Spare Me | Fallout 4 John Hancock x FSS

Earthy Pine, Cigarettes and Gasoline

I was very rudely awoken with the sound of a cocking gun in my face, courtesy of a mean, probably gay red headed woman. I thought about that for a moment, my little bisexual heart skipping a beat. She has a gun to your head, you moron, I thought. Then I made the mistake of chuckling at myself out loud. "Oh, you think this is funny, huh?" the redhead asked. Rather aggressively, I might add.

The next thing I heard was the pattering of distant footsteps. It sounded like combat boots running up the inner stairs of the statehouse. I figured Hancock had stepped out, forgetting that his guard mutt might not like seeing someone other than him in his prized bed. Although, this can't be the first time a woman has shown up in the Mayor's bed. It could be a rare occurrence, due to the grave, melted state of his entire face, but that's beside the point. Seeing as this would be over in a couple seconds, I thought I'd have fun with the situation.

"I actually find it quite pathetic, what you're doing." The look of surprise I got from her was exactly the response I was hoping for. "Holding a sleeping woman at gunpoint. As if I'm a threat." An idea sprung on me, and I had to take the opportunity, "How about when I'm all healed and fully awake, you and I have a fair-and-square scrap in Scollay Square?" Before I got an answer, Hancock came busting though the bedroom entryway.

He paused in the doorway, seeming to assess the situation. "Whoa, whoa, hey now. Fahrenheit, down girl," the mayor let out a nervous chuckle. "We don't want the whole Commonwealth on our asses for the murder of our savior, now do we? I'm gonna have to ask you to point that gun somewhere else." Fahrenheit did as told and lowered her weapon.

She continued to glare at me, finger still on the trigger. That's incredibly bad gun safety, Fahrenheit. I managed to hold back my laughter in lieu of being shot in the face by the woman who can't seem to take her finger off an active trigger. "So if I move, are you gonna react or can I get out of this bed you seem so intent on protecting with your life?" Fahrenheit gave me one last, nasty sneer before turning on her heel and walking toward the entryway.

She paused just before making her exit and, without turning to face me, said, "Meet me in the square at 0900 in 2 days. Any longer and I'll hunt you down myself." She left Hancock and I without a chance for another smart remark from either of us. That, of course, didn't stop me from sitting up and grabbing one of the used Jet inhalers off of the nightstand and giving it a toss in her direction. Unfortunately, Hancock whipped his head back toward me just in time to notice the red object flying toward his second in command. He grabbed the inhaler in midair as if it was just floating there and, without missing a single beat, chucked it back at me. It stuck me in the chest; not hard, but directly over an unhealed burn mark. I made my best attempt to seem unfazed by the excruciating burning sensation running through my entire upper body. It seemed to be successful considering the ghoul just walked in my direction, opening his mouth to scold me.

"Are you trying to get her to shoot you?" He landed himself in the chair next to the bed. "Actually, I don't even need to ask. You clearly have some kind of fucking death wish." I started to protest but was immediately interrupted, "Hey, I don't care. A little spite toward life is what keeps the gears turning. But could you at least wait until you're out of my settlement to commit suicide-by-merc?"

"Unfortunately for you, I have plans to enact my suicide-by-merc in Scollay Square in 2 days." I tossed the inhaler back at him. He caught it, because of course he did. "Didn't you hear?"

Hancock attempted to take a hit of the Jet, realized it was empty, and made a perfect toss into the garbage can across the room. "So that's what that was about, huh? You challenged the beast?"

"She makes it so easy, doesn't she? She makes it so obvious that she just wants to murder something."

