summary: robby comes to visit you while you chaperone the peds department prom.
word count: 3k
warnings/tags: allusions to cancer/illness, mentions of vomiting, age gap, resident/attending relationship, first kiss
Friday was your least favorite day of the week. Friday nights, in particular. People seemed to let themselves loose at the end of the week, let their inhibitions free from their cages and do things they would regularly never even think of doing. Stupid, stupid things. You didn’t think you’d have enough fingers and toes to list off the dumbass dares and challenges you’ve heard as excuses as to why they end up in the ER over the years of your residency. Impressing a girl. Impressing friends. High off their asses from pens and coincidentally ‘forgetting’ to wear a seatbelt while doing sixty in a twenty.
Stupid, stupid people doing stupid, stupid things.
You were at work this Friday evening, but not in the emergency department where you felt you belonged like a soldier in line. Tonight, you found yourself in the hospital’s cafeteria, which had been transformed in a wash of color and mood lighting that reminded you of a cheesy coming of age movie they used to show on Disney Channel. The overhead fluorescents had been covered with long, thick strips of colored fabric to alter their hue, streamers have been taped along the sides of tables and the walls, and music is controlled from a decorated DJ’s booth near the corner. Images of sea creatures and handmade decorations littered the cafeteria, making it appear as though a cartoon ocean swept through the place and left behind its evidence on purpose.
The PTMC’s prom night was, in your opinion, the cheesiest thing you’d seen in a long, long while.
The peds department—and the dozens of parents who’d spent their children’s entire lives within those walls—had recently approached Gloria with the idea of giving the kids a prom, given the majority of them were too sick to attend a real one. She’d been hesitant, the looming threat of a dwindling budget swinging over her head like a blade, but rumor was the idea of good press was too good for her to pass up. Thus, the moms had all gotten together while their children slept through treatments, spending their restless hours stitching together table runners and decorations and squawking over ideas they’d screengrabbed from Pinterest.
Of course, prom night was a hunting ground for preteens with eyes for one another (even if some of them were confined to wheelchairs and bound to IV poles), and supervision was required. Names were drawn from each department, and lo and behold, your name had been picked from the hat. You had the sneaking suspicion this was payback from Gloria after you’d refused to give a statement to the press a few months back after a mass pileup event.
You shifted back and forth on the balls of your feet as you watched the scene before you, hands held restlessly behind your back. Pop music you faintly recognized from the radio and fan edits you picked up from passing the interns on their breaks thumped in your ears—all mom–approved, of course. You stood by yourself near the door leading into the hall, fingers twisting in the back of your jacket over your scrubs. Despite the break you tried to look at this as, you were antsy to get back to the Pitt, to throw yourself back into the fray with your regular coworkers. You had always thrived on pressure and high stakes, a constant steady of calmness you weren’t able to control.
Maybe that was why, since your first year of your residency, you’d become Doctor Robinavitch’s right hand.
It wasn’t really a secret Robby held you closer than the other residents and interns. He barked your name like a rehearsed speech when he needed a steady hand he could trust, made sure you were among the watching eyes when he demonstrated a new technique. When he wasn’t around, people usually looked to you for direction; by extension, you were Robby. At his hip, at his side, your hands under his when everything was on the line and your scalpel wasn’t cutting deep enough.
You’d tried to tell yourself, these years, it was just professional. He was your senior attending, for god’s sake. The only reason he kept you so close was because he trusted you, because you were good at your job, because he wanted to see you succeed. But between shifts… those incidents posed a different perspective. A drive home here or there. A late coffee shared in the early, unholy hours of the morning after you’d both clocked off and were too wired to go home despite the aching in your bones, your backs, your hearts. You’d cooked him dinner once, on his birthday. Kosher.
He hadn’t told you until months later that he’d been so touched you even remembered his birthday, he didn’t want to spoil your effort by admitting he hadn’t followed kosher rules since he was a kid.
Your heart had become soft for your senior attending, despite how much you’d attempted to toughen it out, to force yourself to acknowledge he was old enough to be your father, to remind yourself he was your boss and nothing would ever happen. Still, when times were quiet like now and your mind was unburdened with charts and vitals and an order of which patient got priority, you allowed yourself to fantasize over the what-ifs you held so dear.
You watched as, across the cafeteria, a mother and father insisted on taking a picture of their son before he joined his friends by the sugar-free refreshments table. The boy’s head was absent of hair, his brow bones naked, and he clutched onto an IV pole with one hand while the other tugged at the collar of his suit with an exasperated glance to the camera presented toward him. He offered a half-hearted smile, clearly embarrassed, and once he was dismissed, he quickly skittered himself and his pole toward where a group of other children waited.
“Hey.”
You glanced up, having been too lost in the prom and your own private thoughts to realize someone had been approaching you. Your heart gave something like a shortened, excited couple thumps behind your ribs as you watched Robby come to settle beside you, arms crossed loosely over his broad chest. He’d had to lower himself to near your ear to be heard over the music and cacophony of the prom, and as he straightened himself, he gave a small tilt of his head toward you.
“Hey,” you said, your shoulders relaxing slightly as you stepped closer to be heard. “What are you doing here? Don’t they need you in the Pitt?”
Robby gave a noncommittal shrug of his shoulder, the stethoscope slung around his neck glinting in the pink light that played with shadows across his tired features. “They’ll be fine for a few minutes,” he said. “It’s mostly frat kids piled up from a hazing thing.”
“I’ll trade you.”
“Oh, come on.” He shifted his gaze out across the cafeteria, watching as a few kids awkwardly danced, moving their bodies in their gowns and tuxes they were so unaccustomed to wearing in comparison to their hospital sheets. “You’re telling me you’re not having the time of your life down here at the bottom of the sea?”
You felt a smile tug your lips upward as you followed his gaze. A girl carefully spun around another in her wheelchair despite an overprotective parent calling for them to be careful. Above them, from the ceiling, clear plastic baubles supposed to resemble bubbles had been dangled from fishing line and swayed with the shuffling underneath.
You said over the music, “I’m more of a black and white theme girl, to be honest.”
“Oh, so you like the classics.” Robby gave you one of those exhausted, gentle smiles he seemed to reserve only for you, the crows’ feet at the corners of his eyes crinkling softly and the apple of his throat bobbing once. “And yet you never seem to be around when it comes time for the annual charity balls.”
“Like you are, either.”
It was true, as much as you were hesitant to admit it. You and Robby were both in your element when wrist–deep in bloodied wounds and extracting bullets from flesh, but formal, public events in which eyes would be upon you seemed to scare you both off like animals from a trap. You were alike in that way, preferring to work behind the scenes and shy from the spotlight when it began to swing in your direction. This—standing on the sidelines in the shadows—was where you were both comfortable.
For a long few minutes, the pair of you stood there and watched only half–vigilantly as the peds kids enjoyed their prom. Exhausted parents clinging to hope sat at the plastic–covered tables along the far wall, phones held up in recording and chins planted in chins as they watched their babies. As tacky as you found the entire party, you had to admire their hard work and resilience. It wasn’t easy, you were sure, being in their shoes.
Beside you, Robby spoke again. Just as you did in the ER, you snapped up to pay attention, hoping he didn’t notice how quickly you jolted to. “You ever go to prom?” he asked.
“Hah.” You shook your head, a rueful smile playing your lips. “No. It was never really my scene.”
“You’re kidding.” Robby glanced down at you, shifting his weight as he fixed you with one of those incredulous stares he gave when he didn’t quite believe what he was hearing. “I would’ve figured you were prom queen or something.”
The idea made you laugh. Actually laugh, your hand coming up to wave. “Oh, absolutely not,” you replied over the music as it thrummed and thumped and hummed through the reverberating cafeteria. “No, I, ah…” You hesitated for just a few moments before you shook your head. “I wasn’t ever very popular in school. Didn’t have all too many friends. I guess I didn’t really see the point of wasting all that money on a dress and going when no one was going to hang out with me.”
It was a bit of a pathetic admission, and you immediately turned away, feeling heat rising up your neck. Good god, you seriously didn’t just tell him that. Could you get any more desperate?
Robby was quiet for a moment, and all you could do was look at how closely your shoes were fidgeting next to his there on the shimmering tile floor. “That’s too bad,” he said finally, arms flexing themselves beneath his scrub sleeves before settling again, still crossed. “But I see the reasoning.”
You lifted your head, gaze lingering for a fraction of a moment on a child hunched over a book at one of the tables instead of mingling with the others before you looked up at him. God, how badly you wanted to reach up and touch the scruff of his beard on his jaw, to let your hand rest on the nape of his neck and thread your fingers through his short hair. “Did you go?”
At your reciprocated question, he gives something like a low chuckle of a laugh, nostalgia flickering behind his dark eyes despite the tinted light from overhead. “Yeah,” he mused, reaching up to scratch briefly at his stubbled throat, drawing your attention there. “Drank too much spiked punch, threw up outside the gym, and then went back in and danced with my girlfriend like nothing happened. Didn’t understand why she didn’t want to kiss me.”
A soft bark of laughter escaped you. “Can’t fathom as to why she didn’t want to stick her tongue down your acidic throat,” you said, then mentally scolded yourself for picturing sticking your own tongue into his mouth and licking up the sounds he most certainly would gruff out from the feeling.
