Trigun Fan Fiction ❯ Interlude ❯ Interlude ( Chapter 1 )

A few notes on the manga:

The last thing that the manga and the anime have in common is the battle for the Seeds ship. Everything after that in the anime didn't happen in this universe. I've put enough of what's important for the purposes of this fic in there, so it should become clear what's been happening even if you don't know the manga.

Author's grovel: Thanks to Tritorella for betaing, and especially to Sumire and Shadowslash for translating the manga, because I couldn't have done it!

Interlude

They headed into the open desert after they fled Colnago, keeping clear of the roads. It made for hard travel, and they weren't really sure how far the bedrock extended off the beaten track, but then the mob of would-be killers they'd left behind were more dangerous than any sandworm.

Wolfwood trudged along, muttering as the sand shifted under him. Every step he took, his shoes sank into the miserable stuff and he could feel the grittiness creeping inside his socks already. No point in stopping to empty it out when it would be back inside another few hundred yarz. His feet were going to be giving him hell by the end of the day.

Vash walked a little ahead, his face fixed towards the horizon, so that all Wolfwood saw was a red coat and a few wind-defying blond spikes above the brown bag slung over his shoulder. His coat tails snapped and fluttered out to his left, the ends disappearing into flurries of driven sand. Even peering through his lashes to keep the grit out of his eyes, Wolfwood was almost glad of the gusting wind. Without it, the silence would have driven him crazy.

After the first tense couple of iles, constantly scanning the desert behind and around for a pursuit that didn't come, Wolfwood had relaxed enough to try and talk Vash out of his funk. But the man had refused to be drawn into their usual bickering; all Wolfwood's deliberate bitching and whining got was a quick turn of Vash's head and a couple of empty words, expression hidden behind a flash of sun-scattered lenses and reflected sand. Just once, he got a half-smile that sent cracks running through the dried blood smeared down the left side of Vash's face.

After a couple more iles of that, Wolfwood gave up, and he, too, lapsed into silence, concentrating on where he was putting his feet and on keeping the wind-blasted sand out of his shirt. If Vash was determined to brood, he'd leave him to it.

But then being stoned out of town for being an inhuman freak would likely do that to anyone.

He fixed his gaze once more on Vash's back, and just kept following as his shadows gradually shortened in front of him.

The desert changed as they walked, dunes gradually shifting into harder packed, stonier ground that didn't drift so much. At least one thing was going his way today. He could let go of his collar now without getting his throat scoured.

Ten iles out of town, Wolfwood felt secure enough to call a brief halt. If anyone had tried tracking them by sand skipper, they'd have been here by now. He got the feeling Vash would have just kept walking, the guy's brain obviously occupied with something other than where the hell they were actually going.

He sat in the thin shade of a small, rocky outcrop, took off his shoes and socks, and shook and brushed all the sand out of them. It took a while till he was satisfied, and then he started on the grains clinging to his toes. The damn stuff hung on like those not-quite-feral cats with all their claws hooked in. He picked off the last few specks one at a time.

Vash sat a few feet away, wiping at the blood on his face with a cloth. He'd used the smallest amount of precious water to damp it with, and he was making a lousy job of it, smearing it further across his cheek as he rubbed. Wolfwood watched with increasing impatience as Vash dabbed at his face, missing the same brownish streak over and over. Officially sand-free shoes back in place, he finally jumped up and snatched the cloth from Vash. "Give it here, damn it."

He frowned at the barely damp material, grabbed his canteen and poured out a bit more. It wasn't like he was going to die because of one mouthful. He scrubbed hard at Vash's cheek, not bothering to be gentle until he reached the edges of the livid purple bruise at his temple. He gradually uncovered a single raw line of fresh wound, luckily not too deep. "It'll heal," he said, handing the cloth back.

Vash looked up at him with a weird expression, eyes tinted golden by his lenses. "Thanks," he said simply, then scrambled back to his feet and headed off into the burning desert again.

