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Cooper trudged back to camp with only slightly radioactive water dripping down his legs. It had been his turn to bathe first. Normally, he couldn't care less about hygiene, but his travel companion had insisted. It had been some time since he’d gotten to swim. He could tell Lucy was excited about it, too. The novelty of swimming was still new to her, as opposed to repeatedly being dunked against her will. But somehow she still managed to mind her manners and wait patiently. That, or maybe she was still shy about him seeing her undress. He shook the thought away along with the accompanying mental images.
He followed along the deer path while the sun started to set, casting a warm honey glow over everything. As he neared the end of it, he heard an almost familiar voice. Lucy's voice sounded strange—deeper and more gruff. He paused, curious, and saw Lucy standing with her back towards him in the middle of their camp.
She was wearing his jacket and cowboy hat. His eyes followed the curves of the oversized shoulders that hung down her arms. Down to the cuffs she must have rolled back to free her slender wrists. Then lower to where the frayed endtails of his duster pooled around her feet. His boots were comically large on her. She was pointing finger guns at Dogmeat, her stand in for an imaginary enemy. She was monologuing dramatically to the dog who sat dutifully across from her, wagging her tail.
"In this town, justice always prevails," Lucy said in her best imitation of a rugged cowboy voice. "And no one can outrun the long arm of the law!"
Cooper couldn't help but chuckle softly, watching her for a few more moments. Her enthusiasm was a little infectious, and he admired how thoroughly she threw herself into his old role. Clearly she had done her research, he was almost flattered.
Finally, when he couldn't resist any longer, he yelled out "cut!"
Lucy jumped, nearly tripping over herself as she spun around to face him. Her face flushed in embarrassment as she locked eyes with him. He was standing with his arms crossed. "Cooper! I was just—"
“That doesn't sound anything like me.” he interrupted.
Lucy looked up at him in horror. Her cheeks burned. She fumbled to remove his jacket and hat. "I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean—"
He stepped forward, stopping her with a gently raised hand. "Not so fast, now," he said. "You go ahead and try that again, from the top." A lopsided smile spread across his face.
Her fear began to thaw into a bashful delight as she slowly realized he wasn't angry. She nodded briskly, murmuring a determined “okey dokey.’
Exhaling, he crossed his arms, pretending to be a stern director. "Alright," he said, affecting an air of seriousness. "Your delivery needs work. More grit, less… whatever that was. And your stance—wider. You’re the sheriff, you’re trying to look intimidating, not like you're about to fall over." He punctuated his notes by gently kicking her feet into proper position.
She beamed at his playful critique, laughing. "Like this?" she asked, adjusting her stance and trying again, this time standing taller with more confidence.
Cooper chewed on nothing, pensively nodding. "Still needs some work." He gently guided her shoulders and readjusted her grip on her imaginary weapon.
Lucy laughed, clearly enjoying the act. Cooper couldn't help but revel in the sight of her shining, the tension of their journey momentarily forgotten. He let her go and stepped back, patiently waiting for her to compose herself. Her canine co-star settled comfortably on the ground and watched. She ran her lines a few times, trying not to giggle.
Lucy had taken her turn bathing in the lake along with a couple of RadX for good measure. When she returned, she found his coat still folded right where she left it at his side.
The sun set, the light from their small fire casting them both in warmth. They cooked and ate in peace, occasionally meeting each other's gazes and exchanging little grins.
As the night wound down he reached out, shoving his hat down over her face just to make her squeak. Lucy pushed it back up, her eyes sparkling. At seeing his outstretched hand, she tipped the hat to him with a wink, the perfect mimicry of an old western hero.
He pulled it back and settled it onto his own head before reclining onto his bedroll. He’d taken his boots back as well, but let her remain tightly wrapped in his coat without fuss. He’d retrieve it in the morning. He watched her settle in from under his brim, more than plenty warmed by both his own ghoulish constitution and the affection budding along his frayed insides.
Between light dozes, he thought to himself about how moments like these were so rare but somehow still existed in this world, in this case because of Lucy. She had a way of rooting around in his heart and pulling bits of his old self up out of the murky depths.
He thought about how scary it was to feel any sense of comfort, lest it be ripped away. But he’d already lost everything more than once, and he never really was any good at denying himself something that felt good. Thankfully, judging by her boldness in taking his belongings for the sake of something as simple as play, it didn’t seem like Lucy was, either.