers don't know about Captain Awesome, and he doesn't know how strangers' eyes crinkle when they laugh or how their blushes rise up their face a certain way. He knows Sarah, somehow, impossibly, he just... does. He hums, tilts his head.
"What's your last name?"

She pauses, visibly. She probably thinks he doesn't notice, or that he passes it off as something else, but he can see the blip of uncertainty in her eyes, he can hear the hitch of her breath in the closed space of the elevator which is somehow still climbing. And then it fades, and she breathes out.
"Walker."

"Hi Sarah Walker, I'm Chuck Bartowski. There," He grins, shakes his head. "Not strangers."

Chuckling, she smiles back at him.
"Chuck Bartowski?" He's about to make another dumb shoe remark about his name, so ridiculous in comparison to hers, but she continues. "Okay, Chuck Bartowski. Shut up and kiss me."

He wants to agree, obey, pull her closer, but the doors open just as his eyebrows shoot up into his hairline somewhere, and he's sure the pairing would be comical if he weren't so very turned on right now. Sarah merely takes his hand again, something she seems to like doing, and tugs him out the elevator into the carpeted hallway, leading him down to her room. She walks backward, facing him the whole time and stepping slowly, her eyes still hooded and burning, and he's aching for her by the time she finally stops at a door marked 327. The moment she turns away and her gaze breaks from his, her hand slipping away, he finds just can't take the distance anymore.

He reaches his hands round to the front of her hips, and when she doesn't move him away, slowly wraps them round her stomach, pulls him into her, his mouth headed right back to her neck again because honestly her skin tastes amazing, somehow, and he's so so addicted already. He can feel her go slack, tilt her head away from him and open up the space even more, relaxing her back against his chest and letting her arms fall to her sides, keycard useless between her fingers, and a thrill runs through him as the reality of the situation kicks in.

"Chuck..." He hears her breathe, half a moan that sends his blood rushing south, spurred on by her pressing back against him. He somehow pulls away, just a little, breathes in and out and in and out, heavily, but keeps her held flush against him.

"I think we should move this inside before some other guests get a show."

Though she agrees, it's with a huffed breath, and when her warmth leaves his front so she can lean forward and open the door, he shares her frustration. Letting Sarah Walker go when she's in his arms is apparently the most difficult thing in the world.

The moment he's in her room and the door's clicked shut, she tackles him. His back slams against the door and her mouth lands on his, insistent, hot, intent. He gasps as her lips move, frantic, almost overwhelmed by how determined she is, and he just leans back. He feels her every curve, strokes the soft fabric of her dress and the heat beneath her skin, the smoothness of her bare legs, the muscles that flex under his touch. Her hands are no strangers either, he feels them tug up his shirt, travel across his exposed stomach, slip round his back. Her touch is searing and scalding just like her mouth and oh he wants this, wants this burning heat to stay with him forever.

She pulls back briefly, looking even more flustered than before, skin red and blushing, hair hazy, glitter still spread all round her face now and likely, all over his too.
"Hold on." she mutters before bending down and fiddling with the clasps on her ridiculously high shoes. He doesn't know how she's managed to walk in them, let alone balance well enough on them now to undo the buckles, but if he's learnt anything in the few hours he's known her it's that Sarah is pretty damn incredible.

He slips his own shoes off whilst she's busy, anything to occupy himself and stop from lunging right at her, but he's struggling by the time she kicks both heels away and raises a hand, pauses a moment, apparently thinking.

"You okay?"

She nods, flashes him a smile.
"Just a second."

With an almost embarrassing but thankfully quiet groan, he leans back against the door from where he'd instinctively reached out to her again, and watches as she heads to a suitcase leaning against a fancy wardrobe. She rifles round in the front pocket before tugging out a handful of condoms, and she turns to him, as if waiting for him to object, say something. He just eyes her, staying against the door though he wants to rush toward her and kiss her all over again, and she nods, tosses the condoms onto the bedside table as she saunters back over to him. He wants to make a quip about the quantity to see if it would make her chuckle, but really, he's only got the one old condom stuffed into his every day wallet so long a little ring has started to appear through the leather fold, and he certainly hadn't expected to get laid tonight so he hadn't brought anymore. That Sarah is prepared, he's pretty grateful for, and also increasingly turned on by because, yeah, this really is happening right now, and multiple condoms imply just what she's perhaps wanting here, and he would be all too happy to oblige, and wow, Chuck is pretty sure this might be the best night of his life.

