Archive of Our Own ^beta

He had felt those hands effortlessly lift him enough times that denial could not burn away the memory, grip easily encasing his ribs to pull him along in easy rhythm with the not quite deafening enough song that fills the air so fogged with cigarette smoke that it never seemed to dissipate from within well loved, well worn saloon walls.

He had seen those hands dripping with blood, time and time again staining the unforgiving metal caging a too large form with twitching trigger fingers never breaking from their tense curl- at war with the host they carried. Cruel, crushing, trembling like the digits could not decide whose skull they were built to wrap around next, left only to tear at the bars jailing them.

He had watched those hands wrap completely around a glass full of the ichor Vash so willingly delved into during nights of respite and hid whatever amber liquid resided inside, though not for the sake of hiding the contents from view. They were simply large enough to encase the glass, a visibly relaxed grip tracing patterns without meaning on the condensation. Always easily encompassing anything held with a truly remarkable amount of delicacy.

Capable, thick with muscle and calluses, and always warm even after long into the evening once the twin suns had set and the dessert air turned unforgiving.

And, currently, held in Kni’s own hands.

Which were not small despite obvious comparison, the observation rather blatantly in front of him, for Kni was not a smaller being himself. The lengths of his fingers alone rivaled most, something that seemed to be of note to others when witnessing his deft reach across piano keys. Even his limbs bordered beyond normal human proportions due to the few dominant plant genes that graced his objectively human features.

However, when laid out against one of Livio’s own hands it’s difficult to not notice; the difference in the thickness of fingers, where tanned skin lines itself along the memory of gloves worn too long under persistence suns compares to the near translucent palour on the back of Kni’s hands, how the stark lack of scars leaves one to wonder how Livio’s grip stays so steady despite the memory of bullets and blades tearing into his grip.

This somewhat precarious train of thought Kni had landed himself in was not without warrant at least, no. Livio had gone and caught a falling glass a little too firmly and the damned thing had shattered within his grip, a simple slip of strength. And, politely, Kni tasked himself with plucking out the shards himself, so he had nothing to do other than focus on the hand in his own.

The damage in fact was Kni’s fault- though not purposefully. The glass had slipped from his own usually careful grip when he had collided into Livio’s notably large body on an unsteady sway, recounting with flourish one of his brother’s many embarrassing escapades. The collision was also his own fault, though he’d like to blame Vash for encouraging them to drink at home where Kni could be more comfortable letting loose outside of a crowded bar.

He’d prided himself on being steady and composed where Vash would naturally be tripping over the length of his own legs, but occasionally Kni was known to lose a bit of his own footing.

Regardless, it wasn't Vash’s fault. Kni accepted every drink like the contents called to him a personal challenge, like he was needed to prove a point. Whatever point that could have possibly been was lost on him now, with only the blanket thought of proving he could too let loose unlike what his brother’s goading suggested. Though he hardly had enough in him to feel more than a little unsteady and quite a bit warm in the face- courtesy of his teasing brother keeping the bottle in control- before he stumbled from a laugh he couldn’t quite help.

That was, at least, at Vash’s expense, Livio was also quite fond of sharing embarrassing stories about his loved ones from long ago and he had grown quite the arsenal involving Vash over their rather short time traveling together and graciously pitched in despite Vash’s protests. Kni couldn’t help but laugh, knowing Vash was in fact just as much of a dork as he had always been when they were terribly young, and truly it felt good to laugh.

That in itself was a strange feeling to Kni still, even after the passing years in this life. It had taken quite a reasonable amount of effort to move beyond the reluctance, but laughing freely and comfortably had become easier with Vash’s help.

And, with the help of the Double Fang himself as well. Livio.

After years of quiet living- settling themselves into a cycle of self punishment and reconciliation, denied forgiveness and honest admittance, easing themselves into tentative trust again and a life of peace neither thought they would have had- Kni and Vash had managed to survive their self inflicted divine retribution and rebuild themselves in the unfairly forgiving desert with the help of Vash’s dearest friends finding their ways back into his life.

Subsequently they had melded their way into Kni’s as well, given the twins had chosen to not part ways after their bodies were repaired through months of grueling effort- too raw to separate, even as Kni proved his resolve to this new life. Through expected reluctance, and with a surprising amount of receptance, Kni had found himself fond of their influence in their settling lives, even if it took quite a bit of time for the threats to waver in their intent.

The girls had been a rather surprising pair with their set determination to not be intimidated by Kni’s defeated, bitter early days, unbudging in their affections and reaching out often with respect for the private life Vash had begun to rebuild away from the title of Humanoid Typhoon. They had missed him, and they had wanted to finally understand the story of what exactly happened even before the final fall from grace, but they did not drag him out of hiding and back into the line of fire and for that Kni was grateful.

In time, Kni found himself more often than not inquiring about their ventures when Vash would ring the girls up, a routine “girl gossip time” in between their sparse visits after they had staked their claim in the twins’ lives. Vash was adamant about keeping track of the tv and radio to keep up to date on the girls' stories when he couldn’t interrupt their traveling schedule, and the steady sound of their enthusiastic voices became frequent echoes during their slower days.

They were intelligent girls, almost too much so, and the truth they sought as the world rebuilt itself around them was a journey worthy of sharing.

Still, they were an infrequent presence, unlike Livio proved to be.

The Double Fang had, in Kni’s personal opinion, aided most in easing them into a routine life. He had the most freedom to travel after all, close enough to where he had settled that he was able to visit often in the earliest days, and he lingered well into their present lives. Kni could not deny Vash wanting to be close to him, with that softly shown sorrow always in his eyes. He would not deny him that, not then and certainly not now.

The beast of a man had softened considerably in his own journey of healing both mind and body, reclaiming his place in the loving arms of the orphanage he once called home and moving beyond the years under the Eye of Michael to become a kinder presence, giving aid to the lost souls rebuilding after the dust of war had settled. It was, however, a strenuous teeth pulling journey as Razlo still warred with the notion of so easily giving up the bloodshed while the world still raged. But the desire for love and peace had won out above all- Vash’s mantra finding home in their heart, laying to waste the call of violence.

Love called to them, particularly, in all its fronts. They loved so fully, so honestly despite the sorrow that seemed to always follow as they reminisced about time lost, souls and selves lost. Vash and Livio shouldered each other and promised love above all, despite it all.

An accusing voice would ring in Kni’s ears, nauseating as he separated himself from earshot during every mournful reminiscing. He hadn’t killed them all himself, but directly or indirectly he may as well have- he may as well have dug each grave and announced their execution with the way Vash mourns the man who cheated death yet again, just barely.

Wolfwood- no longer the Punisher, long since a discarded title- had spent thrice the time comatose as Vash did, and Vash had been nearly carved in two from the cataclysm of the near end of the world. Too long to wake up, too long to heal, and Vash’s own heart had grown incurably heavy with every desperate call, letter, and prayer for his love to wake. Eventually, once his body had healed enough for the journey, Vash began to make the trek to Hopeland just to see the resting body, unable to do anything more than wait.

For a time, Kni believed the moment Wolfwood awoke from his death grip, Vash would never return. With every visit, lengthened the longer Kni had proved himself a domesticated presence under the stern thumb of their hosts, a seed of fear grew in Kni’s stomach that came with the wary loneliness until Vash returned with a sad smile, every time. He had insisted Wolfwood heal near family and familiarity rather than the depths of an Earth Federation hospital ward, though Kni suspects the lonely journey to and from was Vash’s penance to himself, a slow and grueling trip to wallow in his agonies.

It never seemed to get easier for Vash, that faux smile could never properly contain the overflowing grief in his heart.

Eventually Wolfwood awoke against all odds, and Vash still returned with the sound of heaving sobs muffled in the night after assuring himself the man was, indeed, alive.

Wolfwood’s healing was a tumultuous thing due to the serum overdose tearing into his dna, shredding every fiber and muscle in his body while attempting to simultaneously piece his body back together. It took weeks before his body caught up with being alive again, and longer until his coherency returned enough for Livio to ease him across the desert to embrace Vash in the garden under a carefully cultivated apple tree.

The retired guns visited as frequently as they could manage in between the treks Vash would take to the orphanage himself as Wolfwood regained his strength, and his rather sappy lingering presence left its mark- quite literally on Vash, with the line of healing bruises on his throat a rather proudly worn thing despite Kni’s gag at the shameless display. It was bad enough that the former Punisher wouldn’t button up his damn shirt.

Still, even if Wolfwood wasn’t in tow with Livio upon his arrival there would still be letters, fond stories exchanged between friends about the missing party, hugs and reassurances in his place. Vash was happy again, he was happy and Kni wouldn’t dare destroy that for him again.

Kni did still, however, bite back perhaps harder than he should’ve at Wolfwood’s pointed teases and jabs during his visits while both involved parties tried to level peace between the two of them. He may not be the threat he was before, but Kni still bared his teeth at the laughing priest in warning despite his large friend promising it was only teasing, no real ill will intended. Large, placating hands waved a barrier between the two more often than not, and Wolfwood took every opportunity to reach around the hands to press Kni’s proverbial buttons.

For a while it truly seemed hopeless and Kni considered giving the damn priest food poisoning in retaliation, but even Vash promised it was simply Wolfwood’s gesture at friendliness. It didn’t seem entirely believable, but Kni considered the idea just enough to escape that desperate pout on Vash’s face. He waved a reluctant white flag for the sake of keeping his own already minimally existent internal peace and “played nice”.

Unexpected yet again, it did wonders in settling the anxiety of Wolfwood’s presence. The man even settled his own bristling in return, a silent truce made- though the occasional hard clap of a hand on Kni’s back was jarring, and he could not for the life of him tell if it was done with the intent to knock the wind out of his lungs every time or not. He was too busy reeling from the uncomfortable gesture of being touched so familiarly by the priest.

Still, dare he say he grew comfortable with the man around, though perhaps it was due to knowing Vash truly was safe when Wolfwood was around. There was no doubt that they would tear down any wall that separated them, fight off the devil himself if it meant protecting each other, and Kni bit down any comment of mortality in favour of letting Vash bask in the feeling of being so loved. More than anything, he deserved that, and he could not deny that the two loved each other so wholly.

It became a nearly sweltering thing to witness however, and his only distraction from being around such private affection was the steady attempts to dig gardens into the resistant sands and the lingering presence of the Double Fang himself. Gardens did not grow nearly fast enough in the stubborn desert underfoot for him to be able to ignore the man. Livio.

The large oaf proved quite the presence, a shockingly skittish man at first reintroduction when he had made the mistake of assuming Kni was Vash while approaching from behind, too excited thinking he had found his elusive friend once again. It’s still a surprise the man didn’t turn tail after running into his former boss so unexpectedly, especially when it was assumed he and Vash had most likely passed away during the proverbial end of the world.

Having managed to find Vash again at all after their fall from grace was certainly a feat, especially with their hair now blackened by their wilted energy, but Kni had been too deep in grieving his failure to build Eden to feign a front of poised composure. Livio returned again and again as Vash pieced together the broken pieces of himself, but Kni could only sink into his regrets. He was too tired, and politeness evaded him.

Still, Livio proved a persistent man despite the defensive, looming thing Kni had become trying to keep the still believed danger of humanity away from his brother’s vulnerable state. The gentle consistency of Livio, not shy in voicing his desire to stick around and provide his aide to his fallen friend where he could, had again and again appeared with a broad smile and pulled Vash into a relieving state of easy distraction, acting as a crutch at his side as Vash found his footing again. He became a recurring light in Vash’s reentry into living and ultimately wormed his way into Kni’s orbit as well, even as Kni had tried his damndest to evade the inevitability.

A terrible thing, large forces like that be. They’ve got quite the gravitational pull that, when caught in their grasp, is a rather unrelenting force to try and free yourself from. And with hardly a wing left to make haste in escaping the burn of reentry, Kni finds himself dragged into the heat of atmosphere with less and less resistance than he expects himself to give even as he awaits the dreaded collision.

Despite his demeanor easily intimidating most- the aura often softened by a lopsided, sheepish grin that in a way mimics Vash’s own when he’s caught in a rather embarrassing situation- Livio approaches gently and with patient understanding as Kni crawls out of the crater he leaves on impact. The time it takes to not bristle constantly at the metaphorical eggshells being so carefully treaded each time Livio enters his reach drags a bitter sort of exhaustion through Kni’s body, but Livio stays receptive to the bared teeth and cold silence- responding with unassuming company and attempts at conversation without prying under the cracked shell left of a once indestructible being.

It’s months of Livio’s presence joining them and their quieter living, solidifying his presence in their lives before the girls manage to find Vash in his little corner of the world nearly a year later, and longer before Wolfwood revives in loving arms. Kni watches Vash return to life with love in his heart and settles himself quietly at his brother’s side to watch Vash slowly bloom again, that blissful excitement showing openly again for the first time in what feels like a lifetime.

It’s a disconcerting, lonely thing, watching his brother rise back into himself and surround himself with the humans he loves so much despite Kni’s own ever persisting fears, but Kni believes he could be at peace with this feeling. He has to be, for Vash’s sake, and tells himself again and again that he must trust Vash’s choice to live amongst humans like this. Even if Kni has no place in this life amongst them all, it is enough to witness it unfold- the very life Vash adamantly sang to the heavens about, the life Kni wanted for him above all.

He does not approach to find his place in it, and hopes that when he is gone that Vash will continue to flourish.

