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Nicholas catches Vash’s eyes as the body tumbles down from the overhang they’re on. Pure grief and anguish washes over the other man’s features. More gets communicated between them in that brief second of eye contact than any words ever could. It's a look Nick has seen plenty of other times but it never gets easier from one to the next. Instead, Nick looks away to watch the body tumble to the ground below them, secretly thankful that a headshot was an instant kill.
Vash scrambles down the overhang as quickly as his overgrown limbs could take him. Nick follows him at a slower pace, heaving the Punisher higher up his shoulder.
Nick doesn’t watch as Vash pleads with the already cooling body of the Gale. Eventually, Nick can’t take it anymore, it reminds him of other scenes that he rather not think about right now. He sees those enough in his nightmares. He calls for Vash to quit it, gaining himself three pairs of eyes on him. All of them come in the form of ire but the only gaze Nick cares to meet is Vash’s.
Vash staggers up from the floor and grabs Nick's collar. Wolfwood refuses to be cowed by the expression on Vash’s face as he whispers, “Why?” In a tone that's far more grief-stricken need-to-understand than accusatory anger.
Nick still isn’t able to meet Vash’s eyes when he answers despite all that. “Mercy.” Vash releases his collar as if it burned him. Nick can already imagine the face Vash is making–something akin to pity and horror– so Nick keeps his focus doggedly on a rock twenty yarz away. “He's a monster. It's impossible for him to regain his humanity.“
Vash breathes his name so quietly that there was no way the other two heard it above the gentle wind blowing up the sand. But Wolfwood’s hearing is better than most normal humans.
Nick felt his throat closing up so he turned on his heels and began stalking back towards the truck.
He returns with two shovels and tosses one to Vash. They work in silence to make a proper grave for the body and Roberto and Meryl respectfully leave them to it.
Before they get on the truck, Vash grabs him gently and pulls a small piece of glass from the collar of Nick’s shirt. Impossible to see unless one was looking for it. Neither of them talk about it.
The following drive has both Vash and Nick staring out opposite windows in solemn silence. As the hours drag on, Vash eventually begins engaging with Meryl and Roberto in idle conversations and Wolfwood relaxes a little. Soon, he ends up dozing off to the quiet chatter and the gentle hum of the vehicle’s motors.
The inn they end up at that night was shoddy but between the four of them they’re still only able to afford two rooms- if they wanted enough to charge the car and also get dinner. Roberto proposes for Meryl and Vash to room together, clearly leaving Wolfwood to be under Roberto’s watch.
Vash balks at the idea before Wolfwood even had a chance to finish processing the words and their underlying meaning. The man wedges himself between Roberto and Nick, waving his arms in a wild gesture that really did nothing other than be extremely distracting. The blue-green crystalline prosthetic arm was very eye-catching.
“N-Wolfwood and I have been sleeping in the car this entire time! We’re okay with the one bed. You two should take the room and get some proper rest!” Vash shoves the key to said room into Meryl’s hands. Nick internally agrees, as Meryl has been driving all day and well, Roberto's back would probably appreciate it. Not to mention, Nick wasn't entirely comfortable with the idea of waking up from a nightmare to the glare of the old man. Of course, Nick says none of this aloud and lets Vash do the talking. Vash states his piece and promptly drags Wolfwood into the room with the single double bed.
Vash sits down heavily in the armchair in the corner of the room, flopping limply like a puppet with its strings cut. Nick goes to sit on the stool next to Vash, the one next to the window.
Vash smacks his hands when Nick goes to pull out a smoke. “You shouldn’t even be smoking in the first place!” The man all but whines.
Wolfwood rolls his eyes and leaves his Cross Punisher in the room but keeps a pistol on his person and heads back out of the room to take a smoke instead.
He runs into Roberto outside at the entrance of the inn.
Roberto eyes him warily, which elicits far more amusement in Wolfwood that such blatant distrust normally should.
"He knows what you are," Roberto says between a puff of smoke. Wolfwood snorts.
