MacCready looked through the scope of the sniper rifle they gave him. He could see the derelict shack clear across the range, within 600 yards, and rusted sheet metal flapped in the strong breeze. He sucked his finger and stuck it in the air - about 15 knots he reckoned. He went back to the scope, three mole rats rummaging under the cover of the shack's roof, they were ripping at a couple of old mattresses.
"Three little mole rats jumping on the bed, one jumped up -" He took a breath, stilled, then fired the first shot. "And I shot his fucking head." He reloaded and checked the scope. The mole rats had scattered but one came back to investigate. "Two little mole rats jumping on the bed, one jumped up -" He took a breath, stilled, then fired the second shot. "And I shot his fucking head." He reloaded and checked the scope. The third molerat had disappeared underground. It reappeared about 100 yards closer. "One little mole rat, came up from underground, one last bullet-" He took a breath, stilled and fired the third and final shot. "And his head now can't be found." He wiped his nose with his sleeve. "Dumb ass furry fuckers," he muttered.
He sat up from his prone position and turned to face the two large men who'd been standing behind him. Gunner Commander Davies and Gunner Sergeant English. Both had binoculars strapped around their necks.
"I told you. I know what the fuck I'm doing." He stood and brushed the dirt from the front of his jacket.
The taller and thinner man, Davies turned to the heavy set English. "You didn't tell me he was a mouthy little SOB." He then addressed MacCready. "Self-taught, hey?"
MacCready stood in front of them, his chest out and smug grin on his face and nodded.
"How old are you and what do you weigh?" Davies' tongue danced around in his mouth as he spoke.
"I'm eighteen and hundred and forty pounds, or thereabouts."
Davies snorted and looked over MacCready's wiry teenage frame. "You look younger. I'd say sixteen and hundred and twenty pounds soaking wet. Where are you from?"
MacCready stiffened. He lied about his age and weight and they saw straight through it. "I'm from Litt-" He stopped before he named his former home, no need for any more Mungos to know about it than necessary. He didn't know these people, but it took less than three molerat heads to realise they were assholes. "Big Town."
"Never heard of it. Mole rats are easy. But can you hit a human? Find the weak spot in armor? Can you hit a mutant or a ghoul before they run at you?"
MacCready's eyes narrowed. "Fuck yes I can. I don't need thoughts, words, or deeds. Give me guns, bullets and a target and I'll show you fucking heaven."
Davies started laughing. "I see you've had a secular education, MacCready wasn't it? Well, I guess a runt or two with good aim in the pack could come in handy." He sighed. "Welcome to the fucking Gunners." He turned back to the Sergeant. "He's all yours, English."
MacCready watched as Davies turned on his heel and walked back to what was the Gunners officer quarters.
"Right, MacReedy," he sneered.
MacCready scowled and was about to call him a bald fuck face, but thought better of it. The guy had at least 60 pounds on him and he wasn't up for a fistfight where he knew he'd easily lose. He knew when to pick his battles, and this one wasn't 500 yards away jumping on an old mattress.
"You need to go to Megaton. Go to Craterside supply. The merchant is Moira - she's got a shipment of clothes for us. Uniforms. Pick one for yourself." He chuckled. "If you can find one that fits."
"What? I didn't join to be a fucking errand boy." He spat in the dirt as the wind picked up on the range.
"You'll be a fucking errand boy until I say you're not a fucking errand boy. This isn't 'Big Town', it's the fucking Gunners and we do things by the book. Our fucking book. Want to clean the latrines instead?"
MacCready kept his mouth shut, he could see the Sergeant beginning to lose patience with him and he knew better than to keep it up. Too mouthy in Little Lamplight got you noticed, made you respected. Too mouthy in the Capital wasteland? With all the fucking Mungos you couldn't trust? You'd get your ass kicked and he'd already had it kicked more than once since leaving Big Town.
"Didn't think so. For a little guy from 'Big Town', you sure got a mouth on you. That might get you somewhere, or fucking nowhere. Don't fucking mouth me and we'll be good."
MacCready's tongue pushed against the inside of his cheek, enough to distract from the name calling and he held the rifle out to English.
English shook his head. "You can keep the gun."
MacCready's eyes widened. He could count on one hand the things he had been given in his life, a scarf, a bag of candy, his first packet of cigarettes. No one had ever given him a gun. "Really?"
