Vaas isn’t a fan of waiting, and the thing with Handsome motherfucking Jack is that he always made you wait. Vaas has learned to expect it, but he’s not really used to it yet. He doesn’t like it, either. He smokes up seven cigarettes while waiting until he gets bored and starts pacing. In the long ass time he’s left to himself, he ends up cleaning up the mess that is his room, washing his face thoroughly, punching one of his guys in the face, petting one of the skags on their compound for five minutes straight, and even changing clothes. That muscle shirt Jack gave him a while back with the Hyperion logo on it? Yeah, he’s wearing that. He’s not a fan of yellow, but the shirt looks good on him. It really compliments his shoulders and back.
When His Majesty finally decides to arrive, Vaas finds out through the yelling. His psychos are starting to throw fits, and he rushes his ass outside to scream at them to SHUT THE FUCK UP YOU PIECES OF SHIT DO YOU WANT ME TO BLOW YOU UP??? IS THAT WHAT YOU WANT??? I WILL FEED YOU TO EVERY SINGLE CREATURE ON THIS FUCKING PLANET IF YOU DO NOT FUCK OFF RIGHT NOW. He’s lucky enough that it’s only a few of them, and they’re not the fully insane ones. These actually bother to listen, even if they only listen to threats and yelling. He motions over one of the nomads to tell him to take care of shit for a few hours and to not fucking bother him unless it’s a huge emergency, and then he’s back to sunshine and smiles and dashing over to Jack.
“Hey. Want me to take your jacket for you? How nice of you to finally show your pretty face. I was getting really fucking worried that I would have to do all these drugs by myself.” Vaas is an affectionate little shit, but that’s one of the few things he can actually control about himself. He manages to just place his hand over the side of Jack’s arm and rub down to his wrist. It’s chaste as can be, but even the big bad Vaas Montenegro has his moments.
When Jack finally lays eyes on Vaas, he doesn’t dare hold back his wolfish whistle. As a matter of fact, he makes it as loud as he can, because damn, boy. Fewer things make him happier than seeing a hot motherfucker wearing his colors, his company’s name (like a brand, like he owns him, and the heat under his color suddenly has nothing to do with the fading sun, and he rakes his eyes over as much of the other as he can, really wishing he’d brought a camera or something). He appreciates the other man’s timing; he’d been this close to strangling one of the psychos yelling gibberish at him. (Oh, sweet Pandora; Vaas really is the only bandit he can think of that he doesn’t want to put a bullet in. Well, most of the time.) But all the shouting is starting to give him a headache and he’s glad when it finally stops, and then suddenly he’s got a smoking hot and twice as cheery puppy dog all up in his face and it’s too bad Vaas doesn’t actually have a tail, ‘cause he would have loved to see it waggin’ for him.
“Knock yourself out, kiddo.” The gentle touch has Jack raising a curious eyebrow before a coy look curls his lips. He swings an arm over Vaas’ very distracting shoulders (seriously kid, stop being so attractive), steering him vaguely towards the buildings as he tosses the package he’s been carrying at the other. “Also– totally told you I’d bring you something. See! I’m thoughtful.”
Vaas smells like smoke and sun and Jack leans in with a sly smirk. The
bandit’s good mood is infectious and Jack’s not sure whether he wants to kick or kiss the smile right
off his big stupid face. He could do both, he muses, it’s more about what comes first. But he’s feeling good, so he keeps his lean close and runs wickedly gentle fingers through the other’s mo-hawk, eager to get somewhere quiet and have all that fun Vaas promised him.
“So, sweetheart, where’s your room?”