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 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: We don't own Chuck or The Thin Man series. And we're making no monetary profit from this story.
Author's Note: I told you it would be soon. I'm going to try to get these out as fast as I can so that DATG readers have lots to read! Sorry we left you in such a lurch all of this time! We were like Sarah and you all were Chuck. Sorry sorry!
Just FYI, dettiot and I switched things up for the "Do Paris" chapters. She wrote the Chuck POV sections and I wrote the Sarah POV sections. And let me tell you, it was a freaking blast. We wrote in google doc until 4 am her time because we were having that much fun! Hope it's fun for all of you to read, too!
Part 2 of "The Detective and the Tech Guy Do Paris" is coming soon to a computer with internet capabilities near you!
-SC
XOXOXOXO
The Detective and the Tech Guy Do Paris, Part 1
As a chilly breeze skipped through the streets of Paris and sent gray clouds scudding across the setting sun, Chuck Bartowski slid his hands deeper into his coat pockets. Perhaps it was because he had only ever lived in California, but this weather felt really raw and cold. It looked like it would rain at any moment, making him grateful that he had taken the advice of the doorman at his hotel and accepted the offered umbrella when he had left earlier this afternoon.
Also, rain would match his mood. Because being in the City of Love, during the Christmas season, all alone? It was enough to make Santa Claus say "Bah, humbug."
Bartowski Electronics was looking to expand into Europe, and given his father's dislike for travel and distrust of the Transportation Security Administration, Chuck had gotten the assignment. He had spent the last month crisscrossing the Continent, having meetings and wining and dining various businessmen and government officials.
At first, he had been glad to be here. He thought a change of scenery might help him with the little problem of his broken heart. But being away from the familiar and his normal routine … it gave him too much time to think. To think about Sarah and wonder just what she was doing right now.
She was probably kicking the ass of some criminal, looking beautiful and graceful even as the sweat rolled down her face, sliding along her long, elegant neck into the shadow of her cleavage—
Chuck swallowed and gave his head a shake. He couldn't let himself go down that path. Not just because it would lead to him alone in a cold shower, feeling even more empty and lonely, but because … because although in some ways it was easier to think about her beauty, Sarah Walker was so much more than a woman he hadn't slept with.
She was the woman he was in love with.
Ever since the morning two months ago when Morgan had snapped him out of his self-deluded funk, Chuck had been trying to analyze his feelings for Sarah. Trying to figure out how he could cope with the love he felt for her when there seemed to be no hope of anything happening between them.
It had been four months since he had seen her. Four long months since the day Sarah had wrapped up the case, kissed him, and left California behind. And although every atom in his body wanted to search the earth to find her and learn what she felt for him, he wouldn't do that.
The ball was in her court. She knew where he was. And until she reached out to him, he wouldn't chase after her. It had taken hours of thinking over what had happened between them, until he realized she must have been so shaken by the potential in a relationship with him that she felt her only choice was running away.
He hoped that was the case, at least. Hoped that she had been as shaken as he was and had reacted instinctively, instead of any other darker reason for fleeing from him.
A swirl of wind announced the arrival of the rain. Chuck quickly unfolded the long black umbrella and lifted it above his head, holding it steady and picking up his pace. He was still fifteen minutes' walk from his hotel, and the last thing he wanted was to add a cold to his problems.
XOXOXOXO
So much for this disguise, Sarah thought to herself as she dropped her black wig that now resembled a wet dog into the plastic bag and tossed it in the trashcan. As she slammed the lid back onto the can to diffuse the smell, she breathed out and pulled her glasses off, followed by the rubber nose.
She hadn't expected the rain to hit so suddenly, but at least it had been after she left her charge in the hands of another Pinkerton agent. Sarah had just gotten to the end of the street when the rain began, ruining her wig and wetting her coat, and quite nearly melting the prosthetic nose off of her face.
Ducking into the nearby souvenir shop, she wiped her feet on the doormat and smiled at the shopkeeper, her eyes darting around the place for something that would help her in the rain.
Wonderful agent you are, Walker, going out on a day like this with no umbrella.
Just her luck, she spotted an umbrella stand filled with brightly colored umbrellas, behind which a bouquet of white flowers was arranged on the table. It didn't matter that they weren't even gardenias. They were white and beautiful, and she could almost smell them, even from five feet away.
Stupid Paris with its stupid beautiful everything. Even with the distraction of work, and the sights and sounds of the most romantic city in the world—and there it was, right there. The problem with accepting this stupid mission she thought would be so good for her. It was in the most romantic city in the world. The "City of Love".
