A/N: The lack of updates came from a deadly combination of a writer's block and (too much) school work, I swear! Please forgive me (: Chapter 4, woohoo! I did my best to churn out something that was actually readable, but theprincess1511 decided that it was shite, so I rewrote the ending and she thought it was much better. I think she's lying. Is she lying? Tell me if she's lying. I'm sorry if this A/N sucks, I'm really sleepy right now, and I've gotta wake up pretty early. Thanks so much for sticking around and reading this story even though it's crap.
Disclaimers - I don't own Chuck.
West Side Hospital
18th November
4:30PM
"Wait, so you call him Captain Awesome?"
"Yeah, wait till you meet him! Everything he does is awesome. Climbing mountains, jumping out of planes, flossing..." He deadpans, before breaking into a heart-stopping grin that thawed her heart, just a little bit.
She grins, unable to stop the chuckle that escapes her lips. "That's funny."
She watches curiously as he shrugs nonchalantly, his lips curling into a tiny smirk. "Well, I'm a funny guy."
She takes a quick sip from the coffee cup placed by the side of her hospital bed, revelling in the feeling of the warm liquid flowing down the back of her throat. She sighs contently, resting the cup in her palm while she glanced back at him. He'd been bringing coffee to her, almost every day, making conversation and giving her a chance to see him, since he wasn't her doctor. And she wasn't exactly complaining either.
As she still felt the sharp burn of her wounds with every movement, she had grudgingly accepted the painkillers Chuck had offered, along with the explanation of why she had been brought out of a medically-induced coma prematurely – she had somehow been resistant to the drug. But she wasn't about to tell them why.
"That's good, because I am not funny. It's rare that you find a doctor with so much character, but I wouldn't know. The last time I've ever been to a hospital was when I was at least eight years old."
Liar. She knows for a fact that the last time she had been admitted to any hospital had been a mere three years ago, where she had been working solo for the better part, after Casey had she hadn't been kidding about the doctors-with-no-character part.
"No way, eight years old?" He exclaims in shock, and she smiles at his comical reaction.
"I'm a pretty healthy person."
"I can see that."
They fall into a lapse of awkward silence as she hides her blush into her coffee cup, cursing silently when the last of her coffee travels into her stomach. She feels its tingle as she catches the red hue that colours his cheeks, and she watches him avert his eyes, darting them toward the floor, towards his pair of jet black Chuck Taylor's. She fails to catch the giggle before it escapes her lips.
"What?" He asks, grinning brightly as their eyes meet again.
She bites her lip, chewing softly on the flesh, shaking her head slowly.
"Come on, tell me," he urges sternly, although his expression spoke volumes of the humour in his mood.
"Nah, it's stupid..." She reasons, albeit futilely as she catches the look in his eye.
Catching her gaze, he looks down at his attire. She covers her mouth with a hand, hiding a smile, as his hand inconspicuously checks the zipper on his formal black pants. Puzzled, he turns his attention back to her, eyebrows creasing in frustration.
"You're wearing Chuck Taylor's," she states, matter-of-factly.
"And?"
"You're Chuck. And you're wearing Chucks."
"Oh, yeah," he grins toothily, as though he hadn't noticed that fact before. He gives her a roll of his shoulders. "Ellie, my sister, thought it would've been a great topic of conversation in adulthood, so she's been training me to wear them since I was a kid. On the plus side though, they're really comfy."
"Ellie... Ellie Bartowski? Isn't she a doctor here as well?"
"Well, well, well, look who's been doing her homework!"
"It might've have been due to the fact that the nurses always ask which Bartowski I'm asking for whenever I push the damn button," she smiles, though her tone conveys just the right amount of irritation.
Before he can reply, however, she cuts in, "I'm sorry for hurting your friend, by the way. He kept hitting on me. The guy just managed to put the painkillers in before – once again, I'm sorry – I punched him. I didn't really use that much force though... I barely had enough energy to lift my arm."
All he could say was a high pitched, "Oh?"
"In my defence, I was technically drugged. I just lost it for a bit there."
"It's alright, I've spoken to Daniel, and he's completely fine with it. Apart from the huge bandage over his nose, of course. "
They share a smile for a minute or so, before they both chime harmoniously in peals of laughter. He notices the dimples that form in her cheeks when she laughs, and how she normally covers her mouth with a slender hand, as though the action of laughing was something that was not meant to be shared.
He's always been an observant person, never failing to memorize detail, colours, quirks and scars. He notices the way her eyes tended to sparkle even brighter when she laughs. He notices how her teeth, though imperfect, complimented her features in every way possible. He also notices the colour of her eyes – the greyish blue hue that paralyzed him with just a simple glance. Even Quinn Matthews' eyes had nothing on hers. And Quinn's eyes were the most striking set of green he'd ever seen.
