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“That sure was a close one.” Vash says, slipping peace bringer back into its holster. He does a slow turn, taking in the damage done, the bounty hunters who had ambushed them out of nowhere all laying on the ground, all unconscious, bleeding from various wounds.
Wolfwood can only distantly hear Vash talking, everything sounds like it’s coming from underwater. He stands with the punisher supporting his entire weight, shaking legs barely keeping him upright.
He hates it when the serum hits like this. He’s never been able to figure out if it’s just a bad vial, his body not reacting quite as well as it should, or if it’s because he hasn’t had a decent meal in three days or a decent night's sleep, for that matter.
Whatever the cause, sometimes the vials leave him feeling like this, like a hollowed out shell of a man, adrenaline overloading his system asking him for more when he has nothing left to give.
His heart races, pounding hard against his ribs and his vision starts to waver at the edges, chemical forcing his body to heal, to fight, to react. His shaking legs finally give out, his knees hitting the sand, the punisher falling to the side. He’s not aware of much of anything outside of the feeling of his own breath and his racing heart, until Vash wanders into his line of sight, and then everything shifts into such sharp focus that it hurts.
He flinches as sharp ringing assaults his ears, his body aches springing to the forefront, particularly his belly, from which he had been bleeding out from not 5 minutes ago, but was now smooth and unmarred.
“Wolfwood?” Vash’s voice filters past the shrill ring, concern written all over his face, and Wolfwood can tell that he’s been trying to get his attention while he is… whatever he is right now.
The bitter taste of the serum is still on his tongue, sticking in the back of his throat, and it makes his stomach churn, nausea crawling its way up his spine.
Vash quickly assesses the situation, the blood staining Woflwood’s shirt with a distinct lack of wounds, and it’s not difficult to put the pieces of this particular puzzle together.
“You’re not feeling too great, huh?” Vash asks, crouching down to get a look at him, his skin looking more gray than anything else. He blinks slowly, and Vash isn’t even sure if he’s heard him speak.
“Nicholas?” Vash asks again, resting his hand over Wolfwood’s.
Wolfwood’s shallow breaths do nothing to alleviate any of the overwhelming feelings flooding his body. But Vash’s hand on his cuts through some of the onslaught, gives him something a little easier to focus on, to ground himself with.
He furrows his brow as he tries to process Vash’s question. He opens his mouth, any words lodging in his throat, stuck behind a tongue that feels too big for his mouth. The best he can do is shake his head, the ringing in his ears pitching up and down with the motion.
“Thought so,” Vash coos, rubbing his thumb over Wolfwood’s knuckles. He looks to the right and then to the left, surveying the area, formulating his plan. “Just sit tight for a minute, okay?”
As if Wolfwood could do anything else but that.
Vash steps away, out of his line of sight, and Wolfwood doesn’t have the energy to even turn his head and follow his movements. He just has to trust that Vash won’t let anything happen to him just because he’s like this.
The real scary thing is that he does.
Wolfwood’s vision tunnels in on the sand in front of him, everything around him fading out, overtaken by the sound of his own rushing blood and his heart still beating a sharp rhythm in his chest. He loses track of how long he sits there, hunched forward in the sand. His eyes must slip closed again at some point, feeling like he’s floating.
Vash draws him back again, pulling everything into focus with his voice, feeling as if he smashed back into his own aching body. He’s violently aware that he’s shaking, cold and shivering, even under the hot suns.
“Hey, Nick,” Vash says, crouching down again, his voice soft, like he’s speaking to a child. Wolfwood wants to be mad about it, he’s not a child, and he sure as hell doesn’t deserve to be treated that gently. Vash doesn’t give him the chance to argue. “Everything is ready to go, how’re you doing?”
Ready to go?
Wolfwood looks around, turning his head slowly, noticing now that the punisher is gone from his side and strapped into Angelina II. God, he hadn't even noticed that Vash took his weapon.
He really is out of it.
“Do you think you could walk?”
Wolfwood inhales a shaky breath, already knowing the answer to that question.
“No,” he rasps out, and it’s a monumental effort to just get that singular word out, his fingers twitching weakly against the sand.
“I kinda figured, that’s alright.”
It really wasn’t, but bless Vash for thinking it was. He shouldn’t have been so careless, he should have been paying more attention, he shouldn’t have needed the vial in the first place.
