Chapter Text
“I just think since the baby is a girl, we should stick with traditional colors.”
“Not every girl likes pink.”
“Well, maybe you were just a weird girl, Camila.”
“What?!”
“We decided on the color theme thirty minutes ago. Why are we arguing about it again now?”
Simultaneously, both Millie and Camila’s sharp, angry gazes whip around on poor Twilight.
He raises his hands in surrender, takes a step back, and heads anywhere else in the room that is certainly not trying to piss off the two women arguing over a color they had already decided on.
It had mostly started with Camila stating that she was glad they weren't doing pink because it was old and outdated. Millie, on the other hand, said that pink was the perfect color for every girl. Camila disagreed entirely and it all went down from there. It was his first time even inserting himself in the - trivial - argument the past few minutes and obviously that was a bad idea.
After Yor’s little outburst towards him and her brother last week, he learned when it was probably best safe for him to shut up.
He knew that before, but more experience just helped him learn that there were many many many other situations where shutting up was the best thing for him to do.
Like Yor’s coworkers arguing.
They were…. Interesting women to say the least.
“Holy shit, you have great taste, Yor,” Millie comments, patting the mother of his child’s shoulder in a congratulatory manner that is confusing to Twilight as she walks through the door.
“Huh… Well, you definitely don't look as boring as your name sounds,” Camila says with a flip of her hair, following behind Millie.
Twilight, mildly confused, turns to Yor, who's heading out at the same time as them. “Care to explain what they're talking about?” he asks, feeling exhaustion overtake him already.
Yor laughs sheepishly as she grabs her purse off the stand in front of the door. “That… I'll explain it to you later.”
“Do you have to leave me with them?” Twilight asks, almost whining.
“I think it'll be a great bonding time for you to get to know them,” Yor tries to say in an attempt to assure him. “Besides, you need a few friends.”
“There’s Franky,” Twilight immediately says.
“Non-spy friends or those adjacent.”
“You want me to be friends with-” He lowers his voice. “Camila?”
“She's trying,” Yor insists. He isn't convinced. “She really is. So just… Try and get along with them, okay?”
He nods reluctantly and sighs. “Promise you'll be back soon?”
She leans forward and kisses his cheek gently, which he appreciates. “It’s just for the afternoon,” she says, patting his chest.
“Long enough to be compared to several decades long.”
“We need to spend less time together,” she replies with a laugh. “You've become too attached.”
He puts a hand against his heart mockingly. “You hurt me, my beloved Princess.”
She laughs once again and unfortunately, he's upset he won't hear it for a few hours. “I'll be back. Have fun with the girls.”
And fun was the last thing he was having.
Melinda had called to invite Yor out to lunch right before Camila and Millie had come over to go over plans with him. Although he was still a bit wary of Yor even hanging out with Melinda Desmond of all people, she seemed to brighten up immediately at the idea when she'd been in a bit of a sullen mood the past few days.
It’d only been thirty minutes, but it was a little weird to be on his own without her, especially with people he didn't know. It would have been more bearable - faster - had Camila and Millie actually focused instead of choosing to be affronted by every comment made.
(He was as well disgruntled that she left the apartment in a very nice, cream-colored turtleneck dress with a mock-neck cutout. Were she wearing that any other day, she barely would have made it a single foot out the door, but maybe he could try later once the house was clear of no arguing women.)
He sighed, simultaneously exhausted and annoyed as he went to the kitchen to pour himself a piping hot cup of black coffee. Black was all he needed to survive this current hellhole of party planning. It was a guest list of less than fifteen people. He wasn't even sure how they were arguing about a small get together in the first place.
Through a big, long sip, he hears the phone ring right near the kitchen and grabs it quickly to answer it. “Yes?”
“Oh, it's our dearest father-to-be.”
Immediately, Twilight wishes he hadn't picked it up. “Why the hell are you calling, Franky?” he grumbles into the phone.
“I'm calling because you haven't visited my stall in who-the-hell-knows-how-long because you're busy playing house with that pretty little human discarder of yours.”
“Her name is Yor,” Twilight emphasizes between his teeth. “Don’t call her otherwise.”
Franky cackles over the phone. “Oooh, someone is a little touchy, isn't he?”
