Title: Blurred Lines
Rating: PG-13
Pairings/Characters: Vash/Wolfwood
Disclaimer: I don't own Trigun, its characters, etc. All belong to its respective owners - Nightow, etc.
Warnings: m/m, brief language
Summary: Wolfwood wakes up to find Vash in bed with him. Cue the struggle of wanting to remain "just friends"!
Sunlight poured in through the large, open window of the room, and Wolfwood made a noise of irritation from waking up to the bright light in his eyes. He sat up, reached for his pack of cigarettes and lighter on the nightstand, and was about to ignite the tip of one when he realized he wasn't alone.
Oh shit; how did I forget?
Lying on his stomach next to the priest with the sheet down at his waist, leaving his upper naked half exposed, was the infamous Vash the Stampede. Wolfwood didn't have to look to see if the rest of the outlaw was clothed or not – the previous night's activities were coming back to him fast.
Dear Lord, what the hell was I thinking?!
He rubbed his face furiously with his hands in an attempt to sober and wake up faster (maybe even try to erase the memory from his mind entirely) and sighed heavily. If he was lucky, Vash wouldn't make it out to be a big deal, would accept the fact it was poor judgment on both of their parts. However, if he knew Vash as well as he thought he did, he wouldn't be so fortunate. It was obvious in the way the gunman had gazed at him, had gone on to place affectionate kisses all over him and smiled so sweetly even after Wolfwood had lied down and practically feigned disinterest in his company upon having satisfied his urges. Vash was an emotional, loving being; that was the preacher's first mistake, forgetting to take those two factors in to consideration before throwing the other man on to the bed and letting his carnal desires take over.
"Need me to go slow or anything, Spikey?"
"No, I can handle it. Do whatever you want to me."
"You're sure?"
Vash ran his fingers along the length of Wolfwood's exposed cock and gave a seductive grin. "I'm sure."
The priest finally lit his cigarette just as his comrade stirred next to him. Vash breathed in deeply, opened his eyes, and exhaled slowly as he rolled on to his side. Upon spotting Wolfwood next to him, he felt giddy flutters in his stomach and smiled.
"Good morning, Nick," he murmured softly.
Wolfwood stared ahead, ignoring the words.
"Any idea what time it is?"
Nothing.
Refusing to accept the likely reason for the cold shoulder he was getting, Vash chose to believe his companion was simply still tired. After stretching for a few seconds, he sat up and prodded kindly, "Did you sleep well?"
Expelling a cloud of smoke, Wolfwood eventually answered, "Yes."
"Good, me too."
Without even having to look at the blonde, the clergyman could detect the happiness and fondness in the voice; it annoyed him and made him feel guilty all at the same time. He was worried about what would come out of Vash's mouth next. It wasn't as if he enjoyed being a "bad guy" or wanted to hurt someone he had grown to consider a close friend, but whatever he'd have to say to make Vash understand it had been the wrong thing to do, he'd say it. He rejected the feeling in his heart that suggested he had an attachment to the sixty-billion-double-dollar man now, was adamant about keeping platonic relations with him; there was simply no way he could allow himself to have different sentiments towards the outlaw after sleeping with him. Vash the Stampede was an assignment, albeit now a friend, and couldn't be anything more than that.
"So…." Vash began, somewhat timidly. He rubbed the back of his neck and cleared his throat. "Uh….Last night was….interesting."
"Indeed."
"It felt really good," he stated with a laugh.
"It wasn't bad."
The gunman placed his hand on the priest's thigh and rubbed it suggestively. He was taken aback when Wolfwood quickly pushed it off of him. "What's wrong?"
"Vash…." The preacher extinguished and discarded what was left of his cigarette in the ashtray on the nightstand. "Last night was a mistake." From the corner of his eye, he could see the expression change on the other man's face to one of sincere surprise and hurt.
"A….A mistake?" His tone made it very apparent the other man's words greatly stung him.
