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: Yesterday I had a good tired after spending all day the day before in LA with a friend, adventuring and finally getting a break from the stressful job situation that's happening right now. LA adventures are really good for that, but friends are even better. But now, today, I have a regular ol' tired. I apologize if posting gets a little more spotty until mid-August or so. It's gonna be a long couple of weeks with my job. Long work days, super tired when I get home. Who knows? Maybe editing this will be cathartic for me after all that. Thanks to those of you still reviewing. I see them and appreciate them.
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 didn't know what time it was, only that she'd woken up a long time ago when it was still dark. She'd found him unmoving underneath her save for the gentle rise and fall of his chest beneath her cheek, and then she'd drifted off to sleep again.
This time when she woke up, it wasn't pitch dark outside. The sky was lightening but still grey, cloudy, the sun not totally risen just yet. She sucked in a deep breath and shifted on top of him to nuzzle her face into the spot under his jaw, pressing a kiss to his skin there.
His bed was amazing. No wonder he hadn't bought a new one since he was a teenager. She wouldn't either if she were him. She also decided that it was an extremely functional bed for fantastic sex. She could write a dissertation on the many advantages of this bed, the way it accommodated two fully grown adults wrestling for control. More crassly put, it lent itself to every position they attempted. And for being, what, at least a decade old, it was very sturdy, too.
She found she'd like to stay here another few hours or so, snuggled up on this man who also deserved a dissertation for what he'd done to her. With her. But also definitely…to her.
Sarah Walker grinned a bit cockily, her teeth grazing his jaw. And it was then that she felt his fingers tighten around her hip, digging into her skin and muscle there. He tugged her a bit more on top of him, letting out a cute grumble into her hair.
So he was awake too.
She wracked her brain for something to say. Did she wanna go for cute? Mischievous? Seductive?
But it wasn't to be any of those things as he wrapped his arms around her and shoved his weight to the side, rolling them both over so that she was pinned to the mattress beneath him. She squeaked in surprise and winced apologetically as he sent her a tired but amused look of chastisement for the sound she'd emitted.
His lips were against her jaw then, her chin, her cheeks, down her neck, dotting kisses along her collarbone, her shoulders, up and down her arms, tasting her bicep muscles that tightened under his attention.
And then he threw the covers over his head and disappeared from view. What she couldn't see, however, she felt. And she felt it acutely. She reached up to hold onto the headboard of his bed for dear life she felt it so acutely. And she clamped her lips between her teeth, doing her best to stay as quiet as possible.
The sun had since risen by the time he reappeared from underneath the covers, Sarah completely speechless, her limbs loose, her body spent a few times over, even as the most incredible buzzing sensation cascaded through her. Everywhere. Literally all over.
She sucked in a deep breath and blinked her eyes open, letting go of his headboard, wiggling her fingers to try to get the blood back into them. He merely looked down at her, hovering over her, question in his face.
As if wondering if what he'd done was okay.
Had he heard her?
She was sure he had, because he'd had to shush her multiple times.
Sarah sent him the most dazzling grin she was capable of, cupped his face, and tugged him down for a kiss, wrestling him onto his back again, making him giggle into her lips.
This time, the sun had risen even higher when they finally stilled, though it was still overcast outside. She was back on his chest, her lips against his collarbone, both of their chests heaving.
She heard a quiet beeping sound and Chuck shifted under her.
"S-Sorry, just…a sec." He crawled out from under her only enough to hang over the side of the bed to fish his pants up from the floor, digging in the pocket for his phone. "A-ha."
She loved how eagerly he snuggled back under her, tugging her against him again as he peered at the text.
He held it in a way that she could see it too. Not hiding it the way she was used to with partners before. And it made so much sense. But this guy seemed not to have secrets, didn't seem to care whether she saw it or not. In fact, perhaps he even wanted her to see it.
So she looked.
It was from his sister.
"Breakfast?"
Sarah propped herself up a little and shared a wince with him. "Do you…want me to get dressed and sneak through the gate again to my car?"
