[Wolfwood could honestly ask himself the same thing. A man wholly undeserving of love, someone who has spent his entire life killing to save others, a direct challenge to Vash's obstinate way of life. If Vash were a different type of person, he would probably detest that so much that being with Wolfwood at all, even as an acquaintance, wouldn't fly. Lucky for Wolfwood then that Vash is perhaps the most understanding person to ever exist, a complete anomaly in the world of his kind. Somehow, all of humanity's capacity for kindness and compassion got distilled into one person, and somehow, it's now being directed at him.
He looks down at Vash blearily as they share a moment of silence in the semi-gloom of his bedroom, with Vash's fingertips ever-so-delicately tracing the planes of his face, as if trying to memorize them. It makes Wolfwood's skin crawl, goosebumps rising along his arms and up the back of his neck just as Vash makes it a point to put his hands in his hair (dangerous), then buries his face against his neck (dangerous).
He wants...god. He doesn't know. Not once has he been sure. Right now more than anything, he's riding on instinct, booze, and what his gut is telling him whether that's the smart thing to do or not. He's already made peace with the fact that Vash is going to be sleeping in this bed with him tonight, and if Wolfwood has anything to say about it, they may just...make out lazily like this until they fall asleep. You know, just guys being dudes. Because, uh...
Wolfwood is no longer merely crouched over Vash. His body feels heavy, and so he simply just...lays down against him, letting their weight rest together and their limbs tangle haphazardly as Wolfwood turns to kiss Vash's face. He said he wanted to kiss him, and so he does...peppering him with brief brushes of his lips against skin. His jaw, his cheek, up to his temple and again along his forehead. Nothing is spared.]
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He looks down at Vash blearily as they share a moment of silence in the semi-gloom of his bedroom, with Vash's fingertips ever-so-delicately tracing the planes of his face, as if trying to memorize them. It makes Wolfwood's skin crawl, goosebumps rising along his arms and up the back of his neck just as Vash makes it a point to put his hands in his hair (dangerous), then buries his face against his neck (dangerous).
He wants...god. He doesn't know. Not once has he been sure. Right now more than anything, he's riding on instinct, booze, and what his gut is telling him whether that's the smart thing to do or not. He's already made peace with the fact that Vash is going to be sleeping in this bed with him tonight, and if Wolfwood has anything to say about it, they may just...make out lazily like this until they fall asleep. You know, just guys being dudes. Because, uh...
Wolfwood is no longer merely crouched over Vash. His body feels heavy, and so he simply just...lays down against him, letting their weight rest together and their limbs tangle haphazardly as Wolfwood turns to kiss Vash's face. He said he wanted to kiss him, and so he does...peppering him with brief brushes of his lips against skin. His jaw, his cheek, up to his temple and again along his forehead. Nothing is spared.]