Thanks, Poa, for once again keeping me readable (at least grammatically).

CHUCK VERSUS THE BUY MORE BOMBER

Chapter 11

Roomies

Chuck was decidedly uncomfortable. The shoes they had given him at the hospital were a half size too small; his hands ached; and although the scrubs were better than the hospital gown, he still felt like he was wearing pajamas in public. Worse than all of that, however, was contemplating spending the next few days living in such close proximity to the gorgeous woman beside him. Forget burned and blistered hands. Forget Fulcrum agents putting bamboo shoots under his fingernails. (Did anyone really do that? He'd have to ask Casey; Casey would know.) Real torture was living in close proximity to the most beautiful woman in the world and having her treat you like her brother.

Of course, Chuck had lots of experience in that department. Being the gangly, nerdy kid in school, he had lots of experience with girls he liked who 'just wanted to be friends.' (The three worst words in the English language to a love-struck teenage boy: 'Let's be friends.'). But Sarah was different. There was a connection. He could feel it. Heck, he had felt a literal and quite passionate connection on the dock when they thought they were about to die and in his apartment when Roan goaded them into kissing. He was sure the next several days were going to be the longest of his life. At least the moth circling the flame didn't know it was going to get burned.

Sarah was trying to keep her eyes on the road, but she couldn't help stealing sidelong glances at the man in the car next to her. He was fidgeting in the seat like a schoolboy. Was it because of his burns or was it the thought of living with her for the next few days that was causing him to be so nervous? Was staying with her really that bad? Was he dreading spending time with her that much? Granted, she wasn't the easiest person in the world to get along with. She decided she had to say something.

"Listen, Chuck," she started.

"Hmm? What?" he stammered as she startled him out of his reverie.

"I know that staying with me isn't all that great for you. I mean, I'm sure I'm not the easiest person to live with. You'd probably be more comfortable at Casey's, but there's too much of a chance of you bumping into Ellie or Devon."

"What? No. I'm… It's great. I'm looking forward to being your roomie for a few days," he said without much enthusiasm and then chuckled nervously.

Sarah sighed. What more proof did she need? "It, ah… It'll be good for our cover," she said. "I know Ellie has been pushing a lot lately for us to 'take it to the next level,' as Devon says."

"Mmm hmm," Chuck said. "Our cover." Well, that confirmed it. It was all about the job and the cover. She was probably dreading having to put up with him.

"It might even be fun," she said. "We can catch up on all those movies you've been trying to get me to watch."

"Going to be a blast," Chuck said.

"And look at it this way. It'll give us plenty of time to brainstorm about the mission."

"The mission. Right," Chuck said. Funny, the whole 'living with Sarah' thing had totally driven the thought of the Buy More Bomber out of his mind.

They drove on in awkward silence the rest of the way to Chuck's apartment. Ellie and Awesome were at work, so there was time for them to pack a suitcase for Chuck. Chuck tried to leave Ellie a note, but the pain and the bandages made his handwriting worse than Devon's (Devon was a doctor, after all), so Sarah wrote the note for him. "She'll probably be thrilled to get a note from you, anyway," Chuck told her. Chuck grabbed a box of DVDs to bring to Sarah's hotel; various movies that he had deemed necessary for her proper education in pop culture: The Princess Bride, Monty Python and the Holy Grail, Animal House, Serenity (although that meant he had to bring along the complete Firefly series, as well), Clerks and several others. After debating a bit, he tossed in a copy of Can't Buy Me Love in which Patrick Dempsey, of all people, played a nerd who ends up with the pretty, popular girl. Hey, he reasoned, it couldn't hurt to drop a few hints.

Chuck gingerly slung his bag over his shoulder while Sarah carried his suitcase. They headed out to Sarah's car and then drove over to her hotel. After carrying Chuck's bags into the room, they looked at each other nervously. "Well, here we are," Chuck said. He looked around the room. "So, should we order up a cot or something?"

"Chuck, you're my boyfriend staying at my place. Don't you think it would look a little suspicious if I order a cot?"

Chuck looked the room over. "I guess I can sleep on the couch," he said.

