Chapter Text
Vash sits, squeezed into the tight confines of a bench not meant for three, as the ambulance cuts a corner on the way to one of the worst fucking hospital visits of Wolfwood’s life. And that’s saying something. He’s been shot once, broke his arm twice, and then ruptured his appendix because of course he doesn’t make regular doctor visits. This tops the list on circumstance and abysmal vibe alone.
“So,” Vash says in a woeful attempt to lighten the mood. “Have we learned anything?”
That Knives can throw a damn good punch?
It was supposed to be a calm weekend, too. No overtime shift. Sunday off. Spend the night at his boyfriend’s place. A good time until said boyfriend's asshole brother showed up. It all spiraled downhill from there.
Wolfwood groans and knocks his head back against the wall. What a fucking day. He’s already ruined his new shirt– a button-down Vash had picked up for his new gig. Now, irreparably stained in his own blood. The rest of it drips from his nose, running over teeth and tongue to mottle them red despite the ice pack pressed to his face. Vash reaches to readjust it. Gently it is pressed to the highpoint of his cheek. The relief is only temporary, as Vash turns to his brother with the same worried expression.
Knives scoffs, facing the back door as if Wolfwood offends his delicate sensibilities by sharing in the same air as him. He nurses a split lip– score one, shame he didn’t break a tooth though– and what will be a black eye by tomorrow. Hell, Wolfwood doesn’t even remember what the fight was about. It's basically ritual at this point.
“I’m pressing charges,” Knives says, and Vash groans in exasperation.
“You punched me first.” Wolfwood chokes on dry laughter. The bridge of his nose throbs– the skin split and beneath broken flesh, the bone left shattered. Fuck, Knives really did it this time. “Bastard, I think you’ve finally managed to break my nose.”
“Did I? These family events do all blur together.” Knives merely chuckles, and to Wolfwood’s satisfaction, stops with a wince.
“Do you two have to do this every time?”
“Yes,” they answer in unison, and even Knives manages a cocky grin. “Guess there’s one thing we have in common.”
That one thing, forever being Vash .
The bond of blood, Wolfwood cannot be rid of no matter how he deludes himself. Vash sees the world in his only brother, but Wolfwood, himself, is not an easy thing to shake off either. Much to Knives annoyance, and that is what simmers fury in the man just a seat down from him.
The ambulance pitches over a speed bump, throwing the back cabin to the air. Two hands grab Vash’s thighs to hold him in place. Wolfwood’s on his right, and then Knives, split knuckles and all, holding down the left.
Vash coughs, sheepishly. “Oh, uh, thanks.”
“Yeah, Nai, thanks.” Wolfwood sneers, feeding off the pure loathing from him using that name. His tongue sticks out from behind teeth, and he mouths a childish obscenity to Knives behind Vash’s back.
“Leech,” Knives mutters in retort, and Wolfwood grins. This guy can’t get rid of him. No matter how hard he tries.
And try , Knives does. Time and time again. But Vash is a stubborn fool, and Wolfwood is made of sturdier stuff than any would-be suitor he’s chased off in the past.
Wolfwood breaks one drunken night, where miraculously he’s tolerated Knives presence for a whole hour. An hour, Vash should be proud. Two years he’s spent in suspicion, watching the twins interact. Two years he’s spent bearing the brunt of Knives’ obsession with his younger brother. It only takes a fifth of vodka for Wolfwood to have the balls to finally ask the burning question.
“You’ve fucked Vash, haven’t you?”
It comes out of nowhere. Knives’ eyebrows raise, but he doesn’t deny it. He doesn’t do anything except lay that cold gaze on him. It couldn’t be further from Vash’s despite their similar features, and eventually, he smirks.
“Did he tell you that?” It's like Knives is scientifically designed to grate on Wolfwood’s last nerve. “Come on, Nicholas. I thought you were smart enough to not ask stupid questions.”
Wolfwood throws the first fist of their second fight in the month. It’s short lived, as they’re both still healing from bitter injuries, and the shatter of glass has Vash immediately between them as a physical barrier they are both unwilling to harm.
