Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

He already had a suit, he had protested onto deaf ears, unable to see the point in buying more of them when they looked mostly the same anyways. It wasn’t that Nicholas D. Wolfwood was opposed to spending money— he actually enjoyed the freedom that came with it—but being fitted for dress shirts and trousers felt too much like a waste.

There were so many other things he would rather focus on; the children he had more or less inherited needed so much attention. Shoes for growing feet, sweaters and coats, books to read, band-aids for the inevitable scraped knee… Yes, caring for the very orphanage that had raised him was a lot of work. Nicholas would never be sure why exactly it had been his name read off a strange benefactor's will, but given that he shared the same name as the patron saint of children, it felt cosmically fitting.

For the first time in his life he didn’t just have money, he had an abundance of it. The numbers and scribbled bank statements made his head swim. Wolfwood had considered growing up to be many things in life, perhaps a priest or some form of caretaker, but never a rich man. So what was he to do with it all? First, he was made to buy an appropriate suit.

It was only afterwards did he set off to a hastily scheduled meeting with a Mister Roberto De Niro, the only journalist to have taken pity on their weird orphan suddenly thrown into the public’s eye. He was a godsend that had even gone above and beyond, helping him to coordinate between Insurance and a million other legalities he would have never thought of.

While the paper Roberto wrote for was respectable, the offices were rather cramped. From the first step inside Wolfwood was immediately swamped by nicotine and typewriters clicking away. He knew his way by now so he led himself to Roberto’s personal office and knocked on the wood paneled door, pausing only a moment to be considered polite, and let himself in.

Sitting at his heavily cluttered desk, was Roberto reading the daily paper with a disgruntled expression. He waved the paper at him, “We’re apparently ignoring tax evasion now”

Ah, Wolfwood quickly figured, his big case had either been pushed back or flat out censored again.

“I wouldn’t know anything about that,” He helped himself to a rogue cigarette off the desk.

“You will,” Roberto dropped the paper onto a pile, “And I know for a fact that you can afford your own pack of smokes now.”

“I already bought new suits, you’re trying to make me go broke already!”

He huffed a laugh, “not if you play your cards right.”

Straightening some things on his desk, Roberto fished out a thin looking notepad and flopped it down in front of him. Wolfwood’s stomach sank.

“We’re just going straight into it, huh?”

“Yep,” Roberto confirmed, “You wanted a list of important people attending your charity gala, and here's everyone who wrote back”

“Right…” He couldn’t bring himself to say thank you, but that was all well and fine because Roberto simply continued;

As he slowly went down the list he was sure to explain who was who, who got their money from where, and who to schmooze or avoid.

“Schmooze? Do I really have too?”

“If you want them to just give healthy sums' to your orphan kids, yes. Make them feel good and important about themselves. That's the key to it.”

Wolfwood tipped ash into a nearby ashtray, “You make it sound like I’m conning them.”

“You are,” Roberto said as though it were so easy.

He stared down at the list of factory owners, steel mongers, and coal barons. The railways had been good to them, truly, but it was inherited wealth that had set them up to be so lucky in the first place. At the very bottom of the list were two new names Roberto had yet to get to.

“Vash and Nai Saverem?”

“Twins,” Roberto said, “From Europe, supposedly titled, and also orphans. They’re on the list invited as someone else’s plus ones, if that’s alright by you.”

“The more the merrier I guess, but if they’re orphans I should really meet them anyways. They may be more open to donating or investing or whatever,” Despite his confidence, Roberto was already shaking his head.

“Have you ever heard the phrase ‘Money talks, but Wealth whispers’?”

Wolfwood nodded.

“Well these two are utterly silent.”

“So they’re very wealthy?”

“Or downright broke,” He lit his own cigarette and took a drag.

“I don’t get it,” Wolfwood put out the last remnant of his in the ashtray.

“To have money, you have to make money, like those investments I keep telling you about. Anytime you move, lose, or make money it leaves some sort of papertrail. A whisper, if you please, somewhere. But these two came out of nowhere, they may have some old estate property and a dusty title, but there’s nothing else to suggest real money. Frankly, they can’t donate what they don’t have.”

“But the title is impressive at least,” Wolfwood stared at their names.

“Only as a gimmick. Don’t fall for it,” He warned.

Sighing, Wolfwood rubbed his temples. This was a major headache, “When will all this be over?”

“When you’re broke or dead,” Roberto snorted and checked his time piece, “But you’d better decide soon because we’ve got to get you going.”

He stood from his desk and snagged his overcoat from the nearby rack. Wolfwood blinked at him, “You’re going dressed like that?”

He looked himself over, “I’m dressed well enough as Press, but I’m actually going home. You’ll have to manage as a big boy on your own, the people there won’t be friendly if I’m there as well.”

“Because you have a habit of tattling on them,” He eyed the discarded newspaper.

“So be careful who you make friends with.”

A weight settled on his shoulders. Woldwood was no stranger to luck, and he really felt himself to have been lucky in Roberto taking pity on him, but he had to wonder; what would he do when that luck ran out? Roberto was right about him needing to be careful. It wasn’t for his own sake that he needed to tread carefully, but for the kids.

“The newbie will be meeting you there,” Roberto ushered him out the door.