“I would appreciate it if you'd talk about the mother of my child as if she is human,” Twilight clarifies.
“It's all jokes, man,” Franky says. “You'd think you're in an established relationship the way you get so touchy about her.”
“Sort-of,” he mumbles.
“Sort-of?”
“I think she admitted to liking me a few weeks ago,” Twilight mumbles, feeling stupid for even saying this. “I said I liked her too. I'm not sure if… We haven't talked about it.”
“.... How she hasn't kicked your ass to the curb yet is beyond me.”
Twilight grunts.
“Come visit my stall, you idiot. I'm bored.”
Twilight glances at Millie and Camila who are still arguing. “I'm a little busy right now,” he says, tone turning to full annoyance.
“I'm literally less than five minutes away from that little abode of yours! Come down!”
Twilight hangs up.
He places his coat on and his scarf around his neck, mentioning to Camila and Millie that he needed to step out for a few minutes, but they both wave him away. He's not sure they heard him at all.
Any other day, he wouldn't have just left them here while he was out, but all of Yor’s weapons and such had already been moved to the new apartment - locked up tightly - so there was nothing out of the ordinary that he couldn't leave them by themselves for a few short minutes. Then again, he didn't exactly trust them.
Trying to push his paranoia aside, he asks, “I’m stepping out for a few minutes to stop by the bakery down the street for dinner later. Would you ladies like anything?”
They stop for less than sixty seconds to tell him what they'd like before presuming their argument again.
Right before he steps out, there's a knock at his door, and when he opens it, there's Sharon, about forty-five minutes late.
She smirks as she hears the back and forth. “Running away from daddy baby shower duties?”
“Can you just…” He doesn't have it in him to pretend to be welcoming. “ Would you please just make sure a murder doesn't happen inside of here while I'm gone?” he says before sliding past her.
Sharon shrugs. “I'll just tell them to shut the fuck up if nothing else.”
“Miss Sharon, I would prefer any other method that does not result in the shedding of blood.”
“Yeah, yeah.” Sharon waves him off, kicking the door closed behind her with her foot.
As soon as he leaves, he hears her say, “Would you two please behave like the grown women you are and kindly shut the fuck up?”
He rubs the bridge of his nose tiredly with a loud sigh in the empty ball.
However, he lingers for a few seconds to listen out for the reaction and when he hears nothing else but the voice of Millie going, “That's not a very nice way to greet us, but I guess we can get back to it later.” That's when he's comfortable enough to leave.
Circling back to the conversation later would not be happening, but that was good enough for now.
When he makes it to Franky’s stand, he sits, and Franky cackles at him immediately. “Oh, domestic life exhausting for ya?”
“It's not domestic life,” Twilight insists.
“You're building a home and having a baby with a hot lady. That for sure constitutes as domestic,” Franky states, patting him on the shoulder.
Twilight brushes his hand off immediately, which Franky only lets out another howling laughter to. “Shut up.
“No, but seriously?” He takes out a box of cigarettes. “What's your issue? Not that you don't always have one in the first place.”
He shoots a glare at Franky, who is undettered, but answers, “Yor’s coworkers are planning her baby shower with me. They started arguing.”
“So?” Franky takes out a lighter. “Why didn't you just stop them?”
Twilight gives him a look.
Franky immediately goes, “Yeah, it was probably best for you to leave. You guys have got all day to go over baby stuff.”
“All day…” he mutters, rubbing the bridge of his nose.
His plan was to have them out of the house by two. Currently, it is twelve forty-five. He would still have to go back and finish some more planning with them unfortunately.
“Here, buddy-” Franky smirks as he hands him a cigarette. “You need it.”
Twilight pushes the cigarette away, frowning. “I don't smoke much anymore. It's not good for Yor to inhale or taste the smell of. It's dangerous for both her and the baby.”
Franky drops his hand. “Inhaling, I get, but how the hell would she taste-” His face twists into disgust. “Too much fucking information, man.”
Twilight, feeling a little mischievous despite his current annoyance, says, “How do you think the baby came to be?”
“I'm gonna ban you from my stand, man,” Franky hisses, pointing his unlit cigarette at him.
Twilight can't help but roll his eyes. “I’d be happier to leave.”
