"I still can't believe you agreed to be his best man." Francis says as he watches Vash, hunched over his laptop and furiously typing. He's been back in Seattle for a few days now, and Francis has been relentlessly bullying him over the fact that he actually agreed to do it. He had forgotten at the time that this also mean planning his bachelor party.

"If you make that redundant statement one more time, I will make sure that you regret ever saying it in the first place." Vash snipes from behind his laptop screen. Francis looks taken aback for a second and takes another long drink of his herbal tea.

"Now, now. I know you're stressed, but must you take it out on me?"

"Yes. Now sit down, shut up and help me work out what the hell you're supposed to do for your best friend's bachelor party."

"I think strippers are a given." Francis comments as he settles in to the sofa beside his roommate.

"Really? Vile." Vash frowns, a look of disgust clearly painted on to his features. "I'm not sure that's really Roderich's thing, are you? And I'm not sure Elizabeta would appreciate it either, she does seem like the jealous type."

Vash thinks for a second and scrolls further down the list of search results.

"I don't think it matters. You should probably talk to him, though. Maybe see what he has in mind and build on it from there. I'm not sure he'll want to spend that much money, considering how much the wedding will likely cost him."

"Hm." Vash pauses in his relentless scrolling and looks across at him. "Maybe we should just rent a room in one of the bars, or something. That shouldn't be too hard."

"That's actually an okay idea, for you."

"Shut up, you ass. My ideas are usually pretty good, and you know it. That's why I'm not as poor as you are, at least. I don't buy stupid things, either –like that toaster you bought last month just because it was made entirely of glass when you already had a perfectly good one at home."

"Please. The real reason you're not poor is because your parents are bankers and because you work at Starbucks. And that toaster is a genius piece of kitchenware and you know it."

"Yes, my ability to pour coffee for barrages of irritating art school hipsters has everything to do with my wealth." Vash rolls his eyes. "I work part time, unless you'd forgotten. And you're a freaking pastry chef; you earn way more than I do."

"Yes, but I actually spend money. On things that aren't essentials, before you say it. When was the last time you bought something because you wanted it and didn't actually need it?"

Vash thinks for a while, and Francis takes another long drink from his still-steaming mug. He raises a perfectly groomed eyebrow at the younger man and laughs softly.

"You can't remember, can you?" Vash frowns at this comment, and he almost looks like he's pouting when he turns to Francis.

"Oh my god." Francis laughs loudly then, and drinks the last of his tea in one mouthful. "That's it. You're coming shopping with me. You need new clothes anyway; you must have had those jeans for at least four years. It's not like you've grown much."

"Shut up." Vash replies quickly, closing his laptop with a little too much force and standing up. "Fine. I'll go buy some clothes if it'll keep you quiet."

"Good. It will." Francis smiles smugly and sets his mug down. "I think everyone's planning on going out tonight, too. I assume you'll be accompanying us?"

"I don't get a say in that, do I?"

"Correct. You are coming tonight, but I will make sure that you look fabulous for it, don't worry." Francis smirks at him as he pulls his dark blue jacket over his shoulders.

"Just because you're older than me doesn't mean that you get to boss me around as you please, you know." Vash replies, pulling his green hoodie up his arms and zipping it up carefully. "And for the record, if I didn't already know you were gay, I think that would've given it away. The only person I've ever seen care about fashion that much is Antonio, but he can get away with it because he's a model. You've got no excuse."

Francis rolls his eyes affectionately and grabs him by the wrist, pulling him out of the door and in to the hallway.

They return to the apartment a good four hours or so later, and Vash is carrying three enormous bags filled with clothes he didn't actually need in the first place.

"I thought I just needed new jeans." He comments with a frown in Francis' direction.

"Oh, you're so naive, sweetheart." Francis smiles as he takes off his jacket. "You can't just buy stone washed jeans and expect them to go with everything."

Vash sighs and dumps the bags down in their hallway.

"I'm going to say it again: you are the gayest person I've ever met." He states as he digs in his jacket pocket to find the key to lock the door.

"Is that supposed to be an insult?" Francis laughs, giggly and careless as he moves in to the kitchen. "Now, go and make yourself look fabulous while I make some tea."

