Work Text:
Wolfwood snaps a lid on a cup and pushes it toward the center of the counter. He does the same with a few more and then goes to clean up his station. He hears snappy footsteps behind him and methodically moves out of the way.
“Why do you always do this?” Meryl asks under her breath. She calls out the names on the cups and waits with a smile as they’re picked up.
Wolfwood keeps cleaning, stacking milk frothing pitchers in a tidy column.
Meryl turns to him. “Would it kill you to talk to customers?”
“Y’know, it just might,” he says. “Can’t risk that. Roberto hates hiring.”
Meryl sighs, long and low. She makes her way back to the cash register, leaving Wolfwood behind.
The small printer near him spits out a couple of tickets: online orders. Wolfwood peels them off and sticks them to cups. He hated this type of ordering when it first picked up steam. Roberto hadn’t equipped their hole-in-the-wall cafe for it and Wolfwood had been on the verge of quitting with how drinks got mixed up or didn’t come through. Too bad the only other place he’d be able to find a job with early hours would be the campus cafe. Wolfwood would never subject himself to that kind of torture.
It’s all second-nature now, though. He finishes the drinks in a few minutes, secures them in a tray and places them in a plastic to-go bag on the counter. Like clock-work, the bell on their door jingles and a familiar blond strolls in.
Meryl pauses her restocking to look up.
“Hey Vash!”
“Morning Meryl!” He places a large insulated bag on the counter and gently stows the package of drinks inside. Then he looks up, a bright smile on his face. “Hi Wolfwood!”
And try as he might, Wolfwood smiles back. “Hey, spikey.”
—
Vash works as a food delivery driver for one of the bigger online ordering platforms. He primarily serves their college town and pings back and forth between downtown and campus. Since Derringer, the coffee shop Wolfwood works at, is pretty close to school, Vash finds himself picking up orders there the most.
So, Wolfwood is used to seeing Vash pop in multiple times every morning. He always wears a thick red hoodie and round sunglasses. He’ll greet Wolfwood and Meryl (and Roberto if he’s on the floor) in a cheerful tone, make some kind of small talk even if he’s picked up an order there less than an hour ago, and then disappear with a wave. Wolfwood usually catches sight of his clunky moped, too small for Vash’s long limbs, as it carefully pulls out of a spot in front of the shop, speeding away to make a delivery.
It’s odd how Wolfwood’s become so accustomed to this routine. It easily slots into his life, like helping make breakfast for the kids at the orphanage, or sliding into the same seat in the back row of his afternoon lectures. Every morning he puts on his apron, warms up Punisher, the Derringer’s faithful espresso machine, and waits for Vash to stop by to pick up an order.
—
Wolfwood secretly adores rainy days. The business folks who work downtown can suffer through getting a coffee, but most students don’t bother making the trip. He’ll always welcome a less busy morning rush.
Although he supposes it’s not so great for Vash. He stumbles in like a wet dog, no umbrella or raincoat to speak of. The sudden downpour must have caught him off guard. Meryl scurries over, offering some paper towels to help him dry off. He thanks her and uses one to wipe his bag before setting it on the counter.
Meryl gently places lids on the drinks, handing them to Vash one at a time so he can arrange them securely. It’s a large order, but they make it work.
“I think we got it!” Vash says, taking one last look at the list on his phone. “I’ll be sure to drive very slowly. It’d be a waste to mess up all of your hard work, Wolfwood.”
Wolfwood lifts his head up. He’s crouching on the floor, restocking the milk in their little refrigerator. “How’d you know I made them?”
“Oh, well, I saw the latte art before Meryl put the lids on,” he says. “I really like the leaf patterns you made today!”
Wolfwood shrugs, looking away. “It's not a big deal.”
Vash leans close to Meryl. “He really can’t take a compliment, can he?”
“Roberto and I think he’s allergic to kindness.”
Wolfwood closes the refrigerator door harder than necessary. “I can hear you miscreants, y’know.”
Vash laughs, picking up his bag and heading for the door. “Thanks guys! See you later.”
“Be careful out there!” Meryl says.
Wolfwood stands up, watching as Vash bears the rain, clipping the bag to the back of his moped before getting on and driving down the street.
Meryl elbows him. “How many times have I asked you to teach me latte art?”
He sighs. “Too many times.”
Wolfwood’s saved as new customers walk in, hovering by the door as they shake the excess water from their coats.
“Better cover the register, missy.”
Meryl huffs, muttering familiar grievances about her coworker as she goes to ring up orders.
