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The fact that Loid didn’t immediately wake up from the feeling of cold metal around his left wrist, combined with having let his guard down enough to fall asleep around his “family” again, almost had him giving up his dignity as a spy and turning himself into Ostania’s State Security Service. Almost. As it were, his crash back to reality was induced by Yor’s startled yelp, the only split second warning he got to catch a spinning projectile.
Taking another moment to fully wake up and take in his surroundings, a second look at the object in his hand revealed it to be...a bent kitchen knife? The brand on the blade confirmed that yes, it was part of the set he bought when moving in. He carefully schooled his expression before turning to the likely culprit and found matching ashamed expressions.
Yor, whose right hand was on the other end of the oddly familiar handcuffs attached to his left, wouldn’t meet his eyes. Anya, hiding behind Agent Penguin, looked to be on the verge of tears. The pieces were slowly coming together.
“I’m not mad,” he began. Not even panicked...well, maybe just a little. “I just—”
“I’m showwie!” Anya wailed before dragging Agent Penguin to her room. Yor, naturally, stood up to comfort Anya, her momentum taking Loid with her. Face, meet coffee table. Maybe if he succumbed to unconsciousness, he would wake up and realize this was all a dream.
Alas, that was too much to ask for, as his own hand limply swung and smacked the side of his face. “Ahh I’m so sorry Loid, are you alright?” Yor knelt near his crumpled form and gingerly examined his head, careful to not drag him along with her movement again.
“I’m fine,” he said unconvincingly. But really, it was nothing compared to time she had kicked him. He’d survive. Truly. Straightening, he held up both hands, “and as for these…”
Yor cleared her throat, suddenly very interested in checking the coffee table for any damages, “Well, Anya and I were playing one of her spy games, and she ‘caught the bad guys’,” she held up her part of the handcuffs, “I thought it was some toy you got her, but then it wasn’t. And she couldn’t find a key, and so I thought I could just…” Trailing off, she helplessly gestured to the horribly mangled knife in Loid’s other hand.
She paused. “Fix it before you woke up?”
Choosing to ignore the implications about how the knife came to be in its current state, he instead focused on another detail in Yor’s retelling. “These...aren’t mine.” Nevermind the part about Anya possibly going through his belongings, if they weren’t his or Yor’s, whose were they? Yor, for her part, looked torn between relief and despair at the information.
It didn’t take long for him to place not just the familiarity of the handcuffs, but also how Anya got them. Inwardly, he wanted to facepalm and groan. Outwardly, this translated to, “Actually, I think I remember Frankie having these the last time he babysat Anya. He must have left them here by accident, I’m sure he has the keys. I’ll just call him.” At least he wouldn’t have to awkwardly explain how a psychiatrist knew how to pick locks.
And so, they made their way to the phone like a variation on the three legged race. Yor tried her best to resist the natural movement of her arms while walking, but also instinctively flinched every time their hands brushed. Luckily, the trip wasn’t very far. At some point in their journey, he also saw Anya in the hallway, peeking her head around the corner.
The conversation, rather than reassuring him, only instilled in him a sense of impending doom. Moreover, Yor’s proximity mere feet away meant he couldn’t explicitly mention anything about WISE. Among other things. It went something like this.
“Hello Frankie, I hope I’m not bothering you.” I swear, so help me, if you don’t fix this I can’t be blamed for what follows.
“Do you remember if, the last time you were here babysitting Anya, you left a pair of toy handcuffs here?” What the hell were you thinking, giving one of your inventions to a six year old?
“Pardon me, I didn’t quite catch that.” What do you mean you didn’t invent the keys to nigh indestructible handcuffs yet?!
Loid wasn’t sure how long he stood there, hand resting on the phone back in its receiver, soul leaving his body. As a spy, he has had his fair share of restraint. Self restraint? Not punching Swan Murdoch’s smug smile off his face. Physical restraints? You name it. This? Now this was testing both.
