[At first, Vash doesn't realize what's happened. He tilts his head just enough to try and catch a glance of Wolfwood, to see what words he seems to be chewing on. With just a little encouragement, maybe —
And then he sees Wolfwood's expression, the drooping eyes, and knows better than to run his mouth. He keeps his fingers moving against the back of his head, each tender touch meant to further coax Wolfwood into slumber. It's the only thing that will rightfully help pass the time back to sobriety.
Eventually, though, Vash does let himself shift. He gives it around ten minutes or so, making sure that Wolfwood's breathing has slowed enough to truly be asleep. Then he works on gathering Wolfwood up into his arms. It's a strange mirror of a few nights prior, when Wolfwood had carried Vash out of the woods. Now it's the Punisher in his arms, being carried to bed.
He doesn't quite want to disturb Wolfwood's privacy by barging into his room, so instead Vash opens the door to his own. He gets the man laid across the bed, and even delicately pulls off his shoes and sets them to the side. Besides that, none of his layers are removed, though he is carefully bundled up. It's been cold, after all.
Which... speaking of cold... unfortunately, Vash only has so many blankets, and they're all piled atop his bed. Remiss as he is to cross any kind of boundaries, he doesn't have much choice when it comes to both watching over Wolfwood and staying warm. So long as he stays at the far edge of the bed, though, it'll be fine, right? No worse than sharing the backseat on a long travel day.
Right?
He tries not to think about it more than he has. His boots are unlaced and kicked off and his jacket hung up, but that's as much as he removes. Satisfied, he buries himself beneath the covers, and wills himself to not fall off the damn bed.]
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[At first, Vash doesn't realize what's happened. He tilts his head just enough to try and catch a glance of Wolfwood, to see what words he seems to be chewing on. With just a little encouragement, maybe —
And then he sees Wolfwood's expression, the drooping eyes, and knows better than to run his mouth. He keeps his fingers moving against the back of his head, each tender touch meant to further coax Wolfwood into slumber. It's the only thing that will rightfully help pass the time back to sobriety.
Eventually, though, Vash does let himself shift. He gives it around ten minutes or so, making sure that Wolfwood's breathing has slowed enough to truly be asleep. Then he works on gathering Wolfwood up into his arms. It's a strange mirror of a few nights prior, when Wolfwood had carried Vash out of the woods. Now it's the Punisher in his arms, being carried to bed.
He doesn't quite want to disturb Wolfwood's privacy by barging into his room, so instead Vash opens the door to his own. He gets the man laid across the bed, and even delicately pulls off his shoes and sets them to the side. Besides that, none of his layers are removed, though he is carefully bundled up. It's been cold, after all.
Which... speaking of cold... unfortunately, Vash only has so many blankets, and they're all piled atop his bed. Remiss as he is to cross any kind of boundaries, he doesn't have much choice when it comes to both watching over Wolfwood and staying warm. So long as he stays at the far edge of the bed, though, it'll be fine, right? No worse than sharing the backseat on a long travel day.
Right?
He tries not to think about it more than he has. His boots are unlaced and kicked off and his jacket hung up, but that's as much as he removes. Satisfied, he buries himself beneath the covers, and wills himself to not fall off the damn bed.]