Takes place during episode 18, Goodbye for Now.
He knew.
Without looking round, he knew the instant Vash entered that bar in Kasted. It suddenly felt as though a massive weight had been lifted from his shoulders...
Though of course the gunman had brought his own particular variety of trouble along for the ride. Wolfwood gritted his teeth and made himself watch his friend's humiliation, annoyed with the girl who'd caused the problem, angry with himself for not finding Vash sooner, and bloody furious with the fat pig of an outlaw who'd forced the gunman into this position in the first place.
As Vash collapsed he'd been the first out of the bar, holding the unconscious, naked gunman close, shielding him from curious onlookers, one hand pressed against the bullet's entry wound and biting his lip as blood welled freely between his fingers. He looked up as Lina and one of the bar's patrons reached them.
"Where's the hospital?"
He'd reluctantly allowed Lina and the other man to take Vash to the small building, hastily retrieving Cross Punisher from the bar and gathering up the gunman's dusty clothes before hurrying after them. Standing outside while the doctor dug out the bullet, anxiety and anger coiled in his gut. Almost taking out his fury on the ungrateful, unfeeling bastards who dared to ridicule the gunman's bravery. Following the grandmother into the operating room, slumping with relief when he heard that the operation to remove the bullet was successful...
Then hovering, unchallenged, eyes closed as he tried to sort through his tangled emotions. Smiling as the grandmother threatened to take off after those who'd hurt the gunman, hurt a loved member of her family.
You've done it again, haven't you, Vash? Without even trying. How can you - how can anyone - be so... loveable..?
As the young and old women left, Wolfwood walked forward, gazing down at Vash.
"You just gonna sleep?"
He tried very hard not to put all of the last two year's grief and fear into his punch to the gunman's face. But it was difficult...
"Snap out of it!"
And then he was finally able to look into those sparkling turquoise eyes again. Just wanting to hold the man close, kiss him, try to make up, somehow, for the lost time.
Vash...
But it was too public here, and Vash was - different.
The doctor and the nurse left the room at his request, warning Wolfwood not to let the patient strain himself. The priest sat on the edge of the wheeled bed - and found himself at a loss for words. He took refuge in the commonplace.
"Well, it's been a long time, Vash the Stampede... I finally found you, you dumb jerk."
And Vash opened up to him. And it hurt. The urge to hold the gunman close was almost overwhelming as he described the fragmented memory, the nightmares, the ache in his heart that the events at Augusta had left him with.
"...I want to live quietly for once... Why are you here, Wolfwood? What brings you to this town? Are you hanging around for a good laugh?"
The priest flinched inside at the almost-inaudible edge of bitterness in the soft voice. A bitterness he'd put there, even if he'd had no choice in the matter. If Legato hadn't called him away...
"Actually, I came to take you away... I need your help." Vash couldn't resist an appeal for help. Could he? "I spent a lot of time combing through Augusta trying to find you." You'll never know how much it hurt, not knowing whether you were dead and buried somewhere or had survived...
He'd tossed the big silver gun he'd carried like some sort of lifeline or talisman for the last two years onto the bed. Vash stared at it blankly.
"Why give it to me?"
"I though you might need it."
"What I need - what I want - is to live my life here - with them..."
For a moment it felt to Wolfwood as though his world had ended. That rejection hurt more than anything he'd ever known. He was only glad he was facing away from Vash as the words hung in the air.
Numb with pain, he'd lashed back, quietly, almost hating himself for the words.
"...All right. If you want this pathetic little existence so bad that you'd give up everything else, then go for it."
Then - not sure whether he was trying to justify the selfishness that wanted Vash back, by his side, in his arms, or trying to pique the gunman's curiosity so that he could follow Legato's orders - he flung out the challenge. Mentioned Knives' name. Then left the room.
And stood outside the door, debating whether to wait and see if Vash rose to the bait, or simply to run and keep running until he'd outdistanced his shattered hopes...
And then Vash had joined him -
"Y'know, I was kind of fond of my new life here." 'was'! Past tense! Wolfwood held his breath, watching the gunman's face from under lowered eyelids, noting the slight smile on his lips. "I really hate to leave."
- and the suns shone again.
"Mr Preacher, please take care of Ericks. Unlike you he's a bumbling fool of a goody goody and a sweet, gentle soul."
Trying very hard not to fidget, to hold himself still as Lina cut Vash's hair, Wolfwood listened to the old woman. In other circumstances he might have felt regret that he was taking away 'one of the family', as she put it - but it was Vash they were talking about. His Vash. He tried to sound sorry, to be sorry, but it sounded false to his ears. And then Vash had reappeared, spike-haired, clean shaven, missing the red coat and strappings and leggings and Wolfwood didn't give a damn because finally, finally, his Vash was back. Swallowing the lump in his throat and fighting back the urge to simply pull the gunman to him and kiss the pain and loneliness away, he'd waved to the small family and headed back into town, Vash at his side.
