Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

They are eighteen and a half years old when Nai re-learns an old lesson: that life is full of curveballs.

March comes in deceptively mild the spring of their senior year. Crocuses and snowdrops pop up in abundance. Wolfwood gleefully reclaims Angelina as soon as the ice melts. The sun shines more than it hides away and everyone’s mood improves dramatically with the extra boost of vitamin D.

It’s late evening on the Friday before spring break when the weather starts to turn.

“Everybody’s getting on Gunsmoke tonight,” Vash announces from his seat at the breakfast bar, mouth full of cereal. “Wanna join?”

Nai smirks. “Oh, am I allowed to play again?”

Vash pouts and points firmly at him with his spoon. “If you behave yourself, yeah.”

Gunsmoke is a popular multiplayer sandbox game. Set in a futuristic alien world based on the Wild West, players can team up to do everything from terraforming and farming hostile deserts to fighting giant insect monsters to robbing trains. The character avatars are incredibly customizable and the NPC’s have interesting backstories and quests for players to complete. Playing games isn’t Nai’s favorite pastime, but even he has to admit that it’s entertaining (and not just for the Western theme, though that’s a nice bonus). The very first time Vash and his friends logged on, Vash accidentally spooked a herd of green alien emus and got trampled to death. It had cemented everyone’s delight with the gameplay and inspired his avatar’s name—Stampede.

Nai doesn’t play with them every time, but when he does, Vash spends a lot of time scampering around trying to keep him from doing fun things like robbing trains and barbequing the green alien emus and sending whole CG towns up in smoke. Even in a pretend world, Vash is lawful good and Nai is probably a bad person for trying to blow up a virtual orphanage just to push his buttons. (Nai had been laughing so hard at Vash’s disbelieving shriek of “We were orphans, you shithead!” that he had lost the resulting firefight.)

“Why isn’t Wolfwood in trouble for last time but I am?” Nai demands, putting away the milk that his brother has once again left out on the counter. Maybe yelling that he would give Wolfwood a sandwich if he switched sides in the middle of a melee had been a dirty move, but it had certainly produced results—like winning the battle while Vash and Wolfwood rolled around the living room floor screaming at each other.

“Nick already suffered the consequences of betrayal. You locked yourself in your room like a coward.”

“Discretion is the better part of valor. I’ve seen what Meryl can do when she’s angry.” Nai collects some leftover vegetables and chicken for a lazy stirfry and closes the fridge with his elbow. “Do you want real food, or are you good with the sugar-coated cardboard flakes?”

Vash makes a noncommittal noise and crunches into another spoonful.

“Fine, but don’t tell Rem I didn’t try to feed you while she was gone.”

Rem has been away for most of the week. She’d become more receptive to the incessant requests from SEEDS for short business trips once the twins had their drivers’ licenses, and it’s normal now for her to be gone for a few days every couple of weeks. Nai suspects she still doesn’t like leaving them alone, but she does trust that they’re fully capable young adults who can feed themselves, go to bed on time, drive each other to the hospital in case of an emergency (cough, Vash, cough) and not burn the house down. This time she left for the airport Monday morning as the boys were leaving for school, kissing them both goodbye with reminders to take out the trash and wrangle up the growing number of NERF darts lurking in strange places all over the house. Pending any last-minute project delays or flight cancellations, she’ll be home tomorrow morning.

“I’m kinda hoping Nick will come over here to play and we can order pizza or something, but he hasn’t answered me yet.”

Nai snorts softly, sweeping slivered carrots into the wok. Vash is too selfless to be anything but happy that his best friend was finally able to splurge on a game system of his own, but he can tell his brother misses the excuse to have Wolfwood over all the time. Not that he isn’t over almost every weekend regardless, but still.

On opposite sides of the kitchen, their phones suddenly chime in tandem, but it’s not the group chat notification sound. Nai raises an eyebrow in question as Vash swipes his open to check.

“Oh. We’re under a severe thunderstorm watch,” Vash tells him. “Now ‘til eleven.” He glances outside into the gloom of a dusk being quickly swallowed up by the approaching clouds. “Think I should pull the wreath off the door?”

Rem had been so happy to bid winter goodbye that when she hung the wreath of silk daffodils on the front door, she had flung the woven spruce boughs it replaced into the garage like a discus.

Nai nods, giving his veggies a toss. “She’ll be disappointed if it blows into the next county.”

Vash scarfs down what’s left of his cereal and pops out to bring the wreath in. He leaves it safely on the little table in the foyer where Kuro will probably find it, sleep in it, and cover it with cat hair. Nai tracks down an unopened pair of chopsticks (pulling a stray NERF dart out of the odds-and-ends drawer as he does) and plates his stir fry.

“I’ll get everything set up so we can play,” Vash volunteers. They don’t need another session where someone’s controller dies in the middle because they didn’t check the charges beforehand. “See if Legato’s in?”

Mouth full of chicken and rice, Nai sends an affirmative through their bond instead. Vash disappears into the living room. Outside, the wind jangles the chimes hanging from a neighbor’s porch. Just another Friday night in Suburbia.

- // - // - //  - // -

Wolfwood never does reply to Vash’s text. And he doesn’t log in when the group materializes in-game at the last save point.

“Are you sure he said he’d be on?” Meryl asks over her headset after they’ve been waiting ten minutes. “He didn’t have to work tonight?”

“No, I asked him before we left school and he said he was in,” Vash confirms. He’s more fidgety than usual and keeps checking his phone. “I wonder what’s keeping him? Even if his phone died, he could still join the game.”

“Maybe he fell asleep,” Milly offers. “He’s been looking pretty worn out lately.”

Concern is starting to seep across their bond. It makes Nai consciously pull his own influence back a bit. Vash is protective of his friends. That’s very sweet and all, but Milly has probably hit the nail on the head. Odds are there’s nothing for Vash to worry about, so Nai will keep his own emotions out of the worry-puddle. “Let’s just get started,” he suggests. “He’ll message someone if he comes in late and we need to regroup.”

They dive in and attempt the agreed-upon side quest of the week: rescuing a supply caravan off course and in peril in the seas of sand. It should be an easy mission. With their experience levels and the moves and weapons they’ve all cultivated in the many months they’ve been playing together, game-generated bandits and monsters (not to mention PVP with strangers) are usually no problem for their little team. Unfortunately, what the poor little supply caravan has stumbled over isn’t bandits, but the biggest monster Gunsmoke has to offer. With Wolfwood missing in action and Legato held hostage at a family dinner, there’s not much chance the four of them can take down a marauding Leviathan Worm on their own.

“Do you want to call it?” Meryl suggests after they’ve become worm chow twice. “I don’t think this is going to happen without the Punisher, at least.” Wolfwood’s avatar is, of course, modeled on a cowboy priest with a giant cross-shaped machine gun. Blasphemous though it may be, that cross is a hefty chunk of long-range firepower—one made even more formidable by the skill Wolfwood wields it with.

“Yeah, why don’t we. It’s not as much fun without Nick anyway.” Vash looks disappointed, but more than that, he still looks worried.

Milly’s voice chimes in, cutely sheepish. “I guess I really should be doing the laundry anyway. My mom’s going to be pretty mad if I don’t get it done this weekend.” The girl is sweet as sugar, but her time management skills are severely lacking. She’s been in detention more times than Nai can even remember for missing the bus and coming in late to class. (She and Wolfwood had firmly bonded as the detention duo of their fab foursome, even if they were both there for very different reasons.)

“Milly, really?” Meryl groans. “Again? You do want to be able to hang out next week instead of just punishment-cleaning the office, right?”

“I do, I do!” Milly squeaks. “Better get to it. See you guys later!”

They all say their goodbyes and log out. A roll of thunder rattles the windowpanes as Nai turns the system off. “Well, since game night is apparently a wash, I’m going to read for a while. Unless you want to watch a movie instead?”

Vash doesn’t answer. He’s biting his lip distractedly, looking out the window at the now-inky expanse of sky. No raindrops on the glass yet, but the rising wind hisses a warning. He checks his phone for the umpteenth time, looks conflicted, and then jabs his thumb over the ‘call’ button before he can think better of it. It doesn’t go straight to voicemail, but Wolfwood doesn’t pick up, either.

Nai takes a deep breath and tries to project some forced tranquility. He puts a steadying hand on Vash’s shoulder. “Hey. Is there a reason you’re winding yourself up, or do I need to shoot some of those melatonin gummies down your throat?”

Vash sighs, slumping a little under the touch as he ends the call without leaving a message. “Sorry. I dunno, Nai, I just… Something doesn’t feel right. Nick’s never canceled on me without at least texting first. Radio silence from him is weird.”

“I thought being the worrywart was my job.” Nai spares a small smile. “He’s been working a lot of hours recently, right? He was probably up too late last night and now he’s face down in his own drool, snoring.” He ruffles his brother’s hair. “Wolfwood is a big boy. Even if something was going on, he can take care of himself.”

Vash looks up at him with pleading puppy eyes. “Yeah?”

“Yes,” Nai says with utmost confidence. “Definitely. Nothing to worry about.”

A loud, hollow bang outside makes them both jump—the mostly-empty trash bin falling against the side of the house as the frontline gust sweeps through. The first storm of the season arrives full force. Wordlessly, Nai goes to the utility closet and pulls out the emergency flashlight, just in case.

- // - // - // - // -

When the doorbell rings, it’s almost drowned out by a loud boom of thunder directly overhead. Stretched lazily across his bed, Nai tenses in surprise at the sound.

“I’ll get it!” Vash yells, already out of his room and halfway down the hall. How someone as gangly as Vash can sound like an entire stampede of bison going down the stairs, Nai will never understand.

Nai half closes the horror manga he’s reading (one from a stack of them he borrowed from Legato) and focuses. It’s pitch-black outside, icy rain whipping at the windows as flashes of lightning illuminate the bare, swaying shapes of the trees. Who in their right mind would be at their house now? His first wild thought is that Rem is somehow home early, but she would never ring the bell. Did Vash order pizza after all and forget to tell him?

He knows the instant his brother opens the door, if only because of the jolt of cold shock and fear that follows when Vash sees whatever is on the other side of it.

Nai sits bolt upright like he’s been defibrillated. He’s kept on firmly tuning out the low-key worry and vague unease still rippling like an undertow through their twin connection, but the sudden electric stab of BAD WRONG SCARED HELP NAI! is impossible to ignore—not that he would ever. He’s throwing open his door and sprinting down the hall in seconds. Down the hall, almost falling down the stairs, whipping around the banister and nearly tripping over Kuro as the cat races for cover, his only thought is to get between his little brother and whatever is threatening him. If someone has hurt Vash, if they’ve dared to even try, he’s going to fucking murder them where they stand—

Socks sliding on the hardwood with his momentum, he skids around the corner into the foyer and nearly slams into Vash, who is thankfully still whole and unharmed. Nai freezes behind him, trying to determine what the hell is happening.

Wolfwood is standing in the open doorway, storm raging behind him. He’s soaked with rain and filthy, dripping water making a spreading puddle at his feet. It takes Nai a moment to process, with dawning horror, that it’s blood the other boy is covered with, oozing from his hairline down one side of his face and caked around his nose and mouth. He’s shaking, fists clenched at his sides, eyes wild in the dim light of the foyer as he stares back at the twins, and he looks like a panel from the stupid horror manga Nai threw aside on his mad dash down here. What the hell’s happened to him? Did he wreck his bike trying to ride through the storm like a lunatic?

Nai starts to take a step forward, opens his mouth to demand an explanation, when Vash wordlessly cuts him off.

Wait wait wait, Nai, don’t move, Vash thinks at him frantically without taking his eyes off of Wolfwood. He’s scared, he’s so scared, I have to get him inside, we have to help him Nai— Slowly, slowly he extends the hand already reaching for his friend.

Wolfwood startles at the movement. He jerks back with a gasp that morphs into a stifled sob, expression turning panicked as if reality is just now starting to seep in. He shifts tensely, looking one step from ducking back out into the rain.

“It’s okay,” Vash soothes, as if he’s speaking to a frightened animal about to bolt. One hand finally makes contact with his friend’s arm, fingers gently tightening in the soaked fabric of his sleeve.

Wolfwood glances away, gulping an unsteady breath, but doesn’t pull free.

“It’s okay, Nick.” Vash’s other hand sneakily joins the effort, curling softly around Wolfwood’s other arm. “It’s okay. It’s safe here.” As he talks, he moves backwards, little by little, drawing Wolfwood slowly out of the doorway and into the house.

Nai sidles carefully around them to close the door before Wolfwood gets any funny ideas and tries to make a break for it. He leans out to grab the doorknob and pauses. Wolfwood’s motorcycle helmet is upside down on the concrete next to the welcome mat. Nai grabs it, getting one sock wet in the process, then looks out to where the front walk meets the driveway. In the rain-washed glow of the streetlights, he sees Angelina parked crookedly next to their car. The bike appears to be fine, no damage whatsoever—though how Wolfwood ever rode it through this wind and rain without crashing has to count for some kind of minor miracle. Nai steps back inside the house, locks the door firmly behind him, and dips a hand into the bowl of the helmet to poke at the black foam padding. His fingers come back red and tacky. Whatever happened to Wolfwood, it happened before he put the helmet on.

Nai’s brows furrow, anxiety twisting a little tighter in his gut as he sets the helmet on the foyer table in the middle of Rem’s daffodil wreath. Bathroom, he thinks very pointedly at his brother, and gets a little flutter of acknowledgement back. We’ll take care of him.

Wolfwood is still moving like a sleepwalker, slow and unsteady. Now that he’s inside the house, it’s easy for Vash to guide him to the downstairs bathroom. By the time Nai has grabbed the first aid kit from upstairs, his brother has their unexpected guest parked next to the sink. Vash is still talking, barely more than a gentle murmur that Nai doesn’t think Wolfwood even processes as he stares blankly at the awful floral wallpaper. He looks even worse in the bright light over the vanity and doesn’t even react when Vash starts delicately dabbing at the blood on his face with a damp hand towel.

Nai chances actual words as he flips open the first aid kit’s gaudy yellow plastic case. “Can we get his jacket and shirt off?” he asks, trying to match Vash’s low, placid volume and not do anything to jar Wolfwood out of complacency. “We need to get him into something dry.”

Vash nods imperceptibly and sets the bloody towel aside.

As slowly and nonthreateningly as possible, they maneuver to either side of the injured boy and cajole the soaked jacket down his arms. Nai doesn’t miss the wince and hitch of breath as Wolfwood shifts. Frowning, he tosses the heavy fabric over the shower curtain rod to drip. When he turns back, Vash is unbuttoning Wolfwood’s equally wet shirt, as gently and matter-of-factly as possible. (His cheeks are still dusted with pink. It’s a damn shame circumstances don’t even allow Nai to tease his baby brother about that.)

The little ghost of a smile that was trying to settle on Nai’s face vanishes instantly as Vash starts to slide the unbuttoned shirt off his friend and sucks in a little gasp of shock. Nai bites his tongue to hold back a curse as more bare skin comes into view. A line of angry purple bruising runs across the left half of Wolfwood’s ribs, longer than Vash’s hand when he reaches up helplessly but stops himself from touching.

Hematoma, Nai supplies, brain zipping back through files from the first aid course he took two summers ago (the better to handle any accident-magnet little brother emergencies that might arise). He hit something hard. Or something hit him. The shallow, hitched breathing makes sense now—are they dealing with broken ribs under the bruising? He looks at Wolfwood then, trying to make eye contact with the still-blank stare. “Hey. Talk to us. What happened here?”

He might as well be invisible for all the response he gets.

“Okay. Okay,” Vash breathes, clearly trying to keep himself together. “Let’s just get you cleaned up, okay, Nick? Get a band aid on that cut so it stops bleeding? Being all sticky can’t be comfortable, huh?” He eases the shirt the rest of the way off.

Wolfwood’s right hand twitches as the fabric is pulled over it and Nai takes a closer look. The knuckles are busted; pointer, middle, and ring fingers slightly purple-blue and obviously swollen. Dislocated, fractured, or flat out broken? Wolfwood punches with his right.

This was no accident. Someone, or multiple someones, beat the hell out of him and he’d clearly tried his best to fight back.

Nai can feel the anger swelling up inside himself and does the equivalent of shutting the emotional door between him and Vash. Anger won’t help anyone in this room right now, least of all his sensitive and empathetic twin, who is doing so, so well keeping himself together. Right now their only focus should be getting Wolfwood stable and calm.

Get him as clean as you can, Nai thinks to his brother, digging gauze and medical tape, tongue depressors and antibiotic ointment out of the first aid kit. I’m going to splint his fingers. They might be broken.

A desperate little whimper escapes Vash, but it’s almost immediately stifled. He wets the towel again (they’ll need more peroxide than they have in the house to get the bloodstains out) and goes back to gently wiping the blood off Wolfwood’s face. And neck. And upper chest.

Head wounds bleed a stupid amount, Nai rationalizes. He’s not sure at this point that it’s only his little brother he’s trying to reassure. It’s probably not as bad as it looks. He’s fairly sure that Wolfwood is non-verbal right now because he’s in shock and not because he’s concussed or brain damaged. Mostly sure.

It takes a few minutes, but he manages to clean up their friend’s bloody knuckles and wrangle his hand into some semblance of a proper splint job. It has to hurt, but despite the occasional wince, Wolfwood just stands there, swaying occasionally on his feet, eyes half closed as they steadily work at turning him back into a human being and not an extra from a zombie B-movie. By the time Nai presses the last piece of medical tape down as firmly as he dares and looks up, Vash has managed to get most of the blood off. The gash at Wolfwood’s hairline is still oozing sluggishly, and his split lip will almost certainly open back up once he starts talking again, and there’s still a bit crusted around his nose that Vash was obviously too afraid of hurting to rub very hard at, but it’s a definite improvement. A small pile of wet towels has accumulated at their feet, more red now than cheerful yellow.

The downside to the removal of the mess is that they can now see exactly what they’re dealing with in terms of actual damage. Wolfwood’s eye beneath the cut is swollen. His right cheekbone blooms with a bruise. Even his neck is ringed with bruising. Nai spares a moment to wonder what became of the other party involved in this brawl. He’d bet good money that if it was a fair fight, whoever it was looks even worse. As docile and playful as Wolfwood is with Vash and their friends, he’s been forced to defend himself his whole life, and his reputation as a vicious fighter is in no way undeserved.

Nai gently lays a hand on his twin’s shoulder. See if he’ll let you disinfect that cut and get something on it. I’m going to get him some dry clothes.

It can’t have been more than fifteen minutes since he raced out of his room and into an emergency situation, but it feels much longer. Nai climbs the stairs again with less urgency. He goes to his own room first and digs out a pair of socks, some sweatpants, and a soft t-shirt—Wolfwood’s body type is closer to his own. He goes to his brother’s room next, digs through messy drawers until he finds the one black hoodie Vash owns. It’s much too big on him, like all of his hoodies (because he likes to be “cozy”) and there’s an outline of a cat’s face on the back. He thinks Wolfwood might appreciate both the color and a little coziness once he regains the wherewithal to recognize it.

When Nai returns to the bathroom downstairs, Wolfwood is parked on the toilet seat lid and Vash is putting the finishing touches on the neat patch of gauze over that cut. He actually makes a noise of acknowledgement when Nai presses the clothing into his hands and tells him to change out of his soaked jeans, which is good, but he’s also started to tremble faintly, which is obviously not so good. They step out of the bathroom to give him some privacy, but the door stays open in case he needs help.

“Do you think he needs to go to the hospital?” Vash whispers, barely audible in the quiet hall.

“Yes. But I don’t think we could get him there without a fight. And more stress is the last thing he needs right now.”

Vash nods, a jerky little motion, as if he doesn’t like Nai’s answer but knows he’s right. “Maybe we can get him to sleep, talk to him in the morning and try to convince him then?”

“Probably our best option. We can wait until Rem gets home—if we can’t convince him, she might.” Nai thinks suddenly of the nearly empty bottle of pills at the back of the medicine cabinet, out of sight and mind since he’d recovered from having two wisdom teeth out almost a year ago. “I’ll give him what’s left of the Vicodin. Hopefully that will help knock him out.”

Vash has the nerve to giggle, though it’s a fragile, reedy thing. “Oh my god, I almost forgot about that. Remember how out of it you were?”

“No I do not,” Nai scowls, playing along to take his brother’s mind off their current reality, if only for a moment. “But I don’t have to remember it, because my dearest sibling filmed the whole thing.” He has absolutely no memory of yelling about how plants have feelings too and crying until Rem agreed to go through the drive-thru at Dairy Queen, but he’s seen the damning footage several times. At least Vash stopped recording before Nai dropped his Blizzard and threw up in the floorboard.

Wolfwood shuffles slowly out of the bathroom, dressed in the warm, dry clothes and looking considerably more alert. He still says nothing as they lead him to the kitchen, flanking him on either side in case he stumbles.

Nai digs the pills out of the cabinet over the sink. “Take these,” he instructs, pressing two of them into Wolfwood’s uninjured hand. “That should make you feel less like you’ve been used as a football by a team of carthorses.”

Vash fills a glass with water from the refrigerator door and gives it to his friend, free hand lingering on Wolfwood’s shoulder. “Drink all of this if you can, okay? It’ll help.”

Wolfwood takes the painkillers without question or protest, but it looks like swallowing hurts—he all but chokes them down. With that bruising around his neck, it’s really no wonder.

Vash catches Nai’s eye over Wolfwood’s head as he slowly drinks the water. I’m going to get things ready in my room. Please stay right with him, okay? He freaked out a little bit while you were upstairs and almost fell in the bathtub.

Wolfwood looks calm enough right now, so Nai gives the go-ahead. Vash bounds away up the stairs like a clumsier-than-average gazelle and Nai turns all his attention to watching Wolfwood for any signs of imminent freak out. For a minute he seems alright, sipping the last of the water. Just as Nai is about to offer a refill, though, something changes. Wolfwood’s eyes widen and his breath comes quicker. The water glass comes down hard enough on the countertop to make Nai cringe, half expecting it to shatter, and then Wolfwood is staring at his own hands like he’s just discovered they’re attached to his wrists. He’s trembling again.

Nai steps closer and gets a hand on the other boy’s shoulder, steadying him as the shivers get worse. He meets Wolfwood’s bleary gaze and raises a brow in question. No answer comes; just Wolfwood looking at him like he’s imploring Nai to have mercy, and at this point Nai doesn’t know what else they can do for him. Except… of course. That.

With a sigh and a click of his tongue, Nai goes to the sink and slides the window behind it open just a crack. “One cigarette. Ash down the garbage disposal.” He points firmly down the hole, in case the other’s addled brain can’t process what he means. “This doesn’t happen again.” He would never have thought in a million years he would be inviting someone to light up inside their house, but drastic times call for drastic measures.

Wolfwood fumbles around inside the hoodie pocket and emerges with a slightly bent cigarette. He must have had a pack in one of his pockets (most of them are probably ruined by now with how absolutely soaked through with rain he’d been) and managed to rescue one when he changed clothes. He casts around for a moment, looking lost—or looking for a lighter he doesn’t seem to have.

Nai huffs. He’s sure not going to leave Wolfwood alone to go back in the bathroom and search a pile of wet clothes for the lighter, so he points to their gas stove. That should do in a pinch.

Except Wolfwood just stares at it like he’s never seen a stove before. “How…?”

Nai nearly winces—the first word Wolfwood has spoken since Vash coaxed him in out of the storm sounds like he’s been gargling gravel. Beckoning him over, Nai turns one of the dials for him. A flame clicks to life on the foremost burner. Luckily, Wolfwood is able to get the cigarette lit left-handed. Even though it must hurt his throat even worse than the water had, he savors a shallow pull from it, visibly calming, and Nai feels better about deciding to let him smoke. A shaky exhale and the cold, rain-scented breeze pulls the smoke out the window.

The cigarette isn’t even half gone when Vash tugs at his end of their connection. Okay, ready.

At the thumping footfalls on the stairs, Wolfwood exhales one more time and puts the cigarette out in the wet bottom of the sink. Before Nai can offer to trash it for him, Vash is there and the damp cigarette disappears into Wolfwood’s pocket. (Nai makes a face and a mental note to find it before those clothes go in the wash.)

“Baaack,” Vash sing-songs softly, voice and smile gentle as he rejoins them, dressed for bed in a clean t-shirt and his favorite donut patterned pajama pants. “Come with me, Nick?”

As Vash coaxes his friend along once more, Nai slides the window shut and follows. Now they just have to manage getting Wolfwood up the stairs. He’s having a hard enough time walking on level ground and, while they could probably manhandle him up in a pinch, Nai doesn’t want to chance it without knowing for sure what condition his ribs are in. Thankfully Wolfwood is able to climb the stairs under his own power, though it’s obviously a real challenge. Nai stays behind him as a spotter, bracing once or twice when he sees the legs in front of him start to tremble, but Wolfwood stays up, following Vash and his steady stream of praise and promises of rest.

Finally, finally they make it to Vash’s room. The door is open invitingly, but for some reason Wolfwood balks, wavering back until he thumps against Nai’s chest. Nai gives him a gentle but firm nudge forward. 

“Sleepover time,” Vash says with forced cheer, taking his friend’s hand again until Wolfwood finally concedes to follow him into the room. It’s dark and inviting inside, the old outer space nightlight on the desk casting a pale blue glow that’s just enough to navigate to the bed by. “Let’s get some rest, huh, Nick? You’ll feel so much better in the morning.”

Nai very much hopes that’s the case.

Vash has piled his bed with what looks like every spare pillow and blanket the family owns. Wolfwood manages to climb awkwardly into the makeshift nest, then all but collapses face first into a pillow with a muffled grunt of pain. Vash hurries to situate more pillows around him, propping him in a position that won’t put pressure on his bad side, before crawling into bed himself and curling around Wolfwood very, very carefully.

