#work has been so chaotic that I'm struggling to upload chapters when I want AHHH

[cyberneticfallout]

Chapter Nine: Wouldn't It Be Nice

Ch 1 - Ch 2 - Ch 3 - Ch 4 - Ch 5 - Ch 6 - Ch 7 - Ch 8 - Ch 9 - Ch 10 - More Coming Soon

Pairing: Cooper Howard/The Ghoul x Fem!Reader Summary: Tensions run high after the previous night's kiss and The Ghoul reveals a small part of his past. Tags: Slow burn (and I mean SLOWWW), angst, eventually more smut, language, canon-typical violence, chem/alcohol use, more tags will be added Posted on AO3: Smoothie and The Ghoul Word Count: 1.7k

The journey to the old associate is a lengthy one, likely spanning a few days at the very least. The landscape is mostly desolate, with sand dunes engulfing the remnants of old-world buildings. The memory of the previous night's kiss lingers heavily in your mind, leaving you curious about The Ghoul's thoughts on the matter. You resist the urge to ask. Instead you decide to keep your distance from him and look at your pip-boy to distract yourself. Focusing on the device, you navigate through its functions until you locate the radio feature, tuning in to some classic tunes from the past that fill the air.

As the familiar lyrics of “Orange Colored Sky” by Nat King Cole fill the air, you find yourself lost in the nostalgic melody. The rhythmic beat of the song creates a sense of comfort amidst the desolation. The radio crackles and the signal fades momentarily, but you manage to catch the few lines of the song before it returns to full clarity.

Slowing his stride, The Ghoul positions himself next to you. You sneak a glance in his direction, but his expression remains an enigma, offering no insight into his thoughts. However, he begins to hum along with the tune, his voice blending with yours in a harmonious duet. You can't help but wonder what would it be like to sway to the music in his arms. A faint smile tugs at your lips at the thought.

The two of you continue like this for some time, singing softly to the old tunes that fill the air. After a while, he extends a piece of jerky from his bag to you. Gratefully, you accept and savor a big bite. The flavor is unfamiliar, yet surprisingly delicious.

"What type of jerky is this?" you ask.

"Ass jerky.”

"Alright," you giggle, "The ass of what? I don't think I've had this kind before."

"Ghoul," he states plainly.

You burst out laughing at what you assume is a joke, only to realize it's not when he stares back at you blankly, munching on his own piece of jerky.

"...What."

Staring at The Ghoul in disbelief, the realization hits you like a ton of bricks. His stoic expression adds to the surreal nature of the moment, and as the truth sinks in, a wave of nausea washes over you. You start gagging uncontrollably, unable to contain your revulsion at the thought of consuming human flesh. His reaction surprises you as he bursts into laughter at your discomfort, his amusement contrasting sharply with your horror.

"Are you out of your fucking mind?!" you shout, your voice filled with disgust as you dry heave. "Oh my god. It was that dead ghoul I came across, wasn't it?"

"Soundin' like that vaultie," The Ghoul chuckles.

"Not all us vault dwellers come out that naive," you mutter quietly, the words barely audible to him.

"What'd you say?" he questions, eyeing you suspiciously.

"Hm? Nothing," you quickly reply, trying to brush off the tension. The Ghoul's skeptical gaze lingers on you, and without a second thought, you fling the remaining jerky at his face. The dried meat slaps against his cheek with a thud, slowly sliding down his face and plopping onto the dusty ground. The silence that follows is heavy as “Wouldn’t It Be Nice” by The Beach Boys suddenly starts blaring from your pip-boy.

♪ Wouldn't it be nice to live together in the kind of world where we belong? ♪

"Pick it up," he finally breaks the silence.

You raise an eyebrow, "Excuse me?"

"You heard me, Smoothie," he says, taking a step closer to you. "We ain't wastin’ good jerky just because you're too dainty. Pick… it… up."

Your eyes meet his in a fierce stare, both of you mirroring the intensity. Closing the distance between you, you stand almost nose to nose. As you gaze up at him, you notice the anger in his eyes, but you also catch a glimpse of Cooper Howard peeking through.

♪ After having spent the day together, hold each other close the whole night through ♪

"If you want to watch me bend over that badly, all you have to do is ask," you quip, a playful glint in your eye.

"Two choices, sweetheart,” The Ghoul's voice takes on a dark and gravelly tone. "Either you pick it up like a good girl, or I make you pick it up - and I won't be gentle."

Good girl. You muster all your strength to resist cracking under those words, a smug grin spreading across his face. In that moment, you can't help but wonder if he's being playful or if this is just his usual, asshole self shining through. After all, he has no shame when it comes to this shit.

