Critical Hellfire

By Steampunk . Chuckster

Summary: Chuck and Morgan are co-hosts of a locally popular streaming channel in which they discuss all things metal while playing video games. Their lives are uprooted when their demo guy hands them THE demo of the ages—a band called Critical Hellfire, fronted by singer and bassist Sarah Walker. AU Charah.

A/N: Not entirely in the mood to say much more than thanks to those of you who are reviewing. I appreciate that.

Disclaimer: I don't own CHUCK or any of its characters. I don't own any of the songs mentioned in this chapter, this fic, or anywhere else for that matter. I am making absolutely zero dollars writing and posting this.

The brunette slinked around to look down at him in her high-heeled sandals and waved in his face this time. "What are the odds? Fate keeps putting us in each other's path, huhhh?"

"Mmm, fate is a cruel mother fucker," Sarah heard him mutter. She widened her eyes a little at that. That was probably the least nice thing she'd seen this guy do, and she'd watched a lot of his Twitch streams earlier, and he and Morgan fought viciously over video games.

There was history here, and it was blistering. She could feel it. It made her uncomfortable suddenly.

"Hi, Jill," he droned, not even bothering to look, his back still to her. She seemed to notice he hadn't looked, so she sort of skipped around him to try to make him look in a painfully, embarrassingly desperate sort of way.

The other woman's eyes fell onto Sarah then and the excited, almost manic look on her face dropped, replaced by a surprising amount of jealousy and spite. Like someone had slapped the smile right off of her face and instead made her thin lips even thinner, her teeth almost baring. "Oh." She glanced between Chuck and Sarah. "I'm obviously interrupting something."

Sarah wasn't sure what to say, overwhelmed by this cringe-worthy situation. Was this his girlfriend? This was incredibly awkward if so, and honestly, she felt a certain stinging sensation she couldn't place in her chest. Maybe she'd read more into this comfortable, warm conversation, the way she found herself leaning closer the longer they talked.

Chuck spoke up and shattered all of those worries. And his clearly dismissive tone laid to rest that she'd misread what was going on here before this sad woman climbed onto the roof.

"Yes," he said in a crisp matter-of-fact tone. "You are."

"Hmm." This Jill woman let her eyes slide down Sarah's leather pants to her boots and back up the mesh top with the bra underneath, diverting her eyes just as quickly. "Well, you're forgiven. But don't say I don't ever do nice things for you. As long as you call me later."

"No," Chuck said, shaking his head. "First of all, there's nothing for you to forgive. I'm not asking for forgiveness because I owe you nothing. Secondly, I will not be calling you later, Jill. We've been through this. Please let me have my space. I'm begging you."

She held up her hands in surrender, eyes wide, and mouthed, "Ooooookay", sending him an amused look, and then she slinked off with a, "Byyyye, Chuuuuck". Sarah got one more scathing look from the depressing, strange woman before she went back to the man she'd apparently come up to the roof with.

And to make matters even more upsetting, she began to kiss his neck, pressing herself into him, and glancing at Chuck's back again as if she wanted him to look and perhaps be jealous?

Sarah felt a sick feeling in her chest. "Um…"

"If she's doing something embarrassing, please just…don't tell me," he begged quietly, purposely facing forward where he sat on the air vent. He huffed. "Sorry about that, Sarah. That wasn't—I don't even know how she got here. Why she's at your warehouse. I thought I'd be safe but apparently nowhere is safe from Jill fucking Roberts."

"Friend of a guest or something probably. Or, uh, maybe she was brought as a date…? I'm sorry we were apparently a little lax about who is and isn't let in…" She grit her teeth in a wince.

"Unfortunately, we run in similar circles. She's always at the bars, clubs, rock houses, that I go to. …That's where we met." Chuck let out a rough breath, still looking straight ahead, as if deeply mortified by what she'd just witnessed. She didn't blame him; it was embarrassing…but it wasn't like it was his fault.

