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"Alright, let's get this over with."
Vash huffs at him with a smile and does the thing he always does when he connects with Plants—he leans forward to rest his hands and forehead on the glass tank and closes his eyes.
Just a normal day with Vash the Stampede, sneaking into a town's Plant facility.
Wolfwood smokes while waiting for Vash to finish. He avoids gazing at the two Plants as they communicate, giving them privacy even though he can’t listen—or even perceive—what kind of conversation they are having. Instead, he stares at the control panels running the place.
He hears Vash finish with a sigh and turns to him. Judging by the expression on his face, Vash gave more energy than usual looking at the sheen of sweat on his forehead. He’s also trying to hide the exhaustion by shooting him a smile. Wolfwood tsks around his cigarette.
“All set?”
Vash wipes the sweat on his face. “Yeah, let’s go.”
They make haste to leave the facility and the town. Wolfwood drives Angelina across the desert while Vash sleeps in the sidecar. Just before the twin suns disappear behind the horizon, Wolfwood stops near an area of rocks that will shelter them for the night. He nudges Vash awake and soon they set up camp, starting a small fire and laying out sleeping bags. After eating their rations, Vash goes back to sleep. Beside him, Wolfwood stays up longer, staring at the fire while finishing a smoke.
The peace is broken by a ring behind him. Meryl’s calling on the radio. Wolfwood strides to his motorcycle. Keeping his voice down, he answers the call.
“Good morning Shortie.”
“What it’s—” Meryl sputters on the other line. “Good evening to you too. How was the town you guys visited?”
Wolfwood paces a couple of steps outside the camp’s perimeter, not waiting to wake up Vash. “Zero incidents.”
“Great! Seems like both of you are on your best behaviours.”
Wolfwood grins. “We’re always on our best behaviours.”
“Yeah well, debatable.” Meryl's tone turns serious. “By the way, as much as I like checking in to make sure both of you are not causing any scenes, there’s a report of a Plant malfunctioning.”
Wolfwood doesn’t like where this is going.
“And?”
“And it’s serious. Vash would need to check on it tomorrow.”
Wolfwood scowls. Healing one Plant already puts Vash in danger, needing to sleep for about a day—give or take—to rest after giving his energy to his kin. Healing two Plants back to back could put Vash out of commission, risky if they get caught by unfriendly folks.
Both Wolfwood and Meryl know they can’t persuade Vash not to go through with it.
Wolfwood sighs. “I’ll let him know.”
“Alright, I’ll tell you where the town is.”
Wolfwood shares where they are camping for the night and Meryl tells him the Plant is about three hours north. Both say their goodbyes.
“Please be careful and take care of him,” Meryl says with vaguely concealed concern.
“That’s what I do best. Have yourself a goodnight missy and tell big girl I said ‘hi.'”
Meryl snorts and cuts the line.
Wolfwood makes his way back to the campsite. Placing the radio on Angelina, he squats beside Vash, who is awake and groggily rubbing his eyes.
“Was that Meryl?” Vash stifles a yawn.
“Yeah, told me she was proud that we’re not causing any scenes.”
Vash hums, “Hope it stays that way since we have another town to go to tomorrow.” Vash turns towards Wolfwood expecting him to protest but doesn’t receive any. “Meryl told you already?”
Wolfwood fishes out another cigarette from his pocket and lights it. “Yep, and both of us are not thrilled about it. I’m not gonna waste my breath telling you not to go.” He takes a drag
Vash’s expression turns somber. “I can’t ignore someone calling for help,” he whispers.
Yeah, well, I can’t ignore it if some random bastard shoots at you after saving the whole town.
Wolfwood exhales smoke instead of voicing his thoughts.
Vash senses them and lets out a, "Sorry."
Wolfwood pokes Vash between his brows. "Stop being mopey, I'm allergic to it," Vash whines I'm not being mopey. Wolfwood pulls away. "You can thank me later once I carry your ass tomorrow."
Vash glowers at him for a moment. Then, he grins and wraps his arms around his neck. "You're so nice to me," he croons.
Wolfwood flushes at the closeness. He pinches Vash's side and he yelps away. “Go back to sleep so you can help your little friend tomorrow.” He stands, but not without ruffling Vash’s hair. Vash whines at the mess of his hair and attempts to flatten his spikey hair, shooting a pout his way. Wolfwood ignores him with a grin.
