The Detective and the Tech Guy

Author: Steampunk . Chuckster

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: No money is being made from this story. I don't own Chuck or The Thin Man series.

Author's Note: This is the first part of "The Detective Versus the ManFatale".

XOXOXOXOXOXOXOXO

She found herself nodding off at her desk yet again, thanks to the long night she'd had.

Reaching up, she gave herself a few light smacks to the cheek and blinked, stretching her arms above her head. A satisfied smile made itself known on her face. The extra tiredness was more than worth it. Not sleeping more than the two hours she'd gotten earlier this morning? Worth it.

Part of her had been reluctant to say yes to Chuck when he proposed they "adventure" last night. Well, honestly, she'd misunderstood at first when he'd said they should "adventure", because she'd taken it in an "exploration" sort of way. It wasn't her fault, really, since they'd been wrapped up together on his couch watching TV at the time. Or not watching TV, because they were actually making out heavily with the TV on in the background. So it only made sense that she'd taken "We should adventure" as "Let's move from second base to third base".

Then she had realized he'd meant outside; actually going somewhere in the middle of the night and adventuring in the city.

She'd been more reluctant about that. Obviously. What woman wouldn't be when she had a Chuck Bartowski to enjoy being pinned under instead?

She snorted to herself and pushed her hands through her hair.

God, she was tired. Even if driving over bridges, climbing to the tops of hills, looking up at the stars from their spot on the sandy beach after walking along its shores, was all worth it.

Why did she even come to the agency today? She was her own boss. She could've taken today off, kissed Chuck goodbye as he left for work, and stayed all wrapped up in his bed for the rest of the day, sleeping the tiring (but invigorating) night she'd had off.

But that wasn't how she wanted to operate with Walker Investigative Enterprises. She was a damn professional. And she'd be here, yawning and all. Because she was honestly between cases and really needed to up the marketing to get someone with a case in here. Granted, most of the work she needed to do was ugly, horrible paperwork. Filing things for taxes, making sure the IRS didn't come busting her door down.

She yawned again and groaned, thumping her forehead against the top of her desk, taking a deep breath, and letting her eyes shut.

It was worth eventually walking up that hill to watch the sunrise with Chuck's arms around her.

Totally worth it.

And God, why hadn't she stayed in bed? Professionalism really was a lousy trait for someone to have.

Suddenly, she heard the soft sound of the hinges on the outer door to her agency creak, and she lifted her head, sitting up straight.

"Uh…ahem…anyone here? Is there a, um, a bell?"

She rushed out from behind her desk, opened her office door a bit more and stepped out. "Yes. Good afternoon. May I help you?"

The man lifted both eyebrows as he peered at her, and she couldn't help but notice the almost charming slow smile that presented itself on his handsome face. "It's a great afternoon suddenly, from where I'm standing."

She gave him an exceedingly polite smile. If this was a client, she couldn't afford to be rude. Literally, she couldn't afford it.

He cleared his throat, shaking himself a bit, seeming almost self-deprecating. And then he smirked a bit, as though…Well, he seemed pretty aware of himself. There was a thread of amusement at his own expense, which she didn't expect. "Right. Uh, I'm here to see the, um, private investigator. Detective Walker? Mister Walker? Not sure which…"

"I'm Sarah Walker, private investigator."

"It's you?" he asked. He pushed a hand through his wavy jet black hair, and grinned. "Wow, that's your name on the door, huh?"

"Yes. It is."

"Oh. Right. Sorry. I'll stop being such a prick and get to the reason why I'm here."

She wished he would. She was too tired for him to be standing here doing the same thing a lot of people had done when they first saw her. The gawking, either at her being a woman, or perhaps at the fact that she was as good-looking as she was, or both. The asking of that age-old question: "Really? You're Walker?"

Yes, asshole. Really.

She didn't care if this guy was handsome in an old school Alain Delon sort of way, or that he had a nice lilting accent that sounded like it might be British…but not at the same time. She thought he was probably South African, but the accent felt…different. A little off, maybe.

It was still freaking annoying that he fell into the same trap everyone else had.

"Uh, so…" He cleared his throat and shut the door behind him finally, straightening the tan suit he wore. "Well, I think I need your help."

"You think?"

"Well, I guess I know I need someone's help." He shook his head. "And I need someone good, someone who can be very discreet."

"I'm both of those things," she said, smirking a little.

A bit of a flirtatious look came over his features and he crossed his arms at his chest. "And confident, too. I like that."

"Why do you need a private investigator, Mister…?"

"Cartwright. Robert Cartwright. You can call me Robbie."

"What can I help you with, Mister Cartwright?"

"Not Robbie, then?" He chuckled and nodded. "Sorry. You're a professional. I should treat you as such. Inspector Walker? Detective?"

"Miss is just fine."

"That is good news."

The meaning wasn't lost on her, and she pretended it was, seemingly continuing to stare at him, waiting for him to actually get to business like he said he would ages ago. She was too tired to play games but she wanted a case to work on.

