Chuck Versus the Coincidence
By Steampunk . Chuckster
A/N: Twelve hours after the beautiful, wonderful, glorious, heart-healing table read Zoom reunion with the cast of Chuck, here I am with a new short fic! Thanks to David Carner for dealing with my manic mood the other night and giving me the prompt for this. I don't know how many chapters it will be. I'm just telling you outright. I have no idea. Just know this is not the ONLY chapter. Thanks for reading!
Disclaimer: I don't own Chuck and I'm not making any money from writing this fic.
"No."
"But—"
"Nope."
"But, dude—"
"Not happening."
"It's just that—"
"Do I have to say it again? Okay, I will. No."
"Chuuuuuuck!"
Chuck Bartowski watched as his best friend slumped in his gaming chair and spun the chair around, whining his name over and over.
"I am not going out tonight, Morgan. I'm not."
Morgan put his foot down to stop the chair and then rolled it across Chuck's room until he had to stick his hands out to keep from crashing into his bed. "Okay, wait. Listen. Hear me out, okay? You just got this fancy new apartment. You have a bed. Your TV, your game systems, and your gaming chair. All the necessities…"
"Right, but I'm not unpacked. I need to unpack. I shouldn't be going anywhere tonight, buddy."
"But listen to me, Chuck. You have a brand new bachelor's pad and a brand new job. The only thing you need is a brand new girl. And I'm giving you that opportunity!" He smacked his hands down onto Chuck's knees and leaned in close. "And she's a gift to mankind, dude. Favorite game series is Grand Theft Auto."
"Are you setting me up with a psychopath?"
"Dude, come on. Her love of the game is purely mission-based, okay? Stop being such a snob."
Chuck laughed. "I'm not being a snob, Morgan. I'm starting a brand new job tomorrow and it's a big deal. I just want to stay home, listen to my records—whichever ones I can access in the piles of boxes I have yet to unpack. Which is why I need to stay home tonight and unpack. And then tomorrow, bright and early, I'll be heading to my first day at my new job. I can't fuck this up, Morgs."
"I know, I know. Ellie would kill you after she helped you find this job."
"No." Chuck shook his head and sighed. "It's not about Ellie. It's about me. I need to do this for myself. This is a great job, and my employer seems epic. I need to do well here. So I can continue to afford this…bachelor pad. I can't believe you got me to say that. Like we're in the nineteen-sixties." He made a grossed out face. "Not to mention my bedroom door gets jammed when it closes all the way. Did you know that? They still haven't sent someone to fix it. I almost died in here the other day 'cause the chair I was using to prop it open slipped, it slammed, got all stuck, and I almost got a hernia trying to open it again."
"But you opened it, which is the important thing," Morgan said, thumping his back. Always the guy with the silver lining…
"Yes, Morgan. That is the important thing."
"I was wondering why you have your door handle tied to the desk leg."
"Now ya know. So anyway, thanks for stopping by, bud. Maybe another night, I can go to this…spud dating."
"It's speed dating, and you know that," Morgan groused.
"Oh, yeah."
"Thelma's gonna be there and you two will hit it off. It's been four years, Chuck. You need to get past that sack of shit—"
"Morgan!"
"She's a sack of shit, Chuck. Yeah, yeah, it was over four years ago. But when you're that much of a sack of shit, four years isn't long enough for you to change and become less of a sack of shit." Chuck rolled his eyes. "Please meet me there tonight. I told her you're going. She'll be waiting for you. You don't even have to stay late!"
"Morgannnnn…"
"You're gonna be up playing Destiny 2 until one or two in the morning anyway, man, don't lie. At least this way, you go out with your best bud, meet a great girl, you come home by your curfew. You go to work tomorrow and knock it outta the park." Morgan smacked his knees again. "Do it."
"Stop…doing that on my legs," Chuck snapped, pushing Morgan's hands away. "What if I'm just not ready? I don't feel like going to speed dating and meeting some girl named Thelma who likes a video game series about committing crime and murdering people."
"You love Grand Theft Auto."
"Yes, I do, but it's not my favorite!"
Morgan groaned. "Please do it for me. She has a hot friend who is going to be there, too, named—"
"Lemme guess: Louise."