“Anyways, what the hell do you mean “sort-of” you idiot?!” Franky shouts, ignoring some of the looks that come their way from his outburst. “Either you're together or you're not together!”
“We haven't…” Twilight rubs the back of his neck. “-We haven't really talked about it since that night.”
“And how long ago was that night?” Franky asks, squinting his eyes at Twilight suspiciously.
“About two and a half weeks ago,” he answers straight, but he hears the tinge of hesitancy in his tone. “That's not that long ago.”
“It's long enough to know you're an idiot to go that long without talking about it!” Franky exclaims. “What are you? Thirty-five or something?”
“None of your business,” Twilight grunts.
“Either way, you're too old to be doing this shit, man. A whole baby on the way and you're not sure of the relationship status between you and the woman you knocked up?” Franky snorts as he puts his cigarette in his mouth and lights it. “Tighten up.”
“It was an accident in the first place,” Twilight tries to refute.
“And clearly neither of you see it as much of an accident since you're both on cloud nine about the whole idea now,” Franky says. “How the hell does she act? More intimate or some shit?”
“She's… she's the same as always,” Twilight says because how they act now wasn't too different before she told him she was pregnant. Admittedly, they've become a lot closer compared to before, but he still didn't think much of a difference existed.
(They've had more sex, but that was a completely separate situation.)
Franky eyes him. “You've gotta be kidding me, man.”
Twilight is annoyed. “Can you be clear about what you're trying to say, Franky?”
“I'm saying that you're supposedly at the top in that little company of yours and you can't even watch for how your woman behaves after literally saying that she likes you,” Franky explains quickly. He rolls his eyes. “Better?”
Twilight takes a bit of offense to that. “I watch her rather closely all the time. I noticed her changes before she told me she was pregnant.”
“So you didn't say anything?”
“Because it didn't matter to me before either of us had noticed she was pregnant. Why would I have?”
“So therefore you would notice she's a little different. Do you all hold hands, cuddle, or be all disgusting while you cook dinner and she rests?” Franky lists off.
“We… We already do that,” Twilight answers slowly, raising an eyebrow. It was truly nothing out of the ordinary for them.
“You already do all that? Seriously?” Franky, gobsmacked, takes his cigarette from his mouth. “Yeah, I'm going to need you get the fuck out of my face, man.”
“It’s because it isn't out of the ordinary for us. What do you expect me to answer?” Twilight asks him.
“I expect you to know the answer to whether you idiots are together or not!”
Twilight narrows his eyes. “Don't call her an idiot.”
“See how I called the both of you idiots and somehow you focused in on me calling her one? That little assassin has you wrapped around her finger,” Franky snorts.
Twilight stands, annoyed. “This is a highly useless conversation.”
“You're running away from the point!”
Twilight sighs. “And that is?”
“You like that woman so much that you're doubting how she feels about you when she explicitly told you,” Franky huffs.
“I never said I doubted how she felt… That we just haven't talked about it.”
“Same thing.” He waves the hand with the cigarette in it dismissively. “Where is she anyways? You barely leave her side these days while you still won't let me meet her.”
“I never said you couldn't meet her. Fiona has met her.”
Franky gasps. “Before me?!”
“... Don't be dramatic. Just come over one of these days.” He leans back. “And she's with Melinda Desmond.”
Franky quirks an eyebrow. “Desmond? Like Donovan Desmond?”
Twilight nods.
“Holy shit! Isn't that guy like… a war criminal or something?! What's she doing hanging with his wife?!”
“Yor became friends with her at the hospital at one of their appointments.” Twilight frowns. “She seems to like her, so I didn't want to ruin the opportunity she had to make friends with a woman who seems to get what she's going through right now, but…” He crosses his arm. “I don't think I trust her.”
He is aware it's insane to say about a pregnant woman, but this was a woman married to Donovan Desmond of all people. He had told Yor that he was nothing of concern as of right now, but he had been hearing his name a lot more in conversation at headquarters these days and part of him felt like the little interest they had in him right now would soon turn him into an important person of interest.
“Melinda Desmond will be giving birth soon, I'm sure.” Twilight fiddles with his watch. “So that may separate them for a while, but I'm just… extremely wary about it.”