“Oh, Nick, you’re so cold,” he mutters softly, nuzzling into his friend as closely as possible.

Wolfwood, exhausted eyes closed, already seems dead to the world.

Nai silently pulls the blankets up to their shoulders. I’m going back down to clean up. Call if you need anything. His little brother’s gratitude (projected purposefully) and lingering sadness (projected instinctively) follow him downstairs.

- // - // - // - // -

Nai is grateful for something to occupy his hands and his brain as he tidies the bathroom and repacks the first aid kit. The bloody towels go into the washing machine on a cold cycle with all the peroxide left in the bottle. All he can do is hope for the best, but he accepts the fact that they probably owe Rem new towels. He picks up Wolfwood’s wet clothes and combs the pockets. He finds Wolfwood’s wallet, but does not find his lighter. Or his sunglasses. Or his phone. That doesn’t bode well at all, but nothing about this damn night has been ideal. He’ll wash the clothes when the towels are done. At least the dark fabric won’t have stained.

What’s left of a soggy pack of cigarettes is lying on the bathroom sink and Nai lays them out one by one to (hopefully) dry. Wolfwood will undoubtedly want them in the morning if they’re not completely ruined.

Once the bathroom is put to rights, there’s nothing left for Nai to do but mop up the puddle in the foyer and pace. The thunder and lightning have mostly blown themselves out, but the rain is still coming down. It’s barely past ten. He knows he won’t be able to sleep this early, if at all. Not after an adrenaline rush like that. He also knows that Vash isn’t asleep, but his brother will absolutely lie awake there all night if being a living hot water bottle and comfort object will help Wolfwood in any way.

Now that triage has been done, the fact that Nai can’t do anything else until morning at the earliest is maddening. Sue him, he has control issues—been there, acknowledged that, bought the t-shirt. Lack of action when something isn’t right makes him want to twitch out of his skin, grind his teeth against the urge to do more, to fix whatever is wrong, even though there’s nothing more that can be done.

For a moment he thinks about calling Rem and briefing her on the situation so she doesn’t walk into this tomorrow morning completely unprepared. But knowing would only make her worry when there’s nothing that she can do either until she’s back with them in person. Nai will leave her in blissful ignorance for a few more hours. At least this way she might catch an hour or two of peaceful sleep between connecting flights.

Thinking of Rem makes him wander to the kitchen. She used to give the twins hot milk with honey late at night when they were upset and couldn’t sleep, back in the early days when they were just settling in with her and Nai still wasn’t entirely convinced that she wouldn’t get fed up, decide she’d made a mistake, and return them. It hits him then, as he’s staring blankly into the pantry wondering if he should make some of her lavender chamomile tea or just bite the bullet and brew some coffee instead, why the subdued undercurrent of emotion that’s been rolling off of Vash for an hour feels so familiar.

It’s been so many years since he’s experienced it that Nai had almost forgotten. It’s the hollow feeling of trying his hardest to offer comfort, but being helpless to make any real difference. He remembers being where Vash is now—wrapped around his little brother, pretending to be a capable and confident protector when, in reality, he was just as powerless and scared. It was an unpleasant fact of life in the years between losing their birth parents and Rem taking them in. As it rears its head now, the long-buried feeling brings back a host of unwelcome memories.

Something else occurs to him, then. Something that should have caught his attention long before now.

Vash hasn’t cried this whole time. Vash, who cries at animated movies, weddings, cute children and animals, sad songs, happy songs, delicious food, et cetera et cetera. By rights, the little crybaby should have been blubbering within seconds of laying eyes on his best friend, bloody and bruised and in full-blown system shock on their doorstep, but he hasn’t. Not a single tear. He’s been being strong for Wolfwood, like Nai used to be for him.

Nai puts on some coffee. Very, very strong coffee—the dark roast Rem only drinks when there’s a looming deadline and an all-nighter in the future. While it brews, he can’t help but go quietly back up the stairs. He knows that all is as well as it can be, that Vash would have reached out to him if necessary, but he just wants to make sure.

Vash’s door is still ajar and Nai peeks in.

Wolfwood is out cold (thank you, adrenaline crash and Vicodin), barely visible under the blankets and the protective position Vash has assumed around him. There’s a deeper splotch of black curled on top of the blanket where the small of Wolfwood’s back must be, and it takes a few seconds for Nai to realize that it’s Kuro. Though Nai hasn’t made a sound, Vash opens his eyes. They almost glow in the pale blue light. 

Everything’s cleaned up, Nai tells him, as if that’s what is even remotely important right now. The towels are in the wash. I’ll do his clothes next.

Thanks, Nai. His brother’s mental response is muzzy, like his brain and heart are tired even if his body might not be yet.

Nai drifts in, careful to avoid the various shoes and NERF guns and everything else that makes up the detritus of Vash’s room. How are you holding up?

… I hate this. Vash knows there’s no point in lying; not to his twin. Nick’s hurting and I can’t do anything to help him. I really, really hate this.

I’m afraid that’s what happens when you insist on dragging stray people into our inner circle and caring about them. The scolding is backed up by a bottomless well of aggravated fondness. Nai stops beside the bed and drops a comforting hand on his little brother’s head. You’ve already done exactly what he needed you to do. Good job, Vash.

Oh god, please don’t pet me! Vash’s eyes squeeze shut desperately. I really will cry! I’ll wake Nick up!

Though he doubts an earthquake could rouse Wolfwood right now, Nai heeds the request. Go to sleep. We’ll get him to a doctor and sort things out in the morning. Goodnight.

Night, Nai. The warm, chest-squeeze-y surge of love and gratitude is almost like getting a hug. Vash relaxes, forehead gently pressing against Wolfwood’s, their hair mingling and noses almost touching. It would be rather sickeningly cute under better circumstances.

It’s harder than it should be for Nai to walk out, pull the door almost-but-not-quite closed behind him in case the cat wants out before morning. Any other time his twin has been in so much distress, Nai wouldn’t leave his side for anything. His older brother instincts are telling him not to do so now, but he figures this is an extenuating circumstance. Three mostly-grown men might fit on a full-sized bed if they really tried, but that would require a lot of shifting around that would definitely disturb the injured party. Vash will be fine with Wolfwood for physical comfort. Wolfwood will probably benefit from waking up with Vash so near to ease what will undoubtedly be an unpleasant morning. That just leaves Nai completely at loose ends.

He wanders back into his own bedroom. Clearly, he’s going to need something to keep his brain occupied for the next several hours. (Like until dawn, maybe.) Finishing the horror manga is immediately dismissed. He’s officially seen enough blood for today, on or off paper. Looking at it does give him an idea, however, and he collects his phone from where it’s been charging on his desk. It’s Friday night and not even that late—surely Legato is still awake.

As luck would have it, there’s already a text waiting, and a fairly recent one at that. //Sorry I couldn’t make game night. Hope you all had fun.//

Nai taps out a response as he heads back downstairs as quietly as possible. //Congratulations on surviving another pointless interaction with your family. And no worries, game night didn’t happen. There was a bit of an Incident.//

//Oh? Everything okay?//

//That remains to be seen.// The coffee is done brewing when Nai gets back to the kitchen. He fills the mug that says ‘The Better Twin’ on the side. (They had two identical ones before Vash dropped and broke the other.) If he cuts it with some of Vash’s sickeningly sweet vanilla creamer, no one can prove anything. //I’ll fill you in later.// He doubts Wolfwood will want anyone in their circle getting wind of what’s happened, at least right now. //In the meantime, are you free for a while?//

//I can be.// Not a surprise; Legato seems to spend most of his free time avoiding his parents.

//Up for razing a bank or three? Just you and me. What Vash doesn’t know won’t get me shunned from the party.// The beautiful thing about Gunsmoke is the absolute lack of rules the game imposes on the players. Robbery is as valid a means of collecting currency as running errands and completing side quests for NPCs, and Nai could use some more funds for his terraforming project. (If he’s going to get anywhere with it, the bio-power supply grid needs an overhaul.)

//But of course. See you in 5?//

Nai is already on his way to the living room to boot everything back up and turn his anxiety-brain firmly off, for at least a little while. //What would I do without you, Bluesummers. See you in five.//

Chapter Text

It’s early morning when Nai wakes, stretched across the sofa with a crick in his neck and Kuro sitting on his chest, gently poking at his face with one paw. He shoos the cat back, scrubbing at his eyes and wondering what time it is. He knows it was well past four when he’d finally crashed. He probably owes Legato for keeping him company all night.

Nai yawns and a little black paw shoots forward and curls inside his bottom lip. He sits up with a start, flailing and sputtering indignantly as the cat scampers away down the couch. “Augh! Keep your litterbox toes to yourself, animal!”

The downside to usually being the first in the family to wake up is that Kuro now associates him with breakfast, even on those rare occasions when he would really appreciate being able to sleep in a little. Grumbling, Nai shoves off the throw blanket he’s been camped out with and shuffles upstairs to brush his teeth.

Outside is dreary and overcast. The birds that have migrated back and started to sing again during the mornings sound subdued with the damp cold. As he walks past his brother’s room, Nai reaches out as gently as he can. He knows Vash dozed in fits and starts all night, too anxious and heartsick to sleep soundly, but at least he’d managed to catch little bits of rest where he could. This time Vash is definitely awake and nudges gently back against his query, but since he’s made no move to come out, Nai knows that Wolfwood is still asleep. Vash won’t budge from his best friend’s side until Wolfwood is ready to leave the bed on his own.

Once his mouth is as disinfected as possible, Nai heads back downstairs to feed the little demon and see what he can make for breakfast that Wolfwood might actually be able to eat. 

He’s halfway through a cup of coffee that probably isn’t doing him any favors in the relaxing department when he hears the bathroom door shut upstairs. A few minutes later, after what sounds like a slow and painful descent, Vash and Wolfwood finally appear.

Nai’s eyes narrow on Wolfwood’s still-unsteady gait as Vash leads him across the kitchen to the breakfast bar. He slumps onto the raised chair and blinks sluggishly at Nai over the counter. His face is even more swollen and bruised this morning, though it does look like he’s managed to get off the last of the blood lingering around his nose. Nai can’t see his injured hand under the bar, but it’s probably in a similar state. The sooner a real doctor can splint it properly, the better.

Even more concerning than all that, though, is how passive and removed from it all Wolfwood still seems. They’ve seen him fresh from a fight before—not often, granted, and never hurt this badly, but his typical Wolfwood snark and bravado have always been quick to return. The fact that he’s just sitting there and staring back at Nai without so much as a “fuck off, I’m fine” or “take a picture, it’ll last longer” is deeply unsettling.

Vash, seemingly reassured that Wolfwood isn’t going to topple out of his chair if he lets go of him, finally leaves his friend’s side to open the cabinet where they keep the cups and drinking glasses. “You should drink some more water.”

“Ice,” Wolfwood croaks instead, making both Nai and Vash perk up at the positive sign of verbal interaction. “It’s easier…” He waves a little bit near his throat with his good hand, enough for them to get the picture. Vash obliges him with a glass of ice cubes and he slides one carefully into his mouth, just holding it there and letting it melt. As it does, he holds the cold glass against his swollen cheek.

Nai gives Vash a poke through their connection as Wolfwood’s tired eyes slip closed. So, what happened to him?

He still hasn’t said anything about it, Vash replies with a barely noticeable frown and shrug.

Nai’s gaze narrows in annoyance. Well then, ask him. This is strange.

Vash glances over, his own brows furrowed stubbornly, and shoots him a more obvious frown. Yeah, it definitely is, but I’m not going to bother him to talk about it if he doesn’t want to. Whatever’s already happened isn’t as important as what we do from here to make sure he’s okay. He’ll tell us when he’s ready.

Now Nai knows he’s wearing his own pouty scowl, and he can’t even formulate a response because he knows that his twin is probably right. Nai just craves to know exactly what transpired to land Wolfwood here with them like this; a firm roadmap of events to build onto as they plan what to do instead of what they’ve currently got, which is a mostly blank page.

Further discussion is curtailed by a quiet sigh from Wolfwood, who’s opened his eyes again. It looks to have been a monumental effort.

“What else do you need?” Vash asks him gently, ever attentive. 

“Aspirin,” he mumbles around his ice cube, expression still mostly-vacant.

“Ibuprofen,” Nai decides, figuring it should help with the swelling. He dives back into the medicine cabinet. He does feel bad for Wolfwood—bad enough that he’d give him the last two Vicodin if they weren’t set on trying to get him to a doctor as soon as becomes practical. He’ll need to be as sharp as he can be during the exam. Nai almost wishes Wolfwood would argue, put up any kind of token resistance to being bossed around like this (anything for a bit of normalcy) but he doesn’t. Just spits out his ice, swallows the pills that are put in front of him, and resumes sucking on the cube. “Go shower,” Nai finally tells him. The heat of the water should also help that stiffness, at least a little. “We’ll make breakfast.”

Again, Wolfwood complies without protest.

Despite having been volunteered for breakfast duty, Vash keeps hold of Wolfwood’s good hand and they head toward the downstairs shower together at a pace Wolfwood can manage. A snail might get there first. Wolfwood surely won’t allow Vash to help him with said shower, but Nai is willing to bet that his brother will stay parked outside the bathroom door for the duration of it, just in case. Which leaves Nai to figure out the breakfast situation.

He grabs his phone off the counter by the coffee maker and, as hoped, there’s a text from Rem that she’s on her way home from the airport. Nai drags a hand down his face with a deep sigh, both relieved (very soon he will no longer be the most responsible party in the house) and apprehensive (he really isn’t looking forward to whatever happens next). At the very least, he can make sure everyone has food to keep them going. He starts pulling ingredients out of the fridge with a vengeance.

- // - // - // - // -

When the front door opens with the jangle of house keys, fresh coffee is brewing and Nai is putting the finishing touches on two ham and cheese omelets. A bowl of whisked eggs and milk sits on the counter near at hand, ready to scramble as soon as Vash and Wolfwood are ready to eat them. They’ve been gone a while; he would worry that Wolfwood might have passed out in the shower or something, but he hasn’t heard the sounds of Vash breaking down the bathroom door. Instead, Nai hears the wheels of Rem’s luggage in the foyer a moment before she peers around the corner into the kitchen, no doubt lured by the caffeine fumes.

“Good morning!” She smiles, looking every bit like she’s been stumbling on and off planes all night, but also like she’s terribly happy to see him.

“Welcome home.” He carefully flips an omelet and leans over obligingly so she can kiss his cheek. “Breakfast is almost done.”

“One of those is for me?” She puts a hand to her heart as if overcome by emotion. Ninety percent of Vash’s ridiculousness was learned from her, Nai is sure. “And coffee? Bless you, my child.” She gives him another peck and then pulls away, dropping her purse on the table and shucking her coat. On her way to hang it up, she glances into the living room with some surprise. “I couldn’t help but deduce by the motorcycle parked in my spot that Nick is here. I expected him and Vash to be passed out in front of the TV, at least.”

Nai mentally kicks himself for not thinking to move the bike up the driveway before she got home. “Ah. Sorry about that. I’ll go pull it up in a second.”

“Oh, it’s fine.” Rem just chuckles, patting him on the back in passing as she zeroes in on the coffee maker. “Parking on the street just once won’t kill me. I’m sure Nick will be happy to move her himself when he gets up. Are they still asleep upstairs?”

“Wolfwood’s in the shower. Vash is…” Vash is probably sitting outside the door like a puppy waiting for its human to emerge. Nai plates the omelets before they scorch and just spits the unfortunate information out before he can over think too much on the delivery. Better that she hears it somewhat calmly from him than from Vash, who could reappear at any moment and start anxiety-babbling. “Rem, listen. Something happened last night.”

She glances up from pouring her coffee, eyes immediately narrowing. She knows the tone of voice that means ‘bad news is incoming, brace yourself’ very well after ten years of wrangling curious, strong-willed, often rambunctious twin boys. “What’s wrong?”

“Wolfwood’s hurt. We think he was in a fight.” Nai carries the plates to the table, not missing how Rem is now laser-focused on his words. “He went MIA last night—he had plans with Vash and the girls—and then turned up here.”

She nods slowly. “Alright. How badly is he hurt?”

“Fairly bad. I think he’s got some broken fingers. Maybe ribs, too. There’s a lot of bruising. He took some hits to the face. He was absolutely covered in blood—had a deep cut that wouldn’t stop bleeding. Vash and I cleaned him up. I splinted his hand and gave him some painkillers. We might have ruined your yellow towels. Sorry.”

If nothing else, raising Vash (who seemed to need quarterly stitches when they were growing up) has given Rem lots of practice at not panicking in such situations. Her back is ramrod straight, lips pressed in a thin line, hand clenched around the handle of her mug, but she’s not freaking out. “The towels aren’t important. I’m glad you two were able to take care of him.” She takes a deep breath in, out, in, and finally takes a sip of coffee. “If there’s a chance something might be broken, he needs to be checked out.”

“Right. We thought so, too. But he was… Well, he still isn’t right, but he was so out of it last night that he wasn’t even verbal. We thought he would fight us if we tried to make him go to the hospital, so we didn’t. Maybe he’ll listen if it’s you.”

“Making me the bad guy, huh?” Rem snorts. “It’s like you think I have experience negotiating with stubborn young men.”

Nai knows instantly that somehow, some way, she’ll get Wolfwood to a medical office of some kind before noon and it will be by the least painful process possible. He leans into the hand she buries in his still sleep-messy hair, hoping his relief isn’t too obvious. “You’re welcome.”

Quick footsteps from the back of the house suddenly catch both their attentions. Vash’s voice precedes him into the kitchen. “Nai, Nick’s taking a while so I’m going to hurry and get dressed, okay? Please keep an eye—” His head pops into view around the corner, hair even wilder than Nai’s. His eyes bug as he gasps. “Rem! You’re home!”

“Hi, honey.” She barely has time to put down her mug before Vash has her in a hug that lifts everything but her toes off the tile.

“I’m so glad you’re home,” he says, muffled in her shoulder and the fall of her hair. “Nick is—!”

“I know, sweetie, I know. Nai told me.” She takes Vash’s face in her hands as he loosens his hold and pulls him down until she can land a gentle kiss on his forehead. “It’s gonna be okay. I’m so proud of you both for handling things and taking care of Nicholas. That must have been very hard, especially for you. And we’re going to keep helping him. I promise.”

“Okay,” Vash sniffles, nodding with his cheeks still squished in her hands. “Thank you.”

“Don’t thank me for doing what moms are supposed to do,” she huffs. “You hustle up and get dressed. I’ll help Nai finish breakfast. Everything looks better on a full stomach, right?”

“Right.” Clearly still trying to be brave, he scrubs at his face before the tears can fall and manages a smile. “Be right back.”

True to his word, Vash is back downstairs in fresh clothes in three minutes flat. As his brother resumes his post by the bathroom door to await Wolfwood’s reemergence, Nai leaves Rem to make the toast and takes his own turn upstairs to dress, wash his face, and fix his hair. He feels more put together and definitely less anxious with Rem there to help them figure things out. The morning is looking up.

Back in the kitchen, Nai scrambles the waiting eggs. He almost gets the tabasco out of the fridge for Wolfwood (the guy’s affinity for capsaicin is kind of ridiculous) but thinks better of it at the last minute. If he can barely swallow water, pepper sauce won’t do his throat any favors. Nai does, however, remember to leave the bag of shred cheese by Vash’s plate so he can ruin his own portion.

It’s only a minute or two later that Vash returns to the kitchen with a freshly-washed Wolfwood in tow. Pouring glasses of milk and juice at the counter, Nai glances up to see if showering has had any obvious positive effects. He can’t help but notice Wolfwood stop in his tracks as he catches sight of Rem drinking her coffee at the table.

She stands up as Vash tugs Wolfwood gently by the hand, trying unsuccessfully to lead him to the table. “Nicholas. I hear you had a rough night.” It’s the same soft, coaxing, non-threatening tone she’s used since the twins were children, grubby hands clasped protectively over a scraped knee. “May I see?”

Thankfully—maybe because she isn’t being demanding or overbearing—Wolfwood allows her to check him over without a fuss, even if he’s obviously not totally comfortable with it. She tuts at the state of his bruised face and split lip, looks like she may be about to say something more, when his stomach growls loud enough that Nai hears it on the other side of the room. Well, at least that answers the question of whether or not he has an appetite.

Hey, don’t laugh, Vash scolds silently (even though Nai definitely bit his lip and did not make a sound, thank you very much).

Rem smiles and squeezes Wolfwood’s shoulder gently. “Nai made some scrambled eggs for you and Vash. Come eat while it’s hot and fluffy.”

With that, a halfway normal breakfast gets underway. It could be like any other morning after a sleepover at their house if not for the fact that Vash’s right hand seems surgically attached to Wolfwood’s left and he has to be reminded that his friend needs said hand to operate a fork. Nai asks Rem about her trip. Kuro takes up her usual spot beside Vash’s chair to beg for tidbits of egg and cheese that she definitely shouldn’t be eating, but is given anyway.

Vash eats like someone who had nothing but cereal for dinner the night before, plowing through three helpings of eggs, at least four slices of toast, and so much cheese that Nai finally has to snatch the bag away from him if there’s going to be any left for taco night. In contrast, Wolfwood nibbles what he’s able to, slowly and carefully. He’s only able to finish half the scrambled eggs on his plate, but Nai figures that’s pretty good for someone who clearly got punched square in the mouth less than twenty-four hours ago. At least he seems to have gotten enough that his stomach stops growling.

With everyone as done as they’re going to get, Nai and Vash start clearing the table by unspoken agreement to give Rem and Wolfwood some space. Time for her to work her motherly magic.

It goes about as well as expected.

Nai is only half listening as he rinses the plates and cups and utensils for Vash to load into the dishwasher, but Wolfwood’s audible snarl of refusal on going to the hospital is more than enough to make him glad they decided to wait for Rem’s backup before broaching the topic. He can only imagine what would have happened if they’d attempted a conversation like this last night.

Vash winces, radiating nervousness even as Rem placates Wolfwood (exactly like she used to do when the twins were eight years old, keyed up, and on the brink of a meltdown) and talks him down until he agrees, albeit with great reluctance, to visit the closest urgent care center instead.

Nai does his best to soothe, elbowing Vash gently as he snaps the dishwasher closed. Hey, it’s okay. He agreed to go. We’ll be out of here in ten minutes.

 That, of course, is when everything goes to shit.

Nai has largely stopped paying attention to what’s being said behind them, but he registers Rem asking Wolfwood if she needs to call his father. The next second there’s the high-pitched squeaky scrape of wood across the tile floor as Wolfwood shoots to his feet and knocks his chair away from the table, nearly sending it over backwards.

Rem pushes back in the opposite direction, obviously alarmed but not truly afraid because she knows (they all know) that Wolfwood would never hurt anyone who didn’t come at him first.

Both twins freeze. The seconds last eons, all eyes locked on Wolfwood as his fists clench and he starts to shake. It’s eerily similar to the state he was in the night before, standing at their door in the rain like he didn’t even know where he was or what was happening, and Nai hopes more fervently than he has hoped for anything in a long, long time that Wolfwood isn’t about to try to run. They can’t let him leave, not with how he’s hurt, and even though the twins working together could definitely overpower him with his current injuries, doing so would definitely make those injuries even worse.

Vash breaks first. He dodges around the breakfast bar with Nai half a step behind and grabs his best friend by the arm. In a split-second decision to trust his twin’s instincts, Nai mirrors the motion and wraps a firm hand around Wolfwood’s opposite arm, bracketing him securely between them even as he flinches in their hold. He’s trembling faintly, sucking air fast and shallow, and Nai notices with a silent curse that the splint on his probably-broken fingers is now completely mangled with how hard he’s clenched his hands.

“Breathe,” Nai tells him, as calmly as he can manage. “It’s okay. Focus on deep breaths.” Hopefully deep breaths are possible with his ribs.

Vash immediately joins the coaching, threading the fingers of Wolfwood’s good hand with his own and hugging it to his chest. “You’re in a safe place,” he assures softly. “Nothing else matters. Nothing can hurt you here. Just keep breathing, okay? Everything will work out.”

Their words seem to reach Wolfwood. The next breath he takes is a bit deeper, though the exhale still shudders out of him.

“Good. Try another.” Nai raises his free hand and presses it between their friend’s shoulders, encouragement to relax out of the defensive hunch. “Deeper this time.”

“You’re doing great,” Vash praises, squeezing the hand in his grip. “Keep going.”

Somehow they get through the next couple of minutes. Wolfwood’s breathing slows and finally evens out. His trembling stops, muscles releasing tension in small increments until he suddenly goes boneless between them. Vash shifts to take more of his weight; Nai hooks a foot around the leg of the chair and pulls it back over.

Rem stands slowly, like she’s afraid of startling Wolfwood as they ease him back into his chair. “You two are pretty amazing, you know that?” she says quietly, looking at Vash and Nai with that wondering smile that means she’s stupidly proud of something they’ve done.

As if they could have both had ten years of counseling (and counting) and not picked up a few coping skills along the way. Come to think of it, maybe Wolfwood should try some of that. Even though it’s not cheap, Rem might have some connections, some trick up her sleeve. Nai makes a mental note to bring it up with her later as she carefully bends down to make eye contact with Wolfwood.

“Nicholas. I’m sorry I upset you. No one will know you’re here until you’re ready.” When no negative reaction is forthcoming, she wraps her arms around his shoulders in a gentle but hopefully reassuring hug. “You’re safe here. You’re always safe with us. We’re going to take care of you.”

At the miniscule nod she gets in response, Nai finally feels secure enough to let his hand slide off Wolfwood’s back.

Vash, who may actually never let go of Wolfwood again, just keeps hold of his uninjured hand. “Are you ready to go, Nick?” he murmurs. “I think your splint might need redone. Hey, maybe they’ll give you one of those neat gloves?” It’s the same kind of inane chatter from the night before—not searching for a response, just giving his best friend something to focus on, letting Wolfwood know he’s there.

