The Nerd Versus the P.I. Family
By Steampunk . Chuckster
A/N: All those "this doesn't have enough plot" folks are gonna have a rough time of it with this chapter. Oh well.
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.
He felt like such an idiot. She'd been gone for at least five minutes, putting her son to bed, and he'd been working on this freaking fail safe no-spill kiddie cup's lid trying to figure out how in the hell to separate it from the actual cup.
Was he stupid? Was it him? Was it even supposed to come off?
If he used brunt force and broke it, he'd have to explain to Sarah what had happened and that would be so God damn mortifying. He didn't want to break Max's cup. Where did you even buy another one of these? What if it was expensive? It had some sort of Swedish sounding name. What if she got it special from Sweden? He'd absolutely be paying for another one, but still… What the hell was up with this thing?
It didn't twist off. He'd tried twisting in both directions. Righty tighty, lefty loosey... But no. Of course the fuck not. No tighty, no loosey. The fuckin' thing didn't even fuckin' budge.
And he didn't know why he was getting so mad at a little cup. But fuck this little cup. If a grown-ass man couldn't figure the thing out… Like, what the crap? He'd double majored in computer engineering and physics while he was at Stanford and he couldn't open this shit. Who the fuck made this?
Stupid fucking…
"Fuck," he snapped under his breath, finally putting it down in the sink, hearing the dregs of liquid inside sloshing, almost as if it was mocking him.
"You, uh…okay there, champ?"
He spun on his heel, eyes wide.
And there stood Sarah, arms crossed, eyebrows raised, her lips pressed into a thin line, quivering as if she was trying to keep from showing too much amusement. But her eyes were sparkling with mirth enough for the rest of her, and he knew she was amused. Damn it.
She was laughing at him.
"I deserve it," he mumbled. "I can't open a cup that's for friggin' toddlers to keep them from spilling. I'm supposed to be smart and I can't open the stupid cup to clean it. Get out your laughs. Go 'head. I can take it," he teased. And still, in spite of the teasing, he was genuinely embarrassed as he crossed his arms at his chest.
Sarah uncurled her own and giggled. "I'm not laughing at you. Do you know how long it took for me to figure that stupid thing out?" She crossed to his side and reached around him into the sink, picking it up. "I was ready to return it to the store and get a different one I could actually open. Felt like I had to solve a damn Rubik's cube to get it open."
"Solve the Bridgekeeper's riddle to cross the Cup Opening Bridge." She made a face at him as he hunched over and growled, "What is your naaaame? What is your quest? What is your favorite color?"
"I don't know what you're doing," she said, giggling and leaning her hip against the counter. "But Sarah Walker, raising my kid to be a really good person, and maroon." Chuck straightened up, not expecting her to answer, or for her answer to be so sincere and sweet, and he found himself smiling quietly at her. "Also, you gotta do that for Max sometime. He loves weird voices. It'd probably get his funny bone good."
"That's a deal," he chuckled. "Also, you went full-on fancy with your last answer. Maroon? Not red, or even purple. But maroon. Wow. You sure it isn't...amethyst or something?"
She laughed. "Shut up. Maroon is a legitimate color, the perfect medium between purple and red. And I look good in it," she said, shrugging one shoulder cutely.
"Oh, please. Like I said before, you look good in freaking every single color. A full outfit of beige on beige on more beige and you'd still stand out in any room." He added, "in a good way", just for good measure.
Sarah's smile was slow as she watched him. "Thank you," she said quietly then, biting her lip and ducking her gaze to the cup she held. "So what was that? Some kind of cartoon or something? A comic book thing?"
And just like that, she popped the lid off of the cup. He gaped at her as she dumped it in the sink and turned on the water, rinsing it.
"What? How did you…?"
"Here." She held up the cup for him to see. "You twist and tug at the same time."
He groaned as he watched her snap the lid back on, then get it off by literally…twisting and pulling. "That explains it. I was twisting. And tugging. But not at the same time." He shook his finger at the cup. "Ahh. That's tricky."
Sarah giggled and moved to step around him, sticking the cup in the dishwasher. "I admire your determination, though, Chuck…working on trying to get the lid off for the entire time I was getting Max to sleep."
"It was less determination and more…ineptitude. Anger and ineptitude."
