The Detective and the Tech Guy

Author: Steampunk . Chuckster

Rating: T

Summary: A case of mistaken identity and murder brings Sarah Walker, Pinkerton agent, to sunny California. Protecting the heir to the Bartowski Electronics Corporation should be just business - but Chuck Bartowski fills out a suit nicely and makes a mean martini. Chuck lobbied to hire the Pinkerton Agency, but had no idea the detective they'd send would be as alluring, intelligent and fascinating as Sarah Walker. Will the detective and the tech guy solve the mystery, distracted by the riddle in their own hearts? An homage to The Thin Man movies.

Disclaimer: No money is being made from this story. I don't own Chuck or The Thin Man series.

Author's Note: Enjoy part 2! Thanks for the reviews, folks. It's appreciated.

XOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXO

The Detective Versus the Assistant, Part 2

Chuck Bartowski wasn't sure why, but he felt a certain something in his chest while watching his private investigator gather things into her briefcase and prepare to leave the office. Maybe because it was a piece of her life he hadn't been privy to before now. A small chunk of Sarah Walker's existence she was letting him into.

Not that she really had much of a choice. He'd forced today on her. And he'd be back tomorrow, no doubt.

She'd borne it like a champion. She'd shown him patience and she'd tolerated his antics. He'd even caught her giggling to herself across the room as she filed a report in the filing cabinet, usually after he'd said something dumb while talking to himself over the research he was conducting.

And now she was shoving things in her briefcase, shutting down her desktop computer, slipping her laptop into its sleeve…

He stood at the threshold between her office and the outer office, leaning his shoulder against the doorframe, just watching quietly, a small smile on his face.

"Sorry, just a second," she said in a rushed breath as she turned on her heel and looked around, as if trying to determine if she was forgetting anything.

They spent all day pouring over documents and records of both Macklin himself and of his construction company, as Sarah advised Chuck on how to put the information in dossier form. She'd called it the "boring" stuff television and movies never show you, but Chuck had enjoyed every moment of it. Maybe it was just the company, and the fact that when he tried to go work at "his" desk in the other room, she'd teasingly pouted at him to get him to stay on the other side of her desk to do his work, in the same room as her.

Also, as her personal assistant, he'd elected himself as the "official bringer backer of the food", heading out in search of sustenance for the both of them, coming back with his arms full of burgers, fries, salads, and shakes galore. They'd feasted, and soon after, Sarah had looked like her eyelids were drooping as she clicked around on her computer, so he'd convinced her to take a nap. Granted, it had taken him twenty-five minutes to convince her, and he'd watch her go from giving him a you're joking look, to denying she was even tired, to saying it was unprofessional, to finally curling up on the couch pushed against the wall adjacent to the window.

He'd covered her legs and feet with his wool suit jacket, glad to have the thing off, and knowing how having cold feet made her uncomfortable when she was sleeping.

When she'd woken up, she'd teasingly draped the jacket over his head, looking much more refreshed and spry, happier, and the grateful kiss he'd gotten was worth everything.

"I'm not in a rush," he said, chuckling at her.

"I am. I'm hungry."

"Where are we eating?"

She grimaced at him and he sighed. "Actually, um…I'm eating at home tonight. I have leftovers I need to eat."

"Passed over for leftovers. Ouch." He winked. "Or is it, really, that you just spent aaallllllll day with me crowding your work bubble and now you need a break." Sarah looked up at him with a frown and he chuckled good-naturedly. "It's perfectly understandable. You weren't ready for me to show up and do this today, and as patient as you were all day, I know I can be kind of annoying with my goofball antics, especially if you're around it for hours on end, especially especially when you're trying to work."

"You weren't annoying," she said, tilting her head. "You asked some pretty good questions actually, and those extra skills of yours we aren't going to talk about just in case came in handy at least once." She winked.

"We aren't talking about it because there might be people listening in?" he asked, eyes going wide.

"No. Please. I bug check every morning I walk into this place."

"YOU DO?!" It was all he could do not to bounce up and down and clap his hands in excitement like a teenaged girl.

She laughed, shaking her head. "Yeah, of course. But I don't want to talk about it because every time we do, it gets me all riled up and I'm too hungry for food to get involved in more of those fooling around on my desk shenanigans like this morning."

Chuck gasped. "Oh my God, you're so bad."

"You bring out the worst in me." She gave him a slow, seductive wink. Then she lifted her briefcase into her hand, shouldered her messenger bag and smiled. "Ready to go?"

"I am."

She followed him out past "his" desk and to the door that led into the hallway. "And for the record, I'm not trying to get out of dinner with you. I'm just trying not to waste food."

"That's commendable, Sarah." He grinned. "I was just teasing you."

"If you want to bring your food to my place and eat with me, you can." She raised her eyebrows at him, leaning back against the door, key in hand.

That was such a comforting prospect and he nearly agreed. But instead he wrinkled his nose and sighed. "I don't want to look extra needy."

She threw her head back with a laugh. "You're only worried now about looking extra needy?"

"Wow. Woooowwwww," he drawled, laughing. But it had actually stung just a little. It must've shown on his face because she quickly reached out and squeezed his arm reassuringly.

"Oh nooo, Chuuuck." She gave him a soft look, tilting her head. "I'm just teasing you. You're not needy. I was just flirting. I'm sorry. That was mean, even if it was just teasing." She moved up onto her tiptoes and kissed him apologetically.

