The Detective and the Tech Guy
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.
Disclaimer: I don't own Chuck or The Thin Man series. And I'm making no monetary profit from this story.
Author's Note: Told you I had your backs! ...Eventually! After a 26 chapter 200,000 plus word story on my SC account! I'll shut up now and letcha read. Gotta get these two kids out of this hallway. Yikes!
XOXOXOXOXOXO
"I-I was knocking. But you aren't in there." She heard him swallow from where she stood a few feet away. "You're out here. Obviously." He cleared his throat."Yeah, I'm here. I, er…I was at work."
"Right. Of course. Me…Me, too."
God, she didn't even know what to say now that he was standing right in front of her. She hadn't had her shower yet. The shower in which all of the answers were supposed to come to her, the solution to all of her problems magically appear in her head. That was what showers were for, right?
But he was here. She wouldn't get her magic shower. And she was at a loss for words.
Chuck huffed then and shook his head. "Sarah, I've seen a lot of romcoms in my time." What? "It's always the same thing. The main couple gets into a big fight and they don't talk to each other for days and days and it's so dramatic, and then something, I dunno, romantic and magical happens to bring them together, put them in the same place at the perfect time and they make up and some campy-ass song plays while they kiss. I don't—I don't want that. I don't want to just sit at home staring out the window wistfully waiting for something romantic and magical to happen. I don't want to wait for you to come to me. I don't want to be apart for days and days. I can't do that. I can't wait. I can't sit around not fixing this when it needs to be fixed. Those movies are shit because when you really love someone, it's like torture sitting around knowing they're mad at you, that you screwed up and you can just be a God damn grown up instead and talk to them. I need you," he said, taking a step closer, and she felt just as breathless as he sounded. "I need to be with you. I don't wanna play games like that with you. We need to talk. I want to talk to you, hash this out. Because I love you. I love you more than anything in the entire universe and I'm so sorry. But I have so much more to say than just that. And I'm-I'm open to listening, too. I can do that this time. I promise. And can I please come in? Please?"
She nodded a bit dumbly, blinked once, and stepped past him to unlock her apartment door. She stepped inside, pushing it open for him to follow her, and she flicked on the light and set her briefcase down as he shut the door behind them.
When she turned to face him again, he was just standing there watching her, shifting his weight nervously. "I'm sorry, Sarah," he said, then, his shoulders slumping, head falling forward so that his chin was pressed to his chest.
She took him in now that they were out of the hallway and alone. He was in a pinstripe suit and brand new brown leather dress shoes, wearing a dark green tie that was a little crooked. He looked good. He'd met with a potential sponsor today though, Stephen had told her. Hence the dress shoes instead of his usual Converse.
"I-I am, too," she breathed.
His brown eyes snapped up to meet her blue ones. Perhaps he didn't think she owed him an apology. She did, and she knew she did. But considering the weirdly charming nonsense about romcoms he'd just blurted in the hallway, it was probably better for her to allow him to get it all off his chest before she really apologized.
"First thing's first, Sarah. What I said to you…" He swallowed, then seemed to force himself to meet her eye as he continued. "I have no right making assumptions about your life before this in the first place, but to have been so downright vicious towards you, insinuating that—that because you don't want my help, that's why you've…had no friends." He winced and looked up at the ceiling.
Chuck looked completely mortified and miserable as he repeated the sentiments he'd expressed to her that night before she left.
"That…didn't feel great," she admitted, quietly.
"No, of course not." He closed the distance tentatively, then reached out to take her hand in his. His gentle touch filled her with the overwhelming need to throw her arms around him and bury her face in his neck, stay there forever. Or at least until this ache subsided.
But she stayed where she was, resisting the urge.
"Sarah, I'm so sorry," he said, his thumb stroking the back of her hand. "It was a cruel thing to say, and I'm so disgusted with myself for saying something with the intention of hurting you. I was hurt, so I said something to hurt you. It was childish, stupid, and-and it wasn't true."
She wasn't entirely sure if it was as untrue as he insisted, but she didn't really feel like tackling that complicated issue at the moment.
"I completely understand if you don't want to forgive me for saying it, but I at least want you to know that I hate myself for being so mean. I love you. The last thing on Earth I want to do is hurt you like that. I'm a total jackass." He huffed and hung his head.
"Well, thank you," she said finally. "For apologizing." She paused. "I can forgive you, Chuck, but there's a lot we need to talk about besides just that."
"There is. There's a lot. But y-you forgive me?"
Sarah felt the corner of her mouth twitch in a bit of a smile. "Yeah, I do. But you say something like that to me again, I'll punch you in the dick."
He let out a huff, relief and amusement in it, and he held his hands up by his head in surrender. "I still think I deserved that this time."
He probably did, but she didn't much like the idea of doing that to him.
But he was sobering up now, rubbing the back of his neck, apparently having more to say. "I really overstepped the other day, Sarah. Giving Jorge the money for the rent after you told me no, going behind your back to do it…I overstepped big time. I crossed the line. I apologize for that, too. I was wrong."
She nodded slowly and started taking her coat off. She felt the heater in the apartment starting to kick in.
"This isn't an excuse, just an explanation. B-But after the really terrible day I had, I was already kind of a powder keg with a very short fuse. I felt like you were pounding on me and pounding on me and it felt really unfair, and I just refused to actually listen to what you were saying."
Sarah felt her claws come out a bit, and he must have seen it, because he held his hands up again, stepping even closer, and continuing before she could defend herself.
