Vash has been acting strange.
He’s avoiding him—not entirely when they both travel together, always by each other’s side in their waking and sleeping moments. What exactly Vash is avoiding is hard to say.
It started with Vash brushing off a hand on his shoulder with a strained smile and a forced I’m fine after a run-in with bandits. It happened again when Vash almost flinched away when he patted him on the back. This had Wolfwood reeling back in surprise; normally Vash beams under his touch. When this occurs a couple of times with no sign of an explanation, Wolfwood decides to avoid touching Vash’s back altogether until he’s back to his old self.
Then came the faraway look. Vash stared off into the distance more than usual, with a hazy gaze and chewing on his bottom lip as if something was eating away at him. He occasionally directed that stare at Wolfwood, judging by the multitude of times he felt the prickling sensation of being watched. When Wolfwood caught him staring, he saw the forlorn expression before it vanished with a smile. Wolfwood asked if there was something on his mind and all he got in response was lost in thought.
Lost in thought my ass.
Then came the twitching. Vash suddenly thought every place he sat or leaned on was uncomfortable, leaving him dejected with shoulders shifting and hunched over after giving up on finding a position that didn’t bother him.
The only place that seemingly made him comfortable was leaning on Wolfwood. It startled Wolfwood when it happened at a bar, after a couple of drinks. Vash was quiet (unusual) and shifting in his seat (usual now) so Wolfwood took on the duty of chatting nonsense about the bar’s patrons. Wolfwood was mid-sentence talking about a funny-looking guy across the floor when a weight settled on his shoulder. Pausing, Wolfwood turns to Vash and sees the most miserable expression pressed into his shoulder. His eyebrows and the corners of his lips are drawn downwards as if he is in pain and about to cry which makes Wolfwood believe Vash got shot and he didn’t hear the fire.
The concern is dashed away when Vash says, “Sorry, I’m just tired.”
Just tired. As if it explained the pain etched on his face. Wolfwood ends up accepting the half-assed explanation and wraps an arm around Vash’s shoulders—he’ll take this after Vash’s recent distant behaviour.
Vash tenses at the contact and Wolfwood expects him to pull away. Instead, Vash slowly relaxes and shuffles closer. He massages Vash’s nape and shoulders, hoping to relieve him from whatever the cause of his strain. Within minutes, Vash is comfortably plastered to his side, purring in contentment, and Wolfwood almost forgets he wasn’t avoiding his touch mere hours ago.
The next day they rode on Angelina throughout most of the day. Vash was back to being restless in the sidecar which drove Wolfwood nuts as it jerked the bike. The fidgeting was worse despite the massage he had given him the night prior. By the fourth hour, Wolfwood put his foot down and decided they were going to stop at a town’s inn instead of camping in the desert, forcing Vash to rest from whatever was bothering him. If Vash is somehow injured and hiding it, Wolfwood is going to plummet him. If it’s a Plant thing, Wolfwood is still going to plummet him for not saying anything.
Sulking, Vash agreed without protest.
At the inn, Wolfwood orders him to take off his coat and show that he’s not injured. Vash complies, letting Wolfwood rack his eyes all over him to quell his concern. Vash continues to fidget while standing, embarrassed by the gaze on him.
Seeing that there isn’t any blood, Wolfwood tells him to go to sleep and he does.
Coming morning, Wolfwood wakes up before Vash. Even in his sleep, he’s restless and his face is scrunched in discomfort. Wolfwood combs his fingers into the blond hair, making Vash snuffle in his sleep. Letting out a sigh, Wolfwood quietly gets dressed and leaves the room to buy cigarettes and food. He also remembers to buy a box of donuts.
Wolfwood comes back to the room in a disaster—a feathery one.
There are black feathers scattered on the bed and a trail of them on the floor. The trail leads to the bathroom which Wolfwood can assume where Vash is hiding. Striding to the bathroom, Wolfwood can hear Vash whining and he startles when he rounds the corner. Vash is sprawled over the bathtub but that’s not what startles him. It’s the two large ebony wings draping down his back onto the tiled floor. More feathers are scattered along with specs of red. The wings themselves are tangled, clumps of feathers sticking out in various directions, like a Toma who hasn’t preened in a month.
Wolfwood inhales a bit too sharply for Vash to notice his unannounced presence. Startling, the wings fold inwards to his back and Vash turns to him wide-eyed. Both stare at each other unmoving.
Glancing at the unkept wings, Wolfwood breaks the silence with a, “Need help?”
Vash’s eyes widened further at the question, expecting something along the lines of why do you suddenly have two massive wings.
