6Disclaimer: I do not own the Spy x Family series or its characters.
"Papa," Anya announced loudly as she walked into her home, "Damian Desmond is coming over for dinner tonight, so please don't let mama cook."
Loid put down the newspaper he was reading and Yor poked her head out of the kitchen.
"What did you say, Anya?" Loid asked.
"Damian. My… friend." Anya fidgeted with her school uniform, her fingers grasping at the fabric so they had something to do. "I invited him to our house for dinner because I want him to be with our family. Our normal family. With our small table and home cooked meals. I don't think Damian's ever had that."
In Loid's mind, he agreed with Anya that the boy had probably never experienced a typical household like the one he and Yor had built, but he was also considering the dangers of bringing a Desmond into their home base.
"Papa, what would you do if Mama was… sad?" Anya asked nervously as she took a seat on the couch across from her father.
Yor walked into the living room and sat next to her daughter. "I'm not feeling sad, Anya," she reassured. "Where is this coming from?"
"But… but if you were," Anya turned to her mother, her tone turned more desperate. "If you had sad… bad sad thoughts of doing bad things to yourself and- and- wanting to hurt yourself and…"
There was a burning smell coming from the kitchen and the three of them turned to the sight of the stove on fire.
Calmly, Loid told Yor to handle the fire, while he handled Anya. He knew this was more than just a hypothetical.
Once Yor was back in the kitchen disposing of whatever she had attempted to cook this time, Loid focused his full attention on his daughter.
"I care about your mother very much and I would do anything in the world to keep her happy and for her to never have any sad thoughts." Loid hesitated, trying to find the right words to explain to his daughter, "But sometimes, people get sad and they have those sad thoughts because their brain can't help it."
"It- it can't?"
"Of course it's normal for people to have sad thoughts once in a while, but the ones you described of someone wanting to hurt themselves… Those aren't normal, Anya. And people like that need help and support."
"He- What if they said that they didn't mean it? Those bad sad thoughts? They didn't really want to hurt themselves. But they still- I mean they said that they thought about it."
"People don't just normally think about hurting themselves, Anya."
Anya let out a shuddery breath, her chin dropping down to her chest, and she dropped the façade. "How do I help him, Papa?"
"We welcome him to our home for dinner and we make sure that he knows that he has a support system. That he has friends he can count on and talk to when he has those bad sad thoughts."
"And tomorrow?" Anya asked. "What do we do if those bad sad thoughts come back?"
"There are a few ways people try to handle those bad sad thoughts. Sometimes medication is prescribed to fight away the thoughts that are especially strong. Therapy is another way to get professional help fighting those nasty feelings. But the best thing you can do is just be yourself around him. Make sure he knows that you're there for him."
"It's his father, Papa." Anya gritted her teeth. "Donovan Desmond is making him feel these things."
"You may be right, Anya, but I don't think there's anything we can do about that right now."
"It's not fair!" Anya leapt off the couch to sit on the edge of the worn one-seater that Loid occupied and gave her father a hug from the side. "He would be better off here with us. I wish he could stay with us forever. I wish you were his papa too."
Loid let out a small huff and smiled softly. "Now wouldn't that be something."
"I'm glad you're my papa, Papa."
"I'm glad you're my daughter, Anya."
After the father-daughter talk, Anya had raced out of their home to pick up the large pizza Loid had immediately ordered at the sight of Yor in the kitchen. With the pizza on its way, they had just enough time to put together a homemade salad and a small dessert for their family to enjoy.
While Anya was out of the house, Loid walked behind his wife who was scrubbing ferociously and quite desperately at a blackened pot that had burnt food stuck to it for the third time that week.
He wrapped his arms around her waist and gently placed his chin on her shoulder so he could watch her try to erase the damning evidence of her cooking mishap.
"Loid, what was that all about?" Yor whispered intimately to her husband, even though there was no one else in sight.
Nuzzling his cheek softly against her ear, he said, "I suppose Anya has finally taken an interest in my career."
"Hmm? Which one?"
Loid chuckled, his laugh vibrating against her neck. "Psychiatrist."