"That's how I felt then, the other night. That's not how I feel now. I've had some separation from our fight, I've been thinking about it and thinking about it over and over and over, and every way I look at it, you were right. I was being a defensive idiot, Sarah. I was offended and hurt and like a child, I closed myself off. I walked into my condo that night already in the wrong frame of mind and it just got worse from there."
She huffed and tossed her coat onto the coat rack, pushing a hand through her hair and nodding again. "I think maybe both of us were in the wrong frame of mind."
"Yeah," he said softly. "Maybe. But you were just trying to explain and I refused to listen. I've been pushing and shoving my way into this agency because I-I guess I felt like you needed me there. I really was just trying to help."
"I know," she interjected, nodding.
"But that doesn't make my inability to listen and understand what you wanted from me less wrong." Chuck sighed, shoving both hands through his hair in frustration…at himself, she thought. "I do have faith in you, though. Even if I apparently did my damnedest to make you think I don't, I really do. I have so much respect for you. I know you can do anything. I-I mean, I have so much faith in you, I think I'd even climb into a submarine if I found out you were gonna drive it. I'd willingly climb into that thing, and you know I hate confined spaces, especially underwater like that."
She found herself letting out a short giggle, in spite of everything.
"I've been making the mistake of thinking that my constant need to help you wasn't affecting anything, and this whole time it's been making you feel like I don't think you can start this agency on your own. I know you can, though. I got nervous and stupidly lost my footing when you told me about being late on your office rent. I jumped the gun. I went behind your back and I did it knowingly, and I'm a total fuck-up for doing that. I'm sorry."
Sarah nodded again, crossing her arms over her chest.
"I get why you were so angry. And I promise to never do something like that again, especially not behind your back. That's not what you do when you respect someone as much as I respect you." He took a deep breath. "I made a lot of mistakes. A-And I've been thinking a lot about what you said, about me…" He paused, and she saw a tinge of pink on his cheeks. "About me being privileged, I mean."
"No, Chuck, I—"
"Hear me out, though. Please." She closed her mouth and nodded for him to continue. And he smiled a bit, looking up at her through his eyelashes. "Because you're right. There's been enough separation between then and now and I guess I've allowed myself to lose sight of what it felt like not to have this much money. I'm embarrassed, mortified even, that that's the case. It's not easy to admit, but I think I've been taking my family's success for granted. I forgot what life was like before this. When things were up in the air, every day wondering if my parents might have to sell one of our cars, if I'd have to skip college and go straight into the job market, something I really didn't want to do. I did a lot of soul searching yesterday. Between the drinking."
She lowered her chin and made a face. "Oh, Chuck, really?"
He winced and shrugged. "I know. But it's hard not to let self-pity get the best of you when you're feeling as bad as I was feeling. And the whiskey was…right there in front of me." He winced again. "I'm not proud of it."
The P.I. wanted so badly to reach up and fix the errant curl that had fallen onto his forehead, touch his face, squeeze his hand, something. But she didn't move, just smiling a little at him.
"Th-The important thing is that I am privileged. And I'm very grateful that you've helped me see that. I maybe knew on the surface level. I know I'm rich. I know I have more than most people, too much some would say. Hell, I would say. To have all this money and be dating the best woman in the universe? Damn."
Sarah twisted her mouth to the side in an attempt not to show him how much she liked what he'd just said.
"But you were right, Sarah. Because my idea of solving a problem has been throwing money at it for a while now. Because before this, before you, I didn't really have to work at anything besides my job. My family is my family, there's no work or compromise there. And Morgan's…" He shrugged, a goofy smile on his face. "Morgan's Morgan. We don't fight. Ever. About anything."
She couldn't help letting out a soft hum of amusement. Chuck and Morgan were so damn cute together.
"And I'm not saying you're difficult or that this relationship is difficult, I'm just saying a romantic relationship is different and I haven't known you my whole life. You're newish. And different from anyone I've ever met. Does that make sense?" She nodded. "And I can't just throw money at you to fix things. I can't throw money at your problems, either. Something you were trying to tell me but I just wasn't listening," he droned, rolling his eyes at himself. "I'm listening now, though. And I won't do any of this again, okay? I promise you, baby."
Maybe it was the way he called her baby, how deep his voice was when he said it, the fact that his apologies all rang so beautifully sincere, how much she felt the love still between them…She didn't know what it was, but the moment that last word slipped out from between his lips, she had to cover said lips with her own.
In the back of her mind, she knew there was a lot more to say. She had apologies of her own to make. And she had to explain things better to him. He deserved more.
But right now, the only thing she wanted to give him was the feeling of being trapped between her bed and her body.
He kissed her back immediately, and as his hands closed around her arms, she heard him emit a desperate whimper.
Fire spread from her center to engulf every last bit of her body, and she held onto him that much tighter, dragging a hand up into his hair and twisting those soft curls between her fingers.
When they pulled back for air, both of them gasping, Sarah nuzzled his cheek with her nose. "Chuck…?" she breathed, tangling her other hand in the lapel of his coat.
"Yes," he whispered back. And that was all they needed to say before they sprang together again.
They kissed passionately, hands grasping at clothes, at hair. In the midst of the kissing and grabbing and sighing, Sarah somehow managed to get enough of her wits about her to guide them slowly towards the bedroom.
Sarah felt a powerful desperation rise in her chest, then. A need to drown out the last two days of tension and ache. Only two days and she'd missed him so hard that it hurt. She needed him to know. She wanted to give him every single part of her so that he knew.
And wasn't it a little scary just how powerful this was?
They broke apart for air again, and she took a long breath in through clenched jaw, gritting her teeth. And as she reached back, figuring she was somewhere near the bedroom door, needing to be inside, needing to be on that bed with him, her hand found nothing but air.
