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It feels like half the city turned out to run Vash the Stampede from town.
Bullets strike the ground at Wolfwood’s heels as they run. He curses, yanking Vash by the sleeve into the nearest alley. “Why’d I let you drag me into this?” he shouts as they sprint down the narrow street.
Vash turns his head back and gives a quick smile, the kind that’s genuine enough to make Wolfwood lose his footing. He stumbles, but Vash catches him with a steady grip. “Because you said you'd never leave my side again!”
It’d be a cute moment, the kind of saccharine nostalgia a man could get lost in, if it weren’t for the fact that more gunshots ring out as soon as Vash says it. Indistinct shouting fills the space between bullets. Footsteps pound hard packed dirt.
The welcome party is catching up.
This is its own kind of nostalgia though, Wolfwood thinks as they continue their escape through the tight alleyway, ducking under clotheslines and leaping over tin trash cans and pushing each other out of the path of incoming bullets.
The alley opens into a wider street, where a few shops and a small chapel are nestled against the exterior of the city’s newest tourist attraction— the plant dome that consumed the wreckage of Knives’ Ark and rises over the city like a ripe bubble. It’s the newest, shiniest thing this planet has seen since the Fall, and Vash decided a good way to celebrate Wolfwood’s rebirth would be to see how close they could get to it before someone recognized the most dangerous man on the planet.
To his credit, they did get within spitting distance.
“We’ve got you surrounded! Surrender unless you want to test the definition of Wanted Alive!”
Vash dances out of the way of several bullets with his usual grace and agility, tugging Wolfwood behind him and away from the mob’s less-than-friendly fire. “Aw, come on guys, is this any way to treat a couple of visitors to your beautiful city?”
Vash is laying it on thick; Octovern was hardly a sparkling gem even before the Earth Forces arrived.
“You never should’ve come back after what you did the last time!” someone yells.
“Yeah, just get outta here and leave us alone!” another voice adds.
Vash adopts his most pouty, pleading expression. “You can’t kick us out yet!”
“Why?”
“Because I had big plans for today!” Vash says desperately.
“What plans?” several people shout, and some of their voices are definitely tinged with fear. For all the news girls’ broadcasts, there’s still many people who don’t forgive or forget so easy.
But the mob is asking the right questions. Wolfwood didn’t know they had any plans today, besides maybe drinking to forget the previous stop on their whirlwind “welcome back to being alive” tour: Mesa Probe Church; the site of an apple tree Wolfwood would’ve loved hacking to pieces if it weren’t guaranteed to make Vash sad.
Vash looks around frantically. His gaze lingers on the chapel before turning to Wolfwood, fresh determination in his eyes.
Another shot rings out, bullet pinging off the thick glass of the dome. Vash drops to one knee.
It’s only when Vash takes Wolfwood’s hands in his that he realizes the two things are not related.
“Nicholas D. Wolfwood, of all the men on this planet, you are the only one I’m happy to share my tomorrows with. We’ve been through so much together already, and if you’ll have me, I’d like to spend the remainder of my life by your side.”
Wolfwood raises an eyebrow that he hopes conveys, Is this really a good time?
But the mob seems just as surprised by Vash’s passionate speech, which is at least giving Wolfwood a chance to catch his breath.
“So,” Vash continues, “before the mob resumes trying to kill us, and in case I never get another chance, I have a question to ask you.”
Vash’s hands are sweaty, and there’s something frantic in his expression that makes Wolfwood want to soothe him, tell him that whatever it is, it’ll be alright because they’re together.
He’s so caught up in how impossibly blue Vash’s eyes are that he nearly misses Vash’s question.
“Will you marry me?”
Wolfwood’s thoughts screech to a halt, throwing him off with the same velocity as every one of Vash’s attempts to drive Angelina.
“What?” Wolfwood asks.
“What?” various voices in the mob ask.
Vash’s gaze flicks from Wolfwood to the mob and back again. He squeezes Wolfwood’s hands, looking up at him with pleading eyes.
Oh. A ruse.
Wolfwood’s a former professional when it comes to ruses. He’s got this.
“Oh, Vash!” he says loudly, “I’d love nothing more than to share the rest of my life in wedded bliss with you!”
