fourstrings | i knew this would happen, still hard to believe it

i knew this would happen, still hard to believe it

[ At this point he’s said you’ll be the death of me to Vash on multiple occasions. Every time a violent situation would be easily solved by lasering someone’s head off, for example. Or when Vash figured out how he was coming up with the money for inns and hotels and tried to argue that it wasn’t fair to use his skills to fleece people, still pouting about it when Wolfwood pointed out stopping would mean no more actual beds, no bathtubs, and zero donuts. When they figured out that making Vash come via his dick meant he was still raring to go by other means, that was a good one.

He’d say it now, if he was well enough. Told you you’d be the death of me. It’s probably a good thing he got hurt so bad he can’t speak, because Vash wouldn’t think it was funny.

Truthfully, he wouldn’t want Vash to blame himself anyway, even if there’s no way in hell he would have put himself between someone else and a bullet without Vash’s influence. And it was fucking stupid! It’d be one thing if it was Vash, or a kid, or like… a really hot woman. But the person Nicholas D. Wolfwood, The Punisher, tackled out of the way and took a bullet for was an old man. Probably only got ten or fifteen good years left in him anyway, but the guy had given them a place to stay and made sure they were fed and introduced them to his family, and all Wolfwood could think of when he saw the bandit firing at him was his damn grandkids, and the way Vash would sink into that pattern of thinking he ruins everything he lets close again. How the fuck was he supposed to know the first bullet would hit the damn pocket he keeps his vials in? He’d even arranged a drop in the next town over, but he can’t tell Vash that because the second bullet had hit him right in the throat. Long term treatment like he got is designed to keep you on your feet long enough to get a dose to heal you up, but in this case all it’s gonna do is make sure he dies slow.

He'd thought about this moment, when he was feeling especially maudlin. How he’d kiss Vash gently and tell him that he gets to die a better man than he was, because of Vash. But he can’t speak, can’t move his limbs to raise a hand to Vash’s face. All he can do is gurgle and bleed and hurt. He’d almost forgotten how much it hurts and for how long when you can’t patch it up right away.

Turns out, though, that there’s one more thing he can do. And as his vision fills with blotches of red and black, he does it, and passes right the fuck out. ]

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[ and there it goes. a little more of that awful fear peeling away, until vash almost feels like he can breathe again. he fully intends to grab the cleanest piece of cloth he can find and waste a little more of that water wiping some of the blood away, but for now? the only thing in the world vash wants to do is just sit here and look at a wolfwood who's looking back, drink down the rasp of his voice like it's the sweetest thing in the world. ]

Hi. [ it comes out thick, eyes stinging. ]

[ It's an effort, and drags a little nnngh out of him, but he hooks an arm up around Vash's shoulders and manages to pull Vash down enough and himself up enough to give him some approximation of a hug. A little kiss is on the horizon, too, but maybe after he finds some way to clean himself up a little. ]

Fucked that right up, didn't I?

[ bending like this to get himself down on wolfwood's level is enough to make every wound sing out in a little starburst of pain, but vash doesn't care. he lets himself get dragged down willingly, sliding his prosthetic arm around wolfwood's back to support him and letting himself lean into him. just a little, just for a minute. it'd be a better hug if he let go of wolfwood's hand, but.

no.

there is a part of him, selfish, that wants to agree. to say it was a fuckup, to demand that wolfwood never does anything like it again. to be selfish, please. but he swallows back the impulse, shakes his head a little. ]

You did good. [ and then, emphatically, even as vash wishes he wasn't: ] You're good. You saved his life.

[ In spite of himself, in spite of the way every part of him wants to insist he's giving up on this whole no-killing thing he's trying, he sighs. That's good. Good to know the old fart made it; that he didn't get himself damn near taken out only to have the guy catch a bullet after him anyway.

He's got an idea of what might have put a halt to all that, and it's only confirmed by the way he feels Vash moving. It's not like he's resistant or tentative - feels like he should be, though. ]

You're hurt.

