From the Beginning (part 22)
Thanks for the reviews! I hope you enjoy this chapter. I've been waiting to write it for a while now. One of my favorite episodes.
Title: From the Beginning
Rating PG 13
Summary: Chuck was enthralled with Olive from that first awkward moment in the hall. The entire PD series done to cholive-y goodness
The Norwegians
Chuck dragged herself into hers and Olive’s apartment later that night, a chill still settling over her body, both from the night air and from the pain of watching her father drive away, abandoning her. She dropped her coat and scarf somewhere between the door and the bedroom, not really caring where they landed. Grasping the cold knob in her hand, she went to open the door but it wouldn’t budge. She jiggled it and pressed her palm on the smooth wood.
“Olive,” she said to the door, her voice cracking slightly. When there was no answer, she pushed her ear to the door and listened for movement, but heard only the slight buzz of the radiator heating the apartment. Too emotionally and physically exhausted to keep trying, she curled herself into a corner of the couch and closed her eyes, clothes and shoes from the day still on. She hugged herself, trying to evade the cold as much as to pretend Olive was lying besides her. Chuck squeezed her eyes shut in an attempt to keep the tears from cascading down her cheeks. She took in a shaky breath, and quietly drifted off to sleep, her exhaustion finally getting the best of her.
When she awoke the next morning, there was a blanket placed over her and her shoes had been taken off and placed besides the couch. She sat up, looking around the apartment for Olive, but the only evidence of her was the opened bedroom door. Rubbing her eyes with the backs of her hands, Chuck stood up, grimacing as she stretched her neck, stiff from spending the night on the couch.
The brunette got ready and headed down to the Pie Hole, looking around the restaurant for Olive. When she didn’t see her, she sat at a booth with Ned and Emerson, folding her arms on the table and resting her chin on her wrist.
“I’ve been dumped by my own dad. And to boot, I had to sleep on the couch last night,” Chuck mumbled to no one in particular.
“You weren’t dad dumped. And why did you sleep on the couch?” Ned said looking at her.
“Olive locked the bedroom door. I didn’t even know we had a lock on the bedroom door. And my dad just left. No explanation, no apology, no forwarding address.”
“At least my dad sent a postcard with his new address complete with his new family.”
“I think he mighta left ‘cause I told him.”
“Told him what?”
“About Olive. About me and Olive.”
“Oh.”
“When I told him he was so…so understanding,” Chuck sat up and pressed her palms to the wood surface of the table in anger, “I thought everything was okay!”
“Maybe he just needs some time to process. To digest,” Ned suggested.
Emerson, who had been observing the conversation from his side of the table finally spoke up, “Did you tell Olive about dear old daddy up’in and goin’?”
Chuck shook her head, “I haven’t seen her since that lovely conversation in the doorway yesterday.”
“I think it should stay that way,” the detective said sipping his coffee.
“What? Why?”
“Don’t you think Itty Bitty will have an itty bitty breakdown by being rejected once by you and once by your father?”
“I didn’t reject her!”
“You called her your friend. You rejected yo’ relationship. So you rejected her by proxy.”
Chuck put her chin back down on her hands, “I’m a terrible girlfriend. And a terrible daughter. I’m just in general a terrible person.”
“We jus’ need to fix this.
Olive walked over to the table, looking at everyone but Chuck. “Fix what?”
“Fixin’ to tell you to mind yo’ own business.”
“Are you working a case? Let’s break it down. Is it murder? Is it a kidnapping? Who are the players? Lay it on me.”
“This is one of those need to know cases. And you don’t need to know.”
“I’m your Itty Bitty. I’m helpful.”
“Cherry Kiwi crumble. A la mode.”
Chuck looked up at the blonde, “Olive, can we talk?” The petite woman looked at her briefly before beginning to walk away. After only a couple of steps, she sharply turned back around, “Hold up, yo. I’m not some yo yo you can jerk up and down on a ‘today lets include her and tomorrow lets not’ whim. Because if it is, there are only so many knots you can tie in my string before it snaps. For good.” At the sentence, Olive looked penetratingly at Chuck, her blue eyes drilling into green on the ‘g’.