It’s a horrible spiral of self pitying, yes, but Kni does not emerge from the shadow of grief he’s cloaked himself in. It’s safer like this, or it had been for so long that it feels like betrayal when the feeling no longer brings the same comfort it had before. The raging, despairing war in himself against his regrets bleeds into something sickly in his veins, every spark of defiance in his survival burning out into embers starving for purpose, for closure. Even as tentative breaths try to reignite the childlike hope of what could have been, naive and calling to him from beyond the dark, Kni backs away from their call.

When a hand he does not immediately recognize reaches for his back to stop him from slipping further into this shadow, Kni finds himself digging his heels into the earth against the gentle press of Livio guiding him forward instead.

Despite being one of the few left who had known Millions Knives and his desperation to remove humanity from this barren planet, raging and unforgiving in his methods, Livio regularly reaches a hand out and encourages Kni towards the life Vash is rebuilding, as if he deserves to have a place there at all. Kni does not carry himself willingly towards the light laughter that beckons from Vash’s shared affections, but his feet trip under him with every gentle gesture and it leads Kni forward despite himself.

Worse, a metaphorical hand at his back turns into a genuine, physical hand on his shoulder- so casual in passing and undeterred by every affronted jolt from the contact that the repeated gesture turns into a strange sort of familiarity that Kni hasn’t felt in nearly two centuries.

Unlike the impact of Wolfwood’s callous gestures, this tentative touch starts politely and fleetingly as he navigates around Kni in his perpetual place in the garden. Eventually, once Kni stops jumping out of his damn skin, it extends into a lingering palm so painfully friendly in its gesture that Vash must have encouraged it.

Still, once he finds himself no longer yanking his body away from the contact with a hiss, the light touch becomes an expected exchange that Kni anticipates with Livio’s arrival. In time he even finds himself lulled by this careful approach, allowing silence to carry between them rather comfortably as Kni tries to dig up life from the endless sands in some feeble attempt to find purpose while his shoulders relax underneath the hand on his back.

The conversations came eventually in the quiet of their shared company, Livio’s idle recounts met with Kni’s quieter, hesitant musings. Kni kept himself a private person, so they spoke on unassuming topics of desert fauna and wildlife, crops attempted in the dried earth and the reliability of tomas, tradable produce and the concerning things Vash had willingly ingested.

That may have been the first time Kni managed a quiet laugh around the larger man, and perhaps his first slip of the life he had lived with Vash so long ago when recalling a very educational experience in the kitchen when Vash had truly learned what spicy meant.

Youthful efforts in the kitchen seem to be a perpetually disastrous thing between both men and Kni finds the memories tasting less bitter than the actual dishes themselves had. The token of good humour even leaves such an impression that Livio even gifts him recipe cards. A flush of colour peeks onto Livio’s ears alongside his sheepish grin when Kni falters at the gesture- at a loss of what his own face must look like when Livio recalls the offhand comment that Kni had cooked before and figured it another nice way to pass the time.

Someone dear must have shared the recipes with him, Kni notices it in the annotations between instructions and reminders scribbled on the back of the copied cards, and he takes respective care in storing the collection of cards. Kni follows each recipe exactly as instructed for Vash to approve of, pointedly ignoring the surprised face Vash makes when Kni explains where he obtained the recipe.

Each dish is met with excitable enthusiasm and a theatrical “compliments to the chef”- though Kni expects there are few foods Vash wouldn’t enjoy- and he makes sure to let Livio know the dish was a resounding success, making quite the effort to not be blinded by the smile he gets in return.

It’s a shockingly comfortable way of living and Kni finds himself shivering less under the shadow he’s shielded himself with, light dancing along the edges of the dark when he looks away from the smoking embers of himself. Tentatively, he reaches pale hands out into the glow to allow himself a selfish taste of the light, and watches green start to bloom underneath his hands.

With such gentle living comes the promise of healing, and eventually Vash announces with careful consideration that he and Kni should find somewhere of their own to settle. They had treaded the topic carefully over the year that passed seasonless as their bodies rose from the crater, Vash’s desire to be so human driving him into restlessness as he waited for his love to wake and his friends carried their stories of living, and months of rekindling those bonds into inferno once Wolfwood rises again only aids in his desire to be amongst them all again.

Kni swallows the sour taste in his throat at the thought of being surrounded by the threat of strangers, of humans still tearing each other apart in the excuse of defense, but the desire to stay close to his brother as they finally become brothers again wins out. Vash compromises with his own desires by offering the option of living somewhere on the edge of whatever town they choose, comfortably apart so Kni can continue the life he had slowly begun building for himself without the ever present fear crawling in his ribs of being swallowed by beasts but close enough to community that Vash may enter into the world anew.

They agree to it with little fanfare despite Vash’s obvious excitement and Kni sits in the sparse greenery he’s cultivated in their time living in this alcove of the world, rolling an apple between his palms as he ponders his goodbyes.

He’s grateful for the home they’d built with the doctor who had stitched Vash’s tattered body together, yanking him back from the hands of death as Kni cried prayer for his brother and repented, confession spewing from his throat in the unforgiving silence of the night. He’s grateful to the son who, in all his griping, carried the weight of their collected grieving and used untrained hands and young naivety to throw an axe through tense air between the brothers, allowing them to confront their wars without believing heaven was still crashing around them.

These man made walls hid them from the carnage Kni himself had wrought upon the world. Human hands healed his brother as Kni gagged himself on the blood soaked sins he carried. Human fingers pried Kni’s own bloody, bitten fingers from his throat and placed them on Vash’s still beating heart, with the promise of a second chance.

It’s a debt he will never be able to repay, he will carry this place with him until his final days.

Despite excited encouragement of a new refreshing life, Kni still finds himself reluctant to leave even the painful memories of angry, spiteful words behind. It feels like leaving a piece of himself behind that Kni didn’t know he had- etched into the earth amongst rows of compliant greenery, blood stains long washed out of wood and stone, the beds they had claimed now empty and spare mugs still in the pantry. There is evidence of reflection here, repentance.

Kni realizes he’s going to miss the quiet here, specifically.

Livio had offered his assistance in helping them settle into their eventual new home, with a rather enthusiastic Milly pitching her aide in as well- punctuated with a spine crushing hug for each brother that Kni still hadn’t gotten used to the intensity of. Vash had traveled for lifetimes, sentimentality in every town and reminiscing the people he had found glimpses of home in, encouraged by his friends' memories of the kindnesses they experienced in every length of their stays. But after nights of quiet confession between the brothers of fears and promise and the death rattle call of what a future could mean, Kni had agreed easily to December. To Hopeland.

What an ironic name.

When it came time to say their proper goodbyes- Vash tearfully promising to visit as Kni hid his own betraying, burning eyes- the twins allowed themself an excess of time to collect their things into Milly’s van, though it wasn’t commented on that the twins had very little when they settled in after the end of the world. However, they found themselves carrying in more than expected. Gifts, the doctor had said with a gruffness that did not leave room for argument, to bring a piece of their old home into the new, and supplies to get them off their feet.

It was a kindness Kni was certain they didn’t deserve- or at least that he didn’t deserve, but he did not voice the sentiment when Vash succumbed to a tearful hug and bit the emotions from his own tongue as too many bodies fit into the vehicle, listening to the echoes of goodbyes as waving hands faded from view.

Kni held a bag full of carefully woven blankets with trembling hands, Vash pointing out their new home on the horizon with his friends smiling brightly around him, and dared himself to hope.

It both was and wasn’t surprising that alongside their quiet, unimpressive home on the outskirts of Hopeland’s heart they had a rather remarkable stretch of land that, with a good bit of elbow grease and prayer, would potentially make for a rather good setting to garden- if the desert cooperated. There would already be quite a bit of refurbishing on their hands throughout the abandoned home, and the endlessly resistant dirt and sand promised to ease for effort, but Vash smiled like he knew beyond all doubt that Kni was grateful for this.

He keeps himself moving endlessly and quietly as they rebuild yet again, familiarity in dragging hands through the leftover wreckage of whatever transpired to leave such a home abandoned. Milly aids in the heavy labour as much as she can alongside Razlo while Meryl provides supplies from town until work calls the girls to the road again. Even with fewer bodies working around the property, the sounds of Vash’s loving hums as Wolfwood helps rebuild their roof becomes a constant song- especially now that they live so near to each other. Livio seemed unperturbed by the constant teasing affections and pointed banter, though soon enough the gentle giant himself is offering himself to Kni’s self proclaimed task of bringing their field to life.

Kni had quite firmly appointed the task for himself for both some peace and quiet, but also to utilize the land to its full potential now that the sense of permanence had begun to settle in. This could be something of his own, something he can do right. It feels right assigning his hands to grueling work.

That being said, Livio’s strength is admittedly helpful in driving the stakes for the tomas pens into place, and it is immensely helpful that he provides every odd and end tool he can get his hands on while they mark out the land exactly in line with what Kni had meticulously plotted. The extra pair of hands is an appreciated assistance once Kni is prepared to finally dig into the earth, and Livio celebrates by arriving with more seeds than Kni knows what to do with.

It feels like hardly any time at all before the house stands sturdy on its own legs again and the surrounding land bares hints of life. It had taken weeks to rebuild the house into something palatable, but it truly feels like hardly any time at all before a home stands before them with the promise of living. Vash’s friends skitter about their home to bring decorations and drinks and something of merriment that Kni finds entirely overwhelming, and he touches the greenery under his hands with something of reverence.

Vash’s friends had solidified themselves in this life as much as the twins had and Kni found himself expecting the lot of them to be crowding their home more often than not once Vash gifted them all a key with a promise of a roof whenever they were near again. Kni did not voice the same sentiment, but Milly still tearfully hugged Kni just as hard as his brother and he pointedly ignored Wolfwood’s laugh that he should “get used to seeing this ugly mug around”.

That night resulted with a touch too much liquor shared between exhausted bodies and extravagant promises of future endeavours, and Kni let himself be dragged into their resounding promises by a rather stern looking drunken Meryl and seated himself beside Livio- easily blaming the alcohol for the flush reaching his ears when a warm hand meets his back.

There is a tortuous voice in the back of his mind that edges too close to a motherly sound that reminds him that home is meant to be less a place and more the feeling that comes with being surrounded by friends and loved ones. He ignores the voice as best he can, even as it laughs sweetly.

In his nightmares, Kni has both succeeded and failed in the end of the world and is horribly, horribly alone, with not even the mangled body of his brother to scorn his foolishness. And when he wakes with a heartbeat pounding in his ears, Kni waits unmoving until he can make out the sound of soft snores across the house, the tomas' chittering in their pens, the cat that ever persists on their porch, and listens until he can convince himself this is real.

It’s almost laughable how much comfort he finds in anticipating the inevitable company of Vash’s haphazard group. Vash welcomes them with just as much enthusiasm every time regardless of how long they’d been apart, and Kni memorizes the sounds of their regular guests quickly enough that he no longer tenses at every sudden intrusion of their home.

It takes time, but even their shoes creaking on the porch becomes less an alarm of intrusion. Wolfwood’s voice carrying through the kitchen no longer brought a sickening dread when it arrived unannounced anymore- at most he provided a mild irritation, quite willingly on his part- as he lingered with reluctance to part from Vash. Livio had even become a rather consistent presence in the gardens alongside Kni, always announcing himself with a lean over the edge of the fencing during every arrival and propping a boot on the same squeaky plank of wood.

Being such a constant in Kni’s life meant his presence was predictably timed, anticipated, and his constant company had Livio becoming- begrudgingly admitted on a drunken night- someone Kni was perhaps growing something akin to fond of having around. Excusing it with reasoning of convenient assistance and a less intrusive companion to converse with did little to stop Vash from lighting up like a beam of neon at the admittance and Kni nearly emptied his drink onto Vash’s hair just to get him to stop looking at him like that.

Vash was proud of him, repeating so again and again while warm in the face from liquor, for finally letting someone in, admitting to seeing someone as a friend.

“It took over a century and a half, but the impossible finally came true!”

Vash got a solid thwack for that, but it didn’t stop his brother from laughing all the same.

It’d become something close to pleasant, living, though Kni could still feel the weight that dragged at his ankles despite the soothing nature of routine. He settled into privacy with his guilt as Vash eased his way back into the land of the living, and watched as Vash was finally able to socialize with humanity the way he’d been bemoaning about for months. They waited for the certainty that they wouldn’t be recognized- hunted, the more accurate term- before Vash dove for his chance to meet the locals, taking on any odd job he could get his hands on just to contribute to their lives and become a person among them, so painfully human.

Kni was less receptive to doing the same, but he would wave Vash off every time he parted ways for town and in time the anxiety of watching him go alone became as easy as watching him return safely every time.

In those times alone while Vash busied himself through town and traveling for Wolfwood’s company, Kni did occasionally find himself alone with Livio- though the man would be surprised not to find Vash also home in the first handful of instances. He’d apparently gotten used to seeing them both when dropping by in between his own responsibilities of rebuilding the orphanage, but even that pause of surprise gave way in time as he settled back into the space carved out for him in Kni’s company.

Despite the hesitation that came with having not been completely alone with any of Vash’s companions for lengths of time like this, Livio felt as comfortable a presence as ever and easily fit by his side as they worked long into the stretch of sunset. Regardless of whatever tasks he was given, Livio continued that light, easy conversation that filled Kni’s days with sound and stayed until responsibilities or exhaustion sent him away, and he always promised to return.