“I’ll help you, the bike is just a few steps away.”
Vash gets his arms under Wolfwood's, hefting him up. He only gets half way before the shift in his equilibrium is enough to tip his nausea over the edge. He pushes against Vash with more strength than he thought he had left, opening his mouth to tell him to wait, just give him a second, but bile, hot and acrid, rushes up his throat and he barely has time to turn away before he’s vomiting up the meager contents of his stomach into the sand.
And Vash is still there rubbing his hand up and down Wolfwood's back through each violent heave. He’s there to offer Wolfwood one of their canteens when he’s left panting and trembling, sagging back into Vash’s arms. He tries to take it with shaking hands, but when he misses the mark, Vash ends up holding it to his lips instead. He spits out the first small sip, to rinse the taste from his mouth, then gulps down a few mouthfuls.
“Ready to try again?”
Wolfwood can only nod, and pray that he has nothing left in him to throw up.
This time Vash gets his arm’s underneath Wolfwood, it’s under his back and behind his knees and he lifts Wolfwood into his arms. He thinks he’s okay this time, until Vash starts walking, the rocking motion making him dizzy. He closes his eyes and presses his face against Vash’s neck, twisting his fingers into the front of Vash’s coat. The whine that comes from deep within him would be embarrassing if he didn’t feel so awful.
“I’ve got you.” Vash murmurs as he gently lowers him to sit in the side car, rearranging his limbs to comfortably fit in the small space.
Wolfwood sighs, leaning back into the seat, curling in and holding himself stiffly, desperate to stop this god damned trembling. He expects Vash to start the bike and drive them away, what he doesn’t expect is for something warm to settle over his shoulders.
“There you go,” Vash says as he kneels next to the side car, fiddling with his coat that now resides over Wolfwood's shoulders, wrapped so that it doesn't slip down. “That’s a little better, right?”
It’s such a small thing, but that kindness, the warmth and safety that Wolfwood feels because of it, it’s almost too much. Surrounded by Vash, his eyes start to burn, as tears gather in the corners of his eyes.
“Oh, I almost forgot that I had one of these tucked away, too,” Vash says, triumphantly, producing a sucker from somewhere. He unwraps it and presents it to Wolfwood. “These usually help right?”
Wolfwood goes cross eyed looking at the bright blue candy in front of his face. Vash opens his mouth and sticks out his tongue before Wolfwood catches on, opening his mouth.
Vash puts the candy in his mouth and he closes his lips around the stick, the sugar tastes so sweet on his tongue. He hums his thanks, lets his eyes slip closed again, he hates that he can’t seem to keep them open.
“Sit tight, we’re actually pretty close to a town, I think.”
Wolfwood should be more worried about Vash driving Angelina II, but he can’t bring himself to care too much. The sugar helps a little but it doesn't last, but before long he feels himself crashing. He sinks back into the side car, and between the vibrations of the engine and the comfort and warmth of Vash’s scent around him, he drops into an uneasy slumber.
When Wolfwood blinks open heavy eyes, it’s to Vash’s hand gently tapping against his cheek.
“Hey, there you are.” Vash says, a smile on his face that doesn’t quite reach his eyes. “Got us a place to stay for the night.”
“Okay.” Wolfwood mumbles, missing Vash’s touch as soon as he pulls his hand away. He grabs the edge of the sidecar, and tries to pull himself up, only for Vash to grab him under the arms again, helping him to his feet.
“Easy,” Vash says, steadying him with an arm around his waist when he stumbles. “You’re alright.”
“I can walk now,” Wolfwood mutters, at least he thinks he does anyway, he’s not sure he actually gets the whole sentence out.
He must have gotten his point across, Vash doesn’t pick him up this time, just slings his arm around his shoulder. The walk to the room is taxing on his weakened state. What little strength he may have recovered on the ride is expended quickly. His head swims and his ears start ringing again.
Wolfwood’s only vaguely aware that they are going up stairs, Vash’s gentle coaxing keeps him going when he slows down. By the time they’re up the staircase, Wolfwood’s entire weight is supported by Vash, his knees threatening to buckle.
“Sorry.” Vash says quickly, before sweeping him back into his arms. “Just a little quicker this way.”
The room is already unlocked, thanks to Vash’s planning. Wolfwood is grateful because he knows that he wouldn’t even be able to stand right now. All he wants is to curl up in the dark room until this all passes.
