A/N: Another Hozier song title reference

There was that first breath of sanctity- a token of absolute trust and an understanding the situation needed to evolve into something beyond a few slow kisses and the light touch of fingertips across skin. She broke away first, taking his hand and shyly leading him up the stairs to her room, when he paused and hesitated just outside her door.

She asked, "What's wrong?"

He looked at her with a dead-set expression, annoyed she had even asked. "You have ordered me not to enter."

The expression on her face must have betrayed her forgetfulness, for his frown deepened and he let go of her hand to cross his arms, the mood all at once vanishing between them.

"Um." She fiddled with a strand of hair around a finger, inwardly angry at herself for making such a foolish request to begin with…and the can of worms it opened deep inside her brain. She apologized, "You're more than welcome inside my room…our room…if you want."

Charon lowered his arms, the tension in his broad shoulders sloping as he relaxed. He then gave her nudity a full once-over with a smolder that burned as much as it did tease, and they suddenly got straight to nasty business after he closed the dog out and gave her a courtesy grab-of-ass before he spread her apart and made up for lost time.

His cock only got five strokes deep before the entire bed frame snapped and they ended up in a piled heap on the floor, his dick still shoved up her cunt with the tip kissing her sweet spot. He pulled off as she rolled over, and together they surveyed the damage.

"Shall we continue downstairs?" Charon rasped.

She laughed, inspecting the warped metal. "I think we should pay Moira's a visit before she closes shop."

Charon grumbled and rolled his eyes. "I will fix it."

"You can?"

He leaned over, scrutinizing the frame more closely before committing to his oath, and after a few minutes he begrudgingly admitted, "It will need to be replaced."

She teased the tip of his wet dick with a swirl of her thumb down the slit. "The sooner we get back, the sooner we can-"

There was no time for her to finish her sentence as he quickly left to gather his things. She soon followed to retrieve her discarded jumpsuit, looking on in horror as he fought his size into his ridiculously small suit. She glanced over to Wadsworth's laundry bin- it was still overflowing with both of their gear from the night prior.

"What happened to your other clothes?" she dumbly inquired.

Charon didn't look her way as he attempted to zip his dick in his trousers. "Moira's."

"Guess it's a good thing we're going then," she muttered.

They left the house with Charon leading the charge, his long, eager strides leaving her in the dust as she jogged to catch up. A couple of women were crowded together at the railing as they passed, and they both turned around to face the ghoul, one giggling behind a hand while the other bashfully waved at him. Charon either ignored or did not notice the unexpected attention, for he merely kept his steady pace and eyes trained on Moira's storefront. Evelyn was duly ignored the moment he was out of view, and the women turned their backs and began to whisper excitedly to each other as though she were completely invisible.

Charon was already hauling a new frame over one shoulder with his extra uniform under the other, bypassing her just as she reached the top of the hill. She sighed and turned around. The pair of onlookers ogled him again, and Evelyn stomped her boots loudly on the catwalk to ensure she was noticed this time. They did, and she only heard a faint mutter at her back.

"Vault dwellers always think they're someone special."

You think cause you're the doctor's daughter you're someone special, nosebleed?

Evelyn ground her teeth together and clenched her fists as she walked down a tunneled road with blinders on, missing the interaction of Dogmeat making a quick whizz call at the women's rail post (something they were soon squawking over).

Charon had replaced the tired frame, discarded his ridiculous outfit, and was already lying in bed with his cock pointing at the ceiling by the time she had climbed the stairs to their room. The jealous bug that had bitten her was squashed by the look he met her eyes with and the sharp beckoning of his two fingers.

Come here.

Oh, she came, alright.

It was a surprise that the frame didn't buckle a second time as he rolled her underneath him and parted her legs, telling her without words how he had been feeling those past few days by the sharp snap of his hips into hers. A whimper choked her throat as he leaned over and held her down by the shoulders, bucking away and rattling the bed and scratching the floor as he heavily breathed over her face. She closed her eyes and gave a soft oh as she reached down and touched herself, her entire body quivering and toes curling. The fluttery moan was enough for him- he jarringly bottomed out, not so much as giving her a grunt of satisfaction as he merely ducked his head and sighed.

They then sat at the table, with her disappearing under the folds of his shirt while he returned to the comfort of his own pants. An ice-cold Nuka-Cola was sipped as she began to fiddle with her Pip-Boy, but she forewent the map to Vault 112 as she instead peered over to the brick wall of muscle casually seated across, a lit cigarette perched between his fingers and his hooded eyes simply staring at her contentedly. She swallowed and looked back down at her screen.

"I made a route from here to Vault 112. Did you want to look at it?"

A stream of smoke was exhaled through his nostrils as he nodded and took a deep drag while she handed the Pip-Boy over. He turned it around and scrolled the map for a few minutes, occasionally ashing his smoke in the tray at his elbow.

"This will not work," he replied flatly after setting it down.

She furrowed her brows as he didn't extrapolate. "What? Why?"

