Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

"Oh, darling!" the pitch of your voice is higher than initially intended. "Have you read the newspaper this morning? My wife is on the front page!"

You giggle as your comment is undoubtedly the source of the exasperated groan resounding from the mouth of said wife. “Babe.” the blue-haired woman whines, head nearly sprawled amongst the sheets of paper shrouding the table. “You’ve been making the same joke every time I’ve written the article on the cover page.”

“But that’s because I’m proud every time!” your face twists into a pout as your feet lead you back into the dining room, a copy of the said newspaper in one hand and a coffee mug in the other. “Now come on honey, remove your notes. I wouldn’t want you to leave a stain on them.”

Meryl grumbles at being admonished, yet still mutters soft words of appreciation when the mug slides over to a surprisingly unoccupied corner of the table. Her fingers reach for the handle in an involuntary fashion.

“Want another sugar?” you ask her as she takes a sip of the warm liquid,  unsurprised when the woman silently declines by swaying her head to the sides. 

You’ve been married to Meryl Stryfe for a little more than a year, after all. That’s a year of you brewing her coffee every morning, during which you had many opportunities to learn about the specifics of her life habits. Through observation, you figured out that two sugar seems to be her normal amount; but you’d also determined that on strenuous mornings, or whenever Meryl would wake up grumpier than usual, she would only ask for one sugar. 

And today is a one-sugar morning, if that hadn’t been obvious enough just yet. 

“So, what story are you working on this week?” you inquire, gaze never parting from your wife as you sit on the facing chair. “Wait, let me guess.” Your fingers seize the drink you had settled there earlier. “Is it the article on the Inepril mayor’s fraud again?”

“Ugh, don’t even get me started.” she laments, compelling a victorious puff of air to exit your nose. “Roberto’s been on my ass about this one for weeks.” her seething frustration seems to get the better of her and she allows her face to collapse onto the table once more, ruffling the sheets upon landing. “What a headache, honestly. I mean, if he doesn’t even want to travel there to cover it, why would I?”

You tilt your head, eyes brimming with compassion. “Wouldn’t Milly accept to go with you?” you suggest, observing incredulously as Meryl exhales sharply into her written notes, nearly causing the papers to fly.

“Took the week off.” the words are near intelligible when she mumbles them, her mouth almost brushing against the wooden table. “It’s her sister’s birthday, apparently.”

You can't help but scoff at the affirmation. "Which one?"

"Hell if I know."

And yet, you’re familiar with Meryl by now. In fact, you’ve learned to know her a considerable amount, being at her side for so long. Which is why you perceive that the issue doesn’t lie in her superior’s constant pestering, nor is it because of her best friend being on leave for a while. No, there’s something else bothering her, seemingly grinding the gears of her brain.

“Now, darling,” you smirk at her amusingly. “What about you tell me what’s really happening in that beautiful head of yours?”

Meryl’s face shifts in colour: a physical reaction that she’s been continuously unable to prevent even after a year of marriage (as well as the six months of courtship that preceded). Visibly embarrassed, she decides to lift the coffee mug amidst her lips to take a sip.

She sighs as the cup makes its way back onto the table. “Honestly, I’m really starting to believe that you can read my mind now.”

“No, just your face.” you retort as if this was a sound explanation. “Now come on, speak.”

The short woman groans, certainly understanding that she would never emerge victorious in such a battle. She is aware to hold no choice but to talk; or else, her pestering (but affectionate) wife would never abstain from bothering her on the matter.

“So,” she begins the explanation, still unsure of the words she should use to disclose her predicament. “Remember that criminal I told you about? Vash the Stampede?”

You nod in attempted remembrance. "The one you wrote your first piece about?"

"Precisely."

You acquiesced once more. After all, it was nearly inconceivable to be unfamiliar with the (in)famous Humanoid Typhoon. Responsible for some much damage and destruction, he was still wanted by both the Earth Federation and the numerous bounty hunters for an astounding bounty of 60 billion double dollars. And yet, a few times throughout your marriage, Meryl had offered you her own perspective on the man she’d followed for so long on behalf of the Bernardelli Insurance Society; her personal account of Vash the Stampede far differed from the legend of a heinous monster, as perpetuated by the masses.

Where everyone thought they knew him as this cruel, homicidal murderer, Meryl had time and time recounted to you the tales of a kindhearted yet clumsy man, who despite his reputation would never harm a single soul.

And you have always been inclined to believe your wife on that front. “So, what about this Vash guy?” you grin at her, investing no effort in concealing your amusement. 

Meryl scoffs, as if she does not even trust in her thoughts. “Sources tell me he’s in December. Apparently.”

At that point, you can’t help yourself when you burst out laughing, head fully thrown back. Because not only are you thoroughly informed of Vash the Stampede’s reputation contrasting with Meryl’s opinion of him; but you are also aware that he was her first romantic crush, too. 

“Stop laughing!” your wife admonishes you, her cheeks darkening even more.

“That’s why you’ve been grumpy all morning!” you instead retort, unable to erase the smirk at the corner of your lips even once the laughter ceases. “See, you told me you were over him, but now he’s back and your heart has already turned all mushy.”

Her eyebrows draw a frown over her mesmerizing (but frustrated) eyes. “Babe…”

Yet you don't heed her warning. "That's adorable." 

"Babe!"

"What?" you chuckle again. "I just think it's cute, that's all!"

She clicks her tongue, clearly baffled by the conversation. 

You’re unquestionably aware that you’re toying with fire right now: after all, Vash is still a sore subject to Meryl. Judging from the way she explained the situation in the past, she clearly feels betrayed by him. She recognized that it had taken a while for her to even grasp that she had feelings for him in the first place; and at that point, he had been way too consumed by his quest to even discern any of it.

Meryl knew that his journey had been for something as crucial as saving the world, and thus painfully realized that resenting him for such behaviour was childish. And yet, from the bitter words she often shouted about the man in that tiny apartment you shared, you know she had never really gotten over him.

But reality conveys that you love your wife with all of your tiny heart; which also means that you’re willing to carry out a lot of things for the sole objective of making sure she was happy.

"So," you grin at her, holding your mug between the palm of your hands. "I figure this means you're still in love with him."

You’re not planning on beating around the bush; honestly, this isn’t your style at all. But Meryl, who is much more diplomatic than you are from her experience as an insurance agent, never fails to be thoroughly taken aback every time you would blurt out such crude answers.

And today is no exception: you watch with entertainment as she nearly spits out the sip of coffee she’d been gulping. 

“No.” her retort is instantaneous as soon as her body recovers from the shock; at least enough to utilize words. “I’m not.”

You pout at her, attempting to convey through every muscle in your face how unconvinced you are by her statement. “Don’t lie to me. I know you are.”

"And yet, now I'm married to a wonderful person who I love very much!" she protests vehemently. "So, whether I still feel something for him or not doesn't matter, because now I have you!"

At that moment, something flickers at the back of your mind. You know that you're bearing an idea that you probably shouldn't be nurturing, and yet you're spelling it out before you can process its implications. 

"And what about sleeping with him?" you inquire, a smug expression coating your face. "If I told you that I'm okay with it, would you do it?"

Meryl is thoroughly bewildered by the mere mention of such a vulgar idea; and yet she's not inflexible, assessed by the way her face shifts to a crimson hue you weren't even aware could be observed over human skin. 

"What the fuck." are the only words she can seemingly muster in her stupefaction.

"I'm serious!" your eyebrows are arched as you brace for her reluctance. "Who knows, maybe you'd finally get over him if you two would just…you know, wrestle it out in the bedr-"

"BABE!" 

"Alright!" you raise your hands defensively. "Alright, I'll stop." though, that grin isn't withdrawing from your face anytime soon. "But I wasn't kidding about the offer. I wouldn't mind, really."

Meryl simply groans in response, gradually reclining onto the back of her chair. "I can't believe you'd suggest something like that. Especially since we don't even know if he's really in town in the first place."

It's true that the Humanoid Typhoon's mere presence in December remains up for debate so far; from the way Meryl had worded the matter, the criminal's appearance has been nothing but village gossip thus far.  

Still, your wife leans her forehand into the palm of her hands. "I mean, I'm ready to admit I still hold… complicated feelings toward him. But to have sex with him…" she paused, noticeably hesitating. "Honestly, I don't even think he'd want something like that."

"But you said it yourself." your finger is raised as you protest. "He was always teasing you, wasn't he?"

"Yeah, but it wasn't suggestive or anything. He was just being an ass."

You lift an eyebrow. "An ass you coveted, though." 

"Okay, I'm leaving." Meryl deadpans in response, pushing herself onto her feet.

"Oh, come on babe! Don't be like that!"

Your usual domestic morning soon comes to an end, despite being far more agitated than it usually is. It's not exactly like it bothers you, of course; you'd planted the seed of doubt in your wife's mind, surmising it would flourish in the coming hours and perhaps bloom into something auspicious in the coming days. 

In the end, the only thing you truly crave is for Meryl to be happy; and you know that such a process implies that she will have to confront those entombed feelings sometime in the foreseeable future, if only to get over that irritating frustration she exhibits every time the wanted criminal is somehow involved in her life.

But now, you too are curious about the famous Vash the Stampede. He is an enigmatic character; that much is undeniable, especially to be able to leave such an outstanding impression on a woman as principled and stubborn as Meryl Stryfe. 

Clasping the door shut behind your wife as she departs for work, you can't help but grin at the thought, hoping to meet the man sooner than later. 

Chapter Text

For a few years now, you have been occupying the position of receptionist for NLBC, short for No Man’s Land Broad-Casting; the same media company for which Meryl now worked, ever since she resigned from the Bernardelli Insurance Society following the war. And frankly, you really love the job; primarily because of the fact that it had granted you the possibility of meeting the woman who was now your wife.

At the time, you would often encounter one another as she paced through the lobby, frequently heading in or out of her office; and back then, you recalled conceiving that she was perhaps the most beautiful person you had ever settled your eyes upon.

Her dark hair bounced over her shoulders, framing her features in which the true jewel were her eyes; clouded sapphires, akin to the waves swirling inside a shifting glass of water. Such beauty had reminded you of a sandstorm; seemingly harmless from afar, yet soon would you learn not to overestimate the whirlwind that truly is Meryl Stryfe.

Although you had initially been hesitant to act upon your innocuous crush because of your introverted nature, you eventually took the leap and asked her out for dinner. Honestly, even by today’s standards, it probably remained the best decision of your life; never since have you regretted it. 

