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satanicspinosaurus · 1 year ago

Text

No Effort Without Error

Tags: hurt/ comfort, established relationship, post-game, Astarion X G/N Tav, they/them pronouns, bard!Tav, BDSM, kink negotiations, scene negotiations, sub Astarion, enthusiastic consent, collaring, accidental triggering, freeze trauma response, trauma spiral self-narration, confusion between abuser and partner, use of safeword, use of safeword by Dom, supportive partner, aftercare, use of mage hand to respect boundaries, Addams family reference, talking through emotions, author tried to do some themes or something, author’s happily married & wants you to know that having severe trauma doesn’t mean you can’t have a happy relationship, author/Tav believes in people’s ability to grow, Astarion is in process of agreeing, Tav started out as kind of a blank slank character and ooops I contextualized them, kissing

Length: 4k

Rating: Mature

Read on A03: here.

Summary: Astarion is accidentally triggered in a scene, after being really excited about trying something new, and Tav provides comfort as they reaffirm their relationship. I’ve tried to tag everything, but if you have questions please just shoot me a message. I’m always happy to try and help people engage with challenging media.

With thanks: To the wonderful @just-a-refrigerator for proof-reading this! It was incredibly helpful during writing to know I’d have a pair of eyeballs to comb this over before it went out. You are amazing and helped me grow as a writer. (And a general thanks to the Astarion Brainrot Discord Server. You all are feral and I love it.🖤)

•── ⋆⋅☾☆☽⋅⋆ ──•

A bard was a solid choice for a traveling companion, Astarion reasoned, if one’s goal was to start living again. He and Tav had spent only a short amount of time in Baldur’s Gate before hitting the road again. They were eager to find out what fortunes and wonders lay ahead of them as they chased a solution to the sunshine problem.

Their time together since the Nautiloid crash had been enriching in more ways than just coin. Tav’s ability to entertain patrons and convince Innkeepers to allow the couple to stay for free was instrumental in keeping them in finer beds. Astarion also never missed an opportunity to joke about Tav’s sword swallowing ability after the crowd finished cheering. In part because the bard never took it as an actual advance.

Maybe that was what made it easy to be in their company. The understanding that one could play a role without it touching something deep or hidden in them. Sometimes, beautiful people just wanted to lay down innuendo without it being leveraged as a secret sign of trauma against them. Tav would just chuckle, as they did today, and escort Astarion to their accommodations.

The door opened without protest. With a quick flick of the wrist, Tav was shucking off layers and handing them to the mage hand they had dubbed Thing. The little clawed creature didn’t seem to loyally return after dropping Tav’s weapons in the corner, instead cheekily hovering by Astarion and gesturing to help him with his coat. Astarion didn’t really buy that Thing was its own being, like the bard liked to claim. But the little helpful gestures it did touched him enough to have even the snippy vampire giving a polite nod of thanks as Thing ferried his coat away for him.

“What do you think of the room?” Tav asked as they pulled off their boots, eyeing them carefully for wear.

Astarion looked around and shrugged. It was acceptable. Probably the best Inn this middling city had. “It has a private bath.” he eventually surmised. “And art that doesn’t immediately make me want to claw my eyes out.”

Tav made a soft sound of acknowledgment. “I might drop off my shoes to the cobbler tomorrow, then. I do not like how this heel is feeling.”

“We should offload some of the plunder,” Astarion added. “It’s been a while and I don’t want to risk anything.”

The new bag of holding was a Godsend really, but Astarion wasn’t eager to overload it and send its contents into the Astral plane. Considering how sticky both of their hands were, it was a real possibility.

“What do we even have in there now?” Tav asked. “Maybe just start with jewelry? I saw some sign in Elvish saying there was a jeweler’s when we came in today. They would give you a good price.”

Astarion snorted. Tav was shameless about flirting their way to profit. They treated it like combat: sometimes, the pale elf would be irresistible and wildly effective. Other times, Tav would draw the spotlight to themselves and handle it solo.

He retrieved the leather bag from the closet, and undid the closure with ease. He tipped over the enchanted leather, bidding it to dump all the jewelry it contained onto the bed. A hodge-podge of trinkets and amulets rained down. Rings so heavy they pressed into the sheets, a fine wrought golden belt of coins, and some uncut gems topped their little hoard of treasure. Astarion had already begun looking through the pieces when, after a small pause, the bag deposited a dog collar with a detailed metal tag onto the bed.

Tav chuckled, “I suppose the bag thinks we could get coin for the tag.”

They picked it up and turned it over in their hand. It was fine dark dyed leather, with matching lambskin on the interior. Something a noble would commission for a beloved pet. Perhaps a dalmatian, considering the use of contrast white stitching and its generous size. It had been a bizarre find, part of a cache they hurriedly pushed into the bag a few weeks ago. They had completely forgotten about it an hour later, when Astarion’s knife found the back of an Oathbreaker and failed to kill her instantly.

Astarion glanced over. “It won’t sell for much,” he said in a fairly measured tone. “Not compared to the rest.”

The lack of lilt made Tav perk up and flick their brown eyes over to Astarion. A few months ago, perhaps, he would have busied himself. Made a show of checking over other items to hide from the thoughts that had bubbled up into his head. But things were different now. The two of them had history. Trust was building.Those thoughts didn’t have to live in the shadows anymore.

It was clear he was thinking of other uses for it.

“I suppose it would look rather dashing on me,” Tav offered.

They brushed aside a few dreads from their neck, enjoying the way Astarion looked over the exposed area with a specific type of hunger. But when Tav brought up the collar to loosely display it, the vampire paused.

“Of course, my dear,” he finally agreed. “But I thought perhaps- I could try it this time?”

Tav lit up at the way a soft blush tinged Astarion’s ears. Neither of them had many direct restrictions on playtime. Both of them were fairly consummate omnivores when it came to that sort of desire. Between them, though, Astarion tended to default to being active and in control. But recently, his need to be in control had given way to a need to enjoy life.

Tav nodded, letting a warm smile bloom on their face. “What are you thinking?” they asked, holding onto the collar for the moment.

“We don’t have any other obligations for the night,” Astarion pointed out. “It could be…fun to have all my needs taken care of for me.”

They had done that a few times, but in reverse. Astarion really could be quite sweet and giving when no one was watching. He was also shameless at times. He enjoyed forcing his love to eat from the ground, then pull the make-shift leash forward to allow them to use their mouth a bit higher up.

“I would enjoy that,” Tav said. “Anything specific?”

Astarion was already tossing the other items back into the bag. He was eager, thinking of the last time he had allowed himself to submit to Tav’s creativity and generosity in bed.

“Feed me, clean me, and bed me,” he listed out. “Tell me when I’ve been good but also don’t be afraid to pull me around by the ring on the collar if I’m not.”

“Anything else if you are naughty?” Tav pressed.

“No kicks,” Astarion added quickly. “I don’t mind a light spanking, but I don’t want to be back handed tonight.”

Tav reached out and offered a hand for Astarion to nuzzle into. They noticed that the elf let his ear brush their hand, and they took up the implicit offer to gently stroke the base- delighting in the little shiver it caused.

“You want to be my beloved pet tonight.” Tav summarized. “You want to submit and to be cared for and to feel how you are the center of my world.”

They could feel Astarion beginning to melt into them, trusting the weight of his head into their hand. Tav kept stroking that delicate piece of flesh and delighting in how it made him hood his eyes in pleasure.

“Unfair,” Astarion whined with no true complaint in his heart. “I think you’ve already started.”

Tav chuckled, as if they were afraid too loud of a sound would spook their lover’s relaxation. “Don’t tell anyone- but I am quite fond of you. It is embarrassing really. It used to be a part time hobby, but I do believe I’ve gone at least to full time now.”

Maybe traveling with Tav was easy, because they brought laughter to Astarion’s world. From gallows humor to little moments like this- where the two of them brushed fingers together and laughed quietly about how absurdly cheesy it all was.

It was a sound that had begun to settle in Astarion’s bones.

“Well, let me strip first, before you start,” Astarion eventually said. “Keep yours on for now.”

Tav rolled their eyes as Astarion began husking off layers. “Bossy little thing,” they laughed, shaking their head theatrically enough their earring tinkled in agreement.

“Oh, but think about how wonderful I’ll be, properly trained,” Astarion said as he struggled to unlace his pants. A clear bulge was making the task more difficult.

“Might have to commission a matching leash then,” Tav mused. “I bet you would look so lovely crawling up to me.”

