Work Text:
Twilight couldn’t remember the last time he’d felt energised or well-rested, in fact, it had been so long he felt like he'd grown accustomed to his eternal exhaustion. Now the dark circles that had originally shocked him, became a part of him, even if he did cover them up with parts of his disguise kit. Every so often, Twilight would be graced with an hour or two of sleep, and in those moments he would vow to storm up to Handler’s desk and demand for less missions. But as his eyes painfully awoke to the faintest shift in the floorboards, or a passing breath of someone in the apartment, he would sigh, get up, and get ready to receive his next mission.
Yet, despite all this, today Twilight felt exhausted - like nothing he’d ever felt before. Sure, he was used to his body feeling heavy and his brain being muddled from missions, but today, he felt like if he closed his eyes, he’d never open them again. Now that he thought about it, that didn’t sound too bad.
His whole body trembled with effort, every fibre of his being too exhausted to even live, it seemed. This was bad. Or maybe good. If he passed out right here, maybe the hospital could take him and he’d be able to sleep stress-free in those uncomfortable hospital beds. At the moment, that seemed like heaven.
Twilight inhaled, wincing as his breath rattled through his lungs. That was a stupid fantasy. He avoided being admitted to hospitals like the plague, for obvious security reasons, and furthermore, passing out in a public park would cause a scene. Giving into his exhaustion and dealing with those jeopardising consequences was against everything he had learnt in his extensive career.
As Twilight- no, Loid, walked (staggered, actually) through the park, his mind could barely tether itself to the ground in front of him. He felt like he could float away at any second. Not even the leash around his wrist, tying him to Bond, could get his mind to sharpen. The noises and lights around him clashed together horribly, yet not even that cacophony could waken him up
This was a new low. And Loid- Twilight, for he was far too tired to keep up this act, called himself a spy. What happened to his soul having no time to rest? This was a beginner’s problem, not his.
But…was it a beginner’s problem? Dealing with 5 or more missions at the same time all expecting completion by the end of the day, along with a top priority mission that was, and is simultaneously still going? Surely this was an inhumane expectation, or was he just softening up?
Losing his touch?
“Loid, are you alright…?”
Twilight didn’t realise he had hung his head until Yor’s distant voice sounded in his ears. He straightened his body and plastered a strained smile on his face, dismissing the agonising fatigue that throbbed all throughout his battle-worn body. That effort alone stole centimetres off of his vision until he was drowning in a sea of black spots.
“I’m fine, Yor. Are you okay?”
Twilight prided himself for not slurring his words.
Why was he so tired today, he asked himself. It wasn’t like he had done anything outside of his recent workload (damn WISE’s inability to hire and train new agents).
He grimaced.
Right.
It was that damn tennis match he was forced to take. Play some tennis, Fiona had said; it's just a few matches, she said. Yes, she was right about the tennis, but Agent Nightfall somehow failed to mention a certain variety of factors, which happened to be the most important; ranging from an arsenal of underlings both on and off the court who shot plastic bullets at the pair; enhanced superhuman tennis players and a court that felt like a rollercoaster.
Maybe if he had practised his tennis skills and his observation skills more, Loid wouldn’t have been so exhausted. Maybe that was his mistake - he was losing his touch. Stop playing house, Fiona had said. Did she think his family- all part of Operation Stix of course- was making him soft? Was he becoming..soft? Twilight felt a deep, dead weight settle in his stomach. If only he had observed quicker, analysed quicker, been quicker with everything, he wouldn't have been so worn out to a point where he was unsure he could walk by himself. His grip on Bond’s leash tightened with a rush of self-irritation.
Pitiful.
“Loid?” Yor’s soft voice wrapped itself around him once again, jerking him from his self-pity. It was laced with so much warmth, Twilight almost collapsed right then and there in its comfort. She stood in front of him in all her effortless beauty, dark ruby eyes glittering wide with concern. How long had he spaced out for?
“Sorry Yor. I’m okay,” he murmured, still with his strained smile. “I'm just a little tired. From tennis.”