"Yeah, really. That should be the only thing you trust from now on. Consider yourself lucky - maybe when you're down in Megaton you can get laid, I hear that Moriarty's Saloon specialises in picking cherries." He gave a cruel ugly laugh. "Now get the fuck out of my face."
MacCready snorted and when English was out of sight, he held the rifle and petted it. "You are a fucking nice gun. Baby, how could I not trust you."
MacCready sat on a bench at the Taffington boathouse, cigarette smoke billowing around him. He'd had little to do since he and the General had arrived three days prior; it worked to build up a nervous energy he just couldn't shake. Instead, he spent the days smoking and the nights drinking in an attempt to dissipate the unwelcome sensations that made his gaze bounce place to place and his legs jiggle. He sat back, leaned against the boathouse wall and watched as various settlers tended to crops and tinkered with machinery. There were children here, too. Their laughter rang around the boathouse and across the water like the white noise that too often filled his head.
He closed his eyes and thought of Duncan.
Cooking smells emanated from the window behind his head: razor grain stew, sweet and fragrant like a flower and his stomach rumbled. His thoughts drifted to Molly, her smell and the memory of the taste of her on his tongue. Part of his internal disquiet was firmly rooted in the dynamic that had evolved between him and Molly that night in Sunshine Tidings. She had needed comfort and he had given her anger and his own selfish needs, thinking he knew best. He'd wanted to pull her into reality but instead had pushed her away, he could see her indecision and unhappiness. She'd assured him more than once that all was good between them. However, he would have asked a hundred more times, if he thought at least once he could believe it. He didn't want to build up a resentment to her, like he had with so many others who had told him one thing only for the opposite to be true. He owed her an explanation for not taking the cure to Duncan himself, but, he wasn't ready for that conversation, and he wasn't sure he would ever be.
Every day the urge to leave all this mess behind grew stronger. He only stayed because he was sure it was the right thing to do, all the good she was trying to do, asking for so little from others. She gave, and kept giving even when others - when he - threw it back in her face or her motives questioned, and then have the gall to ask for one more favor. If anything he was sure about this, and he was rarely sure about anything except the gun in his hand, the caps in his pocket and the love for his son.
"I don't want to fucking think," he muttered and closed his eyes then rubbed a hand hard over his brow. "Sorry," he said louder this time. It was an apology meant for a boy far away and not laughing in his arms beside him.
"You'll have to be more specific about what you're sorry about, MacCready." Nick's heavy twang was clear and abrupt.
MacCready glanced up into Valentine's yellow eyes. He took a puff and blew smoke towards him and laughed when Nick waved it away from his face. "You can't tell me you don't like that, Valentine. I've seen you in the back corner smoking."
"I may be a second generation synth but my olfactory systems are working just fine, MacCready. I enjoy cigarettes because I'm imprinted with the memories and personality I was based off. It also means I'm imprinted with the dislike for having it blown in my face by assholes."
"Is that so?" he chuckled.
"I am, however, at the distinct advantage that my lungs won't die and what suffices for my heart will last as long as the circuitry. You though, I suspect yours will be already on the way to destruction given the amount of cigarettes I've seen you smoke since you arrived."
MacCready shrugged. "I have one vice, Doctor Valentine. Or have you come here to give me some fatherly advice?"
Nick chuckled. "Just one vice, hey? I guess that whiskey drank itself then. You know the ones the General put in the workshop for other purposes." His synthetic arm reached into his coat pocket and pulled out a packet of cigarettes and handed them to him.
MacCready started laughing louder this time. "You've just been telling me these things will kill me."
"I don't think I'm the fatherly advice type. Yeah, they could kill you, and possibly anyone who spends a lot of time in your presence. But, it's your choice and the people with fully functional lungs who feel a need to be around you, the onus is on them. So call it polite, but the General doesn't seem to like it much." Nick shuffled his legs under the bench. "Although she'd never tell me- tell us, to stop. Makes it easier not having the temptation around." He waved his hand in the air and stared into the distance.
"Very considerate of you." He didn't bother to hide the sarcasm in his tone. MacCready stubbed the end of the cigarette on the porch floor then kicked it into the grass alongside the rest of the butts he'd been placing there over the last three days. He bit at the nail of his thumb, already down to the quick. "You're right on that account, she doesn't care for it much- or at all."
"Which makes me wonder if you smoke so much why she's been taking you everywhere." Nick turned to look directly at him.