He huffed in frustration. "No, it—That feels bad. Like…I dunno, ick factor. After how much fun this was, that feels kinda…I dunno, disrespectful," he half-whispered.
The cutie.
His phone beeped again and they booth looked.
Ellie again.
"Does Sarah want breakfast too? How old are you? Nice girl like that shouldn't have to sneak into your window like a cat burglar you idiot."
Sarah cracked up, shoving her face into his shoulder to try to muffle it. Though she didn't know why. Ellie knew she was here. And that meant she knew what had happened here, too. That was a little embarrassing, but judging by the color of Chuck's face, she was sure he was even more embarrassed.
"She must know about that gate thing, huh?" she asked Chuck in a low voice.
He sighed. "Oh, she knows. But she was never immature enough to use it. Her guys always came through the front door because she's a fuckin' grown up." Rolling his eyes, he put a gentle hand on her hip and squeezed, pressing his fingertips to his forehead and giving her an apologetic look. "I'm sorry I made you sneak around like I'm…ashamed or something. I'm not. I'm actually pretty proud of myself for this."
Sarah adored the cheeky grin he flashed her, the way it was so toothy, his eyes bright in the morning sunlight. She giggled. "That's a very sweet apology but I get why you asked me to do it. You still have residual feelings of shame that you live with your sister even though I told you that you shouldn't."
She pushed herself to sit up.
"You leaving?"
"I…probably should. I've got a cocktail dress, stilettos, and a leather jacket to wear. Thassit." She giggled, clutching the sheets to her chest for at least a bit of modesty, even though she still felt the ghost of his lips and tongue and teeth where they'd traversed every nook and cranny of her body this morning especially.
"If you don't have anywhere else to be…" She heard him swallow hard. "Stay. Please? Ellie already knows…everything." He sighed, shrugging. "She always has, she always will. You can wear one of my more snug pairs of boxers, a T-shirt. Awesome's doing a twenty-four hour shift so he won't be back 'til sometime tonight so you don't have to feel…erm, awkward or whatever around him. Stay. Please?"
Was this fledgling relationship just going to be the two of them asking the other to stay a bunch of times? Because it was sort of feeling like that.
She didn't mind.
But this wasn't anything close to what she was used to. And she couldn't make herself ignore that if she tried.
Sarah bit her lip. "Can I use your shower? Would that be okay? Ellie…won't mind?"
Chuck shook his head vehemently. "Oh hell no. Not a bit. Please take as long of a shower as you want."
And they got out of bed together, both of them blushing at the utter lack of clothing covering them…yet another new phenomenon as she rarely blushed about anything, let alone sex. He let her borrow a too-large robe to wrap around her body, then handed her a T-shirt with Batman on it and a pair of blue and black plaid boxers. He led her into the bathroom, pointed out which body wash was his, the shampoo if she needed it, took out an extra towel, and left her to her own devices.
She tied her hair in a knot up on top of her head and let the spray of the shower beat against her chest, her back. She stood there for a while, letting herself just be. Not realizing a massive grin had spread over her face in the meantime.
}o{
"I didn't say anything."
But Ellie Bartowski didn't have to say anything to say something, and they both knew it. He gave her a flat look.
"What?" She shrugged innocently.
"Say what you wanna say."
Sarah finally left in the afternoon. The three of them devoured a late breakfast, two full pots of coffee were guzzled, and they lazed around the table, talking. It had felt fantastic. The laughter, the way he caught the two women sharing looks, as if they were already building a repertoire. He didn't even care if he was the target of their inside jokes.
And now he was standing in the kitchen with Ellie, drying the dishes from breakfast and lunch both as she washed them. And she had that little smile of hers on her face, her green eyes dancing.
"Fine," she said with a huff, turning to look at him, bracing her wet hand on the edge of the sink. "You knocked it outta the park, little brother. She is…"
"She is, isn't she?" He gave her a dreamy look.
"I am so proud of you, I don't even know what to do with myself."
