A/N::: No excuses =/ One of my longest, though =D

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Flamenco:

a style of dancing that is strongly rhythmic and involves vigorous actions, as clapping the hands and stamping the feet

Cammie POV

Eight months after child birth

"Zach!" I yell, beads of sweat dripping down my face. "Diaper ASAP! Matt just exploded in his pampers! I need a new diaper NOW!" I waited five seconds, only to be met with silence (and Matt's crying which is just as expected now) as I hold up his legs while Abby kept busy, putting on Pocahontas.

"Damn it Zach! Where are—" I stop, a diaper landing next to me with a plop. I wipe Matt's bottom quickly and thoroughly (what a cute butt he has!) to make sure he doesn't get a rash, changing his diaper in almost record timing and sitting him down next to his sister. I huff, glaring at Zach who just stood watching, chomping on an apple. "Could you have been any slower?" I mutter, keeping the tension out of my voice. My little ones could always tell when one of us was feeling angry/sad/stressed so we did our best to keep from upsetting them.

He bit into his apple thoughtfully, watching the scene where the young Indian on screen sings about the wind and colors and whatnot. He swallows, turning back to me. "I couldn't have come at all, you know."

"Then tell me again why you decided to take today off? If you're resolved in not helping?" I sigh, knowing I was wrong right away.

"Uh huh. Tell me again who let you sleep in until nine a.m. instead of waking up at six?" he smirked, even though his cheeks were full of apple. I couldn't help but laugh.

"Fair enough. So why exactly did you take the day off? I thought you said you were leading a team over the comms through a training exercise." I started picking up the stray toys, holding the awful smelling bag full of diaper and wipes at arm length and chucking it.

He shrugged, moving out of the way as I maneuvered through to the kitchen. "Jonas took over. Apparently I 'utterly and hopelessly fail in teamwork and respecting the billions of dollars worth of technology'. But I don't know what he's talking about. I'm Zach Goode. Everything I touch turns to gold." I snorted a laugh while he just stared at me. "What's so funny? Every mission I've led so far has been a success."

"When you're there," I emphasize, folding the strewn blankets. "Over comms though, you lose your patience if they're not quick enough, and you've yet to realize that they don't have the same vantage point as you do, when you get too into it. Plus, remember when you were helping Grant lead a team? He ended up with a bump the size of an ostrich egg on the back of his head, as well as a very pissed off Mrs. Newman." I laugh as he pales, rubbing his neck where Bex had wrapped her hands around. I got up, spying a dirty spaghetti-covered shirt peeking from behind the T.V.

"I'm not that bad," Zach muttered, throwing the apple core over his shoulder where it landed in the trash with a loud thump. He smirked at his triumphant. I just roll my eyes.

"Zach, even the Chief agreed."

"What? Since when?"

"Since you returned, claiming you had a day off. They just took you out as a nice way of saying 'You suck' since you're one of the top agents with a tempered flaw." I throw the shirt in the basket next to the couch as the T.V. drones on, Zach hypnotized as he sits, ignoring the verbal jab. But when I pass by, heading for a pair of mini pink converse (Macey had insisted), I'm pulled down so quickly I let out a yelp, landing in Zach's lap.

"Why don't you take a day off, Cam?" he whispers in my ear. I roll my eyes, ignoring the wave of goose bumps covering my skin.

"Being a mom isn't something I can take a day off from. Being a mom takes up all my time. Why do you think most couples wait until—" he cuts me off abruptly, his lips covering mine in a sweet kiss. "It's rude to cut people off, you kno—" I try, but he cuts me off again, the kiss hungrier.

"Stop being such a worrywart, Cammie," he mutters, twirling a piece of my hair around his finger. "Our kids are special; children of spies. You can't get much more special than that." I sigh, feeling the urge to still pick up the Converses. I try and get up, but Zach holds on, pressing me back. "Seriously Cam, you don't need to be in constant motion. It's okay to leave a pair of blue shoes hanging from the ceiling fan. Not like the Minis care much anyways." I smile at his nickname for them, leaning back into his embrace. I tense, a sudden thought intruding.

"You know, I just realized, those shoes weren't there a second ago, were they?" I watch as Zach's eyebrows furrow, his gears cranking as he tries to remember.

"Not… that I recall." I stare at him, his green eyes gazing back. "You're not… you're not implying that the Minis got those up there, are you? Those shoelaces are tied together and the ceiling's eight feet high. Those are Matt's shoes. Abby's are…" he raises his head, spotting the pink pair on the coffee table. "…right there. So how did… what?" We're knocked into silence, both of us confused.