Meryl Stryfe, nice and still new enough that nobody bothered her with a second glance. It was smart of him to send her ahead of them even if the night was only going to yield puff pieces.

A horse drawn cab waited for him and while it felt weird to pay the man to take him to a given address, it was easily better than walking. Winter had crept up on them fast and he couldn’t show up to his own party covered in muddy ice sludge.

Watching the horse made him think wistfully, he rather liked horses, perhaps he could have grown up to be a coachman. But then there was his very new fortune…

He could still do it, he thought, but what if Roberto was right? What if all the money dried up? The coachman was working hard for an honest living but he doubted it made for very much. It might have been fine if he were all on his own, but again, he reminded himself that he wasn’t.

On the other hand, people were always on the move and there were always places to be. Wolfwood couldn’t think of anything that would ever change that, therefore the job and business opportunity would always be there. An Investment! Oh yes, he was going to be just fine at this.

Things were decidedly less fine as he entered the rented dance hall and heard the hired string band warming up. Wolfwood patted his coat pocket for his nonexistent pack of cigarettes, ‘Damn’.

“Mister Wolfwood!” Stage whispered a mildly anxious Meryl.

She stood waiting by the entrance table. He’d been so focused on everything that he had missed her completely. It didn’t help that she was so petite, but Wolfwood knew better than to say so.

On the table was a box of spare dance cards and pencils, prepared ahead of time knowing the women attending tonight were wealthy enough to have their own cards custom made, but having to keep with polite presentation anyway. Yet another thing he found to be ridiculous.

“Will you be dancing, Miss Strife?” He greeted her with a smile.

“Absolutely not,” She said, “I’m here to write a piece.”

Drawing a card from the pile, he straightened the ribbon punched in a corner, and offered it to her, “If no one knows you’re press, then why not enjoy a dance or two and see what people have to say for themselves.”

Meryl hesitated with a frown, but accepted the dance card onto her wrist. She had taken the time to dress in a sweet blue gown and by chance the card’s ribbon happened to match. Meryl hm’d as he tied a card onto himself too.

“Do you know how to dance?”

Wolfwood grinned, “I know how to bullshit.”

“These people aren’t normally so gung-ho to welcome new money into their community, you know. Be careful not to give them any more reason to eat you alive.”

“You sound so much like your old man of a boss, someones going to recognize you,” he teased and was rewarded by her cheeks turning pink, “Enjoy the party, Miss Strife.”

Taking one last round about the dance hall, Wolfwood triple checked to ensure everything was in place. An event planner had suggested, in a very heavy handed manner, that since the party was to raise child care funds, why not have the kids come out and sing a cute song or thank the guests. What the planner couldn’t seem to grasp was why he vehemently disagreed with the idea. Those kids spent all their time trying to be perfect, only to have everything about themselves crushed by judgmental adults who had never been in their position.

‘Not anymore,’ Wolfwood thought, because he would be perfect on their behalf.

The clock struck the hour and he dutifully set himself to receiving his guests. He shook hands, carefully recalled all the appropriate names from Roberto’s list, and fake laughed at too many unfunny jokes. Curiously, the twins had yet to make their appearance.

Wolfwood waded through the crowd, occasionally slowing to flirt, acting along to their gossiping imagination’s idea of him. It wasn’t hard to be a spectacle, especially once the alcohol started free flowing. Broad assortments of gaudy fabric danced around him and he diligently held onto his well practiced smile.

Occasionally he caught sight of Meryl dancing but as the event’s time stretched he’d yet to ask or be asked by anyone himself. Apparently being a shiny new toy wasn’t enough to cut it. Wolfwood snagged a drink and enjoyed a harmless moment as a wallflower.

A banker, if he recalled Roberto’s list correctly, struck small talk with him and there again was the pesky question of Investments. He was in the middle of something regarding government loans and moving money when he cocked his head in wonder, “Well I’ll be damned.”

Following his line of sight, Wolfwood watched a small surge of guests rush the door.

“The baronet made it after all,” the banker took a sip of his drink.

Two blonds, one’s hair almost platinum, entered and removed wet travel coats. It must have begun raining outside, but the twins seemed to be unbothered by the chill. As one twin smiled the other frowned, framing them as so literally mirrored it was comical.

“I should greet them,” Wolfwood excused himself, “Thank you for all the sound advice, Mister Edwards.”

He was already walking away as the banker sputtered, “Oh, I—I’m Mister Richards–”

Wolfwood squeezed past the onlookers and offered a friendly face to his late guest, “The baronet and his brother! Pleased to make your acquaintances…”

“Apologies, thank you so much for the invitation,” The golden-blond twin moved to shake his hand first, still smiling brightly.

He may have been cute but, “I didn’t invite you.”

“We were plus ones,” The other twin answered. He shook Wolfwood’s hand after his brother, with a stone cold grip.

“Nicholas D. Wolfwood,” he didn’t press them further about their odd invitations, “Misters Vash and Nai Saverem?”

“Sirs,” the perpetually frowny one, Nai, corrected.

“Right, Europeans,” Wolfwood let out a small laugh, “Enjoy yourselves, we still have some spare dance cards and drinks as well.”

He left them to the whims of the other guest and strolled off back to Meryl, who was currently free of any attention. She was using the moment to herself to scribble notes onto her dance card.