She sends him a smile as she walks back to him, a couple inches shorter now, and though the grin is just happy and open, he can see in her eyes that she's about to tackle him again, take the lead, but he's aching to touch her once more and oh, he wants to do some exploring of his own now.

He grasps at her hips and swings her round, mouth meeting hers mid-movement, then presses her up against the door she'd had him leaning on minutes ago. Her legs lock around his waist and he guesses he must've had her in the air to have her lips at the same level as his with their height difference now more pronounced, and the feel of her holding onto him somehow turns him on even more. He kisses her slower than she'd kissed him, wanting to taste every groove and curve and slope of her mouth, wanting to suck on her lips lazily, wanting to brush his tongue against hers. After minutes, hours, hell, he doesn't know, she moans- no, whimpers- into his mouth, and he can't help but feel lightheaded at the sound as he hears and feels it. He sets her down but doesn't break his lips from hers, just bends down a little more and feels her smile into the kiss. He drags his hands down her sides, slowly, smoothly, and by the time he reaches her hips he feels her pressed up flush against him, evidently impatient. Hitching up her dress, he smirks when he feels her gasp against him as his hands circle her ass with a gentle squeeze. Suddenly, her own hands are at the bottom of his shirt again, this time tugging up and up and bunching it around his middle where it stops only due to his arms and even then certainly not for Sarah's lack of trying. He's loathe to move from her but he does, only briefly, to step back and pull the shirt off and throw it away.

"Where was... I..."
He swallows.

Sarah's staring at his now-bare chest with a hunger he hadn't thought possible, her eyes tearing their way over him rapidly. Her lipstick is smudged, her dress crooked, one side still hooked up over her hip where he'd left it and giving him a clear view of her dark lace underwear. She is positively the most beautiful thing he's ever seen.

When she slides her hands over his chest and pulls him back in for a kiss, she's less desperate too this time, and more languid, savouring. He grins against her even as his hands travel south once more, with purpose this time, tugging up the skirt of her dress and bunching it around her hips before his hands slip under her underwear. She gasps into his mouth at his touch, and he tries to suppress a groan at the sensations but doesn't really succeed.
If what he's feeling is any guess, she's just as turned on right now as he is, and he feels her bite his lip and go soft in his arms as he begins to work against her. He pulls back from her mouth only to taste her skin once more, to trail kisses down her neck, on her collarbone, and then kneels to join his hand, kissing her thighs and her hips. He looks up before he goes any further, sends her a questioning look, but she just stares down at him, chest heaving with ragged breaths, hair messy, and nods, and as he kisses her skin again she moans. It's the hottest thing he's ever heard, he's sure. He feels the heat that emanates from her after a while, sees the sheen appearing on her brow when he casts a look upwards and finds her head pressed back against the door and her eyes shut tight. Her fingers tug in his hair, twist themselves round the curls he'd fought with his trainers to keep atop his head, and she falls apart minutes later, a leg propped up on his shoulder, and moaning, gasping, for breath.

"Chuck-"

He looks back up at her, startled and turned on at the low way she says his name, all flustered and breathless and sounding so lost in heady bliss, and the look in her gaze makes his toes curl and his pants feel tighter at the same time. He tugs her underwear back up round her hips as best he can when she's looking at him with eyes so dark.

"Come here."

Even as she says it she still seems a little out of it, a little stunned, and he sees her legs quivering a little as she pulls lightly on his hair and drags him up to her. She kisses him slowly, so so slowly, pulling back only to press kisses to his jaw his neck his shoulder his chest, somehow sweetly despite the arousal still hanging heavy in the air, though he can't figure out why. She steps into him, one hand pressed against his sternum whilst her other arm wraps round his shoulder and her lips brush his again. He wonders idly if she can feel just how quickly his heart is racing in this easy brief reprieve they've slipped into.
When her hands drift lower and reach for his belt, though, the simple sweetness shatters, and need fills him instantly. He lets her undo it, lets her open the buttons on his jeans, too, lets her push them down, and when he's standing there in just his boxers, he lets her stare for a moment as well. But he's there in just his underwear while Sarah's in a full if bunched-up dress, underwear still on if askew, and he feels just a little like that's not particularly fair.