"Oh, wouldn't it be wonderful if Anya followed in your fake footsteps, Loid? It means you inspire her!"
Loid hummed nonchalantly, his answer neither a yes nor a no. While it was better for Anya to be inspired by the role he had to play as a psychiatrist and not by the spy side of his life, he would much rather she found a role-model and inspiration in someone more… virtuous.
When a large chunk of burnt to a crisp zucchini came flying off of the pan, he smirked and placed a small kiss to the underside of Yor's chin, making his way down the side of her neck.
"Mhmm, Loid," she sighed softly. "Anya will be back soon."
"I know, I know," the blond murmured, but the kisses never stopped.
Loid and Yor were becoming more and more affectionate as they grew closer, but they still tried to maintain their normal relations in front of Anya. However, as the days passed, that secret was also getting harder and harder to keep.
Although, Loid suspected Anya might know a little something about their growing affections. He clearly remembered coming home to Anya's all-knowing smirk after the first time he and Yor kissed, even though Anya was nowhere near the place where it happened.
Loid figured she may have noticed it from his goofy (totally not Twilight) smile because he was not able to think about anything else that day, no matter how hard he tried.
Anya was very intuitive in that sense. It was almost like she could tell what another person was thinking and be able to say the right thing, even when the person didn't know what it was they truly wanted to hear.
That was why Loid believed Anya whole-heartedly when she told him about her concerns for the Desmond boy.
Her… boyfriend, Loid shuddered at the thought. Anya and Damian could try and hide their relationship all they wanted, but a father always knew. Especially a father who specialized in espionage. He wanted to protect his daughter from the danger of teenage boys, but if the teenage boy made his daughter happy and he truly did care for her, which Loid knew for a fact was true, it was something he would have to live with.
And if Anya believed that Damian was in trouble from himself, then he would do anything in his power to help him.
After all, Loid's true mission was to create a world where no children had to cry.
And that was one mission he would never fail.
Once dinner time came around, the Forger family heard the sharp ring of the doorbell at exactly the time Damian promised to come.
The boy stepped into the warm home with a bottle of wine for the Forger patriarch and a lovely bouquet of flowers for the Forger matriarch. And for the Forger mind-reader he brought… an awkward wave, a light blush (with no eye contact), and a mumbled 'thanks for inviting me to your home.'
While Yor and Anya worked on setting up the dinner table and lighting candles to mask the scent of the earlier kitchen nightmare, Loid and Damian sat in the living room.
The two men were silent for a few moments and Anya strained to listen in on their conversation.
"My daughter has told me a lot about you." Loid studied the Desmond boy, noting his nervous mannerisms and body language. "She seems to think very highly of you."
"Yes, Anya and I are good… friends and we get along well."
Loid raised a single eyebrow, immediately notifying the boy that he saw right through that bluff. Friends. Right.
"Er," Damian blushed a light pink. "She's very important to me."
Not saying another word, Loid reached into his pocket and pulled out a small piece of paper in the shape of a business card.
"This is the phone number for one of my colleagues. He's been trained in child psychology and he's helped many children like yourself," Loid spoke matter-of-factly, not beating around the bush for a second. "I think it would be helpful for you to see a specialist and I assure you he's one of the best."
In his mind, Loid explained that the number was for a therapist that helped kid spies who were orphaned at a young age work through their PTSD and trauma. Something Loid, with the help of Yor, had only recently realized he had a lot of.
Anya, still eavesdropping, realized, with eyebrows raised and mouth opened to an 'O', that, The man was a spy and a psychiatrist… A true spy-chiatrist!
"Thank you, sir," Damian took the card out of courtesy to the older man. "But I don't need this."
"It's not weak to need someone, you know."
Damian's eyes widened as he took in the secret spy's blunt and honest statement.
"It's certainly not weak to ask for help. In fact, I would say it takes more courage to admit the truth than hide in your own misery. What do you think, Damian?"
"I… I don't know."
"I understand," Loid assured, "I wasn't strong enough either at first. And strength can build up little by little. It may take some time to understand."