"Nah, I know you're teasing. Pfft." He cleared his throat, feeling better after her reassurance. "Be that as it may, I think I'll give you a good twelve-plus hours without me so that you miss me a little bit before you see me again in the morning."

She arched her brow. "Before I see you again in the morning? Oh, really…?"

"Mhm," he hummed, following her out into the hallway, flicking the light off in the office as he went.

Sarah locked the office door, both locks securely, he noticed, and she turned to face him, that gorgeous brow still arched as she slung her free arm through his. "You didn't say this job was for more than one day, I don't think."

"Was I supposed to write up a contract? Sheesh."

"What I mean is…this wasn't part of the bet."

"I think it was."

"Mmmmm I don't think it was, actually."

They walked down the hallway towards the elevators, arm in arm. "Well, either way, I'm going to be here bright and early to assist you. Whatever you need, I'm going to be here."

Sarah reached over with the hand holding the briefcase and poked the button with her finger. "I know. You always are." She turned to look up at him, propping her chin against his shoulder. "Teasing aside, you did a whole lot today and I appreciate it."

"A lot of trying your patience?"

"Only a little bit of that," she giggled, pinching his arm through his jacket as they stepped into the elevator. "I'm just not used to having someone around when I'm at the office. But it's okay. I mean it. You did some great research and I'm kind of impressed."

"I found out about Mark and his troubles with tax evasion."

"You did! That's actually very pertinent information I have to keep in mind tomorrow when he comes for his appointment."

"I'll be there to take notes for you. Not shorthand."

She snorted. "Oh, will you now?"

He shook his head, grinning down at her. "I'm not really going to do that. This is a potential new client and it's important for you and the agency. I'll stay out in my own office." Even if he'd give anything to be in the room, listening to the case, being Sarah's assistant in every possible way.

The elevator arrived at the bottom floor and she stepped out first, turning so that she was walking backwards, away from him, but facing him, and holding onto his hand to pull him with her.

Affection shone in her face as she smiled at him. "Thank you, Chuck."

"Unless you need me to be there for some reason of course."

She laughed, turning back around and nuzzling herself up against his side. He wrapped his arm around her shoulders and pulled her in tight, kissing her head.

They got to her car first and he walked her around to the door, pressing himself close to the vehicle in case other cars were passing by too close. And he leaned in to kiss her warmly.

"Thank you for being such a good sport. I hope you know that I really do take your work seriously. I want your agency to thrive. I want you to thrive. It's also just that it's incredibly cool and I relish getting to be a part of it. Even the so-called 'boring' stuff." He tossed air quotes up.

Sarah just smiled back and sighed, shaking her head at him. "I know."

Then she held up a finger and opened up the driver's side door, swinging her briefcase and messenger bag across the console and onto the passenger seat before she turned to straighten up and face him again, slinging her arms around his shoulders and kissing him hard.

When they finally pulled back, the chilly night air making him shiver in her arms, she nuzzled his nose. "Know what?" she muttered. He raised his eyebrows. "I think I will miss you."

"Good." She widened her eyes, amusement on her face as if she hadn't been expecting that response. And then he dove in to nuzzle her neck, pressing kisses there as she clung to him and laughed.

Thirty minutes later, he was home, picking through his own fridge for leftovers or something else he might be able to eat, when a thought occurred to him.

He let himself work it out in his head for a few minutes as he tossed the Tupperware of leftovers in the microwave, the adrenaline building in his chest as he began to make name connections, wondering if his dad would be open to giving him some information if he called him tonight.

And he decided fuck it, grabbing his hot Tupperware, a fork, a glass of wine, and his phone, sitting at his bar to eat. It felt…weird eating at his table when Sarah wasn't eating with him. Or Morgan, or Ellie, or anyone else. Just weird. Though, he supposed that hadn't really been something he'd ever thought much about until he had shared that table with Sarah.

He pulled his dad up on his phone and called, waiting for the ring, ring, ring to end in a click and his dad's voice. But it went to voicemail instead.

"Hey, Dad. It's your son. Just calling to see if you've ever heard of or done business with a certain guy who has a certain company. Trying to get a clear view of what kind of a person he is and how he does business. Give me a call when you have the time. No rush. Thanks, pops. Love ya."

Chuck hung up the phone and set it on the table, shoveling some spaghetti into his mouth, cutting the meatball in half with his fork and shoving that in as well.

Then he grabbed his phone again and called his favorite detective.

She answered after the second ring.

"Can't get enough of me, can you?" She was huffing and puffing in a way that was…definitely not usual.

He made a confused face. "You okay? What are you doing?"

"I went for a pre-dinner run. I'm in the middle of it."

"Oh. Shit, I'm sorry. I can call you back when you're done."

"No, no, no. No, this is good. I have a cramp in my calf and I need to stretch it out anyway so it's good timing. What's up?"

"Okay, so I did all of that research on Macklin and his construction company today and I had all of that information just swirling around in my head. I was getting my dinner ready and something struck me."

"It's 'cause you're so tall."

He narrowed his eyes. "What?"

"You said something struck you. I figured you walked into something 'cause you're so tall. Nothing, ignore me. I'm just trying to pull a Chuck and be a dork but it didn't land."

Chuck cracked up. "Oh I get it. That wasn't half bad actually."

"Well, if you liked it, I definitely need to rethink my choices."

"Hey!" he chuckled. "Could we keep on task here so that you can get back to your run and eat since you told me you were so hungry…"

"I did, didn't I? And hey, when did this happen? When did you start being the one who makes us get back on task and I'm the class clown?"