"Stop it. I'm getting annoyed. I need you to do this. I need to get in good with—"
"Louise?"
"Her name is Angie and she's beautiful, man!"
Chuck sniffed in amusement and took a deep breath. "Are you going to leave me alone about dating if I do this one thing for you?"
Excitement lit up the bearded guy's face. "Yes. And I won't have to bug you anymore, because you'll meet Thelma and she'll be your soul mate. Just like Angie is mine."
"You're putting a whole lot of pressure on this girl Thelma, buddy. I hope you know that. I bet wherever she is, she just felt, like, a lot of weight on her shoulders." He stood up from where he was sitting on his bed, turned off the video game he'd played throughout the entire conversation, and went to his closet. "The things I do for you."
"You're going to thank me, Chuck. When you meet her, you're going to thank me. Wear the black skinny tie. She's a skinny tie girl."
Chuck rolled his eyes and shook his head, pulling out a clean shirt and his one, lone black skinny tie.
}o{
She pinched the bridge of her nose to get rid of the stress headache she was already planning on having.
And Sarah Walker didn't do stress.
For someone who'd gone through law school and had gotten her law degree, along with a good position in the Beckman Graham firm, slowly working her way up from coffee runs and grunt work, stress should have been a staple of her existence. But it just…wasn't. It never had been.
And yet, today was really trying her patience.
It was pushing her to her limit.
Really, the last week or two had been pushing her to her limit.
"Sir, I know you've got a long line of cars to fix. I understand that. I do. And it isn't your fault that my car's battery is being a complete and utter asshole. But I need this car right now. I need my car. I can't get home without it. I have work tomorrow."
"Ma'am, I'm sorry," the mechanic said, grabbing the pen from his pocket and passing it and paperwork on a clipboard over to her. "We still haven't even run diagnostics on it and we won't be able to until tomorrow. And then when we figure out what the problem is, we can fix it."
Sarah took the clipboard and the pen, sighing. "I understand. What shitty timing for car trouble, though."
"I'm sorry. We'll call ya tomorrow when we figure out what's wrong with it. Just fill all of that out for us. We've got a chair over here for you to sit in if you'd like to."
She'd already been sitting for two damn hours. "I'll just…" She sighed heavily. "Yeah, I'll sit."
What she really wanted to do was get a damn drink at a bar, just to be surrounded by the noise, get some alcohol in her system, and then go home and go to sleep. She knew if she went home now, she'd only think too hard about how rough of a day she'd had, how poorly her case was going, how Graham had chewed her out for not having the best updates for him on one of her cases in particular.
She wanted to forget all of that for a bit, and then she could go home, shower, and sleep early. Tomorrow would be another day. And maybe Diane would be back from her vacation by then so that she'd at least have someone in her corner.
Finishing up the paperwork, she handed it back to the mechanic and sighed, peering over his shoulder at her poor car sitting there, with its newly cleaned shiny outside and its broken inside.
She could relate.
"Hey, can I call you a cab?" the mechanic asked.
"Uh, no. No, thanks. I appreciate it."
Smiling at him, she walked out of the shop and looked out at the bustling traffic of Los Angeles. People walking down the sidewalks, cars zooming around and honking. She'd get a cab a lot easier if it had been two weeks ago, before the cabbies decided to strike. She couldn't really blame them for it. Except for right now.
Did it count as crossing the picket line if she tried to snag a ride share to her favorite bar? She didn't quite know how that worked.
But then as she took her phone out, she realized she had absolutely no Internet bars in this area. "What the hell?" she breathed. "I just want my God damn drink at my God damn bar."
"I can buy ya a drink, sweet cheeks…"
She barked, "Go fuck yourself!" at the skeevy man passing behind her and he jumped, eyes wide. He scurried away like a gutter rat but she was already back on her phone, trying to get herself service somehow. She wondered how much worse this night was going to get before it got better.
Maybe she should just take herself home and not push her luck.
And when she finally got enough of a signal to pull up the ride share app, the closest car to her was way too far away. How was that even possible at this time of the night in LA proper? She groaned and turned on her heel, looking up and down the street.
