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No Rain	By : blynkin108 Category: +S to Z > Trigun Views: 4334 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own Trigun, nor any of the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
- 6
- 7
- 8
A/N: Okay, I know y’all have been chomping at the bit for this update, so here it is. I have absolutely NO CLUE when Vash’s part will make an appearance, simply because Katwingz is stuck in the Victorian Era when it comes to writing lemon. So, it’s slow going. Anyway, enjoy please!

+Of all the times to forget to clean my room.+ It usually didn’t bother me that I lived like a slob. Actually, it had come in handy more than once for slowing down intruders. But tonight of all nights I wished I would have at least picked up the floor. What made it worse, though, was that Vash had already been in here once today. He’d checked out and moved his things to my room while I’d been napping in the bathtub. He’d used the cover to throw off the girls. I didn’t blame him for it. I’d want to get away from them, too; but he could have at least asked. Of course, until about fifteen minutes ago, I would have probably told him to go soak his head. So, I suppose I could forgive him...just this once. If he ever snuck into my room again, I hoped it would be for more than just hiding out.
Not like the room was good for much more than that, though. The floor was littered with dirty clothes, used towels, shell casings, and most of my spare ammunition. The nightstand was half-open and somehow a pair of my shorts had snuck out and were halfway to the floor. My bag was huddled under the table, mostly covered by a mound of clothing, some of it actually still clean as far as I could remember. A stray sock had managed to wedge itself between the nightstand and the bed. The bathroom was just as bad.
+God, I’m a pig.+
“I’ve seen worse,” he said. If he was trying to make me feel better, it wasn’t working. He kicked aside a lump of towels. “However, this is a little unnerving.” He plucked a magazine from under a pile of clothes. +Oops.+ The centerfold fluttered out. +Aw, shit…+ Vash arched an eyebrow. “Maybe… Maybe this wasn’t such a good idea. It’s not like I can compare to, uh...that.” he waved a hand at the glossy photo. I could feel the heat rise in my cheeks. It was one thing to just have the magazine. It was quite another to have Vash stumble on it.
I gave the magazine a look, then looked at Vash, then back to the magazine, and then back at Vash again. I smirked as the obvious finally made itself known.
“Honey, she ain’t got nothin’ on you.”
Vash blushed furiously. It started in his cheeks, moved to his ears, and then ascended to the roots of his hair. It also descended into his coat, and I found myself wanting to follow it. Which was an interesting thought.
I stalked over, grabbed the magazine and flung it across the room, never taking my eyes off of his startled ones. He opened his mouth, started to say something, and I pounced. Never waste a good opportunity.
*Oh my…*
There was a hiccup of surprise in the back of my mind when I slid my tongue into his mouth, and though I’d obviously thrown him for a loop he recovered admirably.
I let my hands drift down from where they’d come to rest on his shoulders. The thick fabric of his coat made it difficult to feel what was underneath, but it was impossible to disguise the fact that years of walking through the desert had given him a fantastic ass. I grabbed it and pulled him against me, causing another little hiccup of surprise. Those could get addicting if I wasn’t careful.
Vash’s hands had found their way into my hair now, and were pulling me to him, like he was trying to drink in my very essence through this kiss. The intensity of it all was alarming as well as intoxicating. If it was possible to get drunk from another person’s presence, I was well on my way to getting truly smashed. Best of all, there wouldn’t be a hangover in the morning. Vash broke away first, breathless, hands still tangled in my hair.
“Whoa.”
“Hum, yeah.” I agreed. His lips, as well as his cheeks, were flushed pink and his eyes were hazy. I gently brushed his cheek with my lips and let them trail down, down, to that delicious piece of flesh right underneath his earlobe. I darted my tongue over his skin experimentally and was rewarded with a soft moan. That was all the encouragement I needed. Well, that and Vash pushing at my suit jacket.
The familiar actions of giving and receiving pleasure washed over me, but this time there was a deeper, more visceral undercurrent. Everything that had come before was a diluted form of what I was feeling now. What hadn’t changed, though, was the fact that I should have known what the hell I was doing. Hell, I could probably string Vash out so far on his own pleasure that it would take him a week to recover. But as we stood there in the middle of my hotel room, everything I ever knew just sort of vanished. It all became desire, and desire became need, and need drove all other considerations completely out of my head. I ground against him, pulling him up against me until it nearly hurt. I couldn’t get close enough. Even with my tongue down his throat and my body pressed against his, it wasn’t enough, could never be enough. My fingers found a gap in Vash’s coat, between the buttons, and I pulled.
A series of short snaps, and his coat was hanging open, bits of thread and broken buttons all that remained of the closures. It slid casually off his shoulders and landed with a soft flump on the floor, next to my own jacket and shirt. Vash stumbled backwards suddenly, eyes downcast.
“Wuh-wha...?” I stuttered.
The first thing I noticed was that Vash was wearing leather. I liked leather. But as my eyes adjusted to our proximity, I realized why Vash was suddenly so self-conscious. Scars. Everywhere. Across his stomach, down his arm, peeking out from under his bodysuit wherever I looked. It was all strangely familiar, like I’d seen them before... “Where are the fucks that did that? TELL ME!” “I don’t know.” “I damn well WANT to know!” “You already FUCKING know!” I stared at him, eyes wide as the memory played back in its entirety. The anger didn’t rise this time. That option had already played itself out to its conclusion and I didn’t care to repeat that here. Besides, if he wouldn’t tell me outright, what was the point? What bothered me was the fact that Vash seemed to think I knew who had caused him pain. And the only person I could think of who was capable of that…was Legato. Maybe it was just paranoia, but the longer I stared at him, the more certain I became that he knew who and what I was.
