A/N: As of June 2019 I have completed this story. Due to the busyness of real life the remaining chapters will be posted once a month until the story is done. I felt it was better to write the whole thing and then go back and edit rather than to edit each chapter as I did it. That is possibly the only reason I finished the story. :)

To all who stuck with me for the 6 years it took me to write this tale, thank you.

I would like to mention these awesome people who actually kicked my butt to get it there:

2013:

Shout out to Karaii & D-Watson for inspiring on this tale. Your Trigun art is Inspirational, what can I say? Apologies to Karaii for making your AU more Trigun canon than it is and to Adreean on Deviant Art for nicking the title.

KSWWSK on Deviant Art, I hope this cheered you up. You sure turned my life upside down just when I needed it the most.

2017:

CrimsonPencil94 on Deviant Art for the inspiration (and kick in the arse) to finish this! She draw a cute pic of Vash with Feathers called .:Feathers:.

2019:

LunaLight144 for your lovely review and acceptance that I'd never finish it. When I wrote back, I honestly didn't think I ever would.

And God, cause surely the only way any story of mine gets finished is via supernatural miracles.

A/N: Ok, this is a fan fic of fan art/fic - I am sunk so deep in this I've drowned ... is this heaven or is this purgatory?

Floofy Vash

Meryl lay curled up in her bed, feeling more than under the weather. In fact, she had been sick for three days and still showed no sign of getting better. It had not helped that Milly had gone off on some errand, which she suspected involved some devious dealings with a certain priest. This errand left her alone for the day. In some ways she was grateful as she had intended to sleep, in others, not so much. With Wolfwood out of the picture, it meant Vash was bored, and a bored Vash meant a restless Vash. He had spent the afternoon play wrestling with the kids, and had just got in, hot and dusty.

She lay huddled up in her bed watching through the crack in the door as he ambled around the kitchen of the house they had rented. He picked up various items from the counter and put them down again. He found the box of doughnuts (by smell, she was sure) in the cupboard under the sink. He ate them with great gusto, which kept him still for perhaps ten seconds, and then he moved to inspect the fridge with the same restlessness. He closed the fridge, not finding anything to his liking, and stared at the print he left on the door. He turned his hand over and brushed it off on his duster then peered down at his coat and scowled at the dirt collected there. He tried to pat the dust off, then coughed and began to unbutton his coat. After struggling with a fiddly middle button, he then shrugged it off.

She stared. As usual he was wearing his leather body armour, over his bare torso, and blue trousers. He held up the coat and with a great flick of his arms whipped it in the air, making the dust fly. He broke out into another fit of coughing as the dust settled. All over him, the kitchen and the food Milly had left out for Meryl to eat. Oh Vash. She almost laughed as he noticed what he had done, and gaped at the food in dismay. She was distracted by the play of his muscles on his chest as he reached up to scratch the back of his neck. He glanced around a bit perplexed as to what to do, and gave a shrug. Somehow, he made the movement so graceful. Meryl felt her stomach flip as he glanced towards the room where she was. She hastily closed her eyes, and pretended to sleep. Having her eyes shut was possibly the best and worst thing. Ooh, she could still see his outline in her mind, and this time there was no leather armour to keep her mind in more respectable places.

She heard his boots crunch the dust against the cement floor as he passed the door. She peeked, and saw him go into his room. She snuggled down, trying to relax and go back to sleep. Her head hurt. Sleep would be so good. She heard muffled movements and sounds from the next room and opened her eyes again, wondering what Vash could be doing. She sat up, trying to see his room, but could not from the way her door was almost closed. The next moment he walked past, she melted back onto her bed. He had stripped naked, and all she caught was a view of his pale white buttocks and dusty hair before he stepped into the bathroom on the opposite side of the kitchen. Everything else, had fortunately - or unfortunately she later thought- been covered by the towel he carried over his shoulders and the bundle of clean clothes.

She lay blinking at the dark ceiling as she could hear him busy in the shower. There was no way she could go to sleep now. Someone's naked rear end was sure to make a prominent feature in any dreams she had. How was it that an arse could look so, so, well, er, magnificent? It was something about the way he moved. The way the muscles shifted beneath the skin with the powerful stride he had. She had not even noticed the scars as she usually did. Oh, those scars fascinated her; she wanted to touch them. Just to try to understand all those little painful parts of his life he kept hidden behind his happy smile and friendly nature.

