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Wolfwood has had it. Correction, Wolfwood had already had it about too-many iles ago, and now he was running on pure exhaustion- being only fueled by lingering adrenaline and the sheer amount of nervous small-talk coming from his charge-turned-companion.
His hands ached, his arms and back sore in equal measure from the posture and muscle control required to keep Angelina upright and straight as they rode through the sand dunes, head forward and eyes locked on the small speck in the distance that Vash had assured him was definitely still a town.
A town with lively businesses doing honest work, friendly people, and not as much violence lurking around every corner or dark alley as some of their more recent stops, Vash had claimed.
“Y’know, ‘New’ New Marchen,” Vash had said as he un-helpfully tried to jog Nicholas’ shit memory of which town still stood where. “‘Cause, some years back, New Marchen went under- you know how it goes, corrupt local government and all that- well anyways, along comes this wealthy benefactor who wanted to, uh, revitalize the town, and he re-named it ‘New’ New Marchen to honor the origins-“
At this point, and after deciding that he himself could have come up with a better town name than fucking “‘New’ New Marchen”, Wolfwood slowly starts to tune out Vash's rambling, focusing instead on the possibility of a bed (a real bed, not a bed roll or a couch) under a roof, and instead uses the familiar tone of Vash’s voice over Angelina’s engine to zero in on their destination on the horizon.
It's admittedly tough to keep his thoughts in order right now. It's ridiculously hot, for one. The twin suns are at starting to really hit, blazing straight through the black fabric of his suit. Then, there's the other problem sitting in his sidecar.
Vash had taken a bullet to his upper arm earlier today, which he denies taking for Wolfwood in a momentary lapse in attention. Wolfwood is still deciding how he wants to feel about that, but for now he settles on keeping his mouth shut.
His grip tightens a bit more around the cracked leather handlebars. Reducing his attention to only Vash to only background noise was mean, he knew that. But Vash only started that slightly quicker-than-usual cadence and meandering talk when he was feeling worried over something, or when he was intentionally trying to distract Wolfwood.
It didn't exactly piss him off, but it did annoy him, to a degree.
Several iles back earlier in the morning, and being low on supplies, they had both stopped by a smaller-than-small no name town. Town is generous really, it was more like a small strip of pot-holed asphalt and a general goods store. All seemed well and fine at first, until the general store clerk recognized Vash and his accompanying bounty, and decided to get a little trigger happy.
But traveling with Vash meant he couldn't shoot back, especially not at a lone civilian. He was getting sort of used to this- running from danger instead of aiming at anyone who posed a credible threat. A far cry from who he feels he is, and what he should be doing compared to the man who’s riding alongside him.
Sand battering his sunglasses, he spares another quick glance over at Vash sitting next to him, and blinks when he sees Vash's face scrunched up a bit more than usual. Must be hurtin'.
He knows Vash is okay, and knows that Vash took the bullet because he can. He’s seen how he heals, the muscle and insides of him beneath skin twisting and contracting to slowly push out bullets and debris, healing up after a tiny bit of cleaning and only leaving a shiny pink mark not even a few hours later.
But getting shot still hurts, the bones he break still hurt, and the emotional toll of it all still hurts and he knows that from the poorly hidden grimace Vash is sporting that he’s not feeling so hot right now.
“If I'm right,”, Vash grunts out, trying to feign a casual tone but still loud enough over the sand and the engine and the wind, “I'm pretty sure I stayed there for a week at least once, give or take.”
Wolfwood scoffs, keeping his eyes on the open expanse of endless sand in front of them.
"'New' New Marchen?"
With how Vash old Vash is, who knows when the hell that last was. He's suddenly feeling antsy again, doubting this town is actually functional. After some more light prodding (and whining) from Vash’s part, and another glance at his awkwardly moving flesh and blood arm sporting a still fresh bullet wound, he concedes and decides to try their luck.
Just a few hours and one suns-bleached, sandblasted sign promising ‘10 iles til charming New Marchen!’ later, Wolfwood finally feels himself exhale. He looks over and carefully eyes Vash, who nodded off at some point on their way in.
They roll through the town entrance and- well, damn. It’s a hell of a lot nicer than Wolfwood was expecting, that’s for sure. It’s hard to put a slice of paradise in the hell-like landscape that covers most of this dust-ball planet, but whoever this mysterious benefactor is, they’re really trying to make it work.
"Oy, wake up. I think we made it," he says, lightly flicking Vash's forehead. "Look familiar?"
Vash squints his eyes, stretching upright and taking in the new scenery in front of him.
