Washing our boy's hair. Just really wanna show him some care and love (Bet he'd love to do a selfcare routine together hehe) Gently massaging his scalp to relax him after a hard day
Also hope you will have a fun vacation Nova!! Enjoy yummy food and have a good rest
Ari, thank you so much for this!!! It came out a bit angstier than I intended, but hey, that's writing!!
The blood runs pink as you wash it away with water from the well.
It’s nearing sundown. Vash sits, numbly, by the mouth of the hole, watching you pull and tug each bucket of water up by the rope, sloshing over the edges. He’d offer to help, but you nearly bit what’s left of his right ear off when he suggested it.
“No moving! You’ve done enough of that,” you say. Your voice is warbly with tears, but you’re whole, thanks to the man before you.
So, Vash sits and waits and watches you pull up buckets and pour them over his head. His muscles ache, both from the fight and from tensing, telling himself to keep still. He wants to help so badly. But would helping hurt in this case?
Another wave of water runs down his hair and cheeks. This time, you take up one of your old shirts you’ve repurposed into a rag. You come around and face him, eyes darting to the cut above his brow, the scrapes along his jaw. They’re still bleeding, but not as severely. You start at his hairline. The dirt and sand are wiped away, revealing whole skin and battered bruising. You tut at this, but keep going.
“Mayfly,” he tries again, raising a hand to the rag.
You jerk it away before he can take hold. “Vash, please, let me do something.”
He does. With a sigh, he bows his head and lets you scrub at him. For the next half hour, as the cold winds of night blow in and you’re both shivering from the splashes of water on your clothes and his skin, you clean him of the debris leftover from the gunfight.
You lead him to the nearby ghost town and pick a building to hole up in. Your flashlight, pointed at the ceiling, illuminates the space well. Broken chairs, dusty couches, and best of all, no inhabitants.
Vash doesn’t let you check the bed. He lays on it first, feeling the springs through the mattress dig into his back. He winces, but at least nothing’s poking out. You sit right by his head and pat your lap. You’re offering to do his favorite thing.
Vash takes the bait. With a little grumbly-whine, he pulls you close and lays his head on your thighs. Your hands go to work right away. Combing through the blonde and black strands of hair, you quietly say, “Thank you for helping me today.”
“Don’t thank me,” he says, a sigh pulling out of his lungs, “it’s my fault you were even there in the first place.”
Gently, you tap his cheek. “No, we’ve been over this: I’m here of my own free will.”
“Shouldn’t be,” he mumbles, pushing his face into your stomach, “shouldn’t be a hundred miles near me.”
Instead of answering, you massage his scalp. Rolling circles into his skin, pulling softly at the strands of hair. Slowly, like that of a hurt animal realizing he’s safe in this foster home, Vash untenses his muscles. His hair is still damp and cold. Your hands warm his head, trailing from his head to his ear and jaw.
“You’re brave. And strong. And I love you,” you whisper.
His lips thin. Your hands go back to the top of his head and comb through his hair. His hands reach for something. Something to do, some way to help you. He leans into you more and reaches his arms around you, forcing your shirt up to let him trail his tired fingers along your spine. You stop for a moment, and he feels the goosebumps rise on your back, but then you continue.
“You’re mine. My Vash. My love.” There it is again, that little warble in your voice. “I love you.”
Vash feels his own tears build up. He closes his eyes quickly and wills them away. He opens them again when he feels your tear drops on his head. “Mayfly…”
“I don’t ever want to leave you, Vash. Please don’t ever make me.” You swallow thickly and give him the shakiest of smiles. “I love you.”
And there’s his moment. With one great heave, he pulls you down to him and kisses you.
Maybe it doesn’t help the guilt you or he feels. It’s a constant, gnawing thing. But for now, it helps both of your tears abate, and brings a solemn peace back to your world.
