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It seemed like a good idea at the time.
Well, okay, maybe not a good idea, but definitely a funny one.
And yeah, maybe Vash had told him not to eat it, but once he'd confirmed that it wasn't deadly, Wolfwood had assumed the strange, fruit-like, item that they'd found at the dodgy town market was fair game.
And besides, the shriek that Meryl had let out when he ate it right in front of her, combined with the look of pure disgust on her face, had been absolutely worth it.
In hindsight, Wolfwood was deeply regretting ever putting anything in his mouth. Ever.
It'd started a couple of hours after the incident, when they were well on their way into a drive to the next town. If they kept good time, they'd make it before nightfall, and could stay in actual rooms with actual beds for the second night in a row. It was a tempting thought. Wolfwood had been content to rest for most of the journey, dozing away in the back of the car with Vash.
That was before the cramps had started.
They came on so slowly he didn't notice them for a long while, simply shifting position every time one got too strong, assuming the cramped backseat of the car and Meryl's dodgy driving was causing some leftover aches and pains from their last encounter with some people who were after the legendary humanoid typhoon. It wouldn't have been the first time he didn't notice a minor injury from a scuffle until a while later – the modifications they'd made to his body combined with the serum he takes on the regular to heal otherwise mortal wounds messed with his pain tolerance and healing rate massively. So when the first beginnings of the ache arrived, he hardly noticed, continuing to smoke and snooze the hours away in the back of the car. No, it wasn't until they'd pulled up at a gas station to fill up that he began to have an inkling that something might be wrong.
He slid out of the car almost as soon as it was parked, desperate to stretch his legs.
He was, however, stopped short by a sharp pain rolling in a wave across his abdomen as he stood up. Groaning, he leant an arm on the car and waited for it to pass, which it did, quickly. When it didn't happen again, he moved away from the vehicle hesitantly, as if testing the waters. And when that didn't hurt either, he simply shrugged off the incident and went about his planned business while they waited for the car to fill up.
Well, he tried to shrug it off at least. The spikey haired idiot had been keeping an eye on him the entire time, and quickly cornered him in the back of the store while the reporters were distracted paying for the fuel.
"Wolfwood, is everything all right?" He looked up to see a pair of big, blue, concerned, puppy dog eyes directed at him. He sighed, scrubbing a hand down his face.
"I'm fine, blondie. Don't worry your pretty little head about little old me." He leered, grinning and leaning into Vash's space only to push past him, his favourite sweets in hand. He pretended he couldn't hear the other man sigh as he walked away from him, far more preoccupied with the sugary treats he was about to consume.
By the time they had all piled back into the car however, the ache in his abdomen had returned, dimly this time, but it didn't seem to go away no matter how much he fidgeted. He sighed. It was just Nick’s luck to do something stupid for laughs and have it come back to bite him in the ass. Slouching down, chewing on a lollipop absent-mindedly, he prepared to ignore whatever was going on with himself for the rest of the journey. He was so preoccupied by trying to alleviate and ignore the ache at the same time that he didn't notice the mildly concerned look that Vash sent his way. Closing his eyes, he let the rhythmic jerking or the truck on the dunes lull him into an uneasy sleep.
When he next awoke, it was to the two suns just starting to kiss the horizon, and to a sharp, persistent ache encompassing his entire front. He winced, moving his arm to grab uselessly at his stomach. Fuck. The others were never gonna let him live this down, if he got sick from eating some stupid looking fruit. He tried to breathe shallowly, to lessen the movement of his sore tummy, but every minor movement of the car jolted him, worsening the pain. He kept his eyes closed, not daring to look at any of the others, though he could've sworn he felt eyes on him, watching intensely. He felt hot too, as if he was beginning to run a fever. Roberto had the window cracked open to let the smoke from his cigarette out, and Wolfwood had never felt so relieved to feel the cool night breeze, feeling the heat of the sun's rays on his face through the glass drift away into the dimmer light of the moons. And when they first spotted the lights of the settlement they were headed for in the distance, he could've cried with relief. He sent off a mini prayer to God, thanking him for not throwing some horrific disaster into their little gang's paths for today. Worries eased for the moment, he focused on making it through the last leg of the journey without revealing his current predicament to his travel companions. Deep yet shallow breaths, trying to think of anything but the ever increasing pain in his stomach. He lost himself in his own head, zoning out so much that the sudden stopping of the car startled him, causing his muscles to cramp painfully. Breathing out harshly through his nose, he waited for the pain to recede before exiting the truck.
