Vash doesn't get sick.
He recalls getting a cold once, suffering from body aches and a runny nose. Rem had nursed him for a week until he was fit enough to move again. That was decades ago, and he hasn't gotten another since. Maybe it's because of his weird physiology that prevents him from getting sick like humans do.
What if the loss of his huge amount of Plant power also spells the loss of his robust immune system?
When the dust settled and humanity began to rebuild, Vash offered Wolfwood to help build the orphanage, feeling partially responsible for it getting destroyed. Miss Melanie insisted it wasn't his fault, but he persuaded her that it'd be faster if they had more hands helping, and as a friend of Wolfwood and now Livio, he wanted to.
It takes a couple of weeks of hard work, laying out the frame, lifting and moving building materials, and working with Wolfwood, Livio and some folks from the nearest town, who saw them and offered to help out, to complete the task. Wolfwood and Livio carry the brunt of the manual labour, an entire league on their own. Vash is no slacker, but keeping up with Wolfwood and Livio is a struggling feat even for his own inhuman prowess. He felt winded many times trying to keep up.
Vash noticed he didn't have the same inhuman strength as before, but that didn't stop him. He's familiar with the pain of a gunshot wound, the unsteadiness of blood loss, and the ache of a bruise when someone takes out their frustrations on him. So when he felt lightheaded while standing up too fast at the tail-end of finishing building the orphanage, he brushed it off as needing a short break. He also dismissed the dull, pulsing ache in his body—he's working hard, so that's expected. His appetite escaped him sometimes, skipping some snacks Melanie offered him, which earned a suspicious look from Wolfwood.
He didn't recognize all the signs that his body was telling him to slow down, until one hot afternoon playing with the kids, a day after rebuilding the orphanage. Vash supposes all the power he used up would someday come back to bite him in the ass.
His day starts with a headache, waking up in the spare room Melanie insisted he use during his stay. He has a light breakfast, only taking a few bites before his stomach refuses any more before he's dragged to play outside with the kids. The harsh sunlight worsens his headache, which pounds between his eyes as he tries to keep up with the little balls of energy.
After faking a trip after getting tackled, Vash lies on the ground longer than normal to catch his breath before standing to continue the roughhousing. The desert heat hits him then, causing him to stumble and scrape his knees on the ground, barely catching himself on his hands. He's too dazed from the short fall to hear the kids shout his name. His head is killing him, and his body is sore. One of them—Alice—helps him stand on his feet.
"Sorry, I think I need a time-out," Vash tells them.
The kids don't object, seeing how worn out he looks. Alice holds his hand while they head towards the door.
"Nico! Vash isn't feeling well!" she yells as soon as they're inside.
If his head didn't feel like splitting in two, Vash would've huffed and pouted at being tattled on. He's fine. He's fine.
Vash hears Wolfwood's rushed footsteps as he meets them in the foyer. His expression turns concerned when he notices Vash's flushed face.
"What's wrong?"
Vash opens his mouth, but Wolfwood cuts him off.
"You look awful."
Vash grimaces. "I'm okay, I just scraped myself."
"Scraped, huh." Wolfwood doesn't look convinced. He turns to Alice. "I'll take it from here." He rests a hand behind Vash's back as they head towards the kitchen.
Vash ignores the burning itch under his skin and fights the pain stinging between his eyes. "I'm fine."
Wolfwood ignores him. "You haven't been eating a lot."
"I'm just not that hungry."
"Sure. That doesn't explain why you look like you're gonna keel over."
Vash grimaces at Wolfwood's nagging, pushing past him. "I just need to sit down."
After he says that, his eyesight blurs as the pressure in his eyes and head becomes too much. The kitchen chair is too far to reach before he actually does keel over. Consciousness escapes him for a few seconds, vision going dark and ears ringing. There's a light touch on his head and a muffled voice.
He doesn't know how much time has passed until the headache and the ringing in his ears subsides enough for him to open his eyes. Wolfwood's scared face takes up his vision.
"Vash?"
Vash opens his mout, but all that comes out is a cough. His throat is dry.
Wolfwood's face twists into concern before turning away to speak to someone. He turns back and, with him, places a cool towel on Vash's forehead.
"Idiot tells me he's fine," Wolfwood whispers to him without any heat.
Vash tries to manage an apologetic smile—he thought he was fine—but it looks more like a wince.
Wolfwood lifts him into his arms and carries him to his room. Vash shuts his eyes when the world tilts from the movement and makes his head spin. He opens his eyes when Wolfwood lies him on the soft mattress of his bed.
"Sorry," Vash murmurs.
Wolfwood purses his lips but doesn't snap at him. "Just rest, okay? No more pushing yourself."
