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Wolfwood has his eyes glued to the wooden ground, inspecting the various stains of greese that tainted the old wood, for lack of a better way to spend the time being without having to speak directly to Vash.
The other man is currently bandaging the upper part of his left arm, where he got shot earlier.
Wolfwood doesn't even bother on sparing Vash a glance at his probably already well put puppy eyes, because he knows it'd easily put down all of his walls.
He really doesn't want to have that happening, even less if he's already in a vulnerable situation, where, after a lot of coertion, he's let himself be patched up by Blondie.
It's already bad that the wound wasn't all that serious enough for him to down a vial and call it a night. A shame really, because that provocked way too many worried glances that ended up tiring Wolfwood and making him want to skin himself alive only to get rid of this... shame embarrasment.
So Wolfwood dedicates to stare at the ground, an unlit cigarette between his teeth, filter already breaking under the preassure of his canines. Well, it'd already broken in two halves, a few moments back when Vash was getting the bullet out of his shoulder.
Out of habit, he almost stayed completely silent at the pain, but his cigarette had indeed suffered the consequences in his stead.
"Thanks." Wolfwood mutters, as soon as Vash finishes tying a knot on the bandage, already getting on his feet. He doesn't meet Vash eyes this time neither. He simply makes a bee line towards the window, and finally gets his cigarette lit, after fishing out his lighter.
He consciously keeps his back to Vash. He's not ready to confront him.
Confront him? What the hell is this? A damn divorce?
The tanned man clicks his tongue, resting his elbows over the frame of the window while he leans foward. He at least tries to enjoy his cigarette, taking a long drag before he takes it out of his mouth to exhale the smoke.
Wolfwood hears some minimal noise from behind him, and can practically see Vash trying to be as quiet as possible to not be perceived, while getting the bandages back in his pack.
"You can take the shower first." Wolfwood says, looking out through the window. There're no moons to look at, so his eyes uselessly wander through the almost empty street. At this hour of the night, people is either rotting at some bar or already home.
There are two women standing on high heels and short skirts though, looking from one side to the other. A drunkard collapsed over some dark alley too.
Vash doesn't answer.
After a few seconds, the bathroom door clicks shut.
Wolfwood lets out a long breath while he's using his free hand to mindlessly scratch the back of his head, deeming it a lost cause. After all, Vash was a nuthead, impossible to crack.
Of course the idiot would take the blame. He always did, even when he shouldn't.
This time was one of those. Long story short, Wolfwood had taken a bullet for him, a simple action, really (that can or not have some unwanted connotations Wolfwood isn't ready to face).
Vash didn't have anything to do with it, like always. It was all Wolfwood's fault.
"Vash!"
At this point, it's become an instinctual thing of his.
To look out for Vash.
His feet move without him having given the green light, his heart rate speeds up like it's going to jump straight out of his ribcage, and, out of a sudden, he's pushing the idiot out of harm's way.
The pain almost doesn't reach his brain.
Mission accomplished, Nicholas.
He squeezes his eyes shut. The pain does reach his brain, and the instant regret hits him as he lets out a low groan.
Surprisingly enough, he's still on his feet, but now with a white hot pain spreading over his shoulder, and fuckin static covering his whole arm.
Goddamnit.
His shoulder fuckin hurts, and fuck it's bleeding so much is it supposed to feel like he's holding a firehose instead of a bleeding wound? and his knees fuckin shake like he's twelve again and he's back there– I can't go back there.
Wolfwood bites his tongue, a kind of pain that grounds him; it's up to him; it makes him feel in control.
Get your shit together, damnit, he tells himself, squeezing his eyes hard until he's seeing stars.
"Wolfwood!" Vash shouts at him, shooting a few calculated bullets that don't quite hit anyone and are only meant to spook the small fry that had chased him away. Fortunately, the losers get the point and get their asses running away.
By the time Vash is at his side, already putting one of Wolfwood's arms around his shoulders, Wolfwood doesn't feel like he's dying anymore (which was embarrasing to even feel because he was the Punisher, he didn't cry like a baby when he got shot).
"I'm fine, I'm fine," he says, making a futile attempt at unhanging himself from Vash's tall shoulders.
