Archive of Our Own ^beta

Shock of cold.

Sinking.

Air bubbling from his mouth, he had to resist the urge to gasp.

The red glow from his sister enveloped his features, as Vash sank deeper into the tank. The blood leaking from his leg was adding to it, coloring the water in red ribbons. He had to blink his eyes rapidly to get them used to the stinging chemicals, but he knew it wouldn’t take long for his body to adapt.

Already, he felt the sensation of small feathery filaments separating from his skin, and could see the blue glow from his markings reflecting on the glass around him.

Soon, he would breathe in the liquid as it was air.

Everything felt calmer underwater, and the yellow, depressing light fluttering in the ceiling almost looked pretty through the filter of soapy water.

“Are you a fish? You’ve been in there for an hour,” Wolfwood called through the bathroom door of their motel room, pounding on it with an obnoxious rhythm that could have only been learned from the experience of annoying multiple siblings.

“This morning you called me a chicken, make up your mind!” Vash yelled back, after starting up from the bath in alarm at the noise, splashing water everywhere. “Do you even know what a fish is?”

“Something slimy and stinky that lives in the water, as you seem to aspire to do,” Wolfwood said.

“You’re the one who stinks,” Vash muttered.

“Well yeah, since you’re hogging the bathroom so I can’t get cleaned up!”

With a sigh, Vash drained the tub, dried off, and got dressed. He opened the door, and bowed with a flourish towards Wolfwood.

“The bath is all yours now, you smelly priest.”

Wolfwood darted towards Vash, which made him screech and jump away. Instead of trying to give him a noogie — or worse, twist his nose — Wolfwood only ruffled Vash’s damp spikes and told him to dry his hair properly. Then he disappeared into the bathroom, and soon, the shower started running.

Seeing his chance to slip away for a while, Vash shouted that he was going out.

He grabbed his gun and boots, and disappeared into the night.

When they had arrived into the town earlier that day, Vash had felt the local plant’s pain. It was radiating in the air, making it hard for him not to react the closer they got to the old building she was housed in.

Vash had not said anything to Wolfwood, but they both had noted the meager dinner options in the bar, and how unnaturally quiet the streets were. After some careful questions aimed at the bartender, it seemed the locals imported most of their water from a neighboring town, but they were reliant on their own plant for electricity, which in turn powered the local farms. Without the plant, they would run out of food — the current harvest would fail and everything needing refrigeration would spoil.

Vash had ignored the piercing stare from Wolfwood, and just kept rambling how much he was looking forward to a bath and a good night’s sleep, while they were walking up to the room they had booked after eating. Wolfwood had smoked mostly in silence and just humored him with an occasional grunt.

Outside, Vash was glad he had left his coat behind in a bid to sneak in to the plant building more easily. His black long-sleeved shirt and pants made him blend in the darkness. The main street only had a couple of dim lights on, as the bartender had said the town was rationing their electricity.

Getting inside through the main entrance of the repurposed silo was surprisingly easy, but Vash had to cringe at the sound his reinforced boots were making on the rusty steel floors. Deciding to take his shoes off, he stashed them behind some storage boxes near the entrance — now he could move quietly and much faster in just his socks.

The building had a confusing layout, with corridors that were circling the outer wall in a spiraling route. It seemed that he’d first have to go up, and then find a door that led him to the center where the plant was, which meant that he had to peek in through every door he ran into, until he finally found one that would take him to the right direction. If there ever had been signs on the doors, they were either too worn to make much out, or had been removed.

The doorways he had checked so far had been leading to either offices or storage rooms. Fortunately, Vash had not seen any sign of people yet, so his search was proceeding quickly through the first couple floors.

Reaching out to open another door, he froze at the horrifying creak the old hinges made.

There was an older man sitting at a table inside the room, looking like he had been happily napping just seconds ago, face buried in his arms. He lifted his head, with half of his beard still squashed against his cheek, and looked at Vash.

“Hey!” The man started yelling and grabbing for his gun.

Vash slammed the door shut and started running, socked feet sliding on the floor. He could hear a bang of another door slamming open somewhere deeper in the building, and a voice questioning what was going on.

“Someone’s here to steal our plant!” The man shouted back.

Vash cursed. Why did they always assume the worst of him? He should really find a way to leave and come back another time when things had quieted down again, but he was worried. The plant sounded weak, and who knew if they would bolster the guard the following days, making sneaking in again more difficult. Since someone had seen him, it would also be very risky to use the ruse of pretending to be a plant engineer and be let in volunterily.

