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"Stop. Stop, stop, stop. I said stop damn it!"
Finally managing to escape the stomping typhoon, Wolfwood curses under his breath, taking a moment to massage his battered feet with his ankles. “Shit dude, I didn't expect much but even saying that you have two left feet would be giving you too much credit!”
The other man jolts before slouching his shoulders, averting his gaze to a wooden panel beside Wolfwood’s right foot.
“Sorry…” Vash musters a defeated whimper.
Two men, hand in hand with Vash’s prosthetic arm resting gently on the preacher’s hip, stand at the center of a small worn down room of an inn. While it’s hard for any of them to recall a detailed account of how they got into this position, all that matters is that they were drinking, it came to light that (despite being a notorious woman chaser) the great stampede didn't even know how to dance, a wave of jabs were thrown from both sides, and now the servant of god was guiding a lost soul through the power of dance.
Once Wolfwood’s eyes returned to the wounded puppy in front of him, the man sighs in befuddled amusement, moving his wrinkled cigarette to the other side of his mouth.
“No no, it’s…” Wolfwood’s brows slightly furrow. ”...not your fault. I shouldn't have rushed you so much.”
Wolfwood straightens his back once more before letting out a quick sigh, “Alright. Let’s do this step by step.” He aligns his feet just a little off parallel to Vash’s. “You see how much distance there is between our feet? No matter in what way I move, make sure that when I stop, that distance should remain the same, got that you Needle Noggin? ”.
Vash timidly examines their feet, desperately trying to memorize the distance to the very millimeter. “Y-Yeah. I mean, I think so…”
“Alright, let's give this a test run.” Wolfwood quietly slides his left foot back and in return Vash restlessly follows, afraid of the distance becoming larger for even a moment, his leg slamming back down shaking the board beneath. Vash, troubled, glances at the man in front of him. He desperately searches every little detail on Wolfwood’s face for even the smallest sign of discontent, but the man’s expression remains still, his eyes locked on their feet below. Before long his ears pick up rubber carefully sliding across the floor once more, snapping him back to the task at hand.
The priest's right foot was now moving back while at the same time increasing the distance from where his left foot stood. The timid man follows once more, this time forcing his legs to relax as he attempts to replicate Wolfwood’s pace. And unlike last time, his trembling foot carefully steps down, sparing the creaking floorboards.
As the priest continues to move to the next step, Vash attentively follows, each step a little more adjusted than the last until the two men finally come to a stop, coming back to the same spot they started at.
“Well, heavens be damned.” The gruff voice finally utters, “Guess the humanoid typhoon is actually capable of improvement!” The corners of Wolfwood’s mouth curl as his eyes gaze back to Vash.
Vash, getting a sudden wave of both confidence and embarrassment, huffs in an exaggerated pout, puffing his chest out in a newly found bravado.
“Well yeah! I’ll have you know I'm a very fast learner! For Vash the Stampede, the great humanoid typhoon, there is not a single task that he cannot manage!”
“...Sure.”
Clearly, the priest was unmoved by the other man’s sorry performance.
“Why don't we pick up the pace a little, hm?”
“Pick up the pace?” Vash replies in a weary tone “Haha... Come on can't we just keep it at the same rate as before? Maybe…just for a little while longer? You can't actually expect me to know all of this after only one -”
“Didn't someone just say they were a fast learner?”
“I AM! SHUT UP!”
At this, any sign of objection vanishes. Vash’s determined emerald eyes fixed on their feet below ready for any attack his opponent might throw.
Wolfwood amused, lets out a chuckle. “Well, I know you don't need it, but how about I count out the tempo? Y’know, just for myself, so I won't get off track by your gracious luster of skill. So, may I have this dance?”
Vash, in an attempt to ignore Wolfwood’s further provocation, huffs through his nostrils and briefly gives Wolfwood an annoyed sideways glance.
“Thank You, kind sir.” Getting his answer, Wolfwood begins to move.
“1... 2... 3…”
The pace of movement was faster, Vash stumbling to keep up but still managing to follow.
“And 1... 2... 3…”
This pattern continues, with every cycle the area of movement growing and motions becoming evermore fluid and improvised, until eventually, if an outsider were to be unfortunate enough to see this sorry excuse for a dance, they’d be greeted by two stumbling drunks spinning around the entire surface area of the compact room. One of them in particular repeating the same numbers over and over again, as if desperately trying to remember what comes after. The booze finally hit its full effects.
