A/N: A late night vignette, which might---just might---become a story later on. It's completely not my style, but I'll give it a go and see what people think of it. Make my day, review the story, etc. Warning: the following story is the product of 1.5 hours of physics and vecters. Don't blame me...

Disclaimer: No, I don't own any Trigun characters...except for the ones chained in my basement. --winks at Sinically Disturbed--


Hunting Mayflies
By: The Hellcat

"I don't think you're turning it the right way."

Meryl gave an exaggerated sigh, her jaw tightening at Vash's complaining. "Vash, for the last time: righty tighty, lefty loosey."

"I don't think that applies to plumbing. Here—" Vash placed his hand over Meryl's easing the wrench left. The pipe gave an ominous clinking sound, and Meryl jerked her hand away.

"Vash," she said warningly. "That doesn't sound good. I think—" her words were drowned out by a telltale groaning. Suddenly the pipe burst in an eruption of dishwater. Water hissed from the spigot, dampened the floor. A very wet, very pissed-off Meryl Stryfe flopped sopping hair from her eyes, shooting Vash a death glare.

Vash offered a chagrined smile, ringing water from his shirt. "Imagine that," he laughed weakly.

"Vash..." Meryl growled.

"Hey, I just remembered, I've got a—an appointment I have to keep. Sorry about the mess," he blundered, edging away from the hellcat.

"Oh, no you don't!" Meryl cried, snatching at Vash's sleeve. "You're cleaning this up!"

"Bur Meryl!" Vash whined. "I have a—"

"An appointment. I heard. Meryl picked up the wrench, ducking beneath the spray of water and tightening the valve. "So," she grunted, heaving her weight against the wrench. "You're going to mop up this...unh...water..." She paused, panting, "while I fix your mess."

"Insurance gir—"

"Now, Vash." Meryl pushed wet bangs back from her forehead, rivulets of water running down her cheeks like tears, glistening in the sunlight.

"Yes, Meryl," Vash said glumly, plodding out of the room to search for a mop.

Meryl shook her head, sending droplets of water flying. "That—broom-head," she muttered fondly, twisting the valve. With a screech, the water petered out to a steady trickle. Meryl adjusted her grip on the wrench, repositioning herself. From somewhere near the closet came a loud thump, quickly followed by the ex-gunman's muffled voice:

"It's alright! I'm o-kay."

A smile touched the insurance girl's lips; she gave the pipe a final tweak, rocking back on her heels. It was a crude job, and she'd lost footing in her battle with the faucet—it would still leak, thanks to thatskirt-chasingidiot. Meryl rolled her eyes. Now she'd have to find more spare time to fix the faucet in. For now, she was late for work. Meryl glanced down at her sodden clothes with a wince. Gingerly, she unbuttoned her heavy overshirt and shrugged out of it. The dishwater had soaked through the cotton and stained her silk chemise with water. "Crap," she hissed.

"Whoa!" Vash's cry startled Meryl.

"VASH!" Meryl jumped in surprise. The gunslinger whirled around, one hand clamped over his eyes.

"I didn't see anything!" He yelped. "I swear."

"What were you doing sneaking behind me, you creep?" Meryl asked hotly, re-buttoning her soaked shirt with short, angry gestures.

There was a tinny clanging as Vash raised his bucket and mop. "I was going to clean up the mess like you asked me to!" He said, chastised.

Meryl scowled. "Well, you...should have...I don't know—knocked—or something." She said, raking a hand through her dark tresses.

"Can I turn around now?" Vash asked timidly.

"Yes." Meryl said in a tight, clipped voice. The blond gunman turned around sulkily, avoiding eye contact. He shuffled forward and, with mock weariness, began to mop the floor. Meryl sighed.

"For God's sake, Vash, you're making it worse. Can't you do anything right? Here, like this—"

She took the mop from him and began cleaning the floor with swift, economical strokes. Vash wandered over to the kitchen table, plucking a stale donut from the plate on the table and plopping unceremoniously into a chair. He took a bite of the donut, his appreciative eyes following the insurance girl's slender figure.

"That appointment?" Meryl prompted.

"Hmm?" Vash said in a spray of donut crumbs.

"What's your big, important meeting about? The one that you can't miss?"

"Oh!" Vash swallowed, flashed a lopsided smile. "I have a date."

Meryl faltered slightly, then recovered. "A date?" She echoed incredulously.

"Mm." Vash eyed her jokingly. "You jealous?"

"What? No!" Meryl said, indignant. "Why would I be jealous of your date? I–I feel bad for her, actually." Meryl stammered.

