Snomnomnom @loominairy - Tumblr Blog

Jun 13

Lean On Me (Little!Vash)

Summary: Leading up to the anniversary of the big fall, Vash can’t stop having accidents in his sleep. Wolfwood offers a solution that Vash isn't too fond of...

~~~

Or: A 3+1 of Vashs accidents that lead to him wearing a diaper (non sexual!!)

Beginning Note: Yes I headcanon vash as a padded regressor (at least when he regresses quite young) idk if i have a specific range for little vash but I think the oldest he regresses to is 10. It's how old he looked/was treated for the year he had with Rem, so it's a happy time. But he usually regresses smaller (~toddler) in times of stress because he physically aged so fast.

Remember, there is no shame in wearing a diaper regardless of your reasoning. And while Vash is about to feel very shameful, he WILL unlearn that and accept that nothing is wrong with it :) Also while there are good feels in this, Vash is pretty miserable for the first ~4k words so be aware of that

I have an idea cooking on the back burner for little Wolfwood. But my next fic will likely be another little Vash since I have a WIP that's already halfway done. As usual they can be ready as platonic or romantic

‼️TW Vash is subject to emotional hurt/comfort, detailed nightmares, dissociation, flashbacks, and anxiety about the Big Fall

📝 Word Count: 8526

🔗 Ao3 Link

Vash does not like this time of year. It's largely indistinguishable from any other time given the weather doesn't change, but the people do. Nearly two centuries since the Big Fall, and one of Vash's greatest failures.

Humans have their own way of reacting to this year after year. Some get extra vulgar. Extra violent. They must be hurting, Vash thinks, and taking it out in the only way this planet accepts. It's nothing but a reminder of the hell hole they inhabit, humanity’s last stand going out in a small blip as their resources–the Plants, his sisters, dwindle and die out. Or if Knives succeeds in his plan before Vash gets around to stopping him. Whichever may come first.

Some people get quiet and solemn. Whether they're thinking of what could have been, or the lives lost during and directly after the Big Fall is unclear. But they tend to be less present and more despondent. Some people despite it all even celebrate. Not the fall itself but the fact they're still alive. No Man's Land is unforgiving, but if their ancestors survived and gave them this community, they'll continue to do the same. Because humans are resilient.

Vash finds himself fitting in the most with the celebrators. People get quite friendly, often enough to spare a pint or two for a stranger down on his luck. He never turns down their offers, but he can't drink in celebration when he's so wracked with guilt. If not for him, they wouldn't need to celebrate like this. If he'd been faster or more aware of Knives’ plan before it was too late, things wouldn't be the way they are.

He tends to roam the desert with no destination in mind leading up to the anniversary. Being in dusty, run down cities and backwater towns only reminds him of what he's done to these innocent people. The sight of broken buildings, murky water, and clothes that are much too big on too-thin bodies sickens him. He sickens himself.

So he does what he's best at and runs away. With enough time those feelings will abate. Not entirely, but enough for him to offer the next person he sees a smile instead of an apology.

Traveling with Wolfwood has thrown many wrenches in his plan this year.

☆One☆

Steel rattles harshly as their ship veers off-course. The clunk of heavy metal strikes fear into his core. Vash chases after Rem, his little limbs hardly able to keep up with her long strides. Alarms blare around them, bathing the long hallway in red as the system notifies them of compounding failures. Suddenly the ship is sent careening, tilting on its axis.

They're going to crash! She tries to get him into an escape pod. He clings to her, urging her to stay close, to escape with him and Knives. They'll be safe in the escape pod. They'll be safe together. She doesn't listen, She’s the only one who can fix the ship, she says.

She shoves him in the escape pod, entrusting Knives’ wellbeing to him. He doesn't feel capable of that. He feels weak and helpless, he wants Rem’s arms to cradle them and keep them warm and safe. He just wants them all to stay together, in their safe haven before the people in cryosleep wake up. The pod door slides shut, separating them both from Rem’s melancholic smile.

Their pod shoots away. The last thing Vash sees is her retreating figure, blurred by the tears in his eyes. His throat feels raw with the screech he lets out. The ships get smaller and smaller as their escape pod zips through space, falling through the atmosphere onto a strange planet. Vash turns to his brother, hardly able to see the smirk on his face before a crash rings out–

And he shoots awake.

Vash rolls onto his side, confined by his sleeping bag from flailing wildly. He sucks in a breath and recenters himself, taking notice of what's around him. He’s on the rough ground barely cushioned by his bedroll and just a few hairs away from the dead embers of a fire. He must have rolled towards it in his attempt to escape.

He looks just past it and spots the sleeping form of Wolfwood a little ways away. The ringing in his ears slowly fades, allowing him to hear Wolfwood’s light snores. Vash shakily breathes in, holds it, then lets it out. He looks up at the sky; the blue of night is beginning to fade into the pink of early morning. He sighs and tries to crawl out of his sleeping bag but—

Oh.

The bedroll is squishy and damp, the same dampness clings to his pants uncomfortably. As his senses slowly return to him the sharp acrid scent of urine reaches his nose. Vash flushes with shame.

This isn't the first time he's had an accident since back then, but he shouldn't be having this problem at his big age at all. He doesn't feel big though. The crushing hazy pressure in his skull weighs down on his brain. He feels too big for his body; too long limbs, too foreign surroundings. Part of him wonders why Knives isn’t next to him. Weren't they traveling together just after The Fall?

