Work Text:
“Wolfwood,” Meryl pounces on him as soon as he comes out of the shower, eyes wide. “We’re going dancing tonight.”
For a brief moment, Wolfwood isn’t sure how to respond. Is this just a statement? An invitation? Some sort of threat?
“We,” Meryl stresses, gesturing between herself, Vash, and him. “We are going dancing.”
“No. I’m not.”
Wolfwood digs around in the pockets of his coat, hung on the back of the chair next to the bathroom door. If he doesn’t look at them he can’t be swayed by sad eyes…
“We picked out a place and everything,” Vash steps in, moving next to him while Wolfwood’s rummaging out his cigarettes and lighter.
Wolfwood makes a face and shakes his head, finally unearthing his pack and lighter and placing one between his lips. “You two have fun with that.”
Vash reaches out and snatches it from between his lips before he can flick his lighter open. Shooting him a glare, Wolfwood reaches for it only for Vash to hold it up and away from him, grinning.
“Tongari, what–”
“Do you not know how to dance, Wolfwood?” Vash asks, leaning too close when Wolfwood tries to lean after the cigarette in his hand. “Is that why you don't want to join us?”
He's a bad liar. He knows he's a bad liar. So Wolfwood can only glare at him, trying to grab for his last cigarette again.
“We can teach you,” Vash all but purrs the words and maybe, maybe he's considering this by also maybe he needs that cigarette even more.
Vash snakes his other arm around his waist, pulling Wolfwood closer, and sticks the cigarette in his mouth. He looks goofy, grinning with the thing hanging from his lips, but something about how carefree he looks mixed with how goddamn close they are is doing something to Wolfwood's poor, weak resolve.
“I don't need to know how to dance,” he counters, voice quieter. He's staring at the cigarette. He's staring at Vash's lips. “Because I don't dance.”
“If you let me and Meryl teach you, I'll give you a present.”
“Giving me my own cigarette back isn't a present.”
Vash laughs. That high pitched, goofy thing that Wolfwood pretends he doesn't love.
“I'll get you something better than that, promise.”
Wolfwood wants to refuse. It's his last cigarette but he doesn't want to end up making a fool of himself. He's never had much rhythm. Keeping pace in battle doesn't equate to dance moves.
But Vash looks happy. Open. Maybe he can indulge him and Meryl a little.
This is not because he thinks that stupid laugh is cute. Absolutely not.
“Fine,” he replies, sulky. “You do love a lost cause, don't you?”
Vash and Meryl have a place picked out so he's not surprised when Vash drags him there easily. He is surprised, however, when Roberto is there. Not that he looks super impressed with the whole thing. It's some sort of event night, dancing and lights and people with drinks laughing as he and Roberto trade looks briefly and the old man drinks from his glass of scotch.
“Been nice knowing you, kid,” he drawls, watching Meryl bounce over to Wolfwood and almost dump half her watered down beer on him.
Wolfwood knows it's sort of his funeral. He could imagine worse ones than Vash’s smile and Meryl’s rosy cheeks.
“Undertaker!” Meryl beams, wrapping her arm around his bicep.
Wolfwood shoots her a crooked smile, trying not to betray too much fondness in the look he's giving her. “Hey shortstack, had too much already?”
“I've had just enough, thank you!” Meryl shoots back, wrinkling her ruddy nose at him. She bonks her half empty beer glass against his chest. “You need to have more.”
“I don’t really get drunk, shortie,” he replied, allowing Meryl to drag him across the bar by the arm anyway. She was headed after Vash so it wasn’t as if he was off track with this path. “Might have a beer if they don’t taste like piss here, though.”
Vash had beaten him to the punch when they got over to him, offering Wolfwood a mug as he and Meryl approached. He narrowly managed to snag it from Vash’s hand before Meryl tried to steal it, holding it up out of her reach as he took a sip.
“None for me?” she huffed, looking from him to Vash.
Vash just smiled that polite little grin of his and sipped his own beer. “You already have a glass.”
“Only half,” Meryl countered.
“Half full,” Vash informed her. “Appreciate it for what it is.”
