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justplainlovely · 3 months ago

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“Feelin’ better, sweetheart?”

Based on a season 2 idea by @faembrosia. This did not turn out how I expected at all, but I enjoyed writing it anyway! Will probably become part of a longer fic in the future, paired with another idea I saw on here that I already have an outline for. Let me know if you like it and if you do I’d be happy to continue.

After leaving the observatory, Cooper decides that Lucy needs to break. He’s been there before and it’s better she do it now than on the trail with the most dangerous critters in the wasteland.

Cooper "The Ghoul" Howard x Lucy MacLean.

WARNINGS: Swearing, violence, blood lust

Count: 4,696 words

Cooper books it on the old 210, Dogmeat trotting along like the faithful canine she is... well, maybe not faithful. She stops every few minutes now to whine at the person taking up the rear. Behind him, the vaultie huffs and puffs as the sun begins to set. Useless smoothskins. Can't keep up for shit. Especially no okie-dokie-ass vault dweller.

They moved nonstop from the Griffith at the crack of dawn. They had to. Coop was more preoccupied with tryin' to get away from the Brotherhood of Steel than he was in worrying about the current stamina of the woman a few paces behind him. It was his fault, of course, for mercing every one of them tin-can soldier boys and he knew they wouldn't take too kindly to anyone taking out their "well-protected", T-60-wearing knights, much less a ghoul. Much less the Ghoul. He grinned at the thought, imagining the mess that'd ensue if they did find him. Some sick part of him wished they would just for the thrill of a fight. Unfortunately, his ammo supply was cut in half during the shootout. He would have stocked up with what was leftover of the NCR’s stockpile, but timing necessitated a quick departure.

As he walks, Cooper's mind drifts back to his own struggles. He remembers the pain of his transformation, the loss of his daughter, and the desperate measures he took to survive. The memory of his cremello stallion, Sugarfoot, and the harsh decision took to end its life still lingered, a burning reminder of the rad-riddled earth he stalks.

He recalled escaping with his daughter on the horse, wrapping Janey's mouth and nose with the yellow handkerchief around his neck in the hopes that it would keep the particles away from her. That bomb was so close, and if protecting her was his one mistake, then he was happy to make it. He would make it again if it meant saving her from his fate. Of course, those times had worse pains than the idea of her succumbing. Being ripped away from her, being blocked from the Vault-Tec doors as his sweet baby girl shouted for her daddy, as she begged her mommy, was possibly the single worst heartbreaking moment of his life.

Cooper jolts to the present when he notices, out of the corner of his eye, that Lucy is now struggling to keep up. Her pace is slowing, and he can see the strain on her face as the sun dips lower into the sky. They were getting close enough, now, to Big Dalton Canyon and he knew those Brotherhood men wouldn't trek out this far. The array of radiated critters alone was enough to keep them at bay… radiated. Watching Lucy struggle with the rads was an aching reminder his own curse.

“Sir?"

Cooper's reverie is broken by Lucy's weak voice. He sighs and turns to face her.

"Sir... can we... can we stop... please… I’m…" she pauses, staring at him like a deer caught in the headlights. She should be right to look at him that way. Perhaps he had finally killed that too-trusting, too-green, sweet-as-pie thing she had going on. Then again… wasn’t that why he invited her along?

“I can’t…” she panted, “I..."

Cooper surveys the perimeter, spotting the tin roof of what was an old fire station just outside the trail. He looks back to the young woman, a sickly sheen across her forehead and the whites of her eyes bloodshot. He had been sharing with her whatever water and food he had, but the rads in the water were no doubt doing a number on her. It was why he didn't let her have much of it. He has exactly two bags of RadAway on him and they’ll likely need to use one before her symptoms get any worse.

“Havin’ trouble keepin’ up, huh?” he says with a stupid smirk as he moves into her space.