Eventually Kni thought to ask why Livio continued to come around so often despite Vash so rarely being home during the day the more he integrated himself in town. Kni was hardly excitable company like his brother, and certainly Livio would prefer the company of all of his friends rather than a former enemy. But the reply came so simply: that Livio “wanted to spend time with him, like friends do”.

An odd feeling knotted in his stomach at that notion, and it returned every time Livio shared that lopsided smile under the shade of his wide brimmed hat.

Kni chose to disregard the feeling every time it rose again, and he also disregarded the way he responded without tension to Livio peeking into the kitchen unannounced or leaning over the fence into Kni’s line of work. Livio simply entered the space while Kni dug into the earth or worked on canning the sugary cactus fruits Vash had brought home, always waiting until Kni acknowledged him verbally or settling into talking aimlessly until, like always, he was offered a task at Kni’s side.

“To keep your hands as busy as your mouth.” Like the excuse would shut Livio up, though Kni always found himself responding to the conversations once Livio was working beside him. Livio’s voice always carried a fondness to it when he filled the day with aimless stories of anything he could remember, as hopeless as Vash in always reminiscing about fond old memories and the small graces he enjoyed day to day, and Kni found himself encouraging even the repeated stories.

Under the shade of the porch after corralling the tomas’ back to their pens one unimportant afternoon, Livio admits that he enjoys the retellings because it means he can relive those joyous feelings, he can allow himself to remember those kindnesses as the man he is now.

He tells Kni with a soft smile he is grateful for the listening ear during all of his ramblings, and Kni’s chest tightens.

Against his better judgment, Kni had begun to remember the names of the people Livio would speak of during his idle recounts; the kids of the orphanage and their little quirks and hobbies, the townsfolk that Vash had begun to grow fond of fond of that Livio had spoken with while passing through, neighbours Kni hadn’t bothered to actually meet just yet, childhood companions Livio would reminisce from innocent days. For all this idle chatter, Kni always listened.

In time Livio even spoke of Razlo and the progress they had made together, especially when it came to teasing that he was just as much an older brother to the children at the orphanage as Livio had become. Kni’s raised brow must count for something, because Livio laughs like he’d never worried about anything Razlo had been capable of once.

It’s truly a bizarre thing to try and picture someone he had only known distantly as carnage and mania embodied playing with swathes of children, grinning full of teeth with helpless hands hanging off of his massive arms to play. However, Kni is not disbelieving. Razlo had grown into something close to even tempered in the years that have passed, his fronting fewer in their wild natured appearances now that Livio had settled into his own routine of life and subsequently doing the same now that he was no longer baring his teeth to protect Livio.

It had been an initially dangerous balance as Livio worked towards healing their relationship and moving beyond the traumas they had burdened together under the Eye especially, laying to rest the metaphorical crosses they carried in favour of aiding the children they themselves were never allowed to be.

They still held onto the fangs in the name of defense for their home, but now they had grown to rely on their superhuman strength to help rebuild and each day they washed a little more of the blood off of their hands as they provided kindness. It was worth the efforts, despite just how difficult the transition proved to be.

Razlo had been less receptive in the earliest months, a bloodshed always clinging to his teeth that did not trust Kni’s ability to keep his word of peace, and Livio had carried apologies long into their new life with a guilty heart despite Kni agreeing with every scathing word. Knowing Vash was alive seemed a relief for them both, a friendship forged in blood that gave them a freedom they never could have imagined, but Kni’s survival was met with unbridled hostility and Vash couldn’t cushion the blow of every hateful, deserved spit of venom. He would front with a snarl and the intent to rip Kni’s weakened self apart, and it worked.

But long gone were the biting words meant to belittle Kni and his pathetic fall from grace, no longer an angel above all to bring down the sword of God- though Razlo still called him angel during his appearances, a snickered mockery that would leave Kni scowling. No longer did he gnash his teeth and drive home how undeserving Kni was at having this peaceful life, grievances quieted in time.

It had taken quite a few fights between them before they had managed something closer to peace. Kni’s own defeated screams echoed confession as he tore at his hair, bearing truth to everything Razlo already accused with a fist at his throat, and Kni welcomed punishment by his hand each time they drew blood.

Now, Razlo teased with less vitriol at Kni for becoming nothing more than an old man tinkering away in his gardens, settling himself opposite to Livio’s place at Kni’s side to watch Kni dirty his hands. Razlo even went as far as to compare him to a “housewife” with the way Kni busied himself with the task of keeping a pristine, tidy home, apron and all.

“Now wouldn’t that be something, hah! I guess Liv has some good taste!”

Heat from embarrassment rises to Kni’s ears when he yanks off his apron to shove against Razlo’s chest, abandoning soaking dishes in the sink in favour of being quite literally anywhere else. Livio is the one to find Kni later, preening a shrub like it is the most important task at hand and Kni chews on his cheek when Livio fires off a myriad of stammered apologies.

Instead of acknowledging the jittery feeling that persists in his stomach- or perhaps just beneath his ribs, maybe he should inquire for a medical textbook if it doesn’t let up- Kni simply takes the apron back from Livio’s hands and ties it tightly around his waist again with perhaps a bit more force than necessary before marching back inside with Livio at his heels.

Despite Razlo’s persistence in embarrassing Kni once he realized how infuriatingly simple it was, Kni still did not avoid him when he fronted, and he did not shy away from Livio once he would return in kind.

In a way it allowed them a sort of vulnerability, Livio opening up about his progression with Razlo and his assistance at the orphanage, leaning beyond sentimental fondness and into quiet admissions. Though after a while, despite all of the time they spent sharing conversation and Livio bearing these honest parts of his gentle heart without shame, Kni realized he’d barely shared the same courtesy with anyone other than his brother.

However, even if it had become easier to talk to Livio about anything in particular, Kni admittedly had little to share of his own accord. Rarely would he speak of his time as Millions Knives, and beyond that he had only those few short years amongst the stars and the recent time spent in each other's company. With too little to offer and too much he couldn’t bring himself to speak about, Kni picked through his memories on Ship Five to share a tentative part of himself and hoped that maybe Vash hadn’t already spilled every story already now that his friends were privy to the reality of his life.

Despite the wary approach to sharing himself, any talk of his short span of living in space had Livio enraptured, wide glittering eyes and astonished expression never wavering. It always seemed to leave Kni’s ears burning at the tips with an odd encouragement to stretch out the stories like a fairy tale when he could, finding even himself watching the stars with a yearning instead of dread and heartache.

Livio had frequented his days carrying in the promise of warm company and the timber of his voice often enough that Kni found himself a bit at a loss when Livio wasn’t there. Even when following his daily tasks with the sound of the radio distant behind him, comfortable in the rhythm he had made in his daily life, Kni found himself looking towards the fence for Livio’s presence before reminding himself that Livio has his own work to do.

He had become as steady a presence as Vash were to Kni, which he certainly hadn’t been suspecting to admit even to himself, and Vash openly shared his gratitude for Livio’s inclusion in Kni’s expectedly lonely life. Even if Wolfwood came by, or even the girls, Vash seemed relieved that Kni had someone in his life that came simply for him, someone he actually seemed to be growing close with.

Though lately there would be a glint in Vash’s eye when asking if he had missed Livio after returning from town, asking if he and Livio had fun together ‘with the house to themselves’ in a tone that had Kni mildly suspicious. It would be the same as any other day Livio would come by, as on schedule as ever- no formal schedule was ever actually made, but Livio held to their self made routine and Vash certainly knew this- but Vash would shrug off Kni’s confused frown without elaborating.

Kni wasn't sure where the idea that any part of the routine had changed came from, and Vash had taken that consideration as an inspiration to throw Kni entirely under the bus and suggest that they all go to town together for a night out and “switch things up”.

Kni very very rarely made his way into town unless absolutely necessary, usually Vash took it upon himself to haul their produce to market while on his way to busy himself with work and playing with the locals. Going for essentials was bad enough when people would mistake Kni for his brother, so he certainly did not want to go for leisure into any sense of bustling activity. If he could enjoy something in the comfort of his own home then why leave it?

There is only so much immunity in the world to Vash’s pathetic, watery eyes and pleading for a chance to make memories with his brother again- a low blow, really- and after several devastating attempts at bringing Kni in on one of Vash’s ideas of a night out and warming him up with terrible booze and less convincing pleads for dancing to equally terrible live music, Kni eventually found himself easing into the evenings.

It was exasperating, and at times rather embarrassing to witness, but there were nights Kni could possibly describe as fun. They did not always feel so fun the next day, but Vash still thanked Kni for his company while curled up in a pathetic setup on the bathroom floor.

The first night Kni willingly sang along and danced with Vash however, full of cheap, dark liquor courtesy of Wolfwood’s wallet, Kni swore upon his grave the next pitiful morning that no, he absolutely did not sing or dance last night. Wolfwood could jeer all he wanted over coffee, Kni certainly did not remember such events transpiring so how could they have possibly ever occurred. How ridiculous. Fuck, his head hurt.

The next time he ended up dancing and singing with Vash in that terribly sticky saloon, despite all of Kni’s adamant claims to never doing either, Livio had joined their little posse and pulled Kni by the hand to swing him in time with the music and his own laughter. With a stature that large and bodies bouncing around them, Livio had to be mindful of where he stepped in their liquored haze- which meant he had to stay rather close to Kni as they danced.

Though during those fuzzy nights, where it happened again and again, he found himself not minding. The warmth of a familiar body felt less stifling than the sticky heat of strangers bumping into him, not knowing when the next knocking of shoulders would turn to reactive irritations. So Kni allowed himself to be close, easily dipped in Livio’s broad hands as they lost themselves in the sound of Vash’s bouncing across piano keys.

Kni is grateful for the worn out piano Meryl and Milly had managed to haul into their home. The due time and diligence it took before he could play it without Vash going white as a sheet with weeks spent tense and apologetic were a sore spot in Kni’s ribs, but it gave them a chance to seep the sound into their days again. And, subsequently, get Kni playing together with Vash while the two sang long forgotten songs in a saloon of humans who couldn’t possibly remember who Elton John was.

On wine-stained nights in, Vash’s drunken playing in their living room would lead to equally messy duets between the two brothers as they slowly ebbed into a sound together, carefully avoiding their composition that Kni had turned into a funeral march. They instead played songs from memory, only daring to play out their hearts in the silence of their own home when words could not hope to carry the meaning needed, Kni’s careful melancholy echoing in apology. But still they played, Vash played again without reluctance and Kni settled at the sound.

Wolfwood was fond of watching Vash prove the dexterity of his prosthetic when Vash entertained their audience, seeing a long lost side to Vash resurface with careful fragility. It opened the opportunity for the others to fill in the sound with their own, though only Meryl knew a few simple songs to contribute to consistent playing- the repetitive chords she and Vash strung together making for a boisterous time in writing horrible pub songs. Milly claimed the songs were masterful, Kni simply thought them a bothersome earworm.

Livio, watery eyed as he blabbered on about the bond between live music and community, searched for endless excuses to hear them play and the house echoed with voices singing terrible harmonies long into the night.

For as well loved as the instrument became, Livio approached carefully when asking if Kni would play as well. Admittedly Kni had never played of his own accord for Vash’s little flock outside of the alcohol soaked influences in the bar, his usual sober taste in playing more classical for the energies they usually carried through the night.

Certainly the Double Fang had heard the echoing of Knives’ emotions through the blackened keys mounted in his domain, the Punisher certainly had, but playing privately without the impulsivity that came with a drunken Vash’s infectious nature and an encouraging saloon was an entirely different story. Livio didn’t seem defeated by Kni’s avoidance on the matter, though he would only ask again when they had privacy from the parting glances of the company around them.

“Maybe someday”, a satisfactory enough answer that Kni didn’t feel particularly motivated to follow up on, though Livio lit up at the possibility all the same.

That damn smile, that damn twisting in Kni’s chest that left the question prodding at the back of his mind. It persisted like an itch he couldn’t dig out, leaving his fingers twitching. So, on an entirely unimportant day when Vash had left for town and it would only be Livio coming by for the rest of the day, Kni settled himself on the bench in their living room with a hesitant exhale and played until his head cleared again.

He played until Livio had creaked into the house, heavy boots sounding between the notes in a slow gait, and he continued to play long after Livio had settled in the archway and only stopped once there was nothing left to say with his song.

Kni did not acknowledge any of the compliments on his skills, nor the softened smile on Livio’s face when he shared his gratitude for the experience, and certainly not the fact that he began to easily settle onto the bench after their days at work to fill the space between them with sound just as Livio did with his words.

Not for any reason in particular, Kni had kept the development of playing for Livio after long hours in the sun when Vash wasn’t home to himself. Similarly, when Livio would stumble his hands across the keys with a clumsy racket in an attempt to mimic something graceful, Kni kept to himself that he would, with little hesitation, settle his hand over Livio’s and guide his fingers across the keys with the gentle press of his own.

Simple teaching guidance, she had done the same for them when the twins were younger and introduced to the instrument. It was easy enough to reach over Livio’s shoulder and guide his fingers, draped over his back and repeating the notes in order until Livio managed to follow along.

Sitting beside anyone other than Vash on the piano bench, however, was a strange adjustment, especially with someone Livio’s size taking up more than half of the bench. Kni’s narrow hips could suffice with the space left, but the two ended up always pressed into each other’s sides with how often Kni had to reach a guiding hand into Livio’s space.

