#[here's to us—here's to love. here's to all the times that we fucked up; orangetintedglasses]

[forgivenpunishment]

Wolfwood scoffs lightly as he watches where Vash's eyes fall. He may have an estranged relationship with his body, but at least he's got assets. Almost human. Almost his own body, but sometimes it doesn't feel like it is. Vash likes it though, he assumes, so that makes it feel more... concrete. Self-assured.

Yes, you're human. Yes, you look older than you are. But you're Nicholas D. Wolfwood all the same.

There are bad days. Of course there are. But there's just something about Vash that makes him feel less like a feral beast or a weapon; somehow that blond optimist has cracked him open and made him real. Made him human. All those years training himself not to be, and then here's this one guy to come and ruin it all. It fills him with a strange sort of warmth that he can't put a name to, not really. Even if he did call it love, it's not good enough, and that's embarrassing.

When Vash's fingers grasp his sleeve, Wolfwood reaches forward to take his hand. He accidentally gives Vash a vulnerable, sparkly sort of gaze—far too soft for his own good. His thumb rubs the back of Vash's hand in a soothing circular motion.

I'll try my best. Promise.

Turning around, Wolfwood peeks outside through the slits in the door, checking for any activity. He feels like he's forgetting something. Something important.

Moments before setting his hand on the doorknob, Wolfwood freezes and turns from the shoulders up to look back at Vash.

Vash, I...

Wait, he has to rephrase that.

Good luck.

He nodded-- it was true, even just attempting to access data like that without the right clearance level could get them locked out of who knows what else... which, had he been by himself, was a risk Vash would have been fine taking. He would have been fine spending way too long sifting through personal messages and emails, just to maybe glance a fraction of a password. Would've camped out for ages on the off-chance someone was oblivious enough to say the wrong thing out loud, or let him catch the code off of a keypad--

But. He wasn't on his own here (thankfully), and Wolfwood offered some valuable insight and direction.

... aaaaas well as other things, apparently, because of course Vash's eyes would bounce when the undertaker mentioned his mass; dropping down to his chest and then immediately back up again, face screwing up in embarrassment. Dammit. W-well, at least splitting up might let them cool off...

Yeah, I can do that. Not exactly my first time crawling around through Eye facility ducts-- we're not going to be able to communicate like this once we split up, but there's another duct near the central hub, past where the junction box is; we can meet up around there.

... but the image of Wolfwood willingly tanking bullets hadn't left his mind quite yet, thoroughly stuck there like a Worm in a glue trap. And while he didn't think Wolfwood would go looking for trouble unless provoked or needed... the thought was still enough to make his stomach twist. Vash grabbed for the closest of the undertaker's sleeves, pinching what was left between two gloved fingers and tugging; a non-verbal request to look at me.

Blue eyes were just as plaintive as they were determined, even in the dark.

Don't... engage, if you can help it. Please. You've already been hurt enough today.

[forgivenpunishment]

⩥ @orangetintedglasses || they need a fuckin' drink [closed starter]

As Vash had promised, as soon as Wolfwood wanted off of the ship, they'd get off the ship.

... Well, as soon as possible, anyway. There were some preparations to be made before landing and dropping them off somewhere was feasible, but it wasn't anything that couldn't get done in a day or so. Realistically, Wolfwood knew this. In his dreams, however, they'd just let them jump off the damn thing and they'd be out of there immediately. Unfortunately, such a disembarkation is impossible.

So the undertaker spends an entire day huddled in a blanket cocoon, refusing to leave the room. Vash brings him whatever he needs, but all in all, they keep to themselves. Wolfwood maybe has a few too many depression naps... Oh, and they both get actual showers in. They still shower together—okay, they get a little handsy—but they do end up clean in the end.

The next day finally arrives, and they reach a suitable destination for touch-down. Wolfwood isn't sure he's been more excited to see the dusty terrain of Noman's Land in his entire life. Well, maybe after he was imprisoned for five years, but other than that...

Wolfwood has been standing noticeably close to Vash. Too close. As close as possible. He's practically clinging to the blond like how a really stubborn worm clings to a wool sweater.

"Sure wish I could say it's been a good time, but..." Wolfwood mumbles as they approach the airlock, "At least the shower was nice."

He sighs, then scratches his head. "Gonna need a stiff drink after this one, Spikey. Maybe... a few of 'em. Hope we got the cash for it."

Then they enter the massive storehouse that they entered through, and Wolfwood nearly sprints away from Vash to Angelina. Two crew members offer to get her off of the pegs, but he stops them.