She reaches for the hem of her dress just as he does, and they end up pushing it up and over her head together. As they toss the dress away, his eyes flit down to her chest reflexively, seeing a patterned bra that makes a matching set, and he pulls her in for another kiss as he reaches to undo it. A quick check at the back informs him it's a front clasp, and with a little wrangling he's slipped it open and pushed the item down her shoulders to land on the floor with a dull thud.

He feels her turn them round, step him back to where the bed must be, but honestly he hasn't been looking at anything in the room except for her even as she'd walked around. So he just lets her pull him away, teasing her mouth with his own, and when she pulls back and he opens his eyes, she's standing between him and the bed expectantly, naked from the waist up and frankly almost naked below, her remaining underwear still slung uselessly low on her hips. She doesn't shrink away under his gaze, only flushes a bit and stares right back at him with widening hungry eyes. He's not sure what look he's sending her but it must convey just how much he wants this, wants her, right now because oh, it's a hell of a lot.

"God. You're so beautiful, Sarah." he murmurs, before he's even aware of it.

She blinks, and he kisses her quickly and lifts her by the hips and sets her far back on the bed, her head near the pillows, then crawls up on top of her. She looks up at him, blinking, her hair fanned out around her head and a small flushed smile on her lips.

"Hi," she says quietly, with a grin, so cute all of a sudden his heart skips a beat because wow, that cute smile aimed at him while she lies almost naked right below him is almost too much to take.

"Hi." he replies, before leaning in and nudging his nose against hers. She tilts her head up for an open-mouthed kiss but he feels her hands on his hips at the same moment, playing with the elastic of his boxers before slipping them down. He kicks them off and reaches for her underwear, the only remaining piece of cloth separating them, only to find she's got them in her hands already and is tossing them aside. There's a spark in her eyes when she next looks at him, a determined glint, and she rolls him onto his back with no further messing around, reaching for a condom and dealing with it before he can even try to. He can't blame her focus, he rather needs it too right now.

She kisses him as her hips sink down and suddenly she's surrounding him in warmth and he curses into her mouth because the sensation should not feel that good, it can't feel that good. When he rolls his hips, she pulls back and rests her forehead against his, eyes sliding shut as she gasps and starts to move along with him.
It's slow, heavy, he can hear every gasp and moan and keening whimper that falls from Sarah's mouth so deliciously. He can hear the soft slipping sounds of his skin against hers, the crinkling of the crisp sheets, the dull thuds of the bed against the wall every now and then. At some point, he rolls them over and takes the lead and when he opens his eyes for just a second he sees Sarah lying writhing against the bed, breathtaking, skin dewy, glitter still in her hair, and her eyes shut tight until she evidently feels him pause in awe above her and she peels one open, gulps a breath.

"Something wrong?"

Literally absolutely nothing whatsoever. Nothing has ever been less wrong, at this moment, Chuck thinks.
He leans down, brushes his lips against hers.

"Nope,"

She smirks beneath him.
"Then please don't stop now,"

He has to suppress a laugh at the force in her tone, the strained edge he feels too because this is perfect, building and destroying at the same time and he loves it.

He keeps going, moves getting more frantic as her gasps and moans get more frequent, louder, more demanding and rushed, and he feels her pull him down, closer, her head next to his. His mouth quickly finds a home right next to her ear, and something about that makes her lock her legs round his waist and pull him in further and god, she feels amazing, sounds amazing, her moans building and building up, and all he can think of is her.

"Sarah-" is all he manages to press out through his teeth, before pressing his lips against her jaw, overwhelmed by her, drowning in her, and she quakes and trembles in his arms with a sudden loud groan. He follows her, drowned. Spent.

The faint ringing of his phone wakes him around 9am, and he jolts awake with a shock, sitting upright. There's no need to work out where he is, try and recall the events of last night, because he already knows, already remembers right away. Like he'd ever forget Sarah Walker.

She's asleep next to him still, curled up face-down, the bare smooth expanse of her back exposed where the sheet is nestled by her hips. He didn't think it was possible but she looks even more beautiful in the light of day, easy peace on her features, hair shining in the morning light.

The phone is still ringing annoyingly, though, and he casts his eyes around the room to find wherever his jeans landed. They're in a corner, a crumpled rumpled mess, one of Sarah's shoes tossed on top of them though he has no clue how, since he's sure the shoes came off before the jeans. He sees his phone is peeking out of the pocket, though, and he's just located his boxers and slipped off the bed to slide them on when Ellie's name fades from the screen and the call drops.