Lucy frowns and shakes her head, "Sorry, sir. I... I know you're in a hurry... we're in a hurry... but... I…"

Before she can completely fall, Cooper moves fast and catches her by the waist. Dogmeat whines, licking Lucy's limp hand and sniffing the air for trouble. The shepard looks up at Cooper with those big ol’ puppy dog eyes.

“The fuck you lookin’ at me for? Scan.”

The dog immediately goes to work, her nose pressed to the ground as she scans the area for any signs of life. She barks and wags her tail, ears perked up, which he takes as a good sign. As he adjusts the vault dweller into his arms, he considers continuing further up the trail. The last time he traveled out this way there was a shack not far, perhaps 10 miles, from the mouth of Big Dalton. He can make it, for sure, but can she? Maybe. Only maybe. The risky part of going back down to the fire station’s the sheer size of the building. Anyone could be in there and it wouldn’t be smart for him to get ambushed while carrying 130-pound, radsick baggage. He sighs.

“C’mon, Dogmeat.”

The dog lopes alongside him as he heads for the shack. Sure it’ll be a journey, but it beats the possibility of whatever could be there. Rad sickness be damned. He isn’t gonna get held up when he’s gotten this far. When he’s so close to the possibility of seeing his little girl again. He knows, staring down at the vault dweller in his arms as he goes deeper into the trail, that this is what Janey would want. What Barb would’ve done… if he knew her like he thought he did.

Though he dares not admit it aloud, he has a great deal of respect for the young woman he carries. Giving him those vials back at the Super Duper Mart when she so easily, and so justly, coulda shot his ass on sight and left him in the dirt in his puddle of drool and blood… she was not pretending when she professed the golden rule. And although it would get her into all kinds of trouble out here, does get her into all kinds of trouble out here, it’s almost a comfort to know that things aren’t completely lost. That some of the good from the old world still survives in her, even if it had vanished from everyone else.

────୨ৎ────

Lucy starts awake, her eyelids heavy as she registers her surroundings. She feels incredibly dizzy as it all floods back to her; the observatory, the murderous Hank MacLean, the Ghoul standing in the setting sun, Maximus on the ground, made unconscious by her father’s hand. The radiation sickness is enough, but she feels sick all over again just thinking about it. She had never felt so useless before. It wasn’t her thing. Back home, she was an enthusiastic, hard-working community member with a dedication to team building and tenacity that put even the oldest vault dwellers to shame. She was lauded, applauded - confident, intelligent, and kind.

Up here, on the surface, these things mattered little and she found that out the hard way. Many times. She had several near-death experiences; fiends, ghouls, radroaches. She was also used as bait, had her finger cut off, was tied up and lassoed like an animal, and was sold to an organ dealership, all by the man… ghoul she was currently traveling with. Was she stupid for following him? For trusting again? Some part of her knows he’s right.

Max’s friend Thaddeus had said that the Brotherhood of Steel was a “complicated organization”. By surface standards, she took that to mean that they were willing to do anything for their mission and, not knowing herself exactly what that mission was, she wasn’t so keen on finding out what would happen if she stayed behind. Part of her also wonders what her company had to say about her father. What unsettling secrets will come to light when he decides she’s ready to hear the information.

At least when she travels with the Ghoul she has an idea of what to expect. Cruelty, snide remarks, sarcasm, belittling. But also honesty. He had never lied to her, at least, and that could be said for something. Her whole life had been a lie up until that point. But even though she has this, she still feels hollow.

She blinks rapidly when she hears the tiny screech of a critter, probably a roach, outside that brings her back to reality. A pinch in her arm that she looks down to follow to a drip bag of RadAway, a cough outside before she hears his inhaler puff. She peeks through the door of what she assesses as some kind of shack she sits in, a twin bed crammed in the corner with a rusted-out sink, no doubt useless, right beside it. Just outside the door, she sees the Ghoul toss a radroach into a battered can that sits in the middle of a fire he’d stoked. Lucy tries to get up from the bed, only for her foot to wobble underneath the weight of her leg. She falls back down, her eyes fluttering shut angrily, “Fudge…”

She wishes she could get up and help - prove herself, distract herself - but her legs are as strong as a fresh jello cake and she knows getting up would only cause more fuss. Better let him focus, as he had already wasted enough time taking care of her.

