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Vash hates letting Wolfwood truly see the way he looks sometimes, the sad expression that rolls over his eyes like a wandering fog spilling itself over the decimated remains of some poor ghost town, left for dead. He recognises when he feels like he is spiralling inside but never ends up realising it soon enough and gets stuck for what could be minutes or hours at a time. He stares down at his hands, or left hand to be specific, and resents himself. He resents the way he is, or rather the way he was made, a ghastly amalgamation of skin and metal, rust slowly seeping its way across the then-shining plates and in between the painful rivets that forcefully stitch what of him is real and what of him is not like some cruel tapestry of flesh and steel. The buffeting of sand reduced the shine of his arm, and part of his heart too, leaving him to wonder what it truly means to be human.
Playing with the screws that keep him physically together, Vash watches out into the bleak darkness of his room, looking back on his life and how he ended up the way he is now, pondering on if his path of pacifism really is worth walking down if it leaves him in such a sorry state afterwards. No point milling on it, Vash knows what he is doing is right, he’d rather take the bullet than see someone else die by it instead. Simply put, the thought of someone, anyone, dying for any reason rooted in pure malice and violence, it causes his world to completely crumble at any given point.
His weathered coat folded slack over the worn wooden chair sat solitary in the corner of the room, barely within Vash's line of sight, the belts draped atop the coat slowly slipping further towards the ground, his shirt thrown against the pillow of the bed. The light of the moons gently illuminates Vash's space, the stretching shadow of the gradually rusting bed cutting through, his arm shines with a brilliance he hasn't seen in a long time. He turns his wrist, examining the spaces between each piece of metal, how the light bleeds even in between his fingers. He stares at the small slit of amber glowing beneath the door to his room, watching the shadows of passers by. Vash gives up on moping and decides he's had enough, pushing himself off the mattress, leaving a cloud of dust in his wake, and making his way towards the door.
His hand hovers over the door handle, hesitant as to who his mind seeks. Meryl? He doesn't feel like exposing this side of him to her. Milly? She's too sweet to bring down like that… Vash takes in a sharp breath and turns the handle, the soft light from the hallway steadily lighting up his face. He takes a step out and, like muscle memory, knows immediately where to go.
"FOR CHRIST'S SAKE, I SAID GO AWAY, I DON'T NEED CLEANING-" the rapid knocks at his door brings Wolfwood to his last nerve. He flicks the remaining paper of his cigarette out of the window, watching it fall until it hits the ground, a faint trail of smoke floating upwards. He drags his way over to his door, leaning his head back and rolling his eyes, reluctant to even open up his room. Wolfwood throws his hand to the door and swings the door open, prepared to slam it shut again.
"For the LAST time, I said I don't need-" His eyes blow wide, part with surprise and part with guilt, and he stands completely dead still. Before him stands Vash, eyes red and face solemn, bearing his scars to the world, to Wolfwood.
"Hiya, Nick…" Vash laughs, tensing himself up, due to both the cold and standing shirtless in front of Wolfwood's open door frame. He rubs the back of his neck and shoots that awkward smile he does, hoping he'll be let in.
"The fuck are you standing out here for? If you're after drinks, I ain't got any, Vash, 'm sorry" Wolfwood can only stand and stare at the man in front of him, trying his hardest to not disrespectfully stare at the worn man before him. He'd seen Vash's body before but only in partial glances, he didn't want to seem rude or breach his boundaries, so seeing him exposed like this is a shock to his system. He can feel his eyes wander, not out of intrigue but out of sincere concern and care for the man. Watching as his skin spreads across his body, stretching from each scar and muscle that decorates his body like unwanted war medals, Wolfwood gently feels the rush of blood to his head, or to be more specific, his cheeks.
“Nah, I’m not here for that, Wolfwood, not quite in the mood, can I come in? Please?” He looked like a lost puppy brought into shelter from the rain, that pleading and desperate look without seeming forced, genuine and sincere. Wolfwood initially looks at him in shock, the man that stands before him, Vash the Stampede, who acts as aloof and blissfully unaware as anything, presents himself as anything but, his bashful charm still glittering but there is a deep confliction behind his eyes, as Wolfwood notices. That smile that doesn’t quite reach Vash’s eyes slowly spreads across his face as he waits for a response, anxiously playing with the bolts in his hand.
