#Probably not the most accurate depiction of vertigo tbh

[mydetheturk]

Had a bad migraine & vertigo today, decided to Project. Have Wolfwood Dealing With Vertigo and being Annoyed about it. (If it goes up on ao3 I'll make a post later💜🦑) (if you see any mistakes no you don't 💜)

~~

Wolfwood wakes with his head full of static and his limbs full of lead. He and Meryl and Vash had drank the night before, celebrating something that Wolfwood can't really remember now. All Wolfwood knows is he desperately needs to piss and he's too goddamn hot under the blanket with Meryl clinging to his back.

He tosses the blanket off, pushes himself upward, swings his legs around –

And finds himself on the floor, too dizzy to stay up.

Wolfwood wheezes at the landing. He's dense, heavy with muscle and Eye augmentations, so the landing is loud, louder than he'd ever admit.

Wolfwood is still staring at the wall in confusion when he hears a noise above him. Turning his head, he sees Meryl peeking over the side of the bed.

"Wolfwood? What happened?" She sounds just this side of freaked out, so Wolfwood tries to answer.

"Dizzy," he grunts.

He doesn't get any further when the door opens up, Vash looking panicked.

"Are both of you okay?" he yelps.

Wolfwood rolls onto his back, and while his vision doesn't swim, he's pretty sure if he tries to sit up again he's not making it. His balance is shot, and he doesn't actually know what's causing it yet. He could be dying? Maybe? He doesn't think so, is pretty sure that if he were dying there'd be a lot more bullets and he'd be vomiting up his own blood, but what does Wolfwood know, anyway?

"Nick's down," Meryl says. She pushes herself up. "Over here."

Vash carefully steps around the bed and kneels beside Wolfwood. "Hey, you okay?" he asks. He doesn't touch but he's hovering, and Wolfwood hates it, hates this weakness.

"Dizzy. Fulla lead," is what Wolfwood answers. "Help me up, gotta piss." He pushes his shoulders down, pressing his chest up into Vash's touch inhumanly hot touch. A touch like that could leave scorch marks if Vash wasn't so gentle with Wolfwood.

Vash curls his hands under Wolfwood's ribcage, scooping him up so Wolfwood is seated. He goes to press his hand to Wolfwood's forehead and hesitates. "Meryl?"

She presses her hand to Wolfwood's forehead instead. "Well he's not warm. You sure you're not hungover?" She's teasing, but she's a little serious as well.

"I think I can hold my liquor a little better than that," Wolfwood says.

Vash rumbles against Wolfwood's side, pressing their cheeks together. Wolfwood relaxes into his touch. It would have been unthinkable even six months ago. "I was going to wake the two of you," he interrupts before they can devolve into bickering. "We can't head out today."

Wolfwood makes a noise and Meryl looks at him with suspicion.

"A sandstorm hit last night," Vash explains. He rolls up to his feet, pulling Wolfwood with him as though Wolfwood weighs nothing. "Spoke to the innkeeper about keeping our room until it passes through." Wolfwood's sense of balance is a little too shot right now to smack Vash for it, but Meryl pokes Vash in the side for him. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I know. But it's a pretty bad one. Another group checked in just before it hit, apparently. Storm was full of lightning."

Ah.

Wolfwood isn't dying.

Wolfwood is just suffering the other side effects of the Eye's experiments. Too sharp senses were one thing – and now that Vash has pointed it out, Wolfwood can hear the sand rattling against the shutters – and he can usually cope with them using his sunglasses, ear plugs he'd stolen from a former colleague's team, and a steady stream of cigarettes and/or suckers.

The way sandstorms on Noman's Land blow through towns – and during the time of the year they're most common – ruins Wolfwood's balance. He doesn't think the doctors ever got a clear answer for that one, just knows it happened way back at Hopeland too. It irritated Chapel to no end, that his star pupil was so debilitated by the sandstorms. Wolfwood always had to be careful during sandstorm season, and even during the off seasons, pushing himself beyond his limits to keep Chapel's approval.

Wolfwood grunts.

"Ah, yeah. Sorry." Vash shifts Wolfwood so that he can get Wolfwood's arm over his shoulders. "Water closet?"

"'Water closet.' You're so old fashioned," Wolfwood scoffs. 

Meryl titters a little but sits up properly, now fully awake. "What time is it even?" she asks. "It feels early but…" 

It's dark in their hotel room. It's probably the sandstorm, though, and Wolfwood is glad they're in a town.

"Late enough I got most of my morning routine done," Vash says. "You two were exhausted. We can get breakfast in a bit."

He lets Vash help him to the bathroom of their inn room, takes a few minutes to recompose himself. Wolfwood's not eating, not this morning. He should, and he will, but that's a later problem. The lump caught in his throat from the vertigo won't let him, nor does he think he'll be able to keep it down. He might be able to manage some porridge or maybe toast if the inn's tavern has any bread this morning.

Meryl's mostly dressed by the time Wolfwood's recomposed himself, and Vash used the communal showers before coming back into their room, so he's clean & freshly dressed as well.

Wolfwood's the problem today. As much as it chafes, he lets them help him suit up. Usually it's the other way round, stripping one another of their clothes, trying not to tear anything in their haste.

