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If there was something Six was sure about Boone, it's that he is a man of few words.
Instead of calling her by name to get her attention, Boone preferred to clear his throat, or to greet her with a simple “hey”. To show his displeasure, Boone would sneer or scowl instead of voicing it out, unlike Cass who would explode worse than a nuclear war head. It took Six a lot of time and patience before he told her of his tragic past, how he had to end the life of his own wife to spare her from the horrors of being a Legion Slave.
Boone is a quiet man indeed.
But the lack of words isn’t all there is to him.
The tiny smirks he makes when Six gives him that mischievous, devil-may-care look before decimating a platoon of Legion soldiers tells her enough that he approves. Sweaty palms and a panic-stricken face is enough to tell her about his distress upon seeing her bleed from a Deathclaw wound to the head. A warm hand on her shoulder is enough for Six to know that Boone’s there, and he is someone she can lean on.
Quite literally, as he caught her in his arms when she had too much to drink. He would wordlessly loop her limp arm around his shoulder, and would sigh and scoff as she dragged her feet behind, forcing him to carry Six bridal style. As Six leans into his chest, she can hear his heartbeat thundering against his ribcage, which seems to grow faster and louder the more she burrows her face into his chest. The sniper would carry her all the way to the Lucky 38, take a glimpse of her flushed face as the brief trip in the elevator took them to her quarters, and then he would gently lay her down on the king-sized bed. With hesitation, he would brush a stray lock of hair from her cheek, and tuck her in.
As he was about to leave, however, Six mumbles something.
And as he came closer to hear what she has to say, she held his face between her hands, and blurted out, “I love you.”
Boone’s kiss is enough to tell her that he loves her back.