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Vash should've seen it coming, really: one moment, he was arguing with Wolfwood, voices stiff and straining with frustration. The next, he's rammed against the wall, breathing heavily as Wolfwood's arm pins him in place.
It would be easy to dislodge him, then hide in the bathroom for a shower that would do little to wash off the craving and inadequacy Wolfwood's proximity provokes—or to go back downstairs to get drunk at the bar, and later tumble in bed like nothing happened. It's a familiar routine.
However, something is different this time: Wolfwood seems to have no intention to let him go.
Written for Ace Trigun Week, Day 4: Touch-starved
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