Chapter Text
The first thing Vash felt upon waking was pain. This wasn’t anything new, he always woke up in pain, but now it was a sensitive, clawed-at feeling instead of the usual bone ache. His skin felt sand blasted and raw, full-body-bruised like he’d been hit by a car. Blearily, he tried to get stock of his surroundings. Bright light filtered through his eyelids, so it was much later than he should have woken up. It was…uh…11:23. Yikes. Yikes to the late hour, and to how long it had taken him to figure that out. He was dehydrated and hungry. Whatever he was draped over was shifting a little…oh.
Oh.
It was Wolfwood.
Vash’s brain started to kick awake like an ornery old motor. Wolfwood was half propped up under Vash, who had partly crawled over him in the night, one leg slung across his hips, hugging him close with his left arm. His cheek was on his chest, right above his heart. The slow and steady rhythm of its beat did something funny to Vash’s soupy head. Up close, the smell of his cigarettes was even stronger, mixed with dried sweat. It was probably unpleasant, in some objective way, but it was Wolfwood. Real and solid. A warm, steady hand was stroking through Vash’s hair, gently tracing lines over his scalp.
Hm.
Vash had been right. It was nice.
His hip was on fire, though, and his tongue felt shriveled and furry. The light of the suns was starting to give him a headache, and no matter how badly he wanted to, it was unfair to keep Wolfwood squashed under him. Vash opened his eyes. The gorge came into focus. It looked different in the daylight; smaller and less overwhelming. Or maybe that was just Vash.
Grunting, he lifted his head. He’d drooled in his sleep-yet another thing to apologize for-so Wolfwood’s white cotton shirt stuck to his face. One of the carved wormshell buttons dug into his cheek.
“Mornin’, sunshine. How’re you feelin’?” Wolfwood asked, resting his hand in Vash’s hair. His perfect bow lips were parted in a smile, but that didn’t disguise how haggard he looked. Dark shadows like bruises made his eyes sunken and exhausted. A pallor clung to his face, and the fine lines around his eyes and between his brows were carved a little deeper. He looked just as beaten up as Vash felt.
Vash peeled the shirt off. “Gross,” he croaked. The base of his spine clicked as he moved his head. “Sorry.” He tried to roll away and stop smothering Wolfwood.
Wolfwood huffed and used the hand already on Vash’s head to push him back down. “Stop fucking apologizing. Christ. It’s like, like you think you’ve gotta be responsible for everything all the time. Annoys the hell outta me.” His voice was gravelly and thin.
“Sorry.”
This apology earned Vash a small, sad smile. Wolfwood started petting his hair again, which felt so relaxing and fantastic that it turned all of his objections to dust. He tried to think of why he shouldn’t stay here, but all his reasons had blown away. Even the pain was bearable if it meant being held like this. Pressed up close, he felt Wolfwood tremble, just a bit. His broad, solid body shivered with fatigue. Vash had a better view of his face now. He was partially propped up on his folded blanket, which he must have taken off earlier in the morning when it had gotten hot. Gaze fixed on some impossible point in the distance. He did this sometimes (often), he went away in his head and let his body do the work for him. Vash pretended not to notice because if there was one thing Wolfwood truly despised, it was having his vulnerabilities pointed out. Right now, all of this was automatic. Holding Vash so gently was something that Wolfwood’s body was doing for him, part of some older subroutine that he called on.
That wasn’t fair. That was not fair! If Vash had any energy at all, the thought would have been a shout. Wolfwood had been through hell, too, and he still wasn’t resting. Vash knew how much Wolfwood did for him all the time. It was impossible not to, but he didn’t say anything. If he did, Wolfwood would brush him off and deny it. He tried to help in small and unobtrusive ways, but this was too much to let lie. No. Enough.
Vash reached over and patted Wolfwood’s bicep. This brought him back from wherever he’d been wandering. “Y’need something, needle-noggin?” There it was again! He was forcing himself to be on and be responsible. A blurry half-memory of big brother Nico taking care of everyone rolled through Vash’s head.
Fuck that. He didn’t want a brother. He wanted Wolfwood.
“I don’t need…you need. Rest.” Every word had to be dragged out of the quicksand of his brain. “‘M okay. Take care…of you.” He was making as much eye contact as he could in the hope that his meaning would get beamed into Wolfwood’s eyeballs. Since he still couldn’t move his face, he wasn’t sure how effective it was.
