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When Vash bites into a hard piece of bread, he feels a sharp pain shoot up his gums. He flinches back, drawing the bread away from his mouth and tongues his teeth, searching which tooth is throbbing. His left canine is loose. Damn. The punch he got yesterday at the bar might have loosened it.
In front of him, Wolfwood notices he’s stopped eating. “What’s up? Not hungry anymore?”
“No.” Vash continues to press his tongue into his canine. “My tooth is loose.”
Wolfwood snorts. “Didn’t think that guy gave you that hard of a punch for how drunk he was.”
Vash doesn’t think so either. The tooth must have been ready to come out, ready to regrow a new one—a normal thing for him, with all things considered of being a Plant.
So he shrugs, continuing to eat his breakfast, avoiding the left side of his mouth. He’ll wait until it’s ready to come out.
Days later finds Vash miserable waiting for the tooth to fall out on its own, gums inflamed from accidentally brushing the incisor. He whines to Wolfwood, dropping his head onto his shoulder like a wilted flower. It compels Wolfwood to run a hand through his hair, hoping to soothe him but it doesn’t help much. Vash can’t eat without the pain shooting up his mouth. Smiling hurts and sleeping is a struggle when his mouth throbs.
Wolfwood keeps giving him a look every time he whines.
“You good?” Wolfwood asks, concerned after the fifth whine.
“Yes,” Vash hisses with tears prickling his eyes. He shoves spaghetti in his mouth and slowly chews.
Wolfwood raises a brow but doesn’t comment further.
It takes Vash another day of misery until he’s had enough. He needs to rip the tooth out. Vash goes crying to Wolfwood.
“Please, please, take my tooth out,” Vash begs with hands and knees on the inn floor.
Wolfwood, who’s also on the floor cleaning the Punisher, is caught off guard at the request. His automatic response is, “Hell no.”
Vash feels tears of frustration cloud his eyes. He clings to Wolfwood’s bicep. “Please! It will take two seconds!”
Wolfwood scrunches up his nose in disgust at the idea of pulling out a tooth. Vash is about to beg some more but Wolfwood relents.
“Fine. You owe me one,” Wolfwood grumbles.
Vash hauls Wolfwood into a hug, crying in relief. “Drinks on me for a whole week!”
Wolfwood pats him on the back. “Yeah, yeah, go sit on the bed,” he grumbles. Honestly, hearing Vash whine constantly was getting pretty sad.
Vash scrambles to sit on the bed while Wolfwood puts the last piece of the Punisher back on. Leaning it against the wall, he walks over to Vash.
Wolfwood gestures with a wave of his hand. “Alright, open up.”
Vash opens his mouth wide, lips pulling back to show teeth. Wolfwood bends down and takes a good look.
He’s seen Vash’s sharp canines when he smiles wide or laughs hard but not this close and personal. Wolfwood has felt them on his skin and tongue, only a graze of their sharp edges. Vash doesn’t make much use of them besides eating.
The top incisors are longer than the bottom ones. Looking closer, his molars and front teeth are sharper than a human’s. It’s like looking into a beast’s mouth, the set of teeth can easily tear into him. Wolfwood is glad Vash is relatively harmless and doesn’t have violent tendencies.
An intrusive thought enters his mind: how would they feel on his skin?
The gums surrounding the top left incisor are inflamed, nerves stubbornly hanging onto the loose tooth. Wolfwood lightly touches it, feeling it give against his finger. Vash exhales hotly against his hand, whining at the back of his throat from the ache.
Wolfwood clears his throat. “I’ll get tweezers from the med kit.” He quickly rummages through their travel bags, finding the med kit. Taking out the tweezers and pieces of cotton, he returns to stand in front of Vash.
Wolfwood places a hand on the back of Vash’s head. “Okay, move your head back.”
Vash tilts his head backwards, mouth open at an angle. Wolfwood keeps him steady.
Wolfwood lets out a breath. “On the count of three.”
Vash does a small nod. Wolfwood grasps the tooth between the tweezers.
“One.” Wolfwood tightens his grip on the tweezers. Vash holds his breath.
“Two.” He rips out the tooth on the count of two—Vash did say it would take two seconds.
Vash lets out a cry. Wolfwood pulls away before Vash can slap a hand to his mouth. He pushes cotton balls into Vash’s hands to soak up the blood.
Wolfwood examines the tooth he pulled out. The sharpness is intriguing but also a little off-putting. It’s also gross. He throws it away in the garbage and washes the tweezers in the bathroom while Vash cringes in pain.
With the tweezers put away, Wolfwood turns to glance at Vash. His head is still holding his mouth, head hanging low.
Wolfwood cards his fingers into Vash’s hair. “Oi, are you okay?”
Vash bobs his head. “...yeah.” He draws the cotton away from his mouth, soaked with blood. “That hurt.”
Wolfwood thinks about the empty space in Vash’s mouth. “Will it regrow?”
“Yep.” He stands, tossing away the soiled cotton. “It’s normal,” Vash says matter of fact.
