Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Meryl frowned at the storefront, glancing between it and the flyer she’d picked up from the train station in Jeneora Rock. It was quaint, no doubt, but looked much more… rundown than she had expected. Almost as if it had been an abandoned building just days before. The brick facade was cracking and the light blue paint on the windowsills left a lot to be desired. Even the copious amounts of planters couldn’t save the storefront, though they were charming.

Roberto eyed the front door, taking a slow drink from his flask. “Are you sure this is the right spot, newbie?”

“It’s Meryl Stryfe ,” she grumbled, double checking the address on her phone. “Yeah, this is apparently the right spot. It looks… different from what I was expecting.”

“If he’s skipping out on his taxes, he should have enough money to fix his coffee shop,” Roberto muttered.

She huffed, rolling her eyes. “We don’t know if he’s actually committing tax evasion, sir! That’s why we’re here: to figure out what this guy’s deal is.” Tucking her phone away, she fumbled with her backpack’s zipper, pulling out a small spiral notebook. Despite having bought it recently, it was already falling apart. It got the job done, though, and she flipped it open. “‘Love and Coffee’ is a locally owned coffee shop in Jeneora Rock. It is well-known and well-loved for its comforting atmosphere, the friendly owner, and for seemingly moving locations overnight.”

Roberto raised a brow, mustache twitching as he turned to stare through the window. “Kind of odd, isn’t it? Why would a coffee shop have to keep moving around, huh?”

Meryl reached for the pencil behind her ear, tapping it against the notebook. “That’s what we’re here to find out, sir. These people deserve to know if they’re being scammed or not.” She started walking towards the man standing by the entrance.

The man perked up, waving at her enthusiastically, his whole body wiggling with the motion. “Hi there! Welcome to Love and Coffee! I haven’t seen you around before, I don’t think?”

Meryl shook her head bemusedly. This guy, all sunny smiles and fluffy blond hair, looked too sweet to be a criminal. “We’re here with Bernardelli News, actually. There’s been a lot of buzz about your coffee shop, and we wanted to do a story on it!”

Roberto coughed from behind her, and it took everything in her to not glare at him. The man didn’t look fazed, though; in fact he lit up even brighter, if that was at all possible.

“A story?” he gasped, bouncing in place. “On my coffee shop?”

She nodded, smiling despite herself. “Yes, sir! If you’d like to, of course. We had a lot of people recommend Love and Coffee to us, too.”

“Aw shucks,” he chuckled, rubbing the back of his head with — and how was she just now noticing this? — his prosthetic hand, balancing a tray of coffee cups in the other. “It’s not all that great, but I’d be happy to talk about Jeneora’s coffee scene with you!”

Roberto cleared his throat, and the man’s eyes flicked to him. “ Your coffee shop, kid. Not Jeneora’s.”

“Oh, no, whatever’s mine is theirs! Love and Coffee wouldn’t be half of what it is without everyone else,” he said, affection seeping through his tone. 

Yeah, no way this guy was a criminal, Meryl decided. He loved the town far too much for that.

“Oh, before we begin—” he thrust the tray towards Meryl and Roberto, smiling encouragingly. “Try some so that you know what you’re getting into! I think I have some pastries that are almost ready, too. Ah, just come in!”

Meryl blinked, exchanging a glance with Roberto, who seemed just as confused. They were here to do a story on a mom-and-pop coffee shop, and the owner was offering them free stuff— it was a clear case of bribery, and Meryl was about to decline when Roberto stepped towards the door, pushing it open.

“Sure thing, kid. Lead the way.”

“Sir—” she started, ignoring the man’s cheering.

Roberto sighed, leaning down to whisper sharply to her. “Listen, rookie, we’re both well-versed in journalistic integrity, or whatever you keep saying. But the coffee smells damn good, and this is just evidence that he could be evading his taxes.”

She opened her mouth, then snapped it shut, huffing. “Fine. But if you get poisoned—”

“My liver’s been through worse.” With that, Roberto walked into the coffee shop, letting the door swing shut on Meryl’s face. She scoffed, following him. So much for ‘journalistic integrity.’

“Welcome to my humble little coffee haven,” the man said dramatically, bowing with a flourish. One of the cozy little booths was already set with a plate of golden brown danishes, three steaming cups of coffee, and a creamer-and-sugar set. “What brings Bernardelli to Jeneora Rock?”

Meryl settled into the booth, Roberto slipping in next to her. The man sat across from them, blinking curiously. She gestured for the man to wait, taking out her notebook, pencil, and a recorder. He paused as she set the recorder down, and she bit back a frown. That was an odd reaction for such a seemingly normal man.

Innocent until proven guilty , she reminded herself, then smiled apologetically at him.

“Just to keep a transcript of the interview,” she explained, ignoring Roberto’s sharp look. “Do you mind if we record you?”

As quickly as the discomfort came, it was gone, and the man was back to smiling brightly at them. “Sure thing, Miss…?”

She grimaced, holding out a hand. Everything really was out of order today. “Meryl Stryfe, with the Bernardelli News Agency. That’s my mentor, Roberto De Niro.”

He grunted. “Way to reveal my government name to everyone, newbie.”

Meryl raised an eyebrow. “There’s only one other person here.” He may have been a criminal, but he was still only one other person.

The man laughed, shaking her hand. “Let’s hope the morning rush starts later than usual today, otherwise it really will be everyone!”

“Oh! Do you usually have really busy mornings?” Meryl asked, clicking the recorder on. Having to cut out the rustling of her notebook would be annoying, but that was one of her interview questions; might as well make it count.

The man hummed thoughtfully, breaking off a piece of a danish. “It depends on the school schedule, honestly, but usually I do. The evening rush is also pretty busy, but that crowd is more interested in sandwiches than coffee.”

She nodded, scribbling down his answer. Learning shorthand was one of the best uses of her time, really. “I see. Would you say you serve only a portion of the community, the entire thing, only local areas…?”

The man’s expression softened, and he laughed lightly. “Not to brag, but I think I do serve the entire community. Basically everyone knows about Love and Coffee, and I think I’ve seen most of the town twice at least. In fact…” He glanced towards the door, leaning out of the booth. “Let me introduce you to one of my regulars!”

Meryl hummed politely and turned the recorder off as Vash all but leapt out of his seat, rushing towards the door with a bright smile on his face. Roberto snuck another swig from his flask, sighing contentedly.

“Strange guy, but the coffee is damn good,” he mumbled. “Maybe we should let him keep getting away with tax evasion if he makes coffee this good.”

“ Sir. ” Meryl stared at Roberto in shock. “We can’t let him get away with tax evasion.” She paused, taking a sip of the coffee. “ Even if the coffee is good.”

The bell above the door chimed merrily, and laughter filled the coffee shop— a woman, the man, and a kid. She craned her neck to look around Roberto, unable to hold in a smile of her own at the scene. The man had scooped up the kid in his arms and was twirling him around; the woman watched on with a grin, hand perched on her pregnant belly.

“Rosa! How — whoa, buddy, don’t take my glasses — how are you?” the man asked, leaning away from the kid’s hands. “How’s the little entomologist?”

Rosa shrugged. “Why don’t you ask him yourself?”

The man snorted, but turned dutifully to the kid. “Well, Tonis? How are you?”

“I’m good! Momma took pictures of the worms I found to show you!” Tonis chirped, settling himself more comfortably in the man’s arms. “Please, Momma? Show him?”

“Let me get my coffee first, you little rascal,” Rosa laughed, ruffling his hair. “The usual, please.”

“Sure thing, Rosa!” With that, the man put down Tonis gently, making his way behind the counter and chatting all the while.

Rosa didn’t seem to have any trouble keeping up with him, despite him chattering at at least a hundred miles per hour. Tonis, too, was perfectly preoccupied with the dozens of plants littering the shop. It was a homely scene, Meryl had to admit. The walls were a pretty beige, decorated with artwork–all local, if she was right–and dark oak shelves lined with trinkets and even more plants.

“He has a green thumb,” she noted, scanning the blooms. Every pot had a different type of flower, but it was clear they were all well cared for. “I can see why people like this place.”

Rosa’s eyes snapped to them, and Meryl felt a chill descend over their booth specifically. She swallowed slightly, Roberto stiffening beside her. Even the man’s incessant talking stopped suddenly. She waved timidly.

“Reporters?” Rosa asked, voice flat.

Roberto nodded, flashing his badge. Things were getting serious, then. “Roberto De Niro, and my trainee, Meryl Stryfe. We’re with Bernardelli.”

Rosa scowled, crossing her arms. “And what, exactly, are you doing with our Vash?”

The man — Vash, apparently — laughed nervously, cutting through the tense silence. “No need to worry, Rosa! They’re just here to do a story on Love and Coffee, and Jeneora’s coffee scene!”

Meryl nodded absently. “Y-Yeah. Just a story on the coffee scene! Nothing else.”

“Can’t believe you forgot to ask our interviewee’s name first thing,” Roberto grumbled, picking up one of the danishes. “You said you were the top of your class, rookie.”

Rosa’s glare didn’t ease up, and it really was becoming downright chilly in their corner of the coffee shop. “Don’t try anything funny with him, you hear me? He’s real important to us, and it’d be a shame if we had to run you two out of town.”

“N-No need, Rosa! It’s fine, I promise!” Vash said, a touch too loud. He shoved the takeaway cup towards her, holding out a small paper plate with two pieces of cake on it. “Here you go!”

Rosa frowned, finally looking away from them. Meryl blew out a breath, finally untensing. “What did I say about the freebies, Vash?”

“Not to hand them out,” Vash sighed. “But it’s World Honeybee Day. I can’t not hand out free cake on World Honeybee Day.”

Rosa’s frown deepened. Vash just grinned wider. “And Tonis asked so nicely last time. I’m not letting the little guy down!”

“I’m going to stop coming by,” she muttered, taking the cake anyway. “I swear I will, one day.”

“Rosa, no!” Vash whined, his puppy eyes brightening as she put a few bills in the tip jar. Meryl snickered, taking a bite of one of the danishes. Really, was everything in this place so dang good?

“Mr. Vash, can we finish the interview?” she finally called, Roberto’s glare boring holes into the side of her face. “It looks like your morning rush is going to start soon.”

“Oh shoot! Yeah, I’m so sorry. I completely forgot about the interview! Uh, do you want some danishes to go, or—?” He was clearly about to go on a tangent, but Roberto’s raised brow and Rosa’s aggressive throat clearing cut him off. He slumped. “Okay. Let’s finish the interview.”

“Ms. Rosa, would it be alright if we asked you some questions as well? We can keep it anonymous, if you’d like?” Meryl asked as Vash settled into the booth across from them again. Rosa narrowed her eyes at them, then shrugged.

“Fine. A few questions, then I need to head out.”

Meryl grinned, clicking the recorder back on. “No problem!”

Chapter Text

“Okay, so we agree that Vash is definitely hiding something, right?” Meryl asked, skimming the interview transcript.

“Oh, definitely. Kid thinks he’s slick—” Roberto took a hearty swig from his flask, sighing loudly, “—but he’s not. We just gotta figure out what he’s hiding.”

Meryl nodded, chewing on the end of her pen. Really, it could be an infinite number of things: Jeneora Rock was a small place, so the probability of him running a front for the mafia would be equivalent to the probability of him just being an airhead and not keeping track of his profit margins. Though he didn’t seem like he would be running a mafia front. Vash was evasive and turned every question back on them, sure, but he didn’t seem to be the type of malicious they’d come across in JuLai’s inner city.

“Don’t rule out any possibility just yet, newbie,” Roberto grumbled, interrupting her train of thought. He had an uncanny ability to know what she was thinking, honestly. “It could all be an act.”

“Well, yeah, but do you really think Rosa would’ve brought her kid there if he was dangerous?”

Roberto raised a brow. “We barely know Rosa. I’m not basing my judgement off a woman we met this morning.”

“That makes sense,” Meryl said slowly. “But she seems like the no nonsense type, and she’s like a bloodhound when it comes to… uh, what did she say? Suspicious loitering?”

“It ain’t loitering if we’re paying customers, and the owner invites us in,” Roberto pointed out.

“Yeah, yeah— wait! Speaking of inviting us in…” Meryl turned to face Roberto properly, frowning. “I know his profit margins must be all out of whack, but how can he afford to give away all that free stuff? He gave something to every customer that came by! And us!”

Roberto hummed, narrowing his eyes at the transcript, which was weighed down by a lamp to keep the hotel fan from blowing it away. “Two options: tax evasion or money laundering. Pick your poison.”

“Huh?” She blinked. “Isn’t speculation from journalists not allowed?”

“Yeah, ‘cause we ain’t storytellers. But this isn’t speculation,” Roberto said, voice lowering in the way it always did when he was going to break the rules. “This is us following a lead. What d’ya say, rookie?”

Meryl decided, graciously, to not point out that they were still “following a lead” based on speculation; an argument with her mentor was the last thing she needed right now. Still, she couldn’t deny that it was a compelling idea. She could already see the headlines, if this turned out to be true: ‘Local coffee shop owner busted for tax evasion in a sleepy town’ had a certain ring to it. She frowned at that thought. Maybe it could use some workshopping.

Roberto smirked, leaning back in his chair and picking his flask back up. “Well? What d’ya say?”

Meryl shot a glare at him but nodded definitely. “Okay, we’ll investigate financial fraud. Erm, how do we plan on doing that , though?”

“That’s for you to figure out, newbie. Get to it.”

She groaned, but turned back to her notebook. They had already searched his first name in the criminal database and came up empty handed. Though, oddly enough, there did seem to be a familial tie with Millions Knives Saverem. A coffee tycoon and an independent shop owner made for an odd combination, and money transfers could be entirely possible. Maybe…

“What if we get a job there?” Meryl blurted.

“A job?” Roberto raised an eyebrow. “Would he even hire us?” Based on the crowd they’d seen that morning, Vash could certainly use the help, but whether he’d want them was a different question.

Meryl snorted. “We could ask really politely and he would probably sell us the shop, Mr. De Niro.”

That was the other thing. He sighed. “Fine. Call early tomorrow and ask about hiring.”

“Will do!” she said, grinning. This was going to be easy.

It was not easy. Meryl had discovered that Vash was horrifically resistant to accepting help in her ninety minute long conversation. She mentioned how her and Roberto could use the extra money for their extended stay; Vash offered to help them job hunt. She said they’d like to work at the coffee shop; Vash had immediately started sputtering, saying something about ‘stressful working conditions’ and how he ‘wouldn’t want them to feel pressured.’ She sighed.

Roberto sat across from her in the hotel’s dingy breakfast area, chewing on a cigarette and flipping through the local newspaper. He seemed perfectly amused by her struggle, even choking on a laugh as she was cut off mid-sentence by the call dropping. She stared at her phone.

“His phone died. His phone died , sir,” she muttered. “He didn’t even give us the jobs.”

“Guess asking real nicely didn’t work out after all,” Roberto said, snorting. “Alright. What’s plan B, rookie?”

“Plan B?” She set her phone down, a grin creeping across her face. “Well, plan B is you breaking into his office to look at the books, and I take over the register. Then he has no choice but to hire us.”

Roberto blinked, slowly folding the newspaper. “You can’t be serious.”

She raised a brow. Roberto’s frown deepened.

“When we get arrested, you’re paying the bail.”

Meryl waved a hand. “He won’t call the police on us. It’ll be more trouble for him than it would be for us.”

“No thanks to that brother of his,” Roberto grumbled, getting up with a pop and a groan. “Well? Let’s hustle, newbie. We have somewhere to get employed.”

Meryl was delighted to find out she was right. Vash had greeted her cheerfully when she walked into the shop, already trying to guess her order of the day as if she was a regular. The small talk with him was pleasant, and she had the perfect vantage point to watch Roberto force the backroom window open.

“Wait, no, scratch my last guess,” Vash exclaimed, fidgeting with one of the coffee machines. “You seem like a… flat white type of girl. How’d I do this time?”

Meryl shrugged. “You got—”

A horrible screeching interrupted her, and Vash whipped around, hand going for… was that a knife? Maybe this was a mafia front. She silently cursed Roberto for his early interruption, only for Vash to turn and give her an apologetic smile.

“Sorry, Meryl. I have to go handle that.” And with that, he dashed into the backroom, leaving the knife on the counter. 

She waited a few seconds, then smirked, stepping behind the counter. The register was, thankfully, one that she had worked with before. The customers in line behind her frowned disapprovingly, and an old lady even stepped up, glaring sharply at her.

“Now don’t you dare try to rob our Vash,” she snapped. Meryl paused. Who knew a little old lady could be so intimidating? “We’ll run you and your other reporter friend out of town, missy.”

Meryl held up her hands placatingly, shaking her head. “It’s nothing like that, ma’am. I’m just giving Vash the help that he needs. He’s so overworked, so I figured I could man the register for today!”

The old lady frowned, and Meryl silently cursed Roberto for forcing her to lie. All he had to do was break in quietly! “Well, if we ever hear otherwise—”

“Roberto?!” Vash shrieked from the backroom, cutting the old lady off. “What are you doing? ”

“Kid.” Roberto sounded perfectly aghast, and the rustling of paper filled the silence. “What are you doing? Your bookkeeping is shit, your file cabinets are a damn fire hazard, and I can’t even find a pen in this mess!”

“Are— are you doing my paperwork?” Vash asked, sounding wholly pathetic. “Roberto—”

“Shut it, kid. I’m doing your bookkeeping from now on, you hear me?”

“Rob—”

“ You hear me? ”

A heavy sigh, followed by mumbling. Meryl snorted. Leave it to Roberto to brute force his way into employment. The rest of the exchange was too quiet to make out, but the old lady seemed even more confused, glancing between the backroom and Meryl.

“You both are helping Vash?” she asked, frowning.

Meryl beamed. “We sure are! Next order, please!”

The man who was behind her in line stepped up, seemingly unphased. “Piccolo latte with a plain bagel.”

She punched in the order, keeping an ear on the backroom. At least there was no more arguing. “That’ll be $$7.48. Cash or card?”

“Cash,” the man said, fishing out his wallet. She nodded, clicking open the cash drawer.

“And can I get a name with that order?”

“Midvalley.” He dropped a ten double dollar bill into her hand. “Keep the change. Vash usually doesn’t take tips, but he’ll make an exception for you.”

She raised a brow, but shrugged, tucking the bill away. Meryl wasn’t sure how much she believed a guy named Midvalley –really, what kind of name was that?–who was carrying around an instrument case, but no one was glaring daggers at him, so she supposed he was fine.

“Thanks. Next!”

“Hot latte, no milk, extra ice, and strawberry syrup. Oh, and I’ll have a toasted gluten-free bagel with vegan cream cheese.”

Meryl stared at the new customer, slowly punching in his order. “That’ll be $$15.78.” No one needed to know that she gave him an upcharge for making Vash’s life a living hell. He may be a criminal, but no one should have to be subjected to this order with all its complications. “And what’s the name?”

The guy grinned, something manic glinting under his smile. “EG Mine! Can’t say I’ve seen you two reporters around Jeneora.”

She gave him a tight lipped smile. “We’re just trying to make some extra cash while we’re here on an extended assignment.”

At just that moment, Vash walked back in, looking like a kicked puppy. He was all apologetic smiles and red-rimmed eyes, only to freeze as he locked eyes with Meryl. Who was behind the counter. She waved hesitantly, smiling.

“Meryl, what are you doing?” Vash asked, voice wavering. “Please don’t steal from me. Roberto said that my profit margins are already horrible.”

She blinked, opening and closing her mouth a few times. This couldn’t be his strategy for avoiding getting robbed, could it? Just pouting and looking sad?

“No, I’m not— of course I’m not robbing you!” she finally yelled, waving her arms. “I’m manning the register from now on! Hire me!”

He frowned, looking more and more desperate by the second. “Meryl, if you two are in this much of a money crunch, I can loan—”

“Hire me!” she repeated, louder this time. “You have two orders waiting for you, by the way! Midvalley and… EG Mine.”

“Two— oh my God, Meryl ,” he groaned. “Fine! You and Roberto are both hired! Have you printed the order tickets yet?”

She pointed at the counter with all the coffee machines, but snapped her fingers before he could start working on them. “First order of business, after Roberto organizes your books, is getting your register and order system upgraded.”

Vash scowled, but nodded. “You might as well run the shop now,” he grumbled. “What am I even here for?”

Meryl grinned. This was going to go great , now that accessing his books wasn’t an issue. She really should start workshopping that headline.

Chapter Text

The sun still had thirty minutes until it came up, but Vash wasn’t complaining. The week after “hiring” the reporters–as if they didn’t just insert themselves into his shop and life–was business as usual. Although, unfortunately, he couldn’t give out as many free samples anymore. Not only would Roberto have his head for messing with his profit margins–again–, but Meryl simply snatched the treats out of his hand. And worst of all? His own customers nodded approvingly at not getting their treats!

After begging and pleading, Roberto and Meryl agreed to let him give the kids one pastry per day. It was still less than he’d like, but at least it made one person’s day at a time. He smiled, thinking back to Tonis lighting up after he gave him a blueberry muffin.

“Oh shoot!” He was shaken out of his recollections when his skateboard hit a concerningly large crack in the sidewalk. He stumbled off of it, cursing quietly as he kicked his skateboard towards the grass, the trailer of plants wobbling precariously.

“Please don’t be ruined, please don’t be ruined,” he muttered, kneeling to examine the small pots. These were the smallest of his shop’s plants, and the easiest to move to a new location. However, a downside of them being the smallest was that they were the most fragile, too. “Okay, okay… basil looks fine. Rosemary is a little bruised, but she’ll live. Thyme is doing great as always! What a trooper. Oregano’s okay too. Oh no, I’ll have to repot the Holy Basil.” He sighed, shaking his head. “Poor thing— oh shoot! My mint!”

He lifted up the biggest of the small pots to eye level, anxiously scanning the plant. Some of its leaves were crushed and the plant was bending weirdly, but… oh, he hoped it would survive. Even the bottom of the pot was cracked, the mint’s roots poking through. Then he paused, frowning. It was mint; why was he worried? It was strong enough to wreck this pot, too. He wouldn’t be free of this thing even if he wanted to be.

Vash huffed, righting all the pots again and dragging his skateboard back to the sidewalk, its trailer jingling behind it merrily. This was probably the worst part of his overnight location switches: his plants were in near constant danger until he got the shelving set back up. And that wasn’t even mentioning the nightmare that was carrying his larger plants and more delicate flowers! Moving days were his least favorite, but at least no one seemed to complain about it. Of course, his own body screaming after doing manual labor all night didn’t count; it was too risky to stick around in one place for too long, and being in Jeneora Rock for even this long didn’t feel safe. But the weather was nice, his plants were thriving, the community loved his coffee, and now he had to account for having employees.

He grimaced, pulling out his flip phone. He really should invest in a new phone now that he actually had to text his employees, but this one was working fine, so long as he ignored all the scratches and the broken casing. And the fact that it only held its charge for a few hours at most.

“To Meryl and Roberto,” he muttered out loud, squinting at the numerical keypad as he drafted the text, “Please come to the pink shop on the southwest edge of downtown at normal opening time. Ask Rosa if you get lost.”

He hit send, praying that it actually went through. The night was still young, and he had to move all his furniture. Vash sighed, kicking off again. Screw moving days.

Meryl stretched languidly, squinting at the bright summer light that filtered through her blinds. Six thirty in the morning, and she had work in an hour. While she was used to getting up at absurd times in the morning, doing so consistently was… more annoying, and made her all the more grateful that she got to do field journalism.

She slapped at her phone, turning the alarm off, then glanced at her notifications. She frowned. Vash had sent them a text in the employee group chat, which he never did. Either something went catastrophically wrong, they were being laid off, or Vash decided to finally accept their help. The latter seemed the least likely. She squinted at her screen.

[Vash]: pls cm 2 pnk shp @ sw dt @ nrml opng tm. ask r if lst

Meryl grimaced. This was a new kind of horror, really, and to be forced to read this at first light? It could qualify as cruel and unusual punishment. She rolled off her bed, groaning and padding over to the bathroom. If Roberto understood what the text said this early — which she sincerely doubted — he could do whatever Vash asked for himself. Meryl had yet to get ready for the day.

As if the universe decided to play every trick on her at once, there was a knock on the door as soon as she turned the shower on. She bit back a frustrated yell, flinging open the bathroom door and stomping towards the room’s door. Oops, she’d left the water running— oh well!

“What?” she snapped, glaring up at a still-sleepy Roberto.

He yawned, scratching his cheek. “Did ya understand what the kid said, newbie?”

Meryl’s eye twitched. Why Roberto was allergic to using people’s names, she didn’t know. “My name’s Meryl, Roberto. And no, I didn’t understand his secretly encoded message.”

He just grunted, turning away and walking towards his own room. Meryl huffed, closing her door–gently, this time–and stalked back to the bathroom. At least the water had warmed up nicely. She could figure out Vash and his encryptions during breakfast. That headline was coming closer by the second, honestly.

Their decrypting session at breakfast proved to be even less successful. Meryl had deciphered “please” and “normal opening,” but the rest of it was lost on her.

Roberto was even worse at it; he glanced at her screen, shrugged, and said: “Couldn’t tell ya, rookie. It’s like he’s allergic to grammar.”

She sighed deeply, stabbing at her hot-sauce-covered scrambled eggs that probably came out of a bottle. They were dry enough for it. “Please centimeters 2 punk shop at… southwest dut? At normal opening trademark. Ask R if last?” She grimaced. “Do we know any of the local gang lingo?”

Roberto raised a brow, swirling his cup of apple juice. At least one marked benefit of working at Love and Coffee was the free employee drink (that Vash, more often than not, turned into drinks. Plural.) each shift. Roberto had switched to skipping his morning coffee at the hotel and instead just waited until their shift.

“Newbie, I don’t care what criminal activity he’s involved in. I really don’t think it’s a gang either way.”

“Yeah, he doesn’t seem like a gangster… but it could be a front, like you said!” She got up, downing the rest of her milk. “I’ll go ask the clerk! Maybe they’ll know?”

Roberto just grunted, going back to tearing apart his slightly burnt and syrup-drenched waffle.

She jogged over to the front desk, where an old man was typing at the desktop. He managed to type rather fast, despite using only his pointer fingers. Meryl cleared her throat, and the man looked over, all frazzled hair and goofy goggles.

“Excuse me, Mister…?”

The man grinned, showing off his missing teeth. “Nebraska, young lassie! What do you need?”

“I was just wondering if you could explain this text to me,” she said, turning her phone towards him. “Vash isn’t a great texter. He never responds.”

Nebraska nodded, laughing. “Oh, that boy! No self-respect on that one, let me tell you.”

Meryl frowned. What did that mean? Before she could ask, Nebraska leaned forward, adjusting his goggles.

“It says ‘please come to the pink shop at southwest downtown at normal opening time. Ask Rosa if lost.’” He grinned. “It took him a whole week to move the shop this time! Maybe hiring you two will be good for him after all.”

“He moves the shop?” she asked, brows rising. “Why?”

Nebraska shrugged, turning back to the desktop. “Beats me! On your way, now. Opening time is coming!”

She glanced at the clock, blanching. “Uh oh! Thanks, Mr. Nebraska. We’ll see you later!”

Nebraska just cackled as Meryl raced out the door, Roberto shouting behind her. If she was going to get dirt on her boss, she couldn’t be late for work, that was for sure.

Vash raised a brow as Meryl ran into the shop, huffing and red faced, Roberto not far behind. The old man hunched over, wheezing and coughing.

“Uh, Roberto?” he asked hesitantly. “You good?”

Roberto waved his hand dismissively, still wheezing as he made his way over to the backroom. Vash shook his head, walking behind the counter as Meryl began counting the change in the register. Immediately, Roberto stormed out, cursing up a storm. Vash’s eyes widened. Oh no.

“Kid, what the hell?!” Roberto snapped. “Why are all the filing cabinets fucked up again? Why did you stuff all your papers in the cabinets again, right after I organized everything so that I could make sure you don’t go broke, you brat?”

Vash grimaced, rubbing the back of his neck. “I’m sorry, really! I just— I just didn’t have time to organize all the loose papers before moving day. I can help you fix it? I’m really sorry, Roberto.”

Roberto’s glare softened marginally, and he sighed, taking out his flask. “I don’t want you touching any of the paperwork without my permission, kid. Understand?”

“I understand,” Vash said, wringing his hands as Roberto walked back into the backrooms, muttering under his breath. He frowned deeply. “Meryl, I feel horrible! He worked so hard to organize all my papers and then I messed them up.”

Meryl rolled her eyes, clicking the register closed. “He’s just a grouch. Don’t sweat it.”

“I’m giving him a cookie and you can’t stop me.”

“You’ll add on to his financial stress, Vash. Make him pay for the cookie at least,” she said exasperatedly.

“After ruining all his hard work? Absolutely not! I’ll pay for it.” Vash deposited the money into the register and grabbed a freshly baked cookie. He wasn’t a great cook, but he’d never heard anything bad about his baking, so hopefully this would make up for messing up the filing cabinets. His mouth watered at the scent, but he quickly tossed the cookie onto a plate and grabbed Roberto’s go-to cup of coffee. It was Roberto’s cookie, not his. “I’ll be back!”

Meryl made a vague sound of acknowledgement, and Vash slipped into the backroom. He’d forgotten to eat dinner last night, and anything sweet sounded very tempting, but at this point, he wouldn’t be eating until dinner tonight. If that. Shaking his head to clear his thoughts, he knocked on Roberto’s makeshift office door, which was actually just a few curtains hung up. Roberto grumbled back, and he pushed aside the curtains with a sheepish smile.

“I got you coffee and a cookie as an apology. And don’t worry! I paid for it!” he asked, adding on the last bit as soon as he saw Roberto’s eye begin to twitch. “It’s one of my favorites, so I hope you like it!”

Roberto relaxed, chuckling slightly and taking a sip of the coffee. “Thanks, kid.”

“No problem, Roberto!” Vash chirped, stumbling over himself as he went back out. Meryl caught his eye, gesturing him over as she punched in a customer’s order. He tilted his head questioningly.

“I have an idea for how you can make up for messing up Roberto’s filing system,” she whispered.

He perked up. “What is it?”

“Upgrade your damn software! Digitize something so that he’s not sifting through five million papers,” she said. The customer snickered.

“Oh.” He pursed his lips, but nodded. “I should probably do that. I’ll figure out—”

“You mean you’ll have him figure out the budget,” Meryl interrupted, brow raised. He sighed.

“I’ll have him figure out the budget. Do you really think that’ll make up for it?”

Meryl nodded enthusiastically, her navy blue beret falling into her eyes. Vash chuckled, readjusting it as she spoke. “Totally! It’ll make it easier for you to move, too. And, speaking of—”

Vash grimaced. He forgot that people usually tend to ask about why he’s shifting locations so often, but Jeneora Rock has been a blessing in that regard. Everyone here allowed him to keep his secrets; that’s why he didn’t want to leave. But if Meryl began asking around…

“Why did you move locations? And how did you do it so perfectly?” she asked, cutting through his train of thought. He laughed nervously, shrugging.

“I can serve another section of Jeneora this way! It makes it fair for everyone, and I get a few new customers every time.”

It wasn’t even a lie! That was one of his reasons for moving around as often as he did. It just wasn’t the whole truth, and he had a nagging suspicion that Meryl didn’t believe him. Her raised brow was confirmation of that. Thankfully, as soon as she opened her mouth, a gaggle of high schoolers burst through the front door, laughing loudly. He sighed. Thank God for rowdy teenagers.

“And thus, rush hour begins,” he said solemnly, getting the coffee machines ready. Meryl snorted.

If he was being honest, working with someone was actually quite nice. It wasn’t like he couldn’t handle rush hour on his own — there was a reason his brother called him the ‘Humanoid Typhoon,’ after all —, but having Meryl there to wrangle the orders while he made them and dealt with upset customers was nice. He even managed to devote more time to each person!

And during the lull between the breakfast and lunch rushes, having someone to chat with made the shop less lonely, even if Meryl mostly talked about her work as a journalist. Vash made sure to listen with rapt attention as he cleaned, and it wasn’t hard; her field work did sound pretty interesting. Roberto made his once-a-day appearance during their lunch break, too, and made sure to remind Vash of his disastrous lunch offering on their third day at the café. He’d always thought he was a mediocre cook, but one look at Roberto and Meryl’s expressions as they tried his scrambled eggs shattered all of his culinary dreams.

All of that to say— it was nice having them around the shop, even if it was a temporary set up. Eventually, they’d have to get back to their actual jobs, or they’d get sick of him and his flighty little shop, or they’d get accosted by his brother. It could be anything, but he was grateful that they were here for now.

In the spirit of gratitude, he decided to invite them to his brother’s Fourth of July party. It wasn’t like Nai was particularly patriotic, but it was an excuse to get the twins together, even if Tesla couldn’t make it. As they were closing up shop, he turned to Meryl.

“Hey, are you and Roberto free on the Fourth of July?”

She raised a brow, wiping down the counter. “I should be. Why?”

Vash grinned, flipping the barstools upside down. “I wanted to invite you two to my brother’s party. It’ll be fun, I promise!”

“Your brother,” Meryl repeated slowly, a dusting of red on her cheeks. Was she embarrassed? “You have… a brother?”

He smiled confusedly, tilting his head. “Yeah? His name’s Nai! Or, well, I call him Nai.”

“...Sure. I’ll ask Roberto, but we should be free to come.”

Vash gasped, grabbing Meryl’s hand excitedly. “Yay! I’m glad! I’ll text you all the—”

“Oh God, don’t text us,” Meryl groaned. “You type like a telegram operator! One: why do you type like that? Two: just email us!”

Vash huffed, pulling out his trusty flip phone. “It’s easier to text like that on a flip phone, first of all, especially with a prosthetic. And fine, I’ll email you like a boring corporate boss.”

Meryl scoffed. “I’d prefer legibility over having to decipher a code, thanks.”

“You’re so mean, Meryl!” he laughed, pocketing his phone. This really was nice.

Chapter Text

Roberto narrowed his eyes at the doodled invitations Vash had handed him and Meryl after closing. To be fair, aside from being on a napkin, the invitation wasn’t ugly— the drawing was clearly rushed, but it depicted a house, a grill, and people well enough. And, more importantly, Vash had included two very important things: the time of the so-called party, and the address to Millions Knives’s house.

And wasn’t that an odd coincidence? Vash talked on and off about this brother of his — Nai , he called him —, and his chatter gave off the impression that Nai wasn’t all that bad. Intimidating, certainly, and definitely overly ambitious, but nothing dangerous, per se. Roberto had his suspicions about Nai, considering Vash had familial ties to Millions Knives, but to see it almost confirmed outright was surprising. He wouldn’t have deemed Vash Saverem, of all people, to be the brother of Millions Knives Saverem. One was too much of a pushover, and the other was too ruthless. The glowing reviews of Love and Coffee compared to the scathing editorials about Eye of Michael Brews certainly painted an interesting picture.

Believing that Vash was , in fact, laundering money was becoming easier by the minute. And given that the money may or may not have been Knives’s… The scheme all but fell into place. And until and unless Vash and his brother decided to plant a hit on Roberto and Meryl for finally taking a look at Vash’s disastrous finances, there was no reason to invite them to Knives’s house. It was an amateur set-up, really.

All of that should’ve convinced Roberto to say no, but two factors complicated the matter: his trainee desperately wanted to make friends with Vash, and the fact that Knives’s brother was… Vash. The guy didn’t even stand up for himself against angry customers; Roberto sincerely doubted he would plant a mob hit on two random reporters. Random reporters who had suspiciously inserted themselves into his life, admittedly, but they were still harmless.

“Please, Mr. Roberto?” Meryl begged for what must have been the tenth time that evening. “We can take some time to get to know our subject, right? Maybe we’ll find something at… Nai’s house!”

Roberto grunted, putting out his cigarette and dumping the ashtray’s contents into the trash. “Fine, newbie. We can go. But it’s on you if we get killed.”

She nodded vigorously, grinning ear to ear. “Thanks, sir!” Then, she leaned forward, her childish grin becoming something mischievous. “And, Vash said that he convinced his brother to stock up on drinks. How’s that sound?”

Roberto sighed. Curse his vices. Maybe the alcohol and cigarettes really would take him out before Millions Knives did.

•••

Vash hummed as he tossed the streamers over Nai’s fancy porch, wrapping them carefully around the poles. Bright blues and reds, occasionally broken up by silver and white, embellished the usually grey-and-beige house— all courtesy of Vash, of course. Though Knives had provided a few rolls of beige streamers, which was certainly an… interesting design choice for the Fourth of July. He was tempted to leave them in a corner, but his brother had actually contributed to the decorations for once, so that felt too rude. 

He glanced at the plants that lined the walls and floor, full of blooming geraniums, marigolds, petunias, carnations, and approximately every other flower under the sun. Flowers . Now there was an idea!

“You keep wrapping the pillars, Nai!” he said excitedly, tossing the roll of blue streamers at his brother. “I have an idea for the beige!”

Nai yelped, fumbling with the roll as he narrowed his eyes at Vash. “And that idea is what, exactly?”

Vash held up a finger, murmuring about waiting and having patience , and crouched down in the corner, next to the planters. Behind him, Nai huffed, and he could almost imagine the accompanying eye roll and the fond quirk of his lips. Carefully, he unraveled a length of beige streamer, pulling out a spare bobby pin. Now that Meryl was working with him, he figured it would be handy to keep a few hair essentials on hand for her— and now it was handy for him, too! He took the streamer and began folding it in on itself, bringing in the newly made petals to the middle. Gently, he pinned them in place and jumped up, spinning on his heels to grin at his brother.

“Tada!”

Nai glanced over, raising an eyebrow. “That’s a lovely…?”

“It’s a flower, Nai,” Vash huffed, rolling his eyes. “Use your eyes. I decided to make flowers out of the beige streamer, instead of hanging it up! It’s, like, the best of both decoration worlds.”

Nai’s icy demeanour shattered then, and he smiled gently at Vash. “I agree. Would you make more of those?”

“That was the plan!” he chirped, settling on the ground and tossing the bobby pins in front of them, delighting in the plinking sounds they made.

It really was a shame that the twins and Tesla were all so busy— Vash had long hours at Love and Coffee, Nai was CEO of Eye of Michael Brews, and Tesla was a neurosurgeon across the country . These small moments with his siblings made everything so much easier. It was like a balm on the ache that was Rem, soothing the jagged edges of Nai and lessening the ever-present aches in Vash and sanding down the rough parts of Tesla. He soaked in the time they had together as much as he could; they never knew when the next time would be.

And right now, with Nai’s rustling and murmuring weaving in and out of Vash’s own fidgeting and humming, it was the best balm he could have asked for. He could stay in this moment forever, really.

“What was it that you wanted me to get for your… employee?” Nai asked, breaking through the comfortable silence, disgust curling through the last word. “I just need to make sure I actually stocked that brew. Really, I have perfectly good microbrews, whiskey, and wines, and you wanted me to get dollar-store beer?”

Vash huffed, twisting around to face him. Anyone else would be concerned by his flexibility; Nai just clicked his tongue disapprovingly. “He’s an old man, Nai. I’m sure you can be oh-so-gracious and forgive a guy for his tastes.”

“You keep the oddest company, baby brother.” Nai sighed, shaking his head. “Pray tell, why did you decide to invite your employees to this party? Was it not enough that I agreed to host it this year?”

“I thought it’d make them feel welcome! Besides, I haven’t invited anyone in, like, two years. Wouldn’t it be nice to have some new faces around?” Vash smirked. “Or are you worried someone else is going to catch Legato’s eye?”

Nai sputtered, tossing the nearly empty roll of red streamer at Vash’s head. “W-Why would I care about someone catching Bluesummers’s eye?!”

Vash cackled, catching the roll midair. “I’m just saying!”

“You’re unbelievable,” Nai grumbled, turning back to the last pillar. “We’ll begin hanging up the flowers once I’m done with this last pillar. Tell me about these employees.”

Vash hummed. For the most part, Roberto and Meryl were perfectly decent people. A little nosy, sure, but well meaning. He knew Nai wouldn’t like them too much as is, considering how they forced their way into Vash’s life, and he certainly wouldn’t like them if he knew they were journalists. He’d have to warn them to not mention their jobs while they’re here.

“They’re great!” he finally chirped. “Roberto’s really good with the shop’s finances, but he did force me to stop giving out free samples.”

Nai narrowed his eyes, but nodded once. Approval. “I’m glad you finally hired some slightly competent financial help. I’m shocked Love and Coffee has survived as long as it has with your habit of giving out ‘free samples.’ Which is foolish, by the way.”

“It makes people happy, Nai. It’s not ‘foolish’ if it’s doing something good,” Vash sniped back. “Besides, I have the money from Rem. I still make enough to keep the shop running without making a huge dent in my inheritance, I’ll have you know.”

Nai frowned, but thankfully didn’t push further. Instead, he asked: “Fine. What about the other one?”

He grinned. “Meryl’s awesome. She’s a spitfire, let me tell you. You know that guy, EG Mine or whatever? The second time he came in with his crazy order, Meryl looked him dead in the eye and told him to, and I quote, ‘Fuck off with your bullshit.’” Vash snorted at the memory. “It’s the first and only time I’ve seen her get so fired up. And then she physically dragged him out of the shop.”

Nai hummed. “She forced EG Mine out? Any particular reason?”

“I told you his order, right?” Vash asked, raising a brow. “It’s a pain to make, and he didn’t even tip well. Other customers had complaints, too.”

“Kicking customers out just due to an odd order isn’t great business practice,” Nai said after a moment’s silence. “You’re limiting your clientele if you do that.”

Vash narrowed his eyes, standing up with the armful of beige streamer flowers. “What are you saying, Nai?”

“Vash, I have a proposal.” Nai plucked one of the flowers from his arms, sticking it to the pillar. “I’ll buy Love and Coffee for you and make it truly profitable. You’ll get a majority of the share, of course, and you can even keep managing it, if you wish.”

Vash gaped at him, mouth working around a few very impolite words. Did his brother really think that he did what he did for the money ? He knew him and Nai had drifted apart after college, with Nai going on to medical school and Vash getting a masters in business and management instead, but there was no way they had changed this much .

“Are you serious?” he finally choked out, staring at Nai.

“Of course. Why would I joke about this?”

He shook his head, taking a deep breath. “Absolutely not. I know you’re doing huge things with Eye of Michael, but I refuse to let Love and Coffee turn into another corporate, cookie-cutter coffee shop, understand?”

Even as he said it, he knew that Nai didn’t . They’d both wanted to start a coffee shop together, at one time, and had wanted to model it after Rem’s favorite café. But then… who knows what it was? Whether it was that Vash remained too idealistic or that greed had finally gotten to Nai, they ended up starting separate businesses. Vash stayed true to their original, homely vision, but Nai turned towards marketability. It was frustrating, but it wasn’t like either of them were doing badly! There was no reason to ask for Vash’s shop, too.

Nai’s expression hardened. “You know we produce some of the highest quality coffee in the country, Vash. It would be a massive selling point for your shop. You could even keep running it how you are, save for the free samples.”

“Nai, I’d do a lot of things for you,” he growled, “but this is not one of them. I am absolutely not selling my shop to you. Don’t ask me again.”

Nai opened his mouth, but Vash cut him off, scowling. “I said don’t , Nai. We’re not talking about this anymore. How would you like it if I said I wanted to buy your business?”

Nai sniffed. “I’d call you a fool. You don’t know how to run a business. And you couldn’t afford it, anyway.”

