He led the way up the stairs. He was still hurt, favoring his left leg, but he wasn't so far gone that he needed my help. A good sign, at least for me.
I expected his room to be more dramatic, somehow. Even clean it was messy, just like the rest of the house. Clothes suited for a farmer or a mechanic hung in the closet. A few carefully labeled shoe boxes for pictures that may have well faded into oblivion by now. A chest of drawers, small table and even smaller chair with dusty letters piled on it pushed into a corner. The bed was pushed against the window and the quilt on top of it was covered in a thick layer of dust. The bed was made, I wasn't expecting that.
He sat down at the table and let me explore the place a bit. I rummaged through the clothes, looked at the small bowl he had on top of the drawers, folded back the quilt on his bed. The bed was what was really troubling me. It was larger than a normal twin, but clearly not built for company.
I turned back to say something, and I saw that he had already gotten up and was carefully pulling his shirt over his head. I closed the distance and helped him. He was smiling when I saw his face again. He spun around, pressed his back into my chest and let me unzip him. He stepped out of his pants, hopped around as he pulled his socks off. He padded his way over to another door and switched on a light. A bathroom, one I hadn't noticed before.
He turned around and smiled. "Change the sheets, will you?" he closed the door, and locked it loudly. Bastard.
I did as I was told, thought it took me a while to find where he kept linens. When I was done I opened up the window to give the quilt a good shake. I made up the bed better than I had back at the orphanage. You could have bounced a quarter off it.
There was still a nagging doubt that I would remember that I had never done this before, freak out and start running for the hills. It was pretty unlikely. I had been through times with Middy that made my libido moan and the rest of me look for the exits. This wasn't it. This was right in a way I couldn't explain.
I plopped down on the quilt and kicked my shoes off. I studied the ceiling, trying to take deep breaths. Interesting ceiling; it wasn't cottage cheese, like so many others I had seen. Course, I had been living out of hotel rooms for quite a while now. Months.
I had found the guest bedroom during my search for the linen closet. It was a miserable, lonely thing behind a tiny door at the top of the stairs. To the duffel bag of my remaining possessions it would be just the right size.
Even if Vash didn't want me, I could stay here for a while, couldn't I?
It was a bitter thought, but I had to consider it.
Time alone lets you have a lot of bitter thoughts.
Too much had gone too good too soon. Bitter thoughts kept coming to me; something had to go wrong. His family would find us. Or the church would track me down. Or a typhoon would hit right in the middle of it all, killing us both.
Or… worse of all… that Vash would realize that he wasn't holding and loving and fucking Wolfwood. That Vash would look down and clearly see that I was not his smooth, scarred, world-weary partner in crime. That Vash would see a green, unscarred former preacher, with his hair grown back straggly. A forsaken child, trying to carve out a normal little life, who had decided one day to follow him to the ends of the earth. Nothing more.
That scared the shit out of me.
It didn't help that he taking so damn long. Fuck, maybe he had fallen in.
I looked closer at the ceiling and realized it reminded me of the ceiling back in my old seminary dorm room. That thing had always put me to sleep. I never saw it during the day, so whenever I was looking at it, I knew it was time to go to sleep… boy my eyes were getting low.
Hey. Wake up.
The internal voice wasn't mine. The gentle lips that pressed themselves against my temple certainly weren't.
I cracked one eye open and saw Vash. He was smiling soft and warm, as he straddled my torso. He was wearing a towel.
Just a towel.
I woke up.