Notes: I fail at drabbling, but oh well. Technically manga-verse, although it doesn't really matter.
Ether
The desert is long and empty and dry, and Wolfwood has traveled it alone longer then he has with company. He knows the basic techniques of survival, how to build a solid shelter within ten minutes, how to make water last. But Vash knows more and considers himself an apt teacher.
He shows Wolfwood how to predict wind currents and find seasonal landmarks (it takes nearly an hour for him to convince Wolfwood that this place even has such things, but Vash explains over and over again the subtle changes of heat and sun and wind they bring, and Wolfwood relents, not so much assured as he is tired of arguing). He teaches him hands on how to get liquid from a cactus without dooming the plant. It takes Wolfwood three tries before he manages, but he does, and draws water with blood from his pricked fingertips fanning out beneath his nails.
They fall into a routine of sleeping through the hottest part of the day and walking a few miles at night, and it's beneath the shade and protection of a thick tarp that Wolfwood finds himself unable to rest in presence of another. He becomes accustomed to lying on his back with sunlight working its way through his closed eyelids, waiting for Vash to wake. It's only when they settle back down again at midnight after hours of travel is he exhausted enough to sleep.
(The first and only time he naps is when Vash is still awake and sitting with his back to a sun warmed rock, one long leg stretched out straight and the other pulled to his chest, mouth pressed to a bent knee. There is a bullet in his hand, and with a quick twist of his wrist he moves it from his palm and has it rolling back and forth across his knuckles. Wolfwood watches from where he is stretched out on the sand, eyes following the movement of Vash's fingers until the shell becomes a bronze blur.
Vash's body casts a long shadow, and for once there is no sun on Wolfwood's face. Sand sticks to the sweat on the back of his neck and beneath the cuffs of his shirt, and it is uncomfortable but not overbearing. He starts to drift and hears when Vash begins to hum a soft tune, but is close enough to sleep at that point he is not sure afterwards if it was part of a dream or not.
He wakes hours later, still tired and too warm but not wanting to move at all. Wind ruffles his hair and blows back the unbuttoned flap of his jacket, sweeping across his stomach, almost tickling. Vash is asleep beside him, a little too close and breathing warmly against his neck. Somewhere in the distance a bird begins to chirp, followed by the soft, fluttering sound of wings. Wolfwood opens his eyes, but the horizon above the curve of Vash's shoulder is dark and wide and bare, and not what he wants to see.)
End