Yor opened her mouth to say something but eventually closed it. She didn’t look convinced, which was pretty expected. If he was in his right mind, Twilight would’ve done everything to prove himself, but he was so beat that he just shut his eyes and sighed. He couldn’t even fathom what he looked like to everyone - an exhausted shell of a man.
What a horrible performance.
Twilight’s eyes fluttered open when he felt something soft brush against his unsteady legs. Bond, seemingly nervous, kept butting his head into the spy and whining, until he decided to sit right up against Twilight’s legs. Instantly, he felt just the tiniest bit supported. Good dog, he thought to himself fondly.
Another fleeting touch dragged Loid’s flat, blue eyes to his hands, where he watched Yor’s nimble fingers gently loosen his vice grip on Bond’s leash. Her touch sent a shiver down his spine.
“Yor…?”
“Sorry, Loid. You look a little ill, so, um, we’re heading home. I hope that’s okay?”
Twilight was in no mood nor state to argue, so he nodded curtly, still transfixed on the lingering feeling of Yor’s hands on his.
He needed sleep.
Desperately.
“Papa, do you need help?” a little voice asked from below him. Twilight stiffly glanced down at his daughter, who sported her signature sweet smile. He couldn't help another onset of fondness escape through his voice.
“No thank you, Anya. I should be okay.”
Twilight hadn’t heard his voice convey that much of his real self in a long time. Shit. He was in a crisis, a dangerous one - too many of his repressed emotions were resurfacing. God forbid Agent Nightfall or Handler were here, he’d never hear the end of it. He’d probably be taken off the mission and transferred, maybe even become a liability and be forced to resign. What would his life be then without the one thing that gave him purpose? What would happen to the people now in his life, that inextinguishable light that they never failed to shine on him, despite all his shadowy flaws.
He would be nothing.
“Papa…” Anya’s little voice whimpered, her little fist tugging on his pants.
Twilight hadn’t even registered the Forgers leaving the park, until they were inside the warm apartment. He could feel their wary eyes on him as he staggered to the couch, the closest place for rest and rejuvenation. How they had gotten there, he had no clue, but he was so glad he was home he almost cried.
Yor followed him a little, nervously biting her lip. “Loid, um, would you like a tea or- or coffee?”
Twilight paused his advances towards the couch and opened his mouth to reply to his wife, but when his brain forgot how to speak, he shook his head. He tried his best to muster a grateful smile, but it might’ve just been a grimace. Sorry, Yor.
Finally setting himself on the couch, Twilight screwed his eyes shut and clenched his jaw. The ache of his body seemed to blaze to life in his single second of relaxation, and it took everything in his power not to groan out in pain. Twilight and Relaxation did not go well together it seemed, but neither did Twilight and Exhaustion anymore.
The sound of shuffling and a light pressure on the seat next to him, made Twilight force his eyes open. He tilted his head to lock eyes with his green-eyed menace of a daughter who he would do anything for. Her eyes darted around anxiously on the sheet she held in her hands, too scared to meet his.
This couldn’t be good.
“Um…Papa?”
“Yes, Anya?” He hated how his voice croaked.
“…Anya has, um, homework?”
He knew before he asked. “…And when is it due, Anya?”
“Tomorrow…?”
Twilight was sure this next level of fatigue would kill him point blank. It was so heavy he felt like he was suffocating in the depths of the ocean. The homework was going to be easy, but his mind was so overworked that the whole process of teaching it to Anya was going to take twice as long as it would normally take - and it normally took long.
In a blink and a slash of air, Yor suddenly appeared before the two her hands clenched in front of her, eyes wide and determined. Twilight blinked a few times, before choosing to overlook the speed of her movement for various reasons (he was tired).
“Anya! I can help you with your homework! Loid needs his rest.”
Anya’s eyes flickered between the two, resting on Twilight for longer, obviously assessing his poor state. Her brows furrowed as she chewed her lip.
“But Mama, it’s Maths…”
The silence that followed was almost comical. Of course it was maths.
“It’s okay Yor, I can help Anya. Why don’t you get some rest? I’m sure you had a long day.”
“No, really Loid. I can help! You’ve had a long day too. At least - uh, let me cheer you guys on!”