God, where were they then? She didn't even know. She couldn't find her door. She didn't care.
Standing here in the middle of the hallway wasn't conducive to what she needed either way, so she pushed his button-up down his arms, not caring that the sleeve caught on his watch. And with one quick move, she had him pinned against the nearest wall, his back making contact with a loud thump.
Chuck didn't miss a beat, pulling her with him, wrapping his arms around her and hugging her against his bare chest. She cupped his face and whimpered into the kiss, almost angry when she found that the pencil skirt she wore wasn't conducive to climbing his tall, lithe body the way she wanted to.
Instead, she continued kissing him, tucking her hands between their fronts and making quick work of his belt and pants.
Then she felt his fingers at her back, tugging her blouse out of her skirt, yanking it up but pausing for a moment. She broke the kiss and grabbed her blouse, taking it off in one swift movement tossing it away when he seemed a little unsure. He knew better than to think she gave a rat's ass about her damn clothes ending up on the floor in moments like these. But she knew the last two days must have jarred his confidence a bit.
It was all right. By the end of this, she'd make sure they were both back at the top of their game again.
As their lips smashed together again, she just clung to him, feeling his warm hands so large and strong against her back. It made her feel so heady, even though it was a sensation she knew so well after a year of being intimate with him.
And then his fingers were at the back of her skirt, feeling for a zipper there. When he found none after a short moment of searching, he switched to the side of the skirt. And then she heard the sound of him unzipping the skirt and it pooled at her feet. As she stepped out of it, giggling at the playful way his fingertips teased the insides of her thighs, she had a moment. Just a short memory of the first time he'd divested her of a skirt just like this. The first time he'd visited her in Chicago, after she'd gotten back from a meeting and she'd been tired, frustrated. First, that martini had gone down so well, and then…Well, so had he. In every sense of the word. After he'd struggled a bit to find the zipper on her skirt.
Chuck had learned since then.
Obviously, she thought to herself as he grabbed her by her hips and hoisted her up. She giggled with a squeal and gasped as he turned them around and pressed her against the wall this time, pinning her there as he kissed down her jaw, her neck, and over her shoulders and collarbone.
She spared a moment to take in her surroundings as she tilted her head to give him more access to her neck where she liked his attention most. The door was only a few feet away. They just had to go through it and somehow find the bed. That was it…
But he was making it hard as he unhooked her bra and settled his mouth even lower.
"Chuck…" she whimpered again.
He took the hint, it seemed, grinning against the sensitive skin of her breast and lifting his face, meeting her eyes as he eased her down so that she could set her feet on the floor. She stepped out of her pumps, losing a few inches of height, and she slowly eased herself down to untie his shoes, not breaking eye contact with him even for a moment.
She stood to her full height as he hurriedly toed his shoes off, nearly falling at least twice in his rush. And finally they wrapped themselves around each other, kissing again, haphazardly hobbling the few feet to the door.
The private detective winced as her shoulder crashed into the door, but she didn't care as it swung open, because she knew her room well enough to know the bed was only about ten feet away. She just had to keep moving as they kissed.
And as the backs of her knees met the edge of the mattress, she sighed in relief against Chuck's lips, opening her mouth and stroking his tongue with hers. The deep grumble he emitted made her feel half-mad, and as she pulled back from the kiss, her teeth bit down gently on his lower lip, taking it with her. She let it slip out again and he groaned, kissing her at the juncture of her neck, holding her close. Just like that, he lifted her from her feet and put her on the bed. He did it in such an emphatic way, like he was putting something where it belonged, and it was such a turn on for some reason.
They didn't bother with the duvet or the sheets, kicking off the rest of their underthings, joining on the wrong half of the bed, clinging, surging. She didn't know how long, she lost count of how often…
Once it was all over and a joint shower was had, Chuck lay facedown in the bed, his body splayed diagonal across it, and she'd somehow ended up with her upper half draped over his back, her breasts rather uncomfortably smushed. She didn't care. She wanted this contact, and he wasn't exactly complaining, was he?
"I feel like the best possible thing we can do to finish what just happened off with a bang is for me to get up and make us both a very strong martini that we can drink right here in bed."
She giggled and turned her lips to kiss him behind his ear, dropping a hand to his hip and stroking him tenderly. It was funny. He'd been hot to the touch earlier, and now she could feel his skin had cooled significantly. He was a little damp from the shower still, too. She shivered herself, glancing down as best she could without exerting too much effort to see that they'd kicked the sheets off of the bed…And after going through so much trouble to climb under them halfway through once they realized how cold her room was.
"But…?" she prompted.
"But you're so warm and comfy and I don't want to move again."
Giggling again, she nuzzled her face back into his neck. "I can forego the martinis for a while if you want."
"Mmm'good," he grumbled, and his whole body lifted and eased back down again as he yawned, letting out a wookie sound in the process.
She smirked lovingly, pressing her lips to the nearest part of him and humming comfortably herself.
Then he groaned and gently started to roll out from under her. Sarah laughed as she scooted off of him, letting him sit up and climb off of the bed.
"Couldn't resist the call, could you?" she teased, easing onto her back to lie on the bed properly and tucking her pillow under her head.
"Nope. I really, really want a martini in bed."
"I'd take a martini anywhere, but there's something delicious—salacious even—about enjoying one in bed after what we just did," she admitted, sending him a look as he glanced over his shoulder from where he was stepping back into his boxer briefs.
He smirked with a "be right back" and disappeared into the hallway outside of her bedroom. As she listened to his footsteps fade, she sat up and grabbed her sheet and duvet, straightening it, pulling it up over her and plopping back down. After the sex and the long shower, she was so satisfied and comfortable that she could easily take a nap while waiting for him to come back.
