Lucky
Nicholas D. Wolfwood was of the firm opinion he was never going to be happier in his life. He was not a man with a strong sentimental streak, nor one unused to physical affection, but he was one who could fully appreciate a good thing when it presented itself. And if this wasn't a good thing, he didn't know what else could possibly qualify.
Milly stirred, her leg shifting and rubbing against his for a moment before she let out a sigh, settling down once more. The pyjama bottoms she was wearing itched his skin slightly, but he couldn't quite bring himself to really care. She was snug and warm, and her soft brown hair felt wonderful on his chest. Moreover, she wasn't leaving traces of sticky gel residue on his skin. Or snoring.
Wolfwood's attention switched to the blond man hugging his waist with a grip like a vice despite the fact he appeared to be quite relaxed in his sleep. If it weren't for the snoring, Vash could have passed off as angelic. Pale - and how the hell he managed that with these suns certainly was a divine bloody mystery - strangely smooth wherever he wasn't scarred... it was an odd sight to behold. And irritatingly tragic. Wolfwood didn't like thinking about the implications of such horrific scars on such a... well... nice guy. You couldn't quite call Vash gentle, and you certainly couldn't call him quiet, but there was an old-fashioned decency to him that really wasn't old-fashioned at all if you thought about how men had really been treating each other as far back as could be remembered. Humanity in general was just a bastard. He himself was a bastard.
And somehow he'd been lumbered with these two beautiful, beautiful creatures, all sweetness and light and cliché, and silly beauty spots and ridiculous height for a woman, and neither seemed to have any particular inclination towards abandoning him.
Bastard, bastard, bastard.
But now wasn't the time to be thinking about anything else; nor to be thinking about anything that didn't directly involve the two taking up either side of him doing more of the sort of things that went on earlier that night.
Maybe we should have invited Meryl.
Ah, but that was up to Vash. For some reason, though Wolfwood had taken to both Milly and Vash insanely quickly for one as untrusting as himself, he had never quite clicked with Meryl. She was a good friend, but that was all; the attraction wasn't there, and he suspected that she had the sense the others lacked to never give her trust to anyone who hadn't earnt it. Besides, she seemed to be more interested in carrying on with her version of 'subtly' mooning over Vash; and until he caught on in return, Wolfwood was quite happy to leave the situation as it was.
Milly stirred again, muttering something about "... Bad curtains..." and frowning in her sleep, slapping her left hand down on Wolfwood's chest. Wolfwood bit back the urge to chuckle, wondered what Vash dreamt of before deciding he was better off not knowing.
Which was part of the problem, really. Milly was sweetness and light, but she was also purity and innocence, and it was so easy to love her. Vash... Vash was still sweet, still light, but in his core beneath all the bounciness there was suffering too, and so much pain it hurt to look at him sometimes. You couldn't half-love Vash. You had to take him in as a whole, and he was so easy to hurt. Even if his instinctive urge was to protect Milly, every single other part of him screamed out to take care of Vash, to take him off somewhere and protect him from the world. It was a stupid, stupid, vain wish, not least on account of the fact it was Vash who wanted to protect the world; being protected from it would destroy his meaning in life.
Wolfwood sighed and freed an arm from Vash's death-grip, cupped the blond man's chin lightly in his hand. "You awake?" He whispered quietly, trying to decide if it was waking up or sleep apnoea that had caused Vash to hold his breath. When he got no answer, he brushed a thumb over Vash's lips, remembering how they had looked on his skin, on Milly's skin.
They had spoilt Milly that night. Vash was a giver by nature, seeming to enjoy what he did to others more than what they did to him, and Wolfwood wished he could give Milly the world. It didn't matter that Milly wasn't the brightest bulb in the box, or wasn't always the best with words - because you knew when you talked to her that she understood what good really was. She couldn't describe it without sounding clumsy, but everything in life that really mattered was as familiar to her as gunplay to him and Vash.
He could never choose between them. That much he knew. Could never give up Milly's innocent, whole-hearted love of the world or Vash's inexplicable tolerance of all of it, even the dark and dreary corners Milly had been spared. And for whatever reason, God be blessed, they hadn't made him choose. He had been seducing Milly for some time and playing around with Vash when the opportunity presented itself, and it had culminated in Milly's pyjamas around her wrists and ankles, Vash between her legs and Wolfwood between Vash's. And no "I love you"s had been needed, because why else would they be friends if not because they loved one another? Wolfwood was sparing with his trust until it was earnt, and the other two gave love freely.
He was a lucky, lucky bastard, and he knew it. And even if it meant not getting to smoke after sex (which had been something of a tradition with him and Vash), he wasn't going to insult his luck's work by moving for some time yet.
- End