“Normal?” Wolfwood asks incredulously.
Vash tongues the space where his tooth was. “I regrow teeth every now and then. Mostly the incisors.”
Every now and then. The hell is that supposed to mean? People don’t just grow teeth willy-nilly. Wolfwood puts two and two together and concludes: Plant shit.
Vash doesn’t explain any further, walking towards the bathroom. He turns back to look at Wolfwood. “Thanks, Wolfwood.” He grins with a hole in his smile.
Wolfwood huffs, looking at where the tooth once was. “Yeah, don’t mention it.”
Vash sleeps peacefully in Wolfwood’s arms that night, no whining about the pain.
The aches and pains don’t end there, however. After getting his tooth pulled out, Vash teethes, like a baby.
Vash chews on anything he gets his hands on: the fabric of his coat, twisted t-shirts, the Punisher’s belts. Wolfwood had seen him bite his prosthetic once. Vash whines throughout all of it.
“I’m going to buy you a pacifier,” Wolfwood glares with hands on his hips.
Vash is currently lying down on the bed, biting down on a rolled-up shirt. “Please don’t,” he mumbles pathetically.
It’s ridiculous but Wolfwood has learned that everything about Vash is ridiculous.
Not soon after, Wolfwood wakes up in the middle of the night with a pinch between his neck and shoulder. Grumbling awake, Wolfwood raises a hand to touch the area but is met with a tuff of hair—Vash’s hair. Vash is passed out on top of him, face buried into his neck. What’s normal is Vash seeking warmth in the middle of the night, always cuddling up to him to soak up some of his body heat. What’s not normal is whatever’s currently happening on his neck.
The pinching is Vash biting him like he’s a chew toy, fangs nibbling his bare skin from the lack of wearing a shirt. He left himself exposed to Vash’s teeth and drool.
Wolfwood lets out a long sigh, too tired to do anything about it. He got what he wanted—reminded of the thought he had the other day about being bitten—but at what cost? With a hand in Vash’s hair, Wolfwood goes back to sleep. He hopes he doesn’t get any marks.
The following morning has Wolfwood staring at his reflection in the bathroom mirror. There are numerous bite marks on his shoulder and lower neck. Some resemble hickeys. A particularly nasty bite sits on the middle of his shoulder, harsh lines of upper and lower teeth on his skin. It stings when he presses a finger to the bruise.
Wolfwood glares at Vash’s sleeping form, snoring away unaware of the predicament he caused.
He decides to wear a T-shirt to sleep. It doesn’t change anything when said shirt rides too low and gets pushed aside to expose skin at the mercy of Vash’s unconscious desires. Wolfwood gives up and just lives with it without saying anything. He’ll wear his shirt and suit collar a little higher, praying this teething shenanigans will end soon as the tooth takes its sweet time growing. Vash only gives him a perplexed glimpse when he sees his shirt ride a little higher.
Wolfwood ends up forgetting to check for marks when he and Vash rush out of their hotel room to meet up with Meryl and Milly for breakfast, not wanting to get lectured. If you ask him, it’s too early in the morning to be eating (he and Vash stayed up too late at the bar).
“Mr. Wolfwood, did something attack you last night?” Milly asks.
Wolfwood furrows his brows at the question, still drowsy. “What?”
He doesn’t notice Vash stopped eating.
Milly gestures at her neck, pointing at what she’s implying. Wolfwood follows along, brushing a hand down the column of his neck. It’s when the ache of the bites catches up to his brain that he remembers there are bruises all over his skin on full display. He freezes.
Wolfwood didn’t check if Vash had given him more bites this morning. He put his clothes on in a rush and didn’t make sure he covered himself up—old habit. The breeze hitting the skin of his neck tells him he’s exposing more skin than usual. Wolfwood flushes, pinching the bridge of his nose.
“Oh my god,” Meryl laughs in shock.
Wolfwood groans, fixing his collar. He glares at Vash.
Vash is as red as his coat, staring at the bites on Wolfwood’s neck with his mouth open, horrified. Wolfwood hopes he feels just as embarrassed as he does for flashing everyone in the pub.
“Wow, Mr. Vash sure did a number on you!” Milly chirps, already connecting the dots.
Meryl guffaws at the comment. Vash hides his red face behind his hands.
“Yeah, ‘cause he’s teething and I'm his chew toy,” Wolfwood gripes.
Vash mumbles I’m sorry behind his hands.
“Aww, does the baby need a pacifier?” Meryl coos.
“I can get one from my aunt!” Milly pipes in.
Vash reddens some more, lowering his head as he shoves food into his mouth, sulking. He glares at Wolfwood. Glad the attention is off him, Wolfwood smirks.
When the four leave the bar, Vash tugs his arm.
“Can you cover up?” Vash hisses, glancing at his neck.
“Can you get a toy that’s not me or your shirts?” Wolfwood mocks.
Vash flushes while grimacing, not wanting to take on his suggestion. The rest of the day has him too flustered to look in Wolfwood’s direction who refuses to button up.