Yor popped her head into the living room and smiled. "Dinner's set on the table! Let's eat!"
At the sight of his wife, Loid's face brightened and his expression softened all at once. When she had left to go back to the other room, Loid turned back to Damian. "Telling my wife the truth took the most strength I had, but it was also the easiest and most freeing thing in the world."
The truth of what? Damian thought, but he felt as if it truly didn't matter. Obviously the truth couldn't have been that bad if Mr. and Mrs. Forger looked more in love than ever.
"Let's eat before the food gets cold," Loid stated.
They walked to the kitchen and Anya could see Damian's awe at the sight of their tiny table, where everyone could be in each other's space and actually enjoy the company of each other's presence.
Yor and Loid sat at one side and Damian and Anya at the other side across from the other couple.
Once the food was served (by themselves with no blank-faced servers watching them like hawks), the family began to dig into their meal.
While the chain-store pizza was delicious, Damian was more shocked by the homemade salad. He never had a salad where the lettuce was chopped so unevenly and the dressing to salad ratio was so completely off it was more like a soup.
"Oh, Damian," Yor smiled. "I hope you like the salad I made! Anya helped with the dressing."
Damian stabbed a forkful of the leafy green concoction and shoved it into his mouth. "It's delicious."
And he wasn't even lying.
Anya tried to hide the quirk of her lips into her dinner plate.
Her family had then began to recount their day, narrating what they did and anything interesting that happened. Once they all had a turn, they turned to Damian.
He looked surprised at the inquiry.
"You… you want to know about my day?"
"Of course, Damian!" Yor responded cheerfully.
"I… Oh. My day… my day... Well, I found out this morning that I was selected to represent Ostania at the National Debate Tournament."
The table was silent for a second before exploding into chaos all at once.
"Congratulations, Damia—" "WHY DIDN'T YOU TELL ME SOONER, SY-ON BOY?" "That's wonderful to hear, Damian!"
Overwhelmed by the support, Damian fidgeted and adjusted his collar, his face feeling a little too hot. "It's… it's not that big a deal," he muttered, "My older brother was apparently chosen when he was 15, so I'm just falling behind."
"Nonsense," Yor exclaimed. "This is a huge deal. You were chosen out of everyone in Ostania as the best debater! Remind me to never get into an argument with you."
Damian could have debated that Yor was debating with him right now over whether this news was anything to be excited over, but he didn't really mind letting the Forger matriarch win this round.
"That reminds me!" Yor clapped her hands together. "I put a cake in the oven!"
"Well, it's a good thing we have something to celebrate," Loid said. And a good thing we heard about it before the cake burned.
"I reminded Mama to put sugar in it instead of salt this time, so we should be good!"
"Eh?"
Feeling completely full and warm in a way Damian had not felt in a long time, he prepared to head back to his dormitory, the psychiatrist business card resting comfortably in his pocket.
"Papa, can Damian come to my room? I have a homework question for him."
"Homework, huh?"
Damian's eyes darted back and forth between father and child.
"Can he?" Anya asked again, squinting her eyes, as if having a private silent conversation with the blond man.
"Fine," Loid eventually answered after a few seconds of silent back-and-forth, "Just make sure to leave the door open."
"Thanks, Papa! Goodnight, Mama."
Anya grabbed Damian's hand and all but dragged him to her room, before closing the door.
"Er," Damian bashfully rubbed the back of his neck, never having been in a girl's room before. "Your father said to leave the door open."
Pointing to the sliver of light that shone between the door and frame, Anya cheekily remarked, "He said to leave it open, just not by how much."
Damian shuffled nervously until Anya giggled, "Don't worry, we're not doing anything risky. I just want to talk to you and I don't want Mama or Papa listening in."
"What did you want to talk about?"
Anya took a seat on the edge of the bed and gestured for Damian to do the same. Cautiously, the boy followed her lead and gingerly took a seat on the soft mattress beside her.
"I want to tell you my truth, Sy-on boy, because I want you to tell me your truth."
"My truth?"