Twilight smiled defeatedly and nodded, earning a bright grin from Yor. Slowly getting up from the couch, he lurched towards the table, experiencing about 10 micro-sleeps every time he blinked. Yes he was exhausted, but he needed to do one redeemable thing for himself.
Twilight was a man of many faces, and he fulfilled each role dutifully. Doing maths homework with his daughter, alongside his wife, was no exception.
Once Anya was sitting beside him, Loid squinted at the worksheet in front of him, trying to decipher the words and numbers through his blurred vision. He needed his glasses, but everything seemed like such an effort. He glanced at Anya, sitting silently still for once, eyes constantly scanning over her father as she watched him zone in and out of focus. Being the perfect father seemed off the table today. Yet he wanted to aim for decent, at least.
Loid tutted irritatedly, and pinched himself hard in order to clear his mind. It wasn’t really an effective method, but waiting for the caffeine in a coffee he’d have to make would take too long. Thankfully, he felt some relief from the burst of pain, as his eyes managed to stay open without shutting immediately.
“Let’s do this.”
The pair, along with Yor’s encouragement, managed to blaze through the worksheet, which thank God, was only one sheet compared to five. Anya remained quiet and thoughtful, apparently taking in all the explanations Loid offered with zero interruptions. He wasn’t sure she one hundred percent understood him, but he made a note to go more in depth about this topic with her for revision. Anya seemed to know what she was doing when she answered the bunch of questions, but he still had to correct them to make sure.
“Okay, go get ready for bed while I mark these,” Loid instructed wearily, watching in envy as Anya cheered and skipped to the bathroom. He wanted to get ready for bed too, but alas, he was here, at the table, marking maths homework.
Loid sighed and looked down at the sheet, but flinched when a presence appeared behind him and whispered, “do you need any help, Loid?”
Her honey-like voice soothed him in such a profound manner that it needed to be studied. How could words so simple as that, ones that had been repeated to him in vain multiple times, manage to soothe his turbulent soul and reconsider everything. How did she have so much power? He turned his head to meet her precious ruby eyes, shocked to see her face right by his left ear. The man made no move to incriminate his flushed face, and instead, nodded.
“Yes please, Yor.”
She beamed at him, moving gracefully to sit in the chair beside him, patiently waiting for his request. Loid tried to smile back at her as he reached over and grabbed the folder of Anya’s homework, which in the process of getting her newer sheet, she had messed up his intricate system of organisation.
“Yor, if it’s not too much of a hassle…could you just reorganise this, please? I think Anya messed it up a little,” he added with a soft laugh. He was a little afraid it came across as a scoff, but thankfully Yor’s smile widened. Thank God.
“Of course!”
The two worked alongside each other in a comfortable silence. Loid found his body easing itself; the tightness in his arms and shoulders seemed to magically melt away, lulling him into a sense of calming relief. Even the throbbing bruise from the rubber bullet that had been shot at his shoulder dulled. Loid’s chin had gradually made its way to his palm, and this warm bubble of comfort had his shoulders slouching forward. Did Loid or Twilight slouch? Probably not - he was too tired to care. But, would Yor care though? She was so perfect and deserved the best, which definitely wasn’t an exhausted, slouchy husband like him.
Finally, after what felt like a losing war of attrition between him and his exhaustion, Loid’s eyes fell shut and a soft sigh escaped his lips.
—
“Papa! Anya’s ready for bed!”
Yor looked up to see Anya skipping down the hallway in her pyjamas, her small Chimera plush dragging alongside her on the floor. It was the girl’s trusty companion since Yor had first met her. Yor’s heart warmed at the sight, as it always did whenever she laid her eyes on Anya.
When the girl’s cheerful voice was met with silence, Yor grew concerned. She turned her head to look at Loid, whose face which was being held up by his palm was slightly turned away. Was he so focused that he didn’t hear his daughter? Yor wouldn’t be surprised; Loid had a tendency to get lost in thought. Especially now that he was tired. She found that despite the sharp, iciness of his blue eyes, they sometimes dulled whenever he was overworked. Which happened to be often, unfortunately. Yor hated seeing him so worn down.
“Loid?” She asked gently, placing a quivering hand on his shoulder, hoping to get his focus. She felt the muscle under her palm tighten slightly, almost like it winced.
