Uranium Fever!

☢️ Addressed to You

Travis Miles (FO4) x Female Original Fallout Character ("Quill")

Commission (18+) / 4.4K

Quill's grown rather attached to Diamond City Radio and its DJ, Travis Miles, ever since she was run out of her home Vault. Her admiration has moved her to start writing him fan letters, which he treasures and fixates on. When the two accidentally meet face-to-face, they can't stop thinking about one another.

☢️ Forgive Your Trespasses

Joshua Graham x Female Original Fallout Character ("Penny")

Commission (18+) / 10.8K

A sequel to Lay It Upon Them. In the aftermath of her near-death experience (and her confusing encounter with Joshua Graham), Penny struggles to grapple with the complex feelings she has towards him. As the conflict with the White Legs nears its crescendo, Graham grows increasingly distant after a certain Mojave courier enters into Zion, believing they may be the key to victory. Tensions mount, jealousy flourishes, and Penny is returned to that familiar crossroads: leave Zion on her own terms, or stay amongst the only family she has left.

☢️ For Those Who Persecute You

Joshua Graham x Female Original Fallout Character ("Paloma")

Commission (18+) / 7.6K

Local Followers doctor and former victim of Legion violence finds herself stranded in Zion and is overcome with conflicting emotions after being forced to spend time in the presence of one Joshua Graham.

☢️ Things You Can't Have

Norm MacLean x Female Original Fallout Character (Thea)

Commission (18+) / 5.7K

After surviving his first venture out of Vault 33, Norm is back out on the road in search of his sister and their father. Accompanying him is Thea, a fellow Vault dweller from Boston who knows the Wasteland intimately. Norm believes himself in love with Thea, a condition which is rather unfortunate given her married status. Still, the knowledge that he can never have her doesn't stop his imagination from going wild from time to time.

☢️ Take Up the Armor

Joshua Graham x Transmasc Courier Six (Salem)

Commission (18+) / 9.6K

Courier Six, also known as Salem, has taken a sabbatical from deciding the political fate of the Wasteland to revive himself in the peace of Zion. After helping settle the score with the White Legs, he finds himself growing quite close with Joshua Graham, who seems to reciprocate his interest until he tells Salem they can't spend time together anymore. However, when he tries to give the older man what he'd asked for, Joshua's reaction isn't anything like what he'd expected.

☢️ Beggin' For It

Cooper Howard/The Ghoul x Female Original Fallout Character (Al)

Commission (18+) / 4.0K

Cooper's made Al mad, so she's decided to give him the cold shoulder. He's willing to beg if it'll make her forgive him, but he's also going to ensure she does some begging of her own...

☢️ Lay It Upon Them

Joshua Graham x Female Original Fallout Character (Penny)

Commission (18+) / 11.9K

After the destruction of New Canaan at the hands of the White Legs, sheltered, headstrong Penny fled to Zion to seek out some of the only other New Canaanites left. However, her burning desire for revenge quickly began to consume her, and her admiration for a certain former Legionary and his push to destroy their foes only added fuel to the fire. Now, the White Legs threaten to destroy her new home, as well. When she overhears plans to send her away for her own safety, her life spirals out of control and she falls even further into the pit of danger that is growing too close to Joshua Graham.

☢️ A Rather Experimental Pit Stop

Cooper Howard/The Ghoul x Female Original Fallout Character (Al)

Commission (18+) / 3.9K

While they're holed up in Freeside, resting after completing their most recent bounty-hunting gig, Cooper convinces Al to try out a little Jet. Fun (and some mild guilt) ensues.

☢️ Mutual Aid

Roy Phillips x Female Vault Dweller

One-Shot (18+) / 6.5K

After a failed attempt at diplomacy in trying to get the Warrington Station ghouls into Tenpenny Tower, you agree to help Roy Phillips get them in "his way". However, the ghoul mask alone won't guarantee your safety; you need to smell like a ghoul, too. Fortunately, Roy is willing to help you out...if you ask nicely.

☢️ A Week's Vacation in Goodsprings, Nevada

Raul Tejada x Female Reader

One-Shot, Ask Submission (18+) / 9.9K

You're injured during a routine trip because you refused to listen to Raul, and he's none too happy about it. However, the down time you take to heal is also the perfect cure for the tension between the two of you.

☢️ Shoot the Moon

Norm MacLean x Female Reader

One-Shot, Ask Submission (18+) / 30.1K

Vault life has never truly agreed with Norm MacLean. A bit of an invisible outcast thanks to his general disposition, the son of Vault 33's Overseer is growing lonesome as he reaches true adulthood. That is, until a transfer of personnel puts him into the path of someone who finally makes him feel seen. Will the expectations of others get in their way? Can Norm find the courage and strength to live the life he wants to live?

☢️ Carnal Lessons

John Hancock x Virgin!Female Reader

One-Shot, Ask Submission (18+) / 20.0K

John's always had a 'thing' for innocence. When he meets you, a runaway vaultie looking for a new place to belong, that 'thing' gets him into far more trouble than he could have ever anticipated.

☢️ As A Dog

Cooper Howard/The Ghoul x Female Reader

One-Shot (TBC), Ask Submission (18+) / 7.1K

After an especially tense moment, Cooper's companion decides she can't handle his bullshit. When she changes her mind, though, he decides to make her prove she really is sorry for leaving.

☢️ Grunt Work

Cooper Howard/The Ghoul x Female Reader

One-Shot, Ask Submission (18+) / 3.9k

Cooper's favorite vaultie companion is pressing her luck as of late and requires some correction.

☢️ Working Girl

Cooper Howard/The Ghoul x Female Reader

One-Shot, Ask Submission (18+) / 5.4k

You knew when you took this job that it wouldn't be easy, but you didn't know you'd be expected to sleep with ghouls.

☢️ Bloodletting

Cooper Howard/The Ghoul x Female Reader

One-Shot, Ask Submission (18+) / 2.8k

No one told you menstruation would be such a nightmare in the Wasteland when you left the vault. Fortunately, Cooper can offer some relief.

☢️ Close Quarters

Cooper Howard/The Ghoul x Female Reader

One-Shot (TBC), Ask Submission (18+) / 2.4k

Crammed into a tight space and hiding from supposed deathclaws, you and Cooper have some sweaty, silent time to kill. Fortunately, his thigh makes as nice a seat as any.

☢️ Smooth Skin

Cooper Howard/The Ghoul x Female Reader

One-Shot, Ask Submission (18+) / 3.1k

Cooper is obsessed with the pristine nature of every little thing about his brand new vaultie companion. When she sleeps, he takes a chance to look closer.

☢️ A Fair Trade

Cooper Howard/The Ghoul x Female Reader

One-Shot, Ask Submission (18+) / 3.9k

"Now, you've gotta be quiet. There's others around."

The hotel right off the crumbling black highway you'd been walking for about two days wasn't the nicest place you'd ever traded caps for a room, but it was decent enough. The walls and ceiling were cracked and stained, every piece of furniture reeking of cigarette smoke, but the bed seemed nice and steady. That was the important part.

Charon let out a tight, amused chuckle at your comment as he yanked your underwear down your legs and discarded them wherever your pants and boots had disappeared off to. He was always quiet, letting little more than a growl or a rumble slip until the moment he could feel himself tip over the edge.

You, on the other hand, could barely keep quiet if your life depended on it as long as he was touching you, which was one of the major reasons you almost never got laid out on the road.

When you'd first started messing around, things had been stilted and sort of slow, getting to know one another's bodies and limits. Now that there was a baseline of trust and knowledge, you were both comfortable enough to get things started rather quickly. Despite his willingness, even eagerness, he still seemed to grow more and more nervous as things progressed.

The bed frame held both of your weights, Charon's more significant than your own, but it did groan as the bulky ghoul moved himself onto it, hand disappearing between your bodies to start touching you. His whole body seemed stiff, his breathing erratic.