“You knew. You knew all along and you still…?” I trailed off, unable to form my thoughts into words. How could he even stand to look at me? I’d lied to him too many times to count, I’d killed more people than I could remember, and I’d betrayed him to the one person who was capable of truly harming him.
“Well, I wouldn’t say I knew all along, but…” he shrugged, and gave me a soft smile. “I couldn’t help it.” I stared at him in disbelief. What on this planet could I possibly be worth to him? Not only that, but…
“Why?” I was truly puzzled.
Vash took a step closer. “Because…” he smiled, “You’re beautiful.”
There was a part of me that didn’t care about answers, and questions. It was the same part of me that was yearning to kiss Vash again; to memorize each scar by touch alone. But… even if Vash didn’t seem to care about my allegiances, I did. I didn’t want to. Lord knows I would have broken the ‘contract’ if I could have. Vash had to know, I had to tell him, everything.
“Do you know what they call me?” I asked. Vash’s brow furrowed in confusion. “They call me Chapel the Evergreen, the one who rings the black funeral bell.” I wasn’t sure what that admission was supposed to accomplish, but it made me feel better. The name sounded strange on my lips, though. It had always been my mentor that was ‘Chapel.’ I was…nothing. A peon in an elaborate game of chess between Legato and The Master and Vash. If I was lucky, or not, they’d call me Nicholas. There was a finality to saying that name, Chapel the Evergreen, like I’d just admitted to being a wanted criminal. I guess, in effect, I had.
“And they call me the Humanoid Typhoon, the Stampede. The one who single-handedly destroyed the city of July. But you? You don’t. You call me Needle-noggin and Broom-head. So I’ve never called you…Chapel. I never will. You’re Nicholas D. Wolfwood. And I’m Vash. Pleased to meetcha.” He stuck out his left hand. I stared at it for a moment, the crude elbow joint, the two-tone metal, the pockmarks from hits that would have shattered a flesh-and-bone arm. There was so much more to this man than I had even thought possible, and he was extending his hand to me. Me. It felt like we’d just met and that we’d known each other for years.
I shook his hand. It was cold.
“It’s Nick.” I replied.
Vash’s eyes lit up, and a flood of yellow overwhelmed me. And there was his real smile. +Sono egao o…+ I damn near melted into a puddle on the floor. About the only part of me that hadn’t gone soft was…ahem. Yeah.
I pulled Vash toward me, slowly, letting my eyes adjust so I wouldn’t lose that brilliant smile. When his face finally blurred, I wrapped my arms around him and pulled him into a gentle embrace. I tentatively ran a hand down his back, lightly tracing the scars that weren’t covered.
+So many…+
Vash pulled back, and sighed resignedly, looking away. “They’re the price I have to pay.” He said it like he thought he deserved them. I pulled his chin up until he was looking into my eyes.
“Nobody has the right to mark you like that. And, God help me, nobody ever will again.” I felt my mind expand as I said that, and wrap us both in a soft golden haze. The halo played at the edges of my vision, expanding and contracting with each breath. It was safety and protection and everything else I couldn’t name that filled me when I looked into his eyes. I promised myself then and there that his skin would never hold another scar, never be marked by another person again.
I held him there, letting the golden halo contract on him until it no longer held me, but was like an aura around him. An invincible aura of…protection. For the moment, it seemed to hold, to maintain its integrity and truly be the shield he needed. And then it contracted more, seemed to seep into his skin so it was a part of him, not just an external force anymore, but a true part of him. I was a part of him now. And he was a part of me. Even if iles separated us, we would never be apart again. The tunnel that had opened between us was being quickly reinforced with steel cable so strong that no one could break it.
Through that connection I was getting snippets of emotion, gold and blue, but mostly…silver. I’d seen colors like this before, but they’d never been this vibrant, and I’d never been able to pick out more than one. They were emotions, those colors, but I’d never seen gold before. Silver, however, was one I was quite familiar with. One could almost say…friendly. Silver tended to be infectious, too, and I wanted more than anything to succumb to that disease.
Anxious as I was to feel his lips on mine again, though, this time it was Vash’s step to take. I needed to know, for sure and certain, that this was what he wanted. Despite the fact that I could feel it was what he wanted, I’d never really trusted my ‘abilities,’ and I needed action to confirm the swirl of emotions in my head. I closed my eyes and waited, enjoying the feel of his body next to mine, his mind intertwined with my own.
*You still…want this?* he asked. We’d both been wondering the same damn thing. My eyes slid open to see the question echoed in bottomless blue-green.
+How can I look into your eyes, feel you in my mind, and say ‘no’?+ How could he not know that I wanted this, wanted him, more than anything, anyone, I’d ever wanted before?
“You have to tell me, Nick. Do you,” he leaned closer, “want,” and closer, “this?” As he finished the question, he was so close that I could feel his breath on my cheek. His face was a complete blur now; the only thing left in focus were his eyes.
“More than anything.”
