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Wolfwood has always wanted a simple life. Being raised in an orphanage, he came to accept the joys of a more relaxed livelihood early on. He'd spend his days feeding the tomas chicks, playing with Livio, and helping out with the younger kids. He helped Miss Melanie with cooking and baking.
It was a nice way of living. Even from a young age, Wolfwood knew that's what he wanted: just a plain, simple life.
The Eye of Michael made that difficult. It's hard to have the heart of a saint in the body of sinner. Made to kill, made to hurt; a man like that is not, under any circumstances, meant for a peaceful life. A man like that is not meant to find love, or to have a family. Monsters are always going to be on their own.
But then love hit him with a car in the middle of the desert.
Miss Melanie used to talk about fate. She'd talk about how you couldn't run from fate. Years later, he finally gets to say that he understands what she meant.
Wolfwood took one look at Vash and Meryl and understood what it was like to truly want something. Not in the way that he wanted freedom for himself or Livio. Not in the way he wanted to save his siblings at the orphanage.
He wanted in the way that felt less like a want and more like a need. He wanted in a way that set his heart and soul on fire. He wanted so hard it hurt.
And even when he had them, had the ability to hold his entire world in his two artificially strengthened arms, he learned that a simple life wouldn't work. With Vash the Stampede, it would never work. He was too much of a empathy, had too much compassion for others to stop wanting to help them. He'd never be able to.
When Vash suggested they all move into a little house in the middle of nowhere, far away from all of his troubles of outlaw nonsense, Wolfwood was happy to be proven wrong.
A simple life. Love. It's all he's ever wanted.
It was seven years ago when they finally moved into their little house. It isn't really anything special at a first glance, but it's home. His home. Wolfwood's never had a home before.
It was six years ago when Wolfwood proposed. The rings he'd bought were simplistic gold bands; they'd been hard to get and they'd been pricey. Wolfwood hasn't ever seen the bands off of his partners' hands.
It was five years ago when they'd been married. It was a private ceremony, held on Ship Three- Vash's adoptive parents had set up a venue for them there. There weren't many people who attended; it was only Meryl's childhood best friend- a very sweet young woman named Milly-, Livio, Brad, Luida, and the couple themselves.
It was four years ago when Milly moved in; she got a job at Meryl's workplace, and was to be trained under her. It was easier for the two girls to work this way, given how far away from everything that Meryl and her lovers decided to live.
For the next three years, the unlikely four lived together. Wolfwood had to admit, he had grown fond of Milly; her being around always made Meryl happy, which also made him happy by extension, but she's also a very sweet and polite young women. She's the sister Wolfwood never had.
And a little under a year ago, Wolfwood's life had changed once more, for the better. A little under a year ago, he learned that he was to be a father.
Wolfwood's always been fond of children. He thinks they're sweet, and maybe that's the part of him that grew up in an orphanage speaking, but the presence of children has always made him happy.
Now, only months later, he sits in a clean room on Ship Three, in bed, right next to Meryl, watching Vash stand by the window with a small bundle of baby blue in his arms.
Ship Five is quiet, too quiet for Wolfwood's liking. Most of it's inhabitants are in cryo sleep, and the only sound that Wolfwood can hear are the sounds Vash's boots against the metal floor, and Wolfwood won't lie, he feels anxious and sort of like he's going stir crazy, because he's not ready for this moment no matter how much he's dreamed of it, because he's a monster and what if he were to-
Meryl slumps against his side. She's been asleep for a little while now, but she falls against him, and he gently cards a hand through the top of her hair. It's soft, it always is. Wolfwood's grown quite used to the feel and familiar smell of Meryl's shampoo; it just so happens to be lavender scented. Wolfwood finds it relaxing.
Meryl's cute, you know? With her gentle little smile on her resting lips, and her long eyelashes fluttering every now and again because of the air vents above and around her. Wolfwood looks at her and falls in love with her again, because how could you not?
"How's she doing?” a quiet voice asks, cracking with happiness. Wolfwood looks up to see Vash, with a few tears in his glassy, oceanic eyes. He usually gets emotional in times like these, and a wide smile bursts on his mouth. He looks extraordinarily happy.
"Good," Wolfwood replies, combing her thin strands of hair through his fingers. "She's asleep, but I think she's good."
Vash gives him a nod, and then a strikingly loud coo grabs his attention. He turns his head to look down into the small bundle in his arms.
