Archive of Our Own

Vash was always good at taking when offered. He can resort to asking, bargaining or begging when it comes to things that technically, with more or less of discomfort, he could live without. Things that don't harm if his undeniable charm doesn't work. His friends would say he takes too much out of their pockets, and that he gives too much of himself in everything else. He's good at that too — giving out what he has. Someone has to atone for the sins his kin did to the humanity. With every scar, every hurried patch that saved his life, every stitch and loss — he's more and more distanced from his own body. And in his case the more distance the better.

He usually doesn't think too much about these matters, too focused in the rush of trying to both enjoy and survive everything that humanity has in offer. Though, recently the veil of disdain and fear he keeps around his own flesh is on heightened alert, sensing the danger in form of Nicholas D. Wolfwood. The danger that's sitting turned towards Vash at their bed with his bare legs crossed, head propped on one hand, other for the past minutes occupied with drawing circles on Vash's arm, a slack smile on his lips.

The smile widens beautifully when Wolfwood locks his eyes with Vash for who knows which time. Vash definitely doesn't know. He only knows the slight tingle of calloused but gentle finger at his skin and the way a black lock falls against thick lashes. He doesn't know if it's the charm of Wolfwood's beauty or the way he's so casually kind that woke in Vash something he's forgotten long time ago, but with each morning it feels more difficult to deny.

"You're staring at me like you're trying to see the soul through my eyes."

Vash wants to bask in this smile. He once again assesses Wolfwood for any sign of hidden doubt, a distance — his eyes never lie after all, it's a good method. Then, satisfied, he pulls himself up and leans closer with a smile that hopefully mimics what Vash sees before him. "Maybe I do?"

Wolfwood snorts. "Then drop it, there's nothing to find."

"Don't say that!" He backs up from a nearly-kiss. Does Wolfwood know how transparent he is with that second of alert when Vash pouts? Would he stop if Vash said that out loud?

Vash isn't ready to test that. He says nothing but ostentatiously and awkwardly "crosses" his single arm on his chest, forgetting his prosthetic is disjoined, and tries to turn away, earning a little chuckle. A firm hand grabs the collar of his shirt and yanks him back with definitely too much force for the intent. A yelp of surprise is muffled by the pressure of soft skin and the smell of tobacco. It's unpleasantly overwhelming at first, but so familiar that Vash leans into it instinctively, his only hand squeezing at Wolfwood's firm thigh for balance. A knee is digging into his hip, but it doesn't matter. Nothing matters much when Wolfwood hums pleasantly against Vash's parting lips and then again when Vash let his tongue slip in and explore.

It's good — the warmth of Wolfwood against his chest, his scent on Vash, his hand brushing through Vash's locks and another pressed to his side, the lips that can chew on cig with no mercy now all gentle against Vash's when Vash tries to find a way to work out of him another pleasant sound.
If only not for the growing knot of anxiety when Wolfwood's hand travels up and down along his side, fingers more or less intently lingering to the textures of his damaged skin, the metal patch on that one spot, the stitches that are once too hurriedly done to heal neat. With each second the fingers hesitate more until they rest on the most textured patch of scar and the grip weakens to barely touching. Even through the fabric of his sleeping clothes it must be bad.

He realizes he stopped engaging in the kiss, so he tries to correct himself, but Wolfwood already pulls away. His cheeks are flushed, heart pounding enough to reach Vash's ears, but the smile is long gone.

"Somethin' wrong?"

"Huh? Yeah!" Vash quickly assures, forcing himself to stop fixing on the hand still hovering over his side and smile reassuringly. Only then the question fully reaches his brain. " I mean No! I'm all-righty. Why?"

"You started to dissociate. Again."

Oh. Vash curls to himself sheepishly. Something dies in him at the sight of the most bummed expression he's ever seen displayed on Wolfwood's still blushed face. He can't bear this look, concern and accusation and disappointment at once and not for the first time since they started being a thing.

"I'm—"

"Sorry? No, not again. Stop that shit." Wolfwood gets from the bed, avoiding Vash's attempt on stopping him and instead knocking him face to the mattress. He sighs heavily, the edge to his voice the same tint of disappointment as when Vash gets hurt in a way Wolfwood sees stupid. "I don't want your sorry, Spikey, I want you to say when something's too much. And stop forcing yourself to pretend you enjoy this."

Clumsily getting up on one hand, Vash crawls back to the edge of the bed. "Hey, maybe it's not the same for us, but I like it, I like making you feel good!"

"But what about you?"

"What about me?"

Wolfwood digs the heels of his hands into his eyes with a growl, and starts to put on his shirt while Vash tries to find an answer to that vague question. Of course he knows what Wolfwood means but he doesn't get why is he so persistent. Vash is really alright with focusing on Wolfwood. It's nice, it's pleasant, it's… not-burdensome and not-whatever.

Wolfwood lights a cigarette, and finally looks back at him when Vash gives up on answering and gets up. "What feels good to you, Spikey?"

"I—"

They both jump in alert at the banging on the door. Wolfwood rolls his eyes and shouts that they're coming — the girls are waiting for them, and it is getting late. Vash sighs in relief, correcting himself to a sheepish smile when Wolfwood grabs his chin, squishing thumb and index finger into his cheeks and lowers himself to meet him face to face.

"You're not gonna escape me on this." And then adds louder, interrupting not so subtle whispers and giggles from the corridor: "Don't wait for us!"

"I'm not escaping anything. I just don't… It's complicated, okay?"

It wouldn't be the end of the world if Wolfwood changed his mind about Vash, of course not. It wouldn't be surprising too — even if Vash would give in and let himself relax around these matters more, nobody could look at this body for so long, then witness inhuman things it can do and still find it attractive, right? Even Vash was scared of Vash, and he wasn't a victim of everything that happened.
At least, the worst case scenario — Vash losing control, and Wolfwood seeing his Plant form from too close, and getting spooked or grossed out — is probably not gonna happen in the nearest future. He got better at controlling himself since these instinctual feathery flares started after he spent most of his plant powers trying to save the world from his twin.

But how to explain all these solid reasons to someone who doesn't feel good being only on receiving end of the deals? Vash can't help flinching when he forgets himself and his mind spirals to the way he's touched, and to the way he used to be touched long ago. Even if this man is worth trusting, he doesn't deserve to be reminded of the fear and anger Vash can sense every time people witness him.

They close the door and move towards the hotel's bar at a painfully slow pace. Wolfwood is clearly determined to torture him about the matter. Out of all the days, this is the worst moment to spoil each others moods, they both know that, but something must be bothering Wolfwood too much to let Vash go. Vash tries to spot the issue to focus on it instead of his burdensome habits.

Maybe other tactic, more definite and clear, would make it work. Vash points a finger, trying to sound more chill, more decided.

"Or, it's very very simple actually. I don't feel the need as much so it's not worth our time to—"

Wolfwood stops, arms crossed. "You saying you're not like… attracted enough to me?"

Vash feels like his soul is falling to the ground in chaotic folds like a dump sheet, right on this dirty hallway. He didn't know it's possible to look even more upset and here it is. For second time this morning, he isn't sure if Wolfwood knows how his feelings display on his face. He grabs Wolfwood's crossed arms, hunching so much under the weight of the accusation that he has to look up at uncomfortable angle to meet Wolfwood's face.

"You're literally the most handsome, beautiful, mind-blowing, annoying and lovely and kind person I've ever got a chance to kiss," he wants to say, but for some reason his brain feels all mushy, words escaping him completely at the sight of simple hurt in the dark eyes. He almost says I'm sorry again. Wolfwood, as if sensing what's coming, shakes his head just so slightly.

"How can you say that, Wolfwood…" Vash changes his tactics again and slides even lower against the beautiful, peeking above the crossed arms chest, a breathing proof he couldn't NOT be attracted to Wolfwood. His attempted accusation comes more like a plea. "You know it's not true!"

"Bullshit." Wolfwood growls, and steps back, forcing Vash to straighten up, hands awkwardly lifted midair. "I don't always get your little games, Spikey, but when you said you're… in, I believed you. You either don't believe my part, or you lied on yours."

Vash tenses, hands forming fists.

Oh, not the lies accusation. Vash lies a lot, but not on this matter. Not after all the emotional rollercoaster, not after almost losing everything. Not after for the first time in a long time he let someone so close and worked on guarding down since then. Not after he confessed Wolfwood, not after Wolfwood confessed back.
He has enough experience to remember how much it hurts when you let yourself feel more, be closer, and then be deprived from it all of sudden. Rejection is a hard landing fall, always.

"I can't lie because I don't know what do I like," he almost hisses. "I didn't have many chances and less that didn't scare people enough to—"

Something on Wolfwood's face shifts quickly, emotions Vash can't decipher. No, he's not gonna finish that. He's not gonna make it a pity party now, even if it's exactly what he fears — that Wolfwood's eyes will show no want, only fear, just like everyone at some point in the past. Luckily, Wolfwood doesn't pull his tongue, even if he looks like he'd rather go back to the room and force Vash to say what he has to say.

They look at each other in tension and then give a heavy sigh in unison, both rub their necks at the same time. Vash chuckles, maybe a bit dryly, and Wolfwood attempts a very cute pout, a perfect moment for at least temporary peace.

Vash decides to offer it first, forcing his voice to sound warmer. "We should focus on the job today."

"Right. Today. Just don't—" Wolfwood starts, but then shakes his head, hand waving dismissively. Vash couldn't be more grateful for this small mercy.

