Archive of Our Own ^beta

"Come on, just a little further." 

Vash encouraged, limping along with Wolfwood's arm strung over his shoulders, trying desperately to ignore the soft, horrifyingly steady sound of blood dripping onto the creaky floorboards. 

They should have known better than to get caught up in a fight in a near-abandoned town over some petty remarks and people's chase for the bounty on Vash's head. Half the time it was about that damned bounty, and he could do nothing to help it, usually he understood their desperation for an amount of money that would have the next few generations of their family set. 

Usually, he did- but somehow today he couldn't find it within himself to feel sorry for them, not when this had just happened. Not when Wolfwood was injured, and the best Vash could do was haul him into what he assumed was an inn that'd been left desolate long ago- judging by the thick coat of dust they stirred up on every piece of furniture they bumped into. 

Wolfwood groaned, clutching at his side, his head lolling around in every direction as Vash continued to hoist him up. 

"Here, here-." 

Vash finally breathed, and before he could acknowledge it, Wolfwood was lying on the floor, back propped against a wall. 

Vash's hands worked quickly against him, peeling back his black jacket to reveal the button-up that was more crimson than grey now. He seemed to handle the situation in a similar way to when he used complex control panels- hands quick and steady, laser-focused on the task before him. 

When Vash pressed down on his wound to slow the bleeding, Wolfwood saw white. He drew in a sharp breath, throat tightening around it, making him emit an unceremonious whine of pain. He felt his muscles tighten, then go slack again when the shock left. 

“Shit, Spikey.”

"Sorry, sorry, just give me a second."

He heard Vash pant, words so rushed they ran into one another.

Wolfwood's blood stained the golden strands of his hair when he absentmindedly ran a hand through it amidst a frantic search for what to do next. Vash himself didn’t seem to notice- by contrast, Wolfwood couldn’t seem to take his eyes off him. There was something oddly calming- beautiful - about being saved by someone who looked like his idea of an angel. 

Despite his frenzied looking around the room, racking his brain for ideas, Vash fell short of anything he could use to dam the blood that only continued to leak through the cracks between his fingers. He’d thrown his bag somewhere in their rush to get away- though the more he thought about it, there wasn’t anything in there that could help, either. 

“It’s okay, we’ll figure it out… I’ll work something out.”

Taking his hand off the wound for a moment, Vash began to unbutton the other's shirt, staining each one as he went-  until even that seemed to be taking too long with his shaking fingers. Instead, with one swift movement, he pulled both sides apart, buttons shooting off. He'd get him a new one after this was over, after he was safe. 

Having exposed the injury fully, Vash clambered to sit across Wolfwood’s hips, to better support himself and leverage his weight evenly when he bore down on it again- it travelled distressingly deep, he was mildly surprised not to be met with the sight of his entrails.  

Momentarily, he reached over, raising Wolfwood's glasses from his eyes, pushing them up into his hair which stuck up around them haphazardly. He breathed a sigh of relief when he was met with those familiar brown eyes. At least he was still awake. 

"Listen, Wolfwood, you need to talk to me." 

Vash urged, brows furrowing as his eyes shot back to the other's ribcage, blood coating the bronze skin along each high and low before trickling down his sides. He noticed a change in the way his chest moved, too, how his breaths seemed more like hiccups than steady in-and-out movements. 

"Talk 'bout what?" 

Wolfwood managed, choking on his exhale. 

Again, Vash pressed his right hand to the wound, the metallic smell seeping into the skin of his fingertips. He grit his teeth when Wolfwood flinched once again, and as much as he didn't want to, he only pressed down harder. 

"Home, the orphanage, tell me about them." 

Vash improvised, head on a pivot as he still desperately searched for something, anything that could be of help here. Like a curse had been placed on them, he continued to come up short, while Wolfwood's chest slowly began to feel a little colder under his hand. 

"Hopeland? God-."

Wolfwood coughed, resting his head back against the wall, eyes falling closed for a moment. 

"Keep your eyes open."

He felt Vash shake him a little, chipper voice now uncertain and small. He never usually let things get to him like this- sure, he got serious when they were in a tough spot, but it was new to hear this type of inflexion in Vash's voice. That, paired with the growing dizziness and warmth that Wolfwood began to feel, made him realise just how badly this may end for him.

Forcing his eyes open again, Wolfwood looked down to his chest- to Vash. He was backlit- daylight seeping in through the door they’d just come through, framing him with the glow of the desert sun. It was almost like a halo, when his vision blurred between blinks. It was a pity, really, that Wolfwood was only appreciating how pleasant he was to look at now. 

"I didn't get to stay there all that long, but they-" He hissed as Vash adjusted his hand. "-they were all good people, nice kids." 

"I'm sure they were, carry on."

Vash finally accepted their fate- giving up on the idea of finding a saving grace somewhere in the room, instead, he focused all his attention on what he could do, which wasn't much else than what he had been doing already- leaning all his weight into his hand and praying the bleeding would subside. 

"I didn't- stay long."

Wolfwood repeated, trembling a little with each breath, the added weight of Vash's attempt to save him making it even harder.

