valarltd | More Chuck for those who want it

The table held a roasted chicken, stuffing, peas, a salad and sweet potatoes. Seven sat down, realizing it was the first meal he’d had in a real kitchen, at a real table, in over two years. He flinched when the elder Hummingbirds folded their hands and bowed their heads, but noticed Chuck did the same out of respect. He braced but Charles just said a thank-you for the food, and for their safe journey addressed to a generic God. He could handle that.

The first few minutes were quiet as they passed the food. Charles carved the chicken with the calm air of a man who did this regularly. “Dark or light, Seven?” he asked, sliding a leg and thigh onto Chuck’s plate.

"White, please,” Seven said. Charles laid two neat slices of chicken breast on his plate. Seven helped himself to a moderate sized serving of dressing and the vegetables. He was hungry, even though he’d been eating steadily for the last few days, but didn’t want to look like a pig. The chicken melted in his mouth, and tasted of garlic and herbs and wine. He looked amazed.

"This is really good, ma’am,” he said to Linda.

She rolled her eyes. “And now he ‘ma'am’s me.” She smiled at Seven, who was blushing and had stopped eating. “Sorry, Seven, around here ‘ma'am’ is over seventy. He has better manners than you do, Chuck.”

Chuck grinned and helped himself to more sweet potatoes.

Linda’s face lost all its humor. “And if you don't think that little stunt of yours caused some international trouble, you just better think again, mister. The office has been insane all week.”

"Sorry, Ma,” Chuck said, sounding sincere.

Seven was startled at how fast the tiny woman could reduce his lover to a misbehaving eight year old. “My fault entirely,” he put in.

She smiled at Seven again. “Not at all. I told Elizabeth this was a bad idea, that we should hire all white drivers to make the run. But my idiot son gets a case of the macho and had to go try to count coup like he’s Attakullakilla.”

"Famous Cherokee warrior,” Chuck supplied, seeing Seven’s puzzlement. “He took five hundred men into battle for George Washington.”

Linda passed more stuffing Seven’s way. “I’m just glad you were along to bail him out.”

Charles changed the subject. “So, Seven, what do your folks do?”

"They're farmers. Have been for generations. We have about eighty acres in central Iowa.”

"My grandparents were as well.” Charles smiled. “They grew corn and sunflowers, squash and beans. We've been city folk for a couple generations now, and I keep killing Linda’s rock garden. So, you were planning to be as well?”

"I don't think I planned it. It was just always assumed I would take over. But it didn't work out that way.”

Linda nodded. “Yes, Chuck filled us in a little. I'm sorry you had such a dreadful experience.” She passed more peas Seven’s way. “You aren't the first stray he's brought home.”

Seven smiled at her and took thirds on the peas. “I've heard there were a few.”

"Ma...” Chuck rolled his eyes, and Seven was struck by the resemblance to his mother. Chuck’s physical appearance might be his father’s but his mannerisms were pure Linda.

"But you are the most articulate,” she said, pretending not to hear him. “He's sweet, Chuck. Hang on to this one.”