So, that was advantage #1 of working as a receptionist for NLBC. And #2, impressively enough, was having the opportunity to thrive amongst the assortment of all the other receptionists of a renowned news company. Apart from meeting wonderful people all across the board, that would also mean that you were constantly surrounded by all kinds of tales and chatter. Meaning that if gossip was to achieve the bare minimum, which was to merely exist at that point, there was no doubt that it would be directly slated for your ears. 

And fortunately, such gossip has recently informed you of the exact location for which Vash the Stampede is headed tonight. 

Meryl, however, is unaware of that fact as she’s seated across from you at the table, in a bar that is perhaps the furthest establishment of that sort in the entire city when the starting point is your apartment. The young journalist exhales sharply as her hand reaches for the glass of beer that glided right in front of her barely a few seconds ago. “Why did you want to come here again?” her question is laced with skepticism. “Don’t tell me you’ve been scheming something again. Is it for my birthday?”

Nope, you grin, if mainly to yourself. I already have something planned for it, but this is much different. 

“I’m not plotting anything, I swear!” you instead elect to say in an attempt to defend yourself. “Barbara’s the one who told me about the drinks here.” your fingers clasp around your own jug, freezing to the touch because of the ice submerged in your sugary cocktail. “Besides, you honestly deserve a break after the long week you’ve had.”

Meryl scoffs, lazily shuffling a strand of hair behind her ear. “Yeah, tell me about it…” there’s feasible exhaustion in her voice; even if she hadn’t been your wife, you were sure you would have perceived it from miles away. 

Fortunately, the fatigue is not substantial enough to dissuade her from taking another sip of her ale. Her face appears to brighten up at the taste.

“Hm, you’re right though.” the journalist admits, seemingly impressed. “It’s really good.”

“See, I told you you’d like it!”

“Who was it again that told you about this place?” she arches a brow out of confusion. “Barbara, right?”

You hum approvingly, pleased to acknowledge that she remembers. 

Although, this does not seem to cure your wife’s confusion. “I don’t think I’ve ever heard of her before,” she admits, her eyes briefly peering at the void in front of her as she ostensibly attempts to summon the information from the back of her mind.

“She’s new at the office, actually!” you clarify the matter for her and something in Meryl’s brain seems to unravel by the way her mouth adopts the shape of an “O”. “Arrived last week, if I recall correctly. She’s a few years younger too; said she tried nearly every bar in the city. And this one,” you throw her a smirk, “is apparently her favourite.”

Well, this is not exactly the truth. Although Barbara has told you about her drinking mishaps amongst the streets of December, tonight’s choice of bar had not been influenced by your younger colleague in the slightest. If anything, you don’t recall her even mentioning the place back when she was enumerating the taverns and pubs she visited in the past. 

Good thing you're a good liar. 

“I’m not sure how persuaded I am by a kid’s recommendation.” Meryl giggles, completely oblivious to the deception. “Honestly, I’m way too old for bar crawling now.”

Although shaking your head disapprovingly, you can’t help but mirror the curve at the corner of her lips. “I don’t think she meant it like that, though.” you object to her statement. “Still, this place is pretty relaxed so far; I don’t think we’re in for juvenile shenanigans.’’ 

“Darling, it’s a Tuesday night.” Meryl deadpans at you, visibly unimpressed. “Of course it’s going to be calm.”

You have no time to protest her quip that the front door batters open, revealing the shape of a lone man dressed in a beige buttoned-up shirt and dark pants; his spiked hair is even darker, nearly charcoal in colour. There’s a tiny golden hoop hanging off his left earlobe while his pale eyes seem to be partially concealed by a pair of orange-tinted round glasses. 

It takes you a few instants of acute reflection, but you eventually recognize the man. Sure, it’s difficult for you to confirm it; it appears that he now shares next to no similarities to his otherwise famous wanted poster, which is nearly plastered onto every single wall in tow. But Meryl had seized the exclusive opportunity of meeting him after the war; she even captured a few photographs, which depicted the exact same man that is now awkwardly standing a few feet away from you. 

He is obviously not wearing his signature crimson coat; to avoid being identified as the Humanoid Typhoon, perhaps. Even such abhorred criminals sometimes craved the taste of an alcoholic beverage, like everyone else on this poor excuse of a planet. But still, you recognize him beyond the shadow of a doubt. 

Maybe it’s that certainty in your eyes that causes him to flinch; or perhaps it’s merely the sight of the short-haired woman seated in front of you, who seems so far wholly unaware of the scene transpiring behind her.  In either case, you’re about to find out: because Meryl notices the frantic oscillation in your stare and frowns. “What’s up babe?” she inquires worryingly. “It looks like you’ve seen a-”

Her body ceases its pivoting motion, eyes now presumably meeting the Stampede's.

"-ghost." she mumbles that last part.

The rest of the bar is unconcerned by the silent battlefield it is about to host as the two old friends share a meaningful gaze under your watchful eyes. Soon, the man flings them a greeting, swaying his hand nonchalantly; meanwhile, you can almost hear your wife soundlessly seething in front of you. 

You know very well that Meryl would never extend her hand his way of her own volition, and judging by what you are peering at from across the tavern, Vash does not seem complacent enough to make the first step either; meaning that if you want these two to communicate, you’re going to have to do things your way. 

In a gesture that is devoid of reticence, you cheerfully reply to Vash’s gesture before motioning to him to come nearer; much to Meryl’s obvious dismay.

“What are you doing?” she hisses, as quietly as her outrage allows her to be. “I don’t wanna talk to him!”

“Well, I do!” your protest is cheerful but calculated; you’re utilizing that tone of voice, the one you aptly know can make your wife surrender to your every inquest. “Come on babe. You’ve told me so much about him: the least you could do is introduce us!”

Meryl’s features shift to an appalled grimace. “Absolutely not.” she scowls. “And if he gets any closer to this table, I’m calling the cops.”

Oh well. Sensing that you may not be able to make her budge on that one, your features twist into a pout. “Honeyyyy...”

“No.”

“Didn’t you say you wanted to reconcile with him anyway?” the suggestion is genuine; even if it’s not exactly how your wife would have worded it. 

The footsteps are echoing over the wooden plants; perhaps Meryl is too deafened by her animosity to hear them. “No, that was your interpretation!” her voice is slightly louder this time. “You made that up yourself!”

“But you’ve been whining for months!” your exclamation is nearly theatrical, highlighting the sympathy interweaved in your tone. “About how much you wished to see him again!”

Her cheeks slip to a pinkish hue. “I-”

“See who again?”

The foreign voice startles you both, urging you to spin around swiftly to stare at the wanted man. His elbow is now leaned over the tabletop, chin into the palm of his hand as he stands nonchalantly in the midst of your heated argument. His gaze shuffles between the two of you, allowing you a better view of his side profile; seems like his eyes are mint after all. 

It’s only following a few seconds doused in uncomfortable silence that Vash addresses you again. “Also, hi.”

Smile stretching onto your lips, you watch amusingly as Meryl’s face changes hue again; unsurprisingly, it’s not getting any paler. 

Nevertheless, you are not exactly inclined to steal the spotlight amidst their grand reunion, instead prompting yourself to another modest gesture of the hand that feigns a polite yet silent greeting. 

Especially since the performance playing in front of you is merely beginning. 

“You must truly be mad, coming in here like this.” Meryl’s voice is razor-sharp as she distinctly spells out every word of what sounds like an accusation. 

Meanwhile, Vash simply raises a brow. “I mean…” he mumbles, unsure where to settle his gaze. “I just wanted a drink.”

“In the same bar as me.” the journalist scowls at him, ignoring his objection. “Impressive coincidence.”

Her bare-faced sarcasm does not seem to upset the Humanoid Typhoon in the slightest; if anything, it’s completely baffling to you that the corner of his mouth seems to stretch in a looping grin. 

Meryl was right: this man is a genuine mystery.

Instead of brooding, the dark-haired man winks at his friend mockingly. “You’re just saying that because you missed me.” he taunts her, dramatically flaunting his face for additional emphasis. 

Yet it appears that your wife is not willing to seize the bait. “Oh, not in the slightest.” she declares, despite the crimson on her cheeks displaying quite the contrasting narrative.

Vash laughs in response; all the while you’re watching the show unfold in a blend of delight and disorientation. That is, until his head turns and he’s staring at you with a wide smirk. 

“So, Meryl,” he says, startling your wife as she visibly jumps at being addressed. “Care to introduce me to that lovely babe you’re taking out for dinner?” 

Accentuating the flirtatious nature of his words, he does not waver in being straightforward in his actions too; by the way, his eyes wander over your form, it is unmistakable that he’s taking advantage of the situation to check you out, which simultaneously allows you to imitate the gesture.

The man is handsome, there is no doubt about it; where his baggy pants don’t seem to revere his physical form all that much, his blouse plainly outlines the curves of his muscles as it shifts slightly beneath the tiniest of movements. His dusky locks look soft to the touch despite their prickly fashion; ultimately the only thing you deplore is to be unable to peek a good glance at his emerald eyes, partially concealed by the hue of his glasses. 

Quite frankly, from physical appearance alone, you can definitely understand what Meryl had seen in him all those years ago. As for personality, well…

At least there is still much to discover on that front.

But it seems that Meryl is not entranced by reverie like you are; she instead glares daggers at her friend, forehead nearly wrinkled by her frown. “That’s my spouse, Vash.” she hisses without an ounce of hesitation. “We’re married.”

Hearing these certitudes being voiced with such conviction inclines you to beam proudly, your tiny heart beating faster. But something else catches your eyes amidst the enchantment; there’s a brief yet perceptible emotion flickering at the back of Vash’s gaze. 

“Oh,” he replies, and you can only suppose that emotion is regret. But his expression soon shifts and he is smiling again. “Congratulations! I wasn’t even aware you’d gotten married.”

“Last year.” her tone is bitter as she sustains his gaze without interruption. “Or maybe you would have known if you bothered to check on your friends, once in a while.”

The indisputable advantage of loving your wife so much means that with time, you have become somewhat of a professional at deducing her feelings merely by observing her physical state. And now, thanks to the training granted to you by domestic life, you are able to draw conclusions from the tiniest shifts in her mannerisms. The meagre bite marks left on her bottom lips, for example, or the faint puff of air blowing from her nose; it’s all discernable signs of disappointment. 

