Reflections

A/N: So here it is, you asked for it. Shounen Ai. Add that to angst, drama, and language, and you get the “R” rating that I chose for this story. I was thinking of downgrading the rating to get more readers, but screw it. If I’m going to go, may as well go all out. Plus this leaves me open with the option of writing a lemon later. (yay!) So let me know what you think of this chapter. I’ll keep trying to update frequently. But probably less frequently than I have been lately- I found a few things in the last chapter that I’m not thrilled about, but am too lazy to fix as of this moment. If you come across any discrepancies, please feel free to point them out. That’s the whole point of this, no?

*I do not own Trigun or any characters, events, or places affiliated with it. Nicholas Wolfwood and Vash the Stampede are not my personal playthings. How unfortunate for me. But I DO own this story, or rather, the words written about those things I mentioned earlier which I do not own. Which is good enough for now. However, if you are Yasuhiro Nightow and you’d like to give me ownership of said characters, events, and places, I must warn you- I don’t think you’d very much like what I’d do with them. But I’d love them just the same.

Reflections Chapter 4- Midnight

Previously:

Two Days Ago Continued (very late at night)

Nicholas let out a sigh of defeat, his pridakenakening in the face of actually getting a piece of that warm-looking red jacket to cover up with. He scooted over next to Vash and slid under the offered half of the jacket. Wolfwood had never been fond of the superfluous amount of fabric that constituted the gunman\'s coat until that very moment. Stretched out, there was just enough material to cover both of their torsos completely and most of their legs, with just their ankles and shoes peeking out.

And it was warm. So warm under there with Vash.
e Dae Day Ago: Yesterday (very early morning.)

Vash’s body was practically radiating heat under the fabric of the red jacket. Even through the thick leather of the body suit, Wolfwood could feel that the source of the significant temperature increase lay not only in the jacket’s protection from the breeze, but also in Vash’s warm body. Pressed against each other, laying side by side and staring up at the stars, both men relaxed by small degrees until they were both completely comfortable in their new closeness.

Vash spoke first, commenting on the how different the air always seems in the first hours of the morning. The 2 A.M. oxygen simply felt different to his lungs.

“Perhaps it’s because the sun isn’t out to make it harsh.” Vash theorized.

“That may be true, but wouldn’t you say that the air is completely different now than it was a few hours ago? It was just as dark at 11:30 as it is right now.” Wolfwood countered.

“Yeah, you’re right.” Vash admitted, rolling over on his side to look at Nick as he spoke. “There must be something about midnight. Something that cleans the air and makes it pure again for the coming day.”

Nick turned to look at Vash, watching those words come out of his mouth.

**”And at the end of the day, what cleans YOU and makes YOU pure again for the coming day? I know you have some secret, some hidden process. How can you be dirtied by so many ignorant hands trying to hurt you and still wake up day after day so innocent? So totally clean? Maybe all those dirty, dishonest hands can’t even touch you. Maybe they don’t even come near you. Do you have any idea who you’re sitting next to? There aren’t enough midnights in the future of mankind to cleanse me of my sins. And here I am, right beside you.”** He thought, rolling over on his side, a fraction of an inch separating his chest (bare except for the black blazer only partially buttoned up) from Vash’s (covered completely in leather body suit with straps and buckles and snaps.)

He looked into Vash’s eyes. He wanted to see realization; disgust and anger. He wanted Vash to frown and yell and hit him. To tell him that the jig was up and that he knew all about Knives’ plan and the lies Wolfwood had been spreading like a disease. His guilt was overwhelming him, and laying so close to Vash, to this beautifully clean thing, made him feel so much filthier in comparison. But staring into his eyes, a deep, almost blue-grey in the dark, all he found was thoughtful kindness. Vash’s lips were curled into the barest of smiles and one of his blonde brows was quirked with an expression that Wolfwood recognized all too well. It said “Stop being so serious.”

