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: It took a bit longer for this to get out because THE WORLD CUP IS HAPPENING AND FOR A WHOLE MONTH THIS WILL BE MY ENTIRE PERSONALITY NOT SORRY. Thanks to those of you reviewing, I really appreciate your kind words about this fic. I wasn't expecting it to get this much attention because it's a path that isn't really tread at all in the Chuck fandom. So it means a lot that some of you are reading it anyway even if you aren't gamers or metal heads. Enjoy this one!

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.

She peered up at him over her authentic Northern Italian spaghetti, sucking one of the noodles through her pursed mouth, her tongue darting out to taste the tangy sauce on her lips.

He must've felt her gaze on him because he glanced up from his own dish, smiling at her. She smiled back.

And then she laughed when he lifted his fork with a noodle trapped on the end of it and drawled, "Penne for your thoughts?"

"You freaking dork. That was terrible. Did you have that one in your pocket this whole time?"

"Oh, definitely. Why do you think I got the penne?"

She laughed harder, shaking her head at him.

"No, really," he said, chuckling kindly. "You're sitting over there looking incredibly beautiful…" She gave him a warm look for that bit of sincerity. "But also like you're thinking about something." He popped the penne between his lips and chewed.

"Honestly? I know you were, like, super embarrassed by Morgan, your sister, her boyfriend."

He winced.

"Oh…yeah. Sorry about the antics. They like to torment me sometimes."

"No, don't apologize. I know you were…not having a great time. But don't be embarrassed on my account. It was kind of funny. Sweet." She probably deserved the flat look he sent her and she wrinkled her nose sheepishly. "Not that I find your suffering funny or anything. It's just that there was…" She paused, not sure how to say it. It was so different from her situation at home. Her homes, plural. "There was so much care between you all. Like, the teasing was because they adore you. I guess."

"Ah, yes. They torture me out of love. For sure."

She giggled. "I wonder if that's what family is…supposed to be like. Tormenting each other out of love."

He took a sip of his red wine and set the glass down again. "I don't know. I honestly don't know how things are supposed to be. My family is a strange little mish-mash of people who aren't all related but who are closer than a lot of nuclear-type families. In spite of everything that's happened in my life, I consider myself lucky to be a part of it."

In spite of everything…? She must've worn the question on her features because he made his mouth into a thin line and sighed.

"I guess you should know that it's just me and Ellie now. As-As far as the Bartowskis go, that is. I mean we've expanded our net, caught us a few extra members to pull into the fam. But I just mean, um, our parents aren't…around." He winced, as if he thought the way he'd phrased it wasn't sufficient.

"Oh. I sort of wondered. Maybe," she said, feeling lame as she twirled some spaghetti on her fork, not putting it in her mouth just yet. "Morgan talks about his mom when you guys are doing your show, but you never say anything about anybody but your sister." The sister who was in that photograph she found in his wallet the other day, the one she'd dwelled on, wondering if he still kept a picture of himself with an ex. The moment she saw Ellie Bartowski earlier tonight, she felt absolutely foolish.

"Right, yeah. We're living in our family home still because it's paid off. The mortgage, I mean. We own it. Well, technically Ellie owns it and she wrote me in. But I pay rent in the form of, like, utilities and electricity and the upkeep, groceries, et cetera."

She was admittedly overflowing with curiosity. Had they inherited the house after their parents passed away?

"We keep it pretty even," he continued hurriedly. "It's-It's not like I'm using my sister and her boyfriend to get a free ride or anything."

Sarah shook her head vehemently. "No, you're family. You two are obviously very close. I'm positive she doesn't see it that way, either. It's probably nice having each other so close by. Especially if your parents aren't…around. And it's just you two now."

He nodded. "Yeah."

Sarah let herself eat for a minute or so, enjoying her food, and then she peeked up at him again.

Chuck caught her and she saw a sparkle in his eye. "Penne for—"

"Don't say it again. I swear to God."

He cracked up and she giggled through her nose, pointing at him with her fork, beaming at him. She knew it. She knew he was going to try to say that shit again.

