The time for their date has arrived, and Vash finds his bravery.

...xXx...

Vash looked at himself in the floor length mirror for the hundredth time that afternoon and sighed. No one else was home to offer their opinion, and his mind was unsatisfied with everything.

Not that his sister and Matthew hadn't piled their help onto him the past two days.

Lilli had rushed over to their apartment after her evening classes, forgoing using her precious time to work on homework in lieu of raiding his closet, much to his dismay. He didn't own many clothes to begin with—since he'd moved from Bern with only a small duffle bag of possessions—and his sister had been determined to spread every single piece across his bed. Like a puzzle only she could solve, but she left every night wishing for more pieces.

His newfound income and friends had helped him fill out his wardrobe somewhat over the years, but he still lived rather minimally. That was, at least to him, a big part of the reason why he found himself procrastinating picking something for his date.

His date!

Vash groaned as he swiftly ripped his shirt off. He picked two more shirts and held them in front of his chest, first at the mirror, then at the pile of fluff sitting in his doorway.

"What do you think, Kuma?" he asked. The dog tilted his head and Vash groaned, hanging the shirts back up and grabbing another. "This one?"

Kuma gave a boof! Vash raised an eyebrow and looked in the mirror. He held a soft, forest green button down with small white speckled dots on it. A birthday gift from Tino. The man had said it would look handsome on him, but he hadn't found an occasion to wear it yet.

Vash glanced back at Kuma. "Really? This?"

Another, smaller, boof answered him.

"I am taking fashion advice from a dog," Vash muttered to himself as he pulled on the shirt. "I really must be desperate, huh." He snorted as Kuma boofed at him again. "Oh, be quiet."

Once buttoned up, he tucked the bottom of the shirt into his dark slim jeans and stepped back to look at himself. "It's gonna have to do," he sighed. I don't have much else.

Vash spied the time on his phone and sped into the bathroom to comb his mostly dry nest of hair. The last thing he wanted to be was late to their first date—his first ever date. God, how his nerves had tightened and tightened the past few days in anticipation for it. And now that it was nearly time for him to set out, the man couldn't stop himself from bouncing in place while fixing his hair.

Styled into his usual bob with one side tucked behind his ear, a nervous habit, Vash spent a moment looking himself over. Two moments. He shifted from foot to foot.

Vash let out a breath. Time to go.

Before he could chicken out, the blond grabbed his phone and wallet, made sure Kuma had enough food, and slid on his duffle coat. He almost winced at the frayed exterior, self conscious once again. It was old, the oldest possession he owned, but it wasn't like he had any other coats to wear.

It wasn't like Roderich's pea coat. Vibrant and neat and handsome.

Vash shook himself and threw on his yellow scarf and red knit hat. Jeez, nothing I own matches, does it? He left, making doubly sure the apartment was locked, and quickly took the stairwell out of the building and onto the bustling street.

Despite it being a beautiful, sunny autumn day, the air was bitter and bleak. The sky was clear of any clouds and there was next to no wind, with the sun sauntering lower on the horizon, and Vash would bet that it was only going to get colder as the night wore on.

He was thankful that the restaurant where he and Roderich were going to meet was only several blocks from his apartment complex. Just long enough of a walk to where he'd be thoroughly chilled by the time he got there, but too short of one to justify paying for a taxi.

Vash kept an eye on the map on his phone as he went. Living there for as long as he had, the Swiss had made it a point to at least memorize how the majority of streets in his area interconnected, mostly from his apartment to the café to the university. He didn't stray often, and usually only when Lilli needed to go fabric shopping, or whenever they were invited to dinner with Berwald and Tino.

The Lighthouse was outside of his usual routes, on the opposite side of the small bridge that crossed the Iris River, named for the city's sake. He didn't know if he should have texted Roderich that he was on his way. It was quarter to seven now, and he would still, hopefully, arrive early.

The two of them had messaged each other over the past two days leading up to the date, mostly about small things late at night once Vash got home from work. Topics akin to what they'd discuss at the counter. How are you? How was your day at work? He'd discovered the Austrian owned a pair of cats, and was graced with pictures of the fluffy creatures. Simple things, and yet they made Vash's chest tingle at every reply he'd gotten.