He cleared his throat again. "Right, well…It seems I'm in a bit of trouble, Miss Walker."

"All right. Come into my office and we'll talk about it."

"You mean you'll take my case?" he asked hopefully.

She sent him a bit of an amused look. "Did I say that?" she asked over her shoulder, eyeing him, and she led him into her office, gesturing for him to take a seat across the desk from her, taking her own seat after. "Can I get you water? Coffee?"

"Do you have any whiskey?"

"No."

"Well, good. I'm a champagne man, myself."

Sarah smirked. His sense of humor was catching her off-guard in a similar way to the way Chuck's had, especially when she'd first met him a few years ago, sitting across from him in his father's office, not expecting him to be so handsome or charming, to the point where she'd found herself flirting with him without realizing it.

She wouldn't be flirting with Robbie Cartwright at all, and certainly not in the way she'd flirted with the tech nerd.

She was more than simply taken. When it came to Chuck, she was fully off the market, even for something as innocent as flirtation. Even if it was almost…intriguing…how similar parts of this man were to Chuck, while also being incredibly different. Maybe it was the place he was coming from, the way Chuck felt very sincere in everything he did while this man just made her feel a bit…not guarded, per se, just…on her toes.

It was very strange. She wanted to work it out more than she wanted to hear about his case, she found.

"I don't have champagne."

"No, I expect you wouldn't. Not here, anyway. Perhaps when you fix this issue of mine, we can find somewhere that does have champagne and celebrate?"

"Please, let's not get ahead of ourselves here, Mister Cartwright. I haven't taken your case. I still don't even know what it is yet." She went into her drawer, pulled out her small notepad, a pen, and leaned back in her chair, crossing her legs and propping the pad on her knee as she waited patiently.

"Yes. Sorry. I shouldn't just assume you are single…" He pulled his chin back a bit and looked at her through his eyelashes, as if hinting he wanted to know if she was single. She didn't owe him any information about her personal life or romantic life. And anyway, whether she was attached to someone or not, he owed her more respect than to be broaching the subject of champagne or celebration when he'd literally just walked in to ask her to help him with an 'issue'.

"Mister Cartwright, your problem you need help with…?" she finally prompted, as if she didn't even notice the way he paused significantly.

He seemed to pick up on what she was doing and seemed to appreciate it as he smirked and nodded. "I apologize. You're…very distracting." She had no response to that. "Right. Yes. Well… There is this…acquaintance, shall we say, of mine. Normally, I try to mind my own business, especially when I don't know a person, right? But there's just something about him that seems…not right."

"How so?" Sarah asked, twirling her pen in her fingers.

"Jerald Brown. Have you heard of him?"

"No, I'm afraid not."

"He's an alleged philanthropist. Think he has a tech company or something. But I keep hearing things about business dealings that just don't add up. And with the connection he has to philanthropy, the amount of people who depend on him being on the up and up, it's genuinely concerning."

Sarah frowned, giving him a dubious look. "What does that have to do with you, Mister Cartwright?"

"Maybe I'm just a good guy."

He chuckled when she gave him a flat look. She wouldn't stand for a potential client treating her like she was stupid.

"I'm sorry, you're right," he said, smiling, his light blue eyes sparkling. "I'm an okay guy. It's mostly that I'm thinking about maybe doing some business with him. I want to make sure he's not involved in any illegal business dealings. I don't want to be hoodwinked or have my named tied up with his if he's…disreputable. I want to know he's a good family man."

"Are you a 'good family man', Mister Cartwright?" she asked, without a hint of flirtation.

He apparently took it that way, though, as he grinned and leaned forward. "I am not, Miss Walker. Any particular reason why you ask?"

"Yes," she said, smiling a little. "Because I wonder why you require a potential business partner to be a good family man if you don't require that of yourself."

"Oh." He sat back again. "Perhaps—and I'll admit this to you, Miss Walker, because I'm not claiming to be an angel by any means," he said, with a mischievous look she might've been more attracted to at some other point in her life, namely the past, "I might be something of a hypocrite. Perhaps I expect more of my colleagues than I do of myself." He shrugged. "Isn't that human? Don't we all?"

She sniffed in amusement. "Touché."

He grinned again at her assenting his point.

"So, will you take my case, Miss Walker?"

Sarah eyed him for a long time, flipping her notepad shut, open, shut, open… There was something about him that intrigued her. And it wasn't exactly a good intrigue she got from this first impression, like she'd gotten from her very first encounter with Chuck; it wasn't a need to know more about him, to know him better because he seemed like it would make her feel good to know him. No, this was different. She wanted to get to the bottom of where this guy was coming from because he wasn't like other people she'd met. Something set her on edge and she wanted to know why.

It wasn't just the clicking lilt of his accent or the way he seemed to emphasize certain words in his speech, every syllable coming out measured and precise as if he was parsing words. The more he sat across from her and spoke to her, the more his charm was less genuine and more a blanket to cover something else, or it was a distraction perhaps.

But she wanted to keep this guy around, she decided, keep him in her sights. She found she didn't care much about Jerald Brown. Robert Cartwright had her full attention.