Vash is oblivious to such mental anguish from his friend; or perhaps is he simply choosing to ignore it. “Hey!” he protests, lifting a finger accusingly. “Last time I was in December, a cop whacked me with his car! I wasn’t exactly looking forward to repeating the experience, so I kept my distance.”

Meryl’s fists clench into her palms; and that’s how you know that the anger is back. “Well, maybe if-”

You can’t exactly admit that you are still listening to them by that point. Sure, mindless bickering is entertaining for a minute; but not when it has been stretching for what nearly feels like an eternity. Frankly, you are inclined to make a lot of concessions for your wife’s happiness, but tolerating what feels like two children’s enclosed tantrums is very much your limit. 

“ALRIGHT!” you shout, pleased to notice that the increase in tonality garners the two friend’s attention (and probably half the bar’s, too). Determined to take advantage of such heedfulness, you turn toward the black-haired newcomer with a smile. “Vash.” you spell out his name, to which he replies with a respectful nod. “Believe me, I’m very happy that we can finally meet after I’ve heard so much about you. But,” you pinch your lips together, tilting your head, “Maybe you should cut my wife some slack here. She’s pretty much in shock over the fact that you’re actually here, you know.”

Meryl obviously does not agree with your admonition, if you’re to judge by the way words are muffled in her mouth before exiting intelligibly. “You-”

“As for you, honey!” you waste no time in pivoting your body, to fully face her from across the table, gaze nearly a reprimand in and of itself despite the curl of your lips. “Be a bit more positive! You should be happy to tell him about our engagement, not bitter!”

It appears that your words are genuinely making their way through the synapses of their brains; which is quite a relief for you too. Whatever it is that you are planning, you are really wishing for it to work. 

Instances of stillness pass by, nearly drowned in the batter of noises coming from the bar. Ultimately, the two squabbling friends exchange a perceptive gaze before turning back to you.

“Sorry.” they both mumble, and it’s almost simultaneous. But so is the glare they subsequently share. 

You nod, satisfied by the answer. “So, now that we’re all friends again.” your sheepish grin is telling; and if Vash is probably none the wiser, Meryl undeniably knows you’re scheming something by the glare she throws you. “What do you say we have a few drinks?” Briefly glancing at you and your wife’s still full glasses, you shift your head to the booze-less newcomer. “First round’s on me!”

Vash appraises you for a second, presumably analyzing the offer; but it doesn’t take long and he’s already laughing. “Won’t have to ask me twice!”

Meanwhile, Meryl allows her head to tumble down onto the table with a heavy groan. 

“Come oooooon…” Vash sings, poking her. “It’ll be just like old times.” 

It takes a while before she finally complies, hoisting her dejected gaze back toward you. “Fine.” she ultimately whines. “But no getting shitfaced tonight; I have an article to write tomorrow.”

You nod at her with an affirmative grin; because you were most definitely planning to get shitfaced tonight. 

Chapter Text

“You know what’s, like, really funny?”

Meryl’s speech is often disrupted by hiccups as her mouth lingers on the edge of her glass. Despite the alcohol-induced blur in your vision, you gaze at her with nothing but profound adoration. 

Although, you soon grasp that silence befalls you all; as Meryl awaits a response, Vash is drowsing off the table corner and you keep standing there, nearly drowning in the surge of her eyes. Such a sudden realization means that the responsibility for keeping the exchange alive is now indubitably enforced upon you. 

“Mh?” the sound belatedly leaves your mouth, muffled by your skin as you’re reclining your chin against the palm of your hand. 

“What?” Vash joins the conversation. 

“That one time,” Meryl states, head turned to address Vash; but it’s hard to infer since her eyelids are shut. “When you fell off a roof.”

You can’t help but gasp as your focus fully shifts to the dark-haired man. “You fell off a roof ?”

The Humanoid Typhoon props his head upwards with an accusing glare. “Oh,” he lifts a finger towards the blue-haired woman. “You mean when you pushed me off a roof.”

Another gasp. “Meryl!”

Still, you can’t help but snicker; judging by how much you know your wife and her erratic temper, you have no problem visualizing the scene. 

Meanwhile, Meryl raises her hands defensively. “The villagers were onto him!” she exclaims as if this was a rational excuse for what was an otherwise heinous crime. “If I hadn’t done anything, his ass was getting thrown into jail.”

“You know I can jump, right?” he frowns, mostly confused if anything. 

“Jump where?” Meryl scoffs in return. “The floor? You would have crashed face-first into the sand.”

Vash huffs, contending to defend his wounded pride. “I can jump very high, I’ll have you know.”

Meanwhile, you take yet another sip of what is starting to grow into a very tasteless drink. 

Your wife imitates your motion, swallowing another gulp of beer before shifting her attention back to Vash. “Hope you’re better at jumping than staying out of trouble, then.”

He merely shrugs in response. “Debatable.”

“Yeah, I wouldn’t have too much faith in that either.” 

Nearly choking on your drink from laughter, you’re forced to grab the napkin sitting in front of you to wipe the corner of your mouth. 

“Hey, you’re mean.” Vash pouts, earning himself a dejected scoff from the journalist.

“And you’re the worst.”

It’s his turn to sip on his drink; and at that point, you’re unsure how a man can consume as many beers as he had and still remain coherent, let alone conscious. However, he stays oblivious to your contemplation, instead choosing to jokingly wink in Meryl’s direction. “Hey come on now!” he smirks. “You’re only saying that because you like me.”

Oh, that’s bound to cause a ruckus. 

You know your intuition is accurate when you catch your wife’s face shuffling through what nearly looks like the full lineup of warmer colours. Even as she opens her mouth to violently protest, she’s only able to stammer unintelligible words. 

Ultimately, she inhales a drawn-out breath, all the while you can almost hear the gears scraping the insides of her brain. “I can’t do this anymore.” she declares, the chair legs grazing the floor as she leaps on her feet. “I’m leaving.”

Both you and Vash simultaneously stand up at the indication, displaying that you are disposed to take off alongside her. 

But Meryl only glares at you incredulously. “To the bathroom.” she specifies, spelling out every word slowly as if she is explaining the basics of conversational skills to children. 

You both waste no time sitting back down. “Take care!” you tell her, blowing a kiss. “And don’t miss me too much.”

Although not without exhaling sharply, she eventually manages to give you the slip, shuffling amongst the other tables of the bar at a wobbly pace. You keep your eyes glued to her, just in case; at least until she disappears behind the swing door of the washroom. 

Once you are certain that Meryl is not going to wind up at the counter to ask for another drink (you figured she had consumed a sufficient amount already), your attention shifts to Vash who, much to your surprise, appears to be reaching for your wife’s unattended glass. 

You raise a brow, causing him to freeze as he is caught red-handed. “Trust me.” he asserts with an assured shake of the head. “She doesn’t need any more.” 

You hum approvingly with a grin and he interprets that silence as approval, tugging the glass toward him before bringing it to his lips. 

“And so, the Humanoid Typhoon keeps on leaving chaos in his trail." you chuckle. "Shockers.”

He takes another gulp before lowering the beer, shifting his confused gaze your way. “What?” he’s definitely dazed, but you’re not sure if it’s your statement or simply the alcohol at play. 

“Don’t tell me you’ve never noticed.” you deadpan at him, and now he looks even more disoriented. 

“You’re losing me.”

You sigh, perhaps only now realizing that this isn’t exactly the best approach for the conversation you’re choosing to have. “You’re aware that Meryl is madly in love with you, right?”

Vash does not budge at all; the only thing telling you that he hasn’t fallen asleep is the slow blink he offers you. 

Still, you’re not planning to let the matter rest just yet. “She’s always going on and on about you, about how the world doesn’t truly appreciate you for what you really are. She’s gushing about you guys’ adventures all the time. Believe me, she’s angry at you now, but-”

“She’s angry all the time.” Vash interrupts you, to which you raise a hand to shut him up.

You sigh. “Yeah, well that’s Meryl.” your head tilts slightly at the admission until your eyes are carried up to him again. “But Vash, that girl loves you. Call me dense, but I’m pretty sure she thinks you hung the moon.”

Vash visibly recoils at the comment; you’re not exactly certain why that is the case, and yet he leaves no time for you to ponder upon the matter. “Yeah, I figured.” there seems to be an emotion dwelling behind his eyes; something akin to sorrow, perhaps. 

You arch a brow. “Did you, now?”

“But it just… never seemed like the right opportunity, y’know?” he explains, gaze seemingly lost in the fog of his thoughts. “I deduced that she had feelings for me, even through her irritation. Things were never lining up, and then the war didn’t make anything easier.” he scoffs to himself. “Hell, it’s not exactly easy now, either.”

“Right.” the motion of your head is proof of your attentiveness. 

“But she’s young, she’s sharp, she has her whole life in front of her… I felt like I couldn’t do that to her. Wasn’t worth breaking her heart.”

“Mh.”

“And well, you might have figured it out by now, but it’s not exactly like I can settle down anywhere. If I stop moving for a second, I’ll have the police from all Seven Cities on my ass.”

As he sighs, you estimate that he is done getting everything off of his chest; at least for now. But now, there lingers an uncomfortable stillness, only shattered by the background noises of your surroundings. 

Surely, he does not notice how convoluted he makes the situation seem when really, the solution can be much, much simpler.

You exhale sharply at the thought. “Ugh. Men.”

Vash slowly blinks at you again; assuredly because he does not know how to appraise you just yet. 

“What?”

“Okay, never mind all that.” you nearly hurl your drink on the tabletop, now fully focused on the man in front of you. “Forget the brooding. I’m asking you, Vash. Do you love her ?”

Vash visibly freezes at your inquest, unsure of what to reply. “Well…”

Somehow, you know he’s about to dodge the question right about now. “Do you?”

The seconds tick by, although the alcohol still muddles your senses and you’re wondering if it hasn’t been minutes or hours. Vash glares back at you, and for a while, the words seem to linger on the fringe of his lips. Another eternity passes you by; and then, finally, he sighs. “Pretty sure I do, yeah.”

Pleased with the confession, your hands are smashed over the wooden surface as the corner of your mouth stretches into a proud smile. “Well, ain’t that so simple!”

Your reaction seems to draw Vash out of a trance; he reclines back into his chair and raises a brow at you questioningly. “Why are you asking me all of this anyway?” he asks, fingers fiddling with the base of Meryl’s glass. "I'm not planning to crash your marriage, if that's what you're worried about."