Wolfwood's glad he's still got his shades on, so there's still some dignity left in him.
"Come on," Vash says, ignoring Wolfwood's attempts at escaping him caring self. "Let's get back to our room and I'll patch you up." He states, without even putting some kicked puppy tone.
Wolfwood immediately frowns, but lets himself be dragged towards the Inn.
When Vash comes out of the bathroom, there's no steam coming out of the small room. Wolfwood slightly frowns, his cigarette long since stomped over on the ground and his back leaning against the wall.
"No hot water?" He asks with a disappointed look.
"Oh!" Vash chuckles, wearing a white dress shirt and his usual pants, and drying his head with his real hand. "I didn't use any, but you surely should! It does come out perfectly! I've checked." He grins at Wolfwood, though the latter doesn't buy it one bit.
"But you love hot showers, it helps your sore muscles." Wolfwood says as a matter of fact, now squinting at Vash and crossing his arms (carefully not to poke his healing shoulder too much). He walks a few steps to shorten the distance between them.
"Eh... yeah... but you..." Vash's looking at everywhere else but him, while nervously scratching his head, with the towel now hanging from his shoulder.
"You don't owe me anything, Vash." Wolfwood says, and watches Vash's throat bobble when he swallows, still without meeting his eyes. "I took that bullet because I wanted to."
That just sounds plain stupid.
"I saved you because I chose to."
Finally, Vash turns to look at him, though his head is now slightly bowed, but not like a kicked puppy, like a bad dog.
"What is it?" He asks, already getting annoyed with this whole ordeal. Instinctively, he reaches out– though he's always shown affection through cruelty, so instead of a warm embrace, he grabbed him by the collar of his shirt.
"Is it so hard to believe someone would willingly save you?"
Vash doesn't even flinch, not at his words, and definitely not by the sudden yanking by his shirt.
He has this absolutely defeated expression that makes Wolfwood want to open his own ribcage and put him inside of it, next to his heart, so no harm will ever reach him.
"You weren't supposed to get hurt." Vash whispers, though it doesn't escape Wolfwood ears. He immediately scowls.
"So you can get hurt and take bullets for any asshole that crosses your way, but some other asshole can't do the same for you– mmph!?"
He's suddenly interrupted when two hands grab him by the back of his head and push him foward until his lips meet another pair of lips that are oh so soft and actually taste sweet like butter–
And before Wolfwood knows it, he's melting onto the kiss, and his hands find their way to hold Vash's waist, so he brings him even closer to him.
As soon as it starts, sadly, it's over.
"I just don't like watching you get hurt." Vash glances at him with so much sadness that it breaks Wolfwood's heart. Then, he rests his forehead against Wolfwood's –uninjured– shoulder, which makes something in his chest flutter. "And even less when it's my fault."
He doesn't know where he gets the urge from, but Wolfwood leaves a kiss over his bare neck. "I've already told you. I chose to do that." He left another kiss next to the previous spot.
Then, he cups Vash's cheek and lifts his face from his shoulder, only to plant another kiss on his lips. This kiss, now that everything has been said, feels more tender and passionate, like the burdens have been washed away from their shoulders and they're free to be themselves.
Wolfwood's uses the hand that was at Vash's waist and cups the other side of his face. He only slightly opens his mouth as an invitation, and Vash gladly accepts it. Their tongues dance around each other's mouth like they're meant to be.
So when they eventually pull away to breathe, it doesn't feel so bitter. Wolfwood smiles, feeling greatful, as they lean against each other's forehead, panting for air.
"That felt amazing. I'll get shot more often, if this is the reward."
Vash chuckles, and the sweet sound feels like music to his ears. Then, he pulls away and gives the softest of gazes to Wolfwood.
The dark haired man thinks he might just die of a heart attack right here, for feeling so much in so little time.
I could spend my whole life looking at you, he thinks, endeared by the sight.
"I can kiss you without having you go through that, you know." Vash says, pouting. Wolfwood then grabs the other man by the chin, bringing their mouths just inches apart.
"Then, can you do it again, angel?" He says, before their lips meet again.
Scrap that, I'd love to spend my whole life with you by my side.