The big brother Nico mask slipped off for a moment and he seemed confused and…scared? Vash had a lot of experience with humans, but there was infinite variation in what their faces could do. The look lasted for only a moment before the mask was back on. “I’m fine.”
He was deflecting. This would not work on Vash, master of deflection. “Bu’shit.”
Wolfwood screwed up his face. “I am resting. How’s this not resting?”
Vash stared at him. He had a good staring face and all the time in the world. The only effort he made was a long, heavy sigh.
“I’m not the one who went through hell last night, Spikey.” He was starting to squirm in discomfort. “What, so I’m supposed to make you pamper me?” False sarcasm gathered around him like armor. If this was a joke, then it wouldn’t be as scary, as serious. It wouldn’t mean that Vash actually cared about him, or that he needed the help.
Vash grunted in affirmation. “...s’what…you’re doin’.” Each word needed a big lungful of air. “Rough for you…you helped…me. Still hard…for you.” Keeping very deliberate eye contact, Vash ran his hand over Wolfwood’s arm slow, steady. Wolfwood went still like he was expecting a fight, eyes wide. Then he broke, looking away. There was a light blush on his cheeks.
Cute.
-.
Oh no.
Grumbling ill-contentedly under his breath, Wolfwood resigned himself to his fate. At least he was here, annoyed and embarrassed instead of roaming impossibly distant hallways in his mind. In retaliation he started to scritch roughly at Vash’s scalp, which only made him shuffle his right arm under Wolfwood’s shoulder into a hug.
“Are we seriously having a cuddle fight?”
“M.”
“What are we, five?”
“You’re 5.” 516; rum toffee and canele and ash .
The chuckle was deep and echoed in his chest, right next to his heart. That sound melted Vash even more. He was too wrung out to laugh along, so he squeezed Wolfwood’s shoulder instead. Tried to use the contact to say “I’m here, I’ve got you, too.” Between the heat of the suns and the closeness of his friend, he was at peace. They dozed together, content. He floated on the surface of consciousness, almost falling asleep. They had never been this close before unless survival made it necessary. Sure, they’d shield each other in a fight or press close to hide from pursuers. And sure, they’d roughhouse on occasion; grab and poke and slap playfully like a couple of kids. But they kept their distance otherwise. It was probably for the best, since Vash found himself wanting to be held forever. He hadn’t noticed a bassy rumble start up in his chest.
“Uhh, needle-noggin?”
“M?”
“Are you, uh, I mean, is that a good noise?” Wolfwood’s voice was a little strained. His eyebrows were making a valiant effort to escape off his face.
Perfect. Yet more freaky Plant shit to make Wolfwood deal with. Plus, he hadn’t made this sound in actual decades, and to do it while…latched onto his friend was too much. “Sorry.” He tried to get up again.
A finger poked the middle of his forehead. “The hell does ‘sorry’ have to do with what I asked?” Wolfwood’s mouth was twisted up into an exasperated scowl, probably to try to hide the flustered blush working up his neck. At this angle, the sunlight caught in his eyes. They glowed a dark, warm brown, framed by long eyelashes.
Vash wasn’t supposed to look at him like this. He was too tired to force himself to stop anymore.
He swallowed, mouth still dried out. “Water?”
A deep, deep sigh. “No. Answer first.” Wolfwood leaned in closer, wearing a flat, dead-eyed expression that was probably supposed to match the one on Vash’s face.
It took a few seconds to get the right words together. “Good noise. Comfy.” He sighed. “Sorry.” His affect was still flat, but he could feel a flush rising in his cheeks.
“Not painful?”
“No.”
Wolfwood sandwiched Vash’s head in his elbow, trapping him as he scrabbled behind him for a canteen. Vash made an “urk!” sound and slapped at him reflexively. Wolfwood released him and handed over the canteen. “Then what’s the problem? God forbid you let yourself relax.” Vash swished some water in his mouth and felt much better. Some of the dust cleared from his head.
“Sor-” Wolfwood cut him off with a warning sound. “Thanks.” He passed the water over.
Wolfwood took a swig before asking, “Besides, isn’t it my turn to get babied? Maybe I want to snuggle up with a big ol’ kitty cat.” Vash poked him in the armpit, and he jerked, snorting, “Okay, loud n clear Mr. The Stampede.” Vash poked him again, at a loss to express his displeasure any other way. “Okay, okay! I got it, lay off, willya?” Vash huffed before he heard a growl from Wolfwood’s stomach.