“I may be ‘A Poor’, but isn’t that used for promising dances?” He teased.

Meryl rolled her eyes, “You’re not anymore, but I still have a day job.”

“Are you digging up a lot?” he asked.

‘Sure, but,” she eyed the twins, “I can’t seem to pinpoint who invited them.”

“The event planner probably knows, but that’s pretty redundant, isn’t it? They may just make my gala stand out, so for that I’m happy they’re here.”

She didn’t appear to agree, and wrote something else onto her card.

“Be sure to save a space, I think you’re about to need it,” coming their way was Vash, who occasionally had to pause to exchange words with other guests, even accepting names onto his card for later.

“Mister Wolfwood!” Vash surprised them both, “I was wondering if you had a spare dance?”

“It depends, what sort of dance are you hoping for?” He played it cool and checked the scheduled dances on his card. Meryl, however, raised a brow knowing his card was perfectly empty.

“Whatever’s the next one,” Vash held a hopeful pencil at the ready.

“That would be a Waltz,” Meryl quietly warned.

In the dance hall’s dim light, Vash’s eyes looked incredibly blue and so-so-sweet. Wolfwood offered his arm in acceptance before remembering that he didn’t actually know how to dance, much less dance a waltz. A waltz that would be very close, very public, and would most certainly feed the gossip in attendance.

“I don’t normally do this with a stranger,” he said, aiming for cheeky, but also just being honest.

“I tend to be a bit conventional” Vash shrugged and led him towards the allotted dance floor.

“At least you’re aware,” he muttered.

The current song came to an end and the crowd’s clapping covered the sound of the Musicians changing their sheet music. Wolfwood’s stomach did a flip. People were watching with even more of an avid interest than he thought they would.

“I’m new to this,” he urgently whispered.

“I may have already assumed so,” Vash said, “We’ll keep this simple, just follow my lead.”

So that’s how it would be, ‘God,’ Nicholas needed a cigarette badly. He’d willingly ‘waltzed’ his way into the arms of a fellow bullshitter.

They readied themselves as the musicians eased into the next song, and were now close enough for Wolfwood to get a better look at the red flowers embroidered on Vash’s Waistcoat. He didn’t know much about clothes but he got the sense that mister—sir—Saverem’s attire was a tad bit dated. He wondered, in the world of the wealthy, what was the line between tastefully antique and a fashion blunder.

Vash moved Wolfwood’s hands to where they needed to be, high at his back and the other holding his prosthetic out into the air. Then, only for Wolfwood to hear, he said, “There’s just three steps, you have this.”

Encouragement from a stranger holding him should have been embarrassing but he only felt grateful. He needed this to look good.

“Follow my feet,” Vash added as they began to move—

“Forward,” He whispered in his ear, “To the side,” Wolfwood reminded himself to smile; “Now back, and repeat…”

He got it down and moved with a little more confidence. Their version of the dance may have been painfully simple but he wasn’t stepping on his toes, and Vash was grinning. By all means they were succeeding in their act.

Wolfwood had relaxed until he caught sight of the other twin over Vash’s shoulder. Their eyes met for a brief moment and Nai openly glared. Going rigid, he kept his eyes strictly on Vash for the remainder of their dance.

“There now,” Vash said, pulling away, “A good dance with a Baronet should help with those charity donations.”

He couldn’t help but get the feeling that Vash was poking fun at something, even as he was being nice. Catching his breath,Vash looked over the next couple of names on his dance card. They both knew he would be popular for the rest of the night.

“I hate to sound forward, but would it be alright if I called on you sometime before my brother and I leave for home?”

They only had a split second before they would be separated by a new partner.

“I don’t actually have a calling card to give,” Wolfwood admitted.

“Neither do I,” he waved away their social faux pas, “but what about lunch?”

He made it sound so easy, and it was such a breath of fresh air to be asked to something as simple as lunch like a normal person.

“Yes,” Wolfwood nodded, and just like that, Vash was off with his next partner.

Taking off his dance card and shoving it into a pocket, Wolfwood found another drink and said a little prayer to God in thanks. It had been nothing but sheer hubris for him to think dancing on a whim to be a good idea. If his partner had been anyone other than Vash, anyone an ounce less considerate, he wouldn’t have survived.

And just like that, Vash bumbled around the party, leaving a trail of honest laughs and skillfully directing people to the donations basket. He didn’t get another chance to speak to him privately that night, but every so often Wolfwood could swear he caught the other twin scowling at him.

Chapter Text

Sheets, blankets, quilts, shoes, and coats.

Sheets, blankets, quilts, shoes, and coats.

Basic items that he would have given anything to have had as a child, now provided for the fellow children he had outgrown. Wolfwood looked over his handy work with great pride. They would be warm through the rest of winter, all that was left to do was stock the orphanage with the coal and firewood he had ordered.

‘Money cannot buy happiness,’ was a lie, he now knew, and the wealthy were monsters for spreading it. The toddler he was currently bouncing on his knee laughed, her belly was full, and she was safely warm. His work was relieving some of the pressure off the women who dedicated themselves to keep things running, for a little while at least. Maybe with less financial stress they would be able to afford indulging the children with some spare joy.

“Mister Wolfwood?” A nun poked her head in, “Someone is asking for you.”