He did not want to take that gamble — Vash ran towards the upper floors, determined to reach the plant tonight.

The shouting behind him continued, and he could now count multiple pairs of footsteps. Troublingly, there were soon also voices ahead of him.

“I’ll cut him off!”

Skidding to a stop, Vash looked for an escape route, and turned around a corner. He almost ran directly into a woman — without slowing down, he took a hold of her shoulders and just spun her around to avoid collision.

“Sorry!”

She screamed in surprise at being forcibly twirled around.

Vash sprinted up a staircase, taking multiple steps at a time.

“Upstairs! He’s going up!” He could hear the woman yelling, upset.

Someone started shooting at him from the floor below. Vash groaned.

He opened a random door on the next landing, took a second to recognize that he was now in a small kitchen, and then dragged a heavy cabinet in front of the doorway to barricade it. He ducked down to avoid gunfire, as someone immediately tried to shoot through it.

There - he saw a metal hatch hiding an opening near the ceiling on the other side of the room, looking like a ventilation shaft. Staying low, he ran towards it.

A higher caliber gun joined the fray behind the door with a deeper, booming sound, the wood starting to splinter from the continuous violence.

Amidst the gunfire, there was a reverberating sound of a bullet hitting metal - then, suddenly, a searing pain in his right leg.

Vash collapsed, slapping a hand on his mouth to avoid crying out.

He looked down; one of the bullets that had finally pierced the door, had likely hit one of the pans hanging on the kitchen wall, ricocheting back and hitting him just below the knee. Dragging himself behind the counter, he grabbed a kitchen towel full of scorch marks hanging from the oven handle, and hastily tied it around his bleeding leg. He bit his lip from the pain as he tugged it tight, but the sound of people trying to break down the door made him scramble towards the vent on the wall. He held on to the countertop, climbed on top of it and ripped the metal cover off from the vent with his prosthetic. He chucked the cover in first, and then lifted himself into the shaft.

Just as the door broke down and angry people started pouring in, the vent cover had already been snapped back in place in front of the tunnel entrance.

Vash slowly crawled away deeper into the darkness.

After banging his elbow and injured leg numerous times inside the ventilation network, Vash finally made it to the plant chamber. He removed the rusted vent cover from the exit, but it accidentally slipped from his grip, falling down the multiple feet drop. He grimaced at the metal clatter echoing in the space, but there was no movement below.

The central room housing the plant was circular, with a high ceiling and walls made from recycled scrap metal. Exposed pipes and wiring covered them, looking like an originally temporary setup had been left to become the long-term solution. Only the dim reddish glow from the plant within the tank lit the room, the overhead lights been long shut down for the night.

Vash took a deep breath and then let himself fall. He tried to put most of his weight on his intact leg and roll to lessen the impact, but as he hit the floor, he let out an involuntary scream at the jolt, as his right leg buckled.

If his leg hadn’t already been broken from the gunshot wound, he was pretty sure he had just shattered something.

For a moment, he stayed flat on the floor where he had crumbled down, just breathing through the pain. Tears and sweat stung his eyes. Knowing he did not have time for a break, Vash wiped his face and crawled towards the plant tank.

Vash leaned against the glass. Reaching out with both hands, he left misty impressions on the tank, his feverish skin contrasting with the cool surface. He closed his eyes, forehead clunking against the glass.

Sister, I’m here.

Silence. He frowned. The plant was still, and did not react to his call. Usually, most of his sisters would recognize him long before he even called out to them directly, sensing he was close-by.

Sister?

There was no movement in the tank. Seconds passed.

His leg throbbed.

Sweat fell down his face.

His hand slipped down on the glass, making a squeaking sound.

Somewhere in the building, there were distant yells. More gunfire.

Vash opened his eyes, and saw his reflection surrounded by the plant’s red glow in the stillness.

How long would it take to wake his sister? Was he too late?

If someone came in to this room, he had no places to hide.

He scrambled up and leaning on the glass, he hobbled towards the access stairs leading to the top of the tank. He clung to the railing, and dragged himself up the steps.

At the top, he ripped off the bloody kitchen towel, his socks, and then his shirt, until he was just wearing his pants. He scrunched the bundle of clothes into a ball and pushed it between the tank’s console and railing, out of sight.

Then he set his gun on top of the pile, turned around and opened the hatch to the tank.

Vash dove in.

He gasped.

