I know what you're thinking. "Aaah wtf, is this lady ever gonna get over Trigun?"
Lol nope
Here we have dear Nicholas with a stuck snz. Both men are drunk and Vash offers a helping hand.
I'm so dissatisfied with this fic. It feels klunky and not of my usual caliber (whatever that is). I don't see it going anywhere else, though. As though I'm not gonna go in and do 10,000 edits over time. 😂
m!snz, m/m v@shwood, no mess. Swearing cus my Nic has a dirty mouth. Honestly I feel like there aren't many warnings to put here? Weird.
Nicholas Wolfwood was so ready to be done with the day.
He had been attempting to grind this itch in his nose to submission since he first woke up this morning. Whatever was up there, though, was stuck good- sharp and irritating and just out of reach.
In his moments alone Nic tried his usual tactics. He squinted toward the suns, which left him looking like a goon with his mouth hanging open. He massaged and tickled and flicked and blew his nose till his fuckin’ brains threatened to spill out and yet the irritation stayed where it was, grounded.
They landed in town earlier than expected and made a beeline to the bar. Vash was in one of his more social moods; he lingered amongst the patrons, chatting and laughing. Wolfwood watched him from his perch, twisting his whiskey glass as it sweat on the pockholed counter.
Stampede was a master at subtlety. There seemed to be this imaginary barrier between himself and other people that he always felt compelled to maintain; touches were tolerated for a few moments before he would casually shift away. His smile almost never wavered, wide and endearing and carefully molded to cover the sharp tips of his canines. The warm friendliness of his tone soothed any thoughts of rejection these strangers may have. He laughed easily. He was clumsy and goofy and charming and all of it together masked his aloofness well.
Nicholas shifted his attention to his surroundings, eyes sweeping the crowd for anything suspicious as he brought his glass back to his lips. The remaining half of his drink was emptied in one swallow, head tilted back to let gravity aide him. He caught the bartender’s eye and motioned for a third.
Irritation spiked on the left side of his sinuses for the umpteenth time that day, his nose twitching in protest. He growled as he scrubbed at himself with a wrist. This whole ordeal had gotten old hours ago and he was to the point that if a sneeze came he’d welcome it, wouldn’t care how many people’s eardrums he blew out if he could just get some fuckin’ relief.
He brought his glass to the counter for another pour. Reaching in to his jacket he pulled out a few double dollars and motioned to Vash.
“How much does my friend there have on his tab?”
The bartender glanced at the small group laughing at the end of her bar. “Already accounted for.”
Really? Nic looked to Vash again. Apparently he was in the middle of telling some story, flushed and giggling and tripping over his words. The people around him were laughing at his antics. Huh. Nic was happy to leave him to socialize, long as he managed to keep the bullshit under control. Vash loved people more than they deserved, and too often that blew up in his face.
“Closin’ out then?”
---
The whiskey wasn’t terrible for the price and he ended up pyrchasimg a bottle. He polished off his third drink quickly and hefted Punisher from her resting place beside him.
The air outside was blessedly clear of the stale smell of so many working-class bodies and he inhaled appreciatively. The itch in his sinuses roused at the temperature change and Nico sniffed sharply to encourage it as he cleared the last few steps on to the road.
He didn’t get far before he finally seemed to get somewhere- his nose twitched in warning just before the tingle blazed to life, distracting him to the point where he slowed to a halt.
“Hheh, h-hheh…” he lifted the hand with the whiskey bottle toward his face, pressing the tip of his nose lightly with the back of his wrist. Amber liquid sloshed gently as his hitching deepened and he had just enough forethought to grasp the neck of the bottle a little tighter because he was finally going to-
The bar door slammed open, and a familiar spindly figure in red tumbled out. Catching sight of his friend, he stumbled down the stairs in pursuit, nearly falling to his face in the dusty road.
“Nico! Wait ‘fr me!”
Nic expelled his breath in an irritated sigh and lowered his arm down to his side. He waited as the familiar sound of Vash’s trudging gait came closer.
“’s wrong?”
“Nothin’.”
“When someone says nothin it’s usually somethin’,” Vash slurred, a metal finger klink-ing as it tapped the glass of Nic’s whiskey.
Nic snatched it away, holding it protectively to his chest. “Careful. I’m not above feeding ya back your own advice.”
Evidently that was the funniest thing Vash had ever heard. Nic waited almost a full minute before losing his patience; he bent to hook an arm through his friends', hauling him to his feet.
“Wow," Nic grunted, "you are cocked, huh?”
“Naww, I’m fiine.”
“Whatever you say, man.”
---
“You’re a sneezy guy today,” Vash observed mildly from the couch.
Nic snorted and shot a look toward the gangly blonde. "You're not asleep yet?"
Vash sucked his teeth. Sighing through his nose, Nic lifted his glass to his lips. He preferred rocks with his liquor, but those weren’t readily available in a hotel like this.