“God, what a shitty night that was.” Robby shook his head, watching the little prom for another long few moments. After what seemed to be both an eternity and just a few seconds, he turned his head over to face you. He studied you long enough that you looked at him questioningly, your heart climbing up your esophagus. He hesitated for a moment, then gave another rough sound of amusement and extended a hand between the two of you.
Amused and slightly confused, you furrowed your brows and gave a small smile. Nonetheless, you placed your hand in his, rough callouses sliding against your skin. Your smile widened with both alarm and thrill, you gave a small gasp when he attempted to pull you closer. “Wh–Robby, what are you doing?”
“Oh, come on,” he said, his eyes soft like he was tiptoeing a line you each had been caressing oh so carefully these last months or so. “When are we going to get another chance to fix our crappy prom experiences?” He nodded his head at you. “Or, I guess, lack thereof.”
Instinctively, you glanced over your shoulder toward the cafeteria, your insides suddenly dancing with the nerves that someone would see you. Not that you were doing anything wrong—you weren’t, not really. Just two coworkers playfully taking part in what was supposed to be a fun night, a night for forgetting medical woes and mounting anxieties and the inescapable knowledge of what was coming. No one seemed to be paying you any mind. Everyone’s attention was on the kids… especially when the DJ switched tracks and a slower, sappy pop love song began to croon over the speakers.
Robby tilted his head to the side and you wanted to melt right there before him. “See?” he teased you over the annoying wail of the singer’s rasp. “They’re even playing our song.”
Finally, you forced your nerves back and gave a small, nervous smile, allowing him to pull you gently closer. Your free hand reached up to his shoulder. His found your waist, touching only a necessary, respectful amount. No more, no less. God, how you wished it was more. More, more, more, harder, rougher, closer, tighter. “I wasn’t aware we had a song.”
As your and Robby’s feet began to gently move—not dancing, not really, just sort of swaying yourselves back and forth—he nodded his head in what looked like defeat. “Well, if we did,” he said, “it wouldn’t be this crap.”
You laughed again. You’d been doing that a lot lately around him. Even after long, grueling shifts when all you wanted to do was curl up and forget everything bad in the world, everything that let people get so, so hurt and scarred and landed them in your trauma rooms. Despite everything, despite his own demons that flickered in his darkened gaze sometimes when no one else was looking, he still managed to make you laugh. How ironic. How perfectly and wonderfully delightful.
Neither of you said anything more. You only rocked gently back and forth, clutching each other gently, carefully, so mindful of that final line you’d been leaning across for what seemed forever now. The music carried your heartbeats as one, and, as the lyrics droned on and the beat bounced back and forth, refusing to pick a tempo, you felt yourself drifting a few inches closer. Shuffling, bringing your chest to ever so kindly press against his. In response, his hand on your waist drifted to the small of your back and encouraged you even closer, ever closer. Your fingers slipped to the base of his neck, thumb gently tracing the line of his scrub collar.
You were sure Robby was able to feel how violently your heart was pounding. There was no way he couldn’t pick up the beat–beat–beat of your frantic pulse against his own. Was his jumping, too? You couldn’t tell beyond your own, and you weren’t sure if you wanted to know the answer. Your skin was lining with goosebumps and when your hips pressed to his and his grip tightened carefully around yours, you couldn’t take it any more.
“Robby…” you heard yourself murmur, just barely audible over the song beginning to wind its way toward a closing bridge. You weren’t even sure he heard you. You didn’t know if you wanted him to hear you.
But then—impossibly, amazingly, perfectly—you felt him press his lips to the top of your hair. “I know, sweetheart.”
I know, I know, I know.
Before you could stop yourself, before you could think of any consequences of what you were about to do, you tilted your head up and connected your lips to his. It was short, too short, but you wanted to give him an out if suddenly you’d read everything wrong and you’d jumped too far over that line. Yet when you tried to pull away, Robby’s lips chased yours, reconnecting your mouths before they even had a chance to part. Sensations like fireworks rocketed through your veins when you realized, yes, fuck yes, he wanted it, too. You hadn’t been imagining this, you hadn’t been delusional, you hadn’t been—
Robby gave a sound from the back of his throat and pressed his lips against yours a touch harder, the hand on your back pressing you even closer to him. He wanted more. More of this, more of you. And by god, did you want to give it to him.
But you were at work. Not only at work, but at a prom for the peds kids. This was their time, not yours.
Reluctantly, you pulled yourself away and panted softly as you peered up at him. Your eyes found his through the pink and blue lighting, and, just like when you were working as a well–oiled pair of cogs in crisis, you were able to read one another’s meanings. Later. Later.
I will have you later.
Robby’s throat bobbed once in that perfect way it did, his eyes flicking over you in a way that made your heart patter. “…Let me drive you home tonight?” he said.
You nodded quicker than you would have liked, but you couldn’t bring yourself to care in that hue-tinted moment. “Always.”
warnings: slightly sub!gabriel (but mostly a switch) teasing, wing kink, smut, language, maybe overstim if you look hard enough?
Gabriel had been around since creation. Hell, even before that. During early stages of his life, he had been too busy to think about pursuing any sort of romantic interests; doing his father’s dirty work, delivering messages, avoiding fights between his siblings, whatever kept him busy.
In recent years, the occasional hooker or porn star was enough to suffice. He’d messed around with Kali, but there wasn’t any emotional attachment there. He preferred to be constantly on the go. That was until he met you.
Gabriel was instantly drawn to you. He tried, tried so hard to avoid it, for your own safety. If the wrong people found out he had a soft spot for you, that’d make you a target. But you’d stuck to him like glue. Neither of you could deny it. It didn’t matter what the Winchesters or anybody thought; he was your archangel. You were his person.
Now here you were, on top of him, peppering kisses along his jawline, fingers weaving their way through his soft, golden feathers. His hands gripped the bedsheets, and he let out a long, husky sigh. You circled your hips against his, grinding against him, earning a low groan.
“Sugar, please.” Gabriel whined, pushing his hips up at yours, desperate for any friction.
You weren’t about to give in yet, wanting to see how far he’d unravel. Sitting up, you looked over him, your eyes meeting his. His eyes were dark and wild with lust, staring into yours with need. The messy sight of him beneath you was almost enough to send you over the edge; almost. His hair was disheveled, breathing uneven.
He had no idea he was capable of wanting something so badly. You leaned back down over him, kissing below his ear, gently sucking the skin before moving to his mouth. He leaned up, meeting your lips with his own. You could almost taste the desire on him. His tongue made its way into your mouth, clashing with yours. When you came up for breath, you moved back down to his collarbone, kissing and leaving a line across him.
You moved your fingers further up toward the base of his wings, weaving through feathers and massaging deep into the muscle, earning a whimper from him. Now that was driving him crazy. Gabriel didn’t show his wings to anyone, apart from casting shadows, which was more a display of power. You were the first person to see them in all of their glory, which was probably the deepest form of trust he could ever give.
And here you were, using them to your advantage. Each movement across his feathers sent pleasure coursing through his very essence. He groaned as you hit a particularly sensitive spot, his grace stirring within him. Your name rolled from his tongue as if it were something from the gospel. It was almost too much. The room felt too hot, despite the fact that he was supposed to be unbothered by temperature. He wanted, no, needed more.
Part of him wanted to flip you over and fuck you right into the mattress until you couldn’t even think. On the other hand, he wanted to melt right there. He could die happily right then and there, with you on top of him, giving him your full, undivided attention.
Sex was not something archangels needed. God’s creatures and lust just didn’t mix. Sure, it was a decent outlet to blow off steam, but for the longest time Gabriel never even pursued it. When he did, it was just that; to blow off steam on some pornstar. It was never something he needed.
But at this moment, he couldn’t think about anything else. He needed you more than anything, as if it were a basic survival need; and in his state of mind, it might actually be. For the first time in centuries- perhaps ever, his mind was blank with pure, unfiltered lust.
“Y/N, I need you. Please.” Gabriel begged.
Nothing else mattered but you in that moment. His hands moved to your hips with a grip that, in any other circumstance, would hurt. You knew you’d be waking up the next morning with fingertip bruises. He had never wanted anything more in his entire life. You sat up, moving your hands down to his pants, finding his hard cock pressed against the fabric.
“Is that all for me, Gabe?” There was an edge of humor in your tone. It wasn’t very often you found yourself in this position. It was almost a humbling thought, that one of the world’s most powerful forces was a whimpering mess beneath you.
He pulled you back down on top of him. “Sugar, all of me is for you,” And there was not a single doubt about that.
Gabriel sat up, keeping you in his lap. His patience was gone, and he could barely even think straight. He didn’t have to put any thought into it, and just like that, and his pants, along with your own clothes were gone, leaving nothing to separate the two of you. He was quick to work, lifting his hand up to grab your breasts, massaging and thumbing over your sensitive nipples. He placed deep kisses at your neck, his molten hot cock between your thighs begging for friction.
He flipped you over, so that he towered over you. He spent the next few moments with his full attention on you, kissing every sensitive spot on your neck. Each little sound you made fueled him on.
“Gabriel..” You whined. Every ounce of you wanted him, more than anything.
“Oh, now you want more? Hm?” He replied, bringing two fingers down your your folds, rubbing back and forth. You were soaked. It was his turn to tease you now, and he wasn’t planning on giving in easily. He returned to your breasts, leaving soft kisses all over.