"Awww, come on," she laughed, squeezing his arm.
He almost said something else entirely, but then what she'd asked earlier landed in his head and he blinked at her. "Hold on. Did you just ask…? A cartoon? A comic book? Really? The Bridgekeeper?" She looked confused as he stared. "The Bridgekeeper… What about this? Does this ring a bell?" He cleared his throat. "Your mother was a hamster. And your father smelt of elderberries," he said in his best French accent.
Sarah snorted. "I have no idea what any of this is."
"Monty Python and the Holy Grail?"
"Is that some sort of cartoon I should know since I have a two year old?"
Chuck groaned and covered his curls with both hands. "Nooo, it isn't a cartoon. It's a satire on King Arthur and his quest for the… Never mind. And, um, Max is probably young yet for this one." He winced. "It's not for kids probably. Though I did watch it as a kid for the first time. So… hm."
"It's called Monty Python and it's for…adults?" she asked, raising an eyebrow.
He shrugged. "Well, yeah. It's…" Then he stopped himself and actually thought about it. "Yeah, you know what? That's a fair point. Totally fair." He nodded his head in the direction of the hallway then. "How'd it go? Max sleeping?"
"Probably by now. He was being good and lying down to sleep even as he resisted the actual sleep part. But then his eyelids started drooping and I knew I had to just go so he couldn't see me anymore." She rolled her eyes. "If Mommy doesn't need sleep, neither does he."
"Mommy does need sleep." He caught himself and cleared his throat when she raised her eyebrows at him. "I-I mean, y-you do need sleep. It's important."
She smiled at him. "Yeah, I know. But…not yet." The way the P.I. looked up at him through her eyelashes, so shy and tentative, made him want to stay until the sun came up. Later even. As long as she wanted him here.
"Not yet," he simply said, smiling back. He took that as an invitation, so he didn't awkwardly make his way towards the door to get out of her hair so that she could get some sleep, the way he'd planned to once she came back from putting Max to bed.
"I can put coffee on if you want some."
"Only if you're having some. Don't put any on just for me."
"Oh I'm having some. It's been a fucking week," she said, lowering her voice and glancing over her shoulder, as if her son might hear her curse from all the way in his room. Then she reached over and took his hand, turning back to smile. "Come with me. I want to talk to you."
Chuck's eyes must've widened as she gave him a tug and pulled him along with her towards the kitchen. He couldn't help the spike of nerves. It was never good when someone specifically said 'I want to talk to you', or even worse, 'We need to talk'.
Sarah saw it and giggled. "No, I literally just want to talk to you, not about anything in particular. It's been a while since we've gotten to just…talk. You and me, without this…hacking and chameleon shit being a part of it."
He sagged in relief and chuckled. "Oh. No, you're right. Sorry. Usually that's a harbinger of a difficult conversation."
"It is. I shouldn't have said it like that." She started the coffee, letting go of his hand, and she sent him an amused but also genuinely regretful look over her shoulder. "Sorry."
"S'okay." He shrugged. "You can say stuff however you…want to…say stuff." She gave him a look and he winced. "I don't know. I have no idea what I'm saying. Sorry." He scratched behind his ear. "I'm…being awkward. Can you feel it? Can you feel me filling the air with awkward? Or is it just me?"
Sarah paused, then stopped scooping the coffee grounds altogether, setting it all down and turning to face him. She closed the small bit of distance and peered up at him, not touching him, just peering. "It is a little…awkward in here," she said quietly. "Why?"
"Me. Definitely me. I'm why. I brought it into the kitchen with me." He cleared his throat. "I guess I'm nervous? I don't know why. Before you ask."
She shifted her weight. "Do I make you nervous?"
"I guess so. Only sometimes. Sometimes I'm a full-blown grown up and I can handle being around you without getting awkward and sweaty-palmed. I wish now was one of those times but it…isn't. I don't know why." He shook his head breathlessly.
"I'm sorry I make you nervous," she said, reaching out to rub the material of his shirt between her fingers. He didn't know why that set him at ease a little but it did. It was such a cute little thing for her to do.
"Oh it's okay. You haven't done anything. I'm just kind of ridiculous."