*

They get to the diner area arm to arm, arguments left behind the corner and not a single disgruntled huff targets Vash once they face public space, simultaneously focusing on quick checkup of the surroundings. Wolfwood splits from Vash to go and grab them coffee, and Vash smiles widely to the pair passing him at the entrance to the hotel restaurant. He laughs at the not-so-much confidential info that Major's getting a surprise for the celebration, and his smile doesn't fade when he turns towards the girls devouring their pancakes and nodding to each other, noses stained from the biggest portion of cream and sauces that's possible to order. Vash knows, because he tested these limits just two days ago. In his defense, he was very exhausted after all day of hunting and getting little laser stings, and pancakes in the hotel are really good, albeit expensive.

The sight of his friends lift some of the pressure from his chest and his steps immediately become lighter. He has reasons to be happy about and he needs to be more grateful and less pitiful, at least today.
After all, they are on a streak of adventures that let him and Wolfwood save the day without being involved in shit that would be reported in the media as another crime of Vash the Stampede.

Even after the Earth's first ships landed on No Man's Land and the… Apocalypse was prevented, smaller towns needed help with setting their life again. And Meryl, brilliant as she is, created an elaborate plan to warm Vash's public image so people stop chase and hurt him as soon as he escapes her watchful eye, as she put it.
Vash wasn't sure about the initiative at first — posing for cool photos is all nice and fun, but making him look like he's the hero of the day is a far stretch, even if him and Wolfwood took some moderately avoidable risks and worked really hard for days. It's the least he can do, after all.

Though, he appreciated kindness and care when it was offered to him. It was lovely how Meryl and Milly not only helped with the errands just as they did as insurance agents before, but then did overtime recording and writing relations from his good deeds. And in the end, it started to fruit bit by bit.
They aided the locals with hunting and dismantling hostile laser-shooting robots that someone smart found in the desert and triggered by accident. After last threatening machines were gone, they helped with rebuilding and repairing around the town. It was a busy month, this gig maybe the most demanding since they started their little mission, but Vash felt good with manual labor and sense of community he got included in.
Now, after nearly a month of collective work, they are about to enjoy well-deserved party sponsored by the Mayor, one that does not involve any bounties, threats or malice. And surely even Vash's poor luck couldn't spoil fun, he feels in his bones that it's going to be a good time. He's liked here, people patting his back, sharing gossip, reporting changes and commenting on how good of a duo him and Wolfwood are.

And speaking of his not very official but commonly recognized other half…

"Is he stealing my coffee?!" he stops half wave at the girls, half sitting at a free chair. Two heads follow his stare as he slides slowly to his seat. "Does he still think these good people may try to dose me…"

"He's been doing that for weeks now, you know that? Maybe even forever." Meryl shoots him unimpressed look, like she'd expected him to admit he's joking.

"Yeah, Mr. Wolfwood likes sweet coffee with milk sometimes, but he doesn't want to waste money and he knows you like it more than him! He's killing with two stones tasting yours and having his black coffee right?"

"You wanted to say killing two worms with one stone?"

Vash looks between the girls in confusion. A little sense of guilt creeps again to his conscience. Wolfwood's too sweet for this world, and he shouldn't sneakily save money on his own coffee.

"Maybe… Yeah! He's always so happy when he steals that sip and knows it's sweet enough for Mr. Vash!"

Vash feels his ears growing hot. He tries to process the wave of fondness, as Milly responds to his softness with cute smile and Meryl rolls her eyes but looks at Wolfwood with a little smirk. "Such a lovey-dovey he is, huh?"

It may be too much of sweetness for the morning, so Vash crosses his arms and chooses to look accusatory at Wolfwood, who walks towards them already and seems to connect the dots between the trio's faces. Vash appreciates the little sway of his hips as he maneuvers with two hearty filled mugs with such a grace like he's been doing it all his life. Wolfwood raises a brow, face of a guilty as charged but zero shame as he ostentatiously licks the cream from the edge of Vash's mug and sticks out his tongue at Vash.
Being used to smiling isn't always beneficial after all, Vash has to keep in check the fondness spilling from him as he forms a more exasperated face, and whines: "I can't believe I'm being robbed!"

"I'm just checking if it's sweetened!" In comparison to his upset face from before, now Wolfwood looks just charming, especially when this little mean grin finally is back in place of sulking. "I paid for it anyway, if its a problem I'll just drink them both"

Vash gasps, vision of losing his breakfast coffee and facing his own, nonexistent budget, immediately claps his hands in a praying gesture. "Thank you for checking up my beverage, my lovely kind b…benefactor"

Milly leans to Meryl and whispers very loudly "He wanted to say boyfriend, right?"

"One hundred percent. You're so helpless." Meryl shakes her head with the heaviest defeated sigh in store. Vash would comment on that, but he notices that one of Meryl's pancakes calls his name from the plate. He sneakily reaches towards the plate when Milly slaps his hand with heavy palm in an endearing gesture and squeezes it, lovely smile painting on her face as if she didn't just prevent pancake robbery.

"You don't need to be shy about your love Mr. Vash! It's good to speak about your feelings, besides you weren't actually alone when you kissed at that—"

"What?! When… What?!" Vash looks around, but no unwanted ear seems to be listening to the sudden revelation. Maybe more recently the comments on him and Wolfwood being inseparable good friends were more suggestive than they both thought, judging from how Wolfwood chokes at his coffee at the revelation.

Wolfwood clears his throat and, ignoring the cute blush that reddens his face, looks at Meryl with a raised brow.
"Well, we'll become even annoyingly open around you if you want as soon as you admit your situaphof—" Meryl, suddenly red, jumps to plaster her palm against his mouth. Coffee spills at the table, and Wolfwood loses all his grace, almost falling from his seat, exasperated groan and hands waving helplessly in the air. Vash and Milly cross their looks and giggle, fondness in the big girl's eyes warm and soothing against his anxious heart.

The rest of the day goes peacefully just like this. Vash finally gets to eat leftover pancakes after Meryl admits she ordered too much. Then, they help with rearranging one of the storage buildings so that it fits tables and bar, and packs with food. Everyone's excited about the evening — the first celebration in the town in months.

Everything is perfect… Only think that puts shadow on Vash's mind is how Wolfwood seems a bit distanced — not so much to look suspicious to others, but just enough for Vash to notice. He still kicks his shin back when Vash decides to poke him, and laughs at bold jokes from Milly, but Vash notices the short glances he often pays him are now different. Where Vash started to acknowledge yearning or fondness, now there's this kind of kicked puppy energy, maybe a little bit of anger. It pains him to respond with his usual smile, trying to keep the mood good enough so nobody feels uncomfortable around them for such a non grave matter like their private issues or worse, the always vigilant girls start to ask questions and get to conclusions.

Of course he's bothered, he would love to just speak to Wolfwood and get this over with, but between preparations and conversations Vash feels he's just… Scared. The only control he has over the situation is how much can he restrain his desires and maneuver around everything that may push Wolfwood away. It's scary to give this control away even if it would mean getting over with. He'd rather stay happy and as close to Wolfwood as he can for as long as it lasts. That's how Vash always dealt with relationships, each and every too short for someone as old as him.

*

The evening is cool as for how it can be on a desert planet. It's nice, though, since everyone gathered at one place and the breeze passing through the open door gives an invitation to take a breather.
Vash and Wolfwood stand near the entrance, Wolfwood nonchalantly keeping hand in his pocket, leaning to the wall as Vash crosses his hands behind the head and stretches, looking at the sky, gentle smile not leaving his face. The moons are at their least bright phase, so the stars and a glowing hive of worms passing somewhere high in the sky is the main show above. At their level it's the warm, bright light inside of the building.

So many people dressed in fresh clothes, chatting lively and waiting for the dinner to begin. This is what he wants truly — for these people to prosper and gather in joy. How many times in the past century he saw similar picture — connection with the kind of warmth that's filling eyes with tears instead of drying and parching the skin. And Vash is part of the joy, just as he was part of the work. Even if he's partially responsible for everything that happened in the past years, today he feels light and cheerful.

The smoke of the cigarette reaches to his nose and Vash steps to the side, but the next cloud reaches him the same. He notices that Wolfwood's puffing the smoke at his direction and he returns to his side, nodding his chin in encouraging gesture to speak his mind. Wolfwood shrugs, slack expression and pose showing he's just enjoying himself, even if his eyes scan the surroundings with no less vigilance than on any other day. Vash plants himself closer and elbows him by surprise.

"Damn you!"

"Always expect the unexpected!" Vash warns playfully and dodges Wolfwood's counteroffensive nudge, pretending not to see when Wolfwood aims and stomps on his foot in return. "Ouch!"

"Expect unexpected and don't underestimate me, Needles." Wolfwood locks his head in a real deadlock and lowers it to mess his hair. "Stop whining, I know you didn't feel shit through these shoes." He scolds without bite as Vash whines to be let go.

They both stop and freeze as the atmosphere inside shifts and some pleasant aromas reach to their noses and they hear the Major clearing his throat loudly, coughing and starting to speak.

"Dear Ferb Town residents! Since our party has already started and some of you are already… warmed up" The Mayor winks at the group loyally occupying the bar "Let me show you my gratitude for trusting in me again and for making our town beautiful and safe. The food we're about to try are made with ingredients of Earth origin, courtesy of the Earth fleet. Some of our well-known favourites with earthly twist is a good reward so, to not prolong, enjoy yourself!"