That did however clear up her biggest question.

"A-ha. So she's an ex." He sent her a flat look and she wrinkled her nose in regret. "Yeah, it was…kind of obvious, wasn't it?" He snorted and chuckled, giving her an amused, kind look. "Since I just…witnessed that, um, display… You mind me asking what's up with all that?"

Sarah couldn't help being deeply curious after what she'd just seen. It was like how traffic slowed to a stand still around a car crash even when authorities moved it to the side of the road and out of the way. People couldn't help looking even if it might be a gruesome sight. The lookie-loo effect.

She was a lookie-loo.

"You sure you wanna know? It might leave you deeply depressed," he said flatly, embarrassment still on his face.

"I kinda do, yeah."

He sent her another amused look. "Okay, your funeral. Yes, Jill is my ex. We broke up a few months ago. It was the best thing I ever did for myself." He let out a snort and widened his eyes. "I don't know if you've ever been in a toxic relationship befo—"

"Yep," she said immediately, nodding. "Yes, I have. A…few," she admitted with a wince. She wasn't lying. She'd even lived with two of them. One of them to get away from her fraught home life and piss off her divorced parents who weren't the parents she needed them to be, which had been the biggest mistake, and the other because she thought she was ready for it. She was not. And he was terrible as a roommate and as a boyfriend.

"She still thinks I'm, like…playing games or something. Playing hard to get, trying to make her jealous. That isn't me, but also, how fuckin' immature does she think I am? Like she still thinks she has a hold on me the way she used to. And she doesn't. And it won't…penetrate that hard fucking head. She was raised to think she's God's gift to mankind by extremely privileged, rich, white parents who made their money off the backs of poorly paid workers and shady backroom deals. I thought she was different from them at first but she isn't. I was already too far gone by the time I realized she's just as privileged and entitled as her family. My clothes are too wrinkled, too threadbare, I wear too many sneakers, let's go out and get you some nice shoes for once, shoes that hide how big your feet are ha ha ha you look like a clooown. I need to fix my hair, get it cut and styled appropriately. Stop hunching. It makes you look like you have no self-esteem. Well, yeah, you massacred said self-esteem so thank you very much. I bought into it because…fuck, finally a girl who's into me. And she made me feel like if I didn't have her, I wouldn't have anybody else ever again." He shrugged, shame in his face. Shame and maybe guilt, too. "I'm not proud of it. Any of it."

Sarah nodded, glancing over at where Jill was now making out heavily with the other guy. She kept peeking over as if trying to see if Chuck cared. And he clearly did not. It was crystal clear he never wanted to see the woman ever again.

"To me, it looks like she has terrible self-esteem, what you said about her thinking she's God's gift to mankind aside." She screwed up her face. "The way she's starving for attention, not able to get it through her head that your relationship is done."

"She knows it's done but I hurt her feelings, and you don't do that to people like her. You don't say 'no' to people like her because mommy and daddy never did that so they aren't used to it." He used a hoity-toity higher pitched mocking tone that made her giggle. His resulting smile was sweet. "And she's angry someone broke up with her. Specifically someone like me. It's probably difficult for her, watching someone she was so sure she had crushed under her heel climb out from under it and tell her to fuck off. When I tell you she's toxic, I mean she is toxic. Like, as a person. Not just the relationship."

Sarah pressed her lips together. "She doesn't seem like a healthy person to be with."

"She wasn't. And it was catching. I hated myself a lot around her. S-Sorry. I'm just…blabbing a lot of my shit—"

"Don't apologize," she said adamantly, feeling a weird sort of anger mounting in her. It wasn't just about the fact that it was him, either, it was the fact that this woman had treated another human being like that. It was bullshit. "I asked for the details; you're giving them to me."

"Thank you," he said with an amount of warmth that caught her off-guard. She wasn't used to unguarded people, and he was very, very unguarded. "Needless to say, I was not okay when I was with her. And I am very okay now. She keeps invading my existence like you just saw, though, and it's become something I have to deal with. I just…expect it now. She's always lurking somewhere nearby. Like a malaria-carrying mosquito."