Sarah made a dubious face, let go of his shirt and went back to the coffee. "I don't know if I'd call what you just did to help Carina ridiculous. Impressive? Yes. Ridiculous? Definitely not." She smirked over her shoulder at him and poured water into the top of the machine, flipping the top closed and hitting start.
The sound of the coffee brewing filled the air as she turned back to him. "You're kind of a marvel, Chuck. The things you can do with computers is sort of, um, astounding."
She hadn't even seen the start of what he could do with computers. But he didn't want to say that out loud. Not only would it be boasting, but it would hint at things he'd done in his past that he definitely shouldn't have. Illegal things. She was a private investigator with a lawyer in the Los Angeles DA's office for a best friend and deep ties to the LAPD. It probably wasn't the best idea to let her in on that part of his past. Just in case.
What she'd seen him do was just the tip of the iceberg. If that.
"It's a born talent, I guess. Genes probably. From my dad."
"Your dad was good with computers?"
"Mhm." He nodded. "He was a computer engineer. That's, um," he started, and then he paused, uncomfortable suddenly. He crossed his arms at his chest, leaning back against the counter and squinting out of the kitchen into the living room, clearing his throat. "I majored in computer engineering in college to get some brownie points I guess. Dumb," he said with a scoff. "Like, I actually expected him to notice. Spoiler alert, he did not." He could feel her gaze on the side of his face, quiet and contemplative. "But I did get a fancy degree out of it, and I'm doing fuck all with that."
"Hey now. You have a good job, your own apartment, in LA no less. You're incredible at your job, too. You help people. I mean, look what you've done for me and Carina. Singlehandedly protecting our case, our freaking jobs. That's not 'fuck all', Chuck."
He turned to look at her. "I don't mean to trivialize what happened with you and Carina, I mean that you both almost had serious repercussions come out of this with your careers—"
"No, no, no. That's not what I'm getting at." Sarah reached out to squeeze his forearm. "I know you understand the seriousness of all of this. But that's what I mean. Your work that you do is life-saving in a lot of ways. People keep their lives, their careers," she pointed to herself, "on their laptops. And guys like you protect that. That's no small thing."
"I know," he said, shrugging, nodding. "I thought I'd be somewhere else at this point. Doing something else. Changing the world or fixing the world with technology. Crap, like… Even creating a game that took the world by storm. And when I look at where I actually am right now, it's…kind of a bummer." He huffed, realizing this was the first time he was alone with her, really alone for longer than, like, ten minutes since the last actual date they were on, and honestly he couldn't even place when that had been. And he was spending it by being a woe-is-me sad sack. "Jesus, sorry. I'm good. I'm fine." He straightened up and blushed, ruffling his hair sheepishly. "Sorry. I didn't mean to bring this downer energy into your kitchen."
"First with your awkward energy, now with your downer energy. What's next, Chuck? God." They just looked at each other, and then he broke into laughter. She shook her head with a self-deprecating look, grinning. "Sorry, that was dumb," she chuckled, rolling her eyes.
When they sobered up a little, she shifted closer to him and bumped his shoulder with hers. "You know, you don't have to be Mr. Happy Go Lucky every time you're around me. Like you're this gleaming ball of happiness that fixes whatever mood I'm in. That wouldn't be a fair expectation. You're a human being. And yeah, being around you does make me feel good," she said, ducking her eyes shyly, "but I don't need you to be sunshine personified every single moment to feel good around you. God knows I'm not. I fell asleep during our second date," she scoffed with a snort.
Chuck smirked, not saying anything. Instead, he thought about what she'd just said. Maybe she didn't have those expectations, that he be 'sunshine personified' every second he was with her, but he thought maybe he'd been putting that expectation on himself.
And without really paying attention to his own damn filter, he muttered, "I'd just really like it if you continued wanting to spend time with me, and I suppose I have this preconceived notion or whatever that it's less fun being around a downer of a person." He realized how that sounded and shook his head. "I haven't been putting on an act or anything, though. Can I just say that? What you've been seeing is pretty much what you get. I've been me. Myself. That's why that whiney shit about my degree being useless came out of me. You make it easy for me to feel like I can just say the stuff I feel." He rolled his eyes and thrusted his arms out to each side as if putting himself on presentation for her. "Case in point. My rambling right now. At this moment. Jesus, I really can't stop myself, can I?"
