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 even going to lie, this entire chapter is easily the hottest I think I've ever written Chuck Bartowski. Enjoy, those of you who are into men. Enjoy.
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.
Chuck Bartowski turned his car onto the small street outside of her warehouse and just like that, Sarah Walker went from a wonderful but admittedly overwhelmed kind of buzz to a bad mix of discomfort and annoyance, with a dose of worry.
Oh come on, not right now…
After he'd kissed her at the viewpoint, it felt like they were both very aware of the Moment (Trademark) that had occurred between them.
She didn't know how long they stood there with their arms wrapped around one another, eyes meeting, chests rising and falling together. But she eventually broke the gaze and they stepped back again. As one, they moved to the railing and stood there overlooking the view, listening to the waves below.
And when they eventually climbed into the car, Chuck had turned down the music and asked if they should maybe head back to avoid rush hour traffic. She'd agreed readily, and the drive had been quiet, though not silent. He'd commented drily on the fact that there was still traffic in spite of the time, of course, though it hadn't been that bad. And she'd made fun of the idiots "in their little zoom-zoom mobiles" racing each other around the rest of the cars.
But the fact was that the electricity was still running between them like a wild current. She felt him radiating it and she knew she was radiating it back. Her lips still tingling. Her body abuzz.
And it felt like neither of them really knew what to do about it.
She was unfamiliar with the sensation of not knowing what to do in a situation. Unfamiliar with being on her toes. Unfamiliar with not being in control.
If she lost control in a situation with a man she was dating, or if she lost control while on a date with a man, she walked away and cut her losses. She refused to be caught in something she couldn't get out of.
And now she saw that one of those men in question was currently standing at the large sliding door she and her band left locked from the inside and padlocked on the outside thank God.
His hand was up and he was pounding on it with an open palm.
He'd already done this before, only she'd been inside then and she'd ignored it. No wonder he seemed to be smacking it even harder. He thought he was being ignored again. And she would be ignoring him again if she was inside, so.
Alas, she was here, in this car, with her date for fuck's sake. And she couldn't ignore this. She bit her lip and willed herself to have the same energy she'd had the first time she'd walked away from him.
But holy shit, this was the worst God damn timing ever. She was all too aware of the man still slowly guiding his car towards her warehouse. The extremely good man. Who had given her the best date of her life, let alone first date. Oh shit, what was this going to be? What would happen? What would this jackass she thought she'd gotten rid of do now?
And would this first incredible date be the last one because of whatever it was he decided to do?
"Chuck?" Sarah asked, reaching over to squeeze his arm. "Pull up to the curb here."
"There's parking right in front of—"
"No, I know. Please."
She didn't have to ask again. He parked against the curb immediately. "You okay?"
Sarah let out a rough breath. "I need to deal with this situation."
"Situation?" He turned off his car, then spun to look towards the warehouse. He must've spotted Christian at the warehouse door because he asked, "Who's he?"
"Um." She was deeply mortified and pissed off. Why now? He couldn't have shown up to do this shit on any other day, at any other time? This was so embarrassing. And now Chuck would get a front row seat to just how low she'd allowed herself to reach in the pool of men to date in the past.
Christian wasn't even that far in her past. She couldn't even use that as an excuse. I was younger then wouldn't cut it with this bastard. She wasn't that much younger then. And Christian was also just volatile enough to be a wildcard in this situation.
And now he'd turned from the door to spot the new car parked against the curb on the opposite side of the street. He had to know it was her. This freaking dickhead always had an internal radar or something about where she was that was honestly kind of creepy now that she had hindsight. And if that creepy radar wasn't working, he demanded to know where she'd been. Every second of every day when she wasn't with him, he needed to know who she was with, where, why, when, how.
"That's Christian," she finally said in the silence, watching her trope-ishly muscle-bound, six-foot, leather jacket, tight jeans, and boots wearing ex slowly move away from the door to stand at the edge of the curb, watching them with a scowl on his face. He'd let his hair grow out more in the months since she was with him. And he'd put on weight, and seemed a bit more disheveled than usual. He'd been a sort of…calculated disheveled she'd found attractive when she first met him. Like a fool.
