God, he needed a shower.
His first thought stepping into the hotel room with Vash right behind. He rests the Punisher beside the door and lets out a groan as he stretches out his arms and back muscles, relieved from carrying the damned thing. A massage would be great too.
Both men have been sleeping out in the desert for days. A string of bad luck where the towns they visited had someone recognized Vash, leaving them no choice but to camp in the desert. The desert also wanted to kick them out. The wind on this side of the planet is relentless, howling around them and kicking up sand in their faces.
Good luck came in the form of a receptionist taking one look at their dishevelled appearance and giving them a room key.
There is sand in places where it shouldn’t be, making Wolfwood annoyed at the grits scratching against his skin at every movement. He gazes in the direction of the bathroom.
Vash follows his gaze. “You take a shower first,” he says, removing his coat.
Wolfwood grunts in reply; no need to tell him twice.
He grabs spare clothes and strides to the bathroom—praying that it’s decent . His prayer is answered when he sees a clean sink, toilet, and shower stall. Barely any stains on the walls too. Some tension in his body slips out just looking at the spotless room.
Wolfwood dumps his dirty clothes in a pile on the floor and kicks them into a corner to deal with them later. Leaving the clean clothes on the toilet, he steps into the stall and fiddles with the shower handle. Warm water rushes out of the shower head, pelting his tired body. Sighing, Wolfwood lifts his head and closes his eyes, savouring a moment of peace.
The water rushing out is too loud—or he’s too weary—for him to hear the stall door open. He tenses the door close, feeling a presence behind him.
Vash.
“Don’t mind me,” Vash chirps, sounding too cheery for someone who has braved the desert as Wolfwood did.
Too tired to reply, Wolfwood reaches for the shampoo bottle but a hand beats him to it.
“Wait!” Vash yelps.
Turning with nostrils flaring, Wolfwood growls, “What—”
“Let me help.”
Vash pleads more with his eyes than he does with his words, irises bright and filled with warmth. There’s baggage under his eyes but the tiredness doesn’t faze him. Being the sucker for the look (he will never admit it) he resigns to his fate and lets Vash turn him around, back facing him.
A click is heard when Vash opens the cap and another when he closes it. Lithe fingers card through his hair, fingertips grazing his scalp as Vash lathers him with shampoo. Humming, Vash combs the soap from his fringe to the back of his ears, scratching the back of his ears that leave a pleasant tingle. Thumbs move down to press into the back of his neck to work on the tense muscle that has Wolfwood letting out a pleased sigh. Hands move up the base of his skull, fingers massaging the crown.
The head massage makes him feel like he’s floating.
Vash tilts his head back and pulls him under the water. He rinses the soap in his hair, continuing to rub his head even after all the soap has washed away.
Wolfwood feels lips press into his nape.
If Wollfwood was less dazed, he would’ve told him to cut it out but instead, stutters on an exhale when lips press between his bare neck and shoulder. This is too intimate.
He doesn’t pull away. Vash continues his path leaving kisses along his shoulders, content with giving him attention instead of cleansing him. Wolfwood shudders, head listing while lips drag across his skin and hands knead the tension away.
The intimacy makes him feel small, small in his big body that’s not used to being handled with care, and while naked. It’s uncomfortable, but it’s not because of Vash (it could never be because of him). The weariness in his bones makes him want to lash out and pull away because some part of his mind believes he’s not allowed to indulge in affection . Can’t indulge when he still carries the weight of his past sins.
Wolfwood stays where he is, letting Vash do whatever he wants but not without shivering under his touch. Pressure builds behind his eyes, overwhelmed with thoughts of self-loathing. He tries to silence his breathing that’s picking up.
At least I’m not facing him.
As if he can hear his thoughts, Vash turns him around and he goes without resistance. The same hands that take care of him hold his face. Concern is laced across Vash's features seeing his red-rimmed eyes.
“Nick, are you alright?” Vash murmurs.
Not trusting his voice, Wolfwood leans into the hold in answer.
Vash kisses his nose, receiving a wet huff from Wolfwood, and pulls away to grab the bottle of body wash. He presses another kiss to his sternum before lathering his chest. Vash leans down as he drags his hands down his body to scrub his hips and legs. Wolfwood stumbles when Vash lifts his legs to clean under his feet and redens. Back to his full height, Vash reaches behind him to scrub his shoulders with fingers digging into the muscles. Facing him like this, Wolfwood is at Vash’s mercy, face an open book with affection and—
Vash drags his flesh hand down his arm, settling on his wrist. He raises his hand to—
Kiss his palm.
The pressure behind his eyes finally breaks. Inhaling back a sob, he leans forward to hide his face in Vash’s shoulder. Vash arms wrap around him, soothing him by petting his head and humming a soft tune. The tears mix with the water on Vash’s skin and are washed away. Wolfwood lets out puffs of air, composing himself after almost breaking down under Vash’s ministrations, who is kissing his temple.
“Oi, what are you trying to do?” Wolfwood rasps.
“Cleaning you,” Vash hums, sounding far too pleased. Wolfwood may pinch him.
“You look like you needed it.”
I don’t.
“And I feel bad for making us sleep in the desert.”
Wolfwood shakes his head and pulls back, seeing bright blue eyes beaming at him. He looks away. “Your turn to get cleaned.”
Vash smiles. “Okay.”
Wolfwood places shampoo on his hands and cards his fingers in Vash’s hair like he did for him, fumbling trying to make the massage pleasant like it was for him. He thinks he’s not doing a decent job but Vash responds with a pleased hum and pushes against his fingers.
Vash grabs the body wash and scrubs his body while Wolfwood suds his head. Wolfwood moves his body under the spray, riding off the soap and grim. Wolfwood helps tilt his head back under the water and places a head on his forehead to avoid getting soap in his eyes.
Done rinsing, Vash turns to him and whispers, “Thank you.”
Wolfwood should be the one saying thank you.
Vash laughs at his sour expression. He turns off the water and hops out of the stall. Wolfwood follows after him with less enthusiasm. Vash dries himself with a towel and hands one to him. Before Wolfwood finishes drying his body, Vash is already in clean clothes and hair spiking in various directions from towel-drying. Vash drops a towel on his head and rubs it into his hair.
“I can do it myself,” he grumbles under the towel.
Vash lifts the towel to peek at him. “I know but I wanna.”
Hair towel-dried, Vash drops the towel off to the side. He grabs his change of clothes and stands before him, smiling, expecting to help him change .
Wolfwood face flushes in embarrassment. “I can do this much at least,” he grumbles, taking the clothes from him.
Vash grins at him while he quickly puts on clothes. Not wasting a second, Vash pulls him by the wrist and they exit the bathroom, guiding him towards the bed. Vash takes off his prosthetic with a click and climbs into the bed. He looks up at Wolfwood standing over him and reaches up with an arm, beckoning him. Wolfwood follows, lying on his side inches away. Huffing at the distance, Vash pulls him closer with an arm around his shoulder, settling Wolfwood's head against his chest and wrapping a leg around him. Wolfwood rests an arm around him, hearing Vash let out a content purr.
The exhaustion has him shuffling closer into Vash’s warmth. He gazes at the skin peeking over the collar of Vash’s shirt. Wolfwood leans up to place his lips on his skin.
Thank you.
Vash huddles him even closer and presses his face into his hair. Wolfwood feels his lips brush the crown of his head.
You’re welcome .
Embraced, they fall asleep.