"I could say the same of you, Valentine." MacCready blinked and stared at him. If he could see inside Nick's brain he'd be sure he'd see cogs and wheels turning, the detective never far from the surface.
"I don't smoke much when I follow her around," Nick replied. "That's why I gave you the cigarettes, or did your ears close over when I told you?"
"What do you want, Valentine?" He licked his lips and folded his arms across his chest.
"What, you gotta be somewhere? Got another contract to fill? A word is all, or is that gonna cost caps?"
MacCready snorted. "Harsh." He wanted to find an excuse to leave, Valentine was too good as getting to the heart of things, and he wasn't sure in his current mental state he wanted to hear it. He sighed, resigned to the fact he wasn't going to move. "C'mon, spit it."
"I take it you and the General are not on good terms."
"What do mean? We're fine." MacCready chewed his bottom lip, the craving for another cigarette rising. "Even if we weren't -"
"Yeah, I know. None of my business, but the General-" He pointed to Molly who'd just stepped out on to the Boathouse porch. "She's my business."
"Still don't see where you're going with this, Valentine." MacCready had a hint of where Nick was headed. Nick, Piper, hell even Preston were wise on Molly's 'favouritism' towards him. They'd been discreet enough to not neck in public, though.
"All I'm saying is that my priority is to the General. If she's not happy, it makes my job that much harder. Everybody else's too."
"Hard work? Christ, Valentine, you don't ever sleep or need to eat what the hell are you talking about? Hard work?" He began to shake his head. "Just let me do my job and you go do yours. I'm not responsible for other people's happiness." A lump descended in his throat, last time he was-
"You keep telling yourself that, then. And I thought mud was thick-" Nick stopped talking when Molly approached.
MacCready sat on the stool, stripped down to only his underwear and undershirt, and rubbed his bare and bony arms. Moira, the merchant who ran Craterside Supply had taken pity on him when he'd come out from behind the counter wearing one of the new uniforms. She had suppressed a laugh and told him she would fix the damn thing, for a fee of course. Or if he didn't have the caps, she might do him a favour, help her with a little experiment.
The foot pedalled sewing machine whirred to a stop and she threw him the altered clothing. "Pants should fit, but there's only so much I can do with the jacket."
"Wow, they fit pretty good," he said as buttoned up the front.
She'd lit a cigarette and studied him as he put on the jacket. "Awfully young for a Gunner."
"I'm eighteen," he said in a sharp tone and folded his arms across his chest.
She laughed. "Sure you are. Anyway, do you have the caps? I don't think you'll be right for my experiment. I need someone a little more - substantial." She ran a thumb over her bottom lip. "Yeah, too young."
He dived back into his old pants and grabbed the caps. He counted them out realising he didn't have enough to pay what she asked after having said he did. "I've only got twenty five."
She held her hand out. "You owe me then," She said with a frown. "Make sure you come back this- wait." She held up a finger and stubbed out the cigarette in a nearby ashtray. "Can I have some blood? That's gotta be worth fifteen caps. At least."
MacCready rubbed his arm and frowned as he exited the traders. He threw the pack filled with uniforms over his back and pushed his way through the busy market. He'd been cold before, stripped down but now, with all the people around and the uniform he suddenly felt hot. Then he saw her. She was weaving in and out of people coming and going. Her was hair longer than when he last saw her and the silky dark waves were held back off her face with a green rag tie. He moved towards her and placed a hand on her shoulder.
"Lucy?" MacCready said in disbelief.
The young woman turned to face him, and he knew it was her. "MacCready?" She bit her bottom lip. "What are you doing here?"
"I could ask you the same, I thought you were in Big Town." There was a flash behind his eyes and he began to sway.
Concern broke over her face. "Are you alright?"
"I just gave the trader- the trader-" He pointed towards Craterside Supply but blacked out before he could finish his sentence.
When he woke it was her face he saw. He smiled. "Where's Red?" A shared joke remembered.
She shook her head and laughed. "Are you okay? Did Moira inject anything into you?"
He recognised the laugh, the warm feeling it always gave him and he felt instantly at home. "She said she wanted blood. I owed her fifteen caps. I didn't think anything of it."
"I see." She rubbed her hand across his brow. "She's a little odd. Don't ever agree to any of her experiments again, okay? Even if they appear innocent enough. Lately, I've had to treat more than one person based on those damn ideas of hers."
