Contains: comedy, yaoi, vashxwolfwood
This fic is supposed to be funny. I know, it has a lot of stereotypes, but I gotta work with very little as I've never been in this … ah … situation before. This fic is also set under the pretenses that Vash and Wolfwood are already an item. So no complaints about how it doesn't follow the story. It's a fan fiction! It's not technically 'supposed to! XP Anyways… Enjoy!
Two men stood outside a nightclub in the city of Washington. Washington was known for its loose morals, loose women and yes, even (perhaps especially) it's loose men. But these two men did not feel like they belonged in this town. Unfortunately for them it was the only one for miles and they had no food, no water, no transportation and no money.
One of these men was Vash the Stampede, the tall, golden haired, humanoid typhoon. This wasn't something that he announced to the world, but those who knew who he was, knew who he was. Fortunately, nobody knew who he was in Washington and Vash wanted to keep it that way.
The other man was one Nicholas D. Wolfwood, a traveling priest. Not a very good priest as priests go, but he had his heart in the right place. Which was why Vash trusted and traveled with him. Right now however, he was wondering if traveling with Nicholas had been a very bright idea.
"Absolutely not," was all Vash could utter as he looked up at the bar sign.
"Come on Vash, we need the money to fix my bike. Besides, I can't do it. I'm a man of the cloth, remember?"
"Oooh, you're a man of the cloth now, eh? You can smoke, drink and kill people, but you can't do this!?" Vash yelled.
Wolfwood only smiled and shrugged nonchalantly, lighting a new cigarette. He didn't have time to inhale the first puff before Vash put his hands around his throat.
"Absolutely positively never ever not in a million years, NO!"
"Explain to me how else we're going to get money in this sleazy town, eh Vash!?" Wolfwood screamed back, dropping his cigarette. "Shit, now look what you made me do! Get in there Vash and make us some money!"
Vash looked up at the sign. Just looking at it made him very, very nervous. The pink neon sign said: All Nude Male Review, and a florescent rainbow sparkled just above that. Vash felt the tears pressing against his eyeballs.
"I feel so very violated already!" he cried. "There isn't a female's bar around or something?"
"Oh please I know you like men just the same as any of the men in there," Wolfwood said, pointing to the black-tinted glass double-doors. Then Wolfwood stared at Vash for a burning moment.
Vash stepped back and coughed, flushing deeply but pretending not to be visualizing Wolfwood in his entire naked magnificence. When Vash finally got the nerve to look at Nicholas again, he obviously wasn't thinking about the other night. He was busy tapping his foot impatiently and glaring at Vash.
Vash sighed deeply and pressed his fingers into his forehead.
"Buy me a drink, will ya?"
"Well, hallo," said the bartender, raising an intrigued eyebrow as Vash and Nicholas took a seat at the bar.
"The strongest drink you have," Vash asked with a pitiful depression ringing through his voice.
The bartender returned to his business as a bartender, but kept looking back every once and a while to steal glimpses of the two striking men sitting at the bar.
"Oy, barkeep," Nicholas asked when he returned. "Tonight is amateur night, right?"
The bartender sprawled himself over the table. "Oh, please tell me you're signing up."
Wolfwood smiled and leaned back, away from the encroaching bartender. "Afraid not. But my friend here is." Wolfwood pointed to Vash, who waved and smiled uncomfortably.
"I'm looking forward to the performance," the bartender said with a greedy smile.
Vash gulped and avoided the bartender's stare by downing the glass.
"How much is the prize money?" Nicholas asked, very businessman-like.
"Five-hundred double dollars," the bartender answered. "You do know it's fetish night too, right?"
Vash puffed up and stared disbelieving at the bartender. "What!?"
"Yeah, fetish night. You gotta dress up," he confirmed.
"Oh good, we already have a costume," Nicholas said.
Vash blinked and stared at Nicholas for a moment. "We do?"
"Yes. You're dressed as Vash the Stampede tonight," he said with a wry smile.
Vash's face fell and he slammed his head into the bar. "I should have known…"
"Vash the Stampede, eh?" the bartender said as he thought, scratching his goatee. "I don't know how many people will be into that, but with your looks, it won't be hard."
"I need another drink," Vash said with tears threatening to break through his eyes. He held the glass out to the bartender, who winked at Vash when he took it.
"Idon'twannadothis, Idon'twannadothis, Idon'twanna…"
"Are you sure he'll be okay to entertain?" the owner of the bar asked as he wrote down the name "Ericks: Vash the Stampede" on the list of amateurs.
