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While it’s admittedly not so often one discovers the companion they’ve been traveling with, and otherwise, been dragged into one problem after the other with, turns out to be of another species, no one could blame the incongruous reporter duo from acting a little more wary of Vash - especially the alcoholic Uncle Downer - after such a monumental discovery. Wolfwood, personally, couldn’t care less what Vash is, so after the whole ship ordeal, he decides to pay a visit to a December bar with his cross slung over his shoulder and whatever double dollars he has left to his name.
He asks for the strongest drink they serve before he’s even offloaded his cross.
The orphanage is fine, completely untouched, as is the rest of the city. Vash had helped to make sure of that, even when Wolfwood yielded to his plea to save everyone on the ship too. It was a stupid decision on his part, but he had caved from the urgency of the situation and a bewitching pair of pleading, blue eyes.
He’s only one shot down when an upbeat call of his name chimes from around the swinging doors of the diner.
“What are you doing in a place like this?” Vash asks as he comes in and grabs a seat next to Wolfwood at the bar. “I figured you would want to visit your home.” He offers a small, sincere smile despite the way his dark eyebrows pinch together in a show of concern.
He really is far too caring, especially for the likes of Wolfwood.
After a stretch of silence, the burn of the alcohol on his throat is gone, so Wolfwood signals for another shot. “No one there would recognize me,” he states and swipes the drink as soon as he can. He downs it in a quick gulp and slams the empty glass back on the table.
Another pause and then Vash isn’t smiling anymore. He blinks his endearing, blue eyes at Wolfwood like he’s waiting for Wolfwood to elaborate. “But, it’s important to you, isn’t it? Otherwise, you wouldn’t have been so hellbent on saving it, even at the expense of everyone else.”
Wolfwood’s jaw begins to ache from unknowingly grinding his teeth. He isn’t too fond of being read like an open book so easily and he sure as hell didn’t come here to be interrogated. From an average person’s perspective of the last few hours, shouldn’t Wolfwood be the one asking the questions?
Only, he doesn’t have anything to ask because there isn’t anything he needs answered.
Glancing at Vash from behind the tint of his sunglasses, Wolfwood decides if Vash is going to follow him into a grimy bar like a little puppy at his heels, he might as well put him up for the night as well. And it’s a reasonable excuse to escape from any prying eyes and open ears from any curious patrons.
Standing, Wolfwood digs in his pocket and slaps an indeterminate amount of crumpled up double dollars onto the counter and grabs Vash by the hood of his long, red jacket with one hand and his cross with the other. He jerks Vash from his seat which forces an indignant yelp from his throat, and balances his cross on his back. “We’re taking a room,” he drawls without even sparing a glance to the barkeeper over his shoulder and trudges his way to the stairs leading to the second floor.
While dragging him close behind, Vash whimpers pathetically as he stumbles to keep up with Wolfwood’s leisurely pace. By the time he rights himself, Wolfwood tosses Vash into the first available room he comes across and steps in behind him, shutting the door and securing it from most unwarranted intrusions with the hefty weight of his cross leaned against it.
Now that he has Vash alone, Wolfwood contemplates how to proceed since he doesn’t want to touch on the topic of the orphanage or the whole Vash-is-actually-a-plant thing anymore. The urge to busy his hands with the familiar motions of lighting a cigarette prickles at the nerves of his fingers, but instead of lighting one up he weakly attempts to ignore it by squeezing them in tight fists.
It doesn’t really help, but just as he’s about to cave and reach for his pack of smokes, Vash’s soft, reassuring voice graces him with a call of his name.
“Wolfwood,” he says again, and Wolfwood by reflex drags his gaze from the dusty floor up to the more vibrant blue of Vash’s eyes. They’re, regrettably, tinted by the translucent orange of his glasses, but Wolfwood decides that’s not such a bad thing when every time he looks at them he gets this odd feeling in his chest he can’t quite figure out. “Thank you.”
The smile he gives Wolfwood is small, but the crinkle of his eyes and tilt of his head that has his spikey, blonde hair over his forehead pierces straight through Wolfwood’s fluttering heart. His throat burns on the next breath of dry air he takes and the urge to soothe the ache with a drag of smokey nicotine increases tenfold.
With a quick shake of his head, Wolfwood attempts to disperse those nagging sensations. “You already thanked me for that, Needle-Noggin,” he reminds him, thinking back to Vash’s plea to allow him to save everyone. And Wolfwood, against his better judgment, had agreed to it, because there was something about Vash that had shaken up his entire, miserable upbringing during the ordeal on the ship, even if he couldn’t quite put his finger on it just yet.
As he shuffles around on his feet, trying to straighten out his jumbled thoughts, Vash approaches him with a few cautious steps. “But I…” he pauses, sucks in a long, deep breath, and holds it for a beat, “I don't think I can thank you enough for…”
So if it isn’t about that, then Wolfwood figures he’s referring to the events of the plant room after they successfully stopped the ship. Out of the corner of his eye, he catches Vash point his gaze towards the floor and pull his bottom lip between his teeth. Wolfwood still believes there isn’t anything to thank him for, but considering how a certain reporter snatched up his newbie colleague and dragged her away despite her frantic protests, Vash is likely in more of a vulnerable state than Wolfwood had previously assumed and is seeking comfort in someone who can accept him for who he is.
When the reporters ran off, that had left him and Vash together in the plant room with Wolfwood bearing witness to Vash reaching out for them, only to stop himself from pursuing them. Wolfwood had noticed the deep sadness in his eyes, even through the visible markings, before he turned back to the plant to sigh a wobbly admission of gratitude with a final touch to the glass. Then he had left as well, shuffling past Wolfwood with his head hanging low so his long bangs hid his face from Wolfwood’s view.
There was no reason for Wolfwood to stick around either, which is when he marched over to the city for a drink and somehow ended up in a dingy room with the Humanoid Typhoon looking as if he’s going to cry on him at any moment.
