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Wolfwood sinks into the couch on the balcony and stretches out his legs, sucking in a lungful of warm morning air. It’s gonna be a hot one again today. Voices and footsteps ring out below, the buzz of tourists piling out of their buses and locals getting their groceries before everything starts roasting. The sky is a solid blue, like someone coated it in candied enamel.
He digs into the paper bag on his lap and breaks off another piece of blueberry muffin. He tilts his head back and raises it to his lips, only to be interrupted by a loud meow. He lowers the bite and spots a black cat perched on the railing. She stares him down with slit yellow eyes. She meows again, and again. He shoos her. “Beat it, buttercup. I’m not the one with a bleeding heart.” He tosses the piece in his mouth and tears off another.
The cat meows louder, the look on her face turning angrier. Wolfwood narrows his eyes. “You don’t fool me with that cryin. I see that little pudge in your belly. Go find someone else to scam, will ya?”
She throws one last glare over her rounded shoulder before jumping onto a nearby roof. She bounds from wall to fire escape to dumpster, down to the ground. Wolfwood shakes his head. “Too smart for their own good.” He dusts the crumbs off his lap and balls up the empty bag, stepping back inside. “Yo blondie! You gettin up anytime soon?”
Vash thunders down the stairs in his boxers, his hair even wilder than usual and his t-shirt slipping off his shoulder. He thrusts his holo-phone at Wolfwood. “Look! It might rain today!”
Wolfwood leans in, squinting at the little sun and cloud symbols. He raises an eyebrow. “Five percent chance?”
Vash grins. “That’s five percent more than usual!” A loud meow interrupts them. That damn cat is back out on the balcony. Vash gives her a little wave. “Oh hey there.” He tears off a piece of sourdough from the counter and passes it to the cat, who gobbles it up and purrs loudly, twining herself around Vash’s calves again and again. Vash bends down and scratches under her chin and Wolfwood swears the cat shoots him a smug look.
“We eating in?”
Vash straightens. “I decided we should go to that nice cafe. Might as well go all out, you know?”
“And today’s special why?”
He grins again. “Because it’s going to rain!” All that smiling looks exhausting.
“Because you think it’s going to rain.”
“Oh, don’t be grumpy.” He steps close and sets a hand on Wolfwood’s shoulder, tilting his head. “What’s wrong? What can I do to cheer you up?”
Wolfwood chuckles. “It’s not that I’m down, it’s that you’re through the roof.”
Vash kisses him on the cheek. “Coffee. How about some coffee?”
“Alright, spikey.”
“And a kiss?”
He smirks. “Always that.” He fits his hand in the small of Vash’s back and tugs him closer, fitting his lips against Vash’s. An extra warmth radiates off his skin, a looseness that only comes from sleep. He’s absolutely intoxicating. Even more so than the cigarettes he can never seem to untangle from between his fingers.
Vash leans back. “You sleep okay last night?” He must’ve heard him get up. Smelled the threads of smoke drifting through the open window.
Wolfwood shrugs. “Same as usual.” He leans in and steals another kiss, his voice warm against Vash’s cheek. “It’s always better with you.”
Vash’s lips curl up. “I’m glad.”
“We gonna go then?”
“Just after I shower.” Vash looks down at the cat, who’s sitting there watching them like a peeping Tom. “You’ll feed her if she’s hungry, yeah?”
“Sure thing.”
Vash goes back upstairs. The cat meows and Wolfwood rolls his eyes, tears off another piece of bread and tosses it her way. “Only ‘cause he said, got it?”
——
Wolfwood feels worlds better after coffee. And waffles and bacon. And seeing Vash chatting with a merchant down the street, his profile haloed in the sunlight and his blonde hair alight like molten gold. The crowd flows around him, people stopping at other stalls, hands reaching out to catch fresh chunks of bread or test fabrics, double dollars passing from wallets to cashboxes. If he had any talent in photography, he’d give it a go right here and now.
Vash scans the crowd, his smile slipping, but when he spots Wolfwood, he grins and waves him over. “Wolfwood!”
Wolfwood weaves his way to him. Vash is looking at the earrings, a sea of them on foam squares, necklaces dangling overhead and rings glittering in perfectly sized cutouts. “Aren’t these beautiful? Lillian here makes them all herself.”
