Chapter Text
The Ghoul had been watching the Vaultie closely. He’d been unable to come up with any further theories to explain her behavior. However, it still didn’t make sense to him. So he was unable to let it rest. Figuring he must be missing something. Some bit of information, which would put her behavior into context. So he’d been paying more attention.
He’d tried to keep from being too obvious about it. Tried to find moments when he could observe her behavior when she wouldn't notice. People revealed a lot when they thought they were unobserved. Usually minor things. Tics, nervous behavior, occasionally something gross. But sometimes even he could get lucky, and they would let something slip that he could use. He wanted to watch her at ease. To see her when she wasn’t so obviously responding to the threat he posed to her. But as the days passed, he couldn’t seem to find a moment when she wasn’t already watching him. So it was a fair bet she was well aware of his newfound focus.
She was always watching. Eyes he’d once thought doe-like staring at him with the cold intent of the coyotes they’d killed. Shining in the dark. Reflecting back the firelight, gaze upon him before he’d even finished the movement to tilt up his hat.
In the day she kept him in her sights. Loping twenty or so feet behind, stalking him while he walked. Her and the dog, more and more often together. Following behind. He wondered sometimes if she clicked and pointed at him, if the dog was loyal enough to attack.
Biting her lip and cleaning her weapons in moments of stillness. Watching his hands with intense focus while he skinned their next supply of food. No longer pausing for even a moment at the sight of viscera. Miming occasionally the movements of flensing. Grinning when she let go the bullet that had dropped the thing he was preparing.
Hand already on her holster and drawing by the time his fingers twitched for a weapon. Not knowing yet what the threat was, but knowing his first and smallest tells for violence. Eager for violence in a way he knew she was still in denial of. A different animal than the one that had crawled out of her bunker.
Even when she was looking away, he could feel the weight of her attention. Her head tilted to listen, and keeping him always carefully in her peripheral. The rare occasion he decided to speak first, she would already be turning to gaze at him when he opened his mouth.
He couldn’t remember a time he had ever been the subject of such intense scrutiny. Which, considering the life he’d led before the bombs dropped, was saying something. It made something in him burn. It wasn’t fear. He still knew he was more deadly than her. Stronger, meaner, and harder to put down. Didn’t doubt he could kill her before she could kill him. Yet, it was interesting, being the subject of the look she had been giving him.
It all came to a head not long after he’d started looking at her more. He didn’t think anything had been different, compared to the days prior. Yet, when she awoke, he could tell today would be different.
She woke with a start, like she’d been electrocuted. Limbs tensing and then shooting herself upright. Propping herself up, eyes scanning her surroundings wildly before they settled on him. Chest heaving. As she stared at him with something like hunger. He’d considered speaking then. Saying something biting, or demanding an explanation, but there was something about her stare that stayed his tongue. One hand propping herself up where she’d bolted upright, and the other idly fingering her knife.
After another long moment, she walked off without a word. Clicking for Dogmeat to follow her. The change to their routine threw him off slightly, and he scolded himself for allowing a routine to form that he could be thrown from. She usually enjoyed saying something cheerful first thing. Looking through her things. Stretching and cracking her neck. Morning grin turning from fake to genuine when she saw the annoyance on his face from being forced to endure friendliness first thing in the morning.
She didn't return to normal as the day progressed. Spending all of it, just slightly off. Her gaze was heavier than normal. Expression lacking its usual false friendliness. It made him itch for his gun, even as another part of him desperately wanted to know what would come of that look.
It wasn’t until the sun started setting that he finally got to learn what was wrong with her. They’d secured their shelter in silence. Both used to the others movements by now.
He’d looked at her, squinting against the sun, which was just beginning to set behind her. To see her, as always, already looking. The sky was dark above, save for the horizon which burst with vibrant purples and oranges, clouds in the distance, or dust clouds he couldn't say. The light making her silhouette glow. The wastes too bright sunset turning her for a moment into something else. The shadows cast on her face, making her large eyes seem too dark. She was still for a moment, not even breathing, and then she was moving toward him. Closer than she ever willingly got to him.
By the time she had shoved him against the wall, he already had his gun shoved against her torso. The safety released and finger resting on the trigger. A gut shot would kill her, but not as quick as she’d wish it would if he pulled the trigger. Gut shots nearly always killed, but they could take weeks if you were unlucky enough. If it was anyone else he would have already killed her. He didn’t want to examine his reasons for holding back.
Her hands were stronger than they used to be. Her newly calloused and one corpse bitten digit digging into his shoulders hard. If his nerve endings weren’t so fried he knew it would have hurt. She was smaller than she’d been when they met, lost weight on the surface that she couldn’t really afford to lose. Barely breathing as she slowly pressed herself into him.
Considering him carefully as she moved the corpse finger hand to the back of his head. Watching his expression with intense interest as she dug her nails in. Her other hand coming to his chest, pushing him further flush against the wall.
He considered her back. Not pulling the trigger, but not letting her movements dislodge his aim. Her lips were cracked, Always on the verge of bleeding from dehydration and the way she chewed them when she was deep in thought. The length of her eyelashes, which were heavy with road dust. Her hair, not clean, but as well taken care of as it can be in a place like the wasteland. The wiry strength under her jumpsuit paired with the softness of her breasts. The flush to her cheeks. Those damned eyes.
Whatever she was looking for, she seemed satisfied that she had found it. Surging forward to bring him into a kiss. Lacking any shyness he might have predicted from her. He should have predicted this, but it still took him by surprise. He nearly pulled back, stilling when she bit him. Her teeth sinking in mean, and hard enough to draw blood Her nails digging in like claws, forming divots in the back of his skull. Keeping him from pulling back. He could feel her smile into his mouth when she tasted copper.
The last coherent thought he had was that his stupidest theory was turning out to be right.