#i can't even say goodbye to him | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

thegeminisage · 4 months

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ohhhh it's tng update time. i have a lot to catch up on. wednesday we did "ensign ro" and "silicon avatar" and last night we did "disaster" and "the game."

a brief interruption to amend an error on my previous tng liveblog concerning the episode "redemption." i did NOT mention the part where data got his own command and the first officer was racist to him about it. my brain was so numbed by klingon happenings - and again, they're fine episodes, it was MYYY fault for watching both of those episodes at once AND the second one with a bad connection (we had to reconnect like 1000000 times), but due to this i did straight up forget about data's role here. my thoughts are: this could and should have been the a plot of an entire episode, not the b plot of worf's episode. this late in the game, you kind of run the risk of data's big episodes becoming too same-y - that usually what happens is that someone is misguided or prejudiced in their beliefs about him and are in the end proven wrong - but i think the first command is different enough to be distinct. data building genuine trust with his actions and not his words would have been really fun!! especially if he models his captaining like he does his art - by picking bits and pieces of his real-life examples, like riker & picard. it's a shame they wasted this on a b-plot :(

ANYWAY.

ensign ro: i have to admit i wasnt sure about my girl ro at first. i absolutely support her cause and her beliefs but there was one part where. and i dont remember specifics because this was on wednesday. they like asked her to do something and she didn't and i support her but GIRL if you fuck around and dont do your job they will send you back to space jail. so i was worried that she was stupid in like the literal sense

fortunately she fucking RULES. i liked the part where bev and deanna were like can we sit down :D and she was like no <3 and they had to leave. but i also liked guinan getting through to her and becoming her friend too. i think ro should kiss some women about it (more on this later)

i was kind of bummed riker wasnt the one to let her put her earring back on since he was the dick who made her take it off, but at least she did get to put it back on. i was soooo mad when he made her remove it

LOVE to find out more about the cardassians. i'm excited for that freaky guy and the dr he wants to fuck in ds9, this feels like a real prelude moment

also, love the barber in this episode. in a world where they no longer have to even cook food, haircutting is miraculously still done by hand

silicon avatar: i had a lot of mixed feelings about/issues with this one initially but the ending ultimately took it into watchable territory on account of it popping the fuck off

biggest issue is that they basically retconned the hell out of the first episode this crystal monster was in (the iconic datalore aka "ARE YOU PREPARED FOR THE KIND OF DEATH YOU'VE EARNED LITTLE MAN")

in that ep lore was DEFINITELY able to communicate with it without all the drama and he also communicated enough with it to be like "hey, if you don't eat me, i can show you where lots of edible people are" which solves the question of it's intelligent and whether or not it understands it's eating people. the fact that were uwu woobifying this giant people eating death machine is hilarious but also it stretches my suspension of disbelief way too far. like, get outta here.

second biggest issue was the emotional whiplash from this old lady. first she's racist to data and then she wants to butter him up for therapy reasons and finally she's delusional enough to believe her dead son is in there. i actually did like her arc and the idea that she did something monstrous, but it felt like we had too many things crammed in there...again, i love data and i love when data gets big episodes and moments but i wish we could pump the brakes a little with EVERYONE who meets him being anti android or whatever. even the episode where he gets a gf was a welcome change despite it not being very good because it wasn't just more people having doubts because data is an android. and if I'M tired of it, imagine how HE feels. geez. there was no point in having her start from a place of hostility when it didn't go anywhere and actually i probably would have been more tricked into believing she was normal if she HADN'T come at data like that

THAT SAID, the core story of "i will murder this sentient life form because it killed my son even knowing he would hate me for it" is actually metal as fuck. i really liked it. and i think it was sneaky and clever to have her basically ask to use data as a tape recorder before she fully fell off the deep end because who wouldn't want to hear a recording of a deceased loved one? but it's when she asks again, and basically asks data to roleplay him, that you realize her grief is making her bonkers - or that being around data is bringing too much stuff up.

anyway issues aside the end really fucked. she was like data absolve me of the murder i just committed in my dead son's name and he was like sorry queen i can't! and then they just rolled credits. bonkers.

