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Vash drank. That much was a given, but drinking was a common pass time on Noman’s Land. There was hardly a soul there who didn't indulge in (or binge) alcohol. Hell, Wolfwood started drinking things far beyond watered down communion wine when he was barely 12 years old. Wolfwood drank, he would never be such a hypocrite as to say he didn't or that he wasn’t addicted to the stuff. He was, and though he didn't like to admit that, it didn't make it any less true.
Because he was a drinker, Wolfwood could recognize just how heavily Vash hit the bottle. Vash had a weak tolerance to the stuff to begin with, but that didn’t stop him from going hard. Whenever he had the opportunity (and the cash) Vash drank. Wolfwood joined him, but unlike Vash he didn’t get drunk. Three beers in and Vash was red in the face, giggly, and having the time of his life. It wouldn’t be such a problem if Vash stopped at just three. The more he drank, the more emotional he got. More than once, Wolfwood had to rub Vash’s back while he sobbed into the toilet. Vash would go from a happy-go-lucky drunk in one sip to a cry baby who could barely speak through his own tears, and another sip later he’d be glassy eyed and happy again.
It wasn’t even after the hard days, the rough journeys when Vash drank the most. That, Wolfwood would've understood. He treated himself more after a particularly hard week, it was a reward for making it out alive. But Vash? He went easy after the most grueling encounters and damn near drank himself to death after good days (or as pleasant as they could be). Wolfwood didn’t get it. There was so much about Vash he didn’t get, and he knew he’d never understand him completely. But the drinking? From one alcoholic to another, Wolfwood found Vash’s drinking habits a mystery. What he was sure of, however, was that it was hurting Vash. In the very least it wasn’t good for him.
Truthfully, Wolfwood didn’t know how good it was for himself. He hated seeing Vash so upset when the alcohol in his blood turned straight into grieving tears that fell for any and every reason. Hated holding Vash in his arms while he sobbed his apologies for leaving him after the Fifth Moon Incident, shaking and barely managing to catch his breath. He hated turning down Vash’s advances when he was so giddy and happy, but so far beyond the reach of sobriety that it just wasn’t something Wolfwood was comfortable with.
It wasn’t that Wolfwood didn’t love Vash, goddamn, he made his black heart jump to life in a way he had never felt before. Wolfwood did love Vash, which is why he wanted to really be with him. When Vash was drunk… He was a whirl of emotions, but most importantly he wasn’t himself. Wolfwood drank, yes, but he hardly got so drunk that he became someone else. He was always in control of what he did and how much he drank. Wolfwood felt bad for thinking it. He felt like such a hypocrite, what he drank was heavier stuff than Vash, after all. But Wolfwood didn’t drink like Vash did, didn’t go searching for the bottom of every bottle he picked up. Christ, Wolfwood loved Vash, and he’d never ask him to quit drinking, but he would’ve liked to actually enjoy a drink with him.
Wolfwood didn’t know how he’d ever bring up the conversation to a sober Vash, as painfully ironic as that was. He knew the moment he mentioned it, Vash would deflect and act sore for the rest of the day. So, Wolfwood brought it up to the Vash who he knew would talk to him, the Vash who had his lips on the bottle more than him all night.
With a tired sigh, Wolfwood eased Vash down onto the bed in their hotel room. He straightened up and moved his arms back, frowning as his back popped and cracked nicely. Vash was in a good mood that night, or at least, nothing was said to push him into a fit of sadness. Vash was much easier to take care of as a happy drunk than a sad one, so that was good. Wolfwood left Vash on the bed and moved to close the open door to their room before returning to the bedside.
“Tonight was soooooo fun,” Vash said, kicking his legs as Wolfwood knelt before him. “The bartender was nice too.”
“Mhm,” Struggling, Wolfwood took one of Vash’s swinging legs and began to take off his boots. “Wasn’t bad.”
“Did you have fun?” Vash sat up, his body swaying. He stopped moving his legs and allowed Wolfwood to remove his shoes.
With a shrug, Wolfwood didn’t look at Vash as he peeled his first boot off and moved to the second one. “I dunno, I mean-” He ticked his head to the side as he tugged off Vash’s shoe. “Would’a been nice if ya’d pay a bit more attention to me.”
“Whaaat?” Laughing, Vash fell back onto the bed. There were tears in his eyes as he smiled, “Nico, I tried gettin’ you to dance with me all night!”
That had been true, Wolfwood wouldn’t deny that. But a dance where Vash kept tripping over himself and knocking into other people wasn’t much of a dance at all. Wolfwood really would have liked to dance with Vash, but at the very least he would have liked Vash to remember it.
“Yeah, but-” As many times as Wolfwood had run over potential lines in his head of what to say, he still found it difficult to actually put the words out there. He sat on the bed next to Vash, “I would’a liked it if you’d been a lil more…” He sighed, tapping his fingers on his legs. “Straight for it.”
This put Vash’s laughter to a stop, he rolled over on his stomach and put his arm over Wolfwood’s legs as he looked up at him. “What do you mean?” He asked, still smiling. “Didn’t think there was anything straight about you ‘n me.” He joked, gently prodding Wolfwood in the side.
Wolfwood looked at him, and nothing about Vash’s flushed face said he knew what he was talking about. Somehow that hurt. “For Chrissakes, Vash,” Wolfwood pleaded, “Why d’ya do this shit to yerself? Most people drink for a good time, but it feels like ya just do it t’get drunk.”