What the small town lacks in greenery, it makes up for in cleanliness. The side-paths are framed neatly by gravel, the road smooth and looking freshly tamped down, buildings and store-fronts up-kept with fresh coats of light tan paint with jewel toned shutters still properly secured on their hinges.
Wolfwood lets out a quiet whistle as they coast by slowly, trying to keeping the noise from the bike down in what feels like should be a quiet area. The twin suns are just starting to descend, and he’s trying to be at least a little courteous to the folks who live here.
“Well, what next, Spikey?” He watches Vash tilts his head this way and that, humming. His glasses catch the light in a now-familiar way, and Wolfwood can feel himself relaxing a single degree. Must be feeling a little better.
“Last I was here, they had just finished building the Grand Verdin.” He pauses to consider, blonde hair starting to fall a bit towards his face. “That was, I don’t know. Maybe fifteen-ish years ago? Can't remember, but it should still be around."
He looks up at Wolfwood, blue eyes still showing a lingering sleepiness from earlier, but he's starting to wake up. "S’where I stayed last. Keep going straight and it should be somewhere on the right- or left, I don’t recall for sure… It’s big though, can’t miss it.”
He’s got a little more energy now, Wolfwood thinks, silently hoping that he’s not just feigning that his injury no longer hurts. It wouldn't be the first time. “Alright”, he says, and kicks Angelina back into gear.
It’s big alright. Fucking massive, compared to the bar and inn room duplexes they've shared before. The Grand Verdin boasts a large lime-washed bright white plaster-coated two-floor inn, with giant white columns to match. Deep emerald green shutters frame the generous amount of windows- this place is a luxury in the middle of nowhere.
A single sand dusted bronze lantern swings faintly from a chain overhead, screwed into a painted light blue porch ceiling. It squeaks on its rusted chain as they open the large stained ornate wooden doors and cross the threshold the reception.
This has to be expensive, Wolfwood thinks. There’s no way they’ve got enough between them to cover even a square meter of this place. It's got mock air conditioning, for Gods sake.
He feels a fan mounted to the corner of the reception area blowing even more cool air on his sweat and sand caked hair, the suns warmed back of his neck. Fuck it, he decides. Vash can make the decision for them, and he closes his eyes for a blissful few seconds.
He’s trying to pry them back open when he hears the rustling of Vash’s coat, already walking up to the innkeeper, metal hand digging in his pockets for a handful of double-dollars. The innkeeper is a stout, older man with tiny eye glasses and a vest that same shade of deep green that matches the shutters on the inn.
Wolfwood is zoning out again, feeling fine to turn his brain off for the first time today, when he hears “Well my goodness gracious, why, is that you, Vash?”
Oh, for the love of- of course he knows the innkeeper. Vash knows goddamn everyone. He hears Vash trying to play it cool, mostly succeeding, but still doing his trademark awkward chuckle as he leans his mechanical arm on the counter for leverage.
“Haha, yeah, it's me! Just stopping through- I brought a friend with me this time." He says, throwing a thumb over at a Wolfwood who is still stuck in place by the cool moving air of the fan. "Been a while, figured I’d stop by and see how things are going.”
Geez, this fucking guy. Wolfwood thinks, watching the scene play out over the lenses of his glasses. And calling Wolfwood a friend, no less. At least he’s halfway right. They were stopping through, just running from bullets on the way. Not exactly inspiring sight-seeing material.
But blessedly, the innkeeper buys it, and after some memory lane strolling and haphazard updates (and Vash brushing off enough inquiries about why he still looks the exact same as fifteen years ago to make even Wolfwood feel antsy, they’ve got a brass key that goes to a single room, on the house. Jackpot.
Vash somehow knowing someone in every place they stop still gives Wolfwood the creeps, but he’s slowly coming to terms with it- just another small part of Vash’s lack of (at least physical) humanity that he’s growing to accept.
“Alright, jacket and shirt off.” He demands, wasting no time once they walk through the door.
“Aww, so forward, Wolfwood…” Vash scratches his cheek sheepishly, feigning bashfulness. Wolfwood shoots him a glare that he hopes conveys 'not in the mood for your shit', and Vash picks up the memo.
“Kidding! Was just kinda hoping you forgot about that… but look! See? It’s already healed!” Sure enough, he pulls his arm out of his jacket sleeve,and rolls up the sleeve of his black turtleneck as high as it'll go. Underneath the smeared and caked dried blood, there’s a small puckered patch of skin.
“I worked the bullet out on the way here,” he smiles, a little too proudly. “Good as new! Want to feel for yourself?”