also, can we pour one out for riker? he got uh. i mean he had all of that going on with beverly like just a handful of episodes ago and i was SOOO hoping he was gonna get laid but instead he got. trauma :(

disaster: i LOVED this one. i loved that it paired characters we don't normally see together - like geordi and beverly for instance - and i loved that quite literally everyone got to get up to batshit insane shenanigans at the same time. picard has to learn to interact with the world's most adorable children. deanna is captain of the starship and she should kiss ro about it. geordi and beverly are gonna open the cargo bay to space some radioactive barrels and while they're holding onto a metal ladder with their BARE HANDS. riker is carrying DATA'S DETACHED HEAD around the crawlspaces and meanwhile in ten forward worf is delivering a fucking baby

side bar which uh exit do we think klingon babies come out of. like if they've got two of everything does the baby just pick one or do they have two whole wombs too...do you think klingons are like "oh most of us come out of the right side but watch out for that guy he's fucked in the head i think he came out of his mom's left vagina" i think that'd be hilarious

anyway worf did a great job.

also pleased with the kids this ep...normally star trek kids aren't uh. great. like they're annoying or weird or just not great actors because, you know, kids. but all 3 of those kids had distinct personalities and they were all extremely charming. absolutely masterful casting. they were so fucking cute

idk why but when deanna became enterprise captain she immediately looked 10x hotter and gayer. her disagreements with ro were FRAUGHT with sexual tension. THEY SHOULD KISS.

that said my one true pairing for tng is always gonna be riker e worf e deanna. hands down best moment for these three so far was when riker was like you just cant stay away from the big chair can you ;) and she was like oh im not cut out to be a captain but maybe i could be first officer since i HEAR there aren't many qualifications and worf gives riker this incredulous double-take like "are you gonna let her get away with that" and he's grinning like oh yeah he's Gonna. there truly is such a horrific lack of sexual/romantic energy in this show but whenever deanna and riker start flirting we finally get fed

the game: MY BABY BOY WESLEY IS BACK..........he got tall i MISSED HIM

i loved the opening of this episode. riker seems to have a 50/50 chance these days on whether or not any given encounter with a woman is gonna be an ethical slut moment or a close encounters moment and i am now referring to this phenomenon as riker roulette. is he getting ethically seduced and/or ethically seducing others? or is it....................you know. anyway rip to him for metaphorically bringing an std back to the enterprise from risa

what was this whole thing with deanna eating chocolate also. is all of season 5 gonna be like this? to be clear i'm not complaining. we have a fucking dearth of, sorry, flirty fun and fresh shippy moments for anyone in tng, generally speaking. it's about time they picked up.

my one gripe with this episode is that it is REALLY AWKWARD to have them set this up as "this VR headset is giving people orgasms" and then twice have wesley's mom try and force one on him. like they didn't say orgasms but the subtitles kept going "pleasured gasp" so idk what i was supposed to think those headsets were doing. like i get this was probably unintentional on their part but i still hated it

also it sucks that wesley got to have a little tea break with picard but didn't have time to hang out with his mom...she was barely in his departure episode, too. the writers clearly prioritize his relationship with picard BECAUSE WESLEY IS THEIR AFFAIR BABY! i will die on this hill. those guys fucked and had a baby and got embarrassed abuot it and now wesley doesn't know he's going to inherit male pattern baldness

okay. that concludes this tng update. normally this is the part where i say, "next, we are doing..." and then i list the episodes. i want to take an extra moment to bring added attention to it this time because this time we are doing two VERY. SPECIAL. EPISODES.

NEXT: UNIFICATION PART I AND PART II

NEXT: SPOCK!!!!!!!!!!!!!