His fingers circled your clit, his touch light as a feather. You bucked your hips towards him, desperate for more. He groaned at your need, kissing and sucking at your neck, and at the same time, slipped two fingers into you. You tossed your head back, an embarrassingly loud moan filling the air. If this was the reaction two fingers got, you were in for a long night.
“You’re so good for me, sugar.” He smirked, curling his fingers to hit just the right spot. You cried out, the pleasure coursed through your body. He repeated the motion, slipping in and out of you, his thumb occasionally rubbing at your clit.
You reached up to grab something- anything, and your fingers met with his wings again. You gripped the feathers, pulling softly and he emitted a nearly inhuman sound. He’s starting to feel possessive, and it’s both scary and invigorating. His grace stirs deep within him, more than it has in a very long time.
Gabriel’s breath is shaky, and you aren’t sure you’ve ever heard him like this. When it comes to his wings, this is intimacy beyond the regular sex you have. In this moment, you’re touching him; his actual self, not just his vessel. That’s a rather profound realization. His fingers pushed deeper into her, curling again at just the right spot.
“Oh- Fuck, Gabriel..” You murmur, and he cups your jaw with his other hand, his mouth covering yours as he takes his fingers out of you. He stroked his cock, coating it with your juices. He guided himself to just the right place, leaving it right at your entrance. Your fingertips dug into the muscle of his wings, and electricity crackled through the air as he moaned your name. He rubbed his cock against your clit.
Gabriel bucked his hips forward with one swift motion, his hot cock filling you completely. You gasped at the intrusion, and his breathing hitched. For a moment there was silence between the two of you. You wiggled your hips, adjusting to him.
“You okay, sugar?” He murmured, beginning at a slow pace. There were no words, your mind blank with pleasure. You could only moan his name, bucking your hips up to push him in deeper. You could only hope he got the point.
And that he did, he planted his mouth onto yours, withdrawing his cock completely. His tongue danced with yours, and he thrust back into you, filling you to the brim once more. This time, he wasted no time. He set a hard, fast pace, fucking you damn near senseless. The room filled with the sounds of his groans, your moans, and skin on skin.
You moved your hands further up the base of his wings, massaging between the feathers, earning a whine at your touch. Gabriel couldn’t stand it. His grace whorled deep inside of him, and for once, he knew he wouldn’t last long. He reached down between the two of you, thumbing at your clit. You practically melted at the extra touch, pleasure coursing through your body in waves.
You recognized a familiar buildup deep within your core; you were close, and Gabriel knew it as well. He knew by the way you gripped his feathers, by the way your moans grew breathy, the way your hips bucked up at him.
“I’ve got you, sugar,” He coaxed. He was almost there too. The pressure built up, more and more, until you couldn’t bear it anymore. You cried out, clinging to him as your orgasm rocked your body, bucking your hips up at him. He following you quickly, his cock twitched, and he gave a couple more hard thrusts.
Gabriel cried out your name, followed by words in a language you’d never heard. Hot spurts of cum coated your insides, and he groaned, pressing his forehead against your chest.
The two of you lay there panting, and you relaxed into the bed, letting out a deep sigh. Gabriel rolled over to the side, pulling you into his arms. He stared down at you with dark, honey gold eyes, analyzing your movements.
“You okay, Y/N?” He murmured, pressing soft kisses to your forehead. You looked up to him, nothing but love in your expression, and nodded. You met his lips with your own, kissing him slowly.
“I love you, Gabe.” You whispered back at him. He didn’t respond, but he didn’t have to. There was no question to how he felt about you, and he had just cemented that fact. You could die happy in that moment, and he was in the same boat.
anyway the funniest detail from the Fallout show is the fact that when Lucy is threatening the organ dealers in the super duper mart, there's a tv next to them playing security footage and it's just cooper laying facedown in the parking lot
Tags: Teasing, Flirting, Developing Relationships, Injury, Kissing, Cunnilingus,
Synopsis: It had been apparent from the moment you met him that The Ghoul was Cooper Howard, your favorite actor. He had no idea that you knew who he was, so how could you not have some fun with it?
Author’s Note: i’ve watched nothing but bridgerton recently and now i keep finding myself writing the way they speak
also i’ve got no clue how radiation and water interact to just pretend what i wrote is true okay?
also if you got the notif for the first upload of this fic, no you didn't :)
Taglist: @ancientbeing10 @alex-does-art-things
The poster you stood in front of was in remarkable shape, with only hints of discoloration littering the page. The frame that held it had stood the test of time and came out victorious, with only a few scratches across the glass to show for it. A fond smile grew as you read the words emblazoned across it: The Man from Deadhorse.
A man was also pictured riding on the back of his trusted steed, pistol in hand, aiming it toward an unpictured outlaw. A man that you knew to be Cooper Howard, the actor who you’d grown quite fond of during your life in the vault. You’re sure you’ve watched his entire discography or at least all his films that your vault had, which was a significant amount.
So when said actor captured you after being exiled from your vault, albeit a little less human-looking, you couldn’t believe it. It took a second to clock it, but you managed to piece two and two together when you heard him talk and watched how he wielded his gun. Hell, he was still wearing the same clothes from the movie whose poster you stood in front of. It hadn’t been that difficult.
Of course, he had no idea you knew who he was. You didn’t utter a word, not from when he first captured you to when he begrudgingly let you tag alongside him or even when you’d formed a bond. Friends, maybe not, but you trusted each other, and that was enough.
You couldn’t help but admire the man on the poster, if just for a few more moments. Anyone could see that Cooper Howard was handsome, and his charisma added to that. As incredible of an actor as he was, you would admit that you didn’t watch his films just for his skills. He’d been your childhood crush, following you into your teenage years.
And maybe it was still around, lingering at the back of your mind. Perhaps that would explain the butterflies in your stomach whenever you looked at The Ghoul. Even though his face had completely changed, you still believed he was just as handsome as before becoming a ghoul. His charisma and wit had just become sharper, and even though he sneered more than smiled, you still recognized that grin from the movies.
You snuck a glance at your traveling partner, Cooper Howard, The Ghoul. He had yet to see the poster, or maybe he chose to ignore it. Either way, his back was to you, rifling through the desks of the building the two of you had entered. It was becoming evident now that this place was a movie theatre, someplace you thought, until now, they had entirely made up to mess with you in the vault. They knew your love of movies; why not tell you there was a place where you could see them on giant screens?
“You gonna stare at that fuckin’ poster all night, or are ya gonna help me?” So he had chosen to ignore it, then.
You refrained from sighing, not wanting to annoy the man. Instead, you got to work on the other side of the theatre, where a few doors stood. Glancing into the first room, you found it filled with garbage. Literal garbage. Bags were piled from floor to ceiling, and even after all the time that had passed, it still smelled. Holding back a gag, you shut the door as best you could. Gross.
The next door was a little more pleasant. It was a bathroom with three stalls lining the rightmost wall and a few sinks. A first aid kit had been bolted on the wall, and a slight, victorious noise left you when you found two stimpacks, a roll of bandages, and a small canister of water. You quickly deposited those into your bag before continuing to the stalls.
Two were empty, but the third had something in the toilet. When you peered in, you chuckled. A teddy bear sat on the edge, a newspaper in its hands, a pair of broken glasses on its face. No matter how vicious the surface world was, people still managed to find humor in the small things, and you cherished it.
The third and final room was locked, so taking out a bobby pin, you got to work unlocking it. It took you some time, as you weren’t nearly as quick as The Ghoul was, but eventually, the door swung open. Inside was what you presumed to be once an office, a desk with a terminal flush against the wall. A large safe was tucked into the corner, nearly hidden by bookshelves. Grinning at your new prize, you bent down in front of it, pulling the bobby pin and screwdriver back out.
If the door took some time, the safe took even longer. A small pile of broken bobby pins had started to grow at your feet, and your back was beginning to ache from bending over for so long. You could feel that you were close; you just needed to move it a little more to the right…
Snap!
“Motherfucker…” you grumbled under your breath, adding another pin to your collection. The idea of admitting defeat flashed through your mind, but you shook it away. You needed to prove this to yourself.
And to The Ghoul.
You heard the sound of footsteps drawing closer, stopping when they reached the room you were currently in. You didn’t have to turn around to know who it was; you could hear his spurs. “The hell is takin’ you so long?” His gruff voice stopped you as you were about to insert another bobby pin.
“This fuckin’ safe,” you sighed, resuming your attempt at lockpicking. Your back was really hurting now, and so you got down onto your knees, which helped a little. The concrete floor was uncomfortable, but sitting offered some respite, and you bent forward, returning to work. You had expected The Ghoul to have already left, so you were startled when you felt him crouch beside you.
His gaze was locked onto the safe when you glanced at him, and he shifted almost nervously beside you. Weird. “Lemme do it.” His tone held no room for argument, yet you still shook your head at him.
“No, I’ve got this.”
“You’re gonna run outta fuckin’ bobby pins before ya open it,” he jabbed, nudging the pile with his foot. You didn’t bother to hide the glare you sent him.
“Then I’ll just take yours.” You were pleasantly surprised when you turned the lock and were met with resistance an inch before it had turned all the way. You were close.
“Oh, I’d like to see ya try, sweetheart.”
“Maybe I already have.” You had shifted the pin to the right and were met resistance way later, and a victorious smile grew on your face. “C’mom, baby, open up for me,” you whispered, voice dangerously low, and you missed the way the man beside you shifted even more.
