It's a Wonderful Cover Life
A/N: Apparently I have the patience of a flea. This is your Dec 1st chapter, but like a kid on Christmas morning I can't sit on this for a week, so consider it a Sunday surprise. Surprise!
Big, big thank you's to Team Cover Life for their contributions: Quistie64, my Maggie-consultant, and Nervert, for fitting me into his busy schedule. You guys rock.
As I've mentioned before, this chapter is a milestone. 100 chapters, baby! I hope you enjoy reading that one as much as I enjoyed writing it.
I don't own Chuck.
97. Tattoo Trouble
Chuck stretched his arms over his head and yawned widely before taking a deep breath through his nose. His eyes blinked open as he clenched his hands into fists only to snap his right palm open when he felt the sensitive skin stretch painfully across his knuckles. He couldn't believe he'd slept so well after the nasty surprise from the day before, but he figured that had everything to do with the blonde that had curled into his side when they'd finally made it to bed. Apparently he'd been pretty dead to the world, given that she'd gotten up without waking him. He ran a hand over the rumpled sheets which were already cold. Swinging his legs over the edge of the mattress he sat up and rubbed his hands across his face. Sarah was probably working out, he thought, though if she'd been up at four in the morning again, perhaps he ought to worry about her sanity. The alarm clock on the nightstand told him he didn't have much time for that. He was already fifteen minutes late and Ellie would kill him if he made her late for rounds. He hurried to the dressing room to grab his uniform, vaguely registering that his legs were starting to feel a lot better, then made his way to the bathroom with long strides. He rushed through his morning hygiene routine, thanking the hair gods that his curls obeyed on the first try to tame them. Twenty minutes later he was hopping down the hallway, his shirttails still hanging over his pants as he tried to put on his second shoe without doing a face plant into the carpet. He managed to slip his foot in right before he reached Maggie's door, but as he was about to push it open all the way he heard voices from inside and paused.
"…and mister Tyler says the ink doesn't come off ever," he heard Maggie say. "Can I draw with that ink on my arms too, Kitty?"
"Not until you're forty five," Sarah replied.
Curious, Chuck peered through the crack of the door. Maggie, fully dressed in jeans and a purple Minnie Mouse hoodie, was sitting at the desk that doubled as a vanity, as Sarah was tying her hair in two ponytails. It seemed they were not going to be late after all.
"That's a little harsh," Chuck said as he entered the room. "We can discuss it when you're forty." He never thought he'd have the 'you can't get a tattoo' conversation with her until she'd reached high school, but then again he'd never factored in Sarah's personal assistant. Maggie had told him all about mister Tyler when he'd put her to bed, but she'd failed to mention the magic ink. He leaned over for his good morning kiss on the cheek and a one arm hug before running his fingers through her fringe, straightening out the short wisps.
"When's that?" Maggie asked.
"Many, many baths from now," Chuck said.
Sarah shot him a curious look as he did the math in his head, mumbling "carry the one" and writing with his finger on an imaginary chalkboard. "Twelve thousand," he said, "give or take a hundred and two."
"Huh?" Maggie said, her face scrunched in confusion.
"It's a lot of baths," Sarah replied. She ran the brush through Maggie's hair one last time to make sure she'd gotten all the tangles, sending Chuck a sideways glance. "And if that's accurate, I will be suitably impressed."
"Please," he said without a hint of modesty, secretly thrilled that he could awe her with his hidden proficiency with numbers, "it's me. Of course it's accurate."
"Wow, you're talents are definitely wasted at the Buy More."
"Not for much longer."
"You handed in your notice?"
Chuck nodded as he slipped his hand over Maggie's eyes before giving Sarah a quick peck on the cheek. He pulled away, but then quickly dove in for another one when she turned her head, on the lips this time.
"I know you're kissing," Maggie said. "I'm not dumb."
He felt Sarah's mouth curl under his, leaving him no choice but to lift his head.
"She takes after her dad," he said.
"Told you." Sarah smiled at him and lifted the little off the chair. Grabbing Mr. Oink from the bed behind her she handed the little girl her stuffed pig. "Why don't you go downstairs to see what Lou made for breakfast?"
