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: We've reached a turning point in the relationship between the detective and the tech guy! WHATEVER WILL HAPPEN?! Steampunk . Chuckster wrote this one! Enjoy! - SC
XOXOXOXOXOXO
Sarah turned her cell phone over in her hand distractedly as she stood in the elevator that would take her to the floor with her office. It was barely seven thirty in the morning and she was wide awake thanks to that burning hot cup of lava—or was it coffee? She really wasn't sure, considering how little she'd been able to taste after scorching her taste buds off. She hadn't needed the caffeine after that, but she drank the stuff anyway.
What she really wanted to do instead of standing in this damn elevator on her way to work was to be at home, in the comfort of her apartment, with a blanket over her head. And maybe some hot tea—but not too hot. She'd had enough lava for one day.
And God, even the thoughts coming from her own brain were Chuckified now. Lava?
She sighed loudly and let her eyes drift shut as she leaned against the rail behind her.
Last night had been an incredibly long night. She wasn't working a case at the moment, and in fact she had finished her latest one a few days earlier. It had been routine, obvious, uncomplicated. And now she had her report she'd written up yesterday afternoon and finalized last night tucked in her briefcase that she held at her side.
That had been the easy part of last night. But then she had decided to call Chuck, hearing his voice being a much pleasanter alternative to watching television or reading a book until she fell asleep.
As the ding that accompanied the elevator doors sliding open sounded, she sighed again and swept into the hallway. Part of her wished she hadn't called him at all, considering that decision had led her to having another sleepless night.
Chuck hadn't answered at first, which had been strange, but not unheard of. So she had called again ten minutes later, wondering if he might be in the shower (which conjured up all sorts of images) or perhaps in some sort of dinner meeting when he hadn't answered the first time.
He'd answered the second time, but his voice was stilted, very business-like. He'd called her Eddie, a tone of warning in his voice, and then he'd said weird things about meetings. That was when she'd heard a voice in the background. Who is calling at this hour and don't they know you aren't on call every second of the day, and tell them it's dinnertime, Chuck not at the dinner table, you're just like your father.
It had absolutely been Mary Bartowski's crisp, smooth voice. And Sarah had felt foolish at realizing that it had been dinner time in Los Angeles. She'd apologized to him, and he'd told her it was okay and promised to call her back. Though not with the same warm tone he usually used when talking to her on the phone.
But that phone call had jarred her, mixed things up in her head and her heart, and frankly, it had left her out of sorts. About a lot of things. It was silly, really. And anyone else might have laughed at the tone of his voice when he called her Eddie—the panic and the way he'd rambled about some sort of computer part. The poor sweet guy. But she hadn't laughed after she hung up. Because the reason he had acted that way, the reason he'd called her Eddie and rambled nervously, was that he had been with his family.
And his family wasn't supposed to know he was dating anyone, let alone her.
It was like getting kicked in the gut. Having Chuck hide her from his mom and dad, and if Devon and Ellie were down from San Francisco, he'd hidden her from them, too.
She'd never experienced it firsthand. Chuck told her about how Ellie had pushed him about going on a date with a doctor friend of hers, and how he'd ended up snapping and saying something incredibly mean. Comparing her to their mother, of all things. She didn't know Mary Bartowski all that well, nor did she know Ellie any better, but there was no way the sweet, warm doctor she'd met at the semi-formal beach party all those months ago was anything like the icy woman who'd chewed her out more than once.
Sarah saw how much he regretted it. And if that wasn't enough, he'd verbally repeated it over and over. She knew how much it hurt him to be keeping her a secret from the one person in his family he cared about the most. And she knew that keeping the secret for this long was taking its toll on him.
But until last night, it hadn't sunk in all the way. Not really. As much as she thought she understood, as much as it upset her to see him hurting, she'd been so disconnected from it while skipping around the globe for work. She knew how selfish that sounded. But she had no one she truly cared for besides him. Keeping him a secret from her superiors, from her peers at Pinkerton, was easy. Because they didn't need to know her business. They didn't need to know there was a man in Burbank who was the most important thing in her life. All they needed to know was that she was a Pinkerton agent with a fantastic record at the agency.
But hitting the end button on her phone had been accompanied by an ache in her chest. Chuck wasn't ashamed of her. He didn't want to keep her a secret. But she was dragging this out, asking him to give her time. And last night he had done just as she'd asked. And he'd done it so well it hurt.
Despite feeling like a total hypocrite, she'd promptly sat down at her desk and moped, thinking about Chuck telling his family that Eddie was calling for such and such reason about work. Thinking about his mom snapping at him about answering his phone at the dinner table. And none of them knew that "Eddie" was actually Chuck's girlfriend who he had been secretly dating for more than six months now.
Once Chuck finally called back an hour later, she let it go to her voicemail. She wasn't upset with him and she knew it was out of character and slightly childish not to answer his call when he was only returning her call, but she was confused and trapped in her head. Talking to Chuck about it would give him hope where maybe it wasn't warranted. If she admitted that she didn't like the thought of him pretending she was some guy from his work when she called him in front of his family, he might think she no longer wanted to keep their relationship a secret.
The honest to God truth was that she wasn't sure what she wanted. Except that she wanted him. No, even more than that, she wanted him to be happy. And as long as they continued to keep their relationship a secret from the people he cared about, she knew he would be unhappy.
She had yet to actually listen to the voicemail he left when she didn't answer last night. She knew it would be an adorable, long-winded apology. He wouldn't bring up the fact that she was the one implementing the Don't-Tell-Anyone rule. Ever since they talked on the roof a few weeks ago, he had tiptoed around the subject. He had been clear about them being on the same page. They weren't going to move forward until they were both ready. But he was ready and they both knew she wasn't, and it was like he was putting the ball in her court. That in and of itself was so nerve-wracking.
Sarah slowed a little outside of her office door, unlocking her phone and pulling up Chuck's missed call, looking at his picture that popped up on her screen. With everything happening in her head and in her heart lately, Sarah wasn't sure she could listen to Chuck being sweet, even in voicemail form. She wasn't sure she could listen to the thread of worry in his voice that he would definitely try to hide from her. Worry that she hadn't answered the phone because she was upset with him.
She unlocked her office door and trudged inside, pouting horribly.
Letting the door shut again behind her, she put her briefcase on her desk and sunk into the magnificently comfortable leather chair, closing her eyes.
She should have just answered the phone and talked to him about it. This was Chuck. She should have just told him she was confused. He wouldn't have done anything besides listen to her and support her, help her talk through it. And that was what she needed, wasn't it? She needed her Chuck sounding board. Granted, he wasn't exactly an unbiased sounding board in this case, but she owed him the truth. She owed him an explanation.