Vash settles back into his sleeping bag while Wolfwood climbs into his own. Within minutes, Vash is snoring. Wolfwood looks up at the stars, thinking about tomorrow’s errand.
A part of him wishes Vash would listen and not go. Not put his life on the line and maybe wait a day or two. With a sigh, Wolfwood closes his eyes and mentally prepares for tomorrow: get in the town, heal the Plant, and leave without notice.
Come morning, Wolfwood lets Vash sleep in a bit longer while he packs their camping gear and sets up his motorcycle. He pokes Vash awake, who mumbles a tired should’ve woke me up, and wrangles him into the sidecar. Turning on the engine, they set off.
No incidents getting into town and the building the Plant resides in. Only a few folks gave them a look as they made their way to a desolate part of the town where the Plant was located. Wolfwood thinks no one gave them a double-take so this mission should be a piece of cake.
Keyword: Should.
Vash does his thing and Wolfwood turns away. Wolfwood listens to the whirls of the machines around them as he waits. He’s fiddling with his lighter when he hears a groan to his right. Vash is struggling, and failing, to stay standing. Wolfwood reaches out and catches him with an arm behind him before he hits the floor.
“Whoa there.”
Slumped back on arm, Vash eyes are closed and his features are pinched with exhaustion. His Plant markings are glowing.
Pretty.
Wolfwood looks up at the Plant tank and watches the being inside gaze at Vash with concern.
Wolfwood brushes Vash’s fringe. “Spikey wake up.”
Vash whines as his very short nap is interrupted and flutters his eyes open, seeing Wolfwood above him. His eyes glow in tandem with the markings across his face.
Vash rubs his face. “Is she okay?”
Wolfwood spares a glance at the Plant. “I think she’s asking you that.”
Vash sits up—with the help of Wolfwood—and places a hand on the glass tank. The Plant does the same. A silent moment passes between them until Vash pulls away.
“Let’s go,” he says, markings fading away.
Keeping an arm around his waist, Wolfwood lets Vash lean on him as they leave the facility. It’s quiet as they walk, except for Vash’s laboured breaths. Then, good fortune stops there when they hear a shout.
“There he is!”
Fuck.
“Fuck,” Wolfwood curses, wiping his head in the direction of the shout. A few iles behind him, two men are running towards them. They look like townspeople, not bounty hunters.
Shit, shit, shit.
Vash, the poor guy, perks up from his grogginess and panics when bullets pelt the sand.
“Look alive Spikey,” Wolfwood grunts, coaxing him to start running, pulling him by the wrist.
Vash stumbles into a run. “What’s going on?”
“Some less-than-friendly people in this town!”
Wolfwood does a sharp turn into an alleyway. They make it to the other end of the narrow space. Wolfwood makes a quick left just as they reach the end of it but is greeted by an audience.
“Stop right there!”
Wolfwood freezes, staring at the end of a shotgun and pushes Vash behind him, standing in the line of fire. Three men surround them, each with their own gun. One is raised and Wolfwood eyes the man—a kid, just barely an adult, trigger-happy from the way he’s smirking. The two men that were chasing them catch up and approach them, becoming a total of five. He turns his gaze at the man in charge of this posse and tsks. Vash clings to his back.
“We’re collecting his bounty, step aside.”
Wolfwood doesn’t move. He gives his best fake grin. “We’re just passing through, we’ll be on our way.”
The man squints at him. “We saw you heading towards the Plant. What did you do?” Wolfwood wipes the smile off his face.
Vash decides it’s his turn to speak. Smiling anxiously, he steps around Wolfwood and raises his hands. “You’re Plant was having issues right? I’m an engineer. I checked up on it and everything should be alright now.”
The men glare at him after saying that and Vash shrinks in on himself.
“Who told you that?!” the man shouts.
“We—” Vash steps forward and that’s close enough for the antsy kid.
Wolfwood sees the shot before it comes. He shoves Vash away and takes bullets to the chest—his lungs. Vash yelps in surprise and staggers back to his side. Wolfwood stumbles from the force of the bullets but steels himself against the burst of pain, standing and glaring at the men who gape at him. Bleed trickles down his chest and he coughs, blood crawling up his throat. He not going to stand for much long.
“Please,” he hears Vash beg, “we’re not looking for trouble. He needs medical attention.”
