Title: Styrafoam Cup
Pairings: WolfwoodxVash
Warnings: Yaoi aka mansex, don't like, don't read
Summary:Vash is a loser, rejected at his job and shunned by his co-workers. Except for one, who seems to think he is special and not so much of a strange person after all when he takes Vash under his wing.
A/N: So! Revamped Stryracup! I'm not sure anyone who was reading this originally is still with me, but whatever. I decided to go through and change all of the crappy mistakes I made more than a year ago -- and also finish out the story! Lucky you! Nothing major though, small plot change later. Just editting. My other two fics that I posted on will probably be removed and I'll just leave up Styracup since it's the only one I'm really proud of ;) Characters might be slightly OOC at times, specially Vash. He just seems like he would loose confidence rather soon if he was repeatedly put down and living in our world! Reviews and constructive criticism appreciated.

Part One

"SAVEREM! GET IN MY OFFICE THIS INSTANT!"

The message echoed around the large office space where around a hundred suited men and women pecked out useless information on their keyboards everyday, coming in and setting down their briefcases with the glimmer of hope that he would screw up something and give them some kind of slightly twisted entertainment.

Thus, a large amount of whispers and snickering erupted from the large group of people, half of them not even pretending to work as a dejected blonde began the path through the maze of cubicles to his boss' office. He had learned to ignore the jeers and pointing fingers from his co-workers over the past few months he had been there.

"What'd you do this time, Saverem? Blow up the copy machine? Set a secretary's hair on fire?"

"No, that was last week, remember?" replied the business man's buddy. They fell into helpless laughter, gripping their sides, as Vash, the object of their attention, continued on the trail to his demise, grinning miserably and pretending he enjoyed their jokes, a half-hearted smile cracking his lips.

Thoughts of what could possibly have his boss in such a fury fluttered about his mind as he reached out a hand to open his supervisor's door, wincing as the barrage of insults, complaints, and curses began flying even before he had set one foot in the door.

"SAVEREM, DO YOU REALIZE WHAT YOU'RE DOING TO MY DEPARTMENT? YOU SEND THE WRONG FAXES TO THE WRONG PEOPLE! YOU CALL THE WRONG COMPANIES, GIVING THEM WRONG ESTIMATES! YOU EVEN SET POOR MRS. REED'S HAIR ON FIRE LAST WEEK! YOU'VE ONLY BEEN HERE A FEW MONTHS AND YOU'VE CAUSED MORE DAMAGE THAN ANY ONE PERSON THAT'S EVER SET FOOT IN THIS BUILDING! EVERYTHING IS WRONG, WRONG, WRONG! GIVE ME SOMETHING -- SOME EXPLANATION AS TO YOUR BEHAVIOR!"

During the course of a very angry boss' rants and raves, Vash had sat down in the chair facing the man's desk, twiddling with his tie and avoiding the man's gaze, sitting back in his seat a little when flecks of spit flew onto his face. He sheepishly raised his eyes to the taut white shirt of his overweight superior while he tried to formulate an answer, mouth opening and closing slightly in his stunned state.

His supervisor's face was purple with rage, his breathing uneven and extremely heavy as he awaited Vash's answer. The blonde didn't seem to have one right away, shifting his feet back in forth underneath the chair he was seated in. The younge man shifted his gaze again, staring at the floor like a little kid who had smashed an important vase playing ball in the house.

"WELL, SAVEREM? WHAT IS YOUR EXCUSE!"

Vash winced as the coarse verbal abuse wrecked havoc on his ears, the last syllables ringing uncomfortably around his head. He dared to move his gaze from the floor to the glossy wooden top that was his manager's desk. He watched the man's nostrils flare in the slight reflection it gave off. He took a deep breath, exhaling as he gave a reply to his foreman's questions.

"Sir... I'm really sorry... I truly am. I didn't mean to send all those faxes on bankruptcy to the coffin company... And I was trying just now to correct that phone call I made telling the Mexican owners of that restaurant that their bank account wasn't empty. And I even bought Mrs. Reed a new wig when I--"

"Repeat our company motto, Saverem."

Vash glanced up at his supervisor's large, round face, staring into the beady, black eyes for just a moment before lowering his gaze again.

"I am a proud employee at Mitchell Banking Incorporated. There are no such things as useless mistakes or careless flaws, only absolute perfection in every aspect of my job. I respect the wishes of those with a higher position than me, and I will treat those below me with the same courtesy. I deserve any kind of punishment I receive if I dare to go against my manager's wishes, or I break the perfection of the company that everyone around me is striving to maintain."

