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No matter how many years Vash has wandered this godforsaken planet at the mercy of humankind, he hasn’t quite gotten used to the pain.
The hot searing of a bullet ripping through his flesh would never be not excruciating.
So when the sickening thud of a bullet lodging itself into his hip reverberated through him, he couldn’t hold back the yelp that tore from his throat. Vash slapped a hand over his mouth to muffle his whimper as he stumbled. He couldn’t let them hear him.
The commotion occurring behind the partition quieted for a moment causing Vash to freeze. “You think he was actually back there?” One of the goons asked, lumbering forward to shove pathetically at the partition.
“I don’t know Johnny, I think we oughta move on.” Another voice drawled out. Vash could hear this one rummaging through some of the luggage that lined the walkway.
They had cornered him into one of the upper end areas of the Sand Steamer, in one of the luggage corrals to be exact. No wonder he was rummaging, Vash gave a weak smirk, this is heaven for these types of low life’s.
“Ahh you must be right David, let's go.” The two shuffled off, one shoving a larger piece of luggage over for the hell of it.
Vash let out a whine when the door slammed shut, sliding down the wall and grasping at his side. Warm blood flowed over his fingers. “You’ve done it to yourself this time you idiot.” He mumbled, reaching around to feel the back of his hip. Good it seems the bullet went through, if the hole in his back had anything to say.
He hissed as he put the slightest amount of pressure on the front of the wound, tearing up at the bone deep ache.
Giving himself a moment to rest Vash let his head knock back against the wall, panting. Cold sweat dribbled down the back of his neck, pooling uncomfortably between his shoulder blades.
Alright, enough time to rest, he’s got to get a move on.
Bracing his back against the wall he brought his left leg underneath him. With the bullet wound being to his right hip he doesn’t know if his right leg will hold him up. With some leverage and more effort than Vash is willing to admit, he was able to get himself up. Slowly.
A soft whimper broke free as his eyesight faded in and out. Ah, he must’ve pushed himself harder than he originally thought. Guess not sleeping or eating does that to a guy, who would’ve known?
Sucking in a breath he slapped a hand against the wall to steady himself before he toppled over. “You’ve got this Vash, just get moving.” A final breath and he pushed off, limping through the partition and towards the exit the goons had taken earlier.
Shoving the door open he laid his hand on the holster at his thigh, prepared to shoot if he had to. Nothing, the hallway that he burst into was blissfully empty. Vash hummed, turning to his left and hobbling off.
The Sand Steamer they were currently on was of the larger class, Vash couldn’t remember what type at the moment. They were somewhere in the vast open desert between some unmarked villages. The night was deep out here, outside of the lights of the Sand Steamer one wouldn’t be able to see their hand in front of their face.
He had to find Wolfwood.
The high pitched sound of metal clashing rang out behind Vash. He stopped in his tracks, casting his glance over his shoulder. The hallway was empty still, the noise must’ve come from deeper within the ship, how nice.
With a huff he pushed off again, the gentle rock of vertigo keeping his gait even more unsteady. Reaching his other hand down Vash felt the wound in his hip. Blood leaked at a sluggish pace, caking around the edges. Disgusting, he grimaced.
Distracted, he didn't notice the swift movement in front of him, nor the faint smell of cigarettes that filled the air.
“Jesus Vash, what happened to you?”
Vash startled, jerking his head up to say something. His voice was broken off though as he listed to the side, vision spotting.
“Shit Spikey, take it easy, where are you hurt?” Wolfwood reached out steadying hands to catch Vash around the shoulders before he met the ground, gruff voice softening.
Together they slid to the floor, Wolfwood running worried hands over Vash. “I-” his voice cracked, “Um my hip, they got me-it ah," he gasped, “it went through though.” He bit down on his lip to stop the whimper that threatened to spill over his lips.
Wolfwood nodded, eyes tracking the blood dripping in the low light. “Why’re you in such rough condition though? I leave you for one day and you end up looking like shit.” He pressed a hand down over the wound, stemming some of the flow.