There was a sudden yell of fright from the bathroom, followed by a rather sickening thud of a body falling. Meryl jumped out of the bed and staggered across to the bathroom, groggily.

"Vash? You okay?"

There was no reply. She put her pounding head against the door. The shower was still going.

"I'm coming in." She called through the door.

There was still no reply.

She twisted the door handle and found it locked. Damn. She slipped back into her room and found her lock picks then set to work on the simple lock. She had it open in a few moments. She pushed it open gingerly, and was very glad she was still crouched on the floor as she did so. She sank all the way to the floor and leaned against the doorpost in shock.

It was not the fact that Vash was sprawled across the bathroom floor naked. Okay, it mostly was. Goodness, he was a well, er, gosh where was a towel? If he woke up now and saw her staring at his frankly magnificent, er, body. But that wasn't all. Instead of well-toned frame captivating her eyes, no they were not fixated on a certain... Meryl, eyes front! Oh they were, they were. Damn, where was a towel? If she was going to help him, she needed a towel, not for his modesty, but for her infinitesimally short attention span. She pushed herself to her feet and grabbed the towel he had thrown over the edge of the chair and dropped it over him. Hah, that was better. Now she could think, a little, and no, this was no time for her brain to replay images. Focus Meryl. He is hurt. You have to help him. Pleasant dreaming can happen later.

She could see what had shocked him so much that he had slipped and fallen. His body had changed in odd ways. He had two large feathery wings now growing out of his back. His hair, instead of being its usual spikey yellow tufts, was still fluffy, except it seemed to be made of feathers much like the back wings were. Now that she could see the whole of him, he looked like an angel. Was this what happened to plants? Was it some sort of biological evolution? It had certainly surprised him.

He was sopping wet. She turned the shower off and sat down on the chair to catch her breath. Her head pounded and she breathed heavily as she tried to get her dizziness under control. Her illness and the potency of his presence were conspiring to have her faint right beside him. She took a steadying breath and then stood up and went to fetch her towel. She was not moving his, not unless she wanted to explain a very awkward scenario to Wolfwood and Milly later.

She sat down on the dry space on the floor beside his head and after checking for injuries, gently dried his face. She traced his lip with her thumb, loosing herself in the gesture for a moment. She could feel his breath on her fingers. He was so different lying still like this, without the energy and light behind his eyes. She fluffed the towel through his strange feathery hair until she had most of the water out, but was too concerned with bending the feathers to scrub the towel through his hair as she did to her own.

She went to fetch Milly's towel, she hoped her friend would not mind the sacrifice, and set it on the floor. With several heaves, tugged him out of where he was lying half in the shower, half in a puddle of water, to the towel. She set about drying him, his wings first, as they were feathers. But she found that the feathers seemed to keep the wet from touching the skin of the wing structure beneath and she only needed to carefully dry the outer layer. She checked to see if he was awake, but he did not stir.

She wiped his back dry, taking care to avoid catching the towel on the pins and grids he had attached to his body. She also resisted the temptation to run her fingers along the broader scars. She was more careful with the towel on the front of his chest. That wound over his left chest bothered her. How did he dry it? The towel did not fit easily into the little holes. She did as delicate and through a job as she could then moved on down his stomach. Instead of inspecting the scars as she had done, she patted the towel over his abdominal muscles. He was so fit! Each was well defined and she thought it a pity that he was so attached to that red coat of his. She certainly would not mind if he walked around shirtless in the house. On second thoughts, the reports she had to send back to Bernadelli would be x-rated if he did. She checked again to see if he was awake, but he still breathed steadily and was out to the world.

