sticksandbones | I'm on the brink of disaster [OTA]

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I'm on the brink of disaster [OTA]

Who: Nicholas D. Wolfwood and YOU
What: Catchall log for the aftermath of Saint Nick
When: December 26th onward
Where: Various
Warnings: Reckless behavior/irresponsible drinking

A) Staring down the consequences | OTA

[It's been a couple days, and Wolfwood is still...well, he sure is. And now it seems that the Grove all gets to have a say in the life and times of No Man's Land, so that's pretty Cool. While he does make sure to keep up with Vash's post and all of the responses out of a sense of schadenfreude, it doesn't exactly make him feel any better. Eventually, he has to put it away and go back outside for a while. Not into the Forest thankfully, but out into the snow just outside the Inn, dressed up in his coat from Heimr with a cigarette clutched tight in his teeth.

He's out here because he kindof has to be. He has a puppy on a leash, who has been waddling around in the snow for the last fifteen minutes, biting at the snowflakes and rolling around on the ground.

He watches, deadeyed, as she stuffs her face into a pile of snow all the way up to her neck.]

...please. Please, god.

[He's begging you

He is begging you to do your business he's so fucking tired]

B) To break hard would be better | Locked to Mizuki

[At some point when the puppy has been taken care of and is curled up asleep on his pillow, Wolfwood leaves again. He heads for the therapy building with full intent of going to the rage room and breaking more shit in the hopes it will help him feel less listless and dumb in the head.

Except...he gets there, and he sort of lingers in the middle of the lobby. Like he's lost, or he's forgotten where the room even is. Perhaps that's what it is, or maybe it's that he knows that breaking things isn't really the solution this time.

Maybe he should just leave.]

C) Tonight I'll do what it takes to fail | OTA

[...so anyway when that didn't work, Wolfwood decided to just grab the last of that whiskey bottle from his room and head back out to go wandering again. There's actually a lot of this town he hasn't visited for one reason or another, and the rec center is a place he flat out didn't know existed. Blessedly empty as it is, it's a siren song calling for him. He drags himself through the snow and inside.

...he's not expecting to find a giant like. Waterpark, or something, in here. Who the fuck built this?

He wanders as he periodically drinks straight from the bottle, wondering if the water is cold. It probably is since it's like two degrees outside. His footsteps echo loudly in the empty space, with pools scattered throughout. His feet are cold. Maybe it'd feel nice if he took his shoes off and just sat at the edge, assuming the pools are heated or something. Would somebody build this whole thing and NOT go to the trouble of doing that?

Fuck, he doesn't know. Nobody has this kind of money back home, and certainly not the resources to be wasting this much water. He sits down on the tile like a toddler and awkwardly kicks off his sockless, very wet (very sad, they're in BAD shape yall) shoes before scooting towards the water's edge.

If you show up right around now you'll just see Wolfwood sitting at the edge with his feet in the water. If you show up like, ten minutes later, it will be to the tune of somebody falling in.]

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

[Definitely stalling, but Wolfwood isn't going to call him out on that. He just sits there, his expression difficult to read. He does remember it, it's just vague and hazy, like he was watching himself go through the motions instead of actively in control. It's exactly why he'd told Vash that, under no uncertain terms, would he be having any kind of talk with him while that drunk. It would be disingenuous to Vash and to himself and basically spit in the face of the whole point of what he was trying to tell Vash when he kicked him out the first time. The bruise is still on his face, still purple but healing, and it's a grim reminder of what Wolfwood had said. That line he drew quite firmly in the sand between them.

He has to wonder what Vash has learned to think he's ready to tiptoe past that line.

He works the lollipop around in his mouth, pushing it over to one side. He probably should just remove it so they can talk, but he doesn't want to. Having something there to chew on keeps him both focused and grounded, and it will likely remain even when the candy has completely melted away. It's better than sitting there smoking between them, if nothing else.

After a moment or two of tense, uncomfortable silence, Wolfwood exhales slowly.]

I remember. I also remember it ain't been that long since we talked the last time.

[Well, "talked". More like Wolfwood kicked Vash out on his ass, but still.]

And if you've managed to somehow make a grand revelation between then and now, I'd love to hear it.

[There's sarcasm there, sure. But he does mean that, too.

He is choosing to give Vash a chance to speak. One chance.

He wants to see what he'll start with, to see if Mizuki was right.]

[Well, this is it. He's compared several moments in their "relationship" as stepping off of a cliff, of falling into the abyss. For the first time, though, Vash properly feels that fear. Showing up again, so soon after they'd only just fought, was going to make it seem like Vash was just trying to brute force his way through. He had once chance to make it right, and now he's at a loss for the right words.

His mouth opens, then closes. Opens again, then snaps shut.]