His inquiry is reasonable; you’re willing to lend him that. "Oh don't worry: I'm in love with Meryl and I'm confident she loves me just as much,” you smirk. “But she loves you, too; and I'm not sure she's ever going to move on from it, especially not with the way you've toyed with her heart." 

His eyes rapidly flicker between you and the ground. “I’m sorry,” he says, head shooting upwards once he hears you chuckle. 

Next thing you know, you can’t stop yourself from laughing. Maybe it’s the booze or the comicality of the situation, but one thing is certain beyond any doubt; this is the most fun you have had in a long while.

“What are you apologizing for?” you wipe a tear prickling at the corner of your eye. “I don’t need her to get over you. Honestly, I’m good with whatever happens; as long as she’s happy.”

This does not seem to have cleared Vash’s befuddlement in the slightest. “What are you suggesting?” he asks, tilting his head to the side as he took another gulp from Meryl’s drink.

You shrug innocently, shifting your drink to your lips. “Well,” your eyes meet his’ over the hazy surface of the glass, which conveniently conceals your grin. “Last time I offered, she wasn’t opposed to sleeping with you.” 

Watching as Vash nearly spits the alcohol from his mouth in surprise, you have to exhaust all of your remaining self-restraint to keep yourself from bursting into laughter once again. He spends a while merely gawking at you, visibly in awe. “Wait.” he then stammers a few incomplete words before pursuing. “Sleep, as in… having sex?”

The next time your eyelids close, it’s at a deliberately slow pace. “Yes, sex.” you deadpan at him. “What are you, a child?”

“You’re asking me if I want to have sex with a married woman.” he retorts, frowning intensely. “Sorry if I’m a bit baffled by all this.”

You scoff back at him. “Yeah, and her spouse is the one making you that offer.” you remind him, once again lowering your drink. “Look, hear me out here.” you’re getting the feeling that he’s attentive; but to his merit, he has been oddly enthralled by the integrality of your conversation so far. “Meryl is amazing: I know that, and you know that too. What I’m saying is, if you’re interested in her that way, you shouldn’t miss out on that chance.”

There’s another silence instilled between the two of you; although this time, you know that it’s not arising from awkwardness rather than contemplation. You figure he’s considering your proposal, weighing the pros and cons; even if frankly, you can’t really see where the cons would reside…

But, you are also aware that you are not in his shoes; after all, there's no telling how heavy is the burden he's carrying, and you have a feeling that Meryl does not really know either. Whatever his decision would be, you infer that you will have no choice but to abide by it.

Fortunately for you, the corner of his mouth stretches into a grin. “I mean…” he mumbles. “I’m not opposed to it…”

You’re overjoyed by his approval, taking yet another sip of your now extremely tasteless drink as a reward. 

But all these sips are not getting you any closer to being sober; if anything you are unable to recall the last time you were this drunk. Which, conceptually, is not exactly helping in allowing you to read the room to avoid blurting out the first ridiculous thing flashing through your brain. 

Too bad you’re absolutely wasted, too. “Besides,” you begin talking, unable to follow your thoughts for long enough to aid them in catching up to your flapping lips. “If you two are open to letting me join…”

You hear Vash nearly spewing out his drink once again, even though you can’t focus on his form for long enough to corroborate the event. Through fuzzy eyes, you can muster that he is now staring dead at you. “You are the weirdest person I’ve ever met.” his voice feels accusatory, but fortunately, you detect the following scoff. “And believe me; that’s impressive, because I’ve met a lot of weird people before.”

Grinning from ear to ear, you’re too focused on trying to discern his shape through the blur that you miss the sound of footsteps in front of you. “I’ll take it as a compliment, considering that you haven’t outright turned me down.”

“Turn what down?”

You instantly recognize Meryl’s voice echoing above you, prompting your gaze toward her with a swift gesture of the hand.

“Nothing!” Vash instead retorts, and you can almost hear your wife glaring him down accusingly. Eventually, you notice her arm reaching for the table, suddenly tugging on the stem of her glass as it was still clenched into Vash’s hand. 

She audibly sneers at him. “Whatever, thief .” her attention shifts to you in a demeanour that is much softer. “The barman flagged me on my way back; said they’re closing up shop soon. We should think about settling our tab right about now.”

“Alright, gotcha.” you throw her a wink before turning to Vash, who’s still grieving the loss of his free drink. “So, are you good to get back to your place?”

The dark-haired man blinks a few times, unmoving: you would be unsurprised to find question marks in place of his pupils. “My place?” he asks, and he looks like a child learning new words. 

“Yes?” you nod slowly. “Your place? Where you… go to sleep?”

“Uh…” there’s an audible sound as he clicks his tongue. “About that.”

You hear Meryl groaning at your side. “Oh, for fuck’s sake.”

“I actually got kicked out this morning.” Vash is at least rational enough to offer them a sound explanation. “The landlady recognized me and begged me to disappear. But hey, she was kind enough to wait an hour before calling the cops!” he chuckles, but it’s mostly to himself. “Talk about lucky.”

You know from observing your wife that she is far from being affected by his tale of woe. “Mh, cool story.” she shifts her attention back on you. “Ok babe, let’s go.”

It’s not exactly like you had contrived an exhaustive plan beforehand; if anything, it is much more true to yourself to let things flow and figure it out along the way. And yet, you discern that you would have to be blind to overlook such a silver-plated opportunity; all the effective components were nearly jumping in your lap.

So when your mouth opens, determination shoots through your veins: you are not allowing Vash to walk out of this bar alone. 

“You can crash at our place if you want!”

Meryl is swift in her protest. “Absolutely not.” she reprimands you, even slamming her empty glass on the table for emphasis. 

“But honey!” even as you pout at her, the motion is calculated; all because you know she’s weak to it. “We have a spare couch!”

She shakes her head disapprovingly. “The couch is broken.”

You sigh, perfectly aware that this was going to require a lot more commitment for it to work. Seizing her face between the palm of your hands, fingers brushing over the skin of her cheeks, you stare her down softly; and you know that all the affection in the world is reverberating in her eyes. 

“Meryl.” your voice is delicate yet earnest; like smooth sand threatening to whirl under impending winds. “Darling, sweetheart, the apple of my eye. You’re the kindest and most thoughtful person I know. Don’t tell me you’re okay with your friend sleeping on the street!”

Your wife is sustaining your gaze intensely, perhaps struggling not to drown through its gale. Soon after, she exhales sharply, and you know you’ve won.

“Ugh,” she whines. “You know I can’t say no to that face.”

“My strongest suit.” you giggle, hands rubbing her cheeks longingly prior to grazing a kiss on the tip of her nose. “So,” without disentangling yourself from what has become an embrace with Meryl’s arms now circled around your body, you shift your attention back to Vash. “Are you okay with the couch?”

He’s sitting completely still; visibly unsure where to settle his limbs. But as soon as you send him a wink, he appears to seize the message. “Oh, absolutely!” he exclaims, beaming at you. “I shall now forever be in your debt.”

“Please don’t.” Meryl grumbles, head nestled against your body.

You’re physically unable to stop grinning.

About fifteen minutes and three paid tabs later, the three of you wobble out of the bar, arms interweaved within each other. Tightly holding on, you all know perfectly well that the first daring enough to let go would forcefully earn themselves another drink; a guzzle of street sand. 

Chapter Text

The journey back home was far from easy. Swerving between the moving vehicles, the strolling crowds of inebriated people and the topography of the town, it seems like the whole world was playing against you in the form of a truly comical tale; and yet, fortunately, none of you were unlucky enough to get seriously injured amidst the pilgrimage.

Well, that is until you actually entered the apartment. 

As you all tumbled inside, Vash wasted no time in tripping over the doorframe and instantly slammed his entire body into the countertop in what was perhaps the loudest thing you’d ever heard. He spent the next few seconds wincing, curled up on the floor, while Meryl and you were unable to stop laughing; much to his dismay. 

Now, around fifteen minutes later, most of which had been spent in near uncontrollable hilarity, you are on your way back from the kitchen, two glasses of water clutched in your hands. But as your feet lead you through the apartment, the sound of faint voices urges you to halt your pace. 

“Ouch.” you can distinctly hear Vash’s wince; as you peak into the doorframe of your bedroom, you notice that they are both sitting over your bed. Meryl is leaning toward him, visibly disinfecting a nasty cut that cleaves the man’s forehead; certainly the result of his unceremonious plunge from earlier. 

“Cope and seethe,” Meryl replies dryly. 

“You know,” his voice is soft, and yet his body is ostensibly tense. “You don’t have to do all that work. It’s just a little cut.”

Your wife huffs in response. “Yeah, well, if only you’d been looking at your feet …”

“Oh, sorry.” even from afar, vision clouded by faint darkness, you can practically hear him grin. “It’s just that I was so busy looking at you.”

You sigh. What a shitty pickup line. 

Meryl must have thought the same thing because barely a second later you hear Vash wince again; your wife must have wiggled the disinfectant over his wound with a bit more strength than necessary. 

“Ouch!” 

You decide at this point that they require an intervention. "You okay?" you take a step through the doorframe, your voice seizing the attention of both occupants of the room. 

Vash’s focus instantly snaps to you, dread swelling his eyes as if he’s about to get mauled by a wild animal. “No, she-”

“He’s fine.” Meryl interrupts him without a hitch, reapplying the cloth to his forehead.

It’s difficult not to laugh at such a display; two long-time friends bickering like children on a playground. But as amusing as it may be, you figure this might require another interference if you want to keep Vash alive for a little while longer.

“Alright, babe.” your hand reaches for your wife’s shoulder, fingers lingering against the skin of her uncovered shoulder for a few seconds longer than necessary. “Let me take over for a sec, I think you might be killing him.”

“This is disinfectant.” she raises a brow, visibly confused. “Not poison.”

You chuckle. "Yeah, well, I don't trust you. Scoot over."

You hear Vash’s sigh of relief as Meryl climbs down from the bed, allowing you to slip yourself to her spot instead. For a few seconds, your gaze follows her when she lets her body slide to the floor, eyes closed as she reclines her head against the mattress. 

But your attention is soon enough brought back onto Vash, who’s peering at you in delight; you can’t help but mirror the curve at the corner of his lips. “Hm… seems fine.” your finger sweeps over the wounded skin until you’re ready to reapply the antiseptic wipe, with much more tenderness this time around. 

