Ahem. This is the edited version. Those of you who just have to have the smut can check out aff.net or mediaminer.org. The story is under username Scathach at both sites.
Thanks to everyone who's reviewed, and especially to Arafel for the beta.
Enjoy the show.
Chapter 8
Knives was more strongly affected by Vash's nightmare than anyone would have believed. He became even more silent than usual, and any response he bothered to make was curt and unemotional.
Meryl was only worried because it bothered Vash, while Millie did her best to bring Knives back out of his shell for his own sake. Finally, one day she asked him to accompany her into town. She had become friends with an old woman she met at the store, and since then, Millie made an effort to visit her as often as possible. She thought it would do Knives some good to get out of the house, and Vash and Meryl wouldn't worry about her leaving the house without accompaniment.
Had anyone but Millie made the suggestion, Knives would likely have balked, but as he considered her to be the least annoying of his housemates, he went along without complaint.
They approached a medium sized house with a small, fenced in yard. Someone took great care in cultivating the tiny flowers and herbs that grew there. Millie walked to the front door and knocked. A woman in a white uniform answered.
"Why, hello Millie! It's good to see you again." She was of medium height and build, with a plain face and a cheerful demeanor. Her dark hair was tucked beneath a cap.
"Hello, Sandra. It's good to see you too. This is Mr. Vash's brother, Mr. Knives." Millie introduced Vash's twin, who nodded stiffly in greeting.
Sandra turned, leading them into the house. "Well, you've got good timing. They're both awake."
"Oh, wow! It'll be nice to finally meet her sister. She's been asleep every other time I've been here," Millie said.
Millie had been eager to see the two women together. It had also occurred to her that it couldn't hurt Knives to see the interactions of another pair of siblings, especially a pair who had lived to old age. From what Blanche had told Millie of her sister, they bickered regularly, but there was no mistaking the affectionate undertone threading through all of her stories. She knew the two women couldn't be older than Vash and Knives, but she still hoped they could serve as a positive example.
Sandra led them to a back parlor. It was bright, but did not receive much direct sunlight, which kept the heat from becoming overpowering. In the room, Knives was surprised to find two of the oldest humans he had ever seen.
They both sat in rocking chairs, one on each side of a table. There was a radio resting on the tabletop, and both women had all their attention focused on it.
Sandra and Millie waited patiently for the women to turn towards them. The radio seemed to be broadcasting some an argument instead of the more familiar news or weather.
To add to Knives' confusion, sobbing and pleas for forgiveness came from the radio. Then, a dramatic organ chord was played, and a man's voice asked urgently, "Who is the true father of Sierra's baby? Tune in next time."
Only when an advertisement for a thomas stable came on did the two old ladies sigh and turn towards their guests.
The sister on the left smiled. "Hello, Millie." She had dark skin with surprisingly few wrinkles. Her skin was stretched over wide, high cheekbones, and her dark eyes were almond-shaped and slightly tilted.
"Hello, Miss Blanche. Is this your sister?" Millie looked at the other woman. She also had dark skin, although it was lighter than that of her sister. She was also larger then the other woman, and her features were softer.
"Yes, honey. This is my sister Ida Myrtle."
Millie smiled. "It's very nice to meet you, Miss Ida Myrtle. This is my friend Knives."
Knives continued to watch them curiously. Most people did not live this long on Gunsmoke. "How old are you?" he asked abruptly.
Millie gasped, while Sandra looked incredulous. "I'll just be on my way," the woman said softly. She left the room, avoiding the fallout from Knives' question.
"Boy." Blanche fixed him with a hard look. "Hasn't anyone ever told you it's rude to ask a woman her age?"
"No," he said simply. Both women gave him odd looks. "I've never seen humans as old as you. I was curious."
Millie hurried to defuse the situation. "Mr. Knives had a strange childhood. He's Mr. Vash's brother."
Both women snorted. "Ah, yes." Ida Myrtle said. "That explains everything. Some day I'll have to find out what could produce two men like you." She shook her head. "So pretty, and yet so socially awkward. He plays the idiot like a genius, and you don't seem to know the basics of acting around people."
Knives studied them more closely. Not many people could see through his brother's mask. Perhaps their advanced age gave these two women greater insight than most of the humans he was accustomed to dealing with.
"Well, I'm glad you made it, Millie. Myrt was driving me crazy going on about that bloom of hers. I told her how you admired her garden, and she's wanted to show you around ever since." Blanche rolled her eyes.
"I can't wait." Millie offered her arm to Ida Myrtle as she rose from her chair and settled herself on her walker.
