A/N: Welcome to the next chapter of Knit Together, in which the Forgers visit the local yarn shop, and Yuri buys Christmas presents. More fluff, plus Yuri being, well...Yuri.
~Peace
"Baa-baa rainbow sheep, have you any wool? Yessir, yessir ten bags full..."
Anya pushed open yarn shop door, and it tinkled shut behind them. She stood in the entryway for a moment, her mouth agape. Fuzzy yarn balls of every color, spilled from shelves, were piled in cubbies and baskets. And in the middle, the brightest, coolest yarn of all.
There seemed to be enough for everyone. Now a sales lady in pink cat-eye glasses rang up an order for an old lady getting a bunch of blue and yellow yarn. What was she gonna make with that? Probably a blanket. Or a hundred scarves. Anya did not have the patience for that.
"Mama, wow. You'd need a thousand sheeps for all this yarn."
"Right?" Mama smiled down at Anya.
"Perhaps. Perhaps not." Papa said.
Anya scanned the store. There were a couple of Eden kids like her. Besides the Eden boy, Papa and he were the only guys in the store. Some of the lady shoppers stopped thinking about yarn to smile and glance Papa's way. Papa was internally groaning about this and "day-glo colors."
"Where do you want to look first, Anya?"
"There, Mama. The signs say 'Peace, Love and Yarn.'" Anya pulled Mama along to the bright display in the center of the store.
"Cheerful." Mama's thoughts were all full of the colors.
"What? Yarn Youthquake?" Papa muttered. They left Papa behind with his grumblings about "marketing schemes."
At the display, there was a lady mannequin dressed in a skirt, vest, and bag made of black-bordered yarn squares with neon centers in pink, purple, lime, and aqua. Hanging beside this were some ponchos and blankets made of other bordered rainbow-colored squares.
Were they knitting or cro-shay? These colors were happy. Pink and teal Mr. Chimera colors. Full of insperrashun. She couldn't peel her eyes.
Anya stuck her hands in one of the baskets of bright yarn. What "easy-care acrylic" and "premium Orlon" had to do with peace, Anya didn't know. Yarn from plastic sheep?
But this yarn made her happy, and peace was a happy thing. Anything made from colors this cool would not be boring. But what?
. . .
Pulled along by Anya, a wonderful color explosion met Yor's eyes.
What were all these crochet squares coming together to make such eye-catching blankets and clothing? She rubbed her hand upon some of the hanging display afghans. So soft. And it was acrylic...it wouldn't felt in the wash.
"So pretty and soft," Yor said.
Her eyes went to the blankets. Such a thing would be cozy, and maybe easy to make. Like giving a hug. It was perfect. Think of Anya, and Loid, and Yuri, and even Bond wrapped in layers of these happy, colorful blankets. It was something she could do. Yor's fingers tickled at the thought.
There was one problem. This was crochet. And Yor didn't know how.
No, no. She did. But it had been years. And if she was helping Anya to knit, how would they have time to do this too? But did Anya want to? And did she have to hand-sew the squares together?
"Hello. So cute, right? Want to take a look?" A salesgirl in yellow tights and a miniskirt made of the same colorful squares took one of the blankets to show Yor and Anya.
Yor nodded. "Please do. What do you call this?"
"Granny Squares."
"I like," Anya said.
"It's nice, but I'm not a grandma. Can I make these?" Yor said.
The girl laughed. "I made this skirt. Do I look like a granny to you?"
"N-not at all. It's adorable." Yor gave her an embarrassed smile. Oh dear, she wasn't trying to call this girl, who was Yuri's age, a grandma.
"Mama, I want to make that." Anya pointed to the granny square poncho with an awed expression.
"I suppose, Anya...Are these 'granny squares easy to make?"
"Sure, once you learn how. It's simple crochet, you make a bunch and put them together, by sewing or crocheting them."
Crocheting them?
"Miss...do you have a pattern for this? And the blankets?"
"Sure. Right here." The girl handed a booklet to Yor.
Yor glanced around. Loid had found his way to the wool, and his over-coated back was to her. Just to be sure, Yor turned her beige-coated back to him and opened the book flat on the table, and flipped to to a page, to where she and Anya could see.
"This is how you make a granny squares, Anya." Her eyes got wide. "Oh, I know how. It's..."
"Easy," chimed in the sales girl. "And it's got patterns for all the clothes you see here."
"I have the insperrashun, and I want to make this. And this." Anya tapped a picture of a little girl wearing the poncho and a head scarf in white, pink, and green. "Can you teach me, Mama?"
"Teach you?" Yor looked to the page, and swallowed down her nervousness. "Yes I can, Anya. But you'll need permission and to learn a slightly different skill. One hook. Not two needles. It'll be extra training."
"I think I can learn. Mama is the master."