Vash shuddered as the tank liquid started flowing through his lungs, letting him taste the chemical compounds and sense their levels growing in his blood. The constant background murmur of the plants in his head was growing stronger.

More and more feathers were extending from his shoulders and back and then separating and sticking together to become petal-like wings. Layers and layers of long tendrils were also growing on his arm and legs, and swaying in the water. He felt like a thinning book, where pages were getting ripped out too fast. His right hand felt sticky, webbing growing between the fingers.

He should have probably taken off his prosthetic, as the feathers were also sneaking down the edges of the connecting port, and wrapping around the joints. He was also not sure if the chemicals in the fluid would corrode metal. He cringed.

Finally, as he reached the bottom of the tank, floating next to the plant, the sibling resemblance was stronger than ever.

Vash touched the cocooned plant gently and floated closer with a beat of his wings.

I’m here to help. I’m sorry sister, I know you’re tired, but please let me see you!

He could mostly hear the rapid thud of his heart and the steady hiss coming from the tank’s filtering system. Underneath it, there was the echo of running footsteps and muffled yells. They were getting closer.

He felt like the liquid around him had turned to ice.

Please sister! I can help you!

For a moment, everything was still. Then the bulb started slowly unraveling, revealing one sluggish eye.

Red brother?

The eye narrowed and the petals opened a bit more.

Scared/Hurt?

It’s alright, I'm okay. I’ll help you and you’ll feel better.

Vash reached out with both hands to the plant, who slower, mirrored his pose. He could only hope he had enough time.

He closed his eyes and focused, markings flaring up bright.

The steel door to the plant room burst open with an echoing bang and Vash was unable to stop his fear spiking through the connection.

No no no, can’t find me here, they can’t see-

Need Hide/Conceal?

Yes, I-

Like the snapping jaws of a burrowing worm, the petals from the bulb opened, multiple hands shot out and snatched Vash inside.

When the group of gunmen burst into the room, they paid no mind to the plant in the tank, floating in its cocoon and glowing light pink.

"He's not here, let's move on!"

Wolfwood was pissed.

He knew something was up with the spiky-haired idiot. He had been off since they had arrived to this town; ohh, how he’d love to have one quiet night, sleep in a real bed — and only then deal with whatever disaster Vash had conjured up this time.

His shirt still slightly damp due to the speed he had dressed up after his shower, Wolfwood was marching through the streets. His face was stormy, Punisher casting a long shadow behind him. A flash from his lighter briefly illuminated his worried eyes behind the dark glasses, as he smoked through half of his pack.

Vash had said something about going out. He had left behind his coat, which was unusual, so Wolfwood left to go look for him. Just in case.

He had gone down to the bar to wait for him, but then a man had ran in, yelling something about a plant thief. Wolfwood had narrowed his eyes, suspicious at the timing.

He had gone outside and was now walking towards the plant building. Just in case.

Muffled gunshots pierced the night — Wolfwood started running.

Vash felt safe. Someone was holding him.

There was a pink glow around him in the darkness. It made him frown, that was not right. He needed to fix it.

He focused and held on to someone’s hands. Slowly, the light turned purple.

He was getting tired. But he knew it wasn’t enough.

Someone was gently petting his hair.

He was almost there, the light was becoming healthy blue, but he felt drained.

Brother, enough.

He could fix it, he just needed to hang on for a moment more. Almost there!

Nearing limit/unsustainable.

Hands were taking a hold of him, and moving him away. The safety of the darkness fell away, his surroundings splitting and opening up, becoming brighter.

Vash blinked at the light around him. There was someone looking at him - through the glass of the plant tank. He met the man’s wide eyes and looked at his hastily buttoned suit, messy dark hair and how the smoking stick in his mouth was falling down-

Wolfwood.

Oh no, no no no no-

Vash was panicking. He looked around in the tank, but there was nowhere to hide. He curled up small and covered himself in his wings, making a high, warbling noise of distress.

His sister cooed at him behind him.

Protector, safe/secure.

Vash shook his head in protest. He chanced a peek through his wings at Wolfwood, who had not yet seemingly abandoned him in disgust, but was now running up the access stairs to reach the top of the tank. What was he doing?

While Vash was still battling his confusion/embarrassment/fear and stayed hidden, it seemed that his sister had made a decision for him. The plant held out some of her multiple hands to push Vash towards the surface of the tank, content to end her brother’s visit here.

