Chapter Text
Meryl thought she was going slightly insane.
Since the night she and Vash had shared a bed, he’d been more open with his affections- a ruffle of her hair, a squeeze to her shoulder, a hand on her lower back to steady her or to guide her when needed. She allowed them, of course she did. It was nice to be close to someone again, to have a friend in all the chaos.
She touched Vash too- a playful punch to the shoulder that he’d dramatically pretend was a mortal blow, brushing his hair back from his eyes when he was cleaning his gun, letting him rest his head in her lap when they’d stop for the night, a hand lingering in his hair as she told him about the constellations and how they were named. They were all things she was used to, the casual intimacy between friends, the kind that came from tight, shared spaces and the stress-tested bonds of life.
The touches were casual, nothing lingering or suspect, and after a few days Meryl forgot about them completely, integrated as they were in her day-to-day. They became part of life.
Roberto had noticed, eyes flicking between Meryl and Vash when the man hauled her in for a hug that swept her off the ground as he spun her in a sweeping arc. When she was released, breathless from laughing, Meryl caught his eye and shrugged; he rolled his eyes before lighting up a cigarette. As long as she was fine with it, comfortable and safe, it seemed he was fine with it as well and had no intention of calling it out. Thank god for that, because Meryl thought she’d die of embarrassment if he said anything.
Wolfwood had also noticed, but he was far less blasé about it.
She wasn’t sure what, if anything, Vash had said to the man after the near-fist fight at breakfast (they’d never gotten an answer out of him, only the usual violence as they were kicked out of the motel by the disgruntled owner, Meryl downing her drink and Roberto hastily stuffing the rest of his food into his mouth and nearly choking on his coffee as they followed out an apologetic Vash and Wolfwood spitting like an angry cat), but the car ride was blessedly silent and Roberto even let her drive again…probably to keep her from saying something that would start a row between the three of them, but Meryl didn’t mind. She liked driving, but the tense silence between the Vash and Wolfwood could be felt from the front seat.
They didn’t seem any more hostile, but the usual banter wasn’t there, and something had soured the air between them. She had no idea what.
It had been a week of drifting between towns, driving from one to the next to chase whatever they were chasing, whatever Vash was chasing. Or running from. There were days when she wasn’t at all sure anymore, but they followed all the same. A week of hands on her shoulders, of gripping her hips to lift her to the top of the truck, of sitting on Vash’s shoulder to watch a Tomas race. A week of the Undertaker glaring daggers at her and her shrugging them off. She was not going to let his childish attitude touch her.
Currently, she was resting her head on her arms, half buried in her jacket sleeves as she watched Vash and Roberto argue over a map, one gesturing wildly and pointing while the other mostly ignored it and tried to find landmarks in the vast expanse of sand. The heat of the day and the distant, muffled voices were lulling her to sleep, eyes slipping closed for a moment before she jerked awake to someone snapping next to her ear.
“Up and at ‘em, shortie.” Wolfwood was leaning on the chassis, his usual cigarette between his teeth. She scrunched her nose and quickly ran a sleeve over her face to wipe away any sleepiness.
“What’s going on? Did they pick a direction yet?” She fumbled for the keys she’d tossed on the dash, flinching back when they burned her palm.
The man took a long drag off his cigarette. “No. I had some questions for you.”
Her eyes narrowed, instantly suspicious. He had been curt with her since the motel, more so than usual, and any lingering friendliness from those first days was long gone, but Meryl still figured it had more to do with being hauled to bed and manhandled than anything else. Or maybe Vash’s sudden line of questioning had him ruffled and on edge and this was the first opportunity he’d had to talk to her alone. She sighed, resting her head back on her arms and watched Roberto turn the map upside-down in Vash’s hands, pointing emphatically.
“Okay, let’s hear them.”
“What’s going on between you and blondie?”
That got her attention; Meryl dragged her eyes away from the distant pantomime. “Excuse me?”
“You heard me, what’s the deal? You spend one night together and now you’re all touchy-feely?”
Meryl snorted out a laugh, rolling her eyes until she realized he was being serious.
“Nothing, obviously.” Wolfwood didn’t budge, dark eyes still focused on her with an intensity and barely-concealed violence she was getting used to. “What, did he say something to you?”
“He touches you. You touch him.” He said it like it made all the sense in the world, like Meryl should know what he was talking about.
“He touches- are you jealous? I bet if you asked nicely, maybe said ‘please’, he would give you a ‘good job’ head pat too.” She shot back, crossing her arms.
“He’s not the problem.”
“We aren’t five, if you have an issue with him touching me, then talk to him, not me.”
His eyes held a storm, but Meryl wasn’t backing down. Roberto constantly told her to be careful of the man when they were in private, but much like Vash she saw nothing to be careful of. Wolfwood may carry a gigantic gun and have violence like a lingering darkness just beneath his skin, but he’d never hurt her. Not on purpose, no matter how mad he may be at her. It was a line he simply wouldn’t cross.
There were few things Meryl knew for sure, and that happened to be one of them.
When it was clear she wasn’t offering him anything more, Wolfwood huffed angrily.
“You look like you’re fuckin’ five,” he grumbled, pushing off the car and walking away, hands deep in his pockets. It was a low blow and they both knew it.
“Yeah well, uh,” she knew she’d lost this round, too slow to fire off a comeback as he stalked over to Vash and Roberto, shoulders hunched and stiff. “At least I don’t act like it.” It was muttered to herself, barely under her breath, but she felt a little better about it as she closed her eyes.
What a weird thing to ask, she thought, her mind as hazy as the desert.
If he was jealous, it was strange to take it up with her. She wasn’t stupid, she’d seen the glances he’d give whenever Vash broke out one of his dazzling smiles that rivaled the two suns. The man outshone everyone, it was hard not to fall a little bit in love with those smiles.
She knew Vash liked him, knew she liked Vash, and knew that Wolfwood wasn’t bad to look at. Unfortunately, he was also an asshole, and she wasn’t overly fond of the type. College had taught her many lessons, personal lessons, outside the scope of her ‘fancy’ degree.
One: liquor before beer, no exceptions.
Two: make friends with your roommates.
Three: no more assholes.
She and Molly had learned the hard way, Meryl after two men and Molly after…five? She couldn’t remember how many broken hearts she had helped nurse, but the fact that she herself had more than one was a point of personal embarrassment.
A deep sigh escaped her, and she nuzzled into her sleeves with a yawn.
The muffled argument and heat of the day lulled her into a blissfully unaware sleep where she dreamed of nothing at all.