John Casey, super spy, was getting frustrated. He growled as he looked around his usually tidy apartment. Little white wads of crumpled paper were currently littering his floor. He had long ago stopped caring about his aim as he angrily launched sheet after sheet of paper in the general direction of his trash can.
For the love of God, how hard could it be, he asked himself, to write a simple personal ad? More importantly, why exactly was he even trying in the first place? He tossed his blue Bic down on the desk and watched as it bounced to the floor and leaning forward he pinched the bridge of his nose as the bright and smiling faces of his partners invaded his thoughts. Oh, that's right. He remembered now why he was putting himself through this torture. It was all because of the intersect and his handler. Yep, it was all because Bartowski and Walker were so blissfully happy that their relationship back on track and out in the open. And because they were happy, they wanted everyone to be just as happy. Unfortunately for him, he was included in 'everybody'.
He could still hear the intersect's voice in his head, when they had first broached the subject.
His two partners had ambushed him one afternoon while he'd been down in the Castle finishing up on some paperwork from their latest mission. "Come on big guy," the kid had said to him. He had even dared to touch John's shoulders. "You need to learn to let your hair down ... relax a little." And oh my God, had Chuck actually attempted a massage . John had growled at that point and Chuck, laughing nervously, had given him a little pat on the back and moved away.
However, if John thought he had ended the inane conversation, he was wrong. Chuck had just put some distance between them, and continued. "We all know you aren't happy John. It's very easy to see. And well, Sarah and I have discussed this ... and we think you need a girlfriend."
The NSA agent had given the CIA agent a look that could kill, but she had just smiled at him as if she was really enjoying this. He had told himself, there and then, that they were so going to pay for meddling in his personal life. That thought made him smile just a little too much.
Chuck had, as usual, mistaken the smile as agreement and had continued on with his drivel. Listening to all these 'lady feelings' was really starting to give John a headache so he tried to tune it out. Oblivious to it all, the nerd-herder had gone on and on about "the love of a good woman", not wanted John to end up "alone and bitter" and how he "needing some non-lethal excitement in his life."
When he'd had enough, John just stood and walked out of Castle without saying a word. He had hoped they both had gotten the picture. He was not interested. Well, there was one lady he knew, who could maybe fill the big hole in his heart, and even though she was available, she had expressed no interest in him at all. And he wasn't one to push things, unless it was mission related, of course.
Just thinking about how all this had begun was causing another headache. Adding a scowl to his growl, he shook his head. Couldn't they just have left well enough alone?
Apparently, they couldn't and had continued to harangue him about the subject at every opportune moment. "Why wouldn't he at least try it?" they asked, over and over. Then they had even started given him suggestions on the methods he could use to find his lady love.
They had suggested speed dating. He had argued that he would probably end up shooting someone ... having to listen to a bunch of desperate single woman and divorcees, prattling on and on about why they were single. He might even have to shoot himself."
Well, then ... " they'd offered next, "How's about a blind date? We could totally set you up!" Again, John had balked at this suggestion. He could only imagine the kind of girl Chuck would come up with. As for Sarah, he'd had enough interactions with her friends and they had ended so brilliantly. Thank you very much, but no way Jose'.
Internet dating was the next choice. John shot that down too. He certainly didn't want to end up on an episode of "Predators". It would be his luck to meet someone, who said she was 30 and ended up be seventeen. He was not some perverted old man.
Their suggestion about asking Ellie to set him up with someone from the hospital had actually made him jump up from his chair in frustration. "No! Why can't you let this drop?"
He had begun pacing back and forth, trying to reel in his anger. He had had a chance at love before, and given it up. Even though he was building a relationship with his daughter, Alex, he knew he had burned all his bridges with Kathleen.
And Ilsa was long gone, whereabouts unknown. He'd most likely never see her again.
He'd had two chances at love and lost them both, he wasn't sure he even deserved a third.
"I don't want, or need your help in this. I'm fine alone. I like alone. You two work because you're both spies ... I' m not going to find another woman in this lifetime who will understand what we do. I'm not going to build another relationship built on lies."
Chuck and Sarah were both stunned into silence, and hoping they had finally accepted what he was saying he turned to leave them once again. But as luck would have it, the Intersect had one more ace up his sleeve. "How about a personal ad?"
The Colonel had whipped around to stare down the younger man, but saw he was not backing down. He was just standing there with a smarmy grin on his face. One that John would have liked to wipe off of it. Running his hand through his hair he had given in.
"Okay, I give ... for Christ's sake. If I consent to this lunacy, and place a personal ad ... and nothing comes of it, will you let it drop?"
Sarah and Chuck had smiled at each other, as if their great conspiracy had finally worked.
"Sure thing partner," they had said in unison. and that, as they say, was that.