Vash gave him a tight-lipped smile. “My point exactly. Now, let’s finish the decorations. The party starts in two hours and we still have to get ready!”

“Fine.” Nai plucked another flower from his arms. “Be handy with the tape too, Vash.”

“I only have one hand, brother dearest,” Vash jibed, shifting the flowers into the crook of one arm and grabbing the tape dispenser with the other anyway.

Chapter Text

Frankly, Meryl shouldn’t have been surprised by the extravagant, yet still bland, suburban house. It was on just that side of chic — modern enough that it was easy on the eyes, but still very much for rich people only. That is to say: it was all hard angles in neutral tones. She hated it. Even the decorations–colorful streamers, sparkly banners and wall decor–couldn’t save it. Meryl and Roberto rounded the house, the smell of overly expensive alcohol and charcoal smoke guiding them to the backyard.

The backyard and porch were definitely more fun, and Vash’s hand in it was clear. He decorated in a cluttered but charming way, and the walls and pillars of the porch were absolutely covered with red, white, and blue. And — supposedly because Millions Knives never learned to let loose and live a little — beige flowers. Roberto hummed, nodding.

“I’m impressed. The kid somehow managed to make this magazine dump look homely,” he said, and, to Meryl’s surprise, seemed wholly genuine in the compliment.

“His decorating style is cute!” she whispered, tip-toeing over to where Vash was. “Super fun.”

Roberto narrowed his eyes. “Newbie, what are you doing?”

Dammit. He was loud. She yelped, stumbling back as Vash spun around to greet them, a huge sunny smile on his face. Jesus Christ. Someone needed to tell the sun to let him take over, too.

“Roberto! Meryl!” he yelled excitedly, waving at them as if Meryl wasn’t practically beside him, and Roberto wasn’t a few paces away. “I’m so glad you two could make it! Did you find the place okay?”

“Yep. The whole house is basically an advertisement for the party,” she noted, amused.

Vash grinned. “Glad to see my magic worked. Oh, let me introduce you to—”

He was interrupted by an icier, broader, and meaner version of himself. Paler, too, but that was a given considering who this guy was. Meryl doubted he ever saw the sun.

“Millions Knives,” his brother said smoothly, holding out a hand. “Call me Knives.”

She grimaced, hoping that it looked more like a smile, and shook his hand. “Meryl Stryfe. Pleased to make your acquaintance.”

Knives nodded, turning to Roberto. “And you are?”

“Roberto De Niro. Heard a lot about ya.”

“I’m not surprised,” Knives said smugly. Vash rolled his eyes, getting between Roberto and his brother.

“We aren’t talking shop, guys! Let’s leave the coffee biz for Monday.”

Meryl knew siblings could be different, but this was just a shocking contrast. Vash was all rainbows and puppies, sunny smiles and dorky jokes; Knives was all ice and — funnily enough — steel, impassive glares and scary silence. How they ended up brothers was as good a question as any, and how they stayed as brothers was an even better one.

“Sure thing, boss,” she teased, stepping onto his feet. “Will we get a raise for it?”

Vash snorted, pushing her away with a hand to the face. “We’ll talk about it, Meryl.”

“No the hell we won’t,” Roberto scoffed, already scanning the drink selection. His liver was a miracle worker, really. “We’re not changing the budget after I spent all of last week organizing it.”

At that, Knives smirked slightly. “I see my baby brother is still struggling with his finances.”

Vash kicked at him, smile going tight around the edges. “Shut up, Nai. Go make your vegan hotdogs or whatever.”

“Brat,” he muttered, but still wandered back to the grill. Meryl raised a brow, watching him.

“He’s something else.” She sighed, glancing back at Vash. A small frown pulled at his lips, but he smoothed the expression away as soon as she looked over. “What happened? Are you okay?”

“Oh yeah, yeah,” he said flippantly, waving his hand. “All good. And don’t worry, the other guests are coming soon! It won’t be just the four of us.”

“Oh god, that would be horrible.” Meryl shuddered. Vash was great, Roberto was fine, but having to be around Knives with the possibility of being one-on-one… the thought gave her the creeps, honestly.

Vash just smiled. “It’s not that bad.”

•••

Another fifteen minutes had the party in full swing, in its own special way. Granted, there was a noticeable lack of loud music — the orchestral stuff did not get him in a party mood, unfortunately —, a devastating lack of dancing, quiet murmuring in place of yelling, and fancy dresses not befitting a Fourth of July party. At least the food would be good, unless Conrad was a damn liar. Both were equally possible.

Wolfwood sighed, readjusting his suit cuffs. Why Knives insisted they wear suits and cocktail dresses to a party in the middle of July, he would never understand. Next to him, Livio looked positively overheated, his cheeks flushed and his eyes glued to the water canister. Wolfwood sympathized, but that didn’t stop him from leaning over and nudging his brother.

“You look like you wanna fuck the water, Liv,” he jeered, “C’mon, get to it.”

Livio scowled, shoving him away and messing up his carefully done hair. It had taken him a whole two minutes! “Fuck off, Nick. You’re sucking on that cigarette like it's a lifeline.”

He snorted. “Look where we are, dude. We’re at Millions Knives’s house, attending his lame ass party, and we can’t even be on our phones ‘cause Miss Melanie told us it was ‘rude.’ You know Knives will snitch on our asses. It is a lifeline.”

“Whatever, man. Your blood has to be twenty-five percent alcohol and twenty-five percent nicotine at this point.”

“They don’t call me ‘Nico’ for nothin’,” he said, shrugging. “What’s the other fifty percent?”

Livio stared at him, an amusing mix of bewildered and exasperated. Wolfwood grinned, savoring the smoke in his lungs as he waited for Livio to speak. Flabbergasting his brother and chain-smoking had to be two of his favorite activities, really.

“Blood, Nicholas,” Livio finally sighed, “the other fifty percent of your blood is blood.”

“Wise words from a wise man. You’re really putting that college degree to use, Liv.”

“I’m gonna put it to use in your ass if you don’t—” Livio started, only to be cut off by a cheery voice.

“Hello! I don’t think I’ve seen you two around,” the new guy said, glancing between them. “Are you new in Nai’s, uh, administration team?”

Wolfwood had to actively work to keep his jaw from dropping. The new guy was gorgeous , all fluffy blond hair and long, dark lashes and piercing blue eyes hidden behind the most adorable, dorky pair of tinted sunglasses he had ever seen. And, as if Wolfwood didn’t already have enough eye candy, right under the man’s eye, on the jut of his finely sculpted cheekbones, was a beauty mark.

“Daivathe sthuthikkuka,” Wolfwood muttered, slinking behind Livio. “Ayaalkku yathaarthanaakan kazhiyilla.” [1]

Livio coughed loudly, laughing over his words. “Sorry, yeah, hi! We forgot to introduce ourselves. I’m Livio, one of the new people in admin. And you are…?”

“Vash!” the guy chirped, and good God his voice . Wolfwood could listen to him speak forever. “It’s great to meet you, Livio! And, um, if you don’t mind me asking—” Vash leaned over, peeking behind Livio. Wolfwood quickly averted his eyes. “—is this your… friend?”

“My brother,” Livio said, voice wobbly as he held back another laugh. “Nicho—”

“Wolfwood!” he yelped, cursing his voice as it cracked. Valiantly, he stuck out a hand and held eye contact for three seconds. Success! “Call me Wolfwood.”

If Vash looked lovely as is, his smile made him look downright angelic. If Wolfwood listened hard enough, he could almost hear church bells ringing. Or maybe he was finally losing it due to his blood being twenty-five percent nicotine. It could be either, really.

“Nice to meet you, Wolfwood,” he said sweetly, “I’m always happy to see some new faces at the party. I’d love to get to know you two!”

If Wolfwood pretended he didn’t see Vash’s gaze lingering a second too long on his face, it was nobody’s business but his own. Instead, he nodded mutely, stubbing out his cigarette as Vash turned back to Livio.

“If it’s not too personal, I’d like to know where you two are from?” Vash asked, tilting his head curiously. “Your accents are super cool. Er, sorry. That’s kind of a weird thing to say.”

“Not at all! Wolfwood’s from Kerala, and since I spend so much time around him, I kinda picked up some of his accent and his mother tongue, Malayalam,” Livio explained. “I’m just your regular ol’ southern boy, though.”

Vash gasped delightly, clasping his hands in front of him. It was a silly gesture, but it suited this guy more and more. “That’s awesome! I’ve always wanted to learn a second language properly, but I never really got past conversational French.”

Wolfwood frowned. “You’re French? I didn’t expect that.”

Livio kicked the back of his leg, and he bit back a curse. Yeah, great going, buddy. Really gonna bag the guy by calling his ethnicity weird.

Vash, for his part, just blinked at him, smiling confusedly. “Well, I mean— I don’t actually know if I’m French or not? Nai and I were adopted, and Rem never got around to telling us. But I did take a few years of French in high school!”

“Oh. Yeah, uh. Cool, cool.” Wait. Pause. Hold on. Many pieces clicked into place all at once, and Wolfwood hummed. “So that’s why you and Knives look so similar. I just thought he’d changed up his look.”

At that, Vash straight up laughed. To his face. And Wolfwood couldn’t even find it in himself to be annoyed because, yeah, he deserved that one. Anyone with eyes could tell that Knives and Vash were brothers; maybe it was about time he stopped wearing sunglasses inside, if these were the types of grievous mistakes he would make. Wolfwood grumbled, looking away as Vash all but doubled over, his laughter turning to breathless wheezing. Beside him, Livio was red in the face and shaking, holding back his own peals of laughter.

It was definitely in Vash’s favor that he had such a nice laugh. Livio didn’t get that privilege; Wolfwood kicked his ankle, and he yelped.

“What the fuck, Nico?!”

“I had a long shift,” Wolfwood snapped, though there was no real heat behind it. “I’m allowed to make mistakes.”

“You need to get your eyes checked.”

Finally, Vash regained his composure, chest heaving — and Christ , he had a nice chest — and remnants of laughter clinging to his words. “Sorry, sorry. I didn’t mean to l-laugh. It’s just the first time I’ve heard that one! Oh man.” He wiped his eyes, chuckling. “Where do you work, Wolfwood?”

It took him a moment to process that. The glasses had ridden up into Vash’s hair, and he was finally hit with the full force of sky blue staring at him. He had really, really pretty eyes. Maybe Wolfwood did need to get his vision checked; Knives never looked at him with so much genuine interest. Livio nudged him, smirking.

He shook his head, trying and failing to clear his thoughts. And here came the conversation killer. “The funeral home in downtown Jeneora.”

Usually, this was where women started moving away and men decided they had better things to do than talk to him. Vash, a total anomaly, just stared at him wide eyed and leaned forward. So genuinely interested. Wolfwood swallowed roughly.

“What’s it like?” he asked, whisper-quiet. “I sometimes deliver pastries and coffee there. I really respect the work you guys do. I don’t think I could work with death all day.”

Wolfwood hadn’t expected the conversation to lead to this. And Vash seemed perfectly honest too, like he really did respect the death industry and like he really didn’t mind delivering food arrangements for funerals and pastries for the staff after hard shifts. He sighed slightly, shrugging.

“Don’t know what to tell you, honestly. You get used to it, and it’s a necessary service.” He paused. “What’s your shop’s name?”

Vash perked up, the somber honesty replaced immediately with excitement. “Love and Coffee! I move around a bit, but you can usually find me pretty easily! You should come by sometime.”

Then, to Wolfwood’s horror, Vash winked, leaning in. “You can be my taste-tester.”

He tried to play it off coolly, laughing; it came out as more of a squawk. Livio facepalmed, muttering something that sounded like curses. Vash, for his part, looked mortified, immediately stepping back with an awkward smile and his hands up.

“Sorry, sorry! That was— oh god,” he stuttered, voice a bit too high, “I’m so—”

“Vash,” Livio sighed, clapping him on the shoulder. “It’s fine. He liked it. It’s just that he’s… horrible at talking to new people.”

“ Livio! ” Wolfwood hissed, shoving him hard. He threw in a kick for good measure. “ Mindathirikkuka!” [2]

“I’m right, you sad bastard! Now say sorry to Vash and exchange numbers.”

Curse his brother. Really and truly, curse his brother and all of his ‘advice.’ Wolfwood scowled, but turned back to Vash, who was looking at him all wide-eyed and concerned. And oddly guilty. That didn’t sit right with him.

“Sorry, blondie,” Wolfwood sighed. “Like I said: long shift. No harm, no foul, right?”

Vash’s smile looked even more like a grimace, and Wolfwood found himself really loathing that act. If he was upset, he should’ve just shown it. “Yeah! We’re good, right?”

He nodded. “We’re good.”

“I can’t believe this,” Livio muttered, stalking towards the makeshift bar. “You two are horrible at this.”

Oops. On the plus side–which was really a negative, but Wolfwood refused to admit it–, Vash bid him a quick goodbye and skipped over to where a short, dark-haired woman sat, sipping a margarita. This party was going to be a pain if he had to keep looking at Vash. Unfortunately, this was his brother’s party; Vash was sticking around, and so was Wolfwood. Just his luck, really.

“Liv, get me a whiskey too! Neat!” he called. Alcohol made everything better, didn’t it?

•••

Vash was most surprised by the complete overhaul Nai made to his administration team. While he wasn’t particularly fond of that last batch — they were just a bunch of old men and one diversity hire, unfortunately —, he was equally wary of this new bunch. They were eccentric, and Vash wasn’t sure it was in the good way.

Of course, there were exceptions: Livio was a total sweetheart, and Vash could understand why he was heading PR. He was charming and sociable, and very much the opposite of his brother. Wolfwood was a little odd, but he was cute if Vash just looked past the prickly exterior. It wasn’t hard, either; his eyes were just too expressive to lie about what kind of person he was.

Then came Zazie, one of the four people Vash could tolerate without much issue. They were also on the PR team, which was a little scary considering their affinity for all sorts of creepy crawlies, but who was Vash to judge? He liked carnivorous plants, which was just as creepy! Zazie’s flippancy and casualness was definitely a welcome break from the stuffiness of corporate meetups, though.

Midvalley was the last of the tolerable ones, and it was only because Vash was convinced that a saxophone-and-piano duet would sound incredible. He just had to get Nai and Midvalley drunk enough to play, which shouldn’t be too hard. Not to brag, but he could make a pretty mean cocktail. As such, he was zooming around the bar, Meryl hot on his heels.

“Why are you doing this?!” she whined, tugging on the back of his blazer. “You’re literally not even at work, Vash!”

He threw a grin over his shoulder, making a mental note to cut her off in a few drinks. She already had an alcohol flush. “It’s the easiest way to meet Nai’s new team!”

“Ugh! They aren’t even tipping you!”

One of them, an Asian man with long hair pulled back in a ponytail, raised a brow. “We can tip him if he wants. Did Mr. Saverem hire his own brother?”

“Nai did not hire me, no,” Vash laughed, placing a rum and Coke in front of him. “You don’t have to tip me. I just want to get to know my brother’s new team!”

Meryl huffed, grumbling how his ‘need to please customers’ was getting in the way of enjoying the party. However, truth be told, this was the most fun he’d had at a Fourth of July party in a few years. He loved his brother, truly, but aside from decorating before the party, spending time with him here was simply… boring. It was all business talk, or it was arguing, or it was a rare duet. The latter was his favorite thing to do, but year after year, it got repetitive. So forgive him for wanting to take advantage of the new faces around.

Not to mention, Wolfwood lingered around the makeshift bar, so it wasn’t like Vash hated having something to look at, either.

“Well, in that case—” the man stood up, holding out a hand as he picked up his glass. “I’m Rai-Dei. Here’s to you putting in extra hours.”

Vash laughed, grabbing his own glass of whiskey–on the rocks, of course, because it was summer–and taking a long sip as Rai-Dei drank his own.

“Stop by at my restaurant in December. I’m sure I can cut a deal for Knives’s brother,” Rai-Dei said, grinning as he walked away.

Vash shook his head, chuckling. Sometimes it was nice getting free stuff because of Nai’s connections, but advertising did get annoying quickly. Someone new sauntered up to the bar, breaking him out of his train of thoughts.

“You must be Knives’s baby brother,” a woman said, leaning against the counter, tapping scarily long nails on it. She looked remarkably similar to Vash and his siblings, all blond hair and piercing blue eyes. She looked more like Knives’s sibling than he did, actually. “I’ll take a pisco sour if you can, white wine if you can’t.”

“I’m afraid I can’t do a pisco sour, but a glass of white wine coming right up.” He ducked under the bar, coming up with a wine glass and a beautifully chilled bottle of wine. “Nice to meet you, Miss…”

“Elendira,” she supplied, smiling sharply, showing off sharp canines. He noticed that the red of her freakishly long nails perfectly matched her red lipstick. “Likewise, little Saverem.”

Vash huffed. “Nai and I are twins, Ms. Elendira. He just likes to pretend he’s way older because we’re five minutes apart.”

She smirked. “You two play the parts perfectly. Enjoy the party, Vash.”

“You too.” He handed her the glass carefully, turning to the next person. “Hi! What can I get you?”

Oh dear. He’d seen this guy hanging around Nai the entire time like a shadow. He didn’t say much, only really speaking when Nai spoke to him. Despite that, he managed to leach acidic vibes into the air around him and walk around with a suffocating air of pretentiousness. Vash bit back a sigh, smiling tightly at him.

“Legato! What can I get you?”

Legato just stared at him, wrinkling his nose slightly in disgust. “I do not need anything from you. Mr. Knives just sent me to tell you to ‘stop working and enjoy the party.’”

Vash gasped, placing a hand over his heart. “Already? I haven’t met everyone yet! Oh, tell Nai that I’ll stop in a bit.”

He could almost see the aneurysm in progress. Legato’s eye twitched. “I insist, Vash. He wishes to spend time with you. Have you no regard for the time you get with Mr. Knives?”

“Legato,” he sighed, crossing his arms and propping a hip against the counter. “Nai overhauled almost his entire administration team and didn’t tell me about it, after subjecting me to four years with his previous team. I need to know who my brother is working with. Wasn’t there that other hire, EG…? You’d want me to vet them, wouldn’t you? It’s for him!”

Legato immediately narrowed his eyes, curling his lip in disgust. “He is away on a very long vacation. Besides, why should we trust your judgement? You’re a puny child next to him.”

How could Nai keep this guy around? Vash sighed. “Fine, tell Nai that I’ll be in the living room in… ten minutes.”

“Five.”

“Seven?”

Legato regarded him coldly, then nodded. “We’ll be keeping time, of course.”

Of course. He shot him a thumbs up before cupping his hands around his mouth, yelling: “Sorry, folks! Vash’s Bar is closed now!”

A few displeased murmurs sounded out, but they were immediately buried by Meryl’s cheering and Roberto’s approving grumbling. Before he stepped out from behind the bar, though, Livio ran up to it, Wolfwood in tow. Vash blinked.

“Are you okay?”

“Y-Yeah, great,” Livio said, clearing his throat as he caught his breath. “We hate to bother you, but can we get two more beers? Same as last time?”

“Oh, sure!” He handed them the last two bottles of whatever artisanal microbrew Nai had gotten, shooting them a smile. “Are you two having fun?”

“Tons!” Livio exclaimed, nudging his brother and waggling his eyebrows. “Right, Nick?”

Wolfwood gave him a downright chilling glare, holding the neck of his bottle with an iron grip. “So much fun. I’ll have even more fun when I beat your ass later tonight.”

Vash was about to suggest that he not resort to violence when Meryl finally decided that she wanted to talk to him again. She jogged over — well, it was more like she stumbled over, but Vash wouldn’t remind her of her drunken blunders —, abruptly stopping as she saw Wolfwood and Livio chatting with him.

“Who are you?” she blurted out, narrowing her eyes at Wolfwood. After Vash cut her off, the alcohol flush hadn’t risen any higher; still, she was shockingly lightweight. “You look like a hooligan, mister. What do you want with Vash?”

Wolfwood just raised a brow, seemingly back in his element. Confidence was a good look on him. Vash glanced away as he spoke. “How much did you drink, li’l miss? Couldn’t’ve been more than a few sips.”

“Hey!” Meryl yelped, jabbing a finger into Wolfwood’s chest. It was comical, really: she barely came up to his shoulder. He would have to make sure to ask about her height. “It was more like a few gulps!”

Vash laughed, tugging Meryl away from Wolfwood. “Not quite, Meryl. It was actually more like a few drinks.”

Wolfwood scoffed. “How strong were they?”

“...Touché,” he muttered. “What did you need, Meryl?”

She wheeled on him, righteous drunken fire blazing in her eyes. “What, I can’t just talk to my boss-friend? What if I decided you needed saving from the undertaker here?”

“Wh— undertaker ?” Wolfwood sputtered. “Just because I work in the death industry doesn’t mean that I’m an undertaker , missy.”

She sniffed. “You are. We looked you up, Nicholas D. Wolfwood.”

Okay. That was weird. Vash grimaced, stepping slightly in front of Meryl as Wolfwood’s glare turned cutting. He glanced helplessly at Livio, who looked as troubled as he felt. If a fight broke out, that would ruin the one good party he’d been to in years.

“Now why the hell would you do that, shortie?” Wolfwood said flatly, anger simmering just below the surface. “You a stalker or something?”

“Just a concerned friend who noticed you’ve been making eyes at my friend the entire night,” she sniped back, crossing her arms. “You’re not exactly the most trustworthy-looking guy.”

Wolfwood scoffed. “Like I don’t fucking know that. Keep your nose outta other people’s business, missy. It’ll do you well.”

“Sticking my nose in other people’s business is my job, actually—”

“Okay!” Vash exclaimed, clapping his hands loudly and glancing between the two of them with a nervous smile. “Let’s not fight, okay? Meryl, that was kinda creepy.” He leaned down, whispering. “And remember what I said about talking about your job?”

“Ooh, yeah,” she hummed, nodding. “I remember. Whoopsies!”

“I sure hope that’s an apology for looking me up like a goddamn creep,” Wolfwood grumbled, taking a swig of his beer.

“Well, I’m not apologizing for looking out for my friend,” Meryl argued. “But I’ll ask before googling you next time, okay?”

“Listen, shortie—”

“Guys,” Livio sighed. “Vash has to go, remember? Let’s all just play nice. Actually— Meryl, I have something to tell you.”

And oh boy, Vash did not like the devious smile that was on his face. By the looks of it, Wolfwood didn’t either. They exchanged wary glances as Livio whispered something, Meryl lighting up like a Christmas tree at whatever it was.

“This isn’t going to end well,” Vash murmured.

Wolfwood grunted, nodding. “We’re fucking doomed.”

“Vash,” Meryl sang after a moment, blinking at him with a too-sweet smile. “Livio wants to put his number into your phone. Can I try?”

He frowned, but shrugged, fishing out his flip phone. The silence that followed was deafening, but that was the average reaction to his technology of choice. Meryl grimaced, running a finger over the keypad.

“Mr. Roberto! Can you help us type on Vash’s phone?” she asked, yelling over her shoulder. Roberto rolled his eyes, getting up.

“It’s really not—”

He was cut off by his brother stumbling into the room, cheeks flushed and hair mussed up. “Vash!” he called, dragging out his name. “I wanna duet! C’mon! Organ room, now!”

“What? Now?” Vash looked frantically between Meryl still holding his phone and Nai, leaning sloppily against the wall with a very concerned Legato hovering over his shoulder. “Just give me two minutes!”

“One minute. Two minutes. Now, come on! We haven’t played in so long!” Nai whined. It was surreal. “Please, Vashu? Please, please, please?”

“Oh my god,” Vash whispered, pinching his flesh arm and flinching at the sting. “This can’t be happening. Nai, how much did you drink?”

“Doesn’t matter, Vashu! Organ room!” With that, Nai turned on his heels and stalked out of the room, muttering all the while.

“Fine, organ room! You definitely drank too much, Nai.” He sighed, turning back to the other apologetically. “Sorry about this. At least we play a good duet even when we’re drunk?”

Wolfwood just started him, wide-eyed and… impressed? “You play the organ?”

Vash grinned. “Among other things. Why don’t you come find out?”

“Yes! Go, go! Record it for us,” Meryl said distractedly as Livio steered them towards the door. “Bye-bye! Knives sounds like he’s about to fall down the stairs.”

“Oh shoot, he probably is,” Vash groaned, bolting out of the room, biting back a smile at Wolfwood’s protests, only for a second pair of footsteps to follow him.

It occurred to him too late that Meryl and Livio still had his phone.

Chapter Text

Vash half helped, half shoved Nai onto the organ bench, grumbling all the while. Both of the twins were hysterical when they were drunk, but, more often than not, Nai ended up dragging Vash into drunken shenanigans. Nai said it was because, despite being drunk, he was still the more responsible one; Vash said it was because he was a lightweight and so uptight that his ‘drunken shenanigans’ consisted of playing duets on their organ or piano.

“Okay, okay, what are we…” he trailed off, staring at the very empty music stand. “Nai. There’s no music here.”

Nai hiccuped, blinking. “Uh oh. Can we, uh… improvise?”

“I am not improvising with you until I get a few more drinks in me,” he muttered with a grimace, starting to get up. “I’ll go get the binder.”

In a show of drunken strength, Nai immediately pulled him back down, wrapping himself around Vash like a koala. Vash frowned. How was Nai this drunk already?

“Legato,” Nai called, dragging out his name. “Go get our organ music binder from the attic! Now!”

Legato perked up, eyes lighting up as he nodded. “Of course. Anything else, Mr. Knives?”

Nai hummed, looking thoughtfully at Vash. “Anything else, Vashu?”

“Well…” Vash glanced at Midvalley, who was staring pointedly at his shoes. He grinned. “Midvalley! Why don’t you improvise over our playing?”

“Oh, well—”

“Midvalley,” Nai said sharply, “if you do what my brother asks, I’ll donate a thousand double dollars to your failing band.”

It was a hard bargain. Midvalley pulled a sour face, but nodded, setting his saxophone case against the windowsill and popping it open. Wolfwood whistled lowly, watching Midvalley shuffle about. Vash turned to him–or, well, turned as much as he could with his koala of a brother–, tilting his head.

“Y’all can just throw around money like that, huh?”

He chuckled slightly, glancing away. “Well, I mean… Nai can. He’s the CEO of a multi-billion double dollar corporation.”

Wolfwood raised a brow. “Don’t act like you can’t either. He’d give you half his assets if you asked.”

“And Vash has his inheritance that he barely uses,” Nai chimed in. Vash punched him lightly.

“I just don’t want to touch it until someone needs it!”

“You and your shop need it,” Nai pointed out. “All those free things you keep giving out. It’s a terrible business strategy.”

“Anyway,” Vash said loudly, adamantly speaking over his brother. “Legato’s taking an awfully long time. We might need to send someone else to help him out.”

“Why don’t you send the little miss?” Wolfwood suggested, grinning slightly. “Since she likes sticking her nose into people’s business so much.”

Vash almost didn’t want Meryl in their attic. It wasn’t that they had anything to hide, really, but he didn’t like showing off as much as Nai. The attic housed all of their trophies, awards, and medals, and he knew Meryl would never stop mentioning it once she found out. He could already hear the barrage of questions.

But Vash also really wanted to get his brother off of him. He sighed right as the door burst open. Speak of the devil.

“Meryl! Would you mind going up to the attic to help Legato search for our binder? It’s labeled as ‘organ sheet music’ and it’s this really ugly green and red combination Nai picked when we—”

Nai headbutted him.

“...Never mind. But, uh, would you mind?” Vash asked, batting his lashes. Meryl raised a brow.

“Okay? But, um, which one’s Legato?”

“The blue haired freak,” Wolfwood offered at the same time that Zazie said, “Knives’s boytoy.”

Well, that was news. Vash would have to interrogate Nai when he was hungover tomorrow. He was sure to talk about his love life this time!

“He is not my boytoy!” Nai snapped. Drat, he was still denying it. He pointed at a small set of stairs set off in a corner. “Just go, Marilyn.”

Meryl shot him a truly venomous glare. “It’s Meryl Stryfe , ass—”

“Meryl!” Vash laughed nervously. “Please?”

She huffed, glaring slightly less venomously at him before turning on her heels and stalking off in the general direction he had pointed. Vash slumped against his brother. At least he’d get to do an interrogation too.

•••

The attic was easy enough to find and, blessedly, well lit. It only took three flights of stairs, two right turns, four wrong turns, and one near miss with walking into a bedroom to find it. She knocked, then walked in when she received an annoyed sigh in response.

“Did you find the binder yet?” she asked, scanning the room. It was really clean for an attic; she couldn’t even see a thin layer of dust. Boxes labelled with a mix of looping cursive and clean print lined the walls, stacked carefully atop each other. Some boxes had dates, while others had names and silly references. It added a layer of humanity to Knives, at the least.

“No,” Legato snapped, glaring at her from behind his fringe of blue hair. “Will you help me search or will you just stand and stare?”

Meryl suddenly and intimately understood Vash’s understated hatred for him. She plastered on her best ‘shut up and work’ smile, walking over to start sifting through the boxes in the back. “Sure!”

Legato just scoffed, and she rolled her eyes, carefully pulling the lid off of one of the boxes. Staring back at her, blinding in the cool white lighting, was a pile of medals. Gold, silver, bronze— it was all in there. There were even a few small trophies and certificates in sheet protectors, each organized carefully. She glanced at the side of the box.

Vash, freshman year, high school.

The handwriting was a graceful mix of Vash’s flowy cursive, and what Meryl assumed to be Knives's print. How the writer made the two styles work was a mystery, but no more of a mystery than the fact that Vash was insanely good at…

“Track?” she said out loud. “And tennis? What the hell?”

“What?”

“Track and tennis,” she repeated, staring at the box. “Did you know Vash did those in high school?”

Legato scoffed. “Why would I know, and why would I care?”

“Because he’s got about five million trophies and medals in here!” She glanced at the box beside it.

Nai, freshman year, high school .

She really should not have been snooping in her boss-turned-friend’s brother’s attic, but reason and social norms had never stopped Meryl. And really, this was crucial information; one’s high school activities should never remain a secret, if only to laugh at.

“This one’s Nai’s,” she offered. Legato paused, then slowly walked over, tracing the lid’s edge reverently. 

“I should not look,” he muttered. Meryl raised a brow.

“Get on with it. We’re both curious.”

He glared at her–was that all he did with people?–, but slowly removed the lid. This box, too, was filled to the brim with medals, trophies, and certificates for tennis and track. The only difference was that these ones had Knives’s name on them, instead of Vash’s. Her jaw fell open.

“These two—?”

Even Legato looked thoroughly impressed, glancing admiringly between the two boxes. “As freshmen,” he murmured.

“My god,” she said, shaking her head as she clicked the lid back onto Vash’s box, Legato following suit. “I need to see them in a tennis match.”

 If Legato’s cheeks reddened at that, neither of them needed to acknowledge it. Meryl looked towards the back of the room, scanning the labels until she landed on the first music related one. 

Twins, five y/o, duet concerts

“They were doing duets at five? ” Meryl asked, shaking her head. “Vash needs to show off more.”

“ Vash needs to show off more?” Legato repeated, brow raised. “Mr. Knives does, as well. One of these boxes must have the binder, though.”

“Right, right.” Meryl decided to be the bigger person and ignore the dig at Vash. “They said it was red and green and should be labelled for the organ specifically.”

Legato hummed, sifting through unlabelled boxes. She turned to the next set of boxes, each of them labelled with ‘twins,’ an age, and ‘solos’ or ‘duets.’ The boxes led all the way up to their junior year of high school. After that, damningly, the handwriting on the boxes shifted from the mixed script to just Knives’s or just Vash’s handwriting. Meryl didn’t want to assume the worst, she really didn’t, but with how Vash was only possessive of his flowers in the coffee shop… it didn’t take a genius to figure out that something had happened.

“At the front of the room,” Legato suddenly said, voice stilted, “there are boxes with each of their college and professional achievements, as well as more music-related achievements. The latter can be dated up to this year, in fact.”

Meryl raised her brows. “They still perform?”

“Apparently.”

She paused in her search for the atrocious binder. “We need to find out when their next performance is and show up.”

“That might be the only valuable contribution you have made here,” Legato said. “I suppose you will do that, then?”

She scowled. “I won’t tell you if I do, blue boy.”

Legato clicked his tongue, muttering something about ‘rudeness’ and ‘not knowing how to talk to superiors.’ Meryl suppressed an eye roll; this pretentious bastard was not worth popping a blood vessel over, she reminded herself. She wanted to hear Vash play, first and foremost, and then she had to convince Knives to invest in a new damn phone for his brother. Legato was at the bottom of her priority list, thankfully.

In the box for the twins’ duets at age thirteen, she finally found the binder. It really was hideous, but it was clearly well loved. Both of them had put their names right next to each other, their last name written underneath. She brushed a hand over it, a thin layer of dust coating her fingertips.

“Let’s go. I found it.” She got up, closing the box. “I need to interrogate Vash about this.”

Legato held out a hand, brow raised. “You talk to him. I will get them set up.”

“What? No way! I found it, so I’m giving it to them!”

“Don’t be childish!” Legato snapped. “What do you even know about music?”

Meryl actually had a fantastic reason for being “childish,” but seeing Legato get mad was quickly making its way to being her primary reason.

“Enough to know, since they’ve been playing in concerts since age five, that they can get themselves set up.” With that, she sprinted past Legato, slamming the attic door shut on his indignant sputtering.

•••

Frankly, Knives’s house was just too damn big. Vash had asked Wolfwood to fetch a bottle of whiskey and a couple of glasses, blinking those big blue eyes up at him. How could he say no, especially when Knives’s glare told him just what would happen if he tried? And so, here he was, navigating this too big house and this too fancy minibar. How the hell had Vash kept up with this?

Finally, he came up with a rich amber bottle and three glasses — who could blame him for wanting to steal some of his boss’s expensive ass liquor, anyway? Even from the kitchen, Vash and Knives’s bickering rang out, filling the house with drunken giggles and incoherent rambling. He couldn’t help it as his lips quirked up in a smile. The last time he’d had the pleasure of listening to a cacophony like this was his last visit to the orphanage, minus the alcohol. He slunk back into the organ room — how pretentious was that ? —, smirking at Midvalley as he threw him a helpless glare, fiddling with the mouthpiece of his saxophone.

“Special delivery for Vash Saverem,” he announced, presenting the bottle of whiskey and the two glasses to him with a flourish. He was graced by those infectious giggles. “And his drunk twin brother, I guess.”

“I’m no more drunk than Vash!” Knives huffed, very much ignoring the flush high on his cheeks. “Is that the brand he likes?”

Wolfwood frowned, glancing at the label. Bride . “How the hell would I know? You’re the supplier!”

Knives had the audacity to scoff, leaning around Vash to squint at the bottle, muttering something about the incompetent staff I hire . Vash, at least, looked horrified, punching his brother and earning an undignified squawk for his efforts.

“What?! I got more of that brand you like than anything else! I thought it would be obvious,” Knives snapped, rubbing his bicep where Vash hit him. “Was it?”

“Considering Wolfwood did get Bride, I’d say it was,” Vash sighed, then turned his apologetic smile towards Wolfwood. Daivame, ante paavappetta hrdayathodu karunayundakaname [1] . “Sorry about that. Any brand would’ve been fine, I swear!”

He snorted, twisting off the cap of the bottle. “It would’ve been fine for you, Blondie. I think your brother over there would have an aneurysm.”

“He doesn’t like whiskey.” Vash graciously accepted the glass, waiting for Wolfwood to fill his own up before clinking them together, the sound gentle and almost melodic. If he could make whiskey glasses sound that nice, Wolfwood couldn’t wait to see what magic he was going to work with his fingers. “Cheers!”

He just grinned lopsidedly, taking a long sip of the liquor. It burned in the best way, drawing a line of fire straight down his throat. He sighed contentedly, raising a brow at Vash’s pleased smile.

“Good, isn’t it?” he asked.

“You know damn well what the answer is, Blondie.”

Vash’s smile turned crooked, an edge of something that set Wolfwood on fire in a different way. “Maybe I want to hear you say it.”

He felt like a fish out of water, mouth opening and closing with no sound coming out of it. He was going to ignore the squeak that snuck past his elaborate vocal defenses. Thankfully, Meryl burst back into the room at that moment, grinning maniacally and stepping out of the doorway. Legato promptly stumbled into the wall, face twisted in a snarl.

“Took you long enough,” Knives sneered at the same time that Vash said, “Thanks, you two!”

“This really is hideous,” Meryl commented, grinning at Vash as she handed him the binder. Wolfwood stared at it; it was a red and green Christmas themed monstrosity, evidently. “I hope your playing can make up for it.”

See, Wolfwood knew Vash and Knives were brothers. Twins, at that. But they were so different in everything but build that, more often than not, he forgot they grew up together. Now, looking at the matching grins they were wearing, oozing confidence, he wondered how anyone could forget.

“It will,” Knives said, suddenly acting perfectly put together despite how he was clearly swaying and hazy-eyed. “Vash, why don’t you get the music set up? I need to make sure the stops are in order.”

“Sure thing, Nai,” Vash hummed, propping the binder up. “What are we thinking?”

“Uh… what about the 639-year-long piece?”

Vash snorted, the corners of his eyes crinkling fondly. “Every time! It’s always ‘As Slow as Possible!’”

Knives grumbled something lowly, blatantly ignoring Vash’s giggling. Wolfwood glanced across the room at Livio, quirking an amused brow.

What a sight, huh?

Livio answered with a grin of his own. Oh yeah.

Still, it was nice knowing that Knives had some sort of life outside of work and that he was capable of emotions other than nonchalance, catatonic rage, and chronic workaholism. Not to mention Vash , who was a vision on his own: his hair was mussed from his tussling with his brother, the barest hint of pink on his cheeks now that he was a few drinks in, and his eyes, a stunning blue already, looked positively radiant in the cold lights of the room. Wolfwood swallowed, taking another long sip of his drink.

He was not drunk enough to be thinking like this.

The twins were still murmuring to each other, and Knives eventually waved a very reluctant Midvalley over. Livio walked over, brows raised in apprehension as he watched them whispering furtively.

“What do you think the musician conference is about?” he whispered. Wolfwood shrugged.

“I dunno, Liv, it’s probably about music.”

“Smartass,” his brother hissed, elbowing him. “I should disown you for your shit.”

“But you won’t,” he added, smirking. “Who cares what they’re talkin’ about? As long as they impress the shit outta the room, I don’t think they give a fuck either way.”

Livio groaned. “You ask one question!”

He snorted, turning back to watch the twins tussle over the music. Knives was shoving Vash away by the face; it really was a sight to behold.

“Are you not wearing your contacts, Nai?” Vash asked— well, yelled, but Wolfwood was sure he meant it as a question. Probably. “You blind bitch!”

“You’re so mean, Vashu,” Knives whined. “Treating your own brother like this. Oh, what would Rem and Tesla think?”

Vash scowled, pushing the sheet music closer to his brother. “Dick move. Start your section on three.”

“You’re counting me in a measure late, right?”

The rest of their discussion flew right over Wolfwood’s head, but Livio was nodding along, fascinated. They said something or another about ‘3 beats in a bar’ and ‘bass might be out of tune.’ Midvalley looked bored and horrified, though, which made all of his confusion worth it.

At last, Knives held up a hand, and his side of the room fell silent. His boss be damned, but the guy had a presence. Vash’s gaze roamed over the people on his side of the room — which was really just Wolfwood, Livio, Meryl, and a half-asleep Roberto —, and grinned. That’s all it took for them to fall silent, and Wolfwood marveled at the power in that. He could probably bat his lashes at them, and they’d bend over backwards to try and make him happy.

The twins settled on the bench, and Vash started counting the… bars? Notes? Frankly, Wolfwood had no idea; all he knew was that Vash was counting and sounding very professional. Midvalley glanced at the music, frowning. That boded spectacularly for Wolfwood. Vash reached the end of his counting, and a singular note blared out.

Midvalley’s face crumbled, and, ignoring the piercing wail of the organ, Wolfwood wished he was recording solely to rewatch his coworker’s misery.

“A flat and B sharp?” he asked Vash desperately, “You’re kidding, right? You won’t make my poor Sylvia play this , will you?”

Vash just grinned, waving his hand in time with Knives’s playing. Reluctantly, he started playing, and, wow, that just made it worse. Wolfwood glanced at Livio out of the corner of his eye, biting back a laugh at his pained smile. Next to him, the little lady was grimacing and the drunkle looked about ready to pass out.

And really, if he was being honest, Vash joining in with his part of the song did not help the sound whatsoever. In fact, it probably made it worse, but it did provide for a very nice view. The shirt Vash wore was just loose enough to conceal his body, but as he moved, reaching across his brother to hit the keys and press the pedals, it wrapped tight enough to show off his sculpted back and very nice arms. Wolfwood took a deep breath, choking on his next sip of whiskey as Livio elbowed him.

“You’re staring, Nico,” he whispered, wearing an insufferable smirk. Wolfwood scowled, shoving him away.

“Shut up. No one has to know.”

Livio raised a brow, but said no more. By now, the playing had turned into something resembling a song, even if it was grating and horrible. Maybe this was the misery A sharp and B flat inflicted on people; it’s not like Wolfwood was the musician here. He was just an appreciator of the arts— so long as he ignored his leering, of course.

“How long is this?” he whispered to Livio.

“Lemme check.” Livio held up a finger, typing on his phone. He made a face. “Twenty minutes or so.”

“Fuck.” He glanced at the trio. “Take a picture of Midvalley. That’s going in as a custom emoji in Slack.”

Livio snorted, zooming in on Midvalley’s face. The quality of the photo was grainy and his expression was truly terrifying; it was perfect. It was times like this that Wolfwood decided he didn’t hate his corporate job, though that decision never lasted more than the occasional party.

•••

Legato watched as Midvalley left the performance in the middle of a sustained note, throwing his hands in the air as he tucked his saxophone back into the case. He stalked off, yelling about how he hated the key they were playing in, or something equally insignificant. Legato didn’t particularly care as Knives started laughing, throwing his head back, lovely redness on his cheeks.

A few minutes later, his brother decided that he, too, had had enough of their… performance. He finished his section with a flourish, ruffling Knives’s hair as he slipped out of the bench. Legato raised a brow as Knives frowned deeply, staring at his brother as he rejoined those new hires, Wolfwood and Livio. Was it company he wanted? Legato could provide company. He cleared his throat slightly, stepping closer to the organ.

Knives looked up, frowning. “Yes?”

Legato cleared his throat again. God, what was he supposed to say? “Um. That song was… really nice. What is it called?”

Knives blinked slowly, gesturing to the clearly visible sheet music.

Legato nodded, internally kicking himself. “Right, yes… ‘As Slow As Possible?’”

“Yes.” 

“Um. Where did you find it?”

Knives eyes lit up, as much as they could while he was this drunk. “Oh, it’s a German organ piece. It’s supposed to last 639 years, but Vashu never wants to play for that long.” Knives sighed. “Instead we do duets with Midvalley.”

“I thought it sounded good,” Legato offered.

“Of course you did,” Knives scoffed. “We always play it well. Even with that saxophone .”

Legato nodded along. “Well, I could barely hear the saxophone. I don’t think anyone really could.” Now that was certainly a lie, but no one needed to tell Knives that.

“Oh, really? Maybe next time we should pull out a few more stops. Then we might be able to drown him out completely.” 

Legato laughed, startled. “Does that mean there will be a next time?”

“Of course.” Knives nodded. “Hmm, unless I steal Midvalley’s reeds. I doubt he would notice.”

