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Wolfwood doesn’t actually know much about Vash the Stampede before he meets the man.
None of the Gung-ho Guns seem to really know much about him either, not that any of them particularly even cared to. They know enough to torment him, and Wolfwood supposes that’s all that Knives wants.
And to Wolfwood, it’s just another job. Another name on a list, another order to follow. Another way to protect his kids. It’s nothing personal, it hardly ever is, and Wolfwood doesn’t expect much of anything to come out of it. He’ll find Vash, gain his trust, and he’ll keep Knives happy. Nothing too damn complicated.
Vash makes it complicated. Immediately.
It’s been less than a day and he’s already working away at Wolfwood’s mask.
I can see it in his eyes.
He feels something writhing in his gut still, like Vash was forcefully trying to burrow his way under his skin. There had been sincerity in his smile, something soft in his eyes. Wolfwood had noticed the way it was different from his usual grin, that resting face of his that came to him as a natural front rather than genuine happiness.
He had smiled at Wolfwood and something in his chest had felt like it shifted.
Fucking dumbass.
His hand had been bony in his, his gloves soft and his face still so achingly open. He had introduced himself, like Wolfwood wasn’t incredibly aware of exactly who Vash the Stampede is.
He didn’t know what he expected, but it wasn’t this tall, skinny thing with kind, sloped eyes. A clear blue like a shining pool of water, a gentle tilt to his mouth that smooths out his entire face, makes him look young. There’s no chance he’s made it this far with how naive he seems to be, but even still—it’s not an act, not exactly.
There’s something entirely open about him, so ridiculously easy to read, but there’s something still so indescribable about him. You don’t get that kind of sincerity anymore, don’t see people who smile like that. With care, kindness, with something sparking and lighting in their eyes.
Wolfwood needs another cigarette.
He flicks the one he stole from Roberto to the ground, turning to look behind him. Vash is lounged back on top of the van, looking up at the sky. Wolfwood chews on his lip, thinks fuck it, and leaves the campfire to climb up there with him.
He jumps slightly when Wolfwood plops down next to him, but a smile slips onto his face quickly. It’s a damn close fit, Vash laying across the top and Wolfwood’s legs crossed as he sits next to him. Vash’s elbow brushes his hip, and in the cold night air he feels warm.
“Come to watch some more?” His eyes flicker back up to the worms in the sky, floating and glowing that fluorescent green, “You don’t get to see so much of them usually. They’re beautiful.”
Wolfwood looks over at him, eyes roving over the slope of his nose and the fan of his long lashes. “Yeah, they are.” He murmurs, resisting the urge to turn away when Vash’s baby blues land on him again.
“Thank you. For staying and helping.” He’s still smiling, hands behind his head and the corner of his eyes crinkled just slightly.
Wolfwood scoffs, turning away from him. He guesses he didn’t have to stay with Vash, if he really was annoyed enough by the idea. Zazie would have released Vash alive either way because that’s what Knives wanted, even if he acquired a few new scrapes or bruises. Wolfwood could have stood back and watched, he supposed.
But he hadn't wanted to. He tells himself it was to gain Vash’s trust just a little bit more. Nothing else.
“It was nothing, Needle-noggin. It was either that or letting you get yourself killed.”
Vash’s brows pinch just slightly, mouth twitching, “I thought you said the only precious life was your own?” There’s something teasing in his tone, but not judgemental or malicious. Like he knew something that Wolfwood didn’t and he was waiting for Wolfwood to realize it too.
Wolfwood’s mouth parts, hands instinctively shifting to grab another cigarette before he remembers he doesn’t have any left. He sighs, “Guess you’re just real special then, huh?” He drawls, pretending like his heart isn’t racing, pretending like it isn’t true.
He’s here to babysit a glorified idiot, nothing more, nothing less. No matter how much he’s come to be surprised already. His personal feelings certainly don’t matter right now. He repeats it over the strange thump in his chest.
Vash laughs, eyes returning to the lights in the sky once more. They reflect in his irises, like glittering lakes. “I’m still grateful you saved my friends.” His teeth dig into his bottom lip, a peak of canines that look unusually sharp. “They’ve been through a lot recently.” He says quietly, low and aching with something Wolfwood recognizes in someone who is grieving.
“I don’t think they’re as fragile as you think they are.” He says, and he can feel Vash’s eyes on him as he stares at the sky, “Shortie is spunky. A bit naive, but she’s tough. Your drunkard friend has a good head on his shoulders. He’s smart enough for the both of you, considering.” He smiles, sharp and lopsided as he looks down at Vash again, “I hardly think they’re traveling with you without knowing the dangers of it.”
Vash’s lips press together, gaze darting away. “I—I guess they do. But I still don’t want them to get hurt because of me. They have jobs, lives to return to. Families and friends.”
“And you don’t?” Wolfwood thinks he knows the answer, but it slips past his teeth anyway.
Vash’s lips curl, a smile so tragically fake and sad it makes Wolfwood’s gut roil, “No, none of that. I’m just a drifter, really. I’ll be out of their hair soon enough.”
Wolfwood looks down, Roberto and Meryl curled up in their sleeping bags around the fire. These people care about Vash, that much is obvious. He’s not entirely sure how long they’ve known him, but he feels like that doesn’t even matter. Vash seems like an easy man to care about, to want to look after.
He remembers Meryl’s excited face when she saw that he had started eating, that little protective spark in her gaze. She likes him, he can tell. He thinks of Roberto’s suspicion, of how he had stayed firmly at Vash’s side most of the time they had been in the sand worm. Like he was entirely willing to stand between Wolfwood and Vash if it came down to it.
Vash has these people who seem to care about him a lot, and he barely seems like he can even see it. Like he doesn’t think he deserves it.
“They care about you.” He says plainly, unsure of why as soon as it leaves his lips.
Vash laughs softly, like he finds the thought amusing. “They need me for their story.”
“You really believe it’s just that?” He snorts, “You’re even more oblivious than I thought you were.” He doesn’t know why he wants Vash to realize that, but he does.
Vash makes an indignant noise, frowning up at Wolfwood with those big, bright eyes.
“These idiots like you. Don’t waste it.” He says quietly, and he feels like a fucking asshole.
He doesn’t actually like hurting good people, no matter what Zazie and the others taunt him with. He does his job, but that doesn’t mean he always likes it. There are lines he won’t cross, and usually that means no dead children. And he’ll spare the innocent when he can. He’s not cruel.
He feels cruel, right now. Like rubbing salt into a wound that hasn’t even opened, but god does he know that it’s coming. This likely ends in Vash being dead, will likely start with one or both of his little friends dying. And Vash doesn’t have a damn clue.
Wolfwood’s fingers tremble just slightly and he clenches them into his palms.
He looks at Vash and he’s smiling, eyes slightly bleary from exhaustion, but his face is soft and open. Pretty, he thinks wildly.
Fuck, he really needs that cigarette.
“I guess you’re right.” Vash admits quietly, and his head tilts back as his eyes slowly slip closed. “Knew I saw something in your eyes.” His smile has a bit more teeth now, and Wolfwood is hyper aware of the parts where they’re forced to touch in the tiny space.
“Fuck off and go to sleep.”
Vash laughs and Wolfwood allows himself a small huff, even as his chest feels too stuffed full with something.
“Good night, Wolfwood.” He hums, eye peeking open at him for just a moment before it closes again.
Wolfwood slips off the roof and pretends like he’s not thinking about the clear cerulean of Vash’s eyes.
He steals five cigarettes out of the pack of smokes Roberto leaves next to his sleeping bag.