[ If he sounds almost offended by this, it's because he is. It's full dark. Plenty of time to get himself seen to, and he hasn't. Stupid. ]

[ a laugh, but it's a thready thing, not an ounce of humor in it. ]

Scrapes and bruises. Nothing to worry about, it'll heal.

[ sitting himself up again, mostly so he can get a better look at wolfwood. changing the focus back towards what's important! ] You okay? Does it hurt anywhere else? I gave you two, but if you need more...

[ nudging wolfwood's jacket carefully away from his chest, checking for a wound where that first bullet shattered his supply. relieved to find nothing more than dried blood and a little pockmark, like the scar of an injury that's already been healed for ages. ]

Hurts like a bitch. It's getting better, though.

[ What's not getting better is his desire to hold Vash, and since all his body parts appear to be functioning he gives Vash a little pat on the hand that's checking for injuries and then heaves himself up. Scoots around until he can sit next to Vash, leans close, wraps an arm around him. ]

Don't know how you got it, and I'm sure I'm not gonna like it, so before I find out and tear you a new asshole over it:

Thanks.

[ even knowing wolfwood is sturdy, even having seen the proof for himself that he's been healed, vash can't help the low sound of distress he makes as the other man heaves himself up. the panicked little animal nesting in his hindbrain is still insisting that he stay down, stay still, stay alive, and it's harder to convince it that everything is okay.

but the hug is nice! even if vash's response isn't nearly as as enthusiastic as usual; it's more of a slouch of his weight on wolfwood than anything else, the shakes starting to settle in as the adrenaline burns off. ]

Mmmhmm. [ it's about all the detail he plans on going into. ] No problemo.

Oh, hey.

[ It's reasonably calm. Not the first time he's seen Vash get the shakes, although there are nicer ways to see him get overwhelmed. He shifts a little more so he can pull Vash into a decent, two-armed hug, presses a little kiss into his hair, starts stroking there to try and soothe him. It helps to have something to focus on, too, his brain shutting down the lingering pain once it identifies a more important task. Taking care of Vash is always going to take priority. ]

I'm here. I'm okay. You did good, Tongari. We're gonna be just fine.

[ just this, wolfwood having to comfort him after he was the one who’d nearly died, is enough to make vash’s stomach twist with guilt. if he was stronger, better, he’d redirect things — he’d know how. instead, he just leans himself a little more into that embrace, not caring that the proximity is smearing blood over his skin.

still! he tries, forcing more steadiness into his voice than he feels. ] Uh-huh. Yeah, no, I’m good.

[ parroting it back to him stupidly. ] You’re okay, we’re okay.

We're okay. We're here, we're okay, and I love you.

[ He doesn't know what else to do, so turning it into a loop of reassurance seems as good a bet as anything. Put it's okay in Vash's head, and then hammer it home like a nail. He reaches for Vash's hand and holds it to where the pain is easing to little more than a dull ache now, over where his flesh has knit itself back together, keeping it flat so Vash can feel the big pulse in his neck too. ]

You saved me. See?

[ the i love you should be good. or maybe it is, maybe that’s the problem. it makes that scared-rabbit panic startle back to life in some back corner of his mind, and vash has to squeeze his eyes shut tightly.

(it’s like a nightmare he’s had a hundred times before, wolfwood telling him i love you with his blood drying on vash’s skin.)

he needs to knuckle himself back under control. he has to, at least for a little while. they can’t stay here — they need to make their way to the next town over and hope it’s a quiet place to spend at least one night. wolfwood needs new clothes, a shower, probably something to eat. they all need to sleep.

the way wolfwood folds vash’s hand gently over his throat should help. it does, until the present overlaps with his memory — when he expects a rich gush of blood to follow each thump of wolfwood’s pulse, and the panic nearly makes him jerk his hand away. but he doesn’t. keeps it there, tries to tell himself that this is real. ]

You’re okay. [ gritting his teeth to stop them from chattering. ] You’re okay, you’re okay, you’re okay.

Give it half an hour, I'll be good as new.