Legato blinked. How much had Knives drank to think that Midvalley wouldn’t notice? Or that Midvalley would leave the saxophone alone long enough for this. “Right. Are you— wait, Mr. Knives!”

Knives had already wobbled his way to standing, muttering something about coat checks.

Legato scrambled over to him, offering Knives his arm as he nearly strode into a wall. “Sir, you’re not actually—”

“Stealing the saxophone. Cynthia, was it? And I’m perfectly capable of walking.” Knives shrugged Legato off, before promptly tripping on the stairs. He cleared his throat, straightening and leaning heavily on the railing.

“‘Capable’ yes, successful, no,” Legato muttered, following close behind, just in case.

“What was that?”

“Nothing. Just that you never set up a coat check for this party. If you’re really planning on stealing the saxophone, you can’t expect him to just leave it lying around.”

Knives sighed. “I suppose you’re right. He wouldn’t dance with the saxophone, surely. If I insisted that everyone dance, then he would have to leave it behind.”

Legato glanced at his watch, eyes widening. “I– It’s 2 AM. Is he even still here?”

“Of course. He wouldn’t leave without his gift.”

Legato sighed. “Fine. We’ll try it.”

•••

“Vashu, do you remember where I put the speakers?” Nai asked, stumbling up to where his brother had taken over the bar again, Legato trailing behind him.

“In the backyard. Why?”

“Well, we’ve barely done anything today, and you said you learned how to DJ.”

Vash’s eyes lit up. “And I get to play anything?”

“Anything you find on my computer, yes.”

Vash sighed. “Have you downloaded any music from the last century?”

“Does the new Mozart piece count?”

“What— no it doesn’t!”

“Then no.”

“Of course not.” Vash groaned. “Fine. Everyone! Bar’s closed!”

A chorus of drunken complaints rose up again.

“What?”

“Again?”

“You’ll find more alcohol on the dance floor.” Nai waved them away. “Go on, we’re moving the party outside.”

With that, Nai stumbled onto his porch. Vash just wished that their decorations would make it out alive, though he sincerely doubted it. He appreciated how lively Nai’s new board was, really! But with liveliness came the risk of absolute and utter destruction, and there was no doubt in his mind that something would be broken by the end of the night. So be it, he supposed. He had classical music to DJ.

“Where ya goin’, Blondie?” Wolfwood asked, appearing beside Vash. He looked oddly put together for having worked through half a bottle of whiskey by himself.

“To get Nai’s laptop!” he chirped, taking the stairs two at a time. “Whoever gets drunk enough first gets to decide the music for a mini rager. It was Nai this time.”

Wolfwood groaned. “‘Course it was your killjoy brother. Lemme guess, he’s gonna make us listen to orchestral and slow dance.”

“Well… I mean, yeah, kinda,” Vash laughed, barging into his brother’s room. Well-kept as always, though he didn’t doubt that the floor would be littered with discarded clothes by the end of the night. “But I’m the DJ, so I’ll make sure it’s fun.”

“You can fuckin’ DJ? ” Wolfwood asked, incredulous. “The hell? What can’t you do?”

He threw a wink over his shoulder, grinning. “Why don’t you come find out?”

Wolfwood sputtered, turning away. His desperation to keep up his nonchalant act was, oddly enough, very endearing. Vash chuckled, going back to digging around in Nai’s desk for his laptop. For being the CEO of a multi-billion double dollar, he was shockingly disorganized. Unbidden, Nai’s earlier offer came back to him, and he bit back a bitter scoff; how did he expect to run Love and Coffee better than Vash if he couldn’t even keep his desk organized?

“Wolfwood, can you go look through the window and make sure Midvalley and Hoppered haven’t accidentally started a brawl?” he called, tugging out a laptop bag.

“Sure thing, Spikes.” Wolfwood snorted at whatever look Vash gave him. He pointed at his bangs. “Spikes.”

Vash patted the front of his hair, then sighed. Yes, there were spikes.

“Backyard’s all clear. No one’s started any brawls yet.”

“Great! Let’s hope they don’t start one during the dance, either.” He just hoped that he didn’t jinx it. Knowing his luck, though…

“Okay! Let’s get downstairs and wow everyone with our fantastic dance skills!” he exclaimed, jumping up with the laptop. Wolfwood shook his head, closing the blinds to the window.

“Your fantastic DJ skills, you mean.”

Vash raised a brow, tilting his head. “I meant what I said.”

“Ah— uh.” Wolfwood cleared his throat, glancing away. “I’m not much of a dancer, unfortunately.”

“Oh? Well, why don’t I teach you?” he murmured, bumping Wolfwood’s shoulder. “It’ll just be the two of us, if you let me work my magic.”

Vash decided to knock off the comments while they were on the stairs after Wolfwood nearly fell down them. How was he supposed to get laid if the object of his affections fell down his brother’s stairs?

“Nai! I have your laptop!” he announced, bursting through the patio doors. “Where are my speakers?”

“Drinks table,” Nai yelled back, leaning heavily against Legato. How was he going to dance? “Vashuuuu, play Moonlight Sonata first!”

Vash cackled, throwing him a thumbs up. “Moonlight Rager!”

Nai gasped delightedly, nodding aggressively. “Moonlight Rager. Bluesummers, get some recordings on my phone. Tesla needs to see this.”

Vash blinked. “Wolfwood! Livio! Meryl! Roberto! Come here for a second?”

Frankly, he wasn’t sure how Meryl made it to his bench in one piece–they probably had Roberto and his fortified liver to thank for that–, but once she was sitting beside him in less imminent danger of falling, he turned to the other three.

“I want to send a photo to our older sister before Nai does,” he said solemnly, holding up Nai’s phone. His brother wouldn’t miss it for another twenty minutes. “Will you assist me in this quest?”

Livio nodded, taking the phone. “Of course, of course. Strike a pose— actually… Nico, Vashinte aduthu poyi erikku . ” [2] 

“ Ningal valare shalyappeduthunnu , ” [3] Wolfwood snapped, stalking over to sit by Vash’s feet. “Get it done with, bitch.”

Livio grinned devilishly, taking a few steps back as everyone else settled around Vash. Roberto stood imposingly behind him, a hand on his shoulder like an old time-y portrait. Vash had half a mind to make a joke about him being from the 1800’s, but he decided that losing his bookkeeper wasn’t worth the joke. Next to him, Meryl was half laying on him and half sitting on the bench, swaying dangerously and giggling. He held her steady, biting back his own laughter. He should ask Livio to take a video, too, just to embarrass her come morning. Finally, Wolfwood sat right by his feet, looking for all the world like an angsty teenager. Still, he was warm and he not-so-subtly moved until his side was pressed against Vash’s leg. It was horribly endearing, and he decided on the spot that he was going to cherish this photo forever.

“Everyone ready?” he asked, stage-whispering.

Meryl probably thought she was whispering; she was decidedly, not. “Sooo ready!”

He snorted, nodding to Livio. He grinned, spinning around to hold Nai’s phone in selfie mode. Roberto continued looking like he was getting his mugshot, but everyone else struck a pose. Vash held his hand up with his fingers crossed, and Meryl did her best approximation of a peace sign with three fingers. Wolfwood immediately flipped off the camera.

“Wolfwood,” Vash gritted out, keeping his smile plastered on his face, “this is going to my older sister. Put your finger down.”

“She’s an adult, Blondie. I’m sure she can handle it,” he scoffed, but switched out the middle finger for a cigarette. Somehow. Not that it was much better, but Vash decided to let this one go. You win some, you lose some.

“Whatever. Hey, Livio, would you mind taking a video too?” he asked, glancing meaningfully at Meryl, who was back to her precarious shenanigans.

Livio laughed, giving him a thumbs up. “You’re so mean to her, Vash.”

He decided to not point out that Livio went along with it without complaint. Instead, he waved to the camera, grinning. “Hi, Tes! We miss you and hope you’re having fun! Say ‘hi’ to my new friends, and tell Nai that I’m your favorite brother.”

“Oh, you’re just mean in general,” Livio observed, handing the phone back after letting Vash ramble to the camera for a few minutes. “I used to think Knives was bad, but you’re brutal . Did you really have to expose his quilting hobby like that?”

“Livio, when all your twin brother has been giving you for every single holiday for the past few years has been homemade quilts, you have to turn it into a positive somehow,” he said seriously. “Because let me tell you, his first few quilts were horrible. I love them dearly. But they were bad .”

“Wow, Needles, maybe we should tell your brother you think that,” Wolfwood mused, rubbing his chin thoughtfully. “Get you out of quilt hell and all that.”

He grimaced, shaking his leg and jostling Wolfwood slightly. “Please don’t. It’ll break his heart.”

Speak of a broken heart. “Vashu!” Nai called — no, whined —, plopping down onto the grass. “Where’s the music? You promised me!”

Vash sighed. “I promised you. Let me get that started, Nai.”

His brother cheered drunkenly, and he shook his head fondly. For as much of a hardass Nai could be, he knew what he wanted and how to get it. His tactics usually included intimidation for everyone that wasn’t Vash, and whining if it was. It usually worked, too.

To his surprise, Wolfwood got up and followed him to the drinks table turned DJ stand, slumping into the chair next to Vash’s. “Work your magic, DJ man. Don’t mind me.”

Perhaps he would curse his drunk self in the morning, but right now, Vash couldn’t give less of a damn. “There’s a lot more magic I could work if you did let me mind you.”

“Christ on a fucking cracker, Needle-Noggin,” Wolfwood groaned, burying his face in his hands. “Just play your damn music, otherwise your brother is gonna have an aneurysm.”

That was true, even if Vash really wasn’t looking forward to another Moonlight Rager with Wolfwood right there. Unfortunately, brotherly duties called. He connected Nai’s laptop to the speakers and opened up his downloaded files, humming as he tried to make a half decent arrangement that would keep Nai happy and ensure that everyone else didn’t fall asleep.

Wolfwood, for his part, watched with rapt attention, occasionally asking questions about the files he was importing or the effects he was adding. It was the first time in a long time that anyone had taken such an interest in something Vash was doing, and even if it was just because Wolfwood was drunk and flustered, he appreciated it. Plus, the occasional reports he gave on Meryl and Nai’s drunken shenanigans were entertaining. His favorite one was when Meryl tried to climb a wall.

“Alright, Nai!” he yelled, cupping his hands around his mouth. “Have fun, and if you fall asleep on me, I’m drawing a mustache on you!”

“Thanks, Vashu!” Nai cheered, bopping along happily to the music as Vash fiddled with the effects.

“I think tonight is the first time I’ve heard Knives say thank you or please,” Wolfwood said, leaning back precariously. “Or talk in any tone other than ‘bored’ and ‘stick up my ass.’”

Vash chuckled, shrugging. “Yeah, he’s bad about manners. Our mom used to say I absorbed all the niceties in the womb and Nai got all the sarcasm. Which was clearly a lie, by the way.”

Wolfwood raised a brow. “Uh huh. The only person I’ve ever seen you be mean to is your brother, and I don’t think anyone’s blaming you for that one.”

He huffed. “I can be plenty mean.”

“Sure, blondie.”

Chapter Text

Nai’s plan was going to be a spectacular success. Midvalley was sulking in the corner like the miserable bastard he was — or maybe he was asleep, but it was all the same — and everyone else was preoccupied by chatting or listening to Vash’s arrangement. He was proud of his baby brother, but he was more happy that he was able to, unknowingly, provide a suitable distraction for the Saxophone neé Reed Heist. Legato, for all of his incompetencies, went along with his plan with minimal complaints. In fact, he looked positively enthusiastic, his eyes bright despite the late hour. 

The plan was simple: Legato would quietly swipe the saxophone case and hide it — though he refused to hide it forever, despite Midvalley’s godawful playing during “As Slow as Possible,” due to ‘charges of theft’ — while Nai ensured that Midvalley stayed distracted. Or asleep. Preferably asleep. He frowned. Maybe he should just knock Midvalley out and pretend it was the alcohol.

He glanced at his lawn-turned-dancefloor. No one was watching him and Legato, thankfully. Less thankfully, Wolfwood was hovering around Vash and that tiny woman was stumbling around like a drunk toddler. He didn’t mind the woman as much, but… he narrowed his eyes. Why was Vash laughing at what Wolfwood said, and why did he look pleased? Were they dancing?

“Mr. Knives?” Legato asked, looking over his shoulder. “Is everything alright?”

“Yes,” he snapped. “Focus on your task.”

“Yes, sir.”

He was sure it was nothing. Wolfwood was a moron as it was, and though Vash’s tastes were atrocious, Nai was certain even his baby brother wouldn’t stoop that low. 

“We’re close enough, Bluesummers,” he whispered, nodding at the slumped over Midvalley. “On my mark.”

Legato nodded, creeping closer. Midvalley didn’t stir.

“Three…”

Legato reached towards the saxophone case. Nai narrowed his eyes.

“Two…”

Midvalley’s breath hitched slightly, and Legato paused, staring wide eyed. Nai waited a few moments, then let out a slow breath.

“Mark!”

Legato swiped the case from under Midvalley’s chair while Nai stabilized it. It really was a good thing Nai invested in good quality drinks. Getting people to pass out drunk was one of the few benefits of his and Vash’s expensive tastes in alcohol.

He nodded approvingly at Legato, who positively beamed from his place in the corner of the yard, clutching the saxophone case. Now he wouldn’t have to listen to Midvalley’s god awful playing for the rest of the night. He really wasn’t sure how his band, the Hornfreaks, were even successful.

“Hide it wherever you see fit,” Nai said, heading back to the main part of the lawn. “We’ll give it back when we send everyone off with their gifts.”

Legato nodded, slinking back to the house. As a last minute thought, Nai added, “And text me the location!”

“Of course, Mr. Knives.”

“Nai!” Vash called, waving at him with — was that Wolfwood’s arm around his waist? Nai’s eye twitched. “Can I switch the music to my stuff now? I’ll delete any file I download!”

Normally, Nai was weak to his baby brother’s demands. Unfortunately… “Midvalley is asleep,” he said mildly. “Do you really want to wake him up?”

Wolfwood narrowed his eyes, and Nai frowned. So he wasn’t quite as drunk as he made himself out to be. Neither was Vash, he was sure, but he still didn’t appreciate his baby brother being made a fool. Right as he was about to snap at Wolfwood, Vash spoke.

“Aw, shucks. I guess not,” he sighed, pouting. “Oh well. Next year, then.”

“I’ll make sure of it, Vashu,” Nai said, slumping into him and dislodging Wolfwood, who glared at him. “We’ll wrap this up in thirty minutes?”

“Aye-aye, captain,” he laughed, sloppily saluting.

Unfortunately, the second part of his problems chose that moment to stumble up to them and throw herself at Vash. “Vash! Knives!” she yelled, as if he wasn’t right next to her. “I need to talk to you!”

“Vash, tell your little friend to stop yelling,” he grumbled. “Then maybe I’ll consider talking to her.”

Vash sighed, shrugging him off. “Meryl, I don’t think you need to yell. We’ll listen to you either way.”

“Regardless of how tiny you are,” Wolfwood added, grinning mischievously. Meryl shot him a truly mighty glare. Even Nai was impressed.

“Shut up! Okay, Vash, I have one question for you: why is everything in your brother’s house so pointy?” She gasped, leaning forward conspiratorially. “Is his secret hobby bladesmithing?”

Vash chuckled, shaking his head. “Nah. He named himself after knives when we were three and decided to really lean into the whole… millions of knives aesthetic.” That earned him a cuff on the head from Nai. It was one thing to call him ‘Nai’ in front of other people, and another entirely to reveal the origins of his name. Truly, Nai had never known brotherly betrayal such as this. “Hey! Maybe you shouldn’t have called yourself ‘millions of knives’ if you didn’t want people knowing!”

“Oh, like your name is any better?” Nai spat, crossing his arms petulantly. “It sounds like ‘cow’!  Retournez à la ferme d’où vous venez. 1 ”

“ Quoi? Non! Oh, espèce de salaud 2 — ” Vash started, but Meryl’s sudden laughter cut him off. They glanced down at her. Nai frowned.

“Oh man, that’d make a great story,” she giggled. “‘Coffee hotshot spills the beans about his unique name.’  Haha, get it? Beans? Like coffee beans? That’s a seller for sure. Could use some work on the title though…”

It’s times like these that Nai truly felt concerned for Vash’s wellbeing and the sort of company he kept. Even Wolfwood wasn’t this bad: at least he had the decency to not laugh at his own jokes. This girl, however, was tittering away. Vash looked like he was holding back laughter, too, and Nai suddenly understood Cain. He was about to snap at the two of them, but Meryl suddenly sobered up, turning to him with stunning, if drunken, clarity.

“Anyway! Knives, let’s talk,” she said loudly, pushing off of Vash. She leaned towards him, stage-whispering. “It’s for Vash.”

It was as if she knew that was precisely what she had to say to get his attention. Pursing his lips, Nai nodded towards the porch. Vash glanced curiously between them, tilting his head.

“Do I get to know what’s for me?” he asked hopefully.

“No,” Nai said, pinching his cheek. “Now stop fraternizing with Wolfwood and enjoy the last few minutes, Vashu.”

“He can fraternize with whoever he wants,” Wolfwood grumbled, but dutifully scooted away from Vash, who frowned.

“I’ll dock your pay, Wolfwood,” Nai called over his shoulder, leading Meryl back to the porch. He very skillfully stepped over a bunch of discarded cans, ignoring Meryl’s snort. “What about Vash? Is something wrong?”

Meryl nodded somberly, reaching into her pocket. “Look at this travesty.” She held Vash’s flip phone by his absurdly big charm chain, glaring at it like it personally offended her. Frankly, Nai could understand her hatred for the thing. It barely worked half the time, and it took him three months to learn all of Vash’s absurd lingo.

“I’m aware,” he drawled. “He texts me more than he texts you.”

“We should get him a new phone and upgrade his system at the shop,” Meryl said, speaking over him. “He has more money to spare now, since Roberto fixed his horrible bookkeeping.”

Nai frowned. “Do you really think I would take money out of his account to pay for his phone?”

“You’re going to pay for it?”

“You’re paying for half of it,” he corrected, “and I will cover the system upgrade. Chances are higher that Vash will accept the phone if it comes from both of us. He hates being seen as a ‘charity case,’ even if he is helpless enough for it.”

Plus, if Nai helped improve the shop and showed Vash that he’d be able to run it better, maybe his brother would finally agree to selling it…

Something strange came over Meryl’s face and she opened her mouth to speak, but Roberto walked into the porch. He looked perfectly composed for someone who had been drinking the whole night, and Nai would almost be impressed if his presence didn’t constantly remind him of Vash’s poor taste in people.

“Newbie,” Roberto said gruffly, clearing his throat. “Best if we call it a night. You’re going to have a terrible hangover, and I don’t want to deal with you being whinier than you already are.”

“Roberto,” Meryl whined, proving his point immediately. “That’s so mean! I’m not whiny.”

“Sure, newbie. Say bye-bye to Hundreds Spoons and Puppy. We’re going back to the hotel.”

“Ugh!” Meryl all but stamped her foot, turning to look imperiously at Nai. “Good night. We’re buying him a phone!”

He pressed his lips together, nodding slightly. “Yes. Goodbye.”

Roberto glanced at him, eyes narrowed and startlingly sharp for being inebriated. Nai bristled, biting back a sneer of his own. Then the moment was over, and Roberto was leading Meryl out of the yard like an exhausted dad.

Honestly, he was ready to call it a night, too. He leaned against the porch railing, hands clasped in front of him. He was ready to yell out the clear-the-yard instructions, but Vash caught his eye, an edge to his smile. Nai narrowed his eyes. A challenge.

“Party’s over!” he and Vash yelled at the same time, then glared at each other.

“Get to the living room for the send off!” Vash shouted, cupping his hands around his mouth. Nai flinched. His brother could be incredibly loud when he wanted to be, and he was immensely grateful that Vash was usually so soft spoken.

“Clean up the yard first!” he announced, smirking as Vash’s eyes widened with the realization that he made his announcement out of order . “Then go to the living room!”

Vash shot him a thumbs down, frowning deeply as he stumbled over to the drinks table, Wolfwood right on his heels. Nai just grinned.

Sweet victory, Vashu.

Shut up , Vash responded, poking him mentally. Meanie.

One of us has to be, baby brother.

•••

Morning came far too quickly. Or perhaps it was already here, and Nai’s blackout curtains just gave up on doing their one and only duty. He groaned, burying his face into his pillow as his headache hit him full force. Vash was sprawled across the king sized bed, snoring obnoxiously. One of his legs was thrown over Nai’s, and his hand had found its way to his face.

He sighed. He loved his brother dearly, but his snoring was aggravating his headache. “Vash. Wake up.”

He did not wake up.

“Vash!” he repeated, louder this time. His throat hurt, and his voice was nearly gone. Still, Vash stirred, mumbling as he blinked awake.

“M’rnin’,” he yawned, smiling sleepily at Nai. How his brother could smile so soon after waking up with a hangover was beyond him. “How’re you feeling?”

“Atrocious,” he grumbled, rolling to face him. “Your snoring made my headache worse.”

Vash chuckled. “Whoopsies. You start booting up, Nai. I’m gonna go get breakfast ready. Is toast and jam okay?”

He hummed, shrugging. “Use the good butter.”

“Ooh, someone’s feeling fancy,” Vash teased, rolling off the bed with a soft ‘oof.’ “You’re splurging and actually using the good butter?”

Nai threw a pillow at him, glaring as he left the room in a fit of sunshine laughter. He should have asked Vash to close the blinds all the way. With a sigh, he flopped back onto the bed, content with stewing in his hangover until Vash called him down for breakfast— or perhaps it was brunch. Vash wasn’t an exceptional cook by any means, but having him stay after a party meant that Nai didn’t have to make anything. Plus, whatever his baby brother made was good if he counted the thought behind it. He was usually gracious enough to do so.

Unfortunately, his work phone pinged. Nai cursed, contemplating simply breaking it in half. Perhaps he should mandate leave after work parties for the administration team, if only to get them to leave him alone. He fumbled around for the phone, scowling at the contact.

[Zazie Adder (the Beast)]: call me when you’re awake i have an idea for you youre really gonna like it

When Zazie said that, it usually meant that they had gotten high and decided they could actually contribute something other than security to the team. It also meant that they’d all be subjected to a tirade of nonsense for five to twenty minutes.

[Millions Knives Saverem]: Text it to me. I cannot be bothered to hear your voice.

The three dots immediately showed up, and he had to wonder if Zazie was simply watching their phone for his response like a hawk. That meant their idea was going to be even more inane than usual.

[Zazie Adder (the Beast)]: k rude anyway remember yesterday how wolfwood and your brother kept talking well i was thinking that since youre trying to buy love and coffee you send wolfwood to convince your brother to sell it to you

[Zazie Adder (the Beast)]: they hit it off and fall in love and then bam vash sells you his coffee shop because wolfwood managed to convince him and its a happy ending for all

[Zazie Adder (the Beast)]: That Is Contingent On Wolfwood Actually Being Able To Hit On Him By The Way his complete fumbling and disastrous attempts will not charm vash into selling love and coffee however i do think that theyd be great together so you should send wolfwood anyway

Nai squinted at the messages, desperately wishing for his hangover to disappear. Zazie texted like a damn menace — it was like they were allergic to grammar and punctuation. He certainly was not sober enough to discern any of this, but he managed to make out “convince,” “Love and Coffee,” and “Wolfwood.”

[Millions Knives Saverem]: Absolutely not. Wolfwood will be kept far, far away from Vash. Think of some other way to convince my brother if you so wish.

[Zazie Adder (the Beast)]: no no consider it because vash has been single for so long and i know that you know that wolfwood is exactly his type itll work out great because hes so desperate probably

He frowned. Perhaps Zazie’s idea did have some merit, though…

[Millions Knives Saverem]: And what if they actually fall in love?

[Zazie Adder (the Beast)]: well i think you should stop being homophobic and be happy for them pay for their wedding and honeymoon or something youll get vashs profits anyway

It seemed that he would simply have to trust his brother to make better decisions than Wolfwood . He sighed.

[Millions Knives Saverem]: I will consider it. Tell Wolfwood to come to my office at 8 AM sharp on Monday.

[Zazie Adder (the Beast)]: kk trust me when i say this is a fantastic plan

Nai really doubted that, but his musings were interrupted when Vash’s voice rang out.

“Nai! Come on!”

“Coming, Vash,” he called, groaning as his head swam when he pushed himself up. “Do you have the Tylenol out?”

“Uh huh!”

He had never been so thankful to have a brother. Tylenol and brunch sounded like heaven, and he didn’t even have to prepare it for himself.

Chapter Text

Meryl used to think getting up for her 8 AM lectures was bad, and then she discovered that Vash liked getting up at five in the morning to start prep for the day. Usually, he was in the shop by six-thirty. This regiment of his proved to be a massive logistical issue for her and Roberto.

His eyes widened as she somberly told him about their plan for Monday. “You want me to get up at four in the morning for the kid?”

“Well…” she chuckled, glancing away. “We did kinda promise his brother that we’d give him the new phone and get his system set up.”

Roberto’s eye twitched. “You will never, ever be drinking with me around again, rookie.”

“Hey! I’m responsible!”

“You made a deal with the devil,” he said cryptically, spearing pasta on his fork. “You’re lucky the kid is himself , otherwise I’d just get you sent back to HQ.”

“Wha— Millions Knives is not the devil,” she muttered, rolling her eyes. “Whatever. Are we doing this or not?”

He gave a heavy sigh, taking a bite of his food. Meryl knew she won.

However, that was how she found herself sneaking into Love and Coffee through the office window that Vash always forgets to lock, Roberto on her heels. Knives had his men drop off Vash’s new phone and computers for the shop at the permanent PO box. Unfortunately, that was a twenty minute walk from the shop’s current location. Why Vash decided to set up shop on the town’s outskirts, she would never know; it was completely inaccessible, yet the shop always had the same morning and lunch rush.

Roberto grunted as he stumbled in behind her, cursing as he landed on his bad hip. “Alright, newbie. Get to it.”

She rolled her eyes. “If you’re gonna boss me around, at least call me by my name. You start unlocking the shop, I’ll go wheel everything in.”

“Uh huh. You’re gonna wheel everything in,” Roberto repeated, brow raised. “Sure thing, rookie.”

Meryl bit her tongue. It was four-thirty in the morning, and Roberto had a perpetual hangover. She supposed he earned some grumpiness. He fished out a spare set of keys from one of Vash’s horribly disorganized drawers—how either of them managed to navigate that travesty was beyond her—and headed to the front. Rolling her shoulder and already feeling the ache after putting all those dang boxes in the car, Meryl followed. This was the last time she was doing anything nice for this guy— even if he wasn’t the one to ask for… any of this, really.

It was hard to stay mad at Vash and his refusal to get himself anything nice, though, when she really had a moment to appreciate the shop again. During the day, she and Roberto were usually wrapped up in customers and keeping Vash from giving people the clothes on his back and, slightly less importantly, digging up evidence of him laundering his brother’s money. Secretly, she was beginning to hope that he was just horrible at finances; busting this poor guy for money laundering would just be cruel. It didn’t really help that he was basically a keystone in this community, and she would probably be run out of town for ruining his life.

She pushed those thoughts out her mind, focusing on the burning in her arms and the sweet, earthy smell that clung to her clothes pleasantly as she dragged the third box in through the back door. It was hard to be anxious when the entire atmosphere was perfect for taking a nap (and getting rid of the rest of her hangover).

“I think that’s the last of them!” she yelled, huffing slightly. “He didn’t even give us a trolley.”

“That’s Knives Saverem for you,” came Roberto’s reply, laced with wry amusement. He walked out of the office, presenting the phone screen to her. “Turns out, Knives already set his phone up but doesn’t want us to tell the kid that.”

Meryl tilted her head, frowning. “Weird.”

“Damn right. So you know what we’re gonna do, rookie?” Roberto tossed the phone to her, and she fumbled to catch it. “We’re gonna tell him.”

Meryl hummed, slightly surprised. “You want to risk pissing off Knives? You , sir?”

He grunted. “I’m a journalist first and foremost. Getting the truth out is our whole job, or did you already forget your lessons?”

“I remember them just fine, sir,” she huffed. “Let’s just get his system set up. We have a little over 90 minutes to do it.”

“The things we do for Vash,” Roberto sighed, rolling up his sleeves. She nodded.

•••

By some miracle, they managed to get everything set up and functional before Vash walked in. They’d gotten one of his horrible, illegible texts five minutes before the front door bell rung.

[Vash]: y r th lts n n th str? dd u ntc smth?

Meryl eventually managed to decipher what he meant—or her nearest approximation, at least—and sent back a simple no.

“Vash noticed the… lights? I think? On in the store front,” she told Roberto, grimacing slightly. “Whoops.”

Roberto shrugged, breaking up a bagel he dug out of the fridge. Apparently, even he couldn’t resist some of Vash’s expensive generosity. “So he noticed. Let him. It’s not like he’ll fire us.”

That was true. He was a bit too nice for that.

Just then, the front door bell chimed, followed by the ominous clunk of those god awful boots against the ground. She was still in awe that he managed to move around so smoothly and quietly — until he wanted to be loud, of course, which was always a cacophony — in those things. It was one of the perks of being as good at sports as he was, she supposed.

“Hello?” he called warily. “Is someone there? I really don’t want to fight.”

Meryl frowned. That was an odd first thing to say. She exchanged a glance with Roberto, who looked about as wary as she felt. She was beginning to think he really was part of a mafia front because whose first response was I don’t want to fight?

“In the back, kid,” Roberto said, rolling his chair forward.

Vash hummed. A few seconds later, a mop of golden hair popped into view. “You guys are here early. Is everything okay?”

Meryl nodded, waving him closer somberly. His mouth ticked down in a frown. “We have something for you.”

“Okay…?” He laughed nervously, rubbing the back of his neck. “You’re making me a little nervous, Meryl!”

Carefully, slowly, she presented him with the new phone. It was one of those fancy flip phone-and-normal phone combinations, and she knew that Vash would love it simply because it could still flip.

He blinked, glancing at her with wide eyes. “What is this?”

“A phone, buddy,” Roberto drawled. “You haven’t seen one before?”

“I have! But, uh, why are you giving this to me? ”

Maybe he was too dense to be running a mafia front. “Happy early birthday, Vash,” Meryl sighed, shoving the phone into his hands. “And a preemptive congratulations to Roberto and I for actually being able to read your texts.”

“Oh, uh, well— thank you, Meryl and Roberto.” He turned the phone over in his hands, his polite smile becoming a little more genuine at the fact that it was still, technically, a flip phone. Then he paused. “Wait, how do you know my birthday?”

Roberto closed his eyes, pinching the bridge of his nose. “I manage your financial documents, kid. I know where you live, too.”

It was like a lightbulb went off in Vash’s spikey head. Meryl facepalmed. “Oh shoot. I forgot.”

“Damn the Monday morning blues,” Roberto muttered, walking towards the back entrance. “Newbie, you can handle the rest of the surprise. I need a smoke.”

Vash blinked. “Oh no. Now what did you guys do?”

“Well, okay, this one was for our convenience as much as yours,” Meryl admitted, ushering him into Roberto’s office. “We kinda upgraded your entire system. Roberto kept complaining that he hadn’t used half the technology since he graduated college, like, twenty decades ago.”

“Oh come on, my setup wasn’t that bad!” He glanced at her, frowning. “Wait, twenty decades?”

She waved her hand flippantly, pushing him around the cramped desk and into the office chair. “Doesn’t matter. Take a look! Isn’t it so nice?”

He hummed, glancing at the separate monitors. One displayed all the security feeds, while the other two were for… whatever it was that Roberto was doing. Frankly, his style of working was just as sketchy as Vash’s. It was just that Meryl knew Roberto wasn’t doing anything illegal; Vash was still, unfortunately, an uncertainty.

He turned back to her with a bright smile, giving her a thumbs up. “You’re right, this was a good investment. How much did it throw the budget off, though?”

She raised a brow. “So you suddenly care about your budget when an investment makes your life easier? Strange.”

“No, I mean— I just need to know how much it was so that I can adjust your salaries! I don’t want to take it out of your paychecks, so I’ll cover it,” he explained.

“Good news about that: your brother paid for the whole system upgrade,” Meryl informed him, grinning. “So no one’s losing any money, and now Roberto will stop complaining, too.”

Something flickered in Vash’s eyes, tightening his smile; for a second, she could almost superimpose his brother’s icy demeanour over him. It was gone as quickly as it came, and Vash was back to his usual sunshine smile.

“I’ll make sure to thank him. Did, um, he do the set up…?”

“No, Roberto set up the shop’s system.” She paused, frowning slightly. “Though he did set up your phone.”

This time, Vash’s smile really did dim, and Meryl got a sinking feeling in her gut. If he was that off put by the mention of his brother, that could not be a good sign. She wracked her brain for any memories from the party. Alcohol blurred them, and she didn’t actually remember much after their duet, but… Knives seemed to really, truly care about Vash. Sure, he was a little overbearing, but he didn’t seem like he would hurt Vash.

“Vash, if you need help—”

“No, no, nothing like that!” he yelped, holding his hands up placatingly. The bottle green of his prosthetic painted the walls with splotches of green. “It’s just— he’s a bit overprotective.”

She wasn’t sure if that was better. “I’m serious, Vash. We can help you get out if you need it.”

He shook his head frantically. “It’s fine, Meryl! Really! It’s nothing bad, but, you know, sometimes I just need to… get away. Not because he’s hurting me or anything, but I’m just… ugh, how do I—”

“You’re your own person?” she suggested, thinking back to the photos she had seen hung up in Knives’s house and stored in his attic. Vash and him had always dressed similarly, had similar haircuts, and played the same sports. It wasn’t surprising that Vash was trying to pull away from the ‘Saverem twins’ moniker and make his own identity; it didn’t help that his brother was a crazy successful coffee tycoon, either.

“Yeah,” he said, voice a little wistful. “With our sister moving and Rem… I needed to get out and about, you know?”

She nodded understandingly, pursing her lips. “Well, you can ask Roberto or me if you need anything, okay? We can get you out.”

“Noted,” he chuckled. “Thanks, Mer.”

She grinned, and Vash matched her expression as she got up. There was one more thing she wanted to ask, now that he had given them a name, but, if she was right about what happened and who ‘Rem’ was, she doubted he would want to talk about it at a quarter to seven on a Monday morning.

Vash, ever perceptive, tilted his head curiously. She was beginning to understand why Roberto kept calling him a puppy. “What’s up? Did you need anything?”

She bit her lip, frowning. “Uh… I’m just curious, but who’s Rem?”

“Oh, well,” he stuttered, laughing nervously, his voice a pitch too high. “She was just someone who, um, meant a lot to Nai and I.”

“What—”

“Oh, hey, look at the time!” He all but leapt towards the door, pointing exaggeratedly at the clock above Meryl. “It’s almost opening time. Thanks for the phone and system, Meryl! Lunch is on me!”

“Hey—!” She called after him, but he was out in the blink of an eye, red coat fluttering. Meryl sighed. He was a riot, that was for sure.

•••

Wolfwood wasn’t sure whether he wanted to curse Knives out for giving him an insanely early job, or thank him for giving him an excuse to see Vash again. It wasn’t like he knew the guy all too well, but there was just something about him and his dumb hair and bright smile. Wolfwood definitely hadn’t gone home and screamed like a middle school girl into his pillow. He was a grown man.

However, for as totally-not-excited as he was to see Vash again, finding the guy’s shop was proving to be worthy of overtime itself. This was Wolfwood’s first time in Jeneora Rock proper — he’d visited the outskirts for supply runs for Hopeland, of course, but he never bothered going into the town. As such, he knew approximately none of the roads and none of the little diners and shops downtown. To make matters worse, neither Zazie nor Legato nor Knives were able to give him an actual address to the shop, and Love and Coffee didn’t even show up on his map app. 

All hope was not lost, however. There was one spot in Jeneora that he knew, but the woman who ran it was about the least likely person to give him directions. Still, he supposed it was worth a try. And a drink. Turning down one of the side roads, he made his way to Rosa’s.

It was a quaint little thing, by bar standards. It had a dozen or so barstools and another dozen tables, with a few booths crammed into the corner. The lighting was comfortably warm and the oak walls were decorated with pictures, maps, awards, and other trinkets from the townsfolk and passersby alike. Hell, even the food was good. It was one of the few places, much less bars, that made Wolfwood feel comfortable. The bell, hung over the door during the day, chimed as he pushed open the door, immediately sighing comfortably.

“Coming!” Someone yelled from the back. He hummed, though they probably couldn’t hear it. He thought he counted more maps than last time he visited. Maybe the tourist season was going to be good for Jeneora this year. He hoped it was; it always helped Hopeland, too.

“Isn’t it early for a drink even by your standards, Wolfwood?” Rosa drawled, looking thoroughly bored as she walked behind the bar. He smirked.

“Lovely seeing you as usual, ma’am.” He tipped an imaginary hat. “But no, no drinks for me today. You wouldn’t happen to know where Love and Coffee is today, would you?”

She narrowed her eyes, beckoning him closer. “I know you haven’t suddenly taken an interest in Jeneora’s shops, so why do you want to know?”

He shrugged. “A friend recommended it to me.”

It wasn’t technically a lie. He may not have been a friend, but Midvalley had recommended it a few weeks before the assignment. Wolfwood had just never gotten around to looking into it. Plus, Midvalley was… himself. Wolfwood couldn’t take him seriously — not that he tried to, of course.

“Uh huh. Which friend, exactly?”

“I don’t think you know him, ma’am.”

Rosa gave him a tight lipped smile, leaning forward slightly. “Try me.”

“Midvalley?” he prompted, not bothering to give a last name. No one was mistaking him for anyone else, that was for sure.

Rosa narrowed her eyes, nodding slowly. “I know him. He’s… fine.” With a sigh, she leaned back, picking up a rag and wiping down the bar. “So you’re really here to just go to Love and Coffee? No other reason?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

She stared at him, head tilted and eyes boring into him. Wolfwood squirmed uncomfortably; he had a good poker face, sure, but Rosa reminded him of Ms. Melanie, and that woman could see into his soul like no one else. At last, she sighed, closing her eyes and muttering something that sounded an awful lot like ‘Vash’ and ‘type,’ though that could have just been him hearing things. Most likely that.

“It’s the pink shop on the southwest edge of downtown. If I hear any complaints from any of them…” she trailed off, letting the threat hang.

He grinned, throwing her a messy half-salute. “Loud and clear, miss.”

As it turns out, the shop was just around the corner. Wolfwood slowed down as he neared it, taking in the exterior. For how much Vash apparently moved it around, it didn’t look hastily thrown together. The windows were a pretty cream color, flower planters lined the windowsills, and a homely welcome mat was in front of the door. Taking a deep breath, Wolfwood pushed open the door, the bell jingling cheerily.

And promptly passed out.

•••

When he came to, it was in a well-cushioned booth. The seat itself was a pretty maroon, and a soft white throw was placed over his shoulders. The shop smelled like coffee and sugar, and soft chatter floated over the piano music. Wolfwood blinked. When was the last time he had such a comfortable nap? Glancing in front of him, he saw a donut and a steaming latte—extra sugar and milk on the side! Wow, he was really being spoiled!—next to a note written in swirling cursive.

‘You passed out, so I (Vash!) brought you in. I hope you like the donut and coffee! Holler if you need anything :)

Love, Vash’

Wolfwood was a grown man with a paying job. He paid his bills and went to the gym and drank alcohol. He was not getting flustered at a silly note that his not-crush left him, and he certainly was not staring at Vash’s sign-off. That was easy to believe as long as he ignored the heat on his face, so he did. Tearing his eyes from the note, he glanced over to the bar. Vash was chatting animatedly with Meryl, his silly orange glasses glinting in the light. Watching him was so much more entertaining than it should have been, and both him and Meryl having to crane their necks to look at each other was even funnier. Then, Meryl caught his eye and pointed at him, saying something to Vash.

He whipped around, all wide eyes and smiles, and jogged over. “Hiya, Wolfwood! You passed out on my doorstep, and I guessed that it was an exhaustion or blood sugar thing, so I gave you a latte and a donut. Oh god, are you allergic to anything? Shoot, I should’ve—”

“Needles,” he interrupted amusedly, “it’s fine. Thanks.”

“Right.” He chuckled sheepishly, rubbing the back of his neck. He slid into the booth across from him, clasping his hands in front. Wolfwood glanced at his prosthetic; it was a pretty thing, all sleek angles and smooth curves. “How are you feeling? Is everything okay?”

Wolfwood shrugged, popping his shoulder. “Just didn’t sleep well last night, is all. Though, I gotta say, that was the best fucking nap I’ve ever taken. I should pass out on your doorstep more.”

Vash’s eyes widened. “Let’s not do that! I think Roberto would kill me if I had to cover medical expenses, too.”

“Who said you’d pay for my hospital bills, Needle Noggin?”

“If you pass out on my property, I think I’m liable.”

Wolfwood hummed, taking a sip of the latte. It was sweeter than how he normally took his coffee, but it was still damn good otherwise. No wonder Vash’s coffee shop was so popular.

“But that was the best pass-out-nap I’ve taken in my life.”

“We have a couch in the back if you need it,” Vash said, then paused. “Wait, you’ve taken pass-out-naps before? How often?”

Wolfwood shrugged, smirking at him over the rim of the cup. Vash sighed, shaking his head. “So, how much do I owe you for the coffee and shit?”

“Oh, nothing!”

“That’s not a great business strategy,” he said, frowning. “C’mon, you’re not gonna make me play the guessing game, are you?”

“I’m serious,” Vash laughed. “It’s just my shift drink, so it’s technically free.”

“Aw fuck, Blondie,” Wolfwood groaned. “You didn’t have to give me your shift drink. At least let me buy you something.”

The corners of Vash’s mouth quirked up, and it was a worryingly attractive look on him. “Are you asking me out, Wolfwood?”

He blue screened, managing to burn his tongue on the latte. Vash’s sleazy grin disappeared as he coughed, replaced by sincere concern. Wolfwood couldn’t care less about the burn right now, though; he just made a fool out of himself in front of Vash again . Not that he was trying to get in his boss’s brother’s pants, but he wouldn’t complain if it happened. Unfortunately, his prospects were not looking up.

“Fuck me,” he muttered, slightly out of breath as his coughing fit passed. “Fuckin’ hell.”

Vash raised a brow, pink dusting his cheeks. Was it hot in here? It had to be hot in here. “Let me take you out to dinner first.”

It was a small mercy that Wolfwood didn’t have anything in his mouth the second time.

Vash giggled, bell-like, and slid out of the booth, running a hand down his apron. “Well, I’ll leave you to it! Let me or Meryl know if you need anything, okay?”

“Yeah, sure.” And, because Wolfwood was a moron with no brain-to-mouth filter, he added, “Is it cool with you if I just stay here for the day? It’s nice. Good for… uh, naps. And shit.”

Vash lit up, nodding eagerly, almost bouncing on his feet. “Yeah, yeah, totally! We’d love to have you here! If— if you want, I can drop by again on my Meryl-mandated break? Only if you’re fine with it, of course!”

He shrugged. “I’d never say no, Blondie. Now you better get on back to your job and get Shortie to stop glaring at me.”

“Eh?” He whipped around, and Meryl immediately switched her expression from murderous to the picture of innocence, sticking out her tongue playfully at Vash. Wolfwood still clocked the moment that Vash realized what she was playing out. He chuckled, throwing him a grin over his shoulder as he walked back to the bar. “Okay, okay. I’ll see you in a bit, Wolfwood!”