Since Wolfwood hadn’t said anything about Vash’s identity as a plant, Vash probably trusts him enough to open up to him, if Wolfwood had to guess. He wouldn’t have anything to say about it in the first place, because unlike the reporters, Wolfwood had already known.
But he couldn’t exactly drop that tid-bit of information without the inevitable fallout that would likely come with it, because how else would Wolfwood know about it other than his affiliation with Vash’s own equally-a-plant twin brother?
“Wolfwood, I…” Vash fidgets around with his fingers as he tries to figure out what to say, rubbing his knuckles together and staring absently at them as he does so. Then he decides to occupy his nervous hands by reaching out for Wolfwood and grabbing onto the lapels of his suit jacket. Wolfwood is stunned as Vash closes his eyes and steps closer, inserting himself into Wolfwood’s personal space to push their lips together in a clumsy kiss that has Wolfwood teetering back. With nothing to catch himself on under the slight weight of Vash leaning into him, Wolfwood is left with no other choice than to hold onto Vash with one arm around the curve of Vash’s lower back.
As he holds him, they’re pressed even closer together, but Wolfwood is slow to catch up with Vash’s bold advances. With his prolonged lack of response, Vash soon pulls away and looks up at Wolfwood with uncertainty written all over his face.
Those big, blue eyes are glassy and his eyebrows are turned up, pinched close together as a realization settles over his soft features. Then he’s pushing himself out of Wolfwood’s grasp, stepping further away from him, and crossing his arms over his chest to hide himself as best as he can without making a run for it.
The show of insecurity draws Wolfwood’s gaze to the cracks in Vash’s prosthetic arm. The ones he got while helping Wolfwood redirect the trajectory of the ion cannon.
Clearing his dry throat, and hopefully tamping down any concerns of Vash bolting from him, Wolfwood attempts to divert the awkward atmosphere by nodding to Vash’s arm, despite Vash still avoiding his gaze. “So, uh–” he waves at Vash’s crossed arms, which is when Vash finally looks at him again, “How is it? Your arm, is it - is it gonna be okay, or…?”
Instead of making himself look stupid with his useless gestures, Wolfwood finally succumbs to his urges and grabs for his pack of cigarettes to shake out a pitifully smashed one into his hand and sticks it between his dry lips. The flick of his lighter echoes in the deafening silence as he lights it and burns half the stick on a single, deep pull of the filter.
“Oh - I uh, yeah,” Vash’s short laugh is hollow and full of obvious anxiety as he turns his prosthetic around to examine it. “I’ll figure it out.” He shrugs it off like it’s nothing, but that’s a whole arm he’s bargaining with.
Then again, Vash is likely much more familiar with the technology, so Wolfwood can hardly comment on it more than obligatory concern.
Wolfwood taps his heel on the floor as he breathes out a long puff of smoke that billows above them and fills the room with the acrid smell. There’s no point in drawing this out any longer, so Wolfwood bites the figurative bullet and lays it all out on the table. “You’re a plant," he states more than asks, because he already knows it, but Vash isn’t aware of that just yet, so he plays the cards as best as he can and hopes Vash doesn’t sniff out the hidden truth.
It's visible when Vash flinches at the inquiry, huddling up on himself again and grinning his fake smile despite the lingering sadness in his eyes. “Do you hate me now, too?”
Wolfwood doesn't answer, because it’s a stupid question.
Vash takes in a shuddering breath, as the tears in his eyes threaten to spill. “I didn’t mean to hide it from anyone, it's just…”
And Vash doesn’t need to finish that sentence for Wolfwood to understand. He's a black sheep living in a hunter’s world, and the reaction from the drunken reporter, no matter how anticlimactic, is proof enough of what Vash has undoubtedly had to deal with in his time. Wolfwood will never understand how Vash can continue helping the very people who would turn on him in an instant as soon as they were to learn the truth.
Flicking his spent cigarette to the ground, Wolfwood snuffs it out under the sole of his shoe. “You idiot,” he sighs, “if it weren’t for you, I would have lost everything.”
As much as it aches in his chest, there wasn’t anything they could do for Livio, but the orphanage is still standing, untouched, and it’s Vash the Stampede standing before him, crying to him and wrought with insecurities, who helped him protect it along with everyone else Wolfwood was willing to sacrifice for the sake of his family.
This time, the tiny smile Vash gives him is much more honest as a stray tear rolls down his face, over the beauty mark on his cheek and down his neck until it soaks into the high collar of his form fitting shirt. Wolfwood prefers when he smiles for real, since the forced ones he uses are too painful to look at, when Wolfwood can see right through the facade.
There’s another urge of sorts tugging at Wolfwood's chest, one that can’t be satisfied by the taste of a cigarette on his tongue.
Mirroring Vash from before, Wolfwood twists a hand into the hood of Vash's bright red jacket and yanks him close again. He only gives Vash enough time to squeak at the sudden manhandling before he leans in and returns Vash's kiss. A little late, sure, but better late than never.
After only a second of hesitation, which feels like a lifetime to Wolfwood, Vash leans into him again and circles his arms around Wolfwood's back. He opens up so easily then, asking for Wolfwood to taste him as he sighs soft sounds against Wolfwood's insistent mouth.
So he does, and he angles his head so their mouths fit together better and lets his free arm slip inside Vash's jacket to hold him by the small of his slender waist.
The weight of Vash on him, it's a stark contrast to the weapon he lugs around on his back all day. Even when Vash hugs him tighter and whines into Wolfwood's willing mouth, it’s nothing compared to the weight he’s obligated to carry with him since joining the Eye of Michael.
But even if Vash is easier to hold, he still carries with him a myriad of hypothetical baggage that likely weighs him down just as much as the physical weight of Wolfwood’s cross.
