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Wolfwood doesn't see much of Vash in the weeks after the incident at Dragon's Nest.
Well, that's not strictly true. He sees him every day, helping with the rebuilding efforts, cracking jokes with civilians, avoiding Meryl like the plague. But he doesn't see him. Vash is obviously drunk most of their days together, smelling like a distillery but functional enough that he doesn't wobble in his efforts. The townspeople must know, but they're too polite to say anything. After they finish work for the day Vash disappears entirely. They're staying at the hotel, rooms adjacent to each other's, but Wolfwood hasn't seen him there the whole time he's been staying there.
It's not his job to worry, he tells himself, and besides, it's not like Vash would accept it even if he did worry about him. The other side to it, the side that Wolfwood can't help but feel ashamed of, is the way his gut still twists in fear whenever he thinks of the great feathered mass that was Vash. It's stupid, he tells himself, cruel. He knows, logically, that Vash wouldn't have done any of it if he was in his right mind, that they'd — that he'd , if he's including himself in the Gung-ho Guns like he really should — they'd pushed Vash to his breaking point and beyond. Vash feels even worse about it, he reasons, if the constant smell of alcohol and the fleeing of any room that Meryl happens to be in are evidence.
Still, Wolfwood can't shake his uneasiness around Vash. He's going to have to face up to it, though, because Vash is getting worse.
Initially he'd thought to give him however long they stay here to wallow, to let Vash drown his sorrows in the bottom of countless bottles before they headed back out on their journey-slash-death march, nearing its end regardless of how that makes Wolfwood feel. But Vash doesn't seem to be coming out of it, unable to pull himself out of the slump like Wolfwood has seen him do countless times. A traitorous voice inside Wolfwood's brain can't help but point out that Wolfwood hadn't been avoiding him during those times, so how can he tell, really?
But he can tell. Vash's drunkenness gets worse, wobbling on his feet during the final rebuilding efforts, hardly able to keep conversation, the horrible plastic smile on his face getting faker and faker by the day.
So Wolfwood does what he has to do. He's not sure if it's better to tell himself that its out of concern for Vash or that it's out of self-interest, ensuring that Vash is able to keep going to where Wolfwood is leading him. He's not sure, so he decides to tell himself nothing at all.
It's hard, Vash is slippery, slips out of Wolfwood's fingers entirely the two days he tries to corner him at the end of the day, and then he vanishes again until the next morning where he greets Wolfwood with a wobbly wave and a horrible fake smile.
So Wolfwood plots. He gives Vash a few days to forget all about it, then he grabs a coffee and heads to his hotel room to wait him out. It's around 3am when he hears Vash's footsteps in the hallway outside, definitely quiet enough that they wouldn't disturb a sleeping Wolfwood, but an awake one is a different story. Vash's footsteps are practically ringing in his ears, too loud for a man he knows can walk around even in those stupid boots without making a noise. He waits until he hears the footsteps pause, then snares Vash in his trap, opening his door and lunging out to grab Vash by the arm and drag him into Wolfwood's hotel room. He'd never have made it if Vash wasn't absolutely plastered, as it is it's still a close thing, Vash letting out a yelp at being grabbed and immediately struggling in Wolfwood's grip, but he manages to get him inside and the door locked behind them.
Vash stops struggling once Wolfwood gets the door closed and plasters on that fake, sheepish smile, running a hand through his hair and curling in on himself, trying to make himself look smaller. "Wolfwood!" he says, and there's that plastic cheer that has been Vash's constant companion this last week, "You're up early!"
"Shut it," Wolfwood says. rolling his eyes and grabbing Vash, hauling him over to the bed and making him sit down. "You smell like a fucking distillery, needle-noggin."
Vash is still smiling, but it wavers slightly, "Well, you know, I know we have work to do and everything, but this town has a really great bar scene and I just —"
Wolfwood interrupts him with a noise of frustrating, yanking his pack of cigarettes out of his pocket and lighting one with a sigh. He'd smoked most of the pack waiting for Vash but he can't do this shit without a cigarette right now. "Spikey, can you at least do me the courtesy of pretending you don't think I'm a fucking imbecile."
Vash deflates slightly, shoulders curling in on themselves and that smile finally dropping off his face. "What do you want, Wolfwood?" he asks sullenly.
"What I want, is to not have to watch you drink yourself to death every day. The girls have noticed, hell, the townspeople have noticed."
"I'm still pulling my weight," Vash says, defensively and Wolfwood lets out another furious breath through his nose.
"That's not the fucking point," he says. jabbing Vash in the shoulder.
"Then what is the point," Vash fires back, "Because I don't know what you expect me to do!"
Wolfwood sighs, kneading his forehead with his fingers. "I expect ya to keep going," he says.
Vash just stares at him, open-mouthed for a moment, before speaking in a horrible tone of voice, "Of course," he says, "I didn't — I wasn't thinking."
Wolfwood stares back before realization dawns on him, "Oh for Christ's sake. That's not what I meant, goddammit can't a guy be worried about you? Is that so fucking impossible?"
