that's practically zen.

It didn’t seem like something a Plant should be able to do but, then again, Nicholas D Wolfwood hadn’t spent his time at the orphanage reading up on How Plants Worked, because he had not had one single aspiration to be some kind of Plant engineer or whatever.

Funny how things worked out.

Still, even if he didn’t know much, Wolfwood knew enough to know that, in general, Plants did not just up and spin someone off to another dimension, or whatever the hell had happened to him. They made water, and generated electricity, and helped with food production. All that good, somewhat normal stuff that humanity needed to survive from day to day, week to week.

Not interdimensional travel. Right?

Vash probably would’ve told him if that was just a thing that some Plants could do, wouldn’t he? They’d had conversations about it. It was interesting, in a way. Wolfwood didn’t know much, Vash could’ve told him anything. Maybe, if he had told Wolfwood that, Wolfwood would have laughed it off as a very bad, unconvincing joke, and moved on.

But he would have remembered that. He was sure he would have remembered that.

Not that it mattered, right now, because unless Vash had told him explicitly how that all was supposed to work, Wolfwood was shit outta luck to figure his way out of this one without help.

And help was...

“You’re so fluffy.”

Fingers raked through his hair, wrapping some of it into a spiral and dropping it back down. Wolfwood’s shoulders tensed, and instead of backing off, the hand came back, repeating that little movement.

“What the hell are you talking about?”

Jerking away from the touch, Wolfwood turned, glaring at the owner of the overly-touchy hand.

One Vash the Stampede, but not his Vash.

This one, somehow, seemed taller, though maybe that was just the fact that he was carrying himself without what seemed to be a care in the world. Red coat, but this one was a duster, buttons up the front, high neck, straps. Orange sunglasses, but, noticeably smaller, more manageable, minus the design of the frames. Prosthetic arm, that much Wolfwood could tell, but where his Vash had a very obvious jade beauty made of old tech, unless you knew this Vash had that arm, you might not guess right away, under the straps and leather.

And, yeah, there were a lot of straps and leather.

Like, a lot.

Like, Wolfwood kind of wondered exactly how long it took him to get in and out of all of it if he needed to.

For no reason at all. Really, for no reason.

“Your hair. I don’t know, it’s so different. You’re fluffy, like a Tomas chick. My Wolfwood isn’t so fluffy. It’s cute. It’s like you’re not a fully formed—”

“—You’re an idiot.”

Vash beamed, pointing at him.

“That is like my Wolfwood, though. Words of love. I understand how you talk.”

Wolfwood could feel himself bristling.

This Vash was something he was having a hard time getting a handle on, and he didn’t like that. On top of the whole ‘getting sent to another dimension by a Plant’ thing, trying to work out how to wrangle a new Humanoid Typhoon that was still enough like his to be uncanny, was not a party.

Sometimes Wolfwood thought that the things he went through meant he really was sort of owed some kind of party, but the powers above had not seen fit to provide just yet.

They certainly hadn’t when they had seen fit to allow a Plant to pluck Wolfwood from the dusty, backwater town he and Vash had been staying in, just to plonk him down in a different dusty, backwater town.

That had been yesterday. One minute, normal, bickering with Vash about the way to go about dealing with some thugs that were causing trouble in town. The next, very not normal, very much knocked ass over tea kettle in the sand, rolled up against the massive supports of this new town’s Plant tank, without his Vash, without the Punisher, and without any real idea of what had happened.

And this guy hadn’t been much help.

He’d been there, of course. First thing Wolfwood saw when he got himself upright. Staring at him like he was some kind of strange worm, eyes huge behind those sunglasses, hands clasped in front of his chest while he looked Wolfwood over before saying, extremely unhelpfully, “all right then.”

It was decidedly not ‘all right then’. From that moment on, Wolfwood had been dealing with a Vash who knew exactly who he was, and had a maddeningly simple but likely accurate idea of what had happened (“I think the Plant swapped you with my Wolfwood”), but who couldn’t seem to keep his hands to himself, and wouldn’t stop staring at him. Wolfwood had almost been afraid to go to sleep, before he’d discovered that if he shoved a chair under the handle of his door at the inn, it couldn’t be opened.

That had been a relief for all of a few hours, before he’d woken up and found Vash sitting at the table in the room, the curtains waving softly in the night breeze, staring at him. And all Vash had done was smile and say “I just wanted to make sure you were having sweet dreams.”

That had, really, been the end of any sweet dreams Wolfwood had been having. They had reached some kind of messed up silent agreement where Vash stayed where he was, and Wolfwood rolled over in bed and tried to pretend he couldn’t feel himself being stared at.

By the time morning had come, just a few hours ago, Wolfwood was more than ready to really try to figure this out. The concept of the whole thing reversing itself on its own was clearly not going to happen. Wolfwood was going to have to tackle getting back to his Vash himself.

Or, as it turned out, with this Vash following along with him as he made his way to stand at the end of the dusty road leading up to the Plant tank, yammering away the whole time. Wolfwood hadn’t really been listening; maybe if he had been, he would have understood what had led up to being called fluffy.

He didn’t really want to, though.

“If you’re going to stand there petting me, can you at least try to think and help me out?”

Vash grinned, moving closer. His fingers flexed, the subtle movement of it threatening as hell.

“You’re going to let me pet you if I do?”

Wolfwood gritted his teeth. What was this guy’s problem?

“I didn’t say that!”

Quickly enough that Wolfwood didn’t really have time to register it, Vash moved in close to him, both hands coming up to cup his face. He used that hold to press their foreheads together, a dramatic sigh coming out of him before he said, “you didn’t need to, my love, I know what you want from me.”

