Chuck Versus Thin Ice
By Steampunk . Chuckster
Summary: On the doorstep of the Olympics, top American curler Sarah Walker has lost her mixed doubles partner and her boyfriend in one fell swoop. Her coaches throw newbie Team U.S.A. curler Chuck Bartowski onto her team and thrust them into the Olympics, hanging America's curling hopes on two people who only have a short amount of time to learn to trust one another.
A/N: Oh, hi! You're all here! Cool cool cool cool cool. Welcome. Enjoy the chapter. Really, really enjoy it.
Disclaimer: I don't own this show. I don't own the characters in this show.
Sarah watched as Jane passed Chuck another highball, what had to be his third or fourth, on top of everything else he'd had. As was usually the case, he was already too far gone to notice how much he'd already drank, and he accepted it with a "Thank you, Sweet Jane" and a deep bow of his head.
At least he had the sense to sip this one.
"But this is what I don't understand, okay? Like, if you—hic—if you know the answer, please tell me, because this is shit I legit, like—it keeps me up at night sometimes. But ladybugs! Why are they called ladybugs when there's gotta be some male ladybugs, right? 'Cuz otherwise, where d'you get all the little ladybugs?" He shrugged in a very pronounced way.
"Ohhhh, bruuuhhh! Bruvvuh, you just blew me mind right there." Tyler held his head, his eyes wider than saucers. "Ya right, tho'. Where're the manbugs?"
Jane rolled her eyes at the men sitting together on the couch, both of them drunk. Chuck was drunk because his Olympic events were over and he deserved this. Tyler was drunk because he never listened to Graham about the don't-get-wasted-the-night-before-a-match rule. Ever. There was no way to change that about him, either.
"No, wait." Chuck held up a finger and then turned and gave Sarah a look, before dropping his hand on her knee and squeezing. It was an intimate gesture that she knew he wouldn't have done in mixed company were he sober. But she just played it off since she could feel Jane's smirk. What that was about, she didn't want to know.
"Wait, 'cuz…wait…No, we're looking at this backwards. Hear me out." He finally lifted his hand from her knee and she let out a slow breath. "There's no reason why an entire bug species can't be named ladybugs—like th-the whole thing encapsulating both sexes of the bug. Because dude, we have so many man terms that are just s'posed ta automatically include women in 'em. Like, there are a lot of cowboys that are ladies, right? Ladies ride horses and have hats and shoot guns and wear spurs that jingle jangle jingle…"
Morgan's voice rose over the nearby crowd as he shout-sang, "JIN-GLE JAN-GLE", then went back to his conversation.
"Chuck."
He swung just about his entire body around to look at her. "Yes, pardner…?" He used a Texas accent and made a very Clint Eastwood-esque face, tipping a nonexistent hat and squinting his eyes. Even drunk, he was stupidly hot when he did it.
"Cowgirls."
He blinked. "Oh shit, you're right."
Chuck and Tyler laughed for an unnecessarily long time, repeating "cowgirls" at each other over and over.
Sarah and Jane met gazes and as if they were of one mind, they both stood and started moving away from the drunken idiots. But she felt a hand wrap around hers and squeeze. She frowned, because she knew immediately that this hand was too small to belong to a man whose hands she knew rather well by now. And wasn't that just an odd feeling?
When she turned back, she found Tyler was holding onto her hand. "Now wait jez a tick, lovely. I've seen you dancin' wif everyone but me tonight. An' I'm feelin' a bit left out."
"Tyler, I haven't danced with anyone. The dance floor is way over there and I haven't been anywhere near it all night," she said patiently.
"Oh. Maybe I saw some ovvuh hot blonde." He burped quietly. "But hey listen, we been knowin' each ovvuh for so long. Why'd we never become a 'fing, eh? Once you go Brit, you—"
Chuck was there suddenly, crowding Tyler's space. He didn't even really have to say anything. He just stood staring at the Englishman. The much shorter man slowly turned to look at him.
"Y'all right, bruvvuh?"
"M'fine. Just think we should sit down. Let th'ladies get their drinks alone."
Tyler nodded. "Ya right, Charlie. Ya right. Enjoy, ladies."
Sarah bit the inside of her cheek and raised her eyebrows at her boyfriend, turning on her heel and walking away with Jane. She was afraid for a split second that Chuck would cause a scene or something ridiculous. That he would grab his teammate and shove him or hit him. She'd never seen Chuck this drunk and she had no idea what kind of a drunk he really was.
This had been quite the test, tonight. And so far he'd passed with flying colors.
He was a silly drunk.
And affectionate. She'd had to put distance between Chuck and herself on numerous occasions to make sure he didn't try to touch her or kiss her in a way he shouldn't in front of everyone. He'd thrown an arm over her shoulders and nearly nuzzled the side of her face, but she'd stepped away just in time, making it as graceful as possible. Then he'd tried to take her hand and instead she'd reached for her drink.
She hadn't really thought this out well enough. A drunken Chuck Bartowski would be even worse than a sober Chuck Bartowski when it came to not spilling the beans about their relationship.
But he'd passed an even more important test a moment ago, not causing a scene with Tyler and instead just talking the other man away from the situation…and after having just watched him hit on his girlfriend pretty blatantly, too.
There'd been no anger, in spite of the little spike of jealousy she'd seen in her partner's clenched jaw before he was impressively smooth and level-headed in helping her escape.