The intense reaction she'd had to the awkward phone call the night before left her a little scared. Because of what that might mean.
She sympathized with Chuck and reassured him whenever he had to lie to his family. She could see how it left him more than a little unsettled. But she feared she hadn't really understood it until last night.
Sarah didn't like her boyfriend lying to his family about their relationship any more than he liked it. But there was so much she still had to consider. And that was why she'd been afraid to answer the phone last night.
Coward.
With a soft growl, she picked up her phone again, unlocked the screen and pressed play, holding the phone to her ear as she turned her chair away from the door and peered out of her large office window at the sprawling Chicago skyline.
Chuck's voice finally drifted into her ear and she unconsciously melted further into her chair.
"Hey, Sarah. It's Chuck. But y-you know it's Chuck. Obviously. My name probably came up on your screen. That's—That's neither here nor there. Uh, I just wanted to apologize for earlier. I am so sorry. That was legitimately the worst but I had to think up somethin' really fast because my whole family and Morgan were looking right at me when I answered. I suppose I could've just not answered. I probably should've just done that, but I didn't want you to think I didn't want to talk to you because I did. I-I, uh, I still do. Want to talk to you, I mean. If that's okay. If you wanna call me back, I'll be up late tonight. And I'm home now so…I'm all alone. Sorry. This message is crazy long. I just wanted to say sorry. For calling you Eddie. That was—That was so dumb. I'm usually good at thinking on my feet but my mom has this really terrifying Cyclops visor laser beam stare and I totally lost my cool. God, I just keep talking. I miss you. I really do. I miss you so much. And I l—" His voice cut out for a second and she thought maybe her phone cut him off. "Just, uh…call me back when you have the time, Sarah. I'd love to talk to ya. Bye, baby."
Sarah bit her lip and pressed replay immediately, listening to it again. She should have answered the phone. She'd obviously made him nervous. He couldn't really think she was mad at him for trying to cover in front of his family, though, could he? What sort of a girlfriend would she be if that made her upset with him? Although, she had to admit, she was upset. Still very upset. But it wasn't Chuck she was upset with. She was upset with herself.
For making a mess of things.
She couldn't even control her thoughts. They were everywhere.
"Ahem."
Her eyes popped open and she hit end on the message, sitting up straight and spinning her chair around to face whoever the hell had walked into her office without knocking.
But of course.
Detective Daniel Shaw.
She worked with some people who operated under major superiority complexes, but Daniel Shaw was the only one who would walk into someone's office without bothering to knock. She had a couple of choice words in her head that perfectly described his person, but that was the sort of thing she only said about him to Chuck, and even then that was after imbibing a few of her man's remarkable martinis.
"Did I catch you at a bad time?"
Like you care.
"No, no. It's just that usually people knock before entering someone else's office." Her closed-mouth smile was filled with fake sweetness, the sarcasm seeping out of her every pore. And she didn't give a single shit.
Shaw made a face that was as smirkish as it was surprised. "Have a bad morning, Walker?"
"Not particularly. Why don't you get on with it, Shaw?" She wasn't in the mood to play games. She owed Chuck Bartowski a phone call, and if he was in the middle of a meeting or rushing to work, she would leave a message. And dispel him of any notion that she was upset with him.
He held up his hands in a patronizingly defensive manner and smirked harder. "I retract my statement. It seems more like you and your boyfriend are having a little trouble in paradise."
Sarah squinted up at him. "What?"
"Long-distance relationships." He tsked. "They're pretty tough. Or so I hear."
She couldn't decide whether to play it off as though he were barking up the wrong tree, or just own up to it. He couldn't know. There was no possible way. Perhaps he suspected, and she could tell by the look on his face, like he'd just won a blue ribbon for biggest doucheface, that he thought he knew. But he was bluffing. It was a lucky guess. She wasn't going to let him get under her skin.
There was no need to jump the gun.
"Why are you in my office, Detective Shaw?"
"All business and no play, huh? Strange. That's not what I hear." His lips flicked in a quick smile, his eyebrows popping, and then he backed towards the door. Fury swept over her like cold ice, so suddenly that she nearly threw something at his horrid face. As he opened her office door, he smiled again. "Senior Agent Graham wants that report on the Durban case. He said as soon as possible."
"Right. Fine."
It took all she had not to say those words through clenched teeth. God, he was such a prick.
He sent her one last look, a long one, full of some sort of perverse pleasure. Like he was trying to drink in the moment. And it made her feel like tiny bugs with spindly legs were scattering up her spine. She shivered, studiously looking down at her briefcase until he finally stepped out and shut the door behind him.
She sent a curse through her teeth at the door where Shaw had just been smirking, then pulled the file with her report on the Durban case out, slamming the lid to her briefcase shut and walking around her desk.
Detective Sarah Walker turned the sound off on her phone, slipped it in the back pocket of her charcoal slacks, and left her office, winding through the hallways that led to her superior's much larger and grandiose office.
She tried her best not to dwell on Shaw. That parting shot had stung fiercely. Not because she was ashamed of what she had with Chuck, but because, best case scenario, Shaw thought she was dating someone who she had worked with. But most likely, Shaw probably thought she was sleeping with a client—ex-client. He was right, but he couldn't know that for sure. And she sought to ignore the entire exchange for her meeting with her superior. Her fellow detective's bluff would only serve to distract her from her meeting with Graham.
Sarah swept into Langston Graham's outer office. His assistant looked up from his desk. "Detective Walker. You can go right in. He's expecting you."
"Thanks, Williams."
She paused at the door, her hand poised to knock, holding the file close to her chest with her other arm.
Her soft knock was met with a gruff "Come in" and she swept into the room, smiling politely at her superior and erstwhile mentor.
"Good morning, Detective Walker. Sarah."
"Good morning, Sir. I have the Durban report."
"Yes! Yes, thank you."
"Shall I leave it on your desk?"
He gave her a steady look, narrowing his eyes for a moment, then shaking his head and reaching out. "No, I'll take it."
With a nod, she crossed his office and thrust the file out for him to take. He did so, flipping it open and scanning the report. "Well, Sarah. As always, you did impeccable work."
"Thank you, Sir. It certainly wasn't the most challenging case I've ever been assigned to." She smiled a little wanly. She wanted to get back to her office, or better yet, since apparently there were assholes who walked through closed doors without knocking in this building, maybe she could go down to the small outdoor courtyard and call Chuck from there.
"Well, not for you, perhaps. But you are one of Pinkerton's very best, Sarah. That's a fact."
Sarah felt gratitude swim through her, and she wasn't entirely above pride, either. "That's very kind of you, Sir. Thank you."