"Relax." you breathed against his skin, playing gently with the remaining tufts of fiery red hair that still decorated his scalp. His only response was to ghost his thin lips down your exposed torso, mouth tracing along your skin and making you shiver. Posture rigid, those big, rough hands found your thighs and pulled them open, settling himself over you. You wrapped your arms around him as best as you could, both of you grunting as he slid inside. He didn't mirror the relieved breath you let out.

Charon always seemed tense during sex.

Well, that wasn't quite it. Everyone held a certain amount of tension during sex; that wasn't so unusual. But the quiet, beefy ghoul you'd essentially taken into your employ was already a walking ball of constant tension even when his pants were on, so the way he was so tightly wound it seemed he might explode into dust throughout every sexual encounter you had with him was hard to miss.

Initially, you'd chalked it up to a long period of celibacy, or maybe just an overall lack of experience. After all, that first time had been full of awkwardness, months of lingering looks and yearning comments boiling over into fumbling your way through removing just enough clothing that you could feel one another. The aftermath was full of dodged eye contact and nearly oppressive silence as both of you struggled to think of something to say, but neither of you pulled away.

You weren't entirely sure what you'd call your relationship, even now. There was no real title between you, nor had there ever really been one, but there had been a closeness growing between you since you'd purchased his contract to free him from Ahzrukhal. As things stood, he'd saved your life more times than you could count, had followed you into the depths of hell and back, sat by your side while you slept at night. Still, you'd never talked feelings...not that you weren't keen.

In the time you'd known him, you'd come to understand that Charon could be very sweet and vulnerable in his own ways, especially when the mood was right, but it took a lot of knowledge of his personal quirks to be able to see it. He was more of a man of action than a man of words, that much had been clear from the moment you'd met. But with the increased affection, that same tension came in spades.

He held you very carefully when you slept together, both during and after the actual act. You were certain at least part of it was him wanting to be close, anchoring your body as near to his as he could manage. But, at the same time, it always felt like he was gripping you the way one might hold a delicate-winged moth in your hand, trying to keep it from slipping away without crushing it.

"Ugh." you huffed as he found his rhythm, the texture of his scarred cock making you clench and rock against him.

You lost track of time for a while, unsure of exactly how long you'd been tangled in a ball of limbs and flesh. It was difficult to keep your eyes open. Charon's frame began to tremble with the effort of holding himself above you, every muscle taut and exuding a warmth that only contributed to the heat around you. A light film of sweat clung to you as your hand moved down to give yourself more stimulation where you needed it most. The sight of it made him sigh wantonly, working your leg up higher on his hip.

"Fuck, yes." you praised, gripping loosely at his broad shoulders as he nuzzled into the side of your neck, his heavy, rhythmic breathing adding an additional, delicious edge to every thrust he gave as it tickled down your spine. His whole body was stiff, his movements rigid. Your nails dug harder and harder into whatever parts of him you could reach as your core tightened, the way you squeezed around him drawing a growl from his chest.

He continued on, fucking you through the orgasm that broke over you rather unexpectedly, washing you in wave after wave of toe-curling pleasure and only relenting once you started to fuss from the overstimulation. Chest heaving, he spooned up behind you, arm around your waist as he pulled you snug against him.

"You done?" you panted, sheepish and hiding it poorly.

"Mm." he replied in the affirmative, pressing his face into the back of your head. You rolled to face him, taking advantage of his seemingly receptive state, and wound your arms around his neck. As always, that second pesky question began to form on your lips, but you already knew the answer, and you knew that asking would only make him feel insecure about the whole thing. Of course, he'd never admit that that's how he felt out loud, but for all his anger-tinged stoicism, Charon was fairly easy to read once you'd had enough time to observe him.

For a few silent minutes, you laid there, face buried in his chest as you caught your breath. One of his arms remained slung over you, petting absentmindedly at your lower back. The continuous throb of his erection, still stiff between you, had only faded a little by the time you began to stir again.

Measuredly, you pulled yourself up on top of him, straddling his hips and leaning down to peck at his thin lips. You took your time, showing him bolder affection than you typically would, heart thundering at the idea that he might reject you for doing so. He didn't, thankfully, but he was giving you the same nervous side-eye a stray dog might when you tried to approach it, curious, but hesitant.

"What're you doing?" he asked.

In a soothing gesture, you rested your head against his chest and peered up at him.

"Aww, relax. I wanna take care of you." you reassured, lips brushing against his rough, patchy skin as you spoke, leaning in to plant a few soft kisses. "You didn't finish."

He squirmed in discomfort at the statement, grabbing cautiously, but firmly, at your shoulders to halt you as you tried to make your way down his torso towards his hips.

"Don't need to." he insisted.

You rolled your eyes, though playfully as you could manage to show you weren't really upset.

"I know you don't need to." you replied, running a free hand up and down his bare thigh while giving his most sensitive bits a wide berth. "Do you want to, though?"

Sighing heavily, he narrowed his lids at you ever so slightly. Still, there was a glint of intrigue in his eyes. You laid another kiss on his sternum, lingering this time.

"C'mon. You take such good care of me. Let me return the favor. It's only fair."

The pair of you stared at one another, each one seemingly waiting for the other to crack. Charon won that particular challenge, as he always did with his impeccably flat affect, his milky eyes betraying far more about his thoughts than his otherwise mildly sour facial expression. However, when you sucked your teeth at him, waving away his minor victory with a loose pass of your hand, he seized that hand and held it to his sternum, flush against his warm, warped skin despite the loose grip he maintained. You turned your hand and placed it palm-down, feeling the steady beat of his heart. The sensation brought a small smile to your lips.

"Alright." he said suddenly, tone hardly one of a man giving in after a long, hard fight. It made you laugh.

"Oh, thank you so much for the sacrifice." you smirked, a swift peck landing right on his cheek. It made that little grin you sometimes saw flashes of tug at the edges of his mouth appear for a split second, and you felt yourself smiling much more genuinely as you gave him a careful push, encouraging him to roll from his side onto his back. His bare skin was warm beneath you as you pulled yourself over him, kissing and nipping your way down from his lips. Most of the flesh along both sides of Charon's neck had been stripped away by the ghoulification process, leaving exposed muscle fibers to harden with time. The single strip that remained intact ran from his strong chin straight down to the base of his throat, a path you traced with the tip of your tongue. When you tickled at his Adam's apple, he let out a hum, squirming beneath you almost imperceptibly.

You straightened back up as you moved lower, sitting rather squarely between his legs as you grabbed at his half-hard cock, flagging a bit from a lack of stimulation. Stroking him with one hand, the other roamed aimlessly from his scarred-over navel and across his inner thigh, exploratory. As he hardened fully once again, he seemed to begin to lose himself in the pleasure, if only enough to get him to close his eyes and arc his hips up into your touch a bit. Still, it was more fully engrossed than he ever seemed to be otherwise.

Setting a steady pace as you stroked him, he gave a soft sigh of approval. Moving on from his inner thigh, your palm swept upward to cup at his scrotum, something that never failed to make him visibly jump. However, you carefully massaged at him, feeling the way his boys pulsed and responded to your touch, something that made him groan more openly. The sound made your own core ache again, but you ignored the feeling to focus on the show.

You were a little hesitant to go too far when it came to poking around. He'd never stopped your wandering hands, even when they slid further south to dance along the cleft of his ass, but that's about as far as you'd gone. Though rather chaste, technically, he still seemed to really enjoy it, hips bucking up into your grip in short bursts.

"Close?" you breathed, feeling him jerk in response to the sultriness in your voice.

"Ugh." he breathed with a single nod. Your teeth dug hard into your lower lip as you continued to watch him, unblinking. Only a moment later, he shuddered, muscles flexing as he shot his load all over his own abdomen and your hand. It made quite the mess, reaching almost all the way up to his chin in one spot, but he helped you clean up silently, hands a bit shaky.

As you dug into your bag later, packing up so you could head out, you brushed past the small leather pouch where you kept Charon's contract, the folded piece of paper never leaving your person. Despite not really believing in the power Ahzrukhal (and, seemingly, Charon) prescribed to it, you strongly preferred if no one else got their hands on it. You tucked it deeper into your things, covering it with some back up trousers you carried.