The sweet shepherd scampers into the shack and sniffs at her RadAway drip sight, panting and whining happily when she realizes she’s okay. Lucy involuntarily smiles when the dog rests her head on her thigh and she gives the dog, which he called Dogmeat - an ugly name if she said so herself - a gentle pat on the head.

Speak of the devil and he shall appear. The Ghoul opens the door fully and eyes her with that curious tilt she was all too accustomed to. However, she can’t quite tell if he’s studying her, mocking her, or trying to measure her up for dinner in case she gets sick again. She figures it best not to dwell on the “what-ifs” of this particular scenario.

“Thank you.” She whispers.

He raises a non existent eyebrow at her statement before taking another few steps forward. Dogmeat retreats to the other side of the shack, where a decrepit rocking chair sits on the other side of the rusted out sink, while the Ghoul lifts up the RadAway bag to inspect it, “Don’t mention it, darlin’.”

It’s almost empty, about a quarter of the way, when he decides she’s had enough and not so gently pulls the needle out of her forearm.

“Ow!” She winces at the pressure and yanks her arm away.

He smirks as she moves her hand to the hem of her tank, tucked below the top of her vault suit which had been tied at her waist, and tears off a strip. She ties it around her arm to cut the bleeding, all the while avoiding his eyes.

“Gotta ration these,” he says, lifting the RadAway bag, “It’ll be a few days 'fore we get to the nearest settlement. I ain’t got no real use for 'em, obviously. Woulda sold 'em, had ya stayed with yer lil white knight. Didn’t expect you’d be foolhardy enough to come with.”

Lucy scoffs, “You know… I didn’t exactly follow you for your astounding moral character or anything, so you can just…” she stops, thinking better of it.

She wants to dig into him, to ‘tear him a new one’ as he might do to her, but stops herself. Her upbringing prevents her from that kind of vulgarity. Better yet, it’s best not to anger him when he so clearly holds the reigns in this situation. He could have easily left her to fend for herself after she fainted and she’s honestly not sure why he’d even bother to take care of her. She shakes her head in dismissal.

“‘I can just’ what, darlin’? C’mon now. Y’ain’t said much of nothin’ since we left the Griffith. Go ahead. I’m all ears.”

She has many questions. So many. How does you know my father? How can you track down people like this when there’s little physical evidence of them? You're looking for a family - how did you lose them if you're so good at this? When exactly did you turn into… what you are? Why are you such a son of a biscuit? Why does you look so familiar? He must decide that she takes too long, because then he brushes her off with one of his little grunts.

“Well,” he shrugs with a clap of his gloved hands, “the rad roach’ll be ready in a jiff. I usually don’t bother roastin’ ‘em, but with your smoothskin stomach ’n’ all… can’t be too careful.”

Lucy watches as he steps back outside and while she is not looking forward to their rad roach dinner she knows it beats the alternative. She noticed earlier he still had some of that “ass jerky” left and would rather nom the radiated soil on the ground than stoop to cannibalism. She’s not him yet. Not if she has anything to say about it. Though, the more she dwells on her vault upbringing, the more she thinks about her father and about what she told Max, the more she questions whether her vault’s existence, whether Reclamation Day, was a sham to begin with. And if it was, if it is… then what does that all mean for her? What does it leave her with?

She doesn’t want to think about it. Doesn’t want to become emotional on top of being the useless “vaultie" the Ghoul no doubt thinks she is. Lucy takes one cautious step off the earthy-smelling bed, Dogmeat crawls to her side from the other corner of the shack. The canine whines up at her and she gently scratches her behind the ears, earning a thump from her hind leg.

“Aww,” Lucy coos, “Do you like that, sweet canis familiaris?”