He slid it back to her and tapped a nailless finger to a vague, empty space between Megaton and the dot Pinkerton had pinned. "That area is not safe," was all he simply said, leaning back in his seat and stubbing the butt of his cigarette out.

She squirreled around the map. "Okay…then how do we get there?"

He again tapped the screen on Megaton's marker before tracing down to Tenpenny Tower.

"We will go south and follow the eastern side," he swiped up, "before going north."

She squinted. "That's so far though. We won't be there for days."

"It is better," he said wisely.

With a sigh, she input the new route he proposed before noting, "I'll spend tomorrow getting supplies. Maybe we can stop by Tenpenny Tower for the second night?"

Charon grunted, but elected to say nothing.

When she had finished her mapping and tilted the rest of her bottle for the remainder of some sparkly fizz, she yawned into her hand and felt his fingertips slowly creeping up her leg.

"I wish to join you," he murmured.

With the tips of her ears burning hotly enough to light her hair on fire, she climbed the steps and dipped onto the mattress with his heavy weight sinking just beside her, and she felt the edges of his shirt lifted above her head and the kiss of his tongue between her thighs. Charon seemed to have found a new nocturnal hobby, which was both a blessing and a curse.

The rattling once again came to a halt, and she rolled over to swipe at a half-empty bottle of water to chug as he reached for his packet of smokes. She soothed her parched tongue and turned to watch him. Never before had she seen the ghoul so at ease- there was that completely different air about him, as there had been back on the grounded aircraft carrier. His scowl wasn't so harsh, and the light of his eyes burned mellow and soft rather than a roaring flame. He lit his smoke and set it to his lips before turning his head to meet her stare. His hand rested on her thigh before sliding between them.

With a weary laugh she shook her head, saying, "I'm exhausted. Aren't you?"

He shrugged but withdrew, and although she expected him to leave, he didn't.

It felt nice.

It felt…right.

Evelyn flopped down beside him and tried to picture the stars just overhead.

It was everything she had imagined a boyfriend to be.

The night soon bled into day, and he was still there when she had awoken, greeting her with a stiff cock and a greedy taste of her mouth.

She attempted to be subtle around town, but even a blind man could see the wince with every step and the awkward limp she carried. Charon burdened her metal crate around Moira's shop as she filled it with essentials for their trip, and it was the weirdest sense of normalcy she had had ever since she had left the Vault…aside from advertising her sore pussy like a flashing neon sign.

Moira dipped something in their crate just as Evelyn drew the drawstrings of her (extremely) light sack of caps closed tight.

Evelyn protested, "But I didn't-"

Moira gave an over-the-top wink. "Just a little something to help out with Mr. Proportionate Bones over here!"

Evelyn ducked her head and awkwardly waved her hand as she limped away, not noticing the dramatic thumbs-up Moira gave the ghoul…or Charon's tiny one in return. They rounded back to the house when she loudly groaned and turned to his questioning look.

"I totally fucking forgot those pair of new boots," she bellyached.

Charon dropped the crate inside before going back up the hill alone.

Evelyn stretched along the railing, her brow humid from the discomfort she felt, and she merely watched the ghoul climb the catwalks- but then he stopped as he was approached by one of the two women from yesterday, and Evelyn leaned over the railing and risked falling to a snapped neck and broken back by how much she strained to see. The woman was clearly suggesting something, going so far as to-

Charon simply interrupted the rest of whatever it was she was saying, and the woman stood there, shell-shocked that something like him could be so brash to someone like her. The ghoul was still a total asshole…but at least he was her total asshole.

He returned with the boots she had left behind, and she curiously inquired as he placed them with the rest of their things, "What did she want?"

Charon took a seat at the table, beginning the process of undoing his laces as he rasped, "It was unimportant." He removed his boots and began to shrug out of his pants, and her eyes widened slightly as he reached inside the bin to toss her the mysterious salve Moira had gifted her.

She missed the catch and squeaked, "I'm a cripple over here, give me some more time!"

He scowled, seriously confounded at her request. "How much?"

She only burst out laughing, and the rest of the day was spent inventorying their supplies. She moseyed around the house in search of her vault suit, unable to find where Wadsworth had stashed it, when she knocked on Charon's door.

The ghoul answered, slathered in grease and oil with an assortment of weaponry on his table, and she politely asked, "Have you seen my vault suit? I can't find it anywhere."

He nodded, turning to the side and opening a locker to reveal it neatly hung up. The suit was spotless, with every hole and tear so very meticulously sewn that it was faintly noticeable, and she looked with intrigue over the modification that had been made to the right forearm. He handed it to her, and she looked up at him in wonderment.

"I designed it for your power fist," he rumbled, awkwardly pointing to the reinforced bracer. "For when you should come to use it."

She held it close to her chest, lowering her head slightly. "Wadsworth wasn't the one making repairs to my suit, was he?"

Charon blinked, as though it were obvious. "No."

"You've been doing it this entire time?"

"Yes."

"…but, why?"

Here Charon didn't have an answer, for he seemed to be unsure himself, and so he turned back to his work with a shrug.

"Thank you," she said softly.

