Nate's tanned fingers trailed along the black ink of his soulmark. He didn't have a name, not like everyone else. Nate had spent his entire life without a soulmark - a rare but not unheard of condition, always looked down upon back before the war. It had made him feel lost, unfinished - but since waking up in the vault a black smudge had spread across his arm and now he felt even worse. It wasn't a name, elegantly dancing across his skin, but it had to be a soulmark. A solid black line.
"Hey bud, you ready to hit the road?"
Nate's eyes snapped up, and the thoughs rushed from his mind as he saw himself reflected in the dark sunglasses perched on Deacon's face. "Uh yeah. Gimme a second." His eyes narrowed, glaring at his own tiny reflection - but then he dropped his head, hands fumbling for his pack.
Their little camp wasn't much - just an open fire in the ruins of an old building, chairs set up as lookout. Still, it was the closest thing to a proper camp they'd had on the trip so far, so Nate supposed he shouldn't fuss. At least it was dry.
Deacon watched Nate as he stuffed a ratty old blanket in his pack - and even if he was busy, Nate didn't miss it. He had been doing that a lot lately; watching him when he thought no one was paying attention. Since it was just them on this mission, he had been doing it constantly. Nate opened his mouth to say something, a question on the tip of his tongue- but what he ended up saying was nothing like he had meant to say. "What do you think of soulmarks?"
Ah, so that thought wasn't forgotten about after all.
Deacon quirked a brow, but his face was as stoic and unreadable as ever. "Soulmarks? Dunno, I don't have one."
"Oh." Nate frowned. The blanket was only half way in the bag but he paused, letting it drop to the floor with a heavy thud. "You don't? Me neither - well I do, but it's just this black smudge and I can't make it out."
Deacon shrugged. "Hey man, be grateful. It's a lot less hassle having to worry about a soulmate. You only have to look out for number one." He leaned back in his chair and the front legs rose up - dangerously close to tipping. "Besides, who has time for love out here? Hey, did I ever tell you about the time this girl and I-"
Nate tuned out the rest, large hands shoving the rest of his junk into the bag. Dissapointment settled deep in his gut as he threw in an old water flask with enough force to pop the cap on. Grumbling, he reached out to fix it.
"Woah dude, what's up with you? I haven't seen you in a mood like this since Cait called you a bitch." There was laughter in Deacon's voice, and Nate didn't have to turn around to know he was grinning.
"It's nothing," Nate replied - and he meant it. There was nothing wrong; so why did he feel like absolute shit? A small sigh left his lips and he shook his head in an attempt to dispel the thoughts. Predictably, it did nothing.
The chair screeched too loudly in the empty space as Deacon stood up, reaching across Nate to grab his own bag. "Well, we better go now if we want to make it back to HQ in time. Or do you want more time to brood?" He laughed, clapped Nate on the back, and disappeared down the crumbling stairs. After a moment he called up, "I'm kidding. You gotta move it."
Nate huffed quietly, eyes focused on the spot Deacon had just vacated. What was wrong? He loved travelling with Deacon - there was no one else in the world he would rather travel with. But lately things were different. Weird. He just couldn't place how.
"Am I going to have to come back up there and haul your ass all the way to Sanctuary? I'll do it." His voice was light and airy - but Nate detected the tiniest impatient sigh in Deacon's words.
He knew Deacon far better than he liked to admit. Than either of them did.
Usually he would have snapped out an equally hilarious comeback, maybe given Deacon some lip - but Nate only hoised his pack onto his shoulders and followed him downstairs.
"I reckon we can make it to HQ by mid-afternoon if we hurry," Deacon spoke as he peeked around the crumbling wall, "and maybe Carrington won't moan at us for being late this time."
Nate's quiet hum was noncommital, the bob of his head less enthusiastic than normal. A part of him realised he should have at least been keeping up pretenses for Deacon's sake - but even just the thought made his head ache.
Nate let his eyes sweep the deserted road outside, searching every nook and cranny for enemies he knew weren't there. They hadn't seen a damn raider or super mutant all day. Usually he wouldn't mind, but he needed something to think about other than Deacon.
After confirming it was safe to leave, the two set off for the Railroad HQ.
"And I swear she took down five deathclaws by herself. Girl was crazy, and probably hopped up on enough Psycho to kill her." Deacon finished his story with a flourish, lips tugging into a wide, gorgeous grin.
Hell, even when Nate felt like shit that grin was enough to make his own lips curve upward. Warmth spread through his chest at the sight - but he shoved it down before it was allowed to bloom. Right, like Deacon was interested in him. Or anyone, for that matter.