Wolfwood knows Vash is skittish when it comes to his Plant features. And has been around him long enough to see them when Vash’s mask slips. He never questioned the sharper-than-usual canines or the low rumble his body released when he was happy or the blue irises that appeared to glow sometimes (he hasn’t figured out that one yet). Nevertheless, Wolfwood couldn’t help but stare, a little intrigued when he did see a glimpse of the inhuman parts of Vash. When caught, Vash would turn away, hiding himself—smiling with a closed mouth, wearing sunglasses, and stifling the noises he emits. Wolfwood has seen feathers spawn here and there though it was only two or three at a time, and only across Vash’s cheekbones.
It bothers Wolfwood that Vash hides from him but he has his own fair share of not wanting someone to see the deepest parts of themselves to understand that it’s best not to push.
What he sees in front of him is new territory for him—and Vash for that matter whose face is lined with fear and dried tears. Wolfwood catches the angry nail marks across his back as if he tried to grab the wings in his distress. Some indents are deeper than others where blood is drawn.
First things first, Wolfwood needs Vash to settle down.
Taking a step, Wolfwood repeats his question, “Do you need help?”
Vash continues to give him a bewildered look. "You see me like this, and you don’t ask where I got them or," Vash exhales a humourless huff. "Run away?"
"To be fair," Wolfwood rolls up his sleeves and grabs a towel from the hanger. "I'm not going to question why you look like a Toma. Amongst other things I've seen, I'm calling it a ‘Plant thing’ for the sake of my sanity. And second," Wolfwood turns on the sink faucet and dampens the towel. "You do look like you need some help."
Ignoring his answer, Vash shifts to stand as if to prove he doesn’t need any help. Bracing his arms on the tub, he moves his legs to plant his feet on the floor but struggles, body unsteady with the weight of the new appendages and Wolfwood’s gaze. Wolfwood unconsciously moves forward to assist when Vash slips though he keeps his distance. With a groan, Vash gives up and stays where he is on the floor, hunched over the side of the tub.
"Is this what's been making you squirm in pain all this time?” Wolfwood questions.
Vash grits his teeth. "Sorry, I just need a day to fix this."
Wolfwood doesn’t like the way he considers the situation something he could fix. "Are you gonna fix it by ripping them out?" He doesn’t mean to be an ass but it’s obvious what Vash was trying to do from the way the marks looked like he was clawing at his back.
His words sting from the way Vash grimaces and looks at the mess on the floor. "I'm fine."
Wolfwood groans. "Like hell you are!" He approaches him, towel in hand. "I'm gonna help."
Vash presses himself against the bathtub. "I can take care of it!"
"I want to."
Vash stares at him in confusion.
"I want to help," Wolfwood affirms, stepping closer.
Vash looks away just as Wolfwood stands behind, body and wings shuddering in apprehension. On his knees, Wolfwood takes a closer look at the scratches on his back. Lifting the damp towel to a spot on his nape, Wolfwood carefully brushes away the dried blood. Vash gasps and flinches away from the contact.
“You’re okay,” Wolfwood murmurs, dragging the towel across Vash’s shoulders and down his spine. Wolfwood notices the tiny specs of feathers sprouting across his skin as he has seen before on his cheeks. Vash trembles as he swipes between the base of the wings, the movement causes his wings to rustle. Satisfied once there’s no more blood, Wolfwood throws the dirty towel to the corner and proceeds to his next task: smoothing out Vash’s wings.
Examining them, it does look like Vash hadn’t taken care of them in who knows how long. Wolfwood brushes the base of Vash’s bare spine with his fingers. Vash jumps.
“I’m gonna touch your wings,” Wolfwood declares.
Vash doesn’t respond, words stuck in his throat as he shakes. His wings press further into his back. Not backing down, Wolfwood caresses the base of one of his wings, the only response he gets is Vash shuddering. Wolfwood will take this slow.
He smooths his hand across the wing, feeling the bumpy ridges of the unkempt wing. Wolfwood pets the wing a few times to give Vash time to relax. Seeing that Wolfwood has zero intentions of leaving him, Vash sags against the tub, chin resting on his arms. Still shivering, he unfolds his wings, the entire wingspan splayed by his sides and on the floor. Wolfwood takes it as permission to start.
Sitting on his butt to get comfortable, Wolfwood gently holds one of the wings onto his lap and begins to pluck stray feathers. He vaguely remembers how to preen from the few times he had to help Tomas back when he was at the Orphanage so he thinks he can do a decent job at this.
Wolfwood cards his fingers through the tendrils in his search. A pile of feathers soon forms beside him as he carefully plucks. While doing so, Vash fidgets under the attention. Once there are no more stray feathers, Wolfwood rearranges them, making the wing look presentable. Wolfwood leans back to examine his handy work; the wing looks a lot better from its deary state just moments ago.
Wolfwood pats it. “All done with this one.”
While scooting over to the other wing, he hears a whisper.
“Why?”
Wolfwood hums. “Because I want to.” He takes the wing into his lap.
Vash turns to peek at him and Wolfwood holds his gaze. His eyes shine with unshed tears.
Wolfwood looks down at his task. “Y’know you don’t have to go out of your way to hide this.”