“Eat.” He pushed himself up slowly (third time’s the charm), feeling everything burn together. His joints and scars hurt, as usual, but everything was compounded by raw skin, shaking muscles, and insides that had absolutely been on the outside just a few hours prior. His vision got blurry as his arms shook from the effort of moving, but he pulled himself off Wolfwood anyways. He’d felt worse.
As he rose to stand, though, he felt a pop and a burst of agony as his poor hip finally gave up and dislocated. Unsteady, he balanced on one leg and tried to come up with a plan for getting back on the ground.
Instantly, Wolfwood was at his shoulder. “Woah, hey, you good?”
“Ow.” The burning pain seemed to give him use of his face again. He scrunched his mouth into a grimace. “Help.” He grabbed for his friend’s shoulder to steady himself. “Ground. Please. Ow ow ow ow.” Wolfwood’s strong arms guided him back down nice and slow. He hissed as he sat down, the sense of wrongness and out-of-placeness just as overwhelming as the pain. Putting it back would suck, as it always did. Sharp rocks poked against his legs, creating a gritty, nasty feeling that he wanted to writhe away from.
Crouched next to him, Wolfwood was assessing the situation. Damn it all, despite Vash’s efforts, he was still taking care of him. This would probably be easier if he stopped falling apart every five minutes.
“What happened?” He’d backed off a little, but was checking Vash all over for visible injuries. All of his own feelings were stowed away, and his training had taken over.
Through gritted teeth Vash said “Hip’s dislocated. I got it.” One useful side effect of the pain was sharpening him back up and forcing words out of him. His brain felt itchy. Waving him off, Vash reached down to grab his thigh. Wolfwood’s hands covered his own. Vash looked up, scowling mostly from the pain, but partly from the unexpected contact.
“I’ve got it.”
“Let me help.” Something worn raw and thin showed in the set of Wolfwood’s mouth. “Damn, Spikey, you don’t gotta do this alone. But I’ll back off if that’s what you really want.”
Getting a little lightheaded from the pain, Vash nodded curtly. Deep breath. Together, they rotated his leg to set the joint back in place. Vash threw his head to his chest and bit halfway through his bottom lip as he stifled a cry.
“All fixed up, I got you, I got you.” Wolfwood murmured, hand running over his burning leg. He looked so tired.
Unfair! Unfair! Why couldn’t Vash stop being such a wreck? He took a deep, shaking breath in and licked the blood off his mouth. “Thanks. Uhm, you hungry?”
A soft laugh. “Yeah. Sure, I guess. But the stove ran out of gas in the night, so everythin’s gonna be cold.” Wolfwood rose to get his bag. Vash didn’t try to follow. The last thing he needed was to strain his hip even further. From his new position, Vash saw Angelina II and the Punisher where Wolfwood had left them the night before. The bike didn’t seem too badly damaged, but the tires were worn down, and it listed to one side. A blown shock, probably. The Punisher sat behind the driver’s seat. Wolfwood’s protector, undeniably even more than Vash was, so he had no grounds to resent its presence. Still, it had an ugly weight that drew attention to it, wrapped or not. Over every hour of every long drive, Vash felt the back of his skull prickle. In every hotel room and in the corner of every restaurant, it loomed over them. Ill-omen, Vash thought. If it hadn’t kept Wolfwood alive for so long, he would have torn it apart with his bare hands.
They munched on some cornbread and cured tomas meat from Rocille, and passed their meager water ration back and forth. The food cleared Vash’s head even more, and he sifted through the previous day’s events. His head swam a little from the melange of memories they had shared. It was odd, like a story he’d been told and half forgotten, or a conversation he’d overheard two rooms over. The details were already mostly gone, and in their place were ideas and emotions. Untethered to their memories of origin, they threatened to overwhelm him. Vash tried to distract himself by moving further back, to earlier in the day. He figured he deserved a break from the horrors, just for a moment.
Unfortunately, he remembered what had triggered his…episode in the first place. The little dead town. Their argument, and Vash’s meltdown after he’d accidentally admitted to not being human.
A few feet from him, Wolfwood sat and smoked in easy silence. He seemed a little distant again, but at least he wasn’t forcing himself to play the caretaker.
Who takes care of you, Vash wondered. Would you even let anyone, or are you too proud? Too many years of facing the world alone.
I’d face it with you, if you’d let me.