"We can stop for some iced tea in the kitchen before we go out into the garden, Millie." Ida Myrtle said. The two women left, Ida Myrtle's frailer arm tucked securely around Millie's sturdy frame, and animated conversation about gardening drifted back from the adjoining room. Knives listened with half an ear, but didn't move. Flowers were Rem's thing, not his.
"So, Knives," Blanche drawled. "What do you think of these stories?"
Knives frowned. "What stories?"
"Soap operas." At his blank look, she made an incredulous noise. "Well, honey, you'll find out in a minute." She reached over and turned up the volume on her radio.
'Last time on, "Desert Rose."'
'I will never marry you. You only want me for my family's wealth. My Brock will come back and rescue me! He will rescue me!!'
Puzzled, Knives watched as the old woman leaned forward, all her attention on the small radio. He quickly dismissed the program as melodramatic tripe, but resigned himself to bearing it until Millie returned. He had long since perfected the art of protracted stretches of patience.
"…and so I told Myrt not to bother with that man, he would be nothing but trouble. I didn't believe he would make her happy." Blanche had begun talking to Knives during the commercial breaks, telling him stories about her and her sister during their youth. As far as Knives was concerned, everything up until this point had been meaningless babble.
"She had always made such bad decisions in men before, I didn't feel like I could just stand there and watch her make such a huge mistake."
Knives found himself nodding in agreement; that seemed to be enough to satisfy her.
"Yeah," Blanche sighed, "but there are some things you just can't protect against. That man wound up hurting her, just like I thought. But her next boyfriend was a good man. She married him, and they were happy together until he died. I had to learn to let her be her own person, even if I am the older sister. Getting hurt is just part of life, and everyone has to go through their own trials."
At the familiar theme song, Blanche turned her head back to the radio, and she and Knives once again immersed themselves into the world of "Desert Rose."
"Is it done?" Vash asked, hovering around Meryl as she stirred a pot of tomato sauce.
Meryl sighed. "I told you, Vash, once the sauce is done, I'll need to assemble the lasagna. Then it needs to bake."
Vash sighed, and flopped into a chair at the kitchen table. "Why can't we just have spaghetti? That doesn't take as long as all this!" He waved a hand at the bowls on the counter, filled with the rest of the necessary ingredients for the dish.
"We always have spaghetti. You need to broaden your food horizons." Meryl held on to the last wisps of her patience with effort.
"But I'm hunnngry…" he whined.
Meryl's control snapped, and she slammed the spoon onto the stovetop. "Vash! I'm the one cooking and I want lasagna, so that's what we're having today."
Vash knew the warning signs, and decided to keep any further comments to himself. Meryl fixed him with a glare for a few more moments. Once she was certain he had stopped complaining, she turned back to the stove with a satisfied sniff.
Meryl stirred the sauce a bit more than necessary, still irritated with him. She just wanted to give him something special for a change instead of the same old dinner. Ingrate.
The chair scraped on the floor behind her, and a few seconds later a pair of warm lips brushed over the nape of her neck, and long arms slid around her waist.
"I'm sorry," Vash apologized. "I didn't mean to make you mad."
Meryl sighed, and stopped stirring the sauce. "It's okay," she murmured. "I just wanted to do something different for dinner tonight." She patted his hands where they rested at her waist.
"I know." Vash sat back down. He seemed to be more or less back to his normal self. If there had been any more nightmares since the one that had awakened the entire household over a month ago, he had been keeping them to himself.
Since then, Meryl had continued to help Millie prepare for the baby, despite her constant worries. The house could be cramped enough for four adults, but once the baby arrived; the inhabitants might well reach breaking point. She made it a point to start keeping an eye out for a larger house.
At the next commercial break, Blanche blinked, and asked, "What was I talking about before?" Before Knives could respond (even though he hadn't planned on it), she continued. "Oh, yes, Myrt' s husband. Well, I was right about him, the same way I was right about the rest of the men she saw. I had taken it upon myself to chaperone the two of them while they were still courting, but I snuck out at the last minute to buy myself a new ribbon."
Knives was certain that the woman never shut up for anything other than her damn soap operas, and he couldn't remember asking for any old lady's life story. Her reedy voice was drilling into his brain, and he almost couldn't wait for the show to come back on.
"That's when I met my husband Michael." Knives looked over at Blanche and was disturbed to see a small smile on her face, the same kind his brother got when he talked about his elfin tyrant. "He was traveling through town, and if I hadn't taken a moment to do something for myself that afternoon, I never would have found my happiness."
Meryl distracted herself with the tricky job of assembling the lasagna. Sauce, noodles, filling; sauce, noodles, filling. She lifted the heavy pan into the oven with effort, then turned to Vash. "It just needs to bake for about forty five minutes or so."