Sarah rolled her eyes. "Come on, Chuck. We can share the bed." She smiled mischievously. "Besides, I know you're going to be keeping your hands to yourself."

That brought a grin to Chuck's face. Chuck sat down on the edge of the bed and Sarah sat down next to him. "Do you really think it's Abdul al Fayed and not Fulcrum who's bombing the Buy Mores?" Chuck asked.

Sarah nodded. "I can't see Fulcrum going about it this way. If they were trying to flush out whoever it was we were protecting, they would have stopped after the first, maybe the second bombing. The third bombing just doesn't make sense for Fulcum. After all, odds are that Buy More will temporarily close all their stores and how does that benefit Fulcrum?"

"So we have a Red Jihad faction loose in Southern California blowing up Buy Mores to get back at Moses Finkelstein, Founder and CEO of Buy More, for wrecking their organization thirty years ago," Chuck said. "Great." He drew out the word 'great.' "So what's our next step?" he asked.

"Some old fashioned spy work," Sarah replied. "Unfortunately, we have to continue on with what we've been doing: going over the security footage, looking for Red Jihad members, tracing explosives and bomb parts… It's the tedious part of spy work. No glamorous parties. No high-stakes games of baccarat. Just lots of legwork. A lot of it is going to be done by the CIA and FBI forensics teams. They're sifting through the bomb debris, looking for clues."

She yawned. "We can talk about it tomorrow. I think we could both use a good night's sleep. I'll change in the bathroom." She pulled some clothes out of her dresser and headed into the bathroom.

Chuck started to panic. In all the flurry of getting his things, he hadn't thought to pack any pajamas. All he had to sleep in were his boxers and a t-shirt. He dug though his suitcase and then realized – he was wearing the scrubs! Since they felt like pajamas to him, he could just use them as his pajamas. He breathed a sigh of relief and took off his shoes and socks.

The bathroom door opened and Sarah came out dressed in a little cami top and boy shorts. Chuck felt his heart skip a beat and then start to pound out a conga as it moved up into his throat. "Aren't you going to get ready for bed?" she asked him.

"I, ah, didn't have any pajamas so I thought I'd just wear the scrubs."

Sarah shrugged. "Suit yourself. You might be a little warm, though."

"I think that's a given," Chuck muttered.

"What's that, Chuck?" Sarah asked.

"Oh, nothing. Nothing. Just, um, tired. Yep. Ready for bed. Hit the sack. Saw some logs. Roll in the… I mean, hit the hay."

Sarah grinned at him and Chuck decided right then and there that there was no sight more beautiful than Sarah's smile. Especially when it was directed at him.

Her smile faded just a touch and she bit her bottom lip. "Oh. Well if you're that tired, I guess we can go right to bed. I mean, right to sleep."

"Oh," Chuck said. "Was there, you know, something else you had in mind?"

Sarah blushed a little. She couldn't exactly say what was going through her mind right now. So instead she said, "Well, it was still a little early, so I was thinking, you know, that maybe you wanted to watch a movie… or something… But if you're tired…"

"No!" Chuck said a tad too quickly and just a little too forcefully. He took a breath. "I mean, if you wanted to watch a movie, I guess I'm not that tired."

"Are you sure? Because if you just wanted to go to sleep…"

"No. No. Really. A movie would be, you know… fine."

"Okay… um… Good. Did you want to watch one that you brought, or we could see what's on pay per view."

"Whatever you want to do," Chuck said. "I mean, it's your room."

"How about you pick one."

Chuck walked over to the box of movies he'd brought and reached for Can't Buy Me Love, then stopped. 'Maybe not the first night,' he thought. He pulled out Clerks instead. Maybe a little Kevin Smith was the way to go.

Chuck popped in the movie, and then Sarah patted the bed next to her and said, "Well come on. You're blocking the screen."

Chuck climbed onto bed beside her, making sure not to enter the no man's land running through the center of the bed.

Chuck woke the next morning to the sound of a 'whump, whump, whack.' He slowly opened his eyes and sat up in bed. He felt a momentary disorientation at waking up somewhere other than his own room, but then remembered that he had stayed with Sarah last night.

His face felt hot and his hands ached. He looked over to see Sarah punching the heavy bag hanging from her ceiling.

