Chapter Text
"I love how your eyes close whenever you kiss me,
I love the way you always treat me tenderly
But, darling, most of all I love how you love me"
Hours passed in a slow stretch of arid dust, heat waves rolled off hot pavement making the air shimmer. Cooper kept moving with the same stubborn, deliberate pace he’d set earlier, refusing to acknowledge his body was starting to push back.
The dryness in his throat had long since returned and a cough he kept forcing down clawed up every few minutes, each swallow scraping like sandpaper and leaving an aching burn that made drawing breath uncomfortable. He brushed off the dull ache that had settled behind his eyes, a faint pull of exhaustion he knew had nothing to do with the distance they covered.
He ignored it and he ignored her.
Not completely, he was still fully aware of Lucy behind him, she kept a careful distance since that awkward moment between them. Since then, she hadn’t tried to reach out toward him, a restraint that felt suspiciously deliberate like she was biding her time, waiting for…
A brief flare of temper tightened in his chest at the assumption he might simply collapse if she waited long enough. He was fine. He was more than capable of standing on his own two feet, no matter what she thought of him. Her doubt only fueled his resolve, his stubborn nature demanding he prove her wrong.
Finally, there on the horizon, a new uneven shape broke the line between sand and sky. As they drew closer it started to take form, a manmade structure flickering faintly with neon in the distance. More structures slowly emerged beside it, smaller silhouettes that still held their shape. He was certain the largest had once been a hotel or a casino, maybe still.
As they drew closer, more detail surfaced, the sign buzzed faintly, glowing letters clinging to life.
“Oh,” she said beside him, relief clear in her voice. “That looks like there’s still power.”
The neon hummed overhead as they stepped into the edge of the town. The closer they got to the large building the more the place came alive, light bleeding out through cracked windows and half lit signs, happy voices carrying out into the street. The street was littered with the inebriated who got themselves kicked out of the casino, drunks who slept under the shade of debris, bottles fallen from their hands.
Dodging the vagrants, they turned and headed directly for the casino’s entrance. The moment he stepped through the front doors, his body caught up with him in a sudden, heavy wave. Immediately, his body reacted to the stale, recycled air, heavy and warm, leaving him feeling abruptly unwell.
The overwhelming stench of old smoke, sour liquor, and sweat from too many unwashed bodies packed tightly together made his thoughts hazy. His throat tightened in response, the irritation flaring sharp as his body recoiled from the sudden change in air.
Lights flickered overhead, casting a jittery glow that made it hard to focus on any one thing for too long. People moved through the crowd in loose clusters, weaving past one another with little care for space or direction, faces appearing and disappearing in fragments before he could properly register them. Loud voices overlapping in bursts of laughter or petty arguments, glass clinked against glass, striking tables a little too hard creating a dull roar that made it difficult to separate one sound from the next.
It made his head swim. The ground beneath his boots didn’t feel steady anymore, he blinked, and the room seemed to sway in response. A wave of nausea crept in, his stomach tightening against the sensation.
He cut straight through the room, weaving past bodies, his focus narrowing down to the front desk at the far end of the floor, the quickest path to a door he could shut behind him. A strange heat flushed through him a moment later, his skin prickling beneath it.
Lucy stayed close this time, matching his pace as they crossed the floor, her attention flicking around the room in quick, assessing glances before settling back on him again.
The counter came up faster than he expected. He misjudged the distance by a fraction and bumped into it, one hand shot out to brace himself against the edge. His fingers curled hard around the wooden surface trying to ground himself to focus. The other hand was already in his pocket and caps clattered onto the counter.
It was enough for a room, more than enough, probably. He didn’t bother checking, didn’t care what it cost anything beyond getting somewhere he could shut a door and make the noise stop. His coat suddenly felt tight around him.
The man behind the desk looked up, taking them in with the kind of casual interest that came from seeing too many travelers pass through to find anything particularly noteworthy about the pair.
“Evenin’,” he started, easy enough, his gaze flicking from Cooper to Lucy and back again. “Lookin’ for—”
Cooper met his eyes in a hard stare.
Whatever the man had been about to say fizzled out mid-sentence, his expression shifting as he recalibrated, reading the look for what it was and deciding, wisely, not to push it.