The sight of the bed is like a boon, and when Vash walks past it with him still in his arms, he can’t stop the whine that spills past his lips.
“I know, I know,” Vash says with a frown. “But trust me, you’re going to want to get cleaned up before you lie down. You’re going to thank me later when you’re feeling better.”
Vash carries Wolfwood into the bathroom, a small thing that is barely big enough for one adult, let alone two, and deposits him on the lid of the toilet. He takes his coat from Wolfwood’s shoulders and leaves the room. Wolfwood immediately misses its presence, the chill of the tiny room has him trembling again by the time Vash comes back, crouching down between his legs.
Wolfwood wants to huff out a laugh that Vash has their meager first aid kit with him. He wants to tell him that he’s not going to need it. Instead it feels like a knife has been plunged into his chest, and it’s going to make him cry, that Vash care’s enough to grab it, just in case.
Vash pulls Wolfwood’s sunglasses from his face, folding them and setting them on the small sink.
“I’ll be quick, I know you want to lie down,” Vash says, unbuttoning Wolfwood’s blood stained shirt, slipping both shirt and jacket from his shoulders. The thin fabric of his shirt sticking to his torso, with the say it’s stiff with blood and sweat. “Are you feeling any better?” he asks tentatively.
“Not really, Spikes.” Wolfwood sighs, it’s the most he’s spoken in the last hour. But Vash seems happy to hear him talking, a little more lucid, so it’s worth the effort. He fails to suppress the flinch when Vash wipes over his stomach with an ice cold towel.
“Sorry, the water just wasn’t getting warm.” Vash explains, gently scrubbing the dried blood from Wolfwood's stomach, wiping over his chest, and up over his shoulders to clean the sweat from his skin. “I know this isn’t ideal, I owe you a bath, eventually.”
“S’not your fault.”
“I know, but still,” Vash whispers, sitting up on his knees to cradle Wolfwood’s face in one hand, gently wiping him clean with the other. Wolfwood let's Vash support the weight of his head, closing his eyes while Vash gently wipes away sweat and grime in soft, cool, strokes. “Almost done.”
“Feels nice…” Wolfwood sighs, letting his eyes close. He smiles, really smiles when Vash drops the cloth and pushes his hair back, combing his fingers through any knots so carefully. He suddenly feels so overwhelmed that he can be like this, and yet feel so completely safe and cared for in Vash’s hands. Tears build up in his eyes again, this time spilling over and down his cheeks.
“Nico,” Vash coos, and Wolfwood can hear the frown in his voice. “What’s wrong? Are you still hurt?”
”S’fine, not why m’ cryin’.” Wolfwood says. He is hurting, but that’s not the problem, the aches and pains are something he can deal with. The problem is that he doesn’t deserve the kind of care that Vash is giving him, but he’ll take it anyway.
He’s selfish like that.
Vash leans in close, kisses the bridge of his nose and thumbs away the tears from under Wolfwood’s eyes.
“What can I do?”
“You’re doin’ enough, sweetheart,” Wolfwood sniffles, pressing his forehead to Vash’s, just sharing the same air and the comfort of Vash’s touch, slow tears leaking from his eyes. “Just need some sleep, and maybe a big, greasy cheeseburger.”
“I think there’s a diner down the street.” Vash says, chuckling at the request. “I’ll go pick something up while you rest.”
“That sounds so good,” Wolfwood mumbles, wrapping his arms around Vash’s shoulders. “Take me to bed.”
Vash wraps his arms under Wolfwood’s thighs, lifting him up to carry across the room. He sinks into the lumpy hotel mattress, his body rejoicing at finally being horizontal. He nuzzles into the pillow as Vash pulls the blanket up over him.
Wolfwood stretches his legs out before pulling them back up to curl himself into a ball, eyes cracking open as Vash sits on the edge of the bed.
“Thanks, Vash.” Wolfwood sighs quietly, letting his eyes close again when Vash slips his fingers through his hair again, lips pulling into a lopsided smile when he feels Vash’s lips press a kiss to his temple.
“Don’t mention it, Nico.” Vash says. “I’ll be back soon, okay? Try to stay awake so you can eat something.”
“Mhmm,” Wolfwood hums. “I’m still ‘wake.”
But he’s out like a light before Vash even leaves the room.