Jun 5, 2020
New chapter of “The Detective and the Tech Guy”! Read it. Review if you have the energy. But like I say in the author’s notes, I completely get it if you don’t have the energy.
I’m also sad and exhausted.
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New chapter of “The Detective and the Tech Guy”! Read it. Review if you have the energy. But like I say in the author’s notes, I completely get it if you don’t have the energy.
I’m also sad and exhausted.
Another chapter of The Detective and the Tech Guy is up, part 3 of “The Detective and the Tech Guy Versus the ExoBand”!
Enjoy!
The Detective and the Tech Guy continues with part 2 of “The Detective and the Tech Guy Versus the ExoBand”!
Enjoy!
A new arc in The Detective and the Tech Guy!!! First part of “The Detective and the Tech Guy Versus the ExoBand”. I’m trying to catch up on the tumblr master post. It takes longer than you’d imagine. Phew. But for now, you can read it on the fanfiction . net site!
Enjoy!
The Detective and the ManFatale, Part 4
Onward!!!! Part 4!!! The end of the ManFatale arc!!!! If you’re like “WTF is this?” you can read all of it by going to my MASTERPOST for The Detective and the Tech Guy. If you want to read this chapter on fanfiction.net, you can do that by clicking >THIS<.
Enjoy!
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He'd just had to steal a parking spot from a little old lady who was just barely able to see over her steering wheel, and he felt bad about that, he really did. But it meant he was able to catch up to Sarah fast enough to be able to see her enter the office building she'd told him about earlier.
Just like she'd said, the building was off of Melrose, in SoHo. But he didn't follow her inside. Instead, he moved behind a short palm that was planted in a courtyard off to the side, complete with benches and planters. He leaned against the trunk of it and stared at the entrance.
He was old hat at this now, after a few days of tailing that asshole Fake Cartwright. Robbie. Pfft.
Maybe tailing his girlfriend while she was working wasn't the greatest thing he'd ever done in their relationship, granted. And she would probably be so mad at him if she knew he'd gotten in his car and followed her as best he could without getting too close, knowing she was way too smart to let herself be followed as closely as he wanted to. He'd nearly lost her a few times even, but he'd gotten back on track eventually, not wanting to be directly in her line of sight because she was a damn detective and she knew what his damn car looked like.
But it scared him to death hearing her yell, the dial tone…Seeing those papers scattered over the floor as though she'd had the file in her hand when Not-Cartwright had broken in, grabbed her, and yanked her out. God, the things he'd been unable to keep himself from imagining on the way there.
And then when he saw she was safe, when he held her in his arms, having to watch her leave again to go someplace potentially dangerous, and with no cell phone, no way to contact him, or more importantly, the police. That mean Detective Casey guy. God, that guy was a jerk. But at least he'd be able to back Sarah up if she called him, if she was in danger.
So Chuck had done the only thing he could think of to make sure she was okay. He'd followed her. He did have a cellphone. And a vested interest in her safety, damn it.
And he was going to watch those doors like a hawk. If this Jerald Brown fellow wasn't the upstanding tech guru Chuck had always figured he was in spite of never meeting him face to face, Chuck would take him down himself. He'd played flag football in junior high P.E. He knew what he was about.
He waited, waited…waited some more…
Until he spotted something out of the corner of his eye. He ducked back behind the palm tree as best he could and watched as the man he now knew wasn't Robert Cartwright strolled up the sidewalk towards the building, in his off-white suit, pale pink tie, suede shoes. A chill went through Chuck as the man stopped and took his sunglasses off, peering up at the very same building Sarah had just gone into to meet the man this imposter hired her to investigate.
His phone was in his hand immediately. He didn't have a direct line to Detective John Casey, but all he had to do was press three numbers.
There was no reason why this man should know what was happening in there. There was no reason why this man should know about this building in the first place, unless…well, unless he knew. Had he followed Sarah, too? Or had he followed Brown?
How did he know?
Oh God. God, Sarah didn't have her cellphone. And now he was going up the steps. If Chuck followed him, he wouldn't be able to stop him. This man was a seasoned criminal and possibly a killer. He definitely had a weapon.
God, he was opening the door.
"9-1-1, what's your emergency?"
"There's a woman being attacked inside of an office. A man went in there and he's attacking her. He has a weapon." He gave the address, told the operator she needed to hurry, and he hung up again.
It killed him, absolutely destroyed him, to move away from the building. He felt like he was dying as he spun on his heel and sprinted back to his car. He was leaving her in there, alone, and he was so terrified he was on the verge of a breakdown. He was angry with himself, sick with himself, and still he got into his car, turned it on, and with only a half glance back at the building his girlfriend was currently inside of with an angry, potentially murderous conman, he sped away from her.
God, he hoped he was doing the right thing. He hoped to any deity that was listening that he was doing the right thing.
XOXOXOXOXOXOXO
Sarah's hand twitched automatically, ready to draw and put this imposter on the ground with a hole in his chest, but before she could do anything else, there was a loud bang and the arm of her chair exploded in splinters.
She yelped and fell out of the chair onto the floor, holding her hands up, her life having just flashed before her eyes.
That had been an extremely precise shot, not meant to hurt her…a warning that he would hurt her if she gave him any sort of reason to. He'd just missed her but she had scratches on her wrist and the back of her hand from the splintered wood exploding next to her.
"Stand up, kick your gun over here, Miss Walker," he demanded coolly, the South African accent gone. His American accent sounded practiced, too, however. "And then keep your hands in the air. You move wrong and I'll shoot you between the eyes. I've got nothing to lose now. Don't think I won't shoot a pretty girl…"
Sarah stood up and carefully went into her holster, pulling her gun out, setting it on the ground and sliding it across the tile floor to the conman.
"You stand up, too, ya fat fuck," the imposter said to Brown, reaching behind him to shut the door as much as he could with how he'd broken the handle getting in.
The private investigator and ex-Pinkerton detective felt anger start to rise inside of her. Not only did this fucker take a shot at her, he was going around calling good men 'fat fucks' too? She clenched her jaw, unable to help herself.
"You think you're a big boy now that you have that gun pointed at us," she said, keeping her hands up. But God she could feel that knife at her hip, and the ones strapped to her thigh and her fingers itched for them. But the only safe thing to do was to throw verbal barbs at him, so she kept going. "You can insult Mr. Brown when you've got a gun trained on 'im, but I bet just a few days ago, you were kissing his ass, weren't you?"
"Who the hell do you think you are, bitch?" She narrowed her eyes dangerously. "Sarah Walker, private investigator. Without those legs, you'd be working at an Abercrombie & Fitch spraying perfume at teenagers."
She inwardly smirked. He might be a dangerous conman, and a smart enough criminal to have gotten away with his ruse for this long, but he hadn't done his homework apparently. He had no idea she'd been a Pinkerton detective. He had no idea whom he was dealing with.
"You picked the wrong P.I. to hire, Cartwright," Brown said, his voice a little shaky as he stood behind her, still at his wife's desk. "She's not just good at her job, she has a moral compass, and a nose for sniffing out criminal lowlifes."
"I did all right, didn't I? Who's standing here with the gun?"
"What are you gonna do?" Brown asked, seeming to gain a bit more confidence now. "Kill us?"
"Yes, actually. I am. Nobody knows we're here." That was true, Sarah thought miserably. Chuck only knew that she'd gone to an office building in SoHo off of Melrose. There were a handful of them. And he'd have no way of knowing if something bad was happening to her. God, she wished so hard for his paranoia, his idiotic jealous paranoia, that worried crease he'd had between his eyebrows…Please, Chuck… Maybe she could telepathically project terror at him and he'd feel something. They were close enough, emotionally bonded, weren't they? She'd never been so connected to anyone else in her entire life. Wasn't that how that weird crap worked?
Please, please, please, Chuck…
"What did you do with Cartwright?" she asked. If she could just get him talking, she could stall whatever it was he meant to do with them.
"I didn't touch the rat bastard. It wasn't me," he groused. "Wish it had been. He was a lousy piece of shit by all accounts, swimming in his money, an asshole to everyone, greedy."
"So he is dead, then. Who did it if it wasn't you?"
"He's dead. There was a storm, destroyed his boat probably. Found some wreckage where I was in Point d'Esny. Also found his body. Nobody else was on the beach so I took everything I could carry, took his body out onto the water, and dropped it with a bag of sand. Got rid of his boat altogether. Wasn't until a few days later I found out he was a Cape Town big shot. But he was a recluse, too. Nobody ever really saw him much at all. Perfect opportunity for me." He shrugged, and Sarah watched for any opportunity she might have to catch him off guard, but this obviously wasn't the first time he'd held a gun on someone. And she was sure this wouldn't be the first time he'd killed either…if it turned out he got that far.
And oh God, what would she do if he started shooting to kill?
"How did you even pull this off?" Brown asked.
"Easy. When the guy was alive and had less dead-bloat than he had when I found 'im, we looked pretty similar I guess. His IDs all worked long enough for me to forge new ones. Nobody asked any questions when Robert Cartwright showed up in Los Angeles for business. The checks all worked, the bank tellers all let me walk right in, the credit cards worked. I've made a fortune off of this guy, all because he was a shitty sailor."
He kissed the tips of his fingers.
"You're deplorable," Sarah said.
"Mmhmm. Deplorable enough to kill you two so I can get away with it all."
Brown cursed. "You aren't getting away with a damn thing!"
"I am. I've already destroyed any records that I was ever here. I've sold most of his African possessions, withdrawn every last cent I could from the banks. After I'm gone, they'll probably file a missing persons report." He chuckled and grinned a now twisted version of Alain Delon's smile. She wished she could apologize to the French actor for ever thinking he was similar.
This asshole wished…
ManFatale, Chuck had called him near the beginning of this damn job. She'd made fun of him then, but now she saw just how right he was. There was a good chance she was dying here today, in this office with the knitted pillows. Underestimating this bastard was her downfall.
"You don't think they'll dog your steps no matter where you go?" she asked then, starting to let anger overtake her fear. She liked anger better. It was better than giving in to despair, despair that she'd seen Chuck for the last time not an hour ago, climbing into his fuel-efficient car, after trying to make her take his phone. Maybe if she'd taken it, she could've secretly hit the emergency button on it.
What was he going to do?
What would he do if she died here today?
Oh, God…
No. Anger. Anger was better.
"I've covered my tracks."
"You haven't covered shit. The FBI, the CIA, the NSA, they've all got guys who find pieces of shit like you every single day. You aren't getting away it with no matter what you do to us," she hissed through her teeth.
The imposter angled his gun down suddenly and shot, sending a bullet clattering into the ground at her feet. She screamed and clasped her hands to her mouth, jumping away. He raised the gun and shot again, hitting the desk right next to her hip and she fell to the side, onto the floor. Brown knelt down behind her, a protective move, but this time the bullet that came from the imposter's gun was true.
Brown hit the tile hard, a hole in his shoulder as he cried out in pain.
Holy shit!
Now there was fear inside of her. Abject fear as she acted fast, grabbing Brown's hand and making him press it against his wound. "Just hold it…press down, you'll be okay…"
"Get up," the imposter growled at her, stepping closer. She ignored him as she tried to help the injured man. "I said get up!" he yelled this time, grabbing her by her hair and yanking her to her feet.
She heard sirens in the distance and she knew as his eyes darted to the side in momentary worry that this was her one and only chance to get herself and Jerald Brown out of here alive.
Sarah Walker, P.I. struck fast. She swung her left arm around, clamped her fingers around his wrist and pushed the gun away from her temple where he'd been holding it. He pulled the trigger, breaking the window behind her, and the sound of it startled him enough that she was able to bring her knee up and back and slam her heel right between his legs.
He yelled in pain as she snapped the arm that had the gun down across her knee, hearing the crack of his bone breaking and the clatter of the gun hitting the floor. She kicked it away as he fell hard onto his back and she crawled onto him, slamming her fist down into his face, over and over and over and over again until he put his non-injured arm up and begged her to stop.
Just then the door burst right off of its hinges, police officers racing inside.
"GET ON THE GROUND!" an LAPD officer barked, and in spite of the fact that he might not be talking to her, she crawled down onto her knees and put her hands behind her head. She didn't know who or what had brought the police here but she wasn't about to be shot for trying to explain right away when they were attempting to take control of the situation.
Once the yelling stopped and the police had clambered over to Brown who was still conscious but whimpering, an officer grabbed her by her arm and hoisted her up. "My name is Sarah Walker, private investigator. That man broke in while I was in a meeting with Mr. Brown and held a gun on us. He shot him. Tried to…tried to shoot me, too." She was breathless, and she realized that in spite of being in scenarios with guns, bombs, and other terrifying situations, this had been one of the closest shaves she'd had.
And she had a lot more to lose this time.
She had to press her lips together and blink a few times to keep the rush of terrified tears at bay.
"All right, miss. Just come over here and sit in this chair. Your name again…?"
"Sarah Walker," she murmured, trying to take deep breaths. "I own Walker Investigative Enterprises. I've-I've got a P.I. license."
The two officers exchanged flat looks. "A P.I., huh?"
This had been too traumatic for her to find the willpower to give them dirty looks for that.
"Get an ambulance here, we've got two men in need of medical attention," one of the cops said into their walky-talky. "One gunshot wound. Another with abrasions to the face, broken arm."
Sarah thought about how badly she wished she could've given him more abrasions to the face, and she thought maybe she was starting to feel more like herself now that the danger had abated. Though her ear was ringing bad from that gun going off so close to it.
"You're Sarah Walker, that's Jerald Brown…and who is this guy?" The cop gestured to Fake Cartwright.
Paramedics rushed in then, tending to Brown first and getting him lifted onto a gurney.
"A criminal," Sarah said. "If you look up Robert Cartwright, you'd find this man's picture. But he-he isn't Robert Cartwright."
"Huh?"
She explained the situation to them for the next three minutes, accepting the strong coffee one of them gave her, and the blanket the other one wrapped around her shoulders. She didn't know when she'd begun to shiver. And it wasn't from the cold.
As she realized she was just barely keeping from slipping into shock, suddenly there was a shuffling of people at the door and Detective John Casey was there, his hulking figure taking up the entire doorway practically. "Whatever she said about him, it's true," he said, pointing over her shoulder. "Cartwright's an imposter." He pulled his badge out as he walked into the room and flashed it at the officers. "I'll handle the questioning from here, officers."
They both nodded and moved away.
And that was when she looked up to see Chuck step out from behind the detective, his eyes finding her immediately.
"Sarah…"
"Chuck!"
She left the coffee and the blanket behind, surging to her feet just in time for his body to crash into hers, his arms so strong as they folded her up against him, so warm and safe and everything she'd needed the moment this had all ended.
Sarah felt her boyfriend's lips against her hair, and then her temple, and her cheek, and he just held her so tight. She didn't ever want to let go. Ever.
And she heard him curse, his hand coming up to brush over her hair. "Are you okay?" he asked finally. "Did he hurt you? I'll kill him."
"Maybe not the smartest thing to say in front of the LAPD, idiot," Casey grumbled from where he was standing over Chuck's shoulder.
She ignored him, though, burying her face in Chuck's neck and letting herself cry just a little. She'd been so scared she'd never see him again. So scared she'd never feel this. Or eat one of his waffles he made that were never thick enough or cooked as much as she wanted them to be because he didn't put enough batter in, and didn't leave it in the iron long enough. Because he was too impatient, like a little boy.
"I'm okay," she gasped out, trying to hold back still and not doing a great job of it. "I'm okay. I love you."
"I love you, too," he said immediately, holding her even tighter, pressing his lips against her temple and keeping them there.
She finally pulled back, letting him cup her face and kiss her properly, and then he kissed the remnants of the few tears she'd shed away. "What—How?" she asked.
"I…" He winced. "I was worried. Super, super worried. I had this weird feeling in my gut letting you drive off to this meeting with no cell phone or anything. So I…gah, I followed you. I know you—you probably…" He huffed at her impatient look. "You're right. Let's table that. I was waiting outside, 'cause I'm your man and I wanted to have your back in case things got cray. But then while I was waiting, I saw that fake-ass mother fucker walk up with his cheesy as hell B-List sunglasses and that shit-eating smirk, and I knew right away that you were in trouble." A smile began to grow on her face as she watched him start to get riled up now as he told his story. "I was going to run after him and strangle him or roundhouse kick him in the jaw or somethin' but then I figured I'd most likely get shot and you'd never forgive me if that happened. So I called 9-1-1 instead and got in my car to come find Cas—Casey—Detective Casey." He cleared his throat at the glare the older man sent him.