"Hello, little guy," he softly says, with a big grin. The small child coos a little more, and Wolfwood watches him kiss the top of his head.
God, it's the cutest sight he's ever seen. If this is what life is going to look like for a while, he doesn't know how his heart will take it.
"Nick, he's so perfect," Vash sighs, and Wolfwood can almost see a happy tear slide out of his eyes. "Perfect," he repeats, looking down at the boy. The latter makes a happy gurgling noise.
Wolfwood watches as Vash walks across the room, to his side. "Here. You should hold him."
Wolfwood's heart pounds, and it feels as though his stomach is filled with cement. It feels wrong, so wrong; he's getting the life he always planned with the people he loves the most but he's still some lab-tested monster.
Does he deserve this?
Could he really deserve this, even though most of his fellow experiments would never get this, even if they wanted it?
"He wants to be held by both his dads, I'd bet." Vash looks at him, and Wolfwood looks down at the small bundle and with a deep breath, holds out his arms and lets Vash put the sweet boy in his embrace.
He's such a cute little one; with light tan skin and rosey, large cheeks. He's got barely any strands of hair on his head, but what he does carry is dark, much like Wolfwood's own.
Wolfwood wonders how much he'll take after Meryl, and hopes in all honesty that he carries even a fraction of her strong mind and kind features.
A sweet, young boy, all innocent and adorable, in the large arms of his father, which happen to be so coated in blood that it won't ever wash away. Wolfwood briefly wonders if the blood will taint the baby's blue blanket, if it will reach his skin and then stain, leaving as large of an impact on his life as his father's.
The cool of prosthetic steel sends a chill down Wolfwood's spine, as Vash's hand rests on his shoulder. He works a kiss into Wolfwood's hair. It's grounding.
"Nick," he whispers, comfortingly. "You aren't going to hurt him. I promise." Vash wraps his arm around Wolfwood's shoulders, and leans over them to get a better look at the boy. "You're going to be an amazing father. He'll love you, I know it. And hey, we won't get everything right first try, but we'll give him everything we have to give him." Vash's gentle manner of speech and kind words calm him.
"Careful, you're starting to sound like our little lady," Wolfwood quietly laughs, not moving his eyes from his son in his arms. "He really is a cute one, isn't he?"
"It's because he looks like you and Meryl," Vash replies. "Look, he's even got your nose."
Once Vash points it out, it's near impossible not to see it. Wolfwood finds it endearing. He looks at the child for a few minutes, taking in the fact that this isn't a dream, and that he won't wake up in a few moments, back in his bed in July, sickeningly alone.
This moment is peaceful. With Wolfwood's nerves out of the way, and with privacy for a bit from Luida and her team of medical people, he's free to just sit and take this moment in. This moment that he's wanted since before he could remember, but never actually thought he'd get.
He's a father. He never had a father growing up, but he's damn convinced he'll be the best he can be -especially with Meryl and Vash along for the ride.
Tears prick at the corners of his eyes.
"Nico?" Vash quietly whispers.
Wolfwood holds his son to his chest, and lets his joyful tears run down his cheeks. "What a wonderful life I've got."
—
There are not many acceptable reasons as to why someone might be up this early. Sure, Vash has had his fair share of sleepless nights in his long lifetime, but it truly is too early for anyone to be awake.
3:37. That's what the clock on his bedside table had read when he glanced at it a few minutes ago; all he could do was merely groan at the numbers, and wish they were higher.
However, there is something that Vash finds lovely about this hour; maybe it's the stillness and quietness of his small house, or maybe it's the opportunity for memories that the situation provides; it's a cheerfully optimistic outlook on a seemingly bad situation, but that's sort of Vash's thing.
Here's what had happened; Vash had woken up to the muffled sounds of wailing coming from one of the rooms down the hallway from his own. There wasn't really a cause for such a racket- at least, until a few weeks ago, when Vash and his two lovely partners had added another member to their little family.
A baby boy.
From the moment he first laid eyes on the kid, Vash had fallen in love. He's a cute little one, with warm, tanned skin and black wispy hairs on his tiny head. Meryl commented on how much he looked like Wolfwood, which Vash found especially sweet. He's like a miniature Nick, except for his little smile and shining, inkpot blue eyes, which he clearly inherited from his mother.
It's no secret that Vash cares for him too; any moment he can spare for his son, he will. He's only been a father for three weeks, but for his little boy, he'd do anything.
