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Feverish.
Every time his scuffed boots touch the stage, with Meryl and Milly at his back, a swarming sea of upraised hands and screaming faces in front of him, chanting the band's name—Vash feels feverish.
Skin smattered with goosebumps, his chest heaving to breathe after a long-winded note, bathed in sweat that he's dripping in it-well. Maybe that part is gross, even though he knows people would pay to have his shirt thrown at them.
But this is what he lives for; it's why he takes the stage and gives it everything he's got, until he's nothing but blood, sweat, and tears.
It's all to see his fans scream with glee. To feel alive and happy to be in the moment like he does.
Tonight is different, though. For one—it is the final spot in their debut tour, so he's giving his all times ten. After a quick rise in listeners following the boom of one of their first songs in their very first album (Meryl has been struggling to keep Vash humbled from that point alone), the people demanded more, and Vash loved to indulge them. So they produced another album and decided to strike while the iron was hot—they were to tour the country and ride the wave of their increasing popularity.
…and also because he spotted what could quite possibly be the coolest guy he's ever seen standing to the side of the crowd, eyes scouring the swimming crowd, squinting to spot any trouble, and occasionally speaking into his headset. The venue's security detail then. He's the picture of professionality and "I take my job very seriously—don't fuck with me" with a sprinkling of personality in the piercings lining his ears and the tattoos peeking above his shirt collar. Vash suddenly feels that he shouldn't be the center of attention in the room, that he would consider himself standing in the presence of a celebrity even when he is the person everyone came to see tonight.
He's dying to get to know the man.
It's too cute to watch the stoicism fall apart, to see the man's lips quirk to the side and bob his head to the tune of their songs. A fan, then? Vash is crossing his fingers and toes that he is.
Vash cannot admit to anyone that he's putting a bit more oomph, some more gusto into his performance tonight just so the hot venue worker standing guard can have a good time too, to maybe take his eyes off the crowd and look to him while he performs.
At one point, when he looked back to check in with the girls, Meryl raised a brow at him, and Milly was very enthusiastically giving two thumbs up, feeding off of Vash's energy to become even more of a beaming ray of sunshine.
"Encore! Encore!"
Vash grins. God that never gets old.
"Alllll right! Now I know what you're all waiting for, and it's been a long wait, hasn't it?" He can hear the crowd's murmurs, feels their apprehension. "Here's one more for all the day ones out there."
A strum of Meryl's guitar and a beat of Milly's drums is all it takes for the cheers and screams to begin anew.
The final song on the final day of their first tour. It's something Vash knows he and the girls will never forget, filing away this special moment as his lips touch the mic, his eyes mapping all the faces shouting his own lyrics back at him, even the one face he could hardly tear his eyes from all night.
His fingers grip the mic stand tightly. For the first time that night, he finally managed to snag eye contact with the man. The streaming lights illuminate him enough for Vash to see his dazzling smile, his lips forming the words of his song. His fingers and hands move in strumming motions, dancing along his own imaginary instrument, Vash realizing the fidgeting of his fingers mirrors that of Meryl's as she plays the chords on her own guitar.
Multiple people several feet in front of the man mistake Vash's standstill gaze in their vicinity as the possibility that he's looking at them; the group erupts, bouncing like freshly popped kernels of popcorn. The man still smiles that awfully distracting thing, winking at Vash.
Milly's signature, fast-timed beats of her drum signal to Vash that this is it. The final moments. Vash holds the last note, spinning with the mic stand, and thrusting it into the air.
It's an out-of-body experience from there, him and the girls bowing as one to the raucous applause of their fans, walking off to the side of the stage to be herded by the venue personnel to the back, to where their tour bus waits to whisk them away…back home.
He's not ready for this to end. He wants more. The night doesn't have to end here.
"Milly, Meryl, how about we go to that bar we saw a couple of streets over to celebrate?"
"The Drunk Birdie? You sure? Wouldn't we get recognized?" Meryl points at their makeup and stylized hair.
"We can change and take off all our makeup! I think we can look like regular folk, seeing as we are." Milly offers. "This tour doesn't change who we are!"
"Exactly! We are just regular folk who somehow got recognized for their kickass instrumental skills and-" Vash spots the man joining the barricade to guard them from their rowdiest of fans. Now there's an idea. "One second!" he shouts before stepping close to the man.
His tap to his shoulder barely jolts him, and up close, Vash thinks he may be prettier than cooler, if that was even possible. "The Drunk Birdie. Meet me there in an hour." He doesn't give him a chance to respond, turning back to meet up with the girls, the three of them running out to ready themselves in their bus.
