His Main Squeeze

by Deliverer

Hancock has been through a lot. So has Fahrenheit. They have issues, the both of them. Those issues are deep seeded but they also mirror one another. They couldn't deal with those issues alone so fate teamed them up. Maybe together they can tackle what they couldn't alone. Where it leads is anyone's guess, but come what may they'll always have one another. They'll be sure of it.

2. Trust

.

Trust

Fahrenheit sat across from Hancock, the two of them locked in a game of chess fresh off taking care of Finn for hassling a vault dwelling newcomer to Goodneighbor. John was a good player, she'd grant him that. That told her he had to have been dabbling in it for a while. She suspected since his youth or childhood. At least it meant a challenge, she noted to herself before moving her next piece. "I'll be heading out in a while. See what's going on in town. Figure out who has a problem that needs solving and who's being a troublemaker," she remarked. He hummed in response before moving his own piece. "I'll update you," she added after another long moment of debating her next move. She moved the piece. "Checkmate," she said. He cursed in a whisper. She couldn't help the secret smirk pulling at her lips. His ultimate goal in this game was to finally win against her, she knew. She wished him luck in that, though she doubted it would come any time soon. She rose from the couch. "Do you need anything?"

"A way into your mind so I can finally beat you at this game," he replied wryly.

"That's not happening," she answered, heading for the door.

"Watch yourself out there Fahra. It's getting late and the newest batch of drifters ain't so friendly. Gonna have to keep tabs on them for a while. Least until they piece together how we do things around here and who's boss," he warned, examining the board to try and figure out where he'd gone wrong. It must work for him, because each time she played the man he seemed to get better.

"I always watch my back," she answered before leaving.

Fallout

Fahrenheit started her rounds at the Hotel Rexford. She was promptly given a job by Fred Allen. Almost immediately afterward, Rufus Rubins asked for her help. She didn't have to run their little errands, of course, but the locations they had mentioned were too close to Goodneighbor, and by extension Hancock, for comfort. It was guaranteed they were occupied by Raiders, Gunners, Mutants, or Ghouls, which meant they needed to be dealt with. It shouldn't be anything too difficult, so she planned to go alone. Hancock wouldn't be enthusiastic about the idea, he never was when someone he cared about put themselves at unnecessary risk, but he wouldn't stop her either. He may even have a job for her of his own.

Sure enough, John was less than impressed when she stopped in and updated him, telling him she was heading out to deal with them, but he didn't say much about it. Not that he ever needed to. The evidence was in his expression. His frown and his eyes and the way he carried himself as he watched her pack away some essentials. Healing items, ammo, food and water, etc. She planned to set out tomorrow early morning. "Anything else of concern?" she asked finally, looking directly at him.

He pursed his nonexistent lips, obviously weighing the pros and cons of answering her, then sighed. "I'll tell you what. I got reconnaissance needs. There's a lot of weird talk coming in about a place called the Pickman Gallery. It's Raider territory up there, but they've been quiet. Like, uncomfortable post-coitus quiet?" Fahrenheit narrowed her eyes a bit in annoyance, glaring at him. He stared evenly back, feigning obliviousness. There was dead silence between them for a moment before he continued on like nothing happened. "Snoop it out and give me the word. Nothing else, Fahra. That ain't a job you're handling alone. In fact, better you don't handle it at all. I've got a plan in the works for dealing with it. Just depends on what the deal is."

He didn't actually have a plan, but saying he did would get her to let the idea go he figured. She maybe would scout it out, if she did anything at all, but precious little else. He'd figure out an actual plan later.

"What else can you tell me about the Pickman Gallery?" she asked.

"Nothing. That's why I'm getting you to go out there," he answered.

"I'm on it," she said.

"Cool. Be careful. Find out what's really going on there if you can, but don't engage," Hancock replied.

"Fine," she agreed.

"And watch your back, Fahra. Fred Allen wanted you to check out Hallucigen Inc? I hear the Gunners have their sights on the place. If they're on a mission, don't interfere," he warned.

"I know the rules of the Wastes, John. Don't worry," she replied, lifting her hand in something of a wave as she left to go to her room.