Resolved to do what she had to do, she slumped over to the bus stop and paused at the schedule on the side of it, encased in plastic that had been tagged with a cartoonish penis in Sharpie.
Under the penis, she saw her destination, and she saw she'd need to take two whole buses and it would take over a half hour.
Or longer, she expected.
Which, if she really thought about it, wasn't much longer than trying to get home driving herself in rush hour.
Fuck it.
Things couldn't get any worse.
So she ambled around to the benches and brushed one off, sitting on it and waiting. Her bus would arrive in five minutes. And then she'd be on her way home, only to start planning how in the hell she'd get to work in the morning.
}o{
"Well, who is that?!"
"Who's who? What are you talking about, baby?"
"I saw your phone! Don't play cute!"
"Man, you're crazy…"
"I'm crazy?! I'm crazy?"
Sarah winced and turned to look out of her window, and when the argument got louder, she pulled her phone out of her purse instead, pretending to text someone. Maybe she would just text someone. Maybe Carina might have some advice on how to get back on Graham's good side.
The couple's argument was getting so raucous that she couldn't concentrate enough to get out a greeting as she pulled up the old conversation she'd had with her coworker, .
And they were right across the aisle from Sarah. She glanced subtly over her shoulder towards the back of the bus and saw several empty seats.
She turned back as the yelling continued, just in time to see the woman try to make a grab for the man's phone. "Give it to me, you asshole!"
"It's none of your business who I text!"
"None of my business? I work so I can pay for you to be on my family plan, you fuckhead!"
"Hey, now, back there…" the bus driver warned. But he seemed wholly indifferent to the skirmish besides his half-hearted admonishment. Sarah could see the writing on the wall. The guy was just going to keep to his route and hope these two got off of his bus eventually.
She wondered what else he saw on a daily basis that this wasn't even a blip on his Crazy Radar.
She also wondered how much bus drivers got paid for this job. She hoped they got paid a lot.
Sarah glanced over her shoulder again. She decided to wait for the next stop, and then she'd move to the back. Sure, she'd still be able to hear their loud argument, but at least back there it would be a lot less awkward, and she'd get to see the show. If she turned and stared at them now, it probably would seem a little rude.
She was literally two feet away from them.
Finally, she heard a ding and a robotic voice announce, "Stop requested", and she took a deep breath, gathering up her purse, watching and waiting as the bus slid up to the curb at the bus stop.
The couple wasn't getting off, so she stood up and hurriedly moved into the aisle with a quiet, awkward, "Excuse me", before stepping carefully down the aisle and climbing up the step into the back part of the bus.
The bus took off just as she found a spot to sit and the driver must have slammed his foot on the gas because she was shoved down into her seat with a quiet squeak. She sent the bus driver a significant glower. Maybe they shouldn't get paid that much…
Sarah watched as the couple got in one another's face, still yelling. They looked like they were maybe in their mid to late thirties, and married maybe? Or maybe not. Who really knew? The woman was still trying to grab his phone, but she was small, as fiery as she was, and he had much longer arms.
"How would you feel if I sent Bobby a text? Huh? Oh hey Bobby remember me? Maybe I'll send him some naughty emojis! How would you like that?"
Sarah heard a quiet choking sound, like a barely muffled snort, off to the side. She glanced in the direction of the sound and saw a man sitting across the aisle, one row behind her, covering his mouth with one hand, looking out of his window, and sinking low in his seat. As low as he could. He looked pretty tall, his knees already poking up with him sitting normally.
He must've felt her gaze on him because he spared a quick glance at her, and then he sobered up and cleared his throat, twisting his lips to the side a bit and scratching behind his ear.
He looked away just as quick.
Sarah turned forward again and smirked. At least she wasn't the only one who was mostly amused by this fight.
It was annoying, too. She'd prefer the bus ride to be less intense and she could feel the tension of the day pushing her closer to some sort of breaking point.
But seeing that someone else in the bus was paying attention and found it at least passably humorous was helping a little.
"I told you before, you're crazy! They're just emojis!"
"You're sleeping with her, aren't you? You doing it while I'm at work?" She shoved at his head. "Under my roof?"
"I'm not screwin' nobody, Tammy!"