The others had already made their way out, grabbing the various belongings they planned on taking into the crappy motel with them. The two journalists steamed on ahead, promising to grab the appropriate amount of rooms for them all. Wolfwood was quietly relieved that they were too distracted to notice any odd behaviour on his part. The last thing he needed was to be put under the scrutiny of the tiny lady. Roberto probably wouldn’t give a fuck – a thought that makes him quietly amused. He sighed, drawing a cig out and lighting it, exhaustion weighing down his every move. The familiar rush of nicotine did nothing to make him feel better. Vash took the punisher off of the luggage rack carefully, handing her to Wolfwood as soon as he could, receiving a barely there nod of thanks in return. He stood beside the truck, smoking his cigarette all the way down to the end, Vash lingering next to him awkwardly. He could tell the blonde wanted to say something, strike up a conversation with him, but whatever he saw in Nick's demeanour made him hold back. He thanked God for small mercies, but his relief was short-lived as he hefted his gun up onto his shoulder, biting his lip at the last second to prevent himself from crying out in pain as a wave of agony washes over him. He didn’t even realise he'd stumbled in place until he found himself looking up into Vash's face, a strong arm wrapping around his back in support.
"Are you sure you're feeling alright?" Vash seemed more instant this time, and the cold metal of his prosthetic arm felt like heaven to Wolfwood’s overheated back. Between the pain and the exhaustion he couldn’t find it in himself to prove him with a proper rebuttal.
"Whatever, blondie. It'll pass." He pushed away from the other man, ignoring how comforting it was to have someone pressed against him. Wolfwood gritted his teeth, lifting the punisher back up, and making his way into the shady motel to see where the others have got to. Vash trailed along behind him like an unwanted shadow. He found Meryl still lingering in the lobby, the slightly concerned look on her face making her look like an angry little dog. Wolfwood resisted the urge to snigger, saving that thought for some other antics he can pull on her later. He holds his hand out for the key, levelling her with an annoyed glare when she hesitated to pass it to him.
“C’mon shortie, I don’t have all night.” he drawled, holding back a sigh so he wouldn’t move his body any more than he had to. The fever and pain was aggravating him; he didn't want the others thinking him weak or useless, taken down by a stupid piece of fruit. No – he had to keep up the façade, he had to be the punisher, nothing else. Meryl sighed in relief as she saw Vash come up behind him, and she finally relented, dropping the key into his hand.
“Here. You two are sharing though – we couldn’t afford another room.” He feels Vash come to a sudden stop beside him, startled at the revelation.
Ahh, he thinks, that would explain her concern.
He sighs, rubbing his eyes tiredly, doing his best to keep his face blank as the movement of his arms causes the ache to increase momentarily. Rolling his eyes at the awkward atmosphere surrounding them, he pushed past Meryl towards the corridor with their rooms on it.
“I’m calling dibs on the first shower, blondie. Don’t need you hogging all the water again.” He didn’t bother checking to see if Vash was actually following him, content to stew on his own for a couple of seconds. Normally, he really wouldn’t mind sharing a room with the other man. The two of them got along quite well, the blonde being a very good conversationalist with an untapped wealth of knowledge he was more than happy to babble about while Wolfwood lounged around and smoked. However, this wasn’t exactly normal circumstances. Loathe as he was to admit it, Wolfwood was a little bit unsettled. He couldn’t remember the last time he had felt pain that wasn’t linked to a bullet wound, and he could heal those instantly with the serum. He didn’t know if it would have any effect on this, and the thought of drinking the liquid right now was making him nauseous. The way he felt right then was starting to remind him of when he’d gotten sick as a kid back at the orphanage, or when his body had been forcibly altered during his time under Conrad’s care with the cult. And he really, really, didn’t want to be reminded of those times.
