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Nicholas D Wolfwood has always found comfort in cooking and baking. Growing up at Hopeland, and being a rather helpful young boy, he often helped Miss Melanie cook food for the other children. It was one of the best parts of his simple days, and he liked being able to create something amazing with his own hands a few ingredients. It made him feel special.
There was also a part of him that enjoyed serving his own food; a part which loved watching his brothers and sisters' faces light up when they took a bite of his cooking; a part of him which felt better every time he made a meal that brought smiles and laughter.
Miss Melanie's recipes were something else, they were culinary art pieces, and likely the best food Nicholas can ever remember getting to taste. Even though she let him help cook, and even though she let him see her recipes, there was one ingredient in her food that she never shared.
"Someday, you'll know, Nicholas," she had said, ruffling his short, black locks of hair. "And when you do, your cooking will be all that much better. Believe me."
He did believe her, but it was hard to believe in the exsistance of such a secretive ingredient. One time, while Miss Melanie wasn't looking, he rummaged through their meager pantry and icebox, and even so, found nothing remarkable whatsoever.
When she had inevitably caught him, she had told him this: "This ingredient isn't something you'll find easy, and it won't ever be in a glass jar or container, but even so, you'll know when you've found it." Then she left it at that, and continued to cook.
Nicholas, after a few weeks, had given up on trying to find this secret ingredient, and had just come to accept that his cooking would never be as good as Miss Melanie's. Days turned into weeks, and then years, and by then, Nicholas had way more pressing and critical things on his mind.
Then, about eleven years later, he finally figured out what Miss Melanie had been talking about.
Love. Food is baked better with love.
Naturally, it would take a while for him to learn because who would share their heart with a monster? Who could ever love him?
But there were people, his people, his darling people, who invited him into their lives, and invited him to partake in a life which he never thought he could ever be privy to.
Meryl Stryfe, who seemed to hate his teasing, hate his presence in the group as a whole. Meryl, who had hit him with her fucking car when she first saw him. Meryl, who was the kindest and sharpest woman he's ever met, and who's eyes and smile made him feel things he hadn't felt in a while.
Vash the goddamn Stampede, the famous outlaw who was too trusting for his own good. Vash, with his saviour complex and his determination to help anyone, no matter the person. Vash, who loved and loved and showed Nicholas trust he never deserved, even after only knowing him for a few hours.
Their love was a strange thing, but Nick found himself more addicted to it than his cigarettes, than any chemical he'd used to dull his body and mind.
It was one evening, on a cold summer night, where the three of them (and the old dog the other two insisted on traveling with) had to sleep and cook out in the desert. Vash had put together a shitty fire, and he'd managed to cook a decent soup using a few of their rations from the back.
They were all sitting around their pathetic excuse of a fire, Meryl on his left and Roberto on his right, when they first tried Vash's meal.
"This is really good!" Meryl had happily exclaimed, holding a bowl in her hands. "For being rations, this tastes like a meal you'd get in the city!"
"It isn't just rations," Vash explained while sitting down at Meryl's side. "It's also made with love."
Made with love?
Suddenly it all made sense it a way that not many things had before; Miss Melanie's secret ingredient to all of her recipes was 𝘭𝘰𝘷𝘦. All of those years spent looking and the answer came to him on its own, in the form of a handsome outlaw.
Since then, Nicholas started to notice a difference in the quality and taste of his meals when he made then with purpose; when he cooked for Vash and Meryl, he always added love, and it felt for all the world like a different recipe- a better recipe. Whether or not it was, he didn't know, but he liked the idea of it.
Nicholas has always found that doing things for others makes him happy; it's how he shows love. Now, almost five years later, he continues on, cooking and baking for the same two people who made him believe in love again.
Tonight, him and Vash are making a dish that neither of them are particularly familiar with, but it's one that Meryl adores. For years, she's talked about this meal that her and her mother used to make. She says it reminds her of her childhood, of her parents, of good memories, and that on top of it all, it tastes amazing.
It had taken some time for Vash and Nick to find the right recipe, and they were both very sure that it wouldn't be as good as her mother's old recipe, but it would still be special and make her happy; that's all they want.
Of late, Meryl's been working a lot. It isn't surprising to Nicholas, because she adores her job and takes it very seriously, (some might even say too seriously) to the point where she becomes very wrapped up in writing and editing that she lives in a constant state of stress. She hasn't been getting much sleep lately. The dark circles under her eyes have onky gotten darker. In fact, Vash and Nick haven't seen her much outside of her small office; a room in their house that they renovated just for her to be able to work from home.
She deserves a break. She deserves a nice meal that isn't some shitty takeout. She needs some love, and if anything, her two boys are always willing to come through and provide it, even if it means making a recipe from a culture that neither of them were raised with.
"Smells amazing," Vash sighs, wiping his hands on the red apron he wears around his body.
He's right; the recipe they're making is called char siu bao, which, from what Nick can understand, are barbeque pork buns. They're currently sitting in a steamer, almost at the end cooking.
"I appreciate your help, angel," Nicholas responds. Without Vash's help, he's positive he would have finished three hours later, leaving both his partners and himself hungry.
