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So Poison’s out here, half their buttcheeks and whole legs out cooking in the radiation, all because they wanted to tan them. Which is kinda bullshit, Ghoul thinks, cause this isn’t Venice beach with pristine sand and pretty waves and sunshine that’s not deadly enough to turn you into a radiation addict. It’s a damn desert, and only someone with their head too far up their ass would come up with this. He shouldn’t be surprised at Poison’s antics at this point.
Of course Ghoul accompanies them anyway, because hey, it’s the end of the world if he misses any free opportunities of seeing that expanse of plump skin peeking from shorts too short. That’s Poison’s thing- if they aren’t in jeans too tight that they’d piss in them (more than once- not that Ghoul’s been keeping count or anything), they’ll wear “shorts” that’d be better off labeled as underwear if underwear could be made of jeans.
Not that Ghoul’s complaining though. He isn’t gonna complain one bit, with the way he’s not-so-subtly ogling at Poison’s ass at the moment. Fucking hell, those thighs too.
And Ghoul didn’t mean to but his gaze just happened to drop a little lower from the thighs to the calves and to the top of Poison’s feet resting against the worn-out blanket acting as a beach mat, and now he’s feeling something that’s dangerously close to foot fetish territory, which is really sad, because how fucked up do you have to be to like, look at someone’s feet and think that’s kinda hot?
“Seriously,” Ghoul says, because he needs to come up with something before he really delves into that thought. “Tanning?”
“I already told you,” Poison sighs dramatically, making an ever so dramatic turn as they roll over from lying on their front to facing Ghoul, sunglasses perched up to their forehead. “Gorgeous girls get gorgeous legs when they’re tanned to perfection.”
“And half their asses apparently.”
“And half my ass.” A pause. “You were looking. Can’t blame you on that- these shorts leave no room for imagination. What’d you think?” Poison turns over, stretching their arms out and arching their back. Ghoul’s eyes track every movement, watching with mild amusement. They’re even wiggling their ass up in the air, that bastard.
“It’s not like I’ve got better things to do.” Actually, there were better things to do, like keeping a look-out for any ‘crows that come flocking. Not that they’re in a hot spot for crows anyway, at least according to Cherri’s map. “I’ll give it an eight. I need to get up close and personal if you want a higher rating.”
The left corner of Poison’s lip twitches up. Ghoul almost misses the “Freak Ghoul” Poison says under their breath.
“Motherfucker. Say that to my face.”
Ghoul shifts to accommodate half of Poison’s body as they’re crawling up to his lap.
“Yeah?” The abandoned makeshift beach mat crumples up, specks of desert sand spraying onto it as Poison clambers on top of Ghoul. Poison's eyes sparkle with mischief as they lean closer to Ghoul's face. "Freak Ghoul," they say, a little louder this time.
"Says the Zones’ biggest adrenaline junkie freak show," Ghoul says with a grin, his hands now toying with the loose strands at the edge of Poison’s black sleeveless shirt.
"You love me,” Poison’s leaning in close as they say this, their lips brushing against the top of Ghoul’s. “Only freaks fall in love with me.”
“A match made in heaven. Hallelujah.” Ghoul says, squeezing the expanse of exposed skin underneath Poison’s shirt, and Poison’s only response is bursting into a fit of honk-giggles, which is making Ghoul crack up too because holy shit Poison’s laugh is just- and everything’s looking blurry cause they’re both rolling about on top of Ghoul’s mat, limbs flying and legs kicking up a sand storm around them.
Ghoul's laughter eventually subsides and he looks up at Poison, still grinning widely. ”Poison," Ghoul says. He sneaks a hand up to the back of Poison’s neck, pulling them close until their noses touch. "I do love you, Poison. Seriously.”
Poison’s giggling again, but it comes out strained. Forceful.
“Fuck. Oh, you’re fucking with me-“ They shake their head, red hair tickling the top of Ghoul’s face. “You can’t just- Ghoul, you can’t.”
Poison’s starting to struggle against Ghoul’s grip, though Ghoul’s grip only tightens further until Poison’s limp in his hold, breathing heavily above him.
“Poison.”
“We need to go back-“
“We’re all gonna die eventually.“ Ghoul continues, trying to keep his tone light. “Why not just- you know? Stop running away from each other for once? Just, be real with me, Poison. Relax.”
“Relax, huh? Relax!” Poison explodes. “You can’t be serious. We’re living in a desert, fuck’s sake, barely surviving on gas fumes and dog food with the threat of pigs popping up from every damned corner. So what if I play with you once in a while? That’s not love- are you fucking smirking at me right now? Are you even listening to me? Hey, hey-“ Poison’s snapping their fingers in front of Ghoul’s face, and Ghoul really knows it’s not the right time to be smug with the way Poison’s fuming but their face is just priceless and-
“Sorry it’s just- I’m sorry!”
“Ghoul!”
“I know, I’m sorry-“
“You’re not listening-“
Ghoul pulls Poison by their shirt until their mouths collide with each other.
“What the fuck.” Poison gasps as they forcefully pry their mouth away from Ghoul. “What the fuck.”
Ghoul, staring at them, could only manage a cheeky, “Uh.”
“Don’t just uh me, Ghoul, the fuck?”
Poison’s scrambling off Ghoul’s body now, dusting off the sand that’s collected on their shirt and exposed skin. They plop down onto the striped blanket, sitting cross-legged, looking at Ghoul expectantly.
“Look-,” Ghoul trails off, mirroring Poison’s position. “I just- uh. It was just you looked so cute, all flustered like that-“
“Right.”
“-and I know. I know you didn’t mean it.”
“What?”
“That you don’t love me.”
Poison scoffs. They pointedly avoid Ghoul’s gaze. “You’re delusional.”
“Nah.” Ghoul says with a shrug, inching closer towards Poison, his knee bumping theirs. “I’m just really romantic with psychic powers.”
“Was it Kobra? He told you?”
“Yes- No…!” Ghoul groans and smacks his palm to his forehead. “Is this how you’re finally confessing to me?”
Poison's face flushes with red the same shade as their hair, and they turn away from Ghoul, staring out at the horizon. "I don't know what you're talking about," they mutter. “Anyways, my point still stands. ”
“You’re finally admitting it,” Ghoul gawks. About damn time. Did the Witch hear his prayers? The letters must’ve been such a headache to read.
“It’s like you don’t ever listen to what I say,” Poison sighs. “Maybe that’s why I- What does it matter, Ghoul? We don’t have much time left either way.”
“That’s the whole point,” Ghoul says as he reaches out to take Poison’s hand in his own. He traces the bumps of their knuckles with his thumb as he says, “We gotta make the best of what we have left. It’s not much. Make these last days count, alright? You get me?”
“But-“
“So stop wasting your time and kiss me, crash queen.”