Chuck Versus Thin Ice
By Steampunk . Chuckster
Summary: On the doorstep of the Olympics, top American curler Sarah Walker has lost her mixed doubles partner and her boyfriend in one fell swoop. Her coaches throw newbie Team U.S.A. curler Chuck Bartowski onto her team and thrust them into the Olympics, hanging America's curling hopes on two people who only have a short amount of time to learn to trust one another.
A/N: Just a side note. On top of the amazingly generous reviews you've all been sending this story's way, the super cool Barbadiangirl literally made the pissed-off-girlfriend Lawker Bartowsker meme from that last chapter and posted it on Twitter. I had to be tagged because she didn't even do it FOR ME. She just did it for the story. And the meta levels were just threw the roof and I almost died. I thought I might legit die. I couldn't breathe. You can find it on my Tumblr. I'm still dying about it. I feel like I've finally made it as a fanfic author now. Truly. Just . . . W.O.W.
Oh shit by the way I found another chapter! Here you guys go!
Disclaimer: I don't own this show. I don't own the characters in this show.
He could see her disappointment in the slump of her shoulders, even as she smiled through her second interview that day, after their second loss that day. She laughed with Joe Samson, the reporter sent by ESPN. She joked about her mom having always thought curling was a boring sport, but then she'd called the other day and told her that she'd turned it on in the morning and the next time she looked up, she'd actually had it on all day and had been totally transfixed by it.
She was so good at it, doing these impromptu interviews, giving personality and little anecdotes, not letting her true emotions show through. And he let her take point, only talking when he was spoken to, playing off of her mood with a big smile of his own.
How this woman was given the title "Ice Queen", and the mostly non-curling reasoning behind it, he sincerely didn't understand.
Chuck wasn't self-important enough to think he was the only one to see the slump of her shoulders, though. He knew their coaches and their teammates saw it. But everyone congratulated them, patted them on the back in the U.S.A. building's lobby before heading out for team bonding—which meant drinks, he knew.
They'd been invited, even with Beckman and Graham's consent, but he and Sarah had wordlessly agreed they'd rather not be out too late, especially not to drink. Even if it might get their minds off of the dismal record they were currently posting.
Two wins and three losses.
So dismal.
Though he supposed no wins would be worse, he really felt this last loss in his gut.
It was a loss to Canada's top mixed doubles team. He shouldn't be this disappointed, when they'd really only lost five points to eight. And he'd thought it would be a blow-out.
Chuck held the door open for Sarah and let her walk into their apartment first. He followed and shut the door behind him, just standing there for a bit and watching as she slowly unwrapped herself from the multiple layers she'd put on after their match.
"Everybody said we played well," she finally said, stopping and turning to face him. "And I know we played well. I know we did. We should've lost by way more, and we would've if it weren't for your shot that got us a steal of three in the sixth End. I'm just…I don't know why, I just feel like we should've won. I was ready to win it."
He nodded. "We're on the same page."
"Aren't we always?" She looked over her shoulder at him with a smile as she hung her damp snow jacket in the closet. She reached out towards him and he took her meaning, unzipping himself and shrugging his own jacket off, handing it to her.
"Yeah," he said. "Thanks."
"Sure." She sighed, hanging his jacket up and shutting the closet. "This just sucks."
"I think I honestly had this Made-For-TV-Disney-Sports-Movie plot twist stuck in my head tonight. Like, we deserved a win, because we're the good guys, and somehow we'd just pull off this miracle upset against the best team in the tournament." He chuckled at himself and shook his head. "Ridiculous, I know. But it's how my mind works sometimes. I'm a bit of an idealist."
"Are you?" She smiled slowly. "I didn't know that. But it makes sense."
He snorted. "Because I'm a video game playing, fantasy loving, stargazing nerd?"
She just shook her head but didn't clarify, still smiling at him.
Chuck tugged his boots off and unwrapped his scarf, his mind going a mile a minute. He'd had his own idea of how this tournament was going to go. It was childish and silly, he knew. It was unrealistic. But he saw people changing their minds about the their mixed doubles team…about him. The nasty tweets and the sharing of his crash video would morph into high praise about his skill on the ice, about his physics-driven play, his impressive brain. Sarah would be the hero of the Olympics. She'd see him as the perfect partner. They'd just click so seamlessly that they'd win every match and end up with gold medals. It was a pipe-dream, an endgame he kept locked up tight in his heart. It was something that only happened in the movies.
But he was disappointed anyway and he felt foolish.
"I'm sorry this isn't panning out the way we both wanted it to," he said finally as they both shuffled away from the door and further into the apartment.
She sent him a look, her brow furrowed and lips pursed. "You know, it isn't all that terrible, Chuck."
"No, I know. I mean, we won both of our matches yesterday. It's not like we're zero for five or something. I'm just…" He sighed. "I'm bummed still, ya know? I wanted to be able to do better. For the team. For us. For you."
"Hey, remember what we talked about…" She sent him a warning look.
"For me, too. Obviously. I wanted this to go better for me, too. I'm kind of sick of the negative tweets about me. A friend of mine from my LA club emailed something to me this morning…last night…? I don't know, the time difference is all crazy in my head. But it was a blog post about how disappointing it is to see Bryce as just a commentator instead of him being out on the ice with you. And when is Chuck Bartowski going to show he was worth the hype the association put into him? Blaaaah blah blahblah blaaah!" He grumbled and frowned deeply.
"Chuck, people are going to have opinions. A lot of them are going to have stupid opinions. They'll be utterly wrong. Completely shallow and petty. Do you really think the woman who wrote that blog post knows a damn thing about curling?" Sarah asked, stepping in front of him to force him to stop walking and putting her hands on her hips. "Do you think she's ever even stepped onto the ice, held a broom, seen a curling stone up close?"
