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yeetingmyfeeling · 4 years

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Express Part 1 (Brian)

I have a feeling this may get taken down, or something of the sort. I warn, this is very, very dark. So head my warning, if you are sensitive to triggering topics, do not read.

Such as: self harm, suicide, child abuse, paedophilia, eating disorders, transphobia, homophobia, abliest.

I let out a jagged breath, my shaking hands carting through my hair, gripping the ends. I swallowed heavily, forcing down a painful sob. Tears cascaded down my face, landing on my thighs with little splats. I sat on the edge of my bed, my toes gripping the carpet beneath my feet. I leaned over and grabbed my phone. One in the morning.

I wiped my arm over my eyes, sniffling loudly. I just needed to calm down, before my dad heard me and yelled at me. He looked around my dark room, finding a box of tissues, I started to wipe at my face. I found a water bottle and took a good few gulps of the cold liquid.

Eventually calming down, I now lay under the covers, having a gentle throbbing in my head and my body. At least I just cried this time. My phone vibrated with a message, so I quickly checked it.

Moo: Hey dude, you up? I really need someone to talk to.

I bit down on my lip, breathing through my nose. I was quick to respond, knowing my friend, my crush, was upset. Around four in the morning, he went to sleep. I stayed up, plagued by my thoughts. At seven, my alarm went off. I went to school, having no choice. Brock didn’t show up.

~~~~~

We were hanging out at Tyler’s house. It was a Saturday, and everyone happened to be free. So Tyler offered, and everyone came. We all squeezed into his living room somehow, and everyone was doing their own things.

Evan, Jonathan, Tyler and David were all playing Mario Kart. Loud shouts and screaming was heard. They took up the couch, all of them leaning forward so they could see the screen better. Marcel and Scotty were sharing an armchair, Marcel half in Scotty’s lap. They were laughing at the four idiots. Antony was leaning over the couch, annoying the gamers. Brock was laughing, trying to get Anthony to stop.

I sat on the floor, almost in the corner. This always happened. I did try, I swear I did. I always tried at the start to join. I was loud, happy, smiling, making funny voices. Then Tyler called me annoying, and said I was too loud. David told me to shut up, saying I wasn’t funny.

No one else stood up for me, most even agreed. Even Brock said I was getting kind of annoying.

I looked at my friends around me, feeling pain build up in my chest and a burning in my throat. I stood up slowly and made my way out, knowing no one noticed. I went to the bathroom and sat on the floor just trying to control my breathing and calm my mind.

I don’t want to be here anymore.

I stood up and made my way out, my chest getting tighter and tighter. I was right, no one noticed me leave. “I’m gonna go guys,” I spoke, just loud enough for them to hear over the yelling. The only response I got was a salute from Brock.

~~~~~

“Ashley!” My dad growled, making me look up in confusion. We were having a normal conversation, why is he suddenly angry?

“Can you do anything right Ashley?” Mum asked in a yell. I looked at her in confusion. “Don’t give me that fucking look!”

I went to say something, but was interrupted by mum again. “Are you talking to that boy again?”

“That boy…?” I asked in confusion. “What are you talking about?”

“That pedo,” Mum explained in a sigh. “Craig.”

I looked down at my lap, tears welling up in my eyes. I hate when they mention him. It was a mistake. I tightened my hands into fists, my bitten off nails digging into my palms.

“Well!?” Mum yelled. I just shook my head. She stepped forward and gripped my shoulder, pushing me back and pinning me against the couch. My eyes widened in fear. “Answer me you fucking disgrace!”

I swallowed and shook my head quickly. I could feel the tears threatening to fall. “N-No mum!” I croaked out. “I don’t talk to him!”

“What about the others?” She asked, still gripping my shoulder. It was starting to hurt.

“No,” I said again, avoiding her eyes. She sighed and pushed away from me. She left the living room, going back to the kitchen to cook.

Dad stood up, coming over to me. He held out his hand. “Phone.”

“Wh-What?”

