She frustrates him, but to be fair, he frustrates her, too. Their relationship (if you can really call it that) seems to be built on equal parts exasperation and fondness. But it works for them. Maybe because they understand the strange dysfunctionality of it.
Neither likes to mention how much they care. Not to the group, not to each other, not even to themselves, but everyone can tell. They're both bad liars.
She brushes it off with a pretty little laugh as though it's possibly the funniest thing she's ever heard. She says it's just another fling. Just one in a long line, not important, neither the first nor the last.
His nearly perpetual scowl deepens, like thunderclouds moving in over his face. His accent becomes thicker as it always does when he's feeling particularly sarcastic or angry or just plain moody. His words become peppered with language not fit for children as though if his speech becomes common enough they all might just leave him the hell alone. But they all know that he's always quietest when he's really angry; this spectacle is just bluster.
Neither of their protests dissuade the others. They know what they know. They've become experts at reading people. Alive, dead, undead, it makes no difference. They're all just people - more alike than not. They've seen the two of them together - the moments of tenderness when they think no one's watching, the way she catches his eye, the way he touches her arm, the silent communication. They're both contemplative, the way people get when they've lived too long and seen so much. She tries to hide it behind pretty smiles and perfect makeup, but he sees it - sees beyond the mask to the cracks below. He understands her because when you get right down to it, they're not so different.
They compliment each other, the way the day compliments the night. She is the brightness, the levity he needs. He is the anchor she needs - solid, reliable - the one she's been looking for all along and didn't know it.
It's ironic; they've found each other decades after they've both expired. And although they'll never admit it, they both think that maybe there really is life after death.
A/N: I have no idea where this came from. I really don't have an OTP in this fandom, and I actually see Rube more as a father figure, but for some reason this idea took hold and wouldn't let up till it was written. Pushy little bunnies.