"Oh don't worry about me, I know what I'm doing. I'm fine." He sat up trying to hide his dizziness. He wanted to show her he still had the resilience of the mayor, even though he was now a lowly conscript.
She threw him a skeptical look and passed him some water."I didn't think I'd ever meet up with anyone else outside of Little Lamplight or Big Town." She shook her head excitedly. "But, I have. So, you. Is- is that a uniform you're wearing?"
"Yeah , it is." His thrust his chest out and looked up, a smug grin plastered his boyish face.
Her face lit up at his answer. "So, a soldier then? Do you have to go back to your company straight away? Can you stay? You can tell me what you've been up to since you left Little Lamplight? You can stay at my place. Do you want to stay at my place? It would be nice to have a familiar face around. Not that it looks quite like the one I remember. Where are you staying again?" There were few breaths between questions as she reached out and rubbed the stubble on his chin.
"Woah, hang on, Doc. One question at a time. I'm still a little lightheaded from that vampire trader." His face hurt from smiling in response.
"Sorry, sorry. I'm just- wow. MacCready. I still can't believe it's you." She was shaking her head and smiling. "Look, if you're okay, which you obviously are. I was just on my way home- are you hungry?"
Even in this brief meeting their dynamic hadn't altered. MacCready thought back to the rockfall in Little Lamplight, six years ago. He'd damaged his leg, broken in two places and it had hurt like a bastard. He had almost lost the limb in the process, and it was Lucy who'd watched over him. She'd calmed him with a few words and healed him with her skilled hands. He was the boss and she, now that Red was no longer around, the chief medic, and jokingly referred to herself as Mom. She had reasoned with him as mayor, chastised him even more, about decisions in the town, about allowing medical supplies from outside, about his cleanliness, about the constant stream of obscenities that left his mouth even when he was saying hello. When she wasn't telling him what a jerk he was being to others she was laughing at his bad jokes and his even worse language, and he found all it took was a moment for him to realise how much he missed her.
He was supposed to pick up the uniforms and head straight back to base, not dally. "Yeah, I am pretty hungry," he said. He couldn't contain his enthusiasm for the idea and his face wide grin would stay splashed there for the rest of his time in Megaton.
"MacCready. Nick." Molly nodded to each of them but remained standing.
"So when are you leaving, General?" MacCready asked. He looked at Molly, he knew the lines of her face well enough to see that behind her passive expression there was a hint of a smile in her eyes and the smallest of a curl to her lips. He liked seeing her this way, relaxed, happy even.
Molly leaned against the boathouse wall. "This afternoon."
"Oh, so soon-" A sense of guilt washed over him, he'd been sitting and drinking since they got here and she hadn't asked for help. Had he offered? He couldn't remember. She'd ask for help if she needed it. Wouldn't she? The sound of caps rattled in his head, another failure to pay his due.
"I want to make it the Diamond City by nightfall. I need to pick up my hazmat suit and I've got a few other errands need doing before we head further." She scratched her head under the brim of her hat. "Can you do me a favour, MacCready?" The tone of her voice was guarded, like she expected him to say no.
He nodded earnestly, eager to show her he wasn't just about sitting around on his ass, that he wanted to help and there was no need for her to be wary. "Sure, what is it?"
She handed him a key. Her fingers brushed against his but then withdrew, far too quickly for his liking.
"What's this?" He gave her a blank look.
"I don't know if you remember. But, last time I took Nick with me we went back to Diamond City, and I- I, well, I bought a house. Well, not really a house. Just somewhere to park my butt when in town. I thought I mentioned it to you."
"You mean a settlement? In Diamond City?" He frowned. He wasn't sure how an idea like that might work. "No, you didn't mention it."
"Oh." She coughed. "I must have forgot. Anyway, no, not a settlement. It's a space with a workshop and a small living area. It's a place I can call my own. I think maybe-" Her lip quivered and her eyes dropped. "I think I deserve that much. I'm not planning on having any settlers move there."
"You do deserve it, General." Nick said.
A hint of annoyance crossed MacCready's face and he glared at Nick. He just wasn't quick enough to reply. She deserved all the peace and space to park her butt away from all this shit. Her gorgeous sweet butt- his mouth went dry is it too early for a drink? He wanted to ask if any companions would be residing there. However, the question remained tight behind his lips, asking might lead to an unwelcome answer.