A tug at her sweater made Yor look down at Anya, who was shaking her head vehemently. She brought a small finger to her lips, motioning her mother to stay silent, while using her other hand to get her to follow her. Yor nodded, placing a hand over her chest. As silently as they could, the pair tiptoed to Loid’s side of the table to investigate the unresponsive man.
Yor glanced down at her husband, frowning when strands of his blonde bangs hung over his face, obscuring his eyes. How was Loid’s focus so disciplined? Yor needed some tips from him.
“Mama, Papa’s sleeping,” Anya whispered from beside her. Yor blinked a couple of times, shocked. Even Anya seemed to look a little surprised. Loid? Sleeping? Those words were never in the same sentence. She crouched to inspect the man, whose shoulders were barely moving. Yor couldn’t even hear him breathe. Oh, God, she thought for a fleeting second, he’s dead. He certainly looked on the verge of death an hour or so ago; pallid skin, gaunt cheeks and dark circles. Nothing compared to Loid’s usual handsome appearance.
Yor felt her hand snake to Loid’s wrist, her fingers softly moving under the sleeve of his jacket to feel his pulse, which she thanked God, was beating strongly despite its slower pace. She chose to ignore the spark she felt from feeling his smooth skin. Yor let out a sigh she didn’t know she was holding in. She watched in strange amusement as the air travelled and shifted a few blonde strands, causing Loid’s eyebrows to crease the slightest bit. Cute.
Yor had never seen the man asleep. Even if Loid was beyond exhausted, he always made an effort to fall asleep in his room, rather than on the couch in front of everyone. Yor didn’t know if she wanted to look away, in order to respect Loid’s clear concern of falling asleep in front of them, or if she wanted to study for the first time in her life.
She wanted to study the way his long, blonde lashes curled against his cheeks, or the way his mouth was slightly parted, or even the way his blonde bangs looked so soft she had to fight every urge to touch them. Even though he was asleep, Loid maintained perfect posture - so much so, that if someone couldn’t see his face, they’d think he was still awake. The crease lines between his eyebrows, which he always wore when he was awake, seemed to ease, changing his taut face into a smoother, younger one - boyish. If Yor hadn’t known Loid, and saw this version of him in the street, she would consider him incredibly handsome - not that she didn’t already think that (because despite herself, he was undeniably handsome), but there was something so boyish and vulnerable about him that Yor couldn’t help feeling drawn to him. She wanted to keep this memory in her mind always - Loid without the stresses of the world.
"Mama’s thinking more than Papa now,” she thought she heard Anya fleetingly mumble to her Chimera.
Without even thinking, Yor gave into her fierce urges and carded through Loid’s hair, a small endearing smile gracing her face. She didn’t even realise Anya’s horrified face, or the fact that her daughter had dropped her Chimera plush on the floor out of pure shock.
Yor was only really concerned with one thing - that she was right. His hair was soft. She twirled her fingers around the strands as gently as she could, indulging herself a little too much. If she could do this forever, Yor would gladly give up almost everything in her life.
At Yor’s continued touch, Loid began to stir in his seat, until finally, his eyes peeled open and locked on with Yor and Anya’s wide-blown ones. He lifted his head tenderly, feeling as though there was a bit of weight on it, yet it was gone in a second.
Loid frowned a little when the two girls wouldn’t stop staring at him- did he have something on his face? He hoped it wasn’t a bit of blood from where he had scraped it saving Nightfall from being shot. Agent Twilight had made sure that his appearance after the match was impeccable (minus his terrible dark circles and pale complexion - that was too much effort to cover).
“Is everything okay?” He asked, a little huskily. Huskily? His voice only really sounded like that in the morning.
“Wh-, um- L-Loid, uhm,” Yor stammered, face so red her skin tone matched her eyes. That was not a good sign, at all. Loid was still somewhat cautious of Yor’s strength, which he had witnessed being used first hand against Yuri when he had embarrassed her. He leaned back instinctively.
Anya’s eyes swivelled between the two for a few seconds, until she decided to say, “Papa fell asleep.”
Loid laughed slightly at his daughter. Him? Asleep? In front of everyone? That had happened only once before at another exhaustive point in his life, and Anya still teased him about it. He was learning that that was what children did.
