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Mr. Vash Saverem had developed a reputation as a lifelong bachelor. He was an incorrigible (and horrible) flirt, a passionate traveler, and under the constant governance of his respectable brother. He was fine of appearance and, though burdened with defacements from his many mysterious adventures in far off lands, some ladies found these blemishes rather roguish and intriguing. He was quite tall, well bred, with eyes that shone with a bright, curious light. He was, of course, a sought after prospect, with an income exceeding £10,000 a year and a vast estate under his sole responsibility. His personality, though grating to the tender wallflowers and quieter misses and sirs, was not so unsuitable for a man of his status and was perfectly tolerable in acknowledgement of his finer qualities (as aforementioned, his wealth and land, naturally).
But, although he enjoyed lively dances with the season’s brightest debutantes and made for a fine conversation partner when not wondering over a property’s groundskeeping, Mr. Vash was not in want of a marital partner. He had laughed off the prospect numerous times, despite displeased looks from both his brother and conspiring mamas, stating his was a life of solitude.
“Oh, but surely you get lonely, Mr. Vash, in your home, with no wife to care for you?” A mother desperately asked, clutching her daughter’s limp wrist in her hand and pulling her towards the bachelor. She eyed the small woman standing next to Vash angrily. “My Milly makes a fine potato! It pairs with anything!”
“Mama-“ The poor girl whispered, trying to remove herself from her mother’s hold. She was interrupted by a chuckle.
“I’m sure Ms. Milly’s potato is divine, but I’m not home enough to be lonely and I eat mostly in my study. It’s mostly meals taken on the run for me, I’m afraid. Her excellent cooking could never be appreciated properly by myself. However, my good friend, Ms. Meryl Stryfe, has a great love of tubers. I insist you share your methods with her.”
Vash deftly pushed Meryl forward to stand in front of Milly as he excused himself from the conversation, dabbing lightly at the beads of sweat on his forehead. He had come home for the summer, hoping the marriage mart had been largely closed for the season, yet it seemed he had spoken with every eligible partner and their mama in the ton tonight. He was smiling politely as he attempted to maneuver through the crowd without being drawn into conversation when he heard his name.
“Vash,” Knives called, standing sharp along the wall. He was dressed pristinely, as was his custom, looking like an exact copy of Vash if he was put through the wash and ironed out of any faults.
“Brother,” Vash answered, tucking his hands behind himself to refrain from fidgeting. Seeing his brother so polished only ever made him want to ruck up his own attire more.
“I’d like to introduce you to a business partner of mine. Mr. Chapel, this is my brother, Vash.”
“Pleased to meet you,” Vash said, bowing his head slightly. The elder man returned the gesture, although remained quiet. His gaze crawled over Vash like a spider, gentle but disconcerting, and Vash found that, as with most of his brother’s business partners, he hated him immediately.
“And this is his ward, Mr. Nicholas D. Wolfwood.” Vash looked away from Chapel, although with reluctance, like taking one’s eyes off a beast who could attack at any moment, to see the man standing beside him.
The party, the room, the music all seemed to slow to a crawl as he took in the man in front of him. Everything was echoing, watery and distant as their eyes met. He noticed, vaguely, his brother continuing to talk, but he was entranced by the gentle curl of hair above Mr. Wolfwood’s left eyebrow and the easy curve of his mouth. He was of a size of Vash, although broader, more proportionate to his height. He had an inscrutable countenance, as if indifferent to the events around him. His eyes, however, were deep-set and open, something kind and gentle beneath them. Vash felt a tug, foreign in his chest, like he was being pulled in to those depths.
“-we wondered whether you would be willing to do so, brother?”
“Hmm?” Vash said, blinking in to focus and staring at Knives dumbly. He caught a flicker of frustration in his brother’s face before he masked it.
“Would you kindly offer Mr. Wolfwood a dance?” Knives repeated, something he only deigned to do because Vash was his brother, he was sure. Vash nodded hastily.
“Yes, yes, of course! Mr. Wolfwood, may I have this dance?” Vash questioned, turning back to face the man and holding out a hand. However, as he did so, he noticed those eyes’ bright light had shuttered to him and their corresponding mouth was slightly pursed in displeasure.
“You may,” Wolfwood answered, tucking his fingers into Vash’s palm.
Vash was unable to properly revel in the feeling of the rough hand in his own as he led Wolfwood to the center of the floor due to the aggravation in just those two words. Vash was no stranger to being vexing, but he usually had opportunity to say more than ten words before he was deemed so.
As the music began, their palms flattened together, faces parallel, Vash attempted the ever complicated practice of flirting while dancing.
“Have you enjoyed the countryside?” He asked quickly before they turned away from each other.
“I have,” Wolfwood answered tersely, spinning on a heel.
Vash stood still as someone else walked around him, waiting patiently for a question to be volleyed back to him, as was custom. On a second turn, he realized one was not forthcoming.
“And is the music to your liking?” He questioned, when they were returned to each other.
“It’s a fine tune.”
Vash could feel his eyebrows furrow, thinking. Perhaps this was a new avenue of communication from the city? Perhaps it was in vogue to talk swiftly and inquire little? If so, he was afraid he’d never be in fashion again.
