The Nerd Versus the P.I. Family
By Steampunk . Chuckster
A/N: Somebody gave me advice when I first started writing Chuck fic, unsolicited advice in the form of a PM. Because of course. And he (of course) was like, "The reason why you aren't getting many reviews is because people come here to read a story and you post a chapter with thousands of words and the plot goes nowhere in spite of all those words." I never responded to it, in fact, I'm pretty sure I just deleted it. Because I'm not trying to get a publisher or an agent. I'm not trying to put these on people's shelves in a nice little novel/book format. These stories are literally one of my last strongholds on sanity and peace. That's all to say that my stories might not move plot forward as quickly as some folks might like. This chapter's probably something that guy would've complained to me about. Because he knows what PEOPLE want I guess. No offense, folks, but I don't care what PEOPLE want; I'm writing what I want. I'm just glad some of us share tastes because otherwise I'd get literally 0 readers and nobody would ever review. Woops. So to the Plot-Hungry Ones, sorry I guess? And to those of you who just want to read what I write, HELLO and LOVE YA! And to that dude, if he's even still around ten years later: Go buy a published book at your local bookstore, I'm sure those'll have all the fast-moving plots you'll need. :D
Summary: Sarah Walker has uprooted her life, leaving her job with the LAPD and going it alone as a private investigator, all in the hopes it provides her with less dangerous stakes and a schedule she can control so that she can handle her most important job, raising her toddler, a bit easier. But when the single parent thinks her computer might've been targeted by a criminal, she has to request help from the unlikeliest of sources: The Buy More Nerd Herd.
Disclaimer: I do not own CHUCK, I do not own its characters, I am not making money from posting this.
The first text he sent, he'd stressed over, staring down at the words he'd typed, just a friendly, "Hey, hope you're having a great day!" And then he'd deleted it. And then he'd typed again, "Hi there beautiful", and then he'd deleted that, making a grossed out face at himself. Hi there beautiful? Really? Disgusting.
Finally, he'd settled on: "Hi there! Just wanted to say hello. I hope you're doing well Sarah. :)"
That had gotten sent. The smiley face at the end had felt a little overkill, or maybe smiley faces could be misconstrued as passive aggressive. And he got in his head about it.
But then she'd responded quickly enough that he'd narrowly avoided a full on spiral.
"Well hello! I'm fine. And you?"
That had been the beginning of a good, long conversation, nothing important, just trivial things, but he kept a line open to her as the days passed. He'd been careful all week not to text too often, or send her full novel-length texts. And he tried not to obsessively check his phone for her responses. Whether he succeeded was another story.
Chuck looked up at the NERD HERD sign. The last D on the sign flickered sadly as he switched the light on, and he turned it off again, sighing. He was going to have to replace that now thanks to Skip slamming a ladder into it, breaking the glass and exposing the wire.
Chuck sent a picture of the broken sign to Sarah with the caption: "Nerd Her!"
Sarah replied within minutes: "OMG. Is that what you say when a nerd forces his comic books onto a girl?"
He laughed for a while before sending back: "Yes. It's subliminal messaging. Prepare to find a stack of comic books at your door compliments of your favorite nerd. ;)"
"Perfect. Max needs more coloring books. I'll just let him color on those. Did you break that sign Chuck? I knew you were tall but not that tall."
Drowning in how much he sincerely liked the private investigator down to his very core, he responded, "You know, I'd be okay sacrificing my comics to the coloring gods. As long as Max has fun. And it wasn't me. Skip hit it with a ladder. But I'll be the one fixing it."
"Bartowski, are you fixing that sign or what?"
He turned slowly to find Harry Tang standing behind him, a peeved look on the shorter man's face.
"Excuse me?" he asked just as slowly. He felt his phone vibrate in his pocket, but he kept his gaze on Harry's face, unflinching.
"I asked if you're fixing the sign. It looks terrible. I have product to push and it's hard to look professional as a store with that stupid light hanging open on the sign like that. So fix it."
Ever since Big Mike had promoted Harry Tang to assistant manager, the man had been a tyrant. Well, even more of a tyrant than he'd been before. Chuck wondered how he even got his head through the door to get into the store the five days a week he worked here.
But what Harry Tang still hadn't gotten through his bald head was that he wasn't Chuck Bartowski's boss. Big Mike wasn't even Chuck Bartowski's boss and he was the store manager.
Someday, he thought his personal rule of pacifism might fall apart thanks to this asshole. And his fist would find its way into the guy's face. Hard.
Today wasn't going to be that day. He had someone in his pocket (sort of) who was making him feel like the sun shining outside had made its way inside—bad fluorescent store lighting aside—and he wasn't letting this manbaby on one of his power trips wreck that.
"Well, Harry, yes. Yes, the sign is broken. And even though it isn't my job technically, and I'm not the one who broke it—"
"Is that how you solve problems, Bartowski? 'I didn't do it so I don't have to fix it'? So you'll just leave it gaping open like that, then? Who did break it if it wasn't you?" Harry crossed his arms critically, trying to look bigger than he was, standing up straighter, flexing his arms. It was sad.
And Chuck saw Skip silently poke his head up from behind the musical blu-ray section, watching closely. Harry Tang was Skip's boss. And Skip had been getting pilloried by the tyrant's extremely sensitive three strike rule this week, Chuck knew.