He only nodded, and she would have sworn he was flustered, but she wasn't too sure the ghoul was capable of it. She stepped inside her room, and for once, she couldn't stop smiling.

They did not leave that next day.

Nor the one after that.

…or the one after that.

"Fuck!" she cried, and he saw the way her eyes looked right through him when she came.

He kept going, the squeaking of her bed threatening once and for all to permanently retire after a mere few days of being subjected to constant stress. He grabbed her by the waist and slammed himself to the breaking point, his breathing ragged and eyes far too heavy to see as he finally released her.

They would not be leaving anytime soon after that, either.

"Okay, okay," she gasped as she rolled over and smushed her face in her pillow, her sides laboring and skin prickled with sweat like morning dew. "Time out."

Much to his surprise, she didn't really seem to mind the lackadaisical passage of time. After their initial plans for Vault 112, she never again spoke of it, and he was more than content not to ask. A part of him hoped she had decided not to pursue another dead-end of a lead on her father...but he knew better; it was only a matter of when.

Charon reached over to hand her the little tin from Moira. He popped the lid off and merely watched her swipe a few fingers through the gelatinous ointment to administer down where his cock had just been ravaging her, and she breathed a sigh of pure relief.

"I'm starving." She smiled at him. "Gob's?"

He nodded. "Gob's."

They stayed for three more days, and it was beginning to fester an itch that he dared not scratch. They had plenty of sex, lounged at the saloon, and indulged themselves in being utterly lazy. She had sold every bottle of booze she had collected to restock the bar's shelves in trade for hot meals, and the old smoothskin from the water processing plant would occasionally come knocking at her door with a request for a repair job.

The eyes he felt were ignored. She held his hand and babbled nonstop wherever they went, and he could only dumbly stare down at her, too muddled by this overwhelming feeling electrifying everything it touched, but he listened and tightened his fingers all the same.

Their lips were somehow more together than they were apart- she would be rounding the landing of the stairs up to her (...their) room and bend over the railing so he could tilt his head for a kiss. He would be seated on the end of the couch with her head in his lap and a book in her hands, the pages collecting dust as she continuously lowered it to share a smooch. The tub was always filled to overcapacity, their legs tangled and their eyes closed and her chest on his as they exchanged long, drawn-out caresses until the water grew cold. She had attempted cooking, and he had given her an honest opinion on her lack of culinary skills. She became offended and flung a lob of freshly churned brahmin butter at his face, and she then shrieked and giggled as he chased her up the stairs and to the bed, the frame wearily sighing at the antics to come. Charon laid in bed every single one of those nights, listening to her gentle breathing and the echo of the lonely wind, and he decided that he was happy.

This was happiness.

He wanted to be happy forever.

"Charon."

But he knew that was but a simple dream.

She had dressed in her vault suit, with the Pip-Boy strapped snug and her pack set to go.

"Are you ready?" she asked.

He nodded. His gear had been stowed in its proper place in his workshop, his guns and knife and ammo ready to be awakened from their soft lulling spell, much as his had been. It only took a few minutes to equip himself, the armor and straps and satchels somehow feeling slightly foreign.

Evelyn had opened the door and called for the dog, but he did not show. It must have taken off again. She chewed her lip in worry, ready to embark on a lone search-and-rescue effort when Charon stopped her before she could sprint out the door.

"I will find him," he assured her. "He always comes back."

"Simms said they found yao guai tracks around the eastern side the other day," she reminded him, her hands becoming a tangled mess. "What if-"

"I will find him," he repeated, leaning down for a brief kiss.

Charon looked out over the expanse of the wasteland just beyond Megaton's front gates. He gave a sharp whistle, calling, "Dog!"

He circled around to the back, eyeing the tracks the sheriff had mentioned. They were large, with one paw missing several toes. It would eventually become a problem. Charon climbed a small hill, venturing a little ways from the settlement as he finally heard some yips and yaps, and he again whistled. Dogmeat popped his head up from behind a rocky outcropping of boulders, scrabbling over the edge to sprint across the hot sand to him.

"What are you doing?" the ghoul rasped as the dog came close and shook itself into a blur.

He looked back up, suddenly finding multiple pairs of tiny eyes and wet snouts and little paws. Another large dog, splashed white and the auburn color of fall, eyed him with much more curious intent. Dogmeat barked, and the ghoul shook his head, turning back for home. One mutt was plenty.

They left before the full cover of night, making base camp in the abandoned trailer and sharing a meager meal together before the temperature dipped well enough to leave her shaking in the sleeping bag she had had the extra caps to buy. Charon grumbled but started a fire, risking visibility over comfort. It wasn't his style, and it wasn't necessarily smart…but she was delighted for it, and he would ensure one every night from then on.

"Didn't know it could get so cold out here," she chattered, snuggling the mutt close.

He listened to the dog's snores and her occasional breathing as they slumbered on. He looked up at all of the stars, his gun held close and eyes watchful for any threat bigger than him. The happiness he felt was still there, and it kept him warmer than any fire could have. A shooting star raced overhead.

He secretly hoped she'd never find her father.