So here he was, sitting alone in his apartment. He had told himself it would be easy peazy ... piece of cake. It was just a few words, right? Only it wasn't easy. Not. At. All. Nothing he wrote down was coming out right. He just wasn't feeling it. Oh, the "single, white male, mid- forties in search of" was coming out just fine. It was the rest of it that was giving him a major problem.
Now, John considered himself to be a fairly intelligent guy. So he was baffled as to why he couldn't do this. Every time he wrote out what he was looking for, and the traits of his ideal woman, he would find some fault in it. Rip it out, toss it away. Hence the mess surrounding him. Not being one to give up, however, he reached down to retrieve his pen so he could start over again.
After tapping the pen on the desk's surface, he started to write again. He had once again come to his sticking point when there was a knock on his door. Somewhat thankful for the reprieve, he wasted no time in flinging the pen down once more and answering the door. Since Sarah and Chuck were away on a lovers' retreat, John was curious as to who it could possibly be.
He squinted as the brightness of the sun momentarily blinded him, then smiled when he saw who his visitor was. Standing on his doorstep in a lovely violet sundress, was his equally lovely neighbor, Ellie Bartowksi. She was surely a sight for sore eyes, waiting to be invited in and holding a casserole dish in her hands.
"Hey Ellie," he glanced down at said casserole, then back up to meet her steel grey eyes with his deep blues. "To what do I owe the pleasure of your company?" He stepped back into the apartment, throwing the door open so she could enter. "Not that I mind a pretty lady, bringing me dinner." He grinned.
"Oh, I was just in the neighborhood." Ellie grinned back. " I just fixed this huge chicken casserole and realized that with most everyone gone, it was just too much for me." She bit her bottom lip and meet his gaze. "I thought you might want to share."
John felt like he had hit the jackpot, as his mouth started to water, for the lady and the food. The best things came out of Ellie's kitchen. "Why Ellie, " he drawled, "that is a most excellent idea ... why don't we get that in the oven. I have to admit I am famished."
He watched her backside sway as he followed her into his kitchen. God help him, if she wasn't even more tempting than the dish in her hand. He had to turn away when she bent down to put the casserole in the oven. He'd been thinking about what he wanted in a woman all afternoon. Now here she was, in the flesh. In his kitchen. Looking prettier than any woman had the right to.
He gripped his hand against his thigh to stop himself from launching himself at her, and turned to walk back into the living-room. His mind was so fuzzy, he was suddenly oblivious to the little wads of paper cluttering up his usually pristine floors.
He plopped down on his sofa and listened as Ellie took two wine glasses out of his cupboard and popped the top off a bottle of wine. He smiled when she came and stood behind him, handing a glass of white down to him. Always the perfect hostess, he thought, even in somebody else's home.
He was just about to take a sip of the wine, when Ellie voice distracted him. "John, what's with all the paper on the floor?" Her bafflement was clear in her voice. "Are you writing your autobiography or something?"
He was embarrassed. How could he have forgotten? "No," he cleared his throat. "I was trying to write a personal ad." His voice was so low that she had hardly heard.
"A personal ad?"
Damn, she had heard. "Yes, your brother and Sarah wouldn't relent until I agreed to it. They think I need a girlfriend."
'They could be on to something, John" there was laughter in her voice as she spoke.
Seeing his shock at her response she went on. "Everyone needs someone, every now and then ... to come home to. A safe haven if you will."
Picking up one of the balls of paper she looked him square in the eye, "It appears you are having some problems ... maybe I can help."
"Now I really don't think," he interjected, "that will be neccessary." He tried to sound sure on that, but failed.
"Oh, come on, John. What's the problem? You can tell the good doctor." She just gave him a smile as she went about collecting all the discarded scraps of paper.
When she was through, she came and sat down next to him on the couch, kicking off her sandals and tucking her feet beneath her.
"Well," he began. "Everything I write is just coming out wrong. I think. so, anyway"
"Let's just take at look at what you've thrown out so far, shall we?" She was starting to sound like she was going to psychoanalyze him. Strangely enough that was okay.
She smoothed out the first page and read the words out loud. "Single white male, mid-forties, in search of single female, age unimportant."
"It makes me sound like a lecherous old man. 'Age not important?' I don't want people to think I'm hanging out at the school yard or the college student union buildings trolling for dates."
Ellie nodded. She could understand that. So she went on to the next.
"Single white male, etc. Looking for Single female, age 29 or older. Must be attractive and physically fit. What's wrong with that?" she asked.
"I thought it may sound conceited, like I think so highly of myself that I put physical beauty over more important things."
She said she could see his point there too.
She read the next one, silently until she got to the last part. "Must be financially stable with a good job." She cocked her head to the side and grinned at him. "And the problems with that would be?"