"Wait 'til you see her on a stage with a bass strapped to her and a mic in front of her face. El, I don't even know how to handle any of it, she's so…"
"She's so, all right!" his sister drawled, chuckling. "I don't care what you have to do, you better knock yourself out keeping her around. Backflips, leaping through hoops, I don't care what. Kill someone if you have to." He laughed, giving her a wide-eyed look. "I don't know that it gets better than that. She even offered to help me make breakfast. Granted, she was slower at sous chef-ing than even you are, but she offered and she helped and she's pretty freaking amazing. I'm just proud."
"Be honest, you're a little shocked too, aren't you?" Ellie sent him a dirty look and he held up his hands defensively, the towel in one of them. "Because I'm super shocked. I'm in shock every time I look at her and she looks back with those fuggin' eyes of hers. I don't even know what to do with myself."
"Blue eyes," Ellie sighed.
He bent his knees and groaned, "Blue eeeyyyyeesss!"
"Killer."
"So killer."
They shared a moment, smiling, and then Ellie shrugged.
"I am not shocked by the way. I've been waiting for you to understand you deserve a girl like that for years, Charles Irving. Years!"
He gave her a warm smile, nudging her hip with his fist. "You're just saying that 'cause you have to, 'cause you're my sister."
"I don't have to say shit 'cause I'm your sister. I could call you a stinky stinker who should go live in a dumpster like Oscar the Grouch if I wanted to." He gasped, his jaw falling open. "But I don't, cause you're not." She nudged him back. "You're a really good guy and smart women—like Sarah—see someone like you as the catch you are. Period."
He gave her a thoughtful but eager look. "You think she thinks I'm a catch?"
Ellie laughed in his face. "You seriously just asked me that? No way she doesn't! The woman did the stupid back gate trick you and Morgan always talk about like dumb teenage boys when you think I can't hear you down in the basement." Chuck winced. "Yeah. Maybe don't leave the door gaping open? Some advice." Oops. "Um, also? She climbed into your window to spend the night with you." He deserved the frown she tossed in his direction.
"I apologized for it this morning. Sincerely. I wasn't thinking clearly, okay? It's…kinda embarrassing I still live at home."
Ellie shrugged. "So do I. And I'm a fucking neurosurgeon, Chuck. This is our family's home, and the mortgage is paid off, and we own it. Why would we live somewhere else when we have this for free? You don't have to feel weird bringing your girlfriends here. It's weird that you think it's weird."
He sighed. "I can't help how I feel."
"Well, you're dating a super gorgeous badass who is sweet and has a good sense of humor on top of all of that. And not just thinking you're funny, but she thinks I'm funny too, so she's a saint is what I'm saying." Chuck laughed. "So you're going to have to try to find a way not to feel that anymore. The more you project you think you don't deserve her, the more she'll start to absorb that false trash into her own mind."
Chuck blanched. "Is that how that works?"
"I'm good at brain stuff, Chuck." She giggled then, rolling her eyes. "I don't know! But it kind of makes sense, doesn't it? I don't want Devon to put me on a pedestal. I want him to treat me like a person who is his equal."
Nodding, the younger of the two Bartowskis took the pan they'd used for the bacon and began to dry it. "No, it makes sense. I'll keep that in mind. Thanks, sis."
"You're welcome."
A comfortable quiet settled between them as they finished up, but Chuck's own mind wasn't quiet. It was running wild, stuck on Ellie's gentle and constructive advice.
}o{
Sarah chuckled at the way her bandmates raised their hands immediately.
They were gathered again in the warehouse, Anoraak's "You Taste Like Cherry" playing from her phone—the usual hang-out playlist that she set up with a portable speaker during Critical Hellfire's downtime.
"Okay, so I guess we're going to Sinners tonight?"
"Uh, yeah. Finally going to just enjoy the music and not play ourselves?" Mac lifted his hands to the heavens. "Thank you, Jesus. Not that I don't love being onstage but I'd like to go to a venue and not be plagued by tummy butterflies."
"You're such a geek," Dylan said, chuckling, and then he turned back to Sarah. "Let's do it." He eyed her funny then.
