Collective drabble post, YAY!
All right, since I've gone and written more drabbles and things, I'm going to stick them all here, including the ones that I've written and posted before. It just seems easier that way so no one has to look for the previous and horrendously crappy ones. Slight KnivesxMilly in "Chaff" and in "Tradition," just to warn.
Let's get started, shall we?
--
#2. Get Out Alive
“No time for goodbye.”
That was what he would typically say.
Well, not exactly ‘say.’ Not with his voice. But his eyes would whisper it… They always mutely told that silent admonition with their captivating gaze. And she knew it, too, every time that she looked his way. His eyes would remind her, almost painfully, and she would find herself longing for the day that she would be able to watch him without fearing his tendency to fade.
“Hold on for your life, Vash… Get out alive.”
That was what she would say in return…
But never with her voice.
--
--
#3. Over & Over
Subtly, placid and serene in countenance, Meryl smiled. It was a knowing smile, but a smile that held too many emotions. Over and over. Over and over, she’d smile. She’d smile for him.
Furtively, nervous and worried by nature, she looked. Her gaze probed through dense crowds, but never finding what she was searching for. Over and over. Over and over, she’d look. She’d look for him.
Slowly, helpless yet willing, she fell. She’d slip into fantasies, but when her eyes opened or her lips curved, they’d vanish. Over and over. Over and over, she’d fall. She’d fall for him.
--
--
#6. Dream
I’m dreaming again, aren’t I, Rem…?
I’m sorry. I can’t help but dream lately. It’s like I’m caught in a nightmare when I’m awake. A horrible nightmare where everyone’s hearts have grown dry and harsh, just like the planet that they live on. It’s so sad. They’re all dry, but they can still shed tears. So many tears, Rem… So many grains of sand.
I’m alone there, Rem. It kind of hurts.
But then I’m not alone when I see her. And I smile. She looks like you a little. Just a little.
I think I might have dreamed her.
--
--
#7. Flaw
“They’re mistakes, Meryl… All of them.” Diffidently, he draped an unbuttoned shirt around his shoulders, allowing the cloth to cover his chest.
She touched his face with her hand, cupping his cheek. “But you learn from your mistakes, Vash. Why hide them?”
His brows furrowed and he bowed his head. Shaggy blond bangs concealed his spellbinding eyes. “I don’t like others seeing them. Scars aren’t the prettiest to look at.”
Meryl leaned upward and gently kissed him, soft and tender. “A scar is an imperfection; a flaw. Imperfections make people unique. They give them character. Mistakes are merely flaws, too.”
--
--
#10. I Dare You - Part I
“No, you couldn’t.”
“Yes, I could!”
The dark-haired priest snorted, amused. “You couldn’t do it even if your life depended on it.”
“Hey, that isn’t nice,” the spiky blond whined.
“See? You can’t do it, Spikey!”
“Yes, I can!”
“All righty, then. I dare you.”
Vash’s face contorted in confusion. “Eh?”
“I dare you to do it for a box of doughnuts. If you can’t do it, then I get to eat ‘em in front of you. No complaints.”
Vash glanced over toward the shorter insurance girl. And then to Wolfwood. “You’re cruel.”
The priest smirked. “You got no idea.”
--
--
#11. I Dare You - Part II
Vash gulped. He hoped that Meryl wouldn’t murder, mutilate, maul, or completely dismember him for this. It’s for the doughnuts, he reminded himself. He somewhat liked the concept of what he had to do for them, though. “Meryl?”
She paused her conversation with Milly to quirk a brow at him. It was at that moment that he swooped down and pilfered a kiss from her lips.
After it was through, he turned to Wolfwood, grinning. “Told you so. Pay up!”
“Half.”
“Say what?”
Wolfwood winked. “We agreed on tongue, Spikey. Half the box for half a kiss.”
“You could tell?!”
--
--
#12. Coy
Her heart felt as if it was being squeezed.
Balking, she took a step backward. She just couldn’t muster the strength to approach. Why was that so hard? She liked being by his side. Why was it so difficult to take her place there?
“The sky is beautiful tonight, isn’t it?” He must have noticed her presence. God, he was good at that.
