sai

Vash doesn't particularly know how to waltz. He's seen it in old movies he barely remembers. And he's fairly certain it wouldn't have been part of Wolfwood's training and upbringing. So they're working blind, as they are in most parts of this new territory of their relationship. (Even calling it that alone is, in its own way, new territory.)

The song cuts out, signal trailing off to static, and they keep swaying a moment before Wolfwood speaks. Vash listens but he refuses to raise his head from the spot it's cradled in against the other man's pulse point. His own thoughts slowly fizzle, wrapped in the soft hum of radio fuzz.

“I think we lost the signal,” Wolfwood murmurs, making no move to pull away and fiddle with the radio in spite of this.

Vash hums a soft “Mhm” in reply, fingers gripping at Wolfwood’s hand a little tighter. The buzzing almost-silence carries on for a moment longer before he properly replies. “Can we stay like this for a while?”

Wolfwood’s hand, the one not laced together with Vash’s and posed next to them in their waltz, slides down to wrap around his waist. Drawing him in just that extra bit closer. He’s warm, warm enough that Vash can focus on the evening hum of the planet buzzing around them. Distant stars sing quietly in his ear, across distances he can never cross–and would never, not when home is right where he is.

“We’ve got time,” Wolfwood tells him, shifting to press a kiss to the side of his head. Trying to hide the gesture from the stars themselves–something just for Vash to have from him.

They do have time, finally. Vash relaxes against him and feels Wolfwood support his weight easily. Like drifting, like floating, like flying…

“Just don’t fall asleep on me,” Vash hums, teasing, as he focuses on the dull thrum of Wolfwood’s heartbeat. The subtle sounds of his breathing. The static buzz of his body. Wrapped in the sounds of the radio’s fuzz it feels even warmer, somehow.