"They- I... then they took me, those fuckin' guys."

He found himself laughing a little, fighting the urge to lean his head back and let the darkness finally swallow him, to get some rest after all this time. He figured he’d done enough to deserve it- it wouldn’t be by God’s side, but anywhere seemed better than here, and a merciful creator would send him someplace nice. 

"They fucked me up real bad, spikey."

He slurred, the comment encompassing the past and present, depending on which one of them you asked. 

Vash was silent, his expression hardened, mechanical hand clutching onto Wolfwood's jacket which lay at his side. Despite the silence, Wolfwood could read him well- he was lost for ideas (though he clearly had been for a while), for one, but all the same, there was something in his eyes that was begging for Wolfwood not to die. Not while he was watching, holding him- not while he literally slipped through his fingers. Vash wasn’t selfish, though, he wouldn’t beg him not to go like most people, despite the story the rest of him told. 

Wolfwood questioned whether his secrets were worth dying for- if telling Vash about the vials in his jacket pocket was worth the repercussions, the possible hatred, the future pain that he could bring upon himself. His head spun. He didn't want Vash to know about him- not the real him, the genetically enhanced amalgamation that he was, the drugs he relied on in moments like these. Wolfwood didn't want Vash to know, because knowing meant vulnerability, it meant sharing more when he was better, it meant having to explain why they'd found each other in the first place. Telling him meant Vash would likely find out about why he'd kept so close to him, what his mission was- Wolfwood couldn't even forgive himself for it, he wasn’t wrapped up in himself enough to ask Vash to.

Yet, when he looked at him and, through unclear vision, noticed the tension in his shoulders, the jaw locked tight, scrunched eyebrows and eyes glossed over with premature grief, Wolfwood decided he'd rather be hated as the man he is than loved as someone he'd never been. 

"Vash."

He started- the blonde leaned in to hear him, expression full of sorrow and helplessness. 

"Don't you dare say goodbye."

Vash's voice shook as he fought back tears- one of his only friends- more than that- and he still hadn’t been enough to save him. Though when was the humanoid typhoon ever a saviour, really? 

"No-." 

Wolfwood groaned, struggling to catch a good breath now, whispering his words. 

"Jacket pocket… vials."

He choked- those were the only instructions he could manage, and even as he heard Vash mutter a rhetorical ‘what?’, he felt the pressure against his wound ease. It was all up to him now. He caught sight of his eyes briefly, their perfect blue- regardless of what happened, he was content with that. 

Vash scrambled to reach around each pocket of his jacket, inside and out, until he finally struck gold- a few vials filled with fluorescent blue liquid hidden in the pocket that would usually rest over Wolfwood’s heart. They were smaller than his pinky finger, with a little neck on one side to snap off. 

“Okay, okay, I found them- what now?”

Vash asked- no reply came. 

“Wolfwood?”

He straightened himself again, looking over only to realise Wolfwood’s eyes had fallen closed- he looked oddly peaceful, even more than when he slept. 

Vash felt the panic hit him, twisting its wicked hands around his neck.

“W- Nicholas? Hey- hey!”

He called out, quickly slipping an arm around his back, cradling him a little to pull him closer. He noticed the small noise of discomfort he made, and took it as his last shot. 

“Stay awake just a little longer, please, please. Don't do this to me, Nicholas.”

Despite his usual dexterity, Vash’s thumb trembled against the vial before it finally snapped open. Carefully, he brought a hand to Wolfwood’s pitifully dried and cracked lips, having thought about doing this for some time now, but God , not in a situation like this. With fingers still covered in drying blood, he pulled down on his chin gently, thumb resting against Wolfwood's bottom lip to leave his mouth slightly agape. He could just about see a fraction of his teeth- it left enough of a gap for him to tip the vial into his mouth- that was all he needed. 

Holding his breath, Vash waited until Wolfwood’s Adam's apple shifted, signalling he’d managed to swallow whatever drug he’d just fed him- not quite sure if he was even supposed to feed it to him. He sighed shakily, resting his forehead carefully against Wolfwood's own, hand slipping to the side of his face. 

"You'll be okay, right?" 

Vash whispered, uncertain of it himself. The ringing in his ears continued to be the only  response he was met with- he felt tears well in his eyes- Wolfwood's stillness made him want to vomit, it permeated him with the belief that he hadn’t been fast enough, that he was cupping the cheek of a dead man. Deciding seconds passed, Vash felt bile rise to the back of his throat. 

Wolfwood's breaths were shallow, Vash barely even felt them despite having pressed their heads together. His thumb stroked across the stubble on Wolfwood’s cheek, smearing dirt over his skin in doing so.

"You'll be okay."

He repeated, pressing one hand to Wolfwood's wound again, keeping the other on his face.

"Nicholas." 

The thick metallic scent of blood became harder to ignore now that Vash wasn’t in a stir– not that he cared, he wouldn't step away from Wolfwood for even a second, he’d let his clothes soak up all the blood they had to, his skin get irreversibly stained before someone could even try to pry him away. 