Wolfwood waved lazily, sipping on the too-sweet latte. This was definitely going to be his new hangout spot.

•••

As it turned out, Knives did not simply want Wolfwood to hang around with his darling baby brother — though Vash was quick to say that they were twins, thank you very much! —, which was very unfortunate. In fact, he clearly stipulated that Wolfwood was to limit unneeded interactions with Vash as much as possible, because an “imbecile like you does not need to taint my brother with your horrible presence.” He didn’t plan on actually doing that, but he was being sent constant reminders that he had to figure out Vash’s ‘moving pattern’ and send them a list of future possible locations.

He realized how odd that was in the evening, teeth clattering as he rested his head against the bus window. Wolfwood usually served as an ‘exterminator’ of sorts, spending his weekdays working on dead bodies and his weekends, unfortunately, striking through the resumes of young hopefuls. He liked to think he was doing them a favor by not subjecting them to Knives’s reign of terror; it really just made their job hunting that much harder, but it helped pay the orphanage’s bills. It was one faceless graduate against the many faces of the kids. The choice was easy.

What wasn’t easy, however, was putting together why Wolfwood was tasked with gathering intel on Vash — Zazie usually did that, the freak — and convincing him to sell his quaint, well-loved shop. Sure, it was easy enough to agree to the task once Knives waved the permanent bonus he’d be getting in his face, but it was still weird, especially considering how pissed Knives looked every time Wolfwood even glanced at Vash.

His phone pinged. Speak of the devil…

[Zazie Adder (the Beast)]: heyhey wolfie

Speak of the other devil, and they shall fucking answer. He sighed heavily.

[Nicholas D. Wolfwood]: What?

[Zazie Adder (the Beast)]: how was vash wink wink

[Nicholas D. Wolfwood]: Cut to the chase, Zazie. This is the company Slack.

[Zazie Adder (the Beast)]: ugh youre no fun well whatever did you get any new info any patterns or dropped hints or even perhaps motivations

[Nicholas D. Wolfwood]: Not yet, obviously. It was day one. I just got a feel for how the shop and its employees operate and the usual clientele.

He was pulling all of that out of his ass, and he was sure Zazie knew, but he really couldn’t care less. It was an hour past his working hours and the last thing he wanted was to mull over how he didn’t actually accomplish anything that Knives wanted him to do. It wasn’t his fault that the dusty windows softened the light so perfectly and the air smelled like home and it was the perfect time and place to nap. It wasn’t his fault in the slightest. It also wasn’t his fault that he’d bought two baker’s dozens of whatever pastries were left because he knew the kids would adore them. On the company card. Oh, perhaps that was the issue.

[Zazie Adder (the Beast)]: sigh well thats too bad because knives is up in arms about you buying stuff from vash on the company card not that he should be mad because youre helping his brothers livelihood but whatever

[Nicholas D.merit Wolfwood]: I have credits from last year that I needed to use!

[Nicholas D.merit Wolfwood]: Wait. Who changed my display name?

[Zazie Adder (the Beast)]: looks like the mighty hand of god strikes again or whatever you priests say

[Nicholas D.merit Wolfwood]: Since when do we even have demerits?!

[Zazie Adder (the Beast)]: shrug emoji since you decided to fund knives brothers enterprise on his dime when he clearly doesnt want that

[Nicholas D.merit Wolfwood]: This is ridiculous!

Wolfwood rolled his eyes, tapping on his icon and changing his name back. They weren’t five . If Knives had a problem with him using his credits, he could call him into his office at eight in the morning tomorrow.

[Nicholas D. Wolfwood]: Knives, you can talk to me about this tomorrow. Quit changing my display name??

[Millions Knives Saverem reacted with ‘thumbs down’]

Wolfwood huffed.

[Nicholas D.umb Wolfwood]: Fine then.

[Nicholas D.umb Wolfwood]: This is even worse! Slack isn’t a playground?! At least insult me artfully???

[Millions Knives Saverem]: You are not deserving of the effort. Do better tomorrow.

[Nicholas D.umb Wolfwood]: This is ridiculous. I’m logging off for tonight. Goodnight.

[Zazie Adder (the Beast)]: gngn nichols dumb demerit wolfwood

[Nicholas D.umb Wolfwood]: At least spell my name right.

With that, he shut his phone, shoving it back into his pocket with a grumble. Despite Knives being nearly two years older than him, he still acted like more of a brat than Wolfwood. Changing his name in the company chat on Slack , however, was a new low. Maybe he should tell Vash tomorrow…

The bus finally rumbled to a stop right as he was beginning to get worried about the pastries going cold. After handing the bus driver a tip, he began the quick jog to Hopeland Orphanage. It was on the outskirts of Jeneora Rock, serving both them and part of December, and it had been his home since he was conscious. So around since he was four. Sure, he had his own apartment closer to his workplaces, but, more often than not, he ended up spending the night with Miss Melanie and the kids. She never once shamed him for coming back even as he was nearing his thirties, and the kids hung onto him like they were scared he’d disappear every night.

It was a justified fear, to be fair. But now he was here to stay for as long as they would have him.

The jog went by quickly, and he was soon smothered by kids clinging onto his legs and torso and small hands grappling for the pastries. He snorted, raising the box high above his head. A chorus of whines and ‘Nicoooo’s sounded out, but he fixed them with his best older brother glare.

“After dinner, you brats!” he scolded, matching the best puppy eyes with his own narrowed gaze.

“What did you bring them now, Nicholas?” Miss Melanie asked, laughing gently.

No matter how much he talked to her, Melanie’s comforting voice and kind eyes never failed to make him feel like a little kid again. He grinned. “You know that bakery in Jeneora proper?”

She hummed thoughtfully, skillfully stepping over the wiggling kids to take one of the boxes from his hands. “The one with the cute name? Love and Coffee, or something like that?”

“Uh huh. Apparently, Love and Coffee’s owner is Knives’s brother.” He followed her to the mess hall, putting both of the pastry boxes on top of the fridge and pulling on a well-worn apron. It was soft now with who-knows-how-many layers of flour settled into it. “Met him at that Fourth of July party, so I figured I’d drop by at his shop.”

Melanie raised a brow at him, eyes twinkling mischievously. “Oh? Is maintaining connections the only reason you went and bought 26 pastries?”

Wolfwood groaned, face heating up. “Miss Mel…”

“Aye, lighten up, Nico,” she laughed, swatting him with a dishrag. “I know what you’re like, son. You’ll make friends with him, but you won’t ever actually find time for you two, will you?”

“I work two jobs, Mel. Of course I can’t! Plus, his brother, AKA my boss, hates me, so even if… it just wouldn’t work.”

In that way that mothers so often have, she skewered him with a sharp look and a frown. “You know I want you to take time for yourself, Nick. Do you want it?”

He hesitated, taking his time as he brushed the dinner rolls with butter. “Want what?”

“Whatever it is that you’re looking for with this new friend.”

He did. By God, he wanted it more than anything. But it felt unfair to become friends with Vash when he was playing double agent in the worst way possible. Wolfwood had seen the way he looked at his patrons and the store, so full of sun-bright adoration and joy. And it was all about to get trampled on because Wolfwood needed a raise despite working two jobs.

So yes, he did want it. Badly.

What he said instead was: “Are the kids seated?”

Melanie sighed, nodding at him with a tired smile. He picked up the pot of rice and set it against his hip, sighing at the pleasant warmth that seeped through his dress shirt. “Always thinking of us, Nico. Make sure to save yourself one of those treats, okay?”

“Sure thing, Mel.”

He ended up splitting the glazed donut into quarters for the teens after they’d helped him put the kids to bed. He’d gotten plenty of sugar at Vash’s, he told himself; nothing beat the sweetness of getting bone crushing hugs from the kids, though.

Chapter Text

Entirely by design and totally not by choice, Love and Coffee became Wolfwood’s favorite hangout spot. Sure, traveling from city outskirts to wherever Vash decided to set up shop next was a hassle, but it was worth it when he got a fantastic cup of coffee—never black, unfortunately, due to Vash’s silly vendetta—and time to unwind a little before returning home to his rascals. It was especially nice when he’d get off from a tough shift at the funeral home, hobble into the shop with cigarette smoke and the smell of formaldehyde clinging to his shirt, and immediately be hit with the brightest sunshine smile and a pastry to go.

There was one day where the images of IVs and opened arteries had burned themselves into his retinas and he’d used the last of his change for the ludicrous bus fare in the city. Taking Angelina to and from home was fine, but god forbid he have to drive her in the city proper. It was a madhouse and Wolfwood, for one, did not want to risk his precious bike. So instead, he risked his wallet and rode the bus. To make matters worse, the bus stop was a block away from the shop. He didn’t mind too much since it gave him time to get a smoke in, but it was still a hassle and he was exhausted and he already had a twelve hour shift on his feet, why did he have to walk more?

He almost didn’t notice that he was about to stomp into the shop like a petulant child until Vash appeared in front of him, blocking the entrance, and plucked the cigarette from his mouth with a cheeky smile.

“You know we’re a no smoking shop,” he chided lightly.

Wolfwood scowled, rolling his eyes. “Give a man a break.” Still, he couldn’t be annoyed for too long. The scent of sugar, chocolate, and a hint of citrus hit him, making his mouth water. “Whatcha got cookin’ in the back, Blondie?”

Vash lit up, ashing the cigarette and tossing it into the trash. He grabbed his wrist, pulling him into the shop like a little kid. “I remembered you mentioned that you liked orange chocolate cake, so I tried baking it! Hold on, hold on, it’s almost ready. Just sit tight for a few minutes, okay? Meryl!”

She popped up from behind the counter, already wearing her special Wolfwood-only scowl. “What?”

“Can you make Wolfwood his drink? I’m gonna go check on the cake!”

The sigh she heaved out was immense compared to her size. Wolfwood grinned. “Sure, Vash.”

“Thanks, Meryl!” he said, dashing to the back.

She rolled her eyes, grumbling something about how ‘this better be worth it.’ “What do you want, Wolfwood?”

“Oh, c’mon. I know that’s not how you greet paying customers, Li’l Miss,” he jibed, leaning against the counter. “I’ll have to give this place a bad review on Yelp if you keep this up. It’s a shame, too. The owner’s real cute.”

Meryl scowled, jabbing a finger into his side. He frowned. “This is what I mean! You come into the shop smelling like formaldehyde, haunt the place like a ghost, and leer at Vash!”

“Look, unless he has a problem with it, I’m sure you can put on your big girl pants and play nice with me,” Wolfwood scoffed. “‘Sides. You should hear some of the things he says to me. He’s filthy.”

“Whatever,” she grumbled, turning back to the cash register. “What do you want?”

“Black coffee, large, no creamer and just a pinch of sugar. And whatever Vash recommends,” he said, pulling out his wallet. Meryl snorted, looking just a tad bit too gleeful as she informed him of the day’s biggest travesty.

“Vash still isn’t serving you black coffee, remember?”

He groaned. “Seriously, what the fuck is his vendetta against me, specifically, drinking black coffee?”

She shrugged. “Ask him yourself. What do you want? And make sure it’s something you can actually order this time.”

He held up a finger, pulling out his phone and doing a quick search. Really, it wasn’t the black coffee that was appealing— it was the caffeine. So, if he just did some quick math and threw up a prayer to the big guy upstairs, then this should work.

“Four espresso shots,” he said, pocketing his phone. Meryl blinked.

“Like— straight espresso shots? Not in a drink?”

He raised a brow. “I said what I said, Shortie. Four espresso shots.”

She grimaced, but nodded. “Four espresso shots. Anything else?”

He hummed, glancing thoughtfully at the selection of sandwiches in the display case. As much as he liked Vash’s bakery items—which was surprising, considering he didn’t even have a sweet tooth—, he suspected he’d need actual food to actually down four espresso shots.

“One of those egg sandwiches would be great.”

“‘Kay. Anything else?”

“Nah.” He pulled out his card, waiting for Meryl to swivel around the screen so that he could swipe. “Need to save room for whatever Blondie decided to concoct.”

She huffed amusedly. “Fair enough. That’ll be $$8.50. Card or cash?”

“Card today, Li’l Miss. Gotta make sure the government knows I’m a law abiding citizen,” he chuckled. Meryl narrowed her eyes.

“Do you know something about financial crimes, Wolfwood?”

Did he? Sure he did. Millions Knives was a good entrepreneur, sure, but no one got that successful by just selling mediocre coffee. Unfortunately, he couldn’t spill the beans, so to say, considering his ‘best paying’ job was on the line. Instead, he just shrugged.

“Couldn’t tell ya. Why? Does Spikey have a warrant out for his arrest or something?” he joked, but frowned as Meryl’s eyes went wide. “Wait, what the fuck? Does he actually?”

She glanced around frantically, grimacing, and gestured for him to lean down. “You don’t understand how weird his finances are. Even if he’s not, like, a murderer, I wouldn’t be surprised if this place was a laundering scheme or a front for the mafia.”

Wolfwood made sure his response was as nonchalant as it could be. It wasn’t like Eye of Michael Brews was a mafia, per se, but it was definitely involved in some sort of scandal Knives had pushed under the rug. But, if Vash was the one with vaguely illegal dealings, then what was Wolfwood convincing him to do? Sell one illegal operation to the other?

He narrowed his eyes. “You think Vash Saverem, kicked puppy extraordinaire, is running a mafia front?”

Meryl clicked her tongue. “Look at his brother! Would you be surprised?”

Uh oh. She wasn’t supposed to make that connection.

He sighed, pushing his sunglasses up and pinching the bridge of his nose like he just got the worst headache of his life. “Listen, can I just get my shit? I want to be home before sunset today.”

“Swipe your card, then!” She huffed, spinning the screen away from him as soon as he was done. “God. It’ll be done when it’s done.”

“Sure, whatever.” Regardless of Meryl’s foul attitude, Wolfwood still made sure to drop a generous amount of change into the tip jar. Miss Melanie would have his head if he didn’t. “Holler if you need me.”

Meryl wrinkled her nose. “I know how to do my job, thanks. Go sit down.”

He grunted, making his way over to his favorite booth, which was blissfully empty. The evening rush was set to start in twenty or so minutes, and Wolfwood really wasn’t lying when he said he’d like to be home before sunset today. His bed was practically calling to him. In fact… knowing Meryl’s pettiness, it would probably be twenty minutes until he got his order. That was enough time to sneak in a nap, he decided, shrugging off his blazer and bundling it up into a makeshift pillow. Sleep came to him easily, the coffee shop working its magic once again, and Wolfwood drifted off.

Someone was gently shaking him, and the café was louder than he remembered. Rush hour had begun and Wolfwood instantly felt bad for making one of them wake him up. Still, he grumbled, rubbing his eyes as he sat up. He squinted blearily at Vash, who was smiling at him with unabashed fondness. It was always that damned thousand-watt smile of his; Wolfwood cleared his throat, glancing away before he thought something embarrassing.

“Sorry to wake you, Wolfwood,” Vash said, laughing softly. The ceramic dishes clinked gently as he set them down “But your order—and your sneaky loophole to my black coffee rule—are ready. Once the rush clears, I’ll get you a piece of the cake too. I think you’ll like it!”

“I think I’ll like an’thing you make, Spikes,” Wolfwood mumbled sleepily, tearing off a piece of the sandwich.

Vash squeaked, and a grown man making that sound had no right to be as endearing as it was. Wolfwood chuckled. “So you can dish it but can’t take it?”

“H-Hey! I can totally take it!”

“Mhm,” he hummed, yawning. “Well. Guess you should get back to your loyal posse. Talk to me when you don’t have three tables to wait on, yeah?”

Vash sighed dramatically, nodding. “Yeah. Call me over if you need anything, okay?”

“Sure thing.”

With one last smile, Vash was off. Wolfwood chewed his sandwich thoughtfully, alternating between eating it and letting the four espresso shots work their magic on his system. The coffee here was leagues better than at either of his workplaces, and it was a shame that Knives wanted to acquire Love and Coffee— he’d just make it into another corporate dump and replace the love that made this place so special with middle-grade coffee. If he didn’t have the orphanage to think about, Wolfwood would void his contract with Eye of Michael Brews in a heartbeat and beg for a job here. Even thinking that felt wrong, though. He didn’t deserve to want to be a part of this , especially when he was actively trying to sabotage its success. The realization soured in his stomach, and he suddenly didn’t want to finish his food. With a sigh, he got up, making his way to the counter to ask for a takeaway box. He felt bad leaving Vash high and dry after promising to try the cake he had made, but he felt even worse about enjoying Love and Coffee’s homeliness.

Those plans became null and void the second an angry customer stormed up to the counter and threw their coffee cup at Vash and Meryl. The shop went deathly silent, save for Meryl’s yelp as Vash pulled her out of the way. All eyes were on them, but they didn’t seem to care, glaring coldly at Vash. Wolfwood was suddenly itching for a fight, but Vash caught his eye, shaking his head slightly. He clicked his tongue but paused, watching the customer closely.

They clearly weren’t from Jeneora Rock—or any surrounding town, for that matter—, too sunburned for that. And, more importantly, everyone around Jeneora Rock knew better than to fuck with them. The town was close-knit and very, very protective of its beloved little coffee haven. Even the kids at Hopeland ended up loving the ‘coffee guy.’ The point was, the tourist fucked up majorly.

Vash laughed nervously, too high-pitched and wobbly. He carefully placed himself between the customer and Meryl. “I’m so sorry for whatever upset you! Could you please tell me what was wrong with your coffee?”

“It’s cold!” they spat. “I thought this was the best rated coffee shop this side of No Man’s? It’s clearly not living up to the hype, I’ll tell your sorry ass that much.”

Wolfwood watched in real time as a piece of Vash’s heart cracked, but he still kept up that goddamn customer service smile. Meryl scowled, stepping out from behind Vash.

“I’m sorry, but you picked up your drink thirty minutes ago. Of course it’s cold. If you’d have liked, we could have heated it up for you,” she said matter-of-factly. “Unfortunately, now you have no drink and a café full of people who are judging you.”

The tourist flushed, but their scowl didn’t waver. “I want a refund. There’s an EoM store right in downtown, and the only reason everyone else in this damn café comes here is because they’re trying to be pretentious by not going to a chain. Fucking sheep.”

Vash smiled indulgently, all teeth and porcelain. “Of course! I’m really sorry about—”

“Okay, okay, hold up,” Wolfwood snapped, laughing harshly. “Who the fuck do you think you are?”

The tourist blinked, giving him a disgusted once over. “I should be asking you that. Mind your own damn business.”

“Anything that involves this town becomes ‘my damn business,’ asshole. Especially when you’re talkin’ shit with my buddy over there.” He took a step closer, rolling up his sleeves. “So get talkin’. What the fuck do you think you’re doing? What the fuck do you think gives you the damn right to barge in here, insult our town, talk shit about our coffee shop, and fucking demand a refund?!”

The customer scoffed, glancing between him and Vash. They had a spine, Wolfwood had to admit. The thing was, the smartest people knew when to bend the knee when he was gearing up for a fight; this one clearly lacked intelligence, though.

“Why are you so protective, huh?” they snapped, taking a step back anyway. “Got something to do with his pretty face?”

Wolfwood paused, eye twitching. “Say that again. I dare you.”

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Rosa adjust her grip on her cup, looking entirely ready to chuck it at the tourist. In fact, everyone in the shop looked set to kick their ass. Even little Tonis had his bug catcher poised and ready to hit. It was a little vindicating, to be honest; Knives had been talking about how unappreciative Jeneora was, but the living proof was here. Vash looked more and more nervous by the second, and Wolfwood vaguely recalled Knives saying something about avoiding conflict. He couldn’t give a rat’s ass right now, though.

The tourist scoffed. “Admit it: the only reason you care so much about this dump is because of its owner. He’s a looker, but he can’t brew coffee to save his goddamn life .”

Vash took a shuddering breath, and that was all the prompting Wolfwood really needed. He grinned, all canines, and stalked towards the tourist. Their eyes widened, and they took a step back. A ring of people had formed around the two of them, though, and the tourist was getting nowhere .

“Listen, dipshit, you don’t know good coffee ‘til you’ve had a southern brew.” He jabbed a thumb at Vash. “And he’s the best in the region, I’ll have you know. You’re just a pathetic little nobody who thinks they have the right to march into town and demand they be catered to. You have no fucking right to insult everything he does, imply he’s a bop, and then take advantage of his kindness.”

He leaned down, venom dripping from every word. “Scum like you don’t deserve to be in Jeneora, much less in Love and Coffee. If I had my way, I’d take you out back and shoot you like a dog. But no one here deserves to have to clean up the stain you’d leave.”

“ Wolfwood, stop!” Vash admonishes, clearly horrified. Meryl just nods approvingly at him, keeping Vash from vaulting over the counter.

The tourist blinked owlishly, slack jawed. “Excuse me? What gives you the right to talk to me like that? Jeneora needs to keep its dogs on better leashes.”

“Oh, you’ll wish I was on a leash,” Wolfwood lunged forward, grabbing the customer by the collar and started to drag them out of the shop.

Behind him, Vash cursed sharply. Wolfwood assumed he broke free from Meryl’s hold, if her yelp was anything to go by, and he was on Wolfwood and the customer in a second. It was scarily fast and would have jostled anyone else, but Wolfwood was nothing if not stubborn. He clicked his tongue, annoyed.

“Come on, you can’t get mad at me for shutting their trap,” Wolfwood said sharply. “The fuck were you doing, letting them talk to you like that? ”

“Let them go, Wolfwood,” Vash murmured, voice as soft as ever. What was new, though, was the steel underneath it. It wasn’t a plea; it was an order.

He scoffed. “Let me kick them out. Then we’ll talk about whatever that bullshit was.”

“...Don’t hurt them,” he said after a moment.

Wolfwood rolled his eyes but nodded, dragging the customer towards the door and shoving them out. “Get the fuck outta Jeneora before Rosa or I come to take you out. Capisce?”

The tourist stared at him, wide eyed and shaken up before breaking into a run. It was a pathetic fucking sight. He took a deep breath, burying the rest of his anger to be dealt with later. He had a lecture to deal with.

He went back in, catching Rosa’s eye. She nodded at him approvingly. It was kind of funny, actually: just a few weeks ago, she was telling him to not cause trouble. Vash, however, looked far less pleased, his eyes dark and stormy.

“Don’t start fights in my shop,” he snapped. “I had it handled! We deal with angry customers all the time!”

Wolfwood raised a brow. “Yeah, I don’t think acquiescence is ‘handling’ it. Why the hell didn’t you do anything about them throwing a damn coffee cup at you two, huh?”

“It’s rush hour! I can’t spend too much time with any one person, and just apologizing and getting them out as fast as possible was the best I could do for everyone else.”

At that, Meryl scoffed. “Oh, please. Look around you, Vash. No one else wanted you to just shut up and take it! Tonis was ready to hit them, weren’t you, buddy?”

The kid nodded eagerly.

She nodded approvingly, turning back to glare at Vash. “See? Everyone would have understood if you needed to make them wait a bit longer to deal with an asshole like that.”

Vash glanced around him, seemingly calculating the odds of him winning an argument against all of his patrons, coworkers, and Wolfwood. The odds clearly weren’t in his favor, and he sighed, slouching.

“Next time, I don’t want you—” he glanced pointedly at Wolfwood, who just grinned, “—saying awful things again. Just… just kick them out or something.”

“That implies he’ll be here for next time,” Roberto piped up, leaning lazily against the counter. He must have come to watch the show; it was a little menacing how quietly the old man could move when he wanted to. “Which I, for one, am not opposed to. Having our own punisher would be a damn good investment.”

Wolfwood narrowed his eyes at him. “Oh yeah? An investment?”

“An investment.” Roberto turned to Vash. “If he’s up for it, I think you should hire him officially. He spends most of his free time here anyway.”

It was the perfect opportunity, really, and Wolfwood almost thanked the man. That would ruin the whole ‘punisher’ image Roberto decided to create for him, though, so he didn’t. He’d just be a bit extra nice to him for a few days.

Vash frowned, glancing at Wolfwood. “I don’t know, Roberto. He’s already working at the funeral home and in EoM’s admin team.”

“I don’t mind working weekends,” he said, shrugging. “It’ll give me something to do, anyhow.”

“...I’ll think about it.” Vash paused, scanning over his customers, then nodded once. “More importantly, I think I made enough orange dark chocolate cake for everyone! Just let me get the coffee cleaned up, then we’ll let you all sample our newest recipe.”

And then, because Vash Saverem is nothing if not sentimental, he smiled at Wolfwood, who glanced away immediately. “Courtesy of our ‘very own punisher,’ or whatever Roberto said.”

Thankfully, the cake was totally worth the mild embarrassment from all the knowing glances he got.

•••

Wolfwood had been at Love and Coffee nearly every day for three months, whether it be after a shift at his day job or he was clocking in for his third side hustle. Despite that, he couldn’t tell anyone what Vash’s rhyme and reason for his location changes was. Hell, he couldn’t even give an address half the time, considering Vash tended to set up shop in some derelict warehouse off the road. The last time he’d managed to pin an address and send it to Knives, Vash was up and gone the next day and Wolfwood looked like a damn liar.

Still, he wasn’t complaining that Vash was still running circles around him and the Eye. It let Wolfwood spend more time in Jeneora proper. It was a nice change of pace from his usual routine of work, home, sleep, occasionally visit Hopeland, and repeat ad nauseum. He walked into the backroom to clock in for his afternoon shift, nodding at Roberto. He got a glare in return, which was just fascinating. Why would Roberto suggest hiring him if he was just going to give him the stink eye every time he walked in? Again, not that Wolfwood was complaining.

“What crawled up your ass today, old man?” he scoffed, using the computer that was probably as old as him to clock in. “Someone piss in your cereal?”

“You’re a real charmer, Punisher,” Roberto muttered, waving him off. 

Wolfwood shrugged, grabbing his apron off of the hook and making his way to the floor. It was right after the lunch rush—why Vash refused to schedule him for the rush was beyond him—, meaning he had to do dishes and sweep while Meryl took her ten. He didn’t really mind that, either: it reminded him of how he would help Miss Melanie clean up after lunch and dinner, doing the dishes and wiping down the big dining table. Wolfwood glanced at the speakers as he tied his apron around his waist. It was Vash’s day to pick the music, so he naturally picked indie rock as soon as rush hour was over.

“What obscure band did you choose today?” Wolfwood asked, sneaking behind Vash. He chuckled, straightening up from where he was wiping down the counter.

“VOILÁ. Your day’s tomorrow, so I don’t want to hear any complaints.”

“Me? Complain?” he gasped, placing a hand over his heart dramatically. “I would never! Your ears will be bleeding, though.”

Vash wrinkled his nose. “Your music taste is like a teenager’s.”

“Yours isn’t any better, Blondie.” 

Making sure that Vash wasn’t looking at him, Wolfwood snuck towards the coffee cabinet. Trying to make a cup of black coffee had become a game of sorts between them: Wolfwood tried desperately to make it, and Vash, killjoy that he was, would stop him. They’d been doing this little dance for nearly two weeks now, and Wolfwood was determined to get his black coffee today. Vash was distracted, staring out the window in deep thought as he gnawed on his lip, and Meryl was in the breakroom. If he could just make it another few inches…

However, as his luck would have it, Vash was next to him in the blink of an eye, gently pulling his hand away from the cabinet. He was rubbing his thumb over Wolfwood’s pulse point and— goddammit, now he was the one distracted. He sighed deeply.

“You piss me off, Spikey,” he grumbled but made no move to pull his hand away. “When will you let me have my damn coffee? Do you just want me to continue drinking all your espresso shots?”

Vash hummed, smiling slightly. “You’ll get it one day.” He paused, narrowing his eyes at Wolfwood’s neck. “This is the first time I’ve seen you in a choker.”

He raised a brow, smirking. “Yeah? You like it?”

Vash’s grin widened into something dangerous and teasing. He let go of Wolfwood’s wrist and brought his flesh hand up to the choker, pressing the pad of his thumb into one of the studs. Wolfwood’s breath hitched and he almost swayed forward. Would have, too, if Meryl didn’t barge in right at that moment. Vash and Wolfwood jumped apart, and he cleared his throat.

“Li’l Miss.”

Meryl frowned at him, glancing between him and Vash, who just grinned sheepishly and rubbed the back of his neck. “Okay. I’m not gonna ask, but only because my previous train of thought was way more interesting.”

“Oh? Do tell!” Vash said brightly, picking up his discarded rag.

“I was thinking about your brother’s name. Were you serious?”

Vash snorted, nodding. “Dead. Rem—our, uh, mom—thought it’d be cute to let him pick his own name, but we were… Well, we were three, and he’s always had a fascination with pointy things.”

“So he’s always been a freak. Got it,” Wolfwood muttered, holding out his freshly brewed coffee. Vash sighed, absentmindedly pouring milk into it. Another unspoken rule of their game, he supposed.

“He’s just… himself. There’s not much else to say. I think Rem just introduced him to Westerns too early,” Vash laughed. Wolfwood shook his head, glancing at Meryl. She seemed lost in thought, but, according to him, Knives’s name was nothing to ponder so hard over.

“What’re you thinking, Shortie?”

She jolted, staring at him like a deer caught in headlights. She tittered nervously, shaking her head. “N-Nothing! Uh, I’m gonna go finish the dishes now. Wolfwood, make sure Vash takes his ten within the next twenty minutes.”

With that, she rushed to the back. Vash watched her leave with an unreadable expression on his face, making Wolfwood shudder. It was weird seeing that expression on Vash when Knives wore it so often. It was moments like these that reminded him that those two were, in fact, brothers.

He shook himself, then glared at Vash. “Take your damn break. I know for a fact you haven’t sat down since you clocked in.”

“Oh, uh— haha. You got me,” Vash said, smiling guiltily. “Sorry.”

“Christ. It’s always an apology with you,” he grumbled. “Go sit down and scroll on your phone for at least ten minutes, dumbass. I’ll beat your ass myself if I see you working.”

“What if I watch you clean?” Vash countered. It was phrased like a challenge, sure, but Wolfwood heard the implications loud and clear. He choked on his coffee, coughing. Vash’s face fell, and they couldn’t have that happening.

“I ain’t stopping you,” he said after catching his breath. He leaned forward slightly, grinning. “Maybe I’ll even put on a show.”

Vash’s eyes widened, a pretty blush dusting his cheeks.

“Go park your ass in a seat, otherwise you won't get a clean shop at all, much less a show.”

“Oh come on, that’s unfair!”

“Fine, I guess I’m just not going to clean up,” Wolfwood said blithely, shrugging. Vash groaned.

“Ugh! Fine!” He stalked over to a chair and plopped down into a pile of gangly limbs and his garish red jacket. Wolfwood smirked. Easy.

•••

Knives evidently remembered his assignment halfway through the fourth month, and Wolfwood woke up to a wall of text from Zazie.

[Zazie Adder (the Beast)]: hey wolfie just checking up on how your big important huge massive assignment is going because its been three months and you really havent given us much information to go off of buddy and the one address you sent turned out to be a huge massive dud arent you supposed to be really good at communication like youre literally our marketing manager regardless give us an update

[Nicholas D.amned Wolfwood]: He literally has no pattern to his movements, otherwise I’d have told you! Why don’t one of you convince Jeneora’s city council to give addresses to all of the damn warehouses that are just laying out and about?

[Zazie Adder (the Beast)]: How does Vash take his coffee.

[Nicholas D.amned Wolfwood]: Medium almond milk flat white with honey and vanilla, let sit for thirty-five seconds and another drizzle of honey on top. Why?

[Zazie Adder (the Beast)]: okay so what im hearing is that you know precisely how vash takes his coffee but you have no idea where his shop is

Wolfwood blushed, dragging a hand down his face. Seeing it spelled out was mortifying, but really, he… didn’t hate it. It left a syrupy sweetness in his chest, and— okay, perhaps it was a slight problem.

[Nicholas D.amned Wolfwood]: I spend every day there. Of course I know how he takes his coffee.

[Zazie Adder (the Beast)]: and im sure you know exactly how to make it too loverboy

They could read him like a damn book. Wolfwood sighed and shook his head, reacting with a thumbs down emoji and turning off his phone. He rolled out of bed, making sure to be as quiet as possible to avoid waking the kids up. It was five-thirty in the morning on a Saturday and his little fiends had managed to coerce him into staying the weekend with them. Not that he minded, really, because it meant that he got to spend time with them, lend Miss Melanie a helping hand, and feel like a kid again for a day or two. Plus, Vash’s current location was only half an hour away, as opposed to his usual travel time of an hour one way. Another benefit to staying over at the orphanage he supposed. In fact, he could probably get away with driving to Love and Coffee for his afternoon shift today, rather than spending more of his bus money.

Nodding to himself, he stretched, groaning in relief as his joints popped. It was early enough that he’d have the kitchen to himself and get time to prepare breakfast for the rascals. Tiptoeing downstairs, he poked his head into the nursery, doing a quick scan over the littlest ones. The babies were sound asleep—though they’d be awake in another hour and a half sharp—and the toddlers were all in various poses as they slept. He smiled softly and closed the door with a quiet click. He took a quick stop at the older kids’ rooms too, waving at Jasmine as she sleepily looked up. She nodded and flopped back down. He huffed a quiet laugh and closed the door.

These quiet mornings were his favorites— the kids were asleep, Miss Melanie was resting, and he had time to himself in his favorite place. It was a shame Livio was so busy with classes right now, otherwise they could’ve prepared breakfast together. Maybe during Thanksgiving break, he mused. Regardless, he had twenty-something odd kids to feed and the clock was ticking. Turning on the crackly little radio Miss Melanie installed in the kitchen, he hummed to some silly pop song as he took out the ingredients for pancakes. He might as well give them a treat while he was here.

The hour flew by in a blink. He was left with a sizable stack of warm, fluffy pancakes—courtesy of the recipe Vash so graciously shared with him—once the kids started waking up. A few of the toddlers had already padded downstairs, rubbing their eyes sleepily. He could hear Miss Melanie and the older kids talking upstairs, handling the fussy babies and still-asleep toddlers. He wiped his hands off on his apron, leaning down to pick up one of the kids clinging to his legs. Wolfwood bumped their heads together lightly, smiling softly at him.

“Good morning, Jamie. How’d you sleep, buddy?” he asked quietly.

“Good,” Jamie mumbled, smushing his face into Wolfwood’s shoulder. “Pancake.”

He chuckled. “Yep. I’ll have breakfast set in a few minutes, okay? Why don’t you go freshen up, baby?”

“Mmm… okay,” Jamie yawned, wiggling in his arms. Wolfwood set him down, snickering at his unsteady gait. “Thanks, Woowoo.”

Oh, that one was new. He grimaced slightly; it was going to spread like wildfire, and the next thing he knew, all the kids would be calling him ‘Woowoo.’

With breakfast a massive success — he’d have to remember to tell Vash how much the kids enjoyed the pancakes — and the littles down for a nap, he finally got a moment to breathe. Sitting in Miss Melanie’s office, he idly sipped on a hot cup of tea.

“Do you have another shift today, Nicholas?” she asked, glancing up from her computer. He sighed, nodding. “You work too much, dear. Why don’t you take a day off?”

He shrugged. “Honestly, Miss Mel? I like working there the best. I get free coffee, the owner lets me take stuff home, and it’s kinda fun.”

“But you’ve been working a lot . You still have an hour or two before you need to go in.” She sighed, leaning across the desk to brush his bangs out of his eyes. He leaned into the touch, humming slightly. “Think about it?”

“Mmm. Maybe I’ll take tomorrow off. I’ll ask and see what the schedule looks like.”

She nodded, sitting back down. Wolfwood watched her work absentmindedly, swinging a leg over the side of the armchair. Since he took on the bonus pay and third job, she’d been seeming a lot less stressed. If he could take a little bit of extra work if it meant making her life easier, he’d do it over and over again. That still didn’t save him from her teasing, though. He narrowed his eyes as a mischievous grin spread over her face.

“What?” he demanded, frowning.

“When are you going to take us to meet this boss of yours?” she asked pleasantly, far too put together for what she was implying. “I’ve never seen you this excited to go to work, so I figured your boss must be great!”

“Mel, it’s nothing like that!”

She laughed. “Darling, I know you work at Love and Coffee, and I’ve heard great things about it and its owner. If it’s something about him, you know I won’t judge…”

He groaned, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Ningalellaavarum bhayankararaanu. [1] I’d update you on my love life if I had one, Mel. And it’s definitely not with my boss!”

“As you say, Nicholas,” Melanie chuckled. “You should go get ready, though. It’s a bit away, isn’t it?”

“Yeah.” He got up, picking up Melanie’s empty cup. “Thirty or so minutes. I’m closing tonight, so don’t wait up too long, okay?”

“Alright, darling. Drive safe!”

He chuckled, waving at her as he left the room. “Sure thing, Miss Mel.”

And that was how he ended up twenty minutes early to his shift. He didn’t really mind it, though. Kicking down Angelina’s stand, he got off of his bike and stretched languidly, plucking a crumpled cigarette out of his pocket. Vash was very insistent on him not smoking in front of the shop, so he was able to sneak around to the back of the building for a pre-shift smoke. Vash never said shit when he came back here, so he figured it’d be okay. 

Even with his extra smoke break, he had five minutes to kill. He ashed the cigarette and tossed it into a nearby trash can, then wandered into the shop. Clocking in early never hurt anyone, so he waved smugly to a surprised Meryl and made his way to the backroom. Roberto squinted at him, frowning.

“Well, ain’t this a sight. You’re early.”

He shrugged. “The hell was I gonna do outside the shop? Loiter like a delinquent?”

“Wouldn’t put it past you, son.”

Wolfwood flipped Roberto off, earning a low chuckle for his efforts. After clocking in, he went to grab his apron but frowned at seeing Vash’s hanging next to it.

“Is Blondie not in today?”

“Eh? Nah, the kid’s in. He’s just in the back on a call. Said Hundreds Spoons wanted to talk,” Roberto grunted.

Wolfwood frowned. It wasn’t that Vash couldn’t talk to his own damn brother, but Knives calling right before the start of his shift wasn’t a great sign. As it was, he could barely see Vash’s shadow on the wall, moving agitatedly as he whisper-yelled about something.

“Doesn’t sound promising,” he muttered.

Roberto scoffed, shaking his head. “Never does when Millions Knives is involved. Now go start your job, you’re costing us dollars.”

“Thought you said I was a good investment, Gramps,” he shot back, tying his apron around his waist anyway.

“Guess I’m going senile.”

Wolfwood snorted, flipping Roberto off again for good measure. Meryl gave him her usual greeting: a massive, massive sigh; a glare; and a nod towards whatever needed to be done. The only difference was that Vash wasn’t there to greet him with his dumb glasses and thousand-watt smile. It probably should’ve concerned him how much he already liked being greeted like that, but he decided to shove that thought to the back burner.

A few minutes later, while Wolfwood was sweeping the floor, Vash joined them. He had an odd look in his eyes, all sullen and exhausted, that he immediately tried to hide by smiling just a little too widely. Wolfwood immediately decided he hated that expression, but before he could say as much, Meryl cut in, looking up at Vash.

“How’d the call go? Is everything okay?”

He nodded, giving her a thumbs up. “Yep! Nai was just asking if we wanted to go to the beach. He said he, uh, wants to get to know you all more.”

Meryl blinked. “Isn’t it October?”

Vash chuckled sheepishly, rubbing the back of his neck. The afternoon light reflected prettily off of his arm, coloring the beige walls with teal. “He said he’ll pay for you all to fly to and from the resort.”

Wolfwood narrowed his eyes. “He ain’t that generous.”

Vash sighed, shaking his head. “No, he’s not. It’s, uh. October is important to us. And since I’ve got you guys now, and he really wants to make sure everything’s good, he’s going to pay for you all to go. Oh, and you get to meet our older sister!”

“Tesla, right?” Meryl asked, tilting her head. “I think you mentioned her once or twice.”

He grinned. “Yeah, Tesla. You’re gonna love her.”

Something was still very off about Vash’s demeanour, and Wolfwood itched to figure it out. He didn’t like the plastic smile and sullen eyes. Before he could get very far with his plan to pry into Vash’s head, though, Vash looked towards the front windows, eyes widening.

“Whoa,” he breathed, “Wolfwood, is that your bike?”

Wolfwood grinned, preening slightly. “Sure is. That’s my baby Angelina. She’s a beauty, isn’t she?”

“You should’ve brought her around sooner!” Vash tore his eyes away from Angelina, fixing his excited gaze on Wolfwood. “You’d get around way quicker.”

He pursed his lips. “I work near downtown and trying to find parking is literal hell on workdays, so I usually just take the bus. Costs a pretty penny though, and it’s unreliable as fuck.”

Vash’s smile faltered. “Hey, speaking of— how far from Jeneora proper do you live?”

“I’m near city outskirts, so… I don’t know, usual travel is an hour both ways for me.” He shrugged. “So I’m an hour out.”

“What?! Why didn’t you tell me?” Vash shrieked, rushing forward to shake him by the shoulders. “I have an open room above the places I rent! You could stay there!”

Wolfwood’s brain short circuited. What the hell was this guy’s problem? Who offered another person a place to stay just like that? “Whuh? The fuck are you talking about, Spikes?”

“Well, since all of your jobs are near Jeneora proper, I figured it would be easier if you just stayed near it, and I can do that for you!” he exclaimed, shaking him once more.

“ And just like that, Vash Saverem asked Nicholas D. Wolfwood to move in with him, ” Meryl stage whispered. Vash immediately shot a brilliant shade of tomato red, and Wolfwood suddenly needed fresh air very fast. Meryl snickered.

“Wh—”

“No, uh, sorry! Sorry! I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable! I wasn’t saying— uh, I forgot that I live up there— oh god! Sorry!” Vash stammered, burying his face in his hands. “Oh my god, just forget I said anything.”

It was a little hard to forget that his boss just asked him to basically move in, but sure. He’d try his best. Wolfwood nodded dumbly, muttering something like ‘okay’ or ‘sure thing’ or ‘maybe I wouldn’t mind that.’

“Uh, but… okay, I can get you a permanent bus pass, though,” Vash said after several long moments of fanning his face and avoiding eye contact with Wolfwood. “If you want?”

“We don’t have the budget for that, kid!” Roberto yelled from the back. Vash frowned.

“Take it out of my check! I don’t use the bus anyway!”

“You need electricity too, dumbass!”

Wolfwood blinked, utterly flabbergasted. “Please keep your electricity on? I’ll just drive to the city if it bothers you that much. No biggie.”

Vash turned back to him, pouting and giving him puppy eyes. “I feel bad! Oh jeez, your bus fare must have been insane these past few months. Can I please just get you a bus pass?”

“Can you please keep your goddamn electricity on?” Wolfwood sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Take it out of my check if you must. I literally work two other jobs.”

Vash pouted. “Roberto, where does that leave him?”

“Well paid!” Roberto yelled back. “Just do it, kid!”

With a sigh, Vash finally relented. “Fine! That’s all settled, then.”

Meryl shook her head. “I can’t believe you, Vash. You need electricity, and Wolfwood literally has his bike.”

“I mean, the winters here aren’t that bad! I have a bunch of candles, and I can just cook in the bakery. Technically, I don’t need electricity,” he argued. Wolfwood shut that down immediately.

“I want you to have electricity so that you can finally answer your damned texts, Needles,” he groused. “Dumb bitch.”

“Oho-kay, I see how it is,” Vash sniffed. “My two friends are ganging up on me. Got it. I’ll just see myself out, then. It’s not like internet is a separate bill, or as if I can just charge my phone in the shop. No sir-ee.”