“It is,” Meryl concurred quietly.
Vash looked over his shoulder. His eyes shimmered, expectant. “Aren’t you going to come and sit down?”
She smiled. “Of course.”
At least he wasn’t as coy as she was. Thank goodness.
--
--
#13. Mutter
As she passed by his room, she heard his voice rasp. It was soft and muffled, but he was still speaking.
Attention captured, Meryl walked to his bedside. She saw him toss and turn in vain; sweat coated his forehead and whispers escaped his lips. He was talking in his sleep. However, all of what he said was incoherent and unintelligible. She couldn’t understand.
Is this the only time you can speak without anyone judging you?
He let out a weak murmur of pain.
If you don’t want anyone to hear you, that’s fine, Vash… Mutter to your heart’s content.
--
#16. Duality
I know, I know. I think of him too much, don’t I? I’m pathetic. But really, what else can I do? Work isn’t enough to keep me busy, anymore. I’m juggling two jobs, waiting tables and sending in reports for Bernardelli, but… they’re just not enough.
I can’t help but think of him. I can’t help but wonder if he saved his brother.
His brother. God, that man scares me.
Vash and Knives…
It’s strange. They accurately represent the opposing sides of a human’s psyche. Love versus hatred, peace versus war, compassion versus apathy, good versus evil…
A twisted duality.
--
--
#17. Time
“Meryl… Please, I don’t think I can. It’s my fault. All of it is my fault.”
He felt her gently pull him into an embrace, slow and comforting. She was so small against him, yet so warm, strong, and he envied her for it. “Don’t say that,” she admonished. “I don’t want to hear it.”
Vash did nothing to stop her, but he persisted, fighting tears. “It was my fault…”
“Hush… It’s over. I promise.”
He rested his chin upon her head, defeated, and inhaling deeply. “But-”
“There is a time for everything, Vash. Right now, it’s time to heal.”
--
--
#18. Genes
Absentmindedly, Milly watched a tall blond man being tackled to the dusty ground by various children as she waited for Meryl. All of them had blithe, comical grins plastered onto their faces as well as smudges of dirt. It made them look cheerful.
Then, she felt something tug at her skirt. “Miss Milly?”
“Hm?”
The child pointed at the struggling blond, trying not to laugh. “He’s crazy, isn’t he? That’s what mom said!”
Smiling for Meryl, Milly gave the small girl a fond ruffle of her hair. “Well, just think of it this way-you’ve got half his genes, dear.”
--
--
#19. Priorities
“C’mon, now. What’s on your mind, Spikey? Spill it.”
The spiky blond glanced over toward him, a faint hint of forlornness dwelling within his eyes. “Just thinking.”
Wolfwood arched a brow in curiosity, his fingers toying with the lit cigarette that rested between his lips. “‘Bout what? Knowin’ you, it can’t be too good.”
“About when everything’s over, I guess,” he replied.
“Rough translation of ‘The Dialect of Vash’ into proper English: you’re wonderin’ if she’ll deem you worthy enough to even consider.”
Vash’s mouth showed the rarest trace of a smile. “You know me too well, Preacher-man.”
“Eh, don’t worry so much, Spikey.” He clapped his friend roughly on the back in reassurance. “It’s easy to tell that she likes you. Hell, she hits on you day in an’ day out-quite literally I might add-and you should see her face turn red each time you catch her lookin’ at you. There’s no stronger sense of love!”
“Tough love, maybe.”
Wolfwood grinned heartily. “Tough love, indeed, blockhead. You can’t be that scared of her, can ya?”
The blond shrugged. “Nah… Not really. I don’t mind her getting angry at me. Most of the time she has the right to be. I’m no saint.”
“Well, neither am I, but you don’t see me gettin’ my ass beat,” Wolfwood said, indolently tossing his diminishing cigarette to the sandy ground below. “But, then again, I’m not the one who goes after other gals when the object of my affections happens to be watchin’ me.”
“You’d do it when she wasn’t watching, then?” Vash questioned.
