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Chapter three: Momentary
"Another pancake, Mister Knives?" Milly offered kindly, smiling routinely.
"Yes, thank you," Knives replied politely as Milly lowered the soft, sugary disk onto his plate.
"How many is that you've had? Eight? Come on! Leave some for the rest of us!" Vash whined at his brother, scowling. Knives returned the scowl.
"You mean for you?" he corrected. Vash hissed, filching the fresh pancake off Knives plate. Knives rolled his eyes. "And eight, you say? Haven't you wolfed down a grand total of twelve, brother?" he remarked.
"I-" Vash swallowed a syrupy mouthful of the pancake. "-appreciate the finer things in life," he scoffed, smirking at his brother.
"Here, here!" Milly roared, waving fork-skewered pancake around.
Knives gave Vash a scathing look.
"And that gives you right to steal MY food?" he bellowed.
"To a degree," Vash giggled. Knives snarled loudly.
"Come now," Meryl said, making a nervous effort to intervene. The twins looked at her. "There's plenty for both of you!" Vash and Knives looked from Meryl to the great center-plate on the table, abundant in pancakes.
"Ooh," they registered slowly, both giving modest laughs.
"S-sorry," Vash chuckled to Knives. Knives shrugged, a little red in the face, helping himself to more breakfast. Milly giggled at the twins. Meryl sighed resignedly. They were always like this at breakfast.
It had been a few months since Knives' awakening and he couldn't have been less hostile, it seemed suspicious. The moment he laid eyes on Vash he simply said, "You win," as though he accepted inglorious defeat and would live on abiding by Vash's rules. To Meryl, Knives' presence in their dwelling was at first alarming and frightening but over time she learnt to live with him being a new member of the household. Milly, however, was always accommodatingly nice and polite to him. For this it seemed Knives respected her. Respected her for being a doormat, as it were, Meryl often thought bitterly.
'He's polite, I suppose,' Meryl would consider, giving him credit for that somewhat redeeming quality. And he was polite—he often volunteered to help with chores and the preparing of meals; and he wasn't that bad at cooking, either. Certainly better than Vash in the sense he could avoid cutlery melting and appliances haphazardly exploding. Despite the callous atmosphere that exuded whenever Knives was near, he did seem to make and effort to be a decent person. Of course, he acted coldly towards his brother at times but at the same time that could be excused, withstanding their differences. Nonetheless, Vash remained domineering when he needed to be. Meryl felt far safer in Knives' company if Vash was with her. Knives knew his brother would not be indecisive to put another cartridge of bullets through him, should he recover his former ideals and decide to attack Milly or Meryl. In Vash's wake he remained respectable. Reformed, in a manner of speaking.
As brothers, the twins did argue a little (Little was to say the least.) but they never seriously threatened one another or made any appalling annotations. The only thing appalling was their manners at the dinner table. But their relationship wasn't always on the cool side. Indeed they bickered until they were told to stop but, dismissing that, they also got on well at times. 'Sometimes too well', Meryl thought. Even without considering their similarity in appearance, it was easy to tell they were brothers and just as easy to see that they were twins.
"Well," Vash said, neatly pushing his plate forward. "I must be going. I have to be somewhere." He rose from his seat and strode towards the door. "Seeya!" he bade pleasantly.
"Mister Vash!" Milly called after him as he set a foot on the porch.
"Mm?"
"Aren't you forgetting something?" she posed, lightly inclining her head in Meryl's direction.
"You're right, I am," Vash replied, promptly going to Meryl's side and kissing her cheek. Meryl flushed, unable to speak with her mouth full of pancake and maple syrup.
"Bye now," he said, smiling. Meryl gave him a meek wave as he whipped out the door.
"Mister Vash seems to go out a lot nowadays, doesn't he?" Milly observed, clearing away her own and Vash's plate. This was true; Vash was often leaving the house on certain days of the week and returning four or five, sometimes more, hours after his departure. Occasionally he would return after nightfall.
Knives shook his head in disregard, tsking.
"Natural-born drifter, that one…" he said drably, sipping a cup of tea.
"That worries me a little," Meryl said bleakly. "He never actually tells us where he goes."
"Maybe he's cheating on you," Knives suggested unkindly as Milly left the room, out of earshot. Meryl turned to Knives, an unpleasant look on her face.
"I doubt it," she spat derisively, rising up from her chair but quickly sitting back down again, putting a hand gingerly to her middle.
"You never know," Knives continued calmly. "Like you said, he doesn't tell you where he gets off to." He ignored more dirty looks from Meryl, remaining composed, slipping more food into his mouth. Meryl was convinced that Vash was not cheating on her. How could he? She was pregnant, for heaven's sake! But then again it had never occurred to Meryl as a possibility. Consequently she sat mulling over it until Knives spoke out: "Then again…he does seem to love you, doesn't he?"
Meryl paused, silent. Knives registered the uncertainty in the air.
"Don't tell me he's never even said 'I love you'!" he exclaimed incredulously. Meryl scowled at him.
"My, my…" he said. "What a predicament." Meryl slammed a fist down on the table, outraged.
"I'm quite sure he does love me!" she snapped vehemently.
"I guess," Knives replied carefully though remaining quite poised. Meryl continued to glower.
"Are there many good-looking women in this backwater town?" he asked a little derisively.
"I wouldn't notice."
"I see." Knives sipped the last droplets from his teacup. "Well," he began, leaning back. "Giving my dear brother credit, it seems to me that he's not likely to cheat on you if he really does love you," he said matter-of-factly.
"Thank you so much for your vote of confidence," Meryl replied cynically.
"However," Knives added, ignoring Meryl's irreverence. "My brother's taste in women is rather impeccable." He returned the sarcasm.
"What's that supposed to mean?"