[ Vash, on the other hand. Wolfwood doesn't know what to do for this. It's not the first time Vash has freaked out a little but it's never seemed quite so bad - never been such a mess, probably - and it's usually been when they were alone in a bedroom together, and Wolfwood could just press him down and kiss him softly and distract him. Seems rude to do that while he's covered in blood, ruder still when he assumes Shortie and Druncle are within line of sight. ]

What do you need? When's the last time you ate something? Drank water?

[ it feels... awful, for wolfwood to be the one who nearly died but vash end up being the person who needs to be taken care of. the guilt twists up in his stomach, sours at the back of his throat.

so he shakes his head, trying to gently work his way free from that hug. ] I'm okay. Really, you don't have to worry.

[ trying to shift the focus off himself. ] Do you think you can handle a ride in the truck? If we head south instead of east, we'll hit a town in about an hour. We can find you a place to wash up, maybe some new clothes.

[ He can feel that shift. There's a part of him that wants to grab Vash's hand, reassure him - that he's fussing because he needs Vash, because that was fucking terrifying and Vash's presence is the only thing keeping him sane right now, because he thought he'd never see Vash again and now that he does he realizes how fucking stupid it was to risk throwing it all away. Because he's grateful that Vash did what he did, however stupid or dangerous it might have been, grateful that he did it and now Wolfwood's alive to be mad at him for taking that risk.

It feels like that would probably make it worse, though, so he bites it back. Later, when things have calmed down, he can tell him. For now? ]

That sounds... really good.

[ He lets Vash disentangle himself, stretches a little and makes a catalogue of the places and ways that doing so hurts. Pretty normal, pretty standard.

He was damn lucky. ]

Gimme a hand up? [ A grin, crooked. ] Could do it myself, but I want the excuse to stay close to you.

[ wolfwood lets it go, and that's something. vash doubts he's off the hook forever, but maybe long enough to pack some of his own reaction back up and box it away, to figure out what he's supposed to do about any of this.

standing is enough to make him wince, but vash bites back on it. he hadn't really taken proper stock of the injuries before, but with the adrenaline wearing off, they're making themselves known. he'll have to find a way to deal with them once they're settled somewhere safe, but that's... a problem for future vash. (sorry, buddy.)

for now, his main priority is making the smile he summons up halfway to believable as he extends a hand to help wolfwood up. ] Subtle, huh?

[ He catches that wince, too, the way the smile makes it maybe halfway to Vash's eyes before he forces it the rest of the way with sheer determination. Once they have somewhere to rest, he can bug Vash about how much pain he seems to be in, what he might need. For now, it seems like the best way he can thank Vash is to go along with the lie. ]

As always.

[ He takes Vash's hand, even though he mostly pushes himself to standing. It's steadying in more ways than for balance, and he keeps hold of it as they move towards the truck. If a near-death experience doesn't get him off the hook for being lovey-dovey in front of the others, what the hell will?]

[ thankfully, it doesn't take roberto and meryl long to be on board with the plan. their makeshift campsite is just as easily cleared away -- canteens and supplies gathered back up, sand kicked over the fire, the truck packed with everything they brought with them.

it's a quiet ride, but vash doesn't mind. it's good just to be able to press himself up against wolfwood's side in the backseat, their hands still clasped together. trying to reassure himself that wolfwood is still warm, living, whole -- that vash can feel the slow rise and fall of his breathing from their proximity, can soak in the warmth of his skin. it doesn't take it all away, but it blunts the worst of the edges. enough to let vash keep it together for a little while longer.

they run into a bit of a complication once they've arrived at the town and are ready to make tracks for the inn -- wolfwood's clothes are a ruin, and there's too much blood smeared on his skin and matted into his hair to be able to rinse off with one of the canteens. but, after a moment, vash shrugs off his jacket and wraps it around wolfwood instead, tugging the hood up to cover his hair. the jacket's big on vash, but wolfwood is swimming in it, and something about the sight makes vash's chest ache. he wants to wrap both arms tightly around him, he wants to make a bunch of stupid promises he can't keep. he bites the inside of his cheek instead, offers to go see about food and water while the rest of them handle getting rooms for the night. (gently waves off wolfwood's attempt to go with him, points out that people are more likely to do business with a guy if he doesn't have a buddy covered in blood and gore dogging his heels.)