"No, that's alright, I can handle her!!" He yells, like a parent picking their child up from daycare, then begins to lift the motorcycle from the wall on his own. Driving out into a sandstorm has never looked more appealing. The undertaker sets her on her wheels and begins a routine check-up to make sure no one sabotaged anything or damaged something or...

[forgivenpunishment]

⩥ @orangetintedglasses (m!a: 24 hour service) || what are you wearing...?

Wolfwood expects Vash to finish whatever he was doing before coming over for a kiss, but... he completely stops everything to come over and kiss him. That's strange, but maybe he's just playing around. Yet, the tone of his voice—the 'of course'—sounds so...

His hand chases Vash's after the kiss and he finds himself pouting. "Yeah, go ahead. It's not that bad, really—I think the shirt is gonna be the biggest casualty here. This much blood is so hard to get out... shit's gonna stain so bad I may as well throw the damn thing away."

While Vash is turned away, Wolfwood can't seem to keep his eyes off of the dress and... tries not to think about how good it looks on him.

"So... uh... should I ask about the dress, or...?"

[forgivenpunishment]

He has something for you, Wolfwood!

Something in a little be-handled cardboard box with the logo of a local bakery stamped on the side that Vash seems particularly excited about-- the note he left did say he'd pick him up something for breakfast, after all. He had been out topping up on their supplies- necessities like rations and plenty of water, directions to the nearby cities and settlements, and a pretty helpful tip for where they could fill up on fuel -which left Wolfwood with the oh-so-daunting task of 'make sure our stuff's ready for checkout' if he woke up while Vash was out... but if he didn't, and he was still sleeping, that was perfectly fine, too. The Plant had made good time for once, even if he did end up falling asleep for a little while...

As it turns out, spice isn't the only thing this town is heavy-handed with, but coffee, too; lots of desserts and things are flavored with it, and most of the shops that serve food also serve a 'special' strong coffee - and while he could wager a guess as to what that means and ruin the illusion they're trying to maintain, Vash opted instead to just ask for a cup of it, which he palms to the undertaker with a smile.

"We've gotta leave today anyway, right? Might as well go out with a bang, and while it's not exactly cake, it's the closest I could find without ordering ahead - chocolate espresso tart." the blond chirps, setting the box down on the table and opening it up so he could carefully extract the contents. One hefty slice of what is essentially a chocolate pie: chocolate cookie crumb crust, rich ganache filling, and a perfect-looking peak of coffee-flavored cream on top. Flanking it are six chocolate-covered strawberries, which... he did not ask for, but he assumes made it into the box when he mentioned that it was for his boyfriend.

That poor lady behind the counter. His voice creaks quite a bit if he speaks too loudly; she was such a good sport about him keeping sort of quiet, even as he rambled on-

"Kind of an unconventional breakfast, buuut..." he trails off somewhat pointedly. Then, his brows go up; a realization about just how this might come across hits him, and he's right back to blustering- "a-and I did go and get everything we needed before I picked this up! I didn't just blow everything I had left on this...!"

⩥ @orangetintedglasses || treats for mothwood [random ask, always accepting]

Thankfully, sleep comes without any dreams or nightmares despite the low mood his mind was threatening to commit to. He does, however, vaguely wake up when Vash unclamps his arms so he can get out of bed. Wolfwood barely remembers if he said anything or not, but he'd fallen back asleep.

Every part of his body aches. Aching isn't normally a huge issue for him—he carries a three-hundred pound cross on his back, he's either acclimated to the pain or doesn't experience any, he's not sure which—but the bruises and bites and everything... is painful. It's a good kind of hurt though.

He wakes an hour later and stretches his arms all the way up, popping what feels like every bone in his body with a strained grunt. Vash isn't there. Wolfwood kind of knew that? But still, his heart can't help but beat faster—what if he really did leave? He wouldn't—not after everything—

Oh. There's a note. It better not be a goodbye note or he's going to kick Vash's ass. (And Vash's stuff is still in the room, but Wolfwood fails to notice that. It's early! He just woke up!)

... So Wolfwood goes about the heavy task of picking their things up and packing them all up. Their clothes are... scattered—the ones that had been drying before their shower got thrown vaguely in the direction of Vash's bag. The blond's clothes seem to be put away, but Wolfwood's are... a mess. Grumbling the entire time, Nicholas gets dressed and ready for the day, then finishes stuffing the last of their things into their bags when Vash arrives.