And there were his lips on mine. God, it was Heaven all over again. Every muscle in my body seemed to relax as he pressed his mouth more firmly over mine. It’s probably a small miracle that I remained standing at all. Vash wrapped an arm around me, pulling me closer. My own arms circled him, one hand burying itself in his tousled hair. He slid his tongue, almost shyly, into my mouth, coaxing an all-too-willing response.
My lips feathered over his cheek, and I whispered in his ear, “More.”
Vash shivered, and I pulled him into a fierce embrace, trying to pull him into me so we would be…
*More?*
“Yes,” I breathed into his ear. “Just…yes.”
I felt, rather than heard, Vash’s response to my lips brushing against his ear. It was like a cat’s purr, only deeper and more resonant.
The haze in Vash’s mind must have lifted a bit, because he was suddenly moving, his hands sliding across my back and fisting in my hair. His lips found my neck and began kissing their way up to my ear. I let my head fall back, allowing the sensation to wash over me, drown me. His lips moved up along my ear. The breath I didn’t realize I’d been holding escaped in one huge rush as his tongue played along the outer edge, drawing my earlobe into his mouth. He bit, gently, and drew back, running his left thumb over my cheek. The hand was cool, almost otherworldly. It certainly looked like flesh covering the mechanics that I knew to be underneath, but it didn’t feel like it. Besides being cold, it was firmer than skin and smelled vaguely like gunpowder.
But I didn’t really care. He was touching me, and it sent lightning through every pore. I turned and kissed his palm. I met his eyes again, and just drank him in for a few moments. He was truly gorgeous. I’d noticed it before; but here, now, the observation seemed to take on new meaning. It wasn’t just the physicality of it anymore. His entire being was awe-inspiring. Goddammit, I was feeling tender, and I wasn’t used to it. I’d never just wanted to hold someone before, just feel them next to me and be content with that. But it was obvious that even if nothing else happened tonight, I would be satisfied. My body wouldn’t exactly be content with that plan of action, but my soul would be at peace.
*Let’s just hope he doesn’t laugh me out of the room...* Vash’s thought floated through my head.
+Why would I laugh at you?+
Vash looked at the floor, blushing furiously.
“I...I’ve, uhm...”
“Shit, you’ve never done this before, have you?” I asked, and then, despite the fact that it was kind of mean, and exactly the opposite of what Vash wanted me to do, I burst out laughing. He just blushed harder, and corrected me.
“I’ve never done anything like this before.”
“Goddamn, on top of everything else, you’re innocent too.” Well, hell. I suppose in the grand scheme of things it didn’t much matter, but there was something about that admission that bothered me. I mean, Vash was a virgin? Good Lord, what had that boy been doing his whole life?
*Goddammit, I knew you were going to laugh at me.*
+Sorry.+ I tried to suppress another snicker. +It’s just…hard to believe.+ Vash gave me this…look that was something of a mix between flattered and affronted.
“Oh?”
“Well…” I flailed my hands at him, trying to find gestures that would express something, because words failed me. “I mean, yeah.”
Vash looked like he was about to burst out laughing at me. “I’m pretty sure that was supposed to be a compliment, but I’m not sure how.”
“So I lack eloquence. So what?” I bent down and retrieved my jacket from the floor, picked out my smokes, lit one, and sat down at the table. Vash stood rooted to the floor, mouth slightly ajar.
“I can almost hear the stupid look on your face. What?”
There were about seventeen facial expressions vying for dominance of Vash’s features. Awe looked to be winning out as he stammered, “I…you…that…” His face twisted, “Ow.”
“Okay, now who’s stammering around. Spit it out, will ya?”
“Perhaps it might have escaped your notice, but you have a fucking huge tattoo across your back.”
“Oh yeah. My tattoo. Heh.” Truth be told, It’d completely skipped my mind.
“Did it hurt?”
I grinned. +Oh, you have no idea....+ “Hells yeah it hurt. Felt like I was being etched by acid.” The ‘you dumbass’ was left unspoken. I snubbed out the cigarette, stood up and turned around, stretching my arms out to the sides. “Take a look.”
Vash hadn’t been the first to comment on the huge black and red bird tattooed on my back, but he was the first I’d let look at it with the lights on. The artist had done an excellent cover-up, but some of the scarring was still visible through the ink.
I heard Vash’s footsteps behind me, and felt him tentatively run his fingers over my back. They were feather-light, and it felt like he was tracing every outline, all the way up to my neck, down to the small of my back, and out to each shoulder. It sent shivers down my spine, and goose bumps appeared on my stomach. He traced my tattoo the way I’d traced his scars.
“If my scars were this beautiful, I’d be a work of art,” he murmured. I turned around and stared into his eyes.
“You are a work of art.” I placed my hands on his shoulders. “An exquisite mixture of beauty and pain wrapped in turquoise eyes and an empty smile.” Well, the smile wasn’t empty now, but it held something other than joy. Vash’s eyes went misty, and a single tear rolled down Vash’s cheek. I went into full panic mode.
“Oh, Jesus, don’t cry. God, I’m not that bad, am I?”
Vash broke into a watery chuckle. “No, no. It’s not that. It’s just…that’s the most beautiful thing anybody’s ever said to me.” I could see the tears welling in his eyes behind his lopsided smile. That statement was beautiful and sad all in the same instant. It made me happy to think that something I’d said could have such an effect on him, but at the same time it was sad that no one else had ever told him all the things they should have. That he hadn’t had anyone care enough to…tell him the truth. I wanted to apologize for that, for everyone who’d ever made him feel less than what he was: one of the only miracles I’d ever seen.