Clearing his throat, he said “Gotta say something. It’s important.”
“Okay.” Wolfwood shifted around to face him directly. “Quick question, first. You’ve been having some trouble talkin’ this mornin’. Is it something to do with your, y’know…” he gestured vaguely in the air before trailing off.
Vash shook his head. “Nah. Got no juice for words,” he said and tried to smile. Between the effort it took and the crusted blood on his mouth, it was probably a pretty horrible sight.
“And you were giving me grief for calling it that.” Wolfwood knocked another cigarette out of the box and lit it with relish. “Will you get your juice back?”
“Yeah. But, listen,” Vash needed to tell him. “Gotta say something. Talking’s still hard. Please don’t interrupt?” He massaged his hip gingerly, hoping that nothing had been torn.
A nod of assent.
Deep breath. “I’m sorry.” He held up a hand as Wolfwood opened his mouth to object. Only when he had closed it again did Vash continue. “The fight. I said I was judging you. That you only choose violence, that you hurt for no reason.” He had to pause for a moment to catch his breath. Each word felt like a lead weight he had to pull from his mouth. “I didn’t mean that. Don’t think that.” He averted his eyes in shame. “Was just trying to hurt. I was being cruel on purpose.” It was lucky, in a way, that he had cried himself out last night. “You’re a good man. I’m sorry.” Beneath his hands were tiny stones that his psychedelic Plant vision had identified as ancient fossil fragments. In the daytime they just looked like rocks.
For a long, long moment Wolfwood was still, face betraying no emotion. “I’m sorry, too. I wasn’t exactly being a saint, either. Said some things I regret.” Vash dug his fingers into the meat of his thigh. “I…I don’t have the best temper, and I let it get away from me. Part of being human, I guess.”
Vash leveled his best deadpan at Wolfwood. The priest flashed him a wink and a grin. “Well, looks like getting pissy is something we’ve all got in common. Who’da thought.”
“I’m serious. I’m sorry.” He wasn’t going to let this go so easily.
“Yeah yeah Spikey, apology accepted.” Wolfwood settled down, elbows on his crossed legs. His nice new suit had a fine coating of reddish dust that made him look rusty. Like some worn out machine that had been overused and underloved. Actually, it made him look like his bike. A little beaten up, a little scruffy, but undeniably cool. Vash couldn’t help smiling.
“I was getting kinda worried that you’d forgotten how to smile, needle-noggin.” He pulled out his black sunglasses from his coat pocket and slid them over his eyes.
Vash crossed his arms over his chest in a half-hug. “Still calling me that after everything?”
“‘Course, you’ll always be my needle-noggin.”
Oh, that’s not fair, Vash thought. It’s not fair to call me “yours” like that. How am I supposed to pull away from you when you say things like that? Don’t you know how hard it is already? And now all that effort is wasted, because I’m too tired to look away.
But all he said was “Okay.”
The bedrolls were a mess that Wolfwood insisted on seeing to. Apparently, Vash was “a goddamn furnace, and you can quote me on that,” so he’d made a pile off to the side to avoid being baked alive. But now that they were both up, Wolfwood set to tidying in that same infuriatingly automatic way that Vash couldn’t do a thing about. He tried to will his leg better. As if that had ever worked in a century and a half.
The one saving grace of the whole situation was that Wolfwood had apparently decided that since Vash was out of juice, he got to do all the talking for once. As he shook out the brightly patterned blankets he groused about how the endless nature of laundry was proof not only of God’s existence, but also His sadistic sense of humor. No matter where he went, there’d always be laundry to do. Some of his most formative memories were of laundry, did Vash know that? Yeah, he remembered being only this high-he put his hand to his knee-and haulin’ bags of washin’ back and forth when everyone else was runnin’ around. Hell, he’d gotten much more careful because he’d realized how tough it was to get stains out of everythin’. Not like he had much time for horsin’ around in the first place, since he was the big brother and had responsibilities.
“You were a kid, too, though,” Vash reminded him. He wasn’t sure where this was going, since Wolfwood talking about his childhood was almost as rare as rain.
He glanced up from where he was stowing the bedrolls. “Huh? I guess, but it’s different. And it’s not like I was worked to death, Ms. Melanie never would’ve let me.” He clicked his tongue in irritation as he assessed Angelina II.
