Work Text:
They were walking.
Of course they were, what else was there to do in the endless expanse of the Mojave?
Well…
No, not fighting.
Well…
No, not that either. They didn’t talk about that. The Ghoul had made it very clear that they were not talking about that incident after she’d been swarmed by those radscorpions and gotten hurt and afterwards had been incoherent and rambling from the poison and maybe might have said too much about the way his eyelashes framed his eyes and how she loved their color and how he reminded her of…
Stop it.
Up ahead, the Ghoul had stopped walking. And Lucy suddenly realized that, while waging this internal argument, she had too. Dogmeat was looking back and forth between them in confusion. There was no threat nearby, no point of interest, no reason why her people had just stopped moving in the middle of a slope of sand that teetered right on the edge of collapsing.
“Ya’right there, Vaultie?”
Lucy blinked, then blinked again. Normally daylight hours had no words. He was taciturn by nature, she’d discovered. Although now that he wasn’t using her as bait or a bargaining piece, he wasn’t cruel. But he’d been on his own for an unfathomable amount of time, and his grasp on the niceties of social behavior had gotten a tad...rusty. Well, most of the time. In the daylight hours. He could be comparatively garrulous when the mood struck him during the evenings when they made a rough camp, sharing what little food they had – don’t think she hadn’t noticed that she got a greater portion all of a sudden, for whatever reason – and warming up at the fire before it was doused. During the day they communicated mostly through hand gestures and expressions, ranging from exasperated to amused to grim, depending on the day and situation.
All that to say, she was shocked he said anything at all, much less in a tone that carried actual concern in it and not just his typical snark. The fact that he’d stopped when she did wasn’t a surprise, given just how attuned he was to his surroundings, always.
“I’m fine,” she croaked, throat parched. This was the other reason they didn’t talk much during the day. It was a waste of precious moisture. Just because it wasn’t as blazing hot as it had been when she first ventured into the wasteland didn’t mean it wasn’t still a desert.
The Ghoul didn’t look back, didn’t speak again. The jingle of his spurs was all she heard as he started forward once more. And because she wasn’t an idiot who allowed too much space to get between them, she followed.
Before he’d kept her in front of him at all times. Keeping her in his sights, she presumed at the time, although now she thought that was flavored by an instinctual mistrust of having anyone at his back where he couldn’t see them. That had changed at the Griffith Observatory. He’d given her his back there. And she’d been armed! She’d shot her mother!
He trusted you wouldn’t shoot him.
Huh.
He trusted her. At least a little. Now that she was thinking about it, she realized he’d been giving her his back ever since, or at the very least allowing them to walk side by side. Lucy had come to terms with many things since leaving the Vault, but there was still a small part of her that was an overachiever, it seemed. That feeling spiraling down her spine was pride. And that was just a ridiculous thing to be proud of, to have a notorious bounty hunter willing to turn his back on her.
At the same time, she could acknowledge that it was no small thing either. In a way, it was a gift. Now that she was aware of it, she would take care not to lose it. She followed him now with something lighter in her step.
---
‘Camp’ that night was in the lee of a rocky incline overhanging a dead tree. They lit only a small fire and she wrapped herself up in her blanket early before the chill really set in. Dogmeat was asleep, curled up in a ball with her paw over her nose, catching what little rest she seemed to need before watching over them all night.
Lucy was well aware that of the three of them, she was the weakest. She had neither the stamina nor the endurance to survive out here the way the Ghoul and the dog did. But he didn’t complain, and Dogmeat never did no matter what. So Lucy didn’t bring it up either.
Dinner was jerky; she didn’t ask what kind. He’d handed her two pieces while he gnawed on one of his own. She didn’t ask about that either. She washed them down with a small amount of water, not nearly enough to quench her thirst, but enough that the meat wouldn’t sit in her stomach like lead. She supposed she should be grateful that whatever they caught and dried in the sun wasn’t also salted. She’d be back to drinking out of puddles again, willing to risk the rads for the hydration. The thought made her snort quietly. It drew the Ghoul’s attention, but he didn’t inquire, rightly guessing she was lost in her own thoughts. They were getting better at letting each other do that. And by they, she really meant herself. But she appreciated his efforts to contribute to their mutual respect.
Their nighttime routine was pretty well set by now. They ate, got as warm as they could, took care of whatever necessary biological functions they had, warmed up again, doused the fire, then settled down to sleep. Intimacy was a given, traveling as they did. Modesty had been rudely shoved aside that very first night. It still made her squirm a little to do her business when she knew he could hear it. He had no such compunction, and sometimes she thought he deliberately stayed within sight while he peed just to see if she’d react. She wondered what he would say if her reaction was to comment on it being apparent that at least he still had the requisite equipment to do it while standing, given that he had no nose.