When they both sobered up a little, she caught his gaze, smiling softly. "You don't have to answer if you don't want to, or if it's hard to talk about. But what happened to them? Your parents."

"Ah. Them." He swallowed hard, playing with his food with the fork in his hand, clearing his throat, diverting his gaze again. "Those guuuys…" He let out a nervous little snicker. She wondered if being facetious, making little glib comments, moments of self-deprecation, were some kind of defense mechanism when he was feeling vulnerable, maybe even sad. A way of protecting himself from the worst sensations that came with that. She understood. She didn't make jokes to deflect. She just shut herself up in a tight fortress and then threw away the key. His was a lot healthier.

"You don't…have to…"

"No, no. It's okay. I want you to know. We can get this out of the way on the second date, and you can decide if I'm worth the stuff that goes with abandonment issues. Ha!" He squirmed uncomfortably as she glared a little.

That was definitely his defense mechanism. As if she'd hear an upsetting story about his parents and leave him sitting at the table alone. Ugh, not getting caught up in that mess. As if she hadn't dated guys who had big mommy issues, daddy issues, all the above, and take it out on other people, including her.

"Sorry." He cleared his throat. "They aren't dead or anything. My parents, I mean. At least, I don't think so. I guess there's no way for me to know really, it's been so long. Um, my mom left us when I was nine. Ellie was thirteen. Everything was fine one night, the next morning, she had her bags and stuff. I don't remember it very well. Or her, honestly. Ellie has it worse, she was older, in those pre-teen years, and she remembers all of it. She remembers our mom, too."

"She just…left?" What in the hell? How did someone do that? And then she thought of her own situation and she inwardly winced.

"Yeah. My dad told us over and over and over again that it was his fault, not ours. She left because of him, she didn't want to be with him anymore. But we weren't dumb enough to not wonder why she didn't take us with her if that was the case." He gave her a droll look. "Guess she just didn't want a family anymore. Or us. I don't know. That's for me and my therapist to figure out," he said with a snort.

Sarah set down her fork and reached across the table, picking up his hand and holding onto it tightly. His hurt amber-colored eyes swept up to meet her gaze, seeming surprised almost, and a warm smile spread over his lips. She didn't know what she could say to try to ease the hurt of having a parent just up and leave like that with no explanation. Just walking out on your kids like that. Shit.

"You seen her since?" she asked tentatively.

"No. That was it. Don't know where she is. No idea. Ellie went through a phase in her early twenties, trying to find her so we could confront her. No dice."

This was so hurtful. They both seemed like such good people as adults, she could only imagine they were just smaller, cuter versions of themselves as kids. How did someone abandon people like this?

Her dad climbing into his Chevy truck with a "See you soon, darlin'," knowing that he wasn't going to be back for a long, long time, or at least until he needed his "little sidekick" for a con? That sort of made more sense than this. Jack Burton was a phone call away. Usually. Unless he lost his phone again. And then she'd have to wait for him to inevitably call to ask for money, money he never let her forget was rightfully his even if her grandma refused to let him see any of it and gave it to her instead.

"Chuck, I'm so sorry."

"Hey, it's—Well, I was gonna say it's okay, but it's really not. I mean, I think we've both dealt with it as well as we can. We're surviving. We're fine. But what she did…isn't okay. Again…thank you, therapy."

"No, it wasn't okay. I don't know how someone could do that. I'm sure Ellie was a very sweet thirteen year old but you? God, I can't imagine how cute you must'a been at nine. These curls of yours and your big ol' grin."

Chuck blushed hard, letting out a cute giggle. "Ah yes. The braces on my teeth were rather fetching." She smiled at him and shook her head. "But apparently she didn't think so, at least not enough to stick around."