"Food!" They say in unison and instantly make their way between excited people.

The smell of the food makes his stomach growl. Vash looks around and shoves on his plate several pieces of everything, without paying it more mind that if it looks exotic and smells delicious enough. Fried and cooked and soaking in sauces, it makes him salivate already. He maneuvers towards the known faces from across the room, trying to avoid any elbow or hair to touch the sauce that tries to drip at the edge of the plate.

"Are you really gonna eat it all, Mr. Vash?" Someone makes a surprised whistle, for what he smiles slightly sheepishly without stopping. "Oh don't shame a young man for being hungry," someone else adds and Vash, to prove the point, grabs something that looks like potato pancake and fills his mouth comically, cheeks puffed and stuff. He earns his laughs and huffs, approaching the girls. He wants to sit and eat and get some more whiskey before the day ends, that's the plan.

"These chewy things are delicious, have you tried the mushroom goulash?" He starts, and for a moment he feels like something crosses through Meryl's face, some kind of frown. Was she judging his greed?

"Wait, these are mushrooms? They really got something special!" Wolfwood raises his brows and nods in appreciation.

"Come on, Meryl, this occasion is not gonna—"

Suddenly Vash pauses, and tries to clear his throat. He feels fire rushing through his throat down to his stomach. He coughs, confused, as his throat clenches at the last bite of food he so happily chomped a moment before. He lowers his plate and puts it on the table with a clank, sauce splattering around, and plasters a smile at his face as he turns on his heel to not make eating company watch him choking.

Then two things happen at once. First, whatever he choked on lets go, but his breath still comes in painful wheezes and somehow it gets even worse. Second — with a surge of cold panic he notices the tension on his skin starting to sprout the protective feathers. He grunts and tries to push it away, calm down against the panic and the itch that spreads from his face down his whole body. Tears blur his vision as he doubles over and makes his way somewhere, anywhere away. His pounding heart makes every other sound distant, and he barely registers who's talking to him.

"You okay Needles?"

And then a third thing happens. Something warm slides across his neck, missing the feathers by an inch and landing on his arm. Vash jerks violently, too startled to process anything but mix of flooding relief and sheer panic that it's Wolfwood. Of course it's him and objectively it's the best option to notice him in the crowd, but personally Vash wants to hide especially from Wolfwood right now.

A choked cry doesn't add well to the overall scene he's making: teary, red and clearly struggling to breathe. What the hell is happening? He coughs, trying to steady the little breath he manages, the voices around muffled and overwhelming as people realize something's happening. He reaches to his neck, trying to hide the most exposed sprout that could cause him the trouble if someone noticed. If it's not a sign he's about to explode and make even bigger trouble to everyone around. Someone pushes Wolfwood aside and judging from Vash's folded position while facing them, it has to be Meryl.

"We've t'go" he chokes out, trying to focus his vision and getting an exasperated gasp in return. It would be funny if in different circumstances.

"You're suffocating, we need to call for help!" Meryl looks around and orders something to people who instantly spread. He grabs her hand and squeezes, hopefully not too strong, and winces through the tears to look her in the eyes. When she looks at him, her own eyes widen.

"Oh."

Oh? She must see something in his face. It's getting bad. He has to go. Now.

Ignoring the ache in his throat and lungs that start to scream for oxygen, he pushes Meryl to the side and storms towards the door, hunching and folding and hiding his face in the high collar of his coat. He ignores whoever is trying to follow him. I'm sorry I'm sorry I'm sorry is all he can say in his head, squeezing at his flesh hand to make sure it isn't starting to sprout.

Vash doesn't know what else than Knives' influence can trigger his body to become the killing machine from his nightmares, and he doesn't want to learn. He leaves the stuffy and blinding interiors behind and welcomes the soothing cold of the night. Though, he doesn't stop here. He runs and runs and runs, through the least crowded streets, towards the outskirts. He sees stars from lack of oxygen, his eyes teary and swollen, heart racing, face hot. That little control he tried to hold on his body now too scattered as he tries not to trip over anything. No, if he doesn't want to… cause another catastrophe, he has to get a grip on his stupid body. And to get a grip, he has to be far enough to stop and focus on the wings that now sprout everywhere as he tries to remain conscious, swaying and stumbling but not stopping.

At the very end of the town, he finds some corner between a scrapped, forgotten workshop and some trash bins. He dashes to the spot and falls on his knees gracelessly, scattering sand and whatever dirt he lands on. He tears down the neck of his shirt, hissing at the pain where the material digs into his neck (these feathers shouldn't be so sensitive, damn it). The cool air and lesser pressure give some relief to his throat but he's still subjected to agonizing minutes of lungs cramping and struggling with no air. For a moment, the world fades in black and at last moment Vash opens his eyes with desperate gasp, realizing he couldn't tell if he was offline for one blink or for long minutes since the swell seems to subside slowly.

For a human it would be over, he realizes. Somehow it doesn't make him happier. Still squeezing at the material under the collar as if it could help ground him to reality, he heaves violently, not sure if he wants to vomit or cough. Anything that could make the breathing easier, anything that would cease the pain and heat and shock his body seems to be in.

He closes his eyes, leaning to the wall, and begging his body to not give in to the little surge of power that wakes up in his guts. He doesn't want "protection", he doesn't want any monstrosity his flesh could become. This is a nice place, people don't deserve to suffer because of him.
He curls to himself protectively, shielding himself and his right hand behind his tightly folded knees (and little sprouts that lean to his skin and clothes, and temples). Cold wall offers very faint comfort from the tingling. Little, labored breaths he finally manages to even are the only sounds he allows himself to make — nobody should pay attention to him and risk coming closer.

Vash has never felt like this. The feathers and wings are sprouted from his face, neck, hands, smaller and bigger wings are squished under the weight of his coat too. He wants to take it out because it's too much pressure, too much itch, but he doesn't want to be more exposed. His power is throbbing, that kind of pain that almost promises to be pleasant if Vash seeks for it — the same that happens when he's hurt and forces quick recovery against his volition. His senses get haywire, skin sensitive, his nose is running, heart beats way too fast for such a short run.
He doesn't know anymore if his hand is throbbing because it's gonna blow out this town, or if he's just imagining it. The pictures of ruined buildings and familiar faces covered in blood flash under his closed eyelids. He doesn't know anything but two feelings: the inner anger at… Something, maybe at himself, and the kind of despair he learned to dig deep in his guts and ignore — nobody can help someone like Vash the Stampede.

What could make him this… wrong? He didn't sense or notice any of his brother's goons that still appear out of nowhere and try to take their revenge on him. Nobody tried to contact him earlier and nobody tried to attack him now when he passed out. It doesn't make sense. Why was he suddenly triggered by eating food? Was he becoming even less human? Or was it some elaborate plot of the locals who only pretended they accept Vash…
No, they are good people, hard working and sincere. Why did he have to spoil that little celebration and startle them?

His fists clench, and anger squeezes new tears from his burning, irritated eyes. They worked so hard to make this work. He worked hard, and he thought he deserves to have a bit of fun. His friends are probably scared — they knew what Vash is capable of at least enough for that. He prays that they leave him be, that Meryl decided to be reasonable and stop Wolfwood from searching for him.

It can't be the case, obviously — those people are crazy enough to follow him for so long. He has to get rid of these stupid sprouts, these feathers, whatever the fuck he is doing, before Wolfwood finds him and realizes what he's gotten himself into agreeing to let Vash closer.

Alright, he tries to think. Alright, I need to stop thinking. Coat out, need to cool down. Why are the feathers so soft, is it a good sign or bad sign? Is this how they look when I'm not trying to shield? Is this normal for me or am I turning into another disaster? No, stop. My hand isn't throbbing, it's just pulse, I don't feel it in the prosthetic for a reason. I'm breathing, so it's okay. It's okay. I'm sorry. Sorry… No, I'm okay. It's okay.

His body behave like a hiccup — feathers start to retreat, and sprout back, all to the rhythm of ragged breaths. Between his pounding heart, faint voices somewhere in the town's center, a fluttering of worm passing by, there's just the cool silence and cooler air.

Vash can't feel how long he's cuddling to the wall , but long enough that his back feels stiff and the sense of his power trying to push him towards something he wouldn't want subsides. He takes a careful, deeper breath and winces at how dry and sore his throat got. He'd give a lot for a canteen of water. Or whiskey, for that matter. Maybe it would be easier if he had some booze before it all happened.

*

Eventually, the silence of the night breaks a stray dog, light trot turning to hesitant sniffing when it spots Vash. The dog circles him as much as it can in the alley, back tensed with fur standing on top of its shoulders. Vash spots a worn rug with a curled-dog-shaped spot. Is he scaring the animal from it's home now?

"Hey…" He tries, and barely stifles the cough that makes the situation no better, fire spreading at the length of his throat. The dog stretches its neck towards Vash, and Vash outstretches his flesh hand. His gesture isn't well received, a warning bark is all he gets before the dog leaves the alley quicker than it came. Vash lets his hand drop, and mumbles inaudible: "Sorry."

How pathetic look must he be to not be a good company even for a stray dog. He looks up, at the third moon peeking between the buildings, and dozes off with his eyes half-open. Only when the small shape appears at the edge of his vision, he looks down to meet his newly met friend.

