Summary: Stuck in close quarters with Cooper, tension runs high, especially when you can’t stop thinking about how easily he gets what he wants.
Hi guysss!! Sorry for not being active for a while!!! Hope you’ll like this oneshot! I’m planing on posting more this summer!!!!
The place barely qualifies as shelter.
Half a roof. One intact wall. Just enough to keep the worst of the wind out, and not much else.
“Not a lot of space,” you mutter, stepping inside and glancing around.
Behind you, Cooper huffs quietly. “Ain’t a lot of options either.”
You turn, folding your arms. “Then you can take outside.”
He tips his head slightly, unimpressed. “Yeah, that’s not happenin’.”
“Thought you liked roughing it.”
“I like surviving,” he corrects. “Difference.”
Your jaw tightens.
You both look at the same spot at the same time.
A narrow stretch of relatively clean ground, tucked near the wall. Just enough space for one person to lie down comfortably.
Two, if they don’t mind, you look away immediately.
“No,” you say.
He lets out a low breath, something close to a laugh. “You saying that like you got a better idea.”
“I do,” you reply. “You stay over there. I stay here.”
“That ‘over there’ is a pile of rusted scrap.”
“Sounds like your kind of bed.”
He smirks faintly at that, eyes flicking over you in a way that makes something tighten in your chest. “You always this welcoming?”
“Only when I’m forced to travel with someone I don’t like.”
“Yeah?” he says, stepping closer. “Coulda fooled me.”
Your eyes narrow. “Don’t start.”
“I ain’t started anything.”
“You’re always starting something.”
“Only when it gets me what I want.”
And just like that, your mind drags you back.
5 hours earlier
“Not a chance,” you say, tightening your grip on the bag.
Cooper leans casually against the counter, like he’s got all the time in the world, even though the place is barely standing and the trader looks like he’d shoot first if things go wrong.
“You’re asking too much,” you add.
“I ain’t asking,” he replies smoothly. “I’m negotiatin’.”
You scoff. “That’s not negotiating.”
“It is if you’re listening.”
You glance at the trader, still watching, still waiting, then back at Cooper.
“You don’t even need it,” you mutter.
He shrugs. “Maybe not.”
“Then why—”
“Because you do.”
You freeze slightly, just for a second.
His smirk shifts, less cocky now, more… intentional.
“You really gonna walk away from this?” he murmurs, just low enough that only you hear it. “After all that?”
You hate that he’s right. Hate that he knows it.
“…You’re insufferable,” you mutter.
“Yeah,” he says. “But I get results.”
You ended up with the Rad-X. Not because of anything you said. Not because of any deal you made. But because of him.
You leaned back slightly, arms crossed, watching from the side as Cooper rested an elbow against the counter like he had nowhere else to be, his posture loose, almost lazy.
“Now, I’m just sayin’,” he drawled, voice smooth in a way that made it clear he knew exactly what he was doing, “you got yourself a real nice setup here.”
The trader, a woman with sharp eyes and a sharper grin, tilted her head, clearly not immune to it. “Flattery ain’t gonna lower my prices.”
“Wasn’t trying to,” he said easily, flashing just enough of a smile to make it look effortless. “Just calling it like I see it.”
You rolled your eyes slightly, shifting your weight. Of course. Of course he’d do this.
They went back and forth for a bit, but it wasn’t really negotiating. It was something else. Something slower. More deliberate.
He leaned in just a little closer at one point, voice dropping, saying something you didn’t quite catch, but the way she laughed after told you everything you needed to know.
Your stomach twisted. You looked away. Well, tried to. But your gaze kept flicking back.
The way he talked. The way he held eye contact just a second longer than needed. The way he made it all look so easy, like he wasn’t trying at all, like it was just who he was.
It was irritating. It was ridiculous. It was… you exhaled quietly, jaw tightening.
“…Alright,” the trader finally said, sliding the Rad-X across the counter. “But just this once.”
“Appreciate it, sweetheart.” Cooper replied, picking it up like it was nothing.
Like he hadn’t just shifted the entire situation in his favor.
He glanced at you after, brief and knowing. Like he was waiting for something. A reaction.
You scoffed, turning away before he could get one.
“Unbelievable,” you muttered under your breath.
“Got what we needed, didn’t we?” he said, stepping up beside you.
“Yeah,” you replied flatly. “By flirting your way through it.”
He huffed something close to a laugh. “If it works, it works.”
You shook your head, pushing past him. “It’s cheap.”
“Didn’t hear you complainin’ when you needed it.”
“I’m not complain—” you cut yourself off, jaw tightening again. “…I just wouldn’t do it like that.”
“Yeah,” he said, tone just a little too knowing. “I know.”
You didn’t trust it. Didn’t trust him. Didn’t trust how easily he could slide into something like that, how natural it looked.
And you definitely didn’t trust the way part of you, just for a second, found it a little too easy to watch.
——
“Problem?”
His voice pulls you back.
You blink, refocusing on the present, on him standing too close again, watching you like he’s waiting for something.
“Just thinking,” you say.
“Dangerous habit.”
“Yeah,” you reply dryly. “You should try it sometime.”
He chuckles under his breath. You hate that sound.
The wind picks up outside, pushing dust through the broken doorway, a reminder that staying out there isn’t an option.
You look at the space again. Then at him. Then back.
“…Fine,” you mutter.
His brow lifts slightly. “That easy?”
“Don’t make me change my mind.”
“Wouldn’t dream of it.”
You lie down first. Back to the wall. Facing away. Creating as much space as possible. Which… isn’t much.
You hear him move behind you, the shift of fabric, the quiet thud as he settles in.
You can feel the heat of him through the space between you, barely there, but enough to be impossible to ignore.
You stare straight ahead. Don’t move. Don’t react.
“Relax,” he murmurs after a moment.
“I am relaxed.”
“You look like you’re about to bolt.”
“I’m thinking about it.”
“Not much room for that.”
You grit your teeth. “If you move any closer—”
“I ain’t movin’.”
That’s the problem.
Silence settles. But it’s not quiet. It’s full of awareness. Of tension. Of everything you’re trying not to acknowledge. You shift slightly. Just to get comfortable. Your leg brushes his.
You freeze. He doesn’t move. Doesn’t comment. But you can feel it, the way he goes just slightly still.
“Accident,” you mutter.
“Didn’t say it wasn’t.”
“You were thinking it.”
“I think a lotta things.”
“Keep them to yourself.”
“Where’s the fun in that?”
You exhale slowly, trying to ignore the way your body refuses to settle, hyper aware of every inch of space between you. Or lack of it.
“You always this tense?” he asks quietly.
You don’t answer. Because if you do, it’ll come out wrong. Or too honest. Or both.
“…You’re not,” he adds after a moment.
That makes you frown slightly. “Not what.”
“Not someone who lets people get that close.”
Your chest tightens. You turn your head just enough to look at him over your shoulder. He’s already looking at you.
“You don’t know me that well,” you say.
“Don’t I?”
Your breath catches slightly. And you hate that it does. For a second, neither of you moves. Doesn’t speak.
Then you turn away again, pulling the thin blanket tighter around yourself like it’ll fix the space between you. Like it’ll fix anything.
“…Get some sleep,” he mutters after a moment.
You huff quietly. “You first.”
“I don’t sleep much.”
“Yeah. I noticed.”
Another pause.
“You trust me enough to do this, though.”
Your grip tightens slightly.
“Don’t push it.”
He doesn’t respond. But you can feel it, the faint shift, the smallest movement as he settles in just a little more.
You don’t move away. And sometime between trying not to think about it, and failing, sleep finally pulls you under. With him still there.
Note: I read something similar to this before, which is where I got my inspiration from! But I could not find the fic or arthor ;( please let me know if you find it!
Morning comes slowly in the wasteland.
Light creeps through the cracked blinds of the motel room in thin, dusty stripes, turning the walls gold and the air hazy with drifting particles. Outside, the wind pushes gently against the building, carrying the distant creak of rusted signs and the low murmur of early travelers on the road.
For once, nothing is urgent. No gunfire to be heard. No shouting drumming in your ear. No danger waiting just outside the door.
You wake slowly, still half wrapped in sleep, the warmth beside you grounding in a way the wasteland rarely allows. Cooper’s arm is draped around your waist, heavy and steady, his breathing slow against the back of your neck. For a moment you stay exactly where you are, letting the quiet stretch a little longer.
You look at him, a nearly peaceful expression resting on his face as his eyes remain closed. You had slept beside each other before, but this time felt different.
You would be lying if you said your relationship with Cooper hadn’t grown into something deeper than companions, perhaps even more than friends, over the past few months. It had started with small things, lingering glances, quiet smiles, subtle flirting that slowly turned into something far less subtle.
It had become its own kind of language between you.
And last night, you finally took it a step further. What began as a simple touch turned into a kiss… and before long, you were all over each other.
Now it’s the morning after, and the two of you lie half naked beside each other, quietly admiring the strange silence the wasteland can still produce.
Then you try to move. The world tilts.
It isn’t dramatic at first. Just a sudden wave of dizziness that makes your stomach tighten and your vision blur at the edges. You sit up too quickly, and the room sways hard enough that your hand shoots out to grab the edge of the mattress.
Your head throbs.
“Easy there, darlin’.”
Cooper’s voice is rough with sleep, low and close behind you. His arm tightens instinctively around your waist as he shifts awake.
“Where you rushin’ off to?”
“I’m not rushing,” you mutter, pressing two fingers against your temple. “Just—”
You stop. Your stomach lurches violently. You swallow hard, breathing through your nose as the nausea climbs higher in your throat.
“…not feeling great,” you finish weakly.
By now Cooper is fully awake.
You feel it in the way he moves, quick, alert, the lazy warmth of sleep gone in an instant. He sits up behind you, one hand coming to your shoulder to steady you as you swing your legs over the side of the bed.
The moment your feet touch the floor, the dizziness hits again. The room tilts sideways. You grab the bedframe before you can fall.
“Hold on,” he says quietly.
The tone in his voice makes you glance back. He’s watching you closely.
“You feelin’ sick?” he asks.
“A little.”
“How little?”
You shrug weakly. “Enough to complain about it.”
He doesn’t smile.bInstead his eyes move slowly over your face, lingering on the faint sheen of sweat along your temples, the way your hands tremble slightly where they grip the bedframe.
“You dizzy?” he asks.
“Yeah.”
“Head hurtin’?”
“Yeah.”
He nods once, thoughtful. Then you cough.
It happens suddenly, just a sharp reflex you can’t stop. You turn your head into your hand as the cough rattles through your chest.
The taste that follows makes your stomach drop. Metal.
You wipe your mouth with the back of your hand and freeze when you see the faint smear of red against your skin.
“…well,” you say quietly. “That’s new.”
Cooper’s expression changes. It isn’t panic. It’s worse. Something tightens behind his eyes, something heavy settling in his posture as realization creeps in.
He exhales slowly and reaches toward the small table beside the bed where a worn radiation counter sits among scattered supplies. The device clicks to life with a flick of his thumb.
For a second, the room is silent. Then the soft ticking begins. Nothing loud but steady. You stare at it. Then at him.
“Tell me that’s not what I think it is.”
The counter continues its slow rhythm. Cooper watches the reading for a long moment before lifting his gaze back to you.
“…Yeah,” he says quietly.
Your stomach sinks. Radiation.
You lean back against the mattress slowly, the dizziness making the motion feel heavier than it should. Your mind starts running through the last few days automatically, collapsed buildings, ruined reactors, cracked waste barrels.
Nothing stands out.
“We didn’t go near anything hot,” you say.
“No.”
“No reactors.”
“No.”
“No rad pools.”
“No.”
The silence stretches. Then your eyes meet his. Understanding settles in slowly.
“Oh.”
Cooper’s jaw tightens.
“Yeah.”
You let out a small breath, somewhere between a laugh and a groan, and rub your hands over your face.
“You’re kidding.”
“I wish I was.”
You glance at the ticking counter again. Then back at him.
“So what you’re tellin’ me,” you say carefully, “is that last night literally made me radioactive.”
“That ain’t exactly how it works,” he mutters.
“Feels close enough.”
He’s already moving.
Quietly, efficiently, like he’s forcing his mind into problem solving instead of whatever thoughts are clearly weighing on him. He crosses the room and kneels beside your pack, digging through it until he finds the small medical kit buried near the bottom.
You watch him for a moment.
“You’re being awfully calm about this,” you say.
“Panickin’ wouldn’t help much.”
“No, but it would make me feel less like the only one who’s mildly concerned.”
That earns a faint huff of amusement from him, though it doesn’t reach his eyes.
He pulls out a RadAway pouch and returns to kneel in front of you.
“Drink this,” he says, holding it out.
You wrinkle your nose immediately. “That stuff tastes terrible.”
“You’ll live.”
“That’s optimistic.”
Despite the joke, you take it. The liquid is just as awful as you remember, bitter, chemical, leaving a sour burn down your throat. Your stomach protests violently, and you sway slightly as another wave of dizziness rolls through you.
Cooper’s hand is there instantly, steadying you by the arm.
“I’ve got you,” he murmurs.
You lean back against the mattress, breathing slowly while the RadAway begins its slow work inside your system. The Geiger counter continues ticking softly on the table.
You glance at it again. Then at him.
“You knew this could happen,” you say quietly.
He doesn’t answer right away. His thumb moves slowly against your wrist as he checks your pulse.
“…Yeah,” he admits eventually.
You tilt your head slightly.
“Then why didn’t you say anything?”
His eyes lift to meet yours.
“Because,” he says carefully, “I didn’t think it would.”
“Why?”
A small pause.
“Because I was hopin’ it wouldn’t.”
“You were just horny.” You joke, not to his amusement. He huffs.
“Shut up”
For a moment neither of you speak. Then you squeeze his hand weakly.
“Well,” you say softly, “next time we schedule it around a RadAway dose.”
He stares at you for a second. Then he lets out a quiet laugh, shaking his head slightly.
“Sweetheart,” he murmurs, pulling you a little closer so you don’t tip forward again, “you’re somethin’ else.”
You manage a faint smile.
“Radiant, apparently.”
That actually makes him laugh properly this time.
But even as he does, his arm stays firmly around you, steady and protective while the RadAway slowly begins to quiet the counter’s steady ticking.
And for the next hour, he doesn’t let you out of his sight.
For a while, the RadAway seems to help.
The ticking from the counter slows, each click spaced further apart than the last. The dizziness fades just enough that you can breathe without the room spinning. Cooper keeps a steady hand around your wrist, quietly counting your pulse while pretending he isn’t doing exactly that.
Outside the motel window, the town is waking up. Voices drift up from the street below, a brahmin lowing somewhere nearby, the distant clang of someone opening a metal storefront.
For a moment, things feel almost normal again. Then your stomach twists.
You inhale sharply as another wave of nausea slams into you, stronger than before. Your vision swims, and suddenly the light in the room feels too bright, stabbing behind your eyes.
“Cooper—”
Your voice comes out thin. He notices immediately.
“What’s wrong?” he asks quietly.
You try to answer, but another cough cuts you off. This one is worse. Your whole chest tightens, and the metallic taste floods your mouth again.
“Easy,” he murmurs quickly, guiding you forward so you don’t topple off the bed.
The radiation counter on the table begins ticking faster again.
You press a hand to your forehead, breathing unevenly. Your skin feels cold and hot at the same time.
“Why’s it worse?” you mutter weakly.
“Sometimes RadAway stirs it up before it clears it,” he says calmly. Too calmly. Your hands begin to shake.
“Cooper,” you say again, more urgently this time.
The door to the adjoining room suddenly swings open.
Lucy appears in the doorway, hair slightly messy, eyes wide with alarm.
“What is happening in here?!”
You barely manage to look up at her. Lucy takes one step into the room and freezes when she sees you hunched over, pale and shaking while Cooper steadies you.
“Oh my god,” she gasps.
“Relax,” Cooper says immediately.
Lucy does not relax.
“She’s dying!”
“I am not dying,” you mutter.
Lucy points frantically at you. “She’s coughing blood!”
“That happens sometimes,” Cooper replies casually.
Lucy turns to him in horror. “That should not happen sometimes!”
Another wave of dizziness hits you and you sway again. Cooper tightens his grip around your shoulders to keep you upright.
Lucy’s eyes grow even wider.
“This is exactly how radiation sickness starts,” she says, voice rising with panic. “You get dizzy and then the internal organs start failing and then—”
“Lucy.”
She stops mid spiral. Cooper’s voice is calm but firm.
“It’s rad poisoning,” he says.
Lucy blinks. “Radiation poisoning.”
“Same thing.”
“But… how?” she asks, completely baffled. “We didn’t go anywhere radioactive yesterday.”
You and Cooper both look at her. There’s a brief pause. The two of you exchange a glance. Is she serious?
Lucy notices the look immediately.
“What?” she demands.
“Nothing,” Cooper says quickly.
Lucy crosses her arms. “No. That was a look.”
“What look?”
“That look where two people know something I don’t know.”
You groan softly and lean your head back against Cooper’s shoulder.
“Lucy,” you mutter weakly, “can we have this conversation later?”
Lucy throws her hands in the air. “Later?! She’s literally irradiated!”
“She’s fine,” Cooper replies smoothly.
“I am not convinced!”
The counter ticks again. Lucy notices the sound and rushes over to the table, staring at the reading.
“See?!” she exclaims. “It’s still elevated!”
“It’s goin’ down,” Cooper says.
“Very slowly!”
“That’s how RadAway works.”
Lucy turns back toward the two of you, clearly trying to piece something together.
“But if we weren’t anywhere radioactive…”
She looks at you. Then at Cooper. Then back at you again. Her eyes narrow slightly.
“…wait.”
You close your eyes. Cringing at the situation you’re in. Lucy points at Cooper.
“You’re radioactive.”
“Technically,” he says.
Lucy’s jaw drops open.
“You irradiated her?!”
“I did no such thing.”
“You absolutely did!”
“It was accidental.”
Lucy makes a noise somewhere between outrage and disbelief.
“People can’t accidentally irradiate each other!”
You cough again weakly from the bed.
“Lucy,” you croak.
She spins back to you instantly. “Right. Sorry. Focus.”
Cooper presses another RadAway pouch into your hand.
“Drink,” he says.
You grimace. “Again?”
“Again.”
Lucy watches the whole thing with wide eyes as you force down the bitter liquid. Then she looks between the two of you again.
“…I feel like I walked into the middle of something I really didn’t need to know about.”
“Probably,” Cooper replies.
Lucy pinches the bridge of her nose and exhales slowly.
“I am never letting either of you near something radioactive again.”
“We didn’t go near anything radioactive,” you mutter.
Lucy points dramatically at Cooper again.
“He is the radioactive!”
That actually makes you laugh weakly. Cooper shakes his head with a quiet chuckle.
“Relax,” he says. “She’ll be alright.”
Lucy eyes him skeptically.
“You sound very confident for someone who just gave his partner radiation sickness.”
“Partner?” Cooper repeats.
Lucy freezes.
“…that’s not the part you should be focusing on.”
You sink back against the pillow, exhausted but smiling faintly despite the nausea. Cooper adjusts the blanket around you and rests a steady hand on your arm again.
Lucy watches the two of you for a moment. Then sighs dramatically.
“I am going to pretend I don’t understand how this happened.”
“Smart choice,” Cooper says.
Lucy shakes her head.
“Next time you two have… whatever this is,” she says carefully, “please warn me if radiation is involved.”
You groan. Cooper just tips his hat slightly. And the counter finally begins to slow again.
—————-
By late afternoon the RadAway has finally started winning.
The rad counter’s ticking has slowed to a lazy rhythm now, each click spaced far enough apart that Lucy checks it every few minutes like she’s waiting for it to betray her again.
You’re propped up against the headboard with a blanket wrapped around your shoulders, still pale but no longer shaking. Cooper sits on the edge of the bed beside you, cleaning one of his revolvers with slow, absent movements. Every so often his eyes flick up to check on you.
Lucy, meanwhile, is pacing.
Back and forth across the small motel room like a very concerned scientist who has just encountered a confusing experiment.
“I still don’t understand how this happened,” she mutters for the fifth time.
You close your eyes briefly.
“Lucy…”
“No, because we were nowhere near a radioactive source,” she continues, gesturing dramatically with her hands. “The environmental radiation levels in this town are extremely low, and you both were perfectly fine yesterday.”
Cooper glances at you. You glance back. Here we go again. Lucy stops pacing and points at him.
“So the only explanation is prolonged exposure.”
He lifts an eyebrow. “That so?”
“Yes!” she says, clearly pleased with herself. “You must have slept extremely close together.”
You and Cooper both stare at her. Lucy nods confidently. “Radiation transfer through proximity. That has to be it.”
You pinch the bridge of your nose.
“Lucy,” you say slowly, “we always sleep close together.”
She blinks. “Well… maybe closer than usual.”
Cooper snorts quietly. Lucy keeps going, completely oblivious.
“Or maybe you were sharing blankets! Yes, that would increase the exposure rate. Or maybe—”
“We fucked, Lucy.”
The words come out flat. Matter of fact. The room goes completely silent.
Lucy freezes mid gesture. Her brain visibly short circuits.
“…you what.”
Cooper leans back slightly, clearly enjoying the moment.
“You heard her,” he says casually.
Lucy’s face turns bright red. Her mouth opens, then closes, and opens again.
“I— I didn’t— I mean I thought you were just—”
You sigh tiredly and sink deeper into the pillows.
“Yes, Lucy. That’s usually what people mean.”
Lucy covers her face with both hands.
“Oh my god.”
Cooper chuckles quietly beside you. Lucy turns away dramatically, still shielding her eyes.
“I did not need that level of detail!”
“You were makin’ charts,” Cooper says.
“I was trying to understand the radiation exposure!”
“Well,” you mutter weakly, “now you do.”
Lucy spins back around, still flustered.
“You can’t just say that so casually!”
“You asked.”
“I did not ask!”
“You kept guessing,” Cooper says calmly.
Lucy groans and drags her hands down her face.
“I am going to pretend this conversation never happened.”
“Smart,” Cooper replies.
Lucy points a finger at him.
“You are a walking health hazard.”
“Not the first time I’ve heard that.”
“And you,” she says, pointing at you now, “should be resting.”
“I am resting.”
Lucy squints suspiciously. Then she glances between the two of you again.
“…I’m leaving.”
“Good plan,” Cooper says.
Lucy grabs her bag and heads for the door, still muttering under her breath.
“I can’t believe that was the explanation…”
She stops at the doorway and looks back one last time.
“And next time,” she says firmly, “please warn me before anyone gets irradiated from— from—”
She gestures helplessly.
“…activities.”
Then she disappears into the hallway. The door shuts. Silence settles over the room again. You let out a tired breath.