When his jaw starts to ache from Vash's growing enthusiasm, Wolfwood pulls away from him and holds him back by the grip he has on Vash's collar when Vash tries to follow him. His pale face is already such an alluring shade of deep red and he blinks at Wolfwood with a question that doesn't need to be spoken. His eyes are searching Wolfwood’s for any semblance of hesitation from behind those tacky, orange frames sitting crooked on his nose. The sight of it tugs relentlessly at Wolfwood’s pounding heart so he shoves his forehead against Vash’s so the proximity makes it easier for Wolfwood to ignore the growing…something tightening in his chest when he looks at Vash…so vulnerable in front of him.
“Wolfwood…?” Vash speaks first between the sounds of their heavy breaths and Wolfwood shakes his head, rubbing their foreheads together and drawing a pained grunt from Vash at the action.
Huffing against Vash's face, Wolfwood pitches his gruff voice low and asks, “What are you getting at here, Needle-Noggin?”
Waiting for Vash's answer, the hands on his back tighten into his suit and Vash is blinking back tears again. “It's been so long since,” he sniffs, “Please just - for tonight–” he can’t even keep his voice steady anymore as he confesses to Wolfwood who listens with sincerity as Vash opens up to him as much as he’s willing to, “I need to forget…”
And Wolfwood gets it despite the fact neither of them have revealed everything to one another. He gets it, because he’d like to forget too, if only for tonight.
“Don't forget you're stuck with me for now, Needle-Noggin, so don't do anything you'll end up regretting later,” he says, grinding his forehead into Vash's who huffs a breathy laugh. It’s such a relief to hear it, because Vash is always so melancholic, Wolfwood has to wonder when the last time Vash was genuinely happy.
“It's too late for that - regarding other things,” he says, and quickly clarifies like Wolfwood might get offended or something if Vash actually does end up regretting doing anything with him.
Then they’re kissing again, tugging at each other's loose clothes, plucking sunglasses from their faces and shoving them into pockets to be fished out later when they leave. With their jackets on the floor and mouths occupied with each other, Wolfwood slips his fingers beneath the bottom hem of Vash's shirt, taking it with him as he drags the light touch of his fingers up the curves and divots of Vash's body.
When he passes over something cold and hard embedded into Vash's skin, Wolfwood's fingers twitch at the unexpected sensation. Vash must have noticed it too, because he gasps into Wolfwood’s mouth before stepping out of his hands like Wolfwood had scorched him personally.
Wolfwood sighs, “See, regretting it already, huh?”
“No, I-” Vash scrambles to explain himself, making a grab for Wolfwood's wrist as he goes for another cigarette. “It isn't anything to do with you,” he says, and pleads for Wolfwood to stay with those big, blue puppy eyes of his.
“Then what is it,” Wolfwood's grumbles, a little more harsh than necessary, and occupies his tense hands by stuffing them into his pockets instead.
That familiar sadness is coming through on Vash's nervous smile again and Wolfwood almost regrets snapping at him like that. Almost.
“Well, I'm not exactly a sight for sore eyes, underneath it all,” Vash states while rubbing at the back of his neck with a despondent grin that anyone could see through.
Clenching his teeth, Wolfwood can't help rolling his eyes at Vash's flimsy excuse. “Then what are you starting things for, if you’re not willing to finish them?” And maybe it might have been a low blow, considering the events of Windmill Village and the obvious jump of Vash's shoulders at the accusation. “I’m ready to fuck you - Vash the stampede - as a plant and you think I really give a damn what you look like naked?”
Call him harsh or whatever, but sweet-talking isn’t exactly a strong point for him and now he’s itching for a fix of something to take the edge off. If Vash is going to stop him every step of the way then he might as well leave him now and chainsmoke the building frustration away until he runs out of cigarettes or passes out - whatever happens first.
Vash breathes another nervous laugh. “I guess you're right. I'm sorry, Wolfwood.”
He’d berate him for apologizing too, but then Vash is grabbing the hem of his shirt and pulling it over his head which reveals the myriad of scars, some deep, some shallow, littering the expanse of Vash's body. There's chunks of metal embedded into his skin too, which must have been what Wolfwood touched earlier that caused Vash to back away, self-conscious of it all.
He probably shouldn't stare, considering how Vash appears to feel about it, but he’s stuck trying to figure out - as Vash's apprehensive gaze darts around, looking anywhere and everywhere but at Wolfwood - why Wolfwood of all people would criticize Vash for all the trouble his body shows he’s been through.
Now Wolfwood is overwhelmed with the need to touch. “Heh. Since we’ve got that out of the way,” Wolfwood pulls one of his hands free of his pockets and points down with a stern command to “sit.”
When Vash listens, first glancing around the room before picking up on the fact that yes, Wolfwood definitely meant on the bed and not the floor, he scrambles to do as he’s told. He sits on the edge of the bed and looks to Wolfwood again, waiting patiently for Wolfwood to continue. The casual obedience sends a shocking jolt of arousal straight to Wolfwood's dick, trapped in his slacks, so he closes in on Vash and stands between Vash's spread knees.
Wolfwood's mouth waters just from the curious, expectant look Vash sends him from where he sits, beneath him, and he decides to get the ball rolling with a swift but firm kick to the back of Vash’s ankle.
Making the usual spectacle of himself, Vash squawks as he’s knocked off balance. After flailing around, Vash catches himself with his elbows pressed into the bed behind him as Wolfwood grabs the leg he kicked up by the calf. Stepping one foot on the edge on the bed, Wolfwood props Vash's captured leg over his thigh and begins unlacing his boot. “From now on, let me take care of you,” he states as he yanks off Vash's boot and tosses it to the side. “There’s nothing you can surprise me with, so stop your useless stalling and let me have you.”