No. Vash shakes his head free from that thought. That was ages ago, two centuries, just about. But it is nearing that anniversary, it's just two weeks out by now. His nightmares always get worse around this time.

Vash digs his fingers into his palms and slips out of his bedroll completely. He should use this time to clean. Wolfwood will be awake sooner than he knows it, and he can’t excuse this with anything believable or less embarrassing.

Vash grabs his own canteen of water, drags his bedroll far away enough, and gets to cleaning. He’ll have to borrow Wolfwood’s water until they make it to another town, or maybe stay away from it altogether. He can go longer without water than humans so he’d be fine. It would lessen the chance he wets himself on the road as well, that’d be much worse and hard to hide. That’s a concern for later though. For now, he has to clean himself and act as well-adjusted and adult-like as he possibly can.

☆Two☆

Just a week away from that dreaded anniversary and they're spending another night out on the dunes. Vash has been having trouble figuring out how Wolfwood feels about this. The man doesn't show any strong lean towards averse or celebratory, just…resignation. Maybe he doesn’t particularly care, which is fine. Vash chooses not to ask him about it. If Wolfwood doesn't make a big deal out of it, then neither will he. It'll be better for them both that way.

The night turns merry as Wolfwood brandishes a bottle of booze from his bag. They laugh, drink, and eat their rations with gusto. When the chill of night bites at them more than the warmth of the fire, they call it a night. Their bottle has long since been empty so they crawl into their sleeping bags wishing the other good night.

Vash's head sloshes and sways dizzyingly. The world tips on its axis, careening into darkness as he falls asleep.

It’s hot. Hotter than hot. Scalding, burning, scorching all around him. The loose sand beneath him is painfully hot, singeing his small hands pink as he digs his fingers in.

Cackling…Someone is cackling…Who could laugh at a time like this?

Vash looks up, gasping in horror as hundreds of ships fall through the sky. They leave bright streaks of white and fiery orange in their wake on the dark backdrop of the sky. The already-crashed ships burn endlessly, swirling heat around him uncomfortably.

He looks up at one ship jutting out of the sand, already knowing the cryopods inside are damaged beyond repair, and the people within will not wake up. He looks up and up at the highest point, where the cackling emanates from. There he sees him.

Knives?!

His brother turns to him slowly, the flames lighting half of his face in yellows and reds. Vash’s ears ring, he can hardly catch what Knives screams at him; something about making their own paradise without human scum. That's not knives, his brother wouldn't do this, weren't they going to live peacefully alongside the humans? With Rem?

His breathing picks up, his chest squeezes painfully tight, and the world spins in and out of focus. A black void at the edge of his vision begins to swallow him, the scene of Knives before him gets smaller and smaller until—

Vash gasps, body ramrod straight as he’s forced awake once more. He clutches the thin fabric of his blanket. Wheezy breaths stutter out of his lungs, which burn with remnants of acrid smoke. It's not real, he tells himself. Well, not anymore. It was very real at one point, and he hates whenever he’s reminded of it. Despite knowing this, it still feels real to him at the moment.

The sand beneath feels too hot to touch directly, warmed by the flames of fallen ships. Cool air seeps around him, having escaped from many crushed and busted cryo pods. The people, their people–! Terror wracks his body, seizes his limbs and he shakes uncontrollably.

He lets out quick airy gasps. He can't breathe, he can't breathe, too much smoke and heat clogging his lungs. He chokes on nothing, coughing harshly and rolling onto his side. He squeezes his eyes shut, willing the world to stop spinning and his stomach to stop roiling.

Vash yelps and scrambles out of his bedroll, too afraid to turn around, too scared of seeing his brother leering down at him, smirking and ranting about the disgusting and exploitative human race. His eyes dart around, taking in the dark night sky and twinkling stars–glowing brighter and brighter like they're sailing, hurdling through space about to meet an abrupt and uninhabitable surface. He tears his eyes away and looks at the sand beneath him instead. It's a little loose, but not so much his hands sink completely into it. He fists the sand and lets the granules spill out between his fingers.

Gradually he gathers himself, his breathing eases and he feels more in his body than before. He's exhausted and it's only now he registers the cold damp patch of his crotch. It makes his leathers stick to him uncomfortably.

He doesn't need to feel his bedroll to know it must be soaked too.

Suddenly it feels like too much again; his head is too fuzzy, like the static of a ship's downed computer crackling painfully within him. He clutches his head in his hands, grabbing and tugging his black and blond strands before startling and recoiling.

He looks down at his hands, flips them palm up and palm down, flexes his fingers and cringes. He’s too big. He shouldn't be this big. He clenches his hands and stretches his limbs slowly as awareness gradually returns to him. He feels gangly; his limbs and body are too long, too grown up and injured. This frustrates and irks him, the feeling floods him more intensely than it usually would, feeling too small for these big emotions.

He grits his teeth and tries to wade through the sluggishness of his mind. Okay, he’s small, but that's fine. He's the only one awake so he can hide it. He wet himself, which he's less okay with, but he can handle that too. He shakily inhales and stands on shaky legs.

His damp leathers cling to him grossly, but they took the brunt of the mess since his coat is relatively dry. He grumbles and begins to gather his bedroll, hoping to have it washed and dried before the suns rise.

Something shifts across the clearing. Fabric rustles and joints pop as Wolfwood turns over. Sleepy brown eyes gaze at him—piercing, judging, Vash thinks, before calming himself. No, just curious—from across the burnt-out fire.

“Mmn…Bl'ndie..?” Nico grumbles, lifting onto his forearm to see him better.