Wolfwood still doesn’t get his answer, and just a few weeks later, Vash hits him with a bombshell.
“Nico,” he says. “I think you should sleep with Nai.”
“No, I’m not joking. Nico, Nico, please. Hear me out.”
Wolfwood’s already out of the bed, his shirt half pulled over his shoulders. This is a trap. He doesn’t dare look back and give Vash the chance to reel him in. Except, he does. And like always, those damn puppy eyes hook him.
“What?” Wolfwood grumbles. Vash pats the spot on the bed next to him, beckoning him to return. Trap number two. He won’t stand a chance. “No, I’m fine here.”
“You’re being difficult,” Vash huffs. “You and Nai.”
It’s always about Nai.
“Just… tell me one thing, Vash. Tell me you haven’t had sex with him.”
Wolfwood almost regrets asking the moment it leaves his lips. He’s paranoid. Jealous. Of his boyfriend’s fucking brother? It would be a new low except for the doubt that smirk had bred. A doubt Wolfwood has not been able to shake.
Vash looks to him with confusion.
“What? Me and… Nai? ” Vash laughs, until he realizes that Wolfwood is not, and that he is, in fact, being dead serious. “No, we’ve never– that’s what you were worried about?”
Wolfwood frowns, shakes his head, but Vash’s answer doesn’t satisfy him the way he’d hoped. He doesn’t believe him. Wolfwood doesn’t believe Vash, and he hates that. Even if he were telling the truth, it doesn’t change the fact that Wolfwood knows, given the chance, Knives would fuck his brother in a heartbeat.
“Nico,” he repeats again, pawing at the sleeve of his shirt. It catches between nimble fingers. He tugs and naturally, drags Wolfwood back to a siren’s kiss. It works– like it does every fucking time– and he’ll have to remember to hate himself for it later.
Those same fingers cup his cheeks, guiding him closer and closer until they both tumble back to the crumpled duvet. It's soft beneath their shared body weight, warm from Vash’s lingering presence. He laughs again, smiles, and Wolfwood is caught by both tongue, lips, and the twinkle of blue.
Fuck, he’s got a shift in an hour.
“Call out,” Vash suggests with a mischievous glint. The hook of ankles around his own and the trail of hands down south leave little room for interpretation. “They’ll get by one day without you.”
“Spikey, are ya trying to bribe me?”
“Only if it's working.” Vash has learned a little too much from his brother, but manipulation isn’t his strong suit. He’s too earnest.
“Can’t,” he says gruffly. “I’m out of condoms, anyways.”
“Hm,” Vash cocks his head to the side and lets his lips linger just a hair from Wolfwood’s own. It's far more gentle than he deserves and almost sweet when he says, “I wouldn’t mind. You know, without.”
It’s not only God who’ll smite him for the impure thoughts those words bring to mind.
“Don’t say that,” Wolfwood wheezes in what little restraint he can manage, tangled up with Vash in the man’s own bed. The morning sun filters through the blinds, dancing over blonde hair and soft, scarred skin, and Wolfwood thinks–
Fuck, no.
His eyes squeeze shut, and it is with great effort that he peels himself from Vash’s grasp. “Last time I fucked you raw, he found out. Thought I’d lose my head for sure.”
Both of them.
Vash groans with acceptance, flopping back against the sheets. “Fine, but… consider what I said. Please, for me. For us.” Sex with Knives? He can’t be serious, but he is. God, what timeline is he living in? “It would help ease the tension. And, maybe you both would stop complaining about each other. C’mon, how hard can it be? At least, he looks like me.”
Not enough, Wolfwood thinks with the sudden urge to crawl back into bed just to wake up from this nightmare, and “ no, ” is the definitive answer he gives.
Vash sighs, “That’s what he said, too.”
Hold on–
“ You asked Knives first?!”
Vash doesn’t let it go.
