“I'll be right back. Don't cause a scene,” Wolfwood says with a hand resting on his back as he moves past him.
“Okay,” Vash singsongs, watching Wolfwood move across the tavern towards the bar to pay for their tab. They don’t want to cause any trouble.
The tavern is crowded tonight with various conversations filling the air. They’re staying in a town where the folks have the luxury to kick back and relax after a hard week. Vash doesn’t pay any mind to the crowd, gaze focusing on Wolfwood waiting at the bar. There seems to be a lineup of people trying to get drinks. Vash can see Wolfwood is annoyed about having to wait from the way he clenches his jaw. He huffs a laugh, fond at the display.
They’ve been here since dinner, enjoying each other’s company as they drink and unwind from travelling the desert. Vash had a couple of drinks, feeling a pleasant buzz, while Wolfwood savoured his one glass of his favourite hard liquor. They cozied up next to each other at a table off to the side—Vash leaning heavily into Wolfwood’s side and getting an arm around him in response, noises and conversations around them ignored. Vash enjoyed these moments, relaxing with Wolfwood.
Wolfwood could never truly relax, eyeing the place down, daring someone to approach them and claim Vash’s bounty.
No one glanced at them.
Vash turns back to his unfinished drink, having left it unattended while staring at Wolfwood, gulping the rest of it down all in one go and waits with an elbow on the table, head resting on his hand. His eyes droop as a few minutes go by of staring at the crowd. Exhaustion is starting to set in.
Body feeling heavy, Vash lays his head on the table, closing his eyes. He didn’t drink a lot to feel this sluggish. Maybe the alcohol in this town is stronger.
A hand taps him on the shoulder.
Ah, Wolfwood’s back already. Time to leave.
Vash stumbles as he stands, the alcohol affecting him more than usual, hands catching him to steady his footing. He blinks his eyes open but closes them right after—suddenly dizzy—while he's guided towards the doors, leaving the tavern. The hands grab him roughly by the waist to keep him moving but Vash doesn't mind, it's Wolfwood. Vash likes it when Wolfwood touches him, savouring those fleeting moments when Wolfwood relaxes to indulge him with physical contact. Maybe the alcohol has loosened him up too.
Alarm bells ring inside Vash’s head—these hands are uncomfortable, Wolfwood’s hands are never uncomfortable—but they’re far too distant for his dulled senses.
Vash struggles to put one foot in front of the other as he's led to, what he assumes, the hotel. He grips the back of Wolfwood’s suit jacket for support—the fabric feels different under his fingers.
After a couple of minutes of walking his back hits a wall. Vash rests for a moment, head back against the wall. He wants to go to sleep. His brain feels too foggy and his body not cooperating. Vash opens his mouth to speak, about to ask Wolfwood if they are at the hotel yet but all that comes out is a puff of air, throat too lax to speak.
“Man, that guy took forever to leave,” an unfamiliar voice complains.
Vash freezes, eyes flying open. That’s not Wolfwood’s voice. It’s not Wolfwood his mind screams.
“Patience is a virtue,” the man continues, talking to himself.
With blurred vision, he sees an unfamiliar silhouette in front of him, a body much broader than his own. Does the guy want his bounty? He hasn’t been shot at—yet—and he hasn’t been greeted by a gang of bounty hunters, the man likely acting alone.
The man notices his shocked expression. “Don’t worry, it’s not your head I’m after.”
A surge of panic overwhelms him, realizing the man’s intentions and what’s going to happen, having saved victims in similar situations. He's drugged, he can’t move, and he’s defenceless. The man can easily overpower him and he can’t run. Vash shakes at the thought.
There was no sign of malice at the tavern, no one giving them a look that would put him on high alert. Vash rakes his brain trying to pinpoint the moment his drink was spiked: he was distracted by looking at Wolfwood. He got too careless.
Vash tries pushing himself off the wall but hands grip his waist. He struggles against the hold, reaching for his gun on his thigh and pushing the burly man away with an elbow from his prosthetic. It's no use, he’s too weak to force the guy off, his efforts barely moving the man an inch. His attempts to escape only aggravate the guy who grabs both of Vash’s wrists and pins them above his head. Vash gasps, squirming under the grip.
“Playing hard to get, huh? I’ve waited hours to get you alone from your guard dog,” the man snarls into his ear.
