Chapter Text
The first time Six met the twins, it was a babysitting job.
Cahill and Fitz had called him into her office, both looking a bit more grim than they usually did. His back straightened unintentionally.
“Six, sit down. Tell him why he’s here Fitz.”
Fitz sighed. “Okay. I’m raising my twin nephews. I know what business I’m in, I know the stakes. I want to give them a normal life, which Margaret has been helping with so far.”
“Any number of nefarious assholes would like to see him and his family dead,” she cut in, blowing smoke over her shoulder.
Six eyed the two. “Is there a point to this story?”
“Someone from DC accidentally leaked Fitz’ address in Hong Kong.”
“Idiots,” Fitz grumbled.
“Agreed. Now, we’ve asked for security, but funnily enough, Denny Carmichael won’t supply it. Fitz is starting a mission in Brazil tomorrow, which means you are on babysitting duty,” she smirked, leaning back in her chair to take another drag of her cigarette. Six looked between the two, a slight confusion overtaking him.
“You guys trained me to kill people. Not to care for them.”
“You don’t have to care for them, just. Keep them alive,” Cahill shrugged. Fitz leaned over to him, his eyebrows a little furrowed.
“My sister-in-law dropped off the face of the earth and left me with her twins about four months ago. My brother was a piece of shit, so they’re a little jumpy, but I’ve been making good progress with them. I need them to know that house is safe for them, Six. Can you do that for me?” Fitz was practically pleading with him. It felt a little weird to hear that tone from Fitz, as well as taking any job that didn’t require his knowledge as a killer but rather as a caretaker.
Six nodded, his shoulders weighing just a feather heavier at the thought of kids.
When Fitz said they were jumpy, Six was expecting scared little kids who would empty the room as soon as he walked in. Kids who kept to themselves, or even just quieter kids.
No. Six was dead wrong.
The second he was introduced to the twins, who were sitting together on one of their beds, he knew he was in for a hell of a job.
One of the kids--who he now knows as Colton--lit up like Christmas came early.
“A bodyguard? That’s so cool!” he shouted, jumping up from his place next to Ryland, who was doing his best to kill Six with his death glare.
“Do you know how to fight? Probably, huh, ‘cause you’re a bodyguard, ooh! Have you ever worked in one of those nightclubs where it’s like, all neon and loud? Do you have a gun? I bet you do. Can I see it? Can I hold it?” Colton rambled while jumping on the bed. Six took a glance out the window and braced his shoulders.
“Just the two exits, right?” he asked their nanny. She responded in the affirmative and left the room, probably to make lunch or clean something.
He turned back to Colton, who was still rambling, and Ryland, who was starting to curl into himself like a stray dog.
“Colton-” “-just Colt. Don’t call me Colton.” “-okay. Colt, I understand you have questions, but I can’t answer them if you keep talking.” He means to answer them; he does. He likes kids, and he’ll entertain this one as long as he can still do his job.
But whatever he said must have triggered something, because Colt stopped jumping and landed beside his brother, who had started snarling at him. Like a dog. Maybe the stray dog simile wasn’t that far off.
“Don’t talk to him like that,” Ryland glowered at him. Six isn’t even sure what he did, but Colt pats his brother’s back and smiles.
“Don’t worry Gracie, it’s fine. I’m sure he didn’t even mean it, right?” he turned to Six at that, staring wide-eyed and with a cautious smile. Six immediately nodded, and Colt relaxed.
“See? What’d I say?” he bragged to Ryland--Gracie?-- who turned his glare to his twin. Six internally sighed, because he didn’t really want to get into whatever these two had going on.
“Listen, I’ll stay out of your way, I’m just here to watch over the house while Fitz is out.”
“Where is he?” Ryland asks, getting off the bed and standing in front of Colt. It’s idiotic to think, because he knows they’re twins, but they really do look exactly alike. Ryland seems to squint at him a little more than Colt does, and Colt has a scar through one of his eyebrows, but they both have the same crooked nose, the same eye shape and color, even the way their hair is styled is identical. It’s uncanny.
“He’s out.”
“How long will he be gone?”
“Hard to say.”
“And you’re going to be here until he comes back?”
“That’s the idea.”
Ryland did not like that answer. He glared at Six for a moment longer before he huffed.
“Get out.”
Six is a government dog, and he knows an order when he hears one.
As he’s leaving the room, he could hear Colt start to whine at his brother. “But Ryyyylieeeee, I wanted to ask him more questions! Do you think he’s ever killed anyone? Or, maybe he’s built a bomb! It was probably better than yours--” He shut the door.
After about an hour of silence and occasional bouts of yelling from the twins, they emerged from their--it might have been one of theirs, but they seemed like they kept to each other as much as possible and would argue against a split--room.
For a moment, it seemed as if they were both going to go outside, the two of them holding hands and Ryland marching his way towards the doors.
Until Colt saw Six’s computer with the camera feeds pulled up. He ripped away from Ryland to bound over and bombard Six with questions.
“Can you see everything with those? Are those yours, like did you set them up? Or did Donald? What did you call him? Fitz? Do you think I can call him that too, I like it better than Donald, ‘cause that just reminds me of the duck, and he’s not really a duck kind of person. Are you tracking us? Are you like a spy too?”