"What?"
"You and GnR tall curly-hair guy are, like…actually dating now, aren't you?"
She tilted her head, biting her lip, leaning on the edge of the couch she stood next to. "Maybe. We aren't tacking labels onto it or anything. Why?"
"Kiiiiinda cute, that's alllllll," he drawled.
"Stop." She rolled her eyes.
"It is! He's right!" Mac joined in. "Guy who runs Twitch channel about local metal bands catches the eye of the lead singer in a local metal band. Excellent romcom vibes."
"We're not in a movie. He's sweet, he makes me laugh." He was jaw-droppingly fantastic at sex, she added silently. It was kind of concerning.
"And he actually respects you," Zondra threw in. "Just my two cents. 'Cause that's a new one for ya." Sarah frowned. "Lest we forget a certain someone sleeping on my couch for a while after leaving that one shit-tastic guy."
"Yeah, yeah. He respects me. It's nice. …For a change."
Dylan walked up to her and leaned in. "Good. You deserve that. It's what you have deserved this whole time. High time you see it yourself."
And even though he was being completely sincere, she felt a bit offended.
"Glad everyone has all of this to say after I've gone through the string of bad boyfriends you were all here for. Maybe you could've said something during? When my head was buried in the sand, maybe someone could've come and tried to pull it out? Just a thought," she teased.
Mac snorted. "Girl, like you wouldn't have doubled down and married one of them just out of spite."
She glared. "Point taken."
There was a loud buzzing and Mac took his phone out of his pocket, peering at it. "Morgan says he and Chuck are getting to Sinners at nine. If I'm gonna get there by nine, I need to go home, shower—"
"Yes you do," Dylan muttered under his breath, raising his eyebrows.
Used to his best friend's bullshit, the drummer ignored him. "—and look pretty. You gotta look pretty for Sinners."
"Are you gonna be looking for hookups all night?" Dylan half-whined.
"You're just being a whiner because if I'm looking for hookups, I can't be your gay wingman who makes you look all cool and like a super great ally to the LGBTQ plus community, which is a stellar chick-getter for you."
"It's worked in the best ways and it will work again. And hey, look. At least I'm not projecting something I'm not to people. I am a super great ally."
"Yeeeaaah, yeah. You are. Idiot."
Sarah waved to them as they filed out, agreeing to all meet at the club rather than carpooling from the warehouse. But she noticed Zondra hung back a bit, still hanging halfway out of the sliding door.
"You know we're all pulling your leg about this gamer Twitch guy you're seeing, right? He seems like a pretty okay dude."
She couldn't help a bit of shyness as she shrugged one shoulder, glancing away. "He's pretty okay, yeah. I like him."
Sarah could feel the guitarist's eyes on her, watching closely. She finally lifted her gaze to meet the other woman's.
"Mhm," Rizzo hummed quietly. "You don't get like this with menfolk. All quiet and contemplative and glowy. Usually you just barrel in there, overflowing with confidence and…I dunno, rebellion or something."
Sarah shrugged again. "I dunno what to tell you. I just like him."
"I can tell. We all can."
With a wink, the other woman finally stepped out, smiling as she slid the door shut, leaving Sarah to contemplate…quietly. And maybe Zondra Rizzo had a point.
Either way, Sarah pushed it out of her mind and headed up to her loft. She needed a long soak in the bath after they spent all day working on a new cover Dylan had brought to the table. And then she planned to dress to the nines for Sinners.
And maybe not just for Sinners, but also for one person in particular.
}o{
They merged into a crowd of Los Angeles's finest-dressed metal enthusiasts.
The bouncer recognized them from Games N Rock Sessions, clapped them on their backs with an excited "FELLAS!", and ushered them both in.
"Bro. Can you imagine?" Chuck asked, throwing his arm over Morgan's shoulders. "When we go big like this Cole guy promises we will, people won't just be watching us in LA, they'll see us in places like…"
"Orange County."