"Well, Harry, maybe it was a ghost. You know about the store ghost, right?" Harry's jaw twitched. "She's basically La Llorona but more of a late-thirties stay-at-home PTA-mom type. She fuckin' hates that sign." He gestured at it with a flick of his thumb over his shoulder.
"You think you're funny, Bartowski?" Harry hissed through gritted teeth, stepping up against Chuck's front threateningly, puffing up his chest.
"I'm hilarious. Ask anybody here."
"Well, I don't think you're so funny. I think you're a pain in my ass."
"All the better."
"Just fix the sign and stop being a punk," the assistant manager said, pointing in Chuck's face. It took everything in Chuck's power not to grab that finger and break it.
Harry slowly backed away from Chuck then, trying to mad dog him, but instead managing to look extremely constipated instead.
"Tammy the PTA Ghost wants you to know there are some breath mints in the break room if you need 'em. Not that she thinks youneed 'em or anything, but just, you know, if you go back for your lunch break, she just wants you to know they're there." Chuck shrugged.
"Shut up!"
"Just common courtesy, man. She's a very courteous ghost."
Harry stomped away, his little fists pumping at his sides.
Smirking, he pulled his phone out of his pocket to read Sarah's text, feeling pretty proud of himself, he had to admit. But then he heard someone snap their fingers nearby and he looked up. Skip peeked over to where Harry had disappeared and quickly closed the distance, holding up a notepad where he'd messily scrawled THANK YOU!
Chuck shrugged. "I'm not throwing my nerds under any buses, especially none with that asshole behind the wheel."
Skip grinned, then scrawled something else quickly and held it up. HE SMELLS LIKE SHIT.
"Is that what that smell was? Thanks, I wasn't sure."
Laughing silently, Skip grabbed the ladder and set it up, before motioning that he was going to get the tools. At least Chuck had managed to get an ally for the day out of this.
He finally looked down at his phone and saw Sarah had sent a few texts.
"How old is this Skip? Is he a 12 yo from the 1950s?" Chuck laughed outright. "Why do YOU have to fix it?" And then her text after that: "Just warning you Max can't stay in the lines yet so hopefully you aren't bringing me collectibles."
Grinning, he hopped up to sit on the desk, glancing at Skip as he arrived with the toolbox, setting it next to him. He typed: "Maaaaybe not my pristine collectors. But I was thinking maybe instead of comics, you'll settle for ME showing up."
He was distracted by Skip trying to climb up the ladder with one of the legs resting on top of an uneven spot of the floor. "Skip! Wait, wait! You're gonna die. Hold on." Skip hopped off of the rocking ladder and Chuck hurried to move the ladder so that all four legs were flat on the ground. Skip saluted and moved to go up the ladder again, but Chuck took his arm. "I'll do it. Just hold the ladder for me and pass me up the tools, huh?"
Skip saluted again.
But before he made the climb, Chuck was hit with the realization that he'd pressed send on that, as distracted as he'd been trying to keep Skip from dying. "Shit!" He pulled his phone out and looked at it. Nothing was there. That could only mean one thing. "Shit!" he cursed again. He groaned, pulling up the conversation. There it was, sitting there, sent. She'd received it. There was no taking it back. It was gonna be there now, chilling on her damn phone for her to read. And read it she would. She would read into it.
He was probably crossing a line, especially since she hadn't given him any timeline of when he might expect another date, no schedule as of yet. And here he was swinging in like fucking Clueless Tarzan on his idiot vine inviting himself over to her place. What would she—?
His phone buzzed and he pulled it out of his pocket. But it was just Skip, texting, "Did someone DIE?"
"No," he groused, glancing at Skip. "But I want to."
Skip put a supportive hand on his shoulder and awkwardly patted it a few times. Then Chuck ascended the ladder and got to work.
His phone didn't buzz again for a while, and the more time it took, the more he was absolutely sure he'd fucked up big time. He should've kept his mouth shut. He'd gotten too comfortable flirting through text with her and he'd slipped and gone too far and now she was most likely trying to figure out how to respond to his bullshit.
The light fixed, he told Skip to man the desk and opted to take the ladder and tools back into the warehouse himself. That would give him the opportunity to sit in the bad lighting back there, hide behind some boxes or something, and brood.
He didn't brood often, but this felt brood-worthy.
He was an idiot.
Chuck put everything back where it went, then silently groused when he saw some of the green shirts were already back there, opening and receiving a new shipment of appliances that had just been delivered.
Slipping back out of the warehouse and sneaking along the back wall to his office, he nearly made it there when he heard, "Bartowski!"
Chuck froze, and he sighed, his shoulders slumping. He turned on his heel and gave Big Mike the most patient and easygoing look he was capable of, pressing his lips together in something of a smile. "Yessir, Big Mike. How can I help you today?"
"Now, now. What have I said about you callin' me sir? I ain't your boss anymore, son." Mike smirked, a bit of pride in his face. But then it dulled to a look of annoyance. "That being said, if you have a moment, I need to see you in my office. It's important."
Even as he felt a strong urge to duck into his office, shut and lock the door in Mike's face, and hide under his desk in the dark to pretend like he wasn't there even though the other man literally saw him go in, Chuck shrugged. "I have time now, Big Mike. Whatever you need."