He opened the door roughly, jamming the key into the crappy lock with way more force than needed. Fuck, now his hands were shaking slightly. Holding the door open so the jumpy blonde could slide past him into the room, he took a second to just try and breathe. It wasn’t a good idea, the ache in his tummy worsening when his rib cage expanded too much. He sighed, turning to carefully rest the punisher against the wall. Turning round, he nearly walked smack into Vash, who had stopped dead in his tracks for some unknown reason. Wolfwood winced as the sudden stop jolted his body, adding to the pain.
“What the fuck, needle-noggin?” He questioned harshly, beginning to lose patience with everything the universe was throwing at him today. Vash cleared his throat awkwardly, and gestured towards the bed.
The one, singular, bed.
Nick groaned, cursing under his breath. He was done - he really didn’t care any more. He wanted a nice, cold shower, and to curl up on the bed in the least painful position until whatever this illness that was affecting him had passed.
“Whatever, just- whatever.” He gave up, grabbing the bag with his night clothes in and promptly shutting himself into the bathroom, locking the door. Wolfwood took a second to collect himself, one hand resting as gently as it could on his tummy. Eventually, the sound of the other man pottering about their shared room could be heard through the door. Wolfwood turned to the small shower, flicking it on, and sighed in relief as water immediately began to flow from it. Gingerly, he began taking off his clothes, paying extra care to not flex his abdomen as much as possible. It made taking his trousers and pants off a little difficult, but he managed it. Stepping under the flow of water, he groaned in relief as its lukewarm temperate soothed his aching body. It didn’t take all the pain away, but it definitely improved it. He rested his head against the wall, relaxing. God, he wanted to stay under the spray forever.
He must've dozed off slightly, lulled by the feeling of the water, as the next thing he knew Vash was knocking on the door, calling out worriedly for him. Shouting back an apology, and a promise to be out in a few, Wolfwood peeled himself off of the wall, wincing as it pulled at the pain in his stomach. Fuck, seemed the shower hadn’t helped that much after-all. He sighed, shutting off the water. Grabbing a ratty towel off the rack provided, he hastily dried himself. Now that exhaustion had seeped into his bones, the fever, pain and nausea were worse than ever. Wolfwood could feel his eyes beginning to sting as tears welled up in them. He mentally shook himself, trying to get a grip on his tightly bottled emotions. He just needed to get dressed, get into the bed, and pass out. It would be gone in the morning; he was sure. And he could not risk having a breakdown - not here, not now. Not with his mission in the same god-damn room. He pulled his night clothes on, groaning softly when he had to bend to get into the pants, the added pressure on his stomach sending an agonisingly sharp wave of pain rolling through his body. Bile flooded the back of his mouth and he had to pause just to breathe for a few seconds, lest he throw up. He resolved to never eat anything stupid ever again, this feeling was decidedly not worth the couple of seconds of gratification that the prank had given him. Inching his way back upright, now fully dressed, he caught a glimpse of himself in what remained of the bathroom mirror.
Christ. He looked like shit.
His skin was dulled and pale, dark bags under his eyes highlighted by his ghost-like pallor. Despite having just dried himself, he looked wet again already, sweat from the fever and the exertion of holding back the nausea already beading on his skin. God, there was no way he was going to get past Vash looking like this – he already had a feeling the guy was suspicious that something was wrong with him, if he stepped out the bathroom like this, the blonde might think he was dying, or something equally as stupid. Nick sighed quietly to himself, wondering what to do: if he stayed in here any longer the blonde would get concerned, but the blonde was definitely going to be concerned at the sight of him when he stepped out the bathroom. Sighing he mulled over his options for a second before splashing some water on his face, and running his wrists under the tap for a bit, hoping it’d cool him down a little. He lent on the sink counter, towelling off his hair some more, wince permanently etched on his face from the pain of having to raise his arms. Breathing as shallowly as he could without hyperventilating, he finally decided to leave the bathroom. He was a trained killer; he could handle Vash worrying over him for one night.