“Ugh, stop winding me up. At least until I’m out of these damned pants,” Astarion complained like he hadn’t told the tailor to make them this tight. “Damn things look good, but I regret them every time I have to take them off.”

Tav chuckled, but obeyed the request- delighting in watching his lover squirm out of very tight trousers on the ground, his thick thighs working against him half the time. There wasn’t an inch of Astarion they didn’t adore, but in that moment it was hard not to think about how deliciously long his legs were- how many wonderful options they offered for Tav to touch and nibble on.

Eventually, smallclothes went flying. All that was left was one very excited vampire kneeling in front of Tav. The delicious blush on his chest wasn’t even remotely the only visual example of his excitement. But it was glorious to think how that tinge on his pale chest was only possible because Astarion was fed well enough. For Tav to realize that they were responsible for both the physical ability to do so and the emotions that inspired it.

“What’s your word, love?” they asked.

For a while the vampire had sassed them each time they had asked. But now it was just part of the game. It inspired anticipation. Like an orchestra tuning up to let the audience know the show was about to start.

“Goose,” Astarion replied, preening under the nod Tav gave them.

“Alright then, my pet,” Tav said, holding out the collar. “Just lean forward, let me collar you, and we will begin.”

The lining felt pleasantly soft on Astarion’s skin. He helped Tav place it on him by eagerly offering his neck. The bard’s nimble fingers latched it, then slipped between Astarion’s throat and the collar to check for fit.

The second that finger left, moving upwards with its friends to run through his curls with all the affection he knew Tav had for him, Astarion realized how cold the room was.

“Look at you, my good boy,” Tav murmured. They focused on gently using their long nails to scratch at Astarion’s scalp in a way that usually sent tingles down his spine.

His body did move- shaking on little of its own accord. The weight of the collar was pressing down on him, trapping him in his own skin and away from the moment. Something in his brain whispered not to blink, not to look away- something was coming. Something bad. He was trapped, but at least he could have the privilege of watching it hurt him. But only if he didn’t close his eyes.

“Astarion?”

The sound was a little muffled, a little nasally. He needed to respond, right? Those were his the rules. He had to obey in all things; he was his? Theirs? To have your name called was a direct command to look. He needed to look at him them.

But Astarion couldn’t force his neck to turn, to face the situation. To realize the gravity of it all. The knowledge that pain would come, that it would be his fault because he still couldn’t look, turned the fine shivers into full tremors.

“Alright. OK. This is OK,” came the voice. “I’m going to use ‘goose’. I’ll keep you safe Astarion. I promise.”

Dissociation was a thing Astarion still struggled with. This was the opposite of that, somehow. He wasn’t far away, present but not here- safe in a manner of speaking by retreating into his own mind. No, he was nailed to the spot, trapped under the surface of his skin- forced to feel, to accept, but not to act.

He was entombed in his own body. His only company was the fear of being left to suffer.

“This needs to come off,” he heard, the voice sounding like it was coming through gauze. “I am going to use my hands to take this off you, Astarion. You might feel it press on the back of your neck for a second.”

The weight lifted away, the sound of the tag sickly singing as it was tossed to some other corner of the room. He was supposed to breathe, right?

“Do you want me to touch you, Astarion?”

The thought of being trapped, being forced to be complicit in his own abuse, sent a spark of anger up into his mouth. But it was fanned by a vague feeling that he could speak his mind without fear of being slapped down.

“No,” Astarion hissed. “Get away from me!”

He needed space. He needed to feel he was at least as big as the body that trapped him.

“Of course. Of course love, I will not touch you until you tell me to,” came the calm response. “You are shivering. Do you want a blanket?”

Was he? Astarion looked down. His eyes struggled to focus on a hand. His hand, he remembered as he flexed it. Yes, it was shaking. His gaze wandered up the arm his hand was attached to.The forearm was goose-fleshed.

“Yes,” he decided. “I want to be warm.”

The smell of familiar magic- rose oil and iron- filled the room. There were some assorted sounds- footsteps, pillows hitting the ground- and then a familiar shadowy hand presented a quilt it could barely hold in its claws.

“Thing can help you put it on, if you want Astarion,” offered the bard.

Astarion nodded. Thing T. Thing was a familiar, safe sight now. It was always gentle, as it was now, laying the blanket onto his shoulders but bearing the weight so Astarion could sort it out the way he wanted it- creating a barrier between him and the world.

“Thank you, Thing,” he replied automatically.

The room came back to him after a few minutes. It wasn’t exactly fair to say it left, but it took time for his brain to be able to accept and process the world around him instead of hyper-fixating on keeping himself alive. He had to consciously realize that there was ground for him to be sitting on. That the ground probably came with a ceiling as there was no free-moving air.

Eventually, he realized there was also the gentle sound of a violin, singing a song.

It was one with no words Just swimming melodies, occasionally crowned by a happy chord. It helped Astarion remember. He’d heard an elven mother humming it to her child a few moons ago, as the babe cried from the pain of teeth coming in. He automatically focused on it. Tav asked him if he knew it, and Astarion had responded honestly- all of that was lost to him now. But he liked how comforting it sounded.

Weeks later, when Astarion was having trouble resting during the peak of the day while the rest of their temporary party laughed in the sun, Tav sat next to him and, without a word, began playing it.

Maybe that was why traveling with Tav was so easy. They were confident of their own beautiful voice- able to hold a room and charm even frigid, scared hearts that had long since stopped beating to movement. But they were also comfortable around others' painful silence, welcoming it like an old lover- with an open heart and a compliment that was somehow always genuine.

It had worn on Astarion for a long time, waiting for the bard to blink and finally admit they were in over their head- that the would-be savior’s reach had finally exceeded their grasp. But eventually, Tav showed him their own scars. He had lifted his hand to a small one on their right eyebrow and cheek. The first one. One that even Astarion’s clever eyes could barely see.

Eventually Astarion learned they kept their eyes kind and open, not because they didn’t know what danger was, but in spite of it.

Maybe that’s why it was so easy traveling with Tav. Because, somewhere along the way, Astarion had figured out their hero persona had cracks. Cracks they had delicately, skillfully tried to cover. Cracks he could help smooth out sometimes, when someone misgendered them or an enemy carried a whip. Cracks that, deep down, under the near unshakeable confidence performers have, Tav feared made them unlovable. But Astarion could say those cracks were nothing compared to their jovial spirit or clever eyes.

Astarion yearned for those warm, brown eyes. The kind that reminded him of dark soil deep in the forest, filled with all the richness and potential of creation. Speckled with a million curiosities that shallow people might miss by focusing on the strong cheekbones or soft lips nearby. He found them waiting for him, like always, hopeful they could be of any service.

“I want you to touch me, Tav,” Astarion realized out loud.

The bard laid their violin down and tapped the bed, offering the space. “It might do you some good to move your limbs,” they suggested. “But I am always happy to come to you.”

Astarion looked at the ground. Yes, he could move. The walls weren’t quite so close to prevent that. The floorboards creaked in protest as he dragged himself and his blanket over them.

He sank into the bed, deciding to lean on Tav’s shoulder. Maybe it helped a bit to realize this pinned down one of their arms- keeping them close, but less able to respond. It was grounding to remember that so many things were on Astarion’s terms now. Yes, because he was free.

But also because Tav was gentle and would never deny him a single comfort.

Little thoughts began to swim in his head- phrases he could pluck from the ether and begin a conversation with. I didn’t know, please believe me. I am sorry, please don’t punish me. Please don’t leave me. Please promise you’ll trust me again when I say I want this. Please tell me I am not broken.

Please, please, please- a choir of hungry ghosts that had long grown tired of asking to have not been hurt, and instead found smaller and smaller requests to be disappointed on. Until Tav came in with their bleeding heart, and fed them so graciously Astarion could begin to remember they were just specters he carried- and not him.

Astarion didn’t have to bargain with them. He suspected they would always be there. But now he could let them rest and find other things to play with that would nourish his soul.

“I really wanted it,” Astarion finally said, after his hand traced patterns on Tav’s thigh for a few minutes.

“I know,” Tav agreed. “You’ve gotten very good at asking for things and letting yourself have them.”

The bard paused and offered their palm. “May I kiss you?”

They smiled when Astarion granted them the privilege of a hand, bowing their head to press a slow kiss on the back of his hand.

“Thank you for being honest with me,” they said, not having moved an inch. Their breath was warm as they spoke, fluttering on Astarion’s hand.

There was something about the way they said it, that Astarion instantly knew they meant after he had been collared. He frowned, not sure how to take it.

Astarion didn’t want to think the truest core of him was scared. That if someone unearthed him, or that if he let someone dig deep, there would be only fear and broken things to find.

