It's a double chapter day! I love a slow burn, but I know these two chapters are very tense so consider it a "thank you" for sticking with the story this far!

Thank you so much to everyone who left comments/reviews, I cannot tell you how much they motivate me and keep me going, and I love seeing all your thoughts and reactions to whats going on in the story!

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Inside the apartment, Anya shed her coat while Yor dropped her bag off in her room, and she turned to Damian with an apologetic grimace.

"I'm er, really sorry about this," she mumbled.

Damian sighed as he, too, dropped off his things by the entrance to the apartment. "It's fine."

Anya appraised him carefully. She had known that Damian had apparently been to the Forger house a few times, especially when they were still looking for her, but it still surprised her to see that Damian actually looked comfortable in the house. He knew where to hang his coat, where to leave his shoes, where to store his overnight bag so that it wasn't in the way.

When Anya watched Damian, she wondered just how many times he had been to her house. How was it that he knew just what to do, like it was his own home? The more she thought about it, her Papa hadn't been weirdly overprotective in a while. Her heart stuttered at the realisation that they had accepted him without question since all of the events of the past few months. A part of her wondered if he knew that, if he knew that as far as the Forgers were concerned, he was already part of the family.

She leaned towards him, and lowered her voice to a whisper, hopefully out of earshot from the adults. "My parents really like you, you know."

Damian was taken aback. "Really?"

Anya nodded, about to say more, but Loid came into the entryway wearing oven gloves and an apron. "Just in time!" he called with a smile. "We're almost served up. Damian, could you help Anya set the table?"

"Uh, sure," Damian croaked.

They didn't have a choice. Anya wordlessly led him to the table, and grabbed a collection of utensils from the kitchen drawer.

"You take these," she said authoritatively, and handed Damian what looked like approximately half. "You do that side, I'll take this one."

Damian didn't reply, but as he took the bundle of cutlery from her, he brushed her hand in the process, and he jerked back with the silverware in his clenched palm.

"S-sorry," he muttered, barely able to make eye contact.

Anya pinched her lips together, saying nothing, and continued to lay the cutlery on the table.

"Damian, what can I get you to drink?" Yor called from the kitchen.

Damian's mind went blank. He had no idea what to say. What kinds of things did Anya's family have in their kitchen? What was he even allowed to have?

Anya replied, this time. "He'll have a coffee. A little milk, half a teaspoon of brown sugar."

Damian froze, in the middle of laying down the last fork on the table, and he looked up at Anya in astonishment.

It was Anya's turn not to make eye contact. A deep blush rose in her cheeks as she pretended to straighten the cutlery on the table. "You have one everyday just before dinner." Then she dared to raise her gaze to his, and her lips quirked in a pointed smile. "You really need to stop studying so late at night."

At that, Damian reddened even more, but his shoulders relaxed, and he crossed his arms in mock-annoyance. "I'll have you know that if it weren't for my endless studying, I wouldn't be able to pull up your terrible grades."

"How dare you! My grades are way better than what they used to be!" Anya gasped, incredulous, but she couldn't help the self-satisfied grin spreading across her face.

"And who do you think you should thank for that?" he smirked.

Loid joined them at the table carrying a hot plate in his gloved hands. "Certainly not her father," he drawled, "who had to resort to making Anya her own Spy Wars cartoon episode, just so that she could learn a bit of arithmetic."

Damian stared at him in disbelief. "Are you joking?"

"Oh, I remember that!" said Anya, her face lighting up. "It was so boring!"

Loid's face was aghast, while Damian coughed to cover up a snigger. "I worked very hard on that!"

There wasn't much more time to bicker, before Loid and Yor had brought out the food. Curled wisps of steam floated from the bowl of jasmine rice in the middle of the table, while Yor had arranged an assorted collection of plates and bowls: pork curry, mango chutney, and various additions of naan and paratha sent a beautiful aroma of good, home-cooked food.

Anya's mouth watered at the sight and smell of it all. "Wow, Papa, this looks great!"

"Help yourselves," called Loid from the kitchen, and the telltale rattling of glasses told Anya that he was getting water for each of them.

Yor moved her chair back to stand, but being agitated and unable to sit still, Damian leapt up. "I'll serve," he announced, and reached for the serving spoon handles without any further thought.

"Wait!" Anya jumped up from her seat next to him. "I'll do mine!"

Damian rolled his eyes as he snatched her plate first, onto which he spooned a couple of dollops of rice. "Sit down, Forger. I got this."

Anya watched, unable to breathe, as he arranged her food exactly as she liked: the rice only took up about a third of the plate, and a short line of bread separated the curry from the rice, making sure that they didn't touch, while a spoonful of chutney and raita sat in separated dollops on the other side of the plate, far away from the rest of the main dish, no chance of any of the pieces contaminating each other. Warmth and guilt flooded her heart in equal measure, and she held back the strange urge to cry. Had he really been paying that much attention to her the whole time?

Damian soon handed her the plate, and she studiously avoided making the mistake of accidentally brushing his fingers with hers again.

Once everyone was served, they sat down to eat, and Anya leaned over her plate excitedly, ready to dig in, but Damian's hand flashed in her periphery. Time seemed to freeze as he grabbed a portion of her hair, and swept it behind her neck.