I hurt you. Bad. [He strokes his fingers over the cracked back of his cybernetic hand. He stares at the fractal patterns spanning outward, trying to map them out instead of meeting Wolfwood's eyes. He's scared of what he'll see there. If he'll be condemned, then at least he won't have to see it.] I'm not stupid, even if I've acted it. I know the world has been cold to you. Hardened you. And when things are like that, there's nothing worse than being offered a place to lay your head and then having it yanked away.

I've done that to you a lot. I could tell you why, give you a whole sob story but it doesn't really matter, does it?

[He sighs, heavy enough that his body sags forward. His elbows brace against his knees, just barely keeping him upright. From this half-bent position, he finally lifts his eyes. He's still afraid, but acting a coward wasn't the right way to go about this either.

He forces himself to look at Wolfwood.]

I haven't... been fair to you. And I'm sorry for that.

[Wolfwood can tell just by looking as Vash that this is difficult for him. Maybe not saying what he needs to exactly, but finding the right words. It's not like he doesn't understand. He likes to think he's categorically miserable at dealing with others. They both are, which is why up to now their relationship has been such a god damn mess. Who knew that not only were their ideals diametrically opposed, but the way their brain chemistry works too.

But what he'd said to Mizuki is true. He doesn't want to give up. But he doesn't want to feel like he's yelling an an unyielding wall, or a yawning ocean that is roaring too loudly for his words to be heard over its din. That's what it's felt like. That's what it's been.

So he listens. He listens in a way that he feels like Vash still really hasn't, but there's still time for that. And once Vash finishes with that final apology...Wolfwood remains silent. He's not looking away, but instead staring directly at Vash, never once having dropped his gaze even if Vash hasn't been able to meet his own. Thanks to his shades, Vash's skin is still etched with those eerie blue patterns, even though he knows they're not there in reality. He probably should take them off, but...]

...that's a start.

[He moves to fold his arms across his chest.]

You could tell me why. You could. But you're right. It doesn't matter, because that ain't what I want to talk about when I already know why.

[He's pretty sure if he wrote an essay on how Vash feels about himself, he'd make at least an A. That's how many times he's heard that same rhetoric, this concept of needing to be the villain so that he feels like he's atoned for something. And it's not that Wolfwood doesn't understand, as he's backslid into the same way of thinking.

It's just that...as he says, he doesn't care about any of that. This is not about their pasts, or the bad things they've done.

It's about them. Their relationship, and how they're going to save it.]

[It's a start, Wolfwood says, and Vash feels that yawning abyss of despair widen all the more significantly. He hadn't expected to be forgiven so easily, but he would have hoped for something more to go off of. Alone like this, he's grasping at straws and hoping he's finding the right answer. Livio had said so much to him, and Vash had done his best to learn. Now under the gun, however, every thought seems to scatter. And Wolfwood gives him nothing to grasp onto.

The swallow that follows is surely audible. He looks down at the floor once more. The fear creeps further into his chest. Everything he wants to say — I was scared, I don't deserve you, I don't want to lose you — all comes back to him. He's been selfish enough in the last few weeks. He doesn't need to give Wolfwood more of the same. That wasn't going to salvage things.

Even if... maybe some part of him smarts at not being able to speak his own piece. He hasn't earned it, he knows this logically. But Wolfwood assumes that he already knows everything there is to Vash, and it lashes hard at the walls of his heart.

With some difficulty, the feeling is swallowed down. He's used to diminishing himself for the sake of others. He can do this here too, if that's what it takes to make things right between them.]

I... really don't know what I'm supposed to say next. Thank you, for bein' so vulnerable with me in the first place? For having trusted me? I could say "I won't do it again" but isn't that just me trying to say what you want to hear?

[His posture shifts once more, this time wrapping his arms around himself. He should have talked to someone about this before charging in head first. He should have made a better plan instead of running in half-cocked like he always did. This was his last chance, and he can feel it slipping through his fingers.

Breathe. Think. He has to try, for once in his damn life, listen to what someone has told him. He thinks back to his conversation with Livio, plays it over in his mind and -]

I wanna know what you need. All I've done all this time is assume I knew best. Obviously I don't. But I'm here and I'm listening, if you want to give me a chance. [His fingers tighten against the sleeves of his jacket.] And if you don't, I understand that too.

[He knows good and well he's giving Vash nothing to work with. It had been purposeful, at least to start with. Perhaps unfairly so, but Wolfwood never said he wasn't bitter and vindictive. There's still a part of him deep down that wants Vash to hurt as deeply as he hurt him, which is terrible and he realizes it, but it's a byproduct of Wolfwood...not having lived. Having no experience growing up normally, no social interactions that could have formulated a proper, healthy way to process emotions that doesn't devolve back into the most childish result imaginable.

But he's working on it. Slowly, bit by bit...maybe not in the best or most efficient manner, but he's trying. To see Vash do the same means that their situation isn't as completely hopeless as he thought, because he genuinely expected Vash to come in here parroting the exact same things he wrote in that stupid letter to the Grove.

...he isn't though. He hasn't.