“Not if I was loyal, I wouldn’t,” he promptly retorted. “‘Sides, I’m a man of priorities. If I’ve got myself a girl, I’m not gonna ruin it by takin’ any chances that more than likely won’t work out.” He then gave Vash an inquiring look. “So, what about you, Mister Stampede? Or are the rumors of you bein’ a womanizer all a hoax?”
The aqua-green-eyed blond ran an idle hand through his hair. “Well, I have my priorities, too,” he said. “They’re just… not as clear as some others’.”
Wolfwood’s brows furrowed in perplexity. “Meanin’…?”
Vash sighed heavily, glancing up toward the skies, as if uncertain. “Meaning I can’t really decide what comes first… If I do anything right now, it might be a bit early, you know? Sometimes I think it’s best just to leave things the way they are, and other times I just want to pin her against a wall and tell her everything.”
“And then have the most extraordinary sex you’ve ever had, right?” the priest supplied in jest.
His friend chuckled. “Well, like I said, Wolfwood, I have my priorities, too. I just think that one might be a bit lower on the list.”
--
--
#20. Waking Up Beside You
Slowly, he allowed a smile to come to his face. It wasn’t a false smile, not a fake veneer like it always had been before, but it was true one, with actual happiness visible in its curve. He felt warmth stir nearby him; she moaned tiredly in her slumber. Small arms curled around his middle, and a body pulled itself to him-her body. Vash opened his eyes to gaze fondly at her, moving his hand to stroke her soft, dark hair. Meryl smiled, still sleeping.
Women truly were marvels… What a wonder it was to wake up beside one.
--
--
#21. Chance
“What did I do?”
His breathing was too slow. It was too erratic and too shallow, but his chest still rose and fell with every soft breath. She tried to match respires with his, perhaps to feel closer somehow, but she couldn’t keep the pace.
She knew that it would happen some day. It was inevitable; the color of his glossy hair told the tale and left no detail untouched. But why? Why did it have to happen so soon? Why now? Why couldn’t it have been just a few days later? Tomorrow, maybe. Even a few more hours would have been sufficient.
Her fists clenched as Meryl fought back tears. His hair was black. Entirely and completely black. His consciousness was lost in the depths of sleep and he would never wake again. She told herself that when he returned she would tell him everything; Milly had commanded her to. But when he did come back, he wasn’t in the condition that she had expected.
“What did I do to deserve this?”
Every time he inhaled, she would feel relief. That meant that he was still alive. Every time he exhaled, she felt pain constrict tightly around her heart, because every one could be his last. Anxiety lurked between them all and made her feel weak. All she wanted was for him to open his eyes and chuckle at her, claiming that he was only kidding and that he couldn’t believe that she would fall for such a silly joke. God, if only.
No, a few more hours could have never been sufficient enough. She wanted tomorrow; she wanted the rest of her life. Milly had told her not to hold back matters of the heart once… All of the things that she should have done she didn’t do, and never did she imagine that she would regret them like this.
Gradually, his breaths slowed to a shuddering halt.
Tears streaming down her cheeks, she threw herself at him and pressed her ear against his chest. His heartbeat was soft and barely audible, but only just beating.
Thump… thump… thump…
It drew out into a deafening silence.
With choked cries stuck in her throat, she never had the chance to speak.
--
--
#22. Natural
The first time she had seen Vash without any clothes on, she had burst into a fit of uncontrollable giggles. It hadn’t been because of his scars, his slightly red face, or even because of him being plain naked. Sure, the hair on his head was blond, but she had always had her suspicions. With him turning out to be a natural, it just made her laugh until her sides hurt.
That was, until he had pinned her to the mattress with a roguish glint in his eyes. “Blonds always have more fun, Meryl.”
Her agreement couldn’t have been louder.
--
--
#23. Sophisticated
[30_beverages; #16 wine]
Meryl knew quite well that Vash had a taste for alcohol. His favorites ranged from regular beer to various whiskies and even to spirits like gin; he adored all sorts of drinks and he would try anything once.
But… wine?
She laughed quietly to herself over the image of him liking wine. Meryl imagined classier people drinking that sort of thing, not Vash, who certainly wasn’t the sophisticated type. Good wines were expensive, too, so when he brought home a bottle, she had to ask why.