—
Roberto occasionally works the bar. He makes a tremendous effort to stay in the back, counting inventory and such, but whenever it’s busy and Wolfwood or Meryl are due for a break, he’ll put on an apron.
This time, he shoos Wolfwood away. For how aloof he acts, Roberto admits he’s a hard worker. Wolfwood has no complaints about opening the shop every day at an inconceivable hour, and often works through his break when he’s in a decent rhythm.
“Take five, kid,” Roberto says, crowding his space by the espresso machine.
Wolfwood blinks. He glances at the clock and clicks his tongue. Time flew today. He nods in acknowledgment, walking toward the back to hang up his apron. As he reaches for his pack of cigarettes, he sees a familiar pop of red outside. Wolfwood pockets his lighter and swings by the counter, picking up a to-go bag of drinks along the way.
Outside, Vash is sitting on his moped, looking around hopelessly. He hasn’t parked yet because there’s nowhere for him to go. He’s circled the block twice now and is a little frustrated that he hasn’t been able to wiggle in somewhere.
“Hey, blondie.”
Vash turns. “Wolfwood?” He scoots over to the sidewalk, doing his best to not hit any parked cars and stay out of traffic. “What are you doing out here?”
“Break,” he says simply. “This yours?” he asks, holding up the bag.
“Oh! Uh, let me check.” Vash pushes his sunglasses into his hair and takes out his phone. He checks his current order, peeking into the bag to compare the drinks and nods. “Yeah, it’s mine! I’ll just…” he looks around again, hoping someone will leave. “Why is it so busy today?”
“Why is it ever busy?” Wolfwood asks. He walks over to the back of the moped, where the delivery bag is perched. “Open up. I’ll put it in.”
“You don’t–” Vash stutters as he tries to twist around. He quickly gives up and hops off, unzipping the bag and helping Wolfwood place the drinks flat against the bottom. “You didn’t have to do that.”
Wolfwood shrugs. “It’s fine.” He sighs. “Y’know you can double park, right? None of these guys,” he motions to the cars around them. “Will leave in the span of time it takes for you to duck into the shop.”
Vash looks affronted. “No! I couldn’t… I mean, I know I could double park. But I may have blocked traffic. And I would have found a spot.”
“Sure you would’ve.”
Vash shakes his head, unwilling to hear it. He gets back on the moped as Wolfwood pulls out a cigarette. He fishes for his lighter when Vash turns to him.
“I’m sorry for interrupting your break, but thank you for helping me.”
Wolfwood looks down. “S’nothing.”
Vash hums and Wolfwood can’t help but glance over. He’s smiling; Vash’s eyes always seem to shine when he smiles.
“What?” Wolfwood asks flatly.
Vash is about to say something, but changes his mind at the last second. “Ah, nevermind.” He taps his sunglasses down. “Thanks again, Wolfwood. See you next time!”
Wolfwood stands there for a good minute after Vash leaves, trying to figure out what that was all about. He shakes it off with a huff, lighting his cigarette and counting down the minutes until his break is over.
—
When Vash enters the shop, he sees Wolfwood and Meryl leaning against the counter, staring into a box.
“Hey guys!”
Meryl waves at him. “Hi Vash!”
Vash places his delivery bag down and walks over to them. “What’s going on?”
“A potential vendor dropped by with samples,” she explains. “We were thinking of doing a little taste test to see if we can convince Roberto to add them to the menu.”
Vash glances into the box and gasps. Donuts. There are six colorful, pillowy donuts lining the inside. He grips the counter.
“A-Are those from Jeneora’s?”
Meryl pulls off a sticky note from the lid. “Yeah, Rosa from Jeneora’s Pastries sent them. Have you had these before?”
“Um…” Vash struggles not to drool. “A bakery I go to sells a couple flavors occasionally.” He pulls away and quickly wipes at his mouth. “So uh, do you think you’ll stock them?”
Meryl shrugs. “It’s not our call. Roberto has to decide.”
“Too bad Roberto can’t be wooed,” Wolfwood says. “Not unless these things are filled with alcohol.”
“O-Oh… I see.”
Vash gazes at them longingly. Of course his stomach chooses now of all times to remind him that he hasn’t had lunch and is kind of hungry. He tries returning back to his bag, so he can do his job, but his feet aren’t listening.
Wolfwood rests his chin on his palm. “Got a sweet tooth, spikey?”
Vash whines. “Maybe…”
“Do you want one?” Meryl asks. “Technically, we haven’t agreed to work with them so we can’t sell these. And there’s no way we can eat all six.”
“N-No, I can’t,” Vash says, waving his hands. “I’m working. And, uh…” he forces himself to walk away. “I can’t.”
