Hello dear readers! So here's the next piece-a bit of a switch from the sentimental last chapter-tempers will flare, words will be said, and things may or may not be thrown at other people. All in a good day's writing, right? So, you know the drill-Chuck = not mine; Beth, Kate, and other characters you don't recognize = mine (Except for AJ; she's lifeislikeaboxofbertiebotts).

Without further ado, here it is!

Iwas baking. Big surprise there. Why was I baking? Because if I didn't move my hands in a productive manner, I was going to ring somebody's neck, namely that damn roommate of mine. I couldn't believe him! I was…I punched the dough unnecessarily hard. Damn him. I was going to ring his ever-loving neck. How dare he!

My thoughts turned blacker and blacker and I admit, I took it out on the bread I was baking. I heard the front door click, but kept working with the dough. I needed to get control of my temper. Losing my cool wouldn't be good now. Think calming thoughts. Like the country and chocolate and tea and a nice long shower…damn him!

"Baking again?"

I looked up only to glare at him and return to my task. I wasn't going to talk. If I talked, I was going to say something probably not very nice.

"Got a problem, Daniels?"

Oh hell no! Not after what he did…he thought I had a problem! No freakin' way. He was gonna have a problem in about 2.5 seconds. Breathing…breathing…I clenched my fists while kneading the dough. Deep breath…nope, not helping. I looked up, my tone brusque.

"Are you just going to stand there taking up space and stating the obvious? Least you could do something productive."

He growled, a definite 'bring it on' type growl, and I don't know what came over me, really, I don't. I just…my patience and my calm (if I had any) flew out the window.

"What, can't think of something productive? Why don't you check out the surveillance—might as well, right? There's Chuck to spy on, Buymore to watch, Castle to patrol. Or hell, why don't I just go take a shower, and give you a show."

His expression was unreadable—he looked the epitome of stoicism and calm; whereas, I…was not. He kept staring, and I glared.

"Aren't you going to say anything?"

He didn't speak, just kept staring. Growing frustrated, I went back to the bread, rolling it out and kneading it again.

"Precautionary detail."

Oh fuck no. "You bugged my room! Our bathroom! How the hell is that a precautionary detail?"

I didn't give him time to answer—my hands were practically shaking with fury. "Do you even know how violated I feel right now? Why didn't you at least warn me? You're supposed to be able to trust your partner! And I don't know about you, but I can't exactly do that when I know for a fact that the said partner has no qualms about watching my every move—even if that means violating my privacy by spying on me in the shower or while I'm sleeping or changing or whatnot!"

He still didn't answer. Just stood there, face unreadable. I hated that face. It said nothing-I couldn't get a read on it, and that really irked me.

"For the love of Peter Pan, aren't you going to say something!"

"Nope."

Why he ought to…he…argh! That was it. I'd had it. Act like it was an everyday occurrence to spy on just anybody and their brother.

"So you're just going to stand there with that damn look on you face?"

He grunted, and before I even knew what I had decided to do, I had grabbed up a hunk of dough and hurled it in the air at Casey's face. I had no doubts he could have dodged it, had he seen it coming. But it surprised him as much as it surprised me. I probably should have been scared…I mean, he was a pretty formidable man, but I was too mad. So mad I couldn't even speak. I dropped the rest of the dough, and wiped my hands on a towel. Not really caring I was leaving a mess, I walked past him and out of the apartment. Damned if I was going to spend another minute there. I passed AJ on my way out, but didn't' stop as I headed to my truck. I needed something really chocolaty, and I needed it now.

I ended up driving to Kate's "Tomes and Treats" bookstore. It wasn't a Wednesday, but I still desperately needed something sweet to eat. Kate looked up from the register when I entered.

"Well, look what the wind blew in! Want your normal?"

I nodded, and went to take my usual spot by the window, facing the door. It was to my surprise someone was already sitting there. A male, I'd say late twenties, early thirties, was sitting with his back to me, facing the wall. Now, why on earth would you take a corner booth if you were going to look in the direction of the corner? That made no sense to me. His hair was a sandy brown. I would have kept up my inspection when Kate's voice interrupted me.
"Here's your usual, chika. You can sit in your usual—oh, Hey Ollie!"

The sandy-haired man turned, and I was faced with a pair of startling jade eyes.

"What'dya want, Katie?"

"Mind if a friend sits with ya? You're in her spot."

Ollie, as Kate had called him, turned to me. Giving a bright smile, he gestured across from me. "The seat's all yours' if I can ask you a question."