Now it's Wolfwood's turn to mull over what he wants to say, gnawing on the end of that stick to the point where he's certain he'll have flattened it before they finish talking. Where to even...begin, with all of this. It forces him to think back to that "talk", how ugly and nasty it got pretty much immediately. That's what finally forces Wolfwood to break eye contact with Vash for the time being, his gaze listing over to the window where snow still steadily falls in the early hours of the morning.]

This whole time...it's felt like I've been trying to convince you of something you already believe isn't true. And whether or not I'm right, or you're right, doesn't matter. It's the fact that you don't at least try to listen to what I say. It felt like...my feelings didn't matter, so long as I was "safe".

[He goes silent for a moment, still looking elsewhere.]

I don't expect you to "not do it again". But you can't...expect me to be able to deal with you saying you'll do one thing, only to turn around and tell me I don't know what I'm thinking when you start to feel regrets about it.

I would've preferred you being honest with me. And if you really...really wanted me out of your life, you'd just do it instead of tugging me along on a leash, keeping me at arm's length, but not so close that it starts to get too real.

[...]

That's what hurts.

I want you, Nick. [The name slips out before he can stop himself.] Here. With me. I do.

[His voice catches on something, a ragged noise leaving him before he can stop it. Saying as much aloud makes him feel small and terrified. Every time he's wanted something, it's been ripped away. Putting it out into the world feels like writing Wolfwood's name in blood. But if he can't admit that much, if he can't overcome that fear, they won't get anywhere.]

I know you don't need to hear about all the things I've lost. 'n you don't need to know about the things I've done. But I - [When he closes his eyes, he sees bodies. Sometimes, it's those he's damned. Other times, it's the people he's loved along the way. The grip he has on his arms tightens, the metallic fingers gouging in hard enough to bruise.

Focus.]

No, no. [He shakes his head.] That isn't it. It's that - I don't get to make that choice. It doesn't matter how scared I am. [And he is. That's what it comes down to. He's terrified of losing Wolfwood like he's lost every other good thing in his life.] It's not my choice to make. Not for you. You're a grown man, and you can protect yourself a lot better than I can protect me. So really, I oughta be trusting in you, right?

[The way Vash suddenly says that in such a clearly affected way is so genuinely starting to Wolfwood that he goes very still, like an animal trapped in a cage. He's still staring at the window, except now his eyes have gone wide, and his own grip on his arms is tight enough to hurt in equal measure.

I want you. It feels like a trap, to trust those words, even when he knows that's his own insecurities and uncertainty about the situation rearing its ugly head. Because why wouldn't he, when they kissed, and then Vash disappeared?]

...

[...

But finally, Wolfwood nods, his gaze shifting back to look at Vash again.]

Yes. Like...Vash, you told me that you knew that I was leading you into a trap. You knew it, but you didn't tell me or confront me on it, because you trusted me. You believed in me that much, for some reason, that you kept going on as if everything was going to be okay. I know that's...different, but.

[His throat flexes as he swallows, and for a moment his own words catch there.]

I know you're scared something's gonna happen to me. I can't say it won't. It probably will. But that doesn't mean it will be because of you. And even if it is- [Wolfwood stutters on a laugh, except it sounds. Odd. Nervous, even.] -then. Fuck. Maybe I'm okay with that, you know? Maybe I'm willing to take that risk. S'not like I haven't done stupider shit with my life.

...probably sounds stupid, coming from a guy who was forced to babysit you through the desert. Believe me, I didn't chase after you wanting to meet the legendary Humanoid Typhoon or anything like that. But there's a reason I told you all that shit about my life. It wasn't because I was drunk, or because I was emotional because I was drunk, or-

[He gestures vaguely with one hand, sinking back so his shoulders rest against the wall of Vash's bedroom. His brows furrow, and in that moment he looks.

Sad. Because he didn't just tell Vash about his past, or cry on him, or be vulnerable. They did much more together than that, and for someone like Wolfwood who has never done something so personally intimate in that kind of way...]

I trust you. I trusted you.

[Trusted, is what Vash's ears pick up on. It echoes in his ears, booming loud enough that Vash can't hear anything else. He can't help but imagine the period on that sentence. He'd deserve it, if he'd broken Wolfwood's trust so severely as to not be worthy of it again. It'd be yet another sin on his hands, a weight to crush down on his shoulders.

His knee begins to bob up and down. There's more to what Wolfwood said that hasn't sat well with him. He can already feel it eating through his resolve, even as he tries to keep it tamped down. There's more that he has to focus on, he can't come back to his own doubts.

An empty promise is a lie. Those were Wolfwood's own words, weren't they? So how did he come back from that?]

I wish I could say "you can trust me." Like that would make it all better. [Wolfwood wasn't a kid though, and he certainly wouldn't take Vash at his word.] I want to try, but -

[The nervous energy finally gets the better of him. He stands up, making his way across the small living area and into the bedroom proper. He doesn't dare sit beside Wolfwood, or anywhere near on his level. Instead, he sinks to his knees. From there, he stares up at the other man. There's a level of desperation in his words, a panic that's been building since the moment Wolfwood had said he was willing to accept that end.]