Medical attention my ass. Wolfwood reaches for one of his vials but the asshole is shoving the gun in his face, looking to take another shot. He snarls at the guy. There’s not much time until the lungs fill with blood. It’s crawling up his throat, urging him to gag.
Vash needs to get out of here.
A cough punches out of him, and many more, bringing him to his knees as he chokes on blood. The Punisher falls with a thud on the sand and Vash catches him before his knees hit the ground. Wolfwood wheezes, vision blurring from the mixture of pain in his lungs and not getting enough air.
“Wolfwood, Wolfwood.”
Hand on his cheek, Vash turns his head towards him. Bright blue eyes on the verge of tears.
“Go. Leave,” Wolfwood mumbles with the blood in his mouth. Vash may stand a chance with these guys in his current state but not without serious injuries, adding to the scars on his body. With the vials, Wolfwood can keep himself alive and make a distraction long enough for Vash to escape.
Vash’s eyes widen; he shakes his head. “And leave you?” he whispers, looking heartbroken from getting told to leave.
Wolfwood’s mouth would’ve gone dry if there wasn’t blood in it. Instead, he slumps against Vash.
“Let him go Typhoon.”
A growl rumbles deep within Vash at the man’s words, attention turning towards the group. The sound grows and every point where Vash is touching him suddenly turns hot. The air around them shifts and Wolfwood feels something else wrap around him along with Vash’s arms. He hears the men shout and multiple shots are fired but they don’t land on Wolfwood. Instead—opening his eyes—they land on Vash’s wing, protectively curled around him.
Vash spawned his wings. One of them blocks his view of the men. He’s only able to look up at Vash, who is bearing his fangs and Plant lines paint his skin.
Vash then gathers him up and Wolfwood blacks out from the maneuver aggravating the bullets inside his chest. He comes back around on a hardwood floor in an abandoned building. He mindlessly pats himself down to search for a vial but someone swats his hand away. Wolfwood groans, frustrated, and coughs up blood.
“It’s okay, I got it,” a voice soothes him
He hears a familiar sound of glass breaking, and then a hand behind his head tilts his chin up. Wolfwood musters the strength to keep his mouth open. He expected only liquid to touch his mouth, not another pair of lips on his own. Heart skipping a beat, Wolfwood flinches but Vash keeps him still as he feeds him the blue substance.
This isn’t what he envisioned his first kiss with Vash would be like.
Wolfwood swallows the vial’s contents and Vash pulls away. Turning on his side, he coughs out his lungs as his body goes through the motions of healing itself and forcing the bullets out. He shivers through the unpleasant aftershocks of the drug. Catching his breath, Wolfwood processes the kiss, making his face burn. He sits up on his haunches and brushes it off—it didn’t mean anything, desperate times call for desperate measures.
“Spikey, you could’ve let me drink the vial like a normal person—” he stops when he turns to look at Vash. Squinting across the dim room, he sees Vash sitting in the far corner, hiding behind his wings.
Ah, his brain supplies, catching up on how they escaped. Vash scared the men away using his Plant powers out in the open.
Wolfwood crawls in front of Vash. “Vash.”
The wings shift and Vash’s face peeks through the tendrils. He’s crying. Wolfwood reaches out but stops as Vash flattens himself further against the wall.
“Hey, hey, what’s wrong?”, he drops his tone to a whisper.
Behind the wings, Vash mumbles, “I’m sorry.”
“None of that. We’re okay now.”
Vash whines. “But you—”
“It doesn’t matter.”
“Yes, it does!” The wings bristle. They move away and Vash’s distressed features come into view. “You got hurt because of me.”
“Just buy me a drink and we’re even,” Wolfwood attempts to jest.
It’s the wrong thing to say from the way Vash’s bottom lip trembles. He leans forward and touches Wolfwood’s chest with his flesh hand, where there’s dried blood from his now-healed wounds.
“I had to scare them away,” he blurts, “I didn’t know what else to do. You were hurt.” Vash’s eyes fill with tears and he furiously rubs them away.
“C’here.” Wolfwood reaches out again, not deterred by Vash flinching away, and pulls him against his chest with an arm around him and a hand in his hair. “It’s okay.”
Vash clutches him as he stifles his sobs, wings rustling anxiously behind him. Wolfwood slides his hand to one of the wings and they still. He guides it around him, settling it on his back. The other wing soon follows and Vash pulls him closer with them. Wolfwood scratches his scalp as he settles down to sniffling.