“I don’t know if I want you to think of me like that,” he began. “Like some cold and timid person, half ready to cry when he’s finally, truly naked.”

Tav sat back up, offering for Astarion to reclaim his resting spot on their shoulder or duck under and be held close. The elf chose the latter, enjoying the space between ribs and arms made strong by swordplay and silly acrobatics.

“I do not think of you like that.” Tav promised.

Astarion accepted the answer- a simple negative that painted him as so many other wonderful things that even Tav’s silver tongue couldn’t explain. The bard was so trusting towards him, at times it was infectious.

A thought tickled Astarion’s brain.

“Thank you for using the safeword,” he mumbled. “It’s good to know that it’s not that I wasn’t being pleasing enough for you. But that…maybe me being truly hurt wasn’t something you wanted.”

Tav showed their other hand coming slowly to join the other one- pausing, giving Astarion a chance to defend his space- to deny being boxed in, even by affection, if it was unwanted.

“I hear vampires are long-lived,” Tav eventually said. “I would suspect that given our adventurousness, it will not be the last time one of us has to use it. Even if you never wanted to do anything like that again, I want you to know that you can always tell me to stop.”

Astarion hummed, accepting the point. He chewed on it though, especially the last sentence.

“I don’t think you exactly need a safeword for life,” he retorted.

Tav laughed, clear and bright. “Your passions are too great, Astarion, to be content with what is laid at your feet. That is one of the things I love about you. You go for life’s throat, even if you might stumble in the process.”

There was mirth in their eyes as they thought about some future Astarion couldn’t really see. “I just want you to chase it as hard as you can. You know I’ll be here to try and catch you when you ask for it.”

They stayed like that for a while- Astarion enjoying the way Tav just breathed, their ribs slightly pressing into him with each breath. His eyes wandered, surveying the room. The way Thing rested in the corner, eager to be called upon. The happy trail of his own clothes strewn on the floor. The way the collar rested on the nightstand- far enough away to be safe, but precious enough to deserve a proper spot.

He would have to think later if this was a failure or not. Something deep in his gut churned, insisting it was. Astarion wasn’t sure if he wanted to listen to it. But the way Tav held him in the moment, devoted and without reservation- he knew this was safe.

Astarion leaned to catch his beloved's mouth, to taste their enthusiasm, their softness as Tav allowed him to devour them- trusting him to take the lead and find joy for them both in the fragile, uneasy moment.

Maybe that was why traveling with Tav was simple. Because they knew their love was a verb, and not something that was found in a single heart. It was not something that could be tainted by a single word, or broken by even a terrifyingly, truly unintentional slight.

It was something they did together- even if they sometimes accidentally stumbled in the process.

One of them got to be the first person that hour to say I love you. And the other one got to smile and chose to say it back.

⋆˖⁺‧₊☽◯☾₊‧⁺˖⋆

Author Notes: Thank you for reading this! As always, I would like to remind you thirsty folks to hydrate a bit if needed. :3 I’d also love to hear if you had any comments or thoughts about this piece. (Good or bad! If something didn’t hit, let me know.) Also- just curious if you HCed which person said “I love you first” (and why) I would love to hear about it. I do have a small follow-up planned thanks to our Discord talking about *boots* that will be in a similar vibe. And one about Tav having their own issues for Astarion to help them on! I didn’t plan to add another, usual character to my WIP list, but this they/them bard!Tav was super fun to write.

#astarion #bg3 astarion #astarion x tav #fanfic #SpinoWrites #kink is cool and fun #author rejects the idea that people are broken #author wants you to keep growing

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kumeko · 2 months ago

Text

A/N: For the @vashwood-anthology! I wanted to do a bit more of a comedic piece for Vashwood, though Trigun being trigon, angst still found its way in…This story fought me so much along the way, I wasn’t fully settled on how to end it and every time I reread the story I kept adding scenes.

Which is not a good thing with a word count. XD I’m not sure if I’m fully satisfied with it yet, but if I read it again…who knows how much more I’ll add. XD

I'm so glad I got to work with the amazing @wisedo for this piece! Their art is perfect and so comedically on point <3

…

Nicholas had a stalker.

Probably.

Leaning back in his plastic chair, his feet on a tiny fold-out table, Nicholas slurped loudly from his slushie as he studied his surroundings. Fortunately, the food court was packed with people, so no one was paying attention to him—

“Mom! He’s putting his feet on the table!”

“And if you act like that, Santa won’t be giving you any presents.”

—most people weren’t paying attention to him. Awkwardly, Nicholas put his feet down before anyone else wandered by.

For the most part, he was surrounded by strangers. It made sense: he was a traveller who hadn’t been in the city for more than a few days. It’d be odder if he had recognized anyone here. That was how it was in most cities he’d visited—Nicholas made his living as a travelling handy-man, an entertaining busker, an overly relaxed priest. Whatever paid the bills as he spent his days wandering from town to town.

His eyes landed on a familiar, spiky-haired blond.

Familiar. That was the problem here. While the man was scarfing down donuts like he was competing in an eating contest, not paying attention to Nicholas in the least, he was the epitome of suspicious. It was rare enough for Nicholas to meet anyone twice, let alone thrice, and this was the fifth time he’d spotted that particular hedgehog of hair.

Hence, he was ninety-percent certain he was being stalked.

This required investigation. Nicholas smirked as he noisily sucked his straw. With how sloppy the guy was, it would be easy enough to trap him.

“Dad, there’s nothing in his cup anymore!”

“Shh, honey, inflation’s hitting hard these days.”

…maybe he should find a more discrete place to capture the stalker.

-x-

Nicholas tugged his collar, trying to fan in a little air onto his neck. Most people would question why he’d take up buskering of all things in a suit, and they would be right. It was a stupid idea. He regretted it entirely. Between the heat and how it impaired his movements, it would have been better to wear literally anything else.

Unfortunately, all he owned were suits. At least he didn’t have a single tie, or he’d really be dying.

Flipping a dagger between his fingers, Nicholas put on his widest smile and called out, “I can hit anything!” After a pause, he added. “Great with daggers and funerals!”

It was a terrible sales pitch. He couldn’t really blame people for continuing to stream past him. His last few attempts were equally pitiful and the small white paper cup in front of him was as empty as ever. All it’d take was a little wind and it’d roll down the street, along with his last two quarters.

He’d need a more innovative speech. He’d need—

The blonde stranger was here too. Nicholas narrowed his eyes. Purposely ignoring his gaze, the stranger paced back and forth further down the street as he deftly juggled five balls. Once, Nicholas had done a stint as a circus clown and anything past 4 items was harder than it looked. The dirty hat in front of stranger looked just as empty as Nicholas’ cup.

Nicholas grinned. Maybe he could get two birds with one stone.

Slowly, he sauntered over, each step deliberate and slow. The blonde tensed slightly when Nicholas stopped in front of him, unable to completely mask his reaction.

So he did know Nicholas. Good. He didn’t want to accidentally harass a stranger. Nicholas called out, trying to keep the malice out of his voice, “Looks like you’re having just as hard a time as I am.”

Fortunately, the blonde didn’t pick up on his intentions. He glanced over his shoulder. Realizing no one was behind him, he stared at Nicholas in surprise. “Me?”

“Who else?” Nicholas rolled his eyes. If anything, judging by the bullet holes and dirt riddling the bottom of the stranger’s red jacket, he probably was having a worse time. While Nicholas had been chased out of a town or two, he’d never been in that much danger.

“Oh. Right.” The blonde chuckled and smiled sheepishly. He nodded, still juggling. The five colorful balls flew through the air like parts of a rainbow. “It’s a hard street.”

“It’d be easier if we worked together,” Nicholas suggested.

The blonde’s eyes widened slightly before he took the bait. Excited, he juggled faster. “Yeah! I’ve always wanted to do paired jugg—”

Nicholas smirked wolfishly before shouting, “Anyone want to see me throw a dagger at this guy?”

“—ling with—Wait, what?” The blonde froze and gaped at Nicholas like a fish out of water. Five balls bounced off his head like bullets. “You’re going to what?”

“It’ll be fine, I’ve done this before,” he assured his new ‘partner’. Already, a crowd had started to gather around them, mostly comprised of blood-thirsty children dragging their parents over. Even better; children were easy enough to entertain.

“It’s a challenge,” Nicholas said louder now, directed at the audience. He ignored the stalker’s pointed glare. ”I’ll put an apple on—what’s your name?”

“Vash,” Vash replied, forcing a smile when everyone stared at him.