"So... music, what's your favourite band? I mean, everyone has a favourite band, right?"
"Wrong," she smiles, shaking her head gently. "Music hasn't really been at the top of my list." Near the bottom actually, she though ruefully.
"You're can't be serious. I thought... I always thought that you know... cops..."
"I'm not exactly the kind of cop who sits around eating donuts every night."
"No, no, that's not what I meant. Even Seeley Booth, FBI agent extraordinaire, had decent taste in music."
"Seeley Booth? I don't think I know him," she replies, a feeling of dread building in her gut. The lies were perturbing for her. She hated the FBI with a burning passion.
"You're kidding, so you don't watch TV shows either? The Big Bang Theory? Bones?"
"I don't know what that means."
"Okay, wow. You sure about that? I mean, that was a total Bones moment right there."
"I'm assuming that Bones is a television show."
"Yes, it is. You're just like Temperence Brennan, the clueless, socially awkward anthropologist who solves grisly crimes with Seeley Booth – handsome, charming, suave and a highly respected FBI agent," he clears his throat, gesturing cheekily to himself. "Except, you know... the occupations are reversed."
"I may be clueless about today's modern culture, but I hardly think I'm socially awkward."
"Says the woman who punched a man in the nose for hitting on her," he teases, giving her a heart-stopping grin.
She shrugs nonchalantly, ignoring the deafening drumming of her heartbeat. "He was being obnoxious and I'm violent when I'm intoxicated."
He glanced down at the empty coffee cups that decorated the side table, clenching his own in his palm. "Thank God this isn't alcohol then."
She erupts in a grin, putting her hands up in surrender. "Fine, I do have one favourite song. Creature Fear by Bon Iver," she nodded absently, wringing her hands slightly, worried that it wasn't something of his taste. She frowns inwardly. Why the hell would it matter if it didn't suit his taste?
"Indie, I love it." She felt the world around her inflate with relief.
"I've always found it to be such an auditory aphrodisiac," he pauses with a faraway look upon his face, unfazed by the awkwardness he had just created around them. If he had noticed the thick tension building, he gave no indication whatsoever. "That, and Arcade Fire's first album."
"I've never heard of them..." She spoke tentatively, the atmosphere ensnarling her in its choking grasp. She wasn't even sure why they had steered to the topic of auditory aphrodisiacs. She didn't like it, attracted to him or not.
"I'll show it to you sometime," he spoke lightly, in a completely I'm-not-flirting-with-you tone. Yet, her cheeks burned a bright red and the deep bass of her heartbeat rang in her ears. And the butterflies. God, the butterflies. They attacked her stomach without mercy. This feeling, she hesitantly accepted.
"I'd like that." Stunned by the honestly in the statement, she lets her eyes linger on his for a moment.
"Yeah? I think I could convince Beckman to spring for a stereo in here," he surveys the room with wide, determined eyes as she looks on with amusement. The room was large, in her opinion, with the bare necessities stocked up around the private room. The bathroom situated at the corner hardly took up any space, and whatever space her bed did not occupy, a comfortable set of chairs took up – one of which he was seated upon.
She regards him with playful, teasing eyes. "Or you could simply bring an iPod for me, you know?"
"Ah, yes, I could. But you wouldn't be able to call it your own! Where's the fun in that? Besides, you might probably decide to keep it after you get a taste of my brilliant music taste."
"Touché, Mr Bartowski."
They grin at each other for another few moments, before they're interrupted by the squeaky hinges of the opening door.
"I'll get Casey to oil those," he says suddenly, causing her to break out in a grin, when Shaw steps into the room, his lips pressed into his typical grim line. The perpetual frown on his face grew, if it were possible, when he finally acknowledged that the room was occupied by an extra person.
"Dr. Bartowski, may I speak to you for a moment, please?" His tone cold, eyes narrowed dangerously.
With a sigh and an inconspicuous roll of his eyes, Chuck stood up from the plastic chair, giving her a polite nod and smile before he followed the larger man out the door. He folded his arms, narrowed his eyes and simply stared as Shaw did the same.
"I'm telling you now. Stay away from her," the other man snarled before he pushed through the door, leaving Chuck no room for a reply.
West Side Hospital – Cafeteria
18th November
7:47PM
Turkey. Muenster. Eggbread. Grilled.
A delicacy that sat neatly stacked and fresh out of the oven, in his outstretched palm as its mouth-watering aroma filled his nostrils – caressing them with a tender and welcoming hand, causing an unflattering stream of drool to dribble from his lips. He closed his eyes, revelling in its heavenly smell.
The smell of it was intoxicating – as heavenly as a freshly brewed cup of coffee, or the scent of a steaming plate of pancakes in the morning – yet it carried its very own aroma, it's very own brand of perfume that celebrities could only wish they had designed.