"You're insane," she breathed, swallowing another sob and throwing her arms around his neck, letting him lift her enough that her feet were dangling a few inches off the floor, and they stayed like that for long enough that Casey finally cleared his throat.
Chuck set her down and she resisted the urge to kiss him again, longing in her gaze as she peered up at him for a moment…And then she turned to John Casey and nodded.
"Yeah, well…S'a miracle we even got here when we did what with this moron driving like a fuckin' grandma."
"What?!" Chuck spun on his heels to face the LAPD detective. "That's not even true! I was going fast! Things were whizzing past my window!" He let go of her arm with one hand and mimicked swishing his hand back and forth past his head manically.
"Right. Sure. Walker, I'm gonna need you at the station. Your secretary here only gave me the highlights. He can't talk and drive at the same time." Casey turned and headed for the door.
"Are you serious right now?" Chuck asked, his pitch getting a bit higher. "Secretary? How many times do I—?" They both began to follow after him then, Sarah's fist twisted in Chuck's sleeve, pulling him along. "Oh. He's messing with me, isn't he?"
She heard the amused grunt from the cop as he pressed the button to call the elevator, and she saw the small smirk on his face. It made her feel so glad to be alive.
XOXOXOXOXOXOXO
It had only taken twenty minutes for Detective Casey to eject Chuck from the room where he'd taken them for questioning. She'd had to watch as he interrupted one final time—"Sarah, tell him about…"—then Casey's patience, which had been wearing thin already no doubt, snapped. He stood up, grabbed Chuck by his arm, and escorted him out of the room, shutting the door in his face.
She'd had to smirk inwardly at the cute, offended sounds of confusion that her boyfriend made until he was locked out on the other side of the door where he could no longer interrupt.
Casey'd finally sat down across from her again, and she'd told him every last detail she could, even letting him have the files she'd kept in her briefcase that she'd had during the meeting with Brown, in case he'd needed convincing.
"So what made you so sure of Jerald Brown that you ended up focusing most of your efforts on investigating your client, rather than investigating the guy he was paying you to investigate?" Casey asked, forty-five minutes into their meeting.
"Part of it was the fact that I spent three days tailing him, going through his background, his financial records, combing through his personal life, and I'd found absolutely nothing to make me think he was anything other than a good businessman, and a good man in general. Not that he was without faults, but none of it was illegal or reprehensible. No illicit affairs, no fraud, nothing untoward." She shrugged.
"And the other part?"
"Chuck insisted he was a commendable man."
Casey scoffed. "You took him at his word?"
"I always do," she said, holding her chin high. "He knows who is who in his own industry, and he's a commendable man himself."
"Don't get defensive, Walker."
"I did my homework. And on the other side, I had this guy who, for all intents and purposes, was very smooth, seemed to know just what to say to every question or comment I had during our meetings, and…this was the key…the more time I spent in these meetings with who I thought was Robert Cartwright, the more I got the feeling he wanted me to find something wrong."
Casey grunted, thunking a pen against his chin a few times, thoughtfully. Then he narrowed his eyes. "I get where you're going. Instead of wanting you to just check and make sure this potential future business associate was on the level, and being relieved when you kept coming back with confirmation that he was, Cartwright seemed like he was digging for some dirt on him instead."
"Exactly. It was sneaky. And it made me super suspicious."
"Hmng," Casey tossed the pen on the table and pushed his chair back. "Don't blame ya. That was pretty good work, Detective. Don't take this the wrong way," he started, which was always a stellar way for another person to start a statement, she thought wryly, "but I'm curious as to why ya didn't just take the money and let this lie."
Sarah crossed her arms and stood up from her chair, nibbling on her bottom lip. "I'm not that kind of P.I., Detective Casey. I want to make a living off of this P.I. business I'm building, but not at the expense of innocent people, and not to aid and abet criminals. I'm operating on the right side of the law."
"So no adultery cases, huh?" He grinned a bit lecherously and she glared at him.
"If someone comes in offering me the right amount of money to try to catch their partner with someone else, depending on the person and the case, I might accept. But what business is that of yours?"
"It ain't. Lighten up. Yeesh." He held his hands up defensively, one of the gestures that infuriated her the most when men did it at her.
"Is that all you need from me?"
"Yeah. But make sure to stick around for a week or so while we work on this case. We may need the FBI in on this if he's committed crimes like this before, and they'll be bringing the South African and Cape Town authorities in, I'm sure."
"I will," she said, getting up and walking towards the door. "Oh. Here." She came back and set all of the work she'd done down on his desk. "I'm sure you folks'll need this." He deserved the snarky smirk she sent him, and the look on his face told him he probably knew he deserved it, even if he wouldn't admit it out loud ever in a million years.
"Thanks. And uh…make sure you take care of that hand. Don't think I didn't see you trying to hide the scratches. Was that his face that gave you those?"
She looked down at the scratches on the back of her hand, and now on her knuckles from his face, just as Casey surmised. "Yes and no. His face, but also, he shot at the arm of the chair where I'd just been and the wood sort of exploded and caught me."
Casey winced. "You gonna be okay?"
"I'll be fine. Just a little home first aid is required. Nothing deep."
"Good." There was silence between them then as she nodded and went for the door. "Walker."
She stopped and looked at him over her shoulder, her hand on the doorknob. "Yeah?"
"We've got officers watchin' him now where he was admitted to the hospital, and when they've set that arm and gotten his face fixed up," she noticed a particular thread of pleasure in his smirk at that, "they're takin' him to his own cell here where I'll question him personally while we wait for FBI to send someone. That is to say…you did some damn fine work."
She smiled. "Thanks. Oh. Did Jerald Brown…?"
"He's gonna be fine. I'll email you where they took 'im if you want to visit tomorrow. He'll be kept at the hospital for a few days."
"Good. And yes. Please do. Thanks."
He nodded and she stepped out of the room, finding Chuck sitting a bit dejectedly in what she thought might be a perp chair at the end of someone's desk. Thankfully, whoever's desk it was seemed to be gone for the day.
She gestured for him to followed her with a flick of her head and a smile when he lifted his chin from his chest and met her eyes.
And she clung to him as best she could while still being able to walk to the elevator.
XOXOXOXOXOXOXOXO
She was quiet the whole ride back to her apartment, curled up in his passenger seat, having kicked her heels off and pulled her legs against her chest, her forehead leaning against the window as she gazed out on the late afternoon street.
And the sun had finally set, the sky still light out but darkening by the time he pulled into a parking spot in her apartment complex. They'd left her car in free street parking where she'd left it before her meeting with Brown a few hours earlier and they'd get it later, tomorrow most likely. She hadn't seemed as worried about it as she was about finally going home, so he'd promptly driven her from the police station to her place with no stops in between.
Now they sat in the comfortable warmth of his car, the engine off, silence permeating…
Until Sarah turned to look at him, smiling softly, and then she reached out and took his hand, not looking away for even a moment as she breathed a quiet, "Will you stay with me?"
He felt everything inside of him crumbling and never in his entire life had he ever wanted to protect anything or anyone as much as he wanted to protect Sarah Walker. Not trusting his voice, still shaken up from what had nearly happened, he nodded vigorously instead, and she smiled a bit harder.
They got out and headed up to her apartment, his arm around her shoulders the whole way, and he used his key to let them in, turning on the lights for her as she tossed her purse onto the entryway table and kicked off her heels again, shrugging her jacket off.
It was then that he saw her hand. There were bloody marks on the back of it, cuts on her wrist, and red welts with dried blood and most likely bruising underneath on her knuckles.
Nothing else mattered as he made a beeline for her and gently picked up her arm, cradling her hand and wrist in his comforting grip. "Sarah…"
"I know, I know…but it's fine. I've had worse."
"You've let this go for hours."
"I've had worse, Chuck. It's okay. I'll just ice it—"
He shook his head vehemently and pulled her through her apartment to the bathroom. "You have first aid?"
"You know where it is from where you burned yourself on the coffee pot."
"Oh…oh yeah. Um…remind me, though."
Seeing blood on her hand, her own blood, knowing she'd been hurt, knowing she could have been worse than hurt, was starting to catch up to him suddenly. And he was trying so hard not to let her see. He didn't want her thinking he was going to be a basket case about her chosen profession. That every little cut she got made him crazy and sick with worry. But this had felt like a big deal. A really big deal. And he had no idea what would've happened if the police hadn't shown up, if he hadn't called them.
"Hey," she breathed suddenly, and he cursed himself a little, knowing he'd let it all show on his face anyway. "Hey, look at me." She cupped his face and forced his gaze to hers. Her blue eyes reassured him immediately and he had to resist the urge to melt into her, hold onto her for dear life. "Chuck, are you spiraling because of this?" she asked, presenting her injured hand to him.
He nodded, putting his hands on her hips to keep himself steady.
Her good hand stroked his jaw and his eyelids fluttered. "Please don't. I'm okay."
"Help me maybe not spiral by telling me where that first aid kit is and I can clean you up a bit."
"It's right here, in the cupboard under this drawer." She shifted to bump her hip against the drawer she was talking about. "But…before you do that, would you mind if I took a shower?"
He shook his head and leaned in to kiss her on the forehead, a slow, long kiss. He understood the request at a deeper level, but he wouldn't say it out loud. She needed some time alone after everything. She'd almost been killed, watched Brown get shot right in front of her, and had cops swarming her, and finally the questioning at the station and being trapped in the car with him as he drove her home.
"Thank you. It-It'll be a quick one." She slid past him, dragging her fingertips over his abdomen as she went to the shower and turned on the water.
"Take your time, baby. I'll have a martini ready for you when you're done." On second thought, as she gingerly started to unbutton her blouse, he waited for her to realize he was still there and turn to meet his gaze before he said it again. "Take your time."
Understanding dawned on her features and her shoulders drooped a bit. He thought her chin might have quivered and he just turned on his heel and left before he was tempted to gather her up in his arms and hold her some more. She needed to be alone for a bit, though, so he went into her kitchen and started preparing a few martinis, two to start with, one for each of them. He didn't know how many of these she was going to need, but he'd make her as many as she asked for.
And he waited, enjoying the texts Ellie had sent him throughout all of this, the one about Clara pushing herself up to sit for a few seconds before falling again. The look she gave her mom like she didn't know if she should cry or not. It warmed him from the inside out. And he'd been so cold before. Unable to get rid of that terrifying sensation he'd had when he'd screeched to a halt next to the office building, seeing the police cars haphazardly parked, lights still blinking, the ambulance there, someone being wheeled into it…
He'd seen it was Brown, that he'd been shot, and he tried to tear into the building, only to have Casey and two other officers have to grab onto him and nearly take him down to the ground. When they got him to stop, Casey barked, "He's with me", and he yanked on Chuck's tie, pointing in his face with a "Slow down, kid".
That was all it took for him to gain control, afraid this detective might knock him out altogether if he didn't take a breath. And he let Casey take point, shaken to his core until the moment he stepped into the room and saw his very own detective sitting there, alive, no bullet holes in her like the man downstairs'd had.
He felt a chill go through him as he stood there peering out into the courtyard of Sarah's building, watching an older woman take down a few shirts she'd hung on a clothesline and toss them into a basket. Her tabby cat made a figure-8 around her legs in the meantime, finally following her inside as she hobbled up the steps and into the building.
Chuck let himself get lost in everything for a few minutes, going through all of the worst scenarios that thankfully hadn't happened. Sarah was alive and well, currently in the shower, washing off the remnants of her harrowing ordeal.
He'd heard everything that had happened to her in Mrs. Brown's office while she told the grumpy detective—before said grump kicked him out. He supposed he couldn't blame the guy for it, though, because he'd caught himself interrupting too often. No matter how many times he apologized, he never learned, and his punishment was sitting out by himself for the remainder of the conversation.
But Sarah had been shot at multiple times, and every time Not-Cartwright had purposely missed her, his intent being to scare her. That made Chuck Bartowski angry. There was an extra level of pathology to lord your power over someone in that way, terrifying them before you kill them, making them suffer… It made him feel so disgusted, and then he thought Sarah must have come into contact with psychopaths like this guy before in her line of work.
She was an incredible bad ass, the coolest, strongest person he'd ever met. And he was sure no matter how often she'd come face to face with these crazy assholes, it didn't make being shot at any easier to handle, especially when it was so cruelly done to terrorize her. By the shakiness in her voice when she'd told them about him shooting her chair and then at her feet, and finally at the desk next to her hip, before sinking a bullet into Mr. Brown, the man she'd been attempting to protect, Chuck could tell it had gotten to her. Genuinely.
Maybe he shouldn't announce it in front of the LAPD, but deep inside, Chuck wasn't sure he'd be able to hold himself back from murdering that guy if he'd had a crack at him when he first got into that room and saw Sarah there, her face so pale, the blanket around her shoulders, the bun she'd had in her hair when he'd seen her last half pulled out… He'd discovered later that the man had grabbed her by her hair and yanked her up to her feet by it.
Chuck thought he'd like to do the same to him, but instead he'd pull his spine right out with one hard yank. Mortal Kombat style.
"Thought I'd bring the first aid kit with me because I already know you'll refuse to take no for an answer."
He spun on his heel, letting the curtain fall back into place and cover the window to see Sarah had wandered in, her step light like a cat's so that he hadn't heard her come in. Granted he might've also been a bit distracted.
But then she set the first aid kit on the table and frowned deeply. "What's wrong?"
"Huh? Wrong?"
"You turned around and looked like a rabidly angry gorilla or something for a second."
He just shook his head and sniffed in amusement. "It's nothing."
"Chuck…"
"I was thinking about what he did to you, and maybe imagining myself doing one of the Mortal Kombat fatality moves on him. That's all." He stuffed his hands in his pockets and shrugged, slowly wandering over.
She widened her eyes. "I don't know what those moves entail but you said the word fatality, so that sounds a little serious, buddy."
At least that shower had made it so she seemed a little more like herself. Less shaken, more settled. The almost-unnoticeable shiver she'd had before was gone.
"It is. I have to be honest with you, Sarah. Part of me is angry with myself that I didn't just follow him and body tackle him into the ground then and there."
Her eyes flashed, concern and even a bit of frustration in her face. And then she put her hand on his chest, her fingers curling against his shirt as she shook her head. "Chuck, don't say that. Please never do something like that. He had a gun. He would've killed you."
He clenched his jaw and looked away.
"I-I'm not trying to make it seem like you're weak or incapable, baby. I'm really not. Just—Listen to me. I'm trained in combat, I have extensive training and years of experience using guns. I had a gun with me, as well as the knives I always have strapped to me. Hey, look at me. Please." She put her good hand on the side of his face and pulled his eyes back to hers. "I was nearly powerless in there. He had me, Chuck. If he hadn't slipped, let his guard down for that one second…" Her voice drifted off. "My point is that someone trained, like me, could have easily died doing whatever it is you might've done in that moment instead of what you ended up doing." She stroked her hand through his curls. "Which was the right thing."
"I know." He gently slid his hand around her waist and pulled her a little closer. "It just felt…terrible. Watching him go in there, knowing you were about to have him burst in on you. And knowing now what he ended up doing, that you were hurt and Brown was shot. What if I could've stopped all of it?"
"What if you couldn't have but you tried anyway and ended up being shot yourself?" Her eyes searched his. He couldn't come up with an answer to that. "What would I do, then? What would I even do if you were shot, Chuck? I can't even begin to think…" She let out a harsh breath, shaking her head. And he held her tighter.
"I ran away from you. I left you behind."
"You saved my life," she said in a much steadier voice, her features hard, willing him to understand. "What you ended up doing wasn't just the right thing, Chuck, it was incredibly brave."
He winced a little. "It didn't feel very brave."
"You could've let your worry for me, your fear, overtake you and you could've run after him, tried to stop him, and ended up getting all of us killed…but instead you called the police, knowing that they'd have more of a chance of stopping him than you ever would. And you went to get Casey involved, which…" She paused. "Why did you get Casey?" She blinked, her brow furrowed as though the question had just struck her at that moment.
Chuck swallowed thickly. "I was afraid they'd believe the wrong person unless you had someone they trusted vouching for you. And I knew Casey would be the perfect person to be there for that."