It's practically a damned intervention. Wolfwood leans near the opened window, gnawing on the butt of a cigarette burnt down to a stub. It's the second pack today, if that says anything about how things are going. Across the room, Knives sits on the couch, grimacing every time Wolfwood lights a new one.
“I’m serious,” Vash says. “We can’t keep going like this. The neighbors are complaining. They think I’m in a domestic dispute.”
Knives shakes with bitter laughter. “It’s his fault. It’s been less than a year, Vash. We’ve had twenty-five . What’s stopping you from breaking it off already?”
Vash frowns and rubs the bridge of his nose beneath thin framed glasses. “Nai, it's been two , and this is exactly my point . If you tried it, you’d get along better. I’m sure of it. You don’t understand each other the way I do, if you could only see what I–”
“Absolutely not.”
“ Sorry, spikey. Not a chance in hell.” Wolfwood pops another cigarette from the carton. The heel of his lighter flicks, but the chemicals do little for his mood. “See? We’re in agreement.”
“Not what I meant,” Vash rolls his eyes. First at Wolfwood, then at Knives. They’re both on trial today. It grows quiet. The tension thicker than the smoke Knives curses him for. Vash gnaws the tip of his thumb. It's an expression Wolfwood knows. He’s thinking– wracking that brain for the best case scenario. There isn’t one. Vash is a remarkable guy, but he isn’t a miracle worker.
And, he and Knives? They’re too far gone.
“Okay,” Vash settles, fist hitting the palm of his hand. “How about this? What if– what if I was there?”
The cigarette falls from Wolfwood’s mouth. He fumbles with it before it can hit the ground, and in those handful of seconds, Knives answers with a firm, “ Yes. ”
“Wait, hold on.” What the hell is happening? Weren’t they on the same page? All because Vash–? Oh, fuck. “Vash, what the hell do you mean by that? You aren’t suggesting that we–”
One look at Knives’ smug face and then at Vash’s honest one answers the question before he can even say it.
A threesome.
A first for him that’s for fucking sure, and he thought the idea of Knives alone was bad enough. On one hand, it's straight out a porno. Twins? It's not exactly new. On the other, it's his own personal brand of wet dream turned nightmare.
In the midst of it all, Vash looks at him so goddamned expectantly. It makes his mouth dry. His fingers twitch, and he takes a desperate drag just to give himself some space. There’s a shameful tremble to his hand.
Of course, Knives notices that detail. “What are you– nervous ? Will it be your first time?” And, of course, Knives has no plans of bottoming for him. Did he ever expect otherwise?
“No,” Vash answers in his stead, spilling their bedroom secrets even if it's to his own brother. It still hasn’t been much . A couple of times when Wolfwood had been tender and bared. A nerve for Vash to quiet, fucking him slowly, thoroughly, on a strap. There will be nothing kind in the way Knives takes him.
“Don’t worry, Nicholas. I’ll be gentle.”
The reassurance drips in venom. Knives clears the living room in a few steps, and Wolfwood is stunned when he takes his wrist. It bends beneath Knives’ grip, red and strained, until the smoke in hand is plucked away and put out on the messy ashtray. Wolfwood hisses, as if it were put out to his own flesh.
“Bastard,” he curses. “This is exactly what you wanted.”
Knives give him nothing in return and silences what complaints rise from his tongue with his own. He pries Wolfwood’s jaw open, nails dig to bone, and his tongue snakes between his lips, choking him on a kiss. Spit dribbles down his chin when Knives forces his own into his mouth, and if Wolfwood dared to close his eyes, he might even say it tastes like Vash .
Vash, fuck.
An elbow is shoved between them. Knives pulls back with a grunt, but not before leaving him with a lasting gift. Its bit to his lip, the acrid tang of blood coating the roof of his mouth. Wolfwood fights the urge to spit it across Knives’ pristine white shirt.
“Now, now,” Knives tuts, low enough that Vash cannot hear. “Let’s play nice. You wouldn’t want to disappoint my dear baby brother. Right, Nicholas?”