"And anyway Sun-" She paused, her eyes remained looking down. "And Sanctuary Hills is- too close to everything for me right now. Homeplate-"
"Homeplate?"
"Yeah that's what it's called. A place to hang my General's hat. Unwind. Be-" She gave an unforced wry laugh and he watched as her posture softened further. "Be me for a while. Privacy isn't really a big thing in the settlements."
Nick laughed. "Yeah even for a synth who never sleeps there is no privacy. You'd think I'd get a moment when everyone else is slumbering."
MacCready rubbed his chin and jangled the key. "So, what do you want me to do with this?"
"Last time I left you at one of the settlements you said you were bored, and you had too much time on your hands. I've only had time to partially set up Homeplate. It's got all the comforts but none of the necessities. I need some more done."
"And you're looking at me as some sort of interior decorator?" He laughed. "Good one, General. What do I do, how many vases you got?" He bit his tongue at what was meant to be a joke.
Her tone turned serious. "No-no I need a functioning weapons and armour workbench. I need storage and organisation for all the modifications I've picked up. I left one of the rare armour mods at the Starlight Drive-in and it was stolen. A pistol I modded was stolen, too. They can be replaced but I wa-" She sighed and rubbed her temple. "I need a safe place for things that I can't afford to lose."
His eyes narrowed and he looked into hers. His poor taste jokes aside, gone was the judgement he saw pass across her features when he told her he wouldn't be heading back to the Homestead to deliver Duncan's cure. Instead, there was something else written across her face. He studied her features. Her cheeks flushed pink, yet he could still see her freckled skin beneath her rosy countenance. Her lips were dewy and her eyes darted away from his continuous stare.
He ran a finger over his top lip and threw the keys up in the air, glad that she had finally asked something of him. "Okay, I can be of use then. Yeah, I can definitely do that, General."
"Good," She replied. It was as though the last few days of uncomfortable interaction between them melted with an open and soft smile.
"Does it need anything else? Like I said I'm not good at this decorating business."
"It has few couches, a few home comforts. I've repaired the floor in some spots, it has a carpet, I've even set up a bar. But, you'll have to stock it." She gave a quiet laugh.
"I think he can do that." Nick said.
He shook his head to the side and winked. "Thanks Nicky."
Nick's lips curled up at the corners without really smiling. MacCready thought it was likely the closest thing to what a synth might consider a dirty look.
"Does it have a bed already? Gonna take more than a few days, or a week or two even, to set up and well, caps aren't really flowing right now." He patted an empty pocket.
"Don't worry about the caps, MacCready. I'll leave some for you at Homeplate. If you need supplies, they can be sent from other settlements or take them from here when you leave." She looked away and down. "As for the bed, yes it has one. A very comfortable one."
"Do you mind me using it then?" He waved his hand indifferently, and observed her body tense at the question. The last time they had shared a bed was in Goodneighbor. Med-Tek had drained him- all that he wanted was for her to fold her arms around him. Like they had before they'd become intimate, a gesture of being close but without the expectations of more. Instead they had laid back to back, neither talking or touching.
"Of-of course not. You- you have to sleep somewhere," she stuttered.
"Hey, try not to let the good General's home stink like the smoker's den in the Fifth Rail," Nick added, an unhelpful remark considering what they were talking about.
MacCready sneered and stood to face Nick. "Wow, Valentine." He lay his hands on his chest in mock indignation. "It's not like I'm going to be staying there permanently." His eyes danced over to Molly.
Her face flushed rose again. "There's a balcony upstairs. If you want to put a chair up there and just keep the hatch open a fraction, it should be okay. Also there's some patio furniture outside, maybe, you could-" Molly scratched her chin. "It's not a big deal - you know, I'm just saying air the place out a little now and then."
He nodded. "I can do that. But, how long you gonna be gone, General?"
Molly shook her head. "I don't know."
"Well, no matter, consider it done, whether you're gone a week or month. It will be ready for you when you come home. Where is it?"
"Just off the Marketplace, just ask and someone will point you in the right direction. And thank you, it's much appreciated." She brushed her hand across his arm. The touch was so light, he could barely feel it. "C'mon Nick," She turned her attentions to the synth. "Let's get packed and ready to go."
Molly walked back towards the door and looked back, a weak smile came to her face. He watched as she took a deep breath and sighed as she stepped inside. He swallowed hard, it might be a long time until she returned and his heart sank at the thought. If she hadn't given him this job he was sure there wouldn't be enough cigarettes and whiskey to take over the emptiness. Nick stood to follow.