Meryl grumbled, looking back at her mug, and Wolfwood hid a smile behind another sip of beer. This part, at least, he could handle. Just a little pleasant drinking with two of the only people on the planet that seemed to like him–for some reason.
But he knew it wouldn’t stay this way, Vash had asked for dancing. He was fairly certain he just wanted to watch Wolfwood trip over himself for his own entertainment. But it wasn’t like he had much dignity left to spare anymore anyway.
“You know how to dance, shortie?” he asked, draping his arm around Meryl’s tiny shoulders as they listened to the little band warming up.
They weren’t half bad–the band, the beer, or Meryl’s shoulders as an armrest. He could handle this. Maybe.
“I know how to look silly,” Meryl countered, taking another sip of her half full beer. “And I know how to drink enough to not care how silly I look.”
Wolfwood made a small noise of understanding. “Must not be hard with how small you are.”
“Getting drunk or looking silly?” she asked, squinting up at him skeptically.
Instead of answering, he chose to take a suspiciously long drink from his glass until Meryl reached over and pinched at his side, nearly making him spit beer on himself in a fit of laughter. Across from them, Vash’s smile had gone more genuine–that smile he often didn’t know he had on his face.
Sappy…
“You going to actually teach me how to dance or just leave me to look stupid?” Wolfwood asked, squinting at Vash.
Beaming, Vash set his beer down on the bar counter next to him and held a hand out to Wolfwood. “I can teach you a few things,” he offered. “What do you want to learn?”
Draining his glass, Wolfwood handed Meryl his empty mug and reached for Vash’s hand. “How to dance? I thought I said–”
As soon as he took Vash’s hand, he felt himself yanked in. So close his body was flush up against Vash’s, an arm wrapping around his waist while their joined hands lifted up into the air a little. Vash grinned at him, too sharp canines pulling Wolfwood’s eyes for a moment.
“There are a lot of ways to dance,” Vash told him, swaying a little on his feet and coaxing Wolfwood into the motion. “Might look a little silly waltzing to this band but I would still be happy to teach you…”
Nervously, Wolfwood set a hand against his chest and did his best to focus on Vash’s eyes. It was hard to close up. They always felt like something he shouldn’t linger over too long.
“I’d rather not look even stupider not dancing appropriately to the music.”
Chuckling, Vash spun him as he gently nudged Wolfwood back a step. Wolfwood nearly stumbled into Meryl, only stopped by Vash’s hand still on his, shifting to lace their fingers together when both of their arms were fully extended.
“Fine,” he said, gently pulling Wolfwood a few steps closer again. “Maybe next time?”
“You’re lucky there’s a this time and you’re already planning for next time?”
That same unguarded smile nearly blinded Wolfwood, assuring him he was most certainly doomed to a next time.
Moving along easily, Vash would hold out his other hand and Wolfwood paused before taking it. Behind him, he could hear Meryl struggling with getting on one of the bar stools and would exchange a fond glance with Vash before offering her an arm to hold, balancing as she got into her seat.
“Got a good seat for the show?” Vash asked, winking at her.
“Wonderful,” Meryl replied, reaching out and wiggling her fingers at him until Vash leaned closer. She planted a kiss on his cheek, exaggerating the noise for effect. “For luck!”
Vash smiled and bumped his forehead lightly into her’s, chuckling. “Might need to give that to Wolfwood instead,” he teased.
But Meryl just made a little “pssh” noise and waved her hand in the air. “He’s fine,” she said, “being bad at something in public is good for you.”
Wolfwood just sighed, shaking his head as Vash took his other hand and towed him a few steps away, closer to the general dancefloor area of the bar. Once there, he’d show Wolfwood the general starting pose and he’d mimic it, pursing his lips when Vash flashed a smile at him.
“You’re a natural,” he said, “I knew you would be.”
“I bet you tell that to all the pretty girls,” Wolfwood deadpans back.
In response, Vash does a little sidestep forward, showing Wolfwood how to move their joined arms, and leans closer. “Well,” he says, stepping back and repeating the gesture to the other side. It’s a quick little move but he puts his whole body into the motion, pulling Wolfwood into doing the same. “You are a pretty girl.”
