"Chuck, honey," Sarah called from the kitchen, "what do you want for lunch?"
Chuck put his still-open book face-down on the end table and removed his reading glasses. He flipped the arms away from himself so the lenses pointed towards the floor and sighed as he contemplated them for a moment. They were just another example of physical proof that time was catching up with the Intersect.
After snapping the arms closed and placing the glasses next to his book, Chuck stood and walked to the kitchen door. A smile creased the corners of his eyes as he paused to watch his wife at work there, and even though he knew that she was aware of his presence, she continued chopping a large green pepper with deadly precision and the finesse of someone who had lots of experience handling large, intimidating blades.
"Is a frittata okay?" Sarah inquired, pausing in her work, knife poised and ready to begin an assault on several onions that had already been peeled and sat awaiting the same fate as the pepper.
"Of course it is, Sarah," replied Chuck. "You know how I love egg-based dishes. But why are you cutting up so much food?"
Sarah stopped once more, mid-slice, and slowly lowered the knife.
"I got carried away again, didn't I? I just can't seem to get used to the house being so empty."
Chuck's wry grin mirrored his wife's as he approached. Circling her waist with his arms, he then stooped down slightly and rested his chin on her shoulder.
"Want me to see if Casey and Ilsa and Vasily can come over to help us eat it?"
"Oh, Chuck, would you?" Sarah's excitement and relief was palpable to her husband. "Only we have them here so often. I thought you might be tired of having them over again so soon."
Sarah put the knife down on the counter and turned in Chuck's embrace, raising her arms into the air as she did so. Clasping her hands behind his neck, she searched his eyes with a worried frown, waiting to see what his reaction would be.
Chuckling with affection at her concern, Chuck pulled Sarah tightly to him and spoke into her ear.
"Sarah, my love, you should have people around you all the time. After all, why should I be the only one fortunate enough to enjoy your company?"
After a moment's silence during which Chuck inhaled his wife's heady scent, a mixture of floral shampoo, vanilla and onions, he added, "Besides, with any luck, it won't be long until we're so busy with a new baby there won't be time for anything else. But that's a discussion we can have tonight. Without words. In our bedroom. Alone."
After a brief but tender kiss, Chuck reluctantly released Sarah so she could go back to her chopping and he could activate the communications function on his wristwatch.
"Casey. Lunch. 1200 hours," he barked into the device in a commanding tone.
A gruff, familiar voice replied, "A-OK, Intersect. Sure you and the little woman will be finished making out in the kitchen by then?"
"Casey!" Chuck cried into his watch, scandalized. "Have you been spy –"
"Of course, moron," came the forthright reply. "I am a spy, after all. New high-powered binoculars. I'll bring them over when we come for lunch. Tell Walker she's got a piece of green pepper just below her left ear."
Impressed in spite of himself, Chuck responded with "Will do," and terminated the transmission.
He turned back to Sarah, who had heard everything the two men had said. She smiled broadly and canted her head to the right, exposing her neck to Chuck, who spotted a small green fragment stuck just where Casey had said it would be, and he leaned down to kiss it from her warm and flushed skin.
"Mmm, frittata," he moaned as he straightened again, causing Sarah to laugh, throwing her head back a bit as she did so. Since this motion also made her raise her knife hand a bit and the sharp blade along with it, Chuck decided that it would be prudent to take a step back and give Sarah some room.
Joining with his wife in her preparations for lunch in the company of their neighbors, Chuck pulled plates and cutlery from cupboards and drawers, but not before whispering three simple words to Sarah that were full of anticipation and promise.
"Later, my love."
While the frittata baked in the oven, Chuck and Sarah sat on either side of the kitchen table facing each other. As though there had been some silent signal, they extended their arms over the surface, interlaced their fingers and looked into each other's eyes. It was a look of peaceful calm they exchanged, one full of happiness and contentment, assured self-awareness and strong, deeply felt love.
"Well, it certainly has been an interesting couple of years," Chuck said, a twinkle in his eyes as Sarah's smile widened at the observation.
"You can say that again," she countered, a hint of a sigh in her voice.
"Well, it certainly has been an interesting –"
"Chuck!"
Sarah's bright laughter washed over the two of them and mixed with her husband's hearty guffaws, rendering them both speechless while they shared the old-as-the-hills joke that was still so typical of the nerd-turned-spy named Charles Irving Bartowski.
"What's so funny, guys?" Ilsa asked as she entered the kitchen through the mud room, followed closely by Vasily and Casey, and walked over to the chair beside Sarah's.
"Nothing, really," Sarah replied while wiping tears of laughter from her cheek. "Just Chuck's adorable sense of humor that gets me every time, even though it shouldn't."
"Yeah, he gets me every time too," grunted Casey with a deadpan stare at his friend and neighbor while looking as far from amused as it was possible for anybody to be.
"I think you are joking, no?" Vasily observed as he lowered himself gingerly onto a chair. "You two boys are close, like brothers. I can see."
"Of course they are, papa," assured Ilsa.
When Ilsa made a motion to pull her chair out, she gave a startled squeak instead when Casey hurried around behind her to take over the process and make sure his pregnant wife was safe and seated comfortably. After the NSA agent had seated himself, he placed the compact but powerful binoculars on the table in front of Chuck, who was immediately absorbed by the technology and poked and prodded at the device while posing a steady stream of questions for Casey and Vasily.
Sarah, meanwhile, motioned for everyone to remain seated after the oven timer rang, and she got up to serve their lunch, chatting happily with Ilsa over the noise the men were making, the topics ranging from pregnancy to housekeeping to firearms to covert ops in a matter of minutes.
Chuck suddenly fell silent during this happy and convivial gathering and, as he observed the animated faces and listened to the chatter around him, he thought to himself with the quiet satisfaction of a man fulfilled that spy family life certainly was good.