“Ah, to hell with it, come on in, Spikey, what d’ya need?” A light shines in Vash’s eyes as Wolfwood props the door open with his foot, gesturing for him to enter first.
‘What a kind gesture, to accept me in!’ Vash thinks to himself as he walks towards the dim room, balling up his fist in gratitude, only to hear a smug
“Ladies first” coming from beneath Wolfwood’s breath as he snickers to himself.
“Who are you calling a lady, mister!” Vash remarks as he walks past the preacher, gently flicking him on the forehead, making his way down the short, identical room entrance and into the centre, shuffling onto the sand-beaten carpet beneath his feet.
The room is eerily dim, with the moons’ light spilling onto the floor, all the same as Vash’s room, with the thin curtain gently floating as a dry breeze sweeps past the opening. Wolfwood turns from the door to see Vash simply stood in the middle of his room, a strange sight but far from unsettling. As scary as Vash can be sometimes, Wolfwood realises this is not one of those moments. Considering the many sides that Wolfwood has seen during his time of knowing Vash, his rage, his genuine happiness, his concern, his confusion, he had never seen such a soft tenderness to him,like a light was glowing within him, the flicker of a small candle, warm, sweet, harmless. And harmless couldn’t be a better way to describe the man that stood behind him. His foot shifts and the door swings to a close behind Wolfwood as he switches the room’s light on and makes his way to meet his friend. The slight flickering of the worn bulb makes Vash flinch slightly, but powers through as he was invited in, he is the guest after all.
“So, how come you wanna see me at whatever this time is?” Wolfwood questions, drifting his way over to the small bedside table and pours out a single malt whiskey into a small, chipped glass and extends his arm out to Vash.
“Got a lot on my mind and you seem like the type to listen, I guess…” Vash responds timidly, partially ashamed of himself for admitting his true feelings to one of the closest people to him, his palm returning to the back of his neck and that nervous smile creeping its way back, making his eyes seem so sad. He extends his hand out apprehensively and takes the small drink offered to him. A courteous gesture that Vash can’t overlook even if he tried. He recoils at the burn as he sips the alcohol, returning the empty glass back to Wolfwood who sets it down with a gentle chime of glass.
“Well, I’ve heard quite the tale or two from church-goers so I guess I’ve got quite the ear, what’s gotcha weighin’ down?” Wolfwood makes his way over to the bed and draws the windows shut with a lot less force than Vash was expecting, the click of the lock enabling his feelings of security. They sit side by side, a small cloud of dust is kicked up as the ageing springs beneath them strain.
“Admittedly, I’m not all that sure, Nick, this happens every so often, I can’t really describe it…” Vash clenches his hands together, slowly warming the metal of his palm with the pressure.
“I’ll say… D’you wanna borrow a coat? I think there should be a spare sheet or blanket folded up around here somewhere…” Wolfwood goes to stand up but Vash shoots him a simple, soft expression that could only be read as ‘stay’. It could have melted the heart of the coldest, most steel-hearted person and move them to tears. He immediately sat back down, noticeably closer too, the fabric of their trousers barely grazing against one another’s. The slight friction made Wolfwood almost jump, which warranted a surprised glance from Vash, who was, as usual, oblivious to it even happening. Vash stops playing with his hands for a while and lets them fall into his lap so softly that they barely make a noise. He goes to take in a deep breath, stretching out his shoulders and back, and lets everything go, he hangs loose.
“Wolfwood, look at me, look at this, what do you see?” Vash gestures weakly to himself, his arms giving a saddened presentation to his friend, fearing what his response may be after laying his skin bare to the man closest to him. Wolfwood reaches his arms out and helps to lower Vash’s own and sets them back in his own lap.
“D’ya want a serious or a stupid answer?” Wolfwood’s question is followed by a quick jab to his side, which causes him to slightly double over, his chest resting against his knees as he wheezes. This sparks a soft laugh out of Vash and a killer stare from Wolfwood in retaliation.
“Okay, fine, fine, ‘m just glad I got you to laugh, Spikey” He answers, sitting up straight in recovery, trying to take in as much air as he can with his rough lungs.
“What I see is you, Vash, I see a man. I see a man, courageous and brave, stupid to the extreme sometimes, but just looking at you… You’re a strong man, Vash. So strong that I might even say I’m proud of your dumb as- I’m sorry, I’m sorry!” Wolfwood dodges as he narrowly escapes another jab to the chest, he wasn’t having that again!
