Archive of Our Own ^beta

There were three things that Wolfwood knew to be irrefutable; truths that he would lie, kill and die to defend. 

The first was that no one, and he meant no one was ever going to lay their hands on another child with the intent to harm them again so long as he lived. He hadn’t agreed to lead Vash to Julai, to break him and leave him shattered, for anything less than an ironclad vow from The Eye that Hopeland would be left untouched. Once he fulfilled his duties, he would be released from the hell he had been living, and be free to return to the only life he had ever known before he’d been stolen away by The Eye. 

The second was that no matter how many times he watched Vash break himself for the people of this planet, they would never, never be deserving of it. No matter how many bullets he took, no matter how many times he paid for the sins of their greed with his own flesh and blood, they would never have earned the grace that Vash gave them so selflessly. Wolfwood was forced to simply grit his teeth and bare it every time he was made to collect the pieces of Vash that were left after each gunfight. Every time he found his hands coated with Vash’s blood, he prayed fervently that he could somehow leave behind a small piece of himself to make up for the parts that the world just... kept... taking. A fool’s offering to a being far beyond his comprehension. 

And the third was that he was completely, irrevocably, and without question, in love with Vash the Stampede. The blonde had crash-landed into Wolfwood’s life and despite everything that Vash’s brother had told him concerning the gunslinger, Wolfwood had thrown himself headlong into the Typhoon that was Vash. There had been no stopping it, and no denying that Vash was going to leave him a very broken man once this mission was complete and he was delivered into his brother’s tender care. The moment he had met Vash’s ocean water blue eyes, he had condemned himself to a life of want and fruitless longing.

Because how could he ever hope to be worthy of the love of an angel when he himself had been remade in the image of the Devil? 

Wolfwood had always suspected that Vash was more than human. No matter how hard he tried to play it off for Meryl and Roberto, there was something about Vash that was oddly unsettling. Even though it wasn’t blatantly noticeable to the two reporters, Wolfwood had lived with his own inhuman existence for long enough that he was able to recognize it in another. 

Like recognizes like, his mind supplied readily; as if he needed the reminder that he was also something other than human. It was there; plain as day for anyone who took the time to actually look - and knew what to look for. Bright aquamarine eyes - a shade of blue that humans had no hope of ever recreating; a color that had never been seen on this planet. Eyes that took on an unnatural sheen if Wolfwood ever found himself lucky enough to glance over at the blonde when his eyes weren’t hidden behind those gaudy orange glasses. A rare occurrence that Wolfwood treasured whenever it happened. At just the right angle the sun would lance through his irises and they would shine as if lit from within and Wolfwood would swear that there was something else shifting within the depths of Vash’s eyes, as deep and as fathomless as the oceans of Earth that Miss Melanie had told him stories of as a kid.

It was there in his smile, bright as the sun when it was genuine - so rare that it happened; flashing pearly white canines that were just this side of too sharp; too long. The teeth of a predator. And Wolfwood would know since he had them too. As it was, he might have never even noticed anything amiss if he was just a little closer to human, a little less the monster he had been created to be.

Vash wasn’t human. Not entirely; of that he was certain. Wolfwood thought about the blonde’s ability to move at a speed that couldn’t be followed by the human eye. And if nothing else about the gunslinger screamed “other”, his ability to simply walk off any and all life-threatening injuries surely would have been impossible to ignore. Wolfwood had seen Vash eat more lead than he cared to think about and had watched the blonde bounce back from a gunshot wound to the forehead at damn near point blank range. 

It still turned his stomach to remember it. 

Needless to say, it was getting near impossible for Wolfwood to ignore the nagging sensation in the back of his mind; the one that was practically screaming warnings at him. Warnings that he wouldn’t have ignored in literally any other situation. But it was Vash. Despite all of his inhuman traits, this was the same man who would cry whenever Wolfwood bought him donuts, something in his heart always twisting at the sight of the blonde’s tears. The same man who selflessly put himself in harm’s way to save others far less deserving of his grace. He was the same idiot blonde who would stop in whatever town they happened upon simply to wile away the time playing with a group of children before they moved on. 

