Archive of Our Own ^beta

DISCLAIMER: Characters and locations belong to Tatsuya Endo. This story is participating in the Christmas Exchange 2024 event created by The Writers and is dedicated with deep affection to Unhappy Sometimes.

Twilight was a prodigy of his generation. Since the success of Operation Strix, his spy career had reached its peak, to the point where he was able to solve any impossible mission and even combine his work with his new familiar life. Nothing could compete with his brilliant experience as an accomplished agent, nothing… except age.

At forty-three, Loid counted all the times he’d been in danger of dying: apart from his days in the war or the one time he’d fought his wife, he couldn’t remember so much rest due to a health problem.

“Loid?”, a woman stroked his cheek tenderly.

“Yor…”, he babbled her wife’s name. “W-what day is it today?”

“Don’t think about that, honey,” she kissed his forehead lovingly. “You need to heal.”

“God, I feel like I’ve been asleep for weeks,” Loid sat up carefully in bed, dazed and hoarse.

“Maybe you needed a break,” Yor wiped his face with a damp cloth. “But not like this.”

“Has the fever gone down?”

“Barely,” she sighed, worried. “That mission in Nortica was very hard: why did you dive into that frozen lake? You could have died!”

“It was the only way to escape from the enemy… aaah, achoo!” he sneezed loudly and coughed. “If only I’d run faster to get on the plane, maybe… hmm, I’m getting old.”

“Don’t say that, you fool,” she hugged him tenderly. “We missed you so much, darling…”

“Forgive me,” he kissed her on the head. “I will retire now.”

“You said the same thing a long time ago.”

“Plans have changed,” Loid said, referring to the birth of his last son, two years ago. “Otherwise, who would buy milk and diapers for Lucas?” he laughed with his wife until someone opened the door to their room.

“Good morning, Dad!” an 18-year-old girl came in with a tray of food. “I hope you’ve been feeling well.”

“I’m better, Anya,” he smiled, deeply touched by the kindness of his eldest daughter. “It smells delicious, did you make it?”

“Yes, with the help of Mom and your recipe book,” she stood on the edge of the bed and looked at Yor. “It’s done.”

“Great, I’ll be right back,” she left the room, smiling.

“Done?” Loid raised his eyebrows. “For what…?”

“Ah, right, the omelet burned a little,” Anya interrupted him. “Doesn’t bother you, Dad?”

“Heh, heh, heh, of course not,” he laughed a little, noticing the number of plates, cutlery and cups on the tray. “Not too many forks for me?”

“You’re not going to eat alone,” Anya sat down on the left corner of the bed and turned around to hear her younger siblings laughing as they arrived with Yor and a trolley.

“B-but, kids…” he was surprised.

“Mom said you’d be well soon,” Bastian, his 11-year-old son, took his place in the other corner and received his food. “It’s not fair to have breakfast without you.”

“Besides, who’s going to protect me when Lucas sticks his tongue out at me?” said Myra, his 8-year-old daughter, who sat between Anya and Bastian.

“You liar,” the 2-year-old child complained, clinging to his father’s arm. “Are you okay, Daddy?”

“Of course, my dear,” Yor said, looking at her husband. “Your father is a very strong man…”

Forger’s eyes were immediately wet. He felt blessed to look at his family, nodded with a smile, and didn’t hesitate to taste a large piece of omelet; but the peace was broken and Loid desperately drank every last drop of water left in the jug, surprising everyone.

“Are you okay, Dad?!” Anya approached him to rub his back.

“P-please,” he could barely speak, because of the cough. “Tell me you didn’t put too much oregano on it…”

“Oregano?!” Yor put her hands in her face. “Oh, nooo! I mixed up the jars and put a lot of pepper in the omelets!” she hugged him and apologized, almost crying. “It’s my fault, Loid! Sometimes I forget to follow the recipe! I’m sorry, I’m so sorry, my love…!”

“Mom, don’t crush me…” Lucas whimpered, protecting his omelet.

“Cough, cough… I guess,” Loid accepted the result of her culinary disaster, decided to kiss Yor to calm her down, while their children laughed.

[…]

The phone rang for the fourth time that day. No one answered, neither out of carelessness nor rudeness.

