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: It's been such a trip seeing how many of you folks didn't give a single damn about curling and are now telling me these anecdotes about sticking up for it against naysayers and actually understanding the rules now. Y'all, ME. TOO. Hahahaha! Thanks for being so supportive of this story. You're all such greats. I truly appreciate you're all here. Thanks for the reviews!
Disclaimer: I don't own this show. I don't own the characters in this show.
For the second time in just a few days, Sarah Walker was jarred awake by a loud banging on her door. She groaned, shifting against Chuck's body to cuddle even tighter, burying her face under his chin.
There was yet another banging then and her eyes snapped open. "Chuck?"
"Mmm?"
"What time were we meeting with Becks in the morning?"
"Have I told you how ridiculously attractive it is that you also call her Becks now?"
Banging again.
"Chuck."
She felt his body tense. "Eight."
"What time is it?"
He moved to look at his watch he'd fallen asleep wearing. "It's fifteen minutes after eight."
"We're so fucked."
They both bound out of the bed, Chuck getting a bit tangled in her sheets and pitching over. He caught himself against the nightstand before he could face plant into the floor and scrambled over to his own bed, messing the sheets up, punching the pillow, even climbing into it and squirming around a bunch to make it look slept in.
She would've laughed if she wasn't so busy stepping into sweatpants and flinging a jacket on over her shirt, smoothing her hair down and rushing into the other room to let their coach into the apartment.
Glancing over her shoulder, she hissed, "Put some clothes on!" and rushed out into the main room, flinging the door open. "Good morning! Uh…"
"You slept in. I know." The small but mighty woman strode past her into the apartment, briefcase under her arm. "That's neither here nor there. You have two must-win matches today, and with the way the rest of the teams are stacking up with their records, we very well could make it into the semifinals."
"Oh." What Beckman said finally settled in her sleep-addled brain. "Oh! Let me see."
The coach opened the briefcase and slapped the notepad with her notes scribbled over it onto the nearby table. Sarah grabbed it and peered at it. "So seven games played, we're at four wins and three losses. Canada is seven for seven on wins, big surprise. We're tied with China right now. Looks like South Korea and Norway are in already."
"And Denmark. And Russia."
"The Olympic Athletes from Russia," Chuck chimed in as he walked into the room, his hair damp from apparently jumping in the shower really quick…either to wake himself up or to make it seem like they hadn't slept together again the night before, she didn't know.
Suffice to say, her threat about not letting him touch her again was an empty one. And they'd both known it. And she'd proven it once again last night. It was…sort of becoming a nightly thing with them, it seemed.
"Whatever. The point is that there are seven teams jostling for four semifinal spots right now. Well, six teams jostling for three spots. Canada's pretty much locked in," the redheaded curling coach said.
"Of course they are," Sarah muttered.
"Here's the thing. If you lose even one of your games today, I just don't think it will be enough to nab one of those semifinal berths. Norway and South Korea have more wins than we do, so even if you win both, there's a chance you might not make it in."
"What a tournament," Chuck said, shaking his head.
"So we win," she added, meeting her partner's eyes over Beckman's head. "Or our Olympic debut is over."
"Guess we better win then."
She smiled a little at how easy he made it sound.
"Well, I have a proposal," their coach said, and she was smiling a little herself. "Your first match doesn't start until two. Maybe it might do us all some good to get out of this village, away from curling, and out to watch an event. I ran into your little friend…the, uh, strange one. Is his name Martin? Mason? Miguel?" She paused. "Mario?"
"Morgan, actually…But I'm sure he'd be incredibly stoked if you called him Mario."
She made a confused face at Chuck but then probably didn't care to further explore that as she shook her head. "Anyway, Morgan handed me this stack of tickets for all of us to watch, uh, whatever his event is." She fished in her jacket pocket and pulled them out. "What does he even do besides what I see him do, which is walking around slapping people on the back and saying 'My man!' and going like this." She wiggled her fist back and forth with her pinky and thumb out.
"That's called hanging ten, Coach. It's—"
"I don't care. We have tickets for the event in two hours. We're doing it." She smacked the tickets into Chuck's palm as Sarah tried hard not to laugh. Then she snagged one of them for herself. "See if any of the others want to join. I'm hungry and I want one of those free McDonald's breakfast croissant things."
She was gone just as quickly, leaving Sarah and Chuck standing there staring at one another.
"Did…she just give us the morning off?" she asked him haltingly.
"I…think she did?" He frowned in confusion. "I think maybe Morgan might have…charmed her."
"I could kiss that beard right now, honestly."
"Well, maybe don't do that," Chuck said quickly. "He thinks you're super hot and he doesn't know about…us. And that's not going to go well."
She snorted even as she thought about Lou. "Don't I know it," she snarked. Then she paused and gave him a teasingly offended look. "Hey, wait. If he thinks I'm super hot and he doesn't know about us, why hasn't he hit on me yet like that bobsled guy and…" She rolled her eyes. "Others."
"Others? There are other—That's not important." He cleared his throat. "Morgan isn't going to hit on you, Sarah. Middle school and high school combined forces to make sure he would know his limitations for the rest of his life."
"Ah. Bullies are good at that." She widened her eyes and pressed her lips together.
