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: This chapter is yet another example of how Steampunk . Chuckster is an amazing writer. She takes the source material from The Thin Man and updated it to a modern setting, makes it work for this version of Chuck and Sarah and gives it a spark that makes it something new and different. This was one of the scenes that she told me about when she was describing this whole idea, and it might just have been this scene that made me ask if I could horn my way in. :-) I hope you enjoy reading this chapter as much as I did!
XOXOXOXO
Chuck burst down the stairs of his condo, making quite the racket. Sarah looked up from her book, perched on the comfortable living room couch, her hand twitching reflexively towards the knife strapped to her ankle.
She stopped and took in his appearance as he landed on the hardwood floors with a thump. He was wearing a slim cut charcoal suit with a white button up beneath, no tie, and oddly enough his black Converse sneakers. "What are you doing?"
"What d'you mean?" He grinned and shrugged his shoulders, crossing the room to the kitchen and opening a cupboard.
"Are you going to the office? Give me a second and drive you." She closed the book and buttoned her gray business blazer, smoothing it down her front as he watched in calm amusement.
"I'm not going to the office."
Sarah turned and fixed him with a flat look. "Well, you're not going anywhere else."
Chuck just grinned again. "Yeah, I am. And you're going, too."
She was silent, trying to ignore the broadness of his shoulders in that suit, or the way he'd actually fixed his hair a little with some product.
"We're going to a bar and we're drinking."
"Um, no. No, we're not." She unbuttoned the blazer and sat down again, picking up her book.
"Aw, c'mon! I can't stay in here all cooped up. I'm going out and you're going too."
"Fine. Go out. I'm not going, though."
"Why?" he half whined, setting down his glass and rounding the counter to move closer to where she was sitting.
"I'm on duty."
"I don't care."
"You should."
"I don't. Okay, look. We go to a bar, have a quick drink, come back. This has been a stressful week for both of us."
"Mr. Bartowski, your life might not be important to you, but it's important to your father, and it's important to my employer. You die, I get fired. And I like my job. It's a good job. Lots of benefits." She idly flipped the page of her book even though she hadn't read any of the words.
"Come oooon, Sarah Walker. Even Pinkerton detectives can have fun sometimes."
"Yeah, they can. And they do. When they're not on duty."
He plopped down on the chair a few feet away, leaning forward with his elbows on his knees and raising an eyebrow. "That's the worst excuse I've ever heard."
She ignored the thrill that shot through her at the tone of his voice, how it seemed to come from deep in his chest, rumbling into her ears and down her spine. "I'm not putting your ass on the line like that." Her eyes slid up his legs, abdomen, chest, and finally settled on his brown gaze. "I think it's pretty good."
A slow smile spread across his features, starting in his eyes. Then he hopped to his feet and fastened a button of his suit jacket. "Welp. I'm going then. You know, anything happens to me while I'm at the bar, you're getting fired anyways. Might as well go with me. Stand more of a chance protecting me that way. Last chance."
"I'm not going."
XOXOXOXO
"My good man, a dry martini. Make that two dry martinis, actually." Chuck turned to grin at his companion for the night.
"Same for me," Sarah chirped, meeting his grin cheekily.
The bartender raised his eyebrows and turned away to prepare the drinks as Chuck leaned away to survey her with an impressed look on his face. "What happened to Agent I'm-On-Duty?" he asked.
"She remembered she likes alcohol…especially when someone else is paying." Sarah shrugged one shoulder and turned on her stool to look around the room. "And that she can drink any of these people under the table."
"Oh hooo, is that a challenge?"
"No," she answered seriously, giving him a look.
He raised his hands in surrender. "Okay, okay. Not a challenge. I'm just glad you came."
Pursing her lips to quell the smile that threatened at his sincerity, she turned back to the bar and watched the bartender line two martinis up in front of her first, then Chuck. "So am I. I think I needed this."
"Wound up?"
"A little," she confessed with a bounce of her shoulder.
"Yeah, me too. Never thought I'd be in this position—afraid for my dad's life, afraid of losing everything he's built up, our company, our livelihood…"
She wondered why he didn't mention that his life was potentially in danger as well. Was it because he didn't want to think about it? Or was it because he was too busy worrying about his father and the empire Stephen Bartowski had worked hard to build from the ground up?
Feeling a little breathless at that thought, she gave him a humorless smile. "I bet."
"You're used to all this intrigue, though, right? I mean, this is what you do all the time."
"Doesn't mean I don't get stressed. There's a lot riding on this investigation. It's not just embezzlement or some big honcho wanting to check on his employees. A lot of people can get hurt this time. Innocent people." She shrugged again, trying to make herself seem nonchalant, even though her words directly conflicted with the gesture.
"And it's your job to make sure that doesn't happen." He raised his glass to her and she clinked her own against it.
"Right."
"Well you're doing a bang-up job so far, m'lady, I must say." He downed the drink as though it was water and he'd been trapped in the desert for a week.
So she did the same and licked her lips a little, setting the glass down. "Thank you."
Chuck lifted his second glass with a raised eyebrow, then downed that one as well. She couldn't resist grinning his way as he immediately ordered more martinis.
"Where'd you learn to drink, if I may ask?" He turned to raise a questioning eyebrow over his shoulder as she downed her second martini. "What with your penchant for not drinking while 'on duty'," he teased, making bunny ears with his fingers.