The blond felt the flush on his cheeks, a gust of wind hitting him as he crossed a street.

Thanks to Matthew, word had spread quickly around his workplace about his predicament. Vash didn't quite know how to react the next day at work when Berwald greeted him with fresh banana bread and a smile. Him and his husband made it a point to bake him treats for special occasions, and the Swede insisted that this was one of them. Vash had nearly been unable to survive his shift due to the ribbing he received from his coworkers, good-natured as they were, and was both relieved and disappointed when Roderich didn't show up for coffee.

As Vash neared the river, his heart and feet simultaneously sped up, carrying him across the bridge quicker than he was mentally prepared for. The lightness in his stomach made him thankful he hadn't eaten much that day. He felt like a balloon drifting over the cerulean waters, and drifted to a stop as he spotted the restaurant to his left.

The Lighthouse seemed to blend into the surrounding buildings, seeming like just another red brick structure along the street facing the riverside. It had tall front windows and a wide blue, half-circular awning above the door. A stained glass sign hung from metal fixtures off to the side of the awning, shaped like a classic white lighthouse with a navy stripe swirling up the tower.

Vash double and triple checked his phone to make sure that this was, indeed, the place as he walked over. He couldn't see anything inside the frosted windows besides faint glimmering lights, but he could already feel the clamor of a crowd through the heavy oak doorway.

Stowing away his phone in his pocket, Vash pushed the door open and stepped inside.

What greeted him was more akin to a dive bar than a restaurant—he'd half expected some sort of upscale place with wines and chandeliers, a piano in the corner, not unlike Merveille across from the café. Roderich's entire style demanded elegance.

Vash was . . . surprised that this was where they were meeting. Surprised, and relieved. A fancy restaurant wouldn't have permitted him entry, what with his coat or jeans. Oh, how the wealthy despised Levi's.

No, The Lighthouse wasn't stuffed full of suits and ties or brightly decorated. The space was instead warm and rich with dark wooden walls and floors, tables and bartop, and the lighting was low, aiding to a cozier feel. There was a central wraparound bar with floor space for tables on both the right and left. A diverse amount of strange memorabilia hung on the walls; wildly braided ribbons, intertwined fairy lights, paintings of lighthouses and oceans and sandy beaches.

The thick smell of beer and woodsmoke enveloped him, and a sudden pang of nostalgia hit him. Vash had never been there before, but it felt like an unexplainable homecoming.

Slowly unwinding his scarf, Vash looked around at the filled tables and bar for Roderich. There was a small stage setup to the left of the door where an older gentleman in a tie-dye sweatshirt was playing a gentle acoustic melody on his guitar and humming. The bar was nearly packed, but it didn't feel crowded. There was plenty of room for him to walk through the free tables and passed the side booths, and soon a raised hand caught his attention.

Roderich stood from a booth at the back, waving him over, and Vash nearly tripped at the sight of him.

Date, date, date. Vash swallowed the bubbles in his throat and pushed forward. This is a date.

The Swiss tucked some loose hair behind his ear as he walked over. He cursed quietly and removed his hat altogether, busying his fingers with straightening out his hair to distract himself. He hoped he didn't look too windblown, considering the Austrian looked . . .

Perfect.

The man wore a cream-colored, knitted sweater with a loose collar that folded on one side, and small, wooden buttons holding it closed. He had slim brown slacks and loafers, and his auburn hair, near black in the hazy light of the bar, was styled into its usual delectable curl. The more he looked at him, the more Vash was sure that he had just stepped off the cover of some expensive magazine. The Swiss knew he couldn't possibly match.

Roderich smiled, and all of him burnt up in an instant.

"Hi," Vash managed to say as he walked up. He cleared his throat, knowing full well his cheeks were aflame. "I hope you weren't waiting long."

"Not at all," Roderich said with a quiet chuckle. The sound was fruity, vitalizing; it stirred his stomach like tea. The man waved towards the table and half-circle booth. "I only arrived a few minutes ago myself. Managed to snag us a table, at the least."