You can't say that to me. You can't say you're willing to let me be the death of you, Nick. You're too good, y'know that. I know you don't believe it and I - I don't know how to get you to see that. [His head bows, angling just enough to brush over Wolfwood's knee. It's too much to ask for, too intimate, but he does it all the same.]

I lost my mother. I - don't know if I can bring my brother back. I can't just accept the idea of losing you too. [It feels a little less dangerous, to shed a single tear like this. To sniffle wetly. Wolfwood can't see him, can't prove that he's actually broken down.] I want to make it work, but if you do - you have to promise me somethin'.

Don't get yourself hurt because of me. Don't - let me lose you. Someone as - as precious as you shouldn't lay down your life for a guy like me.

[His hand lifts, scrubbing furiously at his face. He knows Wolfwood will see this for what it is. It makes him feel all the more guilty.]

'm sorry. It isn't about me. Shouldn't - make it about me.

[Wolfwood maybe doesn't realize how he's kindof triggered Vash with those words, but rest assured it was completely unintentional. That feeling from earlier, that burning desire to make Vash hurt? It's...not gone, not necessarily, but it has definitely been buried now that he realizes that Vash has been hurting. He's been hurting every moment of every day, trying to do the right thing, trying to keep the people closest to him safe. An impossible task, especially for someone who invites chaos simply by existing.

Initially, Wolfwood's brain...definitely hears what Vash starts to say wrong. "I wish I could say you could trust me" makes him bristle because it's the exact thing he hates that Vash does, where he'll say one thing and Vash goes "cool, anyway maybe don't". But before he can act on that feeling, Vash has suddenly gotten to his feet and has joined him at the bedside, not on the bed, but quite literally knelt in front of it as if in prayer. Vash is here, clearly beginning to become overwhelmed with some sense of panicked frenzy, and there's a good moment or two where Wolfwood simply does not know what to do. He knows, at least, that speaking right now would be unwise, which is why he keeps his mouth shut and lets this play out.

At first, the sentiment is a lot of what Wolfwood has heard from Vash before. Similar, yet framed in a different light. Less of a "you don't deserve a fuck up like me", and more "I don't want you to die for me". And maybe that's been what it is all along. Maybe.

And Wolfwood really wants to ask Vash, honestly, if he could do the same. Could he resist throwing his life away for Wolfwood? Could he? Because he knows the answer to that is no.

It's so hard. It's so fucking hard to know what to do in this situation, because it doesn't seem like there's an answer either of them will be happy with, in the end.]

...needle-noggin.

[Tongari, he says. It feels like a long time since he's called him that, somehow.]

You're actin' as if I want to die. I'm reckless. I'm a stupid asshole. But you know me. If shit starts getting hairy and I ain't got a reason to be there...I don't stick around.

If I wanted to die like that, I've had a hundred thousand ways to make that happen. I ain't a self sacrificing type, like you.

...and I wish you could tell me that you wouldn't throw yourself in front of a bullet for me, but I know you would. Even if it meant I lost you. Cause that's what you live for. ...right?

[His voice is softer now. Low, like he's saying something meant only for the two of them to hear.]

...if I made you think that you can't ever talk about yourself to me ever again, I'm sorry. That's...not what I meant. If this is gonna work, I need to hear how you feel, too. Just as long as it doesn't mean you talking over me.

[And as if to prove that, to prove to Vash that he means what he says, Vash will feel Wolfwood reach out and place a hand on his head even if he's not looking, his thumb brushing over the edge of it to pull some of his bangs out of his eyes.]

[Somehow, Wolfwood manages to put together what Vash has been saying all along. He doesn't want to see the Punisher die, period. And if he can't have that (knows he can't, because of how precious and fragile human life is) then the least he could ask for is for him to not die because of Vash.

His head hangs low, drooped in penance, like he's awaiting eecution. He doesn't expect salvation in the form of those words. Needle-noggin was probably meant to be an insult at one point, but along the way he's collected that nickname and held it close. Right now, it feels like a balm for his wounded heart, gives him hope that it isn't all gone. And for some reason, that faint flicker of optimism is what gets him to break.

It isn't helped by the hand in his hair. If Wolfwood was going to leave, he wouldn't do this, right?]

I'd do anything for you, Nick. [His voice is thick, words becoming more slurred by the second. Somehow, he breaks through it with a laugh — sardonic though it is.] 'cept actually listen to you. Give you a choice. Anything like that.

[He's an idiot, and he knows it. But he's an idiot that's trying. He's stumbling, like he's deep in a snowbank and trying to push his way through. But he's still trying all the same.]

s'not like I don't have anything to say. I just don't know how to say it. [A sniffle, now.] I just don't know how to say it and make it seem like I'm not putting myself first. I could say I'm scared but — ain't that sayin' you're not?

[He shakes his head once, twice, three times.]