Repeating the motion, Wolfwood does his best to hide the grin this summons. Fails, as always. “Not tonight,” he replies.
Vash starts adding steps into the little dance, counting as he guides Wolfwood through them. “Three–” he pauses, chuckling, “when you are–” then he has to keep counting.
The band starts behind them, nearly startling Wolfwood out of the steps, but Vash keeps him focused enough to not be too jarred until Vash lunges forward suddenly and dips him low. Scrambling, he grabs at Vash’s hands tightly and stares up at him with wide eyes–only to be met with the worst shit-eating grin ever.
“What the fuck, tongari?”
From her little seat at the bar, Meryl claps. Vash leans back, pulling Wolfwood up with him slowly, only to twist back into the steps they’d been in and keep the dance going. Wolfwood stumbles to keep up. His ears feel warm, like he’s been drinking far more than he’s had tonight.
“What the fuck,” he repeats, voice more of a stage whisper.
“Just having fun,” Vash replies easily, keeping the steps for a moment before saying, abruptly, “Spin,” and twirling Wolfwood. When Wolfwood is facing him again, his smile is even bigger. That wide smile he reserves for only Meryl and himself, worried it’ll unnerve other people with his sharp and too many teeth. Wolfwood wants to kiss him–once again, something he couldn’t blame the alcohol on if he wanted to.
The next time Vash dips him, Wolfwood finds himself looking at Meryl upside down. He smiles, a little of his startled cat nerves fading, and she leans down to plant a kiss on his lips before Vash reels him back up. He leans in, intent on kissing Vash too, only to be hefted up into a lift–up over Vash’s head.
“Tongari!”
Vash laughs and Wolfwood flails his arms, trying to balance even when Vash clearly isn’t having trouble keeping him aloft. When Vash sets him back on his feet he spins him again and immediately drops down into a dip, the song ending. Lingering there a moment, he smiles something softer–something crawled from a quiet place that doesn’t involve making Wolfwood yelp like a startled animal–and leans in to kiss him.
It’s quick, just a soft little peck before Vash lifts him back up to a standing position and tosses an arm around Wolfwood’s shoulders, but it holds the same love that smile did. And the same love that Wolfwood feels when Meryl half hops half falls off her stool to bounce over to them and squeeze herself between them in a hug.
Things are bad. Arguably worse than Wolfwood even fully understands. The world could end any day now. But for the moment, at least, there’s a slice of peace to enjoy as they join Roberto at a table and bicker over bar food and beers.
“Promise you’ll dance with me like that when I’m not… uh, well I’m not drunk,” Meryl stresses, poking a finger against Vash’s side. “But when I’m… less dizzy.”
Vash smiles and presses a kiss to her temple. “Of course,” he tells her. “Wolfwood could do a better job than me once he gets the hang of it, too.”
Meryl glances at him briefly and wrinkles her nose. “I don’t think… I don’t think I want to be handled like the Punisher,” she says slowly.
Wolfwood just laughs and wiggles his fingers at her in a little grabbing motion. “C’mere missy,” he coos, “you don’t know what dizzy is yet.”
Meryl squawks, swatting at him, and leans closer to Roberto next to her. He glances down at her and mimes as if he’s about to ash his cigarette into her hair and she whines, grabbing for Vash on her other side. Dutifully, he wraps an arm around her shoulders and tuts at the other two at the table.
“Be nice to little drunk Meryl,” he scolds.
“She is more fun than little sober newbie,” Roberto offers, chuckling.
“I’m not drunk,” Meryl insists, peering over Vash’s arm at them both sulkily. “I’ve had just enough.”
Just enough to have fun. Really, maybe that was all they needed.
“So,” Wolfwood drawls, leaning on his elbows at the table. “What was my present for coming out for this anyway?”
Vash and Meryl trade looks, beaming at each other, then Vash directs that too wide smile his way. Oh… oh dear.
“You can have that in a little bit,” he says, “back at the hotel room.”
Next to Meryl, Roberto snorts a laugh into his drink and almost spits it. Wolfwood’s face feels hot and he can only nod, ducking a little in his seat.
“Better be good,” he says.
“The night is young,” Vash says, “we’ll make sure you enjoy it as long as you can.”