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Once Vash has guzzled enough water to drown a Toma, Wolfwood is dragging him back to the hotel bathroom without a word.
He knows why Vash does this, he knows why he didn’t see Vash this morning, why he couldn’t find him for the whole day until he finally got a lucky guess at the local restaurant. Vash didn’t want to think about what today was for him, so, he put far too much on his plate and dug right in.
Still, it doesn’t mean Wolfwood has to be okay with it. Especially when he comes back from a smoke break after dragging Vash back to their room and finds him still as a rock at the table, fidgeting and looking like he’s about to break.
“Aha- You really don’t have to, Wolfwood.” Vash protests as Wolfwood corners him against the bathroom counter, trying to wrestle his legs onto the white marble.
“I know.”
He’s still holding onto that annoying air of cheer even though he sounds absolutely fucking exhausted, evident rasp in his voice. Like he forgot how to let go of it.
“It’s really not that big of a deal, I’ll just—“
“Vash, fuckin’ stop it.” He sighs.
“What? I- I don’t-“ his voice breaks painfully, and Wolfwood can’t tell if it’s that stubborn mask finally breaking or if his voice has really just given out.
Wolfwood says nothing about it, trying to bite down his annoyance as he finally wrestles Vash’s legs up and onto the counter.
He changes up his plan of getting Vash out of his coat first, letting Vash have a moment to gather himself or something as Wolfwood kneels down to start at Vash’s boots.
He goes through the methodic process of undoing buckle after buckle, silver gently clinking against each other as he pulls them apart and drags the boots from his feet with the grasp of heel.
When he slowly slinks himself up, Vash’s shoulders are slumped, head hung low enough that if Wolfwood was standing full height he wouldn’t be able to meet them.
But he can right now, guilt ridden, bone tired to the last wisps of energy—though he’ll somehow always find more to keep people comfortable, which Wolfwood will never not hate—and under that, underlying all of the stress from today, is One-Hundred-Fifty-Three years of exhaustion.
“Sorry,” Vash croaks. Wolfwood is getting sick of hearing that word from Vash, but decides to just let him get out of his system.
“Shh,” He stands fully and weaves his fingers through the back of Vash’s hair, coaxing him up to rest against Wolfwood’s shoulder.
Vash hardly settles against him, stiff as a board as Wolfwood keeps tugging him closer, nudging himself between Vash’s legs.
Taking in a deep breath, he goes through his mental list of breathing exercises before settling on one to focus on. It’s easy enough, letting Vash feel the gentle rise and fall of his chest until eventually, Vash starts to match him too.
His breath is still raspy, which is unusual for Vash, Wolfwood doesn’t like it. Still, he makes no move to do anything about it until Vash’s breath actually begins to even out on his own, and he’s so slightly relaxing into Wolfwood.
He just sits there for a minute to let Vash breathe, ignoring the urge to immediately get rid of every problem in Vash’s life, which is impossible and he knows this—but it won’t stop him from wanting to try.
Deciding Vash is good for him to move again, Wolfwood slips his fingers under the crop of Vash’s coat that frames his waist, starting a trail upwards.
He knows Vash probably won’t be talking now, which is more than fine, so, to keep him from forcing himself to speak, Wolfwood mostly keeps talking to a minimum and gives Vash nonverbal cues for what he’ll to next. Whether its a tap or a hum, it’s a language he knows the both of them appreciate when talking is just too damn much.
Vash doesn’t move when he begins to unbutton his coat, keeping his chin tucked beneath Wolfwood’s neck. It’s easy enough once you know which straps to maneuver, the shape of the coat falling loose to pool around Vash’s feet once Wolfwood pushes it past his shoulders.
Vash only hums and sinks a little further into Wolfwood once it’s off of him, acting deceptively relaxed when Wolfwood can feel the tension from the muscles of his back. Woven so tight with stress that Vash can’t seem to get away from, even with the day’s events locked behind the triple bolted padlock of their hotel door.
Wolfwood is about to say something about it but finds his mouth snapping shut when the fingers rubbing up Vash’s back brush past more fabric under Vash’s turtleneck.
Vash jolts when Wolfwood’s hands freeze there, ever so slightly ducking his face to completely hide into his partners shoulder.