Vash frowns after him, and Francis leans back out of the kitchen a few minutes later to stare back at him.

"Don't make me force you." He says, attempting to be stern. Vash stares at him incredulously. "Go. Now."

Vash's stare turns into an honest-to-god glare and he scoops up the bags from the floor and he huffs his way up the stairs.

"Wise decision." Francis shouts up at him from the bottom stair. "We're going out in two hours."

And so, two hours later, Vash finds himself standing in their hallway in red chinos that he doesn't even like, with a too-low white v-neck and a grey blazer that's just a tiny bit too snug around his shoulders.

"I feel like Antonio." He complains loudly as Francis reappears from the bathroom with hairspray and gel and sets about his hair. He doesn't do much with it, really; he smoothes the gel on his hands and pushes his fingers through Vash's hair.

"Are you quite finished?" Vash grumbles as Francis flattens down his bangs and pushes them slightly to one side.

"Yes." Francis steps back and looks at him from a distance. "Perfect. Now if only you'd frown a little less, you'd look much better."

"Shut up." Vash replies, glaring at him and shaking his head slightly to disturb his bangs. "Shouldn't we be leaving now?"

"Yes, we should." Francis agrees, pushing him out of the door and down the stairs to the foyer. "Antonio and Gilbert are probably already there with Lovino and Matthew, and I think Heracles and Kiku are planning on coming along, too."

By the time they arrive, Gilbert is already roaring drunk, sprawled all over one of the tables and loudly singing Don't You Want Me Baby to Matthew whenever he sees him. The blonde is clearly incredibly embarrassed by the whole situation and turns back to the bar and his conversation with his brother.

Heracles spots them then, from where he's leaning against the bar lazily, with one arm around Kiku's back and the other loosely holding a bottle of beer. Part of Vash actually dreads talking to him, because he's so relaxed that he talks at the speed of snail and practically everything he says is either related to his relationship with Kiku or the museum, neither of which he can really bring himself to care about.

Heracles is an exhibition designer at the museum where Arthur works, and so Vash only sort-of knows him, only sees him for get-togethers and other events he usually tries to avoid. He's a nice guy, though, even if his obsession with Ancient Greek history is a little strange (even though Vash thinks that interest probably has something to do with the fact that he is Greek) and his relationship with Kiku is sickeningly cute most of the time. Kiku himself is a kendo instructor at one of the martial arts centres downtown; he's tiny and fastidiously polite but is apparently incredibly fierce when he's annoyed –or at least, according to Heracles.

"How are you two?" Heracles asks, voice as quiet and soft-spoken as ever, a languid smile on his face.

"I'm good." Vash answers as Francis wanders off to buy drinks. "I don't know if Francis can say the same, though."

"How's he coping?" Kiku inquires, taking a long sip from his drink. "Heracles told me what happened."

"He's doing okay, I think." Vash turns to look at him as he talks. "He's been better, obviously, but he's better than I thought he'd be, in any case. He's crying less, too."

"I still can't believe Arthur would do that." Kiku admits, looking sideways down the bar at the Englishman, who is sitting on a barstool and talking absently to Elizabeta and Roderich.

"I don't think he's a bad person." Heracles says with a shrug. "I think he was just confused."

"How is he not a bad person?" Vash asks incredulously. Even Kiku is staring at Heracles like he's confused. "He was with Francis for nearly five years and he just up and leaves him for some loudmouth, idiotic American!"

"I'm just saying." Heracles reasons with another shrug of his shoulders. "Maybe it felt right for him to leave."

"That's not an excuse." Vash retorts, and he folds his arms as if to signal the conversation is over when he sees Francis heading towards them with a large glass of red wine in one hand and what Vash assumes is the Jack Daniels and cola he usually orders –or rather, makes Francis order since he might be a little too young to legally drink, but the bar staff don't need to know that.

"Here you go." Francis announces, thrusting his drink towards him. "Bottoms up."

He raises his wine glass to his mouth and drinks half of the contents in one mouthful –which even Heracles must find out of character if the expression on his face and his wide green eyes are anything to go by.

