Work Text:
——
It’s been three weeks since Hancock started following Nate across the wasteland, and Nate is surprised again and again at how well it just works.
Hancock is deadly competent against every threat they’ve dealt with thus far, and he’s fearless in a way even Nate struggles with. He’ll throw himself into a fight, and half the time he’s the one finishing off the raiders or gunners or ghouls they run into. He is, Nate thinks, a perfect companion to have.
He’s chatty, too. Nate can’t decide if he hates it or not. It’s so quiet all the time that he leans most often toward the latter.
“I was laid up in the state house for days, slowly losin’ my mind,” Hancock jokes as they march endlessly across desolate earth.
They’re bound for Sanctuary, and Nate knows he’s dragging his feet on purpose. Hancock doesn’t question their slowed pace. Nate is thankful.
“And Fahrenheit, God bless her, had to play nurse the whole time. I still owe her for that one. She never lets me forget it.”
“Because you went and got stabbed?” Nate finds himself almost smiling. He’s doing that a lot lately. It feels foreign still.
Hancock laughs, gravelly and deeply amused. “You shoulda seen the other guy, Nate, he picked the wrong day to try to fuck with one of mine.”
Nate’s half-smile grows. “Never knew a mayor to get in street brawls. Judging by what I’ve seen out here, you probably won all of them.”
Hancock beams. “Sure did. Most people know better. It’s more fun when they don’t.”
A sudden peal of thunder rumbles across the sky, distant yet but approaching quick. The sky starts to fade into that now-familiar sickly green-yellow, and Nate sighs as his bare smile falls away.
“God dammit,” he says softly. “Haven’t got any Rad-X. Was hoping we’d be back at Sanctuary before any storm hit.”
Hancock steps closer to nudge his shoulder against Nate’s. “We got Radaway. I know it makes you sick, I’m sorry. Looks like there’s a shack up ahead. We can make it before the storm is on us.”
They march harder, bound for the dilapidated building sitting lonely amongst all the nothingness. Nate is thankful that they’re at least close to Sanctuary; there’re more places to hunker down the closer they get to Concord.
It’s easy to kick the door open, and it creaks horribly as it swings wide. Hancock steps in first, shotgun poised to fire as he sweeps the first floor. “All clear down here,” he says as he makes his way upstairs.
Nate shuts the door behind himself, though it’ll do very little good to keep the rads out once the storm is over them. Lightning cracks across the sky more frequently; they have maybe twenty minutes before the rain hits.
He’s withstood them out in the open before, but he hates how sick he gets. His body isn’t used to all this, he’s only been thawed and above ground for four months or so, so he’s thankful for this little bit of shelter. At least the rain won’t make his skin raw.
“There’s a bed up here, Nate,” Hancock calls from the top of the stairs. “And a safe if you can get it open.”
Nate quirks a half-smile and follows him up.
The mattress against the far wall is crooked but in decent shape, and the exhaustion in his body comes out of nowhere at the promise of a soft place to lay down. The hard ground is brutal, and he hates that he’s getting used to it. A bed feels like a treat these days.
Hancock is fiddling with a safe embedded in the wall, humming in thought as he picks at the rusted lock. “You got bobby pins on you?”
“Always,” Nate says as he drops his pack on the bed. He sighs as the weight falls away. It feels good to be rid of it. He swears it just gets heavier and heavier. He makes note to offload his scrap at his place at the Rocket, and to find a place to sell the few valuables he’s tucked away.
He digs through his pack for the tin box he keeps stowed inside and he rattles it to gauge how many bobby pins he has to see if this is worth it. The safe could have nothing in it, but if they’re lucky there’s first aid of some kind. If he’s really lucky there will be some Rad-X.
The lock is easy to pick. He’s getting good at it. Hancock chuckles as he gets it open in thirty seconds, sitting heavily on the mattress as he watches Nate crack the door.
Nate sighs with disappointment. No Rad-X, but there’s a can of purified water and a sweet roll that’s probably been there since he descended into the Vault.
“Damn,” he says softly as he digs out the contents. The water will help, at least, when the storm passes.
“I’m sorry, Nate,” Hancock murmurs, voice low and rough in the too-quiet. Thunder rumbles again, and the air starts to crackle around them. The sky is horrible and yellow. They’re out of time.
“It’s alright,” Nate sighs. “We might just be holed up here for a day while I puke my guts out.”
“Maybe Fahrenheit will forgive me for her playin’ nurse when I tell her how often I do it for you,” Hancock teases, and Nate wants to smile again. “Lay down. I’ll keep watch.”
Nate is tempted to, his eyes feel heavy with exhaustion, but he knows he won’t be able to settle with the storm booming overhead. “Nah,” he murmurs. “You rest.”
