~Part 1: "Where's YOUR Mind?"~

Vash was in the middle of pouring himself a glass of whiskey when Wolf- wood asked him the question. The nature of the request surprised him so badly that he spilled some of it on his hand. He then put down the bottle, turned around, and stared Wolf straight in the eye. The priest stared back, grinning cockily.

"Uh... could you repeat that?" Vash asked.

Wolf asked once again.

"Uh-oh. I was afraid of that." He swallowed the entire shot of whiskey. "Is there a reason for this?"

"Do you KNOW how heavy that cross is? I need *something* to relieve my... tension." His eyes glinted wickedly.

"Yeah... I guess so..." Vash was getting uncomfortable under the priest's gaze. "But I've never done that before."

"It's OK. I'll instruct you."

"You've done this before?"

"Oh, sure. Even priests need R&R." He smiled again. "Will you do it?"

"Sure. What're friends for?"

"Great! Thanks! I owe you one!" As Vash poured himself another glass of whiskey and drank it up, Wolf slid out of his jacket and shirt. Now naked to the waist, he stretched and cracked all the bones in his back. He laid down on the floor belly-first, then craned his neck to look at Vash. The blonde has just removed his trenchcoat and was now yanking off his boots, one by one. When he got them off, he smiled at Wolfwood and turned a little pink.

"Come on, Vash," Wolf said huskily. "Do it. I need it... NOW."

***

"Meryl, what did you do with my pudding?!" Milly whined. The two women were in their bedroom, killing time in their respective fashions. Meryl was typing up a damage report for the latest disaster involving the Humanoid Typhoon, and Milly had been cleaning out her gun. Then, the big girl had decided that what she needed was a good-old-fashioned snack of vanilla pudding, and had gone looking in the mini-fridge to find them... all in vain. She now impatiently stamped her foot as she awaited a reply.

Meryl looked up at her partner, eyebrow raised. She was reclining on her bed with the typewriter in her lap. "What on earth would I want to do with your pudding?"

"But it's not here! Who else would have taken it?"

"I don't know. Ask Vash or Wolfwood. They should be in the ajacant hotel room."

"No! I refuse to accept that Mr. Vash or Mr. Priest would do something so heinous as steal pudding!"

"Yeah, and I would?" Then, seeing that her friend was in tears, she softened a little. "Look... why don't you go check in the kitchen? Both our rooms are connected to it. Maybe the pudding somehow wound up in there."

Milly brightened. "You think so? Gosh, I hope it's there. I'll bring you some! Thanks, Meryl!" With that, she trotted happily out of the room.

As she breezed through the hallway to the kitchen, her excitement grew. At last, some vanilla pudding... She could almost TASTE it... She un- consciously drooled on her necktie as she reached to open the door--

--Then stopped dead.

There was an odd noise coming from behind the kitchen door. Curious, Milly leaned her ear towards the keyhole and listened up. It sounded like Mr. Priest... and was he moaning?!

Milly had to bite her hand to keep from gasping. Mr. Priest was alone in the kitchen, moaning deep and lustily. Dear God, what was he *doing*?! She listened harder, and found she could make out voices:

"Oooooh... oooh Gooood... Oh YES, right there... Harder, dammit, harder!"

"I-I-I-I-I CAN'T do it any harder! I'm doing my best here, Nick!"

"C'mon, Vash, you're driving me crazy! I know you can do it! Come on, dig in harder! Put your back into it!"

"OK... Here goes--"

"OH! OH, Sweet Jesus YES! Praise the LORD! Oooooh-UH! Oh, VASH!"

At that last phrase--half-shouted, half-groaned in ecstacy--Milly blacked out for a few seconds. When her senses returned to her, she found that the front of her shirt and tie were soaked in blood, and more was threatening to explode from her nose.

Driven by terminal curiosity (and disbelief that she'd actually heard what she'd heard), she put her ear back to the keyhole.

"GlOOOORiAAA! AAAlelUUUJA!"

"Hang on... There, how's that?"

"Oh YES! Right there! Don't stop! Ooooh-oooo-OOOH! HARDER, for the love of God!"

She jerked away, as though the metal were molten. After staring at the door in pure horror (still able to hear Wolfwood's screams of pleasure and Vash's sudden maniacal laughter), she stumbled to her feet and made a crazed dash for the bedroom.

***

Meryl was still typing when Milly came bursting in. She glanced up, looked back to her work, then did a double take. "Uuuuh... Milly... you mind explaining to me how you got blood all over your ONLY collared shirt?"