“Of course he does,” Nick eventually responds. “But tell me anyway.”
It’s Roberto’s turn to snort as the older man turns away to look out at the street. “An idiot, clearly.”
“I could’ve told you that.”
“What kind of assassin falls in love with their mark within three days?” Roberto watches Wolfwood’s reaction from the corner of his eyes. Wolfwood gives nothing away—he merely turns to release a plume of smoke curling up into the night air. Nick stubs out his cigarette.
“Don’t tell me you’re grilling me and following Vash around just for the fun of it?” Nick fires back easily. He offers the other man a dry smile. “Please, he had you wrapped up with those sad blue eyes within four hours.”
Roberto huffs and backs off. After all, Nick isn’t wrong.
I, on the other hand, keep chasing his smile and shadow. Nick thinks to himself. He drops the stub of the cigarette into the trashcan nearby and heads back inside. And somehow caught them.
Roberto sits outside for two more minutes. Thinking.
He had expected Wolfwood to shut down or get defensive at the mention of being an assassin. Most people tend to bail when they’ve been exposed and blatantly called out like that. The undertaker (not a priest, apparently) didn’t react to it in the worm and he didn’t react just now.
He almost reacted…positively. As if he was pleased to know that his occupation was like a flashing neon sign like that green laser in that oversized cross-shaped gun of his. Not once did his body language suggest that he considered Roberto a threat during the conversation.
Weird kid.
Roberto still doesn’t trust him , though. He still doesn’t know what Wolfwood’s motives are.
When Wolfwood gets back to the hallway where their rooms are, he finds Meryl waiting out in the hallway for him. In her arms are a bundle of blankets and pillows. Wolfwood picks out a comforter in the pile. The woman dumps the pile unceremoniously into Wolfwood’s arms when he gets close enough.
“Ya makin’ me sleep on the floor, princess?”
“My name is Meryl Stryfe and yes, let Vash have the bed, please. He wasn’t eating until we ran into you. He clearly hasn't been taking care of himself. Let him rest, you hear me?” She punctuates her words with a sharp glare up at Wolfwood and a jab at his nose.
Wolfwood lets out a nervous chuckle and holds his hands up under the sheets in a placating motion despite the fact that Meryl can’t see them. It seems she understood anyway and swiftly retreated into her and Roberto’s room.
Wolfwood struggles with the door for a while, juggling the keys and bedding between his arms. Finally, he gets the door open and Vash perks up from where he’s sitting in the room. It looks like he was in the middle of cleaning his gun.
Nick dumps the extra sheets and pillows onto the bed. “Look it. More nestin’ material,'' He jokes.
Vash offers a tiny breathy laugh in response. He deftly reassembles his revolver and leaves it on the table to slide over and inspect the haul Nick brought in.
Nick catches a glimpse of the bruises forming on Vash's neck from the day's events.
Vash tugs the comforter loose from the tangled pile. “Banished to the floor.”
“Or so they want to think.”
Wolfwood turns to change out of his clothes-there was sand everywhere. He dusts himself off before pulling on some sweats and a loose fiber shirt. When he returns to the bed he finds that Vash has already settled himself in and had left half of the bed open for Nick.
Nick slides into the covers and Vash wraps his gangly limbs around the man like some kind of giant blonde blue-eyed parasite.
There’s a lot of things they could–should–talk about. They don’t.
Wolfwood wakes the next morning to an empty bed but a quick scan of the room tells him that Vash had merely just stepped out to grab food. The man’s red jacket is still hanging near the door, his bag is at the foot of the bed and his yellow wireframe shades are on the little table next to the bed. The most telling is that his gun still sits on the table where Vash left it the previous night.
Nick rolls back over to try and sleep some more, at least until Vash returns with food. His timing is impeccable because the moment he flips over the door slowly creaked open. He makes eye contact with Vash.
A donut is hanging out of the other man’s mouth and a bag cradled in his arm. He blinks at Nick like a child with his hand caught in the cookie jar or something.