Wolfwood’s hands pressed up between them, shoving Vash back a few steps. He could feel heat spreading up from under his own collar, something he tried very hard to ignore. For his part, Vash was smirking, or, more, he was trying to pretend he wasn’t, trying to look innocent as he batted his eyelashes at Wolfwood.

“I changed my mind, hands to yourself!”

Vash shrugged, an annoyingly placid smile on his face.

“Suit yourself, Nico.”

Now, that was something he didn’t need to hear coming out of that mouth when, a second ago, Vash had absolutely been coming on to him. He was so much more forward than Wolfwood’s Vash. No hesitancy there, he wasn’t waiting for some kind of build-up that would break the dam and let everything loose. There was no dam, here.

“Just try and think of a way to fix this, all right?”

Shaking his head, annoyance coursing through his veins and attempting to neutralize the other feelings he’d been fighting a minute ago, Wolfwood moved away from Vash to sit himself down at a table outside one of the nearby saloons. It was damn hot in the sun, and he was having a hard enough time thinking already; he didn’t need to add that to it.

And he needed a smoke. That thought was almost background as he brought a cigarette to his lips, lighting it and tucking his lighter back away as the chair across from him dragged out. Vash sat down in it, propping his chin on his hands, elbows on the table top. He was staring again.

“That’s not helping, needle-noggin.”

The second the nickname had passed through his lips, Wolfwood knew a few things.

One, he wasn’t sure how he felt about using that one for this Vash. Yes, this was some kind of version of his Vash – some very peppy, very handsy, very unfortunately intuitive version – but he’d never once used any nickname for Vash on anyone else.

Two, Vash loved it.

There was no way around pretending that wasn’t the case. Not with the big, stupid grin that spread across his stupid face, and the way he reached out, both hands grabbing both of Wolfwood’s, pulling him bodily across the table towards himself. The suddenness of it jostled the fresh cig from Wolfwood’s mouth, bouncing it into the sand, and he wasn’t sure what was more annoying; that, or this.

“You use it, too. That’s one of my favourite petnames.”

Wolfwood tensed, stopping in the middle of trying to pull his hands free – was this one stronger than his Vash, or just less willing to give in? – to stare across the table.

Petnames.

“It’s not a petname, it’s a nickname!”

Vash smiled serenely.

“You’ll catch on eventually. You’re just starting out. You haven’t figured out how in lo-”

“-Let go!”

Wolfwood wasn’t sure if Vash had loosened his grip, or if he had just managed to finally use enough strength to get himself free. All he knew was that one second he was desperately yanking out of Vash’s hands, needing that sentence to not be finished, and the next he was toppling over backwards, both him and the chair rolling off the edge of the wooden boards that made up the front porch of the saloon and landing on the dusty ground.

It was a damn good thing they were outside the saloon, rather than inside it. If they’d been sitting inside, Wolfwood would’ve had to deal with a hell of a lot more eyes on him. As it was, as he rolled from his back onto his front and pushed up, he had to glare at a couple walking past, inspiring them to look away again and mind their own damn business.

“I like your slippers.”

Still on the ground on all fours – probably a very bad position to be putting himself in – Wolfwood glared over his shoulder. Sitting at the table, one leg crossed over the other, Vash was smiling at him, eyes half-lidded. When Wolfwood, instead of vocally asking what the hell he was talking about now, gave him a look that did the same thing, Vash tipped his chin, indicating Wolfwood’s feet.

Oh.

“They’re not slippers.”

Standing up, finally, he righted the chair and slammed it back down onto the wooden boards before sitting in it again. This time, he kept his hands close to himself.

“They’re just shoes. Not ridiculous ones like whatever you have going on with those boots.”

As he said it, Vash lifted the leg that was crossed over, both of them looking at the complicated, nearly knee-high leather footwear he was wearing. Not to mention, more belts. And Wolfwood thought his Vash had clunky boots. He wasn’t going to criticize them again any time soon.

If and when he got back to even see the damn things on him.

“Anyway, can we focus again? How do I get back? And aren’t you missing your Wolfwood?”

That seemed to snap Vash out of whatever train of thought he had been in. For a second, Wolfwood swore he saw something like genuine concern flash over his face.

“Well, sure. But, he can handle himself. He’s always getting me out of sticky jams, I’m sure he’ll be back soon. Knows I can’t get by without him.”

That hadn’t been at all what Wolfwood had been expecting. This guy had been so much for the entire sixteen hours that he’d known him, and Wolfwood had fully expected to be waved off, misdirected or outright ignored when he asked what he had. Instead, Vash’s tone had been almost soft, a little wistful. Maybe there was something serious in there after all, some part that was more like the Vash he’d left in his dimension.

“I hope he gets back soon, though. If he gets back, and you stay? Oh boy, sorry to your Vash but yippee for me. Two Wolfwoods.”

And, there he went. Shoving up from the table, Wolfwood left, shaking his head as he walked away, heading, instead, up the dusty road towards the Plant. Maybe he would think better if he was closer to the thing that he suspected might have the ability to get him out of this mess, especially if it had somehow gotten him into it in the first place.

That, and he needed to walk off the feeling that Vash’s actually insightful words had left him with.

The other him was probably very capable, Wolfwood didn’t doubt it. He’d dealt with this Vash for who knew how long. And now, he was probably with Wolfwood’s own Vash, so at least blondie wouldn’t be without someone to watch his back when he was too busy being a sacrificial lamb to do it himself, but...