You must be very fond of your spot, he thinks, and huffs to acknowledge its presence. The dog huffs back, with a short, complaining growl, and Vash never saw a tail wag that would look so exasperated.

"Sorry," he repeats, reflexively bringing up a faint smile. Dog doesn't seem to appreciate it, so he explains: "Can't stand up yet."

This time he retorts to whisper only. Against his words, he stretches and tries to stand up, but as if the world listened and decided he doesn't have it shitty enough, Vash feels a violent wave of nausea as soon as he gets up. His involuntary companion gives another annoyed little semi-bark, and another, each one louder than the other like it's trying to call someone. Vash really considers admitting his defeat and crawling out of the alley on all fours. Just when he slumps back on his butt and curls in nausea, trying to manage the salivating that can only mean one thing coming, he hears a distant curse and curses to himself in an answer. The dog hears it too, and instantly goes to the source, complaining barks and whines to anyone who could help it get rid of trashy pile of stupid feathers that is Vash. Rude.

He has precisely five seconds before Wolfwood stands before him in all his menacing glory and freezes just so close, the dog circling somewhere behind them, either proud or just eager to let the humans resolve the matter of unwanted company.
Vash curls to himself again. He knows Wolfwood's not gonna leave him like this, he's too kind for that. Some part of him expects it, though, and that part too often takes lead in his stream of thoughts since he admitted to care what Wolfwood thinks about him.

Wolfwood finally stops, digesting whatever he's witnessing. Vash feels a nudge on his calve, a small teasing kick. "You look like shit."

"Understatement" he mumbles, and hears agreeing Mhm. He feels tobacco and warmth, a nice yet short warning before someone grabs his bared shoulders and forces him to sit more straight. He tries to yank back, but he's blocked by the wall. The hands don't let go. They press onto the feathers, calloused skin on the strange, inhuman textures. An uncomfortable feeling about these hands rubbing his skin flashes his mind, and he shivers, struggled breath turns to a panicked sound. I've got too cold, that's it. That's what it is. Besides, Wolfwood shouldn't have to touch me. I'm sorry.

"You with me? Eyes open, Spikey."

Vash nods several times, touch both terrifying and grounding. Wolfwood finally lets go, but then he grabs Vash's chin and gingerly lifts it up, a disgruntled click of tongue as his thumb moves across Vash's throat to the torn turtleneck. "What you were thinking, Needles… You're not supposed to run away when you're choking."

Vash want's to reply, but Wolfwood and his fingers do something to him. Something that doesn't belong to a dirty forgotten alley when Vash looks like a half digested, sweaty, shivering monster. Something he's not gonna feel again, probably, exactly because Wolfwood is feeling what he doesn't see in the darkness and Vash can hear his heavy, stressed heartbeat when he retreats his hand completely.

"Thought… I'm danger" He finally manages, his half-whisper so hoarse he has to stop and focus every few words. "Don't know what's gonna—"

"We know what happened, and you're not danger. Probably."

Vash lets out a sigh of relief, but then blinks several times and gives a nervous eek. "Probably?"

"Woof woof!"

"Oh shut up, would ya! Thanks." A click of mechanism, a sparkle and well known smell of smoke reaches his nose before Wolfwood explains. "I'm not a plant expert, but if your allergies don't put some plant shit tantrums besides this, you're safe. Oh shit, sorry!"

Vash coughs, flash of too recent lack of breath widens his eyes and all efforts to make it more bearable miserably failing. He winces at Wolfwood briefly, a figure looming in the moonlight. "A— cough —lergies?"

There's a tssk of cigarette killed in the sand, and the smoke dissipates.

"You ate a mushroom soup Spikey. And I don't know if you knew, but Meryl said they tried to produce mushrooms back in the days but the plants either refused, or fell sick soon after every try. That's why there's no mushrooms on No Man's Land."

"I didn't know." Vash whispers, suddenly feeling the weight of this revelation. He isn't entirely immune to toxins and sedatives, but there wasn't a poison that could harm him as strongly as a human. At least until today. "Gotta be more careful with food."

Wolfwood huffs humorlessly, but doesn't respond. There's a moment of silence, and Vash is sure Wolfwood reaches to pull out the lighter and stops himself before the unlit cigarette, the thing he often does when he's not allowed to smoke.

When Wolfwood finally speaks, he puts the no-bullshit cold tone that feels like a splash of cold water against Vash's hurting head.

"What are you so scared of?"

"Erk?"

"Your eyes are shut, flinching under my touch, running away from us… I'm not stupid. Running from me?"

"From the people," Vash corrects, "but…"

Vash tries to swallow, chokes, winces in pain, and tries again. The tightness he feels now is not just the allergies thing, neither the skip of a heartbeat. It's anxiety, simple and heavy. He opens his eyes, and hot tears instantly fill them, blurring his vision. He rubs them off with a hand and looks somewhere below Wolfwood's head.

"I'm scared of what happens if you see… All of this."

Wolfwood racks his fingers through Vash's hair. His eyes seem so dark at night that it's hard to read him, but what follows takes Vash by surprise. Wolfwood leans low and yanks his head up so their faces meet, one finger tapping at his temple. "Did you hit your dumb head on your way here? I already saw all these stuff."

"Not when you're, when we're—" Not when I know how it feels when you're close enough to care if you stay.

"And I thought you don't want me to…" Wolfwood rubs his face, tired. "Were you playing all these clothed head-to-toe even in bedroom and behave like you don't want me too close because you're scared of me changing my mind?"

Vash remains silent. This sounds worse than he hoped when Wolfwood puts it that way. He has to explain, he wants Wolfwood to know it's nothing he did, just everything that Vash is. His heart pounds even quicker when he starts speaking his mind for the first time in weeks, afraid he's gonna jump up and run like a coward if he doesn't speak now. His voice is barely a whisper, and even so breaks every few words, but Wolfwood has good hearing.

"The last time I've let someone try and touch me, they were so turned off they left and never looked at me the same. And it was long before some of these… happened. I'm scarred, I'm different, and I don't even look human. I don't feel desire unless you make me do, I never learned how to keep someone close and I want you close, but I don't want you to regret or feel repulsed or—"

Wolfwood stares at him, frozen.

"You're so fucking dumb."

Hands grab Vash's head from both sides, Wolfwood's face now back leveled with his. Vash's lip tremble, so he clenches his jaw, but he doesn't dare to close his eyes again, even when Wolfwood moves his thumbs along his cheekbones, wiping of the tears that stopped at his stupid little feathers. Vash gives out a surprised "oh?", fighting the sudden urge to shift and lean towards the touch.He's sure the feathers stand out more and lean against the fingers that caress them. Why does Wolfwood's touch mess with his body so much?
Too sick and overstimulated to deal with everything all at once, he's almost glad Wolfwood takes his reaction for what it is — fear, not confused need.

"You think too lowly of me, Spikey. I signed up for a lot of scary shit in my life and this one, for once, is my choice. Even if you get scary, I'm not going anywhere."

I'm not gonna leave you.

"Wolfwood—" Vash can't voice anything else. He's gonna cry and he's gonna cry now. Everything in him screams to run before he dares to actually try and trust in what he hears. Though, he barely sits straight, so running isn't an option at all. Wolfwood pulls him closer and lets him bury his face under his chin. He pats his shoulder slowly.

"— Just stop running from me." he mumbles, and Vash nods, just once, because the nausea he tried to ignore now builds up, encouraged by sudden movement. He'll agree to everything this man says for now. "Even if you look like a pathetic fluffy—"

Maybe almost everything.

"Hey!" Vash straightens — again, too quickly — and any arguments against that offense die when he heavs so violently that he barely pushes himself to the side. Wolfwood throws an 'Oi' and then a 'Fuck' and then something else Vash doesn't register, occupied with the rest of his dignity leaving with the contents of his dinner. He's caught right before his trembling hand gives up and Vash was never this grateful from not going in contact with his stomach's contents. It clearly was something he ate, the fire in his throat begging for some water.

The disgruntled dog, who gave up on complaining somewhere in the middle of their conversation behind the trash bin, now very intently starts to growl.

"I think your vacation here is over, Spikey."

"Shit" Vash chokes out, trembling too much to sit on his own. His eyes are too dry to make new tears but he looks at Wolfwood with the most pathetic, tired look possible, shame ditched somewhere deep as he embraces the newly taught lesson of getting closer to Wolfwood. "I… I don't think I can stand up."

"You saying I should carry you like a princess?"

"Rather a fluffy pathetic chicken" he pouts.

Wolfwood snorts at that, some tension leaving his frame. Vash, after wiping what was left on his lips, can't help a smile either — too used to following the joy of people around, at making situation less tense. He really feels relief, though, something about the worst moment he waited for not ending as bad as he expected.
Something about stupid hope not being instantly crashed for once.

*

Picking him from the ground turns out to be quite a task in his current state. Once Wolfwood gives up on trying to put the coat back on Vash and just covers him with it, and finds the way to lift him without bending or pulling or obscuring his vision with any of the annoying sprouts, they slowly move towards the hotel. Vash swallows heavily, trying to let the cool air and steady heartbeat against his ear help with the sickness. Princess-hold is definitely not meant for carrying someone with overly-sensitive plant-feathers, that's what he realizes a bit too late.

"You're terrible at princess-carrying…"

"Thought you're a chicken — hey, your words!" Wolfwood smiles a very mean smile, and adjusts the load that is Vash in his arms. "Besides, you're spilling from my hands all the time. Should be grateful I didn't leave you with that dog. We pissed it off a bit."

