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Disclaimer: Trigun is not mine, but this story is.

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A/N: Trying out something new, here. The (various) pairings and situations in this story will be based on READER OPINIONS, meaning, tell me what you want to see, and I’ll get it to you. One request not needed is VxW. That’s a given.

(Need-to-know!) This story will contain some sexually-deviant themes. Starts out funny, but will get serious and adult as the story progresses. Don’t expect this story to have much of a grasp on reality, either. I’m doing this for pure FUN, and nothing more.

The rating of this story WILL change. Now rated low to get people addicted. I know, I’m a devious bum. So sue me, but enjoy the story, anyway. If there’s a complaint about the rating of this story (when it actually merits a higher rating), I implore you to watch, "The First 9 1/2 Weeks," or even, "9 1/2 Weeks." They’re both rated R. =D

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No one should take themselves so seriously

With many years ahead to fall in line

Why would you wish that on me?

I never want to act my age.

-Blink182, What’s my Age Again?

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Peaches 'n' Cream Part 1

[Wolfwood]

I always knew that it was a bad habit of mine, buying old dirty bikes off of strange men on the street who were probably drunks needing to earn some extra dough in order to pay for their habit. Admittedly, it had always been a terrible decision, seeing as how I know very little about fixing machinery, and all that I did learn was self taught during the times that those same rusted-out, two-wheeled monstrosities broke down. Then again, there wasn’t much I could do about it this time. So, my beautiful Angelina is now nothing more than spare parts lying on a desolate strip of one of the less-traveled routes that lead from one town to another. In all honesty, I’m lost, too. Heading in one direction and unwittingly veering off in another is not fun. Definitely not fun. I’m nearly out of cigarettes. That doesn’t make me happy. All in all, this isn’t going to be a good day.

As if smearing salt into my wounds, Vash trips next to me and falls face first in the dirt with a pained grunt. Mouth open due to the pending squeal that was cut short, he gets a rather hefty dose of desert sand in said orifice and reminds me that he is, in fact, still following me. Annoying and infuriating as he may be, I should be grateful that he’s by my side to keep my company. Yet, rather than keeping me company, he’s causing a great amount of tension to settle itself happily into the muscles of my shoulders. It’s like having to keep track of a small child when he’s around, always wanting to run off, whining about being tired and hungry, and complaining about the heat and need for more water, which reminds me that I’m in dire need of some myself. With a dispassionate shrug as I watch him spit out the mouthful of sand, I jam my cross full of guns into the sand and settle down to take off my shoes.

Vash finally stands and makes his way to my side as I dump the sand out of my shoes into a three inch high pile on the ground. That’s just one thing I hate about this crappy planet. Way too much sand. I sigh and put my shoes back on.

"You could have at least offered me a hand," he says, pouting and raking his fingers back and forth through the tall bristles of hair to shake the sand out of it, directly into my face.

I give him a pathetic look that is probably my best act at feeling sorry for someone as I raise my hands to the front of his face and clap them slowly but roughly. "There. A hand. Would you like a standing ovation for your performance, as well?"

His jaw falls open and he stares at me, eyes wide. "Wolfwood!" he whines annoyingly, the normally effluent tenor of his voice reaching girlish tones. "Why are you being so mean to me today?"

I nearly roll my eyes at that. Has the idiot already forgotten the cause of our unscheduled breakdown on the side of the road? "I dunno, Vash. Maybe it’s the fact that you decided it would be fun to drink the water out of my bike’s radiator while my back was turned? Do you think, just maybe, it could be that?"

"I suppose so."

"So do I."

We sit in silence then, Vash looking hurt and a bit disgruntled, while I, more than likely, look generally pissed off. I growl a bit and reach for the cigarettes stashed away in the inner pocket of my jacket. The first one I pull out is broken, the filter nearly falling off of the thin white paper that holds the tobacco in place. My growl grows more furious as I shove it back together and, holding it in place with my fingertips, light it to smoke.

Vash is still pouting. He’s such a baby.

"...but we were out of water..."

Grr...

"...and I was thirsty..."

"Shut up, Vash." His pout deepens, turning into a mournful frown at my words.

After a moment of silence, he speaks again. At least it’s more timid, this time. Not quite so annoying. He must know I’m on my last nerve. "If it makes you feel any better, the water was nasty. Tasted like motor oil and battery acid. And it was hot."

"You didn’t seem to mind that, considering the fact that you drank all but an inch of it."

"I was thirsty."

"So was I, but you don’t see me drinking my own piss, do you?"

He cringes at that, pulling back slightly and wiping at his mouth with his hand. The dumb little twerp then does something so annoying, so aggravating, so stupid, that I can nearly feel my face heat up in absolute rage. He speaks again. "You’re not going to get much use out of that cigarette, considering that most of the smoke is leaking out near the filter."

I lose it then, throwing my head back to literally scream at the double suns high in the sky above us. Out of the corner of my eye, I see Vash noticeably jump, pulling back and falling over into the dirt before hurriedly scurrying a few yarz away, dragging his backside through the dirt. He’s screaming too, barely heard in my ears over my own voice.

When I stop screaming and stand, he continues. I angrily flick my cigarette as far away as possible and yell again, more controlled, this time; More growl-like. He stops screaming then and sits forward expectantly. I glare at him and turn, intent upon walking fast enough to put at least an ile of dirt between us.