“Give me your phone, brat!” He yelled, making me flinch. “Then get your computer, and whatever other shit you have. Bring them to me or I’ll fucking break them, then you!”

~~~~~

I sat at the desk, we were in class. It was a test, as the school was going through test week. I sat, staring at my paper. My leg was bouncing, and my hand gripped the pen tightly. It was just a maths test, but my brain couldn’t work anything out.

When I stared at the paper, the words and the numbers would start blurring and mixing together. I had to blink to get everything to go back to their spots, but even then it didn’t make much sense. A headache was starting to build up, one that made my whole head hurt.

I nervously looked around the room, feeling like everyone was staring at me. No one was looking at me, everyone was focusing on their test. I looked over at the teacher just as he looked at me, making me look away quickly.

I breathed out heavily as thoughts swam through my brain. I tried to focus on the words on the page.

If Sally had five oranges, and Tim had seven…

Dumb. Stupid. Not good enough.

Find the value of X in…

Idiot. Retard. Brainless.

If you put these two numbers together…

Useless. Unneeded. Unlovable.

Subtract twenty-six from…

Ugly. Fat. Whore.

It took Amanda eight minutes to get to the train station…

He never loved you. He was a liar. A pedophile.

What is the formula for…

He is going to find you.

What do you get when you…

You are a monster.

I finished my test reasonably quickly, and before anyone else, like I usually do. I raised my hand, and the teacher came over. I gave him my finished paper then left to go to the bathroom. I needed to relax, calm down. To stop thinking about it. Stop thinking about him.

~~~~~

I don’t remember what happened, and I don’t fully recall how I managed it. But here I was.

A sat on my bed, blankets and pillows strewn everywhere. The rest of my room was an even bigger mess. There was trash and dirty clothes laying everywhere. As well as empty, or even half full, cups, bowls and plates. Through the smell in my room, I knew I left something with milk in here. There were papers and school work thrown everywhere, as well as broken objects and cables. A few books lay scattered on the floor as well.

I don’t remember much of the past three weeks. They were all such a blur. All I remember is the gentle hum of my brain working too quickly. All I know now, is I’m on my bed, only in my boxers, and my bodies a mess.

I stood up shakily, my body nearly giving out. I grabbed my phone from it’s current spot on the floor. Four in the morning. I staggered over to my mirror, turning my lamp on along the way. I risked a glance at my body.

My face was pale, with undertones of red and yellow. My eyes bright red, and my cheeks shiny from my tears. I stared at my chest, feeling more tears well up. I averted my eyes to my arms. I had thin, red lines across my upper arms and wrists. Some deep, some shallow. Some red in agitation, some still bleeding. I had the words ‘shut up’ sharpied down my arms. My thighs were worse. There were more cuts, all of those deep, some still bleeding. Words were sharpied from my hips to my knees. Insults, comments, statements.

