Five
"You own me with whispers like poetry..."
"I'm sorry we didn't get back in time, Wanderer," Deacon told her sincerely as they stood in the entrance to the Memory Den. He wanted to reach out to her, hold her, or hell even pat her on the back but he couldn't. His arms stayed limp and useless by his sides as he just stared at her.
"Yeah, well," Artemis sniffed. Deacon saw that she was doing her damn hardest to not cry after realizing her new Synth buddy had no recollection of her. She ejected the small orange holotape from her Pipboy and shoved it into her pant's pocket.
"Lets get something to drink," Artemis turned around and led the way out of the Memory Den and over to the Third Rail. Deacon followed her silently through the streets of Goodneighbor, nodded at the ghoul bouncer, Ham, on his way down to the Third Rail and then took stride next to Artemis instead of following her.
"Let me talk, okay?" He told her.
Artemis' head tilted towards him, one of her eyebrows raised into her bangs. "You never talk."
"Trust me," Deacon flashed a smile at her. He would have winked but she wouldn't have seen beneath his sun glasses. "Hey, Charlie," he called then, walking up to the bar. Artemis watched on, taking a seat at one of the stools and leaning her elbows on the counter top. "I'd like my usual, from off the menu. Way off." Deacon stood casually next to her, his hands in his jean pockets.
"Listen mate, I don't know you," The Mr. Handy responded with his thick accent, one of his eyes dilating as it focused on Deacon's face, the second was observing Artemis and the third was watching the glass he was cleaning. "And the menu's been set for years."
"C'mon Charlie," Artemis glanced up to Deacon who didn't seem fazed by the robot's attitude. Artemis, however, wondered if she should cut him off and just order two Gwinnets. "I've been ordering off the menu since that business with... Tightrope." Deacon continued, the code name not familiar with Artemis. She was honestly shocked at what the robot said next.
"Mister Deacon. Changed your face again. I can accommodate your usual, if the payment is right." All three of the Mr. Handy's eyes were focused on Deacon now as he set his rag and glass down. He pulled a pencil off the counter behind him as well as a piece of paper and set it in front of Deacon.
"You'll find this sufficient, pleasure doing business," He scribbled something down before handing both items back to the bar tender.
"As always," Charlie stowed the piece of paper under the bar counter and replaced the pen before pulling out a bottle of whiskey. "Would Mayor Hancock's favorite lady like a chaser?" The robot asked and Artemis smiled, slightly dazzled by Deacon's trick, or whatever it was.
"I wouldn't complain if you had some Nuka Cherry," she said, Deacon moving to her other side and taking a seat next to her. Charlie pulled one of the soda bottles out for Artemis, and then set two glasses before the pair of spies and left them to their own.
"You'll have to show me that trick sometime," Artemis whispered to Deacon before pouring him a small amount of whiskey into a glass.
Deacon picked his glass up, tipped it to Artemis, and then tipped the liquid quickly back into his mouth. "Maybe some other time," Deacon told her with a slight hiss to his voice from the burning alcohol.
Artemis poured him another glass before mixing the whiskey with Nuka Cola in hers.
She had stopped wearing a bra. Deacon had noticed after a few hours and a whole bottle of whiskey shared between the pair. Artemis was leaned over the bar, her current getup was a Gunner outfit, shredded jeans and a green button up shirt, which just so happened to be missing the third button. The way she was leaning forward brought the shirt tighter around her chest and the missing button caused a separation to form in the material, showing off the underside of her left breast and ribs to Deacon.
Deacon had the sneaking suspicion, as he did his best to keep his forehead in his hand in order to block the sight next to him, that she had to have ripped the button off herself, since it was there yesterday. She had stopped wearing her bra before that, however, at least a week prior. Deacon had definitely noticed the difference in shape and how she moved beneath her shirts when she laughed.
A soft poke to his own ribs made him jolt up and Artemis smiled at him. "You okay, Deeks?" She asked, no longer leaning against the bar so the gap in her shirt was closed.
"Who me?" He asked. "Yeah. Smell in this place is rancid though. Like two mirelurks in their love nest."
"I don't think mirelurks have sex," Artemis mused, taking a sip out of her third Nuka Cherry while leaning against the bar again. Deacon almost didn't catch himself staring. Artemis looked like some post apocalypse, skinny, pinup girl ad for the drink.