Much to his annoyance, the soothing warmth of the liquor was only teasing whatever tickly spot had been plaguing him all day. He scrubbed at his nose for the umpteenth time, groaning a bit as he attempted to squish the itch in to submission.
Vash was watching him intently now, and to cover the sudden rush of self-consciousness Nic snapped, “what?”
“Did’ja try lookin’ at the light?”
Nic turned away with a scoff. Only about 75 times. He ignored the creak of the loveseat behind him as he re-focused out the window.
“Want some help?”
“What are you, some kind of world expert?”
“Uhh, yeah kinda. A little.” A small, embarrassed chuckle. “I mean you’ve been traveling with me long enough to see for yourself, so...”
Couldn’t argue with that one. Nic made a flippant gesture to the air above him, leaving Vash to interpret it as he will. Stampede was moving around the room; there was the creak of wood as he shifted something heavy.
“Got it!” He moved in to Nicholas’ line of vision, proudly brandishing his chosen weapon. Nic scowled.
“A Bible? Really?”
“Yep! Wait, no. Just-“ Vash floundered for words, ending with an exasperated groan. “Just c’mere!”
Nic lurched to his feet with a put-upon sigh. It took a moment for his legs to work properly. Woah. He glanced at the bottle, shrugged, and took another swig.
Plopping down next to Vash, he turned to face him. The springs creaked in complaint of their combined weight as he stretched his arms out in challange.
“Do your worst.”
Vash lifted the book, blowing hard on it’s cover to release a fine plume of dust. The motes danced in the air between them and Nicholas jerked back, hacking as they irritated his throat.
But then the itch in his nose stirred, and the coughing fit tapered off in to some promising hitchy breaths. Nic reared his head, the back of his hand hovering near the tip of his nose as the sneeze built closer, and closer to-
…nothing. He deflated with a groan. Damn it all.
“Man,” Vash said sympathetically, “that was close.”
Nic only snuffled in response. He wiped his eyes with the back of his hand and almost missed the moment that Vash's features slackened with a very familiar expression.
Nico stared at him incredulously. “You’ve got to be shitting me.”
“Hh-huh?" Wriggling his nose, Vash sniffed dryly and seemed to finally notice what was happening. Grimacing, he shoved a finger under his nose.
Nic gave him a sour look which sent Vash shrinking in to himself. There was a wetness gathering at the corners of his eyes and he sniffled, pert little nose twitching dangerously. With a strangled sound Vash moved his hand to pinch his nostrils between his fingers.
“Blondie.”
“M’good!” The false cheer was laced with a nasal quality.
“Blondie.”
“N-no really, I c… c’haaah… snff. It’ll pass!”
It wouldn’t; Wolfwood had witnessed his attempts to hold back sneezes in the past and those had been when Vash was sober.
“Just let go before ya hurt yourself.” He let Vash stutter over some nonsense for a moment before waving him off. “You can’t help it. It’s fine.”
This time, Vash did let go, squinting at him through gathering tears. His nose, which had turned pale from being pinched hard, flushed pink. “I’m s..sorheeh…”
He tilted his spiky head back, nostrils trembling in rebellion against their least favorite irritant. Nic murmured a curse and moved out of the line of fire, swiping at his own nose jealously.
The sneeze teased Vash right up to the ledge and held him there, frozen with his top lip curled back over his teeth. Nic sighed and braced himself; there were Vash's normal, kittenish variety, and then there were-
“Hhih-iih? H’RISZ-shiew!! IHH'zhew!”
…His dust sneezes. Just as pitchy, but with a lot more force. And volume.
“Iiih--! Hh. Hh'IIIH- ...Udd, man,” he scrubbed his nose with the back of a wrist, making little grunting noises that were very Vash, “uh-oh. Uhh, haah… damn, what the hell!”
Nic couldn’t help it- he burst in to laughter. Vash glared at him through a film of tears, mouth twitching up before he forced his expression back in to a frown.
“Don’t make fun a’ me!”
“Aaah… I’m sorry, Spikey.” Nic took a swig from the bottle and beckoned Vash closer. “C’mere.”
“I might sneeze,” Vash warned, but scooted closer as instructed. Nic took his chin in his hand, rubbing the calloused pad of his thumb just under his birthmark.
“Oh, the poor thing,” he tutted, pitching his voice low. Vash went scarlet from the tips of his ears down to his chest. God, his reaction to this kind of teasing was just too good to resist. “Tryin’ t’help me out and ended up stuck yourself.”
Vash made as if to pull away, but stopped in his tracks as Nic brushed the tip of his thumb teasingly up his septum.
“Hhhih--! Nic, that’s… y-you’re gonna-! ‘m gonna- Haaah-”
“That is the idea, yeah.”
“Hhhrnt’shhIEW! Ooh, snff, m’sorry. I… ohhno…”
“Yeah, yeah. Give me the encore already.”
“Ahhkt’shiew!”
“Bless you, douchebag.”