What…what was happening? Usually, Wolfwood was either fully present or totally distant, but now…now he was managing both, somehow. He was talking and responding, but he still felt at a remove. Vash tested his leg and nearly growled in frustration when it wobbled dangerously. He wanted to go over and grab Wolfwood, to shake him and ask him where he was, beg him to come back. On the one hand, it was none of Vash’s business, and Wolfwood was always telling him to be less nosy. On the other hand, it was starting to scare him, and, hell, Vash only had one hand, so he could decide which one to pay attention to.
After stowing all of their camping gear, Wolfwood had gotten his toolbox and was examining Angelina II’s suspension. He hadn’t really stopped talking; going on about the proper parts needed, and how it was lucky that unlike some, he wasn’t a cheap bastard when it came to his gear.
Vash was so lost in thought that it took Wolfwood several tries to get his attention. “Hm?”
“I said, what’s with the face? You mad at me or somethin’?” Wolfwood was looking at Vash quizzically, having stopped his work on the bike.
“Sorry, I didn’t,” he began, and stopped. Was he mad? No, but he wasn’t happy, either. “Wolfwood?”
“Yeah, needle-noggin?”
“You okay?”
Wolfwood waved the question off. “Yeah, Spikey, I’m fine. You gotta stop worryin’, you’ll give yourself an ulcer. You wanna worry, worry about how bumpy our ride to the next town is gonna be with Angelina II in this state.” And he turned his back, dismissing him.
Deep breath one one two three five eight thirteen god damn motherfucker son of a bitch!
“Hey.” No response. Apparently, Wolfwood was done chatting.
“Hey, Wolfwood.” Still nothing.
Vash, chafed raw and pissed off, picked up a pebble and chucked it at Wolfwood’s head. “Nick.”
Tools clattered down as Wolfwood jumped. “Holy shit, what Spikey?! What the fuck do you want?” Actual anger showed in his face. Good. He was always here when he was angry.
“Well, first I want you to stop acting like you’re my big brother, and then never do it again,” Vash sniped. “I’m not a fan of brothers.” They had never talked about Knives, but they’d also never talked about Vash being a Plant, and that had all gone straight to hell, so why fucking bother?
Wolfwood rose, hands on hips. “The fuck do you mean, ‘acting like your big brother’?”
Vash threw another pebble at him. “I don’t know, Nico, maybe it’s you babying me and doing the laundry and fucking tidying like nothing happened!” Wolfwood smacked the pebble away and flipped him off. Vash returned the gesture. “Would it kill you to sit down? Really, actually kill you?”
“Jesus Christ, Spikey, you are so fucking annoying sometimes.” Wolfwood bent to pick up his tools. “First, do not throw shit at me. Got it?”
Yeah, that had been deeply shitty. Vash wanted to smack himself for not keeping his temper under control. “Got it. Sorry.”
“Second, and listen close ‘cause I don’t have to explain jack shit to you, but I will since you went through the wringer last night. I ain’t doin’ this for you. If I have to look at this mess any longer, I’m gonna pull my hair out.” He was taking deep, measured breaths through his nose, face pinched in irritation. “When you’re jumpy and stressed, you like to move, right? Well, I like to clean.” The toolbox rattled as he rearranged its contents. “Keeps me calm. Helps me feel in control of somethin'.” He closed it with a snap and put it to the side. “Third, I don’t know why it’s my fault that you don’t like what I’m doing. Not everybody does the fake smile thing, Spikey. If, if I’m not feelin’ one hundred percent, I’m not gonna pretend just to make you feel better.”
“I don’t want you to!”
Wolfwood threw up his hands in defeat. “Well what in God’s name do you want?”
Vash was exhausted and his filter was gone. “I want to take care of you for once!” He might as well have slapped Wolfwood across the face. The thunderhead scowl fell into a look of shock and he stepped back. He seemed ready to run, and Vash could not let that happen. “Last night…last night I made you go through something horrible, and -”
“You didn’t make me do shit.” Wolfwood cut him off, decisively. His arms were crossed, and his shoulders were bunched high around his ears. “I helped you because I chose to, got that? I fucked up my bike because I chose to, and I’m here listening to your bullshit because I chose to. Believe it or not, Spikey, there’s not a lot you’ve ever made me do.”
“Why?”
Wolfwood rubbed his hands over his face. “Madre de Dios. Why do you think?”
The bottom dropped out of Vash’s stomach and his mouth went dry. Instead of thoughts in his head, there was only a rush of static. He saw Wolfwood standing there, glasses pushed up into his thick black hair, staring at him with tired exasperation. Probably one of the only people on the whole planet who actually knew him. And stayed anyway.