Vash breaks into a grin. There are damn near sparkles in his eyes.
It’s kinda fun, pretending like this.
Wolfwood turns to the crowd. “You wouldn’t shoot a guy who’s gettin’ married, right? That’d be cruel!”
And the crowd responds:
“Who the hell’s this guy?”
“If he doesn’t have a bounty, he’s fair game, right?”
“If he’s marrying the Humanoid Typhoon, he’s probably dangerous too! Shoot him!”
Well, it was worth a shot. Wolfwood turns back to Vash. “Time to split?”
Vash nods and jumps to his feet. He plants a quick kiss on Wolfwood's cheek, says, “Please don’t die!” and then he’s gone, long legs carrying him away from Wolfwood faster than either Wolfwood or the mob can comprehend.
Wolfwood stands in stunned silence, hand pressed against his flushed cheek like it’ll keep the ghost of Vash’s lips safe from harm.
And then he remembers the mob.
Wolfwood darts in the opposite direction as Vash, hoping to draw some of the mob away. Most of them chase their $$60,000,000,000 bounty, but luckily a fair number have enough wits about them to chase after Wolfwood instead. He yanks on the nearest door hard enough for a few hinges to pop loose and ducks inside.
The interior is dark, but Wolfwood’s enhancements came back from the dead with him. He manages to evade his pursuers while their normal human eyesight adjusts to the difference between high noon and the maze of shadowed corridors. He hears them stumbling and tripping in the distance, the sounds fading as he penetrates deeper into the building.
When he pushes open a door marked Authorized Personnel Only, he is met with a soft blue-green glow that envelops everything it touches.
He’s reached the plant dome. Not the public access, where regular folk ooh and ahh over the absurd feat of Earthen engineering, but the back end, where wires and tubes crisscross the floor like roots and plug into the old, individual plant bulbs that were cannibalized by the monstrosity rising overhead.
He closes the door gently behind him and makes his way closer to the auxiliary bulbs on quiet feet, drawn in by the soft, oddly familiar light.
His presence does not go unnoticed for long. There’s a flash of movement in his periphery, and then a plant has her inquisitive face pressed up against glass, watching him with curious intensity.
Wolfwood ducks behind some big blocky tech… thing, with glowing buttons and wires spilling out of it like spaghetti. He holds a finger to his lips. The plant mirrors his action. He’s not sure if she understands or is just copying him, but before he can worry the door bursts open and the sound of footsteps spills into the room.
Before his death, Wolfwood would’ve considered hiding like this a coward’s choice. He could mow these men down like it’s nothing. In another life, maybe he would have. But avoiding risk isn’t cowardice if there’s someone he needs to stay alive for. Someone waiting for him. Someone he won’t kill for.
The plant taps delicately on the glass, catching the attention of one of Wolfwood’s pursuers. The man skids to a halt and stares up at the plant with a quizzical expression.
Wolfwood’s heart rate picks up, preparing him to fight, to run, to do anything besides leave his fate in the hands of an alien being who doesn’t care one lick about him. He intruded her space, after all, why would—
The plant gives a coy smile and points with one long finger. Away from Wolfwood.
The man takes her at her word and shouts to his compatriots. They depart in the direction the plant indicated.
Wolfwood waits for the footsteps to fade before emerging from his hiding place. When he does, shaking out the stiffness from crouching so long and so tensely, the plant is floating at eye-level, a satisfied smile breaking across her face.
And then more plants arrive, until Wolfwood feels like he’s the one in a bubble, being observed and studied.
“Uh. Hi?”
The plants look at each other, seeming to have a silent conversation. There’s a palpable sense of excitement in the air that makes Wolfwood’s bones feel like they’re vibrating.
One of the plants swims up to the top of her tank. Something large, heavy, and metal creaks, and then she’s peeking over the edge, just the top of her head visible to Wolfwood.
Something drops over the edge of the bulb and flutters toward the floor. Wolfwood catches it.
He is immediately overwhelmed with a collective of voices, swirling words and feelings and images that are too much for his fragile human mind to parse.
It is only after the plant has reappeared in front of him that he realizes what he’s holding.