"That's good." Vash said as he removed his coat and scarf. "It's pretty busy."

The two of them kept their voices low like the rest of the patrons who were mingling about, their presence almost hidden in the back booth of the bar. For being so crowded it felt as if they were alone. They sat opposite each other, their coats folded on the inside curve of the booth, and the blond man tried not to let his gaze linger too long on the other, not used to being allowed to look. He failed miserably.

"Thank you, by the way." Green eyes met violet directly and Roderich gestured to him, lips tilted upwards. "For agreeing to this. To the date, I mean. Vash."

The way his name sounded in the other's accent had him floundering. Vash had to look at the table to steady himself, fingers tapping the dark wood.

"Ah, of course," he rushed, a bit breathless. Of course? What?! "I wanted to." Oh. He glanced up. "Roderich."

Roderich's smile was small and soft, as if it were just for him to see. To have.

"Well, that's comforting." Roderich chuckled again, the sound absolutely spearing Vash's chest. He turned his head and a few dark curls fell across his temple. "Tell me, do you care for beer as much as you care for coffee?"

Vash nodded. "Definitely."

"Then I've got just the thing." Roderich paused on the edge of his seat, making to get up. "That is, if you're all right with a bit of a surprise?"

Vash nodded and was gifted another smile—and like that, all of his nervousness washed away. Like the ocean tides in the paintings around them.

Roderich swiftly made his way through the standing crowd to the bar. He watched after him, the man's pale sweater easy to spy among the crowd of darkly dressed patrons, and then quickly dug his phone out of his coat pocket.

Bringing up his sister's number, he sent her a short text telling her he'd made it to the bar. She'd asked him to do so, and to let her know when he'd made it home. Vash appreciated the gesture in return, after all, when she ever went anywhere without him. Which was more often the case.

However, he didn't expect the near immediate reply of: ! ! ! ;)

Vash almost laughed at the spam of colorful heart emojis after the wink. As he put his phone down, a pilsner glass was set in front of him.

"Would you believe me if I told you that this is the only place in town that actually has authentic German lager?" Vash looked up from the dark amber liquid to the gentleman settling back across from him with his own tall glass. "All the other bars have cheap imitations or exclusively American brews."

"Is that so?" Vash couldn't help but smirk, picking up his glass.

"I suppose you'll see soon enough." Roderich tipped his glass against the other with a clink. Deep violet eyes sparkled in the lamplight. "Prost."

Vash was a moth ensnared. "Proscht."

The lager was thick and malty, with a faint sweetness. It was good. Really good. He said as much to Roderich.

"I'm glad you like it," Roderich said, clearly pleased.

"Do you come here often, then?" Vash asked. He winced at the obvious question, self-conscious all at once. "Since you know about the beer."

"As often as I can. I was lucky enough to become acquainted with this place relatively soon after I moved here."

Vash took another sip of his beer. "How long ago was that?"

"Eight years ago now, I think," Roderich answered. "Born and raised in Vienna, yet here I am. Can't say I don't miss it."

"That much is apparent from your coffee orders," Vash said, attempting a smile. He inwardly preened as the man smiled back at him. "This is only my fourth year here, myself."

"Where were you before?"

"Bern."

"Ah." Roderich nodded and tipped his glass towards him before taking a drink. "It seems we're both capital men, then. Quite the coincidence."

Vash puffed a small laugh. "Seems so."

Roderich leaned back for a moment, gaze suddenly tense. "How old are you, by the way?"

"Twenty-eight." Vash tried not to smile as Roderich visibly relaxed. "Why? Worried you picked up a student?"

"Very much so, considering I'm a fresh thirty."

Vash blinked. "Fresh?"

Roderich slid his drink coaster in a small circle, eyes flicking away from him. "Ah, yes. My birthday was three days ago." That violet gaze looked back up to him, and there was something in it that the blond couldn't quite discern. "I have you to thank for my birthday cake. So, thank you."

Ears burning all over again, Vash quickly snapped his mouth shut from where he was gaping. "Wait, really? It was your birthday?" Roderich nodded. "Why didn't you say something?"

