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Wolfwood glanced over his shoulder when Vash slumped against him. He was far too pale. “Spikey? Are ya okay?”
No answer. Had Vash fainted? It wouldn’t be surprising. Wolfwood had half carried half dragged him out of his tank. Dressed him in his discarded shirt and coat as quickly as he could before hurrying to Angelina.
Shaking his head, Wolfwood focused on the path ahead. They had to put as much distance between them and Razlo as possible. Wolfwood didn’t think he could protect Vash and fight Razlo at the same time. What had the Eye of Michael done to corrupt Livio into such a monster? Giving him a third arm, three Punishers (after that bastard Chapel told him they were rare weapons), and clothing fit for a BDSM themed brothel.
Wolfwood, ever watchful for any sign of Razlo, drove on. Vash remained slumped against him. He’d clearly blacked out from exhaustion. Wolfwood reached behind him to guide one of Vash’s arms around his waist. Give him further support to keep him from falling off of Angelina.
“Stay with me, Spikey,” Wolfwood told him. Even though Vash couldn’t hear or answer him.
A town gradually emerged on the horizon. Wolfwood drove through Main Street without encountering a single person. Where the hell was everyone? Had they all joined the convoy heading towards Octovern? He parked Angelina in front of the inn. Even if no one was there, it was a place where Vash could rest.
Wolfwood steadied Vash as he dismounted the bike. He frowned. “Shit, ya’re freezing.” How could anyone be cold on this godforsaken planet during the day? Only the nights were cold! Wolfwood swung the Punisher over his shoulder, triple checked for Razlo, then lifted Vash off of Angelina. Wolfwood guided him up the steps to the inn.
A young woman with sun darkened skin stood by the counter. She paused in the midst of polishing a glass to stare at them. No doubt a man carrying an enormous cross and an unconscious man was a shocking sight.
“Ya got any rooms available?” Wolfwood asked.
Snorting, she set the glass down. “Whole place is open, Mister. Most of the town fled to Octovern. What happened to your friend?”
“He’s sick. He needs a safe place to rest.”
The woman shrugged. “The Comet’s as safe a place as any you’ll find. There aren’t any Plants left though. Once it’s dark, it’s candles only. I’ll trade you a room for water. Or food.”
“Deal.” Wolfwood had more supplies back with Angelina. He set the Punisher against the counter so he could take a water flask out of his pocket. He didn’t dare let go of Vash. Huh. Before meeting him, Wolfwood would’ve treated the Punisher with more care than a companion. Wouldn’t have held said companion so close either. His priorities had changed. Wolfwood could feel his cheeks heating at the prospect of what that meant. “Here.” He set the flask on the counter. “It’s full.”
She shook the flask and smiled at the sound of sloshing water. “Perfect. Room’s right over here.”
Wolfwood hefted the Punisher back over his shoulder. He tightened his grip on Vash’s waist before hauling him after her. The innkeeper unlocked a door to show a simple yet clean room with two beds. “How come ya didn’t join the caravan?”
She shrugged. “My parents built the Comet. If I left, I’d be abandoning them and their work. There’s no guarantee the caravan is safer than this town anyway. I hope your friend feels better, Mister.” She nodded to them then closed the door behind her.
Wolfwood propped the Punisher against the first bed. He scooped Vash up into his arms. Fuck, he was still so cold. How was he, a human, supposed to warm up a Plant? Would body heat be sufficient? He laid Vash on the bed. Wolfwood zipped his coat up all the way. Next he pulled back the covers. Wolfwood tucked both of them into bed. He wrapped his arms around Vash and drew him up against him. Having Vash’s back pressed against his chest made his pulse quicken. Now that they were somewhere safe, he could focus on holding Vash. How good it felt. And how taking pleasure from this made him feel like such a creep.
“I’m sorry,” Wolfwood whispered into Vash’s hair. “I wanted to protect ya the moment I found ya after July. Instead I was useless. I couldn’t stop Knives’ minions from takin’ ya. I watched that blue-haired freak torture ya for months without liftin’ a finger to stop him. I wanted to save ya so badly, Spikey. Vash. But I couldn’t. I wasn’t strong enough.” All he’d been able to do was watch and wait for Legato to show weakness. Wolfwood sighed as he rested his head against Vash’s. “Not sure how much time ya’ve got to rest. Razlo will hunt us down. I doubt he’d care about catchin’ ya if he hadn’t been ordered to do so.” Could Razlo give them just one night to rest? Vash desperately needed this chance to recover.
Vash shifted in his arms. Wolfwood loosened his grip. Was he holding him too tightly? Hurting him? Heat prickled the back of his neck when Vash turned to face him. Had he heard what Wolfwood said? His eyes were still closed and his breathing deep yet even. No, he couldn’t have. He was still asleep.
Wolfwood hesitated before pulling Vash back into his arms. He tucked his head under his chin. “Ya had to wait five months for me. That won’t happen again,” he said gruffly. He’d give his life to protect Vash. He was the only one strong enough to take on Knives.
Wolfwood didn’t dare fall asleep in case Razlo caught up to them. The hyperalertness that had been beaten into him made him all too conscious of the places his body touched Vash’s. It made his traitorous heart race. Sure, having Vash pressed against him on the bike had felt good, but Wolfwood had tried to brush it off as just being relieved that he’d found him. That Vash was alive. Except that wasn’t right. Vash touching him made his fool heart race. Wolfwood was holding him close in a bed! That was something lovers did. Wolfwood had zero experience with sex and romance. Artificially aged from twelve to an adult man, molded into a perfect weapon by Chapel, learning the Eye of Michael’s propaganda then becoming one of Knives’ blades in his crusade against humanity. There’d been no time for love. No chance to develop so much as a platonic relationship with someone. Wolfwood sometimes saw attractive people - Knives, terrifying as he was, was undeniably a looker - but he didn’t feel desire for the people he’d met. Until he got close to Vash. What did it mean that Wolfwood wanted to hold him close, to protect him? To make up for his betrayal two years ago?
Wolfwood hugged Vash closer. “I’m sorry,” he whispered. His insides churned with guilt as he thought of his assignment to bring Vash to Knives. Doing so had promoted him from Nicholas the Punisher to Preacher Wolfwood. A promotion he hadn’t wanted or deserved.
“I failed ya before.” Wolfwood stroked Vash’s hair. “Not now. Not ever. I’ll give ya all the warmth ya need. Just rest, okay? I’m here for you.”
Wolfwood hoped they’d get the time they needed for Vash to recover. And that Vash wouldn’t hear his racing heart when he awoke.