**”Right.”** Nicholas thought sarcastically, his eyes rolling and a derogatory sigh escaping his lips.

Vash laughed at his reaction, the eye rolling and the sigh. Both were perfect examples of Nicholas D. Wolfwood’s life philosophy.

Vash’s high-pitched laugh ground into Nick’s nerves, strangely jabbing him in the heart along the way. He was surprised and confused that it bothered him so much to hear the gunman laughing at his expense. It certainly wasn’t the first time he had been laughed at by Vash. And Nick had done more than his fair share of making fun of the other man. But for whatever reason, after all his brooding, the laughter cut him to the quick. His feelings slightly hurt, he looked away from the giggling Vash. His smoky eyes became intently fixed on the stars once again.

**”And what if I touched you? Or hurt you? Or punched you right now for laughing at me? How long would it take for you to be clean again?”** He closed his eyes, too tired for all of this half-drunken philosophy that was dominating his thoughts.

“Wolfwood?” Vash spoke, his giggles fading, but the smile plainly evident in his voice.

“What?” Nick breathed.

Suddenly Vash’s weight shifted and chill air blew in under the jacket. Vash’s voice was startlingly closer than it was the last time he spoke.

“I think you think too much.”

Moist breath against Wolfwood’s cheek as Vash spoke those words, frighteningly close. Nick’s eyes, flew open to see the shadow of Vash’s face. He could barely make out the turquoise eyes, the understated beauty mark, the flush in his cheeks, the long arrogant nose, and the pale pink curve of lips that made up the face of the renowned “Humanoid Typhoon.” The moonlight was glinting off of his earring in small winks, timed with the rise and fall of Vash’s chest, the intake of his breath. Nick’s heart was beating faster, faster, faster. Vash had sat up and was leaning over the priest, one arm positioned on either side of him, looking down at him closely. Their lips were nearly touching; the smallest of breaths would have pressed them against one another.

Closing that distance between their lips and pushing their mouths together would have been so easy. Vash remained hovering over Nicholas, not giving nor taking that fraction of a space. Wolfwood’s heart was pumping at what seemed to be a thousand times its normal pace. He was terrified for the first time ever of the man leaning over him. But at the same time, rushing through his veins at impossible speeds was a peculiar sense of excitement and desire. A tiny part of him WANTED to close that distance, to touch someone so clean, that simply kissing them would seemingly wash away all of his own sins, if only for a moment. He was sure that putting his lips on Vash, someone so pure and honest and loyal, would clean away the blood on his hands. It turned him on and simultaneously gave him a slight headache. Because he was equally sure that by taking that space, by touching his sand-beaten and slightly chapped lips to Vash’s tender, gentle ones, he would be lessening Vash’s innocence. Soiling his pristine existence. The blood might be washed from Wolfwood’s hands in the time during the kiss, but when they pulled away, would they BOTH be dirty?

**”I can’t do that. I will take responsibility for all the things I’ve done, for all the things I’m doing, and for every single thing that I will do. But I cannot ruin this man myself. I don’t always agree with him, but there’s something essentially RIGHT about him. He’s everything that I wish I had the guts to be. I know that HE would have stood up to Knives if he were in my position. He would have never let it get this-“**

“Wolfwood?” Vash murmured, his lips parting and closing with the syllables of the priest’s name, and in doing so, brushing feather light against Nicholas’ own lips. So light he could easily have imagined it. In fact, he wasn’t entirely sure that it wasn’t imagined, and that Vash did not speak his name at all.

Nicholas replied with a softly spoken “Yes?”

It was an answer to an unasked question more than it was an acknowledgement of his name being said. **”Yes, I want this. Yes, I need this right now. Yes, please, God, let him make a move. Let... Him... Touch... Me.”** He managed to draw in half of a shaky breath before Vash simultaneously sighed and kissed him. The breath Vash exhaled tickled Nick’s lips just before they were pressed against smooth, moist flesh. They stayed like that for a heartbeat. Two. Three. Nicholas could feel his heart pumping from his lips to his fingertips. His mild headache from the over-thinking he was doing just moments earlier gave way to a feeling of slight lightheadedness.