"You…  you…" 

Vash started, trying hard to breathe through the growing lump in his throat until it finally bested him, the tension in his shoulders breaking into a guttural sob. 

"Please say something." 

He choked, hanging his head low, his hand still firm on Wolfwood's abdomen, warm tears dripping onto the skin on his chest, clearing tiny rivers through the dirt. Quiet hiccups filled the small space between them. Vash felt himself tremble when he bit back sobs, teeth baring into his lip so hard he tasted metal. 

—

Wolfwood's head buzzed with static, waves of dizziness hitting him again and again- somewhere past the white noise, he swore he heard someone calling his name. He could taste the bitter familiarity of enhancement drugs on his tongue- Vash must have understood his barely conscious instructions, judging by the way he wasn't in excruciating pain any more, either. 

Thinking of Vash, the weight of him sitting across his waist was still there, the pressure of his hand on his abdomen, too. 

He finally cracked his eyes open again, senses coming back to him- though paradoxically, it wasn't anything to be happy about. 

"Nicholas… Nick, Nico, please. " 

Vash was before him, completely inconsolable, in a way he'd never seen him before. Tears and snot covered his face, one hand, he realised now, was resting on Wolfwood's cheek. He couldn’t have been out that long- last he remembered, Vash still held his usual scripted radiance about him. 

"Hm.? Spikey?" 

Wolfwood croaked, clearing his throat to rid himself of the hoarseness before he attempted to speak again. Vash raised his head so fast it narrowly avoided hitting him in the chin, crying out something that sounded vaguely like Wolfwood’s name again.

"Spikey, hey-" 

He found himself reaching out without truly meaning to, holding Vash by the sides of his shoulders, face panged with concern. 

"You didn't- you-." 

Vash sobbed, hand trembling against Wolfwood's face as he fought to piece together words. 

"You stopped responding- Nick, I thought you-"

Vash heaved, ugly sobs escaping him without restraint- the noises he made were almost animalistic, sheer terror of losing Nicholas tearing at his vocal cords without mercy. 

"Sp- Vash, it's okay, breathe."

Before he knew it himself, Wolfwood's hands found their way to Vash's face, thumbing over his cheeks gently in an effort to wipe the tears away as they came. He reached for his glasses, taking them off his face slowly, and tucked them into his pocket for safekeeping. 

For a moment he wished he hadn't, not when he could see Vash's expression fully now-how small his pupils had shrunk, how red his under eyes had already become. There was a pang of guilt in Wolfwood's chest- there was bound to be, when someone he loved was in such a state out of concern for him. 

"Hey, hey, shh." 

He reached for Vash’s hand, which was still being pressed into his bloodied skin with all the strength he could manage- granted, it wasn’t all that much with the state he was currently in. 

He lay his hand over Vash’s, trying to tug the fingers away from his abdomen carefully- when Vash noticed, he descended into even more of a panic. 

“No! No, what are you doing? You’re hurt , stop-.”

He pressed into Wolfwood’s chest harder, making him wince slightly- it felt more like someone putting pressure on a bruise now than anything, it was unpleasant nevertheless. 

“Trust me.”

Wolfwood tried to calm him, rubbing his thumb over the top of Vash’s hand, it failed to make him ease up in the slightest.

“I can’t- you- you’ll bleed out.”

Vash remained unconvinced, shaking his head, too beside himself to listen to Wolfwood- he was trapped in the fear, the weight of Wolfwood’s silent moment- his ears still rang as if it had never ended. 

Wolfwood sighed, touching at his chin gently, shifting him just enough for them to make eye contact. 

“Do you trust me?”

He asked, watching Vash’s expression soften just a little as he processed the question. As much as he didn’t want to, as convinced as he was that if he moved his hand it could mean the end of Nicholas, he choked out a reply.

“I-...I do.”

Wolfwood hummed softly in acknowledgement, trying again to pull Vash’s hand away from him- slowly, slowly he let up, unable to look until Wolfwood was already holding his hand an inch above his chest. When he finally got the courage to cast his eyes back to where he was expecting a wound pouring blood, he found nothing.

Before Vash even had a chance to question it, Wolfwood found himself sitting up, bringing his arms loosely around him, resting a calloused hand in his hair, moving his fingers a little to stroke it. He hummed, feeling Vash hesitate in slipping his arms around him, before finally breaking and gripping the back of his jacket, head buried against his shoulder- it felt like his skin buzzed against his resumed cries. 

"It’s okay, I’m okay. You did good." 

He reassured, one hand rubbing his back in small circles, feeling Vash’s chest hitch against his own with each breath he took. Wolfwood swayed them from side to side a little, finding himself cooing soft ‘shh’s between words. 

"I'm right 'ere, Spikey." 

He hummed, glancing over at Vash's mane of hair only to notice the bits of red scattered through it; he hoped this dingy town had at least some water supply left, for his sake. There was no need for the poor guy to carry a constant reminder of this near-miss. 

Vash continued to shake like a leaf against him despite his best attempts at words of comfort- having someone cry for him like this made Wolfwood a strange sort of uneasy. He was perfectly fine now, though he supposed Vash was having trouble processing that. He was conscious again, at the very least, yet the other was still sobbing as if he'd lost him. He wondered whether the possibility of that was actually this jarring to someone like Vash. 

