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: Thanks, folks! Here's part 2 of the "The Detective and the Tech Gift"!
XOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXO
Chuck eased himself down into the bath and kept going until his entire head was submerged under the water. He stayed down there for as long as his lungs would permit, cursing his decision-making tonight.
He'd nearly been murdered thanks to his inability to follow his girlfriend's instructions—his girlfriend who was trained in using weapons like guns, knives, and her own freaking fists, who knew what to do in active situations involving gunfights, who'd worked side by side with police in dangerous scenarios, who knew what the fuck she was doing when she told him to stay in the car.
Grabbing the edges of the tub, he pulled himself back out of the water and took a deep breath, pushing his wet curls back from his face and leaning back against the end of the tub until his chin grazed the top of the water. He was a little too tall for this tub and his knees were poking out of the water. But whatever.
He could handle that.
What he was having a hard time handling was the image of that gun pointed at him.
He'd been so sure he was going to die. He was ready for the pain, the impact of the bullet hitting him. And when he heard the gun go off, he didn't feel the pain, or the impact. But the suspect went down, there was blood, yelling, and next thing he knew he was sitting down against a tree, and Sarah was there, grappling with his clothes, looking for bullet holes…bullet holes that weren't there, thanks to the police acting fast to save both his life and the suspect's.
Chuck slowly lifted his hands out of the water and stared at them. They'd finally stopped shaking. He had finally stopped shaking. But that didn't mean he was any less rattled. It had been seriously traumatic staring down the dark cavern of the gun's barrel as it pointed at his chest. And the finger on the trigger had twitched right before the hand practically exploded as a bullet slammed into it.
"Jesus Christ," Chuck whispered to himself before sinking down under the water again, as if that would erase the image from his brain. It didn't.
His nerves were shot. The image was branded into his mind's eye. And Sarah was rightfully livid with him.
He came back up and smoothed his wet hair back, turning to rest his chin on the edge of the tub and groaning.
She was currently trying to fix the harm he'd done by not listening to her, almost getting himself killed in the process. If anyone could fix it, it was Sarah Walker, P.I. But he felt like such an ass for putting her in that position in the first place.
The derisive tone that Officer Thompson woman had taken with her… and Sarah had taken it, she'd turned the other cheek so to speak, because this had been a royal fuck-up that could've had a horrible impact on the police's efforts to capture the suspect alive without anyone else ending up hurt. Or dead. And Sarah had known that, so she just took it and dragged him out of there like the officer had ordered her to do.
Now she had to grovel with another LAPD official to get back in good standing.
He felt like such a hindrance. And he wondered suddenly if he was the biggest hindrance to the advancement of Sarah's agency and reputation as a private investigator. His inability to stick to his own lane, rushing after her into harm's way. He needed to apologize again. But first he needed to get out of this bathtub.
He washed himself quickly, then climbed out, drained the tub, dried off, and put his sleeping clothes on, before he grabbed his phone and went downstairs to plop onto his couch. He pulled up her number immediately.
She'd most likely still be at the precinct pleading her case to Detective Sourpuss, so he didn't call her. Instead he sent her a message, because if he didn't, he thought he'd go mad.
He typed "Im sorry" first, sent that, and then typed: "I cant get the image out of my head. And I keep thinking youve had the same thing happen to you. Once that I know of but probably more during your Pink cases. That scares me honestly." His finger hovered over send. And then he sent it. He started typing immediately, knowing he was probably going a little overboard. But it was Sarah. She had to be used to this by now, right? He trusted her with these texts. "Plenty of people have loved ones in law enforcement who are in dangerous situations every day. Or like soldiers or whatever. Im 1 of em now. And I just have to figure out how to be ok w/ it and not chase you into risky situations. Thats just 1 more person youd have to look out for when you should be looking out for yourself. Im gonna try harder. I promise. Ill do whats safe even if it means Im scared shitless for you in the meantime." He read it over and over and over. And then he hit send. He ended it with an "I love you" and set his phone down.
Getting up and going to his bar, he fixed himself a martini and downed it, fixing himself another and taking it up to the roof along with his phone.
It wasn't for another hour and a half that his phone finally made the tell-tale ding! sound. And he reached over to grab it, looking at the screen. "We'll talk more in the morning, Chuck. Thank you for sending that, though. And I love you too. Get some sleep."
Chuck made a pfft sound and put the phone back down. Sleep. Right.
She hadn't told him what happened with Sourpuss. And it worried him a lot. Had things gone really poorly? Was she out a significant portion of her income now? Had her agency's reputation just picked up a massive injury because of his actions?
He thought he'd text her and ask. But "we'll talk more in the morning" felt like a hint that she didn't want to discuss it tonight. And that really underscored his worry that it was bad news.