The blonde felt like a machine, droning out what had been pounded into his head by the man sitting in front of him. Said man huffed impatiently, not even showing the slightest bit of pride that Vash was the only worker on the floor who could repeat the company's motto by heart. He shuffled a few papers needlessly, trying to find a decent way to punish the dolcile employee before him.

The man paused at a particular slip of paper, staring down at it with squinting eyes. His chubby cheeks creased his glinting eyes into mere slits as he grinned rather nastily at the object in his hands. Turning his malicious gaze onto the worried worker before him, he coughed, passing judgment on the man.

"Saverem, I'm placing you with an employee who's been here several years, gaining experience and keeping his nose out of trouble, unlike you."

The boss sniffed loudly before continuing on with Vash's sentence.

"I want you to stay after work everyday, learning to be a better employee, building character -- learn not to be such a damn klutz. Maybe even how to make a decent cup of coffee."

The man didn't catch Vash's indignant glare or the wrinkle of distaste on his nose as he shuffled the papers again, finding the one that he was looking for.

"Maybe part of the trouble, Saverem, is that you can't even type properly. You've made too many errors on memos, letters, etc. to know how to key correctly. I bet you don't even proofread...I'll inform your instructor of this, also. I don't understand how you even passed the company's standards with your minimal, childish skills..."

The blonde continued to fiddle with the end of his soft tie, praying that the people out in the office space beyond the glass door behind him had begun to forget him and his ritualistic trip to the manager's office. Maybe today they would actually have something better to do and wouldn't be waiting on the edge of the cubicle walls, gripping mugs of coffee and sneering when he slumped dejectedly back to his corner of the office, the darkest spot possible with no view whatsoever to the nice scenery of the city outside.

Vash didn't even pay attention as his boss listed some more of his complaints about the way the shamefaced youngling worked. The blonde tried, he really did... it just never seemed to work out for him... He nodded blankly, his face tired and his ears aching. His limbs felt heavy as he stood up from the orange chair he had been sitting in, slouching over to the door at first and then straightening up at a word from his boss.

"Don't slouch, Saverem. That makes you look sloppy. You look sloppy, you'll be sloppy."

Vash mimicked the last words as he shut the glass door behind him, bracing himself for the barrage of insults coming his way that were even worse than the loud speech his boss gave him everyday.

"So, Saverem, I saw the new wig you bought Mrs. Reed. It was in the trash down the hall!"

The worker almost spilled his Diet Coke on his white shirt laughing at his own stupid joke as Vash tried his best to ignore him.

"Heard about that incident with the coffin company, Saverem. I imagine the big boss is gonna be calling them for our poor manager soon. You're gonna make him burst a blood vessel with his yelling..."

"Hey, Saverem, what are you going to do today? Try and blow up the building just by typing on your computer?"

"SAVEREM! I don't want you near the coffee machine ever again! This coffee tastes like crap and it's as thick as paint!"

Vash half-heartedly apologized, but no one heard it. They were still too busy insulting him.

At long last, he reached his destination in the corner of the large office room, his rolling chair gone, along with his stapler and tape dispenser... maybe a couple of pens were gone, too. He didn't even bother counting them anymore. He flicked on his computer screen, frowning at the scrolling screensaver of 'Saverem sucks-Saverem sucks-Saverem sucks'. And his co-workers called themselves 'adults'?

Vash clicked on his settings to change it, his body tired and aching with depressed anger. He was really seething, but too unhappy and too tired to do anything about it. He had once been full of life, joking all the time and actually happy. But once he had come to this particular office, fresh out of college and ready to make new friends, he had instantly been rejected.

What's up with your hair! It sticks straight up!

Don't you ever shut up! I don't care! Get a hint and go bother someone else!

His happiness and enthusiasm had not been appreciated.

He slipped a key out of his pocket to stuff the remainder of his pens and belongings into a drawer before locking it and standing up, walking quickly towards the lounge room, praying that no one was watching and no one was following.

Thankfully, the lounge room was devoid of insulting co-workers, bosses, janitors... no one was there and Vash sighed in relief. He turned around and switched the lock to the wooden door as he slid into a chair at the stained plastic table near the opposite wall of the room. He didn't want anyone to bother him right now...

This was really getting to be too much for him to stand. He'd end up going insane before he had a chance to prove himself.

He didn't even bother to check his own coffee and see if it really did look as thick as paint. He didn't care right now, nor would he care later. He was simply thinking about all the other opportunities he had had before sending in an application to the hell hole he worked in now to work at bigger and better places.

Maybe if he had taken that elusive 'other' job, he wouldn't be living in a crappy apartment with a TV that showed nothing but static, brown water when he took a shower, spiders as big as his shoes crawling around unchecked and a million other things that were wrong with his cramped living quarters. He had been better off living with his parents, but God forbid he actually went back home. His parents weren't exactly the encouraging type, especially since they had wanted him to be a lawyer instead of some half-hearted accountant.