The young lady on the other side of the stall grins, her eyes on Vash. Wolfwood dislikes the way she looks at him. Like he’s nothing but a pretty face, a fun one-night stand she can ditch in a motel. She twirls a dark curl. “Where are you coming in from?”
Vash opens his mouth but Wolfwood bites, “Why don’t you mind your own damn business?” Even he’s surprised – why is he so bitter? He and Vash are married. Married. So why the hell is he jealous?
The girl’s eyes flare, but Vash defuses her rebuttal with an easy smile and the wave of a hand. “Oh, don’t mind my darling husband – deep down he’s sweet as a puppy. Do you have any earrings in the shape of gold stars?”
“I’ll… go check.” She disappears behind a curtain, leaving a woman in the corner to watch her wares.
Wolfwood shakes his head, embarrassed how his face reddens. “You’re so cheesy.”
Vash slips a hand around his waist with a sly look. “You love it.” He plants a kiss on Wolfwood’s cheek.
Two minutes later, Lillian returns with a small box. She sets it out for Vash to see, covering up neat rows of rings inlaid with different opals. Vash leans in, his blue fingers brushing the metal forged into dozens of different styles and sizes. He picks up a card pinned with classic five-pointed stars. “These are perfect,” he breathes, his eyes as starry as the ones he’s holding in his hand. He turns them over to look at the price but flips it back over and shoots Wolfwood a look.
“What?”
Vash bites his lip and turns it back over, revealing the number written in looping pen. Two hundred double dollars. Wolfwood considers that for a moment. Nods. Reaches in his pocket and pulls out his wallet.
Vash’s eyes go round. “Are you sure? We’re already low….”
“You know how hard it is to take you shopping? You never make up your mind this fast – we’re buyin.”
Vash’s smile sweetens. “Thanks, love.”
Wolfwood ignores the redness that flares in his cheeks and hands over the cash.
——
They spend the next hour walking the rest of the market. Nothing else catches their attention, but they do stop for some freshly steamed sesame buns. Wolfwood’s about to suggest they find someplace to hide from the heat when he spots dark uniforms moving through the crowd, rifles in gloved hands. “Trouble ahead.”
Vash spots them and puts his head down. “You see a way around them?”
“Not at the moment.” Damn it, they should have been paying more attention. He moves towards a baby-faced trooper, hoping he looks right over them. Wolfwood glances at Vash and sighs. “Would it kill you not to wear red? You know you kinda stick out in a crowd.”
Vash rubs the back of his neck with a sheepish smile. “It’s my favorite color.” He has to be the cutest idiot this planet’s ever seen. They keep moving, and when they draw nearer to the trooper, Wolfwood puts himself between the kid and Vash and hopes they can just stroll right out of this one.
A shout rings out. “There! It’s the humanoid typhoon!”
Wolfwood whips around – one of the officers is shoving his way towards them, the others falling in step behind him. The crowd parts in shouts and gasps. Vash takes off, Wolfwood not far behind. They zip through the alleyways, the pounding of boots never too far behind. Heat wafts off the stone walls and beats down on his neck – at this rate, they’ll have to start watching for heat stroke. Vash must realize the same thing because he swerves off into a shaded alley and they wind through a series of tight turns, the streets branching off every which way. Wolfwood’s changed his mind about the layout of the city – thank god they built it in such a maze.
They run down a long, wide alley with tiny balconies attached to the floors above, but instead of swerving around another corner, Vash skids to a stop. He turns around, his blue eyes blown wide. “It’s a dead end.”
“Shit.” There’s no way they can run back without smacking into the military police.
Vash runs to a fire escape – Wolfwood could boost him up to the ledge, but they’ll be riddled with holes before they can climb a single flight. Boots clatter on the cobblestones and voices echo in the streets: “They went this way!” They have only seconds.
Wolfwood scans the stone walls. So many ledges and locked doors, caged windows and sunken stucco, there has to be something. He touches a white sheet strung against the side of the building, pulls it aside. There’s a small, dark opening between the buildings, a slit that stretches on to a strip of lit alleyway forty feet away. It narrows too small to fit through, but here at the entrance, he and Vash could squeeze in.