That lilting laugh answered him first, violet eyes glittering in the fairy lights. "What was there to say? It wasn't my intention to accost you for free cake, you know." He waved his hand and sighed, still smiling. "My mother used to make Linzer torte for the occasion and I was feeling nostalgic. Figured I'd ask if the café had any. I didn't expect you to actually make it for me, let alone for free."

"Yeah, well." Vash was hyper aware of every single movement he made as Roderich stared at him pointedly. His voice pitching high didn't help his anxiety, either. "I didn't expect you to pay for it, anyway." Vash kept his gaze on where he was strangling the base of his pilsner.

He saw Roderich wave his hand again in his peripherals. "You deserve it. For the cake, and," his silvery voice became hushed, "for being someone I look forward to seeing when I walk in."

"Oh."

Vash tugged at his hair and couldn't possibly tear his gaze away from the table. His heartbeat was entirely erratic, and for a few seconds he wondered if it would ever return to normal again. He found he wouldn't mind if it never did.

This is so absurd, the Swiss thought. Why can't I react like a fucking normal human being?

The bump of a hand startled him. Roderich's long fingers were touching his own, reaching across the table to do so. Vash thought his stomach would sink through the floor as he looked up to see the other looking at him with a small frown.

"Is everything all right?" Roderich asked.

"Sorry. I'm not, um." Vash paused as his cheeks burned, looking everywhere but the gentleman. "I'm not used to this sort of thing. Dating." He pronounced the word as if it were a caterpillar crawling on his tongue.

Roderich tilted his head. "Am I being too forward?"

"No, no!" It must have been obvious just how much he was bumbling, so he might as well be honest. "I just get quiet when I'm really nervous. Sorry. I don't mean to." Vash ducked his head. "I'm sorry."

Roderich watched him for a moment, looking thoughtful. Then he leaned forward on his arms, a lingering finger lightly tapping the back of Vash's hand. "Would you like to know a secret?" Vash hesitated, then nodded. The Austrian leaned closer, lowering his voice, "I'm really nervous, too."

"Yeah?" Vash didn't like how small he sounded, but Roderich had such a gentleness in his gaze, and it had his heart fluttering.

"Yes, of course." Roderich shook his head, sincerity plain on his face. "I've been so out of my head nervous thinking about tonight that I nearly spilled paint all over myself at work yesterday."

"Paint?" Vash couldn't help his surprised laugh.

"Fortunately it ended up on the floor and not my work station, but still."

Having the hazel-haired gentleman sitting across from him, so pristine and handsome and something out of a dream, telling him that he was just as anxious as he felt, even joking with him, made his shoulders release their built-up tension from the past few days.

They both sat, taking in the comfortable moment of silence between them as the man on the stage began to play another tune. This one was still slow, wistful, with murmured lyrics to accompany it.

Roderich straightened himself then, taking a moment to smooth down the front of his sweater and scoot his beer off to the side, and met Vash's gaze head on. "How about we start over with some introductions? Since we never properly introduced ourselves."

Vash pressed his lips together and sat up more himself. He was already feeling lighter after the Austrian's admission. "Okay."

"If you think it's silly we don't have to."

"No, no, I don't think so." Vash also moved his beer out of the way and gestured towards him. "You first."

Roderich cleared his throat and held out his hand over the table. "Hallo, there, I'm Roderich Edelstein." He tilted his head again, dislodging a few more curls. "I'm thirty and from Vienna, Austria. I work at the Iris Museum of Art and History as a fine art restorer. I've been visiting this nice café for a few years now, and I only survive some days thanks to the coffee a certain Swiss barista makes for me." That small smile, just for him, bloomed once more. "I'm hoping to get to know him better."

Focusing on reaching out and taking the other's hand so he didn't stumble on his words, Vash swallowed. "Uh, hi." Roderich's smile widened and he ascended. "Vash. Zwingli. I'm twenty-eight, from Bern, mostly. Moved here with my sister for her school, and I'm a barista at The Café Raring. I deal with a lot of regulars, but there's this one. One that I think I might look forward to seeing, too." Vash licked his lips, his words quieting. "I'd also like to get to know him a little better."