The tall woman tripped over her own feet and fell on Meryl's bed. She stared vacantly at the ceiling and mumbled: "Mr. ... Vash... Mr. ... Priest... kitchen... wild... sex..."

"WHAT?" Meryl kicked her typewriter off the bed, grabbed Milly by the collar, and gave her a few good shakes. "Oh my God, pleeeeeze tell me that you did NOT just say that those two immature, stupid men are fucking in the kitchen!"

"That ain't what I said," Milly groaned, her eyeballs turning into li'l black swirlies. "But that's the gist of it, yeah."

"That's it! As part of the Burner-Deli insurance agency, I must invest- igate my target's sexual promiscuity!" She charged out with all the short-girl-attitude that she could muster. Milly, still feeling like someone had brained her with the New York City phone book, followed.

***

"Have you no SHAME, you--you happy hentais?!" Meryl bellowed as she broke down the kitchen door. "I oughtta--" And she stopped, in utter surprise.

Nicholas D. Wolfwood was laying spread-eagled on the ground. He had no shirt, but his pants were still on. He had a look of sweaty rapture on his face, and he was pounding his fist into the floor (like a dog kicking its leg if you scratch it in the right spot). Vash was sans trenchcoat, but he still had on a sweatshirt. The only other thing he was missing was his shoes...

...And Vash appeared to be hopping up and down on Wolf's back.

Both men froze, mid-hop and mid-punch, when the two women broke in.

Vash stepped off Wolf's back with a guilty blush on his face. The priest got up from the floor and luxuriously stretched, looking at peace with the world.

Meryl was stumped. "What... what... what the HELL were you two doing?"

"Um..." Vash turned even redder. "I--"

"He was walking on my back," Wolf said matter-of-factly. He went to his discarded jacket and searched for a cigarette.

"Huh?" Milly gaped.

"Walking on my back," he repeated, lighting up. "Hauling around that cross all day is a killer on my back. A massage is too expensive, so when the pain gets real bad, I get someone to walk on it for me. It pops all the joints and releases the tension in my muscles." He took a puff and grinned at Vash. "I do believe that's the best time I've ever had."

It looked as though the blood vessels in Vash's face were going to burst. He looked at his feet and mumbled something incoherent.

"How come you didn't ask one of us to do it?" Meryl demanded.

"It wasn't sexist," the priest said smoothly. "You're too short, and even though your partner's a tall drink of water, she's light. Vash just so happened to fit the profile I wanted."

Somehow, Vash managed to turn even redder.

"Are you all right, Mr. Vash?" Milly asked.

"Yes! Of course! Fine as kine!" He gave a high-pitched, nervous laugh. "How come you have blood all over your shirt?"

"Nothing--"

"She had hentai thoughts after listening at the door!" Meryl siezed her friend by the ear and dragged her from the room. "You sick perv, I can't believe you! I thought those MEN were bad enough..." Her voice was finally blocked by the bedroom door slamming shut.

"Who knew?" Wolfwood marveled, crushing his smoke on the floor. "Never figured Milly to be the type to get off on that stuff." He glanced at Vash with a critical eye. "Are you all right? You look like you've got a nasty sunburn and your face is fixing to peel off. Why're you blushing so damn much?"

The gunman didn't stop going red. He mumbled something Wolf didn't catch--either "I'm tired" or the Arabic word for "fart-knocker". He grabbed at his trenchcoat, but Wolf stopped him with a hand on the shoulder. "Why, Vash the Stampede... I do believe that this comedy of errors is turning you on."

"N-NO!" Vash choked out, his eyes bugging out, his face suddenly blanching to the color of paper. "I-I-I-I-I-I-I'd n-never..." His tongue suddenly tied itself in 47 different knots as Wolf turned him around to face him. He let himself stare into the priest's dark blue eyes, getting hopelessly lost as he always did. He made a small noise of surprise when Wolfwood suddenly pulled him closer--

Suddenly, there was a furious storm of knocks on the door. Before either man could react, the hotel owner burst in, a black cat at his heels. "What 'n tarnation is goin on in here?!" the man bellowed. "Ah get complaints o' sex noises, slammin around, screamin, an otherwise commotion! Ah cain't have this kind of higgledy-piggledy goin on in mah hotel! All o y'all got three seconds to haul ass OUT!"

"MROWR!" the cat added helpfully.

***

And as the four friends unwillingly were set out on the street, three out of four were declaring: "Vash, this is all your fault!"

~owari~
Stay tuned for Part 2: The Japanese Word for Tone-Deaf