Disclaimer: I do not own Trigun. I do not own Meryl, or Milly, or
Wolfwood, or Vash, or even the cute little black kitty. I simply write
fanfiction in my spare time. Though sometimes I really, really, really
wish I owned Vash. *hehe*
Author's Notes: Thank you for being kind everyone! As you can see, chapter two is already up. Reason? I have a midterm in two days. Must procrastinate and not study. Hehehe. Enjoy!
Chapter 2
So it's been two months now. Knives is. . .is being his sweet sensitive self. Hah! Right! I think he takes perverse pleasure in glaring at everyone and everything. That's the first thing he did when he woke up, by the way. About three or so weeks ago, he opened his eyes and he glared. First at me with that 'oh I am going to hurt you so much you bastard not worthy to be called a Plant' look. Then at Milly who didn't seem to notice the look. Milly, gods bless her sweet little heart, just smiled at him and tried to feed him some tomato soup by pretending that the spoon was an airship. Needless to say, that didn't turn out too well. Then the glare was directed at Meryl.
Now this is where the fun really begins! (Gods, when did I become so masochistic?) Meryl. . . glared right back. You could feel the lightning strikes coming from those two and the storm clouds almost brewing. I mean it. Milly and I both unconsciously backed up a step at that look. The tension in the room was so thick my hand even twitched to my side where the gun would have been.
Meryl wasn't the least bit afraid of him. And even if she was, she didn't show it. I think maybe she wanted to dare him to do something. I've seen Meryl after she's gone in to bring him a tray of food. Whew! If looks could kill, I don't think any of my bullets could have saved me. I think even Knives knew that too. Meryl might not look imposing, but when she glares, you can't help but be afraid.
Yet the look doesn't hide the fact that she's an amazing woman. I don't know if Wolfwood had meant *her* specifically when he said women were amazing. I know she is. She doesn't show it so easily, but I know that she's patient and caring and wonderful. And beautiful and gracious. . .and oh gods, I so wish I could just take her in my arms and hold her. Oh, bad thought, bad thought! Whenever I think of holding her, I feel that burn deep in my gut again, that hunger and need that had been in the desert.
It's been especially bad lately. In the beginning I had been too worried about Knives and how hard - excruciatingly hard - it was going to be when he woke up. I hadn't had time to dwell on things. And now he's awake, away from weapons, and not killing anybody and I'm no longer as worried. I'll always be concerned of course, my senses always on alert for any signs of insane and homicidal behavior from him. This is Knives after all! I'd be crazy to let my guard down! But for now, he's tolerable even if he is volubly insulting, and my mind has been freed to dwell on other things. And oh boy, has it been dwelling on *other things*.
Much to my utter discomfort and detriment, I've begun to notice little things that I never noticed before. How Milly sometimes looks sad in the evenings when she looks outside at the sunset. How a certain black cat has been hanging out on our porch every night. How the town no longer flinches from me. I've begun to notice so many things. But most of them have been about *her*.
I've begun to notice how she leans against the sink when she's washing dishes. How she has that faraway look when she comes out of Knives' room, concerned and sad and pissed off at the same time. How she always brings me donuts in the afternoons and smirks that they're leftovers though they are still warm from cooking. How her hair smells glorious in the morning. How the bathroom is steamy and smelling of her shampoo. How my skin tingles knowing she is in the same room with me. How I mouth her name sometimes - Meryl - and smile even without meaning to. I tried not to notice. But damn it! I can't help the way I feel.
Then the dreams came.
Now you might think I'm a pervert because of this. I mean, Meryl already thinks I am. In fact she reminds me almost daily that I'm a menace to society and a pervert. How do you like that? The woman I love thinks I'm a menace to society *and* a pervert. Does every guy go through this or am I just extra special? But the dreams can't be helped.
They vary from one dream to another but they always end the same way. Me. Her. In my bed. I tell her I love her. She says, Vash make love to me. I don't care anymore, just love me. I nod my head, my heart is racing so fast. Then my hands go to the buttons of her blouse, I bend my head to claim her lips, and . . . and . . . I wake up.
Who's the pervert now? Who's the pervert now?
It never goes beyond that point I bend to kiss her. I startle myself awake most times thinking that Meryl's going to bash my head in for sure this time.
But sometimes, just sometimes, I so wish that dream would continue. I so wish that I could tell her I love her and need her and hunger for her. And just once, just once I would have liked to make love to her and her to me. If only in the brief unreality that is my dreams.
But dear gods, the mind has a perverse sense of humor and the dream ends the same every night. Me. Her. My bed. And an almost kiss that never happens.
