fourstrings | lies on the lips of a priest

lies on the lips of a priest

[ When you live the kind of life Wolfwood does, you have to have rules in place. Like: some things you remember, and some things you forget, because if you don’t do the second thing there’s no way you’ll survive the first. Or: children are pure, and adults, in general, are shit. Or: People can call him Wolfwood (for preference), Punisher (if it’s work), or Nick (at a stretch), but nobody gets to call him Nico anymore. Or: it’s better to fuck without kissing if you can get away with it, because kissing – faces close so close you share breath, the thing that everyone needs to keep living – is how you catch feelings.

Vash has an irritating way of blasting right through all his rules.

Rule one, they’ve done okay with. He can’t remember what it was that tipped him off that the restless, fidgeting way Vash tossed and turned when they shared a bed meant he wanted to cuddle. And that’s good, because it’s probably some tearjerking, traumatic bullshit that causes Vash to be so fucking anxious when someone’s that close that he can’t be at ease unless they wrap him up close and kind. He did, though; figured it out, caught Vash up in his arms and felt the other man go pliable and sweet in his embrace, and he finally managed some fucking sleep. After that is where is all turned to shit. They next time they’d done it Vash had just been watching him with those big, clear eyes, his permanent blush starker even in the dark, and maybe it was some stupid plant power at play but Wolfwood lost his mind and kissed him. It had been good, warm and wet and heated, and Vash had said please, Nico, can I- with his hand already halfway in Wolfwood’s pants and of course he’d said yes. But when it came time to repay the favour Vash had brightly said oh, that’s okay, I’m actually really tired! and immediately done the worst job of pretending to fall asleep Wolfwood’s ever seen in his life, complete with little snoring sounds that were a hair’s breadth from the honk-shooo mimimimimi bullshit you see in old cartoons.

The next time they’d done it Vash had kissed him first, and he’d been really into it until he shoved one of his thighs between those stupidly long, slender legs with the idea of grinding it against Vash until he had no option but to let Wolfwood give him a blowjob or at least a handy, and realized Vash wasn’t hard. That had felt shitty, but he still let Vash get him off, and that’s how he knows he fucked up when he broke his rule: he kissed, and then he had to lay there feeling like worm shit after he finished and Vash answered his groping hand with thanks, but that was enough for me! and faked falling asleep again.

This time, when Vash thrashes around and Wolfwood pulls him in close, he jerks his head back when Vash leans in for a kiss. He wants it – of course he does – but his stomach’s sour as a hangover when he thinks about going through that whole performance again. Rocking his hardon against a pelvis so flat Vash might as well be one of those dumb boy dolls they make so the dolls with long blonde hair and ballistic plastic tits have someone for little girls to marry them to, coming in a way that makes him want to watch Vash’s face and tell him things he doesn’t tell anyone, laying there hating himself for it when Vash makes fake little mnm mnm sleep sounds.

He squints against the dark. A wasted effort, when the colour of Vash’s big eyes almost seems to glow, but he does it anyway. ]

You know you don’t have to do all that shit. I’ll still hold you.

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[ Christ, if the sex was that good when neither of them knew what they were doing, imagine what it's gonna be like when they've got some practice under their belts! But Vask asks a question, and he shrugs. ]

It's better than sorry. But only if I get to say it too. So: thanks.

[ oh.

it catches him off-guard, and there's a second where he just blinks, owl-eyed with surprise. and... huh, okay. he gets the impulse to shut that down! but if he does, wolfwood gets to do it too, so...

there is only one course of action. ]

You're welcome! [ cheerfully! punctuating it with a kiss right on wolfwood's mouth. ]

[ For fuck's sake. A grown man acting this cute should be sickening. It shouldn't be making his heart do a funny little flutter in his chest! Time to pivot. ]

So... [ He reaches, plucks a fallen feather from the bedding. He'd half expected them to disappear when the ones still on Vash faded, but apparently it really is just... weird biology, and not magic. ] Does that usually happen?

[ the question gets a drowsy little mm? in response, and then wolfwood holds up that feather between them. vash goes a little pinker at the sight of it, giving a sheepish little ehehe. ]

Nnnno? I mean, I don't think so. [ he doesn't have a wealth of experience to fall back on, after all. ] I usually have a pretty good handle on it.

... is it, uh... [ a little fidget. ] ... does it bother you?

Wolud have scared the shit out of me if it was anyone else. I must be getting used to all your little surprises.