Tonight was no different, and she was thankful for the cover of darkness to hide her burning cheeks as he even hummed to himself while he did it. She unlatched her Pip-Boy and fiddled with it to keep her somewhat occupied instead. And that worked fine, especially once she caught sight of the date.
“Oh,” she let out, somewhat louder than she intended.
“What,” he called to her, once again sounding concerned rather than irritated.
It occurred to her that he probably wasn’t going to care, if his past behavior and attitude towards anything remotely like sentiment meant anything. Likely no one cared out here, he wasn’t unique in that. But she was still Lucy MacLean, optimistic in the face of everything.
“It’s Christmas Eve.”
Sure enough, he snorted disdainfully. He came back to the camp and stirred up the fire so sparks floated into the sky. She looked up, watching the lights dance until they faded into the backdrop of stars. The Ghoul settled himself onto his back, the bare ground never an impediment for him. This was normally the time when he’d kick sand and grit over the fire until no glow remained. Lucy turned her head to say so, and found that he was watching her in the flickering light.
“So, tell me how all y’all celebrated the holiday in that sardine can,” he drawled. The expression on his face was a barely restrained sneer, but the words were sincere. Well, as close to it as he ever got.
“We’d put up a tree, they were kept in storage all year, so part of the fun was assembling it and moving the furniture around to find just the right spot for it. Norm would act like he wasn’t interested...until it was time to plug in the lights. We’d hang the ornaments together, all the things that had been passed down from my mother’s side...” She trailed off as it occurred to her why it was only her mother’s things. Her father didn’t have any generational heirlooms. He hadn’t been born in a Vault, he’d been frozen in one until he came to 33 to marry her mother. How else did someone prewar survive this long? Without becoming a ghoul, that is.
How long you been wastelanding?
A long time.
Some of her enthusiasm to share the memories guttered. Everything she’d ever known was tainted by the knowledge she had now. Every moment of working side by side with her father, of watching movies together that he claimed had come from his father and father’s father, every single time he claimed to miss her mother. Every lie she now knew was there...
“What else?” the Ghoul asked softly, as if he knew something ugly was brewing in her head.
“Well, we got extra rations at the holidays, special things that weren’t on the normal rotation. Once for Christmas, and once for Independence Day. We’d make a feast of it. And we’d be together, as a family. Time was a rare commodity with Dad. He was always so busy with his Overseer duties.” She couldn’t help the way her face crumpled up. Grief, anger, betrayal. She waited for the Ghoul to say something nasty, to tear down her memories further still with his callous disregard for anything decent.
“Huh,” was all he grunted out, however. He cocked his head, the firelight reflecting off his eyes. “No gifts?”
Lucy scoffed, but lightly. “Gift giving isn’t important in the Vault. Space is limited and it’s not like there’s anything new to be had anyhow. The time spent together with loved ones is what matters most.”
“Well now, that does surprise me a little, I must say.” His tone had shifted some, enough to make her wary of what might come out next. That tone was the one he used when he was about to rile her up, or face someone down. “You’d think the black heart of capitalism would still be beatin’ strong down there. But I s’pose sacrifices had to be made somewheres.”
“What do you mean?”
“Time was, Christmas was all about gettin’ the biggest new toy, the shiniest new gadget. How much you paid for it counted just as much as what it was, no matter if what it was, was useless.”
It was on the tip of her tongue to ask how he knew that, to say it with such venom in his voice. But that was a forbidden topic, even though he’d been the one to mention he had a family, back at the Observatory. In all the weeks they’d been traveling together, he’d never brought it up again. But she wanted to know.
“Did you…?” She stopped when he cut a sharp side-eye at her. Too close to the line. Okie dokie.
But then he relented with a sigh. “I have a daughter. Last time I saw her she was just seven. She’s who I’m lookin’ for.”
“Oh.” But wait, if he’d been looking for two hundred years… “Is she still...alive, somehow?”
“I’m hopin’. Maybe she’s frozen like your daddy was. And that bitch Moldaver.” The sharp look was back. “You realize she was prewar too, doncha?”
“I...yes, I gathered that, if she was trying to get back information from Vault-Tec. That apparently my Dad had.”
“Figured you’d still be steamin’ about all that.”
“What makes you think I’m not?”
“Well, you ain’t rantin’ and ravin’ none. Ya haven’t shed a single tear that I’ve seen.”
“What good would that do me? That’s just a waste of energy. And water.” She met his look with one of her own. “I’m saving it for when we find him.”
“There you are.” He smiled, crooked and sardonic as always, but genuine too. He seemed to like it when she got her dander up. He hauled himself to his feet and kicked sand into the coals. “Best get some sleep, sweetheart.”
