Chapter Text
This was real stupid. The stupidest thing he'd done in a hot minute, but resisting temptation wasn't really a thing for him, anymore, and he was a curious kinda guy, wasn't he? Wouldn't've kept his sorry carcass going for as long as he had if he hadn't been dyin’ to know what happened to his family after-
After.
And you had to make your own entertainment in The Wastelands, mostly, not like there were theaters or amusement parks or even libraries to pop by anymore. Had to admit, even if it was just to himself, that it wasn't like the vaultie made for poor company, moral grandstanding aside.
You could talk to a dog all you like, but they couldn't talk back. Couldn't screech like a banshee at a radscorpion, either, but you had to take the good with the bad, even if the bad nearly blew out your eardrums a couple times.
Girl had a pair of lungs on her, for sure. A nose like a bloodhound, too, for sniffin’ out supplies, soft hands digging through rubble, pulling out caps and bullets and a whole entire fuckin’ sword that one time. She'd sulked for two days solid when he'd made her leave it behind.
Like hell he'd risk her skewering him. Or herself. A finger lost to her was more than enough, for him, and she'd probably prefer to be intact when they caught up to her daddy.
A cold nose pressed into his palm, wet dog eyes stared up at him, almost accusatory. He just shrugged down at Dogmeat. She huffed at him, an offended little noise, and trotted off to check on her new favorite person, who was currently making a brave attempt to drink herself into an early grave.
It was funny. Funny as all hell watching her choke the first few swallows down, more shine ending up down her front than down her gullet. Funny watching her stagger around after a few more drinks, coughing but keeping them down, limbs going wobbly and voice getting shrieky with laughter.
It was gonna be a pain and half, keepin’ her corralled, he could already tell. She kept glancing at the door he'd planted his ass right in front of, mischief stamped all over her face, eyes bright, face gone all over red from the booze and her constant giggling.
… Was nice, he supposed, to see her laughing; not just the mocking scoff she'd make whenever he said somethin’ she didn't wanna hear. Louder than the little chuckles she'd try and smother whenever he said somethin’ she didn't wanna hear but at least was funny about it.
He also supposed she thought she was bein’ sneaky, with the little crab walk steps in his direction every minute or so, up on her tippy toes and everythin’, bottle swingin’ loose in her hands.
“Hey. Hey. You want some?” She held the dingy bottle up to his face, way too close, almost clocking him in the chin. It was a cold splash on his throat, and whatever face he made about it had her giggling again. “Sorry, sorry! Mister Ghoul, sir, please, I'm sorry!”
Mister Ghoul, Jesus, he thought. “I'm good, sweetie. Why don't you head back over to your little corner and try not to make more of a mess?”
Her mouth did this weird thing where it wobbled like she was gonna cry, but was still smiling, lips going down and up and down and up. Her laughter was a bit more hysterical, like it also couldn't pick between drunken happiness or drunken misery.
“Sorry for the mess! I'm just- you know?”
He did not know, but could hazard a guess. “You ever been drunk before, vaultie?”
She didn't answer, too busy starin’ at his neck, rocking her torso from side to side and slugging back more of that paint stripper masqueradin’ as alcohol. He very much did not like that she was back to lookin’ clever; edged himself a bit more solidly in the doorway so the only way out of the relative safety of this derelict building was directly through him.
The day he couldn't keep some sauced sweetheart of a vault dweller from gettin’ past him was the day he hung up his hat for goo- what the fuck what the fuuuuuu-
She'd staggered towards him, which had been expected, but started lickin’ at his throat, which abso-fucking-lutely had not fuckin’ been, Christ, what the actual shit.
Any response he could think of died in his chest before it could work its way up, mouth flapping uselessly as this clearly deranged woman kitten licked all the spilled liquor off his neck and nuzzled at the collar of his shirt. She was humming like she was havin’ the best dessert of her life, her breath cool relief on his overheated skin.