I sniffled and looked for some sweatpants, only finding a dirty pair. I slipped those on, as well as a clean jumper I found. I climbed into bed and set my phone up to my speaker, playing some soft music. Rolling over. I slowly fell asleep.

~~~~~

I stared down at my dinner, feeling my throat start to burn. It smelt so good, and it looked like it would taste amazing. Yet, just the taste of eating anything made me feel sick. I felt like the second I put a forkful in my mouth, I would instantly start throwing up.

I took a quick glance down at my body and cringed. My thighs were large, taking up so much space. My hips sticking out, and I could see my stomach over my pants. I looked up, seeing my mum look at me.

I swallowed down my insecurities and gave her a smile as I started eating. It was pasta, I love pasta. This tasted like ass, even though I know my mum is an amazing cook. I just couldn’t eat.

I ate half of my dish, soon getting full. My dad gave me an earful for not eating all my food. I put my plate out in the kitchen, then went straight to my room and to my bed.

No notifications. Sounds about right.

I roll over in my bed, staring at the wall. As always, my brain goes back to him.

I wonder how he’s doing, is he alive? Does he still think about me? He moved on pretty quickly. He probably lied to that other guy, like he lied to me and everyone else.

I wonder if he ever did actually kill himself?

I should. I should do it before he finds me, and does to me what he did to his cousin.

Craig made a promise.

Even if he’s a liar, sometimes pathological liars tell the truth.

And a promise is a promise.

#banana bus squad #banana bus crew #vanoss crew #brian hanby #the gaming terroriser #moo snuckle #vanossgaming #i am wildcat #dark #rant

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cinephiled-com · 7 years

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New Post has been published on Cinephiled

New Post has been published on http://www.cinephiled.com/113-joan-crawfords-mommie-dearest-gets-reprieve/

At 113, Joan Crawford's Mommie Dearest Gets a Reprieve

On this day in 1904, Lucille Fay LeSueur (later known as Joan Crawford) was born in San Antonio, Texas. Some sources list the year of her birth as 1904, 1905, or even 1908, but a quick search of the San Antonio census records reveals the truth. By any measure, Crawford was one of the greats in the history of Hollywood.

I recently watched the 1981 film Mommie Dearest for the first time in decades. While Faye Dunaway’s depiction of Crawford over the course of almost 40 years is dead on, it sometimes seems as if she’s using Carol Burnett’s parodies of Joan Crawford as her source material rather than the actress herself. The way Dunaway transforms herself through makeup, hair, costumes and her exquisite acting chops is one degree short of channeling, but her performance is so over-the-top that you have to wonder what the filmmakers were going for. What could have been a truly incisive look at the stresses and psychological issues of a well known figure is instead an exercise in High Camp even though I don’t think that was anyone’s intention at the time, least of all Faye Dunaway’s (who refuses to discuss this film today). I’m not sure director Frank Perry was the right man for the job, and yet he did direct two films that I thought were outstanding depictions of mental disorders: David and Lisa in 1962 and the classic Diary of a Mad Housewife in 1970.

I have long wished for a new look at Joan Crawford on the screen, one that would treat her life and issues more seriously, not as a big punchline. But I never dreamed it would actually happen — I was sure that Faye Dunaway’s larger-than-life depiction was the last time we’d ever see a talented actress donning Crawford’s red lipstick and shoulder pads. I was wrong!

Ryan Murphy’s eight-part series Feud, currently running on FX, details the production of the 1962 Robert Aldrich film, What Ever Happened to Baby Jane? Though we’ve only seen half of the episodes, I have to say that I am deeply moved by the performances of Jessica Lange as Joan Crawford and Susan Sarandon as Bette Davis.

Not everyone in my circle of classic movie-loving friends agrees, but I find Lange and Sarandon’s depictions deeply moving and nuanced. Yes, What Ever Happened to Baby Jane? has itself become a camp classic on par with Mommie Dearest, and this series focuses on the bitter rivalry between the two stars as they grappled with the agonies of being middle-aged in Hollywood (Davis was 54 and Crawford 58 during the making of that film, not old by today’s standards but in Hollywood they were considered ancient relics), but Feud also looks beyond the Hedda Hopper-ish “dirt” to the living and breathing women behind the icons, with all their wisdom, experience, insecurities, and vulnerabilities on full display. I think Sarandon and Lange, themselves 70 and 67, are remarkable in the roles.

Feud also looks at aspects of the questionable parenting of both women, but presents it in a much more compassionate way despite many cringe-producing moments. Davis’s daughter, B.D. Hyman, who would eventually write her own tell-all about her mother, actually had a small role in What Ever Happened to Baby Jane? although it was clear from the start that she did not inherit her mother’s acting ability. Played by the talented Kiernan Shipka (Sally Draper from Mad Men), we see Davis and B.D. struggling through difficult moments in their relationship as mother and daughter as well as fellow actors. In 1962, Crawford’s two older children were out of the picture but we see Crawford interacting with her teenaged twin daughters who would later refute the charges levied by their older sister.

