Note: What to do with Hancock. I have no idea. *sigh* ...At least Danse makes me laugh.
(Minor edit, haha, oh man. Looooong day.)
Hancock lit a cigarette, staring at Ruby's back impassively. "You're wound up tighter than the Paladin's armor plates," he said, after taking a long drag.
She'd stopped by the chem station, at the back of a house, and was eyeballing the bags of fertilizer that were stacked up along the base. Glanced back at him, her face drawn. "Not a Paladin, anymore," she muttered, her hands shaking with nerves.
"Need to relax," he said, watching her. Held the cigarette in his mouth and patted his pockets. "I have just the thing―"
His hands stilled in their search, then he picked off a loose thread and flicked it away. Remembered what she'd said before, a little too late. Maybe he needed more, himself, if he wasn't remembering that shit―
"No, thank you," she said, firmly. "I don't want chems, John."
"That's what you expect from me?" he muttered, annoyed with himself even more. Couldn't help but be aggravated, defensive. It was what he expected from himself, he knew.
Ruby hefted a bag of fertilizer. "Does seem to be your thing," she answered, snarkily.
She really was rattled by the attacks. Her hands kept shaking, as she placed the bag onto the station surface. She was breathing a little faster, clearly on edge―
Wasn't like her to be rude to people, either. At least... well, lately she'd been nothing but rude to him, but she'd been tied up with all that shit about MacCready. Now she was trying to start a fight with him.
Deliberately getting on his ass, it seemed. He didn't know why, but he wouldn't give her the pleasure. "Whatever," he muttered, flicking his cigarette away.
She sighed, closing her eyes for a moment before she turned her head to look at him. "What do you want?" she asked, tiredly. "Seriously. What do you want from me, John?"
"What do I want?" He sputtered out a laugh. Thumbed his coat, considering her. Ruby opened her eyes and stared at him, tiredly. He stared back, trying not to let her see how irritated he was. She didn't back down, just gave him that frustrated look.
"Fine, I'll get out of your hair," he said, finally. Started walking, waving to her as he moved in the direction of the bridge. "Have a good one, Ruby."
"Dammit, John!" she yelled, angrily. "Come back and―argue or something, Christ! Don't just run away!"
"That's all I'm good for," he called back, looking at her over his shoulder. Ruby was standing with her hands on her hips, watching him. He shook his head and moved his eyes to the ground in front of him.
Shoulda figured, he thought. They'd had their tiffs, before. Wasn't gonna change, them aggravating each other to the point of frustration. After the last time, he'd wanted to come back after she'd made that big show for him. After she'd showed that she was willing―
He knew why she irritated him―there were too many cooks in the kitchen. After she'd run 'round the Commonwealth with him and sussed out his talents, she'd put him to work and then assumed he'd just... do his thing. Ignored all the camaraderie they'd had like it barely happened, and he'd told her some real incriminating things. Things he might not have said otherwise.
But he was still a leader like she was, even if it was just the one town. He'd stepped out of that image of Hancock as a successful troublemaker by trying to keep up their friendship, and ended running off when he couldn't handle the shit talk. John, showing his face again. Damn.
Hancock rubbed his chin, thinking. Really dug into him. She'd been off-limits for such a long time, and when he'd had a chance to slip in―he'd choked. Wasn't acting like Hancock at all, then. Should've told her exactly what he thought, even if she told him to piss off in the end.
Wasn't a matter of morals. Ideals. Everything she did had to be done, everything she said had to be said. Even the insults, like he'd told her about becoming the Man. Needed that to keep him in check. That was Hancock. Being John was fucking everything up―
Pounding footsteps behind him. Caught his attention a little too late, and he turned to see her barreling down on him. She pushed him back into a hedge, grabbing at his collar. Her Minutemen hat fell to the side, making her hair messy around her face.
"You got that out of your system?" she hissed, green eyes glittering as the sun suddenly came out from behind the clouds. Sunlight lit up her face, showing him the full extent of her expression. She wasn't just picking a fight, she was starting one. Was flat-out angry―and sad, for some reason.
He blinked at her, surprised. Hadn't expected she would run him down like that. It was uncomfortable, and not just because there was a twig making its way up his ass. What was with that look on her face, he wondered. Nodded as best he could at her, letting his arms go limp at his sides.
"Good. I'm getting tired of you running away every time we have a fight." She didn't let go of his coat, her hands wound into the fabric. Right up in his face, now. She was riled up, something bad.