"You wouldn't leave me, Milly and Meryl would kill you."

"I could drop you and carry like a sack of sand though…" Wolfwood seems to consider it for a moment until Vash shifts, handful of legs, hands and feathers trying to get a better grip when Wolfwood dangerously sways. "Stop it, or I'll bite next feather that lands on my mouth, pffh, pffh"

Vash almost lets a sound neither him nor his throat is ready to give when soft blows land on the feathers. He flinches so violently he has to mask it with a fake sneeze, which makes him almost fall from Wolfwood's arms. He looks at Wolfwood sheepishly, thanking the darkness for not letting out how red his face must be. What the hell?

For some reason, despite every irritation signs getting better, the feathers don't dissipate. They awkwardly puff and move and land around Wolfwood's chin and mouth, as if they're mocking Vash about how little control he has over his own body.
They never go out in a setting where they aren't hardened like a shield — never been exposed to soft puffs of breath and scratching of chin instead of painful bullets or a knife. Vash never wanted to show himself like this, he never saw them as more than a bad sign of bad things coming. How could he know that they can be so… Sensitive? Why does his mind flash him with visions of gentle touches that make him all fluttering inside? He feels like absolute shit, all itchy and burning and dizzy, just a moment ago he thought he's gonna blow this town or die, or both. Now he's trying to even his breath and not to make a sound when another shockwave tries to kill the rest of sanity he has and he's too aware of strong hands digging into his flesh, rubbing and pressing the feathers through his coat and…

"Stop squirming, dammit"

"You don't have to squeeze me that much" He complains, but gets his body to remain more or less still against the racing thoughts and fluttering heart.

"I want to make sure you don't fall."

Wolfwood's tone is suddenly so soft that Vash looks up at his face. He's fixed on the path before them and tensed in some worry Vash didn't notice all the time he fought with nausea and anxiety in the alley. Wolfwood doesn't react to his stare, but squeezes him stronger, like he's expecting Vash to really fall from his grip. This time Vash just lets his muscles melt into the touch, choking on any strange reactions.

"I was worried, Spikey."

*

They get to the hotel by the backdoor and Vash immediately hides his face in the coat, abused with light and noises. Milly cries out about how worried they were, warm hands grabbing his arm. Meryl resorts to simple "Vash!", relief with a tint of anger — reaction that always makes him go through mix of feelings between guilt and confusion. Though, it makes him perk up and steal a look from under his cover, only to be blocked by Milly's face and big blue eyes full of genuine tears pointed at him way too close for his comfort. He gives surprised "eek", trying to move away but it only wastes the rest of Wolfwood's stamina — or patience — and Vash is unceremoniously sat at the legs of the bed.

"Ay," he tries to protest, but the landing makes the world sway before him. He props himself at the bed frame and breathes a few times with a grimace "Rude…"

Meryl produces a whole bottle of water to which Vash gasps, moved by gratitude after long suffering. He forces himself to drink slowly, aching throat and revolution in his stomach still creeping at him.

"How do you feel?"

"Dizzy" he sticks to the half-truth. "But I'm okay, sorry for all the panic."

"You certainly don't look fine, Vash." Meryl measures him with her keen eyes, and Vash looks at her, trying to keep the smile plastered on his face. "Even if you survived allergy attack, your throat must still be swollen, you sound terrible. And smell like you've been hiding in trash…"

"Ay, Meryl, don't say that! Mr. Vash must know he doesn't look healthy if he was choking and vomiting, and sitting on the ground and has itchy skin and eyes and he cried and has all these feathers that he doesn't like to show ever!

"…Thanks, Milly." He mumbles, and Milly smiles cheerfully with a thumbs up, helpful as always. Vash looks down at himself, and he instantly regrets not putting on the coat before they arrived. Even if it would be uncomfortable and risky to push it against the delicate feathers under Wolfwood's gaze, he wouldn't be this exposed. As he focuses, he notices a stain that probably is dried vomit at the red sleeve, and not so nice pink patches at his exposed chest the skin peeking from the torn collar. He should hide to process the ultimate shame and pity his friends are witnessing, and maybe cover it with fresh clothes. "I should clean up. I'm a mess."

"Well, people take meds for allergy, you chose freezing in a smelly alley!" Wolfwood shouts from the open bathroom against the noise of running water.

"Well, rude and uncalled for!"

"That's the price for chickening out! Ah, shit," he adds more to himself than to Vash, who now has a new problem at hand.

"You look so soft now Mr. Vash even if you're all dirty and messy…" Milly moves her hand to rub it along Vash's arm and he shrieks and slides further on bed, away from her hand. Milly stops, confused, but then she smiles again. "Oh, you don't like being touched on the feathers? Does something hurt?"

"Oh, no, I'm really fine, I just—" Vash quickly moves back to his spot and omits her hands as he pulls himself up. His senses are coming back enough to stand upright and ignore aches and dizziness as he moves a few steps back, hands raised in calming gesture. At the corner of his eye he notices Meryl turning between him and Milly. Milly stares at him, assessing his face that may or may not turn a bit red at the ideas what could he learn about himself if someone who's not Wolfwood touched him now.

Milly crooks her head slightly, curiously. "Your feathers look different. Are you turning into a bird? Does that mean you only want to be touched by Wolfwood now?"

"Wait, what do you know about—?" He asks impulsively, surprised, and instantly regrets it when Milly takes a big breath to explain. His memory already catches up with some trivia he knew but didn't connect through the fog of allergy situation. He feels a cold wave of sweat, and he really would run, do something, if he wasn't focused on standing and pretending his legs don't feel wobbly and his stomach isn't suddenly threatening to do a flip.
Of course, Milly is completely oblivious about his distress, or she decides not to show it.

"Birds have very sensitive feathers on their body and if someone touches them it can be—"

"Irritating!" Vash exclaims, his voice pitching higher, which makes him get into series of coughing before he chokes: "If you touch me I'm gonna scratch and make it worse, won't I?"

Milly tilts her head to other side and for a moment Vash starts preparing his post mortem speech to God because she surely is about to dig his grave with the following words.

But Meryl, bless her soul, is smart. She looks at him and at cheerful Milly unraffled by the implication she's one step from voicing. The blush on her face surely matches Vash before she turns back to him with a deadpan face, hands on hips and all judging she can muster.

"Really Vash? After eating something that made you sick? What is it, a weird plant kink?"

Vash's face twitches. He still doesn't like being called… that. He still doesn't like being seen like this. And he can't just make this stop right? He couldn't even hide the feathers after the worst of the attack passed. He cringes at the thought he could be chickened like this for the rest of his life and he can't change the way his voice is defensive and desperate under Meryl's gaze.

"That's not how it— It's not about food it's just the feathers— It happened after!"

"What happened after?" Wolfwood emerges from the bathroom, the only one kept in complete oblivion. Vash does not want his man to learn about what he just realized in front of his friends. He starts to back up towards the bathroom and stumbles over his own coat that fell to the floor. Strong arms catch him up and luckily this time he's not distracted by anything but how the word still sways.

Milly sighs, suddenly disappointed. "You really look soft and nice with them Mr. Vash. I could pet you like a chick toma when you feel better!"

Vash gives out a stressed, shaky breath and now he can't help himself from wiping the sweat that starts to drip down his temple. He doesn't know if he's body tries to save him from more stares or torture him more but his feathers hiccup again and he doubles over, covering his mouth with a hand. Wolfwood steadies him against his chest as Vash breathes with closed eyes to calm down whatever is not agreeing with his body.

"A shame indeed" murmurs Meryl, and from the new distance Vash isn't sure if she's pitying him or making fun of his embarrassment.

"How can you be so cruel to a suffering man…" Vash mumbles as soon as the wave of nausea passes, and wriggles from Wolfwood's hold, trying to pass him and hide in the bathroom. He notices a quick movement of eyes as Wolfwood assesses something in Vash's face but Vash pretends not to notice. He smiles weakly, desperate to be let through. Wolfwood relaxes, a smirk appearing on his face.

"Seems you have it under control." He pats Vash's arm and Vash almost winces. "But you know what's gonna be more cruel?"

"Oh?"

"There's only cold water at this hour."

Oh.

When the door closes, Vash collapses to his knees, thanking the fate that the toilet is open. He is not having it under control. After he heaves the last contents of his stomach and shakily washes off tears, dirt and drool from his face, he collapses in the shower, hand weakly holding to shower head and sprinkling cold water on his face and shoulders.

Mushrooms, huh… Delicious sly bastards.

He hears the echo of conversation behind the wall, but he doesn't bother to tune in and listen closely. He doesn't notice when girls leave and only realizes he dozed off when Wolfwood swears, entering the bathroom and closing the stream of water. Vash doesn't protest when he feels washcloth rubbing at his skin, maybe not as gently as he would like on the irritated skin but gently enough to make him relax. He gives up and looks at Wolfwood in the most pathetic way, hoping it will work as a thank you and an apology.
When he's pulled up, dried and carried to bed, the feeling from before, the overwhelming warmth chokes the breath in his throat. Wolfwood, the man he is… He didn't get scared of him and still cares enough to fix his pillow, tuck him in the comforter, give him more water and some medications… Hot tears trail new tracks on freshly washed face, and he rubs his face against the pillow to wipe them off.