“Right,” he said, clearing his throat as his hand moved to gather the caps. “A room, then.”
Cooper didn’t respond. He held the man’s gaze until the other finally looked away first, breaking under it and turning to the board behind him.
A moment later, a key appeared before him with a faint rattle as it slid across the counter.
“Upstairs,” the man said, a little quicker now, no longer interested in prolonging the interaction. “End of the hall, left side.”
He took it without a word, already moving back through the noise and press of bodies, the key clenched firmly in his hand as he made for the stairs.
Lucy followed without being told.
Each step felt heavier than it should have been, heat lingering under his skin, but he pushed forward, locking his focus on the stairwell ahead. The climb looked short but it didn't feel like it.
His boots hit each step with a heavier thud than he meant, the sound bouncing up the narrow stairwell and snapping loudly back at him. He tightened his grip on the key, cold against his palm. By the time they reached the top, the noise from below had dulled and was easier to ignore, replaced by the low hum of power that kept the lights alive.
The hallway stretched out ahead of them and he didn’t slow his pace until he reached the door.
He fumbled the key, frustration cut through him as he corrected it, forcing it into the lock. It took a second try, too long, in his mind, and he turned it with a sharper motion than necessary, metal grinding inside the mechanism. The door gave way with a low groan.
The room inside was simple. Two poorly made beds, a small table rested in between them, a heavily stained chair, and faded curtains draping over yellow tinted windows. It faintly smelt of old cigarettes and Abraxo.
Cooper stumbled across the threshold, one hand braced against the doorframe, his head dipping as he pulled in a slower breath to quell another wave of dizziness. His throat still burned, although now sheltered out of the desert heat, it somehow felt worse now.
His face grew uncomfortably warm, a sheen of sweat beading along his brow, he looked up to see the bed was only a few steps away. By the time he mustered the strength to move, he wasn't sure whether his legs were carrying him or if sheer momentum alone was doing the work for them.
He fumbled a step, then another and let himself drop onto the bed without bothering to ease his fall. The worn mattress dipped under his weight and the springs welcomed him with a tired creak.
For a long moment, he lay there savoring the fact that the room had finally stopped spinning. The simple act of not moving took the edge off the worst of the dizziness and ache of his limbs. It felt so nice to close his eyes.
Behind him, he heard the door latch close followed by Lucy’s voice.
His name maybe, then more words layered over it, concern threading through her voice as she spoke. He couldn’t understand what she was saying, only that what she was saying seemed urgent. Her voice was closer now, the words sounded softer but there was more emotion behind them that hadn’t been there before.
“Hey, stay with me a second, okay? Oh, fudge, you’re—”
⸻
Yellow was the color that greeted him and it took him a moment to realize he was in his old kitchen. At first glance everything seemed in place, the appliances were all there, decorations in their correct spots and there was not a spec of decay or dust anywhere to be seen. On the fridge hung family pictures of the three of them, Janey blowing out candles on her birthday, a beach trip with them playing in the ocean, Janey and Barb perched atop Sugarfoot, his hands wrapped in the reins.
By the time he turned around, Barb was standing against the counter, her arms folded across her chest, she seemed displeased. He blinked in surprise, had she been here this whole time?
“Barb,” he breathed in relief. Her face was emotionless and he suddenly felt nervous, “I’ve been searching for you.”
Barb let out a short, humorless laugh.
"No, Coop. You've been looking for excuses. You always had one ready."
“I don’t think-”
She was standing closer than before. He wasn't sure how she’d moved so fast.
“That always did seem to be your problem, you don’t think.”
The kitchen felt smaller now.
“Who was the one that held this family together? What did you think was going to happen? Expose me, the company, save the world and ride off into the sunset?”
Her voice echoed as if several of her were speaking at once.
“The world is not a movie Coop. You are not the hero in this story.” Her lips curled in disgust.
The family photos hanging on the fridge had changed, now only holding Barb and Janey. The places where he should have been standing were blackened now, as if burned away by match.
“You couldn't save your career, our marriage, yourself, and you certainly couldn't save Janey.”
“No, no that's not true. I tried, I'm trying!”
"And just how long have you been trying, Cooper? Where is Janey? Where exactly is she?”
