DISCLAIMER: I do not own Chuck.

CHUCK VS. LIVING ON BORROWED TIME

"Wha-what did I do?" Chuck stammers feebly. The cold kitchen floor is hard and unwelcoming as he cowers against the kitchen cabinets. Curling his legs up against his body, he shields his face from the gun that is being waved at him.

"You've hid it somewhere! Where is it? Where?" Spittle sprinkles Chuck's face as the menacing foe towers over his fetal form. A minion giggles crazily from behind the armed attacker. Wincing as he sees how erratic the primary assailant is acting, armed with a deadly object, he rushes to deny.

"I swear I don't know what you're talking about!"

"You know what I'm talking about, now ANSWER me!" The weapon is fired.

"NOOO!" Chuck watches the gush of ice cold water fly directly at his face. He scrunches his eyes shut as he feels the chill seep through to his bones, water gripping his short hair, sopping his dress shirt and blazer, and splashing onto surrounding surfaces. He deeply regrets not changing from his formal attire immediately upon arriving home. But how was he to know he'd be ambushed by his demon children. He hastily wipes the water out of his eyes, and springs forward. His 10 year old son gives a shriek of laughter as Chuck makes a grab for his lethal water gun. It goes flying as Stephen accidently flings it across the room in effort to avoid Chuck's outstretched hands.

"C'mere you!" Chuck latches onto his arm and wrestles the boy into a bear hug on the ground. His son can't stifle his laughter as he tries to sound angry.

"DAA-AAD! NOO!" The cold bite of ice water stings Chuck once again and he loses his breath. Emma, Stephen's twin sister/evil minion has acquired the lethal weapon. Chuck tries to spit the water from his mouth. He feels Stephen break his hold.

"Give up your secrets, old man!" Emma commands.

"UNCLE, UNCLE!' Still lying on the floor, Chuck tries to deflect the water with his hands, with little success.

"Tell us what you know first!" Stephen hollers.

"I'd RATHER DIE!" He feels the water start to wane, their gun running dry. An evil smirk of revenge graces Chuck's face. He's off the floor and has swiped the gun from Emma's small hands before she can react.

"ENOUGH! I have your weapon, and thus I have won this battle!" Chuck throws his fist with the gun into the air. Although relishing in the feeling of victory, he doesn't miss the distinct sound of a key in the front door. Sarah. He has to think fast. "Now, you've… you've soaked my work clothes and.. and flooded the kitchen, you evil, evil, terrible, misbehaved children.. and-and punish you greatly I will!" He shouts loudly, directing his voice over their heads and at the front door. His children look at him bemused, before whipping their head to the front door as it swings open. A suspicious Sarah Bartowski walks over the threshold. She stops in her tracks and surveys the scene. Chuck quickly assumes an angry body position, and looks down at his children. He tries to catch their eyes. You're taking the fall for this one. After all, all he did was defend himself and stop the assault on the kitchen. I'm the hero here. He just hopes Sarah sees it that way too. Chuck chances a look back at his wife. Oh man.

"COME ON CHUCK!" Oh crap.

"Wha-what did I do?" Repeating himself from five minutes ago, only this time he's genuinely afraid.

"How could you let this happen? Everything is sopping wet!" She approaches the kitchen on high heels and a business suit, her heels clicking on the tile. Stephen and Emma avoid her gaze. Chuck's mouth flaps like a fish, searching for a good response.

"They... they started it." He points at his children with the water gun. Eep! He quickly puts the gun behind his back. Wait, it's not my incriminating evidence to hide. He tosses the gun to his children's feet. Emma stifles a giggle. Sarah looks at Chuck with an arched eyebrow.

"But it's your job to stop it." She continues after Chuck's mini performance. She turns to Emma and Stephen. "You guys aren't little anymore, go get the old towels and clean up your mess. " Emma and Stephen mutter quick apologies to their mother and leave the kitchen as quick as they can. "Oh Chuck look at your nice suit!" What the hell happened? You left work five minutes before I did, and this is the mess I come home to?"

"Now why do you assume the mess only came to be, upon my arrival? The kids have half an hour between getting home from school and us getting home from work. They could have made it in that amount of time, and I just discovered it as innocent as-"

"Chuck, you are the mess." Chuck takes a breath and lifts up his finger, about argue his point. He stands like that for several seconds. Exhaling he lowers his hand and head.

"Sorry honey, I should've stopped them… "

"And…" She taps her foot.

"And… I shouldn't have encouraged them..." Sarah smiles a satisfied smile. Leaning up, she kisses Chuck on the cheek and whispers in his ear,

"Forgiven. It helps that you're cute with wet hair." Chuck gasps, feigning offense.