Vash stares wide eyed, unable to think of a good excuse for why he's up at this hour.

“...Fuck are ya standin’ all creepily for?”

“Ah, I'm just–” Vash's voice is lighter than normal, he clears his throat and continues. “I think I had too much to drink. I kind of, uhmm.” While he’s lying about the reason, it's still embarrassing to admit he soiled himself.

“Were ya that drunk ya pissed yerself?”

Vash frowns. Nico isn’t in much place to judge given he doesn't sound all the way sober either. But he also didn't piss himself awake like Vash did. Even so, hearing it verbalized is upsetting and destabilizing like a punch to the gut. He swallows the lump in his throat. The sooner Nico falls back asleep, the sooner Vash can shamefully wash up and air dry in the frigid temperature of the desert night.

“Ahahah, yeah. But ‘m alright now. Just need to clean up, so...”

Nico briefly eyes him up and down but thankfully gets the hint and rolls onto his other side to give Vash privacy. “C’mon Needles–” Nico yawns and gets comfy again. “–even kids know yer supposed to go before ya fall asleep.” He mumbles, already drifting back to sleep.

While not purposeful, it's funny Nico compared him to a kid. Something within him feels validated but also humiliated. Humans much smaller and younger than him have better bladder control than he does. Vash sighs. He’s thankful the alcohol gave him an out but he still has to clean up.

He undoes the several belts keeping his boots clasped to his legs, then undoes even more belts around his hips; all while distantly cursing his bigger self for thinking it was okay to wear this. His fingers feel too little and clumsy to unsnap each belt, but he manages. It isn't long before he’s once again using the last of his canteen to soak his bedroll and pants. They’ll need a proper wash eventually, but for now he throws them over a rock to dry.

He slips out of his coat and lays it on the ground to sit on. He hopes his leathers dry before his bedroll, as being bare just makes him feel smaller.

The cold air on his skin is almost welcome. The burning heat of his nightmare still flickers at the recesses of his mind, and he doesn't want to fall back into a fitful sleep of scalding sand and burning metal. So the cold does well to keep him away from it all.

He slips into a light reverie listening to Nico's snores and watching the twinkling stars.

☆Three☆

Vash hasn't slept in days. The Big Fall’s anniversary is only a few days away, and his nightmares have been tormenting him more than usual. Going to sleep means reliving that night and the following decades he spent with Knives. He risks waking up thinking its Knives next to him and not Wolfwood, and grabbing a hefty rock to stop humanity’s problem at its source. But he hesitates, he always does, and he always will. Even when he held that stone over Knives’ sleeping form all those years ago he couldn't do it, he especially can't do it now when the shape of his brother flickers in and out of sight, and Wolfwood—because he hasn't truly seen Knives in ages–comes back into view.

Staying awake also lessens the risk of soiling himself.

They've only spent one more night outside since his last accident. The dunes of that area lures bandits and bounty hunters in droves due to it being near a larger city, and Vash offered to keep first watch. Of course he never actually woke Wolfwood up in time for them to trade sleep and surveillance, which Wolfwood gave him an earful for the next day, but it was worth it. Vash has better control of himself when he's conscious and not at the mercy of his own mind.

While it was lonely, that feeling wasn't new to him. He quite liked the alone time it granted him, and no hunters found them, so it was peaceful.

But now, and for the past couple of nights, they managed to snag a hotel room for cheap. They hadn't planned to stay more than two days, but a sandstorm rolled in just before they were going to check out yesterday. So they're trapped until it blows over, hopefully in just a day or two.

While the break is nice, the storm keeps Vash up at night. Sand whips past the window at breakneck speeds, blasting the glass in harsh sprays so forceful he worries they’ll crack. The battered hotel creaks and groans around them. It's even worse in the darkness of night, the light of the moons is blocked by thick walls of sand. Its like hes back in ship five; the swaying, jostling vessel, creaking and splintering, burning and burning, hurtling down faster–too fast, they won’t survive–

“Spikey!”

Vash blinks, the image of his home being destroyed fades and the bland, scratched wall he’d been staring at comes back into view. There’s a few bullet holes piercing the ugly, peeling wallpaper. He wonders what happened and how long ago.

“Needle-Noggin, ya in there?”

Right, Wolfwood is talking to him. He hopes his face didn't give anything away.

Vash turns away from the wall to face Wolfwood. He stands in the doorway of the adjoined bathroom, topless but wearing fresher pants and holding dirty clothes from earlier in the day. “Sorry, Wolfwood, what did you say?”

Wolfwood scoffs and walks to the foot of the bed where his small travel bag sits. He shoves his clothes in it and pulls a dress shirt out and puts it on. “I said the shower ‘s all yers.” He closes his bag and looks up at Vash. “Try not to zone out in there, we ain’t paying fer unlimited water. “Already gotta cough up more than I'd hoped, damn storm.” Wolfwood mutters and reaches for a cigarette before grumbling and plopping into the chair by the window. They haven't been able to open the window and the building is poorly ventilated so Wolfwood has abstained from smoking which left him irritable.

“You can smoke, I don't mind.” Vash reassures. He walks over to his rucksack. He feels groggy and his movements off, like he's creating afterimages of every move he makes. “I’ll be in the bathroom anyway so I won't smell it.”

Wolfwood shrugs and reaches for his lighter on the bedside table. He fishes for a crumpled loose cigarette and waves his hand in thanks. Vash smiles, grabs a pair of tattered sweatpants, and heads to the bathroom.