♪ I wish that every kiss was never-ending ♪

Your mind races for a witty response, the lyrics of the song only adding to the awkward tension between you. His eyes bore into yours, a mix of challenge and arrogance that makes your skin crawl. With a defiant tilt of your chin, you sarcastically remark, "You better be prepared to catch me when I swoon from your overwhelming charm."

The Ghoul's smirk widens, a flash of malice glinting in his eyes as he replies, "Oh sweetie, I don't catch… I watch you fall.“

♪ You know it seems the more we talk about it, it only makes it worse to live without it ♪

As you crouch down to retrieve the jerky, a mix of resentment and anger swirls inside you. The act of picking up the tainted piece of meat feels like a bitter concession, a silent acknowledgment of the power play he has initiated. Standing back up, you hold out the jerky towards him, your gaze hardened with a mix of defiance and humiliation.

The Ghoul plucks the jerky from your hand with a satisfied smirk, relishing the control he holds over the situation. The tension between you crackles with unspoken words and unspoken desires, each gesture and exchange charged with a potent mix of attraction and power dynamics.

The tension between you lingers like a heavy fog as you trudge forward in uncomfortable silence, the music from your pip-boy serving as a strange soundtrack to the awkwardness that envelops you. With the sun sinking towards the horizon, long shadows stretching across the landscape, a sense of unease settles in your chest like a heavy weight.

As darkness descends, a canopy of stars twinkling overhead, The Ghoul's voice breaks the silence, his tone devoid of the earlier hostility. "We'll set camp here for the night. Keep watch while I get a fire going," he instructs, his words cutting through like a knife. You nod stiffly, grateful for the chance to have some space between you.

Sitting by the crackling fire, you wrap your arms around your knees, staring into the flames. The Ghoul settles across from you, his eyes fixed on the fire as well. After a moment of comfortable silence, you finally speak, your voice soft in the night air. "What did you mean the other day when you said you remembered Moldaver differently?"

His gaze shifts from the fire to meet yours, taking a moment to consider your question before answering, “I knew her as Miss Williams.”

“Miss Williams?” Curiosity fills you.

“I met her. Before the war,” he continues, “Which makes me curious as to how she’s still around.”

You ponder for a moment, lost in thought. "Seems like prewar folks are more common than I thought..."

"Oh yeah?" The Ghoul laughs. "You know a lot of 'em or somethin’?"

You chuckle softly at his question. "No, no," you reply, shaking your head slightly. "I just didn't think many people made it this far - ghoul or otherwise. Say... What's something you miss from before the Great War?"

“My daughter.” He answers immediately. His voice is soft, almost a whisper, filled with sadness and longing. The firelight dances across his face, casting shadows that seem to echo the weight of his words. You’re surprised he’s shared something so personal - he had a daughter?

"What is her name?" You ask gently, making sure to refer to her in the present tense, not wanting to add to the sting of her possible death.

He hesitates, his demeanor softening slightly as he considers your question. After a moment, he quietly responds, "Janey."

You rise from your spot and walk over to him, settling down next to him by the crackling fire. "Is that who Sorrel was referring to? Who you've been looking for?" you ask, your voice filled with genuine curiosity.

"Yes," he sighs, his voice heavy with weariness. Despite his usual guarded nature, there is a sense of trust that begins to form between you. "I've been lookin' for over 200 years and ain't found shit. No leads. Until now.”

"Moldaver," you whisper, your voice barely above a breath. "Do you think she knows something? Being prewar and all?"

He locks eyes with you, a subtle look of uncertainty in his eyes. "Thats what I aim to find out, Smoothie.”

"Well shit," you say, taking a deep breath before gently placing your hand on top of his. "We'll find your daughter. We'll find Janey, no matter what it takes."

He looks at you with soft eyes, as if no one ever truly wants to help him. Maybe it makes him question your intentions, wondering if you might be deceitful. After all, he knows nothing about you or your past. Will you ever tell him who you really are? Why do you even care so much about him? He flinches slightly at your touch and swats your hand away, a reflex you assume is born of decades upon decades of betrayal and disappointment.

“Sorry,” you mumble as you head back to your spot across from him. “I’m serious though. I will help you find her.”

The Ghoul grimaces and turns his back to you, his posture defensive and closed off. You sense a deep well of pain and longing within him, a father's desperate hope to be reunited with his daughter. Sitting in silence, you give him the space he seems to need to process your offer of help. After a few moments, he finally speaks, his voice rough with emotion.

"I appreciate the offer," he begins. "But this is somethin' I must do alone."

"We'll see about that," you respond, a steely determination in your voice. He gives you a look of annoyance, but you refuse to let him face this alone. This is no longer just a bounty to collect; it is so much more.

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