“Well,” you murmur, “that went well.”
Cooper chuckles softly and sets his revolver aside before leaning back slightly against the bed.
“Could’ve been worse.”
“How?”
“She might’ve asked follow up questions.”
You groan. He rests a steady hand over yours, thumb brushing lightly across your knuckles.
The counter clicks once more. Then quiets again.
He glances at it, satisfied, before looking back at you.
“How you feelin’ now, sweetheart?”
“Less radioactive.”
“That’s a start.”
You tilt your head against his shoulder.
“Next time we schedule RadAway first.”
He huffs a quiet laugh.
“Next time we pick a less hazardous hobby.”
“Where’s the fun in that?”
He looks down at you, a faint smile pulling at his mouth.
“You’re trouble.”
“Apparently radiant trouble.”
That makes him laugh properly. And this time, the radiation counter stays quiet.
Summary: He left you to die. You survived. Now you’re face to face, and neither of you is over it.
Pt 1
The first shot cuts through the air before anyone has the chance to say another word, sharp and sudden, kicking up dust just a few feet to your left.
You move before you think.
Instinct takes over cleanly, your body slipping into something familiar, something easier than feeling, as you drop and slide behind the jagged remains of a concrete slab, weapon already raised, breath steady despite the way your pulse spikes. Somewhere behind you, Lucy hits the ground just as quickly, reacting to Cooper’s sharp “Down!” without hesitation.
Figures crest the ridge. Too many.
“Raiders?” Lucy calls, her voice tight but controlled.
“Yeah,” you mutter, already lining up your shot. “And not the friendly kind.”
“I was hoping for a different answer.”
You almost, almost, smile.
Gunfire erupts, and the world narrows into something sharp and precise, every sound and movement collapsing into a single line of focus. You fire once, twice, watching one of them drop before another steps forward to take their place, dust swirling around their boots as they push closer.
“Left!” Cooper shouts.
You don’t question it. You shift instantly, adjusting your aim, catching the movement just in time to take them down before they get too close. Lucy moves in sync nearby, careful and deliberate, not panicked, good. She learns fast.
A shot cracks too close. You duck, but not fast enough.
Pain flares along your side, sharp and hot as something grazes you, the impact knocking the breath from your lungs for half a second.
“Shit—”
Before you can recover, a hand grabs your arm. Cooper.
He pulls you back behind cover in one firm motion, his body shifting just slightly in front of yours without thinking, blocking the open line of fire like it’s second nature.
“Watch it,” he mutters.
Your breath stutters, not from the hit, but from that. From the way he moved. Like nothing has changed. Like you didn’t watch him walk away.
“Got it handled?” Lucy calls from somewhere to your right.
“Yeah,” Cooper answers.
Your jaw tightens.
You push the thought away before it can settle, forcing yourself back into the fight. “Move,” you say, slipping out from behind cover again before either of them can respond, not waiting, not looking back, just acting.
It doesn’t take long after that. Messy and loud, but fast. A few more shots, a few more bodies hitting the ground, and then the noise fades just as quickly as it started, leaving nothing but silence and drifting dust in its wake.
You lower your weapon slowly, eyes still scanning, checking, always checking. Nothing moves. Nothing breathes. Just the aftermath.
“…That it?” Lucy asks after a moment.
“For now,” Cooper replies.
You exhale, the tension loosening just slightly, just enough for the ache in your side to make itself known again. Not deep, not serious, but enough to remind you it’s there. You press your hand against it briefly, testing. Fine. You’ve had worse.
“You good?”
The words land before you can stop them. You go still. Because it’s him.
You don’t look at him, your gaze fixed somewhere ahead as your fingers curl slightly against your side. “…Don’t,” you say.
There’s a pause. “Don’t what?”
“Act like you care.”
Silence stretches, heavy and thick between you.
“Was just askin’,” he mutters.
“Yeah,” you reply, your voice colder now, sharper. “You were good at that before too.”
That lands. You feel it in the way the air shifts, in the quiet that follows, but you don’t give him time to respond. You turn away instead, because if you don’t, you might look at him, and you’re not ready for that.
“We should move,” Lucy says, her voice careful, stepping in before anything else can snap. “Before more show up.”
“She’s right,” Cooper agrees.
You nod once, short and sharp, an agreement without conversation, and start walking again.
You don’t notice it at first, not until a few minutes pass, but he stays closer now. Not to Lucy. To you. Just slightly, just enough that you feel it without looking, like he’s keeping track of where you are, like he doesn’t trust the space between you.
You hate that you notice.
By the time the sun dips lower, painting everything in muted gold and shadow, the air cools just enough to take the edge off the heat.
“We stop here,” Cooper says, nodding toward a half collapsed building ahead. No one argues.
The camp settles into a quiet that feels heavier than it should. Lucy gets a small fire going, focused and deliberate, while you sit off to the side with your back against the wall, just outside the reach of the light.
It’s easier there. From where you are, you can see them. You don’t mean to watch, but you do.
They talk, not much, just small things. Normal things. The kind of conversation that doesn’t carry weight. Lucy says something you don’t quite catch, and Cooper lets out a quiet huff that might be a laugh.
Your chest tightens. He sounds normal. Like this is just another day. Like nothing ever happened. Your gaze drops, fingers picking absentmindedly at a loose thread on your sleeve, focusing on something small, something meaningless. It’s easier than thinking. Easier than noticing how close she’s sitting to him, or wondering how long they’ve been traveling together, or letting your mind wander somewhere it shouldn’t.
“You should come sit closer,” Lucy says suddenly.
You glance up. She’s looking at you, not suspicious, not guarded. Just… trying.
“The fire won’t bite,” she adds with a small smile.
You almost laugh.
“I’m fine,” you say instead.
She hesitates, like she might push, but then just nods. “Okay.”
Cooper doesn’t say anything. But you feel it anyway. His eyes on you.
You shift slightly, pulling your jacket tighter around yourself as the ache in your side returns, dull and persistent. You ignore it. Like always.
“You’re bleeding.”
Your head snaps up.
You glance down briefly, confirming the faint stain spreading through the fabric. Nothing serious. “…It’s nothing.”
“Didn’t ask if it was nothin’.”
“I’ve had worse.”
“I know.”
The words come too easily. Too familiar. Something in your chest twists. You push yourself to your feet before it can settle. “I’ll handle it.”
You move toward the darker part of the room, away from the firelight, away from them. You barely make it two steps.
“Hold on.”
You stop. Don’t turn. You don’t need to.
You hear him stand, hear his boots against the ground as he follows, closing the distance until he’s just behind you, close enough that your breath catches despite yourself.
“I said I’ve got it,” you mutter.
“Yeah,” he replies quietly. “You always say that.”
“That’s because I always do.”
“Not that time.”
The words hit harder than anything else has. You go completely still. Because for a second, you’re not here anymore, you’re back there, on the ground, bleeding, watching him walk away.
“…Don’t,” you say again, but your voice is different now. Quieter. Sharper in a way that cuts deeper.
Silence stretches between you. Then, softer this time, “Let me see it.”
You hesitate. And that’s the worst part. Because after everything, after what he did, after what you survived, you still hesitate.
You exhale sharply. “Fine.”
You turn just enough, pulling your jacket aside slightly, not fully facing him, not giving him more than necessary.
His hand brushes yours as he moves.
“It’s not deep,” he mutters.
“I told you.”
“Still needs cleaning.”
“I’ll manage.”
“Yeah,” he says again, quieter now. “You usually do.”
Something in the way he says it makes your throat tighten. You hate it. You hate that it does.
From across the room, you can feel Lucy watching, her confusion almost tangible, like none of this makes sense to her.
Honestly, it doesn’t make sense to you either.
Because you don’t understand how he can stand this close again. How he can look at you like that, like you’re not something he already lost.
You step back, breaking the space.
“I said I’ve got it.”
This time, it sounds like a warning.
He studies you for a second, then nods once and steps back, finally giving you the distance you need.
But the air doesn’t settle. It stays tight.
Later, when the fire burns low and Lucy drifts off to sleep, you’re still awake, staring into the dark, listening, thinking too much.
You hear him before you see him. A soft shift beside you. You don’t look. You already know.
“…You should rest,” he says quietly.
You let out a slow breath. “Don’t start.”
“I ain’t.”
“Sounds like it.”
A pause. Then, softer, “You still do that.”
You frown slightly. “Do what?”
“Stay up. Pretend you’re not hurt.”
Your chest tightens. “…Old habits.”
“Yeah.”
Silence settles again, heavier this time.
You glance at him despite yourself. He’s closer than before, not touching, but close enough to feel.
“…Why didn’t you come back?” you ask before you can stop yourself.
The question hangs between you. He doesn’t answer right away. Of course he doesn’t.
“…I thought you were dead,” he says finally.
Your stomach twists.
“That’s not an answer.”
“It’s the only one I got.”
You look away. Because it’s not enough. It’ll never be enough.
“…You don’t get to act like this didn’t matter,” you say quietly.
“I ain’t.”
“Then what are you doing?”
He doesn’t respond. And somehow, that hurts more than anything else. Behind you, Lucy shifts in her sleep, murmuring softly. You both go quiet. You don’t move away. But you don’t get any closer either. And for now, that’s the closest thing to peace you’re going to get.
The quiet doesn’t last. It never does.
You don’t realize you’ve drifted, just a little, not fully asleep, just far enough to escape your own thoughts, until something shifts beside you. A small sound. Fabric moving.
You open your eyes instantly. Lucy.
She stirs, pushing herself up slightly, rubbing at her eyes as she looks around, disoriented for a second before her gaze lands on you. Then shifts.
To him.
And something about the way the two of you are sitting, too close, too quiet, too aware of each other, makes her pause.
“…Did I miss something?” she murmurs.
Your body tenses immediately, like you’ve been caught doing something you shouldn’t be.
Even though you haven’t. Even though nothing happened.
Still, you shift back slightly, putting a bit more space between you and Cooper without thinking.
“No,” you say quickly. Too quickly.
Lucy’s eyes narrow just a fraction. She doesn’t believe you.
“…Right,” she says slowly, glancing between the two of you again.
Her gaze lingers on Cooper this time. Then back to you.
“…You two are acting weird.”
Your jaw tightens.
“We’ve been acting weird,” you correct.
“Yeah,” she says. “But this is different.”
You don’t answer. Because you don’t know what to say. Because she’s not wrong.
Cooper exhales quietly beside you, like he’s already tired of this conversation before it properly starts.
“It ain’t complicated,” he mutters.
Lucy looks at him immediately. “It feels complicated.”
“It ain’t.”
“Then explain it.”
Silence. You almost laugh.
Because if there’s one thing Cooper doesn’t do, it’s explain.
“…We used to run jobs together,” he says finally.
Lucy blinks. “That’s it?”
“That’s it.”
Your fingers curl slightly into your sleeve. That’s not it. Not even close. But you don’t correct him. You don’t want to open that door. Not in front of her.
Lucy looks between you again, clearly unsatisfied.
“…You don’t usually react like that to old coworkers.”
You huff quietly, unable to stop yourself. “You don’t know him that well.”
“I know enough.”
“Do you?”
The words slip out sharper than you intend. Lucy goes a little still at that.
“…I’m trying to,” she says.
And something about that, about how genuine it sounds, makes your chest twist in a way you don’t like. You look away. Because you don’t want to feel that.
Because you don’t want to think about how long she’s been with him. How close they are. How easily she talks to him.
Cooper shifts slightly beside you.
“Drop it,” he says, quieter this time.
Lucy hesitates.
Then exhales. “…Fine.”
But she doesn’t look convinced. Not even a little.
The silence that follows is different.
You stand after a moment, brushing your hands against your pants, needing to move, needing to not sit there with them, like that.
“I’m getting some air,” you say.
You don’t wait for a response.
You step outside into the cool night air, the darkness wrapping around you in a way that feels easier than the weight inside that room.
The night is quiet. You move a few steps away from the building, arms crossing loosely over your chest as you stare out into the empty stretch of land ahead.
Your thoughts catch up to you fast. He looks fine. The thought slips in before you can stop it. Like nothing happened. Like leaving you behind didn’t stick to him at all. Your jaw tightens. That’s who he is.
Footsteps behind you. You don’t turn.
“…You always walk off when things get uncomfortable?”
Your chest tightens slightly at his voice.
“Only when I don’t feel like dealing with them.”
“Sounds about right.”
You let out a quiet breath.
“Don’t you have someone else to check on?”
It comes out sharper than you mean. Or maybe exactly as sharp as you mean. There’s a pause behind you.
“…You talkin’ about Lucy?”
You don’t answer. You don’t need to. Another step closer. You can feel him there now.
“You got somethin’ you wanna say, just say it,” he mutters.
You turn then, finally, your eyes locking onto his.
“Why?” you ask. “So you can ignore that too?”
His jaw tightens.
“That ain’t fair.”
You laugh softly, but there’s no humor in it. “No? You wanna talk about fair now?”
“Don’t twist this.”
“I’m not twisting anything.”
Your voice rises just slightly, not loud, but enough to crack through the quiet.
“You left me, Cooper.”
He exhales sharply, running a hand down his face like he’s trying to keep something contained.
“I’ve heard that part.”
“Then maybe you should actually listen to it.”
For a moment, neither of you move.
“…You weren’t supposed to make it,” he says.
Your breath catches. That same line. That same excuse.
“Yeah,” you say quietly. “I figured that out.”
“That’s not—”
“That’s exactly what it is.”
You step closer now. Not backing down. Not this time.
“You looked at me and decided I was already dead.”
His eyes flash.
“I made a call.”
“You made the wrong one.”
The words land hard. They sit between you, sharp and undeniable. Something shifts in his expression then.
“…You think I don’t know that?” he says, voice lower now.
Your chest tightens. For a second, everything stills. The words you’ve been holding onto for so long. You look past him. Back toward the building. Back toward her. And it all comes rushing back.
“You moved on fast,” you say instead.
The words are quieter. But sharper than anything you’ve said so far.
He frowns. “What?”
You gesture vaguely behind him. “Her.”
A small, almost disbelieving exhale.
“That what this is about?”
Your stomach twists. You hate that reaction. Hate how easy he makes it seem.
“No,” you snap. “It’s not about that.”
“Sure sounds like it.”
“I don’t care who you—”
You stop yourself.
His eyes narrow slightly.
“…You don’t care?”
You hold his gaze. Force it steady.
“No.”
A lie. You both know it. Silence stretches.
“…You’re a terrible liar,” he mutters.
Your chest tightens.
“Shut up.”
For a second, neither of you move. Just stand there. Behind you, the door creaks softly.
“…Am I interrupting?” she asks carefully.
You step back immediately. Breaking the moment. Breaking whatever that was.
“Yeah,” you say.
At the same time Cooper mutters, “No.”
Lucy blinks. Looks between you. More confused than ever.
The door creaks again after Lucy steps back inside. You don’t follow her. You don’t move at all. For a second, neither of you do.
The air between you feels too tight now, like something’s been pulled too far and hasn’t snapped, yet.
“You always do that,” Cooper mutters after a moment.
You don’t look at him. “Do what.”
“Change the subject when it gets too close.”
Your jaw tightens. “I didn’t change anything.”
“You did”.
Then you turn, just enough to face him again, your eyes sharp. “You don’t get to decide what this is.”
“And you don’t get to pretend it ain’t there.”
“It isn’t,” you snap.
Even as you say it, you know it’s a lie. He knows it too.
“You really gonna stand there and tell me you don’t care?” he asks, voice lower now, rougher in a way that scrapes at something under your skin.
“I don’t,” you say.
His gaze doesn’t move.
“Yeah,” he murmurs. “You’re a terrible liar.”
“Shut up.”
“Make me.”
The words land heavier than they should. Your breath catches. Just for a second. And that’s all it takes.
You step closer before you can stop yourself. Or maybe you just stop holding yourself back.
“Don’t push me,” you say, but it comes out quieter now, less like a warning and more like something fraying at the edges.
“Then stop givin’ me a reason to.”
You let out a breath that almost sounds like a laugh. “You think this is on me?”
“I think you’re the one actin’ like nothin’ happened.”
“Because nothing changed,” you fire back. “You left. That’s the part that stayed the same.”
Something flickers in his expression, sharp, quick, gone just as fast.
“Yeah,” he says. “And you’re still here.”
Your chest tightens.
“That’s not the point.”
“Then what is?”
You hesitate. And you hate that you do. Because there are too many answers. None of them simple. None of them safe.
“…You don’t get to act like you can just walk back into this,” you say finally, quieter now. “Like I’m supposed to just, what? Be fine with it?”
“I didn’t say that.”
“You didn’t have to.”
The words fall between you, heavy and unfinished. For a second, neither of you speaks. Neither of you moves
Just standing there, too close, too aware, everything you’ve been holding back pressing right at the surface.
“You think I forgot?” he asks suddenly.
Your breath catches.
“I thought you were dead,” he continues, voice lower now, not as sharp, not as guarded. “I walked away thinkin’ that was it.”
Your throat tightens.
“That doesn’t fix it.”
“I know.”
The quiet way he says it throws you off more than anything else. Because he’s not arguing.
“You don’t get to—” you start, but your voice falters slightly, catching on something you didn’t mean to let through.
His eyes flick down to your mouth. Then back up. The space between you feels smaller. Like it’s closing in.
“Say it,” he murmurs.
“Say what?”
“Whatever it is you’re not sayin’.”
You shake your head slightly. “You don’t want to hear that.”
“Try me.”
“You don’t get to stand here,” you say, your voice quieter now but steadier in a different way, “and look at me like that. Like you didn’t leave. Like I didn’t have to—”
Your words cut off. Because you don’t finish that sentence. You don’t say what it took to survive. What it felt like. You don’t give him that. His hand moves before you can react.
Fingers brushing your arm, testing.
“Yeah,” he says quietly. “I know.”
“You don’t,” you whisper.
“Then tell me.”
You shake your head again. “No.”
Because if you do, If you let that out, you don’t know what happens after.
Your breathing feels too loud. His feels too close.
“You moved on,” you say instead.
It slips out softer this time. More honest.
His brow furrows slightly. “You’re still on that?”
“You weren’t alone.”
“And you think that means somethin’?”
“It means you didn’t stay,” you say, your voice tightening despite yourself. “Not then. Not after.”
He studies you for a second. Really studies you.
And something in his expression shifts again, something quieter, more understanding than you want it to be.
“…That what you think this is?” he asks.
You don’t answer. Because you don’t trust what you’d say. He exhales slowly, then steps closer.
You should step back.You don’t.
“You always did this,” he murmurs.
“Did what.”
“Act like you don’t care, even when it’s writ all over you.”
“Shut up,” you whisper again, but there’s no bite left in it.
His hand is still on your arm. Warmer than it should be. Familiar in a way that makes your chest ache.
“You’re still here,” he says again, softer this time.
You swallow. “So are you.”
“Yeah.”
And that’s it. That’s all it takes. You don’t think about it. You don’t plan it.
You just, move.
Closing the space between you in one sharp breath, your hand catching the front of his shirt as you pull him toward you, your mouth crashing into his before your mind can catch up.
It’s not soft. It’s not gentle.
It’s years of anger and unfinished words and something that never really went away, all hitting at once.
He freezes for half a second, then responds. Just as rough. Just as desperate.
His hand tightens at your side, pulling you closer like he’s making sure you’re actually there, like you might disappear if he lets go.
Your grip tightens, breath catching, everything too much and not enough all at once.
It breaks just as suddenly.
You pull back first, breath uneven, chest rising and falling too fast. He doesn’t move far. Doesn’t let you.
“That doesn’t fix anything,” you say, your voice quieter now, rough around the edges.
“Didn’t say it did,” he replies.
Your eyes meet. And for a second, there’s something there. Not resolved nor healed. But not broken in the same way anymore.
Inside, the floor shifts softly. You both glance toward the door. Then back at each other.
Nothing is fixed. Nothing is simple. But neither of you walks away.
And somehow, that matters more than anything else.
Summary: Cooper reunites with someone he left behind to die, only to find she survived, and never forgave him.
Pt 2
The job had gone wrong long before either of you said it out loud.
You could feel it in the air, the kind of wrong that settled in your chest and refused to move. Like the wasteland itself was holding its breath.
“Something ain’t right,” Cooper muttered beside you, his voice low as his eyes scanned the ruined structure ahead.
You adjusted your grip on your weapon. “You say that about everything.”
“Yeah,” he said. “And I’m usually right.”
You huffed, but you didn’t argue. Because he was.
The first shot came from nowhere.
A crack split the air, sharp and sudden, and the wall beside you exploded into dust and debris. You barely had time to react before Cooper grabbed your arm, “Move.”
You ran. More shots followed. Too many.
“Ambush!” you shouted.
“No shit!”
Figures moved in the distance, shadows at first, then clearer. Armed. Closing in fast.
You ducked behind what used to be a doorway, breath coming hard as you tried to get a read on them.
“There’s too many,” you said.
Cooper fired once, twice, forcing a couple of them back. “We ain’t stayin’.”
“No argument there.”
He grabbed your wrist again, pulling you through the back of the structure, boots crunching over broken concrete as you both pushed toward open ground.
For a second, just a second, you thought you might actually make it.
Then, pain. Your leg gave out beneath you, and you hit the ground hard, a sharp cry tearing from your throat before you could stop it.
“Shit—” Cooper dropped beside you instantly. “Where?”
“Leg,” you gasped, teeth clenched. “I—I can’t—”
Blood soaked through your pants, dark and fast. Gunfire cracked closer now.
Cooper’s head snapped up, eyes scanning, calculating. Always calculating.
“Get up,” he said, already trying to pull you.
You tried. God, you tried. But the second you put weight on it, your vision blurred and your body just, refused.
“I can’t,” you said, breath shaking. “Cooper—I can’t—”
Another shot hit the ground near yo, closer now. You both froze for half a second. And in that half second, you saw it. The decision.
“No,” you said immediately, grabbing his sleeve. “Don’t—”
“You ain’t makin’ it,” he said, voice tight, controlled in that way that meant he was already halfway gone. “They’ll catch us both.”
“Then we fight,” you snapped. “We’ve handled worse—”
“Not like this.”
His hand tightened on your arm, then slipped away. You felt it like something tearing.
“No,” you said again, sharper this time, panic rising fast. “You don’t get to decide that.”
Another burst of gunfire. Your heart slammed against your ribs. “Cooper.”
He didn’t answer.
“Cooper!”
His eyes met yours then. And for a second, just a second, everything else faded. The noise. The danger. The wasteland. It was just him. And something in his expression cracked. Not wide open, but enough. Enough that you saw it. Regret.
“I ain’t got a choice,” he said.
Your grip tightened on him. “You do.”
Silence. A beat that felt too long. His jaw clenched. And he pulled away.