He sees two more previous missed calls when he finally grabs his cell, and they're all from his sister. He winces.

"Hey El," he says, softly, once he's dialed her himself and she's picked up, midway through the first ring.

"God, are you okay, Chuck? I woke up this morning and found Morgan passed out drunk in your room, and he says he has no idea where you went last night."

He looks over to Sarah but she still seems out of it, sleeping blissfully beautifully. He keeps speaking quietly anyway, just in case.
"Yeah, that would be because he got so drunk last night he thought his shirt needed a new home on the dancefloor. I'm fine, El, I left Morgan with his buddies when I... bumped into a friend."

He can practically see Ellie frown across the phone.
"You have friends in Burbank other than Morgan, who also happened to be in the same club as you last night?"

"I have you," he says, deflecting and answering only the first part of her question though he's not sure why. God-sister-zilla Ellie may used to have been, but ever since he moved east she's had very little involvement in his love life and honestly, Chuck would rather it stay that way. A single life in D.C. as an analyst has been miles better than the awkward life he'd had in LA being set up with Ellie's doctor friends even in just the few months he'd gone home after college before officially starting at the CIA. She'd thought he'd needed to move on after his breakup with Jill, but since that was a mutual we-have-different-career-plans decision (aka, she dumped him but he'd at least had the promise of the CIA to get him through it), he'd been pretty happy to just keep getting by. Ellie, not so much. She'd subtly had friends over, been 'busy' at the hospital and left a colleague to greet him, handed him numbers of girls from the gym, hell, even Awesome had recommended a couple people. If there's one thing Chuck can remember clearly from his pre-CIA life, it's that Ellie can try her damnedest to get what she wants, and she doesn't like failing at that. He loves her for it, but when his love life is at stake, he likes to keep the distance sometimes.

"Sisters don't count, who's the friend, Chuck?"

He rubs his forehead, still a little too tired for such a conversation this early in the morning when he and Sarah had had anything but an early night the night before, plus there was the extra round when they'd both stirred at 4am, which left him shattered in more than just a sleepy way. He gives in to Ellie, just a little, knowing she'll put the pieces together.
"She's called Sarah."

"She's- Oh. Oh, god, okay, uh, I understand. Is she-? Y'know, never mind." He tries not to laugh at Ellie's floundering, and she clears her throat. "Just don't let this Sarah make you forget your flight back is tonight, then."

"I know, sis. I'll be back soon and we can have lunch before I go, okay?"

"Okay little brother, I love you."

"Love you too, El."
He ends the call with another sigh. He wants to go back to D.C., wants to finish his damn training and get out in the field already, he does, but where being an analyst for the CIA equated to 'working a government desk job' to Ellie, being a spy means the real lies have to start, lying about where he is, what he's done, and he's not sure how he feels about that. He wants this promotion, wants to do good and save lives and help people, and he's still pleased his analyst work garnered any attention at all let alone grounds for promotion, but it's still tough. Still dangerous. Still comes with a gun, which he'll never be comfortable with. And still involves lying to his friends and his sister, the woman who raised him when his parents abandoned ship.

"Was that your sister- Ellie?"

He almost jumps out of his skin. Almost. It's yet another testament to how much his spy training has affected him because really, Sarah pretty much scares the life out of him at that very moment. But, he keeps his dignity somewhat intact by only screaming a tiny bit, even though that's enough to make Sarah laugh, apparently, which she does, leaning forward on the bed with a giant grin and a chuckle and making his mind go blank because she's still completely naked.

"Jesus, Sarah, you scared the crap outta me." he says a moment later when coherent thoughts have returned to him.

"I guessed that." she says, still laughing, reaching up to wipe her eyes. He'd feel more embarrassed but she's far too lovely to feel awkward around for any great length of time.

"And yeah, it was her. Like I said, I'm the younger brother, she worries."

Sarah smiles again. It makes his stomach flip.
"That's nice. It must be nice to... to have someone, who looks out for you like that."

The thought of all the lies to come swarms him again and he wonders just how good his acting is when he merely shrugs.
"I don't get to see her as often as I should."

The acting evidently isn't that great, because Sarah just frowns and steps off the bed and makes her way across to him, slipping her arms round his waist. He wasn't sure what would happen this morning, how embarrassed or awkward they both might be, how they'd handle things the morning after in so many ways. But it feels so natural, so normal, like there's been no difference at all and it's both wonderful and sad at the same time because Chuck knows he'll have to leave here soon, leave her, fly back to an empty lonely apartment in D.C., and become Agent Charles Carmichael, a completely different person. And he'll never see Sarah again.