Chuck screwed up his face, pursing his lips and narrowing his eyes. "I was thinkin' more like…I dunno, San Francisco? New York? Ooooh what if we get invited into Austin to do some sort of music festival? Always wanted to go there. And Chicago? Can you imagine?"
"We goin' that big?"
"Maybe! They'll be letting us in at all the big rock hubs all over the place."
"Skipping liiiiines."
They high-fived, pumping their fists over their heads to the music as they walked deeper into the club. Chuck glanced at his watch, pushing at the cuff of the black slim-fit blazer with silk inner lining to see the time.
It was a little after nine. He cast his glance around the room. Being as tall as he was, he could see over most everyone's heads, and he looked for blond hair, or maybe a guy with dark hair pulled into two long braids down his back.
"See 'em?"
"Nah," he said, shrugging at Morgan. "Not yet." He rolled his shoulders a bit, trying to stretch the fabric in the blazer. "You think this thing's supposed to be this tight? Like, up in the shoulders."
"Yeah, she said slim-fit," his best friend said loudly over the band rocking onstage.
"What's that mean?"
"I don't know!"
"Oh good, I'm not the only one who was confused then. Maybe it means cutting off circulation in your arms?"
"Whaaaat?!"
The band had gotten louder.
"Nothing!"
He waved what he said away. It wasn't important. And he glanced one more time at the door to see if any members of Critical Hellfire were coming in. No dice just yet.
"Hey! It's Chuck! Hey, Chuck!" He turned to see people he didn't know giving him a thumbs up and waving as they danced.
He waved back, grinning.
"You doing a show tomorrow?!"
He just nodded and gave them a thumbs up back because trying to reply in this mess was probably a lost cause. They cheered, waved one more time, and turned back to the band onstage.
When he looked back at Morgan though, more fans had caught the Bearded One for selfies. When they noticed Chuck, they waved him over with a, "Oh shit! Chuck's here, too!"
As if Chuck and Morgan of GnR ever went anywhere without one another. (They did, of course. And then sometimes…they really didn't.)
He was pulled in for a few selfies… and finally a girl who looked a few years younger than they were sandwiched herself between him and his co-host. Chuck stuck his tongue out and reached up to do devil's horns sideways into the frame. But when he reached up high enough, he felt the seam that went from his shoulder down his back give, and then there was a pop, a tear…
Oh. Shit.
As the girl scurried off, he reached back to feel. Shit, he'd torn the seam. God damn, he'd just bought this today, too. And he was trying to look nice. Here he went and fucking tore a seam in it before Sarah Walker even arrived to see him in this ensemble. He had nice pants to go with it that thankfully weren't as tight as the blazer even though the saleswoman had called them slim-fit too.
He even bought a brand new pair of green Converse. Another buy from today, this time at the Converse outlet in Long Beach. It was cheaper. And he got to jam in the arcade with his best friend for an hour before they climbed back into the Nerd Herder and headed home.
"What're you doing?" Morgan called out.
Chuck spun to show the Beard, a fitful look on his face as he did so. "How bad's this tear look?"
Morgan winced. "Aw man. How'd that happen?"
And then it seemed to dawn on him and they both growled, "Slim! Fit!"
Chuck groaned. "I look so stupid now!"
"No, no! No, dude! You look badass! We can say you did it because you were in a mosh pit!" He gave his friend a flat look. "What?! Dude, it's a good idea!" the shorter man said, thrusting his arms out in a defensive shrug. And then Morgan's eyes went wide. "Uh oh. Guess who's here…"
Chuck feared the worst and was therefore mildly pleased when he saw a few of the Buy More crew spotting them from closer to the stage. They all held up their arms with "EYYYY!" and "WOOOO!" but stayed put as the band destroyed their eardrums with the giant speakers flanking the stage.
Glancing over his shoulder again, Chuck finally saw a familiar face.
The drummer of Critical Hellfire slid into Sinners in the flyest damn suit Chuck had ever seen, doing some sort of two-step type dance as he strutted.