"Hey, Valentine." He grabbed a cigarette out of the packet he'd given him earlier.
"What is it, MacCready?" Nick turned to him.
He lit the cigarette and inhaled blowing the smoke out the side of his mouth and away from Nick this time. "Bring her- bring the General back in one piece, okay?"
"I'll bring her back, MacCready. I'll bring her back to that safe place for things that she can't afford to lose." He shook his head and looked like he was going to call him a jackass. "I'll bring her back," he said again then turned and ambled back into the Boathouse.
MacCready had never been astute at reading people. You don't need to read a person if you're first instinct is not to trust them. However, whatever Valentine had said he'd taken at face value. He knew the man- the synth- the detective who so many had trusted before, had Molly's best interest at heart, over his own safety even, that was some comfort at least. He sat back down on the bench and blew smoke rings in the cooling afternoon air.
Molly and Nick emerged from the boathouse and walked towards the road. Her pack looked heavy. He smiled as he watched her from the bench. She turned before disappearing through the gate wearing the same look on her face as before. The shape of Molly's lips as she smiled, the rose colour never hiding the freckles on her cheeks and her blue eyes that shied away if you stared too long, her overall expression, he knew it well and he knew that too much whiskey had dulled its memory. He knew it well because he had seen it many times before, on the face of another.
"Are you frightened?" Lucy closed the bedroom door and took both of his hands in hers.
"Me? Frightened? Nah." he scoffed. He was also lying.
The whiskey they'd been drinking had yet to kick in and his heart was beating so fast it might have leapt out of his chest and run around the town on its own. Up until that point, they had only just fooled around. Hugging, groping and kissing, for what felt like hours on end. Occasionally a little dry humping. He'd managed to squeeze his hand under her shirt on more than one occasion. He never pushed it further than that though. He'd taken some ribbing from the other conscripts when they found out he had a 'friend' in Megaton, and they assumed - wrongly - that they were sleeping together.
She squeezed his hands. "I am."
"You're what?"
She laughed. "Frightened."
"Oh yeah. Right." He swallowed hard. He had to try at least appear calm, even if such a show would only have the effect of putting her at ease and do nothing to his nerves that were now starting to rattle his bones.
Having the other conscripts know he had a girl gave him an out when it came to some of the social activities. He'd never really enjoyed drinking with them, and their insistence to hang in brothels and cheap bars not his style. More than once someone made the sounds of a whip at her mention - as though that was the reason he never came with them. The real reason was, he despised them all. Even though he fitted in because he could shoot straight and every second word he uttered was a curse, he was so apart from them in thought and attitude he wondered how they ever managed to be successful. All of them, the worst ones especially, appeared to live in devotion to violence. His policy was to shoot, then leave, but they- they revelled in cruelty, and it sickened him. He knew though, by staying, he was complicit, but if he didn't stay he didn't know how else he would survive, not yet anyway. The Gunners were becoming less like the career he hoped and more like the one he would regret.
He never told them her name and so she became 'MacCready's hole in the ground' and that was fine by him, the less they knew about her the better. He needed a layer several concrete walls thick between what he had with her and what he was doing with these mercenaries. As long as he could put up with these assholes he could collect a nice pay, live well and improve his aim. That was as long as he didn't think about who he was told to shoot.
He leaned in and kissed her. Soft and light. She also had a hint of whiskey on her lips, it tasted different though, sweeter. What did the magazine tell him again - start with a kiss and you go slow. It said a lot about the people he hung with- that he trusted a magazine over what the other conscripts had said. 'Treat 'em mean, keep 'em keen'. That wasn't his style. And Lucy, well, he cared for her. She was not only the person who he'd known the longest, but she was the only one he could ever see a future with, the only one he wanted to see happy amongst all the desperation around them and the only person who he never wanted to disappoint.
She stood back from him, pulled off her top, and her pants down. She stood in front of him in her underwear, her skin shimmered in filtered lantern light. He continued to stare at her, he didn't think he'd seen so much of her skin all at once before. She was tall, not as tall as he was, and very thin due to the many hours during the day on her feet. It made her legs long, lean and compared with his, shapely and extremely attractive. He felt a familiar constriction in his pants.
"Well?" she said.
"What?"
"Are you gonna get undressed? That's how it works. I know, I'm a Medic."