“Mornin’,” Nick rumbles just to break the silence. Vash grins and finally moves out of the doorway and shuts the door behind him.
“Good morning, Nico!” The man chirps, much too chipper for this time of the morning for Nick’s tastes. He parks himself on the floor in front of where Nick is laying in the bed. “Did I wake you? Sorry!”
Nick scoots over, giving the blonde some room to sit on the bed. When he does, Nick uses the opportunity to wrap and arm around Vash’s frankly tiny waist. “No, I was awake already.”
Vash hums in acknowledgement and roots through the bag in his arms to pull out another donut. He then pulls out a danish and offers it to Nick. “There were a lot of choices but I figured you might like this.”
“How long have ya known me, angel? You should know what I like,” Nicholas teases and props himself up on one arm to take the offered pastry with the other hand.
Vash pouts. “Well, it could’ve changed! I don’t know!”
Nick savors his danish slowly, pleased with its mild sweetness. He notices Vash watching him intently and laughs internally. “Yeah, it was good, don’t worry about it.”
Vash relaxes and goes to take a giant bite of the sugary confection in his own hand. Wolfwood suddenly gets an idea. He gently paws at the hand holding the bitten donut until Vash turns to look at him. Nick opens his mouth and peers at Vash imploringly, glancing between the man’s face and the donut.
Vash understands quickly and visibly struggles with the choice between honoring Nick’s wordless request or keeping the donut for himself. Eventually after a good 30 seconds, he pushes the donut to Nick’s mouth with an adorable bite of his bottom lip and slight frown. “A small bite!”
Nick doesn’t particularly like sweets as much as Vash does so he does as asked and takes a small bite from one side of the donut. “Just as I expected,” He comments. Vash quickly draws the donut back to himself.
Nick rolls off the bed to start changing for the day.
Vash calls after him. “Hey! What do you even mean by that?”
“Sugary as fuck,” Nick elaborates dryly and laughs at the squawk it elicits from his companion.
They’re on the road again. Roberto might like to make fun of Meryl for not noticing things sometimes, but that’s only because Roberto notices way above the average person. You don’t get into the line of work they do and survive being unobservant.
Meryl’s not blind. She knows something’s up with Wolfwood and his sudden appearance and insistence to tag along with them. Roberto’s wariness around the man doesn’t help either. She takes a peek at the two in the rearview mirror. They’re both staring out different windows, away from each other.
She can't tell if they’re over what happened yesterday at all. She’s definitely not over it and she barely even knew what happened.
Both of the men were weird. Meryl saw how both of them keep getting thrashed around in fights and somehow be perfectly fine the next day where any other man would probably have been bedridden. The picture of Vash sits like a weight in her pocket. She’s a reporter. It's only natural she wants to chase a story when it intrigues her.
Except now she can’t tell if she’s found another story to uncover or if she’s found a piece of the story she’s been chasing and it's bigger than anything she had anticipated. Either way, she’s added Wolfwood to her mental list of people to chase.
A man who doesn’t age and a man who seemingly can ignore injuries.
Two immortals , Meryl muses. Ain’t that a headline.
A few towns go by. They’re lucky if they get to hit a town and leave without anything happening. A testament to Vash’s shitty luck as Meryl and Roberto are slowly learning.
Wolfwood appears to be used to the action–of being constantly on the move, constantly on the move with Vash the Stampede. He doesn’t flinch when a bounty hunter comes tearing down the doors. Doesn’t panic when the restaurant they’re in is suddenly held hostage by some local gang or outlaw.
It seems like every other day they’re in some type of life or death situation of a magnitude Meryl hasn’t experienced before she met Vash and Wolfwood just lazily lights a cigarette and heaves his gun up to watch Vash’s back in the ensuing fight.
Roberto watches them like a hawk, like they’re a puzzle he wants to put together but none of the pieces seem to fit. It reminds him of when he first joined the reporting agency, wide-eyed and eager like the newbie here. The willingness to chase down even the slightest hint of an interesting tale.