He waved his hand and she thought that was a dismissal, so she nodded and turned to leave.
"Sarah?"
She stopped and turned back, folding her hands in front of her in a professional, upright pose. "Yes, Sir?"
"You really are one of our best. If not our very best. Which is why I was reluctant to approach you on the subject. It would've taken me a lot longer but..." He sighed deeply, setting both palms on his desk and looking at her through his eyelashes.
"Sir?" She tilted her head in confusion.
"Why don't you take a seat?"
Sarah stayed focused, even though her heart was racing and her mind was on the brink of conjuring up every terrible thing this ominous invitation could mean. She sat in the chair across from Graham and watched as he took yet another deep breath.
"I'm not going to do you the disservice of beating around the bush, Sarah. It has been brought to my attention that you have been engaging in a romantic relationship with a Pinkerton client." He met her gaze steadily, and while she realized distantly that she should be grateful for the respectful, mature manner in which Graham was tackling this conflict, she was too busy drowning in her own anger.
"With a client?"
"Yes. What do you have to say about these allegations, Detective Walker?" He folded his hands together on his desktop in a very diplomatic manner.
"I am not sleeping with a Pinkerton client." Which was technically true.
"Then you haven't kept contact with, erm…" Graham thumbed through some papers on his desk, then pulled a file out, opening it and holding it at an angle where Sarah couldn't see what he was looking at. "Mr. Charles Bartowski of Bartowski Electronics."
"Charles Bartowski? Sir, his case ended a year ago, if my memory serves me right. I ended it myself." She pressed a hand to her chest and crossed her legs gracefully.
"Well, I have received several reports since then saying you did not in fact end it."
"Pardon?"
"You solved the case, Detective. And you did quality work, even down to the detailed report I found on my desk. I went through it and…" He pursed his lips as he paused. "There isn't much about young Charles Bartowski in your report outside of the two incidents in which he was targeted."
"I-I don't understand what that has to do with anything. I included in the report what I thought was pertinent."
"Yes, I know. You see, Sarah, I read through this report last night very thoroughly. And according to you, Chuck wasn't targeted the second time. The drive-by on the sidewalk outside of Bartowski Electronics. A very bizarre situation."
"It was, Sir. I've never seen anything like it."
"Nor I." He thumbed through what she knew now had to be her report on Chuck's case, and then he stopped, dragging his fingers over the page before tapping it and looking up at her. "You say right here that you heard the car approaching but only after Mister Bartowski yelled your name to warn you. He tackled you to the ground."
Sarah stared at him directly to make sure he couldn't see her nervousness. She knew what he was getting at. But it still wasn't sufficient proof. Not even in the slightest.
"He tackled you twice, didn't he?" Graham didn't wait for her answer. "Now, you also said Mister Bartowski was injured in the attack."
"He was."
"Why would a rich, successful tech guy risk his life for a mere detective assigned to his case, Sarah?"
Because he's exceptional, she wanted to say. Because he's a better man than you. Because he's the best person I've ever met.
Instead of saying any of those things, she pulled her lips between her teeth and shrugged. "Impulse, perhaps?"
"Or because you were having an affair. Or should I say are?" He raised an eyebrow, shut the folder, and pushed it away from him so that he could steeple his fingers, his elbows on his desk top.
Sarah stayed silent.
"Detective Walker, as I'm sure you know, it is a definite violation of the Pinkerton rules and regulations to fraternize romantically with our clients. And while Stephen J. Bartowski, Charles' father, was the primary name on the case, and because his name was on the check we received after the case was solved, his son still counts as a client. By involving yourself with him, you violated this establishment's code."
"Am I allowed some sort of rebuttal?" she asked calmly.
"You have my ear, Detective."
"Thank you." She cleared her throat and sat a little straighter in her chair. "I'm afraid I'm not entirely sure what this meeting is about. What I gather is that someone came to you and accused me of having an affair with a Pinkerton client."
Graham nodded once.
"And yet I wasn't consulted by anyone about this accusation."
"That's why you're here now."
"To be consulted? Or to be accused?" she couldn't help asking.
"Now, look here. No one is accusing you of anything. I'm just trying to get to the bottom of this."
"All you have as proof is my report that Mister Bartowski saved my life? That's it?"
"No, that's not it. Detective Shaw came to me numerous times over the past few months, insisting that you were breaking protocol and sleeping with a Pinkerton client. I ignored him completely, never putting any stock in it, until…"
"Until what?" She was absolutely seething.
"He brought me proof, Sarah."
She tried not to let anything show, and she thought she succeeded, but proof? What sort of proof could Shaw have had that he hadn't contrived himself? She didn't say anything, and instead she kept watching her superior, waiting for him to continue.
He sighed again and pinched the bridge of his nose. When you were on a case in Oslo, there was a large bouquet of flowers delivered to your hotel room. The flower shop they were ordered from charged a Mastercard from the US for the arrangement and delivery. That card was issued to one Charles Irving Bartowski who resides in Burbank, California." He paused, watching her closely. "There was an incredibly expensive necklace from Tiffany's as well, I believe. And there's no misinterpreting that."
"Where, exactly, did you get this from?"
"Detective Shaw brought it to me. He has a copy of the invoice the flower shop sent to Mister Bartowski, and an invoice for the necklace, also sent to Bartowski. And signed statements from employees at your hotel who claim they brought both the flowers and the necklace to your room."
Sarah continued her silence. She wanted to find Shaw again and beat his face in. If only she'd known what he had done when she had him in her office, right in front of her. He would be dead by now.
The only way Shaw could have found out about the gardenias and the necklace was if he had actively snooped, actively searched personal information, maybe even threatened some of the hotel workers for said information.
It was disgusting and it was sad. That didn't mean she would be able to stop herself from hitting him in the face when she saw him again.
"Way I see it, it's no one else's business who sends me what and when."
"Well, that's not entirely accurate, Sarah. If you're sleeping with a client, that's most definitely Pinkerton's business. Do you know how much damage a sexual relationship can be to a case such as this? This is a high profile case with high profile people. If word gets out that one of our detectives was sleeping with the client, our reputation as a serious and professional agency goes down the tubes."
Sarah frowned deeply. "So what is this, then?"
"We've run into situations like this before, though not often. And in each case, the detective in question was let go." Sarah jolted a little. "This is a serious issue, Sarah. And I need you to answer me truthfully. Are you and Charles Bartowski involved in a romantic relationship?"