Meryl is about to insist when the door opens and two people walk in. She hides the box under the counter and takes her place at the register. Wolfwood heads to the espresso machine, prepping a portafilter and watching out of the corner of his eye as Vash unenthusiastically places the to-go order in his bag. Just as he’s about to say goodbye, Wolfwood shoves a pastry bag under his nose.
“What?”
“Take it.”
Vash only does so to get the bag out of his face. He opens it and is greeted by two donuts.
“Wolfwood, I told you I–”
“We’re splitting them,” Wolfwood says. “Missy and the old man get two each, and so do I. Never cared for sweets much so,” he shrugs. “If you don’t take them, I’ll throw ‘em away.”
Vash is appalled hearing the alternative. He clutches the bag in his hands, looking between it and Wolfwood. Eventually, he mumbles something like ‘You shouldn’t waste food,’ and holds the bundle to his chest.
Wolfwood picks up a cup and starts working on a new order. “Live a little, blondie. I won’t tell your boss if you don’t tell mine.”
It’s not like Roberto will care. Wolfwood’s sure he’s just as fond of Vash as they are. And while he could have brought them back to the orphanage, he’s worried about the bloodbath that would result from trying to split two donuts among a dozen kids.
Wolfwood hears a crinkle, followed by an emphatic: “Mmm!” He looks over and Vash is already taking a generous bite out of one of the donuts. He hums in delight, rainbow sprinkles stuck on the edge of his lips. Wolfwood laughs.
“Didn’t need as much convincing as I thought.”
Vash swallows, sighing in bliss. “I forgot to eat lunch and–” he thumbs a sprinkle into his mouth. “And I really like donuts.”
Wolfwood smiles. “Good to know.”
Vash drops the rest of the pastry into the bag and stows it in his hoodie pocket. “Thank you, Wolfwood!”
Wolfwood makes a shoo-ing motion with his hand. “Nothing to thank me for. Now get outta here.”
—
Wolfwood exits the shop from the back and walks along the side until he sees the street. He has a cigarette hanging from his lips when Vash stumbles on him.
“Hey Wolfwood!”
He says that Meryl is still working on the order he’s picking up. Since it’s crowded inside, he decided to wait out here.
“Can I keep you company?”
Wolfwood flicks his lighter, waiting for the flame to catch. He inhales and nods. Vash leans against the wall next to him, scrolling through his phone.
“Is this the fourth time I’ve seen you today, spikey?”
“I think so!” Vash says. “That might be a new record.”
He says that orders have been off the charts, likely due to finals starting. Vash has been all over town making deliveries; it’s blurred together, if he’s being honest.
“What about you then?” Wolfwood asks. “When do you have time to study?”
“I only work in the mornings,” he replies, putting his phone away. “Classes in the afternoon, studying at night. Eating, uh, whenever I have time?”
Wolfwood exhales. “Same. It’s the only reason I have the opening shift here,” he says. “There’s no time otherwise.”
“What are you studying?” Vash asks.
“Human Development.”
Vash perks up. “That’s cool! Do you want to go into medicine? Or something in child care?”
“...social worker.”
Vash is silent for a moment, then nods. “Makes sense. It suits you.”
Wolfwood laughs. “Not a lot of people say that when I tell them.”
“Then, maybe those people don’t know you very well,” Vash says softly.
Wolfwood fights the urge to chew on his cigarette. Vash makes it sound like they’ve known each other for longer than a handful of moments here and there. He turns away, as if it’ll hide the flush rising up his neck. “What about you?”
“I’m majoring in biotech.”
That catches Wolfwood off guard. He imagines someone as peppy and helpful as Vash going into teaching or maybe the arts.
“Sounds like a lot of coursework.”
“A ton.” Vash sighs. “When I saw the books I needed I wanted to cry. It’s interesting though, and I mean… it’s what my family thought was best.”
Wolfwood clicks his tongue. “Yeah, that’s tough. You should book an elective course once in a while,” he suggests. “Shake things up.”
Vash mumbles ‘I’ll think about it,’ without much thought.
Wolfwood pulls the cigarette from his lips. He isn’t in a position to assume anything. After all, he chose his area of study so that he could help his family in the future. He understands wanting to support people he cares about. Still, something in him makes him say:
“This is just my two cents but, there’s plenty of ways to please family, or help them, whatever,” he flicks his hand, ashes falling away. “You can’t live entirely for others. Think of how you can do what your family wants while also fulfilling your own interests.”