He didn’t offer any more arguments, and you let out a small laugh when the safe door finally opened. You’d barely gotten a glimpse of the contents inside when you saw a gloved hand sneak inside. You smacked it away, glaring at him. “Open your own fuckin’ safe,” you chastized.
He matched your expression, human-looking eyes glaring daggers into you, but you didn’t let up. It was a quick standoff, but he eventually backed down, not before muttering something under his breath. You didn’t hear what he said, but you didn’t care.
Opening the door further allowed more light in, allowing you to see your prize. A stack of pre-war bills sat on the bottom, and you tucked them into your bag. There was a silver locket, which you also grabbed, knowing you could get some caps for it. A few unlabeled chem bottles were on the top shelf, all added to your bag.
But you were most excited about the revolver tucked behind all the chems. It was heavy, heavier than the pistol on your hip, and in surprisingly good condition. The barrel's metal was mostly unscratched and shiny in the dim light. The wood grip, a deep brown oak, was cool in your hand, and it contrasted beautifully with the steel of the rest of the gun.
You raised a brow when he held a hand out expectantly, moving the gun a bit closer to your chest. “Are you gonna give it back?”
He let out a deep exhale. “Yes,” he responded before making a ‘give me’ motion with his upturned hand.
After some hesitation, you set it in his palm, observing as he tested it in his hand. His expression was difficult to read as he evaluated it, his eyes carefully roaming the gun. You had to bite back a laugh when he raised the gun to the right of him; he looked like he did on the poster you just saw.
You must’ve done a worse job than you thought, holding back your laugh because he was fixing you with another glare. “Sorry,” you began between chuckles, “it’s just… you look like the guy on the poster.”
The Ghoul was good at hiding his emotions, and his face remained unreadable as he glared at you, but you swore you saw a bit of alarm behind the fire in his eyes. “Do I, now?” He asked, seemingly unbothered.
“It’s not a bad thing,” you teased, an idea forming that made you grin. “I’d take it as a compliment, being compared to as handsome a man as Cooper Howard.”
The heat in his stare dimmed, replaced with a hint of surprise. He blinked at you for a moment, unsure what to make of your words. You continued. “What, you thought I watched his movies just for his acting skills?” You were careful not to use the word you, not wanting to let him in on the secret.
When he continued to just watch you, at a loss for words, you finally stood, your back crying out in relief. You stuck out a hand, gesturing to the gun in his hand, and he slowly gave it back to you. “Thank you,” you smiled sweetly at him, your confidence growing at how you managed to stun the man. “I’ll meet you out there. Help yourself to whatever is left in here.” With that, you tuned and left, your sweet smile turning to one of victory.
Unbeknownst to you, the man you’d left in the room had a slight smile on his face before quickly coming to his senses. A groan left him, and he ran a gloved hand over his face as if he could wipe away the heat he felt in his cheeks.
If he could blush, he was sure he would be bright red right now.
─•~❉᯽❉~•─
“Why the hell were ya kicked outta your vault, anyway?”
Well, that certainly wasn’t the question you expected to hear today. You glanced behind you at The Ghoul, continuing down the long-since abandoned street the two of you were on. Even though it had been a few months, it still hurt, the wound never fully closing. “Why’d you ask?” You responded after some hesitation.
“Do I gotta have a reason?” He shot back, and you sighed.
“I suppose not,” you agreed before taking a few moments to formulate your answer. “They thought I was a threat to their way of life. I was too inquisitive for my own good, didn’t work well with authority, and constantly challenged said authority.”
“You? Disagreeable? Never.”
“Well, fuck you too,” you huffed, turning away from him. Here you were, telling him about possibly the worst thing that happened in your life, and he was insulting you. Asshole. For a moment, you thought he was being genuinely friendly, wanting to learn about you. You were bitterly disappointed to find the opposite.
A tense silence hung in the air as you continued to walk, not bothering to glance at him. He didn’t deserve your attention right now. Your somewhat positive mood was now ruined, both from having to bring up your past and because of him.
“They really kicked ya out for that?” He finally spoke. It wasn’t an apology, but you could tell it was an attempt at relieving the dispute.
“I think they were afraid I would change everything, and you know there’s nothing vault dwellers hate more than change. Even if change would improve their lives, they’d rather stay with what they know, not wanting to risk losing comfort and familiarity. They just couldn’t wrap their heads around the fact that change is a good thing. I don’t think they ever will.” The words had just tumbled from your mouth, anger making you ramble freely. When you finished, you finally glanced behind you, cringing at yourself.
To your surprise and relief, you didn’t find a look of judgment on his face. Instead, he seemed almost pensive, not expecting to hear you voice your opinions like that.
“Do ya miss it?”
“Fuck no. Even with all its dangers and obstacles, life up here is infinitely better than any life I could’ve had in a vault. At least up here, my life is mine. I make my own choices, for better or for worse. I exist for myself, not to fulfill some corporation’s quota or for some experiment. I am myself.” You let out a sigh. “There is one thing I do miss, though.”
He didn’t respond but nodded, gesturing for you to continue. “I miss the movie room,” you chuckled, almost bittersweet. “It’s silly, I know. But I miss lounging on one of the couches and getting lost in the story.”
“Did ya have a favorite?” He asked, and you swore he was reminiscing a bit as well.
“Oh, plenty. The Wizard of Oz, The Man from Calabasas, and The Silence of the Lambs, to name a few.”
“The Man from Calabasas?”
“Have you seen it?” You knew damn well that he had done more than seen the movie. He had been the lead star of it.
“Somethin’ like that,” The Ghoul muttered in response. “You weren’t kiddin’, were you?”
“About liking Cooper Howard’s movies? No, I certainly was not. Hell, I’d go as far as to say he’s my favorite actor.”
Like always, his expression towards your response was unreadable. “Would ya, now?”
“Uh-huh. I had a crush on him growing up. Maybe I still do,” you laughed lightly, shrugging your shoulders. He faltered a bit, his eyes widening a fraction, and you had to return to facing forward, unable to hide the smirk on your face any longer. It was so fun to tease him. Every time you’d seen a poster with him on it for the past weeks, you were sure to point it out, always commenting on him.
“He’s much older than ya, sweetheart,” he finally responded after some time.
“It wasn’t like I was dating the man,” you laughed. “Not that it would’ve deterred me, though. I always liked them older.”
The man behind you cleared his throat, and when you turned, you saw his eyes locked onto you, his jaw clenched, and a quickly growing fire in his eyes. Oh, this was so much fun. “You got something against that? Not that I’d change my mind based on your opinion.”
“Not a problem at all.” His words were clipped, strained. You halted in your tracks, holstering your gun, the revolver you’d just found a week ago. He cocked his head, watching you closely, stopping a good few feet behind you. His shoulders tensed when you approached him, his jaw never unclenching.
“Everything alright?” You asked, innocence dripping from your words. “You seem… tense.”
“I’m fine,” he bit out. Giving him enough time to stop you as he spoke, you raised your hands to his coat, fixing the crooked lapels. Once they were straight, you ran your hands down them, resting them on his chest. You couldn’t feel it through all of this fabric, and it was quiet enough that you couldn’t hear it, but a small groan rumbled his chest.
“If you say so,” you teased, running your hands up one last time before letting him go. You took a few steps back, glancing around at the dilapidated scenery. “We should probably find shelter soon. Only an hour of sunlight left.”
“I… sure.” You’d never heard him sound so uncertain, completely taken aback by what you had done. A part of you worried that you had taken it a step too far, but you knew the man. He would not have let you touch him if he didn’t want it. As you turned back forward, you failed to see how his eyes trailed down your body hungrily, gloved hands lingering where yours had just been.
─•~❉᯽❉~•─
Even though the bed was the comfiest thing you’d laid in in months, sleep would not come. No matter how much you tossed, turned, and readjusted, you just could not sleep. It wasn’t like your mind was preoccupied by anything.
Well, that wasn’t true. You’d found your mind wandering to your traveling companion more and more these past weeks since you’d stopped and fixed his jacket right in the middle of the street. You thought he had been more affected than you, but ever since then, you hadn’t been able to stop thinking about how he felt under your hands and what he’d feel like elsewhere.
With a huff and warm cheeks, you sat up, giving up on falling asleep. Slipping on your shoes, you kept your steps light as you crossed the room and made a pointed effort not to glance at the sleeping silhouette of The Ghoul. Grabbing your gun, you stepped outside, the cool night air doing wonders for your flushed skin.
You sat on the edge of the barely standing porch of the house you were sleeping in. You balanced your gun in your lap, and from the pockets of your jeans, you pulled out a beat-up pack of cigarettes and a barely functioning lighter. It took a few moments for the flame to catch, the clicking noise filling the silent night, but you eventually had a lit cigarette between your lips, the smoke swirling comfortingly around your body.
You felt the wood creak before you heard it, and you whirred around, gun pointing at the new figure behind you. The figure let out a familiar chuckle, and you sighed in relief, putting the gun back down. “Didn’t mean to wake you,” you muttered as you turned back.
The Ghoul sat beside you with a sigh, arms extended behind him. “You’re gonna attract unwanted attention with that,” he muttered, ignoring your previous statement.
“Like you?”
He laughed. “You’d be lucky if the worst you got was me.”
“I suppose,” you conceded. “But your company isn’t exactly… unwelcome.”