He leans against the back of the door, trying to hold himself together. The noise of the storm is dulled in here, and will be further so under the spray of cold water. That could even help snap him out of his daze.

With a slow, deep breath, Vash peels himself away from the door and starts to undress

———

Maybe all he needed was a good shower. Even if he spaced out more than he'd like and the water shut off before he was done. That's fine, clean enough is a rule all inhabitants of No Man's Land must live by. His head feels less fuzzy and he's ready for another restless night.

When he steps into the bedroom the scent of smoke hits him. It's old and stale though as Wolfwood has long since ashed his cigarettes. It further grounds him that, yes, he's sharing a room with Wolfwood, and not hurtling through the vacuum of space.

Wolfwood had been kneeling at the foot of the bed, rosary tucked over his hands which are clasped in evening prayer. Vash quietly shoves his dirty clothes in his rucksack so as to not disturb the man. But it seems Wolfwood was done anyway, as he stands on crackling knees and replaces his rosary around his neck.

“I hope you prayed for this storm to pass soon.” Vash jokes, sitting on his side of the bed. Wolfwood flops on his back next to him, grinning.

“Somethin’ like that. He’s supposed to work in ‘mysterious ways’ so if the storm blows over before tomorrow thank the Big Guy upstairs.”

Vash has never been one for faith, not as devoted as Wolfwood can be at times, but he appreciates the peace it brings people. He knows he doesn't deserve such comfort, and prayer brings him immense feelings of shame and guilt, so he chooses not to practice.

“Ya still need this on?” Wolfwood asks, hand raised to flick the bedside lamp off. Vash shakes his head and slips under the blanket, laying on his back.

The lamp clicks and the room falls into darkness. The blanket rustles and shifts next to him as Wolfwood gets settled on his side, facing away from Vash. With a heavy sigh he wishes Vash goodnight. Vash murmurs a quiet goodnight and closes his eyes. He waits, and waits, and waits.

Eventually, Wolfwood’s breath evens out, so Vash opens his eyes. His eyes sting painfully and the throbbing in his head persists, but its miniscule for what he's keeping at bay. His eyelids protest reopening with every blink, sometimes they're shut for just a little too long and he startles awake. No matter how tantalizing the embrace of sleep is for his overworked mind, he fights it.

He blinks and tries to focus on his body as a distraction. His muscles are tight but they sink into the bed, despite Wolfwood complaining about its stiffness when they first checked in. Maybe it feels better on his over-exhausted body.

He blinks for too long, he notices, as his eyes truly burn when they reopen. A sudden blast of hurtling sand shakes the building and Vash's eyes shoot open for the moment. Being just one layer between painful and cloying waves of sand frightens him more than he wants to admit. He breathes out slowly and blinks again.

His eyes stay shut as the rumbling storm becomes rattling metal and blaring alarms in his terror-filled mind.

And he falls asleep.

Flashes of pain are all he's able to remember as he jolts awake.

He remembers feeling afraid. And hot. Afraid of Rem's fate as the ship exploded after their escape pod had rocketed away. Afraid and sweltering as Knives stood over him, rambling about their perfect world. Their Eden, one without humans, this little event would only be the start of his plan.

Vash feels stuck in time, like he never grew past that point of his life. He can't differentiate between the raging storm and still-falling ships landing with a heavy crash, and the silent yell of thousands of lives snuffed out.

He sucks in a breath and rubs at his eyes with a fist, willing those horrid memories away. He draws his legs closer to curl in on himself and only then does he notice the dampness of his crotch.

No. No, no, no, this can't be happening! Vash stiffens and slides a hand beneath him. Yep, definitely soaked. He chances a glance beneath the blanket. His eyesight is much better in the dark compared to humans, so the extent of his…accident is in full view.

Shit.

It reached Wolfwood's side of the bed too. Not that it's very hard since they didn't have much space to begin with. Vash's breathing picks up. Until now he'd been able to hide this part of him, hide the fact he can’t hold his bladder when he feels younger than he truly is. He hiccups and fights back tears, rubbing at his eyes again. He wants to burrow into the blanket and call out for Rem, but he knows she won't be coming. He has to do this himself.

Vash unfurls himself and stumbles out of bed, accidentally stomping instead of gently stepping down. He forgot how close to the ground his longer limbs are. He doesn't feel big. His throat seizes but he chokes the feeling back in favor of sitting up and scrambling to stand. The bed creaks painfully loud in the silence of the room.

…Silence?

Vash glances at Wolfwood. The man has stopped snoring, likely when Vash stumbled out of bed.

“…Th’ fuck?” Wolfwood mumbles and pats the sheets beneath him, then cringes when he feels it's damp. He looks up at Vash who he must have just noticed standing. "...Spikey...?"

Shit. Now Nico knows. It was bad enough he can't act his age but now he’s dragged Nico into it. A whine bubbles in Vash's throat but he swallows it down.

“Uhm..” Vash squeaks, even he can tell he doesn't sound like himself. He can only hope Wolfwood's sharp senses are dulled in his sleepy state and won't pick up on his tone.

“..Wh's wrong with ya..?”

Well. Vash always did have shit luck.

Vash laughs awkwardly. “I, uh–” He swallows thickly. “–Didn't..didn't mean to but, uhm..” He crumples under Nico's scrutinizing gaze.

Feeling horrifically small he sniffles and gnaws his lip. The sooner he gets it out the sooner Nico can rightfully rip him a new one for disturbing him. “Had an accident.” He awkwardly coughs. “Again..” He isn't sure how he can excuse it this time, so he doesn't try.

