There is a smell of hot wildflowers in the pale dome of his flesh shoulder. You press your nose to it and think of a field on fire, or fire coming to a field, red flowers turned redder in a dancing lick of flame.
He stills beside you, like he's trying to hide his breathing, trying to keep from spooking something wild. But you breathe him in unflinching, turning your face slowly so instead of your nose your cheek is against him next, then your ear, then back the other way, skin rolling softly against skin, until your lips claim the scarred expanse bared by the cut of his tight black top.
You want to show him that you aren't afraid, that he has nothing that could make you run. That you can gather him into your arms and fold him there like good clean linen, something to hold gently, to cherish.
Long fingers brush the back of your neck, trembling just a little. "Mayfly-"
You shush him, the fingers tensing then relaxing, like the wings of a butterfly against your nape, testing the air. You trace your lips up to his jaw, then brush against the corner of his nervous mouth.
"I love you, Vash."
"But-"
You swallow his protests, their floral taste dissolving against your mouth. Vash pants, looks down at you with wide eyes, honest eyes, eyes that tell you he doesn't know whether or not to run.
So you lean back, let go. Give him the opening, unpinned by anything except your stare, by the words you're repeating, low and even. "I love you."
He laughs breathlessly, his body still tense, thrumming, taut. He leans forward, then back. He looks away, at the wide blue sky. His metal hand cards through the stiff peaks of his hair, knocking them into angles that dip down toward his brow.
“I love you,” he says back, rolling the words like ice on his tongue so they come out half-melted. He powers down, almost, the nervous energy dissipating, the coil of his limbs loosening in the heat.
“I do. I love you,” he offers, again, and it hangs between you, shimmering like a mirage before you surge forward and shatter it, throwing your arms around his wide shoulders, feeling the meat and metal of his body, pressing him in until he can feel your heartbeat, the scattered points of your pulse beneath your neck, your wrists, your thigh. All his.
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#1 ) You show him that you love him by starting with small things.
♡ㅤNotesㅤ⁾⁾ㅤEnglish isn’t my first language, so I’m prone to making mistakes when I write. I do my best though, and I apologize if that makes for a less enjoyable read, however short my post may be. n_n I mainly write headcanons as well as spontaneous thoughts that I then develop into short scenarios. I don’t think I’m skilled enough yet to create long, elaborate fanfictions, so I prefer to stick to something simpler. Since my ideas come to me when I’m imagining comfort stories, they might not be very original. Thank you a lot for taking the time to read my work anyway, it’s really kind of you. <3ㅤ1998 VASH !! Works with Tristamp Vashㅤ,,ㅤGENDER NEUTRAL READER.
You’ve lost count of how many times Vash has avoided you. Every glance that was a little too tender, every gesture that betrayed your feelings seemed to push him further away. Yet it's not your affection he rejects, but himself. Who could truly desire a body as scarred as his ? The artificial coldness of his mechanical hand, the scars crisscrossing his skin, the metal grafted onto his limbs like mismatched patches of old fabric sewn together too many times. In his eyes, none of it deserves to be loved. So he pulls away, convinced that you deserve something better than him. And the weary angel that he is silently bears the guilt of not being able to offer you the paradise to which you seem to belong ...
However, even though he goes out of his way to keep you at a distance with his clumsy act, convinced that someone like you could never want him, you’re not the type to give up so easily ! With him, you have to know how to be patient. So you wait ... Because you’re not fooled. Because you see right through his game. From the very first moment your eyes met, you’ve been watching every one of his silences, every one of his dodges. You know that quiet sadness that dims the fragile sparkle in his eyes a little more each time you offer him a compliment he refuses to believe. You also notice that fleeting melancholy that cracks his smile when he thinks no one is watching. So if he accepts your words only to please you, without ever really letting them sink in, you’ll find another way to show him that you mean them.
As you cross the vast desert together, alone on the road leading to a new city, you absentmindedly let your fingers slide down to his iron-hard hand as if there were nothing unusual about this gesture. You tighten your grip slightly, just enough to make him understand that this contact is no accident, then you continue walking with feigned calm. Beside you, Vash freezes in a subtle way. His steps slow, and when he turns his eyes toward you, something in his expression wavers. He’s clearly searching for something to say, but the words remain stuck, trapped somewhere behind his silence. His hand doesn’t respond to yours, yet it doesn’t pull away either. He stands there, lost in his sudden confusion. A subtle flush colors his cheeks as his gaze, at first surprised, shyly avoids yours.
" D-Don't you want to hold my other hand ? "
" No, not really ... Why would that matter ? "
You carry on without saying a word, as if that simple gesture were enough to say it all. Yet, walking beside you, he feels something gently blossoming in his chest, fragile and disheveled like a bouquet. He tries to keep up with your pace, but the confusion you’ve stirred within him makes each of his steps a little less sure. This time, he doesn’t try to defuse the situation with an absurd joke or a clumsy remark. He simply lets you have your way. Eyes downcast, cheeks tinged with warmth, Vash unwittingly betrays what he dares not put into words. No one had ever taken his hand before, and certainly not this one. Even though he remains convinced he doesn’t deserve such a tender gesture, he can’t deny that he loves how it feels between you, however awkward it may be because of him. If he can’t feel your touch, he clings to it nonetheless with a timid tenderness. You walk on like this to the nearest town, the journey unfolding in that peace he so strongly advocates and which he is rediscovering with you. He loved it.
Pairing: Vash the Stampede x Reader
Summary: Vash stumbles back into your shared inn after a night of drinking, looking for your attention.
Content: fluff, a hint of angst, yearning, alcohol, non-consensual cuddling, vomiting
Word Count: 2.1k
A/N: I haven't written in forever and I kinda hate this but if I don't post it now, I think I never will sooo
The hallway is dimly lit, a flickering overhead light casting shadows along the peeling walls, and Vash’s boots clack loudly against the old floorboards as he unceremoniously stumbles down the corridor, his unsteady steps betraying the extent of how much he’s had to drink this evening. The sound echoes in the otherwise quiet building–an old, somewhat shabby inn at the edge of town. It’s a temporary haven, a place to rest before he’s inevitably on the move again, and though the room may not be much, it’s become a small comfort.
He reaches the door to the room he shares with you, fumbling in his pockets for the key. It slips from his grasp a couple of times before he manages to unlock the door, grumbling something under his breath as he pushes it open, stepping in and swinging it shut with a soft thud behind him.
“I’m back!” Vash calls out, his voice a little louder than he means it to be. He kicks off his boots and shoves them aside, his eyes scanning the room. The warm light from the lamp casts a soft glow, but something is missing. He frowns, his brows furrowing.
This isn’t right. Usually, you’re here, waiting for him, with that warm embrace and the gentle scolding that always follows his drunken returns. He may always be on the run, but having a person to come back to every night makes even the dingiest of hotels feel like home.
But tonight? The room is eerily quiet. Too quiet. No greeting. No teasing. No reassuring voice telling him everything is okay.
A small wave of disappointment washes over him. He’d been looking forward to it—you—even the usual sighs of exasperation and tired mutters about how late he’s come back, how terribly drunk he is. But now, the silence makes the space feel even more hollow.
Quite frankly, he’s missing the hug he was expecting to get, and maybe even the scolding a little bit.
“Mayfly? You here?” Vash calls out again, and his voice carries a note of concern that he can’t quite mask.
Did you not come back? Are you still out? Maybe you went out for something, or just stepped out for a walk. But the longer he stands there, the more the quiet of the room settles in, uneasiness gnawing at him.