"Well... That sucks," Deacon said, wondering why the hell he thought bringing up sex was a good idea.
Artemis laughed at him, "That sucks? Because Mirelurks don't get laid?"
Don't say it, don't you fucking say it. "Not getting laid sucks," he told her, looking as casual as possible but he had never wanted to punch himself in the jaw so hard. He knew for a fact she hadn't had any sex since getting out of the vault. He would have seen it before she came to the Railroad and now every moment they had was spent around each other. Unless she had mastered the art of the two-minute quickie with MacCready or-
"Deacon," Artemis snapped her fingers to get his attention and he realized he had lost himself to the thought of Artemis having sex with other men while repeating "You don't care" in his head like it was his new motto.
"Huh?" He managed, watching the smile fade from her face.
"Are you okay?" She asked him again, actually looking concerned.
"I'm fine. I'm great," he told her as he got out of his seat and made to leave the Third Rail, "I'm heading to bed." Deacon didn't wait for a reaction from her, he practically ran out of the place. They already had their room at the Rexford, but Deacon wasn't sure why he thought it would be his refuge when he saw they only had one bed. Again. Ten caps a person and Clair still wouldn't give them two beds or in the least two rooms. Maybe she thought that they were-
"Stop it, Jesus Christ," Deacon said to himself, pacing wildly around the room, feeling his heart trying to escape his chest. He was afraid, he wouldn't deny that. What would happen if he had sex with Artemis and she died? What would happen if he didn't have sex with her and she died? What if she got bored with him after a while? What if she gave up on him and started actually pursuing some other jackass?
Deacon wasn't sure what would hurt worse, Artemis leaving or dying, but he figured he wouldn't survive either. Hell he could barely handle what happened to Barb-
"Fuck," he choked, pressing his forefinger and thumb hard into his eyes from under his sunglasses. Why was he doing this to himself? Why was his mind intent on torturing him?
Deacon's usual solution would be to leave. He could get the hell out of Goodneighbor, get a face change and lay low for a while... But he knew that he couldn't erase twelve years. He couldn't get over the five he had off and on with his dead wife. Artemis being alive would just throw another layer on top of the obsession he had. No matter what he did, face change, disappear, lay low in the Mojave for a while, he wouldn't be able to stay away from her.
Deacon was on the bed now, sitting with his arms limp at his side as he stared blindly across the dark room, his cheeks sticky from drying tears. He was slowly realizing he didn't know who he was anymore. The man he used to be would have screwed her and been done with it, let her move on to different things. Deacon wouldn't have gotten involved. After the Switchboard, he would have left her to her own devices, spying on her here and there. This man, however, he had no idea who he was or what he was doing.
He heard someone shuffling down the hallway and his raw eyes, hidden by his sunglasses, looked to the door. He could barely see anything in the dark under his shades, but he was able to make out someone walking down the hallway through the holes in the wall. Deacon kicked off his shoes and laid down on the edge of the bed, flat on his back, sighing before he heard the door creak open.
"Deeks?" Artemis asked the darkness and a green light flooded the room from her wrist. He didn't dare answer her, instead he lay still on the bed, closing his eyes. "Deacon?" Artemis asked again and closed the door.
He heard her walk across the floorboards over to the bed. He heard her sigh before something heavy was set on the dresser near the bed. He heard a zipper then and Deacon felt his mouth dry up, figuring it was her jeans. He heard her boots get kicked off and fabric falling to the floor. He heard Artemis rummaging through their packs and then he heard her shaking out a blanket. He heard the lamp on her Pipboy turn off before he felt the heavy blanket fall over him and the mattress. And then he felt her crawl on top of him.
The knuckles of his right hand, that lay limp by his side, met the bare skin of Artemis' knee and his heart stopped. "Deacon?" Artemis breathed, still on top of him. Deacon remained silent, fighting his fingers to not twitch and feel more of her skin.
He managed not to respond to her, other than continuing his slow, steady breathing. He felt her weight shift forward and warm lips were pressed to his cheek. "I wish you'd talk to me," she confessed quietly and Deacon was frozen, wondering if she thought he was actually asleep or if she knew he was faking. Either way, she moved off of him and onto the leftover space on the mattress, covering them both with the blanket.
It took Deacon what felt like ages to get up the courage to turn his back to her as she slept next to him, and even longer to fall asleep. When he woke, he felt as if he had only blinked, one second the room was pitch black, the next the sun was shining through the grimy window.
