The jeep rolls and rocks along the sands, and the garble of the radio and the chatter of the front seat occupants is almost enough to lull you to sleep. It's still daytime though and you don't want to sleep before nightfall, as it'll be your turn to start night watch.
To your side, Nicholas is nodding off, fingers twitching as his head is rocked with each small bump and you hope that Meryl runs over something just to see the comedy of his head hitting the roof. To your other side, Vash is looking out the window with his chin on one hand and his prosthetic hand resting on his knee. He's lost in thought, you can tell, watching the outside scenery reflected on his orange glasses and unfocused gaze.
You reach out to entwine your fingers with his, pressing the pads of your fingers against the cool metal of his prosthesis and watching as his hand automatically curls into yours. Vash turns to look at you, a little 'o' of surprise on his face as he registers what's happening, before smiling at you so beautifully that you feel warmth bloom in your chest and you can't help but beam back.
His eyes flicker down to your hand and his thumb traces your skin. It follows the lines of puckered scar tissue and the natural creases of your hand, and you watch his brows slightly furrow as his gaze rests on the scars that line your hand and forearm.
You chuckle a little. You've seen his body - seen him curled up into himself as Meryl dabs at fresh scars on his back and scolds him, seen the network of wounds that dig into his back and the metal attached to his skin, seen the way he'd grow quiet when he catches you looking at his body - but he treats your scars with such tenderness and worry that you almost forget the much larger burdens he carries.
Vash continues to caress your skin, still lost in thought. You open your mouth to speak but find yourself silenced as he brings your hand to his lips and gently, sweetly presses a kiss to the back of your hand. His eyes meet yours as he stays there for a few more seconds before reluctantly pulling away. The touch of his chapped lips lingers as he brings his other hand over to cup yours.
The radio and conversation continue to fill in the background, and you slip your hand loose to catch his prosthesis in your fingers again and bring it up to your lips this time. Your mouth brushes each knuckle softly, and you wonder if Vash can even feel this or if you're just kissing some metal. Judging by the way the tips of his ears flush pink and he leans into your touch, you think that he does.
It's terribly inelegant, the way you touch and kiss each others' hands in a jeep that bounces at the slightest bump with a radio singing some weird hymn and you can hear Nicholas lightly snoring and Meryl telling off Roberto for the umpteenth time. But it's something that you wouldn't change for the world.