"Why, do you want to be hit on by Morgan? I have to say, I've seen him do it and…" He winced with a hiss. "…it ain't pretty. I mean, I'd give him lessons—being the artist that I am," he said, waving his hand with a flourish, "but it's really not something you can learn, you know? It's a talent that comes from deep within."
She laughed and grabbed one of the pillows from the couch, throwing it at him. He squeaked and barely dodged it, laughing with her. "You aren't as great as you think," she flirted, hands on her hips.
"Hooow dare you? I think you should ask the Sarah I was with last night."
Gasping, she grabbed another pillow and threatened to throw that one too, just barely holding back a laugh. "Cheeky! Anyway, having sex is not the same as hitting on someone. It might be the result, but they are not the same thing."
"You've got a point there. If you want, I can get all beefed up like a bobsledder and wax poetic about how fancy the hot cocoa is in Paris," he said, rolling his eyes.
Sarah gaped for a moment, dropping the pillow on the couch and closing the distance between them. "Hey, wait a second. Could you hear that whole conversation? Were you listening?"
"W-No. I just…Maybe. So what! I was just—Because Morgan was—" He sighed and then chuckled, shaking his head at himself and crossing his arms at his chest. She spotted the blush on his face and she felt warmth flood through her. "There's no possible way for me to come out of this without looking like a jealous moron, is there?"
"Jealous? Yeah. Moron? Not at all."
It did make her feel good, she had to admit. Even if he was a little foolish to have been jealous of Cole Barker. From afar, the man seemed like a prize, but up close, he was just another man who used his accent and braggadocio to impress women. She imagined getting to know him better would've left her even less impressed than she'd already been.
"He's a bobsledder. They push bobsleds that are like five hundred pounds. That's some Hulk shit right there. And the guy was pretty smooth. I think the disconnect here is that men see each other way differently than women see men."
"Yeah, I saw a braggart with his head up his own ass and you saw some James Bond bobsled superhero, so I'd say there's a disconnect. But as long as that disconnect doesn't happen against Norway or Denmark, I think I'm okay with it." She sidled up to him and pressed her chest against his then, reaching up to fix a damp curl that was sticking out. "And as long as you stop comparing yourself to men like Cole Barker and Bryce Larkin."
Chuck winced and blushed again. "Sorry. That is a bad habit. I'll try to check myself."
"Good."
She purposely threw a look over her shoulder as she sashayed into the other room to take a shower.
There was no doubt in her mind that cameras would be at the halfpipe qualifying event, and if she was about to be on television in a non-curling situation, she was going to look good, damn it.
-oooo-
It was cold and blustery, and not even doubling up on the scarves was helping to stave it off. He wanted some hot cocoa—not Parisian hot cocoa—and a foot warmer and something that might protect his face from the bitingly frigid air.
But he didn't whine or complain about it. He'd felt worse cold in Wisconsin after he moved there for the U.S. curling team. It also helped that his best friend was a few snowboarders away from his first qualifying run in the PyeongChang Olympics. It was going to be a long couple of hours, but he'd handle it for Morgan.
And Sarah was here, bouncing up and down to keep warm, hugging herself, blowing into her cupped hands. Cameras were everywhere, fans from all walks of life, from many different countries, and probably people who might know who they were…or at least, who Sarah was. So he couldn't sling an arm around her or rub her arms to keep her warm. That was a bummer.
Everything else was good, though. Coach Beckman just had to look sideways at a few people and she got them up to the gate, as close as spectators of the event could get to the actual event.
The snowboarder currently doing his first run, a nineteen year old from Austria, sat down on his last trick to a loud sympathetic groan from everyone around them watching. Chuck winced, but he was used to seeing things like this, considering how many of Morgan's events he'd been to in the last decade just about.
Sarah pressed her face up close to his, then. "When is Morgan supposed to come down?"
"Uh, I've lost count honestly." Then he glanced over his shoulder at the small group of fans with large cardboard Morgan Grimes heads and signs that said "THE BEARD FLIES AGAIN!" and "GO, FLYING BEARD!"
"They'll know," he said, nudging her. "Hey, 'scuse me! Do you know how many guys there are before Morgan Grimes go—"
"Six!" one of the girls said, cutting him off excitedly. "Six more!"
"Thanks." He turned back to his wide-eyed partner. "Yeah, I know. He's got a fan club. The guy really does fly, though. You'll see. Nobody gets the height he does. Nobody in the whole world."
"Helps to be tiny, I guess."
"He isn't tiny! He's perfect-sized!" one of the girls in the Beard Fan Club barked.
Sarah jumped and muttered a quiet, "Sorry" before turning back and giving Chuck a woops face. He just laughed, rocking forward, patting her shoulder.
Then she pulled her phone out of her pocket. "Hey, um, our agent is calling me."
"Zondra?" he asked. Sarah had handpicked Zondra Rizzo as their agent with the federation's approval. Chuck had no idea what went into her decision, if there was history there, if she'd worked with her before. But he'd agreed when Sarah came to him with Zondra Rizzo's name because he trusted her. She was the one who'd done all of this promotional junk before, after all.
He'd only met his new agent once and she'd seemed not to be a big talker. The first thing she did was raise an eyebrow and run her eyes down to his feet and back up again, shake his hand, and smile a bit. It was one of those polite smiles. And then it was right into business. It had been a little unnerving.