The worry continued as he finally climbed back down off of the roof and settled on his couch to do some coding. And his brain was too distracted by everything that had happened to get anything real and concrete going which wasn't usually a problem for him. He could always count on the challenge of coding programs to push everything else out of his mind. Except for this.
Granted, even though he'd been shot at before, and nearly blown to bits, something exceptionally terrifying had happened. Looking at that gun, and above it a face that told him the man wielding the gun wouldn't blink before unloading a bullet or two into his chest, he'd felt a deep and dark sense of helplessness, hopelessness. That bleak sensation was still in him. Like the dredges of the bitterest crap coffee left at the bottom of the mug once the offending liquid was poured down the sink.
He set aside his laptop, turned on the TV, and stared at whatever reality show was on, some family yelling at each other while the cameras circled the melodrama, following the daughter stomping down the hallway to her room. It wasn't something he usually watched but the yelling and the annoying back and forth was at least helping to force his brain to do something else: judge these entitled, privileged people.
Chuck fell asleep that way, slumped awkwardly on his couch, the TV still blaring in the background.
XOXOXOXOXOXOXO
She ran as fast as her feet would take her, something deep inside of her telling her to hurry up, that she wasn't going to be in time…and her life depended on her being on time.
She would lose the most important thing in the world to her if she didn't get there in time.
Rounding the corner, she skidded to a stop, the heel on one of her shoes snapping and sending her to her knees. Hard. As she collided with the asphalt, catching herself with her hands, her gun sailed a few feet away from her.
She crawled after it, knowing she was going to need it, but as she looked up, she froze.
Chuck raised his hands as a second, shorter figure stepped out from behind a tree. The gun came up.
"No!" she screamed, lunging for her gun. She was too far away for a good shot but she'd take it anyway. Anything to save him.
Her fingers slipped against her gun, but she tightened them around it and fumbled it up into both of her hands, pointing it at the assailant.
A shot rang out through the night, and she knew…she knew it wasn't her gun. She hadn't pulled the trigger. She hadn't squeezed it. Instead she screamed. That had come from her. She'd felt it, the icy cold chill coursing through her, her heart shattering.
Because the suspect was standing, and Chuck was crumbling.
She watched for a split second as the tech guy staggered back, his shoe catching on the root of a tree, and he crashed hard into the ground. Sarah took her tear-filled eyes off of him, shock and anguish churning through her. She took a moment to unload four shots into the suspect before he could spin on his heel and keep running.
And she didn't look at him again, instead scrambling across the street. She fell to her knees in the grass beside Chuck, immediately pressing her hand to the hole in his chest. "No, no… no. Chuck, you're—HELP!" she screamed. But no one seemed to be anywhere near them. "HELP!" she screamed again, to no avail, looking around her. She scrambled to get her phone out, but her hand had Chuck's blood on it and the lock on her phone was… Oh God…
"S-Sarah… You weren't…"
"Shh. Sh, it's okay," she said through sobs. She looked up again. "SOMEBODY HELP HIM!"
She felt his hand, clammy and sticky with his lifeblood, clamp over hers where she still was trying to stop the bleeding and she looked down into his eyes. God, he was fading. He was fading fast. He seemed like he had something to say but couldn't get it out. She saw he was afraid. Terrified. He knew. He knew what this was.
"HELP!" she screeched again into the empty night. "Oh God, please…please…" She sank down lower, her face close to his. "Please don't go, Chuck. Don't leave me. I can't do this…I can't…"
But his hand went slack, his lips twitched one last time, and his head slipped back against the grass. He was gone. She yelled and screamed for him to come back, her voice a harsh contrast against the silence of the night surrounding her. She screamed until she was hoarse, sobbing… screaming…
Sarah's eyes snapped open and she let out a harsh breath, blinking through tears up at the dark ceiling of her bedroom. She untangled her arm from the sheets that were twisted around her form and clamped her hand down over her heart. It was racing like crazy.
She tried to take a deep breath to calm herself, knowing it had just been another nightmare, but it came out a sob.
Covering her face with one hand, she let herself have half a minute to cry, get the fear and soul-deep despair out of her system, before she wiped her eyes and then turned over to bury her face in her pillow for the rest of the minute.
Sarah finally pushed herself to sit up, throwing her covers off of her altogether. She was covered in sweat. Just like she'd been the first time. Once she'd actually fallen asleep in her own bed after meeting with Casey, her brain had betrayed her, sending her through an endless maze to get across the street to where Chuck's life hung in the balance. And just before she could reach him through the maze, the shot rang out and she watched him hit the ground. She'd woken up screaming his name.
But this one felt worse. It felt so much worse because it was so real. She'd woken up before she reached him after the first nightmare. This time she'd held him, she'd watched him die. She'd felt it rip her chest open and decimate her heart. Her soul had left her body. He'd died in her arms.