Fallout

The next morning she left without even a goodbye. He hated when she did that and she regretted it almost immediately, but she put the concern to the side and went on her way. Her first order of business was the Shamrock Taphouse and the drink machine. It promised to be the easiest task to complete. After sleeping on the matter, she was on the fence about scouting either the Pickman gallery or Hallucigen Inc at all. While she figured out whether she would or not, she could at least get one thing on her list done.

Raiders were swarming the vicinity of the Shamrock Taphouse, so that was an annoyance she could do without. She half wondered if it would be worth the effort. Especially with super mutants and mirelurks so close to them. Considering her options, she decided to go for it. After all, supermutants, raiders, and mirelurks all in such close proximity to one another? That could be twisted to her advantage.

Luring the mutants to the raiders proved a useful tactic, then leading the lurks to the mutants. While all of them were busy fighting one another, she was busy slipping into the taphouse. It wasn't the end of the conflict, the place was crawling with still more raiders, but she could handle those odds and did so. Finding 'BUDDY' was a nonissue. Getting him back to Goodneighbor in one piece was a little trickier, especially when she detoured to check out Hallucigen. One look at the place and she decided to leave it to someone else. Gunners were odds she wasn't up for taking on alone, despite their shaky truce with Goodneighbor. Besides, the less time she spent away from Hancock, the less chance he had of ODing.

She returned to him in the early afternoon, after informing Fred Allen the Gunners were above her pay grade and telling him to get someone else to handle it. Hancock was just putting away the chess set. He must have been studying last night's game since he got up. Full points for determination. "Hallucigen's a no-go for me. Haven't gotten to scouting out Pickman Gallery yet," she said.

"Forget the Gallery," Hancock brushed off. "Handed it off to someone else anyway."

She frowned a bit at this, but she got why he had done it. His telling her to forget about it was his way of begging her not to risk it without actually begging. As far as he had known, she was already on her way to the gallery. He knew it was likely the job would be dangerous and was far more willing to doom a stranger than he was to doom a friend. His sending someone else to do the same mission he'd sent her to do was basically him sending her a sacrifice of canon fodder. He had probably banked on the sap tackling the task immediately and showing up in time to serve as a meat shield for her.

"You could come with me," she offered, tone gentler than usual.

"Hmm…" he replied absently, putting the chess board back in place. "Temptin', real temptin', but I've got some stuff I gotta take care of first," he continued with a shrug. "Bobbi No-Nose has crossed a line. Figures she's planned the perfect heist, breaking into my strongroom and robbing me blind. Now can you believe that? Practically took the woman in," he said.

"She honestly thought she could get away with it?" Fahrenheit replied in disbelief.

"I know, right? To be fair she almost did it too, but while you were gone a few little birds started singing," Hancock replied. "I'm putting it in your capable hands. Make her regret backstabbing me."

Fahrenheit smirked. "With pleasure," she replied. She'd never really liked Bobbi No-Nose all that much anyway. For a while there the woman had had eyes for Hancock, and Fahrenheit would bet good caps that John had played around with her in turn. Making Bobbi hurt? That would be the highlight of her day. She turned, leaving to gather some people for backup.

Fallout

When he sent her out to confront Bobbi No-Nose, there was this twisting feeling in his gut that he couldn't shake. It felt like she wasn't going to come back. He hated that feeling. He hated even more that he'd never experienced it before. He hated beyond hatred that it wouldn't go away. After she left he didn't leave the couch. He had no plans to either, until he knew what had gone down at that storehouse. Various rumors filtered through to him, each one more conflicting and confusing than the last, each one causing his stomach to twist more and more. He felt almost sick at it. The drug he'd been considering taking sat untouched in his hand. He stared at it like he didn't even register it.

"They haven't gotten there yet."

"They're there and waiting in ambush."

"Bobbi and co never showed up. Must have taken a different route."

"They caught the crew alive."

"Fahrenheit got the drop on them."

"They got the drop on Fahrenheit."

Dammit, why couldn't his little 'birds' make up their f-ing minds?! He cursed, tossing the drug down onto the table and balling his hands together, bowing his head low and closing his eyes as he waited for news.