“You may ask me a return question, if you’d like.” He said, pleasantly, as he walked beside Wolfwood between rows of partners, hands clasped.
Wolfwood hummed.
This would not do. Vash was not one to force conversation where it was not wanted (Lord knows he had been the other partner of such a discussion before) but Wolfwood had unwittingly shown Vash a sweetness in his eyes that Vash would like to inspect further. He could not dance idly by as Wolfwood pretended to be indifferent.
“In fact,” Vash continued on the next turn. “I must insist on it.”
He turned to see a muscle twitch on Wolfwood’s temple.
“Do you make a habit to ignore people only to then demand their undivided attention?” Wolfwood asked, voice tight.
Vash laughed loudly, which caused Wolfwood’s head to snap over to him. Vash saw the crease of Wolfwood’s strong nose between his eyes and attempted to disguise his laugh as a cough.
“My mind wanders often, especially in the sudden and unexpected presence of great beauty. I apologize,” Vash answered, using their joined hands to pull Wolfwood towards him. A sudden surge of pain laced up his leg as his foot was harshly stomped beneath the hard sole of Wolfwood’s heel. Vash choked down his cry of pain.
“So sorry. My feet wander when I’m in the presence of great asininity.” Wolfwood said, a smugness to his tone though his face remained impassive.
“So you think I have a great as-“
Vash was interrupted by the crescendo of the music and the halting of the dance. As the party applauded, Wolfwood quickly bowed, turned, and left Vash standing amongst the other dancers, alone.
“Mr. Wolfwood, wa-“ As Vash took a step forward to follow him in to the crowd, his elbow was pulled by a deceptively dainty hand.
“Mr. Vash! I believe my Rosemary is without a partner, would you be so kind-“
——
Vash did not see Wolfwood again that night, as he was kept busy with a seemingly never ending line of eligible dancing partners and hardly got a chance to rest his stinging foot. He was unsurprised to find a large purple bruise after he took off his shoes that evening.
Vash awoke the next morning with a great curiosity and a mission of great import. Since the source was unwilling, he would have to inquire with the biggest gossiper he knew.
“Brother, what brings Mr. Chapel and Mr. Wolfwood to the country?” He asked with a forced blitheness. They were eating breakfast in one of the less stuffy rooms. Vash acquiesced to stay at Knives’ after any ton events that went into the night because of his fear of Vash’s carriage being overtaken and ransomed by bandits, but in return Vash insisted they not eat in the grand dining room, a brother alone on either side of a long table and yelling to be heard. Instead, they sat at a small study table, dishes left out for them to serve themselves.
“Poor business acumen, what ever else?” Knives said, shuffling the many papers around him while he took a bite of eggs.
“We live in the country, brother. Is that due to poor business acumen?” Vash asked, smarmy.
“We live in the country because the business we manage is here. If you are a man like Chapel, your business is in the city and only improperly handling it would require you to seek refuge here.”
“And Wolfwood was a part of this failed business?”
“In some sense, Wolfwood was the business.”
“I don’t catch your meaning.” Vash stated, puzzled and anxious. Knives was usually quite forthcoming; his reluctance to be blunt on the subject was indication enough of its depravity. He watched Knives finally set down his paper and sigh.
“Chapel came from great wealth. He had a good many businesses, but the one to which I am referring had to do with the boys in his care. He took in several children in the guise of raising them. However, when they were barely of age, he enlisted them to the military and kept their payment for himself. When the boys returned from war, many of them unwell from the tragedy they had seen, he either offered them service into his household or otherwise turned them away. They were penniless.”
Vash was horrified, imagining a young Wolfwood, hopeful to finally have a home only to be shipped off to the horrors of war. Vash shook his head.
“But he did not keep Wolfwood in his service. He introduced him as an equal yesterday evening.”
Knives returned to his reading, taking another bite. “After sitting idly by as his businesses failed, he realized his options were limited. He’s hoping that he can introduce Wolfwood as his ward here in the country where his history is less known and make a successful match for him, securing his future.” Knives shook his head. “He will spend just enough to make it seem as if Wolfwood has security, only to yoke him to some country fool who will end up supporting them both.”
They sat in silence for a few moments as Vash pondered that. How horrible, to never have a home, to never have a true family. For all Knives’ faults, Vash had never felt unloved by him, had never been left without care. And, now, for Wolfwood to be sold off like cattle to the first person who offers, all for the man that stole his hard earned money to line his own coffers.
“Poor Wolfwood,” Vash said, after a while.
Knives snorted. “Don’t pity him, pity the poor fool who marries him.”
——
It was a foggy, misty afternoon, but that didn’t stop Vash from taking his horse out for a ride. Though it had been days, his mind was still full thinking through the new knowledge of Wolfwood’s past, and the speed of his thoughts itched at his muscles, insisting he move.
He had settled his horse to a slow trot when he spotted a something racing in the distance. It was a cloaked figure, shadowed but quick through the field. Vash turned to look but there was no immediate threat for the figure to be in such urgency.
“Are you alright?” He yelled out, but the figure did not stop. He pushed his horse to a run, chasing after them.
As the field blurred around him, his horse quickly passing the distance, he continued to yell out. It was only when he was a small distance away that the figure seemed to hear him and slow.
They were indeed cloaked, their face covered by an ink black hood, and their body bundled in thick fabrics for the cold.