When Christina Crawford’s tell-all book came out a year after her mother’s 1977 death, Old Hollywood divided into two camps: those who thought the book represented the slanderous ravings of a spoiled brat bent on revenge for being written out of her mother’s will; and those who said they had witnessed Crawford’s unstable behavior with her children and were convinced that the book’s shocking claims were true. At the top of the list of Joan’s defenders was her old friend Myrna Loy who had known Crawford since she first arrived in Hollywood in the 1920s and had appeared with daughter Christina in a stage production of Barefoot in the Park. Loy disliked Christina and said that she had behaved horribly during the run of their play. She said that while she never saw Joan hit her daughter, if anyone needed a good slap it was Christina. Yikes.

Helen Hayes, however, another great actress whom Joan had befriended in the 1930s, did not exactly elect Joan Mother of the Year in her autobiography:

Joan was not quite rational in her raising of children. You might say she was strict or stern. But cruel is probably the right word.

When my young son Jim came to stay with me, we would go out to lunch with Joan and her son Christopher. Joan would snap, “Christopher!” whenever he tried to speak. He would bow his little head, completely cowed, and then he’d say, “Mommie dearest, may I speak?” Joan’s children had to say [that] before she allowed them to utter another word. It would have been futile for me or anyone else to protest. Joan would only get angry and probably vent her rage on the kids.

I have read that people who are abused as children often become abusive parents. Maybe it was Joan’s tough childhood that made her exert her power like that over her own children. But understanding the reason did not make their suffering any easier to watch.

Pretty damning stuff, and yet were many who claimed that Christina Crawford exaggerated some of the childhood episodes for dramatic purposes. I admit that certain scenes from the film that so appalled me when I first saw it in the 1980s don’t seem that bad today. At Christmas time and on birthdays, Joan’s fans would send Christina mountains of presents. Crawford would let her keep one or two and have her give the rest to needy children. This is presented in the film as monstrous abuse but I have to say that it seems pretty reasonable to me today. Still, it’s clear that there were times when Crawford’s highly disciplined and controlling nature devolved into episodes of severe mental and physical abuse. The last thing I would ever do is accuse Christina Crawford of lying about her own childhood. I would think that the only thing worse than experiencing such abuse is telling people about it and not being believed. Only she knows what happened between her and her mother and it certainly seems like Joan had plenty of issues that made her a challenge to live with. On the other hand, I wish the makers of Mommie Dearest had avoided the temptation to create completely fictional scenes of terror like the one in which Joan almost kills Christina in front of a magazine reporter.

As far as Joan’s friends defending her, it’s true that you never really know what goes on behind other people’s closed doors. Still, Christina Crawford hasn’t helped her “case,” in my opinion, by encouraging the camp-fest that has developed around the book and movie of Mommie Dearest. She has appeared at screenings with drag queens playing her mother and at which the crowd interacts with the film à la Rocky Horror using props. The last time I saw the film in a theater, an AFI-sponsored screening for its 25th anniversary in 2006, I was uncomfortable at the uproarious laughter that greeted so many scenes. If the story is true, we are laughing at horrific child abuse. If it is an exaggerated tale of a troubled childhood, we are participating in a major defamation of character of a woman who is not here to defend herself and whose public image (the one thing everyone who knew Joan Crawford said she cared about more than anything) has been utterly trashed.

Not that I can truly blame the audience for laughing or claim that I took the high road and didn’t join in from time to time. How can you not laugh at lines that are so out there they have become indelible parts of our pop culture such as “Christina, bring me the ax!” or the iconic “NO WIRE HANGERS…EVER!!” My personal favorite is a scene that I think shows Joan in a positive light even though she’s clearly being a Class A bitch. After her fourth husband, Pepsi-Cola honcho Al Steele dies, the top brass at Pepsi try to kiss her off. Never one to meekly slither away, Joan Crawford lays into the Board and threatens to use her fame to turn her fans against Pepsi if they continue their campaign to get rid of her. After years of dealing with the sleazeballs of Hollywood, Joan was not about to let this group give her the heave-ho. “Don’t fuck with me, fellas!” she spews with an evil smile on her face. “This ain’t my first time at the rodeo.” I hope she really said that, it’s such a great line.

While the Crawford twins, Cathy and Cynthia, that we see in Feud always defended their mother against their sister’s charges, Joan’s adopted son, Christopher, definitely did not. Though he was never as interested in sharing his story with the world as Christina had done, his own childhood was every bit as troubled. As a young boy, Christopher ran away from home several times. At 12, Joan placed him is a residential military academy but it didn’t curtail the trouble the boy constantly got into. Following Crawford’s death and the release of his sister’s book, he finally agreed to talk to a newspaper reporter in 1978 about his unhappy childhood.