Jane glanced at her watch as they got to the bar. Then she motioned the bartender over.
"If that's for Chuck, don't. He's had enough."
"Mhm, I noticed you noticed."
Sarah made a face. "What's that supposed to mean?"
"You're taking care of him tonight. I keep seeing you glancing over and checking on him, keeping him in your sights." Her best friend smirked.
"And?" Sarah shrugged, keeping her features smooth. Jane arched an eyebrow and lowered her chin, then asked the bartender for two shots of tequila. "You know, being in the same apartment as someone with alcohol poisoning doesn't sound like a lot of fun," she said with a giggle. "So sue me for trying to avoid it."
"Mmmhm, okay. Okay, girl."
Sarah rolled her eyes and then gaped at Jane as the woman moved one of the shot glasses the bartender set down on the counter in front of the younger woman. "A shot? Now?"
"C'mon. We're both lame and sober and this isn't gonna change that. One for the road. A celebration just between girlfriends. To bronze medalist Sarah Walker. And Chuck."
Sarah giggled and lifted her shot up. "To the relationships made along the way."
Jane eyed her.
"What? Like our friendship. And your Swiss hockey player."
This time the other woman bit her lip and made a quiet growl sound. "Ooo. Thanks for reminding me of that. That man knows his way around—" She stopped herself and shook her head. "It's not for child ears."
The younger woman burst into laughter and gave her friend the middle finger, but at least she'd managed to distract her companion. They downed the shots quickly and Sarah hissed. That was good tequila.
"I hate to be the mom, but I think we need to round up the team and head back to the village. It's after three," Jane said then, paying the tab. Sarah tried to sneak a glance at it as Jane signed, noticing the woman had bought most of Chuck's drinks tonight.
Just what was this woman playing at trying to get her partner drunk?
She'd muse on it later because they had to corral their group to go home. Sarah found Anna upstairs after looking for a solid five minutes, discovering she'd been playing pool all night. And her pockets bulged suspiciously with what Sarah had a feeling was South Korean won. Best to get everyone out, and fast. Much faster than she'd originally planned to.
But when she'd come downstairs, looking for the rest of the group, Sarah saw Jane and Lou near the door, huddled close together, with much too serious for the current situation looks on their faces. What was that about, she wondered? Especially because she saw a surprised look come over Lou's face.
As Sarah neared the two women, the conversation seemed to end abruptly and Jane and Lou both had smiles that were too big. Sarah made a mental note of the suspicious incident.
Chuck ended up with his arm draped over his shoulder as they walked to the train, talking loudly with Morgan and Anna about why some video game system was better than another. He was holding tight to her, so she couldn't get out of it, so she put her hands on him to try to make it look like he needed help walking.
As they sat in the train, Chuck leaned a bit more against her side. "I wish we could'a brought our medals wiv uz. I never really got medals a lot fer stuff."
"You won two national chess championships, Chuck."
He blinked. "Thoze were trophies." He said it like that was such an obvious thing she should've known and she snorted. "Wait, waaait. How you know about the chess? I don't tell people about that."
"It's on your Wikipedia page, bud."
"I have one o' those?" He pressed his hands to his mouth in shock, looking almost like Edvard Munch's The Scream. She laughed and shook her head. But then he leaned in close, much closer than was really necessary with everyone else sitting right here. "And you went and read all about me? Hmmm. HMMMM!"
"Shhh."
By the time they got back to the Olympic Village it was close to four in the morning and those last drinks really hit Chuck. Hard. She could tell because he was suddenly very quiet and blinking a lot.
They all said their goodnights and Sarah wondered if she maybe shouldn't have let him drink this much. They had their ceremony to receive their medal tomorrow, after all.
And Zondra had called again after Chuck and Sarah moved on from the couch to bury themselves in her bed. She'd had to clamber off of him, out of the bed, and stagger out to grab her phone from her bag, holding the pillow she stole from under Chuck's head against her naked body as some form of modesty. They had an interview at NBC headquarters after the medal ceremony. It'd be best if he wasn't still drunk or horrifically hungover for it.
"I'm gonna be honest," he said then once they were alone, standing at the door to their apartment. "C'n I be honest wiv you?"
She smiled, having a hard time opening the door with so much of his weight on top of her, his arm draped around her. God, the poor guy could barely stand upright. Once she popped the door open, she helped him inside. "Yes, you can."
The door shut behind them and she made her way through the darkness towards the bedroom. He was really getting heavier and heavier. "I'm a li'l sad that Ellie 'n Awesome couldn't make it out."
"Well, Devon's competing early. And Ellie's got a trial run early, too."
"No, no. I know. I'm not mad at 'em. I jus' ne'er really get to spend lo'z ov time wiv 'em at home. I mean, we're all training all th'time and mannnn, my sister…when she's drunk….z'so funny."
She giggled, straining to get him onto his bed. She turned on the bedside lamp and tried to straighten him a little bit since he was almost sagging onto the floor. She didn't need him hungover and bruised tomorrow. …Again.
"One time she wuz at a sorority party…I wuz livin' wiv 'er still then at UCLA, before, erm, before Stanford. Zo I got to take care ov 'er when she wuz waaaasted." He giggled and squirmed in his bed. It was so cute she thought she might die. "She wuz so—wuz so hungover 'n tired negzt morning 'at she tried ta brush 'er hair wiv 'er toovbrush."