"Chuck..." She presses a light kiss to his chest and it warms him so incredibly, tingles spreading through his limbs as he holds her shoulders. "You don't know what I'd give to have someone like that out there for me."
She sends him a wry smile but there's such sadness in her eyes that he can only lean in and kiss her in some attempt to make her smile so wonderfully again. He doesn't know much about her family, last night she only implied she didn't have much of one and moved on and he'd happily left it at that, but he wonders if Sarah Walker's past is just as confusing and painful as his own is, maybe.

Sure enough though, when he pulls back she's smiling at him all warm again, and he grins back in return, feeling his nose crinkle again. He needs to get it under control, truly, but damn, Sarah's got an uncanny ability to just make him want to grin from ear to ear.

"When do you need to leave to head back to your sister's?"

He could do the math, try and actually work out how long it'll take him to get from here back to Echo Park, but he doesn't really remember quite where Sarah's hotel is, he'd been too distracted looking at her and talking in the back of the cab last night to pay much attention, and really, right now he just wants to spend a little more time with her.

And so, he shrugs.
"Couple hours."

Her grin smoothly turns wicked, and he likes it very much.
"We've got time."

Suddenly incredibly aware that she's completely naked and still holding him, he reaches down and grips her waist, bringing her up to his height again before kissing her. She laughs, hooks her legs round him, and he stumbles back to the bed. They've got time.

He sighs as he steps over the threshold, running a hand through his still-damp hair from the shower that of course took a different direction to the one he'd quite intended when Sarah had joined him. He smells like lavender or whatever else was in the free hotel shampoo Sarah had let him use, and it's weird and unfamiliar, but it had done the trick, his curls are clean and soon to dry in some crazy animal shaped way he's sure Ellie will laugh at when she sees him. He smirks at the thought of his hair.
He'd had it longer at Stanford, curls clinging to his head, and he'd hoped to keep them that way when he'd joined the agency. They'd grown for a while, in fact, right up on his head, and some of the other analysts had laughed at them sometimes, pointing out the weird shapes and styles his hair could make. His first training session to be a field operative, though, and he'd been demanded a haircut. After many, many battles, they'd settled for a more reserved approach on the sides, swept and groomed, and curls still free on the top. It takes him ages to tame them the right way every day, and he can't lie and say he doesn't miss the easier college days of just letting his appearance be whatever. Today, though, he'd been far too distracted by Sarah even after the shower to even focus on his hair.

She steps out too, leans on the doorjamb and sends him a small tight smile. She's only wearing a robe, slipped on after their shower where he'd had to pull on last night's clothes and settle for having to do a walk of shame to head back to Ellie and Awesome's apartment. Sarah had offered him a sweater she'd pulled from her suitcase, but he'd said cashmere wasn't really his thing and she'd laughed at the joke. He wishes she was laughing now.

"This was..." he starts, then stops, because how do you explain to the woman you've just spent the best night (and morning) of your life with, that you've just spend the best night (and morning) of your life with her, especially after only just meeting her? All Chuck knows is that he's glad he went to that crappy club with Morgan after all. "Just... I'm sorry, that I have to go, and that you don't even live here, it... It sucks. I kinda want to get to know you better, y'know?"

She folds her arms, the way she curls into them telling him it's not in disagreement or defence, but more to protect herself, seemingly. To keep it in.
"I know. I... I feel the same way,"

It would never work between them, of course, he's about to become a spy for god's sake, how could he ever settle down with someone as normal but incredible as Sarah? She's perfect, but she's not a spy, and if his training has taught him anything more than just to not freak out when beautiful women surprise you, it's that spy life and civilian life never mix well. That's why he has to lie to Ellie, that's why he can't be with Sarah.

He wants to say something else, wants to tell her that he really, really, likes her, that she's perfect and if the situation were ever changed he'd be with her in a heartbeat. Instead, he just shrugs, tilts his head as he looks at her.
"Thank you."

She doesn't seem to need to ask what for, and he's glad, because explaining quite what she's come to mean to him in such a short space of time besides being the most beautiful woman he's ever laid eyes on and the most incredible person he's ever met, plus an amazing kisser to boot, explaining that would just make things even sadder and weirder than they already are.