They gazed at one another, hearts beating in tandem in the warmth of the bar, and shook on it. The both of them then swiftly devolved into laughter.

"Well, it seems there's only one thing left to do then," Roderich said cheerfully. He raised an eyebrow. "Dinner?"

Vash, feeling fuller than ever, agreed.

That turned out to be all the blond man required in order to loosen up, and once their food arrived Vash was comfortably at ease. It was easy talking with Roderich, after they'd thoroughly broken the ice. The Austrian man was attentive and oozed an infectious sort of calm, one that the Swiss was grateful to bask in, and the back and forth between them flowed effortlessly.

Vash almost felt ashamed for having worried so much over this. Almost. Roderich was a wonderfully distracting individual.

Over the course of the meal the two of them had unspokenly slid closer together into the circular booth, moving their coats to the outside so they could relax inside, out of sight. They were sharing a basket of seasoned potato wedges now that they'd eaten, having split a platter of sliders and mozzarella sticks beforehand, and they were both on their second round of beers.

Vash appreciated the food even more than the casual atmosphere—he could see himself visiting The Lighthouse often. Hopefully with the Austrian.

Sitting close enough to bump shoulders, if they so wanted to, Vash was showing his companion a few photos of Kuma. He'd made the mistake of offhandedly joking that the Samoyed had helped him pick out his outfit.

"He's your roommate's?" Roderich asked. Vash flicked to another picture where the massive mound of floof was sprawled out on the couch with the Canadian. The brunet chuckled. "Remind me to tell him he has good taste."

Vash exhaled a small laugh. "I've never lived with a dog before now, to be honest with you. He's a good boy. Quiet. Matt even more so. I've never met anyone so easygoing in my life."

"You two get along, then?"

"I like to think so." Vash paused. "I owe him a lot for taking me in and giving me a place to stay." He perked up and looked at the Austrian. "Not that I'm a freeloader. I pay rent just fine."

Roderich waved him down and assured, "Of course." It was his turn to pause, seeming to mull over his next question carefully. "Did you have a hard time when you first moved here?"

Vash held his hand flat and wobbled it. "Eh, kind of," he said, downplaying the truth for now. No need to have him pity me. "Getting hired at the café was a blessing. I've met so many kind people since then, and I'm doing well for myself."

"It sounds like you really care for them," Roderich said. Vash was surprised to see genuine interest in his eyes, violets so close now that he could see the flecks of blue in them. "I'm glad."

"They've done a lot for Lilli and I over the years. They're pretty much my family, ya know?" Vash shrugged a shoulder, aware of the heavy truth in his words. He ducked his head as he set his phone down. "Sorry. I don't mean to sound all sappy and stuff."

Roderich reached out to snag a potato wedge. "No need to apologize. I live for sappy."

Vash tried to keep from smiling. He was smiling a lot that evening. "Oh, yeah?"

The hazel-haired man clutched at his chest dramatically, words turning overly forlorn. "Sadly, I'm the sentimental type. I'm a sucker for adoration of all sorts." He sighed and bit into his potato. "So I can feel that you mean what you say. It's refreshing."

Picking up his own wedge, Vash gestured to the space between them. "What about you? Do you like who you work with?"

Roderich chewed for a moment, thinking. "Unfortunately." At Vash's confused look the other seemed a bit sheepish. "I work with my cousins. One is the curator; he's the one who invited me to work at the IMAH in the first place. The other is a conservator. He cleans up the majority of the artifacts for display. Occasionally I help him, but he mostly works with the statues and pottery." The brunet sighed into his potato. "I love them, but they do grate on my nerves some days."

"I understand," Vash said. And he did. "What do you work with? The paintings?"

Roderich nodded as he finished his wedge. "Paintings are my specialty, though sometimes I assist with tapestries and carpets, as well. Those usually require all the help we can get." He turned more towards the Swiss in the booth. "Would you like to see some of the pieces I've worked with?"

"Oh. Yeah, sure." Vash sat up more and leaned in to where the other was pulling out his phone.

The picture Roderich brought up was of some sort of blob of greens and browns that Vash could hardly discern what it was supposed to be. He was thankful for his companion's narration.

