Trigun Fan Fiction ❯ Thou Shalt Not Kill ❯ One-Shot

Disclaimer: Trigun is not mine, nor are any of the characters, regardless of how much I have adopted them, lately ^^;

Pairings: WolfwoodxVash (a bit of tooth-ache inducing shounen-ai, nothing more.)

Warnings: Shounen-ai pairing, angst, possible rotting of teeth.

Thou Shalt Not Kill

Wolfwood sat at the table, digging through a black satchel. Items were already strewn across the table, but he continued to dig around in the bag. "Damnit!" he cursed. "I know there's another pack of matches in here somewhere! " From the other side of the table, a man in a long red coat watched him with a mixture of interest and amusement. Wolfwood finally grabbed the bottom of the bag and upturned it, dumping out the last of it's contents on the table. At the top of the pile, lay a small box of matches. "I knew they were here!" He grabbed them, and lit his cigarette, taking a long, satisfactory drag on it. He closed his eyes and leaned back in the chair, with a small smile on his face.

The man in red watched him a moment longer, then busied himself going through the pile of stuff on the table. He picked up items, studied them, then set them back down. After a few minutes of this, he came across a worn book with a cross insignia on the front. He grabbed it, walked over to the bed, and flopped down. Wolfwood made it through two cigarettes while his companion paged through the book.

"HA! Right there! I knew it!"

He picked up the book, and shoved it under Wolfwood's nose.

"What are you talking about, Vash?"

"Right there!" the man jumped up and down, pointing to a line of text in the book. "Thou shalt not kill! I knew it. I knew you weren't supposed to kill things! Even your book says you're not supposed to!"

Wolfwood sat up, and took the book from Vash, setting it on the table, still open to the incriminating page. "A lot of people do things they're not supposed to." he said, noncommittally.

"But you're especially not supposed to! More than other people!" Vash insisted, his eyes wide. He picked up the book again and started to walk away, having proved his point. Wolfwood reached over his shoulder and plucked the book from his hands.

"I think that's enough reading for tonight."

Vash looked at him. His eyes slitted, and he crossed his arms over his chest. He flopped down on the floor, and he pouted terribly. Wolfwood turned around. "You're pathetic when you do that, you know."

Vash looked at him indignantly from under the few strands of hair that fell in his eyes. He let out a small "hmph" noise, and turned his back to his companion. Wolfwood rolled his eyes, and lit another cigarette.

Several hours passed, and the only change was that Vash had, for reasons unbeknownst to the unconventional priest, moved to the corner, where he leaned against the wall, looking down most of the time. Occasionally, he would sneak glances up to see if the other man was paying attention to his pouting, and if he was, he would quickly cover the look with a pouty glare. After another half hour of this, Vash turned around, facing the wall. Drama queen. Wolfwood thought to himself.

"Are you going to keep this up all night, Vash?"

Vash looked over his shoulder, shooting Wolfwood a dirty look.

"Fine," Wolfwood muttered, "Guess I won't have to fight with you for who gets to sleep where, tonight." Vash didn't turn around.

The priest unbuttoned his shirt and jacket, draping them over a chair, and walked over to the bed. He pulled off his boots, and lit a last cigarette. Laying back on the bed, he closed his eyes, and listened to the silence in the room. He did this, until the cigarette was gone, then sat up, reached down to the floor next to his boots where he'd set the pack of cigarettes and lit up a second "last cigarette." When that one, too was gone, he sat up, looking at the pouting gunman in the corner. Sometimes I still can't believe that *that* is Vash the Stampede. He's pouting, for chrissakes. Sulking in a corner, because I took a book away from him. Lord, save me from what I'm about to do....

Wolfwood got to his feet. He crossed the small space between the bed and the infamous 'criminal' in the corner. Wolfwood knelt behind the other man, and put his arms around him. "Vash....are you really going to sit here and pout all night?"

"I was thinking about it." he replied sullenly.

"You're such a child sometimes."

Vash turned and looked at him with sad eyes. "No, I'm not." he said quietly. "Sometimes, I wish I were."

Wolfwood let go of him. He stood, and held out a hand to the still-seated gunman. Wordlessly, Vash took it, and let Wolfwood lead him back over to the bed. He sat down on the edge of it, and began unbuttoning the many buttons on his red coat. Wolfwood watched him, studying the way the shadows reflected off of the different surfaces as the gunman moved; a glint of candlelight on a button here, a shadow across a finger there. Wolfwood leaned back against the wall. When Vash finished unbuttoning all the buttons, he stood, and hung the coat on a hook on the wall. Re-seated on the bed, he regarded his companion carefully, words forming in his mind. When I was a child, things were different. When I was a child.....Rem... He closed his eyes.

Wolfwood watched him, through half-closed eyes, and wondered what he was thinking. He leaned forward, putting his arms around Vash again. The gunman pulled away, and looked at him.

"Why?"

Wolfwood didn't answer him, not really sure what the question meant, and not sure what he would say, even if it did cover any of the topics he thought it might.

"Why do you think I'm like a child?"

The priest looked at him. "I don't know how to answer that. You're like a child, and you're not. You're more like the children I know, than the children most people know. Like the ones at the orphanage. The ones who lost everything they knew. Trying to be happy, all the time, even if you don't feel it. Your smile doesn't reach your eyes anymore, Vash. I don't know what's happened to you, and sometimes, your eyes scare me."

Vash buried his face in the priest's shoulder. "Everything I touch dies. I try so hard...Everything I touch dies."

Wolfwood closed his eyes, choosing his words carefully. "Vash...?"

Vash looked up at him, his aqua-colored eyes full of tears.

"Everything dies. That's how it is. It's not because of you."

"I destroy everything I come into contact with."

Wolfwood pondered the words, letting them sink in a moment. He thought about what he had been sent to do, and how he knew he could not do it. He thought about how his feelings for Vash that he had fought so hard once they surfaced, had changed his ability to carry out a directive that seemed so simple to him when he had first received it. "Find Vash the Stampede. Watch him. Guide him back here. Bring him to Me." Knives message, relayed by Legato. He knew what he was supposed to do. Vash was right; he had destroyed that. And he had destroyed much of the truths and beliefs Wolfwood had held before coming into contact with the Humanoid Typhoon. So much had been changed in that time, since he left the orphanage, in search of Vash the Stampede.

Finally, he spoke. "Do I seem destroyed to you?"

Vash looked at him. "You're going to die because of me."

"No. I assure you, I will not die because of you." Wolfwood wasn't sure how much of that was true or not. He mentally recapped the commandments to make sure Vash wouldn't later find "Thou shalt not stretch the truth" in there.

"Everything I touch dies." the blonde repeated again.

"I'm not dead." Wolfwood replied, pulling Vash down on the bed next to him.

Vash curled up next to him, resting his head on Wolfwood's bare chest. He listened to the steady heartbeat, as though confirming that the priest's words were true.

Wolfwood closed his eyes. "Sleep, Vash."

Vash slept.

a/n: Comments and critiques are welcome, as always!

Ja-ne!