“I want to tell this once, so people will get off my back and leave my family alone,” says the 6-foot-4 man whose hard life shows in his face. He needs dental work. There are small scars on his face and larger ones on his back from a mortar explosion in Vietnam.

Crawford recalled his mother’s “sleep safe,” the harnesslike device used to keep infants securely in their beds. Chris was strapped into bed until the age of 12. Once caught playing with matches, his mother made him hold his hand in the fireplace. “I had blisters all over my hand. That day I ran away for the first time. I was 7.”

Though Chris attended his mother’s funeral, his last encounter with J.C. was five years ago. His youngest child was born in Brooklyn, on welfare. “When Bonnie was born, she had a lot of trouble. She was just a tiny little mass of bones with some skin stretched over them. So I called J.C. and said, ‘I need your help. Your granddaughter needs blood and she needs it now. She might die.’ J.C. said, ‘She’s not my granddaughter. You were adopted.’ I lost my temper and slammed down the phone so hard I broke the receiver. That was it between J.C. and me.”

FEUD: Bette and Joan — “Mommie Dearest” — Installment 1, Episode 3 (Airs Sunday, March 19, 10:00 p.m. e/p) –Pictured: (l-r) Jackie Hoffman as Mamacita, Jessica Lange as Joan Crawford. CR: Suzanne Tenner/FX

That’s as bad as anything in Mommie Dearest. Christopher Crawford died of cancer on September 22, 2006. Cynthia Crawford died the following year. It’s quite possible that Christina and Christopher’s perspectives about their mother were as true and valid as their younger sisters’ claims of a strict but very loving mother. In any event, I’m grateful to Ryan Murphy and Jessica Lange for allowing the world to see a more multifaceted and complex version of Joan Crawford, albeit another fictionalized take that is open to different interpretations. Few people cared more about their career or their public image than Joan Crawford and I’m happy that this poignant examination of the screen legend doesn’t treat her incredible and often tragic life as one big joke. Happy Birthday, Joan!

#Faye Dunaway #Feud #Jessica Lange #Joan Crawford #Mommie Dearest #Susan Sarandon #Features #What's Hot

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davidcarner · 6 years

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Hotel California Ch 7, I’ll Have What She’s Having

A/N: So, housekeeping. I wrote nothing last week. I have a few I've held back I'll go ahead and post, but Grace, well….her foot's not better and my wife is working 80 hours a week so….hi, my name is David and I am Daddy Uber…I'm doing what I can guys. I am working on Casey & Walker, but that is a huge moment, so I need to get it right. I know you're getting this and at least one chapter of Wanting it All this week, and for next week….I have no idea and I'm sorry.

Okay, that out of the way, get ready, we're gonna have fun with this one. Now we have two choices, get rid of Bryce quickly and a lot of the conflict in this fic is gone so then it probably won't last long OR torture the poor guy…heheheheh BTW Dillwg, good catch on the title….Welcome to Hotel California Ch 7, I'll Have What She's Having

Disclaimer: I don't own Chuck, and parts of When Harry Met Sally may have influenced this fic just a little.

"Think I should call Ellie now, or wait until later?" Chuck asked Sarah as they entered the restaurant.

She started to answer when she saw a couple sitting in a booth. The woman's eyes met Sarah's and they both smiled. "Don't think that's necessary."

As the hostess walked up to them, Chuck gave her a look suggesting she was crazy. "A table or a booth?" the hostess asked.

"Actually they're going to join us," Ellie said, as she arrived from her booth. Chuck turned around, mouth open. Ellie had that smile on her face.

Chuck's wheels started spinning. "Uh, Ellie, are you sure that's a good idea, I mean you and Awesome get so little time together."

Sarah smirked at Ellie. "We'll be over there in a minute." Ellie winked at Sarah, turned, and walked back. Sarah turned to Chuck. "What is wrong?"

"You don't understand what you're doing, that is Ellie, the hurricane, if she even thinks there is anything going on between us, she will lose her mind, and if you don't want people to think you're dating your coworker, then she is the last person we should have dinner with." Chuck was nearly panting from rushing all of that out as one super-long sentence.

"You done?" Chuck nodded sheepishly. "Ever think perhaps I thought I'd want to meet my partner's family, since they have done so much for him. Ever think if I'm going to help him shop for Christmas presents for his family I might need to meet them?"

"You got her contact info from my phone!" Chuck said suddenly, like Sherlock Holmes solving a case.

Sarah eyed him. She held up a finger. "One, how else was I going to meet her?" She held up another. "Two, I needed emergency contact information for my partner, what was I supposed to do if something happened to you?" Chuck had no response for one or two. She used her counting hand to brush one of his stray curls to the side. In his peripheral vision, he saw Ellie's eyes widen as she took that in. There was no damage control for this. "Besides," Sarah went on explaining, "I told you, we're more than coworkers, so if they think we're dating, what can I do to stop them from thinking...well, whatever they think?" With that she turned and headed toward Ellie. Chuck's head was spinning again, but the more he studied what she said, the more he liked it.

