This is written in jest and mockery.  The boys're gonna kill me for it, but I couldn't resist.  XD  Welcome to the sickest little ficlet I've written yet.  And may I say, in my defense, that this is a JOKE.  I do NOT do vash/nick.  It's just wrong.  And besides, the boy is mine.  ::Snuggs the priest possessively.::

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Vash the Stampede, the humanoid typhoon, worth sixty billion double dollars... was a man of many talents.  He could shoot, he could run, he had a grasp of lost technology that would stagger most people's minds. 

He was not, however, omnipotent.  His current situation illustrated this perfectly. 

The spiky-haired outlaw was currently in a state somewhere between sleep and coma, having gone drinking the evening before.  Had we mentioned that Vash was not omnipotent?  Well.  His many talents did not, sadly, include the ability to hold his liquor. 

Nicholas D. Wolfwood, on the other hand, was usually quite capable of drinking anyone under the table.  He'd done it before.  Sadly, though, it seemed he'd finally met his match and drunken himself under the table- the priest was in a similar state to the outlaw, with both of them lingering between the waking world and the unconscious one, occasionally emitting a small groan or whimper as varicolored animals of all persuasions pirouetted over the walls.

Now and then an eyelid would crack, the colored orb beneath casting about a moment in a listless attempt at orientation.  Each time was a failure.  The walls offered, besides their hallucinogenic menagerie, no clue as to where this place was.  Assumably- guessing from the cheap paint, the rough feel of the sheets beneath them, and the faintly pervasive, peculiar, singular scent of a communal room- this was some random hotel.  If either man could remember where precisely he'd been when he'd passed out, it might be some indication; however, such minor details eluded the two victims of hangovers. 

Finally, after having stirred apathetically for some time without a word, the random motions were brought under reign and, almost in unison, the two managed to roll over.

...And they found themselves staring across the rumpled sheets at each other.

Vash and Wolfwood screamed in admirable chorus and jumped as well as could be managed, ending up on the floor on either side of the bed, staring at the ceiling and contemplating just what a bad idea the reaction had been. 

It was in the midst of this, with one hand flung over his head, that Vash's many talents came into play.  He noticed the glitter on his hand... a thin, plain band of gold circling the finger beside the pinkie. 

Slowly, the tops of two heads came into view over the sides of the bed, followed in short succession by two familiar visages.  Wide-eyed, the friends stared at each other over the width of the covers, resting hands upon the edge to pull themselves up. 

They managed to catch sight of each other's rings almost immediately. 

"Oh, God," groaned Nicholas, raising a limb to massage his aching head, and calling further attention to the ring, "Someone... please tell me we married the insurance girls."

Vash didn't answer. 

Thanks be for small things.