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"Hey." Vash drained his glass of whisky and pointed at Wolfwood with a bleary gaze. "Truth or dare."
"That what we're doing now? Sounds dumb." Wolfwood leaned against his arm, chuckling as Vash swiped at his shoulder but only succeeded in nearly toppling over in his chair. He poked Wolfwood with a gloved finger and stumbled over his words with a slurred insistence.
"C'mooon, truth or dare."
Wolfwood gently pushed Vash's hand away, knocking over one of several large empty bottles that littered their table. He cocked his head to the side with amused curiosity. "Alright, I'll bite. 's not like that drunken needle-noggin of yours'll remember anything after anyways."
He thought for a moment. There was no way in hell he was going to do some reckless dare from a plastered companion. They'd already had enough trouble that day, scrambling away from an angry mob because Vash just had to get donuts during the busiest hour of the day. "Truth."
The word slipped out so easily, so innocently. As if his conscience were as clean as the occupation he claimed to uphold. As if red stained on his hands were just the finger paints the orphans played with when it was too hot to go outside. But as Vash straightened suddenly in his seat, his heart pounded in his chest, berating him for this impromptu confession without a proper church booth. Maybe he was more drunk than he thought. Nevertheless, Wolfwood downed another shot, trying to swallow back the growing nausea in the back of his throat while Vash deliberated.
In reality, the outlaw wasn't as intoxicated as he insinuated. Sometimes it was safer to act more drunk than he was in case of confrontations and quick escapes. Vash felt his body processing the alcohol out of his system, replacing it with a sudden torrent of questions. He stared into Wolfwood's grey eyes, the flush of red in his cheeks as he slumped over his empty glass with a quiet groan.
Are you alright? Vash wanted to ask. Why are you so contradictory? You nag about how I'm always throwing myself into danger, but what about you? You insist on playing the devil and killing mercilessly, but I can see the pain in your eyes with every life you take. Why do you go on living like this, bearing all the sins you don’t deserve? What has my brother done to you?
Wolfwood. He wanted to lean closer, to brush aside the dark bangs in front of the other man's eyes and hold him close just to remind him that he's alive. What do you think about on those late nights, when you're smoking those cigarettes under the moonlight? What do you dream about when you toss and turn in your sleep? Are you plagued by thoughts like mine, of painful pasts and uncertain futures? Why don't you care about yourself as much as I care about you?
"Ow!" Vash rubbed the spot on his forehead where Wolfwood flicked him.
Wolfwood laughed. "What're ya staring off into space for, spikey? 'S just one stupid question. Shoot."
Vash glared at him. Took a deep breath, trying not to shudder. Gave him a practiced cocky smile. "Do you always sweet talk your motorcycle while repairing it?"
"Oh fuck off, it was one time. Angelina II's been through too much because of your spikey ass, poor girl." Wolfwood took a drag from a freshly lit cigarette, maneuvering the filter in his mouth and exhaling smoke as he spoke. "Your turn. Truth or dare."
Vash rested his chin against a gloved hand and tossed Wolfwood a mischievous grin. "Dare."
Wolfwood gave a dark laugh. "Careful what you choose, spikey." But Vash simply smiled, humming contently to himself while Wolfwood chewed on the filter of his cigarette in thought.
"I dare you…" he began. But then Wolfwood faltered, the words stuck in his throat. I dare you to drop that façade of yours, teetering through life without a care in the world. I dare you to quit that completely blind faith in humans. Why do you still believe in us, after everything humans have done to you, with all the scars you carry? I dare you to put down that idiotic, pacifistic philosophy and think about yourself for once.
The burning cigarette was reaching its filter, letting out that familiar unpleasant taste in his mouth.
I dare you to quit giving me that fake smile of yours, needle-noggin. I dare you to stop looking at me like that, as if I mean anything to you. I dare you to take out that gun of yours, point it at my head, and finish what we started. I dare you to protect yourself as much as I try my damn best to protect you.
“Wolfwood?”
Wolfwood's head jerked up, meeting Vash's gaze. His cerulean eyes were full of concern. As if he wasn't putting himself at the mercy of a man with more sins on his back than grains of sands in his boots. How could he put this much trust in someone that would betray him at any moment—is betraying him at this very moment as his guide towards both their deaths.
He gave a small huff, putting out his spent cigarette and forcing himself to relax. "Alright spikey," Wolfwood raised his empty glass and tapped it against the bar counter. "I dare you to buy us another round, how ‘bout that?"
Vash scowled. “Jeez, I get taking someone out for drinks first but this is ridiculous.” He didn’t seem to notice the way Wolfwood’s shoulders stiffened and a tint of pink coloring his cheeks as he reluctantly dug through his bag for a couple of loose double dollars. “Meryl’s gonna kill us when she finds out.”
Wolfwood looked around the crowded bar warily, taking note of the seedy looking ruffians in the back corner. Luckily, no one seemed to notice the sixty billion double dollar man parting with his money for another bottle of whisky with a sigh. “Yeah well, better her than whoever recognizes you here. ‘S only a matter of time.”
They sat in silence, sipping their replenished drinks and stewing in their thoughts from what was supposed to be an innocuous game. Vash spoke up suddenly.
“Hey how about a round of 20 questio-”
“No.”
“Ok.”