"I have to go update Des. Catch you in a bit." Deacon gave Nate's shoulder a pat as he walked past, light enough he barely felt it but enough to send tingles down his back. Then he disappeared into the depths of HQ in search of Desdemona.
Which left Nate alone with his thoughts, surrounded by the bustle of people as they edged around him, no one paying him any mind. Huffing out a deep sigh, Nate found himself dumping his pack on the floor and all but collapsing into the nearest chair. With the weight off his feet and no Deacon chattering into his ear, he finally allowed himself to relax.
"Hey, back already? You were quick!" The voice was muffled over so many others, and the sound of hammering started up in the distance. Even so, Nate knew that voice.
One second of peace and already someone was here. Nate glanced up, dark eyes narrowed - and locked eyes with the smiling face of Tinker Tom. Sighing, he replied, "Deacon was pretty adamant we had to get back quick. Which is weird, because he usually likes to dawdle on that route."
"Maybe it's something you said," Tom joked,and his grin was so wide it was like his face was going to split in two. "He's been acting weird lately, especially when you're around. I'd say he's been replaced by a synth, but Desdemona would kill me. Anyway, Drummer Boy reckons there's something going on between you. Doesn't seem too far fetched."
Nate shot up in his seat, eyes wide and heart stuttering in his chest. "He what?"
Tom rose his voice over the din, "I said, Drummer Boy-"
"I know what you said - but you can't be serious? He better not be spreading rumours." Nate felt his cheeks flush and silently thanked his freckles for hiding the worst of it. At least he hoped they did. With a low groan he dropped his head into his hands.
Tom let out a snort of amusement, but he waved a hand dismissively. "He hasn't said a word to anyone else; but he isn't the first to have considered it, either. Hey, it's none of our business - as long as it doesn't interfere with our work."
If Nate's cheeks were pink before, they were scarlet by the time silence descended on them. He buried his face deeper into his hands, praying to whatever wasteland God that the floor swallowed him up. "There's nothing going on between us."
"Maybe not, but he's more honest around you than he is with anyone. It's something to think about." Tom paused, and through the cracks between his fingers Nate saw him pull something from his pockets. "Now, I have this new concept I'd like to try out, and you're-"
"Sorry Tom, not going to happen! Thanks for the pep talk." Nate waved a hand and hastily pulled himself to his feet. He almost forgot his pack in the rush and had to duck down to get it, knocking shoulders with someone as they walked past. He muttered a quiet "sorry," before ducking somewhere quiet.
The gathering of chairs and tables near Carrington nearly always seemed to be free - and while Nate assumed it was because Carrington hated anyone bothering him while he worked, it didn't stop him from slinking over. He tucked himself into the chair, cheeks still burning, and tried not to think about what Tom had said.
Nate lasted maybe thirty seconds before his mind drifted back to Deacon.
Four days and one excruciating trip back to Sanctuary later, and Nate found himself in a predicament. It seemed that no matter what he tried, Deacon was always on his mind. There was so much to do - the Minutemen had a list a mile long. Things needed fixing, finding or - in the case of a bloodbug nest just outside Red Rocket, destroying.
Yet he always ended up staring into space with Deacon's handsome, sharp features drifting through his brain.
Whcih was why Nate had retreated onto the roof of his old Sanctuary home - now reconstructed into a workshop - to watch the settlers chatting below instead of joining them for dinner. His stomach growled, eager for food, but he ignored it.
With the dark consuming Sanctuary, the lights dotted throughout the settlement were al the brighter, shining in the night like little beacons. Down on the ground Sanctuary looked shabby - practical, but little more than the ghost of what it had been. Up here though, with the lights casting yellow shadows across the houses, it was almost beautiful. Nate figured that despite all of the memories, if he ever settled down again it was going to be here.
Ugh, why was he even thinking about that? He had no right reminiscing or daydreaming about stuff like that, not with so much on his plate. Heaving out a sigh that puffed out white in front of him, Nate rolled his eyes.
A moment later a shadow shifted into view, and then the roof creaked as someone plopped down beside him. "Hey, I thought I'd find you up here. Why aren't you down there, mingling with the people? I thought that was like, you're thing."
Nate tilted his head - but instead of being met by a pair of eyes, Nate saw dark shades. Even at night. He found himself wondering what colour of eyes Deacon had. Where they dark blue like the ocean or a dark, hypnotising green? Or maybe brown, rich and warm.