Wolfwood doesn’t say anything, but he does manage to return all those hand squeezes Vash is giving out, so it’s a start.

Looking more tired but also more determined than ever, Rem pours the last of the coffee into her trusty travel tumbler. “Vash, I already know you’re coming. Nai?”

Nai glances at Vash and gets an immediate please? both through their connection and a silent plea on his brother’s lips. Looks like it’s going to be Wolfwood, his emotional support Vash, and Vash’s emotional support Nai. “Yeah. I’ll go.”

They get Wolfwood into his jacket (good as new after a round in the dryer the night before) and everyone else into their various coats and hoodies. Rem shoulders her purse like she’s going into battle and they all file out into the dreary morning. 

While Vash helps Wolfwood into the car, Nai moves the motorcycle further up the driveway—he’s willing to bet no one will have the wherewithal when they get back from this messed up quest. Lying on the damp concrete by the back tire are Wolfwood’s keys. No wonder they hadn’t turned up in any of his pockets during laundry.

Nai piles into the passenger seat and reaches around to dangle the keys into the back. It’s Vash who takes them, though, and a glance in the rearview mirror shows why: Wolfwood is slumped against Vash, head on his shoulder, eyes already closed as if he’s simply too exhausted to care as he’s taken away to his fate.

Rem adjusts her seatbelt. “Alright, troops, bear with me. We’ll be there in ten.”

“Don’t go down Oaklyn, it’s one giant pothole,” Nai instructs before he even processes what he’s saying.

The smile she shoots him says she knows exactly why that matters and will take only the smoothest roads so as not to jostle the two in the backseat. Nai stares studiously out the passenger window and wonders when exactly he lost control of his life.

- // - // - // - // -

There turns out to be nothing urgent about the urgent care. They all sit in the waiting room for nearly half an hour before a nurse finally comes to fetch Wolfwood (and Vash by default). Nai and Rem wait much longer for them to come back.

“I’m just closing my eyes for a minute,” she says sternly, letting her head drop against Nai’s shoulder. “Just for a second.” She dozes for almost an hour.

Nai just tries to relax and wait patiently for whatever information Vash relays from the back through their bond.

Of course Wolfwood gets x-rays. Final verdict on his hand: two fractured fingers, one dislocated. After several doses of local anesthetic, the fingers are set and splinted. (Vash keeps his good hand in a death grip the whole time. Wolfwood does get to wear a fancy glove.) One rib is cracked, but still firmly attached; several others badly bruised. More anesthetic and the hematoma across his ribs, which had only worsened overnight, is drained before his chest is taped up tight. His forehead gash is deemed acceptable without stitches, but is cleaned again and re-bandaged. When they finally return to the waiting area, Wolfwood looks at least a bit more comfortably numb.

Vash has a prescription for more painkillers clutched in his free hand. “You’re probably supposed to take whatever this is with food. Do you think you could nibble anything we could get from a drive-through?”

The twins help keep Wolfwood distracted while Rem quietly pays the bill. He may still ask about it later when he’s more coherent, but they can always hope.

Then they’re off to a pharmacy to wait in line for a short eternity to pick up the script. A drive-through window for lunch where they order Wolfwood, who is half asleep again against Vash’s shoulder, both mashed potatoes and mac n’ cheese. Then finally home, to eat and get Wolfwood’s medicine into him.

“Okay,” Rem announces when the last chicken nugget has been consumed. “If no one needs anything from me, I’m going to go lie down for a while. Possibly until May. Please wake me up before you all graduate.”

“M’kay,” Vash mumbles around the last of his fries. The bags under his eyes are somehow more pronounced than they were that morning. Nai doesn’t even want to think about what his own face looks like.

Rem gives them all a kiss on the head, throws away her sandwich wrapper, and heads upstairs with Kuro trotting at her heels.

“A nap sounds like a good idea for everyone,” Nai suggests rather pointedly as he clears the rest of the table.

Wolfwood, slumped on the tabletop with his face hidden in his arm, groans. “I hate stairs…”

“I know, I know.” Vash pats his shoulder gently. “You’ll be more comfortable in bed than on the couch, though. C’mon, Nai and I will help you. I’ll even bring up dinner for you tonight so you don’t have to come back down, how about that?”

“M’not dyin,’ Blondie,” Wolfwood mumbles disapprovingly, but doesn’t resist being hauled to his feet and escorted upstairs before the wooziness of the painkillers has a chance to fully set in. Thankfully the journey is much smoother than it was last night. It obviously still hurts him to climb, though, and it probably will for a while.

Just like the night before, Wolfwood goes down into Vash’s bed-turned-blanket-nest like he’ll never rise. His eyes slit open as Vash slides in next to him, but they flutter shut again immediately on a sigh.

Because he still can’t seem to control his older brother impulses, Nai makes sure they’re tucked in. He can’t tell if Wolfwood is still so out of it that he’s unaware of the fussing, or if he’s just too drained to call him on it. He realizes, albeit grudgingly, that he won’t fully stop being concerned about the idiot until he feels well enough to resume their regular snark matches. Only then will Nai consider all to be completely well.

He’s turning to leave when Vash makes a soft sound. “Nai? Sorry, but could you grab me my phone, please? Pleeease?” he cajoles sweetly at Nai’s aggravated sigh. “I forgot to charge it last night with… everything, and it’s really low. I don’t want it to die.”

“Then you should have plugged it in as soon as we got home,” he grumps. But they both know he’s going to do it, because he can very rarely deny Vash anything. “Where is it?”

“I think on the counter by the bananas. Thank you, you’re the bestest best brother ever~”

Grumbling, Nai stomps back down the stairs. (Quiet stomping. Rem really went above and beyond today and he’s not going to be the one to mess up the sleep she’s finally getting.) When he returns, phone in hand, he pauses in Vash’s doorway.

In the three minutes he’s been gone, the two in the bed have shifted. They’ve snuggled tightly together again. Wolfwood’s face is all but hidden against Vash’s neck. Vash’s flesh-and-bone arm disappears under the pillow, his hand curling out the other side to twine fingers in the inky black hair at his best friend’s nape. Vash’s chin and part of his mouth are pressed softly to the top of Wolfwood’s head.

Even without their twin connection, Nai would be able to see the love and distant longing.

Will you PLEASE tell him how you feel about him? he asks tiredly, silently picking his way over to his brother’s desk to plug the phone in for him. Watching this is acutely painful.

Vash tenses almost imperceptibly, even though Wolfwood is clearly already deeply under. I can’t tell him NOW, Nai!

Obviously not. If you confess to him while he is sleeping, I will smother you myself. Do it this evening when he wakes in your tender embrace. That’s romantic, right?

No! Vash’s visible ear is turning slowly red.

What do you mean, no? Are the stars not properly aligned? Do you need to read some tea leaves first? I’m willing to go procure you some candles and rose petals if the ambiance is lacking…

Because Nick is in a delicate state right now, you dick! Vash fumes. He’s messed up physically and mentally—he doesn’t need his best friend confessing a stupid crush to mess him up emotionally, too!

This is NOT just a stupid crush, Nai points out reasonably. But I see your point. Just make sure to tell him by graduation or I’ll rent a plane to fly your confession on a banner over the ceremony.

I take it back; you’re the absolute worstest worst brother ever. OUT!

As much fun as it is to rile Vash up, Nai sees himself back to his own room. His hopelessly smitten little brother deserves to enjoy having his love in his arms for a while after all they’ve dealt with in the last—wow, it hasn’t even been twenty-four hours. Nai takes his own advice and sets an alarm for dinnertime, hopeful a long nap won’t ruin his circadian rhythm before spring break is even properly started. The rest of the day can be sacrificed for recuperation.

Tomorrow, though, he’s going to start prying some answers out of their scratch-and-dent houseguest.

Chapter Text

Much to Nai’s surprise, it’s Wolfwood who seeks him out the next morning.

Sunday begins on a very relaxed note compared to the day before. Everyone sleeps late besides Nai, who is, as usual, awoken by the cat at half past six, sharp. (He feeds Kuro and goes right back to sleep because spring break, damn it.) When they do all eventually roll out of bed, Vash decides to make everyone a late breakfast of pancakes.

There’s gentle conversation at the table; a return to the topic of Wolfwood staying with the family permanently that Rem had delicately brought up the evening before while they were all piled in Vash’s bed eating curry and rice for a late dinner, watching some horrifically bad sci-fi creature feature on his laptop. Rem is far from ignorant, and it’s fairly obvious based on the freakout he’d had when his father was mentioned that Wolfwood can’t go home—not right now. Maybe not ever.

Nai has formed two theories. The first is that Wolfwood was jumped and beaten somewhere in town (probably by more of the lowlifes who want to best him in a fight simply because he’s so good at fighting and they want bragging rights) and when he returned home, his father kicked him out for it. The second is that it was his own father Wolfwood went a round or three with. Nai really hopes that it isn’t the second theory.

Wolfwood carefully avoids talking about it, staring at his pancakes like the puddles of syrup hold the secrets of the universe. By the time breakfast is over, he’s managed several short ‘thank you for the offer’s but has neither accepted nor refused the invitation to stay, to be furnished with anything he might need, to let himself be cared for. Rem lets the conversation die and gently ensures Vash does the same.

After breakfast, Nai wanders out to the sunroom on the back of the house. It doesn’t take long for Vash and Wolfwood to join him. The sunroom is a cozy, quiet space just off the back porch that holds most of the family’s houseplants. Nai likes plants quite a bit (he blames Rem’s endless space flora research when he was an impressionable child) and does most of the watering and repotting.

“I’m going to get dressed,” Vash announces after a while with a lazy yawn. “Need anything from upstairs?”

Nai glances up from trimming down the potted English ivy that’s doing its best to take over a whole corner of the room. “Before noon? On a Sunday? Who are you and what have you done with my brother?”

Vash, ever the pillar of maturity, pointedly sticks out his tongue. Then he uncurls from his end of the wicker loveseat and stretches, shooting Wolfwood a reassuring smile. “I’ll be right back.”

As soon as he’s gone, Wolfwood turns to Nai. “Hey. I need a favor.”

Nai glances up from the ivy questioningly.

“I need to go back,” Wolfwood tells him bluntly.

“Go back,” Nai parrots, gears turning in his mind. There’s only one place Wolfwood could be referring to. Surely he doesn’t mean that he needs to go back permanently, not so soon, so it must be that he wants to pick up some of his belongings from the apartment. While Nai can certainly understand the desire to wear one’s own undergarments, it also sounds like a bad idea. “Do you have any idea what a PhD in bioengineering nets? We can afford anything that needs to be replaced.”

Rem can afford anything Wolfwood needs, he means, but she’s been gently pounding it into the twins’ heads for ten years that the money she makes is for their family as a whole, their wellbeing and their comfort; that they can ask for things and spend that money when necessary. That current circumstances qualify as ‘necessary’ is an understatement.

“Yeah, it's more zeros to the left of the decimal point than I'll ever see in my life,” Wolfwood snorts humorlessly. “I’ve gotten that talk from Rem and Vash. Twice, thanks. That’s not the point. I left things that can’t be left.”

“So why ask me? Vash would—”

“Vash is never getting within a thousand feet of that place,” Wolfwood spits, words dripping venom. “But I can’t exactly drive anywhere myself right now and he’ll freak if I go alone.”

“That’s... probably an accurate assessment,” Nai agrees, setting aside the plant snippers. If there’s even a remote chance that Wolfwood might be in any kind of danger, Vash would without a doubt blow a gasket.

“Look, no one should be there, and God help me, I trust you to not do the stupid thing and get involved if there is. You’re also not going to fucking break down on me even if you see something I’d rather you didn't.” Wolfwood is talking faster, movements twitchier by the second. “Someone Vash trusts implicitly goes with me, you don’t get the emotional backlash—yeah, I know about that particular Wonder Twin quirk—and I never have to go back again. It’s a win all the way around.”

Nai considers his proposal, not missing the ‘never go back again’ part. It makes sense. And yet… “You are injured and also shouldn’t be there,” he points out with a frown. If just talking about going back to the apartment is getting Wolfwood this worked up, what would actually being there do? Nothing good, Nai’s sure. “You can talk me through what to grab over the phone.”

“No.” Wolfwood shakes his head, flat refusal. “You're an asshole sometimes, but that doesn’t mean you need to see that shit either.”

Nai chooses to ignore the insult. (Mostly because Wolfwood is correct; he is more than capable of being an asshole sometimes. Most of the time, depending on who you ask.) “If I go with you, I will see, regardless.”

“You’ll see a bit of it from the doorway,” Wolfwood insists, “where you’ll wait with 911 on speed dial in case something happens.”

Damn it. That’s all but confirmation of theory number two. Nai gives him an assessing look. “If I'm not allowed to murder, neither are you. So I'd better not have to call 911.” A poor attempt at humor, maybe, since Wolfwood’s not going to be any shape to murder anything stronger than a mosquito any time in the foreseeable future, but he has to try.

Wolfwood doesn’t laugh. He looks so resigned, almost hopeless, totally at odds with his usual brash personality. If they do this, they’ll be taking a huge risk—but apparently whatever he needs to retrieve is important enough to him that he thinks it’s worth it.

“Okay,” Nai finally agrees with a sigh. He hopes neither of them will regret the decision. “But you have to tell Vash.” Like hell they’re going to be able to sneak out of the house without Vash knowing, and he isn’t going to face the look of betrayal on his brother’s face if they try to ditch him.

“Tell me what?” Vash asks innocently as the glass door slides open. Speak of the angel and in he flutters.

Wolfwood tenses, shoulders hitching defensively. He shoots Nai a death glare (actually rather intimidating with how rough his face currently looks) but does a good job not snapping at Vash. He can’t look his best friend in the eye, though. “I need to get some things. Nai’s taking me.”

“Okay, where are we going?” Vash agrees, reaching for Wolfwood’s hand like it’s become second nature to him in just one weekend.

Nai feels the pang of confusion and hurt from his twin as Wolfwood pulls away before Vash can join their hands—the first time since this mess began that he’s refused the contact. Oh, this isn’t going to be a pleasant conversation.

“No ‘we,’ Blondie. Just me. You stay here.”

“What? Why?” Vash asks, bewildered. “Where are you going?” When Wolfwood doesn’t answer, still won’t make eye contact, Vash knows. “No!” he nearly shouts, eyes huge, shaking his fluffy head in denial. “Why do you need to go back there? We already told you we can—”

“You can’t replace these things!” Wolfwood groans, grimacing like the argument physically pains him. He never has liked to upset Vash, and since the very beginning of their friendship their disagreements have always resolved almost as soon as they begin. “I can’t leave them there to be trashed!”

“Then Nai and I can go! Tell us—”

“No!” Wolfwood is getting frantic, looking panicked at the very idea. “I can’t guarantee he’s not there! It’s bad enough I might not walk out a second time, I won’t risk you!”

Hey, calm down, Nai projects firmly at the instant spike of alarm the insinuation sends through Vash. This getting out of hand. Just calm down. It’s alright.

Vash ignores him completely. “Why wouldn’t you be able to leave again?” he demands. “What—”

“Vash, please.” It’s Wolfwood’s voice breaking that finally stops everything short.

Vash freezes at the plea, hands clenched in the hem of his hoodie, radiating upset that he’s distressed his friend so much.

Wolfwood honestly looks like he might cry, head hung and everything about his body language dejected. It’s somehow worse than the raw anger from yesterday. “Please,” he says again, softer. “I promise I’ll explain. I’ll tell you everything. All of it. I swear I will. But I can’t—I need to know you’re not—that he can’t—I need you here. Please, Vash. Please just stay here. Please.”

Nai braces against the whirlwind of Vash’s emotions. Guilt (at himself for pushing Wolfwood to the point of literally begging). Fear (that Wolfwood could be hurt again, at all, in any way). Anger (at the one who hurt Wolfwood in the first place, at the thought of not being able to protect him).

Anger is an almost foreign emotion coming from the other direction—that’s Nai’s department. He retaliates as best he can, piling on the calm and soothing feelings through their connection. The quiet stretches, tense, but finally he feels Vash relax just a little.

“I can keep you on speaker to give you updates,” Nai offers quietly, speaking aloud mostly for Wolfwood’s benefit. “If it looks suspicious at all, I won’t even let him out of the car. We’ll leave at the first sign that something isn’t right.” The simple fact that Wolfwood is refusing to back down from this, would rather have Vash angry with him than give up on going back to the apartment, proves that they need to at least attempt it. But Nai still refuses to allow it to turn into a suicide mission.

Vash finally gives. His shoulders slump, making him look small inside his stupid two-sizes-too-big hoodie. “…okay,” he says quietly, voice rough with unshed tears. “Please be safe.”

Wolfwood only nods, staring at the floor, seemingly unable to make any more words.

Nai, please please please please— Vash whimpers silently.

Hey. I’ve been trusting him to keep you safe for years. Trust me to keep him safe for one afternoon, alright?

Vash pouts at him, looking unfairly mad and adorable and, yeah, like he might cry when they leave, which is unfortunate. Not just him, you jerk. Keep yourself safe, too!

“I swear,” Nai promises, squeezing his little brother’s shoulder on his way to grab his coat. “We’ll be back in an hour.”

- // - // - // - // -

Nai and Wolfwood slip out of the house without fanfare. Vash likewise keeps a low profile; none of them want Rem to know about this particular errand until after they’re safely back home. She’s deeply engrossed in a conversation over Teams, though (with a colleague in Tokyo if the back and forth in fluent Japanese pouring from her home office is any indication) so with any luck she won’t even know they’re gone.

Nai has been to Wolfwood’s home a grand total of twice. Both times were to pick him up, and both times he had been waiting in the parking lot and jumped into the car like he was being chased by rabid weasels. Neither Nai nor Vash have ever seen the inside of the place. It’s not in the worst part of town but it’s certainly not the greatest, and Nai is already scanning carefully when they pull into the complex’s lot.

“What does he drive?” he asks Wolfwood, waiting for confirmation that it’s safe to park.

“… truck’s not here,” Wolfwood finally says after they’ve circled the whole lot. “Didn’t really expect him to be, but you never know. Been hard to guess at it here recently.”

Nai chooses a spot as close as he can manage and pulls in. They both stare up at the façade of the apartment building. “Alright. What’s our game plan?”

“In an’ out, fast as possible,” Wolfwood grits. “I’m not after much. Hopefully it’ll all be where I left it.” His jaw visibly clenches; his good hand flexes nervously. “You just stay by the door and be ready to call backup.”

His companion’s obvious fear is finally starting to get to Nai now that this is actually happening, but he tries to think rationally. Logic says that if Wolfwood dished out anything like the damage he took, then Wolfwood senior must also be in a fairly bad way. Nai may not have street fighting down to an art like someone in present company but he’s not entirely incompetent, so he likes to think he wouldn’t get his ass kicked too badly by a person who already has significant injuries. If nothing else, he should be able to get between them and at least keep the man off of Wolfwood if things turn dire. He can afford to take a few hits—Wolfwood would go down under even one. Vash would be completely distraught either way, though, so further violence of any kind needs to be their last of the last resorts.

But this is all hypothetical. What’s actually going to happen is that they’re going in. They’re coming out with Wolfwood’s things. Nothing bad will occur while they do so and then they’re never coming near this address again. Think positive, as all those optimists in his life so like to say.

Nai nods decisively. Pulling his phone out of the cup holder, he texts Vash. On the off chance he does wind up needing to call emergency, it would be better not to have his brother on the line (even if it would lend to the Mission: Impossible vibes). //We’re here. Coast looks clear. Going in now.//

//Ok. BE CAREFUL//

//We will. I’ll call when we’re back in the car.//

Then they move.

Wolfwood leads the way up the stairwell. It’s hard to act casual with urgency quickening his pace and making his stiffness and limp more obvious, but thankfully they meet no one on the way up to the second floor landing. Wolfwood fumbles a bit unlocking the door with his left hand but gets it open and peers carefully inside. The apartment is dark.

“Okay.” He releases a deep, relieved breath and ducks inside.

Nai follows him in, quickly shutting and locking the door behind them, both the knob and the deadbolt. Then he slides on the chain for good measure—it might buy them a little time if need be. Wolfwood slips from his side and disappears further into the dim, stale interior of the apartment. It’s foreign to Nai that the inside of a living space should be so dark this late in the morning—humans need vitamin D—but he leaves the blinds down over the nearby windows as a precaution and hits the light switch instead. Only then does he turn to look after Wolfwood. His first clear view of the living area stops him in his tracks.

… damn.

It looks like the place has been ransacked, like a robbery with no finesse. An upturned ashtray and its contents, empty bottles, and swaths of junk mail litter the floor around a broken flat pack coffee table that’s jammed up against the sofa. A folding chair lies on its side beside a small computer desk, a keyboard hanging off it by the cord. There’s shattered glass on the dingy carpet, and deep, dark stains that are definitely blood.

Whatever Nai was expecting, it wasn’t this. This doesn’t look like any tidy exchange of blows. It looks like they were trying to kill each other.

He can hear Wolfwood cussing from what must be his bedroom down the short hallway, faint sounds that might be drawers opening and closing, something heavy scraping the wall. The urge to go and help—Wolfwood is injured, goddamn it, he shouldn’t be moving things!—wars with the need to stand lookout as planned.

“Ha! Fuck yeah,” drifts down the hall, laced with grim triumph.

Reassured by whatever little victory Wolfwood seems to have achieved, Nai decides to stay where he’s been told. For now. He drifts just a few paces, one wary eye on the door and the other scanning his surroundings in more detail. The small apartment has an open layout. The kitchenette just off the front door is separated from the living area by a breakfast bar, not unlike how the Saverems’ kitchen is separated from the space where the dining table sits. Unlike in his own home, though, where the countertop is covered with normal kitchen items like a fruit bowl and a stand mixer and occasionally a NERF gun or two, here the area is forested with bottles. Far different from the tasteful bottle of wine or two that Rem’s coworkers gift her each holiday season, here there are so many hard liquor bottles that he doubts there’s enough empty space on the countertop to make a sandwich.

Nai’s frown deepens. Wolfwood never made a secret of the fact that his father had a drinking problem (“drunk asshole” being his most common term of referral for the man), but now it seems he’s been underplaying the severity of the issue somewhat. Seeing the evidence in person is… it’s upsetting, though Nai does his best to keep his emotions on an even keel. The less Vash feels from him now if he decides to reach out, the better.

He does a fairly decent job with that until he steps on something that snaps, too focused on the door to watch where he’s walking. He glances down and lifts the toe of his sneaker off a small, flat, black square. Nai stares at it for a moment until he realizes—it’s a lens. A lens from a mangled pair of sunglasses. Slowly, he stoops to pick them up. They’re Wolfwood’s, of course. The frame is broken beyond repair; the arm on the side where the lens has fallen out is gone.

Wolfwood has been wearing this same pair since they met. The shades are as quintessentially him as his toothy smirks, messy black button-downs and obnoxious teasing. Nai abruptly wishes Mr. Wolfwood would walk through the door, because he would very much appreciate the chance to bust him in the face and see how he likes it.

Wolfwood is their friend. The person Nai’s little brother loves. He’s theirs. How dare anyone, least of all his own flesh and blood, harm him like this, in his own home, what should be the safest of safe places?

… huh. This must be what mob bosses feel like when someone threatens the family. Nai should probably be more surprised that he’s become possessive enough of Wolfwood to feel this much, but at the moment there’s room only for anger and keeping that anger from backwashing hard enough for his twin to pick up on it.

Luckily, before Nai can work himself up too much, Wolfwood emerges from the hall with his backpack on and the strap of a battered duffel bag over one shoulder. He catches sight of the remains of his sunglasses in Nai’s hand and scowls, but the expression is quickly replaced by the previous tight-lipped anxiety.

“Did you get everything?” Nai asks, grateful for the distraction.

“Almost.” Wolfwood grimaces like there’s a foul taste in his mouth. “Fucker took my cash.”

“He what?” Nai demands.

“Everything I was saving for a down payment on my own place. Should’a known he knew I had some stashed—always does.” He snorts bitterly. “New system’s gone, too. Figured that would be, though. Probably in the pawn shop already.” He clutches the duffel protectively to his uninjured side. “But I got everything that really matters.”

White hot anger surges through Nai anew. Damn it, didn’t he just remind himself not to give Vash any cause for concern?

Wolfwood wavers, glancing quickly around the room. “Almost ready to split. Got a few more places to check. He probably hit all those too, but…” 

Nai strides back to the window by the door and cautiously parts the dingy blinds. Most of the parking lot is visible from this vantage point and it appears unchanged; no vehicles have come or gone. He gives a curt nod. “Do it. We’re still good.”

Wolfwood returns the nod and limps off, this time disappearing into the bathroom. Sighing deeply, Nai paces the length of the bar. He puts the sunglasses down with more force than he means to and picks up a bottle instead. It’s some kind of bourbon, half full.

Nai’s hand slowly tightens around the neck of the bottle. He wants to sling it against the wall, or maybe off the landing outside and down onto the sidewalk below for the drunk asshole (Wolfwood is right, it’s the perfect moniker) to discover before he even has a chance to realize that he’s lost his son for good. Maybe someday he’ll honestly regret what he’s done and that will be punishment enough. Maybe he won’t. Either way, some kind of consequence begs to be meted out here.

Giving in to violent urges like throwing glass at walls in real life instead of a virtual one is very much not a good idea. Holding onto that truth as tightly as he’s still clutching the bottle, Nai walks calmly to the kitchen sink, unscrews the cap, and pours the whole thing down the drain instead. Petty, perhaps, but just maybe there’s enough liquor here to equal the sum total of his friend’s missing cash. He screws the cap back on, puts the bottle neatly back into its place, and reaches for the next.

He’s six bottles down when Wolfwood notices what he’s doing.