"This attitude is what got you this promotion, son." He nudged his shoulder. "Thank you. Come on. I've got donuts."
"Oh, yum."
He followed in Big Mike's footsteps, then closed the door behind him once they got into his office. He passed on the donuts however, not feeling in the mood after the ill-advised tweet and the lack of response from the private investigator.
"All right, Bartowski. I'm going to give it to ya straight." Big Mike plopped down into his chair and gestured for Chuck to sit across from him. Chuck did, feeling a sense of unease rise in him. Sure, Big Mike hadn't been his boss for three years now, but he still couldn't help a part of him still seeing the other man as his superior at the Buy More. Mike Tucker couldn't fire him, but he also didn't want to be in trouble.
"We're in a fight for the soul of this Buy More. Have you seen it out there? It's like Night of the Living Dead."
"There are…zombies?"
"As good as," Big Mike argued, widening his eyes. "There is no energy out there. Do you know what's going on with our people? No drive, just shuffling around through the aisles." Was that anything different from how the Burbank Buy More employees had always been? Wasn't that retail in a nutshell? Especially corporate retail?
He didn't dare say that out loud, though.
"I just heard Fernando give up on a sale out there. He gave up. His customer said she wasn't interested in an air fryer because she had an air fryer accident when she was a child, and instead of taking her to the dutch ovens, Fernando just…gave up. He let her walk her ass outta here. She left the whole damn store!"
Chuck took a deep breath. "Well…uh, maybe Fernando is having a rough day?"
"Everybody is like that out there. And this isn't the first time I seen 'em like this, either. It's been days. What's gotten into them, man?"
Shaking his head, Chuck wasn't exactly sure how to explain corporate burnout to the store manager. He'd gone through it himself when he was the Nerd Herd supervisor, no change of scenery, nothing to work for or towards, every day the same, not knowing if the work you're doing will ever get you anywhere else…
It had for Chuck. But his new role had literally been created for him, and the system worked against guys like Morgan.
There was always a Harry Tang waiting in the wings to stifle any ambition you might have to climb the ladder.
Chuck had escaped having to be under Harry's thumb just barely, getting his new job as the area specialist mere weeks before Dan had left the store and Harry Tang received the promotion to assistant manager. They'd shipped him in from the Orange location, with Big Mike being taken out of the conversation entirely.
And of course, Harry had been shoved around from location to location before he was plopped at Burbank. It was like corporate had a particular hatred for the Burbank store, saddling them with the worst human and leader possible to be their Assistant Manage aka the AssMan.
Chuck and Morgan theorized that Harry had nearly been fired for any number of things at one of the other locations but that he'd threatened to sue the pants off of the company, and now he held their proverbial nuts in his fist.
That was the only thing Chuck could think of for why he hadn't been fired yet.
"The weather has kind of been so-so," Chuck tried to reason. "You know, where it's kind of cloudy and hot, but then it's like…not cloudy? So the sun is like extra bright but it's still kind of dark outside?" Big Mike's frown grew more and more confused. "Devon calls it Earthquake Weather." He cleared his throat at the store manager's blank stare. "Uh…sometimes my mood suffers when it's weird and overcast like this."
"You think it's the weather?"
"It might be!" He shrugged.
Big Mike raised an eyebrow. "Maybe… It might be." He sighed then. "Well, we gotta step it up. I've got bills to pay and I can't afford to have this store close down because the weather is tanking our sales. In freakin' LA. We barely even have weather here."
Chuck nodded. But then he felt a buzz in his pocket. It was her. It had to be her.
"Uh, sir—Er, Big Mike. I'm sorry. This is a very important conversation, and we can continue it whenever you'd like, you just say the word, but I think the job is calling. I mean, my phone buzzed and I think I—"
"Oh, right, right. Right. But if anything happens that gives you any sort of clue as to what's wrong with those guys, you let me know, ya hear?"
"Absolutely, Big Mike. I'll keep my ear to the ground and see what I can find out."
"Good man. Good luck with the job out there, huh?"
Smiling, Chuck excused himself and left the office, rushing to his own even as he pulled his phone out of his pocket and turned it over to read her text.
"Not sure you'd enjoy showing up right now. Lot of blood and tears." Chuck frowned and ducked into his office, shutting the door behind him and just staring down at the phone as she sent another text. "Max tripped fell bit his lip. Blood on his new shirt his hands my floor."
Chuck texted back immediately, feeling a little bit relieved that she seemed to have been kept from responding not by him saying something stupid that she didn't know how to answer, and instead she had to take care of her son. Not that he was glad Max hurt himself. "Oh no! Poor lil guy! I've done that. He ok?"
"It scared him more than anything. So he's not been happy the last 30 mins but he's ok thx for asking. :)"
Chuck sat in his chair and nibbled the inside of his cheek, trying to decide how to respond. "His lip look bad?"
"A little swollen but not bad. Definitely just spent a while trying to keep the blood from staining clothes. I'm sorry I couldn't get back to you." And there it was. "I actually wish you would show up with some of those stickers again. Might distract him. But I'm not putting that on you don't worry. ;) Are you free tonight?"