He merely hummed in response, and you offered him the cigarette. He eyed it briefly, eyes flicking from it to your face, but he eventually grabbed it. Skin grazed yours, and it almost startled you when you realized he wasn’t wearing gloves, and it felt scandalous to see him without them. Still, you kept your composure, observing him silently as he took a drag.
“Can’t sleep?” You heard him ask after some time, and you shook your head. “Me neither.”
“Sorry if my tossing and turning kept you up.”
“Ain’t your fault,” he sighed, passing the cigarette back to you. “Is… are ya alright?”
He’s been surprising you with the questions lately, and you couldn’t help the slight disbelief on your face, nearly choking on the smoke. “Just a lot on my mind” is what you finally went with. It was not entirely a lie, but it withheld specific details.
He thankfully seemed to clock that you didn’t quite want to talk about it, so he left you in silence, taking the cigarette you passed to him. You both whipped your heads to the left when you heard the sound of something groaning, followed by a few more groans from other entities. Whether it was human or not, you couldn’t tell. He quickly smashed the cigarette under his boot, standing up slowly, hand inching towards his gun.
His other hand extended towards you, and you didn’t give yourself time to second-guess before you interlocked your finger with his, letting him pull you up. You had barely gotten to your feet when he was dragging you inside, nearly making you stumble over the planks of wood sticking up.
Still, both of you managed to get inside quickly, the door being kicked soon shut by him, and you locked it. Peering out the blinds, you saw a horde of ferals shuffle their way down the street, some gathering where you were just sitting. You and The Ghoul probably could’ve bested the group, but you never knew. You noticed out of the corner of your eye that said companion wasn’t looking outside like you were but instead trained on you.
When the horde continued further down the street, you let out a breath before switching your attention to the man. “What’s wrong?”
His eyes scanned over your face, something unreadable in them. You gasped lightly when you felt him squeeze your hand, your fingers interlocked with his. So that’s what was making him act so weird.
A small smile graced your face as you looked down at your intertwined hands, neither of you making any move to pull apart yet. His hands were rougher than you were expecting, and even though you could feel the grooves of his marred skin, his fingertips were incredibly calloused as they rubbed into your skin. It was the most lovely thing you’d ever felt.
You’d never seen him regard something so gently when you looked back up at him. It was like you were catching a glimpse of the man he once was before the war. For a moment, you caught a glimpse of the actor, yet this was no scene from a movie. This moment was real, two lost souls finding some semblance of comfort with each other.
But just as soon as the gentle moment had started, it came to a screeching halt, and The Ghoul took a step back, pulling his hand from yours. You tried not to let it sting, but you couldn’t help the slight hurt in your heart as he backed away. “Good night,” he muttered out, his voice cold.
You simply nodded in response, not trusting your voice, and you heard the receding footsteps of The Ghoul as he marched back towards where he was sleeping. You stayed locked by the door for a good moment, unable to move, and embarrassment and sadness locked you there.
You don’t even remember walking back to your bed. All you remember is that you were suddenly looking up at the ceiling, sleep even further than it was before. You swore you could still feel his hand in yours, the heat from his skin, the texture of his skin beneath your fingers. Sighing, you rolled over on your side, back turned away from where The Ghoul was sleeping.
Sleep didn’t come to you that night, and when you finally got up hours later and saw the way The Ghoul sat hunched over the table, you knew he didn’t sleep either.
─•~❉᯽❉~•─
It had been days since that night, and things had been incredibly tense between the two of you since. Hours of travel, once filled with light conversation, were now done in silence. Soft glances were now guarded, lingering touches nonexistent. It was distracting, constantly on your mind, overanalyzing everything you’d done or said to him.
Maybe that distraction was the reason you now sat bleeding out, half lying against an old car, your fingers clutching your stomach uselessly. Blood poured out between your fingers, every breath feeling like you were being stabbed all over again by that Raider. It had been a poorly hidden ambush, yet they still managed to catch you off-guard, your thoughts elsewhere.
It had been fine until you’d gotten cut off from your companion and forced into a small alleyway. You’d managed to take down most of your attackers, but one had gotten lucky with a stab to the stomach. They currently lay dead on the floor as well, shot by your gun, but that had been after they got you.
The sounds of gunfire had ceased about thirty seconds ago, making your ears ring. Or maybe it was the blood loss. You couldn’t tell.
You heard the sound of loud footfalls, and you reached for your gun with a crimson-covered hand, which made it difficult to grasp the weapon. Your arm shook like crazy as you raised your gun, training it on the entrance of the alleyway, waiting as silently as you could. Small gasps of pain kept pouring from your lips, and you blinked back tears.
Relief flooded you when you heard your name being called by The Ghoul, his gruff voice never sounding so lovely. You managed to croak out a response, your arm falling to your lap, unable to hold it up any longer. He called out your name again, even closer this time, but you couldn’t bring yourself to respond, your energy quickly leaving.
When you saw that familiar silhouette at the entrance, you couldn’t help the small smile on your face despite your incredible pain. He was by your side in a second, or maybe you blacked out for a bit. Everything was so blurry now. You cried out in pain when you felt him press down on your stomach, and you tried to squirm away, but he was much stronger than you.
You sagged against the car, unable to fight him any longer. Your eyes felt heavy, but you tried your hardest to keep them open, especially when The Ghoul practically shook you awake. “You better keep those fuckin’ eyes open,” he snapped, and if you were more conscious, you would’ve been able to detect the panic in his voice.
“Are you threatening me?” You wheezed out.
“If that’s what it takes to keep ya awake, then yes.” You felt cold air hit your stomach as he lifted your shirt, examining the wound. You didn’t look at his expression, not wanting to know how bad it was.
“At least take me out to dinner,” you chuckled before a cough rattled your body. Something warm and sticky fell from your lips, making The Ghoul curse, who hurriedly looked for something in his bag. A small first aid kit clattered to the ground, and you cringed when you saw him pull out a needle and thread.
“After this, I’ll take ya out to as many dinners as ya like,” The Ghoul murmured, and because of how hazy your vision was, you missed how his hands shook as he threaded the needle.
“Is that a promise?” It was starting to get hard to get the words out now, as they were beginning to slur.
“You know I don’t make promises I can’t keep, sweetheart.”
“I love it when you call me sweetheart,” you admitted, unable to stop yourself. Your smile turned into a wince when you felt the needle pierce your skin. He muttered an apology, but you just shook your head and leaned forward slightly as he worked quickly to sew your wound close. It was just close enough that you could see him clearly, and you unabashedly let your eyes roam his face.
Blood loss was kicking in now, and the world was spinning. You tried hard to keep your eyes open but found them fluttering close even more frequently, your head drooping to the car. He shook you gently whenever he felt you do it, promising that he was almost done. “We gotta get this close before I can give ya a stimpack.”
“You’re pretty,” you whispered before almost immediately breaking into laughter.
“And you’ve lost a lot of blood,” The Ghoul shook his head, working diligently.
“I mean it,” you practically pouted. “You’re so pretty.”
“I’m sure I’m quite the fuckin’ catch.”
“You’ve always been a catch,” you teased, and you tried to bring up one of your hands to caress his face, but it fell limply to your lap.
For the first time, his eyes shot up to yours, confusion on his face. But they quickly returned to his work, shaking his head again. “Whatdya mean by that, sweetheart?” He asked, trying to keep you talking. Or maybe he was genuinely curious.
“The entire time I’ve known you, I’ve thought you were beautiful,” the tiniest bit of tension left The Ghoul, “but even before then, I’ve always thought you were the most handsome man I’d ever seen-”
“You don’t mean-”
“Guess that’s why I’ve still got a crush on you,” you sighed, continuing despite his objections. But you didn’t get to see his reaction, the weight on your lids growing unbearable, and you let them fall close, unconsciousness finally claiming you. Your name being said like a plea was the last thing you remembered.
─•~❉᯽❉~•─
You weren’t sure how long you were out for. All you know is that the room you woke up in was unfamiliar, and everything in your body hurt. Wincing, you tried to sit up, only to collapse in pain, your stomach in agony. A shadow fell across your face, and through tears, you managed to see the familiar face of The Ghoul above you.
He looked as terrible as you felt, the deep sockets of his eyes somehow even more pronounced. It looked like he hadn’t slept in days, the whites of his eyes bloodshot. His clothes were more rumpled, and he had discarded his hat somewhere in the room. If you weren’t in so much pain, you would’ve asked him why he looked like, well, shit.
His lips moved, but you couldn’t hear the words, your ears ringing too loudly. You fought back when you felt a needle enter your skin, but you relaxed when the pain began to dim like a bright light covered with a blanket; the pain was still there but not nearly as noticeable.
After a few more seconds, your ears finally stopped ringing, the man's gruff voice replacing it. “Just some painkillers,” he explained.
You tried to thank him, but your voice was too dry, and you broke into a coughing fit. With a lot of help from him, you could sit up enough to drink, greedily gulping down the canteen of water that he presented you. Despite your objections, he pulled it away from you when he deemed you had enough.
You were starting to feel more alert now, and your vision was not as fuzzy as it was moments ago. The Ghoul sat in the chair you just noticed beside your bed, a soft sigh leaving him. The room was still unfamiliar, and you realized he had probably just dragged your unconscious body into the closest possible building.
Glancing at him, you watched as he leaned back into his chair, his eyes never leaving your face. His expression was, as always, unreadable, but you couldn’t help but feel like you’d done something wrong. Well, something besides getting stabbed. “How long have I been out for?”
“Almost three days.”
“Thank you.”