So she nodded. "All right, Mister Cartwright. I'll look into Jerald Brown for you. It might take some time. I need to tail him, get some information, meet with contacts." She climbed up from her chair and set her notepad and pen on her desk.

"Take all the time you need, Miss Walker." He clapped once and stood as well, smiling in relief. "As long as it's discreet. I don't want a potential future business associate to know I've sicked a wicked P.I. on him."

"Wicked?" she asked, smirking.

"Mhm. Oh, don't worry. It's a compliment."

She gave him a look, then pulled her calendar out, scanning it. "Do you have time to meet again on Friday? I'll draw up a payment plan, we can go over that, and we'll solidify what you need from me."

The look on his face told her he was just barely resisting the urge to tell her exactly what he needed. And she was glad he was holding back. She didn't want to have to draw lines with a client. It was demeaning.

"Here?" he asked.

"Yes. Please. Noon work for you?"

"Friday at noon." He straightened his suit again. "Shall I bring the champagne?"

"I don't drink when I'm working, Mister Cartwright."

He held his hands up. "Of course. But may I try again to ask you to call me Robbie? I might be a bit too entrenched in my South African ways…"

She wasn't sure that was a South African thing. It sounded more like a Guy Who Was Attracted To A Woman sort of thing. But she didn't care enough to dispute him. "If that makes you more comfortable, then I will."

"It does."

She nodded, neglecting to tell him he could call her Sarah. Because, honestly, he couldn't. "All right. See you on Friday, then, Robbie."

His wide smile was charming again as he flashed her a double thumbs up. "Sounds great. Thank you for considering my case, Miss Walker."

She nodded, watching as he left. And it wasn't until the main door out into the hallway shut behind him that she let out a long sigh and sagged against the desk her assistant would sit at. If she had one.

This was going to be interesting.

Very interesting.

XOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXO

Chuck was in the middle of blowing a robot's head off when he heard the door to his condo open. "Hey, hot stuff," he called over his shoulder, not looking as he finished off another robot.

A few seconds later, as he beat the level, pumping his fist in front of him with a "yessssss", he felt her cool hand slide over the back of his neck.

"You knew I wasn't Morgan, right?" she asked. "I feel like I just need to make sure."

He cracked up and saved, turning it off altogether. "He doesn't have a key to my place. You're the only one who does."

"Good point," she giggled, leaning down and kissing the top of his head. He noticed she had her briefcase draped over her shoulder but she wasn't in her work clothes, in stretchy pants and a V-neck shirt instead. "You don't have to turn off your game."

"Nah, that was a good stopping point."

"I'm going to be doing work anyway." She lifted her briefcase and huffed, plopping down onto the couch next to him and swinging the strap off over her head, dropping it to the floor next to her feet, kicking off her sneakers and tucking her legs under her body.

He lifted his arm and let her lean into his side, draping that same arm over her shoulders and pulling her close. "Paperwork?"

"A case."

"Oh. Oh!" He squeezed her shoulder. "Hey! A case! That's awesome! Tell me everything. The whole thing. I want to know every detail."

She giggled. "Chuck, I can't give you every detail of every client's case."

"Fiiine." He gave her a put-upon sigh and got his hair ruffled for it, giggling and trying to push her hand out of his curls. He managed to wrestle her down into his lap, her head resting on his thighs and she beamed up at him, blowing some of her blond locks out of her face and threading her fingers with his, resting them on her abdomen. "You can tell me, like, highlights if you want."

She giggled. "You win. But only because it's really adorable how excited you are about my work."

"That's mostly just because it's you. I hope you know that."

Sarah's blue eyes softened and she reached up to pinch his chin. "I love you a lot." He just grinned down at her, resting his hand on her head and stroking her hair back from her face. "So, yeah. This, uh, rich guy from South Africa wants me to look into someone he's thinking of doing business with. That's all."

"Ah, doing some vetting, huh?"

"Mhm."

"Some discreet vetting. That's the best kind."

She chuckled. "I guess so. It's not as easy."

"But you got it. You're incredible at being discreet." He shrugged. "You're incredible at everything."

Sarah beamed up at him. "You're being so cute and schmaltzy tonight. What's up with that?"

"I dunno," he said with a chuckle. "I missed you. Haven't seen you in, like, two and a half days. Do you get to tail this guy?"

She made a face, probably at his quick change of subject. But she still answered. She was too used to him doing that to her, he thought. "Yeah, I do. I have to, I don't get to. Tailing people isn't fun in any way, shape, or form, Chuck."

"No, I'm sure it's no piece of cake or anything. But it is kinda cool."

"You just think that because you watch too many movies that make it look cool. It's completely boring and exhausting."

He huffed. "I'll take your word for it. Since you're a professional. So is this South African guy just wanting to make sure he won't get himself into trouble being connected to this other guy?"