"That's…a good question."

"I'm full of 'em. But sorry. Go on. What struck you?"

"That name. Mark Macklin. Specifically the son of a man named Merritt Macklin, I feel like I've seen it before. Or I've heard the name."

"You mean like you've maybe done business with them before?"

"Maybe. Or maybe once removed, like we did business with someone who did business with them. I just remember there being a whole thing connected with it…"

"A whole thing. Like drama?" she asked.

"Maybe? I left my dad a voicemail to ask him." But there was silence on the other end of the line. "Sarah? You okay? Still there?"

"I'm here," she said immediately. But her voice sounded strange. "Chuck, it's okay, you don't have to bother your dad for something that has to do with this potential client."

Chuck winced then, realizing he was doing the thing. He didn't feel like he was doing the thing, but she probably did and that was good enough for him to feel like he should apologize and backtrack. "Oh. Sorry. I know, you don't like me using my…connections and stuff to help you with the agency. I figured this was okay because—"

"Chuck, no. It's okay. That's not—That wasn't it." She sighed. "I appreciate you helping, and I know you probably have connections and lines to some of these people who are going to want to hire me. You aren't overstepping. I just…" There was a pause. "After that last incident…you know…The Pasfield incident." Chuck hissed in a wince. "I don't want to upset your dad by digging into things with people he knows for my agency. I don't want that happening again if I can help it."

He smiled warmly and settled back against his chair. "Sarah, it's okay. Dad's not gonna mind. I don't think it's anyone he's close with. But I was just gonna pick his brain, see if he might have a better memory on what that was about. I swear he isn't going to be upset."

She sighed heavily. "Okay, fine, but… Make sure he knows I didn't instigate this. This was all you."

"It was all me."

"And… Baby, in the future, if you could maybe keep your parents far, far away from my cases—you know, just in the off-chance it's something that might piss them off—that'd be for the best."

Chuck frowned. "No, you're right. Absolutely. Got it."

He hated how much that had affected her, and whenever he was reminded of the Pasfield incident, he got angry with himself all over again. She deserved to conduct her agency however she saw fit, without tiptoeing because her boyfriend's family ran in certain Los Angeles "cream of the crop" circles.

He wanted to say it, but he thought this wasn't the time.

"I understand," he said further. "I apologize."

"You don't have to apologize. You didn't do anything wrong. I'm just saying, I'd rather…go easy on that. Just for now, until things settle from the last time."

"Okay. But just to be clear, you're…okay with me talking to him about this one thing?"

"Yeah," she sighed. "Seems innocuous enough. Thanks for being a good assistant." He heard something in the pause. "Although, this technically means you're working off the clock. Does that mean I have to pay you for it?"

Chuck made a thoughtful sound, tapping his chin with the handle of his fork. "Hmmm, depends on the form of payment."

She laughed. "Damn. What an answer." She made a thoughtful sound of her own, though hers was full of that delicious flirtation she was always so good at. "What if we have a sleepover tomorrow night? My place, after work."

Chuck's eyelids fluttered and he grinned like a dope. "You've got a deal, boss."

"Good," she giggled. "Let me know if your dad has anything pertinent to say… otherwise… will I see you tomorrow?"

"Hell yes you will, baby. Bright and early."

"Not too early. I…didn't sleep great last night. I think I'm gonna let myself sleep in tomorrow morning."

"Text me when you're leaving."

"I like that solution."

"I have solutions, Miss Walker. It's why I'm the perfect candidate to be your personal assistant."

"That's another conversation for another time," she laughed. "I'm going to run home and eat now that my cramp is gone. But I love you. And I'll see you tomorrow."

"Love you too. See ya."

They hung up and he put his phone down, bothered suddenly by the way her voice had sounded when she'd asked him not to involve his parents in her cases anymore. Like she'd been bitten really hard over that situation and had taken it to heart. She was overly conscious about it.

He didn't blame her.

But he did blame himself, and he blamed his parents.

And he decided wine wasn't a strong enough drink, actually, so he climbed up from the table and went to his bar.

XOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXO

Mark Macklin had eyed Chuck a little sideways earlier when he introduced himself as her assistant, in spite of the fact that Chuck had gone for a much less intense suit than he'd worn yesterday, like the suits he typically wore to his actual job.

And it made Sarah wonder if there was actually some connection between the Bartowskis and this man. She hadn't spotted any recognition in Chuck's face, however. None of that narrow-eyed, thoughtful stuff that happened to his cute face when he was thinking. Maybe Macklin had antiquated ideas about who should be the boss and who should be the assistant in the office.

He had posed a few questions to Chuck more than he had to Sarah once or twice, but she supposed that could just be happenstance, or politeness. Because when she finally took him into her main office after Chuck offered to put coffee on, Mr. Macklin had asked that the door be shut.

An hour later, and one cup of Chuck's coffee on Sarah's desk in front of Macklin, Sarah had a lot better of an idea about the man's business, and his worries over the employee who had the potential to end said business. He said she was suing him for denying workman's comp, and that she had a "high-powered" lawyer trying to swindle Macklin Construction. Her injury couldn't have been caused at the site, he said, because nobody saw it happen. She told him she did a late-night inspection and had witnesses but according to Macklin, those witnesses were "untrustworthy". "Criminal types"… Nothing was dangerous about the construction site, he insisted, because they followed all protocol.