“Vash’s head,” Nicholas continued. Now he had a name at least. “And then I’ll toss a dagger at it and try not to hit him.”

“What do you mean try!?” Vash shouted.

“It’s no big deal,” Nicholas whispered as he turned around. Digging in his knapsack, he pulled out an apple and tossed it at Vash. “Just make sure to stay still and it’ll work out.”

“You’ve done this before, right?” Vash asked, staring at the apple doubtfully.

Nicholas shrugged, unconcerned. “Once? I think.”

“Once?” Vash bit out. The audience had surrounded them at this point and there was no easy escape this time. “Wait, maybe we can find something else, less risky, like jugg—”

“People want to see knife-throwing.” Nicholas spun Vash around and shoved him forward. “Now, get a little further or people’ll think I cheated.”

It was like a scene from an old western: two men, twenty paces apart. Vash stood stock still, an apple on his head, his smile nervous as he watched Nicholas. For his part, Nicholas kept a hand on his waist, ready to draw his dagger, his eyes narrowed as he stared at the gleaming red skin of his target. Around them, a circle had formed. People murmured as they made bets on how many holes Vash would end up with.

A kid laughed. As though that was the secret signal he’d been waiting for, Nicholas quickly drew and tossed his dagger. The blade narrowly grazed Vash’s right cheek, cutting a thin red line, and to the man’s credit, he recoiled after that, the apple rolling off his head and landing on the sand with a soft thud as he clutched his cheek.

That was an act.

Nicholas had done enough scams to know when he was being played. There were many issues with Vash’s terrible acting, the biggest of which was the fact that he’d hadn’t flinched until after the dagger had missed him. Most people would have instinctively tried to dodge as soon as Nicholas had thrown the weapon.

Vash had known it wouldn’t hit him.

“That stings!” Vash yelped, gingerly petting the wound with the pads of his fingers. As he picked up the apple, he gazed teary-eyed at Nicholas. “You hit me!”

“Barely,” he replied, already twirling another dagger between his fingers as he waited for Vash to put the apple back in place. “It makes it more thrilling. The crowd gets a show.” He flicked another knife, this time grazing his ear. “So, why’re you following me?”

“I’m not!” Vash yelped as he dodged dagger number three. He jabbed at the apple that was miraculously still on his head. The crowd jeered, some of them yelling at him to just stay still and get hit. “The apple! Aim for the apple!”

“I am,” Nicholas lied, pulling out dagger number four. “And don’t lie—I’ve seen you before.”

“Really, you remember me?” Vash grinned stupidly before realizing what he’d just admitted. “Wait, I mean, I’ve seen one of your shows! I’m a fan!”

Nicholas scoffed, his eyes narrowing as he carefully held his blade between two fingers, his hand rocking back and forth as he aimed. If it had just been one show, he wouldn’t have recognized Vash at all. “Is that all?”

“It is!” Vash was a terrible liar. His eyes gave everything away.

Deliberately, Nicholas lowered his aim, the blade pointing at Vash’s crotch now. The crowd gasped expectantly. “You sure?”

Vash crouched and crossed his hands in front of his pants, tears forming in his eyes as he shouted, “I thought you were also going to the Octovern Busker Festival!”

Despite his fear, his voice had held steady. While it wasn’t the whole truth, it wasn’t a lie either. Nicholas sighed, relenting, and flicked his knife, sinking the blade into the apple.

-x-

The crowd had all dispersed, leaving behind a tin filled with stray coins, a nail, and two coupons. Nicholas grimaced as he shook the can. Nothing else fell out. Cheapskates. He glanced up at the very worn Vash. “So you’re lost.”

“Yes…” Vash rubbed his neck with a sheepish smile. He pulled out a crinkled poster from his pocket and handed it to Nicholas. “I’m not very good with directions.”

He sounded oddly proud of it. Nicholas rolled his eyes as he scanned the paper. He’d heard of the festival before. “And you didn’t think to ask anyone else?”

“Well…it’s embarrassing,” Vash admitted. So he knew that much at least. “I thought you’d also be going there…since, you busker.”

“And you couldn’t just ask instead of stalk?” Nicholas held out the handful of coins they’d earned. The people in this city were stingier than any other he’d been in. “I don’t even do that often—this barely paid for the apple.”

Vash gazed at the money, puzzled. “But it’s not about the money.”

Nicholas’s jaw dropped. “The hell it’s not about the money, money is—”

A kid ran between them, bumping into Nicholas. Nicholas caught a glimpse of the ragmuffin with her short, messy hair and dirt on her face as she mumbled an apology.

“Kids these days—” His hand felt light. Nicholas stared at his now-empty palm. His other hand instinctively patted his also now-empty pocket. Immediately, he jumped to his feet and swore. “Fuck.”

Slow to catch on, Vash stared at the girl as she turned a corner into an alley. “Huh?”

“She mugged me.” Nicholas sprinted forward. A suit was the worst thing to run in and not for the first time, he regretted his life choices. “GET BACK HERE!”

“But she’s so young!” Vash shouted as he chased after.

“It’s easier to slip unnoticed.” Nicholas barreled down the alley, catching a glimpse of the girl’s dirty shirt before she turned a corner. His armpits were damp, his pants complaining with each step, and he didn’t know if he could go any faster.

While he’d visited December once before, he’d never taken the side alleys before. It was like a maze of corridors back here, the streets getting narrower and grimier as the girl eluded his grasp. From the corner of his eye, he spotted several children poking their heads out of nooks and crannies, a hungry look in their faces that he had known himself long ago.

One kid stepped out of the shadows and threw a rock at him. “Leave her alone!”

Nicholas dodged. “She’s with you?”

“I think I’m even more lost,” Vash panted, almost running into the kid as he caught up. The startled kid yelped, stumbling over his feet. Vash grabbed his shoulders, steadying him. “Woah, careful there!”

“Let go of me!” The boy shouted, terrified. When Vash’s grip proved too strong to escape, he screamed, “HELP!”

The girl had almost vanished down a side street but pivoted at the sound. Fear in her eyes, she ran back. “Darian! Don’t hurt him!”

Perfect. Nicholas snatched her as she bolted past him, wrapping an arm around her waist and hoisting her up before she could escape. “Gotcha.”

She squirmed, her flailing limbs hitting his chin and sides. “Hey! Let go of me”!

“Just gimme a moment.” Nicholas wiped the sweat from his forehead and rubbed his jaw. With some training, she’d have a killer punch. The girl was like a wildcat, and he almost dropped her reflexively as she struggled in his grip. Meanwhile her accomplice had frozen stiff in front of Vash, too scared to even make a peep.

“You okay?” Vash asked, crouching in front of the kid and peering up with concern. “Did you get hurt?”

“Leave him alone!” the girl shouted again, her struggles increasing.

Two street urchins. Orphaned siblings, most likely. Nicholas had been there before, had seen it before. “Don’t bit me, kid,” he warned as he released her before she could throw another stray punch.

Scrambling to her feet, the girl ran to her brother and yanked him away from Vash. It was like looking at a cornered cat. His wallet was still tight in her grip.

Nicholas sighed. “Just try not to get caught next time.” Vash and the kids stared at him. Rolling his shoulders to get the crick out of them, he added, “The next guy won’t be as soft as me.”

“Nicholas…” Starry-eyed, Vash covered his mouth.

“I’m not giving this back,” the girl hissed.

“Don’t,” Nicholas agreed. “You need it more.”

The siblings looked at each other, communicating silently, before giving him one last suspicious squint. Then they bolted, shoving past Vash and disappearing into the slums. Nicholas watched them before feeling a shiver run up his back. Turning around, he found Vash still giving him that awestruck stare.

“You’re a lot kinder than you act.” Vash smiled.

It was a nice smile. Nicholas shrugged. “I’ve been there before.”

“Oh.” For some unfathomable reason, Vash’s smile flickered, misery clouding his eyes.

He didn’t know why, but he didn’t like it. “I’m better now,” Nicholas clarified. “And they can eat for a few days with what I had if they’re careful.” He turned his empty pockets inside out. “More than I can say for me. I need a drink.”

-x-

A drink did not solve his problems. In fact, they just made them worse—even if he hadn’t lost his wallet, the tab he’d opened was bigger than the amount he’d lost. For a twig of a man, Vash drank like a bottomless pit. No one would call Nicholas a lightweight, but even he was starting to feel it.

Maybe they could wash dishes here for the next three months to pay it off. There’s no way Vash was carrying enough to cover both of them.