The slightly crazed gleam in Wolfwood’s eyes gets even wilder as he passes by, a ghost of his usual smirk gracing his bruised face. “Nice. Keep goin’—thought of one more thing I should grab.” At Nai’s questioning look, he holds up a pack of cigarettes. “Since I probably paid for every cig in this dump, I figure I’m just collecting my due.”

Nai raises the current bottle in a sarcastic toast. “Cheers.”

He’s swirling the last bottle’s contents down the drain when Wolfwood stumbles out of the hallway again with two cartons of cigarettes under his arm. His expression is a strange combination of victorious and terrified. “Okay, yeah, we gotta go. Let’s get the hell out’a here.”

“Perfect timing.” Nai caps the bottle and puts it back, imagining with some satisfaction the fury that’s likely to result when its owner finds every single one of them empty. Pity he doesn’t have time to make sure there isn’t more alcohol stashed somewhere else in the apartment (like the master bedroom that Wolfwood has clearly just raided) but they’ve been here more than fifteen minutes already as it is. No sense pushing their luck.

They peer out the window one last time to make sure the coast is still clear. It is. Then they’re out onto the landing, Wolfwood shutting the door behind them harder than strictly necessary and locking it as if they were never there. He doesn’t look back even once.

Nai thinks they strike a fair balance between hurrying and not looking like they’re fleeing the scene of a crime. He still hits the locks as soon the car doors shut. With a sigh of relief, he glances at his companion. “Well. Mission accomplished.”

Wolfwood, slumped in the passenger seat, hugs his backpack like a drowning man clinging to a life preserver. “Yeah. Yeah. Can you drive now, please?”

Nai starts the car, then buckles in with one hand and dials his brother with the other.

Vash picks up instantly. //“Everything okay?”//

“Everything’s fine,” Nai reassures. “We’re out.”

//“Oh, good.”// The relief in his twin’s voice is palpable. //“Did Nick get what he needed?”//

“Everything important, he said.” Nai frowns deeply at the reminder of what Wolfwood wasn’t able to retrieve, but what’s gone is gone. He throws the car into reverse and then they’re leaving the apartment complex, out onto the road, and home free. “We’re heading back now. See you soon.”

Wolfwood stirs in the passenger seat as Nai ends the call and drops his phone back into the center console. Distance and adrenaline dump are finally driving the fear out of his eyes. “Hey. Can we actually stop one other place?”

“Where?”

“Where I work’s not far.” His head drops back tiredly with a humorless chuckle. “Hell, I dunno, it may be where I used to work, at this point. I was a no-call no-show yesterday. Didn’t even think about it until just now. Should tell the boss why, at least.”

Nai nods. “Tell me how to get there.”

It turns out Wolfwood wasn’t lying; in less than two minutes they’re pulling into the gas station convenience store where he works. Nai is ready to follow him inside, but a no-nonsense stare and a firm decree that Wolfwood will be right back let him know that he shouldn’t push his babysitting duties. Nai wisely decides to take the opportunity to top off the Prius instead. (Even though it’s technically Vash’s turn to pay for gas, he decides that, just this once, his little brother deserves a break after the weekend he’s had.) From the pump, he keeps an eye on the building.

All he can do is hope that Wolfwood’s talk with his boss goes well. In a perfect world, being beaten to the point of broken bones would be a completely acceptable reason to not be written up or let go for missing a work shift without notice, but Nai frankly doesn’t have that much faith in humanity. If it turns out that Wolfwood’s supervisor isn’t decent enough to let the incident slide, Nai isn’t above doing something terrible to them—like getting Rem involved. He really can’t think of a worse consequence than facing down her righteous fury.

Luckily, it doesn’t seem like that’s going to be necessary. Wolfwood emerges a few minutes later looking none the worse for wear and presumably still employed. He has a bag of suckers held protectively to his chest, at which Nai barely restrains a snort and a smile. In his good hand he has a small, white paper pastry bag. “Apology donut,” he mutters, putting it carefully in the free cup holder.

Nai highly doubts an apology of any kind is needed; in all the anger he’d felt from Vash before they’d left for the apartment, none of it had been directed at Wolfwood himself. But the day Vash turns down a donut will be the day Nai joins the glee club, so at least it won’t go to waste.

They head for home. The drive is quiet, the radio softly playing the generic pop hit station that it was set to Friday when they left school because Nai lost rock-paper-scissors. Wolfwood seems much calmer but still pensive. After a while he rolls the window down and Nai is afraid he’s going to have to make a split-second decision whether or not to let him smoke in the car, but Wolfwood makes no move to light up. It’s chilly but not unbearable, and the fresh air is nice, so Nai says nothing.

A few minutes later, as they cross the bridge over a canal not too far from their neighborhood, Wolfwood suddenly hauls back and slings something out the window with his good hand. It’s small and glints in the light when Nai glances over in surprise and catches a glimpse of whatever it is sailing off into the water. Before he can even ask, the window is rolled back up and Wolfwood is acting like it never happened, awkwardly stuffing the bag of suckers into his duffel as best he can with one busted hand. Nai decides to let it go. The whole damn weekend has been about triage and choosing his battles; why stop now?

Chapter Text

Vash is waiting at the window like a lost puppy when they pull into the driveway. The front door swings open as they come up the sidewalk. They’re barely inside before Vash has his arms around Wolfwood, hugging him as gently as he can and radiating pulses of relief.

Nai snorts at his twin with exasperated amusement as he shuts the door behind them. “See? I returned him safe and sound, as promised.”

Wolfwood looks completely stunned. He can’t hug back with his busted ribs on one side and his duffel bag hanging off the other shoulder, so he just stands there awkwardly until Vash can bring himself to pull back. “I… uh, I brought you this. From work.” He thrusts out the pastry bag in offering. “Nai stopped off and I talked to my boss. Guess I’m not fired. She put me on sick leave for six weeks.”

Vash peeks into the bag. His mouth drops open in surprise “Nick, you didn’t have to!” He looks back up at his best friend, smiling so soft and happy it shouldn’t take freaky twin powers for anyone to see how much love is behind it. “I’m… I’m so glad you’re safe. And that you got your stuff. I’m sorry I didn’t want you to go back for it.” His gaze drops to the floor, smile shifting to the self-deprecating one he wears all too often. “I was so worried that I overreacted, and I know it hurt you. I’m really sorry.”

“No, Spikey,” Wolfwood starts, eyes widening in denial. With his bruises and forehead bandage, he looks singularly pitiful. “I’m the one who—”

Nai rolls his eyes heavenward and shoos them both further into the house. “It’s truly heartwarming that your disagreements never last more than twenty minutes, but we should stop standing in the foyer.” Ideally soon, before Rem notices and asks where Wolfwood’s luggage came from. He can still hear Japanese from her little office down the back hall, but they’ve been gone an hour and whatever meeting she’s in can’t go much longer than it has already. “Wolfwood probably wants to put his bags down.”

“Oh, right, right!” Red in the face and still clutching the pastry bag, Vash does a panicked little dance toward the stairs, sheepishly beckoning Wolfwood to follow. “Come on, Nick, you can put your stuff in my room.”

Now that Wolfwood can get up and down stairs himself without needing a spotter, Nai lets them go. Instead he hangs up his coat and detours to the kitchen for a drink. He has a glass of water and also stress-eats half a bag of baby carrots (but if the only witness is small and furry, did it really happen?)

By the time he heads upstairs, the bathroom door is closed and he can hear the shower running. A glance into Vash’s room reveals only his twin sitting cross-legged on the bed. Wolfwood is nowhere in sight; must be him in the shower by default. Taking the opportunity to speak to his brother alone, Nai steps into the doorway.

Vash glances up at his presence, a soft little smile gracing his face. “Hi.”

“What is that?” Nai asks, nodding at the stuffed animal in Vash’s lap. He knows there are a few still hanging around from childhood, but this one isn’t familiar.

Vash laughs a little as he holds the floppy black wolf up. “Remember this guy? I brought him back for Nick from our field trip freshman year.”

Nai blinks in surprise. Yes, he actually does remember. He remembers Vash being terribly disappointed that Wolfwood had to miss the biggest and best class trip of the year. (A stomach bug, he’d claimed at the time, though now Nai has to wonder if that was really the reason.) He remembers Vash latching onto the wolf plush in the gift shop of the natural history museum and insisting that Wolfwood had to have it because he just did, and he remembers using half of his own souvenir money to buy Vash’s lunch afterwards because his brother spent everything he had on the overpriced thing.

Vash pets the wolf’s fur, smiling gently. “It was kinda silly. I can’t believe he kept it.”

Not only had Wolfwood kept it for nearly four years, but he’d brought it away from the apartment he was never returning to, chosen to retrieve the stuffed animal over some other, more valuable belonging or set of clothing in the limited time he’d had to grab what he could. Something of Nai’s amazement must have shown on his face or slipped through their connection, because Vash’s smile dims a bit.

“How bad was it?” Vash asks quietly. “Getting his stuff? He didn’t really tell me anything.”

“Pretty bad,” Nai admits truthfully, crossing his arms over his chest. “It could have been a lot worse, but it was still bad.” He thinks of the destroyed living room, the overpowering smell of God-only-knows-how-many years’ worth of stale cigarettes and spilled alcohol, the fear and anxiety haunting Wolfwood’s face through the whole thing. “I’m glad you stayed here.”

“Nick said he’d tell us what happened when you guys got back.” Vash is still petting the stuffed animal, staring down at it in his lap as if it somehow has all the answers. “But I… I kinda don’t want to ask him. I don’t want to upset him again.”

To be perfectly honest, Nai doesn’t want that either. Wolfwood has already been stressed out of his mind over the past two days. A conversation about what happened the night of the fight will just make that worse. That said… “I’ll bring it up,” he decides. “Then he won’t be upset at you. He’s used to being irritated with me anyway.”

Vash rolls his eyes and pushes up from the bed to put the stuffed wolf carefully on his desk. Next to it, a second phone charges beside his own; Wolfwood must have gotten his back. That’s at least one stroke of good luck. “Can’t you two just be normal friends and not pick at each other all the time?”

“Where would be the fun in that?” Nai smirks. “In all seriousness, though. We need to know what happened so we know how to help. Help in a permanent way, not just by putting bandages on him.” Based on what he saw at the apartment, Nai has a pretty good idea of what they’re likely to hear. All Wolfwood has to do is fill in the details, make the bits and pieces of the story fall into a cohesive whole. “Telling us will probably make him feel better, too. Catharsis and all that.”

“Yeah, probably.” Vash sighs and flops back down across his bed. “Doesn’t make it suck less while it’s happening.”

It’s the honest truth. Sometimes Nai can’t comprehend how people who haven’t had multiple years of therapy even manage to function in life. Before he can offer further encouragement to his little brother, the bathroom door opens down the hall. Wolfwood emerges, damp and shirtless and looking slightly less on edge. Nai steps back to let him into Vash’s room, then resumes leaning against the doorframe.

Vash perks up when his friend shuffles in. He shoves himself upright on the bed to give Wolfwood a smile. “Hey! Feel better?”

“Yeah, some.” Wolfwood shifts awkwardly, shirt draped over one arm and a roll of medical wrap in his good hand. “Think you could maybe…?”

“Oh! Yeah, of course. That’s definitely not a DIY job.” Vash pats the mattress beside him invitingly and reaches for the wrap.

Wolfwood slumps to the bed and rather placidly submits to having his chest wrapped back up. The instructions they were given say he shouldn’t do it for more than a couple of days, but for now it seems to be helping at least some. And for just a moment, Wolfwood is a bit of a captive audience.

“So.” Nai decides to do this quick. Like ripping off a Band-Aid. “I believe we were promised some details…?” No need to elaborate on what. Wolfwood knows exactly what he’s referring to, if the way he immediately tenses is any indication.

“You don’t have to,” Vash is quick to assure, one supportive hand on his best friend’s hunched shoulder. “Really, you don’t. It can wait if you’re not ready. But we’re here to listen if you think you are.”

There’s a long moment of silence. Just when it seems Wolfwood might take Vash up on the offer of a way out, he sighs. It’s a shaky, exhausted sound. “Yeah. You guys have spent your whole weekend dealing with my pathetic ass—knowing what happened’s the least you deserve.”

Vash makes a little sound of disapproving denial as Wolfwood pulls away from his touch and stands, shrugging slowly and painfully back into his shirt. “Nick, we’re glad we could help you!”

“And it’s not as if you asked to have the hell beaten out of you,” Nai scoffs.

Wolfwood snorts a humorless laugh. “What if I told you I was askin’ for it?”

“Then I’d be highly skeptical.”

“What do you mean?” Vash asks softly, concern bleeding from his tone.

Wolfwood picks up the lighter lying on the desk by his charging phone and flicks it open. Lighters have been his personal brand of fidget spinner for as long as the twins have known him. But he puts it in his pocket and picks up the stuffed wolf instead before limping back to the bed, sinking heavily down next to Vash. “Guess I should start from the top.” Head low, eyes focused on the stuffed animal, he begins haltingly. “My mom died when I was four…”

Like removing a key brick from the face of a dam makes the whole thing crumble, the first few reluctant words trigger a flood. Nai does his best to listen without comment, without showing too much emotion, and he knows Vash is struggling to do the same.

Wolfwood tells them about the drinking and abuse that had begun almost before his mother was properly buried. How he had spent his early childhood neglected and beaten by turns, constantly hungry and terrified. How things had been better when he was finally removed from his father’s custody and placed with his grandfather—still strict and overly religious, but better. How that all came crashing down when his grandfather had died during the last semester of junior high and Wolfwood had been returned to his father, who had picked the violence up right where they left off.

With every word that pours out of their friend, his voice gets rougher, his breaths more choked and frantic. He’d been too afraid of being taken into the system to run away or ask for help. He had endured—survived—the last four years by staying as silent as possible, staying away from the apartment as long as he could every day, letting most of the money he made at his part time job be taken from him; all except what he’d saved to buy Angelina back, which he’d delivered to her then-owner in installments as soon as he’d received his paychecks. Most importantly, he had never fought back. Until two nights ago.

“Friday night… It was my fault. I should’a known better.” Wolfwood sounds like he’s about to cry, or vomit, or both. “I figured he wouldn’t be back that night—it was payday—but then. I heard him come in. I should’a just stayed in my room, but I’d been talkin’ to Livio for like an hour and I was fuckin’ thirsty. Just wanted some water before we started game night. He was already fuckin’ drunk, of fuckin’ course. Guess he was just feelin’ mean and wanted to pick a fight.” He drags shaking fingers through the plush wolf’s thick fur. It’s a mechanical action, clearly self-soothing. “Asshole started runnin’ his mouth. Trying to make me mad. And… and it worked. He must’ve heard me on the phone—started sayin’ shit about Liv, called him a retard—” It’s a full-blown snarl. Wolfwood shakes his head violently, like he’s trying to dispel the memories, then looks pleadingly over at Vash. “Then he brought you into it and I—”

Nai’s nails dig into his own biceps through the fabric of his sweatshirt and he bites his tongue, hard. He suddenly feels that he knows exactly what Wolfwood is about to say. And he doesn’t blame him for it, not in any way, because he knows he would have done exactly the same thing.

Wolfwood inhales, exhales, long and shaky. “I took the first swing. It was like somethin’ snapped—I couldn’t stop myself. I know you can’t listen to a drunk, can’t argue with ‘em, but I… I stopped carin’ whatever shit he says about me a long time ago, but he doesn’t get to talk about you, or Liv, ever.” He lets go of the stuffed animal with one hand to rake trembling fingers through his hair. “I was so pissed. I’ve never been that mad before. I… I honestly think I almost killed the son of a bitch. Not sure what even made me stop hitting him once I finally had him down.”

Nai remembers the bloodstained carpet and feels queasy. As much as neither he nor Vash nor any sane person would pass judgment on Wolfwood for finally rocketing past his breaking point and unleashing righteous fury on the person who’s apparently been making his life a living hell for years, it’s a damn good thing he was able to get a hold of himself in the end.

“So, yeah,” Wolfwood wheezes, like his throat is lined with gravel. “The whole thing was all my fuckin’ fault. It’s always been my fault!”

Vash’s breath hitches. He reaches out unthinkingly, then seems to remember himself at the last moment, hand hesitating millimeters from Wolfwood’s sleeve. “Oh, Nico...”

Wolfwood makes a sound like a kicked dog—a high, wounded whine.

Nai turns and flees as his brother surges forward with open arms and Wolfwood all but crumples into the offered embrace, burying his face in Vash’s shoulder. There is definitely a clause in the friend code somewhere that you don’t stick around to watch while they break down, unless they explicitly need you. Right now Wolfwood does not need him; he needs Vash. Vash is better at feelings than Nai will ever be, and the best way Nai can help is by making himself scarce. Luckily, with his room situated as it is directly across the hall from Vash’s, he’s able to make a quick exit.

“It wasn’t your fault, Nick,” is the last thing he hears before quietly closing his door, giving them a modicum of privacy.

Alone in his room, Nai slumps down on the edge of his bed and scrubs his hands over his face, suddenly feeling very tired. Some spring break this is turning out to be. But how could he possibly complain about something so petty, considering what Wolfwood is going through—has been going through this whole time, and they’ve never known? Just when he thinks he can no longer be surprised by the unfairness of the world, life proves him wrong.

The twins remember their birth parents. The memories are fuzzy and faded with time, but they do remember, and all the memories are good. (Nai in particular has a very strong recollection of their dad pushing him and Vash on the merry-go-round at a park until they were so dizzy they couldn’t stand up, falling all over each other and shrieking with laughter until they had to be hoisted up like sacks of squirmy potatoes, one under each arm, and carried off to the ice cream truck.) They were wanted. They were loved. That parents like theirs had to die while ones like Wolfwood’s father are still very much alive and wasting oxygen has to be proof of something on a cosmic scale, Nai thinks sourly.

He lets himself fall backwards across the bed. He thinks about Rem, who is a wonderful mother, but who never got to carry children like she’d hoped—she’d lost her fiancé, Alex, before they could start a family, and couldn’t ever bring herself to date seriously again. He thinks about Legato’s parents, both extremely successful attorneys, who had a baby not because they wanted one, but because society said they should—then promptly moved on with their extremely successful lives, giving him so little attention or affection they may as well have been childless.

Then, because after eighteen and a half years of life he recognizes the beginning of a negative spiral, Nai forces himself to try to look for an opposite side of the coin. He thinks about Meryl, whose parents love and dote on her so much they’re nearly overprotective, and who is the apple of her uncle’s eye. He thinks about Milly, whose parents love and dote on her just as much, as do her siblings, uncles, aunts, and at least a dozen cousins. He thinks again about Rem, who went against all advice and common sense and took a chance on adopting two children with major issues, pulling them out of the same system Wolfwood had been so terrified of going into.

The good, the bad, and the ugly, he thinks with wry amusement.

After ten or fifteen minutes, Nai has successfully calmed himself enough that he no longer feels the urge to punch a wall or run over Wolfwood’s father with their car. (It’s probably a good thing he doesn’t know what the man looks like, though, just in case the opportunity was to ever present itself unexpectedly and lead unto temptation.) That’s a good thing, because even without trying he can feel Vash’s anger and sadness through their twin connection. Both of them truly angry at the same time never ends pretty.

Slow, limping footsteps down the hallway catch his attention. Then silence. Then a minute later, a tentative knock at his door. Nai doesn’t bother to say ‘come in;’ he doesn’t have to. Vash shuffles in and shuts the door behind himself.

Nai nods up at him from his bed-wide flop. “Yo.”

“Hi.” Vash tries for a weak smile that survives on his face for about a second and a half before it crumbles.

Nothing else needs to be said. Nai stretches out one arm across the mattress and makes the time-honored ‘gimme-gimme’ gesture. It’s all the incentive Vash needs to crawl onto the bed and flop down half on top of him, hiding his face in Nai’s shoulder and clinging to him for dear life as he starts to quietly cry. Nai’s outstretched arm wraps around him, holding his brother snugly to his side as he sends what calm, soothing feelings he can through their bond.

Where’s Wolfwood?

Smoking. Vash burrows even further against him. He’s so upset. He thinks… he said his dad started hitting him because he looks like his mom. He has her eyes. He really thinks he did something to deserve that!

Yes, of course. The preschooler forced me to abuse him because he physically resembles the wife I just lost and I’m not emotionally literate enough to cope with my own grief. Icy anger licks at the back of Nai’s mind. He does his best to keep it at bay. They can’t change anything that’s happened to their friend. But, as Vash himself pointed out just yesterday, the important thing is that they can help him going forward.

“I’m sorry,” Vash hiccups aloud into the fabric of his sweatshirt, now wet with tears. “I’m just so—” sadguiltymadmadmadMAD—

Nai angles his head, cheek resting against the fluff of his little brother’s hair. “This absolutely qualifies as a valid reason to be angry, Vash. The room is actively on fire. You don’t have to make yourself act like everything is fine.”

“Nick doesn’t need anger, though,” Vash huffs wetly. “He needs—”

“He needs to hear the truth, and you told him the truth. He needs a safe place to stay, and we’re giving him that. He needs to rest and heal, and we have a whole week off where he won’t even have to get up off the couch if he decides not to.” Nai tightens the arm still wrapped around his brother, scratching soothingly between his shoulder blades. “He needs support, and he’s got you. And me. And Rem. It might not be okay now, but it will be. Eventually.”

Vash sniffles, finally relaxing into him a little bit. “I need to talk to Rem. We have to convince him to stay with us somehow.”

“Good plan.” It’s the only logical course of action. Not only can they protect Wolfwood if he stays, they can pool resources. He’ll need time to replace the money that’s been stolen from him; time to build up some kind of financial safety net, let alone a deposit on an apartment of his own, and he wouldn’t be able to work full time without dropping out of school with only two months to go until graduation. That will happen over Rem’s dead body. “With her on our side we’ll definitely convince him.” He gives Vash one more half-hug of reassurance and smirks into his hair. “And if all else fails, just promise to keep sharing your bed with him. You both seem to like cuddling up in it an awful lot.”

Vash jolts, utters an intensely embarrassed squeak, and bites Nai’s shoulder.

Nai yells (in surprise, not pain) and uses the grip he’s already got to flip them over, squishing his impertinent twin into the mattress. “Rude.”

“You’re rude, you jerk!” Vash squawks, red in the face from both crying and embarrassment but clearly fighting a reluctant case of the giggles. “And heavy!”

“I chose the weight lifting elective. You chose film lit. Blame only yourself.” Going for the coup de grace, Nai leans in quickly before his hapless twin knows what’s happening and blows a raspberry on the warm, damp, salty (and gross, but it’s for a good cause) skin of Vash’s cheek. As predicted, Vash shrieks and flails, trying to push him off, but he’s laughing for real now. Nai rolls away and swats at him halfheartedly. “Go talk to Rem. She’s probably still in the office. And blow your nose first.”

Vash sits up and wipes his eyes with his sleeve. Love and gratitude thrum through their connection, eclipsing the lingering anger and sorrow. “I’ll blow it on your pillow!” he threatens with a wobbly grin.

Nai throws said pillow after him as he yips and scrambles toward the door. Gold star big brothering—nailed it.

- // - // - // - // -

With Vash off on his self-appointed mission, Nai contemplates his next move. A large part of him wants to go see where Wolfwood is. It’s not as if he thinks their friend is still a flight risk (and really, where would he possibly go if he snuck out?) but the compulsion is there. There’s a good chance Wolfwood just wants to be left alone, though. He’s hardly had an unsupervised moment to himself outside of the bathroom in almost two days, and Nai definitely wouldn’t blame him for wanting space after an emotional purge like that. 

After a few minutes of internal debate, he makes his way downstairs. There’s no harm in a little reconnaissance. If Wolfwood looks like he wants to be alone, Nai will honor that. If it looks like he wants company, Nai will provide until Vash is done with what he needs to do and can take over emotional support duty.

Downstairs is quiet. The door to Rem’s home office is shut. That door is almost always cracked at least a few inches. It’s her way of reminding her boys that she always available to them, that they are her top priority, more important than work. It only shuts completely when she’s in the most deadly serious of meetings. With Vash in there with her now, this probably qualifies as the most serious meeting the room has ever seen. Nai passes by silently, covertly looking for Wolfwood. The kitchen is empty. A slightly paranoid glance out the dining room window reassures that the motorcycle is still parked in the driveway. Nai is headed for the sunroom (Wolfwood typically smokes on the back patio outside the sunroom, when he smokes at their house at all) when he finds him.

Wolfwood is sitting on the couch in the living room. He looks like he’s been dropped there from ten feet up—head flopped back against the backrest, shoulders slumped, right arm limp at his side. His left hand rests on Kuro’s back where she’s curled up on his lap. Eyes closed, totally unmoving, he may actually even be asleep.

Nai doesn’t want to disturb him. He almost turns and leaves the room. But he walks over to the sofa anyway, socked feet silent on the hardwood, and sinks down on the cushions beside Wolfwood. If he gets told to fuck off he will absolutely do that, but until then he’ll just… sit. Quietly. Offering moral support. Nai has to admit he has very little idea what he’s doing when faced with comforting anyone but his brother. There was that one completely unexpected and extremely anxiety-inducing time Legato started crying on him and he thinks he handled that unfortunate incident the way a proper best friend should, so hopefully he won’t mangle anything with Wolfwood too badly.

Wolfwood doesn’t move away, doesn’t open his eyes. He’s definitely out of it, drifting in that liminal space between exhausted sleep and awareness. With a small sound of acknowledgement at Nai’s presence, he tips sideways sluggishly until his head lands on Nai’s shoulder.

Nai blinks in surprise at the action before the obvious occurs to him. Wolfwood thinks he’s Vash. It quirks his mouth into a smile. The twins aren’t physically identical anymore, with his extra couple inches of height and bulk, and no one has mistaken them for each other in what feels like a long time. It’s nostalgic, in a way. He returns the lean carefully, making sure not to put too much pressure against the other’s side.

