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“Can we share the blanket?”
The question is, in part, a whine. V leans against the wall in the back of Panam’s van, half-glaring at her nomad companion as Panam leans over the front seats to peer out the windows and check on the condition of the storm raging outside. If V had a nickel for each time she’d been caught in a sandstorm with Panam she’d have two nickels, which isn’t a lot but it’s a weird coincidence. Even weirder V’s out in nomad territory, anyways; she’s much more used to the lively nights in Night City by her lonesome. Having company at night is something new, something foreign, and again her nights with company have only been spent with Panam. Anyhow; the blanket in question is draped over Panam’s shoulders and V’s getting cold.
Panam shoots V a look over her shoulder, “Maybe you should’ve brought your own.” It’s hard to tell if she’s kidding or not, and V groans.
“I didn’t think we’d be spending the night out here.” V pouts. Then she adds, “ Again. ”
“Fresh air’d do you some good.” Panam smirks. “Admit it, you like being away from the city smog.”
“Maybe so.” V shoots Panam a half-hearted glare. “But last time we got stuck out here, there was a house.”
“A hotel.” Panam corrects, winking.
V rolls her eyes, but little can stop the soft laugh that leaves her lips, “Sure, yeah. But still, we had power. And heat . We can’t leave the car running for God knows how long.” Panam sits down, back leaning against the driver’s seat. Her smirk lingers.
“That’s why the van isn’t on, V.” Panam says, smug. She points at the neon yellow jacket V’s wearing, still smirking, “Maybe if you wore a shirt under that jacket you wouldn’t be as cold.
V scoffs, rolling her eyes, “Please, Palmer. This is a tits out kind of look. Why, you don’t like it?”
“I just think you’d be warmer if you adhered to public decency, V,” Panam says, tugging the blanket closer around her shoulders almost tauntingly. V hugs herself and offers the most pathetic whine she can muster, giving Panam the best puppy eyes she has. It probably would’ve worked better, V realizes, if she’d taken her Aviators off. But Panam seems pleased to have bugged V long enough, so she stands up and gestures to V, “Make some room, then.”
V sits up a little, expecting Panam to sit beside her or literally anything else; but instead Panam plops down between V’s legs, her back pressing against V’s chest. V stretches her legs out a little, knees bumping against Panam’s, as Panam hands the blanket to V. V wraps it around her shoulders, tugging it around the two of them. Her hands, still holding the blanket, come to rest just in front of Panam’s stomach. Panam tilts her head to the side, allowing V to rest her chin in the dip where Panam’s shoulder and neck meets.
Panam smells like the earth, like the wind. The scent of the cold, open night air lingers on her like a lover’s touch. V’s not sure what’s warmer; the blanket, or Panam herself. V’s fingertips run along Panam’s forearms, slowly coming to rest on top of Panam’s hands. Panam’s knuckles rest against her palm as Panam slowly turns their hands palm-up. V’s heart sinks a little, Panam’s hands are still so human; nothing has been replaced there, not like V’s hands. Panam’s hands move. She takes one of V’s in her own, thumbs running over V’s synthetic knuckles. Her fingers trace the mod ports along V’s arm, down to the elbow joint.
“Did it hurt?” Panam asks, flipping V’s hand so it’s palm-up again. She runs her fingers against V’s palm, along the lines where machinery meets synthflesh.
“Did what hurt?” V turns her head, Panam’s hair tickling her cheek. Her lips almost brush Panam’s cheek and Panam shivers as she fiddles with V’s fingers. Her thumbs brush over the backs of V’s fingers, slowly closing them into a fist.
“When the ripperdoc replaced your arms. Did it hurt?”
V shrugs, “No, not really. Vik knows his stuff. I guess it was a little weird to get used to at first, though.” V moves her free hand, fingertips brushing against the scarring on Panam’s hip. Panam’s breath hitches in her chest. “Did this hurt?”
“You were there when it happened.” Panam scoffs. “Yeah, it hurt.” V hums, snaking her arm around Panam’s waist. Panam closes her eyes, settling back against V as the storm winds batter the van. V closes her eyes, turning to rest her cheek against Panam’s neck. Her breath tickles Panam’s skin and she shivers again, thumbs gently massaging V’s palm.
“You still cold?” V asks quietly, oblivious.
“No.” Panam says, slowly releasing V’s hand. “I think I’m starting to warm up.” And yet she stays put.
“And the storm outside?” V asks, chin still resting on Panam’s shoulder. Panam closes her eyes and sinks into the touch, letting it consume her. The nomads are her family, her kin; but she’s not close to them, not like this. There’s a fine line between the love she has for her friends, for her family; and then there’s what she feels for V. It’s a hot, tangled up mess that lives in her chest; all knots and bungles. Untangleable, intangible. She hasn’t dared looked at it, nor has she dared think of it. But it’s getting harder to ignore now.
“Still going strong, but dying down.” Panam says. “Can’t you hear it?”
“I can, yeah.” V hums. “But I thought I’d ask. Small talk, you know?”
“Yeah?” Panam asks dryly. “Well, your small talk sucks.”
V grins, wolfish and smug, “It’s better than yours, though.”
“I guess you’ve got me there.” Panam’s lips quirk in a half-smile. “And V?”
“Yeah?”
“There’s really no one else I’d rather weather this storm with. Thank you, for being out here.”