Their hands still linger on Wolfwood's skin, though, Meryl circling her hands around Wolfwood's biceps to buckle his sleeve garters, and Vash feeling him up while tucking in his shirt, chest to back with Wolfwood. 

It has him a little on edge, but his limbs are full of lead and he can't move without swaying. He's glad he doesn't have to hide this weakness from them, that they care for him despite it.

Wolfwood is dreading the stairs to the first floor. He's grateful they're only on the second – this inn has three.

"Ready to brave the rest of the inn?" Vash asks. He and Meryl are on either side of Wolfwood, Vash's arm slung behind his shoulders and Meryl's arm around Wolfwood's hips.

Wolfwood grunts. He's not. He's going to, but he's not.

Meryl headbutts his ribs lightly. "Half an hour? Then we can come back up and cuddle?" she offers.

"I reserve the right to kick one of you in the shin to get me back up here if my head starts acting up," Wolfwood says. He'll kick Vash in the shin. Lightly, cause he doesn't actually want to hurt Vash, nor does Wolfwood think his shoes could actually do the Plant any damage, but he'll do it.

Vash chuckles and nuzzles Wolfwood's jaw as though he knows Wolfwood's plans. Fucker. "Alright. Let's get you downstairs and get some food in you?"

Wolfwood crinkles his nose. "If you do." Vash makes a face, sharp teeth bared for the room to see. "Needle-noggin, I swear to God."

"If you take something for your vertigo," Vash says lightly, his eyes flashing a deeper than usual blue. "We should have something that'll work in the first aid kit, you just need to eat first."

Wolfwood narrows his eyes. He knows what meds Vash is talking about, and hates how much more like lead his body feels when he takes them.

They shouldn't have to run, though. They're going to be downstairs for half an hour and then right back up here. Wolfwood is going to be useless if they had to run anyway, body made of lead and head stuffed full of worms.

He concedes the point. "Fine."

"Wonderful. Let's go before they stop serving breakfast foods." Meryl tugs on Wolfwood's waist, just a bit, unbalancing him slightly. He overcorrects, landing in Vash's arms.

Vash scoops Wolfwood up entirely while Wolfwood tries to get his vision to stop swirling and his stomach to settle. "Looks like I'm carrying you today," Vash teases.

"Fucker," Wolfwood breathes. He clings to Vash and buries his face in Vash's neck, ignoring how Meryl coos at him.

Vash chitters in his throat for a couple of seconds and then moves, and it takes everything in Wolfwood's training to not tense up against Vash and to stay limp to make it easier on him. The stairs are a harrowing nightmare that Wolfwood almost – almost – demands to be put down upon arriving at. But Vash just rearranges Wolfwood and carries him down.

Meryl makes an appreciative noise at the sight.

Wolfwood flips her off.

Vash settles Wolfwood at a table while Meryl hurries to the bar to get them breakfast – thomas eggs, something like the grits Wolfwood ate at Hopeland, and some sort of vegetation that might have actually been grown. He gets down most of the grits Meryl got for him, and all of the vegetation. The eggs he passes on to Vash with a pathetic look. Vash stares unblinking at him for a minute before accepting them. Wolfwood supposed one of them has to eat today, and he can't get much more than what he's managed.

An extra bowl of grits makes its way to their table and Wolfwood eyes them suspiciously.

"I might have mentioned you being ill to the innkeeper's daughter," Meryl admits. "You'll need it later, Nick."

Nick can't say no to that, so he slumps in the chair and Vash pats his back, hand lingering between Wolfwood's shoulder blades.

"Alright," Vash says, "back to the room to cuddle?"

"Yeah, I guess."

"Yep."

Vash gets Wolfwood back upstairs while Meryl dips into their collective hotel money stash to pay for breakfast, bringing the extra bowl up with her.

When she makes it back up, Wolfwood is on the bed and Vash is digging through the first aid kit.

Wolfwood's already kicked his shoes off, and she does the same before sitting on the bed beside his hips.

"How's your head?" she asks.

Wolfwood has his arm slung over his face. He wiggles his free hand.

"Almost fell back down the stairs," Vash pipes up. Wolfwood flips him off. "But we got in here no problem. Could you fill a glass while I dig?"

Meryl fills a glass half-full with water from their tiny bathroom sink and sets it on the table beside the bed. She's down for cuddles as soon as Vash can get the meds into Wolfwood.

Vash emerges victorious, holding up a small vial with a label on the side in Wolfwood's handwriting that just says Vertigo.

Wolfwood sighs, and lets Meryl pull him up so he can drink his water and take a couple of pills.

"Hate this," he grumbles. "Hate how heavy this shit makes me feel."

Meryl kisses his forehead. "We've got you," she says. She and Vash lay him down, Meryl tucked in on one side and Vash tucked in on the other.

"Let us take care of you for once," Vash adds. Wolfwood bares his teeth, but melts into the bed once both of them are settled. Vash noses the side of his neck. "Rest, Nico. If something happens, we'll bring you with us."

"Dead weight and all," Meryl says. She fists one hand in Wolfwood's shirt, wrinkling the fabric. Wolfwood grunts, arms a little trapped but he's out fast enough. Meryl slides back into sleep soon after, content that Vash is keeping watch. 

Vash purrs, rhythmic and slow as the sandstorm rages on.