He reached out and gently caught her wrist. "Hey, wait a second." She stopped and danced toward him, stopping very close. He caught his breath facing her warm, playful eyes. "Listen, you keep saying we're partners, but partners are just that. So far you've been running this whole thing, and while I have no problem with it, sometimes I'd like to be informed. Meeting my sister like this….it's kinda a big deal."

"So, we're partners, really?" The look on her face was hopeful. He nodded slowly. "Okay, in the future I'll remember to keep that all in mind."

"That's all I ask." They finally realized at that moment they were standing oh-so-close in the middle of the restaurant. That really didn't bother either of them, but Ellie was staring at them with a look on her face that that echoed the hope on Sarah's. What none of them noticed during these frozen seconds was that Bryce had sauntered into the restaurant, seen them, and jerked to a stop. He stared, his eyes narrowing at for a few seconds before he stomped out.

At the table, formal introductions were made. Chuck watched Awesome and Ellie both fight to contain their mounting excitement. Sarah was telling them about how hard Chuck had been working and how he hadn't wanted to watch a horror movie.

"He's always been a little squeamish," Ellie explained, grinning fondly at her little brother. "He wouldn't even watch my favorite show for a long time until Hannah showed up."

"Hannah?" Sarah asked, looking over at Chuck. "What show was this?"

"Dexter," Ellie offered. "He had a bit of a crush on her."

Awesome snorted. "More like a full-on crush." He pulled up a picture of Hannah McKay on his phone. "Huh, he might have a type." Chuck blushed all the way down to his roots. Sarah turned to him, an amused smile on her face and then looked back to the picture.

"I don't think she looks like me," Sarah deadpanned.

Everyone at the table was quiet at that, but Chuck knew what he wanted to say, but did he have the courage? He lifted his glass, ready to take a drink. "I figure Awesome meant the crazy part," he said, and then quickly drank his water. Sarah's mouth fell opened as she laughed out loud. Ellie's eyes nearly popped out of her head. Awesome…was just awesome. His laugh rang through the entire restaurant.

"Chuck, you can't say that," Ellie hissed.

"It's fine, Ellie," Sarah assured her. "It's kinda our thing, I mean I don't think I've ever killed anyone with poison…I don't think." She looked at Chuck out of the corner of her eye, making sure everyone saw her do it. She smiled enigmatically.

"This drink tastes funny," Chuck said with a completely serious look on his face. The entire table cracked up again.

-ooooo-

Chuck grumbled to himself and looked at the clock. It was 3:00 am. He didn't know when he was getting out of the hotel. After dinner, Ellie and Awesome invited Sarah back to their place for movies, and Sarah accepted. Chuck wasn't entirely sure where he was supposed to sit on the couch, but Sarah solved that by plopping down right beside him and then snuggling against him. After the movie ended, Sarah said she should get going since the two of them had a big day planned tomorrow. Chuck walked her out and they stopped at the fountain.

"Come out here to think a lot, Chuck?" She was looking at the fountain, up at the stars, just enjoying the beauty. He sat and patted the spot on the fountain beside him. "I think I'd get lost looking up in the sky if I tried to think," Sarah mused.

"The sky actually helps." He was looking up, not noticing her watching him. "When you're looking up there it helps see the big picture and all the crazy, petty stuff of this world gets put into its place, in perspective. Here and at the beach are two of my go-to places to think."

"I'd like to visit that beach."

"I'll take you." He paused. What was it about her that just made him speak without thinking, from the heart? He knew he was mostly honest with people, but with her, it was complete, spontaneous. "I mean, er, that is, if you want to go."

"Why wouldn't I, Chuck?" She breathed the question out softly.

"What are we doing, Sarah?" He turned to look at her. The smile on her face looked like it was only for him, private between them. "This thing with Ellie, us doing stuff, what is going on?"

She swallowed, and decided he deserved the truth. "Do you remember me asking you for coffee?"

"Yes." She waited for more, and eventually he got the hint. The wrong one. "I know, I know, I'm not a coffee guy."

She leaned in close, shaking her head a little. "Chuck, did you know some people use that line to ask someone else out on a date?"

"Really, good thing I didn't….OH MY GOD! You were asking me out!?" She pressed her lips together and slowly nodded. He continued in a mini-spiral. "And my final was that night and you must have thought I was an idiot." She kept her lips pressed together, but gave a shrug that answered his question. "So the thing tonight, you just did it because you were afraid I'd do something stupid and say no." She nodded. "Sarah, was tonight a date?"

"I don't know." There was a playful grin on her face. "I'm afraid you'd feel forced to kiss me if it was."

"Forced?" She nodded. "Sarah, I mean I could suffer through it, although you might run yelling and screaming."

"It'd be that good, Bartowski?" She deliberately widened her eyes.

"Don't think so." Chuck said, shrinking from the challenge, suddenly afraid of disappointing her.

"Why don't you let me be the judge," she said, leaning in and drawing him to her. It was at that moment she heard the Imperial March playing.

