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If there is one thing about Vash that Nicholas D. Wolfwood has to admit to liking, most likely while being held at gunpoint because emotional honesty has never really been his strongest suit, it is most likely his smile. Not those fake ones that he uses to put the feelings of far less perceptive people at ease, or the ones that are overflowing with immeasurable depths of sorrow and somehow still manage to look so gentle.
No, the smiles that Nicholas truly likes, adores so much that it almost hurts, are probably the rarest of all of their kind. Those smiles that really reach his eyes and are filled with unbridled joy, wide and shining and full of teeth. They are so wonderfully bright that they can light up an entire room. Hell, if you hooked the man up to a generator, those smiles could probably supply a whole town with power.
This is probably where the whole gunpoint thing comes in, because it isn’t even the smile itself that Wolfwood likes the most. it’s what the smiles do for the rest of Vash’s expression. It’s also the way in which his nose scrunches up slightly when he laughs and how smiling makes his cheeks dimple so cutely. How it makes his eyes shine with a gentle radiance that is almost like starlight. Fuck, just thinking about it is enough to make Nicholas reach irritable levels of giddiness that he will forever deny feeling. He is cool and stoic damnit, it’s his entire calling card!
That is, unless you travel with a man named Vash the “Humanoid Typhoon” Stampede, who is much too perceptive for his own damn good. Leave it up to that annoying blond corncob of a man to point out all the times that he caught Wolfwood grinning right along with him, making a fool of himself because he has one too many drinks in his system to keep up the whole stoic act.
Case in point in this cosmic joke that is their existence, because honestly, who even comes up with this shit? The clusterfuck that has been the entirety of the last 24 hours is violently attempting to catch up with them, yet here they are. Playing cardgames in a ramshackle bar with a few drinks too many in their systems and, honestly, the repercussions of all of their actions can kindly fuck off all the way back into the desert. Wolfwood has way more important things to focus on right now, than the fact that he is down 2 vials of serum and burned through about three quarters of his total stockpile of ammunition for the Punisher.
All of that is stuff for tomorrow’s him to worry about, if the absolute banger of a hangover that he will surely be ending up with isn’t going to completely overpower his ability to function. He guesses that there is quite the chance that by tomorrow afternoon, he’ll be down 3 vials instead of 2 and once again, none of that matters. Not when he has Vash sitting on the opposite side of the table, grinning at him all lopsided and cheeky and looking oh so shining and bright.
Nicholas has lost count by now of the amount of shots they have downed between the two of them and truth to be told, he really doesn’t care about it either. They are in some no-name town in some no-name bar where no one seems to care about a wanted outlaw and a renegade clergyman making merry together. If anything, the people that run the place seem to be having a field day with the two rambunctious men who, they realised soon enough, were clearly long overdue for a night of fun and relaxation.
Vash laughs heartily at some stupid joke that Nicholas just cracked and he looks at him over the edge of his hand full of playing cards. They have long since lost count of who is winning, half of their games never even make it to any proper sort of finish line anyway and neither one of them could be bothered by it any less.
Their eyes meet and it is like a shock to Wolfwood’s already shaky system. Honestly, if he weren’t sitting down right now, he most likely would have stumbled over his own two feet. This truly is what he adores the most about Vash’s true smiles. It’s the way it makes his eyes sparkle like clear water, more beautiful and shiny than the rarest of gems. Those smiles bring out such a brightness in those beautiful blue-green orbs, like someone plucked the stars from the heavens and lovingly set them free to dance in his gaze. Moments like these, when Vash smiles so freely and looks at him with such tenderness in his expression, Wolfwood almost feels at peace with himself. Almost feels like he is worthy of the starlight in those smiling eyes, that watch him with so much gentleness and care.
Sweet Jesus on a bicycle, he really is turning into a fucking sap, isn’t he? Who’d have thought that Wolfwood would live to see a day where he would allow himself to grow soft. Only like this though, only when he is with Vash does he feel safe enough to allow himself to let go a little and just feel.
Oh Lord keep him from doing something so incredibly, deeply, impossibly stupid right now. He wants to lean in and kiss him so badly.