“Fuck kinda nerd speak is that?” Lucy turns her head to see him offering her a skewer stacked with meat. She cautiously accepts the offer, “‘Canis familiaris’"… Why, darlin’, were you some kinda scientist down in them vaults?”

He takes a big bite of his meat and she blearily looks down at hers.

Lucy scoffs, “I was a history teacher, thank you very much,” she takes a wary bite of the rad roach meat, grimacing when the robust, sticky taste hits her all at once, “All vault dwellers are given a thorough education of all subjects.”

He grunts, taking another bite of his roach flesh and tossing a piece to Dogmeat, who hungrily laps it up. Lucy’s tempted to throw her whole skewer down to the dog, but decides against it. The food will, hopefully, help to ease her stomach. Hopefully keep her occupied enough that she won’t think of all that she’s been through. That she won’t have to speak too much to the ghoul across from her and risk her already fragile grasp on sanity. He’s proven thus far to be an absolutely frustrating travel companion, if she could even call him such a thing. He was more like a reluctant guide.

And yet...

“Sweetheart?” he sing-speaks, breaking through her reverie, “Ya just gonna stare through me like that, or are ya gonna finish your meat?”

Lucy shakes her head. “Here,” she says, holding out the skewer, “I’m not that hungry, anyway.”

The Ghoul glances down at her hand, then her eyes, before reaching out and taking back the flesh he’d procured. She felt bad for only eating half of it, she was thin enough as it was, but she simply couldn’t stomach another bite. It wasn’t the worst thing she had put in her mouth on the surface by far, but one more bite and all of it would be on the floor.

He drops the rest of her meat onto the ground where Dogmeat feasts. Lucy turns her eyes to avoid the sight, suddenly feeling more queasy than she already was. She hears him set the now empty skewers on a hook and, out of the corner of her eye, catches sight of his hand going to his belt buckle and scrambles for the corner.

“Relax, won’t ya? Just gonna go take care of that fire.”

He turns around and heads in the direction of the fire pit he’d crafted - putting it out, as he said. Perhaps he isn’t all bad. Gruff, crude, disgusting at times, but not completely evil. She hopes her assessment isn’t off, hopes that she’s not completely “foolhardy” in deciding to follow him, even if he is her best shot at her father. She suspects he invited her for a similar reason.

────୨ৎ────

The following days had Cooper trudging them further east. The first day had seen them making it up to Nealey’s Corner where they slept outside, taking shifts to watch the camp. He’d gone first, letting the girl get some rest. It seemed to be all she could do these days; fulfill the basic biological functions, as she might say. He understood well, better than anyone, probably, what she was currently going through. He went through much of the same with Barb when he heard her speak about the bombs, so casually suggesting in that Vault-Tec meeting with those morally bankrupt higher-ups that they drop them to ensure results. To guarantee that the end of the world was in their control. He remembered how cold he felt then and the rage that swallowed him up in the time following… and this little killer hadn’t even had her blow up yet. He’d have to make sure to fix that.

The second day was met with more silence. She stayed glued to his side, standing at attention only when the wasteland greeted them with vile little critters looking for a meal, mostly rad scorpions and serpents in these parts, but they would reach the Mojave outpost in another four days, the Long 15 in a little over two, and it was crucial that she get over whatever the fuck she was going through before they get to deathclaw territory. She could hold her own against the scorpions and serpents, sure, but what they were soon coming up against was another beast entirely that had even ghouls like him frightened out of their wits.

That night, they set up camp in what seemed a long-since abandoned mechanic’s shop outside Summit Terrace, miles ahead of the Long 15. They roasted some rad scorp meat for dinner as Dogmeat crunched on a radroach just outside their temporary shelter, tail swishing through the soil. Cooper put out the fire with a dirt kick just as Lucy had taken the skewers off the now extinguished pit. They ate in silence, the crunch of the dog gnawing on grubs the only sound cutting through. Cooper gnawed on a skewer absentmindedly, eyes flicking between Lucy and the darkened wasteland outside. Even the mutt seemed to sense the tension.

