The “Charah” Snowglobe

[A/N:  This drabble was written a long time ago, during the season two run.  At that time, a scene like this in the show would have been (cough) game-changing, but in the aftermath of ‘Other Guy’ and ‘Honeymooners’, where it’s clear that Chuck and Sarah have been making like rabbits, it’s a lot less zingy.

Still, like Fedak and his Paris (or should that be Barstow?) hotel room, I wanted Chuck and Sarah to have this kind of passionate but sweet moment in the middle of the chaos, so I wrote one.  Unlike most things I write, this one is like an Escher staircase.  It starts in the present, loops through the past and then ends up back where it started.  So, if you want it to be longer, just start over again when you get to the end.  😉

I hope you enjoy it.]

I think this can safely be rated ‘T’.

Sarah turned her head slightly, acknowledging Chuck’s presence behind her.  Together, they stared out the window of their room at the snow-covered tapestry of trees and hills that made up the resort grounds.  Below them, a few hardy couples were trudging slowly along the paths between the buildings, bundled up like Eskimos with their scarves fluttering gently in the wind.

She shivered slightly – from the cold coming off the window or empathy for the people outside Chuck wasn’t sure – and he moved closer, tucking his chin over her shoulder and wrapping both arms around her. With great care he took each of her wrists and guided her arms across her chest as he pulled her to him.  She leaned back with a soft sigh and closed her eyes, seeming to savor his warmth.  Taking her cue, he sought out the chilled areas of her skin and covered them as best he could.

“You know, I think it’s time for this spy to come in from the cold,”  Chuck said with a wry smile.  Her mood lifted instantly and Sarah smiled back at him, placing a kiss like a soft whisper on his cheek.  Delivering what she couldn’t say with words in a language she was fluent in.

Chuck swayed her slowly back and forth in the embrace.  The movement maximized the feeling of contact between them, their bodies separated only by the thin cotton tees.  And in that contact, in the places where her warmth fused with his, he knew nothing but bliss.  He reveled and luxuriated in it.  Together at last.  No covers, no excuses.  No awkward retreats and apologies.  Most of all, no lectures about professionalism or appropriateness.

They’d crashed right through all of those barriers last night.  Saw them coming, expected the brakes at any moment.  But they came and went one by one.  And soon any thoughts of holding back were lost in a frantic whirlwind of discarded clothes and desperate urgency.  Of furious kisses landing on faces, necks and breasts and burning hands touching everything, caressing, grasping.  Of two people trying to unleash a year of repressed desire in a single, frenzied explosion of uninhibited passion.  The aftershocks went on long into the night.

In the morning, as consciousness returned, Chuck became aware of the lightening sky and the sense of quiet.  A quiet so unlike the rising crescendo of noise his life had become over the last few months, where mission after mission had blended together into a seamless cacophony and there’d been few if any opportunities to consider what he was doing or why.  Now, in the pre-dawn silence, it was almost like he was living in the median – the dividing line between his life that was and the one about to be.

He turned his head to share this revelation with Sarah and saw her standing at the window, her face lit angelically in the early light.  She stared out at nothing, it seemed, her expression pensive and her right thumb wearing a circular depression into the pendant he’d given her.  Chuck knew she was already thinking about the payment that would come due for their mutual indulgence.

She’d failed.  Or, at least, she thought so, Chuck guessed.  She’d be questioning herself, wondering how she’d let things get out of hand, cursing her own weakness.  And worrying about what Beckman would do when the truth came out.  He watched her eyes, those eyes that spoke so clearly for her when words failed her.  She looked so… alone.

As silently as he could, Chuck pulled the covers aside and got to his feet, padding slowly and carefully over to her.


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