Not long after his rebirth, Meryl and Milly recounted the moment when humans and plants finally spoke to one another. Feathers falling from the sky, containing decades of memories. Wolfwood had been faintly jealous the whole damn world got to bond over it while he’d been six feet under, but it seems now he’ll get to join the cool kids club after all.
As his mind begins to acclimate, he picks out a few recognizable words from the onslaught.
Red Brother’s not-brother, Red Brother’s partner-friend-love, Friend who protects Red Brother, Friend who loves Red Brother–
Wolfwood blushes. He didn’t realize his feelings were that obvious.
Then the memories hit.
He’s looking down, Octovern sprawling under him. Everything is blurred through liquid and thick glass, but he can make out humans running and noises that are loud enough to pierce the distance. Then, two men stop. The man in red gets on one knee. And just as Wolfwood realizes he’s seeing Vash’s proposal, just as he’s fighting back embarrassment at that moment having been witnessed, the memory morphs. Another proposal, this time a man and a woman, and when the woman nods, the couple kiss and spin in a circle and— the memory shifts again, to another proposal, two women get down on their knees at the same time, and then they’re laughing, hugging and laughing and kissing, then— a wedding, held in front of the little chapel at the foot of the plant dome, and then— a different wedding, with a different couple leaving the chapel hand in hand as loved ones throw confetti—
And that’s enough to pull Wolfwood out of it, back into his own head, his own body.
It takes a few heartbeats to separate his own emotions from the plants’ wonder and curiosity over human mating rituals, and a few more heartbeats to pull away from his own memories of confetti strewn skies.
It doesn’t take a genius to see the conclusion Vash’s sisters have come to.
They don’t know it was a ruse.
He opens his mouth to deny it, to say it wasn't real, it was just a joke, but the thought of lying like that… Something settles inside him; a kind of certainty he hasn’t felt since he decided sitting on that couch was the way he wanted it to end.
There’s only one person he wanted by his side then, and only one person he wants by his side now. There’s only one person he wants by his side tomorrow.
He doesn’t want it to be a lie.
“I want to marry him.”
A flurry of excitement presses against Wolfwood’s consciousness. More flashing images come, like he’s flicking through a stack of photos. Vash in a long white dress, Wolfwood with a veil covering his face, shiny gold rings— no, silver rings— no, gold! slipped onto calloused fingers, two men in suits standing in front of a small chapel, holding red flowers and then white flowers and then pink flowers, and then every color in the rainbow all at once, countless shapes and sizes and scents fighting for dominance.
Wolfwood’s nose burns with an oncoming sneeze.
The overwhelming stream of senses and images finally coalesce into language again, but the plants’ efforts to communicate are no more comprehensible.
Gift! Present!! Blessing!!!
Wolfwood is very confused, but gets a vague sense that the plants are offering their services.
Yes! they answer, but what??
He thinks through the images the plants showed him. There’s one in particular he can’t seem to brush away.
The feather in his hand wiggles and vibrates in his grasp. He nearly drops it, but long tendrils sprout from it, wrapping around his fingers.
Yes! Good choice!!
And then, like Vash in the midst of his transformations, the feather grows, until Wolfwood is left holding an impossible object in his hands.
From us!
For you!!
For him!!!
For love!!!!
The words ring with the echoing chime of wedding bells.
Now that they’ve promised to never leave each other’s side again, they have protocol for when they inevitably do get separated. Wolfwood finds Vash without difficulty, a few iles east from city limits, up on a sloped rock face that’s high enough for a good vantage point.
Vash is sitting where the incline is steepest, jutting out over the desert below. One foot kicks against the rock face. The other is drawn up to his chest, so his chin can rest on it. He perks up when he notices Wolfwood, and the ensuing smile reaches so high Wolfwood can see his eyes crinkle even from a distance.
Vash’s smile always makes Wolfwood’s heart kick against his ribcage, but this time, his heart damn near reaches escape velocity.
His hands are sweating, even though the suns are racing each other to the horizon, bringing the temperature down with them. His heart pounds a frantic rhythm in his chest, despite the leisurely pace he took up in an attempt to get his thoughts in order.
He’s holding the plants’ gift-present-blessing behind his back, so he scrambles up the cliff face one-handed. It means that he’s met with the sight of Vash’s frown as he gives Wolfwood a once over, checking for signs of an arm injury.