“ Vash ,” Meryl warned. “Shut your mouth before all three of us decide to host an intervention.”

He paled, holding his hands up in surrender. “Okay, okay, point taken. I’ll keep my electricity on. You’re all just like Nai.”

It’s the only time Wolfwood doesn’t mind being compared to Knives.

Chapter Text

Meryl knew Knives was a rich man, but she didn’t quite comprehend how rich he was until she boarded his private jet. Vash refused to make eye contact with any of them as they shuffled onto the plane, carry-ons in various states of disarray. Wolfwood, impolite as usual, had his backpack dangling from his hand and dragging on the floor. Meryl huffed, kicking the back of his knee.

“Pick up your bag, Wolfwood! I nearly tripped on it three times!”

“Use those reporter eyes of yours, Shortie,” he hissed over his shoulder, but hiked the bag onto his shoulder.

Meryl stumbled, blinking owlishly at him. “What?”

“You didn’t think you were the only one with snooping skills, did you, Miss Stryfe?” Wolfwood fell back, slowing to walk next to her. She shuddered. “I wonder what kinda drama I could stir up if I told Vash and Knives who you and the drunkle really are, huh?”

“You wouldn’t… would you? I mean— I mean, you’d be breaking his heart,” Meryl whispered, narrowing her eyes. “It’s a valid investigation.”

“Sure it is. Just as valid as it is to announce that Millions fucking Knives is his brother.” He leaned down, smiling antagonistically. “Old hack is what it is.”

Meryl furrowed her brows. Was this confirmation that Vash was running a money laundering scheme? Or that the coffee shop was a front for some underground coffee cartel? Oh, that was a good title; she’d have to write it down.

Perhaps she should’ve been excited about this seemingly big break: here was verbal confirmation that Vash Saverem was a monetary criminal! But, as the months wore on, she had eventually stopped wanting to be right about him being a criminal. He was the same guy who still snuck patrons treats and put them on his tab despite Roberto’s grousing, who brought in the stray cats for a day when it was cold and rainy, who managed to put a smile on all of their faces no matter how bad their morning. She really, really didn’t want to be right, because that meant losing all of that.

Meryl gave Wolfwood an unimpressed stare, glowering at his smirk. More than all of that, though, it was the fact that her so-called informant was Nicholas D. Wolfwood. He wasn’t exactly reliable.

“Very funny, Wolfwood,” she deadpanned.

“Whatever you say, Missy.”

With that, he jogged forward, hitting Livio on the back of the head. Meryl rolled her eyes at the ensuing bickering. Thankfully, she had convinced Vash to convince Knives to give her and Elendira rooms far, far away from Wolfwood. He was okay on the best of days, and completely insufferable on the worst. Most days happened to be the worst.

Vash tapped her on the shoulder, Roberto right beside him looking thoroughly disinterested. “Roberto’s asking if you wanted the window seat?”

She blinked. “Why didn’t he just ask me himself?”

Vash smiled secretively, shrugging. She hated when he did that, acting like he understood something she didn’t. She frowned.

“Well, Newbie?” Roberto grumbled around his toothpick. “Do ya or do ya not?”

“…Sure. I’ll take the window seat.”

As it turned out, taking the window seat was the best decision she could’ve made. The view was stunning. Rolling dunes of rosy golden sands gave way, after 20 something minutes, to lush greenery. Patches of farmland, fertile and a rich brown, interspersed the dense forest. A river even snaked between the trees, a gorgeous marbling of ceruleans and tans.

Once they reached cruising altitude, Vash twisted around in his seat, peeking over his chair at her. The only things visible were his dorky orange glasses and the tuft of his sunny blond hair. He wiggled his brows.

“It’s pretty, isn’t it?” he asked.

She nodded enthusiastically, leaning forward. “It’s beautiful! I’ve seen a lot of aerial images, but seeing it in person is just… wow. It’s something else.”

She could see the smile in his eyes. “Just wait until we get over the ocean, then. It’s incredible.”

“How long will that be?”

He hummed thoughtfully, glancing at Knives next to him. “I think another hour and a half?”

Knives hummed noncommittally. “Yes. Have you never flown before, Miss Stryfe?”

Meryl paused at the name. Had Wolfwood seriously told him? That could compromise the entire investigation, which would lead to her losing her job and becoming a failure to her family and drowning in debt and—

“Meryl?” Vash prompted, tilting his head.

“Sorry, sorry— I was just thinking.” She cleared her throat. “I’ve flown before, but they were always red eye flights. I never really got to, uh, appreciate the view.”

“I see,” Knives said, sounding thoroughly disinterested. “Well, Vash, when we get to the airport, we will send everyone off to the resort. You and I will pick up Tesla and go with her to the resort. Understand?”

Vash’s whole face lit up, and it was so endearing that Meryl had to bite back a giggle. Roberto’s nicknames could get ridiculous, but “Puppy” was spot on. She could basically see the tail wagging behind him.

“Yeah! Ugh, it’s been so long since we’ve seen Tes.” He sighed. “I miss her. Last time I called, she said work was super busy.”

“Yes, well. The summer rush with new interns can get stressful.”

“Oh, what does Tesla do?” Meryl asked. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Roberto shift, cracking open an eye.

Vash smiled. “She’s a doctor!”

“An oncologist, to be precise,” Knives added, a hint of pride in his voice. “She’s one of the leading researchers in her field, too.”

So the Saverem family was full of geniuses. That shouldn’t be a surprise, she supposed. She’d seen Vash’s rare math work. It was barely legible, incredibly complicated, and still yielded the correct answer every time. She grinned at Vash.

“Tesla got all the brains, huh?”

He laughed. “Something like that.”

Meryl was left to her own devices after that, with Roberto snoring beside her and the twins—well, Vash— walking around to check on everyone. Not for the first time this flight, she looked around in subdued awe at the jet. The inside was roomy and the seats were well-padded. The air was cold, but somehow didn’t dry out her skin like normal airplane air. This must have cost an arm and a leg— not literally, hopefully. She glanced at Vash, who was now excitedly talking with Livio, standing over a very flustered Wolfwood. She smirked, snapping a photo.

Who has blackmail now, Wolfwood?

As if he heard her thoughts, he shot her a nasty glare. She just grinned back.

•••

The last time the twins had seen Tesla for more than a few days was when they had graduated college. She’d taken a week off from residency and flown over to celebrate with them, her mannerisms so achingly familiar to Rem’s. That week had been, and remained, some of Vash’s favorite days ever.

Since then, she’d finished residency, Vash had opened Love and Coffee, and Nai had begun building his coffee empire. Sure, they called monthly and always checked up on each other on the anniversary of the accident, but it wasn’t the same.

“T-minus two minutes,” he whispered to Nai excitedly, bouncing in place.

“Mhm. You have the reservations for the resort on your phone, yes?”

“Yep!”

Nai hummed. “Tesla’s gift? The key to the rental car? The CDs she requested?”

“Check, check, and check! We’re so ready.” He paused. “Wait, did we add her to the group chat?”

“Ah, no, not yet.” Nai pulled out his phone, squinting his eyes at the group chat photo. “Is this a photo of Wolfwood and Stryfe covered in coffee?”

Vash grinned. “They shouldn’t have been fighting over the coffee pot!”

“…Unbelievable. Vash, you have hired clowns. Do they even contribute anything of value, or are they simply a drain on your finances?”

“Of course they contribute things of ‘value,’ Nai,” he said, frowning. “They’re my employees and they get their work done! Business is going great because of them, actually!”

Nai raised a brow. “How so?”

“All the moms love Wolfw— okay, okay, I’m kidding!” Vash yelped, batting Nai’s hand away from his earring. “Come on, lighten up. No, it’s just that Wolfwood makes a mean coffee and Meryl is adorable, so she can upsell whatever she wants. And obviously Roberto is a life saver.”

See, Vash loved his brother. He truly did! However, Nai had no idea how to disconnect from work. Vash had a feeling the conversation was approaching that topic, and he was in no mood to defend himself and his goals against his brother today. He plastered on a big, sunny smile and cut in before Nai could say anything else.

“Let’s not talk about work while we’re here, okay? Tesla’s going to kick our butts if we do.”

Nai huffed, but the threat of their older sister’s wrath was more than enough to keep him quiet. “Fine. She should be here in approximately thirty seconds.

Vash snorted. “Thirty, twenty-nine, twenty-eight, twenty-seven—“

A blur of wheat-blond hair and pastel clothing barreled into them.

“Guess whose favorite sister is here!” Tesla sang, looping an arm around each of their necks and tugging them in closer despite the ludicrous height difference. “You’ve gotten so big! Aw, my little baby brothers aren’t so little anymore!”

“We have not been ‘little’ since we were in 10th grade, Tesla,” Nai groused, tucking his face against her hair. “We have been a foot taller than you for many years, in fact.”

“Doesn’t matter! You’re still my baby brothers,” she cooed, pinching their cheeks. Vash giggled, swatting at her hand. “How’s everyone feeling? Holly jolly good, or do we need pick-me-up smoothies on the way to the resort?”

“We’re feeling pretty good right now, but I’d never say no to a smoothie…” he said, waggling his brows as he trailed off. Tesla grinned.

“Smoothies it is, then!”

Nai sighed, even as a fond smile tugged at the corner of his mouth. “You’re both children.”

Tesla rolled her eyes, hefting up her suitcase. Immediately, Vash grabbed it from her, twisting away as she tried to take it back.

“Finders keepers, Tes,” he sang, starting towards the car. “I’ll carry your stuff if you buy me a smoothie.”

Really, he would have carried her stuff anyway, and she knew it. But she liked to spoil people, and who was Vash to deny her, especially when it got him a free smoothie? Still, to keep up appearances, she rolled her eyes good naturedly, thwacking his prosthetic.

“Brat.” Then her face softened, and she sighed tiredly. “I miss Rem.”

They all said it at least once during their few weeks together. The grief had gotten old, yes, but it had never gotten easier. Some days, it still stung like a fresh wound, making it hard for Vash to stomach getting behind the wheel. He avoided it as much as he could, especially in October, but sometimes push came to shove, and all of a sudden he was a sophomore crawling out of the wreck again.

Most days, though, the grief just throbbed underneath like a cyst: it was there, but it could be overlooked. Nai nodded, sighing.

“Me too.”

Vash simply looked forward, opening the trunk of the car. He did too; she was in the car because of him, after all. Tesla must have read his mind, since she smacked the back of his neck. He yelped, rubbing at the sting.

“What the heck, Tesla?”

“It wasn’t your fault, you dummy. We’ve gone over this.” Her glare softened. “And we’ll go over it again, okay?”

“Okay.” He swallowed thickly, then nodded with a big smile. “Now let’s go get our smoothies. I want you to meet my friends!”

“Employees,” Nai corrected under his breath. Vash rolled his eyes.

“ Friends. ”

“Friends come after smoothies,” Tesla interrupted, corralling them into the car and waving to the chauffeur. She quickly typed something on her phone, handing it to them. “Hello! Would you mind taking us to Sun and Shakes?”

“Sure thing, ma’am.”

The rest of the car ride was filled with some small talk and mostly lighthearted bickering. The chauffeur did little more than huff in annoyance when they got too loud, but Vash still made sure to slap a hand over Nai’s mouth every time, much to his brother’s chagrin. It was nice to talk about something other than work and business deals again and again with Nai, some of the tension between them bleeding away in Tesla’s warm presence. And Tesla herself was still as much of a menace as he remembered, residency and work doing nothing to dull her penchant for bullying her brothers.

He swatted at her hand, which was tugging on his sunglasses for the hundredth time. “Tesla, come on! Knock it off!”

“Why are you wearing them inside the car ?” she asked again. “Do you wear them inside, too?”

“And what if I do?” he sniffed. “That’s none of your beeswax.”

“It is when you’re being—” she cut herself off as the car slowed down, frowning deeply and staring outside the window. Vash followed her gaze, Nai leaning forward wordlessly. “Is that an Eye of Michael shop?”

Oh. So it was. Vash hated when a corporate chain set up shop in a touristy place, since it would detract from local businesses. He’d nearly experienced it with Love and Coffee when an Eye of Michael shop had opened up the next town over, but it shut down soon after. There was a news article somewhere about it being involved in a cartel, but he never really paid much attention to that. Not that he could, really, with Nai always sending him half a dozen reels whenever something shady happened. It didn’t really distract him from the issues at hand, but as long as no one was getting seriously hurt, he could turn a blind eye. Nai did get an earful for the cartel incident, though.

His brother at least had the decency to look embarrassed, shrugging. “I cannot control where the franchises open, Tesla.”

Her frown deepened. “I think you can, Nai. I’m just surprised that you let one open here. Weren’t you trying to promote local shops or something?”

“Look at the marketplace around the shop. It’s bustling and successful, certainly due in part to the presence of the Eye franchise.”

“No local coffee shops though,” Vash muttered under his breath. “How odd.”

The chauffeur cleared their throat, looking supremely uncomfortable. “I’m sorry to interrupt, but I do have a strict schedule today. I need to be off by six, and the drive to the resort is around forty minutes. I’m afraid we will have to leave within the next twenty-five minutes if we hope to make it on time.”

Nai huffed, rolling his eyes and muttering something about ungrateful employees. In exchange, Vash slipped the chauffeur a twenty double dollar bill with a wink. Anything to spite his brother and apologize to their chauffeur for having to put up with them. Tesla nodded understandingly, nudging Vash and Nai out the door.

“Of course, we understand. We’ll be back in ten minutes. Is that fine?”

“Of course, yes. I didn’t mean to overstep.”

“Not at all!” Vash said cheerily. “Sorry for any inconvenience. We’ll be back in a jiffy!”

Tesla wrinkled her nose as they walked into the smoothie shop next to the franchise, elbowing him. “Turn off the customer service voice this instant. It’s creeping me out.”

“...Yes ma’am.”

•••

Sure, Meryl had seen photos of Tesla — Vash had photos of his family and staff in his office — but she definitely didn’t expect her to look like an almost carbon copy of the twins, save for the fact that her mole was under her lip instead of under her eye. She had a perfect mix of Nai’s platinum blond undertones and Vash’s bright gold hair. Her eyes leaned towards the blue of Vash’s, but her skintone was closer to Nai’s. Seeing her standing between the brothers perfectly rounded out the three of them, firmly cementing her as their sister .

Next to her, Wolfwood whistled lowly. “ Damn . They look like minimally adjusted default skins.”

“...Excuse me?” she asked, frowning. “What does that mean? ”

“I don’t know. It’s kinda scary how similar they all look,” he said, shrugging. Then he leaned down, whispering conspiratorially. “It’s also scary how all of them—except Knives, obviously—are drop dead gorgeous. What the fuck kinda magic did their genes work?”

“‘Except Knives, obviously,’” Legato mocked as he walked past them, shooting a nasty glare at Wolfwood. “Says the man who has no taste and is consistently, unendingly broke.”

Wolfwood stuck his tongue out at him.

Meryl could at least agree with Wolfwood there. Vash and, as much as Wolfwood would deny it, Knives were both the prettiest men Meryl had ever seen, and Tesla was no different even with a long, puckered scar running down her cheek under her right eye. She paused at that, narrowing her eyes.

“Do you think they’re vampires?” she blurted. Wolfwood blinked incredulously.

“Ex-fucking-scuse me?”

She began counting the reasons on her fingers, frowning thoughtfully. “They look basically the same, they move really smoothly, and all three of them are pale despite living in deserts. And we know that the twins are at least 27, but they sure as hell don’t look like it. Vash said Tesla was way older than them, so she should be at least mid-thirties, but she doesn’t look like it either!”

He considered that for a moment, squinting at them and tilting his head. “Well, them being vampires makes a tiny bit more sense than them being video game characters.”

Meryl decided to not grace that sentence with a response. Maybe Love and Coffee wasn’t a criminal front but was actually Vash’s way of staying integrated with society. It would make sense; vampires were known for being gracious hosts, after all. That train of thought was interrupted by Tesla’s delighted gasp as she shook Vash aggressively.

“You told me about those two! Ugh, hold on, I can remember this,” she exclaimed. Vash chuckled fondly, gently extricating himself from her grip.

“I’m sure you can, Tes. You get one hint.”

Meryl suddenly felt pinned under Tesla’s scrutinizing stare, feeling a tiny bit like she was being flayed alive, every part of her soul bared for the world to see. Perhaps that was another Saverem sibling trait: making people feel horrifyingly seen with just one stare. Or perhaps it was the blue, blue eyes.

And just like that, the moment was over and Tesla was smiling victoriously at Vash. “The girl is Meryl and the boy is Wolfwood.”

“I’m a man, but sure,” he muttered, nudging Meryl forward. “Come on, Shortie. Gotta say hi to the famous older sister.”

“Are you so scared about messing up with your future sister-in-law that you’re making me go first?” she teased, grinning at the way his stride faltered. He was too easy.

“Shut the fuck —”

“Meryl, Wolfwood!” Vash called, smiling brightly. “Come here! I want to officially introduce you guys, even if she guessed you two right.”

Wolfwood threw up a prayer under his breath and plastered on a charming smile, Meryl following suit. Tesla looked positively delighted to be meeting her little brother’s friends, shaking their hands enthusiastically. There was a particular teasing warmth while she talked to Wolfwood. Meryl couldn’t help but think that it was so easy to see the imprints of people on Vash: he shared Tesla’s friendliness and enthusiasm; he was cunning in the same way Roberto was; he could wear Knives’s icy expressions better than him; he’d picked up Meryl and Wolfwood’s argumentative tendencies, holding his own in debates against the both of them. It was fascinating to see the workings of humanity played out so clearly in front of her, and it made her hope even more that Vash really was just a vampire and not a criminal.

She straightened up when Tesla turned to her, holding out a hand. “It’s great to finally meet you, Tesla. Vash has told us a lot about you.”

Tesla laughed, the sound loud and bell-like, and took her hand. Another thing Vash picked up from her, then. “Only good things, I hope. He knows better than to shit-talk his big sister.”

“Only good things,” Meryl assured her, chuckling. Vash smiled sheepishly, nodding. “I’d have to beat him up otherwise, don’t you think?”

“Oh, Vash, I like this one!” Tesla gasped. “Keep her around, will you? You need someone to humble you.”

“Tes!” he whined. “ Nai’s the one who needs humbling, not me! I’m so humble!”

Tesla waved him off, winking conspiratorially at Meryl. “Sure, baby brother.”

Vash huffed, and it was quite funny watching him melt into the younger sibling persona. Sure, he could be a bit whiny at times, but he usually kept his wants and genuine grievances close to his chest. Watching him pout and complain so freely was as entertaining as it was relieving, knowing that he got annoyed like a normal person would. Meryl glanced at Wolfwood, immediately rolling her eyes at his bemused but adoring expression. That was an issue to deal with later.

“Ugh, whatever, Tesla!” Vash finally exclaimed, lightly smacking his sister. “Let’s go meet the others.”

Knives cleared his throat. “I’ll introduce you to my employees first, before Vash’s chosen hooligans begin their tomfoolery.”

Tesla shrugged, frowning slightly at him. “I mean, sure, but don’t insult people like that. Especially not to their faces.”

“Oh, it’s really no problem, Tesla,” Wolfwood said, overly casual. “Numerous Cutleries over here just adores all of us, doesn’t he? It’s all in good fun, I’m sure.”

The glares Knives gave him was lethal. Even Meryl shuddered at the heat of it, but Wolfwood just grinned antagonistically. Tesla snorted, shaking her head.

“Sure thing, Wolfwood.” She turned to her brothers. “Let’s meet the rest of them, though, so that I can go take a nap before dinner.”

“Yeah, of course!” Vash said, grabbing her hand. “We’ll make it quick. Bye, you two! We’ll see you guys at dinner, okay? Meet Nai and I in the central courtyard at seven, yeah?”

“Okay!” she said. Wolfwood nodded in assent.

With another wave and a brilliant smile, the three of them were off. Next to her, Wolfwood sighed heavily, chewing on a toothpick thoughtfully.

“Does Tesla like me?” he asked, a touch too nervous to properly play it off coolly. Meryl rolled her eyes.

“ Yes , Wolfwood. She does. Did you see how she immediately started making jokes about Vash and Nai to you? You don’t do that unless you like someone.”

Wolfwood frowned. “But what if—”

“Oh my god, you’re insufferable.”

“Well damn, Missy. Don’t have to be so mean about it.”

•••

Dinner was supposed to be fine. Really, it was! They’d discussed seating on the airplane, with Vash even agreeing to sit in between Wolfwood and Knives’s employees rather than with his sister. So then, one would expect that dinner would be fine. Unfortunately, the universe was a cosmic prankster.

“What the fuck is Zazie doing here?” Wolfwood asked, completely bewildered. Meryl blinked, squinting at the mass of people in the center of the courtyard. “Zazie fucking Adder?”

“Eh?” Roberto grunted. “Were they not supposed to be here?”

“No! What the fuck do you think Knives is? A goddamn masochist?” Wolfwood scoffed. “He ain’t the one who invited Zazie, and I know Vash sure as hell wouldn’t have invited them without telling someone.”

Roberto pulled a face, looking like he was going to say something, but, as if on cue, Vash waved them over, smiling helplessly. Meryl sighed, jogging over as best as she could in heels. Next to him, Knives was radiating an icy chill, completely cancelling out the warm resort weather.

“So, uh, slight surprise,” Vash began, tittering nervously. “Zazie’s here! I’m not sure how, but, well! Ahaha!”

Knives glared coldly at them in turn, finally narrowing his eyes at Roberto. “Well, Mr. De Niro? Say what you will.”

Roberto shrugged. “I saw ‘em in the cockpit while boarding. I thought they were our pilot, honestly.”

“...Pray tell, why would I hire Zazie to fly our plane?” Knives gritted out, eye twitching. Roberto shrugged again. Knives looked like he was about to pop a vein, and if Meryl wasn’t terrified for Roberto’s life, she’d find it pretty funny. “Are you daft?”

“None of your bodyguards caught them?” Wolfwood asked, sounding slightly amazed. “Goddamn.”

“I’m a sneaky rascal,” Zazie cut in, popping up between Vash and Knives. Vash yelped, jumping away. “Hiya, Punisher!”

“Beast,” he sighed. “Why are you here?”

Zazie waggled their eyebrows, then immediately danced out of his reach, cackling as he muttered something under his breath. “You know why, Punisher! I even brought popcorn!”

“ Daivame, enikku shakthi tharoo . ” [1] Wolfwood stepped back in line with Meryl, glaring at Zazie. “You goddamn freak.”

Zazie snorted, shrugging carelessly. “You two are basically a reality show.”

“Who?” Vash asked, tilting his head. Wolfwood barely bit back a flinch.

“No one, Blondie. Let’s just get to the dinner place.”

“It’s called a restaurant,” Knives muttered, spinning on his heels. “Vash, you’ve hired morons. Come along.”

Vash sighed, smiling apologetically at them. It was a painful looking expression, so tired and hollow. Meryl frowned back.

“Don’t even bother apologizing,” she said. “Your brother is the asshole, not you.”

“Cut him some slack, Meryl,” Vash said half-heartedly, then shook his head. “Regardless, you all look great!”

Meryl beamed. They did look great. Vash had told them that it was a semiformal restaurant, so they’d all cleaned up. Meryl decided on one of her favorite outfits from when she was interning at Bernardelli: a white pencil skirt with dark blue tights, a full-sleeve white blouse with a bow on the chest, and a capelet. Roberto had raised a brow at her choice, but he wasn’t much better. Roberto was basically wearing the same thing he wore every day, except he’d just buttoned up his shirt and put on a better fitting blazer and dress shoes. He’d shut up real quick after she pointed that out.

Wolfwood, true to his character, managed to get away with leaving his grey dress shirt half-buttoned. Tonight, however, he filled the open space with a few gold necklaces, and he bothered to tuck in his shirt. And he actually used what must be his nice cologne, rather than cigarette stink and drugstore cologne. He wore a few rings too, one of them with a strange little circle-and-lines motif. Meryl squinted at it.

“Is that an… an Eye of Michael branded ring?” she asked.

Wolfwood grimaced. “It was a free onboarding ‘gift’ from Mr. Stick Up His Ass. And it looks good with the rest of my jewelry, sadly.”

“There ain’t much of a spine on you, son,” Roberto chuckled.

“Fuck off, old man. At least I know how to dress up,” he said, pointedly looking him up and down. “Do you just own a fuck ton amount of copies of the same three items?”

“Yes.”

Oh. Well, that was a revelation. Still, Meryl wasn’t in the business of judging her mentor. She was, however, in the business of judging her coworkers. She turned to Wolfwood, grinning sharply.

“The only reason you dressed up is for your boss.”

He sputtered, swatting at her. “Shut the fuck up! What the hell are you talking about?!”

She rolled her eyes. “Look at him and tell me you don’t… actually, that’s not professional of me to say. Still, though!”

To be fair, Vash had cleaned up nicely. He had on a red silk button up tucked into well-fitting pants and a long dark red coat thrown over his shoulders. Sure, it was a lot of red, but it suited him— the red made his eyes pop and brought out the perpetual blush on his nose. The most drastic change was his hair, though. He’d slicked it back, putting the dark hairs of his undercut right in contrast with the bright blond of his hair, a few strands falling and framing his face gracefully. It made him look older, more mature, and did wonders for his facial structure.

More importantly, though, Meryl knew it would fluster Wolfwood tremendously. Glancing at him, her suspicions were confirmed, and she shared an amused look with Roberto.

“Breaking news to no one,” Roberto began dramatically, putting on his news anchor voice, “but Nicholas D. Wolfwood is once again staring at a certain Saverem rather lewdly. Stay tuned to find out whether he mans up and finally asks him out, or if we’ll continue to be subjected to his yearning.”

“Alrighty, Drunkle, square the fuck up—” he growled, stalking towards Roberto.

“Now, now, son. No need to beat up an old man,” he chuckled, holding his hands up. “Besides, Puppy’s staring at you with those big sad eyes.”

Sure enough, Vash was throwing his lethal puppy eyes at Wolfwood, silently begging him to back down. Meryl watched amusedly as he stiffened and his shoulders slumped, visibly deflating. Sure, they were all weak to that look, but it was particularly effective on Wolfwood.

“Stop lookin’ at me like that, Spikes,” he snapped, pulling on his perpetually present sunglasses. At night. “Un-fucking-believable.”

Getting to the restaurant did not make it any better whatsoever. In fact, the poor hostess looked like she was about to have a conniption as she watched Wolfwood and Zazie enter while bickering. Knives looked like he was about to have an aneurysm as he watched everyone shuffle around awkwardly. Vash and Tesla, however, looked perfectly entertained and whispered between themselves. Meryl started making her way towards them before Knives snapped his fingers twice. Everyone came to a messy stop, staring at him like deers in headlights.

“For the sake of propriety and not causing a scene —” he glared at Wolfwood, who rolled his eyes, “—we will be sitting in a designated order.”

Everyone groaned, but he carried on with a little huff. He pointed at one of the seats. “I will sit over there and, from there and to the right: Tesla, Legato, Zazie, Elendira, Wolfwood, Livio, Meryl, Roberto, and Vash.”

True to form, not a single person genuinely listened to him. Sure, Legato and Zazie had ended up where he’d told them to sit without much complaining, but everyone else was a different story. Tesla had narrowed her eyes at Knives, shooting him a glare that Meryl was sure was reserved only for her little brothers. Even the way she stalked towards him was borderline predatory, like she was getting ready to slap him; instead, she tugged him down by the ear and whispered something that made him scowl. Tesla stepped back, grinning smugly, and took her seat.

Vash ushered Meryl and Roberto to the table, smiling apologetically at the waitress, who looked like she’d accepted her fate at that point. They’d have to make sure to tip well, then. With Vash bustling around the table, Meryl didn’t pay much attention to where she’d sat. Until she realized she was right next to Zazie, that is. It wasn’t like she disliked Zazie—they were definitely one of the more tolerable people on the Eye of Michael admin team—, but their buggy little hair clips gave her the creeps. The gold dragonflies and iridescent beetles looked just a little too real. She bit back a gag, turning to stare across the table at Elendira instead. She didn’t look particularly thrilled to be sitting in between Vash and Wolfwood either, the two of them coming to a shared, miserable understanding.

This dinner would suck.

At least Knives looked like he was about to burst a blood vessel as he clinked his knife against his wine glass. Once the conversation came to a messy stop, he cleared his throat.

“October is an important month to my siblings and I,” he began. Meryl blinked as both Vash and Tesla’s expressions went soft and somber. Both of them seemed like emotive people, but that was not the emotion she was expecting to see.

“Typically, this is a siblings-only affair. However, with the administration overhaul and my brother finally hiring people to work at his shop—” his lip curled distastefully, “—they managed to talk me into inviting you all on this trip. So while none of you need to know the true purpose of this trip, you do need to enjoy it considering it was all paid for.”

Next to Elendira, Wolfwood smirked and leaned over to Livio, whispering something in his ear. Knives spared a moment to glare at him, as per usual. Not per usual, though, was how he simply rolled his eyes and said nothing to them. His eyes flicked to his siblings, who both raised their own wine glasses.

Meryl blinked. What kind of weird vampiric ritual was this?

Knives cleared his throat again, not bothering to quiet down the chattering this time. “To us and another year.”

Tesla just nodded, clinking her glass against his. Vash was blinking furiously, a painfully watery smile on his lips as he tapped his glass to theirs.

“Another year!”

Knives pulled away slightly. “And to me, for getting us this reservation. Again.”

Meryl rolled her eyes. He really had a way of ruining tender moments, huh? Still, even his usual bravado wasn’t able to distract her from the fact that all of them had sounded, for the first time since she’d met them, inexorably exhausted. It was the sort of deep seated tiredness that came from grief playing out over and over again; it was the sort of sadness that came from time-healed wounds.

So, Meryl thought, there were two logical conclusions: this was an anniversary celebration for something painful or, equally likely, some weird ode to times long gone. Maybe since the twins went vegan, this was how they celebrated giving up blood or something.

With the introductory ceremony out of the way, the increasingly harrowed-looking waitress came by with the first of—and Meryl couldn’t believe it either—seven courses. It was some fancy dish that probably cost more than her entire month’s salary and had a name she wouldn’t bother trying to pronounce, but she’d be damned if it wasn’t good. The conversation had taken on a reasonable level now, with everyone breaking off into their little groups, save for the Saverem siblings. Those three were being looped into constant conversation elsewhere: either it was Legato asking Tesla about her favorite appetizer, or it was Zazie mouthing something to Vash and getting a devious smile back, or it was Livio trying to mediate a budding argument between Knives and Wolfwood.

None of them seemed particularly bothered, at least. That should’ve been the first warning sign, though. After another round of mouthing-and-smiling between Zazie and Vash, they turned to her .

“So, Ms. Stryfe,” Zazie began, tone too casual to be anything but off-putting. “Heard you were a bit of a journalist.”

She frowned. “A fully qualified one—”

Roberto cleared his throat, earning himself a jab in the side.

“—but sure. I’m a bit of a journalist.”

“Say, I’ve got a story for ya,” they said, leaning back in their chair with their arms crossed behind their head. “PR staff and all. You gotta come over, though.”

This was, by far, the strangest way Meryl had ever been asked out. “Excuse me?”

“Oh, what? Not like that!” they laughed. “No, I just think a piece about the salaries in the Mike would be good. Regardless of how you decide to twist it.”

Well. It was an offer, and Meryl was nothing if not a career woman. 

“Sure.” She paused, blinking. “Mike?”

Zazie grinned, all teeth and threatening auras. “Great! I’ll be in touch, of course.”

“Okay, but Mike? ”

“Michael,” Wolfwood supplied helpfully. He was, however, in the process of shoving a piece of brown bread in his mouth, so it sounded more like “my-uhl.”

Meryl pinched the bridge of her nose. “Michael. Sure. Eye of Mike.”

“Eye of Mike!” Zazie cheered, holding a hand up for a high-five. Meryl begrudgingly obliged, grimacing at Vash. There was not a shred of sympathy in his gaze, however; just a whole lot of amusement.

“The Eye ,” Knives insisted. How he heard them over the din, she didn’t know. She didn’t care, either, when the sheer desperation to have even one of his pleas listened to rendered his voice hilariously whiny. “Truly, it is so much easier.”

“Meye of Ike,” Wolfwood muttered, shoulders shaking with fucking giggles as Knives turned the full force of his glare on him. Vash, true to form, looked completely enamoured.

Meryl rolled her eyes, exchanging looks with Elendira and Tesla. Both of them had noticed too, of course, considering the two of them were about as subtle as a rave on a weeknight. But that was neither here nor there, since now everyone was listing their creative euphemisms for the Eye of Michael Brews, making Knives look increasingly despondent.

“Eyeball,” Elendira suggested, picking at her nails boredly. “The Angel’s Eyeball, if I can be bothered.”

“Well, at least you’ve got part—” Knives began, only to be cut off immediately.

“Ike and Microphone are two of my longtime favorites,” Wolfwood announced, leaning backwards to catch Vash’s eye. “My theology minor dictates that I call it Ophanim, though.”

“Be Not Afraid,” Livio added around a mouthful of whatever course they were on now. “Rejoice, for Jesus Hath Returned.”

“Bruce is a good one too,” Tesla suggested, grinning as Knives whirled on her. “Real evocative.”

“And Coffee’s perfect in any circumstance,” Vash chirped, giving Zazie’s outstretched hand a satisfying smack.

Knives looked genuinely ready to burst a blood vessel. “I will cancel all reservations and make every single one of you fly coach back. Are we clear?”

The laughter petered off, replaced by a vague aura of horror and awkwardness. He huffed, sitting back in his chair. In the silence, Elendira reached across the table to pass Meryl her phone, open to the notes app.

The text was simple, if bold: we’re betting on vash and wolfwood accidentally making this awkward. how much are you putting in?

Roberto leaned over, squinting at the screen, then sighed. Wordlessly, he handed Elendira a crisp penny.

“I’m not betting more when I know I’m going to lose, newbie,” he said at her confused look, shrugging. “Basic betting rules.”

Okay. Basic betting rules. She handed Elendira a crisp one double dollar. The woman smiled, tucking the money into her coat. Slowly, she pushed her seat back just far enough that Vash and Wolfwood could make eye contact easily, but not so far that it would arouse suspicion. Meryl narrowed her eyes; this felt like rigging the odds, but who was she to say?

Within minutes, they immediately lost the bet. Vash had asked Wolfwood to pass the salt shaker, which, to be fair, he did. The issue was with the fact he stared for a moment, stuttered and called him ‘sir,’ and nearly chucked the shaker into Vash’s eye. Maybe those dumb orange sunglasses he wore did serve a purpose: protection.

Elendira slid her phone across the table again: midvalley gets the money btw >:/ he said they wouldn’t last 5 min given the chance,, and I bet 10

Meryl grimaced. Ten minutes really was a generous estimate of how long they’d last without being complete disasters, and the despondency on Elendira’s face echoed as much. Roberto tutted sympathetically, shaking his head.

“Believe what you see, don’t see what you believe,” he muttered, words barely discernible with how much he was slurring his words. Maybe Meryl should ask for Knives to cut him off, lest they all deal with an extra hungover Roberto in the morning.

“Wise words, for a drunkard,” Elendira said, raising a brow.

Roberto shrugged. “What can I say? I’m a wise ass man. Too long for this world, too.”

“Right.”

Their side of the table — save for Vash, Wolfwood, and Livio — fell into a relatively comfortable silence again, the quiet clink of cutlery backdropping their voices. Meryl tried to remember the last time she’d taken time to just enjoy a nice evening without the pretense of a meet-and-greet or a case dinner or something equally loadbearing. Here, for once, she actually got to eat her dinner without worrying too much about first impressions.

Granted, she wanted to make a good impression on Tesla. She couldn’t care less about the vampire twins right now.

And like clockwork, as soon as Knives realized that all eyes were not, in fact, on him, he decided to stand up at the head of the table.

“I hope you’re all good with guns,” he said purposefully, eyeing the table.

Zazie whistled, leaning back dangerously far in their chair. “Guess we’re recreating The Hunger Games .”

“No, we are not,” Knives snapped, patience already worn thin by the constant chattering. “We’re going to play paintball.”

Wolfwood’s brows raised. “You, Knives? You want to play paintball? I’d’ve thought you’d get all upset about your clothes getting fucked up.”

Knives huffed petulantly, and Tesla suddenly seemed decades older. She stared at him in disbelief. “Grow up.”

“I am grown up, sister. Grown up enough to know that I have to explicitly tell Wolfwood that I have a separate set of clothing. ”

Wolfwood grinned, turning to Livio. “See? Eluppamaanu . ” [2]

“Excuse—“

Vash cut in, his eyes alight with mischief and an almost devious smile on his lips. “Is that place still open?”

At that, Knives smiled just as sharply. “Indeed it is, brother.”

“You’re going down, Nai.”

“Hah, as if,” Tesla snorted, giving them both a haughty look. “I’m gonna kick both of your squirt asses. Just like every time before this.”

Vash groaned. “You both keep ganging up on me!”

“Because your brother here,” she nodded at Knives, who was now frowning, “is utterly hopeless with a gun. You can handle yourself, at least.”

Meryl raised a brow. She was beginning to suspect that the entire Saverem family had mafia connections, because Vash with a gun? Now that would certainly be a sight to see. 

Wolfwood must have thought the same, because he was staring intently at anywhere but Vash. Maybe he wasn’t the only utterly hopeless one here.

Legato cleared his throat. “As you were saying, Mr. Saverem?”

“Right, yes. We will be playing paintball around midnight. Dress appropriately—dark colors and easily washable fabrics are recommended—and meet us where you met us tonight at eleven-thirty PM sharp.”

“It’s fun!” Vash chirped cheerily. “It’s a bit of a different style, too, so it’ll be new for you guys.”

That sounded like bad news. Meryl found that she didn’t trust anything that the twins agreed on as being ‘fun.’ Especially not something involving guns. But her mentor was nearly passed out drunk next to her, and the only other people she knew well here looked positively ecstatic so… that was that. Midnight gun-related activities— she just hoped she wouldn’t go to jail, at this rate.

Chapter Text

This wasn’t the latest Wolfwood had stayed up, considering the amount of Meye of Ike sponsored coffee in his cupboards, but this certainly was the latest he’d made plans in a few years. After college and once he became a perpetually on call mortician, he just couldn’t be bothered to go bar hopping anymore. He had kids to visit on Saturday and Sunday; bodies to prep any hour of the day, any day of the week; and now two other jobs that demanded his full attention. If he was going to get blackout drunk, it was going to be in someone’s house. Preferably his own, but Vash’s wouldn’t be—

He shook his head, pulling a dark grey shirt on. The image of Vash with a gun wouldn’t leave his mind, and the timing of this stupid little event wasn’t helping. But he did have a mysterious paintball tournament to win, which meant that his feelings of hopeless romanticism would have to wait. He couldn’t let his baby brother down like that.

Said baby brother was being a complete bastard, though. He was spread eagle on his bed, kicking his feet lazily. “I think we should be on a team, Nico.”

“And make me miss my chance to nail you in the face without getting yelled at by Miss Mel?” he snorted, securing his cross necklace under his shirt. Couldn’t have it getting dirty, after all. “Hell no. You’re going down , crybaby.”

That being said, he’d also riot if they weren’t on the same team against Knives, so hopefully, friendly fire was allowed.

He could hear the challenging smile in Livio’s voice as he said, “We’ll see about that.”

And that was a promise. If there was one thing either of them were good for, it was keeping promises; Wolfwood couldn’t wait to make him eat his words.

“We sure will.”

Another few minutes later, Wolfwood was wandering around the central plaza, chewing on a lollipop stick. He’d unfortunately crunched through the candy before he got the nicotine shakes out, but the stick would have to suffice. He heard, more than saw, Meryl jog up to him, huffing and slightly red faced.

“Where— where do we go now?” she asked, hands on her hips. “Jeez, I haven’t ran like that in ages.”

“Hope you’re not on my team then, Li’l Lady,” he grumbled, flinching as her oddly heavy boot made contact with his shin. “Ow! Okay, motherfucker, I get it! Jesus Christ on a cracker. I don’t know where we go, goddamn!”

Roberto came up behind them, rolling his eyes with an annoyed sigh. “If either of you bothered to read the damn text, you’d know that Tesla’s gonna take us to the place, since the brothers two have to go work their magic. Or some other bullshit like that.”

“What magic could they have to work?” Meryl wondered, and Roberto suddenly looked about a decade and a half older. “Maybe they really are…”

“Newbie. They hired out an indoor paintball place at goddamn midnight. Their magic is not vampire magic, it’s a damn apology to the poor workers and a good fucking tip.”

Livio blinked, exchanging a confused glance with Wolfwood. “Vampire magic?”

Meryl leaned in — well, leaned up on her tiptoes —, eyes narrowed and suspicious. “The Saverem twins might be vampires.”

Roberto sighed heavily, pinching the bridge of his nose. Livio patted his back sympathetically but still stared at Meryl like she was going insane.

“Excuse me?” he asked

“Look, Livio, I know you didn’t see Vash’s photos from college and high school, but—”

“How did you see them, you creep?” Wolfwood taunted, grinning around the lollipop stick. He knew, of course, but riling Meryl up was always a treat.

“I had to get something from Knives’s attic! Anyway, they look almost exactly like they did in high school . They’re at least mid to late twenties, if not early thirties, so don’t you think it’s weird that they look like they haven’t aged a second?” she argued, waving her arms. “Oh, and! They’re pale, tall, and a little intimidating. Vash has some secret stash of money because his business model is horrible, and you know who else looks eternally young and has a lot of money? Vampires .”

“I think I liked the money laundering theory we had running more than this,” Roberto grumbled.

Wolfwood scoffed. “And I think I liked the video game character theory more than this.”

Meryl gave them both a harsh glare, mouthing something like ‘shut up before I castrate you.’ Wolfwood chose to believe that it was an admission that the video game character theory was correct. Livio was looking more and more concerned by the second, gaze bouncing between the three of them.

“ What? ” he asked, a desperate note to his voice. “Money laundering? Vampires? Video game characters? ”

Wolfwood pointed at Roberto, Meryl, and himself in turn. “Theorists one, two, and three. Because, as Shortie said, there’s no way in hell that they’re human and still look that good. And there’s definitely no explanation for why Vash’s shop is still afloat without it being either plot armour, illegal activities, or centuries to accumulate wealth. Or for why Knives is so fuck off rich.”

Livio’s shoulders slumped defeatedly, and he shook his head, silvery hair glinting under the moonlight. “Okay. Sure, why not.”

“Attaboy,” Wolfwood said, grinning and shoving his brother lightly. “Come up with your own explanation if ours aren’t satisfying enough.”

Livio sighed, dragging a hand down his face. In another world, Wolfwood would feel bad about putting his baby brother through a mental hell like that, but it was absolutely hilarious. He was just playing devil’s advocate; vampires made more sense than video game characters after all.

A shrill whistle cut through the night. Wolfwood glanced behind Livio, nodding as Tesla motioned for them to join her in the center of the courtyard. Legato, Zazie, and Elendira were already there. The latter two at least behaved like normal, well-adjusted people, even if Wolfwood knew them to be anything but; Legato was basically glued to Tesla’s side while still maintaining a respectful distance.

Livio bumped against him. “You look uglier than normal, Nick.”

“Fuck off, nee urumbu , ” [1] he snapped, twisting his ear.

“You’ve got that ‘I hate you’ look on your face again!” Livio laughed, shoving him away. “What’s got you all pissed off already?”