But she refused to take responsibility for whatever it was he was going through now. Like Chuck, she'd cut herself off from the abusive, controlling situation. For her own health. And it had improved her health, too.
"I used to date that," she muttered.
"Oh. An ex? Oh, joy," he murmured wanly. "Are those muscles or is that the jacket?" she heard him add under his breath, and she wasn't sure she was supposed to hear that so she pretended she didn't.
"All you need to know is that I broke up with him almost a year ago and, like your issue with that…Jill girl last night…he apparently feels the need to show up at my fucking home on a Monday fucking afternoon with his chest all puffed up," she finished through gritted teeth.
"You want me to start the car again and get us outta here for a bit 'til he leaves?"
She shook her head, as tempting of an offer as that was. "No, I want to be able to go into my fucking home without Christian's bastard ass scaring me away from it. He's had way, way too much control for way, way too long. I'm not letting him do this to me anymore." She opened the car door, making to get out, but then she turned to glance at Chuck with a miserable and apologetic look. "You can stay in the car if you're more comfortable."
"Oh, I'm not staying in the car."
He said it with an immediacy and a vehemence she wasn't expecting…even if she maybe should have expected it.
Men.
Though that wasn't fair at all.
These were two very different men in fundamental and very important ways.
And so, they both climbed out of the car, shutting their doors behind them. And to Chuck's credit, he hung back to let Sarah have a large lead crossing the street, walking a bit more slowly, but remaining a sturdy presence a few feet behind her.
"What the hell are you doing here, Christian?"
She made her voice forceful right off the bat. She wasn't giving him any quarter here. She was done with this nonsense.
"Who's that?" was all he responded with, that deep scowl on his face as he gestured toward Chuck behind her. The same scowl she'd seen after an impromptu band practice, the jealousy he always harbored towards Dylan and even Mac, in spite of him being gay. You spend more time with them than you do with me.
Pissed off all over again, she pulled her shoulders back and shifted a bit in front of Chuck.
"It's none of your business," she snapped.
"You never said shit about the flowers I sent you." At least he pivoted away from the other man standing behind her.
"What don't you understand about 'It's over' that almost a year later you're trying to send me flowers and showing up at my home unannounced?"
"I made a mistake. I told you, Sar. I lost my way. I've been struggling. But I'm getting it all back, I'm on a better path. I did-I did that therapy thing. I mean, just the one session, but I did it."
"Why are you telling me that? I'm not a part of your life anymore and you aren't a part of mine."
"That's because you never let me!" he argued. "I want to do that now, though. The flowers were—I was making up for it. I've been trying to make up for it this whole time. I don't like not having my girl around. I told that therapist lady that and she said I was dependent. You made me dependent."
Sarah's jaw fell open. "I made you—No, I'm not having a conversation with you about your therapist you saw for one fucking session. We aren't doing this. I have a life, I'm going in a direction, and you aren't ever going to be part of that direction."
"Why? Sar. Baby. I made a mistake. That's all it was. A mistake."
"I'm the one whomade a mistake when I allowed myself to get tangled up with you. I can't deal with you right now. Actually, you know what? Strike that. I can't deal with you ever again. Please just get outta here. Preserve whatever dignity is even left here and go."
"I'm gonna ask again, I guess, since you haven't answered. Who's this joker?"
He was completely ignoring her, or simply not listening. And that was sort of the basis of their six month long relationship, wasn't it? She could still feel the thrill of throwing the shit he'd brought into her loft when he semi-moved in (without asking if he could) off of the balcony as he stood below gaping up at her, the satisfying crunch of it crashing into the pavement below as he yelled shrilly up at her.
"I'm—"
"It isn't your business," Sarah cut in, turning to send Chuck an apologetic look for cutting him off.