Vash makes to sit down on one of- wait, the one bed? Oh for the love of- "Don't sit on the bed while you're coated in sand and gunpowder," Wolfwood quips before he can stop himself.
Wolfwood exhales in annoyance. He drags his eyes forcefully away from Vash’s bicep, the curve of his muscle as it disappears under the black of his undershirt. He turns away and tries not to think too hard about it, patting down his pockets in search of a smoke while taking in the room. He needs a distraction.
“Like hell you worked it out. Didn’t see you move your other arm the entire time.” He eyes the nearest window, making his way over to open the screen and light up.
“Okay, okay, geez-”, Vash starts. He's chosen instead to sit on the floor, working at the laces on his boots, long legs folded up. He flashes a small smile up at Wolfwood, eyes crinkling at the corners and color starting to come back in his face. It's doing funny things to Wolfwood's heart.
“Fine, I didn’t remove the bullet, my biology did. Happy?”
"Yeah, yeah, feeling ecstatic. Now, you gonna go shower up first?" Wolfwood is looking for any excuse to get Vash out of his vicinity, he needs a Vash-free zone for at least a few moments or he's going to start thinking harder than he wants to.
"Aww, you're letting me go first? Figured you'd want first dibs after driving us around all day…" Vash sing-songs, dragging himself off the floor and over to his duffel bag to dig for his toiletries. "If you're insistent though, I won't say no."
Wolfwood plucks a cigarette from the smashed up pack he turns up, and moves to figure out how to unlatch their hotel room window. "Nah Spikey, I insist. 'Sides, you stink."
"Hey! If I recall, we've had the same amount of access to a shower in the past few days, and that's zero." He pouts, making his way to their shared bathroom. "Fine, I guess I will go first. I'll make sure to use all of our warm water allowance, while I'm at it."
Wolfwood restrains himself from firing back a "Wouldn't be the first time anyways, Spikey," and sinks down into a wooden rocking chair by the window. He's cherishing the now quiet room with the soft noise of the shower. It's a welcome reprieve from the events of the day, and he can feel himself slowly start to relax, mind wandering.
The room is nice, but the single bed is at the front of his thoughts. Lately when they lay down for the night Wolfwood has been letting his imagination get the best of him- a bad habit; and he finds it's even worse in a shared space like an inn, or sorry, a shared inn room bed.
It started off as a way to unwind- after all, Vash is nice, and nice to look at, and it kind-of sort-of distracts him from some of the rock heavy guilt that sits deep in his gut when he remembers that he’s bringing Vash to Knives, and that he won't get to enjoy Vash's company forever.
His cigarette burns down to the filter and the ash meets his fingers until a knock comes at the door, and he nearly jumps out of his skin at both sensations.
Hand on his gun, he carefully opens the door a sliver to see a woman staring up at him and cracks the door open further. She has on a dress similar in color to the man's getup downstairs- hotel staff?
She’s tall- lightly tanned with round, freckled cheeks and dark brown hair tied neatly behind her. Her eyes are dark, and turn down a little as she smiles- She looks like the kinds of girls that Wolfwood has seen on posters modeling frilly expensive dresses and white gloves in the bigger cities.
He looks down at her hands, eyeing what she’s holding. Did Vash order food?
“Is Mr. Vash here?” She asks, holding up the delicate looking plate a little higher. “I brought by fresh biscuits and wanted to say hi to him in person.”
Mr. Vash, he thinks. It sounds so out of place coming from anyone but Milly.
“He’s occupied at the moment”, he tries, averting his gaze. “I can pass these along to him and let him know someone stopped by, though.” He's trying to think of why this woman would want to talk to Vash. Surely she knows about his bounty- he can't stop the feeling of suspicion.
She passes the plate to him through the door and smiles. “Thank you! And it’s Wendy,” She dusts her hands on her dress front, giving a soft smile. "Wendy Verdin. I take care of odds and ends around the hotel. And you're his…?"
His? He thinks. Traveling companion? Shepherd to slaughter? Babysitter? Friend?
"Traveling companion of the moment," he decides on. "Nicholas D. Wolfwood." He puts out his palm in greeting and she returns the gesture, gently shaking his hand.
"Well it's great to meet you, Mr. Wolfwood!" She shifts her weight to her heels, prattling on. "And just so you both know, we start serving supper at seven. Stop by the dining hall if we need to set aside a plate for you two, okay?”
Wolfwood nods idly as she carries on. "And if you need anything at all, please don't hesitate to let me know, just come by reception." She clasps her hands together as she makes to leave, her hospitality script done.