But of course that was the moment her conscience decided to remind her that while they'd stopped talking for a while, their conversation hadn't ended, exactly. It had just been interrupted. There was a lot to talk about, something she needed to make sure he really understood this time.
He'd promised to listen this time, right before they'd both decided to set their conversation to the side for more physically pressing matters.
She couldn't put it off any longer.
And by the time Chuck came back into the room shortly thereafter, she was ready.
Her tech guy's grin was massive and cheesy as he teasingly tiptoed across the room, handed her one of the martinis, and crawled back into bed next to her holding his own. She glanced at the martini he made her and then set it to the side on her nightstand. He boggled at her. "Can we share yours?" she asked with a wince. "I haven't had dinner and if I'm gonna get wasted tonight I at least want it to be after I eat a full meal."
He chuckled and nodded, handing her his. "First sip's yours, then."
"Aw, thank you, baby." She took a long first sip, felt it slip deliciously down her throat and warm her from the inside out, then handed it back to him.
She watched him then, lazily lounging against his side, reveling in how comfortable she was with him, how good it all felt, how important this part of her life was. And then she finally spoke up.
"I'm sorry I closed myself off to you, Chuck." He was silent for a bit. And then he reached over with the hand that wasn't holding the martini glass and squeezed her wrist. "I'm sorry I closed off that part of my life to you. And I'm sorry I cut you out of—out of my dream."
The quietude was comfortable, she found, and when he turned his face to press his lips into her hair, she smiled softly.
"It's okay, Sarah." He paused. "I understand now. I understand why you don't want my help."
Sarah stopped for a moment, frowned a little, and then straightened, turning to look into his face. He looked back, his gaze steady, confident.
He said he understood, but she knew he didn't. Of course he didn't. He'd called himself out now for the things he'd done, and for what he'd said, for not listening to her, for snapping at her. And she appreciated how candid and genuine his apologies were.
But he was doing that thing again, saying he understood with the goal of mending things between them, moving on from this fight they'd had, when he really didn't understand. How could he understand something she still hadn't told him?
"Do you?" she asked quietly.
He blinked, his brow furrowing in confusion. "Yeah. I do. You don't want me to help you anymore, and I get it. I won't."
"But you said that you understand why. Why I feel this way, why I want this. Do you really?"
She wasn't trying to call him out, but he needed to really understand why, not just say he did to make her feel better, to set her at ease. Not when she knew he wanted to know more about her, especially where this was concerned. She knew she confused him by not telling him.
Chuck didn't seem to know how to respond, so she plucked the martini from his fingers and stretched across him to set it down on nightstand on his side of the bed. Then she sat back and cupped his cheek in one hand, hoping he didn't take this as her chastising him.
"Chuck, please don't take this the wrong way, because I love you so much." He got a look like uh oh on his face, and she was quick to ease his worry. "No, no, this isn't—I'm not saying things right. I'm not good at talking like you are."
"Uh, did you hear that mess about romantic comedies that came out of my mouth earlier?"
She giggled. "Fair point."
Running the backs of her fingers down his cheek, she waited for him to meet her gaze before she continued. "Chuck, you always say what I want to hear, what I need to hear. Even before we were together, you had a way of just…knowing what to say. To make me feel better, to make things better in general. And most of the time, it's exactly the right thing, helpful and supportive…perfect." She took a deep breath. "But sometimes it just tables things for later that…" She huffed, searching for the right words. "That need to be addressed right then." Chuck's gaze flicked away from her for a moment and she put her hand on his chest to get his attention again. "That isn't your fault, Chuck. It's mine. I'm such a freaking dysfunctional human in a lot of ways and I've been so closed off and private for my entire life. I think I inadvertently trained you to encourage that behavior. Or-or maybe not encourage my behavior so much, but I think you learned pretty quickly that I pulled away when you asked questions or…pushed."
It was incredibly sweet that he didn't seem to want to confirm or deny, still looking out for her feelings.
"You don't have to say anything, Chuck. I know how I am and I know what I do. My hang-ups aside, your thoughtfulness and the respect you gave me by even caring enough to notice and to learn and—Well, that's one of the things that made me fall in love with you so hard and so fast." She leaned in to kiss him, tasting a hint of vermouth, strong and rather bitter, but so delicious.
She looked into his soft gaze as she pulled back, running the pads of her fingers over the stubble on his chin distractedly. "Whenever this subject in particular has come up, me not wanting help with my detective agency I mean, you say you understand. You get it…"
Chuck nodded, pressing his lips together and dropping his gaze. "But I don't really understand…"
"No. Of course not. I haven't told you. And again, that's my fault. Not yours." She licked her lips, collecting her thoughts for a moment. "And every time it comes back again. You say you get it when you don't get it, I accept it because it's what I want to hear, we move on, and it comes back because you…I don't know, you do something like what you did the other day. But less…er, severe."
She watched as he winced, letting out a long breath. "You're right. I do that. I just know you don't like talking about that stuff."
"I really don't. Not at all. But I need to stop hiding from you. I need to open up, and I'm sorry it's taken me a whole year to start, to give you even the slightest hint about where I'm coming from, why I am…this way."
As he rubbed his hands over his knees under the sheets, she realized he was a little breathless in anticipation. And what kind of a crap girlfriend had she been all this time that even the smallest bit of her backstory had him this excited? She pushed the guilt away for the time being, the voice inside her telling her she was a damn wreck, and she dove right in.
"You know about law school."
He nodded. "Harvard," he said, obvious admiration in his face, an impressed tilt to his smile.
