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Vash had been living a comfortable life in his little home with his partner Nicholas for the better part of three years. Things had been almost perfect, though not in the literal sense of the word. They still fussed, they still argued, and sometimes feelings were hurt—but they worked through it, they communicated. Vash had never felt so seen and heard in his entire life, and he could never thank Wolfwood enough for that.
He was attentive, ever the caring man that those close to him saw him as. In private, he was ever more a steward than he was in public, and willingly. He cooked dinners for them, cleaned up the house, and took care of the mundane so that Vash could rest when he wasn’t tending to his flower shop. The blond had protested at first, disliking the thought of Nick taking on the house chores alone, but as time ticked on—he was grateful for all of the things he could get done, and how well he could relax, without having to worry about the more domestic tasks.
“Besides, I have Liv to help me at the bookstore. You run that ship by yourself over there, let me take care of you for once, stubborn ass.”
Not having to fret over whether or not Nicholas felt neglected by Vash focusing on his career where he could was reassuring. Welcome. They always found proper time for each other regardless, spending evenings watching videos or movies, or even just doing something as mundane as reading in silence together. They had found some semblance of balance despite the occasional anxiety that Vash would still express about not taking on his fair share of duties.
Nicholas always assured him it was his way of showing appreciation–showing love, to offer those acts of service. Vash fully believed him, especially now with how much time they’d been together. So he relented his grievances, and let Wolfwood carry out his ‘domestic malewife duties’ as he referred to them jokingly one day.
There were times when Vash started doing things as a distraction, moving from one chore to the next in order to occupy his troubled mind. He’d work his body to the limit in an attempt to chase away the ever pressing dysphoria that creeped up the back of his neck and settled into the gray matter of his brain. It was always the same situation, the same thoughts bouncing around in his skill. An unsettling feeling of dread, and a lack of belonging in his own skin despite desperately trying to do so. The face in the mirror was always too soft around the lips, doe-y around the eyes to him—even if he passed as well as any natural born man.
“You’re a handsome guy, Vash. You make any outfit look good.” A disarming smile and warm hands gripping both of Vash’s shoulders with a comforting force. It made him blush, but he believed those words from his lover.
Nicholas made him feel safe, made him feel validated.
But some days—like today, those loud ever-present thoughts were far more difficult to ignore.
Vash padded quietly across the living room floor in stocking feet, holding one of his hands against his stomach and frowning. He could feel that uncomfortable pressure and cramping below his navel, curling his fingers tightly into the fabric of his jumper until the joints of his flesh and blood hand creaked with effort. Ever since he’d started taking testosterone, this hadn’t been a particular issue for him—but every once in a blue moon it would creep up on him unannounced. Of course he’d get his fucking period now of all times, right before the busy season at his shop.
He wanted to curl up into a ball and sink into the ground. These rare occasions when his birth biology bubbled to the surface, Vash found himself dragging his feet and fighting off memories of the difficult journey that led him here. Nights spent wondering if he’d make it to adulthood. Whether he’d be accepted and loved for the person he was meant to be. He felt irrational, knowing full well hormones were battling inside him in a way that made his mental state so much more fragile, but the mind didn’t tend to listen to itself well.
The logical hemisphere stood miles down the road from the illogical one, and the one spewing venom at Vash about himself was deafeningly loud.
It was the stress, he knew it was. He had been so laser-focused on ensuring his shop was ready for the upcoming busy season he hadn’t taken a break to consider what the countless twelve to fourteen hour work days were doing to his circadian rhythm—let alone the silly chemicals in his body that kept him alive. It could all be chalked up to overworking and exhaustion.
But it didn’t make it suck any less, it didn’t detract from the way it made feelings of wrongness settle between his ribs. He had always battled against pulling free from the body he once had, making a new one that fit for him and felt like home. This was a monkey wrench in his mental progress, sending him back to the times when he was in school—getting picked on for being different. Taking him back to those nights he spent curled up in his own bed, clutching a pair of fabric sheers he’d used to slice off his long hair with tears streaming down his cheeks. It reminded him of all the times he’d stared into oblivion, considering putting an end to his journey just so he could be at peace with himself for once.
It made him feel sick to his stomach; shaky and unsteady.
So he tried not to think about it. Even as he picked up sanitary products from the store with a tight lipped smile to the cashier.