Raising an eyebrow, I indicated he should go on.

"Are you a parking ticket? Cause you've got FINE written all over you!"

I bit my lip to keep from laughing; did he really just say that? "Dunno 'bout being a parkin' ticket; 'fraid they didn't give too many of 'em out down home. Think I'm more like library book—you can take me out once or twice, rifle through, but you'll never truly have me. And in the end, the only thing you have to show for it is some missing money from the fine that's paid."

Kate laughed. "Ollie, you may have met your match with this one! Beth, I'd like you to meet my baby brother Ollie—"

"—Oliver Reynolds, it's a pleasure." He held out his hand for me to shake, and I took it. "Beth Daniels, charmed to meet you."

"Oh you're not charmed yet," he replied with a wink, "But you will be."

"So you're saying you came to Burbank to work in yogurt, which you don't even like?"

"Course not. I'm saying I came to Burbank on a chance—working at a yogurt store wasn't my idea of a good time; I'd rather work for a chocolate company; employee discounts and everything."

I was on my third cup of coffee, splitting a generous piece of chocolate cheesecake with Oliver. I'd been at Kate's maybe an hour, or two, or perhaps I was rounding on number three. I wasn't really sure. I did know that I was in a magnificent mood; much better than when I left the apartment. Because of that damn man. And his damn spy technology. But that was okay—because Oliver was good company.

"Why don't you?"

"What? Work for a chocolate company?
At his nod, I shrugged. "I like my coworkers. And I dunno how long I'll stay here; it'd be silly to change jobs just to move again. But what about you? You haven't mentioned where you work."

"Well, I'm"

"—Ollie's a bit of a starving artist, without the starving part."

I looked up interestedly. "Really? Do tell."

"Well, I've been painting all through and after college. I came to my sister's so I could paint something exciting; I figured, it's Hollywood—everything exciting happens in Hollywood. Then Kate told me she actually lived in Burbank, and quite frankly, nothing exciting happens in Burbank."

"Now that, Oliver, is something we'll agree to disagree with. You'd be surprised how much excitement there is in Burbank. You just gotta know where to look."

"Oh really? I don't know if I believe you—care to show me sometime?"

Shaking my head, I rolled my eyes. "I already told you, your witty turn-of-phrases will not work on me."

"That doesn't mean I can't try."

"As the greats say, 'try, try again.' …though in this case, I'm not sure how well it will help you."

He laughed. "You can ask Katie, I'm known to be persistent."

"Now that is something I can believe. You probably got it from her. Lord knows I've learned she's 'bout as stubborn as an ole' mule, bless her heart."

Kate guffawed from behind the counter. "Pot callin' the kettle black."

"Least I ain't callin' it gold!"

Oliver looked at me. "What does that even mean?"

I shrugged, and whispered conspiringly. "No idea, but it'll leave her thinking. Now, more about you being a not-so-starving artist?"

He grinned. "See! You are interested in me. As for my artistry bit, I thought I'd see what inspiration hit me here."

"What kind of art's your focus?"

"Well I mainly—"

"There lives a man who leads a life of danger, to everyone he meets, he stays a stranger,"

Argh, wonderful. The jerk himself. Oliver looked at me, then my phone, and I sighed. "I'm sorry Oliver, but I have to take this."

I left the table, picking it up once I hit the front door.

"What'dya want?"

If my brisk tone bothered him, he didn't act like it. "Where are you?"

"Why would you want to know?"

"You're needed here."

"Why?"

"Stop pussyfooting around and get your ass back home, Beth."

"You can go…jump in a lake, Casey. Don't get your boxers in a bunch; I just wanted to know. I'll be on my way soon."

"Be on your way now."

Oh he did not just order me around. My anger at him from earlier came back full force, and I clenched my fists. I'd love to knock his ass out, I really would.

"I'll be on my way when I damn well wanna be! And I'll thank you not to go barging about in my business and bossing me around. You're not my father, brother, or boyfriend, which means there is no justification in commanding me about like a soldier. Now if you'll excuse me, I've left Oliver waiting, and quite frankly, he's a bit higher up on the list then you are at the moment. I'll be home when I'm home."

Without further ado, I ended the call, not bothering to wait for a reply. I wasn't going to waste my breath speaking with someone who quite obviously was being a jerk. And rude. And just…bitchy. I got back to the table, and I must have had a pretty scary look on my face, because the first thing Oliver asked was, "Who's the bee that's in your bonnet?"