"Uh, hello? Earth to Nate. You in there?" Deacon waved a pale hand in front of Nate's face.
He blinked, and he almost heard the gears grinding in his own mind. "What?" Great, now he looked like a complete idiot.
"Ugh, you're hopeless - but that's why I love you, man." A smirk tugged at the corner of Deacon's lips. "Here I was, being so sweet and asking if you wanted me to grab you something to eat and you completely ignore me!" He raised a hand to his heart in mock surprise, lips forming a comical scowl.
Nate simply rolled his eyes, a smile of his own reluctantly curling his lips. "I'm not hungry."
"Huh. And here I thought you were always hungry."
With a snort of laughter Nate jabbed an elbow in Deacon's ribs, grinning when he let out a girlish yelp. "Asshole," he muttered without venom.
Laughter rose up from the settlement below; a light, cheerful sound that seemed to echo into the night. Moments later there was a shriek of surprise and a whole chorus of guffaws.
He had almost forgotten there were other people still outside, people that weren't him or Deacon. When they were together the whole world faded into the back of his mind. He glanced down to see Jun, Preston and a number of familiar faces he had no names for.
Preston glanced up, catching Nate's eye with a questioning look. Then his eyes shifted to Deacon and Nate swore he smiled knowingly.
"What's he all smiling for?" Deacon questioned as he leaned so far forward Nate worried he might topple from the roof. "Everyone sure is in a good mood down there."
"Yeah," Nate replied with a shrug, "so what are you doing up here?"
Deacon's wide grin slipped, if only for a moment. "I like it up here. So much quieter than HQ. It's nice to have peace for once." Then he smirked, that brief frown melting away so quickly Nate wondered if it had been real at all. "Besides, you were being all mopey and it was kind of a buzzkill. No one can be depressing with me around."
When he caught Deacon's blinding smile from the corner of his eyes, Nate felt his heart skip a beat. Nate just made a quiet hum, eyes drifting across Sanctuary just so he wouldn't have to look at him. That heavy feeling returned in gut as he gazed across the darkened street. It was was becoming far too familiar; a permanent addition to his everyday life.
"Hey Deacon, can I ask ya something?"
Deacon cast him a look, brow quirked and only just visible above his oversized sunglasses. "Sure, dude. Just don't expect a proper answer."
Nate huffed out a breath. Of course. "Tinker Tom told me something the other day, gave me something to think about. He said-"
"That me and you are just perfect together?" Deacon teased, his brilliant smile dazzling, "I know we are. A match made in heaven!"
Nate's lip curled, irritation stirring in his chest. "You know what? Forget it. I think I will grab something to eat." Nate climbed to his feet, unsteady on the shingled roof, and headed for the rickety wooden steps leading to the workshop inside. He turned at the last minute, guilt settling deep inside of him. "See you later, Deacon."
It wasn't Deacon's fault, not really - Nate knew what he was getting himself into, knew that Deacon never took a single word anyone said seriously. But that didn't make it any easier.
"I am not in love with Deacon!"
Piper grinned knowingly from her perch on Nick's desk, casting him a knowing look that clearly said yes you do, idiot! Beside her, Nick sat in his office chair, hands clasped and head bowed in deep thought.
"Come on Blue, it's obvious to anyone with a pair of eyes and common sense. You get all brooding when he's around. It's kind of tragic."
Nate let out a growl, running a thick hand through dark hair. "I'm telling you guys, it's just a crush. It'll go away in a while."
Nick looked up, his gold eyes glowing faintly in the dim light and Nate swore Nick was staring right into his soul. "Come on kid. I've dealt with enough people in both my lifetimes to know a man in love when I see one. I'm looking at one right now."
Nate, slouched in a dirty armchair across from Nick, felt like a kid getting a row from his parents. "Look," he started cautiously, "it doesn't matter anyway, because I've got some stupid, nonsense soulmark and he said he doesn't have one at all."
"More reason to get with him," Piper pointed out, and her smile was so kind and genuine it was impossible not to feel a little better. "You don't have the world working against you. You're free to date whoever you want without the looming worry of well, what if I find my soulmate..."
Nate couldn't argue that Piper had a point. But every time he thought about it, about the smudged out mark on his wrist and Tom's words and the way Deacon was so unreadable it was impossible. It was too much.
"It's not like Deacon's interested in me, anyway. I'd just embarrass myself."
"You don't know unless you try," Nick said, nodding wisely as if it was the easiest, most obvious thing in the world. "The worst Deacon can do is turn you down."
