Title translation is Many wishes for a good birthday in Italian.
If Sweetjane had a choice on her favorite hour of the day, she would undoubtedly say it was the cool golden red of late afternoon. On this day it was a more grey tone, indicating snow is coming. Even so, it was most likely because it signified a welcome end to her work on the tarberry farm, and a return to her family. The noise of the three children playing or having mild disagreements all the while their father laughingly encouraging them. Maybe it as simply the light streaming and dancing like the snowflakes that were threatening to fall at any moment that made this particular evening seem as magical as the old world Christmas movies made it look to be. Whatever it was, she contemplated the hour as she said goodnight to Deirdre and Arlen, locking her trinket stall before heading to Arsenic's canteen.
The old chef and Cyanide had gotten her the specific ingredients she had asked and paid for. Cherries and vanilla extract were really rare this far north. She honestly may have asked for chocolate at this point. But Ripper's favorite cake was vanilla with cherry icing, which may have been more simple in the prewar but now in the post-war commonwealth? She stops just long enough to check on the grumpy chef and his "assistant" though Jean's role seemed more taste everything their little arms could reach than actual assisting. Their hands and face looked like they were streaked in blood but it was just the bowl of leftover cherry filling Arsen had given them.
"Sweetjane, I told ya I ain't much of a baker…" Arsenic's voice seemed more like a growl, but she knew by now that he sounded harsher than he means. It caused the head of black curls to look up. She gives Arsenic a smile and nod of encouragement and after receiving a sticky hug from her child, excused herself to go change.
The barest whisper of a warm breeze wafted over her pale arms as she pushed the door to her house open wide. It as a welcome feeling, something intangibly clear and cold and crisp, something inexplicably December. She quickly changed into a new skirt. Closing her eyes, she lowered herself to the sofa for a moment, turning her face up to the fading rays of the setting sun to feel that last bit of warmth.
“Oh, yer in here! Been lookin all over fer ya!” came Ripper’s voice from behind her.
Sweetjane grinned as much as she could, but she didn’t turn to answer him, not yet. “Liar, ya knew were I was. Takin' a moment ta breathe fo' we get ready fer yer fais do-do.” she said, her eyes still closed as she took another deep breath of the warm dry air.
She felt her husband's tall frame and the cool metal and leather of his battle jacket settle into the space next to her, and then the warm ceramic of a mug against her knuckles as he placed it next to her did she finally turn her smile on him. “how's yer work today, chiriklo?”
“Same as 'tis everyday, just didn't go much further t'day. Y'know on account of it bein' my birthday?” The ghoul replied as he adjusted himself of the sofa. He closed his eyes, the barest hint of a smile tugging at the corners of his lips, the dimples barely hidden under the radiation scarring and she watched as the set of his shoulders softened ever so slightly. He leaned, not quite fully into her, but enough that she naturally leaned her head on his shoulder. She felt him sigh softly against her as he wrapped an arm around her.
The pair of them sat for a few minutes more, drinking their hot chocolate and watching the golden sunset fading to a warm rosy dusk, to the deep blue of evening. Sweetjane snuggled in closer to his warmth, clutching her mug in both her hands as she listened to the faint hum of the farm and their combined soft, sighing breaths. A single moment to themselves, before life pulls them back into its current. She felt him turn and then the rough press of lips against the crown of her head. “Bonne fête, chiriklo” she whispers, closing her eyes and nuzzling against his neck with a sigh.
Ripper squeezed her shoulder. “Grazie…” He trailed off, taking a deep staggered breath, as if he’d lost his train of thought, though she knew he hadn't.
She nudged his side with her elbow. “Ya ready?”
The tall ghoul sighs, leaning his head down against his wife's. "Let'em wait a little longer. For now I just wanna spend my 250th birthday with ya.”
In all honesty, the bed was barely big enough for herself and Ripper, let alone 2 extra people. Sweetjane awoke entwined in a mass of limbs and ghoulflesh and bedsheets, pressed inbetween Crow and her husband with Arsenic close to the wall. She hadn't been this comfortable since her sisters in the baro. The gentle puff of Arsenic's open cheek on her forehead, Crow's warm fingers intertwined with her own, the steady, pleasant thrum of Ripper's heartbeat where her head lay against his chest. She wants to stay there forever.
