Dangerous Thing

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When he found Fun Ghoul unconscious on the side of the road, Poison had thought he was just some run away teen.
He was already small, but he looked absolutely tiny with how worryingly thin he was, when Poison picked him up he weighed as much as a child.

Of course he brought him home, he wasn't going to leave some unconscious malnourished kid to starve to death in the desert.
It wasn't until Jet took Ghouls shirt off that they realized he was probably a good bit older than he looked, no runaway teen would have that much ink and scars.

Ghoul didn't talk when he finally woke up, he just stared at them. Or at least they thought he was staring, it was hard to tell with how his greasy tangled hair covered his face. He'd bitten Poison when he'd tried to touch it, so they left it be.

He was like a caged wild animal, he wouldn't talk and he growled when they got too close. However he did accept food, so they counted that as a win. They didn't keep him against his will, they told him he could leave if he wanted, but he was smart enough not to take free food and a bed for granted, even it he clearly didn't trust any of them.

Poison felt a need to earn this strange man's trust for some reason, maybe he felt responsible for him considering he was the one that found him.

The only reason they even knew Ghouls name was because the guy had a copy of his own wanted poster in his vest pocket. He was a mystery. They didn't know where he was from, how old he actually was, why he was alone, nothing.
Well. They knew he could read, and they knew he liked watching Jet try to teach Kobra mechanics. Most of which involved Kobra failing and Ghoul snickering.

Weeks past and Ghoul still hadn't said a single word. Poisons attempts at gaining his trust had gotten him nowhere, but Ghoul hadn't up and left so he probably didn't hate him at least.

*

The first time Poison heard Ghoul's voice, he was screaming.

They'd split into two teams to search an abandoned warehouse, Jet with Kobra and Ghoul with him. Things were going well when a group of dracs kicked down the door and opened fire.

They held their own until Ghouls gun jammed, and in a split second decision that he didn't think through even a little, Poison threw himself in front of Ghoul to shield him from a blast.
The last thing he saw was Ghoul grabbing his gun from his limp hand and letting out a roar of anger as he shot at the remaining dracs.

He woke up hours later in bed with Jet treating his wound, but all he could focus on was the top of Ghoul's head visible over the edge of his bed where he sat curled up and muttering so quietly that Poison couldn't make out any words.

*

Maybe Poison should have been uncomfortable when Ghoul started sleeping under his bed, but to him it seemed like Ghoul not only trusted him now, but felt safe around him.
And if he happened to hear quiet sniffles and ended up with one arm hanging off his bed and felt fingers tentatively wrap around his, well, he never mentioned it in the morning.

Ghoul became his second shadow. If Poison was creating anti drac propaganda Ghoul was sitting next to him and watching. If he was sneaking posters into the city Ghoul went with him and carried the spray cans. If he went on a supplies run Ghoul was in the passenger seat.

Ghoul kept his silence but Poison still talked to him anyway. He couldn't really tell if he was actually listening, but he liked to think so.

Poison told him about what he could remember from before the wars, rumors and gossip he'd heard, his ideas for the comics he'd write someday, and maybe even some things he shouldn't have told him. Things he hadn't even told Jet or Kobra.
Maybe he shouldn't have felt so comfortable opening up to Ghoul so quickly, but it felt natural.