As of 06.10.11, I don't own Chuck et al.
Caution – Nudity involved, but you probably got that from the summary.
"Chuck, I'm fine, really."
He looked over at her as he parked the nerd herder outside her hotel. "Yeah, so fine you couldn't even drive your Porsche. Sarah, it's OK, I want to help."
He gave her his serious look, and before she could say anything, he was out of the herder and at her side with the door open for her.
Her mouth frowned, but her eyes smiled at him as she said, "OK." As she moved, her shoulder twinged massively and she grimaced. After the world came back into focus, she saw him down on his haunches with concern written all over his face.
"Come on," he said as he gently took her good arm and positioned it over his shoulder, half around his neck. Together, with a little eyes-closed-hissing they managed to get her out of the Yaris, and were standing, still with her arm over his shoulder.
He waited for her to recover before he looked into her eyes, and said, "Now do you believe me when I say 'it's not safe in the car?'"
She laughed, which caused a grimace to cross her face. She was tempted to rest her forehead against him.
As a tall girl, that had rarely been an option before she'd met him. Having tried it once or twice now, she couldn't think of a better place to rest her head. Especially now. Everything seemed to hurt.
"Come on, let's get you ... home."
She couldn't help think that this wasn't home. Even DC wasn't home. Not anymore. Home was a place that had a Tron poster.
The mission was supposed to have been simple. Nothing was simple with Chuck around. Her vest had saved her life, as it was supposed to. The force of the shot had shoved her forward into the door frame of the tank Casey insisted on driving. As she and Casey had run from the container yard, she was shot in the back, and her shoulder wrenched painfully. She was a hurtin' puppy. There had also been some being thrown around in the backseat of the Suburban as Casey evaded their pursuers. Chuck had twitched, and tried to help with every whimper she made.
It was almost midnight when they got to her floor and she still was leaning on Chuck. He got her keys out of her bag and let them both into her room.
"Right, I'll ... I'll start a bath for you. You need to marinade for a bit. Loosen those muscles up."
Together, they sat her on the edge of the bed, and then he left her to head into the bathroom.
All she could do was sit there. She knew she had some pretty powerful painkillers in the bathroom, but she didn't want to take them. That would just mask the pain. Pain was there for a reason. It stopped you making stupid movements and making the injury worse.
The sound of the bath filling and the smell of warm aerated water made her smile. Chuck was trying to look after her. She was pretty sure Chuck would do anything to help her.
After a few minutes, the rush of water stopped, emphasised with the occasional 'ploink' of a drip falling into water.
Chuck emerged, somewhat hesitantly, back into the main room. "OK... the bath," he gestured redundantly "is ready."
Sarah kicked her shoes off and moved to get up, and realised there was a problem. Chuck saw her frustration, and was there in an instant to help her up.
"Chuck..." they said in their patented simultaneous manner. They both smiled at each other. Chuck got in first.
"Sarah... you... I nearly lost you tonight..."
She grimaced and tilted her head. "That's why we wear vests... Chuck?"
"Chuck, I've got a problem. I'm gonna... I'm gonna need your help..."
"Anything," he smiled and then looked at her seriously. "You know that."
She tried not to sigh, and then grimaced apologetically, "Chuck? I'll need your help to get out of this," she looked down at her clothes, and then kept her face down when she said, "and I think I'll need your help getting into the bath."
Universes were born and died in the time she kept her face down while he processed what she'd said.
After a moment, she looked up at him. His face was full of concern. He swallowed and nodded saying, "OK."
"Chuck, I'm so sorry..."
His smile twitched momentarily, "Sarah, I'd be lying if I said I hadn't ever thought about..." he cleared his throat. "When I was running your bath, I figured this might be a possibility. I promise you this is purely medicinal. Or as close to medicinal as I can get, OK?"
She looked into his eyes, "OK, I trust you."
The jacket was the first problem. He moved it as tenderly as he could, but she still hissed as she moved her shoulder. Fortunately it was the short tweedy one that matched her skirt. Long sleaves would have been painful.
There were no buttons on the short sleave blouse.
"Over the top," she said, leaning slightly, with her arms as far forward as she could. Chuck started with the shoulders of the blouse, before moving his grip to the hem.
"The sleaves," she corrected him.
He moved his hands to her armpits, and took the sleave hem in his fingers. He was painfully aware his thumbs had brushed the soft skin between her armpit and ... upper chest.
