Disclaimer: They belong to Nightow.
Feedback is a girl's best friend. Constructive criticism, as always, is actively encouraged.
Note: An experiment in brief romantic comedy caused partly by some naughty comments Jaina made while betaing for me and partly by Van Halen's "Love Comes Walking In." Yes, the eighties were quite odd and yes, my muse confuses me sometimes, too. Don't worry – it's not a songfic. 'Cause that would just be wrong.
Rated PG-13. Just in case.
WALKING IN
Meryl wished she knew how it happened.
It wasn't like she could point to a specific instance and say "Yes. Right there, when I turn to punch him? That's when I knew I was in love."
It sort of snuck up on her. Like…mold. By the time she got around to noticing how she truly felt, it was far too late to prevent her heart from over-ruling the very sensible advice her head gave her. Advice like, "Don't fall in love with a man who has a sixty billion double dollar bounty on his head."
See? Good thinking. Proof that she wasn't a moron. So why the hell hadn't she listened?
Maybe she'd have felt better if there had been paperwork involved. She could deal with paperwork. In fact, Meryl was known throughout Bernardelli's main office for her knack in handling bureaucracy. If only there had been a stack of process reports that had to be filled in and filed in triplicate. Maybe by the time she'd gotten through them all, she'd be too exhausted to even care.
Then again, with her track record lately, she would've gone ahead and signed the final contract anyway. "I, Meryl Strife, of sound mind and body, do hereby declare that I am, in fact, head over heels in love with Vash the Stampede."
Well, okay, "sound body." "Sound mind" she wasn't so sure about. Especially considering the object of her affections, who, at the moment, was doing his best to charm the pants off the donut clerk in order to get a discount on his purchase.
Of course, since A, the clerk weighed about twice as much as Vash and B, currently answered to the name of "Bubba," the outlaw wasn't having much luck.
Meryl rolled her eyes and grabbed the sleeve of Vash's shirt. "Can we go now?"
"Come on, Meryl." Vash grinned. She really wished he wasn't so darn cute when he did that. "It's called haggling. It's part of the fun."
Meryl glanced at Bubba, who didn't look at all like he was having fun, and sighed. She shelled out the correct change, grabbed the bag of donuts, and hauled Vash out the door before he could protest further.
The day was sunny, clear, and, for a change, not overly hot. The birds sang; the children played; and Meryl scowled all the way up the street. Vash trotted behind her, already munching on one of his new purchases. "What's wrong with you today?"
She glared at him out of narrowed eyes. "There is nothing wrong with me today."
"You sure?"
"Positive."
"Really?" He sounded unconvinced.
She gritted her teeth, and tried not to growl as she answered. "Absolutely."
He shrugged and continued to eat. "All right. If you say so."
She didn't know what exactly it was about that statement. Maybe it was the words themselves, the casual dismissal. Maybe it was the way he seemed to care so little about how she felt that he wouldn't pursue the matter. Maybe she had just grown tired of everything – their relationship, their words, this endless holding pattern they seemed to be eternally stuck in.
Or hell, maybe it was just because he couldn't read minds and figure out what was currently on hers.
In the end, it really didn't matter. Meryl snapped.
She whirled on him. "What the hell is wrong with me? What the hell is wrong with *you?* You disappear for two years, try to ditch me almost as soon as we meet up again, finally go off in a pique of self-discovery, only to return with your long-lost, sociopathic twin brother. And now suddenly, everything's just fine and dandy in your world. You're back to buying donuts and chasing skirts and driving me absolutely up the wall and acting as if this is all *normal* when it so obviously makes no sense whatsoever and if I had any brains at all, I would've never agreed to be assigned to you in the first place!"
She paused and caught her breath, surprised to feel tears pricking at her eyes.
Vash blinked, speechless. "Uh…"
That didn't help the situation. She pointed an accusatory finger at him. "You, Vash, are singularly the biggest, most unbelievable idiot I have ever met!"