All of that to say, crying in the middle of the night -or early morning, in this case- was a common occurance, and was even to be expected. But despite how often he heard his son cry, he never quite got used to it.
Listening to anyone crying was always upsetting for Vash, because he's a very emotionally affected person, but listening to his son cry is even worse.
He'd do anything to wipe away his baby's little tears.
So when he'd heard the racket, he'd slipped out of bed as carefully as possible (not before giving a suddenly awakened Meryl a kiss on the temple and telling her to get her sleep and that he'd handle it) and walked through the hallway of his house to get to his son's nursery.
The moment he had laid eyes on the little child, his heart shattered. His small eyes were watery, and tear stains littered his tiny cheeks. With every sob and scream, his little balled fists shook, and an unhappy frown broke out onto his face.
Vash instantly leaned over the boy's crib, and held him in his arms. "Shhh," he quietly muttered. "I've got you."
His boy tended to get more anxious when he was alone- either that or he really enjoyed the attention of his parents. No matter the situation, he hates being alone; for this reason, both Vash and his partners have spent many hours awake at unconventional times with him. For all the consequences of staying awake for a few hours at midnight, Vash doesn't really mind. Any time he can spend with the little guy is a treasure, even if he becomes tired later.
Vash picks him up, with a hand under each of his armpits. He hoists the little boy into his arms, and gives him the gentlest of hugs he could possibly muster, before lifting him to be eye level. At the sight of his father's face, the baby seems to stop crying, resorting to half hearted sniffles.
"You're up early, little guy,” Vash comments, with a natural smile on his face; one look at the sweet boy usually made his lips dance into a grin. "Don't worry, your papa's here, and he's gonna make sure that you're taken care of, okay?"
The child makes a halfhearted cooing noise. Vash takes a thumb and tenderly wipes at the tears on his small face. "There you are," he quietly says, cradling the boy again. "No reason to cry. I've got you." He carefully rocks the baby back in forth in his arms, until his pathetic little sniffles stop.
"Now, let's see, we'll get you some food, maybe even play a little, and then we'll see how you're feeling," Vash tells him, looking at his confused but adorable face. A small hand reaches up to the neckline of Vash's sleep shirt, and tightens in the soft fabric of it.
Vash laughs, and watches his son start to smile. With him in his arms, Vash starts to leave the room, only to turn around for a small second, and reach into the boy's crib for a small stuffed toy that the baby treasured.
It was a little stuffed tomas; Wolfwood had bought it for him before he was born, and the little guy seemed to have an attachment to the thing. Vash picked it up and his son's arms immediately outstretched, as if waiting to hold the plush toy. Vash puts the toy in the boy's arms, the latter snuggling it with a happy coo. Vash holds him against his chest, and quietly walks out of the nursery, being careful not to step on any creaky floorboards.
The whole house is dim, with a few bright spots shining into the space from the closed blinds. Vash has gotten good at navigating the house at night, so he makes his way to the kitchen just fine. All it takes is a quick flip of a light switch and the whole room becomes lighter; one lightbulb in the ceiling is burnt out, so it's still dim, but Vash can still see, so everything is alright.
With his one hand (the other still holding his son), he opens the fridge, grabbing a small bottle, before quietly shutting it again. He flicks off the kitchen light, hearing only curious little noises come from the boy, as he creeps from this room to the next.
His destination is the living room; as he walks along the house's corridor, he can feel the smooth carpet beneath his feet. The baby in his left arm starts to whine again, and Vash quietly calms him down.
They pass by the dining room, the bedroom Vash shares with his partners, and the spare bedroom which is currently being used by Meryl's work partner, Milly (Vash finds her to be a very enjoyable person to be around, honestly. She's sweet and seems to like helping them out around the house, even playing with their little one sometimes), before reaching the living room.
Vash reaches his hand under the lampshade- this whole routine is muscle memory- and pulls down on a chain, affectively turning the floor lamp on. With that, he walks over to the small couch in the middle of the room, and gently sets his baby boy down on one of the cushions. He still clings to his plushie.
Vash takes a seat next to him, and then carefully lifts him up onto his lap; the poor tomas plushie falls from his arms, and Vash situates the boy in a comfortable position. He grabs for the bottle of formula at his side.
A small whine from his arms brings his attention to the lost stuffie, which Vash sits on his own lap, before grabbing for the bottle again. "Mr Tomas isn't going anywhere, little guy," he hums. The boy seems to have calmed down at the increased proximity of him to his toy, and when Vash puts the bottle up to his mouth, he takes it.