Chuck reached back to smack Morgan on the shoulder, tugging him along towards the entrance where Mac was already bobbing his head to the music. He stopped when he saw them approaching, a massive toothy grin erupting on his face.
"It's the booooooys!" he sang in an impressively high-pitched voice.
"Hey, man—" Chuck found himself cut off by a tight hug. He chuckled, hugging back, and when Mac let him go, he lunged for Morgan, picking him clear off of the floor as he hugged him.
When he put him down, they lifted their hands and clasped them, then did weird stuff with their fingers, pulling back, knocking their elbows together, and whistling as they pointed up at the ceiling.
"Oh, okay. A special handshake already. I like it," Chuck said over the music, laughing.
"How the woofs workin', man?" Mac asked the shorter man.
"Like a dreeeam, thanks for helping me pick 'em out!"
Mac must've seen Chuck trying to subtly glance towards the door, and he wasn't stupid. He knew exactly who Chuck was looking for. Mac poked him in the shoulder. "Don't you worry, cutie. She was right behind me. Along with everyone else. They got stuck in the line."
"You had to wait in line?" Chuck asked, panic going through him. "Oh, shit. I should've seen if I could… Hold on. Lemme go and see about getting them in."
Mac raised a curious eyebrow and the other two men followed as the tallest of the three made his way back out of the metal club. Chuck didn't like doing this shit, but he felt stupid for not telling Sarah to text him once the bouncer recognized him and Morgan as the "Games N Rock Sessions guys".
He put his hand on the bouncer's shoulder, causing the man to turn. The grumpy face he'd been sporting immediately lightened up. "Oh shit. Chuck. Hey. What can I do for ya?"
"Hey. Roger, right?"
"Yeah! Wow… you remembered my name."
This was a little awkward, a little weird. The look on his face was a little dreamy… but he'd take it.
"Of course! Hey, listen…Rog. Can I call ya Rog?" The bouncer grinned. "You see that stream Morgs and I did about Critical Hellfire?"
"Uh. Oh! The band that wails! Yeah, you've talked about 'em a few times. I'm still waiting for them to come play at Sinners."
"That'd be rad. Thing is, they're, uh…here. In line. Think it'd be okay if I went and grabbed 'em and took 'em in with me?" He winked and sent the bulky man a crooked grin.
"Critical Hellfire's here? Go get 'em. No prob, man!"
"You're a gent, Rog. A real pal."
"Aw, shucks man. It's no sweat."
The next person in line made an annoyed sound. "Can we go in or what, dude?"
Roger spun to fix him with a grumpy look, saying in a terrifying gruff voice: "Wait your turn!"
Widening his eyes a bit, Chuck turned back to Mac and Morgan, holding up a finger. "We're all good! You two wait here."
"Woooooo!" Mac called out, his arm over Morgan's shoulders.
Chuck walked along the line, not at all surprised that it was as long as it was. But then he spotted Dylan and held up a hand in greeting. "Dylan! Hey!"
Dylan turned from where he'd been leaning his shoulder against the brick wall. He was wearing scuffed black leather boots, dark jeans, a black cowboy shirt with the pointy yoke, and had two braids, one dangling in front of each shoulder. "My brother, Chuck!" He clasped both hands on his shoulders and then moved in for a hug. When he pulled back, Chuck sized him up with an impressed look and gestured to Dylan's outfit. "Oh, this? You like?" the guitarist asked with a wily grin.
"It's tight, dude."
"Thank you."
Chuck nodded, then cleared his throat. "Hey, uh…sooo…you see Sarah? And Zondra?" he added quickly.
"Oh. I dunno. I know Mac was up there. Little shit wouldn't let me get in line with him."
"No sweat, I'm getting you guys in. C'mon."
They stepped out of the line and moved further back.
Sarah and Zondra were in line together, Sarah with her back to him. Zondra saw him approaching first and waved, pushing at Sarah's shoulder.
She turned, catching his eye almost immediately as he approached with Dylan at his elbow. She said something, maybe a "hey there" or a "hi", but he didn't hear it because his gaze dropped to the sleeveless tiger print studded vest she wore over a black bra, skin tight black leggings that stopped halfway down her shins, and black leather boots with silver studs up the sides. She'd even teased her hair on top, pulling the rest of it into a tight bun.