A spike of something like jealousy went through Wolfwood. If that Wolfwood was anything like this Vash, the whole game that he’d been wrapped up in, back home, the one where he and Vash danced around the elephant in the room without acknowledging it, slowly going mad, might have gone right out the window.

Wolfwood wasn’t sure he’d blame Vash if he let whoever this Vash’s Wolfwood was sweep him off his feet and--

Shoving that thought aside as he shoved his hands in his pockets, Wolfwood glanced over his shoulder.

As suspected, there was his red-clad shadow.

“What are the Plants like, here?” he asked, hoping to keep them on topic. “Where I’m from, they’re generators, mostly. Electricity, water, heat, food production... Is it the same here?”

Jogging to catch up to him – just a few short strides, really – Vash hummed, clearly thinking.

“I would say so, yep. More or less.” His eyes watched Wolfwood’s face as he slowly said his next few words. “How much do you know about your Vash?”

“I know,” Wolfwood said, flatly. “I know you’re a—”

Vash’s arm swung around his shoulders, tugging Wolfwood into his side, and his leather gloved hand clapped over Wolfwood’s mouth.

“Right, you know enough to be dangerous! I like that in my preacher man.”

Working his face loose from Vash’s hold, Wolfwood snapped, “I’m not a preacher man, I’m an undertaker!”

“Oooh, edgy! Okay, well, I like that in my undertaker. Now, let’s try keeping our voices down and get back on track. So, you know, then, it’s a little more complicated than, say, Plants being generic batteries.”

Oh, yeah.

Wolfwood understood that, loud and clear. That was why he had a very, very strong suspicion that he knew how he’d ended up here. The means, anyway, if not the reason.

“So, if that’s how it is, you really think the Plant could have done this?”

“That… is a very good question,” Vash said, making all the right expressions to show he was thinking about it. He couldn’t have been thinking about it all that hard, though; his arm was still locked around Wolfwood’s shoulders, and no matter how Wolfwood squirmed, somehow he wasn’t getting free “I guess it’s possible. It made the most sense at the time. Even I don’t know every single thing a Plant can do.”

Wolfwood sensed the truth in that. His Vash didn’t either, and even if this one seemed like there was a layer under this facade that had seen a lot of shit and knew a lot because of it, Wolfwood suspected it could still be difficult to fully bridge the gap between dependent and independent.

Their stroll had brought them much closer to the Plant, now, and, after ducking quickly to slip out of Vash’s grasp, Wolfwood craned his neck back, moving even closer. The damn tank was huge, much bigger than the ones he was used to seeing. Did that mean these ones were stronger? Different in some incredibly notable and drastic way?

Glancing over his shoulder at Vash, Wolfwood wondered. 

“So, if the Plant did this…” Wolfwood started, looking up at the thing. It was curled up into a ball, much like the ones he knew. Dormant, maybe. He’d never thought to ask Vash if that was a comfort thing or if they chose that position to sleep in because it was safest. Either way, there were slight differences that he could see right away.

He kept running into those slight differences on this unplanned jaunt to another dimension. 

“How do we reverse it?”

Just behind his shoulder, Vash hummed, shrugged, and then pointed, drawing Wolfwood’s attention to the workers milling about the base of the tank, coming and going. Shift change, maybe. “They’re the experts.”

Wolfwood narrowed his eyes. 

“Aren’t you an expert? Considering you’re—“

Vash’s finger pressed to Wolfwood’s lips, shushing him as he leaned in. When he spoke, his voice was soft, light and easy, despite the clear warning Wolfwood could see in his eyes. 

Slight differences. 

“You’re kind of being a lot right now, Wolfwood. And even if you’re technically right, I can’t think on an empty stomach.”

That sounded like an excuse to Wolfwood, but he couldn’t counter it with any kind of sure feeling. Maybe Vash wasn’t looking to get rid of him right yet, but if the way he’d talked about his Wolfwood was any kind of indication, making excuses to avoid finding a fix for all this seemed to go against sense.

Then again, this Vash wasn’t exactly striking Wolfwood was someone with a lot of sense.

Grabbing Vash by the wrist, he removed the finger from his lips, leaning in himself.

“Kind of hard not to be a lot when I’m the only one of us trying to figure this out. You trying food as a bargaining chip now, since I wouldn’t let you pet me?”

Vash had some kind of barely concealed delight showing on his face. It had been there since Wolfwood had leaned in, but now it was much more obvious, just about making his eyes sparkle. It was ridiculous, how was he even real?

“Will you accept food as a bargaining chip, if I promise I will be the most helpful version of me I can possibly be to sort this out once I’ve had a donut?” he asked. Over his shoulder, Wolfwood could see two of the plant engineers eying them. He would too, if he was watching this from the outside. Didn’t mean that Wolfwood had to like it, though.

“Maybe even a drink? Are you listening to me? This whole bargaining thing doesn’t work that well if you’re not listening to my part.”

“Yeah, sure, fine. We can find something to eat,” Wolfwood agreed, tuning back into the conversation. “But then you are going to help me with this. My blondie isn’t like you.” Letting go of Vash’s wrist, he rolled his shoulder end he turned to head back the way they’d come. He had no idea what this town had to offer, but there had to be something somewhere, right?

As it turned out, that wasn’t the furthest thing from the truth, but this dusty, backwater town was a bit less diversified than the one that he’d been snatched out of. Despite the size of that Plant, what they had amounted to a handful of saloons, a few shops and, thankfully, a bakery that happened to be selling the exact thing Vash had been whining about.

Donuts.