"But he won't," Piper butted in, casting Nick a quick glare from the corner of her eyes, "he'd be mad to turn you down."
He let out a sigh, head dropping into his hands, and wished none of this had ever happened. "Fine. I'll talk to him. What's the worst that can happen?"
"Hey Charmer! Long time no see!" Drummer Boy appeared the second Nate stepped into HQ, popping up from a crowd of people with no warning. "You've been taking it easy lately."
"I wish. I've been with the Minutemen." Splitting his time between two factions was exhausting, and finding the right balance even more so. It had given him some time away from HQ at least - though his mind still lingered on Deacon even without him there. A small sigh escaped Nate's lips as he rolled his eyes at himself.
Drummer Boy raised a brow in question. "You all right? If you're looking for Deacon, he's with Des. I think there's a new mission - and you've been selected for it." He gestured vaguely somewhere behind them, which wasn't much help at all.
Nate's broad nose scrunched. "Oh. Great. Actually though, I just wanted to talk to him."
"Huh. Well, see you around, man." Drummer Boy waved goodbye, casting Nate one last questioning look but ultimately not commenting.
Nate absently waved back - but he was already beelining for Deacon. It was impossible to make out a single face among the crowd - was the Railroad HQ ever quiet? - but still Nate tried, using his height to his advantage.
Eventually his dark eyes settled on a familiar face and black sunglasses. He stood separate from the crowd, watching Desdemona's retreating form. He seemed to be lost in thought, lips set in a firm line - and just that sight alone was enough to give Nate pause.
All around him people bustled, squeezing past and chatting away. Nate briefly caught snippets of conversation, the mention of a synth up North, a settlement near Goodneighbour - but it all drowned out into white noise as Nate gazed at Deacon.
As Nate weaved his way through the crowd Deacon didn't even look up - and he always noticed everything. This time though he continued to stare off into space, lips curled into that uncharacteristic scowl and hands shoved deep into the pockets of his dirty jeans.
"Hey Deacon, what's up?"
He jumped and let out a yelp that, in any other situation, would have eliticed a grin from Nate.
Instead there was only a hollowness crawling through him. Clearing his throat, Nate tried to cast those thoughts aside. This was Deacon, and drama was his thing. Nothing was wrong.
"So you got the news from Des, then? Man, you got here quick." The foul look slipped away from Deacon and was replaced by a lazy, easy grin just like all of the grins Nate had seen before; but there was something underneath it that he hadn't seen before - there was an uneasy, not-quite-right feeling to the way his lips quirked.
Nate felt his forehead crease into a frown, and this time he didn't try to stop it. "Something's wrong, Deacon. What is it?"
"Aw it's nothing! Des was just having a go at me - you know how it is, we can never do anything right." He nudged Nate's shoulders and the move was so famliar, so normal that Nate almost wondered if he had imagined it all. "But you know what? I'm going to slip spiders into her bed tonight as paypack. Desdemona hates them." He let out a snort of laughter but there was something off about that too.
Getting involved was a bad idea. Terrible, even. Their relationship had been weird enough lately and with what everyone had been saying to him, they were on unsteady ground. Even so, Nate couldn't stop himself from prodding. "Seriously, this isn't about Des or spiders or whatever else. Something's wrong."
"I don't know what you're talking about, dude." Deacon's eyes didn't need to be visible for the eye roll to be painfully obvious. Despite that and the easy smile still plastered across his face, Deacon's shoulders were rigid, hands playing with a loose thread in a way that was meant to be casual but wasn't.
Nate was going to think about why he knew all of these habits later, but not now. His frown deepened, arms folded across his broad chest as he stepped closer to Deacon. "If you can't trust me, after all we've been through together, than who can you trust, Deacon?"
His smile cracked, lips curving down and forehead creasing. Deacon pushed himself off of the wall and mirrored Nate's movements by stepping closer. There was barely inches between them.
Deacon's breath was warm against Nate's skin and he smelled of stale, old-timey cologne that was two hundred years past sell by date. Nate found himself inhaling that scent, losing himself in it as Deacon leaned closer and his heart skipped...
"I'm fine, and you better not suggest otherwise."
Nate froze, Deacon's voice chilling him so thoroughly it was impossible to even think. He had never heard such an edge in his voice, the cold, dangerous tone so unlike him that for a moment Nate wondered if it was really Deacon at all.
But when he stumbled back, eyes drawn up, Deacon's beautiful smile was perfect again. "Hey, Des wants you to speak to her as soon as possible. Why don't you head over? Oh, and let's keep that spider thing between us, yeah?"