She looked over at him and smiled. "Good morning, Chuck. How did you sleep?"

"Oh, um, fine," Chuck said. He didn't remember falling asleep. They were in bed, watching the movie and… He drew a blank after that. He must have fallen asleep in the middle of the movie.

"Sorry for waking you," she said. "But I thought it was about time for you to get up anyway. Can't have you lazing in bed all day."

Chuck looked over at the alarm clock; the same one he had given her two Christmases ago. Seven fifteen. He stretched and yawned. "I better get moving. I'm going to be late."

"Chuck, I don't think you should go to the Buy More today. It'll raise too many questions about how you got hurt. Casey can take care of the store. Besides, I can't imagine that they would open the stores today anyway."

"Ah, but if we don't open, then we're 'letting the terrorists win'," Chuck said with the hint of a smile to show that he was being a little bit facetious.

Chuck's phone buzzed and he reached over to the night stand and picked it up. "Hmm," he said. "Buy More Corporation. You must be right. They're probably calling to tell me not to come in today."

Chuck hit the 'receive call' button. "Hello? This is Chuck Bartowski."

An officious-sounding woman's voice said, "Please hold for Moses Finkelstein, Founder and CEO of Buy More."

'Moses Finkelstein,' Chuck mouthed to Sarah, putting his thumb over the mike on the phone to make sure he wasn't heard on the other end.

"Chuck Bartowski? This is Moses Finkelstein, Founder and CEO of Buy More. How are you this morning, young man?"

"Um, fine sir. Thank you for asking. What can I do for you?"

"I'd like to see you in my office this morning. I'll send a car around for you there at your apartment. Say, thirty minutes?"

"I'm, uh, sorry sir. I just got up and… well, I'm not at my apartment. I know you're a busy man and all, and I hate to keep you waiting, but can we make it an hour?"

There was a chuckle from the other end of the phone. "Of course. Of course. One hour. I'll send my driver."

"Yes, sir. Thank you, sir," Chuck said. The line clicked dead.

"What was that all about?" Sarah asked.

"Moses Finkelstein, Founder and CEO of Buy More, wants to see me in his office," Chuck said. "He's sending a car to my apartment in an hour."

"Do you know why?" Sarah asked.

Chuck shook his head. "No idea," he said.

Sarah frowned. "We'll put a bug on you and Casey and I will listen in," she said. Then she shrugged. "Well, I guess we're going to have to get you cleaned up."

Chuck looked down at his gauze-covered hands. "Um," he said. "I'm not supposed to get my hands wet. How am I supposed to take my shower?"

"I guess you'll just have to take a bath," Sarah said. "I'll give you a hand."

"Oh. Okay, I…" And then the implications of what she said kicked in. "What do you mean, give me a hand?" he asked cautiously.

"Well, you can't exactly wash yourself without getting your hands wet," Sarah said. She stepped into the bathroom and started the water running for his bath.

Chuck stood there with a deer-in-the-headlights look. Okay. Facing down armed mercenaries? No problem. Jumping off a building? No sweat. Running into a burning building? Piece of cake. Sitting in a bathtub while Sarah washed him? Danger Will Robinson! Danger!

"Um, Sarah? I think I can probably take care of it myself," he said.

Sarah poked her head out of the bathroom door; she was obviously kneeling next to the tub. "What was that, Chuck?" she asked, raising her voice to be heard over the water filling the tub.

"I said," Chuck replied, raising his voice, "I think I can probably take a bath by myself."

"Chuck, don't be silly. I don't mind. Now get undressed. You're going to be late."

Chuck started to reply, but Sarah ducked her head back into the bathroom. With all the enthusiasm of a man taking the last walk to the gallows, Chuck stripped off the scrubs but left on his underwear. 'Just like a swimsuit,' he told himself. 'Just like a swimsuit.'

He padded over to the bathroom and stood in the doorway. Sarah smiled at seeing him still wearing his boxers. "Okay, Chuck, into the tub. And be careful. I don't want you to get your hands wet."

The tub was filled with bubbles. Chuck stepped into the tub and sniffed. "Lilacs?" he asked.