He swallowed hard again and began to undress not moving his eyes from her body.
She wrapped her arms around herself, it was the dead of winter and despite the small lit fire in Lucy's living room it never felt as warm as a fire in Little Lamplight. She twisted her body from side to side, waiting for him to make the next move. "I'm glad you came here, to Megaton." He could see the goosebumps on her stomach as he bent down to remove his pants. "And, I'm glad you kept coming back." Lucy's voice was soft and gentle.
"Ha, yeah me too." He took his clothes off slowly, aware that her eyes appeared impatient, expectant. He hoped he wouldn't disappoint. He'd been told he was skinny, scrawny, all skin and bones by others, but he didn't care about what they said. But he did care what she thought. When he'd removed all but his underpants, he stood and grabbed her hands, relief washed over him when after her eyes danced up and down his body, a large toothy smile came to her face. "I guess-" He nodded towards the bed. They shuffled awkwardly to the edge and laid down facing each other. He felt her shiver under the touch of his fingertips, so he touched her again this time gripping her sides and running his hands up and down from the curve of her hips to the curve of her breasts. His skin tingled to his toes. He knew he wanted more.
"You should take these off," she said as she ran her fingers along the length of his erection.
He closed his eyes. "That feels nice." She continued to stroke him through the grungy material. When he opened his eyes, she was studying his face.
He kissed her hard, pushing his tongue roughly into her mouth. It grazed against her teeth as she met it with her own.
He slid his hands down to his underpants and pulled them down one handed, the exposed elastic of the waistband making snapping noises and pulling on the hairs of his legs, not that he cared that it was painful. He shuffled them down and swished his legs enough to kick them off the end of the bed.
"Okay now you." He tugged at her bra.
Lucy sat up and turned her back to him. "Unclasp me." She held her hair up.
His hands traced down her spine to the bra's clasp. Again she shivered under his touch. "Shit, how does this work?" he said as he pulled and tugged but couldn't undo the fastening. She giggled and put both hands around the back and undid it easily.
She turned her head, her hair falling over his hand as he pulled the strap from her shoulder. His hands followed hers and he put them over her breasts as she leant back for a kiss.
She broke from the kiss and squirmed out of his grasp as she pulled her underpants off and threw them to join his on the floor.
She turned to face him again, put her hands on this cheeks and kissed him several times. It was as though all the blood rushed from his head to his groin and he pushed her on to her back and crawled over her, a bony knee hitting her hard in the thigh in the process.
"Ow," she said.
"Ahh sorry you okay?"
"Yeah, just-" She leaned up to kiss him again and banged her forehead on his chin.
"Shit, sorry," he said.
"No I'm sorry." She gave him a nervous laugh and another kiss.
"Oh fuck," he exclaimed.
"What? What's wrong?"
"Um, I don't have any- Jimmy Hats?" he said. According to the magazine you needed one of those to make sure that the woman didn't get pregnant. He'd left bossing around a mass of little shit head kids behind him in Little Lamplight, and he didn't think Lucy wanted to take up the mantle of Mom again quite so soon.
Lucy nodded and pointed to a drawer. "Remember I'm a medic?" She wiped a hand over her mouth to stop from giggling.
"Oh yeah, good, that's good." MacCready jumped off the bed and rifled through the mass of bits and pieces that Lucy had collected in her drawer. He found a red one and a strong sweet and spicy scent hit the air when he ripped it open. "What's that smell?" It was something he smelt occasionally in places but he didn't know what it was.
"It's cinnamon, it's a spice. The red ones have that smell. It's nice isn't it?" she said
"Yeah, yeah, I guess." He stood fumbling, his hands trembled and he almost dropped the condom on the ground. "Ahh, um, can you help me put it on?"
She laughed. "Come here, dummy."
MacCready stood at the side of the bed and handed her the condom. She rolled it skilfully on his erection. "Have you done this before?" He asked wide eyed.
"Does an ear of corn count?" She smiled up at him.
He looked at her, his brow knitted in confusion.
"Medic training - sex education."
"Oh yeah, of course. I didn't mean-" Not that it would have mattered in any case if she had done this before. He was already breathing heavy and when her hands reached the base of his cock, he moaned. "Wow, you do have a healing hands, a natural."
She snorted. "Shut up, you."
He shuffled on to the bed again as Lucy lay on her back and spread her legs. Lucy's house was tiny, the bedroom even smaller, and the bed, if you moved around too much while both of you were in it would see you bash against the house walls or roll off on to the floor.