"She was killed, sir…" a voice said, and an icy chill ran through his whole body, his breath catching in his throat. Slowly he lifted his head to stare at the most recent informant. He couldn't quite comprehend the words he'd heard. "At least, that's the latest report. There was a showdown in the warehouse. A Vault Dweller was with them. He shot her down like a dog."

Dead silence. "Where's the proof?" Hancock finally found his voice to ask.

"None. Lot of gunfire heard, though, and when it all cleared up and everything got real quiet, the vault dweller walked out. No one else did," the guard answered. Silence. "Sir?"

"Get out," Hancock said before the guard had even finished the word. The man was still, surprised at the reply. "Get out!" he repeated in a shout, pointing at the door. "And the minute the vault dweller's seen walking up to Goodneighbor, get me!" After a moment the guard turned and stiffly left looking nervous. Hancock turned back to the drug sitting on the table untouched, and part of him wanted it so, so bad… But the rest of him couldn't even find the will to pick it up… The minute word came to him that the dweller was on his way, he got up and went out to meet him...

Fallout

The Vault Dweller walked into town, MacCready at his back. Hancock felt his eyes darken when he saw the merc, and Mac stiffened looking acceptably unnerved. Smart of him, because if he had been in on this, that was a fourth name added to his hit list. Kid muttered something about needing a drink, looking nervous, and parted company with the vault dweller who'd killed Fahrenheit.

"How you doin' killer?" he menacingly asked said dweller, arms folded tight around himself as he leaned against the stone wall. He practically spat out the last word. "Arms tired from all that digging? You know, my strongroom is surprisingly empty now…"

"So you know," the vault dweller answered. "Who told you?"

"I'm the mayor of this town. Who wouldn't tell me? I had a line leading right out my front door," he answered.

"I made a mistake," the man calmly but quietly said.

"You're damn right you did," he snapped. "No one steals from me. But I gotta admit, you and Bobbi pulled one hell of a job. Almost makes me wish I had done it myself. Now if it was just the money, I'd rough you up, break a few bones, and then we'd be square once you paid me back. But you killed Fahrenheit. That means blood for blood." The vault dweller stiffened ever so slightly, seemingly caught a bit off guard by the accusation. "Fortunately for you, I'm short on muscle, and Bobbi was the brains. You track her down, put a knife in her, and get back my, let's say, one-thousand caps, and we'll pretend this was all a misunderstanding," he said. He was lying, he had every intention of putting this mofo in the ground the minute he came back, but more flies with honey and all that.

"Are you nuts? There's no way all that was worth one-thousand caps!" the dweller protested.

"No, it wasn't, but you blowing a hole in my strongroom and killing my bodyguard… You can bet that smooth little face of yours that made up the rest," he said darkly. His voice had wavered on the word 'killing'. It was subtle but it happened, and he hated that it did. He pretended it hadn't. "In fact, I'll come with you to take care of Bobbi."

"Why would you want to come with me when I helped kill your bodyguard?" the dweller asked with a measure of suspicion and incredulity in his tone. Not so naive as was preferable, Hancock noted, clearly the guy suspected ulterior motives, but he didn't intend to give the stranger a choice in this. Guy's fate was sealed, far as he was concerned.

"Hell. I kill all kinds of people, and shake hands with their friends afterwards. You know how many boys used to have old Finn's back? Now don't get me wrong. Fahrenheit and me had history. And if this was a personal hit, killing you would be priority number one," he said. He felt he might have slipped up a bit on the word 'killing' again, but played it off like a champ. "But I know you were just trying to get a job done. I can respect that." He sensed he had overplayed his hand when absolutely no suspicion faded from the stranger's eyes. In fact, it only grew. And the guy made no attempt to hide that he was onto the game. Hancock felt a scowl creeping across his lips. He let the mask drop. "Alright, here's the deal. Since the hit wasn't personal, on your part, Bobbi pays first. From there we'll figure out what to do with you, understood?" he all but growled.