Christian chuckled, a tinge of rage at the edge of it. "Wow. I see how it is now. I was too much man for ya, eh? You had to hop into the lap of this beanpole who still takes orders from Mommy. Question. Is he man enough to handle you? You're a lot to handle, firecracker," he flirted, using the term he used to use in the beginning when things weren't so sour between them.
"Fuck you," she said calmly, but then Chuck was at her shoulder.
"Okay then, talk to me, dude," her date cut in. He raised his voice just slightly, stepping up next to her, his arm brushing hers. "What do you have to say?"
Oh, boy.
"You don't have to—" she tried, one hand on his arm, but he sent her a subtle look out of the corner of her eye and she cut herself off. That look he sent her made her think that maybe she didn't have to worry about him here. Like maybe he had control over this and knew what he was doing. And she decided to let him do whatever it was he was he thought he was doing, and maybe she didn't have to protect him from the hulking ex still standing on the curb glaring.
Christian stayed on the curb, she did notice. It kept him closer to Chuck's height, where the curly-haired man who'd just handed her one of the best days of her life had about four inches on him, even if his muscles didn't have muscles the way Christian's did.
But her ex did move to the edge of the curb, trying to be menacing, puffing up his chest ridiculously, raising his chin, his lip curled.
"Why don't we handle this like real men? Come over here and let me kick your ass."
Chuck made a face. "For what?"
Christian blinked, losing some of the bravado, genuinely confused. "…What?"
"Kick my ass for what reason?"
Well. This was an interesting turn of events.
Christian seemed to not expect it either. But then again, he palled around with the kinds of douchebags who got wasted at bars, stepped outside together, and brawled.
Over literally nothing.
One of them laughed at the wrong time, that was it. 'Let's take this outside', and then he'd show up again with a bloody lip or black eye. For no reason.
Chuck continued when Christian didn't seem to have a response.
"Like, you have to understand that you sound like a thirteen year old moronic bully."
The beefcake bristled visibly, his green eyes getting big and enraged.
"I said fight me!" he barked.
"I said no," Chuck responded immediately. His tone had a calmness to it that she knew would get deep under the other man's skin.
Christian scoffed, taking a step back. And he turned to Sarah, gesturing at Chuck. "You're hearing this, right? Not even man enough to fight for you. Is this the kind of shit you're going for these days? Fuck, you've fallen far without me around, haven't you?"
"She could literally plummet from the stratosphere at light speed and she wouldn't come anywhere close to how low you are right now, my guy," Chuck said easily. "And what's sad is this is your starting point. You started out here, at this extremely low point. Which means you could somehow get even lower than this if you don't just walk back to your car and drive away. Right now. Which I suggest you do."
Sarah knew for a fact he could.
When she'd refused to tell him where Critical Hellfire was performing one night and he'd lost his head so badly that he'd raised a hand to strike her. Like she was one of the guys at the club who'd stepped wrong, like he wanted to see her eye black and blue to feel bigger, better than he felt when he didn't have control over her.
She'd grabbed it, twisted his arm behind his back, slammed him into the wall, and told him to get the fuck out of her life. She'd half thrown him down the outside stairs of her loft. And then his shit went flying off the balcony too.
That had been that.
Well, for her.
Apparently not for him. He went to a therapy session for her since then. Wow.
"You act like you want to get the shit beaten out of you," Christian snarled.
"Annnnd there it is," Chuck murmured to Sarah, shaking his head sadly. "Even lower."
"Shut the fuck up, you little shit. I'm gonna tear you limb from limb." Christian stepped closer again, right at the edge of the curb.
Chuck stayed put, not even flinching, merely looking at him, completely unfazed.
She decided to step in. "Christian, get the hint and get out of here. Seriously. What do you think you're gonna accomplish putting on this stupid show? I'm not impressed. I think you look like a dumbass."
"A desperate dumbass," Chuck mumbled.
"Why won't you fight me?" the other man roared.