The statement came across as a damning proclamation, as if she had accused him of eating babies or singing karaoke instead of just acting like he always did. She turned back and stormed away, blinking back angry tears and praying that she made it to the house before she started sobbing like a baby.
Vash remained in the middle of the street, donuts forgotten in the wake of Meryl's mystifying outburst.
"Was it something I said?" he asked no one in particular.
***
Meryl spent two hours at the shooting range on the outskirts of town. While certain spiky-haired broomheads – who would remain nameless – had convinced her to never turn her guns on a fellow human being, tin cans were another matter entirely.
Meryl had long found solace from anger and frustration in repetitive activity so by the time she spent her last round, she was feeling a bit more in control. However, she was now left with a small problem – what to say to Vash? She certainly wasn't up to confronting him again so soon and to tell the truth, she was more than a little embarrassed for yelling at him when he hadn't done anything.
Well, besides the usual.
She shook her head as she walked up the stairs to the porch. When had she become such an idiot? Vash was clearly rubbing off on her.
She opened the screen door, wincing as its hinges squealed. The small wooden house was hot, cramped and the water had a tendency to come out brown but it was cheap and clean and had a landlord who would forgive a month's rent if the budget was tight. Meryl would've liked a larger place – or at least one that didn't face the west side of town – but between her, Millie and the twins, it was all they could afford. Besides, the house screamed low profile and with Vash around, they needed all the low profile they could get.
She stuck her head inside, checking left, then right for a familiar blonde head. No one in the kitchen. No one in the sitting room. She listened for any movement upstairs but heard nothing. Releasing a sigh, Meryl stepped inside and removed her cape and guns, hanging them on a standing coat rack immediately to the left of the door. She felt slightly foolish for her avoidance tactics but had to admit she was relieved not to see Vash at the moment.
An hour later found her sweating in the kitchen, steam rising from a large pot of gumbo (Daddy's favorite and the first thing she ever learned to cook) simmering merrily away on the stove. She also prepared a small serving of broth and vegetables for Knives, who still claimed he was too weak to hold much else down. Personally, Meryl thought he just said it to make more work for the rest of them. But then, she tended to be a bit biased in her opinions.
Millie returned home from the construction rig, sweaty and red-faced but just as cheerful as ever. She sneaked a spoonful of gumbo before Meryl swatted her hand back, then headed upstairs for a shower. Meryl wiped the sweat from her brow and tested the meal herself. Not bad, if she did say so herself. Now, just to set the table and practice her – achem – apology to Vash.
The single bulb above her head flickered and with a small pop, burnt out.
Meryl groaned. This, she believed, was a fitting end to the day.
She maneuvered her way to the hall closet, the suns still high enough to provide light to see by. The closet itself was a haphazard pile of coats, shoes and, oddly, Millie's collection of women's magazines, but she believed somewhere within lay an extra light bulb. Ten minutes cursing and clothes later, she found one lone light bulb that looked like it might have been purchased shortly after the Great Fall. It didn't rattle when she picked it up, so she assumed it was still working.
She had just pulled a kitchen chair over to the socket when she heard the front door open.
Vash was back.
Meryl froze for all of a second before recommencing her light bulb changing. If he wanted an apology, he could damn well come and get one.
She stood on the wooden chair – which wobbled even under her light weight – as Vash came into the kitchen. Her eyes flicked toward him but she made no other acknowledgement of his presence. He chewed his bottom lip, shuffled his feet and looked up hopefully. Meryl had to steady herself with one hand against the ceiling as her heart started fluttering.
"Uh, Meryl?"
"Yes?" A nice, steady answer, very neutral. So far, so good.
He rubbed his thumb knuckle against his eyebrow. "Um, about this afternoon…"
"Yes?" Twist, twist, twist and out popped the dead bulb. She crouched and placed it gently beside her feet, steadily *not* looking him in the eye.
"Look, I'm not sure what I did, but whatever it was, I didn't mean to upset you."
"You didn't upset me." Which was a huge, whopping lie and his expression turned from contrite to confused.
