EDITED:17/06/13.
After everything Boone and Annie had done for the Freeside community, the Garret Twins were more than happy to shout all their drinks. This allowed Boone to go as hard as he liked, knowing fully that Francine had rented him their first room for only five caps. He didn't have to go back upstairs and deal with the succubus that had recently molested him due to her being a manic sensualist, and boy, was he excited (as excited as Boone could be) to have a bed to himself.
Annie didn't sleep as much as him, and that said something considering he rarely slept at all. They just lay there and stared at the ceiling, matching each other's breaths subconsciously so the other thought they were gone. Annie got up a lot during the night though, rustling around in their packs for cigarettes and only returned to smoke them tiredly beside him.
"Troubles with your girl?" Old Ben was shooting scotch next to him. Annie had smooth-talked both of the men (the men being Santiago andOld Ben) into working at the Wrangler. Ben didn't seem too pleased with himself, but that was from a reason Boone didn't bother to wonder about.
"Not my girl." He replied, watching Francine push him another glass. The old man next to him laughed, nudging him with his elbow.
"That's not what she says." Ben pressed forward.
"She's wrong." Boone said curtly, staring into the dregs of his earlier drink. Wait, what? "… What's she been saying?"
"Well, that sure did catch your attention, didn't it?" Old Ben leant on his elbows, resting against the bar. "She hasn't said anything personal, relax." Francine was leaning on her side of the bar, listening intently – even though she wasn't exactly welcome in the conversation. "But she talks a lot – and being an old guy like me, you pick up on a ladies little signs."
Boone didn't need to say anything, because Old Ben liked to talk. In comparison to the tired looking man in the beret, the jack-of-all-trades was a wise sage - the answer to all problems because he had already been there and done that. The alcohol Boone had already ingested took the edge of a bit. He was thankful he didn't have to talk, preferring to listen warily to the dark-skinned man beside him.
"Now women... Women are complicated things. They were like this before the war, and they'll probably be like this for the rest of eternity."
Francine Garret suddenly lost interest, a sneer on her face at the shaded sexism.
"Now your girl has already told me all about herself, and from what I can gather is that she's going through a very confusing time. She looks like a little fighter but she's just a pussycat. Loves to talk though, doesn't she?" The man swirled his glass in his hand, and Boone grunted in agreement. "Good for men like you, because you don't talk much yourself, do you? Bad for men like me, because conversations tend to get very one-sided very easily." He chuckled at his own words.
Annie did talk a lot... In fact, that's all she did. If she wasn't talking, she was smoking, and if she wasn't smoking she was sleeping. It had only been a week and he knew more about her than he did most people in his life. He didn't know if that was a good thing or a bad thing... Both, he supposed.
"I don't know if you've picked this up yet, but Annie needs a little control in her life. Now don't take this the wrong way, son, but I've seen how flustered she makes you. Your face doesn't say much, but in this dingy place I can see right through those glasses you insist on wearing." Boone placed his cup on the bar, looking at the man incredulously. "If you want this to stop you're going to have to take control. Don't let her walk all over you – she needs a little guidance… Seen it before, dealt with it myself. All you need to do is assert your dominance."
If he weren't so rigid, Boone would have cackled with laughter. Assert his dominance? What did Ben want him to do? Pull her hair and call her names?
"I don't need this."
"Of course you need this, son, it's a life experience! If she's willing and able then why shouldn't you give it a go? By the look in your eye, and the beret on your head, I gather you've seen some things. It's not like a war hero to become flustered by a little girl. Don't embarrass yourself in front of the Mojave, boy, that's the last thing you want."
That struck a chord. He was already a fool to the Mojave; a war criminal and a murderer. How could a little girl with a pleasure complex control him, a monster? She wasn't even a genius, but she had him wrapped around her finger. The thought made his brain boil - how could he let a little girl step all over him? It was him constantly busting his ass trying to save hers and he knew he had to do something about it. It didn't help that the alcohol had turned his thoughts to slow moving ridiculous theories.
Boone's eyes scanned the scratched bar with little bravado. Anna was an ex-Khan that didn't know anything about Bitter springs or what he had done. He could have murdered her whole family and she wouldn't know any different. If anything, he held her life in his hands and it was his to keep. Yet she played with him like hewas the toy. The warmth from the scotch soaked through his stomach and into his blood, keeping him warm and pink-cheeked under the dim lights. There was a strange epiphany; he shouldn't be scared of some babbling brat with an inability to shut up. If what Old Ben was saying was true, all Annie needed was firm guidance into not being such a hassle.
"Hey," Boone caught Francine's attention. "Don't need that room anymore."
The woman shot him a look from under her eyebrows and Ben grinned – pleased with his work. At least he still got some pleasure from sitting around a bar all day. Not that he was toying with the man – no! He was adding a little life to the stony sniper who looked like he needed a good time.
Bidding a very quiet goodnight to Old Ben, Boone travelled up the stairs on light feet. Fuelled on alcohol-drenched confidence, he pushed through their bedroom door. Annie was still on the bed, sitting in her underwear with one leg crossed over the other.
She perked up at his appearance, her brown eyes skimming over his face with amusement.
"Hello, soldier. How were your drinks?"
Boone said nothing, taking off his sunglasses and placing them on the desk near the door. This made her sit up, closing her book awkwardly enough for it to puff out a noise.
"You're drunk, aren't you?" She laughed, crawling onto her hands and knees so she could sit back on her calves. The dim lighting of the room gave her that foreign look again, like a curly-haired vixen waiting for him on the bed. No, no, this was about him- he would be in control.
He unbuckled his belt, testing the waters to see how hard her face twisted. The breath was sucked out of her, eyes directly on the skin that appeared from his un-tucked shirt. "Boone..." She leant back. "You're drunk."
"I'm not." His voice was as clear as day, and she let out a groan at the thought. Annie was fighting the great fight in her brain, one side telling her that this man was drunk and still not over his dead wife, and the other was telling her to take advantage of his damaged soul with as much haste as possible.
Her eyes trailed up the hair that crept from his pants, chewing her tongue with clipping teeth. She supposed it all made sense - the way he acted when she burst in and took off clothes... She felt the situation was harmless... But Boone... He probably thought it was a great big 'fuck you' to his inflexible sexual prowess. Now he was back to get revenge. And strangely, she was okay with that.
Standing up shakily, she floated to him and dropped to her knees. He looked down at her, actually surprised that she would listen to him. He didn't even have say anything, she just commanded herself into a position where he was the boss. He was in far too deep to stop now, the bad feeling sitting in his stomach like a bad lunch, because Annie wasn't stopping. She had her hands running up his inner thigh, face laced with concentration and savour.
She looked up at him with those big eyes; finally able to see the freckles that spattered across her nose close up. He shrugged at her, and she shrugged back (Yeah, sure. Why not?), running her hands over the button to his pants. She was chewing her bottom lip, slightly stunned by the nature of the situation, waiting for Boone to snap and push her away. But he didn't.
"And you're sure you're okay with this, soldier?" Her fingers were the stillest he had seen them, gently wrapping around his zip as her other hand popped the buttons easily. With a mind of its own, his hand placed itself on the top of her head, slipping down to nudge her closer.
Her lips slid into a pleased grin and she pressed her face into him – earning a soft jerk and a twitch from the man. "You're gonna enjoy this." She told him, tugging the zip down. "I promise."