Wolfwood does the math in his head for a second, Vash was gone before he even woke up this morning at sunrise, worked the entire time until an hour ago—and now it’s nearly midnight.
Wolfwood stopped binding a while ago, but even he knows that is way, way too long to have bindings on, and knowing Vash, they’re often wound too tight.
He kind of feels like screaming and crying, maybe setting the whole town on fire. Vash ran himself past exhaustion on top of this, it has to be hurting like a bitch right now, probably was most of the time he was working. The weight of guilt pushing him above and beyond.
In the wake of his still-silence, Vash tenses impossibly further beneath him. A lecture on Vash just taking care of himself a little can wait, Wolfwood reminds himself.
Right now, he just wants Vash to feel okay.
“Hey, let’s get you out of these.” He says quietly, brushing a feather light touch across Vash’s back.
Vash nods into him, pulling back when Wolfwood gently pushes. Vash keeps his head down, staring blankly at his prosthetic as Wolfwood slips a finger under the hem of his shirt.
Vash tries to lift his arms a little to help, but winces back with a hiss. Not a good sign.
Rubbing little circles into Vash’s waist for comfort as he thinks, Wolfwood decides they cant just pull it over from the bottom.
Murmuring his plan to Vash, he positions himself at Vash’s side. Taking the neck of the shirt between his fingers, he starts to bunch the fabric up to hold into his grasp. Next is stretching it around his shoulders and lifting the neck of the shirt past Vash’s head.
Like that, the shirt falls to Vash’s elbows with ease with minimal pain from Vash, allowing Wolfwood to set it aside on the counter.
Vash has his eyes squeezed shut when Wolfwood looks back at him, hands braced on his knees with his flesh hand going white knuckled at the tension.
“Vash, can I take these off now?” He says, a little hurriedly as his hands hover over Vash’s sides. The sooner these are off, the better, but he doesn’t want to make this worse for Vash by surprising him.
Vash nods silently, and sighs when the main end of the bind holding everything together is immediately pulled loose.
Wolfwood whispers tiny comforts to Vash as he undoes the white cloth woven around him, each band revealing irritated skin that he knows is terribly tender. The areas around the sides of his ribs look a little raw, so he notes to be extra careful there.
Vash slumps against him again as soon as the binds are set on the counter by his shirt, tipping into Wolfwood’s collar with a sad sound. Wolfwood settles his hands on the small of Vash’s back, lightly massaging there.
“Can I touch?”
Vash nods vigorously into his neck.
“Pinch me if anything hurts too bad.”
Keeping his touch light, he trails his palms up Vash’s back to where the binds were, ever so slightly rubbing at the center of his back and making his way around Vash’s ribs. Vash makes a tiny little keen at the light touches, his arms squeezing around Wolfwood’s waist.
They sit like that for a minute, Wolfwood gently rubbing up and down his sides until Vash shifts and pats his hip. It’s not a pinch, but Wolfwood still immediately stops his hands.
“You okay?” He looks down at the fluff of blond hair, watching as Vash acts like it physically pains him to tear himself away from the spot he’s made in Wolfwood’s neck.
Vash opens his mouth to speak, but falls short with a sad quirk of his mouth. Tired eyes flick to Wolfwood, then to the bath with the tilt of his head.
“Got it,” He leans forward, pressing a kiss to Vash’s forehead before taking a step back out of Vash’s grasp. “I’ll be right back.”
Vash groans when he embarks on his four-foot-away journey to the tub, but Wolfwood think’s he’ll live and be much happier with a warm bath.
Blessedly, the hotels water actually gets warmer than lukewarm- actually turning hot when he runs his finger under the water after a minute. Stopping the tub drain, Wolfwood makes a quick detour out the bathroom to his sleeping bag to dig around in the pockets.
Once he’s found what he’s looking for, he returns and shakes the little packet to show Vash before tearing it open. Vash’s eyes light up just a little bit at that.
Epsom salt with lavender, a very rare luxury to come across when you’re out of any major cities, so Wolfwood always tries to buy a few when he sees them. He learned very young that it helped with pain, when Miss Melanie would pour a little into the baths for the kids that had chronic pains, or for the ones like him and Livio, who were chronic roughhousers.