"Oh, Anya." Yor squeezed Anya's hand. "Please show us the crochet supplies, miss."
"Right on the wall near the register, by the front window," the girl said.
"These colors, Mama." Anya held an armful of mint green, pink and magenta yarn. So pretty. Yor handed Anya a skein of pinky-purple, and Anya nodded and grinned.
"Just a moment," Yor said. She flipped to the blanket pattern and did some quick mental calculation, and gathered some yarn. Anya? That would need to wait. Blue, red, and black for Yuri. And for Loid? Cream, oatmeal, tan, and a subdued light green, like his suit. Yes. He wasn't a man for loud colors.
"Nice mix," said the girl.
"Thanks." Yor smiled. Though she preferred red and black, Yor always got compliments when she tried outfits of other colors. Was it like, Yuri said, she had 'style'?
"We're ready now."
Yor held an armful of yarn to her chest. So Anya thought her the "master?" If they practiced a little every day, Anya could learn. And if she did a little a day she might complete the blankets by December's end...maybe not finish in time for Christmas, but she'd certainly try.
She couldn't wait to see their smiling faces on Christmas Eve.
. . .
The moment the shop door tinkled shut behind Twilight, he wanted to leave. It would be simple enough. He could make the excuse that he needed to check on Bond, tied outside.
He felt conspicuous.
A spy must never be conspicuous.
He repeated to himself for the thousandth umpteenth time of his spy career.
Twilight nodded polite smiles to the lady customers of all ages shooting looks his way. Some whispered comments to their companions. Probably things like, "My, he's handsome," or what he overheard one say, "He's shopping with his family, how sweet."
Out of sheer habit, Twilight assessed his surroundings. Several customers, mostly ladies of middle and elderly age, a few young women and two families. Two Eden students, a boy with his family, and an Eighth Year, and judging by the ease with which she shopped, knew what she was here for.
Another glance. No SSS, No WISE agents, no co-workers...though no one from Berlint Hospital would find it odd that Loid Forger was at the yarn shop with his family.
Anya caught his eye and gave him a big grin.
He smiled and waved.
Yor and Anya admired a blinding display of day-glo acrylic yarns. Marketing schemes. Nothing like the quieter colors of his boyhood.
Hands in his coat pockets, Twilight sighed and went to the familiar wool section in the store's back corner. This for the mission. No. It was for Yor and Anya. Well. He'd been curious to check out this shop based on the rumor they were the exclusive seller of a certain brand of cashmere yarn.
In the realm of the wool, Twilight felt at ease among their subdued hues. He ran his gloved hand over a certain lemon yellow—Mother's favorite. He turned his eyes away from the loden green, too much like the neck-warmers the soldiers wore...when soaked with blood, they turned dead mud brown.
Yor would like those rich reds...a bright burnt orange like Van Goff's sunflowers caught his eye. Twilight removed his gloves and took it.
Sunflower.
This was her favorite color. She'd inspired Twilight to knit again.
Agent Sunflower knitted during the lulls of spy missions—yes, knit. But she didn't care. It didn't hinder her when it was action time.
Nor did Sunflower need disguises. Her natural empath ability made it easy for her to do missions and go places Twilight couldn't. This, along with her cheerful independent spirit, drew him to her.
Was it only seven years ago?
Sunflower, who was a Uni student active in resistance work, was recruited and assigned to the WISE division in 1960, not long after Twilight, who'd joined in 1959. Handler instructed Twilight to show his fellow young spy the ropes.
Once, during a gnawing stakeout mission with Sunflower, Twilight's stomach was so twisted with the anxious waiting, he picked up her knitting to unwind. And she laughed.
"You knit?"
He looked up. "So?"
"I've some extra yarn and needles in my bag. Go ahead."
"I think I'll take you up on that."
Something about Sunflower unfurled the knots inside him, and he felt human again. Maybe it was because Sunflower never forgot she was human before she was a spy. Like her namesake, she kept her face to the sun, hopeful every mission could tip things to peace.
Twilight found knitting helped him plan and strategize. The joke among the spies was, "As violin to Sherlock, knitting to Twilight."
Handler noticed, teasing Twilight about the black woolen face mask he knitted to use for undercover missions, so much warmer for cold days.
"Maybe you could knit me a scarf," Handler joked.
On her birthday, he handed her a present, perhaps, to appease her.
"A cashmere wool scarf?"
"Knit by yours truly. A thank-you, for putting up with me."
"I'll wear it with gratitude." And Handler had.
His favorite mission with Agent Sunflower had been the one where they pretended to be a young married couple in order to snatch some strategic intel from a businessman's party.
It was so natural they didn't even need to pretend.
A thing they wanted to make real, secretly—yet he hesitated. She'd hesitated, knowing his loss. Could he give her the sun she needed?