"Yes. Cartwright seems…I dunno…" She paused, biting her lip. "There's something I can't quite put my finger on. He's charming, doesn't seem like a terrible person or anything. I've spent the last few days just doing a quick check on him, building a little dossier of sorts. Mostly keeps to himself, stays out of the limelight… couldn't really find any pictures of him as a result. At least nothing prior to a few months ago."

Chuck had already pulled his phone out and brought up Google. "What's his full name?"

"Robert Cartwright," she said, giggling as he typed it in. "You really think I didn't Google image search him? There are literally no pictures of the guy. Anywhere. Just a recent picture on some low-tier celebrity blogger's page."

"That's impressive." He scrolled through. There really was nothing. "Oh. What about this guy?"

"Mm. No. That's not him. That's for some crab shack restaurant or something in Maine. A different Robert Cartwright."

"How did he manage this? I want to talk to him and ask him. Because I would love this to happen when people Google search for Charles Bartowski. Instead of that stupid fuckin' picture of me from that celebrity video game tournament when I'm practically biting my tongue off in concentration. Four years later and I still don't know how to purge the Internet of that damn picture. Headphones smashing my hair in all these weird directions."

"I love that picture. I'm gonna print it out and frame it…keep it on my desk at the agency to remind me of how lucky I am."

"Stop it."

She giggled with her tongue between her teeth. "And I'll tape a hundred dollar bill to it to remind me of how rich you are, which is why I'm really lucky."

Chuck's jaw fell open as he cracked up, trying to grab her as she bolted upright out of his lap and dove out of his reach.

They eventually settled into their routine of sorts, Chuck strewn long ways across the couch, his head in her lap, his laptop propped on his abdomen, Sarah holding the file she was building on the Jerald Brown "mark" she'd eventually told him about as they talked about the case here and there.

It had surprised him. He'd heard about Jerald Brown even if he hadn't ever done business with him, or even crossed paths with him. But the man seemed like he was genuine, not a criminal, even above reproach, if the things Chuck heard about him in the past were any indication. He told Sarah that, in not so many words, and she'd seemed to mull it over for a while.

"Okay, here's what I don't get…" she said finally. "Are you busy? May I confer with your stellar brain?"

Chuck snorted. "You may. Though my stellar brain might need a martini to really feel stellar. I held off on a martini earlier because I think I just had a sixth sense you'd be coming over tonight and I should wait."

"Awww, are we at that point in this relationship when our minds are melding?"

"Oh, definitely," he hummed. "I'm gonna mind meld with you right now. You're going to ask me why Cartwright isn't as handsome or as cool as I am, even if he is from South Africa and has a tight accent."

She laughed, her head falling back. "How did you do that?" she asked, booping him on the nose. He chuckled. "He does have a tight accent, though. But I was going to say I don't get why Cartwright is so paranoid about Jerald Brown."

Chuck shrugged, shutting his laptop with a yawn and reaching over to set it on the coffee table. "You said he keeps to himself, stays out of the limelight. Maybe he's just like that. Paranoid. Thinking everyone's out to get him, steal from him. Even guys on the up and up like Brown."

"But does he hire a P.I. for every single business transaction, every partnership? My fees aren't exactly cheap, and I'm on the lower end of the private detective LA circuit. Why is he so paranoid about Brown in particular?"

"Maybe he knows something about Brown he isn't telling you. Like, he's testing you to see if you can figure it out for yourself."

She gave him a look. "Chuck, what would be the point of that?"

"I…" He thought for a few seconds. "Don't know. Sorry. I'm just lobbin' ideas atcha. Seeing if anything sticks. I don't know of anything Brown might be hiding."

"You might be right and he's just paranoid. I bet you are right, actually. He just doesn't seem like that type of guy. He seemed…outgoing. Kind of mischievous and teasing. He didn't really fit the paranoid build."

Chuck froze a little. Something about the way she'd been talking about this guy made him sound like he was on the younger side, but also that he might be…compelling, charming. That interested him. And set off a few quiet but definitely still there alarm bells. But there was also something about the way her eyes became so sharp, her lips pursed, like she was deep in thought, working something out… He knew her enough to know there was more to this guy than met the eye.

"Just how much about this guy's build did you notice, Sarah Walker, P.I.?" he asked, widening his eyes and sitting up, shifting close to her and facing her full on.

"Shut up," she giggled. "You know exactly what I meant."

"Yeah, yeah. Sure. He's probably, like, some ManFatale…flipping his hair and giving you a dark, dangerous look as he tells you he's in trouble." She began laughing and shaking her head as he affected an old-timey accent. "I'm in big trouble, Sarah Walker, P.I., and I need help. I need ya help, see?" He smoldered to finish it off.

"Why do I even like you?"

"Martinis and money."

Sarah cackled and slid her fingers into his hair at the back of his head, leaning in to give him a long kiss. "Mmmm, both of those things help." He loved the cheeky way she smiled at him, biting her lip. "But speaking of martinis…"

"On their way." He pecked her lips and got up from the couch, yelping as she gave his backside a swat while he moved past where she sat. "You know, sometimes you do that and I feel like a piece of meat," he teased, going to the bar and grabbing everything he needed.