The smell is nostalgic as it wafts up from the water below him, making him very happy to be able to help with Vash like this—paired with Vash’s love of baths, he’s been told it’s like heaven whenever Wolfwood brings one out and wants to take a bath with him.
Mixing the salt in with his hand, Wolfwood deems the bath ready and perfectly hot.
Vash looks half asleep when Wolfwood turns back to him, only making a tiny noise of acknowledgement when Wolfwood touches his arms.
“C’mon big guy,” he urges Vash off the counter, carefully supporting most of his weight. “Let’s get these off.”
Vash leans onto Wolfwood as he makes quick work of sliding Vash’s pants and boxers off, keeping Vash’s movements to a minimal for now. Though Vash hasn’t said anything about it, Wolfwood is sure his legs are killing him from standing all day.
Once the both of them are fully undressed, Wolfwood is helping Vash step into the tub and sinking slowly into the steamed water.
Vash goes kind of boneless once his waist is submerged, his head falling back against Wolfwood’s chest without any mind. Wolfwood lets him be a noodle as he settles his back against the slope of the tub, knees poking out of the water as he bends them so Vash has more room to spread out.
He tugs Vash closer against him and lets them sink down together until Vash’s chest is submerged.
The blond sighing is the only indication that he’s still awake, eyes blissfully shut when he turns to use Wolfwood’s chest as a pillow.
“Hey don’t fall asleep yet, Sweetheart.” He chuckles, Vash nodding slowly against him, probably not really hearing a word he’s said.
The water feels amazing, sinking deep into his skin and relieving the tension of the day away, he can only imagine how good it must feel for Vash now.
And he’s determined to make that even better with Vash’s favorite activities.
Quietly, he pops a cap of the shampoo open and squeezes some into his hand, rubbing his hands together to activate it before running his hands through Vash’s hair.
Vash gasps at the touch, then soothes back into his sleep-like state as Wolfwood works his way down Vash’s scalp in circless. His hair softens under the soap, cleaning away the gel and sweat Vash had gathered from working all day.
Once Vash’s head is completely lathered with shampoo, suds foaming up in his hair to make it stick wildly in each direction and curl, Wolfwood scoots up to slowly submerge Vash’s head.
He holds Vash carefully so his face doesn’t go under water and is even more careful about soap getting into Vash’s eyes—which turns out easy since Vash keeps his eyes shut and stays lax, completely trusting Wolfwood not to dunk him.
Scrubbing the shampoo back into the water, he leans down to press kisses along Vash’s forehead, his nose, cheeks, eyelids, until Vash lets out a quiet giggle.
When he lifts Vash back up he’s met with a soft smile and sopping wet hair laying flat on his head.
“Cute,” he whispers. Vash flusters a little, settling himself back on Wolfwood’s chest with the smallest of sighs against water warmed skin.
Content to let Vash do whatever he wants while Wolfwood pampers him, he wordlessly continues on. Conditioner is next, squirting a healthy amount of it into his palm before spreading it out.
An annoying thought starts to nag at his mind as he squeezes the hotel conditioner in his palm. Vash has done this to Wolfwood before, washing his hair. And there is one thing that Vash always does while he’s doing it.
It could be a bad idea, or a really good one… So, he locks his gaze onto what he can see of Vash’s face to look for any sign of discomfort and gives it a try.
He’s hesitant to hum a song up with Vash around, it starts crackly and broken as he tries to remember the little tune he catches from Vash when he’s doing mindless tasks. He’s much out of practice with both singing and humming, but he has a feeling it’s something important, so he gives it his honest best.
Vash doesn’t react much other than twisting his hand to brush against the inside of Wolfwood’s propped up knee, absentmindedly rubbing at the skin there. Not uncomfortable.
Vash’s hair is soft enough without, probably some plant thing with how silky it always feels without Vash’s hair gel texturing it, but it’s so worth it when a purr starts up from Vash. A perfect base to the little hymn Wolfwood hums behind him.
The tips of his hair are well coated in conditioner within a few swipes of Wolfwood’s hand, however, it’s supposed to stay in there for a few minutes or something—so Wolfwood keeps playing with Vash’s hair and massaging his scalp.
The purrs are hesitant, starting and trailing off in random spurs as Wolfwood rubs gentle circles into the back of Vash’s neck where that gets the most rumble.