“Vash!” he hisses, gesturing for him, the cacophony of footfalls approaching too fast.
Vash runs to him, his chunky boots thudding on the old stones, his jacket rippling wide behind him in aqua and his favorite red. He stretches out a hand and Wolfwood catches the smooth crystal. He tugs Vash to his chest in what little space is left. He releases the sheet just as the footsteps round the corner. Vash lowers his head, the spikes of his hair tickling Wolfwood’s cheek. His chest pushes against Wolfwood’s with every breath, a soft warmth pluming from his lips down the collar of his turtleneck.
“Alright!” one of the officers shouts. “They couldn’t have gone far. Scour the streets!” The footsteps recede and spread out.
“Why is it always such a close call with you?”
Vash lifts his head and winks, his glasses gleaming. “I am a wanted man.”
“It’s a miracle you’ve lived this long.”
Vash loops his arms around Wolfwood’s neck and presses closer. “Well, I have you to protect me.”
The dig of his hips sends a thrill up Wolfwood’s spine. “Yeah, I’m talkin before me.”
Vash tilts his head, mocking confusion. “Was there a time before you?”
“Cute.”
Vash tips his glasses up and kisses him. They shouldn’t stay here, but Vash tastes like the heaven those plant fanatics claim he comes from, and when Wolfwood fits his hands in the slim cut of Vash’s waist, he can’t find it in himself to give a damn if those pencil pushers come back and catch them making out like teenagers hiding from their parents.
When they pull apart, Wolfwood says, “Alright, Mr. Outlaw. We gonna make tracks or what?”
Vash pats his chest, his fingers lingering against Wolfwood’s skin. “Your survival instincts are excellent as always.”
“I think it’s just that yours are nonexistent.”
Vash pushes the sheet aside and steps out, letting Wolfwood breathe. They slip through the streets, ducking into alcoves and hiding around corners at the first sign of trouble. They come to a plaza surrounded by apartments. On the first to the fifth stories, residents hang their laundry out to dry or peer down at the activity below.
Wolfwood puts his hands on his hips. “Well, I am thoroughly turned around.”
“We’re ten minutes from our hotel.”
“You sure about that?”
“Let’s find out.”
A strong breeze carries through the open space, cool enough to catch his attention. He looks up and notices the edges of some clouds drifting in, one that looks a little dark. He thinks about mentioning it to Vash; he was so excited about the possibility of rain that morning. And sure, they disagree all the time, but it’s not like Wolfwood to be so sharp with him over something so small.
Vash waves to a little girl peering out from a shaded doorway and she giggles and waves back, all chubby cheeks and big round eyes. A group of older kids race past, chasing a soccer ball bouncing across the stones.
That might have been Wolfwood on some sunny day not too long ago. He remembers so little of his childhood. There wasn’t much of it to begin with. What precious memories he did have were blown to pieces by the procedure that turned him into more monster than human. But still, there’s something so familiar, intensely nostalgic, about the wild chorus of high-pitched laughter and the muffled slap of a shoe colliding with a well-worn ball.
Vash’s knuckles brush against the back of his hand, a welcome mistake. His blue eyes dart to Wolfwood’s, then ahead. Wolfwood’s the one who set the no hand-holding rule – he’s not a fan of waltzing through the streets like some lovesick fool. He regrets it in this moment. Vash’s hand would fit so nicely in his, flesh or crystal.
Vash stops abruptly. Wolfwood opens his mouth to ask what’s wrong, but Vash lifts his blue palm and a thick drop of water splats against it. He looks at Wolfwood, eyes aglow. All around them, a patter starts to rise up, dinking against the cobblestone and ringing against tin. A hush washes over the street – even the kids slow and stop. Everyone looks up at the darkening sky.
Vash spreads his arms and twirls, his coat flaring out like a flame. “It’s raining!”
Wolfwood chuckles. “I can see that.”
Gleeful shouts ring out. The children clap and turn their hands to the sky. Their parents run outside with cups and bowls of all different sizes and lay them out in wonky circles. A radio somewhere above blares to life and echoes across the plaza, a baritone voice singing in Spanish over the strum of a guitar. A couple on the far end start to dance and Vash grabs Wolfwood’s hand, pulling him towards the center. “Come on!”