He ducked his head, cleared his throat suddenly and looked up at her again, his face ironed out, save a few wrinkles in his furrowed brow. "Anyway, my dad kind of dealt with it as well as he could for a short time and then he sort of started pulling into himself. He was taking it hard but trying not to show it. And then he gave up on that and started locking himself up in his office for hours at a time, days at a time. Then he went on these work trips. And the trips would get longer and longer and longer. Ellie and I were basically raising ourselves by the time I was twelve and she was sixteen. And then he stopped coming back from the work trips. And he'd send cards for holidays, birthdays. He signed the house over to Ellie when she turned twenty-one. We got the paperwork in the mail as a surprise one day. Quite the surprise. All of a sudden, she was a home owner, just trying to get through undergrad so she could get into UCLA med school."

Sarah felt herself gaping. "He just wordlessly gave her the family house?"

"Yeah. Our last indication that he didn't mean to come back ever. The cards stopped after that, too. Ellie thinks he decided he didn't want the responsibility either. Parenting's hard when there are two people working in a partnership, and when it's just you doing it all, that's no picnic. She thinks he couldn't cut it, or thought he couldn't, and cut himself off once he set us up to be able to survive on our own. Giving us the house and all that. But I think he thought we were better off without him. He must've really snapped after mom left us. And maybe he thought not being around whatever was happening with him made…me an' El safer. Maybe we'd have a healthier, happier path through life? I dunno." He chuckled bitterly. "I think sometimes I'm just a sap, always looking to give people the benefit of the doubt."

"I think you're much sweeter and kinder than I am, but I don't think that wanting to know someone did something out of…care and love, even if they did the wrong thing, makes you a sap. I don't blame you," she said, squeezing his hand. "I'm so sorry, though. I had no idea things were like that."

He shrugged. "I had Ellie. And Ellie had me. You have no idea how much that saved us."

"Well, I can tell you two are very close. And it's no wonder with how much you had to depend on one another."

"We made it through okay…"

"I'll say. When I get back to your house, I may just hug the crap out of your sister, because I have a sneaking suspicion she's a big reason why you are the way that you are. Which is to say, you're wonderful."

Chuck just looked back at her warmly, his cheeks pink. "Well…shucks." He squeezed her hand back. "I'll tell Ellie you said that and she'll bounce off the walls or something equally excited."

She giggled. "I like her already. And hey, she didn't do the thing you said she'd do when she met me."

"Oh, she did do it. But she waited 'til you weren't looking."

Sarah rocked back against her chair with a barked laugh. "Oh. Okay. That makes sense."

"Poor Awesome is probably chasing her around the house trying to get her to stop doing backflips." She laughed again at the image, and then it occurred to her they'd been sitting and enjoying their food and one another's company for a while, so she just checked her watch quickly. It was only seven.

"We've got time, don't worry. And it isn't like me an' Morgan have a boss. If we start late, nobody's gonna dock our pay." He winced. "Yet. Once this new…enterprise kicks off that might not be the case anymore."

"Ah, yes. Moving onto bigger things. It's what you two deserve. You've created a damn good show."

"Thank you," he chuckled. "Means a lot coming from someone as friggin' cool as you are."

"I'm friggin' cool, huh?" she flirted.

He sipped his wine and she picked up her own. "Uh, yeah. It's objective, too. Not even a subjective thing. Coolest person I've ever met. Easily."

"Well, I've got my flaws."

"Maybe. We all do."

She was surprised by that response. It was so honest, so lacking in the paltry insincere insistence that she was perfect, flawless, without faults. She'd gotten that sort of thing from guys in the past. And then they turned around and pilloried her about this and that and this problem she caused them and that other thing she did or said.

"Like my taste in men for instance?" she said meekly, a sheepish look on her face. "I'm not talking about you for the record."

"Oh ho ho. Give me time," he cut in, holding up a hand. And then he twisted up his face, shaking his head. "Sorry. Uh, pretend I didn't say that. That was dumb. I'm not…ever gonna treat you the way…"

He seemed not to want to finish that so she did it for him.

"…Christian treated me out in front of my warehouse?"

"Yeah. That. Fuck that mess."

"Unfortunately, that's the sort of mess I found myself gravitating towards for pretty much my whole dating life." She bit her lip then. "Except for you."

