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When Wolfwood gets back to the room, Vash is putting the last pieces of his gun back into place. There’s oil, a dirtied cloth, and bullets on the table. Judging by how long it usually takes Vash to clean his gun, Wolfwood has been gone longer than he planned. The last sun is low in the sky, casting golden rays across the tiny room.
“Welcome back!” Vash smiles brightly.
He doesn’t ask where Wolfwood went. He never does, and Wolfwood is thankful for that. It eases what little is left of his conscience not to lie to Vash.
“They didn’t have much to choose from, but this should do the job nicely.” Wolfwood sets a paper bag onto the table. Glass bottles clink together.
“One please!” holding an index finger up as Vash makes his request.
Playing bartender, Wolfwood pulls two glasses out and pours a splash of whiskey into each one.
“Tell me what’s troubling you, traveler.” He slides Vash’s glass across the table.
“Well, you see..I’m a wanted man, but not by any nice ladies, if you know what I mean.” Vash hams it up. The two men laugh, clink their glasses together, and take a drink.
After both bottles are rolling empty on the floor, they take turns regaling each other with wild, completely not-embellished stories from their past encounters and travels.
“And it wasn’t even missing! It was in the safe the whole time! That idiot paid me 2,000 double dollars for nothing!” Wolfwood finishes his tale.
Their heads tilt back with raucous laughter, throwing an arm around each other’s shoulder. As they slowly regain their composure, the faint clamor of crowded streets below the open window fade away. For a moment, the world is silent.
Wolfwood’s heart is beating out of his chest. He’s almost positive he can actually hear it. He looks at Vash, whose face is so close now. Not a wrinkle in sight, despite his age. He’s still quietly giggling to himself.
Would it be wrong? Wolfwood thinks to himself. Is it wrong if I want more than this, Tongari? You deserve better.
The golden haze from the setting sun gives Vash a soft glow, as if he himself is radiating light. A warm fire in the dark desert night. A hearth that Wolfwood gathers himself around. Warmth swells up from somewhere deep, buried, and broken inside him, as Wolfwood leans in. A space that once was gray suddenly explodes into vibrant shades of red.
Feeling brave, Wolfwood brings a hand to cup Vash's cheek. Vash's giggles are broken with a soft, inquisitive hum. Wolfwood gently presses their lips together. It's warm and unsure. Vash freezes, not kissing back, but not pulling away.
When Wolfwood leans back, Vash doesn't react. He keeps looking down at the floor, emotionless. Something between them has shattered. Of course Wolfwood ruined the one good thing in his life. The blood on his hands splashes onto everything pure and good. He thought Vash the Stampede, Vash the Humanoid Typhoon, was different, already bloodied by his own painful past. Maybe they could have stitched each other's open wounds closed, even if they won't fully heal.
“Vash, I — I didn't mean… I was… ah fuck.” He stands up and rubs his hand on his hair. “I crossed a line. I'm sorry." Grabbing his jacket and cigarettes, he starts towards the door.
“Wolfwood." Vash’s voice comes out small as Wolfwood reaches for the handle. "Please, again.”
He freezes, hand still gripping the cool metal handle. Cautiously, Wolfwood looks over his shoulder at Vash. The unlit cigarette he stuffed into his mouth nearly falls. Vash’s face is flushed cherry red, as he sheepishly tries to avoid eye contact.
“What was that, Tongari?"
“Don't make me say it," Vash pouts. "I haven't… I'm… it's just that it's been a long time since I've thought of anyone in that way. Just took me off guard. It was… nice.” A soft smile touches his eyes. “Please, again."
Wolfwood pockets his cigarette as he strides back to Vash. Before he can bend down, Vash is standing level with him. He grabs the lapels of Wolfwood's jacket. This time, it feels like a real kiss. It's steadfast with resolve. Wolfwood was right. He did cross a line, and there's no going back now.