Honey If You Love Me

“My patient should be getting out of surgery right now,” Nick checks his Rolex, “Do you mind if I call the hospital?”

“Why would I?”

The young doctor rises from the table and kisses the top of Vash’s head. “Sorry, I’ll try not to be too long.” He has his cellphone out before he even leaves the hall, waving to his… well, whatever Vash is to him, as he exits.

Kolya whistles low and nudges the blond with his elbow. “You did pretty well for yourself, Vaschel. He looks like he’s fantastic in bed.”

“As though I would be with anyone who wasn’t. Speaking of which, that counsellor you were fucking still looks pretty good, considering he must be near fifty by now.” He points to the man in question, looking much as he had ten years earlier save the grey in his hair. “Bet you’d still take a piece of that, hm?”

“Vash!” Nikolai exclaims, mock-scanalized as he clamps his hands over Nadya’s ears, “Not in front of my wife!”

Dimitri scoffs and leans against Leonardo, already a little drunk. “The hell does it matter? She already knows what a queer you were.”

“Yes, but I like to save the stories of my sexcapades for when we’re getting a little bored and need to spi–“

“I need a drink.” Vash shoves away from the table before Kolya can elaborate on the kinks of his heterosexual marriage and heads for the bar at the other end of the room. So much has changed in the last ten years. So much is the same. He’s not sure how he feels about it.

“Vodka and cranberry juice?” He nods. He’s been to the bar several times already this evening, the bartender recognizes him now. It pleases Vash to know that people, even if they’re bartenders, pay attention to what he looks like. He’s always been something of a narcissist.

It’s an open bar so he doesn’t need to pay when he recieves his drink, which almost makes up for how outrageous tuition for the stupid school had been. Almost. He turns to head back to the table and nearly collides with the person standing behind him, thankfully sloshing only a little of the drink over the side of the glass. He regains his balance and looks at the man, not sure if he was intending to apologize or berate. He does neither.

“What the fuck are YOU doing here?”

Mits casts his gaze away and scratches the back of his head, a gesture Vash is all-too-familiar with. “I live near here, and I was friends with a lot of people in this grade, so I–“

“It was a rhetorical question.” Vash pushes past, disbelieving, why, WHY him of all people, why did he have to be here, why did he have to look the same as he did eleven years ago, why did he still smile like that?

Mits grabs a wrist as Vash passes, pulls him closer, close enough for Vash to know that there is no alcohol on his breath. “We should talk.”

Vash sips his drink, still in his free hand, like nothing was happpening. “You’ve had ten years to talk to me. I’m not that hard to find.”

“Would you have come back to me?”


“But, but,” Mits grips his wrist tighter, pulls him closer, Vash is getting dizzy, “you were going out with someone, and you looked so happy! I thought you–“

“I waited for you.” Vash can smell cheap cologne and cheaper soap. “I kept looking for you, the day I graduated, but you never came, and I cried myself to sleep. I told Brad that I was going to leave him if you came back. You didn’t and I left him anyways.” He’s drunk, he’s lonely, he’s in love all over again, but he sets down the vodka and pushes Mits away because he still has his pride, damnit, and he’s not going to give that away with his still-beating heart.

Mits kisses him. It feels exactly the way he remembers.

“Sorry I was so long, there were some complications… well, I’m sure you don’t care.”

“We’re leaving.” Vash raises his head from the table, props himself up on his elbows as he looks at Nick. “Your wife doesn’t expect you home for a week, right? Take me somewhere exotic, you’re rich.”

He still has his pride, damnit.

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