He merely grinned. “Only to see you gawk like that, insurance girl.”
Sophisticated, indeed.
--
--
#24. Chaff
[30_beverages; #7 milkshakes]
This was stupid. Resentfully, Knives watched his brother and his pet share a milkshake. The girl would take a sip, pass it to Vash, and then snatch it back when she wanted another taste. They both laughed and playfully swatted at one another. How utterly ludicrous.
“You look glum, Mister Knives. Try to smile.” The taller, light brown-haired human held out a milkshake of her own to him.
Knives wrinkled his nose out of uncertainty, but he accepted. As he drank, he continued to observe his brother chaff the short one.
What idiots.
But at least the milkshakes were good.
--
--
#27. Drinking
[30_beverages; #8 buttermilk]
Pancakes were always a usual for breakfast. Meryl would do it right from scratch, cracking eggs, tipping in flour and baking powder, and of course, pouring in buttermilk. This time, curiosity nabbed Vash from resting on the couch to watch her work.
Meryl poured out a cup of the soured liquid, leaving it set for a moment while she gathered eggs from the refrigerator. When she heard a displeased yelp come from behind her, she turned around to see Vash sticking his tongue out disapprovingly. “That stuff tastes nasty. Is the milk bad?”
She chuckled. “Buttermilk’s not for drinking, broom-head.”
--
--
#28. Tradition
[30_beverages; #28 champagne]
“Why did you bother buying it, anyway?” Meryl asked, making a disgusted face. “It tastes horrible.”
“Nothing says ‘Happy New Years!’ like cheap champagne,” Vash replied, raising his cup high.
Milly staggered over with Knives unwillingly hooked around her arm. “Ten more seconds! You know what they say when it reaches zero!”
Ten, nine, eight, seven, six…
“Let go of me, girl!” growled Knives. “I don’t like this tradition!”
… five, four, three…
Meryl glanced to Vash. The glass was gone; he was close, smiling.
… two, one.
He tasted like cheap champagne, but she decided that it didn’t matter.
--
More drabbles to come? Who knows. I'm on a roll. EVERYONE LOVES DRABBLES. *showers you all in love* This community is teh awesome. I really love you guys. :D
Let's get started, shall we?
--
#2. Get Out Alive
“No time for goodbye.”
That was what he would typically say.
Well, not exactly ‘say.’ Not with his voice. But his eyes would whisper it… They always mutely told that silent admonition with their captivating gaze. And she knew it, too, every time that she looked his way. His eyes would remind her, almost painfully, and she would find herself longing for the day that she would be able to watch him without fearing his tendency to fade.
“Hold on for your life, Vash… Get out alive.”
That was what she would say in return…
But never with her voice.
--
--
#3. Over & Over
Subtly, placid and serene in countenance, Meryl smiled. It was a knowing smile, but a smile that held too many emotions. Over and over. Over and over, she’d smile. She’d smile for him.
Furtively, nervous and worried by nature, she looked. Her gaze probed through dense crowds, but never finding what she was searching for. Over and over. Over and over, she’d look. She’d look for him.
Slowly, helpless yet willing, she fell. She’d slip into fantasies, but when her eyes opened or her lips curved, they’d vanish. Over and over. Over and over, she’d fall. She’d fall for him.
--
--
#6. Dream
I’m dreaming again, aren’t I, Rem…?
I’m sorry. I can’t help but dream lately. It’s like I’m caught in a nightmare when I’m awake. A horrible nightmare where everyone’s hearts have grown dry and harsh, just like the planet that they live on. It’s so sad. They’re all dry, but they can still shed tears. So many tears, Rem… So many grains of sand.
I’m alone there, Rem. It kind of hurts.
But then I’m not alone when I see her. And I smile. She looks like you a little. Just a little.
I think I might have dreamed her.
--
--
#7. Flaw
“They’re mistakes, Meryl… All of them.” Diffidently, he draped an unbuttoned shirt around his shoulders, allowing the cloth to cover his chest.
She touched his face with her hand, cupping his cheek. “But you learn from your mistakes, Vash. Why hide them?”