She smiled, her eyes bright. "Please don't stop yourself. I want you to feel comfortable saying what you feel around me. You don't have to be my personal mood-turnarounder. At least not all the time," she added with a teasing nudge and a closed-mouth smile.
Chuckling, he nodded once. "Thank you. I'll try to keep that in mind. Thanks for the grace." He put a hand over his heart melodramatically, making her snort. "But if it's all the same to you, I'd prefer to be your personal mood-turnarounder more often than not."
"I'm not mad about that." She giggled, moving onto her tiptoes, bracing a gentle hand on his shoulder as she pressed her lips to his cheek in a long kiss. "You're sweet." She sighed and moved away then as the coffee machine beeped. "So can I ask you a question, then? Going back a bit…"
"Sure." He watched her pull mugs down, filling them. "Black is good," he said when she raised an eyebrow and pointed at one of the mugs. She handed it to him and he smiled. "Thank you."
"Welcome. I wanna know what you were angling to do when you decided to major in computer engineering. What was your plan, I mean? What'd you want to do with that? You gave me a quick outline just then but…really. What'd you really want to do?"
Chuck pursed his lips, taking a tiny sip of the hot liquid in the mug she'd handed him. "Oh, the plan was always to go back to the Buy More, the shining beacon on the hill of retail. Fool around a little, trip my way into a big promotion for a job they created for me, sit in a musty office at the back of the store with bent up blinds and field the brunt of the complaints when a Nerd Herder upsets a customer." She gave him a powerfully flat look and he winced. "Too sarcastic? Yeeeeah," he drawled. He sighed. "I wanted to start my own tech company. Eventually. At this point in my life, I saw myself on the ascent in the tech industry." Glancing at her, he continued. "You know, apps and games and software. And by the time I hit thirty, I'd already have at least one yacht."
Sarah snorted, letting out a quiet giggle. "A yacht? Really?" She wrinkled her nose in displeasure. "You don't seem like a yacht kind of guy."
"I'm not," he chuckled. "So maybe not the yacht. If I wanted that yacht experience, I could always hit up one of my fellow tech CEO buddies and ask to borrow theirs for the night. Take some gorgeous woman out on the water, pop a bottle of champagne, lobster, the whole spread."
"Oh God," she groused, laughing at him.
Giving her a cheeky grin, he winked. "Nah, not the yacht. But I wouldn't say no to a private jet. Flying economy with all those people, hacking, coughing, sneezing. Total cesspool."
She cracked up. "Yeah, you know what? I'm not gonna knock you for the private jet. That would be really nice."
"Right?"
"Ugh, I have no idea how Max would be on a plane. It'd be so much easier to field his reaction without a hundred people sitting around us."
"I'm sorry I can't provide the private jet experience for you and Max," he said. "Maybe in some alternate universe, that Chuck has the kind of success necessary."
"Oh that's okay," she giggled. "That's not exactly anything I expect considering the life I lead, so no harm done." She shook her head.
"Max hasn't flown in a plane yet?"
"Nope. He knows what they are, and he knows what they're for, but we've never flown anywhere. Haven't had a reason to yet. But someday we will and I worry sometimes. You know, those late night, trying to fall asleep, moments when stuff like that pops into your head."
"Ah yes." He nodded emphatically. "For me, it's always that I remember the time in eleventh grade when Cecilia Salgado finally looked at me, for the first time in the three years I had a crush on her, and she turned and asked if I had an extra black pen she could use, and my mouth got caught saying 'of course' and 'for sure' at the same time, and I practically yelled, 'FOR COURSE!' in her face."
Sarah cracked up, having to set her mug down on the counter, leaning forward with her hands on her knees. "Oh no, Chuck! You poor thing."
"Yeah," he chuckled. "I still think about it at like two in the morning when I can't fall asleep, and I get mortified all over again. Almost a decade later. Jesus." He shook his head.
She was still laughing as she straightened up and let her fingers play with his hair. "Everybody has a moment like that, and you're right, it does always seem to come back when you're trying to fall asleep in the middle of the night."
He grinned. "Well, even if I'd managed an 'of course' or a 'for sure', instead of a horrific hybrid of the two, I'm pretty sure it wouldn't have been love at first sight anyway."