She beamed at him so suddenly that his heart felt like an insane amount of weight had been taken off of it. And then she hugged him tightly, and he hugged her back similarly. "You're brave and brilliant, Chuck Bartowski."
He felt so much pride in that moment, hearing how proud she was of him, how grateful she was, how impressed she was, in her voice, feeling it in the way she squeezed him, kissed his cheek.
"And you're a bad ass and the best, Sarah Walker. So I guess we make a good pair. Maybe I can be your assistant."
"No," she giggled, kissing his cheek again and then pulling back. "I will let you take care of me, though."
"Oh, gladly," he said with as much warmth as he was capable of, and then he gently pushed her to sit in the chair at the table and went to grab a bowl, putting some warm water and soap in it, then wandering back with that and a cloth in hand.
He scooted close to her and let her drape her hand over the bowl as he silently cleaned the cuts that didn't look so bad now that she'd showered. She only winced a little at the cuts on her wrist when he was gently rubbing ointment over them, and then he wrapped a light bandage around all of it.
"I look like the bride of Frankenstein's monster," she said with a giggle once he finished.
"She wishes," Chuck answered, watching as Sarah turned her arm a bit to look at his work. "What?" he asked when she gave him a quiet, searching look.
"You did a pretty good job here, actually."
That made him smile. "Listen, I grew up with a big sister who's wanted to be a doctor ever since she found out what a doctor was. Do you know how often I got wrapped up in bandages through all the years I spent under the same roof as her?"
She laughed. "Was it often?"
"Often enough." He chuckled. "She got better at it when she was actually in med school and I guess I picked up some things, little tricks of the trade. Don't ask me to stitch a wound shut, though, because I will faint."
Sarah snorted. "That's cute."
"Is it?" he drawled dubiously. He got up then and straightened his back, feeling a few pops, then put the bowl away, the bandages and the first aid kit, and when he came back out, Sarah had finished her martini.
She held the glass up towards him and pouted a little.
"Another?" he asked, receiving a smile in return. He chuckled and took her glass, leaning down to kiss her forehead, then went back to the kitchen to make her another. "Hey, you want a flavor in it this time? Maybe some lime? I saw a lime in your fridge."
Sarah was standing next to him suddenly—those cat-like silent feet of hers—and he nearly jumped. "Sorry. Didn't mean to sneak." He shrugged at her wince. "You just…You've never put flavors in a martini for me before. It's always just been a traditional, perfectly dry martini. What's gotten into my Chuck?"
"If you want me to make it like I always do, I can." He shrugged again. She was looking at him steadily, that look of hers that saw right through him. And he sighed. "It has nothing to do with the martini, but-but I guess today sort of put into perspective for me that you're not…"
"What?"
"Immortal. Indestructible." His throat was dry then and he looked away, swallowing.
"Did you…think I was? Like some kind of comic book character?"
"No. Of course not." He sniffed in amusement. "But what you do is dangerous and it's something I'm going to have to come to terms with. I hadn't before this because I guess I…haven't had to yet. But I have to now."
"Chuck, I'm okay."
"I know you are. So am I. We're okay. And that's not something that's gonna change, no matter how many ManFatales try to take you away from me."
Sarah smirked at that and gave him a side-eye. "No fucking way anybody is taking me away from you. And vice versa," she added, pointing at him a bit threateningly.
"I didn't just mean romantically." He chuckled. "I meant…uh…you know."
"Oh." She sobered significantly. "That, too. And yeah…maybe this time we can try some lime in the martini. I have some pineapple slices, too. Maybe some of the juice…?"
"Splendid idea," he said, giving her a warm smile. And they stood side by side as he prepared more martinis for them to enjoy.
They eventually found their way to Sarah's bed, stretching themselves out over it and leaning back against her headboard. She'd since fallen asleep, her harrowing ordeal earlier on in the day knocking her out soon after she curled herself up on his chest.
He just held onto her, looking down into her face. She looked younger when she was asleep, so at peace, without any worries to speak of. But then his eyes latched onto her wrapped hand and wrist that was slung over his chest and he frowned.
She was a private investigator. And as awesome as it was, as hot as it was that he was dating someone so damn cool, he couldn't let himself forget how serious it was, too. How serious it could be. He'd never want her to give up what she wanted to do, who she wanted to be, so that he had better peace of mind when she went to work, the way the boyfriend of an accountant might. His girlfriend wasn't going to stop being a private investigator, whether he was awful enough to want her to or not.
And so…Chuck Bartowski was determined instead to support her. To be here on the hard days like today. To protect her when she needed him to. To bandage her cuts, hold her, make her martinis, and let her fall asleep in his arms.
Because being with Sarah Walker, P.I. was so much better than being with some accountant who sat in an office all day. The worry, the nerves, the adrenaline, and even the fear, were all worth it because she was worth anything and everything.
This was her, he realized, looking down into her face.
These cases with genuinely bad dudes wanting to do her harm because she was good at her job, because she was working to take them down, were all part of what made her…her. The danger, the chase, the high stakes…that was all part of her.
He loved her.
That included everything that made her who she was. That included this. And those moments of fear, the danger…
No matter what this career of hers brought them, this wouldn't ever change. He was ready for the bumps and bruises he'd get in the meantime himself. He was ready for the hurdles and hardships ahead. He thought he was ready for just about anything.
Because this was their life now.
And he wouldn't trade it for the whole universe.
Chapter 50!!!! A freaking milestone!!! Five and a half years later. Crazy.
Read it, though. I think you’ll like it.
Second part of “The Detective and the ManFatale” is up!
The Detective and the Tech Guy Babysit, Part 1
I really fell off the face of the Earth updating The Detective and the Tech Guy here and I apologize for that, friends. But I’m gonna get it all updated for ya now!
If this is the first you’ve heard of DATG, you can visit the DATG Master Post and start from the beginning right here: BOOM
If you’d prefer to read it on fanfiction.net: BOOM.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
Sarah Walker, P.I. saw officers and detectives bustling around the room as soon as the doors to the elevator opened.
She slowly moved out of the elevator and stepped to the side to make way for the woman in the power suit walking a handcuffed perp onto the elevator. The perp whistled at Sarah, but before she could say anything mean back at him, or even make a face in response, the power suit wearing woman shoved at the back of the man's bald head and snapped, "Shut up, Markins."
Nothing else was said as the door shut behind them.
Sarah blinked and let out a low whistle to herself. She thought she could be friends with that detective. She figured she was a detective, as she was in pedestrian clothes and had a badge on her hip.
Phones were ringing off the hook, police detectives had their feet up on their desks, some in cubicles, some out in the open, and she had no idea how to find this Detective John Casey fellow. The way he sounded when she'd spoken to him on the phone had her looking for an older man, maybe. And Chuck's description of him was not helpful.
"Brown short hair, a super grumpy face. Taller than me, but grumpy. And did I mention grumpy? And built like a tank and grumpy."
He'd been offended by the fact that the detective refused to acknowledge him as her boyfriend, even though he'd attempted to just roll his eyes and laugh it off in front of her. She knew Chuck better than she knew anyone, though, and she saw the detective's rudeness had gotten under his skin.
Depending on what kind of a man this Detective Casey was, that might be something she'd bring up. She had to stick up for her man, after all. Granted, she was playing that by ear.
Sarah walked further into the room and straightened her spine a little, pulling her shoulders back, lifting her chin. She was wearing a power suit of her own, or at least…dark, solid jeans and a black blazer over a professional pearl-colored blouse. She had a part to play and she needed this detective guy to not think he could boss her around just because he had a badge and she didn't. She knew his type. With the way he'd talked down to Chuck, a civilian, she absolutely knew his type.
"Excuse me?" she asked a woman sitting at one of the desks, clicking her mouse and staring absent-mindedly at her computer screen. The woman swept her eyes up to meet Sarah's and sat back against her chair. Sarah felt the woman giving her quite the once over.
"May I help you?"
"Yes, I'm looking for Detective John Casey."
"Oh. Wrong floor. We're the Narcotics division. Two floors up is Robbery Homicide. Just ask 'em for the major."
"Major?" Sarah asked.
"Yeah, Major Asshole." The woman cackled, but didn't seem to have anything else to say, so Sarah just murmured a thanks and walked back to the elevator.
She still wasn't sure if the man she was looking for was actually once a major in the military, or if the woman had made it up for the joke's sake.
She shook her head as she pressed the button for what she hoped was the right floor. That didn't matter. What mattered was that Detective Casey asked for some information she might have on Franz Derlick. It was a case she'd worked in San Ysidro a year before she'd ever come to Los Angeles to work the Bartowski case. Derlick's condo in downtown San Diego had been ransacked and he'd been attacked. He'd called Pinkerton Detective Agency after the police department had "underperformed" on his case. Those had been his words. And she remembered the anger in his tone when he'd told them about SDPD's mishandling of his case.
What a detective in the LAPD could want with her now, even after she'd left Pinkerton behind, she had no idea. And what did he want with that case in particular?
Sarah walked into the Robbery Homicide unit, or at least, she thought that was what this was… This floor looked the same as the floor she'd just come from.
This time, she went straight into the cluster of cubicles and desks and asked a man who'd just climbed out of his chair where she could find Detective John Casey.
He gave her a long look, and she let him know she didn't appreciate the way his eyes moved down to her toes and back up to her head again by glaring. Hard. He at least looked a little ashamed as he pointed towards the back corner of the room. "His desk's by the captain's office. Next to that door. I dunno where he is, though."
"Thanks."
He shrugged, and she felt his gaze follow her as she swept past his desk. Whatever…
She saw the name plate that said "Det. Casey" on the desk in the corner as she slowed in front of it, and then she turned on her heel to glance around the room. She supposed she would just wait here, she thought, glancing at her watch. She was right on time. Eleven AM, on the dot, just like they'd agreed over the phone.
And because he wasn't here, because she, herself, was a detective through and through, even if she no longer held the title, Sarah did a thorough investigation of Detective Casey's desk, without even having to move a muscle. There were a few file cases in the corner of his desk, stacked on top of one another, and then papers in no particular order she could figure out spread all over the rest of it. Pens and pencils, markers, a sharpie, all scattered on the desk even though he had a papier-mâché covered pencil holder that looked like a child had made it in school. His child, perhaps? She wasn't sure. There weren't any pictures, not of a significant other, no partner, no children…no friends, even. There was nothing. A google search hadn't given her anything, either.
His computer's screensaver was the usual screensaver of a blue square bouncing around on a black background.
His mousepad was the same one Microsoft used to give away with new computer monitors back in the early nineties.
"You discover anything about me?"
She just barely managed to keep from jumping, and she turned to regard the tall detective standing a few feet behind her with a small cup of coffee in his hand. Even the mug was a black, nondescript mug with yellow letters spelling out "LAPD" on it. God, this guy was a snoozefest. She wondered if anyone in his department even knew anything at all about his private life.
"Just that you're not very organized."
He scowled at her, looking down at his desk, and she knew now this had to be Detective John Casey. He was tall, built like a tank, and very clearly grumpy. "Ain't nothin' wrong with my organization. I know where everything is."
She smirked at him, earning a thoughtful grunt. Then he nodded once and closed the rest of the distance. She turned to face him and took the hand he offered her.
"You're Sarah Walker, then?"
"I'm Sarah Walker, yes. Detective Casey?"
His answer was another grunt as he let go of her hand and walked around to the other side of his desk, setting his coffee down on one of the documents he had strewn about. She held back the urge to cringe. There'd be a ring on that, no doubt. Ugh…
"You want coffee or water or anythin'?"
"Uh, how's your precinct's coffee?" she asked, gesturing to his mug.
He gestured to the chair she stood next to. "Have a seat. And I dunno. This ain't coffee. It's herbal tea."
Chuck was going to laugh so hard when she told him the tall grump who'd insulted him the other day was an herbal tea man. He'd probably wonder aloud if Casey did yoga, too. Or if he had a zen garden. There was nothing wrong with tea, but she couldn't stop the image of this guy wearing a monocle and stirring his tea with a tiny spoon from popping into her mind. She'd give Chuck that one and it would cheer him up significantly.
She made sure not to let her inner smirk get out, instead clearing her throat and crossing one leg over the other, her hands folded in her lap. "No, I'm all right. Thank you for the offer."
With a nod, he scooted his roller chair closer to his desk and took one long sip from his mug, wincing a bit as though it was too hot. "So Miss Walker, I'll get right down to business. You worked the Derlick case three years ago."
"I did."
"You were lead on that case?"
"No, Detective Shaw—Daniel Shaw—was lead on that case. I worked under him."
Casey curled his lip a bit. "I was informed that you were the lead."
"I'm afraid not." Sarah leaned forward a bit, furrowing her brow. "I was second-in-command. Who informed you that I was lead?"
"The director. Langston Graham." Sarah widened her eyes. "That's what he told me in his email, at least. He referred me to you, said you were lead on the Derlick case. Why'd he say that if it wasn't true?" Sarah wasn't sure, and she was a bit taken aback by it, as well. When she didn't say anything, he grumbled out a surly, "Sure as hell don't like the idea of havin' to get into contact with that upstart bag of gas, Shaw." He cursed under his breath.
"I'm sorry?" She scooted forward in her chair. "What did you call him?"
He just shook his head.
"I heard you call Detective Shaw an upstart bag of gas. I just want to make sure I heard properly, that's all." She knew she'd heard properly, and the laugh sat at the bottom of her throat…
"Look, it ain't that I have a problem with Pinkerton. That agency does good work, even if it isn't always…" He grunted instead of finishing his sentence, perhaps deciding not to go there. "But that guy and his shit-eating grin. Hate havin' to pass cases to him. Had to do it in Brooklyn, had to do it in Detroit, and I sure as shit don't much like the idea of havin' to talk to him again here in L.A."
Sarah held her hands up. "Listen, Detective Casey, I had to work with that asshole for too many years. I had to do what he told me whenever he was given lead on cases I was assigned to. You have no idea just how bad he is. Call him whatever the hell you want. I'll pop popcorn, sit back, and listen with pure joy in my heart. The worse the names, the better."
Detective Casey narrowed his eyes at her for a moment, then smirked a little. "You say you were second-in-command on Derlick's case?"
"I was."
"That's good enough for me. And I'm starting to think maybe Graham was purposely trying to put a damper on my case, the bastard, sending me to someone who doesn't even work for him, pretending like I was gonna get something off you." He scowled.
She huffed and shook her head. "Listen, Detective. I don't want you to think I can offer you anything but whatever still sits in my memory. I have no access to the case files. I left Pinkerton well over a year ago, and not on the best terms. I highly doubt I can give you anything you need."
The man grunted, then shrugged. "Graham told me you weren't with Pinkerton anymore. I left it at that. Because I don't need files. There was one thing you left off the reports, however, someone's name. And by my understanding, it was purposeful. I don't need to know the circumstances there, I really don't." He shook his head. "But I need to know that name. If you can remember. The case concluded in San Ysidro, didn't it?"
"It did."
"And you found that Derlick's cousin had set up the robbery and the attack. Funny business attached to their grandmother's will."
She nodded. "Yes, that was the gist of it."
"Someone was struck off of that will before Old Lady Derlick died. They weren't involved in the robbery or the attack, so they didn't end up in the case files…and trust me, I get that. But Graham was cagey about it, and I need you not to be."
"Why?" she asked, leaning an elbow on his desk and propping her chin on her fist.
"I think that person has landed in Los Angeles and is involved in one of my cases. I can't go into detail, but I need that name."
"Does Graham know you're asking me about this?"
"Nope. He doesn't need to."
"There's a good chance I get into some trouble if he finds out I've given away information on a case without Pinkerton approval."
"Listen, lady…" He cleared his throat at the severe look she gave him. "Sorry. Miss Walker. You don't owe 'em anything. You don't work for 'em anymore. Somebody's been murdered. She had her whole future ahead of 'er. And by giving me that name, you could be helping me to find out who murdered her."
"You think this person is the murderer?" she asked, raising an eyebrow.
"Nah. But they can help us. They used to be closely aligned with Derlick then up and disappeared. If the name you give me matches what I think it'll be, it gives me enough reason to keep investigating them. Otherwise…" He huffed in frustration, looking reluctant to admit it, but doing it anyway. "Otherwise, I'm up shit creek. Leads dried up."