God damn it, she even had black lace-up leather arm warmers, the kind that made sexy triangles on both sides of her hands, wrapped through her middle and ring fingers. And she'd painted her fingernails black.
He let himself tip backwards, but thankfully, a pair of arms caught him around his middle, keeping him upright.
He heard Sarah's laugh distantly, but he was too focused on the vest, the way it hugged her chest, how it tucked over the leggings, but he could still see just a hint of her bellybutton.
"Annnnnnnnd it's a knockout," Dylan laughed in Chuck's ear. "Good thing you found me first. Might've gotten a concussion on the pavement, bro."
Sarah slid in to grab him by the front of his T-shirt, helping Dylan get him to his full height again.
"Jesus shit, dude. Did you have any food tonight?" he heard Zondra ask through laughter.
Chuck could only grin like an idiot as Sarah smiled up at him and moved to her tiptoes to press her lips to his. It was a quick kiss, as Dylan let out an "Ow owww!" and kind of ruined it. Instead, Sarah wrapped her arms around his shoulders and hugged him.
He hugged her back, reveling in it.
Chuck felt Sarah's lips at his ear. "You are fantastic for a girl's ego, Bartowski."
"You tryin' to give a guy a heart attack looking like this?"
"Oh okay," she giggled, pulling back and giving his blazer lapels a little tug. "Look at you in this slim fit suit trying to say shit about the way I look?" She clicked her tongue at him and winked.
"Hey, sorry kids," Zondra spoke up then as Sarah let go of Chuck, slinging her leather jacket covered arm over her lead singer's shoulders. "You gotta get in the back of the line. We don't support line cutters here."
Dylan snorted. "Uh huh. You'll change your tune in a second. Tell 'em, my man." He nudged him in the back with his elbow.
"How would you feel about me getting you into Sinners right now instead of waiting in this line another fifteen to twenty minutes?" he asked, deciding to dispense with modesty, even as he felt himself shift his weight a bit unsurely.
He even gave a cocky shrug when Zondra asked, "Wait, really?"
"Well, well…I would like to see this." Sarah slid in close to him again, wrapping an arm around his midsection, and he felt like the luckiest God damn person in the universe as he led them back to the front of the line where Roger waited, his muscled arms crossed at his broad chest.
He grinned at Chuck as he approached with the band on his heels.
"Oh, no way," Roger gushed. "So this is them, huh? The band you and Morgan keep talking about on the channel? You guys are Critical Hellfire?"
Chuck made the introductions and the bouncer rushed them through the door and into the metal club.
Dylan let out a wild howl, leaping up in the air for a high five as he walked up to Mac.
All six piled into the club and Zondra and Mac took to the dance floor immediately, hand in hand, thrashing and dancing together.
Chuck moved in close to Sarah, pressing his lips to her cheek, and then saying into her ear, "Can I get you a drink?"
"Hell yes."
They waved at Dylan and Morgan, letting the pair go off on their own to talk, and Sarah pulled him over to the bar.
She held up a hand to get the bartender's attention. She was who she was, looking the way she looked, and he couldn't have gotten from one side of the bar to the other any faster than if he'd teleported in front of them. They ordered their drinks and Chuck took his wallet out.
"You sure?" she asked. "I can get the drinks."
"Nah, I've got this. I'm a very wealthy man now, remember," he teased, making her giggle.
She fisted his blazer and he saw her eyes run down his body to his feet and back up again to his face. "You look good, Bartowski."
Chuck felt himself blush. "Oh. Thanks. Um, it's… You know."
"Uh huh." Sarah flashed him an amused look.
The bartender set down their drinks.
"Thanks, man. Keep the change." Chuck passed over the cash, earning a genuine thanks from the bartender.
And as he reached to pass the cash to the other man, he felt Sarah's fingers at his back. The bartender moved away and Chuck glanced at Sarah. "What—?"