"I knew something was up with you tonight!" Milly shouts, nudging Meryl. "I kept seeing him glance to that side of the room!"
"Uh-huuuh." Meryl smirks at him, knowing exactly what he goes for.
"Strike me down, I just think he looked interesting!"
He's having the time of his life, so if the man accepts and meets up with him? Nice. Good. If not, and he's stood up, maybe he can get over it and stick to the initial plan of having drinks with the girls to celebrate.
But Vash would rather be surprised than disappointed right now.
He tries—he really does—not to let the disappointment weigh his bones down after two hours tick by and there's still no sign of that black hair. Vash and the girls are on their third round of drinks, cocktails sloshing around in the thin glass as they meld into the crowd on the dance floor. They're all feeling the effects of it, Meryl the worst between them, hanging off Milly's arm as she takes turns twirling them both. Their disguises, albeit simple and clean sans all the makeup they usually wear for their stage performances, allow them to pass by as three best friends looking for a good night on the town. No one has run up on them asking for pictures or autographs, so Vash will take that as a win.
He takes one last cursory glance around the room before he decides to give up. It's fine. Fuck it! He's been having so much fun with the girls, celebrating a tour well done, so much more fun than he surely would have had with-
His eyes stop on the entrance, the bouncer bending to pat down the person before popping back up and giving the signal he's good to enter. And in he comes, cigarette spat out and stamped into the ground, sliding through the crowds with an ease Vash wishes he had, even though he's absolutely tipsy at this point and would fall on his ass if he walked faster than a stumble.
"That th' guy?" Meryl shouts into his ear, loud enough for him to hear over the din of a song he's never heard before. He can only nod, biting his lip. All that hoping and wishing he's done in the past two hours, and now he's weaseling out.
A shove at his shoulders pulls him from his worries. "Then go get 'em tiger. Have fun. We expect to see you back at the bus when the bar closes?"
Vash winks. "Course. You know I don't do one-night stands. Okay~ text you later bye!" He makes his escape before they prod him with any more questions.
His eyes had followed the man to the bar, sat at one of the stools and leaning over the counter to find the bartender. Tipsy or not, Vash is finding it difficult to walk through the crowd, people bumping into him from all sides and shooting him looks for having the audacity to be in the way. He tries to move with them, finding that dancing his way out is faster than just walking. Or stumbling.
Sidling up to him, Vash bends down to his eye level, grinning so hard he feels his cheeks creasing his eyes shut. "Didn't think you'd show."
The man turns, confusion then realization playing across his face. "And miss the chance of meeting the lead singer of a band you like? I'd be pretty stupid in the head if I didn't come. But sorry I'm late. Had to close the venue and found some guy hiding in the upstairs bathroom."
Vash all but falls into the open stool next to him, only zoning in on one fact. "You…like us?"
"You were looking at me for the entire concert. Did I not show that? My brother was the one to introduce me, so I've been following y'all since your first EP." He waves his hand over his face. "Ya look way different without your makeup. Y'all have some killer eyeshadow."
"Thank you! We wanted to catch people's attention, seeing as we are still kinda new. So, good to see it's working." Vash spots the bartender coming their way and flags them down. "What can I get for you? Beer, cocktail…shots? On me."
"Tryin' to get me drunk?"
"More like trying to give you a good time. I asked you to come out here, so least I can do is have the drinks be on me."
The man twists his mouth in thought. "How do you feel about tequila shots?"
Vash is in deep. Way too deep.
His eyes are crossing from trying to keep the man in view. After the fourth round of shots, they slumped forward, turning their heads to the side to keep the conversation going. A slew of empty shot glasses sits between them, Vash seeing the man's eyes through one, his nose in another, and his mouth in another. It's making him feel like Picasso painting a mental picture of the man to keep to himself for when he leaves this town.
Hmmm no. That thought is too sad to have when he's this drunk, and he doesn't want to leave this man with the impression that he's a sad drunk. He is a happy, silly, sometimes! sad drunk. He can be all of the above.
"May-ma-" why are words so confusing? He rolls his tongue around and tries again. "Maybe we had t' much."
"I think we had enough." The man slurs, blinking slowly. He grumbles about something, pushing the shot glasses out of their way so that Vash can see him clearly. The Picasso rendition he had in his mind seconds ago falls flat compared to how the man looks now, neon lights smattering his features in prismatic colors. "You keep asking all these questions about me and I'm giving you answers, but I'm not learning much about you. Two-way street, Blondie—so, got any siblings? I'm not really getting only child energy from you."
