On the quality improvement of Omega agents

fifth month.

The wind chimes jingle.

The little guy in the crib was babbling vaguely, waving his chubby little hands over and over again.He is a healthy and lively little boy.Bruce leaned down to carefully adjust the blanket on the small wooden bed, and removed the puppet next to the little one.

The rate at which babies grow is astounding.The five-month-old baby is completely different from the wrinkled monkey-like appearance when he was just born.Bruce reached out to wipe away the drool left by his son's unintelligible "grunt" sound.The boy looked at his brown-eyed father with startling blue eyes, then tilted his head in a slightly goofy smile.Bruce watched him, and laughed too. The newly appointed deputy director of the CIA is wearing loose and comfortable home clothes, and the smoke gray sweater looks warm and cozy.

Bruce doesn't come back often, the child is looked after by a special agent, but I don't know if it's the nature of father and son or some kind of induction, this little guy rarely cries when he comes back, most of the time he looks quietly with his big blue eyes Looking at Bruce, there seemed to be some kind of curiosity and doubt in his heart, but when the black-haired man approached him, he would respond with a big smile.Although the child may not understand the meaning of laughter, he can feel that it is a sign of happiness.

The phone rang.

"Hello? Is this Mr. Stewart?"

"Yes, I am."

"The child's birth documents have been sorted out, are you sure to use this name?" The person over there seemed a little puzzled, and he read: "Steve R. James-Stewart"

There seemed to be a bit of plain helplessness in Bruce's tone: "Yes, it's the joint surname, James Stewart." He paused, and couldn't help but glance at the little guy. The owner of the name was being shaken above his head The jingle of the jingle attracts them to dance.Bruce went on: "This kid has two fathers."

Bruce put down the phone.He raised his eyes to look at the time, then changed the sweater on his body, and put on his usual suit over the shirt. The temperament of his whole body seemed to be several degrees colder in an instant.

The man pushed open the door, put a small saucer of milk on the front steps of the house, and left.

A few minutes after the car drove away, a black cat jumped out of the grass on the side of the road, jumped up the steps lightly, and then buried its face in the shallow plate of milk, with a tuft of black hair around its mouth. Stained with a milky white wet stain.

seventh month.

Bruce handles the defection of secret agents from Area I, strikes a cunning "reciprocity" pact with a country intelligence chief far across the Channel, and facilitates a coup d'état in a small South Asian island nation.The two months of busy work made the man look a bit thin, but it also made countless people watching secretly know what kind of iron fist and deep city this man has.No one dared to act rashly under Bruce Stewart's nose anymore.

When the man got off the plane, he lowered his head because of the too harsh sunlight.After all, the sun is rarely seen in the place across the strait.Langley is cold in winter, but it can be regarded as sunny.He heard the private phone ring twice.

is a text message.

From Juan Private Hospital: The patient's condition improved and he regained partial consciousness.

None of the escorts dared to speak rashly, they could only stay in place with the young deputy director of the CIA, carefully observing the expression of the black-haired man when he checked the messages on his mobile phone.Then Bruce stuffed the phone into his pocket, and he looked up to signal everyone to get out of here.Garcia followed Bruce, and she saw a flash of joy on the brunette man's face when he saw the message.And Garcia has always known how good this man is at controlling his emotions, never expressing his emotions or anger.

Juan Private Hospital.

The man in the black woolen coat walked hurriedly.He raised his head in surprise at the sound of the on-duty call. Almost no one came to visit the patients at this point, not to mention that the hospital has a rule that visitors are not allowed to stay overnight.

Bruce smiled at him. "My partner lives here."

The doctor on duty blinked his eyes, and he looked at the black-haired man again, and saw a clear travel and dust on him.He smiled understandingly, and motioned for Bruce to go in.

Randall's room was at the end of the corridor. At this time, there were almost no one else except the inpatients, and it was obvious that the patients living here could not make much "noisy" noise.There was a dead silence in the empty corridors of the hospital.

Bruce jumped when the door opened.

His little leopard was still lying there, motionless.Bruce walks over.

