lupusxylem | Inbox for sticksandbones

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Inbox for sticksandbones

I will not make this look pretty later, don't believe me it's all a lie

====

INVENTORY:

-The Punisher: Wolfwood's cross gun, normally covered in wrappings.
INFO from the mods on use so I don't forget: The cross-gun will be able to fire regular bullets (regains of these can be handwaved; silvered bullets can be purchased in the bonus AC store) just fine, without any special nerfs. The laser feature will be usable a max of 3 times a month.

-4 Vials of his Drugs(tm)
Info from the mods on use so I don't forget: Wolfwood can start with up to 5 vials of his Lab Drugs. More of these can be regained for the price of a Small Item (a maximum of 5 at once), but they will not work on other player characters for obvious reasons. Their healing ability will also be slightly nerfed to not heal anything instantaneously, but rather over a few minutes.
3/7: All Vials have been used. Will need to purchase replacements if he wants to use them again.
???: Forgot to put the date here but he's purchased more Vials, one has been used to he has 4 currently.

-A lighter

-A carton of cigarettes, more can be purchased/handwaved

-A winter coat that Heimr bullied him into purchasing

-A matching pair of boots for the coat

-A little knit wolf with sunglasses from Elsword.

-A blanket from Livio.

-A handgun with a wolf engraved on the handle.

-A black husky named Angelina

-A belt pouch to carry his regeneration vials with a cross emblazoned into the leather.

-Authentic rosary beads, with beads made from black glass and a heavy, silver cross pendant

-A black leather choker with a silver cross pendant, similar to the rosary

-A whole church(tm)

-A wool knit cat plushie from Pure Vanilla

-3 tomas chicks that currently live in Kiera's barn

-3 londonites

-Wolf skull shaped cufflinks

-A dagger for his "birthday" from Gnosis

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[Idly, Vash watches that lollipop swirl round and round his lips. He tells himself it's because it's the only thing moving, and thus the only thing to draw his eyes. It's a pretty poor excuse, though. As soon as he realizes what he's doing, he drops his gaze down to the bed.]

I guess I do. [Which... now that he thinks about it, he realizes just how little Wolfwood knows about him. Surely he was provided with a fair bit of information by his employers, but Vash could only guess how far that went. Maybe, maybe he knew more than the average person, but it still wouldn't be by much.] Sounds like it's my turn to do the talking next time.

[Not tonight, though. Tonight is about taking care of Wolfwood. He eases a little further up the mattress, settling himself properly beside his companion. It's close enough that their legs touch, enough that Wolfwood could lean back over onto Vash again, if he wanted to.

He won't push it. But the offer is there.]

[Vash is right. What Wolfwood knows about him is actually quite little, because to guard and escort him for as long as was needed, he didn't really need to know much. Granted, he had enough of an inkling that he had to be different- inhuman, or close to it in some way- simply because that's how Knives was. Not that Knives typically deigned it important to inform his human underlings of things unless it was absolutely necessary, and Wolfwood is certain he probably sat at one of the lowest rungs of that particular ladder.

He's a pawn in the game, nothing more. And once he'd outlived his usefulness, he- too- would be discarded, and he would just have to accept that. It's a necessity, if he wants to keep the people he cares about the most safe.

Vash has rejoined him on his bed, and there's a clear, silent offer to be close. Well. Closer. Closer than they would have casually.

...

Wolfwood shifts, a sort of shimmy against the wall, until he is leaning against Vash's side. There's no longer a big jacket to hide in, but that doesn't stop him.]

Bet you've got a hell of a story to tell.

[Once again, Vash finds himself wondering if he's gone too far. And once again, Vash crashes through the line he tries to draw, even as he's in the process of mapping it out. His arm slides out and around Wolfwood's waist, keeping him close. It's not quite as enveloping as the jacket might have been, and it probably lacks the warmth to go with it, but it's still a gentle gesture all the same.