“Papa, Anya isn’t lying. That’s why you need sleep,” Anya said. She placed a hand on her hip and pointed one finger, gently poking Loid’s nose defiantly. He blinked slowly. “Starlight Anya says to get um, uh, 6? Yes, six hours of sleep right now. Or else Anya won’t go to school. Ever. Right Mama?”
Yor nodded emphatically, still a little red in the face.
Loid was too tired to feel dread at this ultimatum. So he gave into the demands of his daughter and wife with an instant ease that seemed to shock his family. Six hours of sleep seemed like a fantasy, and there was no way in hell Handler would ever allow it, considering the mountains of work still lined up for him. But in his haze, Loid realised that his daughter had given him the perfect excuse to sleep. Whether it was deliberate or just normal-child-like defiance, he had no clue. But he was gracious nonetheless. Handler would never deny a request that Anya made, if it meant affecting her position at Eden.
His daughter was so smart.
Loid smiled a genuine, warm and languid smile at his family before his eyes decided to shut themselves. His body had finally given up its fight. Distantly, he felt the soft touches of Yor’s hands on his shoulders and back, and Anya’s tugging on his pants, as they attempted to lift him out of his chair. Although Loid couldn’t help but grunt as Yor’s hand brushed against his bruised shoulder. He flinched, and almost lost his balance, but Yor’s hand steadied him at his waist as Anya trudged alongside his wobbling legs, leading him to the door of his bedroom.
“Will you be okay getting to your bed, Loid?” He heard her ask him, voice quiet and cottony. He could only make out Yor’s shining red eyes and her soft pink lips, while the smell of roses made him subconsciously tilt his head closer to hers. She could’ve said and done anything to him, and he would comply without hesitation.
Loid managed to nod, slowly releasing himself from his family so that he could clumsily open his door and stagger inside. They watched as he swayed to his bed and attempted to get under his sheets, which had a literal sheet of dust on top of the covers. Anya looked horrified.
Once in bed, Loid met eyes with Yor and Anya, smiled another genuine, half-delirious smile that had Yor almost slam the door shut, and gave a thumbs up.
“See you all tomorrow,” Loid practically slurred, eyes closing as soon as his head touched his pillow. Within seconds, the man was deeply asleep. Yor imagined Anya and her could stomp her feet and run around his room screaming and he would not wake up. Which was so unlike Loid it scared her. In fact, this whole situation was extremely alarming.
Yor knew Loid worked hard, at home and at his office in the hospital, but it made her heart ache that he over-worked himself to a point where he couldn’t even stand. She couldn’t stop thinking about the dark bags under his eyes (and his warm, heart-stopping smile) or the way he winced as she touched his tensed shoulder (or the softness of his blonde locks and skin). Her husband was formidable and independent, always ready to take on more work. Seeing him so weak and vulnerable made Yor’s feel guilty. Never again would she allow him to overwork himself to this point, even though it meant never seeing that smile again. However, she would see it again, but it would be in circumstances where Loid was well-rested and healthy. Yor vowed to step up her responsibilities, and would fight Loid if he insisted that he had everything under control.
Closing the door to Loid’s bedroom, Anya and Yor returned to the living room in silence. They stood at the entrance of the hallway, eyes and ears straining to hear any movement coming from his room.
“Papa is really weird when he’s sleep-deprived.”
Yor looked down and laughed warmly at Anya. “I agree. He was very weird indeed.”
The ebony-haired woman glanced back at Loid’s door and hummed in thought. Suddenly, she bent down to her daughter’s eye-level and grinned, holding out her pinky finger. “Anya, why don’t we make a pinky promise?”
Anya’s green eyes sparkled as she held out her own small pinky, smiling. “Yes.”
“Okay, hm. How about…let’s never let Loid overwork himself ever again, how’s that sound? Promise?”
“Promise!”
The two intertwined their pinkies and giggled.