Again with that whole thing about only admitting to his feelings while being held at gunpoint, but he has been wanting to kiss Vash for quite a while now and refuses to act on it at every chance he gets. So let’s face it, there would be no other circumstance besides when he is being threatened with a bullet to some vital part or another, where he would actually admit to even having such desires.
More and more often, Wolfwood finds his thoughts drifting towards increasingly dangerous musings, wandering about risky scenarios involving Vash in greater numbers every time. It all started off fairly innocent and benign, with stuff like ‘how come Vash doesn’t ever get sunburned?’, and everything spiralled down into the gutter from there on out. Truth to be told, Nicholas has more or less stopped fighting this slip and slide into far less innocent lines of thinking quite a while ago. Probably somewhere around the time he realised that his feelings might be reciprocated by his steadfast companion, at least to one extent or another.
These days he wonders far more often about what Vash’s lips would feel like against his own and whether or not he will taste as sweet as Wolfwood thinks he will, given the amount of sugary confections that the independent plant likes to gobble up on any given day. His thoughts drift to what his skin would feel like under his calloused hands, which scars would feel rough and which ones would be smooth? Would he be ticklish? Is his hair as soft as it looks? How would Vash respond if he wove his fingers through the sunshine-bright strands and tug . Would he moan for him ?
Usually, that is the moment Nicholas forcefully yanks his thoughts away from even more dangerous territories, before his rational mind gets taken over by far more primal and, ah, instinctual impulses. The last thing he wants is to compromise the good thing that they have going on between them. Which might lead one to wonder why, if he is at least somewhat sure that these feelings aren’t entirely one-sided, Wolfwood hasn’t acted on any of this yet. Plain and simply put, and here comes that metaphorical gun again, it is because Wolfwood is a coward. He is so afraid that he is misinterpreting these signals, even though they are being given so clearly. A small and deeply insecure part of himself is terrified that he is reading too much into things, because his own infatuated heart so desperately wishes it to be true. If he were to make a move and it would hurt or upset his precious companion, he would never forgive himself. The last thing he wants is to add to Vash’s already expansive ocean of self loathing or, god forbid and even worse, make him feel pressured into going along with this for Wolfwood’s sake.
So, instead, he just takes what he can get. He savours moments like this, where they can sit together and make merry, drinking and playing card games until the suns rise again to herald in a new day.
Wolfwood has managed to convince himself that this is enough, that the playful tension and bantering between them is all that he needs, that he can be satisfied with things just like they are. More accurately he has gaslit himself into ‘believing’ that it is okay like this because, let’s be real here for a second, it really isn’t. Every single day he grows closer to caving in and admitting to his feelings, because he knows full well that it will never be enough. Pretending that things are okay like this will never truly fill that aching, longing void that roils so painfully in his chest.
Their eyes meet and it’s like electricity rushing up and down his spine.
Something longing and awed glints in Vash’s bright eyes when their gazes catch and hold on to each other tightly. It buries itself deep into Nicholas’ heart and he never wants to let go of it ever again. Bright blue orbs flick down for just a split second, did Vash just glance at his mouth? What is going on? Nicholas’ breath catches when his companion lightly bites at his lip, almost as if he wants to tease him with it, drawing plump and inviting looking flesh beneath the sharp point of a canine. The glint in those sea blue eyes shifts a very particular way which indicates that Vash is planning something. It sends a thrill of anticipation through Wolfwood that he decidedly does not want to look at in any serious detail. He knows full well that the only thing he will find buried deep within such an instinctual response, is naked and unwavering desire, a wanting that burns deep within the darkest pits of his soul.
“I’m bored of playing cards,” Vash pipes up, that teasing, playful glint still so clear in his bright eyes, and, oh, he shouldn’t give in so easily. He knows he shouldn’t rise to the bait, but he is nothing if not a slave to his desire to make Vash happy, to give him everything he deserves to have and then some.