Wolfwood keeps his eyes forward, but he’s entirely aware of Vash’s gaze on him. He brings the cigarette back to his lips, trying to distract himself. When he glances over, Vash is still looking at him, his blue eyes noticeable even behind those round sunglasses. A gentle smile breaks over Vash’s lips, as if something’s clicked into place for him.
“Say, Wolfwood–”
“Vash? Vash, the drinks are ready!” Meryl says, quickly sticking her head out the door.
Vash doesn’t look away, but he replies with a quick ‘Thanks Meryl!’ to acknowledge her. He pushes himself off of the wall, patting his clothes as if he’d gotten dust on them.
“Thanks for letting me wait with you.”
Wolfwood shrugs.
“I'm glad we got to chat. It was really nice,” he says. “Do you think we could do this another time?”
“Do what?”
“Talk?” Vash wrings his hands. “Um, over lunch maybe?”
Wolfwood’s next exhale is stuttered, the smoke from his cigarette floating up in a distorted way. He runs a hand through his hair. Did he hear that right? It sounded like Vash was asking him out.
“Well, I guess,” he mumbles. “I guess that’d be ok.”
Vash lights up, a bit of color on his cheeks. “Ok!”
As if remembering why he’s here in the first place, Vash scurries inside to retrieve his order. He returns in seconds with his delivery bag full, carefully securing it to the moped. Wolfwood walks over to the sidewalk to send him off.
Vash takes a seat, hands hovering above the handles. “So, I’ll see you next time?”
Wolfwood nods. “See ya, blondie.”
Vash smiles. He gives Wolfwood a little wave and then drives to his destination.
Wolfwood drops the cigarette on the floor, stubbing it out with his shoe. He’s in a bit of a daze for the rest of his shift, pointedly ignoring the anticipation tumbling in his stomach.
—
The following week is hell for Wolfwood. He’s knee deep in final exam papers and projects, a handful of kids caught the same illness at the orphanage, and Vash hasn’t shown up at the shop once. At first, he thinks it’s because Vash is also busy preparing for exams, but by the following week, he’s nowhere to be seen.
Meryl believes Vash might be sick, or that he’s found a new job that’s more flexible. Other delivery drivers have stopped by to pick up orders; she considers asking one of them, but realizes there are so many drivers that it’s unlikely they’d know who Vash is.
Wolfwood doesn’t entertain her theories. It’s none of his business. If they’re being honest, neither of them know Vash all that well. Sure, he stopped by a lot (for work), and he was very amicable (again, for work), but they didn’t know much else about him. Wolfwood knows Meryl better than he knows Vash.
Still, it lingers in his mind for longer than Wolfwood cares to admit.
The small printer near him spits out a ticket.
So what if Vash asked him out? If that was even what he did. He hadn’t been specific.
The small printer near him spits out another ticket.
Vash might not have meant it that way at all. Wolfwood’s the one who built it up in his head. That’s on him.
The small printer near him spits out another ticket.
“Wolfwood?” Meryl walks over. “Whoa, where did all of these orders come from? Do you need help?”
Wolfwood snaps out of it. He glances at Meryl, watching as she sticks orders onto cups and lines them up.
“I got these two. Can you start steaming milk for this?”
Wolfwood takes the cup out of her hand, mumbling something like an apology. He pours some milk into a pitcher and the steam wands whirs to life.
He swallows a sigh. For all Wolfwood’s brain tries to rationalize it, here he is, distracted at work, disappointed that he hasn’t seen Vash in days.
—
The academic year ends a week later. Both Wolfwood and Meryl are staying in town for the summer and agree to keep working at Derringer. It’s a lot slower though. Wolfwood can manage the morning rush by himself and restock as long as Meryl holds down the cash register. By mid-morning, they’re both idling at the counter, discussing their plans for the next couple of months.
“My summer internship starts next week,” Meryl says. “I’ll be here in the mornings, but I don’t know if I can help every afternoon. Would you be able to take some shifts?”
Wolfwood’s about to reply when someone walks in, jingling the little bell on the door.
“Welcome in– oh! Vash!”
Vash gives them both a wave. He’s wearing his iconic red hoodie and sunglasses, but he doesn’t have the delivery bag with him. He stands there, sheepish, and then finally walks in.
Meryl smiles. “It’s so good to see you!” She glances at Wolfwood, who has suddenly decided to clean the espresso machine. “We were wondering what happened to you.”
“Ah, yeah, sorry,” Vash says. “A lot happened the past few weeks.” He looks over at Wolfwood, who refuses to make eye contact.
“Are you still a delivery driver?”