You deserve me trying though. And - that's what I want to do. To try.

[Vash is right about one thing. Wolfwood probably wouldn't be giving up on him if he were petting his hair like he's doing right now. It's reminiscent of that night, when things got a bit too heated between them and started this whole spiral in the first place. There is still a good chance that something else is going to go wrong and start this all over again. Wolfwood isn't so naive as to think it can't.

Vash would do well to recall the words of a certain Vouivre, who told him We are inherently selfish beings. He didn't just mean humans, but all creatures with a soul. Vash is no different, inclined to be selfish whether it's a conscious choice or not. And though Wolfwood may struggle just as much if not moreso with social graces as Vash, he at least understands that a lot of what Vash says or does isn't intentionally hurtful. It's frustrating, yes. It does hurt, yes. But he's pretty sure Vash would sooner commit seppuku than hurt somebody on purpose.

Right. Okay. They're trying. They are trying, god damn it, but astonishingly they have not even gotten to the hardest part yet. It's what's causing a bubble of anxiety to form in the pit of Wolfwood's stomach as he cards his fingers through Vash's hair again, brows knitted together.]

If you fuck up, you fuck up. [He says, as if it's really that simple.] As long as you own up to it. But it's okay to put yourself first sometimes. I know I sure as hell have.

[There's no black or white, all or nothing. You have to strike a balance.

That said, though. He feels the other shoe starting to shift ever towards the precipice, which means it's time to stop tiptoeing around. They keep saying If this is going to work, after all.]

If we're gonna try...then we've got more we need to talk about.

[...]

C'mere.

[Vash, on the other hand, might have thought they were there. Maybe it wasn't a perfect resolution, but he would have thought the worst was over. They were going to try, and Vash was going to do better. No more running away. No more framing it as the right decision. He was going to listen, and not spit in the face of Nick's vulnerability.

That there's more makes the abyssal ambivalence rise again. He'd thought he'd done well and identified the problem. A gap in his efforts meant that he was lacking. That he would let Wolfwood down and prove that he hadn't tried as hard as he might have implied.

The panic tries to spiral. Vash tries to choke it down before it can. He listens to that command, even if lifting his head makes him feel seen. The tears are unshed, but they're brimming heavily at the corners of his eyes. Nevertheless, he hefts himself upward and onto the bed properly. They're level with one another.

Equals.]

Anything you need. [That's a promise, even if he doesn't frame it as such. So what if he hadn't prepared for this. All he needed to do was listen, right?] I'm... ready.

[Well see, the thing is. Wolfwood wouldn't call this a problem so much as delving into matters that he feels less able to deal with than the emotional ones.

Matters of the heart.

Maybe for Vash, it's obvious. He genuinely has no way of knowing, because Vash has never said as much, at least not in words. And for all intents and purposes, the only frame of reference Wolfwood has to go on right now is the fact that they kissed, and then Vash never elaborated beyond reacting in the most nuclear way possible. Sure, he can infer what that might have meant, and honestly he does wish he could just talk around it forever, but this is something he feels needs a more solid foundation.

So. Vash joins him up on the bed, and it's really not dissimilar to how things had been before. Only now, it's early morning instead of late evening, neither of them have been drinking, and they've had to dig into some pretty painful shit to try and drag themselves out of this mire they keep sinking back into repeatedly.

The only problem is, Wolfwood knows even less of where to start with this than the previous talk they just had. He tries to open his mouth and immediately feels the words turn to ash on his tongue. Maybe that's why, much like a sheepish child might, his fingers find and take the sleeve edge of Vash's jacket, worrying the material between his fingers.

He can't meet Vash's gaze.]

...why did you ask to kiss me?

[It is not a good sign that Vash starts to laugh. Even he knows it, judging by the way he immediately claps his free hand over his mouth. There's a sharp wince as the pain lances through his poor teeth (it was, unfortunately for both of them, the metal hand). The added benefit is the fact that a few of those pent up tears wind up streaking down his cheeks.]

Sorry, sorry. [His words are still muffled through his metal fingers. He pulls them away and draws in a breath.] I - got all worked up. Thought this was gonna be hard to answer. I'm sorry.

[He knows this is hard for Wolfwood. And he isn't trying to laugh at that struggle. But for someone who experiences love so easily and so vividly, this question isn't much of a question at all.]

I've wanted to kiss you since I met you, Nick. Since you first gave that kid a lollipop, said it was okay to eat, and then smiled that cocky grin. It's just gotten worse from there. [There's another laugh, but this one is far softer. It's fond and amused, suffused with all the warmth of a man who's had it bad for months.]

I like you, Nick. Even if it scares me. Even if - [His face falls.] Even if I feel like a person like me doesn't deserve someone as good as you. I like you. And I wanted to be with you.

I still do.

[Ah. Well.