“Really? What else do you propose we do then? Besides drinking the rest of the night away, that is.” Wolfwood keeps their gazes locked, no matter how much his instinct is screaming at him to look away. Even though he knows full well that if they keep looking at each other like this for much longer, he won’t be able to hold back anymore. Vash’s piercing gaze burns into him and tears through his rapidly fraying self restraint, as if it were made of wet paper mache rather than steel, stone and barbed wire.
Vash laughs and the sound reminds Nicholas of clear bells and wind chimes, so bright and full of mirth that it makes him feel like his heart is about to burst.
“Well,” he says with laughter still audible in his voice. “The band has been playing for a while and people are dancing, soooo I was wondering if we could, maybe…you know….” All of Vash’s earlier bravado melts away with the half finished question, like wax before a roaring fire, and it is Wolfwood’s turn to smirk, his grin turning sharp and challenging.
“You were wondering what , Needle-noggin?” And, oh, Wolfwood shouldn’t be enjoying this as much as he is. He shouldn’t be letting this thing between them escalate any further than it already has, but sue him, he is having fun. Besides, he can tell Vash likes it too and he isn’t about to take these small joys away from him any time soon.
To his deep rooted embarrassment, the mere prospect of dancing with Vash makes him break out in a nervous tizzy, it is as enticing and exhilarating as it is terrifying. Just thinking about how it would bring their bodies together in such close proximity, is enough to cause his blood pressure to spike and his heart to drum a merry tapdance against the inside of his ribcage. He grins at Vash, hoping against all better judgement that the teasing will be enough to get him to finish stuttering out his request.
“Ah well, you’d probably think I’m just being silly or something, never mind about it. It was dumb anyway...” Aaaand there it is, that self deprecating little smile that Wolfwood so deeply hates seeing on Vash’s face. That little quirk of his lips that speaks so loudly and clearly of how much the gunslinger deprives himself of all the good things in life, how clearly he expects that others will deny him even the smallest comfort or kindness that he dares to ask for. That won’t fly, not tonight, not when they are finally having an opportunity to have fun and let themselves relax for a change. It won’t ever fly again, if Wolfwood will have any say in it.
Emboldened by his desire to bring the brightness back in his companion’s now so forlorn looking expression, Nicholas shoves his own fears and doubts down into the furthest recesses of his mind for the time being. They can stay there, tucked away nice and firm, behind a barrier of alcohol and slowly climbing levels of nerve-induced adrenaline.
A slow heat rises to his cheeks as he reaches out and brushes the tips of his fingers over the back of Vash’s hand. The touch is light and tentative, barely even there at all, yet it carries the weight of all of the words that remain unspoken between them. Fingertips run softly along the edge of Vash’s marksman glove, the touch so gentle and so full of all the things that Nicholas feels but doesn’t dare to voice. He can’t, for the life of him, keep their gazes locked anymore and he looks away while feeling flustered beyond belief and unbearably exposed. God, he truly is a pathetic excuse of a man isn’t he? If a slight touch like this is already enough to make him feel like he is about to have a heart attack.
When Vash doesn’t at all respond to this tentative attempt to bridge the gap between them, Wolfwood quickly pulls his hand back with a cold sense of dread swiftly settling in the pit of his stomach. He fucked up, he must have. He can’t bring himself to raise his eyes again to look at the other man, feeling like something has ripped open his chest and is digging its teeth and claws in his still beating heart.
“You know what, whatever, you’re right I guess. I’ll just go and get us another drink or something,” he rambles, with panic clawing at his throat. He needs to get away from this, get away from Vash so that he can pretend that none of this has ever happened. So that both of them can happily ignore the fact that he just broke all of his own rules, in an attempt to cross the yawning chasm that clearly still exists between them. So that they can pretend that he didn’t misread all the signs and reached out to touch him. The tightness in Nicholas’s expression almost feels harsh enough to make his skin crack, caused by the sharp and uncomfortable angle of the fakest grin he ever managed to plaster onto his own face.
Wolfwood is halfway back onto his feet again, eyes still stubbornly turned away from his companion, when he feels a hand wrap around his wrist with force. His gaze shoots back up and he sees Vash’s prosthetic fingers curled tightly around his arm, gripping him with far more force than necessary to keep him from walking away and never coming back again.