"Wait, do you really?" she asked, and he looked over his shoulder to see that the look on her face was one of sincere concern.

"No," he said with a snort. "You just got through talking about my stellar brain, after all."

"It is pretty stellar."

"Thank you. And so is yours. You're like if Poirot was an incredibly sexy woman in her twenties instead of an old Belgian man with a crazy cool mustache."

She giggled. "Would you still love me if I had a crazy cool mustache?"

"What?" He finished the martinis in record time and went into his kitchen to grab a few olives for himself. "I think I would love you extra, if I'm bein' honest."

That earned him a strange look as he came back in with their drinks, one in each hand.

"No, seriously. Maybe while you're tailing Jerald Brown you can wear one for me, huh?" He made a play growl sound as he carefully sat next to her and handed her a martini.

"You're so weird and I love you so fucking much." She sipped her martini and moaned. "So much. How is it this good every time?"

"Baby, I'm a masterpiece. Obviously." He chuckled as she let out a bubbly giggle, tugging on one of his curls.

"You kind of are, though."

"Mm nope. I have my faults."

"Sure. So do I. And yet…you masterpiece." She shut the folder on her lap and set it to the side, on top of his laptop.

"Oh. Folder's away. Uh oh. What are you up to—? OH."

Sarah had swung her leg over to straddle him, martini still in hand, interrupting him with a slow, and sizzling if he did say so himself, kiss. When she pulled back, she took another calm sip of the drink.

"I have an idea."

"Please God tell it to me," he breathed out in a rush.

That made her snort, and yet it didn't break the heated mood even a bit. "What day is tomorrow?"

"That's a question, not an idea—Sorry. Uh, Thursday."

"Thursday. Well, I don't have anything pressing at the agency. Do you have anything pressing at B.E.C.?"

"No."

"You sure?"

"I'll cancel everything."

She beamed. "You don't have—"

"Listen, if you weren't currently sitting on my phone, I would've already texted Adisa to cancel everything for tomorrow by now."

Chuckling, she leaned in and kissed him again. She had this way of coupling a slow, heated kiss with stroking his hair that made him feel like he was sitting in a fire pit in the middle of the Saharan desert.

"Let's stay in tomorrow," she murmured against his lips.

"Perfect. We can do an X-Files marathon."

Sarah giggled and shook her head. "Stop it." She kissed him again.

"No, I'm serious. Nothin' like aliens and—"

He stopped when she pressed her finger to his lips. "Okay, you really need to know when to shut up."

Chuck smirked. "Yeah, true. It's one of my faults."

"I can work with it."

"Oh?"

"I have ways of shutting you up."

"Do y—Oh. Oh, wow you do."

XOXOXOXOXOXOXOXO

Chuck was in a bit of a sour mood as he pulled up to the parking lot beside the building where Sarah's agency was. That was why he was here in the first place, wasn't it? To get rid of his mood. His girlfriend had a singular way of chasing the dark clouds away.

Also, he was hungry and he thought he'd treat her to lunch.

He hadn't seen her walk out of her apartment this morning with a packed lunch like she did more often these days. It saved money, she said, his frugal and responsible private investigator.

Well, she'd save money today, because lunch was on him.

He needed to get his mom's stinging barbs from earlier out of his mind. He needed to get rid of the anger he'd felt at her words. And he needed to do it before he got up to Sarah's agency, because she'd see the look on his face no matter what he did to hide it, and he'd have to tell her that his mom was being awful about her again.

He hated that it hurt her.

He hated that his mom still did this.

He and Sarah were approaching their second anniversary: it was almost two years since that morning they ate breakfast together on the floor of his half-demolished hotel room in Paris, when they decided to make a genuine go of it. And his mom had known about their relationship for over a year now. She still couldn't just…be nice.

It had felt a lot worse today because he'd almost let himself hope that Mary Bartowski was starting to come to terms with her son's relationship with the woman Pinkerton sent to protect him two and a half years ago, her son's relationship with the woman he had more than proven he was in love with. And he felt like Sarah had more than proven she reciprocated his feelings.

His mother had been almost pleasant, in a sincere way, the past few weeks. She'd extended a genuine invite over the weekend for Chuck and Sarah to come have a meal with the whole family. That had included Devon's parents, even, which was just…unheard of. Even when she had asked Chuck about inviting Sarah's parents, when he told her that they weren't in the picture, since he didn't really know much more than that honestly, his mom had seemed sorry and sympathetic, rather than using it as yet another reason to hint something was wrong with Sarah. There was no tone when she'd said, "Oh. Poor Sarah. I didn't know." And it had given him some hope.

But today, she'd gone back to her usual business when she'd visited Chuck in his office, asking whether Sarah was getting clientele yet, if "after all of this time", she actually had a job. As though the months and months of her building up her agency wasn't literally a job, even if she didn't get paid for it until she took on her first case.

