Summary: But no matter what message he might have been spreading -from Repent from thy sins to Run for your lives- you always found yourself tagging along for the ride anyway, because something about him was fascinating. And you quickly added that to your mental list of things that just didn't make sense.

Pairing: Nicholas D. Wolfwood/Reader


When I wake up, the dream isn't done.
I wanna see your face and know I made it home.
If nothing is true, what more can I do?
I am still painting flowers for you…

Some things in life never made sense to you, no matter how hard you tried.

The way people acted when drunk, for instance, or the way prices on everything kept slowly creeping higher, or even the way a certain Holy Man swore and didn't act very holy, even though he wore crosses as cufflinks and carried around a confessional under one arm.

Then there was the smoking and the drinking and the occasional womanizing, and really, you failed to see how the Holy part of Holy Man applied to him.

He was rough around the edges -and around the chin, given that he had a constantly-perfect amount of stubble sprouting there- and when he crept into a town to protect the innocent and spread the Good Word, you often had to question exactly how innocent they'd been before he'd protected them, and what word he was spreading.

It probably had four to seven letters and wasn't very polite.

But no matter what message he might have been spreading -from Repent from thy sins to Run for your lives- you always found yourself tagging along for the ride anyway, because something about him was fascinating.

And you quickly added that to your mental list of things that just didn't make sense.

Strange maze, what is this place?
I hear voices over my shoulder;
Nothing's making sense at all.
Wonder, why do we race?
When everyday we're running in circles,
Such a funny way to fall…

There was something in the way he looked at you, every time you plopped unceremoniously onto the back of his motorcycle or scrambled onto a bus after him, that made you wonder why he never told you to stay behind.

Never once he did complain about your accompanying him, even when he knew you'd drag him from the bar when you'd thought he'd had enough or kick him under the table when he started making eyes at a woman across the room from you.

He put up with how you treated him the same way you put up with how he treated absolutely everyone else and his general lack of treatment where you were concerned.

He didn't ignore you, per say, but you certainly didn't feel like you were on the top of his priority list. You were always gently guided to walk just behind him and to one side, kept within easy reach and plain view.

When you weren't tramping about through town, and actually managed to find a place to spend the night, he never let you get your own room, so you had to share.

Not that you minded knowing he was within reach if you needed him, but he had a nasty habit of smoking in the middle of the night when he couldn't sleep, and when he felt too lazy to get up and open a window, it was a nasty smell to wake up to.

But despite that, despite all his quirks and questionable tendencies, you found that you kind of liked how unique he was, and when he would actually take the time to unwind and open up, you found he was a really good listener.

And then he'd crack a joke and go back to being all shady and stoic and smoking like a chimney, and you'd have to put up with it until the next time you managed to break down his walls enough to get him to talk seriously.

But for one reason or another, you were always looking forward to it.

Show my cards,
Gave you my heart,
Wish we could start all over.
Nothing's making sense at all.
Tried to open up my eyes,
I'm hoping for a chance to make it alright…

"Do you know why I do the things I do?"

You knew he was drunk the instant he opened his mouth, the words slurring in an oddly cute way.

"I do the things I do," he continued without answer from you, "because I don't want anything to happen to you, because that would be tragic." He emphasized the last word by looking over at you and smiling slightly. "Never forgive myself, if that happened."

You chuckled, moving over to him and gently taking the bottle from his limp fingers before you started to take off his jacket, intent on getting him into bed so he could sleep it off.

He grinned cheekily up at you. "Can't keep your hands off me, huh? Can't say I blame you… I have trouble keeping my hands off you, too." He paused, realizing what he'd just said and blinked hard. "Whoops."

Your eyebrows shut up your forehead and you stared at him. "What was that?"

"I… Uh…" He rolled his eyes, mumbled something along the lines of to hell with it, and pulled you into a very sloppy kiss. Before you had the chance to respond, though, he was passed out and snoring softly.

You had to laugh, because somehow that was just like him.

The next morning found him rubbing his head and swearing quite frequently as memories of the night before came back to him and he sent you apologetic looks.

"Look, I…"

You stood up, cutting him off. "If you're about to apologize, don't." You kept your tone cool as you moved over to him, giving him an annoyed look as you leant in close and fought back a giggle at the terrified expression on his face. "You're a pretty good kisser even when you're drunk."

It took him a second to process that sentence before he was blinking and smiling, and back to his usual self, but with perhaps a bit more pep. He snagged another kiss before he delegated that it was time for breakfast, and dragged you out of the room by the hand, a broad grin still spilling over his face.

You couldn't help the smile that painted itself over your own lips as you followed him. You still might not be able to make perfect sense of him, but you decided that would just come with time…

When I wake up, the dream isn't done.
I wanna see your face and know I made it home.
If nothing is true, what more can I do?
I am still painting flowers for you…


Just over 1k? Now that is a drabble! XD

I love Wolfwood. I really, honestly do, and I'm so pleased Methodical Madness suggested him for this song. X3

It turned out way more comedic than I thought it would, but given how the last one went, I don't see that as a bad thing. XD


The song "Painting Flowers" belongs to: All-Time Low

Trigun and its related characters belong to: Yasuhiro Nightow