Chuck seemed unable to keep from laughing a little. "It's the dumbest thing I can possibly think of to solve this non-issue. I don't know you, man. I'm sad for you. I just went on an incredible date, though. I'm not ruining it by trying to fight some random fuckin' guy I don't even know on this sad little curb for some fuckin' reason I don't even know what it is. What a waste of time and effort." Chuck shrugged. "Get a life."
Sarah watched Chuck closely, and she felt something stirring in her gut. Actually, as he casually stared her ex down without flinching or showing even a speck of anger or jealousy, that stirring sensation started moving even lower than her gut.
"Hear that, Sar? Defending you is a waste of time and effort. He said that about you," Christian tried. He looked at her imploringly. "I don't think that. You know I'd defend you with my life." Oh God, the way he used to say shit like that and she thought it was a healthy thing for a boyfriend to say. Pathetic. She'd been pathetic too for allowing it to seem right…for thinking it sounded okay. Rather than…ugh, pathetic.
"First of all, you're so genuinely inconsequential to this fantastic fuckin' day we just had," Chuck said, gesturing between Sarah and himself, "there's nothing to defend. Defend what? When you get into your little fuckin'…" He paused, glancing to the side at Christian's car, "Dodge Charger and go home, we're gonna forget about you, about all of this nonsense you tried to stir up, and move on with our day like it never happened."
Oh, shit.
She could feel herself staring at him. And God, her heart was racing.
"That's how inconsequential you are, my dude. And secondly, if anyone can defend their own shit from someone like you, it's Sarah. I'm one hundred percent positive she would kick your ass a lot easier than I would and I'm fine standing by and watching her do it, but I don't think you want that smoke, bro."
Sarah Walker was beside herself. She had her hand over her mouth, a gleeful grin stretching across her face, and she was barely holding back a giggly outburst. She was afraid if she didn't hold it back, it would trigger something in Christian and he'd tackle Chuck to the ground. He was strong, his muscles didn't lie, and she really didn't want Chuck to get hurt. He didn't seem like the type of guy who got into fights ever. And that wasn't anything she'd ever judge him over, either. He was a fucking grown up. Thank God.
A grown fucking man. And at the moment, she was very seriously thirsting for this emotionally mature grown fucking man. She felt it everywhere. The thirst was intense, actually.
Christian's eyes darted to her and he clenched his jaw, switching his weight.
"Or…maybe you've already tasted that smoke and you don't want it again?" Chuck winced. "Ouch, man. I think it's best you get outta here now while you have even a modicum of dignity left. If that."
"Fuck you!" Christian snarled, pointing in Chuck's face. This time Chuck did flinch a little. She didn't blame him for it, that finger came close to his nose. Christian turned on Sarah then. "And fuck you, Sarah Walker. Have fun with your weak bitch over here. If you miss having a real man around, don't come crawling back to me. I'm done. You blew it."
And still, he was backing towards his car, as if trying to hide the tail tucked between his legs.
"I see you in public, mother fucker, and I'll beat your ass," he growled at Chuck, pointing at him even as he retreated.
"Okaaaay, thanks so muuuuch, bye noooow," Chuck sang, waving saccharinely.
The Charger roared to life, Christian revved the engine he and his brother probably fixed up to be extra loud (it was compensation, she had first-hand knowledge of that), and he tore off, swirling the car in a U-Turn, and slamming his foot on the pedal to speed away, screeching around the corner.
She felt like she was holding her breath as the loud angry buzzing of Christian's car got softer and softer and softer, finally fading to nothingness.
Sarah was embarrassed, she realized, as she slowly turned to face Chuck. But more than anything, she was sure she'd never been this turned on in her life. And she didn't know if it was showing on her face, or if he even noticed, because Chuck was slumped forward with his hands braced on his knees, laughing breathlessly, relief in his face.
"H'oohhh my Godddd! H'oh wow!"
He straightened to his full height and shook out his arms, hopping in place a little. Absolutely fucking adorable.