It had been too long like this—Lucy, silent and sullen, her gaze distant. She followed orders, killed when necessary, but something was off. Cooper could see it in the way her hands shook, how her eyes would glaze over whenever her ghosts crept up on her. The kid was slipping, losing her edge, and they were running out of time before deathclaw territory swallowed them whole. He wasn’t about to drag dead weight.

He takes another bite and eyes her, deciding it's time to poke the hornet's nest.

“Well, well, well. Looks like someone’s lost their fire,” he drawls, breaking the silence with a forced grin, “How's it hangin', lil’ Miss Sunshine? You done with your vow of silence yet?”

Lucy doesn’t respond. She just stares at the snuffed out fire pit, her eyes dim, the muscles in her jaw twitching.

Cooper scoffs, tossing his now empty skewer aside. “C’mon, kid,” he grins, “Where’s that Vault-Tec initiative? Y’ain’t gonna make it to the Long 15 like this. Didn’t ol’ daddy MacLean raise you better?”

Still nothing. Her fingers tighten around the skewer she's holding, but her eyes don’t lift.

The ghoul leans back against the rusted bench and smirks, stretching his legs out. “Ah, I see,” he says with a chuckle. “You're missin’ your knight in shinin’ armor. That it? Can’t handle this big ol’ world without someone holdin’ yer hand, huh? I bet he’d have a good laugh seein’ you like this.”

That got her. Lucy’s eyes flick up, a flash of fire in them, but she chews her cheek and says nothing. Cooper grins, sensing the crack in her armor.

“There y’are,” he says, his tone sharper. “Look at you. All that Vault-Tec trainin' and you could barely handle a few rad scorps.”

He leans forward, elbows resting on his knees, voice lowering. “'Haps you’re scared. Just a lil thing out of her depth... ’S’that it, sweetheart? Ya know I'd be happy to hold your hand...”

Her grip on the skewer tightens, knuckles going white. She still doesn’t speak, but Cooper can see the cracks multiplying. Good. He needed to push harder. Just one more—

“Or maybe…” he let the words drag out, his grin fading. “you’re afraid of becoming just like him. Destroying everything in your path, just like he did. Is that what’s eatin’ at ya, sugar? Are ya scared you’re turnin’ into him?”

The skewer snaps in her hand, and Lucy's on her feet, glaring at him with eyes full of rage.

“Shut up.”

“Now we’re talkin’!” Cooper cheers, his grin widening as he stands slowly, wiping dirt off his gloved hands. “Finally, that spunk! Tell me I’m wrong. Or better yet, show me.”

Lucy’s hands tremble at her sides, her breath coming fast, her face twisting in fury. “I said - be quiet!”

“You’re almost there,” Cooper taunts, stepping toward her. “Go ahead, pumpkin, let it out. We both know you need this. You’re angry, and that’s good. But if you don’t deal with it now, it’ll get ya killed. And I’m not going to let that happen.”

“Stop it!” Lucy’s voice cracks, and she shoves him hard in the chest. Cooper stumbles back but catches himself, laughing darkly.

“Yeehaw!” he shouted, stepping right back into her face. “You wanna fight? Then fight. Prove to me you’re more than a useless vaultie.”

That's all it takes. Lucy roars, tackling him to the ground, fists flying. Yes! Cooper quickly flips them over so she’s on her back, but it isn’t for long. She’s flexible, something he wasn’t aware of. She turns at the waist, legs wrap against his side, and she throws him off seamlessly. Lucy’s onto her feet and he grins, jumping up to his.

"Ooo…" Cooper tosses off the tattered remnants of his duster and grins, “Kitty got claws!”

She screams, pushing him back up against the rusted remains of an Oldsmobile. He unsheathes his hunting knife, not with the intent to use it, and grazes her collarbone, exercising the softest pressure. Dogmeat takes interest now, whining at the pair of them, but Cooper shoos her away with the wave of his hand.