Wolfwood watched him go, still feeling vaguely irritated and not really sure who with. A couple of minutes, and it was clear Vash wasn't stopping, or even looking back. He grabbed his canteen, hoisted the cross back up onto his shoulder, and set off after him.

The suns swung around to the front of him as they walked through the afternoon, his shadows moving with them. He had nothing at all to look at except Vash and the stones under his feet, Vash and the sand, Vash and the few wisps of high, white cloud that managed to survive the blast furnace of the suns' rays. And the stones and the clouds were better company.

He caught up with Vash a little over an hour before first sun-down. The man had stopped in the lee of a low cliff and was busy setting up the stove. Wolfwood watched in silence for a few minutes, until Vash pulled his bedroll out of his bag and threw it down. "It's less than two hours to Montegra. We'll be there before dark."

Vash didn't even look up. "I'd prefer to stay here."

"What? You'd rather sleep out here with the bugs and the goddamn sandworms than in a half-decent bed?"

Vash turned his head to peer apologetically at him over the top of his glasses. "I just thought… They could have driven to the next towns over. Put the word out."

It was impossible to stay mad at someone who looked so damn miserable. And the guy also had a point. His eyes slid away from Vash's as he dropped to the ground beside him, slouching back against the cross. "Yeah." The stove flickered into life in the edge of his vision as Vash fiddled with it. "So, where are we headed?"

"I don't know."

"How about Dennington? It's another sixty or seventy iles if we skirt around New Edmonton."

"Do we have enough water?"

"I've got enough for me. You?"

"Yeah, but no spare." Vash was dragging stuff from his bag, finally laying his hands on a pan and a couple of tins. "We'll have to hope that's far enough."

"Okay then." Wolfwood fished through his pockets for his cigarettes. Damn. He had less than two packs, and another three or four days before they went near a town. And he'd been thinking this situation was fucked up before.

Vash had the tins open and poured soup into the pan, setting it on the stove to heat. They watched in silence as it slowly began to steam, Vash occasionally reaching out to stir it. Sheltered from the wind where they were, the noise of spoon against metal was loud and sharp.

He tossed the last of his cigarette away into the desert when Vash took the pan from the stove. Vash had only the one bowl, and Wolfwood had nothing but what he happened to have on him when all hell broke loose, so he ate his share straight from the pan.

When he was done, Vash handed him a cloth to wipe the pan and his spoon. Once they were clean, he packed them back into the bag away from the sand ants.

They switched off the stove to save on fuel, though it would be dark before long, and the desert heat would vanish like spilled water. The night insects were already starting to buzz. Another hour and it would be a near-constant whine. Silent during the day, noisy and irritating as a bus ride the second the suns set - this planet could have been designed by Legato.

"Wolfwood?"

Wolfwood sighed. "Yeah?" If Vash was going to be like this, Wolfwood would almost prefer he stayed quiet.

"I just wanted to say thanks. For today. For saying that."

"It didn't do any good." Reasoning with a scared, angry mob was never going to work. He didn't even know why he'd bothered; that sort of idiocy was Vash's trademark, not his.

"No, but… I'm glad you tried," Vash said quietly.

Wolfwood shrugged. "It's what we do, Tongari." But he remembered how Meryl had recoiled when Vash reached out to help her. He hadn't been able to see her face, how she'd looked at him, but Vash's eyes told him. And the girls hadn't even tried to follow them.

Not that he could blame her for being scared.

One curving flash of white, that's all it had taken. One quick hint of that something else inside Vash, and a minor problem with a few bounty hunters and a crowd of gawkers had turned into a big problem with a vicious mob in under a minute. And those people had barely seen anything; they were just scared of what they didn't know.

If they'd really known what Vash could be, they'd have been terrified.

Damn, now Vash's mood was getting to him. He hated when Vash got like this. It didn't do any good to sit and brood over things that couldn't be changed, but he never could convince Vash to just let things go.

He turned towards Vash and found the man watching him. And from the look on Vash's face, he had a good idea what he'd been thinking about. He felt that flash of guilt again, the one he got whenever he thought of how he'd nearly….