Chuck sat up straight so fast he nearly fell off of the chair altogether. Before he could get his bearings, she added, "I know. last minute and totally not fair. Was gonna ask earlier and then The Bite happened and it was like Jaws in here."
He chuckled and hurriedly sent back, "Oh man. I'm so free. I'm ok with last min. Shit, last second is fine too tbh. I've got a clear schedule."
Chuck tried to concentrate on work as best he could for the next fifteen minutes, but he kept grabbing his phone and looking at it, then putting it down, rinse and repeat… as if she'd texted back and his phone had just decided not to alert him to it.
But then his phone rang.
He grabbed it and stared at her name on his phone for a good five seconds before he cleared his throat, calmed himself, and answered. "Well, hello."
"Hi, there," she said warmly, and he sunk back into his chair with a grin on his face. "I, um, I am a mess. Today. With Max and his lip and not responding to your texts for ages. I'm sorry."
"No apology necessary. You had your hands full. How's Max?"
"Oh, he's fine. He's eating ice cream now so I'd say the injury was worth it at this point. Not really for me, though," she said drily.
He chuckled. "Uh, no. Washing blood out of clothes is never fun."
"So. Much. Blood. Such a tiny lip, so much freaking blood." She let out an, "Ugh." But then she changed tack before he could respond. "So did you mean it? You're free?"
"I'm very free."
"Oh." She paused. "Good." The second pause felt a little more hesitant than the first.
"Why? What's going on?"
"Well, um… Nothing's going on per se, but…Well, you know how Max tripped and bit his lip and everything. And he was really scared and upset—" She stopped then. "Just a second." It sounded like she'd draped her hand over the phone then, and he heard muffled voices. And then maybe the sound of a door shutting. "Hi, sorry," she rushed out then. "I'm sorry. I'm not alone."
"It's okay. Don't worry about it."
"Are you—I mean, I'm not keeping you from your job, am I?"
"You're saving me from my job," he corrected, smirking.
"Oh." She giggled. "Well, you're welcome." She sounded a little more at ease then when she spoke. "Do you wanna hang out tonight? Nothing…too intense. I-I mean, nothing extra formal or anything, if that's okay. I…don't have the energy for that." There was an awkward pause as he raised his eyebrows. "Not that I don't have the energy for you. It's not that, I'm… Shit."
"No, hey. I get it. I know that's not how you meant it. Don't worry. I would love to hang out. Did you get someone to watch your son?"
"Yeah, things just sort of worked out. That's what I was trying to say earlier and then my dad was…trying to talk to me. That is, I'm at my parents' house right now. I was trying to get Max to be okay, he was really just hollering, and I asked what would make him feel better and he wanted to see my parents so…"
Chuck smiled. "That's adorable."
She giggled. "Yeah, he loves his grandparents. So here we are. They're going to watch him tonight, have a fun little Grandma Grandpa and Max hangout without poor Mommy. I just know pretty soon here I'm gonna get expelled from the premises by the big ol' two and a half year old bouncer."
Laughing, he leaned his elbow on his desk and imagined the little boy he'd met last week puffing up his chest and lifting his chin, bouncing his mom out the door. "Well, hey, he's getting close to three, okay? He's entitled."
That made Sarah giggle. "You're right. My bad. Well, um, I-I don't know when you think you'll be free…?"
Chuck glanced at his watch. It was almost four. He'd been here since seven-thirty in the morning thanks to a false alarm with the store's security system. Big Mike had slept through the alarm company's phone call. Fuck this. "I'm actually almost done here," he chirped. "So whenever! Should I pick you up or…?"
"No, no, that's okay. I'll handle the driving this time. If…you don't mind that."
He raised his eyebrows. "No! I mean, no, I don't mind that. You sure?"
"Yes. Absolutely sure."
"Okay! Okay, um, well… Traffic being what it is around this time, I might need 'til five or so at least, just to…"
"How's six? I'm helping out around the house here anyway."
"Yeah. Yeah, that's perfect."
"Okay. Just text me your address, then. And I'll see you at six?"
"You absolutely will."
They said their goodbyes and he hung up the phone, bursting out of his chair and punching at the air like a madman.
}o{
Sarah held her son tightly, shutting her eyes and squeezing. She eased back a little and smiled at him. "Are you going to be good for Grandma and Grandpa?"
"Yeeaaah."
"Yes?"
"Yes." He nodded emphatically.
The swelling had gone down a lot on his lip after all of the ice cream he'd eaten, and the ice pack he'd only let his grandpa hold on his mouth. He was an enigma, this little guy. Depending on the day, depending on the situation, he had his favorites, his people he listened to better than others. His pediatrician warned her that as sweet as he was down to his core, Max Walker was also precocious, and extremely smart. The warning was clear. She'd better watch out. He was apt to get into trouble.
"Okay, good. And when they tell you it's time for a bath…?"
"I take a bat a'weadyyy," he whined.
"Yeah, that was last night, bucko. You need one tonight too. Especially after all of that running around in Grandma and Grandpa's yard." He made a whining sound and pouted. "Max. When they tell you it's bath time, it's bath time. No whining at them."
He nodded, still pouting. "Okay, Mommy."
