Scattering Time

He caught her the next morning a few minutes before he had to leave for work.

She stumbled into the kitchen, wondering why she was so tired, determined to make herself a cup of hot coffee. That dark, steaming liquid would wash the sleep from her eyes just as surely as a hot shower would. Yes. She would get coffee.

He was sitting at the table, a dark flash of red, drinking coffee himself, and snacking on what looked like toast. He smiled as she entered and gestured at a cup beside the stove.

She had to curb her suspicious tendencies immediately. Just because he was being nice didn’t necessarily mean that he wanted something.

The mug felt warm in her hand and she hesitantly took a sip, seating herself gingerly beside him at the table. “Good morning,” she murmured, her voice still thick.

He smiled again, not his bright, blinding smile, but the soft, gentle one he had so infrequently. “Good morning. I never thanked you for the sweater. It’s very warm.”

She smiled sleepily. That felt nice. “I’m glad it fits you.” And it did. She hadn’t realized exactly how slender he was until she had started making his clothes, but she had gotten his measurements correct enough. It looked good.

“And it’s soft too.” His smile turned a little impish as he took a bite of toast.

“Mm,” she replied, reveling in the burning heat of the coffee sliding against her throat. It was such a common flavor, yet strangely exotic at the same time. It held so many memories for her too, like her mother standing at the counter in the morning before classes, prattling about how schoolwork was important and necessary to have any future, and she would just breathe in the delicate aroma deeply, memorizing the room and her father at the table reading the newspaper, and her mother’s voice, demanding but loving. Was it really so long ago?

“I’ve been meaning to ask you something,” he said quietly, interrupting her nostalgia. He wasn’t meeting her eyes and the tone of his voice was dark and serious.

She turned to him, blinking a few times, trying not to yawn. “Yes?”

He was silent a long minute, thinking. “Knives… has he seemed… to be getting any better?”

“You mean in dealing with me?”

Another pause, then a short nod.

“I think so.” She took a sip of the coffee, savoring it. “He was very polite yesterday most of the day.”

Vash gave a soft sigh, then bit his toast, chewing thoughtfully. “What do you think I should do when you leave?”

A blush trembled its way onto her cheeks. “W-what?”

He gave her what looked like it was trying to be a curious glance. If they both knew what she wanted, why did he pretend?

Or was he like her in that the masks gave him a semblance of control?

“When you leave here… what do you think I should do with Knives?” He was serious again, and she was grateful. “I’m not sure if he’s lying to me about anything or not. I know it sounds strange, but I always used to be able to tell when he was up to something. Now… I think he’s walled that off from me.”

More coffee. Heat spiking down her throat. She shivered slightly. “I can’t tell you what to do.”

He made an unenthusiastic noise in response, not seeming to like that answer. Silence deadened the air.

It was slightly uncomfortable, but she was strangely happy. How often did she just get to be alone with him, to sit beside him in companionable silence? Bittersweet.

She turned her eyes to him, feeling after a moment like she needed to say something, to express anything, but her eyes caught sight of a blemish on his sweater.

“You have some lint,” she said, reaching out to his arm to pull it off. She had done far too good a job on this sweater to let him go out with it looking sloppy.

But he intercepted her, taking her hand into his much larger one. The blush surfaced again, tracing her cheekbones. “Vash-san?”

He brought his eyes done to hers, the sea meeting the moon. “I know it must be hard, but please… you’re doing a good job with him.”

He was holding her hand! She was going to die or explode or turn into a pile of goo at his feet or worse. She tried to stammer something out in reply to that, but found herself unable.

“Thank you for all your hard work.” His eyes were so sincere.

A breath, a moment, a day, a year, an eon passed, and she couldn’t tear her eyes from his. His hand was so warm, and there was something reassuring about the scar that crossed the top of it. This man tried his best to make everyone happy, to keep them all safe. This was the man she loved.

Maybe now would be the time to try again.

“Vash-san, I still–” she started nervously, but he cut her off.

“I know,” he murmured, not dropping his eyes. “I’m sorry, but… please. Just give me a little time.”

Exactly what she didn’t have.

She forced a smile and started to move away. But: “You’re still holding my hand, you idiot.”

He grinned sheepishly, and quickly let her go, standing abruptly. “Well. I probably ought to get off to work.” He cleared his dishes and set them on the counter, then started toward the door. “See you later!”

And he was gone.

She sat there a moment, a little forlorn, but glanced up to the door to the hallway when she heard a bit of giggling. “Milly?”

The girl stepped in, in her work clothes and ready to leave. “Sempai, he’s right. I think he just needs time.”

She sighed. This wasn’t what she wanted to hear. And she would have to discuss eavesdropping with the girl at some later date. Not that she herself was guiltless... “There’s not that much of it.”

“I know.” A smile broke into her face, like sun. “But I think he won’t need as much time for this as with his brother.” Her grin increased. “I wouldn’t worry, sempai. It’s to be expected after all. He ran from his brother for a hundred years. I think he likes playing hard to get.”

The smaller girl raised her eyes to her partner incredulously. Hard to get?

Milly giggled again. “Well, I don’t want to be late again, so I’ll see you tonight.”

A click of the door, and she was left alone again.