“So, what did he say?” Yor’s expression wasn’t unlike that from when awaiting the Eden results.
He pinched his face into, hopefully, a reassuring smile. It probably came out more like a grimace. “He said he couldn’t find it but he’d look. He should be able to find it within a few days, at the latest.”
He watched as Yor went through the first four stages of grief, then decided to throw caution to the wind. “You know what, how hard can it be? I was given a lockpick set as a gag gift once, it couldn’t hurt to try.” He’s had to work with far less ideal tools before, under a time crunch. This was nothing. And since Yor believed it was a toy, there was no need to explain anything. “Anya, would you like to watch?”
Anya stood up from where she was crouched in front of Bond and ran to cling to Yor’s and his leg in each hand, pointedly pouting at the ground.
“Yor, do you mind holding onto this? And lightly apply pressure so that if I get it right, it can turn.”
A few scant minutes and even more broken tools later (added to the casualty pile with the knife on the table, too close to Anya’s sleeping form), Loid was close to considering breaking his hand to attempt to get out of the handcuffs, but that would still leave Yor stuck. Moreover, it was pretty snug against his wrist as it were.
“Well, I guess we should call in sick to our workplaces for the next few days. Sorry to make you use your sick days for a thing like this.”
As it turned out, Yor called her boss, then a beauty parlor. “Hi Shopkeeper, I’d like to cancel my appointment for tomorrow...no sorry, I probably wouldn’t be able to reschedule within the next few days, please do make sure to give it to someone else...yes, yes, I’m sorry for the trouble. Thank you, goodbye.”
“Are you sure you want to cancel your appointment? If they’re that booked I’m sure it’d be fine if I sat next to you, as long as I’m out of the way.” After all, it was very unexpected for her to care about such a thing, but then again, what if it was part of her trying to become a better ‘wife,’ like learning how to cook? What if she didn’t want him to comment on it? Judging by her expression, he was probably messing up again!
He added quickly, “You know what, it’d be hard enough to explain our situation, maybe it’s for the best not to go.” Yor let out a poorly disguised sigh of relief, and Loid allowed one internally as well for not throwing the fake marriage into shambles.
“I’ll just call my scheduler, and we can just...relax.” Hopefully she’d enjoy that more than his multitude of failed date ideas the last time around.
Handler picked up before the first ring finished.
“Hello, this is Dr. Forger. Unfortunately, I’m in a bit of a situation and won’t be able to take any cases for the next few days. I’d like to use my sick leave, and I could pick up a few extra cases after the trouble passes.”
“I’m afraid that, due to the unique circumstances of my situation, I really won’t be able to even have a single consultation. After all, it would violate patient confidentiality.” I have a civilian handcuffed to me, how do you expect me to cover that?
‘That just sounds like your normal circumstances, does it not? I’m sure you’ll figure something out.’
The dial tone answered him before he could push his case further.
How understaffed were they, that he’d have to work in these conditions? It might as well be illegal. What would he do about Yor, maybe she’d be willing to wear earmuffs and turn the other way for client privacy?
“Don’t worry Loid, I’m fine with doing that! It’s already weird enough if you have to meet your patients while handcuffed to someone!” Jolting to meet Yor’s sincere expression, he realized he had just muttered everything out loud. Great. He wasn’t just a fool, he was a tired, sloppy fool, barely clutching onto the remnants of his dignity as a spy.
“Thank you, Yor. And we’ll iron out the details in the morning. For now, let’s all go to bed. Do you think you can help me carry Anya?”
Once Anya, who didn’t stir once the entire time, was asleep in her own bed—honestly, was he picking that up from her or something—their next predicament became evident.
“Our clothes, and—do you think—if we moved the beds...” Yor trailed off, face flushed.
“Well, given our range of motion, I don’t think we’d be able to move the other bed in here. Don’t worry, I’ll just sleep on the ground. As for our shirts...we can just cut the sleeves, and I can sew it back when we’re done if you want.”