Unlike Vash, Nai isn’t really physical with their friends (with one notable exception). Least of all with Wolfwood. They are friends now, but Nai will be the first to admit that the first six months or so of their acquaintance were pretty antagonistic. Though they’ve come a long way since then and their bickering has long since evolved into amiable fooling around, they’re still not overly chummy. This kind of contact between them is different, but… nice. Wolfwood smells like smoke, of course, but cigarette smoke has quietly become one of Vash’s comfort scents over the past few years. It’s not really surprising that sentiment has rubbed off on Nai.

Clearly, he’s going soft.

In Wolfwood’s lap, Kuro twitches hard and sneezes. It’s enough to jolt him awake; or at least awake enough to glance up blearily and realize who it is that he’s actually slumped against. “Oh, shit.” He blinks a few times, trying to get his bearings, and starts to shift away. “Sorry.”

Nai tries not to snicker at the befuddled expression and fails. He reaches over and gently pulls Wolfwood back. “It’s fine. Just be still. Vash will be back soon.”

There’s no fight in Wolfwood. He acquiesces with no fuss, head meeting Nai’s shoulder again with a tired sigh. “… thanks.”

Vash finds them that way a little while later. A door opens at the back of the house. Nai looks up, and a few moments later his brother peeks around the corner into the den. Vash visibly perks up in surprise when he spots the two of them on the couch. There’s something achingly tender in his smile as he comes closer.

Oh, don’t look at me like that, Nai huffs grumpily. Go get his pills. He should have taken them half an hour ago.

The smile does not leave his brother’s face. Instead, Vash pads quietly up and puts a gentle hand on Wolfwood’s arm. “Hey, Nick?”

Wolfwood blinks awake and slowly raises his head off Nai’s shoulder. “Hmm?”

“Hey. It’s time for your meds. I’ll make you a snack so you can take them, and then why don’t we go lay down for a while? Looks like you could use a nap, and I think I could, too.”

That earns a groan that sounds like it comes up from the vicinity of Wolfwood’s knees. “You’re tyin’a kill me with these stairs, Needle Noggin.” But the promise of sweet, sweet pain relief seems to be too good to resist, and he holds out his good hand to be helped up.

Between the twins, they get him off the couch with only a little difficulty. As they do, Vash sends Nai a look. Rem wants to talk to you.

The fact that he didn’t say it aloud means that it involves the current situation with Wolfwood somehow. Nai nods casually as the two head for the kitchen. Sure.

And she asked if you could bring her the tool kit. Oh, but maybe wait until I get Nick upstairs to do that.

Oh god. Eyebrows immediately reaching for the sky, Nai almost doesn’t want to know what’s going on in their mother’s head. Luckily Wolfwood doesn’t notice, since he can now apparently tell when the two of them are talking without talking. That should also be at least somewhat alarming, but not only has he been Vash’s closest friend for years, he’s obviously going to be Nai’s brother-in-law someday—practically family. It’s probably fine. Probably.

Once Vash and Wolfwood have gone upstairs, Nai grabs the tool kit from the garage and heads for Rem’s office. The door is half open, so he steps in without preamble and holds up the canvas case. “I suppose I should make sure you’re not planning to murder anyone with a hammer before I give this to you.”

Rem glances up from where she’s knelt on the floor, pulling files and office supplies out of the drawers of the large computer desk that takes up one wall of the room. “And I suppose I, as a responsible parent, should tell you that murder isn’t a solution to our problems.” She closes a now-empty drawer, hard. “But damn would it feel good sometimes.”

He hands her the tool kit and drops down on the edge of the daybed that takes up most of the rest of the room. “Vash told you about Wolfwood.”

Rem looks both angry and tired. “Mm-hmm. I suspected, after how he reacted yesterday, but I hoped so hard it was a one-time incident. Or at least a recent problem. Not…” She flaps a helpless little all-encompassing hand gesture.

“He hid it well.” Nai knows she’s blaming herself for not suspecting that something was so wrong sooner. “Even Vash and I never realized. He made sure of it.” So many guys their own age pick fights with Wolfwood so often that he’s always had a ready and believable explanation for any visible bruises and limps. “I suppose we—he—can’t press charges?”

“Not easily, I’m afraid.” She sighs unhappily. “It wouldn’t be impossible, with the court records from when he was a child, but if there were never any complaints or investigations against his father in the time since he was placed back there… Plus, Nicholas is an adult now in the eyes of the law. If he started this last fight, even under emotional duress, I’m sure there’s some scumbag lawyer out there who would argue that he was at fault, regardless of any previous abuse.”

Nai immediately thinks of Mr. Bluesummers, whom he has personally heard boasting that he could ‘make the Devil look innocent for the right price,’ and sneers. “I figured.”

Rem stretches to squeeze his knee from her spot on the floor. “I know. It’s not fair and I hate it, too. If worse comes to worse, of course we’ll do whatever needs to be done, but unless this guy is a blistering moron, he knows he was in the wrong and he’ll just let Nicholas go. We can help him look toward the future.”

“And that’s why you’re about to dismantle your work desk.”

She beams at him, pulling a ratchet out of the tool kit. “I’m glad you understand. This old thing is a behemoth—we’d never get it upstairs in one piece. Getting it out of here will really open up the room. I’ll order a smaller desk for Nicholas.”

Nai sighs deeply. Keenly aware that life is never going to be the same again, and yet awash with strange relief, he looks up at the slightly dusty ceiling fan for inspiration. “He’s also going to need a bank account in his own name, and we need to add him to our phone plan.”

In another moment, Rem is on her feet and he’s being wrapped in a tight hug, one that reassures him that he doesn’t completely suck at being a decent human being. Thankfully she doesn’t say anything (she knows him far too well) but the message is clear. He only grumbles a little as she lands a kiss on his forehead. “Let’s get started,” she says instead. “I sent Vash to make sure he and Nicholas rest for a while. They need it and it should give you and I time to get things rearranged. I have a feeling Nick would try to argue if he knew, so I want this room to be a surprise.”

“Maybe add a new blanket to that desk order,” Nai suggests wryly, glancing down at the flowery daybed comforter he’s sitting on as she releases her loving stranglehold. “This one belongs in a country retirement home.”

Rem laughs in disbelief. “Luida gave us that comforter!”

“I said what I said.” Something else occurs then, and Nai looks up at her with wide eyes. “We won’t have a spare bed anymore. Does this mean we can finally ask Brad to stay at a hotel when he visits?”

“No, of course not,” Rem answers sweetly without missing a beat. “He’ll sleep in your room and you can sleep on the couch.”

“What? No! Why mine?”

“Because your brother’s room is a disaster area and yours is nice and clean. It’s only polite.” Then she bites her lip, finally unable to stem the giggles. “You love your Uncle Brad! Quit pretending you don’t like him so much, or you’ll actually manage to hurt his feelings.”

Nai groans, dropping his face into his hands. “Last time he was here he told thirty-eight dad jokes. Thirty-eight, Rem. When I told him I was traumatized, he said ‘hi traumatized, I’m Brad!’ That’s not—why are you laughing at your child’s mistreatment?”

“You. Me. Desk. Pronto.” She points at said desk with her ratchet, but she’s smiling again, and this smile seems like it will stick around for a while.

- // - // - // - // -

Nai and Rem successfully disassemble the desk. They carry the pieces up the stairs as quietly as they can and reassemble those pieces in Rem’s bedroom. Then they realize that the whole room needs rearranged to accommodate said desk and, also as quietly as they can, move all the other furniture. Nai becomes even more glad he chose the weightlifting elective. They carry up her computer, all of her office supplies and reference texts from the old office downstairs. Rem places a hefty mobile order for pickup at the nearest department store.

As planned, Vash and Wolfwood sleep through the whole production. Though Nai leaves a note on the kitchen counter just in case, they’re still not awake by the time he and Rem return from the store with a new flat pack desk, a small bookcase, a decent laptop, some better linens, and curtains without frilled ruffles for what is rapidly becoming Wolfwood’s new bedroom.

Somehow, between secret missions and gut-spilling and Rem’s long-distance research meeting, they’ve all managed to miss lunch. It’s almost time for dinner at this point, so Nai goes upstairs to check on the sleeping beauties. As has quickly become their norm, Vash and Wolfwood are wadded up together under the covers. Somehow Wolfwood looks almost small where he’s shielded against Vash’s chest. They’re stupidly endearing. Nai gives his twin a tentative mental poke and gets a barely-coherent grumble back.

“They’re still out cold,” he reports to Rem back down in the kitchen.

She smiles, distractedly poking around in the fridge. “Obviously they both need it.” A Tupperware bowl is brought forth and examined critically. “I think it’s going to be a leftover free-for-all this evening, anyway. They can eat whenever they get up. Looks like we’ve got enough curry left for maybe two servings…”

Nai is weighing the morality of getting to the curry before the other two wake up when his phone vibrates on the counter next to the car keys. He glances at it and an entirely new problem blooms into his consciousness.

//Nai, is everything okay?// It’s Meryl.

He frowns, thinks about ignoring her, then thinks better of that. If she gets no response there will be no peace. Considering his answer carefully, he replies. //Yes, of course.// It isn’t a lie, exactly. Right at this exact moment, everything is fine. Fine compared to how un-fine the last couple of days have been, anyway. //Why do you ask?//

//Vash is being cagey and he stopped answering my messages.//

Nai hasn’t given a thought to Meryl and Milly since they shut game night down early two evenings ago. He wonders now just how much Vash has relayed to them since then. They’d be worried to death if they thought that Wolfwood still hadn’t been in contact with anyone, so he’s willing to bet Vash told them something, but he highly doubts it was the whole story. He has to choose his words carefully. //Vash hasn’t been feeling well today and he’s lying down right now. I’m sure he’ll text you later.//

//You wouldn’t lie to me, right?//

//I swear I am not lying to you. Also, Vash will be charged a secretarial fee for all further messages that utilize my services as an intermediary and he will no doubt demand reimbursement for those fees from you in the form of donuts. Fair warning.//

//Jerkface. Have a good night.//

//You too.//

“Is something wrong, honey?”

Nai glances up at Rem’s question to find that she’s closed the refrigerator and come to stand beside him. “No. Why?”

“I couldn’t tell from this angle if that’s your ‘thinking really hard about something’ scowl or your ‘somebody getting on your nerves’ scowl.” Hands on her hips, she smiles fondly at him. “Are you okay?”

He waves her off. “It’s nothing. Meryl is getting suspicious that something is going on, that’s all. I think I put her off the trail for now.”

“That’s not what I asked. Are you okay?”

“Why wouldn’t I be?”

“Because I haven’t seen you relax since I got home yesterday morning.” Rem’s smile softens. She reaches up to gently stroke the creases on his forehead where his brows always furrow. “You’ve handled a lot this weekend. Vash can help me put the new desk together and get everything set up for Nick. Why don’t you humor me and try to do some self-care tonight?”

Self-care? Nai is an expert at self-care. He eats well, keeps a proper sleep schedule, has impeccable hygiene, exercises regularly, and stays hydrated. He tries not to let his skepticism show. “Such as?”

His skepticism is definitely showing because Rem sticks her tongue out at him and swats him on the shoulder. “I don’t know, something to help you relax! Go for a jog before it gets dark. Take one of my bath bombs, lay in the tub and read a book. Do something Vash would yell at you for in that video game you all like so much.”

He can’t help but snort. “I’ll leave the bath bombs to you, thanks.” But the mention of Gunsmoke reminds him of something, and an idea begins to sprout. “Actually, I think I may go out.”

Motherly worry clouds her face for a moment. “You’re not going to eat dinner?”

“Go out to get food,” Nai clarifies, unlocking his phone again. “I suddenly feel like I might owe an accomplice something greasy and heart attack-inducing.”

Just like that, the worry is gone and Rem laughs, patting him lovingly on the arm she so recently swatted. “Sounds fun. Don’t get poor Legato in trouble. And let me know if you decide to spend the night.”

“Me? Trouble? Surely you jest.” As Rem busies herself firing up the rice cooker, Nai sends a message to his partner in crime. //Have you been outside since Friday, and have you eaten real food today?//

True to loyal partner in crime form, Legato responds quickly. //… no. But Pop-Tarts count as real food, correct?//

//We have had several discussions about the benefits of vitamin D. And no, very very incorrect. Be ready in fifteen minutes.//

Chapter Text

Without needing to be told, Legato is waiting outside the entrance of the pretentious gated community where his family lives. The first thing he does after folding himself obediently into the car is glance at Nai and then do a double take. “Are you alright?”

Damn it. Two people asking that in the span of thirty minutes must mean something. Nai grabs the rearview mirror and makes an irritated face at his own reflection. If nothing else, the dark smudges under his eyes are less obvious than yesterday. “Do I honestly look that bad?”

“Ah. Not bad, exactly. Just…”

“Stressed?” Nai guesses wryly as he pulls back onto the street and points them in the direction of the nearest fast food.

“Slightly less than relaxed.”

“It’s been an eventful weekend,” Nai allows evasively. “So—food that isn’t Pop-Tarts. What about a cheeseburger? Would you like a cheeseburger?”

The diversionary tactic seems to work. Legato visibly perks up, brightening like a normal person would if they were offered lobster and filet mignon. He loves junk food more than anyone Nai has ever met, and his sweet tooth is rivaled only by Vash’s. (Milly is a close third.) It makes bribery and rewards painfully easy. “Of course. What’s the occasion?”

“Do we need an occasion?”

One golden eye watches him expectantly.

“Okay, fine,” Nai grumbles a bit sullenly. “Apparently Rem thought I needed to get out of the house. And… I appreciate that you were willing to stay awake until practically dawn indulging in virtual arson and larceny. I needed the distraction.”

The admission earns a small, pleased smile. “Of course. Anytime. Does that mean the ‘incident’ resolved?”

“… for the most part.”

Thankfully Legato seems content to leave it at that. He’s always been quiet and he doesn’t pry, letting Nai tell him things on his own time—or not. It’s one of his best qualities, in Nai’s humble opinion.

The parking lot is more crowded than expected for a Sunday evening when they arrive at their destination a few minutes later. Likely the occurrence of spring break for most of the local schools has something to do with it. They share a glance, come to the simultaneous conclusion that there are far too many people to make eating inside enjoyable in any way, and Nai steers directly to the drive-thru.

“Hello, yes, I’d like two large number one combos with everything, one with fries and the other with onion rings; two waters—” he may be willing to compromise on what ‘real food’ means to a certain degree, but he draws the line at staying properly hydrated, “—and a large strawberry milkshake. Do not skimp on the napkins and ketchup packets.”

Legato stares as the harried cashier gives the total and they pull past the speaker, blank emo neutrality suddenly replaced by clear bewilderment. “What is happening?”

Nai huffs, struggling to fish his wallet out of his back pocket without fracturing his pelvis on the steering wheel. For as tall as he and Vash are, their car does not offer ideal leg room. “What do you mean, ‘what’s happening?’ It’s more than obvious that we’re having dinner!”

“You didn’t order a grilled chicken wrap and a side salad.” For as well as Nai knows Legato’s tastes, that knowledge is a two-way street. “Something’s wrong.” He’s not even fretting like usual and trying to pay for everything with the frankly stupid amount of allowance his parents throw at him in a poor effort to make up for largely ignoring his existence otherwise. “What’s bothering you?”

Rolling down the window and slapping his debit card into the cashier’s hand gives Nai a moment to decide what to do. Clearly he’s still more keyed up than he’d thought, if it’s so obvious that Legato is willing to call him on it. He doesn’t want Legato to worry (they’re best friends, after all) and he certainly trusts Legato to keep his mouth shut (probably more so than anyone else he knows), but he also doesn’t want to betray Wolfwood’s trust by sharing information that it isn’t his place to share. Nai may be perfectly capable of being an asshole, but he endeavors not to be one to those privileged few in his inner circle.

“If I tell you,” he grumbles, stuffing the card back into his wallet and the wallet into the dash cubby rather than trying to get it back into his pocket, “you will be sworn to secrecy.”

“Of course.”

“Complete and utter secrecy. No one else knows and no one else will know at this time. Not even Milly and Meryl.”

Legato nods frantically as the drinks are passed into the car and Nai unceremoniously hands them off to him, the fall of his hair tickling his face and making him blow at it unconsciously as he tries to match cup holders with too many cups. “I understand.”

The first wave of onion ring aroma enters the car along with the greasy paper bag and Nai is abruptly ravenous. With great willpower, he gives over the bag to Legato’s custody and pulls away from the window. “Alright. But we’re getting situated first.”

There is a relatively undisturbed space at the far corner of the lot. Once safely parked, they unpack their spoils. Nai has an onion ring in his mouth before he even takes his seatbelt off. Fast food that isn’t grilled always feels vaguely like personal defeat—cholesterol, sodium, preservatives, saturated fats—but defeat tastes damned delicious. Cheeseburgers also mean protein, though, and iron, and the slightest hint of ketchup-drenched vegetable; all things that Legato will never not need more of, so that part at least is a win.

Legato pauses with his burger halfway to his mouth. “We still don’t let your brother know we eat in the car, correct?”

“Very, very correct,” Nai confirms around another onion ring. The no-eating-in-the-car mandate had been enacted after one too many incidents of donut frosting on the radio buttons and crumbs in the seats, but in order for Vash to abide by it, Nai had to swear to do the same.

With a hum of acknowledgement, Legato blows his hair out of his face once more and takes an approving bite. Nai makes a mental note to corner him and trim it soon. A little water, a little sunlight, some proper nutrients, occasional pruning—not terribly different from maintaining a houseplant, really.

Once he’s a little less hungry and had a minute to decide what he wants to say, Nai puts down what’s left of his burger and bites the proverbial bullet. “So. Without divulging too many personal details, Wolfwood was in a fairly severe altercation Friday evening. That’s what shut down game night. He was badly hurt, came to Vash and I for help, and has been at our house since then. And he’ll be staying with us. Permanently.” He refuses to consider a scenario where Wolfwood sees the bedroom Rem is orchestrating and turns them down.

“… oh. I see.” After a moment of startled stillness, Legato takes a long, thoughtful drink of milkshake. “Is that a good thing or a bad thing? Not that he’s injured, that’s obviously bad, but the moving in with you part.”

“A good thing,” Nai confirms immediately. The napkin in his hand gets slowly crumpled into a tight little ball as his mind returns to that shit-hole apartment without his conscious permission. “A very good thing.” Then he drops the napkin with a blink, suddenly aware of Legato’s curious stare. “Because of Vash, naturally. Vash has been worried sick over Wolfwood all weekend.”

“And you’ve been worried for your brother, of course.”

“Of course.” Nai shoots him a squinty, somewhat suspicious look, but Legato’s expression is still placidly neutral. “It will be much easier to make sure Wolfwood stays out of trouble if he’s sharing our living space.”

“Trouble does have a way of finding him, doesn’t it.” To anyone else Legato might sound almost bored, but by now Nai has a master’s degree in emo-ology. He can dredge out the undercurrent of grudging empathy.

Those two get along with each other the least out of their whole friend group, mostly because their personalities are usually in direct opposition. In so many ways the two of them couldn’t be more different. But the way their peers had treated both Wolfwood (darker skin, secondhand clothes, not enough money) and Legato (weird hair, weird eyes, too much money) for most of their childhoods and early teen years had been almost exactly the same. Where one of them had weathered that antagonism with resigned acceptance, however, the other had chosen instead to meet it with bared teeth and clenched fists. The bullying had only gotten less severe during those first few months of high school when their group coalesced into what it is now. Safety in numbers.

“Correct. So if you could operate as if absolutely nothing has happened the next time you two interact, that would be ideal.”

“You mean Wolfwood hasn’t always lived with you? Strange, I hadn’t noticed.”

“Exactly.” Nai knew he could count on Legato. He always can. Considering the unpleasant conversation finished, he sees to what’s left of his burger. “So, how was your weekend?”

Legato shrugs, the pointy silver studs on the shoulders of his favorite jacket glinting as the parking lot’s lights suddenly kick on in the dusk and illuminate part of the car interior. “Bland. Most of yesterday was sleeping in and then researching financial advisors.”

Nai still feels the slightest bit guilty over disrupting his friend’s rest so thoroughly, but what’s done is done. “One does what one must. How’s the account acquisition going?” He knows Legato has been subtly ferreting out all the savings and investment accounts that his parents and various elderly relatives started on his behalf when he was a baby. Now that he’s of age, he wants his parents scrubbed off of said accounts—one less thread tying him to them.

“Very well, actually. There is one that’s locked with the stipulation that the funds can only be used for higher education, otherwise I can’t touch it until I’m twenty-four. But I think I’ve finally got all of the others transferred and consolidated.”

Nai nods approvingly. If only Vash was that proactive with filling out their SEEDS summer internship documents. “I know it’s none of my business, but morbid curiosity begs the question. How much did it all come to?”

With a polite ‘wait a moment’ gesture, Legato wipes the salt and fry grease off his hands and pulls out his phone. While he is presumably looking up that information, Nai helps himself to some milkshake. (Vash tends to get grumpy with him when he “won’t just admit he wants sugar and steals it from other people,” but Legato never does.) After half a minute and a few password entries, Legato obligingly shows him the screen.

Nai does not choke at the numbers he sees, but he does forget to swallow for a few seconds. “That’s ridiculous,” he manages with some difficulty, thumping a fist on his sternum.

“Completely ridiculous,” Legato agrees easily. His grandparents clearly weren’t exaggerating about coming from old money. “And now that it’s all in my name, I don’t have to worry about any of it being seized if either of them wind up in prison for obstruction of justice, or something. I’ve been reading up on investing. If I handle this right, I’ll be able to find a career I don’t hate and not have to worry about what it pays. And no investing in fossil fuels,” he promises before Nai can even open his mouth. “I do listen when you rant.”

“You’re frighteningly competent when you apply the effort.” Nai deftly steals a french fry. “How is it that you can pull off flawless schemes like that but you can’t remember to touch grass and feed yourself from each of the food groups?”

Mouth suddenly, conveniently full, Legato mumbles something unintelligible and avoids eye contact.

- // - // - // - // -

Rather than tossing Legato out when they get back to his neighborhood, Nai punches in the gate code and parks in the Bluesummers’ driveway. Though he hasn’t explicitly been asked to stay and hang out, his standing invitation is well understood. Part of him can’t help but feel like he should go home anyway, just in case, but logic wins the day.

Everything is fine. Wolfwood has his possessions, got some toxic waste off his chest, and should now be able to rest and heal properly. Vash will help Rem put the new desk together, set up the laptop, and spruce up Wolfwood’s new room. It’s fine. They’ll call Nai if they need him.

As the car doors shut, a nasally warning snarl rises from the shrubberies that line the chain link fence separating the back lawn from the driveway. Nai tosses the onion ring he’s saved for this purpose over the fence and the growling stops instantly—hush money to keep Mrs. Bluesummers’ little ankle biter from alerting the whole neighborhood to their presence. “Hello, Prince. Unpleasant as always, I see.”

Legato mutters something vaguely murderous as he pulls out his keys to unlock the side door of the garage.

Supposedly six vehicles will fit in there, but the most Nai has ever seen is four; an ever-rotating assortment of expensive cars that cost more than many people’s houses, but will all scratch and dent just as easily as the twins’ little Prius. The two pick their way between the classic Jaguar and the Lamborghini. As always, intrusive thoughts beg Nai to drag something sharp along the paint. Thankfully he is well practiced at ignoring the urge and follows Legato up the stairs at the back.

For his thirteenth birthday Legato had asked to move his bedroom to the loft over the garage. It had originally been planned as a space for entertaining that had never been used for anything but storage—Mr. and Mrs. Bluesummers are away far more often than they’re actually at home. When Legato moved into it, they had added plumbing; a water heater downstairs and a half bath to the loft. Somewhere along the line he acquired a microwave and a mini-fridge. If he never had to do laundry, he wouldn’t need to go inside the house at all at this point. Sometimes, on especially grumpy days, Nai can see the appeal.

Legato unlocks a second door at the top of the stairs (Nai knows where both sets of spare keys are hidden) and they leave the comparative cold of the main garage for the warmth beyond.

“Oh, the anthurium is blooming,” Nai notes immediately when the light is flipped on. “I’m surprised that one made it.”

When they first met, Legato didn’t care about plants at all—he’d just been hiding out in the science and agricultural classes’ shared greenhouse during the lunch hour because it was empty and quiet. He had learned fast, though. All the cuttings and trimmings and offshoots that Nai “liberated” from the greenhouse and pressed upon Legato when he ran out of space in the sunroom at home are still flourishing under surprisingly fastidious care in the introvert loft. There’s an absolute kraken of a pothos in a hanging pot near one of the windows, the first cutting Nai ever gave him, that’s now so big its tendrils have been trained along the drywall with a lattice of adhesive plastic hooks and reach from one end of the long room to the other. There are orchids, cacti, a pampered bromeliad, a monstera trying hard to earn its own zip code, and a small army of succulents. Though they all compete for space with an equal number of anime figurines and other bric-a-brac, the plants have turned the space into something of a cozy, green oasis.

Nai tosses Legato his coat, toes off his shoes by the door, and makes himself at home. “Just pretend like I’m not here and do whatever you were going to do before I messaged you.”

“Probably videogames,” Legato admits, hanging up the coat along with his own jacket. “Something low-key.”

“Perfect. You do that. Catch your Poké-creatures or arrange your tiny animal island. I’ll watch and allow my brain to melt out my ears.” Nai used to worry that it was strange to find watching such things soothing, as opposed to playing the games himself, until Vash showed him the seas of playthrough content on YouTube and the collective billions of views. Not that he indulges in any of it—he has a thousand more valuable ways to spend his time. (Unless they’re relaxing in the introvert loft and it’s Legato playing. That’s different.)

He makes a beeline across the room and grabs his blanket off the back of the couch. It’s silvery-pale grey, soft and plush like a chinchilla. He claimed it ages ago and now it never leaves its place, always ready whenever he wants it. He shakes out the blanket folds, reflexively picks up the throw pillow and checks behind it (the Tarantula Incident™ is why Zazie is still not allowed to bring any of their pet insects to anyone’s home under any circumstances) and unceremoniously sprawls out across the length of the couch.