Too ashamed to answer he turned his gaze to the window and found the sky churned into a sickly green.
"Where is your daughter?"
He blinked.
The kitchen was gone.
Heat pressed against his skin with suffocating intensity. The change was so sudden that for a moment his mind struggled to catch up and when he opened his eyes again he found himself blinded by the sun.
Cooper squinted against the glare. The air rippled with heat, distorting everything in sight. Even the sky seemed wrong, long gone was the green and replaced by a bleached scalding white.
There was nothing but sand as far as he could see. Then movement, a small figure appeared atop a distant dune.
He recognized that silhouette anywhere, his heart lurched. She looked so small standing there alone.
“Janey!" he shouted frantically. "Hang on, sweetheart. I'm coming."
He went to make a run for her but found himself stuck in the sand, his knees cemented in place, and the more he struggled the more he sunk into it.
A breeze swept across the desert, carrying her voice to him.
“Why don’t you find me Daddy? Why aren’t you looking for me?” she pleaded.
“I am, I am looking for you!” he yelled, trying to break free.
“Don’t you love me?” she asked tearfully.
"Of course I love you baby, more than anything,” he cried back, voice cracking.
He watched her dissolve into the heat, her hands disappearing first, then her face, leaving only her eyes to deliver a silent verdict of his guilt before vanishing altogether.
“Janey!”
A sudden whip of wind spun the sand upwards, burning his eyes. He blinked hard against the sting forcing his eyes open. He found himself standing in the dead center of a movie set, his stage set.
The painted backdrop towered above him, fake mountains, terrain, the blue sky. A stagecoach that sat along the fence line, perfectly placed barrels and bails of hay, the windmill spinning in slow circles. Cameras and set equipment scattered around him.
It was exactly as he remembered.
Looking down he realized he was in his usual costume, no longer torn and dirty it bore its bright, iconic blue and yellow hues. He ran his fingers through the tassels in disbelief.
“You won’t get me this time, Shreiff!”
A voice that belonged to none other than Joey Toro, who this time was not laying on the ground begging for his mercy, but rather had a woman held at gunpoint. She looked…
“Vaultie?” he asked dumbstruck, how was she here?
Joey tightened his grip on her, gun flush to her temple.
He went to reach for his gun only to find his holster empty.
“Make no move now ghoul.”
Joey’s finger tightened around the trigger.
“Please sir, you don’t have to do this,” Lucy pleaded, her eyes wet with tears.
“I’m afraid my dear, I do.”
BANG!
He watched in terror as the light drained from Lucy’s eyes. Her head lulled backward and her knees crumpled under her. He lunged, intercepting her fall, pulling her protectively against his chest. Tightly he held her still form, feeling a sickening warmth of her blood saturate his clothes. He cradled her head with a tenderness he didn’t know he still possessed, stroking his thumb gently across her cheek. His fingers left a glossy trail of blood smeared across her lifeless skin.
“Lucy?”
Everywhere he looked, there was only red. A suffocating flood of red, red, red.
“AND CUT!”
⸻
His body jerked awake.
The room tilted, blurred at the edges, shadows stretching in ways that didn’t make sense and for a few disorienting seconds he couldn’t separate what he’d just seen from where he actually was. Barb’s voice still echoed, the feeling of Janey slipping through his grasp, then Lucy, a gun, its flash, the moment he hadn’t reached her in time… her blood everywhere.
His chest seized, frozen, unable to draw breath.
A strangled sound of alarm broke from him, tearing against the burn already stinging his throat. He couldn’t breathe. His hand came up to his throat instinctively, panic filled him when his body refused to cooperate and he was met with a suffocating wave of heat that held him firmly in place. Before he could react further, a sudden chill startled him out of his racing thoughts. It was cool enough to make him flinch at the contact, shivers rippled across his skin and he found himself leaning into it without thinking.
“That’s it,” a voice murmured, breaking through his confusion. “You’re sick and you’ve got a fever. Try to breathe a little slower,” the voice reassured, adjusting the cloth to rest against his forehead.
The disorientation started to fade in pieces as he slowly forced his eyes open, previously unfamiliar surroundings aligning into recognizable ones, an ugly brown wallpaper, a dim light, muffled voices and revelry drifting up from the floor below.