Their eyes meet again and they can see the panic that is reflected in both of their faces, naked and unobscured by emotional masking or false bravado. All pretence between them dropping away.
“Dance with me, Wolfwood. Please?” comes the request, at long last. Whispered to him with a voice so soft and so uncertain it makes his heart ache in his chest, makes his lungs feel like they are on fire.
Oh, how is a man to resist such a request? How could anyone turn down anything when it is asked of them with such desperate honesty? Supposedly, there will be people who can muster the strength for such a feat, but Wolfwood will never be one of them. He is but a weak, lovestruck fool of a man whenever Vash is involved. He lightly tugs at the wrist that is still held in a metal vice-grip and makes sure to smile at Vash, bright and honest, in a silently indication that he isn’t going to pull away from him entirely. Truly, breaking the contact between them is the furthest thing from his mind right now.
Instead, he turns his hand up once Vash’s grip on his wrist becomes loose enough to do so, and he watches the expression on his handsome face morph from confusion to flustered delight when he laces their fingers together instead.
“I would love to~”
With his heart pounding in his ears and their fingers still wound together tightly, Wolfwood pulls the two of them onto the improvised dance floor. Apparently their little exchange hasn’t gone unnoticed, because several of the other patrons around them are letting out cheerful encouragement as they join them in their midst. It causes Vash to blush so adorably, all the way down from his ears to his neck, that it makes Wolfwood want to wrap him up and keep him close for the remainder of the time he might be granted on this godforsaken dustbowl of a planet.
The music that is playing isn’t anything special, but it doesn’t have to be. There is no need for it when a far more important part of it all is right in front of him, fidgeting nervously with the hem of his coat and refusing to look at Nicholas now that they are here. He can feel a grin tugging at his lips again, his expression growing more teasing as he leans a little closer to Vash.
“Well? Didn’t you say you wanted to dance?” There is a challenging glint in his eyes, he knows there is because he can feel it vibrating all the way down into his core. He wants nothing more than to draw Vash out of his shell more, help him let go of the restraints that are clearly still keeping him from fully enjoying the moment. It probably helps that between the two of them they downed at least a bottle and a half of medium quality whiskey, which is enough for even their enhanced metabolism to at least feel somewhat buzzed for a while. If it wasn’t for that, he probably wouldn’t have dared to act quite so forward. Now that they have crossed this first bridge and stepped into this tentative thing that crackles and pulses between them, Nicholas can’t find the willpower to push his desires back down again. He aches for more, craves to have Vash’s eyes on him and him alone, to see that wonderful smile and know that he is the one that brought it to his companion’s face.
He knows he has made the right call in egging Vash on a little, when he sees that nervous little smile on his face turn into a challenging grin that matches his own. Sometimes all that he needs to get out of his own head is a good challenge to meet head on, and it would seem that impressing Wolfwood on the dancefloor has been deemed suitable to be exactly that. What is unexpected though, is how Vash suddenly reaches for him with both hands and excitedly pulls him along in the rhythm and sway of the music and the small crowd around them. One of Wolfwood’s hands ends up being held by Vash’s prosthetic and with a thrill he feels his other hand end up resting comfortably and warm, just above his hip.
Their eyes meet again and oh, there is that smile he loves so much. So bright and happy and true. He would do anything if it meant he could keep looking at Vash like this forever.
Together they laugh and dance, as if this is the last night that life will allow them to have together, without restraint and emboldened by each other’s presence so close to their own. For once they are blessed with a place that is safe and with people around them that laugh along with them, that appreciate their presence rather than loathe it. Instead of the sound of shots fired and bullets raining down all around them, they dance to the upbeat music played by a cheerful band up on the rickety stage. Time turns into a syrupy substance that stretches on and on as if there will never be an end to it, making it feel as if this night will last forever within this bubble that they are in together. Just the two of them and an eternity to spend, dancing together in each other’s arms.