His own head tilts, angling so that he can rest his chin on top of Wolfwood's head. He hasn't felt so right — and so wrong — about a gesture in ages.]

I'm sure I do. [There's a hint of unsteadiness in his voice. He'd been asked to stay, but would that continue to be true if Vash told the truth? His background wasn't pretty, and his hands were far from clean. Would it make the Punisher think twice about him and the ideals he already seemed to detest?

It would be better for them if it never came up at all. Instead:]

You can ask me anything you want.

[When Vash puts his arm around him, Wolfwood is pretty damn sure that his heart starts beating so hard and so violently in his chest that there is no way Vash can't hear it. The pumping of his blood roars in his ears and makes him feel briefly dizzy, which can be somewhat attributed to the alcohol, he thinks. Forget the jacket, he suddenly feels like he's sweltering just from that slight touch alone. It is an incredibly intimate gesture, and it's not accidental either.

Wolfwood breathes out slowly, so the sharp little intake of breath he gave just then is maybe not quite so obvious just as Vash is resting his chin against his head, and oh no the feeling is back. But it's not...a bad feeling, not by any stretch of the imagination. It's just new, and overwhelming, and he doesn't exactly know how to handle it. But as it's been doing for him this whole time, the whiskey has Wolfwood's back. It smooths over the nerves, gentle and forgiving, and before he really realizes what's happening, he's relaxing into what is most definitely an embrace at this point, one-armed or no.

Fuck. Fuck it.

He glances down, looking at the way they're now sitting together. Vash's legs are so long it looks silly with them halfway hanging off the edge of the bed.]

...you sure? I don't need to know right now.

[He knows Vash's past is fraught, and a lot of it isn't good. At least Wolfwood's could be summarized in a few words, but Vash...]

[There's a brief but terrifying moment in which Vash thinks Wolfwood might pull away. Sharing an emotional half-embrace was far different than a deliberate one. He loosens his grip to allow the other man to squirm away, already pushing down any welling affection. The growing regret for having pushed too hard is also choked back as well.

Thankfully, he doesn't go anywhere. With a little adjustment, they're both settled in an embrace that's far more than one shared between friends. Likewise, Vash's own heart starts to thud as the gravity of their position settles in, too late for anything to be done.

It's fine. He can do this. Keep calm.]

Consider it an open offer.

[It doesn't have to be that night, not when they're both already raw. Vash just knows that the playing field is uneven at the moment.]

We don't have to do anything, really. Can just sit here and call asleep for all I care.

[It's about them that Vash realizes what falling asleep will entail. Hed only just talked about their shared rests together, but that had been for the sake of watching over one another at their worst. They were both in good health now, capable of agreeing (or disagreeing) to their circumstances.

And Vash didn't want to go anywhere.]

[An open offer, huh...

Well. There really is only one thing that Wolfwood, personally, has been wondering even long before he and Vash ever met. He doubts it's something Vash can actually give a concrete answer to, but...perhaps he has a hunch. A hypothesis, at any rate. It won't require him to delve into details about his past or anything unsavory like that, at least not right now.

Not when Wolfwood is leaning in against him, savoring his warmth while also trying not to just vibrate right out of his own skin.]

I'll ask just one thing, then. For now. Might be...kindof redundant, but.

[He's also Kindof Drunk so words are hard.]

What...do you think Knives wants with you so badly? My orders...have always been to keep you alive, no matter the cost.

He could've just offed you a hundred times over to get you out of his hair, but he hasn't. I don't get it.

[Because...unlike what Vash may hope and pray for, Wolfwood doesn't think it's out of any sort of love or desire to see his brother again.]

[Given their close proximity, Wolfwood will undoubtedly feel the way Vash tenses. He'd offered up anything, and he doesn't intend to go back on that promise, but that doesn't mean he loves the topic at hand. Fitfully, his fingers fuss with one another, unsure of what to grab at without the excessive fabric of his jacket. They wind up buried in the sheets.