“See, this is much better.” he snickers, eyes flickering to Meryl’s crouched form before drifting back to you. “Tell me, are you an angel or just a nurse?”

Meryl does not even grant you the possibility to retort to his forthrightly laughable comment. “Both can still punch you in the face” she groans at him. “Dumbass.”

Still, you allow yourself a chuckle as your hands shift away from Vash’s face, instead focusing on tidying up the various medical supplies that were scattered over the sheets. This also means that you barely catch the man’s impending smirk, only lifting your eyes when he pivots his head toward your wife nonchalantly.

“Hey, Meryl.” he beams at her; you can almost hear the storm brewing.

Meanwhile, the short woman remains leisurely curled up on the floor. “Mh?” she does not even bother opening her eyes. 

“Do you have feelings for me?”

The question sends her brain into a frenzy and she nearly chokes on her incoming breath. You notice that her eyes are wide open now, yet she deliberately avoids looking up.

"No-" she stammers, chuckling nervously. "I mean, it's complicated. But I-"

Desperate for these two to finally stop revolving around one another for the rest of eternity, you are resolved to offer your wife the necessary push in the proper direction. Because you are well aware that if you are to disregard such commitment, none of them ever would take the plunge. 

"Yes," you reply, smirking at Meryl who you notice promptly swivels around to meet your gaze the second you open your mouth. "She very much does." 

"BABE!" you watch her vehemently retort, face shifting to an even darker crimson shade; which you didn’t actually think was possible.

There's visible embarrassment in her eyes, but you figure you're not quite done toying with her yet. "What!" you protest with a smirk. "I've already told him about our idea-"

She's swift to correct you. " Your idea." 

"And he's not opposed to it!"

Meryl's body and face immediately freeze, as if suddenly her mind is either void of any existent thought or overflowing with them. Nevertheless, it's not long before she shoots up from her seated position, now facing the mattress.

And yet it seems that the motion is too quick; she promptly stumbles over her own feet, tumbling forward and catching herself before plummeting right into Vash’s lap, her hands gripping his thighs.

Surprisingly, Meryl is not the only one whose face is flickering between hues of red now. 

“Ah, uhh…” the words visibly struggle at comprehensively travelling from her brain to her mouth. “Are you really…” she’s unable to finish her sentence.

“I mean, I’m down.” Vash is better at concealing it, but he’s also a flustered mess, keeping himself focused on Meryl’s face hovering in front of him; thus avoiding impeding thoughts such as the grip of her fingers against his thighs or the warmth of her body so close to his. “If you’re also…”

Meryl does not bother hesitating anymore. “Yes.”

“...Mh.”

The exchange dwindles to a halt, room now brimming with discomfort. No one is moving; it’s to wonder if any of you are even breathing through the awkwardness permeating around them. You contemplate a scene in which Meryl is fully blushing, unable to move from her position above Vash’s lap; meanwhile, the dark-haired man is not faring any better, gawking at the woman as if it is the first time he’s ever seen one.

You sigh, burying your hand in the palm of your head. For how long would these two have kept fueling such tension if you had not intervened? Endlessly is probably the answer. 

“Alright,” you exhale through your nose, promptly conjuring both of their attention to you. “So either you guys finally do something, or I’m leaving you to stare at each other for the next three hours.”

“Wait,” Meryl frowns, seizing such inference as an occasion to shift herself away from Vash and properly stand by herself. “Does that mean you want in on it?”

You shrug with a smirk. “Well, yeah? I mean, if you’re okay with it.”

Visibly confused, your wife slightly tilts her head to the side. “Why wouldn’t I be?”

“I mean,” a scoff slips by your lips as the curve of your lips widens. “He’s your undying crush. Not mine.”

As that heated exchange takes place, you notice that Vash’s face is not following the flow of your words; instead, he’s staring at the ground, presumably lost in the void of his thoughts. 

Meryl, however, remains oblivious to such a view. “He’s not-”

“Meryl.”

Vash’s voice has this impressive knack for making the blue-haired woman’s heart ostensibly skip a beat every time he addresses her. This time is no exception. “Yes?” she stammers.

“Look, I’m sorry for everything.” his face is overflowing with guilt; you’re unsure if that’s the alcohol still at play or if the severity of the impending events has caught up to him, but it seems that he thought wise to empty his heart of all things still unsaid. “I’m sorry for making you put up with me, I should have been honest from the beginning. It was selfish, but I didn’t want to break your heart.” there’s a pause in his speech, gaze rushing away from the emptiness to stare directly into Meryl’s eyes. “What I mean to say is that I love you ba-”

There’s a groan coming from her mouth as he mutters the last few words; and before he’s even done confessing his undying love to her, she snatches his chin between her fingers and nearly smashes her lips into his, much to Vash’s bewilderment, if his dumbfounded expression is anything to go by. And to yours too; you’re left entirely speechless by Meryl’s display of eagerness. 

The dark-haired man remains dazed even as she pulls away; from the other edge of the bed, you peer at the scene attentively, observing as a string of saliva links both their mouth from afar. The whole thing feels much too intimate; even if you’re obviously prying into the profoundness of their bond, you can’t help but feel heat pooling down between your legs.

It seems that Meryl has recovered much of her usual brashness. “I don’t want to hear it.” her voice is low, on the verge of a whisper. It does unimaginable things to your head; you can’t imagine what it does to Vash. “Now’s not the time.”

Vash visibly gulps at the reprimand. “Yes ma’am,” he replies; and even though he’s joking, you can’t recall ever seeing a man so genuinely thrilled about something in your life.

He remains seated on the mattress as Meryl leans forward again, seizing his lips with much more tenderness than before. Soon, they’re moving in tandem, mouths fluttering alongside one another; you’re an attentive spectator to the scene, to a gorgeous display of requited love and to the soft, little gasps of pleasure emanating from them. 

You watch as Vash’s human hand reaches up to Meryl, fingers slowly cupping her cheek; watch as she reclines into his touch and hums blissfully. And as beautiful as their display of love truly is, you cannot bear the role of a distant onlooker anymore.

There does not seem to be any reaction from the happy couple when you push yourself off the mattress. It is only once you fully circled around them, gently pressing your body against the softness of Meryl’s back that you earn a reaction in the form of a gasp.“Shhh,” you whisper, fingers brushing her face from behind, lingering against the skin that remains unclaimed by Vash. “Don’t mind me. Keep going, babe.”

Clearly, she does not need to be urged twice; soon, her lips are on him again, the distraction allowing your right hand to dip under her cheek. Your index brushes against the curves of her chin before slipping downwards, revelling in the shiver it prompts from her. 

Soon, your hand sinks again, the other pulling the strap of her camisole aside; it crawls under the fabric, fingers frigid against the soothing warmth of her skin. Your palm grazes down, thumb lazily painting circles over her breast, and you overhear her sucking in a startled breath when your lips settle against her neck. A whimper eludes her, yet partly muffled by the motion of Vash’s mouth; you’re unable to stop smirking as you press down harder, sucking a bruise under her ear. 

You lift your other hand, fondly tousling her hair as you place another kiss right above the previous one. Then another, and another; it does make you wonder if there even exists a noise more beautiful and enticing than the one you're drawing from her.

As your head is nearly nestled into the crook of Meryl’s neck, you’re halted from marking her skin even more when she swivels around, forcing you to withdraw your arms. Despite the strength in her motion, it appears that her face is left a ruined, panting mess; no doubt proof of Vash’s infatuation.

“Enjoying yourself?” you smile, cradling her cheek into the palm of your hand. 

Your thumb shifts upwards so it can skim over her lower lip without impeding her answer. “Very.” she mirrors your expression, inhaling another deep breath before leaping in. Soon, her mouth finds yours in a familiar yet desirous embrace. 

The kiss is passionate; it’s messy and it’s devoted, but it’s also everything you need. The motion of her lips is indispensable, like the air is to your lungs; and as her tongue dives into your mouth, you disregard the idea of needing anything else ever again. 

It’s not long before you lose track of the motions of your own hands, instead overly aware of hers wandering over the curves of your form. Her fingers prickle softly on your skin, trifling, etching invisible lines over your hips and stomach; it’s practically addicting, the touch igniting your body and melting as it recedes. 

You’re abruptly dismissed from the blaze as Meryl pulls away, leaving a trail of desire behind. But as you are about to protest, you understand what she intends to do as her hands grip the sides of your shirt, knuckles brushing against your skin. Shivering as they slide upwards, eventually divesting you of the garment, you’re left standing nearly naked under Meryl’s watchful eye.

You beam at her, still huffing from the kiss; and suddenly you’re deprived of air again. 

As your lips dance along with each other once more, your eyes flicker over your wife’s head, sharing a gaze with Vash as he remains seated on the mattress; attentively observing the scene happening before him. His face is hued in crimson, yet you can’t tell if it’s from uneasiness, arousal, or if it’s merely whatever’s left of Meryl’s handiwork. 

Still, there seems to be a distinctive gleam in his eyes, followed by a curve at the corner of his lips. Yet he does not allow you the chance to speculate about his intention before he lifts his arms and reaches for Meryl’s body. You can’t witness his hands settling over her waist from where you’re standing, but you can sure hear it as she is suddenly drawn back from your kiss, gasping in surprise. 

Then, the next thing you’re aware of is that she’s pulled away from the embrace and hauled sideways right into Vash's lap, the gesture both firm and tender; although you amusedly watch as she’s startled once more, her face quickly shifting to a maroon shade.  

Her eyebrows draw a frown over her flushed face. “Vash, you better put me down.” she threatens him; yet somehow, she does not sound very convincing.

He scoffs at her. “And what if I don’t want to?” 

"Don't you da-"

Meryl is thwarted from fulfilling her sentence when Vash scoops her up bridal style in one fluid motion, her feet left dangling over his arm. 

She shrieks in response. “Vash, you f-”

Yet again she is interrupted, this time by her body being toppled on the mattress, hair sprawling messily onto the sheets. The crimson flush wrapping her face slides down to her neck and her mouth shoots open to protest, yet it remains agape as she watches Vash crawl over the bed, then over her, too. He shifts one leg over her waist, knees perched on both sides of her thighs, along with a self-satisfied grin that only Vash could truly bear.

Meryl noticeably stares back at him in dismay, though it appears that her bewilderment does not last very long. “Oh no, you don’t.” she asserts, frowning.