“No!” You tried to push yourself up again, pain shooting through your leg so hard it made you dizzy. “Don’t yo, don’t you dare—”
“I’ll draw ‘em off,” he said quickly, already backing away. “You stay low. You—”
“Don’t say that like I’ll be fine!”
He didn’t stop. Didn’t come back. Just kept stepping away, eyes locked on yours like he was trying to memorize something he didn’t deserve to keep.
“You’re not leaving me,” you said, voice breaking now despite yourself. He didn’t respond.
“Cooper!”
Another shot rang out, forcing him to turn, And that was it. The moment snapped. He moved. He was gone.
You were left with the echo of his footsteps fading into the distance. And the sound of your own breathing.
“…You bastard,” you whispered, the words catching in your throat.
Not loud enough for him to hear. Not that it mattered. Because he didn’t come back. The silence didn’t last long.
Boots and voices.
You forced yourself to breathe slower, pressing your body flat against the cracked ground, dragging yourself, inch by inch, toward what little cover you could find. Every movement sent sharp, blinding pain up your leg, but stopping wasn’t an option.
Not now. Not when he was gone.
“…Spread out,” someone barked in the distance. “They couldn’t have gotten far.”
Your jaw clenched.
’They’.
They still thought there were two of you. Good, let them.
You shifted your weight, biting down hard on your sleeve as your injured leg scraped against the ground. The copper taste of blood filled your mouth as you stifled the sound trying to escape.
You weren’t dying here. Not like this. Not because he decided you would.
A shadow passed too close. You froze, and didn’t breathe, didn’t think.
“…Nothing over here,” the voice muttered after a moment, footsteps moving on.
You stayed still long after they were gone. Just in case.
Time blurred after that. You didn’t know how long you lay there before the gunfire faded completely. Minutes. Hours. It all felt the same, one long stretch of pain and silence and the steady, pounding thought in your head, ’Move’.
So you did. It wasn’t graceful. It wasn’t fast. It was ugly survival.
You tore a strip from your shirt, hands shaking as you wrapped it tight around your leg, pressing hard enough to make your vision swim. The bleeding slowed, barely, but it was enough.
It had to be.
“Come on,” you muttered to yourself, voice hoarse. “Come on, move.”
You pushed yourself up. The world tilted. For a second, you thought you were going to pass out right there, but you didn’t. You refused to.
You found a piece of rebar, half buried in the rubble, and used it to pull yourself upright, weight shifting off your injured leg just enough to stay standing.
Every step after that felt like walking through fire. But you kept going.
You didn’t follow him. You didn’t even consider it. Not after that.
Not after the way he looked at you, like he’d already decided you were gone.
So you went the opposite direction. By the time night fell, you were shaking.
From blood loss. From exhaustion. From the cold creeping into your bones now that the adrenaline had worn off.
You found shelter in what used to be a collapsed storage room, barely more than a corner of intact wall and a rusted door hanging off its hinges.
It would have to do. You slid down against the wall, your injured leg stretched out in front of you, and finally, finally, let yourself stop.
Your hands were still pressed tight against the wound. Still trying to hold yourself together.
“…You made it,” you whispered.
It didn’t feel real. Not yet.
———
The anger came later. Quiet at first. Then sharp and louder.
“You left me,” you said into the empty space, your voice echoing faintly off broken concrete.
Saying it out loud made it heavier. More real. Your throat tightened.
“He left me,” you corrected, like it mattered who you were saying it to.
Your head tipped back against the wall, eyes staring up at nothing.
For a second, just a second, you thought about what would’ve happened if you hadn’t moved.
If you’d stayed where you fell. If you’d trusted him to come back. A hollow laugh slipped out.
“Yeah,” you muttered. “That would’ve gone well.”
You didn’t sleep much that night.
Every sound pulled you back to awareness, your hand tightening around the weapon you’d kept close, your body refusing to fully relax. Alone. Completely alone.
Morning came slow. You were still there. Still breathing. Still alive. And something in you… shifted.
Enough to understand one thing clearly, no one was coming back for you. Not him. Not anyone.
————
You learned fast after that. How to move with the injury. How to ignore the pain. How to stay out of sight.
How to survive without depending on anyone else.
But every now and then, usually in the quiet moments, when there was nothing else to focus on, your mind would go back to it. To him.
To the way he looked at you right before he left. Not cold or uncaring. Just… decided. And that almost made it worse.
Because part of you understood it. And part of you hated him for it anyway. By the time your leg healed, the scar had set in deep. A reminder you couldn’t ignore. Didn’t want to. Not really. It kept things clear. Kept it simple.
You didn’t look for him. Didn’t ask about him. Didn’t need to. Because if you ever saw him again, you already knew exactly what you’d say.
“You don’t get to walk away from me twice.”
—————
The road stretched endlessly ahead, cracked and sun bleached, like it had given up trying to be anything more than a reminder of what used to be.
Lucy adjusted the strap on her bag, trying not to focus on how the heat clung to everything, her clothes, her skin, even the air felt heavier out here.
Cooper didn’t seem to notice.
He walked a few steps ahead, steady and unhurried, like the wasteland belonged to him. Hat tipped low, hands loose at his sides, eyes always moving, even when it didn’t look like it.
Lucy had learned that part quickly.
“You ever get tired?” she asked, mostly just to break the silence.
“Nope.”
She frowned slightly. “That doesn’t feel true.”
“It ain’t about feelin’.”
That was… not helpful.
Lucy sighed quietly, stepping over a chunk of broken asphalt. “I mean, physically. You’ve been walking for hours.”
“So have you.”
“Yes, but I’m tired.”
“Then you should rest.”
“You didn’t suggest stopping.”
“You didn’t ask.”
Lucy blinked.
“…I feel like you’re doing that on purpose.”
Cooper glanced back at her briefly, just enough for her to catch the faintest hint of something like amusement in his expression.
“Do what?”
“Making conversations harder than they need to be.”
“Builds character.”
“I already have character.”
“Could always use more.”
Lucy huffed, but a small smile tugged at her lips despite herself. For a moment, things felt… almost normal. Or as close to normal as anything out here got.
They walked in silence for a while after that. Not uncomfortable.Just… quiet. Lucy found herself watching him again. It was hard not to.
There was something about Cooper that didn’t quite line up. He moved like someone who’d been doing this too long, spoke like someone who’d stopped caring about certain things, but every now and then, something slipped through.
A pause that lasted a second too long. A look that didn’t match his words. Like earlier. When they’d passed that old building. Lucy had barely glanced at it, just another ruin, but Cooper had slowed.
Just slightly. Enough for her to notice.
“You been here before?” she asked.
He didn’t answer right away.
Then, “No.” Too quick. Lucy tilted her head. “You sure?”
“Yeah.”
Another pause. Then he added, quieter, “Looks like every other place out here.”
Maybe. But the way he’d looked at it hadn’t felt like “every other place.”
Lucy didn’t push. Not this time. By the time the sun started dipping lower, the air had shifted, cooler, but heavier somehow, like night was already creeping in.
“We should stop soon,” Lucy said.
“We will.”
“That didn’t sound reassuring.”
“It wasn’t meant to.”
She rolled her eyes slightly, but kept walking. A few steps later, Cooper slowed. Not just slowed, stopped. Lucy nearly walked into him.
“What?”
He lifted a hand slightly, signaling her to stay quiet. Her breath caught. The shift in him was immediate.
Gone was the dry, almost lazy attitude. His posture straightened just a fraction, head tilting like he was listening to something she couldn’t hear.
Lucy stayed still.
“…We ain’t alone,” he said finally, voice low.
Her stomach tightened.
“Raiders?” she whispered.
“Don’t think so.”
That didn’t make her feel better. He stepped forward again, slower now, more deliberate. Every movement controlled, careful.
Lucy followed, her own senses sharpening, eyes scanning the horizon, the broken structures nearby, the stretches of open land that suddenly felt a lot less empty.
“You see anyone?” she asked.
“Not yet.”
“Stay behind me.”
She didn’t argue. The wind picked up slightly, carrying dust across the ground in thin, shifting lines. Lucy’s heart pounded a little faster. There was a feeling in the air now. Not just danger. Something else.
Something… waiting. Cooper’s pace slowed again. Then stopped. Lucy looked up at him, about to ask, when she saw it. The way his shoulders went still. Like something had caught him off guard. That alone made her chest tighten. Because Cooper didn’t get caught off guard.
“…What is it?” she whispered.
He didn’t answer. His gaze was fixed somewhere ahead. Lucy followed it. And that’s when she saw you. Standing just far enough away to not be a threat. But not far enough to be ignored.
The air shifted. Lucy felt it. Didn’t understand it. But felt it. Because whatever this was, it wasn’t just another encounter. And the look on Cooper’s face? She’d never seen it before. Not even once.
“…Well,” he said slowly, voice quieter than usual. Rougher, somehow.
Like something had dragged itself up from somewhere deep.
“Ain’t that something”
Lucy glanced between the two of you. Because something told her, this wasn’t going to be simple. Not even a little bit.
————
The first thing you feel isn’t relief. It’s heat. Sharp, sudden, crawling up your spine before you can stop it, because for a split second, just a split second, your brain doesn’t catch up. It doesn’t recognize what your eyes are seeing. It doesn’t understand how it’s possible.
He’s supposed to be gone. Or maybe you are. But he’s there. Standing like nothing ever happened. Like he didn’t walk away and leave you bleeding out on broken concrete. Your chest tightens.
And then it hits hard.
Cooper.
Alive.
Breathing.
Looking right at you like he’s seen a ghost. Good. Let him. Because you feel like one.
Your fingers curl slightly at your sides, nails digging into your palm as you take him in properly now.
Same hat. Same stance. Same way he holds himself like the world can’t touch him. Like nothing sticks. Like you didn’t. Something bitter twists in your chest.
“…Well,” he says, voice slow, rough around the edges in a way that almost, almost, sounds real. “Ain’t that somethin’.”
You let out a quiet breath. Not a laugh. Not anything soft.
“…Didn’t think you’d still be breathing,” you say.
Your voice comes out steady. Colder than you expected.
“Funny,” he replies. “Was thinkin’ the same.”
Of course he was. Of course that’s what he’d say.
And then you see her. You hadn’t, not at first. He took up all the space in your head the second you recognized him. Everything else blurred out. But now, now she’s there. Just behind him.
Clean in a way the wasteland doesn’t usually allow. Not untouched, no, but still… softer somehow. Out of place.
Your eyes flick to her for just a second. That’s all it takes. Something tightens in your chest.
Oh.
Right.
Of course.
Because why wouldn’t he?
Why would he stay alone?
Why would he look back?
He didn’t come back for you. But he found someone else just fine.
Your jaw tightens, gaze snapping back to him before that thought can settle too deep. You don’t give it the chance.
Silence stretches.
Lucy shifts slightly, like she’s about to say something, “Do you two—”
“Don’t.”
The word leaves your mouth before you can stop it. No loud but enough. Enough that she freezes.
You don’t even look at her when you say it. Your eyes stay locked on him. Because this? This has nothing to do with her. And everything to do with him.
“You left me.”
It hangs in the air between you like something solid. His expression doesn’t change much. But you see it. The shift.
“You weren’t gonna make it,” he says.
Just like that. Like it’s that easy. Like it’s a fact. Like it’s nothing. Your stomach drops.
“You didn’t stay long enough to find out.”
Your voice is sharper now. Not loud, but cutting. Controlled in the way anger gets when it’s been sitting too long.
Behind him, Lucy looks between you, confusion written all over her face.
“…Wait,” she says carefully. “Do you two know each other?”
You don’t answer her. You don’t even acknowledge the question. Because if you do, you might have to look at her again. And right now, you don’t trust what that would do.
Cooper shifts his weight slightly, like he’s grounding himself.
“Didn’t think you’d make it outta that,” he mutters.
There’s something there. Something quieter. But you don’t let it land.
“Yeah,” you say. “You made sure of that.”
His jaw tightens.
“Don’t do that.”
“Do what?” you snap.
“Act like I had a better option.”
“You always have a choice.”
The words come out faster than you expect. Because you remember that moment. You remember the way he looked at you, like it was already decided. Like you were already gone.
“You chose to leave,” you add.
Silence. For a second, the world feels too still. Too quiet.
Lucy shifts again, clearly uncomfortable now.
“I feel like I’m missing something,” she says, trying to sound light, but it doesn’t quite land. “Because this is—”
“Stay out of it.”
This time, Cooper says it. Not sharp. But firm. And your chest tightens again, not because of the words. But because of the way he says them. The way he places himself just slightly in front of her without even thinking.
Your eyes catch it.
And something ugly twists low in your stomach before you can stop it.
Right.
That’s new.
That’s… nice.
For her.
You look away for half a second. Just enough to break it. Just enough to breathe. But it doesn’t help. Because the second you do, your mind fills in the gaps. How long have they been traveling together? How close are they?
Does she know the way he.. You stop that thought before it finishes.
You don’t get to go there. Not now. Not ever.
When you look back at him, your expression has shifted again to something colder, something safer. .
“Relax,” you say, voice flatter now. “I’m not here for whatever this is.”
You gesture vaguely between them without really looking.
“I’ve got my own route.”
It’s a lie. But it sounds real enough.
Cooper watches you. Really watches you this time. Like he’s trying to piece something together. Like he doesn’t quite recognize what he’s looking at. You don’t recognize him either.
For a moment, it feels like that might be it. Like you’ll just walk past each other. Like this will stay unfinished.
Then, somewhere in the distance, a sound. All three of you freeze.
Cooper’s head turns first, eyes narrowing.
“Shit,” he mutters under his breath.
Lucy tenses immediately. “What is that?”
“Company.”
Your grip tightens around your weapon, instincts kicking in fast, pushing everything else down where it can’t get in the way. You glance at the horizon.
“Guess you’re not goin’ your own way just yet,” Cooper says.
You let out a short, humorless breath. Of course not. Of course it couldn’t be that simple. You meet his eyes again.
And for the first time since seeing him, there’s something else there. Not just anger. Not just hurt. Something unfinished. Something that didn’t die out there like it was supposed to.
“…Don’t get in my way,” you say.
It’s the closest thing to an agreement you’re willing to give. For now. His gaze holds yours for a second longer.
“Wouldn’t dream of it.”
But something tells you that’s not true. Not even a little bit.
Summary: Hired to rescue someone from a dangerous ghoul gunslinger, Nick Valentine expects trouble, just not to find the “victim” perfectly fine, traveling with him, and someone he already knows.
The fan above the desk doesn’t work. It spins slowly, making a dry clicking sound every few seconds like it’s debating whether it should finally give up.
The office smells faintly of old paper, dust, and machine oil. Another normal day in Diamond City.
Behind the desk sits Nick Valentine, sleeves rolled up and one foot propped against the side of the desk as he flips lazily through a case file that isn’t particularly interesting.
Missing caps. Someone accusing their neighbor of stealing a Brahmin. Usual Commonwealth problems. He sighs and closes the folder.
Across the room, Ellie leans against the doorway with a mug of coffee in hand.
“You’re bored again,” she says.
Nick tilts his head slightly.
“What gave it away?”
“The staring into space.”
“Thinking.”
“Uh huh.”
The fan clicks again above them. Then a knock on the door. Ellie glances toward it.
“You expecting someone?”
Nick shrugs.
“Not unless the Brahmin thief developed a conscience.”
The door creaks open. A nervous looking man steps inside, hat clutched tightly in his hands like it might try to run away if he loosens his grip. Nick immediately notices three things. The man hasn’t slept much. He’s worried. And he didn’t come here for a stolen Brahmin.
Nick straightens slightly in his chair.
“Well now,” he says, voice calm and easy.
“What can I do for you?”
The man hesitates before stepping closer to the desk.
“I— I need help finding someone.”
Nick nods.
“That’s usually how these things start.”
The man places a worn photograph onto the desk. Nick picks it up.
It shows a person standing beside a rusted highway sign somewhere out in the wasteland. The photo is a little faded around the edges, but the face is still clear. It’s you Nick glances up.
“Friend of yours?”
The man swallows.
“My sister.”
Nick studies the photo again.
“When was the last time you saw her?”
“About two months ago.”
“Two months.”
Nick leans back slightly.
“That’s a long time to wait before hiring a detective.”
The man rubs his hands together nervously.
“I didn’t think anything was wrong at first. She’s always traveled a lot.”
Nick raises an eyebrow.
“But?”
The man shifts uncomfortably.
“But people started saying things.”
Nick gestures lightly.
“Like what?”
The man lowers his voice slightly.
“They said she’s been seen with someone.”
Nick doesn’t look up yet.
“Traveling with someone ain’t a crime.”
The man shakes his head quickly.
“No, you don’t understand.”
Nick finally lifts his gaze.
“Try me.”
The man hesitates before saying it.
“A ghoul.”
The word hangs in the air. Nick’s expression doesn’t change much.
“Commonwealth’s got a few of those.”
The man nods anxiously.
“But not like this one.”
Nick sets the photograph down on the desk.
“What kind of ghoul are we talking about?”
The man swallows.
“People say he’s dangerous.”
Nick folds his hands together.
“They usually say that about most folks who carry a gun.”
“He’s a bounty hunter,” the man adds quickly.
Nick pauses. Now that’s interesting.
“Got a name?”
The man nods slowly.
“Something like… Cooper.”
Nick leans back in his chair again.
“Well now.”
Ellie glances over from the doorway.
“You heard that name before?”
Nick taps the desk lightly with one finger.
“Yeah.”
Out in the Commonwealth, stories travel. And the name Cooper Howard tends to show up in more than a few of them. Nick looks down at the photograph again. Then back at the man.
“And you think this ghoul kidnapped your sister.”
The man nods.
“I think she’s in trouble.”
Nick studies him for a long moment. Then he sighs softly and stands from his chair, grabbing his coat from the back.
“Alright.”
The man looks hopeful.
“You’ll help?”
Nick slides the photograph into his pocket.
“Let’s just say I’m curious.”
He adjusts the brim of his hat and heads for the door.
“Because if this Cooper fella really did drag someone into trouble…”
Nick pauses in the doorway.
“…I’d like to hear his side of the story.”
Ellie watches him pull on his coat.
“You’re actually taking this one?” she asks.
Nick pauses by the door, adjusting the collar slightly.
“Kid might be in trouble.”
Ellie crosses her arms. “Or she might just be traveling.”
Nick shrugs.
“That’s what I’m gonna find out.”
The nervous man steps aside as Nick moves toward the stairs leading down to the street. The late afternoon sun spills into the hallway, bright and dusty.
Behind him, Ellie calls out, “You even know where to start?”
Nick glances back over his shoulder.
“Got a few ideas.”
Out in the Commonwealth, people talk. And when they talk about a ghoul bounty hunter with a revolver and a bad attitude, the same locations tend to come up. Nick taps the brim of his hat.
“First stop’s a bar.”
The bar is small. Half the lights don’t work, and the jukebox in the corner is making a noise that suggests it died about fifty years ago. Nick steps inside anyway. The air smells like cheap alcohol and gun oil. Three people sit at the counter.
One of them glances up when Nick enters. Then immediately looks away.
Nick strolls up to the bar like he’s got all the time in the world.
“Evenin’,” he says.
The bartender eyes him.
“What’ll it be?”
“Information.”
The bartender snorts.
“That’s expensive.”
Nick leans one elbow on the counter.
“So’s silence.”
The bartender studies him for a moment. Then sighs.
“What do you wanna know?”
Nick pulls the photograph from his coat and slides it across the bar.
“You seen her?”
The bartender picks it up. Studies it. Then nods slowly.
“Yeah.”
Nick’s eyes narrow slightly.
“When?”
“Couple weeks back.”
“Was she alone?”
The bartender hesitates. Nick already knows the answer.
“…No,” the bartender finally says.
“Thought so.”
The bartender taps the photo.
“She was with someone.”
Nick tilts his head.
“Let me guess”
“Ghoul. Long coat. Big revolver.”
The bartender raises an eyebrow.
“You know him?”
Nick exhales softly.
“Yeah.”
The bartender leans a little closer.
“That one’s trouble.”
Nick chuckles quietly.
“So I’ve heard.”
The bartender slides the photo back across the counter.
“They weren’t fighting though.”
Nick pauses.
“What do you mean?”
The bartender shrugs.
“They looked… comfortable.”
Nick raises an eyebrow.
“Comfortable?”
“Yeah.”
The bartender gestures with a bottle.
“Sat right over there.”
Nick glances toward the booth.
“They were laughing.”
That stops him for a second.
“Laughing?”
“Yeah.”
The bartender smirks slightly.
“Didn’t look kidnapped to me.”
Nick leans back from the bar slowly. Interesting. Very interesting. Because that’s not what the client described. Nick taps the photo lightly.
“Where’d they go after?”
The bartender thinks. Then nods toward the door.
“South road.”
Nick pushes himself off the counter.
“Appreciate it.”
As he walks toward the exit, the bartender calls after him.
“You looking for that ghoul?”
Nick pauses at the doorway.
“Maybe.”
The bartender chuckles.
“Good luck.”
Nick glances back over his shoulder.
“I’ll manage.”
Outside, the Commonwealth wind carries dust across the road. Nick pulls the photograph from his pocket again. He studies it for a moment. Then mutters quietly to himself.
“Alright, kid.”
He slips the photo back into his coat.
“Let’s see what kind of trouble you got yourself into.”
And somewhere out there in the wasteland, a ghoul gunslinger and the person he’s supposedly kidnapped have no idea a detective is on their trail.
—————
Night settles slowly over the Commonwealth. The wind carries dust across the broken road, whispering through the skeletal remains of old buildings that haven’t seen a working light in two centuries.
A small fire crackles beside a collapsed guardrail.
Across from it sits Cooper Howard, hat tipped low while he idly spins a single bullet between his fingers. The glow of the fire reflects faintly in his eyes. He hasn’t spoken in a few minutes.
That usually means he’s thinking about something. Or someone.
Across the fire, you sit on an overturned crate, cleaning the dust off a piece of scavenged metal you’re hoping might pass for a usable tool later.
The silence between you isn’t uncomfortable. It rarely is. After traveling together long enough, you learn how to share quiet. The fire pops. Cooper finally glances up.
“You been staring at that thing for five minutes, darlin’.”
You don’t look up.
“I’m thinking.”
“That’s dangerous.”
You snort quietly.
“Only for you.”
He smirks faintly, leaning back slightly and resting his arm over one knee. The firelight flickers across his coat.
“You planning to tell me what you’re thinking about?”
You hesitate for a moment. Then shrugs.
“Just something weird.”
He tilts his head slightly.
“Weird how?”
You glance out into the dark road stretching beyond the fire.
“I feel like we’re being followed.”
Cooper doesn’t even turn around. Instead he calmly rolls the bullet across his knuckles.