Absently, his gaze slides away.]

I know what I want it to be. And I also know what it's not. [It's as Wolfwood thought. Knives' desire to see Vash again didn't come back to familial love. Even admitting it to himself fills him with a bone deep ache. he lifts his hand to press down above his heart, just to keep the pain from radiating too far.]

I think he wants what I can give him. Power that I can't access. Not that I know how he plans to get at it.

[He'd never be able to predict what Knives was planning.]

[Wolfwood knows what he wants it to be, too. It's hard to think about it being anything else. In a perfect world, Vash could walk right up to Knives and reunite and they could be a family again. But...they've both seen the destruction he's wrought. How many countless lives snuffed out effortlessly by his hands. Humans are as many grains of sand falling through his fingers. To them, they are nothing, and they will become nothing if whatever he's planning comes to fruition.

He looks over at Vash out of the corner of his eye, watching the way he keeps his gaze pointed elsewhere.]

But you're going to walk into his trap anyway. Just like that.

What other option do I have?

[They've let down so many walls between each other, so what's one more? A note of defeat seeps into his voice, which comes out as little more than a whisper. He knows what Wolfwood will say. He could run into the sunset, forever and ever. The problem was that Knives would always follow him. In his wake there would be more Jeneora Rock's. More stolen plants. More sick and dying children.

But he doesn't say this, even if he's sure Wolfwood gets it. Instead, he offers:]

If there's a chance I can change his mind, to get him to return those plants, I have to take it.

[He knew there was no point in reiterating what he's said before, of course. Vash...made up his mind 150 years ago. He would try to make Knives come to his senses by whatever means necessary, even if that meant stopping him...somehow.

The only problem is, Wolfwood genuinely doesn't think Vash has what it takes to take him down, if it came to it. It's not even a matter of if he's literally capable. But...emotionally.

If he could dispatch Knives as easily as pulling a trigger...Wolfwood still doesn't think he would.]

...I don't know how you do it.

[He finally sighs, his voice just above a whisper.]

You've lived more than a lifetime of this bullshit. Me...I'd've probably gone insane by now.

...but I guess I didn't really have a conventional childhood, huh.

[Wolfwood didn't have one, period. He wasn't allowed. He never got a choice.]

[It's cruel to laugh after an admission like that, but Vash does anyway. He realizes what he's done only after the ragged sound has wrenched itself from his chest. A hand comes to rest over his mouth, metal fingers thankfully avoiding outright clapping against the more vulnerable flesh. He closes his eyes, breathes in slow, then counts to three.

Only once he's done, does he lower his hand.]

I - we didn't either. Maybe none of this would have happened if we had. [Wolfwood has no idea just how deep that statement goes. Maybe if Vash is lucky, he never will. But even by admitting as much out loud, he's opened himself to another line of questioning.]

There are days where it's harder. Days where I wish I could give up. [Does he mean his morals, or entirely? Vash isn't saying.] But I don't get to have that luxury. Not when others have suffered more.

[It's so...god damn frustrating. On the tip of his tongue, dancing there, Wolfwood wants to tell Vash that he should give up. Not for any perceived sense of morals or any of that bullshit, but because he deserves to cut loose from this and just be. Even if you feel responsible...but he'd be a hypocrite to even breathe the suggestion, not to mention Vash wouldn't consider the idea to begin with. That's just not who he is.

And he does wonder. He wonders who Vash is, really. What was it like, "growing up" for someone like him. A Plant. What happened to bring things to this point? Everything- the Big Fall, their lives on this planet- it's all connected in some way. Even the generation of people born on No Man's Land such as Wolfwood know that.

He closes his eyes, letting those angry words die on his tongue. It's an incredible feat of self control for Wolfwood, who would sooner grab Vash by the collar and shake him until he started making sense. Maybe it's easier to relent when he feels the way he does right now. Tired. Hollow. Burdened with this ache in his chest that makes him feel like he's dying all over again.