The poor blonde let his head fall to the table, his cheek resting against the cool plastic as he let his eyes slide shut.

Life might be a little more worth it if the women he asked out would actually go on one date with him! They didn't even give him a chance! Most of them already knew his face, but if they didn't, all he had to do was tell them his last name and they would suddenly have a death in the family or an emergency dentist appointment. And it was even worse if he asked girls at bars. If he actually found the energy to go out at night for a drink, he was rejected because he looked too 'depressed' and 'creepy' for a pretty girl to like.. It seemed like a companion would be the perfect pick-me-up in his down in the dumps lifestyle.

Maybe he should go ahead and start looking for another job.

He pulled his arms up from his side to cradle his aching head, praying that sleep would come quickly. He cared more about his terrible coffee than going back to work, at the moment. Sleep was fuzzing the edges of his reality when he heard a scuffle at the door and then the distinct creaking that signaled the door was open.

The blonde vaguely wondered who it was, not remembering that he had locked the door. He sighed into the folds of his white business shirt, hoping the person wasn't there to give him a hard time. Hell, he hoped that hadn't even noticed him yet in the dimly lit corner.

"Hey there, are you okay?"

No such luck...

At least he isn't making a joke... or maybe it's because he hasn't seen my face... best to stay still...

Vash's head was spinning, but he gave a muffled reply back to the questioner.

"Yeah, I'm fine."

"Hmn... Okay, if you say so."

The guy's deep, voice with just a hint of rasping, sounded skeptical. After a few more noises, Vash heard the chair across from him scraping loudly on the floortiles, causing him to wince into his arms. The stranger merely sat down though, content not to ask anymore questions.

"Is there something you need?"

"Naaah... I was just taking a break. Oh, and I locked the door back for you."

Vash pulled his head up for the first time since the drawling stranger had strolled in. The blonde slowly dragged his eyes up the man, taking in his appearance.

He was young, in his twenties, with a long sleeve, white shirt, the arms rolled up. His dark blue tie hung casually around his neck, obviously just undone. His long neck was tanned a dark, golden shade with a slight stubble on his chin, the rest of his visible body the same dark pallor.

A few ashes fell from the crumpled cigarette hanging from his mouth while the smoke curled upwards past his long, but not unhandsome, nose and up towards blue grey eyes that were slowly creasing into a smile. His pitch black hair hung in his face a lot, but he reached up an equally tanned hand to brush them away as he spoke directly to Vash.

"Ah, so we see the stranger's face. What's your name, Tongari?"

Vash winced at the name and smoothed his hair down a bit, turning his head to the side as he answered.

"Saverem."

"Saverem... What a weird name... You must have gotten picked on as a kid with a name like that. What was your last name again?"

Vash glanced back, his head not turning as he stared at the man before him.

"That is my last name."

"Well, I was asking for your name, Tongari! What's your first name?"

Vash winced again at the name, the act not escaping the eyes of the stranger.

"It's... It's Vash."

"Vash Saverem, eh? Now that isn't so bad."

The stranger grinned widely as he stubbed out his cigarette and flicked it towards the garbage can halfway across the room, making it flawlessly. Vash watched it fly before turning his attention back to the first man in the whole building who had cared to ask for his first name. This guy was... different... He wasn't cold or teasing towards Vash. He was actually being... friendly?

Even when he called him 'Tongari', he didn't say it in a disdainful manner, not scoffing at him for having a strange hairstyle.

"So, what's your name?"

"Nicholas, although no one else in this place seems to care. They all call me Wolfwood."

The man shifted in his chair, rummaging through his pockets and patting down his chest to see if he had anymore cigarettes. Much to his dismay, he had no more, resulting in him leaning forward and resting his head in his chin as he grinned at Vash absently.

Nicholas... Wolfwood.

Wolfwood suddenly turned the conversation to a direction Vash didn't really want to head down.

"Hey... Yanno..."

He tapped his cigarette on the edge of the table, tapping his fingertips on the surface before continuing.

"...your name sounds familiar... Aren't you the one who set Mrs. Reed's hair on fire?"

Vash plopped his head back down on his arms in reply, not bothering to answer.

"I'm taking that as a 'yes'?"

Blonde spikes wobbled as Vash nodded weakly. He sat up very quickly though as Wolfwood's loud laugher violently wrenched him from his stupor. Blinking in surprise, he questioned him.

"What? What's so funny?"