Wolfwood’s perception of love and care had never really been clear- there were no set guidelines to follow, no 10 commandments or a rosary to recite, and that made it all the more confusing for him. He couldn’t quite wrap his head around why Vash was so distraught over someone like him- why he was deserving of tears from someone as good as the celestial being in his arms. He wasn’t going to ask, but the question circled his mind ceaselessly- why care for me?  

He didn’t mean it in a self-deprecating sense, either, he wasn’t on the lookout for pity and quickly strung-together compliments, it was a genuine case of curiosity and confusion. He’d never seen himself as someone capable of loving in this way- giving it and receiving it back, yet the looks him and Vash shared, the way their hands often lingered on one another, the smiles they only let each other see- all these things and more seemed to tell him otherwise. It defied everything he had believed about himself so far- then again, Vash seemed to have that effect on every part of his philosophy. 

With each stroke of Wolfwood’s hand through his hair, Vash slowly calmed, his breathing more rhythmic, the noises escaping him reminiscent of grumbles rather than cries. He felt heavy against him- which was good, at least he wasn’t all that tense anymore. 

“C’mon, ya big baby.”

Wolfwood teased, trying to cheer him up a little. He dropped his hands and hugged Vash a little tighter- or tried to, at least, before he flinched away like he’d been burned. 

“Eh? What’s wrong now, blondie?”

Wolfwood leaned back- Vash averted his gaze, face paler than usual, cheeks red from wiping them again and again. Subtly glowing blue marks made themselves known around the perimeter of his eyes, too, they seemed to fade away down his face, matching where his tear tracks had dried. It looked as if they were his tears, and if Wolfwood didn’t know any better, he would have tried to wipe them away. 

“Oh, nothing, you just caught me off-guard, haha.”

Vash murmured, rubbing at his forearm with his prosthetic one, the plastic smile on his face made Wolfowood all the more irked at his blatant lie.

“The hell do you mean off-guard? We were huggin’ already.” 

Vash shrugged, head still turned to the side, gazing at the floor as if it were going to break open and swallow him whole. His hand continued to massage his arm absentmindedly, and Wolfwood noticed the way he was bent over himself a little, too. 

“You’re hurtin’.”

Wolfwood, matter-of-fact, pointed it out.

“Hm?”

“Damn it, needle-noggin’, come ‘ere.”

Without another warning, he pulled Vash closer again by the wrist of the arm he kept rubbing at, pushing the sleeve up in one swift movement. Doing so revealed multiple gashes of varying severity- nothing life-threatening, though they weren’t papercuts either- bits of shrapnel were still stuck in a majority of them. 

Wolfwood looked at him- and Vash knew. Most people would have assumed he was angry from the near deadpan look he gave him- but Vash wasn’t most people- he noticed the subtle way the inner parts of his eyebrows pulled up while the corners of his mouth tugged down. It was strange how he could spot indications of softness in Wolfwood where no one else would. 

“You should’ve said something.” 

Wolfwood lectured him, lowering the sleeve of his signature red jacket back down before grabbing at its front. 

“Can I take this off?”

He asked, Vash hesitated. 

“I don’t want to scare you. I’m not a pretty sight to see under all this.”

Vash laughed, still that fake way that made Woflwood’s blood boil, as he gestured to his coat.

“The hell do y-”

“Scars. A lot of them.”

Vash caught Wolfwood’s eyes widening for a split second- he broke the tension by huffing through his nose and turning away from Vash for a moment to fumble through his jacket. He returned his attention to him once there was a lit cigarette wedged between his lips.

“After everythin’ you know I’ve seen, you seriously think some scars will scare me?”

Wolfwood raised an eyebrow, exhaling a cloud of smoke. Vash coughed, fanning it away from himself. 

“Well, it’s just… ladies have been off-put about it and…”

Vash sighed, dragging his hands down his face, the ache in various parts of his body and exhaustion from having cried the hardest he had in years making this conversation anything but easy. 

“I just wanted to warn you, I guess.”

Wolfwood rolled his eyes, stubbing the cigarette he’d finished already out on the ground beside them.

“Well, it’s a hell of a good thing I’m not a lady then, right?”

He smirked when the look on Vash’s face finally changed to something other than complete misery and disarray- he seemed lost for words, for once.

Without adding anything else, Wolfwood slipped the coat off Vash, who helped him a little in getting it over his scuffed-up prosthetic. He draped it across his lap, an effort to keep him warm while he fixed him up as much as he could. 

Vash hadn’t been exaggerating when he said a lot of scars riddled his body- ignoring the fresh wounds, there were probably a dozen on his real arm. Wolfwood could tell that wasn’t the most of it, either, from the way some on his shoulder ran under his shirt. He tried not to stare, though they were so intricately woven together he couldn’t help himself- Vash caught him out on it, naturally. 

“Freaky, right?”

He chuckled, uncomfortable smile glued to his face. Wolfwood took in one more scan on his arm before agate blue eyes met brown ones, burning with a new intensity. 