She glances over her shoulder, soft eyes crinkling with another smile as she moves to shut the door behind her. “Oh, and please don’t forget to tell Mr. Vash that Wendy says hello.”
The biscuits are perfectly rounded, flakey on the edges, glistening with butter. He can practically taste the salt from where he's standing. Picking one up and biting into the flakey dough, he lets out a near audible moan. And she brought these for Vash? Well, I’m just as much a guest as he is.
He chews slowly while looking around the room. The wooden floors shine; the air smells - clean? Not like the usual stale sweat and dust from previous places they’ve stayed in.
The room has soft-looking lace curtains, expensive, he thinks- absently noting that he probably shouldn’t smoke in here again or the smell will cling to them. He feels wildly out of place and in awe at the same time. It's almost too indulgent.
He’s snapped out of his thoughts by the sound of the shower creaking to a stop and the pattering of water droplets hitting every possible surface, Wolfwood conjuring to mind the image of Vash shaking his hair out like a dog. Idiot.
Desperately willing his thoughts elsewhere before they develop further or lower, he hears Vash open the bathroom door.
“They have little soaps! One for the sink and the shower. Two!” He can practically hear the grin in his voice accompanying the enthusiasm.
Wolfwood quickly averts his eyes anywhere else, forcing on the most nonchalant face he can make. Don't look at him, don't look at him!
“That so? Lord knows you need two bars of soap after how you’ve been stinking to high heaven the past few days.” He teases, finally sparing a glance at his companion and oh thank God almighty, he's already dressed in his casual clothes.
Vash makes a face, scrunching his nose in an attempt to look truly offended. With his skin still pinked from showering and his blonde hair damp and clinging to his forehead, he looks the exact opposite of the deadly gunslinger he’s talked up to be. Younger, a lot softer around the edges.
He almost looks cute like this, Wolfwood thinks, mind beginning to race again until the subject of his distractions pulls him out of his head.
This is starting to feel too intimate. He needs to change the subject to something, anything- his mind mercifully bringing back the woman from earlier.
"By the way, one of the hotel staff came by looking for you."
That gets Vash's attention, and he looks up from shuffling his stuff around in his bag. "Huh? Mr. Verdin? The man from earlier?"
"No, a woman. Tall, dark hair, she brought by those-" he says, gesturing at the biscuits. Vash whips his head to the plate of biscuits and cuts him off.
"You didn't tell me we had food!" he exclaims, scrambling off the floor. Wolfwood sighs, beginning to rummage through his own belongings to busy his hands.
"Yeah, well, slipped my mind I guess," I was distracted by someone, he thinks. "She said she wanted to say hello. Her name's Wendy."
Vash makes the face he makes when he's thinking, eyes drifting off to the side and dark eyebrows knitting in. A light bulb goes off. "Oh! Wendy! What a nice surprise."
Huh?
So he does know her? Well, Vash knows everyone, so it's not that shocking. Wolfwood thinks, but he can't seem to stop himself from prying.
"So… you know her?" He's just curious- that's all. About this mystery acquaintance and or friend of Vash's.
"Oh, I know her from way back," he says around a mouthful of biscuit. "I've got to say hello- it's been so long. Oh man, these are divine." He's talking quickly now, clearly excited.
"She said they're serving supper soon, and we can help ourselves to a plate. Not sure how much it'll cost, though…"
"Oh, Mr. Verdin said food is free of charge- no need to worry about that," Vash replies, roughly running his fingers through his hair an in attempt to style it.
"I'm gonna go downstairs and find her, she's probably still working, though…" He moves to tug on his coat, covering up a little more. "Oh! How about this- you go wash up, and by the time you're done, I'll be back up to our room. It'll be just a little while. I'll bring you something back to eat!"
Wolfwood is being so calm about this right now. Vash is excited enough to see a beautiful acquaintance-friend-person of his from years gone by that he's rushing to go see her, and Wolfwood is going to be so relaxed about it. He feels so normal right now that he isn't sure why he feels nauseous at the same time.
"Alright- but be careful, damn it." Wolfwood's not thinking that this town is high on the crime list with how quaint and tidy everything seemed on the drive in, but Vash is a magnet for trouble even in the calmest of places.
"I will, I will! I'll be back up in just a bit." And with the close of the door, the room falls into silence.
It's just curiosity, Wolfwood tells himself, shuffling into the bathroom. It's what he tells himself the entire time he waits for Vash to come back.
It's been "just a bit" and Vash isn't back.