Like a lost puppy, which he has the uncanny ability to appear to be on many, many occasions (I would almost fall for it, had I not seen it used so many times to aid him in getting his way), he jumps to his feet and follows me, a Chihuahua nipping at my heels. "Where are you going, Wolfwood? Are you mad at me? I didn’t mean to upset you. I just felt bad because you’re almost out of cigarettes, and that one was broken. I know how much they mean to you, so I felt bad. I’m sorry I drank the water out of your radiometer (I refuse to allow myself to speak to him, much less correct the fact that it was my radiator). Like I said, I was just thirsty. Do you know which way we’re going now? Did you figure it out? I hope Millie and Meryl don’t find us when we get there. I mean, they’re nice girls, but they can get a bit annoying sometimes. Especially Meryl. Did you notice how bitchy she can be? Sometimes she can be friendly, but geez..."

This is certain to continue on for a while. He seems oblivious to the fact that I’m ignoring him and not responding. Instead of stomping around in the desert at a grueling pace, fists angrily clenched at my sides and slowly tightening, I tune him out as much as possible. I don’t listen to the pointless, stupid chatter that continues to flow from his mouth, choosing to concentrate on my shadow, watching it move as I walk. A small brown and gray dirt lizard scurries from in front of my path hurriedly as I slow my strides just a bit and force myself to unclench my fists, relaxing now that Vash is forgotten at my side.

Then, when Vash excitedly inquires, "What’s that!?" and raises his hand to point at something near the horizon and a bit to the left, I force myself to look. A fairly unexpected site greets my eyes, and I begin to pray in my head that it is, in fact, what it appears to be. A slow smile forms upon my face as I quicken my pace once again.

"Vash, if that’s a vehicle of some sort, I promise I’ll forgive you for being a complete and total moron."

His pace, which had quickened with mine, slows down noticeably for a moment before it catches up once more. I don’t even have to look. I know that he’s pouting yet again. "Thanks. I appreciate it." Yep. Definitely pouting.

After a moment of our steadily quickening steps, it becomes apparent that it is indeed a vehicle on the horizon, slowly but surely making its way toward us. I glance at Vash out of the corner of my eye and notice that he looks very worn out though still smiling. I do something rather cruel and quicken my pace even more, leaving him behind again. He rushes to catch up, and then surpasses me. I frown and walk even faster, nearly at a jog now. As I walk by him, he shoots me a glance and speeds up a bit, keeping us even. After a moment of walk turned jog, I break into an all-out run, bolting ahead of him despite the fact that my feet have trouble finding purchase in the loose dirt. Much to my surprise, he is right by my side, eyebrows knotted together in determination and eyes set straight forward.

I growl and speed up, determined to beat him to the vehicle. He stays by my side though. That truly hurts my pride. Gritting my teeth so hard that it hurts my jaw, I strain to go faster. Of course, it doesn’t work. I’m too tired and thirsty, it’s too hot, and the sand beneath my feet is too loose to allow for longer strides. Vash seems to be having the same dilemma, seeing as how he has yet to pass me. So, we continue like idiotic children engaged in some immature game, each of us trying to best the other, but slowly realizing that it’s pointless as the vehicle is now only a mere fifty yarz away.

Luckily for my macho mind, Vash is the first to crumble to the ground, wheezing like a fifty year old smoker and holding his stomach as if he’s ready to vomit. I fall a good two yarz ahead of him.

As we both crouch in the sand on our hands and knees, him wheezing and me coughing to the point that bile rises in my throat, the vehicle makes its way toward us, engines roaring. I peer up and notice that it, as well, doesn’t seem to be too trustworthy. The large, brown, rusted-out tanker of a truck sputters and coughs as I slowly raise my arm into the air and wave it about in a generalized, understood symbol of someone in need of help.

My spirits raise as I see the vehicle slow and then stop. I stand and shakily make my way over to it, wobbling on weak knees. An old man, face plump and wrinkled and donning a set of bushy eyebrows that desperately need to be trimmed and a hideous green cap sticks his head out the window and says something to me that goes unheard over the sound of the engines. I make my way to his door and prop myself up on the side with my hand. "We... need a ride..." I wheeze at him.

"Hop in the back," he grouches in a deep, rough voice. I smile and nod, thanking him voicelessly before I wave Vash over. I wobble to the back of the truck and drag myself up into the bed. Vash crawls through the dirt to do the same.

The old man turns to eye us through the small sliding window in the back of the cab. "Where to?"

That doesn’t need much thought. "The nearest town."

"The nearest town is back the way I came. I’ll take you to New Vegas. It’s on the way." It’s a bit hard to decipher every word he says due to the fact that his voice is so deep and cracking and the truck is loudly sputtering behind us. When I finally do, though, I nod in acceptance.

Vash pops his head up to the window unexpectedly and I jump back in surprise. "Do you have any water or food? I’m really thirsty!"

A canteen is quickly produced, held out the window by a thick, veiny hand. Vash grabs it and immediately chugs it. I jerk it away, wheezing the loudest and most grateful thanks that I can manage before drinking.

Thank God. That’s all I can think right now. Thank God for people with working vehicles. Thank God for water. Thank God for fat old men with caterpillar eyebrows and water to spare.

"Heeey, give it back! I want some water, too!"

...God dammit...

Marin 2x1 Author Pairing Rating Subject