Pulling away from the counter however, Wolfwood encountered another problem; dizziness. Overwhelming dizziness. He hastily grabbed back onto the counter, the entire room spinning. He closed his eyes, desperately battling against the feeling of bile creeping up the back of his throat. It was a losing battle though, and he bent over to vomit into the toilet bowl, entire abdomen cramping painfully. He gasped out in pain between heaves. Everything hurt. The way he felt was horribly reminiscent of some of the side effects of the experiments that had been forced onto him by the Eye of Michael, and he was starting to panic. Hot tears streaked down his face as he gave up trying to keep himself together. He felt like crap, everything hurt, and he was scared.
Vash must’ve heard him being sick, as the next thing he registered was the sound of the bathroom door being forced open behind him. He sobbed, arm shaking where he was desperately trying to hold himself up against the counter. Vash’s arm slid around his waist again, helping him kneel down when he vomited again. They stayed there, pressed together, while Nick puked everything in his stomach out.
When he was finished being sick he turned his head slightly, resting his forehead against the other’s collarbone. The blonde’s free hand brushed his hair back over and over, fingers caressing his scalp gently. He could hear him speaking softly, whispering soothingly to try and comfort him, but Nick was too far gone; too panicked, too ill. Everything felt too distant to process. But he felt somewhat safe, held up against the blonde’s chest, strong arms supporting most of his boy weight. So he let go of everything, every pent up emotion, and simply tucked his face into Vash’s neck and cried.
Time slipped away from him for a while. Wolfwood hadn’t genuinely had time to stop and have a good cry about… anything… that had happened to him since the orphanage.
Hell, he could count on one hand the number of times he’s cried in his life, he thinks.
But it felt good, cradled in Vash’s strong, unwavering grip. The blonde was warm, and he smelled familiar, and it soothed some instinctive, childish part of Wolfwood's brain. He felt safe here. And so he just let go, and sobbed for a little while.
When he came back to himself, calmed down enough to be sort of aware of things again, he felt exhausted. Just absolutely drained, all the way down to his bones. His stomach still hurt, the nausea was still there, but not as pressing of an issue now. He could taste the bile in his mouth though and it was rancid. He was still too warm, yet unable to stop trembling where he was held against Vash’s chest. His head hurt, too, eyes achy from crying, nose all sniffly. Fuck, there was probably a wet patch on Vash’s shirt. He found himself trying to mumble an unintelligible apology into Vash’s neck, throat all dry and sore. Vash understood what he was going for though, and surprised Wolfwood for the millionth time since they’ve known each other.
“Hey now, shh, you’ve got nothing to apologise for. You needed to cry, Nick, it’s okay.” His voice was gentle, whispering directly above Wolfwood's head. A hand cradled the back of his head, thumb brushing gentle patterns into the slightly curly hair there. Wolfwood found himself sniffling again, new tears welling up in his eyes at the other man’s patience, acceptance, and the gentle way he treated him despite knowing who Nick is, the awful things he’s done, and the awful things that are to come. Vash pressed his lips to the top of Wolfwood’s head, gently yet undeniably there. Nick scrunched his eyes closed, burying his face further into Vash’s neck as new tears leaked out and down his face. He focused on trying to relax in the other man's embrace, his own arms wound tightly around the other man, shaky fists clenched in his shirt.
Time passed strangely while they knelt on the ground together, in the distant, fuzzy way it tended to when Wolfwood found everything to be a bit too much. And today had definitely been too much. It could’ve been hours or minutes before they moved, he had no idea. Vash didn’t seem to mind either, content to stay on the ground with Wolfwood for however long he needed. Eventually though, the tears truly dried out, and though the nausea remained present, the overwhelming desire to be sick had faded back to just the dull aching of his stomach. The tiles under them on the floor had begun to leech the heat from his legs when he finally found the courage to pull his head away from its newfound home in Vash’s neck. Still, Nick couldn’t bring it in himself to meet Vash’s eyes; he still felt far too vulnerable for that.
Luckily, Vash seemed to understand this without him having to say anything. His hands slid from their positions to cup Wolfwood’s cheeks, thumbs brushing the remainders of tear tracks away, gently. He kept his eyes downcast, but Nick could still see the soft smile on the other man’s face.
