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: Here's part 2 of the ExoBand arc! Enjoy!

XOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXO

The Detective and the Tech Guy Versus the ExoBand, Part 2

He could feel her gaze on him as he watched the pancakes start to bubble in the pan, and he waited until he was sure she was absolutely looking before he grabbed the pan handle and did an expert flip of two pancakes at once.

Booyah!

Sarah giggled, leaning against the counter, and he turned to look at her, grinning. "Oh hey, didn't see ya there." That was a lie. That was a complete lie. But he didn't feel at all bad about it.

"That's never not going to be impressive."

"I'm a breakfast wiz, baby. You know this. I've got the powah." He made finger guns at her with accompanying peeoom peeoom sounds. She giggled again and sidled up against his shoulder, moving onto her tiptoes to kiss his cheek.

"I thought you'd be gone again by the time I got out of the shower," she said, keeping her hand on the back of his neck and rubbing as she turned to look down at the breakfast he was making. "But you're still in your pajamas and it's almost nine."

"Because I am taking the day off. Adisa is on vacation for a few days so I was like HEY it's almost my b-day, I can take some days off too. I really can only take today. Honestly. I have a shit ton of work, but I just wanted to. I woke up this morning and just…wanted to stay in bed longer. And I wanted to make my girlfriend breakfast. Since you stayed over, I don't want ya goin' home on an empty stomach."

She beamed at him and shook her head. "Good. I'm glad." Then she got a look in her eye. "Actually, I was hoping you'd take your actual birthday off, too. I don't know if that's usually something you do. But if you could do it this time, that'd be awesome." She leaned her chin on his shoulder and gave him her most adorable smile.

Chuck turned off the burners and slowly shifted his weight to face her better, a dubious look on his face. "Whyyyyyy?"

"What's that look for?" she giggled. "I spent your whole last birthday sad because I was in Boston for a case and couldn't be with you. It sucked. And I felt terrible, like the worst girlfriend ever, our unusual circumstances aside."

Chuck frowned and slid an arm around her, pulling her close. "Heeey, I told you then that it wasn't a big deal. Just my birthday. Birthdays are like pfffft. Ya know? After your twenty-first, nothing else is that important. It's just a day."

She smirked up at him. "You're legally allowed to rent a car at twenty-six."

That made him laugh and he kissed her forehead in congratulations for that one. "That was pretty good. I liked that."

"Thank you," she chirped. "And I know birthdays aren't that big of a deal, but I want to spend this one with you. I want to take you somewhere. Somewhere fun. Or, ooooo, I know. Maybe the night before, we can stay in some ritzy hotel with room service and we can do that cheesy role play game they always do in TV shows and movies where they pretend they don't know each other and flirt in the hotel bar." She winked, pressing her body into his. "I'll let you pick me up like it's a one night stand…even slip you my room key. It'll be like we're spies."

Chuck raised his eyebrows at her, and then he couldn't help it. He giggled a little, snorting and covering his face quickly when she gave him a flat look. "Sorry. Sorry sorry. Ahem. I just… Is that…Are you into that?" he asked sincerely. "I mean, I'll totally do it if you're into it. That just doesn't seem like your style, that's all."

"No. I mean, it isn't." She shook her head and looked away. "You know me. All about that…straight forward, no nonsense…stuff."

Oh, wow. He saw right through her. She was practically transparent, a blush starting on her face. He was genuinely surprised. He couldn't let this go. He normally would, but this? No, it was too good, too fascinating.

"Oh my God, you totally are into it, aren't you? You love the idea of role playing as two people who don't know each other meeting in the hotel bar and having a one night stand!" She blushed harder and shoved at his elbow to try to get away from him but he held fast. "You want to meet some smooth dashing guy at the bar and pick him up, then slip him your key and wait for him to come in as you lounge in something all lacy…"

"Shut up."

"And you'll be like, 'Oh. How ever did you get into my suite?' Right?"

"I'm going to kill you in your sleep."

He laughed. "Should I call myself Alastair or something? Can we do it with name tags? Can your name tag say 'Pussy Galore' on it?"

She was clamping both her lips between her teeth to keep from showing her amusement, he could tell, still struggling to get away from him. "Before you even reach your twenty-eighth birthday. Kill. You. In your sleep."

"But if you do that, we won't get to play this game. And now I wanna play this game, Sarah. That sounds like the best birthday ever."

"I hate you."

"And when it's midnight and officially my birthday, you reveal that you're a private detective hired to catch me cheating on my wife. And you caught me but in the process…you fell in love with me…"

"I'm going home." The smile was starting to break out on her face and she was still trying so hard not to.

"But woe is you, you've fallen for a philanderer… And that's when I say, 'My…wife? You must be mistaken. I don't have a wife…' And it turns out to be someone trying to frame me to ruin my multi-billion dollar enterprise with scandal!" He proclaimed with the most melodrama.

"You're going to be eating your own freaking pancakes. By yourself."

"We work together to solve the case—Who's trying to frame Alastair? That's me, I'm Alastair." She gave him a flat look. "And lo and behold, it's the woman who hired you in the first place! She's in love with me and wants me for herself."

Sarah snorted. "This has too many plot holes."

"Well, gimme a break. This is my first time with sexy role playing, okay?"

"I think you'd do better with a simple character role play. This is getting a little too complicated for your cute little brain and wild libido. You're a billionaire tech guy with a thing for comic books and philanthropy…and you tear my clothes off. There. Much easier." She leaned up to kiss the tip of his nose.

He blinked. "Wow. Okay. I build up this whole situation to tease you and you shut me up by being super sweet. And hot at the same time. Well played."

"You aren't really shutting up though, so did I win? Really?" She made a doubtful face and they laughed together.

Chuck leaned in to kiss her on the lips, letting it linger for a good half of a minute, and when he pulled back, he tucked some of her hair behind her ear and smiled. "In all seriousness, that hotel idea sounds really nice. No work, no interruptions. Just us in a super romantic suite. We could eat in bed." He groaned at the prospect and she giggled.

