Chapter Text
Wolfwood looks at the plants unfurling in their bulbs and thinks: they look like Vash.
It tempers a little of the fear, the way he feels like he shouldn’t be seeing so many limbs. Vash may be strange and alien, but he’s also kind and good, and the plants in front of him look like Vash. Especially when they smile out at him, the glow of their eyes softening, warm.
Vash is lighter near them, practically glowing himself. He holds out his hand to Wolfwood, and when he gives it, Vash guides him to press his palm to the glass. The plant inside flattens her hand on the other side, and Wolfwood hears (feels?)… something . It reminds him of a dream. He looks to Vash, and Vash grins.
“They’re saying hello.”
“Hi,” Wolfwood says, holding up his other hand to mirror the plant. She bobs closer until her forehead is against the glass, her expression expectant. He glances at Vash again, and now he looks unsure.
“She wants to talk to you,” he says. “I’m not sure it’ll work the same as it does with me, but it won’t hurt you—either of you.”
“So I just—?” Wolfwood tilts forward a little. Vash nods. Wolfwood meets the plant’s patient eyes and takes a breath. “Okay. Here goes nothin’.”
And it is nothing, at first. The glass is warm on his skin, from either the sun or the plant or both. He’s grateful for the little bit of breeze as he stands here in one of Livio’s black shirts. He wonders what the breeze feels like.
He jerks back.
“Wolfwood?” Vash says, catching his arm.
“I—” Wolfwood looks at the plant, who looks back at him, her eyes gone sad. He feels her disappointment. He feels it? “It surprised me. It’s like someone else was thinking in my head.”
“Oh,” Vash says, wide-eyed. He almost looks excited, but then it’s quashed under something more neutral. “I should’ve warned you, that’s how it feels, I just—didn’t think it would work! Wow.”
“ Why did it work?” Wolfwood asks before he can think better of it.
“Well,” Vash says. He puts a hand on the bulb, thoughtful. “She’s the one who brought you back. They all helped, it was too much for one of them alone, but she kickstarted it. So there must still be a connection.”
“You have no idea what you’re talking about,” Wolfwood says.
Vash scoffs, offended. “I have an inkling of an idea,” he says. He looks at Wolfwood with an echo of the plant’s sadness. “She didn’t mean to scare you.”
“I know,” Wolfwood says. “I’m not scared . But it goes both ways? I hear her and she hears me?”
Vash nods.
“What if I think something really embarrassing?” Wolfwood asks.
Vash sighs. “Then they’ll all remember forever.” He winces at his sister, both genuine and playful. “And laugh. But they know you, so it’s okay. I’m sure I have a lot more embarrassing moments than you anyway.”
“I hope so,” Wolfwood says, dodging the pinch Vash aims at his back. He meets the plant’s eyes again. “I don’t think I can do it.”
“That’s okay,” Vash says immediately. The plant looks at him and then nods at Wolfwood, her smile returning. Wolfwood hates that he disappointed her and Vash by extension. Vash curls a hand at the back of his neck and tugs him closer so he can kiss the side of his head. “It’s really okay. I understand.”
And Wolfwood imagines he does. Of all the people that carry secrets, Vash might have the most of them. He feels bad anyway.
“I’m sorry,” he tells the plant, arms crossed over his chest. Defensive. Scared. Vash kisses him again, almost absently, as if it’s a matter of proximity. Wolfwood detaches himself, unfurling enough to press a hand to Vash’s back. “Don’t let me ruin your visit. I’ll wait for you in the shade.”
“Okay,” Vash says, letting him go.
Wolfwood waits and watches. A couple other people venture over to say hello, not lingering nearly as long as Vash, who spends time with each of the plants, silent but smiling. He’s growing out his hair again and left his coat packed away, though he’s found a different red jacket to alternate it with. He could be anybody. Somebody that’s just happy to see the plants thriving and happy themselves.
Vash finally turns away from the bulbs, spotting his place leaning against one of the surrounding buildings instantly. He waves, over the top and ridiculous, until Wolfwood gives in and smiles. Vash meets him with a grin.
“Lunch?” he says, hopeful in the way that suggests Wolfwood will be paying. “There’s a place here that makes really good noodles.”
Wolfwood straightens, slinging an arm over Vash’s shoulders as they head for the street. “Say no more,” he says.
He thinks about the plant while they eat. He’s grateful to her, to all of them. Without them, he wouldn’t be sitting across from Vash, who in over a century still hasn’t learned not to talk with his mouth full (not that Wolfwood is much better), listening to a story he can’t determine the veracity of. A lot of Vash’s stories are like that. Wolfwood wouldn’t know just how many without the plants, either.
Maybe one day, his secrets won’t feel so much like bleeding wounds and he can thank them properly without making a mess. But for now, he tells Vash he’s full of shit and laughs when his outrage makes him choke.