"Don't be so impressed. I didn't finish, remember?""You got there, though." And those words gave her the confidence she needed to just…tell him.
"Well, I had my heart set on law school, Harvard in particular, because it was closeish to New York City, but still away from home, away from my comfort zone. And I took this trip down there on my own to scope it out and I guess…There's so much history and prestige and I bought it hook line and sinker." She rolled her eyes at herself good-naturedly.
"Hey. Stanford. I get it," he chuckled, pointing to himself.
She smiled. "Yeah, well…There was no damn way I was getting in, and I was kind of glum about it, even while I worked my ass off on the essays, went to every single class, studied like mad to get the best grades possible. I made sure to kick the LSAT's ass as best I could. And the truth is, I…" She let herself breathe for a moment, and was grateful to Chuck for squeezing her hand. "I'm pretty sure my application would've gone straight into the trash if they didn't get a recommendation letter and personal phone call from the NYPD Department Chief to the Dean." Chuck's eyebrows shot up. "I know," she drawled. "Pretty big deal. He was…sort of like a mentor. Kind of. It doesn't really matter. He just really came through for me and next thing I know, I was at Harvard Law. Seems he and the Dean were close friends, families spent time together. It got me in, so I kind of…ignored the implications. Sort of. As best as I could. But then the Dean was kind of looking out for me and as big as my law classes were, I could tell there were some classmates who knew about it. I don't know how, I just…could tell. The way they treated me. Like I was getting preferential treatment or something. And, I don't know, maybe I was. Maybe I shouldn't have even been there in the first place and they knew."
She pushed a hand through her hair and turned to face forward. "It isn't an easy thing for me to admit, but I got a hand up. I got a hand up getting into law school and then I got a hand up once I was there. The Dean, a few professors, really taking an interest in my well-being, making sure I had what I needed to succeed." She sighed. "It was subtle, but I felt it. I could see it."
Chuck was mercifully silent, just there, listening, holding her hand. And she took some strength from it, even though she was swimming in shame, aware of the blush that rose to her cheeks.
"Ms. Danilian, the Dean…Well, I don't know. I really don't know her thought process. But she got in contact with Langston Graham."
"Pinkerton," he said.
"Yep. Maybe she could tell I was losing my footing, losing confidence, not really as interested in what I was doing in law school, just kind of…going through the motions. I don't know what made her call him. But she did, told him about me. I didn't have any kind of…er, home really…besides…" She paused, nervously playing with the sheet in her hand. "Before you, I never really had much of a home. It was basically wherever I ended up, with whatever I could carry. You saw my place in Chicago, yeah? I mean…I never had much." He nodded. "Maybe that was a reason why they thought I'd be a good candidate. But I guess since I was close to the top of my class, on top of being alone in the world, Graham felt like he'd give me a trial. He sprang some tests on me when he visited to meet me. I don't think he knew that I knew what he was doing, but I must have passed with flying colors because he didn't waste any time personally asking me to join the Pinkerton Detective Agency."
Her boyfriend was gaping at her by this point, shaking his head. "Sarah, that's amazing. The director of Pinkerton came to you personally to beg you to join."
"He didn't beg," she giggled. "He invited me."
"Same thing."
She gave him a flat look. "Nevertheless, I didn't have to think much. I leapt at the chance to get out of there, do something different. Can you pass me that martini?"
He did, taking a sip himself when she was finished and setting it back on the nightstand.
"So I trained at Pinkerton. I thought things would be a bit different, without the influence of the chief or my…prior connections. It was, kind of. But not, at the same time. I was seen as getting a bit of a leg up because of my being a woman…a woman who looks like…" She gestured to herself.
"A warrior goddess?" he filled in. She blinked at him and he shook his head. "Sorry. Morgan and I decided you're like a valkyrie but without the whole choosing who gets to live and who has to die bit."
"…Thank you?" Sarah shook her head and snorted quietly. "The point…" She looked at him meaningfully.
"Sorry," he mumbled, properly scolded.
"…is that there were a lot of uses for someone like me in a detective agency. And it didn't take long before it was pretty clear to me that this was why a few of the guys in the agency took a long time to trust my work. And I got a lot of side-eye." Chuck frowned deeply. "Once I started taking lead on cases, it was okay. I mean, it was one of those Good Ol' Boys places still, but I wasn't harassed or disrespected. Not to my face, at least. I just…I got that same sort of feeling sometimes. Like I shouldn't have been hired. Like I didn't belong there."
"Sarah, I saw you working your ass off when you were assigned our case. You saved my life, my dad's life too, but mine in a more…uh…blatant, literal way." She tilted her head and smiled a little at him. "You solved a murder. You're so freaking smart. Seriously. Watching you work was like…" He huffed, seemingly unable to even finish his sentence.
She leaned in and kissed his cheek. "You're sweet, Chuck. And I appreciate that."
"It's true."
"Thanks." Sarah paused, turning her hand over under his and threading their fingers together. "What I mean by all of this is that I-I guess my whole life I've been sort of given this extra advantage. I've had doors opened to me that were shut for others because they didn't have important people going to bat for them. I've been given leadership roles and had people kind of look out for me for, like, almost a decade now. And when I left Pinkerton, it was like…" She sighed. "I don't know, like a clean slate. There are no police chiefs, no kindly deans, no mentors, no one like that to give me everything, lay it all out on a platter for me. I had this detective agency idea, and for the first time I could create something from nothing all on my own. No help from anyone."
She could see that Chuck was putting the pieces together now. He had that thoughtful look on his face that she thought was so cute. He wore it sometimes when he was coding and he ran into a problem. Watching him work through it without him knowing she was watching was one of those simple pleasures, those quiet moments in their relationship that she secretly treasured more than anything else in her life.