“Olive, please,” Chuck pleaded reaching for her hand but letting it hover in the air between their bodies. “Olive please my ass,” Emerson interrupted, “get my pie.”
“You know I hate this,” Chuck began, “Olive is my girlfriend and I should tell her what’s going on.”
“No. Because once you tell her a little, you gotta tell her a lot. She don’t know ‘bout Dwight. And we’re keepin’ it that way.”
Chuck got up and followed Olive into the kitchen, standing across the counter from her as she sliced a pie. “Olive,” she began cautiously in a voice one would use when trying to coax a wounded animal out of a cave, “please, talk to me.”
“You don’t want to hear what I have to say,” Olive said curtly, stabbing the pie with perhaps more violence then was necessary. Without giving chuck another chance to speak, Olive walked briskly back into the dining room. For the rest of the day, Olive did all she could to avoid being along with Chuck so there was no more conversation.
“Slice me up something fresh and expensive and it better be on the house because I just saved yo asses,” Emerson said sitting at the counter.
“Why? What happened?” Chuck asked setting apiece of pie in front of him.
“Your aunt Vivian came visiting me trying to hire me to find her missing paramour Dwight Dixon.”
“What did you tell her?” Ned asked.
“I said ‘no need to pay me, I know damn well where Dwight Dixon is. Buried in the ground where I put him.’ What do you think I said? No!”
“Poor Vivian,” Chuck sighed, “carrying a torch for a flame that I extinguished.”
“With my finger”
“Well don’t you both worry. I gave her plenty of reasons to forget about him. The last thing we need is somebody investigating the disappearance of Dwight Dixon.”
No sooner then the words had left Emerson’s mouth, the bell above the door rang and three tall, professional looking people came in. “Hello, Emerson Cod,” the middle man said in a thick accent.
Emerson turned slowly in his chair, “Hello, Magnus.”
“We’ve been cosigned to investigate the disappearance of Dwight Dixon.”
Chuck rushed into the kitchen, pressing herself against the wall so the foreign investigators would not spot her and recognize her as the girls who was supposed to be dead. Her heart almost skipped a beat when she saw Olive walking towards her, standing besides her on the wall. “I’m still mad, so ignore my caring tone. So why are we hiding?” she whispered.
The brunette looked down at her, unable to keep her eyes from wandering down the front of her Pie Hole uniform, the zipper down low enough so she could see her full cleavage. Olive’s arm accidentally rubbed against her hip and arousal shot through her, settling in the pit of her stomach. Chuck realized that the lack of physical contact in the past two days had really affected her in the worst way, and the overwhelming need to touch Olive was almost too much. So when Olive leaned forward to look into the kitchen and Chuck pressed her palm to her chest to stop her from revealing their location, the taller woman could not hold back any longer.
She slid her hand from Olive’s tanned chest up to her shoulder, pressing her to the wall while she swung herself around so she was in front of the smaller woman. She pressed her body completely against the blondes, making sure they were still hidden from the other detectives.
“Chuck,” Olive whispered looking up at her in anger, “What do you think you’re-“
Chuck pressed her lips forcefully to the blonde’s, swallowing her words and causing her head to hit the wall. Olive clawed at the brunette’s forearms, trying to push her away. Tired of her protesting, the Dead Girl took her by the wrists and held them above her head. Forcing her tongue into Olive’s mouth, she roamed the mouth she was so familiar with. A strangled moan bubbled from Olive’s throat when Chuck pressed her hips into hers, further pinning her against the wall. Keeping both of the blonde’s hands against the wall with one hand, Chuck ran her fingers lightly down her arm, over her neck and down her chest, plunging down to her cleavage, her fingers running along the tops of her breasts. Olive bit down on Chuck’s bottom lip and she gasped in pain, tasting the blood in her mouth. The petite woman took the opportunity to rip her mouth away from her girlfriend’s and growled at her, “Chuck! What the hell are you doing? I’m not going to let you sex me up and make me forget I’m mad at you!”