Nate opened his mouth to speak but his brain refused, stuttering on a blank. When he finally managed to form a coherent sentence, thoughts catching up with him, Deacon had already disappeared into the crowd.
Nate found himself tracing the marred line of his soulmark, broad fingers running down his arm without conscious thought. Over the last few weeks he had found himself doing it more and more - but the action was much less soothing than it once was.
On the bedroll beside him Deacon slept soundly, curled up and facing Nate. He looked so peaceful, his face relaxed and honest and nothing like when he was awake. It suited him, that childish peace.
It did, however, leave Nate wondering why he had chosen to take first watch, when sitting in the dark only left him with too much time and not enough to do. Except for think, which was never good. He sighed quielty and wrapped the ancient grey blanket closer around his shoulders. It didn't stop the shiver from shaking his shoulders, or the quiet chatter of his teeth.
A combat shotgun lay at his feet, untouched since they lay down, and Nate wished there was something to shoot just so he had something to do. Deacon was so close it was driving him insane, and he had been so weirdly quiet the whole trip that it was starting to creep him out. He ended up wishing for night to he wouldn't have to deal with the thick, awkward tension - and then night came and he wished for morning so he wasn't alone.
What had happened to them? It wasn't just Deacon of course, but Nate didn't let himself dwell on it.
Deacon stirrned in his sleep, rolling over with less grace than a yao gui on jet. One arm flopped out from his bedroll and splayed across the floor - dangerously close to Nate's thigh.
The right thing to do was move, put more space between them - but he didn't. Deacon's hand twitched, fingers brushing against the thick jeans wrapped around Nate's legs, and he didn't do anything about it. even just that light touch felt amazing, warmth spreading across the spot Deacon had touched. Nate really did love making things worse for himself, didn't he? Groaning, he didn't try to stop his annoyance from bubbling up as he yanked his leg away from Deacon's hand.
There was a moment of silence, so thick in the darkness it made Nate shiver - and then Deacon let out a quiet yawn, shattering it completely. "Fuck, what time is it? Time to switch yet?"
Nate flinched at his voice, too loud in the deadly silent house. "Not yet; go back to sleep."
"Aw, but I'm awake now - I might as well take watch. Besides, I gotta pee. Be back in a minute." Deacon disappeared into another room of the decimated house, and he was either immune to the cold or didn't care because he moved so slowly it was almost a crawl.
Nate let himself collapse onto the floor, arms splayed out across the bedroll, and let out a heavy breath. He was going to get to the bottom of this - whatever this was - if it killed him.
Deacon was taking his time, but Nate didn't pay attention to how much time passed. A yawn escaped his lips and it occured to him just how heavy his eyes felt, scratching like they were covered with sandpaper. His eyes slipped closed, mind slipping into unconsciousness-
And then Deacon collapsed back onto his own bedroll with a thud. "Well, I don't know about you, but I'm wide awake now."
Nate was ready to collapse himself, lids slipping closed again - but when his eyes flickered over to Deacon, fixed on those stupid sunglasses, and he knew sleep wasn't an option. He had to fix this now. "Yeah, I could stay up," he replied simply.
"Cool. You want to play cards? I've got a pack somewhere. We could even make it a game of strip poker!" Deacon grinned wide, his teeth far whiter than any post-war teeth had a right to be, and for a moment Nate forgot how to breathe. Deacon ducked down to rummage in his pack, apparently able to see perfectly even through those thick sunglasses.
Nate leaned forward to fumble with a lamp at their feet, and moments later the tiny room was flooded with soft yellow light. It had been a living room once - a nice one, too, if the remnants of gold wallpaper were any indication - but now it was just a crumbling, dusty mess bare of any furniture.
He glanced over, expecting to see a grinning Deacon holding a pack of cards - but he was met with a childish pout and empty hands. "I guess I forgot the damn cards," he said with a huff, crossing his arms across his chest.
Nate pursed his lips, watching the way the light flickered and danced across Deacon's slender face. It was beautiful and almost ethereal, tinged with something not quite real. Which really was just how Nate felt about Deacon most of the time.
His brows furrowed, a small sigh escaping his lips. Time to attempt this whole talking thing again. "I'm too tired for cards anyway, but there's something else I'd like us to do."
"Hm, really? What would that be?"
Biting down on his lower lip, Nate paused. Then, "I want to know why you're being so weird with me."
"This again?" Deacon questioned, and he laughed easy and bright but it wasn't quite right. "You don't give up, do you? I can't decided whether it's my favourite part about you, or the absolute worst. I guess it's both - just like Glory and her stubborness."