"Hey Needle-noggin, I got—" his partner seems satisfied with himself as he sets the bag on the table and begins removing its contents. Wolfwood may as well be drooling. Chocolate has always been one of his favorites; when he was a child, they would rarely get chocolate as a treat. Whenever they did, Nico often broke off many pieces of his to give to the younger kids. Sometimes he'd give up the whole bar. Once or twice, they got to put chocolate chips in their pancakes.

Something like this though... this is eye candy that you'd see in the window of a bakery. He'd never bothered getting anything like this. Money's too tight to spend frivolously—especially on... sweets. Alcohol is at least something he can socialize with... but...

"... That's for me? What did I... why did you..." He sits at the table and takes the coffee from Vash's hands before nodding his head to the other seat as though asking the blond to sit too, "I didn't do anything to deserve this—I-I mean, uh, why didn't you get yourself a box of donuts for the same price—it's..."

For a minute or so, Wolfwood just stares at it, like it'll disappear if he blinks.

No need to get all sentimental about it, Nicholas. It's... just a piece of—what is this thing? Pie?

When is the last time he's been given a gift? It's not like the Eye of Michael goes around celebrating birthdays—not that he even knows when his is—and their ideas of gifts are questionable, to say the least.

He takes a forkful, making sure to get some of the cream as well, and brings it into his mouth. Sweet, chocolatey, creamy filling perfectly complements the slightly bitter tang of the coffee whipped cream. The pastry is flaky and light and... doesn't taste like cardboard. He practically vibrates at the prospect of trying one of the strawberries next.

Oh. Oh no. This is...

"...Holy shit," he mutters with a partially full mouth, "This is the best thing I've ever eaten. You gotta try some—"

Now completely energized, Wolfwood holds his used fork out to Vash, insisting he has some. It's only natural for Nicholas to share, after all.

[forgivenpunishment]

Wolfwood opens his shell of blankets to allow Vash in before clamping his arms around him like a grand worm catching prey. He does, in fact, bully the blond to lay on his arm—his back to Wolfwood's front. It's... well... it could be a dangerous way to cuddle, but it's nothing new to them.

He holds Vash tight and covers the back of his neck with kisses and nibbles, knowing full well that he's probably tickling the other man. The lack of a left arm makes it extremely easy for Wolfwood to move in close and closer still.

This is much better. None of that other stuff he was mulling over matters right now. Just... him and Vash.

Breathe in.

Breathe out.

After several deep breaths, he speaks softly with a voice rusted by sleep and too many mental conversations. His eyes are no longer open.

"Comfy?"

All thought seemed to halt on the blond's end (as if in apology) before the sound of the sink running again signaled that he was, in fact, finished with what he was doing. Teeth cleaned, face washed, and no longer buck naked as he turned off the water and the light and made his way out of the bathroom and towards their bed, padding near-silently across the floor.

... when he got there, though, he wasn't really sure what way Wolfwood wanted him to lay? Not like the guy had any trouble moving him if he chose 'incorrectly'... still, there was a third option he'd taken on occasion, which seemed like the best choice for the time being: getting into bed in a very middle of the road, very submissive and bully-able position on his back, where the undertaker could either pull him in towards him, or roll him away so they would both face the same direction.

The latter was more inclined for sleep, and the former was more for cuddling... neither options of which Vash felt particularly good about assuming while he was busy overanalyzing everything in his head, so he'd leave the choice on the table for the other, scooting in close in his middling sort of way--

[forgivenpunishment]

There's a light tap on his shoulder-- seems like a certain blond has something for him. Well, actually, two somethings. The first is an offering; a steamed bun with meat and sauce inside, which he holds out for him to take. There's a bitten one in his other hand.

The second is a question, but he'll make sure the undertaker accepts the food first before asking.

"Sooo... how would you feel about a visit to the Home ship?" // ( star wants to take u home mw )

⩥ @orangetintedglasses || oh no i have to meet the parents— (prompted starter)

Where they are is peaceful enough—the sun is shining, kids are playing, and he's allowed to sit on a comfortable bench with a cigarette. Yep, life is pretty good. For now.

Vash taps Wolfwood on the shoulder, causing him to lean backwards to look up at him from behind sunglasses. He grins wide and sunny—a sight that has become more common as of recent, especially around his favorite beam of sunlight.

...And menace. He's definitely still a menace.

He accepts the proffered bun as he flips back to being upright, and gives Vash a nod of thanks.

Before he can take a bite, the blond slaps him with a weighted question. Vash wants to visit Home? Now? Is this some kind of... 'parents getting to know him' kind of visit? He's not even quite sure where they stand (though he certainly has his hopes).

