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Vash,
Milly and I got called out on assignment early this morning. We'll be back by the end of the week. Try not to call attention to yourself while we're gone.
And for God's sake, keep Wolfwood out of trouble.
Meryl
It was the note that Vash had woken up to that Monday morning. The gang, on their endless travels, had ended up in a little trading post far west of any major cities. They were only supposed to spend a night or two and continue on once Vash was healed up from his most recent gunshot wounds (there were too many to count by now). But when he and Nick woke up that day to find the girls' room empty, it was clear that they had a longer stay in Dustbowl than originally anticipated.
It was Wednesday now, and Vash was starting to get antsy.
With a deep sigh, he laid his head down on the table and stared out into the street. Dustbowl was about as pleasant as the name suggested. A little dirtball of a town, with only a public house and an inn as staple buildings. Everything else was collapsible, foldable carts and caravans of travelers hoping to sell off the back end of their stock before returning to the main road. All things considered, it was a pretty good place for a high profile criminal to camp out; a constant ebb and flow of faces meant that no one stuck around long enough to realize who he was. At least he had company.
"Breakfast." Nicholas D. Wolfwood, his trusty cross back in their bedroom, sat across from Vash with two lukewarm mugs of beer. Their two rented rooms at the inn had a balcony with an awning, which protected them from the desert sun, but also secured a bit of privacy for the criminal and his comrades.
Vash, his chin on the table, stared at the beer with a frown. "That's breakfast?" he said.
"What? It's grain and yeast. It's practically toast." Nick took a swig of his own, and with a wipe of his lips, pulled out a crinkled cigarette to wash it all down. "Besides, beer's cheap out here, and our allowance is running low."
"How low?"
"Low."
"Oh." Vash sat up and took a sip. The beer was hardly the best quality. In fact, if pressed, Vash wasn't entirely sure that it wasn't dirty river water. But Nick had paid for it, and Vash wasn't going to complain. He eyed his companion from across the way. Nick, lost in his own thoughts, stared out into the street, his cigarette clinging to his lips. He'd always been a handsome guy, Vash decided. Bronze skinned, charming, funny. It made him wonder if Nick was an outlier, or if all priests had to be lookers for some strange reason. Religion had never been Vash's strong suit, so he wouldn't know either way.
"What?" Nick's voice pulled him out of his thoughts, and Vash blinked. Nick stared over his sunglasses. "You look like you got something to say, Spike."
"Ah, no. It's nothing." Vash put on a quick smile and continued to drink. "So? What are your plans for the day?"
"Thinking about winning us some money."
"Yeah?"
"Yeah. I noticed a band of gamblers come in last night."
"How could you tell they were gamblers?"
"They kept arguing about who owed who how much money and why. Chronic gamblers if ever I've seen 'em. Figured I could play a round of cards. Maybe double our cache."
"Are you that good at cards, Nick?"
Nick smiled and ashed his cigarette. "I'd like to think so. But I'm going to need to put up the rest of our double dollars up as a buy in. You good with that, Vash?"
Vash hesitated. "Well, if you think you can win..."
"I do." Finishing his smoke, Nick tossed it off the railing and held up his beer. "Wish me luck, huh?" Vash smiled, and they clinked their glasses together.
When they were finished with their "breakfast," the pair of them got dressed and headed across the street to the saloon. Nick had the foresight to grab his cross on the way out; he didn't like to go far without it. Despite the late morning hour, it was crawling with patrons. Between the merchants, the miners, and the shady figures, there was danger in just about every inch of the place. Vash was sure to keep his guard up as they walked inside. Nick paused and tapped Vash's chest. He nodded to the corner. Sure enough, just off to the right of the bar, was a small band of card players. They were grizzled and bloodshot, with grease in their beards and dirt beneath their fingernails. If Vash had to guess, they might have been ore miners, though it wasn't polite to assume.
"Gentlemen!" The four men looked up to see Nick approach them. "Blessings of the Lord be upon you. Anyone feel like confessing anything today? Impure thoughts? Recent altercations? Fish on a Friday?"
"Buzz off, preacher," one of the miners grumbled. "We're busy."
"I can see that," said Nick. "I was actually wondering if I can join your game."
One of the gamblers, a large man with a hat full of holes, leaned back in his seat with a hearty guffaw. "Now why would some priest want to get in on a game of cards?"
"Why else? I've got to earn your trust if I want to save your souls." With a smile, Nick pulled out a small fold of $$20. "Plus, I'm pretty good at cards, myself."