"Her loss," she said warmly, smiling. "I'm the one who gets to stand here in my kitchen sipping my coffee next to you. And she's…"
"Morgan Facebook stalked her for me last year because he's a good friend like that," he droned sarcastically, making her snort, "and it turns out that Cecilia Salgado lives near the beach in Cartagena, practicing medicine in Spain."
"Oh come on."
"I know," he laughed. "It's actually funny." Shaking his head, he shrugged. "I'm glad for her. She was super smart and talented and a good person."
"Hence the crush?"
"Yep." He felt the need to add, "But I'd still take this over the beach in Cartagena. Standing in this kitchen, sipping coffee with you. If ten-years-ago-me saw you, he'd agree with now-me."
Sarah tilted her head and smiled, her lips in a bit of a pout. "That was very effective," she drawled quietly, moving up to kiss the corner of his mouth. He stooped just a little to make it easier for her. But then she patted him on the chest with her free hand. "But we both know it's because I'm a private eye."
He laughed. "While that certainly helps, if the P.I. whose office I walked into that day hadn't been you, there's no way I'd be here."
She shifted her weight, looking down into her coffee. "Well, yeah, I don't know how else you'd find your way into my kitchen."
Chuck laughed, genuinely charmed by her quiet, shy teasing.
Carina's teasing, as much as she seemed to mean well, had a sharp edge to it, some snap that Sarah had apparently found to be a little much earlier, hence the way she'd dragged her into the kitchen to reprimand her.
Sarah's teasing was offbeat, quiet, no sharp edges, and he felt like she was much less sure of herself in the delivery than Carina was. Maybe she just did it a lot less often, she picked her time and her targets carefully. He felt lucky to be her target when she teased him. And with Carina, it almost felt like she was always just barely bordering on acerbic, cutting even, no matter who she was teasing.
Maybe Max was the only one who escaped being one of her targets.
"You know what I mean," he finally said, jabbing her lightly with his elbow and taking another tiny sip of his hot coffee. "I have no intention of quitting on this," he said seriously then, turning to look right into her eyes. "And it's not because I'm fulfilling some lifelong dream of dating a P.I., it's because you're magnificent and I want to be around you so bad it hurts."
Sarah let out a hard breath, shaking her head almost. And then she set her mug down and grabbed his to set beside it. "The way you say things sometimes…" She didn't finish that, instead cupping his face and going up on her tiptoes to kiss him square on his mouth.
His heart played a fluttery pattern against his ribcage as he stepped into her and wrapped his arms around her, cradling her close. When they finally broke the kiss a minute later, she leaned up to peck him on the lips one more time, almost for good measure, and she eased back down from her tiptoes with a wide smile.
Chuck didn't relinquish her from his hold, merely standing close, letting himself enjoy the swoop of the small of her back under his fingers, her chest pressed into his, how her smooth hands felt still cupping his jaw, the way she'd pushed her fingers into his hair at the nape of his neck.
Gently leaning his forehead into hers, he let the silence stay there between them, the air around them equal parts warmth and heat.
Sarah finally pulled away and pressed her back into the counter, leaning both palms on it on either side of her hips. She glanced away from him and he had an urge to lean in and press his lips to the graceful swoop of her jawline. He stayed put, and then he turned to grab his coffee, lifting it to his lips and gulping it. He held back a wince. How was it still hot, hot enough to hurt? Damn it.
"You okay?"
"Ahem. Yes. Forgot it was hot. I'm good." He held up a hand and nodded.
She smirked at him. "Need some water?" He shook his head, embarrassed. "Want to sit on my couch?" she asked. Rather, she sort of blurted it, nearly making him jump. She seemed to almost make herself jump. "Sorry, I just—It's more comfortable than standing here."
"Oh. Of course. Makes sense. Yeah, the couch. Sounds. Um, nice." It sounds nice? Jesus.
It was a couch, not a worker at the DMV.
Miserable at his own awkwardness, he followed after her, letting his face crumble in embarrassment for a moment as she had her back to him. He schooled his features quick when she turned to glance back at him and he knew his grin was too big, too toothy, for her to fall for it.
She didn't let on though. Which was kind of her.
"So is this what Sarah Walker's life is like after hours? Coffee on the couch? Enjoying the quiet in the apartment after the cool little dude goes to sleep?"