That was another thing the two of them shared, Wolfwood thought, standing back and watching while Vash ordered at the counter. Donuts were fine, but his Vash really did have a fondness for them. One that he, himself, might have used to his own advantage, only three days ago.

Before they’d gotten to that backwater town, and they’d been on the outskirts of November, and Vash had been wistfully looking at a box of pastries a lady had gone by with, lamenting how long it had been since he’d had a good donut. Wolfwood had told him that they had bigger problems and to focus, but he’d come back to their room that night with a box in hand.

A half dozen donuts. He’d played it cool, said he just didn’t want to listen to Vash’s whining about missing out once he found out the ones here were sort of famous. Still, on the inside he’d been quietly celebrating, basking in the look that Vash had given him.

“Wolfwood!”

Snapping out of it, Wolfwood focused on this Vash, again, and just barely didn’t immediately regret it.

“Pay for me?”

Wolfwood gaped.

“Pay for-- I don’t have any money, you idiot!”

Vash pouted, and then dug into one of his own pockets. Behind the counter, the baker was clearly trying not to let every single one of her thoughts show on her face. Wolfwood almost would have apologized, but, technically, he wasn’t responsible for this one.

Something like guilt nudged him at that thought. If he thought the other Wolfwood was taking care of his Vash – meaning, making sure he was staying alive, not anything else – then maybe he should be trying to return the favour.

Taking a step forward, and then another, Wolfwood let himself walk up to the counter, taking the little bag of donuts when it was handed over. It was still warm, and that was kind of nice. Next to him, Vash smiled.

“I’ll carry these. Since you paid.”

The next stop was, apparently, booze. There was a part of Wolfwood that was curious about how that would be, here, and he couldn’t really hide it. Vash clearly had something in mind, though, leading him right to it, not pausing for very long for Wolfwood to browse through the small selection they had.

“You don’t want that.” Wolfwood looked at where Vash was standing, looking at a different shelf than he was, but clearly paying enough attention to have seen Wolfwood looking at some kind of whiskey. “You’ll drink the whole bottle and it won’t do anything,” he continued, matter-of-factly, before turning and looking Wolfwood up and down. “Well... Maybe it would get you. You drink often?”

Wolfwood knew that was probably meant only to be out of curiosity, and nothing else, but he couldn’t stop the look he gave Vash, flat and unimpressed.

“Can you hurry up and get what you’re after?”

“Working on it!” Vash crooned, turning back to the shelf and picking up the bottle that had been right in front of his damn face.

He had to be doing this on purpose. Had to be. There was no other explanation.

Was he trying to make Wolfwood crazy?

Once they had paid up, again, Vash led the way back into the hot afternoon. Wolfwood was still cradling the donut bag, but he had the bottle in hand and now he used that to gesture towards their inn. It was at the corner, nothing special, but Wolfwood was almost relieved to see it. Something familiar in all this.

“If we’re going to brainstorm, we should do it out of this heat, and in there where I know we can sit and you can say all the dangerous things you want without me having to try to smother you.” Vash, boldly, after a statement like that, winked at him, before striding out into the street, and leading the way towards the inn, leaving Wolfwood to jog after him.

Did he have stupidly long legs, or what?

“Wait, you bought booze. And donuts. That’s your idea of something that’s going to get your mind off your empty stomach good enough to help me out?”

“Help us out,” Vash corrected, holding open the inn door for him. Obediently, Wolfwood walked through, and then immediately regretted being so obedient when he felt Vash’s hand on his lower back, guiding him towards the stairs.

Handsy.

“As you’ve helpfully pointed out, my Wolfwood is missing and you’re very cute, and I’m having way too much fun with you, but I am probably going to need him to come back sooner rather than later.” Up the stairs they went, Vash’s hand staying put the whole time.

Right up until they got to the top of the stairs.

Then it slid down and--

“Hey!”

Wolfwood jumped, putting a few feet between them, glaring at Vash with his back now facing the wall. Vash, infuriating asshole that he was, smiled innocently.

“It was just a little pinch. You really are still going through it, aren’t you?” His smile turned almost pitying as he turned down the hallway that led to the rooms they’d occupied the night before. “Poor thing.”

Wolfwood should throw the donuts down the stairs.

It would serve Vash right.

Instead, shoulders hunched in annoyance, he followed down the hallway, showing that he had learned his lesson when Vash unlocked his room door and gestured for him to go in, only to have Wolfwood glare at him.

“Oh, fine! It was only going to be a slap this time, anyway!”

“That doesn’t make me feel better.”

Wolfwood walked into the room, setting the donut bag down on the little table next to the window. The room was the mirror image of his own. The one he’d slept fitfully in until waking up to find Vash sitting there watching him. Same generic bed, same sparse rack for hanging things on, same tiny table with a small ashtray on it. Like the one in his room, there were a few butts in it, though Wolfwood knew those hadn’t been his. The other Wolfwood, probably, which was an interesting thought.

By the time today was over, Wolfwood would probably be adding to the ashes in that dish. He could already feel it. Had been feeling it all day.

The main difference between the two rooms, though, was the wrapped up cross leaned in the corner.

It wasn’t that much different than his own. It had been on the ground nearby when he’d found himself staring at this Vash, last night, but before he had touched the thing, Vash had pulled it away by one of the straps, shaking his head.

“You’re a Wolfwood, but I don’t know if he’d be happy if I let you have his Punisher.”

This Punisher looked thinner, the body narrower in general, compared to his own. Wolfwood’s fingers itched to unwrap it and see what it was like underneath, but Vash hadn’t let that happen.