"Yeah. Um…" She lifted the phone to her ear. "Zondra, hi. Just a sec, we're in a crowd." She pulled the phone away and reached out as though she was going to grab his hand and lead him out of the crowd with her, but then she stopped herself and tilted her head for him to follow instead.
Apparently, she was also aware of the fact that they were in public and had to minimize the touching, even the smallest and most subtle things, for fear someone could read into it as affection that extended past just a partnership.
"Zondra's calling us," he said to Beckman, having to lean down a bit. "We'll be back." She just nodded, letting out a "oooooo!" as another snowboarder fell on their trick.
Chuck then followed Sarah out of the crowd and stood close by as she lifted the phone to her ear again. "Okay, sorry. What's up?"
She listened for a while and he watched her face closely. It went from curiosity to confusion, and then her brow furrowed a bit as though she was…upset? "I don't want to do that."
Uh oh.
"Yeah, I know. But you know me better than that, Z." There was another pause as she listened. Then, "Right, but Bryce Larkin isn't my partner anymore. Do they know that? Did you explain that to them? That you aren't just my agent, you're Chuck's agent, too? Because my partner's name is Chuck Bartowski." She listened. "Good."
Sarah lifted her gaze to him and gave him a flat look as he tilted his head in question.
"I appreciate you bringing it to me anyway." After a few more seconds, his partner blushed suddenly, looked into his eyes and looked away again, reaching up to play with the little fuzz ball that hung from the ear of her beanie. "That's not—That's not what this is. But hey, guess what, he's standing right here so did you want me to put it on speaker, or…?" She wouldn't meet his eye now. "Well, if any offers come in…Yeah, I know. And I do want sponsorships, of course, and it's great they're interested before the semis even, I just…You get it." Pause. "Okay, thanks. Yeah, let us know. Thanks, Zondra."
She hung up and shoved her phone in her pocket, then looked up at him a bit sheepishly. "Hi."
"What happened?" he asked tentatively.
Fixing her hat, her coat, scratching the back of her neck, doing virtually anything else but answering his question, she finally took a deep breath and frowned. "That was Zondra."
"Yes, I gathered. What'd she say? Something wrong?"
"Nothing's wrong, no." She turned and watched as the crowd erupted. Somebody must've put up a high score, but he didn't care that much, keeping his eyes on Sarah. She turned back to him and sighed. "The federation passed along Zondra's contact info to Lumba—you know, the company that make running shoes—and they want to do a photoshoot here in PyeongChang with a few athletes, a sponsorship deal."
"That's pretty cool!" But he'd been listening to the conversation and even though he'd only heard one side of it, he thought he might get the gist now.
"Yeah, but they talked to Zondra specifically about me. She didn't think I'd take it but she wanted to call to make sure."
"Ah." He squinted out at the competition, watching the Japanese snowboarder make his way down the halfpipe. Sarah's searching gaze was planted on his face. He could feel it and he tried not to let any disappointment show. "It makes sense. You're the face of the sport back home." He turned his gaze to her and smiled warmly.
"Yeah, I know. But I don't curl alone. There are two people on a mixed doubles team."
"But you're the prettier one. And people know you." Realization settled over him then and he frowned. "Wait, you said no?"
"I said no. I don't want to sign up for any sponsorships by myself. I did that when Bryce and I were together—I mean, when we were teammates—but he had more sponsorships of his own, and that was just how it was. But the federation set us up as a packaged deal, you and me. We are the mixed doubles team representing the U.S. and we've got one agent looking out for the both of us. I'm not taking sponsorships that don't include you."
He gave her a crooked grin and she frowned. "What?" she asked.
"Sarah, that's sweet. Honestly, I'm heart-warmed." She blushed and he was even more heart-warmed. "But they're offering you a contract to take pictures wearing their shoes during the Olympics, which means you're making money to curl. I shouldn't factor into your decision. I'm not upset about it. I totally get it." He shrugged.
"I know. I didn't make this decision because I think it'll hurt your feelings or something. I know you're not like that." He could see a bit of a longing on her face as she looked at his chest, like maybe she wanted to reach out and touch him and God, he understood the urge and he wished they were alone and not with all of these people. "I'm doing it because I'm serious about this. I don't want this to just be an Olympics thing. Us as a team, I mean. The, um, the other thing," she lowered her voice for that and stepped a little closer, "I'm not talking about that just now. I mean, not at the moment. Later."
"Yeah. Right." He nodded vigorously. "Later. Makes sense." His throat felt tight.
"I don't know if Bryce and I having a bunch of separate sponsors is part of what made it hard for us to…jive…even though we were together romantically."
Chuck nodded slowly and stuck a finger up under his beanie at the back of his head to scratch an itch there. "Oh. Yeah. But…God, I hope I'm not out of line saying this, but maybe it isn't…er, good…to be basing what you do now off of what went wrong with you and Bryce." He winced. "Sorry, it's just…Not wanting to take a sponsorship for yourself because that was what you did when Bryce was your partner, and your team slash relationship went south. I'm not…I'm not Bryce. Like we've established, I think. And you and I, we aren't you and Bryce. At least, that's what you said."
She raised her eyebrows, then nodded. "You're right. I guess I've sort of been making a habit of looking at things with Bryce as a sort of a guide of what not to do, and I'm maybe going a bit overboard."
