since the kings exist in the mojave, it's not a stretch to imagine a gang of dolly parton impersonators holed up in the wreckage of dollywood calling themselves the queens
Summary: Right when he can't afford any more trouble, Cooper Howard dives into headfirst.
Series Masterlist
Introduction | Previous Chapter | Next Chapter (New!)
Word Count: 4763
Notes: Like 80% beta read but I'm falling asleep here so it's just going up as is. This chapter is a little shorter but we're kicking into gear don't worry just trust.
Chapter tags: Mentions of sex, drinking, canon-typical mentions of death on corporate level?(How do I even flag that?), cheating, the slow realization of feelings but no one is talking about it or even letting themselves think about it fully.
· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·
Cooper had stayed on that patio sofa the rest of the afternoon. Your body on top of his, your head against his chest as you drifted into a sun-bathed and sex-exhausted nap.
Maybe it was because he was still in your company, your soft breath fanning over his skin and one arm reaching lazily over his shoulder, but that gut-churning sense of guilt— one that was deserved but still unwanted — was kept at bay. He sat there, staring out over Beverly Hills, mindlessly brushing your hair with his fingers until he’d broken down the pomade and hairspray casting your curls.
Cooper desperately wanted to peek into your mind and get an idea of what you felt about this. You clearly weren’t too concerned about Mike. Or if you were, you did a great job making it seem the opposite. He entertained the idea that it was because you had other interests, but that was mostly to flatter himself while already reveling in the afterglow of your afternoon together.
He wasn’t sure whether the studio was manufacturing the whole thing or if you were simply letting it happen. That first date had been genuine, you’d said so yourself. But then the studio got their hands on it and he couldn’t quite gauge what you felt. Saddling yourself into some fling for the sake of PR with a man you couldn’t be bothered with didn’t seem like you. But a contract and a paycheck had a way of making even you compliant.
He’d be lying if he said he didn’t feel a little bad for Mike. He was a good guy, at least that’s what he’d gathered from what time he’d spent around the man. But it didn’t seem like he wanted to wine, dine and wed you. Not that Cooper planned on it either, but this was different. More than anything, you have been a friend to him. Right when he had found himself the most alone in a world that was caving in around him.
It surprised him how determinedly hopeful you were about everything going on. You were so pragmatic about everything else, he’d half expected you to say you had spots in a few different vaults around the country. But the topic seemed to have set you off, you were dead set on believing that everything would be okay.
Part of him had wanted to tell you, shake some sense into you so that maybe you’d try to find safety somewhere before the sky fell, but he knew a lot of those vaults were just as bad as being stuck out there. He wasn’t sure which was worse: the idea of you being trapped outside while the world gets leveled, or you locked in a vault to be poked and prodded at like a guinea pig by the curiously sadistic mind of some executive.
He thought maybe Barb could pull a few strings, get you into one of the “good vaults”, as she called them. He almost laughed aloud at the idea. How would he explain that? He hadn’t even talked to her about getting a spot for Charlie, why would he be trying to get shelter for a woman he’s worked with once? He figured she had to be somewhat suspicious by now. The pretending he didn’t know, acting like everything was fine, that was one thing. That was a reaction to her secrets. Now, Cooper was keeping his own.
His secrets were the result of a stupid decision in a moment of weakness. At least they were the first time, and that should’ve been the only time. But he didn’t leave it at that. He’d been the one to seek you out again, he’d called you — literally — and brought you back into his life.
Maybe he should be mad at you. You knew he was married, had some semblance of the burdens he carried, and you still weaseled your way in. He rolled the notion around in his mind, but it couldn’t find a place to land. If it did, he hadn’t realized it yet.
He debated waking you up and having that long overdue conversation—nipping this in the bud—but even the virtuous part of him didn’t want to. He looked down to where you were laid on his chest, admiring the serene look of your features as you rested. You had crafted this persona that was high-maintenance, of course, but effortless and easy going. It wasn’t until he saw you in a state of genuine comfortability he realized just how well a performer you were.
You talked, God knows you talked, but so much of that was just surface-level gabbing. It made Cooper appreciate those moments where you spoke honestly with him all the more. Lamenting about your father, reminiscing about your time back East but too stubborn to go back apart from contractual obligation. The sensible and pessimistic but still vaguely immature way you looked at the world. The seemingly endless list of extracurriculars and past times that had occupied your youth that translated now to spontaneous trivia and hobbies you tried to squeeze into whatever free time you had.