The contract was a confounding item to you, one that never ceased to feel like it was burning a hole through your pack as you carried it around. When you'd first "freed" Charon from indentured servitude by purchasing it from the now-dead Ahzrukhal, you'd immediately tried to give it to him, not even a second thought in your mind that if anyone should have it, it should be him. He'd refused you outright, though, just as he had every other time you'd subsequently made the same offer. Thinking something about his pride was keeping him from accepting, you'd offered to sell it to him instead, or to let him work off its value if that would make him more comfortable. No dice. He continued to insist that you held his contract, therefore you were his employer and he would go where you went.

As more time went by, you began to wonder if he even had anywhere else to go. While he had proven to know various people throughout the Capitol and beyond, he didn't seem to have friends, only business connections he had no warmth for (and who seemed to have none in return). He never spoke of any family, either—not that that was odd for anyone throughout the Wasteland, let alone a ghoul. Still, the longer the two of you travelled together, the more you began to slowly realize just how alone he seemed.

Maybe that's why he'd chosen to follow you in the beginning.

Maybe that's why he was still following you.

The thought churned into a knot in your gut as you walked along the old interstate, baking in the hot sun. Sighing, you cast a quick glimpse at him, a pace or two in front of you, as per usual, his head on a swivel. Perhaps it was a bit self-involved to worry this much on his behalf when he'd never expressed any unhappiness to you. But, then again, you didn't think Charon was the kind of guy who would bother to say he was unhappy to begin with.

"What's the matter?" he asked suddenly, navigating both of you through what appeared to have once been the courtyard of one of the taller buildings you were passing.

"Hmm?" you asked, feigning confusion.

"Quiet today." Charon observed, scanning you over quickly before turning his head back to the road.

You frowned halfheartedly in response.

"Oh. Guess I'm just tired." you replied, silently returning to fretting. You'd never want him to only be with you because he felt as if he had no other choice, or because of some weird contract you'd never taken seriously, and the idea had really started to consume your thoughts as the shadows began to grow longer and darker.

It was once you reached a small town that your pace slowed, each of you scanning the homes you passed to see if any of them seemed like a feasible place to spend the night. Finding one that didn't seem primed to come down if the breeze blew too hard for even a second took longer than usual, but at least some of the tension you'd been carrying in your now-aching back had subsided by the time you'd settled into the old sitting room for the evening, Charon sitting on the moldering old couch and watching the door.

"Hey." you said, saddling up close beside him, hip to hip.

A short, silent nod was his reply, hands working away at cleaning the riot shotgun he always kept strapped to his back. He was meticulous about its maintenance, as well as that of your own weapons. Once he was finished with his own, he'd move on to them. That had been his routine since the very first time you'd made camp together. The small fire you'd built in the old hearth crackled along, combining with the sound of the breeze pushing leaves along the crumbled street outside to create a strangely soothing sort of music. Hesitantly, you reached out and put your hand on his knee.

"I care about you." you said, words quieter than you'd meant them to be. "You know that, right?"

Charon looked distinctly uncomfortable as he sat the gun down on his lap, but the look on his face when he turned his full attention to you was more one of hesitant confusion than one of annoyance.

"What makes you ask that?"

Your chest and neck began to flush hotly, and you shifted your weight from hip to hip, the cushion uneven.

"Hm?" you replied, simply not ready to answer and refusing to do so.

"What makes you ask if I know?"

You shrugged, studying the flames. The heat in your neck began to seep up into your face.

"I dunno." you answered, fidgeting with the knobs on your Pip-Boy just to have something to do. "We never say stuff like that, so I guess I wanted to make sure we're both on the same page."

He was doing that thing again, studying your face like he was worried you were coming down with something as he very clearly tried to calculate what the right thing to say was. Immediately, you felt guilty for stressing him out.

"We are." he said bluntly, waiting to see if that would placate you.

You smiled, unwilling to keep on in the face of his obvious discomfort.

"Okay. I'm glad."

Once the tension in the air seemed to mostly dissipate, you had a light supper and tucked in for some shut-eye, curling up on the long sofa beside him. He seemed extra quiet, if that were even possible, but he petted at your head rather affectionately where it rested against his outer thigh as you dozed off, feet dangling over the edge of the far arm rest. Soaking in the feeling, you tried your best to hide your excitement, as well as the relief that he might've actually been telling you the truth instead of what you wanted to hear, as you'd feared.

The next morning, as you were in the midst of shaking yourself awake, he propositioned you. Of course, you didn't turn him down, eager to express some of the tenderness you'd tried to communicate in a more physical way. There was more kissing than usual, more caressing and cuddling, but your lover yet again failed to reach any sort of climax, leaving you veiled in guilt as you laid across his chest afterwards.

"I wanna ask you something." you said suddenly.

He actually huffed a laugh at that, though it was a more sarcastic sound than you'd expected.

"Got a lot of questions lately." he said, sitting up so he could begin redressing. He was never too keen on hitting the road late.

You rolled your eyes and gave his shoulder a light, playful shove, holding yourself still despite the way you wanted to wriggle in embarrassment. His incredibly frank manner was something you'd come to really appreciate, but it never failed to make you squirm when it was deployed in your direction.

"Do you enjoy yourself when we sleep together?" you asked, trying to be frank in return.

The way he looked at you, the question may as well have been whether or not he enjoyed breathing oxygen.

"I guess that's not really what I wanted to ask." you went on, brain churning through different approaches. "What I mean is that you seem tense, you know?"

Charon seemed to bristle a bit at that, his chin lifting a few degrees. He seemed to wait for the rest of your statement. When it didn't come, he shrugged, soft and rather genuinely confused.

"So? Still have a good time."

"Well, a lot of the time you don't—"

He immediately cut you off.

"Don't wanna talk about that. Not your fault."

"I know!" you insisted softly, trying to keep so you wouldn't egg on his defensiveness. He was already talking more than you'd expected. Scooting closer until your sides touched, you reached out very carefully and placed your hand on his thigh, moving the way one might offer their hand to a cautious stray.

"I think being on top stresses you out."

He shook his head, suddenly looking to the side of you instead of right at you.

"Come on," you encouraged. "I won't judge you for being honest."

Again, he shook his head, his facade cracking a bit around the edges the longer you stared at him. You started to understand why this is how he handled most of his social interactions. To your surprise, instead of getting up and going outside to smoke, which was his usual response when he didn't want to continue with a conversation, he leaned back in his seat again and hummed quietly.

"I guess," he admitted.

You felt yourself relax, too, leaning against him more casually. Both of you seemed to take a breath.

"So...you don't have to be on top. Not if you don't want to be."

He stared at you, mouth set into a hard line.

"Not all the time, at least." you added on, brows high. "I just don't want every time we have sex to be stressful for you. I want you to be able to relax and enjoy yourself like I get to."

His gaze softened, but his suddenly re-stiffened posture didn't. No matter how hard you tried to keep quiet while he seemed to think, you just couldn't help yourself.

"If you really don't want to, that's fine. I just don't want you to say no because you're afraid I'll judge you or something. And it's not like anyone else would have to know."

Your tall, ghoulish mate was staring at you hard, an entirely new look on his face that you'd never seen before. It was as if he was weighing how much he really trusted you. After a minute or two passed, he gave a shrug.

"Guess I could try it."

Charon never ceased to surprise you in a plethora of ways. You'd always assumed that his lack of control throughout so much of his life would have led him to want to be in the driver's seat in every moment moving forward, to be able to exercise his newfound freedom in every way. Apparently you'd been dead wrong, at least when it came to this one particular thing. Slowly but surely, he demonstrated his eagerness to cede some control.