It was worse because he'd built so much hope, only to have it dashed. Like she'd been saving it up for the exact purpose to make him feel even more like shit. He knew that wasn't the case. And he knew she had misgivings about Sarah for reasons that were real for her. But she was wrong. And until she accepted Sarah, she'd always be wrong.

He needed to find some way to deal with it besides being so angry all the time. He was well past done allowing his mother to hurt Sarah, and that meant keeping these small rifts he had with his mother over her from reaching her ears.

Taking a deep breath, he got out of his car and headed inside of the building, pressing the button and waiting for the elevator.

He straightened his blazer and took another deep breath. He was about to see his favorite person in the world for the second time in one day, if waking up beside her this morning counted. He counted it. And he was incredibly happy about it, ready for it. He needed it, frankly.

Even just seeing that epic door of hers, with the foggy glass and her name printed on it: Walker Investigative Enterprises. It filled him with joy. She was living her dream. She was here. They were here together.

His mom could frankly sit down and shut up. He tried not to inwardly wince at that thought. As though wherever she was, Mary Bartowski might feel or hear his thought about her, fly to his side, and ground him, send him to his room, bar him from his video games.

Chuck opened the door to her outer office and stopped when he heard voices inside of her personal office. Oh…she had a client, a visitor, someone was here. He felt like maybe he should turn back, leave, and come back in fifteen minutes maybe. He could text her first. And then he'd come back.

Or…

He could eavesdrop…since that was what he wanted to do more. As much as he knew he shouldn't. But he just wanted to.

So he oh so silently crept in and eased the door shut. The hinge creaked a bit and he made a note to bring some WD40 at some point to fix that. But he didn't hear the voices stop, so he assumed they hadn't heard.

"This fee is more than doable," the man in her office said, his voice wafting out of the not-quite-shut door. "In fact, it feels like a steal. Why don't you let me give you more up front?"

"It isn't necessary," Sarah said. "I have a set rate I charge my clients depending on the type of case and the work that will go into it. This is a fair price to start."

"It's too fair. I'll up it by thirty-three percent." The man chuckled. "Oh, come on. You know, I'm trying really hard here to thank you. A little kindness, you know…" Chuck rolled his eyes at that. "For someone I like." That made him frown a little. "And it helps that upping the paycheck I give you means I might get even better work from you."

"I do my job pretty well with the rate I set."

"That's not what I mean at all."

"No, I know," Sarah said, being more than reasonable, Chuck thought. "Robbie, please just agree to this, read through it, sign. That's all I need from you. This amount here, write me a check up front. And the rest when I finish the job. I reserve the right to charge more depending on the work I end up having to do for the case."

Robbie…?

"You're really stubborn, you know that? But I'll match your stubbornness as we continue to see one another, you just give me some time." There was a pause, the sound of papers being turned, the scratching of a pen against paper. "This is a lot better than an Apple terms and services agreement, I'll tell you that. You get right to the point, don't you, Sarah Walker?"

"I find brevity works better for everyone involved."

"Oh, not me. I love complications. I'd have complications' children if it was at all possible."

Chuck heard Sarah giggle at that. He felt a bit of heat come up from his collar, knowing how foolish it was immediately. Even if this Robbie fellow was obviously charming and even more obviously flirting with his girlfriend, his girlfriend hadn't flirted back—nor would she. It wasn't his ego telling him that, it was his trust in her, in them.

And he needed to cool it with the green-eyed monster.

But he found it even harder to do when he leapt back to the visitor chair and sat down, grabbing the issue of Cosmopolitan that was sitting there and picking it up to pretend he was reading it, because out came a stupidly handsome man, dressed in a spiffy, tailored suit, insanely perfect swoosh-hair, and blue eyes that were literally sparkling as he looked over his shoulder at Sarah as she followed him out of her private office.

"So you're shooing me out—?" The words died on the stupidly handsome man's lips as he noticed Sarah had stopped, looking at something else. That something else was Chuck and he was pretty mollified and gratified both by the dazzling smile she flashed him after her client spun to see what she was looking at. Or whom.

"Oh," Sarah said. "You're here."

"I am." He nodded once, then looked down at the magazine in his hands. The page he'd randomly opened it to in order to make it seem like he wasn't eavesdropping was absolutely a full-page How To chart for oral sex. "Ahem." He dropped the magazine back to the table. "Interesting…articles…in there. Informative," he said, tugging at his suit a bit to straighten it.

The stupidly handsome man seemed to just be standing there awkwardly then, and Sarah snapped out of her amused, but somewhat searching look, and gestured towards the door.

"Mister Cartwright, I'll fill you in on what I find Monday when we meet again."

"You don't work on weekends then, huh?" Cartwright asked, smiling teasingly.

"I do, yes. Hence why I'll have something for you on Monday."

Yeah, you stupidly pretty assmunch, Chuck thought to himself with an inward smirk. God, she was so hot.

"Oh. That makes sense." He chuckled self-deprecatingly, then turned to eye Chuck a bit expectantly.