"Okay." Halfway to the door she stopped and spun around. "Thank you for helping me get dressed, Kitty."
Sarah smiled back at her. "You're welcome, sweetie."
"Be careful on the stairs," Chuck called after her. Maggie sent him a thumbs up over her shoulder, something he assumed her soon to be uncle Awesome had taught her. Then he remembered his untied shoe and hunched down to fix it as Sarah tidied up the room.
"The alarm didn't ring," he said.
"I reset it. I thought I'd let you sleep in a bit while I got Maggie ready." When he straightened he found Sarah giving him a once over, taking in his not quite ready for work appearance. "I suppose I should've left you a note."
Chuck cocked his head to the side, his haste to be on time forgotten. "You're enjoying this parenting gig, aren't you?"
Sarah raised and dropped a shoulder, though the hint of a blush on her cheeks contradicted the aloof gesture. She stepped up close to him and reached for the grey tie sticking out of his pants pocket. She looped it around his neck and made short work of the knot before turning his collar down.
"For what it's worth," he continued, "I think you'll be a great mother someday."
"Someday," she mused, avoiding his eyes as she smoothed out the thin strip of polyester across his chest before taking a step back. Sensing that the conversation had taken a serious turn at exactly the wrong time, he cleared his throat, twisting his fingers around his tie and flipping up the end.
"Wouldn't Beckman get suspicious if she sees me in my full Buy More glory?" Not that he knew what Beckman thought he did for a living, he thought as he tucked in his shirt, but he didn't get a chance to ask.
"We're leaving soon," Sarah said. "There's a lot to get through today, so give me a five minute head start and you won't run into her." She ducked into the closet to retrieve Maggie's backpack and passed it to him.
"What about breakfast?" he asked. "You can't wheel and deal on an empty stomach."
"We'll order in from the deli down the block. Tomorrow we'll have a family breakfast as usual, but no Fruit Loops for Maggie, or else she might join the cast on stage."
It took him a second to catch up, he'd completely forgotten about The Nutcracker, something he should've remembered before he'd handed Big Mike his resignation letter.
"Yeah, about that … I haven't asked Big Mike for time off yet and I don't know if I can now that I'm working my notice."
She reached for his tie again to adjust the knot. Then she pushed onto her toes until they were almost nose to nose and cupped his jaw with both hands.
"Don't worry." She pressed a quick kiss to his lips. "I'll call in a computer emergency first thing in the morning and request you personally. It should keep you busy all day."
With a hand on the small of her back Chuck prevented Sarah from pulling away just yet, which, now that he'd thought about it, was a really bad idea. It put him within smacking range, and he was sure that's what would follow if he told her that he'd accidently spilled half the beans to the store manager. A service request from her would have Big Mike assume that it was a booty call, and Chuck wasn't particularly keen on finding out if it was possible to die from embarrassment.
"It's okay," he said, letting her go, hoping it was subtle enough to not raise her suspicions. "I'll man up and take care of it."
Sarah raised an eyebrow at that and for a second he thought she was onto him. Then the corner of her mouth twisted upwards. "You're going to call in sick."
So maybe she did bust him, but at least not in the way he'd anticipated. He grinned back at her. "Yeah."
98. Pest Control
"Please excuse me," Beckman said as she pushed away from the conference table, her ringing mobile phone in hand. "I need to take this."
She was barely out of the room before Carina leaned across the polished surface and took Sarah's pen from her while she was in the middle of jotting down a note.
"What?" Sarah asked, not bothering to hide her annoyance.
Carina shot a look over her shoulder. "Well?" she asked when she was satisfied that the coast was clear. "Have you taken care of the Bryce problem yet?"
"Yes, Carina. I slipped out in the middle of the night, went over to his hotel and put a bullet between his eyes while he was sleeping." Sarah reached over and grabbed her pen back. "Casey is making the necessary arrangements," she said, dropping the sarcasm.
"You asked Casey to off him? That's smart, if the cops can't trace it back to you. Personally I'd go for cutting his brakes and making it look like an accident – "
"No one is getting offed or whacked or having their car tampered with. I really worry about your state of mind sometimes."
"You're the one who brought it up," Carina said. Then she held up her palms when Sarah flashed her a look. "I wasn't serious. So what is this master plan of yours?"
