Wolfwood got himself captured, like an idiot.
He's an ex-assassin dammit. It’s child's play with the way a bounty hunter disguised themselves as a bubbling traveller and distracted him long enough for another to stab a tranquillizer to his neck.
Wolfwood’s gotten soft. And he has a particular spikey-haired man to blame.
The bounty hunters were smart enough to use him as bait. Not smart enough when Vash fights harder for someone else other than for himself. So acting like a good piece of bait, Wolfwood sits and waits in a makeshift basement cell, chained to a wall. The only times he isn’t chained are for food and bathroom breaks under watch. He kept drugged up enough all the while so his motor skills are fucked up to do anything about his situation. He got roughened up by some of the hunters but nothing more than a few bruises. Their time is focused on getting Vash.
Wolfwood waits three days for Vash to find him.
He knows Vash has arrived judging by the hurried footsteps upstairs and the muffled yelling. Some gunfire is heard. His mouth is taped, courtesy of throwing insults at the men, so he can't yell to signal Vash where he is.
The fight upstairs ends in about twenty minutes. It takes another five for Vash to find him.
When Vash approaches the cell, Wolfwood sees his dreadful state. There's dried blood under his nose, fresh blood on his temple, and he has a split lip. Wolfwood can see a bruise forming on his neck underneath the high collar.
Vash’s tense shoulders droop as soon as he sees him as if the entire weight of the planet slid off in his relief. Wolfwood doesn't think he’s worth that much.
Wolfwood scans for unseen injuries. Vash looks very put together for someone who went through a dozen hunters. When Vash tries his hardest to look put together it usually means he's two steps away from keeling over.
“Hey, Wolfwood.”
It's a good thing the tape is hiding his mouth because Vash won't see the grimace he puts on after hearing the tone of his voice. Vash got beat up and yet he still sounds so soft.
Vash grabs the keys to the cell and unlocks it before going for the cuffs around Wolfwood’s wrists. Wolfwood breathes a sigh of relief now that his sour wrists are freed. The relief is cut short when he notices a darker shade of red on Vash’s front, missable if you aren’t looking straight. There are also cuts on the fabric.
“Spikey.”
Vash ignores him in favour of helping him stand.
“Vash.”
Vash clenches his jaw. “Later.”
Wolfwood sighs, giving up for now. Vash looks too tired to argue.
Vash looks him over for injuries. “Are you okay?”
“I just have some scrapes and drugs. You look worse than me.”
Vash frowns at him.
Wolfwood wipes the frown and the blood from Vash’s lips with a sleeve. “Nothing serious. The drugs are wearing off. I can stand, see?” He makes a show of spreading his arms wide.
Vash still frowns.
Wolfwood sighs. “Let’s get out of here.”
Vash keeps a hand on his back as they leave the cell and tails behind him as they go up the stairs. Wolfwood glances at a few men knocked out on the floor. He huffs. They got what was coming for them. When they leave the hideout, Vash coughs into his hand. He stumbles but catches himself. Wolfwood doesn’t miss the blood on Vash’s hand nor the blood dripping on the sand as he moves.
Vash is hiding his injuries.
Wolfwood loops an arm around Vash's middle and notices the strained wheeze he lets out. He grabs Vash’s arm and drapes it over his shoulders to hold him up.
“I’m fine,” comes Vash’s clipped tone.
He’s not fine. “Vash—”
“Please,” Vash whispers. Then he says, “Until we get back to the hotel.”
Wolfwood grinds his teeth but stays quiet. Vash exhaustion becomes apparent, the adrenaline wearing off as they make their way to the hotel at the edge of town. They're lucky it's the kind that avoids the front desk to avoid questionable stares.
When they enter the room, Vash is leaning heavily against him for support. Wolfwood drags him to the bathroom to sit on the toilet lid. Vash’s body sags, having no strength to hide. He hangs his head and closes his eyes. Kneeling in front of him, Wolfwood finally has the chance to examine him. The cuts on the front of his coat allow the blood to seep through, staining the fabric.
“Vash,” Wolfwood calls.
Vash hums. He tilts his head up to squint at Wolfwood, making the bags under his eyes more prominent. His hazy look confirms he has a concussion. Vash shuts his eyes again when Wolfwood cups his cheek.
“What’s the damage?” Wolfwood coaxes.
Vash doesn’t answer immediately, likely choosing his words carefully or maybe the words aren't coming to him. He leans his head into Wolfwood’s palm. “I haven't slept for three days,” he slurs.
Well that much is obvious. Wolfwood was able to get some shuteye when the hunters were asleep while Vash searched for him for days without any rest.
“Maybe I got a few wrinkles from stress,” Vash continues.
Wolfwood lets out a humourless snort at Vash trying to jest. A deflection. He pulls his hand away to reach for the buttons of his coat.
Vash straightens up at that, leaning away. “Wolfwood, you need to—”
“Rest, I know. But you’re hurt.” Wolfwood starts at the buttons on Vash’s collar but he leans away.
“I can do it myself.”
Vash reaches for his buttons, unfastening them in an uncoordinated manner. The bruise on his neck is now visible. It's a handprint.
Wolfwood pushes his hands away to get the coat undone quicker than Vash. “I'll do the rest.” He can't watch Vash struggle anymore and a sense of urgency pushes him to hurry up.
Vash whines but Wolfwood ignores him. He quickly unfastens the buttons and sees the damage.
Vash’s underarmour is cut up. Blood seeps through the cuts that were able to reach his skin, some deeper than others. The tight underarmour keeps just enough pressure on the wounds to stem some of the bleeding.
“One got the best of me when I got hit in the head,” Vash rasps. “My coat and armour slowed them down enough.”