He was damned grateful that most of the townspeople in Colnago didn't carry weapons. He would have shot them if he'd had to, but it would have been too much like condemning himself.

Vash was still staring steadily at him.

"What?" Wolfwood demanded, turning his irritation swiftly onto the obvious target.

Vash looked away, into the flickering stove again. "I'm sorry, Wolfwood."

Wolfwood blinked in surprise. "For what?" Yeah, this was definitely going to be one of *those* Vash conversations.

"For… all of it, really. It would have been easier on you and Meryl if you'd had some warning."

"Don't kid yourself, Tongari. I'm not a fool. I knew a lot of it already."

Vash met his eyes again, tight lines visible round his mouth before he spoke. "But not enough. And Meryl…."

Yeah, Meryl. Wolfwood wasn't convinced she'd ever really *believed* that the hole in the moon was all Vash. Not until she got the up close and personal experience.

He struck a match on the straps of his cross, raised it to the cigarette already hanging from his lips.

"It's not a mistake I'll make again," Vash said softly.

Wolfwood stuck the match head into the sand, dousing it. "Letting people see too much?"

"I don't know if I can stop that." Vash looked directly at him as he said it, no hesitation as he confirmed the worst of Wolfwood's doubts. "I'm saying no more lies."

Wolfwood stared at Vash in sharp suspicion.

It was one thing to look at the scatter-brained, babbling idiot he often was, and know that he was really over a century old, some kind of super-powered being who occasionally destroyed cities. It was something entirely else to see it from five yarz away. To see a Vash he could barely recognise, with eyes empty as this damn desert and a form that morphed and expanded, literally crackling with built-up energy. To see it and to know that Vash was so far out of control he was on the edge of taking out Wolfwood, the insurance girls and half the city, just to get at Legato.

"Are you going to say there's more? Because if you are, I don't think I want to know."

Vash shook his head rapidly. "No. Not like that, anyway. What you saw was pretty much all of it."

"Good." Wolfwood didn't bother to keep the relief from his voice.

"I mean, there's other stuff you don't know; but then I guess nothing you find out could shake you after that."

Wolfwood sighed, knowing Vash could carry on like this all night if he didn't ask him direct. "Just spit it out, Tongari."

Vash stared out across the endless sand, expression inscrutable behind reflective yellow lenses. "I don't just chase women, you know. Sometimes I chase men, too." He tipped his head, eyes slanted towards Wolfwood past the spiky frame of his glasses. "Usually tall, good-looking ones who know how to take care of themselves. I thought I'd mention it, just in case you happened to be interested."

Wolfwood blinked slowly, dragged deep on his cigarette, and didn't reply.

Vash rose smoothly to his feet, and Wolfwood watched as he wandered off a little way from their camp. He wasn't moving fast, not even close by Vash standards. Not running away, just giving him some space to think. The coat flapping around his legs did nothing to hide the grace and casual strength in his movements. He leaped easily up onto a boulder less than a hundred yarz away, and sat there, staring up into the cloudless night.

Wolfwood exhaled long plumes of smoke into the moonlight.

He'd thought about it. He'd thought about it most when he'd first met Vash. Good cheekbones, striking eyes, perfect teeth - nobody inclined at all towards guys could fail to notice, whatever the weird reactions of some of the women Vash threw himself at. He'd thought about that mouth as he stroked himself in the darkness, imagined the wet heat of that tongue on his cock.

But he'd noticed other things about Vash too. Wolfwood knew what a human could do with skill, training and long practice. And so many things that Vash did went way beyond that.

It hadn't bothered him, just intrigued him. Wolfwood wasn't in a position to comment, since he wasn't exactly human normal himself, not any more. Nothing too obvious, nothing that would get him lynched in the street. Another pro would realise, how he was just a bit too fast, a bit too strong, a bit too quick to notice things, but the ordinary joes in a dead-end town would never see it.

He wondered sometimes just how much Vash knew. Was Vash so much faster that everyone else just looked ridiculously slow to him? Or was he sharp enough to judge the differences and file them away, the same way he'd efficiently fished out most of Wolfwood's other secrets?