But despite how silly it must have looked from a distance, whether it was due to the cool air which swirled around them through the open window, the hint of tobacco that tickled his nose, the priest's closed eyes revealing raven black lashes which glistened in the moonlight, or simply the booze, at some point, Vash forgot he was dancing at all. His senses faded out until the only thing he could feel was the warmth of Wolfwood's ruff yet delicate hands and the hip which was surprisingly thin given his overall muscular build. Eventually, even those sensations began to peter out, the priest's modal voice putting Vash in a dream-like state, entranced by the man swaying peacefully back and forth.
"1… 2... 3..."
"1…. 2…. 3…."
"1…. 2…….."
~-~-~
"Oh Meryl you're so silly~" Milly giggled as she saddled her barely conscious partner over her shoulder like a sack of potatoes.
"MaAaAAaAaa Put me dowwwnnnn!! I can walk on my owwwnnnn!!!!" Meryl kicks her feet as she sloppily attempts to break free.
"Well isn't this quite a sight?" Vash chuckles. "If I knew you were such a lightweight I would have had us order you kid's champagne instead!"
Meryl's snaps, gritting her teeth as she lands a deathly glare at the giggling fox. "DONT YOU THINK IM DONE WITH YOU… YOU BASTARD!! YOU GOOD FOR NOTHING- !!!!!! B-BROOM STICK LOOKING- !!!! GAH YOUR HAIR'S STUPID!!!!"
"Ok ok~ Let's go home Meryl~" Milly pats Meryl's hips in a cheerful tune before turning towards the boys with a big smile. "Have a safe trip back ok?"
"You too ladies." Wolfwood replies with a warm smile, his third cigarette of the night in his mouth as his other hand that's not holding the cross punisher searches for the lighter in his pocket.
"Night boys!~" Milly voices out, lightly skipping away with Meryl, whose glare was still fixed on Vash, bumbling an incoherent rainbow of insults ranging in pitch.
"Broom…stick?" Vash mumbles as he feels out his hair as if trying to figure out what the problem was before letting out exaggerated offended gasp. "Waaait the hell was that supposed to mean?! I do not look like a broom stick! Right Nick? Right? Right?!"
Vash whips his head to where his traveling companion stood for desperate reassurance. Locking eyes, the priest averts his gaze and starts turning towards the direction of the inn, but as he turns Vash catches Wolfwood's cheeks slightly puffing out in an attempt to suck in his faintly curled lips.
"Oi oi what’s that look for?! I'll have you know this hairstyle is very fashionable and very convenient for upkeep!" Vash exclaims in a whine as he stomps to catch up what he thought was his good friend.
"Hm? I don't know what you're talking about."
"I see that damn smirk on your face you idiot! Tch Then again I don't know what I expected from a person who made the conscious decision to have goofy side burns…" Vash grumbles as he flips his head away in a pout.
Wolfwood lets out a light laugh, "Oh wow, you mean there's a type of side burn that doesn't look goofy?"
Wolfwood fixes his cigarette, looking onto the street ahead. "And I never said I hated it, y’know."
The two men continued to walk side by side without uttering a single word. Around them, the sound of music, laughter, struggle, and the occasional sound of something breaking could be heard near and far. The suns have already set but a faint line of an orange gradient was still peeking out along the horizon, pushing against the ever heavying night sky above in attempts for the day to last just a little longer. But no matter how hard it tried, the cool glow of the moons along with the drastic drop in temperature was an indisputable declaration that the night had finally arrived.
Despite all the noise and being a little behind the Wolfwood, Vash could still hear the distinct sound of Wolfwood's cigarette slowly sizzling amidst the cool breeze which, every now and then, would pull back Wolfwood's white dress shirt collar, offering teasing glimpses of the nape of his neck.
Ah, there he is.
This was Vash’s favorite part. Of course the man loved the bustling environment of a packed saloon. He loved making banter with an ever aggravated Meryl and listening to Milly’s stories which were strangely a lot more philosophical than you would expect from someone of her jovial character. He loved buddying up with the other drunk compatriots and getting into the occasional brawl with a gun toting scallywag, bringing them down through the power of “Love and Peace!”. He loved all those things, but what he loved the most were these otherwise insignificant moments. Only after everyone bids their farewells, with the high of the night’s events starting to die down while still feeling a warm buzz, does Vash manage to get a glimpse of him. Only during these few minutes, in between the saloon and whatever stingy inn the two men managed to get a room in, is when Vash gets to see Nick. Not the Mr.“wearing sunglasses indoors”, jaded, logical and cynical preacher who’s quick to unleash his cross punisher if the situation even slightly called for it, but just Nick. With sharp yet gentle azurite eyes that had the habit to stare off somewhere beyond the horizon, and a faintly swaying demeanor which carried a solemn air to it. He was still the same forthright man in many respects, yet there was a clear sense of quiet melancholy that ran through his every action.