His mind races, and finally, he drags himself across the room, and luckily his eyes fall on you, finding you curled up in one of the two beds. Relief floods through him, feeling the tension melt from his shoulders, hazy sapphire eyes tracing over your peaceful form. He's happy to see you sleeping. You shouldn't be staying up waiting for him, especially considering how late it is, but the sentiment is quickly followed by a slight twinge of frustration, as selfish as he knows that is. If you were awake, he’d be getting the attention he craves. Hugs, scolding, anything, really. But instead, you’re asleep like an angel, depriving him of all the attention he’s been longing for.
How rude. He had a whole list of annoying drunk antics he was going to put you through, and now he has to settle for watching you sleep? What a cruel, cruel fate for the Humanoid Typhoon.
His eyes linger on your face, soft in the light, every detail etched into his memory, as if he could never forget the way your features softened in sleep. His gaze mindlessly falls on how your lips part slightly, like a subtle invitation, and he swallows hard.
It wasn’t supposed to be like this. This wasn’t supposed to be something he could yearn for so deeply. You’re his friend, his closest companion, and yet, something about seeing you like this makes him want to reach out and hold you close and tell you things he’s never had the courage to say out loud, even when you’re wide awake and in front of him. But, of course, he doesn't. He just stands there, quietly aching, watching the gentle rise and fall of your chest, afraid that if he ever did cross that line, your inevitable goodbye would hurt far worse than any other pain that could etch his flesh.
He watches you, hesitating, unsure whether to poke your cheeks and wake you up just so that he can see that adorable, annoyed pout you do, or simply enjoy the sight a little longer, but the thought of being close to you, feeling the comfort of your presence, overpowers any rationality he usually has. He was expecting at least a hug when he got back, after all, and he's too far gone to think clearly.
With a quiet sigh, he sheds his coat, tossing it haphazardly onto the second, empty bed. He turns off the flickering lamp and lifts the blanket to slip beside you, careful not to disturb your peaceful slumber. He settles in behind you, curling around you with surprising tenderness and care for someone so drunk. As much as he loves the sound of your voice, your scolding might ruin his plans of snuggling up against you. His warm arm wraps around your middle, pulling you gently against him, and immediately the soft rise and fall of your chest calms him in a way all the alcohol from the night never could. The rhythmic softness of your breathing helps to clear his mind, like the haze from the booze is lifting, and he’s left with something more real, a warmth far greater than the feeling of whiskey burning his throat.
This is okay… isn't it? You two have cuddled a few times before. Albeit, it was more for preserving body heat out in the cold than it was for the mere closeness, but this room is awfully cold.
And he's plenty warm.
He can keep you warm.
His cheeks feel embarrassingly warm, that's for certain, and it's not just from all the booze. He tries to reassure himself, telling himself it’s fine. He’s just keeping you warm, but even his drunk brain knows that's not the whole truth.
He wants to be close to you, to hold onto this feeling, just a little longer. And so, with your steady breathing in his ear and the soft hum of the night surrounding him, Vash allows himself to relax. He's careful not to disturb you, but somehow, even in your sleep, you manage to snuggle closer, turning toward him, as if you're instinctively seeking him, or maybe you're just trying to warm up. Either way, he can’t help but smile at the way you nuzzle deeper into his chest, your face soft with sleep as his fingertips trace a delicate, absentminded pattern on your arm, each movement slower than the last, as if savoring the fleeting moment. He wonders if you realize just how much these small moments mean to him, how much he craves them. How, despite the teasing and the lighthearted distance he often keeps between you, this quiet closeness, this simple peace, feels like everything.
But the ache in his chest lingers, because even in this serenity, he knows things are more complicated than he lets on. How could they not be, when all he wants is to stay like this, knowing that tomorrow he’ll likely retreat into his usual joking demeanor, hiding everything that feels too fragile to say out loud?
Though before he can delve too much in the thought, you stir, and your voice, still heavy with sleep, breaks through the silence.
“Vash?”
He hums, his breath warm against your hair as he tightens his hold on you, like he’s anticipating you trying to pull away. “Mayfly~” he says in a cheerful sing-song tone that does little to hide the slurring of his words.
“Did you… pass out on me?” You mumble, half-dazed as you blink and try to focus your sleepy eyes, and seeing the tired look on your face brings a warmth to his cheeks that definitely isn’t from the alcohol.
“Sorry, I didn’t mean to, uh, take over your bed. Must've accidentally gotten into the wrong one,” he lies blatantly.
“Accidentally, huh?” You groan in response, but don’t pull away. “And what’s that smell? Did you bring the bar home with you?”
Oop. He might be in for a scolding after all.
“I may have had a few too many.” He replies, leaning his cheek on the top of your head.
“You say that every time,” you mumble. “You're not gonna throw up on me this time, right?”
Vash cringes. “Are you going to hold that against me forever, mayfly?”
“Yes.”
Fair, actually. He can’t really blame you for that one.
"You can scold me all you want later, but I just need a little more of this before you tell me off, okay?” He says. “Besides, you always end up forgiving me anyway.”
You pull the covers up a little higher, trying to ward off the chill of the evening. He wishes you’d snuggle up closer to him instead.
“I just worry about you, Vash,” you say, your tone softer than it was before. “Don't like it when you come back so late, or when you drink so much.”
Oh.
He doesn't want you to worry about him. He doesn't deserve that much, but knowing that you do… Well, that does something to his heart that he wasn't anticipating.
He's way too drunk for this right now.
“...Sorry,” he whispers, his arm carefully tugging you closer, holding you delicately like it's an apology, a way to somehow make up for the distress he causes you even when he's not around.
“Well,” you mutter again, but this time, there’s something more affectionate behind it. “You're lucky you're cute.”
"Mmh?" His voice is more awake now, and he's incredibly thankful that you can't see the way his cheeks flush in the dark. "Cute, huh? Tell me more, mayfly. What about handsome? Dashing, even?"
You crack one eye open, sending him a sleepy glare. "Enough, or I might really throw you out of this bed."
Vash groans in mock frustration. "Fine, fine, geez. You're no fun sometimes.”
“It's 2am, Vash. I don't usually have fun at 2am,” You quip back at him, and if the exasperation in your tone is anything to go by, he's starting to get under your skin, something he was looking forward to when he got back this evening.
“Closer to 3am, actually,” Vash corrects you very matter-of-factly, and he knows you don't appreciate his smartass tone by how you're suddenly pinching and pulling his cheek.
“Yowch!! Ow ow okay okay sorry!” He exclaims, pulling the soft skin of his cheek out from between your fingers. “How about breakfast? I’ll buy us both something in the morning to make up for all the trouble."
“It’s your turn to buy breakfast anyway, dummy,” you murmur, your eyelids fluttering closed again. "How about next time, maybe less bar and more... water."
"Deal. I’ll be on my best behaviour from now on," he says back, his voice softer now as he tucks his head against yours, keeping you nice and close.
You snort. “We'll see about that.”
Your presence wraps around him like a soft blanket, and for once, Vash lets himself sink into it completely. He can feel you against him, the steady comfort of being so close, and it feels like enough, knowing he does have someone waiting for him, wanting him to come back safe every night. The weight of the world, the uncertainty of the future, all seem distant now, and he can pretend things are simpler. Just for tonight, he can forget everything else and let the simplicity of this moment be his only reality.
Until a few minutes of silence pass between you two, and he suddenly feels his stomach churn… and the room spins a bit more than it should.
“M-May…fly,” Vash groans, his tone hoarse and pained.