He was the most delicious kind of pitiful the more comfortable he got with you touching him, exploring what he liked. Though his insistence that he take care of you before anything else persisted, he slowly became more and more agreeable to letting you take the reins in the later portion of your encounters. The light teasing you'd already been doing with the tips of your fingers gradually became exploring with your tongue, sliding it carefully along his aching cock until you were teasing at the quivering ring of muscle you eventually found while you continued to stroke him. The gasp he'd let out when you first lapped at him, shaky and sharp, made you grin like an idiot...though not as much as watching him writhe in pleasure as his orgasm overtook him had.

For a long while, that's how things were between you. Charon would fuck you until you could hardly stand, then he'd lie back and let you finish him off with your hands and mouth, growing bolder and bolder with each instance. Eventually, you began prodding at his entrance with your spit-slickened fingers, rubbing your body against him as you applied strategic pressure in slow, deliberate circles. He hummed, a strangely pleading sound like you'd never heard before.

Actually penetrating him in any way, even with your fingers that were much smaller than even his own, was more nerve-wracking in the beginning than you'd anticipated, much to your surprise. You knew how easy it was to accidentally hurt someone if you did something like this wrong, and the idea that he'd heal quickly if you did something wrong gave you no comfort. Thankfully, he didn't seem to mind you taking your time in working your way up to more than one digit, the longest one still enough to give him enough stretch to make his cock throb wildly. At the right angle, you could even stimulate his prostate a bit...something you didn't need to do for long to make him completely lose control, which was good because it was a bit hard on your wrist. You flexed it to and fro as you watched him try to compose himself.

As summer turned to fall, the new way of things became normal enough that he no longer seemed embarrassed when you started on the path to where you were going, only eager. His enthusiasm turned you on, the ability to be as generous with him as he often was with you a boost to both your ego and your libido.

He'd become agreeable to cuddling afterwards more often with time—at least, to the degree he would normally let you cuddle him. The wind was kicking up loudly outside the hundredth room you'd paid for, blowing dust and sand beneath the door. You studied the sound with one ear while the other listened to Charon's racing heart.

"Would you ever...let me full-on fuck you, you think?" you asked, peeking up at him.

The big ghoul didn't instantly laugh dismissively or attempt to throw anything at you, thankfully, but the way he cut his eyes at you, lids narrowed all of the sudden, didn't exactly inspire confidence. There were a few beats of quiet between the two of you, not enough for anything to happen, but just enough time for you to blink, both metaphorically and literally.

"Sorry, I didn't mean—"

"I didn't say no." he interjected suddenly, expression hardly changing at all.

You blinked a few times, mouth lagging behind your brain.

"You didn't say yes, either."

Silently, he shrugged, seemingly measuring you up rather thoroughly. You snorted a laugh before you could stop yourself, unsurprised by his strange sort of coyness.

Your efforts to acclimate Charon (and yourself) to penetration became rather experimental in the following weeks. Sure, there were plenty of...adequately-shaped things that existed for you to try out, that was no issue. But the more you did so, the more you found yourself afraid of something going horribly wrong. You'd heard stories. In fact, you'd been turning one of those stories over in your mind as the two of you had picked through a trade outpost, your companion looking through the proprietor's ammunition stock before stepping outside for a smoke. You'd been about to follow him when you spotted something that might have been adequate to put your worries to bed.

It was hard to tell what the thing was made of, but it was solid, weighty and obviously hand-carved, polished with effort until the surface was smooth. It was heavy, rounded at the tip and flared at the base, decorating a shelf beside some other innocuous things.

"Is this a...?" you asked the seller.

"It's whatever you want it to be," he replied.

It had been a bit of an ordeal to obtain the thing, and it had cost you more caps than you'd expected—an eyebrow-raising amount, really. But you'd paid it and you were excited, regardless of the increasing nervousness that gripped you as the two of you discussed where you'd stop for the night. Cresting the next hill, you let out a breath of relief.

At a distance, the old motel didn't look any different from any of the other places you'd stayed, but when you got close you could see that the front office was actually boarded up completely. That was both good and bad; good because you'd save caps, bad because the place might be a trap or harboring some other kind of threat. It took over an hour, but together the pair of you swept the building, double-checking the most intact room for signs of recent occupation. The lock on the door still worked fine, but the door itself seemed as if it might crumble into a pile of splinters if you so much as looked at it wrong, so Charon slid the incredibly heavy-seeming chest of drawers in front of it.

"This is about as nice as the last room we actually paid for." you observed jokingly, and he hummed in a mix of agreement and amusement.

With the only window boarded up, the room instantly grew incredibly dark, leaving you scrambling through your bag for the small lantern you usually carried. The batteries were starting to reach the end of their life span, and you had to give it a whack or two to get it to the level of brightness it usually produced. Even with that, the room was dim, but in a sort of romantic way. Well, it would have been more romantic if the place wasn't sort of trashed, but it only took a few minutes of working together to clear off the (mercifully dry and non-moldy) bed and the corner it sat in, a single liveable spot in the entire building.

There was still an hour or so of daylight left outside, but you wouldn't have really known it as the two of you began to settle in a little, your companion visibly more comfortable after the door had been shored up. He settled into the stuffed chair against the wall and started reading a book he'd been carrying around lately, some sort of manual or another. A lit cigarette dangled from the corner of his mouth as his eyes studied the page, only a couple inches from his face. The sight made you giggle, and he shot you a chastising look.

"Want anything to eat?" you asked, nonchalant and fidgety as you dug through your bag in search of your little stash of canned food.

"Mmm." he replied, turning you down.

"You sure? You didn't eat this morning." you continued, your hand bumping against the very distinct shape of your new purchase. You sighed, taking a sign as a sign.

When you lifted your head to look in his direction, he was already eyeing you in a heated way.

"I have something I wanna show you." you said, face growing hot.

Adjusting his posture to sit more upright, he closed the thing and sat it on his lap, casting you the sort of patient look one might give their child who asked to show off their latest trick. It didn't help your sudden case of performance anxiety. You swallowed hard, mustering up the gumption you needed to make it over the finish line. After all, you'd already done the truly hard work of finding it.

Of course, the big ghoul didn't react instantly, his eyes obviously struggling to make out the shape of the implement in your hand. You moved a step or two closer, but kept enough space between you that he couldn't lunge if he decided to.

"Oh, Christ." he said finally, sinking back into the chair loosely.

You giggled, but it was a nervous sound.

"Where the hell did you get it?" he asked, lids narrowed as he studied the thing in your hand like it might transform and attack him at any moment.

"Does it really matter?" you responded, trying to wave it around a little less. "I happened upon it and decided to buy it."

"Bet you got scammed." he shot back instantly.

Your jaw dropped loose, an indignant huff flying out of your mouth. Since the earliest days of your time together, he'd loved to give you shit for how bad you were at bartering and trading, something you'd never really considered yourself a master of. The back and forth and one-upping just didn't agree with you, and you were often eager enough for a transaction to end to just hand over whatever they asked for, something Charon found incredibly gauche after years of doing business on behalf of penny-pinching Ahzrukhal.

"I didn't!" you insisted. "I haggled!"

He scoffed, though more playfully than his expression would have suggested.

"Mhmm."

"Look, you're changing the subject!" you said, giggling in a mix of actual frustration and mild beguilement at his attitude. Something about the sound seemed to tickle him a little, and he pursed his lips in the same slight way he often would when he was trying to avoid laughter.

"And...?" he inquired.

"Well? Are you interested?" you lobbed back, fidgeting in place.

He blinked very deliberately, cocking his head at you by a few degrees. You held your breath.

"I guess." he said finally, tinted with poorly feined casualness.

That made you laugh again, and you finally closed the last bit of distance between you and tossed yourself down into his lap, wrapping an arm around his impossibly thick neck and planting a long kiss on his scarred mouth. Though tense for a moment, he melted into the affection rather easily after a long moment, smoothing your hair as he cast you a sort of unreadable look. You poked him square in the middle of the chest with the thing, and he rolled his eyes.

"Next trader we come across, I'm keeping a close eye on you." he muttered, finishing his cigarette off with a single long drag and tossing the butt into the fireplace. You could smell the tobacco lingering on him as he tugged you close and let his hands wander across your body

"Excited?" you teased, running your hands down his chest.

