kinkfest | Taken [Trigun, Vash/Wolfwood, PG-13]

Title - Taken
Author/Artist - timmesque
Rating - PG-13
Warnings - None
Word Count - 578
Summary - June 5th - Trigun - Wolfwood/Vash; a break from angst - it isn't fair so for a moment he'll forget that

"Taken"
By Timmesque

Today, they talked about flowers.

Vash explained that flowers could be any colour, any variation. He scribbled it onto the paper vigorously with a few colour pencils he had pawned off a kid in the street. Wolfwood simply leaned on his hand, the cigarette precariously dangling in his mouth, waiting to dump ash on the table. Vash scrawled a few roses, orchids and tulips. He stopped at the others when Wolfwood pointed out the proportions were completely off and the petals looked more like gaping claws, ready to ensnare weary creatures. Vash simply sighed regretfully.

"What's the big deal anyway?" Wolfwood said, "They're just flowers."

Vash simply eyed the Punisher which stood like a solitary demonic shadow in the bar, "And that's just a gun."

Wolfwood hastily coughed, his cigarette switching from his mouth to his gunpowder-stained fingers.

"Still a matter of perception, Spikey."

Vash nodded wisely.

-XX-

In the afternoon, the heat beat down on them unrelentingly. They retreated to the dusky shade of the apartment, gripping two bottles of alcohol in each hand. They cradled the bottles closely, the cool liquid easing the burn of the sun. Vash lounged on the bed, his hand covering his face like a prayer while Wolfwood leaned again the him, black hair brushing against the covers.

"What is today?" Wolfwood muttered, pressing into bed, wood biting into his neck.

Vash simply turned over and ran a hand through Wolfwood's hair, "Who knows? Just enjoy it for what it is."

"What is it?" Wolfwood repeated softly, not pushing the hand away.

"A day."

-XX-

Evening passes and they take to the balcony, the wind whistling through the walls like a long-lost ghost descending upon them briefly. Wolfwood doesn't think, he simply digs his face into Vash's shoulder, tracing the wistful lines on the man's body.

Vash chuckles, dry and light, almost like the very breath of the wind that spun around them.

"Feeling lonely?" Vash said with that aching fake smile that was partially real, partially made up and full of pain in every cut above a monster.

"I have my moments," Wolfwood said, his voice muffled by Vash's shoulder, "Just give me today."

Vash nodded, "I can do that."

-XX-

He thinks of light and extinguishing it. What of the flame born? Where does it go? Vash lights the candle in the room thoughtfully.

Life has never been fair, he thought, never. He places the candle by the window, letting its slow glow sink into the corners of the room like some divine sweetness he had long forgotten. Wolfwood unhooks the bottle cap and takes a long swig of the wine, letting rivulets of it slide down from his lips like blood. Vash smiled and carefully wiped his face, "Don't stain the bed."

Wolfwood licked his lips and smirked, "Time for that later?"

Vash leaned into him, their foreheads barely touching each other. And he thinks about fairness and dark days that lay ahead, the guns that are neatly tucked away in his coat. He shed the red coat, letting the weaponry curl up on the floor and kissed Wolfwood, his fingers gripping the back of his neck akin to one clinging to a stufftoy. His fingers grazed the edges of Wolfwood's face, like the markings of his lifeline on the man's face.

A moment in time, marked, stained, soft and untouchable, Vash thought. He just wanted Wolfwood to have that much.

It was the most and the least Vash had to offer.