“But, I-” Vash begins, but Wolfwood sends him a daunting glare that shuts Vash up with a nervous bite to his bottom lip. “Okay, fine,” he finally surrenders with an exaggerated sigh. Wolfwood is eager to find out what else Vash seems to be hiding
Guess he’ll just have to figure them out as he goes, which is exactly what he’s been trying to tell Vash in the first place. “Now you’re getting it, Needle-Noggin,” he says with a little too much unadulterated affection softening the usual gruffness he speaks with. It’s a slip up he’ll work on getting rid of later, when he doesn't have a blushing and willing body under him, staring up at him with expectant baby blues that keep drawing him in over and over again.
As Wolfwood joins Vash on the shabby bed, he directs Vash to lie back on it properly. Vash eagerly listens again, and as he crawls up the bed, he struggles to unlace his other boot for a moment in a comical display of clumsy anxiety before it's tossed to the floor with the other one.
Despite the hang-up, Wolfwood only rolls his tired eyes and internally forgives Vash for the lapse when he gives Wolfwood an apologetic grin. He’s stupid cute, Wolfwood is learning, and falling for him now wouldn’t be in the best interests of either of them later down the line, so he undermines that thought with a firm push of his palm to the center of Vash's marked up chest to get himself back on track.
Vash goes easily enough, sinking into the dingy pillow with a rushed gasp knocked from him when he lands. Wolfwood snuffs a laugh from escaping in the back of his throat at Vash's continued dramatics and instead pushes Vash's knees apart and slides in between.
“So, what’ll it be, Needle-Noggin? What do you want from me?” Wolfwood turns one palm up and nods to it, “A little more foreplay, or,” he does the same with his other hand, “we can jump right into it. I’ll do whatever you want, because I'm here to help you forget.”
And maybe the same applies to himself - he hovers over Vash then, balancing his weight with his fists pressed into the thin mattress on either side of Vash's chest. The motion drives the hardening line of Wolfwood's cock into the seam of Vash's pants, who whines, soft and shaky, at the contact.
With his fingers twisted into the worn sheets beneath him, Vash rolls his hips over Wolfwood again, giving Wolfwood a wonderful glimpse of the Vash who is willing to satisfy his own needs for once.
Wolfwood groans at the sight, rocking with Vash, watching those pretty, blue eyes roll shut as he moans airy sounds around his swollen, bitten lip. He grinds down on Vash harder, only to pause when he realizes Vash is…unexpectedly soft where Wolfwood ruts against him.
Glancing down, Wolfwood’s curious gaze darts around the creases of Vash's loose pants. Since he promised Vash nothing could surprise him, he regains his composure after his momentary lapse to find Vash staring back at him, wide-eyed and full of renowned uncertainty once again.
As it stands, Vash is sort of… not human, despite looking human enough, but it's ridiculously unfair of Wolfwood to assume…things based on someone's appearance. He breathes in deep to tell Vash as much, to reassure him everything is fine, no matter what he’s still trying to hide from Wolfwood, but Vash reaches for him and grapples for Wolfwood's dress shirt before he can.
“Uh, um, more–more foreplay,” Vash stumbles over his words with jerky nods that sway his spiky bangs around as he finally gets a hold of Wolfwood's shirt and tugs him down.
Despite the clear diversion on Vash's part, Wolfwood doesn't hang onto it and instead, gives in to Vash’s request and matches his frantic pace.
The mouth on his is wet and warm, no different than another human’s from what Wolfwood has been able to tell so far. As Wolfwood tastes him, Vash responds in kind, licking back and making his pleasure known with soft, little sounds just as anyone else would do.
The irony of it all isn’t lost on Wolfwood as Vash has shown more compassion for humanity than any poor excuse of a human Wolfwood has ever known, and that includes himself.
“Wolfwood…” Vash sighs over Wolfwood's lips and turns away before Wolfwood can smother him with deep kisses again.
He sucks at Vash's exposed neck instead, just under the turn of his jaw, which draws the sweetest moan from him.
“Wolfwood…” he calls his name again, more stern this time, so Wolfwood leans back, but not without leaving a sizeable, red splotch on Vash's pale neck and pinning him with a deep scowl he hopes conveys his annoyance at Vash's repeated disruptions.
“Can I help you, pillow princess?” Wolfwood makes sure to hiss the new endearment through his teeth, but his inherent irritation melts away when Vash's flush deepens.
Oh, this is getting so bad.
“One of us is over dressed,” Vash quips back and gets to work on pulling Wolfwood's dress shirt open. His pink tongue peeks out from between his kiss swollen lips and his eyebrows furrow as he concentrates on pushing every button free. Wolfwood is absolutely enthralled with him until the dual sensation of Vash's hands - one warm and one cold - slips beneath the collar of his shirt and shoves it off his shoulders. “It’s only fair,” Vash chides him with an exaggerated pout and Wolfwood can’t decide if he’d rather kiss it off his face or shove him into his pillow. It should be illegal to be so damn adorable.
He opts for a third option instead, which consists of an insult, “What are you, a bratty kid?” and finishing what Vash started for him by tearing his shirt off his arms and throwing it aside.
Just like Vash, Wolfwood isn’t without his own brand of scars, which Vash has likely noticed as his curious gaze darts along Wolfwood's naked chest. They’re not nearly as drastic as Vash's, but accelerated growth didn’t exactly come trauma-free.
“Okay, we’re even now,” Wolfwood huffs, then takes Vash's answering grin as an invitation to continue.
He goes straight for Vash's belt then, unbuckling it with a swift click and completely disregarding Vash's startled yelp.
“Can it, Needle-Noggin,” he growls through his teeth, to which Vash dramatically slaps his hands over his own mouth and nods in a show of reluctant acceptance. Then it’s back to getting Vash out of his pants, but as Wolfwood curls his fingers into the bands of pants, underwear, and whatever else Vash has on down there, it’s Wolfwood who hesitates this time. Because, as a first time plant fucker, and simply going off of Vash's reactions to Wolfwood's advances, it dawns on him then that Wolfwood really doesn’t know what to expect.