Your head shoots up at that, no doubt recognizing that tone in his voice, taking in the funny look on your companion's face. He sees your eyes go wide, feels you suddenly try to pull away, but his arm stays firmly wrapped around you despite knowing he should really be letting go, using that superhuman strength to keep you there when he really shouldn't be.
Everyone likes having someone around when they're not feeling too good, after all.
“Vash. Vash, let go! No, please! Not on me! Not again please!!!”
Summary: Is it possible for plants and humans to procreate? (sequel to "No More Denial")
Word Count: 4000+
Warnings: angst, cursing, injuries, some medical terminology, female reader, slightly suggestive content, pregnancy, fluff, comfort, reassurance, crying, good ending
a/n: Not proofread. Oh my gosh, I was listening to “Sea of Love - Cat Power” and I got very emotional, especially writing that first part with Vash being so sweet. Anyway, hope you enjoy!
[Sequel] "No More Denial"
Main Masterlist
Coldness shivered up his spine, the tremouring causing the tiniest shuffle from her to get closer despite being already as close as could be.
The sky was dark, twinkling in a star-like light, but he wasn’t looking up, no. Vash was looking at Y/N, the restful look on her face bringing him peace. His bright blue eyes took in every detail of her, from the wisps of hair to her soft lips, that parted with a light exhale of air.
It was the middle of the night, most definitely, and everyone was asleep but Vash couldn’t find it in him to do so. His mind was occupied, focused on Y/N who laid on her back, head tucked against Vash’s chest with his flesh arm wrapped under her to keep her where she was.
Ever since Y/N confessed that she might be pregnant, he thought of nothing else. They weren’t completely sure due to their physiological differences, but Vash couldn’t deny the flutter in his chest at the mere idea of it. At first, he was scared because if plants and humans could have children, then what would that do to a human body? Vash and his brother did start out as babies themselves, but they grew exceptionally faster than any human so if that were the case would Y/N survive a pregnancy like that.
However, in the couple of days since he found out, the nervousness faded to give way to excitement.
He didn’t say it out loud, but it was in the way he looked at Y/N; eyes watching intently at every little thing. Not that he didn’t do those things already since he had never been in love before, it was simply different. He watched how Y/N would tuck her hair behind her ear when it had fallen in her face, or how she’d laugh, heartfelt and contagious, or how she’d speak so softly to him when whispering those three words he grew accustomed to. In all those actions, little behaviors, his mind wondered if his child would have quirks like that.
Feeling her shift again, Vash followed Y/N as she subconsciously readjusted herself into a more comfortable position, without leaving his chest.
He smiled, tightening his hold a bit, before relaxing his body. Eyes trailed down from Y/N’s undisturbed features to her stomach; looking the same, with no bump to show, though Vash felt himself tear up anyway. He carefully raised his prosthetic hand to lay his palm fully over the expanse of her tummy.
“I hope you’re there, little one.” The blonde barely whispered, gaze flitting up to Y/N to now see the slightest of smiles at the corner of her lips. Whether it was conscious or her body’s familiarity with his touch, a deep warmth washed over his body, and pooled in his chest.
He really wanted to be a father.
Ship 3 was in sight even from a handful of miles away.
When Vash told Wolfwood, Meryl and Roberto that they needed to visit Ludia and the others at Ship 3, they were confused because, turns out, they had not caught a word that Y/N had spoken to Knives when he confronted her.
So Vash and Y/N explained.
“You’re pregnant?!” Both Wolfwood and Meryl sputtered out in shock, while Roberto stared wide eyed.
He sighed shortly after, “I’m not drunk enough for this.”
“Well to preface, we’re not exactly sure.” Vash anxiously explained, rubbing the back of his neck.
Y/N, who sat at the floor of the truck, spoke up. “I have all the symptoms though; fatigue, nausea, headaches, and I haven’t had my monthly…ya know.”
“Ah, say no more.” Meryl blurted out, understanding what she meant.
“But Ludia, can tell us more. She’ll be able to see if Y/N is actually pregnant or not. And she’ll be able to treat Y/N’s leg better than I can out here.” Vash added, gesturing to the entire desert surrounding them.
There was a pause between them, each person giving themselves a moment to breathe as they thought about the situation.
“Has this ever happened before? Between a plant and a human?” Meryl questioned, curiosity coating her tone with a hint of worry.
Y/N and Vash shared a glance then Vash answered solemnly, regretting that he didn’t have all the answers. “As far as I know, no. This has never happened before.”
“Then let’s get going. Can’t have a pregnant lady sitting out in the hot sun with a bloody leg.” Wolfwood chirped in, smirking with a cigarette in his mouth.
The group gave a small laugh, breaking the tension before they hit the road.
That was, now, three days ago, and they had finally arrived.
Vash walked to the front, being the first one to walk up to the enormous ship with Y/N cradled in his arms.
“Vash, you don’t have to carry me. I can walk.” Y/N protested, though made no attempt to stop him.
He grinned down at her with that award winning smile, “But this way, you won’t hurt your leg anymore and make it worse. Besides, I never heard any complaints about being held.”
Y/N bit her bottom lip, stuffing her face into his chest, feeling her face beam with embarrassment. Vash simply laughed.
“Get a room you two.” Meryl grumbled, trailing behind them.
“I’m pretty sure that’s exactly how we ended up in this situation.” Wolfwood retorted, puffing out a plume of smoke.
Meryl cringed at the comment, “Ew, shut up.”
Roberto reached into his jacket to pull out his flask then took a drink.
Once they stepped inside, the five of them were first met with Ludia, who smiled the moment she saw the blonde.
“Vash! It’s good to see you again.” Ludia happily greeted, walking over to them but quickly noticed not only Y/N being carried by Vash, but her bandaged leg. “Is everything alright?”
“Everything’s fine, we just ran into a bit of trouble a few days ago.” Vash casually explained, trying not to think too much about what happened.
Ludia spared a look to Y/N then the others behind them, seeing the exhaustion on all of their faces and when she look back to Vash, she could see he was as tired, maybe even more so. She expected nothing less from him.
She tenderly smiled, “Well, let’s take her to the medical bay and fix up her leg. And we can get some food for the rest of you.”
“Yes please.” Meryl squeaked out, pressing her hands together in a prayer-like motion.
Ludia gestured down the hallway behind her, and they once again followed her. Along the way to the med bay, Bradd turned up. As soon as he saw Vash, he sighed, “What is it this time? Don’t tell me you wreck your arm again.”
Vash laughed at that, “Ha! Oh come on, give me some credit. It’s not like I go looking for trouble.”
“Yet it finds you all the same.” Bradd retorted, walking with them.
“Hey Bradd, I’m going to take Vash and Y/N to the medical wing, can you take the others to go get some food?” Ludia suggested, glancing over her shoulder.
Bradd shoved a hand into his pocket and relented. “I suppose. Come on, now.”
“Finally..” Wolfwood muttered out rather loudly causing Meryl to punch him in the side. “Hey!”
“Don’t be so rude!” Meryl lectured him.
“Will you two stop it?” Roberto interjected while the two of them began to bicker back and forth.
It was then that they turned down another path with Bradd as Ludia led Vash and Y/N down the same hall. Eventually, the three came across a metal door with a plus sign over the door, along with the words “Medical Bay” over the top. Ludia scanned her palm on the glowing panel beside the door and it opened.
“Go ahead and set her on the table, I’ll grab the sutures and needle.” Ludia instructed, stepping to the side, opening a drawer to look through its contents.