“Y’know, it's kind of funny.” Nick utters. “Even though this is the only life I’ve ever known, I still can't seem to get used to the sudden changes in temperature every day and night.”
“Oh! Haha yeah I guess so. Would be nice if we could get something in the middle for a change huh?” Vash laughs, scratching the back of his head.
That's right, they were on a desert planet after all. Sand is not good at retaining heat so without the help of plants and clouds, the environment can't retain proper humidity and heat retention, leading to deserts quickly cooling and heating up.
Plants and clouds.
Vash thought back to the days when Rem would take him and Knives out to the biome. Rem would always say that it was not even close to the real thing but Vash still remembers being mesmerized by the valleys of green that seemed to last for eternity, accompanied by the rustle of trees, bushes and the songs of fauna. How would Nick feel about such a sight? What type of expression would he make? What would he say?
While the answers to those questions were obvious, Nick most likely keeping his dead-pan expression and uttering some snide remark before turning his attention elsewhere, Vash still wanted to see it. He still wanted to be there as he looked at the view for the first time, to hold his hand as they traversed the soft grass looking for flowers, and lie side by side in a cool shadow of a giant oak, watching soft clouds float by. Maybe, after everything with Knives was finally over, just maybe, Vash could finally build the eve Rem always dreamed of. And maybe then, when that day finally comes, Nick could be there to complete its splendor.
“Mm, yeah, that would be a nice change of pace.”
With the clack of a rusted key and a little bit of force on the jammed door, the two finally returned to their chambers. Even though the room was not much, consisting of only one bed, a couch, coffee table and working desk which was placed on the opposite side of all the other furniture, for a night’s stay this was more than enough.
As Wolfwood put his cross punisher to the nearest wall and started placing whatever other little belongings he had.
“Haah I’m beat. Hey I’m feeling nice today so I’ll let you take a shower first.”
“A shower?”
Vash cocks his head and smells the collar of his crimson jacket.
“I don't smell that bad.”
Wolfwood’s brows furrowed in confusion. “I don’t care what you think you’ve been outside in the sun all day and I frankly don't want that festering stench in the room.”
Vash, blinking at Wolfwood for a moment, smiles and steps towards him with a hand pulling the front of his collar.
“Come smell me.”
Wolfwood steps back.
“What? No.”
Vash steps forward once more.
“So you know that I dont smell bad.”
Another step back.
“I'm not going to smell you, you drunkard.”
Another step forward.
“Come on, you're being too dramatic.”
Wolfwood's straw snaps with Vash now a foot away with a malicious grin. The priest grabs the buzzed fool by the collar and forcefully drags him to the bathroom. Shoving the man into the small room with a shove of a leg against Vash’s lower back before slamming the door.
“I SAID. GO. WASH.”
Vash, taking his shower of shame along with a newly sore tailbone, put on a (though questionable) fresh pair of pants and sat on the couch, mindlessly picking at his prosthetic arm. Before long he turns his head to the sound of a door opening and a washed up Wolfwood coming out, wearing a loose dress shirt and pants. He glances at Vash’s body for a second before quickly shifting his gaze elsewhere.
“Got the alcohol out of your system?”
“You didn't have to kick me like that y’know.” Vash mumbled.
“Hm.”
Wolfwood heads towards the working desk, sitting down to prepare for some cross punisher maintenance.
The room is silent, whatever sound that did exist coming from the half open window and Wolfwood’s tinkering. With his back facing Vash’s view, he reflects on Wolfwood’s glance.
Of course it wasn't the first time he saw them. Frankley given they often shared rooms with each other, it would have been impressive if Wolfwood hadn't seen his scars. But despite that Vash still felt a little uncomfortable about it. Although Wolfwood never really commented on it, the memory of his warped expression the first time he laid eyes on them was burned into his mind. Vash tried to ignore it, but the fact that later on it had become clear that Wolfwood would make an effort to avoid looking at him whenever he had his shirt off didn't help ease his anxiety.
Does he hate them that much?
“How far do we have to go till Tonim Town?” Vash breaks the silence, itching for a conversation.
“Few days maybe? But given your adventurous tangents it’ll be a miracle if we even manage to just travel 10 Iles in a day.”