"I have a twin. He doesn't like any attention, so I'm pretty sure you can't find him anywhere on the internet—probably could survive off the grid—but he does all the behind-the-scenes crap. Finances, logistics, all those fancy words that keep us floating. I appreciate him, I really do, but he's been a real ass this entire tour." Vash finds the man's foot beneath the bar and interlocks it with his own. "So I'm really appreciating all these good drinks, and even better company."
"Yanno what? I know the perfect remedy for getting your brother off your back."
"And what's that?"
Instead of an answer, the man throws his head back and…howls? Shouts?
Vash glances around, a few people raising a brow at him. Seems only those closest to them were able to hear his shout over the pounding bass of a pop song.
"Try it!" the man inclines his head at him. "Too late for you to think I'm weird! We've exchanged family lore and secrets never known to man. You're locked in with me."
Vash is slightly flattered, but mildly confused. "What was that though?"
"A drunken holler!" he shouts back at him. "C'mon, try it! Release your inhibitions. I promise you'll feel tons lighter after." He sees Vash look around. "You're a performer, and you're getting stage fright over this? What are you, chicken?"
Oh, Vash sees a challenge and he's never one to back down from one. If his friends were jumping off a cliff, he's also jumping.
He closes his eyes, and hollers until his throat feels dry. He's not worried in the slightest about losing his voice from something like this, since they are officially done with tour.
"Ay? Was I right? You feeling like the world is off your back?" The man's leaning on his hand, looking at Vash as if he just performed another song only for him.
"Yeah. I think I sound better than you, though. You sounded like a coyote who just found its next meal."
Vash's vision swims with the man's ruddy cheeks upturned from laughter, giggling at what Vash somehow coherently said. The stool tilts- or is that him? Well, the whole world is tilting, pulling Wolfwood's face closer. He sees those big round, so nice to look at doe eyes blink with stunned uncertainty and then-
Vash's mouth is tasting leather. He must be wearing a leather jacket.
The man is frozen beneath him, and Vash's brain is slow to realize that he might just Irish goodbye this whole encounter and go back to the tour bus, when bubbly, cute snorts grace his ears.
"Alright, that's enough for us. Need some help finding Milly and Meryl?" Vash is about to ask how he knows the names of the girls when he remembers that he's a fan of them. Right. He's definitely not in his right mind.
"I can just text them!" Vash bolts up, fishing his phone from his pocket and tapping at the screen. It remains black. That's fine, maybe his fingers are wet from the liquor-stained counter. He holds the power button. An empty battery symbol blinks at him.
He whirls to the club floor, belatedly realizing it's empty. He's been engrossed in finding out as much as possible about the coolest man he's ever met that he didn't see the time, nor the people leaving. Including Milly and Meryl, it seems. Oh, no no he's got a dead phone, absent friends, he doesn't know where the tour bus moved to for the night-
The man puts a hand on his shoulder, turning Vash to face him. "Hey, breathe. Maybe it's good for you to disconnect for a night. Especially since you just told me that your brother's been hard on you."
Vash feels his breathing slow. "You're not telling me all this just for you to lead me away and kill me?"
"Nooo, I'm trying to tell a good person that he deserves a break, however brief it is. Here, my place isn't far. We can go there, charge your phone, and then you can call the girls to come and get you."
If the bar is closing, that must mean it's past 2am at this point, and he knows just how much Meryl loves her sleep. And no way is he about to phone Knives. He's not ready for a fifteen-minute-long lecture. "Actually, if it's not too much, can I crash on your couch?"
"I'd be so honored to house Vash the Stampede for the night. I can let you borrow some clothes for the night, too."
On top of the man being the coolest guy ever, he's also the smartest and sweetest. "Thank my lucky stars for you. I think they actually aligned for me for once. Are you secretly my guardian angel?" Vash closes out the tab, throwing an arm over the man's shoulder, allowing him to lead him out of the bar and into the brisk air.
The man huffs a laugh. "You're so cute." Funny. Vash should be calling him that. And other things. Handsome, pretty, so nice to look at- "-but I'll save you some time and say no amount of flirting is gonna get you in my pants."
"That's not what I'm goin forr- I barely know you!" he hiccups. "I'm trying to get into a bed. Or couch. Not picky. But I'm soo sleepy!"
Vash may have to thank all the stars in the universe for the luck that was given to two drunk-off-their-asses men finding their way to the guy's apartment.
Shoulder to shoulder, they barely fit through the hallway, ping ponging back and forth between the walls as they try to find the couch. They kicked off their shoes somewhere behind them, and now, between their slippery socked feet and dizzying vertigo, they barely make it to the couch.