"I like that eating in bed is the first thing you think of," she giggled. "You're so cute. Wherever you want to eat."

"In a hot tub?"

"Except for that. That's gross."

"That's fair. Or…we can eat on the floor at the foot of the bed like we did that morning in Paris when we hatched our historic plan to be together."

"Mmmm…" Her smile lit up the entire kitchen. And she moved up to kiss him slowly. "That hit the spot. You're so sweet." He reveled in the way she buried her fingers in his hair at the back of his head. He'd never get used to how good that felt. "But I'm pretty sure we had to eat on the floor because we probably broke the table in the room."

She said it so matter-of-fact, that it caught him in just the right way, and he threw his head back to cackle.

"God, I love you. Let's freaking do it. Pick a hotel and I'll get us a suite."

"Mmm. No. I'll pick us a hotel and get us a room. Maybe, uh, not a full-on suite, rich boy. A room. You'll survive. And you get to be surprised. It's your birthday." He was going to protest but her finger smashed against his lips. "Yes, I can afford it. I'm cutting you off before you can even insult me by asking," she drawled, giving him a side eye. He winced at that. "What else am I supposed to get you for your birthday, Chuck? You can buy anything you want."

"I don't need anything besides this."

"Awwwww, baby…You're so corny."

"Hey!" She ducked away from him, laughing. And he grabbed a dish towel and made to swat her backside with it. "I was complimenting you!"

"You thought my role play idea was corny and you turn around and give me the 'I don't need anything besides you' line? Wowwww, Chuck. Wow."

She was still laughing as he chased her around the kitchen, trying and failing to get a hold of her.

"So you admit it, Sarah Walker, P.I. You really are into that role play idea…" They were poised on either side of the butcher block. If he lunged fast enough, he could probably catch her by her wrist or arm or something, but this was way too much fun to end it so soon.

"Maybe. Not the shitty plot hole-filled version you gave, though."

"Oh, come on!" he laughed, reaching across but missing her again as she squealed and dashed back from him. "I never said I was any kind of writer."

"Just because you have the hots for my profession."

"Uh…" He held up his finger. "Specifically, I have the hots for you in your profession. It's not like I am lusting after Peter Falk. It's just you, baby."

She snorted. "Why don't we just play it by ear, birthday boy? But I hope you've got a—eeeeep!" He finally lunged fast enough to get his fingers around her forearm and he tugged her in against him, capturing her with an arm around her lower back, pressing his forehead and nose to hers. "Hope you've got a fancy suit, pal," she finished in a giggle.

"Why's that?" he flirted.

"Where we're goin', you're gonna need a fancy suit. That's why." The kiss she gave him left him brain-dead practically. "Now fix me a stack of those homemade pancakes. I'm starving."

He felt her hand give his ass a quick, hard swat and she was gone, already halfway to the table.

Chuck's jaw practically dropped to his feet.

There was no way he'd ever get used to this. And he didn't want to. He definitely didn't want to.

XOXOXOXOXOXOXOXO

Sarah swept her hair back from her face as she giggled at Clara clapping her hands in the direction of the ducks in the pond. "She likes ducks."

"She loves animals in general. She can't get enough of Animal Planet. We try to keep it on whenever she's awake now and she'll just stare at the animals, laughing and smiling. I'm not even being biased when I say she's the cutest kid to ever exist," Ellie said, gently pushing the stroller back and forth to rock her daughter.

"You're being a little biased, maybe, but who the hell cares?" Sarah laughed.

"Fine. I'll give you that point." Ellie looked at her for a long moment then. "Have you figured out what you're going to do to distract Chuck on his birthday?"

"We're doing a hotel the night before, just the two of us…"

"Oooooh," Ellie drawled with a secret grin, not really leaving much room for interpretation. Sarah rolled her eyes at the other woman and smirked. "That sounds really nice. A full night of sleep." Then she laughed and shook her head at herself. "Just to give you a sense of where my priorities are right now. Devon would give you the same response, I'm sure."

"I don't doubt it," Sarah giggled. "But I also don't blame either of you. I'm a total bear if I don't get proper sleep."

Ellie chuckled and peered around at her daughter. "You hear that, Clara? You thought you couldn't love Honorary Auntie Sarah more than you already do, but now you've found out she's a bear!"

Sarah cracked up, rocking back against the bench she was sitting on. "I love you." Then she leaned down and booped Clara's nose gently. "And you."

"Well, what are you doing during the day?" Ellie asked then.

"I've got some ideas. Maybe you can help me figure out what he'd like the most, since you know him better than anyone."

"Uh, you and Morgan give me a run for my money, to be honest."

Sarah laughed. "Morgan, maybe, but not me. I've barely known him for two years and for a good chunk in the beginning, I was trying really hard not to know him as well because I didn't want to slip up with my job."

"How'd that work out for ya?"

"Shut up," she giggled, glaring good-naturedly. "I'm just saying, Chuck and I are really good. This relationship is…Well, it feels like we're only getting stronger as time goes on. But we still…I dunno, we're still learning about each other. You've known Chuck his entire life. Literally."

"I was two rooms away when Mom popped him out. Playing with blocks. Oh, wait, no. I'd just gotten a Barbie PTA mom van thing because they didn't want me to be jealous of the new baby so it was probably that."

Sarah snorted. "Thanks for the visual."

"It's what I'm here for."

"So here are the options I came up with. He loves watching things with people who shoot guns at each other—Star Wars, Die Hard, Star Trek, all that old crime stuff he keeps trying to force-feed me because of my career," she shared an affectionate eye roll with Ellie and they both smirked, "so I thought maybe he'd have fun with laser tag."

Ellie cracked up. "I love how your mind works. Do you know what you're getting yourself into with that?"