Wolfwood was expecting an answer. He just wasn't expecting Vash to be this forthcoming with one, and he's starting to realize that he may be the odd one out in terms of being able to admit to what he's feeling at any given moment. He isn't offended that Vash......okay no, actually, fuck you he IS offended Vash laughed, even though he knows it wasn't at him per say, what the fuck what the fuck-

The tension certainly does bleed away a bit, when someone as tough as nails like Wolfwood is left sitting there boggling at Vash, his eyes wide and his face having turned a shade of red so vibrant he might as well be glowing. He looks as much like a deer in headlights as he's ever claimed Vash to be, perhaps even moreso given the way his hand has fallen from Vash's sleeve and is sort of...hovering awkwardly, like he doesn't know what to do with himself.

Then...his brows suddenly furrow, gaze narrowing. His hand snaps out to grab for Vash's sleeve again, only this time it's not tentative and shy but instead a real fistful, but with Vash already on the bed with him it does no more than make a statement of how turbulent he's feeling right now, his eyes darting all across Vash's face like he's expecting him to tell him he's joking. This is just...a joke, right? All this time, since they met-

He shakes his hand, which shakes Vash a little in turn, but really it's about the weakest version of shaking Vash around that Wolfwood has ever done.]

W- why didn't you fucking say something!?

[He knows why. But that's not the point. Vash has it easier on this front than Wolfwood, who legitimately feels like he's drowning right now without the buffer of booze to carry him along.

And, it's clear by the way his voice just broke, and the way tears cling to his lashes, that it means everything. Everything, even as he sags forward and their hard heads bonk lightly together, Wolfwood sucking in a breath through gritted teeth.]

You- you god damn idiot.

[The worst part is that Vash would have thought it was obvious. He wasn't exactly subtle, and every syrupy time he murmured Wolfwood's name felt like it was a confession in and of itself. He knows that with an upbringing like his, that it would be easy to misread, but Vash had all but pointed a neon sign at his affections.

And then, of course, there was his own self-doubt. Obvious as he'd been, it wasn't as if he'd felt that he deserved the opportunity. But they'd gone over that already, and now Wolfwood was pitching forward and...

The thunk against his forehead hurts, but Vash doesn't complain. It feels like a breath of fresh air, a first gasp after nearly drowning. That free hand moves of its own volition, burying itself within Wolfwood's hair. He keeps the man cradled close, clinging like a lifeline. In his despair, he never would have thought to be so lucky. It's a second chance that he doesn't -

No. He won't do that. He won't think it, not when he's trying to be better.]

Oh, Nick. [He angles his own head so that he can trace his lips over Wolfwood's forehead. It's a gentle kiss, and one that continues as he pecks his way up to the top of his head.] I know. I'm a dumbass. Don't have to tell me twice.

[Vash had been obvious in everything but words. The signs were all there, from his actions to his mannerisms to the way he carried himself around Wolfwood like a lovesick puppy. Thing is, though...Wolfwood has never dealt with true affection to this degree from someone else, and to not have it spelled out for him in writing is leaving him to read between the lines, something he absolutely does not trust himself to be able to do. That's half of why this fight between them had gotten so ugly. Wolfwood couldn't figure out how to interpret the way Vash was treating him after they'd kissed, like he'd wanted this, but didn't?

It's why he needed to ask. He needed to know. Assuming things was starting to get the better of him, clearly, if the way he looks like he's ready to burst into flames on the spot is any indication.

And then...and then Vash is kissing him, pressing his lips to his forehead and honest to god he feels like he's dying. Something hot bubbles up in his chest and settles there firmly behind his heart, festering and burning until it feels like it might just climb its way right out of him. His breath shudders its way out of him, until it all becomes too much. He has to do something more than just sit there, which is why he reaches with his free hand for Vash again, this time coming up to grip the back of his head, his fingers tangling with blonde locks.]

You are! [His breath hitches, his voice rising.] You are a dumbass! You are...

[Then, he tries to pull Vash closer to him, not really sure anymore if he wants to hug him, or if he just wants to close, or if he should try kissing him, or...

God. God, he doesn't know. He just knows he wants to stay here, and he doesn't want Vash to leave.]

I...I like you too. [He finally manages, his voice a breathy whisper because he's worked himself up that much over how filled to the brim with indignation he seems to be over this.] I want...to be with you too. That's why I...it hurt, when you told me I didn't know what I was thinking, I knew I liked you- and- you- you better fucking not make me regret it, Vash the Stampede. You hear me?!

[He's gripping him even harder, now, the next in hale he takes so sharp and loud that it's definitely hinging on the edge of actual crying.]

Don't play with me, I'll fucking kill you.

[At this point, Wolfwood could take Vash by the neck, wring it out and throw him in the snow and he'd simply say thank you. He's doing his best to feel without hesitation. It won't be a perfect process, he knows he'll slip up and they'll both wind up bruised, but he won't break things like he had before.

He owes Wolfwood that much.]