“So do your spy thing.” Franky shrugs. “Look at her files. Do a background check. See if she's clean, research the relationship between her and her husband, or if she supports anything her husband does. Her home life. All that shit and stuff you fancy spies do.”
“I…” He swallows. “ That is the problem. I promised her I wouldn't do that."
Franky can only cross his arms and sigh in what sounds like disappointment this time. “You really are pathetically into a lady who could probably kill you in her sleep.”
“She has a name.”
“Yolanda or somethin’, right?” Franky says.
“Yor,” Twilight corrects.
“Right.” Franky chuckles. “Listen, do what you want, man, but you can never be too safe around those types.”
“Yeah…” Twilight mumbles.
He was itching to look her up. Learn more about her. Pulling her file at least was the most he would do to comfort the paranoia he was experiencing about it, but he felt as if he was disrespecting Yor’s wishes when she had explicitly told him to leave it alone.
He was about to become a father. If Donovan Desmond became a bigger concern to WISE, he didn't plan on pursuing it. There were many other capable spies who could do what he did. He wasn't going to involve himself by any means, but checking Melinda's file couldn't hurt.
It was for the safety of his family.
“I'll pull her file tomorrow,” he finally decides, punching down the guilt that was already developing in his chest.
Safety precautions.
That's all it was.
…..
Twilight, much to his annoyance, still had to stop by the bakery after his talk with Franky to bring back the drinks and sweets he'd promised Camila and Millie. He brought back extra for Sharon plus Yor whenever she would make it back home.
(He had to stop himself from thinking about his decision as he picked out her favorite desserts.)
Thankfully, when he entered the house, the two women were no longer arguing and were actually huddled together with a clipboard and two manila folders sitting on the coffee table, open. Sharon was to the side in a chair, boredly flipping through the TV.
Not a single woman in the room acknowledged him, so he loudly clears his throat and suddenly, there's noise.
Too much noise.
“Oh, look who's back!” Millie chirps, placing her clipboard in her lap.
“Took you long enough,” Camila said with a roll of her eyes.
“You got apple tarts in there?” Sharon asked, pointing to the box of baked goods with the remote.
Twilight raises an eyebrow. “How did you know?”
Sharon shrugged. “I didn't. I wanted one and simply asked.”
He places the box and the drink carrier containing their drinks on the table and says with a faux smile, "Please enjoy.” He puts the other box on the corner of the counter for safekeeping.
Still paranoid, though, he does a quick sweep of the house to make sure nothing is out of the ordinary or out of place. He checks for bugs as well and when he can't find anything, he relaxes.
It's not until Camila and Millie wave him over that he realizes they actually did get some things done in the twenty-one minutes he was gone.
Millie takes her straw out of her mouth. “Loid, come sit down.” She pats the empty space between her and Camila.
He's hesitant to move. “I would rather sit over-”
“Sit down,” Camila repeats, annoyance laced all over her tone as she scribbles something down on the clipboard. “We're not going to sink our womanly claws into you or anything.”
That is not my concern, Twilight thinks with an inward sigh, but he relents and takes a careful seat between them in spite of his comfortability.
“Alright, we came up with a list of things that you just have to really say ‘yes’ or ‘no’ on,” Millie starts to explain as she places her drink on the table. She grabs her own clipboard. “I also have the potential guest list, which is not a guest list at all besides the three of us because we have no idea who else it is that Yor knows.” She pauses, looking up and down at him. Then, she shrugs. “And you, I guess. Anywho-”
Camila takes over. “The venue can either be at my house as I offered since there's plenty of room or if that new apartment of yours is ready for guests. However, a third option is renting, but Yor mentioned wanting it more private and intimate, so I assume somewhere she'd be comfortable is the best decision.”
“And you're going to have to choose that first because that really is how we solidify the rest of our plans like food and such.” Millie leans in, eyeing him, and Twilight leans back uncomfortably. “I heard you like to cook.”
“Millie, please. Why would he cook for his own baby’s shower?” Sharon said, eyes still glued onto some ridiculous crime drama she was watching.
Millie whips around on her. “Because some people prefer homemade food and like budget cuts! I was just asking! Besides-” She flips back around to Twilight. “You seem like a homemade type of guy.”