But morning had come, the farm was waking up as the morning sun streamed through the slats of the blinds dust dancing in the light. Arsenic shifted and sat up. He's never been late to open his canteen, and this new development in his relationship is not going to change that.
"I think," she broke off in a yawn covering her mouth, "we should at least told de kids, 'fore we all got in de same bed."
Ripper sleepily pulled his wife back into him, mumbling, "they'll be fine."
"I know dat. I just don't wanna freak'em out is all… I know we done discussed it in Goodneighbor. But as soon as we got back we ya know…"
Crow buried their face into Sweetjane's armpit with a lazy laugh. "He's right. Kid's'll be fine."
Sweetjane sighs, "I guess so, I mean dey're not even awake themselves. Get back hya, Arsen. De canteen kin wait five minutes."
"Five minutes," he repeats as he lays himself back in that blissful tangled embrace.
Five years after they married, Sweetjane and Ripper still show passion for one another one evening.
Featuring @voidthewanderer's Ripper.
Rating: X
Warnings: Vanilla Spice
Word Count: 1527
Title is Italian for Beautiful Evening.
Translations (WArning I don't speak Italian so I can't tell if this is accurate)
Ti amerò per sempre.
I will love you forever, Chiriklo (romani for bird and Sweetjane's pet name for Ripper).
Certo, tu sei tutto per me,Tesoro.
Of course, you're everything to me, Treasure (Ripper's pet name for Sweetjane).
(Obligatory tagging @bokatan since they want to read everything I write)
***
Time always passed differently during the week after their anniversary and was a new beast entirely if they happened to spend it at his grandmother's old prewar home near Atlantic city.
Sweetjane put her head on Ripper's shoulder after comfortably settling in his lap, breathing a contented sigh as he stroked her hair. "Cain't believe it's been five years now," she says, looking out at the setting sun on the horizon. There were a few empty Nuka-cherry and even a tarberry wine bottle, all long since gone.
Part of what made the time pass so slowly was that there weren't any kids with them when they traveled here. Over the past few years, they started to fix up the place, not that it needed much. They were thinking of turning it into a sort of summer home, a place to eventually take all three kids with them once Jean was a little older. But now it was just the two of them, knowing that their toddler was safe in the care of the Slog and their siblings. It felt odd for the moment but still she enjoyed the peace, clad only in one of her husband's battle vests and panties, watching the first stars appear in the sky.
Ripper was dressed in a similar state, only pulling on a pair of silk pj bottoms since they were outside. He leaned back against the low back of the diner chair as she ran her fingertips lightly over the radiation scarring on his chest, the hand that was not supporting her by the hips tracing light circles over her knee. "Ya sure it's only been 5 years? Seems shorter than that, Tesoro."
Sweetjane chuckled as she leaned over to brush her smiling lips against his. She sought out something in one of the vest's inner pockets. There, some tobacco and a few roller papers in a slim wallet looking case. She hands it over to her husband, "Yer better at rollin'em den I am an' we done smoked all de cartons."
He gave a look of fake annoyance as he took the case anyway, drawing one of the papers and a generous pinch of fragrant tobacco. She could have done it herself if she wanted, just liked the precision of the former surgeon's hands better. She watches as he deftly rolls the cigarette, flicking his tongue to seal the edge. His pierced hairless eyebrow raised quizzically as he brought the cigarette to his lips. "What're ya lookin' at?"
Sweetjane smiled as she mirrored his expression, as she rooted around for the matchbook in the inner pockets. She lit the cigarette for him, hand cupped so it didn't blow out. "Yer so good with your fingas, Chiriklo. Yer tongue too, but I don't think that's 'cause ya were a docta."
The ghoul takes a long drag, tightening his arms around his wife as he gazes upon her fondly with a half-smile. She plucks the cigarette from his lips, deeply inhaling as she returns his gaze. She did a french inhale, pulling some of the smoke back into her nostrils. They both shifted to look at the summer sky and the stars above them.