The blouse moved easily, the rayon-y material slid easily until the back of it found her pony tail. He eased it over her head, and she was free of the blouse.
She took a couple of breaths to recover, as Chuck gauged the tank top that was under the blouse. It was skin tight.
It wasn't a tank top he realised, but a ... camisole? Thin straps, lace at the neckline vee. That made it a camisole he thought.
"This time, from the hem, OK?" she told him.
He nodded, and took the hem in his hands. She looked at him as his fingers caressed her skin at her waist. He swallowed and began lifting the elasticized material. Things didn't go as smoothly as the blouse.
Mid chest, he encountered an obstruction. Two obstructions.
As she was leaning forward again to ease things, he couldn't see her face, but she said, "Umm, Chuck? Over the boobies first."
Right, over the boobies then. He moved his grip to the front, trying to keep some air between her skin and his fingers. As he moved the cami over her breasts, the lace of her bra stroked his fingers. She must have felt or heard his reaction as she stiffened slightly. Again, the ponytail caught the fabric, but after that, she was sans camisole.
That left her standing in a black lacy bra, and the tweedy skirt.
The skirt was pretty easy. He found the zip at her head nod for the direction. Her good hand to hold his shoulder as she stepped out of the pooled skirt on the floor. She smiled apologetically for him again.
The pantyhose were harder than the skirt, but easier than the camisole. Through the 'hose, he could see her panties. He found it pleasing that her briefs and bra didn't match. There was something real about that.
Sarah wasn't a fantasy, she was a real woman. And to be honest, Chuck had never fantasised about taking her clothes off. He might have fantasised about her naked, but...
He moved the pantyhose down her legs. They turned inside out as he moved down what felt like six feet of leg, so he needed to run his hands down each leg to bunch the 'hose at her ankles. She steadied her self on his head as she lifted each foot for him to free her of the nylon.
When he stood, she was wearing just the bra and panties. They both took a clearing breath, and smiled at each other when they realised they'd both done the same thing.
This was the moment. "Um... if you wanna," he gestured to the bathroom door.
Just outside the door, she stopped, and hunched forward. Chuck sucked in air through his teeth when he saw the red splotch of where the vest had saved the life of the woman he loved.
She said very quietly, "Chuck, the bra?"
"Sarah, your back..."
He was able to surprise Sarah Walker. He undid the bra one handed, a quick pinch of the straps, and let physics take care of the rest.
She was shocked when she realised her bra was currently hanging from her arms and almost turned to face him. And then realised all she was now wearing was the white cotton briefs. She faced the bathroom and said, "Charles Irving Bartowski! Just where did you learn to..."
She could hear the grin in his voice, "The one-handed bra snap? Sarah, I... I have a confession to make. I was a bratty little brother. I think Ellie hated me when I was fourteen."
Her laugh hurt, but felt good too. "Chuck? I'm not sure, but I don't think you ever tell your girlfriend," and she glanced over her shoulder at him, her eyes twinkling, "Even cover ones, that you practised undoing a bra with your sister."
He smiled to himself, "Well, it's been a while. I'm surprised it worked."
He moved beside her, and they both fixed their eyes on the far wall of the bathroom as he moved her panties down. She stepped out of them, and they approached the bath, still with all eyes fixed a thousand yards down range.
She turned to face him, he kept his eyes on hers. She put her good arm around him and said, "Chuck, its OK. I want you to see what you're doing rather than drop me in the bath, OK?"
He nodded woodenly.
She tightened her arm around his neck, "Chuck, it's OK" she whispered.
He nodded again, and looked at her, "It's... I'm sorry Sarah...It's just... I wish..."
She kissed his cheek lightly, "Shut up, and get me in the bath mister."
"Right," he nodded. He took it as an exercise in ergonomics, as he made sure her legs were safely positioned as she stepped into the bath. Her use of his neck to ease down into the water was purely patient management. Nothing what so ever to do with the perfect breasts now inches from his face. Or the perfect torso that flowed below them. Or the water now over her lap.
Chuck knelt beside the bath, his eyes closed. "Sarah?"
"Chuck?" she sighed as the warm water began its work. Part of her knew he was about to make a fool of himself, but he'd sort of earned it tonight.
"If I don't say this now, I think I'll regret it for the rest of my life. Sarah, you are beautiful," he said with his eyes still closed.
She ran her fingertips down his cheek. When he opened his eyes, they found hers.
"Thank you Chuck," she sighed.