Knives smirked at Meryl. Meryl rolled her eyes.
"You're just as annoying as he is," she declared. Milly entered the room.
"Admirable fare," Knives grinned up at her.
"Why, thank you, Mister Knives! I take it you liked the pancakes, then?"
"Superb," he flattered.
Milly chuckled embarrassedly. Meryl gave Knives a wary look. She didn't trust in the slightest.
"Hmph," she pouted. Knives looked at her and suddenly she felt a furious pain in her stomach. "Ah!" she gasped, folding her arms tightly over her middle and cringing.
"Oh my! Meryl!" Milly darted to her side. "Are you alright?"
Meryl winced, although the pain gently ebbed away.
"Y-yes," she said, breathing a little heavily as the pain dulled to a small throb. "Yes, I'm fine."
"Oh good," Milly said, heaving a sigh of relief. "Would you like to lie down, Meryl?"
Meryl nodded slowly. "Yes. I think I should." Milly helped Meryl tenderly to her feet and led her into the living room.
"You're sweating, Meryl," Milly said, letting Meryl gently down onto the sofa.
"Am I?"
"I'll get a flannel. You just lie still, okay, Meryl?"
Meryl nodded weakly, laying her head down on a pillow.
"Do you need anything, Miss Meryl?" Meryl heard Knives inquire politely from the kitchen.
"N-no. I'm fine, thank you," she replied faintly. Meryl shifted nervously. For a moment, the look in Knives eyes had seemed very fierce. And she could have sworn that rather than looking at her, he had looked at her middle.
"I'll finish the washing up for you," Meryl heard Knives tell Milly.
"Thank you," Milly said. Milly reappeared and knelt down beside Meryl, dabbing her face gently with the flannel.
"Are you sure you're alright, Meryl?" she asked concernedly.
Meryl nodded.
"It was only temporary. It was just quite painful. I'm fine now, really."
"Oh, I see," said Milly. "Well you should just rest for an hour or two just in case," she added.
"But I put a load of laundry in the machine this morning and—"
"I'll take care of it," Milly cut in. "You can't work if you're not feeling well. Don't worry."
"Paperwork! The monthly report—" Meryl protested.
"Isn't due until next month, Meryl! You finished this month's report last week, remember?" Milly said exasperatedly.
"Oh yes…I guess I did," Meryl resigned.
"Just rest, Meryl," Milly sighed.
"Okay, Milly."
"Good. I'll go hang the laundry out for you then."
"I'll help you with that, Milly," Knives volunteered, appearing at the threshold.
"Thank you, Mister Knives." Milly stood up and they went outside together.
Meryl sighed, slightly relieved that Knives was assisting Milly rather than boding unfriendly presence in the room next to her. For the longest time Meryl just lay staring at the ceiling, rather bored. She tossed every so often, holding her middle as if protectively until sleep found her.
-
The weary male looked up.
"I can't sleep," he said hoarsely. The woman registered the open book on the table. She took a seat beside him, placing a comforting arm around him.
"Looking at the photo album again, huh?" she asked, already knowing the response.
The man nodded, not looking at her.
"Mister Vash…" she spoke gently. "It's been eight years."
"I know."
"Try to get some sleep," she pleaded. "You look awful. And you're going to come down with something if you start staying up to all hours again."
"I know."
She sighed.
-
Meryl opened her eyes gradually. A nice savory smell was wafting in from the kitchen and she could hear voices. She turned her head to look out the window. The light outside was gone and it suddenly dawned on her that she had slept out the whole day.
"Oh, you're awake!"
Meryl sat up and turned her head.
"When did you get home?" Meryl asked a cheerful looking Vash, her voice slightly croaky.
"An hour or two ago," he said, pacing over to the sofa and kneeling down beside Meryl.
"I see."
"Milly said you weren't feeling well today." Vash expressed a look of concern.
"Oh. No. I just got one of those fleeting pains," she verified. "I'm fine now. It was just one of those…" Meryl paused, feeling Vash's hand close gently over her own. "…one of those…" She could feel his warmth as he drew closer, his other hand now on her cheek. "…momentary pains…" She shut her eyes, a feather light touch on her lips.
"DINNER'S READY!"
They quickly jerked away from one another, Milly's voice having cut mercilessly between them. Meryl and Vash sat in awkward silence. Milly poked her head in the door, smiling as usual.
"Oh." She flushed slightly. "Did I wake you up, Meryl?"
"No," Meryl said, having to force a less irritable tone into her voice. "No. I was already awake, Milly."
"Oh okay. Well, dinner is waiting—fettuccini tonight!"
"That sounds nice. Just give me a minute, Milly."
Milly nodded and left. Meryl looked at Vash and sighed despairingly as he sniggered.
"Shut up!" she growled, her cheeks turning an angry shade of red. Vash grinned up at her.
"Stop that!" she snapped, aiming a slap at him. Vash seized her hand and swiftly planted a kiss on her cheek.
"I'm hungry," he said, gazing at Meryl with beady, triumphant eyes. Meryl couldn't force away a stupid grin.
"Me too," she snorted, letting Vash pull her to her feet and lead her into the dining room.
"Late for dinner, you cad," Knives mocked from his seat at the dinner table. Vash flaunted his tongue in Knives' direction. Milly and Meryl laughed.
-
"I know," he repeated. "But you're right."
The woman nodded, putting her other arm caringly around her friend.
"Do you still…?" he posed.
"No. I believe he wouldn't want me to live grieving for him," she replied with air of wisdom beyond her years. The man smiled.
"No, he wouldn't," he agreed, returning the hug, burying his face in the sunny cloth of his companion's pajamas.
"Thank you, Milly," he whispered. "It is important for me to stay strong."
She nodded.
"For Lavender."
Is Knives to be trusted?
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