"This is the first piece I worked on after I moved here," Roderich told him, zooming in on the screen. "A smaller work called The River Palace by Bisset. This was such a difficult one to do."

The mournful tone of his voice was clear, and Vash was about to look up at him when the man flicked to the next picture. The painting was a big, beautiful river winding through a dense birch forest. A mountainous beaver dam in rich oranges and greys sat in the center, with a small waterfall cascading out of the side of it. There was a chubby, black beaver in the foreground waddling out of the waterway.

"It was so filthy," Roderich told him. "A homeowner found it barely covered with a towel in her cellar cupboard. To believe it survived for over a century is a miracle."

Vash blinked, eyebrows raising. He glanced between the picture and the man. "Wait. That's the same painting?"

"Yes." It was Roderich's turn to blink, and the Swiss could swear he saw his cheeks pinken just a tad darker. "I did my best with it."

Vash scoffed as the Austrian handed him his phone, and he carefully zoomed in all around the photo. He flipped between the before and after pictures, trying to wrap his head around the two being the same. They weren't. One was splotchy and looked as if some form of pond muck was slapped on a canvas, and the other was a bright and vivid capture of a woodland river.

"Holy shit, this is—" Vash shook his head, then looked up at the other. "This is what you do?"

Roderich stole another potato wedge and the blond could clearly see the flush on his cheeks now in the dim yellow light. "It is, yes. I clean up the paintings as best I can. I repair any tearing, remount them on sturdier frames, touch up any dull or faded spots. That sort of thing. Sometimes I have to repaint portions of a work entirely."

"That's amazing." Vash meant it. He was excited to see what sort of work Roderich did, considering the man knew all about his own workplace. He was suddenly starving for them to be on equal footing. "That's really . . . Wow. Do you have more pictures?"

Roderich showed him painting after painting, always telling him the title and artist. He filled him in on some of the techniques he used, or some of the problems he faced while working. Vash couldn't believe it. This man that he'd met—this man who looked like he belonged in a painting himself—somehow took literal torn rags of soiled canvas and transformed them back into art. Reviving them from corpses. The Swiss had never seen anything like it.

"I'm not boring you, am I?" Roderich asked at one point, and Vash said he wasn't. He pulled his phone back minutely, brow furrowed, unsure. "I know this isn't exactly exciting, I suppose. I've been told not to talk about my work so much, that it annoys people."

Vash was pretty sure that he could listen to Roderich talk for hours.

"Whoever told you that," Vash huffed as he dipped a wedge into some sour cream, "is an idiot."

Roderich sighed. "That he is." A beat went by. "Are you sure it doesn't bother you?"

"I'm sure." Vash gave him an honest look. "I can tell you're passionate about it, and I—" A moment of hesitance, a heartbeat in his throat. "I like talking with you."

The hazel-haired man inhaled deeply, and Vash was all at once aware again of how close they were. Their shoulders weren't touching, but their knees were, now, from being angled towards each other. The blond could smell the other's cologne, the scent flourishing between them. Something feathery, something flowery. Colored lights reflected from the bar in the glass of the tortoiseshell spectacles perched on the gentleman's nose.

Vash could simply lean closer.

Ting!

Both men startled.

Vash swiftly looked away towards his phone. He ignored the rush of heat to his cheeks as he heard Roderich exhale beside him. There was a notification on his phone: a text from Lilli. Concern soon replaced his embarrassment, and the blond brought up his messages with her as quick as he could.

-Hope you're having fun! Send a pic!

Roderich leaned towards him. "What is it?"

Vash covered his mouth, slightly mortified. "It's nothing. Just my sister."

"Oh?"

"She's just, uh," Vash stammered, cheeks still hot. He lifted his phone. "She wants me to send her a picture."

"Of us?" Vash nodded. Roderich tilted his head towards the device. "If you'd like to, I don't mind."

"We don't have to!" the Swiss rushed to say, his heart beating fast. "I don't want to be weird."

"Is it weird?" The Austrian's lips quirked upward as Vash hesitated. "No?"

Vash scorned his sister in the back of his mind, up until the moment he realized her request would mean that he would have a picture of the handsome man. His tongue couldn't run from his heart fast enough.

