Characters: John Hancock, Male Sole Survivor, Nick Valentine

Relationships: John Hancock/M!Sole

Tags: Slash, Pre-Slash, Gen, OCD!Hancock, Fluff, Acceptance, Ghoul

Summary: In the end it was acceptance that did it. That made him fall in love with Cory.

A/N: This piece was written for the Fallout kink meme and for once it's not smutty, it's cute and fluffy lol

The original prompt was as follows: So, I found this: post/136574587424/hancock-is-an-adorable-neat-freak-okay-its-canon And I need fic about it? Either mild neatness needs or full blown OCD, gimme Hancock with a penchant for everything in it's proper place. Shippy or friendship or whatever and whatever scenario you can think up, but Hancock vs a disorderly world.

The first time he noticed it was when they entered an old hospital. Hancock muttered something about the place needing Mister Handy. Cory hadn't thought anything of it until he turned around to see the ghoul rearranging some junk meticulously on some old shelving. He raised an eyebrow and shook his head. All his companions had little quirks, and while he had thought previously Hancock's was his wit, maybe this weird - need for things to be just so was it.

The second time was back at base. Hancock had insisted he would put away their spoils from the most recent trip. Cory had brushed him off at first, but he had rather desperately, almost begged him to let him do it. He relented and Hancock took the bag from his hands, disappearing into the workshop. He didn't reappear for the rest of the day.

"So you noticed it, hmmm?"

Cory had left Sanctuary to see Nick about a case they were working on. Offhandedly he mentioned Hancock's - quirk. "Yeah, at first I didn't really think anything of it, but now -"

Nick smirked, "He's always been like that, tries to hide it, but once he gets to know you a bit he relapses into his neat freak ways."

"It's like he's OCD about it."

"I suppose you could call it that, yeah, It's nothing to really worry about, just - don't let him get drunk when things aren't his way." Nick got up from the desk and escorted him to the door.

Cory gave him a worried look, "Why?"

"It's nothing really." He gently pushed him out the door.

"Nick why?" The door shut in Cory's face. "Damn!"

He was just finishing up welding the last piece to his suit when he heard it. Muttering followed by some muted banging. He kicked all of the excess scrap into a pile and turned off the welding torch and put it down next to his mask. Cory picked his way carefully through his vegetables to the front of his house, the afternoon sun warm on his back. He stopped short, jaw dropping.

The entire contents of his house was in the middle of the street.

"John!" He walked into his living room, "What the hell man?!"

Hancock swung around to look at him, silly grin plastered on his face.

Crap. He's drunk as a skunk.

"Just rearranging some furniture love."

He sighed, the pet name immediately defusing his annoyance. "What can I do to help?"

Hours later Hancock was curled up against Cory on the couch. Everything was in a different spot and he seemed to be finally content with it all.

"'m sorry love." He muttered, almost distraught.

"For what hon?"

"Bein' weird."

He smiled fondly, stroking the velvet of John's jacket. "You're not weird John. It's just a little quirk, it's cute really."

Hancock snorted, "It ain't 'little'." There was a pause. "It's like an itch 'n' I just have to scratch it, ya know? It ain't all the time, just gets the better o' me some days. I'm bat shit."

"Nah you ain't, we all have out little things that don't make sense. Take our friends for example - Piper has to have an even number of bullets in her pack. It drives her insane otherwise. MacCready has to have exactly ten stims in his possession at all times otherwise he completely freaks. Nick has an unconscious thing where he flexes his hand when he's thinking, Cait can't say the word toast without giggling - I'm still at a loss as to why. Hell, Dogmeat barks at street signs - like - every single street sign. You just like to be neat. It ain't a crime."

He sniffed, "Feels like one."

Cory squeezed him tightly, "I'll tell you a secret. Before the bombs, I had this weird thing that I couldn't help. The sound on the TV or the radio had to go up in fives. If Nora changed the volume to say seventeen I'd have to put it on either fifteen or twenty, otherwise it would drive me crazy."

Hancock snorted, "That's mental."

He sniggered, "See, I'm just as bat shit as you."

Hancock smiled up at him. "Cory?"

"Yeah?"

"Thanks."

"You're welcome toots."

The next time Cory saw him do it they were in a Red Rocket, east of the city, Hancock began picking up the plates on the floor. He smiled fondly and started to pick up the old bottles, gathering them in his arms. Cory spotted a vase that had been knocked off the counter, he lent down to pick it up and placed it back up where it belonged.

When he looked up John was staring at him.

"I love you Cory."

He nearly dropped the things in his arms, "What?"

Hancock dusted off his hands walking towards him, "I love you."

Cory's heart skipped into double time, he grinned, "I love you too."

Hancock took the bottles from Cory's arms, crowding him into the wall, grinning mischievously, "Cleaning the Commonwealth can wait."