“Seriously though, you’re committed to your bit, Vash the Stampede, and that takes a lot of guts. I see a man built on compassion and care for others, I see a man who needs that compassion for himself. I see a man who loves and deserves to be loved. You’re you, Vash, and that is more than enough. Knowing you the way I do puts any and all rumours to bed, the man I know and the man they do, I want them to know this you.” Wolfwood gently balls up his fist and bumps it against Vash’s chest, pointing at him as he pulls his arm away. Needless to say, the response Vash got was not the one he initially expected and it leaves him pleasantly surprised. A sharp sting in his eye and all of a sudden, Vash finds himself completely worn and crumbles like ash. He clasps his face in his hands and leans over himself, wanting to hide himself away from the world, away from Wolfwood, he doesn’t want him seeing him in such a state… but he was here for help, so what was he thinking? Bleary eyed and sniffling, Vash raises his head to look at the man who has made his heart truly feel warm. He can feel Wolfwood’s hand resting tenderly against the back of his shoulder, that compassion, that warmth, that care that he finds himself needing, wanting, craving for so long, it is finally there, and everything shatters before him.
“Oh, shit, I didn’t mean to make you cry! I’m sorry, Vash, I didn’t wanna-” Wolfwood is sharply cut off by the feeling of tight arms around him, warm, tense and yet so soft, that feeling of finding relief in something, or rather in someone. His hand remains on Vash’s back, with his other arm shortly meeting in the same, holding Vash back with the same amount of adoration as he displays. They remain embraced for what feels like an eternity, with neither of them even considering letting go, not yet, not just yet. Vash raises his head to meet his partner’s, their eyes meeting in the most blissful silence they’ve both ever experienced. He smiles, that soft, serene smile he has when he truly feels at his happiest, the kind of smile that finally reaches his eyes and causes those little creases, Wolfwood had never realised that Vash had the slightest smile dimple on the left side of his face until this point, which made him smile too. They both look to eachother with the most tender-hearted smiles, simply taking one another in.
Vash breathes deeply once more and slowly lets go of Wolfwood after holding onto eachother for so long, and looks back down at his lap again. His turn.
“Is it? Is that, all that you said, is that truly what you think? These physical burdens of defenceless heroism… Aren’t they sickening to even look at? Let alone even thinking about them, they’re a marker of the path I choose to stand beside, for the sake of her, the sake of myself… Do these reminders not turn your stomach in sickness? In disbelief? In disgust? Or do you truly think they are as heroic as I lead myself to be, a reminder that I can take what others cannot, so I deserve to take that pain and display it in some kind of twisted pride…” The fabric of Vash’s trousers twists and balls within the grasp of his fist, the force of his grip displaying his battle against tears once more. He chews on the skin of his lip, trying to bring more of his reasoning to the surface, but a block in his throat acts as the ice above his waters. He chokes on his words, forcing himself to inhale sharply and suddenly in an attempt to power through, but it all melts away when he feels the warmth of a hand against his face, wiping away the start of a tear.
“I don’t get how you see so much in me… when all I was had been ripped from me so long ago… I want you to know me, Nick, so how… how can you tell so much from me already? I don’t understand how you see something other than someone to be feared, someone to be despised, someone who the world thinks deserves to be six feet beneath sand and stone…” Vash’s hand reaches up to meet Wolfwood’s, the softness of his own hand meeting with his partner’s rough, calloused skin, but he doesn’t care for how they feel, that warmth is more than enough to satiate a burning within him that he never realised was there to begin with. A craving of touch, truthful, caring, human touch.
“How do you see me as something, anything other than horrific?” He asks again, purposefully avoiding any kind of eye contact with Wolfwood, only to fail miserably and lock gazes with him once more.
“Vash, the only one who sees you that way is you… if the world knew you the way I do, they’d-”
“They’d what? They’d simply forget about the atrocities that I committed? They’ll see past the ridiculous amount of money on my head? What’ll they do? Truthfully?” There is a red veil clouding Vash’s judgement, that sparkling optimism he carried about with him on his sleeve, Wolfwood misses it. He shoves Wolfwood’s hand off of his face as well as his own, in denial and constant conflict within himself as to if he truly deserves the help he so desperately seeks. In surprise, but without showing it, Wolfwood returns his hand to Vash, resting his palm against the other’s cheek once again. There is no refusal this time around, much to his relief.