With one firm thrust of her hips, Olive successfully pushed Chuck away from her body, releasing her arms as she stumbled backwards. Olive ran a hand through her mussed hair, pressing a single finger to her swollen lips before marching into the dining room just as the Norwegians were leaving. Chuck stood dumbfounded, desire coursing through her veins. She licked the blood off of her lip and winced slightly at the pain. She wasn’t sure what had come over her. The need to touch Olive was so strong that she had run on pure lust and instinct when pressing Olive into the wall.
The blonde plucked a vial containing Ned’s DNA out of their hands, “Thank you.” The blonde man plucked a hair from her head and she looked around in confusion after they left, “What’s going on?”
“Nothing,” the three said in unison. Anger clouded over her face once more and she stomped behind the counter, drying dishes with vigor. Ned and Emerson decided to have Olive go to Vivian’s house and get her to call of the Norwegians, and she was more than happy to oblige. Chuck ran her tongue along her swollen bottom lip, tasting copper. The burning in her lower stomach was hard to ignore, but realized she had to when Olive walked out the door to her aunt’s without even a second look at Chuck.
It was several hours later when Chuck spotted Emerson standing besides the M.O.T.H.E.R. and joined him. “What are we doing?” she whispered.
“We are doing nothing,” he said making a contraption with a mirror and gum, “I’m spying on those damn Norwegians. See what they’re up to. What are you doin’ here? They’re gonna see you and realize yo’ not as dead as your supposed to be.”
“They’re not going to see me. I just want in on the action.”
Sighing, Emerson said nothing more. He held the mirror up to one of the windows, peering into the high tech bus. “Oh hell no, you itty bitty traitor,” he said, causing Chuck to grab the mirror and peer into the bus herself. What she saw made her stomach churn with anything but desire. Olive was standing with a small glass of alcohol in her hand, outfitted in one of the Norwegian uniforms. And next to her, standing dangerously close to her with her hand around the blonde’s waist was Hedda, smiling down on her like an animal that caught its prey. But when Olive leaned against her, laughing flirtatiously Chuck felt her heart shatter.
Title: From the Beginning
Rating PG 13
Summary: Chuck was enthralled with Olive from that first awkward moment in the hall. The entire PD series done to cholive-y goodness
The Norwegians
Chuck dragged herself into hers and Olive’s apartment later that night, a chill still settling over her body, both from the night air and from the pain of watching her father drive away, abandoning her. She dropped her coat and scarf somewhere between the door and the bedroom, not really caring where they landed. Grasping the cold knob in her hand, she went to open the door but it wouldn’t budge. She jiggled it and pressed her palm on the smooth wood.
“Olive,” she said to the door, her voice cracking slightly. When there was no answer, she pushed her ear to the door and listened for movement, but heard only the slight buzz of the radiator heating the apartment. Too emotionally and physically exhausted to keep trying, she curled herself into a corner of the couch and closed her eyes, clothes and shoes from the day still on. She hugged herself, trying to evade the cold as much as to pretend Olive was lying besides her. Chuck squeezed her eyes shut in an attempt to keep the tears from cascading down her cheeks. She took in a shaky breath, and quietly drifted off to sleep, her exhaustion finally getting the best of her.
When she awoke the next morning, there was a blanket placed over her and her shoes had been taken off and placed besides the couch. She sat up, looking around the apartment for Olive, but the only evidence of her was the opened bedroom door. Rubbing her eyes with the backs of her hands, Chuck stood up, grimacing as she stretched her neck, stiff from spending the night on the couch.
The brunette got ready and headed down to the Pie Hole, looking around the restaurant for Olive. When she didn’t see her, she sat at a booth with Ned and Emerson, folding her arms on the table and resting her chin on her wrist.
“I’ve been dumped by my own dad. And to boot, I had to sleep on the couch last night,” Chuck mumbled to no one in particular.
“You weren’t dad dumped. And why did you sleep on the couch?” Ned said looking at her.
“Olive locked the bedroom door. I didn’t even know we had a lock on the bedroom door. And my dad just left. No explanation, no apology, no forwarding address.”