Was he dangerous? Most assuredly. Was it going to stop Wolfwood from trusting him with his back? Not in the slightest. It didn't matter to Wolfwood how inhuman he appeared when he was the most human of them all at heart.

Like recognizes like. Vash was nothing more than a spiky-haired idiot without a lick of self-preservation who just happened to be something slightly more than human. It wasn’t like Wolfwood was in any position to judge; and he was fairly certain that, at this point, nothing about Vash could surprise him.

**

Wolfwood had never been more wrong before in his life. 

The shoot out had started with no warning. No one had approached the two of them as they had made their way through the relatively quiet streets of the latest town they had stopped in. No one had shouted the Stampede’s name in fear, despite Vash wandering around wearing his signature red duster. Hell, Wolfwood hadn’t even spotted a single wanted poster on any of the boards they had passed on their way to find supplies.

As a result, he had let his guard down. He was ashamed to admit that he had been preoccupied with staring at Vash as he had chattered happily beside him. Wolfwood never thought it was possible for someone to shine as brightly as Vash always did, especially while doing something as mundane as rambling excitedly about every minute detail of the quaint little town as they strolled through. As though Wolfwood didn’t have eyes with which to take in the same details. Although, he had to admit, everything seemed a little more special when it was Vash pointing them out to him. And it was so rare to see the blonde relax and just be. Was it really that much of a surprise that Wolfwood had been incapable of taking his eyes off of the other man?

They had just stopped in front of a small bakery, Wolfwood already knowing he was about to happily fork over his hard earned double dollars to feed the blonde’s sugar obsession, when shots had rung out through the streets. He had felt the dull thud and searing pain of several bullets as they pierced his body in quick succession, embedding themselves in his stomach and shoulder. The feeling of lead entering his body was uncomfortably familiar; a sensation he never really got used to, no matter how many times it happened. 

Wolfwood immediately dropped to his knees in pained surprise, the Punisher hitting the ground with a resounding thud. He pressed his hands flat against the hard-packed ground as he tried to breathe around the pain radiating through his chest. His vision swam momentarily and he blinked rapidly to clear it. He heard Vash call his name, though it sounded distorted, as though he was underwater. He needed to protect Vash. 

“Wolfwood!”

He shook his head in an attempt to clear the fog of pain. Fuck, did that hurt. No matter how many times Wolfwood found himself riddled with bullets, the pain never got easier to handle. He knew that all he really needed to do was reach one of the vials stored inside his jacket and he would be good as new. 

He never made it that far before Vash threw himself over top of Wolfwood, pressing him to the ground and placing himself between the undertaker and their attackers, his palms braced on either side of the undertaker protectively. It was then that Wolfwood felt his brain go offline, one thought shooting through his head with fear close behind.

Vash wasn’t human.

Wolfwood kept having to repeat that thought to himself as his mind tried to make sense of what his eyes were currently showing him. Realistically, he had always known that Vash was more than human. He had just never stopped to entertain the thought that the blonde could ever be less than human at the same time. He tried mentally cataloged every detail of the… creature that now towered over him protectively as his mind desperately fought to remind him that he knew this person. He trusted this person. 

It was all that was keeping Wolfwood from losing his composure as he forced himself to tick off the details one by one; an attempt to remain calm in the face of such an unfathomable being.

He took in Vash’s signature red coat, riddled with more bullet holes than he cared to dwell on at the moment. The one Wolfwood always bitched about the blonde wearing because it turned Vash into a walking target, practically begging anyone around to take shots at him. Now it billowed harshly around him like a warning flag and cast a dark shadow over Wolfwood where he lay sprawled on the ground beneath the gunslinger.