“They’d see you for who you truly are, a man of righteousness and pacifism, a man of many mistakes but within those mistakes, they will see growth, your growth. They will see you, a hero, Vash, a man deserving of the praise he is handed.” Wolfwood’s eyes continue to meet Vash’s, whose gaze softens as he hears each word.
“You’re a man worthy of love, Vash, believe me. I can confidently say there are many people out there, spread out across this planet, in cities iles over or even next door to you, there are so many people who see you with respect and with admiration and, dare I say,” Wolfwood stops momentarily to light himself a cigarette before continuing his sentence.
“With love”.
With that one statement, all of Vash’s walls come tumbling down, that light that Wolfwood loves so much gradually returning to his eyes, a string of disbelief still holding on inside of his heart. ‘Love…? Of all things, of all people… love?’ The thought swims around Vash’s mind over and over, grasping at any kind of comprehension of the fact that he truly could be loved by someone, truly. Wolfwood clocks his confusion and exhales deeply, letting out a swirling cloud of ashy grey smoke. He reaches over to reopen the windows as he starts to talk, he doesn’t want to hurt Vash, especially not by something as small as second hand smoke.
“I meant what I said, Tongari, listen to me. You’re not going to be beating yourself up any longer, not on my watch. What you’ve got is something incredible, something different compared to everyone else on this damn planet, something beautiful. What you’ve got is you. And no matter how you are, how you look, how you come across, you will always be appreciated. If not by others, then by us, hell, even by myself. I love ya to the ends of this planet, Vash, there’s so much deep rooted respect in here for you, I can tell you that for sure!” With that said, Vash’s eyes blow wide. ‘Wolfwood… loves me? He loves me? In a brotherly kind of way, surely…! Surely…’
Wolfwood sits back down again, his legs hanging off of the side of the mattress and kicking up at the raised edges of each piece of floorboard, anticipating a reaction from a shocked-faced yet silent Vash. Evidently enough, he has inched closer to Vash once more, their legs physically touching by this point, only raising the blonde’s confusion further. He feels the blood rush to his face and eventually scrambles away into the corner of the bed, like a stray cat after being approached by an overly eager child.
“Hey, what’s got ya all skittish? Said too much?” Wolfwood shuffles himself over, trying to understand why Vash moved so far and so fast. A crumpled pillow to the face is the response Wolfwood was not expecting, but the response he definitely was given from Vash. Pulling himself up onto the bed, Wolfwood sits cross legged across from Vash, watching his friend, if he can still bring himself to call Vash that by this point, bunch up his duvet and smother himself in the linen.
“Vash the Stampede, the chaser of the mayfly known as love, devout searcher for love and peace, how does it feel to know you’re loved?” Wolfwood tilts his head slightly in suspense, awaiting the eventual arrival of Vash’s response.
“Well, I dunno, really, I guess it was the whole idea of finding my own life and that one special person… I appreciate that you guys love me, you and the insurance girls, I guess it is a different kind of love that I’m looking for I guess?” Vash awkwardly laughs and slowly lets down the duvet, letting it crumple in on itself as it drops, his chin now resting in the palm of his hand, his arm propped up by his elbow resting against his knee, making him look deep in thought.
“Who says it is different?” Wolfwood shuffles closer, taking a lengthy drag of his cigarette and reaching out over the window to tap away the ashes, sighing and letting all of the smoke escape.
“I mean, you said that- and the girls- and you- well… I guess no one really ever said that!” Vash fumbles and chews on his words, trying to piece two and two together and, evidently, failing. Wolfwood laughs, a deep, hearty laugh that feels so powerful and genuine, he takes his cigarette into his hand and leans over to let every last part out.
“Vash. Vash. Something ain’t clicking up there, it weren’t the drink I offered you, was it?” Wolfwood continues to laugh, hoping that Vash eventually catches on to the same direction he is travelling in, so to speak.
“Noooo, no, no, I’ve been worse and you know that! A little bit of hooch has never set me back too far! At least I don’t think so…” Vash lets another of his awkward laughs slip, still pondering in the depths of his mind. “That’s besides the point anyway,I’m still trying to figure out what you mean by all of this…”
“Jeez, needle noggin, I never realised you’d be this slow!” Wolfwood slowly reaches over and places the half-burned cigarette in between Vash’s lips, not expecting him to drag from it but just to let it hang there. Admittedly, he thinks Vash looks quite badass with it! Bright green eyes blow wide once more as he realises just what exactly hangs from his mouth at that moment, hurriedly but carefully taking the still lit cigarette out of his mouth.
