Whatever gap was there, the gulf yawning wide and imposing, is crossed in a single motion, and...if Wolfwood wanted to stop it, he easily could. But he doesn't, because he doesn't want to. More than anything, this is how he wants Vash: close, in his arms, and by his side just like he was always meant to be.
If Vash had shied away from Wolfwood taking his flesh hand, he wouldn't have stopped it. It just felt...wrong, especially right now, to go for the hand that wouldn't be able to feel his touch as directly. And- God- the way Vash just falls apart is enough to break Wolfwood's heart.
And it isn't like he's made of stone. He's been fucking miserable for weeks now, and the closeness is like a soothing balm over a burn. Vash clutches him in a full-on, desperate embrace, and Wolfwood takes a moment to set the bottle aside somewhere it won't spill so he can return it. He has to be careful of his wings, but he manages to find someplace to put his right hand between them while his left reaches up to cradle the back of Vash's head, his fingers carding through the shorter hair there.]
No, you ain't. [He rumbles, pressing his lips to the crown of Vash's head.] S'gonna be okay. Yeah?
[He holds him a little tighter, a little closer. Vash might as well be in his lap, at this point. And as he cries, Wolfwood won't stop him. He'll just hold and let him, especially when he can feel unshed tears welling up in his own eyes, threatening to spill over when he blinks.]
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Whatever gap was there, the gulf yawning wide and imposing, is crossed in a single motion, and...if Wolfwood wanted to stop it, he easily could. But he doesn't, because he doesn't want to. More than anything, this is how he wants Vash: close, in his arms, and by his side just like he was always meant to be.
If Vash had shied away from Wolfwood taking his flesh hand, he wouldn't have stopped it. It just felt...wrong, especially right now, to go for the hand that wouldn't be able to feel his touch as directly. And- God- the way Vash just falls apart is enough to break Wolfwood's heart.
And it isn't like he's made of stone. He's been fucking miserable for weeks now, and the closeness is like a soothing balm over a burn. Vash clutches him in a full-on, desperate embrace, and Wolfwood takes a moment to set the bottle aside somewhere it won't spill so he can return it. He has to be careful of his wings, but he manages to find someplace to put his right hand between them while his left reaches up to cradle the back of Vash's head, his fingers carding through the shorter hair there.]
No, you ain't. [He rumbles, pressing his lips to the crown of Vash's head.] S'gonna be okay. Yeah?
[He holds him a little tighter, a little closer. Vash might as well be in his lap, at this point. And as he cries, Wolfwood won't stop him. He'll just hold and let him, especially when he can feel unshed tears welling up in his own eyes, threatening to spill over when he blinks.]
I love you, okay?