"I know you want to help people," she added. "I want you to help me help people. If you'd―just work with me―and I know I'm not the best at being nice, sometimes―" She gritted her teeth and growled. "But you're being so goddamn frustrating, right now!"
Too bad she was off-limits, now. Didn't stop him from feeling the same as he had, but... He'd wanted that light on him, not that long ago. He grinned a little, feeling her fingers pressing against his chest. Maybe she didn't know what this looked like, but she had to feel how close she was to him. He put his hands on her hips and tried hard not to grin.
"Being forced into a hedge wasn't how I'd planned my afternoon going, but, hey... I'll take it," he said, chuckling a little.
Ruby scoffed at him. "What chems did you do today," she grumbled. "Acting like―" She started moving away, loosing his collar.
"I see what the problem is," he replied, grabbing her hips more tightly. She couldn't escape, wasn't gonna get away that easy. They'd have this fight on his terms, this time. His terms―whether she liked it or not. Owed him that, since the last fight.
"You don't like me sober, that's what it is. We can't get along when I'm not using. When I'm not kissing your ass," he complained.
"That is not what it is!" she answered, grunting with effort. "I'm tired of you running off every time we have a problem and―dammit―let me go―"
Hancock dug his fingers into her, keeping her close to him. "That is the problem," he repeated, staring her right in the eyes. Could feel her hip bones through her jumpsuit, the muscles underneath bunched up in tension. Damn, and that felt great―
Her face was right there. Soft lips pursed and ready, even. Wouldn't be all that hard to steal a kiss―goddamn, and he would've, too, if he wasn't so sure she'd punch him in the teeth for it.
"Is that why you keep trying to leave?" she asked, incredulously. "Because―because you don't like being sober? Or are you―" She stopped herself from finishing the sentence.
He didn't look away. Wanted to enjoy this as long as he could. And at least he was sober. If he'd been high, he wouldn't be able to remember later on. Needed to remember, so he didn't do it again. Using the chems... like he told her, it only got harder to forget.
"Seriously, John, you have to give me a hint, here," she added, after a moment of silence. Her hands dropped to her side, letting him hold her. "I'm not exactly sure what's going on between us." She sounded confused. Acted confused.
She wasn't fighting him anymore. Shit, that was what she did when she was taking down the asshole. Made the bad guy think he'd won and then pulled out the verbal equivalent of a Fat Man, and took 'em down. He'd pushed this too far. Was gonna lose.
He said nothing. He'd only get himself into more trouble, if he said anything. Didn't need that on top of all the other shit... but... felt good, her body up against him like that. Warm. Soft. Didn't want to let her go. Her muscles flexed under his hands, reminding him of what he'd imagined before.
Wished he had a bottlecap, to test his theory. His mouth curled up.
Ruby put her hands on his shoulders, pushing him gently. Her eyes were on his collarbone. "Alright, let me go," she muttered. "You had your moment. Now you have to wait for the next one."
He was beat. He let go, releasing her from the awkward position. That twig started setting up real estate in a real tender spot, anyway.
Wouldn't forget that feeling of her pressed into him, though―
Once she'd pulled herself away, she put her hands on her hips again and glared at him. "I need your help, John," she said, not angry but annoyed. "Not... this. I don't really understand why you've been so―" she rubbed her forehead with the palm of her hand and squinted at him. "Angry? And I don't know how to make you feel better."
He didn't know what to do about it, either. Was enough to make him want to clean out a medicine cabinet, not to deal with this. Couldn't look her in the face. "Not angry," he told himself.
"John―" she sighed. "Look, we have a really bad history of making each other mad. You―keep trying to leave, and―" She shot him an exasperated look. "You can go back to Goodneighbor. I won't stop you."
"That really what you want?" he asked. Picked up her hat, patted it free of dirt and handed it to her.
"I asked you what you wanted from me," she reminded him. "You don't want to answer that, neither will I. You came with me because you wanted a break from Goodneighbor. Maybe the break's over."
Shit, she was pissed. He couldn't help but smile, though. All that coldness she was giving him was why he'd like going 'round with her, to begin with. Taking down the tyrants.
"Why're you so angry, sister?" he asked, suddenly. "Seemed fine, before. Now you're nothing but snapping teeth and claws."
