He takes off the mittens and reaches for the toothpick container. Shaking one onto his palm, Vanderwood then glances at the open tablet on the countertop and reads the instructions. He cautiously pokes one of the cupcakes with the toothpick. Gingerly lifting his hand, Vanderwood gives a sigh of relief at the clean stick.

"Okay, I got the cupcakes right..." he mutters. Vanderwood takes the tablet and swipes for the instructional video, placing his elbows on the counter and leaning forward while watching the next steps intently. He barely notices the locks of the front door clicking; the sounds of the security codes being keyed in are drowned out by the video's joyous, tinkling background music.

Vanderwood unconsciously drums his fingers against the countertop as he watches the woman in the video frosting the cupcakes. Damn...how does she swirl it like that? Narrowing his eyes on the screen, he leans forward and swipes the screen back, rewinding the scene and focusing on her actions, committing it to memory.

Blowing a stray lock of hair that had fallen to his eyes, Vanderwood grabs the strawberry frosting and tries to mimic what he saw. Unfortunately, he squeezes too hard and a clump of frosting falls flatly onto the cupcake.

As a former secret agent, he had to sort through wires to diffuse bombs, follow intricate instructions to decode locks or cancel missile launches. Not to mention needing to slip into different roles to gather intel, or infiltrate heavily guarded underground facilities. But never did he have to learn how to bake cupcakes or "frost cupcakes and decorate as desired."

A string of curses is leaving his mouth when he hears a giggle. The man looks up and sees his wife standing by the door to the kitchen, the smile on her face easing away his worries. One side of his lips curl up, a playful smirk ready for his mischievous wife.

"How long have you been standing there, MC?"

"Not long enough. I wish I could have been here since the beginning, I'm sure you looked so cute while mixing the ingredients!" MC says, walking to his side.

Vanderwood can feel his cheeks warming and he averts his gaze, scratching his cheek awkwardly, his previous confidence vanishing. "Ahh, baby, I told you not to call me cute."

He feels her pulling his hand away from his face, his fingers replaced by her lips as MC tiptoes and kisses his cheek. "The cupcakes smell delicious, baby."

MC is about to walk away but his arm shoots out, encircling her waist and pulling her close to him. Vanderwood hears her gasp, and he smiles as he leans closer to her, eyes watching the blush creeping up her cheeks.

"I think my gorgeous wife smells better."

Cupping her cheek, he brushes his lips over hers before capturing them in a passionate kiss. God...no matter how many times they kiss, the sensation of connecting with her in such an intimate way never dulls, never fails to make his heart beat a thousand times faster.

When MC first came into his life, he never thought she would become a big part of it; after all, she was the coordinator of an organization Seven shouldn't have been involved with in the first place. But damn...so much has happened after that. Vanderwood never meant to get involved with the RFA's matters, but somehow he ended up tangled in their affairs. Somehow, he ended up falling for the woman in his arms.

Pressing his forehead against hers, Vanderwood pulls away and meets her hazel gaze, a serene smile on his face. Thanks to the RFA's help, he and Saeyoung are now out of the agency and happily living their lives as normal people, with jobs at C&R.

"Welcome home, MC," he says in a low voice, so that only the two of them can hear. MC grins and gives him a quick kiss.

"Thank you, baby. I missed you while I was gone." MC pulls away from him and moves to check on the mess on the countertop, laughing. "I guess it's time for me to save the day."

Vanderwood rubs the back of his neck and moves to stand beside her. "Yeah...I wasn't sure how to do the frosting, baby."

Tying her hair back, MC washes her hands and tells her husband to stand back and watch as she gingerly squeezes the piping bag and makes swirls atop the cupcakes. Then, she places strawberry slices on top of the frosting, finishing the cupcake with a flourish.

"Tada!" MC exclaims. Vanderwood is about to respond when there are loud footsteps from the hallway upstairs.

"Uh oh." MC giggles. "It's your job to keep these cupcakes safe until tomorrow's party, Mr. Stark."

Vanderwood gives her a deadpan look, the nickname a joke between her and Saeyoung. But then he shakes his head and chuckles. Striding away from the countertop, Vanderwood steels himself for the tornado that's about to come. Sure enough, as the footsteps grow louder, two people appear in the doorway, both much shorter than him.

Before they could even take more than 5 steps into the kitchen, Vanderwood takes them by their waists and scoops them up. Happy squeals come from the children in his arms, the boy chuckling and the girl giggling.

"No fair, daddy!" the little girl says.