Sarah laughed with him and shook her head, grabbing his shoulders and making him sit up. "That's pretty bad."
"I know. Probably not somethin' I should tell people, though."
"Maybe not, but you can trust me with it."
"Oh, see? Thiz iz why'm so crazy about'chu. One ov th'many reazins, ov curse." He just blinked at her rapidly, and his eyes became all glassy and dreamy as she pushed and pulled the multiple layers of jackets and sweatshirts off of him, leaving him in a t-shirt and his jeans. "God, yer so pretty," he breathed, his tone sincere and breathless.
She smiled at him.
She had some misgivings about the next part, but she had already done this under entirely different circumstances so she thought he might not mind.
She let him lie back down, giggling as he made a jzzzooooooom and a fwoof sound effect as he tipped back flopped onto the bed, grinning like a little boy. And then she unbuttoned his jeans and unzipped them.
As she leaned down to jam her hands in the waistband and try to lift him while pulling his jeans down at the same time, knowing he probably wouldn't be much help, she was surprised to suddenly find herself swung over him and pinned on her back, the entire length of his strong, but lanky, body draped over hers. It was a bit…constrictive. "Uh…Chuck…" she squeaked out in a strained voice.
"You really can't get enuv o' me, can you?"
"That's probably true, but maybe not when you smell like you took a shower in whiskey. That isn't what's happening here," she had to rush out as his hips pushed down into hers.
He immediately stopped and awkwardly rolled off of her. "Oh. M'sorry. You went for my pantz an' I juz thought…" He winced as she rolled back over him and crawled to her feet beside the bed.
"It's okay," she giggled. "But the pants do need to come off if you want to be comfortable."
He arched his backside off the mattress and she gave his jeans a quick tug, getting them down to his ankles. But he still had his lace-up leather snow boots on. She huffed a little. Why he wore such difficult boots, she had no idea.
As she meticulously untied and unbuckled his right boot, having to tug to loosen the laces before pulling the boot off—and even that was a trial—she figured he'd fallen asleep.
But as she carefully and silently set his boot on the floor by the bed, his quiet voice interrupted the silence.
"Thiz iz juz like th'time I did thiz for you."
She was going to make a quip about him being a real talker when he was drunk, but then what he said hit her. She looked up at him, her hands poised on his other boot. "What?"
He gestured to his feet as she started unbuckling and untying again, tugging on the laces to try to loosen it enough to take it off. "You were really, really wasted. Like worz 'n me right now. I had to carry you from th'car to our apartment 'n put you 'n yer bed." He paused as she tugged his boot off and set it next to the other one. "I took your shoes off. Yer favorite orange Converse wiv th'blue laces. So cute. But also really sezzy, you need ta know."
Sarah smiled slowly. "They are my favorite."
"I know. You wear 'm all th'time at home."
She did remember now. She remembered very clearly suddenly. Even though she had been very drunk, she'd still been awake…And Chuck was fading fast. She snagged the sheets and made him get up just long enough to crawl under them. She hurried to get him a bottle of water, made him sit up to drink some and take aspirin, and then she laid him down again.
Yes, she remembered. He did remove her shoes that night. She remembered watching him in the dark, how he'd put her on her bed, looked around the room as though wondering what else he should do, then moved to leave. And she remembered him stopping before he got to the door and coming back, oh so gently untying her shoes and easing them off of her feet. She specifically remembered the pressure of his hand under her heel and the way his thumb stroked over her ankle so comfortingly as he slid the shoe off each foot.
She remembered waking up the next morning, hungover but heart-warmed to find he'd tucked her under the sheets, taken her shoes off…and set a glass of water and some aspirin by her bed. But then she also remembered lying there in a cold sweat because she thought maybe the crush she was starting to form on her new partner had just gotten worse. And she'd had this fear that maybe her crush on him leaked out when they were drinking. And oh God, had she flirted with him? She had to have flirted with him. But how bad?
And then he'd been completely normal when she'd finally wandered down the hallway to the kitchen. He hadn't expected anything, in spite of whether or not she'd flirted terribly with him. He'd just teased her about her hangover and made her eat the eggs and bacon and toast he'd prepared.
The other thing she remembered about that morning was that she'd stared across the table at him while he'd been tapping away at his phone, not noticing. And she'd had this unsettling realization that she really liked him. She'd really liked him a lot. Already. Oh no.
She smirked to herself as she turned his lamp off and started undressing in the dark, listening to the soft snoring coming from his bed.
She wasn't thinking "oh no" anymore.
In just two months, it had become a loud, ringing, "oh, yes."
-oooo-
Sarah checked her watch as she stood in the elevator on her way back up to her apartment. It was half past nine. They still had three hours before their medal ceremony. As she got off of the elevator on her floor, she had a large bag of McDonalds breakfast sandwiches, hash browns, and some fresh fruit she'd bought at the market in one hand, and a drink tray with coffee and juice for two in the other.
She had to set the food on the ground to get her key out and open the door, and she pushed her way inside precariously, closing the door behind her as carefully as possible with her foot.
She immediately went to the TV and turned it on, making sure it was on mute so as not to wake Chuck. She'd been following the Canada versus South Korea gold medal match since it started and figured it wouldn't hurt to watch while she she'd imagined might happen, the match was heading into the fourth End with Canada up five points to South Korea's one.