Chuck shrugged.
"I'm sorry."
"Don't apologize. I'm not upset." He smiled again and then he studied her face. "But you're still not taking that shoe sponsorship offer, are you?"
She twisted her lips to the side and shook her head. "Nope. We're a team. That means we get team sponsors or none at all."
He nodded. "I respect that. I'm just saying, if you wanted to…But you don't. So I'm gonna stop. Just want to be clear, that's all." Then he paused. He heard her say something like "That's not what this is" while she was talking to Zondra, and it made him wonder what, exactly their agent had insinuated. But he thought maybe it would be best if he didn't ask that question. Instead, he cleared his throat and gestured back to the group. They ambled back, slowly weaving through the crowd to get up where Beckman was. "Uh, I feel like she doesn't like me very much."
"Who, Zondra?"
"Yeah."
"She doesn't like a lot of people, which is funny, since she's an agent, and talking with people is all she does pretty much all day long." She snorted. "But that's just how she comes off, really. I'm sure you aren't one of them."
"One of the many people she doesn't like?" He chuckled. "I might be."
"You aren't. And if you're thinking that's why she called me with that offer that basically nixed you out of the deal, that's not—that isn't what she was doing."
He spun to look at her. "That wasn't what I was thinking." He could see the bit of defensiveness she'd had in her stance ease a bit as they finally stepped up next to Beckman. "No, I trust her. I really do. I might not know anything about her, or where she came from or her experience, yadda yadda, but I trust you and you trust her and that's more than enough for me." He held his hands up in surrender and she smirked, nodding, maybe even looking a bit contrite. He subtly put a hand under her elbow and squeezed, then tucked his hands in the pockets of his coat again.
"Anyway, once she gets to know you better, you won't have to worry about it. She's gonna like you a lot. That's what you do to people."
"Charm their pants off, huh?"
She sent him a warning look. He was confused for a half second, and then he realized how that sounded. "Oh! No, I really didn't mean—ahem!" He stopped when she elbowed him.
"Up next, we've got Morgan Grimes from the United States of America!" the surfer-esque male voice announced over the loudspeaker. Chuck was half excitement and half nerves, so much so that he forgot everything else and reached out to grab at Beckman and Sarah on either side of him.
"Oh my God! Here we go! Here we gooo!"
Chuck could see Morgan way up top, in his favorite dark brown pants and a Team U.S.A. navy blue jacket. And the black helmet with a spray-painted silhouette of his beard on the top of it. Morgan had gone on and on about it when his sponsor had presented it to him before the Olympics. With one last adjustment of his goggles, he drifted down to his starting point, gave both his thighs a quick smack with his gloved hands, and was off.
No matter how much Chuck went to these events, no matter how many hours he'd spent around Morgan and his snowboarding friends, no matter how many conversations he'd been a part of when the technical snowboard lingo was used, he'd never understand anything about these tricks.
So when Morgan flew up the wall of the halfpipe and soared dozens of feet into the air, spinning, churning, grabbing his board, and swiveling around to land on the wall cleanly again, Chuck had no damn clue what he'd done, but the Flying Beard landed it without falling, so he let up a loud cheer and put his hands on top of his head, holding his breath as he watched his friend go into another trick. God, the height this guy could get. It was phenomenal. All he had to do was grab his board and land it cleanly and Chuck knew it'd get him major points. Morgan landed another trick. And another. And a few more. And as he surged into the air on his last trick, flipping and spinning like an absolute madman, Chuck let out a loud roar when he watched the Flying Beard stomp the landing.
"THAT'S MY BEST BUDDY!" he yelled, one hand on top of his head, the other pointing. "THAT'S MY GUY! THE CHEWIE TO MY HAN! WOOOO!"
Even Beckman was clapping with her hands up above her head, giving Morgan resounding applause. The announcer piped up then, "Did you SEE THAT, folks?! The Flying Beard is laying down the law up here! Oh, wowwwww!"
The guy kept rambling, but Chuck wasn't listening to what he was saying because Morgan slid to a stop where the athletes were supposed to wait for their scores and popped his helmet off. He turned and pointed to his fans, the giant Morgan head and Flying Beard signs bouncing as they screamed at him. And then he followed the line of the crowd until he saw Beckman, Chuck, and Sarah huddled up against the barrier.
"Ayyyyyy!" He pointed to Chuck and let out a wookie cry, making Chuck laugh.
They waited, and waited, and waited…
"Judges taking their sweet-ass time," Beckman muttered grumpily, and Chuck bit his cheek to keep from laughing as Sarah gave him a highly amused look.
The score finally posted…
"OH! A NINETY-FOUR POINT SEVEN FIVE!" the announcer yelled.
Even Morgan looked overwhelmed.
He finally unbuckled himself from his board, stepped off of it, and hoisted it under his arm to slump through the snow. Chuck wrestled through the crowd with Sarah and Beckman in tow and finally got over to where Morgan was walking by. They hugged over the barrier.
"Morgs! Buddy! That was fuggin' majestic!"
"Bruh, I flew!"
"The beard flew!"
They hugged again and Chuck thumped him on the shoulder a few times. Then Beckman shoved him out of the way and grabbed Morgan's arm. "Does this mean you've qualified?"