Ripper ran his index finger over and into the lapel of the vest, leaning up to press his lips to the pink shell of her ear. "Love it when ya wear my things. Ya look so good in'em."
"Oh really?" Sweetjane says sweetly as an almost imperceptible shiver goes down her spine, and in warmth at her core. She took another drag of the cigarette before placing it on his uneven lips. She's almost glad he doesn't have a whole cheek missing, like Arsen, but wouldn't have minded it if he did.
He doesn't say anything, just smiles and leans back further. He pulls Sweetjane as he does, and she gives a surprised yelp. But he still holds her securely, one hand at the dip in her hips and the other trailing down her thighs to rest at her knees. A radiation scarred textured thumb started to stroke the smooth skin of his wife, over the bites and hickeys. Their combined gaze however was on the sky that was slowly turning into dusk. They sat in total silence, watching the twinkling of the first stars to appear. Every so often the cigarette was passed between them until it was no more than a single cherry to be flicked out.
"Hey, no do-do now, not yet Chiriklo." Ripper's hand moved to her soft milky curls, gently combing his fingers though and away from her scarred face, smiling as his eyes started to flutter shut. "Almost don' wanna leave hya, but den again it's too damn quiet. I'm so used to de fahm an' de kids, kinda need dat too."
Ripper nods as he nuzzles against her neck"Maybe I'd rather sleep befo' we gotta get everything ready ta go tomorrow."
"Dat's fair, but still I won't have ya sleepin on me yet." Sweetjane murmurs as she tilts his chin up to press a kiss to his lips.
The ghoul's tanned hand moved to her lower back just under the vest, skimming along the dips and curve of her hips before cupping her ass. Unlike her tits, which shrunk back down to just slightly bigger than they were pre-pregnancy, her ass stayed immaculate, the flesh pliable as he pressed and squeezed. He brought his lips to her ear, whispering "D'ya wanna go back in?"
Sweetjane shook her head as she turned to face him, her delicious thighs flushing red in the glow of the lamplight, pressing her chest to his. She kissed him again, slowly, almost lazily, her tongue sliding against his. She could still taste the tobacco as well as the tarberry wine they’d shared earlier. Sighing into him, she traced his cheek with her thumb, and with her other hand, she reached down between his body and hers, pulling and shifting aside the fabric that separated them.
Seven years together meant that they had memorized every facet of each others' skin by now. Ripper's was slightly chilled by the summer night air, however he was hot against her hand. He hummed against her lips as she pressed herself against the curving, hard length, shifting ever so slightly so the tip teased her petals apart. She drew a sharp gasp at the feeling, reaching down and tilting her hips to guide him inside.
The kiss became more heated, an equal amount of teeth and tongue. The ghoul's hand tightened against his wife's thigh as she rocks forward. His other hand is similarly occupied, slipping into the vest to rub against the peaked nipple. A whine escapes her throat and she pulls him harder into the kiss, moving from his lips to trail tiny kisses along the sharp handsome line of his jaw.
She felt the delicious pressure mounting with every roll of her hips against him. His cock was pressed perfectly along the small pressure point inside her. The feeling was indescribable, as the texture skin of his groin caused such a delightful friction against her clit at the same time. She almost couldn't take it, burying her face into Ripper's neck, her movements growing ever tight and even more urgent. Her skin prickled, her nerve endings were on fire, as she pressed as much of herself as she could against him, feeling everything: the brush of his radiation scarred chest against her own soft smooth skin, the thrum of his pulse against her cheek, even the twitch of his cock inside of her as his belly tightened beneath hers, both of them so so close, both of them whispering curses and endearments between the syllables of each other’s names.
They came like falling, like tumbling down a slope with only each other to cling to, without a care in the world. It was like the first time the pair of them were in this house, after she had found the box of pictures, strung tight with a different sort of tension that was no less them; it was on the couch inside where they truly felt that they were meant for each other.
Likewise sated, Sweetjane raised her head from Ripper's shoulder, smiling at him. His eyes were still half closed, but his own smile was playing on his lips as he smoothed back the curls from her forehead to lightly press a kiss to her temple. She sighs once more, foreign words floated in her head, well not so foreign since she had spent seven years with the Italian man she had married, but still they sounded clumsy in her Cajun accent, "Ti amerò per sempre, Chiriklo."