He'd watched Vash all that time with both a professional and a personal level of interest. He'd pieced most of it together during their travels, learned just how old Vash really was on the Seeds ship, and he'd gradually stopped thinking of Vash as a sexual creature. Because for all his talk, he'd never actually known the guy lay anybody. Because Vash wasn't *human*.

And all that was before what he'd seen last week.

So it was one hell of a surprise now to get a come-on from Vash. Couldn't fault the guy's logic, though. He was hardly likely to run screaming across the desert because Vash turned out to be flexible, as well as being a weird alien.

Wolfwood dragged harder on his cigarette, trying to drown the creeping guilt in burning smoke. He doubted that Vash would have made the offer if he'd known how close Wolfwood came to shooting him after the big revelation.

But thinking about it now, he suddenly wondered if Vash did know something. Not the details - he wouldn't know how Wolfwood had stood behind him in the half-light, gun aimed directly at the line where moon-silvered hair met black. But it had been obvious that they were different around Vash, him and Meryl, avoiding him so far as they could. The guy had to know that he'd scared the shit out of them. And he had to have wondered what they'd been thinking.

So, yeah, Vash knew that it had crossed his mind. Vash would have sat around analysing Wolfwood's thought processes, just as he now sat around chewing over Vash's. Hell, maybe he did know all of it. He'd seen Vash shoot directly behind him with deadly accuracy and without looking, more than once. Maybe Vash had known he was there all along and just waited for him to make his choice.

Wolfwood crushed his cigarette into the dirt and figured it was about time he stopped underestimating Vash the Stampede.

He sighed as he got to his feet, and fished through his pockets for more matches. At least Vash's logic went both ways. Vash would accept a polite rejection, understand his reasons, and there'd be no hangover effects on their friendship. With all the shit they had going on, it really wasn't a big deal.

Yeah, he was going to turn him down. Vash had sprouted something that looked way too much like a goddamn giant *wing*.

He snagged a cigarette from the pack in his pocket and looked at the slightly crumpled thing for a moment, before carefully putting it back. He had to deal with another three or four days out here, he needed to string out his supply.

But then the guy sitting on the boulder over there wasn't the freaky one with the wings and the eyes that saw nothing but a target - he was the same Vash he'd known on and off for three years now. Wolfwood didn't need to look to know that he was staring up at the fifth moon, shoulders hunched slightly in a way that screamed of guilt to anyone who knew him.

He looked across anyway, just to check. Not a bad guess. He'd pictured Vash surrounded by flapping coat-tails, but he'd hooked them underneath him. Everything else was the same. It was ridiculous how he could sit sprawled with his head tilted back, gazing up into the sky, and still look as miserable as if he was face down in a thomas pen.

Screw it. He retrieved the cigarette and took a lot of pleasure in the hiss of the match and the first rush of smoke in his throat.

Thinking hadn't done him much good when it came to Vash, not lately; not for a long time. When he'd pointed the gun at the man with so much power that he could barely control, he hadn't thought about Knives, or the retaliation that would fall on his kids, or anything except Vash. And he couldn't do it. Vash could be a threat to the whole goddamn planet, and he still wouldn't be able to do it.

Just minutes after he'd lowered that gun, Vash had deliberately leaped into the middle of trouble again. And Wolfwood had jumped right in after him, covering and protecting. One glance and they'd both known the plan, moving together and taking the bastards down without ever dropping the guard on the other's back. Fighting with and for Vash had become an instinctive response that never gave him the chance to ask *why*.

For a whole tangled mess of reasons, he was stuck with Vash the Stampede, and Vash was stuck with him. If he was worried about getting too close to his weird, not-human charge, he'd left it a bit too fucking late. Whatever they did or didn't do physically wouldn't make a grain of difference to what was coming.

Given that, there wouldn't be a whole lot of point in denying what he wanted.