“Geez Blondie.” Nico grumbles while sitting up and scooting away from the wet spot. This puts him on the very edge of the already-small bed. “Th’ way yer fidgeting ya'd think someone died.” Wolfwood rubs at his eyes while reaching for the lamp. Vash winces as the bulb flickers to life, making his accident all the more known.

“..‘S like ya spilled a whole cup of water..” Nico mumbles, finally able to take in the extent of the mess.

Vash isn't sure he can shrink into himself anymore than he is now.

Nico's body crackles as he stretches and stands. He grimaces at the stain on his pants but gets to work stripping the bed.

Vash immediately protests, stumbling over himself to try and help. It's his mess so he should be the one to fix it.

Nico waves him away. “Relax, Blondie, I got this. Go clean yerself up, yeah?” He tosses the pillows to the floor, pausing briefly to really take in Vash's appearance. “Ya look…frazzled, to put it lightly. Y…ya doin alright?”

That's sweet, Vash thinks. He isn't sure how to answer though. He fiddles with the hem of his shirt and shuffles his feet. He nods and looks off to the side, lightly flinching when another harsh spray of sand hits their window.

Nico doesn't seem convinced but he looks away and goes back to stripping the bed. He tugs the sheet gently, as the threadbare thing might rip with too much force. “Well. Go get yerself cleaned up. We can scrub these come mornin.”

Vash takes a step back, then another, all while keeping his eyes locked onto Nico. He's waiting for the man to flip his lid, to shout or whip his arms around wildly like he normally does when upset. But neither happens. He seems oddly relaxed as he removes the sheets.

Vash ducks into the bathroom and shuts the door. He flicks the light on and sees the miserable sight that gave Nico pause a moment ago. He does look quite frazzled; his eyes, red rimmed and teary, stare wildly back at him. His cheeks are ruddy and splotchy. He feels gross. Nico has seen him for what he truly is; a little kid piloting a body much too big. Looking at himself makes him feel wrong. He's too stretched out, too tall and wide and big. He blinks and forces himself to turn on the faucet.

He starts by washing his hands and thinking about Nico…why does calling him that feel so right? Usually only his little siblings at Hopeland are allowed to use the name.

Vash strips his pants and boxers off. His shirt sustained the least damage so he'll wear that out, as he didn't bring any clothes in with him. He makes quick work of scrubbing himself down. He doesn't want to dawdle, especially when seeing and feeling his body makes him feel weirder about himself. It isn't long before he cracks the door open and waddles out, soiled clothing bundled in his arms. Nico, no, Wolfwood has the bedding piled on the floor and their bedrolls laid out. He sits on the edge of the bare mattress in thought, but snaps out of it when Vash steps back into the bedroom.

They look at each other in quiet, mildly awkward silence. Wolfwood breaks it. “I, uh, figured we could sleep here–” he motions to their bedrolls. “–‘Til mornin. Storm seems to be movin’ on so hopefully tomorrow we can get some proper soap ‘n scrub these down.” He stands and heads to the bathroom, rubbing Vash's shoulder as he passes him. “Go ahead ‘n get comfy, Needles. I won't be long.” He grabs a spare set of pants and shirt and ducks into the bathroom.

Vash nods with a small smile and watches the bathroom door close. The sink faucet turns back on as Wolfwood presumably washes up. Vash slowly breathes in and lets it out.

He's not in trouble, that's good. Or maybe Wolfwood is waiting for him to be in his right mind before that? No, no, that's silly. Wolfwood doesn't wait for things like this. This gentle, sweet demeanor is just who he is.

Vash mentally kicks himself for twisting Nico's intent into something malicious. There's that nickname again, but by now he's too exhausted to fight it. He really wants to sleep, and hopefully now that he's already emptied his bladder he won't have anymore accidents, even if he does have nightmares. He changes into a different pair of boxers and plops onto his bedroll. At that same moment the sink shuts off and Wolfwood comes back into the room.

“Alright Spikey, bedtime!” Nico sounds refreshed. He smiles at Vash.

Vash blinks in confusion. The gentle tone makes him feel fuzzy and warm. He's still little, but it's not cold or hurtful like usual, thanks to Nico.

Nico drops his dirty clothes with the pile of bedsheets and pillows. Vash realizes he's still holding onto his and tosses them in the pile too.

“Not an ideal end to the night but that's alright.” Nico turns the lamp off and slips into his bedroll. Vash follows suit and tucks himself into his bedroll.

Vash now notices how they're pressed much closer than they usually are when they sleep outside. Their hotel room may not be large but there's plenty of space for them to not snuggle through their sleeping bags.

With how close they are, Vash tensely cuddles up to Nico. But Nico doesn't say anything, he lets out a heavy sigh and stays quiet, so Vash lets himself relax. Nico's steady heartbeat lulls him into a cozy reverie. His eyelids are heavy and he's scared more nightmares will greet him once he's asleep, but with Nico here maybe it won't be so bad.

☆Plus One☆

Vash woke up as usual; cranky with pressure behind his eyes, and deep aches in some old wounds. As awareness comes back to him he realizes he's quite comfy. He still feels fuzzy and small, but softer. Warmer, in a nice way he hasn't felt in ages. Comfortable and safe, like Rem. His sluggish brain eventually catches up and remembers the events of last night. Vash shoots up, still tangled in his bedroll, and almost falls over Wolfwood.