"Probably not, no. But he's my guy so I'd do my best to handle that whole situation as best as possible." Ellie snorted. "The other option is a picnic in the park, as long as that rainstorm they keep talking about stays away." She made prayer hands. "And then there's this one, which would require a whole lot of planning, but…hey, it's his birthday so it's worth it…" She winced a little in spite of it. "I come up with a little case he has to solve throughout the day, plant some clues, and hope he gets it by the time we have to head over for his birthday dinner slash actual surprise party."

"Wow, that's…" Ellie paused, eyes wide, searching for the word.

"Overextending myself?"

The brunette snorted. "Maybe."

"Yeah. I think I'd need more time to do that. Maybe Chuck's twenty-ninth would be better suited."

"That does give you a year."

They chuckled together.

"There's always the option of overstaying at the hotel, extending check-out time I mean, and just lounging around all day. I don't want him to feel like we haven't done enough on the day of his actual birthday, though, you know?"

"Sarah." Ellie gave her a flat look. "You're buying him a night with you at a hotel, away from work, his parents, his responsibilities, and then we're throwing him a huge surprise party the night of his actual birthday. Trust me, he isn't gonna feel unloved. Anyway, that's not him. He isn't like that."

Sarah sighed. "Yeah, I know. He's just…" The most important thing in her life? Incredibly special? He was incredibly special. "I want him to feel special. I missed his birthday last year. I mean, I didn't. We talked on the phone, but I wasn't here for it. You know? Like physically." She gave Ellie a play shove when the other woman made a grossed out face, laughing and shaking her head. "I didn't mean that."

"Sure. Sure, you didn't." Ellie giggled and then shrugged. "Well, don't you think the fact that you're actually here in person is enough for him? I think so."

Sarah made a thoughtful face and sighed. "So you're saying I should ask Morgan."

Ellie laughed. "Maybe. But I know what he's gonna say if you ask him."

"Solving the case?"

"Yep. They're peas in a pod, those two. And honestly, I'd pick that option myself and I don't have a weird fixation on detective shows like they do. It sounds fun."

Sarah pursed her lips thoughtfully. "Yeah. But not for me," she giggled. "It's, like…what I do for work all day long."

"Ugh, good point. I wouldn't want to go to work, operate on brains, look at MRIs, and then make an entire day of that for Devon's birthday."

Sarah giggled. "Not really the same thing, but I appreciate the sentiment."

"I'm agreeing with you!" Ellie chuckled.

"I know, I know."

"I didn't help you at all, did I?" Sarah was careful not to answer that. "Well, let me just say that anything you pick to do on his birthday before the party, he's going to love it. He's Chuck. He loves everything except for…I don't know, injustice in the world and that look my mom makes whenever he gushes about you."

Sarah didn't mean to bristle so obviously, but she did. And Ellie absolutely saw it.

She immediately felt the other woman's hand on her arm, squeezing. "Sarah, I'm sorry. That was badly done. I shouldn't have said that, especially not so flippantly."

"No, no." Sarah waved Ellie's apology off. "It's okay."

"It isn't. That wasn't nice. I didn't mean to be…not nice. That's not an excuse, though. My mom is…kind of terrible in some really disappointing ways. As much as I guess I have to love her."

The detective hadn't really wanted to get into this conversation. She'd been having a genuinely nice morning with Ellie and Clara and the ducks in the pond, the greenery of the park, the overcast, cool weather… And now Chuck and Ellie's mom was on the discussion table and that just felt…icky. She was suddenly tired now.

"Yeah." She shrugged. "She's your mom."

"In her defense, I suppose, she's at least a really good grandma. And she doesn't encroach too much on my parenting. And I guess that's more important than her weird thing with Devon." She made a face. "I guess."

"It is."

But Ellie was watching her closely now. She felt like the woman was probably looking through her. She pulled her sweater tighter across her chest and crossed her arms, squinting out at the ducks.

"You two make any headway forming some kind of truce?" she asked finally, and Sarah inwardly groaned. The Bartowskis really had a knack for wanting to talk to death things Sarah'd rather not talk about. "You and my mom, I mean."

Sarah shook her head. "No. Not really. I mean, there's some sort of truce there in that I've let her know both through action and words that I'm sticking around."

"Yeah, she just has to deal with it."

"I have to keep trying where I can." She shrugged. "And also attempting to keep it from bothering me as much as it does." She huffed this time and pushed her hair behind her ear, tucking it out of her face. "It mostly bothers me because it bothers Chuck. And why shouldn't it? His mom and girlfriend really don't get along. At all."

"Hey, this isn't a both sides sort of thing. You've done more than you should have to do to try to offer up an olive branch. And she bats it away at every turn. This is about her, not you." She clenched her jaw and growled in frustration. "It's almost an exact replica of what she did with Devon."

"And how has that gone for him?"

"After all these years and a cute little baby later?" Ellie asked, raising an eyebrow as she gestured to her daughter and then dropped her arm and shook her head. "She hasn't warmed to him. She still has this gross suspicion he wants the Bartowski fortune." They were both silent for a few moments, until Ellie shifted her weight and stopped pushing the stroller back and forth. She rested her chin on the stroller's handle and huffed. "She wasn't like this when we were growing up. I was in med school by the time B.E.C. was doing its thing—you know, in the green instead of the red. Maybe it's just that certain people have something in their DNA. Like, they get a lot of money and this trigger goes off and makes them greedy, suspicious and paranoid that everyone wants to take it from them. And they forget their lives before the money."

Sarah sighed and shrugged. "Not to give her too much of the benefit of the doubt, but don't you think it could be that she remembers too clearly what life was like before the money? Your dad and Chuck have given me some detail about all of that. I mean, I've got a bit of insight into how difficult things were for your family before the corporation made it."

"It was touch and go. A lot of sacrifice." Ellie twisted her lips to the side and nodded slowly.

"Exactly. Maybe she just has this fear of being back in that situation again and it's making her…"

"Pernicious and mean and greedy? Judgmental? Did I say mean? Oh, I did? Well, it bears repeating."