"Don't drink too much, alright?" Vash instructs him with a firm pat on the arm. "I am not dragging your sorry ass home if you get too drunk to even stand up properly. I will let you pass out on the street."

"You're such a good friend." Francis raises an eyebrow at him and rolls his eyes mockingly. "I really enjoy your friendship, Vash dearest."

"Stop talking. I'm not sorry, though; if you throw up on me one more time in a drunken stupor then forget about it in the morning when I throw a gross shirt at you then I will make sure you never sleep easy again."

"Now, now." Francis laughs playfully and takes another sip of his wine.

The door slams open and Antonio appears, Lovino on his arm and Feliciano and Ludwig trailing behind them dejectedly.

"Hola!" The Spaniard drawls, and Vash drops his head into his free hand and groans inwardly to himself. Kiku laughs at him and wraps his hand around Heracles' bicep almost protectively. Heracles smiles at him and kisses the side of his head gently.

Vash watches as Lovino pulls away from Antonio and gravitates towards the bar, apparently as desperately in need of alcohol as Vash is. The blonde drinks a mouthful of his cola and turns back to the other three. Antonio is already swaying absently to the music as Francis talks at him animatedly about something, and Feliciano looks a little lost until Ludwig spots his drunken brother and drags him over to help try and sober him up. Matthew sends them both a silent look of thanks.

Roderich wanders over about fifteen minutes later with a vodka and cola in his hand, and Vash laughs at him and elbows him jokily.

"Nice woman drink, Edelstein." He smirks up at his best friend, and Roderich almost narrows his eyes at him, but instead straightens his glasses and exhales a little harder than usual.

"Shut up, you're short."

"That isn't a valid comeback, asshole. You've been using it since we were about fourteen; I think it loses its sting after six years." Vash retorts with a small smirk tugging up one corner of his mouth. Roderich huffs in response, leaning a little closer to him as Alfred moves past them to talk to Arthur.

"How's living with Francis, anyway?" Roderich asks, pressing even closer when Feliciano shoehorns himself into the tiny gap next to his brother. Vash's heart inadvertently beats a little bit faster.

"It's alright. He's making me go furniture shopping with him sometime soon, I think. Should be interesting. Apparently he's not pleased because Arthur ended up keeping the 'good' furniture. I can only assume he means a set of dining chairs that have all their legs intact."

"Oh, have fun." Roderich laughs openly this time, and Vash can almost smell the alcohol on his breath as he leans forward to regain his balance. "There's nothing more entertaining than endlessly searching through catalogues for the perfect rug to go with the print of the sofas, or the end table that matches the kitchen cabinets exactly."

"I take it living with Elizabeta is as exciting as you imagined?" Vash laughs, snickering into his glass as he takes a drink.

"Don't get me wrong, it's great, but I just wish she didn't have this weird obsession with the place being pristinely clean at all times. If I get up after her and don't make the bed she yells at me." Roderich explains, exasperated, gesturing with his free hand. "I mean, I love her and all but that doesn't mean she isn't an annoying roommate."

"Sounds awesome." Vash says quietly into his drink; more to himself than to Roderich, if he's being honest, but the taller man clearly still hears him and frowns at him nonetheless.

"Are you alright? With the whole thing?" Roderich asks, clearly concerned as he cocks his head slightly, out of habit. "You know you didn't have to move out, right? It's a two bedroom apartment."

"I know. But I'm pretty sure that I'd overhear far more than I ever wanted to if I stayed." Vash admits with a grimace on his face. Roderich's cheeks redden slightly, and he stares at Vash with wide eyes.

"You didn't actually ever hear anything when she was over, did you?" He asks jerkily, wincing a little as he talks. Vash laughs inwardly and takes a quick drink.

"Only one time, I think. It was just before I moved out." Vash admits with a wry smirk playing on his features. Roderich stares at him. "Does 'oh, Roderich, harder' mean anything to you?"

He leans in even closer to fake a moan in Roderich's ear, and Roderich's cheeks turn a fantastic bright shade of pink and he realizes that his best friend is actually getting a little tipsy already. He sets his glass down on the bar and grabs him by the hips to push him a little further away.

They stare at each other for a few moments before they both talk at the same time.

"Oh my god, I am so sorry."