"Well I'm not Glory, I'm Nate - and I'm worried about you." Nate tilted his head up, regarding Deacon with what he hoped was a determined expression. He had the feeling he just looked stupid.
Deacon's expression was unreadable, that firm smile never leaving, but his brows creased almost unnoticeably and his shoulders stiffened the longer Nate spoke. He said nothing for a moment, and it was almost as if he was testing Nate, trying to see if he was going to drop it. Then he burst into laughter that seemed to echo off of the ruined walls. "Aw Nate, that's cute! I never took you for the motherly type." An imaginary tear was wiped from his hidden eyes.
As Deacon's laughter melted away, fading into nothing, Nate was left with scarlet cheeks and embarassment churning in his stomach. "You know what?" he snapped, and the words tumbled from his lips without his permission - but once they started they refused to stop, "You're such a goddamn idiot. Is it so impossible to be serious for five minutes, to actually just tell me the fucking truth? I'm worried about you, and about us, and you don't even trust me enough to let me know what's going on. Or maybe you don't care and this whole damn friendship had been a lie. So forget it, I'm done with this." He launched himself to his feet, eyes narrowed into slits. His chest felt hot, pulse racing, heart thudding, anger rising so quickly he would have been horrified with himself he had been just a tiny bit more self aware.
"Uh, Nate-"
"And to think I actually love you. How stupid, right?"
"Wait, love?"
There was no acknowledgement as Nate spun on his heels, no indication he heard or cared that Deacon had spoken - he simply stormed off without even knowing where he was headed.
Deacon didn't call hout or jump up to chase after him - in fact, he was so silent he might as well have not been there at all.
Nate kept moving, his legs making wide, loping strides across the house until he found himself wrapping a hand around the handle to the front door. Suddenly the rage fled, draining from him and leaving him so utterly exhausted his legs gave way. Nate collapsed onto the dirty floor with a gasp - and then the first of the tears began to fall.
It was impossible to know how much time had passed. Forty minutes, two hours or only a handful of minutes?
Nate had stopped crying long ago, but the dried tears still clung to his cheeks, head dropped onto his knees as he sat curled up against the door. He could have left - should have. Yet he didn't.
Footsteps slowly padded over, muffled by decades of dust and grime. They were soft, hesitant, as if they weren't sure whether to approach or not. Eventually they stopped, and then there was only silence again.
It took Nate a moment to lift up his head - and when he did, it took every ounce of his remaining energy. He just wanted to sleep, to forget about this entire shitty day. Oh-
Deacon stood in front of him, back slouched. One hand was stuffed deep in his pocket - the other held a dark mass of... something. He shifted awkwardly and his smile wasn't quite as wide or as genuine as normal. He looked exhausted.
"What do you want?" Nate snapped, but it didn't hold the venom he had intended. Christ, he sounded as shattered as Deacon looked.
Deacon snorted, a slim hand reaching up to ruffle his dark hair - wig? - before it dropped dejectedly back to his side. "I come bearing gifsts," he said simply and flung the object toward Nate.
He caught it with a yelp, hands automatically shooting out to grab the mystery object - only to be assaulted by something thick, warm and... fluffy?
"I brought you a blanket so you don't freeze. Wouldn't want my best friend dying on me." Deacon's voice was so light and rich and familiar. "So your welcome."
Nate just grunted wordlessly as he wrestled with the blanket, wrapping it around his shoulders and all but sinking into the velvety fabric. It almost felt pre-war, they way it brushed softly against his skin. He sighed, letting the warmth envelop him.
"So am I forgiven?" Deacon quirked an eyebrow, clearly going for an easygoing approach - but he didn't make a move to settle down beside Nate, not even to sock him in the shoulder.
Nate felt his stomach clench, fresh tears threatening to spring to his eyes - but he blinked them back furiously. "No Deacon, you're not."
"Aw come on!"
"You've been acting weird this entire way back - and before that, too - and you can't even tell me why? If it's something I've done, I'd like to at least know what it is." Nate dropped his gaze, staring at a frayed hole in the corner of the blanket. Maybe if he wished hard enough, this entire thing would turn out to be a dream.
He expected a snarky comeback, some stupid quip or change of subject - but instead Deacon just huffed out a sigh that sounded so tired. Like everything he had ever felt was in that one breath. "I guess you deserve the truth." After a moment he crouched beside Nate - tugging the blanket from his hands to pull it over the both of them.