Hancock watches him with a peculiar look on his face for a moment before he sets his pack and Nate’s on the floor beside the bed. “It’s probably plenty safe here. Lay down, Nate. I’ll bore you to tears with a history lesson and maybe it’ll knock you out.”
Now Nate does smile. “You know, it’s funny what you call a history lesson, John. You know I lived most of it, right?”
“Exactly,” Hancock says with a grin. “All the more boring for it, if you know how it all goes.”
Nate gives in and kicks up on the bed. Hancock sits beside him, back to the wall, and he talks.
The storm gets loud, and rain pours through the gaping holes in the roof. None of them are over the bed, thank God, so they stay dry. The crackle in the air gets worse, the sky darkens to a nasty sick color, and the thunder booms.
He barely hears Hancock’s voice as he lays there feeling his body get sicker. It starts in his head, and then his belly, and then his whole body shakes with the need to hurl. He hasn’t got much in his stomach, and it’s almost worse that way. He hates dry-heaving.
Hancock settles a comforting hand over Nate’s chest, and it does something funny to his heart. His anxiety fades some, just enough to be bearable again, and he sighs deep as he lets his eyes slide shut and he listens to the familiar sound of Hancock’s voice.
——
He jolts awake when his gut turns and he rolls to hang over the bed and heave. The storm has lessened, but it’s still looming, and Nate resigns himself to a miserable night.
Hancock pats his back as he retches dry, talking softly as Nate groans and tries to ignore how his body aches.
“It’ll be over soon. There’s a Radaway with your name on it, pal, I’ve got it ready for you.”
Nate’s heart twists with something akin to fondness.
He hadn’t expected Hancock to be so kind when he’d asked him to travel at his side. He’s considerate to a fault, offering Nate support in every way he can. Nate is grateful, even if he can’t say it like he should.
His stomach roils as the rads make him sicker and sicker. The Geiger counter on his Pip-Boy clicks faster than he’d like it to, screaming at him how much radiation he’s taking in. Too much. Someday maybe way more than he can stand.
He lays in misery as the sky slowly clears to a deep navy blue. How long has it been? The moon is high when that gross yellow finally fades away, and Nate listens with relief as the thunder disappears into the distance.
“Jesus,” he groans. He heaves again, body leaden and tired. “Thank God that’s over.”
“We’ll be better at keepin’ the Rad-X stocked.” Hancock gets up from the bed and rounds it to coax Nate up to sit. “Get that ridiculous Vault suit down so I can get at your arm.”
Nate listens. He likes listening. He trusts Hancock more than he’s trusted a single other soul since he woke, maybe in all his life. He never questions him. Hancock is never wrong.
Nate sighs deep as he peels his suit away from his top half. His body is sore as he shrugs it off his shoulders, struggling to get it down his arms. Gentle hands join his to help, and he’s grateful again for his friend.
He has a friend. A real one. It makes him feel somehow that much better, knowing he isn’t really alone anymore.
“Thank you, John,” he murmurs as his eyes slide shut and he waits for the sting of the needle.
“No problem, Nate. Can’t have you sick, it’s no fun out here in the miserable nothin’ without you.”
Nate huffs a soft laugh. He doesn’t flinch when the needle pierces his skin, and he waits for the Radaway to leech into his blood and clear away the storm.
“We’re only a few miles from home,” Hancock says lightly. “Twenty caps says Garvey pummels you to clear a settlement before you’re even through the gate.”
Home, Nate thinks. He doesn’t know how Hancock can call it that, when he’s got Goodneighbor waiting for him. That’s his home, surely, not this place too full of people who expect so much of them both. Nate surely doesn’t call it home. He doesn’t think he’ll ever call anywhere home.
“Fifty caps says he’s waitin’ at the Rocket because he knows I’ll hide there.”
Hancock laughs, deep and full of mirth. “You’re on, pal. Hope to God we’re both wrong. That asshole doesn’t know when to leave you the hell alone.”
Nate smiles as his heart twists with fondness. “Least I got you to tell him to back off.”
Hancock is abnormally silent, and Nate blinks his eyes open to find a furrow in his brow. His face is always so expressive. He talks with his eyes and his crooked smile as much as he does with his words. An open book, plain as day. Something is bothering him.
“What is it?” Nate asks, body feeling better by a fraction as the bag Hancock pinned to the wall slowly drains.
“Nothin’,” Hancock murmurs. “Sit still ‘til the bag is empty. You’ll need sleep after. I’ll get you somethin’ to eat.”
Nate wants so badly to know what he’s thinking, but he isn’t the type to pry. If Hancock wanted to tell him, he would.
Hancock disappears down the stairs, and Nate can hear him rummaging around the ruined kitchen. His head is a mess as his blood mingles with Radaway, and he’s relieved when his stomach settles and his muscles loosen.