His skin prickles, so he glances back to Vash who’s piercing gaze bores straight into him with the unexpectedly crushing weight of curious anticipation. Anticipation for what, exactly, Wolfwood couldn't say, but Vash sure has a lot of nerve to toy with him as he has.
With his blood hot under his skin, Wolfwood allows his nerves to get the best of him and shout, much louder than he intended, “Stop staring at me so hard, you’re really messing me up!”
Vash huffs a rushed exhale muffled by his hands still covering his mouth. Wolfwood assumes he’s scared him again, but when he looks at Vash again, he can see the smile in Vash's bright eyes despite his hidden mouth.
Wolfwood, for one, can't for the life of him figure out what Vash finds so funny, but he can't deny getting Vash to relax enough to be able to laugh so freely is a huge step in the right direction. He’ll let it slide this time, but after that he can't promise he’ll be so merciful.
Getting back to the task at hand, Wolfwood is reminded what tripped him up in the first place as he grips Vash's pants again. He shakes his head to regain his composure so he can make good on his earlier promise when he had reassured Vash he couldn't care less what he looked like.
At Wolfwood's pull, Vash's pants follow easily, loose enough to fall off if Vash were standing without a belt to hold them up. Even though he does his best to ignore it, Wolfwood’s skin continues to crawl under Vash's intent, scrutinizing gaze, studying Wolfwood and waiting for his reaction.
However, they've stalled for far longer than Wolfwood can stand for. He's aching to touch Vash, make him feel good, make him forget everything he needs to for as long as Vash will let him, and most of all, figure out how to deal with the body Vash presents to him.
Once he's dragged Vash's pants down his slender hips, Wolfwood can finally see for himself what Vash appears to be so self-conscious of. The growing silence stretches between them as Wolfwood contemplates what to do with Vash after playing him for such a gullible fool. “So, you're messing with me after all, aren't you, Needle-Noggin?”
Vash blinks, then moves his hands from over his mouth to hold them up in a show of surrender. “No? I-uhm…it's just that–” Vash cuts his own blubbering rambles off with a nervous chuckle and attempts to hide himself once again by drawing his knees closer to his chest so he can snap them shut as best as he can with Wolfwood still perched below him. “Well, um, I’ve just…learned…the hard way that humans tend to be more on the binary side of things so, haha…”
Wolfwood gives him the time to compose himself as he waves his hands around, has a familiar uncertainty in the upward curve of his mouth as he explains himself even after Wolfwood thought he made it more than clear he’d accept him the way he is.
“So, when someone sees me they let it be known…pretty loud and clear…what they expected, so…”
By that point, Vash's usual steady voice has dwindled to nearly a whisper. He’s avoiding Wolfwood’s eyes again as he wraps his arms around the back of his thighs to curl up on himself further and crosses his ankles over himself. The sight of it sets off something within Wolfwood, makes him so unreasonably infuriated that he’d set out to kill every deserving bastard who ever dared to hurt Vash in any way.
He's been a victim first-hand of the kinds of atrocities humans are willing to commit to achieve whatever selfish desires they want, and how Vash can still be so forgiving - so willing to help the very humans who will strip a plant of all it’s resources until it dies, the humans who will look at him as a human only because Vash can blend in so well - but still judge him because he’s not what they expect.
There isn’t enough nicotine on the entire planet of Noman’s Land to ease the budding rage within him. Even as his fingers twitch with the urge to reach for his cigarettes, he wouldn't be able to get much further than that since his lighter is in his suit jacket on the floor, and he’ll be damned if he’s tearing himself away from Vash's side now, not after opening himself up to Wolfwood like that.
Of course, Wolfwood can’t act on his inherent anger just yet, since he has more important things to attend to at the moment. He composes himself with a long, deep breath, only showing a small degree of his annoyance with an irritated click of his tongue. “Well, forget what you learned from them,” he drops his palms onto the tops of Vash's knees and pushes them apart again. Vash blinks up at him with wet eyes too pretty for all the sorrow they hold and Wolfwood feels that persistent tugging in his chest again. “Because you’re with me now, and I like you just the way you are.” He unbuckles the holster holding Vash's gun from around his leg and sets it aside, then pats at the bunched up material of Vash's pants around his thighs. “Kick these off, they’re in the way.”
When Wolfwood begins to work his own pants open, Vash gets with the program and shuffles out of his. He gets his feet caught on the fitted hems and whines pathetically as he fights to coordinate himself enough to stretch them around the curve of his heels. If he weren’t already aching with the increasing need to get his dick wet, Wolfwood would relentlessly teasehim for it. Instead, he rolls his eyes so far up he could probably see his brain if he went a little further.
Reaching into the opening of his slacks, Wolfwood tugs his cock free and breathes a long sigh of relief now that he's finally out of the suffocating confines of his pants.
Vash seems to finally be getting into it too as he opens up for Wolfwood again, letting him settle between his legs and only glancing around for a brief moment before meeting Wolfwood's gaze with a small smile and sheepish shrug of his slender shoulders.
“You can stop acting cute,” Wolfwood grumbles but doesn’t try to bite back his own crooked grin as he reaches down to touch Vash where he’s wet and dripping and waiting for Wolfwood to fill him up. Before Vash can protest, his fingers glide easily down the slick folds of Vash's cunt which draws an adorable, quiet gasp from between Vash's trembling lips.
Despite all of Vash's apparent insecurities, Wolfwood finds Vash is strikingly human here too as Wolfwood's searching fingers catch on the dip of a twitching hole.
“NnnWolfwood…please…” Vash begs on an airy exhale before dragging his teeth over his bottom lip. As Wolfwood touches him, Vash tilts his hips to follow Wolfwood's teasing fingers, trying to direct them back where he wants him.