Cooper blinked against the light and with his eyes fully open now, they found Lucy almost immediately, her face hovering above his. She was peering down at him, worry etched into her features. She wore a concerned look on her face, head tilted, brows drawn tight, and those soft lips of hers turned down in a sympathetic frown.
He didn’t understand why she was still here or why was looking at him like that. How she hadn’t left him when he’d made it clear earlier that he didn’t want her help was a mystery and why did she keep stepping in like he mattered.
A cool weight against his forehead interrupted his thoughts. He wanted nothing more than to sink into the relief it brought, to stay still and let the cold chase away the swelter of his skin. That urge alone was enough to make the stubborn streak inside him push back, because it meant accepting help from her of all people.
He took his chance when she pulled away to rewet the cloth, his hand lifting weakly in an effort to stop her. He meant to push her back, to reestablish the distance he’d been holding onto for hours, an adamant refusal to take what she was offering.
Her hand easily dodged his before he could follow through, adjusting the cloth where it had started to slip, and then she drew it slowly across his forehead in gentle motions.
The sensation hit immediately, now freshly cooled, the cloth felt icy against his skin and stalled his hand mid-motion. The resistance he’d been holding onto cracked and for a moment his body chose for him, leaning into it instead of pulling away.
Lucy repeated the motion, slower this time, the cloth dragging lightly across his hot skin before settling back into place against his forehead, her fingers lingering. The cool seeped in, cutting through the fever’s heat and before he could push her help away, a rough, involuntary sigh slipped out of him.
“That’s it,” she whispered, “you don’t have to fight it.”
He watched her fret over him, still trying to reconcile her reasoning for helping him. His confusion was not entirely gone, his mind numb from the exhaustion and the chill that cut through the heat in steady waves.
He caught a small shift in her expression, the way her mouth softened with relief, and it settled somewhere strange in his chest. It was a feeling he'd been noticing more and more lately, turning up at the most inconvenient times. Why she affected him at all was beyond him, yet it was becoming increasingly frequent.
She eased the cloth away and dipped it back into the bowl at her side, wringing it out with careful hands before bringing it back to him. He didn’t make a move to fight her this time, his mind focused on calming his breathing, the soothing cold, and her silent presence.
And then he became aware of something else.
It came to him gradually, the angle of his body, he was on his back now, no longer sprawled facedown as he'd been before. His legs were bent up at his knees, an unfamiliar support beneath his head that he knew wasn’t the mattress. It was far too soft and warm, to be that.
His eyes opened again to confirm it, slower this time, the cloth shifting as he looked down the length of himself, trying to orient, and then back up at her, the realization settling in fully now. His stomach flipped as understanding caught up with him.
His head wasn't merely being supported, rather it was resting fully in her lap.
Awareness hit all at once, it was clearer than anything else had been in the last few minutes. He could feel the warmth of her through her vault suit, the solid presence of her under his neck. Heat flared beneath his skin and this time it had nothing to do with the fever.
Heat rose to his face before he could think to stop it. He was acutely aware of the intimacy that they had found themselves in. It was undeniable, the kind of gesture that didn’t need words to make itself known and he didn’t know how to react to it when part of him wanted to pull away and another part… didn’t. He felt his face growing warmer by the second, the cloth useless against the heat building in his chest.
To his surprise, Lucy showed no sign of noticing his internal panic or how close they were. Her attention stayed fixed on him as she adjusted the cloth once more, moving it from his forehead down along his cheek, wiping away the dampness of sweat that had gathered there, her touch careful but confident. His brow furrowed as he looked at her and studied her face, searching for something that would make it all make sense, but finding none of the answers he expected.
“Let me take care of you the way you took care of me, okay?” she murmured softly, her voice gentle and placating his unease.
His throat wouldn’t allow it, even if he’d known what to say. So instead, he turned his head further into the cool cloth, unmistakably leaning into her touch. It wasn’t something he would have done if he’d been fully aware, but he told himself it was a response that slipped through only because the fever had worn him down enough to let it.
Lucy let the cloth linger at his cheek for a few minutes before easing it away, then she shifted, reaching for something out of his line of sight. When she came back into view there was a glass in her hand, beads of condensation already forming along the outside.