Plopping onto the couch with a snort, she shook her head. "Oh God, no way. Unless I have a case that's forcing me awake, I usually use this opportunity to get some sleep myself."
He chuckled, joining her. "Makes sense. Gotta sleep when he does."
"Yeah, he's not a bad sleeper. Tonight's special because people…" She paused, biting her lip. "Well, people don't tend to visit that often. So having a new person here got him all riled up I think. He didn't want to miss anything. So he was resisting sleep."
"Oh, I get like that too. I tend to just pass out at old person times unless I'm playing video games and I just can't stop the mission I'm on or something. But when new people are at my apartment?" He whistled low, making her giggle.
"You're a goof." She sent him a flirtatious smile then. "What kinds of new people are coming to your apartment late at night, Chuck?"
His eyes popped wide. "Uh."
She laughed. "Wow. Okay, good to know."
"Stopppp," he drawled, chuckling. "You know full well I was teasing and there are no new people showing up at my apartment. We've had this discussion about me not getting dates. You know what? The more I say that to you, the less I feel like melting down into a puddle and hiding under a couch. Not sure if that's a good thing or a bad thing."
Sarah laughed again. "Do me a favor and try to stay in your solid form, huh? I don't want to watch TV next to a puddle." She leaned forward and grabbed the remote from the coffee table, setting her mug down. "I've got a two year old who's just barely getting past the worst of the potty training. I've had enough puddles to last me a lifetime."
He hadn't expected that and he just barely bit back a raucous laugh. Instead his mouth fell open, pretending to be affronted as he pressed his hand to his chest, setting down his own mug next to hers. "Excuse me? Did you just compare me to number one?" She furrowed her brow in confusion. "Pee, Sarah. Urine."
She cracked up, muffling it in her shirt, falling back against the pillows and pressing the remote to her forehead as she shook with laughter. "So is he the two year old, or are we the two year olds?" she asked through adorable giggles.
"It's a toss-up," he chuckled. "Jury's out."
"Fuck that jury. I'm a grown woman."
He giggled this time, struck again by how much he thoroughly liked this woman. "You're loopy, aren't you?"
"A little," she said, shrugging one shoulder, biting her lip. "You mind much?"
"God no. Whatever the opposite of minding is, that's…what I am. Full disclosure, I'm also feeling a bit loopy. Just a skosh." Seeing how comfortable she was in her own home, lounged back against the arm of the couch, her limbs loose as she tilted the remote towards the TV and turned it on, filled him with a deep sense of belonging. And that, in turn, made him loosen up. Like magic, he suddenly felt a giddy tiredness assail him. And he sunk back a bit against her couch like he would watching TV in his own home.
"Good. We can be loopy and watch—What the fuck is this?"
Chuck turned his attention to the TV. He tilted his head, confused. "Is this…what kids watch these days?"
"I have no fuckin' clue," she muttered. And then her feet lifted from where they'd been planted on the floor in front of her couch and were on his lap. Just like that. She froze when she felt him freeze and she gave him a wide-eyed look, immediately pulling her knees back to her chest to get her legs off of him. "I'm sorry. I—"
But she stopped when he grabbed her legs and put them back in his lap. He decided to just play it off and spare her an embarrassing apology or explanation. "Aren't you the one with a two and a half year old son? And you don't know what kids are watching?"
"He isn't a kid. He's a toddler. And I try not to let him just, like, languish in front of screens all damn day. We have special times we watch something together here and there, and I'm absolutely sure that my parents and Carina let him watch way more TV than I do," she said in a flat voice. "Even though I ask them not to let him do that." He winced sympathetically. "So I have no clue what in hell's name this monstrosity is. It's freaky. How aren't kids having nightmares?"
"I don't know. But if this guy flicks his suspenders one more time, I'm going to call the cops."
Sarah threw her head back with a laugh. "I've got a direct line to some of 'em. I'll help you out."
"Oh, thanks," he said with a snort. Then she turned the channel to a replay of the preseason Lakers/Clippers game he'd watched the day before. He put one of his hands on her shin, leaving it there, careful to keep his eyes on the swoop of the basketball surging through the air, the clang of the ball bouncing off of the rim and out for a Clippers rebound.