“For?”
You gestured to your body. “For saving me.”
In response, he made a vague noise, his arms crossing over his chest. His stare became scrutinizing, and you felt like he was picking you apart. You could feel your heartbeat accelerate, your nerves becoming terrible, yet you forced yourself to hold his gaze.
After what felt like hours of tense silence, he finally spoke. “Whatdya remember?”
“Well, not much, to be honest. I remember getting injured, and then you helped me, and then I passed out.”
“D’ya remember anythin’ you said?”
You furrowed your brows. “No? Did… did I say something bad?” When he didn’t respond, you grew even more worried. “Look, if I said something to offend you-”
“How long have ya known?”
You blinked. “What?”
“How long have ya known who I am?” His voice was surprisingly steady, not leaning towards any particular emotion.
Internally, you were kicking yourself. Of course, you just had to let your secret slip while you were bleeding out. You figured it useless to attempt lying, so you just sighed deeply. “I’ve known since the moment we met,” you confessed.
“So this entire time-”
“Yes.”
The chair creaked, and you jumped when you felt his elbows lean on the edge of your bed. “And ya didn’t fuckin’ think that was important to tell me?”
You leaned as far away from him as you physically could. “I’m sorry.”
He laughed at that, a bitter sound. You felt his fingers creep toward your hand beneath the covers, noticeably bare of gloves. Something dark crossed his features when he made contact, his fingers running along your hand tortuously slowly. You whispered out his name as a question, confused but not against this conversation's direction. “You know my real name, sweetheart. Might as well use it.”
Your throat suddenly became dry, but you didn’t dare reach for the canteen perched in his lap. “Cooper,” a small smile pulled at the corners of his mouth, “I thought you’d be… angrier.”
“Oh, I’m fuckin’ pissed.” You saw his eyes flash momentarily, making you want to shrink into a ball and hide. You’d never been on the receiving end of his anger, and you hated it. Or at least that's what you told yourself. “But there’s far more important things on my mind right now.”
“Like what?”
“Like keepin’ ya alive, for example.” His teasing tone turned somber. “You almost bled out.”
“Oh,” was all you could think to say. You hadn’t realized how severe the wound you’d gotten was. Tentatively, you lowered the sheet that was around your body, then raised the still bloody shirt that now had a hole in the front. “My poor shirt…”
He scoffed. “Ya got stabbed in the gut, and you’re worried ‘bout your shirt?”
“Do you know how hard it is to find intact clothing up here?” You shook your head before examining the stitched-up gash on your stomach. Well, the once stitched-up gash. Thanks to the magic of stimpacks, he had been able to take out your sutures, leaving behind a barely healed scar across your stomach. You supposed it was a miracle, too, that it hadn’t caused severe damage to any of your intestines. “Thanks, doc.” You tried to jest.
He laughed, but it sounded forced even to you. His gaze locked on where he rubbed your hand, looking like he wanted to say something. “Was… was there anything else?” You asked carefully.
He exhaled sharply, and for a moment, you thought he wouldn’t respond. “Did you mean it?”
“Mean what?”
An exasperated chuckle left him. “Everythin’. Every comment, every tease, every single fuckin’ thing you did that’s kept me awake for nights on end. Did you mean it?” To any other person, the way he re-asked the question would’ve sounded angry, pissed off. But you knew better. There was almost a sense of desperation in his words, his gaze boring into you as he waited for a response.
“I am many things,” you began slowly. “A liar is not one of them. I meant it, every single thing.”
He paused. “Were your words only meant for the man I was?”
“Can they not be for the man you are as well?”
Your words seemed to catch him off-guard. “I guess they can,” he sighed, tilting his head down to break eye contact. Without thinking, you freed your hand from the blanket and his touch, and you gently tugged his chin until he was looking at you again. You were both equally surprised by the action, but you didn’t let yourself back down now. Not when you were so close to what you wanted.
You gave him a moment to pull away from your touch if he was so pleased, and when he didn't, a gentle smile grew on your lips as you adjusted your hand so that you now held the side of his face. It was a stretch to do so, but seeing how he practically melted into your touch was worth it. You wondered how long it had been since someone had held him like this.
“I rather like the man you are,” you admitted softly, your thumb running over his scarred cheek. “The man who put up with my constant teasing. The man who’s become the person I trust the most in this fucked up world. The man who just saved my life.” You sat up slowly, much to the complaint of your stomach and The Ghoul, but you ignored both.
With one arm holding you up, you tugged him forward until he was half on the bed, one leg between your own, the other still firm on the floor. His hands braced on either side of you, face inches from yours as he leaned above you. He was close enough that you could feel his chest rise and fall, now slightly quicker than before.
Human eyes flicked down to your lips, an unspoken question to which you already knew the answer. Instead of speaking, you let your actions do the talking, closing the distance until your lips brushed over his. But you didn’t let them connect. You wanted him to do it, to show you that this was what he wanted.
You heard your name said softly, a mix between a plea and a warning. It was the most beautiful thing you’d ever heard.
“Cooper,” you sighed in response, and that seemed to do the trick. He finally closed the space between you two, lips surprisingly gentle against yours as he kissed you. It was everything you wanted, and you sighed happily, fingers trailing patterns across his skin.
After a few moments, he pulled away, much to your audible displeasure, and chuckled. “I’m still fuckin’ angry at ya, sweetheart.”
“I’d expect nothing less,” you laughed lightly, “but be mad at me later.”
“Why would I do that?”
“Because I want you to kiss me again.”
“So fuckin’ needy,” he teased, a slight grin on his lips, but he brought himself back down to your lips. “I like it.”
He didn’t give you a chance to respond, his lips crashing against yours with noticeably less gentleness. You didn’t resist as the force of it pushed you back gently onto the bed, and your hand fell from his face to the front of his jacket, grabbing a fistful of the material. His lips were almost feverish against yours, a barely contained desperation in the act, and you felt fingers brush against your cheek. They were just as rough as you remembered.
The bed shifted as he finally put his entire body on it, one knee between your legs, the other resting by your hip. One hand still worked to keep himself from resting his whole body weight on you, the other tracing patterns into your skin, just like you had done to him. If he had any reservations left, they no longer existed. The only things on his mind were the way you felt beneath him and the way your lips felt against his.
You gasped when you felt him move down your jaw, down to your neck, kissing and sucking the delicate skin there. No longer able to hold his jacket comfortably, you switched to holding the back of his head, nails scratching lightly against the skin. He practically shuddered, his arm buckling slightly, some of his body weight falling onto your lower body.
A groan of pain tore through you when you felt him press against your stomach. It was almost funny how he seemed to jump off of you, hooded eyes immediately becoming alert. “Fuck, sweetheart, I’m sorry-”
“Get back down here,” you practically growled, reaching up for his shirt again. He stopped you, redirecting your hand to the bed, securing it with a firm hand when you tried to break free.
“You’re injured,” he countered, stopping your continued attempts to break free with a look.
“And?”
“And we just got ya stable. I’d be even more fuckin’ pissed if three days of work was all for nothin’.”
“We’ll just be careful, then,” you protested, desire making you irrational. You’d just gotten a taste, but you needed more of him. Hesitancy flashed across his features, making you nervous. “Unless you don’t want to…”
“Oh, I fuckin’ do,” he chuckled. “But I ain’t doin’ anythin’ to ya until you’re healed.”
“Anything? Not even a kiss?”
He sighed, shaking his head, but his face had a fond expression. “You’re difficult, ya know that?”
“I’ve been told,” you laughed. “So is that a ‘no’, then?”
You had to stop yourself from laughing when he kissed you. When he pulled away, he rested his head against yours. “There. Satisfied?”
Far from it. “For now,” you sighed, lying comfortably on the bed. Now that you didn’t have anything exciting in your near future, exhaustion slowly began to creep back in, making you yawn. He chuckled, moving to get up, but you halted him with a gentle hand on his shoulder. “Lay with me? Please?”
You could tell that he was ready to argue against it, but he relented. With a smile, you were able to roll over to one of the sides of the bed with limited amounts of pain, giving him enough room to squeeze in behind you. Immediately, you felt one of his arms tuck beneath the pillow, the other resting on your hip, being careful to avoid your injury.
With his front pressed against your back, you let your eyes fall close, much less violently than previously. Your breathing eventually evened out, and you let your body fully relax against him. He must’ve thought you were asleep because you felt him brush away any hair that covered your face, and even though you couldn’t see him, you knew he was observing you.
You manage to be still when his lips grazed the shell of your ear, a featherlight kiss, and his following words were just as light. “I’m glad you’re alright, sweetheart.”
─•~❉᯽❉~•─
You couldn’t believe the sight in front of you.
You’d accidentally stumbled upon it, traveling a little too far off the beaten path, but you were so glad you did. In front of you were scattered pools of water, about six total, ranging from five to twenty feet across. Steam billowed off the top of the pools, the water bubbling by some unseen force, disturbing the clear water's surface. Set into rust-red stone, you couldn’t tell how deep the pools were, but you were eager to find out.
Stepping toward the edge of one of the larger pools, the rational part of your brain finally kicked in, and you took out your Geiger counter. You expected to hear the annoying ticking noise that accompanied said pools of water but were surprised when it remained silent.
After checking it a few more times to be sure, you sat back on your heels, debating. It was then you finally heard the footfalls of your companions, huffing in annoyance because you ran off on him. “The hell ya doin’?” He asked, wary of how close you sat next to the water.