it's quick work, tracking down what they need. refilling the canteens, scoring a plate of hot sandwiches from the older woman working behind the bar. and then, turning up the charm and not afraid to look pitiful, vash hits her with a story about his friend being mugged in the last town they visited, asks her if she's got a change of clothes he could pay her for. vash knows he must look like a mess -- dirty, bedraggled, dark circles under his eyes; it's obvious she feels bad for him, and that pays off. so, when she offers him a set of her son's clothing that vash thinks is roughly about wolfwood's size -- dark jeans and a long-sleeved henley -- she won't even hear of taking payment for them. (if it was for himself, vash would probably feel guilty about the charity, but if it's for wolfwood, he's willing to do almost anything.)

so it isn't long before he's able to head to the inn. knocking on roberto and meryl's door as he settles some of the sandwiches and one of the canteens outside, then crossing the hall to the room he's sharing with wolfwood. ]

Hey. [ trying to keep his voice light. easy. unbothered. ] Found you some new clothes. Not your usual style, but they're not covered in blood, so...

[ unloading the contents of his arms onto the bed. canteen, food, clothes. ] You think you're okay to shower off?

Probably.

[ He could stand up in there, hose off. The damage is healed, and blood loss never really keeps him down for long once he's all patched up - whatever's in those little vials seems to get the juice pumping as well, tops off whatever's emptied out of his tank. But he aches in places that really aren't anything to do with the wounds that are covered over now, that he knows will have healed tidy enough that you might not even know they used to be bullet holes to look at them once the blood's off them. He wants to be close with Vash, to hold him and have Vash hold him in return. He just.. knows Vash might not be up for that. The time he's had to himself while Vash ran around taking care of everyone was just enough to start worrying that some damn fool ideas have taken hold in Vash's heart. Thoughts about getting too close, and where that gets you.

He makes it a suggestion, rather than a request. ]

Wouldn't say not to company. Do our bit to conserve water, and all.

[ The showers are usually on a timer in all but the fanciest places, but the offer's there. ]

[ the yes that tries to tumble out of him is immediate, but vash bites down on the inside of his cheek to stifle it. he wants to. wants to help rinse off all the blood, wants to put his hands on wolfwood until he can convince himself that he's really okay. wants to hold him, skin against skin, and is desperate to have wolfwood hold him in return.

but vash knows he shouldn't. wolfwood's been telling him all along, you make me a better person, and look where that had almost gotten him. it's... the first time vash has ever had to confront the potential consequences like this, seen them applied to someone else and begun to stumble over whether it's a price worth paying.

and there's the other matter at hand -- if he takes the offer to go shower off, there'll be no hiding his injuries. wolfwood'll worry, or worse, feel guilty (like vash wouldn't take a hundred times worse for him without a thought).

he should turn him down. stay here, see what he can do about some hasty first-aid while wolfwood is gone. it's why he freezes up for a long moment, breaking eye contact and shifting his weight from foot to foot. he should say no. he knows it.

... but, instead, voice small: ] ... okay.

Thanks.

[ Because this time, he doesn't need well-honed perception to note the hesitation, or how small Vash sounds when he agrees. It's not a good match for him; tall and beautiful. Wolfwood likes it best when his voice is confident, happy. Even better than when it's pleading for release. But he'll take it; scoops up the clothes in one hand and Vash's hand in the other, leads him into the bathroom.

At least that's a private one, instead of shared. It means the place is at least middlingly pricey, and he's glad he has cash stashed in a variety of places instead of just carrying it all on his person - although he hasn't met a place on Gunsmoke yet that won't take money because it's bloodstained.