“Oh, are these for your girlfriend?”
He could see the question in her eyes, the confusion—which should have made him feel better, but instead it made him feel worse. You aren’t supposed to have to deal with things like this, Vash. Born in the wrong body. His thoughts were droning cicadas on a summer day; incessant.
He did chores around the house, mumbling to Nick that he was just worked up. Anxious about his upcoming busy season.
Vash wanted to be alone. To isolate. He’d told his partner as much when he’d locked himself in their shared bedroom, curled up in their bed as heat prickled at his temples and a strange tingling set into his fingertips. He’d cried into the pillowcase at least four times, and he was getting fed up. He didn’t want his partner to have to deal with him like this.
I’m fine. Became a mantra to Vash, hoping if he told himself that enough, he’d believe it. That Nicholas would believe it.
But the other man knew him better than that, and Vash knew his partner wasn’t convinced by the way those dark eyes fixed on his side profile as they ate dinner. The way Nicholas held him extra tight when they laid next to each other in bed at night.
He was ever patient, waiting for Vash to come to him about it after every assurance that sounded a bit raw around the edges.
The blond wanted to be strong.
He tried to be.
He managed fighting himself for two and a half days, the second day of his cycle hitting him like a runaway train. His stomach was cramping so badly he had tears in his eyes, and his muscles ached down to the tiniest of fibers so each shift sent a renewed bloom of discomfort through him. He was curled up on his side, blanket draped over his waist and a pillow from their shared bed folded in half underneath his neck. Vash was watching something that he’d long since forgotten the topic of, the dialogue in whatever program he’d picked falling into background noise as he stared through the television instead of at it. He vaguely heard the jingle of keys, and the door being pushed open as Wolfwood returned home from work.
“I’m home, Spikey!” The warmth that his partner called for him usually melted his soured moods, but today wasn’t a normal bad day. Vash gave a noncommittal grunt from where he lay on the couch in response.
He felt even more awful because he’d been hiding the fact he’d gotten his period from Nicholas. He made sure to tuck away sanitary product wrappers, put the boxes in his nightstand. It felt foolish—trying to hide such a natural part of his life, but it bothered him. Vash was certain his partner didn’t mind, he would have even offered to help him and dote on him extra hard if he knew. The blond just didn’t know if he could handle that kind of attention right now, not with how torn up he was. He hated crying in front of people, even Nicholas. He was someone moved to tears easily, but that didn’t mean he necessarily liked showing that vulnerability to people. It was a hard thing to do, especially when he was so used to hiding his upsets from those around him.
He heard Nick’s somewhat heavy footfalls from behind him, heard the ruffle of fabrics as he leaned over the back cushions of the couch to look at Vash’s face. The man wore his usual lopsided smile, unlit cigarette tucked behind one of his ears. The expression faltered briefly when he finally laid eyes on the blond—and Vash felt a wave of nausea take over him.
I’m disgusting. He thought to himself.
The backs of Nicholas’s knuckles slid gently across the skin of his partner’s cheek, voice dropping to a sofer tone reserved for these particularly bad days.
“You look like you’re in pain,” he murmured, brows knit together in concern. “What’s wrong? And don’t tell me you’re fine. You’re not. Is it your arm? Scars giving you trouble?” His tone was scolding, but in a fond, gentle way that the blond had grown accustomed to over the last few years. There was no demand behind those words. Just worry. Care.
Vash snapped his eyes forward as more tears formed along his lower lashes, vaguely aware of his partner moving around the couch and crouching in front of him, broad form taking up most of his vision. The blond curled up a bit tighter, tilting his chin towards his chest so that he could maybe hide his splotchy face. Wolfwood never let him, though—not when he was this upset. He felt so small, insignificant. He knew if he explained that to his partner that the man would most likely feel responsible somehow. Upset at himself for not noticing the pain Vash was trying very hard to hide, as if he was supposed to be able to read his mind.
He tensed slightly at the feeling of a calloused palm against his cheek, sliding backwards to brush over his ear as the fingers of that hand found their way into Vash’s hair. Nick’s thumb smoothed against his temple, the warmth of his touch welcomed even if it felt like too much.
“I’m just… dealing with a lot, s’all.”