Vash did as Ludia asked, and carefully set Y/N down, maneuvering her in such a way as not to irritate her wound. Once Ludia found what she was looking for, she got to work. The task of disinfecting the multiple cuts around Y/N’s calf was grueling, albeit painful. As soon as the wet gauze made contact with the damaged skin, Y/N let out a hiss of discomfort, causing Ludia to utter out a quick apology.
It took several minutes, cleaning the dried blood, and sterilizing the injury itself taking up a good chunk of time. However, when it came down to the actual stitching of the wound, it went much quicker.
On the last stitch, Ludia finally spoke up, slightly startling the two. “So Vash, you want to tell me what else is going on.”
Vash perked up, surprised. “Oh! I should've guessed you’d be able to tell, Ludia. Actually, there is another reason we came here.”
He paused waiting for Ludia to respond, all she did was hummed, signaling for him to continue while she wrapped a clean bandage around Y/N’s leg.
Suddenly, Vash felt himself grow embarrassed, face glowing a bright red. “Well you see, I uh…m-me and Y/N were uh..together and we…” He trailed off, giving Ludia space to speak.
“‘Together’ how?”
“Romantically.” Y/N cut in, after seeing Vash struggle getting the words out. Though she didn’t blame him, she was feeling a bit sheepish too. Ludia acted as a guardian for Vash for decades so talking about this kind of stuff almost felt like telling your parents about a crush or when your partner meets your family for the first time.
Awkward.
The older woman tilted her head up in a slow nod while at the same time raising a brow in confusion.
Vash took a deep breath, steadying his nerves for what he was about to divulge. “Okay, to cut straight to the point; there’s a possibility that Y/N might be…pregnant.”
“Pregnant?” Ludia gawked, eyes wide and mouth slightly agape.
Vash nodded, “Yeah. But I wanted to ask you to confirm that’s what’s going on because I’m not sure how possible it is for a human and plant to have children.”
“Me neither.” Ludia admitted without thinking.
She then watched Y/N frown, anxiety written all over her face, and Vash’s flesh arm wrapped around her shoulder to gently squeeze the space there to silently comfort her.
“But! Just because I don’t know doesn’t mean it’s not possible.” Ludia quickly corrected, “I can run some tests, confirm if Y/N is indeed pregnant and figure out if you two are compatible. For that I’ll need blood samples from both of you.”
“Of course.” Y/N agreed, reaching up to place her hand over Vash’s that sat on her shoulder.
“Thank you, Ludia.” Vash expressed, voice gentle and full of gratitude.
Ludia provided a tender smile, “No need to thank me, Vash. You know that whatever you need, you can just ask.”
From there, Y/N and Vash sat patiently, watching as Ludia gathered the supplies necessary for the blood samples. First, she turned to Y/N, asking her to hold her arm out while pulling out a small vial with a cap on the end of it, to protect the needle. Y/N did as she asked, raising her arm after pulling up her sleeve and watched as Ludia tied a rubber band around her bicep, wiped the area at the crevice of her arm then methodically pushed the needle into a vein. Immediately, blood began to seep into the tiny vial filling it up in only a minute or two.
Once done, she wiped off the area of the vein again then placed a band-aid over it.
Ludia repeated this procedure with Vash; taking out a fresh vial and collecting a sample of blood from him.
“There. All done.” the older woman stated, cleaning down the area and setting the samples aside. “Now, it’ll take a while to composite the results, but in the meantime I suggest you two get something to eat.”
“I appreciate this.” Vash expressed again.
Ludia shook her head, “It’s no problem at all.” She finally looked to Y/N, sensing the worry coming off her, “I know this might not make you feel better, but try not to worry. We have the technology to help you, no matter what’s going on and I promise we’ll help you.”
Y/N hesitantly nodded, giving a tight smile in return. “Thank you.”
Without much ceremony, Ludia took the samples and headed out of the medical bay, leaving Vash and Y/N alone.
Vash walked from Y/N’s side to stand fully in front of her. “How are you doing?”
Y/N shrugged thoughtfully, “I’m not sure. I guess I just don’t know what to think about all this.”
“What do you mean?” Vash gently probed, though prepared himself for the outcome that Y/N might not want to talk about it any further.
Y/N began to twiddle her fingers, chewing on her bottom lip, a nervous tick she always demonstrated when she felt overwhelmed. “I…uh..This is all so different than anything I’ve ever been through and we don’t even know if-”
She trailed off, falling into thought again. Her gaze drifted to the steel gray floor, eyes absentmindedly following every scuff and speck of dirt that laid across the material. “If I’m really pregnant.”
It was then that Vash saw it, clear as day; the yearning in her eyes. In his long life, Vash has seen many people, of all different lives and hardships, but one thing he’s seen that has remained constant; the paternal love and care of a mother. He didn’t know his birth mother per say but he knew some semblance of a mother’s care from Rem. She went above and beyond for him and his brother, and as he got used to life on No Man’s Land, he witnessed that kind of maternity still existed.
Vash also realized that he hadn’t asked or given much thought about how Y/N viewed being a mother, but now, her expression seemed to answer that on its own.
Still though, she was understandably worried and he wanted her to feel better.
“There’s something I’d like to show you, if that’s okay.” Vash abruptly suggested.
Y/N’s expression morphed into one of surprise then mellowed to acceptance, if perhaps a little confused. “Uh..sure. That’d be fine.”
“But we have to walk, soooo if you don’t mind, Mayfly?” Vash teased, extending his arms out, insinuating that he was going to carry her again.
She couldn’t help but let way to a grin as she leaned forward, wrapping her arms around Vash’s neck. With ease, Vash slid his arms under Y/N’s legs and torso and pulled her to rest her cheek against his chest. He exited the medical bay and turned right as he walked out.
It took a few minutes, Vash getting flustered on the way there when he looked down to Y/N staring up at him and her admitting she was admiring him, but eventually they made it. Two giant steel doors slid back, and opened up, revealing the flourishing greenery housed under the glass dome.
Y/N had seen the greenhouse once before, but she hadn’t had the time to admire it as they had been in a hurry to leave. However, seeing it now without the rush, Y/N felt the tingling of excitement, a delightful shock that stirred butterflies in her stomach.
She observed all around, taking note of all the lush plants, what they were taught were called trees and flowers. If there was one place on this planet she would call paradise, it’d be this place, next to being in Vash’s arms that is.
Vash walked forward until the path split four ways, he turned slightly left, walking a few more feet and finally eased himself onto his knees near the patch of blue flowers. He lowered Y/N softly to the ground then sat down beside her, shoulders touching from sitting so close together.
“Beautiful isn’t it?” Vash breathed wistfully, admiring the flora around them.
Y/N hummed, “It is.”
There was a beat of silence, then two, then three until…“When I was growing up here, the last couple of decades at least, I’d come here when there was a lot on my mind and I couldn’t get anything straight.”
Y/N spared him a glance, watching his tender gaze trace over each flower.
He continued, “This place helped me to calm down, come back to myself and simply air out what I was thinking without any pressure.”
Vash reached over, using his flesh hand to carefully caress at one of the petals while in thought. “And I thought that this would be the perfect place to talk. Just you and me.”
“Talk about what?” Y/N asked curiously.
Vash finally looked at her, eyes full of unadulterated love and affection; the same way he always looked at her. “About having children together.”
Despite the day's events, Y/N sat frozen, side-lined by the sudden topic of discussion even though she had no reason to be surprised. Perhaps it was the abrupt way Vash was bringing it up or maybe it was because she hadn’t mentally prepared herself for the conversation at all.
Either way, it was happening now.