“Nicholas is still fine, Sister,” he reminded her as she made way for another person in the doorway.

It was the perkier of the twins from the other night. His cheeks were wind chapped from outside and there was a dusting of snow on his overcoat.

“Have you come to make a donation?” Wolfwood couldn’t fathom any other reason for the Baronet to be there.

“I came by to find you,” Vash corrected and held up the box of pastries he’d carried in, “ And I was hoping to steal some of your time for lunch.”

The kids hanging around zeroed in on the pasty box with great curiosity. If Vash thought he was going to enter and exit an orphanage with the box of donuts intact he was sorely mistaken.

As if reading his mind and the room, Vash added, “These are for your little patrons here. A bribe for your attention.”

Wolfwood snorted but managed not to roll his eyes as he passed the toddler he’d been holding off to another adult. While he stood and collected his things, Vash’s eyes wandered around the room. It must not have been much of anything to a Baronet, but it was practically his entire life. A few beat up toys, and rows of second hand childrens’ beds.

There were small storage chests allotted for any belongings the children might have had, but most like him brought nothing. High on one of the walls was a crucifix and an icon of Mother Mary, always watching over them from the cracked plaster.

His eyes cough Vash’s staring at him.

“So, lunch?” He asked again, “my brother has agreed to be a chaperone.”

Wolfwood tugged on his coat, “Why would we need a chaperone?”

He realized a beat too late as Vash’s expression fell that he was actually being asked on a date. The proper sort that people of class went on while courting, so their glorified babysitter could ensure nothing uncouth happened.

“I appreciate his company as well,” Wolfwood amended. In the back of his mind he wondered who he would ask to act as a chaperone if he were ever in the position to have to. He was friendly with a few nuns, and then of course was Roberto, and both options sounded awful. So, the icy twin it was.

As the two made for their exit a few children mockingly made kissy faces at them, which Wolfwood shot a ‘stop it!’ warning glare. Heat crept along the back of his neck and cheeks. He prayed to God that Vash couldn’t see his mild embarrassment.

“It’s sweet you care so much for children,” Vash absently mused.

“Someone has to,” he muttered.

Standing in the foyer was Nai, holding onto their hats. He looked neutrally bored until he saw Wolfwood, and his face slipped into something hard and unreadable. The air hung awkwardly between the tree of them but Vash smiled positively as though unaware.

“The donuts were a hit with the children,” he elbowed his brother, “ Just like I told you they would be.”

“That doesn’t make it any less wasteful.”

Wolfwood frowned at that heartless response. How could they look so much alike and yet seem to be polar opposites?

He used the sound of snow crunching as something to focus on rather than the twin’s bickering back and forth. They’d both put on pairs of sunglasses and he almost asked if it were true that blue eyes were more sensitive to light, but refrained. Sneaking a glance at them he noted that Nai was squinting as Vash chattered on. The sun bouncing off the snow must have been doing a number on him.

“We’re not going to be late for our reservation, are we?” Vash asked.

Nai shook his head, “It’s on this block.”

He could appreciate a good walk, and gathered Nai was more of a penny pincher than his date. Maybe he was simply private and frugal about their finances. It was something to potentially mention to Roberto later.

“A reservation, huh? You were that sure I would take lunch with you?” Wolfwood teased.

Vash laughed as Nai turned stoney again.

“I Really enjoyed our dance together so I had to be prepared for the best case scena–” He slipped in a patch of icy mud, “--Shit!”

Both Wolfwood and Nai reached for him as he cursed the slick pavement.

“Watch your language,” His brother scolded.

It earned a dramatized eyeroll from Vash and Wolfwood snickered. He’d seen siblings come and go so their behavior was hardly as foreign as they themselves were.

The restaurant was blissfully warm and true to their word, they had a reservation and didn’t have to wait for a table – two tables, as it turned out– Nai sat off to the side by himself and Vash sighed happily at the space.

“If we talk low, we can keep it private,” Vash pulled his chair for him and he tactfully ignored how strange it felt.

Should their positions be reversed? But then, it was Vash who was courting him. Wolfwood had never done this before. He had assumed he might have entered seminary at some point. A partnership had not been at the forefront of his life plans. Nai’s gaze felt heavy at his back.

“Your brother is…” He tried not to sound insulting, “Very attentive, isn’t he?”

Vash peeled off his black gloves and politely laid them in his lap before covering them with a napkin, then sheepishly said, “He is, but only because he feels like has to be.”

He had failed to notice it at his gala, but one of Vash’s hands was a prosthetic. All Wolfwood could do was stare, teh hand was an elegant display of fine woodwork but he had never heard of anyone from high society as being disabled.

“It was an accident,” Vash cleared his throat, “Like I said, he feels like he has to. He takes care of me.”

“Your hand is pretty,” Wolfwood blurted, “--Sorry–”

His carefree smile returned, “I appreciate that, I have a green arm at home too!”

“They come in different colors?”

“Of course!”

The conversation began to fall in naturally and he was glad that it was so easy to laugh together. The longer they talked, the jokes got stupider, and their lunches arrived.

“Alright,” Wolfwood poked at his plate, the chicken was beautifully juicy, “I got one– It’s churchy, though, if you’re alright with that.”

Vash leaned a little closer, “Hit me with it.”