“Legato fucking Bluesummers,” he grumbled, nodding at the man. “What a goddamn suck up. Tesla isn’t even looking at him, but he’s still hovering around her like a damn mosquito.”

Livio whistled lowly. “Yeesh. Sounds like someone’s jealous about not being the first to impress his future sister-in-law.”

“Wha— Mindathirikku! Ninakkenthaa pattiyathu?! ” [2]

Livio had the nerve to snicker, smirking at him. Wolfwood was getting really sick of his brother’s attitude, so he decided to jog ahead, offering Tesla a nod as she waved enthusiastically.

“Are all of you ready?” she asked, rocking back and forth on her feet. It was a motion he’d seen Vash do when he was excited, and it was even more endearing. “We usually play with strangers, but we actually have enough people to be able to rent out the room ourselves!”

What wasn’t endearing was how all three of them were so casual about spending money like this. It always threw Wolfwood off, even if he and the orphanage weren’t doing quite as badly anymore. Tesla and Knives talked about renting out entire buildings and jets like it was an annual thing, and while Vash was more conscientious, even he occasionally let slip how much he’d donate to a cause he cared for or what he got his brother for their birthday. It was baffling seeing how they didn’t even recognize what they were saying, while sometimes it was all Wolfwood could focus on.

“What are we even doing, anyway?” Meryl asked, ever curious. Tesla grinned.

“Glow in the dark paintball!” she announced, once again unaware of the absolute bullshit she was spouting. “It’s indoors, unfortunately, but it’s so fun.”

Roberto hummed. “Black lights and all?”

“Oh yeah. It looks like the Bad Lads all exploded in there by the end of a match. Great stuff.”

That was a mental image Wolfwood never wanted to imagine again. The Bad Lads weren’t a great band, but… yikes. Knives and Tesla both had a way of conjuring the most grotesque imagery, honestly.

“Ah, so we’ll get to see the tattoos,” Roberto mused, nodding as if that made all the sense in the world. “Don’t reckon you got them too?”

“The twins convinced me,” Tesla sighed in the way that exhausted older siblings did. The fondness in her voice betrayed her, though. “Can’t say I regret it, but it was definitely one of the choices I’ve made.”

Livio tilted his head. “Tattoos? They have tattoos?”

“Tattoos,” Roberto confirmed, incredibly calm for the absolute insane information he was giving them. Only the amused twitch of his mustache implied that he was hiding something, the drunk bastard. “You’ll see.”

Well then. That boded. He glanced at Tesla to glean any bit of information, but she was smiling just as secretively.

Fine then. He supposed he’d have to be stuck with the mental image of Vash with tattoos until proven otherwise. He’d already begun to suspect that Vash was hiding one hell of a sleeper build, and tattoos weren’t the worst addition. In fact…

Devastatingly, he made eye contact with Legato and immediately recognized that look. Okay, that was enough of that; if they were having the same line of thought then Wolfwood was doing something wrong. He shook his head to clear it, ignoring Meryl looking at him strangely. He still had a paintball match to win, glow in the dark or not.

•••

Knives really was one of those “go big or go home” bastards, because the sheer size of the room was enough to put Wolfwood’s humble apartment to shame. Distantly, he wondered how much the rental and deposit must have cost; presently, he was busy helping Livio tighten the straps on his vest. Vash and Knives were running over the rules and protocols— standard stuff like don’t get into physical altercations, don’t destroy property, be yourself and have fun, yadda yadda. Wolfwood had taken the kids to play paintball once, and this really couldn’t be that different. He’d just have to be extra careful not to trip over Meryl and Zazie, since the lights would be off. Other than that, he was golden.

“Okay! Now teams!” Vash said, clasping his hands excitedly. Wolfwood perked up, already mentally divvying up everyone despite the fact that he’d get approximately no say in it. “I’m thinking we do it by who works for who?”

Knives hummed consideringly, then nodded. “Yes. Legato, Elendira, Zazie, Livio, and Wolfwood with me. Your, ah, employees and Tesla with you.”

Meryl frowned. “That’s uneven.”

“It’ll be fine!” Vash said, grinning. His smile was a dangerous thing, entirely full of promise and teeth. Vash had something up his sleeve, and no one but he and his siblings were privy to it. Wolfwood swallowed. “Just trust me?”

“Sure, kid, but…” Roberto started, narrowing his eyes at Wolfwood. “Don’t’cha think that your coffee grinder should be on your team?”

The room was silent for a moment. Wolfwood blinked, frowning.

“Wait, but I don’t even grind the damn coffee?” That was Vash’s job, actually.

With that, Livio burst out laughing. He physically doubled over, clutching his stomach and leaning on Wolfwood for support. He stumbled, trying to steady them both, and smacked Livio on the back of the head.

“The hell’s the matter with you anyway?” he asked.

It was more than a few moments before Livio managed to gather himself enough to respond, face red and tears gathering on his lash line. Wolfwood stared at him pointedly, spreading his hands as if to say ‘what the hell?’

“Y-You grind— you grind his—” he began before immediately dissolving into laughter again. By that point, Zazie, Tesla, Elendira, and Meryl had all caught onto whatever dumb ass joke Roberto made. The man in question was just smirking, arms crossed as he leaned casually against the wall.

“ Parayoo, mandan! ” [3] Wolfwood snapped, shaking Livio by the shoulders.

“You gr-grind Vash’s coffee beans ,” Livio finally managed to wheeze out, making Tesla finally burst out laughing. “ Ayyo, Nico. Nee ethra viddiyaanu. ” [4]

He ground—? Oh. He felt his face heat up, and he wheeled on the old drunkle. Roberto had the audacity to meet his gaze smugly, shrugging as if he hadn’t just completely violated Vash and Wolfwood’s dignity.

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw the twins come to the same understanding. Vash was standing stockstill — the unoccupied portion of his mind suggested that he looked like an NPC; Wolfwood immediately quashed that —, face a pretty red and eyes wide. He’d switched out his silly orange glasses for a pretty purple, making the shine of his blue eyes that much brighter. Still, he had no right to look so flustered when he’d done far, far worse things to Wolfwood’s heart.

Knives, on the other hand, was a very ugly red and shaking minutely. He looked about ready to lash out at Roberto, and if it wasn’t for Vash and Tesla both grabbing his arms, he probably would have. Roberto looked completely calm, just shrugging as Vash glanced helplessly at him.

“How dare you say that about my brother?” Knives seethed, trying to shrug his siblings off. They didn’t budge, thankfully. Wolfwood really didn’t feel like peeling Roberto off the pavement if Knives got his hands on him. “He is your employer and far, far above being around the likes of you. Show him some respect , you—”

“Okay, Nai!” Vash laughed nervously, pulling his brother into a deceptively strong bear hug. “I think that’s enough! It’s just a joke! I’m the one who grinds the beans anyway— oh god.”

He cut himself off immediately, but the damage was done. Wolfwood felt like his brain was about to melt out of his ears, and the others were in for another round of cackling and gasping for breath. He wouldn’t complain if Vash wanted to, ah, grind his—

“Vash!” Knives shrieked, staring wide-eyed at his brother. “How could you?! Have some respect for yourself!”

“I didn’t mean to!” Vash insisted, looking around frantically. “I swear! Oh my god, Wolfwood, I’m so sorry!”

“Uh, um. N-No biggie, Spikes.” God, he sounded like a teenager around their first crush. How pathetic. Wolfwood had slept with people before, he knew how to be suave! This was just embarrassing. “You, ah, might want to look out for your brother, though. Guy looks like he’s about to have a goddamn aneurysm.”

Next to Elendira, Zazie sobered up scarily fast, pinning Knives with a fiery glare. “Why are you homophobic?”

This time, it was Knives who was knocked into stunned silence, rotating slowly in Vash’s arms to meet their gaze. Zazie didn’t back down whatsoever. In fact, they just doubled down.

“ Homophobe .”

Knives spluttered. “I— what— no! The Eye of Michael is an explicitly pro-queer, equal opportunity organization, as am I! Look at my siblings and my employees.”

Wolfwood really didn’t like the fact that Knives looked at him before glancing at Elendira. Vash blinked, while Tesla frowned deeply and cuffed him behind the head.

“Can you imagine what kind of lowlife I would have to be to be queerphobic,” Knives complained, shaking his head. “Oh, the publicity would be atrocious. And I would be like the morons at Starbucks.”

Despite his insistence, Zazie sighed dramatically, crossing their arms and staring imploringly at him. “No, genuinely— how are you homophobic. And dating a man?”

Well, that was news. For everyone, it seemed, considering how fast Vash and Tesla whipped around to stare at a shell shocked Knives. Legato, too, was staring at him, but his face was twisted to be extra ugly. Jealousy wasn’t a good look on him, but it definitely amused Wolfwood. Tesla was the first to recover, wrenching him out of Vash’s arms and shaking him roughly.

“You didn’t tell us, you stupid squirt?!” she yelled. Knives yelped, scrambling to get her hands off of him.

“B-Because! Because I don’t have a boyfriend!” He said. “Really, Tesla! How much time do you think I have?! Love is the least of my priorities.”

Somehow, Legato managed to look both relieved and devastated. His borderline fanatical adoration of Knives was incredibly annoying most of the time, but Wolfwood couldn’t help but feel bad for him. So much time and devotion, and this was the best he was going to get. Shame!

“Oh yeah?” Zazie challenged, ever the agent of chaos. “The entire office has bets on you two! Don’t act like we can’t see the eye contact and the ‘private conferences’ and the lunch breaks together—”

“And the midday coffee breaks and how you only ever invite this one specific man to come to company events as your plus one,” Elendira added, picking at her nails.

It clicked for Wolfwood then, and he bit back a snicker, nudging Livio. He was smirking too, shrugging as he nodded at Legato. That guy, for one, looked completely miserable and horribly disappointed. He looked about ready to fall to his knees and wail to the heavens for the injustice he was experiencing. If only he knew.

It was Vash’s turn to interrogate Knives, and his voice was just a tad bit too low to make out what he was saying. Whatever it was must have been good, though, considering how Knives’ face was steadily reddening, and he looked more and more pissed off.

Finally, Knives turned back to Zazie, glaring. “And, pray tell, who exactly this man is?”

Zazie levelled him with the most unimpressed look they could muster, arms crossed and everything, and said: “Legato Bluesummers. Duh.”

For the second time in too short of a time, the room fell dead silent. Sure, Legato looked positively elated, a stark contrast to the pathetic image he created not even a second ago, but Vash looked less than thrilled. Wolfwood sympathized; if Knives and Legato really were together, they would be the most insufferable, idiotic pairing. Though, he considered, if they took each other off the market, maybe it was for the better.

“...He is simply my secretary,” Knives finally said after a long, long moment. He was suspiciously avoiding looking at Legato while flushed like a tomato. “Nothing more.”

That did nothing to dampen Legato’s spirits, but it did manage to draw a groan from all of the Eye of Michael employees. Wolfwood didn’t give a damn about office drama, and even he could see that those two were two minutes from sleeping together. Knives was just a stupid, stupid man.

The room fell to awkward silence again, broken only by the occasional clearing of a throat or the tightening of an armour piece. Eventually, Meryl spoke.

“So, Vash.”

He hummed, looking up from examining the paintball gun.

“Do you have a Grindr?”

Vash froze, eyes wide and jaw nearly on the floor. Wolfwood had to admit: he was also interested in the answer. For no reason other than simple curiosity, of course.

“Wh-What?” he squeaked, the tips of his ears a brilliant red.

Meryl gave him an innocent smile, but she didn’t quite manage to hide the deviousness. “A coffee grinder! I’ve never seen one at the shop!”

Vash hesitated a moment, then laughed obnoxiously, too high and too loud. “Oh, no! I just buy them pre-ground! Why? Do you think we should get one?”

“Just curious,” Meryl murmured, shrugging and turning back to her own gun.

That wasn’t enough to dissuade Knives, though. He slowly looked up at his brother, gaze hard. Vash avoided his eyes, focusing on flicking a few switches on the gun. Wolfwood narrowed his eyes at him. Vash looked… very comfortable handling a gun. It was hot as hell, but he wouldn’t expect this from Vash of all people. The combination of tattoos, gun proficiency, and a sleeper build was really starting to get to him. He swallowed roughly, taking a long sip from his water bottle.

He still had a game of paintball to win.

“Okay, so the teams are Legato, Elendira, Zazie, Nai, and Livio,” Tesla said, flicking her wrist to the left. The five of them went that way. “Vash, Meryl, Roberto, Wolfwood, and I are the other team.”

Knives grimaced. “Tesla…”

She snorted. “Yeah, yeah, I hear you. Livio, would you mind switching with me?”

“Uh, sure?” he said, walking over to their side of the room. “Can I ask why, though?”

“Nai is an awful gunman,” Tesla said, rolling her shoulders. “He’s a bit useless in paintball, actually, so I have to be on his team to make up for it.”

While Knives grumbled, Roberto raised a brow. “And the kid is a better gunman?”

At that, both Tesla and Vash just grinned. Okay, sure. Wolfwood definitely wasn’t already hopelessly enamoured by the concept of Vash being good with a gun, and this certainly would not distract him during the actual game.

Knives cleared his throat, snapping sharply. “If you’re all done, I am ready to get this underway.” Then, without waiting for an affirmative response, he pressed a button on his wristband.

The room went pitch black, and slowly, the black lights came on, illuminating the arena. He spun in a slow circle, looking around. Each structure was color coded with a different trim, making the entire room look like a neon parkour course. The walls were also decorated in swirling, nearly psychedelic colors, and Wolfwood had to admit that this looked fun. Really, really fun.

Beside him, Meryl gasped sharply, while Roberto just huffed. Wolfwood glanced back, the breath immediately stolen from his lungs.

Vash was quite literally aglow . Symmetrical, winding lines lined his face, concentrated around his eyes, temples, and jawline. They were a bright blue-white, standing out in stark contrast to the purplish tint that the lights gave his skin. A few of the lines looped around the mole under his eye, a perfect picture frame for the beauty mark. The tattoos along his jaw extended down his neck, framing the long column of his throat elegantly. They disappeared into his shirt, and maybe Wolfwood could be convinced that the tattoos ended at the base of his throat, if it weren’t for the fact that, on his right hand, they also looped around his long, slender fingers.

He had the sudden, near-insatiable urge to trace the lines and find out just how far they extended. His brain, villainous as always, superimposed his own imagined version of the tattoos over Vash’s body and— oh, he could not be thinking thoughts this filthy around both of his bosses. Especially if one of them was the one he was thinking about. But holy shit , if Wolfwood’s interest wasn’t piqued in every way possible.

With considerable effort, he managed to peel his eyes away from Vash and his goddamn, infuriating little smirk that was still, despite everything, incredibly attractive. Unfortunately, as soon as he did so, he made eye contact with Legato. Again. A devastating sense of understanding passed between them, the sort of truce achieved only by nations under siege for decades. Wolfwood gave him a slight nod, clamping down on his more… scandalous thoughts. Once again: if he and Legato were having similar lines of thought, there was a problem.

Mind slightly more clear, he scanned over the Saverem siblings again. All three of them had their tattoos in the same places, but their individual lines were different. Vash’s were more winding and organic, while Knives’ were more angular and sharp. Tesla’s were thinner and more like veins, the sort of imagery that would work beautifully in a horror movie. And on Tesla Saverem, apparently.

Aside from looking cool (or hot, depending on the person) as hell, they did present both an advantage and a disadvantage. The three of them would be like beacons in the dark, which would cost them victory. As if Vash could read his mind, he leaned over to whisper.

“Don’t worry about me being seen,” he murmured, “I’m good enough to make up for it.”

And god , wasn’t confidence the most attractive thing on him? Wolfwood cleared his throat, nodding. “Whatever you say, needles.”

Vash pulled back, smiling. “Both teams get three minutes to prep, and then it’s best out of three. Round one has orange paintballs.”

With that, he dashed into the arena. Wolfwood readied his gun, following him like it was second nature.

•••

As it turned out, Vash really hadn’t been lying when he said he was good enough to make up for being a goddamn beacon in the black light. He dealt with the gun like it was a third arm, and he was light on his feet, dodging and running like it was second nature. Roberto didn’t even try to keep up: he just hunkered down and took tactical shots. Meryl was doing a little better, but considering that the gun was about half her size, lugging that thing around was most of what she was doing. Out of the four of them, Livio and Wolfwood were doing the best with keeping up with Vash.

And, okay, maybe they had the advantage of having grown up in a rural area and, therefore, having been forced to learn how to shoot, but that was neither here nor there.

The fact of the matter was, Vash was still a better gunman than both of them combined. Wolfwood could count on one hand how many shots he missed. And by god, if it wasn’t incredible watching him work the gun.

At one point, he and Meryl ended up taking cover in the same little alcove, providing what little assistance they could to Vash. During a lull in shooting, Meryl turned to him.

“Okay, seriously, are you sure Vash isn’t involved with Knives’s illegal dealings?” she asked, the frown clear in her voice. “I’m not asking this to be funny. I’m asking as a friend—“

“You’re asking this as a journalist , Shortie,” he hissed. “Yeah, I’m sure that Vash isn’t involved with Knives’s shady shit. Do you think he would actually be complicit in the type of fuckery Mike is pulling?”

She clicked her tongue. “There’s no way Vash ‘scared of confrontation’ Saverem should be this good at gunmanship unless there was a reason for him to be.”

That, at least, he could agree with. Not that it wasn’t extremely attractive to watch, but… his pinpoint accuracy did leave Wolfwood wondering. He definitely wasn’t complicit with Knives; that didn’t mean criminal connections were entirely out of the question, even if this was Vash they were talking about. The man would find a good criminal cause somehow.

And, actually— it would make more sense if Knives was insisting on buying Love and Coffee because of that, rather than just because he hated seeing his brother happy and independent. No, that would be absurd.

On principle, though, he couldn’t tell Meryl that her suspicions were sound. He gave an annoyed sigh instead.

“Maybe he just has good aim and beginner’s luck.”

“You and I both know—“

They were interrupted by Vash shrieking and the lights turning on. For a moment, Wolfwood was blinded by their sheer fluorescence. Oh, how he hated sudden lighting changes; Melanie would always scold them for using a screen in the dark precisely because of that.

Once his eyes adjusted, he saw Vash glumly wiping purple paint off of his goggles while Tesla stuck her tongue out at him. Wolfwood got up with a groan and jogged over to Vash, frowning.

“All good, Blondie?”

“We lost the first round,” he complained, pushing the face shield into his hair and making it stick out every which way. “I was distracted and then Tesla got in the last shot they needed! Ugh, I feel so bad—“

Meryl shoved him lightly, appearing from behind Wolfwood. “Quit that! You were carrying us the entire time!”

Livio nodded, a happy shine to his eyes. “Even if we lost, that was really fun! Where’d you learn to shoot like that anyway? You’re really frickin’ good.”

Vash chuckled sheepishly, yelping as Tesla threw an arm around his neck and dug her knuckles into his scalp.

“He was a sharpshooter in college,” she announced proudly. “Just like his big sister! He did outshine me, though. We have an entire box full of just his sharpshooting awards.”

Meryl’s jaw dropped open, her eyes bugging out a little. “ Seriously? Vash, what did you not do?!”

“I mean, I don’t shoot regularly anymore?” he tried, then held his prosthetic arm up. “And I don’t do recitals, either!”

Well, that was grim. Wolfwood cleared his throat, pointedly looking away from his hand. “Give us a brag sheet, needle-noggin. Because this is getting ridiculous.”

“I don’t think—“

“Oh, you’re a genius, Wolfwood,” Tesla said, eyes lit up like a Christmas tree. “I’m so making brag sheets for these two!”

Meryl gave him a knowing smirk as he tried to nod nonchalantly. That was a completely reasonable response to a compliment from his boss’s sister. Vash was whining, saying something about how he didn’t want to brag, but Tesla was having approximately none of it. In true older sibling fashion, of course: she called him a moron.

“What the—” Vash started, only to be interrupted by Knives appearing behind them, frowning. 

“Are you all done fraternizing? We have two more rounds, and we have to go switch the colors.”

And just like that, Vash perked up, walking backwards towards the lobby. “Oh yeah! Dibs on the red!”

“Unsurprisingly,” Knives grumbled.

Wolfwood didn’t have a color preference for this rich people version of paintball, but at that moment, he decided that he also wanted red. Just to piss off Knives, of course, because what greater joy did his life have? He followed Vash, giving a lazy salute to an incredibly annoyed Elendira.

“Hope you packed your premium shampoo,” he said, grinning. She flipped him off, and all was well.

•••

The second round was shaping up to be much the same, this time with Wolfwood’s team in the lead. It probably had something to do with the fact that he and Livio decided to properly contribute, but that was neither here nor there. Roberto continued to simply hunker down and land the occasional shot, while Meryl, surprisingly, was running interference. He had to hand it to her: she knew how to use her small size to her advantage, considering just how many times she’d nearly tripped up Legato.

“I think we owe her drinks after this,” Livio said, squinting down at the scene below them. They’d decided to take a quick breather in one of the high structures. All the climb did was make Wolfwood realize how badly he needed to join a yoga class; his calf still hurt. “Look at her go! God, I wish we had a camera. I’d pay to, like, memorialize the looks on Legato’s face.”

He scoffed, tapping Livio’s side with the paintball gun. “You want his ugly mug on your camera?”

“When he looks like he’s about to throw up, yes.”

Well. It was a noble cause, at least. “If you manage to get one, make a copy and send it to me.”

Livio snorted, nodding, and turned back to the scene below them. Vash was nearly surrounded, with Elendira to his left and Knives approaching from the right. Legato was still battling Meryl — and failing? With all the training they got at the Myelin? Wolfwood should bring up the idea of firing him —, but Tesla was stalking him from the front. He frowned.

Zazie hated to miss out on the action, so where were they?

Wolfwood narrowed his eyes, ducking around Livio to the other side of the overhang. And there they were, sneaking up behind Vash like some sort of sadistic coyote. He raised his gun, looking through the scope, and lined up the perfect shot. He may not have been as good of a gunman as Vash and Tesla, but he certainly wasn’t shoddy.

The shot landed true.

“Motherfudger!” Zazie yelled, looking up fiercely. Unfortunately, Wolfwood had already drawn back into the safety of the overhang, snickering.

“Nice one,” Livio whispered, leaning back. “Vash got the others off his back, too. I think we’re gonna win this round.”

“Mm, yeah?” he mumbled, eyeing his brother’s exposed back. Technically, this was probably against the rules. Realistically, Wolfwood did not care. He’d promised to beat Livio at paintball, and he was not one to break his promises. “Let’s get back down, Liv. Give them a hand or whatever.”

Perhaps he should’ve been more concerned by how readily Livio agreed, but the snapshots of red and the despair in his brother’s eyes playing out in his mind were enough to override the worry. Friendly fire was acceptable if it was your brother, and if Tesla could do it, so could he.

When they dropped onto the ground, Wolfwood turned around slowly, gun at the ready. It would be easy at point blank range. Victory was so close, and he couldn’t wait to laugh at Livio for his blind trust. Something nudged the back of his neck, however, and he came face to face with the barrel of Livio’s gun.

“I’m sorry about this, Nico,” Livio said, regret coloring every word. “But you knew I had to do it to you.”

He sucked in a sharp breath, raising his own gun and prodding Livio in the abdomen with it. “Guess we’re both traitors, then.”

His brother smiled ruefully, finger moving to press the trigger. At the last second, Wolfwood ducked away, firing a shot and hitting Livio in the side. He gasped, rounding on him and firing off three shots in quick succession. They all hit their mark, but not before Wolfwood was able to land another few hits.

“It’s such a shame it came to this, little brother,” Wolfwood huffed, ducking behind the support column of the overhang. “I’ll make sure to eat your share of the dessert at home. As tribute.”

Livio shook his head, a sharp grin coming over his face. Oh no. He knew that look. “Ah, priya sahodaraa, nee valare mandanaanu.  [5] You’ve already lost.”

Wolfwood’s eyes widened, and he whipped around to come face to face with Zazie. They smiled menacingly.

“Shame, isn’t it, Punisher? ”

And all went black.

When he looked up from the ground, everyone was staring at the three of them in various states of amusement, concern, or confusion. He rolled his eyes, hefting his gun onto his shoulder.

“Have none of you heard of theatrics?” he snarked. “Or friendly fire?”

Elendira was the first to stop staring at them like they personally offended her, clicking her tongue. “That was, perhaps, the most pathetic display of tragedy I’ve ever seen.”

“Your makeup is the most pathetic display—”

A shot to the chest shut him up, winding him in the process. Vash yelped, rushing forward and saying something about how the round was over. Wolfwood wasn’t particularly bothered, though, considering he was still processing his loss. A fact that Livio picked up on and, in true little bother fashion, immediately decided to gloat about.

“What was that about dessert, Nick?” he teased, nudging an already crestfallen Wolfwood. “Oh man, I can almost imagine telling Miss—”

“ Shut. Up, ” he hissed, elbowing him and nodding at the crowd. “I’m going to bash your damn head in, you brat.”

Vash sighed heavily, sliding his way between them. “Guys, we already won. Uh, as a team. I’m not sure what was going on between you two, to be honest.”

“Brotherly battles,” they said in unison, glaring lightheartedly at each other from around Vash’s head. He nodded like that made all the sense in the world, which, considering who his brother was, probably did.

“Let’s just refrain from friendly fire next round, yeah?” he asked, polite as always. Wolfwood sighed.

“Fine.”

Roberto cleared his throat, staring at them all unimpressed. “I wish we’d gotten a video of that just so that you two could see how odd you are.”

“Oh, we can request the game footage,” Tesla said flippantly, ignoring Wolfwood and Livio’s scandalized glares. “No worries there, Roberto.”

“Fantastic.”

It was, decidedly, not fantastic. A humiliating defeat followed by his tomfoolery being broadcasted to whoever the hell Roberto talked to was not what he wanted, but one genuine giggle from Vash was enough to keep him from complaining too much. Still, he hated every part of the suggestion.

“Hope your pillow’s warm on both sides, drunko.”

•••

The last round was a free for all because of course it was! He managed to talk Livio into a sort of truce with him, but everyone else was a lost cause. Meryl was already eyeing him, eyes narrowed in that scarily analytical way of hers. Roberto chose to sit this one out, which, Wolfwood figured, was probably better for the old man’s health. And the other Chae members were even worse: Legato looked ready to use his gun to simply bash Wolfwood’s head in, and Elendira was already scoping out the places where they could hide. The Saverem siblings were already a force to be reckoned with, and he prayed that they’d leave him until the very end.

Though, if he was being honest, the prospect of being faced with Zazie was the most terrifying thing. They were almost as small as Meryl, a dozen times faster, and held a grudge like nobody’s business. They were out for his blood, and he knew it.

Vash clapped his hands once, raising his voice just slightly. Even then, it wavered. “Okay, one thing, everyone! If someone’s already down, don’t keep shooting them! That’s mean!”

“And dangerous,” Tesla added, elbowing Vash. “Everything else is free game, though.”

And didn’t that bode bad news? Wolfwood took a deep breath and, at the whistle, shot off into the arena.

The round was a massacre. For whatever godforsaken reason, they’d all near unanimously voted for the final round to be red, meaning that the scene splayed out in front of him looked like a bloodbath. Legato was the first to get out, being shot in the chest by Knives of all people. Wolfwood would have made fun of him for getting shot by the man if he didn’t look elated about it; instead, he’d simply laugh at him for putting  all of the training Bruce gave them to waste.

He ducked behind a wall, breathing heavily as Zazie and Elendira ran by. They’d formed some kind of terrifying, tentative alliance, and Wolfwood knew he’d be on the receiving end of their ire. Still, he couldn’t quite bring himself to regret making fun of their matching hair color the first time he’d met them.

At the very least, Livio had gotten Meryl out, so that was one less person after his head. She was currently sulking next to Roberto, who looked halfway to dreamland himself. Wolfwood was a little surprised that he’d bothered to stay awake as long as he had, but maybe it was the fear of disappointing Vash. Even Roberto wouldn’t be immune to the guy’s sad puppy eyes, and he would end up spending way more on making it up to him.

Sleepiness was his problem, though. Peeking around the corner, he was equal parts relieved to see that he’d slipped under the radar for now, and a little concerned for whatever Vash, Knives, and Tesla were currently in the process of doing.

 They were on one of the curved structures, slowly circling each other with their guns raised. Tesla and Vash were aiming at each other, hands deathly still, while Knives alternated his shot between them. It was precarious, an accident just waiting to happen, and he couldn’t look away. So much so that, when Elendira shot him in the arm and got him out, he didn’t do much more than flip her off and scoff.

“One hell of a stalemate, huh?” Livio asked, appearing next to him suddenly. Wolfwood jumped. “I’m out, by the way.”

“Yeah, yeah, me too,” he mumbled, narrowing his eyes at the Saverem siblings as Tesla’s lip twitched up. “How much you wanna bet that Knives gets his ass handed to him?”

“All my pocket money.”

A hard bargain. “Subway footlong. They’re $$14 now.”

Livio whistled appreciatively. “Nice one. Also, I think I get what you and Meryl were saying about, uh, them being vampires.”

In the span of their short conversation, the blond buffoons had managed to switch aim and completely swap positions. Now, rather than Vash’s back being to them, it was Tesla’s. Perhaps unsurprisingly, Knives was the only one to not have moved; he’d just shuffled back, looking more and more unbalanced by the second. Vash caught Wolfwood’s eye over his sister’s shoulder and winked.

In the blink of an eye, he was nailed in the chest by Tesla’s gun. In the same moment, he’d switched his aim from Tesla to Knives, firing off a clean shot and sending his brother off the structure. It would’ve been comical if it wasn’t followed by a sickening crunch and Vash’s blood curdling shriek.

He dashed forward, Livio right behind him, to see Knives crouched on the ground, clutching at his shin. He looked more confused than anything, green eyes wide as he looked up at Vash.

“My leg. Mylegithurtswhy?” he gasped, shocked horror replacing the earlier confusion. “There’s so much pain in my leg. Did you shoot me? Did you actually shoot me? I can’t believe this! Did you really shoot me?!”

Vash stumbled back, a hand over his mouth as tears clung to his lashes. That was the first time he’d seemed genuinely terrified— not when customers were launching steaming cups of coffee at him, not when Wolfwood pressed too hard on the sore spot that was selling the shop. No, all it took was accidentally hurting someone he cared about.

Tesla blanched and dropped down next to Knives, coaxing his hands away from his leg, and it was then that Wolfwood remembered she was a doctor. She worked efficiently and clinically, ordering people around and bracing his leg with whatever the poor paintball staff were able to scrounge up. Wolfwood pitched in wherever he could, putting to use some of his death industry training. Perhaps that was a little morbid, though, considering Knives had only hurt his leg.

Tesla rolled her neck as the staff wheeled Knives out in a wheelchair, face grim as she turned to grab Vash by the shoulders. He’d completely shut down, staring blankly at where Knives had been sitting. She shook him aggressively, getting nothing more than a passive stare for her efforts.

“It’s not your fault,” she said firmly, and Wolfwood suddenly got the feeling this was not something he should be listening to. “Okay? Get that through your head, Vash. That was not your fault. ”

He shuddered, closing his eyes. “I should’ve noticed, Tes. God, I’m so—“

She cuffed him on the back of the head. Wolfwood shuffled away. “Quit that. No one’s at fault here.”

“Tesla—“

“ Enough , Vash. I’m not hearing any more arguments.”

With that, she grabbed her brother by the wrist and dragged him out of the room. Vash still looked miserable, his nose red from sniffling, but he followed without complaint.

Roberto sighed heavily, getting up with a pop of his knees. “Guess I’m the adult now. Get cleaned up, tip the staff, and we’re heading back to the hotel.”

Chapter Text

Vash hated hospitals. Truly and sincerely, he despised them. They were cold and sterile and brought back memories he’d rather forget. When they’d gotten to the emergency department at L’Hôpital, the nurses decided that Nai would be fine to wait for a few minutes until a room opened up. And, sure, that knocked some sense back into Vash — he wasn’t dying, for god’s sake —, but it did little to ease the guilt.

Out of the two of them, Nai was the one who hated pain the most. It was one of the few things that genuinely terrified him, and he did everything he could to avoid it. And now, here he was: suffering in pain and doped up on painkillers all because of Vash.

“Are you sure you’re good to stay here, Vash?” Tesla asked for the millionth time. “I can call someone to pick you up.”

He sniffled, shaking his head. “No, no. I should… I should stay.”

Tesla narrowed her eyes. “This better not be because you think you should suffer because you accidentally caused an injury.”

“Heh. Bullseye,” he chuckled wetly. “Like usual. I just— I think he’d want me there when he’s out, you know?”

Because he’d wanted his mom when he got out, but that was a no-go.

“Okay,” she said after a moment. “But I promise you, no one is going to fault you for leaving if you need to. I’ll kick their asses if they do.”

“I think kicking Nai’s ass would be rude, considering…” He trailed off, waving his hand vaguely. Tesla snorted.

They fell back into a relatively comfortable silence, and while it was nice not having to try to make conversation, it also gave his mind the opportunity to wander. And when it came to him and hospitals, that was a dangerous, dangerous thing.

Images of IV drips and pressors made for an incredibly depressing mental slideshow as they waited for an update, the occasional wailing child or complaining adult doing nothing to improve his mood. Still, considering he was the uninjured one, he couldn’t complain too much. A bit of discomfort was nothing foreign.

Finally, after what could’ve been minutes or hours, a tired looking doctor came up to them. Tesla immediately stood up, the mask of professionalism back on.

“How is he?” she asked. The corners of the doctor’s eyes crinkled.

“He’s fine, madame. The injury was simply a minor fracture, and the swelling made it look worse than it actually is.”

She nodded. “What did you do for him, and what are the care instructions?”

“It was completely noninvasive, thanks to how minor his injury was aside from the bruising. We’ve put his leg in a splint for now, and we ask that you bring him into urgent care tomorrow morning to get a cast,” the doctor explained. “His ankle is sprained and there is a fracture in the fibula, both of which are easily treatable.”

“Perfect. Any specific care instructions?”

“I’ve written a prescription for some strong painkillers that’ll last him through the night. Keep his leg immobilized and elevated. He is not to put pressure on that leg.”

Well, that was a relief. Vash could take care of people, at least, and knowing that Nai was fine was even more of a relief. Tesla exchanged a few more words with the doctor — something about insurance and international healthcare costs, as if it really mattered for the CEO of Eye of Michael Brews — before finally asking what he’d been dying to know:

“Can we see him?”

The doctor nodded understandingly. “You may, but we’d like you to arrange for transportation first.”

He jumped on that the second that he could. “Tes, I’ll take care of that. You go ahead and make sure he’s okay.”

“I’ll wait with you, Vash,” she said, eyes narrowed. Curse her observational skills for foiling his plan. “He’s not going anywhere.”

He scoffed, pulling out his phone grumpily. “Too soon.”

She leveled him with an unimpressed stare, the look screaming we are not doing this song-and-dance again, buddy.

“Ugh. Fine.”

Vash made a mental note as he got off of the call with Roberto that he’d have to strong arm the man into accepting a raise or a big bonus. Everyone was well aware of his nightly ritual of drinking and falling fast asleep, but he’d skipped out on that tonight.

Call it an anticipatory hunch , he said, promptly hanging up when Vash asked if he was serious about coming to pick them up.

With their driver situation sorted — or about as sorted as it was going to get with Roberto —, he was left with very few options of what to do. In fact, his options seemed to be narrowed down to two things: either he go to see Nai semi-willingly and make Tesla happy, or get dragged to see him with a very grumpy older sister.

Surprisingly enough, he did have a sense of self-preservation, so he barely put up a fuss as Tesla dragged him to Nai’s room. The scene was so strikingly similar to the last time he’d visited someone in a hospital that he almost had to laugh at the irony.

They stopped in front of one of the doors. “This wasn’t your fault, Vash,” Tesla repeated sternly.

He frowned. “Let’s just get this done with.”

“Say it back, first!”

“It back.”

Her eye twitched. “Vash Valentinez Alkalinella Xifax Sicidabohertz Gumbigobilla Blue Stradivari Talentrent Pierre Andres Charton-Haymoss Ivanovicci Baldeus George Doitzel Kaiser Saverem III.”

“Jeez, okay, okay! It— it wasn’t my fault.”

She nodded, seemingly satisfied for the moment. “Now just keep telling yourself that because it’s true.”

He found that he disagreed, but Nai’s garbled greeting cut through those thoughts. The man looked slightly less somber than usual, a funny flush to his cheeks.

“Vashu! Tessy!” he called as if announcing their presence to a grand audience of themselves.

Tesla smiled down at him, pushing Vash into the chair at his bedside. “How are you feeling, buddy?”

Nai groaned, the sound reminiscent of his drunken humming. “‘M feeling fiiiiine . My leg is so stiff. Am I made of cardboard?”

“You are made of knives, actually,” she laughed, ruffling his hair. “You ready to go home? We’ve got a big day tomorrow.”

His brother's eyes lit up, and Vash decided to let him live in his excited bliss for a little longer. He didn’t have to know that the big day was to get him a cast.

Then, his smile dropped as if something horrible occurred to him. He looked down at his hands in his lap. “I can’t drive . How are we gonna go home? Vashu,” he said, lip trembling as his eyes filled with tears, “ are you driving? ”

Vash groaned, pushing his glasses into his hair as he rubbed his eyes. “I accidentally street raced once , Nai.”

His brother sniffled loudly.

“No, dude, I’m not driving,” he sighed. “Roberto is.”

Nai stopped sniffling long enough to eye him warily, then huffed and flopped back against the bed. “Fine. Ugh, I hate this.”

Vash sighed regretfully. “Sorry—“

“Shut up,” his brother grumbled, swatting at him. “You look uglier than normal when you do that .”

“Wh— we have the same face!” he protested. “What am I doing?”

Nai hummed vaguely, face scrunching up as he thought. “Thinking too hard. Looks like you’re about to pass out instead of me.”

Curse his brother for being a damn smartass. Vash scowled. “Are you calling me stupid, Nai?”

“Yes.”

Vash reminded himself that it was probably illegal and immoral to whale on an injured person, but Nai made the temptation hard to resist sometimes. He sighed.

“Tes, how many painkillers is he on?”

“Probably two max, but they’re pretty strong,” she said, squinting at the IV bag. “Having a doctor as a sister does not, unfortunately, equate to having a medically omniscient sister, Vash.”

Nai gasped, the sound horribly wheezy in the cold hospital air. “We have sisters .”

“ A sister,” he corrected, flicking his brother on the forehead. He begrudgingly rubbed the spot as Nai began complaining. “Should he be so far gone that he’s hallucinating sisters? I don’t—”

“Elendira!”

“What about her?” Vash sighed, pushing his glasses into his hair. There was no way whatsoever that his brother was confusing Tesla for Elendira . That would be incredibly concerning, and he would probably have to insist on a headscan.

Nai had the audacity to huff as if Vash was the one being illogical. “She’s our sister, idiot. We have two.”

Tesla blinked down at him, placing the back of her hand against his forehead. “Are you feeling fine, Nai? How many Vashes do you see?”

He batted her hand away. “I’m fine! ‘M just saying, after she did the ancestry test—”

“The what? ” Vash interrupted, barely managing to keep his voice to a hospital-acceptable level. “You made her take a what? ”

“A DNA test,” he said impatiently, rolling his eyes. “Every Eye employee has to take one so that we can figure out insurance. You know how Bernardelli is. Anyway, apparently— apparently, our bio mom was a busy lady.”

Tesla’s jaw dropped. “And you’re telling us this now? Why didn’t you or Elendira tell us beforehand?! What the hell?”

“Didn’t think it was important, and she doesn’t know.”

“She doesn’t know,” Vash echoed a little hysterically. “She doesn’t know. Why does she not know, Knives?”

His brother had the audacity to blink up at him, ice blue eyes all wide and confused. “Why should she? It’s a conflict of interest.”

“She should know that she has siblings , first off,” he scolded. “And secondly, when did you ever care about conflict of interest?”

“Well, he kind of has to,” Tesla laughed, nudging him with her shoulder. “Just a bit.”

“Didn’t care when he tried to get me to sell Love and Coffee,” Vash grumbled. Tesla’s eyes widened minutely, and he suddenly remembered that they had not, in fact, told their sister about that little spat. He tried to backtrack. “Not that— We— Uh, we shut that. Down. Yeah.”

She looked thoroughly unconvinced, gaze flicking back and forth between the twins. Really, he couldn’t blame her for her concern. Opening a coffee shop had been the twins’ little dream after her accident, caffeine being the best safety precaution their little five-year-old minds could think of. And, for the longest time, that had been their goal, even when they went to college for the sciences. But sweet dreams had to end somewhere, and their co-owned coffee shop dreams ended when Nai realized he wanted success, and Vash decided he was happy just making people smile, penniless or not.

Still, that divergence had been amicable. They both had plenty of room for trial and error, what with the generational wealth and Rem’s inheritance, but Nai had somehow gotten it into his head that—

“Love and Coffee’s current model isn’t profitable!” Nai snapped, a weird drugged clarity in his eyes. Tesla narrowed her eyes at him. “And I refuse to let Vash constantly lose money and put himself at risk. I even offered to let him keep running the store, keep the branding, everything! He’d even get the profits!”

“And I said—” Vash cut in coldly. Tesla’s gaze flicked to him. “—that I’m not running the shop for a profit. We have enough money to be fine and then some. I turn over enough profit to keep the bills paid and keep my employees and customers happy.”

“And when the charm of a mom-and-pop shop fails?” Nai sniped back, crossing his arms. “Will it be like college again, with you living in a dingy apartment? Or will you be ‘crashing’ with random townsfolk again?”

“I’ll just go somewhere else, Nai. It’s not like I don’t mind moving around . I do what I have to.”

He did mind, actually. He was, at heart, a homesteader, someone craving stability after the turbulence of his late teens and twenties. But it didn't matter— he did what he did for a reason, and the smiles and grievances his customers aired were enough. Rem’s favorite café had done the same for him when he was younger, and it definitely didn’t hurt to pay it forward.

Nai’s eye twitched. “You wouldn’t have to look for new clientele if you let me buy the shop. You wouldn’t have to worry about surviving the slow season, the finicky contractors, or having to pull your punches just to make ends meet, baby brother.”

“I like doing all of that,” he argued. “I’m running Love and Coffee because I want to, Nai. Don’t forget that I’m as qualified as you. Again, I refuse to let you turn my store into another franchise. You’re doing great in everyone’s eyes, and I’m doing great in mine.”

“You and your childish hopes and dreams and ambitions,” Nai growled. Tesla scoffed, reaching over to tug at his ear. He yelped.

“That’s enough, Knives,” she snapped, tone brooking no arguments. “If Vash needs help, he knows better than to hide it from us.”

He shuddered at the thinly veiled threat. He can still hear the earful Tesla gave him when she found out that he didn’t tell his prosthetist that the port in his arm pinched if he moved it too high. There was so much yelling about PT and arthritis and a nearly academic refutation of the sunk cost fallacy.

Of course, that didn’t mean he’d be telling them about his financial troubles. Nai would just use it as an opportunity to gloat about ‘being right yet again.’ Failure was, unfortunately, not a good look on the Saverems.

“Yep,” he said brightly, popping the ‘p.’ “In a heartbeat.”

Tesla gave him an odd look, the same one that she used to give him when he lied about sneaking out in high school. But so long as he avoided eye contact with her, it would be fine! Besides, when Nai kept glowering at him, clearly trying to formulate a counterargument in his drug-addled state, Tesla smacked him upside the head. It was the small joys of having an older sister, really.