"Fuck," she breathed, pushing her hands through her hair. She was still scared. Terrified even. Sure, it was a nightmare, but the realism of it sincerely wrecked her peace of mind. There was no maze this time. It was a broken heel, her gun flying out of her grip… Besides that it was just like it'd happened in real life, only there was no police officer a few paces away taking the suspect out before he got Chuck. It was just her. She'd been the only thing between Chuck and death. And she'd failed.
A shiver wracked her body as she got up and went to her dresser, pulling a clean, dry T-shirt out of it and changing, tossing her camisole she'd gone to sleep with in her hamper. She changed her pajama shorts too.
She realized as she shuffled back to her bed that she'd unconsciously grabbed a T-shirt Chuck had left at her apartment when she'd first moved in here. He'd never asked for it back and she'd never offered. She had a few of his shirts folded in her dresser for the same reason.
It felt especially necessary to be wearing his shirt at this moment, though, she decided, crawling back onto her bed and sitting back against her headboard.
And as she took another deep breath to try to settle her nerves—unsuccessfully—she wondered if she wouldn't trade the fact that Casey hadn't tossed her out on her ear for being able to sleep soundly without seeing her boyfriend shot to death in her nightmares.
The LAPD detective had been more understanding than she'd expected. But he had chewed her out. She'd deserved it. If he'd put two and two together and guessed that she had a police scanner and that was how she knew to go to the scene, he hadn't shown it. But he did tell her to "keep a damn leash on your pet idiot for fuck's sake". She had that one coming. So did Chuck.
Two nights had passed since the incident, and both nights had been full of nightmares. She supposed she had that coming, too.
God, but she really was still incredibly rattled by this nightmare. She checked her clock and saw it was after two in the morning. Was she really this weak that she was thinking about doing this? He'd be fast asleep by now, even as late as she knew he went to sleep some nights, the freaking vampire nerd that he was.
It was just that she felt so raw. She was just as shaken up as she'd been that first night when she took him back to his place after he was almost shot. She'd had his blood on her hands. She was holding as much of it in as she could. It had felt so real. And the fear in those brown eyes that were one of the first things about him that had drawn her in so thoroughly. She could still see that fear now. That fear people always had in their eyes when they knew they were going to die.
She'd seen that fear a few times in her life now. It never got easier to stomach.
"Fuck," she snapped this time, a little louder, and she rolled over to grab her phone. She pulled him up in record time and hit CALL, bringing her phone up to her ear and holding it there. It was too late to change her mind. Maybe she was weak. She decided she didn't care at that moment, hearing his phone ringing and ringing and ringing.
She didn't care.
XOXOXOXOXOXOXOXO
The ringing was distant at first, and it had taken him a while to realize what it was. Probably because he'd been sleeping so heavily. And he groaned, blinking his eyes open in the dark. "Whyyy?" he whined, rolling over and giving his phone a grumpy, tired look. He glanced at his clock and groaned again, even as he finally grabbed his phone to answer it.
God, it was two-thirty.
"Mm," he mumbled into the phone, letting his head fall back into the pillow and shutting his eyes again. Maybe he could sleep and talk to this rude person both at the same time.
"Chuck. God, I'm so sorry. You were sleeping, I know, I'm sorry."
Sarah. Even as tired as he was, he didn't feel all that annoyed or miffed by this interruption to his sleep all of a sudden. "Oh, iz you," he muttered. "Hi. You know what time it is, right? Iz sleeping time."
"Yeah," she said quietly. That wasn't the giggle he was expecting. There wasn't even any amusement in her voice. And then the less foggy part of his brain reminded him that she was calling him at two-thirty in the morning. That wasn't exactly typical for a woman he knew took sleep very seriously.
Before he could say anything, she continued. "I'm sorry I called so late. I'm just…I'm being silly. I shouldn't have called."
He frowned. "Somethin' wrong? Anything happen? R'you okay?"
Chuck pushed himself up then so that he was leaning on his elbow, much more awake suddenly.
"I'm okay. Nothing happened." She sighed.
"Sarah, what is it?" he asked softly. "Why'd you call? What's up? Talk to me."
She sighed again and her voice sounded very far off suddenly. It worried him. "I'm being ridiculous. I just… God. Please don't judge me."
"I won't. Tell me."
"Haven't really been sleeping all that great. Not since that night." A chill went through him and his frown deepened. "I just woke up with…debilitating terror… A nightmare. I keep seeing that bastard with his gun pointed at you. And no one else is there, none of the LAPD officers, it's just me…and I'm always too late. And this time, the one that woke me up tonight, I-I actually held you when you…" Her voice drifted off, a hitch in her breath that he could hear over the phone.
Died. She didn't have to say it. Chuck sat up and pushed himself back to lean against his headboard. He shivered and took a deep breath.
"Shit. Sarah…"
"I know," she breathed, cutting him off before he could say anything else or try to comfort her. "I got really rattled by it. I was kind of shaking, I guess, and my brain wouldn't let me chill the hell out until I… I don't know. I guess I just needed to hear your voice."