The smile slowly melted from Vash’s face. He sat up and slowly pulled back from Wolfwood. The gleam that shined in his tearful eyes showed that he wasn’t as far gone as he was on his worst nights, but the alcohol still clouded him. “I don’t-” He breathed, looking at his hands. “I mean, I do, but…” When Vash cried while he was like this it was always loud. Now, his tears were silent. They streamed from his eyes and he acted as if they weren’t there. He put hands over his face, hiding himself. “How bad has it been, Wolfwood?”
For a moment, Wolfwood was quiet. He was stunned. “Pretty…” He swallowed, looking away to give Vash a little privacy. “Pretty bad.” He let Vash cry and after some time, shifted closer to him on the bed. His mouth felt dry as he put his arm around Vash and held him closely. “What’s up, spikey?” He finally asked. “Y’can tell me.”
Vash dropped his hands from his face and shook his head. He smiled, but it was one of the fakest ones Wolfwood had ever seen him put on. “It hurts,” He said. “Nick, you don’t know how much it hurts.”
Narrowing his eyes, Wolfwood looked over Vash carefully. They had gotten into a few scrapes in the recent weeks, but nothing too pressing. “What hurts?” He asked. He wanted to fix it, to take away that pain. To make it so Vash never hurt again. Wolfwood was only a man, he wasn’t an especially smart or talented one at that, but hearing that there was something hurting Vash so much. He had to at least try to do something to help. “What can I do?”
Vash laughed, but it was soon choked out by a sob. He shook his head softly. “Everything.” He said after taking a breath. “Everything hurts. Living for so long, doing what I do…” Vash wiped at his eyes with his hands. “Every day I feel like my scars are opening up again,” He swallowed hard, throat bobbing. “I can- feel everything inside me. Bones, muscles, ligaments, blood vessels. I feel them all, and fuck they just-” Vash gave a shuttering breath as he tried to calm himself down. “That’s just the stuff on the inside, the things I can actually put a name to. Drinking just… it’s always just helped that go away, or at least make it hurt less.”
Wolfwood understood pain. His whole damn life had been full of it. From the abuse he had suffered as a child, to the terrible medical experiments performed on him by the Eye of Michael. Wolfwood knew pain. He knew it when he felt his body grow years in mere minutes, shooting up and screaming as limbs lengthened and bones grew denser; or when it healed organs shredded by gunfire and shattered bones so bad that he should’ve been just another corpse out in the wastes. Wolfwood knew pain, but he couldn’t say he felt it like Vash did. He didn’t feel it constantly, every part of his body- no matter how small, aching for relief. Such a pain, like everything else Vash went through, sounded like true Hell.
His hold around Vash tightened as he moved both arms to hug him. Wolfwood pulled Vash into him, his head resting against his chest. Wolfwood didn’t mind how Vash’s tears dampened his shirt, it wasn’t the first time Vash had cried on him while drunk anyways. He felt like a fucking asshole for bringing the issue up. “‘M sorry, I shouldn’t have-”
“No,” Vash said sternly. “I mean-” He met Wolfwood with such a desperate, pleading look. “I didn’t realize how bad I was getting.” He reached up with his flesh and blood hand and put it over Wolfwood’s cheek. “I’m just- I wasn’t…” He closed his eyes and pressed his lips together. “I’m not used to people being close enough to me to notice.” Vash muttered quietly as he opened his eyes. “Or being close enough to others for it to hurt them.”
Wolfwood opened his mouth, but he had nothing to say. He pressed his forehead to Vash’s. It had hurt him, but he still felt guilty about bringing the issue up. He had his own problems, things he didn’t cope with in the best ways, and Vash didn’t give him shit about them.
“Nick, I’m sorry.”
It wasn’t the first time Vash had apologized to Wolfwood while drunk.
“S’okay.” Wolfwood reassured him. “I didn’- didn’ know that-”
Again, Vash shook his head. He looked past Wolfwood and thought for a quiet moment. “I can’t do that to you.” He met his eyes again. “I’d hate to make you hurt too.”
“But-” Wolfwood hesitated. “Listen, if you’re in pain, then I don’ wanna-”
“Drinking isn’t the only thing that helps with the pain,” Vash gently cut him off. “I’m just not…” His thumb ran over the stubble on Wolfwood’s cheek. “Used to having someone around who does help. I was just so used to doing it my way that… I won’t forget about you again, Nicholas. I promise.” Vash paused, then spoke quieter. “I’ll pull back.”
A smile managed to work its way on to Wolfwood’s lips, he felt himself breathe easier. It wasn’t just hearing that Vash would cut back that made him feel better, but the fact that he felt like he could help him. It gave him a sense of control that he hadn’t had while taking care of Vash in his drunken moods. It was something he could actually do. “Okay.” He kissed Vash, not minding the taste of beer on his lips. “Just-” He pulled back and looked at him carefully. “Lemme know what I can do t'help.”
“Well,” Vash breathed a gentle laugh. His face was still wet with tears and his eyes looked red and sore. “You’re doing a pretty good job right now.” He muttered, giving Wolfwood’s lips a peck.
Wolfwood felt more relieved than he had in a while. Like a painful bubble inside him had popped, allowing for his body to move back to its original shape instead of having to skirt around it. “Good to know.” He said, finding Vash’s lips again.