“Okay,” Wolfwood began:

“ A mans praying at church, and he looks to God and prays, ‘God, can you answer a question?’

‘Of course, my son,’ God replies.

‘God, what is a million years to you?’

God says surely, ‘A million years to me is but a second’

The man thinks about it, ‘I guess I understand, so, what is a million dollars to you then?’

‘My child,’ God answers, ‘A million dollars is only a penny.’

The man prays a while longer.

‘God,’ He asks, ‘May I have a penny?’

‘Of course,’ God smiles, ‘Give me just a second.’ “

Vash’s jaw dropped and a small laugh bubbled out of him, “Thats…”

“Not funny?” He raised a brow.

“No,” He scoffed, “God sounds like a bastard.”

A knife at the other table scraped harshly against a plate and Nai seethed,“Language!”

“Oh, he’s still listening,” Wolfwood glanced at their disgruntled chaperone with a smirk.

“Like a hawk,” Vash promised, “You know, I took you for the religious sort of man; All that charity you seem to do with those Nuns.”

Wolfwood shrugged, “A little blasphemy is good for the soul, besides, it’s not really charity if I’m paying them back.”

Vash’s head cocked in question. It was cute, he thought to himself.

“That Orphanage, Hopeland,” He explained, “I grew up there.”

“--But– your inheritance?” Vash’s confusion was evident.

In the back of his mind he could hear Roberto coaching him not to openly speak about it, to let people try to be nosey, but not to open himself up to the public… But Vash wasn’t public, he was just normal. He wore older clothes, and didn’t act like the typical rich nonsensical man. He wasn’t a threat at all. What was the worst those pretty blue eyes could do?

“It’s a bit of a mystery,” He started, “I came of age and a lawyer tracked me down. It was dictated in the will that everything was to remain anonymous.”

“Surely you must have some idea of who your benefactor was? You may not have truly been an orphan…”

“Orphan or not, It was a Will so they’re dead for sure now, and I know better than to disrespect the wishes of the deceased.”

“But wouldn’t you want to know if you were someone?” Vash winced at his own words, “I mean, like a family? It’s a terrible thing to be alone.”

“I’m not alone, I have my work for the children, and I have friends; or at least, I have someone who’s been helping me out.”

As Wolfwood took another bite of chicken he failed to catch the glance the twins shared.

“That’s wonderful,” Vash egged him on, “Like the Lawyer you mentioned?”

“No, no, an actual friend! I mean, he’s a reporter, but he really took me under his wing. He’s pretty knowledgeable I think.”

“Have we, perhaps, read any of his work?”

“I doubt he’s published in Europe,” Wolfwood thought aloud, “But his name is Roberto de Niro, you don’t have to worry about any gossip rags from him, he helped me build the guest list for the Gala and didn’t know you two.”

“There’s hardly anything to gossip about anyway,” Vash laid his silverware against his plate.

Their lunch was coming to a close and it was such a shame, there was so much he wanted to learn about them. The waiter came and left with the check and Wolfwood prepared himself to be bold.

“I know this is forward, I’m still very new to this and I don’t have a calling card,” They grinned at each other so easily his chest clenched, “But I would really love to see you again.”

“My brother and I won’t be here much longer, but maybe I can get something sorted out,” Vash tapped the table thoughtfully.

They prepared to leave and Wolfwood was quick to Vash’s side before his brother could interject. He wanted to help him with his coat! It suddenly felt imperative to pass himself off as a gentleman.

“Are we taking you back to that orphanage of yours?” Nai coldly tucked away his pocketbook.

“Actually, does anyone have the time?” Vash leaned close and shared the face of his pocket watch with him, “I’m supposed to meet with Roberto today before some errands.”

“We could take you! New york isn’t safe to wander around alone,” Vash chirped.

Really, Wolfwood went everywhere alone and it generally turned out fine, but it wasn’t as if he were going to turn down the offer. The best part about this was the way Vash slid his gloved hand into his once they exited the restaurant.

Nai grumpily hailed a cab and motioned for them to hurry along as Vash waved at the horse. They filed in after one another and Wolfwood sat across from them.

“So you’re heading back to Europe soon?”

“Yes,” Nai answered for them.

“You don’t talk much, do you?”

“It’s a waste of breath.”

“Not a fan of being wasteful, got it,” He nodded solemnly.

“I think this is your stop,” Nai said curtly.

Vash discreetly elbowed his twin, “I’ll be seeing you soon?”

“As soon as you’d like,” Wolfwood assured him.

Roberto was not impressed. The kid was doing exactly what he had warned against.

“It was only lunch,” Wolfwood insisted. He was a terrible liar.

Drawing out a cigarette, Roberto watched Wolfwood’s hungry eyes flicker over the pack. He lit his own then sighed and slid the pack across the desk to the kid.

He could remember what it had been like to come of age and how flattering all the new personal attention could be. The lengths a young man would go to get his dick wet were astronomical, and ‘Inexperienced’ was clearly written across Wolfwood’s face.

“Did he laugh at your jokes?” Roberto asked.

Wolfwood kept his attention on lighting up, “Why wouldn’t he?”

“You’re not that funny,” He stated, “And you're still practically swooning.”

“I am not! It was lunch!”

“You’re a shit liar.”