“I think this is yours, d’you want it back? I’m not exactly a smoker myself.”
The world moves as if it had been spun like a child finding a model globe, faster and faster, perpetually spinning. Vash can barely keep a grip of himself, his head spinning in circles, wondering where all of the pressure laying within his chest is coming from. And what feels so soft? A faint, lingering taste of cheap alcohol and stale cigarette smoke remains in his mouth, but he cannot figure out the source. That is, until he opens his eyes. In front of him sits a mop of unruly black hair and the sudden expression of shock in a pair of the most beautifully dark eyes he had seen. Not shock from his actions however, no, shock at Vash’s response. The pressure, the softness, it all starts to make sense inside of Vash’s mind, like the strings and pins of a corkboard finally falling into place, unearthing the explanation once and for all. That 'love' that Wolfwood had mentioned before, it makes more sense than ever before. Not once has Vash ever felt the way he does now.
He had pondered before on the thought of what a truly meaningful and loving kiss would feel like, wanting to know if it is just as wonderful people describe it to be, and to his sudden discovery, it is nothing like he expected but in the best way possible. Before Wolfwood succumbs to his internal embarrassment from kissing his best friend, Vash smiles while their lips still connect and gently closes his eyes again, letting whatever happens between him and Wolfwood happen. Inside of his mind, Vash confronts a million feelings at once, dispelling panic, embracing catharsis, confronting fear and, most of all, finding love. He feels torn apart due to this gesture and he'd hate to admit it. A part of him wants to embrace and latch onto this love, giving Wolfwood everything he can, with another part of him wanting Wolfwood as far away from him as physically possible out of the sheer dread of watching him get hurt. But he lets the kiss fulfil itself a little longer before opening his eyes again.
"That enough of an answer for ya then?" Wolfwood asks with a slight laughter to his voice, leaning back on one of his arms, his hand against the bedsheets. Vash raises his arm up to his mouth, still reeling from the disbelief in his mind. Wolfwood had kissed him. And besides the off-putting flavour of old smoke, it felt nice. Nice to be held, to be comforted, to be loved. But Vash still can't bring himself to comprehend everything at once.
Vash sits in silence, trying to piece every part together, slowly stitching his answer together. All he can think to say, or rather ask, is
"Why?"
"Huh? What d'ya mean why? Were you not listening or something?"
Vash stares up at the ceiling, afraid to make eye contact with Wolfwood, or rather nervous to.
"Why me of all people? You know who I am, you know what I've done, hell, you've seen me commit atrocities… so why me? I mean look at me, who could love this?"
"I could. And why not? Do I need a reason?" An almost saddened look dawns across Wolfwood’s face, realising just how emotionally reclusive and stubborn Vash can really be.
“I understand where you’re coming from, I do, you’ve got a lot going on up there, but believe me, I don’t want that cloudin’ your judgement. I wanna help you, Vash, so please let me. All of those terrible things you mentioned? I know they aren’t completely your fault, you’re not the only one to blame here. You can’t keep bashing yourself for things that ain’t your fault, okay?” Never in his life has Wolfwood felt more like a true confessional priest, and he has had his fair share of speakers. He knows it’ll be hard for Vash to agree with him, but he knows his efforts will be worth it, it’ll bring him back to his beaming self again. A faint smile spreads its way across Vash’s face, slowly but surely, Wolfwood is chipping away at this wall set up before him, finally reaching to where it matters.
“I know, I know, just got a guilty conscience, that’s all… Part of me feels bad for you, feels bad for making you feel the way you do-”
“You haven’t made me feel anything. I control how I feel, you haven’t forced anything. You couldn’t force anything if you tried, Vash, don’t kick yourself while you’re down. I feel the way I do about you regardless of what you’ve done, of what others have done to you. That’s how love works, Vash, I’m sorry you never learned this sooner, but I’m glad I was the one to tell you, y’know?” Wolfwood leans forward slightly, a wide smile, soft and sincere, lights up his face.
“How do you feel though? I do feel kinda bad for springin’ this all on you when you’re here for help… This is about you after all, so let me know. If the feeling ain’t there, is just ain’t, don’t force it out of pity…” He leans back, reeling in his debatable regret, almost feeling as if he took the focus from Vash when he seeked help.