"Uh…" He blinked, the vibrant grin on his face dimming and looking a little like fear all of a sudden. "W—Uh. I've got another run. Probably in about an hour, once everyone else cycles through again. But, for now I'm sittin' mighty pretty. Still three other guys that need to make their first run. But I should be through, yeah."
"He's sitting in first position," Sarah said. And then she reached over to pull Morgan in for a hug. "Freaking amazing, dude. Good job!"
He was blushing and grinning as he thanked her, and then he ducked away to go back up and prep for his second qualifying run.
The next hour went by pretty quickly, but the qualifying became intense, with people starting to get scores like ninety-five, ninety-six. Morgan sat in the third position by the time he stood at the top, ready to make his last qualifying run.
"He's through, though, right? He's in the finals?" Sarah asked nervously, her hand clinging to his sleeve.
"Oh, yeah. He's definitely in the finals. But I know Morgan. He's gonna want that first spot. If you qualify in first place, you get to go last in the finals and that's a huge advantage."
"Why?"
"Everyone finishes before you and you can gauge just how big you gotta go to win."
She nodded, then gasped as Morgan started his second qualifying run.
"C'mon, buddy," Chuck muttered under his breath. "C'mon, c'mon."
Morgan stuck the landing on his first trick. "Yessss!"
Then he stuck the second.
The third.
Fourth…
And finally he went into his fifth trick.
"One more! C'mon, Morgs…put it down…put it down…YES! YES, HE DID IT!" He didn't care about the cameras, he caught Sarah when she jumped into his arms and he squeezed her with all the might he was capable of.
Sarah was practically screaming in his ear and he dealt with it if only to share this moment of celebration. Per usual, she came to her senses first and pulled away, her grin lighting up the entire venue as she reached over and yanked their coach into the embrace.
They didn't have to wait as long for Morgan's score.
With a ninety-eight point two five he was going into the final round with the highest score he'd ever gotten in his life.
A snowboard enthusiast Chuck had never seen before literally started crying behind them, sinking down to his knees and covering his face. "This is just the qualifiers!" he cried out. "This is the best day of my liiiiiife!"
They were all laughing as they stepped around the happy man, rushing over to meet Morgan and hugging him again.
The Flying Beard had a slew of sports reporters asking for on-camera interviews after his insane run, and Beckman looked to be getting a bit antsy, so they headed out soon after. It was so freezing that Chuck didn't feel like it'd even be healthy to linger much longer, and they all climbed into the bus heading back to the Village.
-oooo-
Her eyes slipped shut, using the short bout of silence in the prep room to center herself, meditate even. This was a must-win game if they wanted to proceed into the semifinals. She felt a hand slip into hers and when she opened her eyes, Chuck was standing in front of her, looking at her with so much earnestness that she almost felt a bit weak.
"Ready to kill it?" he asked with a bit of a smirk, his voice low as he lifted their hands between them at chest level and held on in something of a handshake.
She squeezed. "Ready to slay. Also, just for the record, I seriously wish I could kiss you right now."
Chuck bit his bottom lip, narrowed his eyes, and wrinkled his nose, making an aching little whimper. "I appreciate that sentiment and agree more than is probably proper being that I am a gentleman." She giggled through her nose, beaming. "We get through today with two wins and you can do whatever you want with me." Her entire body absolutely buzzed at that, but then he tilted his head and made a face. "I mean, honestly, no matter what happens with these two games, you can still do whatever you want with me. But you get it."
Sarah laughed and pulled back, shaking her head and tucking a few stray strands of her blond hair into her braid. There was a lot at stake this afternoon, and again tonight. If they didn't win, they were looking at a quick exit from the tournament. But Chuck had basically just told her he was still up for grabs later. So there was that, at least, even if they lost.
They walked out with the Norwegian team in front of them, and Sarah was careful not to look up at the people sitting in the stands. Jane had texted her a warning and told her to tell Chuck not to look, either. Sarah didn't know what the signs Jane warned her about said but she imagined whatever it was, it might throw her and/or Chuck off their game.
She peeked at him and saw that he was pointedly facing away from the crowd as they set up for the first End.
They forced Norway to only take one point in the first End then came out with guns blazing, picking up three points in the second End.
In the third, Norway got one back, and in the fourth, Chuck delivered a stone that got them another three, executing a perfect double takeout with the hammer. They went in at half with a lead of six points to Norway's two.
She ignored the couple as they huddled in the corner arguing with one another.
"Are they…together?" Chuck whispered near her ear, making her shiver.
"Engaged," Sarah responded, and she turned and met his gaze accidentally. They both looked away quickly and she rolled her eyes at the awkward exchange.
A few minutes later, they were called back out onto the ice for the second half. Aud Olsen walked out next to Sarah and in a low tone that only she could hear, the other woman said, "Sorry about the argument. We don't usually but you know…love and sport don't always mix well." She laughed and nudged Sarah with her elbow.
"Don't I know it," she breathed, sarcastically, because she and Bryce had played against Aud and Erik in a bonspiel not a year earlier, and if she remembered correctly, she hadn't won. But Aud had to know about the break-up, if for no other reason than that Sarah was now playing with a new partner.
"Just don't get engaged to him, and you'll be fine," Aud joked, gesturing to Chuck.
They were both laughing together as they walked out of the tunnel, but Sarah's was rather forced. Aud was just teasing about her own engagement to her partner Erik. Of course. But the warning got under her skin a bit.
