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The wind swept across the desert, fine grains of sand biting against skin and coat, but Vash didn’t flinch. His red duster fluttered around his legs, a peaceful expression on his face. He sat on a rock, one knee drawn up, eyes closed to the midday sun.
Nearby, the clatter of metal and the low hum of conversation filled the camp. Wolfwood cursed as he dropped a piece of cookware, the sound echoed by Milly’s gasp.
“It’s not that hard, Nicholas!” Milly called out, hands on her hips, rolling her eyes but clearly not being really mad at him. Still, it was telling that she didn´t just laugh it off.
Wolfwood growled, low and harmless. “Yeah, well, let’s see you make coffee without blowing sand into it.”
“Children,” Meryl said flatly from her seat by the fire, flipping a page in her worn notebook. “You’re both worse than rookies.”
The tension was easy, familiar, and balanced—most of the year. But now... now the air was thick with something else. Not just sand and sun. Something biological. Something instinctual.
Milly and Wolfwood were in rut.
Not that anyone had to say it aloud. It was obvious. Their postures were stiffer, their movements hyperaware. Milly had started sleeping closer to Vash without comment, and Wolfwood’s scowl had become a near-constant fixture anytime someone dared look at their omega the wrong way in town.
Their omega.
Vash smiled as he listened to them argue over coffee, his body loose and relaxed. He knew the signs. He knew how this went. Once a year, the alphas went into rut, and once a year, he became the center of their world.
He didn’t mind. Not really.
Not when their growling was so easily soothed with a look, not when their hands were gentle even if their hormones screamed for aggression. Not when being doted on—even excessively—filled something in his chest that he usually kept tucked away.
He knew that both alphas were well-aware that he was more than capable of defending himself, but these damn hormones just messed with their brains. And Vash, for once, indulges them in being pliant and docile, his inner omega secretly enjoying being pempered and coddled.
And besides... he could handle them. He was Vash the Stampede, after all.
Not that you’d know it from the way Milly wrapped a shawl around his shoulders for the third time that morning.
“There,” she said, beaming. “You’re not cold, are you, Vash?”
“In the middle of the desert?” Meryl muttered, not even looking up.
Vash just smiled, soft and bright. “Not cold. But I appreciate it, Milly.”
Wolfwood was less subtle. When a merchant had brushed against Vash in town yesterday—barely a touch, and entirely accidental—Nicholas had nearly swung the punisher at him.
“You know he doesn’t need protection, right?” Meryl had hissed, yanking him back by the arm.
“Doesn’t matter,” Wolfwood had growled under his breath. “He shouldn’t have touched him.”
“You’re in rut. You're lucky Vash didn’t throw you through a wall.”
But Vash hadn’t. He hadn’t even flinched.
He had just stood there, letting Wolfwood stand between him and the merchant, his hands tucked neatly in front of him, eyes downcast, the very picture of a delicate, dependent omega. It was just for show, of course. But Vash knew that playing the act of an omega who needs help eased something in their alphas, so he just went with it.
Meryl had wanted to roll her eyes straight out of her skull. Really, Vash could be a little more stern with their alphas during their rut!
It had worked wonders for her. Because OF COURSE they had tried the protection-shenanigans with her as well. But nope, she had none of it. It was a battle, full of stressed whines from the alphas because Meryl did not let them treat her the same way that Vash did.
But after a few ruts they got the message and now only very subtly – as if Merly wouldn´t realize that – keep her closer than usual. Now Vash got even more of the full-force of their rut thanks to it but Meryl couldn´t really find it in herself to feel sorry.
Vash seemed totally fine with it anyways.
That night, as the sun dipped below the horizon and the wind turned cool, the pack settled into their usual arrangements: Vash between the two alphas, Meryl near the fire, her back to them but listening with half an ear.
Wolfwood kept shifting.
“You’re twitching again,” Vash murmured, voice warm and teasing.
“Am not.”