Oh shit. She did notice it. The fucking slim fit nonsense. And his blazer's seam all torn by his own stupid shoulders. She stuck her finger through the tear and raised an eyebrow. "What happened here?"
"I was…in a mosh pit and it…tore. It's…um, it's slim fit. And it just…rrrrrip." He blushed. He was such a terrible liar. Sighing, he rolled his eyes at himself. "I didn't tear this thing in a mosh pit. It wasn't nearly that cool. I was taking a selfie with a fan of GnR and I moved my hand up to do, like, a…" He mimicked devil horns and stuck his tongue out with an "Ahhhhhhh!"
Sarah laughed, taking a sip of her drink. "That's all it took? Must really be slim fit, huh?"
"Yeah." He glowered down at his feet. "That's what the lady at the store today said. 'Oh it's supposed to be tight' mer merrrr," he mimicked, shaking his head.
"The lady at the store today?" Sarah tilted her head, giving him a sweet closed-mouth smile. "Bartowski, did you buy the sexy get-up today just for this little group outing to Sinners?"
He paused. "…Maybe. Is that too much? Did I do too much?"
"Yes," she said, her blue eyes sparkling in the club lights. He felt ridiculous, but then she moved up to kiss the corner of his mouth and she looked into his gaze with no small amount of awe. "But I mean that in the best way possible. You are too much. I love it."
"Oh. Good." He smiled. Then he glanced back at the torn seam even though he couldn't see it, even craning his neck. "Does this jacket look stupid with the giant tear? Should I go out and just leave it in my car?"
"No. It's punk rock," she said, wrinkling her nose teasingly. He gave her a flat look and she giggled. "C'mon. Finish that. Dance with me." She emptied the rest of her drink.
Chuck gaped. "Oh, I-I don't…dance…really. That's not my…"
"Finish the drink. Dance with me." When he didn't move, she cocked her hip, stepping in real close and slowly pressing her lips to the underside of his jaw.
Fuck this.
The band had since finished their set and a DJ was blasting classic 'eighties metal now. He could dance to metal, it wasn't that big of a deal.
So he downed his drink, earning an adorable whoop from his date. And then he found her hand clasped in his and he was being half-yanked to the dance floor.
As "I Was Made For Lovin' You" by KISS blasted on the speakers, Sarah turned to face him and stepped in close, reaching up to prop her arms on his shoulders. God damn, the heavy-lidded look she was giving him as she began to twist her hips first one way then the other.
"I'm not actually…all that big on KISS," he tried to say, his mouth going dry as she pushed her fingers into his hair.
"Chuck?"
"Yeah?"
"I don't care. Dance."
"Right."
He bounced a little in her embrace as she began to grind her front into his and she let out a bubbly giggle.
"Bartowski, oh my God. Loosen up. I feel like I'm dancing with a tree. C'mere." She grabbed his hands and put them on her hips, and then she gyrated her hips to each side, slowly lowering herself as she did, twisting her waist to and fro as she straightened to her full height again.
Jesus Christ Almighty Lord God Fuck.
But then she jammed her hips against his, her hand around his waist. And the more she moved their fronts together, pulling him along with her, the more he felt himself getting the hang of it.
Their foreheads pressed together, noses brushing, Chuck lost himself in Sarah's spell, and in spite of KISS not being even anywhere near the top of his list of favorites, he let it seep into his soul and he…danced. He let Sarah guide him and he danced with her.
That proud look on her face, the way she bit her lip in excitement, he felt it all filling him up with an electric heat he couldn't get enough of.
And when Sarah tilted her face back, singing the chorus, pushing her fingers into his barely controlled curls, Chuck dropped his inhibitions and began to sing too, tugging her in closer, dancing with her, not caring about the inklings of attention they were attracting from people who recognized the young man in the blazer with the torn seam at its shoulder.
They didn't, however, recognize the woman he was clearly with…
At least…not yet.
A/N: JUST WAIT!
Please review if you're able to. Thanks for reading, either way!
-SC