Redness colored her cheeks as she whispered, "I hope I said it right dis time."
Ripper's smile slowly widened, his eyes open and looking at her with so much affection it caused her to blush even harder. He presses both hands against her cheeks, kissing her forehead, nodding. "Certo, tu sei tutto per me,Tesoro." and then he kissed her once more, long and slow and lingering.
"Let's go upstairs ta bed. We kin worry 'bout packin' tomorra."
(send a dm/reply if you want to be added to my fic taglist)
***
"Oh, Tesoro…"
Said treasure of his took the time to lean back against the wall of his room in the pool house, her feet planted in a wide stance. She idly jingled the lead in her hands, slowly tugging it until Ripper, unable to resist her whether he was wearing the collar it was attached to or not, found himself being drawn to his girlfriend, the tension forcing him to look at her. Sweetjane reaches down to cup his chin in her soft hand, on her face was a soft adoring smile. "Whatja say ta me?"
"Sweetjane, please…" a whispered string of Italian escaped him, before the ghoul sucked in his breath and moaned. His half hard cock twitched halfheartedly against the cage she had locked around him, the key on a leather thong around her neck. The only answer he was given was a soft hum, even as she shook her head.
He ran his hands up her pale exquisite thighs, marveling in the contrast of his tan radiation scarred skin against the pale smoothness of hers. A small disobedience such as this didn't go unpunished however, the slap against his cheek had the opposite effect… He wanted to touch her even more. Even so, Ripper placed his hands on his own lap, looking at her through his hungry, hazel eyes.
"Come on," he pleads with her. "Yer my treasure… let me show ya how yer precious ta me. Just a little touch."
Sweetjane instead pulls him even closer to her, until she could feel his warm ragged breathing against her thighs and over her lacy panties. "Show me how bad ya wanna touch me."
"Jesus, just your thighs alone. Love yer tits but fuck…." He desperately wants to move his head and kiss those thighs but right now, he wants to show her how desperately he wants it. "… Yer thighs being so thick in combination with that ass… Damn, more'n make up fer it. I just can help but wanna feel them. Hell, I'd be dyin' with a smile on my face if ya'd smother me with them, even squeeze them a little too hard."
He brushed the piercing on his nose bridge against her cunt, the sudden contact sending a jolt of pleasure through her that made her knees buckle. She patted his cheek, smiling as she said. "I guess I kin let ya have a little touch… no mouth. Just yer hands only."
She didn't have to say it twice, his hands were instantly on her thighs. He stroked up the backs of those same thighs from her knees to her ass, cupping her ass cheeks and pressing his fingers into the soft smoothness of the curves of her body.
"I'd 've dropped the bombs myself for this ass," he whispers against her, continuing his strokes and kneading of her flesh. "I could spend all night just worshippin' ya. Touchin' ya, stroking ya… eattin' ya up."
Sweetjane slackens her hold on the lead just a tiny bit to stroke herself, pulling the lace aside to tease him further. "Ya hungry? Wouldja eat and stroke me here too?"
Ripper releases a low groan, squeezing her even tighter, shifting his hips reminding him of the near painful denial encasing his cock. He forgot about the damned cage he was so enraptured by her. "Oh would I! What I wouldn't do to yer cunt. Whatever you want. I'll be here until I'm shakin' and my legs fall off, I'd give everything I own just for the privilege to see it."
"Oh, really," Sweetjane opens her legs a little wider. "Everythin' ya own?"
"If I'm lyin' I'm dying." He says raggedly, closing his eyes in hope.
"Ya'd better not be dead." She tugs the lead again until his lips were resting over her cunt. "Because I need ya to prove it… usin' yer tongue."
Just a small warm up style scene. Too small for a cut. Title's Learics come from Jean by Oliver.
***
The ghoul was woken up by sudden movement to his left. He batted his yellowed hazel eyes blearily and lifted his head from the pillow. There on the edge of the bed was his wife, the most beautiful creature ever made, and at her breast was the third most beautiful thing he had made.