Sunflower had told him, "There are two times of twilight."
Unfortunately, months later, Sunflower had an accident during a mission, and died. He wasn't to blame. Still, he put down his needles and wound his heart. Handler, noticing Twilight's stress and exhaustion, went somewhat easier on him.
She had lost her Twilight-made scarf. But, to show his gratitude again, he bought Sylvia Sherwood a black cashmere scarf from the renown Stein's of Hugaria.
"Pardon me, sir. Do you need anything?" An older saleslady with pink cat-eye glasses offered her assistance.
Twilight snapped to. "Good day. I'm just here with my wife and daughter, over there. She goes to Eden Academy." He motioned to Yor and Anya by the supplies.
"Lovely. Some Eden students have already come by to get supplies for their projects. We are known for our selection."
"Is that so? Rumor has it you sell a certain cashmere yarn."
"The rumors are true." The sales lady giggled with pride. "Are you interested? It's right there by the luxury fibers."
"Yes." He felt a skein of blue cashmere. "Excellent quality. It's just as I expected."
"Do you knit, sir?"
Twilight paused. Then he smiled. "As a matter of fact, I can."
"A fine fellow like you? How charming."
He did not mind her admiration. The sales lady was quite helpful in suggesting gift ideas for Anya, showing him some books. And he couldn't forget Franky. Or, sigh, Yuri. He might even want to make that turtleneck sweater for himself. Easy enough. But he wanted something classic for Yor.
Aran knits? Complex enough to hold his interest with all those bobbles and cables, and Yor would look great in that Aran sweater dress., but she didn't wear cream and besides, with his workload, he needed something simpler.
Maybe that? Loid's eyes fell on a fuzzy teal funnel-neck sweater. Elegant, and cosy. Very Yor.
"What's this, ma'am?"
"That's mohair. Very soft."
"Do you have in scarlet?"
Indeed they did. She found the pattern and gave him a basket. Soon it was full of yarn, royal blue, cranbery-scarlet, black and grey, lemon yellow, and burnt orange. He rubbed some white angora to his cheek, fluffy as a cloud. Maybe it could be matching scarves for Yor and Anya. Anya needed a warm hat.
Man. This was going to keep him busy.
Loid smiled as he filled his basket with white angora. Maybe he could knit again.
. . .
Anya swung her legs, sitting on a bench a few blocks away from the yarn shop with Bond and Mama. Oh boy. Her parents kept forgetting stuff. First it was Mama, who said she needed to get vegetables from the green grocers' for dinner while Anya and Papa gave Bond a short stroll. But those things under the potatoes in her extra sack weren't lumpy enough to be vegetables.
And now Papa, who had come out of the yarn shop with a little paper bag. Now he made the excuse he needed more socks and t-shirts and needed to pop in a nearby shop. He'd join Yor and Anya in ten minutes, but if he needed longer, they could start home without him.
Mama checked her watch. "It's been ten minutes. I guess we can go."
Anya got up from the bench, and they walked. Anya focused and listened.
That should be enough. And I'm coming from the right direction...
Anya perked up. "Hey Mama, it's Papa." She called to get his attention. Papa waved, his other arm balancing more paper sacks. Bond barked.
"Whoa Bond, easy. We'll wait for Loid." Mama pulled Bond back.
Anya squinted at Papa's bunchy sacks. Yeah. Probably he had hidden more yarn among those socks and shirts. She had her her two big paper bags of to carry, filled with Mama's yarn and hers.
Mama and Papa were sneaking yarn for presents? Cool.
Baa baa black sheep, have you any wool? Yessir, Yessir, five bags full.
. . .
Yuri sailed through the doors of Vuhlmann der Ost Kaufhaus, ready to take on Vulhmann's East, the premier department store of Ostania. He eyed their sheep mascot.
"Christmas shopping? I'm ready. Are you?"
He was armed. He had wads of dalcs. He had all afternoon.
Which was not enough time to find the best Christmas present for his precious sister Yor, and arrgh, gifts for Loidy and Anya. And maybe something small and tasteful to show his thanks to Chloe and his supervisor for their concern, because he had gotten hit by trucks. Twice.
Only an afternoon? He needed all day.
"I can't give you a whole day off for that," his scar-faced supervisor spat. "I get all my shopping done in thirty minutes. The first week of December."
"That's nothing."
"This afternoon. Take it or leave it." His supervisor sighed.
"Fine." Yuri crossed his arms. "I'll make it a race. I'll beat Loidy in getting the best presents this Christmas."
"Whatever. Just watch for trucks."
.
First he headed to the men's department and haberdasher's.
These plain white shirts would do for Loidy. Classy enough. Then he grabbed himself a packet of white shirts, same brand, just a cut above Loidy's. And socks. One for Loidy, one for him.