Vash was always like this, always eager to help. He hadn't ever been a huge fan of cooking, except when it was for a cause, in which case he was always very thrilled to be a part of things. Plus, he had commented on how good both the idea and the recipe had sounded, and was more than happy to assist. Nicholas finds it endearing.
Vash smiles and takes off his apron, before holding his arms out in front of him, just to hold Nick. Naturally, he can't resist; he tugs his own apron off, throws it on top of Vash's, and then relaxes into his arms.
"Exhausted?" Vash asks, with his arms settling around Nick's waist.
"My arms certainly are," he responds. Nicholas can say for sure that he would be perfectly fine with never having to knead dough again in his life.
Vash laughs, and it's a contagious sound that catches on; suddenly Nick is laughing along too, listening to the joyful, addictive noise. Moments like these aren't terribly rare, but there's a special place in Nicholas' heart for all of them.
Then, Vash pauses for a second. "Wait, there's some barbeque sauce on your face." Nick freezes, and feels Vash's thumb brush over the stubbly part of his chin. A grin creeps up Vash's face.
"What is it?" Nick asks, watching his partner's oceanic eyes shine with mischief. "There isn't anything on my face, is there?" Vash doesn't answer with words, instead he just giggles, and kisses Nicholas' cheek.
"Is there a problem with wanting to kiss the most handsome man in the room?" Vash replies, and it's funny how he's been with Nicholas for three years and he still manages to find ways to make him swoon.
"'S no problem with it," he bashfully supplies. So Vash does it again, and the touch of his lips to Nicholas' cheek feels like a feather, a cloud, an angel; it's soft and sweet and Nick adores every moment.
"It smells great down here!"
Nick and Vash both in unison turn towards the doorway to the kitchen to see Meryl, in her pajamas (which consist of a white tank top and long, soft baby blue pajama pants, not that Nick is staring or anything) with her usually fluffy, dark blue hair combed straight down, looking more shaded than usual. Nicholas supposes she must have just come out of the shower.
"Hey darlin', you're right in time," Nicholas grins, peeling away from Vash with a kiss to the nose. "Hope you're hungry."
Meryl freezes for a moment, as if pondering something, then: "Wait a second, is this-"
"Char siu bao," both Vash and Nicholas say in tandem. "I hope we pronounced that right," Vash sheepishly adds.
Meryl's eyes go wide. "You guys actually found a recipe for it?! Where?"
"It took a while, but we found an old cook book in December last time we visited," Nicholas explains. "The ingredients were a little hard to find, but we spent so long looking for the recipe that we were determined to make it."
"You've had a tough week, and we wanted to help you out a little," Vash says, in conjunction to Nick's comment. "It isn't much, but we hope you like it anyway."
Meryl dashes forward and gives them both a large hug at the same time. "Oh, thank you both so much! You two are the sweetest boys!"
"You're the sweetest girl," Vash responds, and the affection in his voice makes Nicholas' heart melt in his chest.
He turns around and eyes the timer next to the large steamer, and watches as it starts to count down from ten. "You're also right in time to taste some, if you'd like." Nick breaks from her touch to turn off the timer, just before its god-awful beeping noise beings to ring through the kitchen.
All of that effort is quickly justified by the way Meryl smiles at him. Nicholas pops open the lid of the steamer and watches as a cloud of steam fills the kitchen.
"Just as I didn't think that could possibly smell any better," Vash comments. "Do you want me to get out the plates and silverware?"
"Actually, you can just eat this with your hands. That's what my mother always did," Meryl responds. "Plates would be lovely, though." Vash nods, and Nicholas motions her forward with a hand. She comes his direction, and looks into the bowl of the steamer.
"I hope those look correct," Nicholas quickly comments, defending the lopsided dumplings in front of her. "There wasn't a picture as to what they're meant to look like."
Meryl tilts her head with a giggle. "They look very nice for your first time." It's not exactly a compliment, but he still feels proud. "If you make them again and need help shaping them, I can do it."
"I may have to take you up on that," Nick replies. "Hopefully they taste good."
"If they taste the way the smell, I'm sure they'll be delicious!" Meryl reassuringly responds. Nick is quite relieved to hear it.
Vash sets down a stack of three ceramic plates next to the steamer, and Meryl takes one, immediately starting to serve a portion for herself.
"Careful, don't burn your fingers," Vash warns, playing the overprotective role he so usually slides into. Meryl jokingly rolls her eyes.
"They're just a little warm, don't worry." She puts a few bao buns onto her plate, and then picks one up and puts it between her thumb and index finger. Then, she lifts it to her lips and takes a bite.
There's a moment of tension in Nicholas' heart, but it is quickly lifted by the expression of pure delight on Meryl's face.
"This is really good!" She exclaims, after chewing her bite adequately. "You both did a wonderful job, thank you very much!"
"I'm glad you like it, since we put a special ingredient in there." The sentence comes out of Nicholas' mouth faster than he can process it.
"And what's that?"
"Love," he says, with the most genuine smile he's has in years. "It's made with love."