Disclaimer: Spy x Family belongs to Tatsuya Endo.

Author's note: This story is set post-war in which they didn't need Operation Strix. All feedback is welcomed and thank you very much for reading! Hoping to release a chapter every week unless I get caught up in school!

Chapter 1

"Yor! Yor—"

Yor Briar snaps her eyes open and catches herself dosing off. Her eyes are bloodshot from her overnight job last night, and her coworker named Luna gave a soft sigh. They were in a meeting with the important VIPs of the company, and yet Yor can't keep her eyes open. The dark-haired woman sends Luna an apologetic and grateful smile before turning her gaze back to the presentation.

An hour later, Luna starts nagging at Yor. They are walking back to their department—the logistics department—and Yor can't do anything but give her a tired smile.

"You really need to slow down at your other job." Luna tucks her clipboard of notes under her left arm. She pushes the door to their department open.

"Yes, well," Yor follows behind her and fixes her pencil skirt before sitting down in front of her desktop. "I can't stop now… Yuri—"

"—is all grown up," interjects Luna. She looks at her friend. "You need to stop working yourself to the bone."

"Hm," Yor replies while logging in. Luna is right… Yuri had already graduated from the police academy and has been hired in the next town over. In fact, her younger brother had moved out of their small apartment in Berlint about three months ago. She really didn't have to keep her other job… or, at least, not pick up assignments back-to-back like how she used to. After all, she isn't getting any younger. And anyway, since the war between Ostania and Westalis has been (mostly) resolved, the assignments haven't been too heavy and mostly focus on small- to mid-sized groups in the nation.

"—27-years old already, live a little!" continues Luna. Her green eyes are bright, smile mischievous. "How about a mixer? I need one more lady friend to come with me," she sings.

Yor automatically shakes her head. "You know I can't do that, Luna. I'm bad at those things!" She turns to her desktop once again to start working before their boss sees them and accuses them of slacking off.

"If you come with me this one time, I promise I'll leave you alone," Luna pleads, fluttering her lashes to her friend. "Please," she begs. "Just one time and that's it. You need to rest… and who knows, maybe you'll meet a special someone!"

Yor lets the idea turn in her mind for a bit while she begins clicking through the database. A moment later, Yor agrees hesitantly and thinks nothing of it while Luna happily texts her the date, time, and address (with a reminder not to dress shabby!).

.

.

Abandoning his identity to fight the war is not something he regrets. He goes by Twilight now, and seeing the peaceful surroundings around him only reinforces his conviction. An undercover spy for Westalis, he spent his prime years fighting for his country. But after losing everyone that was dear to him, everyone that knew him, to the brutal war between Westalis and Ostania, he decided that his old identity was not enough. He decided… to become a spy.

Although lately, there aren't many available missions for him to take on thanks to the peace between the two nations. A sizeable number of his colleagues had decided to retire and live out a "normal" life for the rest of their days.

Those were the people who kept their identities throughout the war, the people who didn't completely throw away their lives…

"Twilight," Franky grabs tightly on his arm. He tried his best puppy eye look (that never seems to work on anyone!). "Please. Just tonight. The last guy backed out and I know you don't have any missions right now!"

"No." Twilight pushes his (regrettably best) friend off his arm. "I don't have time for that."

"Yes you do!" Franky whines, latching onto his arm again. "The war is done! We don't need to be so—so—" he struggles to find the right word, "—dead all the time!"

"I'm very much alive," retorts Twilight. He squints his light blue eyes at his friend. "You may not be for long if you keep continuing this bullsh—"

"Pleaaase," Franky begs again. He lets go of Twilight and gets on his knees. "Just this one time! I just really want to find my special someone—"

"Who says you were going to meet them at a mixer?" Twilight all but rolls his eyes at the drama. Thankfully they were walking through the nearby park around dinner time, and no one was there to witness such a humiliating scene.

"Well, how am I going to know if I don't go?!" Franky answers back, teary eyes and a clear frown on his face.

"Why do I have to go?" sighs Twilight.

"Because," Franky gets up and dusts his pants. He's reeling Twilight in all right! He knew those puppy eyes worked on someone! "You're my best friend! Plus, what's better than going out with your best friend and possibly meeting The One? It's finally time to start the next chapter of our lives as married men—"

"Fine, just this once," cuts Twilight, not wanting to hear whatever Franky's imagining. He follows his friend through the park and back to downtown Berlint.

Next chapter? He planned to be a spy for the rest of his life! Though he didn't think he'd survive the war, so he is a little listless. He feels that his reason to live is slowly disappearing as the once-rival nations now collaborate for the future of both countries' citizens. Prejudices from either nationality cannot be avoided after a complicated history, but that is more a social problem than it is, say, an actual war.