Wolfwood can fill in the rest. Vash was strangled by the neck while a bounty hunter—the fucker—ripped his coat open when he realized Vash had protective gear and proceeded to force his way through it. Vash was either going to get stabbed to death or bleed out.
Wolfwood grits his teeth—Vash is worse than he had thought. He’s going to chew Vash out later for hiding this, for insisting on walking while his gut was torn. He also wants to pay a visit to the bounty hunters and chew them out, maybe fire a few bullets of his own for hurting Vash. He throws away the thought the next second—Vash doesn’t need that right now.
Wolfwood carefully removes the red coat off Vash and leaves it off to the side. It’ll need to be patched up later. Vash’s boots come off next and the rest of his gear until he’s just in his briefs and top armour.
“‘s cold,” Vash complains. His arms on his lap twitch as if he wants to wrap them around himself for warmth.
The wounds need to be stitched up.
“Don’t move,” Wolfwood says as he leaves the bathroom. He rushes to get their medical kit. When he returns, Vash has a faraway look on his face. Wolfwood gets the supplies he needs from the kit—a needle, stitches, gauze, bandages, and a towel from the nearby rack. He turns to Vash. “We’re gonna get that off you, okay?”
Vash doesn’t look at him, gaze directed past his shoulder.
Wolfwood cups his cheek again to get his attention. “Vash, are you with me?”
Vash gaze moves towards him. He blinks. “Yeah.”
Wolfwood taps Vash’s shoulder. “I’m going to take this off, okay?”
Vash nods silently.
Wolfwood has seen Vash put on and remove his armour enough times to do it himself. Taking a deep breath, Wolfwood takes off the ruined top. Vash makes a pained noise when it’s peeled off his wounds. Just as the blood starts to flow, Wolfwood presses the towel to his stomach. Vash doubles over, resting his head on Wolfwood’s shoulder. His breaths fan Wolfwood’s neck. With one hand on the towel, Wolfwood places the other on Vash’s nape, mindful of the bruise on his neck, to comfort him.
“I’m sorry. I’m supposed to be looking after you,” Vash murmurs.
Wolfwood hushes him. “Just let me take care of you.”
They sit like this until the towel is soaked red. Wolfwood grabs the needle and stitches before removing the towel and leaving it in the bathtub. He takes a look at the stab wounds—there are four deep gashes. Time to get to work.
Vash is in an uncomfortable position for stitching but Wolfwood doesn’t want to risk moving him until his wounds are patched so he prepares the needle and thread and begins the gruelling task. Vash gasps when the needle pokes his skin, hands gripping Wolfwood to ground himself. He makes small noises until all four wounds are sown. Next, Wolfwood places the gauze over the wounds and wraps rows of bandages around Vash’s middle.
With the worst part over, Wolfwood pats Vash on the back. “Vash?”
Vash’s body only trembles in response.
Wolfwood holds Vash up with an arm around his back and a hand on his jaw. Leaning back, he finds Vash crying. Wolfwood’s heart aches.
He rubs Vash’s back. “Hey, the worst part is over. Just need to clean your head.”
Vash sniffles. “Okay.”.
Wolfwood grabs another towel to clean the blood and tears from Vash’s face and then at his temple. He places gauze on the small head wound and wraps a bandage around Vash’s head. With Vash taken care of—for the most part—Wolfwood wipes his hands clean on the towel. He can relax a little bit better.
Wolfwood carefully lifts Vash into his arms and carries him to bed. Stepping away to grab Vash’s travel bag, Wolfwood fishes out loose clothes and helps dress him. Vash still has tears in his and is visibly upset when Wolfwood removes his prosthetic and drapes the bedsheet over him.
Wolfwood sits at the edge of the bed. “Angel, what's wrong?”
Vash is even more sullen at the pet name. “What about you?”
Wolfwood bites back the I’m fine. “I’ll be good as new after I clean up and sleep.” He stands, thinking of taking a shower, but then freezes when Vash lets out a panicked sob.
“Please stay,” Vash stammers.
Maybe he can take a shower later.
Wolfwood sits back down and cards his fingers through Vash’s hair. “I just need five minutes, I want to smell less like shit.”
Vash relents easily enough, not without mumbling, “I don’t care if you smell like shit.”
Wolfwood grabs his own pair of clean clothes and heads to the bathroom. He dumps his dirtied suit on top of Vash’s coat and gear and quickly rinses his hair in the sink. After towel drying his hair, he puts on clothes and is out of the bathroom after five minutes as promised. Vash has a teary pout on his face when he sees him.
Wolfwood climbs into bed next to him, turning to face him. Vash attempts to do the same but whimpers in pain.
Wolfwood pushes him down to lie on his back. “Stop, you’re gonna hurt yourself.”
Vash lets out another whimper at being unable to move. He slides sideways to move closer to Wolfwood and presses his forehead against his.
Wolfwood places his hand on Vash’s jaw. “You almost gave me a scare there.”
“You?” Vash utters, voice wobbly., “you disappeared. They wouldn't tell me you were alive. I mean, I would’ve still come to find you even if you weren’t but—”
Wolfwood rubs away a stray tear with his thumb. “I’m okay.”
Vash exhales, closing his eyes. “Yeah.”
Wolfwood watches Vash breath for a moment, noticing his breathing is less strained and the shivering has died down. He luckly heals fast, only needing a day or two to rest, but he isn’t so lucky to avoid getting scars. Wolfwood hopes he doesn’t get any from today.
Next time Wolfwood will do better to avoid this mess, avoid Vash having to hurt himself to save him.
With both of them safe in bed, Wolfwood waits for Vash to fall asleep before following suit.