Ever since Yor told them that her husband was ill, WISE agents often called, waiting for Twilight to confirm his health status to them. This bothered Mrs. Forger not only because of the inconvenience to her family, but also because they were putting too much pressure on Loid: reason enough for her to prevent him from being exposed to danger for the sake of world peace.

However, Yor knew how much her tolerance had diminished over the years as she adjusted to normal life, and when she heard another squeak from the phone, Garden’s ex-assassin was almost tempted to interrupt her bath and answer them, sure that her sinister voice would be warning enough.

Just then, the phone stopped ringing, and Yor left the bathroom to make sure Loid wasn’t answering. She noticed that her husband was in the living room, lying on the couch with their children, and the only person who could take the call was pressing the speaker.

“Forger. Who’s calling?” Myra answered.

“Good morning, miss… or rather, good afternoon. It’s already noon,” a woman greeted her from the other end of the line.

“Ah, hello, Auntie Sylvia!” she smiled tenderly.

“Wow! You recognized me, huh? Must run in the family.”

“Heh, heh… are you looking for Daddy?”

“Yes, I knew he had a cold. Is he feeling better? It’s just that I need some files from the hospital and he only knows where they are, so I want to talk to him for a while… you understand me, right? Daddy has to do his chores.”

“Yeah, just like school,” she nodded.

“Good girl. You’re as smart as your dad.”

“I know, Daddy is amazing,” she sighed. “But now his body hurts a lot and he has such a high fever that he could fry eggs with his hands…”

Loid, Yor and the other children gaped at Myra, accepting the fact that her childish folly was undoubtedly a result of her maternal heritage.

“S-sorry, what?”

“Yes, Auntie Sylvia,” Myra changed the tone of her voice to sound very distressed. “Daddy’s been cold since Sunday, and he’s got a terrible cough. It makes me very sad to see him like this.”

“Myra, calm down…”

“It’s just not fair!” she began to cry, frightening her family. “We were supposed to go to the amusement park, but everything was ruined! Daddy didn’t get out of bed, and Mommy went to get more pills because his fever won’t go down, and he’s not even eating well! I don’t want Daddy to die, Auntie Sylvia, I don’t want to be an orphan, I don’t want to, I don’t want to, waaah…!”

“Okay, okay, calm down! I’ll look for the files myself and talk to your father when he’s better, okay? Just don’t cry, please…”

“Snif, snif… mmm, do you promise?”

“When did ever lie to you?”

— / — / —/ —

Myra’s crying echoed through the speaker once again; this time one of the agents had to turn it off as Handler said goodbye to her and promised not bother them again until next week. As she hung up the phone, a heavy silence fell over the office.

“Is that enough evidence, gentlemen?” asked Sylvia uncomfortably.

“Yes, for my ears,” the new head of WISE sneered. “Aaaw, Daddy can’t go because he’s sick. Bullshit!”

Twilight has been a model spy since he joined. He’s taken on and completed missions in record time, worked tirelessly to save the world during Operation Strix, and it’s understandable that his recent mission has put him at risk due to overexertion.” Sylvia reminded him. “You should consider it.”

“So what? Your star agent delayed our five weeks of work in three days, and now his little brat has to save his damn ass. You want me to feel sorry for him? No, because there are plenty of spies more productive than him!” the boss pounded his fist on the table. “Did you hear me, Handler? As long as I’m the boss of WISE, I won’t tolerate stupid excuses like that!”

The woman stared at him without fear: she knew about this man’s corrupt past in Westalis and his poor management of the agency since they had put him in charge, as well as his sick envy of Twilight, to whom he had assigned ambiguous missions at the last minute in order to discredit him.

Sylvia was aware of what his decision would mean for Westalis, but she decided to keep quiet: after all, the responsibility would only fall on that idiot and she also accepted that it was already time for their best agent to retire.

“We’re done,” he stood up with his colleagues, feeling triumphant. “I’ll write the retirement certificate myself, Handler. I don’t want any married spies with families in my department,” he said before leaving her alone in the office.

“Definitely, Myra Forger,” Sylvia smiled as she remembered the girl’s intelligence, charm and cunning. “You’re just like your father.”

─ / ─ / ─ / ─

The little girl hung up the phone, her tears suddenly replaced by the world’s brightest smile.

“You’re free!” Myra returned to her father’s side, then kissed his cheek and placed a cloth on his forehead, “Now I’m going to heal you, Daddy.”