"Well, she—Wait, how'd you know it's a woman?"
"Lacey Whoever-The-Hell. She writes sports blog stuff and isn't affiliated with any actual news source, but somehow people still read her shit and spread it around like it's the Lord's gospel." She huffed. "My mom emailed me that same post this morning, Chuck. I told her to never send me that hack's shit again—in nicer words—and then promptly sent it to my trash. It's a bunch of second hand shit with her opinions stuffed into it. And then she goes off on these sanctimonious diatribes about people not taking women in sports media seriously, which is true, but bitch, you aren't real media with your improperly sourced bullshit opinion pieces. Go to journalism school."
Chuck blinked.
"I—Um, I looked into her site when my mom sent me that. Just to make sure I could drag her and have the receipts for it." She crossed her arms and made a grumpy face, looking a tad bit uncomfortable with how much she'd just revealed. She'd revealed enough, he thought to himself. Like the fact that she'd gotten a bit protective of him maybe and torched the woman who wrote those things about him in particular? He tried not to preen.
Sarah sighed and put her hands on his shoulders, looking up at him with those eyes of hers. He swore, in this lamplight, they looked the color of the sky when the sun had just finished setting, flecks of yellow amidst the deepest blue… Oh, she was talking.
"—and I need you to understand that."
He swallowed thickly. "I-I'm sorry. I'll be completely honest with you, I didn't catch that. Your eyes are super pretty up close. I know; it's kinda stupid because I've seen them up close plenty of times. It just…struck me again, right at this moment. Can you, uh, can you repeat?"
She shook her head a little, and then her hands were cupping his face and her lips were pressed against his. He immediately curled his arms around her and pulled her in closer, cradling her, kissing her back. And when she finally broke the kiss, she dove in to hug him tightly, her face pressed into his neck. "Sometimes I don't even get how you're real."
When Sarah stepped back, she slipped a hand over his neck and rubbed gently.
"Trust me, I am. Did you see that shit I pulled with the loose handle today?"
She rolled her eyes, and with a good-natured glint in her eyes, she said, "Good point."
That made him laugh.
"Chuck, stop paying attention to all of that crap. It means nothing."
"I can't help it," he half-whined, letting his head fall back and looking up at the ceiling. "I hate it when people don't like me," he added, lowering his head to look at her again. "I like to be liked. I care about how people perceive me. It gets under my skin. It always has."
She tilted her head, just looking at him for a long moment. And then she made her lips into a bit of a pout. "That's kinda cute." She sighed. "But you need to understand—and this is what I was saying before you said that beautiful stuff about my eyes—the people out there who are oh-so-bravely announcing their opinions about you, comparing you to Bryce, talking crap on you…Lacey Assface, included…None of those people are here. None of them were with Bryce and I when we were doing three bonspiels a month in the height of our partnership. None of them really know what happens on the actual ice during matches, let alone what happens behind doors."
"Well, we made the joint decision not to let anyone know we're having the sex," he teased and he got the desired effect: a short, adorable little snort.
"Having?" she asked, lifting an eyebrow flirtatiously. "Just assuming this is something that's gonna continue to happen, aren't you?" Chuck knew she was teasing him back, flirting with him, but he still didn't know how to respond. She winked and he knew beyond a doubt that what happened last night and this morning, would in fact continue to happen.
Sarah dropped the act and sighed, reaching up to fix the hood of his sweatshirt. "Do you wanna know what Bryce would do if we lost? Even when our relationship was, for all intents and purposes, in a pretty good place."
"What would he do?"
"He wouldn't talk to me for over an hour after the match. He got all broody and pissy. I thought it was cute the first few times, but it got annoying really fast." She pulled her lips to the side and arched her eyebrows. "And during a match, I'd disagree with him about where to hit the opponent's rock. Instead of listening or talking it out, he'd just ignore me completely and do it his own way. Sometimes he was right, but sometimes he was wrong. Anytime I'd tell him to go harder, he'd ignore me…" She started playing with the zipper of his sweatshirt then, slowly easing it down. "I don't seem to have that problem with you." When her eyes flicked up to his, he felt the heat immediately. Was she still talking about curling? Was that the point? Was this going where he suddenly hoped it was going?
"I trust you know what you want," he said slowly.
He saw her swallow, and then her fingers dragged down his chest, past his abdomen, and latched onto his belt buckle. She tugged at the strap meticulously and he found it difficult to breathe suddenly.
"I do." She paused then, and he saw a tinge of pink rise to her cheeks. She lifted an eyebrow and diverted her gaze. "And this isn't something I particularly want anyone out there to know but…" She let out a long breath. "Last night was the first time I've ever had someone go down on me. So that's a piece of information these armchair curling experts are missing when they talk shit on you in comparison to Bryce."
Chuck Bartowski felt every last drop of blood in his body rush to the spot between his legs and he didn't even think to check to see if anything was behind him before he teetered back. Luckily, he found himself sitting on the back of the couch instead of on the floor with a massive bruise on his backside. "Uh…" he squeaked.
Sarah seemed rather pleased with herself as she stepped up to him and leaned down to continue working on his belt. She got it unbuckled and very carefully, slowly, pulled it out of the loops, letting it drop to the floor then with a loud thud.
"None of these people matter. None of them are competing in this tournament, on this team. I am. I was there, dealing with an insubordinate teammate, an average boyfriend in every aspect of our relationship. And I'm here now, with a partner who communicates with me, who sets me at ease, who apologizes when he makes a mistake. And is forgiving and understanding when I make one." She popped the button of his pants and then eased the zipper down. Chuck glanced down quickly and thought he'd die when her hand then tucked inside. He forced himself to look back up at her face, knowing he probably looked ridiculous, but holy crap. Holy crap. "I don't think I have to say the next part. Instead, I can probably just show you. What do you think?"