"But hey, it's bath time with Grandma and Grandpa which is way better than bath time with Mommy." She gave him a look when he nodded in agreement. "You weren't supposed to agree with me. Geez."
He giggled as she dotted kisses on his face. He was trying to squirm out of her arms, and she laughed, setting him back down. "I love you. Be good, okay?"
Max hugged her leg, pressing his face against her jeans. "'ove oo too!" He scampered off to play with the blocks Jack had taken out for him.
"So what are you doing with your night of freedom, hm?" Emma asked, wrapping her arm around her daughter and walking her through the living room and out to the entryway.
Sarah felt a spike of excitement go through her and she carefully kept it from crossing her face, instead letting her mom see her exhaustion. "Honestly, I might take a nap. And then go right from the nap to sleeping. And then more sleeping."
She was lying blatantly to her mom's face about her plans. And it wasn't about Chuck, really. It was more about the fact that she wasn't sure she wanted to deal with Jack and Emma's reaction to the fact that she was going out on a date. She wasn't sure if she wanted to see that look her mom got when she wanted to say something, give her advice or some misplaced concerned spiel about responsibility. Her mom knew better than to actually say it most of the time. She would just hide it behind a tense smile.
Her dad was another story. He'd outright ask her what she was thinking exposing Max to some other deadbeat guy.
And she didn't need that cloud hanging over her for the rest of the night. She just wanted to be able to enjoy being around him again. It had been a week now and she could at least silently admit to herself that she'd missed him.
"You should see that new movie that's out that has that actress, um, Cate Blanchett. Getting Oscar buzz. Take advantage of not having to see one of those animated movies this time."
Sarah snorted. "Nah, I'm not wasting two hours of my freedom on sitting in a movie theater. I'll figure something out." She already had figured something out and she was a mixture of excitement and nerves.
Her mom pulled back then and gave her a dubious look. "Honey, you feel like you're all wound up, like…tense or something. Everything okay with you?"
"Yeah. Yeah, I'm okay, Mom. Just tired. I need this little break, just between us," she said, lowering her voice.
"Is it that case still?"
Sarah sighed and shrugged. "There's only so much I can get done in one day, Mom, and it's frustrating. And then Max with his lip… It sort of rattled me a lot. All the blood." She shivered.
"Mm yes. You fell and hit your chin on the bars when you were a little older than him, bit your lip. There was so much blood, I was more hysterical than you were. You just sat there blinking like you didn't know what had happened and I was trying to press tissues from my purse against your face." Emma shook herself and frowned. "Raising children isn't as easy as they make it sound."
Sarah tilted her head. "Who ever said it was easy?"
"Exactly."
They laughed together.
"Oh, by the way, Carina called the other day." Sarah froze, widening her eyes. "We had a nice, long chat. It's been ages since I spoke to that girl."
"You did?" Sarah nodded slowly, casually, controlling her features. "What, um, what'd you chat about?"
She knew she hadn't actually told Carina not to tell her parents about the fact that she'd gone on a date, and not with just anybody, but with the guy the Buy More had sent to help her with her computer when it was hacked for case information. With her dad's imagination, he'd assume Chuck was working with the "bad guys" or something. He'd call him an informant or some offensive shit.
"I told her to take care of herself, considering that case sounds so dangerous."
"Mom. You probably shouldn't be talking about stuff like that with her over the phone," she said in a warning tone, lowering her chin and peering at the shorter blonde through her eyelashes.
"Oh, come on. It's not like we talked details. I just wanted her to be careful, and to look out for you."
"Mom, I'm twenty-seven. And I've been doing this for a few years now. I'm okay. I don't need Carina looking out for me."
"You might, though. I mean, I wouldn't mind a few extra people out there watching your back. If this case is as serious as it sounds, you shouldn't think that you're…invincible, just because you've been okay up until now."
Sarah felt annoyance then, and she didn't want to. So she sighed and shook her head. "Mom, look, I know, okay? And I'm being careful. I promise. Carina and I have each other's backs."
"I just want you to be safe."
"I am."
"Okay. Okay, I get it. I'm being pushy," Emma said, holding her hands up defensively. Sarah hated when her parents did that. "I'll stop. Maybe tonight you can read some of that book I gave you finally. No two year old interrupting you."
Sarah inwardly thought there was no way in hell she was reading a book tonight. And she fought back the smirk at that thought.
"I might!" she lied.
"You know, Carina also mentioned something else." Oh, God…here it comes. "She said you've been trying to get her to babysit Max this week and she's just been too booked to be able to do it. Why don't you just ask us if Carina's so busy? You know you can ask us anytime, don't you?"
At least Carina hadn't seemed to tell Emma why she'd asked her to babysit so often in the last week. But this still put Sarah in a tough spot. How would she explain this to her mom?
"Well, um, I just thought…Carina always complains she never gets to spend quality time with Max."
"Oh, sure. I get that. I'm in the same boat," Emma teased, playfully pouting. "But if she's busy, just ask us! It sounds like you've been really needing this break, hon."
Her mom put a hand on her shoulder and rubbed comfortingly.
"Uh, yeah. Yeah, I have." She nodded. "With the case being so tough and, you know, getting hacked, having that dark cloud over my head. I've just been nervous and Max has been particularly fussy with that last molar coming in."