And that miracle was staring at me with this look of joy and sorrow and…lust. I wasn’t sure how those three all came together in his expression, but they were there, plain as day. I pulled him into me once again, holding him gently but firmly, wanting to erase the black swirls that were playing at the edges of his mind.
He relaxed against my chest and returned the embrace. Even that small gesture was enough to reignite the coals that had been smoldering in my gut for God knows how long. Vash laid his head on my shoulder and exposed a smooth expanse of neck. That was more than I could take. I leaned down and ran my tongue over the vein in his neck, then bit. Not hard enough to hurt, but hard enough to make Vash gasp and arch his back. There was that little hiccup again, and I relished it, relished being the one making him respond like that. The only one who’d ever made him respond like that. And I suddenly wanted it to stay that way.
There was no turning back from it, now. We’d both shared too much to distance ourselves anymore. I was truly in over my head, and I didn’t fucking care. Vash wasn’t just another pretty face, now. I wasn’t so sure it had ever even been as simple as that. It was like our very souls had recognized each other and latched on, making it impossible for either of us to extricate ourselves. All the cares and worries I’d had disappeared when my lips touched his. The outside world completely vanished in that moment, and all that was left was Vash. And that’s all I needed, all I wanted.
+You. Are. Mine.+
*Totally.* Vash kissed along my jawbone.
*Completely.* He nipped at my ear.
*Forever.* He returned my love bite with one of his own, only a little harder. It hurt, but it was the good kind of hurt. Vash had surprisingly sharp teeth.
“Unh…”
Before I lost my senses completely, I scooped Vash up in my arms, maneuvered us over to the bed, and flung him down.
I didn’t give him a chance to recover. With a feral grin, I leapt on top of him and kissed every square inch of exposed skin. And it wasn’t enough. I tugged and pulled at some of the buckles on that frustrating jumpsuit, hoping it would give easily. It didn’t.
“Goddamnit, get out of this thing!”
“You have to let me up first.”
“Not likely. Just tell me how to do it, then.”
“There’s a clasp at the neck, three on each side, and…”
“You are never allowed to wear this again.”
“What else am I supposed to wear?”
“Nothing?” I grinned, hopeful.
“No dice.”
“Damn.” This wasn’t getting me any closer to getting the fucking thing off of him, though. Vash sat up a bit and batted my hands away.
“Just let me do it.”
“Fine.” I sat back on his thighs. I watched as he deftly, but hesitantly, undid the clasps and peeled out of the leather. He glanced up at me apologetically through a stray lock of hair. If there was anything better than Vash wearing leather, it was watching Vash remove it. Of course, then I saw the reason for his hesitance. There were a couple of major scars that the jumpsuit had covered completely. Most noticeably, a metal grate over his heart. And… I frowned.
“You don’t have nipples.” I suppose that eliminated a couple of interesting possibilities. Damn.
Vash looked down at his torso for a couple seconds.
“Hunh. You’re right,” he said, almost as surprised as I was.
I shrugged. “Oh, well.”
I bore him back down to the bed, mouth locked firmly over his.
“Mmphf!”
I only broke contact long enough to shift from his lips to his neck, and began kissing down, across his chest and continuing down his stomach. Vash purred. His hands fisted in the sheets as his hips bucked up, pressing into my chest. The leather covering his legs creaked as he moved against me. That was the next thing to go. Well, his boots first, and then the pants. I’d tried skipping that step once, with similar footwear. That’s why I don’t wear boots. Vash’s boots, however, were just as frustrating as my first obstacle had been.
“Goddamn you and your complicated clothing,” I muttered into his denim-clad thigh.
“I’m…sorry?”
“No you’re not. Just…make this easier on both of us, okay?”
“That requires that you get off of me.”
I looked up at him, rolled my eyes, and shifted off to the side. “You have to be difficult, don’t you,” I sighed as I kicked off my own shoes, shed the remainder of my clothes, and slid part way under the covers.
Vash swung his legs over the edge of the bed and started unbuckling. Even for him it took nearly fifteen seconds before he actually started yanking off the offending footwear. “I like these boots,” he muttered. His leather chap-things were next, then his jeans. This left him in his shorts. Which were black, and snug, and very, very nice. I’d been rather enjoying the little show, so I was a bit disappointed when he stopped and sat back down on the bed facing me.
“You’re not naked.”
“Well, I had to leave you something to do…”
“If you think pulling off your shorts is the only thing I get to do tonight, you’re more naïve than I thought. But it’s a good place to start.” I slid a couple of fingers under the waistband and ran them along his stomach. Vash shivered. Even if my mind hadn’t been bombarded with silver, it would have been…painfully obvious that Vash was enjoying himself, despite all the false starts and delays. And I had to admit, it was a first for me to still be so turned on without a whole lot of physical contact. I’m pretty sure it had something to do with the mental link between the two of us, that my lust was fuelled by his and vice versa in a continuous loop. All of our thoughts and emotions were open to the other’s perusal, but the strongest emotion fed on itself, built on itself, and created a circuit that could only be stopped by satisfying it or diverting it. We’d diverted the loop earlier and now it wouldn’t be sidetracked again. Not that I was complaining about that.
