"Not fair-- that first time was all you. The worst thing I was was hammered." And malnourished, and sick with withdrawal, but those were really semantics. In the Devil's mind, if he didn't actively have a bullet in him it wasn't serious.

And evidently he didn't think this was serious in how he angled his chin up with a smile like he was expecting a kiss on the forehead. "Not too much," the merc answered with a shrug. "It'll straighten up soon. I-- ow-!"

The water hit the open wound in his head, washing the blood away. Devil flinched angrily, the smile wiped off his face.

Oh hush, this was the least painful part.

Bev kept that much to herself, though, instead easing the pressure she'd pressed against his head. Wiped the blood and mess away a little softer, not without sucking her teeth in response.

"You've been hit worse, I bet." She spoke lowly, any bite completely gone from her voice and now slipping into some semblance of bedside manner. More so, staying relatively quiet so this back and forth simmered down.

"Nothing we're not used to."

Surprisingly her answer drew a laugh out of him-- but maybe that was just being dazed enough from getting clubbed on the head to start finding her funnier.

When they stopped, he dropped heavily onto the nearest bench. The cloth he'd been using to staunch the bleeding was now soaked in his blood, a sight that drew a slight grimace out of him with his next chuckle.

"Alright, Bevvy. Doctor me."

Bevvy. Good God-

"This is now twice that I've had to put you back together." Please- Like he'd be the first person shed patched up more than once. Although lately she was more used to Charon grunting and waving her off before popping a shoulder back into place, or Dogmeat yelping through Stimpack shots.

She dropped her pack onto the nearest table, and rummaged through the contents. Gauze to pack the wound, half a bottle of purified water to wipe the mess away. Good enough for now. "Is the room spinning at all?"

In truth, Aaron was nothing but surprised at the bitterness that crawled up his throat, threatening to block off his airway as nearly a decade of rampant thoughts broke out over him like irradiated water from a bombed out dam.

Where had she been? For nineteen years of his life, Aaron had been nothing if not a rock for his sister. He’d been the more resilient of the two in many ways, taking to the wasteland somewhat like a fish took to water, and through all of the horror and hardship, he had been there for Beverly. Then she had left. She had not been there for him during the war, she had not been there for him in the aftermath of the Pitt, she had not been there for him when Sarah died and he was left with the weight of the world on his shoulders alone.

All these thoughts and more were analyzed, excised, and discarded with the feeling the man soon came to realize was disgust. Disgust at himself, at the childishness and selfishness of these thoughts. There had been ten years of reflection on why exactly Bev had done what she did. Why she left. Aaron had long accepted that, and any remnant anger he felt was surely the result of the repression of having no one to share the immense weight of his station and title.

She’d had hardships of her own. Was she standing there and blaming her woes on her absent brother? Surely not, and he had no right to make her the object of his frustration.

He leaned back against the wall again, his head dropping as he noticed the trembling of the redheads hands as she tended to the dishes. He wondered if this had always been there, if below the surface she had always been in fear of him in some small way. Or if this was just the result of the wasteland, the wedge it had driven between them as it transformed them against their wills.

“You have nothing to be sorry for. My woes are hardly your doing.” He was slipping into more formal speech, the kind he used for diplomatic meetings, and he raged and despaired and loathed that he could not stop himself from doing so. “The Brotherhood has brought peace, stability, and plenty. Everything our father ever wanted for the wastes is becoming reality, and everyone I have ever wanted to share it with is dead, save for my daughter. It has been difficult.”

"For Christ's sake, please can you just-" She bit her tongue, hard, slammed her fist against the counter top. Eyes tightly shut, if I can't see him maybe he can't see me. A child's logic, like a game of hide-and-seek. It felt pathetic; it was actually.

How stupid was this- Feeling bitter and anxious and a genuine upset, when anybody else would be relieved and overcome with joy. Her brother, the last family she had, was standing in the middle of her kitchen. Alive, and remotely unfazed by the last ten years out in the wastes. Scratch that, he was more than okay.

Elder Sheling, if she remembered her robes. Looked like he'd made a good life for himself. In spite of it all. Or maybe the wastes just gave him an opportunity to excel, to be more than just another vault dweller, reach his full potential. Whatever the hell it was, their lives looked vastly different now. He was different now.

"-Can you please just talk to me like I'm a normal person? There is no need for formalities between us." A few words in and her throat got tight all over again. Couldn't breathe, couldn't think. Fuck. "-Why are you here." The moment the words left her mouth she regretted it, but couldn't stop. Already she could feel the corners of her eyes welling up, and she pressed the heals of her hands hard against her face. "Did you come to brag? To show off, to show me what I could never do? Because I left, and-and now you're punishing me for it? Because I left you twice and now you've come to rub this all in my face?"

Shut up.

"I-I don't know you anymore, and you don't know me. But for the love of God could you please just talk to me like I'm your sister-"

Getting Devil to show reverence for a somber moment might as well have been asking the sun to change its course across the sky. As it was he gave a low snicker at the thanks he pulled out of her, even as he pressed that cloth tighter against the gash in his head.

Devil tilted his head towards her before he was stalking off, rifle still slung against his arm as he walked in case any more ferals jumped out at them.

So far it looked promising.

Despite the dim light, he could spot an abandoned roadside diner around the corner-- good enough to sit. Good, because maybe he was starting to feel woozy with the amount of blood dripping through that rag on his head. Still, can't help being a jerk.

"So, you gonna nurse me back to health, then? Where did you go to medical school?"

Frankly, neither one of them had known each other long enough to excuse the two-way attitudes. Should have a shred of professionalism- Although, out here that seemed a bit pretentious. General decency was few and far between, and God knows she'd gotten enough bitching from Charon to last a lifetime. All this hardly phased her.

Still, couldn't help but scuff and drag her feet against the dirt just a bit. Followed close behind him all the same, wiped her palms on the front of her pants before piking up the pace. Bev wasn't sure if what streaked her cargos was sweat or feral blood, and at this point she was so apathetic to check. "I didn't." She answered quickly. Dad had, she assumed, but there was little point in brining him up in conversation. Besides, he didn't know her like that, to know family history and shit.

"But last I checked, between the two of us I have the med kit."

Maybe it was a bit too soon for snide comments. The blood splattered across their bodies had barely had a chance to dry, still stank of iron and decay. He'd been on the messier side, obviously.

"-Thank you, Devil." She mumbled begrudgingly, and bit the inside of her cheek. A case could be made for why a genuine show of gratitude was needed -And sure, when the situation changed and the tension settled, she'd drop the attitude. But now her hands still shook, her stomach still twisted into a tight knot, and all she wanted to do was get the hell out of the wide open. "...Keep pressure on that." Bev gave him a sideways glance. "That thing got you pretty deep, but it's extra bloody because of all the vessels in your head-" He probably didn't care. "...I'll dress it properly for you once we stop for a moment."

Send "What if they kissed?"

and I'll write a scene where our muses kiss, even if they aren't shipped together. it is it's own thing and doesn't have to lead to an official ship. a "what if scenario"

Send a ◎ and a question and my muse must answer, even if it’s a secret.