Love and sport don't always mix well.
Anyway, what an intense word: love. That was too intense. She needed to get her head in the game.
It was a hard fought game for both Team USA and Team Norway, with the crowd really getting into it around them. In the eighth End, Sarah finally stole a glance up at the stands and saw a sign with "Bartowsker" drawn inside of a giant heart. That must have been what Jane was trying to protect her against.
And while she didn't want either Chuck or herself to do anything to clue people in on their relationship under the partnership, the sign didn't actually bother her all that much.
They were leading eight points to six. Norway was making an epic comeback, and they needed to stop it now. Sarah had the hammer and she just had to make this takeout count for a point to end the game with a win.
The only problem was that she needed to bump three of Norway's rocks to get that point and end the game with a win.
Which was not easy.
"Where should I hit it?" she asked Chuck as they peered down at the rocks. She glanced up at the deliberation time they had and breathed a sigh of relief. They had plenty of time to figure this shot out. She turned her gaze back to him then. "I need your brain."
He was quiet for a moment, his tongue poking out between his lips a bit as he thought, and then he pushed a hand through his hair and huffed. "You're not gonna like this."
"Try me."
"A tap back."
She raised an eyebrow at him. "You're kidding."
"This is the Olympics. Of course I'm not kidding." They exchanged a bit of a smile. "This guard here," he gestured to the guard he'd set up earlier on in the End, "is in perfect position for a raise. Hit it just to the side here, the guard rolls to bump this guy," he said, pointing his broom towards the Norwegian rock. "Your shooter rolls this way, smacks this lovely here…" He moved his broom over to the second Norwegian rock they were trying to take out. "And all we need is for it to bump this third rock just far enough…have the shooter stop somewhere in here."
That was insane. It was madness. She could just try to curl it around everything else to get it in counting position. But that would be a nearly impossible shot. And Team Norway currently had three rocks lying. They would win if she couldn't get it where she needed it.
But how much more ridiculous would they look if she did Chuck's suggestion and missed it?
Then again, what if she didn't miss it? It would be incredibly cool. And they would win on top of that.
"I'm seriously doing this," she said, shaking her head. "Last shot of the game, and I'm working a promotion to bump three counters and win it. Instead of playing it…" She paused for just a moment, meeting Chuck's gaze. "…safe."
Screw safe, she thought to herself.
"You know what? I'm doing it."
"Yesssssssss!"
He got into position as she scooted back to the last rock of the game, and then she got into position at the hack and took off.
She needed to hit the guard at the right speed and power so that the angle would careen it into the Norwegian rock, but still have enough of a powerful roll to do the rest of its job in taking out two of their opponents' rocks.
She was up and following it, bent over with her broom at the ready.
"Line!" she heard Chuck call out. "Yes yes…Hard! Hard!"
She scrubbed the ice with her broom then and she didn't stop until Chuck let out a quick "Whoa!"
And when she stood up and slid over to her partner's side, she was so focused on what was happening with her shot that he had to reach out and hold onto her arm to keep her from slamming into his side.
Sarah didn't care, though, because her shot wasn't exactly perfect. The guard was sent into a Norway rock and did its job, but the shooter didn't get the second Norway rock on the nose like they'd wanted, so it knocked into the third Norway rock in the wrong place, and…
"C'mon c'mon," she heard Chuck breathe and then he let go of her and pounced, sweeping in front of the Norway rock to try to make it stop as far away from the button as possible. She watched him work, pulling her bottom lip between her teeth.
It was going to be close…
So close…
He did it.
They did it.
The audience behind them erupted.
By less than an inch, she thought Chuck had somehow gotten enough sweeping in to scoot that last rock just far enough away from Team U.S.A. to get that last point of the game.
She held her breath as the Norway team scurried over to look at it. Then they turned and came over to concede the match. After they shook hands, Sarah noticed the storm cloud look between the couple, but that was the last time she thought of what Aud had said in the tunnel, because Chuck went in for a quick high five and pulled her in for a one-armed hug.
"That was an insane shot, Sarah. Insane."
"It was your idea," she said as they pulled back. She was breathless. They'd nearly let Norway creep back up on them. And instead, now, they won nine to six.
"Maybe it was my idea, but no other curler in the world could've actually executed that crazy shi—"
"Shitaki mushrooms!" she burst out, eyes wide. And Chuck laughed his ass off as they let the officials remove their mics. Sarah signed the paperwork and they filed into the tunnel. She only heard the tail end of the argument between the Norwegian couple, in their own language. That was one of the languages she hadn't learned in her travels, so she had no idea what they'd been saying but as the door to the hallway that led through to the exit slammed behind them, she thought it hadn't been anything good.
She turned to exchange a wince with Chuck, but they couldn't do much more than that because there were a few other teams in the room, preparing to go out and play their matches.
Just one more game for the day, she had to keep repeating in her head as they changed their shoes.
They had to win this one last game, and then they only had to await their fate.
She had a lot invested in this. The federation had a lot invested in this. Beckman and Graham…Chuck. Everyone was counting on them to do well here. This was no longer a "Let's compete and see how we do" situation. She wanted this so bad. She wanted in on those semifinals. And she thought maybe with the concentrating look on Chuck's face, the hardness of his jaw, his furrowed brow, the tenseness of his shoulders, he was right there with her.