#personal #star trek blogging #tng lb #TONIGHT!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!#actually for me it's tomorrow. i typed this it at like 4am before bed and scheduled it. i might even still be asleep right now who knows #but when this posts: TONIGHT!!!!!!#earlier just the thought of seeing spock again so soon had me welling up. embarrassing.#i've been looking forward to and dreading this for so long #we're going in release order so after we watch these eps and one more it's undiscovered country #and then that'll be the last of leonard nimoy's spock i haven't seen finally done #and there will be no new leonard nimoy spock for me ever again :(#sorry to quinto and who tf ever in strange new worlds but they just can't compare.#like of course i can rewatch star trek as many times as i like. and i have rewatched it So Many Times #but in some very tiny way this will be saying goodbye to him and i just can't bear the thought #AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA

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empoleon · 1 year

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are you always so restless (yes you are, is that hard?)

rated t, one shot, 4233 words

also available to read here

Wolfwood purposefully ignores the tickle in the back of his throat. It’s nothing, but on the off chance that it is something, it’s likely caused by the ever present sand dunes that are really starting to make his eyes hurt.

But again, it’s nothing. He squints for a moment as he glances up at the sky, almost stopping to wonder if this is some sort of cruel joke—there is absolutely no way the sun was this hot a few hours ago.

‘The sun shall not smite thee by day, nor the moon by night.’ He recalls a specific passage and almost trips over a large rock, struggling to regain his footing.

What a load of shit, Wolfwood grunts.

It’s nothing.

Meryl is talking about something with Roberto—reports, news articles, perhaps including that they need to charge the Jeep again soon—Wolfwood mostly tunes it out.

He catches her glance at him a few times, something akin to worry knitting her brows, but it’s gone within minutes.

They’re all waiting for Vash to come back with their canteens, having elected him to be the one to fill them this time.

It’s been almost half an hour though, and Wolfwood isn’t sure how much longer he’ll be able to stand without—

A sneeze rips through him once, then twice, and he has to steady himself by grabbing the Punisher.

A deafening silence follows.

“Not a single word—” Wolfwood starts to threaten, but he’s cut off by the one voice he doesn’t want to hear.

“I’m back!”

Vash is trotting towards them—a feat in its own right, with how uneven the sand below their feet can be—arms filled with their supplies and none the wiser to anything that happened moments before his arrival.

Or so Wolfwood thinks.

“You know,” Roberto starts, “it’s probably those Worms you keep eating, Undertaker.”

The ride in the Jeep had been peaceful until that exact moment.

Wolfwood grunts and crosses his arms. “Haven’t you heard of allergies? I’m fine, old man.”

Meryl is staring straight ahead as she drives, but her eyes flicker back at him from the rear view mirror. “He may have a point, you know.”

She drives over a particularly rough patch of sand, sending the Jeep into a steady shake. It makes Wolfwood’s slowly persistent headache feel even worse than he thought was possible.

“Not you too, shorty,” he grumbles, reaching to steady himself by grabbing his seat. This is really starting to grate on his nerves. “I keep tellin’ ya, I’m fine—”

Meryl steps on the breaks right as a giant sandworm launches out of the sand a mere few feet away from the vehicle. The action causes Wolfwood to lurch forward, hands weakly stopping his face from ramming into the headrest of the car seat in front of him.

Vash, sitting across from him, doesn’t even have a chance to react—he does faceplant into the uncomfortable leather of the car seat and whines, rubbing at his eyes.

“Meryl, I can drive for a while, if you want—”

“No,” is heard from both Roberto and Meryl at once. Vash frowns.

“Well, maybe we should stop for the evening? If the Worms are becoming active—”

“The next town isn’t that far off,” Wolfwood finally speaks once he’s certain that things aren’t moving in his vision. He can’t remember the last time he ever felt so dizzy. “I’d rather sleep in a bed.”

Vash glances between him and Meryl. Wolfwood’s tone really didn’t leave much room for any arguments.

“Okay, I’ll try to drive… better,” she starts the Jeep again and grips the steering wheel. “We should be there by nightfall.

Roberto huffs a laugh. “Better buckle up.”

Meryl starts in on that, arguing with him while they continue to travel. Vash remains oddly silent, casting a few curious glances at Wolfwood.

“Nick?”

His voice is quiet, almost a whisper amongst the chatter within the vehicle. He turns to look at Vash, brows furrowing as he mouths ‘what?’