The gamblers muttered among themselves, before one of them noticed Vash hovering in the background. "Who's your friend?" he asked.
"Oh, him?" Nick threw his arm around Vash's shoulders. "Don't mind this little guy. Spikey here is just my emotional support sinner. Isn't that right?"
"I mean, sure, I guess," Vash chuckled.
"Fine." With a murmur of agreement, one of the gamblers pulled over a chair. Nick handed Vash his cross and took a seat. The $$20 was added to the pot, and the game began anew. Although Vash had absolutely no idea how the game was played or how well Nick was doing, he watched devoutly over Nick's shoulder. Nick had always had an ease about him which Vash admired. He took and gave out cards in smooth motions, cracking jokes and laughing casually. Pretty soon, the whole table had a far more welcoming air, no doubt due to Nick's inherent charm. Vash, who hadn't noticed just how close he'd been getting, eventually rested his chin on Nick's shoulder. Nick barely noticed.
"How are we doing?"
"We're up by almost $$100."
Vash whistled lowly. "You really are good, Nick," he said, impressed.
"Told you."
Gambler #3 (neither Nick nor Vash bothered learning their names), grunted. "Oy, preacherman. It's your deal. Quit chewing the fat with your boyfriend and get to dealing."
Vash's cheeks went red, but Nick didn't seem affected. "My apologies, gentlemen." He began to shuffle. "Hey, Spike." He held up $$10. "Why don't you go grab us some grub at the bar? I'm famished." Vash lit up at the prospect of food, and swiped it dutifully.
"You got it." He wandered over to the bar like a ray of literal sunshine, and slapped the note down on the bartop. "Heya! What's there to eat, Mr. Bartender?"
The barman, a sleepy fellow with a mustache that covered half his face, wiped the same mug continuously with a filthy old rag. "Got some bacon and biscuits."
"Gravy?"
"I think so."
"Two of those, please!"
The barman nodded and trundled off to the back kitchen. Vash could almost taste the cream gravy, the buttermilk bread or the charred black bacon. He licked his lips and rubbed his stomach, and wondered if Nick would want to celebrate their win later in the night. Maybe with a big dinner they could pick at for the next couple of days. He turned, his mouth open to ask, when he was greeted with a troubling scene at the gambling table.
"...lyin' cheat!" One of the gamblers was out of his chair, and bent over his hands with a glower in his eyes. That ire was directed to Nick D. Wolfwood, and in an instant, Vash was on alert. "No way he keeps winning like he does without some trick!"
"Sir, I'm a man of God," Nick reminded him. "Do you really think I'd cheat?"
"I don't trust no preacher as far as I can throw them. You've got to be playing dirty!"
His hunger forgotten, Vash walked back to the table. His sunny demeanor was gone as his eyes hardened with worry. "Nick? What's happening?"
Nick stood from the table and quietly collected their spoils. "The game's being called," he said. "It looks like I've been playing with some sore losers."
"Sore loser!?" Gambler #2 shot up, knocking back his chair in the process. "Show us your sleeves, you two-timin' varmint!"
"Let's get out of here," Nick mumbled. But just as he was turning to leave, Gambler #1 grabbed his arm and opened up his sleeve. In view of everyone in the bar, three ace cards, all the same suit, came spilling out onto the table top. The four big, beefy, angry men stood from their seats, looking ready to turn poor Nick into mincemeat. "Yup. Time to go."
Chaos erupted.
The four gamblers jumped onto Nick to wrangle their money out of his pockets, but Vash was faster. Grabbing Nick by the collar, he threw him clear across the bar, where the priest landed uneasily on nimble feet. Unfortunately, this left Vash in line of fire of the four angry gamblers. Vash was overrun with hands, and collapsed under their collective weight. Nick, clinging to the door frame, shot up in worry. "Vash!" Nick was ready to run back into the fray for his friend, when he saw something long and red slither out from beneath the arms and legs of the angry men. Slippery as a snake, Vash managed to squeeze his way out of danger, grab Nick's cross, and make a run for the exit.
"Hey--!" The gamblers barely had a moment to realize what was happening before Nick and Vash were out of the saloon and high-tailing it down the dusty road. Behind them, both men could hear the scramble of shouts and guns at their backs.
"They're going to kill us!" Nick shouted. "Vash, we gotta shake 'em!"
"Why do I have to clean up your mess!?"
"Because we're pals!"
"THAT'S NOT AN EXCUSE!"