Wolfwood hisses a curse under his breath when the desperate show of want and need sends a hot wave of arousal straight to his uncomfortably stiff dick and he can't keep himself from rutting along the bend of Vash's upper thigh for some semblance of relief. It's almost as if a switch had been flipped somewhere after Wolfwood had walked Vash through his underserved self-esteem issues because now he’s completely unashamed to spread himself open for Wolfwood to see.
He’d be spiting himself to carry on teasing Vash any longer, so, giving in to his own desires, and fulfilling Vash's unspoken request, Wolfwood circles the soaked pad of his middle finger around Vash’s twitching hole and shoves in all the way up to the last knuckle.
Even with only one finger, Vash is already squeezing him so good and whimpering for him. “You alright there, Needle-Noggin?” Wolfwood huffs, and really he should be asking himself that, because the wet grip Vash's warm body has on his finger could have him coming from the anticipation of getting his dick in there alone.
Vash muffles a whine behind his lips, shut tight, and shakes his head. Wolfwood's heart drops to his gut at the split second of concern of possibly hurting Vash in his carelessness, but then Vash’s trembling mouth falls open so he can selfishly demand, “more.”
It comes as a bit of a pleasant surprise to Wolfwood who has learned Vash isn't the type to ask anything of anyone, no matter how miniscule or dire the situation may be. He always feels the need to carry the full weight of his burdens on his own and really, who could blame him when all he brings with him is trouble.
It's so damn arousing that Wolfwood has managed to tear down so many of Vash's impenetrable walls in merely a matter of moments, so who would he be to deny Vash something he stepped out of his well established comfort zone to ask for?
“Alright, alright, since you asked so nicely,” Wolfwood drawls in a sultry purr and drags the pad of his single finger nice and firm along Vash's fluttering walls as he pulls out. Vash sucks his bottom lip between his teeth then, but when Wolfwood shoves back in with two, it pops out of his mouth, red and bitten, as Vash's angelic voice hitches on a sudden moan.
“Ah, Wolfwood…” Vash rocks his body in time with Wolfwood's fingers, clearly knowing what he wants as he tilts his hips every time Wolfwood slides in.
He's still unbelievably tight and he’s basically gushing all over Wolfwood's soaking fingers. Even his palm is wet with the undeniable evidence of Vash’s arousal. Wolfwood is aching to be inside him.
“Wolfwood…” Vash whimpers again. When Wolfwood glances away from his fingers working Vash open, he notices the wetness of his eyelashes as he squirms around. “It’s starting to hurt…please.”
Wolfwood freezes immediately, his eyes widening as he wonders if he's been misreading Vash entirely. “I’m hurting you?” he asks and pulls his fingers free. Vash's gasp as he does so is nearly inaudible, but Wolfwood catches the way his face twists into a pained looking frown. “Say something sooner, then.”
“N-no, I didn't mean–” Vash protests as he shifts closer to Wolfwood, his breathing shallow, and sets a hand over his stomach, “it hurts because I need you inside me…please…?”
Even as his body is literally aching to be filled, Vash hesitates, and Wolfwood would be pissed about it if he werent currently thinking only with his dick. He stares at Vash’s hand on his stomach and briefly wonders if he can reach where Vash needs him.
“Fuck, okay, yeah just–say something sooner because I’ll fuck you whenever you want me to.” Wolfwood doesn't even care if he’s rambling a bit because he meant every word of it. Whether or not Vash will ever take him up on that, Wolfwood can't say for certain, so he takes his chance while he has it. Grabbing his cock, Wolfwood drags the drooling head down Vash's slick cunt until he catches on his stretched hole and Wolfwood doesn’t think he could keep himself from pushing in even if he mustered every ounce of self-control he has.
With Vash so impossibly wet, Wolfwood nearly sinks all the way in on one long stroke. The two of them echo airy sounds of shallow pants or heavy groans. Pulling back, Wolfwood places his palms on Vash's inner thighs and spreads him further with his weight, fucking in deep with a snap of his hips and shuddering at the obscene squelch of Vash taking him.
Another deep thrust has Vash arching beneath him, moaning “so good…Wolfwood“, and reaching both arms behind his head to twist his shaky hands into his worn out pillow.
Wolfwood can do nothing more than mindlessly agree with him and Vash rewards him with an unfairly timed squeeze on his cock that has Wolfwood tripping over his rhythm with a quick, jerking motion.
Vash doesn’t seem to mind it as he lets his eyes fall shut and lies back all spread out for Wolfwood to take and appreciate. Getting to witness Vash enjoying himself so freely, it does something to Wolfwood, so he slides his knees wide across the sheets and fucks him in earnest.
Hitched gasps are forced from Vash's panting lungs as he’s rocked on the bed, his face is screwed up from overwhelming pleasure, and the muscles in his thighs where Wolfwood holds him open tighten under his palms just as his body does on Wolfwood’s cock.
As he watches Vash take him so good, Wolfwood catches sight of thin lines beginning to show on Vash's skin. His curious gaze follows them where they light up in a peculiar pattern down the length of his legs. They’re coming in on his stomach too where they move along his flexing muscles and rise with his chest. Aside from deep scars and embedded metal interrupting the mesmerizing pattern of lines and circles, Wolfwood could probably get lost in a trance following the markings with his eyes.
They even frame Vash’s face perfectly with pulses of blue that remind Wolfwood of big, melancholic eyes.
He's drawn to touch them, so he does, keeping Vash open with one hand while he glides the tips of his fingers of the other over Vash's toned stomach.
And while the radiance at first is weak, the marks appear to shine just a little bit more when Wolfwood's roaming touch passes over them.
“Heh, you’re glowing for me,” Wolfwood murmurs in a low rumble and deliberately slows the motions of his hips to a languid grind. Now that he's paying attention to it, Wolfwood can see Vash's markings are pulsing dimly in time to his thrusts as well.
