Requested by ERIS1965!

Play the music if you'd like, it adds to the atmosphere! Also sorry if this story is a little long, I really got into writing it,

Enjoy!~

1957
Paris, France
"The city of love~"

Late afternoon, the busiest time of day. People tended to gather at outdoor cafés to grab a quick, light bite, while sipping on excellent wines, when the time of day came for them to be on their way somewhere for business. If not, then they'd be dining at a lovely restaurant, being served the finest cuisines Paris had to offer whilst they made small talk with their close friends.

You were currently speeding through the Romanesque streets, your tear streaked eyes flashing in the burning orange sun shafts, that of which were just barely peaking over the tall rococo styled buildings. Crying wasn't even close to on your mind, as the buffeting wind had been puffing at your eyes causing them to water.

Vespas, while usually thought of as bright red and only in Italy, were quite common in this time, and in fact did exist in Paris. Baklava pulled tightly around your head, your hair didn't sway in the breeze like in the cliché movies. Riding a Vespa down the beau neoclassic streets, over cobblestone paved hills and past tall structures with the architecture that reflected this beautiful city? It would have been quite nice, if not for the circumstance you were currently in. 

Police men had their neon blue and red lights flashing behind you, shouting inaudible French words. Their speeding humming vespas were louder than your own. The sirens were crisp and shrill, alerting nearby residents at outdoor cafés of your presence.

As you were no sort of fool, you knew the police and their tricks. Being a Spy, you had plenty of fresh tricks up your sleeve. Plenty of those tricks you had learnt from your father and mentor, Laurent. Or, more rather, the Spy, the one who stole the Mona Lisa and got away with it.

Being his daughter, and the one who had gone on plenty of missions with Spy before, they knew something was up when you pulled one of his tricks, trying to cloak when you stole something. They knew that trick as one of Spy's oldest, and had immediately doused you in water. That's when you stole a nearby black Vespa to escape, but they were hot on your trail.

Simply on vacation from RED, you hadn't expected this. They were already after you for you and your fathers crimes, and chased you down the moment your private jet had landed unannounced in private property near Paris. Deciding that for the hell of it you'd steal something, you hadn't realized they lay waiting to pounce. But you had one more way to escape.

Making haste, you pulled onto the sidewalks lining the streets and quickly dismounted your Vespa. The cops found this to be amusing, and drove right by the gray cobblestone sidewalks as you fled over it. They were quickly gaining on you, and you smirked. Darting out in front of them across their path, they all tried to turn to chase you, but the first police man had hit his breaks in the effort not to hit you. One by one, the police motorbikes crashed into each other, their sirens calming.

Quickly running back, you made sure to knock each one out with a nice pinch in the spinal nerve while they lay in pain, all so they couldn't give chase or see where you went next.

Slowly pulling off your signature baklava, you breathed in the fresh cool air that filled your lungs with the evening breeze. Swishing your hair around to give it some air from being trapped in your baklava, you looked around the streets to see if anyone had seen the display. Nobody was present, however, but after a crash like that, an ambulance and possibly more police would soon arrive.

Feet landed neatly on the cobblestone as your heels clicked, running up the hill and to a busy square in Paris. Hastily blending into the crowd, you looked like you were going somewhere important. Dressed pristine and preppy, an ironed pastel dress and stern look on, people parted for you as you made your way through the throng of  monsieurs et misses. Some children were present, but very few as nuit (night) was to be here soon.

Soft, classic French music swayed through the air. The accordions, accompanied by soft strums and clicks of drums, accented the already beautiful Gothic/Romanesque scenery. It made you sigh in happiness and bliss. Oh, how you missed your birth place- to be back was like a phantom dream, a quiet murmuring memory.

Art, one of your favourite things, was all around you. The cheerful music, the swaying trees dancing along, the architecture in the buildings, the retro fashion, the cuisine, you loved it all.