She nods, and he's about to turn around, to smile and leave and head back to Ellie's feeling sad and crappy, but before he can move Sarah steps toward him slowly and he's paralyzed by the intent in her gaze. She reaches up, cups his jaw and pulls him down to her, and she kisses him.

It's slow, soft, with none of the heat of last night or this morning or a half hour ago in the shower, just full of warmth. It feels affectionate, fond, and above all, familiar. He knows her already, knows the touch of her beneath his hands, knows her taste, knows how great her lips feel when they're slowly moving over his. He loves it, loves this, god does he want more of this more than anything. He just holds her tight and hopes she never lets go.
She does.

When she pulls away and he peels open his eyes, so slowly just to let the moment sink in, the look in her own eyes is startling. It's sadness and remorse and bitterness and affection and lust and contentment all in one, and he has no clue what it means.

She raises a shoulder in a half-shrug.
"Goodbye, Chuck."

Maybe the look meant that, goodbye, but he can't believe that, can't take it, not when that affection and familiarity was laced so heavily within it. So he sends her the biggest smile he can muster up.
"I'll see you later, Sarah."

He won't see her later, she knows that, and he definitely knows it, but he still has to have something, some hope that walking away isn't as crazy a thing to do as he feels it is right now.
He turns, and leaves, and has to stop himself from turning around to see if she watches him go, because he has absolutely no idea what he'd do if she does.

"You can take a seat, Agent Carmichael, I'll let Director Graham know you're here."

He smiles politely at the secretary who looks alarmingly similar to Devon, and takes a seat facing the door, sitting straight, upright. They're habits his instructors have drilled into him the past few months, always be aware, know your exits, be prepared to run, and though he knows sitting outside the Director's office is probably the safest place to be in the whole of the CIA headquarters, so heavily guarded as it is, Chuck keeps up the guise. Because frankly, he's anxious as hell, and it's all he has right now.
He's here to meet his partner. He's here to get his first real assignment. He's here to be a spy.

As he waits, he lets his mind drift to that somehow comforting night and morning two months ago that have never really left his thoughts since they happened. He might look well-trained on the outside, but really, Sarah Walker is the most distracting thing he knows when he thinks about her, and he thinks about her a lot. Hell, if he hadn't been thinking about her for reassurance during his Red Test maybe he'd have actually shot his mark rather than misfired and hit the guy's knee. He hit his head on a rock when he fell to the ground and died instantly. The agency called it a success, Chuck called it very dumb luck he was incredibly grateful for because the idea of killing someone will always turn his stomach. Even just shooting someone in the knee felt off to him, awful. But either way, two weeks later here he is, waiting for a meeting with the Director himself and his new partner.

He never knew if he'd like a partner, really, even though he knew going into this that his training wouldn't cover everything an agent plucked from youth and drilled through The Farm would know, everything he'd have gotten had he been properly recruited right out of Stanford instead of what really happened to him. He'll be the tech side to a duo, the other half being some mysterious agent sat not so far away on just the other side of the door here, with the ability to kick some serious ass. They're gonna be well-trained, experienced, accomplished, hence why the higher-ups handed Chuck his Red Test so early on in his field agent career; they needed him to be somewhere on the same level as his partner. But the whole partner thing still feels odd to him even now- the idea of relying on someone that much and having them rely on you contradicts so many ideas he's been taught in this game. Spies don't have feelings, spies don't make connections, spies look out for themselves. Unless, apparently, they have a partner, and that all goes out the window. He knows he's not that hardened a spy, not yet, anyway, and he doubts he'll have trouble trusting someone to have his back. What he's more concerned about, is if his new partner will have trouble trusting him. They'll be the hardened one, the experienced one, and in the few encounters with seasoned spies that Chuck's had so far, he's realized one thing, they don't warm up to people easily.

Another few minutes pass and he finds himself thinking of Sarah again as he futzes with his phone, spinning it round and round, moving his fingers from corner to corner and turning it around absentmindedly. He wonders what she's doing right now.
Is she back in LA, about to go hit up some clubs tonight with those supermodel friends of hers, or is she back wherever she lives, she never said, he realized a week later. Or, is she traveling for the job she skipped on the details about and only mentioned took her from place to place. He doesn't really know much about Sarah Walker at all, and yet, he still feels he knows her better than he knows anything else. Anyone else.