[ But Vash sounds sleepy, and the last thing Wolfwood wants to do is ruin that by leaving any room for misundertsanding, so: ]

I said it already. It's beautiful.

[ it hurts. the way it does when you have to dig a bullet out of a wound before it can start to heal. blooming up from his chest like something with thorns, knotting in his throat and stinging at the corners of his eyes.

he’s used to being called a monster. watching the way curiosity turns to revulsion and then to fear, knowing it’ll happen if he stays too long, lets the edges of the mask slip just a little too far.

he’s not used to this. ]

You don’t have to — [ he blinks hard, and it’s enough to make two twin tears spill free. a wet sniffle, then a hiccup. ] Sorry.

I don't have to. But I do.

[ He can't quite bring himself to tell Vash not to apologize, not when it feels like progress that he stopped himself even if it was only for Wolfwood's sake. He tips his face up, presses a kiss to Vash's forehead, bumps his own against it. It's... frustrating, that so much of what Vash feels about himself is tied up in problems he can't fix, but he can be here. He can make sure Vash knows he wants to be. Maybe that'll be enough. ]

I know.

[ it’s why vash believes him. he’s not so naive that he doesn’t realize wolfwood has his own ulterior motives for being part of their group, but in every other respect? wolfwood doesn’t bullshit him. he’s always told vash exactly what he thinks, even if it cuts.

it’d be cruel, vash thinks, to assume wolfwood is the kind of person who’s honest about the bad and lies about the good.

and he’s smiling! a real one, even if the tears are still coming. ] I believe you.

I don’t get it, but I’m glad.

[ Funnily enough, the tears actually help. He's pretty good at telling the real smiles from the fake ones, but they're a nice clue. And hey, since it's a real smile, he can probably get away with being a bit of a shit! ]

I gotta say, though... if I had thought you were freaky, that would have brought me 'round. Damn.

[ okay, that gets a laugh. a wet one, but still! ]

Think I should start using that to convince everyone?

No.

[ It pops out so fast! Even though he knows Vash is joking! That should be humiliating, but the only way through is to brazen it out, so he affects a pout and squeezes Vash a little tighter. ]

[ another laugh! but he knows that was mean, so the kiss he’s pressing to the corner of wolfwood’s cheek is to help make up for it. ]

Kidding! I don’t even wanna know what they’d put on the bounty posters if I tried it.

[ but! oh. that actually… brings up something, doesn’t it? he wriggles a little, trying to figure out the right way to say it, and when that fails? just blurts it right out. ] Y’know I don’t… uh, expect anything, right? From you, I mean!

[ uh, fuck, that’s probably a little vague. ] So! If you just wanted this to be a one time thing, or… if you wanted to be with other people, it’s okay! [ it would hurt. like a knife under the ribs, but that’s okay, too. there’s always a price to pay for being selfish. ]

Huh.

[ It should be a one-time thing. Or something that only happens when they end up bunking together. Easy, like that, sectioned off from everything else. Nice and tidy.

So why does he feel so shitty when he thinks about it? ]

Is that what you want?

Wha —? I —

[ it’s an easy question with an easier answer: no. but he can’t just say that! … can he? ]

That’s not what I meant.

What do you want?

[ It's mean, to put him on the spot like this. Wolfwood knows. But he also knows that Vash puts what other people want ahead of his own needs more frequently than he eats, so he's not getting a word of how much Wolfwood would like for this to be a thing - sharing a bed on purpose and not because of funds, leaning against each other in the back seat of the truck while they're awake and not using sleep as an excuse, just being together - until he hears something from Vash first. ]

[ vash opens his mouth. closes it. stifles the urge to whine that this isn’t fair, to try insisting that it doesn’t matter what he wants, because he knows wolfwood won’t let him get away with it. ] I… want…

[ i want to hold you like this for as long as i can. i want you to hold me, too. i want to hold hands with you sometimes out in public, like there’s nothing we have to hide. i want a bed that always has you in it, i want to fall asleep watching you and wake up to see you first thing.

i want to tell you that i love you. not because you’re human, but because you’re you — because you have kind eyes and gentle hands despite everything the world has tried to take from you. i want you to love me, too. to look at me, only me, until you see everything there is, and love me anyway.

most of all, i want to stop being me, just so i can fit myself into the shape of someone who can be with you. ]

… I can’t. [ it’s almost a whisper. ]

[ Wolfwood thinks he's pretty good at reading people. Part of it's his training and the drugs - most of what they call microexpressions are just expressions to him a lot of the time, a brief flicker as clear as if someone had paused midsentence to say "actually, here's how I really feel". And when people think you're a priest, they tell you all kinds of shit, and it's your job to watch their face and nod along and if he uses that to learn about them - well, that's on them for not being smarter about who they confess to. Vash might not be biologically human, but if you look at what religion says a person is supposed to be he's the most human person Wolfwood's ever met; bottomlessly kind, eternally giving, constantly repentant. And when his face isn't lit up with runes and dusted with feathers it's painfully human, every expression screaming what he feels, even when he's trying to hide it. Even if nobody notices.

