The Detective and the Tech Guy
Authors: Steampunk . Chuckster & dettiot
Rating: T
Summary: A case of mistaken identity and murder brings Sarah Walker, Pinkerton agent, to sunny California. Protecting the heir to the Bartowski Electronics Corporation should be just business-but Chuck Bartowski fills out a suit nicely and makes a mean martini. Chuck lobbied to hire the Pinkerton Agency, but had no idea that the detective they'd send would be as alluring, intelligent and fascinating as Sarah Walker. Will the detective and the tech guy solve the mystery, distracted by the riddle in their own hearts? An homage to The Thin Man movies co-written by Steampunk . Chuckster and dettiot.
Disclaimer: Neither of us own Chuck. If we did, there would have been a 1940s flashback episode. And a musical episode. And . . . you get the idea.
Author's Note 1: So, wow. I'm not sure either of us was expecting the awesome response we got from our intro chapter. Not that I'm unaware of dettiot's expansive readership. And the fact that a Chuckster who sees her name attached to something can trust one hundred percent of the time that it is going to be a good read. All that aside, I was still super excited. Thank you so much, you guys! For the reviews, tweets, tumblr notes, reblogs, etc. I hope you keep reading and I hope you keep enjoying, because it's just going to get better from here on out!

XOXOXOXO

An emphatic pounding on his door made Chuck hurry from his bedroom, curious about who was knocking on his door at just past seven in the morning. Normally no one ever knocked on his door at this hour of the morning, but that was before his father had started receiving death threats and was nearly killed himself. Before Sarah Walker had come into his life and made plans with him for an eight o'clock meeting.

But it might not be her, after all. Whoever this guest was, they'd have to deal with seeing him in a robe with wet hair.

He opened the door and boggled. Looking pressed and polished in a black pinstriped suit, Sarah Walker was standing on his doorstep with a to-go cup of coffee and an annoyed expression.

"You're early," he croaked.

"Please tell me you checked through the peephole before you opened the door," she said, her heels letting her look him in the eye.

"Umm …" Chuck said, wishing he had gone faster on his run and finished his shower earlier so he could be dressed for this conversation.

Sarah rolled her eyes and pushed past him. "Mr. Bartowski, my job is to keep you and your father safe from the person who's already killed Bob Gerheart and wants to kill your father. But if you don't watch out for yourself, it won't matter how much I watch you."

Chuck swallowed. He knew his father was much more worried about Chuck's safety than his own; it had taken a lot of arguing on Chuck's part to make Stephen Bartowski agree to contact the Pinkerton Agency. But for some reason, his father thought Chuck was in more danger.

But being around a beautiful woman who made his knees turn to water …

He rolled his shoulders. "Well, then, make yourself at home while I get dressed."

"Nope," she said, taking a long swallow from her coffee. "Show me your closet."

For some reason, the absurdity of her request made Chuck grin. "Curious about whether it's boxers or briefs, Ms. Walker? Or just want to see where I sleep?"

Her glare could melt the polar icecaps. "I need to survey your entire apartment and evaluate any security gaps."

"So the assassin is hiding in my closet? Got it," Chuck said, heading for the stairs that wound up to his second-floor master suite. He could hear her heels clattering on the rare exotic hardwoods that floored the entire apartment, except for the ultra-thick carpeting in his bedroom.

He had bought this apartment for a song four years ago, right after he had graduated from Stanford. With some elbow grease and a lot of money, he had turned it into the perfect home for himself: big windows to let in light but with special refractive glass to eliminate heat; a rooftop deck with a few solar panels; and a large master bedroom and attached bathroom that contained a steam shower.

But even more important than how it looked was what it held: all his computers, his video game consoles, and the mementos of his life. And while he had plenty of friends come over and visit him on the first floor, he wasn't used to having someone else in his bedroom. Not lately, anyway.

Once he had stepped into his bedroom, Chuck opened the door to his closet and started rummaging through his suits. He glanced over his shoulder at Sarah Walker, whose eyes were sweeping around the room. "Well, Detective? Do you approve of my decorating?"

Sarah raised her eyebrows. "I wouldn't have pegged you as a modern guy, myself. Mid-Century Modern, maybe."

"Everyone does Mid-Century Modern now," Chuck said, picking a navy blue suit in a lightweight wool. "It's overdone."

He set aside the suit and hunted for a clean shirt, noticing how Sarah kept looking around the room. She sipped her coffee, looking lost in thought. And extremely hot.

When she stepped up beside him as he vacillated between white and pale blue shirts, he looked at her out of the corner of his eye. He had a hot woman in his closet. Although the fact that she was here to protect his life and wasn't there for any other reason definitely mellowed the tingle he felt.

At least, it should have.

Finally picking the white shirt, he grabbed his Chucks. "Anything else you want to see?" he asked, his hand resting on the knot holding his robe closed. "Because I'm ready to get dressed, and usually I don't give people a show unless they've bought me dinner first."

"Very funny, Mr. Bartowski," Sarah said, her voice cool and her eyebrows raised. "You should take this more seriously."

Chuck folded his arms over his chest. "Do you really think that? Or are you just toeing the company line?"

"Do I think there's a real threat here?" she asked, waiting for his nod before replying. "Yes, I do. One of your father's major competitors has been killed—a man who resembles your father. Someone that your father was ready to bury the hatchet with. Coupled with the threatening letters …" She gave an elegant shrug. "Death threats aren't to be joked around with."