"They okay? 'Cause they didn't cry or nothin'." Ripper mumbles, sitting up and moving to rest his chin on Sweetjane's shoulder. The baby's midnight blue eyes moved to look at their father for a moment, before settling back to their task.
"Dat's cause dey didn't," His wife says. " I was thirsty my own self an' went ta go make myself a Nuka-cherry. Came back in hya and thought hey maybe dey needs some too." Soon enough the baby unlatched, sleep. Sweetjane carefully adjusted herself, placing the baby on the opposite shoulder. She hummed and rubbed their back gently.
Ripper hummed in agreement, placing his lips to kiss the soft black curls of the three week old newborn. They gurgled in their sleep in return.
"'Cain't stop lookin' at'em. Dey's so tiny compared ta ya."
"Oh, I don't think that they'd be little forever. Thinkin' they're gonna turn out tall."
"De Tallest. Taller den Edward and Charon. Just another tall Chiriklo walkin 'round. What eva am I goin' ta do?"
Ripper gave a little chuckle at imagining one of his kids being the tallest around here. "You bet, Tesoro. That's what makes them bein' tiny great."
Ripper reached out and lightly stroked the tiny rosy cheek. They’d been so dark and wrinkled as a newborn, but over the last few weeks their skin had smoothed out to a light golden tan. He had a feeling that their eyes were going to stay blue, maybe a little darker in color than their mother's and with less grey than hers too.
"Still think dey is the best thing we ever did, even more so den gettin' married."
"I agree." Ripper whispers. Sweetjane gently passes the little literal miracle baby to him. She got up to go toss the bottle into the reuse bin, and the cap in the caps jar. There's a split moment when he thinks he woke them up, but they only yawned and nestled into his chest.
This fic rewrite and Title was inspired by An Old Fashioned Love Song by Three Dog Night. Part Two (Wedding Night) here.
***
Sweetjane was pacing the room in the poolhouse that Crow shared with Arsenic, muttering and shaking her head, gesturing wildly at the pale ghoul. " I don't think I kin do this. It didn't turn out the right way before." She looks out the window at the set-up going on. " I think bein married is a cuss fer me." A string of French and Romanes followed, as Crow waited patiently for her to sit back down so they could finish her hair.
"I can't believe this is actually happening," she mutters, still pacing about the room.
"It's gonna be fine," Crow lays a gentle hand on her shoulder and guides her back to the chair. "Joey's survived this long. I don't think gettin' married to ya is gonna be anything but good. Now I need ya to sit back down so I can finish your hair."
Sweetjane let out a hissing breath, wishing she could have just one cigarette. She promised herself that she wouldn't smoke on her wedding day. She obeyed, sitting as far as the dingy stained tulle would allow without wrinkling. "I can run away an we could elope. Dere's still time ta go in do dat thin instead."
"You'd still be married, Sweetjane. Elopin's the same thing just without the other people." Crow cajoled through a mouthful of unbent bobby pins.
"Yeah, but there wouldn't be any people. I could just hop inta my bus with'im and drive all de way ta Diremall and ya couldn't stop us."
"I'm sure ya can. But then again ya'd still be married in Diremall. It'd be the talk of the farm for the next century." Crow said as they coil the milky curls into a crown braid. With a steady hand they slid various wildflowers into the thick plait and pulled some errant curls down to frame the pale scarred face. "What are ya gonna do about the kids if you decide on this caper?" They wonder aloud as they sit Sweetjane on a stool to start on her makeup.
"We're takin dem o'course. De bus is big enough fer de four of us." She mumbled as she closed her eyes so the ghoul could work a different sort of artistry on her eyelids. Just then one of said children opened the door. Amy was excited to be a junior bridesmaid and wanted Sweetjane to tie her dikhlo so it looked like she was wearing a bun. She had brought with her some pilferred tarberry juice that she was allowed to drink for the ceremony.
"Thought you were thirsty." The young ghoul said.
"Amy, Sweetjane's plannin' on takin' ya and your dad and Cody and gettin' married somewhere else. What'dya think?"
Her step-daughter's eyes grew large and looked like she was gonna cry. "Don't wanna. We just got here and I don't wanna go again. 'Sides Cody won't let you go neither."