Oh Wolfwood, ever caring in the gruff way of a tomcat, never change… Vash gave him a pained grin before he fell forward into Wolfwood’s chest. He pushed his forehead into the crook between Nicholas’ neck and shoulder, a cold shiver ran down his spine as he pushed closer.
“Holy hell! Vash what the fuck, you’re burning up!” Wolfwood palms at his forehead, a crease between his brows. “I think I overdid it this time Nick…” Vash’s soft voice was muffled by the coat he was currently hiding his face in.
Wolfwood grumbled, wrapping his arms around Vash to drag him up slightly. “Oh I had no clue.” He dead panned before rolling his eyes. “God Vash you look like shit. We’ve got to get you somewhere safe, come on.” He slid out from under Vash, groaning as he stood, something popped.
Reaching down he hooked his arms under Vash’s arms, hauling his skinny ass up. “You need to eat more, you’re getting too thin.” He chided, steadying the other as he braced himself on the wall, swaying sickeningly.
“You’re being overprotective Nick.” Vash said in a scratchy singsong voice, giving Wolfwood a wobbly smile. Nicholas’ cheeks reddened before he looked away and grumbled, “Well someone’s got to, you’ll kill yourself otherwise.”
Vash grew somber at that, giving Wolfwood a haunted look. “God, I’m sorry Nick, I don’t mean to worry you.” Lifting a shaking hand to press at Wolfwood’s arm, it was pitiful.
“Don’t apologize or else I’ll whack ya’.”
Both remained quiet after that. Wolfwood had to keep steadying Vash, he was fading fast, all bleary eyed and whimpering. Pushing into Nicholas when he could, soft keening making it past his lips that made Wolfwood’s heart ache.
He’d never seen Vash quite so weak, watching as he listed again. This was starting to worry him, more so than usual.
After a while of walking they made it to a small branching hallway. Their room was in this hallway, it was an overflow area. Tiny little things that contained one or two bunks and whatever else was necessary for a long stay.
Wolfwood dragged Vash down the hallway, carrying most of his weight by then. He kicked one of the doors open, relieved to find it was the right room, seemingly left alone by the raiders.
Rushing inside he slammed the door with his shoulder, resting Vash against himself to do so. Vash’s hot cheek landed on his shoulder, the heat seeping through his suit jacket and shirt.
By this time Vash was completely out of it, tears rolled gently down his cheeks. He probably isn’t aware of the tears, if Nicholas is being honest with himself. He pauses for a moment, lifting a calloused thumb to rub away some of those tears. Vash sighed, pushing into his palm like a needy cat.
This is when Wolfwood realized that not only was there the open wound and fever, he could hear the air rattling in Vash’s lungs. Shit.
Nicholas settled Vash on the cot as gently as he could, hyper aware of the bullet wound that causes Vash to hiss at every little movement.
Wolfwood sat Vash up, supporting his weight when he curled in on himself. “Hey, you’ve got be careful alright Spikey?” He nudged at the coat hanging off him, “Can I get this coat off you? I need to look you over.”
Vash looked up at him through golden eyelashes, eyes bleary but oh so trusting. It sent a cold spike of shame through Wolfwood’s gut. He looked away, unable to keep that open (trusting) gaze any longer.
He heard the rustle of Vash nodding. Letting out a breath that had lodged itself deep into his lungs Wolfwood turned back to Vash. Those watery eyes were now on the covers underneath him, gaze clouded with something Nicholas couldn’t quite place.
Reaching up he slid his hands over that horrid coat, peeling it away from Vash’s body with an uncanny gentleness. No matter what, Wolfwood always hated hurting the idiot.
Sometime later he had Vash out of his coat. All that remained were the skin tight black garments underneath, leaving little to the imagination. Wolfwood huffed, a wry grin pulled at his lips as he worked the turtle neck up. What wouldn’t he give for him to be undressing Vash when he wasn’t knocking at death's door.
Moving the shirt turned out to be a little more difficult than he had anticipated though. Blood had caked the edges of the wound, sticking the thin shirt to his skin. Vash hissed as Nicholas tugged at the thin material, prosthetic hand coming to wrap gently around Wolfwood’s wrist.