It wasn't possible to describe how that made him feel with the words that existed in his vocabulary. But everything in him felt soft and warm all at once. But there was also a deep ache in his chest. He wanted to hold onto her and never let go again.
He couldn't. He was a handful of miles away in his own bed. So he tried to reassure her instead.
"Sarah…Baby, I'm okay. I promise."
She was quiet for a moment. "I know. It's just that I needed your voice in my ear."
Her voice wasn't so far off this time. It felt warm, even as it was still soft. Like she was embarrassed still, but not as tentative.
"My deep baritone?" he teased, deepening his voice.
This time she did giggle. "Whatever you have to tell yourself, you nerd."
He smirked and sank lower against his headboard, his exhaustion feeling a little more bearable now. Maybe he'd just needed to hear her voice tonight, too, and he hadn't realized it until now.
"I'm sorry your brain is torturing you," he said then. "It isn't fair that we go through shit and then our brains force us to relive it over and over, but with a more horrible outcome every time."
She agreed with a quiet hum. "D'you know… in-in that moment when I brought my gun up, I knew I'd be too late. And you know how people talk about your life flashing before your eyes when you think you're about to die?"
"Yeah…" He had some experience with that now.
"It was like that. But instead, I had these…I dunno, flashes, of my future with you. You know, just…future stuff." He couldn't help being curious about what that future stuff entailed in her own imagination. "And I saw it all…crumbling. Falling apart. Then I heard the shots and he went down instead of you. Chuck, I don't ever want to feel that again."
He furrowed his brow in anguish, his chest hurting at the raw, pained sound of her voice.
"No, I know. I know, Sarah."
She huffed then, and there was a long pause.
"This is what it's going to be, isn't it?" He didn't know what she meant so he waited to respond and she continued anyway. "Our life together is going to have these scary bits we have to get through. People pointing guns at us—or me, at least. I'm hoping you stay the hell out of trouble after this." He was damn well going to try. "We have to find ways to deal with it together. Because we are who we are." He snorted at that and nodded even though she couldn't see him. "And I'm in…a dangerous business. Before you, I didn't have…people I had to worry about. You know, if something happened to me. I do now. And you? You've got a big name, a face that seems to be getting more and more public attention." He made an 'ugh' sound unconsciously and she chuckled. "For better or for worse," she added. "Chuck, this is what our relationship is going to be. We need to prepare ourselves for that or we'll go crazy."
He heard something else in her words that went unsaid, but he knew she was thinking about it. They wouldn't just go crazy; things like that had a way of driving a wedge between people. It wouldn't, because it was them. But it was still worth acknowledging even if just in his own mind.
"Yeah," he said steadily. "You're right. But you know what? I wouldn't trade this for the world. I don't know what lies ahead, if worse is coming at some point. I'm an optimist, so I'd like to think this was the worst and it'll only get better from here on out, but…no matter what's comin', this is so worth all of it. Us. How we are. Everything about us. This. It's worth it."
She was silent for a long time and he was about to ask if they'd gotten cut off, if she was even still on the other end of the line, when she sighed deeply. "You just perfectly verbalized what's in my head right now, Chuck. Further cementing what I already knew, and have known for a while…"
"And what's that?" he asked.
"That while neither of us is perfect—or even anywhere close to it—we're perfect for each other."
Chuck melted down into his mattress and groaned quietly into his phone. "I'm going to remember what you just said, and the way you said it, forever. On cold, lonely nights…when I'm alone at some…conference or something across the country. Mmmm."
She giggled softly. "You better remember it." Then she sighed. "I'm going to let you go back to sleep."
"Are you still feeling rattled?" he asked. "Or are you a little better now?"
"A little better," she said and he could almost see her adorable shy one shoulder shrug in his mind. It made him smile. "I'm sorry I woke you up, baby."
"I'm not," he said easily. "Anytime you need to call me for reassurance or just to feel better, for any reason actually, I'm here. Doesn't matter if it's two in the afternoon or two in the morning. Okay?"
"Okay." He could hear her smiling. "Same goes for you."
He gasped in shock. "What? Sarah 'Needs a strict sleep schedule' Walker is giving me permission to call her in the middle of the night?"
"Shut up," she giggled. "And yes, actually. I am. I would give up just about anything for you, Charles Irving Bartowski, even sleep."
He grinned sleepily and rolled onto his side, letting out a happy little grumble. "Just about?" he asked curiously.
"Not sure I'd give up those martinis you make. Or chocolate."
He let out a chuckle. "That's fair."
Then there was a long pause again.
"Hey, can I come by in the morning if I promise to bring you one of those too-big-for-any-human-to-finish breakfast burritos from your favorite carniceria?"
There was something in the way she asked him, a need. Like she needed to be with him. A vulnerability to her voice, a rawness. He felt a pang in his chest. Normally he'd play it off like he hadn't noticed, but it felt important not to this time.