“You are,” Milly said, and she was far too smug about it. “It’s the hormones. You wanna keep patrolling. You wanna keep guarding.”
“Damn right I do,” Wolfwood muttered. “Some drifter comes sniffing around and—”
“They won’t,” Milly said, too cheerful. “Not with us here.”
“And even if they did,” Vash added, nuzzling into the blanket Milly had wrapped around him, “I can handle myself.”
The words were true. The threat implicit. But still, he didn't move when Wolfwood reached out, thumb brushing gently along Vash’s jaw.
“I know you can,” the alpha murmured. “But let me do this. Just for a while.”
Meryl, from the fire: “You two are hopeless.”
“Three,” Milly said brightly. “You forgot me!”
“Right. All of you are hopeless.”
Morning brought more of the same. Vash was carried—yes, carried—across the rocky terrain when the path got too steep. Milly insisted. Wolfwood grumbled, but didn’t object. Vash laughed the whole time, limbs loose in the alpha’s arms like it was the most natural thing in the world.
People in the next town stared.
Of course they did.
A tall woman and a scowling man bristling with alpha energy flanking a clearly pampered omega, trailed by a small, unimpressed beta woman who looked like she’d seen it all before.
“I think you’re enjoying this a little too much,” Meryl muttered as they reached the inn.
“Me?” Vash blinked innocently. “Never.”
Wolfwood snorted. “He’s soaking this up like a damn sponge.”
“Don’t you have a perimeter to sniff out?” Meryl said dryly.
“Already did. Twice.”
“Of course you did.”
The inn wasn’t much—four rooms, two lanterns, and one suspicious innkeeper—but it was quiet, and the beds were clean. That was all the pack really needed.
Milly and Wolfwood didn’t even discuss sleeping arrangements. Vash was settled in the middle bed, and before he could even fold the blanket back, Milly was fluffing pillows and tucking them around him like a nesting instinct had taken the wheel. Wolfwood hovered near the door, arms crossed, senses sharp, tail end of his rut still riding high.
Vash sat on the edge of the bed, one leg swinging, watching them with fond amusement.
“You two are being ridiculous,” Meryl said, brushing past them with her bag and a sigh. “Vash, blink twice if you need rescuing.”
“I feel very rescued already,” Vash said sweetly, drawing the blanket around his shoulders like a shawl. “I’ve got a living wall and a walking furnace.”
“I heard that,” Milly chirped.
“I meant you.”
“Flattery won’t get you out of being carried tomorrow.”
Vash only smiled. He wasn’t trying to get out of anything. Not really.
Because something in him—something he didn’t always let surface—liked this. Liked the closeness, the way his pack leaned in, instincts humming loud. He didn’t need the protection, but being wanted like this—being treasured—pressed on something deep and secret.
It wasn’t often he let himself enjoy that part of being an omega. It was too complicated. He was too powerful. Most people didn’t know what to make of him—an omega with godlike strength and centuries behind his eyes.
But Milly and Wolfwood? They didn’t question it. They just followed instinct.
Even when it was inconvenient. Or annoying. Or slightly ridiculous.
Like now.
Like when a knock sounded at the door, and Wolfwood was already in front of Vash before anyone could blink, one hand on his cross punisher, eyes narrowed like a blade.
The knock came again. Tentative. Polite.
“Innkeeper,” a voice called through the wood. “Just lettin’ you know the water pump’s busted. Might be a dry night.”
Wolfwood didn’t answer. Just waited. Still. Guarding.
Milly was up next, smoothing her shirt, gaze sharp despite her usual sunshine demeanor. She approached the door, cracked it open an inch, and only relaxed once the scent of the innkeeper—older, neutral, beta—wafted through.
“Thanks for the heads up,” she said, voice cheerful but firm.
The door shut again with a solid thunk.
“Both of you,” Meryl said from her corner, arms crossed, “are a few minutes away from forming a perimeter with your own bodies.”
“Wouldn’t be the worst idea,” Wolfwood muttered.