"I dunno, honestly, Nick, I feel weird… not like a bad weird though, like there's this tightness in my chest… ‘m surprised, to say the least, especially with you of all people, not that I mean that rudely of course! Like I said, just surprised…” This causes Wolfwood’s stomach to sink to the bottom of his feet and below, flooding himself with guilt and embarrassment.
"This isn't a rejection though, not in the slightest, so please don't feel bad! Like ya said, just felt a bit sprung onto, but that's how it happens, right? I've got so much on my mind, and it's trying to all fit into place, everything feels like it is all happening at once and I can't grab hold of it al-"
Warmth seeps through Vash's bare skin again, blood prickling at the surface and washing him over with a pink hue that could only be described as cute. A warmth that bleeds from inside to out, but also a warmth that can be felt through Wolfwood's own skin too. The heat feels soft, comforting, and Vash feels at peace with this feeling, the mental block he had been suffering with before then clearing up right before him. And all of this done with a kiss. A kiss so warm and so incredibly soft yet passionate that surely Vash’s whole body could melt, feeling himself shake with nerves that run haywire. Something simply shuts off within his mind, letting Vash just feel the moment, letting himself give back all that he is given. For the first time in a long, long time, Vash truly feels what it is like to be loved, fully, wholeheartedly loved, and its warmth envelopes him like a blanket, relighting the kindling in his heart. He leans back, taking all of his weight on his arm, feeling the bristle of hair tickle the side of his face and the heat of breath against his skin as Wolfwood breathes deep. Vash feels himself physically melt, his arm slowly shaking as he leans further and further back, the softness and tender feeling of Wolfwood’s lips against his making his head spin, trying to ground himself by being aware of his surroundings. He lets his eyes close as he soaks in the feeling, his heart finally tearing down the guards he built himself and letting Wolfwood in.
Vash feels Wolfwood’s chest slowly rise and fall against his, the fabric of his vest grazing harshly against his partner’s suit jacket. He shakes his head quickly, but not hard enough to break their kiss, as his brain burns with images of slowly removing said jacket and throwing it to the floor. He didn’t realise just how much he felt for Wolfwood until those walls came crashing down. He lets himself go and kisses back, a small smile creeping across his face as his arm finally gives way, letting him fall onto his back, the pillow bouncing slightly off of the mattress as his head crashes against the down. The pressure of Wolfwood’s body against his sends Vash’s mind into a frenzy as his partner presses closer and closer, the warmth of his body almost positively glowing.
After what feels like an eternity simply melting into one another, Wolfwood slowly moves away, his eyes immediately making contact with Vash’s, a small smile creeping across his face as the light of the moons gently shines onto Vash’s face.
“You okay there, Tongari? Seem a little dazed to me” Wolfwood’s voice becomes gentle as he looks softly at Vash, watching as his partner’s face floods with the softest of pinks.
“I’m good… real good… a lil shaken but… all good,” Vash’s voice fails him, his words fading further into heaving breaths as he continues his attempt to speak, a tension building within his chest, threatening to snap and let him collapse at any given moment. “I didn’t know you…” Vash sighs as he pushes his head further back into the pillow beneath him, his mind torn to shreds, conflicted about his feelings.
“Always have, Spikey, don’t sweat the details, okay? Besides, this moment should be about you, eh? Let’s fix that” Wolfwood flinches gently as he feels that same piercing tension snap through his chest, gripping at his heart with an iron fist. He hates seeing Vash so torn up, and god knows if it were to do with him loving Wolfwood back or not letting himself feel the way he wants to out of fear, a guilt so dense would rain down on him like the judgement of God himself. The words linger in the air, taut soundless, a voiceless ‘I love you’ haunting the both of them.
“D’you think you could… do that again?” Vash creases slightly at his own request, his eyes showing a mix of embarrassment and… adoration. Still coming to understand his feelings, Vash’s head mixes with bittersweet feelings, making him seem almost distant.
“I can do you one better if you’d let me” A smile spreads across Wolfwood’s face, Vash’s eyes meeting his, discovering that same timid yet adoring shine in his eyes.
The tension hung in the air softens as the tight pain in Vash’s chest dissipates, seeing himself in Wolfwood, in his eyes, the smile of the man above him melting all weight off of his shoulders in an instant.
