150 Bullets

029. Justify

How to justify it...

He stares at your hand. Looks at his own. Looks back at your hand. It swings by your side as you walk up the dune. The suns beat down from above, and the desert sands are bright. You look back at him with squinted eyes, checking on him, before turning back to chart your course. He's grateful for his glasses; they hide his dilemma –

How to justify holding your hand?

Vash readjusts his grip on his pack and walks faster to catch up. There're no crowds to push through, so no need to hold hands to keep together. No danger to drag you through to a safe spot. In fact, it's a very hot day. Too hot to hold hands comfortably, right? Right?

But he still wants to.

So, Vash thinks up something a little devious.

In a sudden haste, he runs up to you. You startle. He knew you would. When you stumble a bit on your footing, he reaches out and catches your hand. "Whoops," he says, "sorry! Didn't mean to scare you!"

You right yourself and give a smile just as quick. "Ha, what are you running for anyway?" You turn your head to look behind, just to see if he really is running for a reason. Nothing but sand dunes and the occasional lizard scurrying across them.

"Oh, just wanted to walk with you. We've been walking in a line for a couple hours now." He does his best to not grin. The feeling of your hand in his is wonderful.

You look back at him, brows raising. After a moment, you hum and shrug. "I mean, sure, that's fine." You go to pull away, and Vash panics. He is not done holding hands!

"Oh, uh, we should probably keep together for a while," he says, holding up your hand, "the next bit of desert gets rocky and hard to walk. Don't want you falling!"

Never mind he's never expressed this kind of worry before; you've walked over plenty of rocky desert just fine. You give him another look. He can feel a blush creeping up his neck and ears. He clears his throat.

Finally, you laugh, and tug him along to get moving again. "Whatever you say, birdie."

Success! His plan worked perfectly. He lets himself really smile now. Does he feel a little bad for lying? Sure. But it's worth the outcome in his opinion. Your hand holds his like they were meant to meld together. His heart skips a few beats when your thumb brushes over his.

After a few minutes, you look over to him. With your own slyness poking through, you say, "You know, if you wanted to hold my hand so bad, you just needed to ask."

His blush reaches new heights, and he lets out a bashful laugh.