Sarah looked at him for a long moment. She was good at reading people. This was a good cop, a good detective. She could tell that, in spite of the surly exterior, the matter of fact way he talked to her about the case, he was pissed that this woman's life was cut short, and he was determined to find the culprit and bring them to justice. He looked like he had a lot of pride, a lot of machismo even. But he cared about this. She imagined he cared about all of his cases.
So she reached down and grabbed her briefcase, lifting it up and setting it on the only corner of his desk that wasn't covered in crap.
He just blinked and watched in confusion as she unzipped the briefcase and pulled her laptop out, moving the bag back onto the floor and setting her laptop on the desk, opening it.
"What are you doing?" he finally asked.
She held up a finger for him to wait, clicking around through her files and documents on her laptop. Finally, she shifted her blue eyes to his, meeting them steadily. "Graham doesn't know you got any of this from me…" He didn't respond, just narrowing his eyes a little. "Right?"
The corner of his mouth tilted up and he nodded. "Mum's the word. So to speak."
"Good. I kept copies of some of the Pinkerton files on my laptop…by accident, honestly. I left the company so fast, and they were glad enough to get rid of me, that they didn't even think to check on what I did and didn't take. The agency is less strict about what does and doesn't leave the agency, since most of what we did was on site, wherever the case was, all over the world. So a lot of what I had on my official Pinkerton computer also ended up on my laptop." She sent him a bit of a smug look. "Woops."
He chuckled. "Well, that's out of my jurisdiction. Nothin' I can do about that."
Sarah beamed and turned the laptop to face him. "Miriam Bethke," she said, quietly, scooting her laptop closer to him, then standing up and leaning over the desk to look at the screen with him. "And here's all of her information. I kept tabs because it didn't sit well with me that we were essentially ordered to strike her name from everything, along with a few of the other people who were involved with the Derlicks. If you want this file, take it."
But the detective already had a flash drive in his hand and was inserting it into her laptop. "I'll tell you what," he said, moving the entire Bethke file onto his flash drive. "Graham isn't even gonna know I was able to find you at all."
"That sounds good to me," she chirped, watching as Detective Casey removed the flash drive from her laptop and shut it, handing it back to her. She took it with a smile. "Was there anything else you needed, Detective?"
"No, you were more than helpful, Miss Walker. Uh…ahem…P.I." Then he stopped and gave her a suspicious look. "Hold on a tick. You got a license for what you're doin', don't ya? You need a license to be a private dick here."
Sarah just smirked and went into the inner pocket of her blazer, flashing her credentials at him. Then she took a business card out and slid it across his desk towards him…oh so slowly. "If you ever need my assistance again, Detective Casey, I do good work. And I do it very quietly. I'm not above working with law enforcement, either."
He let out an amused grunt, then picked up her card, glancing at it. "Well. If I need a sparkplug P.I. I'll let ya know, but don't hold your breath, Miss Walker."
"My schedule's full, so trust me. I won't. Have a lovely weekend, Detective."
She slid her laptop into her briefcase, zipped it up, and walked away. She thought she heard a quiet, "Heh heh" behind her, and she wasn't sure if it was respect or mockery. She decided on respect and pressed the button to call the elevator.
It wasn't until she slid into her car in the parking lot and started the engine that she murmured a satisfied, "And fuck you, too, Pinkerton."
XOXOXOXOXOXOXO
As he looked down at the paperwork Adisa left for him to read and sign, document after document after document, with so many damn words and provisos and blah blah blah blah… Chuck Bartowski thought he might legitimately go cross-eyed.
And not for the first time, he was incredibly grateful he had an assistant he could trust to wade through the bureaucracy and paperwork so that Chuck could focus on the gears and pipes of the business, as his father said. The gears and pipes were his wheelhouse.
But he was tired and it was a Friday and he just wanted to get out of here.
Suddenly the door to Adisa's front office opened. He welcomed whoever it was with opened arms, looking for any excuse to get his eyes the hell off of these repetitive words, and as he looked up, the sentiment increased tenfold.
Sarah was peeking her head around the door, a small smile on her face. She frowned immediately then as she saw him, and she walked all the way inside, taking a moment to look out and down the hallway once more, obviously confused to find him there instead of his assistant, before she shut the door behind her.
"You are definitely not Adisa Obafemi," she said. "But you're sitting at his desk."
"I'm a handsomer alternative, right? That's what you're hinting at, isn't it?" he teased.
She made a doubtful sound. "I dunno. I think Adisa is pretty handsome." He pouted a little and she bit back a smirk. "Don't worry, he's a little too young for me and isn't really my type."
"Oh? What is your type?" He expected some long-winded, sweet, teasing description of him.
"A guy who is…" She pursed her lips thoughtfully. "Rich." He just barely held in a bark of laughter. "Like, super rich."
"Is that a hint that I should be paying Adisa better?"
This time she laughed, and he felt like that was a win in this little flirtatious banter battle she'd started with him. "Why are you sitting at his desk? Really."
"Believe it or not, I bought him a chair that's way more comfortable than mine. Quite by accident." He gave her a teasing, closed-mouth smile.
"You sit at his desk instead of your own often?"
"It's the chair; I'm tellin' ya." He laughed, then, gesturing at the paperwork. "He was breaking his back getting this paperwork all sorted for me today, giving it some semblance of order so that I can at least somewhat understand what it is that I'm signing off on—bureaucratic bullshit, basically—so I let him go home for the weekend at lunch. You just missed him."
"Ah. Shame. I do miss him."
"Well, you two exchanged numbers so that you can plot and plan things behind my back, so feel free to text him about how much you miss him." He grinned, his tongue between his teeth, and she crossed the room to ruffle his hair. "He-Hey! Careful with the curls! Geez!" He tried to smooth them down but knew it was no use.
She giggled and shook her head. "Yeah, well…One of these days we're gonna plot you right out of this building and onto a vacation."
"I'm fine with that, as long as said vacation is with my favorite detective."
"Ohhhh, Chuck. Sweetie. I'm sorry to inform you Jessica Fletcher will not be available anytime soon."
Chuck burst into laughter and grabbed his girlfriend by her hand, pulling the giggling woman down to plop onto his lap. She gasped, rounding his neck with an arm quickly. Her briefcase in her other hand knocked him in the knee and he winced. Yep, that was her laptop. Definitely.
"The truth comes out. I'm into wily old ladies."
"I do like tea, and every so often I catch myself watching PBS. Does that count?"
"Yes."
They chuckled and he dove in to peck her on the lips, dropping a kiss just above the collar of her blazer.
"Chuck, we shouldn't do this in Adisa's chair. It's messed up." She set her briefcase down to lean against the desk and soon had both arms around him.
He gave her a put-upon sigh. "You're right. But since you're already here and so comfy, look at this crap I have to read through and sign," he said, reaching around her and picking up the page at the top.
Sarah made an intrigued face and plucked it from his hand, perusing the page. "Okay, yeah. This looks like a lot of legal bullshit that I honestly cannot understand. It's gibberish."
"Right? Good thing I've got a guy with a head that can make sense of this gibberish. He started law school, but quit due to money and now I'm reaping the benefits."
"You are. But also, I'd feel safer if Adisa were a lawyer."
"Me, too. That's why I told him I'd pay for him to finish his law degree, anywhere he wanted. But he hasn't taken me up on it yet." She gave him one of those soft looks of hers that let him know he'd done something right. It warmed him inside and out. "Hey…by the time I'm done with these, I might be cross-eyed. Think you'll still wanna date me if that's the case?" He crossed his eyes at her and earned a light slap on his shoulder.
"You idiot. You could…have some mobster throw acid on your face like that Two-Face guy in your comics and I still wouldn't go anywhere."
Chuck bit his bottom lip, feeling a bit of a tingle between his legs at that. It didn't help that she was currently sitting on his lap, her backside pressing down acutely against that specific area. He had to take a deep breath, and he had a sneaking suspicious Sarah was well aware of what he was going through. "Well. Hopefully I wouldn't go insane the way Dent does and terrorize Los Angeles."
She giggled. "I'll make sure of it. Anyway, if you ever tried that, I'd go full Bat-Detective. Like Batman but…a woman. Is there a Batgirl or something?"
He shivered, sliding his arms around her and hugging her a little closer. "There's a Batgirl and a Batwoman. Actually."
His imagination was running wild with the possibilities and she would probably think he was legitimately crazy if she had any inclination of just how turned on he was in that moment.
"Are you currently picturing me in a catsuit, Chuck Bartowski?" she practically purred.
Chuck winced and tilted his head. "Particularly a purple sparkly one with a yellow bat-wing cape," he said, his voice a little tight.
"You're way too easy," she breathed, shaking her head in awe.
She barely got the last word out, however, before he covered her mouth with his. He was crazy. He was a crazy big ol' nerd and he was dating the hottest woman on the planet who knew he was a crazy big ol' nerd and egged his appetite on purposefully. She was everything.
As they made out, hands grabbing, fists twisting in jackets and hair, Sarah let out a breathy whimper that honestly made Chuck feel like he might just go straight into cardiac arrest if he didn't pull away, put some distance between them.
He didn't pull away.
He pulled her even closer, if that was at all possible.
But then she did pull away, putting a hand on his chest, taking a deep breath. Her lips were a bit red, swollen, and he couldn't help the immature, macho voice in his head that said, proudly, I did that.
"Whoa, there. Down, nerd." She still beamed though, biting her lip. And then she climbed off of his lap and did put distance between them, backing into Adisa's desk and perching on the edge, tucking a strand of hair that escaped during their tussle back behind her ear. "You know, it's kind of satisfying knowing I've still got it."
God, he loved the cocky look on her face, that arched eyebrow and the smirk, the slight wrinkle of her nose.
"Oh, trust me. You've still got it. And then some."
She bit her lip, looking very pleased. "Yeah, well…anytime I start to think maybe I'm losing my touch, you don't let that thought get very far."
"I have no intention of starting today."
Chuck pushed up out of Adisa's chair so hard, it rolled back into the wall. He distantly heard the thump of it hitting, but didn't care about the potential dent in the wall as he pressed himself against her and kissed her again…Hard, this time.
He rounded her torso with his arms and gave her a bit of a bump with his hips so that she sat fully on top of the desk, on the documents Chuck had been toiling over not ten minutes earlier. He didn't give a rat's ass about them now as he leaned her back at an angle and dragged his lips down her jawbone. She rounded his waist with her legs and tucked her hands under his suit jacket, spreading her fingers over his button up at his lower back and then squeezing his muscles there.
And then she pulled one hand away and he felt a tug on his tie.
He was dying in thousands of different ways and he needed her so badly he was fit to burst.
Chuck managed to get the top of her blouse undone as he shifted and kissed her on the lips again, and when his hand dove in to tuck under the cup of her bra and squeeze her breast, she whimpered loudly.
That was the last straw. He pulled out of her bra and tucked both hands underneath her backside, hoisting her up into his arms so that he could carry her into his office where he could lock the door and they could finish what they'd started. Not that this would be the first time.
But as she giggled lustily and clung to him, he heard the jarring ring of his phone on Adisa's desk where he'd set it so that he could answer it if anyone called or texted—anything to get out of that damn paperwork.
His body tensed, and he felt Sarah tense similarly in his embrace. "Why didn't I put the fucking thing on silent?" he asked, breathless.
"Because you wanted someone to interrupt you because you hate reading documents," she panted back, grinning, pecking his lips a few times for good measure.
"I'm gonna…" He kissed her back. "I'm gonna just ignore it, though."
"Mmm," she hummed into his kiss, pulling back and nuzzling his nose. "Maybe it's important."
Chuck groaned.
"But you're the most important."
Sarah giggled. "Sweet. But it's been less than twenty-four hours since we had sex. I think you can take this phone call."
He groaned again and let her slip down, back to her feet, and then he dropped his arms to his sides and let his head slump forward onto her shoulder, making her chuckle.
"Chuck, answer the phone."
The tech guy gave her a pitiful, desperate look, then turned the same look to his phone, still ringing. "I'm still of the mind to go into the office with the door that locks and finish what we started. Can we just do that instead?"
"Or you answer the phone now and we finish what we started once you know what the person on the other side of the phone wants from you."
"Counterpoint: I lock myself in that office with you because I already know exactly what you want from me." He gave her a slow, sizzling kiss, then planted another one right below her ear, feeling that delicious shiver he'd anticipated go through her body. The air was still electric between them.
"As hot as that just was…" Then she stopped, turning to look at the phone. "Huh. Seems the phone stopped ringing."
He saw the sparkle in her eye and dove in to kiss her again, starting to pull her to his personal office as she laughed against his lips, pushing at his suit jacket to try to get it off of him…
The phone rang again.
"God damn it!" he yelled, groaning and letting his head fall back to blink a few times at the ceiling in abject misery.
Sarah just laughed and went to the phone. "It's Ellie. And the first one was her, too."
Chuck sighed and reached out for it. She put it in his hand and he answered, "Hey, sis. What's up?"
"Chuck, everything okay? I didn't interrupt a meeting or anything?"
Oh, she interrupted all right. She interrupted. He clenched his jaw. "No, no. Not at all. I had the sound to my phone off and missed your first call."
He winced at Sarah as she snorted quietly, rolling her eyes. Liar, the look she gave him seemed to say.
So he lied.
Sue him.
"Oh, okay. Well, I was just calling because I sort of have a big favor to ask."
Chuck didn't think twice as he said, "Anything. What do ya need?" Then he gasped. "Do I get to hang out with Claaaaaraaaa?"
Ellie giggled. "Actually, that was my question. Now that we're back in L.A., we have all of Devon's football buddies from UCLA asking us to go to cook-outs and reunions and…Well, with Clara being born, we've been so focused on her and shifts at the hospital…"
"So you and Devon want to go spend some time out of the apartment, away from the hospital, away from dirty diapers and feeding and, and, and, am I right?"
"Yes." There was a long pause. "Does that make me a terrible mom? Seriously. I'm asking seriously."
He chuckled and leaned against the doorjamb that led into his office. "Ellie, you're a mom, yes, but you're also human. Having a baby is hard-ass work. You've barely left your place except when you made the move from San Francisco back home, and through all of that moving, you had a newborn, late night feedings, cry-fits…You want a day with just your husband, not having to worry about any of that, hanging out with friends? I think you more than deserve to feel that way."
He smiled at Sarah and she smiled back.
"So that's a yes to babysitting Clara tomorrow? It'll probably only be a few hours, we'll be back around dinner."
"El, of course. Are you sure you want me to do it and not the parents?" Then he realized how that sounded and rushed out, "Not that I don't want to! I want to! If I could just hold her little pudgy body all day long, I totally would! I love her so much!"
His sister barked out a laugh. "Jesus, Chuck. I get it. You love your niece. You don't have to persuade me." She paused. "Thank you. This is so needed and you're the best brother ever."
"You didn't answer about Mom and Dad."
"…I didn't, did I?"
He chuckled. "Okay, I get it. What time do you want me at your place?"
"Ten? Is that too early?"
"Nope."
"God, I love you, Chuck. I owe you so bad."
"You owe me nothing at all." It was then that he realized Sarah was pointing to herself and gesturing for him to notice her. He furrowed his brow and saw her mouth, 'Can I come?' He felt that gooey warmth inside of him again. Like he always did when he remembered how attached to his niece Sarah was. "Oh, um, do you mind if Sarah is there?"
"Uh. I'd prefer it," came Ellie's flat voice.
"Hey!" He laughed at that, even know he knew she was teasing. She knew he was more than capable of taking care of her daughter. He'd done it a few times before, with and without Sarah's support.
"Doesn't she have a case right now, though?"
"Yeah, but…it's complicated. Kind of a long one. Not time sensitive."
Sarah sent him a look that said, What are you talking about? But he ignored it.
"Oh. Well, great! See you tomorrow? Devon is mouthing for me to tell you you're awesome."
"Tell him he's awesome!"
"I'm not going to start that again. Last time you two kept me on the phone with competing 'you're awesome' messages for an extra three minutes." She laughed. "See you tomorrow."
"Sounds good. Love ya, sis."
"Love you, too."
When he hung up, Sarah pursed her lips. "Are we babysitting tomorrow? I kinda put together the context from what you were saying."
"Oh, we're babysitting. You free from ten 'til…I dunno, whenever they're done?"
"Um, anytime I get to hang out with that freaking cute little baby, I'm free."