“I mean… if it is anything like before, I won’t be upset” Vash smiles, a soft, gentle smile, it suits his eyes, at least Wolfwood thinks so. The blue of his eyes cool, not cold, but cool, inviting, sweet, his smile only making his look all the warmer. Wolfwood could almost melt at the look, regaining his strength, his mind set on one thing and one thing only, making Vash as happy with himself as possible. Calloused hands gently handle the skin of an angel, sliding up his chest with the most fleeting of touches. Vash’s eyes widen as his mind scrambles to form a response, his pupils growing wide and his face glowing a faint, warm red.
“Where… are you going with this?” The cool air of the evening sends a chill through Vash’s skin, causing him to tense up, the definition and toning of his torso clearly visible, a small lump forming in Wolfwood’s throat as his eyes gaze over his body, his heart momentarily sinking. An expression of sympathy takes over as his focus shifts from one wound to another, mottled flesh sinking deep with patches of shining metal pulling him taut. Wolfwood’s gaze eventually works its way back up to meet Vash’s, his partner obviously tense, his nerves running haywire as the man he is coming to love sees him as he truly is.
“You deserve this, Vash, so don’t worry…” Wolfwood’s hand presses flat against Vash’s chest, the skin of his palm warm, matching the inviting look in his eyes. A smile, a true smile, a smile that reaches Vash’s eyes, a rare sight to say the least and it comforts Wolfwood more than anything else ever could. His hand slowly slides up to cup Vash’s cheek, sharing that warmth between them both emotionally and physically. Vash leans his head softly into Wolfwood’s palm, the rough parts of skin feeling so comforting for him, pressing his lips softly against his wrist. He lets himself relax as Wolfwood’s suit jacket and shirt fall to the floor with a soft sound, their shared body heat unravelling the worries from his mind. Any tension that remained in the air dissolves completely, the calming touch and contact of having someone, not just anyone, display such an adoration for him, Vash feels himself lower into the bed, flooded with comfort as Wolfwood lays himself atop him, like a blanket, enveloping and warming like no other. The embrace of strong arms pulls him close, as if holding him together, his body, his mind, his heart, Vash lets himself be strung together by the man he loves, the trappings of love feeling more comforting than anything he had ever experienced prior to the soft intimacy of this very moment. The two of them sigh in unison, the pressure of Wolfwood’s body on Vash’s own, the warmth of Vash’s coarse skin against Wolfwood’s, feeling as if the weight of the world had been relieved from their own, a fleeting, fading feeling is their anguish, the most soft and gentle breeds of love standing in its stead. Vash feels himself kneaded against Wolfwood’s hands, a touch so soft from hands so strong and rugged, a touch that reaches and handles the very depths of his soul. He melts beneath the man above him, sinking into the pressure, his mind finally freed of his torment, even if it is only temporary, Vash’s mind is finally cleared, lifted of that heavy, blinding fog.
Wolfwood eventually shifts his weight, placing his hands on either side of Vash’s head, their faces mere inches, causing Vash to tense up again.
“Relax, Blondie, you’re safe here” Wolfwood’s tone remains as soft as the very touch of his hands, his smile bashful, gentle, loving. He brushes the tip of his nose against Vash’s and laughs to himself, barely noticeable if you weren’t paying attention, but Vash’s focus never wavered from the man above him, his cheeks blooming with that familiar watercolour pink. After a while of simply existing in one another’s company, Wolfwood’s hands begin to wander, his touch feather light, across the plains of his partner’s chest, the evening air the perfect match of a comfortable warmth to share between the two, any warmer, or cooler, and the atmosphere would shift completely. Drifting along the landscape of his chest, Wolfwood takes extreme care in handling the raised, harsh tissue of each scar, holding the flesh with such emotional weight and such physical softness. As his hands move further down the body beneath him, Vash’s breathing slows to a comfortable pace, Wolfwood feeling the gentle rise and fall of his chest beneath his hands. His head moves beneath Vash’s, his nose grazing gently against the collarbone, his breath warm against the skin under him. He presses small kisses to the tight skin, feeling the detail of the bone, causing Vash to jump a little, startled at the sudden sign of intimacy.
“Hey, just what are you doing exactly?” Vash props himself up onto his elbows, but only shortly before he slumps back again, his head colliding with the pillows beneath, his arms unable to support the emotional weight of each perfectly applied kiss from his partner above him.