"Chuck, I've been so willfully vehement about not accepting help from anyone, especially you, because I need to know I can do this. I need to know, for my own personal peace of mind, that I can actually do these things on my own. That the help I've gotten isn't the only reason why I'm here. That I have skills. That I can make it, just me, no mentors or guardian angels. No recommendation letters or personal phone calls. Just me, working hard, finding success all on my own."
"A fresh start, forged from your own hard work, and your own money." He pulled his hand away and slung his arm over her shoulders, pulling her into his side and holding her there. "You want to prove them wrong, all the people who looked at you sideways in law school, those Pinkerton agents who thought you were given advantages they weren't."
She shrugged. "Yeah. If I can't do this without my rich boyfriend shelling out the money and handing me my clients, it'll prove that I really just got here through the work and favors of other people. I can't handle that, Chuck."
He held her tighter as she swallowed the lump in her throat. She felt his lips against her forehead. "Quite a knock to your self-esteem, I imagine."
"Yeah. Which is hard to admit. I'm sorry, Chuck. I know it sounds stupid. I got all of these advantages and privileges and I'm whining about it. It-It's more complicated than that, though." There was so much underneath all of it. The pity and sympathy underlying the chief's actions, the shame of seeing that look in the dean's face. The one that told her Dean Danilian knew, that Chief Sayer told her about the whole thing. Pity and sympathy followed her everywhere. Nobody had meant harm by it, but it stung so badly. And every merit that followed thereafter felt like another barb sinking into her skin, another thing she hadn't earned, a gift given to her because of someone else's sins.
It wasn't something she wanted to think about now, and she was glad when Chuck spoke up.
"It's okay, Sarah. I understand." He held up the arm that wasn't wrapped around her defensively. "I mean it this time. I'm not just saying it. I really understand." He gently tucked some of her hair behind her ear and stroked his fingertips over her temple. "I have to say something, though. I think it's easy to dismiss everything you accomplished because other people helped you along the way. But, well, you took that LSAT on your own. That score you got was yours. What about the grades you got in college? The work you did to be at the top of your class at Harvard Law? The cases you solved as a Pinkerton agent, including my dad's? Nobody was holding your hand when you were lead on our case." A dreamy look came over his face. "I mean, I wanted to but with an entirely different meaning to it."
Sarah melted, pulling back to look into his face, her own features crumbling. That was the cutest thing she'd ever heard in her entire life and she thought maybe she was dying a little. Especially with the teasing nose wrinkle. God, she was truly a goner.
"You get what I'm saying, though, right?" he asked quietly. "Yeah, important people liked you and therefore helped you take some big steps up in your career, in your life, but you still did the hard work, Sarah. You just talked me off a similar ledge last week. Remember? I was singing that nepotism tune, slamming my work, and you reminded me that while my dad gave me the job I'm in, I work hard. And you're right. I do."
"The amount of times I've gotten texts from you at two in the morning while I was sleeping because you were at work still…" she said, narrowing her eyes at him.
He chuckled. "I know, I know. You get what I mean, though?" he asked again.
"Yes. Thank you, Chuck. Really."
His smile made everything feel a bit brighter and she scooted in to put her head on his shoulder, cuddling into his warmth. "You're welcome, baby. Whatever I can do to help. When you want it," he emphasized then.
"I do want it. I still…" She sat up and looked in his eyes. "I still need to do most of it alone. No more paying my bills, okay? And especially not behind my back."
"No more. I promise."
"And I promise to be less of a hard-ass about accepting help, and I'll try to be more open to asking when I do need it." He nodded. "I still need to know I can do this without relying on your checkbook."
"Got it." Then a look came over his face and he looked down at his lap, his brow furrowed.
"What?"
"There, um…I-I think I should tell you something that might maybe explain…uh, my behavior. Or-Or at least give you some insight into what was, uh, going through my head." She waited, watching him. "See, I—Crap, I didn't wanna say this that night because I felt like such a sap for letting it get to me…"
"What is it, Chuck? You can talk to me." She leaned over to bump him with her shoulder and he smiled a little. It went away just as quickly.
"I talked to my mom the day before." Sarah's stomach clenched. "She came by my office and we went for a walk and talked for a while. And I swear I haven't told her a thing about your agency, but she seems to still know you need clients and she needled—"
"She's good at that."
"Yeah." He sighed in frustration. "She got me into a position where I was insisting you were refusing to let me help you, especially with money." Sarah could feel her levels rising, the annoyance and, damn it, the hurt, pricking at her heart. "I don't want to tell you this, baby. I just thought, in the spirit of getting things off our chest…"
"No. Chuck, it's okay. Keep going."
He continued with a wince. "She planted this seed of paranoia, Sarah, and then my own self-esteem hang-ups and self-doubt watered the seed, and legitimately made me into a panic plant."
"What about?"
"You. Leaving."
She did a double-take. "What? Jesus, what did she say to you?"