A yawn escapes from Vash's throat as he tilts the bottle up, letting the small child drink the formula at his own small pace. It's late, and sure, Vash is definitely mourning the loss of his sleep, but this is nice too; getting to hold his precious son in his arms. Getting to spend some time with the little boy that means more to him than life itself.
It was a dream come true- a miracle even, to have the chance to meet the two best people on the planet, and even have the opportunity to raise a family with one another. There isn’t anything more Vash could have ever asked for.
From the moment that Vash had learned that he would be a father, he loved his child, and since meeting the little guy, that love had only increased. He was all any parent could ever ask for, with his cute little expressions, sparkling eyes, and ethnic features that mirrored Nick’s exactly. He’s a gift, one that Vash and his partners treasure every day.
Sleep be damned. This time was better spent with the baby anyway; Vash almost felt thankful that he’d been woken up, or he’d never have had the opportunities to spend this time with the boy.
He quickly drained the formula in the bottle -Vash supposed he must have been very hungry- before spitting the mouth of the cup out, and motioning towards Vash with small, grabby hands.
“I guess you just want some attention now, don’t you?” Vash whispers, setting both the boy’s bottle and toy to the side. When he picks the child up, he makes a giggling noise that makes Vash’s heart melt.
He holds the baby against his chest, and rubs his back. He feels tiny hands weave their way into the back of his shirt and his hair.
“Would you like to hear a story?” Vash asks, getting a happy coo in response. He kisses the top of his son’s head. “Okay, good.” He clears his throat, quietly but ceremoniously.
“Once, there was a reporter. She had just gotten her new job, and was assigned to chase down a famous outlaw and interview him. She was filled with determination, and one day, she found him and interviewed him.”
“The outlaw immediately fell in love with the reporter, and much to his surprise, the reporter continued to follow him around, convinced to help him out on whatever journey he went on. The outlaw never figured out what she saw in him, but he was grateful. Along their travels, they met a young priest, who was actually a fighter in disguise. He joined their ragtag group, and helped them out in many areas, like cooking and protection. He was ruggedly handsome, and the outlaw came to love him as well. The three unlikely friends made a perfect team.”
“Eventually, the three of them had run into a dangerous man, who had the three of them split apart for a while,” Vash says, adjusting his sad and gruesome story for the child’s ears. “But, not to worry, the priest and the reporter eventually found the outlaw after their separation, and they all reunited happily.”
His son’s breathing evens out. Vash adjusts himself to lay on his back on the couch, dangling his legs over the arms of it. The boy lays stomach down on his father’s chest, with an air of peacefulness; his eyes are shut, and his small hands relaxed, laying at his side.
With a yawn, Vash continues his story. “The reporter had been desperately afraid that she would never see the outlaw again, and immediately told him how she and the priest felt about him. The outlaw found it surprising that two beautiful people could possibly love him, especially when he loved them back.”
“The outlaw, priest, and reporter were married a few years later, and while they waited for that perfect day, they never left each other’s side. Things sometimes got difficult for them, but they always stayed together.”
Vash closes his eyes, and relaxes into the cushions of the sofa. “And someday, that priest, outlaw, and reporter would all three become parents to the most wonderful little boy in the world.” He finishes off his story feeling drowsy, already starting to slow his words down as a response to his tiredness.
When Meryl and Wolfwood woke up the next morning, they found Vash steadily asleep on the couch, with their dear little one sleeping atop his chest. The baby’s bottle and stuffed toy laid on the carpeted floor of the living room.
It was a cute sight. Meryl took a picture, then left with Wolfwood into the kitchen as quietly as possible, to let the other half of their small but lovely family rest.
—
It’s a warm and sunny afternoon. The humidity of the midday desert air juxtaposes the chilling air of this shitty, makeshift cemetery; heaven knows that the person buried here deserves more than this, but it’s the best that Meryl could do. They don’t even have his body, as it was lost in the crash of July, but it felt wrong to not have any sort of memorial for him. A sand-weathered tombstone sticks out of the ground, looking worse for wear.
“Roberto De Niro” it reads, in thin, carved lettering. Below it, a small line of text: “Bernardelli’s Best.”
Often, when Meryl visits, she finds some knicknacks and whatnot, presumably left by her boys at some point or another; a box of cigarettes, a photo, a bullet, anything that would be of significant meaning to the man. But anything that would have been left has been blown away by the wind, never to be seen by them again.