He sat up, feeling stiff from the mattress and not moving last night as he slept as far as possible from Artemis. He dared to take his sunglasses off to rub the sleep from his eyes and clean the lenses on his shirt. When he went to put them back on he noticed Artemis' jeans strewn across the floor with his shoes and hers, as well as a familiar green button up shirt. Deacon froze, his glasses halfway onto his face as he stared at the shirt. The way his heart was beating, he figured, he'd have a heart attack by the end of the week if this kept up.
"These 'Yow Gees' are pretty tasty when they aren't trying to rip our heads off our shoulders," Artemis mused between licking her fingers and gnawing on one of the ribs she had.
Deacon chuckled at her words, picking at his own Yao Guai ribs. "Are you saying my cooking isn't always up to par?" He teased.
"I'm saying that you should cook Yao Guai more often," Artemis eyed him, sitting on the ground with a blanket covering her shoulders and back. As if she hadn't been torturing Deacon enough with that damn green, button-missing shirt, she was now wearing simply a harness with a thin piece of fabric covering her breasts. Due to this she was colder than normal in the Commonwealth's winter. Deacon didn't know this because Artemis had said so, no. He knew this because her body screamed it at him from beneath that thin fabric.
"Sure. We'll use you as bait," Deacon agreed. Honestly, he would like to avoid all situations like this in the future, and Artemis would have agreed. She watched his smile fade as he continued to eat his share of their dinner.
They had found themselves in an eerily quiet neighborhood, Fairline Hill Estates, and soon found out why it was abandoned. Two huge, irradiated, and bloodthirsty Yao Guai had attacked them out of nowhere and gave the duo a serious run for their money.
"Hey Deeks?" Artemis got his attention after plainly staring at him for a moment or two.
"Hm?" He answered, looking from his food to her from his seat on an old chair.
"Your thoughts?" She asked him.
"I'm just thinking about how terrible of an idea it is to spend the night is a creepy place like this," he answered her, looking around the house they were in. They already did their best barricading the front and back doors, and Artemis had laid a few mines around the neighborhood. They were in the living room of a home now, sat around a lantern and a few candles they had found, with their sleeping bags laid out on an old mattress, ready for them once their dinner was finished.
"Are you scared?" Artemis teased him.
"N-no," Deacon responded in a jokingly terrified manner. "I'm not Travis," he then chuckled again, listlessly tossing one of the Yao Guai rib bones aside.
"Oh we're gonna die!" Artemis did her best impression of Diamond City Radio's DJ.
"It's uh... Diamond City Radio!" Deacon took a crack at it as well, sounding a thousand times more like Travis than Artemis. "Betty Hutton is on now, singin' about a man... Right? Ugh, so stupid!" He continued, watching Artemis erupt into a fit of laughter. "Are you a pistol packin' mama? If so, this song is about youuu!"
"Oh my God," Artemis gasped, burning hot tears stinging her hazel blue eyes. "Next time we're in Diamond City, remind me to stop by and hug Travis okay? We're mean assholes."
"I'm just imitating the media," Deacon said in his own defense. "Besides if you hug him he'll probably have a heart attack or piss himself."
"I'm sorry, did I say we were mean assholes? I meant you are a mean asshole," Artemis shook her head in laughter.
"Sister, you're breaking my heart over here," Deacon said, forcing his voice to sound raspy like Hancock's.
"Really?" Artemis asked him, unable to stop smiling as wide as she was. "Do Nick."
"I'd really rather you not 'Do' me, kid," Deacon did his best matching Nick's low voice, just to hear her laugh. He swore to himself that it wasn't the way her breasts moved beneath that band of fabric.
"Do Codsworth!" Artemis clapped, wondering if she should be amazed or not at how good Deacon's impressions were.
"By jolly, mum, I really don't know what to say," he broke character halfway through to laugh at himself, doubling over and almost falling out of his chair.
"Do Danse, holy shit, do Danse," Artemis choked out her request, laying flat on the ground now.
"What is all this laughter, soldier? This is a no fun zone! Ad Victoriam!" Deacon shouted, trying not to laugh as he did.
"Oh my God, I love it," Artemis said, and realized halfway through the sentence she had meant to say "you". She was able to catch herself, but then wondered why, she surely didn't mean that she loved him, right? Just what Deacon was doing. "MacCready," she said quickly, to distract herself.