She chickened out and left drying his nether regions for last, praying he would be awake by then. She started on his feet. She had never examined his toes before. They were well proportioned and as long and skinny as the rest of his body. He had also cut his toenails recently, for which she gave him extra points, for grooming. She sighed as she ran a finger down the curved instep of his foot; his skin was so soft. He had a full score of points just wearing that damned red coat of his, everything else, including the scars merely gave him bonus points. It was his personality, which earned him a minus score on most days; the way he would rile her with just a look or a silly remark, or that sad empty smile. She shifted around to dry his calf. Phew, she felt tired, hot and very shaky. She hoped it was the fever, because if this was what merely looking at his body while he was unconscious did to her, she did not want to know what would happen if he were to be awake and responsive to her touch. Oh man, but did he have some shapely legs. She had never thought a man could have legs worth looking at, but that was yet another exquisite anatomical feature hidden by that red coat of his. She smiled to herself as she began to hatch a plan to hide the damned coat.

She brushed his towel slightly as she dried his upper thigh and almost jumped out of her skin as his prosthetic fingers closed over her wrist. She gaped at him, her face flushing crimson. He smiled dazedly at her, his eyes unfocussed.

"Mmh?" He murmured. "Mmm head hurts. An' mmm back."

"You fell." She said, trying surreptitiously to get her wrist free, but his fingers were locked around hers.

"Why, why no clothes on?" He asked, blinking and trying to focus on her.

"You were in the shower, you slipped."

He seemed rather disappointed. She wished she had come up with something suave to say. He tried to sit up but his wings responded to the motion too and he jerked around, trying to look at his back and sit up at the same time. He ended up on top of his wings, the towel not covering much. Meryl kept her eyes on his face.

"Er." The strain of not dropping her gaze was beginning to make her eyes hurt.

He frowned at her, then glanced down and blushed crimson and snatched up the towel. It was odd; the skin on his stomach also went red. He struggled into a sitting position and she found she had to look up at him. Goodness, she forgot how tall he was, even sitting beside her; he topped her by over a foot. He scratched his neck self consciously, his cheeks still pink, but the colour faded as a look of horror came over his face. He tried to pull at his hair to see it.

"My, my hair! What is wrong with my hair?"

"Nothing. It's just feathers." She said and stood. She felt too weak and powerless beside him, even though he was naked.

She reached over, and ran her fingers through it. Now that it was dry, it was so soft. Even, softer than she imagined his usual hair to be. The feathers under the main ones which stood up from his head were even softer. She wanted stand there and run her fingers across his scalp forever. She smiled slightly then swayed as she stood. Oh, she had forgotten how ill she was still feeling.

"Insurance girl!" Vash got to his feet and tied the towel around his waist.

Damn, now he was towering over her again. On second thoughts, that put his well-defined torso right at her eye level, no complaints about that.

"You're still ill! Why are you out of bed?"

"Because someone got a fright at his new appearance!" She said snippily.

"Wha? Wouldn't you?" He asked, half whining in that aggravating tone of his. She wondered if he used it to rile her deliberately.

Then he stretched out his arms and his wings followed the motion. The things this did to his chest. She did not know where to look. He then shrugged his shoulders and flexed his arms, the muscles rippling fluidly in a mesmerising motion. He managed to get the wings moving independently of his arms. She watched the graceful movement with a light head.

"Hey! Insurance girl? Meryl! Don't faint on me here!"

She blinked to find that he had his prosthetic arm around her and was patting her cheek with his right hand.

"You need to go back to bed." He said in that soft concerned voice she rarely heard. It was the voice that made her insides knot up in anxiety. It reminded her that he saw far more than he let on and felt deeper than he showed. "This way."

"I can walk!" She pushed away as she felt suddenly claustrophobic by his closeness, and almost collapsed as her legs gave way. He caught her before she fell.

"You're sick." He reminded her as if she had forgotten. Hah, what kind of head cold and flu ever made her faint? That was completely his doing, stupid man.

She was impressed at his gentleness in his strength as he half carried her as he walked her across to her room. He lifted the blankets and she climbed gratefully into bed and lay down, shaking. He tucked the blankets over her, taking a little longer than was needed to smooth the blankets out over her. There was something very comforting with the weight of his hands on her back.

"Sleep and get better." He whispered and left the room.

She heard him walk across the kitchen, then pause.

"Hey? Hey! Didn't I lock the bathroom door?"

She closed her eyes and pretended to be very fast asleep. If he remembered the position he was in when he had first woken, well she did not want to be around to face the embarrassment. Sleep could not come fast enough.