“Hmm…yeah,” Vash whispers back, arching his spine in a mouth-watering curve to take as much of Wolfwood as he can. He’s got a dopey smile on his face that Wolfwood could fall for if he isn’t careful, but when Vash opens his pretty, blue eyes to meet Wolfwood's appreciative gaze from beneath his long lashes, all of it is wiped away much too soon when Vash realizes what Wolfwood meant.
Wolfwood curses again as Vash visibly tenses under his roaming touch and his eyes open wide with renewed anxiety. He helplessly witnesses those frightened eyes dart around and fill with anxiety once again, and again, Vash is crossing his arms over his chest and curling up on himself in a miserable attempt to hide the glowing patterns on his skin.
“Hey, hey,” Wolfwood snaps, and instantly regrets his harsh tone when Vash hugs himself tighter, squeezing his eyes shut, too. He thought they were past all of this, and yet, Wolfwood is more frustrated with himself than anything, because he obviously didn't make himself clear enough.
Blowing his messy bangs off of his forehead, Wolfwood pitches his guttural voice to a low purr and shifts so he’s hovering over Vash. “Just how many times will you make me say it before you get it through that thick, spikey head of yours?” Leaning closer, he brushes his lips along the sharp angle of Vash’s jaw, following him when he stretches in a futile effort to get away. “You’re stunning, even if you’re an insufferable idiot.”
The sound Vash blesses him with after that is quiet and wouldn't have been completely discernable if Wolfwood wasn’t currently plastered to Vash's body, but he reckons Vash just tried - and failed - to bite back a little giggle.
Now that he seems relaxed again, Wolfwood grabs Vash's wrists crossed over his chest and shoves them into the bed on either side of Vash's head. He pins them under his palms with his weight, shifting where he's stuffed inside Vash and the patterned marks on his body light up again in time when he breathes a shaky moan.
He keeps his eyes pinched shut, however, which is a big no-no for Wolfwood who refuses to let his efforts go to waste.
Wolfwood grinds his teeth at the fact Vash is still hiding from him. “Look at me, Needle-Noggin,” he utters, completely at a loss for anything else he could do to get through to Vash even as he continues to fuck into him. Even as he openly admires all the little details that come together to make Vash who he is.
Sinking his teeth into his bottom lip, Wolfwood bites back a frustrated groan. He doesn't have anything left in his arsenal, aside from getting Vash off. Releasing one of Vash's wrists - the prosthetic one - Wolfwood only hesitates for a moment to see if Vash will try to cover himself again. When he doesn't, Wolfwood directs his free hand down to Vash's drenched cunt.
As he's similar enough to a human as a plant can probably get, Wolfwood only searches along Vash's slippery folds for a brief moment before he passes over a line of several sensitive nubs that tear a pleading whine from Vash's raspy throat. His knees dig into Wolfwood's sides where he tries to snap them shut at the overwhelming sensations.
“No way, no more of that,” Wolfwood chides as he begins to lose his composure to the building urge to come. “Stop thinking about it,” he huffs, “you’re supposed to use me to forget, or am I not fucking you stupid enough - is that it, Vash?”
As Wolfwood rolls the pads of his fingers over Vash's sensitive bumps and ridges, Vash answers him with a startled gasp and finally, finally Wolfwood is graced with the sight of Vash's mesmerizing blue eyes again. They’re shiny and wet with unshed tears and glow with the same pattern of Vash's alluring plant features drawn all over his body.
“Wo-Wolfwood,” Vash hiccups around his name, struggling to catch his shallow breaths as Wolfwood works him inside and out. He grapples for Wolfwood, throwing his damaged prosthetic arm over Wolfwood's shoulder and claws at his back when Wolfwood shoves in particularly deep. “C–I’m coming… Wolfwood!”
“Yeah, that’s right,” Wolfwood grunts and doubles down on his efforts to fuck a mind blowing orgasm out of Vash. “Come on my cock, Needle-Noggin.”
It’s easy to ignore the stinging in his back as Vashes prosthetic tears him up relentlessly when Vash is locking his ankles around his waist, and tossing his head back into the pillow that’s a little more than worse for wear. He’s gripping Wolfwood so good with his entire, incredible body that Wolfwood for the first time in his life feels the need to confess his sins to whatever god will allow him to follow this captivating angel to whatever afterlife awaits him.
Vash sings for him too - pretty, uninhibited sobs that slur the syllables of his name, until Wolfwood becomes too difficult and he settles for his given name Nick.
And Wolfwood can’t hold himself back anymore, so his hips stutter and snap against the back of Vash's scarred and illuminated thighs as he fucks his come into Vash's waiting body.
“No—nonono, don’t stop, don’t stop...”
“I’m not,” Wolfwood lies through his teeth, but Vash looks beyond delirious enough to call him out on it as Wolfwood strokes him off.
When Vash squeezes his eyes shut again, it’s not because he’s hiding. It’s quite the opposite this time around as every tendon under his skin draws taut and he finally comes with a shuddering, hiccupping sob. His back arches impossibly tight and his throat bobs as he cries his pleasure into the small space of the rundown room. Wolfwood grunts through the discomfort of overstimulation as Vash milks his spent cock for more than he can give.
The marks on Vash's skin are pulsing bright again and if Wolfwood ever humored the slim possibility of getting a glimpse of heaven, he’s entirely convinced that Vash, beneath him now, shuddering on his cock and literally glowing for him - because he fucked him that good - is the closest he’ll ever get to seeing it.
Vash is huffing the sweetest little sighs as he draws out his orgasm with tiny shifts of his hips in Wolfwood's lap and the hand Wolfwood still has pinned under his weight clenches and grabs at empty handfuls of air. The sight of it tugs at Wolfwood's fluttering heart so he swoops in and takes Vash's mouth again to breathe in all his wavering sounds. Vash is eager to hug him closer with his prosthetic curling around Wolfwood's shoulders while Wolfwood mirrors the motion by slotting his fingers between Vash's flesh ones and grasping him back.