"Oh, COME ON!" he yelled, digging his phone out of his pocket. "Sorry, hotel emergency." She snickered. "Bartowski, IT." He dropped his head and rubbed his forehead with his free hand. "Seriously? I'm gonna have to wipe it, to clean it would take hours. Bryce, dude, are you serious? I know, you are in charge, but….okay, I'm on my way." He hung up and turned to her, and she grabbed him by the shirt and pulled his lips to hers. Their lips met and Chuck mind became a stranger to his body. Sarah ran her tongue across his and he moaned into her mouth, making her smile even as she kissed him. She twisted his shirt, pulling him in closer, and their hips made contact. She put her hand on the back of his neck, her thumb right under his ear. His hand came down her shoulder, and slipped down her back slowly. His hand lightly touched her hip bone. She moaned into his mouth, and he grinned even as he kissed her.

She pulled away slightly. "You better go, you know...before," she stopped talking but the look she gave him suggested a lot. A WHOLE lot. He understood for the first time why a look could be called 'suggestive'.

"You're right." But Chuck showed no signs of listening to his own advice. In fact, he was embracing her tighter as he talked, if that were possible. "It's Bryce, though, and I don't want to dilly dally." Dilly dally? Why, why did he keep doing this? He shut his eyes and felt her head fall forward onto his chest. She was laughing silently.

"Chuck Bartowski." He opened his eyes and saw hers staring up at him, smirking. "Don't you ever change."

"Well, I haven't yet, so I think you're stuck with me like this." He paused, that might have sounded a bit presumptuous.

The look she gave him made him so want to stay. "Good, I can handle it."

He had to know. "Still haven't figured it out, Walker," he said softly. "In fact, I think I'm farther away from figuring it out than I've ever been."

"Oh, I think you have." She was smiled her enigmatic smile again, but then her expression opened. "I just hadn't met the right one."

"Really? Because 'hadn't' implies that your circumstances have changed."

"I thought that's what that kiss did?" He gulped, and she laughed. "Go, you'll piss Bryce off, and you don't need that. I'll see you in the morning." She leaned forward and pecked his lips. "Thank you," she said softly.

"For what?"

"For not giving up on my crazy."

A beep pulled Chuck out of his thoughts. He looked at the computer and saw that the last scrub was about to begin. His eyes were heavy. He set a timer on his phone and laid on the couch. He'd get a quick 20 minute nap, and by then the last scrubbing should be done. Hopefully he'd be home by 4am. Hopefully.

-ooooo-

"Chuuuuck." He heard the voice softly in his dream. She was leaning over him, whispering into his ear.

"At least you're clothed this time," he mumbled. He was on his side facing her, his back against the couch. She was wearing jeans and a shirt of some sort. Normal attire. He was glad his dreams were more respectful. His eyes burned and he really wanted to close them.

She smirked and something sparked through him. He was too tired for this, but someone forgot to tell his brain. "I can get unclothed if it will help."

"No, that's not nice of me. Sorry about that dream."

She had squatted down and was gently stroking his hair. "Was it a good dream?"

These dreams were getting ultra-realistic. It was so real. He couldn't believe how real it felt. How good her fingers running through his hair felt. It felt like she was really doing it to him. "I mean I probably shouldn't tell you this, but since you're a dream it doesn't matter. You weren't unclothed, exactly, you were just wearing...a thing."

That grin. God, he'd give anything for her to look at him like that in real life. It was a little naughty, with a whole lot of something, what he wasn't sure, but something good. "A thing?"

"Yeah, it was lacy, gauzy, and your legs…"

He spaced out, and she ran her hand down his jaw. She leaned in very close before she spoke. "Chuck?"

This was a dream, right? "Sorry…please, for the love of God, tell me I'm dreaming." The smile on her face told him he was not, in fact, dreaming. He'd dream-confessed his real dream to his dream-Sarah but had really confessed to the real Sarah. He was ready to crawl under the couch. She stood, then stretched out on top of him. Him on his side, her on top of him.

She could tell he was nervous, from this her placement, or from what he had told her, she didn't know, but if it was the latter, she knew what to do about it. "You weren't wearing anything lacy in my dream," she said softly. His eyes shot open and looked up at her. She hummed as she grinned at him.

Things had obviously changed, but how much? "So, for the record, have you revised your no dating policy?"

"No," she said, playing with his curls. "We're partners, Chuck, we do things together, and what we do together is our business."

He thought about what she said for a minute. "That's semantics. Too much semantics on too little sleep."

She leaned in close, her lips inches from his ear. "I prefer to think of it as syntax. Partners do ALL sorts of things together." She felt him gulp. "You want to check your program and us get out of here?"

"Yes, yes I do." He checked his watch. "Wow, what a nap." She got off of him, a perpetual grin stuck on her face. He went over and checked the main frame. "Thank God, I got it. That thing kicked my ass."

"I didn't think it'd take you all night," Bryce complained, entering the office. "Must be getting distracted." He shot a look at Sarah.

"Seriously, Bryce, he's busting his ass to get the security ready, he's worked on this, he's barely slept, and you're giving him grief?" Chuck watched Sarah defend him, and he was more than a little shocked at her intensity.