Cooper had in his mind a picture of you, but every time some new manicured layer of you was peeled back, it didn’t disrupt it, just added a part that only made sense at another glance.
He stayed like that while longer, basking in your silent presence. But he knew he couldn’t linger in an idea forever. He gently pushed at your shoulder until he felt your breathing change against his skin, you shifted against him, curling into yourself as much as his body would allow yours. He smiled softly at the physical protest, moving the hand that was in your hair to rub your cheek.
“No, c’mon,” he said quietly, but he knew you heard him from the huff you’d responded with. “Let’s get you inside.” He worked to sit up, and you finally opened your eyes, stretching with a hum. You sat up in turn, allowing Cooper to finally stand.
He picked his shirt up from off the floor, offering it to you with an extended arm. You took it with a tired ‘thank you’ and a yawn. You pulled it over your head, the knit fabric probably would have messed up your hair if he hadn’t done so already. He picked up the rest of his clothes; folding your dress and draping it over his arm.
“Do you mind if I use your shower?”
You got him set up in your guest bathroom, setting out some clean towels for him before shuffling off to your own ensuite. The bathroom was clean, impeccably so. He figured you must pay for help or have some kind of Mr. Handy stashed somewhere he didn’t see. But as he folded his clothes on the counter, he noticed a thin veneer of dust on the surface. Not a lot, but enough that showed in disuse of the space. His mind drifted back to the bar cart; the vodka, a bottle of cherry brandy and some mixers were the only ones with a considerable amount missing from the bottles. You seemed anxious and fidgety about having him over, being a good hostess.He supposed there was a level of intimacy just in his being here. He smiled softly to himself as he undid the leather of his watch; the stage you had been the most uncomfortable to perform on was your own home.
Cooper didn’t linger in the shower. Made sure he was clean enough to be void of any suspicions when he came home. When he got out, you were nowhere to be seen, however the sound of running water let him assume you were still washing the affair off your skin. He looked at his watch face, knowing he wanted to leave soon, but he didn’t want to leave without the formalities.
He wasn’t snooping, just taking it in, he told himself. Your kitchen was tidy, and he was surprised it was fit with many of the same appliances he had back home. Only your space was a soft aqua instead of the butter yellow that had become an eyesore.
The space was relatively open, and the kitchen was only divided from the living room by a half-wall. It was feminine, the whole condo had the distinct and warm touch of a woman; but the living room had delicate details of soft pink accenting a richer green. He was drawn to a round tiered side table next to a plush arm chair. On top was a lamp but on the lower level were a few different framed photographs.
He picked one up, the silver frame polished and unblemished. It was a photo of you and another girl. He figured the photo was older, your hair was a little longer, less stylish but not unflattering. You were wearing what looked like a school uniform and cat eye glasses. You were next to a few other girls in the same uniform, all of you smiling delicately but you managed to anchor the photo.
He set it down, intent on picking up another in the array but noticed a woven beach bag tipped on its side between the small table and the side of the couch; its paper contents spilling out. He pushed the papers back on and picked up the bag, squeezing it out from the slim space.
Something told him that the bag had been where it was for a reason, and god knows his curiosity had already burnt him enough. But he still felt compelled to rifle through, at least until he heard your water shut off. Besides, what could you possibly have to hide besides a waist nipper?
The first one he pulled out was a newspaper. It was an issue of the Boston Bugle from May of 2072. ‘GALACTIC ZONE OPENS AT NUKA-WORLD’ Read the headline. Below was a photo of the opening ceremony, men in suits stood in front of a ribbon, and a woman dressed as Nuka Girl holding an oversized pair of scissors. ‘Nuka-Cola CEO John-Caleb Bradberton hosts the ceremony, along with Giles Wolstencroft, assistant CEO of Vault-Tec, and RobCo founder Robert House.’ He read the caption and scanned over the paper, trying to figure out why you would save it, let alone stash it like you had? He had heard it was some big collaboration between the companies back when it first opened. He remembered it from when he and Barb had taken Janey to Nuka-World a few years back.