Sarah was reluctant to reveal the details, but she knew the redhead wouldn't stop pestering her until she did. She glanced at the door this time, making sure Beckman didn't return unexpectedly, kind of hoping that she would just to buy her a little more time. When that didn't happen, Sarah shifted in her seat.
She recounted briefly what she'd told Chuck, adding that she'd asked Casey to get in touch with his contact at the LAPD to set up the sting. Carina's face grew redder as Sarah spoke, and was almost the color of her hair when she rolled her chair back and stood up. With both palms on the table she towered over Sarah, but Sarah was familiar with the intimidation tactics and coolly regarded her from her seated position.
"Are you crazy?" Carina asked. "You will sink this whole deal."
"It's not going down until the contract is signed. The odds of Diane finding out are very small."
"Until it's splashed all over the front page of the New York Times."
"I seriously doubt The New York Times will be interested in such a small scandal happening on the opposite coast. The local papers might carry it for a day or two and then it will blow over."
Carina frowned at her. "You've clearly been too busy playing house to keep up with the news. William Larkin has announced his plans to run for senator in the next election. Can you imagine the field day his opposition will have if his son is arrested? And don't think for a second that the Larkins won't hit back. They'll blame everything on you, the scorned ex-girlfriend. And when Beckman gets wind of it, she'll add her two cents about how you deceived her and the whole thing will backfire. Badly."
Sarah wanted to point out that the evidence was stacked against Bryce, but the argument died on her lips. It wouldn't matter. When it came to politics a whole different set of rules applied, and newspapers were far more interested in sensationalism than facts. She clenched her jaw as her fingers tightened around her pen, and then, in a moment of weakness, her self-control slipped as she hurled it across the table. It bounced twice before rolling off the other end. Carina followed the pen's path and then looked at Sarah again.
"That about sums it up," she said, sitting back down.
Sarah huffed out her frustration. Her entire plan to keep Bryce away from Chuck and Maggie had just gone up in smoke. Though Carina hadn't explicitly said it, Sarah knew that if she went down, Carina would go down with her, as would Chuck. His hopes of starting up his own company would suffer a severe setback and if it so happened that he found himself in a situation where he'd have to fight for custody of his daughter, being involved in a scandal like the one Carina had predicted could pretty much sink his chances. They'd all be royally screwed.
"So what now?" Sarah asked tersely, not completely sure that if Carina recommended foul play again that she would shoot the idea down. She wished she'd brought charges against Bryce three months ago, then none of this would be happening, but that ship had sailed.
"Pay him," Carina said. "Two million is not going to put you in the poor house."
"That's a short term solution to a long term problem."
Carina shook her head in disagreement. "He can't hold this over your head forever." As she said it Sarah could practically see the penny drop, but before either of them could say anything more they heard Beckman's voice outside the conference room as she finished up her call.
With one eye on the door, Carina scrawled something on the legal pad in front of her and passed it across to Sarah as Beckman entered.
"I'm sorry that took so long," she said, taking her seat. She slipped her reading glasses back on her nose and straightened the papers in front of her.
Sarah responded with an absent nod as she tried to read Carina's chicken scratch, but all she could make out was 'phone calls', 'favors' and 'all set', and when she sent her a questioning look, Carina mouthed, "Pay him."
Beckman looked up from her copy of the contract at precisely the wrong time. "Is there a problem?"
"A little pest control issue," Carina said, smiling sweetly, "but don't worry, we have a handle on it."
99. Daydream Believer
With an elbow propped up on the Nerd Herd desk and his chin in his healthy hand, Chuck watched the shoppers meander through the aisles. He saw a woman on three studying an alarm clock and snorted, wondering who such a practical, but lame, gift was intended for. If it was anyone other than that irritating coworker two cubicles over whose name she was unfortunate enough to draw from the Secret Santa Hat, then her gift choice was just plain wrong.
Despite the larger than normal crowd, the desk had been quiet, leaving Chuck rather bored. He'd been down to the cage, but after trying to repair a PC that was nearly older than he was, only to have the screwdriver slip, resulting in him hitting the back of his hand against the sharp inside edge of the desktop's casing, he'd decided to leave it for someone else fix. Most likely Santa's elves, he mused, as Jeff and Lester had declared themselves Mac guys and refused to touch anything that didn't bear an oddly smooth bitten apple.