“I know.”
She curled up on her side, still wrapped in her thin blanket. The ground was hard under her, and had already let go of the heat it had absorbed during the day. But that was nothing new, and she liked to think she was getting used to it. She listened to the Ghoul move around their makeshift camp, and drifted off before he lay himself back down.
---
Lucy woke with her nose pressed into Dogmeat’s fur and the realization that last night the Ghoul had offered up another piece of trust. Of himself. A daughter. A child when the War happened. Lucy shuddered, and not from the early morning cold.
She heard the creak of leather and the crackle of flame and sat up. The sight that greeted her was...well, she could honestly say she’d never seen it before. The Ghoul was crouched at the fire, turning something on sticks. She could see his bare arms, with his sleeves folded up like that. They were warped like his face and covered in scars, but still carried visible muscle and sinew. It was only then that she realized that his duster was draped over her atop her meager blanket. She hadn’t been too terribly chilled when she opened her eyes, even though she could see the rime of frost on everything else that still lay within the rock outcropping’s shadow. It would burn off soon enough, she knew. It always did. Already there was a haze in the air that wasn’t just smoke.
He’d heard her sit up and turned his head just enough so that she saw his profile. She’d often tried to picture the nose that was missing. But the image she got had always made her scoff at herself because it was just too ridiculous and influenced by all those movies she’d grown up on. Still, the way he was looking at her from under the brim of his hat didn’t help the comparison.
“You let me sleep late,” she said, desperate to get her mind away from memories of cowboys and innocent – ignorant – childhood.
“Merry Christmas.”
Lucy laughed, a spontaneous sound she hadn’t planned to let out. But she hadn’t expected that either, the sentiment or its deadpan delivery. She pulled the duster closer around her legs and hugged her knees to watch whatever he was doing. He reached for another bit of wood to toss into the flames and she saw it was evidently a fresh breakfast.
“You went hunting?”
He shrugged. She beamed at his back, not believing that nonchalant stance for a second. He’d hunted and cooked something fresh. She could only imagine it was for her, because he was content with whatever was at hand. It was gosh darned Christmas and miracles apparently happened. She didn’t care if it was radroach or bloatfly or some other horrible insect for this meal, she was going to enjoy it no matter what after his effort to procure it.
“It’s iguana,” he said out of nowhere. “’Fore you start overthinkin’ yourself into a tizzy.”
“I wasn’t going to ask,” she said, hearing her own voice come out in a teasing rebuke. He even chuckled. It really was Christmas.
“Jus’ don’t get spoiled now, sweetheart.”
“I won’t. Promise.”
He swiveled on the balls of his feet and offered her one of the sticks. She took it, still smiling. She couldn’t help it, she felt downright giddy. Not even the sour look on his face could dampen it, especially since she had a feeling he was faking it. It didn’t take long for the meat to cool and she groaned aloud at the first bite. It had been ages since they’d had anything fresh. Hunger really was the best sauce. She devoured the whole skewer in under a minute, then licked her fingers clean of the juices. He was still watching her and she felt her cheeks flush.
That look was anything but sour. Or fake. His mouth hung slightly open and his eyes were wide and for a moment she saw past the burns and melted flesh to the man beneath the facade he so ferociously held onto in order to survive. His shirt was blue and yellow, she noted. Blue and yellow like her jumpsuit. There were the remnants of gold tassels all along the seams at his shoulders. Patches and sewn up tears showed in places, but it dawned on her that she’d seen a shirt like this before. On a poster in the living room in the Vault. In full technicolor, even though the movie itself was not. A rare print, her father always said, hinting at some socio-political reason for why more were never made.
“The Man From Deadhorse,” she whispered. His last film before the Great War. The war in which he was believed to have perished like pretty much everyone else.
The Ghoul looked away and clenched his jaw and she knew she was right.
“Oh my gosh. No. No way! Yes?”
“You ‘bout done?”
“Cooper Howard!?”
His eyes cut back to her, hard and jagged enough to slice her open. Or maybe it was him that was bleeding. “Is dead and gone.”
“No.” She got out of the blanket and the duster and kneeled in front of him, as close as she dared. She raised her hands, giving him plenty of time to duck away, to swipe at her, to do anything to stop this. He didn’t move an inch. His face was warm under her fingertips, the skin softer than it looked. Not like tanned leather at all. “No, I see him in there.”
“I ain’t him anymore.”
She tilted her head, running her thumbs gently across his cheekbones. His eyes fluttered closed and she felt more power in this moment than she’d ever had. This was more than mere trust. This went deeper, into the marrow. Vulnerable.