“I just realized that we never really talked about it and I thought we should talk about it now while we wait!” Vash spluttered out, his prosthetic hand coming up to rub the back of his neck bashfully.
A heat ran up into his neck and surfacing his face, painting his cheeks and his ears red.
He took a breath to settle his heart beat, “I think it’s time that I confess my feelings about the whole situation. And let me start out by saying, I absolutely want to have children with you, my love.”
“Seriously?” Y/N gawked, slack jawed and shocked.
Vash nodded confidently. “When you first told me that you might be pregnant, admittedly, I was scared. Scared because plants grow fast, and I have no idea what might happen to you; scared because I don’t know if I’ll even be a good father, never had one so I have nothing to compare to…”
He paused, flopping his hands into his lap, lost in thought for a moment. All the while, Y/N watched him intently, waiting in anticipation for him to continue.
“But I’ve been in love before either, and that’s been the best experience of my life so far. So if it’s you and me…” Vash reaches toward Y/N, grasping her hand into his own and intertwining their fingers together, savoring the radiating warmth from her skin touching his. “Then I believe that we can do anything as long as we’re together.”
Instantly, Y/N felt her heart skip a beat, a fluttering originating from her stomach then rising to her chest in a flurry of affection. She gave Vash’s hand a loving squeeze, shortly lying her other hand on top.
“Vash, I want to have children with you too. More than anything and while I am nervous, I want this.”
Vash sighed in relief, now realizing he had been holding his breath. “I’m glad to hear you say that.”
Y/N smiled, leaning her head on his shoulder. “You’re right too, if we have each other, we can do or get through anything. We’ve gotten this far afterall.”
Vash leaned down, planting a kiss to her hair before resting his head on top of hers. “And then some.”
She hummed in agreement, taking a deep breath then heavily sighing, feeling her tightly wound nerves begin to relax under his touch.
The couple sat there for a good long while, silently, basking in the languid atmosphere created by their warm bodies and whispering sweet nothings here and there to fluster each other. Overall, it was a fifty-fifty success rate.
Though eventually, the huge metal doors opened and there they both spotted Ludia walking towards them.
For a moment, their comfort waned into a little unease.
At first, her expression seemed pensive, attempting to hold back whatever terrible string of sentences she was about to utter.
“I got the results back.” She spoke subtly.
Vash gulped fearfully, “And?”
Suddenly, she broke out in a grin, beaming with elation. “It seems that you two are compatible, more than compatible; it’s not like anything I’ve ever seen.”
Vash and Y/N traded glances, eyes wide and urgent. “Does this mean-?” Their eyes snapped back up to the older woman.
Ludia nodded, "Congratulations, Y/N. You are indeed pregnant.”
Vash and Y/N looked down to one another once more, simply staring, completely dumbfounded before erupting in the widest grins they could muster, and tearful laughs.
“I can’t believe it!” Y/N exclaimed, hugging Vash tightly, one hand cupping the back of his neck.
“I can’t either!” Vash laughed, a stream of tears already falling down his face as he snugly hugged her back. “We’re having a baby.”
Y/N began to sob, closing her eyes and sinking into Vash completely, into her home. “Thank you, Vash.”
Vash whimpered, hearing her grateful cry, “No, thank you, Mayfly.”
Been thinking about tender moments with kinda ‘more than friendly travelling partner’ relationship with Vash, but it’s all still unspoken, careful, hanging by a loose thread between you, laced with teasing and humour.
You should move. Your bedroll’s laid out on the other side of the firepit. So is his. The night’s cooling fast, desert air biting through layers of clothing the moment you step away from the flame.
But you stay where you are. Next to him, tucked securely under his arm.
And he doesn’t let go.
Eventually, you tilt your head up just enough to speak. Quiet. Testing the waters.
“Hey, Vash?”
He hums in response, already sounding drowsy. His thumb strokes a lazy circle against your shoulder.
You hesitate - but only for a second.
“…Do you think, maybe, we could share a bedroll tonight?”
You feel him go still again. Just for a breath. Then:
“…For warmth, right?” His voice is light, teasing. But you can hear the nervous undertone in it as well.
You smile into his chest. “Obviously. Strictly survival-based.”
“Right. Of course.” His hand shifts on your back, gentle but a little unsure. “Because that’s what this is. Basic heat conservation protocol.”
“Exactly.” You’re grinning now, even though your face is hot.
He lets out a quiet laugh, a soft little puff of air against your hair. “We’d be foolish not to, really. Irresponsible.”
“Negligent, even.”
You feel him turn, just slightly—enough that he can look at you properly. There’s a glimmer in his eyes now, still sleepy but brighter. Like he can’t quite believe this is real.
“You sure?” he asks, lower this time. Honest. Nervous again.
You nod. “Yeah. I’m sure.”
He hesitates… then slowly, reluctantly, starts to untangle from you, mumbling “I’ll grab it, then…uh…mine’s thicker, so we can use that one on the bottom…”
You catch his sleeve before he gets far. “Can we just… stay like this for a bit more? I mean - if it’s not uncomfortable.”
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Hes so stupid and I love him and I need to kiss his dumb face!
You speak only truth, anon
↓ Under the cut ↓
B = Body (what is their favourite part of their partner's body?)
The waist and tummy area, because it's where he holds you and picks you up the most. When you're cuddling, he sometimes likes to pull up your shirt just to give your tummy kisses (or raspberries because he's a silly goober).
E = Emotions (how do they express emotion around their partner?)
It takes him awhile to show his real emotions around you, but when he does, he gets so much softer. While he does remain goofy, he expresses his love more often with soft sighs and gazing lovingly at you.
K = Kisses (how do they like to kiss?)
He always makes a point to kiss purposefully and appreciatively. He rarely ever does a little peck, because he wants you to know how much he loves you and he just can't resist the feeling of your lips on his. His kisses are a bare minimum of 2 seconds.
L = Love Confession (how do they confess?)
As much as I'd love to fantasize about him blabbering about his feelings for you, I don't think he'd ever confess. He'd be so scared that he's not enough or too much for you, convinced that you deserve better. HOWEVER, if you confess, he'll basically be interrupting you with "I-I LIKE YOU TOO!!!" so relieved that you said it first.
P = Pet Names (what do they like to call their partner?)
All entirely food-based names. Sweetie pie, honey bunny, cupcake, etc.
☽ notes ⋮ i don’t even think this has anything to do with the ask anymore LMAO i got carried away but here <3
“nico, get your grimy fingers off my share,” you huff, shoving nicholas’s fingers away from the last few bites of your lunch.
food is scarce these days—more so than usual, and you don’t even try to hide your hunger when you finally find a place to grab a bite. vash eyes you as your lips are curled into a soft frown, the crinkle of your brows making his throat dry—because you’re cute, even with a look of pure irritation on your face, you’re soft and angelic and you make his heart skip a beat.
“c’mon, give me a bite or two,” nicholas chuckles, sneaking his way back to reach for your share of food, “you try carrying that big ol’ cross around all day.”
this time, you slap his hand away, huffing as you shift closer to vash to put extra distance between you and nicholas. vash has to keep himself from leaning in when he feels the warmth of your body radiate against him at the proximity.
“oh, you’re such a jackass, y’know?” you grumble, rolling your eyes at the easy chuckle nicholas gives you. but vash can see it—the beginnings of a smile you try (and fail) to fight back as you shake your head. “you’re the one who insists on carrying such a flashy weapon.”