He scanned the shop once more for any approaching customers and when he didn't see any his mind started to wander. He pictured Sarah in the black business suit she'd chosen this morning, her hair pinned up in an elegant French roll. He could practically see her sitting behind her desk in an oversized leather chair, framed by a glass wall overlooking the city. But she was not looking at the view. Instead she was studying some sort of report, her nose scrunched up in that cute way it did whenever she was concentrating. Without taking her eyes off her computer screen, she unbuttoned her jacket to get more comfortable, letting the lapels part to reveal the crisp white blouse tucked neatly into her knee high skirt which accentuated her slender waist.
"Jeff thought he was going to eat ninety Twinkies in under three minutes, but the bet was actually for ninety boxes. We thought he was going to die."
Chuck barely heard Morgan as he imagined Sarah crossing one knee over the other, causing her skirt to ride up an inch or two, exposing a long, well-toned leg that ended in a shapely ankle. Her high heel-clad foot bobbed up and down as she absentmindedly chewed on the earpiece of her glasses.
"That's nice," Chuck replied, still staring off into space.
"Tell that to the guys who had to clean Loretta afterwards. You should've been there, Chuck. There was cream filling everywhere. I'll never eat another Twinkie as long as I live."
Chuck let out a longing sigh. "Sure," he said, "we can have Twinkies for lunch."
Morgan grabbed the back of Chuck's chair and spun it around, pulling him out of his fantasy in the cruelest way.
"You're not listening to a word I'm saying." Chuck's disappointment at the interruption must have shown on his face because his bearded friend took a step back in the already restricted space, clearly distressed. "Oh man," he said. "Oh, Chuck, I'm so sorry."
Chuck's eyes widened and his ears started to burn. "What? Why?" He tried to remember if he'd inadvertently let something slip to give away what was going on his head, but all he could think about was Sarah's soft lips, wrapped around that earpiece.
"You had 'The Talk' with Sarah last night and she shot you down. Oh, that sucks."
It took Chuck a second to catch up and he almost expelled a relieved breath when he realized where the conversation was heading.
"No," he said, "we didn't – " He cut himself short. If he told Morgan that 'The Talk' didn't happen, at least not in the way he'd planned, he'd have to explain about Bryce, and that was a topic best left alone. Sarah had it under control and he trusted her. "She didn't shoot me down," he said instead.
"She didn't?" A grin split his beard in two. "Well, forgive me for borrowing a phrase from the Captain, but that's awesome. Put it there, buddy." Morgan raised a hand for a high five, and immature as it was, Chuck decided to humor him, but Morgan's arm dropped before he could make contact. "Ouch," Morgan said, his eyes bouncing between Chuck's face and his bandaged hand. "Did the headboard do that? Sarah is a real tiger, isn't she? How are your – " He made a V with his fingers, pointing to the floor, his hands slightly lower than his waist. " – other parts?"
Chuck slapped both hands over his face, shaking his head. "Morgan!"
And when he thought he couldn't be any more horrified, Chuck heard Jeff's drawl behind him. "What is that? The new secret handshake the cool kids use these days?"
"Jeffrey, Jeffrey, Jeffrey," Lester replied, "everybody knows that's the universal sign for – "
"Guys," Chuck cut in, letting his hands drop as he whirled his chair around. "Don't you have a song to rehearse for the Christmas … holiday party," he quickly amended under Lester's sneer.
"Please, Charles," Lester said, "we're professionals."
"Even professionals practice," Chuck replied. "It keeps them on top of their game."
Lester made the same face Maggie did when evaluating the merit of what Chuck had said.
"He's right, you know. You go lubricate your throat and I'll warm up the mike," Jeff said, before staggering in the direction of the home theatre room.
Lester stayed behind, but only for a second. Then a look between shock and revulsion crossed his face as he took off after Jeff. "I will warm up my own microphone, Jeffrey! Jefferson, wait! I'm not letting you touch it again!"