I know, I know. [And there he is with that lovesick smile. His eyes are hooded, staring up at Nick's fury like it's somehow managed to put the very stars into the sky. That expression does diminish, just slightly, when their conversation drifts to the more serious -- namely Vash's own mistakes. Still, the longing in his voice is still obvious.]

I shouldn't have phrased it like that. Or done it at all, really. [He looks up at Wolfwood through his lashes.] It's one thing to - be afraid. Shouldn't have made you doubt your own feelings.

[With both hands now free, though, Vash can lift his own to cradle Wolfwood's face. Each caress is tender, like handling a fragile piece of glass. It's what he deserves, after a life of being treated with such brutality.]

I can't promise I'll be perfect. That I'm not gonna hurt you. But I won't make you doubt yourself. Not like that. Not again.

'n' I'll keep doin' my best to be better and better.

[He doesn't know if it's too soon. If he's misreading the signs. But maybe he doesn't care. It's only been days, and the indulgence brief, but he's missed kissing Wolfwood. So he does. He leans forward, brushing their lips together tentatively, gauging if his partner will rise up to the offer in kind.]

[Poor choice of words aside, it’s nice to have that being acknowledged. It’s not like Wolfwood is over here desperate to beat a dead horse, but it’s starting to make a lot of sense to him now why they both struggled to understand each other so badly. For Vash, his love was obvious and abundant. For Wolfwood, his was tentative and afraid, only spurred on by the alcohol lowering his inhibitions enough to allow for it. He’s not sure if he could have managed it as easily sober, if at all…but now? Now that they’ve talked like this, Wolfwood feels like he could do almost anything and Vash would be understanding and accommodating, just like he always is.

Just like now, as he feels Vash’s lips brush against his own, and he finally shatters.

He releases his hold on Vash’s jacket, the hand in his hair fisting the back of it while his other comes around to actually embrace Vash fully, gripping him with a kind of desperate energy that suggests he’s still afraid that Vash might vanish without a word again. He thinks, if that happened, Wolfwood would simply hunt Vash down and kill him. If that upset Knives, well, tough luck he got to him first.

Instead of fantasizing about Vash’s untimely demise, Wolfwood instead focuses on the way Vash’s lips feel against his own. They’re soft and warm, maybe a little chapped by the cold weather, but it’s all very real and human in a way he’s sure Vash wishes was 100%. He kisses him back not tentatively, but firmly with a hard, decisive seal of their lips together for a few moments before he draws back for a pause, just the briefest instance of breath mingling before he sinks back into Vash’s arms for another kiss. He closes his eyes even though he wants to keep looking at him, desperate to savor this feeling as much as it feels like it’s going to rip him apart from the inside. When they part a second time, Wolfwood chokes back a sob.

Is it supposed to feel like this? To feel so right that it scares you? That something so precious could be so tenuous. It really isn’t just Vash who feels undeserving, but Wolfwood too as his hand moving against Vash’s back trembles slightly, tears welling up in his eyes and spilling over, soaking into the collar of his blazer.]

[Vash decides, then and there, that he wants to kiss Wolfwood for the rest of forever. He wants to savor every tomorrow he has with the man, starting with this one right here. He almost complains when Wolfwood pulls away, only to be silenced by his lips once more. This kiss is returned in earnest, lips moving against the other man's, trying to convey wordlessly that the mistake won't be made again. That they'll stay like this and -

Suddenly, they're not kissing anymore. He hears that sound that Wolfwood makes, agonized and mourning, and moves forward. This time, it isn't a kiss, but an embrace. He keeps the Punisher tucked beneath his chin, nosing into hair that still smells of chlorine and massaging down the slightly wrinkled, flame dried blazer.

A kiss is pressed to the top of his head, then down at his temple, before Vash finally settles behind his ear. He keeps Wolfwood close the entire time. Unless he actively tries to pull away, Vash won't be letting go. And once he's properly settled, he murmurs to the man once more:]

'm here. I'm sorry I let you down, but I promise I won't again.

[Vash has made about as many promises as he's broken in his life. Maybe his word doesn't mean much at all at this point. But one thing both of them know is that every promise made is one dear to him. He doesn't make them arbitrarily, just... foolishly.

Maybe just this once, though, the promise will go unbroken.]

[It's a somber decision to make, knowing good and well that Vash will someday lose Wolfwood, no matter what. For a species as long lived as a Plant, Wolfwood's life in comparison will feel like a blip on the radar. He will someday lose that youthful luster, and like Brad and Luida, his hair will silver with age and he won't be as spry as he once was, able to race across the sands alongside Vash as easily as if it were solid ground. Of course, Wolfwood genuinely doesn't know how the drugs he takes may affect his longevity, given how he rapidly aged to begin with. It could very well mean his life expectancy has been halved, but...he never expected to live a long life anyway. Dying of old age is not in the cards for Nicholas D. Wolfwood, not that he intends to die here.

