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Vash isn’t very good at showing affection. He feels it, deeply and for everyone he meets, but expressing his particular fondness for Meryl and Wolfwood presents new challenges.
He can’t say it. Speaking it into existence risks losing it in his mind. To put a name to how he feels would be to doom it. And he can’t simply reach out and show affection with physical things. He’s not worthy, he believes, to touch either of them or be touched in return with love and kindness.
But he can get them gifts. He has money, occasionally. Enough spare cash to spend on little things. They’re not much, never enough in his mind, but they’re something.
He’s out one evening getting dinner for everyone when he spots a little general store. He’s been worried about them recently; Meryl’s been fidgety and Wolfwood hasn’t been sleeping as much, both of their own bubbles of anxiety driving them to their limits in different ways.
Vash isn’t sure what he’s looking for but eventually he comes to the counter with a leather bound journal and a nice knitted throw blanket. They’re not expensive, not really, and he’s got enough money for them and their dinner.
When he gets back, he finds the two playing cards and sets dinner down in the middle of their game before rummaging in his other bag. Curious, Meryl glances up from opening the takeout boxes to watch him.
“What’d you get, Vash?” she asks.
Vash answers by handing her the journal, a little smile in place, and before Wolfwood can finish grabbing his dinner he’s plopped the blanket onto his lap. They both stare at him, baffled.
“Thought you could both use something nice,” he says simply.
Meryl gawks at him. “You didn’t have to buy me anything,” she says, flustered, but Vash just waves her off fondly.
Meanwhile, Wolfwood’s eyes linger over the blanket a moment as he smooths his hands over it. It’s soft, Vash made sure, and big enough to wrap himself up in on colder nights. When Wolfwood looks up at him he seems lost.
“What do I owe you?” he asks quietly, hesitant.
Vash smiles and chews the inside of his cheek. “Nothing,” he says lightly.
Wolfwood still looks confused but slowly he looks back down at the blanket, going quiet. Vash reaches over to grab his food and nudges Wolfwood and Meryl’s closer to each of them. When whatever trance he’s in finally seems to break, Wolfwood picks up his food and starts eating, keeping the blanket in his lap when he scoots his chair in closer to the table.
Meryl scoots her chair just a bit closer to his when Vash sits down between them for his meal. “Thank you,” she says softly. Across from her, Wolfwood grunts a similar noise between bites.
“Don’t have to thank me,” Vash says, even if he’s glad they did–glad they liked the simple items. He preens a little, sitting back in his chair as they lapse into silence for their meal.