"She talked about how you'd have better luck opening an agency in some other city somewhere, like New York, and that you had to know that, had to always be thinking about it. But that you're staying here because you love me. She, uh, ahem…She told me I provide a big safety net for you. That if this doesn't work out—your agency, I mean—you'll just let it go and live off of my earnings." Sarah clenched her jaw, trying not to let it get under her skin. That woman was pernicious. He rushed on as if he could read her thoughts. "I told her flat-out, without hesitation, that you'd never just let this go. It's your dream. And even if it got to a point where you had to throw in the towel, you'd never be satisfied living off of my earnings and that was when I realized that…" He let out a frustrated groan, rubbing a hand down his face. "Before you ever lived off of me, you'd-you'd leave first. Find some other place to build your agency where it was viable. Somewhere that isn't here." She didn't know what to say so she just swallowed and lowered her gaze. "It scared the shit out of me. And knowing that you were late on your rent, I thought that if you lost that office, it'd be such a big setback. I guess I got it into my head that you might decide the problem was LA and you'd move away. I'm ashamed of myself, but I spiraled. I spiraled really bad. Then I went behind your back and didn't pay just your last month's rent, but the next month's too, and the late fee. Because you bet your fucking life I'm gonna make sure I keep my detective here, in LA, with me. So selfish and immature and paranoid, I know, but—"
She covered his mouth with hers. It was gentle, slow, and more intimate than anything else they'd shared over the last hour or two. And she slid her arms around his neck, falling onto her back and taking him with her.
When he eventually pulled back, she reached up to stroke her fingers through his messy curls and met his brown eyes steadily. "Chuck Bartowski, don't you ever spiral like that again, no matter what your mom says to you. Because I'm not going anywhere." He softened significantly. "I picked up my whole life for you, if you remember? Moved to Los Angeles, got an apartment I love," she glanced around her room, "I found an office space. I've set my entire damn heart on this place. I've dug roots in for the first time…" She felt breathless suddenly. "God, for the first time in my life. LA's my home." She had to bite her cheek then as tears stung her eyes. She just barely kept them back. "Your mom can do or say whatever she wants. But we can't let her keep getting to us like this, okay?"
Chuck nodded vigorously. "You're right."
"Maybe Ellie has some tips."
He chuckled. "She probably has a whole binder on it."
"She would," she said with a snort, playing with his stubble. "Hey, I love you."
"I love you, too." The gravity with which he responded made her feel weightless, but she also felt…almost overwhelmed. There were moments when they were together and she felt just how incredibly serious this was between them. This was one of those moments. "I'm so sorry I lost faith for a second. I'm sorry I panicked and did something stupid because of it. I feel terrible."
"Don't feel terrible. Your mom's really good at…" Being evil? Could she say that to him about his mom?
"Being evil?" he finished for her, as if he'd read her mind.
She laughed a little. "You said it, not me.""Noted."
His grin lit up her whole bedroom.
XOXOXOXOXO
Chuck couldn't help being distracted as he mixed the batter, the bowl rounded by one arm, and the spoon clutched in his other fist.
He'd wanted to wake up before Sarah so that he could make her breakfast, and he'd found the waffle iron Ellie had given his girlfriend last week. He'd wanted this bit of time alone, rummaging in her kitchen while she slept. He'd found himself needing some time to think.
Sarah had told him a lot the night before, and it opened his eyes to so much about her.
She was so confident as a detective. He watched her when she was on the job, not just when she'd worked his case, but when they'd started dating and he visited her while she was on other cases. She knew exactly what she was doing, every step she took was calculated. She was brilliant.
But she had baggage. He understood the hit she took to her self-esteem after years of receiving what she thought was preferential treatment, and he was sure the people around her—her peers—hadn't helped much in that respect. She wasn't able to see the things she'd done for herself, the hard work she put in all those years, because the kindness shown her overshadowed that. He could just see it—how that might eat away at a person's image of themselves and what they're capable of.
Chuck hurt for her. Because he could empathize, in a much smaller scale. His dad had pulled him into the business halfway through his time at Stanford. Bartowski Electronics Corporation was already lucrative, making headway, filling the family coffers, as it were. He was set for life because of who his father was. And it did have a way of making you feel privileged, like you were just lucky, given an advantage in life no one else had.
He worked hard, though. He had to. He had to make sure B.E.C. stayed relevant in an industry that changed practically on the daily. He ran the company's transitions, set up sponsorships, met with partners, anything his dad couldn't fit into his own busy schedule…
It was something he had to pound into his own head. He was earning his role in the company by working as hard as he was, by coming up with fresh ideas, by reaching out in the community.
Sarah needed to find that place where she could recognize her skills, and he understood now that the only way she thought she could do that was starting this agency without anyone giving her a hand up.
That was why Chuck was a bit nervous when he glanced over his shoulder to look at her laptop he'd set up on her table. She said she'd be more open to his help, and maybe it was too early for him to make this move…
Chuck turned back to the waffle iron then, set down the bowl and spoon, and opened the iron.
"Hmm…" He stared at the contraption, the blinking red light, and then he grabbed the oil spray and popped the cap off, spraying the iron and then watching the steam rise.
The tech guy heard his girlfriend's feet against the floorboards as she stopped at the doorway into the kitchen. "Okay, so do you turn it over when it goes DING or when it goes DINGDING?" he asked without looking at her. "Because it's already gone DING and it's gone DINGDING and I haven't even put anything in it yet."
He turned to watch as she giggled and walked over to join him. She was fully dressed for the day, he noticed with a bit of an inward pout, in spite of the fact that they'd woken up to rain. He'd been hoping for a lazy Saturday staying in.
"So ignore the beeps if you haven't even put anything in, first of all," she said, pulling her hair up into a ponytail as she sidled up next to him. "That seems obvious."
"A little less snark, maybe, Sarah Walker, P.I."
She giggled again and held up her hands defensively. "I'm just saying. Here, put the batter in the iron. I'll show you how it works."
He poured it in and she reached around him to shut it.
"Leave it like this until it does the DING."
"Or is it DINGDING?"
"Any kind of DING, Chuck. It DINGS until you turn it over. It can sense it."