"Good." Something occurred to him then and he tilted his head, furrowing his brow at her. "Hey, we got so caught up in…us…ahem…Didn't you have that meeting with the LAPD Grump today?"
She sniffed in amusement. "Yeah. I did."
"Isn't he so mean? Was he mean to you, too?"
"He wasn't mean to me, no," she said with a short laugh. "He's definitely blunt, no-nonsense, macho, and has an ego."
"Right? God."
"But I kinda like 'im." She crossed her arms and looked thoughtful, still amused, he could tell.
"Huh?"
"I might be a little biased. He's come into contact with Daniel Shaw a few times over the years, it sounds like, and he said some really insulting things about him." The snicker that came out of her was almost evil and he enjoyed it a little too much, perhaps.
"Okay, well…Even though he was a total Rudy McRuderson to me the other day, if he has the sense to ask you for help and hate Daniel Shaw, he can't be all bad."
She made a little click sound with her tongue and teeth. "See, this is why I love you so much. You're the least judgmental guy I know." She paused. "Except with Daniel Shaw, who you've never met personally, but you still totally hate his guts and I love it."
"I don't usually hit people, as a rule, but I'd punch the shit out of that fucker in a heartbeat if I ever saw him."
"I probably shouldn't be as turned on by that as I am."
"It's residual turn-on-edness from earlier when we nearly boinked in my office. It's cool, I get it, me too." He sent her a cheesy grin.
"It's a testament to the power of your hotness that I'm not even a little turned off by the fact that you just described our love-making as 'boinking'."
He laughed. "I'm a walking talking dictionary, baby." He smoldered to underscore it. Then he sobered up a little. "Did you give Detective Grumpy Guy what he needed?"
"Yep. Might be a connection I can work in the future, too. You know, for cases and the like."
"That's exciting."
"Mhm. Can we please go into your office now? Honestly, this is getting ridiculous."
"Yyyyep."
They hurried inside, shutting and locking the door behind them.
It took a while for them to emerge again, the door opening slowly, Sarah backing out first, her hands still on the back of Chuck's neck, pulling him along with her as they kissed.
Chuck didn't just feel satisfied. He knew he looked it. And he wasn't entirely sure if he got his clothes back on in the right way. He felt tousled, and his hair…God, it was probably a mess.
Sarah's blouse was tucked in on one side and not the other, her bun was falling out over her shoulders, and God, she just looked like the cat who got the cream as she expertly slid her hands down and blindly tied his tie again, leaning in to kiss him some more.
Right when she leaned back to break the kiss, a goofy, teasing growl on the end of his tongue, the door to the outer office swept open and Stephen J. Bartowski stepped inside.
"Oh, good! Oh! Oh." He paused. "Well."
Chuck stepped back from Sarah, but her fist was still gripped tight around his tie and he made a soft choking sound, staggering forward, into her. She let go and smoothed her hands down her front. "Mr. Bartowski," she said, expertly flipping her hair back into its bun… and he had to give her credit, she sounded very professional. Considering how unprofessional she'd sounded about fifteen minutes earlier when she had him pinned to his desk chair.
His dad smirked and shut the door behind him, crossing his arms then reaching up to scratch the edge of one eyebrow, ducking his head and chuckling. "Don't worry, you two. You aren't in any trouble."
"Oh, God," Chuck breathed. He had a terrible feeling about this.
"Oh…Oh, no. We didn't…we were…" Sarah then stopped herself and looked down at how disheveled she looked, and she not-so-subtly stretched a foot out to scoot one of her pumps across the floor, behind Adisa's desk, out of his dad's view. It was comical. It was adorable. And if he wasn't mortified, he'd giggle at her for it.
"Stop it. I know exactly what this is. Listen, there's no shame. Truthfully, uh… Well, Chuck…Back when we were younger, your mother and I—"
"NOPE."
"Oh, my God," he heard Sarah murmur under her breath.
"Well, I'm just saying. When you're in love, it happens in the weirdest—"
"NOOO."
"—places."
"Get me out of here," Chuck whimpered.
"Why do you think my office has a lock on it? I put a lock on yours, too, I-I think. I mean not with this in mind, of course, but—"
"My insides are dying. I'm having a stroke."
Sarah elbowed him a little.
"Anyway!" his dad said.
"Thank God."
"—I wanted you to make sure to take it easy on those documents Adisa prepped for ya. Take 'em home. Take the weekend to get them signed, dated, and we'll send them to our lawyers on Monday. Go home early. Everyone is clearing out, so I think it'd be okay for the bosses to do the same, huh? Take that, uh, long weekend." He rubbed his hands together excitedly.
"Yep."
"Chuck. Kiddo. C'mon. Don't be like that," his dad chuckled. "You're not in middle school anymore." He sent a wink at Sarah and Chuck knew for a fact that he was enjoying the hell out of this.
"Oookay," Chuck drawled. "Bye, Dad. Have a good weekend, Dad."
"All right, all right." Stephen chuckled. "Sarah, nice to see you. Don't be a stranger." Then he stopped and made a face. "I didn't mean it like—That wasn't—"
"Nope. NOPE." Chuck put his hands on either side of his head, applying pressure. Maybe he could squeeze hard enough that his brain forgot this whole conversation happened.
"You get what I mean," his dad said.
"I, um…do," Sarah said, quietly, her face significantly more pained than he'd seen it in a while.
His dad just laughed, shaking his head and ducking out of the office. "Don't do anything I wouldn't do, kids!" they heard, right before the door shut.
There was silence for a few moments.
"Well, at least that happened after we already did…the sex."
Chuck gave her an anguished look. "Oh, God," he whimpered, dropping his chin to his chest. "Oh my God, this ruined my whole life."
She chuckled and wrapped her hands around his arm. "Come on, I'll help you pack up to go home."
"I never knew about the lock," he whimpered again. "The lock…"
Her giggle was at least some comfort as she pulled him back into his office to gather his things.
XOXOXOXOXOXO
Ellie Bartowski Woodcomb was stressed.
He could see it the moment she answered her door.
"Hi," she rushed out. "Um, thanks again. I…I'm running a little bit late."
She left the door wide open and just walked away from it altogether as Chuck stepped inside of the large, spacious apartment she and Awesome had moved into a few weeks ago, new parents, with new jobs at a new hospital. Her stress levels had been concerning, to the point where Awesome had taken Chuck aside not knowing what to do about it. And Devon Woodcomb was not typically the guy who didn't know what to do, where Ellie was concerned especially.
Chuck could see that today was no different. She was frazzled, rushing over to pick Clara up and rock her as she screamed and cried.
"No, baby. I know. I know you're upset," she said. "I hear you."
"Oh nooo. What's wrong with my best friend in the whole wide world?" Chuck asked, shutting the door behind him and hurrying over to his sister's side.
"Don't let Morgan hear you say that."
"Are you kidding me? He'd say the same thing about her. He's so in love with this kid, he's stopped bothering you about maybe ditching the 'bag of muscles' and dating him."
"Yet another reason to adore my little Clara. Oh, sweetheart, please, please stop crying. It's making it very hard for mommy to leave and have fun," she said pitifully. "Please."
"Clara, what happened? Tell your favorite uncle."
"Not sleeping too well at night."
Chuck blinked at the baby. "Clara, your voice has suddenly gotten really deep and manly."
Devon laughed and came up behind him, giving his brother-in-law a one armed hug from behind, squeezing him and kissing the side of his face. Chuck made a face at Ellie and got a shrug.
"Good one, bro. And thanks for doin' this. Babe, we really gotta get outta here if we're gonna get there even, like, fifteen minutes late."
Chuck sniffed in amusement. Devon was into kisses with his hugs now. He assumed Clara's entrance into this world had a lot to do with it. He kissed that little girl so much it had overflowed into his greetings with everyone else. Even Mary Bartowski had been getting head kisses, much to her chagrin. Chuck just hoped Devon was able to keep from doing it to his patients. Because that'd be grounds for a lawsuit…
"We're new parents, they'll understand," Ellie said, clutching her daughter tightly and looking down into the anguished but still beautiful face. "C'mon, Clara, Uncle Chuck is here. Your favorite guy."
"Hey!" Devon exclaimed from across the room as he shrugged his jacket on.
"Your second favorite guy. Woops." She made a face at Clara, like they were sharing an inside joke.
"All right, El. Give me the little Grumpy Gussina and I'll take care of her."
Ellie made a whining sound, holding Clara even tighter to her. "I don't want to go."
And there it was.
Chuck and Devon exchanged a look.
"Don't do that. Don't do the man-look across the room at each other. I'm the one who carried her for nine months. I'm the one who pushed her out of my cervix…"
"Wow, okay," Devon muttered.
"…so don't you dare look at each other with that 'Ellie's crazy' look. I'm perfectly fine. I just miss my daughter if I'm away from her. That's all. It's difficult to leave."
"I'm gonna miss her, too," Devon said, sneaking in close and wrapping his arms around both of his women. "But we have plans today. And I gotta be honest with you, wife o' mine, it's getting to the point where I might go insane if we don't separate ourselves from this apartment and/or that hospital. Seriously, baby mama, I'm gonna snap. We need this."
She huffed, rolling her eyes. And then she bounced Clara a little in her arms, rocking her. "You're right. I know you're right. And we're going. We're going. It's just…hard."
"Hey, you can call or text anytime, El. I've got my phone."
"Yeah, I can, can't I?"
"See?" Devon said, shrugging and grinning in that Captain Awesome way. "Bro, seriously. You're so awesome. This means a lot." He mouthed, 'We are going crazy', at Chuck where Ellie couldn't see him, still cooing at her daughter, trying to calm the fussy baby down.
Chuck widened his eyes at him and nodded.
"Here, give 'er to me, El. Get ready to go."
"Babe, seriously. Give our daughter to her uncle. We need to get outta here. Traffic might be bad."
"Traffic's always bad. We live in L.A."
"She has a point," Chuck said. "Hand over Her Highness the Fusspot. Uncle Chuck will get her to stop crying. Trust the nerd." He made grabby hands.
"Well…" Then Ellie's eyes got big as she took a step back. "Hey, where's Sarah? We can't leave without Sarah being here, Devon. I have to talk to her. She needs to be here before we leave."
Devon groaned.
Ellie had found another way to procrastinate.
"She's working on something for her case this morning, but she is meeting me here. She should be here soon, though, and you can talk to her when you get ba—" Chuck started, but then there was a staccato knock on the door and Devon looked mightily pleased. "Oh, there she is."
Captain Awesome swept the door open. "Hey, look who's here! It's Sarah! Let's go, Ellie!"
"Damn it, Sarah! Great timing, Sarah!" Ellie groused.
Sarah just stood in the hallway, wide-eyed, her gaze flitting back and forth between the Awesomes.
"Uh…hi?" She muttered, "What is happening?" at Chuck as he took pity on her and pulled her into the apartment, shutting the door behind her.
"Good morning," he chirped, kissing her cheek. "Ellie's having a really hard time letting go this morning and she thought she could use you not being here yet to put off leaving Clara. But you're ever the prompt one, so…no cigar."
"Sarah, I'm sorry." Ellie pushed in between them, having finally relinquished Clara to her husband who was now taking a stab at calming their daughter down. She hugged the younger woman with a hard squeeze. "I'm a little, uh, tightly wound."
"A little?"
Devon winced, perhaps realizing he should've kept his mouth shut there, and he mouthed, 'Sorry', when his wife glared at him.
"It's okay, Ellie. It's the new mom thing. Separation anxiety. Or…whatever. I have no knowledge whatsoever of new mom psychology."
"Oh? Well, I read up on it to prepare for having Clara and it helped me not at all, so…" Ellie shrugged and laughed, a bit forced, if Chuck was any judge.
Chuck stepped away from the women then and reached out for his niece. "Here, Captain Awesome, let me see her."
The blonde willingly passed the crying baby over to her uncle and Chuck cradled her carefully, fixing her yellow ducky blanket so that she was wrapped up even tighter. "Hey, little yellow burrito. Look at my doofy face."
He pulled a face and Clara stopped crying immediately, blinking up at him.
"What. In. The. Hell?" Awesome murmured.
"It's not adoration, trust me. She's just confused," Chuck said, making another face.
Clara blinked again.
"Aren't you a little confused girl? Yes, you are," he said, making his voice higher. "I just confused the crap outta you, huh?" This time after she blinked, she let out a little bubbly giggle. "How are you this cute?" he asked through gritted teeth. "I just wanna bite your cheeks. Gah!"
"I get the urge, bro, but don't do it. I tried to do it last night and she definitely didn't like it."
"You tried to bite our daughter?" Ellie asked.
"Babe. Her cheeks," he responded, like that answered everything.
Sarah sidled up next to Chuck, then, wrapping an arm around him and letting Clara latch onto the finger of her other hand. "Your hand is so little, I can't even stand it."
"Isn't she the cutest little? And yes, I did just make little into a noun. She's a little now."
"See, El? Clara's in good hands. The best hands. Let's go. We're gonna be really late."
"You're new parents. I'm sure they'll understand," Sarah said distractedly, beaming down at Clara.
Ellie marched up to Sarah and wrapped her arms around her, squeezing her tightly. "That's exactly what I said. I love you, Sarah."
"I love you, too," the blonde said, giggling.
"Chuck, give your niece to her au—" His sister just barely caught herself. "Honorary auntie." It was a good catch, but everyone knew what she'd just almost said, and the implications of it. …The permanence of it.
Thanks a lot, Ellie.
Chuck tried to ignore the awkward look on Sarah's face as she took Clara from him. "Don't get too comfy there, Sarah, because I'm taking her right back after I get my orders."
"Nuh uh!" she shot back. "Pry her from my cold dead arms."
Ellie giggled and dragged Chuck to the fridge. "Her bottles are in here. There's enough for today and tomorrow. Just make sure it's warm but not too warm, okay? Don't burn my firstborn's mouth."
"El, I'm not going to burn my niece."
"Well, you don't know unless you test it first. That's all I'm saying. Put it on your hand first, right here between—"
"Ellie, I've babysat numerous times. I've got all this down."
"Fine! But make sure she naps. I know how much you want to just play with her and make faces, but she needs to sleep, too."
"Okay," he chuckled, shutting the fridge and grabbing her shoulders, forcing her towards the door. "Go have fun."
"Her diapers are—"
"I know where her diapers are."
"Yeah, but—"
"Ellie." Sarah was there, then, passing Clara off to Chuck again. She'd managed to get Clara to not just stop crying and fussing, but the baby's eyes were even drooping a little. How had she done this? Was she magic? He wouldn't put it past Sarah Walker, P.I. to also be magic on top of everything else.
She took Ellie by her shoulders and looked her in the eye. "You've been working so hard. You had to move really soon after having a baby. You're dealing with that still, weeks later, on top of having a two month old baby, on top of taking shifts at the hospital. You need today, Ellie. Awes—Er, Devon. Devon needs today."
Good catch, Sarah…
"We really need today," Devon agreed, nodding emphatically.
"All you have to worry about for the rest of the day is enjoying yourself, which isn't a worry at all, is it?"
"No," Ellie agreed, her shoulders slumping.
"You don't have to change diapers. You don't have to feed Clara. You don't have to sprint around the house making sure everything is where it's supposed to go. You don't have to be at the hospital. You don't have to leave the house with the huge mommy bag you're always carrying around or worry about the carseat. You don't have to deal with any of that. You get to just hang out with people you like, eat food, drink whatever the fuck you wanna drink. Shit, sorry," she winced, glancing over at Clara who was alert again. Damn it.
"Oh." Ellie snorted. "Don't worry. She has no idea. Watch this." She moved her face close to Clara's and said in a happy high-pitched voice, "Shit fuck fuck shit fuck."
Clara giggled.
Ellie straightened and shrugged.
Sarah cracked up and Chuck just shook his head. "I'm just appalled at you, Ellie," he said. He wasn't appalled in the slightest, and he chuckled, still shaking his head.
"I swear, I'm about to throw you over my shoulder and carry you out to the car. We need to go," Awesome said, already at the door.
"Ugh, fine." She rolled her eyes and leaned down to kiss Clara on the forehead. "Be good for Chuck and Sarah, okay? Be the best girl."
Clara gurgled in response.
"I know, I know I don't have to say it but I do it for appearances anyway. Get used to it." She poked her daughter's belly button to make her laugh. She must've noticed the way everyone was looking at her. "I speak my daughter's language. Don't any of you judge me."