"Wherever you go, I'll follow ya. Even if the place makes me feel as vulnerable as a newborn in a worm den, sure." He takes a bite of the bun, satisfied. "How do you feel safe iles in the sky in a steel fortress? If something happens, you can't get down!"

[forgivenpunishment]

Wolfwood grumbles affectionately, wanting desperately to maintain his cool, level-headed image... but... this is comfortable... Maybe if he just pretends to be asleep, Vash will fall asleep. There's no way he's gonna be able to get any sleep tonight.

What if he doesn't wake up?

What if... someone takes him away... in the middle of the night...?

He definitely doesn't yawn. Nope. His eyes are wide open. The fact that his eyelids appear to be closed is just an illusion. Yep.

"Hmmn... okay..." Wolfwood mutters, his breath warm against Vash's bare chest, "That means... no runnin'... from me." He doesn't want to wake up to the blond leaving him somewhere and disappearing for about a year after the city they were staying in exploded.

The pauses begin to get longer between thoughts.

"...mmrm... not allowed to get pants... y'r stuck now..."

"m'not... sleepy... ing..."

"..... guh'nii... luhm-vu..."

After he becomes incoherent with his mumblings, the undertaker does soon fall asleep. It is a miracle—he was terrified to fall unconscious again, he wasn't planning to... but... with Vash here, it's alright, isn't it?

Snoring softly, Wolfwood curls into Vash even more, seeking his warmth and heartbeat. He has a lot of issues to deal with tomorrow but... one thing at a time.

A-ah, hey~...! Did he have a poke quota to fill or something?

At least it seemed like he was relaxing, somewhat-- even if it did sound a lot more like he was on the verge of succumbing to the pull of full-body fatigue, not just falling asleep... b-but honestly, he'd take either if it meant Wolfwood would spend at least some time actually recovering. Vash bit back a smile and perched his chin comfortably at the crown of his companion's skull.

How does he keep finding ways to make him fall even more in love? What is this? This adorable, grumpy ridiculousness, God he loves it so much--

"You're right about that..." he murmured, still idly stroking through his hair; trying to coax him towards that warm, comfortable place where something more gentle, sleep-like, could take hold.

... could he... hear him, still? Probably... enhanced senses and whatnot...

... buuut what if he were really, really quiet? Maybe he'd be too tired to really catch it--

"... you aren't a burden, Wolfwood." his voice softened even further, barely above a whisper. "You never could be. Not to me. So, just... lean on me when you need to, okay...? Let me be strong for you, sometimes, too."

[forgivenpunishment]

Perhaps the decision to immediately bare his sidearm was a bit hasty—he's been on edge since arriving here though, and all of this happening because of a little doctor visit just didn't add up. That aside, Vash probably wouldn't like it if any of these windbags got injured too badly. He'd normally throw care to the wayside, but... for Vash...

He can't kill them. Rough them up, maybe. But it'd upset Vash to see death like this on his home ship, so he can't.

That blond is... insufferable in the worst way. Way too good for his own good. Why does he bend over backwards for people who only want the worst for him?

(And yet, here he is, a few sentences short of admitting defeat to the wicked thing behind his ribs.)

In the present moment, Wolfwood's eyes snap to the two guards that begin to trail Vash. Without hesitation, the undertaker rushes one and bashes him against the other, then pistol whips them both unconscious before they can so much as think about turning to face him.

It all happens within seconds due to Nicholas's expertise and physical augmentations. At least he can use his status as a mutant to do something right. If he can save Vash and let him do his thing, everything will turn out fine. Right?

As he turns around, he can feel tiny pricks dig into his blazer, trying to bury themselves into his flesh. Wolfwood can recognize the sizzling pain anywhere—he's being tased.

"Takes a lot more than that to take me down, but you're all welcome to keep tryin'," he taunts, hoping to keep their eyes trained on him. His free hand sweeps through the copper strands and tears them away from his body—the sound of torn fabric follows in their wake, creating rips in his clothing. Wolfwood hisses, thinking of the damage he'll have to repair later, but that's not important right now.

His hands burn from the thin coils that leave lines of searing red marks on his flesh. It's nothing.

(He thinks about the sand steamer all those years ago. Those were burns. These are child's play.)

Vash is relying on him. He needs to do better.

Watching the rest of the crowd—five guards, one mad scientist, one guy pissing himself—Wolfwood braces himself in a more defensive stance. He looks each one in the eye, analyzing the battlefield and his opponents. They seem to be watching him in turn, and most of them have thrown their tasers to the side now that they've proven useless. Some of them seem concerned that a seemingly normal man just tore himself free of tasers completely unaffected. Some of them seem unshaken, as though they expected that to happen.