“If someone was following us,” he says casually, “they’d already be dead.”
“Comforting.”
“Just being honest.”
You finally look up at him.
“Not everyone out here wants to shoot you.”
“Most do.”
“Fair.”
The fire crackles again. For a moment neither of you speaks. Then Cooper studies you for a second longer.
“You nervous?”
You shake your head.
“No.”
“Good.”
He flicks the bullet into the cylinder of his revolver and snaps it shut.
“Because nervous people make mistakes.”
You raise an eyebrow.
“Are you saying I make mistakes?”
“Never said that.”
“But you thought it.”
“Maybe.”
You roll your eyes. Then reach down and toss a small piece of scrap into the fire. The flames flare briefly.
“You ever been to Diamond City?” Cooper asks suddenly. You pause. That question wasn’t random. You glance back at him.
“Once or twice.”
“Yeah?”
“Why?”
He shrugs.
“Just curious.”
You watch him for a second.
“Met some interesting people there.”
His attention sharpens slightly.
“Like who?”
You hesitate just long enough for him to notice.
“Just… people.”
Cooper smirks.
“That ain’t suspicious at all.”
You lean back on the crate.
“Everyone’s got a past.”
“That so?”
“Yep.”
He studies you for a moment longer. Then chuckles softly.
“Well darlin’, if someone is following us…”
He gestures lazily toward the darkness beyond the fire.
“…they’re doing a poor job of it.”
The wind shifts. Somewhere out in the wasteland, gravel crunches faintly beneath careful footsteps. Far enough away that neither of you hears it.
But close enough that the figure watching your campfire can see both of you clearly in the firelight.
Standing behind a ruined concrete wall, Nick lowers the binoculars slightly. He studies the scene in front of him. The ghoul gunslinger. The person he was hired to rescue. Sitting comfortably by a fire. Talking like old friends. Nick sighs quietly to himself.
“Well now,” he mutters.
“That’s not what I was expecting.”
He looks down at the photograph in his hand. Then back at the campfire.
“…this case just got a whole lot stranger.”
The fire burns lower as the night stretches on.
Most of the Commonwealth has gone quiet. No gunshots in the distance. No distant Brahmin calls. Just wind moving through broken buildings and the steady crackle of burning wood.
Across the fire, Cooper Howard finishes loading the last bullet into his revolver before snapping the cylinder shut with a practiced flick of his wrist.
You watch him for a moment.
“Planning something?”
He glances up.
“Always.”
“That reassuring?”
“Very.”
He spins the revolver once before sliding it back into the holster at his hip.
Then he leans back slightly, resting both hands on the ground behind him.
“You still thinking someone’s following us?”
You shrug.
“Just a feeling.”
Cooper studies your face for a moment.
“Your feelings usually come with bullets attached.”
“That’s rude.”
“That’s accurate.”
You reach down and poke the fire with a piece of metal scrap, sending a few sparks drifting upward into the night.
“Maybe it’s nothing.”
“Probably.”
A pause. Then Cooper tilts his head slightly.
“But if it ain’t…”
He gestures vaguely toward the darkness.
“…they’re getting close.”
Behind the crumbling concrete wall about thirty yards away, Nick slowly lowers the binoculars again.
The ghoul’s instincts are sharp. Nick expected that.
What he didn’t expect was the easy conversation happening by the fire. That’s not how kidnappings usually look.
He leans against the wall thoughtfully, the metal joints in his fingers clicking softly as he folds the binoculars closed.
Ellie would probably tell him he’s already figured out the case.
But Nick’s been a detective too long to trust first impressions.
He glances down again at the photograph in his coat pocket. Then back toward the fire.
“Well kid,” he mutters quietly to himself.
“You don’t look kidnapped.”
Nick adjusts the brim of his hat. Then makes a decision. No more watching. Time to ask questions.
Back at the fire, Cooper suddenly sits up straighter. You notice it immediately.
“What?”
He doesn’t answer right away. His eyes narrow slightly as he stares out into the darkness beyond the firelight.
“…we got company.”
You reach for the weapon beside you instinctively.
A moment later, boots crunch against gravel. A figure steps into the firelight.
Fedora hat casting a shadow across glowing yellow eyes and exposed metal beneath worn synthetic skin. Cooper’s hand moves halfway to his revolver. Then stops.
“Detective.”
The newcomer tilts his head slightly.
“Well I’ll be.”
Your eyes widen.
“Nick?”
The surprise in your voice freezes the tension in the air for half a second. Cooper slowly turns his head toward you.
“…Nick?”
The man steps closer to the fire now, the light illuminating the mechanical details of his face. Valentine studies both of you carefully. Then he sighs.
“Kid.”
You stand up quickly.
“What are you doing out here?”
Nick gestures casually toward Cooper.
“Funny story.”
Cooper crosses his arms.
“I’m listening.”
Nick glances between the two of you.
“I was hired to rescue you.”
The silence that follows is immediate. You blink.
“…rescue me?”
Nick nods.
“From him.”
Cooper exhales slowly through his nose.
“Well that’s insulting.”
You stare at Nick.
“Who hired you?”
“Someone who thinks you got kidnapped by a dangerous ghoul bounty hunter.”
You look back at Cooper. Then back at Nick.
“…Nick.”
Nick shrugs.
“I’m just the messenger.”
Cooper smirks faintly.
“Detective.”
Nick glances toward him.
“Yeah?”
“You’re about two hundred miles off on that one.”
Nick looks back at you.
“…that what I figured.”
The fire crackles between the three of you. Then Cooper tilts his head slightly.
“…so.”
Nick raises an eyebrow.
“So?”
Cooper gestures lazily toward the fire.
“You gonna sit down, detective?”
Nick considers it for a second. Then chuckles.
“Well.”
He pulls a chair shaped chunk of concrete closer to the fire.
“Don’t mind if I do.”
Nick settles onto the chunk of concrete, brushing a bit of dust off his coat before leaning his elbows on his knees. The firelight flickers across the metal edges of his face, making the artificial skin look almost natural in the shifting glow.
For a moment, none of you say anything. The fire crackles quietly between the three of you. Finally, Nick glances over at you.
“Well kid,” he says, voice easy. “You planning to explain why half the Commonwealth thinks you’ve been kidnapped?”
You sigh and drop back onto the crate.
“I didn’t realize people were starting rumors.”
Nick shrugs. “That’s the Commonwealth. Someone sees you traveling with a ghoul gunslinger and suddenly everyone thinks the worst.”
Across the fire, Cooper tilts his head slightly.
“Gunslinger, huh?”
Nick smirks faintly. “You prefer another title?”
“Depends who’s asking.”
Nick gestures between the two of you. “Well, whoever hired me seems to think you dragged this one off against their will.”
Cooper glances at you.
“You feeling kidnapped, darlin’?”
You deadpan, “Absolutely. I’ve been forced to endure terrible jokes and questionable campfire cooking.”
Nick chuckles softly.
“Sounds rough.”
Cooper leans back slightly, resting his hands on the ground behind him.
“You know,” he says slowly, looking at Nick, “most detectives would’ve asked a few questions before chasing someone across the wasteland.”
Nick nods. “I did.”
“And?”
Nick gestures toward the two of you sitting by the fire.
“And then I saw this.”
You raise an eyebrow. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
Nick tilts his head toward Cooper. “Kidnapping victims usually don’t laugh with their kidnappers.”
Cooper smirks. “You saying I’m charming?”
“I’m saying the evidence doesn’t line up.”
The wind shifts slightly, stirring the fire.
Nick studies Cooper for a moment longer, then looks back at you.
“Though I will admit,” he says casually, “I was curious about one thing.”
“Oh?”
Nick nods toward Cooper.
“You didn’t mention you were traveling with a ghoul bounty hunter these days.”
Cooper’s eyes narrow slightly.
“These days?”
You rub the back of your neck.
“It just never came up.”
Cooper slowly turns his head toward you.
“Darlin’.”
You already know that tone.
“Yeah?”
“You planning to explain how you and the detective here know each other?”
Nick grins.
“Oh, that’s a good story.”
You groan quietly. Nick ignores you.
“Couple years back,” he says, leaning back slightly, “we worked a case together near Diamond City.”
Cooper raises an eyebrow.
“A case.”
“Yep.”
Nick gestures toward you.
“Kid here had a pretty good nose for trouble.”
You mutter, “It wasn’t that impressive.”
Nick chuckles.
“Kid helped solve the thing faster than half the mercs I’d hired before.”
Cooper studies you now, expression thoughtful.
“Well now.”
You glance between the two of them.
“Can we not make this weird?”
Nick raises an eyebrow. “Too late.”
Cooper smirks faintly.
“So you’ve known the detective longer than me.”
Nick leans forward slightly, resting his arms on his knees again.
“Looks that way.”
Cooper tilts his head.
“Well ain’t that interesting.”
Nick looks amused.
“You jealous, cowboy?”
The fire pops loudly. Cooper’s smirk widens.
“Detective.”
“Yeah?”
“You asking a lot of questions for someone who just showed up.”
Nick chuckles softly.
“Occupational hazard.”
You pinch the bridge of your nose.
“I regret introducing the two of you.”
Nick grins.
“Oh I think this is going to be fun.”
Cooper glances at you, then back at Nick.
“Darlin’.”
“Yes?”
“You planning to keep traveling with me…”
He gestures toward Nick.
“…or are we adding a detective to the crew?”
Nick leans back, clearly enjoying himself.
“Well now,” he says.
“That depends.”
Both you and Cooper look at him. Nick shrugs casually.
“You two mind if I stick around a bit?”
The firelight flickers across the three of you as the wind moves through the ruined road.
And for the first time since taking the case, Nick Valentine smiles.
“This investigation just got a lot more interesting.”
Summary: While getting ready and listening to the radio, you unknowingly reminds Cooper of someone from his past.
The radio doesn’t work the first time you turn it on. It never does.
Static bursts through the small motel room like a sandstorm, loud and crackling, the sound echoing off the peeling wallpaper and cracked ceiling. You lean over the little box sitting on the nightstand, tapping the side of it with two fingers.
“C’mon…”
The dial turns slowly beneath your hand. More static. Then! Music.
Soft piano first, followed by a trumpet drifting through the speaker like it’s traveled a hundred years to reach this room.
You smile faintly.
“There we go.”
The song fills the quiet space, warm and strangely comforting against the worn-out walls of the motel room. Outside, the Commonwealth is still waking up. Wind rattles something loose against the building, and somewhere down the road you hear the faint clatter of a scavenger moving through old scrap.
Inside, though, it’s peaceful. For once.
You sit down on the edge of the bed, brushing dust from your pants before reaching for the old brush sitting beside the radio.
The mirror across from you is cracked down the middle, the glass warped just enough that your reflection bends slightly when you move. It’s not perfect, but it’s good enough.
You drag the brush slowly through your hair.
The movement is automatic by now, something you learned long before the wasteland got its claws into the world.
Behind you, the old chair creaks. Cooper shifts slightly. You glance at him in the mirror.
He’s sitting near the window, boots kicked up on the small table like he owns the place. The brim of his hat casts a shadow across the upper half of his face, but you can still see the faint glow of his eyes beneath it.
He hasn’t said much since morning. That’s not unusual.
Cooper can sit in silence longer than most people can talk.
You turn your attention back to your hair, brushing through the last few knots while the music hums softly through the room.
For a while, the only sounds are the brush sliding through your hair and the low hiss of the radio signal. Then the chair creaks again. You see him move in the mirror. He’s watching you.
Not in the usual way. Normally when Cooper looks at you there’s a smirk involved. Some kind of teasing comment waiting to follow.
But this time he’s just… looking.
You twist your hair loosely over one shoulder, tying it back before letting a few strands fall free again.
The movement pulls his attention slightly. You catch it. Your eyes flick back to the mirror.
“Something wrong?”
Cooper blinks once, like you pulled him out of somewhere else.
“Nah.”
You raise an eyebrow.
“You’re staring.”
“Am not.”
“You absolutely are.”
A faint smirk finally touches his mouth.
“Can’t a man admire the view, darlin’?”
You roll your eyes.
“That’s not admiration, that’s observation .”
He chuckles quietly at that, leaning back a little further in the chair. The legs scrape softly across the floor.
You turn back to the mirror, brushing another section of hair.
The radio crackles again before settling back into the song. Then Cooper speaks again.
“You always do that with music on?”
You pause mid brush.
“Do what?”
He gestures vaguely with one hand.
“That.”
You glance down at the brush.
“…doing my hair?”
“Yeah.”
You shrug slightly.
“Sometimes.”
The brush moves through your hair again.
“Why?”
He doesn’t answer right away.
Instead he tilts his hat back just a little, enough for the light from the window to catch his face properly.
His eyes are still on you.
“Just noticed.”
You hum softly, finishing the last section before setting the brush down on the table.
“Not much else to do while we wait.”
“Fair.”
The room settles back into quiet. The radio hums. The wind taps against the window.
You reach up again, gathering your hair into both hands this time, twisting it slowly as you try to keep it out of your face.
In the mirror you see Cooper shift again. His gaze follows the motion of your hands. The twist. The tie.
The way you smooth the loose strands near your temple afterward.
Something in his expression changes. Subtle. Almost invisible. But you catch it. You glance back at him.
“What?”
He exhales slowly.
“Nothing.”
“That didn’t sound like nothing.”
He leans forward slightly in the chair now, resting his elbows on his knees.
“Just haven’t seen that in a long time.”
You pause. The brush stops in your hand.
“What?”
He nods toward you.
“That.”
You turn fully toward him now.
“Doing my hair?”
“Yeah.”
The radio continues humming softly behind you. Cooper’s gaze drifts for a moment, not quite looking at you anymore.
“My wife used to do that.”
The words come out quiet. Not heavy. But not casual either. Just… matter of fact. The room goes still around them.
The room goes still around the words. For a moment the only sound is the soft hum of the radio and the faint whistle of wind slipping through the cracked window frame.
You don’t say anything right away. Cooper doesn’t seem like he’s expecting you to.
He leans back in the chair again, the old wood creaking under his weight. One hand rests loosely on the armrest while the other absently adjusts the brim of his hat.
His eyes drift toward the radio instead of you. Like the music is easier to look at than the memory.
You turn back slightly toward the mirror, though your attention stays on him through the reflection.
“Yeah?” you say gently.
He nods once.
“Yeah.”
Another second passes. Then he adds, quieter this time,
“She had this whole routine.”
Your hands rest in your lap now, the brush forgotten beside you.
“What kind of routine?”
Cooper huffs a small breath of amusement.
“Long one.”
His eyes shift back to you again.
“Brush. Pins. Mirror. Whole production.”
You smile faintly.
“That doesn’t sound so bad.”
“Took forever.”
“Ah.”
He gestures vaguely toward you.
“Just like that.”
Your fingers lightly gather the loose ends of your hair again, twisting them thoughtfully.
“She always said she had to look presentable,” he continues.
There’s the faintest ghost of a smile on his face now.
“Didn’t matter if we were going somewhere fancy or just grabbing dinner.”
He tilts his head slightly, watching the way you tuck a stray strand behind your ear.
“Same exact motion.”
You follow his gaze instinctively, realizing what he means. Your hand freezes for a moment.
“Oh.”
Cooper shrugs lightly.
“Funny thing about memory.”
The radio crackles briefly before the next verse of the song drifts through the speaker. You shift on the bed, turning fully toward him now.
“You miss her.”
It isn’t a question. Cooper doesn’t answer immediately.
He studies the floor for a moment, boot tapping once against the old wood. Then he exhales slowly.
“Yeah.”
The word is simple. But it’s honest. Two hundred years of distance doesn’t make it disappear.
You don’t move closer yet. You don’t try to interrupt the quiet either. After a second you say softly,
“She must’ve been pretty great.”
That finally pulls a small laugh out of him.
“Hell of a lot tougher than me.”
You raise an eyebrow.
“That’s a bold claim.”
“Woman survived Hollywood,” he mutters.
“That alone makes her dangerous.”
You laugh quietly. The tension in the room loosens just a little. Then your hand lifts toward your hair again. You hesitate halfway through the motion.
“If it bothers you,” you say carefully, “I can stop.”
Cooper’s gaze snaps back to you immediately.
“What?”
You gesture toward your hair.
“This.”
The brush. The mirror. The music.
“All of it.”
You shrug lightly.
“I didn’t realize it reminded you of something.”
For a moment he just looks at you. Then he pushes himself up from the chair. The old floor creaks under his boots as he crosses the small room toward the bed.
You stay where you are, watching him approach. He stops in front of you. Close enough that the faint scent of dust and leather clings to his coat.
His hand lifts slowly. His fingers brush a loose strand of hair away from your face. The touch is gentle. Unexpectedly so.
“Nah,” he murmurs.
The corners of his mouth lift slightly.
“It don’t bother me.”
His hand lingers near your temple for a second. Then he leans down and presses a soft kiss against your forehead.
“You look beautiful, sweetheart.”
The words land warm and quiet between you. When he pulls back, the faint smirk has returned to his face.
“Besides,” he adds lightly,
“I’m starting to think the old world had the right idea about a few things.”
You tilt your head.
“Oh?”
“Yeah.”
He gestures toward the radio.
“The music.”
Then toward the mirror.
“And the view.”
You roll your eyes, though the smile still tugs at your lips.
“There it is.”
“What?”
“The flirting.”
He chuckles quietly and tips his hat forward again.
“Wouldn’t be me without it, darlin’.”
And for a moment, in that quiet little motel room, the wasteland feels very far away.
Hiiii so could you do a kinda angsty but still fluffy oneshort about john hancock please where like the reader and hancock are in a relation but the reader is jealous because she thinks hancock is cheating (he isnt but yk) due to his past flings and all please ??🙏🙏 thx !
Hiiii! Thank you for your request! I hope you’ll like this!
Not like them
John Hancock x reader
Summary: Surrounded by Hancock’s easy charm and old habits, you starts to feel like just another one, until he proves you never was.
The Third Rail is loud tonight. Not just loud, but also alive. Music thrums through the walls, bass vibrating faintly beneath your boots as people crowd the floor, laughing, shouting, dancing like the world didn’t end two centuries ago. Neon lights flicker overhead, casting everything in shades of red and gold, turning faces into something almost unreal.
It’s warm. A little too warm. The kind of heat that sticks to your skin and makes everything feel closer than it actually is.
You sit near the edge of the room, half-hidden in the shadows where the light doesn’t quite reach. A glass rests in your hand, condensation gathering along the sides, untouched for longer than you’d like to admit.
You didn’t come here to sit alone. But somehow, that’s where you ended up. Your eyes drift, again, toward the bar. You don’t mean to look. You keep telling yourself not to. But you do anyway. And there he is. John Hancock.
Leaning casually against the counter like he owns the place, because, well… he kind of does. His coat hangs open, hat tipped back just enough to show that easy grin, the one that draws people in whether they want it to or not.
A woman stands close to him. Too close. She’s laughing at something he said, her hand brushing his arm like it belongs there. And Hancock, he doesn’t move away.
He never does. That’s just who he is. You know that. You’ve always known that. Still, your grip tightens slightly around your glass.
He leans in, says something else. She laughs again, softer this time, like it’s meant just for him. Your chest feels tight. You look away. You force yourself to. Take a sip of your drink.
It’s gone warm. You set it down. This is stupid. You knew what you were getting into. Hancock isn’t the kind of man who belongs to anyone. He never pretended to be. He flirts, he jokes, he lives like everything might disappear tomorrow.
That’s part of why you liked him. Why you still do. So why does it feel like this? Why does it feel like you’re just… another person in the crowd?
“Hey, sunshine.”
His voice cuts through the noise like it always does. Dangerously easy to fall into. You don’t turn right away. You already know it’s him.
“…hey.”
You hear his boots against the floor as he moves closer. There’s a pause. Then a chair scrapes lightly across the ground.
“Mind if I sit?” he asks, though he’s already pulling it out.
You shrug slightly. “Go ahead.”
He sits across from you, leaning back in the chair, but his eyes are already on you. Watching. Taking you in in that way he does when something feels off.
“You’ve been hiding over here all night,” he says.
“I’m not hiding.”
“Mm.”
That little hum, half teasing, half skeptical. You finally look at him.
“I just needed a break from the crowd.”
“Yeah?”
“Yeah.”
He studies you for a second longer than usual. Too long. You look away again. He notices that too. Of course he does. Hancock shifts forward slightly, resting his forearms on the table, closing some of the distance between you.
“You okay?” he asks, softer now.
“I’m fine.”
Too quick. You hear it the moment it leaves your mouth. So does he. The room feels louder suddenly. Like the music is pressing in around you. Hancock leans back again, but he doesn’t look away.
Instead, he follows your gaze. Back toward the bar. Back toward where he was standing earlier. Where she is still standing, waiting. He sees it immediately.
“…oh.”
That one word is quiet. Full with understanding. You huff a small breath, shaking your head.
“It’s nothing.”
“Doesn’t look like nothing.”
“It is.”
“Sunshine—”
“I said it’s nothing, Hancock.”
The edge in your voice surprises even you. Silence falls between you. Not complete silence, the bar is still loud, still alive, but something in your little corner shifts.
He doesn’t push right away. Doesn’t make a joke. Doesn’t deflect. He just watches you. Then, more gently, “Talk to me.”
You stare at the table. Your fingers trace the rim of your glass.
“It’s stupid.”
“Hey.”
You glance up. His expression has softened.
“Don’t do that.”
“Do what?”
“Call your feelings stupid.”
You swallow.
“They kind of are.”
“Don’t matter.”
You hesitate. Then, quietly, “You flirt with everyone.”
He doesn’t deny it. That hurts more than if he had.
“I know that’s just who you are,” you continue, voice quieter now. “I know that. I do.”
Your eyes flick toward the bar again.
“She looked like she thought she had a chance.”
Hancock follows your gaze, then looks back at you.
“And that bothered you.”
You let out a breath.
“…yeah.”
Silence. Then you add, softer, “Because sometimes it feels like I’m not… different.”
That lands. You can see it in the way his posture changes. In the way his expression drops, something more serious settling in. You rush to fill the silence.
“I know you’ve had people before. I’m not stupid. I know that.”
He nods slightly. “Yeah.”
“But I don’t want to be just another one of them.”
Your voice almost breaks on that last word. You hate that it does. Hancock leans forward again, slower this time. More careful.
“Hey.”
You don’t look up immediately. He reaches out, fingers brushing lightly against your hand. Not grabbing. Just there.
“Look at me.”
You hesitate. Then you do. And whatever you expected, It’s not this. No teasing. No smirk. Just him.
“I flirt,” he says quietly. “Yeah. Always have.”
You nod faintly.
“But I don’t stay.”
Your brow furrows slightly.
“What?”