BANG BANG BANG BANG!
The gunshots bounced off the dirt, nipping at their heels. If they were going to get out alive, they needed a diversion. Fortunately, just to the south of Dustbowl was a series of tall, precarious ridges, each one with sections of rock having fallen victim to the erosion of time. As they ran through the canyon, Vash was struck with a brilliant idea.
"Nick!"
"What!?"
"I need you to hold me!"
"What!?"
"Just do it!"
With the cross strapped to his back, Nick opened up his arms. Like a long, spindle marsupial, Vash jumped onto Nick's chest and locked his legs around Nick's waist. Now that he was looking back, the four gamblers had since enlisted the help of the town, and they were now being pursued by twenty men at least. Vash pulled out his gun and checked the barrel. One bullet; he hadn't had the time to restock. Vash slapped the barrel shut and aimed. One bullet would have to do.
He fired. Not at the men, but in the air, towards the ridges of rock that towered above them.
That single bullet smacked into a narrow neck of rock, ricocheted, and bounced back into another neck of rock on the other side. A rumble rocked the world as those unstable rocks began to tumble from their perches and onto the earth below. Nick skid to a halt, with Vash still clinging to his chest, and they watched. Fortunately, the townsfolk had enough foresight to stop before they were all crushed under the avalanche of rocks. The avalanche which in turn created a dam, blocking Nick and Vash from the angry gamblers and their friends.
"Ha!" Vash twirled his empty gun and holstered it. "Let's see them get through that!"
"Nice shot." Nick paused, and turned his head. "Hey, Vash?"
"Yeah?"
"You mind getting off me now?"
"Oh, sorry." Vash uncurled his lanky legs and hopped to the ground. Nick, shifting the cross on his shoulder, turned to depart. Vash lingered just a moment more. "Sorry for the rocks!" he shouted. With no response from the other side, Vash followed Nick through the canyon and out into the wild desert beyond.
・┆✦ʚ♡ɞ✦ ┆・
It was always so much colder at night in the desert. The vast, open plains of land, like an ocean of earth, dormant and quiet beneath an endless blanket of stars. Vash wondered how many systems were out there. If each star was in turn a sun for their own worlds, their own universes. It was a thought that was both incredibly lonely, and wholly comforting. He, Vash the Stampede, was insignificant. A mite of dust on a speck of time. And yet, with that thought came a sense of freedom. Because nothing, really, mattered. And if nothing mattered, than anything could.
"Got it!"
Vash looked over to see Nick crouched down over their now measly fire. He'd been trying for an hour to get it to spark, and now, they had the smallest bit of kindling burning timidly in the night air. It wasn't big enough to cook with, and it sure as Hell wasn't going to keep them warm. More than anything, Vash wondered if Nick made it out of pride.
Currently, they were resting on a flat bit of desert, far, far away from Dustbowl. Milly and Meryl would have a Hell of a time trying to find them, but neither Vash nor Nick doubted they could. Vash, laying flat on his back, rested his head on the long neck of Nick's cross. Nick dusted off his hands and laid down on the opposite side. Now, each of them were facing each other, though their bodies were sprawled out in different directions. "How's that for my first fire?" said Nick proudly.
Vash smiled. "You did a good job," he praised.
"Yeah, I did, didn't I?" Nick folded his arms and blew a trill through his lips. "Only wish we coulda eaten something before we got run out. Sorry, Vash. I know you were hungry."
"Oh, that's ok. We'll find something to eat soon."
"You think?"
"No."
"Oh."
They went silent, staring up at the heavens. Despite the crazy day, neither of them seemed tired. "At least we got some money," said Nick.
"We can't eat money."
"I guess we can't, no."
Again, silence.
"Are you sleepy, Nick?"
"No. Are you?"
"No."
Nick sat up and rubbed the back of his head. "I don't even have a cigarette to pass the time."
Vash shifted his head to see Nick better. In his vision, Nick was now upside down. "We could talk."
"About what?"
"I don't know. Whatever you want."
Nick smiled over his shoulder and returned his eyes to the stars. "Usually when I don't have much to talk about, I ask the other person if they want to confess."
"Confess?"
"You know. Confession. Like, a religious confession."
"Oh."
Nick turned and propped himself on his arm. He smiled down at Vash, and Vash could see the particles of starlight reflected in his dark eyes. "So? Tell me your sins, my son."
"Sins? I don't know if I have any."
Nick squinted. "You're a $$60 billion criminal, Mr. Stampede."