"What's not fair is you both eating all those cupcakes I worked so hard on before the party tomorrow." Vanderwood puts them down and bends so he's eye level with his children. "So you both can stay here and help mommy, but no eating, okay?"

The boy nods eagerly before running to his mother, climbing up a stool and asking if he could do the frosting for the next cupcake. Vanderwood stares at his daughter, who's shuffling her feet in that adorable way that she does, looking at him with her big hazel eyes...eyes like her mother's.

"Not even one teensy weenie bite, dad?" she asks in a sugary sweet voice.

Oh God.

Vanderwood remembers having to withstand the most painful of tortures before, and he never broke for his captors. But his heart softens at the little girl standing in front of him. It's too hard to say "no" to someone he cares about, especially when it's the sweet angel standing in front of him.

"Well..." Vanderwood begins, before he's interrupted by MC's melodious laughter.

"My love, you're spoiling our daughter too much," she says. "But okay, one cupcake for you both, but that's it! You can have more at tomorrow's party, okay? The cupcakes are for your friends after all, sweetie, since they'll be celebrating your birthday with you."

"Yes, mommy!" their daughter exclaims, giggling. "Just one!! It's my favorite, strawberries!"

Vanderwood straightens as his daughter joins MC as well, clapping gleefully. He chuckles to himself and for a moment, the former secret agents stands there and watches his family. MC is gasping, smiling widely as their son finishes frosting a cupcake successfully. Then their children choose their own cupcakes, each one radiating a gleeful innocence. These people in front of him make him believe that there is goodness left in this world, a goodness that's worth protecting. And even though he's done with being a secret agent, he still wants to keep this safe; he wants to protect the smiles of the people he loves, to make sure they keep smiling like this.

For a man who never thought he could ever be happy, never thought he could have something as beautiful and precious as this moment, Vanderwood feels like the luckiest man alive. No longer is he the tragic informant. No longer is he alone.

Now he has three people he truly loved and who truly loved him. His heart swells with emotions as he gazes at his family. MC meets his eyes and beckons him over but before he could join them, the phone in his pocket buzzes. Vanderwood takes out his phone and a smirk appears on his face. Their friends were logged onto the messenger.

Saeyoung: I made a special gift for RFA's little miss! Jumin Han: Just now...? I've had her gifts ready since last month. Yoosung: What!!! ;;;; It's tomorrow?? I don't have a gift yet! Saeran: Didn't MC send out the invites a month ago...? Yoosung: It's been so busy in the clinic T-T Zen, come buy one with me!! Zen: Oh...sorry, man, I can't tonight...I have a date! Jaehee Kang: Oh dear... V: Yoosung, let me accompany you. I can help you pick out a gift as well.

Vanderwood chuckles. He could never forget the RFA, of course.

"Dad, can I go on a ride with Uncle Saeyoung tomorrow after the party?" His son's voice startles him and Vanderwood shakes his head.

"Absolutely not! That guy drives like a maniac." Vanderwood answers. His wife finishes frosting the cupcakes and places them inside the fridge, then looks at the messy kitchen.

"Okay! It's time to clean!"

The two children share a look before climbing off the stools to make their escape, but living with a secret agent has taught MC a thing or two. Her hand shoots out with lightning reflexes and she manages to grip their wrists, that peaceful smile still plastered on her face. Vanderwood has to admit...his wife has moves --moves that never fail to astonish him up to this day.

"Now, now. Your father worked real hard on these cupcakes. It's time for you both to do your parts."

The kids look sheepish for attempting to escape but they start to tidy up the space. Vanderwood opens his arms as MC steps into his embrace, looking up at him and kissing him.

"Mission accomplished, Agent Vanderwood."

"Glad I survived it. I thought I was a goner, MC."

"Next time, we should try baking a cake."

"Ha...baby, we can bake anything you want to. As long as you do it with me, next time."

They share another intimate kiss before their kids start making gagging noises in the background. MC laughs and Vanderwood leaves her side, rolling his sleeves up; cleaning still calms him, and helping them would give him more time to bond with his children.

"Okay, I'll wash the dishes." Vanderwood's words are greeted with happy cheers from his kids. A sense of peace and contentment settles over his body, the once-foreign feeling of happiness making it hard to erase the genuine smile from his face.

This is his greatest adventure now. This is his life mission: to pursue his happiness, to live to the fullest and enjoy little moments like these. The former secret agent turns on the faucet and feels the cool water against his hands. Hands that protect, hands that will cherish this second chance at life.

"I'm home."