He…isnt sure how to feel about last night. Wolfwood saw him for who he is but was kind about it. Wolfwood is a kind man no matter how he tries to appear, that part isn't unknown to Vash. What confuses him is why Wolfwood was nice to him about it. Wolfwood's sleep was disturbed and he was stuck snuggling with a child of a man on a dusty floor. He hardly complained even though he'd have been more than right to yell at Vash.

Despite being jittery and fuzzy still, Vash scoots away from the cozy warmth that is Wolfwood. He can tell it's been a few hours by the growing warmth of the roomn the suns will rise soon. He stumbles over the pile of stained fabrics then walks to the window and peeks out. Distantly he can hear the storm, but sees little sign of it. Only various piles of loose sand it left behind.

Maybe they can leave by afternoon or evening. But for now Vash steps back into the open space of the room. There isn't much to do while he waits for Wolfwood to get up but exercise, so he grabs his gun and blindfold.

He loses himself in the repetitive movements. The strain on his muscles is welcome and familiar in a way. He's been at it for a while; tossing a bullet balanced on the barrel of his gun when the sound of shuffling reaches him.

“Wolfwood?” Vash calls out, having sensed the man moving about the room and now heading for the hotel door. “You can open the window if I smell that bad.” He jokes.

The sandstorm still rages on the other side of the city, but it has long since passed their hotel. While going out isn't advised, it's not as dangerous now. He hears Wolfwood’s steps falter and stop.

“It ain't yer stink, Blondie, just got a few errands to run.” Wolfwood motions to the pile of soiled laundry. “Gotta get some detergent an’ the like.” He opens the door and half steps out before calling behind his shoulder. “I’ll be back soon.”

The door shuts and Vash is left alone in the room. It isn't unusual for them to run errands separately, so Vash nods to no one and goes back to exercising. If Wolfwood wanted him to know, he would hopefully tell him.

——

Turns out it only took a couple hours. Vash had been sitting on the floor to dismantle and clean his gun when Wolfwood entered the room with a hefty paper bag in his arms.

“Spikey, bring them sheets to the bathroom will ya?”

Vash hums in acknowledgement and wipes his oil-slicked fingers on his shirt. “What all did you get? Seems to be more than soap.” He questions, grabbing the pile and heading to the bathroom. From there he sees Wolfwood smile sheepishly and wave him off.

“Nothin to worry about, Spikey.” He takes the small container of power detergent from the bag and leaves the bag half hidden behind Punisher. “Inkeeper said for now to flip the mattress over. An’ tomorrow when we leave we'll have to pay for that too.” Wolfwood grimaces at that.

“Ah, right…” Vash mumbles. “Sorry about that, again.” Wolfwood, now in front of him, flicks his forehead. “Ack! Hey, what was that for?”

“Yer gettin’ all in yer head again. It ain't a problem. Well, it is, but we'll work on that tonight.” Wolfwood grins and walks past him to turn the bathtub faucet on. “Besides, if we both scrub startin’ now, everything should be clean by the time we need it.” He sprinkles some detergent into the slightly water-filled basin. “So less blubbering an’ more washin.”

At Wolfwood's beckon, Vash first drops the sheet into the tub and kneels at the edge. Wolfwood kneels beside him and they get to work.

With everything clean and dry it's time for them to get clean. Wolfwood insists Vash go first, and that he'll have something for him right after. Something to help with his ‘little problem.’ He really doesn't like the sound of that, but not much he can do about it.

—–

It doesn't take long to figure out exactly what Wolfwood had in mind.

Vash stares down at the folded cloth on the sink Wolfwood left alongside a change of clothes. It's soft and plush, padded with white fabric, and crinkly. It's a diaper. Large enough for someone of his size. Sitting atop his now-clean sweat pants and shirt. Where did Wolfwood even get this?

Vash flushes bright red as he unfolds it. He hasn't worn one since he was a baby, and that didn't last long as he outgrew them in just a month. He's almost insulted to be faced with such an obvious sign of his misgivings.

But…Wolfwood's doubts in his abilities aren't unfounded, last night is proof enough Vash needs the extra help. But he just…doesnt want to. He worries his bottom lip as unease churns in his gut. Does Wolfwood think so little of him..? No, no, he's just trying to help.

Vash whines to himself, feeling the fuzzy fog of little space encroaching. It tingles like static over his brain just upon seeing the offending item. As much as he wants to reject it, part of him wants to latch onto the safety it brings. He doesn't remember the short time he wore them as a baby, he never really got to be this young.

Vash sits the diaper back down on the counter. With his towel still wrapped around his waist he cracks open the door.

“Wolfwood…”

“Hm?” Wolfwood's head pops up from where he'd been laying in bed. He glances down at Vash's still-naked form with a slight frown.

“What, uh, what is this?” Vash asks. He doesn't need to hold it up for Wolfwood to know what he's talking about.

“Don't play dumb, Needle-Noggin. Put it on.”

“I'm not a kid, I don't need–” Vash sputters, unwilling to say the word. “–This!”

“Yeah? Well I ain't lettin ya soil the other side of the mattress.” Wolfwood fusses, murmuring the next part. “Or yerself for that matter.”

Vash opens his mouth but Wolfwood waves him off before he can start.

“Ya been havin’ accidents, right? Beyond last night, I mean.”

And there it is. Exactly what hed been trying to hide from his companion for a while now. Even last night they never really talked about what happened, but now they are.