Camila leans over to look at Millie, the annoyance usually displayed on her face gone for once as she joins the conversation. “Doesn't he? Everything about him just screams golden retriever kind of guy, doesn't it?”
“Right!” Millie exclaims, shaking her head vigorously.
Sharon silently nods in agreement, eyes still glued on the TV.
Twilight has to keep from standing up and just walking out of the room. He's tried to keep a facade up with them for some time today, but he felt himself slowly unwinding. He felt as if his mask slipped off with ease often these days. Maybe he needed to retrain himself.
“Which is why I brought up the homemade food. Yes or no, Loid?” Millie asks him.
“I… Catering is perfectly fine,” he answers with a smile so perfect that neither woman notices the slight hardness that slipped into his voice.
“Good because it would suck if you didn't get to relax next to Yor.” Millie nods triumphantly.
“This is all about her. How I feel matters very little.”
Sharon speaks up, still looking at the TV. “Give me a break.”
Millie’s mouth forms an ‘o.’ “Oh, this is what she was talking about.”
“God, maybe you're too much of a nice guy.”
Millie takes out a sheet of blank paper from her clipboard and forcefully pushes it into his hands. “Actually, you just tell us her favorite foods and we'll handle it from here and decide on the place, okay?” she chirps.
“Do I have a say in any of this?” he finally asks them.
“Well, if you didn't, we wouldn't be asking for your detailed input,” Camila said as if it were obvious.
“Input?”
“Detailed input,” Camila corrects him. “Be honest about it. We take that into consideration for the decisions we make. We know how important it is to you that Yor is happy.”
Twilight, writing on the clip board, says, “That would be preferable if she is.”
“Great. Now for the guest list, list off who will be there, so we can have an estimate for how much food we'll need,” Millie says.
“And don't leave anyone out because if you do, that's going to mess up our estimate,” Camila says. “And frankly, it would piss me off.”
He smiles tightly. “I will make sure to list off everyone as needed, Miss Camila.”
Millie giggles from her next to him. “He's so formal,” she says, but more so to herself.
Twilight starts to count down in his head from two-hundred.
Camila taps his shoulder with a pen. “List.”
His sinking smile curves back up. “Well, I'm sure you beautiful ladies will be there.”
“How flattering,” Sharon snorts.
Millie laughs. “Well, we are planning it.”
“Of course,” Camila says, flicking her hair behind her shoulder.
He'd never had such mixed reactions from a statement as such, but perhaps that was for the better. He continues on:
“Three of my coworkers will be in attendance. Recently, Yor has made a new friend too, so I'm sure she will be in attendance as well,” he explains.
Although, preferably, he wasn't sure he wanted Melinda around, but once again: Yor’s happiness over his own was always more important.
“Is that it?” Camila raises an eyebrow. “Wow, it really is going to be intimate.”
“You're just saying that because your guest list would have been over one hundred people,” Millie comments with a roll of her eyes.
Camila’s head snaps to Millie, anger on her face. “And just what is wrong with that?”
“Nothing. I'm just saying because you love attention.”
“That is not true!”
Sharon snorts. “To you maybe.”
Her head whips around to Sharon. “Whose side are you on?!”
Twilight had made it from counting down from two hundred in his head down to fifty rather quickly. “Ladies, let's calm down,” he tries in meditation.
“No!” Camila refuses. “She just called me an attention-seeker!”
Millie furrows her eyebrows. “I did not say that!”
“You definitely did,” Sharon comments, still glued to the TV show.
“Miss Sharon, please do not instigate,” Twilight grits between his teeth in a voice as kindly as he can.
“Saying that I like attention so I would have had more guests is calling me an attention-seeker!”
“You don't even have any babies to get mad about this for!”
“I don't have to have any babies for you to call me an attention-seeker!”
“You put those words in my mouth! I never called you an attention-seeker!”
You most definitely implied it, Twilight thinks, his eye twitching. It's why we're here in the first place.
“Ladies-”
Camila stands. "You're calling me an attention-seeker, but if I pointed out you have a bad dye job, you'd be mad!”
Twilight drags a hand down his face.
Millie gasps as she stands. “I-I don't have a bad dye job!”