It became clear to everyone in the room that he wouldn't leave without some sort of an introduction. So Sarah, very reluctantly Chuck saw, moved between them and reached out in his direction. "Oh, excuse me, Mister Cartwright. This is Mister…"

"Bartowski," Chuck said, stepping closer and sticking his hand out. "Charles Bartowski."

Robert Cartwright's eyes widened in recognition as he took his hand. "As in Bartowski Electronics Corporation?"

"That's the one, yes. Nice to meet you, Mister, uh…"

"Cartwright," the other man said with a grin. Sarah gave Chuck a bit of a droll but amused look that only he could see.

"Cartwright, yes. Sorry. Have so much on my mind, always."

"Oh, yes. Yes. So you're seeking Miss Walker's services as well, are you?" He crossed his arms at his chest.

"Yes. Yes, I am…seeking Miss Walker's services." He shared a bit of a look with Sarah and he could see that telltale sparkle in her blue eyes, the way she twisted her pursed lips to the side, probably to keep from smiling or laughing.

"Well, I don't think either of us has anything to worry about. You're highly recommended, Miss Walker. I've heard nothing but very good things, and I get around and hear…well, quite a lot. In my business." Cartwright clapped his hand on Chuck's shoulder, even though he'd been talking to and looking at Sarah.

"Yes, Walker Investigative Enterprises operates with the utmost discretion. So discreet. Professional." Cartwright turned back to Chuck as he responded.

She mouthed "Stop it" from where she stood behind Cartwright, her eyes wide, amusement threatening to boil over.

"Indeed, Charles. Indeed. Well, Miss Walker, I'll let you see to your other client, I suppose, though it's hard to pull myself away, I admit…" the other man groused, and then he reached out his hand towards Sarah for her to shake. He held onto her hand for longer than Chuck thought was necessary, then bid his goodbye and swept out of the place.

He was charming as all get-out and it made Chuck feel…grumpy. And what in the hell was with the strange clip in his accent, like he was concentrating? It didn't feel like an easy charm and it unsettled him. It was probably jealousy. And he was even grumpier about that.

But then Sarah sidled up to him, twisted her hands in the lapels of his jacket, and pulled him in for a slow kiss. "Mmmmm," she hummed, before pulling back, their noses and foreheads pressed together. "Why didn't you just let me tell him you're my boyfriend?"

"Honestly? Two reasons. The first is that he'd trust a recommendation from a super rich tech guru with high expectations over a recommendation from your boyfriend." That made her grin. "The second is that if you told him I was your boyfriend, after all of that flirting he was doing at you, it'd be a little embarrassing for him and I wouldn't be able to hold back the hubris. Which is just rude."

Sarah looked like she was going to laugh, but then an intelligent spark lit her eyes and she pursed her lips, raising an eyebrow. "He wasn't really flirting that bad…"

"Uh, yes. Yes, he kinda was. I mean, he doesn't seem like a full-fledged garden or anything…"

"Garden?" she asked, making a face.

"Seedy. It's a new thing Morgan and I came up with. The term'll catch on. Just wait."

"Oh my God." She just shut her eyes and pinched the bridge of her nose, her usual reaction to the weird phrases he and Morgan tried to trademark.

"Wait." She looked at him funny. "Are you…jealous?"

Chuck scoffed. "Nah. It's just…I mean, I walked in and you called him, um, Robbie. And when he flirted with you, there was a liiittle bit of a giggle that came out of you. I'm just sayin'. I heard it. But…I mean, no big deal."

"Chuck, stop."

"No, it's just that he looks like someone took him right out of GQ's Face Edition."

"There's no such thing."

"If there was, he'd be the cover. He's a ManFatale, Sarah. Don't let those baby blues fool ya. That one's dangerous." He leaned his face close to hers and narrowed his eyes, lifting an eyebrow.

"Oh my God," she groaned, letting her forehead fall to his shoulder. "Chuck, I was—" Then she stopped, pulling back a bit and looking up at him through her eyelashes. "I really don't have to explain myself, do I?" It was more of a statement than a question.

"You know you don't," he said softly.

"I didn't think so."

"But seriously, he's kind of too charming. That's weird. And also, how'd he know who I am, Sarah?"

She gave him her 'what the fuck' look. "Chuck, I literally just told him who you are. I introduced you to him."

"No, I know. But he knew Bartowski Electronics Corporation. What's that about?"

"Seriously, Chuck? It's not exactly like B.E.C. isn't well-known. You were on the cover of Forbes with your dad. Where do you think all of that money I'm dating you for comes from?"

"Haaah," he drawled mockingly, sending her a faux glare that made her giggle. "I'm just saying, I'm a little suspicious."

"You're a little jealous."

He held up his fingers. "Just this much. That's all. He looks like a god, Sarah. And he was flirting. Admit that." She conceded with a small shrug. "Am I allowed a little jealousy? Even if I acknowledge it's silly?"

She giggled quietly and kissed him again. "Yes. It's good for my ego. But that doesn't mean you can start flirting back at that Benji Thompson guy's daughter who was at your parents' little anniversary shindig a few months ago."

"Marilyn?"

"Yes. Her."