Sarah Walker blinked at her superior, the man who had been her primary mentor since she was first recruited out of college. And she felt disappointment shoot through her. Disappointment in her employer, that glorious Pinkerton crest on her plaque that she hung on her office wall, and disappointment in Senior Agent Langston Graham. After her years of service, and her near perfect track record, they were taking Detective Daniel Shaw's word over her own. And yes, they had the invoices from her hotel in Oslo, but that was also a serious breach of her privacy. Maybe in the end, Shaw ended up proving she was in some sort of relationship with Chuck, but the way he had gone about getting that proof was absolutely unprofessional. It had to be. There was no other way he could have found out. And what about Chuck's privacy? That, especially, infuriated her-the breach of his trust as a former client of the agency.
And more infuriating than that was how Graham brought up the drive-by in her report before he showed her actual proof. Shaw must have come to him with the evidence of her relationship with Chuck and Graham had immediately gone through her report to look for clues. And her superior apparently decided it was further proof that she and Chuck were having sex when he read that the young man saved her life. Because no man in his right mind would ever save a woman's life unless they were having sex. She knew Chuck's feelings for her had certainly been the main cause of his selfless act that night. But she also knew that no one else would have done what he did. They wouldn't have thrown themselves in front of a bullet for the person they loved. It was all Chuck Bartowski. His truly wonderful heart and his bravery and his inherent self-sacrificing nature and everything else that made him greater than any other person she's ever met.
He was a miraculous human being. An incredible man. Absolutely one of a kind. Chuck Bartowski was one of those things that only happened to people in movies, she thought. That tremendous event that ended up changing the protagonist's life.
The detective suddenly realized that there was nothing else in her life, from the day she was born 'til now, that meant more to her than her tech guy. He was that one thing that she couldn't live without. The one thing she refused to let go of. Not for anything in the world.
And while she felt a sadness settle in the pit of her stomach, Detective Sarah Walker felt a surge of courage flood through her. Her backbone straightened. Her resolve hardened. And she looked straight at Senior Agent Graham.
"Agent Graham, Sir. I really don't think it matters whether I'm in a relationship with Charles Bartowski or not. You have everything in front of you, no matter what I say."
He sighed heavily, his shoulders sagging. "It's a simple yes or no. Are you sleeping with Charles Bartowski?"
"I'm one of the best detectives in this agency. My successes in the field have far outnumbered those of anyone else when they had been here the same number of years. It's safe to say, Agent Graham, that I am the best you have. I work tirelessly to get my cases solved quickly, efficiently, quietly. And I conduct my cases with a professionalism that I'm sure would make any of my Pinkerton predecessors proud. I am, all modesty aside, everything that a detective with the Pinkerton Detective Agency should be." She leaned a little closer. "And at this very moment, I'm sitting in my superior's office being asked whether I'm sleeping with Charles Bartowski? You do realize how ridiculous this is, don't you? Whether or not I'm having sex with someone has no bearing on my ability to do my job, Sir, and frankly, it's no one else's concern."
"Sarah, these are the rules. I don't make them. I just enforce them. So answer the question."
"What if I choose not to answer the question, Sir?"
"You would do that? I have the proof right here." She didn't answer, just staring at him hard, and he narrowed his eyes a little. "Sarah, if you don't answer, I'll have no choice but to let you go from this agency. You'll be asked to clear out your office within the next two days, and that'll be it for your career as a detective with Pinkerton."
At least he looked upset about it, she had to give him that. But there was a righteous fury flowing through her veins. She wouldn't relent.
"I'm asking one more time, Sarah. Please, stand up for yourself. Fight this accusation. Tell me you aren't sleeping with him even if you are. We can find a way to keep you here. You can go back to your office. Just answer the damn question. Are you sleeping with Charles Bartowski?"
Sarah found herself smiling. He was offering her a way out. Because he needed her. He needed her skills. He needed her talents. It was incredibly gratifying. And not for the first time, she knew she was appreciated here. That the long hours and the sacrifice paid off in a lot of ways, because she had gained the respect of at least Graham, if not all of her superiors. But that respect ended at the professional sphere. And that wasn't enough for her.
Langston Graham was begging her to say whatever she had to if it meant she could stay on as a Pinkerton Detective. But to keep her job, she would have to lie. About Chuck. She would have to lie about the single most important thing that had ever happened to her, the most fantastic part of her life. Chuck Bartowski was the one thing that was constantly rewarding. Whether it was a big thing like saving her from being hit by a spray of bullets, or a small thing like having a martini ready for her when she got home from her meeting with Shaw that time he visited her in Chicago.
She wasn't going to lie about him anymore. Not to anyone. There were other jobs. Other places out there where she could flourish, start a new career. She wasn't worried about that. But there was no "other" when it came to Chuck.
This place was great. Her career was fulfilling. And in spite of a few hardships and road bumps, she truly did love working here.
But it wasn't worth losing the nerdy, charming, lanky, brilliant computer genius that was probably at this moment sitting at his desk in Southern California mindlessly doodling on a notepad as he outlined another genius idea for Bartowski Electronics in his head.
Pinkerton was fantastic. But she would find someplace better. And if Chuck was there with her, it would be better. She had no doubt in her mind.
Sarah felt proud of herself as she rose to her feet and looked down at the less-imposing-than-usual figure of Langston Graham. "I have principles, Langston," she said quietly. "I know you do, too. And that's why I'm sure you'll understand if I elect to stay silent on that subject. Whether I admit to the relationship or not, the fact that I'm an asset to this agency still stands. And if what I do in my personal life is up for discussion by my colleagues, if that is more important to Pinkerton than my merits as a detective, go ahead and fire me. I'll walk out of this door, collect my things, and go."
"Sarah. You are being incredibly stubborn. All you have to do is—"
"None of you has the right to know the answer to that question. If keeping my private life private is stubborn, I'm damn happy to be so."
He sighed again and hung his head for a moment, and then he looked up at her with a disappointed and yet slightly respectful glint in his eye. Or maybe she was imagining the latter.
"Sarah Walker. As of this moment, you are no longer a detective with the Pinkerton Detective Agency. And can I just say, off the record, that I'm very sad to see you go."
She nodded, pressing her lips together. "I'm sad, too. Thank you for everything, Senior Agent Graham." She paused. "Langston."
Graham gave her a small, polite smile and stood, thrusting his hand out for her to take. She did. They shook hands. And she turned on her heel to walk out of his office. She wanted so badly to turn around and yell the truth. That she never slept with him during the case, and that staying away from him had been the hardest thing she had ever done in her life. She wanted to tell him that she might not have slept with Chuck Bartowski during the case, but she was sure as hell sleeping with him now. And that it ached sometimes when she woke up in some hotel bed without Chuck next to her.