"Yes. Definitely. Absolutely. Immediately."
She beamed and giggled, pulling her hand out of his pants.
Chuck stood and grabbed her by her hips, hoisting her up as she leapt into his arms, her legs wrapped around his waist.
They both laughed as he walked them into the bedroom, reaching back with a foot to slam that door shut and going straight for the closest bed.
-oooo-
Sarah woke up to the sounds of measured breathing and grunting. She frowned a little in confusion as she blinked her eyes open, pushing herself to sit up in bed.
She could still hear it.
Peering around the room, she saw that she was alone. Chuck wasn't in his bed, where he'd finally moved last night after a few hours of playing around in her bed.
She finally swung her legs out of bed and stood up, stretching her arms over her head, yawning. It was freezing. Too freezing for her feet to be bare, so she stepped into her slippers and shrugged on her Team U.S.A. training jacket. She wrapped it tight around her body as she shuffled out of the bedroom and immediately found Chuck on the ground doing sit-ups.
He stopped as he caught sight of her, flopping down onto his back first and then pushing himself to sit, smiling breathlessly. "Hey," he panted. "Morning."
"Good morning. Getting a workout in before I even wake up, huh? I'm impressed." She smoothed a hand down her hair, a bit vainly. After all, in spite of living together for the past few months, she didn't need him to see Morning Sarah at her worst. She blinked sleep away even more and yawned again.
"Wanna join me?"
"Down there? Nah." She giggled with her tongue between her teeth and walked further into the room. "Actually, I was thinking of getting the rest of the girls down to the gym early this morning."
"Ahhhh, a gym sesh that I'm not invited to, huh?"
"Not this time, partner. I mean, not that I don't like you, but I need some girl time." She walked over and ruffled his hair to let him know she was teasing. But as she tried to walk around him towards the coffee table where she'd left her phone the night before, Chuck reached up and grabbed her hand, holding fast.
"Hey…"
"Hey, what?" She looked down at him and decided he looked pretty cute down there, his shirt all wrinkled and his hair a mess, a little out of breath still from the sit-ups.
"We're gonna win today," he said, and she was a little surprised. She didn't know what she'd expected him to say, but it wasn't that. "I can feel it. I-I mean I woke up with this certain feeling…in my chest."
"Has Becks passed that weird tingle of hers onto you?" she asked.
He laughed. "Maybe she has. I just know what I feel. We've got this."
Sarah grinned and lowered herself down to her knees next to him. "Teasing aside, Chuck, I feel something like that, too. My confidence is peaking."
"So is mine," he said. "I know we're just young Americans in a world of more experienced, older curlers from places where curling is actually super popular," she snorted at that, "but I think we can do this."
"We can."
"Also, can I have a kiss? Because that's usually really good for my confidence, as well."
She giggled, overwhelmed by how adorable this man was, and she leaned in and gave him a long kiss.
Fifteen minutes later, she was in the gym with Anna, Jane, and Lou. They broke off into pairs, Jane with Sarah, Anna with Lou. Jane was lying at an angle on one of the machines, her head dangling. Sarah stood above her, catching the weight ball every time Jane sat up and tossed it to her.
"So what I want to know is this," Lou said, standing next to Sarah and doing the same for Anna. "Could kimchi go on a sandwich?"
"Why are you always talking about food?" Anna groaned between sit-ups.
"Because food is amazing. Oh, and I also own a sandwich shop."
"Good point on both counts," Sarah said. "That's twenty, Jane."
"Ah shit, I have to do twenty more of these?" her partner whined.
"Yes. Because I had to." Sarah turned to Lou as Jane continued her sit-ups. "I think kimchi would be good on a sandwich. Like, imagine it on a pork slider or something."
Lou groaned. "Oh my God, I like the way you think, Walker. I might bring some of Korea home with me and put that on the menu. Wait, like a piece of pork or—"
"Mm mm, nope. Pulled pork," Jane said.
"Agree. Pulled pork," Anna added. "Ugh, screw all of you. I'm so hungry now."
"Kimchi on a Reuben!" the sandwich girl said, catching the ball squarely and just holding it as Anna finished her forty sit-ups.
Sarah's stomach grumbled as she held her ball under her armpit and used her free hand to help Jane clamber off of the machine safely.
The foursome had the women's team event right after the mixed doubles event ended and Beckman, especially, was going pretty hard on them with needing to get to a place where they were "chummy", was her word.
Lou was a newcomer, having been pulled in from Duluth, Minnesota last minute from a team that got on Graham's radar after winning a few national bonspiels. But the good thing was that Sarah was their skip, Jane their third, Anna their second, and Lou was tacked on as the lead shooter. As lead shooter, Lou placed guards and draws and set-up the strategy, but the throws after that were the majorly important ones. Not that she was unimportant, but her not being on the team for as long as the other women wouldn't have much of a negative effect.
And now they had to make an effort to pull her into their clique, so to speak.
It wasn't so hard, Sarah found. She was nice, outgoing, liked talking about food and motorbiking and how much she hated her ex-boyfriend. That was something Sarah could use to relate to her, for sure. Granted, the guy sounded like he might be part of some sort of criminal smuggling ring, so…that was a little unsettling.
Anna's phone beeped then and she walked over to grab it. With an "ugh" she let it fall back onto her jacket.
"What?" Sarah asked, drying the sweat on her neck and face with a towel and leaving it hanging over her shoulder.