"I am cute all the time, thank you very much." Sarah chuckles and wraps her arms around his neck, Chuck responds with his arms around her back. He'll never get tired of looking into the blue eyes of his wife of 17 years. Intersects, death defying spy missions, memory loss, a small business and three kids later, the couple was still very much in-

"Would you guys please stop making out in the kitchen. We like, eat in here." Stephen said loudly as he stomped by them with a stack of towels. Sarah lightly clipped his head without glancing away from Chuck.


After the kitchen had been dried, business attire changed, and dinner made and devoured, Chuck, Sarah, Emma and Stephen sat bunched together on the couch, enjoying Friday night movie night. With an arm around Sarah and his other hand in the popcorn bowl, Chuck would be very much at peace. Except that there was a missing Bartowski from movie night, 14 year old Sam, his first born angel. She was currently attending a house party hosted by a friend of a friend of a friend of hers. It was not something Chuck was very happy about, but he had consented, not wanting to be a dictator father. He knew she would be safe.

The end credits rolled. Everyone but himself was asleep.

"Wow, what a fascinating movie," he chuckled to himself. Cracking his neck and stretching his limbs, he started the task of bedtime. Gently slipping his arms under Emma, who gave a small snort, he hoisted her up and took up to her bedroom. After being gently laid in her bed, he placed a kiss on her forehead and tucked the sheets under her chin.

"Night, night Em." He turned off the lights and closed the door. Next up: Stephen. "C'mon buddy boy." He said to his slumbering son. Stephen groaned loudly and tried to ignore him, but eventually let Chuck lead him up to his bed by the hand. As Stephen often made a point of telling Chuck "Dudes don't get carried to bed Daa-ad!" Climbing into bed, he got tucked to the chin, and a kiss on the forehead.

"Sleep tight, Stevie."

No one said you couldn't carry your wife to bed, however. Chuck slipped his arms around Sarah and was in the middle of carrying her up the stairs when she stirred.

"…Chuck? Yoocarryingmeumstairs?" He had to think through the nonsense she muttered before responding.

"Mm-hm."

"Das nice," she said contently and nuzzled her head into his chest. He smiled his famous Charles Bartowski smile.


Chuck paced from one end of the wall to the next, arms crossed, drumming his fingers against his forearm. Where was she? God damn, fourteen is way to young for hanky panky! Jesus Chuck, why did your brain go there? Have some faith in your daughter. I mean she is your daughter, with a good head on her shoulders. You trust her. That's why you let her go to this friken party tonight. Well if you trust her, why are you digging trenches in your living room with your pacing? Because you're worried, not because you don't trust her to say no to hanky panky and drugs. OH GOOD LORD THE DRUGS! Did you remind her to not accept ANY drinks from someone she doesn't know? STOP THIS TRAIN OF THOUGHT CHUCK, you know she knows to not do drugs and alcohol…. ALCHOHOL! DID I STRESS ENOUGH THAT SHE'S UNDER DRINKING AGE! No she knows! Of course she knows. Where is she? Oh man, why did she decide to take the bus? I offered to drive her, I should have put my foot down… What if she missed the bus? No no no she has a cellphone, she texts me and Sarah all the time, she knows how to reach us if she missed the bus. WHAT IF HER battery runs out? WHAT IF THE BUS DRIVER IS DRUNK? That would be terrible, he should be fired! Why would I allow her onto a drunk bus driver's bus? What kind of father does that? OH MY GOD OH MY GOD I AM A TERRIBLE FATH-

"Chuck?"

"EEEEE!" Chuck gave a girly shriek of shock. Sarah was standing at the top of the stairs, wearing one of Chuck's t-shirts as a nightgown. "Oh he-hey there honey! Whatchya doin' up you? I'm, uh, I'm just down here, um.. getting a snack! Yeah!" Chuck made an absurd dash to the kitchen, and returned with a chip bag. "See, yea see, just getting some junk food! Cause I'm hungry and-"

"Chuck!" Sarah said, in an effort to silence him.

"Yeeeah?"

"Sam will be home when she said she would be home. I trust her, so should you." Sarah wasn't going to be fooled by her anxious, chip munching husband. "Come back to bed.

"No, she-she should be home soon, I'm gonna stay up 'till she gets in."

"Oh Chuck. I don't think you should expect her to be home an hour early." Sarah sighs. Chuck casts a quick glance at the Governor. 11:31pm.

"Well what kind of party do these kids have that lasts to 12:30 in the morning?" Chuck asks, exasperated, flopping onto the couch. Sarah padded down the stairs in her fluffy blue slippers, (an old birthday present from Chuck) mirroring him, flopped onto the couch beside him. She sighed, rested her head on his shoulder, and was soon on the precipice of sleep.

"… a fun party." She answers. It went unheard. Chuck was softly snoring.