There's a lengthy pause before Vash will feel a weight settle against his shoulder. Wolfwood, laying his head there. More like letting it thunk into it, but. It comes along with his hand coming up to tentatively touch the back of Vash's fingers on the hand resting on his hip. After a few false starts, he covers it with his own.]

Yeah. But you've suffered, too. A hell of a lot. That...matters.

[Close as the two of them are, Wolfwood will feel the way Vash's body begins to tense. He knows he's about to be berated. Nick has only ever railed at his lack of self-preservation. It can only get worse as more and more barriers start to be pulled down. It's the same way Vash feels sick knowing just how much Wolfwood puts his own body through.

But the shoe never drops. Instead, warmth suffuses him as that tender gesture is offered. It makes Vash's eyelashes flutter, makes his stomach do flips powerful enough to make him feel nauseated. The back of his mind insists he should pull back, and yet -

His hand twists, just enough to thread their fingers together. His head angles just enough that he can bury his face within Wolfwood's hair. It isn't enough to diminish all of the pain he feels within his chest, but it does bury it for the time being. Enough, at least, that it makes laughing the rest of it away that much easier.]

Maybe it was all worth it. Gettin' dragged along by my hair brought me to you, didn't it?

Edited 2023-12-22 04:43 (UTC)

[Okay. Alright. They are just Holding Hands Now. It's what they were doing before technically, since Vash turned that into a hand-hold instead of shaking hands, but this time Wolfwood basically invited it by initiating contact. It's yet another thing he could blame on the whiskey, but alcohol can really only carry the explanation for your actions so far. It doesn't make you do things. It just lowers your inhibitions, making the things you would have already done easier to do.

Wolfwood...snorts, chuckling suddenly under his breath when he feels Vash press his face against the crown of his head. Oh yeah he's definitely still drunk, but it's not the miserable kind he might get to mask his woes. He feels...warm. Warmer than he has in a while.

His hand is rough. His fingers are calloused, and his palm and fingers are lines with scars both old and new. His knuckles are a little hairy. It's not perfect, yet he holds Vash's hand all the same, his grip tightening for just a moment.]

Meeting me was worth it. Me. I think you've got a screw loose.

[And yet, if you asked Vash, he would call that hand perfect. So perfect, that some part of Vash might have wished to study every inch of it. He isn't even so certain it would just be with his mouth. He briefly entertains the idea of dragging his lips over every knuckle and -

The thought is promptly pushed from his head, though not without a bit of a struggle. He forces himself to exhale a laugh instead, scattering Wolfwood's hair this way and that. It does little to help him, when the strands feel soft against his lips.]

Maybe I do. But you knew that, didn't you? [His laugh is just a little deeper, a little louder this time.] I'd say it's why you like me, even. Why else keep me around?

Why? Because I like you?

[Wolfwood closes his eyes, that laugh from before still playing at his lips. While Vash is daydreaming about kissing his hand, Wolfwood is marveling at the fact that Vash is allowing this...period. Wolfwood isn't the guy you think about when you're like "yeah, I want to have some soft time with my bro", because Wolfwood would sooner bite you than let it happen. Yet, somehow, they've wound up tangled up together again, only this time it's under their own terms.

It's getting colder. As such, he finds himself compelled to curl a bit closer to Vash, as if seeking that warmth. Even the cold metal of his prosthetic isn't a deterrent, not like it ever was previously.]

...yeah. Yeah, maybe. [...] You're...fucking stupid. You're a complete pain in my ass.

[Uh oh.]

You're reckless, a disaster, and anyone in their right mind would stay as far away as possible. But you're...you're braver than I give you credit for. You're funny. And...

[He sighs deeply.]

I dunno. You put up with me.