Nicholas ran his finger over the rim of his mug. He shot Vash a disbelieving look. “How did you get nearly get mugged three times on the way here.”

“Oh, I…” Vash chuckled as he took a sip, his ears turning a fetching shade of red. “It’s a gift.”

“A curse,” Nicholas corrected. He elbowed Vash. First there was the little old lady crossing the street, then there was the kid with a cat stuck in a tree—Nicholas was certain that if they ran across a mother with a stroller, the baby would try to rob Vash next. “And that wasn’t a compliment. Do you really have to help everyone you meet?”

“Whyyyy not?” Vash slurred, putting down his now empty glass.

“Another one!” Nicholas ordered loudly, as though they weren’t at the bar with the bartender right across from them.

As though the bartender hadn’t been shooting them increasingly irate glares as the night wore on. “I should just cut you off,” she said.

Probably, but it was a matter of pride that Nicholas didn’t finish before Vash. “Another one!” he repeated, louder.

“Me too,” Vash cheered. He seemed drunk, but it was an act. It had to be. His hands were too steady to be anything but sober.

Disgruntled, the bartender reluctantly grabbed two more glasses. “Fine, but last one. Then you’re out.”

It reminded Nicholas of a song. “You don’t have to go home—”

“—but you can’t stay here,” Vash finished.

They stared at each other before bursting into laughter. Nicholas wiped the tears from his eyes. “You’re not half bad, for a stalker.”

“You’re amazing.” Vash clinked his glass against Nicholas’s.

Maybe he hadn’t been joking when he’d said he was a fan. And he certainly wasn’t dangerous in the least—no one could get attacked that many times without losing their temper, yet Vash had shrugged off everything that had happened him the past few hours. Whatever Vash was hiding, it couldn’t be anything bad.

“You’re exaggerating,” Nicholas muttered, downing his drink.

‘I’m not,” Vash replied quietly, oddly somber, oddly serious.

Before he could ask, the bartender slid a check between them. She tapped on the bill with a chewed-up fingernail. “Let’s settle up.”

Nicholas stared at the big red numbers. That felt like one too many 0s. Could he argue that? He had to argue that.

Before he could say anything, Vash reached for the bill, a smile on his face. “I’ve got this.”

It was like watching a trainwreck in slow motion. Vash’s hand reached into his pockets, his fingers fumbling in the space. He paled as he checked his other pocket, then his shoes, then the small sack by his feet. “It’s gone.”

Nicholas had a sinking feeling that the little boy from earlier hadn’t been as shell-shocked as he had acted. “What is?”

“My wallet…” Vash laughed awkwardly. “You think those kids took it? Guess they picked a better target, just like you asked.”

The bartender leaned forward, a dark glint in her eyes. Despite her short stature, her muscular arms screamed danger. “So you can’t pay?”

-x-

Nicholas had been poor before, had been penniless for years, but somehow he’d never felt as broke as he did right now, sitting on a bench in the middle of a park. The bartender had practically turned them into indentured labour for the next few weeks. His hotel had kicked him out. All he had was his knapsack now.

“It’ll be warm tonight,” Vash hummed, rocking back and forth as he leaned back and stared up at the stars. “Clear skies too.”

“That doesn’t make it better.” Nicholas watched him from the corner of his eye. All he had was a knapsack and this stranger who refused to leave. His head was killing him. The hangover was going to be even worse tomorrow. And he didn’t want to imagine how sore his body would be come morning.

He hated sleeping on benches.

“Better than a rainy, cold night,” Vash pointed out, sounding like he was speaking from experience.

He was right, though Nicholas didn’t want to admit it. “Marginally.”

Vash chuckled, shoulder bumping him. “You just want to complain.”

He was right about that too. Nicholas side-eyed him; in the short time he’d known Vash, he hadn’t seen a more cheerful man. “You’re too up-beat about this. You’re drunk.”

“Am not,” Vash retorted, kicking his feet. “And there’s nothing wrong with being happy.”

Nicholas should be angrier about this. He’d drank more than he realized too. “Sounds drunk to me.”

Vash shrugged, looking up at the night sky once more. “The stars are nice tonight.”

Nicholas peeked up. With the clouds hiding the moon, it was easier to see the billions of lights twinkling in the dark sky. “I guess.”

They sat there quietly before Vash muttered, “Sorry.”

That caught him off guard. Nicholas cocked his head. “Huh?”

“I…I messed things up.” Vash mumbled, slumping forward on his bag-turned-pillow. His expression was serious. “You should be sleeping in the hotel.”

“You are drunk.” When Vash didn’t say anything, Nicholas bit his cheek. Perhaps Vash had been too happy earlier, but now that he was somber, it bothered Nicholas more than he cared to admit. “It’s fine. It’s not like you’re the only one who was mugged.”

“But—”

“Seriously, it’s fine.” Nicholas propped his chin on his hand, studying Vash’s profile. Nothing about him felt like any of the other travellers Nicholas had met. “I’ve been in worse messes; it comes with the territory. Is this your first time?”

There was a long pause and Vash nodded. “Yeah, I haven’t travelled this far alone before.”

That didn’t surprise him. “Any special reason?”

A longer pause. “…I’m paying back a debt.”

“Debt?” Scrounging up spare change was perhaps the worst way to pay back anything. “And you’re doing this?”

The longest pause yet. Just when Nicholas was about to ask him again, Vash snored.

-x-

Nicholas had a head-splitting headache. His heart was beating a mile a minute and there was a strange queasy feeling in his stomach. Even his stiff back and sore neck couldn’t make his hangover go away and he’d run out of cigarettes. Nicholas rolled his shoulders, trying to get the crick out as he roamed the city.

He needed money.

Actually…Nicholas glanced at the blonde man walking beside him, looking as scruffy as he felt. The day-old stubble gave him a roguish appearance and he didn’t want to know how they both smelled.

They needed money.

Nicholas stuffed a hand in his pocket and his fingers grazed a crumpled piece of paper. Pulling it out, he unfurled it to reveal the poster Vash had given him earlier. Buskerfest. There was no better way to make money. And with a month left to go, there was plenty of time to find a way to get there.

Tapping on the paper, he turned to Vash. “Were you serious about this?”

“Uhh….” Vash stared at the paper owlishly before registering the question. “Yes?”

“Why are you saying it like a question?” Nicholas shot him a pointed look.

Vash rubbed the back of his neck and smiled sheepishly. “I mean, yes.”

It still sounded like a lie but he’d take it. “Fine,” he said. “Let’s do it.”

Vash lit up, his smile reaching his eyes. He leaned forward, clasping Nicholas’s hands tightly. “Really?”

Vash was far more excited than Nicholas had expected. He winced as his head throbbed, the lingering headache reminding him of just how much of a mess they got into last night. If he never drank again, it would be too soon. “Don’t think we have much of a choice here or we’re going to owe that bar for the rest of our lives.”

-x-

When they’d agreed to work for the bartender’s sister’s niece’s dog’s father-in-law’s burger joint as waiters, Nicholas knew what to expect. Hectic rush hours, annoying guests, a manager who was perhaps expecting them to dine and dash again.

His main worry now, however, was that they might end up owing more.

Or rather, that Vash would make them owe more.

“Do you really have to carry the plates like that?” Nicholas asked, a headache forming at the memory of the past few hours. It hadn’t been his first time as a waiter; he’d done more than his fair share to earn train tickets and their ilk.

However, it had been his first time seeing someone carry six plates and two cups. Vash only had two arms (Nicholas had checked. Twice) and yet he had insisted on carrying everything in one go. Precariously stacking the dishes in ways that resembled a wobbly tower, Vash had dashed from table to table, narrowly missing dropping a meal each time.

Maybe it had been a ploy to stay in this town for the rest of their lives. After all, they couldn’t leave if their debt eclipsed the moon.

“It’s quicker that way,” Vash replied as he eyed the empty pizza boxes around them with pursed lips. “Did you order pizza again?”

“There’s nothing else cheap to eat.” Nicholas shrugged as he plopped onto the singular clear spot on the couch. Between the odd jobs and the buskering, they’d managed to book a motel for the week. Shabby as it might be, it still had four walls and a roof and that was more than they could hope (afford) at the moment.

He gave a side-long glance at his partner. Despite his complaints, Vash hadn’t dropped anything. “I’m amazed you didn’t break anything.” Maybe they could sell it as a miracle and rack up the big donation bucks instead.

Vash grinned as he set down the empty pizza box. “It’s a gift!”

“Again, not a compliment.” Nicholas rubbed his forehead. The more time he spent worry about this, the less time he had to work on his own tasks. And in case Vash lost his ‘gift’, he’d need the money to repay every dish. “Whatever. You still got your money?”