She bent close to once more touch his forehead as goodbye, and sent one final message with a pulse of light.

Brother, time to rest/go home.

Vash could suddenly not keep his eyes open anymore, the exhaustion hitting him fully.

He went limp, his wings and limbs loosening from his curled-up form.

He was aware of being lifted up, breaching the surface of the tank, and then warm hands were grabbing him to get him out on the staircase landing. He heard the familiar voice of Wolfwood chewing him out, but he could not make out the words. He leaned against the warm/smoky/safe and shook.

The feeling of his wings slowly folding back into him was awful, as they were rapidly drying out from the tank fluid, crackling in the air. Something warm got bundled around him, once most of the wings were out of the way, and someone was wiping his plastered hair away from his face.

Trying to take a deep breath, Vash choked, as his lungs were not yet ready to breathe air again instead of the tank liquid. Wolfwood’s voice turned worried, as Vash was wheezing, diaphragm spasming from the force of his coughing. He was turned on his side to help him breathe, but his injured leg hit the metal railing in the process, as he convulsed.

He cried out from the pain, and then blissfully, finally passed out.

Wolfwood was staring down at the blond dumbass Spikey, who admittedly, was not currently very spiky, as his hair was still mostly plastered along his head from the plant tank fluid. Wolfwood had done his best to wipe him down at least somewhat, but he really needed a bath or a long shower.

Vash had not luckily woken up during the process where Wolfwood had to dig out the bullet from his leg, set the bone, and then clean and stitch the wound closed. He had braced the leg as well as he could, bandaged it and then elevated it on some pillows. It was still already swelling, and turning into multiple horrific colors from all the bruising, but Wolfwood could only pray that Vash would heal as quickly as usual.

He itched for a smoke, but after seeing Vash cough his lungs out on the floor just a few hours before, he was not keen to risk another fit, if his lungs were not completely recovered yet. He could go outside, but admittedly, he could not make himself leave the room more than it was absolutely necessary at the moment.

Vash was trying to blink, but it felt like his eyes were glued shut. He raised his right hand to rub at them, but his body felt extremely heavy, and the arm just flopped around. He tried his prosthetic, but it was not responding at all.

Had he shorted it out again? Brad would be so mad if he had lost it, he hated making a new one from scratch.

Vash whined at the thought.

“Spikey. Needle-noggin. Blondie.” Someone was calling him names.

“M’yeh,” said Vash.

“Don’t ‘myeh’ me, you’ve been asleep for almost ten hours,” said the irritated voice, sounding suspiciously like Wolfwood.

“M’eyes,” said Vash pitifully, still failing to open his eyelids.

There was a sigh somewhere nearby, a splashing sound and then a wet towel was wiping his face. The Wolfwood-voice was grumbling about it the whole time, but the hands were gentle and careful.

It made Vash tear up, when he finally managed to blink and look around blearily in the familiar motel room, bringing back the events from before.

The sick plant. Him going in to the tank. Wolfwood seeing him there. All monstrous.

He glanced at Wolfwood’s concerned face, which showed no sign of disgust, fear or hate so far, and that just made him cry harder.

“Hey- what are you cryin’ about now, you big baby?” Wolfwood sounded slightly panicked, leaning over to look at Vash. “Does your leg hurt?”

“N-no, I mean ow- yeah, a bit.” Vash tried wiggling his toes, and ouch, that was not a good idea currently.

He hiccuped and was about to move his leg some more anyway to test what his current range of motion was, when Wolfwood carefully but firmly grabbed his foot to keep it still.

Wolfwood looked at Vash, looking tired, and Vash looked back with big, wet eyes.

“Stop that. Also you need to drink some water, before you start looking like an even sadder, dried-out weed,” Wolfwood finally muttered, offering Vash a glass of water from the bed-side table.

“Rude,” the dehydrated Vash huffed, but drank the water gratefully in one go, with Wolfwood hovering nearby, in case his shaky hand managed to drop it. Vash coughed a bit out of the sheer feeling of getting rid of his dry mouth, and wiped his eyes with the damp towel some more.

“You didn’t get sick from the tank stuff, right?” Wolfwood asked.

“Oh, no, it’s um,” Vash wasn’t sure what to say to Wolfwood. How could he convey the feeling of the tank chemicals being actually perfectly suitable for someone like him, but also something he’d rather not experience ever again, unless he really, really had to.

If Vash could choose, he’d rather actually like to become liquid himself as of this moment, and ooze through the cracks in the floor to escape this conversation.