"John?" a voice said suddenly from the entrance, and the second he heard it his eyes grew wide and he felt his heart skip what seemed like several beats. For a moment it was like the whole world had stopped… It took him longer than it should have to find the courage to turn his head and look, and when he did there she was. Strong and beautiful and watching the scene playing out with a somewhat concerned frown. "John, what's this about?" He let out a sharp breath of air, forgetting the man he was squaring off with, and crossed to her in two long, quick strides, taking her arms gently and staring at her like he was looking at a ghost. She looked at his hands, puzzled, then back to him. She seemed to realize, then, what her answer was. Her posture relaxed and a look of understanding came to her eyes. "Were you afraid?" she murmured gently to him, reaching up and covering his hands with her own while they still rested on her arms.

He shook his head and bent, taking her lips firm and unrelenting, not giving her the opportunity to pull away from it. After probably too long, he withdrew. She stood still, eyes closed, then slowly opened them to fix him with that look of hers. That look that made him melt from the inside. "Only broken," he answered in a tone hoarser than he wanted it to be.

"Only?" she asked. "I think being broken is worse than being afraid, don't you?" He shook his head, biting back the words that wanted to leap out of his mouth. It would be a little out of the blue to suddenly ask her to marry him, after all. And stupid on his part. No way was he ready for a commitment like that, and he'd blown his chances with the one woman he would have considered it with anyway. Namely this one in front of him now looking wild and rough and so imperfectly perfect. She looked passed him. Glanced, really. "He's gone. But the next time you speak to him, I think you owe him something," she said in reference to the vault dweller he'd accosted. Hancock looked back and sure enough, the man had left. He looked to her once more with an expression that might have amounted to a pout, but woe to anyone who accused him of such. She smirked. "Now, now," she half-teased. He huffed then pulled her close, holding her tightly against him and swaying her a bit. She was still, but soon wrapped her arms around him as well. He pulled back, after a while, and without letting go of her hand led her back into the statehouse. She didn't protest.

Fallout

"I'm filthy. I need a bath."

Those were the first words she had said, after he brought her up to the stateroom and sat down with her. He'd called for a bath immediately. Now here they were upstairs and alone. She stared up at him quietly. He stood tall and terrifying, but only in appearance. She knew the man he really was.

She stood between him and the old tub that he'd had filled for her, as unappealing to the eye as she could possibly be she figured in frustration, but the way he was watching her like he was never going to let her out of his sight again… It stirred something inside her, a feeling she'd thus far been banning as desperately as she could. She came to a realization, in that moment, that she really didn't want to admit to. She had never really believed he loved her... Not truly, at least.

Reaching that epiphany shook her, and she found herself at a loss. He loved her. He really, really loved her. Loved her so desperately that not being able to touch her now was killing him inside. Not even sexually touch her, just be in contact with her. "I'm here John," she finally said.

"Yeah. I know," he answered, though his eyes didn't leave her.

She was quiet, arms folded around herself. "Are you going to leave?" she asked.

"If you want me to," he answered.

She stared at him, pursing her lips and considering his words. For a moment she was tempted, very tempted, to let him stay. Then she got to thinking about her body and what was hidden beneath her clothes, and suddenly she wasn't so convinced that idea was a good one. She didn't know what to say, so for probably the first time since she'd confessed to him why she hadn't slept with him yet, she went for brutal honesty. "I don't want you to go… But you have to. I'm not ready to let you see me. I don't… I don't want you to leave…"

"The room?" he asked, playing stupid. She knew full well he was playing stupid.

"Me, John," she said plainly. "I don't want you to leave me. God knows the pretty numbers you've seen before. I'd pale in comparison to all of them."

"I ain't with any of those pretty numbers now, am I?" he replied. "Fahra, look at me. I'm not exactly long-term relationship material. The exocticness of sleeping with a ghoul wears off fast. Great for fun or bragging rights or shock factors. Not so great for sayin' 'hey, I'm in love with this thing'."

"Man," she corrected immediately, though she knew it was somewhat hypocritical that she didn't want him to put himself down but was at the same time putting herself down.

"Creature," Hancock said.

"Stop it," she hissed.

"Fine. But in turn you stop pushing me away because you figure a boatload of scars and burns are a turnoff," Hancock replied, turning to leave the room. He walked out, and she felt a painful pull at her heart. Ashamedly she bowed her head, closing her eyes.