While making your way through the busy center, you passed a man staring blankly around in the dead center. He was staring at a tall structure in the distance that was barely visible, the Eiffel Tower.

He wasn't dressed as all other citizens of this time, rather more like someone rugged and expected to be found somewhere less 'classy'.

His clothes were muddy and stained, but he didn't seem to mind the least bit. His dim red vest and dusty brown hat were the most clean looking articles of clothing on him, being for the most part dirt free. His orange shades, flashing in the setting sun, made him seem all the more mysterious and new, and you slowly approached him from behind. He seemed very familiar, but you couldn't pinpoint why.

Maps flew away from his grasp as he fumbled with a particularly large one, and they flew right into your path. Quickly, before the wind could steal them, you snatched them from the breeze and brought them back to him.

"Excuse me, Monsieur, 'ou dropped your map." Your voice dripped with your French accent. That's when you realized, that if he was in France, he may not speak English- which was the language mainly used back at the RED base. You were about to correct your misspeaking, but he started to speak while slowly turning towards you, so preoccupied that he didn't even realize you weren't another French speaker trying to help the lost man.

"Oh, Oi didn't realoize. Thanks. This dahn map is gettin' on moi ner-" he stopped, and looked up from the large map he was holding. His words were cut off as he looked at you, and you looked at him.

"(Y/n)..?"

"Sniper?!"

The both of you had cried out at the same time, you more loudly than him.

"Wot are you doin' 'ere?" He cocked his head and folded/crumpled the map in his hands into a wrinkly mass that resembled a square. The two of you knew each other from the RED base, and you weren't expecting to find him here of all places for vacation.

"That would be a better question for 'ou, Sniper." Your deadpan face looked at his blank expression. His face turned from confused, to an 'oh yeah you live here' kind of face.

If you could, at this moment you would have face-palmed. You handed the maps to him that cluttered your hands, and motioned for him to follow.

"Where are we goin', shiela?" He asked.  Turning to him you smiled.

"Glad 'ou asked, mon Cher! We can walk and talk on our way to a nice café, if you're up for it."

Sniper smiled as well, and nodded.

"Ok mate. Just so yah know, Oi'm not doin' any fancy shmancy Frenchy talk or anything. Alroight?" You were laughing and nodding at his word usage, and he chuckled a bit.

"May I see ze map?" You asked in that goddamn sexy accent of yours. (#soos)

"Sure." Handing you the crumpled mass of maps, you unfolded the large one and examined it. For some odd reason, the language and place was unrecognizable. Looking for a legend, you instantly started to laugh very loudly, catching Sniper off guard.

"Wot?" Sniper said. "Wot is it, (y/n)?"
Glancing at the map, he pointed to a shrewdly drawn replica of the Eiffel Tower done in ink, with the words 'Eifal Towar' written next to it with a smiley face.

"That's where we ahre roight now mate. Isn't it?"

You just laughed harder, and he patiently waited for you to calm down.

"This.. this is.." you were still bubbling with laughter, but managed to speak.

"This is a map of all of Russia, in Russian!" Snipers face turned red, and he pointed to the Eiffel Tower drawing.

"But Oi asked Spoi before Oi left, and 'e said that's where the Eiffel Tower is! And Oi assumed we were here." He pointed to Moscow. Laughing until your sides nearly split, you handed him the map. Classic Spy, always pulling things like that. That's my dad! You thought fondly.

"That ees Russia, Sniper. But do not be alarmed, I know my way around these streets. 'Ou and I shall arrive in no time to our destination- if we take a Vespa, however."

"'Our destination' ?" He quoted you, confused.

"Oui. I was thinking we could grab dinner and see some sights- only if 'ou are up for it, of course."

"Okay mate."

"Splendid! Let's grab a Vespa and hop to it, then. The sun is setting."

"Vespa?"

He looked at you confused- you thought his face would contort so much so in confusion that it would fall right off.