Sarah sniffed in amusement, careful not to agree with those things verbally. As much as she thought bad things about Mary Bartowski, she'd never say them out loud to the woman's children. No matter what they said themselves. It didn't feel right, and she also didn't want to alienate Chuck and Ellie by trash-talking their mom.

"Right from the beginning, I knew you weren't a gold digger or a leech or whatever else Mom's tried to insinuate about you. I just knew. You were too much of a bad ass. And also the way you look at Chuck is pretty transparent. And it was then, too."

"Heyyy, what do you mean by that? 'It was then, too'?" she asked, smiling a little, even glaring, as she leaned towards the brunette.

Ellie scoffed. "Oh, please, Sarah. I met you a handful of times while you were working my dad's case two years ago and Chuck just happened to be in the same area every single time. You two had chemistry even standing in opposite corners of the room from one another." Sarah must've made a doubtful face because Ellie laughed. "Come on. It's absolutely true. Ask Devon. We talked about it after that party you came to. You were there to 'protect' my dad and my brother, but you pretty much made it your business to stare at Chuck through the whole thing."

"I did not." She chuckled, rolling her eyes. "You're completely making that up."

"I'm not. I asked Devon—Something like, 'Hey, is it just me, or does the Pinkerton agent keep looking at my brother like he's a part of the buffet table?'"

Sarah laughed hard, rocking forward. "That's ridiculous."

"I'm a little ridiculous. It's fine." Ellie chuckled and shrugged. When they both sobered up a bit, Sarah felt the other woman's hand on her shoulder again. "Is it okay if I ask you something?"

She nodded, in spite of the frustrated nerves in her. Why did this conversation just keep going on and on?

"I mean, watching how many years Devon's been a part of my life—our elopement and then having Clara and everything—and knowing things haven't really warmed between my mom and Devon as much as he and I would like…" Ellie sighed, starting to rock Clara's stroller as the baby got a little fussy again. "Well, I guess my question is… Are you operating under the hope that my mom's gonna change someday? That things with her will eventually be warm and nice, the way you'd like them to be?"

It was a strange question, a deep one. One Sarah had never spent much time dwelling on. And whatever answer she gave had some…implications… Maybe things she didn't quite want to implicate or put out into the world…at least not just yet.

So she thought hard, and decided to tread carefully.

"I don't really know, Ellie. I want things to be better, but I don't know if they will be. No matter what I do to…prove myself."

"You've more than proven yourself, Sarah. A thousand times over. So has Devon. Doesn't make a lick of difference to good ol' mom."

Sarah sent Ellie a thoughtful look. "Are you trying to tiptoe around saying flat-out that I shouldn't get my hopes up wanting your mom to like me? Or, I guess, at the very least, not to think I'm with Chuck for your family's money?"

"Are you depending on that? I guess that's my real question. Do you need that for…this to work? To feel good about what you have with Chuck?"

That she could answer.

"Nope."

And it seemed that was all she had to say. Ellie beamed and leaned in, wrapping her arms around the younger woman and squeezing hard. "You're the best thing that's happened to this family since Devon Woodcomb thanked me for correcting him in our epidemiology class instead of letting the childish snickers of our classmates bruise his ego."

Sarah blinked rapidly. She wasn't about to cry. Those weren't tears. There was a brisk breeze and it dried out her eyes or something. So she focused on the last part when she pulled out of the hug. "Is that how you met him?"

"Yep. It took me exactly fifty-two hours to get that fine specimen into my bed after that and I'll never not be proud of myself for it."

That made her crack up. "I commend you. It took me a lot of months and I'm not all that proud of myself for it." She snorted. "Considering I was gonna lose my job over Chuck anyway, I could've tapped that ass so much sooner."

Both women were still laughing as they walked away from the pond, Ellie pushing Clara along in front of her.

It was as she said goodbye to Ellie and Clara at their car that she got the phone call from Casey, and instead of going home like she'd been planning to, she went to the station downtown after she got into her car.

When she got there, she found someone else sitting at his desk. The brunette she'd remembered meeting when she first came to the station to meet Casey a little over a month earlier. The woman looked up and smirked. "Can I help you?"

"Sorry, um…is this…still…Detective Casey's…?"

It had to be, though, because his name plate was still there.

DET. CASEY

"Oh, yeah this is his desk. The asshole got himself a nice new chair with our department's money and now I feel entitled to sit in it every so often when he's out of office." She shrugged, fixing her blazer over her purple blouse.

"I see. Well, I'm not going to stop you. Where is he, exactly? I was supposed to meet him here."

"I was getting my tea. Get out of my chair, Detective Rizzo."

The brunette rolled her eyes and slowly climbed out of Casey's chair, keeping her heavy-lidded gaze on him the entire time she walked around him to the other side of his desk. She had a swagger as she moved, as though she'd bagged a lot of cases in her short career and knew she wasn't expendable.

Sarah found she didn't mind it as much as she would if Detective Rizzo were a man.

"Detective Rizzo, this is Sarah Walker. She's a private investigator."

"No shit…?" the woman said as they shook hands. She smirked harder. "A P.I. with a vagina. Takes guts. I respect that."

"Thanks. I get by all right. You know. For having a vagina."

Detective Rizzo raised her eyebrows. "Shit, she told me. See ya around, kid."

She sauntered off to her own desk, leaving Casey and Sarah alone again.

"Don't mind Zondra. She calls everybody kid. When she isn't busy terrifying and intimidating every rookie in this building, and some of the veterans, too." He shivered.

"Hmm. Good for her."

He scoffed at that and shook his head, gesturing for her to sit. "Did you do your homework?"

"I thought I told you I'm not one of your cadets, Detective… No, I didn't do any homework because we're not in class, and you're not my professor."

"Jesus, Walker. Okay." He chuckled and held his hands up in surrender. "Didn't mean to put a bee in your bonnet."