Vash flinches away and continues to flail, going for a kick in the shins, balls, anywhere. All he does is slip, causing the man to shove him up the wall with his hard body. Vash gasps, the press of an unfamiliar body burning him.
Vash goes for pleading or begging, but his tongue feels like lead, muscles failing to cooperate while under the effects of the drug overtaking his body. He can’t see, he can’t speak, and he can barely move. The only thing that’s keeping him conscious is his absurd biology. Vash sobs, tears gathering in his eyes from being helpless. Please stop.
The man drags his other hand down his front, scalding his nerves. Vash trembles at the touch, trying to break his hands free. He wants to be back in the room, he wants to be safe, he wants to be with Wolfwood.
Vash lets out a yelp when he’s groped between the legs, fingers digging dangerously close to his crotch.
The man notices his lack of a dick. “Well, this got interesting,” he sneers.
Oh god. Vash tries to shove him off with his hips. Nothing.
Fingers move to pull down his pants. Vash is briefly grateful for his tight attire, buying him some time when the man is unable to pull them down. The man growls in his drunken haze while trying to pull down the leather pants, belts and coattails getting in the way. He paws at his thighs, making Vash jerk at each touch—please don’t.
His pants finally give way when most of the belts are haphazardly unbuckled, revealing his briefs underneath. This time, fingers grasp his groin without the protection of his pants, making Vash jolt in pain. The hand stays there, harshly rubbing his slit in some form of foreplay that provides more pain than pleasure.
Everything burns. His body feels too hot. He wants this to stop, please, please—
His mind goes to a dangerous place—he deserves this. He got too careless, got too comfortable being happy. He deserves to be used by humanity for the pain he caused, adding another scar to the long list.
Vash stops struggling, crying silently.
Fingers move to the hem of his briefs. The sound of a belt unbuckling is heard that’s not one of his own, intentions clear as day.
Vash closes his eyes. Maybe if he pretends it's Wolfwood, he can enjoy this at least a little bit.
His briefs move down an inch before there’s a shout in the distance. There’s a light breeze and suddenly Vash is falling to the ground, the man no longer holding him up.
“Fucking piece of shit!”
Dazed, Vash looks up to see another figure standing over the man who in front of him just a seconds ago. The other person points a gun.
“Give me one good fucking reason not to kill you like the scum of the earth you are,” Wolfwood growls.
The man sneers. “Jealous? I’ll share with you.”
The rage that consumes Wolfwood has him seeing red, eyes lit with fury. He fires a shot, taking off the tip of the man’s ear who yelps in pain. “My second shoot won't miss. Get the fuck out of my sight.” He glares at the man buttoning up his pants and scurries out of the alleyway, clutching his bleeding ear.
Wolfwood looks towards Vash, who’s struggling to tug his pants up. Putting the gun away, Wolfwood is on his knees beside him in a second, concern washing away the anger. “Vash, are you okay? Let me help—”
Vash flinches away when someone touches his legs, the touch burning—please don’t hurt me. He lets out a low whine, wrapping his arms around his lower body, shaking and unfocused eyes filled with fear.
Wolfwood’s heart crushes at the reaction. He backs away, keeping his hands to himself. “Vash, it's me.”
Vash blinks, shifting his gaze towards Wolfwood. It’s Wolfwood. “W’fwood?” he slurs.
“Yeah, it’s me.” Wolfwood notices Vash’s pants aren't all the way up. “Can I touch you?”
Vash looks down and bites his lip, unsure—a nonresponse.
Wolfwood balls his hands into fists, conflicted about wanting to help but he doesn’t want to scare Vash. He decides to hold out a hand, palm open, letting Vash decide what he wants to do. Vash stares at his hand. Wolfwood holds his breath when Vash raises his arm, trembling fingertips touching his own. He moves closer, closing his fingers around Vash’s hand.
Wolfwood smiles softly. “Let’s get you back to the room, yeah?”
This close, Vash can see Wolfwood better. Tears gather in his eyes as he attempts to reach for Wolfwood with his prosthetic arm. Wolfwood catches it before it can fall and drapes both of Vash’s arms over his shoulders. With an arm around Vash’s back and legs, Wolfwood lifts him. Vash shakes in his arms and whimpers, obvious he doesn’t want to be touched. Wolfwood tries not to hold him too tightly despite wanting to do so, wanting to let him know he’s safe and no one will hurt him.