His spiky blonde hair that always fell in a disheveled sweep across pale, porcelain skin and had earned him the affectionate nickname Tongari. Hair that Wolfwood knew from experience was softer than it looked. How many times had he run his fingers through Vash’s hair, soothing him after a shootout or a nightmare, giving comfort in the only way he would allow himself? It was once again smeared through with dirt and blood, though this time Wolfwood was having a hard time determining who the blood belonged to. Had Vash been hit too? Something vile churned in his stomach at the thought of Vash being hurt by his inattention.

The bottle green prosthetic that always handled Wolfwood gently whenever Vash had to tend to his injuries, the cold metal touching him with more warmth and feeling than most humans were capable of. The Lost Technology that was now carving gouges in the packed rock beneath them as Vash stood his ground between Wolfwood and the danger in front of them. 

Ocean blue eyes that looked at this cruel world with kindness and love, but grew unreasonably soft only when Vash was looking in Wolfwood’s direction. Even when he refused to name the emotion he had seen flashing in those cerulean eyes. And though Vash wasn’t looking in his direction now, Wolfwood knew they would be flashing with a possessive anger and more than a little fear. 

Fear for Wolfwood. He had watched the bounty hunters empty round after round into the undertaker and, not surprisingly, hadn’t reacted well. He never reacted well.

Once Wolfwood had cataloged everything that he knew was Vash, his attention shifted to the parts that he wondered if he’d ever be able to make sense of.

Giant, white wings had exploded out around the gunslinger when he had thrown himself atop Wolfwood. The tips of his feathers brushed the ground on either side of the priest where they were tucked around him; shivering in agitation as if they had a mind of their own. And for all Wolfwood knew, maybe they did. A slight breeze ruffled his hair as the massive wings twitched and shifted with every movement Vash made.  

A low, threatening growl rumbled through Vash’s chest; so deep that Wolfwood felt it resonate through his very bones, causing the hair on the back of his neck to stand on end. The sound of a predator; one that knew without a doubt that it sat at the very top of the food chain and was clearly willing to prove it. 

Pulsating blue lines lit up every inch of exposed skin on the blonde, the brightness ebbing and flowing with every agitated breath Vash took. Long, deadly talons that were tearing the earth apart beside Wolfwood’s head as though Vash couldn’t feel his fingertips bleeding where they scraped against the unforgiving rock.

An ear-piercing shriek suddenly ripped the very air around them as Vash screamed his fury at the humans who had dared to harm Wolfwood. Glancing up from where he lay pressed into the sun-scorched dirt, Wolfwood felt a chill sweep through his body at the sight of honest-to-God fangs, Vash’s teeth snapping at the air menacingly and daring anyone to come closer. Blood ran in a slow trickle from the blonde’s right temple where a bullet had evidently grazed him; though he appeared unfazed, his attention focused unwaveringly on the threat in front of them. 

He wasn’t human. 

Wolfwood could feel where more than half a dozen bullets had struck him, lodged in his shoulder and his gut; though the pain had momentarily taken a backseat in the face of the creature that loomed over him protectively. He managed to tear his gaze away from the fearsome image that Vash was presenting, watching as the bounty hunters registered the sight before them and quickly decided to cut their losses; guns clattering loudly to the dirt as the humans abandoned their plans to collect Vash’s bounty. 

Wolfwood wanted to keep his eyes on their retreating forms until he could assure himself that they were safe - that Vash was safe, but the amount of blood he was spilling onto the ground beneath him forced him to finally shift his attention. A low groan escaped his throat as he shifted onto his side just enough to reach his hand into the inside pocket of his blazer, his fingers catching on the small glass vial that was - thankfully - still intact. 

A high-pitched whine above him drew his attention. He tipped his head back slightly and finally met Vash’s bright, aquamarine eyes, swimming with tears as he stared at Wolfwood upside down. He snorted softly, wincing when the motion caused white-hot pain to sear through his chest. 

“Always a crybaby, ain’t ya, Blondie?” He chided softly as Vash whimpered. He was proud of how calm his voice was, without a hint of the trepidation he was currently feeling now that Vash’s undivided attention was on him. He barely registered that his pupils had narrowed into vertical slits, reminding Wolfwood of the small black cat that Vash had attempted to befriend in the last town they’d stopped in. He had to suppress the shiver that threatened as he turned his attention back to the little glass vial in his hand. 

