Wolfwood's new profession

A big thanks to Harlequin who made me feel guilty enough to update - and to all those who have reviewed despite my horrendous updating of this story! In all honesty... *pushes index fingers together and flushes* I'd actually almost forgotten about this story :S But thankfully someone reviewed and reminded me that I hadn't finished it! So here's Chapter 21 for you all! I'll TRY to be more on time now! :)


Chapter Twenty-One : Tears and laughter

The telepath stewed in irritation. It had been over two months and the priest should have been arriving any day. He should have knocked on the door over two weeks ago by anyone’s reckoning. He should have been presenting his sweet little self for some discipline of a rather severe and tortuous nature…

But he wasn’t.

Legato scanned the area surrounding the ship angrily, widening his search when no significant life forms were found. He scowled as he stomped through the corridors, on his way to see Knives. The plant was very unpredictable, more so than usual and it was taking its toll on Legato’s nerves.

He arrived and Knives looked up, his almost-smile, that was all Legato could really call it, faded from his face when he saw Legato’s scowl.

“Knives-sama…” The telepath bowed, short and angrily. “I cannot find him in the desert, nor anywhere else it seems. He should have arrived by now.”

Knives nodded and closed his eyes. They opened again after only a short moment. Legato twitched with envy and a bit of desire at the casual power his Master showed.

“He is either dead, or my brother has discovered some way to include him within his own shield. They must be found by other means. Find him and bring him back. By force if necessary but my brother must not suspect anything. You are able and aware of how to accomplish this. Send them first but you will go also.” He indicated with his head and Legato bowed again, a short pause as they caught one another’s gaze across the room before the telepath turned and left.

Hours passed in mediocrity. Knives tired of dwelling on his thoughts and rose, making his way through the ship. He slowed at the turn off to Legato’s quarters, pausing before wandering towards them. He hesitated at the threshold before drifting in, gloved fingers trailing across the few small personal items that Legato had. He sat on the bed, frowning slightly when he found it hard and uncomfortable. He hadn’t realized that his servant slept on such a wretched pallet. He hadn’t been aware of it that last time he had been here when they…they…

He swallowed, burying his head in a palm, elbow resting on his knee, fingers clenching in his hair.

What was happening to him? It had started as something simple. Something to swing the human’s affections back towards him. Something to overcome this girl’s image in his mind. Something to keep him on track and loyal.

Now…

Now he was all Knives could think about. Visions of silky blue hair in his fist, imaginary breath whispering across his ear, moans of his name haunted his thoughts, waking or otherwise. He heard a crunch of metal and realized he was clenching his fist on the edge of the bed, distorting the frame. He quickly let go and stood, not making an effort to remove his presence. Legato would know he had been here and suddenly it didn’t matter anymore.

‘Maybe I should kill him…’ The thought made his heart jump, overwhelming grief tearing through him. He felt his gorge rise, acid-hot and sickening. ‘No…I can’t…’

He swallowed again, breathing heavily. His chest ached and he leaned against the wall of the corridor, his eyes suddenly beginning to mist. He choked back an angry sob, furious with himself for this weakness. He stumbled along, a hand running along the wall to keep himself steady as he sought the room at the other end of the ship. He crashed though the door, stumbling to his knees with tears running down his face. He gave a hoarse sob, wrapping his arms around the object, palms flat as he pressed his forehead to the smooth, warm glass in front of him. He cried and cried. For the loss of himself and for gaining something he never thought he could feel. The glass-bodied plant reached out, soothing it’s humanoid counterpart, whispering affectionate thoughts till Knives cried himself out and fell into an exhausted slumber, still pressed against the unmarred surface of his translucent sibling.

(A/N: Even psychopaths need some love sometimes…Poor lonely Knives…)

//////


Vash was roaringly drunk. Wolfwood hoisted the inebriated gunman’s arm around his shoulder and attempted, with some difficulty, to lift him from the stool. Vash resisted, shaking his head back and forth vigorously.

“No! Wan’ to STAY!” He declared loudly, clutching his giant beer mug to his chest possessively, sloshing some on his bodysuit. Wolfwood wrinkled his nose and thought about having to wash it off later.

“Come on Vash…we have to leave…” The priest glanced around them at the other customers, some amused by Vash’s behaviour…some not so much. Vash’s brow furrowed and he got an intense look on concentration on his face. Finally he nodded sagely, as if Wolfwood had proclaimed a great feat of wisdom, and set the now empty mug on the bar.

“Okray Wilfwrood…” He slurred and stumbled to his feet. He started to sway towards the door and Wolfwood made a grab for the Stampede’s coat, which he’d taken off sometime earlier in the night. He draped it over his own shoulders, leaving his hands free to deal with Vash. They stumbled out into the night, surprising the patrons standing outside.

Vash gave them a little wave and a smile before promptly puking all over the wall next to the doorway.

Wolfwood heard groans of disgust and one ‘Dude! Did you see how much puke came out of that guy?!’ and went forward to collect Vash who was still leaning against the wall, singing quietly to himself.

“Come on Vash…let’s get back to the hotel…” He murmured, jumping back in surprise when Vash turned on him suddenly. He blinked slowly at the priest, a smile drifting across his face.

“Hey Nick, you’ve got my coat on…” His words were a bit slurred, but otherwise loud and clear. Wolfwood paused and glanced curiously down at Vash’s long red jacket that he was wearing

“Yes I am.”

“You look really good in that coat. Really, really, really good.” He nodded vigorously. The priest wondered for a second if he could give himself whiplash by doing that.

Wolfwood paused. Vash was giving him a look that normally only happened in their hotel room. The one that made an appearance after the Insurance girls had gone to bed.

“I think you should wear that coat.” Vash declared, pointing at it and then staring at his own finger, perplexed, before busting into giggles.

“I am wearing the coat.” Wolfwood said, humouring him and trying to edge him off the porch. The comment brought Vash’s attention back to him, something he wished he didn’t have when the Stampede opened his mouth again and proclaimed loudly.

“No, I mean, you should wear that coat when we're having sex tonight.”

Wolfwood froze, turned his head and stared at Vash in shock, suddenly thankful that they were outside and the presence of other people was reduced to the amused sniggers of the patrons still standing nearby.

“You could wear it when you go down on me.” Vash said dreamily, gloved fingers of the hand that wasn’t still pointing at his lover stroking across his bottom lip.

Wolfwood went violently red. He didn’t think people could distinguish between him and the coat anymore.

“Or...I was just thinking the other day- ...Er...” Then Vash apparently got distracted once more by the way his finger was pointing at Wolfwood. The priest knew he’d have to derail this train before it got started. He walked over to Vash and touched him lightly on the shoulder to gain his attention.

Vash looked up from his finger, grinned and draped himself over Wolfwood with a happy sigh. He stank of alcohol.

“Vash-”

“Hmmm, Wooolfwoood…” Vash purred. One hand slipped down the priest's back to grope his ass. Wolfwood realized that Vash had lost some notion of his own strength along with his inhibitions. He winced as he was pawed. The grip wasn't hard enough to maim, Vash hadn’t lost it that badly, but still uncomfortable. The priest flushed with embarrassment as one of the young men outside leered at them and held up his little finger suggestively.

“Come on Vash…we REALLY have to go now.”

Vash smiled at him, turning his head on the priest’s shoulder and nuzzling into his neck. Wolfwood cringed away slightly as Vash’s faintly sick-smelling breath wafting hotly across his face, wishing desperately for a toothbrush.

“Okay, Nick…” He murmured and then promptly fell asleep.

*********
Awww, Vash-kun!

But…POOR Knives-sama!