Getting out of the states was supposed to clear her head, and maybe even clear her heart. But it had only taken fifteen minutes of being in the city before she realized what a mistake it had been. Now, five days later, as she paid for her vibrant red umbrella, tucked a thankfully dry strand of hair behind her ear, and walked back into the rain, she had decided that loneliness was quite possibly the worst damn thing in the entire world.
If she were anywhere else, she could just go back to her hotel room, curl up in bed, and get lost in a book—or some hot cider doused with rum. But because she was here, in this city where everyone seemed to lose themselves in the feel of the place, get caught up in self-serving melancholy or nostalgia or pure happiness, she couldn't help but get swept into her own dark mood.
Everything was shimmering from the rain—the streets, the leaves of the trees, the tops of the umbrellas passing by. Then there was the relaxing whoosh of cars buzzing past, sloshing through the puddles in the street. Instead of moping, she should be enjoying this. But no matter how much she reminded herself of this, it didn't change the fact that she just wanted to mope. She wanted to roll her eyes when she spotted the teenage couple laughing as they got soaked, clutching each other's hands as they ran past her.
And she wanted to think about Chuck. Yes, four months had gone by since she got on the plane to Chicago without looking back. But God, she'd more than made up for it by looking back a billion times since then.
As she was looking back now. In the Paris rain. All she could focus on was how much warmer her hand would be if it was in his, and how if he were here, she would probably love this rain instead of being totally unmoved by it. Because his inherent love for life in general would overflow onto her, as it had so often in California.
Chuck Bartowski would gush over Paris in the rain. And what it did to the cobblestones. And how much better things tasted, how much more alive things looked. She tried to embrace the ghost of Chuck's enthusiasm and warmth, and see the city the way he would, but all it did was make her feel more empty—and more alone.
XOXOXOXO
Pulling his coat closer with one hand, Chuck tried to not mind the rain and the wind. After all, he was in Paris! A city he'd never gotten to visit before, a city filled with amazing sights like the Eiffel Tower and the Louvre, Notre Dame and the Bois de Boulogne. Even if he was alone, there was still plenty to be happy about.
And he wasn't even convincing himself with this.
Letting out a sigh, Chuck shifted his umbrella and waited at the intersection to leave the busy avenue for a smaller, narrower, quieter street. At the end of that street, he'd be only steps from his hotel. Steps from his temporary sanctuary, from the place where he could shed his professional, adult layer and settle into his gloominess.
He just … he wanted to see Sarah. He wanted to know if she was okay. Through close-to-superhuman strength, he hadn't taken advantage of his resources to track her. He hadn't even Googled her.
She wanted space. If she wanted him to know where she was, if she had wanted to maintain contact, she would have left her number with him. A number that would actually work, instead of being disconnected within twenty-four hours of leaving California.
For a moment, he let himself go down the darkest path. Consider that he had been monumentally wrong and Sarah had no interest in him. That she had just been playing along, trying to keep him compliant so she could protect him.
No. That wasn't what it was. She felt something. He knew it. He knew. Sarah Walker might be an experienced, talented Pinkerton agent, but she was also a woman. And she had shown all the signs of a woman who was interested in a man. Interested in him.
Sarah also hadn't seemed ready to admit that. He wasn't sure why, but until she was ready to come to him and talk to him, he'd just have to wait.
But God, he wished he could see her.
And this traffic signal was taking forever to change. Chuck shifted his feet and let his eyes roam over the people on the opposite side of the street. A bright red umbrella caught his gaze and he flicked his eyes down to see who was holding it. It was just an instinct: see something that attracted you and take a second look.
For a moment, he thought he was hallucinating. Because it wasn't possible that Sarah Walker was holding that red umbrella, was it? It was just too much of a coincidence, running into her like this in Paris of all places, finally crossing paths with the woman he loved in the City of Love, wasn't it?
She hadn't noticed him yet, giving him the chance to stare at her. To take in every square inch of her.
Four months away from her hadn't made her beauty fade in his memories. But the real thing was so much better. Just watching her breathe, seeing the wind stir tendrils of her hair … it made him feel like the world made sense again.
Yet looking at her, as good as it was, also made him worry. Because she looked tired. Her skin was pale, allowing him to see faint dark circles under her eyes even from this distance. Her shoulders were slightly rounded, like she was hunching under her umbrella. It made him wonder why she looked so tired. No, not just tired.
Sarah Walker looked sad.
Shoulders brushing against his own made him realize the light had finally, finally changed. The groups of people on either end of the crosswalk were crossing the street. Sarah was crossing the street, coming closer and closer and closer …
Chuck watched as she walked, her eyes flickering around. Her distracted gaze passed over him, sending a shiver through him. And when her eyes widened and darted back to lock on his, Chuck felt like he could hear the small click as the universe shifted gears and suddenly started turning again.