Oddly enough, it's kind of nice. This feeling of adventure and purpose.
Nick grabs Vash by the collar in front of the inn. He’s vaguely aware that Roberto and Meryl have paused in offloading the truck, alarmed by Wolfwood’s actions.
Vash’s mouth is pressed into a thin line as he slowly brings his head up to meet Nick’s eyes. The blonde briefly glances at the two watching before looking back at Nick. “Are we starting this now?”
“What the hell is with you?” Nick growls into Vash’s face. Vash glares defiantly back.
“I had it handled.”
Nick remembers the way the man took aim with the gun at Vash’s head. The way the nameless man had grinned–unreasonable and completely insane. Wolfwood snorts harshly. “Oh, sure you did-”
“I did! You didn’t need to kill him.” The words had Wolfwood dragging the lanky man closer. Vash’s hands come up to grab at the lapels of Nick’s jacket.
The words taste bitter on his tongue with Nick bites out, “He was going for his gun!”
“But you don’t know if he would have shot!” Vash’s grin tightens on Wolfwood’s shirt. Nick knew the man definitely would’ve shot.
“What the hell? He had it fucking aimed at your head!” Nick throws Vash back with his outburst. Vash stumbles back a few steps, hands letting go of Nick’s jacket in the movement.
“Even if he had, I could've dodged,” Vash states dryly.
Nick feels the frustration building. Why doesn’t Vash understand? “You had your back turned. That guy was addled out of his goddamn mind on drugs! You couldn’t have reasoned with him as well as you couldn’t survive a fucking bullet to the back of your head!”
“You had no right to take his life!” Vash finally shouts back.
“He’s had no right to take yours! You have no right to tell me to stand by and watch you get killed!” There's a slight pause when Nicholas takes a frustrated breath. Neither of them say anything and Vash is still looking at him with that stare.
Wolfwood doesn’t know how to get through to him. He’s beyond irate at this point.
Nick pulls out the pistol he has on him all the time. He levels it with Vash’s head. Meryl gasps and Roberto reaches for his own derringer. Vash doesn’t blink or flinch. “What will you do? Kill me or lose your life?”
Vash’s eyes disappear with a slight shift and the light bounces off his glasses just right. “You won’t shoot.” The words are only more fuel to the fire.
“Hah? And how will you know that? You’ve only known me for two weeks! You’ll throw away your life on a bet like that?”
“You won’t shoot,” Vash states again like it's an indisputable fact. He meets Nick’s eyes again, unwavering, certain that Nick won’t hurt him.
Nick pulls the trigger. The hammer clicks on an empty barrel. Vash still doesn’t flinch. “Looks like you’re wrong, Tongari.”
Vash must’ve seen something in Nick’s face or something in the words must’ve hit a nerve because he backs off, voice growing soft. “Still. He could’ve changed.”
“You say that like I had another choice,” Nick retorts. The moment has ended. He holsters the pistol again and spins on his heels, leaving Vash standing there.
Wolfwood doesn’t meet Roberto’s or Meryl’s eyes when he storms off. Like a liar, he tells himself it's not because he’s afraid of what he’ll see in their eyes.
Wolfwood finds himself in a bar after the argument like he always does. The words are nothing new, they’re both too stubborn for their own good. It's become like reading a script to him, the words spelled and laid out in front of him. Despite that they say them anyways, because they wouldn’t be here and who they are if they strayed from those lines.
God knows what Vash does after these arguments. Shooting range? Sleep? Sulk on some random rooftop? Either way, they’ll find themselves back in the same orbit sooner or later, sometimes they’ll apologize, aloud or by actions, and sometimes they don’t talk about it. It doesn’t hang over their heads, it’s been between them too long for that to happen.
