I've got your back, a Trigun giftfic
Fandom: Trigun
Pairing: gen. or Wolfwood/Vash if you squint
Spoilers: none
Warnings: worksafe and fluffy
Disclaimer: owned by Nightow, lucky dog. Not me
A/N: long overdue giftfic for pretentioustfu
Vash lay on his bed in the shared hotel room, unable to relax, unable to sleep. The closer he got to confronting Knives the worse the violence became. So many innocent people hurt, and he just couldn't save them all. It wasn't possible. Still, Vash couldn't help the feelings of failure. No one deserved to be caught in the war between Knives and himself.
He shifted for the umpteenth time on the sagging bed, making the bed springs squeak despite his caution. Wolfwood stirred and Vash held his breath. The priest didn't need to be bothered with his night time ruminations.
"What's on your mind, Spiky?"
Damn.
"Nothing."
Vash heard Wolfwood turn over to face him on the opposite bed.
"That's just utter bullshit, Spiky. You're sleeping less all the time. You're even eating less, and I didn't think that was possible."
Vash snorted a quiet laugh. "Nice to know you care about my eating habits, Nick."
The silence went on for so long Vash thought Wolfwood had fallen back into slumber. He was lost in thought again and nearly jumped when he felt the bed dip under Wolfwood's weight. The priest sat on the side of the bed and laid a hand on Vash's chest.
"I care. I can see how this is tearing you apart. You can't hide it all the time, Spiky."
Vash sighed and placed his hand over Wolfwood's to give it a gentle squeeze.
"It's just...so many deaths, Nick, so many needless, pointless deaths. I'm failing so badly...myself, Rem, the people."
"The same people who are responsible for all these scars?" Wolfwood asked and traced a fingertip over some of the hideously gnarled tissue on Vash's exposed chest.
"Most of them are just afraid, and they have every reason, every right to be."
"Again, bullshit!" Wolfwood said fiercely and leaned over Vash until they were nose to nose. "Did you ever think, at all, that isn't a war you should have to fight by yourself? Did you ever think that the *people* should have some responsibility in protecting themselves?"
"Nick..."
"You didn't, did you? You never, ever thought to ask for help of any kind. Well, you have *my* help, you stupid broom head, whether you want it or not, and *I* care."
Vash's real smile, the one that was rarely seen, made a slow appearance in the dim light. Wolfwood climbed into the bed and spooned against Vash's back, holding him in a tight embrace and giving him the comfort he would never ask for, never truly believed he had the right to ask for from anyone.
"Go to sleep, Vash," Wolfwood mumbled into the blond spikes. "Take some of that love and peace you preach for yourself for once. I've got your back."
Pairing: gen. or Wolfwood/Vash if you squint
Spoilers: none
Warnings: worksafe and fluffy
Disclaimer: owned by Nightow, lucky dog. Not me
A/N: long overdue giftfic for pretentioustfu
Vash lay on his bed in the shared hotel room, unable to relax, unable to sleep. The closer he got to confronting Knives the worse the violence became. So many innocent people hurt, and he just couldn't save them all. It wasn't possible. Still, Vash couldn't help the feelings of failure. No one deserved to be caught in the war between Knives and himself.
He shifted for the umpteenth time on the sagging bed, making the bed springs squeak despite his caution. Wolfwood stirred and Vash held his breath. The priest didn't need to be bothered with his night time ruminations.
"What's on your mind, Spiky?"
Damn.
"Nothing."
Vash heard Wolfwood turn over to face him on the opposite bed.
"That's just utter bullshit, Spiky. You're sleeping less all the time. You're even eating less, and I didn't think that was possible."
Vash snorted a quiet laugh. "Nice to know you care about my eating habits, Nick."
The silence went on for so long Vash thought Wolfwood had fallen back into slumber. He was lost in thought again and nearly jumped when he felt the bed dip under Wolfwood's weight. The priest sat on the side of the bed and laid a hand on Vash's chest.
"I care. I can see how this is tearing you apart. You can't hide it all the time, Spiky."
Vash sighed and placed his hand over Wolfwood's to give it a gentle squeeze.
"It's just...so many deaths, Nick, so many needless, pointless deaths. I'm failing so badly...myself, Rem, the people."
"The same people who are responsible for all these scars?" Wolfwood asked and traced a fingertip over some of the hideously gnarled tissue on Vash's exposed chest.
"Most of them are just afraid, and they have every reason, every right to be."
"Again, bullshit!" Wolfwood said fiercely and leaned over Vash until they were nose to nose. "Did you ever think, at all, that isn't a war you should have to fight by yourself? Did you ever think that the *people* should have some responsibility in protecting themselves?"
"Nick..."
"You didn't, did you? You never, ever thought to ask for help of any kind. Well, you have *my* help, you stupid broom head, whether you want it or not, and *I* care."
Vash's real smile, the one that was rarely seen, made a slow appearance in the dim light. Wolfwood climbed into the bed and spooned against Vash's back, holding him in a tight embrace and giving him the comfort he would never ask for, never truly believed he had the right to ask for from anyone.
"Go to sleep, Vash," Wolfwood mumbled into the blond spikes. "Take some of that love and peace you preach for yourself for once. I've got your back."