Chapter Text
"Nicholas D. Wolfwood, I taught you better than that!"
Vash entered the small kitchen space and was immediately greeted by what was the most humble Wolfwood he's ever seen. He was standing in front of a heavyset woman, shoulders slumped as though he was trying to make himself smaller, although it didn't provide much difference when she barely came up to his chest. Vash surmised that would be Miss Melanie.
"There was a lot going on…" Wolfwood defended weakly, hands held up in a placating gesture. Neither of them seemed to notice Vash had entered the room.
The woman wagged her finger disapprovingly, her other hand holding onto Wolfwood’s ruined suit jacket. "No excuse for shabby needle-work. You know how hard it is to get clothes. You could have ruined it beyond repair!"
Vash moved quietly to where Meryl leaned against a kitchen counter at the other end of the room, watching the scene play out while sipping coffee from a chipped mug that didn't quite manage to hide her delighted expression. She shot him a look, eyes sparkling with mirth, and handed Vash his own cup that he accepted with a thankful hum. He wasn’t too fond of coffee, bitter things in general, but the smell promised he wouldn’t have to worry about that.
"Melanie, please…"
"Oh, don't you Melanie me, Nicholas!”
"What is happening?" Vash stage whispered to Meryl from behind his cup.
“I have no idea,” she answered in a voice full of glee, matching his volume. “But I hope it never stops.”
Vash huffed out a laugh. Meryl’s smile was infectious as she bumped their shoulders together. Wolfwood shot a brief, long-suffering look their way before focusing back on the woman still lecturing him.
“You disappear for more than a decade with nary a word to let this poor old woman know how you’re doing, whether you’re even alive!” Melanie continued in a voice that grew more watery by the second, losing its initial heat. “And when you finally do show up you bring me bloody, torn up clothes to mend! What did you get yourself into this time, you foolish boy?”
Wolfwood looked down at her helplessly, mouth half-open but no words coming out as his old caretaker watched him expectantly. “I’m sorry,” he managed finally, voice rough.
Melanie sighed, expression softening. “Well, I suppose what’s important is that you are back.” She brought up a hand to cup his cheek affectionately. “I’m going to go get this washed up. Once it’s dry I can show you how to sew it up properly, hm?”
Wolfwood breathed out shakily, still looking torn. “Yeah. Okay.”
Melanie shook her head but there was a good-natured smile on her face. She patted Wolfwood’s cheek one last time before taking her hand away. It was at this point that she finally seemed to notice Vash, eyes going wide. He gave her a small wave.
“My goodness! How’d I miss this beanpole of a man coming in here. In a bright red coat, too!” Melanie left the still stricken Wolfwood behind her to approach Vash instead, arms coming up to grip at his elbows fretfully with the jacket still swung over her shoulder. Meryl grabbed his cup before it could get knocked out of his hands and he shot her a thankful glance. “How are you feeling, sweetheart? You gave us all quite a scare, you know? Sleeping for as long as you did.”
“Ah, sorry, I didn’t mean to cause any trouble,” Vash laughed sheepishly, holding right back to Melanie’s arms. He gave her a grateful smile. “Thank you for letting us stay here. It means a lot.”
“Oh, it’s no trouble,” she laughed, waving him off. “I’m just glad Nico has some friends around.”
Vash heard Meryl snort from behind him. “ Nico .”
“I know Wolfwood cares a great deal about you,” Vash continued, trying to stifle his own laugh, while the man in question was glaring daggers at them from the other side of the kitchen. “It’s an honor to get to meet you, truly.”
“Oooh! And he knows how to pick a real charmer, hm?” she laughed, loud and boisterous, hand swatting at Vash’s arm playfully.
“Melanie—” Wolfwood pleaded tiredly, coming up behind her and putting his arms on her shoulders.
“Right, right, I’m going,” she relented, untangling herself from Vash who sent her one last grin and allowing Wolfwood to lead her in the direction of the door. “Wouldn’t want this old woman to impose on you kids.”
“You’re a delight, Miss Melanie, you could never impose on us,” Meryl objected sweetly and earned herself a glare from Wolfwood.