The doctor who informed him had already left work.That damn meeting on intelligence redeployment in Eastern Europe lasted until 11:30 at night, and the speaker finally announced that it would continue tomorrow under Bruce's increasingly frozen face and continued low pressure.Now he can only spend about half an hour with Randall.

They have not seen each other for seven months and nineteen days.Or, to be more exact, Bruce hadn't seen his lover for seven months and nineteen days.in a coma.

The senior officers of the CIA have never known what fear is.Bruce is sure that there is nothing in this world that he cannot face, even if it means losing everything.

— "Everything" is Randall.Randall is everything.

He's just busy, busy clearing the way for his loved ones, busy arming himself stronger so that his little leopard doesn't have to stay in the cage for a second longer.He has done everything, erasing traces of the existence of Omega agents, controlling the mouths of insiders, and taking care of all the people and things that may involve Randall James.Then wait for him to wake up.

Everything seems to have been done.

Bruce was no fool, although it had been more than half a year before he realized it.

All he could do was wait.

Waiting has never been tormented.It's as if all beliefs are being beaten and rubbed all the time, and Bruce imagines his willpower, like those stones placed under a metal grinder, turning to dust bit by bit.The image only flashed in his mind for a moment, and it immediately made him sick.

Bruce Stewart, doesn't get weakened by grinding, either he gets what he wants, or he dies with the despair.Bruce imagined a clean ending for himself, wondering if the blond guy knew his superiors were terrified that he wouldn't wake up, and conjured up some horrible images of losing him. His blue eyes would widen in shock.

No. 11 months.

Steve can already climb very well, he can even stand for a while holding the wooden railing of the crib, the wind chime above his head still attracts his interest, Bruce sits beside the crib, the sun comes at nine o'clock in the morning, Creates a comfortable urge to stretch your limbs.Bruce has even been able to enjoy a lazy, sunny morning lately.He flicked the string of wind chimes casually, and the jingle jingle made Steve stumble up from the cot again, reaching out to the gadget hanging above.The child is full of vitality, and the black hair is not as thin as it was when he was just born, and it is attached to the small head softly.Bruce poked Steve's cheek with his hand. The little boy didn't seem to resist the rough calluses on his father's fingers. He just tilted his head to look at Bruce, and then focused his attention on the bell made of bullet casings again. , let out a series of somewhat vague, giggles.

That string of wind chimes, by the way, was something Bruce tipped over in a glove box in his bedroom, too rough to be a shop-sell item.

——Well, it does look like someone's inconspicuous style as the first gift for a child with bullet casings that I don't know where to collect.

Bruce withdrew his gaze, and turned his attention to the stack of documents on his lap, the report on the redeployment of intelligence resources in Area R and the latest progress on the reconstruction of the intelligence agency in Area I. The CIA's youngest ever head of power can now enjoy a little leisure time with his children, though he can't take all his thoughts from the intrigue.

But such "flexible work" is still enjoyable.

Bruce tilts his head to watch Steve crawling around in the crib.The boy tripped over the blanket and was on all fours. His little fleshy hands were waving wildly in the air, and his mouth was open, spitting out a bubble.The dark-haired man didn't even notice the soft smile in his eyes.He held out a finger and watched Steve grab it, trying to use the strength to get back up.Bruce curled his lips slowly.

No. 12 months.

Bruce had just returned to Langley from Alaska.The cold weather and the malfunctioning arctic training base put him in a bad mood.The man rejected the director's smiling proposal of "Let's come together" at a club where some unknown senior intelligence officials met. He drove alone and returned home.

Yes, the house on Oak Street, Bruce calls it "home" now.

The house was dark and the man opened the door very lightly. A woman came out from the shadow of the living room and nodded to Bruce cautiously. Bruce smiled, "Thank you, Caroline." Lorraine's woman smiled back and left quietly.Her footsteps were silent, and she was obviously a professional agent who had received rigorous training.She will be transferred to a monitoring point in an unknown small country in a few months, and she will never return to this country for the rest of her life.Of course, Caroline will enjoy the highest retirement benefits and a future without worries.

Steve was asleep, the thin blanket draped over the boy, rising and falling slightly with his breathing.The curtains were drawn, and a ray of moonlight came in through the gaps in the curtains, shining on the string of still bullet wind chimes.Bruce glanced at the boy again, then turned and walked into the living room.