What was going on with his own Punisher? Was his Vash being as stubborn about not letting the other Wolfwood touch it?

Surprisingly, Wolfwood found that he hoped so. Unless they were in real danger, he didn’t think he liked the idea of some other Wolfwood handling his gun.

Maybe this Vash had a point.

“Have a seat, stop staring at it.”

Vash had produced two glasses from somewhere else in the room and set them on the table now, dropping into one of the chairs, himself.

“I’m not going to let you use it. You don’t need it. Waving a gun at the Plant isn’t going to get it to send you back.”

Maybe he had a point.

Maybe.

“How do you know? We haven’t tried that,” Wolfwood pointed out, pulling out the other chair to make himself comfortable. Across the table, Vash pushed one of the glasses towards him, smirking now. He seemed pleased, and Wolfwood supposed that could be because of the alcohol.

“That sounded like him,” he said, before opening the bottle, and pouring generously into each of their glasses. It was, probably, more than Wolfwood thought he should be drinking, if they were going to actually talk about this whole thing, but he would just keep from finishing the whole glass. This Vash seemed like he might operate okay on booze to a certain point. “He would try that, too. It’s weird, how you two are the same, but also different.”

Setting the bottle aside, Vash lifted his glass and, without having to think about it, Wolfwood did the same, both of them clinking together softly before they each took a sip.

The whiskey was smokey, a hint of spice hitting his tongue immediately, and Wolfwood set the glass down again, giving it an eye.

“I picked a good one, didn’t I?”

Looking across the table, Wolfwood found Vash watching him.

Because of course he was.

“He likes it, doesn’t he?”

Not for the first time, Wolfwood saw that flicker on Vash’s face. The longer all of this went on, the more he was letting the mask slip. He hadn’t seemed all that concerned at the jump, but now that they were having to actually try and think about things, because the Plant wasn’t just doing it on its own, maybe it was setting in that this was real.

He and whoever the Wolfwood from here was, were swapped.

“Do you?”

Wolfwood thought about the question, then nodded. Vash did the same.

“He does like it. Introduced me to it, actually. I wondered if you would.”

Pulling the bag of donuts towards himself, Vash dug one out, and then leaned back in his chair, regarding Wolfwood across the table.

“You should tell me about your Vash, since you can’t treat me to his favourite things.”

Wolfwood had told himself, when the glass had first been poured for him, that he wouldn’t drink the whole thing. He needed to stay sharp, not just because he was trying to problem-solve, but because just because this was some form of Vash didn’t mean he should trust him entirely. It seemed smart, even essential, to keep his head on straight.

Somehow, though, hours later, not only had he finished that glass, but he was on to his third. The donuts were long gone, shared between the two of them, though Vash had absolutely eaten more, and...

“He should wear more leather. Like me.”

“No, I don’t think so.”

Wolfwood propped his elbow on the table, shaking his head. Across from him, Vash had undone the collar of his coat, and though Wolfwood couldn’t fully tell what was underneath, he suspected it was more leather. Definitely more leather.

“Because it would take you longer to get him out of it?”

Vash raised his eyebrows, smirking. That look had gone from teasing to knowing, and Wolfwood didn’t know how to feel about it. This Vash knew things about him that he hadn’t ever once admitted out loud. He and his Wolfwood had a relationship that had, clearly, stopped giving room to the elephant, acknowledged it, and gone forward from there.

And he clearly found it hilarious that Wolfwood and his Vash hadn’t. Wolfwood hadn’t even admitted it, but he could tell Vash knew. He was telegraphing it, constantly.

“We’re trying to deal with his psycho brother, I’m not thinking about that.”

“And it is so nice to know that in every universe, Knives is described like that. I thought I did something wrong, but you’re telling me yours is just as unreasonable.” Vash shook his head solemnly, raising his glass. “Sad.”

He took a sip, and then added, “you are thinking about it, though.”

“What about your Wolfwood, huh?” Wolfwood cut in, having had enough of the track that comment was leading them down. “Does he really have the crosses on his sleeves?”

Vash nodded. “Mhmm. And he knows how to button his jacket, which I see you haven’t mastered yet.”

A tease, meant as bait, but it was one Wolfwood was hard pressed to stop himself taking. The whiskey was making it more difficult to just let Vash run his mouth and ignore it.

“It’s restricting. I can get more movement like this, my Punisher is bigger than his.”

“Size isn’t everything.”

“Oh, shut up!”

Wolfwood was laughing. He couldn’t tell if the look on Vash’s face was shock, or something else, but he didn’t mind the look of it.

Could be that this Vash was growing on him, too.

Maybe he just had a general weakness for Vash the Stampede.

As soon as that thought occurred to Wolfwood, he reached for his glass, downing another mouthful. The whiskey had started to go down a lot easier after that first glass. He could see why the other Wolfwood liked it so much.

“There’s another thing that’s different between how you dress and how my Wolfwood dresses.”

Looking over the top of his glass, Wolfwood swallowed. “Oh yeah? And what’s that?”

Vash smiled.

Wolfwood didn’t know if he liked that smile.

That smile looked like a threat, and he was the only one in close enough proximity to be victimized.

“My Wolfwood learned to wear lace-up shoes.”

Wolfwood blinked.

“I’m sorry?”

Vash’s smile turned into a wide, toothy grin.

Oh, no, that was definitely a threat.

“I said, my Wolfwood...”

He was an idiot. He shouldn’t have asked Vash to repeat himself.

Vash was pushing his chair out, getting up.

“...learned that he should be wearing...”