"Oi, Spikey. No need to cry." Wolfwood huffs, and hesitates for a moment, before he leans in, moves flattened strands of hair from Vash's forehead and places a delicate, slow kiss, one of the most soothing kinds of kisses Vash ever received. When he straightens away, Vash lets his theatrical cry out, maybe just a little bit to mask how much it moves him. He looks at Wolfwood with exaggerated pout.

"How can I not if you're being so sweet to me? You're so good Wolfwood…"

"Have to do something for you once in a while, don't I?" Wolfwood trails his finger down Vash's cheek, his eyes tracking the trail, lips forming a mysterious smile that he instantly changes to a smirk once their eyes lock. "Rest, chicken princess."

Vash huffs, offended. What's with the nickname, he doesn't want it to stick to him now even if he obediently closes his eyes. He wants to ask about this strange little smirk — he knows something's up in Wolfwood's head, but he feels so shitty that he gladly puts it for later, safe and sound under his man's watch, letting the wave of exhaustion claim him to slumber.

*

Vash was always good at taking from others. If he's in dire need and others could provide without getting in danger, he'll tuck his guilt deep inside and grind it and shape into gratitude as much as it's needed, until he himself believes that his thanks are received.
What he's not used to is someone fussing over him the way Wolfwood does when he decides to stay in the town for another two weeks. Milly and Meryl agree to the plan without a second blink and however Vash believes it's their need for a vacation speaking too, he can't stop noticing how they coddle him, forcing him to visit doctor, and to stay in bed way longer than someone like him would need or want.

Though, he indulges his friends, and maybe a little bit himself — being poisoned by something that could kill his sisters was scary no matter what a brave face he could put up.
Besides, it seems like Wolfwood has an extra agenda when he attacks Vash and pulls him back to bed, hands traveling more and more freely throughout the fabric of Vash's sleeping clothes for what Vash laughs nervously and tries to let go of the anxiety that still lingers to him.

"What are you doing?" He squeaks when Wolfwood tickles him at a particularly mean spot. Wolfwood's cheeks are slightly flushed and he seems to wait for something.

"I'm desensitizing you to the horrors of being touched."

Vash complains, but doesn't stop the wandering hands. Maybe Wolfwood's just not mad anymore at Vash's avoidance before the incident. He leans, their foreheads meeting before he tilts his head to kiss Wolfwood gently. He really works on relaxing to the touch. It's nothing bad, and he promised to put his trust in Wolfwood.

After he start to feel completely fine and long after his Plant sprouts dissipated, Vash realizes he's not gonna fully recover from whatever happened between him, and Wolfwood's effect on his feathers. He doesn't think about it too often, just as he doesn't think about anything related to sex. But as soon as Wolfwood touches him, slowly drags his fingers along Vash's arm or moves to "desensitize" him, Vash notice the well-known itching at his skin, his power making a twirl somewhere at the edge of his perception. Never before was it this difficult to not indulge and let it all out on full display.

Vash starts to think about the problem when he strolls, as he eats more spaghetti than he probably should, between the shots with locals at the bar and when he's being dragged by ear from said bar by Meryl who claims he's not supposed to drink for at least few days more.

He mulls it over for a week, Wolfwood's antics clearly meant to push him towards something and Vash trying to find a way to tell his partner that he may have a thing about being human-chicken biblical monster in bed that may not exactly align with Wolfwood's drive towards his mostly human shaped, even if a bit damaged form.

He thinks of it at that evening when they get to their room earlier, at Wolfwood's request. After being pulled to sit on Wolfwood's lap, face to face. He deepens the kiss, letting out a little low hum for which Wolfwood's eyebrow twitches in surprise, earning a little huff against his mouth. Vash didn't expect to get more lost in it too, but as he tries to focus on how warm Wolfwood feels, the pleasant feeling of want starts to form somewhere inside. It goes along the deepening kisses, and down his body, flooding his stomach with fluttering, spreading to his skin and making it prickle, tempting him to try and feel the touch that made him so confused that night. He almost loses it, when a hand grows bold and grabs his ass, knitting gently through the leather pants. Vash jumps in place and yelps, surprised. Wolfwood looks at him intently.

"You're teasing me!"

"Mmmhm. 've been for some time."

Vash looks at him in disbelief, mouth agape, ignoring the little strand of drool that connected their lips a moment before.

"What? Maybe you finally start to answer what you promised at the party day." Wolfwood grins, no bite in his tone but some kind of expectancy, again.

"I promised?" Vash spits words before he stops himself. There was definitely some unsaid agreements between them. Like admitting he's not avoiding the subject.

Maybe it's the right moment after all. He leans further from Wolfwood's face and scratches his neck, blood reaching to his cheeks.

"About that… There may be something that maybe, just maybe may pass as the answer to your question…" He bites his lower lip, looking around for inspiration how to put it in words. Wolfwood, to the contrast from his previous flushed smirky face, looks at Vash with the most deadpan expression someone can do when they very poorly hide sparks in their excited eyes.

"Do you want me to touch your feathers again?"

"What! Wh— How?!" Now he sees the satisfied smirk saying 'nailed it'. His hands drop to his sides, and voice betrays him, showing defeat. "You asked the girls."

"I asked the girls. They didn't dare to tell me more than vague answer, Meryl was red as tomato anyway. But I decided to find answers myself."

"About what?! And where, they don't have any libraries here… Or do you mean? No you did not… So you knew."

Wolfwood nods slowly, wolfish grin still on his face. Vash suddenly remembers all the moments Wolfwood looked at him expectantly and prodded and tickled and caressed his skin, smiling with satisfaction when Vash shivered even though he never pushed past touching him through the clothes and did nothing against Vash's will. Vash remembered how lately his feathers urged to be released whenever he got more intimate with Wolfwood, teased with slight petting and not getting full pleasure. And Wolfwood suspected it all the time. Vash swallows the rest of his shame and accepts his defeat with dose of relief.

"At least I don't need to explain what monster do I want to be in bed. Right?" He chuckles nervously, looking at Wolfwood for a sign that he just confirmed what Wolfwood needed — a reason to say he's actually not into Vash anymore. But Wolfwood makes this fond-though-slightly-exhausted face and squeezes where his hands remain, which means at Vash's ass.

"Not gonna back up now, Spikey. I want you as you are. Even if what you like is being a—"

Vash covers his mouth and makes a miserable face "If you call me that one more time I'm not letting you closer ever."

"So I have a chance if I promise not to?" Another hopeful squeeze and Vash leans lower, closer to push Wolfwood towards the bed. Wolfwood's smirk seems to have its own taste among all his states and expressions, something sweet among the bitter nicotine, smoke and sweat. Something Vash really starts to feel weak for. He braces himself and looks at Wolfwood down, anxiety clenching at his heart but losing to fondness at the hopeful, impatient look that makes this man charmingly youthful despite all his rough edges. Vash nods, and tries a smile, then parts his lips and resists the urge to chew on them, he finally makes the words come out his mouth.

"I— Are you sure you want this?"

"Spikey, I'm grabbing your butt as we speak, it's me who should ask if you want it to go further. My soul is already sold."

"And here you said you don't have— Ow, ow, no, I yield!"

Wolfwood's ruthless when he knows how and where to pinch. Vash bursts in uncontrollable fit of giggles as Wolfwood pulls him to lay on his side. He doesn't listen to pleas until he accidentally pinches on the improperly healed scar and Vash ow-s a bit too seriously. He quickly raises on his elbow and grabs the hand that tries to back up. Suddenly he feels a little bit sweaty, a little bit dry at the throat. Wolfwood waits for him as Vash clears his throat, and eventually gives up with words and starts to take off his sleeping shirt, slate-blue eyes fixed on his every movement as he blushes like he was never seen before.

Wolfwood moves to sit between his legs, looking at Vash as he takes a deep breath and rests on the pillows. He stretches his leg so that Wolfwood lands kneeling between them, still devouring what Vash offers being at full display.

"If I'm doin' somethin' wrong, tell me. Clear?"

"As the sky." Vash salutes playfully. "I'm all yours today."

He has to use all his power to close his eyes. His other senses instantly catch up, sensitive to the way Wolfwood position shifts between his knees, his warmth not yet close enough but already threatening at the edge of perception. He realizes he's holding breath when Wolfwood calls him out, a slight amusement to his voice.

Despite how aware he feels of everything, the little peck on his cheek feels all too sudden. He giggles nervously — it's just a kiss, and a very innocent one, why is he already being weird? But Wolfwood huffs disgruntled at his sheepish expression, his nose tracking a line that warns Vash of his next goal. Suddenly the skin on his neck feels tender, a wave of warmth spreading down to his chest as Wolfwood huffs against the delicate skin next to his Adam's apple, kisses a little to the left, then inhales heavily and places another kiss right under Vash's ear. Vash squirms, a little ah leaving his lips when Wolfwood moves to kiss the edge of his jaw, one, two three kisses leading him to Vash's lips.

"How can you smell so… Good?" the raspy voice interrupts their half-kiss and Vash can't help but looks straight into the slate-blue, half covered by thick lashes.

Wolfwood watches him so intently that if Vash wasn't blushing before, now he feels how the pink blooms on his cheeks. He closes his eyes again, and presses himself a bit more against the man as if to hide under the lantern. Their tongues meet in well known dance, hand reaches to run through Wolfwood's hair.
They do it for a while, just the kiss and Wolfwood's palms that rest on top of Vash's spread thighs. The fingers dig a little, like a reminder Vash definitely doesn't need — he's all too aware of every point where their bodies make contact. The hands move up his legs, slight pressure through thin material of his sweatpants lessens on particularly distinct scars. Vash bravely fights the urge to back off, but he can't help a little jerk when Wolfwood stops at his hipbone.