She didn't move her leg. So he kept his hand there, squeezing gently. "You like this sport? It's called, like, HORSE or something, right?" The nonchalant look on her face broke and she giggled, watching him for a response.
He decided not to let her down, his mouth falling open. He did a dramatic double take too. "Whaaa? HORSE?" He laughed and she giggled again, her tongue between her teeth. "Even if you'd lived under a rock for fifty years, you'd have to know that this, my dear, is the ultimate sport. It is…drumroll please…"
"No."
"No?"
"Too much work." She giggled again as he made a face at her, charmed out of his mind by her loopy antics.
"Fine. No drumroll. This is basketball, Sarah Walker. Besides maybe, like, hockey or something, it's the fastest moving sport of 'em all. Never boring. It's a small court, so—"
"Their shoes squeak too much, though."
Chuck clamped his mouth shut so hard his teeth clicked. He slowly turned his head to gape at her.
"What?" She shrugged. "They do. It's annoying. I'd have to watch on mute." She extended her arm holding the remote and hit mute, the sound on the TV ending abruptly. "See? Much better."
"Wow. Wow, okay. So the squeaking shoes are just something you can't get passed. A dealbreaker. Noted."
"Mhmm. Squeaking shoes are a turn off."
Chuck tilted his head as he looked at her, pressing his lips together. "A turn off?" he chuckled. "Are we making sports sexual now? Is there a certain sport that involves turn ons for you, or…?"
A smirk grew slowly over her face as she peered back up at him, and she squirmed deliciously. "Hm. Good question. Soccer doesn't have any squeaky shoes."
"Noted. This is true. But…"
"I know, I know. You asked a very pointed question. I'm thinking." He mimed zipping his lips, making her give him a side-eye. "Their jerseys are all tight, you know? So when they go to throw the ball in and the cameras right behind them, you can see all those back and shoulder muscles. It's like 4D muscles. Mm. Turn on."
Chuck busted up, leaning forward. "Jesus Christ. Well." He finished laughing, liking the pleased look on her face. "Can't say you're a woman who doesn't know what she likes."
"Nope. You can't say that. I also like when there's a set piece and they're all, like, man-handling each other. And hugging. Total turn on."
He wondered if he should say it for only a split second, but this comfort level and the loopiness made him blab it anyway. "Kinda verging on homoerotic, there, private eye." He braced himself.
Sarah gave him a scandalized look, but he saw the sparkle of amusement and there was a hint of pleasure that he'd said it there too, and he let himself feel a hint of relief. She gave him a gentle little kick to his thigh with her foot, more of a nudge than anything. "Look at you," she drawled. "Getting spicy."
Chuck snorted. "Spicy? Nope. Just pointing out the obvious."
"Mhm, still spicy. I like it."
He turned and smiled at her, looking into her blue eyes. "S'that so?" She just smiled back, giving him a one shoulder shrug. He wanted to crawl over her and kiss her, and hold her, and not let go until the sun came up. But he didn't. He stayed where he was, just smiling. He broke her gaze finally and cleared his throat.
This wasn't the backseat of a car. They were on her couch. She'd pulled back wisely in the car. But here? There was something a lot more…doable about this situation.
For some reason, that made him even less inclined to make his move. He didn't know why and it was making him feel crazy. Did he want to have sex with a beautiful woman or not? What the hell is wrong with you? one of the many voices in his head was screaming.
But then he had the more steady voice too, the one that tended to agree with Ellie on most occasions, reminding him that there was a two year old boy, (hopefully) sleeping in a room down the hall. And that added gravity to every step they took forward in this fledgling romance of theirs.
He had to assume that was part of the reason why it felt like she held back in certain moments.
This time, he'd be the one holding back.
"So you're a soccer fan?"
"If I had to watch a sport, that'd be the one I'd pick."
"It's too slow for me. And I don't really get all the rules. I don't see the…strategy. You know?" He shrugged. "I don't dislike it. I'm willing to learn more about it."
"I used to play."
He sat up more and whipped around to look at her. "Really? You played soccer?" He was suddenly way more interested in the sport. Way, way more interested. She nodded quietly. "When? Were you on a club team?"