And as Sarah opened the door and stepped through it, she wanted to turn around, look Graham straight in his face, and tell him that she loved Chuck Bartowski. Almost a year before, when she'd first kissed him, she hadn't known what to do about it.
But now, twenty minutes later, as she rode the elevator down to the ground floor holding a box filled with impersonal things from her office, Sarah pondered at the drastic turn her life had just taken. She was unemployed now, with nothing left of her Pinkerton career but the memories in her mind and the knick-knacks she carried in the box in her arms.
She was so certain about what she was doing. She was sad to go. But she was ready nevertheless. Because for once, things were all falling into place for her. Not perfectly, sure. This was going to be a mess, definitely. Who knew what sort of a job she could get now? But she was still completely convinced that everything would be fine.
Because she loved Chuck Bartowski.
And this time she knew exactly what to do about it.
"Dude, stop looking at your phone like that."
Chuck sent Morgan a look. "What are you talking about?"
"That look, Chuck. The one you used to give Farrah Fawcett during our Charlie's Angels marathons, Chuck. Like you wanted her to come out of the screen and profess her undying love to you, Chuck—"
"Okay, I get it! God!" he snapped. Morgan blinked. "Sorry. I'm sorry. It's just—I'm waiting for an important call." Chuck shoved his phone back into his blazer jacket and did his best not to sigh wistfully. It had been all damn day and he received nothing from Sarah. Not a phone call. Or an email. Not even a text. And while it hurt a little, he was worried more than anything. Was she that mad at him?
It couldn't be that, though. This was her idea, the whole hidden relationship thing. She had to know that if it were up to him, he would have announced that his girlfriend was on the phone, before getting up from the table and marching away from whatever hubbub that announcement might have caused.
And anyways, Sarah wasn't the type of person who would just ignore him. He knew he'd pissed her off before, or perhaps something he'd said or done left her miffed once or twice. But something like this would never make her mad enough not to at least let him know she was alive.
The woman was a Pinkerton agent, for God's sake. He knew how dangerous that job was, considering he had to tackle her to the ground to keep her from being riddled by bullets during his case almost a year ago.
But he couldn't let his thoughts wander too far down that road. Because it wasn't fair to Sarah. She was capable of protecting herself. Of course she was fine. She was a bad ass and the best. For all he knew, she was invincible.
Chuck surreptitiously knocked on the underside of the wooden table he and Morgan were sitting at in the corner of the sushi restaurant whose kitchen employed a certain bearded fellow.
"Stop the presses! It's Vicki Vale!"
Chuck looked over his shoulder, his eyes searching for the woman Morgan spoke of in his sudden excitement. And then he looked back at his friend. "What?"
"The VV girl in your phone. Vicki Vale. Are you waiting for her to call?"
Chuck nearly growled. "Morgan…I thought we already discussed this. We've been through—"
"I know, I know. But I've got the memory of an elephant."
"And the ears of an elephant, too."
Morgan pouted a little and cupped his hands over his ears. "Hey. I never say anything about your giant feet. Don't see me comparing you to a kangaroo."
Chuck just laughed as he pushed back from the table and stood, stuffing his wallet back into his pants pocket. "I'm gonna head back home, Morgan. Thanks for the discount, even though it wasn't necessary."
"Oh, of course, Chuck! What's a brother for, huh?" Morgan leapt up from his seat and grabbed his chef hat from the table.
"And the singed eyebrows?" the tech guy added, "Also not necessary. Though I thank you for that as well."
His bearded friend winced at that. "In my defense, the volcano trick is a learning process."
"Thank you for allowing me to be your guinea pig."
"Don't sweat it, though," Morgan said. "Vicki Vale likes a man with no eyebrows."
Chuck sent him a disbelieving look. "What?! Bruce Wayne has eyebrows." He shook his head and started walking through the restaurant towards the front, watching as one of the Benihana chefs successfully flipped shrimp into a woman's mouth.
"Yeah, okay. Michael Keaton has eyebrows. But not Batman. The bat mask has no eyebrows, Chuck. Fact."
"He's got that whole furrowed brow thing going on."
"Those aren't eyebrows! There's no hair there! That'd be gross!"
"Furrowed brow indicates eyebrows, Morgan. Fact."
"Whatever, man. I'm just trying to make you feel better."
Chuck laughed and patted Morgan on the shoulder as he reached the exit. "I'm just messin' with ya, Morgs. I'll call you later, okay?"
"And tell me about Vicki Vale?" came the hopeful reply.
Chuck just sent Morgan pursed lips over his shoulder, his eyes narrowed. He heard Morgan's dramatic, "Maaaan!" before the door to the restaurant shut and he was on his way to his car.
Even though the outward teasing was there, Chuck was still bothered by the fact that Morgan knew there was a Vicki Vale in his life somewhere and he wasn't allowed to tell him more than that. He wanted Morgan to know that the mysterious woman in his life wasn't just a dalliance—some woman he met up with here and there when he was on business trips. Morgan probably thought the whole thing was semi-dysfunctional, even though on the surface level, his little buddy made it seem like he was proud of Chuck for "getting some".
But in the end, Morgan and Chuck were best friends. More than that, they were brothers from another mother. And just like Chuck wanted to protect Morgan from being hurt, he knew that sentiment was returned in full. After Morgan sent Sarah those messages with his phone, he had a short talk with his friend about not digging. He knew Morgan had been hurt when he said he didn't want to talk about it. That things were complicated and yet incredibly simple and that was all he needed to know.
And that had unfortunately snowballed into Chuck snapping with his best friend in a similar fashion to what he did with Ellie. He gave Morgan the "none of your business" speech. And the way his friend backed off, no teasing or anger…just a thread of hurt and worry…made him feel worse about everything.
Enough time had passed that Morgan had made it a running joke whenever Chuck was texting someone in front of him during their gaming sessions or when they went out to bars. "Is that Vicki Vale? Tell her I said hi." Chuck learned to laugh it off, or joke back, in attempts to keep Morgan's spirits high about the situation.
And he couldn't thank his buddy enough for helping Chuck keep his secret from everyone else, even when Morgan himself wasn't even privy to the real truth. It was a testament to Morgan Grimes' loyalty. He was the best best friend.
That made keeping Sarah hidden from Morgan that much harder on Chuck. Because the truth was so much nicer than whatever it was his friend was thinking about VV. He was in a fulfilling relationship with a woman. And not just any woman. The woman. The same woman he had told Morgan about all those months ago when he was wallowing in self-pity and depression after Sarah left.
Things were definitely complicated in their relationship. Definitely. But they were also simple at the same time. Chuck was in love with Sarah Walker. He knew what he wanted. The complicated part was that they weren't entirely on the same page when it came to timing and moving forward.