Wolfwood should run. He didn’t, and that was the critical error.

“...lace-up shoes.”

Before Wolfwood could scramble out of his seat and at least try to get away, Vash had swooped in, getting one hand around his ankle and yanking. Wolfwood flailed, one hand gripping the table edge, the other holding on to the back of the chair as Vash slipped his shoe off and tossed it somewhere over his shoulder. Wolfwood could hear it clattering somewhere on the boards and, briefly, he considered his options, looking around at the Punisher.

Then he felt Vash’s cheek against his ankle, and the top of his foot, and looked back down in horror to confirm, yes, Vash was nuzzling his bare foot.

“But you don’t know any better!”

Options considered, Wolfwood went for the easiest one, which was to kick Vash in the shoulder with his other – thankfully still shoed-up – foot. Vash must have been expecting it, because Wolfwood barely made contact. He had already been rolling away, laughing like a madman.

“You’re insane,” Wolfwood muttered, getting up and, carefully, walking around Vash to try and find his missing shoe. It had flopped halfway under the bed and Wolfwood bent over to pick it up, before sitting down hard on the edge of the bed to pull it on.

His head was swimming a little. Maybe it was time to slow down on the whiskey.

Vash was doing foot things. It was absolutely time to slow down on the whiskey.

“You said if you didn’t have an empty stomach, you’d be able to think and help me.”

Still on the floor, Vash rolled onto his front, propping his chin on one of his hands to look up at Wolfwood. He looked like he was thinking about whether or not he’d said that, before he sighed.

“All right. You did let me get donuts and booze, plus I got in a pinch and taught you a lesson about your footwear. I guess I’m ready to be serious again.”

Vash saying that while laying, dishevelled and tipsy, on the floor, really was something. Wolfwood wasn’t sure exactly what, but something.

“The Plant.”

Vash nodded. “The Plant.”

“You think it did this. I think it did this. So, first of all, how, and second of all, how do we get it to put it right?”

It wasn’t the first time that Wolfwood had asked, really, but, for the first time, Vash looked up, his face surprisingly sober looking for someone who had drank quite a bit.

“I could just ask.”

Wolfwood was staring again. He felt like he was doing that a lot, with Vash, but there was something about him that was just constantly rendering him kind of speechless. That was a skill, maybe. He wondered if the other Wolfwood felt like this.

“What?”

It had come out a lot flatter than Wolfwood had expected. No bark in it. Maybe that was why Vash had fed him so much whiskey. Make him a little more docile.

“I could just ask,” Vash repeated, shrugging his shoulders before he pulled his impossibly long legs up and moved into a sitting position, still on the floor. “Maybe that’s what made this happen in the first place.”

Wolfwood took a breath.

“It has been... nearly an entire day of us trying to figure out how this happened, and you’re just now deciding to tell me that maybe that’s what made it happen? What the hell did you ask it?”

His voice had been, without his say-so, getting louder with every word and now Vash made shushing noises from the floor, shifting onto his knees to scoot closer.

Wolfwood firmly planted his feet on the floor.

“Technically, I didn’t ask!” Vash explained, still on his knees on the floor. “Wolfwood did. We were passing by the Plant, and, okay, I might have been being a lot yesterday, kind of like you were today—” Wolfwood pointedly did not bring up the fact that he had, today, been dealing with being in a different dimension, and being a lot seemed like something he was allowed to be, all things considered “—and Wolfwood said something like ‘I wish I could find a version of you that was less of a pain in my ass’ and then, bam.”

Vash slapped both hands down on Wolfwood’s knees, looking up at him.

“He was gone, and there you were. So, maybe the Plant was listening, and thought it was being helpful. They do that sometimes.”

Wolfwood took a breath.

That was so incredibly stupid that, really, it couldn’t be anything but the answer. He knew that the Plants tended to work by their own rules when it suited them. So, of course, when the other him had said that, and the Plant had been within earshot, and, presumably, bored...

It would add up.

They were related to Vash, after all. In a manner of speaking. That kind of thinking seemed like just the kind of thing he could expect. It was stupid, but it was simple, and Wolfwood really resented that it had taken an entire day and most of a bottle of whiskey to get them to this point.

“So, if we go back there...”

Vash nodded. Listening.

“...and you ask the Plant, you know, Plant to Plant—”

“—You can stop talking about me being a Plant—”

“—It might just decide to undo this little swap and put me and your Wolfwood back where we belong?”

His hands still on Wolfwood’s knees, Vash nodded again.

Wolfwood waited, the silence stretching between them for a few very, very long seconds.

“Okay, so when are we doing that, needle-noggin?!”

“Ohhh!”

Using the hands on Wolfwood’s knees, Vash boosted himself up into a standing position. Or, what would have been a standing position, if we wasn’t still bent at the waist, hands still on Wolfwood’s knees as he leaned in, grinning broadly.

To his credit, Wolfwood didn’t lean back, letting Vash get as close as he wanted.

“That’s why you were staring at me! Well,” Vash’s fingers squeezed his knees just once and then Vash did stand up, stretching his arms over his head and glancing out the window. The sun was going down, the sky outside lit up in bands of red, orange and yellow. “We should wait until nightfall. I don’t think it would be a good idea for us to just walk up to the Plant and start giving it requests while the engineers are going home for the day.”

Vash, unfortunately, had a good point. It didn’t matter how eager Wolfwood was to see if that was the solution to the problem; if the two of them wandered up and started chatting at the Plant, people were bound to ask questions. Leave alone the fact that it wasn’t the most normal thing to do, Vash, in his bright red coat, would draw attention. Add the two together, and that was a recipe for disaster.