“Are you well?” Vash asked, halting his horse beside them. “You were going quite fast! Is everything al-“
As Vash spoke, the figure took off their hood with a frustrated huff.
“Of course, it’s you,” Wolfwood said, his hair sticking to his head as the mist became a light sprinkle; he bit at a glove to remove it and run his hand through his wet hair. Vash tried very hard not to notice the size of his palm or the length of his fingers.
Vash was startled to see him, his mind having been circling him for so long now that it seemed impossible for him to actually be present. The Wolfwood in his mind’s eye was dressed as he was the night of the ball, but here Wolfwood was lightly wet and flushed from exertion. He looked far more real, touchable and soft like this. If Vash looked closely, he could see that kind spark in his eye despite his scowl.
“Wolfwood! Why are you riding so fast? And in this weather!” Vash fretted.
“The same as you, I suspect.” Wolfwood stated. “My horse needed riding and I needed to be released from that damn stale house.”
Vash laughed, startled at the bluntness.
“Quite,” Vash answered. “Although, I fear it’s a risky business being out in the rain like this. It’s not good for the constitution.”
Wolfwood rolled his eyes. He was so expressive, now, compared to their first meeting. Vash wondered how much of Wolfwood that night was real and how much was the careful performance of an eligible bachelor.
“That old wives tale. An excuse to keep a lady sick and needy at her intended’s house overnight.”
“Oh? You look so down on ladies as to think them capable of such deceit?” Vash arched an eyebrow.
Wolfwood snorted inelegantly. “On the contrary, it’s my respect for them that gives me such surety in their abilities. Why are you risking the rain, if you are so worried?”
Vash smiled and gave a small acknowledging nod.
“It’s as you said. Sometimes one needs to get out of the airless home.”
Wolfwood gave his first small smile. “I’m afraid I said something rather different.”
Before Vash could inquire further, a rush of heavy rain began pouring down on them. Wolfwood hurriedly lifted his hood again, but it made little difference in the pelting storm.
“Follow me! There’s a small barn not far from here!” Vash called, pointing the way.
It took only a few minutes to reach the small barn, but in that time they both became soaked through. Vash jumped down from his horse and tied him up, as well as Wolfwood’s.
“We’ll have to wait for this to settle,” Vash said peering up at the clouds. “The sky is pretty dark, it may be awhile.”
At a rustle, he looked over to find Wolfwood had settled down on a hay bale that sat against the barn wall. He had already removed his cloak and was shrugging off his outer jacket, leaving him in a damp, white shirt that flowed freely.
“Um,” Vash swallowed heavily.
Wolfwood looked up from folding his clothing at the sound and raised his eyebrows.
“Surely you don’t expect me to sit here in wet clothes for the sake of propriety? I trust you can hold yourself from anything untoward despite the appeal of my exposed wrist.”
He said it like a joke but Vash feared it hit a little too close to home. The wet shirt exposed Wolfwood’s dark skin beneath it, sticking to the skin there at every curve. His chest was flush where the shirt tie had loosened, and he’d rolled up the sleeves to expose thick forearms covered in dark hair.
Vash shook himself.
“Of course,” Vash said, assuredly, coming to sit next to him at an appropriate distance away and removing his own soaked cloak before tossing it to the side. Wolfwood made a noise.
“The care expected of a proper second son.”
It was Vash’s turn to raise an eyebrow.
“If it can’t handle being thrown onto some hay then it isn’t worth the trouble to keep it.”
“If you weren’t certain you’d get a second, it’s worth to keep regardless.” Wolfwood answered, the same dry tone of the ball contrasting his relaxed sprawl. Perhaps the entire night had not been a mere performance of an eligible bachelor.
Vash felt his face soften.
“True,” He said, looking up and down Wolfwood quickly, purely in curiosity and not appreciation. “Are you in need of a second cloak, Mr. Wolfwood?”
Wolfwood turned to him with a glare.
“I need nothing from you, Mr. Vash, except your silence as we wait for this rain to pass.”
Vash leant against the barn wall and rubbed his temple. He would like to have a single conversation with Wolfwood where he didn’t offend him in some way.
He tried a few times more to make idle conversation as the rain continued, but Wolfwood’s answers were short, if he gave any at all. Vash found himself slightly relieved when one of his brother’s men came around with a cab, sent for Vash after he hadn’t met Knives for lunch. Perhaps staying with Knives for the summer had its advantages after all.
As he settled in beside Wolfwood, wet clothes by their feet, he felt a sprinkle of dread down his spine as Wolfwood sneezed.
——
“He’ll be fine, sirs, just the flu brought on by the length of time in the rain. Feed him well and he should be recovered in a few days.”
“Thank you, doctor.” Knives said, excusing him and sitting at his favorite arm chair. Vash was lying on a chaise, arm thrown over his forehead like a fainting lady. “I’ll send word to Chapel that he is here and not well enough to return home.”
When there was no response, he continued.
“You happened upon him in the field, you say?” Knives asked, moving to pour Vash some tea.
“Yes, he was riding,” Vash answered, mumbling into his arm.
“Hmm,” Knives sipped quietly for a moment. “It’s not proper, two unmarried people alone like that. If he claims-“
“He won’t,” Vash said, firmly, pushing himself to sit up and reaching for his tea. “He hates me. He would never do something that would necessitate being with me any longer than he has to, and I dare say marriage would be included.”