"Baby, you can come over here anytime, with or without burritos. Do you need me to go over there right now? I'm asking seriously. I can do that. I will do that. Gladly. I can be there in ten minutes at the most. Just tell me honestly if you need it. Or even if you just…want it."
She was considering it. He heard it in the blatant pause. But then, "No. No, no. It's okay. Just go back to sleep, Chuck. Thank you. I'll head over in the morning."
"Are you sure? I'm getting out of bed now…" he started, scooting to get up. "Just gotta get some pants—"
"No, Chuck. Please don't. Really. I am positive. I'll see you in the morning. I'm okay."
He sighed. "Okay. Fine. If you're sure."
"I am. Goodnight, Chuck. Love you."
"Love you too, Sarah."
When he hung up, he reached over to put his phone back on his nightstand and he frowned in the dark of his bedroom.
He genuinely hadn't considered just how much the other night might have affected Sarah, almost seeing him die the way she had. And now that he knew she was having nightmares, he felt even more like a jackass. She'd been right that first night when she dropped him back off at home. If the assailant had gotten that shot off, Chuck most likely would've been killed, and he would've left Sarah alone. It wasn't about whether or not she could take care of herself. She could. She would. But he tried to put himself in her shoes, imagining her being in that spot instead of him, watching someone point a gun at her…
Even the potential of losing her left him feeling almost debilitated.
Chuck grabbed his phone one more time because he now understood why she'd needed to call and hear his voice. He needed to see one last sign of life from her before he tried to get back to sleep, so he texted, "Make sure it's carne asada and eggs, not the carnitas. Extra salsa."
"What u think I am, some rube? I would never show up at your door with anything else. Come on."
Her response was immediate, which meant she was still lying in bed, awake, the phone clutched in her hand. Probably afraid to go to sleep. Or at least, her nightmare had scared any amount of tiredness from her system.
He smiled and typed back. "Im sorry I doubted you." He sent it and almost put his phone back, when a thought occurred to him. "Oh and tell Horacio Im sending his daughter a few things thatll help her w/ math."
"Thats cute," she responded. There was a pause as she typed something else. "Youre cute. But u need to go to bed now. Sleep."
He sent a gif of someone saluting and put his phone away, slumping back in bed and staring at the ceiling, thoughts swimming through his head for a good hour before he finally fell asleep again.
XOXOXOXOXOXOXO
Sarah woke up to a tickling sensation right where her jaw met her ear. It felt nice, gentle… And as she hummed and squirmed in the sheets, she let herself just enjoy what she eventually realized were lips dotting down her neck and back up again to the spot just behind her ear.
Smiling, she blinked her eyes open and looked up at her boyfriend who was leaning over his bed, his palms braced on the mattress on either side of her, his handsome features permeating warmth and genuine affection as he watched her wake up.
"I was having a nap. What gives?" she grumbled good-naturedly, rolling onto her back and narrowing her eyes up at him as he hovered over her.
"Morgan's gonna be here in a half hour to test out his calamari recipe on me and we're gonna play video games. I thought you'd want some cushion wake-up time before he gets here, since the last time he was coming over, I let you sleep and you freaked the hell out when you walked down into the living room and found him there while you were all deliciously tousled and rumpled." He leaned down and pecked her lips.
Sarah giggled. "It wasn't the half-asleep thing that bothered me, Chuck, it was the fact that I was only in my underwear and a camisole top because I had no idea anyone besides my boyfriend was in the place. I feel like it was an appropriate reaction."
"I think Morgan had a minor aneurism."
She glared, unable to keep the amusement from her face. "That was your fault."
"It was. I take responsibility. But that's why I am waking you up now to tell you he'll be here at…" He checked his watch. "Five-thirty."
"Thank you," she drawled, reaching up to stroke her hand along his jaw and to the back of his neck.
She'd fallen asleep on the couch while they were watching TV after a big pasta-heavy lunch, and that had been after those massive breakfast burritos chalk full of eggs and meat. It had been a real live food coma, so Chuck had teasingly made her climb onto his back and he'd carried her all the way up to his bed for a proper nap.
The truth was, she really hadn't gotten to sleep after she'd called him. As much as talking to him had made her feel better, while her body and eyes begged for sleep, her brain ran rampant the rest of the night and into the morning.
"And thank you for letting me sleep as long as you did. You took today off so that we could spend it together and I promptly fell asleep." She winced, stroking her thumb over his cheek lovingly.
"Carbs always knock you out." She laughed and swatted the back of his head as he wrinkled his nose teasingly. "No, I'm glad you got a good hour long nap because it gave me a chance to get some muscle work goin'," he said, bringing his arm up and flexing. She only just realized he had a loose sleeveless exercise shirt on and some basketball shorts.