“H-hold on one second Nick…” His voice broke off in a quiet huff of air, his breath labored.
Nicholas’ head jerked up, eyes finding Vash’s pale face. Sweat gave his already pale skin a gentle glow, he looked angelic. “Oh,” nothing more than a whisper, “Sorry yeah, let me get a washcloth.”
Dropping the edge of Vash’s shirt he made to get up. A gentle grip around his wrist stopped him though. Looking down, those bluish metallic fingers were hooked there, attached to a man with the most pitiful face he had ever seen.
“Can we just take a break for one moment, please?” Big watery eyes pleaded up at him. Vash’s cheeks were flushed, his lip wobbling.
Nicholas never said he was a strong man.
Shuffling closer he nudged Vash over slightly, he needed enough space to sit next to him if he was going to coddle him. Vash gave him a weak grin as he slid over. His facade was broken when he gasped, flesh hand reaching down to cover the wound in his side.
“You’re the one who wanted to wait.” Nicholas drawled, wrapping an arm around Vash, covering the wound with his own hand. He twined their fingers together, putting a bit of pressure.
Vash let his head fall down against his shoulder, curling in against his side. “I-I know, I just need a second, that’s all.” His voice is nothing more than a whine.
“Your funeral, Spikey.” He didn’t mean it, hell Wolfwood understood speaking comfort when in pain a lot more than he would be willing to share. So, instead of picking at an obvious sore spot, he let Vash curl into him. Labored breaths puffing into his neck, hot forehead resting against him.
“I’ve still got to look at that wound y’know, you can’t hide this type of shit from me.”
Vash chuckled, “Yeah I know Nick, I know.”
They laid like that for some time, Vash curled into Wolfwood as they held their hands together over a wound they both knew wasn’t closing right. If Vash was any bit closer to his usual self he would’ve been running circles around Nicholas, not curled into him.
The worry from earlier gnawed at Wolfwoods gut, setting him at unease. He didn’t like this, this weakness that seemed to be hanging over Vash.
It made him nervous. To see the Human Typhoon downed by something he couldn’t immediately fix nor understand?
No wonder Nicholas already had some gray hair, he thought as he pressed his face into soft blond locks. This idiot was going to be the death of him.
Petting a gentle hand through that mob of blond hair Wolfwood lay contemplating. Contemplating all that he was sent to do, all that he had chosen on his own, and all that lay before him. He cast a gentle look down at Vash, snoring gently while pressed into him.
His face was still pale, a high flush dusting his cheeks. The rattling of his breath still was setting him on edge.
Nicholas grunted, pulling himself away from the bands on hot iron that had wound around his waist. They couldn’t afford to lay there and cuddle, brushing away the wounds of the world. No, Wolfwood had to figure out what was making Vash so ill.
He collected whatever supplies he could, meager or not, he’d need them. Gauze, any antiseptics he could get his hands on, washcloths, no one can anticipate the messiness that comes from hot lead tearing a hole in you.
He steadied himself, apprehension wrapping her gentle hands around his neck. Vash laid there so peacefully, face softened as he slept, pain far from the front of his mind.
Wolfwood pushed onwards, laying a gentle hand down on Vash’s shoulder and shaking gently. When waking the Humanoid Typhoon, one needed to be gentle.
The way Vash startled every time he was woken up tugged at something deep in Nicholas that he didn’t have the time to analyze. He needed to look at the hole through his hip.
Yet this time it was unusual. Vash didn’t startle, didn’t yelp, nothing Wolfwood had ever seen before.
Unfocused baby blues cracked open, floating as if he wasn’t really seeing. “Hey sleeping beauty, I know you want a break but I’ve got to look over ya’. Come on.” Wolfwood whispered, running his hand over Vash’s cheek bone, landing on his beauty mark.
Those unfocused eyes dragged up to Nicholas’ face, a crease forming between his eyebrows. “Wolfwood?” His voice was barely audible, low and soft.
“Yeah I’m here Spikey.” He put a hand on each shoulder and gently tipped Vash up, leaning him into the wall that bordered the cot.