Throughout the rest of the article, there were photos of people enjoying the park, a lot of kids running around with pretend blasters and bottles of soda. There was one that stuck out to him, another photo of Bradberton posing with a man he didn’t recognize but had a good idea as to who it was; tall and slim with a well-tailored suit and horn-rimmed glasses. He smiled proudly, and his hair was pushed back with so much product that the camera nearly picked up the sheen of the pomade. Next to the two men was a more familiar face — yours — a little older than the first photo and a few years younger than the woman he knew today. Compared to the earlier photo, you had started to inch closer to that perfected persona you wore today; your hair was more fashionably styled, you had ditched the glasses, and traded the school uniform for a wiggle skirt and blouse. Not as form fitting as what you usually wear, but formal enough for the occasion this had been. He figured by then you must have been in your late teens or maybe teetering into your twenties, but you held yourself well beyond your years.
The newspaper underneath that was more recent, only from a few months ago. Before he even got to read the headline, he noticed a note on top of it. ‘Hey kid, here’s those articles you called about. I was able to talk to that medic some more, too. Recording for that’s gonna be in with those tapes of Silver Shroud Marcie’s sending your way. Don’t be a stranger, I know they’ve got phones out there.’ There was no signature on the note, granted it wasn’t for him to know. He lifted the note to read the headline of the article. ’NUKA-WORLD TECHNICIAN FATALLY SHOT BY “BATTLEZONE” ROBOT.’ Beneath that, another two, ‘NUKA-WORLD INJURIES REACH THE DOZENS: RESULT OF DECLINING PARK MAINTENANCE’ and ‘NUKA-WORLD INJURY COUNT NEARS 100 WEEKS AFTER SECOND EMPLOYEE DEATH’. They were written only two months apart.
Cooper didn’t spend too long reading the articles, just skimming for anything that could pertain more to him. As he returned them to the bag, another paper caught his attention. It had Nuka’s letterhead and was addressed for your father:
Absolutely loved the "Nuka Condolences" Fruit and Cheese Baskets you sent out to the families of our early prototype Quantum flavor testers. Great idea. I think I loved the fine print of the health damage waiver you had them sign before they joined up even more.
There was more to the letter, but Cooper heard the water shut off. He tucked the papers back into the bag and returned it to its haphazard spot between the furniture.
He felt almost indifferent reading the letter and the varying headlines. Maybe a few months ago it would have unsettled him, but amid everything else, bureaucratic negligence seemed unremarkable. It did put some insight into some earlier conversations. ‘Unsavory corporate bullshit’ you’d said. Here he thought the exhausting life of modeling was beginning to take its toll on you.
By the time you had made your way out, Cooper was looking through the large media shelf next to your television. He heard your slippered footfall and turned to look at you.
“Snooping?” You asked playfully. Cooper looked at you with a light smile. However, his response was lost on the tip of his tongue as he took in your appearance. You weren’t in anything spectacular; a silken pink robe and slippers in the same color. You must have put your hair up before your shower as it stayed mostly dry, but your face was clean of any cosmetics. He realized while he had seen you naked, he had never seen you bare.
You must have noticed his staring, and you gave an awkward smile. “Sorry, I just…I didn’t think to-“
“No, no it’s fine. You’re fine.” He interrupted with a placating face. It seemed to ease whatever insecurity from you and you straightened up.
“Well, good.” You said. “It’d be silly to do all that cleaning just to cake my face again.” You finished, walking into the living room.
“Sweetheart, I think we both know you don’t need it.” He said, putting his hand on your waist. You rolled your eyes in return and shrugged off the compliment.
“You headed out?” You asked, saving Cooper the awkward first step of the dance of departure.
“Mhmm,” he hummed, pulling you closer to him. “You know.” Was all he said. You nodded; he knew you didn’t need more than that. Despite the unsaid, he found himself smiling down at you. Your face still red from your shower and your eyes meeting his with a silent understanding. He lifted your head, his lips meeting yours in a kiss that promised more, just not right now.
“Take care.” He said, finishing the goodbye with your name as he stepped away.
“You too, Coop.” You said, your feet were anchored to the plush carpet as the door closed behind him.
· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·
“You always find a way to do this,” you recited. Cooper's arm was around your waist, fixing you against him and your feet on top of chalk marks on the floor.
“Save that hide of yours whenever you manage to get it into trouble?” He said in turn.
“No,” you answered, your eyes scanning his face. “Put me in positions where I need saving.”
“Then stop coming back, Margaret.”
You pulled yourself out of his hold with a huff, turning your back to him and taking a few practiced paces away from him.
“If it were only that easy.” You said, opening your clutch and taking out a handkerchief, it was the only thing in there. You mimed patting your under eye with the cloth, being mindful as to not actually touch the skin.