“You’re a real piece of art, spikey.”

There was a fondness that Vash sparsely got to experience in Wolfwood’s voice. He was struck into silence by the comment, sitting there with his mouth slightly agape while Wolfwood stretched over to reach for his bag, pulling it across the floor toward them.

The silence continued as he began working on his arm, washing the dirt away with quick splashes from a water canister, then wrapping it up in bandages they’d used, washed and used again about a dozen times already. It wasn’t much, but it was better than nothing, Vash found a sense of normalcy in cherishing even the small things. 

The way Wolfwood’s hands danced along his skin was fascinating- they were bigger than Vash’s own, more worn-out too- with the way his skin calloused on the insides of his palm and dried out around his nailbeds- still, the gentleness he manoeuvred them with was something Vash was unaccustomed to. 

"What did you… what do you mean?" 

"Hm?" 

"Like, a piece of art." 

Vash questioned, tilting his head to the side slightly, a rosy pink blush dusting over his face. 

Wolfwood sighed, rolling his eyes at the need to spell out his attempt at subtle affectionate comments. 

"Means you're nice to look at." 

He mumbled, focusing his attention wholly on Vash's arm, determined not to look him in the eyes right now. He wiped away the dirt between cuts with a damp cloth, careful not to irritate the already sensitive skin. 

His skin was a mosaic– between the fresh injuries, it changed tones constantly, scars overlapping scars. Some were raised, others flat, some had clearly needed stitches- like the X on his shoulder, that was one of the more interesting ones. 

Wolfwood wondered what stories hid behind them all- who he'd saved and who he'd lost in gaining them. He doubted Vash would ever tell him about it- certainly not them all, that seemed like far too much for anyone to remember. It would be like asking a spider for its reasoning behind every string in a cobweb. 

Wolfwood didn't want these to add to the growing library of unpleasant stories Vash had to keep to himself- so, he tried his hardest to get the wounds clean, bandaging them carefully in hopes they wouldn't scar, wrapping the spare gauze they had left snug against the worst of them. 

Not all that long later, Wolfwood was done patching up Vash's arm- he figured re-wrapping the Punisher, again and again, had given him an advantage in doing the same thing to injuries. 

"Alright, take your shirt off." 

He said, rather brashly, and Vash looked at him like a deer in headlights. 

"I- what for?" 

He laughed, rubbing at the nape of his neck as he did, trying to keep a smile on his face even though the way his eyebrows scrunched were a dead giveaway of the pain he was in. 

"You flinched when I hugged you, so obviously there's something wrong with your torso, too." 

Wolfwood rolled his eyes. 

"Don't act stupid with me, sunshine , I've got eyes y'know." 

He added, the nickname slipping off his tongue naturally, though with a hint of harshness to it. Vash drew a breath in through his teeth, narrowing his eyes. 

"It's honestly fine I-I'll do it myself or something." 

He rambled, so nervous at the mere idea of someone seeing how his body looked that he lost all sense of composure.

"I just don't like people seeing me, it's gross, thank you though, I really appreciate it, Wolfwood." 

"Hey, Spikey." 

Wolfwood snapped his fingers in front of his face, dragging Vash back out of his own head. 

"Doing this means I'll be less indebted to you for, y'know , saving my life today." 

"You're not-" 

" Yes , I am. This is how I was taught to live- an eye for an eye and all that."

Wolfwood sighed, reaching for another smoke, thumbing around in the small box before finally pulling a deformed cigarette– he stuck it between his lips without a second thought. 

"Let me do this for you, blondie." 

He just barely caught Vash's eyes as he spoke, the way they were filled with uncertainty despite their usual sparkle- the other darted them away again before he could take a better look. Vash closed his eyes for a moment, drawing a deep breath in through his nose and holding it before letting out a slow exhale. 

If anything, Vash was in the position of the person who should've been asking for help - yet here Wolfwood was, biting down on the filter of a cigarette in anticipation of whether Vash would allow himself to be helped, if he would break his habit of borderline self-harm just this once. Wolfwood couldn't seem to understand how he kept pouring from an empty cup without ever letting anyone close enough to help bring some of himself back. 

“Let someone else help you for once, you’ve done enough today.”

He grumbled, frustrated at the way Vash had a habit of refusing anything that may have made his life easier- how he wouldn’t eat as a punishment to himself, how even when Wolfwood could tell his arm was aching from the prosthetic having been attached too long he insisted he was fine, how he cried in his sleep and tried to laugh it off when Wolfwood woke him in the middle of the night. It was as if Vash had set up a restriction on relief for himself in any sort of way. He wished he’d let up on it already- if anyone deserved good things, it was Vash, yet he seemed to indulge in the worst instead. 

“I’m the reason you got hurt today, I don’t deserve your pity.”

“You’re an idiot if you think I do things out of pity.”

Wolfwood fought back, like waves hitting the shore - again and again and again- reaching out and hoping to finally pull Vash back into the tide- into a place where he could lay back and let the water carry him, if only for a moment.

"If I don't think someone deserves my help, they won't get it, and you do. Simple."