"Like Morgan's car. If I take off my seatbelt before we pull into his driveway, it beeps at me like an angry mom. Put on your seatbelt, Charles!" he mimicked, making her laugh.
At the DINGDINGDING, Chuck turned the iron over, thrusting his hands out in a ta da motion. She rolled her eyes, still smiling.
"How'd you sleep?" he asked, then.
"Really, really well. I feel fully rested and ready to take on the worl—Oh shit, it's raining." Her face fell as she finally looked out the window.
He laughed. "You didn't know it was raining?'
"Still have the curtains shut in my room so no, thank you, I didn't know. This is dumb. I'm not going out in this."
"That was sort of my plan, too. If you'll have me. 'Cause your building doesn't have an elevator and I don't want to go back down those three flights just yet, know what I mean?"
"God, you're so lazy," she teased, going into her fridge to grab the eggs. "Want a fried egg?"
"Hell to the yeah."
"And of course you can stay. I'm just going to be doing a bit of work and then watching TV. Maybe I'll read a book 'cause that's a bit more productive."
He wrinkled his nose in faux disappointment. "Aw man. I left my laptop at home. And my tablet. Guess I can't do any work today. Just going to have to watch TV and take multiple naps."
She laughed and then caught sight of the laptop on the table. "Hey, did I leave my laptop open last night? That's weird. I thought I put it away."
"Uhhh…No, I…I had to check something. I hope that's okay. Um, checked my email.""Oh." She shrugged. "That's fine. The DING happened already. You might want to take the waffle out before it gets a little too crispy."
"Oh. Shit." He spun back and opened the iron, grabbing the tongs and peeling it out, slapping it onto the plate.
"I was really just making sure I wasn't going insane or something, thinking I put my laptop away when I didn't."
He inadvertently gave off a nervous laugh then, and damn him for it, because she immediately noticed and was right at his side, leaving the two eggs frying on the stove. "What?" he asked when she looked at him pointedly.
"Your nervous laugh. You do that when you have something to tell me and you aren't sure how I'm going to take it."
Chuck sighed and turned off the iron, taking her hand and leading her out of the kitchen and around to her table. He woke her laptop, punched in her password, and gestured to the screen. She leaned in and immediately frowned. "What's this?" she asked.
"That's an email I composed this morning. I rewrote it maybe seventeen times to make sure it was…Well, anyway…"
"Who is Reggie Lincoln?" she asked. "What are you doing sending him an email about me?"
The good thing was she just seemed curious more than anything, and he didn't sense any anger.
"Lincoln & Associates Contracting. He's the CEO. He and my dad have been friends since college. I've known him for decades, my whole life pretty much. He's almost like an uncle. Sort of. I don't see him as often as I used to. But that's—that's beside the point." He cleared his throat. "Lincoln's a contracting business, has work everywhere, contacts up the ass. A shit ton of contacts. And a lot of them are pretty high profile, guys who have a lot to lose if they get in the papers over theft, whatever else they might be dealing with. I'm pretty sure some of them could use a private investigator with your skill sets. If only they knew you existed."
Sarah took a deep breath and turned to look at him. "So you're telling him to tell his friends about me." She shook her head. "This is something I should be doing for myself, isn't it? Like, marketing and advertising…that should be me."
"Sure, yeah. But this is different. Read the email. It's just a recommendation with your website and contact info. You did work for me and my dad, we're really pleased with the work, I think he and his associates might benefit from a P.I. with your supreme discretion. That sort of stuff."
"I'm your girlfriend, Chuck. He isn't going to know that? Come on."
"I don't know what he knows. Maybe Dad told him his son is dating a private investigator, I don't know. But who cares? I'm not asking him for a favor. I'm just passing along your information. He can do whatever he wants with it from there. Pass it on or not."
She sent him a bit of a flat look. "You're using loopholes in our agreement.""Maybe. A little." He winced. "Look, if he does decide to recommend you to other people, they're going to look at your website that you built, your résumé, your record with Pinkerton…They're going to make their decision about whether or not to call you based off of things you've done, not who you are or aren't connected to. I don't know Reggie's high roller buddies. They don't know me. I doubt they'd give a crap about whether you're my girlfriend or not. They'd want someone who can give them results, baby, and they're gonna decide based on you. Not me. Not Reggie. You."
He could see her thinking on it, and he wondered if he wasn't getting through to her. He took it an extra step further.
"Say they like what they see, they're worried some employee is stealing from them or something and they need a detective but they don't want this leaking to the press. They call you up and they talk to you. They won't be talking to me or anyone else. You'll be selling your skill sets. And when they hire you, because they will hire you, you're going to be working the case. It's all you. I'm just one of your past clients who was really pleased with the work you did to literally save my life a handful of times."
"You're really talking me into this," she said, pausing.
"And there's the email. I'm letting you decide if I should send it or not. If you don't want me to, I won't. It's okay." He reached down and moved the mouse to hover over SEND. "We'll have breakfast and pretend this didn't even happen."
There was a long pause, and then Sarah reached over to click. There was a whoosh sound and it was gone. When she turned to face him, she took a deep breath. "Thanks, Chuck. For helping me."
"It's all you, baby."
They hugged tightly and he buried his face in her hair. It occurred to him, then, that the rain had gotten worse outside, the pattering against the window more like a…sizzle?
"The eggs!"
Sarah dashed out of his arms as he laughed, turning to watch as she tried to rescue their breakfast, reveling in the tumult of the scene as he realized things were contradictorily calm and settled between them.
Just the way he liked it.
XOXOXOXOXOXOXO
Author's Note: Hopefully that was worth the months and months of waiting! Leave a review! I love those! (wink!) Thanks, everyone!