They need to leave this town before the men come back with reinforcements.
Wolfwood pulls away to stand and Vash whines at the loss. Looking around, he spots the Punisher off to the side. Securing one of its belts over his shoulder, Wolfwood drapes Vash’s arm around him and lifts him. Wolfwood secures an arm around Vash’s waist, mindful of his wings that are gradually dissolving back inside him. Heaving a breath, Wolfwood carries Vash’s weight and they make their way to Angelina, staying out of sight in back alleys.
Reaching his motorbike, Wolfwood carefully places Vash in the sidecar. He turns away but is stopped by a tug on his slacks. Turning back, he sees Vash’s forlorn gaze, obscured slightly by his fringe. Wolfwood swipes the locks of hair to the side.
“Gonna get you outta here,” Wolfwood reassures.
Vash reluctantly lets go and slumps down. Wolfwood pets his hair to placate him, which Vash pushes up against his hand. Reluctantly pulling away, Wolfwood straddles Angelina and high-tails out of the town.
Wolfwood needs to find the nearest town where Vash can rest. He waits a bit for Vash to doze off before ringing up Meryl on the radio. It takes a minute for her to answer.
“Wolfwood! Are you and Vash alright?”
Wolfwood glances at Vash’s sleeping form. Moments of the past hour flash in his mind—getting shot, Vash scaring off the townfolks, Vash kissing him the vial fluid. He clears his throat.
“Hey Shortie, got banged up but nothing we can’t handle. Vash is not doing too hot so I need you to tell me where is the nearest town with a decent inn.” He tries to even his voice not to give away any indication that they got more than just banged up.
Meryl senses he’s hiding something anyway. “What happened?”
Wolfwood bites back the grit in his voice. “It’s a story for another day. Vash needs to rest.”
He hears Meryl sigh on the other line. Milly’s voice is audible in the background as Meryl shuffles through papers that Wolfwood can assume she’s looking for a map.
“Head east. The nearest town is two hours away.” She sighs. “Please be careful.”
The corner of Wolfwood’s lifts into a half-hearted smile. “Will do. Thanks.” He cuts the line.
Revving up the engine, Wolfwood turns the bike eastwards and speeds across the desert. The ride is silent except for the motor. Until Vash violently wakes up an hour into the journey.
The only warning Wolfwood gets is the bike canting to the side and Vash’s letting out a gasp. Wolfwood snaps his head to look at Vash and sees him in distress and trying to get off the bike. Cursing, Wolfwood stomps on the break to avoid eating sand and cutes the engine. He jumps off the bike and shoves Vash’s shoulders down to sit.
“Vash!”
Vash’s Plant markings are burning brighter than before while his skin is truly burning under Wolfwood’s fingers, running a fever. His eyes shift in panic as he stares up at Wolfwood, breathing heavily from whatever dream he had. Vash squirms under his hold.
Wolfwood cups his cheeks instead—burning. “Hey, it’s okay, no one is here.”
Vash stares at him, blinking. His squirming stops.
“You’re okay.”
Vash's lips wobble and he grasps the front of Wolfwood’s shirt.
“Wolfwood?” Vash sniffles.
Wolfwood smiles in relief. “Hey, Spikey.”
Vash gives him a miserable look, eyes watery. “Sorry for making you stop.”
Wolfwood thumbs the tear that falls down his cheek. “Don't want you falling out. We’re an hour away from the nearest town, then you’ll be able to rest.”
Nodding, Vash struggles to manage a small smile.
Wolfwood pulls away and sets off. A heavy weight settles on Wolfwood's thigh and he turns to see Vash leaning on him, eyes closed. Wolfwood indulges in brushing his fingers through Vash’s blond locks and turns towards the reddening horizon ahead.
An hour passes without incident. Wolfwood pulls up to an inn on the outskirts of the town and turns off the engine. With a hand in his hair, Wolfwood coaxes Vash to wake up, whose head is still resting on his leg. Vash trills softly at the contact. Wolfwood touches his forehead; still running a high fever.
"I'll go get a room. Wait here," Wolfwood whispers.
Vash nods with his eyes closed, head lifting to let Wolfwood off. He slumps in his seat and lowers his head to his chest.