"I got news for ya, pal! That's a double negative and it technically means you're screwin' somebody!"
There went the little choked snort off to Sarah's left again, only this time, there was a barely suppressed giggle that went with it.
And damn it, Sarah broke. It just wasn't in the way she was expecting to. There was no snap, no anger, no fury. No frustrated tears. No anguish.
Instead, she felt the bubble of laughter rise up from her chest. She had to clamp both hands over her mouth and she sank down in her seat, laughing silently, doing her best to keep them from seeing or hearing her as she absolutely lost her shit.
It wasn't even that funny.
And yet. She couldn't stop. She just couldn't stop.
"What are you gonna do, call my mom? Jesus Christ, Tammy!"
"Don't be such a baby, Brett! Give me the phone and let me see the texts if they're so innocent!"
"Fuck you, Tammy!"
Oh God, she could not stop the laughter. It was too much. She hunched over and tried to shove practically her whole arm in her mouth to stop it, but the tears were coming and the laughter just would not quit.
She heard that choking sound again, followed by the giggle, and she slowly peeked around the seat to see that the man behind her was also hunched over, hiding behind the seat in front of him, tears running down his red face, his fist shoved in his mouth.
That was it.
The last straw.
The laugh exploded out of her mouth, even with her arm pressed against it. And his followed as they met eyes.
And she couldn't hold any of it back anymore, both of them curled towards one another, draped over the seats, just laughing.
It wasn't until it was too late that she realized the arguing at the front of the bus had stopped.
Sarah smothered her laughter finally as she realized Brett Who'd Gotten Naughty Emojis From Another Woman was turned around in his seat watching them with an unamused look on his face.
She cleared her throat and wiped a tear from her eye with her sleeve quickly.
The man behind her coughed a little, sniffled, and sounded like he finally pulled himself together.
"You think somethin's funny?" Brett called towards the back of the bus. "This funny to you?"
"Uh, no," the guy behind her said. Sarah glanced over her shoulder at him with wide eyes. "Nothing's funny. I'm… Have you ever seen the video with the cat that pops out from behind the corner and tackles the baby? I can—No? You don't wanna see it?" He lifted his phone and wiggled it before lowering it again and clearing his throat. "Pretty hilarious. You're missin' out, Brett."
Sarah couldn't help it. She began to laugh again. But then she spun around when she heard Tammy pipe up.
"You think a cheating shithead husband is hilarious, huh, sister?"
"No," Sarah choked out. "No, I don't. It's…the cat…tackling the baby."
"See?" the guy behind her tried, holding up his phone again.
They got dirty looks only, thankfully, before Tammy tried to snatch the phone from her husband, and the row started up again, only this time a lot more fiery.
Sarah quietly turned to look at the man and he looked back, eyes wide, lips pressed together. He mouthed, "Sorry" at her and she snorted, shaking her head. He was a bad influence but she appreciated him just the same. She'd been just as much to blame as he'd been.
"You want to put another notch on OUR BEDPOST?!"
"The hell are you talkin' about? This is ridiculous. Let's just go home."
"No! You aren't coming into my home until you show me the God damn texts!"
"None of your business!"
"I PAY FOR YOUR PHONE AND THAT'S MY RING ON YOUR DAMN FINGER SO IT IS MY BUSINESS!"
And this time when she went for his phone, he leapt up from his seat and ran back a few feet in the middle of the aisle. She chased him. She full on chased him into the aisle, and then she jumped onto his back. "GIVE IT TO ME!"
"NO! THE HELL YOU DOIN'? GET OFF ME!"
They staggered even further down the aisle, much closer to where Sarah sat now, near the step that rose up into the back of the bus.
"There!" Brett pushed her off and held up his phone. "I deleted it. The whole conversation. Now you're never gonna know shit, Tammy."
A look of manic fury overcame her squirrelly features and she lunged at him. For a second, Sarah through she was going to witness a murder. And the prosecutor in her had her rising to her feet as Tammy's fist slammed into her husband's shoulder.
Just as she went for Brett's hair and his hand came up to smack her face, before Sarah could race forward to stop the ruckus, the man behind her burst past and leapt down the step to shove himself between them with a, "Whoa, whoa! Whoa! Okay, whoa!"