"We're here!" announces Franky while gesturing to the barbeque place. It was a hot pot of some sort, where friends hang out and eat good food. Franky gives him a side glance and says, "Don't take all the women for yourself."

As if on cue, nearly all the women's gazes followed Twilight as he trudged after his friend, hands in his pockets as he continued to regret coming with him. At least, he thinks as he keeps his hard stare on the back of his friend's head, the food smells good.

They arrive at a table with two ladies and another gentleman (one of Franky's other friends, Twilight assumes). Ladies on one side and the gentlemen on another. Franky is introducing himself and Twilight ("Loid Forger," one of his many mundane identities), and he smiles his friendly smile while pulling a chair out for himself.

"Our friend's a little late," the one with light brown hair—Luna—says, eyes locked with Loid's. Her smile is too bright, too flirty, and Twilight—now Loid—tries his hardest not to stand up and walk away. He can't say that his interactions with women have all been the same… but most of them were.

It is about fifteen minutes later when he finally can't stand it that he excuses himself to the bathroom. He is waiting in line (of course, it is only one restroom for men and another one for women) when he suddenly smells a faint scent of… blood.

His eyes widen when a woman with black hair passes behind him to line up to the women's bathroom. His skin prickles with goosebumps. How could I miss that? Twilight thinks to himself while he observes the girl from the corner of his eyes. I must be getting old… maybe I should retire—

"Excuse me, I noticed you staring at me," she starts in a firm but soft voice, mouth set and eyes sharp, "May I help you with anything?"

Impossible, Twilight thinks while he turns around to face her. Could she sense my gaze? Twilight notes that the stench of blood is slightly stronger when he faced her. "No, I… just thought you were pretty, that's all."

Her guard almost left as soon she heard those words and her face flushed. She stepped forward, closer to him, and Twilight gulped—oh yeah, there is definitely blood somewhere (and he doesn't know where)—but as he is thinking of something else to say, the woman asks, "Do you really think I'm pretty? My physical appearance is… pretty?"

Twilight looks her face over; clear skin, upturned red eyes framed by long lashes, long black hair and, well, she is pretty. "Yes. I didn't mean to offend you in any way," he said politely.

She seems to realize she has moved closer and steps back, cheeks turning pink as she looks away. "Not at all," she replies. At that moment, the women's restroom becomes vacant and she all but runs into the restroom.

Twilight sighs in his head. He nearly forgot that he was actually running away from the mixer event but decides that that's better than running into that pretty (however odd) woman again. So, he heads back to his seat and thinks of an excuse to leave. Perhaps, diarrhea…

.

.

Yor can't keep the smile off her face as she aggressively washes her hands with soap and water, all the way up to her elbows. She feels that the stench of blood can't really be removed by simply washing her hands and elbows, but she was already late to the mixer, and didn't have time to wash up. Thankfully, she had expected something like this and brought an extra pair of clothes, but she worries her bag might stink of blood… but no one has noticed yet. She sprayed it with a lot of cleaning disinfectant (that she also used to clean up the assassination site with), and it seems to be fine so far.

Anyway, did that handsome man really find her pretty?! She is brimming with delight as she finally finishes cleaning up. A little scratch here and there, but not bad. She fixes her hair and makes sure there is not even a drop of blood (not hers) on her. Maybe she might run into him again when she steps out of the bathroom…

But she doesn't. Instead, she spots Luna almost instantly and she thinks about running away when she sees the group of people that is surrounding her friend. Surely, they'd think she's weird too… Yor has always known that people thought of her weirdly, hence why she avoids gatherings like this. But Luna said she'll stop bugging her if she goes just this once.

Her mind is so frozen when Luna waves her over that she doesn't notice the man sitting across from her friend. Almost robotically, Yor waves stiffly, forces a 'natural' smile, and sits at the opposite edge of Luna, already feeling like needing to go.

"S-sorry, I'm late," Yor starts, carefully putting aside her bag. She must make sure no one will trip over it and spill its bloody contents onto the floor. "My name is Yor, it's nice to meet…" She brushes her hair behind her left ear and hesitantly looks around until her eyes widen in recognition, and the man with blond hair stares at her in slight shock as well, "… you."

"Were you working at your other job again?" Luna asks from across the table. Yor nods and looks between Luna and the handsome man.

She's such an idiot… how can a man like that like someone like Yor? Of course, he would rather have someone like Luna, who's much more outgoing, more beautiful, and normal. Yor can feel her shoulders slump. All the guys at the mixer seem to be aiming for Luna or whoever this other girl is, and Yor makes the decision to leave after she takes a bite from dinner. Otherwise, she would have to cook her own dinner and she isn't up for any cup noodles tonight.

