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Wrapping both hands around his cup of coffee desperately, Loid resists the urge to sink back into the couch.
“Anya,” he calls, “are you dressed yet?”
She comes skipping out of her room with Bond at her heels — predictably not dressed yet.
“Yor will be out soon,” Loid reminds her, “and if we want to find the best picnic spot we have to leave soon.”
“We’re still going? I thought Papa was too tired to go,” says Anya, blinking up at him.
A refusal is on the tip of his tongue, but he hesitates. He is tired, more so than usual lately. If it were just a result of WISE piling more cases than standard on his back, he wouldn’t mind; it might not be ideal, but he’s used to that by now.
The real problem, though, is that his nightmares have chosen now, of all times, to rear their heads again.
“It’s important that we go,” Loid says instead. It isn’t a lie. “We haven’t had a family outing in a while.”
The neighbors don’t seem to have noticed, but still, better safe than sorry. Besides, Anya enjoys these picnics. She’s been studying more and complaining less as of late, so this will be a good way to keep her morale up.
“Okay,” Anya says, though she doesn’t look entirely convinced. “Anya will go get dressed.”
When she comes out again, it’s with Yor following not long after. And then Bond is leashed up and the picnic basket is tucked in Loid’s hand and the Forger family sets off toward the park. It’s a nice day outside, though he can hardly bring himself to notice. Every step he takes is lined with exhaustion, and his mind is foggy from the lack of sleep.
When they finally find a good spot under a tree, protected against the heat of the sun, Loid all but collapses down onto the blanket. He stammers out an excuse about stomach problems to get out of eating — it might be dramatic of him, but he’s too tired to even think about chewing right now.
His daughter, on the other hand, seems to have no such qualms. She wolfs down her sandwiches in the blink of an eye, more animal than human.
“Can Bond and I go play?” she asks eagerly.
Yor reaches out to wipe at the corner of Anya’s mouth with a napkin. “Just stay close,” she says, and the words are barely out of her mouth before they’re taking off, leaping and running and bounding away with identical grins on their faces.
“Honestly,” says Yor, shaking her head fondly. “I don’t know where they get the energy.”
Loid, whose eyelids have been growing progressively more heavy with each passing second, cannot help but agree. He thought he had been hiding it well enough, but she gives him a knowing look.
“You know, you can feel free to close your eyes for a bit,” says Yor. “I don’t mind at all!”
“I’m fine,” he says. “Don’t worry about me.”
She clicks her tongue in disapproval, and before he can react, she places a hand on his shoulder and all but pushes him over until he’s lying down. It’s only because he’s so tired that she was able to catch him unaware like that, he tells himself.
“Yor, what are you—“
Yor shushes him, readjusting so that his head is in her lap. “Yuri was the same way when he was a kid,” she tells him. “This was the only way I could get him to sleep.”
Loid knows he should sit back up. Sure, he might be a little tired, but he shouldn’t be allowing a thing as small as that to impact his mission. But then Yor starts running her fingers through his hair. With a soft smile on her face, she begins to hum a lullaby — one he’s heard her sing to Anya before.
“Are you sure?” asks Loid softly.
“Of course!” A light dusting of red covers Yor’s face, but she presses on. “You work so hard for our family. You deserve a rest.” She leans down, close enough that the ends of her hair tickle his bare skin. “Besides,” she whispers, “I think Anya has been worried about you lately.”
Loid glances at Anya out of the corner of his eye; she’s trying very hard to pretend like she’s not staring back at them from across the park.
“Maybe you’re right,” he says. “But I don’t know if I can sleep.” Lassitude has broken down all of his walls — he has to snap his mouth shut again before he can continue and spill all the details of his nightmares to her.
Luckily, she doesn’t seem to have noticed. “That’s all right,” she says. “Even if you can’t, just close your eyes for a bit. You’ll feel better after that.”
She sounds so confident that Loid can’t help but feel the same way. Reluctantly, he lets his eyes fall shut. He’s determined not to actually fall asleep — what kind of spy would so willingly let himself be caught off guard like that? — but as it turns out, the decision is out of his hands.
With Yor’s fingers in his hair and her voice in his ears, sleep comes to claim him before he knows it. When he wakes again, the sun has set and he’s better rested than he has been in weeks.