Vash slid off the chair, clapped his hands to free them of crumbs. "Well," he said with sudden curtness that the insurance girl had never seen before. "I've got to go. Wouldn't want to be late." He paused, giving her a quick scan. "You look pretty bad. You should change."

Meryl gaped. "Excuse me? This is your fault."

"Hey, look at the time!" Vash cried hastily, easing away from the insurance girl. "Catch you later!" He ducked outside before Meryl could stop him. "Boy," he mumbled, tucking his hands into his pockets. "She sure is cranky."


Several hours later...

By the time Meryl had stumbled in from her daily job at the bar, she was sweaty, sticky, exhausted, and smelled of cigarette smoke. She tangled her fingers through her hair, sighing wearily.

The short insurance girl shuffled into the kitchen, sparing a glance at the crappy broken faucet. Too tired. She'd deal with it tomorrow. Why she was so bothered by her morning's conversation with Vash, she didn't know. She rolled her shoulders, untying her apron and tossing it haphazardly onto the couch.

"Keep going," Vash cracked, humming the 'stripper' tune.

"Vash! What—are you doing here?"

Vash blinked confusedly. "I was under the impression that I lived here."

Meryl crossed her arms haughtily. "I thought you had 'an appointment'." She said, mocking his tone childishly.

"I did. At least, I thought I did."

Meryl let her arms fall to her sides. "What do you mean?"

"She stood me up."

"Oh." Meryl tried to look disappointed. "Are you sure?"

"Mm-hmm," Vash said dejectedly.

"I'm sorry."

"Ah," Vash waved a cavalier hand.

"No, really." She paused awkwardly, feeling an unusual tension in the air. "I—"

"Sempai?" Meryl leapt, one hand flying to her chest where her heart was pounding uncommonly fast.

"M-Milly?" The big insurance girl ducked slightly under the doorframe.

"Konnichiwa, Sempai. Vash-san." She nodded to the tall, blond outlaw. "Payday, Sempai." The big girl offered Meryl a paycheck.

Meryl tucked the check into her breast pocket. "How's work coming?"

"Oh, wonderful, Sempai. I don't have to think at all."

"Gee, Milly, that's good...I think."

"I'm awfully tired, though. Say, do we have any pudding?"

Meryl winced. "No, you finished it off yesterday. Tell you what..." she gave Milly her paycheck back. "We've got some money to spare. Why don't you go buy some pudding?"

"Hey!" Came Vash's hurt cry.

"And donuts," Meryl amended hastily.

"Really, Sempai?"

Meryl nodded.

"Thanks!" The big girl turned around, lumbering back outside cheerily. Meryl watched her until she was out of sight before sinking onto the couch.

"You okay?" Drifted the broom-head's voice.

"Just tired."

"You don't look so well. Maybe you should take a break."

"I don't have time, Vash. Speaking of work, there's a report due next week..." She half rose before Vash caught her shirtsleeve in one hand, yanked her back down.

"You finished it already. Why don't you sit still for awhile?"

Meryl tugged her shirtsleeve back superciliously. "Too much needs to be done."

"Like what?"

"Like the faucet," Meryl said dryly. "It needs to be fixed."

"I fixed it this afternoon."

Meryl stared. "You mean, you actually did some work? Hold on—what's that? It's a bird!...no, it's a toma...no, wait—it's a flying pig."

Vash pulled a face. "I can work."

Meryl snorted. "Uh-huh."

"I can!" Vash said defensively.

"Okay, Vash you can work." She shot him one last skeptical look before moving to rise again. "I think I might—hey, what are you doing?"

Vash licked his thumb, stroked Meryl's cheek. "You had some dirt just there." He tapped a spot on his face.

Meryl was speechless for a heartbeat. Then: "Next time just tell me, for God's sake. I'll get it myself." She pushed off the couch irately, throwing the door open to her first-story bedroom.

"Hey Meryl?"

"Huh?" The young insurance girl tilted her head to indicate she was listening.

"...thanks."

"What for?"

"I don't know. Being there for me."

"Sure. Fine. Maybe someday you'll actually have a real date."

Vash looked down for a minute, and a tension tailed Meryl's words. Finally he looked up, gave one of the roguish smiles that were unvaryingly followed by his corniest jokes. "You want a date with Gunsmoke's most notorious outlaw?"

Meryl smiled sweetly. "In your dreams, broom-head." The brunette left the living room and closed the door, hand lingering on the doorknob.


Is it worth continuing? Please review