"Shut up."

You refused to let him wrestle your pants off like he immediately tried to, clamoring on top of him to try and use your weight to force him down onto his back. You failed miserably, of course, but he reclined anyway, hands on your waist as you showered him with kisses and nips. He wasn't much of a biter, himself, but every time your teeth so much as skimmed him anywhere, he seemed to melt. In fact, he was putty by the time you'd both shed your clothes, your face buried in his chest as you bit at him over and over.

The feeling of cooking oil wasn't high on your list of favorite sensations, but it was about the only thing you could reliably get your hands on to provide what felt like enough lubrication. Charon grunted in disapproval at the slick, cool feeling of the stuff against him, just like he always did, but he didn't outright complain. Or, he didn't have the time to complain before you were massaging at him, teasing his puckered hole with one hand and the leaking head of him with the other. He outright whimpered, and you groaned in reply.

"You're so cute like this." you praised, pressing one finger, then two inside him, spreading them apart just slightly with each pass. He let out a sound that was somewhere between a hiss and a scoff; you knew he hated when you teased him like that, but you also knew he wasn't really in any place to argue with you.

The sex toy wasn't all that girthy, but it was definitely a bit larger than three of your fingers put together, which was the most the two of you had ever worked up to. Despite how painfully aroused you were, trying your best to keep the hand stroking at his erection steady so you wouldn't overwhelm him and spoil the fun, you found yourself nervous in a way you hadn't been in a while as you eyed the thing. You didn't want to hurt him by accident. The steadying breath you drew in was embarrassingly loud, but Charon didn't even seem to notice, too busy lowing at the third finger you'd begun to prepare him with. He was producing an almost obscene amount of pre-cum, the clear fluid dribbling down your hand as you teased him.

"Ready?" you asked, swallowing hard. Your whole body was covered in a sheen of sweat despite the late autumn chill in the room.

"Mhmm." he nodded, hips already rocking against your hand, eyes screwed shut. You wished ghouls could still blush; it would have been adorable to see him red from head to toe.

Trying to work the smooth, polished thing inside him was infinitely more scary than the first time you'd used your fingers on him, you discovered. In fact, when you realized, dumbly, that you wouldn't have the same sensory input to monitor the situation, you almost backed out. If something went wrong, you weren't sure you'd ever be able to forgive yourself. The way he wriggled and huffed, however, changed your mind.

Your lover was a bit tense beneath you, breathing his way through the initial stretch of you pushing inside him, but he didn't protest. In fact, his hand moved up to clasp over yours, tightening the grip you had on his leaking manhood and groaning again. For a while, you didn't press as deep as the toy would allow you, working your way further inside with trembling, tight-gutted patience. More than once, your free hand moved from between his legs to between your own, touching yourself to the sweet, pathetic sound of him letting you fuck him.

"Jesus," he spat suddenly when you gave an especially deep, slow thrust that must have hit right where you were aiming. His erection jerked angrily in his grip, and you wrapped your hand around it again, desperate to feel him come apart. Your patience was well rewarded, Charon nearly ripping a hole in the upholstery of the couch when his orgasm broke out. It may have been your ego convincing you of what you wanted to hear, but you could have sworn he sighed your name as he exploded.

Afterwards, you marveled at him, collapsed and panting. You'd never seen him struggle to collect himself for so long, almost a full minute passing as he tried to steady his breathing and slow his heart, which thundered excitedly against the side of his ribcage, each thud resonating into your sweaty flank.

"Still think I got scammed?" you grinned.

Charon let out a huff of consideration. The look in his eyes said he was grateful for the handhold, the way to segue from what had just happened back to something a bit less directly exposing.

"Probably," he concluded, swallowing thickly. "Still haven't told me what you spent on it."

You laughed warmly, rolling yourself back on top of him and resting your chin on his chest, staring up at him from your perch.

"And I won't," you teased. "Besides, it's already paid for itself, if you ask me."

He groaned in embarrassment, giving you a gentle tap on the forehead in chastisement.

"Pushing it."

"Oh, not even close. Not yet."

That earned you a prompt whack with whatever wadded-up article of clothing was closest, a move that put you on the defensive just long enough for him to flip you onto your back, hovering over you, shielding you beneath him.

"Didn't finish."

"I don't need to." you smiled, reaching out to pet at him lovingly.

His face lit up with smugness, as if he'd been waiting for you to say those exact words.

"I know. Want to?" he asked.

You bit your lip to keep from grinning, stretching yourself out beneath him in a beckoning pose.

"Alright." you sighed dramatically.

"I'm telling you, man. They're about as tall as you. You know, if you sat on my shoulders."

The mid-afternoon sun didn't feel quite as burning hot as it had the day before, grand skyscrapers made entirely of clouds passing by overhead and casting their little hunting party in a cooling shade. John found himself grateful as he made his way along the heavily trod dirt path, a fog of dust swirling around their ankles as they walked. Around them, Zion sang its usual harmony of insects buzzing, the rare bird calling.

Follows-Chalk rolled his eyes up towards the clear sky, tilting his head in doubt when he turned it to look at him.

"You're messing with me." the younger man scowled at him, tugging at the bill of the baseball cap he wore in annoyance. "It's not very funny."

John lifted his scarred hands in front of himself, waving them slightly.

"No, I swear!" he rasped, chuckling as they continued to plod their way along. "They have literal, actual giant robot guards in New Vegas. Outside New Vegas, too. They're posted up at the gates."

The soon-to-be-scout huffed doubtfully, but after a few quiet steps, his deep curiosity about all aspects of life outside the park seemed to get the best of him.

"Really?"

"My hand to God." he promised, one scarred appendage over his heart. "Plus they have guns and rocket launchers and shit attached to them. They're not to be messed with, so mind your P's and Q's if you ever meet one, eh?"

The sound of the river grew louder as the path sunk lower, down into the very base of the valley that enclosed them. The tall, leggy evergreens that sometimes lined the path grew thicker here, casting them in a cool shade. The dried needles crunched underfoot.

"Where did the robots come from?" Follows-Chalk asked.

"They belong to the same guy who owns half the town and runs pretty much all of it. He built them a long time ago. Before the bombs fell." John replied, adjusting his rifle on his back.

Off to the side, something splashed into the water, drawing both of their gazes and breaking the spell of the ongoing topic. Silence enveloping them once more, the two men continued to make their way along the western rim of the park, the footpath growing less well-traveled and more overgrown with woody brush, dotted with rocks that had tumbled down from the peaks overhead. John moved carefully, watching each step to avoid falling and making a fool of himself.

"Don't you get hot dressed like that?"

He shrugged, peering through the scope of his rifle and seeing no signs of movement, fussing with his long sleeves after replacing it.

"Not really. The change messes with your sense of temperature. Plus, with my skin all thin and gross the way it is, it's better that it's covered."

Follows-Chalk stopped in place, frowning.

"Your skin isn't gross," he said.

John laughed again, much softer than before.

"I just mean with the way it is, it can cause me problems if I don't protect it. Exposed patches of fat in a few places. Don't wanna be greasy."

He swallowed back another giggle at the face he pulled.

"Besides, with all this—" he went on, gesturing with his burned hand to his entire right side, which was decorated in patches of red, pink, and pale yellow, the flesh from his face to his toes warped even further than it had been when he'd become a ghoul. "—it's easier to keep myself from getting a bunch of little annoying injuries. It's delicate, you know? Tears easy when I get into scraps."

"Ah. Like with Joshua and his bandages."

There was a flutter in John's gut at the mention of the older missionary, and he cleared his throat gently, grateful he could no longer visibly flush.

"Yeah, like Joshua." he agreed, searching blindly for something else to discuss and finding the old fire tower they were passing by. "You know, if you're still eager to check out the old sites around, we could pop up to the top of that old fire tower. I won't tell anyone."

"Eh."

John's brow wrinkled.

"Not interested anymore?"