A/N: Awww.Vash loves Meryl! Vash loves Meryl!
Author's Notes: Thank you for being kind everyone! As you can see, chapter two is already up. Reason? I have a midterm in two days. Must procrastinate and not study. Hehehe. Enjoy!
Chapter 2
So it's been two months now. Knives is. . .is being his sweet sensitive self. Hah! Right! I think he takes perverse pleasure in glaring at everyone and everything. That's the first thing he did when he woke up, by the way. About three or so weeks ago, he opened his eyes and he glared. First at me with that 'oh I am going to hurt you so much you bastard not worthy to be called a Plant' look. Then at Milly who didn't seem to notice the look. Milly, gods bless her sweet little heart, just smiled at him and tried to feed him some tomato soup by pretending that the spoon was an airship. Needless to say, that didn't turn out too well. Then the glare was directed at Meryl.
Now this is where the fun really begins! (Gods, when did I become so masochistic?) Meryl. . . glared right back. You could feel the lightning strikes coming from those two and the storm clouds almost brewing. I mean it. Milly and I both unconsciously backed up a step at that look. The tension in the room was so thick my hand even twitched to my side where the gun would have been.
Meryl wasn't the least bit afraid of him. And even if she was, she didn't show it. I think maybe she wanted to dare him to do something. I've seen Meryl after she's gone in to bring him a tray of food. Whew! If looks could kill, I don't think any of my bullets could have saved me. I think even Knives knew that too. Meryl might not look imposing, but when she glares, you can't help but be afraid.
Yet the look doesn't hide the fact that she's an amazing woman. I don't know if Wolfwood had meant *her* specifically when he said women were amazing. I know she is. She doesn't show it so easily, but I know that she's patient and caring and wonderful. And beautiful and gracious. . .and oh gods, I so wish I could just take her in my arms and hold her. Oh, bad thought, bad thought! Whenever I think of holding her, I feel that burn deep in my gut again, that hunger and need that had been in the desert.
It's been especially bad lately. In the beginning I had been too worried about Knives and how hard - excruciatingly hard - it was going to be when he woke up. I hadn't had time to dwell on things. And now he's awake, away from weapons, and not killing anybody and I'm no longer as worried. I'll always be concerned of course, my senses always on alert for any signs of insane and homicidal behavior from him. This is Knives after all! I'd be crazy to let my guard down! But for now, he's tolerable even if he is volubly insulting, and my mind has been freed to dwell on other things. And oh boy, has it been dwelling on *other things*.
Much to my utter discomfort and detriment, I've begun to notice little things that I never noticed before. How Milly sometimes looks sad in the evenings when she looks outside at the sunset. How a certain black cat has been hanging out on our porch every night. How the town no longer flinches from me. I've begun to notice so many things. But most of them have been about *her*.
I've begun to notice how she leans against the sink when she's washing dishes. How she has that faraway look when she comes out of Knives' room, concerned and sad and pissed off at the same time. How she always brings me donuts in the afternoons and smirks that they're leftovers though they are still warm from cooking. How her hair smells glorious in the morning. How the bathroom is steamy and smelling of her shampoo. How my skin tingles knowing she is in the same room with me. How I mouth her name sometimes - Meryl - and smile even without meaning to. I tried not to notice. But damn it! I can't help the way I feel.
Then the dreams came.
Now you might think I'm a pervert because of this. I mean, Meryl already thinks I am. In fact she reminds me almost daily that I'm a menace to society and a pervert. How do you like that? The woman I love thinks I'm a menace to society *and* a pervert. Does every guy go through this or am I just extra special? But the dreams can't be helped.
They vary from one dream to another but they always end the same way. Me. Her. In my bed. I tell her I love her. She says, Vash make love to me. I don't care anymore, just love me. I nod my head, my heart is racing so fast. Then my hands go to the buttons of her blouse, I bend my head to claim her lips, and . . . and . . . I wake up.
Who's the pervert now? Who's the pervert now?
It never goes beyond that point I bend to kiss her. I startle myself awake most times thinking that Meryl's going to bash my head in for sure this time.
But sometimes, just sometimes, I so wish that dream would continue. I so wish that I could tell her I love her and need her and hunger for her. And just once, just once I would have liked to make love to her and her to me. If only in the brief unreality that is my dreams.
But dear gods, the mind has a perverse sense of humor and the dream ends the same every night. Me. Her. My bed. And an almost kiss that never happens.
A/N: Awww.Vash loves Meryl! Vash loves Meryl!