Before the question has even materialized at the tip of Vash’s tongue, she has already hooked his leg with one of her own, forcing him to flip over with his back to the bed. Now with the upper hand, she takes the opportunity to seize control of their arrangement, smirking boastfully as she straddles his hips. 

All the while you’re left awestruck by your wife’s display of strength; because that is quite possibly the hottest thing you’ve ever seen. You deduce that Vash entertains a similar train of thought, if the absurdly dazed look in his eyes is anything to go by. 

"Got any more stupid jokes left in ya?" Meryl scoffs, glaring at the man squeezed under her thighs who is undoubtedly not any closer to recovering from the shock just yet. In lack of an answer, she laughs again. “That’s what I thought.”

Seeing as their squabble only occupies the bed’s center for the time being, you seize this opportunity to carve yourself a place next to them. Throwing your pants to the ground before climbing the mattress, you inch your body closer to the pair, legs stretched and eyes thoroughly locked onto the scene. 

You’re gawking even more as Meryl’s hands crawl to her sides, firmly gripping the fabric of her camisole before pulling the garment over her head. The sight of her chest, still draped by her bra, is a grace to behold. It is nothing you have never contemplated before, yet it remains the most alluring image there is, and perhaps that there ever would be. 

Once again, it seems that Vash has a similar introspection; body still pressed under the smaller woman, he slowly hoists his human arm from the mattress, although stalling the motion a few inches away from the skin of her now naked stomach. 

Visibly hesitating, his hand quivers. “Can I?” he asks, his voice weaker than a whisper; the voice of a breathless man kneeling in front of a jewel so dazzling that he’s at a loss for words. 

“Mh?” Meryl replies through a half-lidded gaze; clearly, she was not prepared for such an inquiry.

“Touch you.” he swallows nervously, eyes blinking time and again as if capturing her image in a photograph. “Can I… touch you?”

You surmised that she was once again taken by surprise as her face flushed even darker, all hints of prior confidence promptly vanishing from her features. “Ah…” she appraises his question, seemingly baffled. “Yes, of course.”

Vash nods at her approval, yet doubt persists in his eyes; it prevails even when his hand nestles itself on her side, resting against the jut of her hip bone. He remains immobile for a while; you are almost left to ponder if his brain has not short-circuited before he moves again, sturdy fingers faltering, stretching over soft skin until his palm eventually presses onto her. 

The touch leaves Meryl shivering, apprehensive yet craving for more; and Vash is more than eager to deliver. His hand moves upwards, grazing her waist; the tip of his finger eventually reaches her chest and it draws a moan out of her parted lips. Unsurprisingly, they both freeze at the noise.

Vash’s eyes widen, his mouth agape, yet this does not halt his hand from drifting across her skin; fingers painting invisible patterns on her stomach as if he’s a lost man reminiscing the path that will lead him home. Perhaps that path is Meryl herself; and the sensation of his hands roaming her body was his home all along. 

Your wife moans again, sucking in a breath; but her attention is elsewhere. Her gaze is carried downwards, lingering over the sight of Vash’s prosthetic. “Your other arm…” she whispers, eyes avoiding his as her teeth snag her bottom lip. “I mean, you know… You can use it too.”

Taken aback, Vash eventually chuckles at her request. “I’ve been told it makes the ladies uncomfortable.” he jokingly protests.

“Vash.” she exhales through her nose. “I’m telling you, it’s fine.” 

He does not refute her this time, doubtlessly as desperate to touch her as she is to be touched; along with an acquiescing gesture of the head, he finally uplifts the weight of his metallic limb, reaching for her like he’s dying and she embodies salvation. 

She draws a sharp breath in surprise, her frame visibly shuddering at the feel. Yet Vash seems far from saved, because his prosthetic hand keeps on moving, following the curves of her body until his fingertips edge onto the side of her hips. There’s a deep breath drawn through his nose, inciting you to stare curiously as he attempts to prop himself upwards by leaning against the elbow of his right arm. As metallic fingers begin snaking up Meryl’s frame, curving to her back, you promptly understand what he’s going for. 

And you figure he’s had enough; now’s your time to shine. 

You promptly lunge for his hand, your own fingers curling around his wrists; and although you should have expected it, you’re startled at the coldness of the plates, nearly compelling you to recoil in surprise. Still, you sustain Vash’s confused gaze as he peers up at you. “Sorry man,” you shrug; yet there’s not a single hint of remorse in your voice. “That part’s mine.”

Vash knows better than to agree with the spouse of the married woman he’s longing to worship; and so he smirks at you, exhaling sharply in defeat. Thus, it’s with a triumphant grin that you reposition yourself onto the mattress, circling around Meryl who’s peering back at you with a lifted brow. 

Soon, you’re kneeling behind her, fingers deftly reaching for the clasp of her bra before shifting the garment away, flinging it to some unknown corner of the room. You’re much informed that Meryl disapproves of the act, judging by the number of times she admonished you over adrift pieces of clothes lost through the room amidst surges of passion; yet you do not allow her the chance to object. 

Pressing your chest against the bare skin of her back, you lift your arms to embrace her from behind, hands slowly arching as to cup her breasts into your palms. Your fingers rub lazy circles over the skin, fondling, teasing; your pace might be sluggish, yet it’s everything but careless. You know the motion is effective by the whimpers you’re practically rousing from her; soon, your left thumb brushes over her nipple, nudging the bud, and her whines get even louder.

As your movements pick up in intensity, fueled by the obscene melody of noises sung through parted lips and the arousal steadily building up in your core, you feel her body shifting against yours, reclining into the methodical touch. Through your own heavy breathing, you notice that she’s swaying away from Vash’s hips, steadily headed toward the top of his thighs.

Curious as to how he’s faring through all this, your gaze shifts away from Meryl’s quivering form and instead lands on the dark-haired man, whose body is still sprawled onto the mattress. He’s propped upwards onto both elbows as he huffs, his chest rising rapidly. And yet his gaze remains still, unshakable; thoroughly focused on the motions of Meryl’s chest. You smirk as soon as you catch him peering, purposefully brushing over your wife’s nipple once more; you’re satisfied when the hoarse moan it elicits from her makes Vash shift uncomfortably. 

This time, you can’t help but snicker. Your head sinks next to Meryl’s ear, lips nearly brushing against the skin of her earlobe. “Hey, babe,” you whisper, eyes still riveted on Vash from over her shoulder. “I think someone’s enjoying the show.”

“Then let him.” she croons, yet again leaning into your back for support; as if you’re the foundation of her world, keeping her steady in the tempest of her own pleasure. 

Your fingers flick over the tip of her breast once more, and the moan that it conjures from Meryl is downright mesmerizing. It’s alluring, like the hymn of a goddess; and it’s also the last drop falling into the dam of Vash’s self-restraint. Soon it breaks; overflowing his mind in reckless abandon.

Meryl is still straddling his thighs, nearly shuddering as she whines and ruffles the fabric on his pants in the process. Still, the precarious position does not seem to daunt him, or at least not anymore; merely through the motion of his legs he’s able to shift Meryl lower on his lap, benefiting from the newfound freedom of his upper body to sit up and propel his head forward, capturing one of Meryl’s unattended nipple between his lips. 

He kisses it, over and over again; his tongue flicks over the nub, and even though you hear noises coming from Meryl that resemble words, it’s as if she cannot string any of them together, speaking in breathless moans and unintelligible sounds instead. 

Vash moves back, withdrawing with a particularly lewd noise. “Who’s speechless now?” he scoffs, breathing heavily over her skin, teasing. 

You are unable to attest from behind, yet you know that she is frowning. “Fuck-” there’s another hiss slipping past her lips when Vash takes her into his mouth again. “You.”

He chuckles. “I just might.”

Meryl is not given ample time to protest when the dark-haired man starts moving up, marring her skin with his lips as he climbs a trail over her chest and leaves a path of bruises in his wake. On top of her breast, underneath her collarbone, at the base of her neck; soon, her skin is a patchwork of tainted hues adorning the canvas of her skin, a tint that undeniably suits her most. 

Meanwhile, your right hand remains busied over her breast. And yet your other arm, divested of a purpose by none other than Vash himself, still manages to make itself useful by slithering around Meryl’s waist, fingers crawling under the waistband of her shorts. They dip down, digging lower, brushing over the fabric of her panties in faint rotations. You reach over her folds, where the cloth is coated in her juices; you know the gesture is arousing her when you graze over her clit and she bucks her hips into your palm in retaliation. 

Two birds with one stone, you grin as Meryl's inadvertent grinding elicits a groan from Vash under her. 

If you’re working your way down her frame with the help of your fingers, Vash moves in antipodes, carrying on his ascension of Meryl’s body by settling his lips over her jawline and continuously drifting upwards toward her mouth. Soon they’re kissing again, heavily, desperately, clinging to each other as if the gesture is as crucial as breathing. Her arms, far too long immobile through the turmoil, finally find their purpose in the form of Vash’s neck; and she circles them around if only to haul him closer. 

All the while you keep toying with her body, revelling in the noises it eludes from her. Soon, your lips settle at the base of her neck, shifting slowly over her shoulder in soft moans; frankly, the dampness swelling between your legs is quickly becoming unbearable. 

You watch as Meryl’s right arm retreats from the embrace and begins snaking downwards, following the curves of Vash’s muscles until it reaches down his chest. She visibly hesitates before wedging her hand between them, a human barrier between their cores; it drives him to gasp through the kiss. But then, she starts moving, knuckle rubbing against the raised fabric of his pants, and suddenly he’s gasping for air, panting, yearning for more; at least if the motion of his lips still brushing over Meryl’s is anything to go by. 

It seems that it’s her turn to scoff now, pulling away from the kiss. “Need some help?”

Vash laughs, yet is left unable to retort by one particular shift of Meryl’s thumb against him. “Yeah.” he eventually huffs again. “Might need more than your help.”

You chuckle in response, mouth in the midst of climbing over to the woman’s shoulder blades. “To think you wanted him to sleep in the street,” you mumble against her skin. “Look at you now.”

“Oh, shut up.” she pivots her head ever so slightly to peer back at you, a smile stretching her lips. “So, you think we should help him out or not?”

Upon her request, your gaze shoots up to Vash who’s still upholding his body onto his hands, fingers fisting the sheets. Cheeks flushed and dark locks tousled over his face, he looks so gracefully angelic; so thoroughly debauched. You’re not the one hopelessly in love with this man and yet somehow, your only wish is to deprave him even more.