“That reminds me of the last time I tore my dress—,” Yor paused abruptly and paled, looking distinctly...panicked? Uncomfortable? Ah, when they first met at the tailor shop.
Given the already present proximity, he almost placed his hand on hers for comfort, then remembered she held no such feelings for him at all. “I don’t think any less of you for not knowing how to cook or sew, Yor. Like I’ve said before, we all have our strengths. And even knowing that, your drive to continue facing the obstacles you’re faced with is very admirable.”
She reddened further, and he prayed he wasn’t overstepping his bounds, when she dropped the subject, “Let’s just go to sleep then.”
He settled with plenty of bedding on the floor, and Yor expressed concern for him having the short end of the stick once again. His arm falling asleep? Ha. This wasn’t even close to topping the worst sleeping conditions he’s faced: sleeping while standing up with his eyes open while on a non-stop mission for over 72 hours.
Or at least, that’s what he thought.
89 minutes in, his eyes snapped open to a tugging sensation on his arm. Or at least, he assumed so from the harsh feeling in his shoulder, as his arm was numb from pins and needles. In an instant, he found himself bodily tossed upwards, most of his body landing on the edge of the mattress as Yor tossed and turned about.
A slow minute passed without Yor stirring until Loid decided it was safe to gather the bedding from the floor to place as barrier on the bed between them. That was before he found himself thrown back onto the floor on the opposite side of where he had been originally. Yor’s deep, even breaths told him that it wasn’t throwing him off from embarrassment or on purpose. She was just that restless of a sleeper. And surprisingly strong.
Well, at least he was still holding the bedding. Too bad he was still conscious.
As Yor started to grumble in her sleep, he figured he was in for a long enough night that he may as well plan out a cover story for his meeting with WISE’s informant.
Perhaps the intrusion of the sun’s rays into his eyes woke him up. Or maybe it was his body clock following the usual circadian rhythm on the dot. Really, he had no idea anymore and accepted that the situation had already spiraled way out of his control a long time ago. But he was awake before Yor, tangled up in all the bedding that somehow made it onto the bed with him.
Eyes following his right arm, he spied Yor not far off from the pile he was in, looking peaceful on the other side of the bed.
At least it wasn’t a school day, as small a blessing as it was. Neither of them were in any state to get ready, cook breakfast, and wake up Anya on time for school. The meeting with the informant (his “patient”) wasn’t until the afternoon. He didn’t want to try waking Yor up, because his self-preservation was still intact, thank you very much. Maybe...he could...go back to sleep...a 30 minute nap wouldn’t hurt anybody...
When Yor shook him awake, the change in lighting and the sinking feeling in his gut told him his “nap” had been more than 30 minutes. But of course, he was too well trained to yelp—it had nothing to do with Yor’s silencing motion. Looking to where she was gesturing, he held off the urge to jump at seeing both Anya and Bond curled up on the bed with them. Nevermind letting down his guard around them, was it just nonexistent??
It was a slow start to the morning in the Forger residence. But any victory for the Forgers was a victory for Operation Strix, he reminded himself.
Cooking and cleaning was a tricky affair, as Loid tried to divide up tasks so that they’d be able to work together but still within their physical constraints. As such, their hands repeatedly brushed against each other randomly, and the frequency of the occurrence didn’t seem to make it any less blush-inducing.
By the third time Yor hastily apologized for the incident, Anya was fully awake and asked, “Are Ma and Pa gonna kiss?” to which both of them hastily turned around to deny it. Luckily, the food wasn’t too burnt, and was still edible, if not presentable.
He still hadn't decided on the best cover for Yor while meeting his informant—if anything, the measures they were taking for plausible deniability would make her presence even worse for the informant’s nerves. A liability, in their field of work. Plus, he couldn’t take his normal precautions (that is to say, a disguise) in case it’d tip off Yor.