“They’re fun,” he continues. “They laugh, I laugh, we move on.”
His thumb brushes lightly over your knuckles.
“You think I’d still be sitting here if that’s all you were?”
Your breath catches.
“I come back to you,” he says. “Every time.”
The words settle slowly. You feel them more than you hear them.
“I look for you in a room,” he adds. “Even when I don’t realize I’m doing it.”
You stare at him. Trying to read him. Trying to find the lie. But there isn’t one.
“You’re not like them,” he says softly. “You never were.”
The tension in your chest loosens, just a little.
“I just…” you start, then stop.
“What?”
“I didn’t want to lose you.”
The honesty hangs there between you. Hancock exhales slowly, something warm returning to his expression.
“Sunshine…”
He shifts his chair closer. Close enough now that your knees almost touch.
“You’re not gonna lose me.”
You search his face.
“You sure?”
He smirks faintly, but it’s softer than usual.
“If I wanted someone else, I wouldn’t be here.”
That pulls a small, shaky laugh from you. He relaxes a little at the sound.
“There she is.”
You shake your head.
“You’re such an idiot.”
“Yeah,” he grins. “But I’m your idiot.”
Your eyes roll, but your hand doesn’t pull away from his. Not this time.
After a moment, he stands, tugging gently on your hand.
“C’mon.”
“Where?”
“Somewhere quieter.”
Later, away from the noise, away from the lights, it’s calmer. The air feels easier to breathe.
Hancock leans back against the wall, pulling you with him, one arm wrapping around your waist like it belongs there. Like you belong there.
You rest against him, your head near his shoulder, listening to the steady rhythm of his breathing.
For a while, neither of you says anything. You don’t need to. Then, quietly, “You still worried?”
You shake your head.
“No.”
He hums softly.
“Good.”
His hand moves slightly against your side, thumb brushing absent patterns.
“You got a way of getting in my head, you know that?” he murmurs.
You smile faintly.
“Yeah?”
“Yeah.”
He tilts his head slightly, pressing a soft kiss to your temple.
“You matter more than you think.”
Your chest tightens again, but this time, it’s different. Warmer.
“You’re stuck with me, sunshine,” he adds.
You let out a quiet breath, leaning into him just a little more.
Summary: Cooper gets impaled and slowly starts going feral, only to be rescued by someone who finds the situation far more amusing than concerning.
The pole hurts. Not in the sharp, immediate way most wounds do.
That pain came hours ago.
Now it’s something deeper. Slower. A dull, grinding ache spreading through his ribs and spine where the rusted metal spear punched straight through him.
Cooper hangs there against the side of the ruined building, pinned like some sick joke. Blood has long since dried across his coat.
The wind moves through the empty street, carrying dust and the faint rattle of loose metal somewhere in the distance. He’s been stuck there for hours. Maybe longer.
Time gets strange when you’re impaled on a piece of scrap metal. At first he tried pulling himself free. That was a mistake. The movement nearly blacked him out. So now he just hangs there. Hat gone. Gun somewhere on the street below.
The hunger creeping in slowly at the edges of his thoughts. That familiar gnawing feeling scratching at the back of his mind. Feral.
He knows the signs. He’s been close before. Too close. His fingers twitch against the wall beside him.
“Hell of a day,” he mutters hoarsely.
The wind answers him.
Then he hears footsteps. Slowly approaching. Boots scraping lightly against gravel. Cooper’s head tilts slightly. Someone’s approaching.
Through the haze of pain and hunger he forces his eyes open a little wider.
A figure steps into view at the end of the street. For a moment his mind struggles to focus. Then the shape becomes clearer. A familiar silhouette.
The person walks closer, hands tucked casually into their coat pockets. No rush. No panic. Just a slow stroll toward the very obvious ghoul pinned to the wall.
Then he sees something in their hand. His hat. The figure finally stops a few feet away and looks up at him.
“Well well.”
The voice is warm. Amused ringing in their voice.
“What do we have here?”
Cooper exhales slowly. Of course.
You tilts your head slightly, studying the situation like you’re just discovered something mildly entertaining rather than alarming.
“The cowboy finally got caught.”
Cooper huffs out a dry laugh.
“Glad to see you too, darlin’.”
You twirl the hat lazily between your fingers before placing it carefully back on his head.
“There we go,” you say. “Wouldn’t want you losing your style.”
He squints down at you.
“…you gonna help me down?”
You lean back slightly to inspect the pole running clean through him.
“Eventually.”
“That’s comforting.”
“You look fine.”
“I’m impaled.”
“You’ve survived worse.”
He pauses.
“…fair.”
You crosses your arms, still looking up at him with that same calm confidence.
“Been a while,” you say.
“Yeah.”
“Dogmeat found me about ten minutes ago,” you add casually.
Cooper raises an eyebrow.
“…that explains the hat.”
“He seemed very concerned.”
“And you?”
You shrug.
“You’re hard to kill.”
A faint grin pulls at the corner of Cooper’s mouth.
“Well that’s the nicest thing anyone’s said to me all week.”
You steps a little closer now, examining the pole again. Your expression doesn’t change. Still calm.
Still completely unbothered by the fact that he’s hanging there like a decoration. Then you glance back up at him.
“…so.”
“What?”
“How exactly did you manage this one?”
Cooper sighs.
“Long story.”
“You got time.”
He looks down at you for a moment. Then mutters, “Lucy.” You blink. “…Vault girl?”
“Yeah.”
“What’d she do?”
Cooper shifts slightly against the wall. The movement makes him wince.
“…punched me out a window.”
You stare at him for a second. Then bursts out laughing.
“Of course she did.”
“Glad you’re enjoying this.”
“Oh I am.”
You wipe a tear from your eye. Then look back up at him again, still smiling.
“Alright cowboy.”
“What?”
“Let’s get you unstuck before you go completely feral on me.”
He tilts his head slightly.
“…you noticed that.”
“I notice things.”
Then you grip the pole. And grin.
“This is gonna hurt.”
The pole groans softly when you grip it.
Rust flakes crumble beneath your fingers as you m brace one boot against the wall beside Cooper.
“You ready?” You ask casually.
Cooper’s head hangs forward slightly, breath coming slow and uneven.
“…not particularly.”
“Good.”
You tighten your grip.
“Because this is happening anyway.”
With a sharp pull, the metal shifts. Cooper’s entire body jerks as the pole slides a few inches through the ruined fabric of his coat and the wound beneath it. The pain hits all at once.
His teeth grind together, a low sound escaping his throat as the world tilts violently around him.
“Easy,” you mutter. Another hard yank.
The pole finally slips free with a wet, metallic scrape. Cooper collapses forward immediately.
You barely have time to catch him before he hits the ground.
His weight drops against you heavily, boots scraping the pavement as you guide him down to sit against the wall. For a moment the only sound is his breathing. Too fast and uneven.
You watches him carefully.
“…there it is.”
Cooper’s hands twitch against the dirt. His glowing eyes flick upward slowly. Something darker is creeping into them now. The hunger. The feral edge. His shoulders tense as his head tilts slightly, nostrils flaring like he’s catching a scent.
You crouches in front of him. Completely calm. If anything, you look mildly amused.
“Aww.”
You tilt your head.
“Does my little cowboy need his drugs?”
Cooper lets out a rough sound somewhere between a growl and a laugh.
“Don’t start…”
His voice is strained. The feral instinct clawing harder now. You reach casually into your coat pocket.
“Well,” you say lightly, pulling out a small injector. “Good thing I came prepared.” Cooper’s eyes lock onto it immediately. The reaction is instant.
His hand moves suddenly, grabbing your wrist with surprising strength. The feral hunger flashes again in his eyes. You don’t even flinch.
“Hey,” you say calmly.
“Easy.”
Your other hand lifts to his chin, forcing his gaze back to yours.
“Look at me, cowboy.”
For a second he resists. Then slowly, his eyes focus. But only barely.
“That’s it,” you murmur.
“Stay with me.”
You twist your wrist free just enough to press the injector against his arm. The hiss of the chem releasing fills the quiet street. Cooper exhales sharply as the Jet hits his system. The tension in his body spikes for a second. Then slowly, his shoulders drop.
The feral edge fades back from his eyes. Not completely gone. But under control again. He leans back against the wall, breathing hard.
“…hell.”
You sit back on your heels, watching him carefully.
“Better?”
He drags a hand across his face.
“Yeah.”
Then he glances down at you.
“…you always show up at convenient times like this?”
You grin.
“Only when you’re making a mess of things.”
He chuckles hoarsely.
“You been following me?”
“Please.”
You stand and offer him a hand.
“You’re not that interesting.”
He takes it anyway. When he pulls himself to his feet, he sways slightly. You steady him automatically.
“Careful.”
“Relax, darlin’.”
He adjusts his coat slightly and glances down the empty street. Then back at you.
“…so.”
“What?”
“You gonna tell me why you’re here?”
You cross your arms.
“I could ask you the same thing.”
He smirks faintly.
“Fair.”
You study him for a moment. Then gestures toward the street.
“C’mon, cowboy.”
“Where we going?”
You start walking.
“Somewhere you can sit down before you bleed all over the place again.”
He follows slowly. Still a little shaky. But the familiar grin creeps back across his face.
Summary: Hancock is used to doing the flirting in Goodneighbor. Then a stranger walks in and flips the game on him.
The first thing Hancock notices about you is that you don’t look nervous. That alone is unusual.
Most people who step into Goodneighbor for the first time carry the tension on them like a heavy pack. They glance over their shoulders too often, flinch when someone laughs too loudly, or keep their eyes glued to the ground so they don’t accidentally make eye contact with the wrong person.
Goodneighbor has that effect on people.
You, however, stroll down the street like you’ve walked these cracked bricks a hundred times before.
Hancock leans against the railing outside the Old State House, one boot hooked casually over the other while he watches the scene unfold below. His hat sits low on his head, the red coat hanging open around his shoulders while the usual chaos of Goodneighbor carries on around him.
Someone is arguing near the Memory Den. A drunk trader is trying to convince one of the guards that he didn’t lose his caps gambling.
And the smell of cheap booze and jet drifts through the warm afternoon air. Just another day.
Then you walk into view. You don’t rush. You don’t hesitate.
You just wander down the street like you belong here, pausing in front of KLEO’s shop window to study the weapons displayed inside. Hancock watches you for a moment longer. Interesting.
Most people don’t casually browse weapons in Goodneighbor unless they’re either very confident… Or very stupid. You don’t look stupid.
He pushes off the railing and starts down the stairs. Boots hit the street with a soft thud as he moves through the crowd, the locals instinctively giving him a little space as he passes.
Being mayor has its perks. By the time he reaches the bottom of the steps, you’ve turned away from KLEO’s window and started walking back toward the center of the street.
Perfect. Hancock steps directly into your path.
“Afternoon, sunshine.”
You stop. Your eyes lift to meet his. Most people react to Hancock in one of two ways.
They either freeze when they see the ghoul’s scarred face and glowing eyes, or they immediately try very hard not to stare.
You do neither. Instead, you study him calmly for a moment, head tilting just slightly like you’re inspecting something interesting.
Then a small smile pulls at the corner of your mouth.
“Well,” you say smoothly, “if it isn’t the famous mayor of Goodneighbor.”
Hancock grins.
“Word travels fast.”
“You’re hard to miss.”
That earns a quiet chuckle from him.
“Flattery already?” he says. “You trying to get on my good side, sunshine?”
You shrug lightly.
“Is it working?”
Hancock tilts his head slightly, studying you more carefully now. Confident posture. Relaxed shoulders. No nerves. Yeah. You’re definitely interesting.
“Maybe,” he says. “Still deciding.”
You take a small step closer, glancing briefly around the street before looking back at him again.
“So this is your kingdom.”
Hancock glances around at the worn buildings and crooked neon lights.
“Something like that.”
You hum thoughtfully.
“Not bad.”
“High praise.”
You look back at him.
“I’ve seen worse.”
He laughs softly.
“Oh I’m sure you have.”
For a moment the two of you just stand there while the street buzzes around you. Then Hancock leans a little closer, lowering his voice slightly.
“So tell me something, sunshine.”
“Depends.”
“You always this comfortable walking into dangerous places?”
You tilt your head.
“You always greet strangers with pet names?”
“Only the interesting ones.”
That makes you smile.
“Well that’s good,” you say. “Wouldn’t want to feel special.”
Hancock snorts.
“You got attitude.”
“And you started it.”
“Did I?”
“You called me sunshine.”
“Well you do brighten the street a little.”
Your eyebrow lifts.
“Careful.”
“Why’s that?”
“You keep talking like that and people might think you’re flirting.”
Hancock smirks.
“Oh I am flirting.”
You blink once. Then lean a little closer.
“Good,” you say softly.
“Because so am I.”
For the first time since this conversation started, Hancock hesitates. Only for a second. But it’s enough. He laughs, shaking his head as he straightens slightly.
“Well I’ll be damned,” he mutters.
“Someone finally decided to flirt back.”
You cross your arms loosely, watching him with a quiet amusement in your eyes.
“You seem surprised.”
“Usually people get a little nervous by now.”
You look him up and down slowly.
“Should I be nervous?”
Hancock spreads his arms slightly.
“Terrifying, ain’t I?”
You consider it.
“…nah.”
He laughs again.
“That’s cold, sunshine.”
“You asked.”
For a moment his grin widens, something genuinely amused flickering across his face now.
Then he leans closer again, lowering his voice so only you can hear.
“Careful now.”
“Why?”
“Keep flirting like that,” he murmurs, “and people might start getting the wrong idea.”
You meet his eyes. Your smile grows just a little.
“And what idea would that be?”
“That you’re interested.”
You lean even closer. Close enough that he can hear the quiet amusement in your voice.
“Oh,” you say lightly.
“I definitely am.”
For the first time since he walked up to you, John Hancock finds himself a little off balance. He blinks once. Then lets out a short laugh.
“Well damn,” he mutters.
“Looks like I picked the wrong stranger to mess with.”
You shrug.
“Too late now.”
Hancock studies you for another second, that crooked grin still sitting on his face like he’s deciding whether you’re serious or just messing with him.
“Careful now, sunshine,” he says, adjusting the brim of his hat slightly. “You keep talking like that and folks might start thinking you’re trying to charm the mayor.”
You tilt your head.
“Maybe I am.”
He laughs softly under his breath.
“Well damn,” he mutters. “Didn’t expect to get outplayed today.”
You shrug lightly.
“Shouldn’t underestimate strangers.”
“That might be the first smart thing I’ve heard all afternoon.”
You glance around Goodneighbor’s main street again. The crooked neon lights buzz faintly above the buildings, and somewhere behind you a drunk trader is loudly arguing with one of the guards. The whole place feels alive in that chaotic way only Goodneighbor manages.
Then your gaze drifts back to Hancock.
“So,” you say, “do you flirt with everyone who walks into your town?”
Hancock spreads his arms slightly.
“Only the interesting ones.”
You step past him slightly, starting to walk toward the center of the street.
“Well,” you say over your shoulder, “that’s lucky for me.”
Hancock blinks once. Then turns and follows.
“Oh you’re not getting away that easy, sunshine.”
You slow your pace just enough for him to catch up beside you.
The two of you walk side by side down the uneven street while the locals glance curiously at the mayor strolling along with a newcomer.
Hancock hooks his thumbs into his belt casually.
“So what brings you to my little corner of the Commonwealth?”
“Passing through.”
“Everyone says that.”
“Maybe everyone’s telling the truth.”
“Not likely.”
You glance at him.
“And you’re always this suspicious?”
“Occupational hazard.”
You hum thoughtfully.
“Fair.”
A few steps later the sound of music drifts faintly through the air from the Third Rail.
Hancock gestures toward it with a lazy nod.
“Since you’re passing through,” he says, “you might as well see the best bar in the Commonwealth.”
You look toward the entrance.
“A tour?”
“Consider it a public service.”
You smile faintly.
“Lead the way, Mr. Mayor.”
Hancock pushes open the door and the sound of music and chatter spills out into the street. Inside, the Third Rail is warm and loud, filled with the usual crowd of travelers, drifters, and locals enjoying cheap drinks.
A few heads turn when Hancock walks in. More heads turn when they notice you walking beside him.
Hancock leans against the bar casually and gestures for the bartender.
“Two drinks.”
Then he glances sideways at you again.
“So tell me something, sunshine.”
“What?”
“You always flirt this much with strangers?”
You lean back against the bar beside him.
“Only the interesting ones.”
Hancock pauses. Then he laughs again.
“Well I’ll be damned,” he mutters.
“You really are trying to get me in trouble.”
You take the drink the bartender slides across the counter and raise it slightly toward him.
“And you don’t like trouble?”
Hancock lifts his own glass. His grin widens.
“Oh sweetheart,” he says.
“Trouble’s my favorite thing.”
The two of you clink glasses. And across the room, Daisy watches the interaction with a knowing smile.
The music in the Third Rail hums through the room, low and steady, blending with the chatter of travelers and locals crowded around the tables. Neon lights flicker faintly against the cracked walls while the smell of booze and old wood fills the air.
You lean against the bar beside Hancock, slowly sipping your drink. It’s strong. Which is not surprising.
Hancock watches you over the rim of his glass, glowing eyes studying your reaction with quiet amusement.
You swallow, then set the glass down.
“…that’s not subtle.”
He chuckles.
“Goodneighbor doesn’t really do subtle, sunshine.”
“I noticed.”
He leans one elbow on the bar, turning slightly toward you now.
“So,” he says, voice lowering just enough to sound conspiratorial, “you gonna tell me your name or should I keep calling you sunshine all night?”
You glance sideways at him.
“You seem pretty committed to sunshine.”
“Well it suits you.”
“That wasn’t an answer.”
“Neither was yours.”
You smile faintly and take another sip of your drink. Hancock studies you again for a moment.
“You know,” he says after a second, “most people don’t flirt with the mayor five minutes after walking into town.”
“Most people seem boring.”
“That’s fair.”
You turn slightly toward him now.
“And most mayors don’t flirt with strangers either.”
Hancock raises an eyebrow.
“You new to the Commonwealth?”
“Not that new.”
“Then you should know I’m not exactly a traditional mayor.”
You glance around the bar. The guards laughing near the stage. The gambler losing caps at the corner table. The neon sign buzzing overhead.
“…yeah,” you say. “That checks out.”
A voice suddenly pipes up from the other end of the bar.
“Well now,” Daisy says, leaning over the counter with a knowing grin. “This is new.”
Hancock sighs.
“Don’t start.”
Daisy ignores him completely. She looks at you instead.
“So you’re the one causing trouble already.”
You blink.
“I just got here.”
She laughs.
“Honey, I’ve known Hancock long enough to recognize that look.”
Hancock groans quietly.
“Daisy.”
“What?”
“You’re embarrassing me.”
She snorts.
“Since when do you get embarrassed?”
You glance between them. Then lean slightly toward Hancock.
“…you get embarrassed?”
“Not usually.”
Daisy grins wider.
“He does when someone out flirts him.”
Hancock straightens slightly.
“That has never happened.”
You raise an eyebrow.
“Really?”
Daisy gestures toward you.
“I rest my case.”
The ghoul mayor runs a hand across the back of his neck, muttering something under his breath. You smile into your drink.
“So,” you say casually, “how long before people start placing bets?”
Daisy immediately points across the room.
“They already have.”
You glance over. Sure enough, a couple of locals are whispering while occasionally glancing toward the two of you.
Hancock sighs deeply.
“This town is unbelievable.”
You lean closer to him again.
“Relax,” you murmur. “You started it.”
“I absolutely did not.”
“You called me sunshine.”
“Well it fits.”
You tilt your head.
“And what about sweetheart?”
His grin creeps back slowly.
“You like that one?”
“Maybe.”
“Careful now.”
“Why?”
“You keep flirting like that,” he says, leaning a little closer, “and I might start thinking you mean it.”
You meet his eyes again. Close now.
Close enough to see the faint cracks in his scarred skin and the amused glow in his gaze.
“Oh,” you say softly.
“I definitely mean it.”
For the second time tonight, Hancock hesitates. Just long enough for Daisy to laugh loudly behind the bar.
“Well I’ll be damned,” she says. “Someone finally met their match.”
Hancock shakes his head slowly, a crooked smile spreading across his face.
“Yeah,” he mutters.
Then he glances back at you again.
“…I think I like this game.”
A couple of the regulars at the nearby tables glance over. One of them leans toward another, whispering something before sliding a few caps across the table.
You notice the movement. So does Hancock. He exhales slowly through his nose.
“…I hate this town.”
You lift an eyebrow.
“You run this town.”
“Exactly my problem.”
Daisy leans across the bar toward the small crowd that’s beginning to gather.
“Well then,” she says loudly, clapping her hands together once. “Let’s make it interesting.”
Hancock’s eyes close briefly.
“Daisy.”
“What?”
“You’re about to do something stupid.”
She completely ignores him.
“Ten caps says the newcomer kisses him before midnight.”
The room perks up instantly. Caps clink against wood as people lean forward in their seats.
“Five says Hancock cracks first,” someone calls from the back.
“No way,” another voice says. “Mayor’s too smooth for that.”
More caps slide across the table. You glance slowly around the bar.
“…are they betting on us?”
Hancock rubs the bridge of his nose.
“Yes.”
Daisy grins like a cat who just knocked something expensive off a shelf.
“You’re welcome.”
You glance back at the crowd again, watching a few of them whisper and point. Then you look at Hancock.
“…should we be offended?”
He shrugs.
“Goodneighbor gets bored easy.”
You lean a little closer toward him.
“So now we’re entertainment.”
“Looks that way.”
Your lips curl faintly.
“That makes this more fun.”
Hancock squints slightly at you.
“Careful, sunshine.”
“Why?”
“Because you look like you’re about to do something.”
You lift your drink and take another sip.
“I’m always about to do something.”
Across the room someone shouts, “Clock’s ticking!”
The whole bar erupts into laughter. Hancock sighs heavily and pushes away from the bar.
“This is why I can’t have nice things.”
You set your empty glass down.
“So,” you say casually, “you gonna show me the rest of your town, or are we staying here while half of Goodneighbor gambles on our lives?”
He looks at you for a moment. Then he sighs again.
“C’mon, sunshine.”
You follow him out of the Third Rail. The music fades behind you as the door swings shut and the cooler night air hits your face. Goodneighbor looks different after dark. The crooked neon lights glow brighter, buzzing softly above the uneven streets while shadows stretch between the buildings.
A few people linger outside, talking quietly or smoking. Someone nods respectfully when Hancock walks past.
You stroll beside him at an easy pace.
“So this is the famous Goodneighbor nightlife.”
“Don’t get too impressed,” Hancock says. “Most of the excitement happens when people start shooting.”
“That sounds promising.”
“You’d fit in fine here.”