He looked down at the dull glow of the cigarette in his fingers, raised it to his lips and took a pull, holding the smoke long and deep before letting it flow in a rush down his nose. He was determined to appreciate every second of this, knowing that he was likely to finish them off tomorrow and get damn cranky. Oh, Vash was gonna love him then for sure.

The oppressive heat had faded now, their rocky shelter leaving only a light breeze to ruffle the hair over his eyes. It was good just to stand, not thinking, working his way slowly through the cigarette, watching the silvery smoke curl and twist through the moonlight. It was almost peaceful. Even though the goddamn insects were in full chorus.

Vash had disappeared from the rock by the time he squashed the butt into the dirt, but he wouldn't have gone far. Wolfwood found him lying just beyond it out of the wind, flat on his back in the sand and watching the sky past half-closed lids. At least he'd taken the damn glasses off.

Vash didn't react as he approached, though Wolfwood knew he'd heard him. He placed a hand against the rock, still warm from the vanished suns. "I'm interested."

Vash opened his eyes fully and sat up with a sly smile. "Oh, yeah? How interested?"

Wolfwood leaned down and reached for the collar of that ridiculous coat, hauling Vash to his feet. He gave him a gentle shove backwards until he came to a halt against the boulder, Wolfwood's forearm resting against the surface beside him, their faces inches apart and one hip in firm contact with Vash. "You getting the idea?"

"Oh, I think so." Wolfwood found himself grabbed now, Vash pulling him in and latching onto his lips. There was nothing gentle in the kiss, just raw desire and aggression, heated open mouth and the insistent push of Vash's tongue, determined to take charge from the start. Yeah, well, he could play that game too. Wolfwood angled his head a little more, but Vash suddenly drew back and scrunched up his face.

"Damn, Wolfwood, when did you last shave?"

Wolfwood gave Vash a very deliberate glare. "I might get to shave more often if you weren't such a trouble magnet."

"Don't go blaming your sloppy habits on me! It was quiet the last few days!"

"Huh! I had to run out on breakfast this morning because *you* were being marched through the town by bounty hunters!"

He regretted the words instantly as Vash's eyes darkened. He was hitting a little too close, a little too soon. "Sorry," Vash said simply, trailing a hand down Wolfwood's jacket, and then he drew him in again.

The kiss was slower this time, softer, and Wolfwood accepted the change of pace easily, rubbing his hands along Vash's back through the coat by way of apology. It was still far from chaste, the way their tongues slid and explored, no less intense, just less… pushy. It felt good, actually - not just the contact, the heated glide of lips and close bodies, but the chance to distract Vash a little from his undeserved misery.

Vash was different - instantly, obviously different, in this as much as everything else. Anyone else who spent time out in the full glare of the suns, everyone else that Wolfwood had known, it showed. But Vash's skin stayed pale, his lips soft instead of dried and sun-cracked, the skin around them unlined and pliant beneath Wolfwood's inquiring mouth. It wasn't that it mattered either way - the rest of Vash's skin carried more than enough marks of his life - but it was something else uniquely Vash, and Wolfwood had been cataloguing those for three years. He let his lips travel Vash's jaw, tasting salt, sand and, even here, a hint of gunpowder. And, yeah, there was a whiskery roughness after a day of travel, not that *he* was going to cause a scene by pointing it out. Not now anyway, not when he had better things to be doing.

He returned his attention to Vash's invitingly parted lips, light, brushing contact designed to tease and entice. Vash's tongue came out instantly to meet him, soft touch of a gloved hand on his neck tugging him deeper. Wolfwood started on the buttons to that crazy coat, his fingers working steadily upwards from hip level towards the five big clasps at the top. Vash squirmed against him as he unbuttoned, which was no bad thing until he wriggled hard enough to get away from Wolfwood's mouth and spoke against his cheek.

"You know the sand will get everywhere, don't you?"

Wolfwood threw his hands up in the air and backed off. "Fine. Let's pick this up again in a hotel in Dennington."

"That's three days' walk from here!"

"So stop whining and choose! You're the one who hit on me, remember?"

"I didn't expect you to say yes right away!" Vash protested. "I thought I'd have to spend a few days working on you!"