It took another five minutes but Ellie finally ended up being forcibly dragged out of the apartment by her husband, leaving Chuck and Sarah alone with the baby.
Sarah just laughed and shook her head. "Wow."
"Yeeeeeah, Ellie's a bit much but I can't blame her. She's been with Clara nonstop since she gave birth to her, with only a few hours here and there that she's spent away for short shifts at the hospital in the last week since she started at Westside. It's a new mom thing I think."
"Oh, no. I don't blame her, either. But also give me that baby right now."
He chuckled and shook his head. "Nah. Nope. You gave her to me and she's mine now."
"That's total bullshit, Chuck. I gave her to you so that I could stop your sister from having a mental breakdown about leaving for their barbecue."
Chuck groaned. She was right. She'd done it for his sister. "You're just lucky I love you and that I think it's insanely precious that you like my niece this much."
He went and sat on the couch with Clara, Sarah following to squish in right next to him, and then he handed her off to his girlfriend's secure embrace.
"I straight-up love her, I think, full disclosure," Sarah said, cradling Clara close. She kicked her pumps off, then, and put her feet up on the coffee table, curling her toes that made little popping sounds, and melting back into the cushions. "Mmmmmm, it's so good to be sitting down."
"Rough morning?"
"Not rough, per se, just a lot of running in circles and it ended up amounting to nothing."
"Burgess send you on a wild goose chase, then?" he asked, snuggling in next to her and reaching down to fix the cowlick in his niece's darkening hair. He frowned. "Hey, is it just me, or was her hair a lot blonder when she was first born? Is it getting darker?"
"Um…maybe?"
"Maybe it's the lighting. Anyway, you were saying…?"
She giggled and shrugged a bit, leaning some of her weight against his chest. "I think Burgess is trying to do some detecting of his own and his so-called tips he keeps sending me to explore are just…tripping me up."
"Can you sit him down and talk to him about it?"
"I don't really know how to do that without offending the guy who's signing his name to my paycheck."
"Sarah, come on. He's conflicting with your investigation. He hired you to solve this. He needs to let you do your job. He needs to back off and give you the time and space to uncover the truth in your own way. Which, in my humble opinion, is the right way. You know what you're doing." He lifted his arm and wrapped it around her, tugging her close. And then he reached down to let Clara wrap her tiny pudgy fist around his pinky.
"Yeah. You're right. I just have to tell him. I don't want him to fire me. That's all."
"Did I fire you when you tanned my hide?"
She sniffed in amusement. "Chuck, you're not exactly like most people. You readily admit when you make mistakes, when you're wrong. And you're pretty good at taking criticism. And from women. That's not exactly something a lot of men are good at."
He shrugged. "Maybe Clive Burgess will surprise you. Listen. Worst comes to worst, if it offends him, just apologize and figure out a way to do what helps the case. Ignore his bad tips unless you actually think it might be helpful. It sucks, but I think you can manage the balance…You know, doing all of that without him realizing he's being ignored."
"So…play him like a fiddle, you're saying."
"Yeah. I guess so."
"That's actually stellar advice, Chuck. Thank you." She craned her neck and pursed her lips so that he could lean down and kiss her.
That was when Clara began to get fussy again. Her face got all wrinkled and red, her little hands balled up into fists, and the angry little sounds came from her mouth.
"Uh oh. Ohhh, no, here she goes," Sarah said. "Do I rock her?"
"Ummm…try that."
Sarah sat up straight and started to bounce her in her arms gently. "Shhh shhh…it's okay, Clara." She gave Chuck a helpless look.
In the past two months since his niece was born, he and Sarah had only spent alone time with her here and there. Clara had slept through most of their babysitting adventures prior to this. And if she hadn't been sleeping, she'd been eating instead. The most he'd looked after her was the time Devon was at work and Ellie went to a post-birth check-up for two hours.
And today would be more like eight hours.
At least Sarah was here.
Though she seemed out of her depth. Definitely out of her depth.
Oh, shit …
The Detective Opens the Door
DEAR GOD, CHUCK AND SARAH WERE STANDING IN THAT HALLWAY FOR MONTHS, I SWEAR!!!!!!!!! Well, we’re getting them out of that hallway and into...well, you’ll see. Hehehe.
This the first time you’ve heard of The Detective and the Tech Guy? Fear not! I have the entire Master Post HERE. Wanna read it on the fanfiction.net site instead? Cool cool cool, that’s HERE.
Let’s just dive right in, shall we?
XOXOXOXOXOXO
“I-I was knocking. But you aren’t in there.” She heard him swallow from where she stood a few feet away. “You’re out here. Obviously.” He cleared his throat. “Yeah, I’m here. I, er…I was at work.”
“Right. Of course. Me…Me, too.”
God, she didn’t even know what to say now that he was standing right in front of her. She hadn’t had her shower yet. The shower in which all of the answers were supposed to come to her, the solution to all of her problems magically appear in her head. That was what showers were for, right?
But he was here. She wouldn’t get her magic shower. And she was at a loss for words.
Chuck huffed then and shook his head. “Sarah, I’ve seen a lot of romcoms in my time.” What?? “It’s always the same thing. The main couple gets into a big fight and they don’t talk to each other for days and days and it’s so dramatic, and then something, I dunno, romantic and magical happens to bring them together, put them in the same place at the perfect time and they make up and some campy-ass song plays while they kiss. I don’t—I don’t want that. I don’t want to just sit at home staring out the window wistfully waiting for something romantic and magical to happen. I don’t want to wait for you to come to me. I don’t want to be apart for days and days. I can’t do that. I can’t wait. I can’t sit around not fixing this when it needs to be fixed. Those movies are shit because when you really love someone, it’s like torture sitting around knowing they’re mad at you, that you screwed up and you can just be a God damn grown up instead and talk to them. I need you,” he said, taking a step closer, and she felt just as breathless as he sounded. “I need to be with you. I don’t wanna play games like that with you. We need to talk. I want to talk to you, hash this out. Because I love you. I love you more than anything in the entire universe and I’m so sorry. But I have so much more to say than just that. And I’m-I’m open to listening, too. I can do that this time. I promise. And can I please come in? Please?”
She nodded a bit dumbly, blinked once, and stepped past him to unlock her apartment door. She stepped inside, pushing it open for him to follow her, and she flicked on the light and set her briefcase down as he shut the door behind them.
When she turned to face him again, he was just standing there watching her, shifting his weight nervously. “I’m sorry, Sarah,” he said, then, his shoulders slumping, head falling forward so that his chin was pressed to his chest.
She took him in now that they were out of the hallway and alone. He was in a pinstripe suit and brand new brown leather dress shoes, wearing a dark green tie that was a little crooked. He looked good. He’d met with a potential sponsor today though, Stephen had told her. Hence the dress shoes instead of his usual Converse.
“I-I am, too,” she breathed.
His brown eyes snapped up to meet her blue ones. Perhaps he didn’t think she owed him an apology. She did, and she knew she did. But considering the weirdly charming nonsense about romcoms he’d just blurted in the hallway, it was probably better for her to allow him to get it all off his chest before she really apologized.
“First thing’s first, Sarah. What I said to you…” He swallowed, then seemed to force himself to meet her eye as he continued. “I have no right making assumptions about your life before this in the first place, but to have been so downright vicious towards you, insinuating that—that because you don’t want my help, that’s why you’ve…had no friends.” He winced and looked up at the ceiling.
Chuck looked completely mortified and miserable as he repeated the sentiments he’d expressed to her that night before she left.
“That…didn’t feel great,” she admitted, quietly.
“No, of course not.” He closed the distance tentatively, then reached out to take her hand in his. His gentle touch filled her with the overwhelming need to throw her arms around him and bury her face in his neck, stay there forever. Or at least until this ache subsided.
But she stayed where she was, resisting the urge.
“Sarah, I’m so sorry,” he said, his thumb stroking the back of her hand. “It was a cruel thing to say, and I’m so disgusted with myself for saying something with the intention of hurting you. I was hurt, so I said something to hurt you. It was childish, stupid, and-and it wasn’t true.”
She wasn’t entirely sure if it was as untrue as he insisted, but she didn’t really feel like tackling that complicated issue at the moment.
“I completely understand if you don’t want to forgive me for saying it, but I at least want you to know that I hate myself for being so mean. I love you. The last thing on Earth I want to do is hurt you like that. I’m a total jackass.” He huffed and hung his head.
“Well, thank you,” she said finally. “For apologizing.” She paused. “I can forgive you, Chuck, but there’s a lot we need to talk about besides just that.”
“There is. There’s a lot. But y-you forgive me?”
Sarah felt the corner of her mouth twitch in a bit of a smile. “Yeah, I do. But you say something like that to me again, I’ll punch you in the dick.”
He let out a huff, relief and amusement in it, and he held his hands up by his head in surrender. “I still think I deserved that this time.”
He probably did, but she didn’t much like the idea of doing that to him.
But he was sobering up now, rubbing the back of his neck, apparently having more to say. “I really overstepped the other day, Sarah. Giving Jorge the money for the rent after you told me no, going behind your back to do it…I overstepped big time. I crossed the line. I apologize for that, too. I was wrong.”
She nodded slowly and started taking her coat off. She felt the heater in the apartment starting to kick in.
“This isn’t an excuse, just an explanation. B-But after the really terrible day I had, I was already kind of a powder keg with a very short fuse. I felt like you were pounding on me and pounding on me and it felt really unfair, and I just refused to actually listen to what you were saying.”
Sarah felt her claws come out a bit, and he must have seen it, because he held his hands up again, stepping even closer, and continuing before she could defend herself.
“That’s how I felt then, the other night. That’s not how I feel now. I’ve had some separation from our fight, I’ve been thinking about it and thinking about it over and over and over, and every way I look at it, you were right. I was being a defensive idiot, Sarah. I was offended and hurt and like a child, I closed myself off. I walked into my condo that night already in the wrong frame of mind and it just got worse from there.”
She huffed and tossed her coat onto the coat rack, pushing a hand through her hair and nodding again. “I think maybe both of us were in the wrong frame of mind.”
“Yeah,” he said softly. “Maybe. But you were just trying to explain and I refused to listen. I’ve been pushing and shoving my way into this agency because I-I guess I felt like you needed me there. I really was just trying to help.”
“I know,” she interjected, nodding.
“But that doesn’t make my inability to listen and understand what you wanted from me less wrong.” Chuck sighed, shoving both hands through his hair in frustration…at himself, she thought. “I do have faith in you, though. Even if I apparently did my damnedest to make you think I don’t, I really do. I have so much respect for you. I know you can do anything. I-I mean, I have so much faith in you, I think I’d even climb into a submarine if I found out you were gonna drive it. I’d willingly climb into that thing, and you know I hate confined spaces, especially underwater like that.”
She found herself letting out a short giggle, in spite of everything.
“I’ve been making the mistake of thinking that my constant need to help you wasn’t affecting anything, and this whole time it’s been making you feel like I don’t think you can start this agency on your own. I know you can, though. I got nervous and stupidly lost my footing when you told me about being late on your office rent. I jumped the gun. I went behind your back and I did it knowingly, and I’m a total fuck-up for doing that. I’m sorry.”
Sarah nodded again, crossing her arms over her chest.
“I get why you were so angry. And I promise to never do something like that again, especially not behind your back. That’s not what you do when you respect someone as much as I respect you.” He took a deep breath. “I made a lot of mistakes. A-And I’ve been thinking a lot about what you said, about me…” He paused, and she saw a tinge of pink on his cheeks. “About me being privileged, I mean.”
“No, Chuck, I—”
“Hear me out, though. Please.” She closed her mouth and nodded for him to continue. And he smiled a bit, looking up at her through his eyelashes. “Because you’re right. There’s been enough separation between then and now and I guess I’ve allowed myself to lose sight of what it felt like not to have this much money. I’m embarrassed, mortified even, that that’s the case. It’s not easy to admit, but I think I’ve been taking my family’s success for granted. I forgot what life was like before this. When things were up in the air, every day wondering if my parents might have to sell one of our cars, if I’d have to skip college and go straight into the job market, something I really didn’t want to do. I did a lot of soul searching yesterday. Between the drinking.”
She lowered her chin and made a face. “Oh, Chuck, really?”
He winced and shrugged. “I know. But it’s hard not to let self-pity get the best of you when you’re feeling as bad as I was feeling. And the whiskey was…right there in front of me.” He winced again. “I’m not proud of it.”
The P.I. wanted so badly to reach up and fix the errant curl that had fallen onto his forehead, touch his face, squeeze his hand, something. But she didn’t move, just smiling a little at him.
“Th-The important thing is that I am privileged. And I’m very grateful that you’ve helped me see that. I maybe knew on the surface level. I know I’m rich. I know I have more than most people, too much some would say. Hell, I would say. To have all this money and be dating the best woman in the universe? Damn.”
Sarah twisted her mouth to the side in an attempt not to show him how much she liked what he’d just said.
“But you were right, Sarah. Because my idea of solving a problem has been throwing money at it for a while now. Because before this, before you, I didn’t really have to work at anything besides my job. My family is my family, there’s no work or compromise there. And Morgan’s…” He shrugged, a goofy smile on his face. “Morgan’s Morgan. We don’t fight. Ever. About anything.”
She couldn’t help letting out a soft hum of amusement. Chuck and Morgan were so damn cute together.
“And I’m not saying you’re difficult or that this relationship is difficult, I’m just saying a romantic relationship is different and I haven’t known you my whole life. You’re newish. And different from anyone I’ve ever met. Does that make sense?” She nodded. “And I can’t just throw money at you to fix things. I can’t throw money at your problems, either. Something you were trying to tell me but I just wasn’t listening,” he droned, rolling his eyes at himself. “I’m listening now, though. And I won’t do any of this again, okay? I promise you, baby.”
Maybe it was the way he called her baby, how deep his voice was when he said it, the fact that his apologies all rang so beautifully sincere, how much she felt the love still between them…She didn’t know what it was, but the moment that last word slipped out from between his lips, she had to cover said lips with her own.
In the back of her mind, she knew there was a lot more to say. She had apologies of her own to make. And she had to explain things better to him. He deserved more.
But right now, the only thing she wanted to give him was the feeling of being trapped between her bed and her body.
He kissed her back immediately, and as his hands closed around her arms, she heard him emit a desperate whimper.
Fire spread from her center to engulf every last bit of her body, and she held onto him that much tighter, dragging a hand up into his hair and twisting those soft curls between her fingers.
When they pulled back for air, both of them gasping, Sarah nuzzled his cheek with her nose. “Chuck…?” she breathed, tangling her other hand in the lapel of his coat.
“Yes,” he whispered back. And that was all they needed to say before they sprang together again.
They kissed passionately, hands grasping at clothes, at hair. In the midst of the kissing and grabbing and sighing, Sarah somehow managed to get enough of her wits about her to guide them slowly towards the bedroom.
Sarah felt a powerful desperation rise in her chest, then. A need to drown out the last two days of tension and ache. Only two days and she’d missed him so hard that it hurt. She needed him to know. She wanted to give him every single part of her so that he knew.
And wasn’t it a little scary just how powerful this was?
They broke apart for air again, and she took a long breath in through clenched jaw, gritting her teeth. And as she reached back, figuring she was somewhere near the bedroom door, needing to be inside, needing to be on that bed with him, her hand found nothing but air.
God, where were they then? She didn’t even know. She couldn’t find her door. She didn’t care.
Standing here in the middle of the hallway wasn’t conducive to what she needed either way, so she pushed his button-up down his arms, not caring that the sleeve caught on his watch. And with one quick move, she had him pinned against the nearest wall, his back making contact with a loud thump.
Chuck didn’t miss a beat, pulling her with him, wrapping his arms around her and hugging her against his bare chest. She cupped his face and whimpered into the kiss, almost angry when she found that the pencil skirt she wore wasn’t conducive to climbing his tall, lithe body the way she wanted to.
Instead, she continued kissing him, tucking her hands between their fronts and making quick work of his belt and pants.
Then she felt his fingers at her back, tugging her blouse out of her skirt, yanking it up but pausing for a moment. She broke the kiss and grabbed her blouse, taking it off in one swift movement tossing it away when he seemed a little unsure. He knew better than to think she gave a rat’s ass about her damn clothes ending up on the floor in moments like these. But she knew the last two days must have jarred his confidence a bit.