“Why would you deny it when you’ve let me see?” she asked, realizing now that he’d been dropping little hints all along. You want another autograph, young Henry? Feo, fuerte y formal. His breathing was shallow, almost a pant. His eyes shot open and she was afraid he might pull away, but he didn’t. He just stared at her, something raw and naked in his gaze that made her heart ache. “Doctor Wilzig told me I’d have to become a different animal to survive up here. But I am still Lucy MacLean. And you are still Cooper Howard.”
“Ain’t the same,” he mumbled, the accent almost entirely gone. Part of the facade, she assumed. It wasn’t the first time she’d heard it drop out of his voice. You comin'? She couldn’t believe that she hadn’t put it together sooner.
“Why? Because of time?”
“Ain’t just the time. The things I’ve done that you got no idea about…”
“Cooper,” she said, so softly it was barely a breath. He froze under her hands. “You told me yourself that you were me. You’re still in there. If you want to be.”
“And if I don’t?” he asked, trying for the harshness he usually lashed out with. It fell somewhat short. She kept her touch light, moving her hands until they cupped his face, until she could feel his pulse under the fingers at his jaw. It wasn’t exactly racing, but it was quick enough to make a lie of the studiously casual expression he was attempting.
“Is that what the Ghoul is? A way to be someone else? A way to hide?”
A fire lit behind his eyes and she worried she’d gone too far. But then the smirk emerged, the one she’d seen so many times. “Careful, sweetheart. I’ve shot men for less.”
“I know. I’ve watched you do it.” She finally pulled her hands away and noted that he leaned forward a little as she did, as if chasing the contact. “Are you going to shoot me?”
“Would you let me get away with it if I tried?”
“No.”
The smirk turned warmer. His own hand – the one carrying her finger, and she promised herself they were going to have words about that soon – lifted and caressed her cheek, tucking a lock of hair behind her ear. “That’s my little killer.”
---
The settlement rose out of the desert like a beacon. Lucy crested the ridge of a dune and stopped next to Cooper – gosh, it was weird, but in a good way – who was looking down at it. He tilted his head to the side then sort of slid his gaze over to her.
“How ‘bout we end this cheerful holiday with a real bed?”
“You mean it?” She looked back down to the town, with its high walls and bright lights within. “You think it’ll be okay...I mean for you?”
“You think I give a shit about that? Didn’t Filly teach you nothin’?”
She made a face at him before realizing he was teasing. That was a little weird too, both him doing it and her getting it, but it was also good. If he was anyone else, she’d swat his arm for such a terrible joke. But he was him, and she’d crossed enough lines today. Prudence dictated that she not push it.
He chuckled under his breath, then led the way down the dune towards the walls. Dogmeat scampered back and forth, getting in their way more often than not. It was like the dog could feel the change in the atmosphere between them.
The closer they got, the more Lucy began to realize that he’d known this place was here. She would never have made heads or tails of these walls to find an opening in them, but he sauntered around them with perfect confidence and rang a buzzer that she also hadn’t seen.
“You’ve been here before,” she said, not bothering to make it a question.
“Took a bounty or two here, yeah.”
“Is that accepted the caps or collected the heads?”
He grinned at her, all sly and sideways, and didn’t answer. Before she could open her mouth to ask again, he’d taken her wrist and she felt metal clamp down on it. Astonished, she didn’t react quick enough to stop him from joining her other hand in the cuffs.
“Where did you even have those? And why am I in them? Coo…”
He laid a finger on her lips. “Don’t call me that here. I may have let you know it, but that don’t mean I want you blabbin’ it. Understand?” He waited for her to nod. “Now, this here is an agency outpost. I can walk in just fine, but you? You would be chewed up and spit out faster’n you can say feral. So, you’ll walk real nice for me and kindly not kick up a fuss ‘bout them cuffs.”
She fumed, although honestly there wasn’t much heat in it. What he said made too much sense and she couldn’t expect him to drop the act all at once. It went too deep. A little warning might have been nice, though. Or planning of any kind.
He had this planned, you goose, she scolded herself.
“Now, try to keep your mouth shut. Think of it as actin’.” This with a wholly sarcastic but self-deprecating expression on his face. "Stick to her, girl," he added to Dogmeat, who immediately took up a defensive posture at her knee.
Lucy nodded again, no longer upset with him at all. The gate screeched as it opened and he likely wouldn’t have heard anything she said anyhow. He pushed her in front of him and nodded to the person standing framed inside the opening. Lucy saw they were a ghoul, but couldn’t tell much more than that. And then it didn’t matter, because her entire line of sight was taken up with the town, such as it was. In some ways, it reminded her of Filly. Shopfronts, food vendors, piles of junk everywhere. But there weren’t many humans. At least, there were few who walked freely. Bounties, she assumed. Much like they were evidently pretending she was.