As he quickly makes his way to their hotel room, Wolfwood berates himself for letting Vash get out of his sight. Two minutes of looking away was enough for the fucker to drag Vash out of the bar. Wolfwood internally seethes. He was almost too late—no, he was too late. Vash doesn’t need any more scars made by the touches of humanity’s trash. Wolfwood will make sure it never happens again.
Wolfwood whispers an I’m sorry into Vash’s hair.
Arriving at their hotel room, the Punisher greets them by the entrance, missing its opportunity to punish the bastard that hurt Vash. Wolfwood kicks the door close and sits Vash on a chair. Vash slumps in his seat, closing his eyes.
First things first, he needs to get Vash in comfortable clothes. “Can I take off your boots?”
Vash inches his foot forward. Wolfwood kneels, untying the laces and slipping off the boots.
“Coat?”
Vash gives a low nod. Wolfwood unbuttons the coat, helping Vash slide his arms out of the sleeves, touch featherlight. Before Wolfwood can ask to take off the rest of his attire, Vash grimaces, hand clutching his abdomen.
“I don’t feel good,” Vash mumbles.
Wolfwood eyes widen. “Shit.” He wraps his arms around Vash like before, ignoring the sharp inhale he receives, and lifts him.
Vash slaps a hand to his mouth as Wolfwood races to the bathroom and sets him down in front of the toilet. He grips the towel bowl and leans his head on top of the lid, coughing, bile crawling up his throat. Behind him, Wolfwood holds Vash’s head with a hand on his nape, getting a whine in response, and positions him to hover over the bowl. Vash heaves, vomiting the drug and alcohol. Wolfwood uses his other hand to pet blond locks, brushing the hair away from Vash’s face.
Vash sobs by the end of retching the remains of his stomach and rests a cheek on the toilet seat, exhausted with a bitter taste in his mouth. Wolfwood reaches for a small towel on the rack, wiping away the cold sweat and tears on Vash’s face and neck. He grabs a cup by the sink and fills it up with water. The cup is brought to Vash’s lips. Vash whines again, turning his head away.
“Rinse your mouth,” Wolfwood coaxes, carding his fingers into Vash’s hair.
He tips the cup against Vash’s lips. Vash opens his mouth, taking a sip and spitting it out into the toilet. Wolfwood repeats this a few more times, making sure Vash gets rid of the bitter taste in his mouth.
Putting the cup away, Wolfwood turns back to Vash, bending down. “Do you want to take a bath?” he asks gently, hand in Vash’s hair.
Vash shakes his head. “Sleep,” he sniffles. He wants to sleep and forget what happened.
“Okay angel, I’ll get you a change of clothes.” Wolfwood strides back into the room, rummaging through Vash’s duffel bag for his sleepwear. Grabbing a long-sleeved shirt, pants, and briefs, Wolfwood looks back to find Vash attempting to stand on wobbly legs. Wolfwood races to the bathroom just as Vash slips, holding him steady by the waist on instinct with a hand.
Vash recoils at the touch with a gasp, stepping back, causing him to stumble backwards. Wolfwood shifts his hands up Vash’s shoulders, avoiding his lower body, and pulls him against his chest to stop him from falling. Vash shakes violently against him, breathing fast.
“Hey, it’s okay. Don't want you to fall,” Wolfwood murmurs not to startle him. He waits for Vash to settle down to small tremors, stroking his back to soothe him. Once Vash calms down enough to move, Wolfwood flushes the toilet and puts down the lid, guiding Vash to sit on it. He presents Vash’s clothes to him. “Do you need help?”
Vash stares down at his lap. “I can do it,” he mumbles, reaching for the clothes.
Wolfwood desperately wants to help but he knows not to push Vash like this. He passes the clothes and leaves the bathroom, closing the door behind him to give Vash privacy. While he waits, he changes into his sleepwear, kicking his used clothes beside the bathroom to clean later. Only a minute passes by. Vash is likely to take at least ten minutes so Wolfwood decides to sit on the bed and twiddle his thumbs. He’s antsy, thinking about lighting a cigarette to calm his nerves but foregoes it. A dick move to stink up the room while Vash is not well.
His gaze skims across the room, spotting something peeking out of Vash’s bag that he rummaged through—a blanket. The soft piece of fabric will help Vash, even if marginal. Vash had said it helps him sleep better when nights are rough and enjoys the extra warmth. Wolfwood grabs the blanket, sits back down and waits.
By the eighth minute, he hears Vash call him. “Wolfwood?”