Sarah took everything down, even recorded the conversation, and she found she wasn't liking much what she was hearing. It sounded like she was being hired to stamp out an employee's claim that unsafe site practices had caused her injury and that her employer refused to pay for her care after the fact.

"So you're taking the case then," Macklin said as she followed him to her office door, and she felt like it wasn't a question. When she went to open the door for him, he moved in front of her and did it himself, gesturing her through. "Ladies first, Miss Walker."

Something slithered down her spine at the way he'd done that. "Oh. Thank you."

Clearing her throat, she led the way into the outer office where Chuck was typing away on his laptop. His eyes lifted from the screen and fastened on her. There was an immediate check of her well-being in his eyes, she realized. Not her physical well-being, so much as he was trying to gauge her reaction to the conversation that had happened behind the closed door. And she had to admit, only to herself, that her boyfriend actually was kind of good at this.

"So the case…"

Sarah turned away from Chuck and faced Mr. Macklin. "Yes, the case. I don't typically take a case on the spot, Mr. Macklin. I need to gauge how much work it will be, and I need to write up a payment plan, figure out how much I'll have to charge you and for what work. I'll get back to you on it very soon, however."

He didn't seem to like that at all. "Okay, what's soon mean?"

"End of tomorrow."

Mark Macklin thought about it, one hand in his jeans pocket. And then he nodded his head once. "Fine. But I'm not paying out my ass for this."

"Of course. Understandable," Sarah said smoothly, hoping Macklin hadn't seen the way Chuck's spine straightened in his chair the way she had. Down, Chuck… "If my prices aren't to your liking when I present them to you tomorrow, I completely understand, Mr. Macklin."

"Okay, just…Remember what I said about this Veracruz woman. Whatever happened to her, not on one of my sites, it did something to her head. I bet if you look at those hospital records she's got some…brain something there. Made her confused. You can use that in your report actually. That's a good one."

Sarah clenched her jaw. It sounded worse the second time. "I'll be in touch soon."

"Right. Okay." As he moved to the door, he seemed to forget himself and came back to shake her hand. Then he pointed at Chuck. "Thanks for the coffee, uhhh, Chip."

He was gone then, the door shutting behind him.

"Chuck," her boyfriend muttered. "But okay."

Sarah turned on her heel and glanced at Chuck. He had exactly the look she'd expected him to have on his face. Suspicion. Dubiousness. With a side of annoyance.

"Are they…always like that?" he asked slowly, finally pulling his eyes from the door to look at her.

"Nope."

He sagged a bit in relief. "Oh good. Man, he got my levels up real quick and he was only out here for a minute, tops. I know I'm not really your assistant and I'm just the boyfriend, Sarah, but I don't think you should take his case. Instead of a P.I., I think he needs a P.I.T.N.…" She gave him a questioning look and immediately regretted it. There was a glint in his eye. "A Punch In The Nose. Hehe."

"Oh God," she sighed, rolling her eyes. "But I also don't exactly disagree with you." He raised his eyebrows. "About the punching thing. The case, I'm not sure about. He sounds like he's trying to screw this woman over."

"The brain injury thing? What the hell was that?" Chuck pushed himself to stand up. "What's the protocol here? What are you gonna do? How can I help?" Sarah frowned, thinking. She didn't respond for a while, thinking back to Macklin's body language. There was an entitled nervousness to him. That was the best way she could think to describe it. People didn't stick it to this guy ever because they knew they couldn't probably. And now someone was, and apparently she had a "high-powered" lawyer, too. Maybe they had stuff on him and he was nervous.

"I'm going to look into this Bertha Veracruz who made the workman's comp claim." She made a frustrated sound and pushed a hand through her hair before crossing her arms at her chest, glancing at Chuck again. "I shouldn't have cut my time like that."

"What do you mean?"

"Telling him I'd have this all done with my answer by tomorrow night. I have a lot I need to do besides just the payment plan and gauging what kind of work the case will require me to do and how much to charge…" She nibbled on her lip. "I want to know exactly what happened with this workman's comp claim. I should've given myself at least an extra day."

"Well, okay, two things." He came around the desk and stood in front of her. "He doesn't seem like the patient type. I'm not sure he would've accepted anything longer than tomorrow night." She tilted her head and hummed in agreement. He was right about that. "And it isn't just you. You've got an extra pair of hands, an extra brain. I'm all yours, detective. Among my skill sets, I can boast topnotch recon talent. I'm great at disguises, as you know." She rolled her eyes at that one. "Coffee brewing, coffee buying if you want something a little fancier. Food getting. And I can also boast some insane ha—" He stopped, narrowing his eyes and looking around the room. "You checked for bugs today, right?" She smirked and nodded. "Oh good. Hacking." Sarah gave him a little bit of a warning look. "I know, I know. But if it's just little stuff, why not? You've got an invaluable tool here, detective, why not use it?"

She couldn't help the flirtatious giggle. "Did you just call yourself a tool?"

He laughed and winced. "I think I did. Whoops." Then he sobered up a little. "Most importantly, Sarah, I'm good at following instructions, and I pick up on things fast. This whole thing about you losing that bet at my birthday party and letting me be your assistant for a little while…"

"A day," she interrupted, side-eying him.

"Tomato tomahto." He brushed that away with his hand and she snorted. "The bet aside, Sarah, I'm here now and I'm more than willing to help in any way I can."

She smiled and reached up to play with one of his curls. He'd just gotten a haircut the week before and they were shorter now. Part of her missed the longer curls. But that was neither here nor there. He'd just made her an offer she, well, couldn't refuse. "Thank you, Chuck. I think I might actually need you. I've bit off a little more than I can chew here."

