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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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.

No.

[ Eyes still closed, hands still moving in a motion that's much more stroking than it is cleaning, baut he loops them back around for a moment just to hold him. ]

I was dying. Knew it. I'm ready for that. I've known since the Eye first put me in the field that I wasn't going to die an old man. The thing that got to me was that I couldn't tell you what you mean to me.

Don't get me wrong, I'm leaving solving problems without violence to you from here out. But the thing that scared me most was knowing what I'd be leaving behind.

[ it’s enough to make vash shiver, even despite the heat of the water. and he leans himself into wolfwood like he’s trying to make himself smaller, tucking his face into the crook of the other man’s neck and shoulder. ]

… I don’t want to lose you. [ nearly choking on the words, clutching at him. ] I can’t.

I don’t want to make you a better person if it means —

And I don't wanna leave you behind.

[ It's horrible, but it feels better this way. It's hard, but it's honest. He bows his head against Vash's, just holds him. What's the point of trying to live his life in a way that won't cause Vash pain if it means letting it end, causing Vash more pain, giving up whatever future they have? ]

I wanna be selfish. I want more time with you.

[ it’s a relief not to have to be the one to ask for it. wolfwood deserves to be true to himself, and the world deserves a wolfwood that lets his good heart lead him, but. if that means vash has to lose him? everything in him pushes back selfishly against it. ]

I don’t want to be the reason something happens to you. [ a full-body shudder, a little twitch of his natural hand, the one that can still feel wolfwood’s blood gushing out over it. ] And if you stay, I know —

… but when I think about asking you to leave, trying to make you, I — [ he drops his face into wolfwood’s shoulder, arms tightening around him. swallowing hard past the barbed lump in his throat. ] I don’t know what to do.

[ That conversation that's been looming?

It's here.

Because Vash says if you stay like he thinks there's a choice in that. Wolfwood had tried to leave the system that made him what he is in the most dramatic way possible, and being sent to keep Vash alive was shocking for how light a punishment it was. He's with Vash by choice now, sure, but leaving would only hasten his death.

Well, it'd hasten the decision to kill him. He's pretty confident the dying part would be plenty slow. ]

How'm I lookin? Clean enough for civilized company?

'cause there are some things I probably need to tell you.

[ it’s not what he’s expecting, and it’s enough to jar vash (momentarily) back out of his own head. so he blinks, loosens his hold so he can pull back and take a look, tries for a smile. (maybe there’s a sniffle and maybe his eyes are wet, but he’s got his brave face on!) ]

Yeah. Less likely to make little kids burst into tears at the sight of you, I think. [ unwinding his arms from wolfwood the rest of the way, even though that means having to convince them that, yes, he’s sure he wants to let go. ]

[ Well, if he's less bloody now, that at least gives him an opening to do what he's been wanting to do since he opened his eyes. Tips his face up and kisses Vash on the mouth, a sweet, soft little press. ]

Thanks for cleaning me up.

[ So much more than that. Thanks for saving him, thanks for being tender with him, thanks for being someone he wants to be tender with in return. He steps out of the shower, content to leave Vash in there to make the most of it or follow as he likes. Towels off and starts to dress - the clothes are actually a really good fit. Except for this shirt, which is a shade tight, and - ]

Thing's strangling me.

[ He undoes the little buttons on the front. That's better. ]

[ a few minutes ago, vash would have probably ducked away from that kiss. agonized over whether or not it’s something should accept, something he deserves in the face of being half the reason wolfwood nearly died. but something in him has eased enough for him to lean into it when it happens, soaking up the comfort from it like wolfwood has wrapped him in a warm, familiar blanket.

and, hmm. if he’d been thinking ahead enough, it probably would have been smart to drag his bag in here with them. his medkit is in there, and he could have taken the chance to dig out the bullets and slap on some bandages. and maybe he still could, but…

there’s a part of him that feels like a puppy that’s desperate to trot along at wolfwood’s heels in the hope of getting pets.

so! following him out, making quick work of toweling himself off and digging out some clean clothes. and then he plops down on the edge of the bed, offering up another little grin. ]

Not complaining about the view. [ a fidget, and then: ] C’mere? [ holding out both arms, inviting wolfwood into a seat on his lap. ]

[ Maybe he should have added this to his little list of thanks, too. Wolfwood's pretty sure he hasn't sat in anyone's lap since he was about two, and it's a treat that Vash is both tall enough to make that happen and someone whose lap he'd like to sit in. So he climbs on, careful not to press up against Vash's wounded stomach but winding his arms around him, grazing his lips against Vash's cheek. ]

I'm not gonna tell you not to worry. I worry about you all the time. But that whole mess gave me plenty on time to think, and all I could think about was how unfair it was that I couldn't tell you how much I love you before I went.

I'm not gonna put myself in that situation again.

[ that’s good. like this, vash can wrap his arms around wolfwood and pretend it’ll be enough to keep him safe, leech comfort from the other man’s weight and warmth. smoothing a hand down wolfwood’s back, just appreciating that he’s still able to touch a wolfwood who’s warm and alive.

but that last bit makes him huff out a little laugh, leaning forward to press a kiss against wolfwood’s forehead. ]

You tell me all the time. [ which isn’t a complaint — vash can never get enough! ] It’s not like you let me doubt it.

Yeah, but -

[ He laughs, and it's quiet, but genuine. ]

No impossible promises, so I'm not promising. But I wanna stick around and do what I can to help make a world where the last time I tell you I love you is when I'm a crusty old man getting taken out by Father Time, not an idiot with a gun. That'd be my ideal.