"That old bitch deserved it! Her hair was about as real as a three dollar bill! It was starting to stink up her area too... Blech. Every time I walked past, I thought I was going to gag on her disgusting perfume and the moths that were flying from her hair!"

Wolfwood chuckled again, making Vash smile.

"Ah. That suits you much better."

Vash's smile widened a fraction, competing with Wolfwood's own as they grinned at each other. After a few more moments of relaxed silence, the dark haired man sighed lightly, stretching his intertwined fingers out in front of him, loosening the stiff muscles in his arms. He stood up, stretching then, also.

The blonde watched him, his expression amused and his mood much lighter by one simple joke. For once, the joke wasn't aimed at him, which made it all the better.

Wolfwood waved his hand once, signalling his leave. Vash waved back, his smile never fading as the dark haired man informed him he would have to lock the door back after he left.

But when the squeaky door shut, he didn't feel like locking it anymore. He got up and fixed himself a cup of coffee, which, to his credit, tasted delicious. He smiled again, refilling his styrafoam cup before exiting the lounge, the sharp insults and snide comments not fazing his good mood.

His co-workers were confused a moment before they decided they could no longer hurt him with their jokes. Sliding back into their cubicles, they typed out their forms, befuddled.

Maybe Vash wouldn't quit his job after all.

Vash only had about thirty minutes left until he finished typing out his monthly report.

Which meant that everyone else had left at least two hours ago.

He gritted his teeth and sighed, his previously good mood gone ages ago. His 'hunt-and-peck' typing technique wasn't helping at all... His Dr.Pepper had gone flat, his fingers were sore from the typing, and his head was pounding from staring at a computer screen for most of his day.

The last janitor had left a small light on near the exit, so he could see to get his way out, but other than that, the only light was his dull, glowing screen. Rubbing his eyes with fisted hands, Vash leaned back in his newly found chair He had recovered it from the stairwell, stretching long arms behind his head and then folding them back behind his neck so he could stare at the equally dull ceiling.

His thoughts wandered, drifting ever further from his work and more to Wolfwood, the guy he barely knew. He closed his eyes, chuckling lightly as he remembered the joke the other man had made. He leaned back a bit more, hearing the chair squeak in protest.

He didn't really care, his thoughts elsewhere as a figure slowly walked up to his dusty cubicle and knocked softly on the wall. Vash didn't seem to notice, his face displaying a small grin.

I should stop feeling so bad -- she really did need a new wig... that last one was purple and--

"Vash?"

"AAH!"

Vash fell backwards out of his chair, sprawling to the floor in a unceremonious heap. Looking quite sheepishly up from his position on the ground, the blonde took in dark shoes, dark pants, white shirt with rolled up sleeves, and the handsome face of Nicholas Wolfwood.

Scrambling back up to a sitting position, Vash sat on his heels, his head bowed, looking for all the world like an unworthy servant before his master. He reached up a hand to scratch the back of his head nervously before glancing up to Wolfwood, who was wearing the same wonderfully crooked smile he had worn earlier.

He reached a hand to help the clumsy blonde up from the floor. Said blonde was now blushing furiously, mumbling responses as to why he would be leaning back so far, what he was typing on, etc.

"Don't worry about it, Tongari."

Vash glanced up at the nickname that Wolfwood had obviously dubbed him with. He grinned nervously, not used to nicknames, much less people being friendly enough to give him one. He was curious as to why the man was still here so long after everyone had left.

"Uhm, if you don't mind my asking, what are you doing up here so late?"

"I work late hours. But I was just going to leave when I saw a computer still on. I was gonna come shut it off when I saw it was you sitting here, spacing off."

Vash's cheeks flared red again, but Wolfwood just laughed.

"Don't worry, I do the same thing. That's part of the reason I have such late hours."

"Oh... I see..."

The blonde stared around, not really sure how to respond to someone who was so open and comfortable with him. Shoving his hands in his pockets, his scuffled his feet on the floor, watching his loose shoelaces swing back and forth. Wolfwood shifted and spoke.

"So, I guess I can ask you the same question. You stay up here this late often?"

"Yeah... Usually later... But I'm just trying to get my work done... Plus, I don't really like going home..."

His last statement was extremely quiet, but since no one else was around being noisy, Wolfwood caught it. He frowned a little, but decided instead to pull a piece of paper out of his pocket. He handed it to Vash, who looked up questioningly at him for a moment.

"Well, you should come drinking with me some time. I got this memo today from the manager. Seems your having lots of trouble at work lately."

Vash didn't read the letter. He simply held it loosely in his hand.

"Starting tomorrow, you get to stay after work with me."

Wolfwood grinned widely. Vash smiled weakly, glancing down at the letter warily, hoping that this new situation would help him, not add to his growing pile of problems.