She looked at him like she knew everything about him, but still wanted to know more.
"I… I don't know what you mean."
"Hmm," Anya nodded thoughtfully. "That's okay. You can tell me when you're ready."
Anya leaned into his side and fit her head on his shoulder. Wrapping an arm around him, she let both their bodies fall into the mattress so their upper half rested on the comfy bed and their legs dangled off the edge.
After a moment of comfortable quiet, Damian cleared his throat. "So, what's your truth?"
"I'm not ready to tell you everything yet," Anya answered honestly. "Because I don't want you to hate me."
I could never, ever hate you, Anya, sat at the tip of his tongue, but he couldn't get the words to come out.
The look on her face revealed that maybe Anya knew what he was going to say anyway.
She wiggled up so she could be on eye-level with Damian, using her arms to prop herself over him. One arm twisted into his sweater and the other arm was used to balance herself on the bed.
The young Desmond swallowed nervously at his close proximity to the pretty girl. This was probably (exactly) what Mr. Forger had hoped to prevent by warning Anya to keep the door open.
Damian felt skittish and jittery, but there was nowhere else he would rather be.
He didn't want to mess up his relationship with Anya like he did everything else. He wouldn't be a failure in her eyes. He refused to let down someone he loved and cherished more than anything else in the whole world. He couldn't be a disappointment. Not to her.
He could handle being a disappointment to his father, his mother, and his brother. He could even handle being a disappointment to Emile and Ewen (maybe). But not Anya Forger.
But if she ever learned the truth about him, about how he was a failure and a disappointment and a complete and utter mess, she would leave him in a heartbeat.
Anya tightened her grip on his royal blue turtleneck sweater that he had worn for the special occasion of dinner with his girlfriend's parents. The royal blue turtleneck that had cost the price of possibly all of Anya's wardrobe combined.
Oh, who was he kidding? Damian didn't give a damn about how many cashmere turtleneck sweaters Anya damaged if it kept her close to him.
"My truth?" Anya muttered, close to Damian's ear.
His whole body was on high-alert, his mind whirring frantically. Could Anya hear his heart beating out of his chest?
"Well, I'm adopted."
"…Huh?"
"Loid isn't my father by birth and Yor isn't my biological mother."
"So… so…" Damian wasn't really sure how to respond to that. She had the whole world convinced that Loid was her real father and Yor was her real mother. With the way they cared for her and doted on her. And the way they supported her and encouraged her.
It was surprising that they weren't real.
"They are my real parents though," Anya continued. "They've taken me in and they might not be my parents by blood, but they are my parents because they love me and they care about me. They come to my every match, every recital, and every spelling bee I'm sure to bomb in. They're there and that's what matters most. That's what makes them my parents. My mother and my father. My papa and my mama."
"I see," Damian said slowly. And after the family dinner he had, for the first time, Damian could actually understand what being loved by a mama and papa was like.
"I am Anya Forger and I will never be anything else ever again."
Damian smirked, a passing thought making him feel hopeful for the future. "Really?"
"Really," Anya confirmed with a nod. She gave him a quick kiss on the cheek before letting herself plop down right on top of the dark-haired boy.
With an exaggerated 'oof,' Damian allowed Anya to get comfortable with half her body weight draped on top of him before adjusting his arm to wrap around her waist and cuddle her in closer.
"You'll never be anything other than a Forger?" He asked, staring up at her bedroom ceiling. "Ever?"
"Don't worry, Damian," Anya said knowingly.
"Hmm?"
"When we get married," she nuzzled her cheek against his side, speaking very definitively, "You're going to be a Forger too."
"A Forger, huh?"
A forged identity, he thought to himself, but the most real family he's ever seen.
He felt Anya smile against his chest and his face warmed with a comfortable blush that he had learned just automatically came whenever Anya did anything remotely 'Anya.'
"Damian Forger," he mused. "It has a nice ring to it."
"I better be getting a nice ring too, Sy-on boy!"
"I haven't even asked you yet!"
Author's Note: I hope you enjoyed my fic! Reviews are always appreciated if you have time! :)
-Basil