"I didn't? But what – you yelled and – are you sure nothing's wrong?"
"Of course, there isn't." She started twisting the new bulb in a bit harder than necessary. Okay, wasn't she supposed to be apologizing? Yet, here she was and there he was and all her tongue could do was get twisted into knots when he looked at her that way and god damn but she was sick of this and it still wasn't his fault.
Vash glanced up warily at the white knuckled grip she had on the bulb. "Well, it just seems you're shorter-tempered than usual."
Wrong thing to say. She turned, swaying on the uneven wooden legs, and glared at him. "What does *that* mean?"
Sensing the danger this line of communication could lead to, he verbally backtracked. "Nothing! Nothing, just, um, you haven't seemed very happy recently and I wanted-"
"To what? Drive me crazier than usual?" she snapped. And here she was fulfilling every single last one of his expectations, but what did he think would happen, making that shorter-tempered crack? "I will have you know that I am *perfectly* happy and I certainly don't need anything from you to-"
She leaned forward, which turned out to be a mistake of epic proportions as the chair finally unbalanced and she toppled over.
Meryl squeaked, much to her chagrin, and shut her eyes, waiting for the inevitable bang and accompanying pain as she hit the floor but neither came. Instead, she felt strong, warm arms catch her, cushioning her fall and holding her close. She automatically grabbed a hold of her savoir and blinked her eyes open, staring into Vash's worried aqua gaze.
She became very aware of just how close he was holding her.
She cleared her throat and managed to get out a husky whisper. "Okay, maybe I am a little more quick tempered than usual."
They wasted another moment simply staring at each other before the floodgates opened.
Meryl wasn't sure who initiated the kiss first, her or Vash, but both of them were happily participating in it. He tighten his hold on her and her feet lost touch with the ground as he set her upon the kitchen table, lips never once breaking contact. She wondered if she should say anything about the vase at the center of the tabletop when Vash suddenly swept it to the floor with a resounding crash. She thought Oh damn, that was my favorite before Vash started doing absolutely blasphemous things to her neck. She decided she never liked that vase much anyway.
They spent a few very enjoyable minutes trying to get out of their clothing but only got as far as Meryl's blouse and the top button of Vash's jeans before the hard table really started to dig into Meryl's shoulder blades. She took an opportunity for air. "Vash?"
"Hmm?" He was working his way across her collarbones and making a valiant attempt to unbutton her bra at the same time.
"Vash…oh that's nice…um…" Where was she?
"Good, good." He seemed to have his fingers tangled in the straps. She used his momentary distraction to gather her thoughts. Oh right.
"Vash. Upstairs."
"No, no, I'm right here." The bra snaps stumped him for the moment.
She sighed. "No. Us. We should go upstairs." A horrible thought struck her. "Before Millie comes back down."
Vash stopped cold, eyes widening as he realized just what a bad idea having sex on the dinner table really was. "Right. Upstairs. Locked door. Good idea."
He straightened but before Meryl could follow suit, he swept her into his arms and strode quickly up the stairs to his room in the back. It had originally started out its existence as a sewing room and was perhaps even more hot and cramped than the rest of the house but Meryl had never been more thankful to see it as Vash brought her right inside and slammed the door behind them.
He deposited her on the small but certainly adequate bed and before she even had the chance to open her mouth, his lips had closed over hers once more.
He solved his problem with her bra in short order after that.
***
Millie loved her job. The hours were long, the heat oppressive, but she liked being out in the open again and never felt happier than coming home to a cool shower after a hard day's work, dinner ready and waiting. The three of them – her, Meryl and Vash – would then sit down to a relaxed, home-cooked meal, chatting about this or that. It was a nice, comfortable routine that Millie didn't expect to change any time soon.
Then again, some very expressive groans and the rhythmic squeaks of abused bedsprings normally didn't accompany it.
Millie trotted downstairs, happy to see that the gumbo hadn't burned even if there was a shattered vase lying on the kitchen floor. No worries. It was easy enough to clean up.
