#( those idiot gunmen easily fooled by just that and vash's little murmurs sweet nothings full of french )

[melpcmene-arch]

"No, no shooting." Not here. Not in this alleyway. Not when the bullets could ricochet and hit someone and hurt them, or worse, kill them. He gave him a sour look; an almost formed pout on his lips before it dropped. He mentally psyched himself up for this. Kissing was not something that Vash ever expected. But it was better than anything, even better than shooting. It'll save lives. That's what Vash thought to himself as he ignored the butterflies in his stomach.

His mind questioned the choice of Wolfwood bringing out his sunglasses, but soon that thought evaporated when a pair of hands cradled his face.

It's a surprise, one that soon discarded with the sudden task at hand. But it almost caught Vash off guard. He breathed in deeply. His cheeks burning. The kiss was delicate. A gentle pressing of lips, pushed together. It felt like an awkward kiss, like the first kiss between two people. Which is technically what it was.

Vash tested the waters and pushed forward, intentively kissing back. He's kissed a lot of people. A lot. So many ladies── yeah, that's a lie. But then Wolfwood dipped the other and Vash almost yelped. It was unexpected, but luckily Vash's yelp was muffled by Wolfwood's lips.

His cheeks burned more, and his heart was now throbbing in his ears. But he added to the charade in hopes that the gunmen were fooled by their plan. A stupid plan. One mentioned in romance books. ( A thing mentioned by Rem. ) But he spoke in a different language: french. He mutters out sweet nothings, all in french to provide fire to this already burning illusion crafted by them.

One hand cupped at Wolfwood's cheek while an arm was thrown over the back of his neck, still muttering and praising in french.

The gunmen witnessed this, and eventually muttered something, grumbling underneath their breaths. "Fuckin' couple wasting out times. C'mon! I bet they haven't gone far! This way!" And soon the gunmen footsteps faded away, and Vash was maybe a bit focused on kissing Wolfwood before snapping out of it: "I... I think they're gone now." He mutters, ignoring the heat on his cheeks. He sums it up to the cold, that's why his cheeks were like that. Definitely. "Wow."

@melpcmene 𝐅𝐚𝐤𝐞 𝐎𝐮𝐭, 𝐌𝐚𝐤𝐞 𝐎𝐮𝐭 ~ (contiuned)

✞ ⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯ "At least with bullets, I can shoot back," Wolfwood mutters with a sullen sigh. Of all the things to get mixed up in, kissing Vash the Stampede was not on Nic's bucket list. He'd rather stand his ground, but they were cornered, trapped like rats in an alleyway. A fitting comparison with how disheveled they are.

"Let's at least make this count," the priest grumbles, possibly too soft & miffed for Vash to hear. He briefly wipes his coat off before securing his sunglasses. Who the fuck wears sunglasses at night? He does. Without another word, Wolfwood reaches to cradle Vash's face.

Pucker up ~ he thinks but doesn't dare speak as the voices of the gunmen grow louder. They aren't even trying to be sneaky at this point.

"Where they at?"

"I see something this way."

Wolfwood leans in, planting a delicate kiss at first. It was more like touching lips more than anything, but when the gunmen come around the corner, Nicholas swoops his arm behind Vash & dips the Typhoon with a less subtle kiss. & because the moment calls for it... his back foot pops up & points into the air.