Wolfwood's eyes narrowed. "So you were thinking of me as some virginal prude who'd have to be talked into bed?"

"No!" Vash paused, looking comically thoughtful. "Well, not really, but you've got to admit the circumstances are a bit odd."

"We had this conversation once." He really didn't need mental images of that other Vash interfering with his appreciation of the man in front of him, not if this was going any further tonight. "Let me know when you've decided what you want."

"No decision to make," Vash said, fully serious this time, placing a hand directly on Wolfwood's groin. "I know what I want."

Wolfwood's cock jumped at the sudden, needed contact, Vash's words and touch smoothing the edges from his annoyance. Not that he was willing to let it drop straight away. "So are you gonna stop complaining?"

And Vash switched mood again, suddenly all grinning teeth and wickedly slanted eyes. "Unlikely," he said flippantly, his hand still in place, a vaguely frustrating, unmoving pressure.

"Fine. I'm not all that interested in what you *say*." Wolfwood pushed against the teasing hand as he returned to his previous task, releasing the last few clasps at Vash's throat. Vash reacted to his pointed hint, the hand at his groin taking up a perfect, even rhythm of squeeze and stroke that threatened to distract him again, but in a distinctly better way. He slid the coat from Vash's shoulders revealing scarred flesh to the moonlight, eased it past the slight ridge where skin met metal, almost trembling at the way nearly-too-firm pressure alternated with not-quite-enough slide of cloth over his erection.

And then the hand was gone, which he really didn't appreciate, but Vash was already whispering at his ear, hot breath raising the hairs on his neck just behind the lobe. "Just letting you finish what you're doing." Wolfwood tugged at the sleeves, finally pulling the coat away from Vash, the man's tongue flicking methodically over his ear and neck the whole time. It was too light a touch, almost ticklish, and he moved away as soon as the coat was free, letting his eyes flow down the full length of Vash.

Tight, thickly ribbed leather clung to every inch of the man's body like flexible black armour, protective plates shining over knees and thighs, held in place by inset metal rings. It let nothing of Vash's skin show except his one real arm, though it followed the outline of just about every muscle he had in a way that was almost as revealing. Wolfwood had seen it all so many times before, but he'd never had the chance to really *look*. He ran exploring fingers along its surface, feeling the softer inserts between the ridges and around the joints that allowed easy movement, stroking over the tight muscles beneath with deliberate intent. The whole outfit was clearly designed for practicality, yet the look and the feel still gave the impression of someone's weird bondage fantasy.

His raised his eyes from Vash's body to meet his intense, provocative gaze. "So what *do* the hotel laundry say when you hand this lot over?"

Vash's eyes startled wide open a moment before he laughed, clear and genuine, a sound Wolfwood hadn't heard in over a week. "You've been dying to say something, haven't you?"

Wolfwood felt slightly silly, but it was overridden by the pleasure of seeing Vash escape briefly from his troubles. "I didn't want you to know I'd been looking."

"Then you shouldn't have been so obvious," Vash said, irritatingly smug.

Wolfwood blinked. "You knew?"

"Of course I knew!"

"You never did anything about it."

Vash looked away for a moment, guilt flickering across his face again. "I don't like lying to my lovers."

Too many secrets. Yeah, Wolfwood could get that. It wasn't stopping *him*, though, and he was still hiding the dirtiest secret of them all.

But it was a secret that didn't feel like one, not any more. The lie had shifted and faded until it became the truth, and while it still mattered on one level, it didn't change the present. Didn't change that Vash had his loyalty, had his soul, in a way that Knives never had.

He could give no answer to Vash's comment, though. Could do nothing except pull him closer and show his understanding with the use of his mouth on Vash's lips and skin.

Vash was instantly right on board with that, deeply enthusiastic tongue exploring his mouth and fingers working at opening his shirt. The fast-chilling desert air made him shiver as it found his chest; seconds later it was the stroke of supple leather along his ribs, and then the exquisite heat of breath and lips as Vash's mouth followed the path his hands had taken.