Fallout

When she had finished bathing, she stepped out of the tub and wrapped a towel around herself. She crept down the steps and peered around the corner. No one was there, so she slipped out in the towel and went to peek into the stateroom. Hancock was inside, leaning back on the couch with eyes closed as he huffed some jet and blew the smoke out in a stream towards the roof. She lowered her eyes and quietly shut the door, leaning her forehead against it. She wasn't ready to let him see her undressed. Sad, wasn't it, that she didn't even use the word naked because of how it made her feel about herself. But… but maybe she could work up to that state. Slowly. It was night, and there was no reason to go out again this evening. She could ditch the armor, she could ditch the leathers, and for goodness sake, it wouldn't kill her to dress in something a little more casual.

She pursed her lips then sighed in frustration, starting back to her room. She paused, suddenly, and she wasn't sure what impulse made her turn around and walk back to that stateroom, but she did it. She didn't give herself time to think, she just moved. She pushed open the door quietly and slipped inside in only the towel, shutting it silently behind her. She stared at him. He remained oblivious. She began to second guess herself and shifted, reaching back for the doorknob before pausing. After a moment she drew a breath and walked forward. She didn't look down at her uncovered legs or anywhere else, just straight ahead. He had yet to notice.

She neared him and perched quietly on the coffee table across from him. She watched in silence a long moment as he leaned back in the couch with eyes shut thinking of goodness knew what. "John?" she soon worked up the courage to say.

He opened an eye lazily but curiously. When he saw her, her sat bolt upright with a sharp intake of air, eyes going wide. She flinched a bit at the sudden movement, turning away from him and closing her eyes.

Fallout

He stared at her in disbelief, eyes fixed on the towel that was covering her. A towel. Nothing else. Just a towel. They roamed down to her legs then crept back up to her turned face. He didn't want to imagine how difficult doing this had been for her. After a long moment, he reached out and took her chin, turning her head back to face him. She looked up into his eyes, her own pained and nervous. He scanned her lips then met her eyes again before leaning forward and pressing his mouth to hers softly, the kiss lingering a long time. Finally he drew back, leaving her breathless, and thumbed her cheek gently. She swallowed and opened her eyes. "Thank you," he murmured to her. "For trusting me enough to do this." She swallowed and nodded. He nuzzled her with a sigh. "I love you, Fahra," he said. He knew she wouldn't be able to say it back, but that was alright. He wouldn't ask that of her.

"I know that now," she said.

"Now?" he asked, frowning curiously. She flushed and looked ashamedly away, head bowed. He was quiet, getting the message. "Guess I deserved that," he quietly said, looking away from her as well.

"It wasn't because of your sleeping around, John. Just I'm not…" she began.

"Don't even say it," he said, frowning at her.

She nodded. Silence. "It's how I've felt for years," she finally said. "So for me to believe anyone truly loves me is asking a lot. But when I came back from the strongroom and saw you there with the stranger you thought had killed me, when I saw the pain in your eyes, when I saw how you looked at me when I said your name, and how you looked at me upstairs like you never wanted me to leave your sight again… You can only trick yourself into being oblivious for so long, you know?"

"Yeah," he quietly said.

Silence. "I don't want to be hurt," she finally said.

Hancock nodded. He wasn't the sort of person who inspired trust. He wasn't the sort of man a woman would look at and think, 'he'll never hurt me' or 'he'll never cheat on me'. His reputation as a notorious letch was widespread. There probably weren't many settlements around who could boast that no one residing in them had ever slept with him. It was nothing short of a miracle she had been this open to him as was.

He looked back at her, and it broke his heart to realize that whenever he left for a while and came home, she had by then regressed to acting like he'd found someone better and moved on, just hadn't had the common decency to tell her it was over. She always just assumed it was. It ticked him off too. He hated knowing that she fully expected that any day he would move passed her and not even give a courtesy 'we're through, I love someone else'. Always she just assumed. Always. Sure, he got that she didn't want to be hurt and that it was probably a defense mechanism, but did she seriously think she was fooling anyone? Did she seriously give so little weight to her own feelings that she figured she should just expect it and let it go without a word? Did she really think she was that worthless? He got that she wanted to always appear tough and stoic like nothing fazed her, but dammit, would it kill her to act like she was worth holding onto instead of throwing away for once?!