Vash’s eyes rolled to the ceiling as my fingers brushed along his stomach and down his hip. I tugged suggestively at the fabric, playfully hinting that I wanted him to move closer. Either he wasn’t getting the hint or he was too wrapped up in sensation to care, because he didn’t move, just let his head loll back breathing noisily through his mouth. I swear to God it was one of the most erotic things I’d seen in a very long time.
I wrapped my free arm around his stomach and pulled him down across the bed so he was sort of lying across my lap, his legs dangling off the side of the bed. I leaned down to kiss him, the odd angle making my neck twist around until it almost hurt. I tugged again at his shorts, but found that the angle was all wrong. I shifted until I got an easy grip on the black fabric and pushed them down around his thighs. I glanced down, checking to make sure that everything was okay. It was more than okay. Much more than okay.
+Hot damn.+
*Wha…?* Came Vash’s groggy reply. I was actually surprised he had enough presence of mind to form a thought, considering that all I’d gotten from him for the past two minutes was a continual wash of silver, lined with gold and flecks of greenish-blue. I decided to answer his question with a gesture. I ran my hand up along his inner thigh and teased my fingertips through blond curls. I got a soft moan and gritted teeth for my trouble.
I was both alarmed and aroused by how easy it was to make Vash respond to me. I wanted to enjoy him, dammit, and for a lot longer than the fifteen minutes it was shaping up to be. But then again, this moment wasn’t really about me, was it? I shifted again, kneeling on the floor beside the bed now, and I saw Vash’s hair poke up over the side.
*Nick?*
+Yeeesss?+
*Uhm…?* How…adorable.
+Relax. Enjoy. Don’t worry.+ I made up my mind then and there that this would be the best blowjob I’d ever given. End of story. I pulled his shorts down the rest of the way and threw them behind me. I eased between his thighs, nudging his knees apart with kisses. He resisted a little at first, unsure of what I was up to probably. I tried to send reassurance through the link, but I think it sort of got lost in the huge rush of silver as I slid my tongue over his inner thigh. I lifted his hips slightly, hooking my arms under his legs, and pulled him across the bed toward me. My hands slid over his stomach, fascinated by the muscle. He’d always looked so scrawny under that coat.
I laid a kiss on his thigh again, and trailed my tongue up, up, across his stomach. Oh, I knew I was teasing, paying attention to everything except where he wanted me. A part of me wanted to hear him ask for it, beg for it, tell me he wanted this, but from the relentless silvery-white trying to take over my mind, I knew I wasn’t going to get anything but moans and…Vash’s hands fisting in my hair. He was pushing and pulling, not knowing what to do but knowing something had to be done. He tried desperately to keep his hips on the bed, but failed. He thrust up against me instinctively. I untangled one hand, then the other from my hair so I could actually move. Then, slowly, I slid my tongue over the very tip of his cock, a single drop of bittersweet liquid promising much more.
Vash sucked in a breath, and the hands that I had just untangled from my hair fisted in the sheets. I licked my lips and slid down over the head, sucking gently and flicking my tongue. I wasn’t expecting that to cause him to buck his hips so hard I almost choked.
+Whoa! One more move like that, and I won’t be able to finish.+ There was a flash of irritation at that, but his hips sank back down to the bed.
Well, now that I knew what he wanted… I opened my throat and buried my nose in those soft blond curls. This not only got me another hiccup of surprise, it nearly got me bucked off the damn bed. +Screw it. You move at all and I leave. Got it?+ A weak nod and heavy breathing were all I got in response. I decided it might be a good idea to test his comprehension about that little conversation. I teased mercilessly, lightly flicking my tongue over him until I could feel his urge to thrust so strongly in my mind I was surprised he could restrain it. He did start whining, though, high-pitched and breathy.
+Good boy.+
Vash actually growled.
“Ju-just call me S-Spot.” he replied aloud.
+If I do, will you sit up and beg?+ Now there was a mental image.
“You...told me...not to move. Make...up...your m-mind.” Like there was a choice in the matter.
+Okay.+ And once again I took him all the way down. The whine resumed, getting louder and lower with every plunge until Vash was almost screaming. I could also feel the last of the barriers between our minds slip as Vash’s pleasure kept escalating. Suddenly, they all gave way at once, and I was bombarded by his mind, submerged in sensations that weren’t my own. His mind surged through mine, pulsing with my rhythm. It took all the will-power I had not to just curl up and drown in it. And the intensity was unlike anything I’d ever felt before. It was pure ecstasy fueled by something much more powerful than simple desire.
Vash clutched at the sheets, and forced himself deep into my throat as his hips bucked off the bed one last time. His world, and mine, became a flash of blinding white, and then momentary nothingness. I drank him in, every last drop, and found myself wishing there were a little bit more. He was sweet. Sweet like fruit was sweet. The implications of that little bit of information were lost as I shuddered against him, riding his wave to my own release. I tried to stop my mind from spilling over into his, but it was a lost cause. Just as I had received Vash’s torrent of thoughts, or lack thereof, I was broadcasting mine to him. Which had the added effect of arousing Vash again, not even seconds later.
Apparently, the loop we’d activated hadn’t been satisfied yet. Which was a little bit difficult to believe on my end, but it was readily apparent as Vash’s erection twitched in my hand. I slid my hand over him, slowly, not quite sure if this was as good a thing as it appeared to be.