“You let me fall asleep…” Vash whispered as he looked at Wolfwood, eyes tracking over his face. That worried look fell from his face, instead replaced with a half-hearted grin. “Thank you Nick.”
“Don’t thank me yet, I still have to look at that hole through your side and you still have to tell me what’s got you sick.”
At least for once Vash had the decency to look ashamed, letting his chin fall into a pout.
“It’s nothing, just ah-” he faltered, “A plant thing.”
Wolfwood quirked an eyebrow at him, sitting on the cot infront of him to lay out all of his bounty. “Sure, a plant thing. I’ll let ya off the hook for now, but lay down so I can get at your hip.” He waved, gesturing for Vash to plop himself down on his side, curled in so his right hip was free for Nicholas to reach.
Resting calloused hands on his side he lifted the edge of his shirt, grabbing a washcloth and the basin of water he had filled not too long ago. A mumbled sorry was all he gave before he began dabbing at the dried blood.
Vash hissed, biting down on his lip. “God Nick, can’t you be more gentle?” He snapped, glaring over his arm at Nicholas as he dabbed at more of the blood.
“Sure can’t Spikey, we’ve let it sit too long and now you’re one with your shirt.” He shrugged, gently pulling the skin and shirt away from each other.
Vash huffed, breath catching on the phlegm in his chest, squeezing his eyes shut at the incessant ache. He hadn’t had a wound that was to this degree in a while. And for it to be a gunshot of all things?
If he was being honest, he doesn't think the lack of taking care of himself is the soul issue here. The black hair at the nape of his neck brought more than strange stares… It had brought this hollowness. A cloying taste of rot filled his mouth, making food taste like death itself. The smell of illness and the coming storm of something began to make itself known to him.
No, if Vash had any say in the matter, he would say he believes he’s dying.
But he couldn't tell that to Nicholas, no that’d be too much for him to allow another to bear. Plus, Plant death has never been something that he’s been particularly knowledgeable in. He could just be going through a ‘change of life’ as the old ladies at the saloon liked to put it.
That’s got to be it, definitely.
A painful tug brought him out of his thoughts. Looking over to his hip revealed that Wolfwood had finally gotten all the cloth off the wound, front and back. What was revealed underneath made Vash’s stomach turn though.
A violent tunnel had been bored through his flesh, the unforgiving heat and speed of the bullet leaving a torn path.
“Shit Spikey, I didn’t realize it was this bad.” Wolfwood’s gruff broke the tension. He was reaching down to grab some antiseptic, eyes still locked on the hole through Vash.
Vash remained silent, eyeing the new addition to his physiology. No, he’d never had a wound like this one at all.
“Can you see any regeneration around it?” He asked numbly, turning his gaze back to Wolfwood. Nicholas Leander forward, hot breath igniting the already overloaded nerves along Vash’s side.
“Not that I can see. Vash, this looks like a human gunshot. Not a Plant gunshot. What the hell is up with you?” That deep amber gaze shifted to Vash’s face, a quizzical spark to his eyes.
Vash looked away, he could never handle much eye contact with Wolfwood, it made him antsy. “I don’t know Nick, but can we get me patched up so we can get a move on when we have to? I won’t be holding us back.” He said, steeling himself against the growing sense of dread creeping along his back.
Nicholas’ face darkened, he didn’t like that answer. Huffing he went back to work, covering what he could of the open wound and securing it as best he could.
“Sit up, I want to wrap this around you.” He directed, reaching out to help Vash back into a sitting position. A steadying hand at his lower back as he titled even when sat.
“After this Spikey, we’re going to take a nice long rest. You need to get some of your strength back.” That demanding tone was still there, but the blow was softened by something kind, sweeter than usual.
Vash gave him a real smile then, soft and gentle, meant only for Nicholas. “Will do, Nick. Thanks for patching me up.”
After all was said and done, Vash in soft warm clothes and Wolfwood in his own comfortable clothes they curled back together on that cot. Not bothering with the fact that another was across the room.
No, tonight they would lie together, wrapped in each other's arms. And they would rest, as long as the universe allowed them.