The way she narrowed her eyes was extremely gratifying, and he held onto the sensations of knowing that interaction had made Sarah into a bit of a green-eyed monster. Not to mention she'd remembered Marilyn Thompson even all these months later. Hmm. "Well, at least we're being ridiculous together," he snarked.

Sarah snorted. "True." She kissed him one more time, then fixed the collar of his suit jacket. He didn't know if it really had needed fixing or if it was just a habit of hers to play with it. "What brings you here today, my tech guy? Miss me already? Even after this morning?"

Her blue eyes glinted with what she'd done to him this morning and he cleared his throat, his hands balling into fists over the waist of her pencil skirt she wore. "I think especially after this morning, if I'm bein' honest."

That made her giggle.

"I actually wanted to take you to lunch. If you haven't eaten."

She hadn't.

And that was how they found themselves sitting across from one another at a breakfast and lunch cafe a few blocks away from her office. He watched as she hungrily shoved her burger in her mouth and took a massive bite. He was glad he'd pulled her away to eat. Any later and she would've let herself start to become Hangry Sarah. And Hangry Sarah was almost as bad as Hangry Chuck. God, the few times Hangry Sarah and Hangry Chuck had met…scary. Truly scary. Morgan had nearly been murdered but thankfully the chef had fed them fast enough to protect himself.

So he waited until she'd gotten enough into her system to eat a bit slower before he brought up the other thing.

"Hey…So…Interesting timing, me coming to take you to lunch today, what with your meeting with Cartwright and everything being today as well." She made a questioning face as she sipped her ice tea to wash the burger down. "Well, because I was actually going to talk to you about that case. Cartwright's case I mean."

"Why? You have info or something for me?" she asked around a fry.

"Yes." He cleared his throat. "So, this um…" Chuck leaned in closer to her and lowered his voice. "Jerald Brown guy, the one Face Edition is having you investigate." She gave him a flat look at the new nickname he was using for her client but he ignored it. "He works in the tech industry."

She nodded. "Yeah. He has a large share in Gridiron Technology."

"GT deals mostly with the big machines, like the big security systems, power grid, all that digital stuff big firms and factories are using to operate and protect their businesses." Sarah nodded again, as though she already knew all of this. "GT is looking for a new investor. Someone else they can bring in to buy some shares and add some power and money to the whole thing, get back some clout after their stock took a hit last year."

"Cartwright," she said.

"Mhm, that was my thought."

She smiled at him. "How'd you find all this out?"

"Babe, I'm in the know. Duuuuh." She rolled her eyes as he picked at the lettuce on his own burger and put a bit in his mouth. "This is my playground. My dad's pals with all of these guys. Or at least, he knows of them. And because he does, I tend to learn stuff, hear stuff as well. But!" Chuck held up a finger. "This is really hush-hush. They don't want to seem like they need this investor. So they're being discreet, operating it under the radar, so to speak."

"So is that shady? Seems like it could be shady."

"It could be, but it'd be a lot of damn work and for what reason? There's also the fact that Jerald Brown has a reputation."

"What kind of reputation?"

"A really good one. Family man, good business, fair, honest."

"Family man." She rolled her eyes. "That's such a loaded phrase."

He winced. "Really good point. He has a family and he seems close with them, though."

"You ever meet him? Do business with him?"

"No, but…I mean, speaking from experience, I'd say Brown is a lot more trustworthy than this god-like Casanova giving you money to investigate a guy who seems pretty upstanding."

"Chuck, your green-eyed monster is showing."

"No, it's not that," he hissed. "Brown is a tech guy. I trust a tech guy over a smarmy rich guy who, frankly, you don't even know where he gets his money. Let's be real, here. Um, also, Jerald Brown can be found on Google."

"Stop," she said in a flat tone. "Chuck, come on. You're being biased because Brown works in your industry and you heard Cartwright flirt at your girlfriend."

"No, I—Sarah, please. You know I'm not that childish." She smirked and he frowned at her. "Fine. Look. Just keep what I said in mind, huh? And maybe look into Gridiron Tech a bit more closely."

"That's good advice, and I also appreciate you giving me that info about GT, Chuck. Thank you," she said, sliding her hand over his on the table and squeezing. "And please, try not to be too jealous. Said with no sarcasm and full seriousness. His Alain Delon looks don't have any effect on me. Not when I have my very own curly-haired, handsome moneybags."

"Talk about my money too much and I'll start getting ideas."

"Oh? What kind of ideas?"

"Expanding the company to make even more money. Gotta keep ya around somehow." She laughed and he put his tongue between his teeth, wrinkling his nose cheekily. "With all these Alain Whoever ManFatales kicking your door in, one of 'em might succeed in sweeping you away from me otherwise."

"You're such an idiot."

"Buuuut you love meeee."

"On Mondays, Wednesdays, and Fridays."

Chuck snorted and ate his last couple of fries. "I'm really glad it's Friday, then."

XOXOXOXOXOXOXOXO

Author's Notes: Thanks for reading. Review if you have it in you. :)

-SC