"Could we?" he asked, voice muffled under the resonant chatter and music around them. He glanced at violet eyes, pushing loose strands of hair behind his ear. "You don't mind?"

Roderich's smirk melted into a full smile, and Vash latched onto his assent. He scooted closer to the Austrian, and Roderich leaned in more as he opened the camera. The blond did his best not to stare too long at the sight of them—sat pressed together, tiny twinkling lights on the wall behind them, heads tipped towards each other, dark auburn hair laying over yellow, Vash tucked underneath Roderich's cheek.

The picture was taken, saved, and sent.

As Vash lowered his arm, a timid question tickled his ear. "Could you send it to me, as well?"

He peeked up at Roderich, noting the pink had returned to his cheeks. It spread to his own. "Okay."

The two of them stayed close together as Vash did just that. Everywhere that was touching the other man was warm, warm, warm. He didn't think he could take much more that night.

Ting!

Vash looked at his phone. Lilli had sent him a paragraph of nothing but WOW's that took up the majority of his screen, a rainbow of hearts, along with a slew of wildly suggestive emojis. His ears burned hot as Roderich stiffened beside him.

Then the Austrian burst into laughter, and Vash wanted to evaporate.

Oh, he was doomed.

...xXx…

It was late evening when the two men left The Lighthouse. The sun had long gone to bed, the stars shining their worth in the black blanket above, and the air was frigid enough to bring an ache to the eye. The wind had calmed itself, a relief to many, and a low fog settled upon the cobblestone streets lining the length of the river Iris.

Stuffing the ends of his scarf in his coat, Vash stood with Roderich under the awning lights of the bar. The hazel-haired gentleman had his pea coat buttoned snugly, bright azure under the lamplight, and was pulling on his own black scarf with gloved hands. Their breath, visible as small clouds, drifted into the night.

"I really liked this place," Vash said as he tucked his hands into his pockets, stepping across the cobblestone street. He leaned against the iron railing along the bank of the river and glanced back to see Roderich following him. "Thank you for bringing me here."

The brunet stopped beside him, fluorescent light from the bar softly illuminating half of his face. "It was my pleasure."

The Swiss snorted, and was thankful for the cold air on his too-warm cheeks. "You talk pretty proper, you know that?"

Roderich cleared his throat and looked away. "Does it bother you?"

"No! No, I, uh. It's different. I like it." And you. A lot. Vash swallowed the wasp in his throat and let his beer-loosened tongue admit as much. "I like you."

The Austrian glanced at him, and the blond could swear he saw a flush on the other's cheeks under the lamplight. "I like you, too," he said softly. Vash gripped the railing tighter, afraid to float away. "I had a great time with you tonight."

"Yeah, me, too." He took a deep breath, nerves and alcohol and something-unnamable-but-definitely-welcome buzzing underneath his skin. "I'd like to do this again. With you."

Roderich brightened like neon, his entire demeanor beaming—his smile and eyes alight with what Vash was becoming familiar with as genuine joy. He was still amazed that he was the one to cause the man to look so. "I'd like that very much."

The two of them watched the river drift lazily beneath them, carrying fallen leaves to a new home. Vash lifted his gaze to the night sky. It was clear, cloudless, the moon glowing and serene. The Swiss was calm, too, standing there with Roderich.

A small moment later he noticed movement at his side, and looked over to see the brunet had his phone out and held aloft sideways.

The burn in his cheeks deepened, and a small laugh left him. "Are you sneaking a picture?"

"Perhaps." Roderich said, swiftly putting his phone away and quirking an eyebrow. "Hard not to. I couldn't help myself."

"The river does look pretty tonight." The blond squinted up at the stars and over the line of streetlamps. "The sky, as well."

A gloved hand laid over his own on the railing, warm compared to cold iron. He whipped his head around. Roderich stared at him with his glittering, dark eyes, and Vash felt some of the other's light bleed into him.

"Very beautiful."

...xXx...

Prost/Proscht - A toast

Hallo - Hello

I changed the texts around, italicized are Vash's received texts.

Hope the fluff was worth the wait!