Nick swirls the whiskey in his glass, watching the golden liquid dance, his desire to drink drowned slowly with a sense of hiraeth. He doesn’t get drunk that night, he doesn’t actually find drinking itself all that enjoyable. It’s only fun as a group activity, with the girls, with Vash.
An hour or so later, Roberto joins him, Meryl in tow. Wolfwood helps them flag down a bartender and order another glass of whiskey for Roberto and a banana sundae for Meryl. The town, well, more like city, they were in was doing well enough to afford luxuries like milk or bananas.
“What’s your game?” The old man asks without preamble, after taking the whiskey from him. He stops Meryl from drinking from her sundae. Right, assassination tactics. Nick rolls his eyes and grabs Roberto’s cup and takes a sip before handing it back with a raised eyebrow.
Roberto drinks. He lets Meryl drink. Wolfwood sits back in his chair again. “My game? There’s no game here.”
“What are you, NIcholas D. Wolfwood?” Meryl cuts in, eyes narrowed. Nick glances at her, pleased with her drive. He’s always admired how strong she is.
“I told you before, I’m just an undertaker.” Nick waves his hand in the air as if that would dispel the distrust the two have in him.
Roberto grunts. “I can’t tell if you’re trying to kill The Stampede, or stop him from dying.”
Nick can’t bite back the laugh that burst up. He schools his expression as fast as he can. “I’m trying to stop him from getting himself killed and settled into an early grave.”
“How can you heal so fast?” Meryl asks, directly, piercing the heart of the conversation that Roberto and Wolfwood have been dancing around.
Wolfwood turns all his attention to the woman. He holds up a hand, one with calluses on the palm and fingers from years of handling the Cross Punisher. “Did you know? Angels are real, who’s to say demons aren’t either? You lose a bit of your humanity every time if you lead a life like mine. Here’s a tip, princess, don’t ask questions you’re not ready for the answers of.”
Meryl is smart enough to know when to back off so she sulks and sips at her sundae. Roberto lets the conversation drop to more safe topics, like new bounties that have popped up in the area.
When they leave the bar, Nick asks for two bottles of beer to go, in case Vash is interested. He also orders a side dish, because he’s almost certain that Vash probably didn’t eat no matter where he ended up.
They run into Vash, who is sitting at the steps to the inn. He laughs sheepishly and scratches at the neck. “I didn’t grab my key.”
Wolfwood drops the chips and one bottle of beer into the blonde’s lap. “Can tell you ain’t gonna be heading up anytime soon. Wait here, I’ll grab your key.”
Vash beams at him. “Aw~, thank you Wolfwood!”
Vash opens the box like it's some kind of thoughtful present rather than a last minute purchase.
It’s chips and salsa.
Something that Vash had grown to like since meeting Wolfwood.
He’s vaguely aware of Roberto and Meryl nearby, keeping a watch on him. Roberto is smoking, Meryl is saying something. Vash eats a chip.
The chips taste pretty good.
The world spins.
Meryl lets out a cry of alarm when Vash suddenly slumps over. She runs over and starts calling his name but he doesn’t respond. At least he doesn’t look dead. Yet.
Roberto frowns at the box of chips Vash was just eating from, then eyes the doorway to the inn where Wolfwood had ran off to. He wants to start drawing conclusions, but lately he’s been considering that Vash might’ve been right about that undertaker.
He tells Meryl to stay with Vash and holler if anything about his condition changes and he goes off to find Wolfwood. He runs into the man in the stairway, and Wolfwood must’ve seen something in his posture because the man goes from relaxed to stiff in a millisecond.
“What happened?”
“Vash fell over while eating the chips you got him.” Roberto has the self-awareness to admit his phrasing sounded a bit accusatory, but he wasn’t planning on spending that extra time picking his words. That's for when he’s writing the actual stories.
Wolfwood begins swearing up a storm under his breath and picks up his pace, practically jumping the last five steps.
Meryl looks up at Wolfwood when he flies out the doorway. She’s staring at him strangely.
Wolfwood indicates for her to talk.
