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Summary:

what does affection look like in the wasteland?

Notes:

(See the end of the work for notes.)

Work Text:

The pair of you had found refuge in some shitty little shack. It's weathered brick walls were mostly intact. It would do for now. It looked like it may have been a mechanics garage back in the day. With the shell of a car in the middle of it. Scraps of tires strewn about the place.

The ghoul searched for anyone or thing there. As soon as it was clear, you plopped down onto an old leather rolling chair. It squeaked and groaned, but it was surprisingly comfy. The brown leather worn but still supple. It reminded you of his face. You mention it to him.

The radioactive cowpoke always stood tall, like he was ready for anything. He wasn’t quite ready for you though. The feelings he had for you he ain’t felt in over 200 years.

He flirted, you flirted back. You kissed his irritated cheek after he did something sweet. Like killing a radioactive something or other that would otherwise kill you dead. He’d roll his eyes and get all coy. The moment never lasted more than a few seconds. He would already move on, shifting focus back to survival.

“That chair and I are not the same cuz I'm one ugly son of a bitch.”

Your eyes quickly roll back into your head.

“Call yourself ugly all you want, but you’re mine. And don’t you forget it.”

You point to his chest.

He stalks over. Legs stop on either side of yours. He looks down at you.

“Well why don’t you go on and give us a kiss then. Jog my memory, darlin.”

His voice was too close. His words; smooth and sinful like sweet wine. He made you dizzy. With that tilt of his head. Slight smirk on his face.

He looked like a movie star. All rugged sex appeal.

You rise from the chair. Eyes locked with his. In his face now.

You reach for his hat grabbing it and placing it on your head. You smirked as if you did something clever.

 

"Uh uh."

 

He kicks the chair backwards. The shock makes you almost trip. You shuffle away and run for the hills out of the brick building.

You want him to chase you and your heart pounds when does. Hearing the sound of his boots jangling forward, your back swivels to see him after you. He finally caught up, grabbing you from behind. He spins you to face him. You melt into his strong arms then he kisses you breathless. His lips were rough but his mouth was hot against yours. You grab the lapels of his duster, deepening the kiss. The next moment, you broke away from his mouth. A wave of exhaustion washes over you.

It was too hot for love or whatever you wanted to call this. What with his rustic cowboy attire and your heavy pants and boots. It was too hot for anything. Not many surface dwellers showed affection in public. What for? There’s no love in the wasteland.

When you passed markets you had noticed a few; smiling and laughing. Some small pockets of humanity in this mad, mad world. You knew deep down it didn’t last. Those same smiling people would be dead tomorrow.

If you died tomorrow, you’d be alright dying like this. The ghoul's honeyed hazel eyes fixated on you as the evening wind cooling your dirty faces.

A low chuckle broke out of him. Yellow teeth showing.

“Always something on your mind, huh?”

You look away; embarrassed that he took notice. He got to know you too well in the wasteland. Down to the basic level.

“It’ll pass, darlin.”

The ghoul straightened his duster. He gazes out onto the distance.

This sudden absence of his hat on your head and his arms around you leaves you so cold. You completely killed the mood. It would just hit you on occasion. The numbness of being alive. That brought on the doubt and fear. How long will the two of you last? How much longer would your life last?

He could just wake up one day and rip your throat out for a hundred caps. He never made any promises or grand declarations of love. You two keep crossing paths. You hunted together, and kissed sometimes. You are holding his hand currently, so you guess it was something more. You let the moments come and go. What else could you do?

He turns back to you already steps far ahead.

He shakes his head and grabs your hand.

 

“Come on.” He mutters.

A quick nod to the shack of brick. It seemed to get swallowed by the miles of sand surrounding it.

He was right, It will pass. But it hurts right now.

Notes:

Walton Goggins made the ghoul so dreamy so I had to do something about it