He tugged at the gloved fingers of Vash's right hand, sliding the surprisingly soft thomas hide away from his skin and dropping it to the ground. The fingers returned instantly to his body, hot skin trailing directly across skin in delightful, untarnished contact. He reached for the other hand, but Vash held it away, lifting his head from Wolfwood's collarbone. "I've been told that one feels better with the glove left on," he said, sounding faintly embarrassed.

Wolfwood let it go at that. It was all the same to him, he knew the feel of Vash's synthetic well enough after their various hospital stays, but he wasn't going to press if it made Vash uncomfortable. He shifted his hands to Vash's hips and felt along the holster straps to the buckle, figuring he had a much better chance of finding his way into all Vash's leather without the damn gun belt in the way. He unhooked it eventually, lowering it onto the red bundle in the corner of his vision, taking a lot more care with the weaponry than he had with the clothes.

Vash's fingers were already wriggling down below his waistband, his cock desperately keen to meet them, and that incredibly quick tongue was lapping eagerly around the edges of his nipple. The combination fired jolts of lust straight down his spine, scattering his concentration and making his fingers shake. He wasn't having much luck with the fastenings to Vash's suit.

And then everything Vash was doing stopped simultaneously; there was a brief, odd pause before the man pulled away from his body, only half meeting Wolfwood's eyes as he straightened up.

"Uh, Wolfwood, have you got anything with you? You know, lube?"

Wolfwood stared back at Vash. "You mean you don't?" Vash shook his head. "What the hell are you doing coming on to a guy when you've got no lube?"

Vash looked vaguely sheepish. "I thought you'd turn me down. And besides, I'd kind of assumed you had better luck than I've had lately."

"I didn't exactly get time to pack this morning," Wolfwood pointed out dryly. "Most of my stuff's still at the hotel." Not that it would have made any difference, but he wasn't going to tell Vash that.

Vash's lips curved into a smirk anyway. "You're not bragging, so I take it I guessed wrong." His eyebrows twitched briefly. "So when exactly was the last time either of us got laid?"

"Too damn long ago!" he growled back. "And I'm blaming that on you. You'd be surprised how many people don't want to screw a guy who hangs around Vash the Stampede."

"It's not because you don't bother to shave?"

"Will you shut up about that?"

Vash sniffed. "I've learned to live with you smoking non-stop, I suppose I can live with your stubble too."

Wolfwood felt his sense of humour heading for the horizon. Fast. "Anything else you'd like to add while we're having this little honesty session?"

Vash wrinkled his nose and grinned at him, all moonlit teeth and wide, fake-innocent eyes. "Well, you snore sometimes. And you could use a bath right now, but, okay, that last one's probably not your fault." He lifted Wolfwood's chin with his gloved hand and leaned in to lap at his exposed throat, as if to prove that a little sweat wouldn't come between friends… or lovers, or whatever the hell they were now.

Wolfwood was suddenly very aware that Vash's invitation hadn't made anything clear beyond sex. Was this a convenient fuck-buddy thing or something else he was getting into? Knives had stepped up the pace, and Vash was running out of time - he would have to face him sooner rather than later. Vash was probably just taking what he could while he could still get it.

Damn, it was getting real hard to think with Vash sucking along his neck with warm lips and dancing tongue, even more so when he felt the hands tugging at his belt. But then he wasn't all that clear on his own plans for this, beyond the obvious lust - as usual when it came to Vash, rational thought had taken the other bus. He was just running with his instincts and, for now, being with Vash felt right. None of the reasons behind it, his or Vash's, really mattered a damn.

And it sure as hell didn't matter once Vash had his trousers open and his hand inside. Wolfwood breathed out air in a soft hiss as warm fingers slid along his erection from base to tip and back, light and playful in a way he really didn't want right now. Later, yeah, but not now. He slung a hand behind Vash's head and hauled him closer, leaning in to nip at his neck.

"Hey, stop it!" Vash yelped. "I'm not into that!"