*Jesuschristonastickdontstop. Don’t. Ever. Stop.*
I suppose that answered that. And what was that about wanting more? Ask and ye shall receive, on both counts.
As I brought him up over the point of no return again, the wave hit me full force. Hit me, and then passed through me. I turned into Vash’s thigh and bit hard as the second wave brought me over the edge again as well. Goddamn, that almost hurt. Vash was whimpering; tiny breathy noises that were a mixture of exhaustion and euphoria. I hauled myself up on the bed beside him.
I lay there, trying to catch my breath for God knows how long. As far as I could tell, it could have been minutes or hours or years. I was almost on the point of drifting off to sleep when Vash rolled onto his elbow.
“Well, that went well.” I heard the smirk behind his words. And ‘well,’ was the understatement of the century as far as I was concerned. However…
“You moved.” Not that it mattered much in the grand scheme of things, but it was the principle of the thing, dammit.
“Well, I’m sure as hell not moving now, so I guess that makes up for it. But if you’re still determined to leave, let’s put it this way: If you can actually walk, I won’t stop you.”
I thought about that for a minute, then shifted a bit, weighing my options. Not that I’d actually leave, but I really wasn’t sure if I could walk or not. The consensus from my body was a resounding, ‘no.’ It didn’t help that Vash had sort of shoved my soft pallet into my nose with that first thrust, either.
“Ugh, I’m going to have a sore throat in the morning, and I can’t even return the favor.”
“That’s beside the point.” Vash grinned. I rolled over to face him, gave him a good once-over, then reached down and wrapped my hand around him.
“No, this is the point.” I snickered and tugged gently.
“Umm, I wouldn’t do that if I were you…” I let go as his growing erection suddenly twitched in my hand.
“Jesus Christ, what are you?” I was half-thinking that he was some kind of sex god, sent here to completely tap my entire reserve of energy. He’d already done a fair job of that, and round three was beginning just a little too quickly. Not that I hadn’t entertained ideas of that, but I needed at least a few minutes to recover. Vash looked at me in all seriousness.
“I’m a plant. Mostly, anyways.” +A WHAT?+ I’d had my suspicions that he wasn’t human, but I guess I sort of expected him to be like me, ‘modified,’ or something. One of Doc’s little experiments gone wrong. This little fact threw me completely.
“Come again?”
“Can you please not use that unfortunate phrasing? A simple ‘what’ would suffice.” +Oh for the love of…+
“Fine. What?!”
“I said - ,”
“Yeah, yeah, I heard that part.” I interrupted. I’d heard what he said, but I wasn’t sure that could be right. I mean, plants were huge and blue and creepy. Vash was not huge, at least, not that way, and he definitely wasn’t blue. And he sure as hell wasn’t creepy. “But, I mean, what?”
“If by ‘what’ you mean ‘how,’ I’m not entirely sure. We-I was probably part of some scientific experiment, if I had to make an educated guess about it. Maybe a process to remove the need for the plants’ bulbs, or create a way for them to breed. I’d say at least a good 15-20% of my genetic structure is human, but the rest of me…”
I stared at him. Stared at him long and hard, trying to process what he’d just said. Vash was a plant. Not only a plant, but some weird human/plant hybrid thing. I saw the plant bulbs in my head, glowing that eerie iridescent blue that meant they were functional. That blue. And I suddenly saw Vash’s eyes in the dark little street earlier tonight. It was the same damn color. I snorted.
“Well, that explains a lot.”
Vash actually laughed. “Yeah, I suppose it does, doesn’t it.”
“Is that why? Why we-they- why they’re after you?”
Vash thought about that for a few seconds, then said, “To be perfectly honest with you, I don’t know if that has much, if any, bearing on it. At any rate, its not the sole reason.”
“Then…why? I mean, if not that…”
“That’s ‘what’, ‘how’, and ‘why’ you’ve asked me now. All that’s left is ‘where’ and ‘who.’” Those, of course, were the easy questions.
“I know the ‘where.’ That’s pretty obvious, isn’t it? And ‘who’? I think I’ve got a pretty good idea about that one too.” The ‘where’ was July. And the ‘who’ was more than likely Legato.
“Do you?” Vash frowned slightly. “I thought you did, too, but now I’m thinking you haven’t looked far enough up the chain of command, so to speak. But once you do, you’ll get the answers to all your questions and then some.”
“I’ve never had the answers to all my questions.” Nobody ever told me a goddamn thing, actually, other than propaganda and spin. And bullshit. I got a lot of bullshit. “And frankly, I don’t think I want them. Because anybody who’s got a one-up on Legato Bluesummers has got to be one scary motherfucker.” The only one who I’d ever seen even touch Legato, in any way shape or form was me, and that was an accident. Well, and Dante, but that was a whole other story.
“He wasn’t always that way,” Vash replied. He sounded almost…nostalgic. Sad.
“Who? Legato?” Jesus Christ, I’d basically grown up with the fucker. He’d always been scary, and I had the proof.
“No. The ‘scary motherfucker.’”
“You know him?” That shouldn’t have surprised me, given everything we’d been talking about, but hearing him actually say it was a little startling. +Sharp, man. Real sharp.+
“I did, once. It was…a very long time ago.”