"I can't believe I pulled that off. I was so sure he was gonna kick my ass at numerous points in that convo. Holy shit. I'm buzzing. I have so much adrenaline. Phewwww…" Then he turned to look at her, and the grin on his face dimmed, his handsome features becoming sheepish as something seemed to occur to him. The possibility that maybe that hadn't been as good for her as it had been for him, perhaps? But oh. Oh, it had been good. Definitely better for her than it had been for him. He had no idea.
"Sarah. Um, listen, I'm…" His voice faded, as if he didn't know how to say what he had to say.
"What?" she asked, half-whispering because she didn't trust her voice at the moment.
He swallowed hard.
"I know any other guy would've jumped to your rescue and maybe would've…I dunno, fought the asshole for saying those things to you. But I'm not—That was just so fuckin' pathetic. And this day has been so good. Like, coming off of all of the stuff we shared on this fantastic date and actually trying to fight your ex? It just felt so…stupid and pointless. It felt like it'd cheapen this whole day if I did that for such a worthless reason. That was the most immature shit I've seen in a while and I worked at the Burbank Buy More with two guys named Jeff and Lester and lemme just tell—Oh. What're we—Where we goin'?"
Sarah'd had enough.
She grabbed his hand, stepped around him, and marched him around the side of the warehouse to the metal staircase that led up to her loft's main door.
"Upstairs," she said, breathless. She literally had an unrelenting buzz in a very uncomfortable place and she needed that taken care of. Stat.
"Oh. Uh, okay. But-but will you forgive me for not defending your—"
"Chuck?" She stopped at the top of the stairs, just outside of her door, and she turned to face him as he staggered onto the balcony with her. She grabbed his shoulders and looked in his eyes, everything in her alive. "I'm discovering very quickly that I have an emotional maturity kink and you, sir, just handed it to me all wrapped up in a pretty bow." She blindly stuck her key in the lock and turned it, popping the door open as Chuck's jaw fell to his feet, his cheeks turning a cute shade of red.
"Did you just send in my direction a sentence with the word 'kink' in it?" he asked her, his voice sounding like it was getting stuck in his throat.
"Yes, I did. And I'll do it again, too, if it means we get the show on the road. Are we going inside?"
"Yep."
And he lunged for her, his hands on her hips, backing her in through the door as she laughed. She kicked her door shut behind them, throwing the lock, and just like Chuck said would happen, what occurred out on the curb below flew out of both of their minds.
}o{
Chuck shifted a bit, almost immediately aware even in his state of half-sleep that this wasn't his bed. And he knew as he opened his eyes and spotted the gorgeous chandelier drooping down over the bedroom, the diamond-shaped patterns on the off-white duvet covering his body, that he was in Sarah Walker's bed.
Ho-ly shit.
Wait, had he fallen asleep? He'd fallen asleep after they'd had sex, right?
He thought he had. Crap. That'd be mortifying if not.
The late afternoon light was oh so slowly drifting through the giant warehouse windows that lined the walls of her loft, creating orange patterns against her furniture. He spotted a familiar shadow plastered against the opposite wall, then, and he turned to peer at its owner, standing at one of the windows, looking out with her arms crossed, one of her long, naked legs popped as she leaned her hip against the window frame.
The late afternoon sunlight played against her face, too.
She was stunning.
Easily the best thing to wake up to.
He slowly crawled up to lean back against the headboard, the sheets pooling at his waist. Only then did he realize he wasn't wearing a thing. He flushed red, looking around the room for something, anything, he could put on.
Their clothes were literally scattered in her loft. They'd left a line from her front door so that by the time they fell into her bed, there was nothing left to remove and they could dive in headfirst. No pausing. No procrastinating.
Even now, he was having a hard time breathing thinking about the last however many hours they'd spent tangled together. Best of his life and nothing else came anywhere close.
"Well, he's awake."