For a moment, she gaped at him from her place in the street, fifteen feet away. He could see her hand clutch her umbrella tighter until her knuckles turned white and her throat flutter as she swallowed. Then, with that determination and courage he loved about her, she lifted her chin and picked up her feet, finishing her journey across the street.
As she walked up to the curb, he stepped back, giving her room to get out of the street. And perhaps making sure that he didn't accidentally brush against her. Because in the midst of his whirling mind, he thought that if he touched her, if he got that close to her, there would be no way he would be able to restrain himself.
Sarah came to a stop less than a foot from him. Close enough for the wind to lift her scent towards him, the fragrance that was more than just her perfume and her soap and her shampoo. Something that made his whole body stand to attention.
Gazing at her, seeing her again, Chuck felt his own surge of determination. The last time he had seen her, he had let her walk away. He hadn't followed her or tried to find her. But he couldn't do that again. He couldn't let her go without getting some sign from her. Or at least not without showing her that if she wanted him, he was all hers.
He pressed his lips together for a moment, then he spoke quietly. "Hello, Sarah."
Her tongue flashed out and licked her lips and he nearly groaned. But he held it back, because he wanted to hear what she would say. Needed to hear it. And she didn't disappoint. Better than his memories, better than his dreams, was the sound of her voice.
"Hello, Chuck," she said, looking up at him from underneath her umbrella and making his mind go blissfully, happily blank.
XOXOXOXO
Sarah looked up distractedly when she heard a commotion ahead. Two men were arguing on the sidewalk. She could just walk around it, she thought idly, or she could just cross the street now instead of two blocks ahead, and avoid the mess altogether.
She huddled a little further into her coat, which was still damp, damn it. And then she turned and stood at the crosswalk, not bothering to pay attention to the people stopped on either side of her.
The worst part was that she had decided to move forward with her life, march straight ahead and continue to do what she did best. She was a detective, one of Pinkerton's best. It was what she knew, and it was simple, even when it was challenging. Because she could control that part of her life. And as much as she'd attempted to do just that, the pressed gardenia would slip out of the pages of her notebook, almost as if it was haunting her, reminding her that there was a man out there who was literally everything she wanted, everything she needed. Reminding her that she'd left him behind.
At least, physically. Mentally and emotionally she'd dragged him along with her everywhere she went.
Sarah even bought a new notebook.
And then she took the old one in her purse anyways, leaving the brand new leather notebook in a desk drawer in Chicago, with nothing inside of it but her initials neatly scrawled on the inside cover.
Maybe that was it. When she finished up in Paris, she would switch her old notebook with the new. Maybe seeing her notes about him, and seeing the gardenia he gave her, was too powerful. She felt the push of the crowd at her back and stepped off of the curb, cursing herself for not paying attention to her surroundings, wondering if this was how people got hit by buses in big cities.
Daydreaming of lost love.
How corny was that?
And yet, that didn't make her thoughts of him lessen, although she did glance up at the end of the street, eyeing her destination, before she slipped back into semi-consciousness. Even in her semi-consciousness, though, she knew him.
She knew the dark curls, the warm amber eyes, the wide-set shoulders, his exact height in relation to hers…and those damned adorable black Converse sneakers. The idiot wore canvas shoes out in the rain. Everyone knows you don't wear canvas shoes in the rain.
It was difficult to breathe as she lifted her eyes from the wet pavement to meet his and her feet stopped moving, as though she were attached to a pair of tanks instead of wearing boots. Her insides turned to water, and she thought distantly that he looked like a lost kid, waiting at the counter in a grocery store while his parents were called over the loud speaker. And even with that lost look, he still looked relieved, like a man who'd been submerged underwater for an hour and finally came up for a breath of air.
And she wondered why not even a tiny part of her wanted to run in the other direction, just run and not look back. Every single fibre of her being was willing her forward, so she took a step. And then another. Trusting her feet knew what they were doing, she lifted her chin, met his gaze solidly, and walked determinedly (albeit very slowly) to the curb.
He stepped back and she joined him on the sidewalk, ignoring the soft curse of the person behind her who had to sidestep quickly to avoid getting poked in the eye by the points of her red umbrella.
She'd been the one to leave. She'd been the one to walk away from the—whatever had been between them. She knew what had been between them, she just didn't want to say it. Even inside of her own head. Because as she stood here in front of him, attempting to hide behind her mask and knowing she was failing, it was obviously still there. Because her heart was hammering in her chest and her extremities were tingling like crazy and she couldn't feel her nose, although…that could have just been the cold.
