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He always wins.
Not that it’s a game, but the mantra repeats in his head every time he sees Vash. Sometimes people have to die to keep the world safe, but not if Vash is there. Not if he can help it. And that’s how he wins. That’s how he’s better than anyone else.
And this was just one more time he’s held witness. He let a few too many bullets graze too close to his skin, so he lingers behind Vash despite all the bravado he feigns and quips he shoots back to the cheeky gunman. He watches a fellow expert in his element as he disarms two men with tommy guns and leaves them incapacitated in the corner.
The Bad Guy™ with Big Guns™ is just ahead with all his Goons™, and all the townspeople were barricaded in buildings to the south of them. They should be good to go but Vash turns back to him. His kind eyes trace his body and find the small patches of blood soaking into the cloth of his suit.
“Don’t you dare,” he starts, hefting his punisher cross on his shoulder trying to hold back the wince.
Vash walks up to him, really close and smiles, tapping the barrel of his gun against his wounded side and Wolfwood collapses in on himself. “Fuck, man, don’t do that.”
“You should stay here, Nick,” Vash insists, using that infuriating nickname that only comes out when they’re close like this, a little drunk, and darkness encloses them. “Protect the townspeople.”
“That’s bullshit and you know it.”
“Yeah, but you’re bleeding.” He shrugs like there’s nothing to do about it.
“I bleed all the time. So do you.”
“It would just… suck if you were hurt more, don’t you think?”
They stare at each other, Wolfwood knows exactly what Vash is up to. He’s always so fucking chivalrous, but he never thought he’d see the day where it was turned on him. He’s seething but he’s also terrified of what this means.
“I’ll be quick. Gimme a good luck kiss and I’ll be good to go,” Vash smiles widely, donning his yellow glasses and presenting his cheek to Wolfwood.
“You little shit,” he shakes his head but gives him what he wants. He presses a kiss to Vash’s cheek and sets his cross down to lean against it while he waits, but not before slapping the other man’s ass for good measure. “Get out of here.”
Vash laughs and jogs on ahead, expertly popping another six bullets into his revolver.
Wolfwood rubs at his face with his empty hand and groans. He still always wins.