"I can't impersonate MacCready," Deacon tried to tell her seriously. "I wouldn't know if I should rob you, fuck you, or kill you."
"What?" Artemis sat up with her eyebrows raised, her smile still prominent. "What are you talking about?"
"You're asking me to impersonate your merc boyfriend," Deacon calmed his own laughter.
Oh right, Artemis remembered. "He's not my boyfriend," she rolled her eyes and stood from the floor, wrapping the blanket around herself tighter.
"Sure he's not," Deacon smiled knowingly. In all actuality he knew it was fake, it had to be, but hearing her deny it made him feel slightly less... Jealous.
"He's not!" Artemis continued, walking over to the candles and began to blow them out. A bright flash of light preceded a loud clap of thunder by a split second and Artemis couldn't stop herself from jumping.
"I can see the regret on your face, and I have to say that staying in the creepy neighborhood was your idea," Deacon told her, standing up from his chair.
"We could be walking to Diamond City to crash at Piper's in this thunderstorm," Artemis pointed out, leaning down again to continue blowing out the candles.
"This was a great idea, have I told you that already? Fantastic plan," Deacon changed his tone quickly. He walked forward to turn out the lantern and made his way to the mattress, kicking off his shoes lazily and shrugging off his yellow "Minuteman" jacket. He pulled his belt off last and dropped it on the ground next to the mattress before crawling into his sleeping bag.
"You're so damn messy," Artemis said as she watched him.
"Just get over here with the blanket already, this sleeping bag is freezing," Deacon told her, laying on his back, one of his hands under his head and the other resting on his stomach.
Artemis didn't respond verbally but made her way over to him, debating whether or not to sleep in her pants and tube-top, or if she should pull out one of his flannel shirts. As soon as the thought crossed her mind, she knew she was going to wear one of his shirts to bed. She walked over to his pack, tossing the blanket to Deacon before rummaging through his disguises for the shirt she wanted.
"What are you doing?" He asked her, sitting up to try and position the blanket better over himself and the mattress.
"I'm not sleeping in these buckles," Artemis pulled out the shirt, another crack of thunder accompanying a flash of bright light helping her find it. She slipped the harness off of her shoulders, which let the pants fall slightly over her slim waist. With her back to him, she pulled her arms through Deacon's shirt, pulling her tube top down her body and stepping out of it with her pants. She buttoned only a few buttons on the shirt, not bothering to get them done straight and evenly.
Quickly, Artemis made her way under the blanket and into her own sleeping bag, laying on her back next to Deacon, with the blanket up to her mouth. "We would be a lot warmer at Piper's," she mumbled, closing her eyes to the darkness around them, listening to the storm blow in, and thankful the lightening had no green hue.
"Totally would prefer this," Deacon mumbled back before there was silence between them.
The minutes ticked by slowly and Artemis was tired, sure, but she kept her focus on the shirt she was wearing and the man laying less than an inch from her. He was silent, but Artemis doubted that Deacon was asleep.
"Deeks," she whispered to the ceiling, making her voice heard over the howling wind outside.
"Hm?" He mumbled back, turning his sunglass-hidden eyes to her.
"I'm freezing," she told him, turning her head as well. She poked his bare foot with hers and felt his leg jump before he laughed.
"You sure do make a good human popsicle," he joked, knowing that Artemis wouldn't take offense to it.
Artemis still pouted, hoping that he would let her move closer to him. He wasn't too big of a touchy-feely kind of guy, but he also wasn't the kind of guy who would let her freeze. "Ugh, fine," he groaned like it was some kind of big deal, extending his left arm for her.
Artemis moved quickly, pressing her body against Deacon and laying her head on his chest, her own arm wrapping around his side as her knee was drawn up over his thighs. Finally, finally, she was as close to Deacon as she had wanted to be for weeks, months even.
Deacon wrapped his arm around her shoulders and held her there, reassuring Artemis that he wasn't going to change his mind, despite how suddenly invasive she was. "Thanks, Deacon," she mumbled into his shirt.
"Joke's on you, I haven't showered in a month," he stated and Artemis smiled.
"We both bathed yesterday," she pointed out, the smile present in her voice.