Vash, despite the soft fuzz saying that Nico is safe, tries to play dumb. “Whaat? That's silly, what do you mea–”

“Pissin’ yerself. Wettin’ the bed. Whatever ya wanna call it.” Wolfwood deadpans. He seems unbothered which confuses Vash more. Why isn't he yelling or frustrated?

Vash half hides behind the bathroom door and casts his gaze downward. He must visibly wilt, as Wolfwood's tone turns soft and he sits up properly. “There ain't no shame in it, Vash. Especially if it'll stop future embarrassment and cleaning.”

He has a point. The padded fabric is designed to hold any mess Vash could make, consciously or not. Vash doesn't see a way out of this. Besides, waking up to another wet spot and an even higher fee tomorrow would upset them both. It's fine. It's just for now. Hopefully after the Big Fall anniversary passes he won't need them.

A small part of his brain whispers to cherish this moment. To enjoy the brief reprieve and relaxation this item could bring. He sighs and relents, about to close the door when Wolfwood calls out to him.

“Ya want help putting it on?” For a teasing question Wolfwood sounds oddly sincere.

Vash turns bright red. “No-! Ahem, no, thank you.” He quickly shuts the door and gazes at the diaper. If he's going to wear it he'd rather do it in relative privacy.

Vash slowly takes in a breath and lets his towel fall from his hips. Okay, he can do this. He grabs the diaper and tries to open it slowly, the crinkling is loud in the quiet bathroom though, making it all the more obvious. Wolfwood can probably hear it from the bedroom too.

He sighs and bites the bullet; completely opening the garment and wrapping it around himself. It takes his small mind a bit to get it situated right and hold it in place so he can tape the sides down. Maybe he should've had Nico help after all…no! He's bothered the man enough, this is the least he can do.

Vash grumbles and fusses with the diaper for a while longer, before getting it on. It feels like a weight has been lifted once it's snugly taped down. The haze of his mind thickens, he feels safer and swaddled. Was this how it felt back then? This…comforting?

The padded fabric cushions his rear, the crinkling bits around his hips and thighs aren't as rough on his skin as he thought they'd be. Something warm bubbles in his chest and he cracks a small smile. He manages to squirm into his sweatpants and shirt after and creeps back out of the bathroom.

Nico lay reclined in bed again gnawing the filter of an unlit cigarette. He looks over at Vash with a quirked brow.

“It's on, Nico.” Vash murmurs. If Wolfwood is shocked at the use of his nickname he doesn't make it known.

“Yeah?”

Vash fiddles with the hem of his shirt and looks off to the side. “Mhm..’m still pretty sure I don't need this." His tongue feels heavy and his mind syrupy, but there's no terror or panic like usual when he's little.

“Well just give it a shot for now. If ya really don't like it we can figure something else out.” Nico spits the cigarette out. “But that'll be after we get outta here.”

Nico asked so sweetly Vash wanted to immediately fold. He still has some doubts though. He sits on the edge of the bed next to Nico.

“Isn't it…silly? For me to wear this.” Vash curls in on himself. “I'm not really a kid. I shouldn't need these, right?”

Wolfwood hums thoughtfully before responding. “Frankly I don't think it matters who needs one or for why. 'S natural, Spikey; we all piss and shit.” He ruffles Vash's limp hair. “Don't matter if yer on the toilet or not, as long as ya stay clean. But if it really bothers ya, then we'll keep it between us.” Nico smiles and holds out his pinky. “Big brother Nico is really good at keeping secrets!”

Vash looks at him with shining eyes. Nico is always so unbothered by most things. “Are you sure it's okay..?” He tentatively outstretches his pinkie.

Nico nods and clasps their pinkies together, sealing their promise.

Vash giggles and something in him finally settles. This reminds him of simpler times in his younger years, making silly promises with Rem and Knives before it all ended.

“Don't worry about it, Angel.” Nico rubs Vash's lower back and he melts into the touch. Vash leans his head on Nico's shoulder, seeking the warm comfort. “Hang on. Don't get comfy yet I still gotta shower.”

Vash whines and clings onto Nico's crumpled dress shirt. Nico should stay with him, they can just lay around and fall asleep, and maybe with how cozy he is he won't have nightmares. And if he does Nico will keep him safe from the terrors of his mind.

“Nicooo..” Vash slumps his upper weight onto the man who lightly grunts and sighs. Firm, strong hands wrap around his back, patting and rubbing soothingly.

“Yer just a big baby aint’cha.” Nico says. Vash whimpers and tries to pull back, but Nico holds him tighter. “That ain't a bad thing. I took care of plenty of kids y'know. Some need more comfort than others.” Nico guides Vash's head into the crook of his neck. “Yer like my youngest siblings back at Hopeland, that's all.”

Oh, that's sweet. Vash smiles and burrows into Nico's neck with a content sigh. He's just another kid afterall, and Nico is sweet to children. He can't find it in him to be embarrassed at the treatment.

Nico holds him for a while, lulls him into a serene daze. Eventually Nico lays him onto the bed and slips out of his grasp. Vash can barely whine before Nico shushes him, saying he won't be long. He hears Nico enter the bathroom and close the door, shortly after the shower kicks on.

Vash fades in and out of consciousness as he lays there. He pulls a pillow to his chest and curls around it. Part of him wonders why he fought it so long, why he put up so much resistance. But another part, the quieter but bigger side, insists he not get used to this. That this type of comfort can and has been ripped away all too soon. He squashes the pillow over his ears, trying to drown out the thoughts. It doesn't matter now! Leave that for big Vash to deal with later with Wolfwood, because right now he's spending time with Nico.