“You need to drink,” she said firmly, which didn’t invite an argument. “Slowly now.”
Cooper’s gaze dropped to the water swirling in the glass, his lips were dry, cracked along the edges and the allure of drink pulled at him. The second she hovered the rim near his mouth her words were long forgotten.
She tipped it carefully to his lips and the first sip was overwhelming, the cool sliding past the dryness, soaking into his throat that had been parched for far too long. His hand came up without thinking, closing firm around hers, anchoring it, making sure it didn’t pull away. He drank fast, water dragging down his throat in a soothing rush.
Lucy adjusted to his pace without comment, her fingers shifted under him so the glass stayed steady as he drank. “Easy,” she whispered, though there was no real reprimand in it, a reminder that he barely registered. The glass emptied quickly and when the last of it slipped past his lips, he lingered there for a second longer like he expected more to appear. Lucy eased the glass away, her hand brushing lightly against his as she did and for a brief second their fingers stayed there, touching, before he let go fully.
She looked at him then. There was something in her expression that hadn’t been there before, or maybe it had and he just hadn’t been in any state to notice it, a softer, deeper look, laced with a kind of concern that went beyond practicality.
A feeling in him shifted uncomfortably in response, a familiar instinct to pull back, create distance between him and the way she kept looking at him. The kindness she offered was more than he deserved.
She didn’t say anything about it. Instead she moved, reaching for the pitcher on the small table beside the bed, the quiet sound of water pouring into glass filling the room. Cooper watched as she replenished the glass. When she turned back, she offered it to him the same way as before.
“Just a little more.”
He drank again. Not as desperately this time, letting the coolness settle in his mouth before swallowing, he felt more controlled. His hand lifted on its own, this time not reaching for the glass. Rather, his fingers closed around hers where she held the cup, deliberate contact.
He felt Lucy still for a fraction of a second under his touch but she didn't pull away. An amused smile played at her lips and he quickly dropped his gaze, heat rising in his face.
When the glass emptied again, she eased it away slower this time, seemingly reluctant to disrupt whatever had settled between them. He let his hand linger even after the weight of the glass was gone from his lips. His fingers remained wrapped around her hand and her thumb brushed against his knuckles before she slipped free to set the cup aside on the table.
The clink of glass against the wood seemed louder than it should have been.
He fully expected her to leave now that she’d helped him drink. However, she shifted closer. When he met her eyes again, he caught her watching him. It was the same look she had that night by the fire many nights ago. Warmth bloomed in his chest before he could push it aside. He remembered there had been a moment then when he dared to look back, finding her eyes sparkle in the fire's flames.
Even through everything that had followed in the past days, that look still remained, solely directed at him as he lay sick and weak. He wasn’t supposed to be looked at like that, he was not someone to care about beyond necessity or convenience. It wasn’t the kind of thing he had room for or deserved with the life he’d been living, and yet here she was again, giving him the prettiest doe eyes he ever saw.
She made his heart stutter. The strange discomfort sent another flush of warmth to his face. He fixed his gaze on the ceiling, desperately trying to steady the frantic beat of his heart.
“You look better. Not nearly as pale as before.” Her tone was maddeningly casual entirely at odds with the effect she was having on him. He could see the corners of her mouth twitching, a smile she was trying to hide. She was clearly entertained by his embarrassment and he couldn’t begin to understand what exactly was so amusing about it.
“I have it on good authority that a certain vault dweller did tell you water would help,” she teased, her voice perfectly composed. He couldn’t understand how she was unaffected when his own heartbeat still refused to settle. It left him questioning whether he’d imagined the charged tension between them entirely.
Cooper shot her a pointed look. She answered it with a bright smile and a playful laugh, amused at his expense. He should have been annoyed but instead found himself enjoying the freeness to her face while she laughed, she looked happy. There was something irresistible about how openly she felt things, it seemed sincerity was simply the only way she knew how to exist. He didn’t know what he’d done to deserve her attention, and suddenly, he couldn’t picture himself without it. An uneasiness settled over him, he knew how this story ended for him.