“There’s no radiation!” You called back, glancing behind at him. “At least not enough to be a problem!”
The Ghoul crouched beside you, glancing from you to the pools of water. “Are you sure?”
“I’m positive. Look!” You returned the counter to the water’s surface and received the same results.
He hummed curiously. “This must’ve formed after the bombs.”
“What is it?”
“They’re hot springs,” he responded like it was the most obvious answer in the world. “Stick your hand in it.”
Cautiously, you let your fingers dip beneath the water's surface and were startled to find it quite warm. A small laugh left you as you pulled your fingers out, wiping your hands on your pants. “Are they safe?”
“Well, sayin’ as there isn’t any radiation, and no creature can live in waters like this, I’d say so.” He had just gotten the words out before you stood again, toeing off your ragged shoes and socks. “The hell you doin’?” He asked again, bewildered by your actions.
Your bag hit the rocks with a thud right next to your shoes. “I’m getting in,” you stated, leaving no room for argument. “I’m filthy, sweaty, gross, and I desperately need a bath. You see any other options around?”
“Well, no, but-”
“Turn around if you don’t wanna see me get undressed.” Your gunbelt and armor were next to join the ground, close enough to the edge that you could grab it if you’d like.
“And if I wanna see?” he asked when your hands reached the hem of your shirt, still partially stained from the event the week before, a hastily sewed-on patch on the front.
You finally glanced down at him, and he watched you with rapt attention. “Well,” you laughed lightly, “then enjoy the show.” Your shirt was off in one movement, joining the pile on the ground. You didn’t bother to look at the new scar on your stomach, which had become significantly less painful over the past week.
You knew you were toying with something dangerous, a line the two of you had been dancing on over the past week. Things hadn’t gone beyond kissing and lingering touches, and you were ready for more. You wanted more, and if the way he seemed to restrain himself each time he kissed you, you knew he felt the same.
Your jeans were next, leaving you in only your undergarments. He was utterly transfixed, excitement visible on his face as you reached for the clasp of your bra. It had been weird; over the past week, you felt like he was becoming better at not hiding his expressions. Or you were getting better at reading him.
You playfully threw the garment at him when it slid off your shoulders, obstructing his view momentarily. During that, you let your underwear slide down your legs, and you kicked it off your ankles, letting it join the pile. For a moment, you let his eyes hungrily roam your body before submerging yourself beneath the water’s surface. It was just deep enough that you could stand, and your head and shoulders were free, letting you breathe freely.
The sound you made when the hot water met your skin was unintentionally filthy, a mix between a moan and a curse. “Fuck, that feels good,” you laughed airily. The water was nearly unbearably hot, but you quickly grew acclimated.
Leaning back, you let your head submerge beneath the water, wetting your hair. At this angle, you could see him still, stunned, and still crouched by the water. Grinning, you adjusted back upright before reaching him, resting your arms on the rock face, and you rested your chin on them, looking up at him. “Are you getting in as well?”
That question broke him out of the semi-trance he was in, and he shook his head, much to your displeasure. “Someone’s gotta keep watch,” he grumbled.
“You’re no fun.”
“Is that so?”
You nodded. “C’mon, just for a little bit.”
“Sweetheart, you and I both know that if I get in there, it won’t be for ‘a little bit’.”
“And that’s a problem because…?”
He shook his head again but removed his gloves, making your grin wider. Backing away from the edge, you watched his hat come off next, then his gunbelt and coat. When he reached the buttons of his shirt, he paused, glancing into your eager eyes. “Turn around,” he requested, and you responded with a confused glance. “Do ya want me in there or not?”
You were still confused, but not wanting to push his comfort, you complied, distracting yourself from the scenery around you. It was hard to hear over the rolling water, but you listened to the sound of clothing hitting the rocks, making your breath hitch in excitement. Anticipation made your skin crawl, although not unpleasantly, and you waited for the sound of water splashing as he joined you.
But after a moment passed and you were met with just the continued sound of bubbles, you shifted nervously yet didn’t dare look back. Time seemed to crawl on agonizingly slow, your breaths turning shallow. You nearly screamed when you felt an arm wrap around your midsection, still mindful of the injury, but relaxed almost immediately when the familiar timbre of his voice hit your ears. “Not even a peek, I’m impressed.”
“Is it truly that shocking that I can follow directions?” You scoffed, letting him ease you against his now bare chest. The contact was blissful, and you sighed out in content. “Can I turn around now?”
He made a noise of consideration before resting his head on your shoulder. When he spoke next, it was almost straight into your ear. “In a moment. Lemme hold ya for a bit longer.”
When he received no objections from you, he pressed a kiss to your shoulder. His other arm joined with the other, keeping your body wrapped up in his arms. It was a bit of an awkward angle, but you managed to reach around to hold the back of his head gently. You could feel him smile lightly when your nails scratched lightly.
“So, how’d you figure it out?”
It took a few moments of wracking your brain until you finally realized what he was talking about. “We’re having this conversation now?”
“Don’t see any better time. Besides, ya can’t run away from the questions now.” It was true; over the past week, you’d found an excuse not to answer his questions, finding something else to do as an excuse. Now it looked like he had you right where he wanted.
Groaning, you hung your head, much to the amusement of him. “It was your voice, mainly,” you admitted. “When I first heard it, I thought I was just reaching. Then, it just clicked after watching the way you wield your gun, the way you carry yourself, everything. You even look a bit the same,” you chuckled.
“And you thought the best thing to do next was to fuckin’ tease me?”
“You have to admit, it was kinda funny.”
You felt his shoulders shake, a light chuckle leaving him. “I ain’t admitting to nothin’, sweetheart.”
“Are you still upset about it?”
“Not for the reason you’re thinkin’.”
That piqued your curiosity. “Oh?”
“I wished ya told me sooner because I wouldn’t have had to wait this long to do this.” His arms tightened the tiniest amount around you. “D’you know how hard it's been these past weeks, months, haivn’ to bite my tongue every time you make one those comments, those touches.”
“Months?”
“That’s how long it’s been since we met, right?”
Shocked laughter left you, and you tried to turn in his arms. You could only get halfway around before his grip stopped you, but you had turned enough so that you could look at him. You weren’t expecting him to look so confident about his response; the muscles of his brow raised like he was daring you to say something. “You’ve wanted me for-”
“Since the moment ya stumbled into me that night.”
“You tried to kill me.”
He shrugged. “Still knew that I wanted ya.”
“How… romantic,” you scoffed.
“And they say romance is dead.”
“You did promise to take me out to dinner.”
“Out of everythin’ from that conversation, that’s the fuckin’ thing you remember?” You felt his arm go lax for a second, but that was all you needed. Turning, you finally were facing him, your chest pressed into him, making him groan appreciatively. Your arms wrapped around his neck in an embrace, and you felt his hands begin to trail up your back. One settled on your ribs, the other continued up to the base of your neck, brushing your hairline.
Any words you were about to say fell short when you felt him scratch lightly, a choked noise leaving you at the action, your body shivering. Your mind went blank, and he just chuckled knowingly. His fingers ran up even more, your body reacting similarly, and you both knew the conversation was over for now.
You gasped when you felt him grab a fist of your hair and pull back; it was not rough enough to be incredibly painful, but it still stung a bit. But it wasn’t like you could feel the pain anyway, your desire being far more powerful. He leaned down into your space, face hovering above yours as he tilted yours back. “What, cat got your tongue?” He teased you for your sudden silence, which was uncharacteristic.
“Fuck you,” you managed to whisper, making him laugh.
“We’ll get there, sweetheart.”
His lips were on yours before you could respond, your senses now overwhelmed with him. His other hand wasn’t shy, grabbing and kneading at every piece of skin it could find, making you groan against his mouth.
You laughed when you began to feel him back up to the edge of the pool, barely able to keep up with his eager movements. But you were confused when you felt his hands grip your waist and lift you so that you were now sitting on the rock edge. It was a warm day, but even the warm air wasn’t enough to stop you from shivering from the temperature difference. “I thought we were supposed to be getting clean,” you tried to protest.
It didn’t even cross your mind that your entire body was exposed to him now, and if you did remember, you doubted you’d even care. Not with how his eyes roamed your body like he was trying to memorize every inch of you. His hands gripped your thighs, pulling them apart so he could stand between them. He stood level with the base of your throat, wasting no time before he lavished it with kisses and bites.
“We can do it after,” he murmured against your skin. “I need to fuckin’ taste ya, Now.”
Involuntarily, your legs tightened around his body at his words, laughing lightly in shock. You don’t think you’d ever had a partner so eager to go down on you. “Cooper-”
“I fuckin’ love hearin’ you say my name. I bet ya sound even better screamin’ it.” His lips had moved down to your breasts, fingers digging into the plush of your thighs.
You tried not to think too much about the implications of his words. And you tried even harder not to let your body react any further, not wanting to fan the flame of his ego anymore. But you’d be a liar if you said you weren’t enjoying his cockiness. “Is that a promise?” You echoed the question from the previous week.
You felt him smirk. “I wasn’t kiddin’ when I said I don’t make promises I can’t keep.” A soft nip made you jump slightly, and he soothed over the hurt with his tongue. “Lie back, sweetheart.”
Excitement and arousal buzzed in your veins, and you required no further encouragement before you were resting back on your elbows, unable to feel the stone beneath you. He pulled away when you leaned back, something almost like pride in his eyes at how easily you complied.