“Do you think you’re done here?” Vash asked gently, head tilting slightly towards the toilet bowl. Nick thought for a second, giving himself a mental once-over, before nodding slightly. The blonde reached out and flushed the loo, before sliding his other hand from Nick’s face to round his back.
“Do you feel good enough to lie down for a bit? To get some sleep?”
“Yeah.” Wolfwood’s voice came out all quiet and croaky, throat dry and sore after vomiting, and he winced a little at the sound of it. Vash simply nodded his head softly, before helping Nick up off of the cold floor. He groaned as his joints protested after being sat down there for so long. Dizziness had him swaying a little as he found his feet, Vash’s arm round his back acting as a warm, steadying presence. The blonde shuffled them to the sink, tipping their toothbrushes out of a glass on the counter and filling it with water from the tap instead.
“It’s not the best, but it’ll remove the bad taste in your mouth at least.” He mumbled apologetically, and Wolfwood found the strength in his shaky arms to thump the other man in the shoulder. Vash acted accordingly, dramatically yelping and pouting as he put the glass down to rub his arm.
“Niiiick… what was that for?” He whined. Wolfwood chuckled at the dramatics. He knew he could rely on his friend to lighten the mood.
“For acting as if the shitty water system here is any of your god-damn fault.” he mumbled, picking the discarded glass of water up and taking a swig. He spat the first mouthful back into the sink, before taking in another smaller one to wet his throat.
“Now c’mon, I'm tired, Spikey.” He sighed. Vash stopped fooling around, back to alertness in less time than it took him to blink, and plucked the glass out of Wolfwood’s hands before leading him to the bed.
He placed the glass down on a side table gently, making sure it was close enough to be grabbed without getting out of the bed. Pulling back the covers with his free hand, he tipped Nick into bed, much to his protests.
“Blondie, I know how to move.” He grumbled, all whilst swinging himself under the covers properly. Vash grinned mischievously at him.
“Yeah, I know.” The blonde parried back, darting out of the way as Wolfwood tried to swat at him from the bed. Chuckling, he unlaced his boots, kicking them off toward their bags haphazardly. Wolfwood rolled his eyes, electing to ignore the other man’s antics, and took stock of himself instead. His throat felt fine now he’d had a little to drink, and would no doubt be a complete non-issue by morning. As would the dizziness and stomach ache, he hoped. Though, he had to give vomiting some credit, as much as he hated the experience – he was feeling a little better now already.
He relaxed back into the lumpy mattress, ready to properly settle down for the night. There was still something that was bugging him, though. He flicked his eyes over to the blonde man, now settled in his own sleep clothes, about to turn the lights off for the night after checking the door was properly locked.
Wolfwood worried his lip between his teeth, debating another show of vulnerability in front of the other man. It could always come back to bite him in the ass after all. Knowing his luck, it would anyway, regardless of what happened next, so he decided ‘fuck it’, he could be a little selfish, if only for the night.
“...Spikey?” He whispered, knowing the plant would be able to hear him from across the room. Vash looked up instantly, his head snapping to where Wolfwood lay in the bed.
“Yeah? Are you alright? Do you need something?” He was already moving closer before Wolfwood had a chance to speak, and he chuckled at the blonde’s eagerness to help.
“Yeah, ‘m good blondie. Just… will you stay? In the bed with me, I mean,” He looked away shyly, unable to meet Vash’s eyes, “For the night?”
A soft, real smile stretched across Vash’s face, and he flicked the lights off, clambering instantly under the covers with Nick.
“Of course. Anything you want. You’ll feel better in the morning, I promise.” He slung his arm across Wolfwood’s waist, tugging them together, letting Nick leech all the excess heat from his body. His body relaxed instantly against his friends, muscles losing all signs of tenseness. Wolfwood hummed slightly, and closed his eyes, settling down to a night of being the little spoon for Vash the Stampede.
Exhausted body already drifting off, he managed to mumble softly to his friend.
“G’night Spikey.”
He might’ve felt the gentle press of someone’s lips against the crown of his head, if sleep hadn’t already claimed him. A barely there whisper sighed into the quiet of their room.
“Goodnight, Nicholas.”