"Is that what that is?"
"Yeah, he's not having a good time with this last one."
"Aw, poor baby. Well, we'll get him something nice to make it feel better. Something cold, maybe."
"No more ice cream. He's already had way too much today."
"Fiiiine," Emma drawled, rolling her eyes. She sniffed in amusement and then squeezed Sarah's arm again.
Her dad popped out into the entryway then, one hand on the doorframe. "Hey, darlin'. Just a sec." He strolled over. "Going back to the office?"
"Um…why?" she asked, furrowing her brow.
"Think the PD can maybe put a detail on you or something now that those bastards put a target on you? I mean, I don't think you should be at that office alone when it gets dark anymore."
Sarah was close to snapping and she just barely resisted the urge. Her son was right in the next room over and her parents were doing her a huge favor, watching Max so that she could finally get that second date she'd been needing for a week.
"I'll talk to them about it," she said, wanting to just get out of there. Arguing, correcting him, would only keep her here longer.
"Good. That's good, darlin'. Proud of ya."
Sarah clenched her jaw and turned around to open the door. "Well, thanks so much, guys. I appreciate this, letting me have a night to myself."
They followed her out onto the porch and she hugged them both, trotting down the steps and crossing the sidewalk to where she'd parked her car. Checking her watch, she saw that she had maybe seventy minutes to get to Chuck's apartment on time.
And that meant deciding between swinging by her apartment to freshen up and change, swinging by In-N-Out to buy dinner which had been her plan since she'd gotten off the phone with Chuck a few hours earlier, or… she could do both and just tell him she'd be late.
As she got in behind the wheel, she saw her dad had stayed out on the porch, her mom having gone back inside. She gave him a look and wiggled her fingers in a wave, knowing he was standing out there like a sentinel or something, as if watching to see if anyone was following her.
It was ridiculous.
She was the only one in her family who actually knew how to spot a tail. It was part of her training. She hadn't gotten it off of a movie or TV show.
Rolling her eyes, she started her car and peeled off.
She wanted to freshen up and bring food, but she had already come off as enough of a mess to this guy, and having to push off her arrival past the time she'd originally given him would only add to the messy perception.
He'd been a saint already, but everyone had their breaking point.
She didn't like the idea of finding Chuck Bartowski's.
}o{
He got the text that she'd be running fifteen minutes late while he was pacing in the kitchen. Relief went through him. That was fifteen more minutes he'd have to prep himself for her arrival.
What did that even mean?
Well, he could puff the pillows on his couch again. He could straighten the big screen TV a little better after Morgan screwed it up shifting it to the side so that he could play Halo from his favorite corner of Chuck's couch. He'd have to fight not to open the oven again to look at his macaroni and cheese. Ellie had told him a million times before that he had a horrible habit of opening the oven too much when he was cooking or baking and that it wrecked the temperature inside of the oven and would take way longer than it needed to. So he'd leave the oven alone.
But what if she needed ham in her macaroni and cheese? What if she was allergic to cheese?
What if she had a gluten allergy?
Was she allergic to martinis?
No, he needed to take some deep breaths. And maybe check his hair in the mirror again. There was one curl that wouldn't stay the fuck down and it was making him feel nuts.
Decided, he went to the guest bathroom and pushed inside, looking at himself in the mirror. "You cleaned every inch of the apartment, Charles Irving Bartowski," he breathed, staring right into his own eyes. "Twice. You followed Ellie's recipe to a tee. It was the safer route to go with leaving out the ham. Just hit her with the simple mac'n'cheese. This is a nice shirt. Forest green is a good color for you. And these are your nicest jeans. Just chill the fuck out. You're fine. You're always fine."
He pushed against the rogue curl and it popped back up again. "Fuck you, curl."
He could always just grab scissors and cut it off but … no.
What if it was like the hydra and he cut off one curl only to have eight more sprout from where he cut it off? That would be weird.
God, he was weird.
How was this woman even still around? She was coming to his apartment for a date any minute now and he was just gobsmacked that this second date was even happening. After that conversation in the car all those days ago, when she was so close to potentially putting an end to something that was maybe, hopefully, just beginning, he was a bit on pins and needles.
This was harder than he'd thought it would be because Ellie was right in one way at least. (She was right in all ways, per usual.) Chuck wasn't even slightly aware of what he was getting into dating a single parent. And like he'd told Sarah over the phone, he was prepared to take it as it came, hurdles and all.
Because this woman was…
He smiled to himself, his eyes darting off to the side as he remembered the way she'd clambered up onto the top of his car with him, dubious about the whole concept and doing it anyway. She was sharp, too. Quick.
And of course she was sharp and quick, she was a freaking private investigator. She'd never get anywhere in a career like that without having sharp wit and a quick, precise intellect. She probably saw things nobody else saw. And then he wondered how much she'd seen about him on that date without him even realizing it.
Chuck's eyes widened. Really, what was she doing going out with him again? Jesus Christ, he was in over his head.
She was way too…
Knock knock knock.
…Here.
She was too here.
Shit, she was here.
He scrambled out of his bathroom and down the hall, eyeing the oven as he went past the kitchen. "Coming! I'm c—" The wood floors were cold on his feet. He looked down. He didn't put socks or shoes on. That was something he should've done probably, wasn't it? He felt like maybe he should've at least put something on his feet. Maybe?
