The Missing Piece (Hancock x f!Sole Survivor)

Chapter 1: Just A Tingle

The night air is cool against Hancock's overheated skin. The sweet taste of mentats dances all over his rough tongue while he's leaning on the balustrade of his balcony. The streets below him are mostly empty except for only a few loner souls wandering around.

Behind him, he can hear his office door getting closed silently, careful not to attract attention. John has a smile on the remains of his lips as he lights up the cigarette. It's not like everyone in the Old State House heard him doing that gal just a few minutes ago.

There was no need to go outside for a smoke, but John wanted to give that woman some privacy to get dressed again and the said toy's just left. Lover would be a too hard word for that lass, what was her name again? Never mind, toy is as a fitting name as any other and John doesn't intend to learn her actual name anyway. It was just a one night stand, like always. No strings, just hurried sex for the sake of the release.

The ghouls smile slowly fades and he takes a long drag, the gleam of the cigarette the only light source up there. The smoke fills his lungs and is kept in there for a long moment, before getting exhaled through John's broken and scarred nostrils.

On the street below, he can see the gal from before hurrying to the hotel. Poor thing probably doesn't want to be seen escaping the Old State House this late in the night. John's eyes linger on her as she makes her way. Red ginger hair, freckles on her nose, cute but other than that? Meh. Nothing that would keep his interest for long. And obviously she doesn't want a second run herself, if her lowered gaze and fast steps are any indicator.

In times past this would have hurt him, no one wants to be known as a ghoul fucker, even if the ghoul was the damned mayor of the damned city they were living in. But John doesn't really complain in his position. After all, quite a lot of folks found their way into his bed regardless.

Sure, all of them were seeking something - power, caps, chems, you name it. But John's not naive, he knows they are always trying to gain something from him with sex. And that's something he can use for his own advantage. He'd sleep with them and wave them out, simple as that. With no shame or regret really. Most of the time he doesn't even bother to get undressed, removed sash and open pants are enough to get the job done.

After another long drag, John tries to think of something else, there is no point in indulging in reminiscences of past releases. Almost automatically his eyes wander down to his left underarm. His scarred skin, all grooves and ridges ruined the name that used to be there long ago.

For whatever reason the very spot of what used to be pitch black letters doesn't stop tingling. He first noticed it when things got heated between him and the little toy a while ago. His eyes instantly went to her arm. Veronica. John didn't know if should laugh or feel pity for her.

After all this years he didn't give one single fuck about soulmates. Why should he? Even if there was someone with his name on their arm, he'd scare them right away, no doubt. He knows what he looks like and if he is honest with himself, that's the main reason for staying dressed when fucking gals he most likely won't remember the next morning.

Damn, he should have taken jet instead of mentats, he is not in the mood of overthinking this bullshit, for stupid emotions. And he doesn't believe in finding his mate anyway. For a soulmate you actually have to harbor a soul and John is more than certain he's lost his in Diamond City. Well, if you are believing in the spiritual part of that, which he doesn't also. The tingling is most likely just a symptom of his drug abuse, it has to be.

With the burning smoke captured between his lips, he traces the line of where the name used to be with his free hand. Sotiria. What a fucking odd name. Never, not once has he ever met someone with that name. Sure, better a rare one than those everyone seems to call their kids nowadays, like Lisa, Mike - or John. Fuck, how many gals and guys has he seen with his name on their arm? And fucking allways he felt hope inside him rising. Pathetic.