"Whelp, guess it's decided den. I'm not really gonna leave an take ya with me Bebe Racka," Sweetjane said as she carefully poured herself some of the juice before Crow started on her lipstick. "I'm kinda afraid of what Arsen would do if we don't at least stay and eat the food."
"Oh he'd definitely follow you. He did build that menu specifically for this party and you will not take all that work from him. Probably drag you back kicking and screaming to just to make you enjoy it before you elope." Scarred fingers took Sweetjane by the chin to steady her head. They began to apply the tube to her lips, grateful that she could finally be silent and not protest. After they finish, they pull their lips into a grim smile of warning. "Ya'd also rob me of the chance ta see Joey cry like a bitch at the sight of ya in this dress. If that happens I'm gonna join my fiance in slowly dismemberin you."
"Khul," Sweetjane whined. "Ya just gone and did my makeup and if he cries, I'll cry and it'll get ruined. Ya don't want me ta ruin my makeup ya just did, do ya?"
"If that's what happens then yeah I'm just gonna have to pay the price for that. Here", they hand her the last sip of tarberry juice. "I'm sure that this time nothing will happen, that you will walk out those doors and out into the woods and then you are gonna get married to the real love of both of your lives."
Sweetjane nods at the pale ghoul's words. They were right.
"And you're gonna do it in front of everybody here because we love you and want to share in ya'lls happiness."
After Sweetjane tied Amy's dikhlo in just the way she wanted, she took a breath and stepped out of the doors.
***
They were right of course, Ripper did in fact start crying the moment he saw Sweetjane at the end of the aisle on Arsenic's arm. She fought it for a bit, but then as she stood in front him and felt the warm scarred hands in her own did she give up and let the tears fall.
They could barely hear the short ceremony Wiseman read for them, and just barely remembered to repeat their vows. Oh they definitely remembered being told to kiss. Ripper took took her by the waist and dipped her backward as he did so. She, smiling through the tears, wrapped her arms around his neck and returned the kiss. They were happy, in love, and yes... this was finally right.
***
On a balmy summer evening just outside of the tarberry bog, Joseph "Ripper" Trumoil is telling a story.
It's not just any story, being a tale in which he doesn't even have the starring role. It's also not just any summer evening, as the party is an occasion that was marked by bursts of white flowers and spools of glittering ribbons and paper lantern arranged so they looked almost floating that cast the whole affair in a radiant, golden glow. Right there and now, he's so enthusiastic in the telling that he's nearly knocked over an entire tray of homemade mutfruit wine not once or twice but three times in the process. He's telling their assembled guests a story about the most beautiful, incredible, miraculous smoothskin who was now his newly-vowed wife.
Sweetjane has always loved to hear Ripper's stories. From their first night together, curled tight on the bed in his room that for now belonged to Cody and Amy, when the sound of his voice lulled her to sleep as she had settled into him, she loves to hear the deep husky voice tell stories. Which story doesn't matter much to her; it could be something that happened in the old world, or another one of his exaggerated exploits, or even, to her own private giddy delight, an exaggerated version of their own travels. She loves them all, because she loves to hear him tell them.
Even now, as he's telling a story of the latter, she's enthralled by the sound of his voice, the cadence of his speech sweeping her up with the rest of the crowd. Ripper laughs as he draws one of her knives with a flourish - when did he take that, Sweetjane wonders, if only for a moment before he sweeps her up, smiling and laughing. His untempered joy is incredibly infectious as he passes the hilt towards her. She takes her knife from him and holds out her other hand, which Ripper takes, and he holds her steady as she steps onto her chair before snatching up one of the bottles of wine. With a motion, she tilts the blade and sweeps the blunt edge towards the neck of the bottle, forward and up with a flick. The cork breaks cleanly from the neck, and she pours the sparkling wine into the glasses clustered on the table below to the sound of cheers.
When she turns back towards ripper, she expects to see him laughing just as loudly as everyone else. At the sight of his soft smile and the adoring gaze of his yellowed hazel eyes, Sweetjane feels her cheeks blush crimson. She gives a small bow as Ripper winds an arm around her waist as he brushes his lips against her scarred cheek. He was trying to distract her from noticing that Arsenic, Viorel, and Wiseman had left. He thought maybe they were planning to kidnap him for an hour or two and share some of the whiskey together. He places another kiss this time closer to her mouth, and he speaks in just above a whisper, so softly that Sweetjane nearly misses it beneath the excitement of the party. "You were perfect. Yer perfect."