At some point they end up with their bodies pressing much closer against each other as they move together to a softer, more gentle tune. The lull in the excitement returns some presence to Wolfwood’s mellowed out and still somewhat buzzed mind but he can’t find the strength within himself anymore to pull away. All this time he has been stoically convincing himself that he was seeing things, that all the tension between the two of them was just a figment of his lovesick imagination. Because, truly, that is what he has become thanks to Vash: a love stricken, bleeding heart of a fool.
At some point he wrapped his arms around Vash’s waist and pulled them closer together, which was met with no resistance at all from the other man. Before he can stop himself, Nicholas leans in a little and gently rests his cheek against Vash’s, nosing softly along his hairline as he silently revels in how soft those blond locks feel against his sand-roughened skin. Being so up close makes it hard to miss the quiet, yet sharp, intake of breath from the other man but Nicholas is too drunk on the way their bodies are pressing against each other to overthink any of it. The way they still sway along with the music is far too distracting and it does help that the man in his arms makes no movement at all to pull away from him.
It is giving Wolfwood that small sliver of courage that he needs to push further, past the last restraints that were still holding him back and beyond. Because he is done with denying himself this thing that has steadily been growing between them. He is done with keeping both of them from what they are so clearly aching for. Nicholas turns his head a little and, with his heart beating in his throat and with enough nerves to almost make him feel sick, he brushes his lips softly along Vash’s cheek. He feels the other man freeze up and for a second time that night regret and fear in equal measure, spill out from his cracked open heart. The touch was so feathery light that it was barely there at all and for a split second he considers the possibility that he can play it off, pretending that it was just his hair brushing along Vash’s skin. It tears him apart inside out to have to back down, but if his advances aren’t wanted after all, if all Vash was after was just to dance for a while, then that is enough. It has to be enough because he has no choice other than to accept the bitter cruelty of reality. For all his longing desire for the gunslinger, Wolfwood would never want to hurt him with any of this.
In his impending panic he hardly even registered that Vash is moving, until he feels two hands gently cradling the sides of his face in their hold, cold and firm against one cheek, warm and soft against the other.
“Nicholas…” There is no audible tone of upset in Vash’s voice, no clear signs of rejection in the way he looks at him when he gently, yet firmly, forces Nicholas’ eyes to meet his. Instead he looks at him as if he is the most precious thing that he has ever seen, with an expression so impossibly bright and full of tender happiness. The flickering lights from the nearby oil lamps reflect in his blue-green gaze, like a sea of stars as they explode across the night sky, leaving Nicholas to drown in those endless, cosmic depths. He is so utterly lost and captivated as his mind floats away alongside the myriad of flickering stars held within them.
“Blondie..I..” He stumbles over the haphazard start to a reply, only for Vash to break him off by closing the last hearbreath’s distance between them and brushing their lips together.
The kiss is nothing like anything that Nicholas has ever experienced before. It’s rapture and bliss, simultaneously the ends of everything and all of their subsequent new beginnings. An endless cycle of sensation that feedback loops through everything that he ever was, is, and ever will be. The feeling of their lips touching so soft and tentative, carries more meaning than he could ever hope to convey with feeble words. Kissing Vash feels like fireworks exploding inside his mind, setting his body and soul alight with vivid heat and colour and light.
He slowly pulls back, with a million things he wants to say, all balancing on the tip of his tongue. Words that all die a million tiny deaths before he ever manages to whisper them out loud. Because Vash pulls him right back down again and this time, when their lips meet, it is far less tentative and careful. Vash kisses him like he needs it more than breathing, like it is the only thing that is keeping him alive and Wolfwood is helplessly swept along in the current. Their arms wind around each other’s bodies again and they push even closer to each other, barely even aware of the fact that they are still very much in the middle of a crowd. Nothing else matters besides each other and all the perfect ways in which they are fitting together at last. Like jagged rocks, with all sorts of hard edges and sharp angles that somehow, together, can still form a beautiful crystalline whole.