It was hard realizing that. And it hurt whenever he dwelled on it.
But then he would remind himself that she hadn't run away from him after that night on his roof. She had merely asked for a bit more time. It gave him hope that they would eventually be on the same page. And frankly, he wouldn't take anything else for an answer. Because he was not losing Sarah Walker. He would fight tooth and nail, even if it meant fighting himself. Or fighting her. Well, fighting her fears, at least.
They would get through all of this.
But he hoped it was soon. He couldn't keep hiding her from his loved ones.
When Sarah had called last night in the middle of his dinner, his first instinct was to answer, as though he were home alone sipping coffee and working on a new program. Because it was Sarah. It was his girlfriend. He missed her voice. He missed hearing about her cases. And it had been so long since they'd spoken. Days.
Then he'd reminded himself that he was sitting amidst his family and Morgan, people who didn't know about Sarah, people who couldn't know about Sarah. And his finger pressed the ignore button, even as his heart throbbed something awful. Dinner had continued, the tense air between Ellie Woodcomb and Mary Bartowski softening a little as Chuck, Devon and Stephen worked to steer the conversation in the direction of the incoming baby in the family. (As conflicted as his mom seemed to be about Ellie and Devon having a baby, the idea of a grandchild seemed to melt the middle aged woman's heart just a smidgeon, Chuck was happy to note.) But then Sarah had called again ten minutes later, and because he was selfish sometimes, and because he missed her that much, he'd answered the second time. Before he could forget who he was answering in front of, he took in Ellie's curiosity and his mother's annoyance, and promptly called his girlfriend "Eddie".
Chuck unlocked his car and plopped into the driver's seat with a groan and a roll of his eyes. "Eddie," he breathed pitifully to himself, starting his car and expertly pulling out of the parallel parking spot. He wasn't even sure there was an Eddie at the company. With his dad at the table, that might have been a problem, but lately a lot of the person to person interactions had been left to Chuck. His dad was a lot shyer than he was. And Chuck was actively being prepped to take over when Stephen Bartowski retired. So his dad didn't seem too confused about Chuck talking to someone at Bartowski Electronics that he didn't know.
And Sarah had seemed so confused. Silence had followed his rambling about blueprints. And then there'd been a tentative, "…Chuck?" He could still hear her voice in his head, the way her voice had changed when she realized he was covering because he was with family. She was quieter. "Oh! God. Sorry. Maybe call me later, 'kay?" and he had rambled something else he couldn't remember now.
But then when he called her back later that night when he was in the privacy of his own home, after struggling with the implications of that damn phone call the entire rest of the night with Morgan and his family, she hadn't answered. There were thousands of potential reasons why she hadn't answered. And he tried to remind himself of that when she didn't call him back that night. Or in the morning. Or in the afternoon. Or tonight.
Chuck had even tried to give her a call after lunch, but it had gone straight to her voicemail. Was there a new case he wasn't aware of? That was probably it.
Sarah told him before that her most recent case was a breeze. It was all done. She was going to finish the report and send it in. And then maybe she might have a day or two of vacation. But he hadn't heard back from her on that front. Maybe that was why she'd called last night.
Either way, he was going to call her when he got home.
Chuck glanced at his car clock. No, he wasn't going to call her when he got home. Because it was almost one o'clock in the morning there. He could call her in the morning. He quickly glanced at his phone again, but there were no missed calls. No text messages. Nothing.
This was getting harder and harder to deal with.
It wasn't just that she was in another city hours and hours away. It wasn't that they spent more time apart in their relationship than they did together. That was the case with a lot of couples and that worked for those couples. It worked for Chuck and Sarah, too. Though Chuck was admittedly finding it more and more difficult to be fine with constantly being away from her. He couldn't help it. He loved her. And he missed her. Some mornings, his chest physically hurt when he awoke with the knowledge that she was off in Europe somewhere, already halfway done with her day instead of next to him.
And on a more shallow and certainly a more selfish level, he was feeling woefully undersexed. He wouldn't be comfortable even thinking that if Sarah hadn't texted that exact thing to him the week before. As if she thought telling him that would make things easier. Pfft. And when he'd replied with a hearty, "ME TOO" she sent him a frowny face accompanied by a sassy, "You better."
Chuck found a small smile on his face as he drove. In spite of everything. Because that had quickly become one of Sarah's greatest talents in their relationship. Making him smile, in spite of everything. But he wanted her to see it. He wanted her to see how easy it was for her to make him smile. He just wanted her here more.
It didn't even have to be here, exactly. She could be anywhere for all he cared, as long as he was there with her.
But even the distance was bearable, the long gaps between the times they saw each other in person were bearable.
It was hiding her as though she were some terrible secret that really cut at him. He was proud of her. He was proud of the work she did, proud of her brain, proud of her accomplishments, proud of her sense of humor, proud of her kindness and patience. And damn it, he was proud of her undeniable sexiness.
He wanted to tell everyone about it. He wanted Ellie to know that there was a woman in his life. And not just any woman, but a woman with the sort of fire Ellie would appreciate. A woman who cared about him enough to make Ellie stop worrying about her little brother. And he wanted to stop hurting his sister. Because she was worried about him. And she'd kept her promise to stop bothering him about dating. Because she was sweet and wanted him to be happy. And she respected him, he knew.
But he just wanted her to know.
He wanted Morgan to know.
He even wanted his parents to know. He wanted to see the smoke come out of his mother's ears, and he wanted to see how Sarah stood up to her. He wanted to stand up to her. And tell her she just had to deal with it. Then his father would get that smile on his face that he always bit back when his wife spun on him to tell him this was all his fault for spoiling their children.
He wanted to see Morgan's jaw drop at how unbelievably stunning Sarah Walker was. He wanted the people he loved to feel the way Sarah filled a room with some sort of magic something that he hoped he might never be able to completely decipher. And he wanted them to know how unbelievably happy he was now that he had this woman in his life.
Was it selfish to want all of that?
Maybe it was. When Sarah seemed so against it. At least for now she seemed against it. And he knew why. He just wished she could trust in him a little more.
And that was it right there.
A part of him worried that perhaps Sarah didn't fully trust him yet. Or at least, she didn't trust him as much as she should after over six months of their dating. Maybe he should've said "I love you" by now. But he'd resisted because he wasn't sure about how receptive she might be to hearing it. Would it scare her? She had to know that he loved her, though. He showed it pretty consistently. And maybe the fact that he hadn't told her yet meant he didn't trust her as much as he should.
But he did trust her! He trusted her more than anyone else in his life. That was a fact.
So why couldn't she trust him?