The distraction is enough because Lucy has his knife and she's about ready to press down on his jugular, “How dare you suggest that I’m anything like him! I could… I could never do something like that!”

“Oh, no?” He says with a smirk, swatting the knife from her hand, “Maybe I haven’t pushed ya hard enough yet.”

Cooper shoves her off of him, backing her up against the bench. Lucy shouts and kicks him in the chest, he stumbles backward. She rushes for his knife again, but he’s faster and he tumbles her to the ground. She yelps as her back hits the sand-covered pavement, nicking the side of her head slightly, drawing a little bit of blood, and that’s when the rage festers in her pretty, doe eyes.

Lucy goes for the same move, her hips writhing to the side this time to be met with his thighs squeezing her like a vice. Panting, she wraps her arms around his neck and pushes as hard as she can. It’s not enough to move him, but it’s enough to catch him off guard and she slips out from underneath him, back onto her feet again. She steps on his back with one booted foot and stares down at him. He would be lying if he said he wasn’t at least a little turned on by this point.

“Well, sweetie, I guess ya got me.”

She smirks something evil and that’s when he springs to action again. Cooper yanks her calf, sending her on a forward tumble and into the sexiest floor routine he’s ever seen. She sticks her landing and turns around, the fire still in her eyes.

“Gotta say, kid,” he spits, “you got spirit.”

“Fuck you!”

She rushes him and he takes in her posture, slightly off balance on her right leg, her left arm coming in for a punch, and he quickly sweeps his foot, knocking her onto her side. She whimpers, but before she can get back up he surrounds her again. Another miscalculation, she’s right next to his discarded hunting knife and she grabs it from the ground, pressing it against his throat.

“What if I did it, huh? Would you stitch back up just like those other ghouls?”

“I dunno, sugar. Ya got the gumption to find out?”

She presses slightly, drawing some blood, but he moves fast, yanking her arm aside and curling her up. Lucy breaks free again, bounding away from him with the knife. Cooper moves in a fluid motion, knocking her slightly off balance with a kick of his boot, taking his knife back, and sheathing the weapon. She growls and he finds himself with his back up against the Oldsmobile again, his smile widening as she wraps her hands around his neck. He lets himself relish what’s become of her. He’s responsible for this, at least a little, and it feels good knowing she’s finally exhibiting that potential. That she’s embracing the little killer she could be in these wastes.

Cooper doesn’t let her go too far, though. He sees the exhaustion in her movements, the way her blows lack the bite they had before. The flame is flickering out. He takes advantage, sweeping her leg out from under her and sending her tumbling hard against the opposite wall.

She tries to fight back, but the fight is drained out of her. Her eyelids flutter with the weight of it all—adrenaline running dry, muscles no doubt aching, and her mind cracking under the pressure of all that had happened. Cooper pins her against the wall, not too rough, but firm enough to make her understand that the game is over. They are done here.

She glares up at him, defiant, hazel eyes smoldering, refusing to give in. Her breath comes in quick, shallow bursts and their mouths are close enough that he can feel her warmth ghosting over his face, close enough to share the same air as it brushes up to the cavity in his face where his nose used to be. He schools his expression, tired himself by the time they wrap up.

As he looks into her eyes, something shifts inside him. He sees the same desperation and pain he had felt so many times before. The same fear of losing everything. He holds her there a moment, the only sound the now quiet breathing between them.

“Feelin’ better, sweetheart?” He asks, his voice barely above a whisper.

Tears. Silent, at first. Then they come in waves, rolling down her cheeks. Cooper loosens his grip on her wrists. His face softens further, and he gently helps her stand up, supporting her as she sways. He had seen this kind of breakdown before. Hell, he’d had his own more times than he cared to count. She needed this. He needed to be there for it. He’d wished someone had been there for his.

#ghoulcy #cooper howard #lucy maclean #fallout #the ghoul #fanfiction #fight scene #cooper x lucy #not all canned peaches and marmalade

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