If Legato is annoyed at him taking up every inch of space, he doesn’t show it. Instead he turns on the TV screen so Nai can see the game, rather than just using his handheld, and sits down with his back against the side of the couch instead. It means that Nai can also clearly see the clip Legato puts in a moment later to keep his hair out of his face now that they’re no longer out in public. It has a little blue plastic crab with a kawaii frowny face glued to it—the one Milly had very pointedly given him several semesters ago when they’d been paired up for a group project and she got fed up with not being able to see her partner’s face.

“Is Milly still the only real person allowed to visit your tiny animal island?” Nai asks as the game loads.

“Yes.”

Nai is fully prepared to initiate a conversation on the hypothetical merits of pre-programmed animated animals versus actual human beings in the face of antisocial tendencies when his phone chimes from across the room. He’s forgotten it in his coat pocket.

Legato looks back over his shoulder at him. “Would you like me to get that for you?”

“Well. I suppose you could.” Nai pulls the blanket tighter around himself a bit defensively. “I’m cozy.”

Hospitable to a fault, Legato puts down his controller, gets up, and fetches the phone for him. “Is there anything else I can get you? Water? A snack? Another pillow?”

“Nothing for now.” Nai unwraps just enough to accept his phone, feeling a bit spoiled. He probably shouldn’t let Legato wait on him like this. They’ve been friends far too long for him to still qualify as a ‘guest’ worthy of such effort. But a deeply buried part of him—the big brother, the reliable, responsible, dependable, competent, efficient part of him that has everything under control at all times and always spoils his younger brother rather than ever being the one spoiled himself—kind of likes it. “You know, if you’re stuck on career choices, you’d make an excellent butler.”

Looking rather pleased, Legato returns his attention to the game.

Nai unlocks the phone a bit warily. Normally he wouldn’t have bothered to answer it, but given current circumstances, keeping in contact with the outside world seems prudent. Thankfully, the text from Vash has nothing to do with any further trauma.

//You’re out somewhere eating, right? So the leftover curry is free game?//

//Yes. I purposefully left the curry for you. You’re welcome.//

//Thank you o magnanimous brother mine. We will savor every spoonful//

Nai snorts softly as he replies. //Smartass. How are things?//

//Things are good! But if Meryl texts you DON’T tell her anything -_-. //

//She already did, and I didn’t.//

//You’re the best! Say hi to Gato for me. Want me to tell Rem you’re spending the night?//

//No need. I’ll be home in an hour or two.//

//You’re gonna fall asleep on the couch//

//I am not going to fall asleep on the couch. See you later.//

Vash responds with a couch emoji and a string of Z’s. //Night night, Nai-Nai//

Contrary little shit. It’s not Nai’s fault that this couch is stupidly comfortable. And he doesn’t fall asleep on it every time. (Maybe every other time.) He extends one arm to put the phone on the floor and then wads up tighter in his blanket cocoon. “Vash said hello.”

Legato hums in acknowledgement. Thankfully, he and Vash get along pretty well—for the short bursts he can handle Vash’s exuberance. Legato’s tolerance for Vash’s golden retriever personality has grown over the years, as has Vash’s awareness for when he needs to rein himself in so he won’t chase the quiet boy off. Nai has also become a bit of an expert on when to step in and divert his brother’s attention, or simply drag Legato off somewhere he can breathe without going on the defensive. Some days Nai doesn’t know if he feels more like a ringleader or a babysitter, but his continual willingness to put up with their shenanigans must mean he’s pretty fond of the idiots.

All the tension left in his body slowly drains away as he watches Legato’s avatar patrol the beach on his little island and then visit the museum. How quaint. How soothing. Pixel-Legato gets a coffee from a talking bird at the museum café and strolls through the aquarium in the basement—almost certainly a bid to help Nai relax. It’s working. The soft blue atmosphere and gently swimming fish are hypnotic. Nai is warm. The couch is slowly assimilating his molecules into itself.

No. This is bad. He can’t fall asleep. He might still be needed at home. He’ll get up in a few minutes…

Nai drifts off into a dream of snorkeling in a giant fish tank with Vash and Wolfwood, Meryl banging on the glass as she demands they tell her what’s going on.

- // - // - // - // -

Panic lances through Nai’s ribcage like a lightning strike. He’s awake instantly. Bolting upright, he throws off the blanket he’s tangled up in and glances frantically around. Even as he does so, the flare of panic evaporates, replaced almost at once by a wash of soothing relief that’s directly at odds with his now-racing pulse. Still, it’s enough for him to gulp a breath and begin to process facts over raw emotion.

Fact one: he is still at Legato’s.

Fact two: he fell asleep. (Damn it.)

Fact three: Legato is no longer beside him, but there’s a crack of light under the door of the small bathroom by the stairs and Nai can hear the shower running, so all is well.

Fact four: there is absolutely no reason for Nai to have awoken suddenly in a panic, so that panic must not belong to him.

Whatever was so wrong a moment ago seems to have resolved itself already. Heart still beating hard, he texts Vash anyway. //What the hell was that?//

A reply chimes in a few minutes later. //Nothing! Sorry, I just didn’t know where Nick was for a second. I found him tho! Everything’s fine. Sorry, didn’t mean to make you worry//

Nai lets out a sigh of equal parts relief and annoyance. //You do realize that he has to use the restroom once in a while, correct?//

//Oh whatever! That’s rich coming from the world’s worst helicopter twin // WHO FELL ASLEEP ON THE COUCH//         

Why that little… //If we weren’t on the tail end of a group crisis I would come home immediately and shower you with a rain of stinging foam. However, you are still within the traumatic experience grace period so I’m willing to let it slide. This time.//

//Yeah, that’s what I thought!//

//Please try to keep further emotional outbursts to yourself. Unless you really need me. In that case, call. Goodnight, brother.//

Mind set at ease, Nai weighs his options as the sound of the shower cuts off. He checks the time. Late enough that he really, really doesn’t want to bother with going out in the cold and driving home. Not so late that Rem is already asleep, probably. Hoping this isn’t the night she finally decided to turn in at a responsible hour, he hits her contact.

Luckily, she answers on the third ring. //“Hi, honey! What’s up?”//

“I’ve decided to spend the night after all,” he tells her with great dignity.

//“Fell asleep on the couch again, huh?”//

Nai falls sideways across the accursed couch with a stifled groan of agony and drags a hand over his scowling face. “Yes. I fell asleep on the couch.”

Rem laughs brightly. //“Okay. Thanks for letting me know. I’m going to the lab in the morning, so I’ll see you tomorrow evening. Drive safe on your way home and call me if any of you need anything.”//

“I will. Goodnight.” Nai ends the call on her obnoxious kissy noises. Mothers. A double-edged sword if ever there was one. (He sends her a little heart emoji anyway.)

A few minutes later the bathroom door opens. Legato wanders out with a toothbrush in his mouth, hair towel-tousled and damp, dressed for bed. His pajama pants have little skulls on them.

Nai lobs the throw pillow at him petulantly. “You didn’t wake me up!”

Legato catches it easily. “You were tired,” is what he probably says around the toothbrush.

Grumbling, Nai hauls himself off the couch. At least he can appreciate his friend’s good intentions, even if he’ll never admit it. He digs through the dresser until he finds an acceptable t-shirt (the criteria is no anime characters) and sweatpants to steal. Thankfully, Legato finally hit a growth spurt at the end of sophomore year and they can share clothing in circumstances like this—even if the pant legs are a bit long on Nai now. (That the not-so-little traitor had the nerve to grow taller than him is still annoying, but what can you do.)

He takes his turn for a quick shower. The warm water leaves him mellow and more than ready to resume catching up on lost sleep, and he has a spare toothbrush in the caddy on the sink for just such occasions. Feeling acceptably clean and inoffensive, he leaves his carefully folded clothes on the couch for morning and unceremoniously shoves his way into bed beside Legato. If he wanted his bed to himself he should have woken Nai up earlier, so it serves him right.

There’s no protest, though. Legato scoots over obligingly and even fusses around with the covers until they’re both properly situated. Nai loops an ankle around Legato’s slightly bonier one for at least one point of contact and finally allows himself a quiet, contented sigh into the pillow. For the moment, all is right with the world.

Chapter Text

Nai is sleeping well and deeply. So he takes great offense to the noise trying to drag him back to the waking world.

“Turn it oooff,” he snarls, crankily attempting to burrow away from the incessant racket.

“Nai, that’s your alarm and I can’t turn it off if you don’t let me go.” It’s Legato’s slightly strained voice that brings him fully back to consciousness.

Nai blinks his eyes open with a start and tries to process what is occurring. To his dawning consternation, he realizes that he has, for the first time in memory, been cuddling someone in his sleep. And he is aggressively cuddling. He has his face buried in the nape of Legato’s neck, sleep-ruffled blue hair tickling his nose. Arms locked around his friend’s ribs, fingernails digging into his shirt, a leg pinning his knees to the bed—Legato is not getting up unless Nai lets him.

“…oh.” Slightly dumbstruck with surprise, he releases his victim.

Legato lunges out of bed, trips, nearly crashes into the potted monstera, but finally makes it over to where Nai’s phone is shrilling away from the floor by the couch. He grabs it, tosses it onto the bed within arm’s reach, and disappears into the bathroom before Nai can even turn off the ‘get up for school’ alarm.

Well. That’s slightly embarrassing. Nai rubs his face tiredly. Embarrassing and strange. The twins still share sleeping space all the time and the only complaint ever leveled against him is that he tends to kick and push Vash away in his sleep. Vash is the serial sleep-cuddler, not him.

Struck with sudden, deep suspicion, he reaches out as hard as he can to Vash across their connection. His little brother is still asleep, he realizes at once, but that doesn’t prevent Nai from being hit with a full-frontal wave of warm safe soft close Nico Nico Nico and he knows, without a doubt, that Vash is wrapped around Wolfwood right now, unconsciously holding him tight and basking in their closeness.

Why that sappy little…

Nai makes sure that the alarm is deactivated for the remainder of spring break and flops back down into the warm blankets and pillows. He can’t even manage to be truly irritated with all the backwash of good emotions settling in him like warm cocoa. Sure, he could put effort into trying to block Vash’s feels out, but feeling good is a nice change of pace after the last couple of very stressful days.

After a few minutes, Legato reemerges from the bathroom. His hair is brushed and his mask of emo-passivity is back in place as if he had never been so rudely awakened.

“Didn’t mean to hold you hostage,” Nai grumbles halfheartedly. “I must have been cold.”

“Yes, that must have been it. No harm done.” Thankfully Legato is gracious enough to leave it at that.

As much as Nai has griped and will surely continue to gripe at him to be more assertive, there’s something heartwarming in the knowledge that Legato would probably let him get away with literal murder. Or maybe that’s just the continuing echoes of twin-generated warm and fuzzies clouding his emotional judgement. Actually, yes, upon further reflection, that’s probably entirely what this is. Nai catches himself silently urging Legato to come back to the bed and has to mentally check himself before he wrecks himself.

Not the cuddly twin, he reminds himself sternly.

Luckily, he hasn’t suddenly developed mind control powers. Legato carries on with his morning, and Nai grudgingly drags himself out of the warm spot to do the same. It’s high time he gets home. But first...

“Sit,” he orders, pointing to the chair at the computer desk.

Legato does as he’s bidden without question. Nai grabs the small wastebasket off the floor beside the desk and a pair of scissors from the bathroom. Legato holds the trashcan as Nai makes quick work of trimming the hair that hangs over his face. He’s gotten rather good at it over the years. The strands are clean and smooth, slipping easily through his fingers as he shifts and snips. Legato takes good care of his hair, despite how much he dislikes its color for singling him out.

One summer they had tried to dye it. Turns out that whatever genetic quirk gives his hair its color also makes it incredibly resistant to dye chemicals—it had turned a shade or two darker blue, but nowhere near the black they were going for. It hadn’t even been cheap dye. Not wanting to waste it, Nai had spontaneously used what was left in the bottle on his own hair. Rem and Vash had gone through the motions of a minor heart attack when he’d turned up at home that evening with no warning whatsoever, announced with complete seriousness that he was going goth, and insisted that henceforth he would be referred to as Knives. He’d had them fully convinced for a good minute and a half before he’d finally been unable to keep their twin connection closed, cracked up, and gave the game away. It’s a treasured memory that will live fondly in his heart forever. (Because, y’know. Evil twin.)

“Better,” Nai pronounces, setting the scissors aside and giving his handiwork a once-over. The cut seems reasonably straight. He combs the ridiculously soft and silky strands with his fingers to be sure.

Legato’s golden eyes close in seeming contentment and Nai holds back a snort of amusement. Pet emo, indeed. If he indulges in said petting for a few seconds longer than strictly necessary, no one can prove anything. And clearly that’s all Vash’s lingering influence, anyway. Clearly.

- // - // - // - // -

Unsurprisingly, Vash and Wolfwood are still sleeping when Nai gets home. Kuro greets him at the door, though. She hasn’t gotten nearly as much attention from Vash these past couple days as she’s accustomed to. No one is around to bear witness, so Nai spends a minute or two loving on the needy little thing before he decides to take a look at the new bedroom.

Considering the short notice they had to put everything together, the room doesn’t look bad. The new bedspread and curtains, both calming shades of blue, are miles better than what they replaced. The desk, plain but serviceable, is assembled with the new laptop unboxed and charging on top of it. The small two-shelf bookcase stands by the bed, doubling as a nightstand with a lamp Rem must have pulled out of storage. The closet has been emptied of all the accumulated junk that should probably be donated to charity. All in all, the space is not terrible, even if it still seems a bit bare.

After a moment of contemplation, Nai goes out to the sunroom and brings in a miniature fig. He puts it in the corner between the two windows where it will get some good indirect light. And a little succulent, which he leaves on the back corner of the desk. That looks at least a bit more welcoming. Wolfwood can take it from there and make the place his own. Maybe hang some posters or something.

The sun is finally shining again, so Nai takes the opportunity to go for an early run. By the time he loops back around to the house and showers, he can feel Vash stirring upstairs. That’s his cue to start breakfast.

“Good morning, Sunshine,” he deadpans as Vash shuffles into the kitchen a while later.

“G’morning.” Vash yawns hugely. “You’re home early.”

Nai declines to comment. “Eggs?”

“Sunny side up, please!” Order placed, his brother busies himself setting out Wolfwood’s morning pills.

“Is Wolfwood awake and should I be making him some as well?” Without waiting for an answer, Nai collects three plates from the cabinet. Wolfwood will have to choke something down eventually in order to take his medication.

“Yeah, he’s taking a shower.” After setting out the pills and a glass of water at the table in preparation for their friend’s appearance, Vash slumps down at the breakfast bar to watch Nai cook. “Could you do scrambled eggs for him again? And maybe one piece of toast, too? I think eating is starting to hurt him less, but I don’t wanna push it.”

Nai nods and pulls out the bread bag. It’s half empty, just like the milk, and he’s using the last of the eggs; they’ll need to get a few groceries in the next day or two. Especially with the size of their household increasing by one. “I saw the office. Wolfwood’s room, I mean.”

“What do you think?” Vash asks, drumming his fingers restlessly on the countertop. “Will he like it?”

“I think anything we’re able to offer will seem like the Ritz-Carlton compared to the conditions he’s been forced to make do with,” Nai says bluntly. “It’s plain, but adequate. We can take him shopping for some personal effects once he’s feeling up to it.” He loads bread into the toaster. “When are you going to show him?”

“After breakfast, I guess.”

One pale brow quirks. “You guess? Where’s your enthusiasm?”

His little brother fidgets uncomfortably, little bubbles of anxiety beginning to simmer just under the surface of their connection. “I dunno, I just—I just want Nick to like it! I want him to want to stay with us!” Vash slumps to rest his chin forlornly on the countertop. “And I want Livio to not hate me!”

Nai calmly cracks the eggs meant for himself and Vash into the sizzling skillet. “Who is Livio and why would he hate you?”

“He’s Nick’s brother. We talked to him last night—”

“Wolfwood has a sibling?”

“Well, y’know, not a biological brother.” Vash makes a vague hand gesture. “And not really adopted siblings either, not legally, but. They chose each other. When they were kids. Liv’s family moved away the year before we came here. He’s out in Cali now.”

Ah. Found family. That, at least, is easy enough to understand. “I see. And why would he dislike you?”

“Nick called last night to let Livio know that he’s somewhere safe and we’re taking care of him.” Vash taps his index fingers together nervously. “And, uh. Liv made it pretty clear that Nick better stay safe and taken care of. Or I might have to change my name and go on the run.”

Nai scowls, snatching the butter knife as the toast pops up. He should have anticipated that any chosen brother of Wolfwood’s would share his proclivities for being a delinquent. “I don’t think I care for this punk’s attitude.”

“Wha?! Livio isn’t a punk!”

“He threatened you!”

Vash rolls his eyes. “Oh, like you wouldn’t totally threaten somebody’s life if it was me in trouble and you were stuck clear across the country and couldn’t get to me.”

Nai pauses and very slowly closes his mouth, aggressively buttering a defenseless slice. “…point.”

“Don’t put holes in my toast!” Vash yelps, leaning over the counter to swat futilely at him. “So yeah, I really want to get along with Livio, same as I want you and Nick to get along.”

“You want the entire world to get along.” Deftly sliding half of the eggs (perfectly sunny side up) onto two pieces of plated toast, Nai hands them off to his twin. “I wouldn’t worry. If this brother of his knows what Wolfwood has been through, he’s probably just upset that he can’t be here to help him himself.” If it were Nai in those shoes, he’d be using them to walk to his brother’s side from California, but that’s neither here nor there. “Given time, I’m sure you’ll win him over. You managed to earn even Legato’s esteem, after all. If you can make friends with him, you can make friends with anyone.”

 Vash giggles a little at that. “What did you guys do last night? Anything fun?”

“More relaxing than anything,” Nai says a bit sourly as he plates his own eggs (over easy). He hates to admit it, but Rem had been right about him needing to decompress. “I suspect that was orchestrated. Apparently I was a little tense.”

Vash beams. He takes a huge bite of toast and egg. “Legato really looks out for you, doesn’t he?”

“Don’t talk with your mouth full,” Nai orders.

It isn’t too long before Wolfwood makes his slow, limping way down the stairs to join them. Going into day three after receiving them, the bruises on his face are uglier than ever—but the swelling has receded noticeably. It’s good to see at least that obvious sign of healing. Nai sets aside his empty plate and starts cracking Wolfwood’s eggs.

“Ready for breakfast?” Vash chirps. The little pep talk, such as it was, seems to have eased his nerves. 

Wolfwood shuffles over to scope what’s on offer. “Yeah, sure. Thanks.”

The response is a little lackluster, but Nai can’t bring himself to truly blame him. Being relegated to nothing but soft foods gets old real fast. (He remembers that much from the wisdom teeth debacle.) “How does your throat feel today?” he asks.

Wolfwood looks vaguely surprised at the query. “S’okay. Lot better than it was.”

Nodding, Nai pulls the bottle of tabasco from the condiment shelf in the fridge door and waves it enticingly. “Better enough for this? We also have salsa.”

“Oh, thank fuck,” Wolfwood groans like a lost Death Valley prospector stumbling across an oasis. “Yes please. Gimme the weak-ass mild salsa, too—I’ll take anything at this point.”

Vash laughs delightedly. “We can get some chiles next time we go to the store.”

“Just because our taste buds haven’t been burned off yet,” Nai grumbles. But it’s good to see a bit of Wolfwood’s personality trickling back. The catharsis from last night must have really done him good. He hands off the salsa and tabasco, along with the bag of shred cheese and an avocado, to Vash to take to the table and returns to the stove.

It’s rather painfully domestic when they all settle at the table a few minutes later. Wolfwood doctors his eggs into something less bland and digs into them with as much gusto as he can with only one good hand and a mouth that’s still sore. The twins nurse matching mugs of coffee (one horrifically sweeter than the other). The sun shines and the springtime birds chirp and they aren’t stuck at uncomfortably small desks under artificial light. Is this how every morning could pan out when they start college this fall and get to plan their own class schedules? Nai allows himself to hope.

“What are your plans for today, Nai?” Vash asks. Nervous energy hums through their twin bond.

“Water the plants. Maybe go to the garden center. Some of them are going to need repotted soon and I’m out of potting soil. Again.” He also needs to finish pruning; that endeavor had been abandoned the day before in favor of ferrying Wolfwood to the apartment for his things. All of that should pass a pleasant few hours. “Later I’ll probably work on the paper.”

Vash perks up from rolling his mug between his palms. “Oooh, the paper?”

Nai allows himself a smirk. “The paper.”

“What the hell kinda paper are you two talkin’ about?” Wolfwood asks. He’s worrying at the solitary slice of toast on his plate, tearing it into easily edible little pieces. The tabasco sauce miasma has drifted clear to the opposite side of the table.

“I’m writing a paper disproving the research of one of Rem’s coworkers,” Nai tells him matter-of-factly. “It’s a bit of a pet project of mine.”

Wolfwood blinks. “Doesn’t she work with world-renowned scientists and genius bio-engineers or something?”

“For the most part. The great majority of her colleagues are incredibly intelligent, conscientious, and a credit to the scientific community.” His lip curls scornfully before he can lock in the resting bitch face. “And then there’s Steve.”

Vash huffs over the lip of his mug. “Screw Steve.”

“Wow,” Wolfwood laughs, choking a little on a bite of toast in his surprise. “It takes a lot for you to say somethin’ like that about somebody, Needle Noggin. This dude must be pretty terrible.”

“He is not a good person,” Vash confirms primly.

Nai snorts. “He’s a slimy, egotistical—mmmph!”

“Okay, okay,” Vash shushes, one hand clapped firmly over Nai’s mouth. “We don’t need to get all the way into it right now.” He laughs awkwardly at Wolfwood, who is blatantly staring at them both. “Sorry about that. We have strong opinions on the subject. I’ll fill you in later.”

Nai’s eyes narrow over the restrictive hand. Wolfwood will get the full anti-Steve sermon at some point. But he is willing to give it a raincheck in deference to more pressing matters. Shoving Vash’s hand away, he rises. “Well, I’ll leave you two to it, then. I’ll be in the sunroom if you need me.” Dropping off his empty mug at the sink, he shoots his brother an encouraging nudge through their connection. That’s your cue. Good luck.

Gee, thanks. Vash squirms a little with pent up nerves. “Uh, hey, Nick? When you’re done eating, I wanna show you something!”

Wolfwood raises a brow. “Yeah, sure. Not like I got anywhere else to be, right?”

Nai pulls back from their bond just enough to stay clear of the low-key anxiety and heads for the back of the house. It’s all in Vash’s hands now. Hopefully today won’t prove to be one of his clumsier ones.

- // - // - // - // -

He’s kneeling on the floor in the sunroom, deeply engrossed in tidying up Rem’s potted geraniums, when it happens.

The feeling hits him out of nowhere like a mule kick to the chest. Nai actually wheezes, clutching the front of his shirt in panic—is he having some kind of cardiac event?! Before he can keel over right there on the floor next to the wooden planter boxes, the shock is replaced by a wave of what can only be described as euphoria. It’s like being suddenly submerged in a warm bath, shimmering bubbles of joy fizzing and popping through his connection with Vash and settling lighter than air behind his ribcage.

Nai blinks rapidly. Oh. Oh. Now he understands.

It’s happening. After six long months, it’s finally happening.

He surges up off the floor, grabs his phone off the cushion of the wicker loveseat, and power walks through the house. The door of Rem’s former office is open. He pauses outside, swipes to a tab he’s had open for at least four and a half of the last six months, and thrusts the phone past the threshold.

Vash’s lips tear away from his best friend’s to emit a shrill ‘eep!’ of surprise as the Hallelujah chorus rings out with full orchestral accompaniment.

“What the actual fuck—?!” Wolfwood yells, flailing to peel himself away from Vash where they’ve sprawled sideways across the bed.

“It’s about damn time,” Nai yells back, allowing every ounce of the smugness he feels into his tone and his smile.

Wolfwood’s mouth drops open. For once, it seems he can summon no words. Instead, after a moment of shocked stillness, his non-splinted hand whips up and he gives Nai the firmest middle finger he’s seen in weeks. After the almost eerie lack of balls and sass he’s displayed all weekend, the rude gesture is positively refreshing. Looks like they’ve got their hellion back.

Vash shoves himself off the bed. He stomps to the door, face red as his hoodie, and closes it firmly in Nai’s face.

Nai laughs for a solid thirty seconds. But he has the decency to do it while walking away.

- // - // - // - // -

The garden center is a madhouse. Ridiculously busy for a Monday afternoon. Nai gets what he needs as quickly as possible, trying to avoid the worst of the crowd. He nearly trips over a flock of resin lawn gnomes knocked down like bowling pins by some unattended children, their parents preoccupied loading a cart down with mulch and paving stones. This is why he’s never fully committed to the idea of a summer job here.

In line to pay with his own cart of soil and pots and two new project plants, he gets a text from Vash. A selfie, more precisely, of a sinister figure (who is very obviously his brother) in a ski mask with Nai’s favorite African violet held over his head. Another hand (which is very obviously Wolfwood’s un-fractured one) reaches in from off screen holding a lighter threateningly near the tender buds.

//Apologize for interrupting a touching moment or Flora gets it!!!//

Nai scowls at the juvenile display. //You and I will have a very touching moment when I get home if you don’t PUT THAT DOWN IMMEDIATELY.// Not that he thinks either of them would ever actually purposefully damage his plants, but he’s contractually obligated to return fire when they give him shit. //Also, lest we forget, you two should be offering me a formal apology for not listening to me when I tried to facilitate you getting together literally half a year ago. I am allowed to gloat.//

His phone remains pointedly silent thereafter. However, when he arrives home and takes his purchases out to the sunroom, he finds that the entirety of his plant collection has been rearranged. The violet is nowhere to be seen, and his mental shriek of frustration is met by a very smug little ripple from Vash. Nai resolves to interrupt all of their makeout sessions henceforth. Every. Single. One.