"It... it is a vehicle that es like the American motorcycles, but more efficient?" The explanation was more of a question than an answer, and Sniper's face was even more confused, if even possible at all.

"Well, it looks like that." Pointing to a nearby Vespa, he looked at in in awe.

But his eyebrows furrowed as he glanced back at you. 

"There's only room for one, though?"

All the while smiling, you nodded your head to a nearby man and his presumably wife, as they mounted a Vespa and drove over the hill into the sunset like a cliché movie.

"Oi'm droivin' then." He didn't want to mount it behind you, as his cheeks reddened at the thought.

"It's fine with me, as long as 'ou have a license on you."

"...Shit."

Soon, the two of you had, LEGALLY, mind you, acquired a Vespa to drive to the destination. Mounting it, you patted the extra room behind you and waited patiently. Sniper mounted it and put his arms hesitantly around your waist. He pulled his hips forward right up behind yours, and you could feel his firm chest against your back. Your cheeks reddened, as did his, but neither of you could see each other's faces.

The humming of the sleek vehicle as it bumped down the cobble road was soothing, along with the slow breeze on your face. You had tied aside your hair before riding, however, so it wouldn't whack sniper, which he was grateful for. (If you have short hair disregard)

It was a much needed change of scenery, as before you had been going so fast that Sanic was jealous.

Sniper sighed in content, and his grip loosened. Feeling his tight arms around your waist loosen, you smiled. Despite the fact he hates Spies, he didn't seem to mind France. That made you happy for some odd reason.

His breath on your neck, however, was making you shift in your seat. Goosebumps chilled along your neck and arms, and you had to grip the handle of the motor vehicle tighter so you wouldn't shiver.

As you bounced down the cobble road, you could also feel his back and hips buck against you. Face reddening, this isn't what you had imagined at all. Moreso, you'd imagined like in the movies, where the girl held tightly to the guy as they zoomed away happily. Sadly, Sniper had forgotten his license in his camper, which he had parked near his countryside lodge he was staying in. It was quite a far walk from Paris, so you had rented the vehicle yourself to drive.

But you weren't complaining.

You slightly leaned back into his large, warm chest, and his hips bucking against you made you blush intensely. He smirked at you leaning into him, his face becoming almost flustered as well.

Soon, however, the calm ride had to end as you reached the small rococo influenced café, it's beautiful structure built from the ground in grand silver and gold swirls and arches, classic paintings of ladies dressed fancily with umbrellas in parks, men wearing suits accompanying them. The windows were stained with bright, pastel colors and read, 'Café du Soleil', or, rather, Cafe of the Sun.

Small, grassy parks filled with small metal tables, carved with swirls and golden umbrellas, were scattered all around it, as it was the most modern, busiest, and largest café in all of Paris.

Parking the Vespa, Sniper and you made your ways slowly to the café.

"That was a pleasant ride." You hummed contentedly. Sniper hid under his akubra and nodded absentmindedly in agreement.

When you reached the regal café, you both went up to the counter. Speaking silky French that Sniper couldn't understand, he quickly got bored with trying to figure out what you were saying. His eyes shifted around the grand place, looking from the large indoor seating to the outdoor tables. Inside there was a bar with barstools, and a few fancily dressed French citizens gathered.

His silver eyes weren't very visible through his sunglasses, so he let his eyes wander back to you. He looked at your beautiful hair, and wondered if he was allowed to run his hands through it. Looking down your body more, he found himself staring slightly too low and averted his gaze out of dignity. His mother taught him better. (Unlike the last story, smh)

Finally you had arranged things with the server, as you had to show identification that you were actually (F/N) (L/N), Spy's daughter. Spy owned this large café, which is why you could eat free here anytime you liked.

"Sniper?" You snapped him out of his deep thoughts. He was thinking about you.

"Are 'ou ready to go, or do you wish to stare into space for ze next hour or so?" He smiled, and nodded.