You glance sideways at him.
“That supposed to be a compliment?”
“Take it however you want.”
You pass KLEO’s shop again, the metal door half shut now, the dim glow of lights still visible through the windows.
“Interesting place,” you say.
“Yeah,” he replies. “People come here because they don’t belong anywhere else.”
You hum softly.
“That explains the vibe.”
He glances at you.
“You speaking from experience?”
“Maybe.”
You keep walking. The gate of Goodneighbor is visible now at the end of the street, the wasteland stretching dark and endless beyond it.
Hancock slows slightly.
“You planning on heading back out there tonight?”
You shrug.
“Wasn’t planning on staying.”
“Most people change their minds.”
“Maybe most people don’t have things to do.”
He watches you for a moment.
“You’re really just passing through.”
“That’s what I said.”
You stop beneath one of the flickering neon signs.
The red light washes faintly across Hancock’s coat. For a second neither of you says anything. Then he tilts his head slightly.
“So tell me something, sunshine.”
“What?”
“You actually planning on kissing me before midnight?”
You smile slowly.
“Maybe.”
“That’s not comforting.”
You step a little closer to him. Close enough that he can see the quiet amusement in your expression.
“Relax,” you say softly.
“I’m not that predictable.”
He studies you carefully.
“…you’re trouble.”
You nod once.
“I warned you.”
A moment passes between the two of you. Then you step back again.
“Well,” you say lightly, “I should probably get going.”
Hancock blinks.
“That’s it?”
“What?”
“You’re just leaving?”
“Got places to be.”
He studies you for a second.
“…you’re unbelievable.”
You shrug.
“Just passing through.”
You turn and start walking toward the gate. The wasteland beyond Goodneighbor stretches dark and quiet under the stars. After a few steps you stop. Then slowly turn around.
Hancock is still standing under the neon light, watching you leave. You walk back toward him. He looks slightly confused now.
“What are—”
You grab the front of his coat and pull him down just enough to kiss him. The kiss is quick. But real.
When you pull away, Hancock looks genuinely surprised for the first time all night. Then the crooked grin slowly returns.
“Well damn,” he mutters.
You step back again.
“Tell Daisy she wins the bet.”
He laughs softly.
“You just made her a lot of caps.”
You turn and start walking again toward the gate.
The wind from the wasteland brushes against your jacket as you pass through.
After a few steps you glance back over your shoulder.
“Try not to miss me too much, Mr. Mayor.”
Hancock shakes his head, still smiling.
“…sunshine,” he calls after you.
But you’re already disappearing into the dark Commonwealth beyond Goodneighbor.
Gunfire cracks across the rail yard again. You duck behind the train car as another bullet ricochets off the metal above your head, sending sparks raining down into the sand. The sound echoes between the rows of rusted cars, turning the entire yard into a ringing cage of noise.
Beside you, Cooper reloads smoothly, the movement practiced and calm even with half a dozen guns pointed your direction.
Across the yard, the tall figure in the warehouse doorway hasn’t moved. Calder.
Even from this distance you can see the way he stands, completely still, arms loosely at his sides while chaos erupts around him. Like the fight unfolding in the rail yard is just another performance meant for his entertainment.
You raise your rifle again and fire toward the crates. One of Calder’s guards drops with a shout.
“Four left,” you mutter.
“Three,” Cooper replies.
A moment later another guard appears from behind a train car further down the track.
“Make that four again.”
Dogmeat darts between the train wheels, barking furiously as he circles around the fight. One of the men tries to aim at him, but Cooper’s revolver cracks before he can fire. The man collapses into the sand.
“Three now,” Cooper says.
You lean out to take another shot, and a rifle cracks from somewhere high. The bullet slams into the metal rail just inches from your shoulder.
“Sniper,” you hiss.
Cooper’s eyes flick upward. The shooter stands on top of one of the taller freight cars further down the yard, rifle already swinging down for another shot.
You start to line up your rifle. Then Cooper suddenly grabs your shoulder and shoves you backward.
The second shot tears through the space where you had been standing. You slam against the metal wall of the train car behind you.
Cooper is suddenly right in front of you again, one hand braced against the metal beside your head to steady himself as he leans out just long enough to fire.
The sniper disappears from the top of the train car with a startled yell. You blink up at him.
“…you keep doing that.”
“Doing what?”
“Throwing me around.”
He smirks faintly.
“You’re welcome sweetheart.”
Another guard rushes forward from the warehouse. You step out and fire before he even finishes raising his weapon. He drops instantly. Now the yard is quiet again. Only two figures remain standing.
One of them is the sniper you knocked off the train car, now limping behind a stack of crates. The other stands exactly where he was before. In the warehouse doorway. It’s Calder of course. He claps slowly.
The sound carries across the rail yard.
“Well,” his voice calls out calmly, “that was entertaining.”
You narrow your eyes. Cooper leans casually against the train car beside you.
“Told you he was dramatic,” he mutters.
Calder takes a few steps forward, boots crunching softly in the sand as he leaves the doorway. He’s tall and broad shouldered. And far too calm for someone who just lost most of his guards.
His eyes move slowly between you and Cooper.
“So,” he says, voice carrying easily across the yard.
“The ghoul.”
Cooper tips his hat slightly.
“Afternoon.”
Calder’s gaze shifts to you.
“And the new hunter.”
You tighten your grip on the rifle.
“You talk a lot.”
He smiles faintly.
“Occupational hazard.”
Behind you, the runner groans weakly where Cooper knocked him out earlier. Calder glances briefly toward the sound.
“Ah,” he says softly. “There’s my courier.”
You step slightly forward.
“You’re worth a lot of caps.”
“That’s what they tell me.”
Cooper studies him carefully now.
“You knew we were coming.”
Calder shrugs.
“Hunters always come eventually.”
Then he gestures lazily toward the rail yard around him.
“I figured I’d make it interesting.”
You glance at Cooper. He looks almost amused.
“See?” he mutters quietly. “Party.”
Calder’s eyes flick toward the two of you again.
“I’ll give you one chance,” he says.
“Leave.”
The wind moves across the tracks again, carrying dust through the empty yard. You raise the rifle.
“Not happening.”
Calder sighs.
“Pity.”
Behind him, the sniper suddenly emerges from cover and raises his rifle. You spot the movement instantly.
“Down—!”
The shouting, the footsteps, the sharp crack of rifles bouncing between the train cars, all of it fades away, leaving only the distant whistle of wind slipping through the rusted metal skeletons of old freight cars.
At first the pain doesn’t fully register. Your body feels strangely light, like you’ve been knocked sideways into a dream where everything is a few seconds behind.
Then the heat spreads. A burning ache blooms through your side, sharp and deep enough to steal the air from your lungs.
You suck in a breath. That’s when you feel it. The wet warmth spreading beneath you.
Across the rail yard, the last of Calder’s men are down. One body lies half twisted beside the crates, another sprawled near the tracks where Cooper’s last shot dropped him.
And Calder himself, Calder is gone.
You vaguely remember seeing him step backward toward the warehouse door just before the sniper fired. The moment the shot hit, he vanished into the shadows like smoke.
But Cooper doesn’t chase him. Not this time. Instead he’s already moving toward you.
“…damn it,” he mutters under his breath.
His boots crunch across the gravel as he drops to one knee beside you. The revolver is still in his hand for a moment, eyes scanning the yard out of pure habit, making sure nothing else is coming.
When he’s satisfied the danger is over, for now, he finally looks down. And freezes. Blood is spreading across your jacket. More than he expected.
“Hey,” you mumble weakly.
Your voice sounds distant, even to yourself. Cooper holsters the revolver immediately and presses a hand against your side.The pressure makes you wince.
“Easy,” he says quietly.
You blink up at him, trying to focus on his face. The brim of his hat throws his eyes into shadow, but you can still see the tension pulling tight across his jaw.
That familiar calm expression he carries everywhere is gone.
“…you look upset,” you murmur.
“You’re bleeding.”
You glance down slowly. The dark stain spreading across your side makes your stomach twist slightly.
“…huh.”
Dogmeat appears a second later, running across the sand and skidding to a stop beside you. The dog whines softly, nudging your shoulder with his nose.
“Hey buddy,” you say weakly, reaching up to scratch behind his ear. Your hand feels heavier than it should. Cooper presses harder against the wound. You suck in a sharp breath.
“Hold still.”
“Wasn’t planning on going anywhere.”
He pulls a folded cloth from inside his coat and presses it firmly against the bullet wound, his hands steady even if the tension in his shoulders says otherwise. Your breathing slows. The sky above you spins slightly.
“…looked worse than it felt,” you say after a moment.
Cooper doesn’t even glance up.
“Not funny.”
“I’m serious.”
“You’re bleeding through two layers of clothing.”
“…that does sound bad when you say it like that.”
He tears open a bandage from his pack and begins wrapping it around your side, pulling the fabric tight enough to stop the bleeding. The pressure makes you grit your teeth.
“Easy,” he mutters.
“You keep saying that.”
“Because you keep moving.”
You breathe slowly, watching him work. His movements are quick and practiced, but there’s something else there, something sharper than simple focus. Worry.
“…you know,” you say quietly, “for someone who claims to hate people, you’re being very attentive.”
He tightens the bandage another inch. You hiss through your teeth.
“Hold still.”
You stare up at him for a moment.
“…if I didn’t know better,” you add weakly, “I’d say you were worried about me.”
He pauses. Just for a second.
“I am worried.”
The words come out before he seems to catch them. Your eyebrows lift slightly.
“Well,” you say softly, “that’s kind of sweet.”
“You’re really attractive when you’re worried.”
He freezes for half a second.
His jaw tightens.
“…don’t start.”
“Why?”
“Because,” he mutters, adjusting the bandage again, “it sounds like something someone says right before they die.”
You blink. Then laugh weakly.
“Wow.”
“What?”
“That’s comforting.”
Dogmeat whines again, nudging your arm. You reach down and scratch behind his ears again.
“Relax,” you murmur. “I’m not dead yet.”
Cooper doesn’t answer immediately. Instead he finishes tying the bandage and presses his hand against it again, checking that the bleeding has slowed. It has. But not enough for his liking. You watch him quietly for a moment.
“…you shoved me out of the way earlier,” you say.
“Yeah.”
“That sniper would’ve taken your head off.”
“Probably.”
“So we’re even.”
He snorts quietly.
“That’s not how that works.”
You smile faintly.
“Sure it is.”
Your vision swims slightly again. The weakness creeping into your limbs feels heavier now. Cooper notices instantly.
“Hey.”
Your eyes flick back to his face.
“Stay with me.”
“…dramatic.”
“I mean it.”
You study him for a moment. For the first time since you met him, Cooper doesn’t look amused. Doesn’t look sarcastic. Doesn’t look distant. He looks scared. You swallow slowly.
“…relax,” you say quietly.
“Not planning on dying today.”
His shoulders loosen slightly at that.
“Good.”
You tilt your head a little.
“Because you’d miss me.”
He scoffs.
“Don’t flatter yourself.”
But the way his hand stays firmly pressed against the bandage tells a different story. And for a moment, neither of you says anything.
————-
The rail yard feels strangely quiet now. The wind slips through the rows of rusted train cars, rattling loose sheets of metal somewhere in the distance while dust drifts lazily across the tracks.
Cooper is still crouched beside you, one hand pressed firmly against the bandage wrapped around your side.
The bleeding has slowed. But not enough to make him comfortable. You breathe slowly, staring up at the pale sky while the ache in your ribs pulses with every heartbeat.
After a moment you shift slightly. Cooper notices instantly.
“Don’t.”
“I’m fine,” you mutter.
“You’re not.”
You brace a hand against the sand and push yourself up onto one elbow. The world tilts. For a second your vision goes white around the edges. Cooper grabs your shoulder immediately.
“Easy.”
“I said I’m fine.”
You try to stand anyway. It lasts about two seconds.
The moment your weight hits your feet, the pain spikes through your side hard enough to steal the breath from your lungs. Your knees buckle and the ground rushes up again, except it never quite reaches you.
Cooper catches you before you fall.
One arm hooks firmly around your back, steadying you while you try to regain your balance.
You blink up at him.
“…okay,” you mumble after a second. “Maybe a little dizzy.”
He stares down at you.
“That’s the blood loss.”
“Probably.”
You try to straighten again. It doesn’t work. Your legs wobble slightly. Cooper sighs.
“Alright.”
Before you can ask what he means, he slips one arm behind your back and the other beneath your knees. Then he lifts you off the ground. Just like that. You stare at him.
“…hey.”
“Relax.”
“I can walk.”
“You just collapsed.”
“Actually I almost collapsed.”
“Same thing.”
Dogmeat trots happily beside you both as Cooper starts walking toward the warehouse. You squirm slightly in his arms.
“You know,” you mutter, “this is unnecessary.”
“Sure.”
“I mean it.”
“Uh huh.”
You glare weakly at him.
“I’m serious.”
He glances down at you.
“Darlin’, you just tried to faceplant into the dirt.”
“That was temporary.”
“Temporary unconsciousness usually is.”
You huff softly. But you don’t actually fight him very hard. The truth is… you’re too tired. Your head rests back slightly against his shoulder while he carries you across the tracks. After a moment you look up at him again.
“…you’re strong.”
He raises an eyebrow.
“You just noticing?”
“Shut up.”
You study him for a second.
“…it’s kind of hot.”
That earns a short laugh from him.
“Well I’m glad the near death experience hasn’t ruined your taste.”
You tilt your head slightly.
“Just making observations.”
“Keep those observations coming later,” he mutters. “Preferably when you’re not bleeding.”
The warehouse looms closer now. The large metal doors hang half open, creaking softly as the wind moves through them. Inside, the building is dim and quiet, filled with old machinery and scattered debris.
Cooper steps carefully over the threshold. The air inside smells like dust and rust. He carries you deeper into the building before finally stopping near an old stack of wooden crates.
“Alright.”
He lowers you carefully onto the ground, easing you back against the crates so you’re sitting instead of lying flat.
“Don’t move,” he says.
“I wasn’t planning to.”
He kneels in front of you again, checking the bandage once more. The bleeding has slowed. Finally. He exhales quietly. Dogmeat curls up beside you, resting his head against your leg. For a moment neither of you speaks.
The warehouse creaks softly around you. You study Cooper while he finishes tightening the bandage slightly.
“…you didn’t chase him,” you say eventually.
He doesn’t look up.
“You were bleeding out.”
“He’s worth a lot of caps.”
“Caps can wait.”
You watch him for a moment.
“…that almost sounded like concern.”
He snorts quietly.
“Don’t flatter yourself.”
You smile faintly.
“Too late.”
He sits back slightly, resting his arms on his knees now that the bandage is secure. For the first time since the fight started, things are quiet. Really quiet. You tilt your head slightly.
“…you were scared.”
That makes him pause. Only for a second.
“You got shot.”
“That’s not what I meant.”
He exhales slowly. The wind rattles the loose metal panels somewhere high in the warehouse ceiling. Then he finally looks at you again.
“…yeah,” he says quietly.
And somehow that simple answer says more than anything else he could’ve tried to explain.
—————
You sit slumped against the stack of crates where Cooper left you, the rough wood digging into your back just enough to keep you upright.
Your side aches. A slow, steady burn under the tight bandage he wrapped around your ribs.
Across from you, Cooper sits with one knee raised, forearms resting loosely over it while he watches the open warehouse doorway. His revolver rests casually in his hand, though the way he holds it tells you he’s ready to move again the second something looks wrong.
Dogmeat lies curled beside your leg, occasionally lifting his head to check on you before settling back down again.
For a while, none of you say anything. The quiet stretches. Then you break it.
“…you knew him.”
Cooper doesn’t look over.
“Knew who?”
“Calder.”
He exhales slowly through his nose. For a second you think he’s going to dodge the question. Then he shrugs.
“Yeah.”
You tilt your head slightly.
“That didn’t sound like a surprise earlier.”
“It wasn’t.”
The wind whistles faintly through the broken roof above. You study him for a moment.
“So what’s the story?”
He rolls the revolver once in his hand before resting it back against his knee.
“No story.”
“Everyone has a story.”
“Not one worth telling.”
You give him a faint look.
“That’s a lie.”
That earns the smallest hint of a smirk.
“Observant today.”
You shift slightly against the crates. The movement pulls a sharp sting from the wound in your side and you suck in a breath.
Cooper’s attention snaps back to you immediately.
“Easy.”
“I’m fine.”
“Sure.”
You let out a slow breath and lean your head back against the crate again.
“…so Calder.”
He stares at the doorway for a moment longer. Then finally speaks.
“Couple years back,” he says quietly. “I was working a job.”
You stay silent. Let him continue.
“Big one. Good caps.”
“Sounds familiar.”
He snorts quietly.
“Yeah.”
Dogmeat lifts his head slightly, listening to the sound of Cooper’s voice.
“There were three of us on the hunt,” Cooper continues. “Me… another hunter… and Calder.”
Your eyes narrow slightly.
“You worked together.”
“Once.”
“And?”
“And Calder decided the caps would look better if he didn’t have to split them.”
You tilt your head slightly.
“…that’s rude.”
“Yeah,” Cooper mutters. “That’s one word for it.”
He glances down at the floor for a second before continuing.
“Sold us out to a raider crew.”
The quiet stretches again. You blink slowly.
“…that’s worse than rude.”
He chuckles dryly.
“Yeah.”
“Did the other hunter make it?”
Cooper doesn’t answer right away. That silence tells you enough.
“…I see why you want the bounty,” you murmur.
“Caps are just a bonus.”
You watch him carefully. For someone who usually hides behind sarcasm and lazy confidence, his voice is strangely calm now. Almost distant.
“…you ever catch him before today?” you ask.
“No.”
Your lips curl slightly.
“So this has been bothering you for a while.”
“Something like that.”
The weakness creeping through your body grows heavier now. Your eyelids feel heavier too. You shift slightly again.
The movement pulls you a little closer to him without thinking. Cooper notices immediately.
“Hey.”
Your head tilts forward.
“Don’t go to sleep yet.”
“I’m not.”
“You look like it.”
“I’m just resting my eyes.”
“That’s exactly what people say before they pass out.”
You let out a quiet laugh.
“…dramatic.”
Dogmeat nudges your leg gently. You reach down to scratch behind his ear again. Your hand feels slower now. Heavier.
“Stay awake a little longer,” Cooper says quietly.
You try. You really do. But the warmth of the warehouse… the exhaustion… the dull ache in your side… It all pulls at you. Your head tips sideways. A second later it rests lightly against Cooper’s shoulder. He freezes. You mumble something half asleep.
“…still strong.”
He glances down at you.
“You’re delirious.”
“…still hot.”
He exhales slowly through his nose.
“Yeah,” he mutters. “That’s the blood loss talking.”
Your breathing evens out. Just like that. You’re asleep. For a moment Cooper doesn’t move. Then he shifts slightly so your head rests more comfortably against his shoulder. Dogmeat watches the two of you quietly. Cooper notices. He glances down at the dog.
“…don’t look at me like that.”
Dogmeat tilts his head.
“It wasn’t me.”
The dog continues staring. Cooper sighs and rests his revolver across his knee again while keeping watch over the quiet warehouse.
“…I didn’t start this,” he mutters.
Dogmeat’s tail thumps once against the dusty floor. And for the first time since the fight started, the warehouse feels almost peaceful.
For a while, nothing moves.
The warehouse sits in a quiet kind of stillness, broken only by the occasional groan of old metal shifting somewhere in the rafters above. Dust drifts slowly through thin beams of sunlight that slip through the broken roof, settling across the cracked concrete floor.
Cooper sits with his back against the crate, revolver resting loosely in his hand.
Your head is still leaning against his shoulder. Your breathing has slowed, steady now, though the faint tension in your brow tells him you’re not exactly comfortable. The bandage around your side has held so far, the bleeding slowed enough that he’s stopped checking it every few seconds.
Dogmeat lies curled beside your leg. The dog’s ears twitch suddenly. Cooper notices instantly. Dogmeat lifts his head. A low growl rumbles quietly in his chest. Cooper freezes.
He doesn’t move his head, doesn’t shift his weight. His hand simply tightens slightly around the revolver while his eyes flick toward the darker end of the warehouse. Footsteps.
They echo faintly across the metal floor somewhere deeper in the building. Dogmeat stands, the fur along his back lifting as the growl deepens. Cooper lowers his voice.
“Easy.”
Your head shifts slightly against his shoulder. You mumble something half asleep but don’t wake. The footsteps stop. Silence stretches across the warehouse again. Then a voice drifts through the shadows.
“Well now.”
Cooper’s eyes narrow. Calder steps out from behind a line of rusted machinery near the far wall, hands loosely clasped behind his back like he’s taking a leisurely walk through the place.
He looks exactly the same as before. Calm. So Unbothered. His gaze moves across the room until it settles on the two of you sitting by the crates. A faint smile touches his mouth.
“You always did have terrible luck with partners.”
Cooper doesn’t move.
“Funny,” he says calmly. “I was thinking the same thing about you.”
Calder’s eyes drop briefly to where your head rests against Cooper’s shoulder.
“New one,” he observes.
Dogmeat’s growl grows louder. Calder glances down at the dog.
“Ah,” he murmurs. “Still traveling with the mutt, I see.”
Dogmeat bares his teeth slightly. Cooper scratches behind the dog’s ear absently.
“Careful,” he says. “He bites.”
Calder chuckles softly.
“I remember.”
The two men watch each other across the dusty warehouse floor. Neither one moves closer. Neither one looks particularly worried.
You shift again. Your eyes blink open slowly.
“…what’s happening,” you mumble. Cooper glances down briefly.
“Stay put.”
You squint slightly, trying to focus. Your gaze drifts across the warehouse. Then lands on the tall figure standing across the room.
“…oh.”
Your head lifts slightly from Cooper’s shoulder.
“That’s him.”
Calder nods faintly.
“Good evening.”
You try to push yourself upright. Pain flares immediately through your side. Cooper’s hand presses gently against your shoulder.
“Sit.”
“I can stand.”
“You can barely breathe.”
You glare weakly at him.
“I’m fine.”
Calder watches the exchange with quiet amusement.
“You brought an injured hunter to finish the job?” he says. “That seems… inefficient.”
Cooper’s gaze flicks back toward him.
“You should worry about yourself.”
Calder shrugs.
“Perhaps.”
Then his expression shifts slightly. The faint smile fades.
“You know,” he says calmly, “you could’ve walked away earlier.”
Cooper tilts his head.
“Not really my style.”
Calder sighs softly.
“Still holding onto that grudge.”
“Still breathing,” Cooper replies.
Calder’s eyes flick toward you again. Then back to Cooper.
“You shouldn’t have brought someone else into this.”
The words hang in the air. For a moment the warehouse goes completely still again. Dogmeat’s growl deepens. You glance between the two men.