When he's safe and alone and locked in his apartment, he allows himself to think about that last kiss, that goodbye, or that hope, depending on which way he looks at it. It's the one thing he just can't think about in the field because it just breaks down every single one of his defences. He thinks now he's pretty sure Sarah didn't mean it as goodbye, not with such a look on her face, not with the softness and tenderness with which she'd kissed him, oh so aching, but it definitely meant something. It almost meant everything.
Shaking his head, he presses the thoughts from his mind. He doesn't know how it's possible to have feelings for someone you only met once, how it's possible to miss someone you spent all of 12 hours with, and yet here he is, waiting for the most important CIA meeting of his life, maybe the most important meeting of his life, period, and he's thinking about Sarah.

Two months of these distractions, and he's no longer surprised.

"Agent Carmichael?" the receptionist asks, looking over at him. Chuck snaps out of his thoughts. "You can wait outside the door, the Director will let you in shortly."

"Thanks." he mutters, not as friendly as he'd like because spies aren't really meant to be friendly. He wipes his palms surreptitiously as he stands, because they're clammy from nerves and distracted thoughts right now and he knows he's about to shake the hand of the person who's probably gonna save his life a good dozen times. First impressions can mean the world in this game.

He can hear a voice as he makes his way to the door, increasing in volume the closer he gets. It's Graham; he recognizes the low booming tone from the couple times he's met the man, the last being when he passed Chuck and one of his trainers in the hall a couple months ago. From what Chuck's gathered, the Director isn't a very sociable type, so his being called here for a meeting with the man just to meet his partner tells Chuck this is a big deal.

"...I know you're still reluctant after what happened with the CAT Squad, but Agent Rizzo's apparent betrayal was years ago, you need to work with someone else again-" The Director cuts off, interrupted, but when he starts again he doesn't sound particularly mad like Chuck would expect at such insubordination, just sighs and continues. "Those were single missions, like you asked, and yes they were very successful, but you know how unconventional they were, and we both know how close a couple of them came. I've granted you years going from partner to partner, you need a permanent one, someone you can come to trust."

There's a pause. Chuck thinks the other agent must be speaking again, but just like before, they're quieter than Graham, less needing of authority than the head of the agency is, and Chuck can't hear their words.

"I know. But he's a good agent, and very promising. Green, yes, and you'll need to watch his back far more than he'll need to watch yours," Chuck would be affronted at that but he knows it's the truth. "But he's got the skills you've been lacking- he's got technical knowledge you'd struggle to find elsewhere, I promise you. I think you'll work well together."

Another pause appears, and apparently Chuck's new partner is arguing a little more, but he can't really blame them. They don't know his Red Test was a complete fluke and he knows passing it at all is probably the only thing he's got going for him on his resume, without that he's a tech nerd who worked behind a desk all his life until six months ago.

Graham's tone gets a little quieter but it's still audible, just about.
"Just try him out. Go on a couple of missions, if he's not the right fit, I can find someone else. Nobody as good, but there are some other options. At the end of the day, I'll just keep trying. You're too valuable an agent to lose just because you didn't know your partner well enough."

Chuck hears a grunt and what he thinks might be a "Fine.", so that's promising.
He takes a few steps back, shuffling away as he hears Graham's own steps getting nearer, and plasters on a polite but very nervous smile in preparation. The door clicks open and Graham smiles and nods at him, blocking the office behind from Chuck's view.

"Agent Carmichael," he says, "I'd like you to meet Agent Walker."
Blinking, Chuck just about manages to keep his face calm and controlled because all he thinks of when someone says that name is Sarah. He moves past the Director, looks into the office.

Sarah.
It's Sarah, Sarah, who's standing right in front of him, Sarah. In a neat black suit, hands held in front of her, frame tight and eyes burning with a thousand questions but, god, he's got a few himself right now. He only just keeps his knees from giving way, only just keeps his breath steady and even, because of everything he needed today, seeing Sarah was both the thing he needed most and least.

And then it dawns on him. Oh crap, she's going to be-

"Your new partner."

a/n 2: Gasp. Okay, y'all probably saw that coming, but the journey's half the fun! And now I can say the real initial premise for this fic and why I wanted to write it: I wanted to know, how would Chuck and Sarah navigate being partners after sleeping together? Having explored that in the next chapters, I find it's a pretty fun trip.
Feel free to leave a review and let me know what you thought, I really do appreciate each and every one.

-Kiera :)