Cooper pushed her onwards, not roughly, but determinedly, until they reached a long, low building near the center of the outpost. He leaned on his elbow at the window and rang the bell there. Lucy stood next to him, dutifully silent but looking all around. Dogmeat sat down, her tail thumping against Lucy's boot.
“Well shit,” she heard from inside the building. She turned to see another ghoul, grinning at Cooper. “Where you been hidin’ yourself? We thought maybe you’d finally turned.”
“Been underground. My key still here?”
The ghoul...receptionist?...bent down under the counter and rummaged around for a minute, then stood up with a half rusted key in his hand. “Might be picked over. You know how it is.”
“Uh huh. Anythin’ missin’, I’m takin’ it outta the rent. Or your ass.”
The other ghoul swallowed hard and Lucy was hard pressed not to smile. She knew that drawl all too well. If he lost the accent when he was being genuine, he poured it on thick when he was threatening someone. She remembered that in Filly too. And then the ghoul noticed her and his expression went from mild terror to leering in less than a breath.
“Ain’t she a piece?”
“And mine. Don’t get no thoughts now.” And with that, Cooper turned her bodily and headed deeper into town. “Wait,” he growled under his breath before she could say a word. “Just wait.”
She didn’t know what she expected, a room in a larger building perhaps. Some kind of apartment. But the door he unlocked was in a standalone shack, small but sturdy. She didn’t even see any gaps in the walls. Nor did she see any windows. He pushed her inside and closed the door after Dogmeat trotted in, locking it once more. Somewhere he struck a match, a brief flare of brightness, before a steadier glow filled the shack from a lantern.
“This is yours?” she blurted out.
It was as neat as one could manage in the wasteland, with a metal-framed double bed and an actually solid mattress. Pillows, even! There was a dresser, a table and chairs. To the side was a kitchen that wouldn’t have looked out of place in the Vault, compact and efficient, if a little battered. Behind a curtain she could just see the foot of a tub, and she assumed a toilet was in there too. At least she hoped so.
“You sound surprised,” he replied and she jumped because she hadn’t realized he was standing so close behind her. His rumble was right in her ear. “I’ve always been good at makin’ money.”
“So you’ve said.” She remembered that too, from right before he blew Roger’s brains out. Humane as she now knew the act had been, she didn’t like thinking about everything that came after it.
“It ain’t mine, per se. A bit of my bounties pays for the rent and upkeep. Good place to lay low when I need it. Good place to stash marks when they need it. All the comforts of home.”
“Speaking of which…” She turned and held up her cuffed hands with an expectant look.
He smirked. “Well now, I don’ know. I think maybe I like this look on you.”
“Cooper…”
He cackled hard enough that he rocked back on his heels. She made a sound of frustration and before she fully comprehended what she was doing, she’d plowed into him, sending them both backwards into the wall. His hands were tight on her hips where he grabbed her, the heat of him seeping into every place they were touching. Dogmeat chose that moment to get well out of the way.
“That’s playin’ with fire, sweetheart. You sure you wanna do that?”
“Uncuff me, Cooper.”
“Ask me nicely.”
“Now.”
He grinned that crooked grin and his hands grew tighter on her hips. “Ain’t you bossy all of a sudden? How exactly do you plan to get out of this here predicament if I say no?”
She shivered, was aware of it, was aware as well that it was his voice alone that had caused it. She scowled at him because how dare he? How dare he bind her, drag her around, use her as bait, cut off her finger, try to sell her, then upend the rest of her world with just a few words in the last place she expected to see him, and then...and then!...be something she wanted so badly she could just about taste it.
Something simmered in his eyes, she presumed from whatever he saw in hers. And she grew increasingly aware on top of everything else that she’d clenched her fingers into the edges of his duster. Whether she was pulling herself closer or preparing to try and throw him off his feet was the only thing she didn’t know.
“You best mean it, Lucy MacLean,” he murmured, low, gravelly and almost his own voice.
“What?” she whispered.
“You been itchin’ for a fight or a fuck since the day I met you. You’re gonna get one or the other. But I ain’t gonna play nice about it. So you. Best. Mean. It.”
There would be no taking it back. Not that she was bothered by that; she hadn’t been raised to feel shame for a natural desire. Even if the object of her desire was this irradiated creature who drove her to distraction as well as violence. But she wondered a little at what that said about her, that in just one menacingly delivered line he’d given her more thrill than she’d ever felt with anyone else. Certainly Chet had never managed it. He was kind and sweet and innocent in the ways of the real world. Nor Maximus, who knew how some things were, but was shockingly ignorant of others. He’d been sweet too, in his way. Lucy was beginning to suspect that ‘sweet’ was not what she wanted. Now Monty, with his rough edges and notable attempt to kill her, had made her feel something like this. But it didn’t compare to the raging inferno going on inside her right now.