Vash inhales to steady his voice. “It’s…unsightly to look at.”
“It’s only unsightly if you don’t take care of yourself.” Wolfwood points at the wing he just fixed. “See that? A perfectly nice wing.”
Vash glances at it with a lack of interest. Wolfwood sighs.
“What I’m trying to say is, you don’t need to hide this from me when you already do enough of it around everyone else.” Wolfwood flings a feather to the growing pile on the floor. “You can kick my ass out if you need some privacy but don’t think I’ll leave you to fend for yourself.”
Vash manages a watery smile. “I’ll try to remember that.”
“Good enough for me. Also,” This time Wolfwood points at him. “I know you have fangs. You can smile better than that.”
Vash covers his mouth and flushes. His wings flutter in his embarrassment. “They make me look like a vampire or one of those elongated worms with no limbs…” He mumbles into his hand.
Wolfwood recalls reading stories about vampires at the Orphanage.
“Heh, Vampire Typhoon.”
Vash glares at him.
Wolfwood quickly finishes adjusting the feathers and pats the wing. “All done.”
Wolfwood backs away to allow Vash to lift his wings and spread them out, though the bathroom isn’t big enough to fully stretch them out. Vash holds one of them and traces his fingers along the tip of his feathers. He catches Wolfwood’s gaze, who raises his eyebrows expecting a reward in the form of a ‘thank you’. Feeling timid, Vash turns away and makes another attempt to stand. Wolfwood catches him by the bicep when he stumbles, steadying him on his feet with a hand on his waist.
“Thanks,” Vash mumbles. He leans on him for support, head resting on his shoulder. “You’re a good person Wolfwood.”
Wolfwood feels heat prickling up his neck at the fondness of his words. He clears his throat and pats Vash’s side. “Yeah, yeah, let’s get you to bed.”
Wolfwood manoeuvres him to his side, wrapping an arm around the small of his back and pulling Vash’s arm around his shoulders. Both men leave the bathroom threshold and walk into their room where feathers are still scattered across the floor and bed. Vash grimaces while Wolfwood snorts.
“I’ll clean that up,” Wolfwood states.
Wolfwood guides Vash to sit at the edge of the bed. He leaves his side to rummage around the room, gathering the feathers and dropping them in the trash. Wolfwood makes a note to hide them later least the innkeepers think they de-feathered a Toma.
Room cleaned, Wolfwood wipes his hands together. “Alright. We should stay here for another night, don’t want you going out spooking anybody.” He strolls past Vash towards the contents on the table that he bought early. “I got some donuts—” He’s interrupted by a wing blocking his path. The wing in question curls around him and pulls him back, towards Vash, who wraps his other wing around him. The wings rustle around him in an embrace.
Vash presses his face into Wolfwood’s stomach. “Thank you.”
Wolfwood feels the prickling sensation again from the sincerity in his voice. Now he’s fidgeting. “Don’t worry about it.”
Accompanying the wings, Vash’s arms wrap around him, tightening his hold. The wings radiate energy that buzzes around Wolfwood.
“It means a lot to me,” Vash insisted.
Wolfwood brushes off the gratitude. “Yeah, well, I wasn’t gonna leave you like that.”
Vash peeks up at him, blue eyes unguarded, making Wolfwood flush. “Would you let me take care of you?”
“You don’t need to repay me.”
“But I want to.” Vash uses the words Wolfwood said to him earlier. “I want to do the same for you.”
Wolfwood tsks, looking away. “Don't go using my words against me.” He doesn’t say yes, nor does he say no.
He misses the smile directed at him as Vash rubs his face back into his abdomen. Turning back, Wolfwood indulges in petting the mop of blond hair. Vash purrs beneath him, feeling the rumble pressed against him.
“There’re donuts if you’re hungry.”
Vash hums groggily, “Maybe later. Wanna sleep.”
Wolfwood glances at the sole bed and Vash’s wings. “You take up the entire bed.”
Vash huffs into his stomach, mumbling I do not.
Wolfwood taps his prosthetic. “Let’s get this off.”
Pulling his arms and wings away, Vash's exhausted features come into view. Wolfwood takes off the prosthetic with a soft click and places it on the nightstand while Vash settles against the bedsheet on his side, wings pooling behind him off the edge of the bed. Wolfwood gazes down at him just as Vash reaches for him with an extended wing and a pleading look. Weak to the puppy eyes, Wolfwood climbs in without complaint. The wing drapes over him like a blanket as Vash settles against his chest. Now that Vash is comfortable after his wing problem is resolved, Wolfwood rests his hand on the small of his back, receiving a content purr instead of a flinch.
It doesn’t take long for Vash to fall asleep, finally getting the rest he needs. Not all that tired, Wolfwood lays beside him awake, caressing the feathers between his fingers.
The next time Vash has to groom his wings, Wolfwood is right beside him.