She could see him actively trying to repress his excitement and it was so cute it made her chest hurt. "You've got me. But Sarah…baby. Can't you just…not take the case? Tell him to find another P.I.?"

"Of course I can do that. It just sucks to know I'd be watching a fat paycheck walk out the door with him." Chuck nodded. "But I'm not going to go searching for dirt on this woman if she's genuine. If she really got hurt on his work site because they weren't following safety protocols, I don't want to fuck her over, you know? You heard what he said about the brain injury thing. He's searching for things to make her look like she's lying or confused."

"He seemed nervous, too." She smiled at him, pride lightly tickling at her heart. "What?" he asked.

"Nothing. Just…the fact that you noticed, that's all. Very observant. Good work, assistant." The light of pride in his face lit something in her, but she had to get back to business. She didn't have the time to get all gooey over her boyfriend right now. "I noticed the same thing, actually. I think he's used to getting whatever he wants and not having anyone stand in his way."

"And this woman who was injured on one of his construction sites, filed workman's comp, and was denied…isn't going away," Chuck muttered.

"Like the others did…?" Sarah added. She reached out and wrapped her fingers around Chuck's forearm. "I'm putting more coffee on. We have work to do."

"Oh hell yes. But—Sarah, I'm the assistant here. I'll do the coffee thing."

She sent him a look. "Yeah, that's not how this outfit works. I don't know what sorts of office environments you're used to, pal, but at Walker Investigative Enterprises, we're all capable of making coffee, getting food, and running errands."

"Equity. I love it."

She giggled, moving towards the coffee machine. "Also, don't think I didn't catch you giving this office a deep clean, Chuck Bartowski." She'd heard him rummaging around in the closet out there, and then there'd been whistling, thumping, grunting. She'd peeked out of her office about an hour before the Macklin appointment, and he'd been on his hands and knees, mopping under the desk, and the place glinted professionally. It was insanely sweet.

"Hey, nothing says professional outfit like a sparkling office."

Shaking her head, she prepped the coffee, a little astounded that she was actually letting this thing continue. More than that, even, that she was looking forward to it.

XOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXO

She was in a bit of a martini haze, with the extra comfort of a man's arms wrapped around her, her back pressed against his sturdy chest, his warmth spilling through her. She was sure no other woman in the history of humanity had ever been this comfortable or content.

Sarah Walker carefully brought her martini glass to her lips and finished off her second of the night, letting out a satisfied gasp after swallowing and lifting the empty glass up in front of them with a proud flourish.

He giggled behind her, his chest bouncing under her, and she beamed. "Yes, you beat me. Congratulations, you glutton."

She laughed. "Oh, shut up. As if we aren't both gluttons. I'm just a faster glutton tonight."

Chuck snorted. "Cute."

They'd spent hours bent over research for the potential Macklin case, finding out more about Bertha Veracruz's injury, and her job at Macklin Construction. Not only had she not gotten workman's comp for her injury, she'd been fired in retaliation. Or at least, it looked that way in spite of the company's denial. A smaller local paper had written a story about Veracruz and her troubles with Macklin Construction, but it hadn't gained traction.

What it did do was get her on the radar of a local sect of a justice seeking nonprofit who protected women in particular against predatory employers. Hence the lawyer she ended up being able to retain.

They'd worked until after nine at night, until she finally called it quits for the both of them. It hadn't sat right with her, making him stay past the regular workday hours, but he'd insisted. He was "in the middle of something", and couldn't just leave before he finished what he was doing. So they'd stayed, and even in the midst of taking what she was working on seriously, she'd fallen in love even harder.

Somehow.

Seeing him like that with his jacket off, his sleeves rolled up, his hair mussed, all rumpled and hard-working, the way she'd always seen him in his office at B.E.C., but this time in her world, at her office, had brought her back to the beginning of all of this. She could still remember the first time she'd seen him like that behind his desk at B.E.C., when she was working his case, and how intense the warmth was in her chest, how sudden the all-encompassing attraction was. That urge to crawl onto his lap where he sat in his chair and just wrap herself around him.

Why she had such powerful emotions about a guy she'd gotten used to seeing like this now that they'd been dating for a few years, she had no idea. But it hit her right in the face today.

Now they each had about two of Chuck's iconic martinis in them, and they were lounging on her couch. She didn't know what time it was and she didn't care. She just felt good. They still had so much work to do tomorrow. She wasn't holding Chuck to showing up at her office with her in the morning, but she knew he would. Just like he had today. He'd see this case out at the very least, now that he was this deep in it.

If it even became a case.

She was now leaning way more towards not taking it, in spite of wanting that money. Needing it.

"Sarah?"

"Hm?"

"Don't take the case," he said quietly. "It isn't my decision and I'm gonna be behind you even if you do take the case, but… None of this has felt good. I don't feel good about Macklin. At all."

She was quiet for a while, his words settling in her.

"Sorry. I shouldn't butt in like this. You didn't ask me. I need to mind my business…"

"No, no. I'm just thinking." She draped her hand over his. "You are kind of my assistant at the moment, our bet and jokes aside. You've done a lot of work for me today. I welcome your opinion on this." She sighed. "I'm not going to take it. I can't. I don't…want to."

He squeezed her with the arm that was wrapped around her. "Is it 'cause he's sketchy?"