“At least my dad sent a postcard with his new address complete with his new family.”
“I think he mighta left ‘cause I told him.”
“Told him what?”
“About Olive. About me and Olive.”
“Oh.”
“When I told him he was so…so understanding,” Chuck sat up and pressed her palms to the wood surface of the table in anger, “I thought everything was okay!”
“Maybe he just needs some time to process. To digest,” Ned suggested.
Emerson, who had been observing the conversation from his side of the table finally spoke up, “Did you tell Olive about dear old daddy up’in and goin’?”
Chuck shook her head, “I haven’t seen her since that lovely conversation in the doorway yesterday.”
“I think it should stay that way,” the detective said sipping his coffee.
“What? Why?”
“Don’t you think Itty Bitty will have an itty bitty breakdown by being rejected once by you and once by your father?”
“I didn’t reject her!”
“You called her your friend. You rejected yo’ relationship. So you rejected her by proxy.”
Chuck put her chin back down on her hands, “I’m a terrible girlfriend. And a terrible daughter. I’m just in general a terrible person.”
“We jus’ need to fix this.
Olive walked over to the table, looking at everyone but Chuck. “Fix what?”
“Fixin’ to tell you to mind yo’ own business.”
“Are you working a case? Let’s break it down. Is it murder? Is it a kidnapping? Who are the players? Lay it on me.”
“This is one of those need to know cases. And you don’t need to know.”
“I’m your Itty Bitty. I’m helpful.”
“Cherry Kiwi crumble. A la mode.”
Chuck looked up at the blonde, “Olive, can we talk?” The petite woman looked at her briefly before beginning to walk away. After only a couple of steps, she sharply turned back around, “Hold up, yo. I’m not some yo yo you can jerk up and down on a ‘today lets include her and tomorrow lets not’ whim. Because if it is, there are only so many knots you can tie in my string before it snaps. For good.” At the sentence, Olive looked penetratingly at Chuck, her blue eyes drilling into green on the ‘g’.
“Olive, please,” Chuck pleaded reaching for her hand but letting it hover in the air between their bodies. “Olive please my ass,” Emerson interrupted, “get my pie.”
“You know I hate this,” Chuck began, “Olive is my girlfriend and I should tell her what’s going on.”
“No. Because once you tell her a little, you gotta tell her a lot. She don’t know ‘bout Dwight. And we’re keepin’ it that way.”
Chuck got up and followed Olive into the kitchen, standing across the counter from her as she sliced a pie. “Olive,” she began cautiously in a voice one would use when trying to coax a wounded animal out of a cave, “please, talk to me.”
“You don’t want to hear what I have to say,” Olive said curtly, stabbing the pie with perhaps more violence then was necessary. Without giving chuck another chance to speak, Olive walked briskly back into the dining room. For the rest of the day, Olive did all she could to avoid being along with Chuck so there was no more conversation.
“Slice me up something fresh and expensive and it better be on the house because I just saved yo asses,” Emerson said sitting at the counter.
“Why? What happened?” Chuck asked setting apiece of pie in front of him.
“Your aunt Vivian came visiting me trying to hire me to find her missing paramour Dwight Dixon.”
“What did you tell her?” Ned asked.
“I said ‘no need to pay me, I know damn well where Dwight Dixon is. Buried in the ground where I put him.’ What do you think I said? No!”
“Poor Vivian,” Chuck sighed, “carrying a torch for a flame that I extinguished.”
“With my finger”
“Well don’t you both worry. I gave her plenty of reasons to forget about him. The last thing we need is somebody investigating the disappearance of Dwight Dixon.”
No sooner then the words had left Emerson’s mouth, the bell above the door rang and three tall, professional looking people came in. “Hello, Emerson Cod,” the middle man said in a thick accent.
Emerson turned slowly in his chair, “Hello, Magnus.”
“We’ve been cosigned to investigate the disappearance of Dwight Dixon.”