Since he had known Chalk, he'd been fascinated with some of the old structures that dotted the landscape. None of them were anything especially fancy or strange, campgrounds and fire monitoring facilities, a fishing lodge and a dusty general store. Still, they'd been labeled taboo by the tribes, and that forbidden aspect seemed to call to him like a siren's song—not unlike the allure of the world outside the one he knew.

He shrugged indifferently.

"Eh. I went into a few with your friend that was here a while ago. It's just old stuff. Sorta neat, but not what I'd imagined." he explained. "I've seen old stuff before."

His palpable disappointment made John a little sad, as did the mention of the Courier he'd initially come to Zion with, but he didn't have much time to ruminate on either thought before his walking companion froze in place, leaving him to do the same.

"What?" he asked, voice low, turning his head to and fro as carefully as he could. "See something?"

"Hm. Thought I heard something up that way." he answered, gesturing towards a path that ran up the side of the Spire, disappearing into the trees. Crouching, he seemed to study some old-looking tracks.

"Well, if you're going to look, I've got your back. You know...from here." John smirked, jerking his chin over his shoulder towards the rifle.

They both thought a moment.

"I should have listened to you before, yeah? Some higher ground would be nice right now."

The ghoulish gunman squatted beside him, grunting at the ache in his knees as he did so.

"Hmm. Well, I've got a nest up here." he said, pointing towards the crest of the peak at their backs. "Think I'm gonna pop up there, see what I can see. You coming?"

As they both straightened, the tattooed youth eyeballed the distance with hesitation.

"What, don't think you can make it?"

He frowned at John's needling, good-natured as it was.

"No!" he shot back defensively. "Just sizing it up."

He laughed at that, much louder this time, and slapped him lightly on the back.

"Try to keep up, kid." he said, lobbing the taunt at the taller man just as he threw his body at the wall, gripping onto the slim handholds of the stone's uneven face as he began to climb. Thankfully, most of the way up didn't offer the same level of challenge, tapering inward until it was more like a wonky staircase. When he'd first decided to settle in Zion, he'd set up a few sniper's nests for himself, high vantage points that allowed him to see miles beyond the bounds of the valley. He cast a glance behind him to ensure Chalk was still in pursuit, and laughed at the sound of his strained, heavy breathing behind him.

The conditions were clear enough for him to be able to see clear to the end of the valley as he held the scope up to his face again, balancing the long gun in his hands as he swept back and forth slowly. Scanning the Spire, he did take note of a small yao guai patrolling what was likely its territory, scratching at one of the trees. He reached back, unseeing, and tapped at his partner, pointer finger extended.

Something else caught his eye as he panned across the bridge that led to the mouth of the park, to the place where their caravan had been almost entirely wiped out the day they'd arrived. The remains of an old fire smoldered beneath some grey coals, which seemed to still have the slightest hint of life to them; a thin line of smoke rose into the sky, crooking towards him like a finger. A tall, lean figure kneeled over it, studying the temperature with their hand and likely trying to determine how long ago it had gone out. As they stood, John could make out an eerily familiar duster, long and so tattered at the ends that the ragged strips slithered in the slight breeze.

He was dizzy all of the sudden.

"No fucking way." he said under his breath, unthinking.

"What?" Follows-Chalk asked, leaning close. "What is it?"

He lowered the gun, blinking hard a few times as he wrestled it over his shoulder once more. 

"Nothing important. Let's get back to camp."

The trek back to the camp was strangely nerve-wracking, his mind running at a breakneck speed to soothe the sour, tight feeling in his stomach. He didn't see the person he thought he had, he reassured himself. The sun had been playing tricks on his eyes and his imagination had run with it, the past still weighing on him more heavily than he'd have liked to admit. His efforts at self-soothing yielded mixed results.

There was still no relief by the time he and Follows-Chalk, who he could feel staring at him the whole way, finally reached the encampment proper once more. A small crowd of maybe half a dozen people had loosely gathered near the mouth of the Angel Cave, chatting among themselves in intrigued tones and craning their necks to try to see inside. Despite already knowing what he'd find, he swept the area in the hopes of finding the man he was looking for. As per usual, his luck wasn't quite that good.

Even months after everything with the White Legs had been settled and the valley had been able to welcome traders and travelers more regularly, new arrivals never failed to cause a bit of a stir. Everyone had a past, a story to tell, and that fact had always proven to be quite a delight to the people of Zion. The onlookers parted, revealing Waking Cloud, the tribes' primary midwife and a rather incorrigible gossip at times.

"Hoi, John," she said rather excitedly. "Another of your kind is visiting us."

"Oh." he replied flatly, looking anywhere but her face to try and hide the way his skin crawled with nervousness. "Another ghoul, you mean?"

She nodded, eyes all alight. He swallowed hard and tried to force a smile out.

"Well, isn't that something?" was all he could think to say, but only a moment later, it didn't matter, anyway.

Joshua Graham, war council to the tribes and a former member of the Legion, emerged from the cavern first, just barely making himself visible before stopping and turning to look back. His off-white bandages seemed stark against the shade of the cave's mouth, the darkness of which concealed his conversation partner until the very last moment, emerging with eerie slowness from the either.

Or maybe that was just John's racing heart making him dizzy.

The Ghoul was well-known across many parts of the Wasteland, and had been since John himself was a young, smoothskinned man, but his legend had yet to reach the nooks and crannies of Zion until this very moment, it seemed. The dark hat that topped his head shielded most of his face from the still-staring crowd, but John didn't need to see it to know who he was looking at with complete certainty. Not a single thing had changed about the way he stood, carried himself, the way he moved with great intention. The long duster he wore was even worse for wear than it had seemed from a distance.

The two men were still engrossed in the conversation they'd started inside the cave, Joshua gesturing vaguely to the upper portion of what looked like half a map, dangling loosely in the gloved hand of his former partner. Frozen in place, he held his breath as they passed by, the crowd morphing to sort of half-envelop them at a respectful distance. Their backs were to him as they went, and for a single beat he could draw in a breath. But after a few more points at the map from Joshua, Cooper turned himself to point over the craggy hills behind him, sweeping his hand in that direction and doubling back when their eyes caught.

"Johnny?" he asked, blinking hard as if the sun were in his eyes.

A dozen people were suddenly looking in his direction, open intrigue on their faces. Joshua was no different, though the intrigue was a bit less open thanks to the way most of his face was obscured by his wrappings. Still, his intense blue eyes jumped between the newcomer and John rapidly, drinking in every detail of the interaction.

"Cooper," he nodded, though more than begrudgingly. His voice was more hoarse than he'd expected, but his feet finally unglued themselves from the spot, and he didn't make eye contact as he passed by, both consciously withholding it and too nervous to look the other ghoul in the face. There was intrigued murmuring behind him as he headed off further into the camp, and he could feel everyone staring. Some pairs of eyes burned hotter than others.

For the next few hours, John let himself get wrapped up in the usual evening ritual of helping out where he could before supper, silent as he sat with Joshua, Daniel, and a few others he typically dined with when it was time to eat. Cooper had disappeared after their short encounter, but there was no doubt he would be back. The old bounty hunter was, of course, a topic of discussion, but John avoided chipping in as much as he could when it came to that particular talk, busying himself chewing every bite of his meat meticulously.

He was only able to waste so much time after everything had been cleaned up and tucked away, wandering down to the river's edge to stare out over the water, taking in the calming sound of it flowing across the rocks that jutted out from the surface. Kicking at a clump of weeds growing from the sandy soil, he pondered how quickly he could pop over to the ancient fishing lodge and back; last he'd been there a number of months back, the bar still had some stock. He needed a stiff drink badly.

"Long day, hmm?" came a familiar voice from behind him, breaking his tumultuous train of thought.

His kicking didn't cease, continuing to throw dirt.

"Yeah." he sighed. "You?"

Joshua joined him, standing shoulder to shoulder as he took in his project at work. He didn't comment on his efforts, instead seeming to measure the way he stood.

"No longer than the usual." he finally responded, giving his old back a subtle stretch.

There was a beat or two, the river continuing to churn along.