They want to bait him into using his gun, Wolfwood knows this. He could easily be framed, and he's not sure how they handle criminals on this ancient hub of space-faring tech, but he can assume it'd end with him and Vash making a break for it. It could also end in some kind of exile, who knows?

One of them twitches first, reaching for a new weapon. As if on cue, Wolfwood mechanically aims up at the lights embedded in the ceiling and shoots out three of them—bang, bang, bang. Glass shatters around them and Wolfwood can fight on the familiar terrain of a shadowed walkway lit only by dim ambient emergency floor lamps.

The next things Wolfwood hears are the electrical hums of stun guns and shock batons activating.

An awkward squawk in Wolfwood's name (quite the difference from the utterance literal seconds ago) as he bustled past, armed, was the only real 'protest' he'd manage to offer. The situation was dangerously close to reaching critical mass and for the life of him, Vash couldn't figure out why.

But they could work on that later. They'd have to; time was not a luxury they had, despite their best efforts. Even if they hadn't gotten distracted, this opposition likely would've found them one way or another. But now, there was another problem.

Go check on Brad. We'll meet up later. Which, in reality, meant: Go and leave me here to deal with this.

He didn't want to leave. Vash desperately didn't want to leave. But-- but if this was the only moment they had, then--

Drawing his senses back into their normal range, the blond stepped outside and let everything around him slow to a proverbial crawl. Just for a moment. Just to get an assessment of everything that he could before he made a decision.

The first thing he noticed was the tall, dark-haired Sinner from before-- Doctor Somerset --almost towering over everyone else. The second was that aside from him and the balding man tucked beside him (cowering, he was basically cowering), the rest of the men were security. Nine bodies, minus two. Seven. An uneven amount for the both of them.

The third, and most important in his mind, was the lack of heavy weapons. The gun-shaped objects clutched in the hands of at least four of the men were tasers-- meant to subdue (and probably scare into submission) rather than do actual harm. Vash wasn't sure if that made him feel better or worse, honestly, but it meant that they weren't aiming for a kill-- that if he did go, he wouldn't come back to--

Stop.

--time's flow resumed. Decision made. And as the Plant turned on his heel to take off, he called back, "be careful...!"

God, please be careful--

"It seems the reports were true-- an intruder carrying a weapon. Isn't that interesting." Somerset's croon was cold and sharp, despite the mask of indifference on his face. Two of the security looked back at him, silently urging for an order on what to do with the escaping blond. When he simply nodded, they moved, intending to give chase--

[forgivenpunishment]

Wolfwood hums a chuckle against Vash's lips, his head lies heavy against Vash's and his eyes remained closed—though they do crinkle at the corners. He raises a shaking hand to the blond's cheek and holds it in his palm, caressing below his eye with the thumb.

He tries—tries—to open his sleepy eyes to make contact with the Stampede, but as soon as he does he can't hide the genuine smile paired with an unfiltered blush and a natural laugh. It's the lightest he's felt in... ever... and he knows he should enjoy it now before the introspection inevitably kicks in for the both of them.

Still breathing small laughs, Wolfwood removes himself and rolls off of Vash and onto his back beside him. His broad chest rises and falls with steady breaths. He still can't control the wide smile and starry eyes of his expression as he turns his head to face the man at his side.

"I'm pretty sure you're going to feel more sore tomorrow than you were today. Sorry, Spikey."

At some point, his body reacted; his patterns burning bright trails along his skin as what felt vaguely like climax hit him-- the sudden tightness before the release of pressure --and a flood of nectar acting as signal that anything like that had happened at all, pearls of milky, syrupy spend beading and spilling from around their joining...

Three orgasms in fairly rapid succession (or maybe it was four? Technically??) definitely seemed to be the limit of what the the Plant could take, at least before his brain was pretty thoroughly cooked. Vash was devoid of any real thought or concern, coasting through the aftershocks that tried to ping his brain as something causing discomfort, getting no response. His limbs were limp, useless things that stayed in whatever position they'd landed in-- more akin to cooked noodles than actual arms and legs. If any sort of danger decided now was the time to knock on their door...

Well, would there be a better time to get hauled off for a bounty than right now...?

