MacCready was sitting in the chair in the corner of the rented room at the Dugout Inn. With how long they'd been renting this room they could've bought that empty house in the market.
Amber was passed out cold in the bed. She drank at least twice as much as he had, and had to be carried into the room after trying to give tap dancing lessons to DJ Travis. MacCready owed the brothers 50 caps for the broken table.
The only thing Mac liked about her drinking was how honest she'd become after a few drinks. He liked getting to learn about her life before the war, and it was the only time she'd talk about it. How she'd met her husband in her last year of college. How their relationship got heavy quick, pregnant before their first year together. She never said what he did, but he could tell things weren't great between them when she ended up in that vault.
She stirred slightly in her sleep, muttering to herself as she often did. Her legs flailed around the dirty mattress.
'No, damnit, Nate. I saw you! Stop lying to me!" She called out into the darkness. Mac walked to the edge of the bed and took a seat. He took her hand in his and she laced her fingers around his. Her skin was still paler than anyone he'd ever met, but was starting to grow trigger calluses to match his own.
"Get away from him!" She shouted now, and Mac could see tears sliding down her face. Her hair was sticking to the beads of sweat on her forehead, and he couldn't help but brush the stray strands away from her face.
Amber shot up then, her eyes wide and bloodshot. She gasped for breaths she couldn't seem to catch, her gaze darting around the room.
"Hey, it's okay." MacCready said quietly, his hand still laced with hers. "Are you all right?"
"Shaun... Shaun... Nate... Oh God, RJ!" She threw her arms around him, and he returned the embrace gently. She'd never called him that, but he didn't question it. Her breath was hot and ragged against his neck, her small frame almost vibrating against him.
"You're okay. You're safe. I'm here. We're okay" MacCready whispered into her ear. He tried to pull back to face her, but her grip around him tightened. He chuckled lightly at the thought of being held down by such a small person, but he relented. She continued to speak, but it all kind of slurred together. He only caught bits and pieces, mostly his name, Nate and Shaun. He rubbed her back slowly, and waited while her breath slowed until she was asleep in his lap.
MacCready pulled her close against him and backed up into the bed properly. He didn't try to pull away this time, letting her sleep in his arms.
When he awoke the next morning, she was no longer in the bed, but sitting in the chair in the corner, the radio on her Pip-boy playing softly on her wrist. Her Silver Shroud costume hung over the back of the chair. She sat in a t-shirt and shorts, her bare feet tucked underneath her, just wearing his hat. She flipped idly through a Grognak comic she'd found a while back. Seeing her this way, he caught a glimpse of who she might have been before the war. Just a mom, a lawyer, a housewife. Not a stealthy killer, but a woman.
She was singing along softly to the radio, her voice low and slightly gravelly, but beautiful. Soulful.
She stood and stretched, her shirt lifting slightly up her back to reveal three long claw marks across her lower back. Deathclaw? Amber had told her the story of when she met Preston in Concord, but he didn't know she'd gotten hurt.
"Morning, kid." Amber said softly, her large eyes guarded, like she was a kid that got caught doing something bad and she was waiting to be disciplined.
"Morning, boss. You ready to get out of here?" He said, trying his best to be nonchalant. Amber sighed softly and nodded, but bit her lip like she was deciding something. Mac chose not to notice.
"Listen, MacCready. About last night..." Her eyes were on the floor between them. He'd never seen her nervous before. He grabbed her wrist and pulled her to him, sitting her on the bed next to him.
"I know you've been through a lot. More than you let people know. You don't have to tell me, but I'm here for you." He held her face cupped in his hands. It took everything in Amber's body not to kiss his pursed, worried mouth. She sighed and closed her eyes before pulling away from him.
"You're not getting extra caps to play therapist, kid." Amber said with a dry chuckle.
"We both know this hasn't been about caps since the overpass." He wasn't looking at her, but she could hear the sincerity in his words.