“You sound disappointed by that,” Knives stated and Vash spit out his tea.
“I- most certainly am not! I don’t even- I barely even know the man!” Vash answered.
They sat in silence a few moments.
“And I’ve always said I’d never marry, you know that! Let alone a man that can’t stand me!”
There were a couple more minutes of quiet.
“I’m going to retire,” Vash said, setting his cup down with as much force as one can with fine china and leaving for his room.
——
Vash had been tossing in his bed for hours, unable to rest his mind. He knew Wolfwood would not disparage him, would not resign himself to a life with Vash no matter how desperate the situation, so why did he feel so sick at the thought of Wolfwood rejecting him. Perhaps he, too, had caught something in the rain.
Unable to settle, he lit a candle and crept out of his room. Knives had a small library he could peruse for a novel. Maybe some light reading would lull him to bed.
However, upon entering the library, his heart almost leapt out of his chest in fright.
“Ah!” He yelled, waving the candle in front of him at the dark figure standing in front of a bookshelf.
“Are you quite well?” Wolfwood hissed at him, standing in sleep clothes with a book in his hand.
“Wolfwood!” Vash said, lowering the candle and rubbing a hand on his chest to soothe his beating heart. “What are you doing up? You should be resting.”
“All I’ve done is rest for ages,” Wolfwood scoffed. “If I rest any longer I’ll cease being flesh and bone and become another linen in the beast of blankets you’ve afforded me.”
“Well, apologies for trying to keep you in comfort,” Vash snapped, setting the candle on the small desk next to Wolfwood. “God knows you don’t appreciate that!”
“And what do you mean by that?” Wolfwood said, snapping the book in his hand closed and returning it to the shelf.
“As if you do not know.”
“Enlighten me.”
“Just that any attempt at kindness you meet with disdain. Any attempt at levity, you mock. So, I am not surprised to find that attempts at care are an irritant to you,” Vash answered, feeling flush with anger. He stood next to Wolfwood in his own sleeping attire, exhausted and irritated and still not knowing why. He wasn’t in the mood for Wolfwood’s ire.
“Oh? This is your impression of me?” Wolfwood asked.
“It is,” Vash said.
“Then allow me to respond in kind,” Wolfwood continued, stepping towards Vash until they were flush. “You are distracted and preoccupied, despite every consideration to engage you. You trifle with the feelings of every eligible individual in this ton, to the point that your own brother admits that a dance with you is comparable to a debut. And you flaunt your wealth and social standing as if it is something you have in any way earned.“
Vash felt a cold fury in the pit of his stomach at this low assumption of his person. How could someone he had met only twice have such hatred for him, or the him that they have conceived in his stead? At the same time- there was something broiling, turning and thrashing in his chest that longed to grab at Wolfwood’s hips and pull him closer. He wanted to bite down on the slope of Wolfwood’s cheek until he cried out, until he had to push Vash away and held him down to do the same. The feelings were contradictory and the desire impossible, and he wasn’t sure his body could contain any of it.
“You-“ Vash swallowed heavily. For a moment he couldn’t continue, he could only feel Wolfwood’s breath against his face. He could only watch as Wolfwood’s eyes flickered, moving around Vash’s face from his eyes to- Vash wasn’t sure, but he knew his own gaze was hungrily taking Wolfwood in just the same. “You are saved from any retribution from me only due to your condition-“ He ignored Wolfwood’s huff of indignation. “When your constitution is improved I demand you leave at once.”
“You need not wait that long. I shall take my leave in the morning.” Wolfwood answered, firm, but Vash swore he lingered, just a second, before he turned and left the room.
Vash was left in the flickering light of the dying candle and the sick feeling in his stomach that things were terribly wrong.
——
Vash had spent as long as he could declining invitations. He was not prepared to see Wolfwood or, heaven forbid, make polite conversation with him, if the requirement should arise. However, Knives had finally insisted, stating Vash was treading the thin line of bad manners, that he attend an engagement luncheon for some newly minted pair.
He was chatting amicably with Milly and Meryl beside the punch bowl when he saw him.
Wolfwood looked much better than the last time he saw him, sickly and vexed. He was actually smiling, talking to a tall man under a shady tree. Vash determinedly stifled the irritation that crept upon him, seeing Wolfwood speak easily with someone else.
“Who has captured your attention, Mr. Vash?” Milly asked, sunnily.
“No one,” Vash answered quickly. “Nothing- what do you suppose they’ve put in this punch to make it that color? I dare say-“
“It certainly can’t be Mr. Cole, he’s dry as anything,” Meryl interrupted, standing on her tiptoes to look across the crowd. “Oh, is it Mr. Wolfwood?”
“No.” Vash answered, swiftly, hoping that would settle the matter, but they saw straight through him.
“Oh, he is handsome, Mr. Vash. Have you spoken with him?”
“Spoken with him, I should say so. They danced together Mr. Wolfwood’s first night in ton.”
“Mr. Vash! And now to catch you looking!” Milly smiled. “Do you wish to speak with him?”
“No! No, I don’t-“
“Mr. Wolfwood!” Meryl called across the crowd, uncaring of the disapproving looks from a few mamas. “Mr. Wolfwood, could I bother you for a moment?”