The bus skidded to a stop and the bus driver came back from behind the wheel, marching down the aisle with a fed up look on his face.
And that was when the guy she'd shared a laugh with at this couple's expense really pushed himself between Brett and Tammy, which meant Tammy's hand that was absolutely meant for Brett's face, instead got the tall curly-haired guy who'd just been trying to prevent bloodshed squarely in the cheek.
He crashed down against a seat first and then hit the floor, like a redwood chopped down at the stump. Timber.
And the bus went silent.
}o{
"All right, get the hell off my bus. NOW!"
Feet stepped on his legs, shoes actually. And one pair of heels. But he was too focused on how much his cheek stung, and he was definitely gonna have a bruise where his shoulder crashed into the step.
Chuck looked up to see the bus driver manhandling the couple off of the bus.
"HEY! Don't touch my wife, buster!"
"Get off or I call the police!" The bus driver bellowed, shoving them out of the open door at the middle of the bus. He pulled a lever to shut the doors, effectively locking them out. And then he turned to look down past his bushy mustache at Chuck.
Before he could help him up, another pair of hands landed on his shoulders and helped him sit up.
"You okay?" she asked.
Who was she?
Chuck furrowed his brow in confusion and looked behind him to see the undeniably gorgeous woman who'd been laughing at the melodramatic scene a few moments earlier kneeling behind him, her eyes wide and…very blue. Impossibly blue. "Oh, hi," he said lamely.
"Hi." She gave him an amused look. "Can you get up? She knocked you silly."
"Yeah, you really went down like a sack of potatoes, fella," the bus driver said. "You want me to call the cops? Press charges?"
Chuck let them help him up. "Oh. No, I just fell over because of the…" He cleared his throat and looked down. "The step. The step was right there. She hit me and the step was there, hit my foot on it, you know? Just went bloop," he mimicked a rolling gesture with his hands. "Because of the step."
The bus driver seemed to decide to just go with that, clearing his throat. "So no cops?"
"No, no. I think they'll, uh… Ahem. The weather is chilly out there. It'll… Cooler heads will prevail. Those two kids'll be fine." Chuck cleared his throat and brushed himself off, pressing a cool hand against his stinging cheek. Ah, that felt good.
With a shrug, the bus driver went back to his wheel, seemingly glad to wash his hands of the whole thing.
"Here, come sit back down," the woman said then, curling her fingers around his bicep and gingerly pulling him towards the back of the bus again.
It was typical the way literally everyone on the bus had gone right back to not caring just as quickly, as though nothing had happened in the first place. How had nobody tried to put a stop to that but him? Jesus Christ…
He let the woman sit him down and she plopped into the seat across the aisle from him, turned so that her legs stuck out into the aisle. He decided to stop noticing them. And he looked at the ceiling of the bus instead.
"You're gonna have that woman's hand print on your face for a little bit there, I'm sorry to say," she muttered. And he looked at her again just in time to see her wince.
"She just…caught me by surprise. I think her hand is, uh, made out of steel, too. So. I mean, I don't go down that easy. Like, ever. So…"
He felt so lame.
She bit her lip, her blue eyes sparkling with mirth. "I'm sorry you got hit. They were insane."
"Ridiculous. To fight like that even in private is… But then to do it in public? On a bus? Rude. Just insanely rude." He shook his head.
"Yeah, that was something else." She whistled, leaning her elbow on the back of her seat and propping her head up with her palm. She looked towards the front of the bus then and he got a good look at her profile. She had quite possibly the most perfect profile he'd ever seen in his life. How…? "Is this what LA's bus system is always like or was this a lovely exception simply because I was on this bus and that's just what today has been and will continue to be for me?" she asked quietly, a wry look on her face when she turned back to him.
He was trying to figure out the last part of what she'd just said, the anecdotal nature of it, even as he shook his head. "It's not that bad usually. Just like any city."
"Hm." She nodded. "Good to know."
He couldn't help but chuckle again then. And he shook his head. "You're a bad influence, you know. I was holding it in until I saw you up there covering your face with your shoulders shaking."
"Me?" She giggled, her jaw falling open. "What about you? Your little snorts and giggles back here."