[Anyone in their right mind would be insulted by the tirade Wolfwood unleashes. Vash, idiot that he is, only starts to smile. It's a slow curl of his lips, one that Nick might even feel against his hair. It might as well be praise that's being heaped atop him, twisting at his stomach like molten knives. The warmth radiates outward, pushing back against the cold like a flame in its own right.

He shifts, forehead trailing downward until it's pressed against Wolfwood's. He can meet his eyes like this, and be grateful that at some point in the night he took his glasses off. Nick might sitll be wearing his own, but at least they're less likely to get caught on one another like this.]

Wolfwood. [His voice is little more than a whisper, and husky with all the things he's afraid to say. He angles his head just enough to rub their noses against each other.]

You're so brusque. All sharp edges and anger, but it's not all there is to you. I can see the man that cares so much beneath all that bluster and smoke. [His laugh is faint, lest he outright guffaw in the poor man's face.] You put up with me too, you know.

[They are. Very close. Wolfwood is still wearing his shades, yes, but at this angle it's impossible for Vash to not be able to see his eyes peering up at him over the rims. His pupils are blown wide- mercifully from inebriation this time and not being uncomfortably high- as his eyes dart a little, studying Vash's face.

He looks, in that moment, shellshocked. Like Vash's mere existence has made him forget how to exist as a person. Vash has always sort of been that for him anyway, this obnoxious foil given how diametrically opposed the two of them are. Their ideals clash, their way of approaching life is at odds, yet somehow they manage to make a perfect team despite all of that. It shouldn't make sense, but it does. It's the same face he makes when Vash manages to say things that cut through his rocky heart down to its core, soft and vulnerable. Afraid to bare itself to anyone, lest he get hurt again.

Is this okay? Is it okay to have this? To just...be happy, in this moment? He's not sure. Guys like him don't deserve that.

He's overwhelmed by emotion. Because of that, much like a cat, Wolfwood leans back just a fraction of an inch before he sinks back in again, bonking his forehead against Vash's. It's a clearly affectionate gesture, given without words.]

If you're gonna say all that, you might as well call me Nick.

Nick, then.

[His words are little more than a whisper. When he moves his lips, it makes it all the more obvious just how close the two of them are. It would take little more than craning his head downward just a scant few inches. It could happen in a blink of an eye, before either of them could stop it. There's no barrier, just open air.

He could, but something holds him back. It isn't fear this time, the paralyzing worry that he might drag Wolfwood down to hell with him. Sure, this thought echoes endlessly in the back of his mind, rattling 'round and 'round until he feels sick with the guilt. But not tonight. Maybe it's the alcohol. Or maybe Wolfwood finally rattled Vash's skull around until the savior in him learned to shut his damn mouth.

No, it's just simple courtesy. Their position is an intimate one, but it could still be argued that it was companionable. And at the end of the day, he respects Wolfwood more than anything. That included his boundaries.

And so - ]

Can I kiss you?

[It's not the first time Vash has called him by his first name. In fact, it happened just weeks prior, when they were attacked in the forest and Vash definitely slipped that in there when he was calling out for him. It wasn't something Wolfwood missed, but at the time he was so busy being eaten that he couldn't really think about it. Hearing him say it now under less immediately dire circumstances leaves his heart hammering in his chest. To everyone else, he is Wolfwood. Nicholas the Punisher, if they want to be formal about it. But other than Livio, no one calls him Nick, and Livio is special in that regard.

It would have been enough to satiate whatever that gnawing feeling inside of him has been craving, at least for now. He would have been content to sit in companionable silence until they either found something else to blabber on about or fell asleep on each other. That's kindof just how reality works. Whatever his alcohol-addled brain could cook up just isn't going to happen outside of his dreams, maybe, so he might as well just-

...

Wolfwood's eyes widen, just a sliver. It's enough to take him out of that perpetual scowl and instead shift his expression into genuine shock, and if Vash expected an answer to that question any time soon, well. He's going to have to wait for more than a few seconds. It feels like hours pass, the deafening roar in his ears having reached such a fever pitch that he can't even think.