She finally seemed to notice him watching. Her surprise flickered for a moment before melting into a shy smile beneath his gaze. He watched as color spread across her cheeks, his pulse jumped knowing he was the one to put it there. He couldn’t imagine what he’d done to cause it, he hadn’t meant to do anything at all.
He only realized his mistake a moment too late. His expression had softened without meaning to, he knew it reflected the same look she’d given him by the fireside. For a brief moment, his walls had fallen, and she had seen it.
Lucy’s eyes lingered on him, he could see she was considering a thought, before her hand lifted back to his face. This time there was no cloth, no pretext to hide behind. Her hand ghosted against the side of his cheek, tentative, he realized she was giving him time to pull away if he wanted to.
He didn’t.
The sensation of her, a gentle drag of cool fingers pads against his overheated skin, cut through the haze of fever better than the cloth ever could. Her touch was different without the barrier of fabric and his skin pleasantly buzzed under the trace of her fingertips. He found his eyes fluttering closed before he could stop them.
He wasn’t used to being touched like he meant something and yet he didn’t pull away. He allowed her fingers to move slowly against his skin, head still resting against her, suspended between instinct to pull away and the more dangerous urge to simply stay where he was.
When he dared to open his eyes again, they found hers staring back. The way she was looking at him wasn’t something he could brush off or misread any longer. Each beat of his heart landed harder than the last as the realization crept in.
A word hovered at the edge of his thoughts, one he refused to entertain for over two centuries. It came to mind anyway.
Lucy’s hand was still on his face, resting there as if his past didn’t matter, a lifetime of mistakes long forgiven. A rush of fondness filled him and he leaned further into her hand without thinking, his cheek pressing flush against her palm. He admired how she looked from this angle, the light catching in her big eyes, a faint pink that tinted her cheeks, her expression seemed to settle entirely on him like there was nowhere else she’d rather be.
She was beautiful.
The thought came unfiltered, slipping through before he could shut it down the way he normally would and his hand reacted before he could think better of it. Slowly, his own hand lifted to her face, brushing lightly down along her cheek in a mirror of what she’d done to him. Lucy’s face filled with momentary surprise but was replaced by a radiant smile as though she was relieved he’d finally reached out.
They stayed like that for how long he couldn’t say, simply taking each other in. The bustling noise below seemed to fade until it hardly registered at all. His attention narrowed completely around her, nothing else in the world existed.
He felt trapped in this hypnotic moment where neither of them moved or spoke, and everything around them felt like it was shifting into place. Cooper could feel his heart racing in his chest, each beat echoing in his ears. His gaze stayed locked with hers, searching, trying to understand why she was looking at him this way.
He couldn't remember the last time a woman had made his heart trip over itself this way, not even when he was courting Barb. Then again, maybe two centuries of loneliness had dulled those memories, leaving him unable to tell whether this feeling was stronger or if he'd simply forgotten what it was like to fall…
A small, very deeply buried part of him knew how that sentence ended.
It terrified him, running contrary to everything the Wasteland had instilled into him over the last hundred years. He found himself magnetically pulled toward her, every instinct in him screamed back that vulnerability only ended in an inevitable fallout.
And then she moved.
Slowly and carefully, Lucy leaned down, giving him every chance to stop her, to pull away if he wanted to. Her brown eyes never left his as the distance between them dwindled, inch by inch. The realization settled in fully and there was nowhere left to hide. He knew what she was about to do, her gaze hadn’t wavered and he found himself utterly helpless to resist her.
His lips tingled, his heart gripped with fluttering anticipation, breath catching as she drew impossibly closer.
Her hair slipped forward as she moved, strands falling around his face, tickling his skin. Unconsciously his hand rose to tuck them gently behind her ear and he couldn’t help but think how perfect that flower would have looked nestled there. Its fiery sunset petals glowing against her dark brown hair, like her, a touch of light in a desolate world. He should have picked it for her days ago and the regret still stung, he promised himself the next time he found one, he wouldn’t hesitate again.
He could feel her warm breath now. It sent a shiver through him despite the heat still clinging to his skin. He hadn’t allowed anyone this close in centuries, not since everything fell apart. Long enough that he’d convinced himself he was beyond wanting anyone or more likely anyone wanting him. This was wrong, she couldn’t want this, anyone who got close to him was destined to end in terrible-
Her lips met his.
