Work Text:
Thunder consumes the diner as you poke at warm coals from an earlier fire. You were never really scared of lightning, there's far worse out here than loud noises, but your companion's sleeping form shudders at each roll of thunder.
You had just about forced The Ghoul sleep first, regardless of how persists that he 'doesn't need to sleep just yet'. This far into your journey together, you know better to listen to the old man about anything to do with his well being. At first, he'd seemed almost unshakeable, the wasteland only leaving a mark in the form of his marred skin. But, you started to pick up on a more gentle-handed man beneath centuries of torment and survival.
He's grumpy in the mornings, easily aggravated when he hasn't rested well. Something you only picked up on a few months into travelling with him. He never got particularly angry at you, only his trigger finger less forgiving in the mornings that followed sleepless nights. Whenever music plays, he faintly hums the tune and he almost always has enough water for two, no matter how hard he insists you will have to go search for some yourself. Now, if you were to mention any of these findings to him? You would be left in the middle of the desert to fend for yourself, not to say that he hasn't noticed your attentive gaze and fascinated behaviour towards him as of late. It's fair to say he doesn't mind the growing intrigue between the two of you, maybe he even has a list of his own about your habits and such.
So when a sound resembling a whimper comes from the couch you let the ghoul rest on, your thoughts quiet and your movements still as you listen out for confirmation of the strained noise. When it repeats, it is accompanied by a twitch from the sleeping man. Thunder rumbles through the ground as you make your way up to the couch he lays on, scanning his face for signs of discomfort or pain. It's twisted into a violent frown, tears pooling at the edges of his recessed eyes. You'd never seen him like this, hell it even passes your mind that maybe somehow he wandered off and another laid down in his place. You contemplate leaving him but you're pulled out of your thoughts by the slight worried movement beneath you. His face painted in pure terror and sadness all at once, you can't bare to see him like this.
"Cooper?" your voice barely above a whisper. A soft hand finds its way to his cheek, tracing soothing circles into his dented skin.
He'd only told you his name a few weeks back, told you to not use it in public, leaving it unused and heavy on your tongue. Until now, that is.
His face softens slightly, leaving you to continue the soft actions in hopes to calm the tides of his soul.
"You alright cowpoke?" You whisper softly, your teeth worriedly finding their way into your lip as you watch his face stir from the dark grip sleep had on him.
It takes him a moment to wake up but as he does, his eyes lock with yours. The feeling of your soft warm hand against his skin almost burns in comparison to the memories he was forced to relive minutes ago. He can feel the tears still on his face, realising he must have alerted you in his sleep. He tries to make a joke about you being too soft but it dies in his throat as your truly concerned eyes look him over. Neither of you move, nor do you say anything. You, being too scared to have offended or crossed a boundary between you both. Him, being certain the man he's tried so hard to repress will lean into your touch and all he has worked to become will crack beneath the first genuine caring touch he's felt since the war.