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Vash wakes up to the smell of cinnamon and vanilla.
It's not an abnormal smell, but it's rare enough to pull a sleepy smile across his lips, knowing exactly what that smell means today in particular.
He's too excited to bother getting changed from his baggy pyjamas, skipping straight downstairs as soon as he's awake enough to not fall flat on his face at the last step.
As he'd thought, Nai is in the kitchen, throwing an exasperated look over his shoulder when Vash narrowly avoids skidding into the countertop before the brothers share a fond grin.
"Happy birthday, Vash." The elder twin greets, plating up the last slice of french toast and passing it over to his brothers grabby hands.
"Happy birthday, Nai~" He chirped back, planting an obnoxious kiss on his cheek just because he knows Nai hates it.
The bread is cut a little too thick, a little burnt at the edges, and it's exactly how Rem used to make it for their birthday every year. Vash will pile his with blueberries and only blueberries, Nai likes strawberries and raspberries with just a little bit of cream and extra cinnamon.
They sit and eat together, a rarity despite still living in the same house. Rinse off the dishes to clean properly later and light a single candle each, clink the sticks of wax together in a cheers and blow each others out, leaving the remains in a little drawer above which sits a framed picture of them both, with Rem’s arms wrapped around them and silly little party hats on each of their heads.
Routine. Tradition. It hurts a little less each year, with each repetition. The pain of loss fading into a bittersweet melancholy. Vash will never not miss his mother, and he knows Nai feels the same, but every year it’s a little easier to remember the good. To think how much fun they’d have rather than mourn how lonely it is.
The first difference this year is instead of spending the whole day together, Vash and Nai only have half the day to lounge around. They make the most of it acting like little kids again, Vash throws leftover blueberries at his brother, Nai tackles him to the sofa. They wrestle, kick, bite and laugh together, settle down and Vash lays in Nai’s lap to watch a show before an alarm blares from Vash’s phone and the second half of their birthday begins.
Nai is going out to a fancy dinner with Legato, Vash has a party planned with Nick and the girls. They don’t mind the separation, just bitch about each other's outfits and bid the other ‘I love you, have fun’.
Vash meets Nick and the girls outside his favourite restaurant, a little over dressed for a place that’s barely a step up from fast-food, not dressed enough for anything fancier, and he tugs at the hem of the crop top self consciously for a second before several hands grab his own and bully him into a booth, loudly and giddily declaring him the birthday boy when they beckon a waitress over to order.
They’re far from the only rowdy patrons. It’s late enough that a handful have clearly already started drinking and partying, afternoon quickly slipping into evening and what with this place being sandwiched right on a popular clubbing street, the woman with their menus just gives a smile and offers a free slice of cake.
They fill up on hearty, greasy food. Share laughs pressed to each other's sides, feet tangled under the table so much it’s hard to tell whose shoe is whose at one point, and Vash doesn’t feel half as lonely as he had that morning, setting his candle down under Rem’s picture.
He still has a family, even if one part of it is missing. And he loves them just as much.
Milly squishes them all into one side of the booth when dessert is served, a decent slice of fudgy chocolate cake with a sprinkler stuck in it. Someone brought an actual camera, and several pictures are snapped in succession of Vash’s beaming face, Vash blowing out the sparkler, smearing chocolate icing on Nick’s nose, Meryl trying to stab a bite while Vash and Nick wrestle, and everyone scrambling over each other while Milly holds the cake high out of reach with a bright laugh caught in motion.
Vash will later treasure those photos, prints them out in physical copies and tucks them away safe in a little box under his bed, filled with Rem’s old jewellery, more photos of the twins as kids, a shiny chunk of quartz Nick had given him the first day they met. Little keepsakes of happy memories.
For now they devour the sticky slice between the four of them, clean up in the bathroom scrubbing sauce off cheeks and re-applying makeup where necessary.
“Hold on a sec, Blondie.” A hand stops Vash as he turns to leave the bathroom. A warm, wide and calloused palm wrapping gently around his wrist and tugging him back, only making a curious little noise in the back of his throat when Nick carefully manhandles him back to face the mirror with a little grin.
“Trust me, close your eyes.” And of course he does, would never not trust the man standing behind him. Well, mostly. There’s been more than one occasion where Nick has abused Vash’s trust to pull something cheeky and annoying like stealing his fries or catching him off guard to tickle his sides.
So when Vash, not knowing whether to expect something sweet or bratty, feels something warm and soft being tied around his neck, his breath catches in his throat, hand flying up to finger at what feels like leather, braided together into…a necklace?
“Can I look now?” Eager, curious, already rocking on the balls of his feet.
“Yeah, g’head.”
Vash’s eyes snap open and immediately dart to the new addition around his neck. Braided leather cords, like he’d felt. A soft chocolate brown, tied together into a choker that stands out against his pale skin.