"I think maybe he's distracted."

Sarah stared daggers at Bryce. Chuck could almost imagine her throwing actual daggers. "I think he's trying to figure out your system, Bryce"

Bryce swallowed and his eyes narrowed. "That can be…difficult. Good job, Chuck." And with that, he retreated. Chuck turned to Sarah.

"Don't say a word, Chuck, you're not fighting these battles alone anymore." He smiled at her. That's the best thing he had heard in a very long time.

-ooooo-

"Come on, let me buy you lunch for helping me all day, Sarah." They had shopped for several hours and for the first time in his life, Chuck had really enjoyed it. Which was surprising given the amount of coffee he drank and bathroom trips that were required because of it.

She gave him a little shoulder bump. "First, thank you, but no."

He grinned at her. "Because then it's a date?"

She shook her head and smiled. "Chuck, maybe I want to buy you lunch."

He shrugged. "Okay."

She looked at him in surprise. Most men would have had a problem with that, but then again, most men weren't Chuck Bartowski she was realizing. "Really?"

"What, I can't let a woman, a beautiful woman, buy me lunch?" She rolled her eyes. He looked around, leaned in, and whispered softly. "Like, are there strings attached to this lunch." She giggled.

"Yep, I need more details of that dream. A complete, three-dimensional re-telling"

"Guess I'll be buying my own lunch," he quipped flatly. She laughed as they came to the food court.

"Also, I really don't want mall food." He looked over at her.

"Oh," he said with a grin.

She caught the tone, knew he was playing, suggesting she was high-maintenance, but she decided to fight back. Her jaw dropped like she was in shock. "Oh, don't start that mess. It's not that I'm picky. I want a cheeseburger, a good cheeseburger."

His eyes lit up. "I know a place. A hole in the wall."

Her eyes lit up. "Really?"

"Wow, Walker, Now I know!" He sounded Sherlock Holmes again. She looked confused. "I mean if a guy you were dating saw you look like that at the mere thought of a cheeseburger, he could feel jealous, or seriously inadequate."

She laughed. "Do you feel jealous? Or inadequate, Chuck?" she asked very softly and emphasized the "k"

"Why should I?" he asked, grinning and shrugging. "Anyway, we're not dating."

She shoulder bumped him. "That's right, we're partners."

"Partners who kiss?"

"Oh, yes, and other things."

He gulped. She was crazy, but so was he, about her. Completely crazy.

-ooooo-

"You okay, you're not eating much?" Sarah had noticed Chuck hadn't taken many bites of his food, and frankly wasn't even looking in her direction. He had a grin on his face, and he looked a little red. She was wondering if he had been awake for too long. "How much more do we have to do?"

"Oh, I think we've gotten all the necessary stuff that I needed to get for my family, it's my partner I can't figure out." He still wouldn't look at her. He seemed to be fighting off a laugh. She took another bite of the burger. Dear God was that a good burger, it might be better than…oh. As soon as it started to dawn on her, he spoke. "Have you ever seen When Harry Met Sally?" His eyes were dancing as he looked up at her, his jaw trembling, barely preventing the explosion of laughter.

Was he implying…? "It wasn't that bad…was it?" The look on his face said it was. Well, two could play at that game. "Sorry, Chuck, you're the first man to ever satisfy me." He went red as a Santa Claus suit. "With a burger, of course, and a pickle."

"Of course," he choked out.

Oh, this was too much fun. "I have half a mind to take your phone from you, drive you to my house, put you in bed, and make you stay there for several hours." He turned redder. How that was possible, she wasn't sure. She'd need sunglasses to look at him soon. "I mean…" she held out the pause for a long, long time, "you've barely slept the past few days."

There was a slight look of relief on his face, but was that disappointment as well? The grin on her face was growing into a smirk. He knew he had to get control of the situation. "Sarah, you have teased me to no end the past few days." She bounced a shoulder. "I don't want to upset you if I tease back, and I've taken it too far." She plopped the last bit of the burger into her mouth, and folded her hands together as she leaned forward. She looked him right in the eye.

"Chuck, can I have some?" she asked seductively. He was red again all over, or so she supposed.. "Of your burger, if you're not going to eat it." He shook his head, a grin on his face, and pushed it to her.

He leaned back watching her smirk and chew at the same time. A yawn forced its way out of him and she gave him a look. "I'm not gonna lie, spending time in bed does sound nice."

"Me in my lacy, guazy...thing?" she asked with a wink. He shook his head, he was losing at this game, so far behind, and he found he didn't care, in fact, he quite enjoyed it.

"And me...not," he replied. She began to giggle.

"Nice, Bartowski, nice." She finished his burger. "Come on, I'm taking you home and putting you to bed."

"You know I have no idea what you even mean by that, but I find I don't care." He scooted out, turned, and she was standing right there.

"Just remember, I take care of my partner." She winked and sashayed toward the door.

"God, I hope you know CPR," he muttered, and headed after her.

A/N: I am having too much fun with this story…just way too much…come on back next time fro An Exclusive Partnership…too much fun…take care…see you soon…til next time.

#Chuck #Sarah #Charah #fanfic #fanfiction

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