“Nick,” Vash said gently. “It’s just a busted pump.”
“I don’t like how close this town is to the canyon pass. Too many places to set up an ambush.”
“It’s not an ambush,” Meryl said. “It’s a plumbing problem.”
Vash chuckled and pulled the blanket higher. “It’s okay. Let them fuss. It’ll pass.”
It would pass. Eventually. Once the hormonal tide ebbed, once instincts returned to baseline, once Milly stopped carrying him like a prized object and Wolfwood stopped snarling at shadows.
But for now... he could be docile. He could lean in.
“Come here,” he murmured to Wolfwood, patting the bed.
The alpha hesitated. Then obeyed.
He was careful, always careful, to make himself smaller when near Vash like this. Even in rut, he reined it in, wary of pushing too far. He sank to the edge of the bed and exhaled, tension slowly bleeding from his shoulders.
Vash reached up, brushed a hand through Wolfwood’s hair.
“You’re trying so hard,” he whispered.
Wolfwood’s eyes slid shut. “You don’t know what it’s like.”
“I do. I’m an omega, remember?”
“Not like this. Not with this pull. I just—I look at you and all I want to do is—” He stopped. Cleared his throat. “—guard. Stand between you and the world.”
“And I let you.”
“You shouldn’t have to. You’re stronger than both of us.”
“I know. That’s not the point.”
Vash pressed his forehead to Wolfwood’s shoulder, warm and unafraid.
“The point,” he said softly, “is that you need to do this right now. And I don’t mind.”
From the corner, Meryl sighed. “This is weirdly tender for a group of outlaws.”
She set up her cot near a corner window. “If I hear you dragging Vash around like a teddy bear again, I’m sleeping on the roof.”
“No promises,” Milly said, unrolling her blanket.
Vash chuckled. “You really think I’d let them carry me if I didn’t want it?”
Meryl looked over her shoulder, dry as dust. “I think you’re a menace who gets a little too much joy out of being the world’s most overpowered damsel.”
“Not damsel,” Vash said, settling cross-legged on a pew. “Just… adored.”
Milly grinned. “You are adored.”
Wolfwood muttered, “Damn right he is.”
Later, when the fire was low and the moon cast long shadows through broken stained glass, Vash felt it again—that stillness. The way the bond between them softened but remained strong. The way the intensity of their instincts gave way to quiet devotion.
He lay on his side, nestled between Milly and Wolfwood, each of them tucked in protectively close. Milly’s breath was slow and steady against his back. Wolfwood’s arm was draped over his waist, heavy and warm.
“You awake?” Vash whispered.
A grunt. “Barely,” Wolfwood replied.
Vash turned slightly. “You feeling better?”
“Less murdery. Still possessive. Less… stupid.”
Vash laughed softly. “You were never stupid.”
Wolfwood opened one eye. “I tried to fight a bartender because he touched your hand.”
“Well. Maybe a little stupid.”
Wolfwood rolled his eyes and let them drift shut again.
“You let us,” he said after a moment. “You could’ve shut us down at any time. Why didn’t you?”
Vash was quiet. Then, gently: “Because I liked it.”
Wolfwood blinked.
“I like being strong,” Vash said. “But sometimes… it’s nice to be small. To let go. To be cared for. Even if I don’t need it.”
He shifted closer, pressing his forehead to Wolfwood’s chest. “And I trust you. Both of you. I know you’d never hurt me. Even when your instincts are loud.”
Behind him, Milly stirred and wrapped an arm around his shoulders, pulling him snugly into the center of their little pack pile.
“We’d never let anything hurt you,” she murmured sleepily.
“I know.”
Meryl’s voice came from the other side of the room. “Are you seriously having a cuddle confession circle?”
“Go to sleep, Meryl,” Milly said, not opening her eyes.
“I’m surrounded by emotionally codependent wolves.”
“And you love it,” Vash said with a grin.
“…I tolerate it.”