He’s just about done with the massage and readying himself to move when he hears the painful hitch of breath sucked in from Vash. Then another right after.
“Hey, hey-“ He shushes, taking Vash’s face into his palms to peer down at him. Fat tears roll down his cheeks as Vash’s face crumples, still trying to keep his cries silent.
Wolfwood is pulling him up further into his chest, twisting him a little so Vash can curl up and bury his face into Wolfwood’s shoulder. Vash does so with vigor, the position has his prosthetic pinned between them but his flesh arm grasps Wolfwood’s side with trembling hands.
“Vash,” he whispers, and Vash lets out a small sob into his skin. “It’s okay, I’ve got you.” The purring continues even as he cries and sniffles, so from what Wolfwood knows, Vash isn’t upset about something going on in present.
Vash is like that, letting it all build up impossibly thick, until he’s just comfortable enough for his mind to decide he can’t take anymore. Wolfwood has seen it happen many times, only bearing that plastic smile of his in face of cruelty no person should ever go through—and a week later tears will silently slip down his cheeks into pillows when he thinks Wolfwood is asleep.
Pressing a kiss to Vash’s temple, he gives a mumble of question when Vash squeezes his hand, then lifts it back up to silky blond hair.
Wolfwood gets back to petting right away, smoothing the back of his hair down before trailing up, starting from the bottom of his neck. With his free hand, he rubs up and down the length of Vash’s spine which earns him louder purrs.
It takes a minute, but Vash’s crying slows and turns to tiny sniffles, the purrs becoming a steady rumble as Wolfwood keeps massaging and playing with his hair.
“Do you want me to wash this out now?” He quietly asks. Vash nods against his chest and scoots so his head can be lowered.
Gently, he lets Vash sink himself and begins to rub the residue of the conditioner out if his hair, leaving Wolfwood to marvel at how soft Vash’s hair is, the water only enhancing the feeling more.
Blonde and black strands are lifted from the water by Vash’s own this time, craning his head to look Wolfwood in the eyes.
“Can we lay down?” Vash asks, clearing his throat upon hearing how raspy and rough it sounds.
Pressing a sweet kiss into Vash’s hair, Wolfwood mutters. “Yeah, let’s get this off of you too.” He taps Vash’s prosthetic, the irritated skin around it that not escaping his attention since Vash undressed—but it’s uncomfortable to take off, so Wolfwood let it be until the bath was over and Vash was more relaxed.
Though Vash is the one who suggested it, Wolfwood still has to cajole him out of the warm water, holding a towel wide open for Vash to step into.
As expected, Vash slumps into his embrace the second the towel is wrapped around him, groaning into damp skin.
“Mmmhggg,” Vash loudly announces, leaving most of his weight for Wolfwood to support as he sways on his legs.
“C’mon Sweetheart, let me dry you off.” He pat’s Vash’s bicep.
Vash makes more whines of complaint, but peels himself away from Wolfwood enough for the blanket pinned between them to loosen.
Wolfwood takes his time clearing water from Vash, starting on his arms and shoulders and slowly massaging Vash’s skin through the towel. Next are his legs, then back up to dry his hair.
Wolfwood ruffles the towel wildly over Vash’s head, earning a tired, but sweet giggle from beneath the cloth. Pulling it away to rest over Vash’s shoulders, Vash looks pleasantly frazzled, his skin smooth and the tips of his nose and ears pink from the heat of the bath.
Still exhausted, but less miserable. Which is exactly what Wolfwood was hoping for.
“Will you go sit on the bed?” He nudges Vash with his cheek, using iron clad restraint to stop himself from showering Vash with kisses to focus on the task at hand.
“Mhm,” Vash nods, giving one last squeeze to Wolfwood’s hip before turning around and beelining towards the bed. Following him out the door, Wolfwood makes a turn towards their packs.
“You want a shirt?” He calls back, kneeling down to Vash’s bag to fetch him a pair of fresh boxers.
Vash makes a hum in question before answering. “I’m good.”
Wolfwood returns with fresh boxers, and leaves Vash to dress himself before kneeling on the edge of the bed at Vash’s side. Vash looks down at him with tired eyes, offering his prosthetic up silently.