"I'm tired of Tyler's stupid 'what are you doing tonight' texts. He needs to lay the hell off."
Sarah widened her eyes at the other women. "I…didn't know that was a thing."
"It isn't," the woman said through clenched teeth, pointing threateningly.
"Okay," she chuckled, holding her hands up in surrender.
"I've gotten them, too," Jane said offhandedly. "It's just what he does."
"What I wanna know is does Chuck ever do stuff like that?"
Sarah quickly looked up at Lou, taking in the smirk on the petite woman's face. It wasn't difficult to read. "No," she said. "He doesn't."
She secretly eyed the woman a bit harder then as she saw the cranks turning in her head. "He seems like a pretty nice guy."
"Who, Chuck?" Anna asked. She shrugged. "He's fine, I guess."
"What?" Lou laughed. "In this sport, guys under forty who aren't build like sub sandwiches are seriously rare. Chuck can get it. All tall and goofy with that hair."
Sarah kept quiet, busying herself by picking up her phone and pretending she was doing something important on it.
"I mean, back me up, Sarah. You're his teammate in the mixed doubles event. Like, aren't you two living together or something? Wait, you kids aren't together are you? I don't wanna—"
"No." Sarah looked up from her phone and shook her head. "No, we aren't. We're friends. Partners."
"Oh." Lou shrugged. "Don't wanna be a home wrecker."
"Why?" Jane asked, then, and Sarah saw a hint of a frown on her face. "You thinking of moving in on him or something?"
The team's lead just shrugged. "I dunno. I might. We're both the new kids on the U.S. Olympic curling team, yeah? We have that in common. He seemed kind of open and welcoming yesterday when I bumped into him in the lobby."
"He's like that with everybody," Anna said. "A big ol' boy scout."
Sarah silently reminded herself over and over and over again that Lou Palone had made clear that she was interested in Chuck only if he wasn't already attached. She didn't know there was…something…between him and Sarah. How would she know that? She and Chuck made a pact not to tell anyone, even their family. Coach Beckman didn't even know. Jane didn't know. Ellie didn't even know and she was Chuck's sister.
This was no time for jealousy. Lou was a teammate. She's my teammate. She's my teammate. She's my teammate.
"Well, don't."
Sarah's head snapped up and she stared at Jane with wide eyes.
"That boy has mixed doubles he needs to focus on. No distractions. And if you're on our team, we don't want any distractions here, either."
Lou made a bit of a face. "Oh. Sorry. No, that makes sense. I just…I dunno, getting to know him better wouldn't be that much of a distraction, right? He just seems really nice."
He was nice. The nicest. But he also wasn't available. And damn it, Sarah couldn't make that known.
"I'm not trying to bite your head off, Lou. I just think intra-office dating isn't going to go well." Jane paused for a second, and then gestured to Sarah. "Look what happened when Sarah was dating Bryce, for God's sake."
"Hey!" Sarah snapped, glaring half-heartedly.
"Sorry. Hate to throw you under the bus but…Am I wrong?"
She just pouted a bit. "No."
"Ruined the entire team dynamic and almost fucked up all of our Olympics. Not that it's your fault, Sar."
Sarah just continued pointing a bit, but she couldn't be too miffed, since Jane was unknowingly doing her a huge solid here.
"Oh, shit. Good point. I promise I'll be good. Scout's honor. But, um…after the events, fair game right?"
No one answered her as they all headed for the machines, but as Sarah climbed onto the elliptical, she couldn't stop the feeling of that dark cloud—that green-eyed monster cloud—in her chest. It wasn't fair. It was silly, even. But Lou was cute. She was nice. She owned her own deli in Duluth. She was cool, too. She rode around on motorbikes and even talked about her "fencing instructor" which meant she knew how to fight with a sword. And what comic-book loving, video game playing, fantasy nerd wouldn't be interested in that? It would be a lot less problematic for Chuck if he dated a girl like Lou. Sarah had baggage, more baggage than just Bryce and her semi-fame in the curling world. She'd only reconnected with her mom a year ago, and her dad…who even knew where he was or what trouble he was in? Did she want to know? Did she even care? …Yes. She did. And that was part of what made the baggage so heavy.
It wasn't the time to dwell on any of that though because as nice and polite and open as Chuck probably was with Lou the other day—whatever it was she was referring to—Sarah knew he wasn't nearly as attentive as he'd been to her in the last eight weeks, not even counting the last two nights in which neither of them got much sleep. It got to the point last night that he had to put physical distance between them and go to his own bed to force them to sleep.
This whole extra something that was going on between her and Chuck, this behind-closed-doors physical intimacy, was too good to do anything but just enjoy, protect, and preserve. It felt amazing. And even just in a physical sense, she felt so energized and weightless and loose.
Not to mention, sleeping with Chuck had been a huge boost to her confidence. The two losses yesterday had taken a chunk out of that confidence, in spite of how well they'd both performed. But then he'd taken her to bed again and it was so freaking fun. Pure enjoyment. It was so different from anything she'd ever experienced before. Giggling and laughing and teasing during sex…He was equal parts goofy and sexy and she didn't even know how to deal with that. It made her so much more open, mischievous, and relaxed. Not physically relaxed, as much as she was emotionally and mentally relaxed.
She didn't have to hold back, either. He wordlessly made her feel like it was okay for her to continue doing things that made her feel insanely good, to ask for things…or, rather, to beg…the few times it got that far. She noticed how much he paid attention to her cues, how he listened to her encouragement and kept doing the things she was particularly vocal during.