“…so this is awkward.”
Cooper sighs quietly.
“Yeah.”
Dust drifts lazily through the air between the two men while the wind rattles a loose sheet of metal somewhere above. Calder watches him approach. Still calm.
Still smiling faintly like this entire situation is some mildly entertaining inconvenience. Dogmeat steps forward beside Cooper, low growl rumbling deep in his chest.
You shift against the crates behind them, trying to sit up straighter. The movement pulls sharply at the wound in your side and you suck in a quiet breath.
Cooper hears it immediately. He glances back over his shoulder.
“Stay.”
You give him a look.
“I said I could—”
“You also said you were fine ten minutes ago.”
“…I am.”
He gives you a long, unimpressed stare.
“Sit.”
You sigh and lean back again.
“Bossy.”
Calder watches the exchange with visible amusement.
“Well,” he says lightly, “this is new.”
Cooper stops about fifteen feet away from him.
“Don’t.”
Calder raises an eyebrow.
“Don’t what?”
“Talk.”
“That’s not very friendly.”
“You betrayed me,” Cooper says flatly.
Calder sighs softly.
“You’re still upset about that.”
“You sold us to raiders.”
Calder tilts his head slightly.
“You survived.”
“The other hunter didn’t.”
Calder shrugs.
“Occupational hazard.”
Your jaw tightens from across the room.
“…wow.”
Both men glance briefly toward you.
“That’s cold,” you mutter.
Calder chuckles.
“You must be the new one.”
“Unfortunately.”
Dogmeat barks sharply. Calder glances at the dog again.
“You really kept the same company all these years,” he says to Cooper. “Dog and grudges.”
Cooper’s hand rests casually near his revolver now.
“Funny thing about grudges.”
Calder studies him.
“They don’t go away.”
For a moment neither of them moves. The tension between them tightens the air in the warehouse until it feels like the entire building is holding its breath.
You push yourself forward slightly again, ignoring the protest in your ribs.
“Just shoot him already,” you say.
Both men look back at you again. Cooper sighs.
“You’re suppose to be resting.”
“I’m resting aggressively.”
Calder laughs.
“I like this one.”
“She’s not part of this,” Cooper says.
You blink.
“…excuse me?”
Calder smiles faintly.
“That’s interesting.”
“Walk away,” Cooper says quietly.
Calder studies him for a long moment. Then his gaze flicks toward you again. You’re pale. Still sitting against the crate. Blood has seeped faintly through the edge of the bandage.
Calder notices. Of course he does.
“…she’s not walking anywhere,” he says. “Maybe I’ll kill you and take her with me.”
You raise your rifle slightly from where it rests beside you.
“I can still shoot.”
Cooper doesn’t even look back.
“You’re not shooting.”
“You don’t get to decide that.”
“Yeah,” he mutters. “I kinda do.”
Calder watches the exchange thoughtfully.
“You’re protecting her,” he observes.
“Not really.”
“That’s new.”
Cooper doesn’t answer. For the first time, Calder’s posture shifts slightly. He reaches slowly into his coat. Dogmeat growls louder. Your hand tightens around the rifle. Cooper’s revolver comes up instantly.
“Careful,” Calder says calmly.
His hand emerges holding a pistol. The moment stretches. Three guns. Three people watching each other across the warehouse floor. Then Calder sighs.
“You know,” he says quietly, “this really didn’t have to happen.”
Cooper tilts his head.
“You could’ve not betrayed me.”
“That’s one option.”
“And yet here we are.”
Calder raises the pistol.
“So we are.”
The gunshot cracks through the warehouse. And this time, Cooper fires first.
Calder barely manages to twist sideways before the bullet tears into the metal beam behind him, sending sparks and rust flying into the air. He dives behind a stack of old crates as his own pistol fires in return.
The shot slams into the concrete floor near Cooper’s boots. Cooper moves instantly. He ducks behind a rusted machine frame as another round whistles past his shoulder.
The warehouse erupts into chaos again. Dust shakes loose from the rafters as the two men exchange gunfire across the open space.
From where you’re sitting against the crates, the world feels slightly slower. Your head spins faintly, but the sound of gunfire snaps your focus back into place.
You grab your rifle. Across the warehouse Calder shifts behind the crates, leaning out just long enough to fire again. The shot cracks across the room.
You see where he’s aiming.
“Left!” you shout.
Cooper shifts a split second before the bullet reaches him. It slams into the machinery where his chest had been moments earlier.
He glances back at you briefly.
“Thought you were resting.”
“Resting aggressively,” you mutter.
Calder moves again. You see the opening. You raise the rifle and fire.
The shot strikes the edge of Calder’s cover, forcing him back behind the crates.
“Damn,” he mutters from the other side of the room.
Dogmeat barks sharply beside Cooper, circling wide along the warehouse wall.
Calder leans out again, and Dogmeat launches.
The dog hits him from the side with a snarl, jaws snapping toward his arm. Calder stumbles backward with a startled curse, his pistol jerking wildly as he tries to shake the dog off.
The gun fires into the ceiling. Cooper doesn’t hesitate. He closes the distance in two quick strides. Calder manages to shove Dogmeat aside just as Cooper reaches him, the two men colliding hard against the crates.
The pistol clatters across the floor. For a moment it’s just fists and momentum.
Calder swings first, catching Cooper across the jaw. Cooper stumbles back a step but recovers quickly, driving his shoulder into Calder’s chest and slamming him into the side of the crate stack.Wood splinters. Calder grunts as the air leaves his lungs.
“You’re slower than you used to be,” he mutters.
Cooper wipes blood from the corner of his mouth.
“You’re still talking too much.”
Calder lunges again, trying to reach the fallen pistol. Cooper kicks it across the floor before either of them can grab it.
The weapon skids across the concrete and stops near your crate. You glance down at it Then back at them.
“…well that’s convenient.”
The two men barely notice. Calder swings again.
This time Cooper catches his arm and twists, forcing him back against the crates. Calder struggles hard, trying to break the hold, but Cooper’s grip tightens as he drives him down against the wood.
Dogmeat circles back in, barking furiously. You push yourself up slightly, ignoring the sharp protest from your side.
“Hey!” you call out.
Both men glance toward you for half a second. You pick up the pistol from the floor and raise it.
“Anybody want this?”
Calder’s eyes narrow. Cooper smirks.
“Tempting offer.”
Calder shoves forward suddenly, trying to break Cooper’s grip.
The movement gives Cooper exactly the opening he needs.
He drives his fist into Calder’s ribs, forcing the air from his lungs. Calder staggers back a step—
And Cooper draws his revolver. The barrel presses firmly against Calder’s chest.
The warehouse goes quiet again. Dust floats slowly through the air. Dogmeat stands beside Cooper, still growling. Calder breathes heavily but doesn’t move.
After a moment he chuckles faintly.
“Well,” he mutters.
“Looks like you finally caught me.”
Cooper studies him for a long moment. Then he glances back at you.
You’re still sitting against the crates, pale but conscious, pistol resting loosely in your hand.
“…took you long enough,” you say.
Calder laughs softly.
“Nice partner.”
Cooper looks back at him.
“Yeah.”
Then the revolver fires. The shot echoes through the warehouse.
Calder collapses against the crates before sliding slowly to the floor.
Silence settles across the room again. For a few seconds Cooper just stands there, staring down at the body.
Then he exhales slowly and holsters the revolver. Dogmeat’s tail begins wagging again. Across the room you let your head fall back against the crate.
“…well,” you murmur.
“That was dramatic.”
Cooper turns and walks back toward you. When he reaches you, he crouches down and looks at the pistol still in your hand.
“You weren’t supposed to move.”
“You weren’t supposed to get punched.”
“Fair.”
You try to stand again. It goes exactly as well as last time. Your legs wobble and the room tilts. Before you fall, Cooper catches you again.
“You’re impossible,” he mutters.
You lean slightly against him.
“…you like me.”
He snorts.
“Debatable.”
But he doesn’t let go.
“Next time,” he mutters, “you listen when I say sit.”
You smile faintly.
“Next time you don’t take so long.”
He shakes his head.
“You’re unbelievable.”
You lean into him more, mostly because standing upright suddenly feels like a very complicated task.
“…I warned you earlier.”
“Warned me about what?”
“That I’m a lot of trouble.”
He snorts softly.
“Yeah, I’m starting to notice.”
You look up at him. For a second neither of you says anything. The warehouse feels calmer now. The fight is over. The job is done.
The wind pushes softly through the open doors while Dogmeat wanders over and sits beside the two of you again.
After a moment Cooper shifts slightly, adjusting his grip so you’re more comfortable leaning against him.
“Think you can walk?” he asks.
You consider it.
“…probably.”
He raises an eyebrow.
“That didn’t sound convincing.”
“It’ll work.”
“Uh huh.”
He doesn’t let go though.
Instead he slowly helps you toward the warehouse door, keeping one arm around your shoulders as you move.
The sunlight outside feels brighter after the dim interior of the building.
The rail yard stretches out in front of you again, quiet now except for the wind brushing across the empty tracks.
Dogmeat trots ahead of you both, tail wagging happily like none of the chaos from earlier even happened.
You glance up at Cooper as you limp beside him.
“…you carried me earlier.”
“Don’t remind me.”
“Very gentlemanly.”
“I wouldn’t get used to it.”
You smile faintly.
“Still strong.”
“Still injured.”
“Still hot.”
He stops walking for half a second and looks down at you.
“…you’re unbelievable.”
You shrug weakly.
“Just making observations.”
He shakes his head and starts walking again, keeping a steady arm around you as the two of you make your slow way across the rail yard. Dogmeat barks happily somewhere ahead.
The wind moves through the broken train cars.
And despite everything, Cooper can’t quite stop the small smile tugging at the corner of his mouth.
Summary: A visit to Goodneighbor reunites the reader with Hancock, much to Cooper’s irritation.
The road to Goodneighbor is long, dusty, and far too quiet.
Cooper walks a few steps ahead of you, boots crunching over broken pavement while the late afternoon sun hangs low over the ruins of Boston. The brim of his hat throws a shadow across his face, but you can still see the faint smirk that seems permanently attached to him.
You’ve been traveling together for weeks now. Not officially partners. But close enough.
Close enough to share caps, ammo, and the occasional bottle when the night gets too cold. Close enough that the flirting has become second nature. Cooper glances back at you over his shoulder.
“You still planning on telling me where we’re going, darlin’?”
You adjust the strap of your bag and keep walking.
“Soon.”
“That’s what you said yesterday.”
“And the day before.”
“Yeah,” he mutters. “Starting to think you’re making it up.”
You smile faintly.
“Relax.”
“That’s not reassuring.”
Ahead of you, the tall metal gates of Goodneighbor finally come into view.
The crooked neon lights buzz faintly above the entrance while a couple of guards stand lazily near the gate. Cooper slows his pace.
“…Goodneighbor.”
You nod.
“Told you I knew someone.”
He tilts his head slightly.
“Someone who lives in the most dangerous neighborhood in the Commonwealth.”
“You say that like it’s surprising.”
He chuckles under his breath.
“You always full of secrets, sweetheart?”
“Only the fun ones.”
The two of you approach the gate. One of the guards looks up lazily.
“State your business.”
You glance past him toward the crooked streets inside.
“Just visiting.”
The guard shrugs and steps aside.
“Try not to start any trouble.”
You walk inside. Goodneighbor is exactly as chaotic as ever.
Neon lights flicker above crooked buildings. Music spills out of the Third Rail somewhere down the street, and a couple of locals are arguing loudly near the Memory Den.
Cooper watches everything carefully as you move through the street.
“You know someone here,” he says.
“Yeah.”
“You gonna introduce me?”
“Maybe.”
He stops walking suddenly.
“…maybe?”
You keep walking.
“You’re being dramatic.”
“Darlin’, I’m starting to think this mystery friend of yours is fictional.”
You turn down the main street. Then stop.
Standing on the steps of the Old State House is a familiar figure in a red coat. Hancock.
He leans casually against the railing, hat tilted slightly while he watches the street below like a man who has absolutely nothing better to do.
Then his glowing eyes land on you. He freezes. For half a second. Then the grin spreads slowly across his face.
“Well I’ll be damned.”
You hear Cooper stop behind you. Hancock pushes himself off the railing and walks down the steps.
“Sunshine,” he says warmly.
“Been a while.”
You smile.
“It has.”
He stops in front of you, looking you up and down like he’s making sure you’re real.
“You disappear into the wasteland for months and then just stroll back into my town like nothing happened.”
“Miss me?”
He laughs softly.
“You know I did.”
Behind you, Cooper clears his throat. Hancock’s eyes finally flick toward him. Then back to you.
“…you brought company.”
You glance over your shoulder.
“Oh.”
“Right.”
You gesture between them.
“Hancock, this is Cooper.”
The two ghouls study each other carefully. Cooper tips his hat slightly.
“Afternoon.”
Hancock grins.
“Cowboy.”
Then he looks back at you again.
“You didn’t tell me you were traveling with someone.”
You shrug.
“Didn’t come up.”
Hancock chuckles.
“Funny.”
Cooper folds his arms slightly.
“You two know each other.”
Hancock raises an eyebrow.
“Know each other?”
He glances back at you again, clearly amused.
“Is that what we’re calling it now, sunshine?”
You roll your eyes.
“Don’t start.”
Cooper looks between the two of you. Slowly.
“…I don’t like the sound of that.”
Hancock’s grin widens.
“Oh I do.”
For the first time since arriving in Goodneighbor, Cooper looks genuinely suspicious. And maybe just a little jealous.
Hancock’s grin doesn’t fade. If anything, it grows wider the longer Cooper studies him.
The two ghouls stand there in the middle of Goodneighbor’s main street, both tall, both armed, both clearly sizing each other up.
You sigh quietly.
“…this is already going exactly how I expected.”
Cooper tilts his head slightly toward you.
“And how’s that, darlin’?”
“Complicated.”
Hancock chuckles.
“Oh sweetheart,” he says lightly, “you have no idea.”
Cooper’s glowing eyes narrow slightly.
“You always this friendly with strangers?”
Hancock raises an eyebrow.
“Strangers?”
He glances at you again.
“Sunshine and I go way back.”
You immediately shake your head.
“Don’t exaggerate.”
“I’m not exaggerating.”
“You absolutely are.”
Cooper looks between the two of you slowly.
“…how far back?”
Hancock leans casually against the railing again, arms crossing loosely over his chest.
“Oh I don’t know,” he says thoughtfully. “Couple months. Maybe longer.”
You shrug.
“Something like that.”
Cooper looks unimpressed.
“And you didn’t think to mention this.”
“I said I knew someone in Goodneighbor.”
“You left out the part where it’s the mayor.”
Hancock smirks.
“Don’t worry, cowboy,” he says. “She left out a lot of things.”
You give him a warning look.
“Hancock.”
“What?”
“Don’t.”
He laughs under his breath. Cooper notices. His gaze shifts back toward you.
“…I definitely don’t like the sound of that.”
“Relax,” you say.
“I am relaxed.”
“You don’t look relaxed.”
“Darlin’, I’m traveling with someone who apparently collects ghouls.”
Hancock laughs loudly.
“Oh I like this guy.”
You pinch the bridge of your nose.
“This was a mistake.”
Hancock straightens and gestures toward the street.
“Well now that the introductions are awkward,” he says, “why don’t we continue this conversation somewhere that sells alcohol?”
“That sounds dangerous,” Cooper mutters.
“You have no idea.”
Hancock starts walking toward the Third Rail. You follow. Cooper walks beside you after a second, still glancing occasionally toward Hancock like he’s trying to figure him out.
“…sunshine,” Hancock calls over his shoulder casually.
You groan.
“You’re not starting that again.”
“You never complained before.”
Cooper’s head turns sharply toward you.
“…before?”
You immediately wave your hand.
“It’s a nickname.”
Hancock smirks.
“It’s a very good nickname.”
The three of you step inside the Third Rail. Music spills through the room while the usual crowd fills the tables. Daisy looks up from behind the bar. Her eyes land on Hancock. Then on you. Then on Cooper. Her grin grows slowly.
“Well well well,” she says.
Hancock sighs.
“Don’t.”
“Oh I’m absolutely starting.”
She leans across the bar.
“Sunshine’s back.”
You raise a hand.
“Hi Daisy.”
“And she brought another one.”
Cooper tips his hat slightly.
“Ma’am.”
Daisy studies him.
“Cowboy ghoul.”
“That’s me.”
She glances between the two men. Then back at you.
“…oh this is going to be fun.”
You already know what she’s thinking.
“Daisy.”
“Yes?”
“Don’t start anything.”
She smiles sweetly.
“I would never.”
Hancock leans on the bar.
“Three drinks.”
Daisy pours them immediately, still watching the three of you like someone who just discovered their favorite new entertainment.
Hancock slides one glass toward you. Cooper reaches for another. The tension between the two of them is subtle. But obvious.
Cooper leans slightly closer to you as he takes his drink.
“You always pick interesting friends,” he mutters quietly.
You take a sip.
“I warned you.”
Across the bar, Hancock watches the interaction. His eyes narrow just slightly. Then he leans toward you as well.
“So tell me something, sunshine.”
“What?”
“You still causing trouble across the Commonwealth?”
You smile faintly.
“Maybe.”
Cooper chuckles beside you.
“Oh she definitely is.”
Hancock looks between the two of you. Slowly. Then his grin returns.
“Well damn,” he says.
“This just got interesting.”
And suddenly Goodneighbor feels a lot smaller with the three of you standing in the same room.
The Third Rail is loud enough to make conversation difficult.
Music hums through the walls, glasses clink against the bar, and someone near the stage is laughing far too hard at something that probably wasn’t that funny. Daisy moves behind the counter with her usual slow confidence, pouring drinks while occasionally glancing toward the three of you with a look that says she’s already writing a story in her head.
You set your glass down.
“I’ll be right back.”
Both men look at you at the same time. Cooper tilts his head slightly.
“Where you going, darlin’?”
“Just need to check something.”
Hancock raises an eyebrow.
“In the middle of a drink?”
“Relax,” you say casually. “I’m not disappearing.”
You gesture toward the door.
“Stay.”
Hancock chuckles under his breath.
“Yes ma’am.”
You slip off the bar stool and weave your way through the crowd toward the exit. The door swings shut behind you.
For a moment the noise of the bar continues like nothing happened. Then Cooper slowly pushes his glass away.
Hancock watches him out of the corner of his eye. The cowboy ghoul stands.
“Excuse me.”
Hancock smirks slightly and takes another slow sip of his drink before sliding off his stool.
“Thought you might.”
Outside, Goodneighbor feels different at night. The neon signs buzz faintly above the crooked streets, casting red and purple light across the cracked pavement. A couple of people wander past in the distance, their voices low while the music from the Third Rail leaks out into the open air.
Cooper walks down one of the narrow alleys beside the building without saying a word.
Boots crunch lightly against the dirt and broken concrete. Hancock follows. The alley is quieter.
Just a weak flicker of neon light reaching around the corner and a metal pipe somewhere overhead dripping occasionally. Cooper stops near the wall.
Hancock leans casually against the opposite side, pulling out a cigarette and lighting it with slow, practiced ease.
The flame briefly illuminates his face before he takes a drag. Smoke curls lazily into the air.
For a moment neither of them speaks. Then Cooper finally says:
“So.”
Hancock exhales smoke.
“So.”
Cooper studies him.
“You two know each other.”
“Sharp observation, cowboy.”
“How long?”
Hancock shrugs slightly.
“Couple visits.”
“That’s vague.”
“That’s intentional.”
Cooper shifts his weight slightly, arms resting loosely at his sides.
“You always this annoying?”
Hancock grins.
“Oh I can be worse.”
The cowboy ghoul doesn’t smile back.
“She didn’t mention you.”
Hancock taps ash onto the pavement.
“She didn’t mention you either.”
Cooper snorts quietly.
“Fair.”
For a few seconds they stand there in the dim alley light, both clearly circling around the same thing. Hancock watches him carefully.
“You two traveling together long?”
“Long enough.”
“That sounds interesting.”
“It is.”
Another quiet stretch passes between them. Then Cooper finally asks the question that’s been sitting there since the moment they walked into Goodneighbor.
“You two together?”
Hancock’s glowing eyes flick toward him. Really look at him this time. Then he laughs softly.
“No.”
Cooper doesn’t react.
“Sounded like it earlier.”
Hancock rolls the cigarette between his fingers thoughtfully.
“Well now.”
He takes another slow drag.
“We were never together.”
Cooper’s gaze sharpens slightly.
“But.”
Hancock grins faintly.
“You’re impatient.”
“Just curious.”
Hancock studies him for a second longer, clearly enjoying the moment. Then he flicks the cigarette away and crushes it beneath his boot.
“Alright cowboy.”
He leans back against the wall again.
“We were never a couple.”
He pauses just long enough for Cooper to keep watching him. Then he adds casually, “But we did fuck now and then.”
The words settle in the alley between them. Cooper’s jaw tightens slightly. Not dramatically. But enough. Hancock notices immediately.
“Oh relax,” he says lightly. “It was a while ago.”
“That supposed to make me feel better?”
Hancock shrugs.
“Depends.”
“On what?”
“How serious you are about her.”
Cooper tilts his hat back slightly. The neon light catches the edge of his eyes.
“Still figuring that out.”
Hancock chuckles quietly.
“Yeah.”
He crosses his arms loosely.
“Same.”
The tension in the alley shifts slightly after that. Still there. And still sharp. But not quite the same. Hancock pushes off the wall.
Then Hancock glances back at him. A crooked grin slowly returns.
“Well,” he says.
“What?”
Hancock gestures lazily between the two of them.
“She does seem to have a thing for ghouls.”
For a moment Cooper just stares at him. Then he huffs out a quiet laugh.
“Yeah.”
He adjusts the brim of his hat slightly.
“Guess we’ve got that in common.”
Hancock chuckles.
“Well now that’s a hell of a bonding moment.”
“Wouldn’t go that far.”
“Fair.”
“Well cowboy,” he says.
“One thing’s clear.”
“What’s that?”
Hancock grins.
“She’s trouble.”
Cooper lets out a quiet laugh.
“Yeah.”
He pauses. Then adds quietly, “Worth it though.”
Hancock nods once.
“Oh I know.”
For a second the two ghouls just stand there, both looking down the alley toward the street. Then Hancock glances at him again.
“You jealous?”
Cooper doesn’t answer right away. Then he smirks faintly.
“Maybe.”
Hancock laughs.
“Well that makes two of us.”
And just as the tension between them settles into something dangerously mutual, your footsteps echo from the end of the alley.
Both men hear you coming before you actually appear.
The conversation between them dies immediately.