"So, where're we headed?"
They'd reached the further outskirts of Kasted, and it was really time to stop for the night. Tomorrow Wolfwood would try to find a bike for the rest of their journey. But for now...
Wordlessly, Wolfwood grabbed Vash's wrist and dragged him into the nearest hotel. Minutes later, pushing the bewildered and weakly protesting gunman into their room, he locked the door behind him.
"Wolfw... umph..."
The priest's mouth descended on his, effectively silencing him. Wolfwood tore open Vash's shirt and wrapped his arms around the scarred body, the force of his embrace bruising.
"Do you..." he kissed an eyebrow
"...have any..." a cheekbone
"...idea..." the mole
"...just..." the chin
"...how much..." Vash's jaw
"...I missed you?"
"I'm kinda getting the idea..." Vash moaned into Wolfwood's ear as the priest crushed him against his own body, mouth hot and hungry on the gunman's throat. He slid his hands under Wolfwood's shirt and, almost reverently, stroked the smooth skin. The priest groaned, his face buried in Vash's neck, and pulled him closer, erection solid against the gunman's groin. Meeting an answering hardness.
"You bastard. How could you just vanish like that?"
"You were the one who left!" Vash gasped, head thrown back as Wolfwood bit gently at his collarbone.
"I had to!" He cupped the gunman's face in his hands. "I've been hunting for you for two years, godammit."
"I'm sorry." Vash's eyes were desolate. "After... after Augusta, I just..."
Wolfwood sighed and wiped at the tears beginning to trickle down the pale face, then pulled the gunman back into his arms and moved towards the bed.
"C'mon. We can worry about it later."
Vash halted and wriggled out of the embrace. Wolfwood froze - then breathed a sigh of relief as the gunman reached for the buttons on his jacket, then his shirt, slipping them from the broad shoulders then shrugging out of his own. He stood for a moment, gazing at the priest's tanned frame, then glancing into his face. His eyes were haunted.
"I wish..."
"What?"
"...that I could be beautiful for you..."
Wolfwood grinned through sudden tears and pushed the gunman onto the bed. "Idiot. You are beautiful, to me..."
Vash's hands at his groin, trembling slightly as he unfastened the dark blue pants, pushed them down over narrow hips: his own eagerly undoing the gunman's brown jeans, unbuckling the boots and stripping the whole lot from the pale body beside him, drawing back for a moment to drink in the sight, biting his lip as he caught a close-up view of Vash's scars - so many new ones... Standing momentarily to hastily pull off the rest of his clothing and then settling back onto the bed, kneeling between the gunman's spread thighs. Vash stared up at him, quivering, his eyes frightened. Wolfwood smiled and stroked gently down his stomach.
"I won't hurt you."
"I know." It was whispered. Hesitantly, he reached up, to lay his hands on Wolfwood's chest, thumbs lightly caressing the nipples, watching as the priest caught his breath and arched into the touch.
"You have no idea," the blond whispered, "how much I have wanted to do this..."
With surprising firmness he rolled Wolfwood onto his back, silencing his startlement with a gentle kiss.
"Please..." he lowered his head to kiss, then lick, then lightly nip at each nipple in turn. "...let me..."
Wolfwood lay back, eyes closing as Vash traced intricate patterns on his skin with tongue and fingers and teeth, suckling at nipple, collarbone, throat, hip; lips and fingertips raising tiny firestorms along the sensitive skin of rib and inner thigh and groin until Wolfwood, shaking, gripped his shoulders and pulled the gunman up and gazed dazedly into his sparkling eyes.
"I can't take any more..." he gasped. And Vash smiled his beautiful smile and slid back down to take Wolfwood into his mouth, deep into his throat, tongue undulating and rippling against his length and his arms wrapped tightly around the priest's hips as Wolfwood thrust and thrust and bucked upwards, every muscle rigid, his hands tangled in soft blond hair, crying Vash's name hoarsely as he came.
"...ohhhh..... god......"
Slowly, he blinked open his eyes. Vash was beside him, propped on one elbow, hand stroking his hair back from his forehead, smiling gently - almost proudly? - down into the thundercloud eyes. Wolfwood gazed up at him, limp with contentment.
"Vash... how...? I mean..."
The gunman grinned and pressed a fingertip lightly to his forehead, between his eyes. "Whatever made you think I was a virgin?"