And, you know. He could give a normal answer, like normal people do. A "yes" or "no" is what Vash is looking for, here. Rules of respecting ones' boundaries and consent and all that. But Vash is so close right now that he can smell the alcohol on his breath, and Vash could probably pluck that lollipop stick from Wolfwood's mouth without using his hands if he wanted. Well, one of Wolfwood's hands is held in Vash's while the other is being effectively pinned against his side, so...

It means that he has to turn his head and spit the stick out onto the floor, and instead of answering Vash at all, he leans forward and closes the gap on his own. He kisses Vash without a single word uttered, right then and there, like he's been thinking about doing it this whole time yet would have sooner died than done so himself.

Not anymore, it seems. Not when he somehow struggles his other arm free, sliding it around Vash from behind so he can hold the back of his neck, as if to keep him in place as he tilts his head to make their connection more seamless.

He's not thinking. Not anymore.]

[Vash's lips part to protest the mess he's making, only to be promptly silenced as Wolfwood crashes against him. He can still taste the lingering sweetness, better than any shared cigaratte or liquor bottle could ever be. All at once, his body wants to take in more, to lap greedily into his mouth in an effort to chase that taste.

It's a small miracle that Wolfwood distracts him, those rough fingers scraping over the tender flesh of his neck. The shudder that follows is a bodily one, one that Nick will surely feel given the way their bodies press together. It reminds him to shift his own body, easing back just a little bit even as his the cybernetic hand twines around his shoulders. Where he goes, he coaxes Wolfwood along, making sure that connection doesn't break.

It's only once they're settled into something slightly more comfortable — Vash propped back on his elbows, still holding his hand and clutching to his back for dear life — that he thinks about properly indulging his fantasy. Tentatively, his lips part, a kittenish lick drawing along Wolfwood's lower lip. He tastes the flavor of that lollipop once more, and hopes he'll be permitted more. Admittedly, his movements are just a little unsteady. He isn't inexperienced, having had over a century of life to pursue the more human experiences he had admired. But the stiffness of each motion implies something more unpracticed. Regardless of what experience he has, it's certainly been awhile since he's put it into practice.

It doesn't seem to inhibit his enjoyment, given the way his heart rabbits within his chest. But if Wolfwood was expecting someone with more prowess, he would almost certainly be disappointed]

[This probably would have gone better if Wolfwood had just let Vash kiss him first at his own pace, but "better" is swiftly becoming relative now that they've suddenly shifted positions, with Wolfwood practically laying forward across Vash now given the way he moved to facilitate it. Even though he smoked a cigarette before Vash came up, the nicotine is completely smothered by the mingled flavors of whiskey and sweet sugar, both playing off each other as Vash sneaks his way into a curious taste. Unlike Vash, who has experience although minimal, Wolfwood has a fair amount of it...just don't ask him how, where, or why. Just that it's been a really long ass time. Alcohol, as a general rule, factored into those moments to be sure.

Honestly, he isn't expecting anything at all. Even if Vash just pecked his lips and left it at that, he thinks it would have been fine. Endearing, even. Instead, he surprises him by an immediate bid for something more than that...which Wolfwood is going to oblige readily. Only this time, he's the one who gets to thread his fingers up through Vash's hair, traveling from the back of his neck into the shorter hairs just above his nape.

In answer to that silent question, Wolfwood lets his lips part as well. It's inviting as much as it is reciprocating as he licks his way back into Vash's mouth, and he swears to god that Vash tastes sweet despite having imbibed just the alcohol this evening. He wants more of it. He wants...

Well. He wants to kiss this idiot's brains out, so that's what he's focusing on now. That way he can't run his mouth, not if Wolfwood's pressing into him with the fervor of that kiss, yet it's more the intent than it is rough or overwhelming. Actually...it's quite gentle, for someone like Wolfwood. Slow and easy, just the sound of their lips making contact in the room now.]

