The first time she had touched him had been by accident, just an innocent graze of her arm on his. Nothing to write home about, right? Only it was pure electric and he knew she had felt it, too, by the way she had gone still. He didn't look at her and she didn't look at him, but his heart was in his throat and he was sure she could hear it pounding.
Nora hadn't meant to touch him, it was an accident, a slip. It only lasted a moment, but it felt as if his touch had been burned into her skin, fire spreading out from the point of contact. She froze, not looking at him. Had he felt it, too? The pounding of her heart was all she could hear. If that one small touch had that effect on her, what would it be like if he held her in his arms? She took a deep breath and walked away trying to act like nothing had happened. She shook her head, trying not to imagine.
The next time Deacon touched her was out of necessity. They had been ambushed by Super Mutants coming back from an op and she had taken a nasty hit to the side from a board that had been turned into a weapon by hammering large, rusty nails through it. She had gone flying through the air like a rag doll, landing in heap several yards away. Deacon saw red. He lost it, decimating every single mutant in a haze of fury. When nothing was left alive he turned his gaze to his partner. She still hadn't moved.
He ran to her, shoving two fingers under her jaw searching for a pulse. He found what he was looking for after a few frantic moments. They weren't safe here, so he scooped her up into his arms and took off. A small cry of pain escaped from her lips, which simultaneously reassured him and worried him. At least she was alive. He found a building that appeared uninhabited, rushing her inside. Someone had obviously stayed here at some point, because there was a dirty mattress pushed into the corner. Whoever had drug it in here hadn't been there in quite some time, as there was a thick layer of undisturbed dust covering the room.
Deacon placed Nora carefully on the mattress, digging through her bag for water, a towel and Stimpaks. He also found some Med-X and pulled that out, too. He turned back to his patient. Her eyes were squeezed shut and he could hear her breathing in and out, slow and controlled. He hesitated a moment too long and she pried opened one eye, trying to see what the holdup was. He took a deep breath and got to work.
Both her flannel and the t-shirt under it were in ribbons and soaked with blood. He could clearly see the blood still seeping from her torn flesh. Trying not to think about what he was doing, he pulled out the knife he kept in a sheath around his ankle and cut away her shirts, throwing them across the room. She wasn't wearing a bra, they were a rare commodity in the Wastelands, so her full, perky breasts were right there in plain view. Deacon swallowed, trying not to get distracted by her hard, erect nipples. He shook his head and turned his gaze back to her injury.
"How bad is it?" He voice was soft, but strong.
"Barely a scratch," he replied flippantly as he folded the towel under her side, below the injury and opened the can of water. "This is probably going to sting a little." He tipped the can, pouring clean water over her ravaged flesh. Nora clutched the mattress, knuckles going white as she forced herself to breath slowly.
"Just a scratch. Hmph. You're usually a better liar," she choked out, looking down her nose at him.
"Just hold still." He smiled a little, taking it as a good sign that she was already talking her normal shit.
Once he had the wound cleaned he injected it with a Stimpak, waited a few minutes and then used one more. He could see the skin starting to knit back together before his eyes, but he knew she was going to be sporting a huge bruise and probably a new scar. "How's the pain? I have some Med-X. If you want to just pass out for bit I can keep watch."
Nora considered his offer. She was in some serious pain and it would be nice to be out of it while the Stimpaks did their work. Part of her felt like it was weak to take the drug, but it really hurt and it would be less of a blow to her pride than the tears that had been threatening. Crying was one thing she absolutely wasn't about to do.
"Yes. Okay. Med-X and a shirt if you can find one. I know the view's nice, but I'm a little chilly." Nora meant the comment as a joke, but she noticed Deacon go still. To her amazement, a slight blush crept up his throat and into his cheeks. Nora would have felt bad if it wasn't the cutest thing she had ever seen.
"Uh, yeah… Of course." Deacon stuttered as he turned to rifle through their bag, pulling out a plain white tee. He tossed it to her and she sat up, inhaling sharply as pain shot through her side. She tried to get the shirt on by herself, but was failing miserably when she felt his hands on her pulling the shirt to rights. As he pulled the shirt down after easing her arm though the sleeve the back of his fingers accidentally grazed the soft flesh of the side of her breast.
Nora shivered, but it wasn't from the cold. For a moment the pain receded and all she could think about was the warmth of his hand on her chilled flesh. She wanted him to put his hands on her, but she could tell that he was freaked. His breath was coming quickly and she could see his hand trembling in the air between them. She didn't know what was wrong, but she did know she didn't want be the source of his pain. She took a deep breath and smiled, shoving down her desire she pointed to the Med-X.
"Time for my meds, nurse." She watched as Deacon's posture changed, visibly taking on the role that she had just offered him as an escape.
"Nurse? I don't even get to be a doctor?" He arched an eyebrow over his sunglasses while he uncapped the syringe and flicked the needle to remove any air bubbles. "Now hold still, it's my first day. Wouldn't want my hand to slip." The small smirk on his face as he put the needle to her skin made her heart race. He pressed the needle into her and slowly pressed the plunger. The drug felt like fire in her veins, burning its way through her body. And then there was no more pain, just Deacon and that smirk.
Deacon could see the moment the drug took hold of her. Her eyes went dreamy and he reached forward, helping to ease her down onto her uninjured side. He was barely holding it together at this point. He was grateful that she had offered him an out, because he was so confused. He hadn't thought he would ever even think about touching another woman after Barbara. Barbara… I'm so sorry, my love.
Nora didn't know about his past, he had done nothing but lie to her, telling one ridiculous story after another. She never believed anything he said, but she also didn't get mad at him or push him away, like everyone else did. She just accepted him, letting him hide behind his disguises and lies with no judgements. It was a strange feeling, being accepted. He couldn't deny that it felt nice. Almost as nice as the soft skin of her… Deacon swallowed, trying not to remember. Her pale skin reminded him of a picture he had seen in an old book of a field covered in fresh, untouched snow. He remembered the feeling the picture had roused in him, how he had longed to run through the field until he had disturbed every inch of snow. He was filled with that feeling again now. He wanted to run his hands over every inch of her until not one part of her was a stranger to his touch. He knew she wanted it, too. Unfortunately, guilt came up hard on the heels of his lustful yearnings, making him feel ashamed. How could he ever want another woman? Not to mention that he didn't deserve it, not with any woman, much less with someone like Nora.
"Deacon," he turned toward his partner, only now realizing in surprise that she was watching him. "Don't be upset with me." Her voice sounded child-like, small and worried. It broke his heart.
"Never." He smiled, trying to reassure her. It wasn't her fault that he was broken. He had only himself to blame for that.
"You can say no, but…" she swallowed loudly, before continuing, "would you hold my hand please? Just for a little bit?"
Deacon's heart was racing. It was so unlike his strong, fearless partner to ask for anything. She always took care of others, asking for nothing in return. She was self-sufficient to a fault. How could he deny her such a small request?
"Of course." He reached out, taking her surprisingly small hand in his much larger one. He always forgot how small she really was because of how big her personality was. "Try to sleep now… dear."
The endearment just slipped out. He sat there as she drifted off, holding her calloused hand in his, fretting about what he was going to do. He couldn't leave his only friend, but he couldn't give her what she wanted either. He held her hand the entire night, only sliding his away when he felt her beginning to wake.