"You didn't. I just…" She grit her teeth. "It's been a day. That's all." She was still smarting over the Mary conversation with Ellie. Admittedly. Though Casey hadn't earned that much trust from her yet. And she doubted he gave a flying fuck about it anyway.

"Well, have you come up with any explanations? Any way the two murders could be connected?"

"Not necessarily. The only way I can think of is these were hired killers. And that it's just a coincidence it was the same time, and in the same way."

"So you don't think they're connected." Casey grunted in frustration. "Damn it. My gut's just…goin' crazy."

"Need some antacids?"

"Shut up," he growled. "Seriously, Walker. I've been doin' this job for decades. A long-ass time. And I know when things are fishy. I feel it in my bones. There's something I'm not seeing yet. Something my squad aren't seeing yet. I did find this case right here, a particular black mark on Van Sant's record." He tossed a file across the desk to land in front of her and she turned it to open, studying the details. "He was wrong."

She raised an eyebrow and lifted her gaze to Casey's. "Wrong? You mean he put someone behind bars who was innocent?"

"Yup."

"Ooo. Shit." She winced, flipping through the pages. "Deborah Will, found guilty of manslaughter on two counts. Sentenced to forty years, oh God. What makes you think she's innocent? If she's been exonerated by evidence, wouldn't the case get dropped? Wouldn't she be released?"

"None of the appeals worked. It was a respected judge who made the ruling, and the jury gave a verdict with not enough evidence of her guilt. It was one of those grisly murders, crime of passion type deal, and the motive was pretty convincing. An affair gone bad."

"Still doesn't answer how she is innocent."

"Solid alibi and, like I said, no evidence. They also found someone else's DNA at the scene of the crime and the judge blocked defense from bringing that information forward. Apparently, all three parties met behind closed doors—the judge, the prosecutor, and defense. Just a mess of things that went against the defendant."

"Why is our legal system shit?" she asked, shaking her head at what she was reading while Casey filled her in.

"That's how it is, and it'll take a couple generations before it'll change." He shook his head. "What we can do is solve these two murders we're dealing with now, and get as much evidence as possible…"

"You mean so we can be sure we've got the right person? Or, I guess…people?"

"Exactly."

"So you think this Deborah Will woman might have a vendetta against Leonard Van Sant because he's how she ended up being behind bars?"

"Can't be her. She's behind bars."

"Think she hired someone?"

"That's what I'm wondering. Her family is in Santa Barbara. Everyone who was related to her, at least. One spouse, a brother, two sisters."

"So you think you'd be able to get the family off the table…"

"That's just it. I don't know. If she could hire a killer, so could any of 'em." He huffed. "And anyway, I don't have any real connections here, definitely nothin' I can bring someone in for, not even to question 'em. This just happens to be one case Van Sant won that was erroneously ruled in his favor." He shook his head. "And this isn't some Grisham novel. I don't think Van Sant would've gotten to the jury. They came forward with a guilty verdict in the case."

Sarah shut the folder and shook her head. "Want me to see if any of those jurors showed up dead?"

Casey gave her a look and she shrugged sheepishly. "I was actually hopin' you could look into Deborah Will. Study the case. See if anything or anyone sticks out. See if anything about Van Sant's case, anything he did, any evidence he presented, is fishy. Use the gut I know you've got."

Sarah nodded. "Do I get to keep this file?" She wiggled it and gave him a hopeful look.

He frowned and took it back. "No. But you can come here for it anytime you need. I'll make sure to get you clearance for the file room." Then he paused and eyed her dubiously. "But just for that file. Hear me?"

She held her right hand up. "Just that one file. Got it. Scout's honor."

"Heh. Right."

She smirked and got up from her seat. "Can I take pictures?" she asked then, taking her phone out of her purse and wiggling it. "Just of people's names, I mean. So I can research."

"No." She pouted at that. "But you can take notes."

Sarah huffed and crossed her arms. "I guess I'll take what I can get. I'll be back tomorrow to take notes. Got a post-it in the meantime?"

"The hell do I need post-its for?" he asked. She gestured to the board that was up on the other side of the room, a few detectives crowded around it and writing, sticking post-its on it. "Oh. Right. Ask Detective Rizzo. I don't use that shit."

Rolling her eyes, she went over to Detective Rizzo's desk and asked her for a post-it. She got a post-it pad handed to her, ignoring the other woman watching her with a smirk as she walked away. She couldn't read Detective Rizzo. Was it respect for a fellow woman in the investigative line of work? Or was that smirk mocking? Sarah didn't know and vowed to push it out of her mind for now.

What she did catch was how neat Rizzo's desk was, and that she had a picture of a terrier of some sort and a picture of her with a man's arms around her. And the inside of her desk where she'd gotten the post-its from had little compartments for each thing. Interesting.

Sarah jotted down a few names, made a bit of a web with some notes, stacked the post-its, and shoved them in her pocket. "Great. See ya tomorrow."

"No, you won't. I'm not here. Just go to archives and give 'em the file number, tell 'em your name. I'll take care of clearance, like I said," Casey muttered, already picking up the phone to do that.

She left with a nod, and as she passed Rizzo's desk, she turned on her heel to face her, walking backwards, and caught her eye. "Thanks, kid," she said, tossing the pad to the other woman. Rizzo caught it out of the air with wide eyes, and the smirk became a grin.

Maybe it was respect.

Good.

XOXOXOXOXOXOXOXO

Her first text the day before his birthday had caught him off-guard. He'd slept alone the night before and woke up to find an early morning reminder she must have snuck into his phone when he wasn't looking. He thought she'd probably done it while he was making their dinner.

The reminder had popped up on his primary screen the moment he picked up his phone to check his notifications, almost as if she'd stuck a digital post-it on his phone's screen. And in big letters it read: DO NOT FORGET. TONIGHT IS THE NIGHT.

He'd chuckled and sent her a cheeky text: Fat chance I'd forget THAT, Detective Walker.

But she hadn't responded, going radio silent for a few hours.