Vash doesn't argue with him before closing his eyes. He sleeps for most of the day, attempting to catch up on the rest he missed during the weeks of construction. There's an unsettling feeling looming inside as his body gets weaker and his headache morphs into an uncomfortable heat, a low flame that's waiting to ignite. Wolfwood checks in on him to make sure he's alright. So does Melanie, who gives him food that's easy on the stomach. He does his best, but he eats less than half of what she gives him.
The sickness should be gone after a good, long night's rest, he thinks.
Who was he kidding?
Vash wakes up with a groan before dawn with his body aching and hot all over. His stomach is also putting up a fuss. He decides to sleep some more, hoping another couple of hours will help.
He's rudely awakened later when his stomach wants to upend itself.
Stumbling into the bathroom in his weakened state, Vash kneels in front of the toilet and heaves, gripping the bowl to hold himself up. Only bile comes out. He hasn't eaten anything for hours. The retches only make him weaker, and his body hurts all over, causing some tears to slip past his eyes. The contractions stop after a couple more heaves.
While catching his breath, he spots white on his right arm where feathers stick out of his skin. A different kind of nausea hits him.
With all of his attention on his arm, he doesn't hear footsteps approaching the bathroom.
"Vash?"
Vash looks up to find Wolfwood at the doorway. Judging by the look on the other man's face, he must look awful with spit on his lips and sweat clinging to his skin. He lacks the energy to muster a fake smile and pretend he's okay.
Wolfwood glances at his arm before kneeling beside him, pressing his palm to his forehead. "Fever," he says, moving Vash's sweaty bangs away from his face. He flushes the toilet to get rid of the bile in it. "Can you stand?"
Vash nods. The lingering nausea is still causing his stomach to churn, but all he wants to do is lie down.
Wolfwood leaves his side for a moment to grab a cup of water and a tissue. He holds the cup for Vash to take a sip. Vash swishes the water in his mouth once, twice, and spits it into the toilet bowl to get rid of the bitter aftertaste. Wolfwood uses the tissue to wipe his mouth for him before chucking it into the bowl and flushing again. He moves Vash's arm to lay it across his shoulders. "Let's get you out of here."
Vash lets Wolfwood gently maneuver him, lifting him into his arms instead of leaving him struggling to stand, and bringing him back to bed. Wolfwood tucks the sheets up to his chin before brushing the hair away from the other's face. A soft look passes through his features that Vash rarely gets to see. "Go to sleep. I'll be here."
The exhaustion weighing Vash down is enough for him to pass out soon after into a restless sleep. He writhes as his body is wracked with chills and aches, unable to get proper rest as he slips in and out of consciousness. The times when he's able to keep his eyes open longer than a few seconds, Wolfwood is there to wipe the sweat from his face and feed him water.
At some point, his fever breaks for a bit. He hazily looks up at the ceiling, unmoving.
The door to his room opens, and he turns to see Wolfwood holding a bowl. It better not be food. Just the thought makes Vash want to hurl.
Wolfwood places the bowl on the side table and sits at the edge of the bed. "Feeling any better?"
"No," Vash rasps. He's weak, he's tired, and he aches.
Wolfwood touches his forehead to check his temperature before frowning. Vash leans into his touch for brief comfort.
Wolfwood turns to grab the bowl. "Melanie made you something to eat."
Vash shakes his head, a whine slipping past his lips as his stomach rolls.
"We'll go slow." Wolfwood pets his hair to coax him. "You'll feel better once you eat something."
Wolfwood helps him sit up against the headboard. The movement causes his sore muscles to hurt. Wolfwood dips a spoon into the bowl and brings what looks like plain porridge to his lips. Vash recoils.
"You'll feel better, I promise," Wolfwood attempts to persuade with a whisper.
Vash braces himself before parting his lips so Wolfwood can dip the food into his mouth. He chews slowly on the porridge before swallowing. It doesn't upset his stomach. Wolfwood gauges him for a minute before bringing another spoonful to his lips. Vash takes another bite. They continue this after he's eaten half of the porridge, when his stomach refuses to eat any more.
Wolfwood stands with the half-empty bowl. "Get some rest. I'll be around if you need anything."
Vash nods, immensely grateful for Wolfwood's warm presence while feeling miserable. He feels a bit pathetic for being too frail to feed himself and making Wolfwood look after him like a sickly child. Wolfwood feeds him again later, and this time, it goes smoother as he eats a bit more and feels less nauseous, gaining some strength after eating.
Nighttime comes. Vash hopes to sleep away the rest of his fever.