Wolfwood took a moment to excuse himself from his conversation before joining their small group.
“Ladies, sir,” He bowed, not looking at Vash, but smiling warmly at Milly and Meryl. “How are you?”
“Quite fine,” Milly answered. She was unsubtly looking between the two men and grinning. “The weather is nice, don’t you think so, Mr. Wolfwood?”
Vash gulped, keeping his eyes on Wolfwood as he glanced his way before quickly looking elsewhere.
“Quite fine.”
“We called you over,” Meryl continued, “as we wish to walk through the garden but are, sadly, not numbered for it. Would you mind terribly to join us, to couple the group?”
“Ah, well,” Wolfwood paused. “I’m sure Mr. Vash would not care to have two fine women on his arm for the trip.”
Vash felt his face flush, from anger or embarrassment or the heat, he wasn’t sure, but Meryl laughed.
“Vash? Oh, I can’t think of a single event Vash would prefer to have a woman on his arm, let alone two, can you, Milly?” She giggled, tucking her arm through Milly’s and walking the group towards the tall flowers that began the elaborate maze of the garden.
“Oh, no! Mr. Vash has been very open about his disinterest in anyone of the ton since he came of age! So thoughtful of him, to make his intentions clear.” Milly agreed.
The women walked ahead, talking amongst themselves as Wolfwood and Vash awkwardly trailed behind them. Milly was really quite tall, and her strides long, so it took some focus to keep pace.
“I, um,” Vash cleared his throat. “I hope you are feeling well, Mr. Wolfwood.”
“Yes, uh, much improved, thank you.” Wolfwood answered.
They walked in silence for a moment.
“The garden is very pretty,” Wolfwood said, suddenly, startling Vash.
“Uh, yes. Yes, it’s actually one of the more diverse gardens in the ton. Ms. Terrell allowed me to inventory the fauna one summer.”
“Really?” Wolfwood asked, eyebrows raised.
“Yes. Although,” Vash winced. “I believe she thought it would lead to a proposal for one of her brood. Thankfully, none of them were interested in me after I came into the drawing room covered in leaves and bugs.”
“I wasn’t aware inventorying required getting so down in the dirt.”
“It doesn’t. It was part of the deterrent scheme,” Vash allowed himself a small smile. There was a small pause in conversation as they continued their walk and Vash noticed that they had lost the girls entirely in their slow perusal of the plants.
“Vash,” Wolfwood started, sudden again. He made an aggravated noise before he grabbed Vash’s elbow and led him to a small alcove in the pathway, vines climbing up the lattices that made up the perimeter.
“Wha-? Wolfwood!” Vash said, as Wolfwood dragged him.
“Vash, you must allow me to apologize.”
There had been a great many startling things these past few moments, but this must have been the most.
“Wolfwood-“
“No, I- I allowed my initial perception upon our first meeting to color all of our interactions together. And this is not just due to Milly and Meryl’s statements this afternoon, although I appreciate your attempts to foster good will-“
“Oh, that wasn’t my-“
“I have been informed by a great many people these past few weeks of your good qualities. I fear I have cost myself the opportunity to make a good friend and I- hope you will accept my apology for my rash judgement.”
Vash was again of conflicting feelings. On the one hand, he was elated to make peace with Wolfwood, who he genuinely did wish to have good relations with. On the other, friendship was not the conclusion he had drawn from the aching, longing feelings in his heart the past few weeks.
“Wolfwood, you must, in turn, allow me to apologize for the way I acted upon our introduction. I was- greatly distracted and ungracious. And if I had apologized sooner you would not have had reason to, rightly, question my character.”
Without thinking, he lifted his hand to rest on the hand Wolfwood still kept on the fold of his elbow. They both startled at the touch of skin-to-skin. Vash felt the warmth of Wolfwood’s bare hand, felt the small shift of muscle beneath his fingertips. He glanced down to commit the image of their hands on top of each other to memory before looking back to Wolfwood’s face. When their eyes met again, Wolfwood cleared his throat and stepped back hurriedly.
“Of course, I accept your apology, Vash.”
“And I, yours. Although I do insist it’s not necessary,” Vash said, bending his arm behind his back to flex the hand that had touched Wolfwood’s. He wished he could keep that feeling forever.
“It is, if we are to start anew. And,” Wolfwood looked down at his feet, seemingly shy for the first time Vash had known him. “I’d very much like to have a fresh start with you, Vash.”
“Then, we shall,” Vash grinned. “Please turn around.”
Wolfwood made a questioning noise, but, at Vash’s continued insistence, he turned. Vash shook himself into character before tapping Wolfwood in the shoulder. Wolfwood turned to face him with a bemused expression.
“Pardon the interruption, but I noticed you’re new to ton and I have yet to make your acquaintance. Vash Saverem.” Vash bowed formally as low as he could.
“Nice to meet you, Mr. Vash,” Wolfwood bowed in return, more reserved. “Nicholas D. Wolfwood. You are correct, I am newly arrived.“
“How are you finding the countryside?”
“I find it has many unique people the likes of which I couldn’t have ever imagined,” Wolfwood paused and it felt like his gaze became, somehow, heavier. “And the scenery is much improved.”