I glared at nothing in particular. "My roommate. I'm gonna have to head off—I'm apparently 'needed'."

"Will you be okay to drive? You look like you'd like to run something over."

"Oh, I'll be fine." As an afterthought, I added, "It's the other drivers you have to worry about. And probably my roommate." I grabbed my purse, and went to pay. Oliver joined me, and when I tried to give Kate the money, pushed my hand away. I tried again with the same reaction.

"Oh, would you just let me pay?"

"Now what kind of a man would I be if I didn't pay for such a pretty lady's meal?"

"Well, you don't have to worry about it; I had snack foods, not a meal."

After handing Kate the money, he turned and grinned at me. "That makes no difference; it's all the same to me."

I shook my head—he was a mystery to me. My phone buzzed again, and I saw a text from Casey telling me to get my butt home. Well, that was putting it politely.

"Boy, your roommate must really want you home—gotta paint her nails or some such nonsense?"

I bit my lip to keep from cracking up. The image of John Casey painting his nails…I wanted to memorize that forever. I let a few chuckles through, and after catching my composure I shook my head. "No, no, nothing like that. My roommate, Casey, he's a guy. Not a girl."

He immediately sobered, and I furrowed my brow. He changed really suddenly. "Oh, I didn't realize you were taken."

"Oh, no! No, no, not like that! We share an apartment because it's cheaper for both of us; we maintain a strictly platonic relationship. Most likely he's calling me because something went wrong with the apartment—the fridge or stove or whatnot. We're not—no, just no."

He brightened considerably, and I had to wonder if this guy was a little too happy about my singleness. I mean, God bless him, but I wasn't lookin' to start a relationship, especially with a civilian. Er, not with a spy either. I was happy being single. Mostly. Well, yeah, I was. I was happy being single. And I wasn't trying to convince myself either. I realized I was still standing with Oliver. Shoot. Had to head out.

"Sorry, Oliver, didn't mean to zone out. I've really gotta run—the man'll have a coronary if I'm not there soon."

"Will I see you again?"

He looked hopeful, and I couldn't bear to let him down. I should have told him no; should have made sure he knew he didn't have a chance with me, but I didn't.

"Sure, I'm usually here Wednesdays for a coffee and to catch up with Kate. You're more than welcome to join me for a slice of pie."

His green eyes practically gleamed, and I was struck by how young he must have been. Maybe my earlier calculation was off—surely he was definitely leaning towards the early to mid-twenties. That or he had a naturally boyish face.

"Great! You do realize that gives me more time to charm you, if you've not been charmed already."

I was almost to the door before I turned around, and gave him a sweet smile. "I'll hold you to that—we'll see how well you charm."

And with a parting goodbye to Kate, I headed out towards my truck, ready to face that grumpy bear I call a roommate.

"You're telling me you dragged me away from Kate's to tell me Beckman set us up for a mission next week."

He grunted, and I resisted the urge to slap him. Oh but it was tempting. So tempting. I got home from Kate's in order for Casey to tell me that Beckman set up a mission for next week. He could have waited to tell me that when I came home.

"I was having good conversation with friends, a delicious piece of cheesecake, and you interrupted me!"

"Shoulda been home anyway—you're on the clock."

"That's what cell phones are for. And I'm not on the clock—technically, Sarah is. Because she's Chuck's handler. We're just part of the team. And we're the part that does van duty—"

"Or surveillance?"

I snarled. "Don't even mention surveillance to me—I'm still pissed off!"

"Gonna make me?"

I clenched my fist. No, Mom always said it wasn't nice to hit a body. But…I bet she didn't know John Casey. "No, I'm not. Because that's not polite. Do you know what else is not polite? Having to take your phone call in the middle of my conversation with Oliver. And we were just about to"

"—who's Oliver?"

"A friend. Now, as I was saying,"

"—who the hell names their kid Oliver?"

"Same person who names their kid John. Now will you shut up and listen to my story?"

"Who is he?"

"Good God, are-you-a-bro-ken-rec-ord? I'm trying to flippin' tell you!"

He growled but I stood my ground. Like he could scare me. What was he gonna do, eat me? He couldn't kill me—too many people would notice me missing. Couldn't hit me, I'd fight back. Plus, John didn't seem the type to hit a girl. After a while, I really got tired of standing and glaring. It was tiring.

"Well?"

I looked at Casey. "Well what?"

"Who. Is. He."