"You know what, let's just forget we ever notice that," I say abruptly, both Matt and Abby giggling that cute baby laugh that makes you smile as they stay glued to the screen. "There's absolutely no way the little ones could've gotten that up there. No way."

"They are our children, Cam," Zach implies.

"No Zach. I can see what you're thinking. We are not sticking our children in the CIA program they've developed to train them from babies to adults."

"I wasn't—"

"Are you really going to lie to me, Zach?" I threaten, glaring at him.

He sighs, giving in. "Fine. Maybe it entered my mind at the moment but you're right. Our children will not be a part of the program." I'm surprised when he agrees so easily, but then I hear him mutter "unless Grant puts Alexi in, then game on". I pinch his ear with my free arm. "Ow! I was joking! Christ, woman."

"Zach would never agree to that," I state firmly.

"I guess so," he replies, sad almost.

"You know," I muse after moments of almost-silence, the babies still entertained, "they look kind of cool up there. Like interesting art, almost."

"Huh. I agree. We'll call it, Converse a la Matt." I snort at how dumb it sounds. Zach can always turn a tensed argument into a lighter one.

(Especially when he knows he's lost).

There's a loud pounding rhythm at the front door, accompanied with muffled yells. I'm in the bedroom, carrying an armful full of dirty clothes as I glance at the monitor next to the T.V, the tiny camera above the door showing me an image of Bex and Grant. Or course, Bex is doing all the pounding.

"Zach?" I question quietly enough that he'll hear me from his designated office but not loud enough to wake the napping twins in their room (which is bullet/sound proof—oh don't worry, there're baby monitors set up everywhere). "Zach?" I repeat, expectantly.

"Yeah, I got it." I shove the clothes into a basket, whites on top so it'll be easier to wash when I get the chance. I blow loose strands out of my face, heading to the twins' room. Just as I crack open the door just as the first cry blooms into the still air. Huh, I wonder to myself as I balance a sleepy Abby and tearful Matt on each hip, to think I was starting to miss the sound of the melodic screams.

"Where are my lovely niece and nephew?" Grant's singsong voice penetrates the room since I hadn't closed the door, causing Abby and Matt to squirm, recognizing the voice.

"Cammie!" I smiled as Grant nearly tackled me, lifting Abby into the air where she looked around, staying quiet unlike Matt who, when Grant did the same to him, giggled that baby laugh and reached around, nearly touching the ceiling.

"Alexi! Come in here and meet your cousins!" I saw a tiny brunette head shoot into the room, trying to tackle his father. The five year-old boy failed to knock him down, jabbing Grant behind his knee, causing him to buckle.

"Whoa!" I reached out, taking Matt from his arms before he fell, pretty fakely, taking Alexi down with him.

"Where did you learn that, Alexi?" I asked, sounding astonished. The toddler grinned up at me, his speech slighted accented from spending too much time with Bex.

"My awesome spy mum, Rebecca Newman." I grin back at him just as Grant wraps his arms around his son, adjusting my own stance as the Minis begin to squirm.

"Would you like to say hi to your cousins, Alexi?" I ask.

"Yes, please." I squat down, wondering what Bex had down to make him so polite.

"Say hello, Matt, Abby." I sit them down on my knees, Matt weighing a bit more than Abby. The twins reach out, trying to grasp Alexi's growing locks, his glossy hair just like his mother's. But I notice how he has Grant's grin as he tries to hi-five them, his blue eyes also from his father.

"Hello little cousins," Alexi says, squinting at them, and then me. I wonder why, but then I remind myself; Bex's son. Of course he was looking closely. It was probably instinct to him, now. "Matt has your eyes, Aunt Cammie. And Abby has Uncle Zach's. They both have little brown hairs. You have yellowish hair though, so I guess that's from Uncle Zach too. But then again, their hairs are so teeny I can almost see through them." Abby and Matt continue to reach out, trying to hook their fingers into his mouth and nose. I'm faintly aware of Grant sitting off to the side, watching his son with a fatherly, prideful smile on his face.

"Oh, right." Grant scrambles up, nearly falling as I watch, amused. "Bex wants to talk to you about something, Cam. Hey Alexi, we should go before your mother gets upset." Grant grasps for his hand, reaching towards me and taking Abby with his free hand, making it easier for me to stand with only Matt to hold. I trail behind the toddler and father, Abby looking back at me, reaching towards me. I smile, patting her head as we reach the living room, taking her back from Grant's grasp.