Nate quirked a brow, lips forming a frown as he peered at Deacon through the darkness. "Who are you, and what have you done with the real Deacon?" he questioned - and a surprise little snort of laughter escaped him.
Deacon smiled back, but it was small and hesitant - so unlike him that it stopped Nate's laugh in its tracks. "I thought I was supposed to be the wiseguy in this relationship?"
Nate's heart skipped at that one little word - relationship - but it was just a saying, wasn't it? Even so, Nate found himself smiling despite the uneasiness settling in his stomach. "Just trying to lighten the mood," he replied softly.
"Which is my job," Deacon quipped back, "but for once, I'm going to be real with yo, man. You deserve that much."
Nate didn't respond - but his back straightened, head tilted with rapt attention. Finally Deacon was being serious; something he never thought was even possible.
"I uh, guess I have been kind of weird around you, but it's been for a good reason." Deacon paused as if to think, slender hands tugging at a fray in the blanket.
It was such a genuine, honest motion and Nate found it impossible to take his eyes from the way Deacon's hands moved.
Until he spoke again, quietly, voice uneasy. "Remember how I told you I didn't have a soulmark? That's not true. I have one - Nate Carver."
Nate's head shot up, eyes wide. A million questions erupted in his mind - and at the forefront he asked himself is Deacon messing with me? But no, not even Deacon had it in him to make up something like this, not after Nate's confession.
Oh. He had really said it, hadn't he? In a fit of rage he had admitted his love for Deacon - something he had never even said to himself - and now this was some stupid pity thing, a vain attempt to make things right.
"Nate? Shit man, I'm being honest with you for the first time like ever and you zone out on me?"
Nate blinked, dark eyes flickering up to Deacon. A flush bloomed across his cheeks and he silently thanked the darkness for hiding it. "Sorry," he muttered quietly, "I just..." There weren't any words in the world to describe the way his stomach flipped, or the way his heart stuttered in his chest, or the way he wanted to hug Deacon and never let go but he also really, really wanted to punch him. Eventually he huffed out a sigh, willing his rapid heartbeat to calm. "Why didn't you every say anything?"
"It was for your own sake, dude. You don't want to be soulbonded to someone like me."
Nate scowled, anger bubbling up to the surface - but Deacon's voice, so quiet and unlike he had ever heard it, stopped him in his tracks. What did he mean? "Come on Deacon, why would you assume that? You know me and I... well, actually, I guess I don't know you at all, do I?"
"No," Deacon replied softly, "you don't want to. I never said anything because I figured your soulmark wouldn't be my name - at least not the name I use now - but then you said you didn't even have a name at all. Even our bond decided I'm not worth it."
This wasn't Deacon - not the cheerful, wise-cracking idiot Nate knew - and maybe, just maybe, this was the real Deacon; the one behind all of the stupid jokes and irritating flirting.
"Well, maybe our soulbond has decided it doesn't want us, but I do. There's nothing you can have done that's so shitty I'm going to stop talking to you."
"Sure, you say that now,"
"Hey, shut up a second and let me talk, okay?" Nate interjected, but not unkindly. He had the feeling that no matter how well Deacon was keeping it together, it was a tenuous thing. Letting out a shaky breath, he continued, "you can tell me all about it, if you want to. Skip the bits you don't want me to know and save them for when you're ready. I just want us to be good again, you know? Even if we don't end up..." The word together was on the tip of his tongue, desperate to leave his lips - but when his gaze flickered over to Deacon, he couldn't say it.
Deacon laughed; it was breathy and timid, but then he flashed Nate a grin and it was like his old self was returning. "You think I don't want us to be together? Soulmates or not, there's no denying what I want. I mean come on, look at you!" He gestured wildly to Nate, hand flickering down his entire body. "You're hot. And crazy enough to keep coming back for more solo missions with me."
"Because I'm in love with you, dumbass," Nate shot back - and this time the words slipped from his lips effortlessly. It felt so right.
Deacon's smile dropped, but it didn't hold the same sadness it did before. "Listen, Nate. I know I'm no good at all this," he said, waving a hand as if to indiciate what that was, "but I want this more than anything. You really need to hear what I have to say, though. My life before the Railroad, it was pretty awful. I did terrible things, and if we're going to do this, going to acknowledge our soul bond and be together, you need to know."
Sucking in a breath, Nate only nodded. He didn't trust himself to speak, not when his stomach rolled uneasily and anxiety wriggled under his skin. The reveal of soulmates was supposed to be exciting, joyous - but Nate's palms were damp with sweat, his mind racing with questions he wasn't sure he wanted the answer to. It would have been so easy to chicken out, so say no thanks and pretend like this had never happened.