The confidence came from just how much she could feel Chuck Bartowski wanted her. And, she had to admit as she unconsciously moved even faster on the elliptical, the way he didn't hold back when they were together. He made it more than clear how good she made him feel, and there wasn't even an ounce of shame in him about it. It was the most gratifying thing. She was surprised her ego hadn't exploded by now thanks to the sounds she got out of him. Or how eagerly he'd tell her when he liked something, how pure and adorable and sexy he was when he gave her words of encouragement…
"Sarah!"
She stopped suddenly, her legs winding down a bit, huffing and puffing as she pulled her earbuds out of her ears and looked over at Anna. She was staring with wide eyes, her jaw slack.
"What?" she panted.
"Girl, you're going a little insane on that elliptical. Thought you were gonna lift off into fuckin' space, like a blonde curling-master version of Sally Ride. You have two matches today. Do you want to still be able to use your legs for that or no?"
"Oh." She laughed breathlessly, pulling back and turning off the machine altogether. "Donna Summer gets me pumped, I guess." She twirled her earbud teasingly. "Actually, ladies, I think I'm gonna call it. I need to eat and shower and rest for a bit before the match."
They all said their good lucks and Lou got in one last teasing, "Tell Chuck I said hi!" before Sarah finally got out of the gym and trekked to the building with the dining hall. She allowed herself some grumbling along the way. Anyone who saw her might think she was grumbling at the snow that seemed to be pretty consistent on and off since they'd arrived in PyeongChang a few days earlier. But no, most of it was about her current more-than-partnership thing with her mixed doubles teammate and roommate, and how the bullshit drama with Bryce made it that much harder for her to just not worry about whether people knew about her and Chuck. And now with the added wrench of Lou obviously being interested in Chuck, and staying interested because she didn't know he was involved with Sarah. She couldn't know. Nobody could know. It would screw everything up.
God, she could just imagine the stupid headlines about their "affair" and the assumptions people would make about her. That she couldn't be on a team with a man and not jump into his pants.
But it wasn't like that at all.
It wasn't like anything she'd ever experienced before.
Now she had Lou in her head, though. She was really freaking nice. She wanted to be friends. But if the deli-owner continued to pursue Chuck in spite of Jane's surprisingly intense attempt to throw her off the scent, so to speak, Sarah didn't know how she would deal with it. She'd have to tell Chuck about it and look ridiculous, wouldn't she? Listen, she wants to date you and I need you to just tell her flat-out that you're not interested. Kay, thanks.
Sarah rolled her eyes at herself as she walked into the dining hall, yanking her gloves off and hanging them over her shoulder as she went straight for the coffee. God, the coffee here was good, too. She got a latte and a muffin, then headed over to order a massive omelet with everything but the kitchen sink in it.
Just as she was about to pick up her tray, pay, and find a spot to sit, Chuck sidled up next to her at the counter and nabbed an orange juice. "Hey! Perfect timing. I've got your breakfast."
She just barely contained her grin at seeing him so suddenly when she hadn't been expecting it. "Uh, w-what? Hi. What do you mean, you've got my breakfast? I've got it."
"Nah. You paid for my dinner last night."
"Yeah, because I went and got us take-out so that we could eat in the apartment. It's not a big deal."
"No, I know. That's why I'm buying your breakfast." They got up to the register and Chuck gestured to his tray and hers. "All of this, please."
She rolled her eyes at him and let him pay, then she followed him over to a table that was a bit more isolated.
It wasn't until they sat down across from each other at the small two person table that she realized he only had a bowl of oatmeal and orange juice. She gawked long enough that he must have noticed.
"Oh. Yeah, I'm um…not hungry really. Kind of nervous. You left me in our apartment by myself for way too long and I had a lot of really bad thoughts and then I went onto Twitter which was a terrible idea, just terrible, and now I've got a lot of pent up nervous energy and all I can really eat is this porridge shit."
Sarah blinked. "Wow. Uh…"
"I'm not serious about you leaving me alone for too long, obviously. I'm not a child or…that needy. But I am nervous. And I did look at Twitter." He huffed and hung his head. "I'm ashamed."
"Chuck, why the hell do you keep doing this to yourself?"
"I don't know. I'm starting to think maybe I'm a masochist."
She couldn't help but giggle at that, shaking her head. She knew she couldn't touch him the way she wanted to. His curls were right there, though…all she had to do was reach out and she could drag her fingers through them, rub his neck, his shoulder, hold his hand…
But she just continued digging into her omelet instead, stamping down the urge.
"You're not a masochist," she argued. "But you really should put a stop to your need to know what people are saying about you."
"I knooow, but I really, really wanted to tweet about how the snow outside reminded me of the movie Fargo. So…"
Sarah stared at him for a moment. "You had to tweet about that?"
"It felt very important that I let people know. Yes."
She just shook her head at him and smiled. "God, you are the strangest but cutest person and I honestly don't even know what to do about it."
He didn't seem to know how to respond to that, taking a small bite of his "porridge" instead.
"Listen, nervous or not, you need to eat your breakfast. Because I don't want you getting hungry in the middle of our game against Sweden. We'll be wearing mics again, remember, and I don't want all of America hearing your stomach grumble." She gave him a cheeky grin as he narrowed his eyes at her. "More importantly, we need to start shifting our focus. Remember what we agreed on this morning? We both feel really good. Right?"
"Yes. But that was before—"
"No. Whatever you've done since then, forget about it. Grab onto that good feeling again. You had it for a reason."
He leaned in closer. "I have a theory. I think that was the afterglow still from the sex last night."
She rolled her eyes and bit her cheek. "It wasn't. Did you feel this way yesterday morning before we lost both our games?"
He paused. "No."
