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alexiethymia · 2 years

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checkmate

summary: Milly knew that being good at chess would come in handy one day. And she liked Mr. Vash, she really did, but she’d always be on Meryl’s side, no matter what.

Or, Milly intervenes in the cuddle battle.

(post-canon, mix of manga and ‘98 anime)

[read on ao3]

part 1

When Milly came into work to find Meryl in Mr. Vash’s arms, she was more than pleasantly surprised. She was absolutely delighted!

Meryl was sat upon Mr. Vash’s lap, no wait, in between his legs as his long arms crisscrossed over her body to hold her tight against him.

She was loath to disturb them but she really couldn’t help her squeal of delight. The sound she made as she clapped her hands rang like a gunshot. Both of them whipped their heads toward her, Meryl’s face red with embarrassment and Mr. Vash with a sheepish expression on his.

“Oh, I’m so happy for the both of you! It was about time!”

Milly was grinning ear-to-ear. How could she not when she’d been the hapless observer to this strange dance her friends had been in for years and years. They had always been tip-toeing around each other, one person stepping back each time the other gathered the courage to step forward. Nothing much could get Milly down, but watching her dear friend cry, and Mr. Vash’s pained expression when Meryl recoiled from him broke her heart. She had always thought the both of them made something so simple so complicated.

“What are you talking about Milly?” Oh my, that didn’t sound like a twitterpated young lass. Instead it seemed as if Meryl was gritting each word through her teeth, while Mr. Vash chuckled, “Ehehehe”. If he hadn’t been holding onto Meryl, Milly suspects one of his hands would have been rubbing the back of his head in a rueful gesture.

Meryl turned her sharp gaze above. “Don’t you ‘ehehe’ me. When will you let go already?”

Mr. Vash turned his impish gaze down to the young woman cradled snugly in his arms. “Tut-tut,” he moved one arm to wag a finger in front of Meryl’s face. Milly was of two minds whether or not to warn him that it was at risk of getting bitten off. Despite having only one arm to hold her, it seemed to make no difference as Meryl still couldn’t get out of his secure hold. “I promised I’d let you go as soon as you calm down and you promise not to hit me.”

“WHY YOU-“

“Ah-ah, more time-out it is then,” and if possible Mr. Vash squeezed her even tighter, almost as if he wanted to meld the both of their forms together. Meryl couldn’t see it from her vantage point, and perhaps couldn’t even feel it with how agitated she was, but Milly could see Mr. Vash sneak in a nuzzle or two as he rubbed his face over Meryl’s hair once or twice.

“I get it already, Vash,” she says in a defeated tone. Milly doesn’t know if the red on her face was due to embarrassment or anger at this point, and which of the two was the reason she wanted to escape his hold. By this point, Mr. Vash had encircled both of Meryl’s slight wrists with his large hands, and Milly could practically see the steam lifting off of her boss’ face. “I’m calm, I’m calm, so let go already,” or at the very least she was willing herself to be.

Mr. Vash looked her over and perhaps satisfied with the lack of tension he felt, immediately let her go. As soon as he did, however, it was hellfire and brimstone all over again as Meryl shook her fists at him. But Mr. Vash, as silly as they knew him to be, wasn’t known as a legendary gunman for no reason. With reflexes so fast that Milly could hardly see him move, he had captured Meryl in the same hold, perhaps even tighter if it was even possible.

“I’m disappointed, Insurance Girl,” but he looked anything but. If anything, Milly thought he looked quite gleeful. “Does your word mean nothing anymore?”

Meryl growled at him, “It’s all your fault! How could you lose our thomas! How are we supposed to get to the next town now? Just let me hit you once and I’ll be satisfied.”

“Nope,” Mr. Vash drawled out the word, his mouth in an o-shape, which just incensed Meryl even further, “You’re the one who said I should protect myself better. This is just self-defense, self-defense,” he says self-importantly.

The abject rage Meryl must be feeling at having her words used against her rendered her speechless. In the break of their conversation, Milly decided to interrupt. They had probably forgotten she was even there. She was more than just a bit confused at this point.