Vash looked up at the ceiling and a sigh caught in his throat. Seeing him with that look of sorrow on his face inspired me to do something I’d only done maybe three times in my entire life. I apologized.
“I’m…I’m sorry.” What I was apologizing for wasn’t really clear to me, but it was obvious that it needed to be said. Maybe I was sorry that he knew the guy, or maybe I was trying to apologize for him, because it was obvious that he’d caused Vash some kind of pain that I couldn’t protect him from. And maybe I was sorry that I couldn’t do anything to help.
“Don’t be. It wasn’t your fault. And, technically, I suppose it wasn’t his fault either…but if he hadn’t done what he did, she wouldn’t have died then.” He said ‘she’ with a reverence that I knew he only reserved for one person, and one person alone. Rem.
“It was him? Who…killed her? Fuck.”
“Yeah, that about sums it up. Fuck.”
It sort of made me wish there were an even more potent expletive to use. We’d both had someone incredibly important to us die. For me, it was Aunt Kaede. Obasan. And I couldn’t help but think that if Uncle Roger hadn’t done what he did, she wouldn’t have died then, either. If Uncle Roger hadn’t pulled his gun, or even had it on him that night, my life could have been very different.
I’d been in the living room listening to the radio when he got home from the bar that night and Obasan had gone into the kitchen to talk to him about sending me to school. I’d been really excited about it, I remember that much. Uncle Roger had been less than enthusiastic about wasting his “hard earned money trying to educate that good-for-nothing idiot.” He’d never had problems wasting that money on liquor, though. As Obasan kept at him, I could hear Uncle Roger’s voice take on that dangerous tone. And when I’d heard the breaking glass, I’d scrambled to the kitchen door, not sure what I could do to ease the situation, but knowing I had to do something. I’d swung the door open just in time to see him pull the trigger.
It had sort of looked like syrup, oozing down the wall in a dark mass. But it was the wrong color. Her eyes had been open wide, frightened, and they stayed that way as she slowly sank to the floor, smearing the syrup over the wallpaper I’d helped her put up three months ago. I’d stood there, unable to move, unable to think, as Uncle Roger put the gun back in his vest and calmly sat back down at the table to pour himself a nightcap. That’s when he saw me. And that’s when I got my first whipping. I’ll give him this, Uncle Roger was good, because he knew how to make it hurt and how to make it bruise and how to keep from breaking bones. And he also knew to stop before I lost consciousness so I’d have to fall asleep, or try to, with those marks pulsing hot across my skin.
Uncle Roger had killed her, point blank, and I’d watched her die.
“I guess the real difference between you and me is that I paid him back. In full.” It had been so easy. Too easy. All I’d had to do was pull the trigger and he’d turned into smoldering heap of flesh. I remembered having to choke back the maniacal laughter as I emptied the entire clip into his gut. Even now I get this twisted, sick feeling in my stomach when I remember how much joy I got out of ending his life. I suppose I should just be thankful that I never got that feeling again. “I told you before, I’m no saint.” I stared at the ceiling, memorizing the swirl pattern in the plaster.
“And I’m sure as hell no angel, regardless of what you might think. If there’s any question of that in your mind, just go look at the ruins of July.”
“Been there. Done that,” I replied. Chapel and Leonoff had taken us out there, some time during my second year there. Parts of the city had been buried in sand so deep it would have covered my head. All I could see were chunks of buildings sticking up out of the desert. And crowning them all, the remains of a plant bulb, blackened and charred from the inside.
“July happened, what, thirty years ago?” Vash asked.
“Twenty-four, actually.” I replied.
“How old do I look to you, Nick?” The hell? If he was asking, it must be older than he looked, then. I squinted at him for a couple of seconds, gauging my answer very carefully. I was pretty sure I’d get it wrong no matter what I guessed by the way he asked the question.
“My age, maybe a couple of years younger.” It was the best guess I could come up with. Nobody I knew could have a world-weary look about them unless they’d been on this planet for more than twenty-five years. Vash looked surprised. Maybe I’d actually gotten it right?
“Tack another hundred years onto that, and you’re about right.” I had to struggle to keep my jaw from dropping. A hundred and thirty? I couldn’t have heard that right. But if that was the case…I did some quick math in my head.
“That…that means…you came down with the ships.” And if he was on the ships then maybe… “Did you see Earth? Did you…know it?” I’d heard family stories of our ‘home,’ from Obasan. It was worth a shot to get some first-hand stories. Everything I’d heard always sounded too fantastic to believe. Water as far as the eye could see. And…yuki. Obasan had told many, many stories about yuki. How it would fall, softly, making the whole landscape white. I used to close my eyes and try to imagine standing outside while it fell all around me, wet and cold.
Vash chuckled softly. “No, I’m not quite that old. But…she did.”
“Rem.” I almost whispered the name, rather awe-struck with her. I didn’t even know her from Eve, but Vash revered her and she was from Earth. That alone made her name worthy of respect. Vash had known somebody from Earth. Had lived on the ships. Had lived here for over a hundred years. “You do lead an eventful life, just like they say.”
“Heh. I’ve heard that before.”
I smirked. “Must be true, then.”