She laughed. "I'm not on duty twenty-four seven," she said flatly, tapping the bar top in front of her for more drinks. "And I went to college."
"Oh yeah? Where?"
"Excuse me, but no. We're not getting into the personal stuff."
"What?" he gasped, his voice getting a little high pitched. "You get to know everything about me and I don't even get to know where you went to college? What kind of bull is that?"
She grinned and shrugged a shoulder cutely, taking her time with the third drink. Technically, telling Chuck personal information wasn't against Pinkerton protocol. This wasn't the CIA. Nothing bad could really happen to her professionally if Chuck knew where she went to school.
But Jack Walker was out there somewhere, still working con jobs, and as little as he'd lent to her personal success after he followed the unlawful path, he was her father.
More than that, though, she hadn't stopped Jack's actions when she probably could have. People were hurt, and while their injuries hadn't been physical, she'd done nothing to stop it from happening. And that more than anything made her keep quiet on the subject. She didn't want Chuck to know about that. She didn't want to see his warm brown eyes judge in that split second before he slid the polite mask in place in a belated attempt to not hurt her feelings.
Chuck just shook his head in playful disdain, downing his third drink and turning away from his fourth to look at the other people in the bar. "Fine, then. No personal stuff, even though you probably know things like what I named my favorite blankie as a toddler, and how long it took for me to be potty trained. My first crush in grade school," he added wistfully.
Sarah snorted, almost choking on the sip she'd just taken. Chuck gestured for water and she glared over the rim of the glass once the bartender handed it to her. Wiping her eyes of the tears, she made a face. "I don't know any of those things and I don't really want to."
"Oh? Not interested in my love life at all, are you? Not even a little?" He held his thumb and pointer finger up, about an inch apart.
"No. Thanks. Unless one of your ex-girlfriends is a murderess and has you in her sights next, I uh…don't wanna know."
"Ex-girlfriends. Hmmm."
She narrowed her eyes at him. "What?" she asked cautiously.
"It's just that you didn't say anything about my present girlfriend."
Sarah jolted and hid it by reaching for her drink, emptying it and taking her time putting it back down. "You don't have a present girlfriend."
"Aha!" He gave her a satisfied smile. "You do know about my love life."
"Oh come on. You have all the markings of a man in between girlfriends. It doesn't take a detailed dossier to know that," she snorted.
"Markings?" he asked dubiously. She noticed he was leaning a bit closer and the room was getting a bit warmer.
"Yeah. Markings."
Chuck snorted. "Only markings I know of is a birthmark on my—"
"Nope! Stop!"
"Arm."
She turned to look at him, watching the slow smile grow on his face again and she had to laugh.
Forty minutes passed in which they talked about everything that wasn't personal, knocking back drinks, Chuck playing air guitar to the music in the background as his ears turned redder and his eyes became blearier. She learned a good deal about electronics and why Playstation would always be better than Xbox, in Chuck's opinion, even though he owned both game systems and their successors.
They finally stumbled down the hallway to Chuck's condo after spending nearly an hour inside the bar, Sarah supporting a good deal of Chuck's weight. He felt warm against her side, his arm wrapped securely around her shoulders, the fingers of his large hand clenching her upper arm, his face close to hers.
She was buzzed, tipsy, maybe even a little drunk, but she'd stopped drinking after the fourth, instead letting Chuck indulge as much as he felt was necessary. Why not?
She was here to protect him, and maybe he'd be a little easier to protect if he was passed out on his bed until morning instead of getting into trouble. Easier than shooting him with a tranq dart, at least.
They stopped at his door and she made sure he could stand straight before she slipped her arms from around him. She'd since pulled her blazer off and had it draped over one arm, her red blouse a little less vibrant than usual in the darkness of the hallway. "Let me see your keys, Mr. Bartowski."
"Mr. Bartowski is my dad. I'm Chuck."
"Your keys."
He pulled them out of his pants pocket and dangled them. "There." Then he stuffed them back in his pocket.
"I meant to open your door."
"You just said you wanted to see 'em." His eyes seemed a bit clearer after being hit in the face by the winter night air. Which meant he wasn't as drunk as all that. Which meant he was definitely flirting.
She bit the inside of her cheek to keep from grinning wildly. "You better hand over those keys."
"Or what?"
"I kick your ass."
"Then you'll have to explain why you had to kick my ass and why your breath smells like martinis and hey, aren't you supposed to be on duty?" He gave her a toothy grin and leaned against the door, crossing his arms.
She stared at him, her features immovable. Then she stepped closer, even while her heart thudded against her ribcage at his close proximity. He seemed to lose a little of his cockiness as she looked up into his eyes.
His Adam's apple bobbed up and down as he unfolded his arms and made to take a step back.
Sarah pounced and grabbed his wrist, spinning him and slamming his front into the door. She held one arm behind his back with her left hand and shoved her other hand into his pocket. A moment later she pulled back with his keys in her hand and let him go.
Sarah unlocked the door and swung it open, mockingly dangling the keys in his face as he just had. Then she swept her arm to the side and gestured for him to enter, bowing her head. "Ladies first," she said in a formal tone.
Even while he gaped, there was so much amusement brimming in his brown eyes that she almost grabbed his face and kissed him. Instead she watched him go in, taking a moment to admire the way his ass looked in his slacks before stepping inside and shutting the door behind her.