Bringing the vial to his mouth, he snapped the top off with his teeth, squeezing his eyes shut as the glass shards cut the inside of his cheek, though he paid little to no attention to the added sting. The serum would wipe that injury away just as surely as it was already starting to wipe away the evidence of his other wounds - his skin steaming as his body began the painful process of rejecting the slugs he had taken. 

“Wolfwood…” The creature… no, Vash whined softly, his voice resonating with an odd sort of warble likely due to the rumbling that continued to roll through his chest. Only now it was more of a purr and less of a growl though it was no less disconcerting. Vash had shifted to kneel in front of where he lay on the ground, his eyes darting over Wolfwood’s form, cataloging the damage he could see. He knew there was no hiding his secrets now that Vash had seen him use the serum and had watched as he began healing before his very attentive eyes. But where Wolfwood was expecting hesitation and suspicion, all he found was concern. It was etched across Vash’s expression and his hands - now devoid of talons - hovered over him, hesitant to touch even though it was clear he wanted to reassure himself that Wolfwood was alright. The pulsing blue lines on his skin still hummed with a gentle light, and Wolfwood could finally see that they trailed across his glowing irises as well which had returned to their normal appearance.

Beautiful.

Wolfwood grit his teeth against the pain that swept through his body as the serum went to work repairing the damage caused by the bullets. The agony of regeneration was its own form of hell, lead being pushed from his skin and his body knitting itself back together without so much as a scar to show for it. The bitter poison that kept him alive was a double edged sword, allowing him to heal inhumanly fast while he wanted nothing more than to simply lie down and die to escape the pain that came with it. 

The sweep of pain through his body sapped the last of his strength and Wolfwood fell forward on arms that could no longer hold him up. Before his face could hit the ground, strong arms grabbed him. Vash tugged him gently into his arms, cradling him against his leather-clad chest as he rose from where he had knelt in front of Wolfwood. Wolfwood blinked up at Vash, the sun haloed around his blonde head casting his face in shadow.

Angel.

Those giant wings still rose over Vash’s shoulders as he walked. Every once in a while Wolfwood saw him flinch minutely, though he never stumbled. Gradually the ringing in Wolfwood’s ears subsided enough that he could hear the screams and taunts of the townspeople as they shouted insults at Vash’s retreating back. Stones and rocks were hurled at him and yet he never paused, never turned his attention away from his mission to get Wolfwood and himself safely away. 

His wings curled around his form just slightly, protecting Wolfwood from the flying stones and taking the brunt of the town’s fear upon himself. His expression was sad and resigned as if he was used to being treated like a monster; as if he thought he somehow deserved it. 

Like recognizes like. This time, the thought left a bad taste in Wolfwood’s mouth as Vash carefully carried him out of yet another town that would no longer have them. As much as Wolfwood always tried to fight the side effects of the serum, his body was very quickly losing its ability to remain conscious. His body grew heavy in Vash’s arms and he barely registered when the blonde’s grip tightened slightly. He drifted away with one final thought. 

He never bought Vash his donuts.

**

Wolfwood jolted awake with a gasp, dreams of blonde angels fading quickly now that he was awake. His eyes focused on the ceiling above him, yellowed from smoke and age. His fingers clenched tightly against the scratchy blanket that covered him, grounding him as he tried to focus on the details around him. The Punisher was leaning against the wall next to the door and he breathed a sigh of relief, wondering how Vash had managed to carry not only himself but a three hundred pound machine gun as well.

A warm breeze drifted softly through the window next to the bed, cooling his flushed skin as it moved through the threadbare curtains. The warm glow of fading sunlight washed the room in orange, casting long shadows over the room as the second sun began to set. The sound of voices filtered up from the street below them, alerting Wolfwood to the fact that they were in yet another town. How long had he been out for? How far had Vash been forced to carry his unconscious form? 