Vash shakes his head. “No, I resigned before finals. I literally had negative free time.”
Meryl nods. “Makes sense. Wolfwood and I were barely able to cover shifts here. Roberto was this close to hiring folks to replace us.”
Vash laughs. “Well, I’m glad things have settled down.”
“I know. It’ll be crickets in here until summer courses start.” She rests her elbows on the counter. “So, what are you up to now? Are you going home for break?”
“Um, actually, I’m starting an internship.”
“That’s great!” Meryl says. “Where will you be?”
“It’s a company called SEEDS. Not sure if you–”
“WHAT?!” Meryl shouts. “Isn’t that the big biotech company?”
Vash makes a vague gesture. “I guess? I won’t be at their headquarters. They have a small office in town.”
“That’s amazing, congratulations, Vash!” Meryl turns to Wolfwood. “Isn’t that cool, Wolfwood?”
Wolfwood spares a glance in Vash’s direction, offering a nod. “Good job, spikey.”
Vash holds his gaze until Wolfwood looks away. “...thanks.”
Meryl claps her hands. “I can’t believe it. Everyone wants to intern at SEEDS. When do you start?”
“Today. Sorta?” he shrugs. “I have an orientation. That’s why I stopped by, to get coffee. I-I also wanted to say hi to you guys.”
“Well, I’d be happy to finally take your order for a change,” she says with a smile. “What do you want?”
Once Meryl rings up Vash’s order, Wolfwood grabs a portafilter and starts pulling shots. As Vash walks over to his part of the counter, a few more people file in. Their idle chatter fills up the awkward silence.
“How… how are you, Wolfwood?”
He shrugs. “Fine.”
“I hope your finals went well.”
“Nothing I couldn’t handle.”
Wolfwood adds ice to the cup and pours milk in. As he waits for the shots to finish he reminds himself to loosen up. Vash hadn’t meant anything by it. He was just being nice that day. It’s not his fault Wolfwood took it the wrong way.
“Wolfwood?”
“Almost done, spikey.”
“Wolfwood, I’m sorry I disappeared.” Vash touches the counter, keeping his voice low. “I didn’t mean to, but the internship thing popped up out of nowhere, and then I had finals and–”
“It’s fine.” He glances at Vash and sees he’s honestly distressed. Wolfwood takes a breath. “It’s not like we agreed to do anything. Just forget it.”
“But I… I do want to get lunch with you,” Vash says earnestly. “I want to go out with you.”
Wolfwood flinches. In his periphery, he can see Vash leaning on the counter, hoping for Wolfwood’s attention.
“I do. If you want to?”
Wolfwood pours the shots into the cup. Meryl, unaware of the tension, excuses herself as she ducks around Wolfwood, grabbing tea bags for a separate order. The students who wandered in move to the counter to wait for their drinks. Vash pulls back to make room, stepping off to the side.
Wolfwood spots his dejected expression and sighs. He pulls a marker out of his apron pocket and bites the cap off. Maybe they were both being idiots.
Meryl delivers the drinks to the other customers and goes back to the register. Once she’s out of earshot, Wolfwood pushes Vash’s drink forward. He mutters “Blondie,” and Vash comes over.
“Thanks,” he says quietly.
“Text me.”
Vash looks up. “Pardon?”
“Text me some dates and I’ll see if I’m free.”
Vash swivels the cup around and sees a number written neatly in black marker. He lights up.
“R-Really?!”
Wolfwood flushes. He’s turned back to the espresso machine, but nods quite deliberately.
“I’ll text you as soon as I get out of orientation! Or maybe during a break? I think I have a break in the middle,” Vash says, a bright smile on his face.
“...whenever.”
“I will! Today. I promise!” He holds the drink like a precious gift. “I have to go. Bye Wolfwood! Oh, you too Meryl, nice seeing you!”
Wolfwood tenses as Meryl slides next to him. “Bye Vash!”
They both watch him amble out the door and down the street until he’s out of sight. Then, Meryl makes a noise, giving him a look.
“What.” Wolfwood asks, unamused.
Meryl turns on her heel. “Nothing,” she says, far too pleased. “Nothing at all.”
Extra
When Wolfwood’s shift ends, he checks his phone and has multiple messages from an unknown number.
Hi Wolfwood! It’s Vash!
Now you have my number :)
Orientation’s starting but I’ll text you after
The drink is so good, ty!!
Oh we have a break
I got my hours and they’re all in the morning!
Want to get lunch tomorrow?
:)?
Wolfwood sighs, but can’t stop himself from smiling. He reaches for a cigarette, lights it, and then sends a reply to Vash.