“He’s…delirious, I think, but awake. I don’t know what's wrong but he’s asking for you.”
Wolfwood scans Vash up and down, he pulls the box of chips out of Vash’s hand, having to pry it out finger by finger. He murmurs softly all the while. “Vash, hey, angel, look at me. There you go. I’m going to have to move you to our room right now, okay? Tell me if it hurts.”
Sometimes Wolfwood is thankful for his supernatural strength, even so, carrying Vash is easy. The man is slightly feverish and leans into Wolfwood’s chest as he climbs the stairs. Meryl helps with opening the doors, Roberto had gone back to the truck for medical supplies without needing to be asked. Nick is thankful.
Once they’re into the room Nick lays Vash down gently into the bed. Gently but swiftly, he undoes Vash’s jacket and shirt, peeling it off to reveal multiple bullet wounds. Meryl gasps beside him. Right, and also the expanse of scar littered across the man’s body.
“Get a towel, please,” Nick orders. Meryl looks queasy but to her credit she doesn’t argue at all.
Nick shifts Vash around gently until he gets the towel situated under the man.
“Nico?” Vash murmurs, his non metal hand reaching for Nick.
“Hey, Tongari, I’m going to need both hands to take care of your wounds, how about you hold Meryl’s hand for now?” Nick offers. Vash moves his hand towards Meryl and she takes it. Nick shoots her a grateful smile. She tries to give a wobbly one back.
“Hi Meryl,” Vash says deliriously.
Meryl squeezes his hand. “Hey, Vash.”
“Nico, it hurts,” Vash whines, turning his head to face Nick again. “I don’t like pain.”
“I know, angel, I know.”
Nick spends most of the time stemming the bleeding as much as he can until Roberto comes in with the medical kit. The man briefly pauses at the scene in the room but doesn’t comment or react otherwise. Good man.
Nick digs out some tweezers and gets to work coaxing out bullets from the already marred flesh. He counts five that he pulls out, irrational anger building with each one. At the people who shot them at Vash? At Vash for probably not shooting back? At himself for not being there? He doesn’t know.
At some point Vash has passed out, thankfully.
He finishes and bandages the wound, letting Vash’s naturally accelerated healing do the rest of the job. “There. He just needs a good night’s sleep now.”
Roberto gives him a look. Something has changed about the way Roberto is watching him. Like he’s found something shiny. “No hospital?” He sounds more like he’s asking for confirmation than questioning Nick.
So, Nick nods. “No, he doesn’t need one, not for this.” God, he needs a smoke.
Vash had fallen asleep at some point during all of it and so Nick shows Meryl how to get out of Vash’s grip. There’s a trick to it, otherwise Vash’s grip only gets tighter. Nick learned that the hard way.
Meryl doesn’t ask how Nick knows this. She doesn’t really need to.
She bids him good night and retreats out of the room.
Left to his own devices, Nick pulls out a lollipop and talks to Vash’s sleeping form. “You ran off and played hero again didn’t you? Or maybe you tried to reason with some bounty hunters or something. You never change. But then again, I guess we both don’t. Do you think, Vash, this is purgatory?”
Vash keeps sleeping.
“You’re right. You’re here, so it clearly can’t be anything other than Eden or Hell,” Wolfwood laughs dryly to himself in the quiet room at a joke no one else will understand.
He ends up sleeping in the armchair.
They’re on the outskirts of town when they get ambushed. A fleet of buggies come flying over the dunes, some type of gang symbol flag posted on the tails of the vehicles.
Vash is the first to notice. He stiffens all of a sudden and Wolfwood spares the blonde a glance before calling for Meryl to stop the truck.
“What is it, Tongari?”
“A gang, I think they’re after my bounty,” Vash answers. He’s already opening the door before the car has fully stopped. Wolfwood follows without a second thought.
He fetches his Cross Punisher from the roof of the car when the buggies become visible to the rest of them. The cloud of sand they’re kicking up is rather hard to miss.