He didn't do dates at home. At least, he hadn't before. Not since college when he lived in dorms and…
Crap, she was still standing out there.
No shoes or socks. Oh well.
He went to the door and opened it, and the last however many hours of panicked cleaning and TV shifting and pillow fluffing and hair smashing and the six shirts he'd changed into and out of before settling on this one, all flitted out of his brain.
Because there she was.
"Hi," she said with a cute one shoulder shrug, smiling a smile that felt like the entire hallway was lit up.
Chuck took a risk. He went full goofball, letting her see his utter relief as he wordlessly lifted both fists up high over his head, tilting said head back and shutting his eyes, biting his lip. It was a moment of utter joy and relief. Success.
She was here, standing in front of him. Date number two. Yessssss!
Sarah cracked up, glee lighting her face as he blinked his eyes open, lowered his arms, and beamed at her.
"Hey. Date number two. We're doing it. You're here," he breathed, grinning.
"I am, and thank you for the cutest greeting ever. Way to make my day literally immediately."
So the risk had paid off then. Definitely. Score.
She sighed then. "I'm really sorry I'm late, it was closer to twenty minutes instead of fifteen but as usual, the line was a little bit…nuts." Line? She lifted the hand she'd had down at her side and he saw a bulging In-N-Out bag dangling from her fingers.
Her other hand had a drink holder with…three drinks in it, he noticed. He'd taken quite a few math classes at Stanford and he knew what three drinks looked like.
"Oh. Oh! Wow!" Crap. He just realized what the bag of food in her hand meant.
"If you're going to be late, at least show up with some In-N-Out, right?" She looked sheepish, showing her teeth in a half smile, half wince. "Or…on the other hand…" Sarah rolled her eyes at herself. "Don't get In-N-Out and just show up on time."
He chuckled and opened the door all the way for her, gesturing for her to come in. "You warned me you'd be late. I'm not fussed. Anyway, this isn't a coronation or anything. We're just…hangin'." He winced at himself for that last part. "Or, you know, whatever. Twenty minutes isn't a big deal."
Chuck shut the door behind her as she stepped inside and he let himself take her in as she faced away from him, sweeping her gaze across his apartment. She wore a short-sleeve blouse made out of some kind of silky blue material, blue jeans, and brown boots that disappeared under her pant legs. And she had a small brown leather purse with a long strap slung across her torso. Some of her blond hair was tied back from her face but the rest of it hung down over her shoulders in waves.
"This is a nice apartment," she chirped, turning back to face him. He felt a bit of awkward tentativeness creeping in and he wanted to beat it back with a freaking baseball bat. "I like the way everything is, um, situated."
"Oh! Thank you. Thanks. Yeah, uh, my sister and her boyfriend helped with that when I first moved in."
"Nice of them. How long have you lived here?"
"About a year and a half maybe? Or longer? Crap, maybe closer to two." He decided not to say that he'd lived with said sister and her boyfriend before that because he hadn't been able to afford his own place. He'd let her think literally anything else for now.
He chuckled then as she lifted the bag of food with raised eyebrows.
"Wait, you have to see something. Follow me."
Furrowing her brow and smirking, she drawled, "Ooookay…" and he led her into the kitchen. "Oh, I like the tile backsplash here. That's pretty."
"Thanks! Came with the place," he said, and then he went to the oven. He was opening it in spite of it still having five minutes of cooking time left. If he didn't open it, it'd ruin the effect.
Grabbing the handle, he pulled the oven door open and gestured inside. "Ta da!" He laughed as her jaw dropped. "Yeah, I, um…"
"Shit!" she exclaimed, shutting her eyes and rolling her head back. "Oh, shit. I didn't say anything about bringing food. I didn't warn you. Oh my God, I suck! I'm so sorry." She opened her eyes again and gestured miserably at the casserole dish in the oven with the bag of fast food she was holding.
"No, I should've told you I was making something." They both stopped and turned to look at one another. There was a beat and he saw a glint of amusement in her blue eyes. They both laughed then, and he shook his head. "Well, look at us go."
Sarah set the bag on his counter top. "Seriously. That's one strike."
"Three and we're out? What's that gonna look like?"
"Um, I don't wanna know." She smirked. "I think we should just eat that because it took effort…" She set down the drinks next to the In-N-Out bag. "What is it, anyway?"
Chuck turned off the timer altogether and grabbed oven mitts, slipping them onto his hands. "Baked macaroni and cheese, compliments of Ellie Bartowski's recipe brain," he answered, leaning into the oven and carefully lifting the casserole dish out.
"Lemme get that." She shut the oven door for him and then watched as he put the dish down on the stove. She seemed to freeze, her body going rigid. "W-wait, you made that from scratch?"
She had a strange look on her face, almost a blank look as she blinked at him first, then down at the macaroni and cheese.
"Yeah. I-I mean, except for the noodles. Those aren't from scratch. I bought a box of elbow macaroni," he said, grinning. "I wasn't in my kitchen all day making pasta from scratch. That-That'd be kind of nuts."
She laughed and then she shook her head at him, almost as if in awe. "You really cooked."