“Um?” She wasn’t exactly sure how to phrase her question. Mr. Vash was of no help as he just grinned cheekily at her, while Meryl stewed.

She got her answer only a bit later once Meryl was finally released.

In many ways, Mr. Vash was still the same as ever. He’d run as they chased after him, although he would deign to travel with them sometimes. Although they now knew him for years, it almost felt like the war was some fever dream. It felt like nothing had changed between her two travel companions. Mr. Vash would still flirt or get into trouble, and Meryl would be there hot on his heels to pinch his ear tightly between her fingers as she dragged him away. The same old dance that Milly was getting tired off. It almost felt like a dream, but she had been there. She was a witness to everything, and to see two steps backward for every step forward, now Milly, patient as she was, had to admit to being a tad bit frustrated.

But something had apparently changed, if that hugging episode earlier was anything to go by.

Mr. Vash seemed to have a strange relationship with affection. Although he was often zealous with his advances, he seemed to always expect that he would be rebuffed. She’d often wondered why she and Meryl hadn’t been targets of such abysmal flirtations.

“It’s because he has a type,” Meryl had succinctly put it once.

But Milly didn’t think that was the case. No one could say that Meryl wasn’t beautiful. In fact, if anyone had, Milly would have certain words with them. In her case, it was probably because they had an affable relationship. Mr. Vash certainly reminded her of a few of her brothers with his appetite, and it warmed her to think that he might consider her akin to a little sister.

“It’s because we’re his friends,” she said decisively. Or as decisively as she could in her case. With Meryl, there always seemed to be a question mark at the end. Not that Meryl and Mr. Vash weren’t friends, but the way his tremulous gaze tracked her as she cried or smiled shakily up at him, made Milly certain that he found her beautiful. What confused Milly was why he never said so out loud.

He never asked, at least with words. When he moved forward on his own to envelope Meryl in a comforting embrace, Milly thought that at last there were moving in the right direction.

Although he had become more openly touchy with Meryl, this was still a strange development.

Apparently, Mr. Vash had taken Meryl’s words to heart. Each time Meryl was ready to bonk him on the head with anger, Mr. Vash decided he would put her in a submission hold until she calmed down, so he could protect his ‘poor, sensitive body’.

Meryl seemed to have had the rug pulled out under her with this new development in their routine. The familiar clutch to fall back under was gone. Instead, she had to contend with heat and an ever-increasing heart-beat which was a nightmare to put up with in the scorching atmosphere of No Man’s Land.

And Milly knew, that when Meryl got embarrassed, she got mad, so it was a never-ending cycle, and sometimes it took hours before Mr. Vash was satisfied that she had calmed down enough to let her go.

Once, she had spied Meryl perched sideways across Mr. Vash’s lap as he clutched at her shoulder and his other arm enveloped her wholly and entirely. It may as well have been an iron band, with how futile Meryl’s escape attempts seemed to be. Her head was tucked carefully under his chin as he rubbed it over her hair in a rhythmic motion, as if determined to leave his scent all over her. Huh, she never knew Mr. Vash was a cat. Perhaps he’d meant to relax her, but the motion had a relaxing effect on him instead if his blissed-out, dozing face was anything to go by.

Another time, Mr. Vash had bundled Meryl into his coat, tiny limbs and all, as he deposited her onto his lap. ‘To stop her from scratching me,’ he’d explained with a mischievous grin as Meryl glared daggers at him. Huh, perhaps it was Meryl who was the cat.

But as with anything, her boss was quick to adapt. It was just a few of the reasons why Milly admired her so much.

Usually, Meryl got angry when Mr. Vash did one of three things, got into some sort of trouble, bothered the female population, or got hurt. Oh, and when he disappeared without a word, but Milly knew that the last one just made her sad, and she grew mad to cover up the hurt.

Meryl huffed out a breath causing her bangs to lift, “He’s right,” she admitted reluctantly. “I have no right to get mad at him.”