She'd just taken her second bite of her egg mcmuffin when she heard the sound of the bedroom door opening behind her. She turned around to watch as Chuck slowly eased out of the room, looking a bit like a nerdy, tousled vampire stepping into sunlight. Luckily, he did not turn into dust. Instead, he just pouted, squinting and standing there with slumped shoulders.
"There's my guy. Want a highball?"
He groaned and shuffled closer to her, shrugging on his striped zip-up sweatshirt that she thought made him look like the lead singer in a hipster band. "No."
She giggled and scooted over, patting the couch next to her. "Come watch this match with me. This'll be us in four years."
Chuck slumped onto the couch close to her with a tired huff, and then like his body didn't have even a single bone in it, he crumbled to the side and draped himself over her lower back so that he was in the cozy little valley her torso made with the couch. He shifted his arms so that he was hugging her low around her waist and sighed heavily.
"Comfy?" she asked over her shoulder.
"Yes." There was a pause. "Can we just cancel everything today so I can stay right here?"
She chuckled and reached down to squeeze his wrist that rested on her lap. "Sorry, no can do. Unless you don't want the bronze medal you busted your ass for?"
Her boyfriend whined pitifully. "Can you pick it up for me?"
Sarah set her food down on the wrapper and set that on the coffee table, then leaned back to crush him a bit more, swiveling a bit so she could look down at his face that was nuzzled up against her hip. "I'm not your mom dropping your homework off because you're 'too sick' to go to school," she teased, making air quotes even though his eyes weren't opened.
She giggled quietly and went to break off a piece of her hash brown to eat. She'd just tossed it between her lips when he muttered a soft, "Nah, I don't have one of those."
Sarah sat up a bit straighter and half turned from the TV, swallowing her food. "What?"
"A mom." He groaned and buried his face even more against her. "God, sorry. Ignore me. Please. That shouldn't've even—"
"Wait, you really don't have…I mean, you and Ellie…Where is she? I mean your mom. Did she—?" She stopped abruptly.
"Die? Nah. My Wikipedia page didn't tell you this?"
She shook her head, gaping down at him. "No, it doesn't have any of your personal life stuff. Just your competitions and schooling and crap. I mean, same with mine, for that matter. I'd like to keep it that way. But…your mom…"
He frowned deeply and opened his eyes, and then he slowly pushed himself to sit up. "Hey, listen, I—Can we maybe put this conversation off for a bit? Not that I don't wanna tell you all about that whole…I mean, my childhood and crap. I just…I think today should be about hangovers and celebration."
Sarah let out a soft giggle through her nose and put a hand on the back of his neck, stroking him there tenderly. In spite of her brain roaring in curiosity, her heart racing, feeling a stupid need to protect him even though she really had no idea what his story was, she nodded and said, "Of course, Chuck. Whenever you're ready."
Chuck's smile was enough for her to shove that curiosity down to the deepest recesses of her being. It was warm and so grateful, and relieved she thought. Yikes…
"So, who is win—Oh, Canada! Big surprise." He squinted. "I still can't see well. Is that five to three?"
"It's five to three, Canada. Halftime."
He yawned so intensely that she thought she heard his jaw pop, and then his hand lifted to point at the food. "That's food," he grumbled. "Is that food for me?"
She pulled her hand from where she'd been massaging the back of his neck and she grabbed her food, starting to eat again. "Mm mm. Nope. I got four sandwiches and four hash browns just for me."
Then she laughed and reached over to pick up one of the coffees. "This is yours, just how you like it. That'll help a bit with your hangover. And the food will definitely settle your stomach. Nice and greasy."
He made a face and sipped the coffee, humming in satisfaction. "Nah, drinking doesn't do anything to my stomach. When I get hangovers, it's just headache and tired-times. And I can sometimes be kinda grumpy."
"Is that to compensate for how jolly and happy you are when you're drunk?"
He immediately grabbed one of the hash browns and gobbled half of it down in three seconds. Then he stopped mid-chew. "Wait…" He swallowed. "Do I have anything I need to apologize for?"
She snorted. "You were a perfect gentleman. Only tried to have sex with me the one time, but you stopped when I told you I was only taking your pants off to make you more comfortable."
Chuck gave her a sleepy flat look that didn't quite have the same effect, especially with how messy his hair was and the delicious stubble on his jaw and chin. "Not that. Although, uh, sorry about that. Apologies. No, I meant did I—did I tell anyone our secret?"
"Which one is that?" she flirted.
"That we're doin' the dirty."
Sarah burst into laughter and shoved him, diving into the bag and half throwing the sausage egg biscuit she knew he preferred into his lap. "Eat your breakfast."
He chuckled and unwrapped the sandwich, devouring it. She was almost tempted to tell him to chew before swallowing. "You didn't answer the question, though. I didn't spill the beans on us being together, did I?"
"You didn't. You were a good boy. Wasted. Embarrassing here and there. And um…honestly, you kept trying to be affectionate with me. But I managed to side step most of it without anyone being the wiser."
Chuck winced. "Shit, sorry. I guess I just like ya and like showing it."
She melted at that and let him see it. "Don't think I'm complaining about that. Because I'm not." She checked her watch. "We've got a few hours here 'til the medal ceremony and in that time, feel free to show you like me however you want. I mean, go crazy."