He was completely overloaded-- happy and oblivious to anything that wasn't them. No worries. No second-guessing, no guilt. All he could focus on-- and all he wanted to focus on --was Wolfwood, spent and limp on top of him. His scent, the weight of him, how he was licking him clean. Talking to-- talking to him, talking, he was--

"Per... perfect fit..." Vash echoed breathlessly in an attempt at agreement. His expression mirrored the unspoken, hopelessly lovesick sentiment; even if they both couldn't bring themselves to say it, it was... definitely there. And to that effect, the blond turned his head, managing to catch the undertaker's upper lip in a clumsy little kiss-- a sweet, tender thing that was barely more than a brush, with how his body protested the movement--

[forgivenpunishment]

Wolfwood can't even pretend to understand everything that's happening in this conversation. He can't speak Plant, there are two Vashes, and now apparently Knives is involved?

The undertaker bites at the inside of his lip at the mention of Knives. He shuffles a bit, adjusts his position on the seat—anything to hide his discomfort when Vet mentions feeling Knives's presence within Vash's... mind? Soul? Whatever the hell is going on.

If that's the case, then there's a chance that things will... go back to how they were before. Wolfwood isn't sure how he'd handle that—would he submit? Let himself be pinned up again by the rewritten Vash trying to 'protect' him? Would he fight back? He's not... sure. At least they're not in the JuLai headquarters, where fighting back wasn't really an option if he wanted to live. If he wanted both of them to live.

Quietly, with thoughts of being pinned like a worm on display clouding his mind, Wolfwood lets the Vashes discuss the possibilities.

@firsthumandisaster

Both of the questions posed by his companions presented options Star hadn't considered until the that moment... and more potential for problems than initially thought. The mention of the Home ship especially put him more on edge: with him not being able to remember what exactly had happened to cause the disruption there (aside from the fact that he'd had some role in it, as had Doctor Somerset), there was no telling if there were genuine similarities between the event there and this one... though him being incapacitated while Dependent Plants were struggling as a common denominator for both of them? Not... a great look.

... wait. Wait, the Home ship, the Plants there... if Ship 3 got caught before they could get out of range of this disruption, then--

No. Home has to be faster than that, and it's been a few days. They have to have been able to get out.

Star did his best to banish that concern for now and focused on something else. Like if the comms they'd been given gone off at all. He could ask, but could they even have been able to reach them if communications were down literally everywhere for iles and iles? Or did they run off their own sort of hard connection?

Agh, there were too many questions and not enough answers, and even fewer that he could provide as he tried and tried and tried to parse what it was that that voice had been saying to him right before he'd lost consciousness. But all that came back to him was a wash of static and disjointed syllables that didn't form anything solid enough to grasp. The strain of it was starting to get to him as well, so after a moment, Star stopped trying, pulling his hand away from his forehead and-- noticing that Wolfwood's hand was there on offer --and laid it overtop of his, hooking his fingers over the muscle between his thumb and forefinger and squeezing gently.

Then, he shook his head, "the voice wasn't clear enough for me to make anything of it... and I still don't know for sure what caused the disruption on the ship, so I'm not... really any help right now. Sorry..."

He threw the undertaker an apologetic sort of look and squeezed his hand again, wishing he could provide any information... but then he'd turn his head towards his counterpart, curious. He could understand why Wolfwood posed the question he had, but Vet said he'd felt Nai's menace.

That was more than a little alarming.

"You... felt him...?"

@forgivenpunishment

[forgivenpunishment]

Wolfwood listens along as Vash reminisces about pleasant memories, happy to hear him with a more cheerful tune. It starts to feel normal again. He manages to relax, placing his hands behind him and leaning back.

Looking up at Vash fondly, he shakes his head slowly. "You hang onto it. I might have another on me somewhere within the sucker wrappers." (He doesn't.)

He then chuckles and flashes one of his wolfish grins, "Days, huh? Guess we better make ourselves comfortable. I start getting all restless when I'm bored. Twitching and stuff—hey, I can't even smoke here. How am I supposed to last even one day? I only got so many suckers before I go insane!"

Not serious, he sighs, "Life is hard, Blondie. Life is hard."

The offering is appreciated, though he's part-way through loading a polite rejection-- or a note about splitting it when they get legitimately hungry --when he actually looks at the thing, and takes it from the other's hand gently. Not to tear into it or anything, but to look it over with a soft sort of sound. Something fond, breathy, and maybe just that little bit incredulous.

"... these things always make me think of food on the ships." he says, flipping the bar around to try and locate that infamous list of ingredients. "We'd have real food, sometimes, thanks to the Plants... but when it wasn't a special occasion, it'd always be something like this. The packaging is almost the same, too... wonder if they keep for that long~."