It still thrills her, almost unnerves her, to see him look at her like that. Not even Joel ever looked at her like that. He'd done it the first time he saw her in her dress with the jacket he had given her from Crow's old house over her shoulders. He did it again as they stood together at the ceremony, and during the moment when they'd stolen a kiss before the rest of the party started. Perhaps that's what's most confounding, if she allowed herself to think on it, is that Ripper, a man of so many words and stories, every so often looks at her as if she's stolen the words from him.
She hasn't noticed that the men have returned nor that they were gone at all.
The thought stays with her through the evening, through every dance, every drink, every well-wish and congratulations. The thought disappears at the end of the party as he scoops her up and carries her across the farm and down to were the abandoned diner stood. He carried her in through the door and over the threshold, and took one look around and felt tears start to well in his eyes.
The day before they had just finished fixing it up and it had no furniture. Now there were three beds and a radio and two drawers and her instruments. He finally had something he'd been wanting for 217 years. A house with the woman he loved and who loves him and both his kids, everything was finally perfect for him. It still felt not real, like it was all a story that was just about to end. That is until he felt the soft pale hand of his wife wipe away his tears of joy. Yes, she was his wife now, his tesoro.
And he couldn't wait to start this new chapter to his story with her.
Ripper is concerned for his wife's health and they travel to vault 81 to find out.
Featuring @voidthewanderer's Ripper.
Rating: T
Word Count: 1445
Warnings: Mentions of possible SA, Mentions of possible infidelity, pregnancy discussion, cancer discussion
***
Something was off about his wife.
Ripper thinks as he sits and watches her tie a headscarf on Amy. They had been together almost two years and married for nearly one. He knew and memorized every aspect of her, every curve and dip in her body. He even knew her monthly feminine schedule, enough that he made sure to have enough salty and sweet snacks and a water bottle at the ready.
But she hasn't had need of that for almost two months. That could mean a myriad of things, not just what he had been suspecting. Besides, despite his near forgotten medical knowledge in that area, it was impossible. Well, maybe not completely impossible for her. He was sure she had been faithful since they had gotten together unless... he didn't want to think of it. Surely if she had been, she would have said something, and he would have torn whoever hurt her apart. His physician's mind also led somewhere else, to another option that he had dreaded. That Sweetjane may have some form of cancer.
He wouldn't know what to do if that turned out to be the case. But it is the most likely explanation for the two missed periods, the small hard roundness in her lower belly he had felt every so often when they lay down for the night, as well as the tiredness she was constantly feeling. She wasn't complaining of nausea nor was she requesting any specific food from Arsen. She just eating as normal. He might as well say something, waiting until Sweetjane had finished and Amy had left.
"Sweetjane." He says her name is such a way ot causes her to pause, turning to look at him with a gentle smile on her face.
"What'd ya need, Rippa?" she says , starting to head back to their room for another nap.
Fuck, how was he going to say this? "Did anything... happen while I was away? Two maybe three months ago? When I went on that long scavvin trip with Arsen and the others?" The expression on her face turned to confusion.
"No. Nothin unusual happened. Why..?"
"If anythin did, ya don't need to hide it. Just tell me and I'll kill'em."
"What're ya talkin'bout?" she sounds annoyed. "We weren't attacked or nothin', an I didn't leave de farm. Dere's too much work ta do round hya."
If they weren't attacked and she didn't leave then that means... "Sweetjane, ya know I was a surgeon before... You've missed two of your uh, monthly periods, and you may not have noticed it but I have."
"Noticed what?"
"If you weren't attacked, please just," he swallows a hard lump. If she had been unfaithful, he'll forgive her this one time and the baby is his. "...Just tell me. I'll forgive you this once, but the baby is mine and I don't want you to see him again."