Six couldn’t help but smile at the kid, who had started to crawl onto his back and look over his shoulder. He glanced back at the other twin, who was less than enthused.
Trying to hide from Six, Ryland quickly hid whatever emotion he was feeling on his face, and ran outside. Six was, however, a government sanctioned assassin and was trained to find those little things in people’s faces. Ryland seemed…betrayed, almost? He felt bad, but what was he supposed to do about it? He wasn’t going to deny Colt asking his questions or hanging around where he wanted to. This was his house afterall.
For the next twenty minutes, Six sat down with Colt in the dining room, which had direct eyesight of the backyard, and answered his questions. It was…fun. At least, Colt seemed to think so. Getting a captive audience to answer whatever question you had seemed like a good way to get to spend your time.
However, the questions were stopped by the sound of something large and ceramic shattering on the concrete outside. Six felt his stomach drop and was out the back door with his gun in hand before he was able to process that there was a potential angle he had missed in his inspection or a camera that went down and why didn’t he pay attention and Fitz is gonna kill me-
But he didn’t. He didn’t miss anything. There was no bad guy coming for the twins, no assassin sent to kill these kids. It was just Ryland, staring at Six with some defiant, rebellious look to his frown, standing over ceramic shards and dirt and flowers.
“Ry, are you okay?” Colt asked from behind him. At least he knew to let the bodyguard go first.
Ryland glowered at the both of them before he moved to the other pot, and shoved that over. It shattered just as loud as the first, and got dirt on Six’s shoes.
“Okay, Ryland, I’m not sure why you’re doing that, but please stop. I assume Fitz wouldn’t want you to break his stuff.”
Ryland only seemed to get angrier, and marched past Six back into the house, where he started knocking over chairs. Once those were all down, he came back out just to stare at Six. Mocking him. Six looked down to Colt, who seemed just as confused as he was, but with a hint of maybe acceptance.
He looked back to Ryland, who seemed to be waiting for some sort of recognition. For his…efforts.
“Can you pick those up please?”
“No.”
Okay. Now what.
“Is your nanny still here?”
“She has a walking group on Tuesdays. And she walks real slow.”
Alright, so now it is up to him. Six can feel his cortisol rising. He glances at Colt again, who is now looking up at him like he has the answers. Okay, how is he supposed to do this? He doesn’t want to discipline these kids at all, firstly because he doesn’t know these kids, and secondly, because Fitz might kill him.
Fitz said they were jumpy, skittish. He was a big fat liar.
Six took a deep breath in through his nose. “Kid, please. I’m working. All of this is on my neck. Can you please cooperate and just. Stop breaking things?” There. That was civil, that was nice.
And it worked? Ryland stared at him for a moment before going inside, shutting the sliding door behind him. Six dropped his shoulders a fraction, looking down at Colt who was staring really hard at the house.
“Is he always like this?” he asked, mostly just to calm the concerned look that crossed the kids face.
“No. Maybe he just doesn’t like you.” Well, that was a blow. He thought he was cool. Whatever.
Six sighed and started back up the porch, hand reaching for the door, already thinking of how he can increase his already increased security because that was quite a scare and-
The door was locked.
After being laughed at by Colt for a couple minutes, Six found a way inside. There were no spare keys, because no one else ever came here, and the house was properly secured, but Six found a way. He always did.
When they got inside, it was silent. Six and Colt looked at each other, Colt still snickering at his struggle and Six feeling world weary. They both started walking around the house, hoping to find Ryland and curb the sudden destructive behavior.
Six eventually found him in Fitz’ office. Which he was sure was locked.
Papers were spread around. The chair was overturned. The paintings he had on the wall were on the floor, and the few knick knacks he had on his desk were in pieces on the ground.
Six felt an unfamiliar feeling rising in his chest. It spread to his neck, then to his ears. This kid was destroying Fitz’ stuff. His only family’s stuff. Was it arrogance that was motivating him? Did he think he could do whatever he wanted? Or some other thing that only kids seemed to know?
Whatever it was, he couldn’t have it. He stalked forward, Ryland freezing from where he was digging, his shoulders raised around his ears. Six grabbed his jacket, essentially scruffing him.
“Okay, here’s what’s going to happen. You are going to go to your room, and stay there. I am going to clean up the mess you made, while also making sure you two are safe because I am a bodyguard right now. Got it?” It felt unusual, giving orders, but this kid was pushing him.
Ryland uncurled from where he was hanging in Six’s grasp and stuck his tongue out at him, but squirmed out of his grip and ran towards his room. The door slammed, leaving Six and Colt, who was looking after his brother despondently.
Six got to cleaning up the office immediately. Upon further inspection, the knick knacks weren’t broken, just dislodged. They just needed to be snapped back together. The paintings weren’t damaged at all, just on the floor. The papers, however, needed to be sorted, and Six didn’t think he was the man for the job. He wasn’t even sure he was meant to be looking at them.
He decided to just pile them up on Fitz’ desk and usher Colt out, locking the door behind him.