"No, no. That requires, like… an investment. From me and my parents, my parents especially. I knew from the beginning I had no future in it so I played for fun. It was something to…distract me. Especially when I was a teenager." She turned her head and stared at the television screen, the light from it playing off of her face. It was kind of mesmerizing.
"Were you good?" He scoffed immediately and thunked himself on the forehead with the heel of his palm. "Stupid question. You're Sarah Walker, of course you were good. I bet you scored all of the team's goals, huh?"
She giggled. "I was above average I guess 'til I quit playing. And I scored some of the goals, but I wasn't a forward."
"No?"
"No. I never wanted that kind of attention. Strikers tend to be attention-seekers."
"Pause." He shook his head and held up a finger. "Forwards are also called strikers? Why does anyone use the word forward when you can say striker instead? Come on."
She laughed. "It's more complicated than that. They're kind of different. I'll explain another time maybe. But I went for a more low key position."
"Hold on. Okay, I'm going to guess… knowing absolutely nothing about the sport except that you put the ball into the net and get a point." She giggled. "You're tall, but I don't think you were a goalie, 'cause you just said you scored some of the goals and goalies are stuck back at their own goal so they don't score much, I'm assuming."
Sarah raised her eyebrows. "I like this. You're being very analytical."
He blushed, trying to play it off by clearing his throat and giving her a faux modest look. "You were one of the people in the middle, weren't you? The ones who, like, control things. The bridge between the back people and the strikers," he said, emphasizing his new favorite soccer word.
She giggled. "You're good." He pumped his fists over his head in celebration and she laughed. "Yeah, I played a number six pretty well. Sometimes they moved me up to play an eight or a ten if they needed me to push up more."
"Are those…jersey numbers? You wore a six on your jersey?" He shook his head, confused.
"No, no. That's another soccer thing I'll explain to you someday. I'd need, like, a chart of a pitch. But the positions all have numbers. I played central midfielder. The lynchpin. Like you said, I controlled things."
And that made sense. She struck him as the type of person who needed to have control. A lynchpin sounded very Sarah Walker. He gave her a slow, crooked smile. "Not gonna lie, that's kinda hot."
Raising her eyebrows again, the private investigator pursed her lips. "Mind you, I was only, like, fifteen or sixteen at the time? Eighteen at the oldest. I quit after high school sooooooo…"
Chuck winced. "Oh shit. Welp. Uh… Okay, um." She cracked up. "That's mean. You know full well I was imagining you at this age that you are now, twenty-something year old Sarah Walker, playing the position with all the control, okay? And…I like a woman who's in…control. Jesus Christ." She laughed harder as he hung his head in agony. "That wasn't supposed to sound so terrible. God." He covered his face with his hands and turned to peek at her through his fingers. "Can I get a little leeway and we blame it on the whole loopy nature of this current situation at this late hour?"
She grinned at him, leaning over to grab his hand from his face and pull it down with her. She flopped back against the arm of the couch and cradled his hand in hers, against her stomach. He felt the heat of her skin against his knuckles, through her shirt even. And it made him feel warm all over. "I'll give you loopy leeway, yes. Just this once." She winked. "Only because you like a woman who's in control."
He groaned as she laughed at him. "I deserve that."
But then he sprang at her, and she squeaked, laughing at him as he grappled for the remote. She was a lot stronger than she had any right to be, and now he knew why her thighs in particular were really good at holding him off as she stretched her arm out off of the couch to keep him from reaching the remote, her knee braced on his sternum.
They wrestled for a bit and he finally got the remote. Laughing, he held her against his side as they sat up against the back of the couch, and he scrolled through the channels, even as she tried to smack the remote out of his hand, swatting half-heartedly across his vision.
She finally settled down after a bit, probably realizing her quest was futile, and also not caring that much about it. And they just sat together, bodies pressed close, time sneaking into the early morning hours, their eyelids heavy. Chuck didn't make a peep when Sarah became something of a dead weight against his side, her face tucked under his jaw.
He just kept scrolling through the channels, a smile on his face, the warmth of her form pressed against his rivaled only by the warmth in his chest.
A/N: Why yes, I did make Sarah a soccer player. No reason. No allusion whatsoever to multiple AU ideas I've had bursting through my brain for over a decade now. Nope nope nope nope nope. Nooooooo reason at all.
-SC