Tumbling down into it, their giggling muffled into each other's cheeks, Vash can say that this is the most fun he's had in a night since the tour started. Usually, following the encore, Vash, Milly, and Meryl would buy a pack of beers and have some takeout in their bus before leaving for the next city, on a tight schedule made by Knives.
And hell would be raised on earth if they even deviated the slightest inch from his tour schedule for them. Always wanting them to arrive in the next city at least a day and a half ahead.
So with the man's light, hiccuping giggles in his neck, it's a nice distraction from the stress of it all. His laughter is pure medicine; it could probably save Vash from the creeping burnout.
"This is a really nice couch," Vash bounces slightly in the cushions.
"Thanks, it's thrifted. Think I nabbed it from an estate sale, so if you smell some old lady perfume, that's the reason why." One of them somehow turned the light in the hallway on in their way in, so Vash is hazily swimming in the edged dark pools of the man's eyes as he smiles down at him. Every smile he's earned from him creases the edges of his eyes, and Vash finds it intoxicatingly pretty how it accentuates his charm.
"You h've nice eyes," he lets slip out. He'd be more embarrassed if he weren't wasted and so comfortable and cozy.
"Hm? Just nice? 'M pretty sure the older ladies at the grocery store said some better things about them."
"Mm buggy eyes... if you were a bug, I'd keep you nice and safe in a jar and feed you so many leaves-"
"No. Nope. That's actually way worse than just 'nice.'"
"'M drunk have mercyy!" Vash giggles as the man places kisses all over his face. "What happened to compliments not getting into your pants?"
"They won't, but that doesn't mean I don't like hearing them," he says, stifled into his cheek. From here, Vash can count all his eyelashes. Unfair for a man to be this pretty.
"Mm, ok. How about sweet, dazzling, sugary..." Vash strays off, the warmth of the man's body lulling his brain.
"I think all that liquor is giving you the munchies. You're sounding hungry."
Through half-lidded eyes, Vash parts the man's bangs, smoothing over his cheek. "Hungry f' you?"
Another laugh earned, the sound winding through his ribs and tightly around his heart.
"Ok. You pass." He's silent for a moment, tracing a finger over the slope of Vash's nose. "Can I kiss you?"
His heart soars, free from its earlier bindings. "Only if you wan'" Vash whispers, watching how his breath flutters the man's eyelashes.
He leans in, and Vash feels warmer now, so warm all over, like he's being tucked into bed, with a heavy blanket laid over him; so he wraps his arm tighter around Wolfwood, presses into the kiss and-
Wakes up. Alone. In a room he's never seen before.
Hm. Well, that's not-
He flies up and looks around. The clock reads 10am. Shit, the girls must be worried. He doesn't even wanna know how many calls he's missed from Knives-oh fuck. Where's his phone?
Vash forces himself to swallow down some air, the panic that's slowly seizing him doing absolutely nothing for the nausea roiling in his stomach. He takes stock of the room. The last thing he remembers was that couch, but he's in a bed now. Strange.
The bed seems to be able to fit two people, but he's evidently the only one to have ruffled the sheets overnight.
He's slow to wake because—oof, yeah, that's a headache. A hangover, then. He squints around and sees the lamp was left on, a note on the nightstand.
You passed out on the couch last night, so I carried you to my bed since that'd be comfier than the couch. Here's some water and ibuprofen. Your phone's charging right next to this note.
Also, I changed your shirt since you also spilled some vodka on it. I'm in the living room if you need anything.
P.S. for peace of mind, we didn't do anything.
All at once, he settles into himself. Again, he feels the safety and security from just being around the guy last night, knowing that his gut feeling was proven right. He picked the best guy to take him back to his place.
He's quick to down some water and the meds, sending a quick message off to the girls and Knives that he was ok and would see them later; no need for a search party.
Da Band (Meryl)🔥🙌: Vash where'd you go?? Saw you with that guy, but you don't usually sleep over at anyone's place.
Da Band (Milly)🔥🙌: Be safe!
Da Band (Vash)🔥🙌: I'm alright. Phone died, and he offered to charge it at his place but I ended up passing out on his couch :[ Just got a bit of a hangover. I'll be back soon! Promise 🤞🤞
Knives' curt, demanding response immediately appears on his screen just barely a second after he messaged him. He rolls his eyes and throws his phone on the nightstand, but in his haze, misses it entirely and hits the wall.