"Yeah, mate. Sorry, Oi'm just distracted boi this beautiful place."

But it's not as beautiful as you.

The words kept echoing in his mind like a pounding hammer. Smooth talk never was his thing, but he did want to impress you..

It was too late now, however, as you two reached a small elevator. Inside the elevator was a woman dressed very uptight, with a neat pencil skirt and snobbish expression.

The woman looked down her nose at Sniper, but easily crumbled under your glare. Fumbling a bit, she pressed the buttons and entered the code and soon the elevator rose.

Once the elevator reached its stop, the lady held the door. The two of you walked out into a large expanse of grass and garden flowers flowering all over the roof of the building, with beautiful orange light peaking through cascading vines arched over the sign for the café.

The sign in front of the café was on the ledge, so one could lean on it like a bench. It has flowers cascading down it like a waterfall and the flowers were flowing through the place like pebbles in a river. You couldn't even see the backside of the sign, unlike most ugly billboards on highways, there were so many flowers on it. In front of the glory of flowers was a small table, and you seated yourself at it.

"I wouldn't touch that if I were 'ou." You said to Sniper, who was poking a large golden flower.

"Whoi's tha- agh!" The flower clamped over his hand, and he retracted it quickly. With all the dignity he could muster, he moved towards the table and sat himself down.

"Never wear a hat at the table." You said light heartedly, amused that he didn't know the simplest of manners. He reached up and removed his hat, then set his elbows on the table. A cool breeze blew through, ruffling the hairs on his head that were originally matted down due to hours of being stuck under the hat. He pulled his arm up and ran it through his hair, messily pulling it back into a sort of neat combed but messy look. It was kind of cute. But then... his manners!!

"'Ou know, elbows on the table is considered rude. But, your arms should be visible and not resting in your lap. Flowers are also usually given as a gift to a lady, but never in bunches of odd numbers. You should also-"

"But Oi didn't know we were havin' dinnah togeth-!" You cut off his protest.

"-only eat when invited to by your host. Cross your knife and fork on the plate, fork over knife, if you have not finished eating and need to excuse yourself. Oh, and one more thing."

Looking at Sniper, you could tell he was having trouble. He had his arms up and visible, but elbows not on the table. His arms were hanging there awkwardly, he hated having his hat off, and he was very confused.

You finished your sentence. "You're doing it wrong." He sighed, relaxing his arms and looking down. "But I don't mind, if anything it's kind of cute."

He jolted up, and you instantly realized what you said.

"Um.." you looked away, but just in the nik of time a waiter came through the elevator and interrupted the awkward moment.

He asked you if you'd like the usual in French, and you nodded, still awkward and slightly glowing red from the previous moment. He asked about Sniper, and you glanced at him.

"Boeuf bourguignon." You said. The waiter nodded and left quickly.

"So, uh.. Can Oi ask wot that was about?" Sniper looked at you. You blushed, and Sniper stuttered.

"U-uh, I mean the waiter.." his face darkened red as well, and you two sat in silence for a moment before you spoke again.

"The dish I asked for you is stew made of beef braised in red wine, beef broth, and seasoned with garlic, onion, and mushroom.. It's actually really good, despite how it looks."

Sniper nodded.

"Is that the koind of stuff served in France? When Oi'm  in Australia, I usually buy some Oreos from thuh market. It's a brand new kind'a  cookie- really good though."

You laughed. His mention of the lovable snack cookies was cute, they were one of your favorite desserts as well.

Soon dinner was served. Meals were generally prepared with heavy sauces and complicated preparation in this day and age, and this café was no exception to this norm.

Waiters flocked around you, setting your dish down and Sniper's as well. Some set up candles around the table and garden, while others pulled out elegant trays with dipping sauces and your meal. All the while, Sniper sat confused and flustered by all the fanciness.

