“Once I told you I’d kissed a thousand women,” The blonde started. The two of you were sat on the roof of the insurance girls’ car. A shot glass between his prosthetic fingers, his blue eyes glued to you. His spectacles rested atop the crown of his head, with piece of his blonde hair falling over his forehead. There was this sort of sparkle in his eyes, even after you One he didn’t normally have, where his smile reached his eyes. You had offered to kiss him, on the cheek.

Yet it was still a kiss, and the thought of your lips pressing to his cheek made his heart jackhammer in his chest. “That was a lie.” Vash declared, looking away from you. His cheeks were ruddy as he looked into the bottom of his shot glass. Of course, you knew it was a lie. He felt butterflies rumbling around in his stomach as he felt your gaze lingering on him. It sent shivers across his skin. “I’ve only kissed two or three hundred!” He explained, nodding to himself as he looked to you.

It felt impossible to not lean in, and press a chaste kiss to your lips. “Now, how many men have you kissed?” He asked, his eyes brimming with curiosity, and a sort of tenderness. For months now, you have been his traveling companion. At first, he didn’t want you coming, too scared to let you meet an untimely demise. Even now that persisted, but he had more reason now. Vash was scared to lose you, you were like the elusive mayfly of love that he claimed to be chasing.

When he heard your answer, he felt his cheeks redden more. “But, you offered me a kiss.” The man clad in the red coat stared at you, his eyes flickering between yours, almost making his look like they sparkled on their own. His heart pounded against his chest and ribs, as if begging to jump out of his chest and into your hands. “Why?” Vash asked, nervously turning his shot glass around between his fingers.