Wolfwood wastes no time in unwrapping the giant gun, the cloth covering billowing in the wind.
“Don’t kill anyone!” Vash shouts.
“Seriously?” Wolfwood shouts back, exasperated.
Vash huffs. “Thou Shalt Not Kill. What kind of priest are you?”
“I’m an undertaker, not a priest,” Wolfwood grins like he told a particularly funny joke.
Vash gasps loud and dramatic. “You did not.”
No more words pass between the two of them when the gunfight starts. Roberto lights a smoke and lets them take care of it.
There’s always been something weird about those two. And it wasn’t the fact that they were clearly not normal humans. They’ve only picked Nicholas D. Wolfwood up one month ago, and while there have been plenty of fights during that time, it was nowhere near enough for the near flawless show of teamwork Vash and Wolfwood are able to pull off everytime. And it wasn’t a recent development either. It's only that Roberto had only recently started to take note of it.
They fight back to back, then easily switch enemies in a moment, never breaking the flow of whatever dance the two seem to be following. Wolfwood covers for Vash when the outlaw goes to reload, and Vash easily fends off enemies when Wolfwood spins his cross gun higher up his shoulder and activates the other end of it.
The laser is flashy and attention grabbing and Vash capitalizes on it, dartting between the gang members while they’re distracted. The trust that Vash has for Wolfwood not to shift his aim two inches to the left, on purpose or on accident, is awe inspiring.
A stray bullet comes flying their way and suddenly Vash is there, white feathers blooming around him. Roberto and Meryl have seen them a handful of times, but it never fails to make Roberto stall in the brain department trying to make sense of the appendages.
Wolfwood has no issues adapting his fighting style around the wings, having switched to hand to hand combat when Vash did.
Roberto wondered how long it took to develop that trust and teamwork, and when they had the time to do so.
Wolfwood pulls out his own cigarette when the dust starts settling. The lasted ten minutes at most and all the gang members were knocked out. There’s not a single death, there’s barely even blood apart from a few nosebleeds.
The two begin bickering good-naturedly as they make their way back to the truck, as if they didn’t just fight two against fifty and come out unharmed.
“You almost hit me there!” Wolfwood ribs, kicking at Vash’s boots.
Vash clasps his hands together in front of him. “Ah! I’m sorry!”
Wolfwood crosses his arm and turns his nose to the sky.
Somehow, these two are some of the most powerful people Roberto has ever met.
Nick sits down next to Vash by the window. He remembers a conversation from what felt like a lifetime ago. "Roberto thinks he knows what I am."
Vash turns to face him, the light from the moons casts a gentle glow onto his face. He laughs lightly. "Oh yeah? And what's that?"
"A man who would follow you in every single life." Vash blushes bright red but a smile is working its way onto his face. Nick leans in so their foreheads are touching. "And I know what you are."
"What am I, Nico?"
"My salvation." And my damnation.
They’re so close that Vash can feel Nicholas’ breaths. Almost hear the other man’s steady heartbeat. Vash takes comfort in the rhythm.
Nick holds a serious expression for all of two seconds before a crooked grin breaks the spell.
Vash laughs and shoves Nick away. "That's so cheesy."
Nick is also snickering away. "Okay, okay! How about this?" Nick picks up his non-metal hand and brings it up to his lips. "You're my partner, no matter what." Vash lets Nick bring them onto the bed.
"No matter what," Vash echoes.
They’re sleeping on the roof of the truck, forced to camp out in the middle of the desert. Meryl and Roberto were given the inside of the vehicle.
Neither of them are asleep and Vash is pointing out constellations quietly for Nick.
“Hey, Nick?” Vash drops his arm on top of Wolfwood’s.
“Yeah?” Nick continues tracing the stars.
“I’m glad I get to see tomorrow with you.”
Nick turns to stare with Vash, mouth slightly agape. Quickly, he schools his expression into a frown. "I think we'll be 'seeing tomorrow' together forever."
"Forever doesn't sound that long if it is with you."