And then Vash, the absolute bastard that he is, gives him a grin that physically hurts Wolfwood to look at and pats his lap, as if he’s volunteering a secret service that only he can provide.

Technically, he is, but Wolfwood is not about to try and unpack those thoughts. His head hurts enough as is.

He settles for what he hopes is a very scathing look, because seriously, there is no way he’s about to rest his head on Vash’s lap.

Meryl swerves the Jeep to the left, presumably avoiding another sandworm, muttering a faint apology that does nothing to help Wolfwood’s throbbing head.

A warm hand carefully touches his shoulder, and suddenly all he can see and feel is Vash.

“Just for a little while,” is all he says while gently tugging on Wolfwood’s arm. “You know I don’t bite,” he adds after a moment, light and teasing.

He wants to say something witty in return, but merely hums a tired reply instead—just this once.

Maybe awkwardly laying down would help. Vash’s lap is simply an added perk.

When Wolfwood comes to, he immediately notices three things:

The first being that they’re still in the Jeep and it’s definitely gotten darker out. That nearby town must’ve been further off than he thought.

The second is something that he is actively trying to fight—there is an overabundance of saliva in his mouth. That never ends well, in his experience.

And the third—Vash’s hand is in his hair, carefully playing with a few strands of it.

He wants to say something, because this is oddly intimate, considering everything, and there is a lot to consider whenever it comes to Vash.

The jeep makes a slow turn and Wolfwood can feel his stomach rolling with the movement. Shit. He swallows and settles on grimacing for now.

“How is he?”

Meryl’s voice is filled with concern, and if Wolfwood knew he wouldn’t be sick, he’d speak up and mock the reporter for being such a softie. Vash must be rubbing off on her.

Vash’s fingers untangle from Wolfwood’s hair and move to his forehead, resting there for a moment.

“He definitely has a fever,” Vash murmurs. He traces along Wolfwood’s brow line. “I wish he had said something sooner.”

“That’s rich coming from you, kid,” Roberto comments. He earns a glare from Meryl and he shrugs.

It is, Wolfwood thinks. He feels Vash move his hand back to his hair, choosing to not say anything else to Roberto’s comment.

Wolfwood tries to focus on Vash’s hand, willfully ignoring the growing unease he feels deep in his stomach.

A comfortable—or rather, a tolerable silence falls upon the Jeep, save for the radio in the background. The voice he hears singing sounds familiar.

Except it’s not quite singing—humming?

Vash is definitely humming. It’s sort of like a soft rumble, one that Wolfwood can feel, but not quite feel, hear and not hear—it doesn’t make much sense. Even with his eyes closed, it’s as though there’s a soft glow accompanying the noise.

It’s extremely pleasant, along with Vash’s fingers in his hair and he prays it can last a little while longer.

Truly, God must have it out for him, because the next thing he remembers is bolting upright and gasping for air as he starts to dry heave.

The motel bedroom has seen better days, probably. Having one grown man practically falling apart in the bed and the other teetering around nervously surely isn’t anything new.

Wolfwood could do without Vash’s nervous energy, though.

“Blondie,” he struggles to speak and it comes out strained. “Stop. Moving.”

Vash freezes by the side of the bed. “Wolfwood?”

“Going to burn a hole in the carpet,” he mumbles, and that finally gets Vash to smile, even if it doesn’t quite reach his eyes.

“How are you feeling?”

Like shit. “’M fine,” he says instead, because it’s easier.

Vash kneels beside the bed and rests his head on his prosthetic. “You sound awful.”

“Thanks,” Wolfwood says, resisting the urge to roll his eyes. “Where—”

“Down the hall,” Vash answers him before he can finish asking. “Roberto paid for the rooms, he said something about you owing him cigarettes, though.”

Wolfwood snorts, but it turns into a wet cough. “He owes me—”

Vash ignores the comment. “I chose to stay with you since I can’t catch… whatever it is you have.”

There is an unspoken acknowledgment there in the way Vash words it—he knows what caused it, but won’t say as much.