Wolfwood exits the shower and the room is still devoid of one loud-mouth human typhoon. He really took his time, savoring the warm water that Vash did leave, and expected to see him back by now. Vash being gone for a while doesn't exactly bother him, but Vash being gone for a a while in a town unfamiliar to Wolfwood does.
He quickly throws back on his clothes from earlier today, shaking out the sand as much as he can while making a mental apology to whoever had to clean this room after him. Wolfwood decides to check the dining hall first, given Vash's mention of bringing back their dinner.
After winding this way and that through the halls, he finds himself facing a large room with deep brown, shining wooden floors and a few rows of tables to match, one of which is populated by a head of blonde spikey hair.
Wolfwood sighs in relief. Thank god he's still here and not off getting into trouble or causing it.
He makes his way over to where Vash is sitting, first noticing his terrible table manners as he sees the him shoveling spoonful after spoonful of some kind of orange mixture into his mouth. The second thing he notices is that Wendy is sitting across from him with her head propped in her hands, smiling while watching Vash with a face somehow free of disgust as he continues to inhale the contents of his plate in front of her.
Her long dark hair from earlier is now unbraided and hangs loosely over her shoulders, and she looks much less formal than she did upstairs.
"You should slow down you know, there's no rush," she says to him playfully, glancing over Vash's shoulder at Wolfwood. "Oh, your companion came down to join you!"
Companion, sure, something like that, Wolfwood thinks. He's not sure why he feels apprehensive to sit down and join them; he suddenly feels like he's intruding on something. There's other guests in the dining hall, but they're all seated elsewhere, leaving Vash and Wendy alone at their table. It feels just a little intimate, aside from the empty third seat.
Wolfwood tries and fails to not mentally start ripping his hair out. This is fine, he tries to convince himself. Vash is a grown man, he's allowed to spend time with whoever he wants, even if the whoever in question is a gorgeous woman who is clearly interested in him for some reason he can't fathom.
The only thing betraying the weirdly romantic mood between the two is Vash's total obliviousness to the situation, still inhaling his plate like it's going to be taken from him at a moment's notice.
Vash looks back at him and smiles apologetically, clearly he's enjoying himself between the food and his company but still managing to be sheepish about the whole thing.
"Oh, Wolfwood! I'm sorry, I was going to come back up, honest, but I ran into Miss Wendy..." He wipes his hands on the table cloth (rude, Wolfwood notes) before gesturing to the woman across from him. "Wendy, this is Wolfwood. Wolfwood, Wendy."
"Mr. Wolfwood and I met earlier, silly. Remember?" Wendy says, picking up a deep green cloth napkin and passing it to Vash. She looks up at Wolfwood, cheeks rosey. "Isn't that right, Mr. Wolfwood? And thank you for passing along my message- It's been so long since I've gotten to see this one." She nods her head at Vash, who has resumed devouring his dinner.
"Just Wolfwoods' fine," he mumbles, suddenly feeling a bit warm. He really doesn't feel like he belongs here. "And don't mention it, Spikey here would've made his way down here whether I said something or not, I'm sure of it."
Vash swallows his mouthful and tilts his face to look up at Wolfwood. "Hey, what's that supposed to mean?"
Wendy smoothly steers the conversation back to Wolfwood, sidestepping Vash's attempt to bicker.
"I was wondering when you would come down to try some of tonight's menu. We cook everything in house, you know." She says, warm and sweet, looking him right in the eyes. "And we make a really nice pie."
Wolfwood can barely focus on what she's saying, he feels like she's subtly telling him he's interrupted their alone time. He tells himself that Wendy is just being hospitable and catching up with Vash.
"Oh, uh, of course," he starts, still standing awkwardly. "I'm sure the food is great. Awful nice of you and your father to let us stay here for free, Vash filled me in once we got upstairs."
Wendy covers her mouth and hides a quiet laugh. Huh? I didn't even say anything funny. Is she laughing at me?
He shifts his weight from one foot to the other, that weird feeling of something uncomfortable growing and starting to constrict his throat. Is it dry in here? He can feel himself struggle to keep conversation with Wendy and now Vash, who is watching his predicament unfold.
Wolfwood, feeling self conscious in front of another person- a total stranger no less- for possibly the first time in years, violently realizes he wants to escape this situation minutes ago.
After all, Vash is clearly fine, no trouble detected as he eats the hotel's kitchen out of the next two days worth of food with a pretty girl at his table for company. Conversation be damned, he's got to find an out here.