Hancock straightens slightly from where he’d been leaning against the wall, while Cooper adjusts the brim of his hat like nothing at all just happened.
You stop a few steps away and look between them.
They’re standing on opposite sides of the alley. Too quiet. Too still. Your eyes narrow slightly.
“…why do you two look like you just planned a murder?”
Hancock snorts.
“Relax, sunshine.”
Cooper shrugs casually.
“Just talking.”
You cross your arms.
”About what?”
Both of them answer at the same time.
“Nothing.”
You stare at them.
“…that’s reassuring.”
Hancock pushes himself off the wall, brushing a little dust from his coat.
“We were just getting acquainted.”
“That sounds dangerous.”
“It probably is.”
Cooper glances at you.
“Everything alright?”
“Yeah,” you say. “Just had to check something with one of the traders outside the gate.”
Hancock tilts his head slightly.
“You leaving already?”
“Not yet.”
The answer seems to satisfy him more than he expected.
“Good,” he says lightly. “Would’ve been rude if you came all this way just to disappear again.”
You raise an eyebrow.
“I didn’t know you were that attached.”
Hancock grins.
“Sunshine, you wound me.”
Beside you, Cooper lets out a quiet chuckle.
“You get used to it.”
Hancock glances toward him.
“Oh I’m starting to notice.”
You sigh quietly.
“Can we go back inside before this gets weird?”
Hancock laughs.
“Too late.”
The three of you step out of the alley and back toward the main street of Goodneighbor.
The neon lights flicker overhead while the familiar noise of the Third Rail spills out through the doorway.
As soon as you walk inside, Daisy looks up. Her eyes move from you… To Hancock… To Cooper… Then slowly back to you again. Her grin spreads immediately.
“Well well.”
You groan.
“Don’t.”
Daisy pours you another set of drinks, still watching the three of you with obvious amusement.
“So,” she says casually, sliding the glasses across the counter. “What’d I miss?”
“Nothing,” you say.
“Conversation,” Hancock says.
“Fresh air,” Cooper says.
Daisy raises an eyebrow.
“…mmhm.”
She leans forward slightly.
“Why do I feel like the tension in this room just doubled?”
“There is no tension.” Cooper says.
“None,” Hancock agrees.
You take a drink.
“Please ignore them.”
Daisy chuckles.
“Oh honey,” she says, leaning back behind the bar.
“I have no intention of ignoring this.”
Across the room a couple of locals are already whispering again. The three of you lean against the bar, glasses in hand. For a moment it’s quiet.
Then Hancock leans slightly closer to you.
“So tell me something, sunshine.”
“What?”
“You planning on sticking around Goodneighbor for a bit?”
Before you can answer, Cooper speaks.
“We might.”
Hancock glances toward him slowly.
“We?”
Cooper shrugs.
“Depends how helpful this town is.”
Hancock smirks.
“Oh I’m sure we can make it helpful.”
Your eyes move between them again.
“…why do I feel like I walked into something?”
Both men take a drink at the same time.
“Nothing,” they say again.
Daisy laughs loudly behind the bar.
And the entire Third Rail suddenly feels very interested in whatever happens next.
————
The Third Rail slowly starts emptying as the night drags on.
The music softens, the crowd thins, and the neon lights buzz lazily above the bar. A few locals remain scattered around the tables, nursing drinks while Daisy wipes down the counter like she has seen this exact situation unfold a hundred times before.
You stretch slightly on your bar stool.
“…I forgot how late Goodneighbor stays awake.”
Hancock chuckles.
“That’s the point.”
Cooper tilts his glass slightly, finishing the last of his drink.
“You planning on wandering back into the wasteland tonight?”
You glance toward the door for a moment. The Commonwealth beyond the gates is dark now.
“…probably not,” you admit.
Hancock immediately perks up.
“Well now,” he says casually. “Goodneighbor’s got plenty of places to stay.”
You look back at him.
“Hotels?”
“Rooms upstairs.”
Daisy snorts quietly behind the bar.
“They’re barely rooms.”
Hancock ignores her.
“You can stay here tonight,” he says, leaning slightly toward you. “Like back in the old days.”
The words hang there for a second. Just long enough. Cooper’s glowing eyes shift slowly toward him.You blink.
“Oh.”
Then you shrug.
“Thanks, but me and Cooper usually sleep best together.”
You say it so casually it almost passes unnoticed.
Cooper immediately turns his head slightly toward Hancock. The corner of his mouth lifts in quiet amusement.
“Yeah,” he says slowly.
“We do ‘sleep’ pretty good together.”
The way he says sleep carries a little extra weight. Just enough. Hancock catches it immediately. His eyebrow lifts.
He looks between the two of you.
“…is that so?”
You nod, completely oblivious.
“Yeah. The wasteland’s quieter when you’ve got someone watching your back.”
Cooper chuckles quietly beside you.
“Sure is.”
Hancock studies the two of you carefully. Then leans back slightly against the bar, crossing his arms.
“Well damn,” he mutters.
You glance at him.
“What?”
“Nothing.”
He takes another drink. But his glowing eyes linger on Cooper a second longer than necessary. Daisy suddenly laughs behind the bar.
“Oh this is getting good.”
You groan.
“Daisy.”
“What?”
“You’re making it weird.”
“Honey,” she says sweetly, “I didn’t make this weird.”
Hancock sighs and pushes himself away from the bar.
“Well,” he says, adjusting his coat. “Rooms are upstairs if you change your mind, sunshine.”
You nod.
“Thanks.”
He pauses for a moment. Then glances toward Cooper again. Cooper just tips his hat slightly. That small amused smirk still on his face. Hancock exhales slowly through his nose.
“…cowboy.”
“Mayor.”
The tension between them crackles quietly for a second. Then Hancock shakes his head and heads toward the stairs.
Daisy watches him go before leaning toward you.
“You really don’t notice it, do you?”
“Notice what?”
She grins.
“Nothing.”
Cooper stands and stretches slightly.
“Well darlin’,” he says. “Looks like we’ve got ourselves a room.”
You smile.
“Finally.”
As the two of you head toward the stairs, Daisy calls after you:
“Don’t break the furniture!”
You turn bright red immediately.
“What?!”
Cooper laughs quietly beside you. And somewhere behind you, Hancock definitely heard that.
——————-
The hallway upstairs is quieter than the bar below.
Most of the noise from the Third Rail stays downstairs, leaving only the faint hum of music and the occasional laugh drifting up through the floorboards.
You push the door open and step inside the small room. It’s simple.
A narrow bed, a small table, and a cracked window that lets the neon glow from outside spill across the walls.
You drop your bag beside the bed and stretch your shoulders.
“Finally.”
Cooper closes the door behind you with a soft click.
“Not the worst place we’ve stayed.”
“That’s not a high bar.”
He chuckles quietly.
You sit down on the edge of the mattress, pulling off your boots with a relieved sigh. For a moment neither of you says anything.
Then Cooper leans casually against the wall near the door, arms crossing loosely over his chest.
“You like that fella.”
You blink.
“…who?”
“Hancock.”
You look up at him.
“Oh.”
You shrug.
“He’s alright.”
Cooper tilts his head slightly.
“That so?”
“You heard him,” you say. “We know each other.”
“Yeah,” he says slowly. “I heard that part.”
There’s something in his voice that makes you pause. You glance at him.
“…what’s that supposed to mean?”
Cooper pushes himself off the wall and walks a few steps closer.
“He said you two were… close.”
You blink again.
“Oh.”
Then you shrug lightly.
“I guess.”
His eyes narrow slightly.
“That’s all you got to say about it?”
You look genuinely confused.
“What do you want me to say?”
He stops in front of you now. Close enough that you can see the faint amusement still lingering behind his expression. But there’s something else there too. Jealousy.
“You didn’t seem surprised.”
“I wasn’t.”
“You didn’t mention it before.”
“You didn’t ask.”
Cooper huffs out a quiet laugh.
“Fair.”
You lean back slightly on your hands, looking up at him.
“Why?”
He studies you for a second. Then shakes his head slightly.
“Just curious, sweetheart.”
You watch him carefully.
“…you’re jealous.”
“Am not.”
“You are.”
He tilts his hat back slightly.
“Maybe a little.”
That makes you smile faintly.
“Why?”
He steps closer again. Close enough now that his shadow falls across you where you sit on the bed.
“You really don’t know?”
You tilt your head.
“No.”
Cooper reaches out, resting one hand beside you on the mattress. His voice lowers slightly.
“Well,” he says quietly, “maybe I should remind you.”
Your breath catches just a little.
“Remind me of what?”
His hand brushes lightly against your arm.
“Who you’re traveling with.”
The touch is slow. You feel the warmth of it even through your sleeve. Your voice comes out softer now.
“Cooper…”
He leans down slightly, one hand lifting gently to your chin.
“Let me take care of you tonight, sweetheart.”
There’s a quiet confidence in his voice now. The kind that leaves very little room for argument.
You look up at him for a moment. Then smile.
“…you’re still jealous.”
He chuckles softly.
“Maybe.”
His thumb brushes lightly along your jaw.
“But I still plan on winning.”
The neon light flickers faintly across the room as he leans closer. And somewhere downstairs, Goodneighbor is still very much awake.
He steps closer, his hand trailing slowly up your back as he pulls you into him. You look up at him, already melting under his touch. His other hand comes up to cup your cheek, thumb brushing lightly against your skin as he closes the distance between you.
The kiss is warm and soft. Your arms slip around the back of his neck, drawing him closer, while his hand moves to the back of your head, gently deepening the kiss.
He pulls away. His gaze softer now. Though the certainty in it remains.
“I don’t like it when other people look at what’s mine,” he says.
You raise a brow at that. “You sure I’m yours?” you ask, a smirk tugging at your lips.
A low growl escapes him. “I’ll make you mine.”
He buries his face in your neck, kissing and sucking at your soft skin. You gasp, your hands gripping the collar of his coat.
His hands roam over your body, slipping beneath your shirt to cup your chest.
“Gosh… you’re too sexy for your own good, sweetheart.”
A small whine slips from your lips as your hands find their way to his belt.
“Cooper, please…” you plead.
His hand squeezes your ass while he keeps kissing along your skin.
“Please what, sweetheart?” he teases.
“Please give it to me. I want it” you breathe.
Cooper chuckles as he pulls away from your neck.
“Not yet, sweetheart,” he murmurs before pushing you back onto the bed. “I want to take my time.”
He raises the hem of your pants as he leans over you. His touch is driving you crazy. Fingertips tracing the clothed area of your body. Slowly feeling into every curve. You want more. You want to feel him.
“These are in the way,” he says.
Cooper drags your pants down to your ankles, pulling your panties down with them.
He looks down at your flushed face, completely exposed to him, and chuckles softly.
“You look so good like this, sweetheart.”
He lifts your legs over his shoulders, holding your gaze the entire time.
“Let’s see if you taste as sweet as you look.”
A shiver runs through you as he drags his tongue over you in one slow lick, a small gasp slipping from your lips.
He does it again, even slower this time.
“I’ll be damned, sweetheart,” he murmurs. “You’re a whole ass meal.”
Before you know it, he’s kissing and licking along your wet slit. His hands hold a firm grip around your thighs, making sure you stay right where he wants you.
You moan as his tongue begins tracing slow, circular motions over you. Not being to rough, but not to careful either.
“Ah!-Cooper!” You moan loudly as he inserts one digit into your tight hole, pumping it in and out slowly. He adds another finger. You moan even louder.
“Careful sweetheart” he purrs between licks. “Or other people will hear how good I’m treating you.”
You try to answer, but the slowly rising feeling in your lower stomach steals the words from you. The only sounds you manage are slurred breaths and soft moans you fail to hide.
His pace quickens as he ads a third finger into you, at the same time focusing his young on your puffy clit. Your hands grips the sheets. Your back aches. “Ah!- I’m gonna’, I’m gonna come Cooper!” You moan. You know the whole establishment probably have heard you know. But you don’t care. Neither does Cooper.
Cooper pulls away for just a second. “Come for me sweetheart. Let them hear who makes you feel this good.”. Then his on you again. His pace is quick. His tongue abusing your cunt. Your back aches even more as you reach your orgasm. Your whole body’s shaking as he helps you through it.
Cooper gets of you for just a bit. Hand resting on your stomach. You’re a panting mess. Sweaty. Face flustered red. Looking up at him. He smirks. “You doing alright sweetheart?”.
“Yeah.” You say between breaths, eyes half opened. “Good.” He responds. “Because i’m not done with you yet.”
His hands reach down to his own pants. Hands reaching down and unlocking the belt with ease. Still keeping eye contact with you. He pulls his cock out. It’s hard, swollen, some pre cum dripping from the tip.
He lines himself up at your entrance. “You ready sweetheart?” He askes. You smile up at him. Your hand slowly tracing his should up to his neck. “I always am.”
With one slow push he pushes his whole length into you. Making you moan in the progress. He groans as your thighs pussy embraces him.
He pulls his whole length out of you, then slowly slams it back into you. His pace is slow, controlled. At least from the start.
“Please Cooper, more.” You plead. That does something to him. Your words, they make him crazy. His hips start slamming into you faster this time. Pace quick as his hands find your hips, holding you still.
“You like this huh?” He growls. “You like when I fuck the shit out of you after “accidentally” making me jealous by introducing me to your little ex boyfriend?”
His thrust become harder, quicker as the thought of Hancock words previously in the alley. “We fucked from time to time.”. The statement stayed in Coopers head the rest of the evening. And now. He’s making sure you know who you belong too.
“Could Hancock fuck you this good sweetheart? Did he make you feel this good?” Cooper grunts. You, you’re a moaning mess under him. The snap of his hips against yours made it hard to focus. “N-no he coul-dn’t-“
“And who do you belong to darlin’?” He growls once again. You could feel him getting close. His pace became uneven and his thrust harder. “You-Ah! -Cooper! I belong to you!”
He smirks down at you. “Atta girl.” His grips tightens on your hips. He slams into you a few times more before he finally stops. He burries his dick in you. Filling you up in the process.
You both stay there for a while. Not saying a word. Just breathing. Cooper pulls out of you and tucks himself away. You’re still lying there, pants down, breathing heavily on the bed. Cooper bends down once more to kiss you, this time with more passion.
“Let’s get you cleaned up, sweetheart.”
For a moment the room is quiet.
The only sound is the faint buzz of the neon light outside the cracked window and the steady rhythm of your breathing as you lie back against the mattress.
Cooper stays close for a second after kissing you, his hand resting beside your head while he studies your face like he’s making sure you’re still there.
Then he chuckles softly under his breath.
“Well now,” he mutters.
You blink up at him, still catching your breath.
“What?”
He shakes his head slightly, the brim of his hat casting a shadow across his eyes.
“Nothing, sweetheart.”
You narrow your eyes at him.
“That didn’t sound like nothing.”
He pushes himself up from the bed, stretching his back slightly before grabbing the small rag and water basin sitting on the table beside the wall.
“Hold still.”
You groan quietly but don’t argue as he helps clean you up, his movements surprisingly careful. The rough wasteland hunter suddenly looks far more gentle than he did a few minutes ago.
“There,” he says after a moment. “Good as new.”
You watch him tuck the rag back onto the table before shrugging off his coat and hat, tossing them onto the chair beside the bed.
The room feels quieter now. Calmer.
Cooper sits back down on the mattress beside you, running a hand through his hair before letting out a quiet sigh.
“Hell of a night.”
You laugh softly.
“You started it.”
“Did I?”
“You absolutely did.”
He lies back beside you, the mattress dipping slightly under his weight.
For a moment the two of you just stare up at the ceiling while the faint glow from Goodneighbor’s lights flickers across the walls.
Then you shift closer without really thinking about it, resting your head against his shoulder.
Cooper glances down at you.
“…comfortable there, darlin’?”
“Very.”
He chuckles quietly, one arm moving automatically around your shoulders.
The warmth of him is familiar now. Safe in a strange way that the wasteland rarely allows.
For a while neither of you says anything. Your breathing slowly evens out. Cooper notices.
“You falling asleep on me?”
“Maybe.”
“That fast?”
“You wore me out.”
He laughs quietly at that.
“Careful,” he murmurs. “Someone might hear you.”
You smile against his shoulder.
“Let them.”
Outside, somewhere in Goodneighbor, someone shouts drunkenly and a bottle breaks. But inside the room it’s quiet.
Cooper glances down again when your breathing grows slower.
“…you’re actually asleep.”
He shakes his head slightly, a faint smile tugging at the corner of his mouth.
“Unbelievable.”
After a moment he pulls the thin blanket up over both of you and settles back into the mattress, one arm still loosely around you.
The last thing he mutters before drifting off himself is barely louder than a whisper.
Cooper Howard/the ghoul x reader! Driving a car for the first time
Fluff
Summary: When Cooper finds a working pre war car, he decides it’s the perfect time to teach you how to drive. It goes about as well as expected.
The road leading to the old facility is half buried in sand and weeds, the cracked asphalt barely visible beneath decades of neglect. Most places like this have already been stripped clean by scavengers, but sometimes, every once in a while, you find something people overlooked.
That’s why you’re here.
You step through the rusted chain link gate first, pushing it open with a squeal of metal that echoes across the empty lot. The place looks like it used to be some kind of pre-war storage base. Low concrete buildings sit in rows, their windows shattered and doors hanging crooked on broken hinges.
“Doesn’t look like much,” you mutter, scanning the area.
Behind you, Cooper walks in at an easy pace, hands resting near his belt like they always do. “That’s what people said about you too.”
You glance over your shoulder. “Wow. Charming.”
He tilts his head slightly, the corner of his mouth lifting faintly. “Yet here you are.”
You roll your eyes but keep moving toward the largest building. The inside smells like dust and old oil, the floor scattered with broken crates and empty shelves. You kick one of the boxes lightly with your boot.
“Looks like we’re not the first ones here.”
“Usually aren’t.”
You’re about to turn back toward the door when something catches your eye near the far wall.
“…wait.”
Cooper pauses behind you. You walk slowly toward the shape sitting beneath a thick layer of dust and debris.
A car. Not a rusted frame.
Not a collapsed skeleton of metal like most vehicles in the wasteland. An actual car.
The paint is faded and dull, but the body is still intact. The windows are cracked but mostly whole, and the tires, miraculously, haven’t collapsed into flat rubber pancakes like most ancient vehicles you’ve seen.
You circle it slowly.
“Wow,” you breathe. “It looks… well. Not destroyed.”
Cooper steps up beside you, brushing dust off the hood with his sleeve. The metal beneath the dirt gleams faintly.
“Yeah,” he says casually. “Used to drive one of these back in the day.”
You stop walking and stare at him.
“No way, old man.”
He snorts quietly. “What, you think I walked everywhere?”
“I mean… yeah.”
You glance back at the car again, running your fingers along the door. “People actually drove these things?”
“Everywhere.”
“That’s insane.”
Cooper pulls the driver’s side door open with a creak of old hinges and leans inside. For a moment he just looks around, like he’s stepping into a memory.
Then his brow lifts slightly.
“Well I’ll be damned.”
“What?”
He reaches down near the floor and taps the fuel gauge.
“Still got gas.”
You blink.
“…you’re joking.”
“Wish I was.”
Before you can even process what he’s saying, he slides into the driver’s seat and turns the key.
The engine coughs. Once. Twice. Then suddenly the entire car roars to life with a deep rumble.
You jump backward so fast you nearly trip over a broken crate.
“Holy—!”
The engine continues to growl beneath the hood. You stare at the car like it’s a living creature.
“You scared?” Cooper calls from the driver’s seat, clearly enjoying himself.
“I have never seen a car actually work!”
He leans back in the seat like he’s right at home.
“Well,” he says smugly, “guess it’s time for us to take a drive.”
You hesitate. The idea feels ridiculous. And amazing. And slightly terrifying.
“…you’re serious.”
He reaches across and pushes the passenger door open.
“Get in.”
You approach the car slowly, still eyeing it like it might explode. When you finally slide into the passenger seat, the engine vibrates beneath your feet.
“This is insane,” you mutter.
Cooper just chuckles and presses the pedal lightly. The car rolls forward. Your eyes widen.
“Oh my god.”
The wind slips through the cracked windows as the vehicle moves across the dusty lot. It’s not fast, not by old world standards, probably, but compared to walking through the wasteland, it feels unreal.
You grip the dashboard.
“This is amazing.”
Cooper glances over with a small grin.
“Cute,” he murmurs.
You glance at him.
“What?”
“You look excited.”
“I am excited!”
He laughs quietly.
You steal another glance at him as he drives. The way he handles the wheel is smooth, confident, like he’s done it a thousand times before.
Which… he probably has. Something about it is weirdly attractive. You notice. And he notices you noticing.
“What?” he asks.
“Nothing.”
He raises an eyebrow.
“Mm hm.”
After a few minutes he slows the car and brings it to a stop in the open lot. You blink.
“…why are we stopping?”
He shifts in his seat and looks at you.
“Well sweetheart,” he says casually, “now it’s your turn.”
You stare at him.
“…what.”
“Your turn.”
“I don’t know how to drive a car!”
“You’re about to.”
You shake your head immediately. “Nope. Absolutely not.”
He chuckles. “What, you scared?”
“What if I break it?”
He shrugs. “Well darlin’, it’s gonna break sooner or later.”
“That is not reassuring!”
He gestures toward the driver’s seat. “C’mon.”
You hesitate. Then slowly climb over the middle console into the driver’s seat while he shifts into the passenger side. You grip the wheel nervously.
“This feels illegal.”
“Relax.”
“How?”
“Put your foot there,” he says, tapping the pedal lightly. You try. The car jerks forward violently.
“AH!”
“Easy!” he laughs.
“I’m trying!”
The vehicle lurches across the lot in a crooked line while you desperately try to control it.
“Why is it doing that?!”
“You’re stomping the pedal!”
“I’m nervous!”
He reaches over and steadies the wheel with one hand while you figure it out.
“Alright,” he says calmly. “Slow and steady.”
You manage to move the car forward without jerking this time.
“Hey,” you say, surprised. “I’m doing it.”
“You’re doing something.”
You glare at him. He grins. After a few wobbly circles around the lot, you finally stop the car again. Your heart is racing.
“That was terrifying.”
He laughs softly.
“That was adorable.”
You shove his shoulder lightly. “Don’t call me adorable.”
“Too late, sweetheart.”
You both step out of the car a moment later. The wind moves softly through the empty lot again, the car sitting quietly behind you. You glance back at it once more.
“That was… actually really cool.”
Cooper nods.
“Yeah,” he says.
Then he looks down at you, the faintest smirk returning.
“Not bad for your first drive, darlin’.”
You smile.
“Next time,” you say, “I’m driving longer.”
He chuckles.
“We’ll see about that.”
And together you head back toward the wasteland road, leaving the quiet old car behind.