Wolfwood quickly changes into a clean shirt—don’t want anyone staring—and enters the inn and pays for two nights. Vash will need it. Heading back to his bike, he sees Vash in the same position as he left him. Wolfwood grabs the Punisher, pulling the belt over his shoulder, and their travel bags. He gently wakes up Vash again.
Vash mumbles something under his breath and slowly rises. He stumbles getting out of the sidecar but Wolfwood catches him under his arm and pulls him to his side. An arm around his waist, Wolfwood hauls Vash and their stuff to their room. After struggling to unlock the door (he only has so many hands), Wolfwood exhales in relief upon entering the room. Dropping the bags and the Punisher on the floor, Wolfwood sits Vash down on the sole bed.
Wolfwood makes quick work unfastening the buttons and belts on Vash’s clothes, removing the layers that have patches of dirt and dried blood—Wolfwood’s blood—a reminder about what happened hours ago. Vash lets him change his clothes into fresh joggers and a T-shirt without a complaint, slowly nodding off. Wolfwood reaches for his prosthetic but Vash pulls his arm away, shaking his head. Huh.
Vash may not realize it but Wolfwood noticed he keeps his prosthetic on while sleeping when they are spending the night out in the desert or after things go south. Right now it's the latter. Whether it’s from feeling insecure without it or anxious that someone is going to jump them while vulnerable or maybe both, Wolfwood doesn’t know.
Wolfwood doesn’t say anything.
He helps Vash settle back against the pillow and pulls the bedsheet over him, tucking it under his chin. Taking off his sunglasses and chucking them on the nightstand, Wolfwood grabs a chair and drags it next to the bed, resting his arms on the backrest—like a guardian. Curling on his side, Vash looks at him blearily in his pitiful state, shivering from the fever.
Wolfwood leans over to brush back Vash’s hair from his face. “Sleep,” he murmurs.
For a moment, Vash stares at him with an emotion swimming in his eyes that makes Wolfwood still. He thinks Vash is a second away from crying but Vash lets out an exhale and shuts his eyes. Wolfwood lets out his own exhale, in relief—Vash is finally getting the rest he desperately needs. He will be back to his usual self in a day or two.
Settling on the chair, Wolfwood falls asleep.
A few hours later, he startles awake to his name being called. Eyes flying open, he scans the room—no danger—and his eyes land on Vash. He’s whimpering in his sleep, face pinched in pain.
“Vash,” he calls.
Vash shudders and his eyes open. With eyes half-lipped, he looks at him, dazed. Wolfwood sits on the bed and leans over him, feeling his sweaty forehead.
“You alright?”
Something in Vash’s gaze shifts. With Wolfwood hovering above him, Vash wraps his arms around his neck and pulls him closer. Wolfwood braces his arms beside Vash’s head and freezes.
"Vash?"
“Wolfwood,” Vash whispers, and kisses him.
Wolfwood’s mind blanks. He doesn’t move while Vash’s hands tangle in his hair and his lips move against his. Before his brain catches up to his body, Vash pulls away and noses his temple. The contact tickles his nerves and spreads throughout his body. Wolfwood’s reddens at the sudden display of affection he’s receiving.
Then, Vash puffs out a sigh and goes lax, back asleep. Wolfwood gapes.
What the fuck.
He can’t believe it. Is he the one dreaming? Was it an accident? Does Vash know about his feelings? No, his brain responds, he's certain he didn't give himself away. Vash isn’t well and must have needed some comfort after today’s events.
It likely doesn’t mean anything.
Wolfwood shifts to get off the bed but Vash’s arms are still around him. Huffing silently, he decides to settle himself beside him. His nerves are frayed from where they are touching Vash (his whole side and shoulders) and from the kiss.
He isn’t sure if he can sleep like this until the feeling of a comforting presence beside him pulls him under.
Morning comes and he’s thrown for a loop again when Vash isn’t beside him.
Wolfwood panics, thinking Vash ran away—does he remember what he did last night?—until the bathroom door happens and he locks gazes with him.
“Good morning!” Vash chirps. “Thought I’d take a shower since I woke up sweaty.” Steam pours out of the bathroom behind him. He's wearing fresh clean clothes.
Does he remember?
Wolfwood swallows back an embarrassed cough, trying to feign he wasn’t just freaking out. "Right, I'll do that too," he mutters.
Vash smiles—Wolfwood doesn't find any strain in it. "I left some warm water."