“Want to help pick up some dirt?” he asked Colt.
“Yeah!” he said, looking much too excited to be cleaning.
After an hour or two, and a rinse and change of clothes for Colt who insisted on playing in the dirt, they finished cleaning the dirt and shards, and picked up the kitchen chairs. While they cleaned, music started blaring from Ryland’s room. It grated on Six’s ears, and he wanted to go make the kid stop, but Colt was singing along so he suffered the noise.
They decided to eat some dinner, seeing as it was about 7 P.M. He didn’t really know how to cook, but luckily their nanny had some food pre-made in the fridge. Actually, there was a lot of pre-made food in the fridge.
“What, do you guys not eat home cooked meals?”
Colt looks confused for a second before he sees what Six is looking at.
“Oh, no, those are Rylie’s. He hasn’t been eating anything but those sandwiches, so our nanny just makes a bunch in case he gets hungry.”
Six sighs through his nose and sits at the table, already almost done with his food. Colt takes this as his cue to start talking again.
“I was watching this show, and the guy on it was like, on his motorcycle and doing really cool flips and tricks! He looked not really graceful though, he looked really rough, but if I was doing it I would be 100% better because I took gymnastics for a while, and I was pretty good.”
Six could tell. The kid had been practically crawling all over him that day, and was pretty lean with muscle.
“Why did you stop?”
Colt slouched down, his shoulders raised to his ears while he picked at his food. Six had the distinct feeling he put his foot in his mouth. It was silent for a moment before the kid spoke up.
“Dad thought it was too girly, I guess. He made me stop.”
He didn’t really know what to say to that, so they both sat in silence for a moment. It was broken by Colt looking up suddenly.
“Rylie isn’t bad.”
Immediately, Six wants to argue. That kid is the worst. Instead, he just raises an eyebrow.
“No?”
Colt shakes his head vehemently, his food long forgotten as he turns his body more towards Six.
“No. He’s not, swear. It’s just. Like, you’re new. And he doesn’t like new stuff, not like me. He was like this the first month here too. Plus, y’know. I mean.” Colt went silent, searching for his words like the wrong one will damn his brother.
Six is looking through the cameras, triple and quadruple checking, looking for all the world like he doesn’t care whether or not Colt continues.
Finally sighing, Colt speaks up. “What if Donald is like dad? I mean, they’re brothers, it would make sense. Ry is just trying to protect me. I think. That’s what he says anyways. I don’t really get it, because if he, like, keeps acting out like this, what if Donald thinks we’re too much? And he ditches us like mom?” The kid looked close to tears, but quickly scrubbed his face.
“But, I don’t know, he’s always been like that. When it’s just me and mom, he’ll be really nice, and he would make me and him food if mom had work, and-and he would only get a little mad if I broke his stuff, and he never let me take it from dad, y’know? He would always be shouting at dad and making him madder and make him stop focusing on me and mom.”
Colt turns and looks up the stairs, where the music is still blaring.
“He’s not bad. He’s just…smart, I think. Too smart.”
Six’s chest ached briefly with something that he thinks was guilt. His mouth went a little dry, and he cleared his throat to soothe it. He opened his mouth to…apologize? Reason? Maybe go up to Ryland and say we are alike. I know what you’re doing now, I’m sorry I didn’t see it sooner. I’m glad you didn’t have to kill your father.
Whatever he was going to say, it was cut off by all the cameras losing their signal.
“Why don’t you go to bed?”
Sensing the shift in Six’s energy, Colt only stared at him for a moment before taking his dishes to the kitchen. He opened the fridge to grab a sandwich for Ryland, and started walking towards their room. At the top of the stairs, he turned.
“Can I shoot your gun tomorrow?”
“...No.”
Colt smirked like he didn’t believe him and walked back into his room. The music stopped.
Six grabbed his flashlight and walked down the small staircase that separates the dining room and the living room, and as he approached the pillar, he heard the distinct clink of a gun safety being disengaged.
He waited until he saw the arm holding the pistol and struck, hitting the arm down, the gun going with it. He caught a fist to the face, retaliated with a punch to the intruder’s stomach. Six backed the man up to the pillar and swung at his face once, twice, thrice and he fell. He grabbed the gun, glad for the silencer, and shot the man through the heart.
There is blood on his knuckles, and the body fell into the shadow cast by the suddenly open kids’ door.
Six looked up, and Ryland and Colt were standing at the top of the stairs.
Ryland was staring at him. His eyes were calculating, like they could see into his very cells. Six understood, now. He was once like that. The more you know and understand of the world, the less there is to fear of it.
Colt, on the other hand, looked ill. Despite his questioning all day about how cool it was to be a bodyguard, he didn’t seem to understand that being in that line of work meant getting your hands dirty. He is glancing at the feet of the body.
They probably shouldn’t be looking at that. Six stepped forward, hiding the dead man’s feet from the boys.
“Why don’t you guys go to bed?”
They don’t respond. They continue to stare. They are holding hands.
Six opened his mouth to ask again, but Ryland pulled Colt away. They walked to their room and closed their door.
Six looks down at the body and sighs.