Trigun Fan Fiction ❯ What the Hell ❯ One-Shot

Thanks to Kitt Mouri's adorable fanart archived at Project TRIGUN for the inspiration. ^_^. and a little tribute to my favorite Trigun one-shot out there, "Scars, Cigarettes, and Scripture" by Elspeth1. Go check it out. Chaiu. *** Reviews welcomed! ***

[Influenced by - My Bloody Valentine - "Cigarette in Your Bed"]



"What the Hell"
by Kaitsurinu






Nothing bad had happened that morning... until this.


This... thing! That thing that wasn't supposed to be! His enemy! This treacherous little adversary!


Vash lazily poked at the pale-looking pastry with more than a little disdain, smoldering sleepily in the depths of his drowsy viridian green eyes. He furrowed one eyebrow, and only one, seeing as the left section of his face had yet to stop tingling from where he'd struck the gritty floorboards after rolling out of bed rather... maladroitly, we'll just say. Around him, the murmur of people had drifted away into the stinging hot sunshine of the late morning sunshine and left the shop quiet and calm and dusty, like an old, content rocking chair on a warm, familiar porch. Beside him, poised on a ratty red leather stool, nicotine burning, Wolfwood silently mulled over vague, irreligious thoughts with corybantic, anxious lips pursed around his cigarette.


Vash glowered at the crumbly outrage that sat on his small, circular porcelain plate, grinning at him with so many so-called 'blueberries.' Manufactured sweet blue blobs of sugar, more like it. They couldn't even hold a candle to the faint, faded memory of the blueberries Rem had stashed away just for the twins, so long ago.


***


"My, my, Knives, your brother does have quite the sweet tooth," Rem giggled. Her black silk hair was flowing angelically around her shoulders as she licked her thumb and index finger and proceeded to rub the smeared blueberry off the little blonde's face.


Chibi Knives stared at his fingers, where his muffin had been, milliseconds before it had been inhaled, and suffered this grievous loss the only way a child of his unfathomable intelligence could. He bawled.


***


And now, there sat the muffin. Grinning at him in victory. He bristled under his thin white dress shirt.


No! Damn that muffin if it thought it could ever win against him, Vash the Stampede, the Humanoid Typhoon! -- and a very hungry one at that!


He glared needles and daggers at the thing that was not his donut. It was not glazed; it had no visible sprinkles to speak of... it was not filled with heavenly raspberry jam! Worse of all, he could simply spin his head and there was a practical nursery, a haven of donuts sizzling only across the street, boiling in deep fry batter and giggling delightfully.


Second worse of all, was the dark-haired priest smoking beside him, who had dragged a haggard Vash from his bed, awakened him with a puckish slap of cold water, and proceeded to walk past the donut vendor with a malicious sort of hazy flippancy, an cigarette-punctured apathy. Wolfwood. How dare he claim that he ate food! He knew nothing of the tiny chunk of heaven fallen on the earth that were those sugary things, nothing of what potential the word "food" could have when dashed with rainbow sprinkles. Waywardly, Vash's green eyes fumed up at the static Wolfwood, while his lips puckered in dissatisfaction. The priest instantly sensed the burning gaze on his face and lazily turned his head, ever so slightly as not to knock the sizzling cigarette ash onto his lap. His stormy blue eyes were half-lidded and still haunted by sleep and memories of alcohol.


Wolfwood glanced from the muffin to Vash's brooding face. He pinched the cigarette between his fingers and lifted it away, tapping it jauntily on the side of the red leather stool.


"You gonna eat that?"


Vash blinked, considering the fate of his enemy. He never was one for unnecessary death, and still loved his adversaries like any other despite the fact of their blood-driven ill-will toward him, but...


** What the hell. **


Vash sighed tiredly and pushed the little plate towards him. "Go right on ahead, preacher man."


"Don't mind if I do," Nicholas said.


The blonde slumped forward onto the counter, oblivious to the slinky blue eyes that trailed down his spine, traitorous muffin waiting for its swift, merciful capital punishment utterly forgotten. The priest blinked, regarding the blonde's regally handsome profile for a moment, and his eyes glazed over hungrily.


** What the hell. ** He thought. ** I can always confess. **


Vash was just on the hazy subject of frolicking Legato puppies and Knives kittens with floppy pink bows when...


*SMACK*


...Wolfwood's hand had a fender bender with his ass.


"Thanks, Tongari."


The blonde man, shocked, only blinked dumbly over to the dark-haired priest, who was divinely content to just chew on his blueberry muffin quietly and feign innocence.


** Ah, what the hell. **


*SMACK*


"You're welcome, Wolfwood."