Title: Pretty in Pink ‘06

 

Author: Rubious

 

Rating: PG

 

Warnings: humor, mild swearing, laundry mishap, AU-OOC.

 

Disclaimer: Trigun © Nightow. This is a work of fanfiction and is intended for entertainment purposes only.

 

Note: Vash helps out the insurance girls by doing the laundry.

 

//thoughts//

 

* * *

Her fingers danced furiously across the typewriter keys as Meryl Stryfe rushed to finish another claims report. “Damn,” she swore when she inadvertently hit the wrong key, making another spelling error. The Bernardelli Insurance Society investigator grabbed an eraser and corrected the mistake. She felt pressured to meet the impending deadline the home office had set to complete the seemingly endless stream of claims filed after a sand steamer collided with a bus.

 

“Meryl?” asked her partner, Milly Thompson. The brunette looked over from the files that she had been alphabetizing.

 

“Just made another typo,” Meryl sighed. “We have to send these reports back to the home office for Mr. Lamassi by tomorrow morning. Looks like we’ll have to pull an all-nighter.” Their work duties had left little time for the women to do other things like eating or doing laundry. They managed to squeeze in time for a quick time, but the laundry had been neglected, forcing the insurance girls to wear the last of their clean wardrobe. Meryl had on a sweatshirt and jeans while Milly’s outfit was a t-shirt and yellow Capri pants.

 

“We’ll get through this,” Milly commented optimistically.

 

“I was looking forward to seeing that new play, Painful Lessons, at the Angst Theater tonight,” remarked Meryl, disappointed at missing the night of entertainment.

 

“There’s always tomorrow night,” her partner offered.

 

“I suppose,” the petite investigator said, rolling up the sleeves of her bologna Festival sweatshirt and began typing another claim form.

 

 

Vash the Stampede ambled into the boardinghouse where the insurance girls were staying. The past few days had been hectic for him, avoiding another group of bounty hunters out to claim the 60-billion double-dollar bounty for capturing the notorious gunslinger. The chase had ended when the bounty hunters’ vehicle careened into a sand steamer. Finding a moment to finally relax, he munched on one of his favorite comfort foods, a delicious glazed donut.

 

Hearing the clacking of a typewriter in the adjoining room, he mused, “Sounds like the girls are busy with work.”

 

Being the helpful sort, Vash wanted to do his part to assist Meryl and Milly in any way possible. He decided that he would do some of the housework. Seeing Meryl’s white cloak and white laying over the back of a chair, Vash picked up the clothes and started a load of laundry.

 

Turning the washer to a hot water setting, he dumped in the cloak and blouse along with the other whites that he gathered from the laundry basket placed nearby. Vash noticed that his red trench coat was fairly dirty and could use a good washing. “I’ll just throw this is too,” he said, adding the duster to the load. Before shutting the lid, the helpful gunman poured in a cup of detergent. After the lid was closed, the washer began the wash cycle.

 

With the laundry done, Vash started the ironing, carrying a stack of Meryl’s blouses to the ironing board. “I’ll surprise Meryl with my initiative,” he said, grinning. Waiting for the washer to finish, he ate another donut. Ten minutes later, he switched the wet clothes into the dryer. By this time, the iron had reached the proper temperature setting and Vash began pressing the diminutive investigator’s blouses. Suddenly, a rapping at the door distracted him. Forgetting that he had put the steaming iron down on the white garment, Vash hurried to the door.

 

“Vash, are you in there?” a voice called from outside.

 

“Coming,” the blond gunman replied.

 

Vash opened the door to see an impatient, nicotine-addicted priest, Nicholas Wolfwood standing outside. “About time,” Wolfwood complained, stubbing out a cigarette with his boot.

 

“I was busy doing laundry,” Vash explained.

 

“Vash the Stampede doing laundry?” the preacher guffawed. Lighting up another cigarette, Wolfwood said, “I’ve got some disturbing information you might need. A lot of people are missing from LM town. The sheriff reported seeing ‘Knives’ scrawled in blood in the town square.”

 

“That’s not good,” Vash replied. The pair settled into a deep discussion of future plans on how to deal with Knives and the Gung Ho Guns. The would-be housekeeper lost track of time. “Oh, shit!” he groaned, remembering the ironing. Rushing back inside, he discovered the iron had scorched Meryl’s blouse with a solid black imprint.

 

//I’m gonna get it. She’s gonna freak if she sees this. I know. I better hid the damage.// Feeling nervous, Vash stashed the ruined blouse under the top item of clothing on the pile. He unloaded the dryer, not noticing the slightly tinged garments and hung the cloak and one blouse over the chair in the bedroom. Donning his red duster, he reveled in the warmth of that fresh-from-the-dryer feeling and snuggling it tightly like a toddler clutching its favorite blanket. The outlaws grabbed the remaining donuts from the kitchen and nibbled on a frosted delicacy, acting as if nothing had happened.

 

 

Stretching her arms above her head, Meryl took a break from the exhaustive paperwork. “Milly, I’m going to get some coffee. Do you want anything from the kitchen?” she asked.

 

“A dish of ice cream would be nice,” Milly responded cheerfully.

 

//How can Milly remain so happy doing mundane reports?// Meryl went in search of caffeine to keep her awake from the boring tedium of paperwork. Meryl saw Vash leaning against the dryer. Trying to project an image of innocence, he smiled at her.

 

Going into her darkened bedroom, she took off the sweatshirt and donned the cloak and place she had previously placed on the chair. Passing a hallway mirror, she thought she noticed something different about her appearance. She glanced down, seeing that her blouse and cloak were now a shade of pink. She screamed.

 

Seething, an irate Meryl confronted Vash. “What the hell happened to my clothes? They turned pink!” she ranted, angrily shaking the suspect by the shoulders.

 

“I just did a load of laundry,” he whimpered.

 

“They should have been all white,” she growled.

 

“I threw in my coat too,” Vash answered.

 

“You moron! You don’t mix colors with whites in the same load of laundry.”

 

“Well, I didn’t know that. I only wanted to help out,” Vash explained defensively.

 

“You should be called the Humanoid Buffoon!” Meryl retorted, spiting out the words acidly.

 

Hearing the commotion, Wolfwood rushed in from outside where he had been playing with some children nearby. His Cross-Punisher was slung over his shoulder, ready for action. Milly entered from the office, concerned that her partner might be hurt.

 

“What’s going on?” Wolfwood demanded in a harsh voice.

 

“Vash ruined my clothes! He turned them pink,” stated Meryl, staring daggers at the error-prone Stampede.

 

“Meryl, pink looks good on you,” Milly commented.

 

“Pink is a soothing color,” Wolfwood chortled.

 

“Actually, Meryl looks pretty in pink,” observed Vash, a shy grin on his face.

 

Meryl stomped away to replace her blouse. Finding the pile on the ironing board, her face darkened upon discovering the previously unblemished cotton garment marred with a scorch mark. “Vash,” she snarled, “I’m gonna kill you!”

 

The End

 

Author’s Notes

1)      Sydney Rhudy drew a wonderful illo for this story, which can be seen at www.geocities.com/odangodonut/prettyinpink.jpg.

 

2)      For more information on other writing projects, check out my live journal at www.livejournal.com/~weisshund.  Feedback for the story can also be sent to me there.