A soft shuffling noise to his left caught his attention and he turned his head towards the sound. He was surprised to see Vash sitting on the floor in the middle of the room, his chin resting on his knees as he hugged them to his chest. He had discarded his coat, bright red leather tossed over the back of the only chair in the room. Vash froze like an ensnared animal the moment Wolfwood’s eyes landed on him, something close to fear flashing in his eyes when they met Wolfwood’s. He frowned. Vash had never looked at him in fear before and he found that he didn’t like the feeling in the slightest.

“Hey, Tongari.” He coughed to clear his throat, dry from lack of use. “Where are we? How long was I out for?” He watched Vash intently as he spoke, searching for anything that might clue him in to why Vash was acting so skittish. 

“You, uh… You’ve been unconscious since yesterday.” He glanced away from Wolfwood, unfolding himself from the floor and standing up. His movements were stiff as he brushed his pants off, as though he had been in his hunched position on the floor for too long. He moved over to the small table on the other side of the window, where a brown paper bag sat next to a pitcher of clear water. The sight of it made Wolfwood suddenly aware of how dry his throat was. “You must be hungry! All they have downstairs are sandwiches but they’re- they’re actually pretty good! They’ve got real vegetables here! I got yours without onions because I know you don’t really like them all that much. And… They have a strong plant here so the water is clean. I can go back down and get something stronger if you’d rather. I know you sometimes-.” Wolfwood stopped him before he could continue his nervous rambling.

“Vash.” The blonde clamped his mouth shut immediately, his eyes widening when Wolfwood used his given name. He froze again, holding himself still as a statue as if to avoid being perceived. “What’s gotten into you, Blondie?” Wolfwood slowly moved himself into a sitting position, swinging his legs off the side of the bed. Vash whined low in his throat and took a step forward as if he wanted to offer his help before he caught himself. Wolfwood saw his hands clench as if he had to physically restrain himself from reaching out. 

Something about that didn't sit right with him. 

“Vash…” Blue eyes darted up to meet his before sliding away again to stare off to the side of where Wolfwood was sitting. The blonde was picking absently at his fingers, shifting his weight from one foot to the other as he waited for Wolfwood to say something else; looking, for all intents and purposes, like he was simply waiting for the right opportunity to run. The only problem was, Wolfwood wasn’t sure what to say because he had no idea why Vash was acting this way in the first place. 

“Talk to me. What’s going on in that spiky head of yours?”

“I-. You-.” Vash huffed an annoyed breath, frowning as he struggled to find the words he wanted to explain what was going on in his head. Wolfwood sat as quietly and as patiently as he could, giving Vash time to collect his thoughts. Guilt and fear were written all over the blonde’s face and Wolfwood suddenly had a pretty good idea of what the problem was. 

“You almost died yesterday! If we hadn’t stopped… If I had just been quicker… If- If I hadn’t been distracted.” He met Wolfwood’s gaze, drowning in his guilt as he spoke. “You saw me. You saw what I am - what I become! I’m nothing but a monster, Wolfwood! But I… I couldn’t leave you there. I couldn’t-. Not without knowing if you were going to live. So I brought you here. Even though I know you aren’t going to want to travel with me anymore. I-. Wolfwood, I’m sorry. I’m so sorry!” Vash took a step towards the bed and when Wolfwood didn’t move, he took another. He sank down onto his knees in front of Wolfwood as though his strings had been cut. Vash had made sure to stop just out of Wolfwood’s reach, though whether he had done it out of fear of Wolfwood’s touch or respect for his space, he couldn’t know. 

Something about seeing a literal angel subjugate himself before him left a horrible, ashy taste in Wolfwood's mouth. He leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees and fixed Vash with a fierce stare. 

“What are you apologizing for now? We made it out alive because of you. That should count for something. And why, in the name of God, would I not want to travel with you anymore? That has got to be the dumbest thing you’ve ever said to me, Tongari. And you’ve said more than your fair share of dumb shit in the time I’ve known you.” Wolfwood paused to take a breath and Vash used that moment to interrupt him. 