"Ooo, and unprompted by your brother-in-law, too. I'm impressed, Tech Guy." She slid her hands up and down his biceps and then squeezed, biting her lip. She giggled at the flat look he gave her, and with a good long nap under her belt, she felt refreshed, energized…and the plague of those nightmares had slipped to the back of her mind.
"Time well-spent, I think. Gotta pump up these guns to keep up with my bad ass law-woman of a girlfriend."
"Oh, shut up," she laughed. "You know I don't mind your wimpy arms."
She laughed harder as his jaw fell open and he dove in to nibble at her neck. He felt a little stubbly from the morning because he'd neglected to shave since he wasn't going to work. It scratched at her skin a little, but it wasn't unpleasant in the least.
He finally pushed himself up to hover over her again and grinned. "Okay, well, Morgan's comin' so I'm going to take a shower."
"Oh, so you're showering for him but not me," she teased, making a face.
"Um. Yes."
That made her crack up and he grinned with his tongue between his teeth. But before he could pull away and head to his shower, she held fast to his wrist and pulled him back hard enough that he staggered onto the bed, having to catch himself with his knees against the mattress on either side of her to keep from crushing her, his eyes wide.
She ran her hands up his thighs, tucking them under the basketball shorts, and squeezed with an extra sparkle in her eyes as she met his gaze. The memory and sensations of Chuck trying to pin her to her desk in her P.I. office was suddenly so fresh in her mind, and she realized it had been almost a week since they'd even had sex. How in the hell had that even happened?
Her body was fully awake now, and she gave him a look he wouldn't misinterpret, before she sat up and pressed her lips to his shoulder, running them up his neck to his jaw, then switching to the other shoulder. She took one of his hands, lifted it from where he braced it against the mattress by her hip and slid it up under her shirt.
She didn't stop until his hand blanketed one of her breasts, and she sighed, pressing a kiss to his mouth. He responded eagerly, squeezing her breast, but before things could really heat up, he pulled back from her kiss with a smack and a gasp. "Wait, Morgan's coming. He's gonna…he's gonna be here soon."
"Soon-ish. You said five-thirty. We have…" She turned to look at his clock and saw it was ten after five. "Twenty-seven minutes."
"God, you're so gorgeous and bad ass but your math skills need some work, baby," he chuckled.
"Excuse me, I know for a fact that Morgan says a time and shows up five to seven minutes late. Like clockwork."
Chuck blinked at her, then groaned, melting against her and kissing her hard, his hand that wasn't under her shirt lifting to cup her face and pull her in closer. He pulled back again though and she rolled her eyes in impatience. "S-Sorry, it's just… It doesn't seem like enough time, ya know?"
"Excuse me? Have you met me?" She raised her eyebrows and pulled her chin back. He didn't seem to know how to respond to that for a moment. "Watch me work," she snapped, aware of the fact that he'd said something that sounded almost like a challenge, and she was a sucker for a good challenge.
She pushed him off of her so that he rolled onto his back, slamming hard into the mattress, and she swung a leg over him to straddle him, looking down.
Chuck just beamed at her, and before he could say anything, she dove in to kiss him, already going for his shorts with skilled hands.
XOXOXOXOXOXOXO
She'd come to recognize Morgan's quirky knock over the last year or so. It was a quick staccato, and then a dull thunk of his palm slapping against the door. At least she hoped it was his hand. She supposed it might be his head or something. She'd never actually seen him knocking; she'd only ever heard it.
Shaking her head at the image of Morgan letting his head thunk against the door, she got up from where she'd sat on the couch to answer the door for him. She opened it and was immediately greeted by his ecstatic bearded face. He thrust his hands out to the side and gave her an almost Muppet-like grin.
"Sarah!"
"Morgannn!"
Giggling, she accepted his hug and put her hand on his head. "Did you cut your hair?"
"Mm. Yes. I had to switch barbers. Joe started cutting the beard back too much, and I told him three times to go easy with the shears." He rubbed his beard as Sarah shut the door behind him. "Guy just wasn't listening. So I said goodbye. And I said hello to Raoul."
"Raoul did well, I'd say."
"Thank you!" He preened, tugging shyly at the hem of his SEGA T-shirt. "Chuck somewhere?"
"Oh he, um, he's taking a shower." She bit back a smirk. He'd definitely only just gotten into the shower thanks to her.
"Oh! Cool." He went into one of the thirty-seven or so pockets of his cargo shorts. "Oh, hey. I gotcha somethin'! I figured on you being here. Actually, I was hopin' because two mouths are better than one…unless we're talkin' about a mind flayer, because then we'd be dealin' with eight tentacles instead of four and nobody wants that."
Sarah had no idea what he was saying, but she'd learned eventually to stop asking. She typically tended to just answer the way she imagined he wanted her to answer so that he got to his point. "That's true!" she chirped.
"It is. Here." He pulled his hand out of his pocket. "Close your eyes and gimme your hand."