“well it saved your pretty little head a few times didn’t it?” he shoots back. nicholas is easy to talk to like that, banter filling the air between you as you dance around each other with petty taunts and sly grins and stolen touches through pokes to the forehead.
vash thinks the only time he’s ever touched you is to pull you away from danger. in fact, he thinks it’d be easier to fight off an entire city after him than pluck the courage to reach out and flick your forehead the way nicholas does. it’s so smooth, so simple, so natural—and he can from tell the way your eyes soften for nicholas that it must be love.
he glances down at his food, feels his appetite dwindle and his chest tighten, and soon enough there’s an extra share of food pressed to your hand as he stands up.
“i’m not hungry,” he smiles softly, “you have it.”
you blink for a moment before opening your mouth to protest. “but vash—”
he’s off before you can finish talking, climbing into the van and closing the door while everyone stares after his figure and blinks. you frown, looking back at nicholas who only grins wider, holding a hand out for the half eaten dinner in your hold.
“well, don’t be greedy. share the goods,” he insists.
you roll your eyes, pulling away from his outstretched hand as you glare at him.
“something’s wrong,” you announce. meryl and roberto share a look, glancing quickly between you and nicholas again before continuing eating, making your brows furrow. “you guys know, don’t you?”
“everyone does, sweet cheeks,” nicholas chuckles, shaking his head, “you’re a bit more oblivious than i thought.”
“and what’s that supposed to mean?” you glare, but he only eyes you with amusement, turning back to finish the last few bites of his dinner before standing up and walking off, mumbling about needing a smoke under his breath.
you stare back at the van, unsure whether or not you’re supposed to go after vash—whether or not he even wants you there. it takes you a few moments of contemplation before you ultimately stand up, earning a look from meryl and a sigh from roberto.
“i’m gonna go after him,” you announce.
it doesn’t take long to walk up to the van and climb in, finding vash sitting slouched on his side of the back seat, looking out the window. he almost looks…defeated—it’s a type of vash you don’t think you’ve ever really seen.
“vash?” you ask softly, making him tense for a moment before he glances at you, offering a poor attempt of a reassuring smile.
you don’t think vash has ever successfully hidden an emotion ever in his life. for as long as you’ve known him—though it’s not been that long—he’s worn his heart on his sleeve and his emotions bared before you whether he means to or not. you sit down beside him, staring at your lap as he stares out the window again.
“hey,” he says quietly, “why aren’t you with everyone else?”
“why aren’t you?” you counter gently.
“ah, well,” he chuckles nervously, painfully aware of how close your knees are from brushing, “just wanted to sit. and think, i guess,” he says quietly.
“about what?”
“just stuff,” he mumbles.
he doesn’t want to tell you he thinks about how he must be in love with you, doesn’t want to admit as much when you’ve clearly got someone else in your heart. vash has never fallen in love—but he thinks if he’d have to give the feeling a label, it’d be you.
he thinks it has to be love when the first pair of eyes he searches for are yours, making sure you’re okay before he even thinks about checking on anyone else. what else could it be besides love when even if for a split second, the very thought of you being in danger makes his gun leave its holster and ready to aim. if not love, he’s not sure what else it could be when he’s so nervous around you, he feels words stick to his throat like he’s choking.
vash has never fallen in love before, but there’s no mistaking this feeling now that it hits him.
you’re kind—maybe a bit more than you should be to him since he does nothing but drag you into danger. the rational part of him wishes you’d stop coming with him wherever he goes, it hopes you’ll see you have so much to live for outside of cleaning up his messes. the more desperate part of him feels nauseous at the idea of you going your separate ways—he can protect you, can’t he? the desert is a dangerous place with or without him and if you’re in danger one way or another, you should stick by his side where he can keep an eye on you.
no, vash has never been in love—but he’s sure as hell seen it happen before his own two eyes in the many, many years he’s lived.
and he knows you’re in love with nicholas with one painful glance.
“c’mon vash,” you nudge his shoulder with your own, “we’re friends, i know you better than that. something’s wrong. are you upset about what those people in that last town said to you? because i’ll march right up to them and give them hell and back if—”
friends.
he’s tuned you out, too hyper focused on that awful burning sensation pooling in his chest, the one that hits him as soon as you use that cruel word. of course vash is just your friend, why wouldn’t he be? he can’t remember the last time someone actually wanted him around at all let alone as something more.
he doesn’t even notice your hand reaching for his until it lays over his fist, gently unclamping it from the fabric of his coat. he doesn’t even notice he’s been fisting it this whole time, doesn’t even notice his shoulders are tense until you lean your head on it.
“you don’t have to tell me,” you murmur gently, “i’ll wait here with you.”
“why?” he can’t help but ask, can’t help but wonder why you care to spend your time here when you could be there. with nicholas. without him.
“because i care about you.” you say it like it’s obvious, like he should already know that.
perhaps he does—you do care about him, he can see it with the way you help clean his wounds and scold him for being reckless…just maybe not in the way he wishes you would.
“are you ever going to tell nicholas how you feel?” he asks.
you sit up, shock on your face and a crease in your brows as you stare at him in bewilderment. he almost thinks he’s asked something out of line, something he should apologize for. but before he can offer you a stuttered apology, you beat him to it.
“what?” you chuckle. “do i look like i feel something for nicholas?”
“you don’t?” he sounds shocked, making you blink.
“no,” you shake your head, grimacing like the idea is an unpleasant one. “he’s a nuisance i tolerate at best.”
“oh,” is all he says, surprised. it’s silent for a moment before he hesitantly asks, “is…is there someone?”
he doesn’t want to know the answer either way. yes means the pain of knowing there’s someone else he has to let you go to. no means it’s not him even with no one else to compete with at all. but he figures whether your answer is yes or no, it’s enough to force him to let go.
“well…” you hesitate for a moment, inhaling before letting out a shaky breath and slumping back to his shoulder, “can i be honest?”
“of course,” he says instantly.
“i don’t know how you’ll take it,” you admit quietly, and he can hear the slight shakiness in your voice—like you’re nervous, like what you’re about to say will change everything.
but vash knows no matter what you’ll say, no matter what you’ll ever do, he’ll still keep loving you even if you don’t need him to.
“is it embarrassing?”
“no,” you shake your head, “well, maybe a little. depends on how you react. i might look stupid.”
“can’t be worse than running out of bullets,” he smiles softly, “i bet i looked pretty stupid then.”
“a little,” you admit, giggling. and then you both laugh softly, your cheek against his shoulder and your hand gently clasped over his. distantly, you can hear nicholas ask where you are—and you know it’s not long before you’ll lose this rare moment alone. so you take a deep breath, stare at your hand over his as you mumble, “i think i love you. a little. actually, that’s a lie—a lot. like, a whole lot.”
he blinks.
he feels his breath hitch and your shoulders tense and his heart race all at once. for a second he thinks he might’ve heard you wrong—but then you whisper how you understand if he doesn’t feel the same way, how it’s okay, really! you understand, it’s not his fault and you can still be friends because you’re fine with friends. just as long as he’s still in your life because he’s important to you and friends is better than nothing at all.
and then he cuts you off with a soft chuckle, making you pause and glance up at him with doubt on your face.
“can i be honest too?” he smiles gently, melting your heart even as it shatters just a little in your chest.
“of course,” you whisper.
“i love you too. not a little though. a lot. i thought you had a thing for nicholas, though—”
“nico is rude and smells like smoke. i wouldn’t kiss him if my life depended on it,” you interrupt with a crinkle of your nose, making him chuckle with bright eyes and love scribbled over the curves of his features.
he leans in, presses his forehead to yours and closes his eyes when your hand cups a cheek gently.