•••

Roberto felt ready to pass out when he saw the state of the Saverem siblings as they hauled Knives into the backseat. Vash had an odd twist to his face, expression stuck somewhere between a grimace and a plastic smile. He didn’t get looks like that often, and whenever he did, it was bound to be a pretty bad day for them all. 

Knives, for one, looked completely out of it, humming some jaunty tune as he laid out across his siblings’ legs. It was odd seeing him so relaxed, the usually uptight, stick-up-his-ass man trying to make almost amicable, if incomprehensible, conversation with him. Roberto wasn’t sure if he was glad for the development or sincerely concerned for his mental state.

Tesla was the last to slide in, cushioning Knives’s head on her lap while Vash stabilized his legs. She looked rather… distant. Stoic in a way that foreshadowed either a scolding or an exclusion from her will for someone. Still, her and Vash offered Roberto a smile. Vash’s smile was wider and dimpled, but Tesla’s was, in some odd way, less discomforting.

“Sorry to make you come all this way, Roberto,” Vash said quietly, voice a little scratchy and tired. He huffed, backing out of the parking spot.

“Quit that, pup. It ain’t an issue.”

Tesla hummed in agreement, muttering something about having told him so. Vash sighed.

“Still. Thank you.”

He grunted in acknowledgement, catching the kid’s eyes in the rearview mirror. Vash still wore those silly orange glasses despite it being the middle of the night; they still didn’t manage to hide his deep set exhaustion and frustration.

“How’s Spoons?”

“Spoons?” Tesla echoed, chuckling. “He’s fine. He’s kinda drug sensitive, so he’s always like this under influence. It’s just a mild fracture, so we’re gonna take him in to get a cast tomorrow. The splint and painkillers will last him for tonight.”

He hummed, nodding. “I’m sure you’ve seen him when he’s drunk, yeah? Boy’s a koala.”

“Ugh, tell me about it,” Vash groaned, smushing his face against the window, breath fogging up the glass even in the warm weather. “Vashu this, Vashu that— the only time he can show me affection is when he’s out of it.”

“Least you know he’s capable of it,” Roberto snorted, grinning as Vash kicked the back of his seat. “Regardless, don’t get your beans ground by the wrong guy, if you catch my drift.”

“Roberto…” he groaned. “Not the time.”

They fell into a comfortable silence for a moment, the radio humming quietly and the Saverems either muttering between themselves or drifting off. But, as he was wont to do, Knives decided to ruin the little bit of peace his siblings got. He gasped suddenly, getting a yelp out of Tesla. Roberto glanced at them, seeing Knives trying to sit up. He bit back an exasperated sigh.

“Vashu!”

Vash, bless his heart, didn’t even sigh. “Yeah?”

“Do you have a Grindr?!”

Vash choked, coughing loudly, and all of a sudden, Roberto really wished he could pull over to get a good look at what was happening in the backseat. As it was, he angled his rearview mirror just enough to keep an eye on them. Vash was red faced, the flush spreading up to his hairline, while Knives looked as serious as ever—ignoring the analgesic—induced haziness, of course.

And Tesla? Tesla looked delighted, catching his eye with a mischievous grin.

“ What? ” Vash finally shrieked, shoving a hand between his and Knives’s faces.

Knives waved his hands around. “When your second most questionable employee said that about you and—” he full-on shuddered, “— Wolfwood . I know it was a joke, but do you seriously have Grindr?”

“Okay, firstly, I’m a grown man. I can do what I want,” Vash began. It was all the confirmation Roberto and Tesla needed, but with Knives so out of it… well, he wouldn’t deny that he was curious how Vash would explain the concept of hookups to his twin brother. “But yeah, I had Grindr for a bit.”

Knives’s eyes widened like he was personally scandalized, then narrowed just as fast. “ Had? Did you delete it? Why did you delete it?”

This time, Roberto didn’t bother holding back his sigh. Of all things, that’s what he decided to fixate on?

“Yeah, Nai, ‘had.’ I deleted it after the party.”

“ Why? ”

Wow. He really needed things spelled out for him, huh? Even Roberto, drunk out of his mind and body during the party, managed to pick up on the, frankly, embarrassing amount of tension between those two.

Vash sighed a truly world-weary sigh. “Nai. I was flirting with Wolfwood the entire time, and he was flirting back. I don’t need Grindr for a—”

“ Ew! ” Knives screeched, flinging himself backwards just as violently as he had flung himself into a sitting position. Roberto cackled, finally pulling into the resort’s parking. Just in time, too, considering how dangerous laughing as hard as he is while driving could be. “Are you serious?!”

“He’s not—”

“Why Wolfwood ?” Knives all but whined, flopping back against Tesla dramatically. “He’s mean, ugly, a moron, and he smells like cigarettes and formaldehyde! Ugh, honestly, you should just redownload Grindr if you want to get laid that bad. Even if you’re too good for it.”

Roberto raised a brow, twisting around to exchange a glance with Tesla. She looked just as surprised as he was. Knives, speaking casually? It was truly an extraordinary day.

Vash didn’t seem thrown off, though. If anything, he just doubled down harder, scowling. “He’s kind and funny and really quite attractive, actually. And I’m not just trying to get—”

“Okay!” Tesla suddenly interjected, clapping her hands loudly. “I don’t actually want to hear about my brother’s sex life, shockingly!”

Roberto cleared his throat. “And I don’t give a fuck about my boss’s sex life, either. Go to sleep, Puppy and Spoons.”

Vash relented, opening the car door and sliding out carefully. Roberto was almost surprised by how easy it was to quiet the two down, but, of course, things could never be easy with them. Vash pushed his glasses into his hair, a devious smirk creeping across his face. Knives was still flustered by the realization that his adult brother did adult things, and Roberto had the distinct feeling that his awkwardness was only going to get worse.

“Besides, brother dear, those who live in glass houses shouldn’t be throwing stones,” Vash sang, hefting Knives into his arms. “Or should I bring up Legato by name?”

Knives all but screeched, doing his best to slap a cackling Vash. Really, though, he should’ve seen that one coming. Roberto did, and he didn’t even know Legato that well. Tesla was out a few moments later, staring exhaustedly at her bickering brothers.

“What the hell?” she finally said, sighing heavily. “I swear, both of them need to get laid.”

“Thought you didn’t wanna know about your brothers’ sex lives?” he jibed. Tesla scoffed.

“And I don’t. But it’s obvious that they need it.”

Roberto thought back to the weekends at the coffee shop where Vash would stare forlornly out at the street after the initial morning rush—assuming Wolfwood wasn’t scheduled for a morning shift—and wait for the object of his affections to arrive. He grunted, suddenly craving a cigarette.

“You can say that again.”

Chapter Text

Meryl was, surprisingly, a good swimmer. Her dad used to say it was because she was tiny and streamlined, but she preferred to attribute her prowess to leg strength. So then, imagine her disappointment at being roped into a game of beach volleyball on the second to last day of the vacation. She was ready to swim in the open ocean and splash water at people!

“I’m only playing three rounds,” she announced, scowling and tugging at the coverup. Vash smiled apologetically. 

“Normally Nai would play, but…”

She glanced at the man in question. Knives was currently posted under a garish beach umbrella, slathered with sunscreen—she bet that he’d still burn, of course—and flipping morosely through a self-help book. His leg was in a cast, slightly raised and cushioned on Vash and Tesla’s beach bags. It was stunningly pathetic, but it did little to inspire sympathy in her.

“Yeah,” she said distastefully. “Okay.”

“Shortie!” Wolfwood called from the court, grinning deviously. “Wanna be our setter?”

Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Vash slashing his hand across his throat desperately, mouthing something. Wolfwood only grinned more smugly, and that was enough for her to make her decision.

With all the casualness she could muster, she strode over to him, kicking up sand behind her and tucking the edge of her coverup in her shorts. Wolfwood raised a brow, taking the lollipop out of his mouth.

“Wow—“

She landed a hard kick on his shin, making sure to put all her weight behind it. With a cut off gasp, Wolfwood stiffened. She could almost trace the shiver as it made its way up his body.

“Fucker—“ he hissed, hopping up on one foot and massaging his shin. Meryl let the satisfaction roll over her for a moment before catching the worst offense of the day.

“Wolfwood…” she said slowly, ignoring his glare. “Why are you wearing your loafers.”

“Do you think I’m a man who owns more than one pair of shoes?” he snapped, peering at her over the rim of his sunglasses.

She sputtered, waving her arms around. “You don’t even have flip flops?!”

He scoffed. “Why are you so desperate to see my feet?”

Suddenly, Meryl understood why Roberto hated this guy. She sent up a silent prayer for Vash’s sanity and sighed.

“Do the blisters not bother you, Undertaker? Standing on your feet all day, every day, and then—“ she wrinkled her nose, “ —wearing your loafers to a sandy freaking beach?”

Wolfwood shrugged, wholly unbothered by how utterly strange he was. “Got used to it. Can you even swear, or are you like Blondie without the blond and the sweetness?”

“I can swear. I just choose to actually use my vocabulary,” Meryl sniffed, crossing her arms. “Observe. Wolfwood?”

He raised a brow. “What?”

“Fuck you.”

He pressed his lips into a thin line, holding his hands up. “Touché.”

Now, with that settled… “Why in the world would I be setter, Wolfwood?!” she snapped, shoving him. “Are you dumb?”

“You’re like a feral cat,” he said, dodging another swipe of her hands with that dumb smile on his face. “Fine, you can be on the back line.”

“I want to serve first.”

He frowned, and she could almost imagine him narrowing his eyes behind his sunglasses. “Do you think you could even get it to the net?”

Meryl just grinned.

Meryl, Vash, Roberto, and Wolfwood were on one team, which… didn’t seem like enough people, but the look on Roberto’s face didn’t bode well for the others, so she let it be.

The other team consisted of Elendira — who was, honestly, probably the only competent player on the team —, Legato, Zazie, Livio, and, upon Roberto’s insistence, Tesla. She was going to join their team originally, but Roberto shook his head.

“They’ll need all the help they can get,” he’d said. That totally wasn’t ominous, and Meryl totally didn’t exchange a disconcerted glance with Tesla.

Vash tossed the ball to her after they took positions, grinning supportively over his shoulder. “Two tries!”

She wouldn’t need the second, of course. Adjusting her stance — feet spread apart, leading foot pointing to the target, hips straight, the works —, she tapped the ball. It was a bit firmer than she’d prefer, but whatever. Narrowing her eyes and locking in at the center of the other team’s formation, she tossed the ball up and served it.

In mere moments, it was hitting the court and spraying sand into their faces. Zazie had made a dive for it but collided with Livio halfway there. Roberto whistled, shooting her a thumbs up, while Vash cheered.

“Ace!” Roberto called, as if anyone but him knew what it meant.

“Holy shit,” Wolfwood breathed, eyeing Meryl cautiously. “You pack one hell of a punch for such a little thing.”

She smirked. “Still want me to play setter, Undertaker?”

“I want your damn arm and back routine. What the hell?”

She snorted. “One day. Now get your head in the game before Roberto stuffs it in the sand.”

In fact, it was getting clearer by the second why Roberto insisted on Tesla joining the other team. The man was terrifyingly good at volleyball. In a few short plays, he’d managed to whip them all into shape, getting them to call the ball every time. The other team, meanwhile, was still struggling to call the ball and then actually do anything about it. Legato and Elendira kept colliding into each other, and Meryl had the feeling that Elendira was about to start clawing the man’s face off. She’d pay to see it, too.

What she wouldn’t pay to see, though, was Wolfwood’s disastrous playing. For being as good with a gun as he was — and for being as absurdly, inhumanly tall as he was — he still somehow managed to take or send a ball to the face every. Damn. Time. For once, Meryl was glad that she wasn’t face to face with the guy.

“Mine— oh, no! Wolfwood, it’s yours!” Vash called from up front, ducking down as the ball soared over him.

“Got it!”

Wolfwood lunged forward, arms outstretched. And the thing was, he managed to hit the ball; however, he also managed to eat absolute shit, losing his godawful loafers in the process. Perhaps Meryl shouldn’t have been surprised by what she saw, considering Wolfwood was the type of guy to have beach loafers. However, that still didn’t ease the hit of learning that he was wearing loafers without socks this entire time.

Roberto managed to save the ball, but Meryl called for a time out, earning herself a harsh glare from her mentor. She had more pressing matters, though. She spun on her heels, pointing accusingly at Wolfwood.

“Where are your socks , Wolfwood?!”

He rolled over onto his back, scowling up at her. “What do you think I am, wearing fucking socks at the damn beach?”

Her eye twitched. “So loafers are normal, but socks are absurd?”

“Obviously?” he snarked, raising a brow. “Are you done looking at my feet now?”

She kicked sand into his face.

•••

Tragically, Nai got his hands on multiple drinks over the course of their games. He had a flush high on his cheeks, and, for the last two rounds, had been yelling out barely comprehensible heckles at Wolfwood. Tesla had shot him a few concerned glances, and Vash eventually slipped away to check on him. He shouldn’t have been drinking with the medicines he was on — and Vash spoke from experience —, but he would’ve done it anyway. He flopped down next to his brother, putting his sunglasses into his hair.

“How’re you feeling?”

Nai’s head lolled to the side, and he gave him a doped up smile. “Gooooood. Wolfwood’s really, really bad at volleyball.”

Vash had half a mind to attribute the last few… disasters of his to his questionable footwear, but it seemed that the man was intent on digging his own grave.

“Volleyball is basically like badminton! It shouldn't be this hard!” he yelled, immediately getting tackled by Meryl, Elendira, and Legato in quick succession. Vash grimaced.

“Apparently he’d joined a badminton team in college,” he said to no one in particular. Nai hummed.

“There’s a ball and a net! Or, okay, a net and a birdie, but still,” he called from somewhere under the pile of limbs.

“Lots of games have a net. That doesn’t mean they’re badminton .” Meryl reluctantly got up, brushing off sand. “Tennis is arguably closer to badminton, but it’s still not badminton.”

“No, no, hear me out. You have a thing, and you need to get the thing over the net, right? The entire point is to keep the thing from hitting the ground. They’re exactly the same!”

“Have you perhaps considered that volleyball involves more people than badminton?” Legato asked, voice dripping disdain.

“Well, yeah, of course. That’s why it’s like doubles badminton. Just with a few more people.”

“I— what are you talking about? ” Roberto had finally turned from the rest of the game, though whether anyone was still playing was debatable. It was the most horrified Vash had ever seen the man.

“Volleyball’s just, uh, quadruples badminton without rackets and a slightly bigger ball.”

“Slightly bigger… quadruples?” Roberto stared at him for a long moment. “I think that’s enough volleyball for you today, Punisher.”

Mercy of mercies, Wolfwood grumbled but didn’t argue, even with Zazie goading him into further debate. Next to him, Nai had watched the whole exchange with narrowed eyes, gaze sharp despite how many drinks he had.

“We’ve hired a moron,” he declared, sipping from his mimosa. “Nicholas Dokonokuminomonjawaresumakinishiteshizumetarokakora ‘Danger’ Wolfwood is an absolute and utter moron. I still think you can do far, far better than him , Vashu. ”

Vash sighed. They were already at the ‘Vashu’ phase of his drunkenness, and it wasn’t even halfway through their beach trip. “Never mind that. How did you say his middle name that well?”

He sniffed haughtily. “I make sure to know my employees.”

Wolfwood cleared his throat. “You missed one variation of it. Deenabhandave .”

“I make sure to know my employees that I actually care about,” Nai amended, glaring daggers at Wolfwood.

So well, in fact, that he made them all take DNA tests. He was still reeling from learning about Elendira being their sister, and he dreaded when she would find out. He sighed again, suddenly exhausted.

“I think I need a nap,” he muttered. Nai patted his hair sympathetically.

“You’ll get sunburned if you sleep here, brother.”

Vash decided to not point out the fact that he never got sunburned, but Nai always did. A drunk brother was bad enough; he didn’t need an angry drunk brother. “Y’know what else is burned, Nai? The coffee at Mike’s.”

He thought it was a simple joke. A funny joke, even. What Vash did not expect was for his brother to suddenly sit up, turn to face him, and stare into his soul. He remembered, then, why he always wore sunglasses: being at the center of one of their attentions was a terrifying experience.

“To speak ill of the fortunate, made by their own merit, is to cast shadow upon your own path,” he declared, voice steady and enunciated. Vash narrowed his eyes, gaze flicking to Livio and Wolfwood as they began whispering between themselves.

“Hey, be not afraid!” Wolfwood suddenly yelled, eyeing Nai suspiciously. Nai startled, staring at him wide eyed, and Wolfwood wasn’t quick enough to hide the horror in his eyes.

“How—?” Nai started before cutting himself off. Wolfwood groaned, burying his face in his hands as Livio patted his back absentmindedly, distress shadowing his features as well.

“Okay,” Elendira cut in, eyes narrowed. “What is happening ? What have you three not told us?”

Livio chuckled sheepishly, running a hand through his buzzed hair. “Well, uh. Hm. Nick?”

“Like hell I’m saying anything!”

“God, you’re insufferable,” Livio grumbled, visibly steeling himself. “Does— Does the username ‘benotafraid’ ring any bells?”

The username rang many bells, in fact. Vash watched in real time as Tesla went through the five stages of grief, her face twisting. Eventually, she regained her composure, looking around at the group to see if anyone else had caught the reaction. Unsurprisingly, Meryl was already looking at her, eyes narrowed; surprisingly, though, Roberto was as well. And he seemed equally horrified.

“As in— that benotafraid?” he finally asked. “The damn Mike’s angel guy?”

Vash blinked. “Roberto, how in the world do you know that?”

He grimaced, his reply being cut off by everyone’s assorted yelling. Vash shrunk back, pulling his knees to his chest, and watched everyone throw accusations at each other about following the angel roleplayer who defended the Eye of Michael Brews with his life on Tumblr. Wolfwood pointed accusingly at Roberto, eyes wide and sunglasses shoved haphazardly in his hair.

“Answer the damn question, Drunkle. How the fuck do you know about benotafraid?!”

Roberto glared right back, crossing his arms. “He’s infamous, Undertaker. Anyone on the Internet could tell you about benotafraid and his insane Biblical gambits.”

“Next you’re gonna tell me you know about nikolateslanew!”

Tesla cleared her throat, looking away pointedly. Wolfwood wheeled on her immediately, narrowing his eyes. Vash sighed, shaking his head helplessly as she glanced at him, eyes begging for help. Wolfwood called the reporters nosy, but he was just as bad, if not worse. He always tried to ask about Vash’s pattern for moving places, his next locations, this or that, that or this.

“Are you nikolateslanew?” he asked. Tesla heaved out a sigh, tugging on her hair.

“Maybe.”

Nai squawked, pointing accusingly—though his hand was a little off, and he was actually pointing at a seagull—at their sister. “You?!”

“Oh my god.” Wolfwood began pacing around, looking between Nai, Tesla, and Roberto suspiciously. “Okay, Knives over there is benotafraid, which— no fucking surprise. Tesla is nikolateslanew, which is legendary and a very older sibling thing to do.”

Tesla held out her hand for a high five, and Wolfwood silently obliged before returning to his deductive pacing.

“Drunkle… fuck, you gotta be alcohol, huh?” he joked. Roberto, however, grimaced, and Wolfwood screeched. “Fuck off! Nee unmaadiyaanu [1] ! ”

Meryl laughed hysterically, wheezing. “ Wow! Can’t even escape you on Tumblr, huh?”

Roberto whirled around. “What?”

“You’re the only person I follow, Roberto!” Meryl cackled. “We’re mutuals! I’m vampiremafiaknower.”

Roberto paled, muttering something about unprofessionalism and having to deactivate his account. Vash just hoped that he’d keep it long enough to let Tesla comb through his posts; he wanted gossip on his employees too, dammit!

“How did you even get that URL?” Wolfwood asked, bemused. “Just— Just ‘alcohol’?”

“If I want something…” Roberto said ominously, trailing off. “Anyway, Undertaker . Why’re you so pressed about this, huh? What’s your URL?”

Vash bit back a snort. Wolfwood being on Tumblr made infinite sense, and it was almost enough to tempt him into revealing his Twitter handle. He wasn’t quite that dumb, though: Meryl would immediately get on his case for never telling them about his degrees. It wasn’t his fault he only used two of them on the regular! He had to find a way to put the third to good use, and getting into pointless internet arguments was the perfect pastime.

Wolfwood suddenly found a very interesting seashell fragment at his feet, but Vash caught the devilish grin spreading over Livio’s face. He casually threw an arm around his brother’s shoulder, leaning almost entirely onto Wolfwood.

“Well, dogbark here—”

“ Oru viddi [2] ! ” Wolfwood snapped, shoving him. “You couldn’t even think of anything original, you donkey! What the fuck is ‘thebetterdogbark’?!”

Next to Vash, like a zombie arisen, Nai’s head snapped up, and he fixed Wolfwood and Livio with a piercing glare. “So you two are dogbark and thebetterdogbark. I suppose I can terminate you two for insubordination now.”

Vash cuffed him over the head, frowning. “Nai, don’t you dare take retaliatory action. That’s a lawsuit in the making. What’d they do anyway?”

“They keep starting arguments with me, Vashu! And then they tag Tesla!” Nai whined. He actually, genuinely whined. “And— and she publicly humiliates me!”

“Don’t be so easy to humiliate, then,” Wolfwood shot back. Tesla snorted. “Besides, you have beveryafraid going to bat for you. This just balances it all out.”

Vash glanced at Legato. He wasn’t entirely familiar with the Tumblr drama, but he was annoyingly familiar with Legato’s antics. And, sure enough, the man was pointedly avoiding everyone’s eyes and occupying himself with trying to death glare the entire ocean. Bingo.

“I’m not surprised Legato’d do that,” Zazie offered, smirking as Legato spun on his heel just to fix them with a cutting glare.

“Beveryafraid with his dom daddy, benotafraid,” Wolfwood mused, yelping as Livio punched his shoulder. “What the fuck, Liv?!”

“That was an inside thought, Nicholas!” Livio snapped, pinching the bridge of his nose. “ Nammude bosinte munnil vechu namukku athu parayaan kazhiyilla [3] ! ”

“After seeing what they post?” Zazie raised an eyebrow.

While they bickered, Roberto frowned, seemingly coming to a realization. “Wait, then what’s Zazie’s Tumblr?”

“Somethingbuggy!” they chirped, grinning evilly as Elendira and Meryl fake retched. “I’m a bit of a local celebrity, if I do say so myself.”

“That’s a way to say it,” Roberto muttered. “You’re pretty damn infamous for all of your urbex shit. I think half of what everyone says is just safety regulations.”

Zazie shrugged, entirely unbothered even as Vash grimaced at the thought of urban exploration without adequate protection. He had a great immune system, but even he wouldn’t risk it when it came to urbex. It wasn’t surprising Zazie didn’t care, though; they’d always seemed like a bit of a mad scientist. He just didn’t expect their brand of science to be mycology experiments. In their lungs.

“Hey, look, if you think that’s bad, just ask Elendira about her Twitter,” they suggested, smirking as she straightened up, glaring at them. Roberto just sighed, turning to her with a raised eyebrow.

She sniffed haughtily, examining her blood red nails. “Crimsonnails.”

Vash flinched. Crimsonnails was infamous on Twitter. Her posts were gorgeous, really! Pretty photos of roses and tea and gunmetal— the works. And then it came out that she had been telling people who messaged her to ‘kys,’ citing the “excessive stupidity and desperation in their messages.” Sure, some of the messages were silly—who asked about flower types to an aesthetics poster?—, but Vash didn’t think any of them warranted that .

Zazie hummed, nodding sagely. “Fitting for you, Elendira.”

“I wonder why, Beast.” She turned to Vash, then, brow raised. “Care to explain that reaction, Vash?”

All of a sudden, it felt like all eyes were on him. He swallowed, chuckling nervously. “I don’t think that’s—”

“I could find it myself,” Meryl pointed out, hand hovering over her back pocket. 

“Meryl, don’t .”

She motioned for him to get one with it. He sighed heavily.

“My username has a typo.” He paused for a moment, silently begging everyone to drop it. Naturally, they didn’t, and Vash cursed his expressiveness. Meryl rolled her eyes, pulling out her phone. His face dropped. “Meryl—”

She squawked out a laugh, snorting. “What— What the—? Methlover? Vash, you— meth?! ”

He groaned, hiding his face in his hands. “Math! It was supposed to be mathlover! Oh my god, Meryl, look at my posts! It’s all math and biology, I promise!”

She nodded amusedly, scrolling. “Uh huh. Why have you been arguing about ‘trigonometric identities’ and whether ‘prions are living’?”

“Uh.”

Unfortunately, Nai took that as a chance to brag about him. “Really, what kind of employees are you? You didn’t know about his degrees?”

Meryl blinked owlishly, tucking her phone away. “Degrees? Plural?”

“Nai—”

“Oh, yes. He double majored in bioengineering and business, and he has a masters in business and management,” Nai said proudly, putting a hand on his shoulder. Vash cleared his throat, shrinking into himself to avoid everyone’s stares. Tesla wasn’t helping matters, nodding along enthusiastically to what Nai said.

“And he minored in dance! His recitals were great ,” she added, smirking as he glared at her. “I’m sure I can find a video saved somewhere.”

“Tesla,” he groaned. “Please don’t.”

“No, no, you should ,” Meryl said loudly, her tone indicating that she was planning something. He glanced at her, eyes widening slightly as he watched her and Tesla have some invisible conversation about himself and Wolfwood. That boded like bad news.

“I will, don’t worry,” Tesla agreed, winking. “In fact, I think I have his last recital video saved on my phone.”

“Tes—” he started, only to be cut off by Meryl’s excited squealing and Elendira’s fascinated hum. “Oh no.”

“Nah, I don’t think it’s an ‘oh no’ situation, Blondie,” Wolfwood said, pulling his sunglasses over his eyes again. “You’re already a flailing ball of limbs, so it can’t be that bad.”

Vash huffed. The issue was that it wasn’t bad. In fact—and Vash wasn’t one to brag—it was good . He’d gotten the highest marks in his class, and the video was apparently used as an exemplar for the next batch of dancers. It was a good piece, and he wouldn’t have minded it being shown if it wasn’t for one very important detail.

No one present knew about the extent of his scarring. It wasn’t like he was shy about them or that he even disliked them, but he didn’t really want to deal with the pity and the questions right now. Sue him.

“Tesla, why don’t you show them another one?” he suggested, trying to explain why with his eyes. Like always, Tesla seemed to understand, and she nodded, humming.

“Maybe your first one, but I’ll have to dig that one out on my laptop.”

He blinked. “Or you could just… not?”

She smirked, and Vash knew it was a lost cause. He sighed.

“Wait, are you talking about the ribbons one?” Nai asked, perking up as much as he could while hammered and on medicine. “Oh, Vashu, that one’s so good! I want to watch it!”

He chuckled nervously, patting his brother on the arm. “Let’s not watch that one, Nai. It’s— you know. Has all the, uh.”

“Well, if they say anything, we can kick their asses,” Nai said, eyes narrowed. “They wouldn’t be that stupid, right?”

Maybe not, but more than one person had said the same thing and then run away after seeing him. He pursed his lips.

“I’ve done other ribbon performances. We can show them one of those.”

Nai shoved him lightly, pouting. “But that one’s the best , and you had so much fun doing it, and the set was so good.”

“Drop it, Nai,” he sighed. “We can watch that one later, but I don’t— I don’t want to show that one.”

“But Vaaaaaash !”

He clicked his tongue, flicking Nai on the forehead. “Also, part of that one’s set to ‘American Horror Show.’ Do you really want them seeing that?”

Sure, that was a sneaky way to get out of watching the video, considering Nai had scolded him about how ‘objectifying’ that part of the dance was and how ‘flirting with the audience’ was cheap. But considering that Wolfwood was here and knowing Nai’s dislike for him… well, it was a surefire way to get him to drop it, if nothing else.

Nai’s eyes widened. “Maybe everyone but Wolfwood—” Vash groaned, “—can watch that.”

At that, Wolfwood scoffed, crossing his arms. “Aw, what? He’s a grown man, Knives. Can’t stand the idea of me watching your brother despite that?”

Nai rolled his eyes, waving his hand dismissively. “Oh, please. You’re watching him in every way that’s not part of the assignment. Maybe if you were actually a competent informant, I’d consider letting you see that.”

Vash stiffened, turning slowly to face Nai. Maybe he hadn’t heard that properly— informant? Wolfwood, an informant , when he could barely talk to Vash without stumbling over his words? Watching him?

Nai didn’t seem phased by what he said, but Wolfwood had blanched, taking half a step back. Roberto caught that too, zeroing in on him with a rage that Vash had seldom seen.

“Explain yourself, Punisher ,” Roberto hissed, stalking towards him. Wolfwood’s lip curled, and he stepped forward to meet him halfway. “What’s this about you being an informant? You better hope that I heard that wrong.”

“I’m not explaining myself to you, old man.” Wolfwood shoved him back— not hard, just enough to get his space back. “Millions Fucks is drunk and doped up. You gonna believe him while he’s like that?”

“I’m gonna believe him because you weren’t slick enough with all your questions, boy.”

Meryl stepped forward, arms crossed. “ And , Wolfwood, in case you haven’t noticed: Knives is a drunk talker, not a drunk liar.”

Wolfwood scowled, shoving Livio away as he tried to join in. “ Athu viduu. Ithu ningalude porattamalla [4] . ”

“Nick—”

“ No ,” he snapped, effectively shutting his brother up, then turned back to Roberto and Meryl. 

Vash watched them argue, quietly sorting through the din in his head. He should’ve figured that Nai wouldn’t have let the shop argument go so easily, but to get someone else involved in it — that wasn’t… right. They’d always handled their issues themselves, rarely bringing Rem or Tesla into their disagreements. They never had to! But here was his brother, hiring a man to spy on him and gather data and—

And get close to him.

It was almost funny that the most jarring realization of the day was that there was a nonzero chance that everything between him and Wolfwood — every passing remark, every wink and smile and joke — meant nothing. That it was just a ploy to get him to cough up the information Nai wanted. It wouldn’t be the first time something like that happened, but he was so sure it was different this time.

He saw it in Wolfwood’s eyes.

And really, to an extent, he still didn’t think that Wolfwood — good and kind and just — would do something like this without good reason. But it still hurt like a bitch, and Vash couldn’t help but laugh. What else was he meant to do, after all? Cry?

All eyes snapped to him, and Tesla was the first to run forward, wrapping him in a hug. He wiggled his head out from under her chin, making sure he could see everyone. Legato looked completely disinterested, more concerned about making sure Nai didn’t see Vash’s state. Zazie was regarding him with mild curiosity, the look in their eyes pitying. He hated it.

Elendira and Livio were preoccupied with making sure the reporters and Wolfwood didn’t start fighting, but Livio spared him a sympathetic glance and a mouthed ‘sorry.’ He hated it.

“What— What…” he finally managed to get out, voice hoarse and breathy from his dry laughter. “What were you thinking , Nai? A forced merger?”

His brother sighed. “It’d be for your own good, Vash.”

Vash twisted in Tesla’s hold, glaring at Nai. “These were our issues, Knives. You had no damn right to involve anyone else in this.”

“You wouldn’t listen to my reasoning, so I figured you’d listen to someone else,” Nai snapped, voice rather steady and sober. Vash scoffed.

“Did you seriously think I’d listen to him?” he asked incredulously. Whatever Wolfwood saw in his gaze was enough to make him duck away, mumbling about needing a smoke. Vash’s chest hurt. “There’s no changing my mind, Nai. Not about this.”

Because he was Vash Saverem, and he liked running his little coffee shop in the middle of Jeneora Rock.

•••

It was a small mercy that they were scheduled to leave the very next day. The ride to the airport was horribly awkward, with Vash staring out the window, dead eyed, and Knives’s glare boring holes into the back of the headrest. Roberto wasn’t sure how much he liked this sort of silence with this group; he’d always known them to be raucous and loud and annoying. Even Meryl, who he’d expected to try and play peacemaker, was quiet, reading something on her phone.

He held back a sigh, gaze wandering over to Wolfwood. He’d never been particularly fond of the guy, finding him too sleazy to keep around, but he’d begun to think differently when Wolfwood all but beat down that customer. Roberto’s judgement was rarely off, but it figured that it’d skew on the one guy it shouldn’t have skewed on. Still, it was a small consolation that the man was an open book when it came to Vash and the coffee shop— his heart clearly wasn’t into playing double agent.

Of course, that didn’t change the fact that he’d done it anyway , but it helped enough. Roberto didn’t want to beat him into a pulp quite as badly. He’d make sure to chew him out later, though.

And, as if things couldn’t get worse, the plane ride was dead silent too. Roberto didn’t mind that nearly as much, but Meryl was particularly bothered. She kept wiggling in her seat, glancing around as if someone would finally address the elephants in the room. No dice, though. Wolfwood had his eyes closed, head leaned against the plane window, and Livio seemed zoned out. Zazie had disappeared somewhere in between check-in and security, though Roberto couldn’t say he was too bothered by the little freak disappearing.

Legato was, unsurprisingly, sitting right next to Knives, trying to sympathize with him. It was like watching him talk to a brick wall. Knives himself had a scowl on, face twisted unpleasantly. Maybe he was finally realizing how badly he’d betrayed his brother’s trust; Roberto didn’t count on that, though. The man was about as self-aware as a rock.

“Roberto, look at Vash,” Meryl whispered, her eyes wide with concern. “He looks terrible.”

Unsurprisingly. He still glanced backwards, if only to feed his morbid curiosity, and sighed heavily. Vash was still staring out the window, fiddling with the teal bones of his prosthetic. He had bags under his eyes, looking more tired than usual. Tesla watched him worriedly, catching Roberto’s eyes as she looked over. He raised a brow.

She shook her head slightly, mouthing, ‘didn’t sleep.’

That explained that. Though, he couldn’t really blame Vash. He wouldn’t want to sleep after that either. Roberto made a mental note to get him something sweet at the airport, even if his wallet hurt at the thought. And, he supposed, he should start thinking of a way to ask for medical leave, no matter how badly timed his appointment was. Someone had to set a good example for these kids.

He caught the Saverems right as they were leaving baggage claim, shoving a bag of probably stale donuts into Vash’s hands. He blinked, eyes refocusing for the first time in hours.

“Whuh?”

“You looked terrible, and I doubt you’ve eaten,” Roberto said, eyes narrowed. “And I figured donuts would sweeten the fact that I need a three day leave starting Monday.”

“Oh, uh— whole day?” Vash asked. Out of the corner of his eye, Roberto saw Knives begin to open his mouth. Thank god Tesla elbowed him first, because Roberto had half a mind to punch him.

He nodded, turning back to Vash. “Colonoscopy. You’ll get it once you’re my age. You need me to come in on Monday morning?”

“No, it’s fine. You just focus on yourself, Roberto,” Vash said, smiling slightly. He clutched the bag of donuts slightly tighter. “Take care, okay?”

He couldn’t help but sigh. “You too, kid.”

Chapter Text

Chapter Text

The shop was empty. Well, no— it wasn’t empty. The last few stragglers from midday rush were finishing up lunch, and Meryl was looking at him purposefully. Vash sighed, waving off a concerned patron with a smile, and nodded to the back. Meryl narrowed her eyes, but nodded, stepping back.

It was the first Monday after everything , and Vash was valiantly trying to ignore the elephants in the room. There was the smaller elephant of his brother’s idiocy and involvement, a frog in a boiling pot. Vash could and would deal with that, and he wouldn’t let anyone else get more involved.

Then there was the bigger elephant of Wolfwood . Wolfwood, kind and cowardly and so, so lovely— Wolfwood, a traitor and a desperate man and so, so easy to forgive. Roberto and Meryl would yell at him for that, and Vash let that thought bring him some levity. There were constants, despite it all, and he held them tightly as the clock ticked closer to when Wolfwood would clock in.

They would decide what to do about his… corporate espionage. Vash was almost tempted to brush it under the rug, give Wolfwood a pay cut, and call it done. Unfortunately, Meryl (and then Roberto, post-colonoscopy) would have his head if he tried that. The bell above the door jingled, and a familiar mop of black hair walked in. Vash shot him a thin smile, which had Wolfwood looking away with a guilty grimace.

“So, the reckoning, huh…?” Wolfwood tried.

“Haha! Yeah!” Vash waved him to the back room. “I’ll be in after everyone leaves. Make sure Mer doesn’t kill you, haha!”

None of that landed right, and Vash felt like he was going even more stir crazy. Whatever. He just had to get through ten minutes and then turn the sign to closed and then talk about what to do about Wolfwood and then he’d close early for the day and that was that! It was only five things!

One of the teens, Kaite, sidled up to him, a frown tugging at his lips. “You good, Vash? Your employees piss you off?”

He blinked, plastering on a bright smile. Oops! Didn’t mean to seem upset! “Yeah, everything’s okay! Just tired after the trip, you know?”

“Right,” Kaite drawled, thoroughly unconvinced. “Well, lemme know if I need to get Ms. Rosa or Neon involved, ‘kay?”

“Oh, no need for that!” Vash said quickly, laughing nervously. The last thing he wanted was for them to get involved, good intentions be damned. They’d run Wolfwood out of town. And into the ground, probably. “We’ve got everything handled, don’t worry!”

Kaite narrowed his eyes, nodding slowly, and finally stepped away. Vash let out a breath he didn’t know he was holding, a sudden wave of exhaustion hitting him. This really was such a mess. Maybe if he’d just given in to Nai’s demands…

He shook his head, watching Kaite and his friends leave. Giving in would’ve just made everything worse for Jeneora, and he didn’t want to give Nai any more leeway for his questionable coffee enterprise. In Vash’s opinion, his current policies did not need to be expanded. At all.

Plus, a selfish part of Vash argued, their childhood dream had to mean something . The Saverem twins had to bring something good into this world— it wasn’t right to just take and take and take. That couldn’t be all they were good for.

All he was good for.

Eventually, all the customers left— ten minutes, as Vash had predicted. Most of them offered him a comforting smile, dropping a few double dollars into the tip jar. A kid even gave him a half-melted lollipop! Joy of joys, really. He flipped the sign around, popping the sucker in his mouth. It was horribly artificial and tasted more of sugar than anything else; he loved it. In fact, it brightened up his mood enough that he almost forgot about the walk through hell that awaited him.

The key word was, unfortunately, ‘almost.’ The back room’s air was thick, tense. Matching the room’s tension, Vash steeled himself and pushed open the door to Roberto’s little office. It reeked of smoke inside—no thanks to Wolfwood and Roberto being too lazy to go around back, to be sure—and had been meticulously organized in a patented Vash-proof way. Despite all that, he couldn’t even find it in himself to be upset about it; it was enough to distract him for a moment longer before he finally, finally had to face the typhoon that would be Meryl and Wolfwood.

Meryl had been more upset than Vash, all things considered. About Wolfwood, no less. And here Vash thought that she didn’t spare their undertaker any space in her brain! Come Monday morning, he’d woken up to no less than fifteen messages from her that were just telling him to pressure Wolfwood into quitting.

( [Mer!!]: vash we’re going to force wolfwood to quit

[Mer!!]: im so serious. You better not fire his sorry ass

[Mer!!]: i can see you typing vash. You better not be about to say something DUMB

[Vash Saverem]: y nt fr hm?

[Vash Saverem]: als prsrng hm 2 quits ilgl i thnk

[Mer!!]: i hate how you type, firstly. Maybe the more important thing is teaching you how to text like a normal person

[Mer!!]: don’t fire him because then you’ll owe him unemployment. AND YES, vash, this is illegal but what he did was corporate subterfuge and also just extremely, stunningly shitty behavior. I think you’re justified

[Mer!!]: He doesn’t deserve more of your money, time, attention, or energy, V. Do yourself a favor and let him go

[Mer!!]: In every sense of the word btw.

[Vash Saverem]: :/ wdnt o hm unmplymt n e way bc vilshn f cmpny plcy

[Mer!!]: don’t know what that says and I really don’t care. Make. Him. Quit.

[Mer!!]: We’ll talk about this more when he clocks in)

Never let it be said that he didn’t try to uphold good business practices! He offered the two of them a wide smile, immediately getting a scowl from Meryl and a deep frown from Wolfwood.

“Don’t even try,” Meryl snapped, flicking a few papers into order. Wolfwood just tilted his head, watching Vash over his sunglasses.

“That sorta smile don’t suit you, Spikes,” he murmured. “Looks painful, too.”

At that, Meryl thwacked him on the arm, the sound loud and crisp. Vash flinched in sympathy, but Wolfwood didn’t even look fazed, nodding like he expected that. Maybe he did, considering Meryl was consistently skewering him with her glares.

“Don’t you dare, Wolfwood,” she hissed. “I expected better from you. Selling out Vash to his own maniacal brother? How low can you get?”

Wolfwood just huffed, rolling his eyes, and Vash felt like a stranger in his own shop. “You shouldn’t expect anything from people like me, Missy.”

“It’s Meryl —”

“What do you mean, ‘people like you’?” Vash cut in, voice soft and tired as he leaned against the doorframe. “You’re not as bad as you think you are, Wolfwood. ‘People like you,’ as you so aptly put, do what they do because they have to, right?”

“Needles, you can’t be serious,” Wolfwood groaned as Meryl scoffed, “Vash! Be serious!”

He raised a brow. “Dead serious. You’re a good person who’s forcing himself to play the Devil. ‘People like you’ don’t do that for fun, Wolfwood.”

Frankly, Vash should start saving quarters for each time he can make Wolfwood and Meryl exchange unreadable glances in a conversation. He watched them argue silently for a minute, Meryl’s eyes wide and blazing, and Wolfwood’s narrowed and considering. Then, like a weight on his own shoulders, he watched them reach a consensus.

And, between those two, consensus was never a good thing.

“You’re full of shit, Needle-Noggin,” Wolfwood announced, bulldozing over Vash’s protests. “But, fine, you think I’m a good person. Idiotic, firstly, but secondly— secondly, good people need the consequences of their actions. Hit me.”

Vash grimaced. “I’m not hitting you. That’s assault and battery, and I don't really want to be sued for that. Not that— well, if it’s consensual—?”

“Vash! No!” Meryl sighed deeply, dragging a hand down her face. She looked sick of this conversation already. “He’s asking you to fire him. And remember what I said this morning?”

As if he’d forget Meryl’s tirade. Most of it was shockingly illegal, considering he was nearly certain that she and Roberto were trying to expose him for some sort of scandal too. Logically, she shouldn’t have been encouraging and aiding him with dubious employment practices. He couldn’t judge her too harshly for being a hypocrite, though. He’d made an exception with hiring Wolfwood that went directly against his own company policy, after all.

“Meryl, coercion is, like, really illegal,” he said, tugging off his glasses. The world always looked a little brighter after amber. “And besides, I don’t have to give him unemployment because of this one clause in the company policy.”

“The ‘don’t be working with Knives’ clause,” Wolfwood supplied after a moment of Meryl staring at them as if they’d grown two heads.

“You— You have that as a clause?” she asked, blinking up at Vash. “Since when? I don’t remember that during my hiring?”

“I added it after hiring Wolfwood, just in case someone else tried something like this. He was kinda, uh, grandfathered out. I guess,” he explained, shrugging. He also chose to gloss over the sudden, unsettled understanding in Wolfwood’s eyes at what that statement implied. “I guess technically, that may exempt him from policy violation, meaning that he’d get unemployment. But I’ll have to double check that with regional law.”

