#implied angst?

Lulu woke up in between Cass’ thighs thinking there was no place else in the whole of New Vegas she’d wanna be.

She kissed a freckle on Cass’ knee and the skin there tasted like sweat and the whole gambit of sins they must have committed between sips of whiskey last night. Cass propped herself up on her elbows and grinned down at Lulu.

“Well, ain’t you just sweet as roses.” Lulu closed her eyes and felt long, skinny fingers combing through her hair. Stubby fingernails scratched her scalp in a way that made her skin tingle. “Y’aren’t going soft on me now, are you?”

“Mmm don’t think so, babe.” She skimmed her hands up Cass’ side when she crawled back up to the pillows. Mornings like this were just about the best. Cass wiggled to make room, but Lulu didn’t need space all so much as she needed more. More skin, more warmth. Cold desert nights, and all that. She rested her head on Cass’ shoulder and let her limbs get good and tangled up. She loved ‘em both—Boone and Cass—but hell if she hadn’t missed this little firecracker while she and Boone had been out fucking up Legionnaires. Boone was all quiet and stoic and that shit, but Cass knew how to have a damn good time. A gal needs a good snuggle every once and a while.

  “So, when you headin’ out again, darlin’?” Cass very casually slipped a cigarette from the pack on the dresser and held it between her teeth. Her hands fumbled with the lighter for a moment—flashes of tanned skin in the grey morning light. She loved watching Cass’ hands. All graceful and shit. The paper caught and she puffed until there was just a faint orange glow, highlighting the bones in her face and the wisps of copper hair. That right there would make a damn fine tattoo, she thought. Maybe on her arm or leg or something, where she could look at it all the time. Cass’ cheeks puffed up before she blew a thread of silver smoke over her bottom lip.

“Dunno.”

“That’s all you got for me?”

Lulu shrugged and wrapped her arm all the way around Cass to pick the cigarette out of her fingers. Cass didn’t put up a fight. The smoke swirled on Lulu’s tongue—warm and herbal, and tasting faintly of Cass’ lips. Cass stroked a hand down Lulu’s arm in a way that raised goosebumps all the way to her fucking toes.

“You come around like a bad habit, darlin’, and then you’re gone like smoke.”

The smoke from the cigarette faded out into the rising dawn.

“When did you start waxing fucking poetic?”

  “Around the last time you left,” Cass shrugged. Lulu pulled herself up so that they were face to face and pulled the cigarette from between her lips, settling it against Cass’ mouth.

“Always leave ‘em wanting more. You know how it is.”

Her thumb ran the course of Cass’ bottom lip before trailing down her throat. Smooth skin—warm and soft all over. Smoke from the cigarette dotted the air like ellipses with Cass’ uneven breathing. Lulu’s hand trailed down over ribs and rested low, fingertips brushing tight curls.

“Shiiiit.” Cass snubbed the cigarette in the ashtray on the nightstand and leaned back against the wall. “You are absolutely the worst thing to happen to the Mojave. I am damn sure of that.”

“Mmhm.” The Pipboy on Lulu’s wrist flashed once as the hour changed—five A.M. on February 14th. Valentine’s day on the dot. She wondered how the old world celebrated, but then decided, as she planted kisses trailing from Cass’ belly-button down, that she didn’t give a rat’s ass how they celebrated. She sure as hell knew how she wanted to celebrate.

The sound Cass made when her tongue flicked out was plenty enough reassurance.