Nutrients and enough calories to keep going condensed in a little block, where flour is apparently the first ingredient. Same old, same old~. This one was bigger, though, which makes sense; you didn't know when you were going to get the chance to stop and eat if you had a long desert trek ahead of you. Vash feels himself grinning, even as he holds it out for the undertaker to take back.

"Let's split it when we need it. Dunno how long we're gonna be up here... could be days."

Is he exaggerating? Yeah, a little, but if it helps keeps the tone light after all of that--

[forgivenpunishment]

The undertaker hums thoughtfully before responding, "Nah, you don't owe me nothin'. I'm a big boy, I can entertain myself while you work."

He does run a hand down Vash's side and thumb at the revealed section of hip playfully, however. His outfit really is such a tease—Wolfwood can't help but wonder what switch flipped in that spiky head of his to make him such a flirt. He's... not going to think so hard about that one, actually, considering what went on between then and now.

"Well, I guess you owe me one thing," Wolfwood corrects himself, remembering what he was just getting on Vash's ass about, "Dinner. A healthy, wholesome dinner—no snacks or junk. Then tonight, you owe me some sleep. I'll hold you in bed if I gotta. Well... gonna hold you in bed anyway, but you know what I mean. Give yourself a break tonight. For me?"

He squawked-- he was expecting the assault entirely and he still squawked anyway. The blond had too much of penchant for sounds-- including one blustered argument of 'shut up, you run warmer than I do!' --to keep quiet, even as he accepted his sentence of one Wolfwood-delivered noogie that did quite the number on his hair. The black was all mussed up with the golden locks, but that was fine; truly it was what he deserved for the unforgiveable crime of making his boyfriend feel neglected like that.

He... did hear the trip up, though. B-but he wouldn't say anything, react to it-- or draw attention to the sudden anxious shuffling. Vash just shook his head at the posed question, tucking his arms behind his back and rocking on his heels.

"Nope!" he chirped with a bright smile and sparkling eyes, a look that almost seemed to say 'and even if I was? Not anymore'-- "I'm all yours, if you'll have me. Kinda owe you some time, don't I?"

Owes him a lot of time, if he's being honest, but that's up to the undertaker to decide--

[forgivenpunishment]

"Good," Wolfwood states, satisfied, clasping his hands together over Vash's stomach as he spoons him sideways. The bed is a little messy, but he did his best to dry up as much as he could when Vash was out cold... so it's bearable. With an 'oh,' he shifts a hand up to the Plant's hip and pats it gently, then reaches down to pull the covers over the both of them.

It's... softer than he deserves. All of this. He doesn't deserve any of this. But something in him changed after JuLai. Wolfwood is protective now, wants the blond as close as possible, even if it scares him sometimes.

Maybe it's because, even subconsciously, Vash wanted him close back then. Maybe he'd gotten too used to it. Maybe he wants to be in control of it if it happens again.

No... no, the undertaker definitely wants this. Maybe it's wrong, but...

He readjusts himself, wrapping his arms around Vash again and fitting the curve of Vash's body flush against himself.

"Hey, Vash."

No pseudonym for emphasis.

"If it happens again, I'll be here. I'll stay with you."

He speaks simply, then buries his head against Vash's.

The blond makes a noise-- the people-equivalent of a beep --as he's lifted and moved and suddenly, they're lying down. They're lying down (they're cuddling, this is cuddling, breathe) and he has absolutely no idea what to do with his arms all of a sudden, e-except move the left one out of the way, stuffing it underneath pillows so neither of them have to lay on it or have any bits of it poking them.

... h-he's... pretty sure nothing could've prepared him for this. For Nicholas D. Wolfwood initiating post-coital cuddling. His heat feels like it's going to explode--

"... definitely okay..." Vash breathes, settling in once he tamps the giddiness back down to normal levels, though his heart rate is definitely giving away just how okay he is with this.

[forgivenpunishment]

"Mwah~"

Anon? said: [gives him a little smooch] -definitely not mothwood

Oh, uh-huh. Yep. Sure it isn't.

( @forgivenpunishment )

[forgivenpunishment]

No, we should just get going. If they don't want anyone on the upper levels to know about the lower section, there won't be any information that we can access. If there is, it's locked up tight and probably way too risky to try to find.

Wolfwood shakes his head to match his thoughts. He's contemplative, scanning over the rooms on the map with a pensive expression.

The administrator up here was probably doing something way different than whoever was in charge down there. At best, I think the only thing we'd find are messages sent from one department to the other. And that's if we're lucky.