“It’s just a bug,” Wolfwood argues, because again, that’s easier. “I doubt I’m contagious, hell, this is nothing—”

“You threw up blood,” Vash tells him, a deep frown forming on his face. “It certainly isn’t nothing.”

Well, shit. “Spikey—”

“Don’t, Nick,” Vash’s voice is entirely too soft now. “Just—don’t, okay?”

Wolfwood sighs and closes his eyes. “Okay,” he gives a small nod of his head and winces, regretting the movement.

“You should rest,” Vash says after a moment. He still doesn’t move from where he’s sitting on the floor.

It’s annoying when Vash gets like this, even more so when Wolfwood can’t do much to fix things.

So he does what his fever-ridden brain thinks is right and stretches out an arm to pat the empty space on the bed next to him.

It’s a start.

“Did I throw up on you?” Wolfwood asks after they have lied together in a shared silence for roughly a half hour. It feels out of place to speak almost, like he should have simply let the quiet air continue to fill the room.

But unfortunately, Wolfwood has to know. He isn’t going to sleep until then.

Vash pulls a face, and even in the dark of the room Wolfwood can tell he’s wincing. “Yeah, but it’s okay, I caught most of it.”

“What?” Wolfwood sounds horrified. “Like, with your hands?”

“Kind of? I mean most of it landed on my lap, so,” Vash shrugs a shoulder. “Meryl was worried about the Jeep getting dirty—”

Wolfwood slaps a hand to his forehead and groans. “That’s disgusting, she can fucking pay for a cleaning if the damn thing needs it.”

“Hmm, you know,” Vash sounds a bit too thoughtful when he speaks, “we’d probably save a few double dollars if we cleaned it ourselves…”

“You’d make a sick priest work?” Wolfwood feigns shock, moving to press his wrist over his eyes. “That’s just cruel, needle-noggin.”

“And here I thought you lived for charitable acts,” Vash slowly starts to sit up, but he’s stopped by a warm hand encircling his wrist. “What?”

Wolfwood, seemingly about to speak, instead starts to cough again.

Vash waits, because he has the patience of a saint—a real one, at that, Wolfwood decides, not some shitty uncanonized one—simply sitting next to him. He moves his wrist out of Wolfwood’s grasp and decides to hold his hand.

When Wolfwood catches his breath, he clears his throat to try again.

“Don’t… go,” he says—he asks, but it’s a very weak attempt.

“To the other bed, you mean?” Vash quirks an eyebrow.

Apparently Wolfwood didn’t catch the fact that the room did have two beds.

He tries to ease his hand out of Vash’s grasp and fails, miserably, all the while Vash, still being the absolute bastard that he truly is, laughs.

Vash helps him to the bathroom twice when he starts to feel nauseous again. Nothing happens at first—once he does throw up Vash is quick to kneel beside him, but hesitates to reach out.

Wolfwood spits into the toilet and lets his head rest on the cool porcelain. It’s soothing.

The hand that eventually starts to rub his back is an added bonus, also cool to the touch, and it makes Wolfwood shiver.

“Sorry,” Vash murmurs, prosthetic hand faltering to settle near Wolfwood’s shoulder. “You okay?”

The feeling is so featherlight and Wolfwood partially wonders if Vash can feel the heat emanating off of his bare skin.

“Yeah,” he replies after a moment, “’M good.”

He can hear Vash sigh and the hand on his shoulder is gone.

“Think you can stand?”

Of course, he wants to say, it’s not like I’m—

“Nick?”

Oh. That tone of voice made sense to him now. He should have realized sooner. Irritation made sense, but this? This is—

Vash is scared for him.

Wolfwood pulls his face away from the ceramic bowl. “Help me up, blondie.”

“You know, if you wanted a hug you simply could have asked me,” Vash’s face is pressed near Wolfwood’s shoulder, more so on the pillow than anything, unable to pull back as he’s being held there by the other man.

He easily carried Wolfwood out of the bathroom and back to the bed in the motel room, but once he stopped near the side of the mattress to help him lie back down, Wolfwood didn’t release his hold around Vash’s shoulders.

Which now led to Vash standing—or rather, half bent over—awkwardly embracing Wolfwood.