“Because I’m not human!” Wolfwood blinked. Vash never raised his voice, least of all with him. He searched Vash’s eyes, swimming with tears that he was struggling not to let fall. His fists were clenched in his lap and his body was wracked with fine tremors despite the warmth of the evening. In his agitation, small, downy white feathers were starting to make an appearance along his flushed cheekbones and Wolfwood was almost struck dumb at the quiet divinity before him. 

“Is that all?” Wolfwood chuckled lightly. “Fuck, Vash; I’ve suspected that for a while now. Finally got confirmation though. The wings are a little hard to hide, aren’t they?” He watched Vash flinch as if he’d struck him and he suddenly remembered the rocks and slurs the people had flung so casually at his back. Clearly, it hadn’t been the first time people had reacted that way to him. Did he expect Wolfwood to lash out at him too? Vash started shaking harder until Wolfwood worried that he was moments away from rattling apart into pieces. 

“Hey. It’s okay. I’m sure you’ve figured out that I ain’t exactly human either.” He snorted derisively. “Guess it takes one to know one, huh Tongari?”

Vash looked at him through eyes glassy with tears, a few escaping to trail down his cheeks. Slowly, the trembling began to subside and Vash eventually slumped forward, bracing his hands against the rough floorboards. He hung his head and sobbed at Wolfwood’s feet, murmuring his broken apologies between heaving breaths. 

Wolfwood slid off the bed to kneel on the floor in front of the gunslinger-turned-angel, reaching out and gently urging Vash to meet his eyes. Blue eyes bright with tears looked up at him in sorrow. Wolfwood felt his heart clench at the sight and it only served to solidify his conviction. He reached out slowly and traced his fingers down Vash’s jaw, being mindful of the feathers. He gently cupped Vash’s face in his warm, calloused hands and simply stared at him, memorizing Vash as he was in this moment; stripped raw and pure in his hands. 

There was nothing Vash could do - or be - that would be capable of driving Wolfwood from his side. Wings… fangs… all of his inhuman bits. None of it mattered to Wolfwood. In his eyes, he was still just Vash. He had seen the blonde take bullets and bleed for him, had watched him spare people who didn’t deserve mercy. He had seen him cry on the rare occasions when they were able to find fresh donuts on their travels. He had watched Vash grow wings and expose his truth all to keep Wolfwood safe. It was a show of trust that Wolfwood would die to be worthy of.

Wolfwood had seen him at what he considered his worst and had felt something unfurl in his chest at the sight. 

“No more apologies, hmm? You saved my life yesterday. That’s pretty much the opposite of a monster in my book.” He smiled softly. “You looked more like an angel. My beautiful angel.” It was as close to a confession as Wolfwood was likely to get because he knew there was no version of this where he got to keep the angel cradled in his bloody, unworthy hands.

Vash’s breath caught in his throat as Wolfwood trailed his fingers lightly across his bottom lip, dark eyes following the movement with something close to awe. Vash’s eyes were brimming with tears as he took in every detail of the man sitting in front of him, shaking minutely as he fought to stay still in Wolfwood’s hands. His bright, bright eyes watched him, equal parts hopeful and wary; afraid of being hurt by the man in front of him. 

As if Wolfwood could ever bring himself to hurt Vash now. 

If he had thought he was in love with Vash before, it was nothing when compared to the feeling constricting his chest right now. He wanted to worship the angel in his hands until the sadness left his eyes. He longed to whisper his praise into pale skin, to lift his voice in prayer to the angel before him. He was desperate to give himself over to Vash completely, to allow the blonde to cleanse him or break him as he saw fit. 

It was on the tip of his tongue to ask Vash to leave with him; to beg him on his knees if needed. Anything to get Vash to abandon his life of martyrdom and settle down somewhere quiet, someplace where no one knew either of their names or what they were. Somewhere safe for Wolfwood to devote himself to this new religion, to his worship of the angel in front of him. 

But he knew that wasn’t a life that was available to either of them.