She nodded. "He puts me off. And I can't help thinking he deserves whatever he might get here. I just can't…" She huffed. "I can't let Walker Investigative Enterprises be a tool rich entitled powerful men use to fuck over their employees, no matter how much they offer to pay me."

He hummed thoughtfully. "You know what?"

"Hm?"

"You're good enough and smart enough and talented enough at this to make a shit ton of money, and be the most powerful P.I. in the world if you took cases like this, if you became the P.I. these guys could go to and know they'd be taken care of, no matter how unethical they are, no matter who they want to fuck over." He pressed a kiss to her head. "But you would never. And I say that without a doubt."

She smiled and turned her head to nuzzle his jaw with her forehead. "I would never. But thank you for that vote of confidence in my moral compass."

Chuck held her closer, and they were silent for a few minutes, just allowing themselves the contentment and comfort.

But in spite of the words they'd just exchanged, and knowing that she was doing the right thing by not taking a case that left her feeling this uncomfortable with the moral implications, she still felt a part of her regretting the lost paycheck. She wasn't in danger of going bankrupt by any means. She wasn't under the poverty line. But she still wasn't at the point where she was doing much more than breaking even with her rent and expenses. And she could use this kind of regular clientele. She could use regular wealthy clientele.

But if that meant selling her soul to the LA area's white collar would-be-criminals (if the justice system wasn't so unbalanced in favor of the rich), she would stay at this level, barely breaking even. She wasn't helping men like Macklin injure and ruin the lives of their employees without consequence.

Hopefully justice would prevail and he'd be penalized for cutting corners at the expense of the safety of his employees, but she wouldn't play any part in it.

She imagined he wasn't going to take her rejection well. He didn't seem like the type who received someone telling him "no" with grace. He didn't seem like the type to do anything with grace.

No whopping paycheck that would see some money in her actual bank account instead of going directly into Walker Investigative Enterprises. For how hard she'd been working on this agency, the pay-off hadn't been immediate or vast. But she had taken some inspiration, even some encouragement, from learning how difficult and slow-going Bartowski Electronics Corporation's ascent had been. Sure, she wasn't looking to have the same kind of success as a tech giant, but to stop having to rely merely on her savings from the last eight years would be a damn gift.

She wouldn't have any regrets about turning down Macklin's case, but it would sting passing up on a huge opportunity to have that door opened for her, and her bank account would feel it too.

Saying it out loud to Chuck was tempting. It was very tempting. He was so good at listening and letting her get things off of her chest, things she wouldn't admit to anyone else. But she couldn't help being a little embarrassed, and maybe even ashamed, by her thoughts.

That there was a part of her wondering if she shouldn't at least find more evidence that Macklin was being pernicious, covering his own mistakes, by attacking the woman trying to sue him for a workplace injury before she turned down his case. She and Chuck had built up dossiers throughout most of the day, but Macklin's behavior and the things he said about Bertha Veracruz in Sarah's office were the only real reason why she wasn't taking the case. No actual evidence he was lying.

But damn it, this was a business too. It wasn't a charity.

She inwardly rolled her eyes at herself. That was why she wasn't going to say any of this out loud. Because while Chuck might agree with her about the 'business not a charity' claim, he ran B.E.C. as its COO with a definite lean towards charity. Granted, B.E.C. was successful enough, and Chuck himself was successful enough, that he had the privilege of being able to expend that much energy and money into charitable causes.

She wasn't sure her agency would ever get to a point where she'd be able to take cases pro bono. And honestly, she wasn't at a point where she could afford to turn down cases based on the perceived moral ideology of the potential client.

Still, she was turning down Mark Macklin.

She couldn't afford to turn him down… and she was doing it anyway.

And maybe Chuck Bartowski had rubbed off on her over the last few years, because she couldn't help thinking the Sarah Walker before that day she first walked into Bartowski Electronic Corporation's LA headquarters would take this case.

Sarah decided she wasn't exactly sure how that made her feel.

XOXOXOXOXOXOXOXO

Chuck glared down at the coffee machine as it sat there, stubbornly silent in spite of the brew button glowing. It definitely wasn't brewing.

He let out a thoughtful hum, propping his chin in his palm and glaring harder at the machine.

"What?"

He heard Sarah's voice float into the lobby from the main office.

"The coffee machine. I think it's broken, boss."

He saw Sarah step into the doorway in his peripheral and he glanced up at her. She had a wincing look on her face. "Please don't call me boss. I've decided it's weird."

He chuckled. "Why's it weird?"

"It's got weird implications. Like, the guy I had shower sex with this morning is calling me his boss. Mm mm." She made an icked out face and shook her head. "Nope. Don't like that."

Laughing, he nodded, holding his hands up. "Okay, yep. I hear it. Got it. No more calling you 'boss'. I'll try at least."

"Thank you. And did you try turning that thing off and back on again?" she asked with a smirk as she closed the distance, pointing at the coffee machine. He gave her a flat look and she giggled. "Just a suggestion. I know, you don't tell me how to be a detective, I shouldn't tell you how to work electronics." She tilted her head and narrowed her eyes then. "Although you did tell me not to take the Macklin case last night."

Chuck turned to face her fully, an alarm going off inside of him. "Oh. Did that upset you? Have I upset you? I'm not telling you—I mean, it was just a suggestion, just what I personally think you should do, but I'm going to support you no matter what. And help you. I won't judge you if you do take it. I'm sorry if I overstepped."