It’s not as though he doesn’t want to, but this position is starting to make his lower back twinge with pain.

“Nick, come on,” Vash tries to pull away, “at least let me get comfortable.”

“This is comfortable,” Wolfwood says into the fabric of Vash’s shirt, to which he hears a quiet groan.

“You are such a pain in the ass, you know that?” There is no bite in Vash’s words, but he says it so suddenly and so seriously that it causes Wolfwood to laugh and ease up his grip.

“Hey, it takes one to know one,” he quips.

Vash ultimately decides that he’s right and goes limp, letting his full weight rest on top of Wolfwood, who immediately protests.

“Okay, okay! Get off me already, you idiot,” he pushes Vash to the side of the bed with a huff.

“Now will you rest?” Vash asks again.

He probably should, but the thought of having to lay there in silence with his own thoughts is starting to make him feel nauseous again.

“Talk to me,” Wolfwood turns to his side and is met with Vash giving him a questioning look, eyes softly illuminated in the dark. “I’ll fall asleep faster if you speak.”

“Rude,” he mutters, “is my voice that boring to you?”

“Oh, absolutely, spikey,” Wolfwood exhales through his nose slowly. It helps, a little. “You could tell me a story.”

Vash shifts on the bed slightly. “A story?”

“Used to do it back at the orphanage,” is all Wolfwood says at first, and he knows Vash is waiting for him to continue. “When the kids were sick. It was comforting.”

He doesn’t open up about it much—distant memories still too fresh and constantly present in his mind.

“I’m not sure if I can provide that kind of comfort,” Vash sounds uncertain, and it hurts, because that is simply not true—not true at all.

“Well, you won’t know unless you try, yeah?”

“When I was… huh, I’m actually not sure how old I was,” Vash pauses to consider it. “Definitely half a century ago, I think. Maybe a bit more—”

“I’m gonna start callin’ you grandpa,” Wolfwood decides. “Grandpa Stampede—”

Vash reaches over and pulls his cheek, earning an annoyed swat at his hand. “Shush, let grandpa finish his story, all right? Now where was I…”

The story is a strange one. Vash describes visiting half-empty towns in his youth, stopping to help when help is needed. A true hero’s tale, if Wolfwood ever heard one.

It doesn’t have a happy ending.

“There was this family,” Vash is staring at the ceiling, the too-bright cerulean glow of his eyes faint. “They let us stay for a few days during a bad sandstorm. It was a little cramped, but Brad and I didn’t mind. We were—we were grateful, really.

“Not many families would do that for someone they… didn’t know,” Vash chooses his words carefully, “despite us having helped out the Plant that was ill.”

Not many families would do that for someone like Vash. For someone like him.

“They had a little boy, I’m not sure how old he was, but he couldn’t have been more than five years old.

“He was sick. Some illness that Brad had to explain to me. I asked him if—if it was similar to how my sisters…”

Wolfwood swallows. “Blondie, you don’t have to—”

“I was so naive. I really thought—”

“Vash,” Wolfwood is slowly moving to sit up this time, “stop.”

“I couldn’t help him,” Vash doesn’t bother to look at Wolfwood, knowing full well he can see the tears trailing down his cheeks. “I couldn’t help—humans. And I wanted to so badly. I haven’t tried to do that ever since—”

“Today in the jeep,” Wolfwood is leaning over him now, both arms caging his head on the pillow while he peers down at his face. Vash blinks up at him, frozen.

“In the jeep,” he repeats himself, “I heard you singing earlier.”

Vash lets out a breath he had been holding. “I’m sorry.”

Wolfwood can’t help his sigh of annoyance. “I’m not mad, needle-noggin, but why did you… why?”

Why me?

“I don’t know,” and Vash is being honest, for once, about it. “I wasn’t really thinking too hard about it.”

“Obviously,” he drawls, and Vash snorts wetly. “That’s not—not what I meant, though. Why after all this time?”

Why try again?

Vash closes his eyes. “Because I love you.”