Vash apologetically chuckles before the room goes quiet again.
Grasping his hands pensively for a while, Vash straightens his back, waving off whatever silly thoughts he had by putting on his classic cheery personality.
“Hey, so many times do you have to fix that punisher anyway? What are you working on?”
Vash approaches Wolfwood, laying a hand on the edge of the desk, peeking over Wolfwood’s shoulder.
“That’s none of your business, not that you'd understand any of it.” Wolfwood dismissively responds, continuing on repairing one of his guns.
“You know, I’ve been thinking, maybe instead of your bullets you could use sleeping pills or something like that, right? Gets the job done and you can still follow your whole “Thou shalt not kill” motto you know? You could even have some cool catch phrase like “Be ready to meet god..In your dreams!!” Hwa-pow! ”
Limbs going in all directions, Vash strikes a jagged pose. And with it put on an expression that, rather than menacing, was that of an angry frog more than anything else.
Wolfwood puts down his tools and stands up from his seat, lightly pushing the modern art display blocking him to get another gun from the punisher. “Yeah I don't think shooting pills at someone’s head will have the effect you think it does.”
With a nervous chuckle, Vash relaxes. “Hey now~ Maybe don't aim straight for the head right away…”
As Wolfwood passes him Vash catches his eyes glance at him.
There it is again.
Vash grabs Wolfwood’s wrist and in turn the man reflexively turns his head in surprise.
After what felt like a minute, Vash spoke out the words lodged in his throat. “Does my body really make you that uncomfortable?”
“What are you talking about?”
Wolfwood, confused, furrows a brow then looks away, trying to shake Vash’s hand off. But he maintains his grip.
“If you don't like it that much I can put on a shirt from now on.”
“I don't care what you do. Let go.”
“Then look at me.”
Wolfwood stood still for a moment before letting out an aggravated sigh, turning his head back to Vash. The preacher’s eyes now glaring directly into the typhoon’s.
“Happy? Now let go.”
Vash remains silent. The emeralds unwavering, Wolfwood eventually concedes, looking away.
“Stop being weird Needle Noggin, I have work to do.”
Vash’s grip tightens. “Nick. Please, talk to me.”
“There is nothing to talk about. Let go.”
“Look at me, please.”
“Vash. Just let go.”
“I want to help.”
“Let go.”
“Nick.”
“It's vile, ok?! Is that what you want me to say?!” Wolfwood swings his arm free.
“How can someone like you continue to spew shit about “Love and Peace” and keep putting others' needs before your own when -”
Recognizing his folly Wolfwood grips a hand to his face, leaning against the wall behind him.
“I just don't get it. I don't get you at all. Just how many times…”
Vash looks at the hand Wolfwood broke away from. “Sorry.”
“No, it's…I…” Wolfwood sighs. “Why can't I just...”
A floorboard creaks.
“Nick…”
Vash gently approaches the man. Feet now slightly off parallel, he reaches out his left hand and gently grazes the side of Wolfwood’s forearm that parallels his hip. Strange enough Wolfwood didn't pull his hand away, simply clutching his hand harder.
Through his palm Wolfwood gazed with resentment resentment at Vash’s chest. “I dont…I don't understand how…After everything. How are you able to just...”
“I’m ok, aren't I?” Vash puts on a sorry grin. “Sure I can get into some messy situations but who knows who I will end up helping out. It’s in my nature after all, it can't be helped.”
Wolfwood’s head flips up to Vash. “That’s exactly the problem! Don't you realize that?! When will you get that through your fucking skull?! If you keep acting like this you’ll end up…”
The priest’s usual gruff tone cracks, giving out to a whimper. “I will end up…”
Vash’s smile fades, pinching the cuff of Wolfwood’s dress shirt. “You're not going to hurt me, Nick.”
“You don't understand, I…”
Wolfwood grimaces, pinching the bridge of his nose as he feels a droplet escape his eye.
“Fuck.”
Wolfwood goes to wipe it but Vash stops him, delicately taking Wolfwood’s palm away. Despite Wolfwood’s attempts to lower his head and hide, Vash was already completely mesmerized by the man before him.
To think tears could be so beautiful.
“Well, heavens be damned.” Vash softly jokes, “Guess the priest is actually capable of crying.”
Wolfwood growls. “Shut up.”
Feeling the quiet trembling of Wolfwood’s palm in his, Vash lets go of the cuff and slowly brings his opposing hand to Wolfwood’s jaw line. Despite Wolfwood’s uneven stubble prickling Vash to the touch, it’s Wolfwood that flinches at the connection.