He laughed and finished his first sandwich. "If my body didn't feel like I'm moving underwater or on some sort of mega-gravity planet in another solar system, I'd totally go crazy like I did last night." He growled and leaned in, making her laugh and bat him away. "Alas."
"Poor nerd." Then she paused. "Poor me, too."
His laughter lifted her spirits significantly, which was saying something. She also liked that in spite of his teasing about their activities the night before, she could see the tinge of pink on his cheeks and neck. She could kiss him for it. But he was already going through the bag for the other hash brown and sandwich, shoving the former into his mouth so that he had both hands free to dig.
"Take whichever one you want," she giggled, still slowly munching on her first sandwich.
"Are they different?"
"Mhm, but I don't care."
"Well, I don't wanna take the one you want." All it took was a flat look and he winced sheepishly, just grabbing one and unwrapping it. "This is fine."
As he started eating it again, she gestured to the TV. "Oh look, Canada takes that End as well. Two points."
"Well, color me shocked."
Eventually Chuck went to take a shower to wake himself up a bit more, changing into his Team U.S.A. garb for the ceremony and joining her on the couch again. He was quick enough that he was back on the couch by the time the final match was forced to an extra End.
"No waaaaaay!" He slid in next to her, scooting in close so that their hips touched, and leaning forward to gape at the TV. "Man, props to South Korea. Did Choi work some kind of magic or something?"
"Stole three points, then scored another four."
"What a bad ass."
"Right?"
Chuck surprised her then by climbing down to spread himself across the couch. He was going to put his head in her lap and then he stopped himself, peering up at her. "You mind?"
She shook her head wordlessly, accepting his head in her lap and draping an arm over his chest, her other hand playing with his curls that were just a little damp from his shower.
He hummed in satisfaction and his eyes slipped closed. "This is nice," he muttered softly, and she felt herself turn to absolute mush as he turned his face and nuzzled her stomach. "When we get home, let's do more of this…minus the hangover," he slurred sleepily.
His breathing evened out then. She felt it under her hand she still had positioned on his chest and she smiled, looking down at his face. For someone who boasted about how good he was about hangovers, he was obviously way more tired than he'd thought.
Also, he was way cuter than he thought.
And his eyelashes were really long.
And he was easily the sweetest human being she'd ever met in her entire life. Not that he was a saint or anything. She had it on good authority he was capable of being bad. Pretty bad, too. Surprisingly (and deliciously) bad.
She shook herself a bit, though, because that wasn't the line of thinking she needed at the moment. They had work to do today, and then she had work to do after that. A lot of work, because tomorrow was her first match with the women's team, and they had something to prove, damn it.
Sarah dropped her gaze to Chuck's profile again. She could feel the warmth of his breath against her abdomen, his face still turned into her. And she thought about that quiet admission about his mother. He didn't have a mother. Were he and Ellie in foster care growing up? And what about his father? Where was he?
She felt like a bad friend, suddenly. They'd been so focused on the Olympics, on training, and unfortunately, on the awkward almost kiss in Mammoth and the repercussions of it after, that she hadn't even thought about the fact that he never mentioned family besides Ellie. She knew nothing about this man's background before his trip to Sochi four years ago. Even beyond that, she knew he liked science fiction and fantasy movies, she remembered something about Morgan making him into a martial arts film enthusiast, too. He liked comics and video games. He was good with technology. How did he earn money before they were offered this contract?
God, he was her boyfriend now. This man lying with his head snuggled up against her, using her thighs as a pillow, was her boyfriend and she knew almost nothing about his life outside of this. It was madness.
But it still felt so right.
He must know even less about her than she did him. Talking about herself was…difficult was a nice way of putting it. He was much more open than she was. But he didn't ask or push.
They were just enjoying for now.
And he'd been resistant and uncomfortable about telling her anything having to do with his mother once he'd slipped and told her he didn't have one, so she wouldn't push him, either.
She'd just wonder silently to herself and keep stroking his hair. She'd continue to do things that felt good just because they felt good…something she'd never been allowed to do ever before. She hadn't allowed herself.
Which was foolish.
But then again, she hadn't been with Chuck then. And he made her feel like she could be herself and just enjoy things with no restrictions. Without shame. It was so liberating.
Chuck was liberating.
So she would just sit here, letting him sleep on her lap, feeling liberated.
-oooo-
The lights were so bright it was legitimately stupid, Chuck decided, trying not to wince as he and Sarah filed out behind the South Korea team and the Canada team.
That nap his partner had so very kindly allowed him to take on her lap had almost made him more tired, and there was still a dull throb in his head. Sarah admitted to him that Jane kept handing him drinks to help him celebrate the night before. And while he appreciated the other woman having his back like that, he would need to have a bit of a word with her later.
Mostly teasing. But not entirely.
Because this was rough.
He needed to power through, nevertheless. He owed it to Sarah and he owed it to himself. This was the real medal ceremony. He was getting an Olympic medal, and the woman at his side would be his real partner. (And girlfriend, but that wasn't something he was allowed to tell anyone, damn it.)
Chuck didn't even wonder what Jill thought about his being here, winning an Olympic medal, or if she had regrets, if she was bitter…Because he didn't care about her existence at all anymore. Why should he when he knew there were women who were monumentally better than she'd ever be?
But also fuck Jill Roberts.