There was no hum of resonance like that of Vash’s body next to his, a plant song long embedded in their dna- comfortable and familiar, unspoken synchronicity as they played. This was… clumsy, reaching into each other's space with unsure key notes ringing out, knocking shoulders and knees and speaking over each other before they could help it- the entire thing should have been frustratingly overstimulating.

Kni didn’t quite know why he laughed so easily from it instead, a small sound from quirked lips that grew the longer their hands laid together along the keys in a terrible attempt at a song Livio could barely remember from a lifetime ago.

He could feel Livio’s laugh rumbling under his ribs while pressed together like this, the shake of broad shoulders against Kni’s own knocking them together. The tenor of Livio’s voice was surprisingly soft and without the expected grit of a tortured assassin when scolding Kni for playing too fast before he can keep up, and Kni presses closer into the feeling of his laugh with a returned chide that ‘he has to keep himself from getting bored somehow’.

Comfortable. It isn’t the buzzing resonance he feels with Vash, but the low rumble of Livio’s laugh washes over Kni like he’s been submerged in a warm afterglow and he thinks that maybe he is starting to learn what it means to feel truly happy.

Kni’s hands don’t need to stay over Livio’s the longer they play together, simple and slower songs learned through short repeated intervals. But Livio’s large hands move easily with Kni’s as he focuses on the song and, if they stay like this, Kni can curiously compare their hands in the privacy of his mind.

Just as he is now, though he is currently picking glass out of Livio’s quickly healing hand rather than pressing their fingers into worn out black and white keys.

The serum long woven into Livio’s body is already pushing out the smaller fragments before Kni has to fish them out with tweezers himself, so he tasks himself with removing the larger shards and wiping away the blood before it can drip off of his palm. Livio is fully capable of doing this all himself, and he repeats this fact while visibly flushing about the blunder that brought them here while Kni simply offers the quick arch of a brow and uses the towel folded between his fingers to stop the blood from reaching Livio’s wrist.

“The damage was my fault, allow me to do this much at least.” The flow is much slower already, but Kni dutifull wipes it from every crease of skin it clings to and keeps his eyes on the injury.

“It was an accident, Kni,” Embarrassment colours Livio’s drawled reassurances and Kni dutifully ignores him. “Really, it’s alright!”

It was all an accident, and Vash had the most audible reaction out of the three of them at the sound of glass breaking despite Livio being the one bleeding from it. With their combined histories there was hardly any necessity in panicking over a simple wound caused by broken glassware, which showed in the heartbroken look on Vash’s face over whatever favour he held for that cup in particular rather than the state of his friend’s hand.

Kni couldn't remember which one he had been using that night, hopefully it wasn’t a gift.

Instead of socially expected fretting for towels and bandages, Vash had banished the two from the kitchen with exasperated flourish over the two having made a mess- though the real mess was on the counters with Vash’s heavily tipsy rendition of making some odd twisted breads covered in various salts and sugars that he had meticulously been preparing with a glass of his own sloshing around in hand.

Biohazards, he called them. Rude.

Regardless, Kni had tasked himself with cleaning the wound sheerly out of politeness and maybe a touch of guilt, dragging Livio out of the kitchen before he had even finished washing the sticky alcohol off of his skin. The dampened hand towel around his fist kept the damage contained, and Livio apologized for the mess while Kni only rolled his eyes at the sight of Vash mourning the mess of glass on the floor.

“It was a careless accident on my part, and I would prefer to be certain everything heals properly without potential shrapnel left behind.” There’s no doubt his hand will heal fine regardless, and they both know this. “Otherwise you’ll be complaining about it like a splinter the next time you brutalize my piano.”

Livio’s laugh is breathy as glass shards clink together on a dirty, discarded plate. Most of the pieces had dislodged easily enough on their own, with only the smaller fragments left behind rising easily enough to simply brush away from the healing wounds. Kni picks them up gently still when they stick, even though Livio shows no sign of pain from the injury.

Tiny, now pink fragments accumulate in a tidy pile and the bloodied towel soon joins the mess once Kni deems it useless for the congealing lines along Livio’s hand.

“Hey now, I’ve gotten gentler with it! I’m liftin’ my wrists like you tell me too ‘n everythin’, I can’t help that I’ve got bigger fingers than ya do. Makes it hard to play gracefully!”

The joints of Livio’s fingers have a few small gashes as well when Kni stretches the digits out for a final inspection, but it’s not difficult to see the skin already stitching itself back together. Idly, Kni brushes a thumb along the edge of Livio’s palm where the edges of wounds fuse themselves together in a steady knitting of flesh, following the odd sensation under his fingertip.

Kni gives a thoughtful hum in lieu of laughing at Livio’s defensive retort, biting down where the corner of his lip threatens to twitch and give him away.

“Mm, you have gotten better with your posture at least. I’m sure you could be a rather passionate pianist once you get some proper skill under your belt, you just need to keep doing what I tell you.”

Livio’s hand is pliant under Kni’s touch, even as he complains with something close to a pout. “Aw c'mon, I’m tryin’ my best!”

Kni’s smile does creep up on the corners of his lips at that and he traces the edge of a nail over the pucker of torn skin, “I know you are, which means you should keep doing what I tell you.”

It’s entirely matter-of-fact and Livio deflates into the couch cushion supporting him.

He doesn’t seem to have a good enough rebuttal to follow up with, so Kni focuses instead on Livio’s hand in his and continues to watch the angry red of gouged flesh stitch into the less irritated pink of fresh scar tissue, colour already fading further at the edges into the proper palour of Livio’s sun kissed skin. The natural curve of his palm holds together what is left of the split skin as the wounds weave together with little struggle and a beat passes where Kni wonders if perhaps he should let go.

Livio hadn't questioned why Kni seemed insistent on watching his skin stitch back together, but that doesn’t mean he needs to be holding his hand the entire time.

Kni drags his thumbs over the settling lines of scar tissue that tighten into the familiar texture of skin until he can no longer excuse holding onto Livio’s hand. He nearly manages some useless statement to announce the obvious state of being healed, even going so far as to almost stupidly return the appendage in question when Livio instead turns his hand in Kni’s grip.

Warmth envelopes one of Kni’s hands as Livio catches hold of sharp knuckles, padding his thumb across the thin skin between Kni’s pale, bony fingers. He finds himself enraptured- distracted, by the almost featherlight tracing of a finger, and despite the forward gesture he does not pull his hand away from Livio’s grip. Instead, Kni watches his hand within Livio’s and relaxes his fingers to feel scars smoothing out against his skin with every slow drag.

He nearly misses when Livio breaks the moment of silence.

“Did’ya have a learnin’ curve when you started playing? Or have ya always been a maestro?”

How easily it could be taken as a tease of his pride, but Kni knows that curious lilt in Livio’s voice well enough by now to know that he is asking with genuine curiosity. So he ponders the question despite the distracting touch and thinks back to when he had first delved into song.

Memories of time on Ship Five have gotten easier to share in time- though that isn’t always the case, and at times Kni still omits pieces of his recollection for the sake of softening the blow on his own fractured heart. But Vash has eased into and warmed that place in his memory in hopes that they could keep that part of themselves alive, from when they had each other. When they were young and happy-

Foolish, naive, ignorant.

Kni dislodges the burn in his throat with a swallow and excuses it to himself as leftover liquor still clinging to the back of his tongue, and thinks less on heartbroken song echoing in the ruins of a ship and instead finds the memory of a wide eyed child, touching keys in discordant sound like he had found the answer to everything.

“There was a bit of time where I could hardly play anything beyond what was certainly a racket, given it was an instrument I couldn't even fathom when first described to me.” 88 keys and full of hammers and strings? Kni remembers being doubtful that such a thing could even stand on legs until he was brought to the lone instrument for the first time, “And for a child, it was a rather lot of keys to work with when you’re inconvenienced with short arms.”

That gets a laugh out of Livio and Kni leans a hair closer to the sound. Baritone, restrained enough to not alert the company in the house, like he’s wanting to keep this moment a secret amongst themselves but can’t quite contain the sound before it comes out.

“You had short arms once? Yer all length an’ limbs, it’s hard to imagine you were ever small, even as a kid.”

Kni’s face screws into a pout for a fraction of a second before he schools his expression again, pocketing the tease as something closer to a compliment for the sake of his pride. “Well, by the time I was a year old I was approximately the size of a human 8 year old- no, perhaps a 10 year old. Either way, it wasn't long enough before I no longer had to worry about adjusting to the size.”

It’s said with such nonchalance that when Livio doesn’t respond immediately with another tease Kni wonders if he had said something extraneous, before reminding himself of the average human developmental rate. He hadn’t given much thought to how his own rapid growth might sound to a human- his body had reached a “peak maturity” by the time he was 10 years old and stalled out over the current expanse of his lifespan, as unchanging as his sisters’ in their corporeal vessels.

Though perhaps Livio would have a different opinion than most, given he had been forced into a rapid aging by Conrad’s experiments alongside Wolfwood. He still aged as humans always do, albeit notably slower than most due to the constant cellular regeneration, but the majority of his growth had also been in a rather painfully short timeline and Livio hadn’t aged significantly since then.

It was of note however that, unlike Kni and Vash with their plant biology ever present in maintaining their unchanging bodies thus far, Wolfwood and Livio were subject to the human inevitability of bodies adjusting to the progression of age. Livio’s body had started to soften around the middle with his now comfortable lifestyle where Kni’s muscle hadn’t lost its definition, but Livio still appeared as youthful as he’d ever been as their quieter lifestyle settled over the years. Even the skin on the back of his hand was still smooth, roughened at the knuckles by his efforts in the garden though not yet showing the thin lines of age under the dusting of hair.

Tearing his eyes away from his hand in Livio’s where the gentle stroke of his thumb had paused, Kni looks up to find Livio lost in thought with his gaze focused on their connected hands. The gears visibly turn in his head towards whatever conclusion he must be searching for- perhaps Razlo had made a comment that required his focus, Kni wonders- and after a moment of pondering further Livio takes the information in stride with a simple, soft “huh” without elaborating further.

Curiosity ebbs in his mind, but Kni does little to encourage it forward and instead offers the superfluous gesture of elaborating on his point once Livio’s gentle touch returns.

“Plants are rather attuned to song, so once I was familiar with the range the keys provided it was rather easy to lose myself in the sound and play whatever came to mind. It was more an… emotional improvisation rather than trying to make a palatable composition when I had first learned to play,” It’s a near cruel memory, the hours spent crawling his reach across the keys when he had only himself for comfort long after the fall, but it’s only brings an empty aching. “Hm, I suppose it still is. It’s communication for us after all, in a way.”

It’s easier to watch Livio’s fingers trace the length of his own rather than be betrayed by his eyes when the memory of a song rings in the back of Kni’s mind. He and Vash hadn't played that song together since they had composed it out of discordant noise and overlapping keys back when all they knew was the stars and innocent hope. Kni hadn't played it himself since he announced to the heavens his final confession, an apology to his brother and sisters, and he laid the song to rest when he and Vash committed to this life together.

He misses the song for the comfort it brought in his time apart from the world, but it holds little comfort now as it echoes in his head.

There is a squeeze to his palm that grounds Kni to himself before the echo can deafen his thoughts and his fingers twitch against Livio’s like a subconscious reach for a tether, grateful as Livio speaks first above the sound.

“Vash compared it once to typin’ out thoughts without usin’ words when he introduced me to one of yer sisters a while back,” If not during the time it took to release the Double Fang and Vash’s final march into their fight then it must have been a recent venture if Vash had gone to see one of their nearby sisters- he hasn’t yet been able to muster the courage to try reaching out to his sisters yet himself despite Vash’s reassurances, but Kni doesn't press for specifics regardless and simply nods along. . “He mentioned some animals from back on earth, creatures that lived in water an’ spoke through a song y’could hear when under with ‘em.”

Kni can’t help the tilt of his lips that comes when thinking about Vash trying to explain the concept of whale songs, and then ultimately having to try to explain what the hell a whale was.

“Those would be the closest comparison, yes. Our sisters don't speak like we do, so they use a song not unlike those creatures. Although the sound is more of a collective voice sharing emotions, concepts rather than words, so even if you could hear it as we do in our heads you wouldn't be able to understand it. We just simply… know what they mean to say.”

Legato had attempted to hear the song of the plants with his telepathic abilities only once of his own accord, and rightfully ended up collapsed with a debilitating migraine for days afterward without anything to show for his efforts. He needed no convincing to never attempt it again.

Kni presses his knuckles alongside Livio’s as his lips purse in thought, fingers threading between each other in a loose intertwining that doesn’t quite seal itself. It’s a languid motion that aligns their hands, and neither breaks their gaze away from where they connect.

“It seems like a simple concept…”

“... But?” There’s amusement in Kni’s voice, goading the obvious as their fingers align along fingertips.

“But, I’m guessin’ it's much more complex than our ‘silly human brain’ could possibly understand.”

Livio carries a teasing tilt to his voice with the confidence to mock how Kni used to- and occasionally still does- talk of humanity's simplicity knowing Kni won’t bite defensively from the provocation. There’s definitely a touch of Razlo creeping up to it, and Kni can almost hear the mockery of “tryin’ to be special with yer plant shit again, huh?”, cocky bastard.

In a matter-of-fact deadpan, Kni nods his head and follows where warmth seeps into his skin as their hands line up- palm to palm, fingers aligning with their gaze never breaking away from where they connect.