"Oh, I'm not…not a mess. Were you here for the whole My Parents Abandoned Me convo?"

"Well, maybe you're a mess. But you're a good guy. And you have a giant heart. I've never dated good guys with giant hearts before. Sure, sometimes they have moments, but moments of good don't make for a…good in general." She huffed, rolling her eyes. "I don't know what I'm saying."

"You're saying you have bad taste in men."

"Yeah, that's what I'm saying."

"Why?"

She raised her eyebrows. "What?"

He brushed his hand through the air. "Sorry. I'm sorry. I haven't earned being able to ask you that question."

"No, it's just not something…anyone's ever asked before. I mean, I've never had to try to find words for it," Sarah answered haltingly. Shit, she really hadn't ever had to try to explain it to anyone because no one had ever confronted her, had ever cared enough to ask.

And maybe that wasn't fair. She knew her bandmates in Critical Hellfire cared about her, but maybe they figured they'd just let her figure the dating shit out on her own because she was an adult. She knew they didn't like any of her exes that they met.

They'd all been tolerated at best, at worst, the disdain would show on her bandmates faces. And it was just…how things were to her addled brain. Her boyfriends weren't liked by her friends. Oh well.

"You don't have to try to find words for it now, either. It isn't my business."

She felt that he wasn't just saying that, either. She felt that he'd be understanding if she moved onto something else, changed the subject, diverted conversation away from her bad dating decisions.

And even while she mulled it all over, she heard herself mutter, "Well, I know this much. If I was as brave as you are and got myself a therapist, I'm pretty sure I know what they'd say to me about it."

He merely waited for her to continue, setting his wine glass down, his gaze resting on her patiently.

She wasn't sure what it was that had her opening up like a rose in spring. Maybe it was the romantic flickering light of the candle in the middle of their table, the dim lighting in the restaurant. Maybe it was the low, quiet voice of a woman singing "Bésame Mucho" coming from the speakers in the room. Maybe it was Chuck Bartowski himself, the way he was so amazing at listening without judging. Maybe it just felt good to say personal shit she usually kept all bottled up inside to someone who barely knew her, barely knew her life, her story, someone who she knew would receive it with sincere kindness. Somehow she knew that if she said it to him, it would land more gently than if she said it to anyone else.

Whatever it was, she opened her mouth and it all sort of…tumbled out, didn't it?

"My dad." Chuck sat up a bit straighter, eyebrows raised. "Yeah, yeah, I know. That's such a trope straight out of some boozy coming of age drama." She rolled her eyes, looking down into her glass of wine and swirling it a little. "My daddy issues pushed me into terrible relationships with men," she threw out in a dramatic breathy voice, pressing the back of her hand to her forehead. Chuck smirked just slightly, and still, he simply watched and waited, attentive. "I mean, it kind of…is that, though. When I was growing up, my dad was the only male influence in my life and he wasn't…the best. Not as a dad, not as a son, or as a husband…not as a man, not as a…person in general. The kind of person who probably shouldn't have had a kid, probably wasn't a great person to have around kids even. Unless you want them to grow up to be a mess just like he is. A charming mess. Always with the charm," she added bitterly, raising her eyebrows.

She winced. In spite of everything he's done, everything he'd been, the problems he'd caused and the shit he'd stirred, she still felt bad saying things like that about her own father.

"He was always going off on jobs and when he wasn't gone, he was a bad influence, he made me sad a lot, disappointed. There was lots of…waiting around for him to pick me up from school, getting promises he'd be at my recitals, only for him to not show up 'cause he skipped town for some reason. Oh sorry, darlin', you know I wanted to though, right?" she mimicked in her dad's slow drawl. "Of course he wanted to. He just couldn't. He had to go. Another job. Or…another consequence starting to catch up to him, licking at his heels." She realized she was close to saying the real truth about her dad and she shoved it back down. Instead, she rushed on. "And then there were these…moments, ya know?" She smiled off to the side, taking a sip of wine, enjoying the way it went down so smoothly, warming her chest. "Moments where he seemed like he actually cared, wanted to be around me. He was really good at the proud looks in those moments. He made you feel really good, like all of the shit was worth that one moment. Like…I dunno," she breathed, brushing her hand through the air. She swung her gaze back to Chuck's again. "You know what I mean?"