"Shh," he chuckled and Artemis laid her ear flat against his chest to hear that sound up close. She closed her eyes, savoring the sound as it died out, giving way to the weather raging outside and Deacon's heartbeat. She could have sworn that it was beating faster than any normal human's heart would beat, especially when lying still. Hell, her own was bruising the inside of her ribs.
Half of her wanted to lay here like this with Deacon, memorize everything from the Abraxo detergent and tobacco smell of his shirt to how many breaths he took, and the other half wanted more. She was never greedy, but she couldn't help but want more from this man. She slipped her hand down his torso, stopping when she met his waistband. Her breath hitched and caught in her throat, her lungs freezing as she listened to his heartbeat pick up speed.
Outside, thunder was raging and the air was full of electricity, just like the tips of Violet's fingers as they rest on Deacon's shirt, waistband, and bare skin of his hip bone. Artemis' head had started to spin and she took in a deep, shaky breath, trying to keep her fingers from trembling. She felt Deacon's hand tighten his grip slightly on her shoulder. She wasn't sure if it was him silently asking her to stop or if he was asking for more...
Her fingers slipped beneath the waistband of his pants and to her horror, she felt him pulling her away. She started to apologize but couldn't speak, she couldn't get the first letter out of her lips as her back was pressed into the mattress by Deacon's body, his mouth feverishly kissing hers.
Artemis' arms gave out first, losing her strength as Deacon slipped out and left her feeling both empty and sated. Never had she been more ready to fall asleep as she collapsed onto the mattress and knotted blanket and sleeping bags. She closed her eyes, waiting for Deacon to fall next to her, waiting to laugh or to just pass out, but he stayed on his knees behind Artemis.
"Wow," she mumbled, the only word she could get her exhausted brain to say.
She was met with silence and slowly opened her eyes, turning to her side to get a read on Deacon, to see what he was doing, and was shocked to find him not there. She turned around quickly and watched him shrug on his "Minuteman" jacket, his glasses already back on his face and a pack of cigarettes in his hand.
Of course, cigarettes after sex, that was something she had been used to over two hundred years ago. Before Deacon opened the front door she pulled the blanket up to her eyes, too tired to get up and find her underwear or to try and button whatever was left of his flannel shirt. Artemis had intended to wait for Deacon to come back, however she had only remained awake long enough for her to wonder why he had decided to smoke outside.
It was the cold that woke her up. Her hazel-blue eyes fluttering open, eyelashes like butterfly wings, to meet the early morning sun. There was no trace of clouds visible through the windows. She blinked and stretched, saying, "That storm passed quickly," before yawning.
She realized something was wrong, her stomach sinking as she realized she was able to stretch completely across the mattress without hitting another body. There was no scent of breakfast, just the cold, crisp, after-rain air and a slightly off putting mold. She couldn't hear anything, the world around her was deathly silent, the natural Commonwealth orchestra.
Artemis sat up, rubbing her eyes and scolding herself for feeling afraid, until she realized the front door was still wide open. She pushed the blanket off of her, the cold air covering her in goose bumps as she stood up to retrieve her glasses. Without any circumspection, Artemis walked to the front door in only the flannel shirt, still unbuttoned and exposing her nakedness to the morning.
The feeling turned to panic as she didn't find Deacon on the front porch. She walked further out of the house, looking around the neighborhood and spotted him two houses over, seated on a lawn chair with his elbows on his knees and his head low. She took a few steps towards him, walking down the street before stopping herself. Deacon didn't look right, he didn't look like he was asleep, or like he was smoking... He looked upset.
Artemis opened her mouth and drew in a breath that had his name on it but it caught in her throat and dispersed into silent and visible vapor. She was shaking and drew the flannel shirt closed, clenching the old fabric in her fists, while staring at him. He lifted his head, titled slightly in her direction and suddenly Artemis was nervous. He didn't give any other indication that he cared she was half naked outside besides sighing. No "Morning beautiful," or even a simple, "Hey, sorry I left the door open like an asshole and left you to freeze to death, naked in our bed."
The next breath she took in stabbed painfully at her lungs, her eyes burning with fresh tears as she stumbled, turning around and walking back into the house she had come from. Stepping through the door she fell onto her knees with a loud sob, covering her mouth after. If Deacon hadn't realized she was crying before, he'd definitely know now. Artemis wasn't sure which was worse, him knowing, or him not caring.
You can read the uncensored chapter on my profile on AO3, I'm under the same user name and the story has the same title.