He dreams—a fever-induced nightmare plays out his worst fears. He's no stranger to being haunted by July and the destruction he caused from losing his grip on power, a reminder that will always weigh on his subconscious, but that's not what's tormenting him. What torments him is destroying the orphanage and everyone in it. One wrong move and it's gone.
Awful. He doesn't need to picture blowing up one of the few places he can call home and killing innocent children. Killing Wolfwood. His power only brings destruction and chaos. He should leave before it gets ugly.
Vash wakes up with a gasp, which turns into a cough as he tries to catch his breath. His throat seizes, causing him to choke on nothing but his fear. He doubles over at the edge of the bed, coughing into his hand, trying to cover the noise he makes. The feathers on his right arm catch his eye. They're long and standing sharp from his distress. Looking at them fills him with the urge to flee, but he has no strength to do so when all he can do is struggle to breathe.
There's the sound of the door opening and footsteps rounding the bed towards him. Wolfwood crouches in front of him, worry written all over his face. Vash feels guilty. His coughing must have woken him up. Wolfwood was always a light sleeper when there was trouble, especially when it concerned Vash.
Vash feels exactly how he looks, a mess with feathers sticking out everywhere, through his shirt, giving him a gnarly appearance. The tears streaming down his face add some patheticness to it. A scary, pathetic thing he is.
It doesn't stop Wolfwood from reaching out and wrapping his arms around him, pulling him close to his chest. Vash buries his face into his shoulder and focuses on breathing. Wolfwood whispers something while running his fingers through his hair until his body loosens and the coughing stops. Vash clings to him while he's tucked back into bed, not wanting to let go. Wolfwood stays, pulling the covers over their bodies. Vash passes out soon after listening to Wolfwood's heartbeat.
Vash wakes up to the sound of wood scratching. The sunlight shining through the window makes him squint as he finds Wolfwood sitting in a chair next to his bed. His attention is focused on carving a piece of wood in his hands. Vash observes the carving before lifting his eyes to stare at his face. It could be the exhaustion messing with his thoughts, or the fondness that's growing each day, but Wolfwood looks handsome like this, sporting a small frown as he's unconcerned with anything besides the wood in his hands. A sight for sore eyes.
Wolfwood notices he's being watched and looks up to find him awake. He leans over to brush the hair away from Vash's face. "Your eyes look clearer. How do you feel?"
Vash resists leaning into his touch. "I think the worst is over." The dull ache in his body is fading, not as oppressive as before when he couldn't move without his muscles protesting. His stomach rumbles.
Wolfwood hears his stomach and grins. "Good. I got some snacks for you." He hands over a plate full of dried fruit and nuts.
Vash sits up against the headboard, his muscles straining as he moves, and takes the plate. He munches on a fruit, glad that his appetite is back. The sound of scratching picks up again as Wolfwood continues his woodcarving. "Whatcha making?"
Wolfwood holds up the piece of wood, rotating it between his fingers. It has four limbs sticking out and a tail. "Trying to make a cat. Keyword: trying. Haven't done this in a long while."
Vash can see the intricate details that resemble fur on the figure. "I think it looks good so far."
Wolfwood hums. "Let's hope it stays that way."
Vash finishes the food, leaving the plate on the table beside the bed before lying back down. He lies on his side to watch Wolfwood concentrate on his task. His hands handle the knife and wood with care, making quick work of carving out the shape of the cat's neck. Vash lifts his gaze to Wolfwood's face. The other doesn't notice his stare.
The urge to reach out to the man fills Vash. He remembers what happened last night, when Wolfwood didn't waste a second to reach out to him when his physical appearance was coming undone. The feeling has been wrestling inside him for a while, growing worse the longer he shares this new life with Wolfwood. Vash wants to be closer.
Vash slides his hand across the bed in Wolfwood's direction without thinking. The movement has Wolfwood looking up, eyeing his hand before looking at his face. Wolfwood must see something in his expression when he gives him a particular exasperated look, the one that's more soft than annoyed.
"What's with that look?" Wolfwood asks.
Vash doesn't answer, he doesn't need to.
Wolfwood puts away the wood and carving utensils on the table. He climbs onto the bed and lies next to Vash, laying an arm over the other's waist. Vash shuffles closer to rest his forehead on Wolfwood's chest where his heart is.
"Thank you," Vash whispers.
"Yeah, yeah. You better do the same when I get sick." Wolfwood waves off the gratitude as he gets comfortable on the bed, burying his face into Vash's hair. "And no more pushing your luck. Can't have you getting sick again and worrying the kids and Melanie."
Vash smiles, hearing the unsaid and me. Wolfwood is too kind to him.
Closing his eyes, Vash falls asleep listening to Wolfwood's breathing, thinking about a future where someone is always there for him whenever he gets sick.