Wolfwood could feel gloved fingers at the nape of his neck, gently running up and down in tiny little strokes. He shivered again, but not from cold. It was the most exquisite feeling- the cold breeze on his skin, the warm lips on his own and the rough leather of a gloved hand on his neck. Every aspect of this kiss was gentle and honest and kind. **”Just like Vash.”** Nicholas thought.

He could have stayed there, laying in the sand, with Vash’s lips on his for eternity. It really did feel like heaven to him. But Vash broke the kiss and sat back in his own spot in the sand, next to Wolfwood. The red jacket still mostly covered Nicholas, but no longer Vash.

Wolfwood took a few deep breaths to calm himself before sitting up and looking at Vash. **”O.K. I can be civil about this. I’ll just...thank him? I don’t know. Damn! What do you say to something like that.?!?”** He slipped his shaky fingers into his jacket pocket to withdraw a cigarette and, finding one, slid it into his lips. He cleared his throat and looked desperately around the surrounding area for the discarded box of matches.

“Here.” Vash spoke, his voice slightly huskier than usual. He moved closer to his jacket, which was still covering Wolfwood. Nick could feel Vash’s fingers search and grab for the matches in a pocket that was draped across his thigh. The movement of fingers on his leg was so erotic that Nicholas gasped. He pulled his cigarette out from between his lips and flicked it to the ground before Vash even had the chance to withdraw his hand clutching the matches. Nick grabbed Vash by the shoulders and pulled the crouching blonde man closer, whispering a “Forget it” before stealing a second kiss.

This kiss was far less gentle. Nicholas sucked at Vash’s lower lip and Vash made a small guttural sound that resembled a moan. **”Hot. God, that is so hot.”** Nick thought, running one hand up the back of Vash’s stiff hair and letting the other drift down from neck to collarbone to chest. Vash opened his mouth and Nicholas snaked his tongue inside, reveling in the incredible warmth and taste of Vash the Stampede.

Nicholas pulled Vash down and into his lap, one leather-clad leg on either sidehis his hips.

They stayed like that, kissing ferociously in the early hours of the morning until it came time for one of them to make the next move or stop. Again, Vash pulled away first without a word, and Nicholas accepted it as the best decision with only a small sound of disappointment as argument. This led to Vash smiling one of his rare and honest smiles. They both lay down, and he curled up shamelessly against the blonde, his cool body against Vash’s warm one. His chest against Vash’s back. He wished there wasn’t a sheath of leather between the two. He imagined how hot Vash’s skin must be under all that to radiate warmth even through so much material. His mouth had been practically scorching, and the smooth skin of his lips had been a nice, toasty warm. Vash felt around blindly for his jacket, apparently too tired to get up to look for it. Upon locating it, he dragged the red material towards them and covered them up the best that he could. Wolfwood smiled contentedly as he pulled the fabric the rest of the way over himself, his guilt and concerns temporarily dissipated.

They drifted off to sleep.


---TBC---

*uh oh! We’re almost back to the beginning now! I’m kind of nervous about writing this next chapter. I get to write a character I’ve never even contemplated writing before. Wish me luck!

*Also, sorry if you were hoping for a lemon. I just don’t think they’d get that far on a first tnot not to mention that at this point Wolfwood isn’t really in LOVE with Vash, more like fascinated and possibly jealous (wouldn’t it be nice to be innocent by association?) There’s also guilt and occasional irritation. But I honestly believe it has all the makings for a great and tragic love. Eventually. But not quite at this moment. I trust them not to get jiggy until they’re in love, don’t you?

*Yes, I’m an evil fanfic tease!! Please review, darlings.