Wolfwood twirls him. Vash laughs, so full of light Wolfwood can hardly stand to be so close to him, but he knows from experience that it’s being away from Vash that he can hardly stand. If Vash is the sun everything seems to be pulled towards, then Wolfwood is his moon. He’s dark and hollow, always a sign of danger, but with Vash he can reflect some of the light, become a little bit more like the person he used to be. With Vash, he has a future to look forward to, and that’s sure as hell something to smile about.
The sprinkling grows into a torrent, washing out the world around them, and then there is only this moment, the two of them orbiting each other with every strum of the guitar, every beat of the drum, the rain peppering against their skin and soaking down to the bone.
Vash is the only one who has ever made him feel so alive. Vash makes him see that change is possible even in the darkest places, that the world is always worth fighting for, even if you lose at every turn, even if it spits in your face again and again. Life can dole out the very worst kind of pain, but it can also gift moments like these, moments that transcend all space and time, that will live forever in the hearts of those who love.
——
It turns out Vash was right about their room being ten minutes away. As he fumbles to unlock the door on the third floor, both of them sopping wet, Wolfwood circles an arm around him from behind and kisses the back of his neck.
Vash giggles and whispers, “Wolfwood!”
“You gonna get the door or what?”
“I’m a little distracted.”
“‘S only gonna get worse.” He kisses him again, drifting towards one of the stars pinned in his ears. They look perfect on him.
The door clicks and Vash pulls him inside, turns and pins him against the wall with a kiss. He presses his hands to Wolfwood’s shoulders and digs his body close. Wolfwood savors every touch, every refraction of the light they make together. Their possibilities are endless.
Vash shivers and pulls away, droplets scattering off the ends of his hair. “I’m cold!”
Wolfwood chuckles. “Let’s warm up then.”
In their bedroom, Vash peels off his soaked coat and hangs it over the bathtub. There was a time when he was embarrassed to show Wolfwood his scars, but not anymore. He drags a towel over his skin, over the metal grates and puckered scars, and digs out fresh clothes.
Wolfwood finds a clean dress shirt and steals a pair of Vash’s jeans. Outside, the rain pours harder, peppering the roof and bouncing off the bone-dry stones. At this point, they might actually see some flooding.
Vash sits on the bed in his sweats and a fresh t-shirt, ankles crossed. He closes his eyes and towels the last moisture off his cheek.
Wolfwood’s heart swells just seeing him sitting there, quiet and content. Regret wells in him again and he picks up the other towel, scrubs his hair and runs his fingers through the mess as he considers his words.
“Listen, I….”
Vash looks up.
“I’m sorry I’ve been an ass for most of today.”
Vash’s eyes widen. “No, I get it, you don’t have to-”
“Just let me get this out, okay?”
Vash falls quiet. “Okay.”
Wolfwood sets the towel aside and sits on the bed with him. “You deserve better.” He takes Vash’s hand, his thumb and forefinger falling to the golden band around his finger. “Ever since we tied the knot, I just keep thinkin…. You’ll see who I really am and you won’t like it. I keep trying to put up walls like in the old days.” He shakes his head. “It’s all just stupid and over emotional.”
“Don’t say that. Fear isn’t stupid.” Vash cups his cheek. “I know who you are, Wolfwood.”
Wolfwood shuts his eyes and holds Vash’s wrist there. “Better than anyone. That’s why it’s so idiotic.”
Vash’s thumb sweeps over his cheekbone. “I’ll never regret marrying you, Nico. Not for a second.”
“Bold words.”
He laughs. “I mean it!”
Wolfwood raises an eyebrow. “Even if I never buy you a donut again?”
His pout is positively adorable. “You’d be so cruel?”
Wolfwood laughs, leaning close. “Never.” He seals the promise with a kiss.
Vash loops his arms around him and sighs. “That’s what we should’ve gotten at the market.”
Wolfwood kisses his cheek. “There’s always tomorrow.” As many tomorrows as they can make together. Because he knew it before, but he feels it now – the kind of love they have is everlasting.