"You're gonna get curry in your hair," he scolded her gently. The soft sweep of her hair tickled her skin, sending a shiver down her spine, and the warmth of his fingers brushed the back of her neck. "You need to be more careful."

He must have known what that did to her. Sparks crackled on her skin, shocking her heart into overdrive, but he had gone back to his own food, none the wiser. Anya stared at him and swallowed dryly. "Th-thanks."

How could he touch her so casually, after everything? Did it not make him flustered at all? Did he even know what he had just done?

With her eyes still on him, wondering what he was thinking, she put the first spoonful of curry in her mouth and gasped aloud, hot air hissing through her teeth, and subsequently downed her entire glass of water in one gulp.

Damian's touch had distracted her, and she had completely forgotten that she was supposed to cool it down -

"That's why you're meant to blow on it," said Loid with a weary sigh, but he did not look up from his own meal, used to his daughter's strange antics.

Anya stuck out her tongue at him. "It almost burned my tongue!" and then she held up her empty glass of water. "And now look! I've had to use up all my reserves!"

A firm clink of cutlery as Damian put down his spoon and fork, and without a second thought, he grabbed the glass out of Anya's hand. "You stay right there. I'll get it."

Nevermind that electricity jolted down her fingers as he grabbed the glass from her, but as he passed Anya to head into the kitchen, he brushed past her and his palm lingered on her shoulder, a subtle touch that indicated for her to lean out of the way.

It felt… nice. His hands were always so warm. A deep blush rose in her face as she realised that he had been finding excuses to touch her since the minute they got home.

Knowing how he felt about her, Anya wondered if it was wise to keep putting herself in such close contact with him, but she didn't want to move away. His hands warmed her skin where he touched her, and tingled with an invisible mark once he withdrew.

It sent her mind spinning, and Anya wondered how she was going to get herself under control.

Yor saw a change in her daughter the minute she stepped back into the apartment.

She saw the way her gaze lingered on the boy in their house, saw the way a gentle blush scattered across her cheeks at each little interaction. From a distance, Yor could even tell how his proximity caused her heart to race, judging by the pulse fluttering in her neck.

After a whole meal time of observation, Yor was certain of her hypothesis, and she wanted to help, but what could she do?

She gave Loid a sideways glance as he stacked up the dishes. Yor couldn't tell if he was oblivious to the developing feelings in the room, but if she knew her husband, she knew how analytical he was, and he had likely observed Damian's crush on Anya long ago. Up until this point, Anya had given no indication that she reciprocated those feelings even a tiny bit, but Yor knew that unless they were given the space to process it together, then they might not even acknowledge the new change in the air.

If it was anybody else he would have already detected their altered behaviour, but Yor wondered if he hadn't yet come to terms with the idea that Anya could even be capable of romantic thoughts.

Well, he would realise it soon.

Yor gathered her wits, and her courage, and smiled at her husband. "Oh darling, I should have mentioned earlier! When I was driving back today, something about the car felt a little off. Could you take a look at it with me?"

Prideful of his immaculate attention to detail, Loid narrowed his eyes. "A little 'off'? In what way?"

"Oh you know," Yor wracked her brains, trying to think through what little she knew of mechanics. "The… steering. It was pulling a bit to one side."

"Yor," Loid lowered his voice for only her ears. "You're acting strange. What are you trying to do?"

Yor grimaced at having been caught out so soon, but then she calmed her expression, and tilted her head slightly towards Anya and Damian in the sitting area. "Darling, we should go. It's time."

Loid almost dropped the plate that he was holding. A dozen expressions flitted across his face, usually so calm, before he had eventually decided on something between a grimace, and something more melancholic.

"Already?" he whispered, and his grip tightened on the plate, before he released his hold in defeat.

She felt for him. She really did. Anya was growing up before them, and there was nothing that they could do about it, except to show her their support.

"I still don't think it's a good idea," he grumbled, but he stopped complaining when Yor placed a reassuring hand on his shoulder.

"We talked about this," she said in hushed tones. "You said so yourself, he's basically part of the family already, and we know he would be good to her." And for you, she stopped herself from saying, although she was sure that Loid hadn't forgotten about his true mission. The mission that had brought them all together in the first place. "If they can't figure things out in a safe place like here, where they can have some privacy, where are they going to go?" She raised a teasing eyebrow at him. "A hotel?"

As she had hoped, he sighed wearily, and placed the last of the dried dishes in the cupboard. "Fine," he sighed grudgingly, and Loid raised his voice to a normal tone. "I'll go take a look at the car just now." As he said it, he maintained eye contact with her, as if to say: Is that what you wanted?

It was.

"I'll come with you, and take Bond outside for a walk," said Yor, a bit too quickly, and she dragged Loid away by his elbow. She gave Anya and Damian a quick smile as she steered Loid and Bond through the exit. "This might take some time!" she said cheerfully. "Have fun!"

"But not that much time!" Loid called out from the corridor. "We'll be back in fifteen minutes!"

"No, an hour!"

"Yor, don't give me that look - oh, fine! Thirty minutes!"