"There you are, Cammie. I was just—wow. You look… like a mother." Bex smirks as I glare at her, shaking my head in an attempt to fix my hair (which is actually fine), self-consciously. "Your hair's fine. But bags under your eyes, slouched posture, and shirt stained with unknown goop. Just how my first couple of months with this spitfire went." She pats Alexi's head, grinning as he tries to knock her down, jabbing her in the knee. She moves her leg though, timing it just right as he throws his whole body into it, sprawled on the ground.

He gets up quickly, frowning. Instead of crying, he mutters "I should have known better than trying it on mum" earning a chuckle from all of us, even Zach.

"So what is it that you wanted to talk about?" I ask, passing Abby to Zach, who seems to enjoy the affection he gives her. Then again, she was always meant to be Daddy's Little Girl.

"You two will be joining a mission with Macey, Preston, Liz and Jonas," Bex said calmly, her arms stretched out to carry Matt. I hand him over, wary about the glint in her eyes. "Nothing dangerous, I assure you."

"Preston…? But he isn't—I mean, he isn't trained," I manage to get out.

Bex just shrugged, offering no explanation. "I'm just the messenger. Just go to the address on this paper—" moving Matt to her hip, she pulled out a crumpled paper with a street and building address scrawled in Bex's messy handwriting.

"The kids—" Zach started.

"Taken care of." Her words were finally.

I sighed, resigned. "Fine. Let me just—" I stopped when I saw Grant dangling my purse from his hand. "How did you—you know what, never mind." I stomped out; slightly annoyed by the fact I was doing something against my will.

Only to come stomping back in, Zach, Bex, and Grant shooting me confused looks.

"I need to pee," I exclaim, striding past them.

After twenty minutes, I make my way to the living room, my hair pulled back into a bun and face smelling of face wash. Bex and Grant sit together on the ground, playing with Matt and Abby while Zach sits in the corner, watching with an amused expression as Alexi manages to pull off a red belt advanced technique in karate on the air in front of him.

"That was a long time to pee," Zach mumbled, his eyes still on Alexi, looking half asleep.

I blushed, embarrassed. "I had to freshen up. It's not every day that I get a day to myself. With you, of course. Let's go, Zach." He gets up without another word, holding the door open as I step out into the fresh air. "Take care. And Grant, don't try anything dangerous with the twins!" The door shut firmly closed behind me.

"Think they'll notice the shoes?" Zach asks.

I shrug. "Depends." I pause, thinking it over, and grin. "Most likely."

Meanwhile...

Bex glanced around and, spotting something out of her peripheral, looked up. Her eyebrows furrowed.

"Grant?" she murmured. He glanced at her and followed her gaze skyward. "How do you think they got those up there?" she asked, referring to the pair of blue mini converses dangling from the ceiling fan.

He shrugged, his mind already somewhere else. "Magic?"

"You want us to do what!" I shriek. Macey sighs, her tolerance swaying.

"One more time, Cammie. You and Zach will be Flamenco dancing. It's a type of Spanish dance. Preston and I will as well. And so will Liz and Jonas. Now, wrap you intelligent spy brain around that before you burst my eardrum."

"Oh…" I pause, not knowing what else to say.

"Why exactly are we doing this?" That's why I married Zach. He always knew what to say, even when I didn't.

Liz shrugged, twirling her colorful flaring skirt. "I guess Bex and Grant decided that we all deserved a nice night out."

"But why wouldn't they join us?" Jonas asked, his eyes glazing over as he tried to figure it out, as if it was a hard equation. But it was quiet clear to me.

I made a face. "Because Bex hates dancing more than anything. She says it's a waste of time. And what better way to get rid of us all by torturing us with her least favorite thing, which just so happens to be mine as well." I peek at Zach, swallowing down the embarrassment I felt from years ago. And then I take a better look as the swinging door swings shut, letting me glimpse it. A small ballroom, hidden between two larger stores on a boardwalk outside, the inside tiled with wooden planks paving the way to a room with wall length mirrors on all the walls. Even the other side of the door we stood behind, stalling as long as we can, has a mirror (or so Macey says).

Zach shuffled, obviously uncomfortable with the proximity. "So… what do we do?"

Macey opens her mouth to speak but Preston beats her to it. "I say we should do it. A free dance class, all expenses paid?" he grins, throwing his arms around Macey's shoulders. "I can finally show off my sweet dance moves." Macey snorts, a retort on her tongue, when Preston literally shoves her to the door where the swinging door obliges, sending a stunned McHenry stumbling through, her eyes wide as the dance instructor spots her, his voice booming. "Ladies first!" Preston announces, bounding after her.

We just stare, surprised Preston was still alive as the door swung shut, revealing glimpses of a pissed Macey pressed against an embarrassed looking Preston.