Oh, Vash thought. No wonder I’m in love with him.
In answer to Wolfwood’s question, Vash began to tighten the straps on his undersuit. When he was confident that it would hold well enough he half-crawled, half-dragged himself over to his friend. The exasperation immediately switched to alarm. “Woah, what are you doing?”
“Choosing to help you.” Every motion sent a pulse of pain from his hip.
“Crazy-ass! You’re gonna make it worse.” Wolfwood went to shove him down, but Vash just used him as a crutch and continued his march to the bike.
He sat back down with a grunt and pulled out the toolkit. “I’m good with machines. Got to be, y’know?” He wiggled the fingers of his prosthetic at Wolfwood, who was staring at him like he’d lost his mind. “So I’m gonna help you fix Angelina II, but we’re staying here until you stop looking like death warmed over.” He set his lip into a stubborn pout as he worked on removing the sidecar.
“Damn, okay. You look like ass, too, by the way.”
Vash blew a raspberry at him from where he’d wormed himself under the bike. “I actually look so sexy all the time.”
“Is that a fact.” Fondness crept into Wolfwood’s voice.
Loose crud dislodged from some inner crevice of the bike and fell onto Vash’s face. “Yep. Super special alien powers. It’s my-pfft augh blech-my condolence prize for turning into a gross fish blob that can’t talk.” He worked his shoulder underneath him. “Hey, make sure this doesn’t squish me, okay?”
Angelina II rocked slightly as Wolfwood stood to grab it. “I didn’t think you were gross.”
“Huh?”
“I said, I didn’t think you were gross.”
“I grew so many extra bits. It was nasty. And…and you showed me that memory. I know it freaked you out.” Vash lodged himself fully under the bike and was checking for cracked axles. “I’m not bothered, it freaked me out, too.”
“Yeah but,” Wolfwood’s boots shuffled in place. “Okay, I was freaked out at first. But, that’s because I thought you were hurtin’ and I didn’t know what to do.”
“And I’m sure it had nothing to do with that big hole in Fifth Moon,” Vash quipped sarcastically.
A hand grabbed his ankle and yanked him out from under the bike. He yelped and spasmed as Wolfwood leaned into his face. “What did I tell you last night?” Vash made a startle-question noise. Their noses were almost touching and he was flat on his back. “I told you something, and I know you heard me, because I yelled it into that spiky noggin of yours. What did I say?”
Vash swallowed hard. “You said, uhm. You said that you weren’t leaving me.”
Determination burned bright in Wolfwood’s eyes. “Damn straight. It doesn’t matter to me what you look like, or what you are, because I’m not gonna leave.” His face softened into a smile. “The only thing that’s ever mattered is who you are, Vash, not what you are.”
It would be so easy to kiss him. Vash could feel his breath against his lips, and he’d only have to tilt his head up. He wanted to. More than he’d ever wanted anything, he wanted to kiss this brave, kind, beautiful man who knew him and refused to leave him.
It would be the most selfish and cruel thing he could possibly do.
Instead he knuckled at his eyes and breathed out a shaky “Thank you, Wolfwood,” hoping that the snarl of emotions in his chest made him harder to read.
Wolfwood got up and went back to holding the bike steady. Vash shimmied back underneath, chewing on his lip and wishing he weren’t so much to deal with.
“How’s she lookin’ under there?” Wolfwood had this charming, old-Earth habit of calling his bike “she”. Vash let himself find it cute.
“She’s a little worse for wear, but she’s tough. If we head to a town with a halfway decent mechanic, she’ll be good as new in no time. I can do a lot with what I have, honestly.” He was going to do everything he possibly could.
“Oh, praise Jesus,” Vash heard Wolfwood deflate in relief.
He worked in silence until he finished the bike, announcing her fit to travel, which had Wolfwood nearly keel over, clutching at his heart. By that time it was 5:29 in the afternoon, and they were both running out of steam. They got out a pack of cards and Vash pitched up against a rock. Talking about nothing much, they passed a few more hours simply.
“It’s gonna be cold without the stove,” Wolfwood noted.
Vash looked up from his royal flush. “Yep.”
Wolfwood smirked as he pushed his tiny stack of double pennies into the pot. “Well then, it sure is lucky that I’ve got the one and only Vash the Stampede to keep me warm through the long, cold night.” He wiggled his eyebrows suggestively.