Sarah shrugged and grinned up at him. "Sorry. I'm all out of manly bubble bath."

Chuck sighed and lowered himself into the water with Sarah holding his elbow to steady him. "Okay, just relax," she said.

'Easy for you to say,' he thought. He felt as tense as an over-wound watch. Sarah picked up a washcloth and some soap and started to gently scrub his upper torso. Chuck was glad the bubbles hid his lower torso.

Sarah was gentle but thorough and with her soothing ministrations he slowly started to relax. She took extra care with his face, barely dabbing his raw flesh to avoid hurting him. "Okay, lean back," she said. He did and she poured water over his head. She poured a little shampoo in her palm and then started to gently work it into his hair.

"Vanilla?" he asked, sniffing at the shampoo.

"It's my favorite," she replied.

Chuck wasn't sure how he was going to concentrate if he went through the day smelling faintly of Sarah and her lilacs and vanilla. Such sweet torture.

Chuck had always enjoyed having the stylist shampoo his hair. There was something soothing and rather sensual about someone gently massaging your scalp. Chuck closed his eyes and sighed in contentment. Sarah rinsed his hair and then poured more shampoo in her hand before working it in again. She poured more water over his head, careful to avoid getting any on his face. Finally, she picked up a towel and patted his hair.

Chuck opened his eyes and looked at her. She was smiling sweetly at him. "Thank you," he said softly.

"Wait, I'm not done," she said.

She stepped over to the sink and came back with his razor and some shaving cream. "You're not…" he started to say.

She gave him a mischievous smile. "What's the matter? Don't you trust me?" she asked.

"Completely," he replied nervously.

If having Sarah wash his hair was sensual, having her shave him was almost enough to drive him insane. He was almost thankful for the twinges of pain from his burns as she worked the razor; at least it kept him focused. He would wince when that happened and she would quickly apologize and lay a comforting hand on his shoulder. The shave finished, she carefully rinsed his face and then patted it dry.

"Okay," she said. "All clean." Chuck was too nervous to notice how flushed her face was. "Get dressed and then I'll redress those hands."

Chuck looked nervous as he glanced around. Sarah suppressed a giggle, picked up a towel and then turned her back to him as she handed him the towel. "Um, thanks," he said.

"Any time," Sarah breathed, then hurried out of the bathroom before she could do something she would regret later.

Chuck toweled himself and wrapped the towel around his waist. He poked his head out of the bathroom. Sarah was grabbing some clothes. "Let me take a quick shower while you get dressed," she said.

She squeezed past him into the bathroom and he smiled nervously at her. He dressed while she showered, deciding that his Nerd Herd Uniform was a safe bet for a meeting with Moses Finkelstein, Founder and CEO of Buy More. The problem was he couldn't tie his shoes or his tie. He felt embarrassed asking Sarah for help, but after several tries left his hands feeling like they were on fire, he flopped on the edge of the bed to wait for her.

Sarah came out of the bathroom wearing a short sleeve blue top and jeans. "I'll only be a minute," she said as she stepped over to the vanity to dry her hair and apply her makeup. Fortunately, training for female spies included quick-changes and fast application of makeup. Chuck watched her, fascinated. She certainly was an expert.

"Ready," she said, standing and turning around. Chuck smiled. She looked beautiful. But then, she always looked beautiful.

She stepped over to the bed and knelt before him to tie his 'Chucks' and then stood to tie his necktie. "I feel like a three year old, having someone bathe me and dress me," he grumbled good-naturedly.

Sarah touched his arm. "Well you wouldn't be in this predicament without me, so it's the least I can do."

She grabbed a tray on which she had placed her first aid supplies. She gently applied the lotion the doctor had given them to his face and then carefully unwrapped his bandaged hands before applying an ointment and then gingerly re-wrapping them with fresh gauze.

He stood and she took a couple moments to straighten his tie, brush a stray curl behind his ear and brush a few wrinkles out of his shirt.

"Thank you," he said softly.

Sarah grabbed her purse, stuck her gun in her waistband and held the door for Chuck.

"Can we stop for donuts?" he asked.

"Chocolate croissants," she countered.

"I can live with that," he said.