But he had to breach the topic and perform the necessary damage control, preparing for any worst case scenarios. They had already established that the best way to stay coordinated (and minimize dislocating his arm) would be to hold hands while walking (though he wondered if it was a catch-22, as the idea seemed to displease her so much she almost broke his hand).
“Okay, let’s go over the scenario one last time. Again, I’m sorry I can’t give you any more details due to confidentiality, but hopefully you won’t have to do anything at all.”
“Right! You’ll be meeting with a patient who’s having delusions about reality, and they have to give you their observation journal about their experiences the past few weeks. I’ll be wearing these earmuffs facing the other way, and will ignore anything out of the ordinary! I’ll do my best not to look at the patient’s facial features or the journal at all to protect their privacy!”
Loid nodded, and squashed the uneasy feeling in his chest about how flimsy of an excuse he was operating under. Just another day in the life of a spy. “Alright, let’s head out. Be good to Frankie while we’re gone, Anya.” He ruffled her hair before grabbing his hat and desperately hoped she wouldn’t.
Frankie had said “the key wasn’t at his place” and would look around where he played with Anya. I.e. the soonest they’d have the key would be that evening.
He thought he heard the neighbors from across the hall when opening the door to let Frankie in, but had hoped they’d disperse by the time he and Yor left the apartment. But no. Life wasn’t so easy that he’d be able to catch a break. It was as if these women made it their business to spy on the neighbors.
Making eye contact with Yor, they reached a silent understanding to try to sneak past the gaggle of women as quickly (and politely, of course) as possible, but they were caught right as they made it to the staircase.
“Well, if it isn’t the Forgers! Are you two out on a date? How sweet!”
Loid tipped his hat perfunctorily, angling his body to hide their conjoined hands, “Yes, it’s rare we both have a day off, so we’re making the most of it.”
Sadly, these women had better eyes than some of WISE’s spies. “Why, are those handcuffs I see? Did you lose the keys or ‘lose’ the keys, hmm?” The group tittered about amongst each other without waiting for either of them to answer the question.
On the bright side, at least being the topic for the neighborhood gossips meant his cover was secure. Even at the cost of his dignity. Do it for the mission, Twilight.
Yor seemed at a loss for words, so he implemented a tactical retreat, bidding their goodbyes and well wishes to the neighbors. Thankfully, Yor seemed just as eager to not mention anything that had just transpired.
This informant in particular was known for being incredibly paranoid (who wouldn’t be?), so when met with the sight of a spy towing along a stranger to the designated meeting point, the last thing Loid expected was for the informant to casually say, “Agent Twilight, who’s this?”
He wanted to stiffen, but any negative reaction was practically an admission of guilt. Yor had already donned the earmuffs, and sat with her back a warm comforting presence to his, giving no indication of having heard the informant’s slip up at all.
“Don’t worry about her, she won’t have any bearing on our meeting today.” He reassured, sussing out the nearby pedestrians within earshot. He was without a disguise, so anybody could connect “Agent Twilight” and “Loid Forger” from this outing alone.
The informant nodded sagely, “A spy’s conquest, I see. So those movies do have a grain of truth to them.”
His skin prickled at that comment, but not due to the possibility of being caught as a spy. He’d analyze the feeling more later. “Anyway, the journal entries for this month, if you would please…”
The file had barely made it to his hands before he heard, “If I never saw you again, it’d still be too soon, Loiloi.” Loid immediately switched to Panik™—er, Emergency Mode. “And hello Yor, those are wonderful looking earmuffs! Are you perhaps too cold? And—hey, what do you think you’re doing to my sister?!” So he not only was meeting an informant in front of an SSS agent, but said agent saw the handcuffs. Even better.
Yor turned around, earmuffs around her neck, and immediately tried to defuse the situation (and there went the hope that she didn’t hear anything the entire time), “Hi Yuri, don’t mind us, we’re just roleplaying!”
