Oh fuck. The words were etched onto his skin in an elegant scrawl, just small enough to fit on his wrist. Hancock sighed, tapping his finger against his desk irritably. It would have been easier to figure out who hadn't thought that while looking at him. His black eyes narrowed accusingly at the offending words, wondering if it had been a positive or negative thought. Was his soulmate scared of him? Did they realize who he was and panic? Did they even know he was their soulmate? The questions had plagued him since he looked down and noticed the small lettering; his loud cursing had worried Fahrenheit enough she'd come stomping in to see what the issue was. When she figured it out, she'd just snorted in amusement and said, "At least you know you've met them, now."
Two weeks later, he found another exclamation tattooed on his ruined skin, scribbled into the other wrist in a weirdly symmetrical way. Oh shit. He'd laughed that time, cackling so hard his ribs hurt at his new tattoos. Whoever his soulmate was, they were definitely his type, at least. The words began appearing more and more frequently, scattering over his skin like a long, drawn-out story and he couldn't wait to show them to his love when he finally managed to figure out who was thinking about him.
They'd moved on from the vulgarity in the beginning to more affectionate things, but the one that almost broke his heart was the one that was obviously incomplete. It had appeared on his inner arm, and he'd been aching since he saw it. I wish I could–
Hancock hadn't even known you could halt a thought appearing on your soulmates skin, so the little dash that discontinued the thought was a surprise, but he'd still understood the general idea from the other affectionate scribbles covering his skin. It was obviously someone who he'd been spending enough time with now that they'd found themselves silently fawning over him. He had yet to figure out who it was, from all the drifters that had been through Goodneighbor lately; not even mentioning the few poor souls he'd had locked up in the basement of the state house for questioning about the fuckers trying to cause his people problems. The idea that his soulmate was one of the people they'd been torturing for weeks sent a chill down his spine that he tried to ignore. Surely he would have found more negative thoughts if that were the case.
"Hancock!" The familiar voice of the vault dweller who'd taken up temporary residence in his good city came skipping in, grinning ear-to-ear at him despite the frown marring his features. Often, he found himself forgetting her name, and had taken to calling her a series of pet names to disguise it. She was a friendly little thing, but straight-laced as straight-laced got and to say she made him uncomfortable would be an understatement.
Just go away. He regretted the thought when he saw her genuine smile, feeling guilty. If he hadn't been so caught up trying to figure out the mystery of his soulmate, he wouldn't have minded her visit as much. After all, he was a people person. Her head was tilted slightly as she examined an old painting on the wall to her left, leaving him free to roll his eyes a bit after her next words.
"So I cleared out those super mutants that had taken up residency outside Goodneighbor; I just thought you'd want to know." The fact she sought out his approval was mildly irritating, but at the same time a bit endearing. She was obviously trying to impress him, for whatever reason. Maybe she was looking for a job.
"Well look'et you." Hancock drawled, forcing a smirk onto his face. The soft pink tint of her cheeks was highlighted by her wild red curls, making it stand out just that much more. Pulling out a pouch of bottle caps he tossed it to her, watching a strangely blank look cross her features as she caught it from the air. It was gone as fast as it was there, and after a fervent thank you and hesitant goodbye, he was left to ponder his mystery soulmate once more.
What did I do? The words burned into his retinas as they slowly scrawled across his hand, and something inside him clicked. No fucking way. The thought crossed his mind about the same time, Fine, whatever, fuck you too then. appeared on his palm and he knocked his chair over in his hurry to catch up to the little vault dweller who had been breezing in and out of his office for the last month. In hindsight, it was obvious. Her wide-eyed look when she met him the first time; her constant, bullshit excuses every time she popped into his office. He'd been so caught up in staring at the words on his skin he hadn't even paid attention to the little tells that should have given her away and to say he felt stupid was the understatement of the century.
Hancock knew she was leaving, even before he caught sight of her walking out the doors of Goodneighbor. Promptly following her in a very un-mayor-like sprint, he tried desperately to remember her name. Erica? Anna? God, he was the worst.
"Hey!" He shouted despite the fact they were now in enemy territory, watching her stiffen a bit before speeding up her walk just enough it was noticeable. "Hold up!" Finally, she did, folding her arms over her chest and he flinched when he recognized the words, Just go away. scrawled into her neck just below her jaw – visible even with that stupid vault suit. How had he missed that appearing? Thinking back, he realized she was looking at the painting at the time it must have appeared, effectively masking it from him.
Her blue eyes were hard, and her normally friendly face was painfully impassive; he found himself wondering how many negative thoughts were scribbled into her skin. The fact such an unloving phrase was now tattooed where the world could see it hurt him more than she probably realized, and he wondered what she thought about it. Everyone would whisper about what she'd done to make her soulmate think such a terrible thing – such an unthinkable thing – and the idea she would be judged and scrutinized just because he was a stupid asshole made his skin crawl.
"What, Hancock?" Now that those steely eyes were on him, his nerve seemed to evaporate. What was he supposed to say? "Hi, I'm John, I'm a complete ass."? Horror rolled through him as the thought peeked out from under her collar; she followed his gaze and her blank expression shifted to sometime akin to fear, actually breaking his heart this time. She unzipped the top of her suit just enough to shift it off her shoulder and he winced at the amount of words covering her visible skin, praying they weren't all bad. After a moment of her twisting awkwardly to read the thought, he saw the corner of her lip threatening to curl up in amusement and breathed a quiet sigh of relief.
"Hi, I'm Annie, your soulmate." She responded and he felt a spike of guilt in his stomach that he hadn't even remembered her name.
"I realized that 'bout the time I got these." Holding up his right hand, he grinned hesitantly at her. A frown marred her otherwise pleasant features – now that he was looking at her, he saw that she was his soulmate clear as day and wondered why he'd missed it to begin with – and she reached out, taking his hand gently. Annie rubbed her thumb over the words and he watched as they disappeared under her touch. She wiped away the words in his palm with a little more force than necessary, and by the time she was done he found himself in awe.
Reaching out, he gripped her neck loosely and started scrubbing at her skin to remove the offending phrase. "Just go away" – what the Hell was wrong with him? He couldn't believe he'd actually thought something so cruel about his soulmate. Annie was pointedly not looking at him, and he took a moment to make sure the words were completely wiped away before stepping back and looking into her now tear-filled eyes.
"I'm sorry." It was all he could come up with, but bless her little vaultie heart, she gave him a nervous, forced smile.
"Not all soulmates like each other," She choked out, shrugging as she fought to hold on to her impassive look. "You'd think it was some impulsive need to love each other, the way people talk about it, but I've met lots of people who didn't end up with their soulmates. I mean, I didn't even think I had one when I married Nate, a-and–"
"It's not that I don't like you, sunshine."
"Annie." Hancock flinched when she offered her name, as if he'd forgotten it again already. How many times had she done that casually and he'd outright ignored it?
"Annie, s'not that I don't like you, okay? S'not like that." Then what's it like? scribbled along his thumb and down his wrist as he cupped her face in his hands, trying to comfort her and not sure how because he'd definitely made it seem like he didn't like her. The red-head tried to sneakily wipe the words away as she placed a hand over his, having seen them appear from the corner of her eye, and he felt a grin threatening to split his face. Maybe she really was his type.
"Look, can we jus' head back home 'nd talk about this somewhere safe?" He was stalling, trying to come up with a good excuse for his hurtful behavior, but she agreed after a moment of examining his features. When he took a step back she breezed past him, heading to Goodneighbor, and he ignored the way she angrily wiped at her eyes because that was the polite thing to do. Man, was he the worst possible fuck up, or what?