Chuck nodded quietly, a soft smile on his lips. "Yeah. I know the one you mean. It makes you feel like they finally see you. Like they're finally looking right at you, taking you in, everything that you are, everything you've worked so hard to become, everything you worked so hard for him to see—finally actually see who you are and the stuff you've done—and are proud of what they see."

"Exactly," Sarah muttered quietly. "That's exactly it. When ninety percent of the time, it's like you don't even exist. Those rare moments of feeling like I was being seen by my dad felt so good, it was easy to pretend the other shit wasn't important. That the abandonment and being sad and feeling worthless…or at best, like I wasn't enough…that stuff wasn't real. The real stuff was when he bought me my favorite ice cream and we ate it sitting on the hood of his car. Or he'd blast John Fogerty or something and grin at me from the driver's seat as we rolled along those dusty desert roads east from here. On our way to yet another job he really, really needed me to help him with. Me, important little ol' me. I did feel important. Special. He was good at that. And I ignored the rest." She shrugged. "It was a defense mechanism, maybe. I don't know. But I can just see a therapist hearing all about my dad and how much of a deadbeat he was when I was growing up, and hearing about all the dudes I let shower me with bad behavior, only to produce a pretty flower here and there, and I let 'em do it. I let 'em say awful things to me, only to turn around and be sweet for a split second, and I'd just brush away the awful things because that didn't matter. Those good moments were bigger than the bad ones. I told myself that at least." She felt herself blushing as she glanced down at her wine. "God, that therapist would have a field day about my daddy issues translating into my dating issues."

Letting out a snort, he nodded. "Therapists love doing that to their patients. I swear it's their crack." She giggled. "It's so freaking annoying and then sometimes…"

"They're right?" Sarah filled in for him when he stopped himself, likely thinking it'd be rude to say it, considering everything she'd just blabbed to him.

Chuck sighed.

"I guess that's why they're the ones with the clipboards and we're the ones laid out on those lounge thingies." She giggled at that and he gave her a self-deprecating look. "Listen, I'm firmly in the daddy issues club. Feel free to join me in it if you'd like to. I know we won't be alone in there. Probably be a pretty packed room. Probably could fill Hall H at Comic-Con with folks dealing with daddy issues."

"Comic-Con?" Sarah asked, raising an eyebrow. She couldn't resist teasing. "Wouldn't something like that be filled with guys with daddy issues anyway? Don't think you'd have to look too far."

He grabbed at his chest. "Owwwwwww. Daaaaaamn. Hating on my nerds. Okay. Wow." She giggled, grinning toothily so he knew she was just teasing. But he made a thoughtful sound and tilted his head. "You might not be wrong about it. A lot of nerds probably do have daddy issues. And mommy issues. And Professor X issues. Niles Caulder AKA The Chief issues." He must've seen he was losing her there and he cleared his throat. "Uh … We're veering off. Point is, we'd have no problem finding other people with daddy issues."

"No, I imagine not," she sighed, smirking. He really was such a big ol' dork and she was weirdly into it. She didn't get why. His passion felt so good. The way he lit up about things.

She lightly cleared her throat, realizing how they got here. And then she snuck a look at him through her eyelashes. "Sorry, I went fully embarrassing with this junk about my dad's disappointing run as…well, as my dad. But you wanted to know why I let myself screw around with trash guys. It's probably that my pops was the only male in my life when I was growing up and he was a dud and I fell in with groups of people where I met more duds, and it got to where I was so surrounded by duds, I thought that was…what it was. All there was."

Chuck didn't say anything, furrowing his brow. It was almost like he was searching for something to say and coming up with blanks.

She decided she'd said enough incriminating shit, she might as well go for the cherry on top, right?