“Exactly.”

“Ha ha.”

It’s the most deadpan laugh Livio can manage while breaking into a smile so easily, and even his laugh turns genuine despite his efforts. Even while Kni keeps his gaze on their connected hands, the corner of his own mouth curls up in amusement and he fights back the way his teeth try to peek out from behind his lips. It’s surprising his cheeks don’t hurt from the effort.

Instead of succumbing to the laugh that threatens to bubble up his throat, Kni presses his hand fully to Livio’s and searches for the heartbeat that thrums under his skin. Kni’s palm is smaller than Livio’s, fingers disproportionately longer by just enough that the longer they stay connected like this the more obvious it is, and he rewards Livio’s confidence with an easier attempt at a further explanation.

“Think of it like this: even when you hear a song without lyrics, you still feel an emotional response to the melody, an understanding or an interpretation of what it is trying to tell you, yes?”

Livio nods as their hands tilt together in something of a wave, a sway that presses the joints of their fingers together. Kni can feel his heartbeat through the calluses on warm fingertips and follows the swirl of his fingerprints with every slow tilt of their hands.

“See, it actually is quite simple. It doesn’t matter if we are hearing the song from across the desert or while in the tanks with our sisters, we are able to understand the call as easily as you and I understand each other right now.”

He tries to ignore how wistful his voice sounds at the notion while their fingers misalign again, fingers slipping between each other with the natural curl of relaxing muscle. In due time Kni could wonder just when he became so comfortable with Livio’s lingering touch, but for now he is content with simply enjoying it.

“It can really be heard from that far away?” Livio seems to marvel at the idea, his voice full of soft spoken wonder, and Kni almost forgets that plants were considered something like angels to humans for so long- alien and impossible.

“We can hear their call just as they hear ours, a plant’s song always echoes for their siblings to hear.”

Livio’s face holds such an honest amazement like he’s been handed precious knowledge to cherish- and given his bleeding heart, he probably will cherish it for years to come.

“I’ve heard Vash hummin’ to the plants before, even when we ain’t around any of ‘em.”

It’s hard not to hear Vash’s song for their sisters when he calls to them, longing for their welcoming sound and comforting them where Kni hadn’t yet trusted himself to reach out his own apologetic song. Even if Vash doesn’t call for them, he often carries a tune alongside his days like he can’t help but sing his peace, while Kni stays in a contemplative silence.

Kni feels the joints of their fingers squeeze together for a moment. “Some people simply like to sing, I’ve heard you hum a fair share of tunes while you work after all.”

Kni steals a glance in time to watch Livio’s cheeks darken several shades at the observation despite having never been subtle about his idle whistling and humming while he works. There’s something to be said about a ‘noisy assassin’, but the thought ends before Kni can bother to voice it and Livio side steps the callout with all the grace he can manage.

“It sounds different when he hums to ‘em, though. I don’t think I’ve even heard ‘im take a breath when he does it.”

There’s something to the statement left unsaid- something Livio visibly wants to ask, told by the scrunch between his eyebrows and the slight pout that he makes when trying to find a tasteful way to ask something personal without coming across as insensitive. The first time he had seen the particular look Livio had ended up asking if Kni was capable of sweating like humans do, and had received a conveniently placed foot in his path that left him sneezing sand for a pitiful amount of time after.

Kni had gotten more receptive to the questions at least, finding himself minding less and less giving explanation of his body as an Independent plant- no longer pinned under a microscope or awaiting dissection, just simply becoming understood as the being he is. And Livio accepted the certainly strange pieces of information with the same wonder Vash had when learning of humans, taking the information in stride without replacing Kni on the pedestal carved out for angels of legend.

Even with the weakened state of his body there is no alienating horror, Livio is simply voicing his human curiosity to better understand his friends- and without any noticeable encouragement Livio would do little more than ponder the unknown without resolve. So, Kni grants him mercy.

“It’s different than using vocal chords, if that's what you're wondering.”

The scrunch softens, so Kni continues.

“Plant songs are more akin to the echoing of vibrations rather than the hum that comes from air passing through vocal chords, although they can sound rather similar out loud. We aren’t breathing out the notes, the vibrations that make each song are simply echoed out through the hollow of our bodies as we project them outward. It sounds like humming when you hear us in the open air, but in the tanks along with our sisters it echoes more clearly, carried through the fluid like sonar,”

From within their confinement, his sisters’ singing can project enough that the vibrations can be picked up by human equipment- but they never hear their songs with their own ears, or his sisters screams beyond the whine of straining glass.

“It’s a frequency meant for us to understand, not for human ears to discern. But as a bridge between the two, I suppose it makes sense that our songs resemble such a human sound, a chance for humanity to understand what is being said. We can sing a plant song into the air, while our sisters cannot.”

It’s the simplest way Kni can explain something that isn’t entirely echolocation, and Livio seems to catch on well enough to the description as his thumb runs along Kni’s thoughtfully. Livio’s hearing is advanced enough with the body modifications he’d obtained that he’s certainly heard the difference in Vash’s thoughtful humming and when he calls for his sisters, but now it seems to make proper sense to him.

The huff that escapes Livio is nearly a chuckle, and Kni catches the glint in his eye that comes with reminiscing. “Y’know, somethin’ ‘bout it almost reminds me of the stories Ms Melanie read t’us a long time ago, ‘bout siren songs callin’ out to sailors at sea.”

With their fingers interwoven like this, Kni can see how far his fingers reach as he traces the length of tendons along the back of Livio’s hand. Their hands lower with the gentle tug of gravity until their arms rest across their respective knees, and Kni shrugs absentmindedly as he parts the coarse hairs on the back of Livio’s hand.

“Hm, perhaps those stories were onto something.”

Their fingers stay loosely intertwined and Livio pads his thumb along the edge of Kni’s nail, head tilting a little with that curious scrunch still on his brow.

“I’ve heard Vash make some odd sounds over the years, an’ when he got all… y’know,” Livio uses his spare hand to mimic a fluffing motion around his head and Kni’s brow raises at the comment on defensive instinct before he remembers; Livio had been one of the few who had seen Vash lose control of himself long ago in the peak of their war, the trills and chirps an unforgettable, inhuman sound- and, in Kni’s experience, a rather embarrassing sound to make when losing control.

Livio continues with careful consideration, “Are those sounds made the same way ya sing, or is it more like speakin’?”

Kni may never admit to those early years where he himself fell into feathery, pitiful despair, shrieking like a monster in the shadows as his body split apart with too many wings and limbs as he mourned his brother in abandonment- and it seems the loss of self is something Vash also prefers not to speak on, so he saves them both the pitiful admission and evens his voice.

“That would be more akin to speaking, given it is the attempt to use a voice when in… that state. There is a loss of muscle control and coherency that allows only for instinct when we lose control like that, so the sounds that can be managed are either an attempt to call out our song through vocal chords or simply trying to form words that end up coming out as those sounds you likely heard. We are still trying to be understood while our plant genes dominate, and our bodies are trying to compensate for that during the transformation.”

Livio’s fingers mirror the motion of tracing tendons, “So, the sounds are a response to bein’ overwhelmed, in a way humans can understand?”

Another, smaller shrug. “Simply put. It’s all an attempt at communication, albeit a messy one in that state.”

The warmth of Livio’s hand does little to warm the perpetual iciness of Kni’s own, but he can still enjoy the way the warmth seeps into the back of his hand where large fingers rest.

It’s almost cute how Livio visibly pieces all of this new information together in his head. For all his simplicities he is still a remarkably intelligent man and Kni thrives under the constant ponderings, Livio always inquires with the intent to actually understand and Razlo encourages his curiosity in equal measure even if he calls it boastful on Kni’s part.

He must be voicing for them both, but Livio still carries that sweet, curious lilt that is all his own. “I know ya said playin’ music was a way for you to communicate, but do y’ever sing?”

There’s a memory of drunken songs from old, long lost westerns Kni had slurred into Livio’s ear while carried on his back when his legs couldn’t carry him home that surfaces embarrassingly quickly, and Kni hopes Livio is not remembering that singing in particular.

“Ah, with yer plant song, I mean.” Clarification, that’s all it is, Kni buries his embarrassment before it can burn at his ears.

It’s a drawn out moment while Kni allows himself to think back to when he had last sung beyond the nights of drunken inhibitions. Even as he has grown to weave notes across the keys with Vash in careful conversation again, he realizes with a sour feeling in his stomach that he hasn’t sung since the world nearly ended in a flurry of feathers and debris.

He rarely speaks of his time as Millions Knives, not when the discomfort from the memory freezes the air around anyone who had been subject to his violence. He existed in solitude even then, despite so much under his thumb of influence, with only the dying cry of his sisters around him fueling his desperation. Kni did not allow his followers to know him, even those closest in his ring of influence had only a distant understanding of who he was- enough to follow him dutifully, but nothing more. They could hear the piano echoing through cavernous halls, but they did not understand what was being said.

It takes him a beat longer than it should, but Kni speaks with a voice he hopes does not bleed with guilt.

“... I used to, though not enough for our sisters’ sake. I played with the intent to be heard, played everything I wanted to say, but saying even that was always for them wouldn't be… entirely truthful,” it should have been, he should have tried to soothe his sisters with his voice rather than only screaming his heartbreak and fears through mournful funeral keys, “They would listen, and I would echo their pain when I played, but I rarely sang it. They could not hear me…”

His throat feels tight with emotions he does not want surfacing, not now, and his eyes burn enough that Kni understands the instinct to reach for a bitter drink to drown the terrible feeling- but their hands are still touching, lax on their laps and still connected by interlocking fingers.

Swallowing the ache, Kni continues with a lower voice in his admittance. “When I could, I would go to where I held our dying sisters and I tried to sing for them. I wanted to soothe them, promise them their pain would end soon, that they would be free of their shackles. I tried to take their pain, let them return the song, but plants nearing their last run can do little more than scream as they die.”

The bitterness in his voice is familiar and wrong and Kni tightens his jaw at the tenseness that flashes through Livio’s body, caught before it can be hidden, before pulling his hand away towards the heavy shadow that lingers over his shoulders.

He barely manages to break the contact of their skin before Livio’s hand slides across Kni’s knee and their fingers weave together tightly, caught with their palms fitting together before Kni can retreat. It freezes Kni in place so instantaneously that he has to remember to take an unnecessary breath, fighting the desperate urge to flee from Livio’s gentle voice.

“What would you sing to ‘em?”

He shouldn’t bare his fangs at this, but his lip twitches up in a horribly familiar sneer. “What does it matter, that song has long since died with them.” That song died with Millions Knives and his plight to tear humanity from history.

It’s an unfair bite and Kni knows his hackles are raising of his own accord even as he tries to breathe out the tension threatening to coil into his back. But relief comes remarkably easier than expected when Livio squeezes his fingers on the exhale.

His voice is ever gentle, even with the threat readying itself in front of him. “Is that why it took so long for ya to play again?”

The blow is an honest one that flashes shock across Kni’s face before he can help it, but it's enough of a shock to replace the rising, bitter feeling with being damn near affronted. Livio knows why Kni hadn’t played when they had first propped the piano up in their home- Vash had certainly recounted the memory enough for a lifetime- and Kni can't quite tell if he should be rightly pissed or not.

He wants to gnash his teeth on instinct, so Kni gives himself a beat to make sure he won't despite the flare of his nostrils and deflects with what he hopes is the equivalent of a flick on the forehead rather than a fist to the cheek. If he can take this as an out, he will.

“I started playing again before the lot of you started dragging me on those god awful benders, I just happened to be inspired enough to add it into my busy schedule again.”

Livio’s laugh is louder at that than it had been previously and the tension uncoils further from Kni’s muscles. Grateful for the escape before memories can rear their ugly heads properly, he basks in the sound and squeezes Livio’s hand back with a quiet gratitude and continues on with his own jab, twitching muscle in his lip relaxing as he glowers with significantly less heat to it.

“What, are you trying to make a song request? That’s rather bold of you, and after all I’ve done to teach you how to play.”

It’s not quite deadpan enough in its execution to carry believable irritation despite Kni’s best attempt at doing so, and Livio counters with a voice far too gentle for Kni to deserve. He smiles with teeth and Kni memorizes the shape of each blunt fang.

“Well actually, now I’m just lookin’ for an excuse to hear ya sing.”

Now that hits its mark better than his own bite, enough that Kni feels heat rise to his face despite the scowl he tries to quickly overpower it with. Livio’s lopsided grin is a curse and he at least has the decency to wear a flush across his cheeks alongside the innocent bat of his eyes he sends Kni’s way.

He’s going to actually bite the bastard, dignity be damned.

“You’re acting like it's more a spectacle than it really is.”

Livio tilts his head with a thoughtful hum, but his grin doesn’t fade. “I’ve heard Vash humming’ plenty of times, an’ sometimes when he sings it seems like he can’t carry a tune to save his life. But I’ve heard you play, forgive me for bein’ curious about how ya sound when you sing.”

If his fang pierces his inner lip hard enough to make him jump, Kni doesn’t acknowledge it. Not even as he tastes a drop of blood on his tongue.

He burns under that stupid, cheeky smile and for one horribly drawn out moment he considers entertaining the idea. God, he can hear the ghost of Midvalley’s crude cheer of encouraging a willing audience, and wishes himself significantly drunker this very moment.

That’s… not a bad idea, actually.

“...Give me the rest of your drink and I will.”