"It makes it look like I can't pull my own weight and am looking for someone to support me."
Ellie thought it was more like he didn't want someone to depend on him for support, but let it slide.
"Okay, what's next?"
One by one, she went over each rejected ad, asking him what was wrong with each one. Wanting someone who loved to cook and kept a tidy house, brought the argument that he was looking for a mother figure.
He stated that the insult was obvious when he had written that "empty headed blonds, need not reply." He knew plenty of extremely intelligent blonds, so that was a definite "no go."
Ellie couldn't argue that.
"So you don't prefer blonds, that's okay," she added with a slight smile, tucking and errant strand of her own dark tresses behind her ear.
After some time they had gone through every scrap and all that was left was the latest one, still waiting to be ripped out of the notebook. It was just lying on the desk, waiting to be completed.
Ellie blew another unruly strand of hair out of her eyes. "Is that all?"
Fighting back the urge to run his hand through her gorgeously thick brunette locks, he pointed to the desk. "The last one is there."
Sliding her feet to the floor, she eased herself off the sofa and picked up the notebook. Remaining there at the desk, her back still to John, she read his latest offering.
"Single, white male in search of single female, age 29 or older ... for companionship, maybe more. Must be kind and caring." She stopped and laughed, turning to face John once more. "Must. Love. Guns?"
She stalked toward him, slowly. "Oh John, that's is priceless. And you're in luck too?"
He gulped, not exactly sure where she was going with this. "I am?"
"Yes Sir, you are." She stopped right in front of him, smiling for some reason he couldn't quite fathom. "I know someone who fits all your requested wants.'
The veteran spy had to admit he was more than intrigued. "Really? Who, pray tell is that?"
"Well, I'll tell you, John." In a move that he saw as totally out of character, his beautiful neighbor sat down, slowly straddling his lap. A move which, he noted, made the skirt of her flouncy dress ride up her legs ... exposing a long expanse of toned, tanned thigh in the process.
"I believe that would be me." She draped her arms loosely over his shoulders, leaning in to kiss his forehead.
"I'm brunette. I love to cook. I'd like to think you find me attractive." She moved slightly and kissed the right side of his neck, then the left.
"I have a great job, and can totally support myself, and I think I'm in pretty darn good shape too."
John was too stunned at his sudden turn in luck and found he couldn't speak ... or stop her for that matter. Not that he wanted to.
"I'm kind and caring and I think you are too." She pulled back so she could see his eyes. Just as she hoped, they were intently locked on her.
"You are incredibly handsome ... sexy. You make me feel safer than I've ever felt in my life. And sometimes," she paused briefly, nibbling her bottom lip like she wasn't certain of how to go on.
"And sometimes, when you look at me a certain way, I feel a tingling sensation run through me. I haven't felt that way in so long, John. And even though you've never really indicated any particular interest in me, I'm kinda hoping that you are."
She kissed him then, softly on the lips. It was a gentle kiss, uncertain, but heart-felt all the same.
"I know all the secrets about you that I need to know. I know you have a dangerous job and that's okay. You need a shelter in the storm, John. Please, tell me I can be that for you."
He had held himself in check for as long as he could. Without warning he struck, pulling Ellie to him in a crushing kiss that said everything that needed to be said.
They both felt like they were flying.
John couldn't believe he had gotten so lucky, again.
Moments later, Ellie confessed that she could hardly believe she had been so brazen and so honest, finally.
After a few minutes of fevered kissing and roaming hands, John moved Ellie way from him. "But Ellie, you don't love guns. As a matter of fact, I'm pretty sure you hate them," he teased with a laugh and a smile.
She decided to go along with it. "I wouldn't say I love guns as a whole. That's true."
Taking hold oh his biceps, one in each hand, she drug her neatly manicured fingernails down his arms.
"But I love these guns."
He bucked underneath her touch, causing a sweet friction between them, as her dress crept further up her wriggled in his lap, making the contact all the more intimate.
She leaned in to him to whisper in his ear, as she could feel his 'interest' in her growing larger with every passing second.
"And that 'gun' in your front pocket ... I could really love that gun."
Before Ellie could register what was happening, John had her on her back. He moved his body over hers as they sank into the cushions and proceeded to make out like two teenagers.
Ellie proceeded to give him a demonstration of just how much she did love guns. "His" guns at least.
Even as the thought went through John's head, that Bartowski was gonna go ballistic at this little turn of events, he couldn't bring himself to care. If not for Chuck's insistence that John find a girlfriend, this may not have happened.
It was his own damn fault for suggesting the personal ad.
As they lay cuddled on the couch and waiting for the oven timer to go off, John smiled. It was a smile of total contentment. He made a mental note.
"Must send the Nerd a thank you note." His revenge would be sweet in deed.