“Fuck.” you sneer, eyes glued to his swollen lips. “Tell me less.”

It’s not long before you understand what Meryl is going for, disentangling your arms from her shivering body to allow her to reposition herself. She shoves Vash away, thrusting his body away so his back would bounce over the mattress. The man towers over Meryl in size alone and surely surpasses her in strength, too; meaning that getting thrown around as such is undeniably not the product of a one-sided intention. 

Soon she's sinking; head hovering over Vash's hips as fingers begin to deftly unbutton his pants. He gasps, breath eluding his lungs, yet his daze allows him just enough consciousness to shove the garment down; it’s not long before his waist is left clothed with nothing but his undergarments, upraised and shuddering, concealing a part of him that begs to be touched. Meryl’s head is tilted, she’s curious as her hand reaches down to rub him over the fabric; and he gulps in response. 

You’re in the midst of repositioning yourself next to the pair when you detect crimson, uneven shades marring Vash’s skin. Intrigued, your eyes shift from his clothed sex to his naked stomach, which you soon realize is covered in patchy, irregular scars. They’re all over him too; drawing odd shapes, they travel under his shirt and over the curves of his hips, swerving, exposed. 

It’s almost a reflex when your fingers reach blemished skin, chasing the lines branding his body. As you trail the wounds, eyes unmoving, you’re not sure if you’re curious, remorseful or turned on; probably an intricate mix of all three. 

“Yeah,” you hear Vash’s voice addressing you, shuddering. “Hope you’re not too weirded out by it, ‘cause there’s plenty more under there,” he says, pinching his shirt upwards to emphasize the matter. 

Amused, your finger grips the fabric of his shirt and tugs it upwards, exposing more of the marred skin under your watchful eye. “I don’t see a problem,” you mumble, lowering your head over the side of his stomach; soon, your lips settle over him, encountering a home in the form of his scars. You kiss them slowly, rigorously pursuing the lines like a child learning how to draw; eventually, your face shifts to Meryl with question marks in your eyes. “Meryl?”

She’s visibly as stunned as you are, captivated by the display in front of her; her hands are even stalled in their teasing motion, now left immobile. “I-” 

“Oh sorry, didn’t want to interrupt.” you grin at her. 

She shakes her head, posture ascending slightly so her gaze could swiftly shift between you both. “No, it’s not-” she cuts herself off, turning to Vash. “If you’re self-conscious about it, we can-”

“It’s fine.” he interrupts her, lips curled upward. “Nothing you’ve never seen before, anyway.”

You gasp dramatically. “Babe! You lied to me!” you whine, genuinely more amused than actually offended. “I thought-”

“Hey, I’ve seen him shirtless once !”

Vash chuckles at your side. “And did you like it?” his voice is taunting, so proud of himself; you can almost hear the grin on his lips. 

“Mhhh….” Meryl pauses; and as you’re watching her, you realize she’s mirroring Vash’s smirk. “I don’t know, I’d need another look.”

Vash gulps while you can’t help but smile.

Meryl takes advantage of his stupefaction to lift herself up, fingers tugging the waistband of his undergarment; fortunately, he’s quick on the uptake and pulls back for long enough to shift the fabric over the curve of his ass, kicking everything off to the ground ungracefully. This time, the dark-haired woman is too busy divesting herself of her remaining clothes to remember to scold him about cluttering the room. 

It’s not long before she lets herself fall onto her elbows, head hovering over his now bare cock with eager eyes; and yet still she hesitates. “You want me to…”

“ Yes .” Vash’s voice is desperate, yearning; at least for one word. His eyes are quick to widen, seemingly assessing that might have been a little too forthright of him. “I mean, if you’re comfortable to-”

His words are hindered by the groan that inadvertently escapes his lips when Meryl takes him in her hand, fingers wrapped around his quite impressive length. Following a brief hesitation, she begins to move, up and down; stroking him lightly following a rhythm dictated by the song of his laborious breaths. Her thumb eventually brushes over the head, smearing off some of his precum onto the skin of her fingers. Then, she lowers her head down to his crotch; and merely deducing by how her eyes brimming with unadulterated lust, you figure Vash is about to be the happiest man alive. 

All your suspicions are confirmed when she takes him into his mouth; he gasps in surprise, his breathing only consisting of sharp intakes of air as Meryl moves slowly along his length. Sometimes she teases him, planting languid kisses over the soft, reddened skin; yet her lips periodically surround his shaft, head bobbing in a vertical motion that compels his body to utmost devotion. 

Yet devotion is but a cousin to madness; and you’re unaware of which side of the line he’s standing on. That is if his consciousness can even conjure any kind of rationality at all. 

You’re eventually able to draw your eyes away from the scene to bring your attention back to Vash; or more specifically to his scar-addled upper body. Resuming your objective, your lips carry you upwards, travelling across his chest, his nipples, the base of his neck; tracking the lines all while revelling in the noises Meryl elicits from him which are downright stunning. It feels like one, or perhaps two aching eternities tick by, but you finally reach his jaw, slotting a kiss at the corner of his mouth before pulling back, head angled over his face. 

“Hey.” you smile, only now blushing at the proximity; because after all, you did meet this man for the first time a few hours ago. And yet, it feels like you’ve known him forever if only through the stories Meryl insists on always telling you. 

He chuckles. “You know,” he huffs between panting gasps, “You’re pretty cute too.”

Soon, his human hand is in your hair, absentmindedly toying with the strands. And for the sake of your sanity, you’d much rather focus on that side of him rather than the prosthetic one, which appears dangerously close to your still-clothed sex. 

“Don’t say that out loud.” you laugh instead as a distraction. “You’ll make someone jealous.”

You hear Meryl huff from as far as between Vash’s legs. “Bit late for that, don’t you think?”

Still, your body is overly aware of how uncomfortable your current physical situation is; especially since you’re only left with two possible choices. Either you back away and adjust your position elsewhere (you’d surely be useful while squeezed against Meryl again), or you merely comply with the present predicament, which means pressing yourself closer to Vash’s side; into Vash’s metallic, gleaming and frankly very arousing arm. 

Obviously, you select the second option; which earns you a very bewildered gaze from Vash that is promptly replaced with a suggestive grin. 

“Wanna use words, dear?” he asks through half-lidded eyes; his flirting isn’t too convincing when it’s interspersed by gasps, but it’d be lying to say it does not make your core tighten anyway. 

You sneer at him, resolved to play dumb. “Which ones do you wanna hear?” you reply, fluttering your eyelashes.

“I don’t know, you- ah -” he gulps; Meryl’s handiwork, no doubt. “You tell me.”

You lay another kiss along the line of his jaw. “Alright then. Wanna use your hand?” Your words are emphasized as you sink your body closer to him, legs pressed against his artificial fist. 

You feel him squirm under you, doubtlessly shifting his fingers in a more useful position; yet doubt seems to emerge in his eyes. “This might be uh… cold I guess?”

“Mh-hm.” you hum, feet briefly colliding with the ground to remove the remainder of your garments. Letting everything fall to the ground, you climb back onto the mattress and replace yourself, body aligned with his arm. 

Then, you’re suddenly struck by a wave of bitter frost. 

It’s unusual at first, compelling you to wince when a digit brushes against your folds. The feeling is brisk, raw; it’s maddening because soon his thumb grazes your clit and suddenly you’re shuddering in the middle of a frozen storm. His finger shifts, draws circles around the nub, revels in the soft moans slipping by your lips because he hastens when you’re silent and slows when you’re loud. Soon, even the friction is not enough; your inner thighs are getting wetter and your body is imploring him to fill you up by the way it jerks over him. 

Luckily, he’s quick on the uptake; his middle finger crawls inside of you, nipping like fresh ice, and you’re really, really wondering why Meryl has not introduced you to this man much sooner.

Your first reaction is to shriek, which soon subsides into moans; the sound of your voice is intermingled with Vash’s heavy pants, and the only solution your lust-addled brain comes up with to halt the dissonance of noises is to kiss him. Your lips crash into his, and it’s more violent than a car wreck; yet you’re not scared of getting hurt. 

As your lips dance along with each other, his body quivers under you and so does his hand, giving the motion of his finger inside of you a particularly erratic pace that you feel may drive you mad by the end of it. Suddenly, the stimulation has your mouth shifting away from his, noises only growing louder. 

“Mhhh... Right there.” the words stumble out of your swollen lips. “Oh, you’re such an angel.”

He chuckles, mouth brushing against yours. “Please don’t say that, you’re gonna make me cry.”

“Oh, I’m sure you’d still look pretty with tears in your eyes,” you whisper, and soon you’re kissing again. 

Eventually, you feel movement at your side, prompting you to shift away from Vash’s mouth and turn towards your wife, whose head is now retracted from between the man’s legs. You’re only confused for one second, however, because the next one ticks by and she’s lifting her hips above his cock with half-lidded eyes and a wide smirk on her lips.

“Ready?” she asks. 

Vash beams at her. “Oh God, yes.”

This time, there’s no hesitation when her hand grips him, angling his length over her entrance before sliding herself down at an agonizing pace. He groans at the feel and she echoes him with a moan of her own before bouncing up and down, the chant of their whines soon tuning along with one another in an endearing melody. It certainly does something to you; it’s unlike anything else you’ve ever heard or felt, but it’s unquestionably mind-blowing. 

Vash eventually overcomes his shock and starts thrusting his fingers into you again, picking up the pace as what you guessed was an apology for the interruption. The feel is so glorious, so rewarding; you start bucking your hips into his hand in retaliation, a sensation which is soon improved by his body rhythmically swaying under Meryl’s motions. You feel yourself clenching around him, which only induces vivid reminiscences of the hardness dredging into you at a quickened speed, striking spots you didn’t even know could feel this good. 

The foreign coldness mingles with the unbearable heat of your body, and soon you come apart at the seams, deep moan eluding your lips.

Seconds tick by while you ride out your orgasm over the strain of Vash’s finger, heaving loudly even as you allow yourself to collapse over him from exhaustion. Then, a wave of affection unexpectedly washes over you and urges you to slot your mouth over Vash’s again in an impulsive desire for intimacy. 