A ball game from some time ago was being broadcast on TV. Bruce didn't take off his windbreaker, and the spiciness of the vodka made him exhale heavily.The TV was muted, and the only sound in the huge room was the man's breathing.He didn't know where his premonition came from, what would happen today.Bruce never trusted his gut, but this time he found himself unable to help wishing that something would just happen like a miracle.

He has always been the one who creates "miracles", so it is clearer that there has never been such a thing in this world.

The phone didn't ring that night, like all those nights before. The senior CIA officer watched a silent baseball game and drank vodka from his glass to the spectacle of a silent audience cheering.Fluid burns all the way down his throat, and Bruce wonders vaguely that maybe he hasn't recovered from the Alaskan heat yet.It was too cold there, no wonder, he would like such a strong drink.

The dark-haired man fell asleep sitting on the sofa, and the TV in the living room flickered on and off.The cat with black fur squatted on the sofa cushion, leaned against Bruce, then closed its eyes and curled itself into a fur ball.

Come back soon.Bruce Stewart's last thought as he fell asleep.

No. 15 months.

No one knew that CIA deputy director Bruce Stewart had a one-year-old child.Oh, maybe Garcia is an exception.

At this moment, the female adjutant was sitting in the car waiting for her chief.The secret residence on Oak Street seems to have become Bruce's permanent residence, but Garcia doesn't dare to speculate.All she could do was stare at the string of bullet casings by the window that looked like wind chimes and the unscrupulous black cat squatting on the window sill, and then reconfirmed that Bruce Stewart was a man that no matter how long she followed him, she couldn't see through it.

Bruce rarely notified the female adjutant to pick him up, this time was an exception.Garcia guessed that it was probably because the chief hadn't appeared in the special task force and CIA headquarters for three consecutive days.The man seemed to be in an emergency.

The dark-haired man came down the steps. He got into the car as usual, and motioned for Garcia to start looking through the documents on the back seat after driving.The female adjutant glanced back quietly. There were eye bags and blue shadows under Bruce's eyes that could be observed, but Garcia guessed that she didn't have permission to ask.

When the headquarters arrived, Bruce hurriedly got out of the car and walked into the building without saying a word, only then did Garcia realize that the officer's black trench coat had been left in the car.The female adjutant grabbed the clothes from the back seat and got out of the car. She suddenly noticed something in the pocket of the windbreaker, which lightly knocked on her leg.Garcia paused for a moment, she didn't know what was going on in her mind, and took the object out of Bruce's coat pocket in a mysterious way.

A rattle.

The female soldier stood still and shook the thing in her hand in a daze, and the crisp sound made her tremble.A few junior agents passing by cast their fearless gazes.Garcia hurriedly put the gadget back in its place.

Garcia had a vague guess in her heart. She didn't dare to ask, but it didn't mean she didn't dare to deduce from some obvious facts that her chief, Bruce Stewart, had a baby in his residence on Oak Street.

The child's origins don't even require much guesswork.

——so that a few hours later, the deputy director of the CIA carefully used professional questioning skills to ask Garcia about the specific medicine for a one- or two-year-old child with a cold and fever on the return journey. The female soldier was not shocked Get the car onto the sidewalk.

It was still dark when Bruce got home.He brought the files back to deal with, after all, little Steve didn't sleep well when he left in the morning.

The little boy was sleeping on his small bed, clutching the corner of the blanket restlessly with one hand, with a blush that had just faded from the high fever on his face, looking very cute.Bruce stood beside the child's bed for a while. He didn't dare to turn on the light for fear that the light would wake Steve up. He only turned on a floor lamp in the corner to read those confidential documents in the dim light.

01:30 at night.Little Steve turned over unconsciously, he didn't sleep well, his little face rubbed against the edge of the pillow, and he woke up in a daze.The boy blinked sleepily, and he saw the man in the corner of the room.Like a huge shadow, the person in the corner seemed to have noticed his situation, moved a bit, and then walked towards the bed.Little Steve lets out a cry that's close to a cry, but he sees the person's face clearly before he lets out a full cry.