[The response to even the slightest touch within his hair is a mournful sigh. It comes dangerously close to something more audible, though Vash manages to bite it back at the last second. The last thing he wants is to make a fool of himself, or even give the wrong idea of where he wants this to go. He's fine with just the kiss, deep as it's become. He wants to relish just this moment for as long as he can

His tongue brushes back against Wolfwood's, scraping over his in a desperate bid to memorize every second of this moment. If, in the future, he was ever denied this contact, then he would at least have the memories to hold close to his chest. Not that he wants to think that far into the future.

Not that he wants to think, period.

Admittedly, he feels a little guilty for letting their positions get so rearranged. He'd meant to lead the charge into the kiss, rather than acquiesce to his leadership. He can't exactly protest that change in direction, however. He's far more concerned with thumbing over the back of that hard worn hand, in tandem with massaging circles into his back.]

[Wolfwood isn't exactly in the business of thinking either. That's for another time, when the booze has worn off and they can fully process the consequences of their actions here tonight, whatever those may end up being. Going from having a heart to heart, to crying on each other, to kissing isn't a leap made without something simmering under the surface, and these two have been fighting unresolved sexual tension basically the entire time they've known each other. It's just not something they've verbalized, because Vash was too busy pushing Wolfwood away, and Wolfwood would rather chew on glass than be vulnerable like that to literally anyone.

With Vash, though...it comes easy, somehow. He knows Vash isn't going to turn it around on him in some kind of cruel, malicious way, and even if this is the only moment they ever share...then Vash wouldn't hold his actions here against him. He'd treat him the same as he does anyone else, frustratingly genuine and kind to a fault in ways Wolfwood can and will never be. Vash shouldn't have to feel guilty about the request to kiss turning into being kissed, because Wolfwood was likely going to backslide into being assertive unless directed to otherwise. It's kindof all he knows, from his days at the orphanage up to now.

It's just nice. They kiss, and it's really nothing special. It's uncoordinated and a little sloppy, and every so often they bump noses painfully. Their teeth click together audibly at least once in a way that makes Wolfwood wince, but it doesn't stop him either. In fact, his breath shudders against Vash's lips at the feeling of his hand moving against his back, his thumb brushing over his hand, all of these...excessively fond gestures that make him feel like crying. They part. They kiss. Part, kiss.

Eventually, Wolfwood has to come up for air at some point. Maybe Vash too, reluctantly. It leaves Wolfwood just an inch away from Vash's face, his hair falling into his eyes. His fingers are still tangled loosely into the back of those blonde locks as Wolfwood finally manages words, a little hoarse now from disuse.]

You're so... [...] God.

[Their foreheads bump together. Maybe he forgot what he was going to say, or never had anything TO say to begin with.]

[The kiss is blissful. It's a perfectly imperfect mess, and Vash can think of nothing better. They've both always been clumsy idiots. Their descent into whatever sort of relationship this is was just as rocky and unsteady — why wouldn't their first kiss match it. Everything about it feels blissfully human, fragile and clumsy, and of course he eats it right up.

If he had to complain about anything, it'd be the fact that it ends too soon. His lips already feel swollen, and that's to say nothing about the ragged breaths he draws in, trying to catch up on his poor oxygen intake. He should, by all means, be taking a breather. Yet still he wants.

The urge is tempered as Wolfwood speaks, at least slightly. A soft breath leaves him, one that shakes at the edges. Vash feels so full in this moment, brilling with light and warmth that he can't say he's felt before. Yes, the glimmering resplendence of pure joy tickles at the back of his mind, threatening to awaken something dark to snatch it all away, but for now it remains silent and slumbering.]

Stupid? An idiot? [When he speaks, it's hushed and breathless. He tempers it with an equally fluttering laugh, before angling his head to kiss at the corner of his mouth.]

'm sure that list goes on.

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