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: Chemistry. It's one of the things dettiot excels at when it comes to her fic. And the fact that she can create that chemistry in a chapter in which Chuck and Sarah aren't even in the same room, when we're only getting to see Sarah's POV…? Phew. Ladies and Gentlemen...I give you leave to shower her with praise. Go. Go and do it. And enjoy this quintessentially dettiot piece of DATG.

XOXOXOXO

Sarah Walker had amazing powers of concentration. She had always been praised for her ability to focus, to block out any interruptions that would disrupt the job at hand. Beyond her hand-to-hand training and impressive marksmanship scores, her mind was her greatest weapon.

So the fact that she could not stop thinking about Chuck Bartowski's chest was really, really bad.

Honestly? She had seen better chests. Really. Ones that were more impressively muscled, without a tiny little belly pooch like Chuck's. Ones that were less hairy, showing every bit of definition to each muscle, as compared to the dusting of hair over his pecs and abs.

Although his skin looked very smooth. Smooth and tanned and not scarred at all. For a computer nerd who spent a lot of time crouched over a desk, his torso was nice. Very nice. And when he had stopped, with his shirt half-off, it was all she could do not to reach out and oh-so-lightly stroke—

She had to stop this.

Yanking the holder from her ponytail, Sarah shook out her hair and started the shower, keeping the dial firmly in the middle. The last thing she needed right now was hot water.

After shucking off her sweaty clothes, she stepped into the shower stall and immediately immersed herself in the lukewarm water. Closing her eyes, she took long, deep breaths. She had to cool off.

He had good arms.

Maybe not as defined as other men she had known. But his biceps were firm and toned. He had flexed when she touched him and she had been able to feel the solid mass of muscle. And when she had drawn her fingers down his arms, feeling his smooth, warm skin …

Sarah opened her eyes and grimaced. Taking a step back, she leaned against the cool tiles, gazing up at the ceiling.

During the aikido lesson, it had been different. She had let herself get caught up in it all. Touching Chuck in a way that was explainable, justifiable. Feeling his eyes on her body and her face and not avoiding it. Looking her fill at him, taking in all six foot four of him and just … marveling. At the package that contained this smart, funny, amazingly kind man. Marveling and wondering just why he was so interested in her.

Was it the mystery? The fact that she held him at arm's length? (Not that she really was. He had wormed his way past her defenses dozens of times in the two and a half months she'd been in California.)

Could it be just something physical? Her appearance made him hot? (Then why did he seem to enjoy spending time with her? Joking with her? And why had he never made an actual move on her until earlier today?)

Or did Chuck just get off on a woman who was off-limits? (If she wasn't working for his father—for him—she wouldn't be off-limits. She would have kissed him already. More than kiss him.)

What was the sense in denying it? First the almost-kiss at the beach party, then his approaching her during the lesson today … they had chemistry. Chemistry that she hadn't really let herself think about, hadn't let herself consider, until now. Because she liked Chuck Bartowski. He was funny, sweet, a good listener …

She had tried to put him in the friend box. There was no sense in treating him like just a client; he had become a friend to her so quickly that it was too late to return to a professional relationship. And she could handle being friends with a client. It could even help—could make her do her job that much better, kept the client from resenting her constant presence.

But a friend and client that she found attractive? More than attractive—dizzyingly handsome, magnetic, downright hot? That was bad.

Pinkerton had strict rules about fraternization between agents and clients. To sum up pages and pages of rules, it all came down to one word: don't. If she gave in to whatever this was with Chuck, she'd be fired.

Pushing off from the wall, Sarah picked up her shampoo and started washing her hair. There was no way she could give in to this fire. But that didn't mean she had to douse the fire entirely, did it?

Could it work? Could they wait until the time was right, until her assignment here was over? Because once Chuck wasn't her client, he could be more than her friend.

As she rinsed the shampoo from her hair, Sarah considered this idea. Over the last two weeks, her investigation had picked up steam. She was fairly certain who was the person behind the murder of Bob Gerheart, the attacks on Stephen and Chuck, even the cell phone bomb: Martin Rosebreen, a small-time electronics manufacturer who used to be based in San Francisco. He had moved to LA only to find that Gerheart and Bartowski had the market cornered between their two companies. The potential merger between the two companies, after years of fighting, would have spelled Rosebreen's doom. So everything he had done, allegedly, was to keep Bartowski Electronics and Gerheart Gears at each other's throats.

She just needed more proof, some kind of smoking gun to tie Rosebreen to the chain of events. Then the job would be done except for the paperwork, and she could find out just what this thing with Chuck might be.

He was dangerous. A man that she liked, that she found interesting and charming and engaging, as well as finding him attractive in a stomach-fluttering, knees-weakening way … a man that she wanted to touch and kiss while drinking martinis and laughing.

Running towards danger instead of away from it was the hallmark of a Pinkerton agent. It was what she was good at. But somehow, Sarah suspected that in this case, she'd be tested to her limits. Because every instinct she had said to run. Run far, far away while pushing down all these strange feelings. Pushing them down until she could forget about them.

But somehow, Sarah doubted she could forget Chuck Bartowski.

End.