Mumbling out a thanks, Wolfwood passes by him and enters the bathroom. He closes the door. Alone, he hides his red face behind his hands and muffles a groan. So Vash doesn't know that he kissed him judging by his nonchalance. Wolfwood isn’t going to mention anything, he'd rather take it to the grave than say hey by the way you kissed me while you were delirious, did it mean anything? Embrassing. He will keep his pining to himself.
Taking a deep breath, he takes off his shirt and drops it off to the side. He turns to the toilet seat, expecting a clean pair of clothes on it. Right, he forgot to get them. Sighing, Wolfwood opens the door.
“Forgot to get my—” He freezes when he comes face to face with a crying Vash, who is startled by Wolfwood's abrupt emergence. "Clothes." Wolfwood finishes.
Vash looks at him wide-eyed from where he is sitting on the bed hugging his knees. Wolfwood is just as startled at Vash’s distress.
“Spikey?”
Vash quickly stands up after the initial shock and wipes the tears from his face. “Ah, sorry, don’t worry about it,” he dismisses, voice wobbly.
Don't worry about it?
Wolfwood strides over to him, his embarrassment forgotten. Vash flinches and turns away, still scrubbing his face with his back facing him.
“What’s wrong?” he asks. Why is he crying?
Vash hiccups, “Nothing is wrong, I’m just tired! Y'know, because of healing the Plants.”
Wolfwood grabs Vash’s shoulder—who flinches—to turn him around and look him in the eye. Up close, it’s clear that Vash is not tired and instead, looks scared. Guilty even.
He's lying. “This isn’t nothing. Tell me what’s wrong.”
Conflicted, Vash bites his lip and avoids his gaze. He doesn’t want to tell him. Wolfwood reaches up and tips Vash’s head to connect their eyes.
“Vash.”
As if Wolfwood caused him great pain, fresh tears pool in his eyes and he rips his head away from his hand, breaking eye contact. Then something in Wolfwood’s head clicks and he inhales sharply.
“You remember.”
Vash heaves and looks at him in distraught, pretty much confirming his suspicions. It doesn’t explain why he’s crying hysterically as if Wolfwood was going to kill him for doing that.
“I’m really, really sorry,” Vash babbles. “I don’t know what came over me. It won’t happen again, I promise.”
Wolfwood frowns, he would much rather for it to happen again. “Vash, I’m not mad, there’s nothing to worry about.”
Vash looks at him in disbelief. “Yes, there is! I made things weird—I forced myself onto you when you aren’t even interested. I—”
“Hold on, what do you mean I’m not interested?”
Vash stares with his mouth open. Then grimaces. “You don’t need to spare my feelings. I can handle rejection.”
The densest idiot on this planet.
“What the fuck are you talking about? I like you.” Wolfwood wills away the blush crawling up his neck at admitting his feelings. He wished it was under different circumstances but whatever.
Instead of seeing a shock or a relieved expression, Vash’s expression twists into one of anger.
“Wolfwood, I’d appreciate it if you stopped making this harder for me than it already is.”
Wolfwood gapes. Oh my god, he doesn’t believe me. He pinches the bridge of his nose to avoid strangling him.
“Vash, you’re the one making this harder. I’m being serious.”
“No, you don’t understand.” Vash's voice wobbles. He turns away and paces to the middle of the room, balling his hands into fists. “I’m gonna take a walk.”
Wolfwood is not going to let him run away from this. Spurring into action, Wolfwood darts to Vash, grabbing him by the biceps and pinning him against the door before he can open it.
"Would you listen to me!? I’m telling you I feel the same way!" Wolfwood hisses, at his wit's end.
Vash twitches in his hold, grimacing at being manhandled. “I don’t want to talk anymore.”
He’s running away.
“Vash,” Wolfwood starts. “If you want to take our relationship further I'm all for it,” he enunciates, hoping to get his message across.
Vash’s gaze flickers past his shoulders, eyes wild. "No, you don't—how can you like me?” He swallows. “You don’t know what you’re talking about.”
Wolfwood bristles at the way Vash is demeaning his words, anger rising from his hardheadedness. Who the fuck does he think he is telling me—
His anger quickly evaporates when Vash's expression changes, to one of defeat, with shoulders sagging. Tears form in his eyes again and silently fall. Realization hits Wolfwood, understanding Vash’s stubborn denial.