Instead, Nate curled up by Deacon's side and said, "lay it on me, then."
They sat, huddled under the warmth of the blanket and Deacon told him about his past; about the UP Deathclaws and his own part in the murder of a man that may - or may not - have been a synth. And he told Nate about his wife, the love of his life but not his soulmate, and how she was killed by that very same gang. And then how Deacon himself had single handedly butchered the entire gang - and how that, in the end, led him to the Railroad and his new life.
By the time the sun rose, weak yellow light filtering through the broken windows of the little house, they had both fallen silent. Nate drifted in and out of sleep, tucked neatly against Deacon's side, but the heavy knowledge of Deacon's words weighed on his mind.
Eventually his joints stiffened and the aching pain was too much. He shifted gently, cautious not to jostle the sleeping Deacon, and edged himself out of his embrace. He felt his joints pop as he clambered to his feet, and suddenly he felt much older than his age. Well, technically he was over two centuries old.
Deacon stirred but didn't wake, a quiet yawn leaving his lips. Nate smiled fondly down at him but let him sleep in peace, instead padding over to the makeshift camp they had abandoned earlier.
Their bedrolls and packs lay where they had been left and the lamp had long extinguished itself. The bedroll seemed to call to him, the promise of a decent sleep practically begging him to collapse and pass out. They needed to get going though, if they wanted to stay on schedule. Desdemonda waited for nothing - not even for two men falling in love.
At least, Nate loved Deacon. He was willing to wait for Deacon to fall in love with him too.
He crouched to grab his pack, wincing as the zip snagged on a loose thread. He wiggled it, the contents clattering together and it sounded far too loud in the early morning quiet. Hopefully he wouldn't end up waking Deacon-
"Morning."
Nate practically sprang to his feet, a soft swear slipping from his lips. When his eyes locked onto Deacon's though, he froze.
Deacon's eyes. Without shades. Gorgeous, dark blue eyes clearer than the ocean itself. Eyes Nate could have gotten lost in.
"Jeez, Nate, no need to freak out on me." Deacon smirked and his hands slipped up to place the shades onto his face.
Nate had seen his face though, completely bare - and even if it was only for a second, he knew that meant something big. Warmth pooled in his chest, a newfound softness for Deacon and God, it was so pathetically mushy but he didn't even care. With a beaming grin of his own, Nate pulled him in for a hug. He dwarfed him, thick arms wrapping around Deacon with ease.
Deacon froze, arms held rigidly by his side - but slowly and unsurely he roped a slender arm around Nate's waist in return. It was hesitant and awkward - but it was a start.
When Nate broke away his cheeks were scarlet, but the grin on his face was spreading with every passing second. "I know things have been weird between us for a while, but I'm glad you dragged me on this mission. And I'm glad you told me about, well, everything. Thanks for trusting me."
Deacon cracked a grin, a laugh in his throat - but there was something so sincere in the way he nodded, head ducking down as if in embarrassment. "Just don't expect this kind of heartfelt bullshit from me all the time, okay? I have a reputation."
"One I'd never want to ruin," Nate shot back with a chuckle. Just like that everything was back to how it was - how it should have been all along. Except maybe just a little bit better.
"We should probably pack up and go," Deacon spoke - but he didn't make a move to start. Instead he stepped closer, lips pursed, and took a gentle hold of Nate's hands, "but first-"
Nate felt Deacon's lips against his - soft and hesitant and not at all how he had imagined a kiss with Deacon to be. His lips were chapped and dry, Nate's probably the same, but as Nate leaned into the kiss he realised how perfect it was. He let out a little sigh, wrapping one sturdy arm around his waist, and lost himself to the kiss.
Deacon pulled away first, face flushed and grinning madly. "Man, I've wanted to do that since forever."
"Me too," was all Nate managed to stutter out. If Deacon was blushing, how red was he?
"Now, let's pack!"
Deacon spun with such abruptness he wobbled on his feet, spinning away from Nate so quickly he had to wonder if Deacon was hiding his face on purpose. Nate watched as Deacon grabbed up his pack, haphazardly fumbling with the bedroll as if nothing had happened, as if they hadn't just kissed. But, he knew, that's just how Deacon was - and that was all right.
He realised after a moment of watching Deacon like a lovestruck puppy, that the Railroad were going to have an abolute riot with this piece of juicy gossip. Honestly, Nate wasn't sure he cared.