Livio’s eyebrows lift at that, and the excitement twitching at the corners of his mouth immediately gives away that he’s not even bothering to mull the trade over for a second. Their fingers finally slip apart from their seemingly endless tangle just so Livio can present what liquor is left in his glass like an offering.

Kni takes it- fingers dragging over Livio’s as he does- and pauses to watch Livio’s golden eyes shine in anticipation before swallowing what’s left in the glass in one deft motion. It’s barely enough to do more than provide a burning down his throat as he wipes a thumb across the corner of his mouth, but Vash has spoken highly of liquid courage and he supposes that it will have to do. Setting the glass down with finality and curling a finger to beckon Livio a touch closer before nerves can try to creep up his spine, Kni tucks himself into the space between them as the burn settles into his stomach.

He’s admittedly used to the open, echoing chamber of the storage facilities that held his sisters to carry his sound, always able to hear his song no matter how quietly he shared it in their privacy. So he knows his song is much softer than Vash’s by a noticeable amount, and even with sharper hearing Kni knows it’ll be harder to hear whatever song he manages- the creeping betrayal of being shy of all things certainly not aiding his favour.

With the burn still warm in his throat as a distraction, Kni avoids the piercing, anticipating gaze Livio doesn't bother to hide by closing his eyes and letting a soft hum rise into his chest. He refuses to open his eyes like this, so he doesn't see the flush rise high on Livio’s cheeks, and instead lets the soft, rumbling sound pitch through softly parted lips.

He doesn’t sing anything in particular; not a song from memory or their records or the radio Vash has grown so incredibly fond of, and he doesn't sing any of the songs that ring from his distant sisters. Kni simply settles into the rise and fall of energy that thrums through his body, guided into pitch like instinct, as easy as breathing. It directs him like the sway of a current, wordless and reminiscing as it pulls him through the content space he’s built between them.

It almost resembles the tunes Vash hums during his quiet, content days, the peaceful feeling that comes with a relieving breeze under the spreading shade of their orchard, the gentle vibrations from the worms underfoot, sand shifting with the wind and the soft feathers of the tomas under his hands.

It’s a comfortable enough feeling that Kni doesn't realize how close Livio has become until he feels the ghosting edge of a breath on his skin, his eyes opening with a too quick inhale that cuts off his sound in an instant, over before he had barely even started.

Livio had been in rather close proximity before- hell, he had carried Kni’s drunk ass around enough times for Kni to be rightfully embarrassed about- but leaning in to turn his ear toward Kni, shadowing their faces from the dim lamp beside them, Kni is frozen by the fact that Livio is very close.

The house feels much quieter than he knows it is, and Kni almost seeks out the sound of Vash puttering around the kitchen just to make sure the world is still moving around them.

Livio at least has the gall to look embarrassed about invading Kni’s space, backing up a fraction with a flush that reaches his ears, and his voice comes out hushed and apologetic, “Sorry, I couldn't hear ya well…”

Kni is going to bite Livio’s ear off, or at least bite it. His too sharp teeth feel too big for his mouth and he wishes for the self control to bite his own tongue off to curb whatever feeling this is. That god forsaken tightness returns in his chest and Kni pleads that it is simply the liquor finally getting to work.

For a moment he thinks of trying to be louder, the simplest solution to the issue, but Vash is still very much in the next room even if there is only silence ringing in Kni’s ears, and if he hears Kni singing into his friend’s ear like this then he will most certainly never hear the end of it.

If Kni stays quiet then they at least run less of a risk of Vash departing his duties in the kitchen, he won’t be so inclined to interrupt if he stays distracted by the task at hand. It’s so quiet that Kni allows himself to believe that there’s no need to check their odds, to break out of this shadow of privacy.

His mind reels for excuses as to why this is something he even allows himself to consider, warning him that this is a bad idea, and Kni takes Livio’s hand with more confidence than he really has.

Instinct screams that he’s being stupid stupid stupid. The fear that has never left the fibers of his very being since that mutilated discovery of their older sister rears its ugly head as Kni lifts Livio’s hand and god those golden eyes are on him, confused and for one horrid second entirely unreadable.

Kni feels Livio’s hand twitch when placed against the thin, exposed skin that connects his sternum to the hollow of his throat. Fingertips lay against his collarbone under the fraying edge of linen, pulled by the wrist to press a hesitant palm to a shuddering chest, and Kni wills his hands to not betray him as he guides the gentle stroke of a thumb and shapes Livio’s hand around his throat.

The sound of his voice is hardly louder than a breath, his fingers already shaking.

“Feel it, that should help you follow the sound.”

God, he wants to run. He wants to run away from this horribly stupid thing he's doing and yet he holds onto Livio’s wrist, waiting for hesitant fingers to settle around his throat with the faint pressure of a thumb brushing along an artery. Livio breathes out Kni’s name with a confused whisper that he can feel ghosting over his lips, and Kni ties himself into this stupidly reckless noose by shifting himself an inch closer into Livio’s touch.

He knows his nerves are showing, Kni can feel the strain pulling on his brow even as he tries to steady his expression. The alcohol in their bodies is not nearly potent enough for either of them to brush this into their ever growing pile of drunken decisions and Kni watches Livio for the heartbeat he is able to before he squeezes his eyes shut and sings.

This is an unsure song, a nervous hum that Vash would immediately understand as something so pathetically embarrassed and wary. But Livio doesn’t know better, he stays perfectly silent and perfectly still and incredibly close and listens to the song creeping its way out of Kni’s chest. The healed skin on Livio’s palm carries no ridges of scar tissue where it aligns to his throat and Kni sings through the anticipation of having a too large hand snap his neck with the vengeance of nearly two centuries of sin.

He should do it. It would do absolutely nothing to make up for the endless suffering Kni had brought to Vash, to humanity, to the planet he had stranded all of them on, the mountains of bodies left in his wake either by his own hand or the Eye of Michael. Even the too large body Livio occupies, grown into so quickly his skin couldn’t keep up and wrung through enough torment and agony to destroy minds. It would make up for none of it, but it would be deserved.

Kni sings, wordless and restless with the heat of skin meeting the heat of alcohol in his throat.

It would be such an easy thing too. Kni had never willingly allowed someone to touch him like this, never placed himself so willingly into the danger of human hands. He had accepted the wrath thrown at his body after the final fight, every returning soul raging because somehow Kni still survived when so many innocents had died- he had accepted in those bloodied moments that this could be his end, over and over and waiting for it to be over.

But he had never willingly put himself on the executioner's block like this, had never pulled the hands to himself to give them the choice on what to do with his body, his life.

Kni sings, trying to follow the warmth on his skin before the memory of preservation tanks can freeze his ribs in place.

Like this, Kni is starkly aware of how breakable his wilted body truly is. He can feel the brush of a calloused thumb along his throat, palm and fingers dragging agonizingly light over his pulse, and Kni’s song pitches towards fearful before he can help it.

Kni thinks of his sister’s mangled corpse, the hands that pulled her melting body apart, and his chest stutters.

He tries to swallow the sound before it makes itself known, as obvious as the tremble in his fingers, but when he feels fingertips press a firmer in their trailing up the sides of his neck Kni nearly fails to steady his sound before a whine can break free.

Songs are too honest. He feels too laid bare even knowing the words are his own, the sound pitching and betraying his heart even if only he knows its true meaning.

It’s a slow enough journey up the front of his throat that, despite knowing Livio’s endless kindness and how tender the touch of those large hands can be, Kni wonders if the gentle giant is debating how best to strangle the beast before him. Ignoring that pleading part of himself that had grown terribly fond of living while swathed by the warmth that continued to reach for him in the dark, Kni pressed into Livio’s touch like an encouragement. A confession.

The next breath of his name sounds as sad as his song, and Kni wishes for one sickeningly truthful instant that he could force a happier sound out of his chest for Livio’s sake. But all he has ever been is afraid.

The higher Livio’s hand travels the farther Kni tilts his chin back, throat displayed for a deserved beheading like the miserable thing he is. His song stutters again as Kni awaits the inevitable squeeze around his jugular and instead he feels a gentle palm rest against his jawline, encompassing his cheek easily as a thumb swipes under his tightly shut eye.

Kni’s song whispers into the space between them, a gentle drifting note held out with nothing but that warm hand on his cheek offering a comfort he hasn’t allowed himself for a lifetime. Even with the quiet of his song, Kni almost doesn’t hear the quieter voice responding to the call.

“You’re safe, Kni, I'm not gonna hurt you…”

A fist through his gut would hurt less- hell, being melted into bone again would feel less agonizing than this. It isn’t fair that he believes Livio, he hates that he believes him at all and Kni hates himself more than ever for pressing his cheek into Livio’s hand with an honest trill.

Their knees knock together as Livio’s fingertips brush through waves of long since blackened hair and Kni, selfish as he is, holds onto Livio’s wrist to keep him close. Pressing his nose to tanned skin, Kni can make out the lasting hints of soap that smell a touch too much like artificial flowers, traces of the flour from whatever decadence Vash momentarily allowed their help in preparing, the memory of blood and whiskey Kni did his best to wipe clean in apology- a shaky breath disrupts his already fragmented song and Kni does not open his eyes.

“I’m sorry,” Kni’s lips move against the heel of Livio’s hand, lips moving despite how little sound he lets out. He doesn't trust himself to keep his voice even. “Let me try again.”

Selfish, selfish, selfish, Kni can smell the sap from the bushes they had cut down earlier in the day to make room for drying racks- Livio had mentioned drying fruits, Kni easily agreed to the idea- and the dull soap from the laundry they carried in before Kni had conceded to Vash’s insistence that they deserved a drink after a long day of work. He can even find traces of the sweat that clung after basking under the twin suns, a clear day like any other but appreciated for its beauty regardless.

Livio is close enough that Kni can smell the liquor on his breath so faintly- that cheap whiskey they always kept too many bottles of, Kni can taste it on his own tongue.

His song shakes its way out from parted lips, whispered against a steady heartbeat, and the gentle caress of a thumb under his eye brushes across an uneven ridge rising on his cheek until the tight pinch of his face starts to give way.

He doesn't know what his song is longing for, crying out for, but he finds the steady beat of Livio’s heart under his fingertips and Kni clings to the rhythm as he hides under Livio’s shadow.

Kni hasn't been small in a very long time.

He feels very small now.

His song requires no breath and yet Kni finds himself desperate to keep Livio’s scent in his lungs, letting his own puffs of breath stick to Livio’s skin as he takes in useless air. If he keeps it in his senses, then Kni helplessly believes he could hold onto the truth of Livio’s kindness- he can follow those sun beaten days where he found familiarity, clarity in shared confidence, leaning into the hand at his back as he found pride again. A companion, a friend, a life ached for by a child who only hoped to belong.

Affection overwhelmes his fears and Kni chokes on his song, chest caving from the bone deep terror that claws at the walls of his ribcage and he turns to escape before he can find out which will prevail.

Kni doesn't have far to go, with fingertips guiding his jaw before he can pull away. He caves easily to the guidance, and when their foreheads press together Kni can feel the pinprick of feathers surfacing along his cheeks and hairline where their skin aligns. He wants so badly to duck away, to pry the plumage from his hair and pluck away every reveal of himself but the hand, featherlight as ever, keeps him exactly in place.

Livio’s touch is so painfully merciful, never wavering in its gentle pressure, and Kni’s song hitches when he feels a thumb graze over his lower lip.

A slow, steady motion traces the plush of Kni’s lip to the corner of his mouth and back again where his song escapes him. Kni can feel the vibrations of his song in his teeth and he tries to steady the sound as his lips part with more ease than he’s willing to admit- anticipation, the return of a familiar body at his side while they bruise their knees on rocky patches, the way they fall easily into step in each others arms while dancing in a stupor.

Kni waits, his song carries softly in the short distance between them and he waits- for what exactly he isn't sure. But he risks an answer by slowly opening his eyes and god, he does not deserve the way Livio smiles at him.

There is so much melancholy in those eyes, something so profoundly understanding that for a moment Kni wonders if he's been wrong his entire life and Livio could understand every note of his song as if Kni spoke it all with only words. It’s unfair how gentle and dare he believe fond the smile on Livio’s face is, despite Kni knowing he is entirely undeserving of it.

He feels a knuckle trace over the feathers that curl around his cheek and disappear into his hairline, stroking back the white from his peripheral with a voice so sweet Kni could cry.

“Thank you, for lettin’ me hear you…”

Kni doesn't know what to do with himself, the sudden flush of warmth that runs through his body cries with the need to do something without bothering to tell him what that something is and it nearly topples Kni despite already being seated. All he can manage is to lean into the pad of Livio’s thumb and breathe his name with the closest sounds to begging he’s ever managed aloud.

He had pleaded for Vash to understand, to join his side with demand and desperation and falling into defiant rage. But this? Kni feels weakened, lost and grasping for any guidance. He aches for something he does not have a name for and begs for an answer without knowing where it will take him until the unknown overwhelms him and all he can do is cling to Livio’s heartbeat.

It barely takes a moment, but Kni finds himself sucking in a useless breath when that thumb parts away and is carefully replaced with gentle lips- Kni closes his eyes like he's expecting a sudden strike across the face and is met only with a hand cradled against his jaw. A split second of thanking God for the hand keeping him steady flashes through before Kni can only focus on the warmth flooding his body and the resounding sense of calm washing over him that he does not expect from the press of their lips. It settles every tremble left in his body, every unsure coil, and he feels so incredibly warm.