Vash found himself floundering for a response, coughing slightly to cover it. He watched Wolfwood turn out of the alcove to continue their walk and trailed after him, dazedly, before Wolfwood saved him.
“This is truly a spectacular garden; I was just admiring these lovely flowers.”
At the familiar topic, Vash shook himself from his stupor.
“Ah, yes! You know those in particular have any amazing history! Have you ever heard of the tulip mania in Holland? It’s quite interesting, actually…”
——
After that, Vash and Wolfwood became quite companionable. They rode their horses together in the early mornings when only the birds were awake. Vash had Wolfwood over for clay shooting, and spent afternoons complimenting Wolfwood’s skill. They chatted frequently at various parties and dinners, drawing the eye of curious onlookers. While Vash Saverem was known for his easy smile, no one had ever seen him laugh in the same manner Mr. Wolfwood was able to draw out of him.
As the summer came to a close and their friendship grew roots, Vash felt the warm regard in his chest blossom to love. Wolfwood shared small truths of his childhood, from his small stint as a paper boy to his military service. He did not hide his tribulations, but did not linger on them either. Vash admired Wolfwood’s determination to overcome, both then and now. He was entranced by Wolfwood’s easy grace while dancing, his quick wit in conversation, his shameless cheating at cards. Vash nearly swooned one day while watching Wolfwood easily help the staff fix a broken wheel. Seeing him purposefully lose a hoop race, to the glee and mockery of the many ton children, had caused his heart to nearly beat out of his chest.
Yes, Vash knew that he loved Wolfwood in a way that was all-encompassing and unchangeable. And, though they never mentioned it explicitly, he hoped his regard for Wolfwood was returned, as there had been no word of other marked interest he could have been entertaining amongst the gossipy ton.
All this which emboldened Vash to his plan for that evening, stepping into the grand ballroom of yet another party. He paced himself, moving from conversation to conversation, always keeping a side eye on Wolfwood’s own movement. He was resplendent, the jewel tones of the party complimenting his complexion and his acknowledging smile when his eyes met Vash lighting a fire within him. Finally, Vash felt enough time had passed and enough drink consumed for them to be able to sneak away without notice. He excused himself from his small circle, caught Wolfwood’s eye, and gestured to a side door.
Vash lingered in the shadow of the doorway for a few minutes until Wolfwood walked through. He reached out to wrap a hand around Wolfwood’s arm and pulled him gently to the side.
“Wha- Vash!” Wolfwood laughed, tripping slightly in the darkened, unfamiliar path. “This is most untoward! Where are you taking me?”
Vash stayed silent as he led him to a bench, an arch overhead full of small blossoms and green vines. He released Wolfwood’s arm as he sat down, patting the space beside him. Wolfwood arched a brow.
“You are acting very mysterious, Vash,” Wolfwood said, sitting down. The bench was small enough they were forced to brush shoulders, a key part of his plan. “I’ve not heard you so quiet for so long in all of our acquaintance.”
Vash smiled and reached out for Wolfwood’s hand. It was only the second time they had touched outside of a dance, despite months spent together, and the thrill of it had not worn off, if it ever would. Vash highly expected it would not.
“It is precisely on the matter of our acquaintance I wish to speak,” Vash said, his thumb brushing along the knuckle of Wolfwood’s middle finger distracting him from the way the muscles tensed beneath his palm.
“Vash-“ Wolfwood started, his voice at an odd pitch.
“No, no, please. Let me say this. I fear I’ve got the whole thing so aligned in my head a word out of order might make me forget it entirely,” Vash laughed. “Wolfwood, I-“
“I will not,” Wolfwood said, pulling his hand out of Vash’s and standing abruptly.
Vash was adrift, frozen in the position he was sitting in, curled towards Wolfwood’s seat despite it having been vacated.
“I-“ He shook himself, turning to face Wolfwood, who was pacing in a quick line back and forth and running his hand through his hair. Vash’s heart turned velvet at the sight of his forehead before the fringe covered it again and he was able to focus. “You don’t even know what I was going to say!” he said, exasperated.
“I do!” Wolfwood answered, stopping in his tracks to glare at Vash. “You are so obvious in your intentions. You hide nothing, it’s horrible.”
“I have a ton of people who know little, if anything, about my intentions who beg to differ,” Vash said, scoffing.
Vash stood from the bench and attempted to step towards Wolfwood, who matched him step-for-step backwards to maintain their distance.
“Oh, for heaven’s- you are being ridiculous! Will you marry me or not?” Vash asked, his voice tender and annoyed in a way he’d thought nothing could be until Wolfwood.
“Not, I said!” Wolfwood said, sharply, before turning and stalking away.
Vash flailed a moment, mourning the loss of his picturesque proposal, before following.
“And why not?” He yelled, ignoring the small part of him concerned with decorum. He vaguely saw a few staff look their way from the front of the house.
Without slowing, Wolfwood turned his face back to look at him incredulously.
“You cannot ask why someone won’t marry you,” he responded.
“I can if their response makes no sense,” Vash said assuredly, quickening his steps to be able to walk beside Wolfwood rather than chase after him.
“Oh, you- pompous! Over confident- jackass!” Wolfwood yelled, finally stopping in front of the valet. “My carriage, please!” He turned back to Vash. “Not everything is about you! And you are not entitled to every reason that something isn’t!”