"Oh yeah. I mean, besides that."
Nick scratched at his head. "Well... what's something you've never told anybody?"
"Hm?"
"I mean, I know you got those memory gaps or whatever, but maybe just within the last year or so? What's a secret you don't tell anybody else?"
Vash laced his fingers over his stomach and stared into the sky. "I've never had goat cheese."
Nick snorted. "Seriously?"
"Well it's true."
"Nah, man, not like that. Something... It's gotta be something personal. Something that maybe you might be embarrassed about?"
Vash frowned. "Why do you care?"
"I'm a priest. It's in the job description."
Vash returned his eyes to the heavens. "I guess... hm. I guess if I had to pick something, it's probably the fact that I've never kissed anyone before."
Nick threw up his eyebrows in surprise. "What? What do you mean never?"
"I mean never. I don't think I ever have. It doesn't feel like I did in my past. I can't be sure, of course, but..."
"Whoa whoa whoa. You've never kissed anyone before."
"That's what I said."
Nick lingered, his brain working out the details. "I mean... do you want to?"
"Hm?"
"Like... some people just aren't interested in kissing. Is that sort of your deal?"
"I don't think so. It looks nice. I've just never done it."
"Huh." Still propped to his side, Nick fiddled with his fingers. "That's... kind of sad."
"What do you mean?"
"Well, you're a sweet guy, Spikey. Kinda sad that no one's ever kissed you before."
"Oh. Well that's okay."
They fell into silence. Nick's eyes met Vash's, and for a brief moment, there was a quiet understanding. An offer, timidly laid out on the table. Nick, in an unusual expression of embarrassment, was the first to look away. "Do you... I mean... Do you want a kiss?"
Vash blinked. "I guess I do."
"You guess."
"Well I mean... it's nice, right?"
"Yeah. Kissing's real nice."
"Then yes. I do want a kiss. Some day."
Nick looked around, casually. "We're alone," he pointed out.
"Yeah. It's quiet."
"No I mean..." Nick floundered. "Ugh, nevermind." Nick laid flat on the ground, and propped his head up on the cross. Vash watched him. Their faces were mere inches away. "Forget it. It's stupid."
"What's stupid, Nick?"
"I said forget it."
Vash rolled completely onto his side, and Nick looked over. "Were you going to ask if you could kiss me?"
Nick flushed brightly. "What?! What are you talking about you spikey haired--?!"
"Okay."
Nick froze. "Huh?"
"I mean, if you want to give me a kiss, I'd be okay with that."
"You... you would?"
"Sure. You're really handsome, Nick. I always thought so."
By now, the poor priest was damn near steaming his face was so red. He looked away, covering his mouth with his hand. "You gotta stop doing that."
"Doing what?"
"Looking like that. All big-eyed and innocent and..."
"But this is just how I look."
"Yeah, I know." After a moment, Nick turned back to Vash. A soft brush of wind tickled their hair. Nick, hoisting himself on his elbow, met Vash's face. There was still a remanence of red on his cheeks, but Nick had mostly recovered. "Alright. Let's do this."
Vash smiled, awkwardly. "You're really serious about it."
"Well it's your first kiss. It needs to be good."
"I guess so." Vash inched closer. He took a breath. "Okay. Hit me."
Nick leaned in. Vash followed suit. Their lips met, and the world fell to an even quieter hush.
It was simple, at first. A soft and innocent liplock. The perfect amount of pressure, with restraint enough not to overwhelm Vash in his very first experience. Vash's eyes fluttered, and after a moment, he closed them, and pushed forward. Sensing the kiss was becoming more intimate, Nick reciprocated. His head tilted, and a hand laid against Vash's long neck. The air was so quiet, both could hear the feral drumbeats of their hearts. They broke apart, but didn't stray far. Their eyelashes mingled, and their noses rested side by side.
"Wow," Vash breathed.
"Good?"
"Good." A shiver overcame him, which had nothing to do with the air. "Are all priests good kissers?"
Nick laughed. "Wow there's a lot to unpack there." Nick glanced at their (now dead) bit of kindling. "It's gonna be a cold one. Here." He pat the sand next to him. Vash obliged, and they hunkered down together for warmth. Nick wrapped his arms around Vash, who snuggled perfectly against his chest.
"I liked it," said Vash.
"I'm glad."
"Can we do it again? Like, later?"
Rather than answer, Nick graced Vash with one more innocent kiss. "Whenever you like. Night, Spikey."
"Goodnight, Nick."