Authors Note:
Things are getting steamy...
How long can this tension last?!
"You don't get it." His voice slid out of his throat; rough, gravelly, somehow soft.
Usually that tone, the heat underneath it, did something for me. Today, however, it did not. I crossed my arms and leaned against the wall. Anger coursed through me hotter than I could ever remember. Hotter than it had when I'd found Nate's dirty magazine stash, than when my teacher told me I couldn't have a particular case because I 'am a woman and don't understand the complexities of the male psyche', angrier than when I was on hold with Vault-Tec for four hours, went through seven different representatives and then was hung up on.
"Then explain it to me, Hancock." I was breathing deeply, evenly. Counting the seconds of each inhale and exhale.
I was going to murder this man. Kill him. Use his entrails to decorate for Halloween, Super Mutant style. He ran a hand over his bald head, a habit from when he had been a smooth skinned, blonde haired hunk. It was endearing, which made me rage all the more.
"Look sister-" He cut himself off, his hands twisting in on themselves, his eyes shifting. He sighed heavily, "I don't know how to talk to you sober, you won't understand."
I rolled my eyes, kicking off from the wall and taking a seat across from him. His black gaze captured me, I could see the struggle and torment swimming in their depths. My rage ebbed as I leaned back against the metallic side of the trailer. The raging rad storm outside soothed my mind despite the pricks of nausea from the radiation.
"Hancock… We've been traveling together for a while now. And never have you ever done something that stupid before." I sighed, my eyes trailing over the ceiling of our temporary shelter.
Rust had begun forming around the bolts and seams holding the thin metal sheets together. The skeletons of a couple huddled on one side painted a grisly scene when we had to kill the feral ghoul that had been trapped inside. Old blood crusted the walls, impossible to remove; baked in by the storms and sun and time.
"I know." His voice was a heavy whisper.
Thrills ran up my spine. I narrowed my eyes, avoiding him. Crushes were stupid.
"You almost got us killed."
"I… yeah." His argument died on his lips with a wince.
"So, once again I'm going to ask – what the Hell is going on with you?"
He sighed again, his hands pulled a Jet inhaler from his pocket. He fiddled with it some, sent me a sheepish frown and put it away when he caught my glare.
"I'm a ghoul." He whispered, his voice nearly drowned out by the roar of the weather behind us.
"Yes. You are." I sat a little straighter, my head now taking on the dull throbbing it did when a storm lasted too long. I missed regular thunderstorms. "And?"
He stood, pacing, fiddling with his hat before putting it back on. The lightning cracked green across the sky and lit his silhouette up like a goddamned super hero, or villain. The pain etched into every crease and scar was evident. He breathed deeply.
"This feels good." His eyes closed, his mouth split in a small smile.
My anger was almost completely gone by now. I remained silent.
"I'm a ghoul, doll." His shoulders hitched, "I'm an immortal stuck in a body rotting away around me. I'm surrounded by life and beauty and… and desire and passion and I'm… I'm dying the slowest of deaths."
I opened my mouth but he silenced me with a quick glance, his face was contorted with an emotion I couldn't place.
"I don't think you know what it feels like to fall apart and die. My brain is going to melt one day. I'll turn feral. Before that though, long before that, I'll see everyone I love age and pass away. Anyone I used to know. Except the other ghouls, and we'll all be mad and I'll be… truly alone then."
I kept quiet as the rumble of the rad storm finally started moving beyond us. It was… scary. A surprise. I hadn't ever really thought about how Hancock dealt with his condition, his state of being. If he had been a normal man he would have to be in his late forties by now. Close to his brother's age. Based on his attitude alone he seemed permanently in his early twenties.
"Besides," he continued, sitting beside me now. "The chems don't affect me like they do a normal person. I'm irradiated. They burn fast and just ease the pain."
"So they don't get you high?" My eyebrow cocked.
His red coat splayed around him, one knee supported his hand as he leaned his head far enough back that the wall didn't disturb his hat. His American flag belt contoured to his waist.
"I never said that sister." His voice held a laugh as his eyes closed, "I still feel the chems. Just not like you would. Like you do?"
I shook my head silently. The chems they had now scared me. It was something like getting stoned on jet or even a bit of psycho at a crappy concert. These chems got you addicted almost immediately. That was the great wasteland of America for you. After a terrible nuclear war, let's just make every damn thing more dangerous for the normal, average, everyday person.
"Ahh c'mon." He nudged me with his elbow, leaning in a little. "I could hook you up."
I laughed, pushing him.
A silence stretched between us.
"So, you aren't mad anymore?"
"I'm… not mad." I hesitated, "But you can't be getting doped out in the middle of a fight like that. I almost got killed, Hancock."
He ducked his head, hiding his eyes. "I know sweetheart. It won't happen again. I-" He ran his tongue over his lower, ruined lip. "I like having someone around. You know. You make me wanna stop running away. I'm sorry I almost hurt you."
My heart raced, I ached in a too familiar, unfamiliar way. "It's alright, Hancock." I smiled into the sun reflecting off the mobile trailers wall. "Let's get going again. I don't want to be in this tin can when dark hits."
It was another blustery winter night when I found myself roused by an unfamiliar noise. Immediately I was on edge. We were in a strange house, in a strange town. Curiously I held my breath, trying to understand what was happening. The soft shucka-shucka.
Radroach? I leaned over the bed, grabbing my gun.
My feet were cold against the wood floors, the fire had died down and the breeze was icy. I made my way to the door, where the noise was louder.
"Hancock?" I whispered, looking around.
It took a moment to realize he wasn't in the room. My heart leapt into my throat. Quietly I pushed open the door, peering into the darkness. A pained moan. I froze, fear turning to lust in seconds; my heart hammering for an entirely different reason. I knew what was happening. My body felt aflame at the thought of him touching himself, of what he looked like when he was being pleasured.
I should go back inside. But my feet moved off the porch towards the little shed not five feet away of their own accord. He'll see the prints you idiot. I hesitated my feet burning cold as reality hit me. I'm willing to get caught spying on my partner just because I'm... depraved?! I have more control than this.
Another faint moan and hitched breath nearly broke my will. Immediately I turned around and grabbed an armful of wood, storming back to the cabin I fed the fire till it roared. I grabbed a stone and placed it near the flames. Hancock walked in minutes later, catching me waiting. He froze like a naughty child with his hand caught in the cookie jar.
"What are you doing up?" His eyes narrowed warily.
"It got cold, I thought I heard a radroach. I didn't." Just you jerkin' it. "So I started the fire because my toes nearly froze off."
He smiled a knowing grin and shrugged. He grabbed the stone from the flames despite my protests and put it under the covers for me.
"So you went out in the snow to save me from a radroach?" The mirth in his eyes made me seethe.
"Well!" I crawled into bed, "When you say it that way it sounds stupid!"
"In no shoes?" He tucked the blankets around me, I felt him laughing.
"Shut up." I buried my head, "And don't tuck me in, I'm not a baby."
With horror I watched as he pulled off his own jacket, laying it carefully on a chair. His eyes never left mine. He pulled off his shoes, sitting on the edge of my bed, letting them fall with a thump to the floor, snow melting beside the fire. He turned, climbing into the bed with me.
Wide eyed I watched, never having been so turned on in all my life as I was right then. He stretched out strategically, close enough for me to feel the heat from his skin, not close enough to touch. He watched me with one half lidded eye. Daring me.
"You're warm." I murmured my hand making its way to his palm, despite my body's aware state sleep was overtaking me.
"I know." He responded, quipping, "Radroach. You're full of shit."
I yawned, barely awake. "I know."