She snorted a bit at the comparison. Then she pursed her lips and propped her chin in her palm. "You shouldn't have to deal with that. Her self-esteem issues shouldn't be your problem. I don't know if I'm reading you totally wrong, and I might be, but…you seem like a pretty nice guy, Chuck. And if there's even a bit of guilt—I dunno what over, maybe her obvious lack of self-worth?—that isn't your burden to bear. You protected your own peace, your spirit, by cutting yourself off from that mess. As you should have. I protected myself by moving out of the apartment of a dude who wanted to know where I was going, who with, when I was coming back…Didn't even give him a reason, I just grabbed my shit and got outta there, stayed on a friend's couch for a few weeks 'til I could find another place. You can't let people like that hold you down."

Chuck looked up at her and furrowed his brow, that slow smile sweeping over his face again. And then he nodded. "You're right. I came through the shitty tunnel better on the other side." Then he gestured around them. "And apparently so did you. This place kicks ass. You renting it or…?"

"No, I bought it." He gaped at her, looking up at her through his eyelashes. She giggled. "Yeah, I know what you're thinking. How does a girl in an unsigned, unlabeled rock band in a city full of other bands just like hers afford a refurbished old-ass warehouse with a fancy second-story loft?"

"I…wasn't…thinking anything," he tried.

She laughed at him and he ducked his head with a self-deprecating smirk. She didn't know why but she reached out and stroked his shoulder to lave the potential bite that was her laughter.

"I was kind of raised by my grandma for most of my life and teen years 'til I broke off on my own at eighteen. I was closer with her than I was with anyone else, and—" She paused, wondering why she was suddenly so freaking talkative, but he was watching her with a softness, an eagerness, that made her want to spill her guts. It felt dangerous. And still, she kept going. "I probably was the only person she felt like she could relate to, you know? She was kind of eccentric. But she didn't tell anyone, least of all me, that she was from a super rich banking family. She'd been sitting on a fortune, living in a little two-room bungalow outside of Long Beach for years, sitting on a vast inherited fortune. And when she died, I got all of it in her will."

He let out a long, intense puff of air, his lips fluttering, his eyes wide. "Whoooaaaa. That must've been…uh…heh…"

"A shock? Yeah. A big one. She set up a trust fund and everything, but I was already old enough for it by the time she passed away. Suddenly I had a fortune that would last me a lifetime, and my kids if I have any, their kids…maybe even their kids." She let out a nervous laugh. "Like you said about that, uh, big contract you just signed with that producer of yours? It didn't settle for a while."

"It's settled now?"

She nodded. "I think so. It's been a few years since it happened. I didn't know what to do with it, I was…in a relationship. I'd just moved in with him. Ugh. And I had to learn how to be proactive and smart with a shit ton of money really, really fast while kind of…keeping it to myself. I wasn't really sure what the people around me would do if they knew. I-I mean, the band, sure."

"You figured it out?"

"Mm, having a financial advisor you can trust helps." She raised her eyebrows.

"Well, if Morgan and I don't fuck up this new contract somehow and we get more money than just that first paycheck, I would like to manage my money the way you have." He gestured to the rooftop hang-out area she and her bandmates put together once she left her boyfriend and his place, recuperated on Zondra's couch, and she found this place. "I am gonna move out of my childhood home where I live with my sister and her boyfriend and buy something just like this." A miserable look crossed his features then as he twisted up his face in a wince. "And I just told a super cool, gorgeous woman who's the lead singer of a badass heavy metal band that I live with my sister and her boyfriend in the house I grew up in. Ahhhh…"

Sarah laughed, squeezing his shoulder again. "Don't be embarrassed on my account. Please. If my grandma hadn't dropped a multigenerational-old-money fortune in my lap, I would still be bouncing around apartments and working at a record store in WeHo for pennies. Shit's hard."