It had been during a small, laid back meeting with a few of the programmers updating him on how B.E.C.'s new antivirus platform was coming along that he'd seen a notification from Sarah pop up on his phone that he'd left on the table in front of him. He'd waited until a transition period between slideshows to pick it up and read it, and he'd nearly fallen out of his chair.

Change of plans, she'd sent. Here's the address of the hotel. I'll meet you at the bar that's towards the back of the lobby. 7 sharp. Wear one of those 3-pc suits if you're nasty. She'd added a winking face at the end.

He'd typed back a frenzied, IF I'M NASTY?

Yeah. You read that right. And it's only the beginning. Radio silence til 7. See you there, nerd.

It had been so hard in that moment to keep his jaw in place. He'd literally had to lean his chin on his palm, elbow on the top of the table, to keep it from falling into his lap.

And he'd been a bit restless through the rest of the meeting, trying to concentrate but failing miserably.

When the meeting finished, he'd gone back to his office. And even though she'd told him radio silence until seven, he hadn't been able to stop himself from texting her again. What exactly are you planning? Are we doing the role play thing?

She hadn't responded and it drove him insane for the rest of the day.

He wasn't sure if he thought she was being cruel or not. Because it was hot, and so freaking dorky, if she was really planning this whole role play thing that he'd semi-teased her about the weekend before when it had come up.

For hours, he'd dwelled on it. And then he'd texted her again: Hey seriously do I need to come up with a backstory? Do I need to build a dossier? Is it ok if I borrow from one of my D&D characters I built in college? He was a blacksmith turned rogue archer. His parents were murdered by an evil dragon hunter named Bob.

She never responded to that one, either.

And after an hour and a half, he texted again. Seriously. Sarah? Evil dragon hunter named Bob didn't even get a response? Come on.

Nothing.

It got to the point where he was legitimately keyed up by the time five rolled around and he decided to leave his office, head home, and…well, he supposed, he needed to get ready. And throw a few things into a duffel for the night.

He had been pretty much settled on what he was going to bring until Sarah's stunt.

Wear one of those 3-pc suits if you're nasty.

Chuck read that text again as he was leaving his office, shaking his head with a soft whistle.

"Oh, hey. Chuck!"

He halted at Adisa's desk, clearing the cobwebs from his brain. "Yeah? Oh, right. I'm not gonna be in tomorrow, or…well, I'm gonna just take a five day weekend. So I'll see ya Tuesday."

"Oh yeah. Monday's a clean slate in your schedule. Sounds good, boss. Necessary. Actually, that was why I stopped ya. I won't be seeing you tomorrow, which is your actual birthday." Chuck wrinkled up his face in a wince. "So I wanted to give you this now."

Adisa went inside of his desk drawer and produced a box, handing it to Chuck. "It's not a big thing. Just a token of my appreciation for the, um, opportunities and the doors you're opening for me. You know."

Chuck grinned. "Heeey, this is really nice. You didn't hafta…"

"No, I know. But I wanted to. Open it!"

Heart-warmed, the tech guy popped the box's lid off and looked inside. "Oh, no way!" He laughed in awe and reached in to pull the gaming headphones out. "No! Way! Where did you even find these? I thought they stopped makin' 'em?"

"Yeah, well. I've got connections." Adisa chuckled. "I know the last time you and Morgan had me over for a gaming sesh, I was making fun of your headphones…"

"I mean, you're right. They're falling apart and have duct tape all over them. But they're seriously the best brand ever and they discontinued that model before I could replace them so… But holy shit! You got me the exact ones, man! This is awesome!"

Adisa shrugged, and the two men stepped in to hug one another. "The least I could do, boss man. I hope you have a good birthday tomorrow."

"Thank you." And the camaraderie between him and Adisa almost made him say that his birthday was definitely getting started tonight, thanks to Sarah Walker, P.I. But he decided instead to at least keep some semblance of professionalism there between them. Also, tonight was for him and Sarah. No one else.

Chuck raced home, taking a fast shower, styling his hair as best he could while it was still damp-ish, and rushing to his closet. He almost just wore a normal suit, no tie. And then he stopped himself and picked up his phone again. Was she serious about the three-piece suit? Would he ruin it if he didn't show up in one? Or was she just flirting and if he actually showed up wearing a three-piece suit, she'd tease him mercilessly?

Chuck bit his lip and grinned a little.

…As if he didn't adore it when Sarah teased him.

Decision made, he donned a dark blue suit, single-breasted. And he shrugged the jacket over his shoulders, straightening it and squinting at the dark grey vest he wore underneath over a white button-up. The vest had a bit of a sheen to it, and with the tie that matched the suit jacket, he felt like it all went together pretty damn well.

He stepped into his brown dress shoes and looked at himself in the mirror one last time.

"You're a God damned gentleman, Charles Bartowski," he murmured to himself in the mirror, smoothing a hand down his lapel and winking.

Grabbing his duffel with sleeping things and a fresh pair of underwear, jeans, a t-shirt, Converse, and a sweatshirt, he rushed out of his condo and down to his car at six-thirty on the dot. And as he plugged the address Sarah had given him into his phone, he realized it was a hotel he'd never been to before.

Had that been on purpose, he wondered? How would she even know which hotels he'd been to? That was silly.

It didn't really matter, and as he got there, he was glad the place wasn't so fancy that they didn't let him park his own car. Chuck rushed into the lobby after he parked, realizing as he glanced at his watch that he was three and a half minutes late. Crap.

She said a bar at the back of the…

There was the bar.

Straightening his suit, feeling a little silly with the duffel bag in his hand that had "Stanford IT" scrawled over it in block letters, he cleared his throat and walked through, heading into the bar.

It was a large, open room with tables and comfortable plush chairs, lit candles on each table, and a fireplace that was raging on the west wall, some cozy couches positioned around it. There was a couple already sitting in one of them, heads tilted together, talking in quiet voices.

Other than that, the place seemed empty.

He breathed out a sigh of relief. Perhaps he'd beaten Sarah here even if he was late.