It’s the cheering of the other patrons around them that snaps them out of their shared daze, awareness of their surroundings finally returning to them, right along with a borderline unhealthy dose of embarrassment. Wolfwood allows himself to take in the absolutely lovely blush that sits high on Vash’s cheeks, the rosy hue that is so very vibrant and full of life. He would give anything and everything to keep him blushing like this forever, looking so happy and positively radiant.
“Maybe we should get back to our room, hm?” Wolfwood whispers in his ear and he revels in the light shudder that he can feel running through Vash, as he allows his breath to ghost along the sensitive shell.
There is a breathy note to Vash’s voice when he replies, something that heralds both excitement and nerves in equal measure. “Maybe we should, we’re sort of in the way of the people who want to dance, aren’t we?”
Wolfwood laughs at that, soft and deep, and he leans back slightly so that he can look the other man in the eyes properly. Within his gaze he can see his own nervous feelings reflected, the uncertainty about what this means for them and where all this will go once they are alone in a room together. Instead of replying straight away, Wolfwood leans in again so that he can softly brush his lips over Vash’s one more time.
“Of course that would be the thing you’d be worrying about,” he mutters softly, a chuckle audible in his voice. “Come on then, let's grab another drink and head out.”
It isn’t until they are halfway back up the stairs and down the hallway to their room, that the reality of the situation properly sinks in for Wolfwood. They are still holding hands like a pair of giddy, lovey dovey teenagers and all at once he is hit with an overwhelming feeling of dreadful insecurity. It’s not like he is oblivious to everything that people get up to behind closed doors, he has been around the block a few times himself, but this feels different from any of those other times. Whatever it is that is going on between Vash and him, it is so much more significant in ways that he has never experienced before. Previous flings were generally good but nothing special, just some mutually beneficial pleasure shared between strangers who would never see each other again after a single night spent together. Just some stress relief and a good sort of headrush that could temporarily dull the painful harshness of lives lived in the unending desert.
With Vash though, everything is so monumentally different that it has his head spinning, leaving him feeling staggered and confused because of the sheer intensity of it all. He desperately wants this to mean more, to last longer than just a fun night together but he is still a coward at heart. He is still the same, pathetic little man who can’t admit to his own feelings unless it is all but tortured out of him. How is he ever going to be capable of conveying to his companion how important this is to him, how much all this means for him?
As if he senses the turmoil that is starting to boil over violently within the man walking besides him, Vash turns his head and smiles softly at Nicholas. “We’ll talk once we’re in our room, I promise,” he says with a gentle voice, words laced with tender affection. The soft, warm tone makes Wolfwood’s stomach churn with uneasy nerves, just as much as it makes his heart flutter and soar within his chest.
On the one hand he is grateful for how perceptive Vash is of his unrest, because it will make it easier to breach the topic once they are properly in private. On the other hand though, it will never cease to be uncomfortable to Nicholas how easily Vash sees through him with his sharp, aquamarine gaze. If he is truly honest with himself though, it isn’t as if he ever wants any of it to change. He is far too addicted to having Vash’s eyes on him like that, looking at him as if he is something precious, something worthwhile of his attention. It may not feel like he deserves any of that attention but he is in far too deep to let go of it now.
Once they are tucked away safely inside their room, the door closed and locked behind them, Vash turns around to face Wolfwood properly. He takes both of his hands and holds them gently with his own, his mesmerising eyes tender and warm as he simply looks at him for a quiet moment. Being regarded like this makes Wolfwood feel like he wants to crawl out of his own skin with uneasiness. It makes him want to pull his unworthy hands free from Vash’s gentle grasp and hide away from him, from being so wholly and completely seen by him. But he stays and holds Vash’s gaze with his own, far too worried that he will never get another chance if turns away from him now.
“Nicholas…” Vash begins, his voice soft and with a hint of insecurity wavering within his words, that mirrors the uncertainty that Wolfwood feels swirling in his chest. It’s a stark reminder to Wolfwood that he isn’t the only one who is afraid here, that both of them are struggling with this in their own way. Vash has just as much of a horrible track record with receiving genuine affection, as Wolfwood has. Both of them are clearly equally incapable of embracing any tenderness that is directed towards them. For as good as the Independent Plant is at doling out generosity and kindness in spades, he is just as awful as Nicholas is with receiving and accepting it in return, fully convinced that he deserves none of it. In that sense, they really aren’t any different from each other at all.