Wolfwood stared at him for a moment, then coloured slightly. He had thought that: that was why Vash's skill had come as a surprise. Though in fact, now he had enough functioning brain cells to think about it, he realised not only had the gunman known exactly what to do to please him, but had even been careful not to let any of the various random pieces of metal that held him together come into contact with the priest's body, so as not to distract him from the sheer, mind-numbing pleasure he'd just experienced...
He pulled Vash into his arms, one hand cradling the back of his head, the other firmly against the small of his back, nipping very gently at his lower lip before capturing his mouth again, sliding his tongue between smiling lips and stroking gently against the gunman's, tasting himself, tasting heat, tasting something sweet and almost fragrant. Vash shivered, pressing himself closer, erection quivering against the priest's hip, eyes closing as he twined his tongue around Wolfwood's.
The priest rolled him onto his back and pulled away slightly.
"I don't know 'bout you, but I think partners should share things equally."
Vash smiled up at him, eyes shimmering, and lay back with his arms above his head as Wolfwood began to explore his body...
Kissing between the scars, lingeringly regretting Vash's loss of his nipples but journeying on down the pale body, he found and memorised small areas that had the gunman whimpering with pleasure. His unscarred left hip was particularly sensitive: the priest lavished attention on it, stroking and kissing and biting gently until the blond squirmed and moaned beneath him, hands gripping the metal bedhead. He stroked the thick, soft blond curls at Vash's groin - then paused for a moment, considering. A long, jagged scar - probably a knife wound by the look of it - ran across Vash's lower body from below his left hip, sliced deeply down his shaft, slashed lightly across his balls and ended up at the outside edge of his right thigh. The repair job looked even more crudely done than on the rest of the gunman's body, and Wolfwood had the sudden, uneasy feeling that Vash may have had to do it himself... He wrapped his fingers around the erection and gently kissed the head. Vash gasped.
Still plenty of feeling left, then. Good...
Wolfwood licked firmly from base to tip, earning himself a high-pitched whine as Vash tried not to scream. He raised his head to stare at the priest, eyes huge, and Wolfwood smiled and began to nip his way, very lightly, up and down the pale shaft, his tongue circling the head under the foreskin as his fingers pulled it taut ...
Vash's orgasm took him by surprise, the tight throbbing only just giving him time to take the gunman into his mouth, swallowing as he hugged the abused body close, gently licking and kissing as Vash softened and slid from between his lips. Then frowning as the blond rolled to his side and curled up tightly, sobbing brokenly.
"Vash..?"
The gunman only wept harder. Alarmed, Wolfwood curled around him from behind, wrapping strong arms around him protectively.
"C'mon Vash, you're frightening me. What's wrong?"
He could only just make out the "sorry" in between the sobs. Then Vash flipped over to face him, snuggling against his chest, somehow very small and lost and childlike. Wolfwood cradled him close.
"Gonna tell me what's wrong?"
"...I'm sorry..."
"You don't need to be sorry. You just need to tell me what's wrong!"
"...nothing..."
"Then why are you crying?"
"Can't help it."
"D'you think you could try and make sense for a minute?"
The gunman swallowed and pulled a little away, gazing into Wolfwood's face, turquoise eyes drowning in tears. The priest kissed his eyelids.
"OK - let me guess. Been a long time, huh?"
The blond head nodded.
"And even longer since anyone's bothered to give you any pleasure?"
Another nod.
"How long?"
Vash stiffened in his arms, then buried his head against Wolfwood's neck. The priest tugged on his hair.
"Vash, how long?"
The gunman sighed and gazed into Wolfwood's face, his own bleak.
"Forty years."
Wolfwood stared. Then blinked. Then stared some more. Then sighed and hugged the gunman close.
"We need to talk. But it can wait."
Disbelievingly, Vash pulled back and stared at him.
"You don't mind?"
Wolfwood shrugged. "You think I should?"
Stunned, Vash regarded him for a moment or two longer, then kissed him gently.
"Thank you."
Wolfwood kissed his nose, then grinned.
"You tired?"
"No. Why?"
"Well, since we've waited so long, and we're neither of us tired, and just lying here with you has got me all excited again," he twitched his hips against Vash's, letting the gunman feel his erection, "I was wondering..."
Vash's hand slid deliciously down a narrow hip to tweak at the hardness between them, and Wolfwood gasped.
"Sounds good to me."
"But if you want to be inside, I don't mind..." the priest added hurriedly. Vash beamed.
"Oh, that's OK. Why don't we take it in turns?"
And minutes later, buried deeply in the tight heat of Vash's body as the gunman writhed and moaned under him, long legs wrapped around his waist and strong hands gripping his shoulders, Wolfwood couldn't help but smile in anticipation...
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