Chuck turned to look at Sarah, blinking tiredly, but a grin stretched over his face crookedly at seeing her delicious smile directed at him. She pushed away from her perch and walked closer, her hips swaying a bit as she moved, covered by nothing but a pair of black boy shorts. She'd tossed his own button-up on over her top half, buttoning two of the middle buttons, rolling up the sleeves a few times to make it fit.
He was in love with the look. And he was scared to let that thought proceed further.
She must've noticed he was looking at it because as she crawled onto the bed over him, her knees straddling his over the duvet, leaning in to give him a slow, open-mouthed kiss, she began to unbutton it, opening it to reveal her bare chest to his gaze.
Sarah broke the kiss. "Hope it's okay I'm wearing this. You can tell me if it isn't and I'll take it right off."
He giggled stupidly. "Now that's a damned if I do, damned if I don't sort of situation. Totally not fair."
She beamed affectionately. "Smart man. What I'm getting from your response is you like me in your shirt…"
"Mhmmm," he hummed, kissing her chin.
"But you also want me to take it off."
"Mmmmmmhm." He kissed her neck this time.
Sarah grinned with her tongue between her teeth, blue eyes sparkling, her hair spilling all over her shoulders in gorgeous blond waves after he'd asked in the middle of sex if he could take her hair out of the braid. He'd wanted to feel it between his fingers, wrapped in his fists.
She'd agreed, and she'd even let him do it, giggling at how meticulously he unbraided it, and he'd defensively told her he didn't want to pull her hair, to which she'd breathlessly responded, "I appreciate that a lot."
Sarah took the shirt off now and dropped it over the side of the bed. So he was done thinking back to what had happened earlier because this was happening now.
Chuck lunged for her, making her squeal and throw her head back with a cackle as he turned them both over and pinned her to the bed.
The sun was almost completely set by the time they came back up for air again, Chuck's impromptu nap giving him plenty of energy to continue things just as before. Only this time, things had become a little more frenzied, the need spilling over, unbridled.
Sarah's chin was propped on the crook of his shoulder, her breasts pressed into his back, one of her legs trapped between both of his as he draped himself over her mattress on his stomach. The duvet was somewhere on the floor, the sheets tangled about their feet.
Their right hands were threaded together over the pillow, her palm blanketing his knuckles, fingers intertwined. And Sarah was using the pointer finger of her left hand to draw little patterns on the part of his back she wasn't splayed out on.
He'd turned his head to the right so that he could at least sort of look into her face. He had to strain his eyes a little but it was worth it. She was so beautiful bedraggled and satisfied.
Chuck sighed, the events of the day all crawling into his brain at the same time. Unfortunately, the one thing that stood out was something he thought they hadn't really…clarified or talked over at all. The reappearance of her ex. And yes, he'd used the fact that they'd forget about him immediately upon his leaving to mock the asshole, and now Chuck was freaking dwelling on it anyway.
But it was bothering him a little.
"What?" He raised an eyebrow at her cute little tired muttering. "You did a sigh that felt like you're thinking about something. What're you thinking about?" she clarified. She stopped drawing a pattern and instead slid her hand around his side to tuck under his front and she squeezed his waist reassuringly. "You can tell me."
Chuck sighed again.
He knew she might be annoyed but he said it anyway. "I know you said the thing about your emotional maturity kink, but I, uh, I'm sorry I wasn't more of a knight in shining armor. I mean with…the guy. The Christian guy." He winced. "That made him sound like he goes to church on Sundays and sometimes on Wednesday nights." She laughed, rolling her eyes. He felt it reverberate through his back and he liked it. "The guy named Christian," he clarified. "Fighting is stupid, I know, but I still feel like I could've at least, I dunno. I dunno what I'm saying."
He chuckled self-deprecatingly.