“Nick.” Vash hums, slowly lifting Wolfwood’s head.
Wolfwood keeps his heavy eyes away from Vash, carrying a weakly contorted grimace, but he doesn't push away.
Vash traces his thumb across Wolfwood’s cheek bone, catching a jewel rolling down his pores.
“Forget it.” Wolfwood puts the hand cupping his jawline, wrapping Vash’s wrist and giving it a light nudge.
“No matter how many times I try, It’s not like you’ll ever listen.”
Wolfwood closes his tired eyelids to compose himself, embarrassed at his childish outburst. However as he was about to open them again and move on, a warm pair of soft cushions pressed against his cheek making him jump.
“Va-!”
Vash moves his head away for a moment, partially opening his eyes before closing them again to peck at another tear.
“What the hell are you -!”
“It's ok.” Vash whispers.
At those words Wolfwood feels a knot tie up again in his throat, gripping Vash’s wrist tighter as his face morphs into a pained expression. Wolfwood could easily overpower him, all he had to do was remove his hand. But he doesn't.
“It's ok.”
Vash continues to reassure with every gentle kiss, catching every single one of Wolfwood's glistening jewels. And with every hum Wolfwood felt an array of unpleasant emotion well up until before he knew it, he no longer had control over the tears that began to flow with no end. Wolfwood’s mind grew hazy, losing any grip he had on his emotions. He was holding well for all this time, so why now? Why in front of him? Why was he the way he was? Why couldn't things have been different? Why couldn't he be like him? Why did they have to meet? Why, out of all people, it had to be him? Why -
“Vash, there's something I need to tell you. I...”
“Hush. You don't have to say anything at all.” Vash mumbles, kissing the corner of Wolfwood’s mouth.
“It will all be ok.”
They weren’t children. They both knew that was a lie. But that didn't matter anymore. Whatever Wolfwood had to say or do wouldn’t change anything. Same goes for Vash. So they were willing to pretend, for just this minute, this second, this moment, that it would really be alright.
With those final words, one hand still holding onto Wolfwood’s, Vash uncups Wolfwood’s jaw and slides the hand inside Wolfwood’s shirt and onto the priest’s waist, whose muscles contract in response. The typhoon’s tongue presses past the other man’s slightly chapped lips, and with a gasp from Wolfwood, goes through his teeth as well.
Even though Wolfwood had brushed his teeth, the taste of tobacco still made a presence on Vash’s tongue. But whether it was due to the cool air through the open window, the hint of cheap shampoo in the priest’s partially dried hair, or simply the booze, rather than being bitter, Vash could have sworn his mouth tasted of sugar glaze.
Wolfwood lets go. With a groan, Nick wraps his arms around Vash’s neck and eagerly grasps the hair at the back of the typhoon’s head, accepting his invitation to this sorry excuse for a dance.
~-~-~
The two men lay on the small creaky bed. Vash’s arms were wrapped around Nick’s waist, head resting near the man’s chest as Vash basked in the priest’s warmth. Neither were having anything going through their minds, simply listening to the quiet breeze that would occasionally pass through the window shades. As Vash lay there, he started to sense a steady beat of a heart beginning to fade into whatever remaining consciousness the dozing man could muster. Vash tightened his grip and nuzzled his face deep into Nick’s chest, trying to get a better sense of it.
“Hey…” Nick let out a growl. “Your hair is scratching my neck.”
But Nick’s protests fell on deaf ears, Vash was completely mesmerized. Using all the strength to memorize the heart’s rhythm, and with every beat he counted.
1… 2... 3...
1…. 2…. 3….
1…. 2……..
“I'm coming in!”
Vash lay in a small bed with a metal frame, his arms wrapped around the lower half of the pillow his head rested on. With a small groan Vash opens his one eyelid that wasn't obscured by the sheets to be greeted by a mirror and sink, a streak of sunlight inviting itself on to the worn beige wall through the adjacent window. With the click, the man’s eyes slowly trace a crack on the wall in front of him leading to the door. There, a short haired woman stands holding a tray which had what looked to be soup.
“Wakey wakey! Would be a shame if the Great Stampede overslept such fine cuisine, am I right?”
Vash stared at Meryl before turning over, pillow still in hand, to the other side of the bed. Burying his face into the pillow as deep as he could muster.
“All I wanted, was to dance in your pulse”
“Hm?” Meryl cocked her head with a curious expression. “Did you say something?”