“Mission accomplished, my lovely Sunshine,” Loid patted her on the head, proud of her latest accomplishment.

“What was that about ‘he could fry eggs with his hands’? Ha, ha, that was very original,” Bastian giggled.

“Mom, why aren’t you wearing any clothes?” Lucas pointed at Yor, who was wrapped in a towel, and everyone turned around… especially Loid, whose face turned as red as his wife’s.

“Dad and Mom are flirting!” Anya shouted excitedly.

“WE ARE NOT!” they blushed more than ever.

[…]

The clock read seven in the evening. The Forger children placed plates of cookies and cups of milk, coffee and chamomile on the table as Yor removed the thermometer from Loid’s mouth. His wife’s joy softened his heart, and he wanted to get up when he knew the fever was gone.

“Not so fast,” Bastian stopped him, immediately covering his legs with a thick blanket and rearranging the pillows behind his back so he could sit more comfortably. “You’re still shivering.”

“I think I’m getting used to it,” he joked affectionately.

“I wouldn’t mind doing this forever,” he laughed like his mother. “You’re the best dad in the world.”

“Bastian…” Loid dropped his gaze happily, noticing that he wore the suit to formal parties. “Why are you wearing…?”

“Dinner time!” Yor interrupted his question and kissed his forehead before sitting down in the chair while his eldest son sat with his sisters. “I hope the cake turned out well, I worked hard this time.”

“You know I love everything you do for us,” he looked at her with deep love and patted the seat between them. “Why didn’t you come here?”

“Lucas insisted,” she watched as her boy brought over a bowl of mashed potatoes. “Ready, dear?”

“Yes, Mommy,” he sat down between his parents and lifted the spoon to take a first bite, smiling. “Here comes the plane, Daddy, choo-choo…”

“Wh-what? B-b-but, Lucas, mmm…” he didn’t have time to argue and took the food.

“Aaaw, you look so beautiful, Loid!” Yor celebrated.

“Hey, that sounds like train,” Myra corrected him.

“Maybe it’s a flying train,” Anya defended her brother.

“Dad, you’re getting too red,” Bastian made his father blush. “Here it comes again, choo-choo…”

“Choo-choo!” they all imitated Lucas and laughed.

“P-please, help me, Yor,” Loid almost choked on the second spoonful.

Just then, someone rang the doorbell and Bastian was the first to run to the door, grabbing a coat he’d left on the rack earlier. The spy watched his son’s actions and finally connected the dots when he heard the voices of five children and two couples carrying snacks.

“UNCLE LOID!” the children of the Franklin and Briar families walked over to Loid’s seat and hugged him together.

“Children!” he was overwhelmed and looked at the costumes they were wearing, as if they were from a fantasy play. “Why are you dressed like that?”

“We came to surprise you!” Sophie, Yuri’s youngest daughter, said.

“Surprise?”

“Come on, kids!” Anya called her siblings and cousins into her room.

“It’s hard to say ‘no’ to the kids, but you must know that, Loid,” Franky laughed, dressed as Count Scruffy Head. “Ha, ha, what about your outfit, Yuri?

“Don’t make fun of me,” he warned him, blushing because from his pink squid disguise.

“Oh, how scary, darling,” Chloe kissed her husband, giggling, and then sat down next to her sister-in-law. “Sorry we’re late, the kids…”

“Yeah, Anya told me about their plan,” Yor shrugged.

“What plan?” Loid stared at her.

“A mission so secret that not even the Westalis’ best spy knew about it,” Fiona teased him, sitting in the single chair. “They beat you, Twilight.”

“Says the mother of two unruly twins,” he played along.

“Touché,” she grinned. “How are you?”

“I’m recovering,” Loid nodded and looked at her wife. “I have a good nurse at home.”

“Oooh, please don’t start kissing now, there are children in the house,” Franky set up the party lights, then popped a paper bomb and the children came into the living room doing stunts to the sound of Bondman’s song.

Yor, Fiona and Chloe cheered, and Loid clung to his blanket, not quite understanding the performance until his eldest daughter came out dressed as an Imperial Scholar.

“Ladies and Gentlemen! Welcome to this masterpiece created for a great man!” Anya bowed and turned to Loid. “Dad, I know you didn’t go to the hospital to avoid suspicion, and even though we’re not expert doctors, we did our best to cure your fever. I want you to know that we love you very much and this piece is a reminder of why we’re so proud of you.”