Vash snorted. “Who says I will?”
“Aw, you’re just gonna let me freeze to death? After everythin’ I’ve done for you?” Wolfwood pulled an exaggerated face of misery.
A thought occurred to Vash, and he grinned mischievously. “Actually, Wolfwood, you’re right, I am going to keep you warm, do you know why?” He flicked a single double penny into the pot.
Wolfwood made a final mental calculation and laid out a full house. “No, tell me.”
“Because it’s your turn to sit your ass down and get babied and there’s nothing you can do about it! Ha!” With a flourish he slapped down his royal flush and bent over to scrape up his winnings. A rich treasure of 16 c-cents and the smug thrill of getting his way.
Across from him, Wolfwood was cupping his face in his palm, all crumpled in that funny look Vash had first seen on the airship. He still couldn’t place it. “You’re so fucking weird,” he said.
“I might be weird, but you’re the one who chose to stick with me, so what does that make you, preacher-man?” Apart from the best thing to ever happen to me, Vash thought.
Wolfwood sighed. “A fool, I guess.”
The temperature always plummeted right after sunset, so they wasted no time in getting out their bed rolls. Vash got himself situated and then waved Wolfwood over to his right side. “Here, come get comfy.”
He obliged, but made a face. “Great, I love huffing your pit stank.” Vash flicked his ear before wrapping his arm around his shoulders.
“Oh please, like you’re not also top contender for ‘rankest dude on No Man’s Land’. Besides, I have my reasons.”
Black hair brushed up against his cheek. “Oh yeah? Do they include suffocating me?”
“No, actually, they include having two working hips by tomorrow morning.” This shut Wolfwood up. “It wasn’t your fault, don’t worry. Part of why I get up so early is because laying down for too long tends to hurt, and that’s without, y’know…” he trailed off, still not sure how to talk about it.
“Changing like you did?” Wolfwood had settled in the crook of Vash’s arm. He’d changed into his pajamas, but Vash was not going to risk the cold.
“Aha, yeah. I thought that my joints were loose before, yeesh. I should be good like this, especially since it’s my good side.” Above them, the stars had come out in perfect splendor.
A soft snort blew across Vash’s chin as Wolfwood raised his head to give him an appraising once-over. “You mean this is the angle you get all’a your outlaw photos shot from? Can’t see how it’s much better than the other.”
Vash took a page from Wolfwood’s playbook and shoved his head back down. “No, dipshit, this is the side with an arm and without a metal grate on my tit. It’s not going to hurt if you press on it a little.”
He felt Wolfwood tense. “Oh shit, sorry, needle-noggin, I didn’t mean-”
“You’re fine, you’re fine, I’m teasing you. Now relax. This is supposed to be your relaxation time.” Vash did not have a lot of experience with this kind of comfort, but he was determined to try. He wasn’t going to hurt Wolfwood, and they had already been this close this morning, so he wasn’t crossing any boundaries, right? Was this too much? He just wanted to help.
They lay at awkward angles for a few minutes. More than enough time for Vash to second-guess this entire endeavor. But then Wolfwood spoke up.
“Hey, needle-noggin?”
“Yeah?”
“You know you don’t have to do this, right? You don’t,” he shifted self-consciously, “you don’t owe me anything. I wasn’t being nice to you to get something out of it later.” His voice was quiet.
Vash kept his gaze fixed on the sky. “I’m doing this because you’re my friend and I care about you. I’m sorry if I forced you into this, we can stop if you want.”
“Oh.” Wolfwood seemed to think for a long moment. “No, this is nice. Not used to the special treatment, I guess.”
You should be, Vash thought. You deserve it. His eyes flicked down to the dark head resting on his chest. Tentatively, he started to run his fingers through Wolfwood’s hair. This elicited a full body shiver strong enough to make him stop before Wolfwood grumpily told him to keep going.
After a short time, Vash heard Wolfwood’s breathing slow. Something burned in his chest. Vash wanted Wolfwood, was made raw and split open by wanting. More than that, he wanted Wolfwood safe. He wanted him safe and cared for, wanted him to have a future. So Vash would do everything in his power to give that to him. It wouldn’t be a future with them together, not with the life Vash led, but that had never been possible.
Vash leaned down and whispered, “I will care for you. I will keep you safe.” And he sealed his promise with a kiss to the crown of Wolfwood’s head. It would be the only kiss he would ever permit himself.