"No," she chirped, nodding once. "Exactly. Today is our day, Chuck Bartowski. We felt it. Whatever you read on Twitter, it's trash. Garbage. Shit. What you feel right there…" She poked him in the chest and he jumped in surprise. "…is way, way more important. Trust your gut more than you trust random people who hide behind a fake name and an egg picture."
Chuck sighed and nodded. "You're right. I feel better. I want actual food now."
She laughed and pushed her plate closer to him. "Here. Have half of my omelet. I packed it with a bunch of stuff and I think my eyes were bigger than my stomach."
"You sure?"
Shoving the plate closer with a nod, she watched him eagerly cut a chunk of the omelet and carefully transfer it to his side of the table.
"Okay, so I'm not going to forget everything from after that good feeling, though, because I did some research on the Swedish team. Carina Miller loves to use guards. They make their points by being very patient and methodical. So they try to play as many no points Ends as possible, right? Just back and forth knocking one another's shooters out of contention until no one is in the house, the End finishes as a blank. And then when you start getting used to that, Miller starts laying guards, and she slips a draw in there, then makes sure it's buried. And slowly but surely she builds the points up. Suddenly you see they've got six points to your two or something. And it's too late."
Sarah frowned. "I don't even understand how that works."
"I watched a few of their matches on YouTube, fast forwarded through the blank Ends, but they did that for two different matches. Went three Ends with blanks in the second match I watched. They love low-scoring games. It's crazy because it works."
"Or maybe it works because it's crazy?" she asked with a shrug.
"Maybe. We can use this to our advantage, though."She bit her lip and broke off a piece of her muffin, popping it in her mouth and chewing thoughtfully. "Chuck, curling is…it's about what we're doing. It's about our game, you know? Our shots. Our strategy. It isn't like football or something where you try to throw off the other team, trick them or whatever." She winced. "And I know Carina from past competitions. I really like her a lot. I can't—"
"No, no. I know. There's an unspoken integrity and sportsmanship aspect to curling. It's part of what drew me in once I really started competing. We don't have to trick Carina and Oscar, though. That's not what I'm suggesting at all. We just stop them from executing their plan by executing a plan of our own. Trust me. I studied them this morning while you were working on your guns—" That made her laugh, shaking her head. He seriously said the funniest things at the most unexpected moments and she loved it. "I've got it up here," he said with a chuckle, pointing to his temple. "And I have a plan."
Sarah gave him a slow smirk, sipping her latte just as slowly. And then she scanned the dining hall. How many of the athletes in this room were prepared to do whatever they had to in order to win a medal? These were the Olympics, damn it.
Chuck Bartowski wasn't a seasoned curler. He wasn't a veteran. He wasn't a big name. He didn't have any titles under his belt. He used to be a ski jumper, for God's sake. But the guy was really good at thinking outside of the box. He was really good at the element of surprise. He was her partner. They were going to rise up together, or they were going to fall together.
Either way, she felt like it was kind of a win-win if she could manage to get Chuck to stick around.
Her eyes flicked back to his and she nodded minutely. It was enough of a nod though, and his smile widened.
-oooo-
God, he felt so validated.
The first End finished as a blank, just like Chuck had told Sarah it would. And it meant Sweden kept the hammer for the second End, but they would push for another blank End…two Ends of no scoring. It was how they liked to start. Testing, feeling out the game.
But per their plan they'd spent the rest of the morning working on, Sarah tested Sweden's top women's team curler, Carina Miller, with the second rock, Chuck having delivered their first. She bumped Sweden's yellow rock out of the house, settling her red shooter on the four foot ring, and the American team stood to the side to watch as Carina's shot bumped that red out towards the back, inching it just outside of the house.
"That's a really good shot," he heard Sarah breathe.
"It is."
Sweden expected Sarah to continue the pattern and bump Carina's shooter out…rinse and repeat. But Chuck turned and looked at Sarah. "What are you thinking?"
"Oh, you mean, am I going to take their shooter out? No. I'm thinking a corner guard," she said.
He raised his eyebrow. He didn't entirely know where she was going with this, but he liked that. Biting his lip, he ducked his head. "Okay. Cool, cool…I like it. Do it."
Sarah scooted past Carina Miller and as they passed, they shared a smirk. He wondered if the Swede knew what her opponent was doing, if she knew they'd figured out her and Oscar's tactic and were in the process of deciding how to kill it.
She was smart—a genius, really. In a really cunning, hot way, honestly.
And she also looked straight out of the pages of some sort of fashion magazine, with shimmering red hair pulled back in a stylish ponytail and tall, statuesque body. And Oscar Bergqvist was a model. His blond hair was pulled into a man bun at the back of his head and his facial hair made him look like he was straight out of a movie about clean, good-looking vikings or something. It all just felt so unfair.
And he stood a bit taller, running a hand down his front to fix the hem of his red Team U.S.A. jersey. At least he was taller than Oscar. And he felt petty for thinking it. They were both such nice people. It wasn't any more their fault that they were blessed by the gods than it was Sarah's fault she was blessed by the gods. If he didn't begrudge her, there was no reason for him to begrudge Sweden's mixed doubles team.
Chuck stepped up and placed his broom. "This lookin' good to ya?" he asked as Sarah pulled a red rock over and knelt down at the hack. She got into position and concentrated for a second. "Or are you thinking here?" He moved the brush a bit.
"First one," she called out. "Definitely."
Where was she going with this? The idea they'd talked about to interrupt Sweden's game plan was to slip a draw into the four foot ring, just biting into the eight foot. If Carina took the bait and went after it, they'd drop a center guard, then start trying to bury rocks behind it.
But instead…a guard first…
He trusted Sarah blindly. Blindly? Maybe. Yes. Definitely.