He hesitantly peeks one eye open, possibly expecting the worst after such an admission. Wolfwood is a lot closer now, a mere few inches away from his face.

“We should do it properly, then,” he insists, resting his forehead carefully against Vash’s own.

“Nick…”

Vash brings his hands up to cup his face, flesh and metal thumbs stroking along Wolfwood’s jawline.

He wants to cry. He is crying—he never did stop, and Wolfwood simply remains there through it all, basking in the ethereal glow that Vash’s body emits.

“’M not going anywhere, spikey, you hear me?”

“Yeah, yeah,” Vash’s laugh is warbled. “I hear you.”

“You’re still burning up,” Vash presses his lips to Wolfwood’s forehead.

“Can’t help that,” Wolfwood mutters, eyes closed, “you’re the one who’s a furnace.”

Vash hums in agreement. “I did offer to sleep in the other bed.”

Wolfwood doesn’t argue with that, but he does reach under the covers to grab hold of Vash’s arm.

“I’m not, don’t worry,” Vash teases. He feels the hand on his arm loosen, ever so slightly, but never completely lets go.

“Sleep, Nick,” he loses track of how many times he’s asked the man beside him to rest. The night isn’t going to last forever and they’ll have to leave tomorrow morning.

Again, silence. It stretches on for some time and Vash waits.

Then, “Spikey? Could you… one more time?”

“Could I do what?” He hears a huff of annoyance and smiles.

“Pain in the ass,” he echoes the insult from earlier. “You just want to hear me say it.”

“It’s nice when we’re honest with each other, right?”

Vash moves under the covers, one arm holding it up as an invitation.

Honesty. Definitely not one of Wolfwood’s stronger attributes, but for Vash he can try.

He scoots closer, opting to curl one arm around Vash’s waist, face pressing into his neck.

“One more time. Please,” he whispers against the thrum of Vash’s pulse. This is about as honest as he can get, given the current circumstances.

Vash pulls the blanket up to his shoulder, careful and precise. He angles his head in a way to place a kiss to the crown of Wolfwood’s hair, replying with a soft ‘okay,’ and then he starts to sing.

“Should we wake them?” Meryl’s voice is quiet when she speaks. “They both look… peaceful, surprisingly.”

Roberto leans against the doorframe. “Probably the only peace we’ll be getting today—you heard the innkeeper this morning.”

Bounty hunters were already on the move again, hot on their trail. Nothing new.

“He deserves it,” and whether Meryl is referring to Vash or Wolfwood, no one can be certain.

“Fine,” Roberto steps out the door and into the hallway. “Come on then, newbie, let’s leave them to it.”

The floor creaks and the door is closed softly with an audible click.

“I know you’re awake, needle-noggin,” Wolfwood’s voice is muffled by equal parts blanket and Vash’s shirt.

Sunlight is shining into the inn room now and onto the bed. It feels good, better—definitely not as torturous as it was the other day.

“What gave me away?” Vash asks, disbelieving. His face is still partially buried in dark strands of hair. “I was perfectly still!”

“Well, the squeeze to my ass, for starters,” Wolfwood points out. “You can stop now, by the way.”

Vash does nothing to remove his hand from the area. In fact, he keeps it there for good measure.

“When the door opened it startled me—”

“Right, and you’re still recovering from that?”

“You know me so well, Nick,” Vash croons.

Wolfwood doesn’t dignify that with a response, choosing to slowly untangle himself from Vash’s wandering hands and steadily sit upright. The blanket pools near his waist, and only then does he realize how damp it feels.

“Shit, guess I sweated out the worst of it,” he says. “Sorry if any of that got on ya—”

Vash sits up so unnaturally fast, moving to place a hand on Wolfwood’s chest. His skin is warm, but not too warm, and his heart is steadily beating underneath his fingertips.

He feels so relieved until he sees Wolfwood’s shit-eating grin.

“Couldn’t resist feelin’ me up after all, could you?” He laughs as Vash feels himself start to boil, deftly retracting his hand with an eye roll.