It had to be her background. Her upbringing. And there was still so much about that part of her life that she hadn't told him. It was the nature of Sarah Walker to keep secrets. It was her job, after all. She worked at a detective agency that did most everything out of the public eye. Away from the media. She was trained to be secretive.
Sarah had trusted him enough to go this long in their relationship, though. And she had never once made him think she wasn't serious about this. She told him she was willing to do anything to make it work. So far, she'd proven that beyond all doubt.
Then was it unfair of him to want more? And to want it sooner?
Maybe it was.
Chuck finally pulled into his parking spot and started up his building's stairs to the condo where he lived alone. Something that hadn't bothered him at all until he found a woman he wouldn't mind sharing the space with more often. Maybe someday on a more permanent basis.
Someday.
He twirled his key ring on his finger as he approached his door, gnawing on his lip. If nothing else, he would make himself a martini, turn on some stereotypical feel good movie, and eat ice cream until he passed out. There was no reason for him to be at the office tomorrow, so he might as well make a long weekend out of it.
This way he had plenty of time to think. He could be alone, separate himself from work, from his family, and decide just how long he was willing to wait for Sarah before he tried to push again. If he even wanted to push in the first place.
But he did want to push.
Because the more cynical part of him thought Sarah was letting her fear of commitment, of being tied to something other than her job, hold her back from going public with their relationship. That theory did her a real disservice. It did. Chuck knew she meant it when she said her job was important to her, and that the people there would persecute her if they knew she was dating someone who was once her client. It didn't matter that they'd started dating after she'd solved his case.
What if she was afraid though?
What if she really didn't want to tell his family because that would make it harder to leave again?
Chuck knew he was letting his own fear overtake him now. And he needed a martini to calm his nerves. He needed to talk to Sarah, hear her voice, or something. He needed the feeling of knowing she cared about him that he got when he heard the warmth in her tone when she spoke to him over the phone. Or the way she giggled when he teased her.
He slipped his key into the lock and opened his door, ready for a martini, a shower, and solitude.
But he stopped just inside of his condo, his heart stalling in his chest, his jaw hitting the floor.
Sarah Walker stood at his bar, holding a martini glass in one hand and a bottle of vermouth in the other. She turned, her face lighting for just a moment, before she quashed it and pursed her lips.
"Oh. Good. You're back. I was about to make myself a martini but now that you're here, you can do it for me." She shrugged and posed with the glass and vermouth held out to the side.
Chuck gathered himself enough to realize he'd left his door open, so he blindly reached back and swung it shut behind him, shaking his head. He had no words. His voice was caught in his throat. His heart was beating again, but this time a mile a minute.
She put the glass and vermouth down and crossed the room to stand directly in front of him, her hands grabbing at his biceps as though forcing him to meet her gaze. As if he was capable of looking anywhere else at the moment. He was stunned. Stupefied. Warmed by her presence. Wondering how to get his limbs working again so that he could wrap her up in his arms and never let go.
He could only blink as she tilted her head and searched his brown eyes with her blue ones. She was so pretty. He was stunned by it every time he saw her in person. Even if it was just waking up in the morning with her beside him.
And when her thumbs stroked over his blazer, lightning shot through his limbs and brought him crashing back to Earth. But it was too late. Sarah was already speaking to him, her eyes wide, her cheeks pink.
"I don't want this anymore. The way I've kept us from moving forward by forcing you to keep me a secret from your family. I've known for a long time that you want more than this and I've resisted it and resisted it and I'm done resisting it, Chuck. I'm done. I want more, too. I want what you want."
Everything in him was roaring to life, even while he was still so stunned and confused. His fingers were tingling, his keys still clutched in his hand, his feet still glued to the same spot he'd been in when he first saw her in his condo.
"You just…You make me feel so good, so alive. And I'm tired of feeling like you give me all of yourself while I'm only capable of giving this much." She held her thumb and forefinger up an inch apart, and then she grabbed at his arm again, her grip a little desperate. "You deserve so much more. And I'm going to work as hard as I can to give you all of myself. I'm diving into you head first and I'm not looking back because I want this, Chuck. I want to take this massive, giant step forward in our relationship. I want to do my best to make you feel as amazing as you make me feel. I want it so bad that I've been sitting here for the last hour and a half completely ass-crazy giddy waiting for you to get back so that I could tell you all of this. And oh my God, I feel like my feet aren't even on the ground right now. Are you holding me up?"
Chuck dumbly lowered his gaze to her feet tucked away in her typical black pumps and then he looked up and shook his head no.
"Oh. Sorry. I just don't want to be a secret anymore, Chuck. Us. This. I want everybody to know. I want you to tell Ellie and Devon and Morgan and your parents. And everybody at your work. And put it in the God damn newspaper if you want to. I don't care." She giggled and he couldn't help but grin. A wave of happiness came over him that was so powerful he was almost dizzy, and he had to bring his hands up to hold onto her elbows to keep himself from pitching over to the side.
Her smile was massive and her eyes were glossy and she was halfway to manic, but then…so was he. And yet, he still couldn't make himself speak.
"I know I said I'm happy at Pinkerton and I am. I was. But that's not all the world has to offer me anymore. And it's not as important to me as it once was. Nothing is as important to me as you are, Chuck. Not a single thing in this universe."
"Wait, was?" Chuck heard come out of his mouth. She said "I am" and then "I was". She was happy at Pinkerton?
Her grin dimmed a little and she took a deep breath. Suddenly her eyes were a bit glossier, but she met his gaze with confidence and warmth. "They fired me this morning."
"What?!" Ice surged through his veins at her admission.
"Yeah, well…one of my coworkers did some investigating into the gardenias and necklace you sent to my room in Oslo and turned me in. My superior asked me and I refused to say because it's none of his damn business and I was fired. So…that happened."
"Sarah, oh my God." He stepped even closer and lifted his hands to cup her face. "Are you okay? I'm so sorry. This—This is exactly what I didn't want you to have to deal with. You shouldn't have had to—"
"I love you."
Chuck's words died on his lips and his heart thudded like mad against his ribcage. It was so intense that he could feel it beating in his ears, in his fingers and toes, all over.
Tears lined her eyes as she pulled her lips between her teeth. And then she sniffed just once. "I love you, Chuck. I love every single little thing about you. Form the way you drum against the steering wheel of your car with your fingers even when there's no music on the radio to the way you left a long, unnecessary voicemail on my phone last night. I love you." Her arms were so tight around him then, grasping at his back, her face buried in his neck and he squeezed her back so hard. "I love you," she breathed. "I love you."
He heard her sniffle in between her multiple declarations and he ached for her, his heart pulled in every which way—by her proclamation of love and by his knowledge that she'd just lost a job that was incredibly important to her, something she was so proud of, something she was so good at.