An hour later, Nai has all his plants back where they belong. (The violet was hidden in plain sight among some cacti). After watering, repotting those that need it, and finishing the pruning job from yesterday, he feels more charitable. Enough so that he doesn’t feel the need to start a NERF battle when he goes back inside the house to wash up. Ambient happiness from Vash’s side of their connection promises that both of them will be in a better than average mood for a while.

Vash is humming loudly in the kitchen. Wolfwood, meanwhile, has been set up on the couch in the den. That’s clearly Vash’s doing, based on the fact that he has been tucked in with Vash’s favorite blanket and three pillows. His phone, the remote, and a glass of juice (complete with curly straw) are on the coffee table near at hand. Kuro is making biscuits on the blanket approximately where Wolfwood’s stomach must be.

From the kitchen, the oven pre-heat timer beeps. Mixing bowls clatter. The silverware drawer bangs shut.

“What is he doing in there?” Nai asks, not sure he wants to know. It’s not that Vash doesn’t know how to cook; it’s just that what he doesn’t accidentally fumble and drop, he tends to allow to go up in smoke while he spaces out.

“Said he’s makin’ lasagna for dinner.” Wolfwood looks slightly disgruntled. “Wouldn’t let me help.”

They only make lasagna from scratch on special occasions, like Rem’s birthday. Or new additions to the family, apparently. “… I’ll be on standby if the smoke alarm goes off. You should be resting.”

Wolfwood rolls his eyes and deflates back into the pillows. “Thanks, Mom.”

“You’re welcome, dear,” Nai says flatly, and contemplates stealing the remote from him to check the weather forecast. If the week looks decent, a long, relaxing walk at the nearest state park to see the spring wildflowers might be nice.

“Uh. Hey.” Wolfwood looks oddly awkward when Nai glances back at him questioningly. “So. You were actually serious. Last year when you said Vash liked me and tried to get me to confess to him.”

“Loved you,” Nai corrects. He does not succeed in keeping a rather smug smile off his face. “I was. As evidenced by the ‘touching moment’ you shared earlier.”

Wolfwood stares at the ceiling like he can’t quite trust reality. His good hand absently strokes Kuro where she’s meatloafed on his middle; the purring can be heard across the room. “I thought you were just fuckin’ with me. I was so pissed at you for that.”

“I noticed. You running off with the flower money was a big tipoff.”

“Uh, yeah.” He has the decency to look contrite. “I might’ve used that on a carton of cigs. Sorry. I’ll pay you back, once I get back to work. It was thirty bucks, right? Forty?”

Nai snorts. “No need. Just use the equivalent for its original purpose. A bouquet of red roses should do. Though, knowing Vash, he would be just as enamored with carnations if they came from you.”

“So you’re seriously cool with me and Vash being a thing. Me romancin’ and kissin’ on your brother. Me.”

“Yes,” Nai says simply. “Would you rather I be mad about it?”

“No, dumbass. I just wanna know why. Didn’t think anybody’d ever be good enough for him in your opinion. Let alone somebody with shit grades and nothing to their name.”

“Let’s not forget your delightful vocabulary,” Nai grumbles. At least Wolfwood has the self-awareness to censor himself around Rem. Most of the time. “The cosmic dice rolling in our favor is literally the only reason Vash and I have anything to our name, so that qualifier doesn’t count. You’d be good enough for Vash simply because he believes you are. But that aside, you’ve been nothing if not a true friend to him. To us.” He shrugs uncomfortably. “You’re kind under all that bluster, you’re loyal, and you’ve kept him from getting beaten up at least four times that I know of. I can’t imagine that will change now that you two are romantically involved.” His eyes narrow on a sudden thought. “But if it ever does—”

“You’ll kick my ass, yadda yadda yadda,” Wolfwood groans, throwing an arm over his eyes. “I wouldn’t expect anything less. Actually, no—I’d want you to murder me if I ever did anything to hurt Vash.”

“And that’s why you have my approval. That, and you’re actively saving me from having to deal with my brother falling for some other person who might be much less tolerable.” Some vapid young woman with an annoying voice, or some blockheaded young man with a macho complex and a sportsball fetish, or someone who genuinely likes Taylor Swift, or god knows what else.

“Aww, you find me tolerable,” Wolfwood simpers at him with a shit-eating grin.

It’s… well, it’s charming, despite his temporarily pulverized appearance. Nai wants to flick him between the eyes. “Don’t push it.” That’s what Wolfwood lives for, though—testing boundaries. “I have to say, I’m truly surprised it took you so long to realize. You’re usually so observant.”

Wolfwood’s expression falls from teasing to scowling in record time. A blush dusts his cheekbones. “Hey, shut up. Your brother’s affectionate with everybody, alright? How was I supposed to know I was special? S’not like El Gato, where it’s totally obvious who he’s into.”

“What? Oh, you mean Elendira.”

Befuddlement overcomes Wolfwood’s irritation. “What about Elendira?”

“She’s the one Legato likes, of course. It’s kind of sweet, really, but I don’t think he has much of a chance. Not that I’ve told him that. It would be cruel to crush his little hopes.”

“Holy shit. You’re actually serious right now.”

Nai’s brow furrows at Wolfwood’s apparent amazement. “Yes? Why wouldn’t I be?”

He has the nerve to laugh, loudly, though the immediate cringe and muffled curse give away the instant karma his damaged ribs have dealt. “Boy, for bein’ a genius you sure can be a dumbass,” he hisses. “And you were callin’ me unobservant.”

This time it’s Nai’s turn to scowl. “What in the hell are you talking about?”

“I’m talkin’ about the fact that Legato has been makin’ heart eyes at you since the day you drug him to our lunch table by the scruff, you idiot. I’ve never seen such a thirsty sonuvabitch.”

Nai stares at him blankly for what has to be at least five solid seconds. Then he can’t control the disbelieving laughter. “Oh, Nicholas. No. No, no, no. I’m afraid you’re a bit confused.” Wolfwood is almost more observant than Meryl, so how could he possibly get this so wrong? Perhaps he’s just illiterate in matters of the heart. “Legato has a crush on Elendira,” Nai says slowly and carefully, so his companion can follow. “Think about it. Why else would he get so mad when she flirts with me?”

Wolfwood stares back, face going almost eerily blank. Nai can almost see him connecting the dots. “…huh. So that’s how it is. Right, then.”

“Yes, that’s how it is. But don’t start any arguments by bringing it up.” Legato has a lingering tendency to assume that all teasing is done with cruel intentions, which is highly unfortunate given Wolfwood’s penchant for harmlessly teasing literally everyone. Though his friend has become much less guarded around their little group over the years, Nai still tacks on the occasional ‘you know I’m joking, right?’ just to be sure.

Wolfwood sighs and settles back into his pillow nest. “You got it, boss.”

A sudden loud clang from the kitchen (what sounds suspiciously like the metal baking pan hitting the floor) curtails further conversation. An assortment of agitated Vash-noises and ‘no no no no—!’s follows.

Nai cringes. “Vash?” he calls warily. “Is everything alright?”

“It’s fine!” Vash yells back. “Everything’s fine! Don’t come in here! Where’s the other roll of paper towels?!”

“Okay, I’m coming in there.” Nai shoves himself out of the recliner, pointing firmly at Wolfwood when he tries to rise and follow. “No. Stay. Good boy.”

The second middle finger of the day is aimed at him as he walks out, proving once more that things are ever so slowly drifting back toward normal.

- // - // - // - // -

Rem gets home just as the sun is setting. The delicious smells of tomato, meat sauce, cheese and garlic bread permeate the house. Nai is setting the table with the cloth napkins and the real ceramic dishes that his brother isn’t allowed to touch. Behind him in the kitchen, Vash and Wolfwood are bickering happily.

Relegated to a strictly supervisory role, Wolfwood oversees the final touches from a seat at the breakfast bar. “Spikey, not that I’m not totally wowed by your culinary prowess, but this ain’t the Olive Garden. That lasagna doesn’t need any more cheese on top.”

Vash shakes the grater at him with mock severity. “You can never have too much cheese! Quit critiquing my vision of fancy Italian-ness.”

“Oh, is that what we’re goin’ for, fancy? Is that why we got this super classy sparkling grape juice?”

“Well, yeah! And also because it’s the last bottle we didn’t drink New Year’s Eve and we need to get it out of the fridge. Fancy Italian night is perfect! Nai, where are the candles? The actual candlesticks for the table, not the little birthday cake candles.”

“Drawer under the silverware, in the back, behind the potato masher,” Nai sighs, placing the last fork as the sound of the front door opening echoes from the foyer. “Don’t even think about putting cheese on that salad.” Vash lets out a guilty squeak and backpedals away from the salad bowl.

“Honeys, I’m home~” Rem sing-songs, suddenly peering around the corner. “Oh wow, what’s all this?” she asks delightedly. “It smells amazing in here.”

“Ta-daaaa!” Vash, resplendent in oven mitts and his favorite pizza-patterned apron, triumphantly holds the lasagna pan aloft. “Fancy Italian night!”

Nai snatches up the spare potholders and quickly confiscates the main course from him. “Give me that before you drop it and we wind up having to DoorDash mediocre noodles again. You can carry the salad. Carefully.”

Rem moves aside to give them space to move the food to the table. “What’s the occasion?” She catches Wolfwood’s eye and smiles mischievously. “Did something good happen today, maybe…?”

Vash laughs brightly as his best friend (now boyfriend?) abruptly flushes and looks away, suddenly very busy reading the label on the grape juice bottle. “The best thing happened today. Nick’s going to stay!”

She beams at the news. “You’re right. That is the best thing.”

Wolfwood turns even redder as she moves in for a gentle hug, still careful not to startle him or touch any of his injuries, and lands a motherly kiss on his forehead. He looks entirely out of his element. Nai suddenly realizes that he still doesn’t have sunglasses to hide his emotions behind and has to hold back an amused snort. Maybe he can suggest that Vash take his beau to pick out another pair and some new clothes tomorrow, if he’s feeling up to it.

Vash brings the plate of garlic bread to the table. Nai sets out stemware and uncorks the bottle of juice. Wolfwood, bound and determined to contribute something to the preparations, darts in to light the candles, only a bit awkward with the lighter in his left hand. Then they all sit down to their first dinner as a family of four. (Four and a half, counting the little black cat begging for cheese under their chairs.)

With his brother smiling ear to ear, happiness and love rolling off him like breaking waves as he swaps shy, doe-eyed looks with Wolfwood over the far-too-cheesy lasagna, Nai can’t help but smile as well. Dare he think it, but this feels a lot like the start of something very good.

Chapter Text

This is not good. This is very, very not good.

Vash, we’re about to have company, Nai alerts very loudly through their connection. His brother and Wolfwood, lounging on the sofa in the living room, won’t get much more warning than that with Meryl striding very purposefully up the walk. Nai just happened to be near enough to the kitchen window to catch sight of her battle van screeching to a halt on the street near the mailbox, or they wouldn’t even be getting that much. Your favorite obsessive little sleuth is here.

The past two days have been nearly idyllic. Since he agreed to stay with them permanently, Wolfwood has been much more at ease—resting, healing, eating, and cuddling with Vash. The reassurance that his best friend is permanently out of danger and close at hand to dote on as he recovers has also kept Vash from being a hovering wreck. The day before, Vash had taken Wolfwood out of the house for the first time since the stressful mission to his old apartment and they had returned with essentials like socks, underwear, a couple practical outfits, and a new pair of sunglasses. (Vash’s black cat hoodie seems to be on permanent loan.)

Nai has spent his time off productively: working on The Paper, hitting the gym, reading, hanging out with Legato and Elendira, and using the bullet blender Rem got him for Christmas to experiment with healthy smoothies that Vash won’t touch because they’re green. Spring break had managed to redeem itself from the fiasco that was the weekend.

He should have known it was too good to last.

What?! I can’t believe this… Disbelief is followed instantly by a pulse of deep frustration from his twin. Stall her. I’m asking Nick what he wants to do.

If she kicks me in the shins, you’re doing my chores for a week.

Ugh, fine, just do it!

The doorbell rings. Nai sighs. He goes to the foyer, braces himself, and opens the door.

“Alright, where is he?” Arms crossed over her chest, jaw set stubbornly, all five feet and one-hundred pounds of Meryl Stryfe stares up at him accusingly.

“Hello to you, too,” he deadpans. “Oh. Hi, Milly.”

Several polite steps behind the shorter girl, Milly raises a sheepish hand in greeting. “Hi, Nai. I’m really sorry—she could not be stopped. But I brought treats!” There’s a nicely wrapped pastry box in her free hand. Bless the girl and her instincts for smoothing things over.

“Cough him up!” Meryl squeaks, looking moments away from stomping her foot about it.

Nai crosses his arms right back and returns her unamused stare. “Whom exactly are we discussing?”

“Don’t play dumb with me! Where. Is. Nick?”

“What makes you think he’s here?”

“Oh, I don’t know—maybe the fact that his freakin’ bike is parked in front of your house?” she growls, pointing over at the driveway where Angelina has been stowed in front of the twins’ car until her owner is healed enough to ride her again.

Damn it. He can’t really refute that piece of evidence. “Maybe he left it here and booked a flight to Cabo. I hear spring break down there is all the rage nowadays.”

“Listen, I just want to talk to him.” She tries to sidle past.

Nai immediately sidesteps, blocking the doorway with his much, much bigger frame. “I really think you should just wait until school next week—”

“It’s been five days already! Something really weird is going on and I’m going to find out what!” She dodges to the other side and he barely closes the gap quickly enough. “How do I know he’s not being held hostage or something?”

“Do we really seem like kidnappers to you?” he demands, fighting the urge to just fling her away by the back of the jacket as one would a rabid raccoon and slam the door on this utter ridiculousness.

“Meryl, maybe we should go?” Milly tries very helpfully. She looks torn between being extremely amused and extremely apologetic. “I mean, he’s right. We’ll see Nick and Vash on Monday—”

While Nai is looking at Milly, Meryl makes her move. She dives, trying to slip in under his arm. All she accomplishes is getting wedged between the doorframe and his thigh when he jerks into action a split second later.

“Are you out of your mind, woman?!” he yells, trying not to let her wriggle past while also trying not to crush her tiny ribcage like toothpicks.

She makes a squeezed sort of noise and stoops so incredibly low as to frantically tickle the back of his knee. Nai lets out a frankly embarrassing squawk and nearly does squish her fragile chihuahua body in the resulting struggle.

It’s then that Vash finally, blessedly, stomps around the corner. “Meryl!” he barks, straightening up to his full height with his hands on his hips like a Kindergarten teacher about to move a whole class’s worth of behavior clips to the naughty side of the chart. “Seriously? I can’t believe you sometimes!”

Nai lets her go happily (gleefully, even) and leaves her to her fate. Love and peace, little brother, he reminds cheerfully as he slips past Vash and zips up the stairs. That is now his twin’s circus and his monkeys.

Rem steps out of her bedroom as he reaches the upstairs hallway. It might be a bit more cramped in there now that it’s pulling double duty as her work-from-home space, but not so much that she regrets giving up her office for Wolfwood. “Is everything okay down there? Who was at the door?”

“Just Meryl and Milly. They came to visit Wolfwood.”

She brightens. “Oh, that’s great! I was about to take a break anyway.”

“Maybe give it fifteen minutes,” Nai advises. “Vash is giving Meryl a lecture that will probably make her regret every life choice she’s made in the last five days.”

“Oooh boy.” Rem runs a hand through her hair and puffs out a sigh. It doesn’t happen often, but Vash putting someone back on the straight and narrow when he feels he has just cause to do so is not to be taken lightly. “Maybe I’ll just answer another email… or three… while they work that out, then.”

Nai makes himself comfortable in his room, fooling around on his phone. As expected, it can’t be much more than fifteen minutes before Vash mentally pokes at him.

Hey Nai, Milly brought you a pastry! You should come down and hang out.

Eeeeehhhh…

It’s an apple danish, Vash wheedles. You know you waaant iiiit~

Damn it. He does. Apples are his favorite fruit and the bake shop next to Milly’s family’s office does danishes better than anywhere else in town, never adding too much sugar, letting the natural sweetness of the apples come through. He goes back downstairs.

Whatever justice needed to be served seems to have been dealt. The storm that had darkened his brother’s countenance has smoothed over and given way to Vash’s usual sunshine as he packs his cheeks with a donut. Meryl, looking suitably subdued but none the worse for wear, is parked on the ottoman demurely nibbling what looks like a scone. And Milly—dear, dear Milly—has Wolfwood literally on her lap on the couch, holding him like the world’s biggest, most confused toddler.

Some of Nai’s amusement at the seating arrangements must slip past his filter, because Wolfwood’s air of general confusion is replaced instantly with belligerence. He crosses his arms and scowls fiercely. “Don’t you say a word. Not one. Fucking. Word.”

Nai bites the inside of his cheek viciously so he won’t laugh. “Wouldn’t dream of it. I suppose I’ll be a good host, since my brother is too busy chasing his sugar high. Can I get anyone a drink? Coffee or tea?”

“Oh, me, please!” Milly chirps brightly. “Tea would be great.”

In the end, he makes a pot each of tea and coffee. Then he pours one glass of milk for Vash, because his twin is really three little kids in a trench coat when it comes to sweets and needs his “moo juice” to wash them down. Rem finds her way downstairs to join their little impromptu pastry party as he’s handing out mugs and teacups. Everything is peachy.

Except for the little anxious flutters of mine mine mine mine that Vash starts unconsciously emitting as time goes by and Milly shows no signs of releasing Wolfwood from her loving custody.

Nai hides his smile in the apple danish. They’re cute together.

Yeah. There’s a thinly concealed pout in Vash’s mental “voice.”

Have you told the girls that you and Wolfwood are dating yet?

No. A little rush of embarrassment as Vash sips his milk. Nick and I haven’t even talked about that yet! No way I’m telling the girls anything until we make it official. If we do. If he wants to, I mean—

Better stake your claim before someone else does, Nai advises airily. Just saying.

They don’t even like each other like that! Vash wails silently, twitching where he sits. A moment later, though, he scoots closer to Milly and Wolfwood, cuddling up against Wolfwood and the back of the couch with all the subtlety of a full-grown Irish wolfhound.

Nai doesn’t even try to hide the smile this time. His baby brother is too, too easy.

- // - // - // - // -

The rest of spring break passes quietly. Then Monday comes, as Mondays always do, and the Saverem twins head back to school with a plus one. They come armed with all the paperwork from the doctor at the urgent care: documentation that will excuse Wolfwood from gym class for the remainder of the semester and grant accommodation for his busted hand while he’s unable to write or even type very well.

Vash is twitchy as the three of them walk to the main office. Nai can tell that he’s itching to reach for Wolfwood’s good hand, frustrated that they’re now in public and he has to hold himself back after being in almost constant physical contact for a week.

Easy, little brother. In seven hours, you can go back to holding hands like sea otters again. It’s not that long.

Vash huffs quietly. Think about how many jerks could see that he’s hurt this bad and try to jump him because they think they finally stand a chance of beating him, and THEN tell me seven hours isn’t that long.

Nai’s left eye develops an almost instant tic. Thank you for that hitherto unrealized anxiety, Vash. Appreciate that.

What?! It could happen!

I know it could happen! That’s why it’s cause for anxiety!

While Wolfwood has a gruff discussion with the school nurse (a discussion wherein he stares at the floor and divulges as few details as possible), Nai whips out his phone, pulls up the group chat, and calls for an emergency meeting at Vash’s locker.

* * *

There are only two periods during which Wolfwood doesn’t have class with someone in their friend group. All other times of the day, at least one of them flanks him like the secret service protecting the president. Wolfwood grumbles and growls about it, but Nai doesn’t miss how some of the tension leaves his frame when Nai and Meryl show up to escort him to the cafeteria for lunch. And how it almost completely evaporates, if only for half an hour, when Vash covertly grabs his hand underneath the lunch table.

They manage to make it through the day. After last bell, Nai meets back up with Vash and Wolfwood to go home. He can’t help but notice how much rougher Wolfwood looks just in the couple of hours since lunch. Or that Vash is standing so close to him that their arms touch.

“Man, long day!” Vash sighs. “Let’s get home and take a break.”

Did something happen? Nai asks mentally as they make their way out to the parking lot.

He had a panic attack last hour. Vash’s side of the connection is awash with renewed concern. Legato texted me that Nick left class and didn’t come back. I bailed on library duty and found him in the bathroom hyperventilating. I’m just glad Ms. Baker likes me or I’d have detention for sure.

Nai winces. He’s definitely going to positively reinforce Legato with a premium snack for that one. Wonderful. I’ll drive.

When they reach the car, Wolfwood slides silently into the backseat. Vash slides in right beside him, leaving Nai alone in the front to change the radio to the new age spa music channel and steer them homeward. When he glances in the rearview mirror, Wolfwood’s eyes are closed, his face half buried in Vash’s shoulder. It’s déjà vu from their trip to the urgent care barely more than a week ago, and Nai sighs quietly. He has the unpleasant feeling that Wolfwood’s psyche will need far more time to recover than his battered body will.

As soon as they get home, their new housemate vanishes like a ninja. Nai takes off his shoes and jacket, turns around, and Wolfwood is already gone from the foyer. He and Vash peek carefully around the corner and down the hallway. Wolfwood’s door is cracked open a scant two inches.

“I’ll go talk to him,” Vash whispers. “Make sure he’s okay.”

Nai watches as his brother gently knocks, is presumably granted permission to enter, and slips inside. Three would definitely be a crowd in this case. Nai drops his backpack in his room, swaps a greeting with Rem, who is hard at work in her own bedroom office, and heads back down to the kitchen for a pick-me-up of hummus and pita chips. He trusts that Vash will know how to help the situation.

* * *

It’s dinnertime before Nai knows it. He’s seen neither hide nor hair of his brother or Wolfwood, so he plugs his laptop back in to charge and heads downstairs to make sure they’re still alive.

Wolfwood’s door is still open that small crack. A mental nudge at Vash gets no response besides unconscious contentment, so Nai sneaks over and peeks in. He almost snorts at what he sees.

The two are stretched out on the bed, as predicted. Vash is spooning Wolfwood, a careful arm below his healing ribs, his face buried in a mess of inky black hair. Against his chest, right above where Vash’s arm rests, Wolfwood holds his plush wolf. It’s stupidly cute. They’re both sleeping soundly.

Vash. Va-aash, Nai sing-songs. Little brother. Time to wake up.

The visible part of Vash’s face scrunches up in displeasure and he holds onto Wolfwood tighter, projecting distinctly negative feels.

Fine then, I’m going to eat all your food. Bye-bye. Nai finally does snort when even that threat doesn’t wake his twin fully. At least it’s clear where Vash’s priorities lie.

It’s Rem’s night to make dinner. She’s at the stove, carefully turning homemade hamburger patties in the skillet with a spatula, and glances up when Nai walks in. “Hey, honey. It’s almost time to eat. Have you seen Vash and Nick?”

“They’re still napping. First day back was a little rough.” Nai moves automatically to pull plates out of the cabinet. The tableware cabinet is directly beside the cabinet with the medicine bottles, though, and an idea forms. “I think we need to get Wolfwood some anxiety meds.”

Rem focuses on him immediately. “Oh?”

“Vash said he was hyperventilating in the bathroom today.”

“Oooh. I see.” She frowns thoughtfully, plating the hamburgers on a dish lined with a bed of paper towels. “I hate to hear that, but I’m not really shocked. He’s been through a really traumatic experience and a big life change in a very short amount of time. We can definitely get him an appointment and get a prescription going.” She gives Nai a look over her shoulder. “But only if it’s something that he actually wants. We can’t push him too hard.”

Nai makes up his mind to offer Wolfwood a couple of his own pills in the meantime, the ones that keep anxiety spikes from spiraling into full-blown panic attacks. Better safe than sorry. “Really? I was just going to grab his face and shove the pill down his throat like we do with Kuro,” he deadpans.

Rem sputters in disbelief at the mental image. “Do not even.”

“I guess we could hide it in a cheese cube—”

She points at him firmly with the spatula. “Go set the table, you menace.”

- // - // - // - // -

Somehow, they make it through the rest of the week. Each day is a little easier than the last, and by Friday, Wolfwood is finally feeling better enough to get sincerely crabby at everyone for the constant supervision on school grounds. The only one he doesn’t seem irritated with is Vash—surprise, surprise—who he still welcomes into his personal space without a thought.

Friday also means game night.

“Power nap?” Vash asks Wolfwood with a sleepy little smile as soon as they get back home. “We’ll be up late tonight.”

“You’ll be up late tonight,” Wolfwood points out. “Doubt I could play for shit, yet.” His right hand is still healing, strapped snugly in the glove brace. He’s doing well with his physical therapy exercises, but the dexterity needed to work a controller without undue pain is still beyond him, so the Punisher remains sidelined for the time being.

“You can still keep us company!”

Wolfwood hems and haws about it, but it’s clear that Vash won when Nai comes back downstairs not five minutes later and the two lovebirds are already nested on the couch together, settling in for that nap. He rolls his eyes and heads for the kitchen.

He’s slurping down a cup of instant noodles when Rem gets home. It’s surprising to see her so soon; on days when she goes to the lab, she’s rarely home before six.

Rem is singing to herself when she opens the front door and breezes into the foyer—probably whatever song was on the radio when she got out of the car.

Nai drops his chopsticks and pops out of the kitchen to intercept her, awkwardly wiping broth from the corner of his mouth. “Shhh!”

Though obviously startled, she reflexively slaps a hand over her mouth. “Why am I shushing?” she stage-whispers.