Wolfwood heads back to the bathroom, opening the door to reveal Vash sitting with clean clothes on. Vash’s gaze at him looks empty having to ask for help to move around. Stepping into his space, Wolfwood wraps the blanket around him, securing it around his body. Vash let out a noise in surprise.
“Good?” Wolfwood asks.
Vash grips the blanket, answering him by closing his and inhaling its scent. It’s familiar. He’s safe.
Wolfwood brushes Vash’s hair with his fingers. “Let’s put you to bed, yeah?”
Eyes still closed, Vash hums. Wolfwood takes it as permission to carry him to bed. Vash tenses at the touch but less than earlier, the blanket acting as a barrier. After he’s laid on the bed, Vash rearranges the blanket, pulling it tight around his body, and turns to lie on his side. He curls up into a ball, facing away from Wolfwood. His body language screams he wants to be left alone.
With Vash taken care of, Wolfwood processes what happened earlier, suppressing the anger thinking about the piece of shit trying to take advantage of Vash, causing him to shut down like this and avoid contact. He should’ve given that guy more than a punch and a clipped ear.
Shaking his head, Wolfwood lies under the sheets, turning to face Vash. Looking at the back of his head, Wolfwood wants to pull him close. Oftentimes that’s enough to soothe him. Vash is the one to initiate moving closer, the one who enjoys Wolfwood reciprocating his touches. Vash isn’t ready for that just yet, needing some space until touching doesn’t ignite his nerves.
A faraway voice in Wolfwood’s head tells him his hands are no different than that bastard’s, having done worse shit. He has no business thinking Vash would appreciate his hands on him.
Wolfwood shoves the voice away, focusing on what Vash needs right now.
Touching Vash’s head seems like his best bet. He didn’t react badly to it. Wolfwood hesitates as he raises a hand, thinking it will make things worse, doesn’t want Vash to be scared of him. When his fingers graze blond hair, Vash goes taut. Wolfwood freezes, allowing Vash to tell him to stop or move away. Vash does neither.
Wolfwood moves his hand, carding his fingers into Vash’s hair. He does this for a couple of minutes, noticing Vash destressing as he continues petting his hair. Wolfwood moves his hand down, scratching the back of Vash’s scalp and massaging his nape which is barely visible over the blanket. When he moves upwards, Vash begins to shake. Wolfwood stops, heart stilling thinking he did something wrong. He pulls his hand back.
Vash lets out a choked breath, turning to face him. Wolfwood sees his tear-stained face peeking over the blanket.
“Uhm—” Vash struggles to let out the words, looking down. “You can continue. Please.”
Wolfwood blinks at the request before softening his gaze, brushing the tears away with the back of his finger. Sliding his hand to reach the back of his head, Vash chases, his cheek resting in the palm of his hand. Vash sucks in a breath, closing his eyes. Wolfwood lets his hand rest there for a moment before continuing his journey, carding his hand into Vash’s hair.
Vash shudders, leaning forward to hide his face in Wolfwood’s chest. Wolfwood slides an arm under Vash’s head and wraps it over him, now the other hand in his hair. His other arm instinctively lowers, going to wrap around Vash’s waist but decides against it, keeping it where it's currently resting on Vash’s neck.
“You can touch me,” Vash whispers, voice muffled.
With his permission, Wolfwood rests his arm around him over the blanket, rubbing his hand up and down his back. He shoves his face into Vash’s hair. “I’m sorry.”
Vash whines against his neck in objection. There’s nothing to be sorry about.
Wolfwood pulls Vash closer. “Sleep. I’ll be here.”
Vash sighs, relaxing for the first time since they arrived in their room, falling asleep curled up next to him. Wolfwood follows soon after.
Morning comes with sunlight hitting Wolfwood in the face. Coming into consciousness, he feels a heavy weight sit on top of him. Opening his eyes reveals Vash sleeping on top of him, face shoved into his neck with his blanket spread out on his backside. Wolfwood indulges in pressing his fingers into Vash’s hair, massaging his scalp. Vash stirs, humming in contentment. That’s a good sign.
“Doing okay?” Wolfwood's voice rambles with sleep.
Vash shifts above him, getting into a more comfortable position without getting off. “Yeah,” he murmurs, rubbing his face into Wolfwood’s neck. He places a kiss there. “Thank you.”
Wolfwood reciprocates the kiss with one on Vash’s head. Vash presses a smile into his skin.
They stay in bed a little while longer.