She just had so much experience. She knew the game better than anyone he'd ever met. She lived it and breathed it. If she had a plan, he was going to follow her lead, the way she'd agreed to follow his this morning.
Sarah placed the guard perfectly, having to just sweep a bit of the ice to the side to make sure it curled right where she wanted to, and he just watched, not even having to guide her, really.
And as she sidled up next to him, he didn't ask what she was doing. He wanted to figure it out for himself because he loved a good puzzle, especially one that came out of this woman's brain.
By the time Sarah and Carina had battled back and forth a few times, it was Chuck's turn to deliver Team U.S.A.'s last rock of the second End. Sarah had amazingly set it up so that she had two red rocks buried in the house behind that first guard and one of Sweden's yellow rocks biting into the house.
Another of Carina's rocks was sitting just inside of the button. Alone. Unprotected.
"Here?" Sarah asked down the ice, her broom set for him to gauge his shot.
"That's the sweet spot," he teased, getting a roll of the eyes. He spotted the smile anyway and he inwardly grinned. Within just half a minute, Chuck had the yellow rock that had been in the button completely taken out of play, and he'd managed to get very little roll on it, meaning they were lying three rocks in the house.
The crowd near them erupted into applause. He got the glory even though Sarah had done all of the insanely brilliant work, but she didn't seem perturbed by it. Instead, she put a hand up for a high five as he slid up to her. Instead, he grabbed her hand and held onto it, meeting her eyes. He felt the smoldering air between them, that fiery hot connection, and he had to look away, letting go of her before all of America—the world, even—saw the full extent of his feelings for her. He wasn't even ready for her to know the full extent. He wasn't even sure he knew.
Oscar delivered the hammer, then, both of the Swedes jumping in to sweep.
But when it hit the shooter Chuck had just placed, while it knocked that rock out of the house, the outcome Chuck had been expecting, he'd also expected the Swedes to take that one point. A force of one point wasn't terrible when your opponent had the hammer, especially when no one had scored a point yet.
Instead, the roll after the bounce carried the Swedish shooter out of the button. It slid to a stop in a position that the four of them all found themselves questioning. Because the red rock and the yellow rock looked to be almost perfectly at the same distance from the pin at the center of the button.
Chuck knelt down to look a bit closer, then stood again and peered down from above. "I really cannot tell. What do you think?" he asked Carina as she did exactly the same thing he'd done. Oscar leaned in then, and finally Sarah.
"Achht. I dunno," Oscar said, rubbing the back of his neck. Then he gestured over to the official for it to be measured.
It took a few moments, but after the measurement was complete, the official gestured to the red rock.
They'd stolen a point.
Team U.S.A. had stolen a point.
Chuck was careful not to react too much, instead prepping for the next End. But he thought between his general idea to interrupt Sweden's usual game plan, and Sarah's unrivaled ability to execute a beautiful game plan of her own, they just might pull this off.
And a little over an hour later, when the eighth End came to a close, Carina and Oscar walked over to concede the game. They sat at three points to Chuck and Sarah's nine. Sarah signed the paperwork for their win and strolled over to Chuck shaking her head, her face lighting up. They gave one another a two handed high five and followed Carina and Oscar off of the ice and into the tunnel.
"Is your game at eight tonight?" Carina asked over her shoulder.
"Yep."
"Good. Meet us at that bar just outside of the Olympic village. Oscar, what's it called?"
"I don't know. It is Korean and I don't know Korean. But the white tiger in neon lights…ahhh…you know, on the sign. Right outside the village entrance on the south side. It's, uh…a big one." He pulled his hands out wide.
Chuck turned to look at Sarah, but he couldn't read her, so he made the decision for them both. "We'll be there. I don't know when, exactly.""We don't, either," Carina chirped. "And, uh, make sure the shirt you wear is a little tighter than this clunky thing, huh?" She gave his shirt a teasing tug and laughed when he paled. "I'm kidding. You Americans need to lighten up."
Chuck gave Sarah a wide-eyed look and she giggled. "I can't control her. Sorry."
"Nobody can. You'd be fool to try," Oscar said.
Hours passed, and another curling match passed as well, with Chuck and Sarah inching out the Swiss team by seven points to five in eight Ends. And by the time they showered and changed into their non-curling get-up, Chuck was beat.
So beat, in fact, that he fell asleep while Sarah was in the shower, his feet flat on the ground, his thighs, torso, and head lying on the mattress of his bed. He felt her lips against his before he heard her even come into the room, and when she slowly pulled back, giving him a few warm pecks on the side of his mouth before one last long kiss, he groaned quietly.
"I didn't even hear you come in here, you stealthy super spy curler." And then he gasped and craned his neck to look at her, draped over him as she was, her body hovering tantalizingly over his. All he had to do was give her a quick tug and her full weight would be on top of him and they could forget about that bar with the neon tiger or whatever. "Stealthy. Super spy. Curler. That's it!"
She furrowed her brow in question. "What's it?"
"I knew you were too good to be true. This whole thing is a ruse." She looked even more confused. "A spy agency sent you here undercover as a brilliant curler to infiltrate the Olympics and catch any Russian Olympians who slipped through the cracks with that whole doping investigation."
"Oh, God." She giggled and rolled her eyes.
"You're a spy, Sarah Walker." He paused dramatically. "If that's even your real name."
"You got me." Then she slowly lowered her weight on top of him and his body woke up immediately. "You weren't part of the mission, Chuck. But you have to know, if you tell anyone about my true identity, I'll have to kill you."
Chuck pressed his lips together tightly for a moment, and then he whimpered softly. "There's something wrong with me, definitely, because that was probably the hottest thing a woman's ever said to me."