Kni knows what a kiss is, he remembers the movies she had shared where actors kissed their beloved with flourish and sang about racing hearts and butterflies in their stomachs.

He thinks this feeling is much better than any of that nonsense, and the kiss parts before Kni can even try to chase it.

Livio’s face burns alongside the nervous glance he shares when he pulls back enough for Kni to see the flush spread across tanned skin, apologies ready on his tongue. Kni almost ducks into his hands to settle the feathers that flare along his hairline like a halo in an attempt at composure, but his hands only manage to grasp lamely at Livio’s shirt when they reach and he stops Livio’s words in their tracks.

He can still taste whiskey from Livio’s lips, he feels a warmth through his body that he can't figure out where it starts and where it ends, and for once Kni finally understands why Vash sings of love for all the world to hear.

It’s clumsy, Kni hasn't kissed a living soul like this before and he certainly hadn’t bothered to practice or at all educate himself on the motions of a kiss beyond knowing that lips touch for it, but he leans in to kiss Livio with what he hopes is the same gentleness that he was granted. Even when their noses bump together from the poor angle Kni attempts, he can feel the gasp from Livio when their lips meet and he prays that's a good sign.

Kni’s prayers are blessedly answered by one warm hand wrapping around his waist and another finding its way into the waves of his hair as Livio tilts his head properly into the kiss.

Any time in the past century and a half, if you asked Millions Knives if he had ever thought about kissing someone- if he felt it at all worthy of a response- he would have said no. A useless, human display of fleeting affection and a swapping of spit is absurdly redundant and holds no place in the life he lived, and certainly not in the world he was going to create.

If you asked Kni what he thought about kissing, he would say it's one of the best damn feelings he's had in a long long time. The soft plush of Livio’s lips, slightly chapped and curved up into a never ending soft grin, guide his confused and nearly desperate attempts into a steady motion that Kni melts easily into, the soft sound between each kiss the only sound in the room.

Kni tries to be patient, he really does, wanting to carefully learn and memorize how their lips move together with each kiss just as he had with every chance they had to dance together, but the way Livio’s hand splays across his lower back makes it significantly harder to convince himself to not completely envelope himself in Livio. The weak grip on Livio’s shirt tightens as Kni damn near clings to his chest and he presses into the feeling of Livio’s rising breath, feeling the heat of the hand on his back seeping through his own thin shirt.

If he had it within his power to be embarrassed right now perhaps he would be, but Kni feels the tip of Livio’s tongue brush across the crease of his lips when he presses closer into the warmth and Kni keens from the feeling with a sound too close to a chirrup. Livio chuckles against his mouth despite Kni’s immediate attempt to recoil from himself in embarrassment and Kni damn near hisses when Livio prevents his escape- broad hands moving to wrap around his waist and lifting Kni easily so that he ends up sitting side-saddle across Livio’s lap, broader arms wrapping around his back preventing Kni from retreating.

Livio soothes him with an all too cheeky “c'mere darlin” and Kni’s hands knot in his shirt with the overwhelming need to bite him.

He’s going to combust, the heat on his face is an inferno and Kni damn near claws into Livio’s chest because of the low drawl. He firmly locks away the thought of Livio in his wide brimmed hat and cloak calling him darlin’ for another damn time and instead allows himself to be pulled easily against Livio’s chest with another more confident, eager kiss.

Livio is huge, his chest is massive under Kni’s hands as they splay out across the creases he’s already dug into the fabric and just one of Livio’s own hands damn near covers Kni’s entire lower back. There’s so much he could reach for, and he finds himself truly desperate to hold onto any part of Livio that he can reach, so Kni succumbs and reaches his fingers into Livio’s cropped white hair to hold him in the kiss- pleasantly surprised by how soft the strands are and even more pleased by the soft hum Livio lets out in response. It rumbles through his chest, muffled against Kni’s eager mouth and yet felt throughout Kni’s entire body as he leans into the sound.

Kni responds with a purr of his own from deep in his chest that he knows Livio doesn't understand when the tip of Livio’s tongue brushes against his lips again, pressing into the kiss harder with an accidental clack of teeth. Livio strokes a soothing hand through Kni’s hair and down to the nape of his neck- gentle, guiding hands gliding along his body. If Kni had the voice to quip about the student becoming the teacher with how he keeps fumbling his movements he would, but he loses the thought when he parts questioning lips and is met with the immediate answer of a tongue brushing against his own.

He’s never going to live down a single sound he makes, Kni outright squeaks when he feels the tongue slip past his lips and Livio chuckles sweetly into his mouth again in return. Kni might just succumb to the urge to bite down on his tongue in retaliation, but Livio wraps his arms around Kni’s back and licks into his mouth and properly shuts down any coherent thought Kni might have had left.

It’s an odd sensation, a tongue brushing along his own, but Kni finds himself overwhelmed by the feeling of Livio’s warmth in his mouth and welcomes it easily. He can’t smell anything except for Livio’s skin, his head swims from the comfort of it and Kni seizes the opportunity to find out just what he can taste beyond the whiskey that lingers on their breath, meeting Livio’s tongue with his own in an attempt to flood his senses.

Kni sighs a high sound that almost feigns a song and breathes the taste of him- whiskey steeped with honey, sugars from one of the ever persistent treats filling the house, sweet mint from the garden- Livio is so sweet on his tongue that Kni salivates as he chases the taste.

The shameless sounds of soft whines rise in his throat with only the sound of every wet, needy kiss to cover them and Kni loses himself with a moan when Livio catches his tongue with his lips and sucks.

Livio’s shirt is the only lifeline Kni can find proper purchase on without outright yanking on his hair- and truly he should be grateful that Kni reaches for it because the fabric threatens to tear under his nails, though he can feel the give of skin that will certainly bruise along with it. A string of spit drips onto his chin when Livio tugs on his tongue with Kni’s body following the pull easily, unable to muffle the whimper that creeps up his throat and certainly unable to hide the way a shiver rises through his body. He offers his tongue easily, warmed by Livio’s lips, and Kni trills at the teeth that dig lightly into the muscle.

Even when Livio releases his tongue with a wet little pop it does little more than hang helplessly past Kni’s lips once freed, hanging uselessly as drool smears down his lip. Panting for useless breath does little to soothe his lungs and Kni barely manages to open heavy eyelids before he feels Livio cupping his jaw, thumb wiping through the mess of spit on his chin. There's a brush of a tongue against his own that Kni chases with another trill, and Kni presses himself into the low rumble of Livio’s voice.

“Look at you, darlin’, prettiest lil’ thing I’ve ever seen..”

Kni can’t find any relief in breathing, not when that low drawl between them rolls deeper than a growl and a flush heats up his neck to the tips of his ears. He can feel the itch of small feathers trailing down his neck from the edges of his hairline and longer plumage weaving through his hair as an echo rattles his ribcage, the white of feathers shaping his cheeks blur in his peripheral. His teeth ache as his body wars with keeping composure and Kni presses his forehead to Livio’s in a pathetic attempt to project any of these overwhelming, desperate feelings into Livio’s head- unable to connect their minds no matter the effort but trying his damndest anyway. Just so Livio can understand.

When that continues to not work, another whine slips free of parted, reddened lips and Kni turns to nose at a stubbly cheek, pressing himself against the thrum of heat and heartbeat as his head spins.

Warm fingers drag along his jawline, holding Kni against the returned gesture of a cheek rubbing against his own and rubbing feathers into stubble until he’s guided by a palm to press the bridges of their noses together. His tongue feels far too heavy even as he tries to swallow the taste of Livio’s spit, desperate to keep the taste of him in his mouth, and Livio grants Kni mercy by helping his tongue find its way back into his mouth with the help of his own.

The purr in Kni’s chest rumbles high into his throat when Livio licks into his mouth and Livio embraces his melting body with ease even as Kni grasps for any control of himself and, rewarding the effort to bury shaky hands in silver hair with a moan that Kni engraves in his memory.

Their lips move together with such ease that Kni loses himself in the motions, finding each other between every parting for panted breath and fitting together so easily that Kni loses any doubt in where he should press into the sensation. Livio’s hands reach for him in a winding embrace that Kni tethers himself to before they can part any further, and a song tight in his chest cries out that yes, this is what he wants, he needs, he is safe here.

Kni shows his gratitude by sucking on the tip of Livio’s tongue with a near melodic moan he doesn’t try to hide and gets teeth dragging across his lip in return.

Livio’s teeth aren't anywhere near as sharp as Kni’s, but they are still sharp. The edge of a canine catches on Kni’s lower lip when Livio bites with such a gentle claim and the teeth digging into his lip leaves Kni trembling in his lap. Kni can’t help but gasp into it, keening high as he tightens his fists for purchase in Livio’s hair- Livio does not bite hard enough to draw blood, but it is enough for Kni to feel the pressure of sharp teeth dragging across such sensitive flesh.

Heat flushes through his body as scattered feathers press against the airy linen of his clothing under Livio’s hands, back aching between his shoulder blades in phantom limbs aching to wrap around the heat of their bodies. His body thrums with an unfamiliar fervor that leaves him dizzy even when their bodies press together and Kni only remembers to release his tight grip once Livio releases his teeth- though a part of Kni wishes he wouldn’t, part of him wishes Livio would bite harder.

A soft suck and a not so soft kiss to his bitten lip attempt to soothe the sensitive flesh as Kni drapes his arms around Livio’s shoulders in a melting embrace, a churr vibrating his throat as Livio lifts Kni again with an enviable ease. Even with Kni as boneless as he is, helpless to wherever Livio pulls him, the broad hands that enclose his waist entirely guide him easily up and across the breadth of his lap until Kni manages to- with great effort- assist by swinging a leg across Livio’s lap to straddle him.

Kni settles easily into the stretch of his hips with the sound of Livio’s satisfied hum against his lips, thumbs dragging along the flat plane of Kni’s stomach as hands slide up to encase his ribs. Kni all but arches into the touch, pressing his front to Livio’s belly and trembling under the warmth of Livio’s hands burning through his shirt, wrapping around him until Livio’s arms wind fully around his back. One hand slips under the edge of his shirt as it bunches with the movement, and Kni whines when fingers part through the feathers starting to line his spine.

Swollen, spit shiny lips part ways just enough for Kni to slur out Livio’s name with a sound teetering too close to a sob- it’s the only thing he can say before his voice breaks but it also feels like exactly enough, and Livio drags out one kiss after another like they can't dare keep their lips apart. Shameless as it is, Kni clings to his back in a desperate attempt to not lose the feeling of their bodies aligned, thighs tight around the wide berth of Livio’s hips as he tries to press every inch of himself into Livio until he feels nothing but their bodies together.

Fangs catch on Kni’s lip again and he sings without shame, a bloom of warmth unfurling in his chest as his too sensitive lip catches on the edge. His chest rattles with the sound, shaking and fractured between his attempts at sucking in air, but he sings his want into Livio’s mouth- every terribly fond sound crawling out of his ribs until their mouths can't keep up.

It’s almost unfair that they need to part for air at all, Livio’s panting carrying Kni with every rise and fall of his chest as Kni licks the spit from their lips. They linger together with the ghosting of lips against each other, swallowing each other's breath and Kni slumps into the hands that cradle him. It’s not quite pulling teeth, but it’s a near thing when Kni drags heavy eyes open enough to see Livio underneath him.

If only the memory of alcohol could be to blame for the dizziness in Kni’s head- it would be an easy excuse to grasp for, if there were any purchase to it. But Livio is looking up at Kni with a disheveled blush that reaches all the way to his ears and that endlessly fond, crooked grin that leaves creases at the corners of his eyes and Kni knows he's utterly hopeless.

What must he look like in Livio’s eyes at this very moment? How long has it been since he last felt so exposed? A flush of heat rises high on Kni’s neck that he feels burning like a fever and it spreads the longer Livio watches him with such endearment and strokes along his trembling body. The unfurling in his chest somehow burns hotter than the heat that rises to his ears and Kni curls his shaky body into Livio’s embrace, nose pressing against the dark shadow of Livio’s neck.

He gasps soft, whining breaths of the scent he finds there in the curve of tanned skin just above the collar of Livio’s shirt and Kni hides himself away, feeling arms wind around his back in a firm squeeze that keeps him there. The flare of feathers that frame his face settle as Kni presses the bridge of his nose into the gentle sound of Livio’s breath evening out and he holds tight to the expanse of Livio’s body.

God, what Kni would give to be encompassed by this steady sound- nothing but this blissful dark in hiding against Livio’s neck, hearing blood pumping through each vein he presses against with every strong beat of Livio’s heart, the rise and fall of deep, even breaths as they settle together. It soothes him, in a way he hasn't felt since the quiet of the zero gravity chambers on Ship Five so, so long ago- the constant thrumming of engines and mechanics echoing distantly in a repetitive pulse, feeling weightless and embraced and comforted in the steady silence that cleared his heart, floating outside of himself.

Kni succumbs to the comforting song that hums quietly from his chest as his shaking subsides into a subtle trembling, lips parting against the soft fabric of Livio’s shirt. The soft purring of the sound soothes alongside the memory of floating in the dark expanse of the stars that fogs his head, and with every hum that quietly calls he finds his song calling for Livio even in the dark. Calm, affections thrumming between his ribs, lulled by the heat that surrounds him like he’s basking under a gentler sun, a hiccup of sound escapes him as feathers drag over skin in memory of wings cradling him.