Loid was usually eloquent, but this time he was at a loss for words and put his hand over his mouth to drown out a sob. Though his body felt the feverish pain, his soul leaped with joy to fulfill his life’s mission. The spy appreciated that it was all worth it just to be with his loved ones in the warmth of his home.

Anya didn’t need to read his mind to know how he felt and started the funniest show of his spy job to make him very happy. The veteran wasn’t surprised that Bastian was imitating him, since they looked so much alike, but he almost burst out laughing when he saw Yuri playing the alien sidekick of Count Scruffy Head and Yorticia, played by Myra. Lucas and his younger cousins took care of the bubbles, yelling, and toy guns, while the older Franklin and Briar children allied themselves with the spy to defend the peace.

The play ended with Bastian’s victory and everyone applauded; then they had dinner together, played and watched TV… until the clock struck midnight. When the Forger’s house turned into a sleepover, Loid and Yor went to Anya and Myra’s room so the kids could sleep on their bed, since the other rooms were occupied by Franky, Fiona, Yuri and Chloe.

“These kids have a lot of energy,” Loid lay down slowly, his legs still aching. “Don’t you think?”

“Heh, heh, heh, they’re really amazing!” his wife lay next to him and stroked his cheek very gently. “Are you feeling well, honey?”

“Much better,” he kissed the back of her hand. “My life has changed since I fell in love with you, Yor. I’m so glad I married you…”

Yor’s eyes shone with emotion and she gave him the purest, most tender kiss that made Loid fall asleep in her arms. As her lullaby enchanted him, the prince who lived in his heart dreamed of the silver stars and the soft light of his family’s love.

[…]

“Good morning!” Loid greeted his family and guests sitting in the dining room, ready for breakfast. “Sorry, I got up a little late.”

“It’s eight, don’t exaggerate,” Yuri pulled a chair over to her sister’s place so he could sit down. “Did you sleep well?”

“That’s never asked, do you, Loid?” Franky nudged a little.

“Hey, have some respect…” Fiona slapped him on the head, making her children and nephews laugh.

“You cheeky,” Loid blushed at the insinuation, noticing his wife’s absence. “Where’s Yor?”

“She went to get your blanket, ah?” Anya interrupted her explanation and looked towards the door. “Someone’s coming.”

“I’ll go for you, Loidy, relax,” Yuri stepped forward and waited for the doorbell to ring to serve the person on the other side. “Yes, how can I help you?” he said, and his serious voice suddenly became high-pitched. “Woo-hoo, thank you very much!”

“Is something wrong?” Chloe worried.

“I finally got it!” Briar closed the door and returned to the dining room with an orange bottle. “This herbal tea looks like the recipe my sister used to make when I was a kid, it will cure your cold in no time!”

“R-recipe?” Loid stared as he poured the thick liquid onto a spoon and tried to stop him. “Yuri, wait, why don’t you…?”

“Who knocked on the door?” Yor entered the living room, and Yuri took advantage of his brother-in-law’s distraction to give him the medicine.

“WHAT THE HELL IS THIS?!”, the spy shouted after drinking the syrup due to euphoria and intense heat running through his body, “I HAVE NO MORE PAIN! WHY-WHY-WHY DON’T I FEEL ANYTHING?!”

“What did you do to him, Yuri?!”, she held him with everyone’s help.

“I knew it, it works!” he cheered.

Hmm… now Dad is really going to die, Anya felt sorry for him.

N.A.:

Good night! I’m glad to write after so many months and I’m very happy to have participated in the exchange, because I’ve met very good people.

I have had to give this fanfic to Unso on this special occasion: even though the Christmas season is over, I wish you a happy new year, filled with great experiences and lots of inspiration to write many wonderful stories (like the FionKy fic you dedicated to me, which I love it with all my heart, because it’s a divine jewel… I swear to you, I almost cry when I finished reading TwT).

The idea of writing about Loid’s post-Strix illness really appealed to me, and I wanted to show him in a very vulnerable state of health, together with his family, his friends and all the children they had, to make his sensitive side come out :’3 (my God, can you imagine all the efforts they’re making to repopulate Ostania ha ha ha ha LOL).

I hope you like this fanfic a lot, Unso, I love you were my person in this exchange, and thanks to everyone for reading and reviewing! Good luck! :D