Meryl turned her fearsome gaze up at him at the same time that Wolfwood’s face darkened. Vash blinked, slowly holding his hands up. What was with their scary synchronicity today?

“No unemployment benefits!” they snapped, still in tandem. Meryl followed it up with: “Keep the rest of your dignity, you oaf!”

He frowned. “Ouch? I’m totally a dignified oaf, I’ll have you know. But, uh, if you really don’t want unemployment… I mean, I can not give it to you, but it feels wrong sending you off with no severance.”

Because he meant what he said, that people like Wolfwood only pretended to be the Devil because they had to. And he knew his brother, too: even if Nai wasn’t paying them c-cents, he was paying them something pretty damn close.

Really, even with Wolfwood being a mortician, accounting for his absurdly long daily commute left him with just a fraction of what he should’ve been able to save with either of his other jobs. It was no skin off of Vash’s back to give him an additional source of income and to have an extra pair of hands, even if it was just for the weekend. Plus, Wolfwood was basically an open book— Vash saw how stressed the man was whenever he got his paycheck. No one deserved to live like that, regardless of what he was doing with the money.

Meryl’s voice shook him out of his thoughts. “Okay, give him a single severance package and get it done with! Vash, this isn’t fair to you.”

“But is…” He sighed, turning to Wolfwood. He was chewing absentmindedly on a cigarette now, gazing into the middle distance. “Wolfwood, are you going to be okay?” 

He looked at him strangely, words muffled around the cigarette. “I should be the one asking you that.”

“Um, financially?” he clarified, rubbing the back of his head with his hand. Wolfwood tracked the movement with narrowed eyes, then shrugged.

“It’ll be fine.”

A non-answer.

“Look, I really don’t mind giving you unemployment benefits! If you need it, then just ask.”

Wolfwood clicked his tongue, reaching over to cuff him on the head— and then he stalled, letting his hand hover by Vash’s face for a moment before dropping it back to his side. Vash hated the aborted motion, he hated the fact that he was almost looking forward to getting cuffed on the head, just because it would mean that some things would remain at the end of the day.

“I’m not a damn charity case, Blondie,” Wolfwood growled. He was an open book, opened to the pages for false bravado. “Fire me and call it done.”

Well, now he wasn’t doing that. He crossed his arms, and Meryl groaned, walking over to shake him aggressively. Her hands were very cold; maybe he should invest in a space heater now that it was getting colder.

“Don’t argue, just this once,” she said sharply. “I can promise you that Roberto, Wolfwood, and I all want you to just do this . Come on, Vash.”

“You know what?” Wolfwood said suddenly, slapping his hands on his knees. “Lemme make this easier for you, Blondie: I quit.”

•••

It was dull after that. For all that Wolfwood was a mediocre employee — or, as Roberto often insisted, a bad one —, having him around made the place more lively. He was argumentative and petty and funny. It hadn’t even been three days since he quit, and Vash was already starting to notice the drag on Meryl. If a customer said something out of pocket, Meryl would turn to exchange glances with a man who wasn’t there. She would call out to a man who wasn’t there to ‘make sure that Vash ate— oh. Right.’ It was strange, having the specter of that man hanging around the shop.

Hell, even the customers—especially the regulars, which didn’t bode particularly well for Wolfwood’s continued presence in Jeneora—had noticed that he wasn’t there anymore. Rosa looked over Vash’s shoulder more than once, narrowing her eyes at the lack of his ‘ever present shadow,’ as she’d called Wolfwood. Kaite, too, seemed a little unsettled by how… peaceful the shop had become. No, not peaceful— quiet. He asked about Wolfwood a little more than casual interest would beget, considering how he’d been ready to sic the town’s own personal militia woman on him.

Days like this were always Vash’s least favorite. The hours seemed to drag on, a never ending chore list replacing the never ending stream of commentary his coworkers used to have, and the shadow at his back was nowhere to be found. Even the happy shoegaze playlist and the lively chatter of rush hour couldn’t salvage his mood. He bit back his hundredth sigh of the day, rounding the counter with a tray of steaming coffee mugs, mind wandering through cotton and gauze.

The bell above the door chimed sweetly. Vash slapped on a cheery smile, turning to greet the customer.

“Busy day, Typhoon?” his voice asked.

The tray of coffee mugs slipped from his hand, ceramic shattering against tile and metal clattering against concrete. This— this wasn’t supposed to happen. Nai wasn’t supposed to know where he was, and he certainly wasn’t supposed to show up to Vash’s goddamn shop . He felt the blood drain from his face as the talking around him ceased, all eyes on him and his brother.

It wasn’t supposed to be like this, this was supposed to be Vash’s little corner of the world in his brother’s empire, he was supposed to be kept a secret , and—

That was the issue, wasn’t it? That Vash was this town’s worst kept secret, that he’d only moved twice since Wolfwood quit. And he knew better than to trust Wolfwood how he had, he did, but maybe… maybe a little of him had hoped that he’d be proved wrong. He rarely ever was, when it came to the things that mattered, but what did he have other than hope. The answer certainly wasn’t his goddamn brother in his shop .

Nai smiled, something bland and cold behind it. Vash had seen that expression thousands of times, but so few times had it ever been directed towards him . He sucked in a sharp breath, stiffening. Nai took a step closer, ceramic crunching under his dress shoes.

“A little bug told me,” he drawled, ice cold, “that you’ve been running from me, little brother.”

They were twins. There was no matter of older or younger— Nai had come out of the womb clutching his heel. Vash bit his tongue.

“What makes you say that, Nai?”

“Oh, you know. The constant moving around, refusing to talk about the business we are both in—” Vash bit his tongue again; they weren’t in the same business by a long shot, “—and hiding this part of your life from your own brother .”

“Sorry,” he said, not sure if he meant it. Maybe he meant part of it: that he’d shut his twin brother out of his life, that he’d had to keep secrets from his other half. Maybe he didn’t even mean that. “I just figured—”

Nai scoffed. “You always ‘figure,’ Vash, and you always figure wrong . You’re reckless, irresponsible, and too soft to run a successful business.”

The whispers of the patrons rose in tandem with Nai’s voice. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw one of his regulars, Marianne, propping her phone against her coffee mug, recording everything. He couldn’t even ask her to stop, lest his brother’s attention turn on her .

“I think I’m doing just fine, brother dear!” Vash chirped, voice high and bright in the way that always made Meryl cringe and Wolfwood— “I’m turning a profit, actually.”

Nai raised a brow, crossing his arms. “Is it a profit, or is it simply that you’re breaking even and being left with some extra?”

“That’s the definition—”

“When should you ever go by a definition, Typhoon?” his brother hissed, taking another step forward, then another and another until they were nose to nose. “Definitions are bare minimums at a time like this. Breaking even isn’t good enough , brother. You have more potential than some measly pop-up coffee shop, and yet you squander it in favor of serving a tiny little nowhere town.”

Vash bristled, shoving his brother away. “You don’t get to say that! You haven’t left JuLai in years! Our goals are different—”

Like always, Nai interrupted him. Like always, Vash shut his mouth and lowered his gaze to a glower. When Nai spoke, his voice dripped with condescension. “ Why are they different, brother? Because you’re too childish to see that your little dream of making ‘energy’ more accessible is failing because you refuse to work with the one person that can make it happen? Because you don’t want to acknowledge that these people will leave Love and Coffee behind in a heartbeat, if given a more convenient option?”

His brother leaned in, venomous. “And do remember, Typhoon. You aren’t that option.”

“Then let them leave!” Vash snapped. His voice pitched up, watery. “And I’ll just find the next group of people who need me, and when they leave, I’ll find the next! Nai, I want to serve my community, and it doesn’t matter how many times I have to move to find it! I’ll do it over and over again.”

Nia tsked, rolling his eyes. “And I’m not going to deny you that. Selling Love and Coffee to me would only secure your ability to ‘serve your community’ or whatever other ideal you’ve made such a mess for.”

Whatever other ideal? Vash gaped at his brother, a twins’ promise of progress sitting heavy on his bones, dripping like rotten honey over his tongue. And here his twin was, the other half of their promise, diminishing a dream to a simple ‘ideal.’

“Economic guarantee and some policy changes are a small price to pay to continue doing… whatever this is,” Nai sniffed haughtily.

The murmurs surrounding them had risen to a roaring whisper. Meryl was lingering by the backroom, her face white as a sheet. She was watching the exchange between Vash and his brother with a deep crease in her brow, the sort that told Vash that she’d finally found whatever evidence she’d been searching for this entire time, and that she didn’t like it. People never did, when they found the heart beneath the Saverems’ floorboards.

“I think,” Vash said, voice teetering on desperate hysteria, “you have fundamentally misunderstood my business model. It isn’t just a community service project, Nai. It’s an answer to all the corporations like yours, showing them that we can give people good coffee without having to hurt others to do it. It’s a big ol’ ‘fuck you’ to companies that overcharge people for a tiny cup of coffee.”

Nai laughed, big and loud like he never did, and sharp and cutting like he always did. “That’s a cute sentiment, Typhoon. Too bad that it’s unsustainable .”

“Actually, my providers—”

“ For you, brother. You’re going to go bankrupt at this rate. You’ll run yourself dry and into the ground if you keep trying to make people happy like this.” Nai sneered. “And then who’ll care about ‘unsustainability’, brother?”

Vash’s eye twitched. “Plenty of people. I’m not selling Love and Coffee to you, Knives! The Eye goes against everything that I stand for—” that our mother stood for , he didn’t say, “—and your so-called business ethics make Tesla’s injury settlement look like a damn joke.”

He knew, as soon as the words left his mouth, that that was the wrong thing to say. Nai’s face darkened, and in the blink of an eye, he was shoving him. Hard. Vash stumbled back, bringing his arms up to stabilize himself or protect himself— anything. Nai didn’t let up, stalking towards him until his back was against the counter and his patrons were standing up, ready to intervene. He shook his head, swallowing thickly.

“Don’t you— How dare you— Our own sister? ” Nai barked, shaking him roughly. Vash wrenched his hands off of his shoulders, scowling. 

Over Nai’s shoulder, Vash saw the patrons pause, glancing amongst each other, mouthing ‘sister’? That spelled damnation. He flinched.

“You’re bringing up our sister in all of this, as if she isn’t the reason we’re here at all?! And you’re saying that what I’m doing — for you two, no less! — is worse than what happened to her?” Nai asked incredulously.

Hiding his disregard for ethics behind a veneer of care was cheap . Vash barked out a mean laugh, glaring at his brother.

“Oh yeah? What do you think she thinks of what you don’t tell her, brother?” he sniped, watching the twitch in Nai’s forehead vein. “What do you think Rem would think?”

Because he knew what Rem would think. She would think that her son had forgotten what all made him good, she would think that he’d lost sight of what mattered, she would think that she failed in raising him. And that was a disservice that neither of them would do to her.

“Rem is dead, Vash,” Nai hissed, all teeth and anger. “It doesn’t matter what she would think, and you shouldn’t care anymore. Why do you live by a dead woman’s words?”

Vash’s jaw dropped open. “How— What? Why— I— What happened to you, Nai?”

And, for the first time, when he looked into his brother’s eyes, he couldn’t see the person he knew. Just this angry, hurt shell of what he used to know.

“I grew up, Vash,” he said simply, drawing back as if nothing had happened. “And it’s about time that you did as well.”

It was silent for an awfully long minute, his brother’s words rattling around in his mind. I grew up, he’d said; I left us behind , he didn’t say. Nai was readjusting his dress shirt, a starched powder blue number, when one of the younger kids bumped into him while trying to sneak by, spilling some of her drink on his slacks.

Nai spun around, lip curled in disgust as the kid yelped, scrambling away. “You little brat —”

“Don’t you fucking dare,” Vash said softly, clapping a hand on his brother’s shoulder and wrenching him back around, “talk to my patrons like that. Especially not a kid.”

Nai shoved him away, and he grunted as he hip-checked the counter. “She spilled her drink on me.”

Vash was getting very, very tired of this. He grabbed Nai’s wrist with his prosthetic, squeezing just this side of too hard as he gave him a strained smile. “That doesn’t make any of your behaviour okay.”

“You son of a bitch, let me go!” his brother yelled, twisting his arm out of his grasp, slapping him. “You— Is this how you treat your own brother? You’re unbelievable, Stampede.”

Vash’s cheek stung, red and raw. He brought up his prosthetic hand, the cool metal soothing against his smarting cheek. He was vaguely aware of the commotion around them—Meryl’s concerned yelp, the protesting from the patrons, the kid’s blubbering apologies—, but his attention was focused on his brother’s scowl, nothing but indignation in those icy eyes. Nai’s palm was red, too, and he curled his fist. He tried to hide the flinch from Vash, but there wasn’t much you could hide from your own brother.

Even as his brother turned and left.

It felt like time froze with the sense of sheer loss settling itself in his marrow, until Marianne managed to get his attention.

“I called the police, Mr. Saverem,” she said stiffly, the name Saverem clunky on her tongue. She’d never called him anything but Vash before. “We’re all your witnesses, of course.”

Vash took a shaky breath, lungs burning, and gave her a fragile smile. Rem’s voice came back to him for a moment, a perfect memory of the first time he’d won a medal for a sprint.

Go, Stampede! Go!

So he, too, turned and ran.

Chapter Text

Four days, 10 hours, and 23 minutes after Vash disappeared from the face of the planet, Meryl Stryfe woke up to a message from Zazie Adder. Her phone buzzed at a crisp 6:43 AM, pulling her from the syrupy haze of sleepiness. She grumbled as she pushed herself onto her elbows, mood already ruined by the scratchy sheets of the Bernardelli living accommodations. It wasn’t even seven in the morning. She picked up the phone.

[Zazie Adder - EoM]: Good Morning Meryl Stryfe

She sniffed, rolling onto her back to text more easily.

[Meryl]: Good morning. Are we still on for the interview today?

[Zazie Adder - EoM]: Sure Are but i have a proposition for you

[Zazie Adder - EoM]: smile emoji

Okay. Meryl frowned, narrowing her eyes at the text. They were an odd texter who said very odd things, apparently. 

[Meryl]: Okay?

[Zazie Adder - EoM]: interview at my house because i want to show you certain Things and also i Know Things

Well, that wasn’t ominous at all! She didn’t doubt that they “knew things,” being the head of security and on the PR staff and all, but she wasn’t sure that she wanted to know what those things were. Though, on the off chance that they knew something about Vash and Knives’s little spat, or about Vash’s whereabouts…

She was never one to miss a lead, after all.

[Meryl]: Sounds good. Just be ready to extend the interview as needed.

[Zazie Adder - EoM]: We Are Always Ready, Meryl Stryfe

That was enough of that . Meryl tossed her phone away, feeling mildly unsettled by the strange conversation. But having the interview confirmed was promising, regardless of if it was information about Mike’s scandals or Vash’s whereabouts— or his shop, she suddenly remembered. They still had that case open.

It felt odd to keep it open, though, considering the shop had been so empty for the days after Vash left that she and Roberto didn’t even bother opening it today. It was a slight to Vash, she knew, but doing his work without him… it wasn’t right. And with Knives’s unholy presence still haunting them, closing the shop indefinitely felt like the better choice.

It left her days uncomfortably open, though. The interview wasn’t until later today, and Roberto was going to the shop to do the paperwork for the indefinite closure and to balance the books. Sure, that gave her time to organize the evidence they’d gathered about Vash’s business, but even that was shaping up to be a testament to how, given his stunningly horrible accounting skills, he was lucky that he managed to make a profit. Not a single crime in sight from him.

Though, that did leave the matter of Knives. Unbidden, her mind wandered back to that one conversation with Wolfwood. He seemed flabbergasted by the idea of Vash committing crimes or running a mafia front, but he was quick to veer from the topic of Knives doing so. Too quick.

Avoidance was his tell, and Meryl hated that she knew him well enough to know that. But it was no matter. He’d said — or hadn’t said, perhaps — enough to give Meryl the feeling they’d found the next corporate scandal case. It would serve Knives well, if nothing else, to be put in the wrong sort of limelight.

A few minutes later, she figured she had had enough scheming for it being barely seven in the morning. With a groan, she rolled out of bed and got ready for a day with no sunshine nor shadows. It would suck.

•••

Zazie’s house seemed almost too normal from the outside. Their lawn was perfectly mowed, even in the middle of fall, and the front porch was meticulously clean. The path from the driveway to the house was lined with inoffensive frog statues and a singular gnome. There was even a lawn flamingo, despite it very much not being flamingo season. In her experience, anyone who had lawn flamingos and garden gnomes was to be approached with caution, and Zazie… well, to say that she didn’t trust this house or its owner at all would be an understatement.

Readjusting the messenger bag slung across her shoulder and sparing a glance at a tactfully placed dragonfly statue, she pressed the doorbell. She was met with a joyfully bland, jaunty jingle. Why Zazie of all people chose to live as the picture perfect suburbanite was beyond her; Meryl, for one, much preferred the bustle of the city.

Zazie swung the door open immediately, grinning a little maniacally. “Meryl Stryfe! Fancy seeing you here!”

“...We planned this. At your house,” she pointed out, a little creeped out by their perpetual smile. “Are we doing this outside?”

“Oh, no, absolutely not!” They sounded offended at even the idea of an outdoor interview, as if they were above that. Their improperly timed flamingo decor begged to differ, but she digressed. “Come in, come in. Shoes off outside. Watch your step :) otherwise you’ll get it :)”

How did they do that with their mouth? Meryl thought. And what does that mean?  

“Sure,” she said instead of voicing any of the dozens of questions she had, toeing off her shoes. “Lead the way.”

That particular allowance turned out to be the worst decision Meryl ever made. Even worse, perhaps, than thinking Nicholas D. Wolfwood was ever a decent man. Zazie apparently took that as permission to take the longest, most tortuous route to their kitchen known to man, making sure to introduce each one of their freaky little creepy crawlies.

(“This is Bobert the Millipede!” they announced, dumping the sweater-clad bug straight onto Meryl’s sleeve. She shrieked, shaking her arm violently. They paid no mind to her distress, continuing on about Bobert the Millipede as if he looked any different from Robert the Centipede and Steve the Silverfish.

Thankfully, after spending far too long waxing poetic about Bobert’s incredible walking speed, they finally liberated Meryl from his onslaught. Only to immediately deposit Michael Jon the Polyphemus Moth directly in her hair. It took all of her self-control to not crush that thing into pieces; Zazie was a valuable enough informant that she had to restrain herself from raining hellfire on these bastards.)

In fact, even in the kitchen Meryl wasn’t safe! There were little buzzing things everywhere that Zazie insisted weren’t bees, but they sure as hell looked like them. Meryl squirmed in her seat, flinching as one not-bee buzzed menacingly past her ear.

“So,” they said cheerfully, sliding a cup of pink liquid across the counter. One dragonfly lazily circled their head. “Ever had Rooh Afza?”

“What?” she asked, intending to sound normal and totally comfortable in a human (?) inhabited household (?). Unfortunately, her voice came out high and warbly and definitely not comfortable.

“Rooh Afza!” they repeated, not clarifying anything. Then, in one swift go, they picked up their own glass and chugged it. Meryl watched with a horrified sort of fascination as they slammed down the glass, sighing contentedly. “That’s the stuff.”

“Is this alcoholic?” she asked after a moment, frowning at the red-pink liquid. “I can’t drink on the job.”

“Of course it’s not alcoholic, Meryl Stryfe.” They sniffed, offended. “I’m classy. Where do we wanna start?”

She chose not to comment on the fact that their class seemed to consist of having multiple ongoing infestations in their house and seemingly naming every single bug they come across. Taking out her notebook and voice recorder, she tentatively took a sip of the concoction Zazie had given her. She hummed, pleasantly surprised at the taste: it was gently floral — maybe rose? — and sweet. Not so sweet that her mouth felt coated, but sweet enough to reinvigorate her.

“This is good,” she admitted, placing the glass back down far more gently than Zazie did. “Alright, let’s start with Knives and the Eye of Michael.”

She clicked on the recorder, pencil at the ready for whatever dirt Zazie had on them. Exposing their corruption was the least she could do; it may not bring Vash back, but at least it’d give him some peace of mind.

Zazie opened their mouth, eyes deathly serious, and spoke. “Mike.”

Meryl could have sworn she heard her pencil crack with how hard she was holding it.

“Anyway,” they continued, suddenly bright and peppy again. “Let’s start with Knives: he’s our boss and the union leader, and he also purposefully makes paying union dues really, really hard. Like, only Legato ever manages to pay them on time. He also penalizes you if you don’t pay them on time, by the way. He just takes a portion out of your check, actually. I take home, like, $$55,000, but I make $$65,000. Legato makes $$169,420, by the way. It’s like Andrew Jackson’s spoils system. Straight evil.

“Knives also hires college kids off the street and on campus networking events, pays them minimum wage, and overworks them. In fact, he does it on campus org Discord servers and offers them $$10,000 to work for him. He usually gets banned immediately, but it’s the thought that counts. Actually, he underpays everyone. That’s why Woowoo works three jobs and acts like an alcoholic single father. But you knew that.”

Did she? Meryl was suddenly beginning to doubt everything she had ever known. Does Wolfwood have kids? Is that why he kept flirting with Vash? To get another parent for his kids?

Zazie was still going. May God have mercy on her poor, dearly departed soul. “Let’s see… he also uses slave labour for his coffee farms. I think he took inspiration from this company that we can’t name, but we’re sure you know exactly what we’re thinking of. Just so that we’re not on record.”

1. They were very much on record.
2. Who the hell is we?

“Oh! He also uses some Mike shops to hustle drugs locally! I don’t really care to remember what drugs or which shops or which employees, but it sure does happen! I’m pretty sure he increased the hospitalization rates single handedly in Mei City and April. By the way, Vash and Knives share a social security number. Just thought you should know.”

Meryl blinked, pencil veering dangerously off the page and almost straight into her thigh. Her notes were a complete mess, but that didn’t matter right now. She stared wide-eyed at Zazie, their creepy little dragonfly clip staring back at her with its beady eyes.

“How does that even happen ?!” she shrieked, the words emphasized by a sharp cracking sound. Yep, that was definitely the end of this pencil. “How the heck did they end up sharing a social security number?”

Zazie hummed, rubbing their chin like a thoughtful old man. “Well, as far as I know from—off the record, by the way—”

This was still fully on the record.

“—snooping in Knives’s file cabinets in his mock Saw room, when he and Vash were theoretically adopted from France, they weren’t registered in the system properly and it ended up assigning them one shared social security number. So that’s why Knives uses their shared SSN to launder money! Add a lack of social security to his list of sins, actually.”

“They’re French…” Meryl muttered under her breath. She could hear her Vietnamese ancestors tutting in disgust and disappointment. “Wait. He’s the one laundering money?”

Zazie raised a brow. “What, you thought Vash Valentinez Alkalinella Xifax Sicidabohertz Gumbigobilla Blue Stradivari Talentrent Pierre Andres Charton-Haymoss Ivanovicci Baldeus George Doitzel Kaiser Saverem III was doing the money laundering?”

“Off the record—” Meryl clicked off the recorder. She couldn’t feel anything. She was numb. “What the hell is that name?”

“His name.”

“His legal, God-given—”

“I’m pretty sure the Saverems were raised atheist, so there’s no God involved here. Knives did end up pretty biblical, though.”

“They— okay. But that was his legal, not God-given but still significant name?”

“Yeah.”

Maybe the Saverems really were vampires. Who has that long of a name without being born in the 1800s?

“Okay then. I think I need to—”

Zazie pushed her glass of Rooh Afza toward her, eyes narrowed. “You need to finish your drink. It’ll fix you.”

Fix her? She was the weird one in all of this? Meryl felt something break inside her and had the sudden urge to also schedule a colonoscopy, if only because it meant escape from this strange hell that she ended up in.

Instead, she sipped at her Rooh Afza and clicked the recorder back on. “Anyway. Knives is laundering money and using their shared SSN to do it. With Eye shops as the front. Anything else?”

Zazie’s eyes darkened, and when they spoke, it sounded like someone had killed their precious Bobert, Robert, and Steve. And Michael Jon. “The rainbow capitalism.”

“The— isn’t that the one thing that the Eye of Michael is, like, well-liked for? That their queer-friendly policies are genuine and not just performative?”

“I mean, sure, to some extent,” Zazie said, wrinkling their nose in disgust. “They’ve got good healthcare, eye, and dental for everyone, and queer people get additional protections, but, like. Have you seen Legato and Knives? Just existed in their vicinity for more than two seconds?”

Okay. “Okay. That’s fair. I get it. Rainbow capitalism is another corporate sin,” she muttered, jotting down the last of the notes with her broken pencil. The tip of it stabbed through the paper as she put a period at the end of the sentence. Whoops. “Nothing else, I hope?”

“Nothing on Mike or Knives in the business sense,” Zazie said, waggling their eyebrows conspiratorially. That was a sign to turn off the recording device if she’d ever seen one.

She clicked the end recording button and sighed heavily. “How is he still in business—”

Meryl cut herself off, recoiling in horror as something many-legged and probably many-eyed began crawling up her arm and under her sleeve. She shook her arm as hard as she could, yelling at Zazie to shut up between horrified shrieks. In fact, this was officially the worst experience she’d ever had; even worse than that time where her boss at the beginning of her internship reprimanded her in front of all of her coworkers for something she didn’t even do. It was actually some other girl’s fault, and that’s probably why she had a grudge against most blonds.

“Don’t flail around so much!” Zazie snapped, grabbing her shoulder with a weirdly strong grip. “You’ll crush Sir Humphry Jane Charton-Haymoss VIII, you brute!”

“Sir Humphry Jane Charton-Haymoss VIII?!” she wailed, shedding her jacket and oh god , Sir Humphry Jane Charton-Haymoss VIII was right fucking there . Zazie leapt across the counter, twisting her arm just enough to get at their damn caterpillar. She screeched as they pulled it off, its grubby little legs adhering a bit too much for her taste.

“Ugh, you’re so rude to my babies,” Zazie scoffed, examining Sir Humphry Jane Charton-Haymoss VIII with a critical eye. Meryl scowled, curling up as well as she could on the barstool. No more bugs would be crawling up her clothes today, no sir. “You’re lucky I still want to tell you the office tea. Scalding hot.”

“I’m not interested in ‘office tea,’” she snapped. “I want to know what happened to Vash.”

“Oh, Legato thinks Knives had a hit placed on him,” they said casually, shrugging. “Hehe :)”

“Knives did what?! ” Also, seriously, how were they doing that with their mouth? ‘:)’?

“Girlie, dissect my phrasing,” Zazie sighed. “Legato thinks Knives had a hit placed on Vash.”

Okay. Okay, dissect the phrasing. Meryl could do that: she went through school for this. Zazie Adder, in their offhanded comments to Meryl Stryfe — a friend of Vash Saverem’s — implies that Vash is dead and that Knives had him killed. Zazie is well-known for being a deceiving, conniving little shit and tends to use the world’s worst metaphors, so Meryl should take this with a grain of salt. Additionally, despite everything Knives has ever done or will ever do, he seems to actually love his brother, so it is unlikely that Zazie’s accusation is true. On top of that, their source is Legato; he is the worst source anyone could cite. He is also extraordinarily jealous of Vash simply for existing. In fact, he might be experiencing reaction formation regarding him. All of this points to the conclusion that Zazie is straight up lying and that their metaphor is unsound. About Vash being dead, not about Legato’s belief that Knives would ever kill his own brother. [1]

“Okay, so Legato is stupid and you’re spreading misinformation. Regular happenings,” she sighed. “I don’t— I mean, what does that have to do with anything actually about Vash? His whereabouts, his well being, all of that?”

Zazie shrugged, petting Sir Humphry Jane Charton-Haymoss VIII with utmost gentleness (Meryl decided to not tell them that they were petting their finger). “Knives did install a tracker on his newfangled phone. The security department can probably reactivate it.”

A tracker? That guy really was paranoid; it explained Vash’s caginess about his new phone, though. She wouldn’t want her stalkerish twin brother stalking her either. But that wasn’t all there was to Zazie’s sentence because of course it wasn’t. The freak loved to speak in riddles. What they were implying suddenly hit her, though, and she gasped, pointing at them.

“You! You're the head of security, aren’t you? You can find him!”

They grinned. “I can. For the right price.”

“Name it.”

“A recording of what, exactly, happens when Woowoo and Vash see each other again.”

Meryl raised a brow, holding her hand out. “Deal.”

•••

Perhaps Roberto should have been more concerned when he got a message from the newbie saying that “vash isn’t doing the money laundering, check his inheritance and ssn” after all the effort they went through to put Love and Coffee on indefinite hiatus. Pray tell, how was he supposed to check someone’s social security?

Still, he supposed a lead was a lead. Tucking the keys to the self-storage into his pocket, he wandered out of the motel with a cigarette in his mouth. It was one of the shitty ones Wolfwood smoked because he was too cheap to buy decent cigs; usually, Roberto would toss the misplaced pack out without a second thought, but a free cig was a free cig. That didn’t cancel out the sheer loathing he felt for the guy, of course, but it was something! The free cig points were cancelled out by the guy’s lack of socks, though. That was just utterly ridiculous.

The lackluster fall chill was beginning to creep in, meaning Roberto had to switch out his summer jacket for his spring jacket. He really hated the desert, honestly: no proper chill and far too much heat. It also meant that he was in an extra bad mood when his thoughts eventually drifted to Vash and his little shop. Meryl had filled him in eventually, albeit after getting a few too many shots in her. It was a barely coherent explanation with more tears than words, but it was enough.

It was very, very bold of Knives to claim to love his brother as much as he did and then pull shit like that . It was more like he loved the idea of Vash more than the person, Roberto mused, exhaling a cloud of bitter smoke. That was the only way someone could justify tearing apart everything their loved one worked for. In memory of their late mother, no less.

But it wasn’t just Knives who spat all over that. No, Nicholas fucking Wolfwood had to get his spit in too. Roberto didn’t make a habit of beating himself up for mistakes: it didn’t help anything and only made him more miserable. This mistake, however, was worth ruminating over. How the hell could he have been so blind? Almost fifty-something years on this goddamn planet, and the one time he ignored his gut, this was the mess they were left with. He hadn’t trusted Wolfwood from the start, wary of the way he leered at Vash and eyed the shop like it made him uncomfortable. He knew Vash saw all of that too, and Meryl undoubtedly picked up on the tension. And yet, none of them did anything about it because they didn’t think Wolfwood was actually a threat to Vash fucking Saverem.

Lotta good that did them, handing that sort of trust out to that sort of man. Roberto stubbed out the cigarette on the sole of his shoe, tossing it into a nearby trash can. Whole lotta good.

The storage unit was the cheapest thing he and Meryl could afford on their own salaries, considering the circumstances would be an awkward ordeal to explain to the higher ups. The cheapness showed, though, with the way Roberto had to jam the key into the lock. And then jam his shoulder against the door to even get it open. Someone needed to attack those damn hinges with WD-40.

The storage room also smelled musty, which boded extremely well for all of Vash’s papers and Roberto’s extensive bookkeeping. Oh well. He kicked the side of one of the janky filing cabinets for good luck, tugging it open. These were all of Vash’s personal finances and papers which, for some ungodly reason, he left in his office instead of at home. It made Roberto’s job easier, if he ignored the fact that apparently, before disappearing, Vash messed up his filing again. After a few minutes of increasingly hopeless searching, he finally came up with his copy of Vash’s mother’s will and his social security information. Who the hell kept their social security card in their damn office? When Roberto got around to seeing Vash again, that kid was in for the scolding of a lifetime.

With a sigh, Roberto pulled out his phone and dialed his intern. She’d ended up passing out immediately after screeching his ear off about bugs, and Roberto decided against telling her that there was, in fact, a caterpillar hanging onto the back of her jacket. That was a problem he wanted no part of. Surprisingly, Meryl picked up on the third ring; he’d expected to have to call her at least another two times.

“ Wheh? ” she mumbled, barely coherent.

“I’m holding Puppy’s copy of the will and his social security card,” he said in lieu of a greeting. “Why do we care about this, though?”

“ M’oh yeah, ” Meryl yawned. Fabric rustled on her side of the line as she presumably rolled around. “ ‘Pparently Knives and Vash share an SSN because of something going wrong with their adoption process. And Zazie implied that Knives was using their shared SSN for the money laundering, which is why Vash’s finances seemed so weird. Also, I’m pretty sure Vash was able to keep Love and Coffee running because of his crazy big inheritance, which is why those abysmal profit margins didn’t bother him. ”

Roberto raised a brow. Okay, sure, why not. “And we’re trusting Zazie because…?”

“ I’m, like, 90% sure their freaky little insects are spies, sir. Also, Wolfwood implied that Knives is involved in some sort of scandal, and considering the shared SSN and crazy inheritances, I think it’s safe to assume that the ‘scandal’ is money related. ”

Was this warm feeling in his chest pride? Was he actually proud of an intern for using their brain? This was a once in a lifetime occurrence! Meryl Stryfe, she done did him proud!

“As you say, Newbie,” he groused. “Well, both definitely exist. I’ll bring them back and compare them to his bank statements. I think we’ve got a new case on our hands, though.”

Meryl hummed, the evil smile clear in her voice. “ We sure do. ”

Chapter Text

Wolfwood stared at the pantry, hands on his hips. His brain was currently being pulled in two directions by virtue of Zazie having his number. Apparently, they’d decided that texting him at 3:24 AM was an acceptable thing to do. On top of that, the topic of the horrifically rambly text was Vash , of all things. He— okay, admittedly, he’d been morbidly curious about Vash’s well-being after being gently let go, but it was just curiosity! Nothing else! He figured he had the right to be curious, actually, considering Knives’s horrible demeanour about… everything.

He sighed, pulling out the packet of semolina and checking the expiration date. Alright, they were good to go on that at least. One less thing to worry about; he could make upma in his sleep. What he clearly shouldn’t do was respond to Zazie half asleep, but it was a bit late for that. The five sobbing emojis, ten frowny faces, three grimacing emojis, two thinking emojis, and the singular needle-and-thread emoji really didn’t do much for his image of general sanity. Wolfwood didn’t even know why this was getting to him this much. He knew exactly what he signed up for when he took that raise, but now he just— he couldn’t stop thinking about the way Vash’s face fell, anger and betrayal flashing in his eyes before he put on that fucked up smile of his. He expected that reaction, he knew it was coming. It didn’t make anything easier.

Regardless, it was now 6:15 AM (Wolfwood did not think about the fact that he used to wake up this early to go for his morning shifts at the café), and he had to get started on breakfast if he wanted the kids to eat on time. Which he really did, because the second part of Zazie’s text told him to text Meryl. Which he’d done at 3:42 AM, probably making use of far too many Vash-esque emojis for his comfort; he didn’t know, of course, considering he didn’t proofread a single text. At least this way when Meryl killed him, he’d die knowing the kids were well-fed. He pulled out an onion, ginger, a few stray veggies, and some chilis that were on their last legs, slicing them up with more force than was strictly necessary. That was between him and God, though.

At least while cooking, even if it was a dish he knew like the back of his hand, he could turn his brain off for a moment. Tragic thoughts and wistful what-ifs be damned, he had to make sure he didn’t accidentally make the upma too spicy for his kids. Then he really couldn’t forgive himself. It was nice, rhythmic and familiar: chop and slice, dump into the pan, sauté, repeat. He could get lost in the motions, kinda like he’d do at the café— okay, that was enough of that. The upma was nearly ready, and his phone had gone off about three dozen times in the 45 minute time span.

Before dealing with a thoroughly pissed off Meryl, though, he had to deal with his half-asleep zombies. Maylene toddled into the kitchen, holding Adelaide’s pudgy little hand and rubbing sleep from her eyes. Despite his best efforts (which were really quite lackluster), a smile spread across his face.

“Hi honeys,” he said softly, picking up Adelaide as she crawled over as fast as she could. “Sleep well?”

“Mhm,” Maylene hummed sleepily, grabbing onto his leg and hugging it. “Woowy, what’d you make?”

“It’s like… savory, kinda spicy porridge,” he said after a moment, running a hand through her hair. How Maylene managed to always get her hair in tangles while sleeping was a mystery above his pay grade, but he’d detangle it later just the same. “It’s good. Easy to eat.”

Maylene wrinkled her nose, blinking up at him. “Spicy?”

“I did make a separate batch for you, mittu ,” [1] he sighed. “So picky.”

She blew a raspberry at him. Ungrateful little brats.

Adelaide tugged on his hair, doing her best to chew on it, and he sighed again. “Why do you do this, paava? Nee enthinaanu appozhum ante mudi thinnunnathu, hm?” [2]

She responded in baby babble. How insightful.

Of course, the other kids couldn’t let his sweet girls have all his attention, and the little trio of April, May, and June stampeded into the kitchen. Wolfwood looked behind them, raising a brow. Seemed like their brother, November, didn’t bother coming to the kitchen today. Maylene whined, making grabby hands for him, and he hefted her up on the counter so that she could cling to his shoulder while Adelaide continued on her quest to get his rosary into her mouth. The teething phase was truly a nightmare.

“Well, well, well. If it isn’t the Callender kids,” he sighed dramatically, ruffling April and June’s hair in turn, May already wandering off to stare bug-eyed at the pot of upma. “What brings you three in today? I hope you’re not trying to sneak the cookies that Miss Mel told you you couldn’t have.”

May whipped around, pouting. “No fair! When you used to bring sweets from Mr. Needle Noggin, we could always have those! Why can’t we have these?”

“It’s seven in the morning, kalla ,” [3] he said tiredly. He glossed over the fact that Miss Melanie refused to let the kids have all of the cookies because they were the last pastries Vash gave to him before everything went to hell, and he made the mistake of letting that slip to Melanie and Livio over a few too many vodka shots. A mistake to never repeat, for sure.

June jumped in the middle of their stare-off, pointing at Adelaide. “I wanna play with Addy.”

“After breakfast.”

“Woowy!”

“Uh-uh, that’s not gonna work. Quit giving me those puppy eyes,” he scolded, narrowing his own eyes. “My, uh— friend. Had more effective puppy eyes than you, June Bug.”

The pout she gave him was enough to rival any of Vash’s, though. Still, he didn’t budge: breakfast first, baby time later. Finally, always the most timid of the Mischief Makers — which really meant that she wasn’t particularly timid at all —, April tugged on his free hand.

“Hm?”

“Can we have those long things with the— the—” She cut herself off, looking up at him. “What’d you make?”

“Upma. It’s like savory porridge.”

“Umpma,” she repeated, nodding very seriously. “Can we have the long things with the umpma?”

He chuckled, ruffling her hair again. “What’s the magic word?”

April rolled her eyes, so very full of attitude. Wonder where she got that from. Probably Livio, the brat. “Abracadabra.”

“ Appu.”

“ Ugh , fine! Please can we have the long things with the umpma?” And, to really emphasize how much she wanted the ‘long things’ with the ‘umpma,’ she even batted her eyes.

Wolfwood pretended to give it serious thought for a moment, pretending like he hadn’t caved in the first three seconds. By now, all three Mischief Makers and Maylene — Adelaide was, of course, excluded by virtue of trying to now eat his ear — were looking at him hopefully. He heaved out a melodramatic sigh, nodding.

“I guess you can,” he drawled, picking the half-empty packet from the top shelf and tossing it to April. She cheered like she’d just won the lottery, which, with how finicky he could be with giving into their demands, she might have. “Find Miss Melanie and tell her that I’m asking for her, then sit nicely at the table. And— hey, hey! June bug and May beetle! Don’t let me find out that you guys gave all your peas to Addy again, otherwise you’re helping me with laundry duty.”

They gasped as if that was the worst threat Wolfwood could have ever made (it was, actually, considering how humid the laundry room got) and nodded frantically, zooming off to claim their seats in the mess hall. He sighed, shaking his head.

“Alright, mittu [1], you gotta go sit down too,” he murmured, nudging her. Maylene whined, wiggling closer to him again. “Baby, I need to get breakfast out before the kids eat each other.”

“Mmmno! I’m comfy!”

“Honey, please,” he sighed, nudging her again. “Take Addy and go sit down.”

“Woowy!”

A knock on the doorframe caught both of their attentions, and Maylene immediately hopped off the counter as Melanie leveled her with a Look. “What’d we say about bothering Nicholas when he’s busy?”

“To not do it,” she mumbled, staring at her feet. “Sorry, Miss Melanie.”

“Thank you for the apology, but I’m not the one you should say sorry to,” Melanie said firmly, and for a moment, it felt like Wolfwood was getting a very familiar lecture all over again. It was just something about that woman, seriously.

Maylene shuffled around to face him, tears gathering in the corners of her eyes. “Sorry, Woowoo…”

He smiled softly, unable to stay annoyed at his kids for too long. “It’s okay, May May. Now please go sit at the table.”

She toddled off without another word, and he heaved out a sigh again. Melanie patted his arm sympathetically, taking Adelaide from him. They finished up the final preparations for breakfast in silence, the chatter of the kids perfect white noise. Eventually, though, Melanie hip checked him.

“What’s on your mind, Nicholas?”

He hesitated, then shrugged. No need to burden Melanie with his stupid feelings. “Nothing much.”

“Nicholas, you know better than to lie to me,” she chided. “At the very least, tell me if there’s anything I can do to help you.”

“There’s really not much you can do, Miss Mel,” he said, smiling ruefully. “It’s my fault anyhow, so I just gotta suck it up and be a big boy about it.”

She was silent for a moment, just watching him. Then her face softened. “This is about Vash, isn’t it? Your falling out?”

That was one way to put it. Still, he nodded; he could never get much past Melanie. Zazie’s earlier text came back to him unbidden, the one that gave him the slightest sliver of hope that maybe, just maybe, he could still fix things with Vash. If Meryl and Roberto didn’t kill him first, of course. It was a tall order.

“Oh, sweetheart, is it really that unsalvageable? I mean, everyone’s only had good things to say about the man and… you really seemed to care about him,” she said carefully, scanning his face. “I think it’s worth a try, no?”

How in the world was he supposed to explain that Vash had straight up run away, and that no one except possibly Zazie knew where he was? This was going beyond unsalvageable: it was becoming near impossible. But, oh, curse that little seed of hope that blond moron planted in him. He really had a way of making the world seem a little rosier, but he forgot to take that with him when he left. Instead of saying any of that, though, Wolfwood shrugged again.

“I guess. Let’s, uh, get the food out. The kids’ll start gnawing on the tables,” he said. Blessedly, Melanie didn’t comment on the way his voice cracked.

•••

After he had some food (and more coffee) in his system, Wolfwood finally felt emotionally stable enough to check Meryl’s responses. After cleaning up the mess hall, cleaning up the kids, doing the dishes, putting the babies down for their midday nap, getting dragged into weekend Monopoly, and taking a shower, of course. He had his priorities! He also had his work cut out for him reading over Meryl’s texts.

[Short Stack]: Oh, so now you’re interested? Go fuck yourself

[Short Stack]: You didn’t care when you were actively plotting against him and ruining everything he worked for, but NOW you care when we actually have a chance to make sure he’s happy

[Short Stack]: Probably only because you’re interested in him, you scheming, conniving, creep.

[Short Stack]: Do you just have a vendetta against happy people? Are you that miserable? You’re a fucking coward who quit basically ten minutes after you got outed by VASHS FUCKING BROTHER

[Short Stack]: Which is another issue to deal with by the way. By the way, you sold Vash out to HIS BROTHER. Genuinely how do you live with yourself?

[Short Stack]: Regardless, you work for Knives and you didn’t even check in on Vash when he ran away. We haven’t been able to reach him at all, and now Zazie’s saying they MAY be able to get that tracker on his phone turned back on remotely