“Yep!” Vash patted his pocket, checking it once more. “I can’t believe that old man’s cat actually tried to fish it out of my pocket.”

“I think I’ve seen a whole new world to scamming because of you.” And it was true, each hour they encountered a new trick. It was impressive, if tragic. Vash was like a magnet for trouble.

“Sorry.” Vash sat down beside Nicholas, slumping against the side of the couch as he sighed. “I’m just giving you more trouble.”

“You are,” Nicholas agreed whole-heartedly. “Work on it.”

Another sigh. Vash slumped even more. “Sorry.” Before Nicholas could say anything, he sprang up once more, like a dandelion after being stepped on. “I’ll do better tomorrow.”

“You really don’t let anything get you down, do you?” Nicholas shook his head, smiling wryly. “I don’t know if I should be impressed or annoyed.”

Vash stared at him with a growing grin. “You’re impressed?”

Annoyed. Annoyed was clearly the right answer. “You really only hear what you want to.”

-x-

Nicholas sighed as he lit the last of his cigarettes. Hopefully he’d be able to get some after today’s work. “C’mon, we’re going to be late.”

Vash buttoned up his jacket as he trailed after him. “You should get breakfast.”

Nicholas gestured at the stacks of pizza boxes in the room—the joint next door wasn’t just cheap, it stayed open late, and he’d never realized how hard it was to find a place like that before now. “There’s cold pizza if you’re hungry.”

“We had that yesterday.” Vash gave him a pitying look. “And the day before that. And the day before that.”

Nicholas bristled. “Hey, don’t make me out to be some sort of pizza addict.”

“You deserve so much better.” Vash sighed. Immediately, without even a second of hesitation, he whipped a donut out. “Here, have a donut!”

Nicholas had seen through plenty of magic tricks during his travels, but he had no idea where the sugary confection came from. A pocket? His sleeves? Another dimension? He stared at it, then at Vash. “How’s that better than pizza?”

Immediately, he regretted the question. Glowing, Vash grasped his chest with his free hand. “Taste. Size. Perception.”

And then he waxed poetic about the donuts until their shift at the restaurant that night.

-x-

They’d been living together for over a week, in debt for slightly longer, and Nicholas didn’t even want to guess how long he’d been stalked. Yet, despite it all, he could count on one hand just how much he knew about his chaotic roommate. It wasn’t like him, to not ask a question for this long.

It was strange.

And dangerous. As they chewed donuts (Vash had taken to alternating their meals between pizza and donuts, despite Nicholas’s protests) on the ratty couch, Nicholas said, “You suck at buskering.”

“Ouch.” Vash glared at him. “I’m not that bad.”

“You can’t survive on the streets. You are lucky the customers like you at the restaurant,” Nicholas continued, as though he didn’t hear him. He licked the jelly on his thumb as he studied the blonde man. “So, why are you doing this?”

“That…” For the first time since he’d known him, Vash looked uncomfortable at the question. He nibbled his donut, as though he’d find an answer in the powdered treat. After a few minutes, when it was clear that Nicholas wouldn’t let it go, he mumbled, “Well, I…”

Nicholas craned his neck, unable to catch his mumbled words. “You what?”

“I had…a job.” Vash stared at his donut, refusing to meet Nicholas’s eyes. “I fucked up.”

Ah, a firing. He’d met more than one vagabond with the same story. It wasn’t a surprise it was hard for the blonde to talk about it. Nicholas shrugged. “I’m not surprised.”

“I fucked up, badly,” Vash repeated, his hands trembling. “I keep trying to fix it and I can’t.”

Keep. Present tense. Perhaps less a firing and more a suspension? Yet again, it was unsettling to see Vash like this, looking small, looking pathetic. “But you’ll keep trying.”

“I have to,” Vash whispered, turning to stare him in the eye. “I have to.”

The intensity of his gaze took Nicholas’s breath away, though he couldn’t understand it. He cleared his throat, forcing himself to look away. “You’ll do better tomorrow,” he said, echoing Vash’s words from days prior.

Vash froze before breaking into a big smile. “Exactly. What about you?”

“Nothing that…dramatic,” Nicholas said with a shrug. “After I left the orphanage, I didn’t have anything I really wanted to do or anything tethering me anywhere so…why not? Travelling’s interesting.” He looked up to find Vash staring at him with watery eyes. Nicholas scowled. “Don’t give me that look, I’m fine.”

“But—”

Nicholas flicked his forehead. “I get to see new things and meet new people. There’s nothing to complain about."

“Still…it sounds lonely.” Vash dropped his donut and leaned forward on the couch. His sticky hand covered Nicholas’s. “What about friends?”

He was too close. Nicholas pulled back but Vash’s hand held firm, keeping him anchored there. “I’ve got a few in each town.”

Vash pressed, “Anyone you’re close to? Anyone you miss?”

“Not really.” Nicholas looked away. “It’s enough to visit every now and then.”

There was a pregnant pause.

“Like I said, I’m fine.”

Vash bit his lip thoughtfully before reaching up and patting Nicholas’s head. “You had it tough.”

It was oddly comforting. He wanted none of it. Nicholas swatted Vash away and pulled back. “That’s why I don’t get pickpocketed like you.”

“Hey!”

-x-

There were few ways to get to Octervan, and all of them involved passage on a ship. And boarding a ship required money; tickets were expensive even for the lowest class.

They needed two tickets.

It took a lot of scrimping, but Nicholas smirked as they stood in line to board the ship. “That was close; almost thought we wouldn’t make it.”

“I knew we would,” Vash replied with completely unfounded confidence, his hands on his hip as he craned his neck to stare up at the towering ship.

“We just need to be back in a week.” Nicholas glanced over his shoulder, half-fearful that the bar had sent goons after them. Technically speaking, they weren’t supposed to leave the city, but Nicholas had never been one to let technicalities stop him. “Or else we just never come back here.”

“That might be easier,” Vash admitted.

“It’d be far easier,” Nicholas agreed. “Should we?”

They turned, staring at each other, before bursting into laughter. Vash wiped the tears from his eyes as they joined the boarding cue. “You really think she’d let us go like that?”

“I think she has military connections.” Nicholas shivered, remembering the glint in the bartender’s eyes, the absolute certainty she had that they’d be paying. “Don’t even want to imagine who she’d send after us.”

“You don’t think she’d send someone now?” Vash whispered, squinting suspiciously at everyone passing by.

“No? I hope not. You can’t get money off a dead guy.” Nicholas nudged Vash as they reached the front of the line. He pulled out his id. “Get the tickets ready.”

“What if she makes us close to dead?” Vash reached into his pockets.

“We still won’t be able to pay.” Nicholas smiled winningly at the woman holding a clipboard in front of them. She flushed as she took his id.

“And the tickets?” she asked, handing it back.

“Vash—” Nicholas cut himself off.

Panicked, Vash patted all of his pockets—once, twice, thrice. He took off a boot, turning it upside down and shaking it. A feather fell out. Quickly, he took off his pack and knelt, opening every zipper and searching. “Just…It’s here, just a second. I know it’s here.”

Had he been pickpocketed? Again? Nicholas had a sinking feeling that the answer to that was a resounding yes.

“Are you serious?” he groaned.

“I’ll find it,” Vash replied desperately, emptying out his bag.

Behind them, the line murmured impatiently. The crew member attending them frowned, suspicious. There wasn’t much time to salvage this, if he even could. Forcing his nicest smile, Nicholas leaned forward and purred, “I don’t suppose you’re hiring?”

-x-

Nicholas had always had terrible luck, but he’d more than learned how to compensate for that with charm. While the woman hadn’t looked amused, he and Vash had gotten hired and that more than counted as a win in his books.

The work they had to do…not so much. Nicholas grunted as he lifted yet another heavy crate—whatever the first class passengers were packing, they definitely didn’t need. Instead of crew, the ship needed a herd of elephants to move all of this.

“You’ve got this,” Vash encouraged, swaying back and forth as he carried his crate. Despite his big show of effort, he wasn’t breathless in the least.

It was like drinking all over again. The bastard kept restraining himself. There were few things that Nicholas hated more than being pitied. Unfortunately, he was too tired to bring it up.

“This is your fault,” Nicholas jabbed, supressing a groan as he forced his feet to waddle forward a few more steps. He’d always considering himself strong until now. Yet, the other crewmates didn’t look half as tired as he did—was he getting sick? He couldn’t be the only one struggling here.