“Dealing with what, Vash? I know you like to go it alone when you can—and I respect that, but I’d like to be there for you if I can.” Another smooth pass of Nicholas’s thumb, brushing the edge of his eyebrow and pressing in just enough to soothe the thumping against his temples.
“It’s…” Vash struggled to find the words, closing his eyes to block out everything around him. “I think stress threw off my hormones, it’s such a silly thing, really…”
Wolfwood hummed in response, eyes searching the blond’s face before he leaned forward to press a featherlight kiss against the space above his eyebrow.
“I understand, I should have noticed,” His voice was soft as he sat back, still casually stroking his fingers through Vash’s hair. “How about this; I’ll make us dinner, I picked up the stuff to make that soup you like. You can take a nice bath while you wait, or I can set up the shower chair. Once we get you fed, and all cozy, I’ll get you set up with the heating pad and make a run to the corner store for something sweet.”
“Then we can sit on the couch and watch something cheesy…?” Vash asked in a soft voice.
“Yes. Anything you want, mi cielo.”
“You’re being extra sweet to me.” Vash commented, a small and playful smile tugging at the corners of his lips.
“Mmm. And so what if I am? I’m allowed to spoil you sometimes!”
Nick’s laugh always sounded so genuine, like it came from somewhere deep in his gut, pulled out from those soft and happy parts of him. Vash loved that laugh more than he’d ever fully admit out loud. It grounded him, calmed him. It was downright infectious.
“Sometimes?! You spoil me all the time, Nick. You’ll turn me rotten.” The blond countered, leaning his head into the pillow underneath him. He kept his gaze on his partner, hoping the mischievous glint in his own eyes shone through.
“Ha ha. You already are…! And it’s entirely my fault.”
Vash turned his face more into the pillow he was resting on, laughing, though it was a wet sound—broken up by an unexpected sob. He felt the hand that had been on his face shift to his shoulder, rubbing soothingly and squeezing.
“In seriousness, are you okay, Vash…?” Nick asked gently, a slight frown evident in his voice. “I joke, but I want to make sure you’re alright. It takes a lot for you to be this upset.”
The blond nodded, not lifting his head just yet for fear he’d start crying again.
“Yes, I’ll be just fine… It just is… difficult to navigate, I think.”
“Well, regardless, I’ll be here no matter what. I hope you know that. Even if I can’t take the hurt away or make it better immediately.” His voice was soft, almost sad at the notion he couldn’t do more. Wolfwood always had more love to give than what could fit in his body, Vash always told him that’s why he was so tactile and warm. Love radiated off of him like waves, washing over anyone caught in his orbit—poured out of him like flames from a campfire.
The blond smiled, soft, hidden by the pillow his face was tucked away in.
“I know, Nick. Thank you.”
Vash heard the creak and pop of one of Nicholas’s knees as he stood, felt the warmth of his hand leave him. It all was so painfully human to be surrounded by affection and humor and companionship. Reminders that the good in the world was within reaching distance for everyone, no matter their own thoughts otherwise. No matter how much Vash had once thought otherwise.
A breath of silence passed between them before Wolfwood’s footsteps retreated back into their entryway. He heard the man methodically unlacing his boots, taking in the soft thunk that sounded when each one landed in their proper space by the door.
Nick’s movements back to the side of the couch close to Vash’s head were more quiet, socks on carpet. The tender affection from before returned in the form of fingers stroking through his hair.
“Have you decided between a bath or a shower?” A soft question, voice full of affection in a way that made Vash’s heart swell.
“A shower, I think. I don’t want to fall asleep in the bath again.”
“I think that’s a wise choice. Let’s get you up then, and into the shower.”
Vash finally lifted his head from the pillow he’d been burying it in, looking up at Nicholas with red rimmed eyes and a somewhat wobbly smile. The blond sat up, groaning at the pain in his lower back and abdomen. His head swam from the sudden shift, and Nicholas lifted his free hand to steady Vash.
“Woah. Take it slower… It's okay. We’re in no rush. I’m all yours from now til Monday morning, no work this weekend.” Nick offered a lopsided grin, and the blond very suddenly found himself wanting to kiss it off of his partner’s lips.
He leaned forward slightly, raising his brows expectantly at Wolfwood. It was a bit funny to see him blink down at Vash in brief confusion, knowing the blond was going to ask for something but couldn’t place what just yet.