He ran a hand down Vash's arm gently, fingertips grazing the bandages and strips of medical tape they used as plasters. 

"C'mon, let's get it done so you can rest."

"I don't -" 

" Fine, so that we can rest." 

Wolfwood watched as Vash gave slowly, tiny cracks shifting his expression, uncertain, until it finally loosened. 

"So?" 

"I guess you're right, just don't say I didn't warn you." 

Vash sighed, taking another deep breath before slowly rolling his form-fitting, black shirt up. Wolfwood watched carefully, helping a little when it snagged against the wounds that came into view. 

Vash held the discarded shirt in his hands, fiddling with the material anxiously. Wolfwood's eyes wandered his chest for a moment- it was so bizarre. A metal plate over his right pec, scars and bits of bolts and wires that didn't quite look like they belonged on someone's body ran up and down his torso. It was like looking at a marble statue that had been mishandled and broken- imperfect, missing pieces, yet still oh-so-beautiful. 

Wolfwood caught himself staring, snapping himself out of it with a little shake. 

"Alright, let's get you feeling a lil better, hm blondie?"

He hummed, Vash nodded a little, still looking uncomfortable with his tattered body being exposed. Wolfwood sighed to himself, bringing a reassuring hand to his shoulder. 

He slipped his palm down over his collarbone, onto the metal grid covering the blonde's heart. It was oddly warm for a foreign piece of metal attached to someone's body. He felt Vash's eyes on him and picked up on the way he was holding his breath. 

Slipping his hand to the side of Vash's ribcage, Wolfwood manoeuvred him a little closer, thinking for a second about what he was doing - why he was doing it, why he cared so much, why seeing Vash's scars undid something within him that made him want to shield him with all he had, to reassure him that in his eyes he was on par with the holiest of things. 

It all culminated within him, thoughts racing through his head at speeds he didn't think were possible- until, for a moment, it went quiet.

In that instant, Wolfwood found his lips pressed to a scar on the centre of Vash's chest, kissing it with the same credence as the punctured hand of a statue of the Lord himself. 

His skin smelled metallic, though that wasn’t surprising considering they were both dirtied by varying quantities of each other's blood- yet beneath that, Wolfwood could have sworn there was a hint of something nicer- more calming, how he imagined sitting in a field of greenery would be. 

He pulled his lips away, then pressed them to the same spot again, just a peck this time- and sat up. Vash looked at him as if he’d hung the moons in the sky- it made him feel strangely sick, seeing that affection in his eyes. Someone looking at him like that was unfamiliar, like he didn’t want to ever lose sight of him. 

He huffed through his nose when Vash touched at the spot he’d kissed, a small smile cracking onto both their lips. 

Letting the moment pass them by, Wolfwood's shifted his attention to a nasty graze that ran around the side of Vash's waist, almost as if someone had held him there and dragged their nails along his skin, tearing into it a little. 

He soaked the cloth again, twisting it out onto the floor before bringing it to the wound, catching him hiss under his breath. 

"'S cold." 

Vash laughed to himself, shivering a little, goosebumps appearing on the scarce patches of unscarred skin. 

"There, there, be a big boy now." 

Wolfwood teased, smiling at the way Vash's chest shook a little with a chuckle. 

He stole a glance up at Vash's face, glad to see that he was more relaxed now, like he'd settled into the idea of Wolfwood seeing him like this. Those pretty blue eyes tracked each move of his hands- not out of fear, but something more reminiscent of curiosity, maybe even admiration, if Wolfwood really wanted to boost his ego by thinking that. 

He wondered whether the unplanned kiss had helped soothe him- the feeling of his lips against Vash’s skin still fresh in his mind when he thought about it again. Soft and warm and pleasant, like it was made to be seen and loved by another. In the face of everything Vash hated about himself, Wolfwood found a new level of infatuation, that was growing inside of him so rapidly recently that it was bound to break out one day or another. 

With his mind still wandering, he cleaned around the graze as carefully as he could manage in these conditions, wrapping a few strips of quickly running out bandage around Vash's midriff, trying not to think about the way he kept brushing the small of his back each time he brought the roll of fabric around him. 

"There, all done now." 

Wolfwood traced his fingers over the dressing gently, reaching for Vash's shirt. 

“Careful, don’t undo the bandages-.”

He advised, helping Vash work the shirt down his chest, pulling it loose when it snagged against things, the other trying to contribute to the help all the same- hands catching Wolfowod’s own. Once they’d reached the bottom, Wolfwood found his hands remained resting pleasantly against Vash’s sides, held in place by Vash’s own settled on top of them.

"You're free to go." 

He chuckled, though his hands stayed rooted on him, and Vash still pressed onto his the same way. 

"Oh, um, yeah. Thank you." 

Vash nodded, shifting a little, almost enough to let go, until he didn't. There was an awkward sort of reluctance between them- an innate need not to let go that neither of them truly wanted to confess to. Their bodies had a tendency to show what their words couldn’t articulate yet.

"You're a little dirty, right here." 