He usually was.
They had to stay focused.
They could do this.
-oooo-
They won.
They'd done it.
Chuck was surprised by how heavy the medal was as he stooped down to have it placed around his neck. He was grinning so hard his face hurt. Or maybe it was the cold. It didn't matter.
He stood up straight and slipped a hand under the medal, tilting it so that he could peer down and look at it. It was so shiny, so gold. Chuckling, trying to hold tears at bay, he turned to wave at the crowd watching his medal ceremony as his partner got her own medal.
This wasn't possible. This couldn't be real. He couldn't believe this was happening.
They'd won the gold medal for mixed doubles curling and the sponsorships would just pour in. Everyone would want to talk to them. The crowds would follow them everywhere.
He reached down and slipped his hand into hers, but it…felt different. He let go quickly, almost having forgot nobody was supposed to know about them being…together? Were they together? Did sleeping together a whole bunch mean they were together? They hadn't really qualified what it was they were doing and oh, the American anthem was playing. Crap.
He put a hand over his heart, preparing to sing, and then he heard a voice beside him that…sounded…
Frowning a little, still mumbling the words to the anthem, he stole a peek at his side and saw…
JILL?!
He screamed and jumped away from her, as far away as possible, anywhere that wasn't next to her, and then he landed hard on something and there was a throbbing ache in his head and…
"Chuck? R'you okay?"
That voice already felt better.
"Chuck!"
He blinked a few times in the dark and looked up to see Sarah's concerned face peering down at him over the edge of the mattress.
"Oh my God…"
She scrambled out of the bed and knelt down next to him, wearing only her underwear and a bra. She must be really cold. As she put a hand under his head and tried to help him sit up, he stroked his own hand up her bare side. Her skin was so smooth. "You must be cold. You have no clothes on."
Sarah huffed, concern still written all over her face in the dark of the room. And then she reached up and turned on the lamp, illuminating their general area and he winced against the light as she cupped his face. "Yeah, well…oh wow, that's a bump."
"Ah!" he let out as he felt a stinging sensation when she pressed her fingers to the back of his head.
"Sorry," she breathed, moving her hands back to cup his jaw. "What happened?"
"Uh…you tell me."
"Are you dizzy?" she asked as though he hadn't even said anything. "How many of me are there?"
"You're one in seven point six billion, Sarah Walker," he muttered, smiling dreamily.
"That's sweet, Chuck, but you aren't exactly making me feel better here. Are you seeing double, I meant."
"Oh. No. I can see just fine. I see what you're doing here. I think I'm okay. I just maybe…I hit something on my way down."
She frowned deeply. "I know. I heard it happen. A bang right before the thump of you landing on the ground. We need to make sure you don't have a concussion or anything."
"No, I don't. Really. Just a little bit of a bump."
"Let's get you up."
She slung her arms underneath his and with both of them working together, he was standing in seconds. He didn't feel woozy or dizzy. He wasn't swaying. But that spot on his head did hurt. He reached back to feel it and winced again, but at least when he pulled his fingers away there wasn't any blood, he thought.
"That's gonna be a bump," he drawled in a flat voice.
"What happened?" she asked again.
"It was just a nightmare." The worst nightmare ever. The best dream morphed into the worst nightmare. He shivered and cringed unconsciously. "I guess I got scared enough that I rolled out of bed."
"You literally used both hands to push off of me and you flew right over the edge," she said, rubbing her hands over his biceps comfortingly. "Almost like you were trying to get away from me. It was a stark contrast to spooning." She raised her eyebrows and he knew she was trying to get a smile or a laugh from him. Maybe to set her at ease more than anything. He could see he'd scared her and he felt terrible.
He chuckled and reached over to cup her elbows. "I'm sorry. I wasn't trying to get away from you, it-it was someone else."
"Who was it? Must've been somebody pretty bad for you to have reacted like that."
"Uh…I don't really remember anymore. Weird how that happens." He'd just lied. He remembered. But he was so creeped out and even a little disgusted with himself that the pernicious woman from his past was still in his mind somewhere. He thought he'd expelled her from it altogether. Gross.
He felt the bump and winced again. "Mannnn."
"I'm getting you ice," she said, and she pulled away again.
"Not like that, you aren't."
She looked over her shoulder at him as she moved across the room, and she laughed. "What, you think I'm going down to get ice in my underwear?" She snorted as she slipped into some sweatpants with Team U.S.A. printed on the seat of them, and then she shrugged a large sweatshirt over her bra. "I'm not doing that, for two reasons. One, it's fucking freezing literally everywhere in this place, and two, I don't really like the idea of running around in a bra and undies where everyone else can see me. Weird, I know."
"It is cold," seemed to be the only way he could respond to that.
She snorted and went over to open the flap of his suitcase, grabbing a random sweatshirt from it and throwing it onto the bed they'd just vacated. "There. Put that on. I'll be right back." She stepped into furry boots and grabbed her badge and wallet. "Please don't lie down and try to go back to sleep or something. In case…you know, in case it is a concussion."
Then she turned and stared at her phone for a second, and finally went over to grab it.
Before she left the room, she strode over to him and put a hand on his bare chest, stroking his skin and making him shiver in a good way. And then she was gone. He listened for the sound of the door to their apartment shutting and he smiled a little to himself.