An exaggerated leer crept across his face. "And what will we do for forty-five minutes?"
Meryl snorted. "The dishes?"
Vash deflated. "We're alone in the house for the first time in…who knows how long." He reached out a long arm, pulling her onto his lap as she sputtered in protest. "The dishes can wait."
"And who's going to do them? Your brother?" Meryl scoffed.
"Just relax a little, Meryl," Vash said.
He opened his legs, causing Meryl to drop slightly onto the chair's surface. Before she could complain, he brought his hands up to her shoulders and began to knead the tense muscles. The air she had inhaled to berate Vash with was exhaled on a sigh as the tension began to drain from her shoulders.
His fingers found all of her sore and tight spots and massaged them away. Meryl let her head drop forward and eyes close.
"How does that feel?"
Meryl groaned in response, and Vash laughed. "Good."
The normal response was to glare him into submission, but damned if his hands weren't working every last bit of aggression out of her body. She didn't even scold him when his hands left her shoulders and traveled lower on her back, but instead leaned far enough forward to rest her arms and head on the kitchen table. The massage was making her feel utterly pampered and decadent, as if there weren't a million and one things she needed to do around the house.
Vash worked his way down her small back, careful not to use too much force with his prosthetic arm. He smiled as Meryl sagged more and more onto the kitchen table, boneless under his ministrations.
Finally, he ran his hands up and down her back one last time and kissed the back of her neck. "All done," he said cheerfully. "How was it?"
Meryl sighed happily, not quite ready to lift her head from the table. "It was wonderful," was her sincere, if muffled response.
Vash grasped her shoulders and pulled her back against his chest. Meryl was touched by the way he made sure to arrange her so that she wasn't leaning against his grate. She didn't think he even thought about it anymore. She sighed in contentment as his arms wrapped around her, hands resting on her thighs. As far as the physical aspect of their relationship went, Vash had been a gentleman, never pushing her. Due to the cramped living conditions, they had not yet repeated their first heavy makeout session, but Vash never put any pressure on her.
On the one hand, Meryl was grateful, but on the other, she sometimes wished the choice could just be taken out of her hands. She didn't want to be responsible for moving too fast on such an important decision. She didn't know where her normal need for control had gone, but when it came to Vash, her self-confidence was still lacking.
"What's wrong? You're starting to tense up again." Vash chided gently.
Meryl closed her eyes, enjoying the vibration of his voice against her back. "Sorry."
"Want to talk about it?"
Meryl opened her mouth, then closed it. Finally she asked, "How much can you hear? My thoughts, I mean."
Vash stiffened. He should have known it would come up eventually. "Does it bother you?"
"Not as much as I thought it would…you've never taken advantage like your brother."
Vash relaxed. "Knives is more sensitive than I am. I've spent so many years among humans that I've learned to block most thoughts. But my brother isn't used to being around so many people, so he hears a lot more."
"How much more?" she asked suspiciously.
"It depends on the person." Vash laughed, nervous. The look on her face did not bode well for Knives.
"Strong emotions and thoughts are the hardest to block. That's why Knives picks up on you when you're angry. That makes you even angrier, which he finds harder to block, which makes him more irritable."
Meryl was quiet for a moment. "So all this time…"
Vash interrupted. "Not all this time. When we met, I blocked you the way I did everyone else." He smiled as she turned in his lap. "Now, it's harder and harder to keep you out."
Meryl wasn't sure what to say. "Do you hear everything?"
Vash shook his head. "No, not everything. Just the stronger thoughts and emotions." He looked at her earnestly. "I wouldn't be so invasive."
"I don't mean to imply that I don't trust you. It's just…something to get used to." Meryl shifted, making herself more comfortable on his lap. She sighed.
"Don't worry about it," Vash said. As far as he was concerned, the conversation was done. She trusted him, and that's he all he wanted to know. His mind was now on the important task of how to get Meryl to take advantage of the time alone with him. He began to stroke her thighs through her skirt, and the soft caresses became bolder as she remained silent.
"Are you trying to distract me from the fact that I have next to no privacy?" Her words lacked heat.
"Maybe," he said. His smile grew wider as she made no move to stop him. He slipped his fingers under the edge of her shirt and began to lightly stroke her bare skin, then kissed behind her ear. "I promise, later on I'll show you how to block your thoughts better."
Meryl's reply was cut off by the kitchen timer, and she sighed and slid off Vash's lap to take the lasagna out of the oven. It was bubbly and golden brown on top, just as she liked it. She drew in the aroma of tomato sauce and herbs with a satisfied breath.