In the next town, after bidding Meryl and Milly goodnight, Vash grasps his arm as soon as he closes their room door.
“Let me see,” Vash demands.
Wolfwood drops the Punisher and his bag next to the wall. “What, the bites?”
Vash nods, a determined look on his face. He had a permanent blush all day. Wolfwood rolls his eyes but begins to take off his blazer. Placing it over a chair along with his shirt, Wolfwood turns back to Vash. The colour on Vash’s face drains when he sees the damage he did to Wolfwood’s skin, old and new bites.
“How long have I been bitting you?!” Vach exclaims, looking at the extent of the damage he’s done.
Wolfwood purses his lips. “Two days after pulling out your tooth.”
Vash gapes. “Why didn’t you say anything?”
“Thought this shit wouldn’t last this long.” Wolfwood shrugs, brushing a hand down his neck.
Vash gives him a petulant look. “I woke up in the middle of the night once but didn't think…” He leans closer, staring at one of the more deeper bites. Raising a hand, he brushes a finger over it with a sad expression. “Let me put some cream over them.”
Wolfwood frowns. “It’s fine, they’ll go away eventually.”
Vash doesn’t listen, giving his best teary eyes to get him to say yes. “Please?”
Wolfwood sighs.
Vash drags him to sit on the bed. While Wolfwood stays put, Vash drapes his coat over a chair and grabs his rucksack. He rummages through it, pulling out a familiar small tub of cream that Wolfwood has seen him use a couple of times. Climbing on the bed, Vash settles down behind him, full view of his shoulders and back.
“I use this to help with aches,” Vash states.
Wolfwood hears him uncap the tub. He jumps when cold fingers and equally cold ointment touches his skin.
“Sorry,” Vash hums.
The cream leaves a cool sensation, tingling where it makes contact with the bite marks. It feels nice on his inflamed skin.
Using both his prosthetic and flesh hands, Vash spreads the ointment across his shoulders, reaching forward to get his collarbones. Vash is careful with his fingers as he massages the cream into his skin, not pressing hard for the bruises to hurt. Hands leave Wolfwood’s back for a moment, returning with more cold cream.
Vash moves his hands inwards to his neck, sliding up to his jaw. Thumbs press into his unblemished nape, rubbing and ridding the area of tension. Wolfwood almost lets out a sigh of relief as his muscles loosen.
Wolfwood becomes drowsy from the massage, body relaxing under Vash’s fingers. He hangs his head, sleepiness tugging his eyes closed. Vash continues to lavish his skin, going over his shoulders and neck numerous times, reaching for more cream as it runs out on his hands.
Wolfwood doesn’t notice when the hands pull away longer than usual, near falling asleep sitting up. A sharp pinch pierces his nape, causing him to moan at the pleasure-pain that cascades through his nerves, startling him awake from his light doze. The pinching stops before Wolfwood slaps a hand to the back of his neck.
Wolfwood turns around, glaring at Vash with a red face. “What the hell?”
Vash looks just as stunned and red, hands covering his mouth. “Sorry!” he yelps, fingers covering his eyes.
Wolfwood squints at him. A thought crosses his mind. “Do you like biting me or something?”
“No!” Vash replies instantly. He pauses for a few seconds, peeking through his hands. “Maybe.”
The indignance melts away to something softer. Wolfwood reaches out a hand. “Come here. Let’s see that tooth.”
Vash leans forward, resting his red face on Wolfwood’s palm. Wolfwood uses his thumb to open Vash’s mouth, wide enough to see the tooth in question. Vash is pliant in his hands, staring at him with dilated pupils.
The sharp canine looks fully grown, gums no longer red and puffy.
Wolfwood removes his thumb and pats Vash on the cheek. “Looks like it’s done growing so no more biting.”
Vash blinks at him, then pouts.
Wolfwood grins at the cute expression he gets. He gathers Vash in his arms, tugging him closer. Vash clambers to straddle his legs with hands on his shoulders. With a hand in Vash’s hair, Wolfwood guides his head to his neck.
“I’m feeling generous tonight so you can bite as much as you want,” Wolfwood declares.
“But I just put cream on them,” Vash huffs, pressing his lips to Wolfwood’s skin despite complaining.
Wolfwood snorts. “Yeah and?”
“My poor hard work,” Vash grumbles without heat, teeth biting down to work a hickey into Wolfwood’s skin.
Releasing a pleased sigh, Wolfwood relaxes, letting Vash have his way with him.
The next time they meet Meryl and Milly for breakfast, Wolfwood has a constellation of deep bites all over him from the previous night.
“Looks like Mr. Vash had a fun time!” Milly giggles.
Meryl makes a disgusted face when she sees the marks were created with purpose, love bites rather than Wolfwood being a substitute pacifier.
Beside him, Vash has the decency to look embarrassed but there’s some pride in it, a bit of possessiveness. Wolfwood rolls his eyes, face red but doing nothing to hide the evidence.
Next time, Wolfwood is going to leave marks on him.