His brows furrowed and he bowed his head. Shaggy blond bangs concealed his spellbinding eyes. “I don’t like others seeing them. Scars aren’t the prettiest to look at.”
Meryl leaned upward and gently kissed him, soft and tender. “A scar is an imperfection; a flaw. Imperfections make people unique. They give them character. Mistakes are merely flaws, too.”
--
--
#10. I Dare You - Part I
“No, you couldn’t.”
“Yes, I could!”
The dark-haired priest snorted, amused. “You couldn’t do it even if your life depended on it.”
“Hey, that isn’t nice,” the spiky blond whined.
“See? You can’t do it, Spikey!”
“Yes, I can!”
“All righty, then. I dare you.”
Vash’s face contorted in confusion. “Eh?”
“I dare you to do it for a box of doughnuts. If you can’t do it, then I get to eat ‘em in front of you. No complaints.”
Vash glanced over toward the shorter insurance girl. And then to Wolfwood. “You’re cruel.”
The priest smirked. “You got no idea.”
--
--
#11. I Dare You - Part II
Vash gulped. He hoped that Meryl wouldn’t murder, mutilate, maul, or completely dismember him for this. It’s for the doughnuts, he reminded himself. He somewhat liked the concept of what he had to do for them, though. “Meryl?”
She paused her conversation with Milly to quirk a brow at him. It was at that moment that he swooped down and pilfered a kiss from her lips.
After it was through, he turned to Wolfwood, grinning. “Told you so. Pay up!”
“Half.”
“Say what?”
Wolfwood winked. “We agreed on tongue, Spikey. Half the box for half a kiss.”
“You could tell?!”
--
--
#12. Coy
Her heart felt as if it was being squeezed.
Balking, she took a step backward. She just couldn’t muster the strength to approach. Why was that so hard? She liked being by his side. Why was it so difficult to take her place there?
“The sky is beautiful tonight, isn’t it?” He must have noticed her presence. God, he was good at that.
“It is,” Meryl concurred quietly.
Vash looked over his shoulder. His eyes shimmered, expectant. “Aren’t you going to come and sit down?”
She smiled. “Of course.”
At least he wasn’t as coy as she was. Thank goodness.
--
--
#13. Mutter
As she passed by his room, she heard his voice rasp. It was soft and muffled, but he was still speaking.
Attention captured, Meryl walked to his bedside. She saw him toss and turn in vain; sweat coated his forehead and whispers escaped his lips. He was talking in his sleep. However, all of what he said was incoherent and unintelligible. She couldn’t understand.
Is this the only time you can speak without anyone judging you?
He let out a weak murmur of pain.
If you don’t want anyone to hear you, that’s fine, Vash… Mutter to your heart’s content.
--
#16. Duality
I know, I know. I think of him too much, don’t I? I’m pathetic. But really, what else can I do? Work isn’t enough to keep me busy, anymore. I’m juggling two jobs, waiting tables and sending in reports for Bernardelli, but… they’re just not enough.
I can’t help but think of him. I can’t help but wonder if he saved his brother.
His brother. God, that man scares me.
Vash and Knives…
It’s strange. They accurately represent the opposing sides of a human’s psyche. Love versus hatred, peace versus war, compassion versus apathy, good versus evil…
A twisted duality.
--
--
#17. Time
“Meryl… Please, I don’t think I can. It’s my fault. All of it is my fault.”
He felt her gently pull him into an embrace, slow and comforting. She was so small against him, yet so warm, strong, and he envied her for it. “Don’t say that,” she admonished. “I don’t want to hear it.”
Vash did nothing to stop her, but he persisted, fighting tears. “It was my fault…”
“Hush… It’s over. I promise.”
He rested his chin upon her head, defeated, and inhaling deeply. “But-”
“There is a time for everything, Vash. Right now, it’s time to heal.”
--
--
#18. Genes
Absentmindedly, Milly watched a tall blond man being tackled to the dusty ground by various children as she waited for Meryl. All of them had blithe, comical grins plastered onto their faces as well as smudges of dirt. It made them look cheerful.
Then, she felt something tug at her skirt. “Miss Milly?”