Vash laughed nervously, picking up the damp rag and bringing his hand to Wolfwood's face, wiping carefully at his cheek, getting rid of a piece of dirt that never actually existed. He rested his palm against his jaw, suddenly all the more aware of the fact he was still sitting on his lap. He tried to shake it, really, but one of Wolfwood's hands moving to the small of his back undid him. 

"I thought I lost you." 

He whispered, soft and intimate, cupping the other side of his face, as if anyone were around to hear other than the two of them. 

"I know. I'm sorry about that." 

Wolfwood looked at him in a way that made him want to run to the rooftops and scream with joy, it breathed something new into him that made his heart race. 

"Promise…  Promise me you won't scare me like that again." 

Vash urged, leaning their foreheads together for the second time that day, letting his eyes fall closed with the solace he felt this time around. The quiet moments between their words were comforting now, he felt them mellow him out of the anxiety still pent up in his stomach.

"You know I can't." 

Wolfwood murmured, and with each word, Vash felt their lips ghost past each other- scraping with how cracked they were- yet he’d never relished the feeling of anything more. 

"Yeah… I know… I know." 

Vash hesitated, a bittersweet sadness laced through his voice. 

"Then, let's just protect each other as long as we can. I can’t lose you, I can’t-"

Vash didn’t get a chance to finish, breathing a sigh of momentary reprieve into Wolfwood’s lips.

It was a difficult kiss, to begin with- both their lips were dry, cracked in places and worn out from the desert heat. Wolfwood tasted bitter, like tobacco and what Vash could only assume were the remnants of the lifesaving drug he'd given him earlier. It was a strange combination, the closest thing he could compare it to was dark chocolate- a deep, rich flavour. He’d heard people say such things were an acquired taste and took time to start liking- it seemed as if he’d passed over that process already. 

Vash pushed into him a little, threading fingers through coarse, black hair, tilting his head to one side as Wolfwood did to the other. 

By contrast, Vash was surprisingly earthy- Wolfwood could tell he'd bitten his bottom lip open out of worry earlier, it left a peculiar dent in it for the time being, and a subtle taste of iron he couldn’t seem to escape. Kissing Vash felt like drinking water after a long trek- somehow refreshing despite the warmth of his mouth against Wolfwood’s own. Vash let out a small gasp for air, and he would have swallowed the sound if he could. 

The world seemed to pause for a while, with the two of them sitting there, holding one another and pressing their lips together again and again in easy, wanting kisses. There was no hurt, no danger, nothing else to worry about but their teeth clashing against each other- just for this small moment, it was the least they could give and the most they would let themselves have simultaneously. 

Eventually, Vash pulled back, breaths heavy, unable to help himself from peppering a few quick pecks onto Wolfwood's cheek, nuzzling against his face a little as he did. 

"You're too much, Spikey." 

Wolfwood teased- Vash shrugged, a stupidly drunk smile on his face and let himself fall forward against his chest, pressing his head to the crook of Wolfwood's neck, breathing his presence in. 

In spite of his comment, he felt Wolfwood snake steady arms around him, shifting Vash that little bit closer to him in doing so. He took to running his fingers along the ridges of his spine, feeling Vash go slack against him at the sensation, a warm huff of relief ghosting over his neck. 

In truth, Wolfwood wanted to kiss him again, though he supposed the feeling of Vash's steady breaths against him was enough to satisfy that need for now. 

"Tired?" 

He hummed, turning his head to where his face pressed against Vash's head of hair as he did, kissing at his temple. 

"Mmhm."

Vash grumbled back, already halfway asleep with Wolfwood's gentle touches to thank for it. He nestled himself right up against him, arms hanging loosely around the lower half of Wolfwood's torso. 

"Alright." 

Acknowledging the fact that this was how they would sleep tonight- with Vash still on his lap and him sitting against a wall- Wolfwood reached for Vash's coat and draped it over the blonde's shoulders, the train of it so long it effectively served them both as a blanket. 

"Who would've thought I'd end up with the humanoid typhoon dozing off on my chest?" 

Wolfwood chuckled, feeling Vash smile from the way his lips shifted against the skin of his neck. 

"Life's full of surprises." 

Vash hummed. 

"I never expected… Nicholas the Punisher to have a soft side, either." 

He retorted, interrupted by a yawn- Wolfwood felt his face warm.

"You saved me from dyin', idiot, 'course I'm gonna let you get some comfortable rest as thanks." 

"Just as thanks? You don't like it?" 

"Shut yer trap." 

Wolfwood huffed, rolling his eyes despite the fact Vash wouldn't see him do so. 

'Course I like it.  

"Wolfwood?" 

"What now, Spikey.?"

Vash started, sounding a little hesitant. 

"I… I'm sorry for crying. You were the one so much more hurt, yet I was the one sobbing. I should have kept it together." 

Vash murmured, cheek smushed up against Wolfwood's shoulder. He felt Wolfwood tense at his comment. Then, there was a light-handed smack to the back of his head. 

"Hey… owww." 

Vash groaned, huffing as Wolfwood's hand settled against the hair he'd cut short, in the same spot he'd just hit. 