And then it hit him.

He wasn't just describing her. He was describing himself as well…

He was describing himself because he did think he was that worthless. He did think of himself as a throwaway more than something worth saving. He had assumed that she had just moved onto something better and in fact still assumed that, because why else would he have even to this day refrained from asking if they were still a thing?

He was as afraid and mistrustful of this as she was…

She reflected everything that he was and everything that he felt, just he put on a facade and she didn't bother with one. He loved her, and she loved him, but the neither of them were ready for something like this. Not yet. Neither of them was ready to take that plunge. But what if they'd never be? That thought hurt more than he wanted to admit, because he didn't want to let her go. He never wanted to let her go. But maybe letting her go would be best for both of them in the end… Or maybe he was just being selfish and his not wanting to be hurt, like her, was causing him to try and avoid it altogether by dooming the whole situation before it even had a chance to get off the ground.

Fallout

"What are we, Fahra?" he heard himself ask before he could bite back the question. He didn't regret asking it. It had to be asked.

"I don't know," she answered.

"What do you want us to be?" he asked.

Tears were misting her eyes now. She sniffed a bit and smiled a sad smile like she knew where this was going but wished it wasn't. "Lovers," she answered. "Together… I want to be yours and yours alone, and I want you to be mine. Forever… But forever's a long time, isn't it?"

He shook his head. "Not long enough," he answered, pulling her close and crushing her lips with his. Her mouth trembled, her fingers curling around his jacket. Eventually they drew apart. She looked shaken and conflicted, not sure what this meant or how to feel. "I want that too," he said. "But we really gotta work on trust. Trusting in one another's motives and objectives, maybe trusting in ourselves too… At least I do. So let's take some time, first of all, and back off this for a bit, and when we've figured our own shit out, we'll try again and again, and we'll keep on trying until this thing happens."

"Or fails. Or one or the other of us ends up dead," she said, looking spitefully at his stash of chems. He winced. That would probably be the hardest hurdle for him to overcome, he knew. That and his own dark and admittedly too-often-suicidal thoughts.

"It ain't gonna fail. We won't let it. Maybe that's what you've gotta work on trusting in the most," he said. She was quiet. "I'm yours. I'll always be. No more sleeping around, no more cheating… Trust me. Gonna be a tall order to avoid the flirting but I'll try as best I can, and at the end of the day when all's said and done, it's you I'll come home to. Always. No one else, just you. You're my main squeeze after all. If you wanna be."

"I do," she said, voice breaking a bit as she nodded quickly and laughed a watery laugh, leaning her forehead against his own with a grin. "I do, John, I do."

"Good," he said. "'Cause I want it too." He kissed her again, and they relished in one another's presence for a long time to come...

Fallout

It wasn't long after their conversation that their resolutions to each other were tested. The next morning Hancock had gone to make amends with the Sole Survivor, learned from the man what had actually gone down in the strongroom, and then just like that he was gone. He left with the stranger to go out into the Commonwealth for a while, take a break from Goodneighbor, and Fahrenheit watched after them with lips pursed tightly and tears she refused to let fall threatening her eyes.

I'm yours. I'll always be. No more sleeping around, no more cheating… Trust me.

Trust me.

She wanted to so, so badly… Maybe saying as much out loud would help her to do just that.

"I trust you," she whispered after him. She didn't believe it, at first, but it made her feel a little better. "I trust you," she said again more firmly this time, and it felt stronger and more believable that time. "I trust you," she said a third time with finality, turning and walking back inside. She didn't wholly believe her own words, no, but she was a grand sight closer to doing so than she had been, and that was a bigger step for her than anyone could understand. She dared to trust him… She hoped she wasn't wrong to… She grimaced, forcing that thought aside, and set to keeping her mind occupied elsewhere with various tasks and duties around Goodneighbor while she waited for her closest friend, her love, to come home.