And then he said, "Hello, Sarah" and she thought for one absurd moment that she might cry. His voice had a tremor in it, like he hadn't spoken in months. And he really hadn't, had he? That was ridiculous. Of course he had. It was just that he hadn't spoken to her. And the selfish part of her thought, Same difference.
"Hello, Chuck," she said back, her voice oddly steady and clear.
Say something. Say something, Walker.
But she didn't. She just stood and stared at him, feeling a breeze sweep under her umbrella and shift it in her grip. She took the opportunity to look away from him and look at her hands instead as she readjusted them on the handle. But no matter how much she wanted to resist, her eyes drifted right back up to his. He looked like one of those wax figures in Madame Tussauds Wax Museum.
But unlike the wax figures, he was real. He was finally real and standing right in front of her, the curls on top of his head damp even though he held an umbrella and she had the momentary image of Chuck letting the rain fall on his head for a few moments on purpose, before he opened his umbrella, for no other reason than to just enjoy it. And she felt her insides fall to pieces when she thought of him that way.
"You…" He chuckled a little, his crooked smile a little sheepish. "I just…" He swallowed, looked at his soaked through sneakers, then back at her face. "How are you?"
"Good," she replied automatically, her voice rebelling against every other part of her that was yelling terrible and missing you so much it hurts and lost and tired and filled with regret and a number of other things that were leaps and bounds truer than good.
"That's great!" he chirped.
"And you?"
"Great! I mean, I'm good. Just…you know…I'm good." He nodded a bit vigorously, that tell-tale line embedded deep in between his eyebrows that said there was so much more going on inside of him than what he was saying.
And because she knew how that felt, she wanted to start over and tell him the truth. That he was the best thing she'd ever had in her life, and she hadn't even had him. She'd danced around him a bit, kissed him, and left him before it got any further. And yet, he was still absolutely the best and most important thing in her life.
Instead she readjusted her grip on her umbrella again and patted the front of her coat absently. "So. What are you…what are you, uh…?
"Business. For my dad. The company," he swept in, saving her from having to struggle through the rest of her question. Like always, extending himself for her. And after she most likely hurt him. Most likely…God, Walker. Look at him.
He looked so rough. Not that rough. Still just as handsome, just as put together, and still so very tall. But there were bags under his eyes and he still hadn't flashed that grin she loved. And his wonderful eyes weren't as bright and filled with wonder.
"You guys have clients in Europe?"
"We're expanding," he said, swallowing thickly, his eyelids fluttering. The rain was beginning to pelt down on them harder but she ignored it because she was standing in front of Chuck Bartowski for the first time in four months, when she was sure she'd never see him again.
She had dreamed of this moment for so long. And yet all she could do was smile weakly at him and nod. "Congratulations. That's fantastic."
"Thank you. What are you, uh…?"
"Mission."
He thumped his forehead with his palm and chuckled a bit. God, she'd missed the sound of that. So much. "Of course a mission. That's exciting. Mission in Paris."
She shrugged a shoulder. "Part of the job."
Sarah could feel herself grow a little colder. Because his shoulders slumped a little. "Well I should go." Why? Why was she saying that? She couldn't do this. But really, what was left of the shambles that she'd left between them when she ran away from him four months ago? This was easily one of the most awkward, and yet still one of the warmest, exchanges she'd ever had with another person.
"Right!" he blurted. "Yes. Me too. God. So much…so much to do. Meetings. You know." His laugh was incredibly forced and his eyes were suddenly so sad and she wanted to cry again. Because he didn't deserve this. He deserved so much better.
"In the middle of a mission."
And he nodded, but then they were just staring again, and she knew that she was about to say goodbye to him for real this time. She wasn't running, leaving him in a lurch. She was just…saying goodbye.
Chuck stepped close, tilting his umbrella back and stooping under hers. She couldn't move. If anything, she leaned closer as his lips closed in. And then instead, his cheek brushed against hers, his lips lightly ghosting against her ear, his free hand's fingers curling around her arm gently.
"I almost feel sorry for the bad guys," he whispered and her eyelids fluttered, her breath leaving her body in a rush through parted lips. She subconsciously turned her face a little into his as he finished, "Nevertheless…Good luck, Sarah."
His hand squeezed her arm, and then she was alone beneath her umbrella and he was back under his, leaving some space between them. "Thank you."
There was a long pause as she gathered all of her strength, fighting against the pain searing through her—it was real pain, literally clenching at her chest, and yet she said it anyways. "G'bye."
His eyebrows pressed together for a moment, and then he smoothed his features quickly and gave her a closed-mouthed, but certainly not painless, smile. "Bye."
Sarah turned on her heel, not quite knowing if she was walking in the right direction, but she trusted her feet knew what they were doing.