Nicholas gently squeezes their hands in a silent sign that he isn’t about to let go and braces himself to, for once in his life, attempt to properly and honestly speak his mind. He takes a deep breath and shoots up a silent prayer that his voice won’t end up shaking too much, because it would inevitably betray how much this is fucking him up on the inside.
“I know I’m gonna be absolute shit at this so please, just let me talk until I’m done. If I get cut off now I don’t think I’ll ever be able to find the words again.” Without pause Wolfwood continues to speak, barreling on before his mind can catch up to the words that spill from his mouth like a deluge from a broken water tap. “I’m shit at expressing my feelings and even worse at being honest about them, but this…Fuck, Vash this means a lot to me, okay?” He hesitates for just the briefest of seconds, voice sticking to the back of his throat like tar. The heat he feels burning on his cheeks betrays how brightly he must be blushing by now and it causes insecurity to cloy in his chest. He musters the courage to look up at Vash again, who has dutifully remained silent just like he asked. When their gazes meet he sees nothing but starstruck awe in the other man’s expression and it gives him that small sliver of courage that he needs to go on, to push past the discomfort of speaking so openly about himself and his feelings. He has to, not so much for his own sake but because Vash deserves to be told the complete truth.
“If it doesn’t for you, that is okay, I can accept that. I can-'' He swallows thickly, not wanting to dwell on that particular what-if for any longer than is absolutely necessary. “-I will just step away from all this and we can pretend none of it ever happened. And if you’d rather just have some fun and blow of some steam then fuck, yes I’m open to that too because Christ Almighty are you even remotely aware of how stupidly attractive you are?”
Wolfwood is barely even aware of how he has started to ramble and he simply barrels on, his gaze once again averted and heat still burning bright and hot on his cheeks. He barely even hears the strangled noise that Vash lets out when he calls him attractive with such naked honesty and he doesn’t see the flush that rises on his pale cheeks. The words just keep tumbling out, it is impossible to stop the outpour of his emotions now that he has allowed himself to give a voice to any of them.
“But you deserve to know how much this means to me, regardless of what you choose for this night to end up as. Which I will respe-”
Wolfwood’s voice is abruptly cut off when he feels one of Vash’s hands pull away from his own. Cold dread settles in the pit of his stomach but before he has a chance to react, soft fingertips are pressed against his lips with such gentless that it almost hurts. Almost hurts because it makes his heart clench in his chest and it ties his stomach into painful knots, tenderness stabbing through his very soul. But then their eyes meet again and he can see the starstruck gaze with which Vash is looking at him, so full of care and love that it steals the breath right out of Nicholas’ lungs. He looks at him for a moment that feels like it is never ending, eyes widening with surprise when Vash lets out a soft and affectionate laugh.
“I care a lot about you too and I feel very much the same way about where this is going. I don’t want this to be just one night spent together. I don’t want to have to wake up tomorrow morning and be forced to pretend that this isn’t anything more than just that.” Wolfwood wants to open his mouth and tell him that they don’t have to pretend about anything or, even better, lean in and kiss him again just like they did right in the middle of the dancefloor. Before he can do either one of those things, Vash slides his hand up along his jaw and gives a gentle tug, bringing their faces closer together again.
“Now,” he says, voice sounding a little rougher and with a renewed spark of heat woven in with the words, “I would really like it if you kissed me again and showed me just how much you care about me~”
Oh, how is he to resist such a request? Why would he ever even want to? Now that the air has been cleared between them, Nicholas no longer feels any reason to hold back. Now that he knows for certain that Vash returns his feelings in kind, there are no more reservations or doubts. So instead of making either one of them wait any longer for what they both so clearly want, he leans in tantalisingly close and whispers “I could never deny you anything when you ask me so sweetly…” before finally closing the distance between them completely and giving Vash exactly what he asked for.