She hummed out a one syllable giggle, pursing her lips. She pressed those lips to his shoulder, scooting up a bit on his body. He barely bit back a groan. He'd felt all of that everywhere. But he was truly spent for the moment. "Not to sound all patronizing or anything, but I think what this is…?" She paused, squeezing his hand under hers. "…is a good guy who did the smart thing, the adult thing, voicing concerns that he didn't do the macho immature overprotective guy thing because for your whole life society's been shoving that toxic masculinity bullshit down your throat the way it has for the rest of us. Some people get swept up by it—for instance, fucking Christian—and some people spend their whole lives fighting it. That's you, Chuck." She stretched to kiss his cheek this time, settling with her face even closer to his this time. "You won today. Toxic masculinity crashed and burned."
Oh, that felt pretty good actually. He smiled up at her. "Will you forgive me for worrying you'd resent me because I didn't do the—how'd you put it?—macho immature overprotective guy thing when he tried to get me to fight 'im?"
"Yes," she giggled. "You don't need my forgiveness. I mean, look at me. I dated that gross shit because I thought it was…I dunno, at worst, I thought it was attractive. At best, I didn't see much wrong with it because I thought that was just…what guys were so I stayed around it."
"I'm not in a place to judge you for that. You met Jill. The less muscly, less FIGHT ME version of Christian."
That made her laugh again, and she stroked her fingers up his back, along his left shoulder, making him shiver as she buried them in his curls.
Oh, that felt incredibly good. He hummed happily, his eyes slipping shut, and she giggled just as happily.
"You know what?" she prompted then, nudging him with her hips.
"M'What?"
"Knights in shining armor rarely survive the stories that stand the test of time. AKA the really good stories. I'm talkin' medieval fables, Shakespeare. I'm not some lit major or whatever, but I've read all that stuff. At least enough of it to know that the jester is always the one who stays alive when the rest of the characters end up dead. Because they're smart, they observe, they stay out of the fray. They see the logical pathways and take them while everyone else allows their emotions to take over and make them act violently. I'm still team jester."
He chuckled, turning over onto his back as she shifted to let him, and he adored that she slid right back down against him again. He wrapped his arms around her and hugged her close, just letting himself feel her, the way she dotted kisses along his collarbone.
"Thank you for saying all of that. And I'm sorry you had that in your life."
"Kinda my own fault," she said with a small shrug. "I picked the guys I dated. Eyes wiiiide open," she drawled. "The more manipulative, possessive, toxic…the better." She winced then, pushing up to prop herself on one elbow. "That isn't fair. I didn't pick them because they were shitty. I guess I was just in a headspace romantically where that's what I thought…I thought that was all there was," she amended. "You know? You surround yourself with enough duds, you date enough duds, you don't think anything but duds exist."
Chuck just nodded up at her, not sure what else to say to that. He saw the logic. "You deserve so much better than duds," he finally said, deciding to just let his mouth go off. What did he have to lose? She seemed to welcome the stuff he had to say so far.
She bit her lip, smiling around it, glancing to the side shyly. "Maybe I do. But down where I've been existing since I was a kid, all we had were duds. Those really special girls who got straight-As, were on sports teams, didn't have braces, came from families who…cared about them…those girls got the non-duds. The few non-duds there were." She groaned, looking embarrassed. "Sorry. I sound so self-pitying. I don't mean to sound this way. Really."
"No, you don't. You don't." He shook his head. "I'm a big ol' nerd who is currently lying in the bed of the raddest fuckin' woman ever, who is this insane singer and bassist, who is funny and sweet, who is also stunning levels of beautiful. You think I go through my life thinkin' I deserve this?" He gestured to her. "Abso-fuckin'-lutely not."
"You finagled things so that I could basically hold a sea otter's hand today, Bartowski. You definitely deserve a lot more than this for that alone. And if you think I'm done with you, you've got another thing comin'," she sang in a delicious growl, moving in to bite his jaw.
The chills that sent through him…
Oh, he was in deep trouble.
Sinking so fast.
Falling even faster.
A/N: I AM ALSO TEAM JESTER.
Thanks for reading. Please review if you're able to.
-SC