He gasps. The man takes such good care of him, and here he is nearly denting his wall. A knock at the door comes not only ten seconds later, and Vash is searching the floor for his boots in case he needs to make a run for it. "Come in!"
A head peeks around the corner. "Heard a bang, just came in to check if you didn't die."
"All good here!" They both wince at his shout, no doubt sharing the pang it induced. "Sorry, my phone just fell. But how'd you do all of this drunk?" he gestures at himself and the nightstand. "Not that I'm complaining, I mean, I'm eternally grateful."
"Honestly, you were worse for wear than I was, and the distance from the couch to my bed isn't the biggest, so I thought I could for sure handle carrying you without dropping us both on our ass."
"Thanks for not dropping me. I'm pretty sure that only happened when I was a baby, if you couldn't tell. But thank you so much…?-" He slams his hands to his face, digging the palms into his eyes until he sees stars. "God, I'm so sorry! We talked all of last night, I've slept in your bed, I'm wearing your clothes...-" God, he still can't get over that. That's so sweet. "-and I still never asked for your name." Swinging his arms away, he looks back at the man, who's trying terribly to quell his laughter with a bite to his lips.
"You can take my car next if you want." The charming man finally looses a laugh when Vash slumps over his lap, melting from the embarrassment of it all. Rem would have him by the ear for his absence in manners.
"Oi, chill! You gotta understand you're the funniest guy to ever take up my bed. And trust me, that's saying something, since I hardly ever...never bring people home after a night out. It's not something I do." He leans out, offering his hand. "Name's Wolfwood. At your service. Or well, I've been at your service." He gestures to the bedside where Vash's empty glass and charged phone sit. "Would you like to know my rates, or is it too late?"
He laughs, shaking his head. "Vash-ah, but you know that." He shakes Wolfwood's hand, settling it on the bed between them. Wolfwood shifts it so he cups the top of his hand, smoothing over his scars.
"Are you feeling alright?"
"Feeling a bit dizzy, but that'll go away in a bit. Thank you for the meds and water. Thank you for everything."
They sit there on his bed for some time, sitting comfortably in the silence, blackout curtains doing wonders in keeping the worst of the hangover at bay. Vash runs his fingers over Wolfwood's hand, toying with his black threaded bracelet. Neither wants to leave this room, knowing that once a foot is out the door, everything will come to an end.
Vash brings up their conjoined hands to press a kiss to Wolfwood's inner wrist. "I do wanna say sorry for falling asleep on you right when we kissed. I swear I wanted it, I didn't do that to avoid kissing you for too long or for anything that came after-"
"You don't have to apologize, seriously. You did a concert, then we got wasted. I don't blame you for falling asleep once you got to lie down."
Vash smiles, kissing Wolfwood's knuckles next. "You're sweet. Have I told you that already?"
"Spikes, I think I'm counting on the second hand at this point."
"Sounds about right." Vash inches closer, crumpling some of the sheets together until his knees touch Wolfwood's. "Can we have a do-over?"
Wolfwood nods, so he leans in, pressing their lips together. It's soft, a gentle good morning greeting. He hopes Wolfwood can taste his gratitude for him in it.
Parting, Vash's head clears slightly, and he suddenly has a fleeting thought, one that can be called nonsensical and something that Knives would yell at him to get his head out of the clouds for.
"Say, would you like to join the band?"
Wolfwood flings back, levelling Vash with a look. "Don't play with a man's heart like that."
Vash throws himself after Wolfwood, invading his space again. "No, I'm serious! I saw you air guitaring it at the venue, and I could tell you actually know how to play. And you fit our style to a T."
"Blondie, you've known me for one night. How can you invite a stranger to join your band?"
"A stranger who let me sleep in their bed and left me water and charged my phone. I can tell you're a good guy, and I'd like to get to know you more. Past your superb air guitar skills." Wolfwood looks on disbelievingly, perhaps thinking that if he fell off the bed right now, he'd wake up from a dream. "Listen, we plan on taking time off to make a new album. I'd like for you to be the new addition. It might be what we've been missing! You cannot imagine the amount of scrapped song ideas we have." Wolfwood still has that funny look on his face, so he moves on. "I can call Milly and Meryl and ask them too. I can probably take you to meet them, too, but no worries about Knives. I can handle-"
Wolfwood jumps out of bed, holding his hands up. "Vash, I'm not saying no, but let's pump the brakes. Let me make you breakfast before we make any final decisions."
Yeah. Wolfwood will definitely be a good fit for their band. The girls are going to love him, especially with how well Wolfwood manages to keep him in check. "I'd love that."