And he found himself grinning as they all stepped up onto their respective podiums, because Sarah actively took his hand and lifted it up over their heads. They waved at the cheering crowd, not really able to see any of it, the lights were so damn bright, and he tried so hard not to show just how crazy he was about the woman at his side as they lowered their arms and met gazes.
"Is this not the best hangover you've ever had, though?" she asked, and he laughed.
"Easily the best!"
She let go of his hand then as the officials came over with their bronze medals. He watched Sarah lean down so that they could slip it over her head. He did the same when they got to him, and as he straightened to his full height again, he immediately picked it up in his hand and gazed at it, running his thumb over the grooves of the pattern engraved into it.
He didn't pay attention to the South Koreans receiving their silver medals, or the Canadians receiving their gold medals. He just stared down at his medal, cradling it in his hands.
When the Canadian anthem started playing, Sarah had to give him a little nudge. He dropped the medal back to his chest and folded his hands together behind his back, looking up at the flags respectfully. God, but the lights were up there and they were bright and that sort of hurt.
The anthem ended and he clapped with the audience, engaging in one last little waving session, accepting their flowers and the adorable little stuffed white tiger, before they filed out again.
"For someone who just received an Olympic medal, you look a little bit like you're miserable, bud," Sarah murmured to him as they looked for their Team U.S.A. handlers who were taking care of them for the day.
"I'm ecstatic. I promise." He huffed. "But I really don't think those lights had to be so bright."
She giggled, anything she might've replied with interrupted when she frowned and pulled her buzzing phone out of her pocket. "Oh…Here we go, it's Zondra. Interview time."
She answered it. "Hi. Interview time?"
Her smile dimmed a bit, Chuck noticed as he guided her over to their handlers. Even as he spoke with them, he kept one eye and one ear on Sarah.
"Uh, yeah, they better not even think they're gonna sick him on us. We're trying to celebrate and then we have to sit down with a deserter to talk about it? That's bullshit."
They got into the back of a car and it took off towards the building where NBC set up their studio for the duration of the games.
"Yeah, we're on our way now, but you're sure they aren't gonna just do it anyway?" She widened her eyes and bit her lip, looking at Chuck as though she was trying not to laugh. "I mean, I'm not sure the language was necessary, Z, but I kinda liked it."
She grinned again. "Okay, good. I can handle Mike Tucker. He's good people." Sarah paused one last time. "Yeah, we're fine. And thank you, Z. Seriously. Glad you've got our backs."
As his partner hung up, she huffed and leaned her head back against the seat, her eyes slipping shut.
"Let me guess," he said in a flat tone. "NBC just tried to make us do our bronze medal interview with Bryce Larkin because the juice would be extra juicy."
"You got it," she sang in an annoyed voice. "God, these people are such assholes." Then she sat up and reached a hand out to put it on the back of the seat in front of her. "Uh, no offense," she called up to the front.
The woman who'd been handling them all day for NBC snorted and looked over her shoulder. "None taken."
Sarah still winced and sat back against her seat, seemingly not willing to discuss it further. But he had questions.
"So…we aren't doing it, though, right?"
"They relented because Zondra is a bad ass at her job, and instead Mike Tucker is going to interview us."
"He interviews all of the athletes, anyway! He's who they should've had do it in the first place."
"I know that, but they wanted the drama of my ex-partner and ex-boyfriend interviewing me about my bronze medal I won with a new partner and…" Her voice faded out before she said and new boyfriend but Chuck knew that was what she'd been about to say. "They don't get that satisfaction. And he won't get it, either. So, ha."
"Yeah. Ha!"
They were quiet the rest of the way to the studio, and even when they got inside and were led through the halls, up the staircases, and into the room with the beautiful view of the Olympic square out of the large windows, the comfortable living room setting with the couches, and Mike Tucker laughing with one of the crew off to the side.
As Chuck was practically accosted by a man in a headset, having a mic attached to his shirt collar and asking him a bunch of questions, he felt a sudden open-handed thump on his back.
"Well, Bartowski! Bronze medal, huh?"
He jumped a bit and turned to see NBC's jolliest journalist standing there with a box of donuts in his hand. "Boy, I saw that last game of yours. What a crazy shot! Crazy shot. Have a donut before we go on. We've got fifteen minutes. Men's alpine is live now. Can you believe they put off the women's for the weather? This weather is really somethin', ain't it?"
Chuck gawked for a moment, his hungover brain taking a moment to catch up.
But it did latch onto the word donut, and the sight of the scrumptious sweets in the box held open for him. "What d'ya got in there, Mike?"
"I've got three bear claws."
"You've got three bear claws?"
"Yep."
"Have you seen a doctor?"
Everybody in the general area cracked up and Sarah rolled her eyes as they clipped the mic onto her shirt. "Oh dear God. Help me."
"You're funny!" Mike said as Chuck took a glazed old-fashioned out and took a huge bite out of it. "I like you, son!" Then he turned. "Donut for you, Sarah?"
She smiled and shook her head. "I'll take you up on it after the interview, Mike. Thanks."
"You got it. Hey, fellas, save our medalist a donut or two, huh?"
Mike Tucker handed the box off and had them follow him onto the set. People with makeup brushes and combs suddenly swept in, fixing Chuck's hair, taking the shine off of his face. Somehow it made him sweat even more, but at least the headache was mostly gone. He just felt a little overwhelmed, tired, almost loopy.
Or maybe it was just the excitement of the day.