Right now, he thinks he can read Vash. If he can't say what he wants, it's because he thinks it'll cost someone else something for him to have it. Or worse: he thinks he doesn't deserve it. Wolfwood's bad at gambling, but sometimes the stakes are high enough that you have to say damn the odds and roll the dice anyway. ]

I want to be with you. Only you. All the time.

[ oh.

it’s an unconscious thing, the way his hold tightens on wolfwood just a little, like his body is betraying what his fear tells him he’s not allowed to say. ]

I — [ he swallows. hard.

he knows what he’s supposed to do! say we can’t, try to force some of the distance he should have insisted on from the beginning. but the words won’t come.

and instead, what spills out: ] … I want that too.

[ And just like that, the tension that had been holding his shoulders tight evaporates. He goes loose in the curl of Vash's arms, a smile curving his lips. Yeah, it's gonna be a fucking mess, and yeah Knives is probably gonna kill him harder than he was already cruising for, but it's good, and he brushes his thumb against Vash's cheek. Soft and soothing. ]

That works out, then.

[ it doesn’t. it shouldn’t.

but vash wants it to. so, so badly that he can’t stand it. ]

You think so? [ maybe it’s okay to just pretend. for just a little while.

bumping their foreheads together gently, smiling until his cheeks hurt. ] Well. Trusting you has paid off so far, huh?

I do. You get what you want, I get what I want, and tomorrow when Meryl looks like she's gonna yell at us for all the noise we made we'll just hold hands and make goo-goo eyes at each other until she runs out of steam.

[ But... that's a dodge, and he knows it. And it's not fair. Not if he wants to have all of this have have it mean something real, so... ]

I have to tell you something. I think you already know, but if I'm gonna do this right, I need to say it. [ But... he could use a little fortification. ] Mind if I smoke?

[ … ah.

it’s the first time vash has really considered… the noise. and there’s a moment where it’s obvious that the prospect is really staring to settle in, the blush creeping across his cheeks —

and then wolfwood offers him a nice little distraction, and vash snorts. ]

You’re asking now? [ he and meryl might as well pick up the habit. their lungs have gotta be pitch-black with secondhand smoke by now.

but he’s scooting himself closer, scrunching a little until he can tuck his head under wolfwood’s chin and smush his face against his chest. close enough to feel his heartbeat, closing his eyes so he can listen better. ]

Yeah. This way if I set the bed on fire, I can say you share the blame.

[ That's... probably the last joke he's gonna hear from Wolfwood for a while. Maybe ever, because this is probably they kind of conversation you need to have before asking someone to decide if they wanna be with you and he wouldn't blame Vash at all if he threw him out after. He pulls back just enough to snag his jacket for the cigarettes and lighter inside, but once the cigarette is lit he's tucking right back in. Better enjoy it while he can. One long drag, an exhale of smoke, and then: ]

I think you already figured out it wasn't a coincidence that I ran into your group. Letting myself get hit was a good way to have you bring me in, get close. Put people in a position where they feel like they owe you and they're a lot less suspicious about why you're hanging around, right?

Your brother sent me. I tried to kill him, I fucked it up, and in his infinite mercy he decided I could work it off by keeping you safe enough for him to pull off whatever else it is he's trying to do.

[ a confession like that probably merits some kind of dramatic reaction. maybe the classic how could you?!, background music swelling with heartbroken violins.

what wolfwood gets instead is a sleepy mm of acknowledgement and not even the slightest twitch to indicate that vash is going to stop cuddling and chuck him out a window. ]

I figured it was something like that. [ not all of it, not exactly. but close enough for none of this to be a surprise.

… but there is something just a little heartbroken in the way he says: ] … I’m sorry. For whatever he did to you.

I'm not.

[ It sounds flippant like that, but he really isn't. His whole life has been people breaking him until they could twist the parts into a weapon to point at someone. This at least has a good side to it. ]

He sent me to you.

lies on the lips of a priest

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