She barked out a laugh and rolled off of him.
When they got to the bar, Carina and Oscar were already there, having gotten a table in the quieter section of the establishment. They also had two large mugs of beer they'd already ordered for them.
"I thought this was supposed to be on us," Chuck said. "I mean, we did win, and them's the rules."
The Swedes exchanged glances, and then glared teasingly. Oscar spoke up. "We started a tab under 'Dumb American'. Next drink you get, you give them your card for the tab."
Chuck and Sarah both laughed.
He noticed Sarah glance down at her beer a little funny then and leaned in. "What?"
"Oh, don't worry, Walker. I brought it here myself and I watched it the few minutes before you arrived." Carina winked, but there was a bit of a seriousness to her gorgeous features at the same time.
He turned and gave his partner a questioning look.
"Carina and I go way back," she explained. "To before I was even on the team. We competed against each other one time and she bought me my drinks that night—"
"I destroyed her."
"You won by one point, you liar!"
"Two!"
"One! Ugh! I'm not even arguing with you about it." She rolled her eyes and turned back to Chuck and Oscar. "Anyway, we clicked. Every bonspiel we happened to both be at ever since then, we get together."
"But that first time was when someone slipped something in Walker's drink when she wasn't looking." Chuck immediately sat up straighter, feeling a rush of protective anger. It surprised him how intense and sudden it was. "She was a goner. Thank God I was there and I could take her back to my hotel room. She couldn't even tell me where hers was she was so bad off."
Sarah shook her head and put a hand to her brow. "That was so terrible. I couldn't see straight or even form words. I thought I was going to die."
"Usual thing when someone is slipped a mickey," Carina explained, bouncing her shoulder.
"Well, I've never been drugged before so…"
"Or since, I hope?" Oscar asked.
"Or since. Thankfully. But she watched over me all night."
"What?!" the other man exclaimed. "I mean, not that my partner isn't a good girl—you're a good girl, Miller—but what a sweetheart, no? Watching over her? Awww, Millerrrr…"
He nearly got shoved right off of his stool.
Chuck laughed outwardly, but he felt the need to… Well, he didn't know. It scared him to think of Sarah in a situation like that. It sounded like she'd been much younger then, maybe more trusting than she was now. To think someone had tried something like that…
Knowing it probably wasn't the smartest idea, but feeling the need to do it anyway, he slipped his hand under the table and gently draped it over Sarah's knee, squeezing comfortingly.
Her hand fell on top of his and she squeezed back, neither of them looking at one another.
"So! The apartments! Much fancier than I expected them to be, yeah?" Oscar asked then, changing the subject. They all agreed. "We can go around and say our favorite thing, like a game. I go first. The microwave."
They all chuckled.
"What can I say? I like to eat."
Carina answered next. "Ugh, the shower. The jet on that thing is better than sex."
"Is it, though?" Sarah asked, making a dubious face.
"I mean…no. It's just a figure of speech, Walker!"
They laughed and Sarah went next.
"The fact that they let us personalize it so much is pretty cool. You know, the pillows with the US colors and stuff on the walls. Chuck?"
"Bed." Everyone turned to look at him and he realized that it sounded exactly the way he meant it. "Th-The bed. I mean, both of the beds. Well, my bed. I obviously don't know how…everyone else's bed feels." He snorted and rolled his eyes. "Heh. I mean, it's so comfortable. …For sleeping. I can't—I mean, I barely wanna get up in the mornin', it's so…comfy." Shut up shut up shut up shut up. "Sarah knows." Oh God. "I just mean, you know, she has to basically…force me…Since—You guys know we're roommates, right? Federation thing. We're forced. Blegh." He cleared his throat. "But yeah, I really like the bed they gave me. Is the moral of that."
Sarah's jaw clenched as she gave him a long, flat look. And then she turned back to the other two. "Wow, Chuck. I guess you really like your bed, huh?" she joked.
They all laughed again and Carina and Oscar eventually moved away to the dance floor, Chuck and Sarah opting out…Chuck opting out mostly because Sarah had his hand in an almost painfully tight grip.
"Really?" she hissed at him.
"Sorry, I…I don't know what happened. I'm very tired. I really am."
"Chuck, you can't let stuff slip like that. I don't think their minds are gonna go where mine immediately did, not even Carina who has a tendency to be a bit of a horndog. But you can't be awkward like that in front of people, even if it is kinda cute."
He did a double take. "You thought that was cute?"
"Chuck!"
"Sorry! I'm sorry. I've never been—I mean, I've never had a relationship type thing with someone and had to keep it a secret from people. I get why, even if I do wanna get up on this table and tell everyone that you somehow find me attractive." Her flat look didn't have the desired effect, though, because he could see the way she bit her cheek to keep from smiling and knew she was charmed by what he said. "I'm having a hard time maybe, but I'll…I'll get there."
Sarah arched an eyebrow and leaned in close.
"Will it help if I stop letting you touch me?"
A shameful amount of desperation went through him and he shook his head, clearing his throat.
"That's—That feels…unnecessary. We don't hafta do that I don't think."
Amused, she twisted her lips to the side a bit and met his gaze squarely. "Good. Do better. Or Twitter's only gonna get worse for you."
He let out a long breath of air and nodded. There was comfortable silence between them for a bit, and then he turned to face her. "So I still get to touch you then, right?"
A/N: Chuck's an insanely adorable doofus and he's just gonna continue getting worse so strap in, readers, and strap in, Sarah Walker. Like, I'm pulling all the stops on the DORK part of adorkable and I can barely even handle it myself so just...be aware. Muahahahahahaha!
-ESC (forever)