“I mean it, Cooper. I mean it.”
“Aw hell.”
He took hold of her ponytail and yanked her head back. She didn’t even have time to exclaim over it before he was kissing her, if ‘kissing’ was the right term for it. She felt like she was being consumed, and she’d watched this man literally eat another one, so that was saying something. His lips were like the rest of him, softer than she expected for all their rough appearance. His tongue was hot against hers. Her fingers were beginning to cramp with how tightly she had them curled into the leather of his coat, but she barely noticed. At some point, Cooper let go of her hair. He ran his hands down her sides, over her hips, her backside. And then she was being lifted up, and they were turning and her back slammed into the wall while her legs were wrapped around him.
He drew back, just enough to look her in the eye. She felt like she couldn’t catch her breath, but still had the wherewithal to offer him one of his own crooked smirks. “You’ll have to uncuff me now, if you want to get me naked.”
“Oh, you think so?” he retorted in that drawl that she was rapidly coming to recognize was his way of warning that he was up to something. “I got a knife, I can just cut you outta that ugly thing.”
“But then I wouldn’t have any clothes,” she tossed back, proud of herself that she managed to sound somewhat in control of both her breath and heart rate. She could just about predict what he was going to say, if that look in his eye meant anything. He wouldn’t complain about her being naked all the time. “And everyone else would see me too…”
It was a calculated risk, playing on any possible jealousy. The side of him she knew best – the Ghoul – probably didn’t give a fig for such an emotion. But she’d heard the way he snapped at that receptionist ghoul. He was mighty possessive of the things he considered his. Not that she in any way considered herself his. Or wanted to be. No siree. Nope.
Sure enough, he growled right in her face, halting that spiral of false protestation. It was the sound of knowing she had a point, even if he didn’t want to hear it right now. He dropped her legs and she landed on her feet with a thump before she could prepare for it. He had the lock opened on one wrist and was already tugging her suit’s zipper down. She tried to help, but he batted her away, unlatching and tossing her Pip-Boy on the table with remarkable precision, then pulling her arms free without ever taking the cuffs actually off. Her undershirt followed, her bralette with it. Then, in a flash, he cuffed her again.
“Hey!” she cried, indignant.
He stepped back to look at her. A slow smile curled his lips, the kind he usually reserved for loading explosive ammo into his shotgun. He reached out and brushed his thumb across a nipple, making her hiss as the skin tightened almost painfully into a hard peak. He still had his gloves on, and the sensation was intense, half naked as she was and bound to boot, while he stood there fully dressed.
“Last chance to duck, sweetheart.”
The sound that came out of her wasn’t one she’d heard herself make before, at least not in these circumstances. He was grinning, wide and delighted, but she wiped it from his face when she shoved him across the room to topple backwards onto the bed. She clambered over him before he could get back up, her hands already tackling the buckle of his belt despite the cuffs. She pushed his shirt up while she was at it, out of her way and exposing the warped skin of his belly. He didn’t stop her, although that might have been because she’d gotten to the real prize she was after.
His cock fit in her hand perfectly, not so girthy that her fingers couldn’t wrap around it, and long enough that she could enjoy stroking it to full hardness in slow sweeps. He made a strangled noise, part pleasure, part...something else. She didn’t think it was pain. Surprise maybe. She imagined, what with all the violence and bigotry she’d seen up here, that few people had touched him with anything remotely like affection and desire for a long, long time. There was enough play in the cuffs that she could brace her other hand against his abdomen while she stroked him, feeling the way the muscles under his skin trembled.
She wiggled her hips, gaining his attention. “Little help?”
There was that growl again, deep in the back of his throat. She had to admit, she liked the sound of it, even though she knew it should probably frighten her. He shoved and yanked at the Vault suit until it had been pushed down as far as it would go with her legs straddling him. With perhaps more coordination than two people as different as they were should be able to manage, he lifted her forwards and up while she positioned his cock at the right angle. And then she was taking him inside her.
She had a moment to consider that some foreplay might have been warranted for herself. It had been weeks and weeks since her abbreviated marriage, and each and every one of them was filled to the brim with stress. Her body didn’t really seem inclined to cooperate with his intrusion, although she wouldn’t describe it as painful, necessarily. Just...she wasn’t quite ready for it. She didn’t let her impulsiveness deter her, however, and rocked back and forth until her backside landed in his lap. He flexed inside her and she felt a jolt of pure pleasure race from where they were joined and up her spine. She let out a satisfied sigh.