"...These attacks―all this escalating tension―" she breathed out, relaxing herself slightly. "This is serious, John. Everything I've been working for since I got out of the Vault, everything that we've done for the people―this is all for the common good―"
"No," he said. "You came along, ruffled feathers, riled up the Commonwealth. Made your mark on the world. Because you were an angry mama wanting your son back, not because you wanted to help people."
She glared at him, furious. "Don't you even accuse me of that selfish kind of shit, John Hancock. Not you."
He shrugged, crossed his arms over his chest. "Seems your thing," he muttered, halfheartedly.
"Do you think, for one second, that I ever thought I would find Shaun?" she asked, her voice wobbling. "That I would find him out here, and everything could go back to how it was? After―" She started tearing up. "After Nate, and―no. I never thought I would see him, ever again. And when I did find him?" Her voice grew angry. She pressed her hand to her mouth, muffling her words. "I've tried. I've tried and tried, and all the hope I thought I had―" She closed her eyes. "You know all about putting on a show."
He did know. "It's a shitty gig," he agreed. Wasn't anything else he could say.
"The only reason I kept moving... was because I am a part of this, whether I like it or not." She wiped her face and looked up at him. "You felt the same about McDonough, in Diamond City. About the people he tossed out. And Shaun―" Tears fell from her eyes.
That was fucking painful, to watch. Her tearing up for her son was worse than watching her crying for the Brotherhood asshole. Hancock shifted his weight and watched her, not sure what to say. "Still holding on, though," he managed, watching her start to dissolve. "That's alright."
"...I am. But only because―" She breathed out and dropped her hand to her side, limply. "I don't need you acting like―whatever you're hung up on, I don't know. But we're friends. And friends stick by each other, no matter what. Having friends in this fucked-up world is more valuable than you could ever imagine."
Still wanted him around. Hancock watched her face, saw how vulnerable she still was. She'd martyred herself to love that idiot, and she was paying for it. Couldn't talk to him about something as important this? Bad sign.
...Might still mean there was a chance for him, if he even wanted to hope at all. Ruby's hope seemed like it was stuck up on a high ledge, buffeted by winds and rain and the occasional Deathclaw stomping through. Like she needed more hands than she had to keep it from falling off.
She needed that damned heart he had. John wasn't gonna get any better if he left. Knew that from experience. Had to handle this... like Ruby would, and march right in and lay down the law. That was the way to do it.
"I'll stick around," he said, watching her. "But you really gotta watch them insults, sister. A brother might get offended."
Ruby laughed, a tiny little laugh... but it was there. "I know." She rubbed her upper arm and frowned at the ground. "I need you to keep me on my toes. You're better at that than me."
"That a promotion?" he asked, smiling faintly. "Chief of reality checks? Got the experience, I guess."
She laughed, again. "Well," she said, sounding a little relieved, "you said it, ages ago. I don't like being the Man any more than you do. But I have to."
"Hope a pay raise comes with this shit," he muttered.
"You get paid with more shit than you can handle," she replied.
"...So that's why you're making Jet," he said, trying not to grin.
She groaned at him. "John..."
He could only laugh.
"A private talk, huh?" MacCready said.
Danse turned his head to the young man. The area north of the settlement was thickly wooded. The trees cast shadow onto both of them, branches moving slightly with the wind. The ex-Gunner's eyes were hard on his, when he met his gaze.
Danse shifted himself into a better stance and kept his eyes on the man. He was adequately aware of how to carry himself as a threat. Ruiz hadn't ever reacted to that; she'd simply treated him as... Danse. Whether he was a friend, a synth, or a brother, she had always regarded him as Danse and nothing more. That was one of the reasons he'd come to enjoy her company so much.
Her attitude was refreshing. Honest, truthful. Given what had occurred since he'd met her―he appreciated everything she'd done, and was grateful to have the pleasure of continuing their friendship.
But, MacCready―MacCready's attitude was full of deliberate ignorance. Everything that he did, he'd done out of sheer obstinate willfulness. His contract with the Gunners―who were a group of thugs and murderers―had been broken and he'd not bothered to finish his business with them. Not until Ruiz came along to help him.
The man was lazy, when it came down to action. He whined constantly about his own problems. Danse could only assume that he was afraid of silence, as often as he griped. If someone were to ask him what good quality MacCready had, if any, he could only offer up a halfhearted mention that he seemed to dislike profanity.
There wasn't very much about the man that he could tout as character strength.
"We need to talk about Ruiz," Danse stated, neutrally. Watched MacCready's face move from annoyance to anger.
