#is it vashwood?? not really :/ but hey at least both of them are here and it's not just one of em

[tradingjack]

Kicked puppy and foxboy

[shingansoul]

That's How It Is (Trigun fic)

Sumary:

2023 Vashwood Week day 3, prompt: Scars

"I don't want to do this anymore."

This line has been rattling around in my brain for like 3 months so when I saw this for day 3's prompt i jumped on the chance.

@vashwoodweek

To read on AO3, follow the link below. To read here, continue past the read more!

“I don’t want to do this anymore…”

His voice had barely been above a whisper, but the only other sounds out here in the desert night was the wind around them whipping up loose sand out beyond the rocky outcropping they had made camp at for the night and the fire crackling beside them a small distance away at their little camp’s center. And yet, it felt like it had to be said quietly, a confession like any other sin meant only for the priest and God to hear.

Wolfwood paused from his actions, having been digging through Vash’s bag to dredge out some kind of canned food they had picked up at the previous town to heat over their meager fire. He waited, to make sure he didn't miss anything else from his companion but he was met with silence and a growing sense of unease in the air, his hackles would have raised if his body was truer to his name. He slowly turned to look over at the blonde, sitting on the ground not even a yard away with his legs pulled up to his chest and his face buried up to his nose in his crossed arms atop his knees. Today hadn’t been a bad one honestly, nobody had come to claim Vash’s bounty, nor in the town they had left that morning were they recognized. They were in a walking stretch, Angelina III giving out the week prior but it wasn't horrible or unfamiliar territory. They had not sustained any major losses or reminders at all that day, it had been nice almost frankly.

Yet with how small Vash looked curled up beside him, Wolfwood felt at a loss for proper words. He looked fucking miserable, to be honest. Not quite sad just… everything about him looked and felt run down. Part of Wolfwood thought it was about damn time he let himself feel as ragged as watching how he lived felt, but in this moment actually seeing it unguarded for once felt…off, wrong. Wolfwood plastered on a good naturedly smirk and offered a weak chuckle, trying to glaze over the moment, afraid something delicate would break if he didn't tread lightly here.

“Hey now, my cooking isn't so bad and we’ll be in a town again in no more than a couple days if we keep up a good pace.” 

He tried to keep his tone flippant and light, like he was distracted not as if his attention and body weren't both wired up now keeping attention to any actions or words the other had. In response, Vash merely shook his head, his arms hiding a grimace on his lips as he grit his teeth. Wolfwood waited a few beats before returning to root through the bag, looking to get his original target to at least give off the impression he wasn't stalling and really was casually setting up dinner. He squinted to read the label on the can once he’d drudged it out from the bag, tilting his head a bit to better catch the fire light. 

“Now let’s see…oh now this is a score, you found tortilla soup back there? See, that’s pretty nice right?” He was talking out his ass, he knew it was obvious. But talking felt better than the silence, it put a distance between what he didn’t know how to address and moving through the evening to tomorrow. Hell, maybe they just wouldn't talk about it, wouldn't that be easy and nice? Wolfwood was a coward, he knew that. When it came to things he couldn't use his hands or the punisher for he was at a loss, too carved sharp from the life he’d lived so long having lost most of the real gentleness he had in exchange for a pretty good cover act he usually reserved for women and children to get information and the odd favor.

He set up their little hanging cooking put on its sticks above the fire and dumped the can of soup into it. Stoking the fire a little, he moved to sit not quite next to Vash, but maybe a foot to his right and kept his eyes on their dinner instead for lack of better focus. Now with both his task and his companion, he was caught in a place of quietly waiting. And so he did. It could have been moments or minutes, but Vash had taken the quiet as some kind of invitation and had simply let himself slump to the side up against Wolfwood's shoulder and upper arm. His legs were still drawn in but he turned his foot to be planted so the priest didn't take his entire weight, but it was still more than he was expecting and he reflexively gave out an “oof!”.

Vash kept his gaze downwards, but his position no longer supporting his arms he made to hug himself, his face more visible as proximity didn't allow him to truly hide behind his high collar. Wolfwood, unable to avoid him now, finally looked over at his charge proper for the first time since his small voiced confession. He was quick to notice normally pale lips now looked red and rough, like they’d been bitten through or gnawed on. Wolfwood sighed, scooching closer to Vash so their hips grazed each other, making the lean for the blonde a bit less dramatic and uncomfortable. Vash let himself be adjusted, resettling higher up on Wolfwood's shoulder proper pressing his cheek against the other man, his hair now tickling at Wolfwood's neck but not enough for him to do anything about it.

“Nick?”

“Hm?”

A pause.

“What do you do when…when it hurts for so long that you just stop feeling it anymore?”

Wolfwood’s brows furrowed at the question, unsure how to approach. “Are your scars acting up again?”

Vash hummed noncommittally, “Kind of.” He sounded unsure of his own answer, and Wolfwood could feel him working his jaw back and forth against his shoulder.