Meryl sits down on the hot sand beside the memorial, and folds her hands neatly in her lap. She tilts her head up towards the suns, feeling their hot rays on her cheeks.
It’s days like these when she realizes how much she misses him. There’s a hole in her heart that the loss of her mentor left, one that she fears might never be filled.
“Hey,” Meryl starts, tasting the dry words on her tongue. She knows his spirit is somewhere in the afterlife or where ever anyone might believe, drinking and lighting up a cigarette -his spirit is anywhere but here- but sometimes it’s more comforting to pretend that he’s still with her. That, for whatever reason, any time she sits by his grave and talks, he listens.
“It’s been a while, huh?” She jokingly huffs, as if he can hear her; as if he’s about to make fun of her for being so damn awkward. “Sorry about that. I’ve been busy.” She pauses for a second, foolishly letting herself imagine what snarky response he’d have to such a crappy excuse. “Work’s been rougher these days. If you had the boss I have, I think you’d probably quit. He keeps threatening to move me down to the insurance department.”
“Believe it or not, I’ve got a newbie now. Her name’s Milly, and she’s definitely got a knack for reporting. I think you would have really loved to meet her.” The thought makes Meryl’s heart break in half; Milly often reminds her of how she used to be, back when her job was new and her world experience was little. Roberto would have been annoyed, but just as he did for her, would take care of Milly and protect her until the end.
It hurts to even think about.
“She’s been staying with us for a while, for work stuff. She's very smart, and she's a dear, really. Makes the job a hell of a lot easier." Meryl looks down at her hands, and lets a comfortable silence cover the small memorial.
It's a bright day, almost too sunny and delightful for such a morose visit. Meryl watches as grains of sand fly past her in the breeze, hitting both Roberto's tombstone and parts of her body. It creates a whispering noise, and if Meryl were any more delusional than she is, she'd assume it was a sign that Roberto could hear all she had said.
If he really had heard what she'd said, he'd probably ignore her. And Meryl may be a hopeful woman, but she's not crazy.
"We're good too- Vash, Nick and I. We've been pretty busy lately, but things have been great." She laughs to herself. "Vash and Nick are talking about opening up a bar in the town a little ways over, as they've been for a while. They've done some odd jobs here and there to get some money, but we've got a little restaurant in our future."
Meryl takes a few moments of silence, as if he were responding. It's a foolish habit, but it makes her trips out here seem more real. More normal. "We have some surprise news too, though Vash told me I should be the one to tell you." She takes a little breath, and relaxes her shoulders. "We're parents now. Isn't it lovely?"
She can imagine his likely response, although in her heart she pretends he'd be happy or faithful in them. "He's a precious little baby boy." Meryl fishes around in her pockets and pulls out a picture Vash had taken of him in her arms, wrapped up in a light blue cloth. She puts the picture in front of his tombstone, as if he could see it. "He looks like a miniature Nick, doesn't he?" He does, with his tanned skin and short wisps of black hair. When he smiles too, the similarities increase. "Vash says that he has my eyes, but he's sleeping in this one, so you can't really see it."
Meryl pulls another picture from her pocket, and lays it down next to the first one. "Here's Nick playing with him." The photo shows the baby in a little green onesie, with his tiny little arms outstretched. Wolfwood sits right beside him with a stuffed tomas in his hands, holding right over the boy's small body. A delighted smile dances over his lips. "Nick takes good care of him, it's very sweet. I haven't seen him happier than when he's holding him in his arms."
There's one more picture she puts down; a photo of Vash, laying on his back on a couch, eyes shut gently. The baby, laying on his stomach, sleeps on Vash's chest. His tiny arms dangle across Vash's sides, as if he were trying to give his father a hug. "I took this one the other morning. They both look so peaceful. I think it's beautiful."
Meryl smiles, looking down at the collection of photos. "I wish you could meet him, Roberto. I think you'd really like him." She knows that he'd never admit it, but he would; he's got a heart, under all that unbothered, drunken facade. "I think he'd like you too."
Meryl father's the pictures back up, brushes any sand off of them, and sticks them back in her pocket. She looks back up towards the suns. "He's a wonderful little boy, and I've only had the pleasure of loving him for three weeks."
"Oh, that reminds me," Meryl starts, thinking of a realization that brings tears to her eyes. She tries to blink them back. "I never did tell you what his name is, did I?" Her eyes start to sting, and her voice becomes hoarse.
"His name is Roberto."