Vash smiled. “Gospel.” I shook my head at his corny attempt to inject a little bit of humor into a conversation that had taken an incredibly somber tone. Vash shivered a little and wrapped his arms around his chest. “Brr, I’m getting really cold,” he said. I stared at him and opened my mouth to ask how the hell he could be cold in this room when it had to be a good seventy-five degrees in here when he cut me off. “Don’t say anything. Just…get off the covers.”
I frowned in confusion, but did as he requested. I watched him wrap himself in the blankets, and I wanted to crawl in there with him, but I held back. It was stupid of me, really, after what just happened. I knew he wouldn’t say no. But all my insecurities came back to haunt me, and I felt pathetic just standing there with his eyes on me. He’d been through more than I could ever imagine, and had come out of it with his ideals intact. His strength of will was awe-inspiring. Comparatively, my own bout in hell had been…laughable.
I watched as Vash’s face morphed from a comfortable blank to a frown, and then to a scowl.
“What?” he spat. “I’m not good enough to sleep with now, is that it?”
The question came out of left field, and it wasn’t even the right question. The question was, was I good enough.
“You’re not good enough.” I mocked his tone. “You’re not good enough?” I whirled around and stalked over to the table, flung myself into a chair and lit a cigarette. “I shouldn’t even be able to,” I flailed my arms uselessly at the space between us, trying to find the word in my frustrated mind, “touch you.”
“And why is that? Where the hell did you get the idea that I was any better than anyone else? I told you I’m no angel. Hell, one of the Gung-Ho Guns themselves called me the Diablo, the devil. You’ve seen what I’m capable of doing; you almost witnessed it first hand. What on earth makes you feel unworthy of me? Of me? I don’t deserve that kind of regard. I deserve,” he paused and opened his arms, looking down at his torso, “I deserve this.”
I sat there smoking, watching him fuming in vain. I couldn’t believe that he really didn’t know why I would think myself so unworthy? How could I not, when my answer to everything was ‘kill,’ and his was, ‘save?’ I was just a drunken, violent bastard that destroyed everything in his path, ended lives, and pretended to be a man of God.
“If anybody deserves those scars, it’s me. If I could take them from you, I would.”
“WHY?”
“Because the only time people get hurt around you, it’s an accident. When they get hurt around me…it’s on purpose.” I snubbed out my cigarette and lit a fresh one.
“Who’s purpose?” Vash spat. I tried to think back, tried to put a reason behind every single person I’d killed, and I couldn’t remember. There were a few that were obvious; Uncle Roger, the second in command of the Bad Lads, a couple of the Nebraska cousins. But the rest? There were hundreds of people I’d killed for what seemed like no particular reason at all.
“God’s?” I asked, looking out the dirty window at the night sky. The glass was so filmy that the light of the room reflected in it and made it impossible to see the stars. I wished suddenly that I knew where the Dragon was in the sky tonight. It always gave me a sense of connection, some weird sense that I belonged somewhere that wasn’t full of death.
“Don’t give me that.”
“Don’t give you what?” I shot back at him, frustration quickly reaching the boiling point into anger.
“That…that…load of complete and utter bullshit.” Oh, this was rich. Vash was accusing me of giving him bullshit, when he did the same to me. Once after we fought the machines, and once last night. And who could forget the fiasco with Julian and Moore? He’d fooled Millie with that performance.
“I could ask the same thing about you.”
“What? Do yourself a favor, Nick. Don’t be cryptic. It doesn’t suit you.” Doesn’t suit me, huh? No, it probably didn’t, he was right about that. I couldn’t be cryptic if my life depended on it. Oddly enough, it did now, and I still had a hard time with it.
“Fine, Mr. I-don’t-know-who-the-hell-shot-my-arm-off.” I snubbed out my cigarette and crossed my arms over my chest for emphasis.
“Oh, that wasn’t me being cryptic, that was me saving your sorry, drunken hide. If I’d told you, you would have gone tearing off after your own employer,” +Say what?+ “and I can’t help but think that would have been a bad thing. But you do have a point, I suppose.”
“My employer, huh? It figures.” It would just figure that the guy who blew Vash’s arm away was the guy that paid me the ‘big bucks.’
“You know, I’d say that I guess you have your secrets and I have mine, but it looks like they’re the same Goddamn secret.”
“Sure does. Imagine that.” That made a helluva lot of sense. It explained quite a bit about why Legato and The Master would be so reluctant to have one of their own in actual contact with Vash. Not to mention the fact that he wasn’t anything like the rumors. It’s kinda hard to hate a guy who’s so…idiotic. And I meant that in the nicest way possible.
“You know,” Vash said, grimacing, “there are some days when I really hate my life.”
“Yep.” That sentiment was shared and completely understood. The days when I didn’t hate my life were few and far between indeed.
I lit another cigarette and let the slow nicotine burn find its way down my throat and into my chest before exhaling. I suddenly had an urge to pour myself a shot. It was probably just habit, but I found that the more I thought about not having a shot, the more I wanted one. I closed my eyes and let my head loll back over the chair. I squeezed my eyes tighter. I took another drag. Upside-down. I sat back up and ashed into the glass tray on the table. I still wanted a drink.
“You gonna sit there all night?” Vash asked. I cocked an eyebrow. “Because I’m not exactly getting any warmer over here.” I smirked. +Not exactly getting any warmer over here, either.+ The invitation was unmistakable. Whether or not I had any place responding to it, was still unanswered. But…
“Can’t have you getting all cold on us, now, can we?”
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