Sidling up to the bar, he nodded his head politely towards the bartender.

The middle-aged woman immediately made her way down to the end of the bar where he stood and smiled. "Hi, there. What can I get ya tonight?"

"Martini, please. Two if you wouldn't mind."

"Waiting for somebody?" she asked.

"No, I'm just a lush."

She laughed and patted the bar in front of him once. "You got it, my guy."

Chuck found he was already finished with the first one and making headway into the second by the time he felt a presence at his elbow.

It was Sarah. He could feel it without even having to look. And as she stepped up to the bar, he saw her blond hair in his peripheral. He forced himself to keep his gaze on the bar top.

The bartender walked up to greet the newcomer, then. "Good evening."

"Hello," Sarah said smoothly, leaning her elbows on the bar.

"What'll you have, miss?"

"A martini, please," she said. "On second thought, actually, make that six martinis. And line them up right here." She tapped the bar with her finger, bringing it across with a tap, tap, tap, tap, tap, tap.

Chuck couldn't help looking this time. It'd be stranger if he didn't look when she asked for six martinis. The bartender even seemed to be gaping.

"Six?" she asked.

"Yes," Sarah said with a resolute nod. "Six, please."

With wide eyes, the bartender nodded and slowly stepped away, getting martini glasses out from under her bar and setting them on the back counter in a line.

Chuck recovered just enough to actually take Sarah in this time. She was still standing, leaning against the bar, a bit taller than her five feet almost ten inches in the black pumps she wore. But he wasn't focused on the pumps. The midnight blue dress she wore had a certain sheen to it, like it might be silk, or something just as rich and delicious.

It had been quite some time since he'd seen Sarah wear something like this. As much time as they tried to spend together, getting this gussied up and going out for dinner or to some fancy gala or something just hadn't been part of their relationship so far. His father and mother tended to go to fancy shindigs when B.E.C. needed a representative to show up. And the only one of those he had gone to himself in the last three years was when he and Sarah had first started dating and she'd been in another state working a case for Pinkerton.

So it was with great effort that Chuck Bartowski kept his jaw from hitting the floor for the second time today. Where had she even gotten a gown like this? He was absolutely asking his dad if he could go to the next benefit they were invited to, and he was absolutely bringing Sarah. He wasn't usually the type of guy to brag, but he wouldn't mind it if people saw Sarah Walker on his arm. Especially looking like this.

And the way she'd styled a perfect wave into her long blond hair that made her look like one of the femme fatales in the noirs he'd only just started rewatching since he began dating a detective of his own.

He was going to die at some point tonight. She actively came here to murder him with this whole thing, before he even turned twenty-eight.

"Something I can help you with?"

Chuck shook himself and looked straight ahead, then cleared his throat and glanced back at her. She had an unamused, almost icy look in her features as she stared at him.

"Uh, no. Sorry. Six martinis, huh?"

"Yeah, six martinis. Got a problem with that?"

"No. Not at all. In fact, you're making me feel very validated, what with the two I ordered. And finished." He gestured to the two now empty martini glasses in front of him.

"Are you always looking for validation?"

Wow. Wooowwww. Chuck inwardly winced and slow clapped all at once. She was batting one thousand with the biting wit tonight. It was hitting the spot.

He tried to get right back up on his role play horse…as it were. Since apparently that was what was happening here. They were both doing it now. "I don't want to answer that if I'm being honest."

That made her smirk as she finally turned to look right at him, and he saw her really take him in. She made no secret about liking what she was seeing, raising her eyebrow and biting her lip. It made a certain kind of heat spill through him.

Before either of them could continue the conversation, the bartender lined up the six martinis, skillfully. And just like that, she left them alone, as if she had some sort of sixth sense about the two people sharing the bar now.

He just stared down at the counter, not knowing what to say or how to proceed.

XOXOXOXOXOXOXOXO

Chuck seemed as though he was at a loss. She could feel the slight panic emanating off of him and damn it, he was so cute. She had surprised him with all of this, she thought. He'd teased her about the role playing, and it was almost a little embarrassing, if she was honest. But then she'd stiffened her spine a bit and set this whole thing up. She thought he probably hadn't expected her to actually go through with it, and now he was totally unprepared.

But if he'd swept into this situation gracefully and skillfully, it wouldn't be quite as fun, would it? And he wouldn't be the man she'd fallen for.

"DO YOU KNOW AIKIDO?"

Sarah jumped a little at the way he blurted it, interrupting the quiet in the large room. She turned to look at him with wide eyes…and the furrowed brow and pursed lips, the purest what the fuck look she'd ever seen on his face—on anyone's face—suddenly made her laugh. She couldn't even try to play it off or keep a straight face. The amusement of the situation wasn't lost on him as he chewed on the inside of his cheek and shook his head at himself.

She loved him so much.

"Do I know what?" she asked, forcing a straight face. She looked at him like he was crazy.

"Uh, aikido. It's a martial art. Arts. It's…you know, fighting." He cleared his throat and leaned his elbow on the bar, smoldering a little. "Because I do."

"That's, uh…cool." She raised her eyebrows and turned to the martinis, pulling one towards her and taking a long drink. She wasn't helping him at all and she only felt a little bad. She couldn't help it. She wanted to see where he went with all of this.

"Yeah. Pretty cool." Chuck cleared his throat. "I'm actually…here for an aikido conference."

God, he was killing her.

"Do they have those?"

"What?" He blinked.

"Aikido conferences."

Chuck blinked again and finished his second martini. "Oh, they do. Definitely. The aikido masters—like myself—we exchange, uh, secrets of the trade. As it were. Why-why are you here? If you don't mind my asking."

Sarah pursed her lips, half of one martini already gone, and she set it down delicately. "I'm still not certain I know what you're doing here, Two Martinis."

"I, uh, I told you."

"Mhm…this aikido conference. You think I can't see right through that? What are you actually doing here?" She raised an eyebrow. Sarah was already constructing a bit of an idea.