“Like I said, jus’ relax, don’t worry ‘bout me” Wolfwood laughs, shaking his head gently as he continues his path across Vash’s body, making sure not a single stretch of his skin goes unloved.
Vash’s expression of worry melts away as he clues into what Wolfwood was really getting at, catching on to his every movement, how he poured an almost excessive amount of love and gentle care into each brush with his scars, the drawn skin handled with the grace and care of an angel, he might as well consider the priest such with all he has done for him. He truly unwinds, embracing each and every kiss like it would be his last.
“I see now… thank you, Nico…” Vash’s voice wavers, not daring to cry again, the creasing of his eyes proving just how genuine his smile really is, and it makes Wolfwood’s heart soar. He simply smiles against Vash’s body and moves his way down his biceps, latching each kiss to the lip of his prosthetic, tenderly loving every inch of married skin and metal. The chill of the alloy warms swiftly under the soft skin of Wolfwood’s lips, the latched skin to the metal matching in warmth, creating a stark contrast that soon becomes a similar temperature, painting the pulled skin that same washed over pink that finds a home in Vash’s cheeks. He moves a hand to cover his mouth and the good majority of his face, flustered beyond belief as Wolfwood gravitates back to his chest, peppering each tense scar along his body with the softest flurry of kisses.
“You really don’t have to-” Vash’s words are swiftly cut short as his breath is stolen with Wolfwood latching himself onto a prominent gash in his hip, holding the protruding bones through the pulled skin like porcelain, handling him like the finest of china, a body made of a morbidly beautiful kintsugi. Wolfwood can only laugh, the stubble on his face softly scratching at Vash’s skin, coaxing a small laugh from him too.
“You know I do, blondie, you deserve every last one of these, so can it, ‘kay?” His lips pull into a smile as he makes his way back up to Vash’s chest, resting a hand on the thick metal plating on his left. His lips graze along Vash’s jawline, soft and smooth with every movement, his arms holding his body with such a warm tenderness, making his way to rest their foreheads together, the shine in Vash’s eyes meet Wolfwood’s softness. The smile in his eyes speaks more than any words Vash could ever express before closing softly as they kiss once more.
By this point, the moon shines a soft, milky white glow, the curtains billowing as the wind kicks up the loose dust from the windowsill, a small trail of smoke rising and fading from the ashtray. Wolfwood smiles as he embraces the gentle rise and fall of Vash’s chest as he slowly falls asleep. He knew it was bound to happen, one way or another, but the surrounding comfort of the deep evening’s glow and the warmth of the room creeps into the soul and wraps around the two of them like a blanket. He lights the tip of a crumpled cigarette, listening to the gentle breathing of his partner, making sure each smoky exhale passes Vash’s senses, not daring to wake him. He rests with a smile on his face as he sleeps, Wolfwood keeps his head balanced against his chest, calmed by the gentle thrum of his heart. He knows once the sun rises, each and every problem will burn away like the mist of the morning, and when his sun rises, he can feel his warmth again, the one that reaches the depths of his heart, the one that reaches that long lost child within him, the one that reaches Nico, not The Punisher, not Wolfwood, just Nico, the most sensitive and soulful parts of him. He sighs the last of the smoke out of his lungs, tapping the smouldering embers into the ashtray by the bedside, letting the last of the nicotine burn the back of his tongue before he lets himself truly melt into the warmth surrounding him. He looks up at Vash through his lashes, sound asleep, and he basks in the peace of the night, his heart tensing and burning all over again. He sighs with a smile, stubbing out the rest of his cigarette and nestling comfortably around Vash’s body, soaking in his warmth one final time before letting his mind and heart finally rest for the night.
The room remains still for the rest of the night until the first sign of daybreak, Wolfwood’s jacket crumpled on the floor beneath the chair, the sunlight catching the chipped crystal of the liquor glasses set still on the desk, no sound to be heard but the stillness of the day and gentle resonating of their breathing, unconsciously in unison. Like a still life painting, art captured within life, the two remain rested, Vash sound asleep with a smile and a clear mind, Wolfwood resting with a clear heart, both of the men finally at peace, finding that peace in one another at long last. Arm in arm and heart by heart, their comfort in eachother radiating more warmth than any sun, burning brighter too, and Wolfwood knows Vash’s true smile shines warmer than any sun, his sun.