Bruce leaned down to look at his son, and he put his hand on the little boy's chubby cheek, the sea-colored eyes filled with misty tears, Bruce's voice was soft. "Shh... it's me, it's daddy."

Steve didn't cry, he let out a small sob, his tender face seemed a little unaccustomed to the man's rough palm, and shrank back, but he knew who this person was standing by the bed, and he quickly felt relieved fell into a drowsy state.before this--

"Da-da..." The little boy uttered a babble as if in a dream, and he fell asleep again, the amazing color of blue disappeared between the closed eyelashes, and the soft black hair brushed against the back of Bruce's hand ,Itchy.

The dark-haired man stood there, letting a huge, irrational joy and sourness rise from his chest.

No. 18 months.Randall James woke up in the intensive care unit of Juan Private Hospital.

Bruce was the same as he had been in the past few months, after things settled down at the CIA, he would sit by Randall's bedside to approve papers, or take little Steve into the hospital room where the little boy could be with his other father. Crawl around, as long as you don't tear off the tubes and instruments attached to the blond man.Steve was very curious about the blond guy, he didn't seem intimidated by the other's silence, god forbid, Randall didn't change a lot during the coma, except for a little pale face and a little weight Aside from the descent, he looked indistinguishable from a healthy man.

Bruce and Steve said it was your father.How could a one-and-a-half-year-old child understand this? When Bruce taught him the identity of this man, he had already shifted his interest to Randall's blonde hair, and was thwarted by the black-haired daddy when he tried to grab a handful. .

"Don't grab your father's hair." Bruce said seriously.He saw the little guy's eyes widen suddenly, so he maintained a majestic expression and secretly wondered if he was speaking too seriously.

——"I thought you'd let him call me Daddy."

Bruce turned away.He looked into those blue eyes.

"Eyes, eyes..." Steve still couldn't speak a coherent sentence. The man in my biology department who was lying on the bed woke up suddenly, but he was not afraid. Taking advantage of the moment when his black-haired father stiffened and trembled Getting out of Bruce's arm, he pounced and reached out to touch Randall's eyes.

The blond man's voice was hoarse, but his smile was overflowing.

"Because I'm your father, the little bastard we met for the first time."

He let the kid jump on him, he had Randall's eyes, he looked like Bruce.Black hair brushed against Randall's chin.After a long slumber, everything seemed to recover in an instant.Randall smiled and raised his eyes.Bruce hasn't said a word to him yet.

His alpha mate is expressionless.Randall couldn't help but think of the days when he still called Bruce "sir."He shrunk his neck, then gave a flattering smile.

"Long time no see, Bruce."

The brunette responded with a menacing-looking, tender kiss.

They were so close that Randall could hear Bruce's heart beating like a drum.His alpha ended the kiss without looking up.Bruce Stewart, a legend who can't even mention the name of the CIA, a man as cold and steady as a mountain, buried his head in the neck of his omega, his back tensed stiffly.

Randall exhaled lightly, he reached out to stroke his lover's hair, the black hair slipped out from between his fingers, Randall pretended that he didn't feel any suspicious moisture except for the scorching breath puffing heavily on his neck.

When Bruce raised his head, he had returned to his calm, deep and majestic look. Randall looked at him lazily, showing a teasing expression.His alpha threatened viciously.

"Keep your promise next time." He paused, and then completed his own words. "There will be no next time."

Randall blinked his eyes, and he casually licked his son, whom he had known since the first meeting, and muttered softly as he watched the boy's black hair messed up, as if he had fulfilled some wish.

"I won't, I'll leave without saying hello." He raised his eyes to see Bruce's cold warning eyes, and quickly added, "No matter what, I won't leave you, Bruce."

Everything is over and everything is about to begin.

The blond grinned a goofy grin at his partner.

"Never," he said.

The author has something to say: Keke, this is the finale that has been brewing for a long time!

I'm sorry everyone, I delayed the update because of the course design before, and the tiger fell to the ground and begged everyone to forgive me!

Thank you for your continued support, my dear!

There will be a sweet episode on the weekend~ I love you all XD