Or maybe he was starting to realize for the first time that he was about to go live on air, being interviewed in a controlled environment and asked questions he wasn't sure how to answer. And he couldn't just let Sarah take the brunt of it this time, the way he had in those impromptu interviews after matches.
This was stressful. It reminded him of the scene in Wayne's World when they were going live with the big production company and none of the regular guys could figure out how to count down the proper way—
"Hello, and welcome back to our studio!" Oh shit! "I'm Big Mike Tucker, live from PyeongChang, South Korea, and I'm sitting here with bronze medalists in mixed doubles curling, Sarah Walker and Chuck Bartowski. Welcome to the set, Sarah…Chuck…"
"It's good to be here," Sarah said smoothly, her smile impressively sincere.
Chuck just grinned toothily with a, "Yeah! Hi!"
Mike chuckled. "Boy, can you believe it? First medal in United States history for curling belongs to you two. Congratulations on such a fantastic accomplishment."
"Thank you, Mike," Sarah chirped. "It's really…overwhelming."
"I can imagine! Chuck, how 'bout you? Anythin' better than this?" Mike asked, turning to face Chuck.
He shrugged, his filter on the fritz. "Well, there is the silver and the gold medal."
Some of the behind the scenes folks off to the side laughed, and Mike held his belly, chuckling. Sarah shook her head, giving him a flat look but still smiling in amusement.
"You aren't wrong, son."
"I mean, not that this isn't super important," Chuck rushed, wincing with a bit of a chuckle. "It's a dream come true, really."
"You've been to the Olympics before."
"Yep. I was at Sochi."
"And for a…shall we say, drastically different event? Ski jump and curling couldn't be more different."
"You're right about that, Mike. I mean, there have been a few changes, upgrades if you will, to the sport of curling. That's how we now have mixed doubles in the Olympics for the first time ever. But I don't think we'll see them add any hundred foot free-falls into curling anytime soon." Chuck widened his eyes and pressed his lips together.
Mike laughed, wiping at his eye. "That's quite an image."
"Nobody wants a forty-pound stone flying at them through the air, either."
Once the laughter died down a bit, Mike dove back into the event, asking them how on Earth they managed to gel so quickly, what with how soon before the games they were slammed together by the federation.
Chuck wisely kept his mouth shut, looking to Sarah.
"Yeah," she said in a sigh, adjusting in the couch next to him. "We really only had about eight weeks to even teach Chuck how to play mixed doubles. You know, there are so many rules that are different from the team event."
"That's right. Only eight Ends as opposed to ten. You only throw five rocks instead o' eight…"
"Exactly. The sixth rock is already in position before you start playing each End."
"You never played mixed doubles before that?" Mike asked.
"Nope. I did an eight week crash course with Sarah and our coaches."
"Man, that is nuts! Sarah, you've been curling professionally now for over a decade." She nodded modestly. "Chuck, how long for you? You're pretty new to the sport, aren't you?"
He took a deep breath. "I started about two years ago."
"Two years!" The host whistled and shook his head. "But you were on the team even less time than that, weren't you?"
"Uh, that's right, probably…" He glanced at Sarah for help. "Six months maybe? I joined in late summer. I should say I was, um, recruited by our coach."
Mike held up a hand then. "No offense, of course, but they pulled a kid who'd only been curling with the U.S. team for six months to be on this mixed doubles Olympic team. What kind of crazy move was that?"
Chuck laughed. "Trust me, I have no idea."
"They obviously saw something special in him and they weren't wrong," Sarah cut in, and Chuck was very careful not to look at her or blush, merely smiling humbly.
"You said 'they', Sarah. Sounds like you had some doubts," Mike joked.
"Hey, yeah! Thanks so much!" Chuck joined in, turning to chuckle at her as she sat forward and barked out a laugh.
She reached over to grab his arm and squeeze. "No! That isn't what I meant!" Sarah shook her head. "No, he was the new guy and none of us had really seen a lot from him yet. A few bonspiels and practices but…It-It was just surprising that they went for the newest member, the one person on the team who'd curled for the shortest amount of time. For all intents and purposes, someone like John Casey on the men's team, who's been curling for decades, would have been a lot easier to teach mixed doubles, you'd think."
"She's right," Chuck said. "I honestly was out of my mind with confusion when they called me in to ask if I'd consider it."
"Did you have to think long?" the other man asked.
"Uh, no." They all laughed. "No, when someone invites you to be on an Olympic team, I think it's in your best interest to say yes and then figure out what in the heck they were thinking later."
"Lucky for me," Sarah chirped.
"You two did seem to work really well together as a team. And only getting to train together for a few weeks. How'd you manage it?"
"We spent every last second of every day together, pretty much," Chuck teased. "It sounds like I'm exaggerating, but I'm really not. Everything was done together. We had to train, work out, train some more, carpool…"
"Is it true the federation made you share an apartment?"
Sarah huffed in amusement. "Um, yeah. Yeah, two bedrooms, one bathroom and a kitchen."
"Two TV sets though, thank God, because I think if Sarah had to watch even one more sci-fi b-movie from the nineteen-fifties, she was going to quit the whole thing."
She made an annoyed sound and rolled her eyes. "He acts like I complained. But I didn't. They're…interesting movies," she giggled.
Mike laughed. "Well, let's skip a few months. You're in the last End of the bronze medal match and all you have to do is bump one of Norway's rocks out of counting position and you win the game, the medal. Instead, you throw the craziest shot I think I saw all tournament. Son, what on Earth was going through your mind, doing that?"