He thumbs at the charm that falls into the hollow of his throat. A single, surprisingly detailed little angel wing, carved out of what looks to him like petrified wood.
“Nico….” Vash swoons, melting into the arms that wrap around his waist, feels the smile that’s pressed into the bare skin of his shoulder and tries not to get too choked up by the ‘Happy birthday, Angel’ that’s mumbled sweetly to the same spot where Nick has decided to hide.
“No, hey. Don’t be shy, I love it.” Vash encourages, grinning fondly and twisting to face him, tugging Nick’s head back up with his palms squished against flushed cheeks.
“You’re so sweet~”
“Nnngh.”
“The sweetest thing, so adorable~ Cute Nicoooo-”
“Oh my god shut up already, I got the picture.” A broad palm is shoved in his face, pushing him away and they scuffle for a moment, pushing and shoving at each other with little giggles in between put-upon grumbles.
Someone wandering in and giving them a strange look abruptly reminds the pair they’re one step away from wrestling in a public bathroom, sheepishly straightening themselves back up and rushing back out to rejoin the girls for their next stop.
Sanctuary is something between a hole-in-the-wall dance-dive and an actual business as a club. The atmosphere is always pulsing and laxed, but they’re surprisingly strict with the rules they have. It’s safe is the main draw, for locals and visitors alike. And fun. And on weekends your first drink is free.
So the group naturally makes a beeline for the bar when they pour in through the doors, UV stamps alight on the backs of their palms as each knocks back two rounds of shots because what else do you do when you go out to a club for your birthday?
With a pleasant buzz settling under their skin, Nick orders a whiskey to nurse while the girls promptly drag Vash straight to the dancefloor. It’s not the first time the group has done this, so they settle into the flow of it with ease. Nick will get dragged over by one of the girls before the night is over, Vash will get adorably drunk and clingy and gravitate back to Nick and they’ll all go home and bitch about hangovers in the morning.
So colour Nick surprised when he looks up a little later to scan the crowd of heads for a shock of blonde like usual, checking in on the group, and finds Vash twirling in the arms of some random stranger.
That’s not…abnormal, exactly. But Vash is already clearly past tipsy with the way the blond presses up against the stranger, gaze half-lidded and grinning, letting out a laugh Nick can’t hear from here as he’s spun playfully, head thrown back and Nick’s throat tightens with something burning and clawing.
He’s not exactly sober himself, would be his argument for why he suddenly gets to his feet at the sight, shouldering his way through the bodies to the dance floor. For why he abruptly snatches Vash’s waist before he can fall back from his spin, wrapping his arms around the lean blond in a blatant display of possession, hooking his chin over Vash’s shoulder and levelling a glare at his ex-dancer partner who luckily takes the interruption well, backing off with a laugh and hands held out in surender.
“Time t’go home a’ready?” Vash slurs in his hold, leaning practically all his bodyweight into Nick’s arms and snapping the other out of his little bough of seething jealousy.
Yes, that’s the word for that feeling. He’d been jealous watching Vash dancing with him, and Nick only lets himself feel a little guilty for ruining the blonds' fun.
“Y’wanna go home, Angel?” He questions gently instead, getting a lethargic nod in answer. A little surprising, but Vash did tend to crash hard the second he stopped when it came to partying.
He ends up just hefting Vash up onto his hip like an overgrown, lanky toddler when getting him to pick up his own feet proves a challenge, earning them a fit of hysterics when Nick tracks down the girls.
He pays for everyone's cabs, waves the girls goodbye and lets Vash nap in his lap in the backseat till they get back to Nick’s apartment, and ends up carrying Vash bridal all the way up to his floor. He’s not unconvinced the brat isn’t putting it on, but indulges without a word.
Neither can bother to even mention a shower. At best Nick scrubs gently at a sleepy Vash’s face with a make-up wipe so the liner he wears won’t irritate in the morning, throws him a spare shirt and strips himself down to his underwear, tossing it all in a semi-messy pile near the laundry bin.
“‘Mma text Nai.” Vash mumbles, narrowly missing Nick’s head with his own shirt, wiggling into the oversized v-neck of Nick’s and squinting against the light of his phone. “Maybe he’ll take Legato home-” A giggle-snort, tongue caught between his lips with concentration before the phone is tossed to the bedside table and Vash makes demanding grabby hands for Nick, who’d simply been watching with fondness.
He goes easily, slotting into the blonds arms like they do this every night, legs tangled together and grumbling about Vash’s cold feet. The prosthetic pokes his shoulder and there’s a 5 second argument before they wiggle the metal limb off, placed gently by the side of the bed and they can cuddle properly, Nick rubbing and massaging a warm hand into the stump left behind in the way he knows Vash appreciates as sleep creeps up on them both.
“...Had a good birthday, angel?” Nick can help but whisper when Vash looks just about ready to pass out, getting a sleepy smile.
“Best. ‘Love you, Nico.”
“I love you too, Vash. Sleep tight.”