Then she pulled back again and peered up at him with tear-filled eyes. "I'm sorry. I'm a little nuts right now, I know, but I've been going nonstop since I was fired this morning and seeing you makes me so happy because I missed you." The tears spilled out of her eyes and down her cheeks. "Seeing you made all of it come out at once and I'm really sad that I don't have my job anymore because it was all I knew for so long. And I'm not gonna lie, I'm a little overwhelmed by this huge life change, when everything has been so status quo for such a long time. I mean, I woke up, went to work, solved a case, went to bed, traveled the world for my job and—and even that was pretty status quo. It worked, though. It was good. And even after I started dating you, none of that changed except that everything seemed a lot brighter. But now my whole world has been turned on its head and I'm glad. I feel like I need to say that. I need you to understand, Chuck. I'm so glad."
All he could do was shake his head in wonder at her, and rejoice in the feel of her cool hands on his warm cheeks, her body so real and so close. "You are?"
"So glad." She beamed, still crying. "Because I realized while I was standing there getting fired, that a future without Pinkerton isn't as terrifying as I once thought. A future without you though is…it's unthinkable is what it is. I don't want to be without you ever, Chuck. And this is so scary in a lot of ways because it's such a massive life change and I'm not very good at that yet and I'm going to need help—"
"I'll help you, Sarah," he rushed, cutting off whatever she meant to say next. "You know I'll help you."
He dropped his forehead to hers and pulled her closer so that their chests were pressed together.
"I know," she said in a soft, quivering voice, the tears still squeaking out of her eyes here and there. But that grin on her face wouldn't go away. He was floored by all of this. Unable to find the wherewithal to steady himself, to take all of her words in. All he knew was that she was here, she wanted him, she loved him. She loves me.
"Chuck, I don't have a place to live yet and I don't have a job anymore, and this whole thing is going to be messy and difficult, but I can't help feeling like it's still gonna be better than it was. I'm here. I want to be here. I want to be with you. I'll find something else to do. That'll be easy. As long as I have you. I can deal with this whole crazy th-thing…if you're here, too, you know?" She dropped a hand to his chest and curled her fist in his lapel, meeting his gaze. "I love you."
"I love you, too." He said it with everything in him. "I always have. I love you, Sarah Walker."
She beamed a bit giddily and reached up to kiss him, her fingers tangling in his hair and pulling him closer. It went on for what seemed like ages. Glorious, perfect ages. The best ages of his entire life.
And she even managed to get his blazer off and at one point he wondered when he'd dropped his keys because he hadn't heard the clatter of them hitting his wood floor, and then he went back to not caring and kissed her like there was no tomorrow.
When Sarah finally pulled back, he saw that she was crying again and he felt his chest ache.
Chuck wiped at her tears and gently kissed her cheek. "Hey, Sarah, it's going to be okay. You're going to find something fulfilling again because you're a bad ass and the best." That made her chuckle wetly. "And I'm going to help you. Whatever you need from me, okay?" Sarah nodded, her eyes slipping shut as he leaned down to press his lips to her neck oh so softly, knowing how much that tended to relax her.
He felt her tense limbs loosen up under his hands as he continued his feather kisses over her skin and he heard her sigh softly.
Then Chuck pulled back and waited for her eyes to open again before he spoke. "First thing's first, though, baby. This is your home as much as it is mine. I'll move things around, make some space for you. I'll even sell The Brain Eaters poster hanging in the bathroom that I know gives you the creeps. I don't need it."
She giggled. "That's quite the sacrifice."
Chuck nudged her nose with his. "See? This is a huge step forward for us. Making sacrifices. Your job. My Brain Eaters poster." He paused when she made a face at him. "Was that…too soon? It was, wasn't it?"
Sarah just smacked at his shoulder and laughed, throwing her arms around his shoulders and hugging him tight, her nose pressed into his curls at the back of his head. He nuzzled her hair and rubbed her back. "In all seriousness, Sarah, I'm sorry about Pinkerton. I'm sorry they couldn't see what I saw every day during our case."
"That I'm a bad ass and the best?" He could hear her grin in her voice.
"Well, you are both of those things, yeah. But I'm talking about how focused and determined you are. About doing what's right. Getting the job done. Not just because it's how you make your living, but because you believe in it." She pulled back and gazed up at him, her eyes soft and so incredibly bright from crying. "They didn't know what a special thing you were when they had you, and I bet they're gonna feel it sorely now that you're gone."
She smiled. "I hope they do."
That made him snort. "I love you, Sarah Walker. And I'm gonna make this worth your while. I promise."
Sarah shook her head and framed his face with her hands. "No, Chuck. You've been making everything worthwhile from the moment I turned back to you on that rainy day in Paris. It's my turn, now." Suddenly she had one fist tangled in his shirt front, the other clutching his tie as she yanked him close, their noses brushing, her breath ghosting over his lips. "I'm gonna make you a very happy man, Chuck Bartowski."
"You are?" he breathed, swallowing as she subtly gave his lower half a nudge with her hips.
"Mhm. Happiest man in the universe."
When she gently lifted her leg so that her knee rubbed up his inner thigh, Chuck grinned like an astrophysicist discovering life on another planet. Sarah giggled and he hoisted her into his arms, her legs wrapping around his waist.
He heard the tell tale thumps of her heels dropping from her feet to the steps as he walked up the stairs and reached what was now apparently their bedroom. He lowered her gently to the bed and made to crawl over her, but she stopped him, both hands on his chest, her eyes a little wide. "Wait. Chuck."
"Huh?"
"We should—We should talk about this, maybe. Talk things out. You know? Like, I can't stay here forever." He frowned. "No, no. I mean, I'll stay for now but I'm going to want my own place, Chuck. I know it's…"
He smiled a little. "Okay. I'll help you look."
"…You will?"
"Absolutely. Whatever you want. Whatever you need."
She grinned and he dove down to kiss her again, his fingers undoing the clasp at the side of her skirt. But then she made a soft sound of protest and pushed him back gently. "Chuck, first and foremost, we have to figure out how to tell your family. That's the most important thing. Telling Ellie and Morgan."
"Sarah. Baby. I love you b—"
"I love you, too. Crazy how easy that is to say. It feels fantastic."
"It does. It really does. But you know what else feels fantastic?"
"Wh—Oh!" She gasped and threw her head back. "You're right. Proceed."
And did he ever proceed.
With gusto.
XOXOXOXOXO
Author's Note: WITH GUSTO! I want everyone to know that for the longest time I called this chapter "The Detective Gets Her Ass Fired" because I'm garbage. - SC