Then he frowned, going over to grab the sweatshirt that had landed on the end of the bed and quickly yanking it on. "It is fucking cold," he breathed to no one in particular, and then he grabbed some proper pajamas and pulled them on over his boxer briefs that he'd fallen asleep in, just barely finding the energy to slip into them after the post-sex shower, before he draped himself around her like a warm blanket and dozed off.
Then the dreams started.
Well, that wasn't really a dream, was it? It was a terrible nightmare.
Why did brains have to be so cruel?
Out of all of the women he'd been with, and in spite of Morgan's teasing it really hadn't been all that many, his brain had picked the worst, most detrimental, poisonous one to insert in place of Sarah on that medal podium. What in the hell?Was that some sort of bad omen?
He huffed and shook his head.
They'd beaten Norway nine to six that afternoon, and then they'd absolutely smashed Denmark, with a ruthless ten to two win in seven Ends. By the end of the night, they ended up tied with China in the rankings and had to play them again at ten the next morning. Canada, South Korea, and Norway had already qualified. But they and the Chinese team had come away with the same record of six wins and three losses, and now they had to play a tie breaker to see who got that last semifinal spot.
If they won, they'd have to play Canada in the semifinal. Shit.
One match at a time, as Sarah would say.
But now he'd woken them both up at one in the morning because of his shitty Jill nightmare, the night before a tie breaker game to get them into the semis. Shit again.
He slipped some socks onto his feet and ambled into the other room. Wasn't there some protocol for concussions? Like you weren't allowed to sleep or something? How would that affect the match versus China the next morning? He'd be a wreck. Sarah couldn't handle all of that alone, with a partner whose lack of sleep had broken his brain.
Chuck Bartowski just stood in the middle of the apartment, staring at the back of the couch, his mind going through any number of terrible scenarios. He'd wreck the match tomorrow, they wouldn't make the semis, and the social media abuse would continue. He'd have to cancel his account, delete it, delete himself everywhere on the Internet. And who knew what sort of effect it would have on Sarah, on her career, her self-worth. He knew what Bryce did had already taken a chunk out of her confidence in herself.
He wandered over to the TV and turned it on, plopping down on the couch but sitting up straight just in case. There was an Olympic channel for the athletes to catch up on other events, he knew, so he switched it to that and immediately frowned.
It was a replay of their game against Denmark from earlier on that Chuck recognized Bryce's voice immediately.
"Well, Mike, the interesting thing about Sarah is that she tends to be distracted during games. She's brilliant, don't get me wrong. But so brilliant that—I mean, she'll see four or five different options for a shot in front of her, and it makes it hard for her to decide."
"Really?" his fellow commentator prompted.
"So I mean, you can see it all on her face…"
Sarah and Chuck were both standing at the house, looking down at the placement of the rocks. She muttered a quick, "If we take it around the guard, we can bury it."
"Yeah…but…"
"I love this, Mike. I love that we get the mics on these curlers. You can hear everything," Bryce said. "I mean, every word she says to him. See? Look at that. She's trying to decide."
"Maybe he'll have to make the decision."
"Exactly."
Chuck did exactly that, then. He told her to bury it, curl it around the guard and bury it behind the Denmark rock. And it validated everything Bryce had just said. He was furious, though, because that wasn't how Sarah curled at all. That wasn't how their partnership worked, either. He didn't decide for her. They collaborated. And she wasn't indecisive in the slightest. She just sought his input because they were a team. In that same exact match, she saved him from taking a risk that wasn't just unnecessary, it was cocky and foolish. He'd made the right play thanks to her guidance and he'd prevented what could have been a steal of three for Denmark. They discussed things. There was no hierarchy, no one decision maker.
He was pissed.
"Oh, nice shot from Sarah there."
"She really is the best at execution I've seen in the game," Bryce said. "I could always count on that once I gave her a path."
This was so horrible, so unprofessional, so patronizing. He wanted to turn it off.
He finally did a few minutes later, after hearing what Bryce had to say about him. It was just subtle enough that it didn't sound like he was digging on him, but Chuck heard the dig. Inexperience, shakiness…Chuck knew he was rash, more so than a lot of the more experienced, veteran curlers. But Sarah wasn't rash. She was experienced. She was a veteran curler, and he deferred to her experience.
On the one hand, Bryce Larkin was building his old teammates up as underdogs. That would probably get more Olympics viewers to root for them, which was good. On the other hand, Chuck didn't like the idea of being subtly crapped on. And he liked it even less when Sarah was the subject.
There was probably nothing that could be done about it at this point, and letting it get under his skin would only hurt, not help. So he shook it off.
The door opened behind him then and he was glad he'd turned off the TV before Sarah could see what he'd been watching. Like the nightmare, this was just another thing he would be keeping under his hat. Hopefully neither of them would have to be subjected to Bryce's commentary.
"I've got you some ice and, um, something else, too."
He was hoping for a cookie or a cupcake or something from the twenty-four hour market in the lobby of the building but when he turned he saw no cookie…no cupcake…
More of a beefcake, actually.
A/N: WHO DIS IS?
Leave a review and I'll tell you in the next chapter. Hehehehehehehe just kidding I'll tell you anyway. Haha! Thanks, friends!
-SC