"Truth is, Chuck? I've been bouncing around in dating situations thinking it was supposed to be a series of disappointments intermixed with some rare good moments. And I've been thinking about it a lot lately." She shrugged. "I'm wondering if every romantic relationship I've been in has been me waiting for him to get worse, cross a line, or threaten to cross a line. Like, that's the thing I go into relationships knowing will happen. Eventually he'll reach that point. And I've been prepped every time so that when it happens, I can cut myself off, get the hell outta there. Before it gets…I dunno, super abusive. I go into romantic situations knowing it'll get there. Like I…want it. Or something. Rinse and repeat." She felt a deep mortification in her chest suddenly. Had she really said that out loud to this guy she was on a second date with?

Was she trying to put a shit ton of pressure on him? Was she trying to push him to sprint in the other direction? She'd seen an end somewhere with all of the guys she dated, right at the beginning, and it was comforting to her somehow.

And she'd just said that out loud to this guy who was actually sweet, actually kind, with a genuine warmth that flooded through him and anyone he was around.

She didn't mean to drop this in his lap, make him think he had to step up and be better than other guys.

Sarah didn't need Chuck to swoop in and be a nice guy savior.

She'd known what she was getting into every time, at least for the most part. Some of them got worse than she'd expected, faster than she'd expected. Some of them exceeded her expectations, and they'd been the most dangerous ones. She'd let those last too long, because they were just so much better than the trash she'd been prepared for. And still, they'd been duds.

All of them.

Duds.

"I don't need you to rescue me," she blurted then, sticking her hand out between them, palm down. She sighed, rolling her eyes at herself and turning her gaze on Chuck. He looked surprised. "That isn't why I said all of that. Like, ohhh no I've dated such terrible men, please come and save me, you sincerely sweet guuuy," she half-sang. She dropped the act and shook her head vehemently. "That isn't what this is, and I don't need to be saved or…whatever."

"I know."

Sarah stopped, shoving the annoying mess of thoughts out of her head and just watching him closely. The way he'd just said that so simply, so genuinely, made her feel almost overwhelmed by how easily he continued to disarm her. She didn't know what to do with this.

"If I thought you needed to be saved, I would've let that dipshit yesterday provoke me into fisticuffs right there on the curb outside of your place. I'm not here to rescue you. I just like bein' around you. I feel good around you. I want you to feel good around me. That's all," he said with a shrug.

Sarah sighed, nudging her plate to the side and leaning her elbow on the table, propping her chin in her palm and giving Chuck a slow, dreamy, closed-mouth smile. She could feel her eyes sparkling as she looked at him, like a freaking cartoon or something.

"Well, that just swept me off my feet."

He gave her a crooked grin, leaning both of his elbows on the tabletop and tilting himself closer to her, the flame in the middle of the table sending light flickering pleasantly over his handsome features.

"I didn't say I wasn't aiming to sweep you off your feet, though."

She gasped theatrically, letting out an adrenalized giggle. "Oh, that was a fantastic line, Bartowski."

"Didja like that one?"

"Mmmhm. Maybe we can put the rest of this food in to-go containers, get in my car, find somewhere nice and secluded, and make-out a little."

Chuck's face went blank, then he looked down at his watch.

His hand shot up as the waiter came near, the young woman meeting his gaze as she walked past. And he chirped, "Check, per favore?"

A/N: You know, every fic of mine, they eventually get to the talk about their parental situation. And I don't know if I succeed at this or not, but it's a balance trying to keep it fresh and different in each fic. They both have parents who abandoned them, though. This time, Sarah's managed to at least say out loud that she gets it is connected to her shitty relationships, whether she really gets the depth of her issues or not just yet. I don't know. Just a thought I was having. It's hard to keep that conversation fresh. Sarah being more open to talking in this fic because she isn't a spy talking to the asset is different, though. Heh.

I'm rambling. It's Friday. Happy weekending, y'all. Stay cool, it's gonna be hot out there. And turn on the World CUP OMG.

-SC