"So, Wolfwood", Wendy says, patting the seat next to her. "Are you going to sit down and join us? Vash has telling me all about you, I'd love to hear some more stories from your travels, he's been telling me how adventurous you are…" She trails off, tilting her head a little to the side as she looks up at him, loose dark hair shifting over her shoulders with a teasing expression gracing her features. "Isn't that right, Vash?"
Okay, that's enough.
Between the exhaustion of the day, the comfortable too-lavish interior of their lodgings, and whatever this feeling he keeps feeling is, Wolfwood's tapping out.
He coughs quietly, clearing his throat.
"Actually, I was thinking I might just take my dinner back up to eat and then head to bed. It's been a long day for both of us." He catches Vash's blue eyes staring at him, looking like a kicked puppy.
"Oh, Wolfwood, you sure? I mean, I totally get if you want to head in early, but…" He's making an odd expression- disappoint or something like relief?
Wolfwood is tired of thinking about this.
"Yeah, I'm sure. M' worn out, just the day gettin' to me, I guess. Gonna just eat and turn in." Trying to lighten the mood, he throws in a little jab. "'Sides, I need a little peace and quiet after being around the Human Typhoon all day."
Vash's already hard-to-read expression plummets into a full-on frown, puppy dog eyes reappearing to match. Well shit, so much for lightening the mood.
"I'll catch ya' later," he says, turning towards the buffet. He's trying to get out of here before he says something even more stupid. "Have fun, and try not to cause Miss Wendy too much trouble."
As he's walking away from Vash and Wendy's table, he hears an unusually quiet "'Kay,"- then a pause followed by an even quieter "See ya' in a bit, then."
Back in the room, Wolfwood finds that Wendy is right; the food here is delicious.
He's slowly picking at his hastily fixed plate, sitting at the too-nice table with his socked feet kicked up in the opposite dining chair. In the back of his mind he knows it's poor manners, especially for somewhere as nice as this, but he can't find it in himself to care right now.
He already crossed the line for poor manners earlier anyways, by high-tailing it out of the dining room after being invited to stay longer at Vash and Wendy's shared table.
He feels exhausted, more than usual. More than the suns-addled heat exhaustion that he blamed it on to Vash downstairs, different than what comes from the usual wear and tear that comes from the standard day-to-day affairs of traveling with Vash the Stampede.
What's there to be hung up on? He wonders. Taking stock of the situation they're in, there shouldn't be a damn thing bothering him. Hot shower, fresh food, the cleanest room they've ever stayed in and all for free- Wolfwood should be more relaxed than ever. So why can't he stop fidgeting, feeling on edge?
His mind keeps going back to Vash, who stays upbeat even after a day like today. Vash, who always has a solution when they're in a tight spot. Who can always manage to flash a smile at Wolfwood, even when they're running from whatever ridiculous situation they walked into that day. Vash, who always puts Wolfwood, Nicholas, first. He scoffs at the thought, running his hands through his hair.
Nicholas first, except for when he decides to spend his time with some girl-
Wait.
What?
Wolfwood jolts upright in his chair. Nope, not unpacking that right now.
Momentarily pulled out of his thoughts, he takes stock of how he's feeling physically. Mostly just sore- really sore. The warm shower earlier was nice and eased his aching muscles, but the long day seems to have finally fully caught up with him.
He stretches his arms upwards, empty plate forgotten- he tells himself he'll bring it back downstairs later when there's one less spikey-haired idiot and his companion of the evening. I wonder if he's going to take her back to his room… his mind supplies before shaking the thoughts away.
"Don't be stupid", he grumbles to himself. "We're sharing a room anyways…"
Another idle thought comes up before he can suppress it.
But what if they go up to her room?
The thought of it hits him like a punch to the chest- he drags his way over to slump onto the bed with little fanfare; it's nice. Too clean, too soft. He wants to smoke, but he can't seem to muster the energy to pull himself back up and over to the window.
Besides, he doesn't want to dirty their nice, tidy, complimentary room just because he's feeling stressed, caught up in stupid thoughts, feeling jealous-
Oh, for fuck's sake.
Okay, maybe he's a little jealous. But Wolfwood doesn't get jealous. Of anything. What's there to be jealous of, anyways? It's not like he's anything more to Vash than something to fill his time with on his way to Knives, a makeshift babysitter.
Despite his best attempts, his mind keeps on.
They spend every minute of every hour of every day together. They sit side by side at their makeshift campfires together. They share rooms, they share beds, share a canteen and even share body heat, if the desert blessedly drops in temperature enough…
But they're not together, nothing beyond what they are right now, and Vash isn't tied to him any way that matters. We aren't even friends, he tells himself.