He feels something for Hancock he hasn’t really got a name for. Fondness, for sure, and gratitude. There’s something else, just out of reach. He grasps for it and comes up empty.
“It’s your lucky day, pal, this tin of cram ain’t even dented.”
Nate blinks his heavy eyes open as Hancock pries open the lid, and his stomach rumbles with hunger. The meds are working, then. The thought of food isn’t making him want to puke.
“I’ll have half,” he says. “You’ll have half.”
Hancock opens his mouth to argue but Nate fixes him with a look that shuts him up. He sighs. “Yeah, yeah,” he grumbles. “If you insist.”
“I insist.”
It hardly even tastes like dog food anymore, he’s had it so often, and it settles his roiling stomach as he passes the tin back and forth with Hancock beside him. It’s filling, somewhat. They’ll have a better meal when they hit the Rocket. They’ve got a good stash there now that no one knows to bother.
“You feel any better?”
Nate nods as he swallows his mouthful. “Tired. But better.”
“Lucky you, there’s a bed to sleep in. Lay down and get some shuteye.”
Nate can’t even argue. He flops down to the lumpy mattress and gives in. He listens as Hancock shuffles around the room, and he doesn’t fight it when Hancock carefully takes the Pip-Boy off of his arm. It feels good to be free of it for a little while, and it’s easier to sleep without it.
The sounds of Diamond City Radio pipe through, and Nate sighs as he drifts off.
His last thought before unconsciousness is that he’s so thankful for this man he never expected to find.
——
He wakes with the sun, and there’s a weight beside him in bed. He rolls to his back, and his side hits Hancock.
Nate tips his head to look at him, still soft as he comes out of sleep, and his heart twists again. Hancock is dead to the world, chest rising and falling with deep breaths as he sleeps peacefully. His tricorn is on the dresser, his frock coat laid out beside it, and Nate smiles as his eyes flick to the bedroom door.
There’s a bookcase shoved against it as a barricade, and Nate smiles deeper.
He feels so much better after his rest. All the sickness is gone from his body, and he sighs with relief. He’s in no hurry to get going. He’s content to just lay here and let Hancock sleep.
His smile slides away as he tries to figure out that feeling again. It’s still right there, but it’s out of reach.
He pushes it from his mind and he lets his eyes fall closed again. For now he’s content. He can have that.
——
Hancock grumbles as he digs caps out of his pack, tossing a bag of them at Nate as they approach the Rocket. “God dammit,” he says under his breath. “Fuck off, Garvey,” he calls as they get close enough to be heard.
Garvey gives him a look he gives him all the time, disapproving and vaguely annoyed. “Nate is needed at a settlement to the south. It’s a few day’s walk. I’d like it if you could get going no later than tomorrow morning.”
Nate sighs and shoulders through the front door, chucking his pack under the counter as he moves through his own sanctuary and gets ready to settle in.
“He just got through a rad storm,” Hancock says through his teeth as he stands outside with Garvey, keeping him outside the doorway. “Give ‘im a few days.”
“What are you, his handler?”
“I’m his friend, dickhead, and you can’t say the same.”
Nate laughs as he digs out clean clothes and starts to peel off his suit. “Leave ‘im alone, John, we’ll stay a couple days.”
Garvey huffs as he turns to march away, grumbling under his breath as he disappears around the corner.
“God, he’s obnoxious,” Hancock says as he kicks the door shut and throws down his own pack. “I don’t know how you stand him.”
“He means well. Hard to find that out here.”
Hancock growls something like he’s still a goddamn asshole, and Nate laughs as he kicks off his suit and gathers his clothes. He’s ready for a bath, even if the water is cold.
Hancock whistles as Nate walks through the Rocket in his boxers. “Look at that pre-war specimen, ladies and gentlemen,” he teases. “All-American.”
Nate rolls his eyes and cracks a wry smile. “Whatever.”
Hancock teases him some more, and Nate feels his chest tighten. He’s still smiling as he pumps water into his cracked tub, feeling strange that it’s so easy.
He sighs through his teeth when he dips into the less than lukewarm water, but his body adjusts quickly and he grabs a bar of soap to scrub the grit and grime off of his skin.
A quiet settles over him, and he finds he can’t smile anymore. He knows this quiet, he’s known it since he climbed up out of the Vault. He cleans himself up in silence, anxiety making his heart ache.
He doesn’t speak much that night. Hancock chatters all the while, and Nate is grateful for that at least.
He lays awake well into the night with Hancock laying just across the room. How much more of this?
Sleep is uneasy and restless. He’s used to that. It’s miserable.
If he’s lucky Hancock will wake before he does. It always means he wakes to a hot breakfast, to the radio playing just on the right side of too loud, to Hancock humming along to songs Nate heard in his old life.
Maybe he’ll find peace in that. He hopes so.
——