“good,” he murmurs, “but don’t worry, i’ll keep you safe. your life will never depend on kissing him.”
“good,” you hum, “because i only want to kiss you.”
and then you do, slow and sweet and so in love. it’s his first kiss—he doesn’t really know what to do, but he follows your lead and learns fast, soft lips molding with yours and mingling your warm breath with his. vash doesn’t even care he’s gone this long without feeling something as gentle as being in love. he’s in love now, with you—and he’s glad you love him too and not nicholas wolfwood, the man who keeps trying to steal dinner from under your nose.
“are you two done in there already?” nicholas is pounding on the door, making you pull away with a sour look on your face. “we got places to be. better not be baby making where i’m about to sleep.”
“can’t you make one exception and kill him?” you whine, making vash chuckle before he leans to kiss you again, more chaste this time. and again, and again.
vash has never fallen in love—and he’s sure it’s because he was meant to wait this long to fall in love with you.
♡ Warnings - mentions of having future children at the end
♡ Description: A drabble of various touches between you and Vash the Stampede as your relationship grows.
Part of the 150 Bullets drabble series on AO3 (separated into different chapters, as indicated in brackets)
Hands (056. Turn)
Neither of you are very touchy people.
Vash because he has to be careful.
You because you’ve never liked it.
It suits you both fine; neither of you signed on to the job to be touchy.
The boss wants a survey of a nearby gulch and valley. Hopes to find some good land for investment – water or oil or to build some new town with his name. You, the cartographer for the job. Vash, one of your hired bodyguards. The other two men look the part – grizzled, tough. Mercs. Vash stands out with his frame, the bold red coat. Still a merc, but he looks at you kindly, and you take to him as only a nervous scholar can. Some kind of comfort, if only in your head.
You shake the bodyguards’ hands. Vash’s is warm and a little clammy. You turn and do your best to not stare at the old-tech arm at his side. How curious, still.
/~*~\
Arms (053. Emporium)
The town square is full of life.
The other two mercs have gone off elsewhere to find booze or girls or bullets. Vash weaves on ahead. Always light on his feet, careful to dodge stray hands and still looking at everything with a smile. He’s careful to keep you in the corner of his eye. He loves this. He loves people. He’s in his element – one of them, anyway.
You, little scholar, are not. The crowds push in on the emporium – marketeers hocking their wares and greedy eyes follow your steps. You keep one hand on your purse. All walks of life brush past, children running around, toma pulling carts and calling out. Something lets out a boom, and there’s cheering down the street. Colored smoke rises from a stall with a dizzying aroma. It’s overwhelming, it’s more than you’re used to.
“Vash!” You call out. He doesn’t hear you.
Quiet halls with old paper and ink. The shuffle of pages, someone reading their research under their breath. Old tech flickering to life with a hum. Echoed rooms and soft music playing. That’s where you belong. That’s your safe space. Your element is so far away in this press.
A group of women pass between you and Vash. You lose sight of him. It’s jarring, how used to that red you’ve become, looking at it for some sort of comfort. He’s further ahead now, looking at a stall selling old tech baubles. You reach for him, that beacon of red, catching the crook of his arm and weaving your own through before you can think, before you can lose him again. He stills and looks down at you. Your jaw sets, your cheeks flush with embarrassment. You glance up, and ask with a look, Is this okay? Please let it be okay.
And he thinks for a moment. His heart warms. Squeezing your arm with his own, he pulls you closer to his side as you both step back into the throng. Yeah, it’s okay.
/~*~\
Feet (033. Trampoline)
Five months into knowing Vash, and you’re at his heels more than you ever were at your mother’s. Mostly to keep him out of trouble, but still.
The backs of his heels meet the sky more times than any grown man’s should. Summersaulting through the air to escape bullets, grabbing hands, the loss of freedom. You dog at him the entire time, your own feet pounding, pounding, pounding to keep up.
Vash meets the edge of a building, and he cries out, arms pinwheeling to keep him up. You lunge, snagging his ankles as he pitches forward. His weight pulls you, and you both fall. Luckily – as Vash’s luck often goes, metronoming from one extreme to the other – you land on a market stall’s tarped ceiling, bouncing once, twice, a makeshift trampoline. Now both of your feet are reaching for the sky.
Vash’s breath comes in and out like bellows. Yours isn’t better. In the distance, you hear shouts, screams, cries from the mob trying to hunt down the Humanoid Typhoon. You know you need to move. The stall owner is peering up at you strangely from beneath his tarp.
Still, Vash finds the time to look over at you and say, “You shouldn’t have done this.” ‘This’ meaning follow him, of course. A tired argument at this point, like he can’t get enough of saying it.
And you, you know you shouldn’t have. You have no business following an outlaw like him. Scholars stay hidden in their nooks and crannies and don’t do things like jump from building-to-building chasing after that waving red flag. You should focus on being a librarian, hand out books to word-starved children, build the world into a better place. Be who you should be.
You look back at him, a moment of stillness settling in your bones. “And let you have all the fun?” You shake your head. “No.”
A spark of something in his eyes. Clarity? Realization? He won’t tell you to this day, but his lips quirk up, and he drags you off the tarp and down to the ground. You both race off, leaving the bewildered shop keep staring after your dwindling figures.
/~*~\
Stomach (001. Trust)
It’s been a long day. The winds howl at the mouth of the cave, spitting dust and bits of sand like an angry cat. You and Vash set up camp deep within.
Dark with only a small electric lantern at your side, it’s hard to see the ink in your book. You don’t want to sit up to look at it, though. You squint. Vash finishes laying out his sleeping bag at your feet. He’s already set up some line and sound trap measures at the cave’s opening. No one needs to keep watch tonight.
“We should get you a new book in the next town,” Vash says idly, “that one has pages falling out of it.”
An old topic of chatter. “That’s because it’s well-loved,” you hum.
“You’re going to love it to death.”
You smile and raise the book to look at him. He’s set up near your legs, getting his sleeping bag ready and as comfortable as it can get on a stone floor. “Trust me,” you laugh. “I’d rather have it go like that than –“
And suddenly, he scoots up and puts his head on your stomach. A little pillow to use instead of his coat. You’re shocked, finger holding your place in the book as you look his way. He peaks back, a shy glint of blue in the lamplight. Is this okay?
Please let it be okay.
His head bounces when you laugh. You return to your book and knock his head gently with your other hand. Yeah, it’s okay.
/~*~\
Shoulders (082. Warmth)
His broad shoulders are distracting.
Burning white and too-hot already, the morning suns accentuate the curve of his neck, the slope of his back, tapering to a slim waist. Vash curls into a yoga pose in the shade of the outcropping, stretching his muscles and limbering up his joints. He’s shed his coat for the moment. Even he feels the heat today.
You feel a different heat. One you’re trying to not freak out over.
Since when has he been that built?
Your mind scrambles to get ahold of itself. That’s your friend, you think, chiding the rampant girlish thoughts of Holy Hannah, he’s hot.
Of course he’s also hot. Of course! It’s not enough that he’s kind to a fault and genuinely funny. And cute. His face is very cute. You purse your lips and force yourself to stare down at your notebook. You almost gag when you notice you’ve been doodling his figure this entire time, rather than writing notes of your latest escapade from town.
What are you, a schoolgirl?
Guiltily, you look up and watch him stretch his arms to the sky, from one side to the next. His eyes are dull, thoughts turned inward. You trace his shoulders again. They aren’t perfectly rounded – more square, and there are things underneath that slightly bulge and catch on his shirt when he moves. You eye those parts, wondering what it is that makes those shapes.