He rolls further into the covers, face smushing into the overly soft pillow, stubble catching on the fabric. He should be grateful he can get even this much from his time with Vash- a veneer of normalcy, borrowed kindness. It's the first time in years his heart has felt this full. The thought makes him sick with guilt. All he knows how to do is take what generosity Vash gives him.
He digs harder at the thought of Vash sitting downstairs with Wendy- he's never until now considered Vash having an eye for anyone in that way, not after all their travels together where he feigns being too drunk to function to get away from advances and propositions from men and women alike.
But with her, he seemed comfortable. Looked it, at least.
The kind of comfortable that Vash gets when it's the two of them together in dingy inns, trying to sleep on the hard, cold ground of a makeshift camp, when they're laughing at something ridiculous over an awful canned dinner.
Maybe she's his type, he wonders. Does Vash even have a type?
He rolls on his back, eyes drifting towards the ceiling, tracing the wood grain. He lets his mind wander back to various romantic-like encounters he can bring up with Vash and other people. There's not a whole lot to draw from.
He pictures Wendy, her dark eyes, crinkled upwards in a smile. Hair thick, glossy and neat. Tall and ladylike— a tanned face, with a small cluster of freckles covering the highs of her cheeks, someone who clearly doesn't shy away from two suns. Someone who can cook delicious things, someone who lives a normal, quiet life far from chaos and violence, and isn't tainted by someone else's blood and decisions…
The thought does nothing to comfort him, it makes him feel sick all over again. It's not like he assumed trying to pull at the threads of these feelings would make him feel any better than he did earlier, anyways. The guilt and newfound envy bring him back down to reality, and he lets his eyes close, trying to will sleep to come.
At least the bed tonight is comfortable, he thinks. And he might get it all to himself.
Vash stumbles back in when both the moons are at their highest.
The first thing he notices is the lamp by the bed is on- that's unusual. Wolfwood always complains if there's even a bit of light when they're sleeping indoors.
He tiptoes into the room cautiously, efforts immediately foiled by the groan of a floorboard. Shit.
Wolfwood bolts upright immediately, hand scrambling for the handgun under his pillow, before he zeroes in on who's in the room with him. He narrows his eyes, face betraying his attempt to not look annoyed at being woken up from.
"Uh," Vash starts awkwardly. "Sorry for waking you up. Was tryin' to be quiet but y'know, floorboards, haha..." He trails off nervously. "Just gonna get ready to go to sleep…"
Wolfwood gives a quiet scoff, leaning forward from where he's pulled himself to sit against the headboard. "What, ya' not gonna go spend some late-night time with Wendy?"
Vash visibly stiffens from his place on the floor, rummaging through his duffel bag. "What gives you the impression that I wanted to spend 'late-night time', whatever that means, by the way, with Wendy?" He shoots back, glaring at Wolfwood warily.
Wolfwood turns his head to face the wall instead. He can't bring himself to look Vash in the eye right now.
Might as well get the rest off his chest, he figures.
"Just seemed like you both were gettin' along real well downstairs earlier."
Vash tilts his head, looking dead at him, damn-near through him. "And?"
"And she just seemed real excited to see 'ya again…" He mumbles, swallowing thickly. His face feels hot, he knows his ears are red. At least it's kind of dark, even with the faint yellow lamplight. Even he can recognize how ridiculous he sounds right now.
Vash gives him one of those fake smiles, feigning ignorance to what Wolfwood's getting at. "There's something wrong with someone being excited to see me? Come on, Wolfwood. That's no fair, you of all people should know how rare this kind of thing is for someone like me."
The shame floods Wolfwood in an instant, thick and heavy. He does know how few and far between it is for Vash to come across people he knows that remember him, and even fewer times does he come across folks he knows that actually like him.
"I know." It comes out small and unsure. Wolfwood can barely recognize his own voice, like this. "Was just feelin' tired, I don't know. I'm overthinkin' things. You're a grown man, you do what you want, talk with who you want. Us sharing a room doesn't change that."
He tries again to look at Vash, now fully dressed in his sleeping clothes and crawling his way into bed. Vash dramatically drops his head onto his own pillow and groans, blonde hair fanning out.
"Oh man, this is luxurious. When's the last time we slept on something this nice?"
Wolfwood first latches onto Vash saying 'we', and then silently gives thanks to any god that will listen that he's mercifully trying to change the subject for Wolfwood's sake. He takes it as his cue to turn off the bedside lamp, an effort to retain more of his dignity, and they both shift under the heavy comforter.