“Needle Noggin?”

“I think… I realized how much it hurt, and how long I've been hurting and…,” he paused, taking a deep breath as he turned his head to press his temple into the harder edge of his shoulder. “God, Nicholas, I'm so old and it never stops. It’s just the same thing every day and I keep moving forward but it doesn't matter, does it? I’ve walked every step of this entire planet at least once and yet I still keep walking, the only other constant is-...Does he hurt like this? Do you humans hurt like this? Is it like dying stars for you all, more painful but much faster until you just die?”

Wolfwood felt utterly gutted, like he’d been cut open and everything he had was spilling out instead of one of the most earnest admissions he had ever gotten from his companion. His voice had sounded so damn tired, not in a way anyone like Wolfwood could understand he didn't think. No, he was reminded how much the man beside him wasn't a man but a being, a creature much older than anyone else on this planet aside from the one who completed his matching set. And oh how this creature had suffered, open arms and warm smile rejected endlessly and punished. Had it always been like that, had there been no time truly that humans had returned Vash’s love? No, Wolfwood supposed not, human nature wouldn't change just because of a new planet just like that, no maybe because they were it was like a return to the primal selfishness that humanity had within them. To act otherwise was an active choice, and who would do so in favor of survival even at the cost of others?

Wolfwood reached around Vash and twisted until he could get both his arms securely around the blonde. With his grip sure, he tugged until he had pulled him over into his lap and, once sitting there with long legs awkwardly tucking up to trap Wolfwood's arm around his charge, he pressed Vash against his chest. 

“Wolfwood?”

“Hush. Just sit here.”

He did not. “Ever since we started traveling together, I imagined it would be you who finally killed me.”

“Needle Noggin,” he warned.

“Would you? Kill me?”

“Vash!”

“Please? When everything is said and done, would you do that for me?”

Wolfwood screwed his eyes tightly shut, hugging the man in his arms probably far too tight for any comfort but he was never told to stop. “NO! I WON’T! I DON’T WANT TO!”

Vash smiled, a hollow gesture that made Wolfwood feel nauseous.

“Is that how it is…”

“It is! That is how it fuckin’ is, because we’re gonna live through the end of this and then im dragging your ass to December with me even if its kicking and screaming. And when we’re there, you’re not leaving anywhere without me to make sure you don't get your stupid ass killed just like it has been! This is how it is now!” His voice was grit through teeth in a harsh snarl, he could feel his lips peeled back and something guttural threatening to tear through his throat. He exhaled heavily through his nose, trying to keep it at bay before pressing onwards.

“You’re gonna love those kids, and they’re gonna climb all over you and beat you up until you cry. Miss Melanie is going to constantly scold you and you’re gonna duck your head and give her that stupid smile every time and then you’re gonna help us take care of all of the little brats we end up with and when it's over every day we-we’ll…we’ll just….we’ll do it again the next day, and the day after that.”

Wolfwood was losing steam; he had never believed he’d get far enough really do all that, he never believed either of them would survive this stupid mission, but he couldn't listen to this being who radiated hope and love for humanity just…beg him so softly to be killed just so he could finally rest. He wouldn't take any part in a mercy killing, he was the punisher and that was the killing he would do. And Vash….Vash had been punished for living more than enough. And so he firmly painted this picture of a future he didn't ever think could be real, willing one of them to believe in it as he spoke and not caring much which of them it was. He told him about the kids he could recall being there when he left, all the stupid chore they’d both be sent to do every day, how shit the beds were in the room they’d inevitably share to keep as much space for the kids available, he told him what December was like, he just kept talking until he ran out of things he could put into words. 

He resisted the urge to pant, feeling out of breath from his nonstop rambling about a life he had never hoped for before this very moment. As he sat there, clinging and breathing and just feeling, he idly thought how the soup he’d put on the fire was certainly burned. They’d still eat it anyways, of course. Lost in his scattered thoughts, he almost missed the oh so small voice in his lap, but he was quick to whip around to look down at blonde spikes and imagine what startling blue eyes looked like.

“Okay.”

“Okay?”

He felt a nod against his chest.

“That’s how it is now…” It felt less like a response for Wolfwood so much as feeling words in his mouth, but whether giving in as a defeat or genuine belief and acceptance, Wolfwood didn't care. He would cling to it as fiercely as he clung to their owner in his arms right now. 

Yes, Wolfwood was a coward.

He was painfully human.

And oh how selfish he was.

To cling to the very person he was to lead into death, to refuse him release even in the inevitability of both their horrible painful miserable ends. Playing roles in a story neither wanted to tell, they had no real choices before them did they? But even still, Wolfwood wouldn't let Vash just give up and leave him. He didn't allow it in Augusta, and he wouldn't now either, and to say it was for simply his orders and contract and not the memory of surprisingly soft hair against his skin and a too light body in his grip? 

Well that would make Wolfwood a liar too wouldn't it?