It was all right. By the end of this, she’d make sure they were both back at the top of their game again.
As their lips smashed together again, she just clung to him, feeling his warm hands so large and strong against her back. It made her feel so heady, even though it was a sensation she knew so well after a year of being intimate with him.
And then his fingers were at the back of her skirt, feeling for a zipper there. When he found none after a short moment of searching, he switched to the side of the skirt. And then she heard the sound of him unzipping the skirt and it pooled at her feet. As she stepped out of it, giggling at the playful way his fingertips teased the insides of her thighs, she had a moment. Just a short memory of the first time he’d divested her of a skirt just like this. The first time he’d visited her in Chicago, after she’d gotten back from a meeting and she’d been tired, frustrated. First, that martini had gone down so well, and then…Well, so had he. In every sense of the word. After he’d struggled a bit to find the zipper on her skirt.
Chuck had learned since then.
Obviously, she thought to herself as he grabbed her by her hips and hoisted her up. She giggled with a squeal and gasped as he turned them around and pressed her against the wall this time, pinning her there as he kissed down her jaw, her neck, and over her shoulders and collarbone.
She spared a moment to take in her surroundings as she tilted her head to give him more access to her neck where she liked his attention most. The door was only a few feet away. They just had to go through it and somehow find the bed. That was it…
But he was making it hard as he unhooked her bra and settled his mouth even lower.
“Chuck…” she whimpered again.
He took the hint, it seemed, grinning against the sensitive skin of her breast and lifting his face, meeting her eyes as he eased her down so that she could set her feet on the floor. She stepped out of her pumps, losing a few inches of height, and she slowly eased herself down to untie his shoes, not breaking eye contact with him even for a moment.
She stood to her full height as he hurriedly toed his shoes off, nearly falling at least twice in his rush. And finally they wrapped themselves around each other, kissing again, haphazardly hobbling the few feet to the door.
The private detective winced as her shoulder crashed into the door, but she didn’t care as it swung open, because she knew her room well enough to know the bed was only about ten feet away. She just had to keep moving as they kissed.
And as the backs of her knees met the edge of the mattress, she sighed in relief against Chuck’s lips, opening her mouth and stroking his tongue with hers. The deep grumble he emitted made her feel half-mad, and as she pulled back from the kiss, her teeth bit down gently on his lower lip, taking it with her. She let it slip out again and he groaned, kissing her at the juncture of her neck, holding her close. Just like that, he lifted her from her feet and put her on the bed. He did it in such an emphatic way, like he was putting something where it belonged, and it was such a turn on for some reason.
They didn’t bother with the duvet or the sheets, kicking off the rest of their underthings, joining on the wrong half of the bed, clinging, surging. She didn’t know how long, she lost count of how often…
Once it was all over and a joint shower was had, Chuck lay facedown in the bed, his body splayed diagonal across it, and she’d somehow ended up with her upper half draped over his back, her breasts rather uncomfortably smushed. She didn’t care. She wanted this contact, and he wasn’t exactly complaining, was he?
“I feel like the best possible thing we can do to finish what just happened off with a bang is for me to get up and make us both a very strong martini that we can drink right here in bed.”
She giggled and turned her lips to kiss him behind his ear, dropping a hand to his hip and stroking him tenderly. It was funny. He’d been hot to the touch earlier, and now she could feel his skin had cooled significantly. He was a little damp from the shower still, too. She shivered herself, glancing down as best she could without exerting too much effort to see that they’d kicked the sheets off of the bed…And after going through so much trouble to climb under them halfway through once they realized how cold her room was.
“But…?” she prompted.
“But you’re so warm and comfy and I don’t want to move again.”
Giggling again, she nuzzled her face back into his neck. “I can forego the martinis for a while if you want.”
“Mmm’good,” he grumbled, and his whole body lifted and eased back down again as he yawned, letting out a wookie sound in the process.
She smirked lovingly, pressing her lips to the nearest part of him and humming comfortably herself.
Then he groaned and gently started to roll out from under her. Sarah laughed as she scooted off of him, letting him sit up and climb off of the bed.
“Couldn’t resist the call, could you?” she teased, easing onto her back to lie on the bed properly and tucking her pillow under her head.
“Nope. I really, really want a martini in bed.”
“I’d take a martini anywhere, but there’s something delicious—salacious even—about enjoying one in bed after what we just did,” she admitted, sending him a look as he glanced over his shoulder from where he was stepping back into his boxer briefs.
He smirked with a “be right back” and disappeared into the hallway outside of her bedroom. As she listened to his footsteps fade, she sat up and grabbed her sheet and duvet, straightening it, pulling it up over her and plopping back down. After the sex and the long shower, she was so satisfied and comfortable that she could easily take a nap while waiting for him to come back.
But of course that was the moment her conscience decided to remind her that while they’d stopped talking for a while, their conversation hadn’t ended, exactly. It had just been interrupted. There was a lot to talk about, something she needed to make sure he really understood this time.
He’d promised to listen this time, right before they’d both decided to set their conversation to the side for more physically pressing matters.
She couldn’t put it off any longer.
And by the time Chuck came back into the room shortly thereafter, she was ready.
Her tech guy’s grin was massive and cheesy as he teasingly tiptoed across the room, handed her one of the martinis, and crawled back into bed next to her holding his own. She glanced at the martini he made her and then set it to the side on her nightstand. He boggled at her. “Can we share yours?” she asked with a wince. “I haven’t had dinner and if I’m gonna get wasted tonight I at least want it to be after I eat a full meal.”
He chuckled and nodded, handing her his. “First sip’s yours, then.”
“Aw, thank you, baby.” She took a long first sip, felt it slip deliciously down her throat and warm her from the inside out, then handed it back to him.
She watched him then, lazily lounging against his side, reveling in how comfortable she was with him, how good it all felt, how important this part of her life was. And then she finally spoke up.
“I’m sorry I closed myself off to you, Chuck.” He was silent for a bit. And then he reached over with the hand that wasn’t holding the martini glass and squeezed her wrist. “I’m sorry I closed off that part of my life to you. And I’m sorry I cut you out of—out of my dream.”
The quietude was comfortable, she found, and when he turned his face to press his lips into her hair, she smiled softly.
“It’s okay, Sarah.” He paused. “I understand now. I understand why you don’t want my help.”
Sarah stopped for a moment, frowned a little, and then straightened, turning to look into his face. He looked back, his gaze steady, confident.
He said he understood, but she knew he didn’t. Of course he didn’t. He’d called himself out now for the things he’d done, and for what he’d said, for not listening to her, for snapping at her. And she appreciated how candid and genuine his apologies were.
But he was doing that thing again, saying he understood with the goal of mending things between them, moving on from this fight they’d had, when he really didn’t understand. How could he understand something she still hadn’t told him?
“Do you?” she asked quietly.
He blinked, his brow furrowing in confusion. “Yeah. I do. You don’t want me to help you anymore, and I get it. I won’t.”
“But you said that you understand why. Why I feel this way, why I want this. Do you really?”
She wasn’t trying to call him out, but he needed to really understand why, not just say he did to make her feel better, to set her at ease. Not when she knew he wanted to know more about her, especially where this was concerned. She knew she confused him by not telling him.
Chuck didn’t seem to know how to respond, so she plucked the martini from his fingers and stretched across him to set it down on nightstand on his side of the bed. Then she sat back and cupped his cheek in one hand, hoping he didn’t take this as her chastising him.
“Chuck, please don’t take this the wrong way, because I love you so much.” He got a look like uh oh on his face, and she was quick to ease his worry. “No, no, this isn’t—I’m not saying things right. I’m not good at talking like you are.”
“Uh, did you hear that mess about romantic comedies that came out of my mouth earlier?”
She giggled. “Fair point.”
Running the backs of her fingers down his cheek, she waited for him to meet her gaze before she continued. “Chuck, you always say what I want to hear, what I need to hear. Even before we were together, you had a way of just…knowing what to say. To make me feel better, to make things better in general. And most of the time, it’s exactly the right thing, helpful and supportive…perfect.” She took a deep breath. “But sometimes it just tables things for later that…” She huffed, searching for the right words. “That need to be addressed right then.” Chuck’s gaze flicked away from her for a moment and she put her hand on his chest to get his attention again. “That isn’t your fault, Chuck. It’s mine. I’m such a freaking dysfunctional human in a lot of ways and I’ve been so closed off and private for my entire life. I think I inadvertently trained you to encourage that behavior. Or-or maybe not encourage my behavior so much, but I think you learned pretty quickly that I pulled away when you asked questions or…pushed.”
It was incredibly sweet that he didn’t seem to want to confirm or deny, still looking out for her feelings.
“You don’t have to say anything, Chuck. I know how I am and I know what I do. My hang-ups aside, your thoughtfulness and the respect you gave me by even caring enough to notice and to learn and—Well, that’s one of the things that made me fall in love with you so hard and so fast.” She leaned in to kiss him, tasting a hint of vermouth, strong and rather bitter, but so delicious.
She looked into his soft gaze as she pulled back, running the pads of her fingers over the stubble on his chin distractedly. “Whenever this subject in particular has come up, me not wanting help with my detective agency I mean, you say you understand. You get it…”
Chuck nodded, pressing his lips together and dropping his gaze. “But I don’t really understand…”
“No. Of course not. I haven’t told you. And again, that’s my fault. Not yours.” She licked her lips, collecting her thoughts for a moment. “And every time it comes back again. You say you get it when you don’t get it, I accept it because it’s what I want to hear, we move on, and it comes back because you…I don’t know, you do something like what you did the other day. But less…er, severe.”
She watched as he winced, letting out a long breath. “You’re right. I do that. I just know you don’t like talking about that stuff.”
“I really don’t. Not at all. But I need to stop hiding from you. I need to open up, and I’m sorry it’s taken me a whole year to start, to give you even the slightest hint about where I’m coming from, why I am…this way.”
As he rubbed his hands over his knees under the sheets, she realized he was a little breathless in anticipation. And what kind of a crap girlfriend had she been all this time that even the smallest bit of her backstory had him this excited? She pushed the guilt away for the time being, the voice inside her telling her she was a damn wreck, and she dove right in.
“You know about law school.”
He nodded. “Harvard,” he said, obvious admiration in his face, an impressed tilt to his smile.
“Don’t be so impressed. I didn’t finish, remember?” “You got there, though.” And those words gave her the confidence she needed to just…tell him.
“Well, I had my heart set on law school, Harvard in particular, because it was closeish to New York City, but still away from home, away from my comfort zone. And I took this trip down there on my own to scope it out and I guess…There’s so much history and prestige and I bought it hook line and sinker.” She rolled her eyes at herself good-naturedly.
“Hey. Stanford. I get it,” he chuckled, pointing to himself.
She smiled. “Yeah, well…There was no damn way I was getting in, and I was kind of glum about it, even while I worked my ass off on the essays, went to every single class, studied like mad to get the best grades possible. I made sure to kick the LSAT’s ass as best I could. And the truth is, I…” She let herself breathe for a moment, and was grateful to Chuck for squeezing her hand. “I’m pretty sure my application would’ve gone straight into the trash if they didn’t get a recommendation letter and personal phone call from the NYPD Department Chief to the Dean.” Chuck’s eyebrows shot up. “I know,” she drawled. “Pretty big deal. He was…sort of like a mentor. Kind of. It doesn’t really matter. He just really came through for me and next thing I know, I was at Harvard Law. Seems he and the Dean were close friends, families spent time together. It got me in, so I kind of…ignored the implications. Sort of. As best as I could. But then the Dean was kind of looking out for me and as big as my law classes were, I could tell there were some classmates who knew about it. I don’t know how, I just…could tell. The way they treated me. Like I was getting preferential treatment or something. And, I don’t know, maybe I was. Maybe I shouldn’t have even been there in the first place and they knew.”
She pushed a hand through her hair and turned to face forward. “It isn’t an easy thing for me to admit, but I got a hand up. I got a hand up getting into law school and then I got a hand up once I was there. The Dean, a few professors, really taking an interest in my well-being, making sure I had what I needed to succeed.” She sighed. “It was subtle, but I felt it. I could see it.”
Chuck was mercifully silent, just there, listening, holding her hand. And she took some strength from it, even though she was swimming in shame, aware of the blush that rose to her cheeks.
“Ms. Danilian, the Dean…Well, I don’t know. I really don’t know her thought process. But she got in contact with Langston Graham.”
“Pinkerton,” he said.
“Yep. Maybe she could tell I was losing my footing, losing confidence, not really as interested in what I was doing in law school, just kind of…going through the motions. I don’t know what made her call him. But she did, told him about me. I didn’t have any kind of…er, home really…besides…” She paused, nervously playing with the sheet in her hand. “Before you, I never really had much of a home. It was basically wherever I ended up, with whatever I could carry. You saw my place in Chicago, yeah? I mean…I never had much.” He nodded. “Maybe that was a reason why they thought I’d be a good candidate. But I guess since I was close to the top of my class, on top of being alone in the world, Graham felt like he’d give me a trial. He sprang some tests on me when he visited to meet me. I don’t think he knew that I knew what he was doing, but I must have passed with flying colors because he didn’t waste any time personally asking me to join the Pinkerton Detective Agency.”
Her boyfriend was gaping at her by this point, shaking his head. “Sarah, that’s amazing. The director of Pinkerton came to you personally to beg you to join.”
“He didn’t beg,” she giggled. “He invited me.”
“Same thing.”
She gave him a flat look. “Nevertheless, I didn’t have to think much. I leapt at the chance to get out of there, do something different. Can you pass me that martini?”
He did, taking a sip himself when she was finished and setting it back on the nightstand.
“So I trained at Pinkerton. I thought things would be a bit different, without the influence of the chief or my…prior connections. It was, kind of. But not, at the same time. I was seen as getting a bit of a leg up because of my being a woman…a woman who looks like…” She gestured to herself.
“A warrior goddess?” he filled in. She blinked at him and he shook his head. “Sorry. Morgan and I decided you’re like a valkyrie but without the whole choosing who gets to live and who has to die bit.”
“…Thank you?” Sarah shook her head and snorted quietly. “The point…” She looked at him meaningfully.
“Sorry,” he mumbled, properly scolded.
“…is that there were a lot of uses for someone like me in a detective agency. And it didn’t take long before it was pretty clear to me that this was why a few of the guys in the agency took a long time to trust my work. And I got a lot of side-eye.” Chuck frowned deeply. “Once I started taking lead on cases, it was okay. I mean, it was one of those Good Ol’ Boys places still, but I wasn’t harassed or disrespected. Not to my face, at least. I just…I got that same sort of feeling sometimes. Like I shouldn’t have been hired. Like I didn’t belong there.”
“Sarah, I saw you working your ass off when you were assigned our case. You saved my life, my dad’s life too, but mine in a more…uh…blatant, literal way.” She tilted her head and smiled a little at him. “You solved a murder. You’re so freaking smart. Seriously. Watching you work was like…” He huffed, seemingly unable to even finish his sentence.
She leaned in and kissed his cheek. “You’re sweet, Chuck. And I appreciate that.”
“It’s true.”
“Thanks.” Sarah paused, turning her hand over under his and threading their fingers together. “What I mean by all of this is that I-I guess my whole life I’ve been sort of given this extra advantage. I’ve had doors opened to me that were shut for others because they didn’t have important people going to bat for them. I’ve been given leadership roles and had people kind of look out for me for, like, almost a decade now. And when I left Pinkerton, it was like…” She sighed. “I don’t know, like a clean slate. There are no police chiefs, no kindly deans, no mentors, no one like that to give me everything, lay it all out on a platter for me. I had this detective agency idea, and for the first time I could create something from nothing all on my own. No help from anyone.”
She could see that Chuck was putting the pieces together now. He had that thoughtful look on his face that she thought was so cute. He wore it sometimes when he was coding and he ran into a problem. Watching him work through it without him knowing she was watching was one of those simple pleasures, those quiet moments in their relationship that she secretly treasured more than anything else in her life.
“Chuck, I’ve been so willfully vehement about not accepting help from anyone, especially you, because I need to know I can do this. I need to know, for my own personal peace of mind, that I can actually do these things on my own. That the help I’ve gotten isn’t the only reason why I’m here. That I have skills. That I can make it, just me, no mentors or guardian angels. No recommendation letters or personal phone calls. Just me, working hard, finding success all on my own.”
