Rules for this Sort of Thing
"I love you sooooo much!"
"I wuv you more"
"Mmmmm…"
"Don't you find that really nauseating?"
"Hm?" Vash jumped, feeling guilty. He had been watching a couple talking and nuzzling a few tables away.
"I said, don't you find that really nauseating?" Wolfwood repeated, looking bored.
"Why?"
"Well, it's all mushy and idiotic. I don't think I'd ever be like that." He sighed.
Vash was a little surprised. Sure, the man wasn't much of a romantic type, or a very fluffy one. If someone was to propose or something to him, how would they do it? Not that he would try, Vash told himself, because he wasn't sure how Wolfwood would take a declaration of love from his traveling-partner. Really…maybe I should study it…There are rules for this sort of thing, I'm sure. But what were they?
Non-mushy. Strong. Check.
Later that night, Vash got punched for refusing to apologize to a big brawny fellow. A black eye developed, but Wolfwood was not very sympathetic.
"It's your own fault for not saying sorry sooner, really." He explained.
So Vash nudged Wolfwood along and took studious notes at his comment for different pairs.
"Look at that, right in a bar, for God's sake. You'd think they'd have a little more class."
Class. Check.
"Vash, stop staring at them." Vash hadn't noticed he was.
"Right…how embarrassing."
Nick was a little confused when Vash started to call his Angelina II an automotive vehicle, and ordered wine instead of beer that night. But the wine was pretty good, so he didn't complain.
When they stayed in a hotel where the lady next door to them, beautiful and young, got about twenty dozen roses a day from an admirer, Wolfwood turned away and remarked, "That guy is being an idiot. She enjoys the attention. And she's leading him on. Games like that are stupid." Vash noted that, as well.
Poise and being straightforward. Check.
Wolfwood also didn't notice Vash suddenly holding open doors for him. Or not tripping at all. The priest knew that most of the clumsiness was an act anyway, and was a little perturbed when Vash not only missed stepping on a bottle and falling in a girl's lap, but also walked right under low bars and doors without banging his head. Vash also became very clipped in his sentences, for some reason.
And when they eavesdropped, ahem, overheard, a girl complaining about her man's stubble to her girlfriends behind them, Wolfwood commented, "A guy should always be either clean-shaven or have a definite beard, right?"
Vash stroked his own smooth chin, then glanced at Wolfwood's wisps, and decided not to comment. He instead brought out the notebook.
Neat-looking. Check.
Vash spent half an hour that night in the bathroom, arranging and re-arranging his hair. Having it down made him look sissy, so he decided to leave it. But he did iron his coat. Where did he get the iron? That, we will never know.
"Vash! Go to bed!"
"Justaminute! I need to finish this crease…"
He wanted everything to be perfect when he finally told Wolfwood. Everything. Even if that meant taking notes and reacting carefully to everything he saw about romance and love. This was quite a new experience for him. He had always been himself, or mostly. But now, with someone to impress and please, Vash knew he had to start being serious.
Vash lived, now, for taking notes about Wolfwood's ideal looks and "significant other". He had filled about a notebook, with diagrams and snippets of conversations. He tried to conform to the rules laid out for him, but found it kind of hard. For example, he wasn't really ready to don heels, or get any shorter. Nor could he be visited in the night, because they were sleep right across from each other in twin beds. He decided that the air of mystery was nonexistent, at least the kind Wolfwood wanted, because they used the same bathroom and Wolfwood heard him snoring at night. If he did. Do I snore? Note to self: check. Somehow.
I'm not really creative. I'm not cute, and I'm not…well…I'm not a girl. Vash was most worried about that. What will I say? Note to self: write a speech…or something.
"Uhhhmm… Wolfwood, what would you say if a guy said he liked you?" Vash tossed out one day.
"Well, I'd be pleased; it's nice that he thought me nice." Wolfwood grinned.
"No, I mean really liked you."
"Oh, like a crush. Jesus, I'd be a little shocked, I guess." Wolfwood looked at the clear blue eyes of his partner. "Any reason? Is anyone planning to come out to me?"
"N-no." Not any time soon. "Shocked" isn't a good sign. Shocked-good, or shocked-bad?
Wolfwood, who was beginning to notice something was wrong with his friend, became even more confused about his strange behavior. That's it! I bet he likes someone. He's pulling out all the stops. Messing around with the hair gel in the bathroom, being very proper and all. Who would he like? Anyone I know?
"Hey, Tongari—" Vash almost fell over. That's right! I have a nickname. Never before had anyone ever called him anything other than his name or one of his frightening aliases. "Tongari, do you like someone?"
"NO!" Vash said, stunned.
"Are you sure? Or are you just getting all reformed for fun?"
He noticed! Henoticedhenoticedhenoticed. What now?
"N-what are you talking about?"
"Hey, what's that?" Vash had pulled out the notebook, since the conversation was getting towards the romantic. Maybe he could take more notes.
"Umm…sketchbook."
"Sketchbook? I didn't know you could draw."
"I'm a-an amateur. Nothing serious."
"Oh, yeah. Lemme see!" Wolfwood reached out his hand.
"No, it's, it's not done yet." Vash started to put it away.
"Great, lemme see so far." Wolfwood was insistent.
"I don't think so, Wolfwood."
"Oh, come on; lay off the 'Wolfwood.' I don't have a last name to call you. It's Nick."
"Oh…Okay." Nick? I can call him by his first name?
"Now!" Nick grabbed the book and flipped through it.
"Hey! It's embarrassing!"
But Nick was already reading the notes. "Hmmm…'Likes tulips. Note: Where can I get them? Inexpensive?' 'Maybe: he likes brunettes like himself more than blondes— hair dyes?'"
"Umm...notes for a…story! A story I'm writing, about a man who wants this girl who's really cool and beautiful…but can't…can't…uhhh." Vash mumbled.
"Yeah, listen to this, Tongari: 'Priest: learn a little about being Christian for him.' It's not so hard. And being Christian won't impress me. I'm not so Christian myself." He laughed. "Is this whole story about me? Am I the boy?" He flipped through it again. "These notes are pretty extensive."
"I swear I'm not stalking you!" Vash exclaimed.
"You can't really, you're always with me. But I'd say this is as close to stalking as one can get under the circumstances. I'm impressed." He laughed again. "It's okay, don't look so down. I like you too."
"You mean really liked me?"
"Of course. I'm shocked, like I said…"
"But good-shocked?" Vash ventured.
"Yes, good-shocked. That notebook is silly. I would've been happy anyway you approached me. Come're." Vash complied, and was swept into the man's arms in a tight hug. And the notebooks fell from his hands, forgotten by both gunman and priest, and found by a mischievous black cat with green eyes that clawed it to pieces, forever gone in the wind. Nyahhhh
-The End-