Chuck rushed into the kitchen, pressing herself against the wall so the foreign investigators would not spot her and recognize her as the girls who was supposed to be dead. Her heart almost skipped a beat when she saw Olive walking towards her, standing besides her on the wall. “I’m still mad, so ignore my caring tone. So why are we hiding?” she whispered.
The brunette looked down at her, unable to keep her eyes from wandering down the front of her Pie Hole uniform, the zipper down low enough so she could see her full cleavage. Olive’s arm accidentally rubbed against her hip and arousal shot through her, settling in the pit of her stomach. Chuck realized that the lack of physical contact in the past two days had really affected her in the worst way, and the overwhelming need to touch Olive was almost too much. So when Olive leaned forward to look into the kitchen and Chuck pressed her palm to her chest to stop her from revealing their location, the taller woman could not hold back any longer.
She slid her hand from Olive’s tanned chest up to her shoulder, pressing her to the wall while she swung herself around so she was in front of the smaller woman. She pressed her body completely against the blondes, making sure they were still hidden from the other detectives.
“Chuck,” Olive whispered looking up at her in anger, “What do you think you’re-“
Chuck pressed her lips forcefully to the blonde’s, swallowing her words and causing her head to hit the wall. Olive clawed at the brunette’s forearms, trying to push her away. Tired of her protesting, the Dead Girl took her by the wrists and held them above her head. Forcing her tongue into Olive’s mouth, she roamed the mouth she was so familiar with. A strangled moan bubbled from Olive’s throat when Chuck pressed her hips into hers, further pinning her against the wall. Keeping both of the blonde’s hands against the wall with one hand, Chuck ran her fingers lightly down her arm, over her neck and down her chest, plunging down to her cleavage, her fingers running along the tops of her breasts. Olive bit down on Chuck’s bottom lip and she gasped in pain, tasting the blood in her mouth. The petite woman took the opportunity to rip her mouth away from her girlfriend’s and growled at her, “Chuck! What the hell are you doing? I’m not going to let you sex me up and make me forget I’m mad at you!”
With one firm thrust of her hips, Olive successfully pushed Chuck away from her body, releasing her arms as she stumbled backwards. Olive ran a hand through her mussed hair, pressing a single finger to her swollen lips before marching into the dining room just as the Norwegians were leaving. Chuck stood dumbfounded, desire coursing through her veins. She licked the blood off of her lip and winced slightly at the pain. She wasn’t sure what had come over her. The need to touch Olive was so strong that she had run on pure lust and instinct when pressing Olive into the wall.
The blonde plucked a vial containing Ned’s DNA out of their hands, “Thank you.” The blonde man plucked a hair from her head and she looked around in confusion after they left, “What’s going on?”
“Nothing,” the three said in unison. Anger clouded over her face once more and she stomped behind the counter, drying dishes with vigor. Ned and Emerson decided to have Olive go to Vivian’s house and get her to call of the Norwegians, and she was more than happy to oblige. Chuck ran her tongue along her swollen bottom lip, tasting copper. The burning in her lower stomach was hard to ignore, but realized she had to when Olive walked out the door to her aunt’s without even a second look at Chuck.
It was several hours later when Chuck spotted Emerson standing besides the M.O.T.H.E.R. and joined him. “What are we doing?” she whispered.
“We are doing nothing,” he said making a contraption with a mirror and gum, “I’m spying on those damn Norwegians. See what they’re up to. What are you doin’ here? They’re gonna see you and realize yo’ not as dead as your supposed to be.”
“They’re not going to see me. I just want in on the action.”
Sighing, Emerson said nothing more. He held the mirror up to one of the windows, peering into the high tech bus. “Oh hell no, you itty bitty traitor,” he said, causing Chuck to grab the mirror and peer into the bus herself. What she saw made her stomach churn with anything but desire. Olive was standing with a small glass of alcohol in her hand, outfitted in one of the Norwegian uniforms. And next to her, standing dangerously close to her with her hand around the blonde’s waist was Hedda, smiling down on her like an animal that caught its prey. But when Olive leaned against her, laughing flirtatiously Chuck felt her heart shatter.