Why is the rum gone?

For Rhosyn Du. Thanks to Tiggy for the quick-like-ninja beta.


Disclaimer: I hereby disclaim all ownership of these characters. I just like to play with them. No harm, no foul.




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Milly was asleep by the time Meryl returned from the bathroom, the tall glass sitting empty on the nightstand in a ring of condensation. Brushing a damp strand of hair out of her eyes, Meryl tiptoed across the room, filling Milly’s glass from the pitcher on the table and then sliding between cool sheets with a sigh. Keeping an eye on that spiky-headed fool was hard enough, but watching over him and a drunk Milly was exhausting. Muted voices from the next room blended with Milly’s soft snores and the occasional flapping of the curtain. Out in the street, a door slammed, and snatches of drunken song floated up through the window. Meryl sighed, and closed her eyes.

\"...ere’d the Insurance Girls dis...\"

Meryl’s eyes snapped back open.

\"...ey’re next d... irl can sure hold her drink, can...\"

\"...ittle one’s so...\"

Little one?!

Careful to keep her breathing even and slow, Meryl rolled over until her ear was pressed against the wall. There was a creak of leather, and then glass clanged harshly against glass.

\"Why’s the rum gone?\"

A low chuckle. \"You, however, can’t hold yours.\"

\"But why’s the rum gone?!\"

\"The Big Girl drank it all, Tongari.\"

\"Oh.\" A gentler clink of glass. \"An\' why\'s the clear stuff gone?\"

\"Because you drank it all.\"

\"Well, what\'re you drinking?\"

\"This is... hey!\"

Something slammed against the table.

\"Dammit! Don’t force it! It\'s an insult to the booze to pound it like that.\"

\"Well, it\'s insulting me by... that\'s my drink!\"

\"No, it\'s... hey, that\'s my cigarette!\"

\"You took my drink, so I\'m taking your... your... oogh.\"

Meryl braced for an explosion as Vash shoved awkwardly away from the table and stumbled across the room, coughing savagely.

\"Shit, Tongari, you\'d better lie...\" The springs next to Meryl\'s head groaned as Vash flopped forward. \"That\'s my bed! Dammit!\"

Vash sounded like he had his face buried in the pillow. \"Wolfwood?... spinning...\"

The other chair scraped back across the flooring. \"You gonna be sick?\"

\"No.\" A pause. \"Maybe.\"

More footsteps, mostly steady. \"Get up then. Here, lemme...\" A second body dropped onto the bed. \"Damn but you\'re heavy!\"

\"Ugh... don\'t move, okay?\"

\"God dammit, if you throw up on me...\"

\"M\'not gonna. Just don\'t...\"

\"Move, right.\"

Meryl counted to sixty before Wolfwood spoke again. \"I\'m gonna smoke.\" It was almost a question.

\"Mmkay.\"

A blattering snore erupted from the bed across the room as Milly tossed in her sleep, muttering something indecipherable. The sounds from the other room halted, then the voices picked up again, so softly that Meryl had to strain to catch the individual words. Their voices seemed to grow quieter with each word, until she could hear nothing but intonation. The steady lull of the preacher\'s voice and Milly\'s rhythmic snores blended smoothly with the dim snapping of the fraying curtain. The blankets were warm, and her pillow was soft, and... the twin thuds of shoes hitting the floor snapped Meryl back from the edge of sleep.

She listened carefully, stifling a yawn. The mattress rasped with the sounds of someone turning over and settling down. No voices. The mattress stopped sounding. Still no voices. Meryl yawned again. There - what was that? A crackle of plastic?

The preacher smoked way too much if he was opening another pack at this hour. Meryl closed her eyes. No point in further eavesdropping if Vash was drunkenly passing out. How was she supposed to do her job if that stupid pointy-haired fool was so secr--

The springs on the other side of the wall yielded suddenly, and someone\'s breath caught.

What was that?

Wolfwood muttered something softly sibilant. Meryl strained to hear the reply.

If he blows up another hotel room I\'m asking for a transfer.

Meryl could almost make out the words, but they were drowned out by the noisy bedsprings.

What are they doing in there? It didn\'t sound like anything was the matter... no raised voices, nothing being thrown around, just that rhythmically creaking mattr...

Someone gasped, low in their throat. Meryl felt a flush rise up her cheeks and, to her embarrassment, down her belly.

He\'d been opening a condom? No. That couldn\'t be!

Creak. Creak. Creak-shift. Whimper. CreakCREAK. Creak. Creak.

Vash and... wasn\'t he a preacher? What kind of a preacher would...?

No. It wasn’t possible. She had to be mishearing. They were fighting, or... or someone had found out Vash was here and was holding him for the bounty. Or... well, whatever they were doing, it would undoubtedly end up resulting in massive property damage.

Meryl realized she was toying with the elastic on her panties. She snatched her hand back, then paused.

An urgent groan from the next room sent a bolt of heat down her spine.

It was her job to clarify this situation. Yes. Her job.

Wary of her own noisy mattress, Meryl shifted her upper body until the entire right side of her face was pressed against the wall. Closing her eyes to better concentrate on the sounds, she listened hard.

Beneath the complaint of the tired old springs was the unmistakable sound of flesh slapping against flesh.

Meryl’s free hand slid between her legs and rested against the damp cotton, pressing rhythmically.

Wolfwood would be kneeling above Vash, arms locked on either side of his head, fingers digging into the sheets. Vash’s legs would be wrapped around Wolfwood’s hips. Or, perhaps... Vash had proven how flexible he was, certainly. Perhaps they were higher?

There was a creak of leather as the mattress dipped, and the tempo increased.

Vash would still be wearing his bodysuit, face turned away from the wall and leather-clad arms around Wolfwood’s chest.

The fingers of her left hand described tight circles while her right hand knotted in the nightshirt just below her breast.

Wolfwood’s hair would be hanging in his face as he leaned over Vash. It’d be damp at the temples and the back of his neck, and it’d hide his eyes as he watched Vash lick his dry lips. The muscles of his back would strain against each other as he arched and thrust.

Another creaking shift, and there was the gentle rasp of flesh against leather. Meryl could hear Vash now, his breath, soft and jagged, coming through the wall right beside her. She fought to stop her hips from bucking as her fingers rubbed harder, faster.

Bracing himself on one arm, Wolfwood would slide his hand down the slick front of Vash’s suit, calloused fingers tracing the muted ripple of muscles beneath leather. He would reach between tense bodies, stroking, watching as Vash’s head tipped back and his eyes unfocussed. He would twist his palm with rough accuracy as Vash’s long fingers left red marks on his shoulders.

Vash inhaled sharply, then came with a shuddering moan. A moment later, Wolfwood bit back a cry, and the creaking slowed, then stopped. In the sudden silence, Meryl clenched her teeth as a wave of fire swept through her.

Bare feet padded across the floor, through the door, and down the hall toward the bathroom. Meryl drew a deep breath and sighed, rolling stiffly away from the wall.

\"You’re not going to put this in your report, are you?\" Wolfwood called softly. Meryl squeaked, and froze. Wolfwood chuckled tiredly.

\"Goodnight, short girl.\"

Meryl pulled the thin blanket over her head, mortified, and fell asleep cursing perverted delinquent preachers.