"Don't worry," Nicholas said with a confident smile. "He'll be okay to go up."
"Idon'twannadothis, Idon'twannadothis, Idon'twannadothis, Idon'twannadothis…"
"As long as you're sure," he said. "'Vash' here is up in five. Don't embarrass me, you hear?"
"Embarrass you?" Nicholas though. He found his eyebrow to be twitching. "How can I embarrass you? You're the one running a gay strip club…"
"Idon'twannadothis, Idon'twannadothis, Idon'twannadothis, Idon'twannadothis…"
"Don't worry sir, 'Vash the Stampede' here will not let you down!" Wolfwood said, perhaps too confident than he felt.
The owner simply grumbled as he walked off behind the curtain. As soon as the owner had gone, Wolfwood quickly turned to Vash.
"Idon'twannadothis, Idon'twannadothis, Idon'twannadothis," was all Vash could say. He looked petrified to say the least.
"How can this bother you Vash! Especially since we…"
"You're the only man I've ever slept with!" Vash yelled, with an edge of panic to his voice. "I don't know what a room full of guys wants!"
"You will," Nicholas said, feeling very determined. He picked up a jug of beer that a bartender was delivering to someone else and held it up to Vash. "Drink! For all you're worth Vash!"
"Ladies and Gentlemen, tonight and tonight only: a beautiful and rare phenomenon has come to our stage. Ladies, please welcome the humanoid typhoon: Vash the Stampede!"
As his name was announced Vash practically flew across the stage, dancing drunken to the thumping music. He couldn't dance provocatively at all, but in a drunken stupor, he seemed to be having the greatest time of his life.
"Who picked this song?" Wolfwood wondered. "He's not dancing at all. Now we'll never win that prize money."
Wolfwood hung his head in resignation as he saw that the audience was getting more and more tired of Vash's antics. They began to boo and hiss, ordering him to be put off the stage.
"No, wait! We still have one trump card left!" he thought, surprised he didn't tell Vash to do this straight away.
Nicholas jumped out of his seat. "Take off your clothes Vash! Take them off! Quickly!"
Fortunately the other men picked up on what Wolfwood was screaming and were beginning to get tired of this song that Vash had just made up and was singing off key for the audience. "Take off your clothes!" they began to scream.
"Yeah, take it off!"
"Lose the jacket!"
"You're sure!?" Vash yelled. "Well, alright then!"
Faster than most could process, Vash threw off his clothes. Nobody knew quite how Vash managed to take all of his clothes off in one deft move, but he did it. And there he stood on stage, an exhibitionist, completely naked sans his boots. The entire room fell silent. They found, to their surprise, that Vash's body was covered in scars and whatnot that tore into him.
But that wasn't what everyone was staring at. Everyone was staring at his package.
At once the entire audience roared with sexual cries and moans. The entire crowd ran up to the stage with double-dollar bills in their hands, hoping to get closer to Vash. Some seemed to like the scars just as much as Vash's "endowments". Soon the stage became so overcrowded with men that security had to drag Vash backstage.
Wolfwood sat in the corner and nursed his drink quietly, very content. "Yes, and it's aaaall mine," he said with satisfaction as he took a drag of his cigarette.
Vash sat on the back of Nicholas' motorcycle as Washington became smaller and smaller on the horizon. Vash couldn't look down at the moving sands beneath him. He'd never had a bigger hangover in his life. Taking his eyes of anything but the still town on the horizon made him want to throw up. Then again, looking at Washington made him slightly ill as well.
Wolfwood came to an slow, but unexpected stop. Vash leaned over and braced himself, groaning as he felt the bile begin to build up.
"How's your hangover doing?" Wolfwood asked.
Vash glared over his shoulder. "Don't talk to me," he growled.
"What?" Nicholas said, seeming to be almost hurt by Vash's harsh words.
Vash put his finger in between Wolfwood's eyebrows. "They groped me."
Nicholas took a moment for it to sink it. Then it happened. He couldn't stop laughing.
"Hey! It's not funny!" Vash said, standing up. He realized too late that he stood up to quickly and quickly bent over, clutching his knees.
"Hey, but we got out of Washington, didn't we? If you hadn't risked life and limb…well, at least limb, we never would have gotten out of Washington and you could be making a living off stripping right now."
"Well, I suppose… hey, quit trying to make me see the bright side of this! Being molested by a room full of desperate men is not cool! Next time it gets to be you, got it?"
Wolfwood could only laugh. "You're cute when you're flustered."
"Not now, I have a headache."