"And you just had to choose my square to get murdered in?" The good Mayor threw his head back in feigned defeat, with a groan of exasperation to suit. I gave a hearty laugh as I swung my legs over the bed. I then made the mistake of looking over at the Mayor as he laid sprawled in the chair. I hadn't taken a good look at him until now. His skin was melted into peaks and dips all over his showing skin, just like any other ghoul. Scarred by the long exposure to radiation. But there was something about the air he commanded around him that gave him an edge. Not to be trifled with, but certainly to be fucked with, my thoughts got away from me with that one. I shook the thought out of my head and kept my eyes on him, studying. The garmets that adorned him were torn and frayed but still vibrant. His frock coat was a deep red, surrounding the tan of his ripped poet shirt and the back of his leather pants. The leather pants that, Oh my god, were remarkably well tailored to him. What, do they have to oil him up every morning to slip him into those? Fuck, I chuckled at my own joke. And that was my mistake.

The Mayor finally lifted his head to look back at me. He still looked relaxed in the chair, arms draped over the arm rests, shoulders slack. And still, he looks like he lifts hay for fun. The lean muscle the peaked out of his worn shirt looked taught. "Admiring the view?" was what so rudely interrupted my admiring thoughts. I looked the the face of the man that spoke and, unsurprisingly, I found that cocky, arrogant smirk. I gave him no mind and went about stretching out the tired that remained in my muscles and bones. As a final stretch, I laid my hands behind me and arched my back, stretching my spine and shoulders. When I finally went to stand, I noticed stark black eyes on me.

"Admiring the view?" I said, proud of myself.

"Since you walked through those gates, Sunshine." His response was so immediate and coy. I felt heat rise to my cheeks again and all pride and whit escaped me. I tried to turn away quick enough that he wouldn't notice, but the laugh I received proved my actions futile. "Ya might as well stop tryin' to pretend I don't get a rise out of you." Out of spite (and maybe lack of words,) I stayed silent. I sat forward and located my boots, slipping them on and lacing them to my feet. I couldn't believe I slept in this godforsaken Vault Suit. I could've sworn they made them out of rubber and the tears of small children.

As I stood, I looked over to the ghoul and noticed his eyes still fixed on me. I wondered quietly what his thoughts were. Why wonder? I asked myself. "Thoughts, Mr. Mayor?"

"Lots of 'em," he grinned. "If ya come here, I'll whisper them to ya." My heart leaped. I needed to get out of that room, pronto. Or don't. Indulge him, my own brain taunted me. Oh, to chose spite or bravery? That was the question. I knew my automatic answer. I'd never chose a response to any situation that didn't have at least a small amount of sarcasm or irony. Before I knew it, Hancock had stood up and was already at my side. Does ghoulism come with teleportation?

He just stood in front of me. He didn't do anything, I would have expected him to try to touch me, grab me, something. But he didn't. I thought, in that moment, that was almost worse than if he had tried something. It left it entirely up to me, and I was prone to making bad decisions.

It felt like there wasn't enough room for air between us. A perfect limbo between touching and separated. Hancock was so close I could smell him; a mixture of earthy pine, cigarettes and gasoline. In that moment, that excruciatingly long moment, I felt like I hadn't in months. I felt like I was back home. Before the bombs, before I'd met Nate. Being near Hancock made me feel like I was driving my convertible on a sunny day down highway 95; freshly 18, free and happy. A time before the world crushed and molded me into who I am today.

I couldn't help but reach out and touch his face. He flinched away ever so slightly at first, but once my soft palm touched his rough cheek, he seemed to just stiffen. He had closed his eyes with the flinch, opening them now to meet mine. He looked almost scared. His black eyes were so unreadable and yet I got the sense that he was terrified. I smiled at him reassuringly and cocked my head to the side like a curious dog; like Dogmeat trying to figure out what I'm telling him. Hancock closed his eyes again, this time softly with a look of serenity. I dropped my hand from his face only to feel his hand catch it and pull it back to its original position. It was a wordless moment of calm and softness, something the wasteland didn't allow much. I had to ruin it before something else did, "Hancock?"

His eyes shot open and he let go of my hand. "I'm sorry," he cleared his throat and stepped back out of my grasp. The Mayor turned from me and started toward the entryway. My heart raced, like it was begging me to tell him to stay. But I just watched him leave.