"Spikey, look at me for a minute." 

Wolfwood asked, and begrudgingly Vash raised his head from his shoulder, blinking up at him with tired lilac eyes. 

Instantly, Wolfwood’s expression softened- he saw how drained the poor guy looked, and suddenly reprimanding him wasn't in the cards anymore. He wasn't dumb enough to miss the fact that above anything else, right now Vash needed rest. For once, he wanted him to have an opportunity to do it peacefully– and he'd never have a shot at being a safe haven for the night if all he did was lecture him. 

So, upon further consideration, Wolfwood simply leaned in and kissed the inflamed, lightly glowing skin under both of his eyes, pressing a final, longer kiss to his forehead. 

"Stop sayin' stupid shit and just go to sleep, alright?"

Wolfwood breathed, biting his tongue to resist ending his sentence with 'alright, angel?' rather than what he'd said. It was corny, he knew, but Vash undid him in ways he couldn't have ever thought possible- and that description, an angel, just managed to match the living, breathing miracle of a human plant resting in his arms currently. 

Vash smiled up at him, barely, with his lack of energy. For a moment he put a hand on Wolfwood's face, brushing a thumb over his lips- almost as if he were planning to kiss him again - and then settled back against his chest. 

He shifted around a little, practically melting against him, emitting a soft noise of gratitude when he felt Wolfwood thread his fingers through his hair. 

"G'night…" 

He whispered, feeling like he could finally sleep soundly- if only for tonight - there was something about the way Wolfwood held him that subdued his constant need to be on high alert. It was nice, for once, to be watched over rather than being the one guarding someone himself. 

"Night, blondie."

Wolfwood replied, resting his chin against the top of Vash's head, lone strands of hair tickling his face in places. 

He shifted his hand to Vash's back again, pressing his fingers into it in an effort to resemble some sort of massaging motion- he couldn't imagine how sore the other must be on the daily, with all that traumatised tissue getting stretched and flexed each time he made a move a little too dynamic– which seemed to be Vash's speciality. Wolfwood wondered whether he'd been in pain for so long, with new scars piling up left right and centre, that he just didn't notice it in the background anymore. He wondered if a normal person would survive a day in Vash's body without being miserable and bedbound. Maybe he'd ask, someday, offer to help relax his aching muscles, get to see Vash in all his glory again, with all the stories wrapping his perfectly sculpted frame- Wolfwood shook himself. He needed another smoke. 

Vash stirred a little in his hold, then finally let out a long huff and settled. Wolfwood closed his eyes for a little while, listening out for a shift in his breaths, which came surprisingly soon. He smiled to himself as Vash snored quietly against his skin, feeling content with knowing that he was finally safe, resting. 

Wolfwood had never been one for exploring his emotions-he never delved into how he felt, though right now, with Vash sound asleep and warm against him the feeling of his heart swelling in his chest was unavoidable. 

Despite the want for another cigarette, Wolfwood opted to simply hold Vash a little closer- for his sake, he wouldn’t want him to be woken by the smell of cigarettes so close to his face. He let his eyes close, hand gentle against the nape of Vash’s neck, holding him steady in place. It wasn’t all that long until sleep took him, too- as long as he remembered, he’d struggled with it- tossing and turning until the sun was rising. Yet, since meeting Vash and sleeping with him in tiny beds in cheap motel rooms and the bumpy backs of cars, it seemed to come to him a lot easier. 

Even with the cold hardwood floor beneath him, the warmth Vash brought was enough to tug him into joining him in getting some well-deserved rest. 

—

Vash woke first the next morning- the sun poured in through the doors and windows of the inn, beaming her pleasant rays down onto them as usual. Wolfwood snored a little, arms heavy around Vash, the weight reassuring. Vash tucked himself back against the crook of his neck, having slipped down to rest against this chest in his sleep. 

For Vash Saverem, there were only ever two types of dreams. 

Nightmares, where he’d relive moments of his life over and over, where his fears would manifest and taunt him, where his brother’s voice taunted him on loop. 

And dreams. Or, one dream. 

It was always him and Rem, in a field of red geraniums, a soft breeze rustling the petals of the flowers surrounding them, making the grass in between each one sway. He felt her presence, heard her voice- it was comforting, these rare instances where his mind would be merciful enough to sleep peacefully. 

He’d had one of those dreams tonight.

Or, almost. 

The gently swaying plain of geraniums still stretched before him, as far as the eye could see- he could still feel the grass under his fingertips. Yet, instead of Rem, he heard familiar laughter at his side- a rough, warm voice talking to him about Eden, about how they could make a place to be happy together, someday, after all was said and done. 

Vash swallowed back the lump in his throat, tightening his arms around Wolfwood, holding onto the back of his jacket. A part of him wanted to believe it- to indulge in that wishful part of his unconscious mind. To live somewhere where he could wake up to the feeling of steady arms framing his broken body and not be left wondering when the next time would be. Somewhere where this was routine. That naive idea was enough of a reason for him not to run away, just this once.

Instead, he settled back into Wolfwood, basking in his presence and the glow of the sun on his skin, both equally as warm.