He brought the sandwich closer toward his mouth, awaiting the colourful burst of flavour that normally tickled his palette. As he sunk his teeth into the soft bun, through the layers of turkey and succulent cheese, the stream of drool that travelled from the corner of his lip to the base of his chin thickened.
"Enjoying your sandwich there, I see?"
His eyes snapped open, coming into contact with the bearded face of Morgan Grimes, who stretched his body across the table, leaning toward his sandwich. He grunted in surprise, frowning deeply before shoving the other man back into his own chair. He growled, putting the sandwich back into its brown paper bag, using a hand to clench its opening protectively, as though someone were reaching out to swipe it from him.
"What do you want, Grimes?" He spat, folding his arms and leaning back into his chair.
"Well, you heard about Chuck, Daniel and that smoking hot patient that they're fighting over, right?"
Shaw? Bartowski? Fighting over Walker?
He narrowed his eyes, piercing the shorter man with a menacing glare. "What the hell are you blabbering about?"
"You gotta be kidding me, John. You're the head of security and you don't know? Okay, Chuck told me that Daniel threatened him. Told him to stay away from the girl that Chuck rescued. I mean, come on, who does that?"
"All's fair in love and war, Morgan," a sly voice answered as the dynamic duo of Jeff and Lester seated themselves next to Casey, depositing their trays of food on the tabletop. "Dr Shaw has every right to fight for Chuck's lady friend."
"Maybe so, but would it kill the guy to realize that she's already punched him in the face and rejected him?"
Jeff shrugged, stuffing a Subway footlong into his mouth, whilst attempting to speak. "I once chased a fair damsel, even after she threw her shoe at me and slapped me... twice. It was worth it."
Morgan merely stared in disbelief. "Moving on," he spoke slowly, still keeping a tentative eye on Jeff. "Chuck's my best pal, and if Daniel wants to mess with him, he's going to have to go through me. Who's with me?"
"You'll be pulverized within minutes – the guy's an anaesthetist! He's practically Superman."
"How in the world does anaesthetist translate to Superman?"
"Obviously, my good man," Lester stated with a cool, calculated smirk. "He'll overpower you, leave you in a deep sleep, then he'll beat you up. Since Superman is fairly righteous and does not kill innoce– Oh my god, that isn't the Chuck sandwich, is it?"
Casey's eyes widened, his jaw already moving to grind the revered sandwich in his hands. In a split second, the sandwich was back in its paper bag, a hand clamped protectively on the body of the bread itself. "Go get your own, Patel," he glared when Lester's eyes drifted hungrily over the brown bag.
"She ran out of muenster and eggbread," he whimpered as Casey brought the sandwich out of its bag again, slowly and deliberately taking a bite out of it. Then, eyeing the canteen, he zero-ed in on the sandwich deli shop that occupied a permanent place in the hospital canteen. His eyes nearly watered as the black board read, Chuck Bartowski sandwich SOLD OUT.
"A Chuck isn't a Chuck without the cheese."
Morgan jumped out of his chair, eyeing his companions with a gleam in his eye. "Guys, if you help me help Chuck with Daniel, I will treat you to the Chuck sandwich for the rest of the month. I'll even bribe Lou to set aside the sandwiches first, so that they're fresh and available."
"I don't know, Morgan. What makes you think Lou will accept your bribe?" Lester picked at his nails.
He held up his hands in reassurance. "If she won't, I'll just tell Chuck to ask her then. After all, the whole reason why said wonderful sandwich exists is because of our boy, Chuck. Dude saved her life when she was involved in an accident. Surgery was required, and if you don't mind me, gentlemen, I'd rather skip out on all the gory details."
"No, we'd like to hear all the gory details, actually," Lester leaned closer against the table, turning to Jeff with a smirk. "Wouldn't you, Jeffrey?"
"I would," Jeff grinned, an image that nearly put nightmares in Casey's head.
"What," Casey growled. "Exactly are you planning to do to Shaw, Grimes?"
Morgan shrugged, looking thoughtfully at the ceiling. "I was thinking of maybe getting in contact with the... Bartowski-Lover, and possibly changing that name to Shaw-Lover."
A collective gasp passed through the table, save for Casey, as Jeff and Lester scrambled to lean forward, listening attentively. "You know who the Bartowski-Lover is? She's been Chuck's most elusive secret admirer for all this while, and you've known her identity the whole time?"
"Indeed," Morgan nodded smugly. "I'll never tell you two who she is, though. You have enough restraining orders against yourselves – Ow! Ah! What the heck are you doing, Casey?"
With Morgan's collar in his fist, Casey dragged the man-boy away from the table, stopping only to discard the remains of the paper bag. Closing the door to the bathroom, he cornered him with a pose that spelled deadly consequences if escapes were attempted.
