falloutkinkmeme_backup | Fallout Kink Meme Part IV: Closed to prompts, open for fills.

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Fallout Kink Meme Part IV: Closed to prompts, open for fills.

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"Charlie. It's dawn. Time to get up." Boone lets out an impatient breath as she remains completely inert. She's normally up before he is; the rustling snap of brush breaking as she thrashes herself free is becoming his regular wakeup call. This morning, it seems she's out as hard as the sodden mess of Cass. He's seen drinkers like her before, and wouldn't be surprised if it takes a gunshot to get her moving.

Not wanting to startle her too bad, he nudges gently at Charlie's calf. "C'mon, wakey wa-!" He drops like a stone as her legs suddenly shoot out to either side of his, scissoring in a hard twist. Both of his hands are around hers a second later, keeping the knife she's holding a bare inch from his chest as she writhes on top of him, her knees pummeling into his thighs like hammers as she tries to ram them into his groin. Boone looks at her face, meaning to curse her out for whatever bullshit lunacy she's trying to pull, and starts to yell instead. Her eyes are completely blank and unseeing, the pupils so wide he can see a perfect picture of his own face shouting back at him. "Charlie!"

She hisses in response. "Voldta toro profan søppel."

He tries to pick something recognizable out of it, but it's nothing but gibberish to him, and the knife creeps closer. Whatever she's seeing, it's not him, and whoever she is right now is older than the name he's hung on her.

"Courier!"

Older than the name she showed up with. She misses smashing in one of his testicles by a bare quarter-inch.

"Profanatore!"

He belts out one last name, the only one he's got left, the only one he's got time to give. The next deep breath will take the blade into his chest. "Boone! I'M BOONE!"

A slow blink, and suddenly she's off him, one arm resting over her upraised knee, the hand clenched around the knife propping her up in the dirt as she pants, finally aware as well as awake. He scrambles up at the same time, backing away. "What the fuck was that about?"

"Don't touch me when I'm sleeping. Should have warned you. Doesn't go well. Half the reason I bed down in a thicket."
"Not good enough, Charlie."

She coughs and spits, her voice hoarse. "I don't ask you about your bad memories. You don't ask me about mine. Next time just yell harder, or poke me with a stick or just throw a dang rock, anything. Hell, piss on me first."

Boone crosses his arms, angry suspicion joining the adrenaline and sick worry. "What memories? Thought you didn't have any, past a week or so before I hooked up with you. What you said about losing them, not remembering the-" She snaps and cuts him off.

"I say a lot of things." She lets out a long sigh through her nose, giving him a steady, resigned look. "Everyone assumes that when I say I've got amnesia, it's the whole kit n' kaboodle, all of myself, but I can remember just about everything, except some of the particulars surrounding my death, some other bits and pieces. But it's easier to get by if people think you're a blank slate. No history, no baggage, and a whole lot of sympathy." Charlie glances down, then off into the distance. "I prefer it."

"So just who the hell are you, then. Just who the fuck have I been hanging my ass out to dry with this whole time."

As ever, Charlie seemingly pays no attention to the acid laced into his tone. "Who was I, you mean. Doesn't matter. I died. Should have stayed snug in the hole that checkerboarded whoremaster put me into. The joke of it is, I don't even remember that fool robot pulling me out. Maybe I'd feel alive if I did. All I do remember is the dirt hitting me, and the taste of sand in my mouth. It felt like my whole head was nothing but a bag of sand, and it was pouring out of my forehead to cover me up, and now everything is sideways when I look at it, like I'm half out of step."

She raises her hands in a helpless gesture that is completely out of place on her, staring up at him. "I wish you had killed me instead, you'dve done it right, you would've, wouldn't y-" The beseeching look on her face falls off immediately at the expression on his, and she turns abruptly, grabbing up her hat and almost fleeing away from him. "I need to get Cass moving. This conversation didn't happen. Please don't touch me to wake me up again, Boone. I'd be much obliged."

:D :D :D Very glad I stumbled across this. I love the way you write. I love the way Charlie and Boone interact.

Thanks anon!

Oh, please don't stop there, Anon! I love Charlie and Boone, and would absolutely squee to see more!

*sheepish* Pretty please?

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Fallout Kink Meme Part IV: Closed to prompts, open for fills.

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