#boothill is a sassy bitch who has rust in his butt crack

[auxlley]

The Ranger's Legacy - Boothill x Reader | Part 1

Genre - Slow burn, flirting, potential romcom with some serious undertones. WIP.

You leaned back in your chair, heaving a slow and weary sigh. The phone call had ended abruptly, your ever-returning client sounded like he was in shambles, his voice tired and raspy through the shoddy line. It had been roughly 3 years since his last visit, and in those 3 years, you had spent extensive time researching both the software and hardware around his complex computing system that made up his bodily autonomy.

Boothill wasn't someone to shy away from danger. He also wasn't the type to take impersonation kindly, apparently. And he would be in your office within moments if he didn't get sidetracked along the way.

You had just finished with a client, a young man with a severe case of mineral deficiency and fatigue when you heard chatter from the lobby area followed by doors slamming and the receptionist doing her best to keep the surprise visitor from making himself welcome in your office.

You sighed as the door was shoved open, a tall, seemingly slender man in a cowboy hat with ink-stained white hair stood in the doorway, the receptionist heaving from running after him.

"Put me in the bubble Doc, I need a rewire and a forkin' break after all the fun I've had to put up with. And make it hasty, yeah? My joints are achin' somethin' fierce. My dumbfork of a handgun jammed again and I can't be bothered to fix it myself. Doctors touch is magic, yeah?" Boothill grinned through sharp teeth, his gaze seemingly tender and kind even though you could see through the farce.

You gestured him to the back beyond the regular clinical area that was otherwise off-limits to other clients. You gave the receptionist an apologetic look and she nodded in understanding.

"I'll go ahead and reschedule your last appointment, they never called for a follow-up after their consultation so it wouldn't be a difficult phone call anyway." She said meekly.

"Thank you, Sandra, go ahead and close up for the day while you're at it. It's almost Happy Hour at the pub." You gave her a wink and Sandra beamed at your generosity, swift on her feet to close the door and make her way back to finish her tasks.

You turned around from the closed door, heaving a heavy sigh, and began to clean up the small area meant for regulars. Putting away the clipboard of patient notes and returning various basic med kit items to their designated shelves you tried not to think too much about the ongoing noise from the room further in. Opening a door labeled with "Off Limits to Staff and Patients" you took in the sight and crossed your arms.

Boothill sat in a chair, his hat and sache neatly placed on the side table as he was doing the initial work to disassemble his handgun, a literal firearm built into his left and right arms, a mechanical system that should be seamless if he took care of himself.

"You know, if you weren't so damn impatient and actually listened to me your body wouldn't be collapsing on itself." You said as you took over, grabbing his arm and adjusting the mechanical array of impressive technical work.

"Oh you wound me Doc. Why of course I listen to you, you're the only dang person on this shirt-stain of a planet with the intellect in both fancy doctorial business and technology with your uh, well whatever it is your title is anyway." He replied in earnest.

"I'm a general practice doctor, Boothill. And it just so happens, for your sorry ass anyway, that I used to work in the technological division of a certain organization we both choose to not acknowledge anymore. Now shut your mouth before I reset your vocal system as well."

"Oh Doc, you wouldn't do that. You're too kind to this rusty son-of-a-nice-lady. How have you been in the time since I've last been here? If I may add, your office looks like some real cow shirt."

You shot him a look without raising your head, garnering a light laugh from the Galaxy Ranger. As robotic as his appearance may be, his actions and personality were more human than some. He was still humble, if not a bit brash. There was a kindness to him beneath all the metal and bullet cases.

"Why the rush into the bubble? Didn't get enough rest in Penacony? You were there for a long while." You carefully placed the removed pistol onto the counter opposite where Boothill sat and began to look through drawers for wool and lubricant.

"I don't even know where to begin with that fork-fest. The lady who was impersonating me wound up being on the same dang team, call that a forkin' surprise, yeah? Aye, that there lube better not be generic, I ain't no simpleton."