“Are you okay? What took you so long? I was starting to think I scared you away.” Vash follows it up with an awkward laugh, but Wolfwood can hear the real concern behind the joke.
Because it wasn’t entirely a ruse to him, either.
“Sorry, your sisters had a lot of opinions about our surprise engagement.”
“My… sisters?” Vash groans. “They saw that?”
“Sure did. And they made us a bouquet of… well, I’m not sure what exactly they are, to be honest.”
Wolfwood holds out the bundle of flowers. Vash’s eyes go wide. He accepts the bouquet with his prosthetic hand and uses his flesh one to gently brush the petals. They’re a deep, vibrant pink at the tips and white at the centers, like they couldn’t quite decide on what they wanted to be.
“Apple blossom Geraniums,” Vash says softly. “How’d they manage to think of the perfect…”
Vash looks up and gives Wolfwood a sad smile. “Geraniums were Rem's favorite. And apple blossom for…”
He doesn't say it, but he doesn't need to.
“Vash…”
Vash forces a laugh and rubs at the back of his head in a show of embarrassment. “Anyway, sorry for springing that on you earlier! I couldn’t think of how to distract them. No need to talk about it or even think about it, it was just a—”
“Vash.”
“Yeah?”
Wolfwood had a whole speech planned. It was going to be very romantic. He was going to bare his soul. But looking into Vash’s eyes, the glow of the setting suns behind him, all his pretty words are lost like feathers in the breeze. All he’s left with is the question at the core of it.
“Will you marry me?”
Vash seems to feel every human emotion at once. And even though Vash’s plant powers have diminished, Wolfwood can feel just how strongly his question has affected him. The air feels electric. Or maybe like the moment before a typhoon rolls into town, when the world is holding its breath, waiting.
Wolfwood holds his breath. He waits.
It doesn’t take long.
Vash throws himself at Wolfwood. He catches him, holds the most dangerous man on the planet in his arms, feels him breathing, feels his heart beating, feels him say, “yes.”
“I wish we could. Get married for real, I mean,” Vash says sadly, a few minutes later, when the bliss has mellowed. “But who’d officiate a ceremony for a wanted man?”
“Luckily, you’ve got an ordained minister right here.”
“Don’t we need a witness?”
Wolfwood nudges the bouquet. “What do you think these are? Your sisters are always watching and listening, aren’t they?”
Vash smiles, the kind that’s soft enough to kill. But there’s still a worried crease in his forehead that Wolfwood would do anything to smooth. Vash opens his mouth, but Wolfwood already knows what his next retort will be.
“We don’t need all that fancy stuff anyway, haven’t you ever heard of self-uniting marriages? It’s an obscure law, left over from the early days after the fall when access to priests was rare. All you need is a promise of commitment. And some forms,” he adds as an afterthought.
Hope lights up Vash’s face. “Can we do it here, then? Right now?”
Wolfwood nods. “All we need to do is say the words with the intention of bein’ married at the end of them.”
Vash gently rests the bouquet on a rock and takes Wolfwood’s hands into his own. He squeezes Wolfwood’s hands and gives him an expectant look. Wolfwood clears his throat.
“Vash, do you promise to be by my side during the best and worst days, whether we be rich or poor, through sickness and health, to love me today and all our tomorrows, until death parts us and even after?”
They’re sentiments they’ve already expressed, promises they’ve already made, but knowing that this time, it’s permanent, somehow carries more weight.
Vash is already crying when he says, “I do.” He lets go of Wolfwood’s hands just long enough to wipe his face, then Wolfwood’s, because he started crying at some point too, and then takes Wolfwood’s hands again.
“Nicholas D. Wolfwood, do you promise to be by my side during the best and worst days, whether we be rich or poor, through sickness and health, to love me today and all our tomorrows, until death parts us and even after?”
“I do.”
And so, by the power of love and peace, they join their lips together and seal it with a kiss.
The next morning, Octovern’s city hall becomes the site of a shoot-out, as the Humanoid Typhoon and his male companion are caught attempting to file paperwork for a marriage certificate.
They’re eventually chased out of town, but witnesses report seeing the two outlaws running hand in hand, sunlight gleaming off golden wedding rings.