Vash searched Wolfwood’s face, a tender warmth inside him. Someday their children would hear about this horrendous proposal.
“You are trying to anger me, so that I’m distracted, but it won’t work,” Vash said, over the sound of wooden wheels on stone. “Do you know why?”
Wolfwood huffed, looking past him to his carriage as it stopped in front of them. As the driver opened the door, Vash held out his hand to support Wolfwood as he stepped in. He held on as Wolfwood sat in his seat and turned to look down at Vash.
“Because I love you,” Vash answered, lifting himself into the carriage, shutting the door, and tapping the top to get them moving before Wolfwood could fully open his mouth in shock.
“You-! You cannot be in here with me! Alone! You are going to-“ Wolfwood yelled, pushing at Vash until he sat on the other side of the carriage. Vash stared at him seriously, leaning forward on the bench.
“Me? And what of you?”
“Oh, who cares about-“
“I care,” Vash answered. “I have cared, from the moment I saw you. About how you feel and how you think. I haven’t stopped thinking about you, not even once, since that very first night. By the time you had stomped on my foot, I was in love with you.”
Wolfwood stared at him for a moment, motionless and wide eyed, before shaking his head.
“You will forget me. You- no, Vash, listen,” He spoke over Vash’s sound of denial and reached forward to hold the side of his face in his hand. “And when the winter comes I’m going to go back to the city and you will regret even thinking of asking me to do this.”
Vash was patient, silent, as Wolfwood spoke, as he’d asked, but now he groaned in frustration.
“No matter where you go, no matter where you are, it will not be far enough!” He paused to breathe. Wolfwood was shock still. “You are in every dream I have, every night and in every future. I long for you, I ache for you, yes, but I miss you more. Your voice, your laugh, your opinions. There is nothing of you that I do not know and love and nothing you could tell me, nothing you could have done or will do, that will keep me from that love. If you will have me, I swear I will live every day to make you happy.”
Wolfwood’s breathing was heavy, shaky. His thumb was rubbing absently at Vash’s cheek but his eyes were distant. Vash hated it.
“Vash-“ He swallowed. “There’s- my life is more complicated than you think it is. Chapel- he’s. He’s not a good man. And I’m not either. If you knew, you could never-“
“Have you any other objection than your belief that I am unaware of your circumstances?”
Wolfwood startled, his eyes returned to Vash’s, and there was want there, a desire to dream, to hope. Vash would never let that hope go unanswered again. When Wolfwood said nothing, Vash continued.
“Knives has told me of Chapel’s misdeeds, and of his mission for you. I am indifferent, it will be resolved either way. It is you that I concern myself with, your heart that I covet. If you tell me for yourself of your indifference, your lack of love for me, one word from you now will silence me forever.”
His words exhausted, Vash rested, waiting. They watched each other for a moment, and Vash knew his face gave away his every emotion, his every hope and fear. But when Wolfwood’s face hardened, determined, and his lips pressed together firmly, speechless, Vash released the heat of his desire and let himself move forward until his lips captured Wolfwood’s.
He first registered the sound, Wolfwood’s alarmed grunt against his lips, and he nearly pulled away until he felt Wolfwood’s hand, still on his face, drag him forward. Then, it was all touch. Wolfwood’s nose against his, awkward and squished. Their lips, chapped from the wind and dry from arguing, slotting together.
The carriage hit a bump and it jostled their delicate balance, Vash crashing forward and their mouths gasping together. Wolfwood’s free hand came around to Vash’s side and yanked him forward just as Vash reached up to wrap his arms around Wolfwood’s neck. They were half sitting, half lying on one bench seat and the well of the carriage, their breaths colliding.
Wolfwood whispered Vash’s name against his mouth and everything around him caught fire. Vash licked forward, wishing to taste his name from that mouth. He let his hands wander, touching all the places he’d brushed with his eyes previously. Wolfwood’s thighs were as strong as they looked, his chest just as soft. The hard length of him pressed against Vash’s hip, before this moment unknown to him by sight but now felt.
Wolfwood’s hips hitched quickly, a stifled groan pressed into Vash’s nape, before Vash reached his hands between them and undid the button of his trousers.
“Vash, I don’t-“ Wolfwood started, Vash shushing him with his mouth, kissing him silent. He slid his hand through the fabric, felt the soft skin there, molten hot, and keened. He tore his mouth away to look down and watch his palm slide along the length of him, saw his pretty flush. Vash hadn’t ever had one in his hands like this, had never felt so close to someone as he did now, with Wolfwood pressing against him, tender and wanting in his arms.
“Is it like this?” He asked, moving faster, gripping harder. His voice sounded like it was miles away, somewhere separate from him, while his body felt achingly present, warm and pressed against the seat. “I like it like this, quick. Do you like that? Do you know?”
“I-“ Wolfwood choked, swallowed, tried again. “I do know. I- I do like- Vash-“
Vash found he liked it when Wolfwood couldn’t talk for pleasure. When he got to watch him struggle to kiss him, Vash’s eyes open slightly to peek. He found what he liked best was the wet slide of Wolfwood’s lips against the edge of his mouth as he cried out with his climax, an echoing slickness between his fingers.