The way to do it, he figures, is to act like it's normal. Not like this is weird, but not like the times they've torn the clothes off each other in the rush to be wet and naked together either. He cranks the water, sets aside the clean gear - no underwear, he notes, so he'll be going commando for a little while at least - and sheds the bloodstained, ruined suit right there on the floor. They can throw it out together later. It'll be cathartic. By the time he's done the water's as warm as he's willing to let it get without risking a cutoff, so he steps in. The sigh he gives at the feeling of it sluicing away top layers of blood and grime isn't even for show. ]

Hot water, soap. Only one thing I'm missing for this to be perfect. Get your lanky ass in here, Tongari.

[ wolfwood strips off those ruined clothes, and it's a relief all its own just to see them go. the other man is acting like this is normal, easy -- like it's any number of times they've crowded under the same shower spray together. not even waiting to see if vash is going to strip down, and...

it helps.

it still takes a second for vash to actually talk himself into it, another to coax his hands to get the process started. finally stripping his shirt off over his head, making equally quick work of the rest of his clothing before he edges his way underneath the shower spray. at least most of the bleeding has stopped -- there's still a sluggish trickle from two of the bullet holes in his stomach, but the other four have long-since closed over and started the process of healing. the rest are just an assortment of scrapes and bruises; easier for his body to deal with, likely gone by morning.

he hovers for another long moment, almost like he's afraid to reach out and touch him. but finally, tentatively, he cards his fingers into the other man's hair -- helping work the hot water into it to rinse out the matted blood, feeling something ease just a little inside of himself at the sight of it sluicing easily away. ]

[ It's fucking healing. Not like the drugs, sure, but Vash cards his fingers into Wolfwood's hair and something in him comes free from where it's been bound up tight. He tips into the touch, lets his eyes fall closed, hums softly. It's good. Good enough that he'll let the bullet wounds lie for now, just loops his arms around Vash's waist and lets himself sink into it.

There's been A Conversation on the horizon for a while now and it's looming closer than ever, but for now that touch is sweet, Vash's proximity is bliss, and he means to let himself enjoy it. ]

Feel better already. There's nothing like being clean.

[ it's a relief, and vash finally lets himself breathe. he knows that wolfwood must sense something is off, and there's no way he doesn't see the injuries, but he doesn't press it. just lets vash have this, wraps his arms around him and leans into him, and vash could almost cry with gratitude.

he doesn't! only because that would mostly ruin the whole gesture, and he doesn't want to spoil the moment wolfwood's gifting him. but it's obvious that he relaxes a little, some of the whipcord tension in his muscles easing as he lifts his other hand to help out with the task in front of him. water only does so much -- it isn't long before he goes for the soap, lathering it up before working it into wolfwood's hair, fingers rubbing firmly over his scalp. ]

Less likely to terrify anyone you run into, now. [ trying for light, falling just a little short, but that's okay. ] You looked pretty scary before.

[ It doesn't matter how shy of the mark Vash's jokes fall if he's going to rub Wolfwood's scalp like that. It's good, so good to feel something sweet like this after that pain and dark that he shivers with it. It's a lot - it's almost too much - but it's good, good, good, and he soaks it in. Snags some soap just so he has an excuse to stroke his hands over Vash in return even though Vash isn't nearly as grimy as him, skating carefully around the bullet wounds, mindful not to get soap in them even as he tries to act like they're not there.

It's the first time he's ever avoided any of Vash's scars, and once they're all healed they'll be just the same as the rest - as at-risk of being stroked or kissed over as the rest of Vash - but for now, it feels important. ]

I bet. Thought about looking in the mirror while you were out, but I decided against it.

Good thing I already locked you in. I'd hate to risk sending you running.

[ it's a joke, it has to be, but it's still enough to make vash flinch. it shouldn't be a surprise that wolfwood can read him, but sometimes vash forgets -- he's used to being able to deflect most people with a smile, but wolfwood's always seen right through it from the start.

he could probably edge back away from the topic; vash gets the feeling that wolfwood would let him. but he leans into the other man's hands on his body, and after a long moment: ]

... you might be better off.

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