"Um. Yeah! I mean, it isn't, like, a whole five course meal or anything. Pretty easy. You just do the stacky-stack with the noodles and cheese and diced onion and then you pour the milk and egg stuff over it all, do the bread crumbs, and boom. In the oven. The rest is just…waiting. It's still baking in there under the lid, which is why I took it out a little earlier than usual."
"You…cooked something. For me to eat."
He narrowed his eyes, not quite sure where this was going. "I…did. Yeah."
Chuck watched as Sarah shifted her weight to her other foot and pursed her lips, twisting them to the side shyly, crossing her arms. "That was…really sweet of you."
"Well, you are at my apartment around dinner time, so I figured I gotta feed ya somethin'." He chuckled, tugging the mitts off and setting them on the counter. "But I can save this. I mean, you spent money on those burgers."
"No! You cooked that, Chuck. That's a big deal! You put time and effort into it. And it smells delicious."
Chuck sighed, eyeing the bag wantonly. "But…In-N-Out." Oh. Wait. Genius. He snapped his fingers, an idea occurring to him. "Watch this."
She laughed as he walked around to the table where he'd already set plates and silverware, grabbing the plates and coming back.
"You're going to be so impressed," he informed her, smirking. And then he went into the bag, the delicious scent of grilled beef, secret sauce, and fried potatoes assailing his senses. "Oh my God, you're the best for bringing this into my apartment. I need you to know that."
Giggling, she watched him struggle with taking the burger carefully out of the bag, before she reached over and tore the bag right down the middle, revealing the treasure to their hungry gazes.
"Oh. Well!"
Sarah shrugged, a smug look on her face. "That's the only right way to do it. Sorry. I don't make the rules."
Chuck cracked up. "Noted! Je-SUS."
He positioned the burgers just so on the plate. And then he set each container of fries beside the burgers, tilted just so, leaving a third of the plate open for…
Carefully slipping one of the mitts onto his hand, he took the lid off of the dish and set it to the side, steam hitting him right in the face.
"Oh my God, Chuck, that's beautiful!" She sidled up next to him and took a long whiff. "And it smells amazing. I really can't believe you did this."
She was right. It did look beautiful. He'd gotten the breadcrumbs to the perfect reddish orange color with the crispiness of the butter baked into it, and the cheese was melted. He'd find out if the egg had been cooked all the way when he cut into it.
"Don't be so sure until you actually taste it," he teased, grabbing a knife and slicing through. He gave each of them a large helping, and then he gestured to it with a "Voila! A plating masterpiece if I do say so myself."
Sarah laughed and shook her head, leaning her hip against the counter. "I have to say, you're kind of a genius, finding a compromise in this situation that seemed truly insurmountable at first."
"I live by the mantra that nothing is insurmountable."
"Nothing, huh?" she asked, a small smile on her face as she grabbed both of the plates and walked them over to the table.
"Nothing," he answered with an emphatic nod. "What're these?" he asked then, peering at the drinks she'd brought in. "And why three? Do we have a third showing up?"
"No," she chuckled, coming back around to stand next to him and taking the drinks out of the holder.
"Oh, good. I was gonna say, that's not really how a date works, Sarah."
She sent him a look and bumped his hip with hers, and then she smirked, gesturing at the drinks. "Vanilla, chocolate, and strawberry. I didn't know if you have a preference or…well, even really if you like milkshakes. Oops. Didn't think about that."
"Oh, I love milkshakes! But you've put me in a tough spot here, Sarah. By bringing all three flavors and asking me to choose…well, now I have to choose. And that's… I don't know if I can," he said dramatically.
She raised her eyebrows. "Is that so, Mr. Nothing Is Insurmountable?"
He rocked forward he laughed so hard. "God damn, throwing my own words back at me. I deserved that."
Sarah giggled with her tongue between her teeth and just beamed at him. "Choose."
He got another idea then, and turned an almost dastardly look on Sarah. She inched back, a dubious look on her own face. "Do you trust me?" he asked her in a low voice.
"I'm not sure I should with the look you currently have on your face."
He felt something twist in his chest at the flirtatious tone in her voice, and the special sparkle in her eyes. He pressed his lips together and narrowed his eyes. "I won't let you down."
"Okay, I'll bite. I trust you."
Chuck went into his cupboard and pulled two large milkshake glasses out, going back to the counter. And with the precision of a chemist, he emptied all three of the milkshake cups into the two glasses in layers: chocolate, then strawberry, then vanilla, chocolate, strawberry, vanilla…repeating the pattern until he'd filled both practically to the brim.
Sarah laughed the whole time, exclaiming, "Oh my God, are you serious?!"
He went into a drawer and tugged two curly, wide straws out, one green, the other blue. "Blue or green?"
"What are these?" she giggled. "You realize I have a two year old son and I don't even have straws like these, right?"
"I'll take the L, it's fine," he said with a shrug, chuckling.
She laughed and then took the blue straw, shoving it into one of the glasses. "You're a bag of thrills, Chuck Bartowski."
"Huh. First time someone said that to me."
They laughed together and walked back to the table, sitting down across from one another to eat, the warmth emanating between them as they dug in.
A/N: In-N-Out counts as plot.
I don't make the rules. Please review. I really appreciate them a whole lot.
-SC