Good fuckin’ goddamned lord, she must've been drunker than she looked, must've been one of those people who could get totally shitfaced while still seeming mostly okay. He gripped her shoulders tighter than he meant to, panic thrilling hot all over his nerves. She made a little ‘hurk’ noise when he shoved her back, tongue poking out, head floppin’ all loose on her neck.
“What the fuck, vaultie.” He couldn't make it come out as a question. “What the hell is wrong with you?”
“That's so funny, you asking me what's wrong with me!” She hiccupped twice in a row, quick and sharp. “Because you tortured me that one time? And dragged me around, like I was Dogmeat? I'm not Dogmeat. I'm Lucy.”
“Well, not Dogmeat-”
“Lucy! My name is Lucy! Not vaultie or sweetie or girlie or any of that, okay, and I like it sometimes but it's also annoying! You're annoying!” She had some fuckin’ nerve, calling him annoying while she poked his cheek, with the janky finger, still floppy, still all red from drink and laughing, breathin’ hooch fumes all over his face.
“Lucy,” she instantly perked up, “why the fuck did you lick me?”
“I made a mess,” she said, serious again.
“You clean all your messes up with your mouth, darlin’?”
“No.” She pushed against his hands, but like hell was he letting her get into range again. “I just wanted an excuse.”
“To lick me?”
“To get my mouth on you,” she corrected, blinking placidly like she didn't just forcibly yank his train of thought onto another track entirely. “I wanted to kiss you, but you're not very approachable.”
He wasted a few moments staring, agog, while she finally remembered she had arms with hands attached to ends and tried to pull him to her, rather than trying to get herself over to him. Her fingers curled into his collar, into his waistband, little ineffectual yanks to the soundtrack of her dissatisfied hiccupping.
“There a reason you didn't just ask?” He finally managed.
“You would've said no,” and he could hear the ‘obviously’ she was too polite to stick on the end of that sentence, even three sheets to the wind. “I thought maybe being assertive would work.”
He would have said no. Of course he would have. ‘Complicated’ didn't even begin to cover the way their lives already overlapped, and gettin’ his dick wet wasn't near worth the hassle of adding another layer to that pipin’ hot mess.
And she was drunk, drunk as a skunk and just as liable to bite, and he was old and tired and mean and what did she even see in him? Couldn't be his good looks, those had literally melted right off, along with his morals and ethics and- goddammit, she was going in again, taking advantage of his loosening grip to dive at the hollow of his throat, nose tucked in nice and sweet, cozy as anything.
“Did it?”
Cooper didn't have the strength to push her off again, so he just let his fingers unclench and trail down her arms, setting her to shivers.
“Did what?”
“Did being assertive work? Um, sir?”
He swallowed. She rubbed her face into the motion, mouth open like she was breathing him in. “Cooper,” he rasped out, harsh like he'd been runnin’ for his life.
“Cooper.” Said like he'd given her a brilliant gift and not just his name, whole body leaning into his, soft and sugar sweet. The damn dog was panting at their feet, happy families, as if this wasn't like the set up for a really stupid joke; A PreWar Ghoul and a Vault Dweller walk into a bar, Vaultie gets plastered and makes a move on the Ghoul hahafuckingha.
“Just- stay there for right now, alright, sweetheart?” He didn't think he could deal with anything else at the moment. “You stay right there, and we'll talk about… everythin’ else later. When you don't stink like a distillery.”
“I'm a coward,” she said, apropo of fuckin' nothin’. “Liquid courage, you know? You know?”
Guessed he did know. Let himself hit the door and slide down, taking her along, til their asses were on the floor, hers nestled safely in the bracket of his thighs. She took it as permission to snuggle up, elbows jabbing into places elbows should never go, but damn if he could bring himself to snap at her over it.
Already half asleep, he thought, something hideous and beautiful and terrifying swelling up in his gut. Already too trusting, already too far to go back.
His eyes shut, the dog curled up at his side, Lucy curled up in his lap. They'd talk more tomorrow, but right now- right now he'd just let them sleep.