“Hm?”
The child pointed at the struggling blond, trying not to laugh. “He’s crazy, isn’t he? That’s what mom said!”
Smiling for Meryl, Milly gave the small girl a fond ruffle of her hair. “Well, just think of it this way-you’ve got half his genes, dear.”
--
--
#19. Priorities
“C’mon, now. What’s on your mind, Spikey? Spill it.”
The spiky blond glanced over toward him, a faint hint of forlornness dwelling within his eyes. “Just thinking.”
Wolfwood arched a brow in curiosity, his fingers toying with the lit cigarette that rested between his lips. “‘Bout what? Knowin’ you, it can’t be too good.”
“About when everything’s over, I guess,” he replied.
“Rough translation of ‘The Dialect of Vash’ into proper English: you’re wonderin’ if she’ll deem you worthy enough to even consider.”
Vash’s mouth showed the rarest trace of a smile. “You know me too well, Preacher-man.”
“Eh, don’t worry so much, Spikey.” He clapped his friend roughly on the back in reassurance. “It’s easy to tell that she likes you. Hell, she hits on you day in an’ day out-quite literally I might add-and you should see her face turn red each time you catch her lookin’ at you. There’s no stronger sense of love!”
“Tough love, maybe.”
Wolfwood grinned heartily. “Tough love, indeed, blockhead. You can’t be that scared of her, can ya?”
The blond shrugged. “Nah… Not really. I don’t mind her getting angry at me. Most of the time she has the right to be. I’m no saint.”
“Well, neither am I, but you don’t see me gettin’ my ass beat,” Wolfwood said, indolently tossing his diminishing cigarette to the sandy ground below. “But, then again, I’m not the one who goes after other gals when the object of my affections happens to be watchin’ me.”
“You’d do it when she wasn’t watching, then?” Vash questioned.
“Not if I was loyal, I wouldn’t,” he promptly retorted. “‘Sides, I’m a man of priorities. If I’ve got myself a girl, I’m not gonna ruin it by takin’ any chances that more than likely won’t work out.” He then gave Vash an inquiring look. “So, what about you, Mister Stampede? Or are the rumors of you bein’ a womanizer all a hoax?”
The aqua-green-eyed blond ran an idle hand through his hair. “Well, I have my priorities, too,” he said. “They’re just… not as clear as some others’.”
Wolfwood’s brows furrowed in perplexity. “Meanin’…?”
Vash sighed heavily, glancing up toward the skies, as if uncertain. “Meaning I can’t really decide what comes first… If I do anything right now, it might be a bit early, you know? Sometimes I think it’s best just to leave things the way they are, and other times I just want to pin her against a wall and tell her everything.”
“And then have the most extraordinary sex you’ve ever had, right?” the priest supplied in jest.
His friend chuckled. “Well, like I said, Wolfwood, I have my priorities, too. I just think that one might be a bit lower on the list.”
--
--
#20. Waking Up Beside You
Slowly, he allowed a smile to come to his face. It wasn’t a false smile, not a fake veneer like it always had been before, but it was true one, with actual happiness visible in its curve. He felt warmth stir nearby him; she moaned tiredly in her slumber. Small arms curled around his middle, and a body pulled itself to him-her body. Vash opened his eyes to gaze fondly at her, moving his hand to stroke her soft, dark hair. Meryl smiled, still sleeping.
Women truly were marvels… What a wonder it was to wake up beside one.
--
--
#21. Chance
“What did I do?”
His breathing was too slow. It was too erratic and too shallow, but his chest still rose and fell with every soft breath. She tried to match respires with his, perhaps to feel closer somehow, but she couldn’t keep the pace.
She knew that it would happen some day. It was inevitable; the color of his glossy hair told the tale and left no detail untouched. But why? Why did it have to happen so soon? Why now? Why couldn’t it have been just a few days later? Tomorrow, maybe. Even a few more hours would have been sufficient.
Her fists clenched as Meryl fought back tears. His hair was black. Entirely and completely black. His consciousness was lost in the depths of sleep and he would never wake again. She told herself that when he returned she would tell him everything; Milly had commanded her to. But when he did come back, he wasn’t in the condition that she had expected.