"It's this whole adulting thing. Why do we do this to ourselves?" He shrugged dramatically, both arms out, throwing them up. "We could all be having fun, rocking in super rad bands, or watching said super rad bands rock," he gestured to himself, "playing video games, reading comic books, having Star Trek marathons, taking cool trips… But no, we have to pay rent and bills and take care of our dumb cars and stick money in smart places like…investing, blegh."

She found herself giggling at his antics, propping her chin in her palm again. His sense of humor swung between quietly self-deprecating to a wryness that somehow still felt kind, and then there was the unfiltered silliness he displayed when he was recording Games N Rock Sessions with his best friend. It fascinated her, and it felt good sitting here with him.

Sarah realized she was having fun. She was enjoying herself. And she hadn't really known what to expect when he asked if they could go somewhere and talk.

And then something he'd just said settled in her brain and she tilted her head. "You just say comic books and Star Trek?"

Chuck pursed his lips. And then he sighed, seeming resigned. "I'm choosing to embrace who I am."

She raised her eyebrows with a soft, "What?"

"Sorry. It—Therapy. My, um, therapist told me to think that phrase when I'm experiencing embarrassment or shame that has to do with the things that make me…erm, me. That make me who I am. It's actually super helpful which is why I got to a point where she graduated me outta therapy. Huzzah." He punched his fist up, and then he cleared his throat, his eyes darting away. He looked like he was second guessing saying what he'd just said.

Sarah wanted to put that to rest as soon as possible.

"Congrats on graduating. I've never been to therapy even though there's a good chance I've needed it for various things throughout my life…and still, I know it isn't easy to get to a point where your therapist says, 'you're fine, I'll stop taking money from you now.'"

He laughed and nodded. "Sorry, though. I shouldn't be blabbing about therapy and that shit about Jill. I just met you."

"I don't think there are rules here," she said, shaking her head. "And I'm enjoying talking to you, just the way you are." She winked when he sent her a questioning look. "See what I did there?"

"I do. I do see what you did there." He beamed. "Well played."

"Thank you." She giggled.

"And for the record…ahem. I'm a big comic book fan, big Star Trek fan. Star Wars too but there's so much more of Star Trek out there, and it's older, so when you marathon that, it tends to really be, like, a huge marathon. You're in it for long haul." Chuck snorted, widening his eyes.

Sarah made a face. "Oof. Yeah, okay. I can't say the same for myself. But you'd get along super well with Mac and Dylan. I think they like Star things. Don't remember which one, though. They're kind enough not to involve me and Rizzo in their geek-out fests because they know we have no interest."

He chuckled. "Okay, you're telling me to hit up your…" He paused. "Okay, all three of those names are androgynous so I can't match them up with your bandmates, I'm sorry, I was gonna try," he rushed out.

She found she loved the honesty, even if some of it caught her off-guard. Maybe she liked being caught off-guard when it was by a guy who was actually kind and sweet, and not a toxic entitled brute.

"Shit, you're right." Sarah cracked up. "They're all androgynous names. Well, Rizzo is her last name. Zondra is her first. I call her everything under the sun though. She's interchangeably our rhythm or lead guitarist depending on the song, and same with Dylan. They switch off. He plays keyboard and sings lead sometimes."

"Guy with the beautiful hair. If I tried to grow my hair out like that to braid it, I'd have a curly mullet. Barf."

She laughed. "Hey, you have different hair but it's beautiful too. In its own way." And without thinking, she reached over and felt his curls between her fingers. Soft and silky, even with the product he'd attempted to fix it with. That was an interesting development. She wanted to do it again as she pulled her hand back into her lap but she decided she'd better not with the look he was giving her.

He was tossing her a dreamy look, a crooked half-smile, and she thought she'd better not chance opening a door like that just yet. Not yet anyway.