"I've been after Bartowski's stalker for months. Tell me who she is."
"No," Morgan said, bravely, if not a little hesitant.
"You either tell me, or I rip every last strand of hair from your beard."
"You can't break me, fool!"
A muffled cry of pain later, Casey removed his knee from the other man's groin, grinning evilly when the bearded man sucked in a breath.
"It was his sister, okay? Damn it, John. If you make me a eunuch, I will never forgive you."
"His sister? Why would his sister leave lovey-dovey post-its on her brother's table?"
"Look, I wasn't supposed to tell anyone, but after his breakup with Jill, Chuck's been pretty down in the dumps. He doesn't show it, but he's never gotten over her."
"Didn't the nerd get dumped years ago?"
"Five years, to be exact, yes. Which was why he left the previous training hospital to join this one. But anyway, that's not the point. Ellie approached me with her plan, and we've been carrying it out daily, every morning before Chuck reaches his department."
"So, you're planning on doing this to Daniel Shaw," Casey furrowed his brow skeptically.
"Precisely."
"And this would help Bartowski in exactly what way?"
"It would irritate Daniel, in addition to showing the damsel what a 'player' he is, and in turn, she would never consider dating him."
Casey let out an annoyed sigh, obviously unconvinced of Morgan's 'plan'. "Whatever. One complain and this stops, is that clear?"
"Yes, sir."
"Good," Casey grinned viciously, patting–slapping– Morgan on the face as he stepped away from the bearded man.
With that, Casey exited the bathroom, moving toward the private room of one Sarah Walker, passing the same lunch table with disgust as Morgan rejoined the two, still seated there. His ears rang painfully as he heard his name in the same sentence as "sexual rendezvous" and "possible rape".
Knocking softly on Sarah's door, he stepped in, ignoring the ever-present Daniel Shaw who stood at the foot of her bed. He raised a brow as he noted the busted lip and black eye that had somehow sprouted overnight. "I'd like a word with Walker, Agent Shaw."
"Be my guest, Casey," he said as he stepped out of the room. Casey crinkled his brow in amusement as he heard Shaw mumble under his breath, "Maybe she'll actually converse with you."
"Walker," he greeted respectfully to the sulking woman resting on the bed.
"God, I hate him."
He grinned. "Just because he's your ex-boyfriend, doesn't mean he's an incompetent doctor and agent, Walker. He's just following Beckman's orders."
"That doesn't mean I have to play nice."
"How did you two break up again?"
"When I found him getting it on with my cleaning lady."
Sucking in a breath, hoping that no laughter escaped his throat, Casey folded his arms over his chest, allowing a wide grin to stretch across his face. "Didn't really need to hear that, but do you want me to punch him for you?"
"Yes, please."
His smile grew ferociously menacing as he contemplated dipping Shaw in the pot of steaming water that was Sarah Walker. He meant that in a non-sexual way, of course. "You could punch him yourself. He's been telling Chuck to stay away from you."
"Wow, I'm gone for five minutes and Walker has a new boytoy?" a familiar voice purred from the door as the slender, statuesque figure sauntered into the room, eliciting a grunt of disapproval from Casey and a wide, shining smile from Sarah. "I'm sorry about Fernandez, by the way."
"It's alright, Carina. How'd you get out of the CIA's clutches?"
Carina grinned slyly, moving to sit next to her on the bed, crossing her legs and grabbing her friend's hand in hers. She smiled up at Casey, batting her eyelashes seductively. "Hello, Johnny, fancy seeing you here. Didn't you retire prematurely or something?"
Casey grunted, waving her off as he exited the room.
"He's a happy person," Carina commented, giving her friend's hand a squeeze. "They just let me go," she shrugged nonchalantly.
"Just like that?" Sarah replied, skepticism written all over her face.
"Just like that."
"Carina, what did you do?"
"Oh, just... a little thing I learnt from my days in training, you know? I think it's called... seduction. But enough about me, Walker! What's this I hear about this Chuck guy?"
"He saved me," Sarah smiled, cursing when her cheeks began to burn a bright, tinted red. "He's the doctor that found me in the parking lot. I think Beckman filled you in on that."
"So is he cute? Is he an agent too? Have you tapped that yet?"
"What? No!"
"No, he's not cute? No, he's not an agent? No, you haven't tapped that but you really, really want to? Spit it out, Walker."
Squirming uncomfortably in her spot, Sarah glared at her friend as Carina relished in her blatant questions, an expression of obvious delight on her face. "Will you quit it? There's nothing going on between us!"
"Sure," the redhead grinned, folding her arms. "So why is he walking this way right now, obviously clueless of my presence and the fact that Daniel's your physician?"
Filler chapter, I know. ): So was theprincess1511 lying? ):