"I couldn't help it!" he exclaimed, chuckling. "I don't know why. It just hit me perfectly in the funny bone in that particular moment. I couldn't help it. Really, I couldn't."
"Well. Neither could I. Apparently. Nice save with the cat video."
"No, it wasn't. They didn't believe me for a second."
They both laughed at that and she reached up to tuck her hair behind her ear. Then she let out a tired huff and shook her head. "This was a pretty nuts end to my day."
"Good way to finish it off, huh?"
She winced at him then. "You got it a lot worse. Kudos for jumping in to stop a murder, by the way. That was brave of you."
Chuck found he liked that amused sparkle of hers. It was like she was teasing him, but he was in on the joke. He grinned back at her and scoffed. "Right. Brave. Or stupid. I saw the look on her face and I just… Phew, that man was about to die. I was sure of it."
"Me, too. Like I said…brave."
"Well…" He cleared his throat and pushed a hand through his dark curls. "Thank you." He held his cool hand against his cheek again. "Not sure how worth it it was, though."
She laughed. "Well, this was the only good laugh I've had in a while, so it was worth it for me." She pulled back then as he made a face, wincing again. "It wasn't funny that you got hit. Obviously. Not that part. I meant, er, before."
"Right, right. Of course," he teased, wrinkling his nose and nodding. "Thanks for that."
She laughed again, looking embarrassed. "Sorry."
"Nah, it's okay. I'm made of tough stuff. Takes more than a little teasing to knock me down."
"Like a mad as hell woman smacking you across the face."
He gaped at her, feeling laughter bubble up in his chest. "I told you, it was the step, okay?"
"No, I know, it was totally the step. I saw it with my own two eyes."
He faux glared at her and chuckled, shaking his head. And then he decided, if you can't beat 'em, join 'em. He also liked the idea of making her laugh again. So he sucked up his pride and said, "I'd almost rather he'd been the one to hit me instead of her." She burst into laughter, rocking forward. "No, seriously. When I tell you her hand was made out of steel…"
She absolutely beamed at him as she said, "That was the mixture of rage and hatred that hit you."
"Oh?" Chuck giggled at that. "Is that what happens then? You find out your significant other's been exchanging 'naughty emojis' with someone else, the rage and hatred turns your hand into Mjölnir?"
She made a confused face. "Into what now?"
"Mjölnir." She shrugged. "Thor's hammer."
"Oh. Is that one of those Norse god guys?"
He decided not to launch into a two hour explanation of Thor's origins. And instead he chirped, "Yep! You got it!"
"I didn't know people named their hammers."
Chuck swallowed crooked and choked.
"Really?" she drawled, laughing in spite of herself.
"Sorry." He cleared his throat and gave one last cough. "I didn't—I mean, I swallowed wrong." He paused. "I'm changing the subject."
The beautiful woman laughed a bit harder at that, just peering at him with that damn sparkle in those blue eyes again. "Do you get yourself into trouble a lot, then?"
"Pfft. You're the one who got us into trouble."
"We've already been through this. You did a little snort and giggle and it set me off. It was your fault."
Chuck laughed again, shaking his head. "Did you see his sorry freakin' attempt at Robert De Niro? He tried the 'you talkin' to me?' thing. He tried so hard."
"You think somethin's funny? This funny to you?" she mimicked, squinting her eyes, and he applauded her, which got him a teasing bow, as best she could while sitting facing the wrong way on a bus seat.
"Poor guy," he chuckled.
"Poor guy? What about her? I'm one hundred percent certain she's being cheated on. While he's living in her house, and she's paying for his phone."
"Good point. Seems like a stand-up guy." He grinned and then assented her point with a head nod. "But you're right. He's totally cheating."
She let out a whistle again. "And to think if my car battery hadn't died, I'd be home right now with a drink, kicking my feet up and watching my TV."
"Aw, man. That sounds like the life," he said, shaking his head. Instead he was going to get on yet another bus after this one, after which he'd most likely be late for the actual start of the speed dating thing Morgan was making him go to. He didn't understand. Why go to a speed dating function to meet one person, instead of just having a blind date? A double date? Was this a new thing in the dating world now? People actually went to speed dating instead of…a dating app or something?