Which meant that Vash proposed that they finish the bottle. It was good booze, and they shouldn’t let it go to waste. Wolfwood should have argued against it, because he needed to be clear-headed and as level as it was possible for him to be if this didn’t go the way he needed it to, but, somehow, by the time they left the room, the bottle was empty, sitting on the table with their equally empty glasses, and there was a pleasant hum in Wolfwood’s head.

Again, maybe this was Vash’s way of keeping him docile.

He was finding, more and more, that he didn’t mind.

Like this, it did feel a little more likely that everything would work out. Yeah, he’d been pretty sure already that the Plant was just granting requests, a distant relative feeling bad for the other Wolfwood having to deal with their weird cousin, or brother, or whatever Vash was to them, and giving him a break.

Thing was, as they walked through the darkened road, up towards the Plant, Wolfwood could admit to himself that there was no arguing this Vash had grown on him. He was an idiot, and he did foot things, and he could be infuriating, but he was still Vash. There was a core to him that was so much like the one that he’d left behind that it was hard not to feel something towards this one.

Like Vash had been reading his mind, he turned, giving Wolfwood a big smile.

There, again. Slight differences. Really damn slight.

“You excited to get back?”

Wolfwood raised an eyebrow. “You excited to have your Wolfwood back here?”

Without missing a beat, Vash answered, “yep. Think I might miss you, though. Think your Vash might miss my Wolfwood?”

The spike of annoyance Wolfwood felt at that must have been something Vash had been looking for. He whistled, low, shaking his head as he turned back around. The Plant was looming on the horizon, the clear outline of the tank obvious over the rooftops.

“You’ve got it bad, don’t you? Think your Vash might be itching to get you back, in that case.”

“What would you know about that?” Wolfwood snapped, doubling his strides to try and pass Vash. Instead of being let do it, Vash swooped in against his side, looping his arm through Wolfwood’s and keeping pace.

“I’d know a lot. I’m pretty itchy myself, but I’ve also been roundabouts where you two are now, and I know how to read a Wolfwood, fluffy variant or otherwise.”

It was the blatant way Vash said it that Wolfwood struggled with. He just knew, and for him, everything had worked out. He and his Wolfwood had something, whatever the hell it was, but he didn’t really know what their situation was, back where Wolfwood came from. There wasn’t time to be catering to the ache in his chest or the vaguely sick feeling in his stomach, the ones the vials could never touch.

They made the rest of the short trek up to the Plant in silence. Wolfwood wanted to know what Vash was thinking, but, instead of asking, it just seemed easier to walk. To walk and, this time, just let Vash have his way. He seemed absolutely thrilled that Wolfwood hadn’t pulled his arm away, and he didn’t drop it until they were standing in the deep shadows under the Plant tank, looking up at the thing.

It still looked like it was sleeping, but Wolfwood knew that didn’t mean anything. They were always listening.

That was what had gotten them into this whole mess in the first place.

“Wait here.”

Vash’s hand came up, squeezing at his shoulder, briefly, before Vash stepped away, moving until Wolfwood could barely see him. That was both different and the same as his Vash. His Vash hadn’t seemed very keen on showing exactly what he was or how he could communicate with the Plants, at first. When they’d caught him at it, unexpectedly, he had seemed shocked to see them seeing him. He’d bounced back quickly, though. Accepted that they knew and let it go. Mostly. He wasn’t flaunting his abilities all the time, and this one didn’t seem to, either.

He also seemed more like he was moving away out of some kind of courtesy to Wolfwood.

Was the other Wolfwood afraid of what Vash was? Examining that would take more time and focus than Wolfwood thought he had right now, but he supposed he could understand it. Deep down, even he was a little unsettled at what his Vash was capable of, of how old he was and how much he’d seen and would see. Maybe it was hard not to be a little off-put by that, but it didn’t make Wolfwood love him less.

The thought had flit through his mind, easy, rolling on the wave of the alcohol he’d had, and it took a second before Wolfwood realized it, with a little physical jolt. Maybe it was that movement that got Vash’s attention, or maybe not, but a few deep breaths later, Wolfwood realized Vash was walking back his way, smiling smugly.

So, their hypothesis must have been correct.

“Got you a ride.”

Pushing aside the mild panic he’d sent himself into, Wolfwood cleared his throat and looked up at the Plant. It looked like it had shifted, unfurled a little, and the light seemed different.

“Guess we don’t have long, then,” Wolfwood murmured, looking back at Vash. He’d moved closer. A lot closer. He really seemed to have issues with personal space. “Uh. Thanks for... the help.”

Vash waved a hand. “Aw, shucks. You don’t have to thank me. I’ll do anything for you, Wolfwood.”

He said it in such a light, easy tone, it would have been easy to write the whole thing off as part of whatever running joke this Vash had his life written with. But, because he was Vash, even if he wasn’t his Vash, Wolfwood heard the note of sincerity in there.

The damn booze had opened him up to a lot of damage he hadn’t known he was going to be taking, given by a Vash he never would have met if the other him hadn’t been making glib jabs.

He wondered if the other Wolfwood knew that, though. That this Vash would do anything for him.

Something in his gut was telling Wolfwood it worked the same way for his back home.

“Let the other me know his Punisher is puny, yeah?” Wolfwood said, rallying against letting the thoughts shouting in his head come out of his mouth. He just needed to get back.