She quickly grabbed his arms. "Whoa, hold on. You're okay. Don't worry. I took it how you meant for me to take it. And you're right, I shouldn't take Macklin's case. I'm not going to." He felt a little bad for being so relieved. It was her agency and her decision.

He got the worst feeling from Mark Macklin. He was exactly the type of guy Chuck had come across in the last few years that he made a habit of not doing business with. He avoided guys like that like the plague. Right now, he was on the ascent, filling his pockets with his massive construction enterprise, but there was always a chance a guy like that would get his comeuppance eventually, and he'd take allies down with him.

The idea of Sarah being one of said allies had a pit sitting at the bottom of Chuck's stomach.

"I'm glad to hear that. I-I want your agency to do well. I really do. It would be a big paycheck if you took Macklin's case. I know that. And I come from a privileged place, I know that too. It's easy to stand on a moral soapbox when deciding whether to take a job or not when you're as rich as I am. I get that."

She sighed. "Yeah, sure, it's gonna mean passing up a good amount of money that maybe I can't really afford to pass up, but…" Crossing her arms, she shook her head. "I can't sacrifice my soul for a paycheck. There needs to be rules, you know? Lines I don't cross. Screwing over someone with a legitimate injury so I can fatten my coffers? No. I can't."

Sarah reached out to squeeze his forearm then. "Hey, can you do me a favor?"

"Anything."

"Fix that coffee maker while I'm in my office calling Mark Macklin, huh? I have a feeling I'm gonna need it by the time I get off the phone."

Chuck saluted her. "You got it. One cup of coffee coming up, Detective Walker." But before she could retreat back to her office, he held fast to her wrist and pulled her close, wrapping her up in a hug and squeezing tight. "For luck and strength and comfort and all that. Whatever it is you're gonna need for this phone call." He squeezed again, just once, and kissed her hair, finally loosening his grip and stepping back.

Sarah smiled up at him and moved to hug him this time, her arms around his shoulders, lips pressed to the spot under his ear that made him shiver. "Thank you, Chuck." She pulled back and ran an adoring hand down the lapel of his blazer. "I'll be right out." With one last wide eyed look, she went into her office again, and he heard her dialing a number.

And because he was him, he couldn't help creeping closer, pressing himself against the wall outside of her office to listen carefully.

XOXOXOXOXOXOXOXO

"Hello, yes, my name is Sarah Walker. I'm calling to speak with Mr. Macklin, please."

"Just one moment, Miss Walker, and I'll see if he's in."

"Thank you."

Sarah rolled her eyes to herself as muffled hold music played. A minute passed, then another, so she finally put it on speaker and set the phone down, crossing her arms and leaning back against her chair.

It sounded like the transition music from an early 'nineties procedural show or something. Some cop show that preceded Law & Order, maybe. And she inwardly snorted at that thought. But then she saw movement in her peripheral and she turned to look at the doorway to the outer office where Chuck was fixing the coffee machine.

As it turned out, Chuck wasn't fixing the coffee machine.

Definitely not.

He'd heard the hold music and was now drifting into the doorway swiveling his hips in an attempted sexy way, his lips pursed, and his arms raised above his head. He pumped his fists up and down and thrusted his hips back and forth to the beat. And then he lowered one hand and pretended he was hitting a cymbal with an invisible drumstick along with the music.

She just stared for a good minute as his jaw fell open, and he ran his tongue along his top teeth seductively, winking at her as he met her gaze, and he began to gyrate, one hand on the small of his back, the other fist above his head, making circles like he was swinging a lasso.

Sarah Walker, private investigator, kept her poker face in place, her mask firmly settled over her pretty features, simply watching her boyfriend do…this, whatever it was.

It wasn't until he flattened his back against the doorframe, sliding down it sexily, thrusting again, and sliding back up to his full height, that she shook her head and pointed back out into the other office.

"If you don't stop doing that, I'm shutting the door."

He turned to face her and ran his hands up and down his torso, biting his bottom lip. "Oh, come on, Sarah. That sax isn't doing anything for you?"

"Go fix the coffee machine," she said loudly, unable to keep the slight giggle from her voice, or the sparkle from her blue eyes.

"Yes, ma'am. I will. I just got so caught up in this sexy music."

"You're insa—"

"Sarah? Sarah Walker?"

She held up a hand and picked up the phone, taking it off of speaker. "Yes, this is Sarah Walker."

"Sorry for keeping you on hold for so long. I'll connect you with Mr. Macklin momentarily. Thanks for waiting."

"Oh no problem at all. Thank you."

Chuck tapped the tip of his pointer finger against his tongue, then put it to his ass, making a sizzle noise and winking. She made like she was going to throw a paper weight at him and he giggled maniacally, ducking out of the room and out of sight, presumably to go and fix the damn coffee machine.

She loved him more than anything but he was out of his God damn mind sometimes and she didn't know what to do with him.

"Yes?" came the gruff voice on the other side of the phone.

Sarah blinked. "Mr. Macklin? This is Sarah Walker, private investigator. You came to my agency the other day to—"

"I know who you are. So what have you found out about this Villareal woman? Or is it Vasquez? Whatever. One of those Mexican V names. I want you to send my assistant your payment plan, and we can go through it over the phone. Your rates are a little steep, but I think there'll be some wiggle room there, maybe. I'm very persuasive."

