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The night was quiet to an untrained ear. Besides the chirping of insects and crackling of one's campfire, the desert seems to hold no important sounds. If one was unlucky, though, and had picked a valley of deathclaws or nightstalkers to set up camp, the sounds of death would soon change that. To a trained ear, though, one of a hunter, the distant howls of coyotes could be discerned. Somewhere not too far away, a bighorner was rushing towards an unsuspecting raider.
Elsewhere heard all of this, sitting by the fire and sipping on a (disgustingly warm) Nuka-Cola. He had given up on trying to sleep, instead shooing Boone to bed so he could take an early watch. He wanted time to think.
The Mojave wasn't a good place to fall in love. Far from it, really, anyone you trusted could quite easily kill you in your sleep. Any moment of vulnerability left a defenceless place, a chink in your armor that could be used against you. Yet strangely, Boone hadn't done anything to him.
Truly, he had so many chances to betray Elsewhere. They slept together in safe houses, bodies pressed together for warmth (or perhaps more than that). With an embarrassed glance behind him to ensure Boone was not listening to his thoughts, Elsewhere thought back to the last night they spent in a bed together. He couldn't have taken a riskier approach to finally sleeping with the sniper; what would have happened if Boone was disgusted?
He thought back further, to a night spent together under the stars, Boone's lips tracing along the scars on Elsewhere's chest. The memory of the sensation alone was enough to raise goosebumps all over his body.
He sighed and used the long stick beside him to poke at the remains of the fire. If he focused, he could hear Boone's steady breathing in the shoddy tent behind him. Elsewhere couldn't bear to confront his desire to be in his arms, to be comforted by the steady rise and fall of Boone's chest.
If only you were braver, he thought to himself. You wouldn't be so afraid to tell him how you feel.
Another voice spoke up, this one sounding much more like his own.
You're crazy. He just lost Carla, you're just a matter of convenience. He could never love you.
Elsewhere rubbed his face, trying to distract himself from the tears welling in his eyes. Behind him, Boone shifted in his sleep, most likely rolling over from his right side to his back. It embarrassed Elsewhere that he knew Boone's sleeping patterns this well. He couldn't help but watch his companion sleep; those moments were his most peaceful. The courier's cheeks flushed. He hoped again that Boone couldn't read his mind.
Why was Boone so kind to him? The usual aloof rigidity Boone presented other people with didn't seem to apply with Elsewhere. Would it be possible for all of their shared moments to mean nothing?
"I mean, meaningless sex ain't completely unheard of," He spoke aloud. "God knows I've had my fair share."
He just wanted it to mean something . Elsewhere wanted the kisses they exchanged, the raggedy teddy bear Boone gave him, the passion they shared, to mean something to Boone. The careful attention to his chest and affection to his scars, the determination to help him, the willingness to stay… Could they just be an attempt to gain Elsewhere's trust only to break him again? Had Benny set him up to this?
Before he realized it, Elsewhere had his head between his knees, breath coming in labored gasps. His mind raced, every nerve in his body on fire with the instinct to run, get away from this threat. He clutched at his hair in panic as a terrified cry ripped itself from his throat. Had he dropped his stick? He needed to protect himself somehow, Boone had surely woken up and would kill him in response to the discovery of his true intentions. Elsewhere's body shook as he gagged, though he didn't quite realize he was gagging. Everything was moving so slowly, but too fast all at once. The world spun, was it ending?
He felt something digging into his shoulder and noticed he was suddenly on the ground. It appeared that he had fallen flat on his back, most likely losing his balance from shaking too hard. Blood coursed through his ears. Elsewhere was sure he was going to die from another bullet to the brain.
Except he didn't.
The commotion finally woke Boone up, prompting him to shoot out of his sleeping bag. He didn't bother reaching for his beret or his glasses. Elsewhere was in trouble, damn it, and that took priority over Boone's discomfort. It shocked him to see the courier on the ground, hyperventilating with his eyes screwed shut. He considered the scene for a moment before bending down and taking the man into his arms.
"Hey, hey, I'm here." Boone whispered. "Breathe with me. I'm not gonna go anywhere."
Boone held Elsewhere close, carrying him over to the mess of bedrolls and sleeping bags in the tent. The courier clung onto him like a child, fingers trembling against his white shirt. Gently, Boone lowered Elsewhere onto the cot beside his own. He pushed his right up against his companion's and held him once again, resting his chin on the top of Elsewhere's head. The courier still wept.
"Please don't kill me I don't want you to kill me, oh God Craig I don't want you to hurt me. I wanna mean somethin', I want whatever we have to mean somethin'."
As Elsewhere rambled, Boone traced circles into his back. He held the man close, simply listening to him voicing his fears. The reassurance could come later. A quiet hiccup marked the end of Elsewhere's frantic speech. Boone stayed silent for a few moments. The courier seemed to finally be relaxing under his touch, his breathing no longer uneven and shallow.
"You know that I don't like talking too much," Boone said bluntly. "So I'm going to say this in as few words as possible: I could never hurt you. I lo-"
His voice caught.
"I care about you, Elsewhere. You make me happy."
The courier sniffled. Boone kept talking.
"Making me happy… It isn't very easy. The last time I felt this good, I was…" He sucked in a breath. "I was with Carla."
He supposed now was a good time to feel all of the things about Elsewhere he pushed aside. Suddenly, he was acutely aware of how natural the courier's body felt against his own. Boone swallowed the lump in his throat and continued to rub Elsewhere's back. Were they close enough, and if so why did the desire to hold him so close it hurt ring through his ears? Why was any of this happening?
The courier had stopped crying. He still clutched at Boone's shirt as if it were the only thing keeping him from floating away. Perhaps it was. He nestled his face in the crook of the sniper's neck and sighed.
"It'd mean the world t' me if we could stay like this forever," said Elsewhere.
Boone lips quirked up in a brief half-smile. The hand on Elsewhere's back trailed up to his hair, fingers running through it unexpectedly gently.
"I promise we'll be able to one day."