“Oh, you can do better’n that, sweetheart,” Cooper said, and there was that low menace again. If she didn’t, he would. His hands were still clamped around her hips, the gloves rough against the thinner skin there. He jerked her higher up his body and filled her even more. But also better.
“Oh,” she breathed, curling over him to chase the sensation, fanning it like flame with more rocking.
Experimentally she lifted up a little, then dropped back down on his length. She was still tight around him, but growing slicker with every passing second. She started to move a little faster. Cooper hummed, encouraging her to ride him with more confidence. She wished she’d gotten completely out of the suit. If only so she could spread herself on top of him more comfortably. But the restriction around her legs was adding something to the feeling too, along with how she couldn’t do more with her hands than brace them together on his torso for balance.
She knew for a fact that he could throw her off of him any time he wanted. The fact that he hadn’t spurred her on. Take, said the wasteland. Nobody’s going to wait for you to ask permission. It wasn’t about consent, this she knew she had. Again, he was perfectly capable of stopping it if he didn’t want it. And he’d even told her that she’d better mean it because he wouldn’t hold back. But for now, for this moment, he was letting her take. It made her bolder, made her rut him into her deeper, harder.
The pair of them were panting with the exertion and occasionally other little noises slipped out. Hers were kept quiet by habit from a life in the Vault where privacy was rare. His, on the other hand, she thought might be an effort to swallow them down so he didn’t seem needy. But he was, oh he was. She could tell in how the gloves were digging into her, how his eyes were closed, his head thrown back in abandon.
She had a sudden urge to hold him down by his exposed throat, to make him feel powerless for a change, if only in play. She raised herself up, trailing her bound hands up his chest as she fell back onto his cock and made him outright groan. And then the links between the cuffs were across his throat and her hands were cupping his face and his eyes had shot open to meet hers. There was an instant of something violent in his gaze, something retaliatory, but then she rolled her hips against him and laid the lightest pressure against the cuffs and he choked out a gasp and bucked inside her. And all at once everything distilled into a fine, sharp point for an endless second before she came apart at the seams. Her orgasm went on for a long time, purging every angry thought and vicious, necessary deed from her mind. Her body flooded with relief, wrung boneless with sensation so overwhelming she forgot to breathe.
She started to collapse as aftershocks made her twitch, and she drew her hands away from his throat because she needed to catch herself on them and didn’t want to actually hurt him.
It was all he needed to wrestle back control from her, rolling her effortlessly onto her back, her head half off the mattress, the pillow shoved sideways next to her. He jerked her back onto the bed as he sat up on his knees, and she realized he’d done all that without even withdrawing from her. In fact he was still pumping into her even as he maneuvered her legs onto his shoulder. He slowed inside her, but she didn’t think it was in any gentleness. Oh no, it was simply so he could tug the Vault suit down to her knees, leaving her ankles together as he wedged himself into the circle of her legs.
“You wanna play, darlin’, we’ll play.”
“I…”
She didn’t get any farther than that before he was thrusting hard into her, leaving her breathless and mewling, her legs spread wide but trapped in the suit and her boots. He raised her arms over her head, using that leverage to pin her hands in the cuffs while supporting himself. It changed the angle of his cock inside her, making her hips raise up to meet him. He lowered his head and nipped at her exposed skin, his teeth riding the edge of too much everywhere he could reach. Each nipple received the same rough treatment but she was enjoying it too much to stop him.
She couldn’t keep quiet now, the pressure against her body too strong and the feeling too much to bite back. His bulk over her blocked the light of the lantern and she couldn’t see his face anymore. But it wasn’t like she could focus on it anyway. She was having a hard enough time keeping her wits about her as the onslaught continued. The position had lit a fire at the base of her spine and she wanted it to ignite. She wanted to come again. She could hear herself begging in between gasping moans and harsh exhalations.
Cooper paid no heed, or didn’t seem to. The pace didn’t change other than to get even deeper, hitting something at this angle that made little sparks flare with every pounding impact. It was so close to being enough to topple her over the peak and yet, she didn’t. She hung there, right on the edge, her breath coming short, her hips aching, nipples raw, her wrists feeling the metal cuffs digging into them as he pulled her arms even higher over her head, stretching her out as much as possible in this contorted position. She was glad now that her legs were bound up in the suit; she wouldn’t have been able to keep them around him under her own strength. And still he pounded at her, rough and hard and perfect.
He leaned down close, his lips trailing across her jaw towards her ear. “C’mon now, darlin’. Let go of it.”
The tension inside her snapped at the sound of his rumbling growl and she shouted with each spasm of excruciating bliss as she came. He let go of her hands and sat upright, holding her hips as he drove into her so deep it was nearly painful. The pulsing of her body was joined with his, a feedback loop as he spilled into her, holding her so tight she’d have bruises.