What’s under there?
Blue eyes suddenly flick to you, and you’re caught red-handed staring. But Vash, ever forgiving, ever one to give someone the benefit of the doubt, gives you a sincere smile. “Why don’t you join me? It could help!”
A blush’s warmth crawls up your back. Help? With what? “Oh,” you say aloud, realizing he means your own limberness needs some work. “Well, sure,” comes out before you think about it, and you put your notebook on your bag, padding over to him on bare feet.
He smiles, dimples in his cheeks. “Do you know how to do the cobra pose?” He’s testing the waters, unsure of how much you know. Vash lays flat on his stomach and bends his body upward. You follow him, feeling your abs and shoulders stretching. “Breathe in…and out…”
And that’s how it goes for a while; Vash teaching you new and old yoga poses, and you trying not to ogle your friend. Not what you expected today – but when does living with Vash ever turn out the way you expected?
/~*~\
Lips (097. Sinking)
The first time, it’s an accident.
You’re both pressed into a crevice in a canyon, fleeing a large worm set on making you its meal. The rock digs into your spine, and Vash is squished to your front, trying to be the shield. The worm screams and screams and breaks against the crack. Pebbles and sand rain down from above.
Vash leans down and shouts, “I think - !! – should – “
“What?!” You scream back.
Vash lowers his head just as you stretch to hear better. Your lips touch, his moving with his message and yours open in terror. Even then, you note how chapped his lips are. “We need to climb!” He starts climbing the sheer rock wall that shakes with every shove of the worm. All you can do is follow.
The second time is a coincidence.
It’s a dance at a bar. One of the many you and Vash have been to. Line dancing, dancing with partners, dancing alone – all on the docket. It happens when he’s leading you down the clapping line, cheek to cheek. He’s singing with the song, leading you back and forth and getting the crowd laughing with how he spins and twirls you, then how you dip him like a lady. You nearly drop him. He screams like a girl. You both lurch toward the other and your lips collide.
The crowd roars in approval, even if it only lasted half a second. There’re pats on the back, winks from the ladies, before you’re shoved back in line and the incident is moved to the back of everyone’s mind in favor of more drink and dancing. Vash’s cheeks flush every time your eyes meet.
“Sorry about that,” he says later, when you’re both stumbling to your rooms and the noise downstairs has died down. His hand is to his neck. Bashful. “You know, the whole…” he gestures with his hand, moving it from his mouth to yours in the air.
“No, I, uh – no, it’s fine,” you stammer, feeling your own heat of embarrassment. But you laugh to ease the tension, “Hey, best kiss I’ve ever had!” Your jaw snaps shut, teeth rattling, and before you can say anything else, you flee into your room with a squeaky “Goodnight!” following the door slam.
Vash flushes, staring at your door. His heart thuds in his ribcage, quick and bright. He lets out a chuckling sigh and goes to his own room. The motions of changing to pajamas, brushing his teeth, and cleaning his face is a soft blur. When he’s finally lying in bed, a hoarse giggle escapes, hands fisting the blankets and turning his head into the pillow to hide his smile from the moonlight.
The third time is a damn shame.
You’re nestled in the crook of his arm, both of your legs hanging off a ledge as you sit on the side of a porched building. Your stomachs are full for once, merriment of your hosts tucked away in their house as you take a moment to yourselves. Another damsel in distress saved. Another day lived.
A content sigh slides out of you, and you rest further on his shoulder. You’ve borrowed a blanket from the lady of the house, wrapped around your shoulders to fight off the chill of night. The last of the suns sets. Everything is blue and quiet.
“You getting cold?” He murmurs, wrapping you closer to his side, opening his coat wider to allow you in.
You smile at his voice. “Nah, you’re a furnace. I dunno how you stand the heat.”
You’re close again. Too close. Always too close, Vash thinks, brushing a strand of hair behind your ear. It brings your eyes to his, and there’s a sudden something between you.
He can’t ignore the look in your eyes. The love there. But he buries his own echo of it deep and wonders, why me? Why would you pick me?
Still, he leans forward.
Still, you do the same.
And just as your lips brush, just as he feels the warmth of your breath fan over him –
– someone opens the door of the house and calls out, “Vash, ______, get back in here before the little worms getcha!”
You two spring apart like you’re both on fire. Maybe you are. An “Oh!” falls from your host’s lips, and she hides inside in embarrassment.
A coiling, sinking feeling rests in Vash’s chest. He isn’t sure what to call it. It feels close to regret, maybe indignation? Embarrassment? It’s hard to look at you. His ears are burning. When he finally peaks over, he sees you do the same. You both look away quickly. “Uh, uhm,” he says, then clears his throat, “they’re probably starting the games. We should – “
“ – yeah, we should.” You nod, standing and twirling around to retreat. But, you stop, seeming to catch your cowardice and glance at him. Hesitantly, you offer your hand out.
Vash looks at your hand. How many times have you offered it to him now? Too many, he thinks. But you always do so willingly. He takes your hand and stands, following you back into the house, the feeling of your breath entwining with his still on his mind.
Damn shame indeed.
/~*~\
Nose (107. Sigh)
In the dim morning light, you feel his nose brush yours.
His nose is straight, somehow, despite all the times it’s been broken. You feel his enviously long lashes brush your cheeks. You try to keep still.
“Morning,” Vash whispers, and kisses your eyelids.
You still don’t move, feigning sleep.
“I know you’re awake,” he says, and his lashes flutter on your own now. “You’ve stopped snoring.”
“I don’t snore,” you say, groggy, and smile when he lets out a laugh.
You hum, scrunching your body up into a ball and burrowing closer to him. He lets you – he always lets you – and his hands run up and down your back, along your sides, under your thighs. The careful caresses of a sleepy lover.
The suns rise once more, blinking into existence one at a time. The motel’s dusty windows let in a fraction of their light, old and cracked. You reach out and trace his chest with calloused fingertips. Your eyes slowly close.
Times like this are rare. A comfy mattress to sleep on, a safe room to be in (with locks that actually work), and nothing but each other to keep company. It’s perfect. Delicate.
“Hey,” he says, leaning his head down and nudging his nose with yours. “I had a dream. We had this big farmhouse with lots of land, and you had your own library in it, and I was an actual Plant engineer, but just for the city near us.”
“Oh yeah?” You yawn, shaking your head to clear it of fuzz. “No more travelling for you?”
“Guess not.” He continues rubbing your back, eyes never leaving you. “I think my mind made up that all the Plants were doing well enough to not need me as much. We even had two dogs and a cat.”
Your lips quirk up. “Can’t have a farmhouse without those.” You yawn again into his chest.
He hums. “Nope. It was a big house. I got lost in it a few times, but then the kids helped me find my way out – “
“The kids?”
He sputters to a stop, and you’re suddenly much more awake, looking up at him through lashes. His eyes rove yours, wondering if he should keep going. “The kids,” he says quietly, “yeah. I…think there were three.”
Your lips thin for a moment, teeth worrying your bottom lip. “Whose…I mean were they…?”
“Ours?” His voice is just as quiet. His hand takes yours from his chest, holding it over his heart, and says, “Yeah, they were.” He licks his lips and a blush rises to his cheeks. “Two of them had your eyes.”
The information settles on you like a warm blanket, and you give him a sleepy smile. “That’s too bad. I’d prefer they have yours.”
He stares at you a moment. Then, Vash lets out a sigh of relief and pulls you closer. Kissing your temple, he says, “Nah, they need your pretty eyes.”