"I'm not sure…what you mean…" He narrowed his eyes. And then he started to lift a finger to summon the bartender back, probably to order a third martini. But she reached out quickly and caught his hand, pulling it back down to the bar. He looked at her in confusion as she then pushed one of her six martinis towards him. "For me?"

She nodded. Then she eyed him steadily, long enough that he squirmed a little, taking a sip of the martini. "What I want to know is how you managed to find me," she said quietly, taking another sip of her own.

"…Find you?"

"This awkward, clumsy act of yours you started off with. The aikido conference thing. Pretty cute, but I didn't fall for it for even a second. It's just bizarre enough that I think it'd work with just about anyone else. Not me." She smirked.

She could almost see the lightbulb go off over his head. He was still in the dark, fumbling most likely.

He leaned both of his elbows on the bar and raised an eyebrow, sipping the martini again. "What makes you think it's an act? Maybe I'm legitimately just an idiot."

They exchanged an amused look, Sarah breaking the game for just a moment, but then she slipped right back into it. "I don't think so. At least, it wouldn't fit with the stories I've heard about you."

"I think you're mistaking me for someone else, perhaps."

"You'd like me to think that, wouldn't you? But the jig is up."

He narrowed his eyes and then smirked. "All right then. The jig is up. So what now?"

"You tell me. You're the one who's been tailing me. But I don't have what you think I have. I should just tell you that right off the bat. I don't like wasting time, you see." She was on her second martini as she subtly inched closer to him, making sure he didn't miss the innuendo.

"I, uh, I see." He took a bigger drink of his martini as she looked up at him through her eyelashes. "What if I told you that you have exactly what I…think you have?"

He was sort of starting to get the hang of it, but she could feel he still hadn't gotten his footing. Granted, this conversation was verging on absurd, and she had no idea where it was going, either. It was so stupid and so fun. And she loved that she could do this with Chuck without even a shred of shame or embarrassment. Or shyness. As ridiculous as this was.

"Do I?' she asked, her tone dripping with flirtation.

"Mmmhm." He took a sip. "It's just a matter of getting it from you."

"And how are you planning on doing that?"

He worked his jaw, squinting down at the martini, twisting his fingers over the stem of the glass. "I…have my ways. Though I'm wondering if I haven't met my match."

"Oh you have," she said, bobbing her eyebrows and smirking as she took a drink. She moved the empty glass out of her way and grabbed another one. "I didn't order six of these because I'm an easy target."

"I'm glad, if we're being honest here. I don't typically enjoy easy targets."

"Enjoy?" She raised an eyebrow at him, running her eyes up and down his form again. "I'm not sure I'm interested in what you do or don't enjoy, Two Martinis." She bit her lip. "Though…speaking of an easy target, it wasn't too hard to get you to drink that martini."

He blanched then, a part of his act, and he looked down at the now empty martini glass. Then back at her. "You slipped poison into it," he breathed, playing aghast.

God, she nearly laughed again. Poison?

How was he even like this?

"No," she assured him with a shake of her head. "It'd be much too simple to drug you. I don't do things the simple way."

"Oh, no?" He leaned in close. "And how do you do…things?" he asked haltingly, affecting a sexy tone of voice. He made a bit of a face at how awkward the last part came out. She had to work to keep a straight face.

"Very carefully."

He broke for a moment, choking a little, having to look away and bring his fist up to cover his lips quivering with the threat of a smile.

Sarah looked down for a moment and composed herself. This wasn't even close to as sexy as she'd been shooting for, maybe. But God, it was so much fun. She was barely halfway through her fourth martini now, and she was feeling a buzz start. And she decided she didn't want to be drunk, so she left the rest of the martini, and the fifth one she'd paid for, sit idly. And instead, she thought she might move this out of the bar.

But Chuck beat her to it, she found.

"As much fun as this is… I'm afraid I came here for a specific reason. You're right. You did see right through me. Maybe I'm just getting rusty…or maybe…just maybe…it's you," he growled in what he was attempting to be a suave voice, squinting his eyes and raising an eyebrow with another smolder.

"Am I making you lose your footing?"

"I'm footless."

She snorted, covering it up by clearing her throat. "Then I did exactly what I aimed to do."

"I had a feeling, and I'm man enough to admit I don't much mind that it's working."

Sarah inwardly laughed at the haughty tone he used, the cheeky grin. He was absolutely terrible at keeping to one character. He swung from stumbling to debonair to…kind of egotistical. She couldn't make heads or tail of the persona he was portraying. And she thought he most likely couldn't either.

She loved it. She didn't understand why; she just did.

He was trying so hard.

"I need…the thing," he was saying, "the thing you have that…I need."

Sarah smoothed a hand down the front of her dress and nodded. And then she gestured towards the bartender who finally hurried over with a polite smile on her face. "Put all of these martinis on room 79D."

"All of them? So…eight martinis?"

"Yes. Eight martinis."

"Of course." The woman flicked her gaze between them and cleared her throat, obviously not quite understanding what in the hell was going on. But she took the glasses away and went to her screen to charge the drinks to the room Sarah got them for the night.

"If you want to find what you came here for, you'll have to do a bit of searching, I think," she said to Chuck then, turning back to him. "I'm not just going to tell you where to find it." And as she strutted away from him, she turned to glance over her shoulder. "Or did I already?"

The confused look under the suave smirk made her genuinely hope he'd been listening when she gave the room number to the bartender. It would be almost too ridiculous if she sat up there in the room for an hour and ended up having to text it to him after all this.

And as she unlocked the door to their room, she heard her phone go off in her clutch. Sighing, she pulled her phone out to look at the text.

Did you say 79B or 79D?

Oh, Chuck.

XOXOXOXOXOXOXOXO

A/N: Hi. I just want everyone to know that I laughed out loud multiple times while writing this chapter. I hope you got some joy out of it, too. More to come as soon as I'm able!

-SC