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Summary
“Like anyone’s stopping you?” Wolfwood’s eyes roll; Vash is enthralled by the simple motion, the full expanse of his deep brown irises visible with his sunglasses folded on the bedside table. They cuddle like this often, these days, so it’s not like Wolfwood’s eye colour is new to him, but even in their more easy life, Wolfwood doesn’t like to go without them. They do live on a desert planet, after all. Beyond that, it’s vulnerable in a way that Vash would have to actively pretend not to understand, hence why he doesn’t usually push Wolfwood to take them off.
This isn’t the sort of moment that Wolfwood has to hide from, though, and Vash is close enough that all he has to do is lean in a little closer, press the tips of their noses together, and watch the way Wolfwood’s pupils shrink into pinpricks in his embarrassment, giving Vash an even better sight of that pretty brown.
“You,” Wolfwood says, and he whiffles, as if he’d been caught off guard by Vash’s proximity, “you like that about me, anyhow.” He clears his throat.
“That you’re mean to me?” Vash clarifies.
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Vash can't lie; he might just like everything about Wolfwood.