"Hurt?" Hand instantly moves when Vash nods shyly.

He repeats to himself that this is why Wolfwood is hesitant around the scars — because scars hurt too, and not because he's disgusted by what he feels.

When Wolfwood eventually moves from his face, Vash exhales slowly, dazed. For the first time in god knows how long he consciously lets himself focus on the tension building in his body instead of averting it. Every spot of his unscarred skin makes him fight between tensing and melting. His skin starts to prickle, all impatient and somehow unsatisfied despite how overwhelmed with everything he is.

Suddenly he remembers why the touch was always such a complicated matter to him. This is the point he never crossed before another person and his heart flutters uncomfortably when he reaches to push Wolfwood gently.

"If you continue I might… Oh, not— I mean the wings may sprout!" He makes a panicked gesture when Wolfwood eyes him downward in surprise before the realization hits and he quickly glances back up, very red. Despite embarrassment he grins with this catlike wince, spreading his hands like he's inviting Vash to enjoy himself.

"Spread your wings, Angel" He says, and against his slightly too-enthusiastic theatrical tone, Vash gasps. The way Angel forms on these lips make jolts right through some string in his heart he never expected to discover. Wolfwood instantly catches it. "You like this one, hmm?"

"Not sure, say it again?"

Wolfwood chuckles, but obliges: "If you need it, Angel."

His skin prickles more and it doesn't work well with the distance between him and Wolfwood's hands. He wants, he's not sure what exactly, but he wants. He feels the power stirring, feathers sprouting slowly and shyly like never before, with the steam that surrounds him enough to make Wolfwood shift in place, hesitant. Trust, he reminds himself, because Wolfwood promised he's alright with Vash's inhumanness.

And that promise wins. His body deflates like a balloon that loses its steam. When he makes sure the stirring, pressuring sensation at his lower stomach doesn't itch for anything else than whatever is coming from Wolfwood, the feathers and wings envelop him in all their glory.
How tight he had to clench his body in check for all this time if the level of relax now is almost uncomfortable? A shockwave shiver runs through his body when he sinks into the cushions.

These feathers aren't exactly feathery, not always. When he's in danger they can resemble long leaves that harden and shield. But now, in confinement of their room, he feels a gentle breeze coming through the softest of them, tickling like goosebumps. He shudders with a breathy moan.

"Oh Lord…" Wolfwood says slowly.

Vash freezes. All relax, gained but a moment ago, dissipates in familiar waves of anxiety. Vash's heart stops for a second, eyes snap open.
This was a bad idea. This is definitely a bad idea.

"I'm sorry I-" he stutters and stumbles, trying to roll to the side. He wants to crawl out of Wolfwood's reach, out of his gaze, until the stupid stubborn sprouts dissipate and they can cancel their plans, go about their evening and pretend it all never happened.

Wolfwood's hand grabs his, snapping him out of the zone. He tangles their fingers and forces Vash's hand to the side, slightly above his head. Other hand lands on his chest firmly, digging him to the bed.

"Erk?" He manages stupidly, grabbing his forearm with prosthetic hand but not making an effort to actually push Wolfwood away. Something in the firm hold makes his racing thoughts stop.

Against his words Wolfwood is… still looking at him. Still staring at him, even. His face is flushed, his hand steady and almost painful against Vash's rapidly working chest.

"Get out of your head Spikey." Wolfwood leans so close that his breath reaches Vash's face, two dark eyes piercing through him and all Vash can do is stare back and blink, and try to steady his breath when the hand on his chest releases itself from his hold and moves across his ribs, across the softest of feathers. "Still not scared."

"What— Aa—ah?"

Hand grabs at the base and slowly moves up along the wing, fingers brushing the feathers, thumb gently pressing on the other side. Vash's back arches up, his eyes go unfocused as the dizzying sensation doubles from the following touch on his other side. He can't help the embarrassingly soft whimper that he quickly muffles with flesh hand, head snapping to the side.
Wolfwood only chuckles, cruel, but before Vash can shoot him an angry stare he feels his weight shift. Wolfwood slides his right hand under Vash's head, locking his arm between their chests and keeping his head angled when he licks up along the tendon. Vash jerks and tries to down his chin but he can't move.

"Wolfwood" His voice is shaky, the name comes like a question.

"Not scared," he murmurs in response, straight to Vash's ear. He teases at Vash's earring with tongue, keeping his head propped in place. His left hand still plays at Vash's side and back, traveling between wings that lean towards the touch, giving out any rest of dignity Vash tries to hold. Sensitive like he never been, he twitches with every brush and touch, Wolfwood exploring more confidently and humming to himself when certain spot makes Vash choke on his breath. "Want more. Want all of you."

The words catch Vash's heart in a tight grab, previous anxiety melting like a wax with the heat of his skin. He wants Wolfwood to take everything, he'll give him everything Wolfwood asks for and more. He tries to say something when Wolfwood sinks his nose between his folded arm and exposed neck and inhales heavily once, twice, and then bites at the neck again, sucking with a sting.

Vash squirms, pain mixing with pleasure. He instinctively tries to escape, prosthetic weakly reaching to push away, but Wolfwood's hips secure him in place from the other side, his struggle only earning a surprised grunt when their hips meet and Wolfwood's erection rubs against his. And shit, it feels too good. It feels not enough. Vash moves his hips to the rhythm of Wolfwood's heavy breaths, and Wolfwood mumbles his name, his name, fist squeezing so hard that Vash yelps and jerks from the kiss.

"Sorry, shit, sorry." Hand moves away from abused sprout.

"These things are supposed to stop bullets" he grins, wince gone even before the pain. He's too aware of the lack of the sweet pressure against him to linger on discomfort.

Vash grabs Wolfwood's lower back to pull him even closer, forcing his knees to give up and let his full weight lay against him with enough force to remind Wolfwood that if he wanted, he'd free himself long ago. Smugly, he notices Wolfwood giving a little oh at the display of power, so he squeezes his other hand free and plants it on the other hip.
It's still not enough, Vash grunts with frustration and rolls them over with the same force, now Wolfwood's beautiful, wide eyes stare up at him when his head hits the pillow. Vash doesn't wait and grabs Wolfwood's hands by the wrists, pinning them at the sides of his head as his hips move with more force, knees spreading apart. His wings stretch wide, power pulses somewhere under his skin and as he leans for a kiss, he feels his fangs sharpening just so slightly. Wolfwood swallows heavily, and Vash stops.

"Scared yet?" Vash asks, voice suddenly more hoarse. He releases his wrists.

"You…" Wolfwood opens and closes his mouth, eyes moving between Vash's lips and eyes. Finally, he reaches to Vash's cheek and rubs along the feathers, just like he did when Vash cried in that alley. He focuses on Vash's eyes and finishes slowly, like he forgot any other words he wanted to say. "…Hot."

Vash huffs, barely masking the effect this bullet gets on him, reassurance of the caliber that cracked through the wall of his doubts several times lately. He closes his eyes, trying to store this feeling somewhere before it distracts him completely from the hot aching need for more Wolfwood against his skin.

"You're being so good to me..."

He doesn't expect a panicked sound Wolfwood chokes out in response, turned into a frustrated growl. Surprised, he blinks and lets himself be rolled back down. "Are we gonna roll back and forth like this? I thought we— Oh, uh, Wolfwood?"

But Wolfwood doesn't listen. Instead, he shifts further and further from Vash, who raises on his elbows to watch the hands moving along his sides, lips moving lower and lower, panting breath interrupted by gentle licks at the dips between his abs, where little trails of sweat gathered. Vash breathes shakily, previous train of thoughts lost when his stomach tenses at unknown softness, anticipation when Wolfwood's beautiful nose moves along his happy trail and stops, fingers catching on the edge of his sweatpants, so close to his dick that it twitches in anticipation. Wolfwood finally raises his gaze to meet his.

"You're driving me crazy. But if you ask me one more time—" Wolfwood moves to slide from the bed, hands letting go just to pull his hips closer to the edge. For a moment Vash thinks he's going to let go. He doesn't want Wolfwood to ever let him go.

"I'm yours." He whispers, and raises his hips just enough to let his sweatpants be pulled down. He lies, completely naked and exposed. Giving control is scary, Vash rarely can let himself this luxury. However, even less often he feels safe doing so — like he does now.

His fang catches on lower lip, as Wolfwood gives little surprised sounds at his discoveries. Four stamens unfurl from his dick, moving to rub against the rough fingers that now hover painfully shyly at his cock. Wolfwood rests his other hand at the point where hip connects to the groin, his thumb brushing along the folds — petals — and they unfold too, exposing his entrance to the cool air.

"Not what you expected?" He tries to sound playful, not like he's really close to begging Wolfwood to stop teasing him or he's gonna cry.

"Just appreciating art." Fingers gently, very gently brush at the biggest of petals that lean to the touch and make Vash barely hold a sob as he raises his legs in a futile attempt to find any support to dig his heels in.

Okay, he's gonna beg.

"I'm gonna scream if—"

Wolfwood shoots him the shittiest grin possible. "Promise?"