You rolled your eyes as you uncapped the lubricant spray and doused the pistol evenly all over. "You know better than to question me Boothill, I'm the one who patches you up and cleans up your mess. And from the looks of it, you got rust building around the gears where your arm receptors patch in. Why haven't you been here sooner for maintenance? Slept like a baby in Penacony?"

Boothill sighed and leaned back in his seat, looking down at his disassembled arm. "Truth is Doc, I ain't been all that honest with ya. The Penacony trip was two years ago, whole mess that fork-fest was. But I got the dang fella who decimated my home, got the closure I needed to move on. But I ain't feel complete yet, like somethin' is missin' and I haven't found it. I've seen and done so many damn things but it ain't enough."

You sighed and sat on a stool and rolled the seat up to his side, taking his other arm and examining where the arm met the elbow. "You got your revenge that you've been so desperate to get, but you haven't thought about the after Boothill. You never think that far ahead either way."

"Oh well ain't you a smart-butt. I do have a plan."

"Yeah?"

"Fork yeah!"

"Tell me about this plan then."

"I... Well... I just-"

"For fucks sake Boothill, going around the cosmos and killing bad guys like some superhero isn't a plan!"

"Yes the fork it is!"

You dropped his arm and shot him a look. "No, it's not. You're not getting any younger Boothill. You need to move on. You need to retire, focus on preserving whatever humanity you have, and move on. The cosmos have their heroes, the new generation of Rangers are doing fine, the Nameless are doing fine."

"There are kids out there that need saving!" Boothill shouted, his hands balled into fists. "Families need help, children need homes, the forkin' IPC ain't doin' anybody any favors. We wouldn't be here if the world was such a fine and dandy place, Doc."

You knew firsthand that the topic of family and survival was a touchy subject for him. "You can't save everybody Boothill, try as you might, you'll just get yourself killed. If not from bullets then by fatigue. Whose gonna save you when you're down?"

"You, Doc." He forced a toothy grin and you couldn't help but chuckle. You took his elbow again, noting the small build-up of rust and worn-down metal where the joints connect. You've tried and failed many times to get Boothill to retire the badge, to relax and accept what life has dealt not just him, but countless others. He was more stubborn than a mule, and trying to convince him otherwise was like talking to a wall.

"You really wanna get in the bubble?" You asked him blankly.

"I got sand all in and around my joints and my wiring got stiff. I can't taste my liquor and my sense of smell is all over the place. Format me, Doc."

You rolled your eyes and got up, making your way to a pod-like capsule that connected to various parts of the ceiling. Its machinery and cable management were tidy, something you made sure of when Boothill came down to visit for maintenance. You took a wired tablet from the slot near the pod and began to swipe through menus, preparing the system for a routine maintenance.

He got up and began to undress the attire he typically had on, pilling it by his hat and sache before stepping inside the pod. His arms and legs slotted into their designated spots and he took a deep breath.

"I improved the system handling while you were gone. The removal process should go smoothly so you'll barely feel a thing." You spoke over the hum of the awakened capsule, its server coming alive as the pod lights flickered on and Boothill was immersed in a soft blue light.

"I sure as hell hope so, Doc." He rested his head back and closed his eyes. Four robot claws drew down from the top of the pod as the transparent door closed. You watched from outside as the four-pronged hands began to remove Boothills arms and legs, careful actions that closely mimicked your own. You heard a chuckle from the pod and glanced up at the only visible human feature Boothill had.

"I'll be damned Doc, this piece of short is smoother than last time. Dare I say better than your fancy hands!" He let out a hearty laugh that you couldn't help but smile at.

"It's been three years, I've had a lot of time to get this thing up to your bougie standards. Once your limbs are off it'll automatically get into cleaning your systems. You'll be out in less than an hour."

"The fork you callin' bougie?"

Writing is hard but Hoolay is harder. Jkjk... I had this in the drafts since June and now that 2.7 is coming up I figured I'd dabble in finding some sorta conclusion. Who knows how long this'll be, but I hope y'all like it!