Wolfwood narrowed his eyes at him like he could read his running-away -thoughts, and squeezed his toes warningly since he was still holding on his foot to stop him from wiggling it around.

“What’s bugging you now, blondie,” Wolfwood asked.

“No, it’s… just a lot. The change. And I haven’t done it often,” Vash replied, hesitant, twisting the towel in his hand, and looking down at the fraying edges. “It probably looks horrifying,” he said quietly.

He pulled out more threads and then wrapped them around his fingers, then shook his hand to free it, and wrung the towel some more.

Wolfwood sat on the edge of the bed closer to Vash, and reached out to stop him from unraveling the cloth any more. He left his hand on top of Vash’s, who hesitantly turned it around to hold Wolfwood’s hand properly.

“I wouldn’t say that,” Wolfwood started slowly, and squeezed Vash’s hand. “At first, I was confused, ‘how did Spikey end up there,’ I thought. Then it was mostly worry if you were okay, and if someone had put you in there against your will. And I wondered if you could swim and how you would breathe in there.”

He was looking down at their hands, brows furrowing in thought. Vash was scared to make a sound, but held on to Wolfwood tighter, leaning towards him.

Vash looked at Wolfwood with imploring eyes, quietly asking him to continue. Wolfwood looked away, unable to stand the direct eye contact for too long. He cleared his throat.

“And, just before you got scared and scrunched up into a ball, I also thought,” Wolfwood swallowed, and looked at Vash.

“I thought, that you looked beautiful. Like one of those angel paintings in the church. Not the fire and brimstone ones. But rather those, where there are those guardian angels looking over the kids. You have the same kind smile.”

Wolfwood’s ears were red — Vash had never seen him look so shy.

“Wolfwood.” Vash could only sob, his eyes welling up again despite his best efforts. He turned to the side and pushed his face into Wolfwood’s shoulder, who jumped slightly.

“C’mon now, Spikey, you will truly be just a dry husk if you lose any more liquids,” he groaned, but despite his complaints, Wolfwood buried his hand into his hair, and wrapped the other one around Vash to bring him closer.

Vash just gripped his shirt tighter. He cried from the sheer overwhelm of having been so afraid of rejection and disgust, but then having Wolfwood say something so beautiful and heartfelt instead. He let the pain, exhaustion and the desperation from the previous day also drain away from him, all the while having Wolfwood there to soothe him.

“I’m so- so glad you’re here, Wolfwood,” Vash finally managed to get out between his tears and clutched Wolfwood closer. “I really mean it.”

“Yeah Spikey, I know,” Wolfwood said with a small smile, smoothing his hand down his back.

At some point Wolfwood adjusted them so they could lay down more comfortably, moving to sit behind Vash, so he could lean against him and still have his injured leg propped up. After a while the tears also stopped, and Wolfwood made Vash drink more water.

"By the way, what happened to my arm? And my gun, and boots?" Vash asked.

"Arm was full of plant goop, and I wasn't sure if that was good for it, so I took it off like you showed me and rinsed it in the shower. Didn't want to mess with it more, but you probably gotta clean it properly." Wolfwood explained and Vash whined thinking how long it would take to deep-clean it, but then thanked him. 

"Luckily saw the gun on the floor just when I was about to haul us out, so it's there on the table." Vash nodded happily and squeezed his hand around Wolfwood’s.

"And boots?" 

"…No idea Needles, dunno where you tossed them before you went for your swim." Wolfwood shrugged.

"Ohh, right,” Vash snapped his fingers. “I just remembered that I left them near the entrance. For sneaking."  

"You were running around barefoot the whole time you were in the plant building?" Wolfwood looked scandalized at the idea, even though he still didn't let Vash buy him socks to wear with his loafers.

"No, that'd probably be you. I had socks on, of course!" Vash explained.

They fell asleep for a few hours after bickering about footwear.

After they both woke up again, Vash was really feeling the discomfort. He could not wait to be able to take a shower after his leg healed a bit more. He complained to Wolfwood that he felt unbelievably gross covered in the tank goop which had now dried unpleasantly, sticking to his skin and hair. He could also still smell the strong chemicals, which were giving him a headache.

“Y’know, I think I was right about one thing the previous day,” Wolfwood said, and Vash could hear the smirk in his voice.

“Sounds like you’re admitting that you’re currently stinky and slimy. Like a fish.”

Vash hit him in the face with a pillow, and then aggressively kissed him.