His heart stumbled, then raced to catch up, beating unevenly in his chest as the reality of it settled. Cooper tensed reflexively, bracing and waiting for it to abruptly end. For her to pull back the second she realized what she was doing, what he was, who he was. Waiting for the inevitable recoil and disgust.
Instead, Lucy leaned into him, her lips pressing more firmly against his. Her thumb brushed slowly along his cheek, the same motion she’d used before, grounding him in place, reminding him wordlessly that she was still there, that she chose to enter his space and touch him.
The resistance he’d been holding onto crumbled under the warmth of her mouth, the gentle reassurance in the way she touched him. His defenses were fully breached now, he blamed it on a mixture of fever induced lack of thinking and the way she held his face. A small pang in his heart reminded him he loved when Barb held his cheek, she didn’t do it often and usually it was out of pity of him drinking too much. But now, Lucy's hand felt better than he remembered and here she extended her touch willingly and without hesitation.
Before he could come to his senses, Lucy's fingers stroked the length of his jaw. Her fingers left fire in their wake and he felt himself pathetically melt beneath her touch. His body softened against the mattress, the rigid edge of his posture easing as he let himself lean into the contact, into her, his hand fidgeting where it rested nearby, he wanted to hold her but didn’t quite know how or if she would welcome it.
Lucy’s embrace was far too gentle for the world they lived in, too tender for a man like him who deserved absolutely none of it and much too intimate for two people who had only known each other for such a short time. Her hands cradled his face like he was precious and his calcified heart swelled with sudden ache. It cut straight through the fevered haze, breathing life into a deeply buried place within him. Flooded with newly awakened emotion, an unguarded sigh slipped from him without warning, dragged from his chest before he could stop it.
Her lips parted his further, deepening their kiss, catching the choked sound of his surrender. He should have been furious by his own weakness, how easily she read him, but under the spell of her intoxicating touch, the thought simply faded away. His hand moved without his permission, coming up to hold her face in a mirror of how she held him. His fingers settled along her jaw, holding her there to make sure she wouldn’t pull away.
He finally allowed himself to kiss her back.
The last of his hesitation vanished and he drank her in greedily, her taste sweeter than that first drop of water she offered his parched lips. A breathless murmur of delight escaped her, seemingly thrilled by the fierce urgency of his mouth. Her sound brought an unfamiliar happiness to his chest, a soothing reprieve from a lifetime of misery.
His mind immediately supplied an embarrassingly sincere love song. He should have found it ridiculous. Instead, as they kissed, he could practically hear the soundtrack swelling around them. It was the sort of melody that once played under dim studio lights, the hero riding off with the girl into the sunset. All that was missing was a fading scene to a star filled sky and a title card reading The End.
He knew logically he wasn’t the hero anymore, far from it, but with the way Lucy was embracing him maybe, perhaps…
Cooper brushed the thought aside and traced his thumb along her cheekbones, savoring the feel of her unblemished skin. He held her with a gentleness he didn't know he still was capable of, soaking up her warmth he knew he may never have the chance to bask in again.
He felt her body shift against his and the kiss changed, her lips softened, parting from him with a careful lingering slowness.
His body lunged before his thoughts could catch up, leaning after her to chase the warmth of her lips before they disappeared completely. The movement was clumsy with exhaustion but driven by an acute desperation to keep open a connection he wasn't ready to sever. His body followed without waiting for permission, searching for her, leaning forward to close the distance between them again, to find her mouth and close that last inch she’d stolen from him.
A strained sound slipped from him, stuck between protest and need. Before she could pull away completely, his hand tightened around her arm on pure instinct, anchoring her to him. The space between them disappeared, he hovered there, breath uneven, his lips a fraction away from hers as an overwhelming need to feel her affection again drove him forward.
Startled by the intensity of his focus, she paused. A surprised gasp left her as he pressed closer than she’d expected, his desperation unmistakable. Her hand came up to rest over his where he gripped her arm. She didn’t pull away, rather she offered his hand a reassuring squeeze that steadied his racing thoughts.
“Hey…” she whispered, her voice gentle, “it’s okay, I’m not leaving.”