Yor didn’t know everything about Loid, but she would do anything in her power to show him he didn’t need to do everything alone. She and Anya were here for him, because this was more to her than a marriage of convenience now - this was her family. Just like with Yuri, Yor would do and sacrifice anything to help and provide for them. She just hoped Loid would rely on her a bit more. Lovely, handsome, stubbornly selfless Loid. Loid with a smile so warm it melted her heart. Loid who looked like a peaceful Angel when asleep. Her Loid.
Yor gasped and shook her head, feeling her cheeks bloom with fire. She slapped a palm to each of her cheeks and screwed her eyes shut. Her Loid? He may be her family, but he was not her actual husband. What the hell am I thinking?.
“Mama needs sleep too,” Anya mumbled, stifling a yawn in between her sentence as she snuggled into her Chimera plushie.
“…I-I think we both do. Come on dear, let’s go to bed.”
—
When Twilight registered the sound of a phone ringing, he flew out of bed and bolted to the horribly loud and persistent telephone in a flash. He instantly regretted it.
“Where the hell have you been?” A voice hissed, fuelled with an anger that made Twilight start to sweat. He had only ever heard this anger in his training sessions - and he had nightmares about those.
“You’re not even speaking in ciphers,” he murmured in horror. Whatever she was angry about, it was bad.
“I asked you a question, Agent. I am waiting for an answer.”
Shit. He couldn’t even remember what happened. And what time was it? How long had he slept?
Slept? That’s right. He had gotten out of bed. He had been asleep. Was he drugged? He didn’t feel nauseated or dizzy, or any of the other side effects he normally felt when he got drugged. So how had he been knocked out so badly?
Twilight’s eyes darted to the clock on the wall and he almost passed away from a heart-attack. Steadying himself on the counter, he faintly remembered going for a walk with his fake-family, doing homework with Anya and then…he was asleep? What time was that at? If he had to guess, maybe 7pm? 8pm? The clock on the wall read 1pm the next day.
He was royally fucked.
“Agent, are you still there? So help me God, if you don’t answer me, I am coming to your house and sucker punching you. No excuse will save you, but just give me an answer so I know you’re safe and coherent. Please.”
Twilight sighed - no use in talking his way out of this one. “I’m safe, Handler…Anya demanded I sleep or else she would never attend Eden again.”
The line was silent for a few seconds, until Handler let out a soft laugh.
“Wow. That daughter of yours, she’s certainly something. She gets her manipulative powers from her father,” Sylvia teased, voice losing all its vitriol from before.
Twilight opened his mouth to say something, but fell short. He didn’t know how to respond to that. Admittedly, he felt a surge of pride for Anya after that, even if Handler was teasing him about it. He cleared his throat awkwardly, trying to ignore the swell in his heart.
"So…any missions today?”
Handler laughed again, mostly at his awkwardness. “Afraid not. I’m under strict instructions from your wife and daughter to give you a day off. They called me under the guise of a hospital receptionist, so I just forwarded their message to the hospital. No need for thanks. You’re off the hook today, so get some rest, Agent. ”
And with that, Handler hung up on him.
Without his handler’s voice, or the sound of the phone ringing, the house was quiet. He looked down at the counter and saw a little paper with a few scribbles that loosely resembled the phrase ‘Rest Well Papa!’. He caught himself smiling. Anya and Yor were out at school and work respectively, so that left him all alone with Bond, who was curled up asleep on his dog-bed.
Twilight could still feel the lingering effects of his sleep deprivation, but for the first time in a long time, his head felt clear and rested. He walked to the living-room window and opened it, instantly feeling a gentle, warm breeze drift in from outside. Letting out a small sigh, Twilight settled himself down on the couch. He lost the war with his exhaustion, but maybe that was a good thing. If he had continued depriving himself of sleep, who knows how badly he could’ve compromised his mission. Plus Handler was giving him an authorised day off, he would take it as a blessing.
Twilight yawned and glanced up at the clock again. Three more hours until both Yor and Anya got home. He laid out across the couch and closed his drooping eyes, drifting faster into unconsciousness with the warm caress of the breeze. The breeze was so comforting, it strangely reminded him of something he couldn’t quite remember properly. His brain was still fogged up, it seemed.
Maybe napping until Yor and Anya got home wouldn’t hurt.
Afterall, the man, the myth, the legend, Twilight, was still a human at the end of the day.