[ there’s still a touch of bittersweet in the smile, but it’s a real one. it’ll still mean losing wolfwood, being asked to keep going despite his absence, but. it’ll also mean being there to see him live a long, full (and hopefully happy) life, which is still a gift worth appreciating.

vash reaches up to cup wolfwood’s face in his hands, thumbs stroking affectionately over his cheekbones. ] I’d like to see that, too. I bet you’ll still look good with wrinkles.

Bet your ass I will.

[ He smiles, nuzzled slightly into the cup of Vash's hands before he breaks that gentle hold to press a soft, lingering kiss against his lips.

This is nice.

Time to ruin it. ]

That's why I can't leave or let you go. [ It's... hard to think of a way to say this without sounding like the kind of person who tries to guilt someone into staying by theatening to kill themselves. That's not it, not at all, but it cuts so close it's almost unbearable. ] If you decide you're through with me I'll respect your wishes, but I'll still follow you. The only thing I hate more than the idea of not having more time with you is the thought of you thinking my blood is on your hands.

[ the kiss is nice! it doesn’t soften what comes next, but vash still appreciates it for what it is.

but the smile falters. his hands drop from wolfwood’s face to his shoulders, breaking off eye contact and chewing at the inside of his lip. ]

… I know. [ it comes out sounding miserable. ] The people who sent you after me… they wouldn’t give you this much free reign unless they thought they have you on a pretty good leash, right? I thought, at first, maybe you were just loyal, but… [ he rubs absently at his temple with the heel of his hand, trying to soothe the threatening headache there. ] After what happened on the sand steamer, things made more sense.

[ that person, livio, was someone wolfwood wanted to protect. but based on the way he’d been able to turn on a gun on him, he isn’t the only one. ]

I'm not gonna have all the answers. You don't tell a weapon how it's made. All you need it to do is fire.

[ He sighs. ]

Maybe I should get out of your lap. If you need to ... I dunno, get up and walk around, you should be able to. But I think you need to hear this. I think I need to tell you.

[ if it’s worse than what he’s guessed already, there’s a pretty big part of vash that doesn’t want to hear it at all. but… he always knew that there was a time limit on both of them having the luxury of playing dumb, just like he knows that time is up. ]

… if it’s okay, I like holding you? [ voice tipping up into a question at the end, trying to put the choice in wolfwood’s hands. vash drops his hands to the other man’s hips, gives them a little squeeze. ] But if you need some space, I don’t mind. I get it.

[ He should get off. It feels too much like he's caging Vash in, witholding yet another choice from him. But he wants it, and if Vash says he wants it too...

he'll be selfish just a little longer. ]

When you asked my why I killed Rollo, I said it was for mercy. I know that didn't sit well with you, but I meant it. Same reason I shot at Livio on the sand steamer. They're the same. From the same place, been through the same things to make them the way they were.

The same place as me.

[ This is the hardest part. It's going to make Vash feel bad for him, take his focus off what it needs to be on; not the fact that Wolfwood had his childhood ripped away so he could be reforged into a weapon, but the fact that there's still a chance that weapon could be pointed at Vash. ]

You've figured at least a little about the Eye of Michael, if you could get the drugs. How much do you know?

[ it's not exactly a surprise. if anything, vash has been purposefully trying not to put the pieces together; they've been floating in proximity to one another, like meteorites clustering around the same star. it... doesn't mean he likes hearing it, but.

he frowns a little, looking off to the side. ] They're a... cult of plant-worshippers that operate out of July. I've heard some of the sermons. [ two angels, one of salvation and one of destruction. mankind is being punished for its misdeeds by having the angel of destruction live amongst them, but one day there will be a reconciliation. and once the two angels are united again, they'll form the bridge that will lead humanity to its salvation.

it's... not hard to see where it comes from, and vash always tries to avoid listening when he can. it makes him too lonely to think about it, too heartsick.

but that's probably not at the center of wolfwood's focus, so he changes course a little. ] I know they're... doing something to people. You, Rollo, Livio, you're all -- [ another pause, and then he shakes his head. ] A normal human couldn't keep up. It's closer to --

[ there's... a long pause, after that one. it's the part of it that his brain keeps veering away from, that he's tried not to look at too closely. ignoring what was right in front of him, desperate to play dumb. ] ... I know it's got something to do with...

[ he doesn't say the name, trailing off and letting silence speak instead. ]

Knives.

[ It's clear Vash knows, and it'd probably be kinder to let him dance around it. But he's trying to be honest, cards on the table. So he says it, painfully aware that the little squeeze of apology he gives Vash is crashingly inadequate. ]

They worship him. Keep an army to serve him. They need people who are malleable, people they can indoctrinate and shape to their purposes. So they take children.

[ He knows this already. Somewhere, deep down, he has to know Rollo's town wasn't an outlier. Doesn't mean it doesn't ache to make him face it. ]

They use drugs. They make us stronger, but they also make us susceptible to all the other stuff. It's like... induced psychosis. Breaking the mind down to clay they can shape. Different people have different reactions. Some just die. Some end up completely different, physically, mentally, or both. It triggers physical growth, too. Adult bodies are better in a fight.

[ It's really not the time for a joke, but there's at least one thing he can reassure Vash about, so he smiles crookedly. ]

Judging by how old I was when they took me from Hopeland and how long I was in the field before I met you, I'm at least twenty. Some room inbetween for the treatments. So don't go getting knotted up about that.

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