She gave him a nervous look, then lowered her gaze to his closed fist. "I don't…want to close my eyes."
"Why not?" he asked, pouting.
"Because the last time you told me to close my eyes, you put a live sea anemone in my hand."
He cackled and she gave him a look. He smothered the laugh with his empty hand, clearing his throat. "Yeah. Sorry. The shriek was…pretty funny though."
"Not as funny as your shriek when I went after you."
He sobered up. "That's fair." Then he gestured to her hand. "Come on. It's not an anemone. If it was, I wouldn't have been able to hold it like this for so long without getting grossed out."
"I'm not so sure about that. You're kind of a weirdo, Morgan."
"That's also fair. Come on!"
She sighed, then winced, shutting her eyes and holding her hand out. She swore in that moment, if he put another slimy sea thing in her hand, she would end up spending the rest of her life apologizing to Chuck from behind bars for murdering his best friend.
But the thing wasn't slimy or wet. It was smooth and hard.
"Okay, you can look!"
She opened her eyes and glanced down at her hand. Sitting in her palm was a shiny brass badge that looked straight out of some old movie about the Wild West. It was a star with six points and ball-tips, and it was big enough to take up her whole palm. The thing that stood out the most to her was the writing that was etched onto it. "Walker," it said, and beneath that, "P.I."
"What d'ya think? I saw that at an antique shop and right next door there was a guy who did modifications on jewelry and crap like that, so I just had that etched into it. It was cheap, don't worry. I don't buy stuff that's over ten bucks." He stuck his hands into his pockets and smiled.
Sarah just stared down at it. It was a silly novelty. And then it was also the cutest fucking thing she'd ever seen in her life. He'd gone out of his way to have someone put her name into it. Like she was some Wild West sheriff or something.
Before he could think she was ungrateful or thought it was ridiculous, she closed the distance and hugged him tight, clutching the badge in her closed fist. "This is very sweet, Morgan. Thank you."
He pat her back a few times. "Oh, hey. No worries. You eat at my restaurant so often you're keeping us in business single-handedly," he chuckled when they pulled back. "And you refuse the friend of the owner discount."
"It's only five percent," she laughed.
"Well, you refuse it. That's the important part." He gave her a half-glare.
"Anyway, that place is always packed when I go, so spare me the single-handedly thing. You were just being really nice and thoughtful." She wiggled the badge at him. "I hope you don't think I can wear this while I'm working, though," she winced.
"No, no." He laughed. "That'd be awesome if you could, but you'd look like a cartoon character and no one would take you seriously."
"It's probably not legal, either, if I'm being honest," she said, looking down at it and turning it over. "I'm allowed a gun but not an official badge or anything. I'm not a government employee." He shrugged and nodded. "But I'll definitely be putting this up somewhere in my office." He brightened at that.
Where, she had no idea. But she'd figure it out.
"It caught my eye in the shop and I had to have it. It looks like the exact same type of badge that's on the intro screen for Apache Adventure Bot. The second Chuck sees it, he's gonna freak. Full disclosure, that's part of the reason I got it. To see his reaction."
Sarah giggled a little, then frowned as his words settled in her brain. "Wait. Apache what? What's this?" she asked, shaking her head. "Why's that sound familiar?"
"What? Apache Adventure Bot…" She gave him a blank look. "What!? Sarah!" She shrugged. He shook his head in disappointment and grabbed her arm, leading her through the condo and into the hallway that led to the guest bathroom and laundry facilities. They stopped and he smacked a framed poster on the wall. "Bam!" he exclaimed as she looked up at it.
"Oh, right. This poster. Apache Adventure Bot. I knew I'd heard that somewhere. I used to walk past it every time I needed to do my laundry and never knew what it was. What is it?" she asked, turning to look at Morgan.
His jaw was on the floor. "He never told you about this game?"
"Oh, it's a game. That makes sense. I thought it was one of those B-movie scifi things he always tries to make me watch. The whole robot in a desert landscape thing," she said, pointing to the rolling sand dunes and mountains and the one lone tumbleweed in the foreground.
"It isn't just a game, Sarah. It is the game. It's the one that got away." She snorted at that but he looked even more serious and held up a hand. "Don't snort at this, Sarah. It's nothing to snort about." Really? "Chuck has coveted this one game since we were kids. By the time he was old enough to buy it for himself, it was gone. Practically wiped off the face of the earth. There aren't many copies left."
She made a face. "You're making it sound like those silent movies that were melted to make boot soles for World War I. It's just a video game. What do you mean it was wiped off the face of the Earth?"
"It's a conspiracy. A rival gaming company made a poor substitute for it when they realized how good it was, and the creator of Apache Adventure Bot was sued for some drummed up bullshit thing. He won the suit but wasn't awarded any damages and A2 Games was forced to go bankrupt. Copies of Apache Adventure Bot just…stopped being sold. And any of the copies that were still out there on resale sites went away." Morgan looked at the poster and stroked it reverently. "She's lost to history."