"Uh, and…then there's Mac, our drummer. Wonderful man, perfect, hot, well-adjusted, nice, everything a girl like me could ever want…" He raised his eyebrows, his Adam's apple bobbing as he swallowed hard. "And definitely not for me. Or, really, any girl."

"Wh—Oh!" Chuck's eyes popped as he figured out. The way he reacted next would determine if she kept sitting here with him or found a way to weasel out of it, with—she realized suddenly—a really deep and unyielding disappointment in her gut. "You mean he's gay," Chuck reasoned. "Took me a second. Cool."

And that was that.

He didn't even blink.

Cool.

Smiling harder than she had all night, she nudged his foot with hers again. "So? Now you know all my bandmates, you should probably know Mac's the one who discovered your show first. Then Dylan fell into it. And I guess even Zondra has watched it. I was the only oddball."

"Oh no. Please don't wince like that, like it's something to be embarrassed about. You've got your sights set on stardom where your band is concerned, you've got other priorities, and I do not expect someone like you to pay attention to a…fuggin' Twitch channel that's about video games." He reached out his hand and gently put it on her wrist. "That is not an expectation, okay?"

"Okay. Thanks for being so understanding about it. I've watched them now though and I get the appeal."

He froze.

"You, uh… Um, huh? So…like, in the archive? You went back and watched…" He cleared his throat. "Okay, for the first time since we started live streaming, I suddenly feel very self-conscious about all of the things I know I have done for the Twitch." He seemed to almost go pale, his jaw slack. "They're all flashing in front of my eyes. The hot sauce challenge. The drag episode…"

Sarah sat up, alert. "There's a drag episode? Okay, now I have to—"

"No, please. Dear lord. Please don't go looking for that one. I lost a bet with Morgan and I am not a pretty girl. I promise you. I'm no Swayze. I looked so bad."

She laughed, shaking her head. "Because you didn't have the proper makeup technique down, cutie. I have friends. Mac's got a whole crew of drag queen pals who can teach you how to do it right next time."

"Wow. Okay. Well, if Morgan whoops my ass at Tekken again, I will reach out to Mac and see if his friends can make me look better. I was a fucking mess. Ellie took one look at me, burst into gut-busting laughter, and said I was a lost cause, there was nothing she could do for me. She refused to give me makeup tips."

Sarah was cracking up, crossing her arms. She was admittedly caught off-guard again. This man was both so comfortable in his own skin and also not at the same time. She couldn't figure it out. "Well, please don't be self-conscious about your Twitch channel and what you've done on it. Okay? I laughed a lot watching you two bozos. It's really sweet how much you guys care about each other."

"And fight over video games?"

"Yeah, that part gets…serious, doesn't it? It's a little concerning."

"We'd never kill each other over video games, don't worry. We just say it because it feels good at the time." He brushed his hand through the air with a pffft. "The games go off and we're totally good." He paused. "Well, usually. One time, Morgan didn't talk to me for an hour. A whole hour. He got over it after that hour."

"He needed some space."

"Right," he chuckled. Then he lifted his hand to the back of his head and scratched, shifting his weight as if nervous. "You didn't…by any chance…watch any of the, um, recent…I mean, the live stream from, uh…" He rubbed his hands up and down his pants.

"Oh. You're talking about the episode when you called me a sorceress?"

Even with nothing but moonlight out here on the roof of her warehouse, she could see him blushing. He groaned, burying his face in his hands. "I said all that stuff assuming you wouldn't be watching. Because of course a super cool, super hot woman like the lead singer of Critical Hellfire would have way better things to do. It didn't even occur to me you'd ever hear that, holy shit."

And that made it all the better, didn't it?

"I recognized you at Mosh Mansion the other night," she laughed. "I said something like, 'hey, aren't you that guy from the Twitch channel with the video games and heavy metal?' I don't remember what I said exactly, but what makes you think I wouldn't watch if I knew who you were?"