Honestly, the idea of traveling through vents stresses him out. It's nothing he can't handle, but usually he makes a lot of space with the Punisher on his back. Fighting in closed, small spaces isn't really something he practices often. Was it part of his training? Yes, but he doesn't really use it.

Now for strategy...

Are we splitting up here? I can take the direct route if you wanna go chew on wires. Could also crawl through vents, but I don't wanna get in the way. I'm... I have a little bit more body mass than you. You know, with my chest and all. Just a little harder for me.

Moment (decidedly and forcibly) forgotten for the time being, the Plant was already pretty much looking over Wolfwood's shoulder, nosy as he could be. He did accept the offered map for a closer look, though, holding onto the other side as Wolfwood poked and prodded and gave voice to his observations. And while he talked, Vash's eyes landed on the security office by the southeast door, tracing along the path they would've had to have taken when they left, and... yeah. There they were, management office. Just like Wolfwood had said.

Dotted along every odd hall were junction boxes, with scribbled notes and arrows done in fine-tip marker to point out where they held jurisdiction. That's what they were looking for-- the one they needed was only a bit of a distance away from here, if they were planning to use the ducts to get there --but when Wolfwood pointed out further issues, Vash's priorities began to temporarily shift.

No, I don't like it, either. We could try looking around for more info on this place... there's bound to be archives somewhere. Maybe even some in here... we probably don't have clearance to access anything digital, though. I mean, we could ask, but...

He really, really wasn't banking on help from their security friend anymore, not after that display. Vash tapped the blacked out section with a serious sort of expression.

Our other option is to explore once we get down there and find out for ourselves... even if there might not be anything there at all; only one of them seemed convinced there was something to be scared of. That sort of fear has a way of spreading to other people. Making itself true.

... that line of thought was probably a bit too grim, and maybe a few too many steps ahead though, now. Right now, they needed to work on getting to the closest junction box, and it wasn't that far away. Vash let his free hand glide along the path of the ducts from where they needed to be, and where they were, stopping to tap the closest entrance nearby.

Do we want to try and find some reading material, or do we wanna head straight there...?

[forgivenpunishment]

Wolfwood sticks his tongue out through a smile, sliding it between his top row of teeth and his bottom lip. He adds a wink for good measure, fully aware of the effect he's having on Vash (and himself, as he's a little too excited for his own good).

Aww... No fun.

He teases Vash, but knows that he needs to get back into a serious mood to reach the finish line in one piece. If something happens to either of them, he must be focused.

Thankfully, there aren't many places to check in this tiny room. Under a magnet on the side of a metal filing cabinet is a well-used laminated map with notes in colorful temporary marker scribbles. The markings are no longer temporary with how long they've been on the map without removal.

On the map is an internal view of the facility that displays notes about wiring, duct work, and plumbing. Immediately curious, Wolfwood's gaze drops to the bottom of it to see the potential downstairs, but it's blacked out. Completely inaccessible, and may as well not even exist. There's a marked hydraulic door in the bottommost room, but it appears to go nowhere.

I think this might help. Even tells us what the rooms are for. Look—so many of these upper rooms connect to the buildings on the surface... the whole damn place was an experiment. What were they trying to do here, though...? Why would there be 'freaks' downstairs? I don't like the look of this.

Wolfwood hands the map over to Vash, pointing each thing out as he thinks it.

H-hey! I can take it back...!

He wouldn't, though. The intensity and (what sure felt like) insistence kept him in place, even pushing him to initiate another kiss... which was fine, it was fine. Vash didn't mind it at all-- didn't mind keeping close, not when touching amplified their link. It was just... patching up the cracks in it from the hasty connection, they'd just... they...

... man, who was he even kidding at this point: half-lidded eyes and moony, syrupy blues did nothing to hide what he was actually thinking as his gaze flicked from Wolfwood's mouth, up to his eyes behind the shades, then back again, even if he did (somehow) manage to keep those thoughts from breaching their space. There was... a lot... they could get up to, here, in this completely private space--

Right... so if it is here, we just need to find it. That does mean we kind of need to...

God, they are in the middle of something; Wolfwood's clothes were basically in bloody tatters from being shot. This was not the time to be feeling like this, and yet here he was, loathe to move away from him.

You know. Break. We're too bad at stopping to--

NOPE. No, putting that thought out there wouldn't help! Vash had to force himself to move, now, laughing at his own inability to relax even with the threat of danger looming. He covered his traitorous mouth with a hand and stepped back, shaking his head.

Maybe that did do something to me... let's look around. We find the map, we get to the Plants and do what we came here to do, and then we can... go. Somewhere else. Anywhere else.