"Then don't tease," Wolfwood said bluntly, returning to Vash's throat but minus the teeth.

"And you, don't be so pushy," Vash muttered, but tightened his grip obligingly, while his other hand slid the clothing from his hips in a single slow downward glide. Wolfwood leaned more heavily into Vash, the heat and pressure on his cock driving all thought from his head but the man in front of him and the hands that were slowly tugging his body towards much-needed release.

Vash tipped his head, lifting his neck away from Wolfwood's mouth and looking down at him almost cross-eyed with the proximity. "We could use the cooking oil, I guess." He sounded doubtful even as he suggested it.

"And this from the guy who was bitching about the sand." Wolfwood was fighting hard not to obviously pant in frustration as the movement at his cock halted. "That stuff's messy, and I don't see a shower anywhere around here."

"Ah, well," Vash sighed into Wolfwood's ear as he flicked his tongue across the lobe, "I guess I can wait a few more days to screw you properly."

Wolfwood had some comments to make on exactly who was going to get fucked when they got to Dennington, but his mouth was disconnected by the shock of the wet heat surrounding his cock. Vash had dropped to his knees so fast he hadn't even seen him *move*. And, oh, God, damn, this was *so* much better than the hands, a tongue sweeping along the ridge of his cock head and lips swallowing him down still further in a rhythm that kept pace with his own hitching breaths.

Everything was about the heat. The stroking hands at his hips and balls, soft thomas hide and smoother skin, and especially the mouth around his cock. Heat in contrast with the cooling desert air, warmth sparking outwards from everywhere Vash touched him, leaping straight along every nerve to the base of his spine and blasting his brain. Vash's lips and fingers seemed hotter with every passing second, conducting a fire that didn't burn… and this wasn't just a blow job, no it wasn't, no way in hell.

He should have been freaked. He should have been *terrified*. But his fingers clutched at blond hair slightly stiff with gel and gritty with sand, and Vash looked up at him with wicked eyes that grinned while his mouth was too busy. Vash, with a dark bruise at his temple in vicious contrast to moon-pale skin, and Wolfwood's mind and cock were in complete agreement that he could just keep right on doing whatever the hell it was he was doing. Because this Vash wouldn't hurt him, wouldn't *ever* hurt him, the knowledge too deep and too certain to be shaken.

Every thought that passed though his twisted remnants of a brain must have shown in his face; Vash's eyes suddenly filled with a certainty he hadn't realised was missing before, and the frictional sucking increased to an intensity he would never have believed. Until his world built into an exploding flash of white and he came hard into Vash's perfect mouth.

Wolfwood let himself sag forwards as Vash's lips and hands finally released him. His outstretched arms supported him against the boulder, Vash still kneeling in the dirt in front of him. His own body shadowed Vash's face from the moonlight, but did nothing to hide the self-satisfied grin on that wet mouth. "Shit," he said, extremely heartfelt, trying to regain some control over his panting breaths.

Vash made a disapproving face. "If that's what I get as a sign of appreciation, I won't bother."

"Oh, you bastard," Wolfwood managed with the small amount of air his lungs held. "You said no more surprises!"

Vash's expression became even more smug. "If you don't approve, I can give it a miss."

"Hell, no." Wolfwood pushed off the rock and collapsed to his knees, joining Vash in the sand. "You're not pulling that stunt without letting me know exactly what else you can do." He hooked an arm around Vash's neck and hauled him in for a kiss, deep, open-mouthed, wanting, the orgasm leaving him shaken, yet somehow not sated. He drew back long before he would have chosen to, driven by the need to suck in air, leaving his hand in place against the soft bristles of hair. Vash sat and watched him patiently, gorgeous with dark, craving eyes.

Wolfwood placed a hand on his chest and pushed him down into the sand, straddling that black-clad body. "You're not going to distract me this time," he said deliberately, his fingers moving to the fastenings of the leather jumpsuit.

"Damn right I'm not." Vash smiled in full agreement, his arms wrapping around Wolfwood's body, holding him to his implied promise.

Not that he planned on going anywhere, except down.

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