“I’m not—”

“While I’m flattered you like my tits,” Wolfwood catches his hand with ease and brings it up to his lips, “I really should be thanking you for putting up with my sorry ass last night, so,” he presses a kiss to Vash’s knuckles.

Vash’s mouth twitches humorously. “Surely that’s not all?”

Wolfwood releases his hand and leans closer, a mere hair’s breadth away from Vash’s face.

“Definitely not all,” he murmurs, placing a kiss to the corner of Vash’s mouth and nothing more, waiting for permission.

His stubble tickles and it makes laughter bubble up in Vash’s throat. When he tilts his head back Wolfwood aims for his throat, peppering even more kisses across his skin.

He works back up towards Vash’s jaw, lingering there, and Vash finally meets him halfway while cupping his face to bring their lips together.

It’s chaste and it has Wolfwood feeling light, airy, much like the sudden, soft-white downy feathers that curl outward from Vash’s temples.

Huh. That’s new.

Wolfwood should probably comment on that, but Vash is tentatively licking at his bottom lip, and really, all it takes is that one movement for him to open his mouth further and let Vash have him.

But there’s a hand tapping on his shoulder entirely too soon, causing him to pause and take a breath.

Vash is giving him a well-practiced apologetic look. “You taste like vomit.”

Wolfwood doesn’t miss a beat. “You have feathers growing out of your head.”

That gets a rile out of Vash, immediately reaching for his hair with an indignant squawk. Wolfwood’s cackle is downright wicked, but a welcomed sound.

Now all Wolfwood needs are three things:

His shirt, a smoke, and some food. Preferably in that order, but he can make do with what he gets.

The shirt, his beloved white, button down—Vash had used it to clean up the Jeep.

“You’re kidding me, right?” he stares at the blonde when he steps out of the bathroom, the taste of vomit now a thing of the past.

“Ah, no, sorry Nick,” Vash grins sheepishly. “I had to use something!”

“You—damn it, needle-noggin,” he stalks over to the bed where Vash is still lounging. “All right, fork it over.”

He holds out his hand in front of Vash and waits.

Vash’s gaze flickers between his hand and face before shrugging and clasping Wolfwood’s hand into his own, giving it a firm shake.

He even has the audacity to smile at him.

Wolfwood squeezes Vash’s hand hard—prosthetic be damned—as his mouth sets into a scowl. “Your wallet,” he clarifies.

“Oh! Sure,” Vash lets go of his hand and reaches for his jacket, fumbling around inside the pockets. “Why do you…?”

“You’re paying for a new shirt,” Wolfwood informs him. “Nicest one I can find—most expensive I can find.”

It doesn’t faze Vash in the slightest.

“Think you can bring me back a box of donuts too, while you’re at it?”

(Meryl sneezes later that evening when they stop at a local diner before heading off.

Roberto is quick to leave the table, muttering something about how he’s ‘too old to be dealing with this shit.’

Wolfwood follows in suit, pausing only to blow Vash a two-finger kiss and an offhanded remark of ‘good luck!’

Somehow, Vash becomes the designated caretaker anytime one of them falls ill now—he doesn’t mind.

Meryl, however, has a long list of complaints that fall on deaf ears—she is stuck with Vash until further notice.)

#trigun #trigun stampede #vash the stampede #nicholas d wolfwood #vashwood #fanfic #fic #texte #my writing #well. i did it again and remarkably fast (sort of) (ok not really i had been slowly working on this one for like a few weeks GJDFHGS #when i say these 2 make my brain feel funny #anyway ww is sick in this fic because there is a lack of sick ww fics #why aren't u guys making him suffer from the silliest ailments!!!! give him the sniffles i do not give a fuck about his fancy vials #also there is an abnormal amount of dialogue in this fic i am so sorry but i gave these motherfuckers diarrhea of the mouth #it always happens i can't help it i just love dialogue #ok so next fic: small specific wv orphanage au snippet + their gaggle of children (I Am Working On It)#guess what it features? another scene involving a bed!#if i write something and i don't include a scene that involves cuddling/sleeping/whatever in a bed am i even writing........#who knows man. ok i'm done speaking like a fool goodbye peace & love 2 u all <3

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