Chuck versus The Last Wish

Chapter 10 – First Date

The low sun painted the narrow streets gold as they stepped out of the apartment.

The warm evening breeze off the Bosphorus brought welcome relief, carrying the combined aromas of roasted lamb, charred eggplant, freshly baked pita, and dark Turkish coffee from nearby open-air terraces. In the distance, the muezzin’s call echoed over the rooftops before dissolving into the lively bustle of the dinner crowds. 

Chuck took a deep breath. “I know we came here on a mission… but if someone cooks a bad meal in this city, I’m pretty sure it’s a federal crime.”

Morgan nodded solemnly. “Finally, a government with priorities.”

Sarah shook her head softly. “You two are impossible.”

“I’m taking that as a compliment,” Chuck said, rolling his sleeves up against the heat.

Sarah turned away to hide her smile. In her light summer dress, with her hair loose and fluttering in the breeze, she looked completely relaxed—the picture of a tourist on vacation. Which, of course, was the entire point.

Morgan, meanwhile, strode alongside them in a faded Atari T-shirt. “Say what you want, but I’m the only one here dressed for peak comfort.”

Chuck eyed him up and down. “Morgan… you’re a walking advertisement for a dead video game console.”

Morgan adjusted his collar without missing a beat. “Style is eternal, Bartowski.”

XXXXXXXXXXX

They settled into a small street-side restaurant, taking a table under a canvas awning lit by the warm glow of small candles. The owner greeted them with a wide smile, recommending the daily specials before covering their table in a spread of hummus, ezme, warm pita, and grilled vegetables, followed by sizzling plates of spiced lamb.

Morgan stared at the spread in reverence. “I need a photo of this.”

Chuck raised an eyebrow. “We’re on a mission.”

Morgan slowly lowered his phone with a sigh. “What a waste of perfect lighting.” 

A soft, genuine laugh escaped Sarah’s lips. Chuck turned to her, forgetting the food entirely.

Sarah caught him staring. “What?”

“Nothing,” Chuck said, his smile widening. “It’s just… really good to hear you laugh.”

Sarah’s gaze softened. “It feels nice, too.”

Beside them, Morgan suddenly found the exact texture of his lamb to be the most captivating thing in Western Asia.

Across the table, Sarah picked up an olive and ate it. Chuck cleared his throat softly. “Since when do you like olives?”

Sarah paused, looking at him in surprise. “I don’t?”

“You used to pick every single one off your pizza,” Chuck said softly. “Always.”

Sarah looked down at the olive in her hand. “They’re not bad,” she murmured, but she quietly set it back on the plate.

By the time tea and honey-drenched baklava arrived, Morgan leaned back against his chair in pure bliss. “If every op begins with a feast like this, I’m declaring myself a lifelong advocate for international espionage.”

Chuck laughed. “A surprisingly noble cause.”

“Everyone needs a dream.”

Sarah shook her head with a faint smile. “Is everything in your life driven by food?”

“No,” Morgan replied with absolute solemnity. “Also video games. And Alex. Especially Alex.”

Chuck nudged him with an elbow. “Look at that, Sarah—our little bearded guy is all grown up.” 

XXXXXXXXXXX

A short distance away, a middle-aged couple was having dinner. The woman’s handbag lay on the table.

The camera inside it was pointed directly at Chuck and the others, recording their table.

XXXXXXXXXXX

The evening breeze off the Bosphorus carried the clatter of passing trams and the acoustic strains of a street musician as they walked back toward the apartment. Morgan had lagged a few steps behind, hopelessly transfixed by a shop display featuring retro video game cartridges.

Sarah fell into step beside Chuck. “You still owe me a story.”

“I haven’t forgotten,” Chuck said, glancing over his shoulder. “I just wanted to wait until Morgan finished calculating how to smuggle half a Turkish kitchen back through customs.”

Morgan didn’t take his eyes off the display window. “All of the kitchen, Bartowski. Learn to dream bigger.”

Chuck chuckled, but then his footsteps slowed. His gaze flicked subtly down the crowded sidewalk behind them.

Sarah’s posture shifted instantly, her spy instincts keying into his hesitation. “What is it?”

“Nothing… probably,” Chuck murmured, rubbing the back of his neck. “I could’ve sworn I’ve seen the same guy in a red baseball cap three times since we left the airport.”

Sarah swept the street behind them with a quick, practiced glance. The crowd was a blur of shoppers, street vendors, and evening diners—no red cap in sight.

“Could just be another tourist taking the same sightseeing route,” she offered gently.

Chuck looked down the cobblestone alley one last time before shaking it off. “Yeah. Yeah, you’re probably right.”

XXXXXXXXXXX

Chuck sat on the edge of the bed reviewing Sarah’s operational notes. Hearing the bedroom door click shut, he looked up just as Sarah began unzipping her summer dress by the wardrobe.

He reflexively snapped his eyes back to the screen, awkwardly rubbing the back of his neck.

Sarah caught his sudden deflection, a soft smile tugging at her lips. “Why do I get the feeling you wouldn’t have looked away back then?”

Chuck blushed. “Things were simpler back then.”

“Why?”

“Because I knew I wouldn’t get in trouble for looking at my own wife,” Chuck said.

Sarah raised an eyebrow, slipping into bed under the crisp sheets. “You think you’re going to get in trouble now?”

“I don’t know. I’m not taking any chances.” Chuck stared at the glowing monitor with world-saving intensity.

Sarah shook her head softly. “Chuck… you can look at me. Besides, you owe me a story.”

Chuck turned toward her, letting the laptop screen drop slightly. “Right. I could tell you about our first date.”

“Okay,” Sarah smiled.

“Which one?”

Sarah blinked in confusion, propping herself up on one elbow. “How many were there?”

“Two. Technically three, but who’s counting?” Chuck grinned. “On our first date, I found out you were a lethal CIA agent who’d come to fetch me. On our second first date, we’d already been fake-dating for two years. It started out great—right up until mercenaries captured us and Casey drove his Crown Victoria straight through the restaurant wall.”

Sarah listened intently, genuine laughter breaking through as Chuck recounted every ridiculous detail. They talked long into the night, until the laptop beside the bed faded to black and the quiet calm of the city took over.