A string of curses left her mouth in both chib and French, but her tone was more annoyed and angry than of someone who had been caught. "Dere's no man other than ya an dere's no baby. Dat's crazy talk. I'm too busy round hya to go roamin on ya." her expression changed from anger to hurt. "If ya think I'm lyin axe Crow. I know dey'd neva lie ta ya and ya'd believe dem. If Arsen hadn't gone witcha, I'd say axe him too. He definitely would have said somethin to ya if I was sleepin round on ya. Wiseman too."
He decided to believe her. Crow most definitely would have pulled him aside if they'd noticed anything. There were also no signs or news of a raider attack on the settlement when he had returned. So that just leaves...
"Tesoro, I believe ya. So the next thing I have to say is..." Jesus, this was hard. He gets up to hug her. At first, she stiffens, still angry at his accusations but returns his embrace all the same. "... We're goin ta Vault 81. Ya said you were an honorary member of that one, right? Somethin about savin one of the kids?" He feels her nod against his chest. He reaches up to stroke her hair in the spot he knew would make her relax. Tears started to well in his eyes for what he had to say next. "I only ask 'cause... I think as a former doctor, you might have a cancer. I don't know what kind, I don't have the tools for that. Other than the two missed periods, your sleepin' a lot and ... you might not have noticed but there's swelling in your lower stomach. I've felt it. Ghouls are sterile you know or at least highly infertile. I've heard talk of a Saint Monica in the Capitol Wasteland, some chick whose parents are both ghouls. But that may be a myth or someone's con. So if you weren't assaulted or cheating than it has to be cancer or some sort of other medical issue. I know you have some cultural hang-ups about doctors, but if you don't go I'll make you. Even if I hafta tie you to the cart."
She pulls back a little to look into his eyes. "I'll go. Juss don't tell de kids why til we come back, jus in case it turns out ta be nothin." She pauses. She sounds so tired and small. "Ya kin tell Crow an Arsen, I know ya were goin ta anyway, an we need ta tell Wiseman why and where we are takin Molly and de wagon." She shifts to kiss his scarred cheek. "I'm sure it'll be nothin. Don't you worry."
***
Wiseman insisted that they leave as soon as possible. Cody had an inkling on why his dad and Sweetjane were leaving. They told him they had to go to some vault so that Sweetjane could get some tests and they would be back as soon as possible. He didn't know why though but he reassured Amy that they were just going there to trade and would be back soon. She still cried in Crow's arms as their father and stepmother left and only stopped when he said he'd play her one of the songs Sweetjane was teaching him.
Later when they reached the edge of the city, Sweetjane remembered something.
"Dey won't let ya in. I could try ta convince Gwen since yer my husbint, but there's no guarantee since yer a ghoul. Ghouls aren't allowed in vaults." Ripper wraps an arm around her and pulls her close.
"Don't worry about it. I'll try to find a way in. If I can't I'll bother'em every hour they're so annoyed, they'll have to let me in."
Sweetjane let out a small chuckle. "Don't. Maybe dey get so annoyed dey won't let me out to de couyon outside."
"Then I'll fight every guard until I find you and take you away. You'd probably hafta go ta the doctor in Diamond City then."
***
She was right though. Ripper begged and pleaded even tried to bribe, but he still wasn't allowed inside. So, for the next few days he camped out in the wagon outside. Every few hours, he'd go to the intercom to ask for news about his wife. He was told, more often than not, that there wasn't any news.
Don't they realize how badly he needs to know that she's fine? That all she had was some benign cyst or fibroid and she isn't dying? That they can go home and have a laugh and throw a party? That he hated having to lie to his kids and that when they come back, he was going to hug the three of them for hours because he wasn't going to lose any of the people he loved most? That he...
He looked up when he thought he saw movement in front of the cave entrance. Then he got to his feet and ran. There she was, looking as if she was in some sort of trance. She returns his hug as if she just learned what a hug was. She says something but he's so happy to see her he didn't hear what she said.
"Rippa," she pushes him away. "It's not canca or any other black thin."
"That's great news! Maybe it's just a fluke and we can forget about it." He says kissing her all over her face. Her eyes stay wide and unfocused. He steps back when he notices she's not returning his enthusiasm. Shit, something else must be wrong because why is she acting so strangely.
