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The air up in the Mountains being so crisp, and cold signaling its time for Autumn after enduring great heat great enough to melt tires on the road over the last few weeks. Nevada is a beautiful state with much to look at from the small towns to the many mountains with a gentle coating of snow like powdered sugar. Nestled high off a winding dirt road, the small wooden cabin felt light-years away from the chaos of the world. A quiet haven with a stone fireplace, a squeaky porch swing stained in old oak, and a kitchen that has enough room to host a small party.
Outside, dusk is settling over the high elevated evergreen-trees, turning the valley into shades of deep indigo and gold. Within, the rustic kitchen is filled with the rich, simmering aroma of garlic, crushed roma tomatoes, and browning meat with a metal spatula grinding it down into smaller pieces.
Jake stood over the old gas stove concentrating, handing a wooden spoon to Sherry instructing her to stir the sauce for him, the spatula being spun around in his other hand humming vaguely under his breath to an old song he heard on the radio this morning. He wore a faded flannel shirt with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows showing off his well-muscled arms, looking a little silly in such a small apron and yet somehow completely at home. Sherry must have washed it wrong, he could have sworn this apron fit him better last time he wore it.
"If you stir that sauce any faster, super girl, you're gonna wear it," Jake said, slanting a sideways glance at Sherry with a half grin.
Sherry leaned against the counter beside him lowering the temperature of the cooking sauce to focus on diligently dicing a pile of fresh basil making Jake nervous as she looked away for a second not paying attention to the blade so close to her fingers. She paused, tilting her head with a look. "I'm not stirring it fast. I'm keeping it from burning on the bottom. There's a big difference."
"Right. Because the agent with the regenerating-healing factor is terrified of a little scorched tomato paste, let's worry more about you getting hurt," Jake teased, reaching out to snag a piece of sliced green bell pepper from her cutting board and popping it into his mouth. Lightly sweet with an earthy taste, the crunch was to die for.
"Jake, those are for the pasta!" Sherry swatted at his hand with the back of her wrist, but a small, bright smile betrayed her. "And for the record, I just want dinner to be nice. We actually have a real kitchen, a real stove, and nowhere to run tomorrow. I'm taking advantage of it."
Jake chewed slowly, leaning his hip against the edge of the counter. His blue eyes softened as he watched her diligently cook the meal. She has her short hair pulled back into a loose bun, a few blonde strands framing her face, and her cheeks were flushed warm from the heat of the stove. Such a beautiful sight, he never thought he would be cooking next to her like this with only the sounds of birds, and the crackling wood from the fireplace as it burns down into small black coals.
"Fair enough, babe," he murmured, his voice dropping its usual sharp edge. "It's nice. I'm not complaining."
Sherry stopped chopping for a second, the word babe lingering in the small room. She looked up at him, her blue eyes meeting him. After everything they had survived the snow-covered peaks of Edonia, the underwater facility, the endless pursuit of that monster, this quiet life in the American mountains still felt surreal. But hearing him say things like that, so casually, made it feel real as if the world truly was peaceful.
"Good," she said softly, stepping closer to hand him the rest of the basil. "Then throw these in."
Jake took the small wooden board from her, scraping the fresh basil into the pot. As he stirred it in, the steam rose up between them, carrying the herbs' sweet scent making his mouth drool. Sherry is not only an amazing agent, but a brilliant cook in the kitchen too.
"Taste test," Jake declared, dipping the spoon into the sauce and blowing on it carefully. He held it out toward her, placing his other hand gently behind her shoulder to steady her. "Tell me if it needs more salt, or if I'm officially a culinary genius with this recipe I came up with."
Sherry leaned in, leaning slightly against his chest as she took a small taste from the spoon. She chewed thoughtfully, her brow furrowing in concentration just to tease him by making him wait so long for an answer. Sherry takes a clean spoon near her, doing another small thoughtful taste test as Jake grows impatient tapping his foot, and crossing his arms watching her tease him. How long was she going to torment him so? He needs to know!
"Well?" Jake asked, raising an eyebrow.
"It's..." Sherry delayed, a spark of mischief in her eyes. "...actually really good. You might actually be a genius, Jake."
"Told you," he smirked, setting the spoon aside on the stove side. "You doubt me too much, Sherry."
"I never doubt you," she corrected quietly, her tone shifting from playful to sincere. "Not about the important stuff."
The playful banter settled into a comfortable, quiet space. Outside, the rain began to patter gently against the cabin's tin roof, a rhythmic, soothing sound that sealed them into their own little world. Jake didn't step back toward the gas stove. Instead, he turned his body fully toward her, hovering in the narrow space between the counter and the island. His thumb brushed over her cheek, lightly wiping away a stray speck of sauce.
"You got a little something..." he murmured, his thumb lingering on her soft skin.
Sherry didn't pull away. She looked up into his scarred, handsome face, feeling the familiar, steady warmth radiating from him. "Did I?"
"Yeah," Jake said softly, his voice barely above a whisper. "Right there."
He leaned down, closing the small distance between them. When his lips touched her soft ones, its slow, and filled with a tender gravity that neither of them ever dared to show the rest of the world. Sherry let out a quiet breath as they parted, her hands coming up to rest against his chest, feeling the solid beat of his heart under the flannel. Jake’s hand slid down to the small of her back, pulling her flush against him, his fingers resting gently at her waist going in for another kiss.
The kiss lingered this time, completely unhurried, tasting of sweet tomatoes, rich garlic, and the cool mountain air that drifted through the slightly open window of their home. For a few long moments time truly belongs to just the two of them with no rush to rush out on a rescue vehicle to take down some other terrorist. When Jake finally pulled back, he didn't go far, resting his forehead against hers. A rare, genuine smile touched his lips.
"Not bad for a night off, super girl," he whispered against her mouth.
Sherry let out a soft laugh, her fingers gently twisting into the front of his shirt. "Not bad at all. Now turn down the burner before our masterpiece burns."
"Right," Jake chuckled, giving her one more quick, lingering kiss on the lips before turning back to the pot. "Priorities. If only this night off could be forever."