Word Count: 1275
Trigun, Wolfwood/Vash: betrayal - thirty pieces of silver.
Warning(s): Present tense. Sex (of the not so graphic kind). Some bracket abuse, but much milder than is my usual style. Self-edited.
Notes: I don't know if this is what you wanted, OP. I have no idea at all. And late because, again, I got sidetracked by far too many things last month D:
The problem with Vash has always been that, while he's got a great aim and can fight tooth and nail like any other guy out there, he's also a stupid, idealistic fool.
Wolfwood realises it yet again the moment Vash fails to kill one of the crazy fucks who's after them - no him - when, in fact, he could have very well just shot him in the head (a mercy kill, the sort that every kid could do). But he didn't, so they're both on the run now: Vash because it's part of his lifestyle and Wolfwood because, for some inane reason or the other, got hopelessly entangled in Vash's various encounters with the stupid and absurd.
His lungs hurt, and he feels dizzy from all the running; his back is fucking aching too, and irritation flares up in him when Vash - they've run so far now that they can finally, finally rest - looks at him and just smiles one of those stupid smiles (it's still not reaching his eyes, never his eyes) and says, "Fun, wasn't it?"
"Just hold your tongue, Vash." Wolfwood doesn't really have the time or patience to deal with that sort of guy. And yet, part of him agrees with Vash that all of this is pretty fun in its own way.
The more time Wolfwood spends with Vash, the more he realises that certain mannerisms of Vash's are … more than just annoying. Take, for example, the way that stupid idiot is always humming, dancing or singing in the morning.
"Can't you just quit that noise?" Wolfwood half roars, half says to Vash when he's - yet again - woken up by Vash's loud - and Wolfwood will admit to that - surprisingly decent rendition of a popular bar song.
Vash looks at him, puzzled. "But it's a beautiful morning, and the best way to greet a new day is by …,"Wolfwood can't believe it, but Vash really is dancing (not gracefully, mind you but like one of those drunken old men remembering their first love),"why don't you sing along, Wolfwood?"
Wolfwood rolls his eyes, pulls the bed sheets over his head and prays to whatever the hell is up there that some kind of rock will fall out of the sky and just land on Vash's head.
Nothing happens though. And so, he's forced to endure Vash's cheerful humming.
When it comes down to it, he really just thinks Vash is a fucking nutcase.
He'll flirt and say indecent things to women, who'll - in turn - punch him in the face or just huff and walk away in disgust. And yet, when he has the chance to have sex, Vash doesn't do it. It's strange and Wolfwood (he's a priest, yes, but he's not below fornicating every now and then) often wonders how it is that Vash can live with that kind of frustration. With all the fighting and running away, Wolfwood wonders how the man hasn't cracked yet.
And it's not like Vash is even ugly. No not all, Wolfwood thinks. In fact, Vash could probably have more than enough sex if he wanted to.
They're in the bedroom now, and Vash has just had a shower. He's not wearing a shirt and he's got a towel loosely wrapped around his shoulders. And Wolfwood can see - the room is bathed in light from the flickering bulb hanging above them - that Vash is lean and muscular. Most people would probably call him sexy. Even the scars -
"Is it because of the scars?"
"Huh?" Vash doesn't get it.
Wolfwood sighs. He really should learn how to ask better questions, but knows that - if he asked them too directly - Vash would just avoid the topic. "Don't you accept sexual favours because of your scars?"
Ah, he's uncomfortable and his eyes are blazing with something … incredibly sad. Wolfwood nearly feels sorry. Nearly. But then he doesn't because the scars are Vash's own doing; they are proof of Vash's useless idealism. Idealism that doesn't work because it won't save anyone in the end and only results in hurting Vash himself.
"Well," Vash laughs awkwardly, "they're not exactly pretty." He drapes the towel over a chair, and is about to switch the light off but Wolfwood walks right up to him.
"You know, I don't mind the scars."
"What do you -" But Vash never gets to finish because Wolfwood grabs him by his hand, and drags him to the bed, pushing him down. Vash opens his mouth to say something, but it's too late because Wolfwood is already kissing him, and sticking his tongue in.
And fuck, he thinks, it feels good.
Wolfwood doesn't know why he's doing this, but it doesn't matter. Maybe he's bored. Or just frustrated himself. Or he just wants to see how far he can push Vash before he snaps.
Vash doesn't kiss back at first, but when he does it's awkward and Wolfwood's eyes widen at the realisation that no man who kisses like this (tentatively and like some little maiden) has ever gotten past first stage.
Vash is a virgin. Wolfwood doesn't know whether it's hilarious or just plain sad.
Wolfwood blames loneliness and frustration for what he's currently doing with and to Vash.
Ever since that stupid night - that night where he just kissed him and Vash permitted it - Wolfwood can't get enough of that idiot.
Well, he's already fucking Vash (it's come this far already) and Vash, for all that he's tried to push him away (we shouldn't be doing this, Wolfwood and it won't end well) is pretty damn vocal and demanding -
"Please, ahhh - Wolfwood," he's mumbling, his eyes burning with need and face flushed as Wolfwood is thrusting in and out of him (he's so tight, so fucking tight and feels great, better than all the people Wolfwood has slept with up to this date).
Must be the long pent up sexual frustration, Wolfwood thinks as he drives into Vash again, feeling those strong hands gripping his shoulders and even stronger legs wrapped around his waist. He does it faster now, harder - knowing that Vash can take it, wants to take it even. He's a bit of masochist, after all.
"You like this, Vash?"
But Vash's just moaning now and gripping him harder (eyes closed and face flushed even more), and Wolfwood chuckles. He just got his answer right there.
Sometimes, when Wolfwood wakes up in the middle of the night (it's not only Vash who has nightmares, but him too), he thinks of leaving everything behind - Vash is too dangerous, too raw, too real.
Yes, the sex is great, but Wolfwood is slowly forgetting just what kind of man he is. He's the sort of man who's managed to survive by abiding to three simple rules.
Rule number one: Don't get too involved.
Rule number two: Leave when it gets too messy.
Rule number three: Always think of the money.
It would be easy for me, he thinks, to betray Vash.
He'd get more than thirty pieces of silver for it. He'd probably get enough to be able to quit this disgusting job, and be a real priest. The kids would be happy, he'd be happy, everyone would be happ-
But, as he looks at Vash's sleeping form (he looks innocent and unassuming like this), Wolfwood realises that he's already broken the first two rules and that he'll break the third one too.
Because being with Vash is worth more than all the silvers coins in this world.