Sarah gaped. It was a lot. A conspiracy about a video game…? "Was it…that good?"
He scoffed. "Was it that good, she asks. Only the best game ever made. Greed destroyed her. Greed," he growled, narrowing his eyes.
"I'm…sorry." But something was triggered in her mind by all of this, and she looked up at the poster again. "You said Chuck…wants this game?"
"Yeah. He's been trying to get a copy for years. The guy's crazy loaded now and can't even manage to find it." He shook his head. "He'd probably pay down payment of a house levels of money for a copy if he could find one."
Sarah nibbled on her lip and then put a hand on his shoulder. "Hey, listen. I know you and Chuck share everything, but could you do me a favor and not tell him we had this conversation, Morgs?"
"Uh…I guess so. I don't see why not." He blinked. "Why—Ooooohhhh." His eyes widened and she smirked. "Are you gonna—? Sarah, I warn you. He's been at this for years and no cigar. This could be a dead end."
She just shrugged. "Yeah, well… He isn't a private investigator, is he?" She held her new badge up to her chest and winked. And then she turned back towards the living room and slung an arm over his shoulders, walking him back down the hallway.
"Not that I didn't before, but I get it. I get why my guy loses his mind over you, Sarah. I get why he fell so hard."
They emerged into the living room again and she heard Chuck's voice from the top of the staircase that led into his bedroom. "And why's that?" he asked.
They both spun to look up at him and she felt a smile pull at her lips automatically.
"Oh hey look! It's Miss America. Careful with your dress on those stairs. Graceful, concentrated steps," Morgan teased. Chuck gave him a look she thought they both recognized. His 'Answer the question' look. Morgan cleared his throat before she could answer, though.
"This!" he exclaimed, grabbing the badge from her and holding it up to her chest. She snatched it from him with a warning look as his hand had accidentally ended up way too close to her breast. "Uh, 'scuse me. She looks really good with this badge on. Super cool. She's a super cool P.I. and I totally get why you fell so hard. Super cool, hot, bad ass…"
"I think that's enough probably, Morgan, thank you," she muttered under her breath to him.
"Right. Ahem."
Sarah held out the badge towards Chuck as he hopped down the last two steps and closed the distance, a curious look on his face. But said face immediately lit up as he saw the badge in her hand.
"Oh my God! It has your name! Where'd you find a Walker, P.I. badge, Morgan?"
"I found the badge and it reminded me of my friend here, so I went and had her name etched into it," the bearded one answered proudly.
"Buddy! Damn. This is so nice." And Chuck hugged his best friend tightly, thumping him on the back.
"Oh, sure. Just a cheap li'l thing." He shrugged as they pulled back from the hug.
Chuck stood in front of Sarah then and narrowed his eyes thoughtfully, holding the badge up to her chest for himself. She didn't move his hand away. He'd earned his right to have it there. She even liked it there. "Yeah, okay. Old West sheriff's badge is seriously hot on you, Sarah."
"You could say it was as much a gift for you as it was for her," Morgan drawled, grinning toothily. They both shot him a glare though and he cleared his throat. "I mean, what? That's…Nope." He paled.
But she could see on Chuck's face that Morgan wasn't exactly wrong, as he turned back to her and raised his brown gaze to her blue one.
He cleared his throat and turned back to his friend then, thrusting his arms out in question. "Hey, where's my calamari, dude? You promised calamari."
"I did do that. Guess I forgot." He shrugged. And then he laughed at Chuck's face. "Just kidding. Got ya for a sec, though. Bao is on his way up here right now with all the fixings I'm gonna need. I figured your poorly equipped kitchen wouldn't cut it." He sent Chuck a disappointed look and tsked.
"Buddy, I'm not a chef."
"Hm. The way he keeps his kitchen, it's pretty obvious," Morgan shot towards her, the disappointed look still on his face. It made her giggle.
There was a knock on the door then.
"Ah! That'll be the squid! Well. Bao carrying the squid. The squid didn't walk itself up here. That'd be nuts, huh? Ha ha!" He skipped away to Chuck's door.
Before she could make to follow him and help in case his employee's arms were too full, Chuck held her back and slid the badge back into her grip slowly, slyly. He leaned in and she felt his lips brush against her ear. "We're keeping this for later, though, right?" She turned to shoot him a surprised, wide-eyed look. "Maybe you can do that Texas accent you're so good at. Don't answer now we can talk about it later okay bye!"
And he dashed off for the door, leaving her gaping after him, her badge clutched between her fingers.
XOXOXOXOXOXOXOXO
A/N: Oh that's right, Apache Adventure Bot is freaking BACK! Muahahahahahahahaha! Hold onto your butts. Thanks for reading and please please please review!
-SC