He really wasn't looking forward to it. Maybe he could just stay on this bus and say he got lost. But he didn't want to disappoint Morgan.
"It's a life, anyway," she said, shaking her head.
And then it occurred to him what she'd said before. "Wait. Your car battery died?" She nodded and rolled her eyes. "Oooh, that's why you asked if LA's buses are all like this. This your first time taking the bus?" She gave him a searching look and he held his hands up. "No judgment. I swear."
"First time in LA, yeah. Not my first time ever. I've been on plenty of buses in my time." She gave him a wry look.
"Right. Of course. It's definitely a way to travel."
"Instead of the way?" she asked, seemingly amused.
"Exactly. You pick up on things really well, you know that?" She bit her lip and he went on, seeing he'd maybe embarrassed her a little. "I'm getting a car. Soon. I just got a really great job and I plan on keeping it. Moved to a new place and now I'll be getting a car."
"Very nice," she said, smiling. "No more bus arguments…"
"Or getting slapped by Mjölnir hands."
She cracked up. "Sounds good!"
"Oh man, it really does. I can deal with parking. Just…the idea of not having to hop buses or borrow my sister's car… Man, it sounds good." He sighed wistfully. And then he was hit by a rather dull ache of self-awareness, self-consciousness more like. "I would've had a car sooner, you know, but it just…never worked out. Too expensive on top of rent and I knew I was moving to a new place so it was just easier to use the public transportation options."
She held up a hand, a small, understanding smile on her face. "Don't have to justify it to me. Trust me. I know what it is to have to save up for things. Please. Really. Lots of people over in the East take public transportation and don't own cars, either."
"That's because their public transportation is actually functional."
She giggled. "Not always. Maybe more than here, though. I'll grant you that." She studied him for a bit and then added, "And congratulations on your new job. That's exciting."
"Thank you!" He grinned, clasping his hands together. "Was hoping to start my new job tomorrow without a massive handprint on my face but beggars can't be choosers, ya know…"
Laughing, she opened her mouth to speak, but then she caught sight of something over his shoulder. "Oh crap. My stop is coming up." She swung around and reached up to pull the cord.
"Stop requested" the robotic voice chanted.
"Wait, where are we—Oh. Wait, this is my stop, too." He shook his head at himself and straightened his blazer a bit, then stood up as soon as the bus pulled up to the curb. She was watching him again and he realized how it must look, him saying that this was also his stop after she'd said it. "It really is," he rushed out, thrusting a hand out reassuringly. "I swear. I have another bus that'll be coming through here in, like, five minutes." He checked his watch. "Or maybe ten."
She smiled at him as he gestured for her to go first and then he followed behind her. "I believe you," she said over her shoulder as she climbed down the steps and hopped out onto the sidewalk. He hopped down after her and they slowly made their way to the bus stop.
Suddenly she halted, almost as if she'd run into an invisible wall or something. "Hey…"
He stopped as well and turned to face her, raising his eyebrow.
"I've had this…extremely shitty long day, if I'm being perfectly honest with you. And I thought going home and having a strong drink sounded like the way to go after all that. But…" She glanced down the street. "There's a bar I know of just around the corner. D'you wanna get a drink?" She gave out a miserable sigh. "I need a drink."
Chuck could only gape at her, blinking once. Was she serious?
"Oh. Crap. I'm…" She shook her head, seemingly embarrassed. "I'm sure you have somewhere to be."
He did. He promised Morgan. And there would be someone named… Crap, what had her name even been? Something with a T. Thelma. As in 'and Louise', that was right. She'd be there looking to meet him thanks to Morgan's big mouth. Morgan wanted to get himself in good with her friend.
"I…" He stopped himself then. Going to a speed dating thing where he'd be talking to a bunch of women for two minutes each or whatever the rule was… or getting a drink with easily the most beautiful woman he'd ever seen, with an incredible sense of humor and a fascinating sparkle in her blue eyes?
What in the hell was he thinking?
"I don't." She frowned in question. "I-I mean, yes please. I would love a drink."
A/N: More to come! Thanks for reading. Hit that review button, please. I really appreciate hearing from you folks.
-SC