And some black ties for himself. Diplomats had to look good. Loidy done.
Then he trudged to the kids' department. Some of these outfits were really chic. Too bad they had to wasted on Chihuahua Girl. But Yor would want to see Anya in something cute. Alas. If only he'd only been able to clothe his dear sister in these lovelydresses...
He honed in on some jumpers and skirt sets. Not Yor, Yor...Yes. So like Yor. But he was shopping for Anya. This little dress had just the right combination of sassy and cute. And this red jumper, with the blouse with the red bow.
He did a little dance before the racks and ignored the raised brows of passing shoppers. Then Yuri remembered his digity. You are are a young diplomat. He cleared his thoat and eyed the outfit with a practiced eye.
Red? No. That was Yor. And red went horrendously with pink. Green? Green would do. Yuri scooped up the sassy dress in turquoise and the jumper set in green. And a white kerchief, not a headband, even though Anya's hair ornaments under it might make her look like a pointy-eared Chihuaha. Whatever.
Anya, check. Loidy couldn't do better himself. The least he could do was make sure Anya looked cute with...that guy. And Yor, in her fine red outfits.
Yuri snapped his coat lapels. He had indeed inherited his mom's style and color sense. He grit his teeth. How did that perfect Loidy manage to look so good in plain sweaters? Yuri passed by a mirrored wall and noticed the glance of some shoppers looking his way.
Nah. He didn't need to worry. He cut a fine figure in his sharp dark coat and suit.
He tried something Yor had said. "All you need is a smile. Then you're set."
Yuri lifted his critical frown into a smile. Huh. Yor was right. He looked...kind and pleasant.
"Well I am," he said to his reflection.
Yor...Yor! He only had four hours left. Yuri spent the next three hours looking for Yor. Nothing seemed right. Or it was too expensive. Vuhlmann's was exclusive, but come on! Finally, bleary eyed, he stumbled into a red wool coat on the sales rack in the back of Ladies' coats. When he opened his eyes to see the coat it was like the angels singing over baby Jesus.
Well, maybe not as extreme as that. There it was. The perfect red wool coat, in color and size. Elegant. Classic. Mod. Something Yor could enjoy for years and stay warm in, just like his love for Yor.
"I'm taking it," he said aloud.
Oh, no. There was a tiny tear in the lining. No problem. Expensive stores like this had menders and tailors. And once it was fixed, Yor wouldn't notice. Even if she did, Yor was humble enough not to care. She'd care most it was from him.
Even with the sale price, the designer coat cost more dalcs than expected. It was getting late. He still had to write his report. Plus, Chloe had said something about wanting to get a drink. And he'd said yes. But why? Probably to talk work stuff.
Yikes, Chloe and his supervisor. Yuri found some gloves for his supervisor, and a black cap for Chloe, a mod newsboy thing in black, like the one she had in grey. That should do. Nothing too extravagant, just enough for a well-liked co-worker. She had saved his hide. More than once.
Yuri stopped by the perfume counter, his eyes drawn to a crystal bottle with a rose cap. He had to see. He smelled it. Like a full rose garden in bloom. The price meant he could only afford Yor a bitty bottle of Eau de Toilette that smelled of a single rose. Did Yor even wear full scents? This was light. It would have to do.
Yuri sighed. His shopping was complete. But he only had enough dalcs left for beers. Oh, wait. Chloe had suggested a pub by his place. All right. Parcels and bags under his arms, Yuri left Vuhlmann's, and smirked at the fat sheep mascot. Mission accomplished. He left the store.
Only to narrowly miss a passing truck.
Jesus and His baby angels must've been watching since the truck passed him by, leaving Yuri shaking in its wake. He gathered his unharmed packages.
Phew. He didn't want to miss meeting Chole.
Or to miss Loidy's envious face when they opened Yuri's perfect presents. Loidy's present to Yor better not make her cry...Because if it did...Nah. Yuri didn't want to sour his mood with those thoughts.
Stepping along, he hummed a Christmas carol.
Every year again, comes the Christ Child, down to earth, where we humans are...
A/N: I hope you enjoyed that, dear reader. I love vintage fashion, so it was fun to squeeze in the 1960s craze for Granny Squares...if you've seen 'em, you know what they are. Still alive and well in crocheted afghans today.
It's my personal headcanon that Spy X Family takes place in 1967, and that Loid is 29; Yor, 27; and Anya, 5 (posing as 6). Agent Sunflower is an OC who will show up in Twilight's memories in other stories in the works. The department store is a play on Kaufhaus Der West (KaDeWe) department store of Germany, and Yuri hums an actual German Christmas carol, "Every Year Again."
Up next, Chapter 3: The Forger family visits the Christkindl market, pretzels and present exchanges, and the Forger Family Christmas...from Yuri's point of view, of course.
~ Peace.