Okay, what did the magazine say? Kiss her? Everywhere? Kiss her everywhere. Yeah that was it. He started at her knees and then her outer thigh up to her stomach where he lingered, enjoying the vibrations on his lips when she giggled at the sensation. He kissed each breast and then her neck making his way to her lips before breaking.
"You really want to do this?" he said breathlessly.
Lucy nodded and kissed him again. "Don't you quit on me, MacCready."
"No, never." He adjusted himself between her legs and leant on his arms and gently pressed into her. He stilled.
"Is it in?" She asked, her breathing laboured.
"Yeah, yeah, I think so."
He didn't know what to expect but he liked the change in warmth from being outside her to inside, far better than a hand and a barrel of Monkey Grease. He liked the feel of her, even through the Jimmy hat it felt good, though he'd read that it would dull the sensation. But then, he didn't know any better.
"You can move now, MacCready, just- just go slow, okay?" she whispered into his ear
She gave a quiet gasp when he first thrust into her then shifted under him and whimpered.
"You okay, Luce? You okay?" He stopped moving. "Shit, sorry I-"
"Keep moving, MacCready, keep moving. I'll be fine." Her hands wandered to his face to his arms and shoulders then back to his face and chin.
He kissed her cheek and her nose then moved and nestled his head in the crook of her neck. He felt warmer than he had all winter. He continued his slow movements, speeding up then slowing down all whilst she moaned and cried into his ear.
"This is good. So fucking good," he whispered and kissed her. She in turn moaned into his mouth spurning him to move faster and harder.
A few more thrusts and he felt the familiar tightness in his balls and followed his orgasm by several loud grunts as it came to a finish. He collapsed on to her and she stroked the back of his neck planting small kisses all over the side of his face.
So this was it, he hadn't expected it to be this exhausting, he hadn't expected to be so nervous either, but as it turned out, in the battle between his nerves and his cock, best man won out.
Then there was Lucy, the closest friend he ever had in Little Lamplight. He never imagined that one day he would be nestled in her arms, her hair falling on him and her lips on his face, the smell of spice and sex in the air, now he knew what that was. He never wanted this feeling to disappear and he hoped that she felt the same.
He lifted his head. "Did you?" he asked.
"Did I what?" He could feel her still shaking beneath him.
"Come?"
"Ah, I don't think so."
"Oh, okay sorry." He was sure that she was supposed to come too. That's what the magazine had said.
"Want me to show you how I do it?"
"Really?" There was no magazine article that could have prepared him for this. He knew that girls did this as much as boys did, the way it was talked about in Little Lamplight. But fuck, she was going to do it in front of him, and he'd get to watch. A grin split his face from ear to ear.
She nodded enthusiastically. "You're hands are clean, yes?"
He rolled quickly off her, pulled the condom off and dropped it to the floor then fanned his hands out in front of her. "Just a little bit messy, but that's your fault."
Lucy laughed, closed her eyes and licked her lips. He watched her intently, adoring everything about the experience. How her hand moved down slowly over her breasts and stomach. How she caressed herself through soft black curls and then dipped lower to retrieve more slickness for her fingers to glide. How the other hand danced up to her breast, and caressed her sides. How her eyes obtained a faraway look when she stared at him. How she grabbed his hand and guided him to her clit, her fingers pressed on his making him circle. "This, I like this," she whispered.
Most of all, he adored her moan and whisper of 'I love you' when she came.
MacCready woke and checked his watch. Five am. He'd had a fitful sleep and woken earlier at three only to toss, turn and doze. He dreamt of Molly, of Lucy and Duncan. His head cleared from the whiskey haze that hadn't done its job. What had she said? What had Valentine repeated? That she was storing things in a safe place, things she couldn't afford to lose.
He jumped out of bed, grabbed his pack, went downstairs and took a hurried leak into the river from the deck. He then grabbed some food from the pantry, and rummaged through the workshop bench. None of these places ever had enough copper or ceramics for good lighting so he grabbed some wire and old ashtrays. "Shit." He ran back upstairs and grabbed the packet of cigarettes Nick had given him.
He strapped his rifle to his pack. If he could make good time on the road, he might just reach Molly and Valentine before they left Diamond City. He took a deep breath as he stepped onto the crumbling asphalt. When he reached Homeplate, he would tell her everything.