Vash shot him a glare from the crook of his arm. Chuckling, Nicholas reached for the tissues on the bedside table and handed over the box.
“No more dust,” Nic proclaimed over the loud honking that followed. He tossed the book out of sight and swept any remnants off the blanket.
“No more dust,” Vash agreed solemnly, picking up Nic’s whiskey bottle and taking a long swig. He whined in protest when it was snatched from his grasp.
“The fuck you think you’re doing?”
“Collecting my best friend tax!”
“Best friends?” It was Nicholas’ turn to swig from the bottle. “Where's my charm bracelet?”
“Ohmygod. You mean you’d wear one?”
"Hell fuckin no. I have a reputation to keep up."
Vash grumbled with faux irritation and shoved away from his laughing friend. He made as if to get out of bed, but paused mid scootch with a gasp.
“You good there?”
“I know how to do it!”
Before Nic could ask, Vash had leapt from the bed and was scurrying out to the hallway. He was back within minutes.
“En garde!” he cried, brandishing the long, fluffy tail feather of a Tomas at Nic’s nose. The nose-owner in question gave him an unamused look.
“A feather? Really? That’s the brilliant plan?”
“It works, watch!” Stampede fanned the edge of the feather at the tip of his friend’s nose, making little circles with it as he pressed it closer. “Tickle, tickle!”
“Blondie,” Nic wasn’t even trying to keep the exasperation from his voice. He wrinkled his nose. “That only works in cartoons.”
But Vash was determined, tongue poking out in concentration as he leaned closer to observe his technique. He wriggled the smaller, fluffy fronds around and in to Nicholas’ nostrils.
Nic blinked. Hhh-!
...Wait, really?
“Nnnhh! Hhhah? Hhhhaaah—” He moved his hand in a rolling motion, encouraging Vash to move deeper, tickle harder.
“Hhhheh… d-Hhheh-HAH’Tch…” Nope. “Ugh, dammit!”
Vash pouted and reached to offer Nic the tissues. “I was sure that’d work.”
“Told ya, only in stories n’ stuff.”
“Nuh uh.” Vash twirled the feather in his hand, examining it. “People can be allergic to feathers, too. Just like fur.”
Nic made a grab for it but Vash rolled out of reach, clumsily righting himself on the bed.
“Blondie. Y’don’t need t’-“
“Hhhih…” Jesus fucking christ, he’d barely touched the fuckin’ thing to his face. “It’s gonna work, s-see. I’m gonnaah— gonna sneeZIH’het-shiew! Shiew! Nn’chiew!”
“Bl-“
“Iiiiisch-oo! Woah! See?”
“Yes, you're very talented.”
Vash blinked at Nic's tone. He cracked a sheepish grin, swiping the feather behind his back.
It worked; Nic rolled his eyes as he flopped back on his pillow, patting the space beside him.
“C’mere, you nut.”
With a soft, eager sound Vash crawled in next to him. He tucked himself in beneath Nic’s chin. Jaw cracking on a yawn, he settled his ear over Nicholas’s heart.
The room was suddenly quiet save for the sounds of other patrons. A cool breeze drifted through the cracked window, fluttering the sun-bleached floral curtains. It gently rustled Vash’s trademark spikey hair, the soft follicles lifting back to caress the rims of Nicholas’s nostrils. The spicy scent of whatever new soap he’d used followed, nipping at innermost membranes. It was a scent that, now that Nic thought about it, he’d been getting whiffs of all day.
As though on cue the urge to sneeze howled to life.
“What’s—” Vash began to lift his head to look up at him, and in a moment of true desperation Nicholas reached up and pressed his needle noggin back down. The movement had flicked a good piece of hair up, and as Nic sniffed it fluttered teasingly against the inner walls of his nares.
“Fhhuck,” he swore, voice diluted and breathy, “think m’gonnahh-“
Words trailed off as his body wrenched away his control, and Nic panted through several deep breaths.
“Now? Hold on. Not on m-“
“Hhhee’YYESH-zchu! Z’TESH-huee! Haah, h-hhah-“ he needed one more good one. Turning back toward Vash, Nic buried his nose in the mass of blonde spikes, inhaling deeply. The itch boarded on painful, and he released his captive, rolling his head back on the pillow blindly.
“Hhht’ZISHhh! Hh-” Ooh, and a bonus? Drunk and unable to help himself, Nic squirmed, nose scrunched and breath stuttering—
Something soft fanned against his nose, and with a final pitchy breath Nic sneezed hard enough to see stars, his shoulders lifting from the bed.
“Bless you,” Vash murmured, tossing the feather aside with a shake of his wrist. He’d been too close to the detonation zone.
“Jesus fuck,” Nic groaned, so heavy with relief that it made his bedmate chuckle.
“Better?”
“You have no idea.” Then, with sudden and uncharacteristic shyness, “thanks.”
Vash hummed warmly, stretching to press a kiss to Nic’s temple. “Don’t mention it.”