Wolfwood turns away, inching further onto his side of the bed, and attempts to shut his eyes and forget the past few moments of uncharacteristic weakness he had on display.
"So…" Vash starts quietly. Okay, never mind, mercy denied.
"I know Wendy from way back. When I first came through here," he adds. "She was a tiny thing, maybe six years old and bored out of her mind. I kept her company while I did odd jobs for her dad, Mr. Verdin, for a few days."
Oh, Wolfwood thinks. "Oh."
"Yeah," he says softly. "She was just excited to see me again, that's all."
Wolfwood thinks Vash could hear his heartbeat with how quiet the room has become. The shame comes creeping back with a vengeance- he was jealous of someone Vash hasn't seen in over a decade who was more like a long distance relative.
He hears rustling and feels the mattress shift, body heat not his own now radiating onto his back. Vash runs abnormally hot- he has to be just a few centimeters away.
His voice drops lower, and he can feel the warmth of it on his neck when Vash says: "Wanna know what Wendy was asking me about downstairs?"
Wolfwood feels himself still, swallow deafening in his ears. The curiosity gnaws at him, but Vash doesn't give him the chance to reply.
"She was asking me all about you."
"What?"
"Yep," he says, voice still low, a murmur. He swears he can feel Vash grow warmer against his back, like a furnace. "'Was asking me what you do for a living, how long we plan on traveling together, if you've got anyone back home…"
Wolfwood feels dizzy, world momentarily off axis even in his laid down state. This isn't where he thought this conversation would go. Vash continues on, filling the silence.
"Forgive me, but I told her you're spoken for."
Wolfwood wills himself to turn over, facing Vash in the dark of their room. He couldn't string a sentence together right now if he tried.
"And?" He replies dumbly. Vash's eyes are distracting, unnaturally catching the sliver of moons light coming through the curtains.
"She looked pretty disappointed", he says softly. "I decided to hang back and keep her company after you ran off earlier." Wolfwood can feel his heart thrumming, his hands finding comfort in being balled into tight fists.
"Then why'd you tell her I'm spoken for?"
"… I don't know", Vash replies, slowly. He pauses, looking at Wolfwood shyly, guiltily. "Just somethin' about her wanting you made me feel a little jealous." He gives a nervous chuckle. "I'm sorry. It wasn't right of me. And I'm sorry for leaving you up here all night by yourself."
Wolfwood exhales through his nose, unaware he was holding his breath through Vash's admission. At least one of us can admit how they're feeling, he thinks.
"You can spend your time wherever, and with whoever you want, Spikey."
"I know. But I really wanted to spend my time with you."
Wolfwood can feel his over-engineered heart working overtime at his words. Vash is impossibly warm, and he feels consumed by it.
He can't stop himself from leaning in, pulled by an invisible thread, chasing after the man who is always nothing but honest with him, heart on his sleeve day in and out, even now.
Vash's mercy makes a reappearance and Wolfwood finds he doesn't have to move much at all when the blonde leans in to kiss him.
Vash's lips are soft, sweet—patient; Wolfwood hasn't been kissed a lot in his short life, but this is the first time he's felt this encompassed by it and so lost in the feeling.
He's nervous to open his eyes when he feels Vash pull away, the moment over too soon. The room is darker than earlier, but he can practically hear the real smile in Vash's voice.
"M' sorry," he all but whispers. "I don't know what came over me." He brings his metal hand drift to rest comfortably on Wolfwood's side. "Just wanted to feel a little closer to you to make up for earlier."
Wolfwood is grateful that Vash can't see how he flushes at the candidness of his confession. It's so simple, but it's a kind of openness he's never experienced before. He wants to relish the feeling before it's gone.
He tucks himself further into Vash's arms, moving his cold feet towards Vash's legs for warmth. He keeps his voice low, lips still tingling from where Vash just had his own moments ago.
"I can be close to 'ya anytime you want, Spikey."
If Vash hears him, he doesn't say anything. His breathing has already evened out into a slow rhythm, arm slung over Wolfwood's side feeling heavier as he drifts off further into sleep.
Wolfwood can lose himself like this, wrapped in Vash's arms as his eyes slip back closed. Being so close, he can feel everything so clearly; the worn softness of Vash's sleep clothes against his skin, the cool metal of his arm on his side where his shirt is rucked up, warm puffs of Vash's breath into his hair.
He tells himself to not overthink this, that this is enough for now. More than he deserves.
He tells himself that they can talk about whatever this tomorrow, or the next day, or the next.