The pressure hatch is pulled first, slowly pulled up and followed by a blink from the lights on the side twice, signaling the disconnect of wired nerves. Giving Vash a warning before he moves, the base of the prosthetic is twisted left and fully disconnected.
A small whimper is heard from Vash as Wolfwood sets the prosthetic on the bedside table, in easy reach for Vash if he needs it. “You alright?”
Vash nods. “Yeah, just nerves.”
Wordlessly, Wolfwood joins him to rub at Vash’s residual limb, pushing deep pressure up and down Vash’s bicep with his thumbs for a few minutes until the blond pulls away with a sigh.
Vash sways a bit as he tries to stay upright on his own, his elbow knocking into Wolfwood’s ribs a few times, eyes unable to stay open any longer. Wolfwood has to do a double take to see if Vash is actually still awake or not.
“Let’s get you to bed, big guy.” Wolfwood huffs, gently tugging Vash up the bed with him. Vash lets himself be lead so easily, crashing into Wolfwood’s side once the comforter is lifted enough.
“Mm, what happened to sweetheart?”
It’s as nice as hotel room’s around here get, the rarity of freshly washed linens flooding Wolfwood’s nose as he pulls the blanket back over them.
“Ya’ can be big and my sweetheart at the same time.” He replies, snaking an arm around Vash’s waist to pull him flush against his frontside.
Vash is warm and lax against him, wiggling around until he finds a comfortable position nestled against Wolfwood’s sternum and cradled between the length of his thighs.
Wolfwood drags his fingers up and down Vash’s sides idly, feeling up each scar, keloid line, and bolt with the flats of his fingernails and dragging them back down with softened calloused fingertips.
“S’It okay if I massage up here?” He questions, getting a slight mouthful of rapidly drying cornsilk hair as he does so. His hands come to rest just beneath the swell of Vash’s breast’s, smoothing along the soft skin there.
“Yes,” Vash responds without beat despite how tired he is. “careful on the left one.”
Wolfwood nods, dragging his palms upwards and starting under Vash’s arms.
Deep, slow sweeping circles press into tender skin, fingers kept tucked flat against Vash’s ribs while his thumb splays out just where soft tissue begins.
A soft sound falls from Vash’s lips at the soreness sparking and ebbing away with each pass of Wolfwood’s hands.
He keeps it truly slow, taking his sweet time until the ends of his fingers are cupping under the swells again. It’s then that Wolfwood catches the spur of purring once more, revving like an engine all of a sudden like Vash had just remembered he was free to do it.
Wolfwood liked it a-lot honestly, a true sign of Vash’s comfort and trust that tickled a bit when he lay back against Wolfwood like this and the vibration’s spread deep into his sternum, and then some. Once, before he was anything more than just Nico, he’d been told that’s where his soul was.
It’s taken a long, long time for Wolfwood to believe Miss Melanie’s words again. And even now he still felt cold around the edges of what lie there, nestled somewhere under his ribs and the thump of his heart.
“W’lf’ud’” Vash mumbles. The purring distorting his voice into something barely comprehensible.
“Yeah?” He says, pausing his hands from where they’ve begun to knead at Vash’s breast, the left hand kept much lighter around the blanket of scars over it.
“Umn, can you do that thing again?”
“What thing?”
Vash falls silent, hesitant. Wolfwood opens his mouth soon after to prod encouragement’s before Vash cuts him off.
“Sing for me?” He asks, almost like the question is a crime.
Oh
Wolfwood resists the urge to crack a joke, a jab at his own crackly smokers call at the tip of his tongue. He knows exactly what Vash is asking, and he doesn’t want to wait a second more to give it to him.
With a nod, he resumes the massage and begins to hum.
Vash melts like butter on-top of him at the sound, purrs turning deeper until they both match each other’s lulling pace of noise. He think’s Vash’s is more graceful, a perfect tempo and always even, but not even Wolfwood’s mere human humming can sound bad when Vash harmonizes with it.
“Thank you,” Vash sighs, with much more meaning that Wolfwood’s sleepy mind can begin to process.
Wolfwood realizes then, that maybe this gives Vash the same feeling it does with himself. That the hums Wolfwood clumsily tries to mimic plantsong with might be tickling along Vash’s ribs too, under his quick pulse, and then some.
Burrowing sound deep into soft light, supple and warm as a soul can be.