“Hah, Nick,” Vash softly mutters between sloppy kisses, to which Wolfwood is now all too aware just how much he’s beginning to enjoy the sound of his given name on Vash's tongue.
Mustering all his strength to drag himself out of Vash's loosening hold, his chest aches when Vash's dark, expressive eyebrows pinch together in a gut-wrenching display reminiscent of that of a kicked puppy. Wolfwood can’t even be sure if Vash is doing it on purpose or if he’s just this naturally skilled at messing with Wolfwood the way he has since the day he met him. Adding to Vash’s pout, the fading, ethereal glow of Vash’s distinguishing plant features is hardly helping with Wolfwood's internal hurricane of disastrous emotions.
Averting his lingering gaze with a well-timed eye roll, Wolfwood grumbles, “Don't give me that look, Needle-Noggin,” and proceeds to throw the the thin, rumpled blanket they had kicked aside at some point over Vash's infuriatingly adorable face, who yelps as he somehow gets himself tangled up in it.
It's the perfect opportunity for Wolfwood to huff a rushed exhale from his nose with a fond curve of his mouth that he would deny until the day he dies if anyone were to have seen it. He wipes it from his face just as soon as Vash’s spikey, blonde mess of hair successfully emerges from the blanket.
“So…what do we do now?”
Which is a terrible question considering the darkness of the night that filters in through the horribly shaded window and Wolfwood recalling his noticeably smaller funds.
Standing from the bed to fix himself up in his slacks, Wolfwood gestures to the low-grade room he paid for and arches an eyebrow at Vash like it should be obvious. “We’re staying the night,” he states with a finality in his weary tone that leaves no room for argument, because he’s going to get every double dollar's worth out of the room he never intended to book in the first place.
+++
Wolfwood can't get a good wink of sleep with the intermittent glow of Vash’s markings burning impressions behind his eyelids, despite how dimly they’ve since faded in the last few hours. He’s been biding his time perched against the headboard and petting at Vash's signature spikey head as he salvages whatever dredges of nicotine he can from the chewed up filter of his last long burnt-out cigarette.
But if Vash asks how he slept that night, he’ll blame his lack of shut eye on Vash's, soft, open-mouth snores that he’s currently breathing against Wolfwood's hip. Mostly to tease him, but also because he worries if Vash thinks his markings are a burden to him, then Wolfwood might lose all hope of ever seeing them glow for him again any time soon.
+++
“We can take a detour and visit them before we leave!”
Just moments ago, Vash and Wolfwood were rudely woken up way too early to heavy fists banging on their door along with irate threats of various degrees of bodily harm due to patronage noise complaints and underpayment. The two of them are grabbing for clothes and boots while Wolfwood's cross does an amazing job of stalling for time with its substantial weight keeping the door shut.
“It’s not happening!” Wolfwood shouts above the thundering knocks as he steps into his shoes. Even at a critical time like this, Vash isn’t going to let the orphanage thing go.
“I think it’ll be good for you!” he presses again, nearly crashing into Wolfwood when he trips over his unlaced boots.
“Don’t tell me what’s good for me, you don't know anything!” Wolfwood shrugs his jacket on and grabs his weapon by the straps. “You better be ready, because when I move this thing–”
“Yeah, yeah, I'm ready!” Vash hastily interjects despite the loops of shoelaces sticking out from where he haphazardly shoved them into the high tops of his boots in lieu of actually tying them.
All Wolfwood can do is roll his eyes, exasperated at Vash's blatant stupidity, and grinds his teeth together as he latches onto his cross with both hands, ready to make their move and attempt to escape with their lives.
He’s itching for a smoke right now, but he’ll let the adrenaline do all the work as he hauls his cross away from the door and swings it around so it lands across his upper back.
“Now, Needle-Noggin!” He orders just as the door bursts open and Wolfwood fires his warning shot.
He’s swiftly answered in kind when their assailant fires back with an automatic rifle, cursing Vash internally for being so stupidly empathetic and pleading with Wolfwood not to hurt anyone with those stupid, endearing, blue puppy eyes of his.
With his cross now thrown over his back, the rapid ping of bullets striking metal rings in his ears as his weapon deflects them, and then he’s chasing after Vash where he recently jumped out of the window he was generous enough to raise so they wouldn’t break it on their way out. Not really something to worry over when the building's owner is destroying the place of his own volition, but Wolfwood will let it go until he’s not running for his life.
“Nick!”
Wolfwood's heart jumps at the exhilarated call of his name from Vash, in which he turns to find him waiting for him beneath the window sill like a lost puppy. “What the hell are you doing? You were supposed to be running away!”
A stray bullet whizzes by his face much too close for comfort when he mistakenly pauses to berate Vash for his poor choices - and making the same poor choices himself - but before he can even make a grab for his cross, Vash is whipping around faster than Wolfwood can comprehend and shooting the gun out of the store owner’s hands.
As is typical with Vash’s style, the man is staggeringly confused as his weapon clatters to the ground, but is entirely unharmed.
Then Vash gives Wolfwood a genuine, but sheepish grin over his shoulder. “Now’s our chance,” he huffs a nervous chuckle, “before he picks it back up and starts shooting at us again.”
Wolfwood wants to despise him, but the tightness in his chest won’t allow that just yet. Not when he's grabbing Vash by the wrist and dragging him away to safety before he gets them both killed. As Wolfwood drags him along, Vash is laughing again, so good and real that he can’t keep his eyes open from the big, goofy grin on his face.
That’s when it really sinks in, as Wolfwood struggles to keep a good breath of air in his lungs - entirely unrelated to the exertion of running full speed over waves of sand that sink under their feet - oh, he's in big trouble, and it's all because of a smile that wrinkles the corners of baby blues kept hidden behind tacky, orange lenses.