“What did I do to deserve this?”
Every time he inhaled, she would feel relief. That meant that he was still alive. Every time he exhaled, she felt pain constrict tightly around her heart, because every one could be his last. Anxiety lurked between them all and made her feel weak. All she wanted was for him to open his eyes and chuckle at her, claiming that he was only kidding and that he couldn’t believe that she would fall for such a silly joke. God, if only.
No, a few more hours could have never been sufficient enough. She wanted tomorrow; she wanted the rest of her life. Milly had told her not to hold back matters of the heart once… All of the things that she should have done she didn’t do, and never did she imagine that she would regret them like this.
Gradually, his breaths slowed to a shuddering halt.
Tears streaming down her cheeks, she threw herself at him and pressed her ear against his chest. His heartbeat was soft and barely audible, but only just beating.
Thump… thump… thump…
It drew out into a deafening silence.
With choked cries stuck in her throat, she never had the chance to speak.
--
--
#22. Natural
The first time she had seen Vash without any clothes on, she had burst into a fit of uncontrollable giggles. It hadn’t been because of his scars, his slightly red face, or even because of him being plain naked. Sure, the hair on his head was blond, but she had always had her suspicions. With him turning out to be a natural, it just made her laugh until her sides hurt.
That was, until he had pinned her to the mattress with a roguish glint in his eyes. “Blonds always have more fun, Meryl.”
Her agreement couldn’t have been louder.
--
--
#23. Sophisticated
[30_beverages; #16 wine]
Meryl knew quite well that Vash had a taste for alcohol. His favorites ranged from regular beer to various whiskies and even to spirits like gin; he adored all sorts of drinks and he would try anything once.
But… wine?
She laughed quietly to herself over the image of him liking wine. Meryl imagined classier people drinking that sort of thing, not Vash, who certainly wasn’t the sophisticated type. Good wines were expensive, too, so when he brought home a bottle, she had to ask why.
He merely grinned. “Only to see you gawk like that, insurance girl.”
Sophisticated, indeed.
--
--
#24. Chaff
[30_beverages; #7 milkshakes]
This was stupid. Resentfully, Knives watched his brother and his pet share a milkshake. The girl would take a sip, pass it to Vash, and then snatch it back when she wanted another taste. They both laughed and playfully swatted at one another. How utterly ludicrous.
“You look glum, Mister Knives. Try to smile.” The taller, light brown-haired human held out a milkshake of her own to him.
Knives wrinkled his nose out of uncertainty, but he accepted. As he drank, he continued to observe his brother chaff the short one.
What idiots.
But at least the milkshakes were good.
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#27. Drinking
[30_beverages; #8 buttermilk]
Pancakes were always a usual for breakfast. Meryl would do it right from scratch, cracking eggs, tipping in flour and baking powder, and of course, pouring in buttermilk. This time, curiosity nabbed Vash from resting on the couch to watch her work.
Meryl poured out a cup of the soured liquid, leaving it set for a moment while she gathered eggs from the refrigerator. When she heard a displeased yelp come from behind her, she turned around to see Vash sticking his tongue out disapprovingly. “That stuff tastes nasty. Is the milk bad?”
She chuckled. “Buttermilk’s not for drinking, broom-head.”
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#28. Tradition
[30_beverages; #28 champagne]
“Why did you bother buying it, anyway?” Meryl asked, making a disgusted face. “It tastes horrible.”
“Nothing says ‘Happy New Years!’ like cheap champagne,” Vash replied, raising his cup high.
Milly staggered over with Knives unwillingly hooked around her arm. “Ten more seconds! You know what they say when it reaches zero!”
Ten, nine, eight, seven, six…
“Let go of me, girl!” growled Knives. “I don’t like this tradition!”
… five, four, three…
Meryl glanced to Vash. The glass was gone; he was close, smiling.
… two, one.
He tasted like cheap champagne, but she decided that it didn’t matter.
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More drabbles to come? Who knows. I'm on a roll. EVERYONE LOVES DRABBLES. *showers you all in love* This community is teh awesome. I really love you guys. :D