"Are you going to interrupt me this time?"

He growled, and I took that to be a negative. "Right, so where was I? Oh! My conversation with Oliver. Well, he's an artist, staying with his sister here in Burbank. Kate, you know Kate? Well, you don't know her but I talk about her all the time, so you might as well, well, it's her brother. Oliver Reynolds. Anyway, we were talking about what he was doing in the city—I don't think either of them are actually from Burbank, they speak with a bit of a—"

"Beth."

"What!"

"The point?"

"Oh, well, the point being…considering Oliver introduced himself by using a cheesy pick-up line, he's quite a nice fella."

John growled, and I raised an eyebrow. "Problem, John?"

"You're supposed to be protecting and watching the asset—not flaunting your ass…ets."

I flushed. "Well you'd know all about my 'assets' wouldn't you, Mr. Surveillance Man?"

He smirked. Damn him, he smirked! "It's not funny John!"

"It's nothing I haven't seen before."

I glared at him and marched up to where he was standing. Ignoring the fact he was a good almost foot taller than me, I stood with my hands on my hips, eyes narrowed dangerously. He was about five seconds from testing my red-headed temper, and God help him if he did. "If I didn't know you any better, John Casey, I'd say you were jealous of Oliver. As for my 'assets', well you may have seen many women's goods before, but ya ain't seen mine. Leastways not person-to-personlike. And yer' not gonna. I'm not some lil' ole' gal who'll throw herself down for a romp in the hay, spy style. That ain't me. You may have had multiple 'partners' in your career as an NSA Agent and Marine, but this is one partner's who'll you'll not have."

"Wouldn't take a woman unless she was willing, Beth."

"Well, yeah, but, I meant—" I fumbled my words. The quiet reply to our otherwise loud conversation surprised me. Well damn. Now I felt kind of guilty. I didn't mean to insinuate that. No! Don't feel guilty Beth. He was the one who bugged your room. The bathroom. And interrupted your otherwise wonderful visit at Kate's. Don't give in! But I could tell with the sinking feeling in my gut, I was going to apologize. I sighed, and cursed my weakness—I hated it when tensions were high and bad feelings were running amuck.

"Look," I started, right at the same time John spoke, "Listen,"

We both stopped. "John," "Beth,"

Pausing again, I shook my head. I just had to say it fast and first, get it out of the way before he could say anything else. We both spoke again at the same time:

"I'm sorry!" "I'm sorry."

What…? That was unexpected. He…did he…no, I must be hearing things. He couldn't have? Could he? Well, maybe he…I suddenly realized he was giving me an equally confused look as I was giving him. I motioned for him to go first.

"What are you sorry for?"

I shrugged. "For um, well, for snapping at you. I let my temper get the better of me, something Mom always warned me about. And for, well, throwing dough in your face earlier. I was angry and…yeah. Wait…why are you sorry?"

He didn't answer right away, instead he opted to pace the floor. Back and forth, back and forth…okay, I should stop watching—it was making me dizzy. "Shouldn've have bugged your room."

What they hey? Did he just apologize? I…I think I was in shock. Well, oh. What did I say to that? Oh, right. I say it's okay. Er, no…ah, right!

"I forgive you. Next time, a lil' heads up would be nice—I mean, it's a bit of a shock finding out when you spot the camera in a half dazed stupor. Will you take out the cameras later?"

"Already did."

"Oh. When'd you do that?"

"While you were out getting hit on by boys."

"Oh, he was in his early twenties, and –hey! I was not getting hit on. One pick up line, and he said it for kicks."

He grunted, and I rolled my eyes. Men. I'd never understand them. I'd finally sat down in the living room to relax before it was time to cook supper. Not that I was really thinking about food—I ate too much cheesecake. John sat down at the surveillance monitors and I made a mental note to double check for bugs. Not that I didn't trust him. I just didn't want to accidently give anyone a peep show. He was smirking, and I threw an M&M from the bowl on the coffee table at him.

"What're you smirkin' bout?"

"Just missing the view of the mountains in the morning."

My eyes widened; I was pretty positive he was not thinking about the Rockies. Unable to resist, I decided to play coy. Teach him to mess with me.

"Well John, you just keep dreamin', maybe one day you'll get to explore those mountains. Maybe in your dreams at least.

So what do you guys think of Oliver and Kate? (Well, more Oliver-we don't get a lot of Kate here). And Beth's temper...pretty spitfire, eh? As always, please review-I'll give you virtual cookies. :)