Chuck laughed and shook his head, thrusting his hands out in a helpless shrug. "I don't know, I just…" He bit his lip thoughtfully. "I just really hated the idea of losing that last End, even if it still meant winning the game and the medal. I hated it. And it isn't really an ego thing or for my pride. But I saw a way for us to potentially win the End and the game. And I guess I just wanted to see if I could make a shot that was that ambitious."
"Well, it was crazy and you made it."
Sarah sat forward a bit. "The thing that really makes Chuck as good as he is, even as someone who's relatively new to curling, is that his brain sees the curling sheet as…I dunno, wouldn't you say you see it as a sort of equation? An equation you have to solve?"
"Yeah. That's a really good way of putting it," he said, sending her a smile. "And there are a lot of equations. So if I ever think of anything that's too out there, I rely on my partner to sort of…reel me back."
Sarah chuckled with a nod. "That's really been the key to our success in this tournament, I think. The way we complement one another. Chuck is, no offense Chuck, in the clouds."
"No, you're right," he said quickly, and they all laughed at that. "I was born in the clouds practically. Never was quite able to pull myself out of 'em."
She giggled and shook her head. "I just mean that he's always thinking of these madcap shots we can try. Things I would never even think of, let alone try during an official match. It's really opened my eyes to what's possible, taking risks, not always playing it safe."
"Yeah, but on the other hand, she keeps me grounded if I ever get a little overzealous. You know, if I suggest an impossible shot." He turned to look at her, suddenly feeling a lot more comfortable with this interview. If he could spend his time just talking about why Sarah was the best partner ever, why they worked so well together, how unnecessarily talented she was and smart and sweet and funny and beautiful…he'd be totally fine.
"Oh, I have no problem telling you you're crazy."
"Nope!" He giggled and squirmed in the couch happily.
"It was the Denmark match, I think, right?" She turned back to Mike. "This guy," she said, throwing her thumb in his direction, "wants to throw a promotion to get us five points in one End, but there was no way that would ever have been possible. Just no freaking way. And I literally had to grab him by the shoulders," she reached out and made the movements in the air in front of her, "and say 'NO.'"
Chuck let out a snort. "If I'd tried that shot, I would've wrecked the whole match. See? She keeps me from being a total idiot."
"Only when it benefits me."
He rocked forward with laughter. "Touché."
"That brings me to this banter you two got goin' on. You've really made yourselves into fan favorites with the way you chattered out on that ice. I think a lot of folks who never would've bothered watching curling tuned in just to witness your back and forth. There are memes out there, you know…" Mike tilted his chin down and looked at them through his eyelashes.
"Uh, yeah…our teammates have been teasing us with 'em. We know some of what's out there." Chuck turned to point at the camera. "We see you," he said, narrowing his eyes, then he turned back. "But I mean, I can't speak for my partner, but I'm a bit of a chatterbox and it really calms me down, settles me, to run my mouth out on the ice." He chuckled. "It helps me forget there are millions of people watching and I can just be myself."
"Chuck made me into a talker. I used to be silent with…my old partner. Unless we talked about the plays. I dunno, it's a lot more fun. And if everyone out here's been enjoying it then that's all the better." Sarah shrugged.
"Well, congratulations to both of you. We're really proud of you here at the studio, and you've made all the folks back home proud, too. Sarah, good luck with the women's team tomorrow."
"Thank you! Thanks so much."
"Sarah Walker and Chuck Bartowski, bronze medalists in mixed doubles curling." Mike turned his body towards the camera. "Coming up next, we'll show you highlights of the women's slopestyle final."
There was a loud "And we're clear!" before there was more hustle and bustle, their mics being unclipped and whisked away. Mike thanked them, offered them more donuts, and they were politely guided off set by crew members to where their handler awaited.
Chuck ended up with three donuts stacked in a napkin in his hand as they were finally taken outside and put in the back of the car that would drop them off at their building again.
Sarah turned from where she sunk back against the seat and let out a long sigh, laughing as she looked down at his donuts.
"Seriously?"
"You were being all polite and whatnot, refusing a donut, so I thought I'd get a few extra for you to have. I made a sacrifice and looked like a total glutton for you. So pick which one ya want, I'll eat the second one, and we can split the third."
She giggled and shook her head at him, meeting his gaze. He didn't know if the driver was looking at them, if she could even see them in her mirror, and he didn't care, because Sarah was giving him one of those warm looks of hers. The one that made him think this was really, really good. Exceptionally good.
And then her blue eyes flicked down to the donuts in his hand. "Let's split the long one first."
He grinned. "Oh, excellent choice, Miss Walker. Excellent choice."
He handed her an extra napkin and the other two donuts, meticulously tearing the "long one" in half.
"Now, do you want the big half? Or the little half?"
Her laughter rang through the car.
A/N: I use that line as often as I possibly can in my Chuck fic because seriously, as if I wasn't already melting in that scene when Chuck opts not to ask Sarah any questions about her past...he gives her such a charming freaking line about sharing the hamburger right before the fade-out and I'm like IIIII LOOOOOVE HIIIIIIIM SOOOO MUUUUCH.
Anyway, I'd love a review! I can't promise Big Mike will share his donuts with you if you don't, that's all I'm sayin'. (wink)
-SC