Cooper stilled at her words and reluctantly let himself look at her, expecting to see rejection staring back at him. Instead, he found a sparkle in her eyes that hadn't been there before, genuine, alive and unmistakably happy. He was left momentarily breathless once more. Her swollen lips curved into a teasing smile before she bit her lower lip and licked them clean, mirth danced in her eyes confirming she didn't regret a single second of kissing him.
He flushed, embarrassment burned under his skin. He was fully aware of how he’d reached for her without hesitation, practically begging for her attention. And now, the brazen way she was teasing him about it sent his heart fluttering back into a frantic pace.
“You’re not thinking straight,” she said quietly, there was no real reprimand in her tone, a gentle reminder meant for both of them. “You’re sick,” she added, holding his gaze, “you’ve got a fever and you need to rest.”
He frowned, a spike of irritation flared directed at his own weakness.
“No arguing this time.”
Tension lingered in him and his grip was still firm around her wrist, not wanting to let the moment break between them.
“I’m not going anywhere,” she assured sincerely. “Okay? I’m right here.”
He gave her a long, measured look trying to confirm she wasn't going to leave the second he let go. Finding nothing in her expression to doubt, reluctantly, he let himself fall back against the bed, exhaustion catching up now. His head found its place against her again but his fingers stayed where they were, wrapped stubbornly around her sleeve.
The sheer weight of her undeserved kindness hit him all at once, making his chest ache. His brow furrowed, he needed to tell her he was sorry for earlier and that she was completely right. His throat worked as he tried to gather the words forming in his mind even if his body refused to cooperate. His lips parted, a faint sound catching, strained and rough as he tried to force it out.
“Shh” she soothed, placing a hand to his shoulder, interrupting him before he could hurt himself further.
A moment later a finger pressed to his lips, shushing him. He looked down to find it was none other than the one he cut off and she had since replaced. In that moment, her will to fight back surprised him, a stark reminder that she was so much more than he first assumed upon seeing her vault suit. The same petite hand he had mutilated was now the source of comfort, tenderly caring for him when he was at his lowest.
“Not now,” she said hushed, the stern look in her eyes leaving no room for argument. “I know.”
Although he couldn’t verbalize his apology, her eyes were earnest, peering down at him with forgiveness written across her face. He was left puzzled at how she knew, wondering if two hundred years of fortified walls had truly been dismantled by nothing more than a fever and a single vault dweller. He felt a flicker of annoyance at how transparent he had become to her, yet a thawing part of him was relieved to experience someone who could read him effortlessly, anticipating his needs before they even crossed his mind. A sensation he hadn’t felt in centuries welled up in his chest, sparking a desperate urge to voice his thanks, incapable of speech, he did the next best thing.
He leaned up an inch and brushed his lips against her finger, an intentional kiss of his gratitude pressed directly into the pad of the skin. He lingered there, letting the warmth of his mouth soak into her flesh, sealing a wordless apology and an unspoken promise to do better by her.
Lucy’s breath hitched at his unexpected gesture of affection and she rewarded him with a smile so beautifully radiant it left him stunned. He had given little in comparison compared to all she had done for him, yet this tiny moment of gratitude seemed to mean the entire world to her.
Her fingers found his face with easy familiarity, brushing along his cheek in slow, soothing strokes as the last of the tension drained from him. Cooper leaned into her touch, surrendering without resistance as he shifted closer. His head settled comfortably against her thigh, exhaustion overcoming him. His eyelids grew heavier with each pass of her thumb along his cheek, the lulling rhythm coaxed him to sleep.
His breathing gradually settled into a comforting rise and fall of his chest, her hand continued its path along his face, fingertips tracing the line of his cheek, the curve of his jaw, ghosting over his lips with unspoken affection. His hand, still resting against her, curled more securely into the fabric of her sleeve, an unconscious need to keep some part of her close.
"I'm right here," she murmured, her voice barely audible.
"Get some rest, Cooper," she whispered.
His name on her lips sounded like music, rousing a silent hope of a future he hadn't dared to believe in until now. Her voice seemed to have the power to suture together the fractured pieces of his calloused heart and that if, she somehow, impossibly, stayed by his side, he might learn how to live again.