Ever since yesterday's meeting, when Sarah Walker and the other Pinkerton staff had made their presentation about protecting Stephen Bartowski, Chuck had tried to laugh it all off. To act like this couldn't be happening. But if she thought it was serious …

He took a deep breath. "Okay, then. If you don't mind, I would like to get dressed in private. I can meet you downstairs afterwards and then I can take you through the apartment, let you see everything."

She looked at him, then nodded. "All right." She walked towards the door and Chuck turned towards the clothes he had laid out on the bed. He unknotted his robe and doffed it, tossing it onto the bed and leaving him in his boxer briefs.

"Oh, and Chuck?"

It was all he could not to yelp and cover himself. He turned towards the door, doing his best to stay calm and cool. "Y-yes?"

There was a devilish grin on Sarah's face. "Wear the blue shirt." She might have winked at him before she turned and left him alone. Chuck wasn't sure; everything was a blur beyond hot woman saw me in my underwear hot woman saw me in my underwear hot woman saw me in my underwear.

XOXOXO

Chuck Bartowski might be one of the more confusing men she had ever encountered in her work as a Pinkerton agent. He tried to act all glib and confident, charm oozing out of every pore. But then he'd drop it enough to let her see another side: sensitive, worried about his father, quirky.

Not that it mattered that much what she thought of him. She would protect his life because it was her job. The fact that she found him easy on the eyes and a witty conversationalist just made the job better for her.

After a few moments, he came down the stairs. Sarah noticed with approval that he had listened to her and gone with the blue shirt under his navy blue suit. "What, no hat?" she asked, drinking the last of her coffee.

"Nah, I don't like hats," Chuck said breezily. "And they're overdone, too. Breakfast?"

"I've already eaten," Sarah said. "And you need to give me the tour before I drive you to work."

"Nope."

"Excuse me, but nope?" Sarah repeated, following him into a kitchen of gleaming stainless steel appliances and glistening cobalt-blue glass tiles.

"Breakfast is the most important meal of the day. I always have something before I drive myself to the office."

Chuck shot her a glance as he filled a mug with coffee, then gestured towards her paper cup. "You want a refill?"

With a sigh, Sarah popped off the lid and held out her cup to him. He did need to eat, after all, and she had allotted plenty of time to allow for the tour of his apartment before he was due to report to work. That was part of the reason for arriving early for the their meeting. The other reason was to see how he handled being thrown a curveball. So far, he had passed with flying colors, which made Sarah willing to cut him a little slack.

Although she wanted him to switch up his schedule and start arriving at different times, so if the tour made him later than his normal arrival time at Bartowski Electronics, so much the better.

Taking a sip, she nearly moaned. Clearly, wealth had many advantages—including having the good stuff every day instead of once in a while. And if there was one thing Sarah Walker liked, it was good coffee that someone else had paid for.

With the movements of someone well-accustomed to what he was doing, Chuck moved around the kitchen, gathering supplies. She took a seat at the center island, watching as he deftly cut up some peppers and part of an onion, using some kind of high-tech gadget so his eyes wouldn't water. He paused at the refrigerator. "One egg or two?"

When she didn't respond, he glanced over at her. "You already ate, but if you were still hungry …"

It was on the tip of her tongue to refuse, but instead she just held up one finger to him. He grinned widely at her and took three eggs out.

Rather than keep watching him and feeling her stomach flutter at a well-dressed man making breakfast, Sarah set down her coffee cup and stood up, taking the loaf of bread Chuck had set out and putting a few slices into the toaster.

Within a few minutes, they had cheesy Western scrambled eggs and toast to go along with the excellent coffee. While Chuck shoveled in his food, Sarah ate slower, her mind cataloging what she needed to do. Get him to work, review the notes she had started on his apartment and determine what alarm system would work best, then meet with her assistants to see what they had learned so far. Then brief Mr. Bartowski and Chuck before driving Chuck back here.

Nothing too difficult to achieve. She had to admit that with this excellent food, it'd be easier to get through her day.

"So you cook, huh?"

Chuck paused, his fork halfway to his lips, before he smirked at her. "Unless you think there was some six-foot-four elf taking my place and doing the cooking, yes."

"Since you're being overly pedantic, I'll rephrase," Sarah said. "You cook pretty well."

"Thanks," Chuck said, shooting her a grin. "I always take a compliment where I can find one."

Sarah propped her chin on her hand. "Awww, was someone often overlooked growing up?"

His eyes sparkled. "Actually no. I was praised to the skies. But it's different when it's not your mother."

"Please don't tell me your mother is the most important woman in your life," Sarah said, injecting a note of disdain into her voice, even though she knew the smile blooming on her face undercut what she was saying.

Teasing him was fun. It wasn't often she found someone she could banter with like this. And why was she letting herself be distracted like this?

Straightening up, Sarah slid off her stool and carried her plate over to the sink. "Are we ready for that tour?"

Chuck looked at her, his eyebrow raised, then shrugged. "Okay. Let me just get the dishes done."

To her amazement, he insisted on rinsing all the dishes and sticking them into the dishwasher before escorting her around the apartment. With so much to do, so many details to absorb, Sarah was grateful to have her notebook and pen to take notes. Because it gave her something to focus on, something to keep her mind from wandering back to the line of his shoulders in his suit and the fact that he had gone with the shirt she had told him to wear.

This was not turning out like she thought it would.

End.