"Shit, that's a good point. I'm so embarrassed. I can't believe you heard all of that. I was so…"

He seemed to search for the right word, misery etched over every bit of his attractive features. Now that she'd been sitting here talking to him, watching the way he used his whole face, showed everything, revealed what he was thinking and feeling in his eyes, his mouth…she could admit he was actually very attractive. He was downright handsome. And she was not prepared for the night to go in this direction.

"You were so sweet," she filled in for him, smiling softly.

Chuck blushed again. "Sweet? Uy. Great. Thank you. Thanks for makin' me sound like I'm eight."

A bubbly giggle erupted from her chest. "No, I don't mean it like that. I'm serious. Nobody's ever talked about me as a musician like that. Everybody says the 'she's a babe' shit."

She was very aware of her looks. She'd played with a girl group for a few months when she was seventeen and they took her under their wing, showed her what to wear to emphasize her figure, helped her figure out makeup, how to style her hair, working on her posture. She never looked back once she realized people looked at her differently. Claudia, the lead singer, had told her it wasn't just the fact that she learned how to make herself look hotter—"that shit's not important"—it was about self-confidence. Did she feel better in these clothes? Did she feel like she was putting energy into herself, looking in the mirror feeling like she could do anything? Yes? Then there it was. The point of all of it.

"I just called you hot." He winced.

"Oh, I heard that," she chirped. And she leaned forward to play with one of his curls. She couldn't help flirting with him. "Thank you." She grinned. He blushed again and she loved it. She pulled her hand back and folded it with the other in her lap. "You called me powerful, Chuck."

He cleared his throat. She watched as he spread one of his hands open wide and cutely thumped it against his knee a few times. "You are. That's why I said it."

"Enigmatic? Wild? I don't remember your exact words but that shit about not wanting to stick it in a bottle to capture it forever and instead you just wanna watch it happen, watch it explode?"

Chuck blushed harder, nodding slowly, pointedly not looking at her.

She clamped her hand down on his shoulder nearest her and squeezed, forcing his gaze up to hers. Uh oh… Sarah bit her lip, very aware of the way her heart was thumping madly in her chest. "I'm not bringing it up to embarrass you, I promise. I just wanna say thank you. I mean it, nobody's ever talked like that about what I do. It's exactly what I want a Critical Hellfire performance to be. I wanna draw people in. I wanna make them feel crazy, adrenalized, like they're a part of us, like we're all sharing something. I wanna make people have fun." She said the last part a bit haltingly, realization in her: "I wanna be special."

"You did all of that. All of you did, but especially you. I felt all of that when I saw you perform at Mosh Mansion, and again tonight. Downstairs. And you are." She sent him a searching look. He clarified. "You are special."

"We still talking about the band?" she asked quietly, her heart racing again.

"Yep."

She cracked up again, her jaw falling open as he grabbed at her hands desperately. "I'm kidding! Just kidding! It's you," he chuckled.

And when he didn't immediately let go of her hands, she turned hers over and threaded their fingers. "You make me laugh."

Chuck shrugged, giving her a purposely dopey closed-mouth smile. "Yeeeeeah," he drawled. "Always the jester, never the knight. That's me."

"Uh huh, as if the jester can't do exactly what the knight does, except he doesn't need all that fancy armor 'n shit."

He gasped. "I like that a lot. That was very poetic. Well done, you."

Giggling, she noticed the way he stroked her hands with his thumbs, their fingers still interlocked. "Thanks very much. I'm team jester."

"I will take that win. And, um…" Chuck squirmed a bit. "Maybe I'll build off'a that and ask you a…question."

He seemed nervous suddenly, fidgeting a bit.

"Sure."

Chuck nodded, glancing away. And then he turned and looked right into her eyes. She held her breath, not ready for his gaze to be so piercing, so suddenly. "You think maybe I can call you sometime?"

A/N: Thanks for reading. Hope you enjoyed. More is coming soon.

-SC