She glared, turning towards her window, the shadows from the blinds cascading over her face as she reached over to play with the wand, opening and closing the Venetian blinds to keep her fingers working so that they didn't hit something. She kept an even tone as she responded. "Mr. Macklin, I'm afraid I'm not taking your case. It seems Bertha Veracruz might have a legitimate claim to compensation from her injuries she sustained," she said. "And while I appreciate you coming to me for help, I won't be able to provide any assistance to you at this time. Thank you, and if—"

"Wait," he interrupted. "You're pullin' my leg."

"I assure you, Mr. Macklin, I'm not. I'm a professional private investigator; I don't pull legs."

"I know you're pulling mine," he insisted, his voice getting even more gruff. "Telling me you aren't taking my case, as if you have a choice. I'm offering you a shit ton of money, little girlie." Sarah worked her jaw at that. "Money you can't afford to be passing up. See, I did a little investigating of my own. Not doing so hot with that agency, huh? Just barely making rent payments. Not exactly a cash cow, is it?"

She wanted to punch him in his face.

"This isn't necessary, Mr. Macklin. There are plenty of P.I.s in the area who might take your case. I just happen to not be one of them."

"Oh, it's necessary. I came to you to give you a chance to make a lot of damn moolah. And you're gonna God damn turn me down? Me?"

And before Sarah could say anything else, there was a click on the line, and a soft boop boop boop to signal that he'd hung up. "Holy shit," she muttered, setting the phone down. She pushed up to her feet, realizing her legs were feeling a bit like they were made out of jelly, and she walked out to the outer office, finding Chuck standing there with a freshly brewed cup of coffee.

Two of them actually, one for her and one for himself.

He frowned as he thrust the mug out to her. "You okay?"

"Yeah, I've dealt with dickheads before. He hung up on me."

"It sounded that way." She gave him a look through her eyelashes and he winced. "Okay, yeah I was listening. But I just wanted to see how you went about it. You know? I'm learning on the job." He paused. "I'm also just super nosey maybe I'm sorry baby," he rushed out with a wince.

She gulped down the hot coffee, glad it wasn't blistering hot she'd been on hold for long enough, and she took a deep, calming breath. "It's fine. It's done. I did it. That's it. Over."

"What a fucking asshole, hanging up on you like that. You have every right to decide you aren't gonna take his case. If he doesn't like it, he can shove it up his entire butt."Sarah choked a bit at the way he said that, as affronted as he was for her, with the addition of the prim sip of coffee afterwards. She really did love him so hard. "Well, um, I didn't say that exactly…"

"Well, yeah, he really didn't give you much of a chance, did he? Hanging up like that. Ass. Hole. See? That's why I haven't heard of him. Treating people like that, there's no way he's ever gonna get anywhere near my circles. Unimportant, swindling hack."

Sarah felt her eyes widening and she reached up to pat him on the chest. "Chuck. Baby, this is sweet, how offended you are that he hung up on me. But I'm fine. We're going to just move on from this. You can go back to B.E.C. now and I'll go back to my own work."

"Am I being fired?"

She laughed. "No. But I'm not taking the case. There's no reason for you to be here."

"Okay. That sounds like I'm being fired. At best, I'm being furloughed."

"Stop," she giggled. "You're not being anything'd. I just thought, you know, without a case, there's no reason for you to continue being my assistant."

"You need a coffee machine fixer, a duster, a filer, a…vacuumer. Someone to buoy your spirits and make sure you keep those blinds shut certain parts of the day when the heat hits that window in the summer so that you don't waste money on your AC. I can buy you a fan, too."

Sarah snorted and fixed the front of his blazer over his torso, giving it a tug. "I don't really know what else I can find for you to do, Chuck. That's all."

"And I'm fired."

She laughed and shook her head, and he chuckled with her, turning to set his mug down on the small table next to the machine and stepping in close to cup her elbows. "In all seriousness, Sarah, I get it. I know that we've each got our respective jobs that we go to with our respective offices. You work here, I work there. And this can be a place you can come to actually get some…well," he said with a wince, "space from me when you need it. And now I'm here crowding this space too."

Even while Sarah could tell he wasn't saying this in a hurt way, like he was taking it personally, she quickly did what she could to dispel him of that notion. "Chuck, I don't come here to get away from my boyfriend. I come here to work. Because it's my job, it's how I survive and pay my rent and stuff."

"I know, I know. I just don't want to crowd you."

"You aren't crowding me. I don't have much for you to do is all. But if you want to sit at this desk and stare at the wall or something, feel free. You can always come here to get away from the stress and pressures of B.E.C., if you need to." She'd seen the stress and pressures of it wearing on him here and there lately especially. He seemed to be exhausted a lot of the time, lacking proper sleep, putting a lot on his shoulders. Even with the successes of the convention and the possibilities spring boarding off of it. "You know that, right?" she asked, reaching up with her free hand to play with the hair at the nape of his neck. "I mean, don't get crazy and bring a TV and a video game console in here or anything…" she teased.

"Awwww, damn iiiiit," he groaned. "That was my next move. Never miiiiind I gueeeeesss."

She laughed and shook her head, before she moved up onto her tiptoes to kiss him. Then she pulled out of the kiss with a happy little hum and patted him on the chest. "I might have paperwork you can help me figure out how to file for now, though. Sound fun?"

"Sounds like a blast. Where is this…paperwork you speak of?" he growled, rubbing his hands together in anticipation.

"Fucking nerd," she giggled, a loving look on her face as she gestured with a toss of her head for him to follow her into her office.

XOXOXOXOXOXOXOXO

A/N: She says that like she isn't the biggest dork on the planet. Pfft.

Thanks for reading! Please review! More coming!

-SC