He adjusted your legs so that they now rested on his shoulders, the heels of your feet resting on his back. It gave him perfect access to your center, and between your thighs, you saw how his eyes turned impossibly dark. They flicked to you one last time, looking for any hesitation, before leaning forward until you felt his breath caress the sensitive area.
But he didn’t make contact where you wanted. Instead, you felt his lips ghost the insides of your thighs, teasing you. Groaning, you tried to close the distance with a roll of your hips, but he shut that down quickly. His hands no longer held your thighs open. Instead, they were splayed across your hips, keeping you pinned down to the rocks as he continued his light touches.
You’d forgotten how strong he was, and you found yourself unable to move your hips any longer, rendered completely still by him. You didn’t have to see him to know he was loving tormenting you, inching closer and closer to where he knew you desperately wanted him. “I thought you said you needed to taste me,” you reminded him, and repeating his filthy words made you warm.
“I know what I said,” he breathed. “Consider this payback for the weeks of fuckin’ torture you’ve put me through.” A frustrated noise left you, and you tried to move away, but to no avail. Teeth dragged against your skin, up towards your center, halting right before reaching it. “You don’t get to run off on me now, sweetheart. You’re gonna take what I give ya.”
“Cooper, please.”
“As amazin’ as you sound beggin’, you ain’t gettin’ what you want that easy.” One of the hands holding you down moved up, calloused fingers grasping at your breast, making you whine. If you thought that because he let up one of his hands, you’d be able to move your hips freely, you thought wrong. All you could do was lay there and comply, much to his evident enjoyment.
You’re not sure how long you sat there, time crawling on tortuously slow, as he continued to tease and rile you up. Occasionally, you felt his lips ghost over where you wanted him, and you’d think he was finally having mercy on you. But when he passed over, too light to provide any relief, you knew he was just working you up more. No matter how much you pleaded or begged, he didn’t relent, a wicked gleam in his eyes.
But he was only human, and he, too, had a limit to his patience. It broke when the hand groping your breasts snuck between your legs, fingers spreading you open. His breath hitched when he saw the evidence of your arousal. He sighed, an air of finality in the sound.
“Oh, fuck this,” you heard him growl before his mouth was finally on you. Startled but oh so relieved, a jumble of words left your mouth, a mix of his name and curses. His tongue swept through you desperately, face burrowed deep between your thighs, a groan tearing from his lips as he finally tasted you.
He was incessant, addicted now that he’d gotten a taste. Your thighs tightened around his head as he ate you out, but he didn’t seem to mind. It almost seemed to urge him on, knowing he was making you feel that good. He still had a hand holding you down, the one between your legs teasing at your entrance, making your eyes flutter close.
When his tongue began to focus on your clit, you could barely keep yourself propped up any longer, and your arms started to shake. Desperate for something to hold on to, you grasped at the hand on your waist. He adjusted so that his forearm now pinned you, leaving his hand free for you to grab, which you did eagerly. It would’ve been funny how the two actions juxtaposed each other if he wasn’t making you see stars.
His name was being said like a mantra, turning more and more breathy as pleasure began to build. It turned louder when you felt one of his fingers ease into you, and you could feel the various groves of his skin, all adding to the stimulation you felt. Slowly, he began to pump it in and out of you, his mouth continuing to toy with your clit. Peeling your eyes open, you dared to glance down at him, gasping lightly when you found him looking at you.
He looked so eager, so hungry, his pupils blown out with lust as he watched you slowly begin to fall apart. You were caught in a trance, unable to look away from him anymore. Not that you’d want to look away from such a glorious sight.
Keeping your gazes locked when you felt a second finger join became a challenge. The tension that he had so beautifully wound up inside you was on the verge of snapping, your breathing growing faster as you neared your release. You didn’t have to say anything to him; it seemed like he knew your body as well as you did. As he moved his fingers, you felt him crook his fingers in a ‘come here’ motion, making you cry out.
Your thighs around his head begin to shake, your heels digging into his back almost painfully. You were so close, your grip turning vice-like on his hand. It was when you felt his lips latch onto your clit and suck when you finally fell apart. You had no idea how loudly you cried out his name, the sound of your ears ringing blocking out any other noise. White-hot pleasure washed over your body, your one arm finally going boneless beneath you, your back hitting the rock.
It took a few moments of deep breaths to get your heart under control, the ringing in your ears becoming background noise. You didn’t have the energy to prop yourself up yet, so you just strained your neck until you could look at him. He was still between your thighs, fingers having been withdrawn, but he continued to lap at your release. You could feel the smirk on his face when you made eye contact.
Overstimulation quickly made itself known, and with a groan, you finally sat yourself up. Easing your legs off of him, he still didn’t let up, and so with a half-hearted shove, you backed him up. He didn’t stay away long, helping your back towards the edge of the rock, lips once again making contact with your throat. His hands caressed your body, but he didn’t do more than touch, giving you a few more moments to recover. “Told ya I’d make you scream,” he muttered, making you scoff.
“I wasn’t that loud.” Was I?
“Scared off a few birds.” He laughed when you slapped his shoulder in mock offense, making him look up. “Ouch,” he deadpanned.
You rolled your eyes, shaky hands grabbing the sides of his face and bringing it close to yours. You snuck a quick kiss to his lips, but even though it was short, you could still taste yourself on it. It made your head spin, and you offered no objects as he tugged you into the water, the temperature shock making you gasp.
You’d barely gotten your footing before he was on you, all lips and teeth against your skin. Hands skated down your slides, beneath your thighs, tugging one of them up until it wrapped around his body. You gasped when you felt his hard length press against you, and you rocked your hips eagerly. It got the response you wanted, a groan of your name leaving his lips.
“C’mon, Cooper,” you gasped, hands grasping his shoulders, bracing yourself. “C’mon baby, let me feel you.”
An almost pained noise left his lips before he thrust into you, the mix of your arousal and the water around you allowing him to enter with ease. He didn’t give you any time to adjust, setting a brutal pace almost immediately, his hips snapping up into you. Your nails dug into his scarred skin, and once the initial shock wore off, moans tumbled from your lips.
Water splashed up because of the movement, hitting the rocks, but neither of you paid any mind. How could you, when he was fucking you like it was the only thing he could do, wanted to do? His hand remained on your thigh, helping keep your leg propped up. His other hand held the side of your face, your mouth hung open and panting, and he pulled you in for a messy kiss.
His tongue swept into your open mouth as if he owned it, a groan leaving you at the filthy act. There was so much happening, and like before, you could do nothing but just let it happen, reciprocating as best you could with soft noises and touches.
A particularly hard thrust left you gasping, breaking away from the kiss, choosing to just rest your head against his. Pleasure blossomed across your body, and you felt that familiar tension return. Sneaking a hand between your legs beneath the water, you began to rub at yourself, making you clench around him.
“Hands up,” you barely managed to hear him hiss through a groan. “Keep those hands on me, sweetheart.”
You complied, returning your touch to his shoulders, but your lost additional pleasure was only momentary. His hand replaced yours, nimble fingers working you as well as you could, maybe even better. His fingers moved in slow, hard circles, a complete contrast to the rapid movement of his hips. The two different sensations drove you wild, your breathing coming out as short, hot pants.
You could feel yourself getting close, and you knew he could feel it. The movement of his hips had turned more desperate about thirty seconds ago, and you knew he was close as well. Running your hands up his neck, you pulled his face against yours when they reached his jaw, on the verge of bruising your lips with how aggressively you smashed them against his. “Cooper, I’m so close,” you whispered between kisses.
“Cum for me, sweetheart, fuckin’ fall apart.” You couldn’t tell if he was asking or pleading, but you would fulfill his request either way.
It took a few more presses of his fingers and snaps of his hips until you came, shouting his name like you’d done before. You could barely see through the haze the satisfactory smirk on his lips, pleasure once again washing over your body. Every muscle in your body tensed, and that smirk immediately fell from his lips, turning into an almost scowl as he staved off his own release. “Where-”
“Inside.” You didn’t have to hear the whole question to know what he was asking.
For the first time, he moaned, too caught up in his own pleasure to care. “Fuck, you gonna let me fill ya?” A small laugh of disbelief left him when you nodded. “Goddamn…” His words trailed off as he chased his release, the continued thrusts of his hips bordering on overstimulation. But you didn’t have to wait long, because with a much quieter groan of your name, his hips stilled, and you felt his release seep into you.
For a moment, the two of you just held each other, catching your breaths. Your body felt like it was on fire, a mix of pleasure and the hot water around you, yet you made no move to leave, not wanting this moment to be over yet.
Slowly, his hand let go of your leg, and even though the water helped ease the irritated muscle, you still let out a noise of discomfort. He eased out of you then as well, leaving you feeling empty. Some part of you feared that he would push you away next, but a relieved smile appeared on your face when he tugged you into his arms, a surprisingly gentle kiss placed on top of your damp head.
“You alright?” You don’t think you’d ever heard him so soft, so genuine, and knowing it was aimed at you nearly brought tears to your eyes.
Too many emotions swirled in your chest, and instead of facing them and the discomfort they could bring, you resorted to humor. “I’m surprised you lasted that long, Cooper Howard. You being an old man, after all.”
arthur is such a gossip like no matter who he’s riding with he’ll find someone to bitch about the entire ride he would’ve done wonders as a guest judge on ru paul
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