He huffed, “You’re in my business because they’re the only two people you don’t know anything about.”

“Alright,” It wasn’t worth Roberto’s time to argue, “During your lunch did you learn much about the Saverems? He had you talking about yourself, didn’t he?”

The pout that hung on Wolfwood’s lip could’ve been cute if he had any self preservation, but now it only served as a reminder of his naivety, “I learned that one, Vash, is disabled. He has a cool wooden arm–and his brother likes to think of himself as some sort of nanny.”

“Now, how much did they learn about you?”

He chewed on the inside of his cheek.

Roberto stretched in his chair and ignored the snap-crackle-popping from his back.

“There wasn’t much to tell about myself.”

He was stubborn, Roberto could give him that much, “On the off chance this wasn’t just a lunch, do yourself a favor and take things slow, alright?”

Wolfwood stared at his feet as he took a slow drag. He hadn’t asked for any of this.

“Just…” Fuck, he shouldn’t have allowed himself to feel responsible for him, “The next time you go out with them, ask them the important things.”

“Like what?” Wolfwood scoffed as he snuffed the cigarette out in the ashtray.

“Like where they got their supposed money. The average mans’ What Do You Do For a Living?” Roberto withdrew a notepad, the paper was wrinkled from a touch of spilled coffee, and some of the hastily written ink had smeared,” On another note, I looked into some of those venture ideas for you.”

He hesitated before accepting the paperwork, “Why are you helping me so much? If you’re so worried about other people taking advantage of me, what’s in it for you?”

“People who find themselves suddenly rich end up two ways: Either quickly poorer than they ever were before, or dead in a ditch somewhere.”

“So you’ve well established, old man.”

Roberto rubbed his temple, “You’re a good kid and I’d rather see you put your fortune to something worthwhile, so yes, I don’t mind passing on some advice, but if you wind up dead or broke because you didn’t listen to me, you can bet your ass I’m the first one writing about it.”

“Oh, so you’ve got dibs on my failure. Got it,” Wolfwood cracked a smile, “I told Va– Mister Saverem,” He corrected himself at Roberto’s gruff huff, “That you probably wouldn’t write anything on them.”

“Why the hell would you tell him that?”

“I said probably!”

“Some of us still have to work for a living,” he jokingly scolded, hopefully the Saverems would be packing their bags and leaving soon enough, “On these lists there are some financial advisors you should consider. Pick someone you like. Really, you should have done so already.”

“There’s just so much to do,” he muttered to himself.

There was, but it couldn’t be helped. Roberto wasn’t sure where Wolfwood would be on his own, but he chuckled at the mental image of him burying bags of money out in the woods somewhere.

“I’ve got a couple more errands to take care of, do you mind if I take this with me?”

Roberto waved him off, he had put together the list and notes for him afterwall. Worrying wasn’t something he put much stock in but as wolfwood tugged on his coat and left, a sick feeling took hold in his gut. Something wasn’t right.

He waited a few minutes for Wolfwood to have fully left the building, then got up and stuck his head out of his office.

“PSP!” He aimed a pen to throw, “Newbie!”

Meryl looked up in time for the pen to hit her side and she glared at him, “Seriously?”

“Just c’mere,” He ushered her in and closed the door behind them.

“What’s going on?”

“I’m not sure yet,” He idly traced the edge of his cigarettes, “Did you notice anything out of place at the Gala?”

“You mean other than Mister Wolfwood?”

“What do we know about the Saverem twins?”

She took a slow breath, “They were…guests of the davidsons, I believe.”

“How much time did they spend with them?”
Meryl’s face scrunched up, “Hardly any, but it was a party. Everyone wanted to catch a spare dance.”

“The Davidsons are also social climbers,” he said.

“You don’t think they really know the twins either?”

“I think it makes them look interesting if they do. Aristocrats make for good talk,” He wrung his hands together, “I think their acquaintanceship is fresher than either party would like society to know.”

Craning to look at the scattered mess on his desk, Meryl said, “But why go through the effort just to attend a charity social event?”

That was what worried him so much.

Her face snapped up to meet his, “Is Wolfwood in some kind of trouble?”

“I don’t know,” he admitted.

Roberto watched as Meryl helped herself to the contents of his desk, reading over his notes and news clippings, hoping a second pair of eyes would yield some sort of comfort.

In the end she came to the same conclusion, “We need to know more about the twins.”

His patience broke and he lit another cigarette, “They took him to lunch today.”

“Of course they did,” her grimace matched his own, “You should have seen when one of them danced with him. Everyone in the room could have seen those puppy eyes.”

“Puppy eyes, huh?”

A bottle of whiskey was calling his name from a desk drawer but he ignored it. Something told him he would be spending a few late nights in the office and would have plenty of time to indulge with it. Something in his bones screamed they had a case here.

“Are you open to a little travel?” He asked.

“That's why I took the job.”

Roberto pressed a pen to some stationary, “I have a contact that works Insurance, looking into fraud and the like, she’s as fresh faced as you are but maybe the two of you can dig something up.”

“Milly Thompson?” She read over his shoulder.

Roberto looked her over and, well, ‘petite’ was probably the respectable thing to call her, “You have a gun, right?”