“A fresh start, forged from your own hard work, and your own money.” He pulled his hand away and slung his arm over her shoulders, pulling her into his side and holding her there. “You want to prove them wrong, all the people who looked at you sideways in law school, those Pinkerton agents who thought you were given advantages they weren’t.”
She shrugged. “Yeah. If I can’t do this without my rich boyfriend shelling out the money and handing me my clients, it’ll prove that I really just got here through the work and favors of other people. I can’t handle that, Chuck.”
He held her tighter as she swallowed the lump in her throat. She felt his lips against her forehead. “Quite a knock to your self-esteem, I imagine.”
“Yeah. Which is hard to admit. I’m sorry, Chuck. I know it sounds stupid. I got all of these advantages and privileges and I’m whining about it. It-It’s more complicated than that, though.” There was so much underneath all of it. The pity and sympathy underlying the chief’s actions, the shame of seeing that look in the dean’s face. The one that told her Dean Danilian knew, that Chief Sayer told her about the whole thing. Pity and sympathy followed her everywhere. Nobody had meant harm by it, but it stung so badly. And every merit that followed thereafter felt like another barb sinking into her skin, another thing she hadn’t earned, a gift given to her because of someone else’s sins.
It wasn’t something she wanted to think about now, and she was glad when Chuck spoke up.
“It’s okay, Sarah. I understand.” He held up the arm that wasn’t wrapped around her defensively. “I mean it this time. I’m not just saying it. I really understand.” He gently tucked some of her hair behind her ear and stroked his fingertips over her temple. “I have to say something, though. I think it’s easy to dismiss everything you accomplished because other people helped you along the way. But, well, you took that LSAT on your own. That score you got was yours. What about the grades you got in college? The work you did to be at the top of your class at Harvard Law? The cases you solved as a Pinkerton agent, including my dad’s? Nobody was holding your hand when you were lead on our case.” A dreamy look came over his face. “I mean, I wanted to but with an entirely different meaning to it.”
Sarah melted, pulling back to look into his face, her own features crumbling. That was the cutest thing she’d ever heard in her entire life and she thought maybe she was dying a little. Especially with the teasing nose wrinkle. God, she was truly a goner.
“You get what I’m saying, though, right?” he asked quietly. “Yeah, important people liked you and therefore helped you take some big steps up in your career, in your life, but you still did the hard work, Sarah. You just talked me off a similar ledge last week. Remember? I was singing that nepotism tune, slamming my work, and you reminded me that while my dad gave me the job I’m in, I work hard. And you’re right. I do.”
“The amount of times I’ve gotten texts from you at two in the morning while I was sleeping because you were at work still…” she said, narrowing her eyes at him.
He chuckled. “I know, I know. You get what I mean, though?” he asked again.
“Yes. Thank you, Chuck. Really.”
His smile made everything feel a bit brighter and she scooted in to put her head on his shoulder, cuddling into his warmth. “You’re welcome, baby. Whatever I can do to help. When you want it,” he emphasized then.
“I do want it. I still…” She sat up and looked in his eyes. “I still need to do most of it alone. No more paying my bills, okay? And especially not behind my back.”
“No more. I promise.”
“And I promise to be less of a hard-ass about accepting help, and I’ll try to be more open to asking when I do need it.” He nodded. “I still need to know I can do this without relying on your checkbook.”
“Got it.” Then a look came over his face and he looked down at his lap, his brow furrowed.
“What?”
“There, um…I-I think I should tell you something that might maybe explain…uh, my behavior. Or-Or at least give you some insight into what was, uh, going through my head.” She waited, watching him. “See, I—Crap, I didn’t wanna say this that night because I felt like such a sap for letting it get to me…”
“What is it, Chuck? You can talk to me.” She leaned over to bump him with her shoulder and he smiled a little. It went away just as quickly.
“I talked to my mom the day before.” Sarah’s stomach clenched. “She came by my office and we went for a walk and talked for a while. And I swear I haven’t told her a thing about your agency, but she seems to still know you need clients and she needled—”
“She’s good at that.”
“Yeah.” He sighed in frustration. “She got me into a position where I was insisting you were refusing to let me help you, especially with money.” Sarah could feel her levels rising, the annoyance and, damn it, the hurt, pricking at her heart. “I don’t want to tell you this, baby. I just thought, in the spirit of getting things off our chest…”
“No. Chuck, it’s okay. Keep going.”
He continued with a wince. “She planted this seed of paranoia, Sarah, and then my own self-esteem hang-ups and self-doubt watered the seed, and legitimately made me into a panic plant.”
“What about?”
“You. Leaving.”
She did a double-take. “What? Jesus, what did she say to you?”
“She talked about how you’d have better luck opening an agency in some other city somewhere, like New York, and that you had to know that, had to always be thinking about it. But that you’re staying here because you love me. She, uh, ahem…She told me I provide a big safety net for you. That if this doesn’t work out—your agency, I mean—you’ll just let it go and live off of my earnings.” Sarah clenched her jaw, trying not to let it get under her skin. That woman was pernicious. He rushed on as if he could read her thoughts. “I told her flat-out, without hesitation, that you’d never just let this go. It’s your dream. And even if it got to a point where you had to throw in the towel, you’d never be satisfied living off of my earnings and that was when I realized that…” He let out a frustrated groan, rubbing a hand down his face. “Before you ever lived off of me, you’d-you’d leave first. Find some other place to build your agency where it was viable. Somewhere that isn’t here.” She didn’t know what to say so she just swallowed and lowered her gaze. “It scared the shit out of me. And knowing that you were late on your rent, I thought that if you lost that office, it’d be such a big setback. I guess I got it into my head that you might decide the problem was LA and you’d move away. I’m ashamed of myself, but I spiraled. I spiraled really bad. Then I went behind your back and didn’t pay just your last month’s rent, but the next month’s too, and the late fee. Because you bet your fucking life I’m gonna make sure I keep my detective here, in LA, with me. So selfish and immature and paranoid, I know, but—”
She covered his mouth with hers. It was gentle, slow, and more intimate than anything else they’d shared over the last hour or two. And she slid her arms around his neck, falling onto her back and taking him with her.
When he eventually pulled back, she reached up to stroke her fingers through his messy curls and met his brown eyes steadily. “Chuck Bartowski, don’t you ever spiral like that again, no matter what your mom says to you. Because I’m not going anywhere.” He softened significantly. “I picked up my whole life for you, if you remember??? Moved to Los Angeles, got an apartment I love,” she glanced around her room, “I found an office space. I’ve set my entire damn heart on this place. I’ve dug roots in for the first time…” She felt breathless suddenly. “God, for the first time in my life. LA’s my home.” She had to bite her cheek then as tears stung her eyes. She just barely kept them back. “Your mom can do or say whatever she wants. But we can’t let her keep getting to us like this, okay?”
Chuck nodded vigorously. “You’re right.”
“Maybe Ellie has some tips.”
He chuckled. “She probably has a whole binder on it.”
“She would,” she said with a snort, playing with his stubble. “Hey, I love you.”
“I love you, too.” The gravity with which he responded made her feel weightless, but she also felt…almost overwhelmed. There were moments when they were together and she felt just how incredibly serious this was between them. This was one of those moments. “I’m so sorry I lost faith for a second. I’m sorry I panicked and did something stupid because of it. I feel terrible.”
“Don’t feel terrible. Your mom’s really good at…” Being evil? Could she say that to him about his mom?
“Being evil?” he finished for her, as if he’d read her mind.
She laughed a little. “You said it, not me.” “Noted.”
His grin lit up her whole bedroom.
XOXOXOXOXO
Chuck couldn’t help being distracted as he mixed the batter, the bowl rounded by one arm, and the spoon clutched in his other fist.
He’d wanted to wake up before Sarah so that he could make her breakfast, and he’d found the waffle iron Ellie had given his girlfriend last week. He’d wanted this bit of time alone, rummaging in her kitchen while she slept. He’d found himself needing some time to think.
Sarah had told him a lot the night before, and it opened his eyes to so much about her.
She was so confident as a detective. He watched her when she was on the job, not just when she’d worked his case, but when they’d started dating and he visited her while she was on other cases. She knew exactly what she was doing, every step she took was calculated. She was brilliant.
But she had baggage. He understood the hit she took to her self-esteem after years of receiving what she thought was preferential treatment, and he was sure the people around her—her peers—hadn’t helped much in that respect. She wasn’t able to see the things she’d done for herself, the hard work she put in all those years, because the kindness shown her overshadowed that. He could just see it—how that might eat away at a person’s image of themselves and what they’re capable of.
Chuck hurt for her. Because he could empathize, in a much smaller scale. His dad had pulled him into the business halfway through his time at Stanford. Bartowski Electronics Corporation was already lucrative, making headway, filling the family coffers, as it were. He was set for life because of who his father was. And it did have a way of making you feel privileged, like you were just lucky, given an advantage in life no one else had.
He worked hard, though. He had to. He had to make sure B.E.C. stayed relevant in an industry that changed practically on the daily. He ran the company’s transitions, set up sponsorships, met with partners, anything his dad couldn’t fit into his own busy schedule…
It was something he had to pound into his own head. He was earning his role in the company by working as hard as he was, by coming up with fresh ideas, by reaching out in the community.
Sarah needed to find that place where she could recognize her skills, and he understood now that the only way she thought she could do that was starting this agency without anyone giving her a hand up.
That was why Chuck was a bit nervous when he glanced over his shoulder to look at her laptop he’d set up on her table. She said she’d be more open to his help, and maybe it was too early for him to make this move…
Chuck turned back to the waffle iron then, set down the bowl and spoon, and opened the iron.
“Hmm…” He stared at the contraption, the blinking red light, and then he grabbed the oil spray and popped the cap off, spraying the iron and then watching the steam rise.
The tech guy heard his girlfriend’s feet against the floorboards as she stopped at the doorway into the kitchen. “Okay, so do you turn it over when it goes DING or when it goes DINGDING?” he asked without looking at her. “Because it’s already gone DING and it’s gone DINGDING and I haven’t even put anything in it yet.”
He turned to watch as she giggled and walked over to join him. She was fully dressed for the day, he noticed with a bit of an inward pout, in spite of the fact that they’d woken up to rain. He’d been hoping for a lazy Saturday staying in.
“So ignore the beeps if you haven’t even put anything in, first of all,” she said, pulling her hair up into a ponytail as she sidled up next to him. “That seems obvious.”
“A little less snark, maybe, Sarah Walker, P.I.”
She giggled again and held up her hands defensively. “I’m just saying. Here, put the batter in the iron. I’ll show you how it works.”
He poured it in and she reached around him to shut it.
“Leave it like this until it does the DING.”
“Or is it DINGDING?”
“Any kind of DING, Chuck. It DINGS until you turn it over. It can sense it.”
“Like Morgan’s car. If I take off my seatbelt before we pull into his driveway, it beeps at me like an angry mom. Put on your seatbelt, Charles!” he mimicked, making her laugh.
At the DINGDINGDING, Chuck turned the iron over, thrusting his hands out in a ta da motion. She rolled her eyes, still smiling.
“How’d you sleep?” he asked, then.
“Really, really well. I feel fully rested and ready to take on the worl—Oh shit, it’s raining.” Her face fell as she finally looked out the window.
He laughed. “You didn’t know it was raining?’
“Still have the curtains shut in my room so no, thank you, I didn’t know. This is dumb. I’m not going out in this.”
“That was sort of my plan, too. If you’ll have me. ‘Cause your building doesn’t have an elevator and I don’t want to go back down those three flights just yet, know what I mean?”
“God, you’re so lazy,” she teased, going into her fridge to grab the eggs. “Want a fried egg?”
“Hell to the yeah.”
“And of course you can stay. I’m just going to be doing a bit of work and then watching TV. Maybe I’ll read a book ‘cause that’s a bit more productive.”
He wrinkled his nose in faux disappointment. “Aw man. I left my laptop at home. And my tablet. Guess I can’t do any work today. Just going to have to watch TV and take multiple naps.”
She laughed and then caught sight of the laptop on the table. “Hey, did I leave my laptop open last night? That’s weird. I thought I put it away.”
“Uhhh…No, I…I had to check something. I hope that’s okay. Um, checked my email.” “Oh.” She shrugged. “That’s fine. The DING happened already. You might want to take the waffle out before it gets a little too crispy.”
“Oh. Shit.” He spun back and opened the iron, grabbing the tongs and peeling it out, slapping it onto the plate.
“I was really just making sure I wasn’t going insane or something, thinking I put my laptop away when I didn’t.”
He inadvertently gave off a nervous laugh then, and damn him for it, because she immediately noticed and was right at his side, leaving the two eggs frying on the stove. “What?” he asked when she looked at him pointedly.
“Your nervous laugh. You do that when you have something to tell me and you aren’t sure how I’m going to take it.”
Chuck sighed and turned off the iron, taking her hand and leading her out of the kitchen and around to her table. He woke her laptop, punched in her password, and gestured to the screen. She leaned in and immediately frowned. “What’s this?” she asked.
“That’s an email I composed this morning. I rewrote it maybe seventeen times to make sure it was…Well, anyway…”
“Who is Reggie Lincoln?” she asked. “What are you doing sending him an email about me?”
The good thing was she just seemed curious more than anything, and he didn’t sense any anger.
“Lincoln & Associates Contracting. He’s the CEO. He and my dad have been friends since college. I’ve known him for decades, my whole life pretty much. He’s almost like an uncle. Sort of. I don’t see him as often as I used to. But that’s—that’s beside the point.” He cleared his throat. “Lincoln’s a contracting business, has work everywhere, contacts up the ass. A shit ton of contacts. And a lot of them are pretty high profile, guys who have a lot to lose if they get in the papers over theft, whatever else they might be dealing with. I’m pretty sure some of them could use a private investigator with your skill sets. If only they knew you existed.”
Sarah took a deep breath and turned to look at him. “So you’re telling him to tell his friends about me.” She shook her head. “This is something I should be doing for myself, isn’t it? Like, marketing and advertising…that should be me.”
“Sure, yeah. But this is different. Read the email. It’s just a recommendation with your website and contact info. You did work for me and my dad, we’re really pleased with the work, I think he and his associates might benefit from a P.I. with your supreme discretion. That sort of stuff.”
“I’m your girlfriend, Chuck. He isn’t going to know that? Come on.”
“I don’t know what he knows. Maybe Dad told him his son is dating a private investigator, I don’t know. But who cares? I’m not asking him for a favor. I’m just passing along your information. He can do whatever he wants with it from there. Pass it on or not.”
She sent him a bit of a flat look. “You’re using loopholes in our agreement.” “Maybe. A little.” He winced. “Look, if he does decide to recommend you to other people, they’re going to look at your website that you built, your résumé, your record with Pinkerton…They’re going to make their decision about whether or not to call you based off of things you’ve done, not who you are or aren’t connected to. I don’t know Reggie’s high roller buddies. They don’t know me. I doubt they’d give a crap about whether you’re my girlfriend or not. They’d want someone who can give them results, baby, and they’re gonna decide based on you. Not me. Not Reggie. You.”
He could see her thinking on it, and he wondered if he wasn’t getting through to her. He took it an extra step further.
“Say they like what they see, they’re worried some employee is stealing from them or something and they need a detective but they don’t want this leaking to the press. They call you up and they talk to you. They won’t be talking to me or anyone else. You’ll be selling your skill sets. And when they hire you, because they will hire you, you’re going to be working the case. It’s all you. I’m just one of your past clients who was really pleased with the work you did to literally save my life a handful of times.”
“You’re really talking me into this,” she said, pausing.
“And there’s the email. I’m letting you decide if I should send it or not. If you don’t want me to, I won’t. It’s okay.” He reached down and moved the mouse to hover over SEND. “We’ll have breakfast and pretend this didn’t even happen.”
There was a long pause, and then Sarah reached over to click. There was a whoosh sound and it was gone. When she turned to face him, she took a deep breath. “Thanks, Chuck. For helping me.”
“It’s all you, baby.”
They hugged tightly and he buried his face in her hair. It occurred to him, then, that the rain had gotten worse outside, the pattering against the window more like a…sizzle?
“The eggs!”
Sarah dashed out of his arms as he laughed, turning to watch as she tried to rescue their breakfast, reveling in the tumult of the scene as he realized things were contradictorily calm and settled between them.
Just the way he liked it.