In answer, Nai simply points into the living room. Rem peeks around the corner. Vash is sprawled out on the couch, mouth half open, clearly asleep. His prosthetic and two of the gaming controllers charge on the coffee table. Wolfwood is sandwiched between Vash and the back of the couch with Vash’s good arm hugging him protectively close, an arm around Vash in turn and his tousled head pillowed on Vash’s chest as they doze.

Rem stares at them for a long moment. “Nai, honey?” she asks quietly. “Do you think Vash and Nicholas might be…? Are they…? Well, you know—”

“Sitting in a tree, K-I-S-S-I-N-G?” he says flatly. “Yes. Yes, they are.” It’s not like it will become a problem if she knows, and the nitwits have done nothing to hide their near-constant skinship while within the safety of their home, so they can’t be too concerned with keeping their budding romance a secret from her.

Both of Rem’s well-manicured hands fly up to cover her mouth again. Nai may not have a freaky twin link with their mother, but one isn’t necessary to decipher the utter delight in her eyes and her barely-muffled squeal. “They’re so sweet,” she breathes after a moment, as her hands migrate downward to press over her heart instead.

Nai rolls his eyes. “Maybe. A little.”

“A little,” she scoffs playfully. “You love them.”

“Lies and slander.”

Rem finally turns to go upstairs and change, casting one fond glance back at the two on the couch. Nai goes back into the kitchen to throw away his chopsticks and noodle cup. Sure that she is gone, he then tiptoes into the living room to carefully drape a throw blanket over Vash and Wolfwood. It’s a cloudy day, and it can be chilly next to the window without a sunbeam coming in.

He turns away from the couch and almost trips over the coffee table in shock. Rem is standing in the doorway with her phone, a big smile on her face.

“Delete that!” he hisses, charging across the room as quietly as he can, but it’s no use; she darts back into the hall and up the stairs with a quiet cackle, still spry for an ancient crone of nearly forty. “Delete it! Rem!”

Vash gets all of his bad habits from this woman, Nai swears.

* * *

After dinner, the boys assemble in the living room. Vash is eager to play after missing two game nights in a row due to the recent Wolfwood crisis; what they now politely refer to as The Incident. Mostly content to watch the others play and bide his time, Wolfwood lounges on the couch behind the twins with a soda and a bowl of popcorn.

Nai is (for once) playing nicely with no (immediate) plans for group dissention and chaos. Since he can always count on Legato to follow his lead, the party will remain intact this day. While they face down a group of desert lowlifes on the screen, a steady stream of verbal sparring volleys back and forth. No sense in excluding dear Nicholas entirely just because he’s unable to play.

Perhaps because it’s been so long since they played, the razzing runs thick.

“Promise you’re not gonna turn traitor,” Vash demands. His avatar slings well-placed bullets, taking out the wheels of their opposition’s transport.

“Yes, Vash,” Nai sighs, “I pinky-promised. Calm down.”

“Legato, you swear?”

//“I swear,”// comes the bored-sounding answer through their headsets. Onscreen, a bandit has the bad luck of darting just inside the range of Legato’s psychic influence and crumples like a slightly squishy paper doll. //“Nai said to be good this time.”//

“You’d jump off a damn bridge if Nai told you to,” Wolfwood grumbles, loud enough to be heard through their mics.

Legato replies without hesitation. //“Of course I would. If Nai told me to do something that drastic, I’d know there was a very good reason for it.”//

“That’s right. Good answer, Legato. Your self-preservation skills are improving,” Nai praises a bit smugly.

Wolfwood snorts. “Whipped.”

“Oh, please,” Nai grouses. “Like you wouldn’t jump off a bridge if Vash told you to. My brother has you completely wrapped around his little finger.”

Beside him, Vash has the decency to blush.

“Hey, you callin’ me a sucker?” Wolfwood demands. He throws his head back, swigging the last of his soda.

Nai casually decapitates his closest opponent with a whip of his blades and snorts. “Well, with your obvious oral fixation —”

Vash makes a sound like a squeezed chipmunk and fumbles his controller. His avatar spins a jerky half circle and fires an unintended round, point blank, directly between Legato’s eyes. Wolfwood chokes violently and spews a mouthful of lukewarm soda and spit against the back of Nai’s head. Popcorn flies everywhere.

Nai screams in horror and disbelief, flinging his controller to wipe frantically at the liquid seeping through his hair and running down his neck. “Wolfwood, what the fuck?!”

“I’m sorry, ‘Gato, I’m so sorry—!” Vash shrieks, looking frantically back and forth between the carnage onscreen and his oxygen-challenged boyfriend, who is bent double on the couch trying to protect his ribcage as he wheezes through crazed laughter.

Nai’s hair is already sticky. Sure he has never needed a shower so badly in his entire life, he practically runs from the room. Behind him Wolfwood is still cough-cackling (the absolute bastard), Vash is wailing apologies as he pats him ineffectively on the back, Meryl is yelling at them to lower their voices (the little hypocrite) or she’s muting the channel, and Legato and Milly just seem to be trying to figure out what the hell is happening. 

“Sounds like fun tonight!” Rem calls happily from the kitchen as he dashes by. “When are you guys going to teach me how to play?”

Chapter Text

It takes another week for Vash and Wolfwood to walk into school holding hands.

Nai knows something significant must have happened yesterday evening, when the two slipped out of the house with barely a goodbye and disappeared on the motorcycle. (Between his healing ribs and hand, it’s probably still too soon for Wolfwood to be driving Angelina. It’s not surprising that he pushed his luck; just surprising that he hadn’t tried to do so even sooner.) Wherever they had gone and whatever they had gotten up to, Nai had picked up on the jumble of emotions his twin was shooting off like long-distance fireworks. Sadness. Joy. Shock. Love so strong and deep that Nai’s own heart had skipped a beat, thumping fitfully from the secondhand feels. He had thought he might barf.

His baby brother is down bad.

Vash is a little bit pink around the ears and cheekbones as he and Wolfwood walk through the halls hand in hand and approach the corner of the common area that the group meets up in every morning to kill the time before first bell. Nai follows close behind them, carefully scanning the crowds they pass in case someone takes issue with two guys holding hands. They’re far from the first openly queer couple in the school, so no one should complain, but Nai will definitely ruin someone’s day if they dare. Those are his idiots and goddamn it, they’re going to be happy if it kills him.

The girls are already at their post, chatting together as Meryl taps at something on her tablet.

Milly is the first to look over, a cheery greeting on the tip of her tongue. Her eyes widen hugely, shortly followed by her smile. “Awww, you guys, I knew it! Congratulations!”

“Huh?” At her best friend’s exclamation, Meryl looks up. Her eyes land on Vash and Wolfwood’s clasped hands. She blinks dumbly. “Wha?” Then she notices Wolfwood’s treasured golden cross, now hanging around Vash’s neck. “Wha?!”

“So, um.” Vash giggles, rubbing sheepishly at the back of his neck with his free hand. He’s slowly turning the same color as his much-loved hoodie. “Nick and I are dating now. Surprise!”

Meryl shrieks loudly enough to attract the attention of half the common area.

Milly surges forward, wrapping Vash and Wolfwood in an enthusiastic bear hug. “I’m so happy for you guys!”

“Ribs, big girl, ribs—” Wolfwood wheezes frantically.

She releases him instantly with a panicked squeak. “Ohmygosh, sorry!”

“When did this happen?” Meryl demands, hands on her hips. She looks simultaneously happy about the news and offended that they didn’t call her over for an in-depth interview the second their relationship status upgraded.

“Officially? Yesterday. Unofficially? A couple weeks.” Vash is still obviously red and flustered, but looks very pleased as he takes Wolfwood’s hand again. “So now you know.”

“And Nai’s okay with this?”

Nai frowns down at her. “What am I, my brother’s keeper?”

She quirks a very skeptical eyebrow.

“Alright, alright,” he concedes. “Yes, I approve. Nicholas is the most qualified candidate. We already know him, so I didn’t even have to run a background check or do a polygraph test. It’s an economical choice.”

“Smartass,” Wolfwood mutters.

“I’m making a joke! You’re always after me about being too serious.” Nai turns away from them with a huff and nearly collides with Legato. For someone so tall, the emo is awfully good at moving around unnoticed. “Oh. Good morning.”

Legato offers no response, staring blankly at Vash and Wolfwood’s intertwined hands and lovey-dovey aura like he’s waiting for someone to yell ‘April fools!’

Nai sighs, giving his minion a bracing pat on the shoulder. “Yes, I know. It’s a lot to take in so suddenly. But you’ll get used to it. They’re still the same idiots they’ve always been—just with a sickeningly saccharine candy coating.”

“It’s surprising,” Legato admits weakly, still staring. “Who would have thought two best friends would wind up in a romantic relationship…”

As if determined to rub it in, Wolfwood brings their still-joined hands up to his mouth and kisses Vash’s knuckles. He may or may not be smirking slyly in their general direction as Vash turns steaming lobster red.

“Ooo-oooh,” the girls chorus delightedly.

The can of Monster in Legato’s hand cracks and crumples as his fist closes convulsively around it. The corner of his visible eye twitches.

“Get a room, hussies,” Nai deadpans, sending Vash into a fit of embarrassed laughter. It’s probably a good thing that the two of them live in the same house now and can spend as much time together as they can stand after school, or he has no doubt they would be caught stealing smooches in the stairwell before the week is out. “Such flagrant PDA will not be tolerated.”

The bell dispersing everyone to homeroom rings as Wolfwood flips him off with his free hand, openly grinning.

* * *

Lunchtime brings to light a new conundrum.

Meryl seems to have already shaken off the shock and moved on to more important matters. “Oh my god. Prom is in a few weeks!” she exclaims, gesturing wildly with a carrot stick. “What are we going to do about prom?”

“Uh… does something have to change?” Vash asks innocently. The two of them had planned to attend the senior prom together, as friends. He had also guilted Nai into buddying up with Milly when Wolfwood announced that he wasn’t planning to go.

“Of course it does! You have a boyfriend now! You have to go to prom with your boyfriend. It’s practically the law.”

Wolfwood waves her off even as Vash begins to look excited at the idea of attending the social event of the year with him. “I really don’t care if you guys go together, Shortstack. You’ve never had anything romantic goin’ on.”

“You should care,” she insists stubbornly, arms crossed over her chest. “You should be there sweeping Vash off his feet! Hanging out with us, making one of the last memories of our high school careers! Does that not matter to you?”

“It’s not that!” Wolfwood groans. “You all matter to me plenty. I just don’t wanna fool with trying to pull the money for a suit rental out’a my ass on short notice, okay? I’m still off the schedule at work for another month.”

Nai’s brain goes into overdrive. Of course Wolfwood is worried about the money. He should have suspected that the was problem sooner. Milly is Wolfwood’s second-best friend, nearly an adopted sister—he wouldn’t have left her without a prom date just because ‘it wasn’t his thing.’

“What if,” Nai butts in. They all freeze, clearly not expecting him to have anything to add. “What if.” He steeples his fingers in calculation. “Meryl and Milly, you two go to prom together. Girls do that all the time. Wolfwood, I’ll loan you my suit. The fit might be a little off in some places, but not enough to matter. You go with my brother, the women don’t disown you, and I get to stay home and not interact with the rest of the student body. Everyone wins.”

Wolfwood blinks, obviously weighing the pros and cons. “Well. Yeah. I guess that’d work,” he says slowly. “But,” he points firmly at Meryl, “I’m not wearin’ a tie, got it?”

“If you’re not going, I’m not going,” Legato says quietly, all but unnoticed as the others begin to chatter about ties, shoes, boutonnieres, and other prom minutia. Against all odds, he sounds almost… disappointed.

Nai glances over at him in surprise. Not that he’s shocked Legato would avoid an event that Nai himself wasn’t attending, but the disappointment is definitely odd. “You weren’t actually looking forward to prom, were you?”

“No, of course not.”

Though Legato has reverted to his blandest, most neutral emo tone of voice, Nai can tell that’s not entirely true. He holds back a sigh. Legato may be the ultimate introvert, but with the end of the tunnel that is high school looming larger by the day, it’s not impossible that he might have actually wanted to be with the rest of the group for once. Making memories, and all that. Nai can’t hold that against him.

“You and I can hang out instead,” he offers after a moment’s deliberation. “Get something to eat, maybe see a movie? Wasn’t there one coming out soon you wanted to see?”

Legato perks up a bit, the shadow of disappointment evaporating instantly. “That would be… fine.”

“You guys really, really aren’t going to come to prom with us?” Vash flashes a pair of puppy eyes at Nai that should be illegal. “But what about our last high school memories, like Meryl said? We can figure the suit thing out somehow.”

“Oh, for the love of…” Nai drags a hand down his face. “Vash. Baby brother. I’ve made it almost four whole years without attending a school dance. If at all possible, I don’t want to break that streak. But maybe we can meet you all at Taco Bell for an after-party, or something.”

Vash laughs at him, shaking his head in amused resignation. “You guys are such hermits.”

“And proud,” Nai confirms, finishing the last of his stupidly small carton of skim milk. As if he, now in his upper teens and taller than almost all of their classmates, still required the same amount of milk as he had as a tiny Kindergartener. The wonders of standardized education. “How many of these do you think we should actually be drinking for proper hydration and calcium intake?”

“Ten, easy.” The subject of prom already forgotten, Vash leans forward eagerly, drumming his fingers on the tabletop. “Bet I could do twenty if they’re chocolate!”

“Do not,” Meryl demands wryly. “You’d totally spew all over the place.”

Wolfwood puts a protective arm around Vash and smirks playfully at her. “Hey now, don’t go crushin’ his dreams, lil’ lady.”

This is how life is supposed to be. Happy little brother, slumped against Wolfwood and dramatically bemoaning how mean Meryl is to him. Happy friends, laughing at Vash’s antics. Happy sidekick, covertly checking his phone for new movie releases. It’s moments like this that Nai adamantly refuses to admit he’s going to miss.

- // - // - // - // -

It’s not that Nai forgets about getting Wolfwood a prescription for his obvious anxiety issues, or getting him into therapy. It’s more that the idea gets shoved to the back burner of his brain in the flurry that is April’s arrival. With end-of-term projects to work on, The Paper to refine, and the not-altogether-unexpected announcement that he’s going to be the class valedictorian, there’s more than a little bit to occupy his mind.

The issue is brought back to his attention one night a few days after Vash and Wolfwood’s formal coming out. Nai takes a break from homework and wanders down to the kitchen for a snack. He’s not the only one with the idea. Wolfwood is already at the counter, a loaf of bread open at his elbow, making peanut butter and jelly sandwiches. One is obviously for Vash, as evidenced by the giant handful of sour cream and onion potato chips Wolfwood is piling onto it.

Nai opens his mouth to tell him to leave the bread out, but the first syllable that leaves his lips may as well be a gunshot for the way the other startles.

“Jesus!” Wolfwood snarls, fumbling the butter knife. It falls to the countertop with a metallic clang and a smear of peanut butter as he whirls to face Nai.

Nai instinctively takes a step back and raises his hands defensively. “What?!”

“Don’t fuckin’ sneak up on me like that!”

“I was not sneaking. I just walked into the room, as people do.” His eyes narrow. “What the hell is your problem?”

The anger melts almost instantly into clear discomfort that looks oddly like guilt. Wolfwood’s shoulders hunch as he collects the knife and tries to wipe the peanut butter off the counter. “Nothin’. Sorry. I was just… makin’ a sandwich. For Vash, too,” he quickly clarifies. “Got kinda hungry studyin’.”

“I figured as much.” Nai inches around him warily and wets a dishrag at the sink, which he passes over to help with the cleanup efforts. “You don’t have to justify what you’re doing. You live here. You can be in the kitchen whenever you want. You can eat anything you want. Everything we have is here for everyone. Except my almond milk, but you already knew that.”

“Yeah. I just—yeah. Sorry.”

Even in the dim light of the recessed bulbs under the wall cabinets, he can see Wolfwood breathing a little faster, eyeballing the doorway, and pointedly not straightening out of his slightly hunched stance. Nai bites back a sigh. “That reminds me. I have something for you. Something I think you might be interested in.”

Wolfwood watches with wary curiosity as Nai goes to the cabinet that holds the little plastic medicine basket and pulls out a bottle. “Peddlin’ drugs again, boss? You didn’t strike me as the type, but now I’m startin’ to wonder.”

“Ha, ha.” Nai sets the bottle down with a plasticky clack near the other’s elbow. “These are for anxiety. They’re yours, if you want them.”

Wolfwood eyes the container suspiciously. “Where’d you get these?”

“From the pharmacy. You know, where one typically gets medication?” Nai watches Wolfwood scrutinize the name on the label and sighs. He can honestly say this is the first time anyone has suspected him of being a dealer. “Yes, Nicholas, I have a prescription.”

“Since when?”

“Since about seventh grade, if I remember right.”

“Huh. Never knew that.” Wolfwood frowns and slides the bottle away across the counter. “You better keep ‘em, then.”

“It’s fine, really,” Nai assures, waving off the concern. His stomach reminds him of why he’s in the kitchen in the first place and he opens the fridge, looking for the organic, free-range turkey slices that better still be there. “I have a standing prescription. I’ll just say I went through this bottle and get a refill.”

Wolfwood scowls, slapping the top slice down onto his own sandwich. “I don’t need it. I don’t have anxiety.”

Sure he doesn’t. And hyperventilating in a school bathroom stall is perfectly good and normal. Wisely, Nai withholds this observation in favor of something hopefully more persuasive. “That’s what I said too, at first. So Rem and I made a deal that if I used the medication and nothing changed, I didn’t have to take it anymore. And what do you know—it actually helped.”

“Oh, so high an’ mighty Mr. Perfect ain’t so perfect after all, huh? Didn’t actually fall from heaven in an immaculate state?”

Nai peers around the fridge door to grace him with a flat and very unimpressed look.

Wolfwood grimaces. His self-chastisement for being rude again is almost audible. “Sorry, that was shitty,” he mumbles, twisting the lid back onto the peanut butter with excessive force. “Ignore me. I just… It’s fine. Thanks for the offer, but I’ll make it work. Always have.”

Turkey and other sandwich accoutrements in hand, Nai dumps his haul on the counter next to Wolfwood and reaches for the bread. “Are you absolutely sure about that? These pills are as-needed, not something you’d have to take every day. They keep anxiety spikes from spiraling into full-fledged panic attacks.”

“I can deal with it,” Wolfwood huffs stubbornly.

Praying for patience, Nai tries a different avenue. “Okay, look. Humor me. Say you were cooking and the stove went up in flames. There’s a fire extinguisher in arm’s reach. Do you use it to minimize the damage, or do you ‘deal with it’ by letting the fire burn out of control until the whole kitchen burns down around you and then rebuild it from the ground up?”

“That’s different.”

“It’s exactly the same concept, you stubborn ass!” Nai fumes. “Do you really want Vash to keep worrying about you like he is?”

“Don’t bring him into this, asshole,” Wolfwood snaps, bristling like an angry cat.

Ooooh. Apparently dropping his brother’s name hit a nerve. Alright, then; Nai can play dirty, if that’s what needs to be done. Almost casually, he opens the package of turkey. “I will bring him into this, because he’s the one most affected by it. The hovering, the constant contact, all the naps he takes with you—Vash doesn’t nap. He’s got energy like a bumblebee. He just doesn’t want to leave your side, especially when you’re so anxious and drained. He’s worried about you.” When no response is forthcoming, he presses. “Rem is worried about you. I’m worried about you.”

If Wolfwood still has the gall to argue after all that, Nai really is going to grab his face and force-feed him a pill. He has to get his nerves under control or he’s never going to pass his last classes, no matter how much the twins have been helping him study these past few weeks. If he doesn’t pass, he won’t graduate. That is something that Nai cannot allow. Especially now that he knows Wolfwood hasn’t been earning mostly C’s and D’s for years because he’s a slacker, but because he was trying so hard to survive outside of school that time to study and the energy to care about his grades at all were luxuries he simply didn’t have.

Wolfwood stares at him like he’s speaking in calculus equations. “Why do you care?”

How can one person be so thick? Nai nearly throttles the mustard bottle in frustration. “Because you’re my friend, Nicholas! You’re my brother’s best friend and his boyfriend! You moved into our home to be safe and happy, and I refuse to spend every day of my life watching you suffer right under my nose.”

Wolfwood runs a disbelieving hand through his hair. Scrubs at his face. Utters a shaky little chuckle. “Holy shit.”

Nai eyes him warily. “…what?”

“It’s just. You want me here. All of you. You actually want me here. You’re not just puttin’ up with me for your brother’s sake.”

“I thought that much was obvious.” Hasn’t it been obvious? Apparently it has not. Damn it.

Nai is not good with warm and fuzzy things. That’s firmly Vash’s department. But maybe he should have been making more of an effort in this case, if the fact that he genuinely gives a damn comes as such a surprise. He has a quick internal debate with himself, and wins. (Or loses. He’s not really sure.)

Decision made, Nai shuffles the two paces between them and gingerly places one arm around Wolfwood’s shoulders in an awkward, sideways dude-hug. It’s the best he can manage on the spur of the moment, eyes stoically focused on the middle distance of the kitchen wall, but he hopes Wolfwood gets the message nonetheless.

Wolfwood makes a small noise of surprise. Nai glances over just long enough to meet his shocked eyes before he looks away again, knowing he’s flushing. This is so embarrassing. The things he does for the people that have wormed their way beneath his defenses.

“Are we havin’ a moment? Is that what this is?” Wolfwood finally manages to ask.

“Mm,” Nai mutters, refusing to look back at him again. “Is this enough to prove my sincerity, or—?”

Then he is grabbed and spun suddenly to face the other, socks affording no resistance on the tiled floor.

“Oooh my God, you are so fuckin’ bad at this!” Wolfwood cackles. “Come ‘ere.”

Before Nai can protest or flee, he is captured in a bone-crushing bear hug. Arms trapped at his sides, pulled up onto his tiptoes with the force of it, he utters a startled wheeze as his back cracks with three very distinct pops. “Let go of me, you idiot—you’ll hurt yourself again!”

“No way, Ice Queen.” And there’s that infuriating Wolfwood smirk that they haven’t seen much of these past few weeks. “You wanted a moment, we’re gonna have us a moment.”

“I changed my mind,” Nai hisses furiously, unable to shout like he wants to without waking Rem up, if she’s gone to bed already. He manages to yank an arm free and plant his hand against Wolfwood’s stupid face, attempting to push him away. “Get out of my house.”

“Hell, no. You’re stuck with me, now. I’m in here like black mold!” Wolfwood laughs, words slightly garbled by Nai’s hand. He’s clearly taking great enjoyment out of this farce.

It’s then that Vash steps into the kitchen. He takes one look at what’s happening and breaks into a wide, delighted grin. (The traitor.) “Hey, are you guys having fun without me? No fair!”

“Your brother’s in here pushin’ drugs and hugs,” Wolfwood answers gleefully.

Nai sputters, flailing in earnest. “I retract all offers of help or goodwill. I just want to eat my sandwich!”

“I want in.” Vash is across the kitchen in a flash and pounces Nai from behind, smashing him even harder against Wolfwood. “Group hug!”

“Get off of me, you funguses!” Nai fumes as he’s squished with twice the intensity. “Damn it, Wolfwood, get out of my face—you smell like peanut butter!” But he doesn’t fight as hard as he could be. It feels so natural to have Wolfwood around all the time, seamlessly integrating into their antics, that it’s almost scary.

Once Nai finally manages to eel away from his captors, they settle in a line at the breakfast bar to eat their snacks. Nai is content to listen, mostly able to ignore the occasional crunch of the potato chips on his brother’s abomination of a sandwich, as Vash gently persuades Wolfwood to try the anxiety meds.

“Please, Nick? Just, like, on a trial basis?”

“Yeah, okay,” Wolfwood agrees with absolutely no protest beyond a long-suffering sigh. “I’ll give it a shot. Just for you, Needle Noggin. Don’t say I never did nothin’ for ya.”

Nai shoots Vash a somewhat sour glance that he counters with a guileless grin and a thumbs up. Further proof that Vash has Wolfwood wrapped firmly around his little finger and is entirely oblivious to it.

Then he notices Vash’s focus shift as Wolfwood lifts a hand to lick a stray smear of peanut butter off the side of his palm. Vash stares intently, totally transfixed on the movement of his unwitting boyfriend’s tongue—eyes wide, pupils dilated like Kuro about to pounce on her favorite catnip mouse. Apparently being wrapped around little fingers goes both ways.

Do I need to excuse myself so you can make a move? Nai asks mentally, only half joking. He can feel the very beginnings of arousal curling through their twin connection and hurriedly pulls back as far as he can from it. He wants absolutely no part of that, thank you very much.

Vash blushes deeply in the dim light and crams the last of his sandwich into his mouth. No, shut up. Don’t know what you’re talking about.

Right. Of course not. Nai eats his final bite of crust with a soft, amused snort. “Well, I’m going to bed,” he says aloud, and takes his empty plate to the dishwasher. “Don’t stay up too late.”

“Yes, Mom,” Wolfwood drawls, oblivious to the twins’ silent exchange.

Their soft voices fade behind him as Nai climbs the stairs to his room. He knows Vash will be up before too long, just as he knows that Wolfwood will follow at some point before morning—curling up in Vash’s bed just as he has since that very first night when their worlds turned upside down, only to disappear back to his own room downstairs when day breaks.

Nai doesn’t think they’re fooling around. Yet. Vash is still far too bashful. But they’re both so clearly gone on each other, it’s only a matter of time. Good thing Nai has a quality pair of noise-canceling headphones and many years of experience tuning out his brother’s side of their twin connection.

Evil twin impulses piqued, he grins to himself as he reaches his room and tidies up his desk, getting things ready for school the next morning. He’ll have to tease them both about leveling up their love lives.

But not too much.

He loves the idiots, after all.