It was hardly appropriate to send her out alone, but she would only have to manage until she could partner with Miss Thompson. The two could look after each other and they’d be safe together. Damn, he really wanted that swallow of whiskey.

Wolfwood had never been given flowers before. He’d arrived at Hopeland the following morning and found roses waiting for him, and he stared at the soft red petals unsure of what to do with them. It was obvious who they were from, so, red cheeked and mildly embarrassed, he found a vase and put them in water so they would last until he could get them home to his shoebox apartment.

If he were blushing as the nuns teased and coo’d at him, he would never admit it.

On the second day he slept in, and spent his lunch eating a cold cut sandwich as he drafted a Thank You car. His penmanship had always been a source of pride, and it now eased his heart to know Vash would receive something neat and tidy from him.

He was slow to the orphanage with only the intention of checking in, then would be off to bug Roberto with complaints about the banking legal system. It was a sound to-do list but he wouldn’t make it to see him, because this was the day a pipe would burst from the cold.

It was an absolute mess beyond any of their skill level, which meant he spent the rest of his day sniffing out contractors and repair supplies.

By day three he was craving distraction.

A few of the kids hung around him as he tried to focus on measuring out wood to replace the water logged baseboards.

“Don’t any of you have anything better you could be doing?” He swatted at one of them.

“Nooope,” A second kid sang.

“What about school? It’s important, you know.”

“School let out, already, Nico!” Damn, it was that late in the day already?

Wolfwood broke the piece of chalk he was using to tic his measurements in half and held it out to the eldest of his little wannabe ducklings, “Here, go play hopscotch or something.”

“It’s snowing outside.”

“Then play in the foyer!”

They grumbled but left him alone to do his work. He’d had to hire someone for the pipes but then figured he himself could redo the damaged wall. It had to be yanked out, he insulated it with dry newspapers, and put up plaster. Unfortunately it wasn’t looking as nice as the surrounding interior, but maybe a professional could revisit it sometime in the future. The amount of time he now spent thinking about money was growing to be insufferable.

Working steadily, and enjoying the quiet, Wolfwood failed to think anything of it when the Children’s conspiring giggles floated down the hall.

He missed with the hammer and accidentally banked his thumb rather than the nail, “Sonnovabitch!”

“Language!” A familiar laugh came from the doorway.

Vash stood leaning against it and smiled down at him. His red crushed velvet coat seemed damp from the weather and he wondered if moisture would ruin it.

Wolfwood clutched his throbbing finger and peered around him, “No Chaperone?”

He joined him, “Not this time, I hoped to stay a while longer, so Nai went on ahead to take care of a few things at home.”

“But who will keep us out of trouble?” he asked, as though mockingly scandalized, then stage whispered, “Who will protect our virtues?
Vash snorted, “What are you, an old woman?”

It was a great relief to find that he wasn’t as prim or proper as his brother.

“Not an old woman, but I was brought up by several,” He shrugged.

Tilting his head, Vash took a pause to listen to all the busy noise around them, “It must have never been a dull moment.”

“What do you mean?” Wolfwood repositioned the current nail in hand and tried to not hit his thumb again.

“All the other children and caretakers, I just mean you must have never been…lonely.”

It was true, Hopeland was more often than not overcrowded. Too many children, and not enough staff… It was an artificial family, but a family nonetheless. The thought then occurred to him that for all of Vash’s concern about Wolfwood’s lack of blood relation; He’d yet to mention anything about his own upbringing.

“How about you? Surely your upbringing wasn’t as crowded?”

“It was not,” Vash said with a raised brow, “It was really only my brother and I.”

“But what about…” His question died in the air.

Vash leaned closer to him and helped steady the baseboard, “Our parents? We didn’t have the pleasure of meeting our father, and our mother was lost to an accident when we were kids. It makes for a quiet house.”

“I bet,” He let out a low whistle, “And what about friends?”

“Currently trying to make some!” His chipper tone returned, “Besides fixing Orphanages, what do you do for fun around here?”

The final nail was hammered into the baseboard, completing the new wall, only lacking a coat of paint. Wolfwood scrubbed the back of his neck as he considered how to answer. There hadn’t been much to do when he was broke, and he didn’t have the slightest clue what men like the Saverems did with their free time.

Vash helped him out, “What about drinks? Do you have any suggestions?”

The bar’s heat had led to both of them stripping out of their coats and laughing at each other as the drinks threw their balance off their respective barstools.

“My brother’s gonna be pissed,” Vash said with wide eyes as if the realization had only just occurred to him.

Even in the low light, his hair still looked golden and something about the way it insisted on sticking up was charming. Wolfwood couldn’t help but to stare, but he was allowed to wasn’t he? After all, this was another date.

“You’re staring,” Vash grinned around the brim of his drink.

“Can’t I?” He asked.

It was cute when he blushed and Wolfwood wanted nothing more than to make him do it again and again. Later he would blame the heavy beer slowing down any common sense he might have had.

They were surrounded by other loud drunks, in the corner of a bar without a chaperone, so they did what any young couple would do.

Wolfwood was thankful to be tipsy. Having never been kissed before, he would have an excuse if Vash found him bad at it. His lips were as warm as the rest of him and for a split second Wolfwood’s mind blanked in panic–he didn’t know what to do–but Vash pulled him closer.

