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“-and the girls on the squad were teasing me again,” Vash huffs, continuing the tirade that he'd started the moment he came out of practice and flung his gym bag into the back of Nick's beat-ass Honda. “And it's really not funny! How am I supposed to be sparkling when they're leaving 'Solo Saverem' doodles in my locker!”
Nick has to stifle a snort at that one, they've definitely gotten more creative in their efforts to torment the easiest target in their high school.
“They're losers, just ignore them.” God knows he always does – couldn't pay him to set foot near that vipers' nest. He's pretty sure half of them would claw the other half's eyes out if they could get away with it, but Vash always insists that it's just good-fun teasing between friends.
Today's pout looks more miserable than good fun.
“I can't,” Vash whines, slumping down into the passenger's seat like a toddler as Nick pulls out of the school parking lot. “Because they're right, I am solo, and we're supposed to have someone's jersey for the stupid pep rally all day at school on Friday, and I'm just gonna be there in my stupid uniform while the rest of them have something from their stupid boyfriends.”
“Sounds stupid,” Nick grunts, not quite getting why this is a problem at all. It's not like Vash isn't single every day – and thank god for that, he doesn't think his heart could take watching him walk around in some other asshole's...
Huh.
“Well you just need anybody's thing to throw over yours, right?” he asks, cutting a glance over to the miserable puddle in his car as he drums his fingers on the steering wheel. “Not like a specific sport or whatever?”
“I'm not using Nai's Mathlethics jacket,” Vash huffs, heated enough that Nick can only figure that idea has been floated and shot down already. “And they said I can't use my own baseball jersey from last spring... and that's not even the point! They're making it sound like I couldn't get one, even if I wanted to! I totally could, maybe!”
Of fucking course he could – anyone with eyes and two brain cells to spark together would jump at the chance to wrap Mr. Sunshine in their jacket and parade him around. Nick has spent three years of high school snarling at interested parties behind Vash's back because nobody deserves him – it's the single point of agreement he and Nai share and probably the only reason they haven't killed each other yet.
And let it not be said that Nicholas D. Wolfwood does not know how to seize an opportunity with his own eyes and two sparking brain cells.
“Why not use mine?” He keeps his tone light, casual even. Eyes steady on the road. Hands definitely not sweaty on the wheel. “You can use my jersey, or the jacket if you want cause I know you get cold.”
“...you'd do that?” Vash asks, and the idiot has the audacity to look surprised when Nick glances over at him. “Even if... you know, people are gonna think-”
“They can think whatever they want,” Nick cuts him off with a roll of his eyes, “Not gonna let you get eaten by a pack of hens who think they're hot shit just because they've got low standards.”
And that's that – he drops Vash off at home later that night with his probably-washed shirt and jacket and figures that'll be the end of it.
But then Vash shows up on Friday and meets him by his locker like he does every morning.
Except this morning he's in his itty bitty cheer skirt and Nick's jersey all tied up over it and his jacket slung over the top; WOLFWOOD proudly emblazoned across Vash's back two layers deep for the entire school to see.
He smashes his elbow on his locker and drops his textbook on his foot. He doesn't feel either of them.
“Ta-da!” The skirt flares out when Vash does a little twirl – thank god he's got a pair of spandex shorts underneath because Nick thinks he might faint if- “I hope you don't mind I tied the shirt up, it's a little long with the skirt otherwise, makes it look like I didn't even have pants on at all.”
He's definitely going to faint. Vash in nothing but his jersey? Between his burning face and other things, he's not sure where the blood in his body is going but it sure ain't his brain.
“Looks good,” he croaks, desperately normal as he stoops to scoop up his textbook. Why does he even have a textbook again? What is he doing today? “Are you um...”
A cloud of snickering saves him from his own stupid mouth, but judging by the looks on their faces, Vash's teammates aren't here to play nice.
“Oof, looks like Solo Saverem had to borrow his bestie's jacket,” one girl stage-whispers with an exaggerated pout. “Guess he's a little lacking in love and peace, huh?”
Really? This is the kindergarten shit they come up with? He takes back any points for creativity – he doesn't even want to see the doodle anymore.
But even if they're obviously just being bitchy, Vash and his stupid bleeding heart still wilts from his sunny twirl, shoulders curling in as he offers them a helpless shrug.
“Well, I mean, friendship is love too, right?”
It sounds weak even to Nick's ears, but then they start to laugh at him again and...
Nah. Fuck that.
“C'mon, Blondie, I don't think they're fallin' for that one,” he drawls, arching an eyebrow at Vash as he steps closer and slides an arm around his waist – and holy shit his waist is as tiny as he'd always imagined it would be, goddamn he's going to be thinking about that later- “Looks like the jig is up, eh?”
“Aaahaha?” Vash blinks at him with a nervous smile and Nick can see the moment he decides to roll with it despite having absolutely no clue what Nick is doing. Well that makes two of them. “I guess it is?”
“What, don't tell me you-”
He doesn't tell her shit, he's not really a words kinda guy. What he does do is tug Vash in even closer, cup his cheek, and watch those pretty eyes blow wide before they flutter shut as Vash goes loose in his arms like they've done this a dozen times before.
Well jokes on everyone, Nick included, he's done this zero times before and hopes that's not immediately apparent when he presses their lips together with the single-minded determination of a guy who is both really gay and really petty.
Thankfully Vash picks up the slack in their little act, whimpering into it like he's been shot or something before pushing even closer, backing them up until Nick's shoulders hit the locker with a little grunt. And then there's a tongue in his mouth, and a hand in his hair, and he's kinda short on air but goddamn if he isn't willing to die right here, and maybe that's the warning bell to go to class but he's doesn't fucking care because Vash is warm against him and they've probably proved their point by now but-
“Saverem! Wolfwood! What the hell do you two think you're doing out here? Get to class before I hose you down!”
They break apart with a gasp, dazed and flushed and rumpled beyond salvaging. They've drawn a small crowd. He sees Meryl pass Milly ten bucks. Mr. de Niro is rubbing his temples and scowling at them. He is achingly aware of his choice of loose boxers and is two-thousand percent sure he's going to embarrass the hell out of himself as soon as Vash peels off his front.
But Vash's eyes are sparkling with mischief and something else that he wants to chase down and sink his teeth into, pulling out whatever thoughts are rattling around up in that pretty little head. He wants to kiss him again. Wants to squirrel him away to ask exactly how hard he was playing along. Wants to-
“And I'll see you both in detention.”
And Vash laughs. Laughs. Full-on giddy as he steps back and straightens the drape of his shirt, then reaches out to flatten Nick's hair too. His lips and cheeks are flushed tempting pink. And then he stoops, shoulders the backpack he'd let slip sometime in the last three minutes, and throws Nick a wink.
“Thanks for the save, bestie.”
Yeah... So worth it.