He realizes what he's said as soon as the words are out of his mouth, Vash's eyes are wide in the room, shadows spreading across the floor from the meager light on the ceiling.
He knows he can't take it back and worse, he doesn't think he wants to. He's known it for some time in his head, in the places he pretends don't exist, the shadowy darkness in his own mind where the things that scare even him reside. The realization, the dragging of his care for Vash out into the light is almost too much and he swallows thickly. The silence in the room is oppressive.
"Wolfwood —" Vash begins, and his voice is so soft, not even a wobble from the alcohol, so soft, like he's about to let Wolfwood down easy, give them both a way out of this where they can scrounge some of their dignity back. Wolfwood abruptly is furious, mad at Vash, mad at himself, mad at this stupid world, the way that his care for Vash has to be this hideous, disgusting thing, never able to see the light.
"Shut it," Wolfwood says, and he's grateful that his voice is even. at least to his own ears, "Whatever you're gonna say, just can it. It's fucking stupid, I know, you know, hell, everyone knows, but I'm not taking it back and I don't wanna see you fucking drink yourself to death anymore."
Vash swallows, opens his mouth like he expects Wolfwood to cut him off again. but Wolfwood gestures with his cigarette for Vash to speak. "Okay?" Vash says, voice lilting up at the end in uncertainty.
"You're not sleeping," Wolfwood says. gesturing to the deep bags under Vash's eyes, "I'm sure as shit you're not eating anything but booze. What are you tryna do, spikey, kill yourself?"
Vash swallows again, and to Wolfwood's horror, he can see wetness budding in the corner of Vash's eyes. "Maybe?" Vash says, hesitantly, and then before Wolfwood can respond he keeps going, "Not really, but just, y'know," he makes a wobbly gesture with his hand. "I thought maybe —" Vash hesitates, "I thought maybe you wouldn't want to guide me anymore. After, well, what happened in Dragon's Nest."
Wolfwood coughs on a drag of his cigarette, "S'nothing I didn't already know," he says, gruffly.
Vash looks at him, sorrow in his eyes, "There's a difference between knowing and whatever that was."
"Look, needle-noggin, I can't pretend we weren't all scared shitless," Vash opens his mouth to respond and Wolfwood holds up a hand to silence him, "Shut it, I'm talkin' here. We were all scared shitless, right? But you were too. We all fucking know that, even shortstack."
At the mention of Meryl's nickname, the tears bubbling in the corner of Vash's eyes spill free, it's nothing like his wide-eyed performative crying, just a few trails of wetness making their way down his cheeks. "I —" Vash says, visibly at a loss for words, "I can't believe I did that to her."
"Yeah well," Wolfwood says, taking a drag off his cigarette, "She doesn't hold it against ya, so stop beating yourself up over it."
"You don't know that," Vash protests.
"Pretty sure I do," Wolfwood responds, easily, "She's been just as worried about you as me and the big girl."
"Wolfwood —" Vash starts again, but Wolfwood can tell it's going to be more of how Vash is wrong, how he scared them, how Wolfwood should really just let him go on to the end of their journey alone and Wolfwood has had quite enough of that. thank you very much.
The thing is, Vash had scared him. Still scares him, if he's being honest, looking at Vash's big sad eyes and knowing what lurks underneath. But he's so tired of being afraid, so tired of waiting for whatever comes next. So for now, he pushes the fear aside in favor of the worry, and moves on.
"Sleep." Wolfwood says firmly. "That's what you need. Think ya need to sleep for a week, if I'm bein' honest, but I'll settle for eight good hours tonight."
Vash looks away and makes a face. "Whassat for," Wolfwood asks.
"I've tried," Vash says listlessly, "I can't —" he takes a shaky breath, "Every time I fall asleep I see it again. July."
Ah. That makes sense, Wolfwood knows Vash is no stranger to nightmares any more than Wolfwood himself is, they've shared enough hotel rooms to know the familiar signs of the other waking up in a cold sweat in the bed beside them. Still, "You ever tried sharin'?" Wolfwood asks, "A bed, I mean. For the nightmares. Used to help the kids."
And that's all he'll say, all he ever allows himself to let Vash know of the reason he has to keep going. But it's enough, it always is, and Vash's wet eyes look up at him blearily, too tired and too drunk to even be shocked at the suggestion. "We can give it a try?" he says, hesitantly, and that's good enough for Wolfwood.
He drags Vash into his room to pick up his pajamas and they head down the hall to the bathroom to brush their teeth side by side, Vash is still curling in on himself, making himself smaller like if Wolfwood realizes it's really him, he'll change his mind.
Eventually they make it back to Wolfwood's room and they get in bed, Vash holding himself at the edge of the mattress, careful not to touch Wolfwood with any part of his body.
Wolfwood lets out a breath and let's bad decisions take over once again, reaching out to pull Vash close, until Vash's back is flush with his chest. He tenses, briefly and all over before relaxing into Wolfwood's grip, sinking into the mattress.
"You're a good person, Wolfwood," Vash whispers into the darkness of the room.
Wolfwood doesn't have the energy to fight him on it, simply holding Vash tighter in his arms as they both drift off to sleep.