Certainly not when he has...this. It's a mirror to the first time they'd kissed in the Inn, except now, not only is Wolfwood completely sober for it, it's happening under the pretense that Vash is...his, now. They are, in a more official capacity, together. Partners. The thought of that being even real still boggles Wolfwood's mind as he struggles to catch his breath, tears coursing down his face uninhibited in a way they typically never do. For the moment, he simply allows himself this time to process what he's feeling, because it's not sadness so much as it is overwhelmed emotion, happiness, and disbelief. Vash presses kisses all along his head until they both settle into a heap together near the wall, with Wolfwood's face hidden somewhere against Vash's neck.

He doesn't say anything for what feels like a very long time. He just holds him, sniffling and breathing heavily, until eventually he growls so deeply that Vash will feel it vibrate against his chest.]

You've...made me cry twice. [Said in the tone of "I don't cry, ever, I'm too hardcore for tears"] You'd better make up for it.

[Said as his head shifts to one side, resting against Vash's gently.]

[The thought had occurred to Vash, in the same way the thought of Wolfwood's blood running through his fingers had. Inevitably, Wolfwood will die. Knowing them, it would be bloody and violent, but the alternative was... still a remote possibility. Yet even if the Punisher's life was little more than a blink in comparison to Wolfwood, there would never be anyone like him.

Vash had lived for 150 years and never fell so hard, so fast for someone. He doubted he ever could again. He'd have to spend their entire shared lives together, however long that may be, committing every second to his memory. It was the only way to survive the centuries that would follow.

Thankfully, Wolfwood doesn't let him dwell on these bittersweet possibilities. Between wiping those tears away, and the words that follow, Vash finds himself thoroughly distracted. Laughter, boyish and soft, bubbles out of him. He shakes his head, amusement clear on his features.]

I could think of a few ways to do that. [And maybe, if his face didn't immediately crumple into a yawn, it might have sounded suggestive. But the fact is,Vash hasn't slept well the past few days.

Or. You know. At all.

Which means Wolfwood an eyewitness to loudest, most exaggerated dad yawn on the planet. Because since when has Vash the Stampede ever done anything normal or in a contained capacity.]

[Yeah, Vash might be a Plant, but he is also the more human of the twins...meaning that going an entire night without sleeping at all is more than likely catching up with him, and it shows. There's a moment where Wolfwood sits back just enough so that he can look at Vash, his face wet with tears and his nose wrinkled like he's going to say something sarcastic (which is always, generally). He was going to ask Vash to elaborate, but...

Instead, Wolfwood readjusts his grip on Vash, then practically falls over onto his side on the mattress, taking Vash down with him. The bed, undoubtedly, is far too small for the two of them to comfortably sleep side by side, but...like.

That's not a problem anymore.

(They should get a second bed though. Maybe like, push two together, or something, anyway-)

Now with his shoulders up against the wall on his side, Wolfwood drags Vash close. They're facing each other, and since Wolfwood isn't sprawled on top of Vash like he was the last time they shared a bed, they can actually look at each other in the morning light, like this.

...it's almost too much, actually. The moment Wolfwood feels his heart start to beat a little too fast, he has to avert his gaze, dropping his head against Vash's shoulder again.]

...go to sleep, dumbass. I'll make you elaborate later.

[Vash has just one protest to their current position. He sits up long enough to shake his jacket — the one from his home, made just for him — off. He drapes it over the two of them. It's not a perfect fit, but between it and their shared body heat, they're bound to remain comfortable enough.

He won't be content until he can see Wolfwood's face, however. He rolls his shoulder, gentle enough to not hurt, but firm enough to disrupt. Once Wolfwood's head rises, he he allows his forehead to press against the other man's gingerly. It's a far cry from their foreheads bashing together earlier, which Vash thinks he's earned, thank you!]

C'n elaborate now if you want. [His smile is lopsided and gentle.] It involves a whole lot of mwah mwah mwah.

[It is the most exaggerated and ridiculous kissing noises ever. His face contorts with the act, before devolving into near delirious giggles. He never goes far, for better or for worse. Vash remains crowded into Wolfwood's space, but he's being loud as hell about it.]

[...this is acceptable. Honestly, it's probably pretty silly of him to be trying to settle for sleep 1) when he's slept all night and 2) is fully clothed, but the fact of the matter is that Wolfwood doesn't want to get up either, not when he and Vash just reached a threshold of being able to do this...period. It's not something he's going to be willing to just let go of that easily. It doesn't help that Vash is smiling at him all goofy, making it difficult for him to stay grumpy, even for just a moment.

He smirks, giving an equally exaggerated roll of his eyes as Vash presses their foreheads together.]

Do you have an off switch?

[Wolfwood mutters, eyes falling half closed as he brings his hand up and around to once more tangle loosely with the back of his hair, this time his fingertips dragging through where the hair grows the shortest.]

...if you wanted to kiss more, I ain't goin anywhere.

[Not now, not ever.]

I'm on the brink of disaster [OTA]

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cw: suicidal ideation implication, just in case

cw: suicidal ideation implication, just in case (just all the way down)

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