And, without a warning, he licks along Vash's entrance up to the tip of his dick. Vash's breath hitches, but Wolfwood completely ignores this. He sounds almost dazed, surprise mixed with hunger. "Jeez, Spikey, you even taste sweet." He repeats the move, hands pressing to both sides, brushing against the tips of petals and teasingly pulling them more apart to the rhythm of Vash's squirming. "You're so good" he circles his tongue around the shaft, then sucks on the head and takes it deep in.

Vash jerks up, electrostatic shock crosses his body and makes him reach in panic to stop, to push Wolfwood away. He finds purchase in dark locks, other hand squeezing at the bedsheets as Wolfwood moans around him and starts bobbing his head. Vibration makes the stamens move and press against the hot lips until Wolfwood allows them in, tongue instantly toying with their anthers and making Vash so lightheaded he has to lean down. Shit. Shit.

The slick from his cock starts to drip down Wolfwood's chin, cold and teasing at the top of thin line. Wolfwood hums, and gathers the fluid, spreading it down and humming again when Vash's hips twitch against the touch. He slides one finger between the last furled folds, then adds another. He moves them in and out, with each move reaching slightly deeper.
Through the fog of bliss, Vash frowns, feeling a tug of discomfort. He tightens muscles when fingers try to spread inside. He giggles nervously and reaches to put his palm on Wolfwood's arm but he's already out and back to caressing Vash's petals from the outside.

"Guess I'm sticking to the dick?" Wolfwood mumbles sheepishly, hand firmly caressing its base.

"Not for long" Vash pants, thrusting into the grip and grunting when Wolfwood gets the message and… takes his hand completely, sudden lack of stimulation making Vash whine in complaint. Wolfwood teases his tip with a finger, a meanie he is, and moves his face down, nose pressing to the petals. Vash would squeeze his legs shut if he could when he realizes Wolfwood inhales deeply and with intention. "What are you…"

"How can you smell so good?"

Vash feels like he heard this question before, maybe long time ago, maybe just a moment. He still curls to himself, but Wolfwood pulls his legs up on his arms and closes his face to the hot flower even more. He gives kitten licks at the petals, kissing some spots and squeezing others between his lips, not daring to bite.
Vash's blood boils at the twirl in his guts, the tension that makes him desperate for something. His wings and feathers feel tender, vibrating in pleasure he couldn't describe to a human, every little shift making him feel light and tender. He's grateful for the firm hold when the sensation feels not enough and too much at once. He chokes Wolfwood's name, with every approving hum and grunt between his legs, his shame too distant to stop little, desperate moans as caressing becomes more intense.
Wolfwood tries his luck again, tip of the tongue sliding between the folds. The feeling is so new, his it sends pleasure up to his cock and Vash can't help but reaches to stroke himself, desperate for friction. Wolfwood pauses, and Vash expects him to interrupt, but he resumes to his task with even more vigor, lips pressing in a kiss against his hole and sucking and blowing and…

Vash desperately kicks Wolfwood's back with a heel. "I'm gonna… Nngh, Wolfwood… Nick— Aah—"

Vash was overwhelmed with pleasure earlier, but now it peaks so much he just knows he's on the edge. All he can think about is the way Wolfwood moves between his legs, and the urge to pull him up and kiss him and taste his own taste from his lips, this teary face to rub against his cheekbone, leaving Wolfwood's scent on his feathers, looking at these lovely, dark eyes and…
Wolfwood, just Wolfwood.
His sinuses painfully tense, something squeezing at his throat. Then, his back arches so violently he almost pulls Wolfwood off balance, a surprised sound reaching through the fog as his release shots in few jerks of his hips and gasps of relief that may or may not border with cries. Vash falls limp on the mattress, eyes blinking out the tension at his sinuses that for some reason grows stronger when he feels gentle hands rubbing his thighs, lips still kissing his sex through his orgasm, Wolfwood mumbling something that doesn't reach to him completely at first, not until Wolfwood pulls himself up and hovers over him.

"…Alright?"

"Wolfwood…" He manages, blurry vision of the most handsome, beautiful, sweet human so close to his face. "…Wo-olfwood" he adds, word stuttering as his clenched throat turns it into a soft sob. Oh, so that's why Wolfwood seemed so blurry. Vash weakly reaches to his face and wipes the tears blurting out, again: "Wolfwood."

At this, Wolfwood snorts. "Any other words you'd like to use od did you lost it halfway through?"

"Hey!" Vash hits him weakly, then grins himself, before he realizes what was said. "Wait, halfway?"

"Well, the little things did something to your cum and…"

Wolfwood slides his hand down, and Vash wants to protest, his spent cock sensitive and wet, but Wolfwood's fingers rest between his petals, teasing at the smallest ones, the ones that were furled just a moment before. Wave of pleasure instantly hits somewhere deep inside his stomach, the want flaring again, and Vash thoughtlessly pushes his hips to urge the fingers in. This time, Wolfwood slides in effortlessly, Vash's release relaxing him and covering in enough slick that it feels… Not enough.

His feathers twitch and lean to Wolfwood as Vash turns to pull him by the shirt, suddenly realizing that Wolfwood was, all this time, almost completely clothed. He attacks the shirt, frantically setting the most beautiful chest in the world free to his fogged with tears eyes, pulling Wolfwood closer, squeezing at the muscular pec with one hand, other throwing the shirt somewhere to the floor.

"Fuck me now. Nick. Please." He begs against Wolfwood's chest as Wolfwood stumbles, trying to get rid of his own pants. Now when the orgasm fog subsided, the aching emptiness pulses painfully in his guts. He'd do anything for Wolfwood to give him that one thing more.

Wolfwood frees his cock, hard and swollen and oh, he must be on the edge too. It's terrifying what Vash could do now just to get filled with Wolfwood, hot and pulsing and…

"Please"

"Fuck. Are you doing this on purpose?" Wolfwood slides his hand along Vash's arm, thoughtless tease to his oversensitive feathers. Vash moans with open mouth, and parts his legs more, aching, looking through his eyelashes, sensitive and panting under Wolfwood's gaze. He holds his breath when hot head brushes against his petals and moans encouragingly once Wolfwood pushes inside with a grunt. It's still a bit too much. Tears come to Vash's eyes, but he aches for Wolfwood more than feels any pain, and Wolfwood controls himself way better than him, being all careful and slow. He gives a shaky breath and nods, and Wolfwood starts to get deeper. He leans closer, similar to how they lied at the beginning, struggling pants loud against Vash's ears, drops of sweat now clear at his temple. Vash wants to wipe that sweat, but the sense of being so perfectly filled makes him forget how to unclench his fists that found purchase at the sheets again. He's gonna rip them apart, if he haven't already, but that's problem of future them.

Now Wolfwood's eyes widen with some surprise as he stills inside of Vash and Vash smiles at him with the most bright, lazy smile he did in like a century. Wolfwood smiles too, and something in Vash clenches tightly again. Too many feelings for one Plant, for one night. Wolfwood probably thinks the same, because he doesn't say anything, just rubs Vash's cheek. Vash leans into the touch, and even if he wanted, he can't stop smiling. Not until Wolfwood braces himself and moves away from the pulsing insides, and thrusts slowly again. Vash jerks in shock, brows furrowing in tension, another thrust making him give a sound that Wolfwood comments with choked breath and the quickening of the pace.

His feathers fold and stick to Wolfwood's sweaty skin, brushing against him and connecting them in their pace, Wolfwood arching up and panting above and Vash crying out his name as his dick twitches and hardens again, and the pleasure makes Vash more and more desperate to take anything, anything Wolfwood has to offer.
He stops clutching to the sheets and leans up with strength of his core, wrapping Wolfwood and digging his nails against soft, unscarred skin. Wolfwood hisses, and thrusts with enough force to shift Vash further on bed. Vash scratches again, and leans up to dig his teeth in Wolfwood's neck, biting anywhere he reaches, mumbling nonsense and thanking Wolfwood for being so good to him again.

Another orgasm comes with less shock, but floods Vash so strongly that he barely keeps up to the pace of his partner. Wolfwood deserves more. He's so good, so hot against his skin, so hard and filling inside. Vash loves Wolfwood, loves everything about Wolfwood. So when Wolfwood tries to pull out, Vash tangles his legs and squeezes him stronger, the spasms of his insides making it hard to focus. Wolfwood looks at him intently, but Vash nods, and smiles, and kisses him and nothing else has to be said until Wolfwood parts his lips to utter:

"Vash… Angel…"

He arches up, hips thrusting one more time before something hot floods Vash's insides, and Vash's lower body spasms together with hot cock in his insides. Wolfwood's heart is racing so hard Vash feels it before Wolfwood lets his weight fall at him, slack and panting at the crook of his neck. He doesn't pull out yet and Vash doesn't want him to, both letting the aftershocks and sloppy kisses prolong the blissful moment.

It feels so light and impossibly good, the man he loves hot and limp against him, heavy pants sounding almost like they were about to burst into soft laughter. Vash certainly is close to do that, a strange mix with the tears that feel fresh when he weakly wipes at his cheek. He lets a shaky sound between huff and cry, and curls his head down, wrapping exhausted Wolfwood and placing a kiss at the sweaty black hair. Wolfwood turns up to look at him and Vash is not ready for the slightly hazy and completely vulnerable look he's gifted with. Who among them is real angel? Vash isn't sure they would agree on this matter. But for as long as Nicholas D. Wolfwood wants to offer him such admiration, Vash is gonna do what he's good at and take it, and give out anything he has in return. Today, and in all the tomorrows.