"Well, that's Gabe, Franky, and," her smile is brighter when she turns to the handsome man, "Loid."

Loid, her mind repeats. Sounds like void, she thinks to herself, completely empty. She shakes her head and attempts a smile, but everything feels forced. "Nice to meet you all."

Yor doesn't remember much afterwards, just focusing on her food, responding appropriately to whatever minimal interaction she has with the group. No one was really trying to talk to her, and she isn't trying either. In fact, once she had her fill about half an hour later, Yor pulls her wallet out and is already excusing herself from the group.

"You know," the handsome Loid interjects while Yor is pulling her bag from under the table, "I have to leave now as well. I have work in the morning so I might as well see Miss Yor out." He puts cash on the table and gestures to Yor. Luna and Franky almost dropped their jaws. "It'll cover our meals. It was nice to meet you all," he says before anyone else can say anything and waits for a flushed Yor to grab her things. She hurriedly does so and says a final farewell to the group.

They step out of the restaurant, and she turns to Loid. He is handsome even without the light. Now that she has another chance to get a closer look, his eyes are a clear blue, like a sky without clouds, and his hair is somewhat slicked back—as if he has had a long day at work, which he probably had. He is lean, tall, and polite.

"Well—"

"Um—"

They start at the same time. Loid smirks in amusement while Yor covers her smile with her hand. "Ladies first."

She blushed again. Loid wonders why she gets flushed so easily, but there are some women like that. The night is cold, especially during mid-October, where the warm season is transitioning to the colder months, so he thinks that being flushed is not too much of a bad thing for now. "Thank you for the meal. It was nice to meet you."

"Yes," agrees Loid. His eyes watch her clutch at her bag. He can still faintly smell blood. "It's a pleasure, Miss Yor."

They are silent for a moment. Loid is thinking of how to end the conversation so he can finally head home and sleep. But he is also curious about her bag. Why did it smell like blood?

"I hope we can see each other again," she says, her gaze earnest. Loid offers her a polite smile. If he had his hat on him, he would have put it on already to signal the end of their conversation.

"Perhaps, next time, Miss Yor," he finally says.

"I should go," she responds, not knowing what else to say. Was that rejection? She wonders. She tightens her hold on the straps of her bag and musters a smile. "Thank you again."

"As I said, it's a pleasure," Loid replies. She waves her hand, and he nods one last time. They part ways.

Except they don't.

They are both walking in the same direction, and Yor tenses up. She looks behind her, and Loid looks like he's in disbelief.

"I would really be surprised if we lived in the same building," Loid says to her. Yor lets out a little surprised (excited? Giddy?) laugh.

"I know everyone in my building," Yor shakes her head; she wants to keep looking at him, at his smile and at his eyes, but figures that he's only being nice—that it's really Luna or another woman he is into, "I would have known you if you did."

Loid hums in agreement, observing her from a step behind. She hides her physique quite well with her clothes. Though her social skills are clumsy, she seems to be in good physical shape. And she hides her presence well.

Almost like a trained professional like himself.

He becomes suspicious then, and he can't help it because it's in his nature to be suspicious. Yor looks behind her shoulder again and gives him an awkward smile. "I'm turning here. I live just outside of downtown."

"Ah," Loid stops in his tracks when she stops. They are at the bus stop. He looks around their surroundings; it's quiet and safe. It isn't too late, and it's a Friday night so there are many people around. Yet… he feels guilty if he left a woman like Yor on her own. She seems so clueless. But at least she's safe. "I can wait here until the bus comes," he finds himself saying automatically. Man, he must be tired; saying and doing things without calculating anything. Going to the stupid mixer. Sitting through the painful interactions with a group of strangers. Expending his energy to make sure this strange woman gets on the bus safely. Pretending to be someone he isn't when he isn't even on a mission.

But he thinks it's not so bad when Yor blushes again and fights the smile on her face. She looks away, but he can see the tips of her ears are red. "You really don't have to, Mr. Loid."

"Loid Forger," he responds. He watches her carefully, somewhat entertained with her reactions. "You can call me Loid."

"Please call me Yor," she says. He can hear the smile in her voice. She tilts her head towards him, red eyes glimmering in the dark of the night. "Thank you, Loid, for tonight. I enjoyed it."

He agrees; weirdly enough, he appears to have forgotten the previous events that led up to their current encounter as she waves him goodbye before stepping onto the bus. He stays at the bus stop until the bus starts moving, then he finally resumes his journey home.

Married men, huh, his mind thinks wistfully.