Vash hugs the pillow again and rolls onto his other side, delighting in the light crinkling of his diaper. It's so comfy! He chuckles to himself and wiggles a little just to hear it again.

“Ya seem to be enjoyin’ yerself, huh?”

Vash freezes. When did Nico get back? The man now wears a freshly cleaned shirt and pants.

Nico sinks into bed next to Vash and pinches his cheek. “Nico..” Vash giggles and hides his face in the pillow. With his arms up, Nico's fingers skate along his scarred belly, drawing laughter from him. Nico chuckles quietly too and tickles Vash a bit longer until he's gasping for air.

“Alright, Angel." Nico pulls back from Vash, who trembles with the last shocks of ticklish feelings and laughter bubbling out. “Think it's time for us to get some sleep.” He tugs the pillow away from Vash and puts it at the head of the bed. He pulls the cover back and nudges Vash to get him to climb underneath. He slips under the blanket himself and pulls Vash close.

Vash snuggles closer to him, tucking his head on Nico's chest and listening to his steady heartbeat. Steady…that's a good way to describe Nico. Even in the middle of dangerous shootouts he's a steady presence at Vash's side.

Vash sighs in contentment and lets himself drift off. The heavy, warm feel of Nico's hands running down his spine soothes him further. The distant rumble of the storm bothers him very little compared to previous nights. He finds himself falling into a more peaceful sleep than he's used to.

They're shooting off from ship five–from their home. Vash pounds on the window crying out for Rem.

Knives is awfully quiet behind him. It doesn't take long for him to start laughing; chuckling under his breath becomes full bellied cackling. He sounds elated at the turn of events. Vash turns to him in shock and fear. How could he laugh when Rem was still on board? When all these innocent people could get hurt or die? Knives yells that they're not innocent, that they thrive off the suffering of their kind, that humans are vermin who must be eradicated. Before Vash can reply, their escape pod starts burning up in the atmosphere, jostling them around dizzingly until things go dark and he passes out.

Vash jolts awake with terror at the edge of his mind. The last he remembers is Knives’ disturbing smirk highlighted by roaring flames and surrounded by crashed ships. He pants and digs his fingers into the pillow, only for it to lightly groan beneath him. His tired mind barely catches on to what's happening before large hands come to wrap around his back.

Someone is shushing him; their voice honeyed and warm, crackly and low like a rumble. Vash sucks in a breath, the imagery of Knives fading and the dim hotel room coming back into view. His eyes flit around the room, taking in the bad wallpaper, the single bed he lays in, the–Wolfwood? Vash unclenches his hands, realizing he was fisting and stretching Wolfwood's dress shirt. Wolfwood groans at having been released and cards a hand through Vash's hair.

“Ev'rythin’ alright, Angel?” Wolfwood's voice is heavy with sleep, his accent coming out thicker than usual.

Vash hums in reply as he takes inventory of his state. He's soaked, or damp, rather, as his mess seems to have dried. He squeezes a hand down between them to pat his crotch which is thankfully dry. So how did he…? ..Right.. He shifts his hips and cringes at the light crinkling. His diaper is cold, wet, and icky, but the rest of him (and the bed, thankfully) is blissfully dry. Wolfwood got him in this, and even though he's mortified to wake up with it on, it kept everything from getting soiled furthermore. Knowing this eases him tremendously.

Vash sits up. The light of the early parent sun illuminates the room slightly. It feels…weird, to sit in his mess. But at least it's not everywhere. He goes to climb out of bed but Wolfwood grabs his wrist to still him. He cracks his eyes open to look at Vash.

"How'd ya hold up?"

Vash flushes. This still feels odd to talk about when he isn't small. He doesn't feel big either though, but it's about time he starts his morning routine so he'll lean into his adult headspace.

"Good. Fine, I think. I'm just gonna.." He pauses. "Take care of this."

Wolfwood nods and lets him go. Vash shuffles to the bathroom and locks himself in.

He flips the switch on and is washed in dingy orange light. Outwardly he looks fine. No one aside from them knows what he wears underneath. He stands a little straighter at that. It's…fine. Wolfwood himself said it was fine. The man wouldn't have encouraged this if he didn't think it was okay.

Vash sighs and collects himself. He's awake now so he doesn't need to change into a new one, he just needs to take it off. He pulls his sweatpants down and steps out of them. He braces himself; all he has to do is take it off, fold it up, and toss it away.

…But is it really that easy?

Vash readies himself and untapes the folds of the diaper. He pulls it off himself, folds it back up and chucks it in the trash can. Its done with.

...It really is that easy.

He's clean. The bed is dry. There's no lingering embarrassment or shame after another nightmare. A bright feeling blooms within him. Now he's glad Wolfwood has a whole box of them.

He washes his hands and steps out of the bathroom, ready to start his exercises. Wolfwood sits up in bed rubbing his eyes.

“All good?” Wolfwood asks.

Vash contemplates things; how they got there, how he fought his headspace for so long just to be welcomed with open arms by Wolfwood. How his bladder control doesn't have to be a source of shame. He smiles, bright and genuine.

“Yep! All good.”

~~~

End Note: I feel like the point of this one got away from me but I dunno. Let me know if I lost the plot haha

Everyone needs a wolfwood telling them padded agere is not cringe/gross/bad. Today, that is me, I'm your wolfwood. Also one thing I love is Vash only calling him ‘Nico’ when he’s little

#fandom agere #sfw #trigun agere #agere #⭐️ writes #little vash the stampede #cg nicholas d wolfwood

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