A few seconds passed, and the words didn’t seem to sink in for Yuri.
“I asked Loid to do it, and he was kind enough to indulge my request—” Yuri quickly gestured in the air wildly, to stop her from talking or distract himself from listening, Loid had no idea. Hopefully this encounter wouldn’t end as violently as the dinner, as they were very much in public this time.
Yuri cradled his head in his hands, mumbling something all the while, before pointing at Loid, garbled screaming escaping his mouth as he ran away. (The man lost all reason when it came to his sister, etc etc.)
“Look both ways before you cross the street, Yuri!” Yor scolded as his form quickly became a dot in the distance.
To any onlookers, they walked back home leisurely. The only caveat was that Yor’s grip was incredibly tight on his left hand, and he already felt like the entire ordeal shaved ten years off his already short life. He probably messed up things with Yor, especially concerning her brother.
Children were awfully perceptive about the emotions of those around them. Plus, he wasn’t about to give Frankie any more ammunition. With that thought in mind, he started slowing their place to a stop.
“Yor, I—”
“I’m sorry Loid!” He paused as Yor took the words straight out of his mouth.
It wouldn’t do at all if she thought him unreasonable, so he replaced his surprise with a reassuring smile. “You have nothing to be sorry for, what brought this on?”
“I keep messing up, and I’ve just been chaining you down. I could have stopped Anya from putting these on, and you solved all the problems—the clothes, the cooking, always planning ahead for me and Anya. I even took off the earmuffs earlier today during your meeting with your patient! What if it gets you in trouble?” Yor had released his hand to grip and fiddle at the hem of her shirt instead.
“It’s not your fault at all, Yor.” He stressed again. “Like I’ve said before, even when you’re in completely new and strange situations, you take it all in stride and do your best to see it through. This situation has really made me see that about you up close.”
Yor shot her head up to meet his eyes, and he nodded, “And you were and are plenty of help. You support me in my shortcomings, like being there for Anya or talking to your brother earlier. You’re my equal, and we’re in this together, like partners.” She gaped at him, and he hastily added, “Partners in crime. Metaphorically, of course.”
Although she didn’t seem like she wholly believed it, she nodded and thanked him, taking his hand to continue their walk home. However, even though her expression looked more at peace than before, he’d have to do a better job of reassuring her later, since her death grip on his hand didn’t abate at all. He really didn’t understand her at all.
The way back was much smoother than any other point of the journey. There were no neighbors in the hall, and fishing out the key to the front door took no time at all. (Or maybe their teamwork had become a well-oiled machine by that point.)
“Look who’s back, Anya, it’s your Ma and Pa! And do I have a surprise for you two!” Frankie’s voice greeted them from whatever he, Bond, and Anya were up to in the living room.
Yor closed the door behind them as Loid hung up their hat and coats before he cast a raised eyebrow at Frankie.
“Tada~ I found the key!”
Loid begrudgingly acknowledged he’d pay extra for the rush job and turned to Yor, “That’s great news. And since we already called in sick from work, we can just take the next few days to relax normally.”
“Yeah yeah, and no thanks for me, eh?” Frankie joked, lazily waving the hand not holding the key. He used what seemed to be...a magnet around the bulk of the handcuffs before easily unlocking it with a key. “It’s like one of those metal puzzles, you know. You have to get it in the right configuration before you can even unlock it.” Well that explained a lot. If that was all there was to it...
“It’s one of those special magnets, too. But hey, all’s well that ends well, right?” He smirked in Loid’s direction, “Anywho, now that the key’s been found, do you want to keep this for future use or—”
“Actually, where did you buy this from?” Yor queried earnestly. “You know, I could’ve really used toys like this in my childhood. I wasn’t able to solve those metal puzzles because I’d end up breaking them. They didn’t even bend at all, so I wondered whether they were really metal or not!”
Nursing his newly freed wrist, Loid was once again glad for his lack of broken bones, no matter who would have broken them.