Turning around, she saw Vash sniffing the air, and his eyes darted between her and the stove. She rolled her eyes. Typical. Couldn't decide whether to gorge or grope. Vash noticed the look in her eye, and turned his back on the stove.
"Have I told you how pretty you look today?" he told her, hoping to head off another lecture.
Meryl snorted. "Nice try. Don't think I didn't notice. It should be cool enough by the time Knives and Millie get back."
Vash got a thoughtful look on his face. "When should they be back?"
"About twenty minutes or so—hey!" Meryl yelped as Vash jumped up and swept her into his arms. Leaving the heat of the kitchen, he walked them into the living room as Meryl sputtered.
Vash silenced her with a kiss as he set her on the couch. He felt her sputtering indignation mellow out into an enjoyable haze, and smiled against her lips.
He pulled back momentarily, to see her eyes that hazy shade of violet-grey that he loved. Her lips were parted, and her hair mussed.
"Vash," she breathed. "What do you think we can do in twenty minutes?"
He smiled, and his aqua eyes darkened as he knelt in front of her and ran his hands up the insides of her legs, opening them slowly.
"Trust me." Vash brushed his mouth across Meryl's as she watched him in anticipation.
Skin slid along skin, and Meryl began to shiver.
Just as expected, Knives and Millie returned to the house about twenty-five minutes after Meryl had taken the food out of the oven. Knives had spent more than an hour listening to those "stories" with that old woman. In spite of himself, he found them fascinating.
All the backstabbing and greed and uncontrolled lust…all of the human race's worst qualities, showcased in one hour installments. It was all so contrived and melodramatic that he could not take it seriously…and yet the storyline had insinuated its way into his brain, distracting him with stupid questions like "Had Hope told Gerard she wanted a divorce?" or "How will Amory react when he finds out Troy is his father and not his uncle?"
The sisters themselves had captured his interest as well. It was the first time he had spent any amount of time around another pair of siblings, and their interaction was completely different from what he expected. In spite of Vash's sincere attempts to make his brother feel welcome, there was always an undercurrent of mistrust and sadness in their relationship.
Blanche and Ida Myrtle argued constantly, and it seemed as if any little thing could set them off. He wondered how they settled things now that they were too old to physically fight. As feisty as they were, he couldn't imagine the two in a gunfight, since Ida Myrtle needed both hands to support herself on her walker.
Knives was so absorbed in his thoughts that he didn't notice how Meryl served their dinner in a daze, and how Vash had an almost smug, secret grin on his face…even if he was moving a bit stiffly.
About halfway through dinner, Millie became concerned about her friend and asked, "Aren't you going to eat, Meryl?"
Meryl broke her staring contest with the tabletop and forced out a laugh. "I will later on, Millie. I guess standing over the food all day made me lose my appetite."
Millie nodded slowly, then her eyes landed on Vash. He was enjoying the lasagna with a healthy appetite, but he didn't keep his eyes off Meryl for more than a few seconds at a time. Millie hid a sudden smile.
"Mr. Knives, can you still help me with the dishes today?" Millie sang out.
"Fine." he said, still distracted by the intricate schemes of "Desert Rose." That Monica was a piece of work. She held every life in that small town in the palm of her hand. She understood what a valuable currency information was, and she made it a point to have at least one secret on every person in town. She used that power to build her own private empire.
What a magnificent bitch.
Millie helped Meryl clear the table, then sent her friend off with a plate of lasagna and an admonishment to eat it while she and Knives cleaned the kitchen. Even though she was fairly far advanced in her pregnancy, she was determined to help with the chores as much as possible. Standing over a sink full of dishes for too long hurt her back, so she had started using a high stool. A woman in town had had the same difficulty during her pregnancy, and had lent it to Millie. This way, she could still help with the dishes, even if she did need help getting on and off.
Once Knives settled her onto the stool, she began to wash and hum. The two continued the evening shores in an easy silence.
"What did you think of our visit, Knives?" Millie asked.
Knives was jolted from soap opera land by her question. "It was…interesting." He paused. "I've never seen humans that old before."
Millie smiled. "Yes, they're very old. People don't often live that long here. Miss Blanche says they've got good genes."
Knives grunted in response.
"You seemed to be enjoying yourself with Miss Blanche. What did you think of the soap operas?"
To Millie's amazement, Knives turned bright red.
"It's okay if you liked them," she said gently. "I won't tell anyone." She smiled.
"Maybe I'll ask Meryl if we can afford a radio next payday."
A/N: Special thanks to theoldfart for the Knives as soap opera addict idea…you thought I wasn't gonna use it, huh?