He doesn’t know how long he floats there, enveloped in warmth with the taste of affection on his tongue. It isn’t a kind of exhaustion that calls to sleep, but his limbs are heavy from the comfort he finds in this silence and Kni’s soft whines teeter off into a lull of purrs low in his chest. Temptation beckons him to stay exactly here, and Kni buries himself in the shadow of Livio’s throat until he comes achingly back to his senses with the feeling of a warm hand rubbing along the expanse of his back, hugging his near limp body close and willing him back into his body with the distant sound of a voice.

Vertigo is a strange feeling, albeit not an unfamiliar one, and Kni grumbles a less delicate sound as fingers scratch along the nape of his neck where feathers no longer line his skin. The whispered voice carries over his shoulder, ghosting across his ear and nudging into his cheek until it becomes clearer, like a hand petting hair away from his face to gently wake him.

Livio’s voice carries him out of the dark, and the quiet of the ship settles into the back of his mind again,

“Comin’ back to me yet…?”

Kni responds by rumbling out a huff of breath that betrays itself with something close to a coo, unwinding his sluggish arms from Livio’s neck to tuck between their chests. With his hands pressed above where Livio’s heart resides, Kni can follow the rhythm of its beating as the hand tracing the length of his spine centers him back into his body.

Neither of them can see his hands like this, so the momentary desire to press his fingers into the meat of his chest and find home in Livio’s ribs alongside his heart stays between him and god.

Trying his voice again after swallowing the ache in his vocal chords, Kni manages a more tasteful, coherent groan that has Livio’s chest bouncing with quiet laughter, shaking Kni gently in their embrace.

“There y’are, sweetheart, thought I lost ya there for a minute.”

Kni presses his cheek against Livio’s collarbone with a hum of acknowledgement that carries little volume before succumbing to the attempt to compose himself again, wringing out every muscle in his body as best he can while not yet leaving the comfortable curl of his body against Livio’s. Despite his best efforts to convince himself to do otherwise, Kni lifts his head away from the curve of Livio’s neck and relies on the sturdy arms around his back to keep him properly upright. There aren’t feathers in his peripheral anymore, but the itch of their memory lingers on his scalp.

He’s steadier now, if only marginally, and Kni takes his time with every slow, heavy lidded blink as he adjusts to the low lamp light again.

“..Y’didn't lose me…”

With humour in his hushed voice, Livio brings a hand up to brush his knuckles along Kni’s cheek where there is the faintest crease line from his shirt, “Oh, I didn't?”

Kni concedes easily to the touch with the tilt of his head, “Mm… Maybe a little…”

A thumb grazes over the highest point of his now smooth cheekbone and Kni watches his fingers relax along Livio’s chest, the sway that threatens to tip his body over settling into a gentle rocking. Livio’s thoughtful hum surrounds him as he brushes the black strands of hair from Kni’s forehead aside, carefully preening him so Kni doesn’t have to shake away the hair.

“Hm, got yerself a lil’ too excited then?”

The flush threatens to creep right back onto his face before it’s even fully left his palour and Kni’s hands twitch with the need to hold tight to Livio’s shirt again- he doubts the flush will ever leave his face at this rate, not with the bloom that persists in his chest. But under the soft glow of the lamp between them and a few feathers turning to glittering ash on Livio’s shoulder, Kni’s senses crawl back to him.

Not quickly enough to keep him from letting the honesties out before he can think better of it, but still they crawl. A fang digs lightly into a kiss swollen lip and Kni studies the colour of Livio’s lips.

“Mm… Couldn't help it, I’ve never done.. that before… It felt really good, a lot better than I thought my first time would.”

Livio’s cheeks flush dark in an instant and Kni feels his lips curve up into a grin, a laugh bubbling in his chest at the choked sound Livio makes as his brain smokes out of his ears.

It’s so easy to kiss him like this, it's so easy knowing he wants to do it.

It takes several chaste kisses before Livio manages to slip his voice in, cracking despite his obvious best attempts. “I- uh- didn’t realize that was yer first?” His voice pitches high at the end and it takes effort to not laugh again.

Kni’s hands sprawl out along Livio’s chest, kneading lightly into any of the muscle and fat he can reach under the span of his fingers as he hums. If he drags his fingers just hard enough down his chest to drag the fabric, he can feel the stuttered breath under his hands and expose some of the hair on Livio’s chest. There’s a moment where he thinks perhaps he should be embarrassed about his lack of experience, but Kni has spit still drying on his chin and decides it perfectly acceptable that this be his first.

Fingertips trace the collar of Livio’s shirt, stretched tight around his body, and muses. “I didn’t think it would be something I ever wanted to do.”

There’s a thoughtful, curious look on Livio’s face as he considers that with a soft “huh”, thick arms unwinding from their embrace so Livio can drag his hands down Kni’s ribs to rub along his narrow waist, thumbs kneading into the ticklish muscle on his sides- Kni doesn't notice the way Livio’s hands nearly close completely around his waist when his thumbs brush across his stomach, not at all- and sliding further down to run his thumbs along the sharp points of Kni’s hip bones. A lax, gentle touch with his arms atop Kni’s slender thighs. Comfortable.

“Y’never thought about tryin’ it before?”

Kni’s hands slide up to trace the lines of Livio’s collarbones, following along the muscles framing his neck as his hazy mind drifts. He thinks of fond kisses placed on top of his head as his small limbs were carefully tucked into bed. He thinks of sweet laughter when he voiced disgust at the idea of putting mouths together when ‘that was where food is supposed to go!’. The corner of his lip twitches up.

“I knew what kissing was, but I was a child when I had first been introduced to the idea. It seemed like a gross concept-”

“As most kids do.” Livio nods sagely and Kni brings up a hand to smooth down several disheveled pieces of silvery hair.

“And, it should be pretty obvious why I hadn’t wanted to try it before now.”

A moment passes before it visibly clicks in Livio’s head that it should have been very obvious from the start, and he gives a sheepish smile as an unnecessary apology. Kni only rolls his eyes and leans in to feel his lips brush over Livio’s again, meeting teeth first and turning to bump their noses together.

He speaks softly, like it's a secret. Maybe it is one.

“It feels good, with you…I like that it feels good with you.”

Livio nearly sputters again, letting out a short slew of swears that Kni only hears half of before he’s sitting up again with a slanted grin of his own to watch Livio reel like he’s been winded. He laughs again with airiness in his chest and it earns Kni a pinch to the side- which he yelps from before he can help it, though it is entirely earned- and Livio squeezes Kni’s thighs when he tries to wiggle away from the ticklish feeling.

“It must've felt really good since ya didn't even notice yer brother comin’ in.”

Kni’s face falls instantly into disbelieving horror. A heartbeat passes where he waits patiently for Livio to cackle that he’s joking, but Livio only presses his lips together to fight the already there smile- failing miserably at it- and shrugs with an apologetic pinch to his brow.

The very second Kni realizes Livio is in fact not lying he is scrambling off a once very comfortable lap with the least amount of grace he's ever shown, dutifully ignoring Livio’s bubbling laugh of ‘ya’ll really are brothers, huh’ when he tries to reach out and help steady Kni’s legs. Kni sweeps the room fast enough that his neck probably should have snapped from the motion, only to not see Vash already waiting there and realizing very quickly that Vash must have come in at quite literally any time where Kni was apparently very distracted.

The proverbial bullet is between his teeth awaiting bite force, and no amount of smoothing his hair or clothes has Kni feeling at all prepared for the panicked rush to hopefully find Vash still in the kitchen, and how the hell he’s going to play this off. Livio at least has the decency to sound apologetic.

“Y’were really out of it, I tried wakin’ you up!” God above, if Vash saw him curled up on his friend’s lap, face buried in his neck? if he had heard the sounds Kni had been making?

Livio’s arms don’t leave his legs and Kni makes a pained sound as he rakes his hands through his hair with enough force that he would’ve ripped out feathers if any remained. The mantra of telling himself it will be fine, he can play this off, maybe Vash hadn’t seen anything truly incriminating, repeats in his head- hell, he’d caught Vash in a number of intimate moments! This doesn’t have to be a big deal!

The jarring rush of anxiety breaks through the content peace he had been so comfortable in and Kni leans into the rise of Livio’s body, pressing his head to Livio’s chest hard enough to ache once he towers overhead. Even the shake of his laugh does little to soothe, though Kni still reaches up into the feeling of Livio’s lips against the top of his head, and Livio runs his hands along Kni’s back in a broad stroke over the tension now winding in his shoulders. God he feels small compared to Livio’s size, it’s unfairly comforting being surrounded by his bulk.

Livio’s lips brush over Kni’s ear with a whisper as he holds Kni’s body flush with his own, smile still evident in his voice, “Y’know, It was real nice for me too… Y’felt real good, darlin’, an’ I really like makin’ ya feel good.”

Burning up like a fever, Kni all but shoves Livio into the couch cushions like he’s trying to hide evidence, leaving Livio to scramble from in between cushions with a bright laugh bursting forth. He manages to get caught in the commotion of limbs enough for Livio to pull him in for one more hard kiss before Kni manages to scramble up and stumble his way back upright with all of the dignity he can manage, pointedly ignoring how his heart hammers in his chest. He nearly trips around the arm of the couch as he makes a very controlled, very composed mad dash to the kitchen- stopping before he gets to the doorway to rub furiously at any dried spit left on his face for good measure- and leans himself into the doorway with as much nonchalance as his screaming nerves can manage.

Vash is, thank god, busy on the radio phone while he brushes butter onto a set of twisted rolls. The bullet cracks between his teeth and Kni steps on a creaky floorboard to announce his entry before he can chicken out- he needs to know what Vash saw, if he even saw anything incriminating, Vash wouldn’t keep his mouth shut about this and Kni really doesn’t think he’d survive the embarrassment if Wolfwood finds out about this.

Kni’s heart hammers away hard enough that he thinks a rib might crack.

Once within the doorway to his demise, Vash turns to him with such an innocent smile that, if he didn't know better, Kni would assume everything was fine. It’s a happy grin, a real one that scrunches the corners of his eyes, but there is someone else on the phone and Kni is standing frozen with the last shred of his dignity.

“Oops, sorry Milly!” Kni almost mouths a pathetically desperate threat of don't, but he won’t give himself away yet. “Kni’s finally free, so I’m gonna get his help packing up these batches before you guys get here. Yea- Nick’s comin’ later tonight! Yea- yea, I will. See you soon!”

Kni watches Vash hang up the receiver without any rush, humming idly to whatever song is stuck in his head today as he turns back to the trays lined up along the counter. Even as Kni’s fingers begin to tap silently against his thighs in a nervous rhythm he doesn't ask what Vash might’ve seen, because he's not gonna give the menace more ammunition than he might already have.

“So you-” his voice cracks and Kni wipes his palms on his pants, “So you need my help getting these wrapped up?”

“Yup! Milly’s taking a bunch back to her cousins and siblings to try, and Meryl’s gonna take some for just the two of them. I can’t believe they haven’t tried a soft pretzel before!” Vash tosses a few buttered twists of bread into a bowl and shakes them around in a mix of sugar and cinnamon. “I’m making this last batch for Nick and Livio to take back up to the orphanage whenever he heads back. Oh! How’s Livio’s hand holdin’ up?”

Fuck, he should’ve grabbed the bloodied mess off the table.

Kni moves over to the kitchen table with a practiced fluidity, keeping every movement as smooth as he can as he unfolds one of the pale green boxes Vash had designated for the girls, picked specifically by Meryl because ‘it matched Milly’s coat!’ and who was Vash to deny an aesthetic choice.

“Healed, as expected. We just had to make sure all of the glass was removed.” Kni pulls a cooling rack of salted pretzel rolls over to stack methodically into the first box, willing his hands to move as quickly as a reasonable pace might appear. “I’m sorry about the cup, and the mess.”

“Oh it’s alright, I’m just glad his hand is okay.” Vash sets the freshly sugared rolls onto a rack and the granules sprinkle onto the counter underneath, god it’s going to be a sticky mess to clean up later. “You’ll both be good to finish with the new batch of preserves tomorrow still, yea?”

Kni double counts the amount in each stack before closing the lid, willing his hands to stay steady as he moves it aside and starts on another box. “We should have them done tomorrow, by late afternoon at the latest. Though he may stay later so we can set aside a few extra for him to take into town to trade, I offered to make him more of that apple butter he likes in return for his help.”

“Aw that’s so sweet of you,” Vash smiles over his shoulder and, despite the pacifist he claims to be, pulls the proverbial trigger with the intent to kill, “Aren't you just a darlin’.”

Kni makes the critical mistake of snapping his head to Vash the instant he hears the word, meeting his brother’s eye and giving Vash all the confession he needs with the strangled sound that catches in his throat.

Vash’s grin turns something wicked, snickering like the cat who caught the canary once his facade of nonchalance breaks, and in the second Vash starts to turn with whatever rail of torment and teasing he has prepared Kni does the most mature, composed thing he can- he grabs the discarded whiskey from simpler times earlier this evening and he bolts right out of the kitchen with Vash cackling in his wake.

He’s going to die, Kni is certain of it. This is what finally puts his miserable soul in the grave- Vash walking in on him and his best friend sharing spit on the fucking couch. He’d become a feathery mess on his best friend's lap without a care in the world- oh god, he had sung with a tongue down his throat. He’s never going to live this down.