Chuck forehead hit the desk with an audible thump and he groaned, promising himself to think about this moment whenever he missed this job. He hoped it wouldn't be too often.
"Okay," Morgan said, reminding Chuck that he'd forgotten all about him. "Where were we?"
"Sales targets." Sitting up straight, he swung his chair back, making a sweeping gesture with his arm. "Look at all these people, Morgan. They're like a herd of wounded gazelles. Easy prey." He stood and grabbed his buddy by the shoulders. "Go. Sell. Release your inner sales beast and go straight for the throat."
"Go straight for the kill," Morgan said, pumping a fist in the air.
"Yes."
Morgan was the only adult he knew, and he used that term loosely, that could be as easily distracted as his four year old. Chuck watched in quiet amusement as he hopped onto the counter, did a karate kick jump off the other side and zoomed in on his first target. Happy to be alone again, Chuck plopped into his chair and took up his previous position of chin in hand, free to continue his daydream.
100. Drinks and a Show
The world made a lot more sense from the inside of a steaming hot bubble bath. Sarah sunk back against the edge of the tub with a contented sigh. It was the first time in a week she'd gotten some alone time to just kick back and regroup. She lifted the wine glass to her lips and took a sip, savoring the taste of the juicy plum and chocolate flavors on her tongue before swallowing the velvety red liquid. The merlot was a good choice to warm herself up from the inside. The chill in the California air had turned a bit too icy for her liking, leaving her cold to the bone by the time she'd returned home. But that was a distant memory as she felt her muscles relax and the tension that had been building up in her shoulders melt away.
It had been a long day of negotiations but they'd managed to hammer out a contract which all parties were in agreement with. All that remained was for Beckman's attorneys to review the legal jargon and once the last minute changes were made, they could sign and everything would be over with.
Not everything, she thought.
There was still the matter of Bryce Larkin. She and Carina hadn't gotten another opportunity to discuss it further, and then Carina had disappeared with a "hot date, see you tomorrow" right after uncle Roan had showed up to take Beckman to dinner. Sarah had tried calling, but kept getting voicemail. She supposed it wouldn't be the end of the world to let the problem marinate overnight, but as much as she tried to put it out of her head, it kept bugging her that Bryce knew exactly when to show up. It could not be a coincidence.
She took another sip of wine and closed her eyes, forcing all the negativity out of her head. There was nothing she could do about Bryce at that exact moment, so it was pointless to let thoughts of him spoil her evening. All she wanted was a quiet evening at home with Chuck and Maggie. No surprise visits from exes, no pretend in-laws and no Beckman. She owed her uncle big for that one and wondered how a nice fancy retirement condo in Palm Springs would grab him.
"Oh boy."
Sarah's eyes snapped open, meeting Chuck's equally wide ones through a thin cloud of steam. Failing to suppress a startled shriek, she was barely aware of the wine glass slipping through her fingers. It hit the edge of the tub and shattered, sending shards of glass into the water. That she did notice as her survival instincts kicked in, and she shot up to avoid getting cut. An audible gasp divided her attention between the hazard at her feet and the man standing frozen in the middle of the bathroom. Chuck's jaw went slack, as did her own, when she grabbed for the nearest towel to cover up. She let it fall open, only to discover that it was a hand towel, which didn't cover a thing. She ditched it, not caring when it fell into the water, opting to shield herself with her arms and hands instead.
Chuck recovered his ability of speech first. "Sarah, I am so sorry. I didn't know you were naked…home. I didn't know you were home – " He trailed off as his gaze did the same.
"Chuck," she said, snapping her fingers at him to get his attention and then pointing two at her face. "Eyes up here."
He obeyed, tilting his head back up, but not before hitting a slight speed bump on the way, making her realize that she shouldn't have moved her hand, which she quickly returned to her chest.
When he still didn't make a move to retreat into the bedroom, she asked, "Could you turn around?"
The question caused him to finally blink. "Yeah. Sorry." He spun around, crashing his hip into the basin in the process. He groaned, bending over sideways, his bandaged hand rubbing the injured spot. "I'm sorry," he said again, "It was an accident, I swear. And I didn't even see that much. The bubbles and your hands were blocking most of the age restricted bits and – "
Sarah blushed to her roots. "Chuck, stop talking."