“See, I never said you did. I said you'd be mad if I did say that.”
Millie points at her. “You just did!”
“Just like you called me an attention-seeker!”
“Ladies-” Twilight tries again, but his voice is drowned out between their arguing.
He finishes counting down to 1 and when he does, his reaction is actually much better than he had counted for. He’s semi-thankful that he used to be in the military because he stands and shouts, “Ladies!” in a voice that makes both girls freeze in their spots.
And when they all focus on him, Sharon included, more so with an impressed look on her face, he smiles so widely that his cheeks hurt.
“We are here to plan a baby shower. Not fight. If you can't work together for several minutes without fighting, then I recommend you leave. If you would like to continue planning, then let us continue peacefully,” he grits through his teeth.
Slowly, both women sit down as they stare up at him.
Twilight’s smile widens further. “I see you ladies made a lovely decision, so let's continue, shall we?”
Camila clears her throat. “O-Of course,” she says.
Millie nods, pouting. “That's fine.”
Sharon turns back to the TV.
Twilight sits back down. “So let's finish the guest list, shall we?”
Camila grabs the clipboard. “Sure, but one thing-”
He looks at her, smile still intact. “Yes, Miss Camila?”
She matches him with her own smile. “Don't ever yell at us like that again.”
Twilight doesn't back down, but something tells him to simply just nod and agree. “... I will keep that in mind, Miss Camila.”
“Hey,” Millie says, squinting at the guest list. “I just realized… Doesn't Yor have a brother?”
“Yes, why?”
“Because you didn't mention him on the guest list.”
He had forgotten him and was it done on purpose? Of course not, but he was a little disappointed that someone had remembered. “Please write his name down.”
They continue in silence that's rather comfortable after they get to finally going over everything without anymore arguing or short breaks. By the time, they finish, most things are in order, so making calls and gathering all the supplies they needed was on the list next, but Camila and Millie insisted that they had it because as the father, he shouldn't really be doing much at all, but they would inform him of everything down the line.
Sharon didn't do much besides watch TV, but she did add in her input here and there if needed.
By the time he's bidding them all goodbye, he is mentally and physically exhausted.
Retraining didn't sound too ridiculous the more he thought about it.
“And don't forget that we have another meeting at the end of the week,” Millie reminds him as she steps outside the door.
Unfortunately, he thinks.
“He gets it, Millie,” Sharon says with a sigh. She looks at him and sends him a small smile. “Congratulations on the baby. We look forward to celebrating with you soon.”
Camila doesn't say anything, but she nods in agreement.
“Have a good night, ladies,” is all he manages to say as he closes the door behind them and hears their voices drift down the hall.
“Yor has great taste, doesn't she?”
“He's alright. He's good for making plans, I guess.”
“Get the stick out of your ass, Camila.”
He throws himself on the couch, turning to his back and staring up at the ceiling, tired from today's events. He holds his wrist up to look at the time.
Three-sixteen, he thinks, realizing they'd taken longer than he'd plan. Yor wasn't back yet either, so he waits for her to come home, and it's almost five o’clock when she does.
He leans against the wall as she comes in, smiling tiredly at her. “Hey, Princess.”
Yor stares at him for several seconds silently and then she laughs.
She laughs as she reaches up to press a warm hand against his cheek. “Was it that bad?” Yor asks him, wiping a manicured thumb under his cheek.
“They're… a lot,” is all he's able to say. He reaches up to wrap an arm around her waist and tugs her as close as he is able to. “Did you have fun?”
Her eyes light up immediately, beaming. “I did! Melinda is so wonderful,” she states. “It's like having someone who understands me for once, you know?”
He ignores the wave of guilt building up again and instead replies in a mock sad voice, “What about me?”
“You’re without question. You know that.” Yor laughs while dragging her hand from his face down to his chest. “I know you'll always understand me.”
Instead of replying to her statement, he says, “I'm glad you're becoming good friends with her.”
She smiles up at him. “You're coming around to her, aren't you?”
“Of course.” He swallows. “She makes you happy. That's all that matters.”
And for a whole night, those words from his mouth makes him reconsider his earlier decision, yet he still takes Melinda's file when it comes across his desk the next morning.