The blond never asked for a kiss like a normal person, not that he’d ever want to. No—he lifted his head, closed his eyes, and offered a soft huff through his nostrils. Nick’s reactions were always too sweet not to give him a bit of guesswork with his requests. He heard the other man chuckle, lips pressed to his own without much preamble. Vash couldn’t help the small smile that tugged at the corners of his mouth.
The first time he’d done that, Nicholas had rolled his eyes, though Vash knew it was because the other man thought it was cute. He often used those powers to get away with mischief, or get exactly what he wanted; even if Wolfwood would give it to him anyway. Their song and dance of give and take, it was precious to the blond in a way he couldn’t quite place. He didn’t feel he needed to, either. He had grown to realize love was a feeling, and not all feelings had to have words or explanations attached to them.
The evening passed slowly, with Vash showering and dressing in one of Nick’s comfortable sweaters while his partner cooked in the kitchen. It was a little big on him, but that’s what made it perfect. The fabric was soft, and embedded with that spiced scent that was so uniquely Wolfwood.
They ate dinner together, smiling with each other and talking about the more fleshy things in life. The weather. Plans for the following week. Anniversary plans in the next few months. It grounded Vash in a way that made it easier for him to tune out that dark part of his brain. The evening was shaping up better than he could have hoped for, even being able to keep himself composed when Nicholas ran to the corner store for dessert and he was left alone. The heating pad tucked against his gut helped to melt away his insecurities, despite that gnawing upset still weakly present at the base of his skull.
They ate ice cream on the couch, watching some silly romantic comedy they’d seen a million times. A comfort movie shared between the two of them. A guilty pleasure, they’d called it. The glow of the TV in their dimly lit living room was comforting, a constant buzz of familiar light flickering over them.
Television.
Sweets.
Nicholas.
All things Vash loved.
He turned his head to his partner, lips quirking up slightly in amusement when he saw the other man fighting to stay awake—his eyelids drooping and chin dipping towards his chest. The blond watched wordlessly, listening to the sharp intake of breath as Nick jerked his head back upright and tried to blink tiredness from his eyes. He reached out after the second time watching the other man fight sleep, gently squeezing one of the arms crossed over his broad chest.
“Would you like to lay down, Nick?” Vash kept his voice soft, brows slightly raised.
"Estoy-, estoy despierto, no te preocupes, mi amor."
The mumbled reply was endearing in its own way. Vash couldn’t help the soft laugh that left his lips.
“I think we should lay down.” Vash laughed, leaning forward to press a kiss to his lover’s temple. “Come on. That way you can brush your teeth, and get changed.”
“I’m supposed to be taking care of you.” He could hear the pout in Nick’s voice when he spoke.
Cute.
“And you have taken very good care of me, you always do. But if you’re falling asleep on the couch, you’ll wake up stiff. I’d much rather us lay down and get comfortable.”
Wolfwood gave an adorable grumble in response, slowly getting to his feet. He helped Vash stand, but let him walk on his own to their shared room. They breezed through their nightly routines, and within minutes were lying side by side. Vash turned over, facing Nicholas and tracing the backs of his fingers against the curvature of his lover’s jaw. His partner turned into the touch, giving a soft ‘hm?’ before Vash craned his neck enough to give Nick a kiss. It tasted like cinnamon toothpaste, and home.
His partner turned onto his side, bringing Vash in against his chest. One of his partner’s hands cradled the back of his head, and the blond turned to press his cheek against the fabric of Wolfwood’s t-shirt. The palm against his hair slowly relaxed, and he could hear the steadiness of soft exhales telling him that the other man had drifted off to sleep. He could feel the bodily warmth rolling off of his lover, sinking into it, looping one of his arms around Nick’s waist and resting his fingers somewhere against his back. He traced idle patterns there, blinking slowly as that sluggish pre-sleep took hold of him.
He was lost in his thoughts, overwhelmed by the condition of simply being as he slowly drifted to unconsciousness—realizing that no matter how much it pained him, he had come so far on his journey. He had found a happy ending of sorts, right in that little house with Wolfwood. His peace was nestled in the space between steady heartbeats underneath his ear, and the soft breathing of the man he was cuddled up to. He was exactly who he was meant to be, and with who he was meant to be. The second half to his whole, who was there with him no matter what.
He had found what it meant to love, and to be loved.