"So." the bandaged man said, shifting his weight onto one leg.

The sniper waited for him to continue, but he didn't.

"So...what?"

That piercing blue gaze burned into him when they finally caught one another's eye full-on.

"How do you know our new guest?" Joshua inquired.

John wasn't sure why he said what he did next, but the words were out of his mouth before he could stop them.

"Who said I did?"

Joshua cocked his head at the sharpness in his voice, but only just so. The look in his eyes didn't change at all, determined and curious. Maybe a little jealous. Unsurprisingly, he still didn't say anything more. Strategic silence was one of the former Legate's favorite interrogation tactics, he'd come to learn since spending so much personal time with him.

He shrugged, his frustration far more clear in the gesture than he'd have liked.

"We used to be partners," he admitted.

Joshua's lids narrowed at that.

"Work partners." John clarified, feeling his gut tighten. "I told you I was a bounty hunter at one point."

Overhead, there was the sound of wings, but whatever passed by was hidden by the fall of night.

"Mm. I see." the other man nodded, tone neutral. "How long did you work together?"

He thought for a moment, his internal calculator spinning uselessly.

"A few years. Hard to remember exactly how long at this point." he insisted, scanning the darkening sky. "It was a long time ago at this point. Decades."

The questions ceased for a moment or two, the man he'd grown to feel rather close with—in his own way, at least—obviously sensing that he needed a breath to get his head straight. Still, he was impatient as ever, watching him very closely as he hesitantly turned and started making his way back the direction he'd come from, his legs dragging as if they were made of lead. Joshua followed along silently.

"You were close?" he asked eventually, voice growing quieter as the voices of others could just barely be heard again, chatting and singing coming from around the main fire pit.

The pair stopped again abruptly, John turning sharply to face him despite the way his face remained flat.

"What do you care, Joshua?"

The look he was given in return communicated the bandaged man's response just fine, despite the silence that continued to fill the air between them:

You know why, and you know I won't say why. Let's not play games.

His face felt warm when he gave in.

"At some points, yeah. He's not the easiest guy to be close to." he said, a half-truth. It wasn't until he'd said it that he realized the irony of his words, but neither man seemed to linger on it much.

"Things didn't end well."

Joshua’s words were a statement of fact, not a question.

"What makes you say that?" he asked, wrinkling his brow.

"You're doing a poor job hiding it." was the response, just as matter-of-fact. There was no accusation in his tone, not really, but the blunt statement made John squirm. He shrugged rather aggressively, back to studying the ground again. His left hand wandered up and down his right arm and shoulder, slow and absent.

"I guess so," he confessed.

Again, there was a breath of reprieve, but the current of Joshua's devouring curiosity refused to abate, pulling them both under once more.

"What happened?"

The discontented huff that left his chest was almost painful in its rapidity, his whole back stiff in his sudden anger.

"God, will you knock it off with the damn inquisition?" he snapped. "I don't wanna talk about it. I don't grill you about the people who left you for dead, so I'd appreciate it if you'd grant me the same grace."

For the first time in the course of the conversation, something he said seemed to actually take Joshua by surprise. There was a long pause, the crackle of the nearby fire the only sound filling it. Very, very slowly, he reached out and placed a hand on John's shoulder for a second, giving it the briefest of squeezes that was also so soft it might not have even really happened. Everything around him was spinning, and suddenly he could hear his own breathing so, so loudly.

"I need some air." he declared, hands fidgeting, clenching themselves into loose fists over and over again as he paced back and forth a few steps. "I'm gonna go for a walk."

Joshua didn't reply to his anxious words, not that John hung around long enough to give him the chance. His legs carried him swiftly to the front of the camp, where the rocky hills crowded so close together they nearly touched. Following the shallow stream that flowed through the tight crevice and out into the park proper, he wandered for a while, his eyes searching more for constellations in the sky than for the placement of his next step as he thought over how his fairly simple life had become so complicated-feeling in less than a day.

He wasn't sure exactly how he'd ended up near the tip of the main trail, near the bridge where his whole life had changed when he'd first traveled to this place. Maybe he was just subconsciously drawn to it.

Or something else.

"Well, well. What're you doing out here?"

The sudden voice made him jump, but only a little. Still, he scowled, squinting a bit to make out the details of Cooper's face, hidden in shadow as he stood with his back to the moon on the rocky ledge above his head.

"I'm just out for a walk. Mind your business." he said, tone dismissive.

He chuffed a laugh at that, and the sound rubbed at John's raw nerves all wrong.

"What're you in such a big hurry for? Gotta get back to Mister Mummy?" he heard as he began to pass by. "That's what does it for you these days, eh?"

"Oh please. What do you know?" John called, continuing down the path until he was stopped by the tall, lean body that dropped down in front of his, blocking the path.

"I know you." he said, face more visible, but still obscured by the blue-tinted darkness around them.

"Again, please."

He made to pass by, but his movement was mirrored. He sighed.

"I just wanna get back."

"Quite the coincidence, running into you." Cooper noted, looking around at the rocky terrain.

His eyes rolled again, hip cocking in annoyance.

"Sure, real coincidence." he agreed facetiously. "Don't bullshit. You followed me, just like always."

"And he doesn't?"

John could feel his neck flush suddenly, and he stood up especially straight.

"He's not that controlling."

Another chuckle, another flush of heat across his marred skin.

"Oh yeah, that one really seems real laid back. Quite the barrel of laughs."

The sudden rush of annoyance he felt was enough to drive John to very nearly give him a shove, but he managed to resist the boiling temptation.

"Less sour-faced than you most of the time!" he shot back, instantly even angrier when that self-satisfied grin spread its way across Coop's face. He knew he had him on the back foot.

"Oh-ho, I definitely believe that." he laughed.

"Hey! He's..." the younger man began, but he stopped himself as quickly as he'd begun. "You know what? I don't owe you any sort of explanation."

The Ghoul's posture straightened again, the faux-relaxation he'd been demonstrating gone in a split second.

"That right?" he asked, chilly.

John's heart rate shot up at the response, his face burning, but he refused to give him the angry response he knew he was being baited into.

"You certainly didn't seem to think you owed me one, Coop. Or even a second look, for that matter." he said, voice tight, but collected.

Obvious guilt washed over the bounty hunter's face, but for a long moment, he said nothing. It wasn't until he started to walk away that he could hear a voice call out.

"Johnny...wait. C'mon." he said, audibly shifting his weight from one foot to the other. "Just talk to me for a second. I never thought I'd see you again."

He couldn't help the frustrated groan that left him—though the way it hit his ear, juvenile and whiny, made him flush with embarrassment. It had always been a special skill of Cooper's to be able to get under his skin like this. Sighing, he rubbed at the spot between his eyes, a dull pain starting to build there.

"What are you even doing here?" he asked, exasperated.

"Followin' up on a lead."

John rolled his eyes dramatically, unsure why he'd even asked.

"Oh, color me shocked." he said.

The guilty look still lingered on Cooper's time-worn features, but his face did brighten up a degree or two when he gave his next response.

"A lead on another Vault. Might have my family inside."

The statement managed to cool the heat building inside him enough to silence him for a split second, a truncated little huff leaving his lips in vaguely numb surprise. Of all the places in the world for him to settle down...

"Oh." he said, more chagrined than he wanted to be and treading carefully. "Well. I'm happy for you. You know, if that's the case."

In their days traveling together, he'd seen a few leads to the whereabouts of Cooper's family fail to pan out, and the idea that he might have yet another heartbreak on the horizon actually made John's chest a bit tight. He frowned at the feeling.

"I really hope it is," he added.

The bounty hunter sort of rolled his head toward his shoulder in a nonchalant gesture, but John knew him well enough to see the very subtle signs of worry in his face. Still, though, there was that light of hope in his hazel eyes, the one that made him look so vulnerable in certain moments. If there was anything John had learned about Cooper, it would be the very certain knowledge that if he completely lost his belief that he'd ever find his family, he'd cease to be anything but a husk; seeing that light made breathing just a touch harder. How much longer would it be there?