"Yes. It was a one-time thing that shouldn't have even happened."
"Shouldn't have hap…." he trailed off, having trouble comprehending just what Wolfwood was telling him. "Why would you say that? Nick-"
Wolfwood cringed at the use of his first name; it brought everything to a much more personal level.
"-I….You didn't feel it?"
"Feel what?"
"Anything. A connection. A….A….I don't know. Something!"
"There was nothing to feel, Spikey. Nothing but physical pleasure." It was becoming clearer to the priest with every passing second that he had experienced a more-than-friendly connection with the gunman; however, he'd be damned if he admitted that to himself, let alone to Vash.
The blonde blinked several times, tears welling in his eyes. "How….how can you say that? The way you looked at me….touched me…."
"Don't be ridiculous. It was nothing more than sex; a one night stand, if you want to give it a name." The guilt Wolfwood had was now overwhelming; he felt as if his statement gave the impression the Humanoid Typhoon had been nothing more than a prostitute to him when in reality, Vash had given him such genuine love, such gratification and bliss, both physically and emotionally.
"You can't mean that," the outlaw stated, reaching out his hand to rest on Wolfwood's shoulder; the preacher gruffly knocked it away.
"Let's do ourselves both a favor and forget this ever happened, alright?"
"Nick-"
"It didn't mean anything, Vash!" Wolfwood shouted angrily, causing his comrade to jump, startled. "Quit insisting that it did! You're only embarrassing yourself!"
He suddenly got up and walked to the opposite side of the room to regain his composure. He regretted losing his temper; Vash certainly didn't deserve being yelled at for feeling the way he did. But damn it, why did this buffoon have to get under his skin the way he did?! The gunman irritated and annoyed the hell out of him, yet despite all of that, he had become one of the most important people in Wolfwood's life, was someone he was glad to know and would always want by his side.
He was confused, to say the least. And to hide his affectionate and puzzling sentiments, he put on a stony, indifferent front.
"I'm going to shower," he muttered absently. "I'll meet you downstairs for breakfast in twenty, then we'll leave."
Not waiting for a possible rebuttal, he went in to the bathroom and shut the door. Vash was immobile for a short while, trying to wrap his head around what had just occurred. Several tears silently slid down his cheeks, which he furiously wiped away. He didn't wait long before getting up to put on his clothes and then hurriedly left the room to return to his.
Once Wolfwood was finished in the bathroom, dressed, and had gathered up his belongings, he proceeded to the inn's lobby. He wasn't surprised the other man wasn't there yet; after all, he had been pretty harsh. If he were in Vash's shoes, he wasn't sure he'd be in much of a rush to get around either.
When forty-five minutes ticked by with no sign of the Humanoid Typhoon, he began to get aggravated.
Approaching the front desk, he asked the clerk, "Hey, you didn't happen to see a guy leave here in a long red coat, did you?"
"Tall, skinny fella? Spiked blonde hair?"
"Yeah, that's the one."
"Practically ran out the door almost an hour ago."
Woflwood kept his stunned, angry reaction to himself and merely said, "Thanks."
Stepping outside, he glanced around the bustling street in hopes of spotting the outlaw. There was no trace of him.
"God damn it," he grumbled. "You're such an overly sensitive idiot, Vash."
He made his way to his motorcycle, loaded his luggage, and took a seat on the bike. Instead of starting it up, he lit a cigarette and stayed put on the off chance Vash decided to quit being, what he considered, a drama queen. In his heart, however, he knew he had sincerely hurt the gunman in a way he'd never experienced himself. Though he was reluctant to assume what Vash felt for him was love, he knew that any emotion similar to it had to be treated delicately and with the utmost care; he had done neither. What it boiled down to was he punished Vash with hostility and rejection merely because he couldn't accept the possibility of having the beginnings of feeling the same way.
After ten minutes and two cigarettes, he suddenly heard someone approaching from behind. Without even looking, he asked quietly, "Feel better? You're lucky I didn't leave you here."