Melanie chuckled. “Thank you, sweetheart, but I’m afraid this one doesn’t agree with you,” she said, patting Wolfwood’s arm good-naturedly. “I do have children to take care of, besides. I’ll make sure none of them come here to bother you.”
“ Thank you ,” Wolfwood said with finality, all but pushing Melanie through the door.
“Bye, Miss Melanie,” Vash and Meryl said in unison and she gave them one last wave from behind Wolfwood before he closed the door after her. He spun around to face them with a frown.
“Not a word about any of this.”
“Sure,” Meryl said, sipping her coffee smugly. “ Nico .” Vash snorted, picking up his own forgotten mug back up from the counter.
“Real bold of you to annoy the guy who was about to make you breakfast, you dolts,” Wolfwood huffed, crossing his arms.
“I’m sorry,” Meryl said, sounding like she was anything but.
Wolfwood rolled his eyes and walked over to where the two of them leaned half against each other and half against the kitchen counter. "I need space to work, so skedaddle. Go sit at the table like normal people."
Meryl complied with a snicker, taking her cup and sitting cross legged in one of the four chairs at the little table in the middle of the room.
"I could help with—" Vash's offer was cut off by his indignant yelp, one of Wolfwood’s fingers jabbing into his side. "What was that for?"
"Eggin' on Melanie," he grumbled. "Go sit down."
Vash was about to argue but decided to scamper off when Wolfwood's hand hovered dangerously close to his ribs again. He sat next to Meryl with a pout and she patted him on the shoulder comfortingly.
"You can cook?" Meryl asked, doubt coloring her voice as the two of them watched Wolfwood busy himself around the kitchen.
"Why so surprised, Shortie?" he said from where his head was halfway inside the fridge.
"You eat worms," she deadpanned.
"So would you, if you were hungry enough."
"They're not that bad," Vash defended. Meryl scrunched up her nose at him.
"You're both disgusting."
A gas stove hissed to life followed shortly by the sizzle of butter in a pan. Vash felt his stomach twist, both with hunger and an old, familiar guilt. This food was meant for the orphanage. He could go a couple more days without eating before it became a problem. Then again, he doubted Meryl and Wolfwood would let him skip a meal after he’d already admitted he was hungry.
Before Vash could attempt to plead his case Wolfwood was already sliding a plate of scrambled eggs in front of him, along with a fork. The smell hit his nose and he suddenly felt much less hesitant about eating. He couldn’t remember the last time he’s had a warm meal, worm meat notwithstanding.
Meryl eyed her own plate with some suspicion. Wolfwood sighed as he handed her the fork. "Don't worry, Shortie. It ain't exactly plant engineering. I can handle a couple of eggs without givin' us all food poisoning."
“I suppose…” she said, still uncertain.
“Spikey seems to like it well enough,” Wolfwood pointed to where Vash was already halfway through his meal. He gave them a thumbs up and an appreciative hum before going back to scarfing down food.
Meryl sighed and took a bite of her own, chewing slowly, like she half-expected to have to fight the urge to gag the second it made contact with her tongue.
“Huh,” she said after a moment, swallowing. “This is actually pretty good.”
“What did I tell you?” Wolfwood scoffed, sitting opposite to Vash with a plate of his own. “Where’s your faith, huh?”
“I think I lost it sometimes around the time you told me that the two of you dummies tried to hold up an ion cannon with your bare hands.”
“Why do you only get on my case about it? Spikey was right there with me.”
“In our defense—” Vash intercepted, with his mouth full “—it did work.”
“That makes it worse, somehow,” Meryl muttered. “But I guess I do owe you an apology. Thank you for the food, Wolfwood. It’s delicious,” she added genuinely. Vash made an affirmative noise next to her.
“You’re welcome,” he answered with a smirk, chin resting in his palm. “Was that so hard, now?”
“You make it really difficult to compliment you.”
Vash finished his own meal with a satisfied sigh. He leaned back in his chair and went back to nursing his now lukewarm coffee. His legs knocked with Wolfwood’s underneath the table but neither of them bothered to move. Meryl has slowly but steadily gravitated towards him during their meal and the two of them were pressed side to side at this point. Vash focused on the casual contact, the familiar cadence of their good-natured bickering. It wouldn’t last, moments like these never did, but he let himself enjoy it while he still could.