“Vash, Vash…” Wolfwood whispered into the slope of his jaw. It caused a whispering wave of pleasure down Vash’s spine, and he realized suddenly that he was achingly hot between his legs.
He used his clean hand to hurriedly undo his own trousers, Wolfwood pulling back from his face at the jostling. He watched, confused, as Vash slipped his wet hand beneath his clothes and Vash got to watch the spark of realization and overwhelming flame of desire engulf his eyes.
The first sticky touch to his clit was like a shot of whiskey, a full body sensation. For Wolfwood’s own spend to ease the way, for his pleasure to be used for Vash’s- the knowledge alone nearly undid him.
“Vash, let me,” Wolfwood shifted his weight to his knees, tucked a hand to either side of Vash’s trousers and tugged them down to his lower thigh, exposing Vash to the cool air and he gasped a little.
“Oh, Vash,” Wolfwood crooned, hands hovering around him. Vash could feel the heat of his palms graze his skin. “Vash, how can I help you? Hmm?” He leaned forward again to mouth along Vash’s neck.
“That-“ Vash gasped, moved his fingers harder against himself, twitched at the breath and nips along his throat. “That-“
Wolfwood, spent and soft, but so warm, so near, started to thrust against him. The bare skin of their hips moved together around the wet mess of Vash’s hand and Vash came, loudly and desperately, in the hold of Wolfwood’s arms.
When Vash settled, Wolfwood was kissing him, seemingly uncaring of his lax mouth. He groaned into Vash’s mouth once his conscious returned enough for movement, lips pressing forward to taste again, taste more.
They kissed and kissed, thoughtless to the mess and uncaring of their dishevelment, until there were two thumps from the top of the carriage. The sound startled them apart, eyes wide. For a moment, they were paralyzed, before Vash began to giggle at the impossibility of the situation they found themselves in: the pure, unsalvageable chaos of it. Wolfwood, undoubtedly feeling the same euphoria of their predicament, laughed with him, pressing his smile to Vash’s collarbone.
“Wolfwood,” Vash said, once he could finally settle. He reached for Wolfwood’s face, pulling it up to look him in the eyes, see that laugh for himself. “Wolfwood, will you please marry me?”
Wolfwood’s smile was blinding.
——
“So, to summarize,” Knives began. “Without asking for his guardian’s blessing, nor that of your brother, who maintains your investments and finances, you asked this man, whom you were not in nor had you requested any arranged courtship with, to marry you and, when he declined, you proceeded to chase him, intrude upon his carriage, and then ruin him in said carriage at a level of such volume and intensity that the entirety of my staff on duty heard and feel honor bound to attest to, if either his guardian or myself wish to deny the validity of said ruination.”
Vash thought back through the entire evening and could find nothing in his brother’s summary that had been missed.
“That is correct,” he said, biting into a tart.
“And what, pray tell, inspired you to take on this route, rather than the traditional method?”
“I care not for Chapel, nor do you, nor does Wolfwood. Why consider his opinion in a partnership he has no right to?” Vash said, brushing crumbs from his vest.
Knives hummed his agreement. “Yet, you forget that Chapel will declare he has some right, considering Wolfwood is his ward, and, as we discussed, Wolfwood’s sole reason for being here this summer was for him to be wed and provide security to Chapel.”
“That’s why you will handle Chapel,” Vash said, simply, leaning back on his usual chaise now that he was done eating.
Knives raised an eyebrow as Vash threw a hand over his eyes.
“I do not wish to know any further. As long as Chapel is gone from Wolfwood’s life, I am content.”
Knives worked to keep the lifting of the side of his mouth down.
“I can see that.”
“You cannot.”
“I can sense it.”
Knives hummed again.
——
It was a balmy night for the fall, and the full moon reflecting off the lake made the night seem brighter. The moon reflecting sweetly in Wolfwood’s eyes made the night radiant. He was wearing Vash’s robe, leaning against him as they looked over the grounds. Vash was wrapped in their blanket, pulled from the bed.
“It is a fine night, is it not, my dear?” Vash asked, kissing Wolfwood’s temple.
“Very fine. Although, i wish you wouldn’t call me ‘my dear.’”
Vash could envision the scrunch of Wolfwood’s nose perfectly and hid his smile in his hair.
“Alright. Well, what endearments am i allowed?”
“Hmm, well,” Wolfwood said, leaning up to face Vash. He reached a hand to gently lace through Vash’s hair as he spoke. “I suppose, darling for everyday, my love for Sundays, and, hmm… goddess divine, but only for very special occasions.” His smile was as bright as the stars.
Vash turned his head to kiss his palm, closing his eyes for a moment before meeting Wolfwood’s gaze again.
“And what shall I call you when I’m cross?”
“Why would you ever be cross with me?” Wolfwood asked, incredulous. “No, you don’t need an endearment for that. However, you do need something for when you are completely, perfectly, incandescently happy. Let me think…”
Vash watched him, smiling softly, as he thought.
“I suppose, at those times, you will call me yours.”
Vash cheeks ached with his smile, in love and overcome with it. He leant forward until his lips brushed Wolfwood’s forehead.
“Mine,” he whispered.
His lips brushed his nose.
“Mine.”
His lips brushed Wolfwood’s lips.
“Mine.”