Damn Knives to hell for the position that he had put the two of them in. Wolfwood knew as well as he knew his own name that Vash wasn’t going to stop until his brother was stopped - couldn't stop. Even if it meant dying at the hands of his genocidal twin. And that would be the day when all the color would leave Wolfwood’s world.

“Wolfwood…?” 

Wolfwood looked up and met Vash’s eyes again, where hope flickered hesitantly. “I’m not going to leave you, Spikey. I couldn’t even if I wanted to.” Wolfwood smiled sadly. “I know you know what I am and who sent me. You aren’t really an idiot, no matter how much you may try to act like one sometimes.” Vash laughed lightly at that, and Wolfwood smiled at the sound. 

“Yesterday…” He cleared his throat before he could continue and Vash watched him warily. “Yesterday, I was in the presence of an angel. For the first time in my pathetic life. And I was ashamed, Vash. Ashamed of all the times these hands have tended to you without knowing the truth of what you are. I am so sorry that I cannot touch you with cleaner hands, Angel.” He went to pull his hands away from Vash’s face, forgetting how fast Vash could move when he wanted to. He startled slightly when Vash grabbed his hands in his own, the contrast from his prosthetic making him shiver even as he was enveloped by warmth on his other side.

“Don’t. Don’t say that. I am not what you think I am. I destroy everything I touch… Everything- everything I love.” He turned Wolfwood’s hands over in his, cradling them gently as he ran his thumb over the lines on Wolfwood’s palm. “Everything I touch, Wolfwood. Do you understand what I’m saying? You shouldn’t want to touch me - you shouldn’t want me touching you. Not knowing what I am. I can’t- I can’t watch you destroy yourself for me. Whatever he has over you, whatever he’s using to buy your cooperation… I’ll deliver myself to Knives and you can be free. I swear I will! No one else has to get hurt. You don’t have to get hurt again.” He lowered his head, whispering his next words so softly that Wolfwood almost didn’t hear them. “I can’t go through that again, Wolfwood… I thought-.” His voice broke on a sob. “I thought I was about to watch you die. I- I lost control. I could have hurt so many people. All because I was foolish enough to-.”

“Foolish enough to…?” Wolfwood urged gently, daring to hope. Even after everything that had happened, after everything that was yet to come. Vash raised his head and met Wolfwood’s eyes, shimmering with fresh tears. 

“-to fall in love with you.” Vash’s words were quiet but strong, without a trace of hesitation. “Nick, I am so sorry…” Wolfwood fought to suppress the small shiver that raced down his spine when Vash used his name like that, like it was precious; like he was precious.

“You idiot.” Vash jolted as if Wolfwood had struck him, looking at him with his signature puppy dog eyes. “Vash, I have been in love with you from the start. Despite knowing that I didn’t deserve to even dream of a future where you felt the same. The Eye stripped me of my humanity, turning me into this.” Wolfwood gestured to himself. “How could I- how could I dare to think you’d want to be with someone like me.”

“And you call me a martyr.” Vash laughed quietly, still playing with Wolfwood’s fingers. “Nick, you are good, and kind. I have seen you, watched you when you think no one is looking. You do so much more good than you realize. I could never imagine wanting to be with anyone other than you. But-.” Vash paused and Wolfwood felt his heart drop into his stomach. “That’s not an option for people like us, is it? You know I have to stop my brother. As much as I would love nothing more than to spend my tomorrows with you, I can’t. Not yet. Not knowing that Knives is still out there. Please understand…” 

“I know, Blondie. You wouldn’t be you otherwise.” He brought Vash’s hands to his lips, placing a reverent kiss on the back of his knuckles. “Until then, will you let me hold the parts of you that you find the hardest to love? Let me prove that you are worthy of so much more than you allow yourself to have.”

"N- Nick...?"

“Angel, will you let me love you while I can?”

Vash nodded mutely, fresh tears spilling from his eyes and Wolfwood knew that he’d never behold a more beautiful sight even if he lived forever. He whispered his fervent thanks against Vash’s skin, a prayer to the only holy being he would ever worship.