Although Milly appreciated that Meryl was trying to reign in her temper, she wanted to disagree with that statement.

And so Meryl tried not to react each and every time Mr. Vash caused chaos, tried the deep breathing exercises that Milly recommended to her.

Unfortunately, Mr. Vash noticed. In many ways, Mr. Vash reminded Milly of her youngest big brother. His impulse control was already shaky on a good day, but now it was as if he was like a kid denied his favorite donut. His antics grew more outlandish. An explosion here. Another destroyed car there.

And while Meryl could more or less control herself whenever something bad happened that wasn’t entirely Mr. Vash’s fault, it was another story when he flirted. She couldn’t control her temper then, try as she might. And so, Mr. Vash flirted, terribly, blatantly, and where Meryl could see as much as possible. He seemed to have a precognitive ability whenever Meryl’s fingers would near his ear, or as Milly suspects, he could always tell before and duck out from under the assault, but he still let Meryl do it anyway.

Now, he didn’t let her succeed. Instead, he’d intercept her hand, twist her so she was fit against him, back to chest, as he encircled her. Even as Meryl beat her hands against his on her stomach, it didn’t dislodge the goofy grin on his face.

“Whyyyy, Milly,” she whined pitifully as she finished another shot of gin, “It’s so silly. He can flirt with whoever he wants! Who am I to get mad?”

Milly for once didn’t say anything as she sipped carefully at her drink. She would have to be the sober one this time around. As she watched her boss drown her tears on her crossed hands, she frowned.

“Meryl…is he taking advantage?” Milly hates that she had to ask in the first place. She knew Mr. Vash wasn’t like that at all, but it seemed that he never learned to ask properly.

She remembers Mr. Vash’s contented face, as Meryl ran her hand through his hair to get at another scrape caused by another of his death-defying daring exploits.

Meryl blinks back at her slowly, as she hiccupped. When awareness dawns, she flails, “No, of course not! He wouldn’t. There’s no reason for him to,” she murmurs quietly, but Milly can hear her clearly even in the rowdy bar.

Milly bites her lip, “Meryl, don’t you think…”

But her boss cuts her off before she can even finish. Meryl won’t insult her intelligence by pretending at ignorance. Before it might have worked.

‘As if I could ever like that donut-inhaling, womanizing, human disaster!’

But they’ve been friends for far too long for that. Instead, she dispels her notions with cold logic.

“I can’t be special to him, Milly. It’s just love for humanity, you know?”

Oh, that Mr. Vash. Milly already said she wouldn’t forgive him for making Meryl cry, and now here he was making her second-guess herself again. Meryl looks like she wants to convince herself. But Milly wonders at that strange emphasis.

She’s convinced herself that she can’t be special to him because she’d convinced herself that he loved everybody just the same. Whether it was someone who loved him, like Jessica, or the countless other women who he threw himself at and was rebuffed by.

Meryl and Mr. Vash were both incredibly smart, but often, they were just incredibly silly. Mr. Vash loved Milly, just the same as she loved him, and yet while he was also more open with her now, after putting his burdens behind him, allowing himself to be hugged by her or offering a friendly pat or ruffle of her hair, she remembers that it had not been to her that a promise to return was made or a kiss offered, shyly and hidden though it may have been.

Milly and Meryl had been friends for a long time, braving countless disasters, one humanoid typhoon included, together, so she can hear the words unsaid.

‘I can’t be another person he loses.’

And Milly’s heart breaks because her dear friend is foregoing her own happiness just to avoid the risk, the chance, of taking away from his own. And her heart breaks even further when Milly realizes who she is reminded by.

Denial

Fear

As Milly takes in her friend’s despondent gaze, she wonders which one Meryl would rather live with.

As much as she wants to protest and comfort, she knows Meryl can’t be reasoned with when she’s in this state.

Instead, she thinks of her friend’s current dilemma with the Humanoid Typhoon, and smiles sweetly.

“Hey Meryl, don’t get mad. Get even instead.”