"Yeah, I'm surprised you didn't; it was very considerate of you," Vash replied bitterly, making Wolfwood flinch as if the words had physically hit him.
"Well?"
There was a brief moment of stillness before the outlaw hopped in to the sidecar and they headed out of town. For two hours neither said a word to the other. Eventually, they stopped in order to stretch and eat a light lunch. The icy silence continued until Wolfwood finally realized he should be the one to try and break it, seeing as how this whole situation was his fault.
"Vash…." He was at a loss. What was there to say? The truth would damn him, and apologizing would imply he didn't mean what he'd said earlier about the sex being a mistake.
"What is it? Are you going to yell at me again? Make me feel even more stupid? You already made me regret everything that happened last night, so congratulations. What else would you like to do today, Wolfwood?" The usually cheery expression in the gunman's green eyes had been replaced with resentment and a hint of shame.
The preacher stared at him for a time, contemplating how he should proceed, and at last answered, "I'd like to say I'm sorry."
Vash quirked his eyebrow skeptically, not quite believing the authenticity of the statement.
"There was no reason for the way I treated you. I was out of line. I'm sorry."
The blonde blinked a few times and then voiced blandly, "Okay."
Wolfwood's expression changed to one of surprise. He hadn't expected it to be that easy. "Okay?"
"Yeah."
"That's it? Everything's alright?"
"Yeah. It's fine." The man's tone made it greatly apparent things were not fine; Wolfwood picked up on it instantly.
"Spikey-"
"We should get going."
Vash abruptly stood and was about to climb in to the sidecar when Wolfwood seized his arm and spun him around.
"Hey! Wha-"
The rest of his sentence was cut short as his mouth was attacked by the priest's, arms encircling him and hugging him snugly. He attempted to shove Wolfwood away, struggled to get free from the unwanted embrace, but the other man just squeezed him more tightly as a result. The only way he'd be able to liberate himself, he realized, would be to return the kiss and stop fighting. Closing his eyes, he snaked his arms around the preacher and let his lips work feverishly with Wolfwood's, creating an immensely passionate kiss. He felt the same feelings that he'd had the previous night bloom within him once again, causing him to almost regret giving in this time; however, the moment a hand slid down to grab his ass – which elicited a startled, yet pleased, squeal to sound from him – he sensed Wolfwood had in fact felt something during their intimacy.
After one long minute, Wolfwood pulled away slightly to look directly in to the still astonished, yet delighted, eyes of the Humanoid Typhoon. Both were breathing a little heavier and hearts beating a bit faster than what they would've liked – obvious signs to each of them that the other was rather aroused. Glancing downward, Vash's cheeks reddened upon confirming the preacher had indeed been quite stimulated from the touch; the blush made Wolfwood chuckle as he rested his hand against the blonde's face.
"You were right," he began softly, and Vash smiled in response. "As much as I hate to admit that."
"Good. I'm glad."
"Why do you have to be so damn likeable? You're supposed to be a heartless monster."
Vash shrugged and replied playfully, "I like going against people's expectations."
"Just like you did mine the other night." Wolfwood thought it was adorable that the outlaw could blush even more than what he already was.
"Well….what are you expecting now?"
"I think you'll just kiss me again and then we'll be on our way."
"Hm. I guess I could do that."
All of a sudden, Vash tackled the priest to the ground, straddled his waist, and commenced kissing him heatedly while his hands worked to untuck Wolfwood's shirt. This was certainly not what the clergyman had anticipated; as usual, Vash the Stampede succeeded in catching him off guard – it was a good thing.
As the gunman continued to kiss him incessantly and let his hands wander under the preacher's clothes, Wolfwood lost himself in a haze of rapture.
So much for a one night stand, he thought contently.
Whether it was right or wrong, he no longer cared; sleeping with the sixty-billion-double-dollar man had been the best mistake he'd ever made.