A sobering rush flooded his senses and he forgot to breathe before Vash pulled away with a polite laugh.

Wolfwood swayed a little on his barstool and Vash gripped his knee to help settle him. Heat ran up his leg to his gut and it almost frightened him to learn he wasn’t above begging for another kiss. Almost.

“It’s time I should probably get you home,” but just like that it was over.

“Already?” He blurted.

“If we run the tab up any further we’ll both grow broke,” Vash comically winced, “And that would be bad.”

“Right, right, money runs the world and buys food,” Wolfwood didn’t question it. As they stood the bar violently spun and he could swear he felt his brain slosh around in beer, “Holy shit.”

“Yeah,” His date agreed.

They staggered out after leaving a few bills, and Wolfwood swiped a beaten pack of cigarettes from a dozing man. There was only one left in the pack so he fished it out and tossed the box into the garbage. He only lit it once they were outside in the brisque cold, and Vash watched intently.

“Can I try?” His excitement was palpable as Wolfwood slowly exhaled smoke.

He gently passed him the cigarette, “Small drag or you’ll–”

Vash was already coughing, with tears in his eyes, and Wolfwood dutifully patted his back. It took a few moments for the nicotine high to catch up to their warm drunken buzz.

“Do you do this often?” Vash asked with a tone of amazement.

They passed the cigarette back and forth while they waited for the cab, “Not often but once in a while, you know.”

Humming, Vash slipped his hand into his again Wolfwood beamed with pride. He could not wait to gloat to Roberto that ½ of the twins was completely normal, therefore he had been worried about nothing. Presently, he ignored the fact that the old man had called it on their dating status, but that thought could wait until his hangover arrived.

The ride home went by far faster than he would have liked, and he stared at the stairs to his apartment with a silent groan.

“Just a moment?” Vash called to their driver, “I’m gonna walk Cinderella here home!”

“Cinderella?” Wolfwood questioned.

“C’mon,” Vash tugged him along to the front step.

For a split second there was something uncertain in the air, but whatever it was, Wolfwood couldn’t read it.

“Thank you for tonight,” Vash finally said.

“You took me out,” Again, he reminded him.

“And I want to keep doing so!”

Wolfwood glanced at the front door, “Then it’s a good thing that you know where to find me.”

He dreaded going inside but the tips of his toes were surely blue by now. Vash took a tentative step away and froze.

It was then that Wolfwood knew this was his moment to be bold, “What? I don’t get a kiss goodnight?”

The tightness in Vash’s shoulders dissolved, and Wolfwood tugged him close. Their second kiss was much less clumsy. This time he didn’t stall, but it was still much more brief than he would have liked.

Wolfwood’s apartment was nearly as frigid as outside but as he bundled himself up under multiple blankets he couldn’t bring himself to be bothered by it. The phantom sensation of a ship rocking brought to him by the last dregs of alcohol lulled him halfway to sleep, but was brutally interrupted by the sound of something falling and smacking the floor.

Fear forced him to sit straight up and there in the corner stood the shape of a man.

He drew a sharp breath and strained to see the perpetrator in the dark.

The shadow of a man was veiled in some sort of thin cloth– ‘A death shroud,’ his bewildered mind supplied– and from it came the faint smell of cigarettes.

Death often had the habit of chasing orphans, this was a frightening lesson he’d learned as a child. Wolfwood would gladly pray for and dedicate Mass to the souls of purgatory, but he would not do business with them. He was alive, and they were not. Their unfinished business was not his responsibility.

Pulling a blanket up over his head, Wolfwood squeezed his eyes shut and prayed for sleep to rescue him.

He must have only been asleep for a few hours before there was a harsh banging on the door. It was consistent and repetitive. Wolfwood couldn’t pretend it wasn’t real and each bang ricocheted around his head like a gunshot.

“I’ll be there in a second!” He called through a bad case of cotton mouth and an unrelenting headache.

Jesus Christ

Still dressed from his night out, Wolfwood stumbled to the door and his heart fell out of his ass when he opened it to two police officers.

“Nicholas D. Wolfwood?” One asked.

He cleared his throat, “Yeah?”

The sun hadn’t even come up yet.

“Do you know a Mister Roberto De Niro?”

“What’s this about?”

This early in the morning the working class would be heating their clothes to head off to work. Roberto should be at his office. He should be lighting a morning cigarette and complaining about whatever bullshit news draft was left on his desk.

Again, there was the ghostly smell of nicotine and his stomach twisted with nausea. He already knew what they had come to say.

“With no next of kin, we’re looking for an acquaintance to make the identification.”

“Identification?”

“Yes sir, we’ve been led to believe you spent a great deal of time with him.”

He wanted to shut the door in their faces, “I–What do you mean by Identification?”

“I’m sorry sir, but he’s been found in the early hours deceased. The morgue needs someone to claim the body.”
Where was Meryl? DId he even know anyone outside the two of them and work?

“Dead how? I just saw him three days ago. He was fine,” Wolfwood couldn’t move.

The two officers looked at each other, then the other said, “We’ve opened a murder investigation.”

“I…Let me grab my coat,” He left the officers waiting for him.

In the same corner of his room stood the ghoulish shadow. This time he could see a rust color blooming through the chest area of the shroud.

Wolfwood scrubbed his face and refused to cry.