She heard a loud moan. Then a giggle from Meryl.
She shook her head.
About time the two of them got around to that.
***
Meryl could scarcely believe it.
She'd had sex with Vash. Vash the Stampede. Most wanted man on the planet.
And, frankly, it'd been pretty darn good.
He also liked to cuddle, which just added big huge bonus points to her Vash scorecard. She sighed contentedly against his chest, his arms wrapped around her, fingers drawing idle patterns across her back.
Vash was the first to break the post-coital silence. "Wow."
Meryl stifled her inner fifteen-year-old (which was squealing with glee and jumping up and down at this point) and answered with a happy, "Uh-huh."
"That was-"
"Uh-huh."
"With you."
"Uh-huh."
Vash quirked an eyebrow and looked down at her. "So, why haven't we done this before?"
Meryl smiled, snuggling closer. "'Cause you're an idiot."
"Well, yeah," he said. "I'm male."
"That is most certainly true."
"Hmmm." His arms tightened around her. "This is nice."
"Uh-huh."
"I'd forgotten what it was like, loving like this."
Meryl stiffened. Had he just said what she thought he said? She lifted her head to look directly at him. "What?"
He frowned, suddenly unsure of himself or what to make of her question. "Um, that is – if you don't feel the same way, I'd understand…"
He looked so lost in that moment, as if the weight of the world had come crashing back onto his shoulders. She reached up a hand to cup his cheek, forcing him to look her directly in the eye. "Are you asking me if I love you?"
"Well, when you put it that way." He chuckled weakly, trying to make a joke of it but when she didn't move, he hazarded a "Yes?"
"You-" She kissed him, brief and searing. "Of course I love you. How could I not?"
"You-you do?"
She slapped him on the chest and settled herself down again. "Idiot. Yes. I love you."
"Really?" He grinned. With his hair mussed out of its spikes, he looked years younger. "Wow."
"So you've said."
"Just repeating it for effect." He sighed. "Of course there'll be some problems."
She buried her head against his shoulder. Count on Vash to ruin the mood. "Do we have to discuss this now?"
"I just don't want to see you get hurt," he said, sounding vaguely injured. "I mean, technically I'm on the lam and I still have Knives to take care of and there's this huge age difference-"
Meryl placed a hand against his mouth, cutting off his list of on-going obstacles. "Vash, I am only going to say this once. I'm here by choice. And if that means I have to put up with your nut of a brother and the occasional bounty hunter, then I'll do that because I love every little last bit of you and that's all I really give a damn about. So please, do me a favor and shut up."
He stared at her, looking sort of flabbergasted for a moment before giving her a beatific smile. He'd never looked better. "God, I love you."
Meryl thought her heart just might burst with happiness.
***
The over-sized girl had brought him dinner that night instead of her short, foul-tempered companion. No doubt because her short, foul-tempered companion was currently committing unconscionable acts with his brother.
Knives scowled at Millie as the another groan floated through the thin walls. "How long will this keep up?"
"Most of the night, I expect," Millie answered cheerfully. "They've got a couple years to make up for."
Knives really did not wish to dwell on the implications of Vash getting *that* involved with a human. However, the noises next door were making it difficult to think of anything else. A loud thump and another groan disrupted even Millie's calm mood. She stood and brushed off her pants.
"Well, I suppose we should make ourselves scarce."
Knives narrowed his eyes. "What do you mean 'we?'"
"Us. You and me." Millie grinned. "We'll have a night on the town."
The Plant stared at her. She must have lost what little mind she had. "You must be joking."
More moans and some disconcerting giggles. Millie shrugged. "Well, if you really, really *want* to stay here…"
Knives glanced towards the wall, glanced at her, glanced back at the wall and weighed his options. If he went with her, he'd be subjected to not only her company but also an overwhelming crowd of humanity for most of the night.
If he stayed, he'd be scarred for life.
It was an exceedingly difficult decision.
He finally sighed. "Fine. Where are we going?"
Millie just smiled.
FIN