“See you at dinner?” a woman asked as she passed by with an empty trolley.

“Of course he will be!” a man said, clapping Vash on the back. “He promised me a drink.”

“I said I’m broke,” Vash whined. “Why do you think I’m here in the first place?”

“What’s a little more debt?” the man smirked.

Despite Vash’s pout, he happily agreed when they told him to meet them in the mess in two hours. The pair gave Nicholas a short nod before ambling on. While Nicholas knew how to play up a crowd, Vash took it to a whole new level.

“When did you get so chummy?” he asked.

“Huh?” Vash cocked his head, like a dog trying to find a scent, before giving up and shrugging. “I dunno, but you should join us.”

“I have to. Can’t let you get us into even more debt.” Nicholas shifted the crate in his hands, his arms burning from the strain.

“I don’t eat that much,” Vash protested.

“We have two very different concepts of much,” Nicholas grunted. Two more people waved to Vash as they walked by. It was just like when they were waiters all over again. “You’re good at making friends.”

“It’s not that hard.” Vash grinned, his ears red. “If you know how to smile.”

“…are you trying to pick a fight?” Nicholas glared at him. Or at the crate, to be precise—these things were way too big. While his hands were by no means delicate and soft, his roughened skin rubbed against the coarse wood.

There was a pregnant pause before Vash jested, “So you don’t know how to smile?”

“Just wait till we put these down,” he growled.

Vash chuckled and picked up the pace. So he had been faking his exhaustion, the bastard. Nicholas clicked his teeth as he glared. What else had he been hiding? And how long would it take to find out? Maybe Nicholas was more tired than he’d realized, because for some reason, he was thinking of the future. Beyond all of this. Despite all of the hard work, despite the pickpocketing and the endless money loss, this hadn’t been his worst trip.

It had been kinda fun, even.

Maybe, even after the trip, after the debt, they could keep travelling together. Like this. Chaotic and exhausting yet extremely—

Nicholas lightly bumped his head against the crate. What was he thinking?

-x-

Why had he been thinking of the future? The present was what mattered and in the present, his bad luck reared again. Half-way through the journey their ship had come under the attack of pirates. Ducking behind several crates in the hold with Vash, Nicholas groaned. “Seriously?”

Vash peeked up. A bullet whizzed by and he immediately flatted himself back down again as wisps of blonde hair fell. “I thought pirates were extinct?”

“Tell that to them.” Nicholas pressed a hand to his forehead. It might have been better if he’d just had a gun or a weapon to defend himself with. Instead, all he could do was cower and hope that they’d make it out of here in one piece.

“Think it’d work?” Vash rubbed his chin, seriously considering the suggestion.

“No!” Nicholas hissed. He scanned their surroundings. There was a door just ahead of them, leading up to the crew’s quarters. With all of the loot scattered about, the pirates wouldn’t bother following them there.

The only problem was that there was no cover between here and the door.

Following his gaze, Vash caught on. “On the count of three?”

Bullets flew overhead as some of the more…zealous crew members fought with the pirates. No one was paying them enough to protect the cargo. Nicholas shook his head. “We won’t make it.”

“Trust me.” Vash grinned, giving an encouraging thumbs up.

Nicholas gave him a flat stare. “You lost our tickets. And your wallet. And—”

“That was that, this is this,” Vash said sagely. It was the least reassuring thing Nicholas had ever heard.

He ran a hand through his hair, his nails scraping his scalp. It wasn’t like they had any other choice. With a groan, he agreed. “On three.”

“One.”

Nicholas shifted into a crouch, ready to spring forward.

“Two.”

Vash shuffled a little closer and adjusted his glasses.

“Three.”

Bullets rained down as they ran forward. Had someone noticed them? He wasn’t sure, the shots seemed to come from everywhere. Luckily, nothing hit them as they hurled themselves at the door. Vash reached first, yanking the metal door open like it was made of paper.

“Hurry!”

“What do you think I’m doing?” Nicholas shouted. From the corner of his eye, he spotted a pirate pop out from behind a crate, his gun aimed at Vash. He’d never considered himself a hero, but his legs moved before he could think and he shoved Vash through the door as a bullet tore through his chest.

Vash slammed onto the metal floor with a hard thud. Immediately, he pushed himself up. “Nicholas!”

“Fuck.” Dazed, Nicholas touched his chest. His fingers came away, blood red.

He was bleeding.

“Shit!” Vash stumbled as he turned around, dragging Nicholas though the door. His hands fumbled with buttons on Nicholas’s jacket.

“This isn’t good,” Nicholas groaned. His chest burned. Black encroached his sight. Was he dying? It felt like he was dying.

“No, no, no, this isn’t supposed to happen,” Vash mumbled, distraught. “I’m supposed to protect you. You’re not supposed to die, not like this. Shit, why’d you do that?”

“I don’t know,” Nicholas muttered honestly. “I didn’t want you to get hurt. We…we still have…” He grunted as blinding pain tore through him. “We…”

Vash’s face twisted. “You can’t die.” He tossed off his glasses and slicked back his hair. His skin started to glow.

Maybe he really was dying, because Nicholas could swear he saw white wings sprout from Vash’s back.

“You won’t die.”

-x-

“Keep your human safe.”

This was the first and only rule a guardian angel had. Keep your human safe. Happy, if possible. But safe, above else.

It was something that Vash repeated to himself as he sat cross-legged in front of a pool of water, focusing intently on the still surface. Images flickered across it, scenes depicting a six-year-old boy meeting with his friends, playing pranks on his sister, getting scolded by his parents.

Nicholas Wolfwood was a mischievous boy, but a well-meaning one. Vash had heard about his type before. With age, he’d soften his tricks, maybe even become a charismatic leader. Probably. There was the possibility of Nicholas going down the wrong path entirely and becoming a roguish villain, but Vash refused to let that happen.

The scene in the water changed yet again, showing Nicholas leaning against a window, his hands gripping the windowsill as he searched through the night sky. Disappointed, he sighed. “I wish it’d snow.”

It was a small, simple desire. Vash could grant it in a heartbeat without impacting the greater scope of things. Perhaps Nicholas would look back at this moment as what led him to staying on the right path.

“As you wish.” He smiled.

-x-

The snow became a blizzard, burying the village for three days.

-x-

A wish for better grades led to an entire class failing. An ask to win the lottery led to a broken leg and settlement claims. Even wanting a book caused a fire at the library.

Vash clenched his fists, his nails digging into his palm as he stared into the pool. This wasn’t how it was supposed to go. His first assignment and he’d somehow messed up. Every. Single. Time. He hadn’t even succeeded at the basic keep your human safe rule.

No, he’d done the very opposite of that, especially now. Vash bit his cheek as he watched the newly-orphaned Nicholas wipe his eyes in front of a gravestone, his tiny shoulders trembling, an older man kneeling beside him and offering words of comfort.

The mangled wishes hadn’t directly caused this, but Vash couldn’t shake off the feeling that he was still responsible. Had he overcompensated again? Was this a side effect, a balancing of fate, where one fortune caused a misfortune? He couldn’t verify it either way and somehow that was worse, the not knowing, the uncertainty, the niggling feeling that he’d scarred Nicholas in irreparable ways.

This wasn’t right. None of this was supposed to be happening.

Nicholas shook off the older man and ran off, bawling as he cried for his parents.

Vash reached out. His fingers brushed the pool and the water rippled, disrupting the image. From here, he couldn’t even comfort Nicholas.

From here.

Vash stood up. He could still fix this. He could fix everything.

-x-

Going to Earth had solved nothing. Close up, it should have been easier to see the impact of his wishes, to make sure he used his powers in moderation, yet…the string of bad luck continued. Even worse, Nicholas had started living like a nomad, wandering from city to city, tied down by neither friends nor family.

The glittering promise of childhood remained unfulfilled—no degrees, no career jobs, not even long-lasting relationships.

And now, here they were: Nicholas on a hospital bed, a labyrinth of tubes hiding his pale body, a monitor beeping as it tried to keep him alive.

Sitting next to the bed, Vash grabbed Nicholas’s hand. It was clammy. Nothing at all like the warm man with a sharp mind and sharper tongue. Clasping his hand, he pressed it to his forehead.

As bad as everything had been leading up to this, this was the worst possible outcome. Nicholas was dying. Slowly, but surely.

You’ll do better tomorrow, right?

He couldn’t let that happen.

He refused to let that happen.

-x-

“You said you owed a debt, right?” Nicholas had said the first night on the ship, sleeping on the bunk above Vash. Not that it would have changed things if he’d been on the same level; in the dark, it was impossible to see anything. Their tiny, shared cabin afforded a single, tiny oval-shaped window. The moon was too weak to illuminate the sea outside, let alone the room inside.