✥﹤┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈﹥✥

I know I’ve been quiet for a while here on tumblr, but I’d really love it if you could support my new project @teamicamea-scl​ ;) If you like my works (or you know, romance and angst in general) then please check it out! The brilliant @rossyele​ is my partner for this fic and we’re both out to make hearts break melt :D

Check out my other Mysme writings here! 

Mango Shake/Ko-fi is always very much appreciated (ᵔᴥᵔ)

I’d be honored to write your story <3

He fiddled with something in his trademark leopard-print coat. His cheeks were soon dusted in a bright pink, and the thumping in his chest was amplified. Maybe this is a bad idea, he tried convincing himself. Swallowing the nerves, he reeled back his ambiguity, and finally opened the door.

Greenery was hung from multiple corners of the shop. Potted plants of a wide variety sat cozily on floating wooden shelves that stretched across the walls, contrasting beautifully against the birch. Ground coffee beans, mixed with the smell of fresh petrichor from cracked open windows, created a flowery, nut-smelling incense, and his muscles melted at the first whiff. The door's corner bell rung and staff members called out a welcome while they carried several trays of steaming coffee. The rest, meanwhile, paused as they recognised the old face.

"Nice to see you again, Vanderwood," they smiled and nodded, speaking his name with a tinge more gusto. This caught the attention of the one behind the coffee machine, the girl in the yellow headscarf. She stood on her tippy-toes and peered over the top.

"Same to you," he greeted back. His gaze caught the girl's, and she lowered herself out of sight. He thought it was an odd look she gave him, but thought not much of it while he took a seat in front of her at the bar.

He folded his arms atop the counter, watching her oddly glare at the milk jug under the steam wand. "Hey," he tried to get her attention.

She didn't respond.

"Uhh, hello?" he tried again, but still received the cold silence. "Remember me?"

The girl slammed the jug down on the bench, some milk splashing onto her cheek. She ignored it and poured the foam into the cup, showing a poor attempt at latte art. She then carelessly set the cup onto the saucer, wobbling enough to spill it over the plate, but she didn't seem to care as she took it to a gentleman sitting by the window, who gave the barista a disapproving shake. Vanderwood, thinking he'd seen her enough to know she always took the time to perfect the art of coffee-making with great precision, was taken aback at this sight. He'd never seen her like this before. He glanced at the other staff nearby, their attention caught at the girl's noisy behaviour, hoping for an explanation. They shrugged, only having known as much as he did as to why she was acting the way she was.

"MC, are you mad at me?" he tried a third time.

"Mm hm," she grumbled.

"What? Why?"

She ignored him again.

"I haven't even been here to do anything—"

Vanderwood cut himself off, slack-jawed as realisation dawned on him. He looked at nothing in particular while he thought before looking back to MC. Her eyes finally met his, but they were wide open with eyebrows raised, unimpressed. 'There you go; you figured it out,' her expression read.

"I'm sorry. There were things I had to do."

"Like what?" she quickly bit back.

What Vanderwood wanted to say, the truth he wanted to share with no consequence, was caught on his tongue. He was always telling himself that going to the same place, over and over, for too long was dangerous, and only a recipe for disappointment. For all he knew, the man MC served her coffee to, keeping his head low behind the newspaper he read, was an enemy informant. The other barista, young and hippy with oval optics, tall and muscular, could be a field agent in disguise. He knew better than anyone that looks were deceiving.

He awkwardly cleared his throat. "I got called into work."

"It was awfully good timing, if you ask me," MC argued.

"What the hell does that mean?" 

"You're going to tell me you don't remember an inkling of our last conversation?"

"Hey, come on. It was at least a few months ago."

"Not even the mood?"

Vanderwood, perturbed by her reactions, let his frustration slip. "It seems like the more you ask, the more upset you get. How many times do you want me to say I don't remember?"

She leaned down to the same height as he was, her face in her hands while her cheeks went rosy peach, and sighed in defeat. He sat there, addled. Yet, he couldn't help feeling a shred of enjoyment, undeterred by both sides being as agitated as they were. He couldn't let himself stay feeling that way, not for as long as it was her he was talking to. They hadn't spoken this way before—it was all small talk with some sugar-coated comments here and there up until then. This felt real. Authentic. He liked it.

Her eyes peered from between her fingers. "So, I have to spell it out to you, all over again."

"Seems to be the case,” he shrugged.

Clearly feeling awkward, MC tapped the bench, made some funny mouth noises, and groaned. It took some time before she bit the bullet and put words to her turning thoughts.

"What I was trying to say, before you left so quickly," she began, "was... maybe we could, I don't know, get to know each other."

