Chuck fic: Caught (PG)
Oct. 23rd, 2007 08:17 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
toxic_cornTitle: Caught
Rating: PG
Pairing: Chuck/Sarah-ish.
Disclaimer: Chuck belongs to NBC, nothing is mine.
Summary: Ready for a "date," Sarah finds something she wasn't expecting...
Notes: Because![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
literarylemming wanted fluff and I suddenly got bit by a plot bunny!
Sarah knocked on the Bartowskis' door and waited to be let in. She and Chuck had a "date" tonight; the story for Ellie and Morgan was that they were going to a restaurant to celebrate their one month anniversary. In reality, they were going to stake out a European crime lord's hotel. She felt a small twinge at the thought of going to the restaurant with Chuck and all the fettucine alfredo she would not be consuming, but she pushed the disappointment aside. She had a job to do.
Speaking of which, Chuck should've answered the door by now. Glancing around the courtyard and finding it clear, Sarah opened the door a crack and peered in. "Hello?"
Sounds of a struggle. "Sarah?!" Chuck called, sounding distressed.
On full alert, Sarah slipped her tiny pistol out of her evening bag and dashed down the hall as fast as she could in her tiny heels and tight red dress. It was strange how easy it was to do; the trick was not to think about it.
Kicking the door open revealed Chuck and Morgan, hastily folding up a plastic sheet. They both froze at her enterance and she quickly hid the gun behind her back.
"Hey, Sarah," Chuck said breathlessly and shoved the sheet into Morgan's arms, pushing his friend towards the closet. Being Morgan, he couldn't keep his feet and toppled to the ground.
"What's going on?" Sarah asked, brow furrowed.
"Nothing!" Chuck picked up a dress shirt from the bed and started buttoning it up over his slightly damp t-shirt. "Just... gimmie a second; I'll be ready."
As Morgan struggled to his feet, Sarah knelt down to look at the plastic sheet. "Is this... is this Dance Dance Revolution?"
She smiled at the embarrassed look on Chuck's face. He was so cute sometimes; she knew he was a nerd and yet he still tried to hide some of it from her.
"The home version," Morgan clarified. "We were in the middle of a tournament. And I was owning your boyfriend's ass. Only, you know... not... like, really owning it in a possessive way. It's still totally your ass and you can do whatever you want with it. I mean! Whatever Chuck wants you to do with it. That's... something that should be worked out between you two." He nodded, looking slightly appalled at his little speech. "I should really go."
"See ya, man," Chuck said, shrugging on his suit jacket.
"No, wait." Sarah looked between the two of them. "I hate to interrupt a tournament. Maybe we can work something out?"
Chuck and Morgan exchanged a suspicious yet intrigued look.
~*~
Casey grumbled his whole way to the Bartowski door and knocked perfunctorily before letting himself in. "What the hell is taking so-" He stopped at the sight before him.
Chuck and Sarah had frozen on what looked like a Twister mat, legs up in mid-air as cartoon figures on the tv screen danced next to arrows. Morgan had been hopping on the couch but came to a slow, bouncing halt.
"Walker," he said, looking down at a pair of Ellie Bartowski's running shoes she'd borrowed for the game, "those shoes really don't go with that dress."
THE END
Rating: PG
Pairing: Chuck/Sarah-ish.
Disclaimer: Chuck belongs to NBC, nothing is mine.
Summary: Ready for a "date," Sarah finds something she wasn't expecting...
Notes: Because
literarylemming wanted fluff and I suddenly got bit by a plot bunny!Sarah knocked on the Bartowskis' door and waited to be let in. She and Chuck had a "date" tonight; the story for Ellie and Morgan was that they were going to a restaurant to celebrate their one month anniversary. In reality, they were going to stake out a European crime lord's hotel. She felt a small twinge at the thought of going to the restaurant with Chuck and all the fettucine alfredo she would not be consuming, but she pushed the disappointment aside. She had a job to do.
Speaking of which, Chuck should've answered the door by now. Glancing around the courtyard and finding it clear, Sarah opened the door a crack and peered in. "Hello?"
Sounds of a struggle. "Sarah?!" Chuck called, sounding distressed.
On full alert, Sarah slipped her tiny pistol out of her evening bag and dashed down the hall as fast as she could in her tiny heels and tight red dress. It was strange how easy it was to do; the trick was not to think about it.
Kicking the door open revealed Chuck and Morgan, hastily folding up a plastic sheet. They both froze at her enterance and she quickly hid the gun behind her back.
"Hey, Sarah," Chuck said breathlessly and shoved the sheet into Morgan's arms, pushing his friend towards the closet. Being Morgan, he couldn't keep his feet and toppled to the ground.
"What's going on?" Sarah asked, brow furrowed.
"Nothing!" Chuck picked up a dress shirt from the bed and started buttoning it up over his slightly damp t-shirt. "Just... gimmie a second; I'll be ready."
As Morgan struggled to his feet, Sarah knelt down to look at the plastic sheet. "Is this... is this Dance Dance Revolution?"
She smiled at the embarrassed look on Chuck's face. He was so cute sometimes; she knew he was a nerd and yet he still tried to hide some of it from her.
"The home version," Morgan clarified. "We were in the middle of a tournament. And I was owning your boyfriend's ass. Only, you know... not... like, really owning it in a possessive way. It's still totally your ass and you can do whatever you want with it. I mean! Whatever Chuck wants you to do with it. That's... something that should be worked out between you two." He nodded, looking slightly appalled at his little speech. "I should really go."
"See ya, man," Chuck said, shrugging on his suit jacket.
"No, wait." Sarah looked between the two of them. "I hate to interrupt a tournament. Maybe we can work something out?"
Chuck and Morgan exchanged a suspicious yet intrigued look.
Casey grumbled his whole way to the Bartowski door and knocked perfunctorily before letting himself in. "What the hell is taking so-" He stopped at the sight before him.
Chuck and Sarah had frozen on what looked like a Twister mat, legs up in mid-air as cartoon figures on the tv screen danced next to arrows. Morgan had been hopping on the couch but came to a slow, bouncing halt.
"Walker," he said, looking down at a pair of Ellie Bartowski's running shoes she'd borrowed for the game, "those shoes really don't go with that dress."
![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
no subject
Date: 2007-10-24 03:30 am (UTC)*memories!*
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Date: 2007-10-24 03:34 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2007-10-24 03:36 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2007-10-24 03:43 am (UTC)... I could see him playing Guitar Hero, though.
no subject
Date: 2007-10-24 03:47 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2007-10-24 03:51 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2007-10-24 05:00 am (UTC)I think that you need to write more Chuck fics, if the muse strikes you that is.
I totally need a Chuck icon now.
no subject
Date: 2007-10-24 05:19 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2007-10-24 04:19 pm (UTC)Morgan's whole speach about Chuck's ass will be going into my quote book, cuz it's just that perfect. And Casey's line about the shoes and dress--perfect! You have channaled them like you're a medium and they're ghosts!
no subject
Date: 2007-10-24 10:58 pm (UTC)