"Yeah, that's probably for the best."
They stood like that for a beat, both silent, until a shiver ran down her spine and goose bumps started to break out over her skin as her body cooled down from the bath, expedited by her lack of clothes.
"Not to be rude, Chuck," she said, "but could you perhaps leave?"
"I'm going to need a minute," he replied.
"Your hip?"
He shook his head as his ears turned red and Sarah almost groaned out loud when she realized what he meant. Chuck should really learn to be a little less honest. "Could you perhaps take that minute in the bedroom?" she asked and cringed. She couldn't believe they were having this conversation.
"Yeah. Sure. Why didn't I think of that?" He took a limping step forward. "Do you want the door open or closed?" He didn't wait for a response. "I'll just close it," he answered his own question.
oooOooo
"Wow. Oh, wow-ee wow."
Chuck slapped both hands over his mouth when he realized he'd said it out loud, hoping that Sarah couldn't hear him from the other side of the door. He really hadn't meant to invade her privacy like that. He should've knocked. Maybe he did knock. He tried to remember if he had knocked, but his short term memory seemed to be temporarily overridden. Or perhaps permanently. All he could recall was that she'd been on his mind all day, but not quite like that. He gave himself a mental shake. He always knocked. Since walking in on Ellie and Awesome in the shower…
The disturbing turn his thoughts had taken took care of his pressing problem, which was lucky as Ellie stormed into the room, looking panicked. He stared at her for a second before remembering that she'd come in after driving him home, wanting to speak to Sarah about the arrangements for Christmas Day.
"Is everything okay?" Ellie asked. "It sounded like someone was being attacked in here. What happened to your hip?"
The second part of 'we' followed short on her heels, clutching Mr. Oink under her arm. "Where's Kitty? I heard her scream all the way to my room."
Chuck's mouth opened and closed, but no sound came out. As if it wasn't bad enough that he'd walked in on Sarah he now had to deal with an onslaught of questions from his sister and daughter of all people. But then it got worse when Casey appeared in the doorway.
"What happened?" he asked gruffly.
"Nothing happened," Chuck replied. "Everyone is fine, thank you, Casey." Thankfully the butler got the message and disappeared as fast as he appeared. It was a little creepy, really.
"It didn't sound like nothing," Ellie said.
"There was a spider." Chuck waved in the direction of the door behind him, mentally adding another bad karma point to the tally in head. "A really, really big spider. In the bathroom. That's where Kitty is. In the bathroom. Na…not in here."
"Did you catch it?" Maggie asked, bobbing excitedly on the spot. "Can I keep it? Please, Daddy, please? It can live my dollhouse."
"I guess we'll have to wait and see if Kitty caught it," Ellie said, sending him a pointed look. "You left Sarah in there to deal with it? That's not very manly, little brother."
"She's a big girl," he said, which was clearly the wrong thing to say, on so many levels. "She's okay," he amended. He turned his head, mainly to avoid his sister's glare, and raised his voice. "Are you okay in there, honey?"
The bathroom door opened and Sarah stepped out, busy tucking one end of the towel into the top wrapped tightly across her chest.
"That's real nice, Chuck. Sweet talk me now, after you've seen – " She cut herself short when she spotted Ellie who slipped her hand over Maggie's eyes. "Uh, hi!" Sarah cleared her throat, probably because she sounded like a teenage girl at a Bieber concert. "Excuse me," she said, backtracking into the bathroom and closing the door almost all the way.
"Is Daddy gonna kiss Kitty again?" Maggie asked.
Ellie turned her niece by the shoulders, pointing her in the direction of the door. "I don't know what Daddy and Kitty are doing," she said as she marched the little girl out of the room, "but I do know that we probably shouldn't ask."
uthor's beta's 10-month-old son's note: asdascxzxcsaddscxasdwe
A/N: I think that's baby speak for "Happy Thanksgiving!" It's early, but I just want to say that I'm grateful for every review posted on this story, over 800 and counting. Wow! Thank you!
No promises or deadlines today as we've established that I suck at those, so for now, to quote my 3-year-old niece (who may or may not be the next Terminator): I'll be back.