a/n: this is a ChuckQuinn production.
A/N2: Send help. Please. (He won't stop. I promised no new ones but he won't stop.)
Disclaimer: I don't own Chuck
Chuck sat at his desk, looking through the plans of different security systems, trying to figure out where the weak point was in any of them. Word on the street was the Cat was about to strike again. He didn't know where or when, but he knew her. It was time, and this time he would be ready. Everyone was gone from the White Collar division for the night. Only he remained. There was no actual case, no actual leads, but Chuck knew her, and he knew she would strike soon. He had loosened his tie, unbuttoned a button on his shirt, and had rolled up his shirtsleeves. He picked up his coffee cup and found it empty. He sighed, pushed back in his chair, stood up, and walked to the break room.
He got his coffee, came back, and stopped, staring at his desk. Three folders were missing. He glanced around, saw nothing, but he felt it. He felt the eyes on him, he felt….her. He reached for his gun, when he was hit from behind, his gun flying across the room. He found himself pushed across the desk face first, and he felt her behind him, taking his arm and pinning him there.
"Hey, Curls," she all but purred. "Long time, no see." Her body pressed against his, forcing him against his desk. Her right hand had his wrenched behind him and her left had a handful of the afore mentioned curls. "You're letting it grow out?"
"Not that it's any business of yours, but yeah, I am," Chuck replied.
"Hmmm, woman left you?" she asked. She felt him tense. "Too straight laced, too…by the book? Trying to mix it up? I like it."
"Not that it's any of your business, but I'll have you know I've had no complaints in that department," Chuck spat.
"But have you had any compliments?" The question hung there, and he said nothing. "Well, let me give you one. Thank you for doing the research I needed. You are very….thorough. Are you that….thorough, in everything you do?" She heard Chuck swallow. "I always enjoy the chase, although I am curious to see what you would do if you ever catch me."
"I would lock you up," Chuck replied.
"I bet you would, Slugger," she purred.
"NOT LIKE THAT!" Chuck blurted, flustered by her, as usual. "Why do you have to make everything…dirty?"
"Name of my sex tape," she replied. She reached into her pouch, pulled out a rag and placed it to his face. "Sleepy time, Curls. Think about me while you dream." She let his limp body go, gently. She smiled toward him, turned and headed toward the elevator.
She stood there, waiting for the elevator, and then…she felt it…him! She tried to move, but he slammed against her, pinning her against the elevator doors. "Oooo, so that's how you like it! Lucky girl!"
"Can you shut up for one minute!" he barked. He managed to get her wrists behind her to cuff her.
"Maybe I've misjudged you, Curls. You bring your own handcuffs where ever you go?" She heard the choking sound, as he spun her and slammed her against the door.
"That's it, I'm unmasking you now, what do you think of that?" he asked, pulling the mask off and seeing her smiling face, her teasing blue eyes, her blond hair with what Chuck would call a flirty curl if he was forced to. She was running her tongue against her lip.
"Like what you see? I think you cut my lip…you kinky, curly, G-Man," she said with a wink. Her knee came up quickly, hitting him in the groin, and Chuck hit the ground. She slid down the door, hitting the ground, fell over to her side, and lifted her butt. She brought her hands forward and moved her legs out of the way, bringing her cuffed wrists in front of her. She reached down, and got the key, as Chuck groaned. She undid the cuffs, grabbed her mask, put it on, and entered the elevator car as she turned to him. "I'm keeping the cuffs as a keep sake. To remind me of the first time you tried to cuff me up." She bent her fingers in a wave as the door shut, leaving Chuck lying there.
}o{
"It seems that the camera was down in front of the elevator," Graham said to Chuck a little while later. "The only time we got her on camera was when she assaulted you on your desk and when she got on the elevator. She was masked in everything we have on her." Chuck nodded. "What did she look like?"
"Red hair, green eyes, freckled," Chuck replied. "But I took in enough of the gas to make me loopy."
Graham nodded. "Go home. Get some rest. You need it."
"Sir," Chuck began.
"Go." Chuck nodded and left Graham's office. Graham watched him go.
}o{
Chuck entered his apartment, dropped the keys on the table beside the door, and shut the door behind him, locking it. He removed his tie, threw his overcoat on a nearby chair, and headed toward the bedroom. He showered, dressed, then wandered into the kitchen to find something to eat. Finding nothing he liked, he shut the refrigerator door. He went back into the bedroom and crawled into bed. He had shut his eyes when he felt it.
"Does wearing that suit get you so worked up?" he asked the room that appeared to be empty. "You do know there's no audio, right?"
"Listen, the Cat is known to have a certain flirty way about her," she responded.
"HA!" he laughed, sitting up, not seeing her. "I told you about Pete's and Black Cat flirting, and Catwoman and Batman. That's why the Cat is the way she is."
"Hmmmm, maybe," she conceded. "Did you describe me?"
"I described Carina to a tee," Chuck responded. "And was she out and about?"
"Oh, yeah," she replied, pouncing on him, trapping him under the covers. She sat up and slowly began to unzip the cat suit. "She was at the clubs then, now, and will be all night."
"So, you're protected?" Chuck asked, his face serious. She shook her head, a grin on her face. "Sarah. You know what I mean!"
"It's done, Chuck. I have the plans, I only have to steal the painting, and I'm in the cartel," Sarah replied, as she slowly unzipped her zipper. It went to the swell of her breasts, and then stopped. She reached behind her and held up the cuffs with one finger. "Now, what do we do about these?" Chuck lost the ability to talk.
a/n: Thanks for reading.