The very peak of the tension between them seemed to have come and gone, a slight, but cool breeze blowing through the valley and licking at the back of John's neck. He turned the collar of his long shirt up, watching as his sudden companion placed his dark hat back on his head.

"If you wanted, you could come with me to check it out." he offered, tone very deliberately casual once more. "Might be something worth diggin' out."

The offer didn't really shock him, not the way he'd expected it might. Instead, his own response is what took him by surprise, chiefly the amount of time it took to formulate.

"I...I dunno." he said finally, staring back towards the camp.

Cooper's non-existent brows just barely reached upwards for a split second, but he didn't react much otherwise.

"Well, think on it." he said, tugging on the thick leather strap of the small satchel that he always carried. "Vault's not that far away, another day's walk or so. I could have you back quick, if you wanted to come back."

As he spoke, that casualness seeped back into his posture, and his movements were more fluid as he adjusted the angle of the brim of his hat, flicking it in a sort of playful gesture as he turned to head east.

"See you." he called over his shoulder before disappearing around a nearby bend.

"Later." John replied, quiet and small. After Cooper had gone, he was left standing there alone, soaking in the feeling of the night air licking at his face. He swallowed thickly, letting out a deep sigh and feeling an invisible tension melt from his shoulders.

As he started his way back down the hill towards home, he thought he heard what sounded like a few footfalls above him, and he was suddenly painfully aware of how stupid he was to have wandered this far alone at night with no more than the. .45 Joshua had given him. True, he didn't have to worry about ambushes—at least, not nearly to the same degree, but there was no kind of understanding with the yao guai. Trying to keep his steps light, he kicked his pace up double-time and was back to the flat, open area where the main fire burned in no time. Once he could see the inviting yellow-orange glow of the flame, he paused to catch his breath, hands on his aching knees as he stooped to study the way ahead.

As he'd expected, most folks were asleep, and the ones that weren't were engaged in some sort of quiet work or meditation; that included Joshua, who sat on one of the logs that sat near the pit, his long legs extended in front of him as he turned the next page in his scriptures. He couldn't make out the faded gold cross that embossed the front of the heavy-bound book, but he didn't need to see it to know what it was.

"Hey." he said, pushing up his sleeves awkwardly. "I'm gonna turn in. I'm tired."

With a slight delay, Joshua looked up from the page.

"Ah." he said. "Rest well."

With a silent nod, he dismissed himself to spread out on one of the available bed rolls, his nagging back protesting more than usual as he lowered himself down. Drinking in the beautiful, inky sky above him, speckled with too many stars to count, he tried and failed to force himself to think of anything other than the ghoul likely nosing his way through the park. The uneasy tension in his gut had never really subsided, and refused to do so no matter what position he shifted himself into.

He felt bad for lying to Joshua. Was a lie of omission on the same level as a full-on lie? Did he get any points for it not being believable to begin with? His statement about he and Cooper being close off and on had been profoundly honest on his part, he thought...just not completely honest. What he'd failed to mention was just how close they had really been when times were especially good...or especially fraught.

He wouldn't say the two of them had ever been a couple. "Partners" was the only title either of them had ever used, and it was the only one that had ever felt like it fit at all, though questionably even then. They hunted bounties, made money together, drank, fought. All the hallmarks of a typical Wasteland business partnership that could end at a moment's notice. It was just that in addition there were a handful of times where they'd ended up naked together, desperately gripping onto one another like the world would end if they didn't.

The memory made his gut tight in another way, and that made him huff in annoyance. He rolled over sharply onto his side and squeezed his eyes shut, willing himself off to sleep.

Even in his dreams, Cooper wouldn't leave him be. It had been a long, long time since his mind had forcefully taken him back to the day their partnership ended, the day they'd been slicing their way through an abandoned cavern in hot pursuit of yet another lead on a job. He could feel the cool, damp air of the cave around him, tickling at his face as he tried to keep up with Coop, the loose gravel and wet moss that covered the ground slick and unsteady beneath his boots. The image of the ragged ends of that damn overcoat disappearing around the corner was so clear.

The explosion was never as loud in his dreams as he remembered it being. Maybe his mind simply didn't have the ability to recreate the earth-shattering feeling, the sound that had left him mostly deafened for weeks afterwards. His right side burned and hissed as his clothing burned and his skin cracked, the white-hot pain paralyzing him as he cried out, desperate for his partner to turn back and rescue him.

Per usual, that's when he woke up shaking.

John's bad side ached still, the skin irritated even as the dream fully cleared away. He grabbed at it, heart still flying as he fully expected to find flames that would need to be smacked away. Thankfully, there was nothing. Well, nothing but the suddenly clear pressure of another person sitting beside him, their crossed leg just barely touching his side.

"Nightmare?" Joshua asked, just barely patting at his back.

John drew in a deep breath, the sound trembling as he steadied himself as best as he could.

"Yeah." he said.

The other man nodded in understanding, obviously more than a little familiar with bad dreams about serious injuries. Wordlessly, he offered John some coffee in a banged up metal mug, watching him closely as he drank it down. His sturdy silence was comforting, and soon the day didn't seem quite so intimidating to face.

Cooper must've taken the opportunity to clean himself up in the time they'd been apart, noticeably tidied in some very subtle ways when the two met near the crest of the tallest hill in the park. The bluffs overhead still dwarfed it considerably, but the view was breathtaking nonetheless. There was a light of excitement in those expressive hazel eyes of his, and the sight made the lump in John's throat ache even worse than it already was.

"I can't go with you." he said.

That light flickered, intensifying into a heated look.

"Why not?" he demanded.

He took another steadying breath, going over the words he'd practiced in his head again and again the whole walk here.

"Because I want to be here," he explained. "I'm happy here."

Cooper studied him for a long, hard moment, his face difficult to read except for the obvious disappointment that painted it. He, too, drew in a long breath, but the sigh John expected never came. When he turned on one heel to start down the hill, John's good hand dared to strike out and grab at his shoulder, bidding him to stop.

"I don't want you to think I never want to see you again or anything just because I'm not coming with you. You're always welcome to come here if you need help or a place to rest. I know you need it sometimes. I wouldn't deny you that." he swore. "And we're finally starting to get a real trade outpost established, so we should have our hands on a decent stash of vials within the next few months if we're lucky."

Still, Cooper just looked at him, almost like he was seeing him for the first time. For the briefest of seconds, John was upset by the lack of reaction, but as soon as they both stood to look at one another, he was overwhelmed by relief that there was no escalation, no yelling. The quiet between them was stilted and rather blue, sure, but both of them were looking one another right in the eye. There was no room for lies here.

"I'm happy for you, John." Cooper finally said.

John hadn't been able to cry in years, but it felt like he'd break into tears at any moment. He smiled, a sad, but grateful expression, and stuck his burned hand out in front of him. After a moment of hesitation, eyeing the appendage closely, Cooper wrapped his gloved one around it and the two shared a long, slow handshake.

"Well." the old cowboy said finally, eyeing something over John's shoulder. "Gotta go. They might be waitin'."

He nodded and slowly reclaimed his hand.

"See you, Coop."

With one final look, the Ghoul turned and began to walk towards the horizon, the desert sun burning down on his dark visage as he went. Thanks to the high vantage point, John was able to watch him for quite a while, squinting his eyes when he became nothing but a black dot crawling along. When he finally disappeared out of sight, John let out a breath he hadn't been consciously holding.

"All done?" came a familiar voice from behind him yet again.

This time, he smiled warmly when he turned to see Joshua emerging from the shadows, glad he didn't have to wipe his eyes or explain why his face was so red.

"Yeah." he said softly.

"Hungry?" the bandaged man asked, either too tactful or too uncomfortable to address the emotional state of him. Maybe a bit of both. Still, his hand was extended, and John accepted it, using it to steady himself as he climbed back down. When he'd reached the ground again, their small embrace lingered for a beat or two. John's chest was full of warmth, and he smiled again, but much brighter this time.