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Vash comes home late, again, as usual. Their apartment is cramped, and dark, save the light peeking out from beneath the bedroom door. Making no effort to be quiet, the door closes with a thunk, his keys drop into the bowl just inside, followed by his bag full of books off his other arm to the floor. Tiredly, he shuffles to the fridge, grabbing his nightly energy drink to power him for the next few hours of studies before he can sleep. The brief flash of light has him squinting as he pops open the can.
The bedroom door is slightly ajar. Not writing, then, but still too preoccupied to hear him thumping around?
Oh. Earbuds in, that would do it. He’s ready to drop, because the caffeine hasn’t hit his system yet, and continues to not even try to sneak around like he might, sometimes. Often. Nicholas still jumps, knocking Vash’s teeth together just as suddenly as he’d rested his chin on Nicholas’ head. “What you get,” is all he mutters, both of them rubbing their sore spots.
Vash groans, but can’t argue right now. Maybe in the morning. He gulps down more of his drink, almost gone already. He’s going to be so jittery later. “What’s with the calculator?” It takes all his willpower not to drop his full weight into his own chair, lest he break another.
“Bills? It’s the end of the month.”
They blink at each other as Vash processes his words. “Right."
“Right,” Nicholas says back. “Your classes've been running late, so I thought I’d help, but.” He cuts himself off, jaw tightening as he looks back down at the scattered papers before him.
Vash takes a slow breath in through his nose, letting it out in a hushed, tired little laugh. A pout is already forming on his boyfriend’s face. “Tell you what: it’s safe to say neither of us has had dinner yet, yeah?” Nicholas nods at him. “Go throw us something together, and I’ll do the bills." He leans his good arm on their shared desk, facing Nicholas and the mess, chin dropping into his hand. Heavy.
“This happens every month,” he grumbles as he rolls his eyes, but he’s standing up anyway. He opens his mouth.
“Next month,” Vash says with him. That earns him a scowl. “Or the month after that. We have time now, Wolfwood.”
Nicholas’ eyes widen, as they always do when Vash calls him by that name. And then he smiles, as he always does. “Alright then, Stampede, have it your way.”
Vash snorts, and leans into Nicholas as he gets a short kiss to his hair before he’s left alone.
He would always be amazed by Nicholas’ many talents, like how he could make a good soup with the little they had in the pantry, or his ability to tangle numbers. He unravels their bills, and the earbud cord from the mouse cord, listening to the humming and clanking the wall over. The smell is heavenly, doubly so for how hungry he is, as he stacks their bills, ready to be sent out, and joins Nicholas in their tiny kitchen.
“You know,” Vash starts, days later, “we really oughta automate this stuff online one of these days.”
Nicholas almost drops the blazer he had halfway onto a hanger. Looks down at their laundry basket as he recovers.
“The bills, I mean,” he offers to the raised eyebrow he’s being given. “Not the laundry.”
“No, hold on. All this nice tech here. Why can’t we automate laundry too?” Nicholas grouches, and goes to hang up his blazer finally. They sort and fold in silence again, until Vash smiles down at the T-shirt in his hands. A gag gift from Livio that probably wasn’t intended or expected to even be kept, with an arrow pointing up, and the words “My Eyes Are Up Here” in big block letters, low on the stomach, to accommodate the deep V-neck cut.
“Ugh, that shirt is not funny."
“Then get rid of it.”
“No.” Nicholas poorly covers his pout, opting to hide behind the towel in his hands.
“I don’t mind it, you know,” Vash says, as he comes back from putting the towels in their little bathroom closet, and leans on the bedroom door frame. “This quiet. I’ve gotten quite used to this life, you know.”
Nicholas shoots him a knowing smile. “I guess it’s not half bad. Could do without the taxes, though.”