“I won’t do that,” Vash laughed. Before Wolfwood could move, he stepped forward, closing the scant distance between them, both hands coming up. He’d done this so many times today, Wolfwood should have been ready for it, but instead of even taking a half-step back, he stayed put, letting Vash cup his face. Judging by the look on Vash’s face, he was pleasantly surprised.

But, maybe, not as surprised as Wolfwood would have expected.

“When you get back to your Vash,” he started, glancing up. The light around them was definitely changing. They really didn’t have long. “Just lay one of these on him. If he’s anything like me, and I think we’ve figured out we’re all more alike than you thought, he’s going insane waiting for you to hurry up and do it.”

Wolfwood had known what was coming, and he didn’t bother stepping back, or pulling out of Vash’s hands. He just closed his eyes, and let Vash lean in and kiss him.

It wasn’t anything intense. There wasn’t a push there. Vash was careful with him, sweet, his thumbs brushing over Wolfwood’s jaw before he let go, stepping back.

His smile looked different. More real, less of something meant to be a mask.

Right up until he put his hand on Wolfwood’s chest, extending his arm and stepping back, himself. His other hand flew to his forehead, and he looked away, theatrics dripping from him.

“Don’t chase me! You’ve got a Stampede of your own waiting for you at home!”

“I wasn’t gonna!” Wolfwood shot back, wanting to sound annoyed, but ending up in a smile.

Vash returned it.

“Safe travels, Wolfwood.”

Vash couldn’t have timed that line more perfectly. One second, Wolfwood was seeing him standing there, smiling and clearly waiting for the swap, the next he was stumbling backwards, tripping over his own feet and only barely keeping from falling over by grabbing on to the railing surrounding the platform he’d found himself on.

Above him, encased in its neat cylinder, a Plant seemed to be dimming, the glow filling the room going from a bright blue-white to something softer. Settling again after being in contact with its inter-dimensional other self. It looked right, looked like the kind of Plant he knew, and, straightening, Wolfwood understood what that meant.

The Plant facility in this backwater town wasn’t far from the inn where he and Vash had set up, the night before he’d been swapped. Heading for the stairs, Wolfwood took them almost too fast, slowing himself down only with the reminder that if he tripped, fell and broke his neck, the vials in his pocket weren’t going to do him much good.

He’d nearly made it to the ground floor when the main door flung open, and Vash ran in.

His Vash. Oversized red coat, jade beauty of an arm, big orange glasses, and those clunky boots. They skidded to a stop on the shiny floor just feet from the bottom of the stairs, Vash staring up at him with those big, pretty blue eyes while Wolfwood stared back down.

He was screwed. Oh, he really was so, so screwed. It was no wonder the other Vash had known it on sight, how the hell was he supposed to hide the feelings that were trying to claw their way out of his chest the moment Vash was standing in front of him?

Why did he even bother to try?

“Plants can do a lot more crazy shit than you’ve told me, needle-noggin.”

One of them had needed to break the staring contest, and Wolfwood was happy to be the one to do it. Just a few words, and he was able to move his legs again, walking the rest of the way down the last few stairs.

Vash laughed, moving again himself. There was a bit of colour in his cheeks, Wolfwood noticed, watching while Vash rolled his eyes. Was that from running here – he’d run here, he’d known to look for Wolfwood here – or was it something else?

“I’ve told you. I don’t know everything they can do.”

Wolfwood’s shoes landed on the floor, putting him right in front of Vash, and both of them stopped moving.

It had only been a day, and Wolfwood had been with a version of him, but his Vash... his Vash. He’d missed him. Missed the stupid smile Vash was giving him, now, and the way he wasn’t quite meeting his eyes, like he was shy, or something. Same thing that Wolfwood did, whenever they both became aware that the elephant had made itself known in the room and would like to be acknowledged.

When you get back to your Vash...

“Hey, Wolfwood,” Vash started, “can we talk?”

It was long past time to acknowledge the damn elephant. Wolfwood was tired of dancing around the damn thing, it was keeping him from something he wanted.

Bringing both hands up, Wolfwood cupped Vash’s face, not worrying that he was going to pull away, or that this was the wrong thing. He’d figured out a thing or two in the last day.

Vash’s hands found the front of his blazer, fingers twisting in the fabric, a second before Wolfwood leaned in, eyes closed, heart hammering.

He didn’t know why they’d been letting anything keep them from this. He kissed Vash, and Vash kissed him back, those hands on his blazer not letting him get away for a second, and everything settled.

Wolfwood didn’t push, and neither did Vash, but the way Wolfwood kissed him wasn’t anything that couldn’t be described as intense. After this long, it couldn’t be anything but, even if, still, he was careful. That didn’t seem to matter. Vash gave back as good as he got.

The ache in Wolfwood’s chest exploded, but that was all right. It felt kind of good.

Almost as good as Vash using the grip on his blazer to yank him backwards, breaking the kiss to glance over his shoulder at a door marked UTILITY CLOSET.

Wolfwood laughed, letting himself be pulled along, moving with Vash, not letting them get drawn apart. Not again.

“The inn’s just down the road!”

Looking back at him, Vash smirked.

Oh, that just poured gasoline on the fire. Wolfwood didn’t know he’d been needing Vash to look at him like that, but, oh boy, had he ever.

“You’ve made me wait long enough.”

...he’s going insane waiting for you to hurry up and do it...

There was something incredibly hot about the way Vash reached back, twisting the door handle and yanking it open with his prosthetic hand. If that door had been locked, it wasn’t now.

“We can go to the inn later.”

Turned out, the other Vash might have been dead on about a few things.

Wolfwood certainly had had a Stampede of his own waiting for him at home.