i knew this would happen, still hard to believe it

[anthophilia]

[ 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. ]

Comments

[anthophilia]

[ He swallows. A herculean effort after all of that, but he's suddenly aware that if he doesn't he's gonna start drooling, and a man has to maintain a little dignity.

( tell that to let wet spot where he was mouthing against the pillow on their last go, see what it has to say. ) ]

Nuh-uh. What you did goes beyond fucking. That was...

[ The words for it haven't been invented yet. ]

makes me wish I knew when my birthday is so I could ask for it. Special treat.

[spiculatus]

You can ask for it whenever you want.

[ and he's stupidly earnest about this, because he wants to make sure that wolfwood knows. ]

You remember what you told me, once? Whenever you want, wherever you want. I'll find a place. [ kissing a lazy trail down the line of the other man's neck. ] I want you that much, too.

[anthophilia]

[ Those kisses are nice, but they're also pretty soothing, and he yawns hugely. ]

'preciate it, Tongari, but if we do that more'n once in a while I'm gonna have to trade the motorbike for a wheelchair. Feels like it's gonna be a full day before my legs work.

[ To say nothing of his ass. Doesn't hurt, but Vash hit his peak just in time - one more round and his hole would be tenderized. ]

[spiculatus]

It'd probably be a good idea to crash here for another day, anyway.

[ but that yawn is pretty telling! and cute.

vash squirms a little, enough to be able to grab at the blankets and drag them up over them both. tucking wolfwood in! pressing a kiss to his cheek! and then, innocent as an angel: ] But it won't take that long to get your dick back in action, right?

[ nicholas d. wolfwood is going to die. ]

[anthophilia]

[ He groans and pulls the sheet up over his head, but the grumpiness is betrayed by the way he snuggles in to the bedding and Vash, making himself cosy. ]

You'll have to sit on it.

[ And under the covers he presses his face against Vash's shoulder, plants a sleepy kiss there, and starts to snore. Not a honk-shoo mimimimimi to be found. ]