After decades of running from violence, from humans, Vash doesn’t know what affection looks like nor believe he would receive any. He would’ve stayed quiet rather than say anything about how he felt—only coming out last night while vulnerable. Selfless in not burdening anyone with his thoughts and keeping everyone at arm’s length.
Wolfwood grasps Vash’s shaking hands. Raising his flesh hand, Wolfwood presses Vash's palm over his bare chest, over his heart.
"Look at me and tell me I'm lying," Wolfwood murmurs, staring at Vash.
Vash squares his jaw, looking off to the side and avoiding his gaze. Wolfwood resists the urge to roll his eyes, committed to being patient and letting Vash decide what to do next. Vash trusts him enough to know when he’s telling the truth so he’s letting Vash see for himself.
Wolfwood hovers his other hand near Vash's face, displaying his intentions. Vash doesn’t acknowledge it nor does he pull away so Wolfwood touches his cheek. The only reaction he gets is Vash biting the inside of his cheek. Wolfwood wipes the tear from Vash’s eyelid with a thumb. Vash chews on his lip at that.
Fidgeting under his stare, Vash flickers his gaze at Wolfwood’s chest where his palm is resting. The hand twitches under Wolfwood’s grasp and so he lets go in favour of placing his hand on Vash’s other cheek, holding both sides of his face. Vash’s palm stays where it is, fingers splayed.
Something in Vash’s gaze changes when he raises his prosthetic arm to graze along Wolfwood’s collarbones. Then his eyes lift to meet Wolfwood’s eyes. Wolfwood can see how tired he looks, still not fully rested. He looks across Wolfwood’s face, searching for something. And Vash does find something when he inhales sharply, hands clutching onto him rather than simply resting. Vash’s features turn to panic and Wolfwood startles. Wolfwood opens his mouth to ask what’s wrong again but Vash beats him to it.
“Oh, Wolfwood I’m so sorry,” Vash hiccups.
Wolfwood’s heart drops, what does that mean—
Vash continues babbling, “I’m sorry I said those things to you. I believe you.” With eyes glistening, his gaze meets Wolfwood’s head-on, no longer avoiding him.
Wolfwood spreads his fingers to graze the sides of Vash’s head, thumbs sweeping across his cheeks. “It’s okay, I’m right here.”
Vash shakes in his hold as he lets out a sob. “You didn’t deserve that—I didn’t mean to make your feelings seem like they were nothing.” He catches his breath. “Are you sure you want…”
Wolfwood hushes him, leaning forward to rest his forehead on Vash’s. “Yes, I want you.”
Vash looks down, shy. Wolfwood pulls away slightly to give him some space and brushes Vash’s fringe away from his face.
“Since everything is out in the open, I can tell you how pretty you look whenever I want.”
Flushing, Vash lifts his gaze and reddens more when he sees Wolfwood’s serious expression. “I…don’t know about that. My scars aren’t pretty,” Vash stutters.
“You’re pretty. Scars won’t scare me away.”
Wolfwood kisses the corner of his eye that has Vash’s letting out a shaky sigh. He noses down his cheek and stops near his mouth. Vash jerks his mouth closer, exhaling on his lips but not quite touching. Wolfwood tilts forward and presses a chaste kiss on Vash’s lips.
Third time’s a charm.
Vash clutches his shoulders, pushing forward into the kiss. Wolfwood scratches his scalp with his nails, holding him close. Vash tilts his head and clumsily tries licking inside his mouth but misses and licks his chin instead, likely due to fatigue. Wolfwood chuckles. Vash whines, “I’m tired,” and hides his face in his shoulder.
Wolfwood slides his hands down Vash’s sides and smiles into his hair. “Okay, let's get you back to bed.”
Wrapping his arms around him, Wolfwood steps backwards to the bed, pulling Vash along with him, and falls back on the sheets. Vash lets out an oof and settles on top of his chest. Wolfwood taps his prosthetic arm, asking to take it off, and Vash holds it up for him. Placing the arm on the nightstand, Wolfwood reclines against the pillow. Vash sinks his head in the space between his shoulder and neck.
“Don’t you need to shower,” Vash mumbles into his neck.
“Later,” Wolfwood hums. “Do I smell bad?”
Vash shakes his head, whispering not to me, and buries further into his neck. Wolfwood slides a hand up his back, pulling out a content purr from him. Vash is asleep within minutes. Wolfwood rests a cheek on top of his head.
With a hand combing through blond locks, he stays.