It was a long time before she felt like she’d gotten her breath back. By then he’d pulled out of her. He unlaced her boots and tossed them over the side of the bed, then drew the suit the rest of the way off her legs, leaving her sprawled. He was chuckling to himself as she lay there, spent. Tears had gathered and tracked down her temples and she turned her face on the mattress to wipe them away. She didn’t even remember when she started to cry, nor did she completely understand why she was.
Cooper had gotten up and came back to the bed with a rag. He wiped her down, and for a moment she tried to stop him. It was too intimate, even after what they’d just done. But he pushed her back and continued, leaving no part of her center still coated by his come, inside or out. She could feel the mild burn of it and that was enough to overcome her sensibilities about him being the one doing the cleaning. She hadn’t considered the rads, although obviously he had.
“Cooper,” she rasped when he was nearly done. “The cuffs.”
“Yeah, yeah, gimme a sec.”
She would laugh if she wasn’t utterly exhausted now that the fury that enabled this whole thing had burned out entirely. As it was, she lolled on the mattress, wishing she had the pillow actually under her head and not just sort of jammed against her shoulder. She could probably reach it herself, but that would take energy and focus she simply didn’t have at the moment. He snorted when he saw and sort of lifted her up to drop her on the other one. She didn’t have the energy to get indignant about that either, and it died further when he pulled off his glove to wipe at her eyes, first one then the other.
“I don’t know why…” she started, but he shushed her.
“Sometimes it’s just that big a feelin’.”
He started to pull his hand away and she grabbed for it. There, along the middle knuckle of his index finger, the seam not nearly as well blended as her own ‘replacement’, was the digit he’d cut from her. Flesh, blood and bone melded together, making her finger an indelible part of him now. She wanted to be angry still, but couldn’t find it. Deeper than mere trust, into the marrow. Although she admitted she might be overthinking it. It could also just have been because it was his trigger finger and he needed it. She knew how the Ghoul was about feeling sentimental. But why had he kept it in the first place? She looked up at him and he stared back at her.
“An honest exchange, huh?” she finally said. “Is that all it was?” Is that all this was?
He looked away then, ostensibly searching his pockets although she didn’t seriously think he had misplaced the key to the handcuffs. Not a man like him. He found it and gently took her wrists to unlock her. The skin bore imprints from the metal, but they hadn’t cut her. They would fade. He kept running his thumb across the marks in a soothing manner, something in his eyes that she couldn’t quite figure out. It was almost like he was ashamed. She watched him, wondering what was going on in his head. But before she could ask, he stood up and shrugged out of the duster. Then out of his vest. He kicked off his boots and laid his belt on the table next to her Pip-Boy. From the dresser he pulled out a blanket, patched and threadbare, but large enough to cover the whole bed.
He got in next to her and rolled her close, spreading the blanket over both of them. She felt Dogmeat jump up to the foot of the bed behind her knees. Snug as a bug in a rug, she thought.
“It wasn’t just that,” he said, and she’d almost forgotten what they were talking about. Then she felt that finger running along the curve of her back. The nail on it was still rounded, not ragged like the rest of hers now were. Even the half dead one. “I’ll tell ya the story sometime, but not tonight.”
“Okay. Cooper…”
“Hmm?”
“Merry Christmas.”
He wheezed a sound that might have been a laugh. “Well, it sure came with some unexpected gifts, I’ll give it that.”
“Can we do this again?”
“You want to?”
“Oh yes.”
“Hmm. Might need to get your head examined there, Luce.”
Luce. No one had called her that in years. It sounded...nice, coming from him in the afterglow of the best sex she’d ever had. She burrowed into him, nestling her head under his chin. She let the warmth of the feeling fill all the empty spaces she hadn’t known were there.
“I told you I meant it.”
His arm came around her, secure and solid and strong. He sighed into the low light, fading fast as the lantern started to gutter. She had no idea what time it was, and she didn’t much care either. She could sleep anywhere, anywhen now.
“Get some sleep, darlin’. We’ll see if you still feel that way in the light o’day.”
She knew she would.
She’d done something unforgivable. She’d let him in. Into her marrow, as sure as hers mixed with his from that damned finger.
She’d fallen in love with Cooper Howard. With the Ghoul. Part and parcel, one and the same.
“Goodnight, Cooper.”
She closed her eyes and snuggled in real close, wishing he’d taken everything else off too, but understanding why he didn’t. He wasn’t there yet. It would be something to work up to. They’d laid each other bare enough for one day. Sleep was rising to claim her, but she still felt his lips against her forehead and then the tip of her nose. She tilted her head back blindly and he laid his lips on hers. Gently, so gently.
“’Nite, Lucy.”