"But-!" Spoon began.
"Please." Charon's tone brooked no argument. Spoon bit her lip, watching worriedly as the ghoul lowered himself to the ground with a grimace.
Spoon sat down beside the ghoul with a graceless thud. She folded her arms, resting her elbows on her knees as she looked sideways at Charon. The ghoul had his eyes closed, head tilted back against the wall as he breathed a little harder than Spoon was used to.
"I'm sorry about all that. Are you gonna' be alright?" she asked softly. Charon nodded, eyes still shut. Spoon watched his chest rise and fall, surprising even herself with the desire to touch him; to offer some sort of comfort, regardless of how feeble.
What comfort could she give him, anyhow? She was just a scavenger, a wasteland rat. Couldn't even take care of her own gun, let alone the ghoul sworn to her service for good or ill. Spoon shifted downward into herself, feeling altogether like a very sorry state of human being.
A murmured curse from the ghoul snapped her out of her self-loathing, and lit up the practical scavenger's mind with worries and fears anew for her...friend?
Could she even call him that? Hell, did she have the right to call him that? Doesn't really matter right now, she concluded inwardly, daring to put her hand timidly on his bare arm.
He flinched and his eyes shot to hers, questioning. "Just...just making sure you're okay." she said hesitantly.
The smile he offered her, quick as it was, almost made her gasp in shock.
"I'll be fine, smoothskin. Just let the rad-water and Stims do their job." he said, apparently not noticing the effect of his smile on her.
Spoon took a chance and left her fingers curled around his arm. He didn't seem to mind at all, but a low sound that might have been a sigh rumbled through his chest when she gave his arm an appreciative stroke.
"Sorry," Spoon whispered, and then, "you have really nice arms."
She felt like kicking herself when Charon snorted derisively, "Oh yeah, best in the business," and then pointedly curled his arm to tense his muscles under her palm. She was silent for a moment, beet red as Charon seemed to play mental catch-up. "...that was a serious compliment, wasn't it."
"...maybe?"
"Well, then I guess my 'not bad yourself' is also a maybe?"
Charon had no idea what he was doing. Spoon was...confusing. The rad-water was patching him up along with the Stims, but it was making him sloppy. Lightheaded even. He disliked the feeling. He was almost flirting with his employer, rewarding her boldness with a languid ripple of muscle and practically purring when she touched him. It was empowering to hear her breathing quicken, feel the timidness in her barely shaking hand. She was fully aware of how powerful he was. She of all people was fully aware, and yet...
She didn't seem afraid. No more than she would be touching any other man. The tremble of her fingers on his fever-hot skin just seemed to be regular in a woman that was dealing with a previous blast of adrenaline. That in and of itself was a heady thing to Charon.
Spoon wanted to touch him, and not out of fear or pity. She was...she might be attracted to him. Him!
Few and far between were his female employers, and none of them had been sound mentally. It was strange to be around a woman who was...in a relative aspect, normal. She wanted to touch him. She wanted him to speak his mind, to tell her when he was distressed or at a disadvantage so she could help him. Like she cared, and not only because he was her fuck-shit-up machine.
She cares. The thought made Charon stiffen. It was almost frightening, in a way. He might mean something to someone now. Someone might worry about him if he got hurt. More importantly, he might care more than the contract dictated he had to if a certain someone else got hurt.
Fuck. What if he cried? What if he did that whole, "I can't live without you" business as he buried his face in her hair and wept poetically for what he had lost?
Charon almost snorted at that. Her caring about me isn't gonna' turn me soft.
...I hope.
A hand gently squeezed his arm again, interrupting his train of thought. Charon kept his face bland as he carelessly flexed his bicep against her grip. He grinned inwardly at the expression on her face. She clearly hadn't expected him to be this agreeable with her. She had probably thought he would tell her to fuck off. Her fingers danced across his arm, down to his wrist which she then pulled closer to her face, presumably to examine the intricate patchwork that was his flesh and muscle. He waggled his fingers bemusedly, watching her face light up as she traced the individual muscles up the inside of his forearm to his elbow.
She is somethin' else.
For all he cared, Spoon could study his miraculous musculature 'til the sun came up.
AN: My most sincere apologies on the late update! I've been in the process of moving and a few things were misplaced. Enjoy!