MacCready made a grumbling noise and brought his fists up, as if to fist-fight. "Alright, we'll make this fair. Step out of that tin can and let's go."
Danse narrowed his eyes at him. "That was not my intention," he said, his thin patience near to snapping.
"You're mad I got the girl," MacCready said, rolling his eyes. "And here you said there wasn't a competition―" He smiled, grimly. "Doubt you'd drag me out here just to talk."
"You aren't competition," Danse intoned, loudly. He stared at the man for a brief second before letting his anger get the best of him. "Stop being a fool, MacCready. Letting ourselves get to the point of a physical altercation would only make matters worse!"
"Whatever," MacCready whined. "You know I'd kick your ass, Danse."
Danse raised an eyebrow at him. MacCready kept his fists up, glaring at him, jabbing the air. The idiot was expecting a fight. How impertinent.
"Very well," he agreed, reaching out with one hand and grabbing MacCready by the collar. "But if you insist that we're to fight, we do so on my terms."
He lifted him into the air and turned, moving a few wide steps toward the water, as the ex-Gunner squirmed under his grip, kicking him repeatedly in the chest. Danse dislodged his wiry grip on the power armor, tossed him into the creek and watched him floundering in the shallow water.
"If you've sufficiently calmed down, I would like to have a serious discussion, MacCready," he said, after a moment. He'd enjoyed the dunking, but it served no real purpose. Other than to douse the jackass' temper, which... did not appear to have worked, unfortunately.
MacCready coughed and hit the surface of the water with a fist in anger, pushing himself up onto one knee and staring at him. "Ugh!" he spat, then grabbed up his sodden hat and jammed it onto his head. "That was cheating, dammit!"
Perhaps he was wrong about the profanity. The bad language only made the next part of this conversation that much easier, however. MacCready stared at him insolently as water dripped into his eyes.
"You should know better than to pick a fight with a better man," Danse remarked. "You are disrespectful, ignorant, and willfully stupid―" MacCready's face kept getting worse and worse in its contorting state "―but Ruiz cares for you, and because of her I will not tolerate your shenanigans any longer. You are better than this ridiculous image you've crafted for yourself, MacCready. That is one of the reasons I told Ruiz I wouldn't let you live down my standards."
MacCready looked confused, standing up from the creek. "What the hell are you―" he jammed his mouth shut, and frowned.
"Ruiz has said that I am her brother." Danse kept his unforgiving gaze on the dripping man, with no intention of letting him escape this judgement. "She knows that I will support her in whatever endeavor she makes. You, on the other hand, have been nothing but a distraction for her―"
"I don't need to explain myself to a damn synth," MacCready snapped.
"No. You don't," Danse replied, dryly. "And I tolerate your existence just as mine is tolerated by the others. But if Ruiz heard you speaking like that, would she be as forgiving? She's accepted me for who I am. You are now in a position that you don't want to be removed from." He set his jaw. "And if your behavior doesn't change, you will not enjoy that position for very much longer."
The ex-Gunner stared at him, confused and angry. He continued his diatribe. "You have a family," he said. "You are aware of how one acts when one's family is endangered. Your foolishness has gotten Ruiz hurt on more than one occasion, whether by accident or―" he shot the man a glare that made him flinch "―by purposeful intent. And if you do not shape up..."
Danse snapped out a hand and grabbed his collar again, drawing the man closer and leaning down to put his face into his. "I will shoot you."
MacCready stared back at him, standing on his tip-toes to maintain his balance. He said nothing. "Are we clear, MacCready?"
"...Yeah," the young man said. "Yeah, we're clear."
"Are we?" Danse's eyes searched his for confirmation.
"Yeah. You're an overbearing ass and I'm a spiteful idiot. I think that's pretty clear," MacCready snapped. "Let me go, already."
"So long as you mind your actions around Ruiz, I will not have cause to harm you." Danse lowered him to the ground but remained close. "You will treat her better than you have in the past, and you will prove to me that you mean well."
"Your standards are impossible," MacCready whined, brushing off his collar and putting it right.
Danse raised his rifle and gave him a pointed look. "If that's truly how you feel... you should start running."
MacCready only glared at him, standing very still. He refused to allow him the pleasure of shooting him. Whether it was because he wouldn't back down from the challenge to do better or because he agreed that he should do better for Ruiz, Danse didn't know.
He felt one side of his mouth curling up and nodded, slowly. It was, however, one more character strength that could be added to a hopefully growing list.