"Well…" Liz mutters after moments of silence. "Guess Jonas and I should probably head in as well. Oh, guys," she adds, turning towards us, "don't forget; your outfits are in the changing room. I think you'll like the ones we left you." Is it just me, or is Liz almost grinning evilly? I glance at Zach, noticing I'm not the only one who saw.

"But—"

"No buts Zach! Don't you want to show Cammie a good time?" My eyes widen in horror. That liar! She knows I hate dancing. But Zach is fooled; his eyes shift to me, his mind already made up.

He nods. "Okay. We'll meet you in there then." Liz squeals happily, tripping over the flouncy dress as she enters, a loud "oopsy daisy!" ringing through the room as the door swings shut, leaving us in the dimly lit corridor.

"We're not… actually going in there, are we?" I grin, watching as Zach smirks at me.

"Hell no. Did you think we were?" I nod. "Thanks, Cammie. Where's the trust?" I poke him in his side, laughing.

"Then let's ditch this place before they realize we're gone."

I smirk, laughing as the ice cream falls off of his nose, landing with a plop on the table.

"Uncalled for Cammie," Zach mutters, his eyes glinting. I smirk at him, my eyes wary.

"You wouldn't dare, Zach."

"Oh really?" Before I know it, Zach manages to snatch my cone, whipping his finger across it and smudging my cheek with chocolate ice cream.

I gasp. "Oh, you did not just—" he cuts me off with a sweet kiss, his lips and mouth tasting of strawberry.

I make a face at him as we break apart, snatching a napkin to wipe away the smudge. "Very funny Zach. The old Cut-her-off-while-she's-talking-so-I-won't-get-in-trouble move. Very suave." He laughs, really laughs, which is rare for him. He's always so serious and calm; it makes my insides churn madly.

Just then, the soft, background music of the tiny, empty (except for us, of course), ice cream parlor we were in, changes to a dance, almost meringue-type of music. Zach looks at me, his eyes suddenly intense.

"Let's dance. Just you and me, Cammie." It's so sudden, I'm startled.

"But I thought we just avoided dancing. If you wanted to stay Zach, you should've said—"

He leans in closer to me, his sugary breath toxic. "This time it'll be just me and you." I let out a rattled breath, abandoning my cone on the table. I would say it fell out of my hand, but that's too embarrassing.

"Okay," I whisper, too dazed by his look to realize what I had agreed to. I'm pulled out of the booth, Zach's face gone as I'm whipped around, forced to follow his steps or risk tripping. He leads fast and hard, the rhythm already set and memorized. And before I know it, I'm laughing, feeling giddy and light as we dance. It feels… almost surreal. Zach's laughing too, I know because his rib cage vibrates against my chest, my stomach fluttering at the deep chuckle. We speed up along with the song, gracefully managing to avoid tables and stray chairs. I can feel sweat gather on the back of my neck, my untied hair flying around loosely, but I don't care. I concentrate on staying light and fast, keeping up with Zach's light and graceful steps. I feel myself relax, letting go of the tense and strained stress of being a mother, letting myself be someone else. Someone who dances in an ice cream parlor with the man she loves, laughing at the very sound of his resonating chuckles. Someone who is able to feel the ground fall from under them, focusing on the only person who mattered at the moment, and living in that moment. Someone who doesn't worry about the past of present or future, choosing to keep this one memory vivid and alive.

After the five minute song ends, we collapse on nearby chairs, breathing hard. My breaths dissolve into a fit of giggles, leading to chokes of laughter, falling off the chair, not feeling a thing but the ecstasy. The feeling of flying still pumps my vein, letting me enjoy this bliss for seconds longer. I sit up, wiping away tears of joy, still laughing. I spot Zach crouched next to me, grinning widely like a fool who's just won the lottery.

I kiss him without thinking, knowing it's what my body wanted.

"I'll tell Liz I didn't miss a thing," I whisper to him, smiling. He smirks.

"Of course you didn't. I set this whole thing up," he tries, but I know he couldn't have.

"Uh-huh. So that look of terror, when your face paled when Liz said we had to dance, was all part of your act, then?" I laugh when he looks away, his cheeks tinted pink.

"I love you, Zachy-bear," I mutter, giggling when he makes a face at the awful nickname.

"I love you too, Cammie… poo?" he tries. I laugh, making a face at him.

"That sounds gross."

"Okay then. I love you too, Cammie-pie." I laugh again, this time at the ridiculous sounding name. We share another kiss, under the fluorescent light of a small and cozy ice cream parlor, crouched on the ground, in the middle of a town that was mostly asleep.

It was perfect.

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