You’re soon tugged away from your coital daze by the sounds of Meryl’s rhythmic gasps and your head soon pivots toward her, observing the scene with fascinated eyes. Even if she’s far away from you, in the midst of being pleasured by someone else, you can’t help but think that she looks thoroughly sublime. Her bare body glistens under the muted glow of the bedroom, dark curls bouncing haphazardly over her shoulders as she jerks up and down Vash’s hips. Frankly, you’ve never given much thought to religion before, and yet she looks so godly, so profoundly divine; your first intuition urges you to worship the ground she walks on. 

Vash must have noticed you glaring at your wife like she’s the most beautiful thing in the world, no doubt because he’d been doing the same; you feel his lips grazing your cheek, curved in a smirk. “Want a turn?” he whispers, his voice raspy. 

You turn at him with a brow raised, confused. Not because you’re opposed to the mere idea; quite the contrary, in fact, you’re pretty sure your body would be yearning for it. Rather, you’re worried that he’d be doing it out of obligation rather than genuine desire; because this man is way too considerate for his own good, and such unbridled selflessness feels like something he would do. 

 “Are you sure?” you ask him. “I mean, it’s Meryl you love, not m-”

“And you brought us together, haven’t you?” he interrupts you with a smirk. “Come on, you deserve a reward too.” 

Well, you won’t object to that; it had been quite the challenge. “Alright.”

You press one last kiss to his mouth before shifting yourself onto your knees and pulling away. When you turn to Meryl with a smile, you notice that her pace has slowed considerably, which does give you the perfect leverage when you decide to press your body into her side, arm snaking along her stomach as you reach for her core. Your fingers begin drawing circles around her clit, which elicits a sharp gasp out of her that halts her movement along Vash's cock. 

"Hey babe, wanna switch?" you whisper into her ear with a smirk.

"Yeah sure, my-" she hisses when your thumb sweeps over her nub in a particularly dainty way. "My legs were getting numb anyway." 

She waits until you're detached from her before pulling away from Vash, sharing with him a gaze that certainly means nothing yet everything all at once. Soon enough, she's leaning back, sitting sideways, and you notice that he's shifting as well, presumably repositioning himself in anticipation. You obviously waste no time in taking advantage of such a respite to slip yourself in between them, slithering your hand over Meryl’s cheek as you gaze peers into hers fondly. Flush cheeks, misty eyes and heavy breath, she looks every part like the goddess you believe her to be. 

You’re overwhelmed by the idea of kissing her again; of breathing her in like a sandstorm swathing the desert on the warmest of days. Yet you’re forgetting something very crucial; perhaps because you don’t know him as much as Meryl does, but you’re unaware of how cunning Vash can be. And now, you’ve turned your back on him, gaze fully focused someplace else.

Grave mistake. 

Before you can even discern such oversight, you feel a palm settling over your hips, cold fingers gripping the skin; then you’re given no time to process anything that another hand settles onto your lower back and pushes upwards, propelling your body forward. Startled by the unexpected motion, you manage to recover your balance by catching yourself onto your hands, palms firmly landing upon the mattress with a startled gasp. 

No question dares to materialize upon your lips; not only because you know in your gut what’s happening, core constricting at the thought, but you can also fill the tip of Vash’s cock pressed up against your folds, brushing lazily over sensitive skin. Inhaling a sharp breath, you can’t help but smirk in amusement.

“Someone’s eager.” you tease him, earning a chuckle in response.

“Oh, most definitely.” you’re left unable to hear that last part as he pushes himself into you; it’s slow, painfully slow, and you have no choice but to nudge your hips backwards in hopes that more of his length would sink inside. 

His hoarse groan is the only sign of shock he displays before welcoming your impetuosity with open arms. He fully slips into you in one, deliberate thrust, driving your ass against the skin of his thighs. There’s an initial wave of overwhelming pain, and yet it soon subsides into pleasure; magnificent agony splitting you open and melting your insides.

Soon, your mind goes blank, only inked by the enthralling grunts he makes that mingle with your own, beautiful music to your ears as your fingers sink into the mattress. Hips rocking back and forth, he pounds into you; and although you want to say it’s merciless, you know very well it's not. Vash is mindful, he’s deliberate in his thrusts; he’s assertive but also careful not to hurt you. 

You’re only able to regain consciousness when you notice Meryl’s nudging closer, hand gradually crawling to her crotch. In spite of the very low amount of brain power you are able to exert right now, you’re still prompted to smile at her, shifting your gaze upwards. 

“Come here,” you whine between moans. “Wanna - ah - taste you.”

She dutifully obliges with a giggle that you’re unable to hear under the cacophony of your own mouth; shifting herself closer, she nudges her hips forward until your nose is nearly brushing over her folds, a valuable opportunity in front of which you waste no time before lapping at her clit with your tongue, basking in the whimper it draws out of her. 

The scene is so obscene that it’s nearly comical and yet, you cannot recall ever experiencing such a breathtaking ordeal before. Your body is brimming with electrifying ecstasy, all your senses utilized as you work wonders between Meryl’s legs; savouring every second of it, of her heavy moans and of her taste, too. You can’t tell what comes from her and what’s from Vash; and honestly, you don’t care a single bit. 

Meanwhile, he keeps on pouncing into you, his breathing raspy; his once almost methodical thrusts shift to erratic ones and suddenly, you know he’s close. And yet, Meryl is the one who reaches her orgasm first as your tongue sweeps over her clit firmly. Her cries of euphoria echo over your head, flutter into your ears, and it’s perhaps the most wonderful hymn in the world. You feel your core tightening in response to the arousal, clenching around the bulk of Vash’s length and it’s not long before he audibly reacts with a hoarse groan.

His quivering pace accelerates yet again, speedy and brash; it briefly makes you wonder if there’s any coherence to his motions before he hastens again and you’re left dumbfounded, unable to think. Your hips shift in tandem, nearly melting onto one another; and then, finally, he reaches a climax of his own. 

A few seconds beat by before you all collapse over each other in utter exhaustion. Sensual moans and groans of pleasure are soon replaced by hasty breaths, and you’re suddenly panting like there’s not enough air in this room for the three of you. Vash eventually manages to pull out of you, crumbling over the pillows as if he’s a sheet of paper while you roll over onto your back, cheek pressed onto the side of Meryl’s legs. 

If your instinctive functions are quick to pick up the pace again, your thoughts remain impeded miles behind. Because, honestly? You can’t even believe that all of this was real. Sure, you were aware that proposing a threesome would bring an array of unfamiliar experiences for which you were not prepared, but you never expected… this. 

And there’s nothing even remotely negative about the statement; you’re truly overwhelmed by how incredible it felt. 

“Wow.” Vash’s words are concise; you presume his thoughts are as hazy as yours, perhaps even more.

“Indeed,” you smirk, lifting your head to get a good glimpse of his breathless face; it’s even more alluring than what your mind could’ve ever conjured.  

…wait, were you beginning to fall for Vash too? 

Well, if the past hour’s interaction was anything to go by, you assume that this shouldn’t pose too much of a problem. Unless he and Meryl were willing to lunge at each other’s throat agai-

“So, do you feel bad for throwing me off a roof now?” Vash’s voice shatters your hopeful optimism in record time, urging you to shield your face between your hands in dismay. 

Unsurprisingly, Meryl is swift to retort. “Are you kidding me?” she groans at him. “An hour of mind-blowing sex and this is the best you can come up with?”

Vash merely shrugs in response. “I mean, I can give you another hour if you wa-”

He halts himself in his tracks when he notices Meryl shifting herself closer, lips pressed in a thin line as she frowns. You observe how carefully his eyes follow her, and suddenly he’s hauled into a bruising kiss of impressive strength considering how drained your body feels in comparison. 

Meryl pulls away not too long after, leaving behind a completely flabbergasted Vash. “Idiot,” she grumbles, hand lingering over his cheek. “I love you, but by God are you stupid.” 

“But you do think I’m mind-blowing.” he wiggles his eyebrows at her, and for one second you’re unsure if she’s about to kiss him again or punch him. 

“Absolutely not.”

Their bickering has you groaning in frustration; frankly, you’d much rather they keep on making out if that meant they wouldn’t be fighting like children on a playground. 

“Oh, come on you two,” you whine, reclining into the mattress with your eyes closed. “Stop fighting.”

You overhear Vash’s unimpeded laughter. “Yes, mom.” he snorts and it has you sighing even louder. 

If sometimes you could easily fathom Meryl’s boundless infatuation with the man, you also understood why her eyes were nearly always rolled back every time he opened his mouth. 

“While you’re at it,” you grin, obviously addressing Vash considering all the snark in your tone. “Mind giving me back my wife for a minute? I know sharing is caring and whatnot but I want a kiss too.”

Meryl’s exasperated groan soon reaches your ears and has you smirking even wider. “You can ask said wife, you know.”

“Mh-hm.” you hum playfully. “Come, now.”

You’re not expecting much from her; after all, you’re all still breathless and sweating, warm skin sticking to each other as if you’ve just spent a week in the sweltering desert. Which is why you’re startled by the feeling of thighs straddling your hips, eyes swiftly shooting open to revel in the sight of Meryl’s gorgeous face over yours, smiling like it’s the most natural thing in the world.

Holy shit, do you love your wife. 

Soon you’re kissing again and worlds are still imploding, solid proof that you could spend your entire life hanging off of her lips and it wouldn’t change a single thing. 

And yet that’s not what the world has in plan for you right now, because you feel something sinking into the mattress at your side and you are very much aware that it’s Vash. “Wow.” he huffs, a bit too close to your ear for someone who is presumably recovering from the orgasm of a lifetime. “You know that’s hot, right?”

Meryl shifts her attention away from you to pivot his way, probably deducing the same thing as you were. “Don’t tell me you’re ready to go again?”

“I mean,” he scoffs. “I wasn’t kidding when I offered you another hour.”

You’re unable to stop the sigh that slides past your parted lips. “Men.” 

And yet, your exasperation is of little to no avail, because you soon find yourself engulfed in a second round that has your bodies even more tangled than the last. You end up positioned in ways that you did not even picture in your wildest dream, yet you’re enthralled by every second of it, almost wishing for the night to carry on forever. 

When you all collapse from utter exhaustion after an even wilder third round, you are very aware that you cannot ask anything more of your drained body. It’s not long before the three of you end up curled up under the sheets, arms and legs mingled in a disjointed mess, breathing in unison. 

When your eyes eventually flutter shut, it’s with a smile on your lips; because it’s truly a good thing that you’re both a master of gossip and brilliant ideas, too.