“Yeah.” Vash’s mouth went dry. To you, he couldn’t say. Instinctively, he knew that if he told the truth, everything here, everything that was and wasn’t between them would collapse. And while once he might have been fine watching from afar, now…

After talking to Nicholas up close, after laughing and working with him, he wasn’t sure he wanted to go back to the shadows. He wasn’t sure if he could.

But fortunately, Nicholas didn’t ask for the details of the debt. “Knowing you, it’s impossibly large.”

A life-debt, so to speak. Vash’s shoulders slumped. “You could say that.”

“Knowing you, it’s not entirely your fault either,” Nicholas continued.

If only that were the truth. “No, it’s mine.”

A sock landed on Vash’s face and Nicholas grumbled, “I was trying to be nice. Anyways, need some help paying it back?”

That caught Vash off-guard. He jerked his head up, but the metal frame and mattress between them was impenetrable to human sight. Was Nicholas joking? He sounded serious. “After all the money you owe?”

“We owe and yeah.” Vash could picture Nicholas shrugging. “Why not?”

Vash bit his cheek, scrutinizing the dark bed frame above him seriously. “Are you sick?”

Another sock dropped on his face. “You want to do this alone?”

No. “I should,” Vash whispered. It was easier to admit this, in the dark, with no one to see, to judge. He did not like being alone.

No, more than that, he just didn’t want to leave Nicholas.

“Should is not want.” Nicholas retorted. “Just…think about it.” There was a long silence before he added, “And it probably isn’t entirely your fault.”

Vash covered his face. His victim shouldn’t be comforting him. “You said that already.”

“I know. And I’ll say it again if I have to.”

-x-

“It was my fault,” Vash said now, in the hospital. It was impossible to deny it. “I’m sorry.”

He closed his eyes, reaching deep into himself. There was still one last trick to try: if he shared his essence, if he poured his powers into Nicholas, then maybe, just maybe, he’d at least not have failed him.

-x-

Nicholas stared at his hands, then at Vash. His impassive expression chilled Vash to the bone; there was nothing warm in the way he studied Vash. It was like he was looking at a stranger, rather than a friend. Then again, after all that had happened, perhaps Vash should just be happy that he wasn’t glaring at him with hate.

Vash wrung his hands as he stood by the bed awkwardly and waited for Nicholas to say something. Anything. The silence was unbearable.

“Guardian angel?” Nicholas repeated.

“Yes.”

“Like what you hear about in stories,” Nicholas pressed.

Vash nodded.

Covering an eye with one hand, Nicholas squinted at him. “That explains the halo.”

Was that a joke? There were traces of fatigue in Nicholas’s voice; maybe he was still groggy from the pain-killers. Vash bit his lip. “I—I failed. I’m sorry.”

Nicholas shifted his hand to the other eye. “Yeah, never heard of a guardian angel getting protected. Shouldn’t it be the other way around?”

Vash flinched and hung his head, unable to defend himself. It was true, it was all true. “ You shouldn’t have gotten shot.”

“Look, I didn’t…” Nicholas sighed, his hands on his lap. “It’s not like I wanted to get hurt.”

“I would have been fine,” Vash rambled on. “You should have protected yourself.” He stopped himself—this wasn’t what he’d come here for. “…why did you do that?”

Surprised, Nicholas stared at Vash. His jaw tensed before he shook his head. “I…I don’t know. It’s not like I knew you were,” he gestured at Vash, “and I…I just moved.” His hands clenched the bedsheet. “I saw the bullet and I…just moved.”

“You…” Vash locked eyes with Nicholas and swallowed as an unfathomable expression crossed his face. What did moved mean? What did that expression mean?

What did he want it to mean?

Nicholas smiled lopsidedly. “Guess I wasn’t ready for this journey to end just yet.”

Vash didn’t know what to say to that. Unable to take it anymore, he broke his gaze and turned to the window. Despite himself, he whispered, “…me neither.”

“It doesn’t have to. We can—”

He didn’t want to look at Nicholas, didn’t want to know what expression he made. The raw hope in his voice was painful enough as it was.

“Next time, it could be worse,” Vash interrupted. He was a failure of a guardian angel, unable to guarantee Nicholas’s protection in any way. Not from pickpockets, not from debt, and now not even from bullets. Maybe he shouldn’t have been assigned to him.

Maybe he should never have signed up for this in the first place.

But it wasn’t too late to fix this. If he went back, got someone else assigned, then maybe, just maybe, the rest of Nicholas’s life could be saved. “I should go.”

“Go?” Perplexed, Nicholas shifted on the bed, trying to get out. “Go where—wait, where are you going?”

Vash ignored him, making a beeline to the door. His hand rested on the doorknob. “Sorry for everything.”

“I said, wait you fuc—” Nicholas yelped as he fell out of bed.

“Nicholas?” Vash turned around and something jerked him back, an invisible chain yanking him back and away from the door. He tumbled, falling hard on the floor. For a moment, he lay there, dazed, staring at Nicholas as he lay on the ground nearby.

They stared at each other.

Nicholas croaked, “That hurt.”

Vash patted his neck. There was nothing there. Yet, he could still feel the sensation of the chain, the tightness of a collar. Like—realization dawned and Vash swallowed hard as he stared at the space between him and Nicholas. It couldn’t, it shouldn’t—there was a thin, silverly thread of light connecting them.

A chain, of sorts.

“Shit.”

Nicholas snorted. “That’s not a very angel-like thing to say.”

Vash wasn’t listening. He tugged on the end of the chain connected to his chest but it refused to budge. With a groan, he pressed his face flat on the floor. “I fucked up.”

“Even less angel-like.” Nicholas pulled himself up to a seated position. Wiggling his toes and fingers, he shrugged. “Doesn’t look like we’re in danger and aside from a few bruises, I’m feeling pretty good right now. Everything seems accounted for.” A thought struck him and he tugged the waistband of the pants the hospital had provided and peeked inside. “Yep, all accounted for.”

“It’s…” Vash lifted his head, looking balefully at Nicholas. “I tied us together.”

“Buy a man a meal first,” Nicholas quipped. When Vash didn’t smile, he stilled. “What does tied mean?”

“Our souls are connected now,” Vash mumbled, wincing with each word. He couldn’t even rescue someone properly. “I’m…not sure exactly what this will do. I’ve heard rumours. It might make you live longer. It might change you.” He tugged on the chain. “But we can’t go too far from each other.”

“Oh. Literally tied.” Nicholas’s expression didn’t change as he stroked his chin, staring at the door, contemplating the situation. Was he disappointed? Angry? Vash could only hope it wasn’t hate.

Vash winced. Just how many times could a person screw up? “I…I’m sorry.”

“The door isn’t that far.” Nicholas struggled to get up, grunting from the exertion.

When he started to fall, Vash lunged forward, catching him. “Careful!”

“Got you.” Nicholas smirked as he clutched Vash. Despite his loose grip, Vash was stuck, feeling more tied than he had by the chain. “Thanks.”

“I, I didn’t do anything worth thanking,” Vash mumbled stiffly. This was what he was supposed to be doing all along in the first place.

Nicholas shrugged and Vash could feel it—every gesture, every breath, every heart beat. Every sign that said I’m alive. “Still. You saved me.”

He relaxed, allowing himself to relax in the cage of Nicholas’s embrace. Burying his head in the crook of Nicholas’s neck, Vash mumbled, “It wasn’t supposed to be like this.”

“That’s the thing about travelling. Nothing ever goes to plan.” Nicholas half-laughed, half-wheezed. “It’s fine. I wanted to travel with you a little longer anyways.”

“It won’t be a little,” Vash warned.

“Even better.” Nicholas pulled back till their eyes met. “I thought I preferred going solo but that’s not the case anymore.”

And he shouldn’t just accept this, shouldn’t just melt into Nicholas’s embrace like this, but Vash had never been good at doing what he should do in the first place. “Nicholas…”

“And…” Nicholas’s smirk turned dark, his grip tightening. “When you tried to leave, you almost saddled me with all of the debt.”

Vash froze. “I…”

“Don’t worry. I know how you can make it up to me.”

Maybe he should try the door again. The chain had to be longer than he realized. It had to be.

#vashwood #trigun #nicholas d. wolfwood #vash the stampede #fanfic #this story kept growing longer and longer #and i kept expanding every scene #i do like how it improved with that #but ahhhhh #i have to resist the urge to keep padding it more

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