"I thought we broke the ice ages ago. I know who's in your family, your hobbies, your favourite band—"

"No, I don't mean like that," she huffed. "I meant the other way."

Vanderwood wasn't proud of having 'analysed' MC's body language at their first meeting. It was a tactic used only to observe his enemies that allowed him to calculate the best method of dispatch; to turn their weaknesses against them. He felt as though it would betray the trust MC had naively, in his perception, placed in him. But in this case, he couldn't help but give in to temptation. He wanted to understand her.

He watched her eyes nervously shift to all corners of the room, saw how she bit her lower lip and tapped her fingers across the bartop, trying to uncover her intentions. At last, when he'd connected the dots, he realised he'd seen this language before in many of his foes' paired assignments, and was the exact Achilles’ heel he often exploited in many of his missions.

His hand shifted to cover half of his mouth when he finally caught on. "Oh... you mean 'that' way." His words were muffled.

"Yes, 'that' way," MC reiterated. "I know we've only known each other as the customer and the  barista for however long you've been coming by, but you seem like you would be a nice person to get to know and I, I don't know, I feel like I'm always lonely here when you're not around..."

Yes, I feel the same way! 

His heart cried out, but he did well to keep it concealed. He didn't realise his hand had reached into his pocket at her words, and balled it tightly into a fist, gripping onto the gift. He couldn't bring himself to take it out again. He understood what he'd be doing if he did.

I want to get to know you, too.

 "I don't think that's a good idea."

"What? Why not?" She stammered.

"You wouldn't want to stick around a guy like me. I made you wait for all those months and didn't even think to consider your feelings. You really want to 'get to know' a guy like that?"

MC looked down at her twiddling thumbs. "I... I realise now that you probably had a good reason for not coming by. A-And it's not really fair of me to expect you to when you have a busy life of your own. I'm sorry."

Vanderwood's fist slowly began to loosen. "No, I am. I shouldn't have kept coming. There are reasons why I never stay in one place for long."

"You sound like a man on the run," MC mused. "Sounds adventurous."

"Try 'dangerous'. My situation is... complicated."

"Isn't everyone's?"

"No, you don't understand, MC." He took a moment to look side to side, checking for any watchful eyes of customers. "I can't be close to anyone. No friends, family, colleagues, no one. Even if we were to... you know... it would never work." His voice fell flat, his words drifting away with the cafe ambience.

"How about this--" she began with a new spurt of confidence in her, "give me one month."

"What?" He raised his head. "For what?"

"To change your mind. For one month, I'll be ‘someone 'close' to you. And if you hate it, I won't bother you again. But you have to give it thirty days. That’s the deal."

Vanderwood unfolded his arms and placed his hands flat on the bar. "No. You don't know what you're getting yourself into."

 MC mimicked his actions. "You don't know what you're missing out on."

"I do, and I don't need it."

"But you know you want it."

"Stop goading me."

"Not until I win."

Vanderwood ran a hand through his hair. He grumbled something under his breath with his forehead on the counter, like he was throwing a tantrum. After some time passed, he was still in complete silence, leaving MC to wait anxiously.

Finally he spoke, lifting one finger above his head. "One month. That's it."

"Really!?"

"I won't say I told you so when it all goes to hell... But if you want this to work, we have to do things my way, got it?" His face was stern, but there was a glimmer in his eye and a tug on his lips.

MC, on the other hand, was euphoric. The jitters of asking someone on a date returned to her all at once and her knees were a wobbling mess. Her heart was thumping wildly, but she did well to keep herself in check. She couldn't help but let a fist pump under the counter slide, though. 

"Then it's a date," she beamed.

"I guess, since we're doing this and all..." Vanderwood reached back into his pocket and pulls from it the leopard-print headscarf he'd been carrying with him for the past number of weeks, and sheepishly held it out to her. "I-I got you something. You don't have to wear it if you don't want to."

“You… got this for me?” She delicately plucked the fabric from his fingers. She looked it over, twirling it in her grasp, running her thumbs across the cotton as though it were delicate silk.

In the next moment, she undid her yellow headscarf, her hair falling elegantly onto her shoulders. Vanderwood had never seen her with her hair down before. He watched on as she effortlessly perfected her trademark hair-do with her new accessory. He suddenly felt the need to remove his heavy coat, the room suddenly a hot sauna.

"See? You can do this--you’re already getting your girlfriend a present,” she beamed.

“Easy on the girlfriend talk. It’ll take the first twenty-nine days to get used to hearing that.”

“Oh, I can fix that. You’re going to have the best thirty days of your life.”

☆☆☆☆☆