And just like that, they were gone, leaving the two of you in silence with the fancy dishes. Sniper sat there, and gulped. His eyes darted from the seven different kinds of silverware, all the way to the intricately detailed platters and the delicately sewn drapery serving as a placemat.

"Yes, I know eet is something to take in. I generally don't give a shit about all the dinners rules. Bon apetít!"

Sniper heaved the loudest sigh of relief ever known to man, and his jaw unclenched. He, of course, waited to see what you'd do before he dug in. He watched as you grabbed some sauces in fancy silver cruits, pouring them all over your food then chucking them aside.

Shrugging, he took one of the assorted forks and swirled it in his dish, grabbing a large chunk of the meat and eating it. He looked up while chewing to see you, face in your plate, eating like a hog. He almost choked on the meat he was eating. Almost. After he swallowed it, he watched you intently, a very small smile evident.

It was so unfamiliar and out of character for you to just be slurping and gulping the dish up as you were, but it wasn't unwelcome. He actually thought it was kind of cute..

Grasping his soup bowl, he downed it in a couple of gulps. Here you were, in the fanciest, most well off café in Paris- and you were slurping like pigs.

After the meal was over, you two sat in silence. Suddenly, you let out a large burp- but immediately pulled your hand up to your lips, eyes widening in surprise. Musing an apology, Sniper waved it off. He was having too much fun to mind.

Soon, the night had to end. After the meal, you had laughed it up with Sniper- how odd it was, the way things were run so fancily- and how you both loved each other's company. He'd even shared the story about how he came to be enemies with Spy, and you found that amusing since he was your father. He'd rested his hand on your shoulder and looked you square in the face, saying,

"But you're different from him, Oi can tell."

That moment had made your heart jump, bump, and stop your breathing. The time had come so close to stopping before the two of you had snapped out of it.

But now, it was time to leave.

"It was great company, being with you..." you mused. The two of you were walking out of the café.

"I.. I had fun too, mate. Er.. (y/n). But.." he took a short pause, taking a deep breath.

"there's one thing that's been on moi mind for awhile now.."

He trailed off, and the two of you stopped walking. You had stopped under a street lamp in the starry filled night, and looked up at Sniper. Every shadow seemed to lick around his face, crisply defining his strong elongated jaw, thick neck, stubble, carved face, even his steel colored eyes seemed to shine brighter than the stars. Your eyes whisked from his stunning eyes, to his Adam's apple, and to his chest, where you wish your head could lay at this moment to make it perfect.

You suddenly saw the height difference between the two of you. He was the second tallest one on the team, only a few inches short of beating Heavy. Looking up at him, though, instead of being intimidated...

You felt safe.

But what was on his mind..? Your heart skipped a beat as he said the next words to his speech.

"Oi've been with you all day, and I'm starting to not want to leave you.. Yah not only make me feel happy, but also wanted. Oi don't feel so detached from the world when Oi'm with yah, and you make my world seem somewhat.." He searched for a word for a moment, all while you listened intently.

"..livelier. Worth being in. I guess... I guess what I'm sayin' is.." His breath tickled your cheek. For a moment he hesitated, unsure of himself. Self doubt and sudden realization that you didn't seem moved at all was causing him to stop his confession.. So you took action.

You reached your hand up to his face and cupped his chin, brushing your thumb over his cheek. It had some stubble that tickled your thumb, but you payed no heed as you stared him in the eyes.

"I know.." your soft words were on the wind as the moment swept the both of you up. He leaned down, and you leaned into his embrace. His large hands made their way around your waist, holding you like a delicate flower, and your lips connected.

The bliss was sweet as you tasted the light wine from the dinner, and smelled the smoky but fresh scent that radiated from him. Your arms wrapped around his neck, and the two of you were in your own world, like nobody else, nothing else, mattered.

Yo, this story was wiggity wiggity wiggity wack! (Only 90's kids will understand T-T )

How many stories is it possible for me to produce in one day before I die

Seriously this is the fourth story today (I think?)