“Then stay. Leave, stay, do whatever it is you do. God knows whatever choice you make you’ll change your mind by the next full moon.”
You shook your head with a soft, incredulous laugh. You turned around again to look at him.
“Goodness, Raymond, you know I want to stay.” You delivered bitterly but there was a vulnerability to the words. “But should I stay here with you…for you, who’s to say you’ll do the same for me?
“You’re a mobile man, I’d be a fool not to see it — and not just in the company you keep. You’ve never stayed in one place for too long and the damn fool I am, part of me likes the chase. But it’s not sustainable, I can’t keep—my heart can’t keep up with this.”
Cooper had taken measured steps toward you during your delivery, now standing atop marked spots a few feet away from you.
“If I could have you, Margaret, I would stop the world to stay.” He said.
You looked at him defensively, not believing him despite so desperately wanting to. You shook your head, looking away from him, but he reached out a hand to guide you back.
“Please,” he begged softly. “You don’t have to stay forever, but for your own sake — until this is all over — stay here, stay with me. You know I’ll keep you safe.” His hand moved to the back of your neck, careful to make sure his arm was not blocking your face from the view of any of the cameras.
“And when it is all over?” You asked
He looked down at you for a moment, then with a hand supporting your lower back, he leaned down to kiss you. After three beats, he pulled away. In the movement, your own hand had found his chest, and remained there even after he pulled away.
“Cut!” Rich’s voice boomed over the set, and you took a careful step away from Cooper. When the flock of makeup artists stayed rooted to their spots, you looked over at the director, using a hand to block the bright lights from your eyes.
“Is that it?” You asked, squinting in Rich’s direction.
“Yeah, we’ll call it a night, toots.” He barked back before turning his attention to a P.A..
“Only took fifteen fucking takes.” You said under your breath to Cooper, who smiled in return.
After leaving your wig with makeup and replacing your costume with a robe, you walked in stride with Cooper back towards the trailers; navigating through bustling P.A.s and crew members. Maybe that afternoon on your balcony had been an unspoken deciding moment as since then, you lingered in each other’s company as often as possible.
“We’re only set for another month or so.” You noted, pushing open Cooper’s trailer door before him. There was a period where the two of you were more mindful of being seen together, but you’d made a point of saying ‘it’s more suspicious to act suspicious’ and Cooper had listened. The two of you would share company before, what’s the difference to the eyes of everyone else.
“I’d be surprised if it took us that long.” Cooper replied, closing the door behind him. “They’re making short work of it.”
“It’s too bad, really.” You sighed, getting yourself comfortable on his couch. “I was excited to get to do something like this. I’ve always loved the noirs and thrillers.”
“Really?” He asked, raising a brow as he found a bottle.
“What?” You half-snorted. “You thought I was in my element doing shit like ‘Invasion of the Robotic Man’? I was hoping this would get me out of B movie hell.”
“It’s a step up.” Cooper shrugged, setting the glasses down on the coffee table. “Just the nature of the beast these days. People don’t want it done well, they want it done Tuesday.”
You gave a passive roll of your shoulder, reaching out to grab the glass. “I thought you were the one championing for my optimism.”He chuckled dryly, sitting down next to you.
“Then tell me, Miss Mansfield, what do you want to be doing?” He asked, facing you. You rolled your eyes, the teasing not lost on you, but you answered anyway.
“I don’t know, I’ve always liked the Hitchcock films.”
His brow raised again, and then shrugged as if remembering your earlier remark. “You’ve got the look. About a hundred years too late though, sweetheart.”
“I know that.” You shot back with a look. “But people are still out there trying to do the same thing.”
“People can try, but some things can’t be replicated.” He said, taking a sip from the glass. You considered it in a pause, then shrugged with a quick sigh. You reached out for his wrist, checking the time on his watch.
“You got somewhere to be?” He asked in an amused tone.
“Mike’s taking me to the fucking Marmont.” You said, leaning back against the couch with a groan.
“Oh, you poor thing.” Cooper replied sarcastically. You rolled your eyes, giving him another look. He sighed. “I know.” He conceded.
“He’s fine. It’s just—we both feel shoehorned into this I think. Me more than him, but…”You shrugged, taking a sip from your drink, wincing as the liquor burned your throat. “I don’t know, I mean I feel bad, I can’t keep promising the dog dinner and giving him an empty bowl.”Cooper gave you a surprised face.
“Jesus, Mansfield, you’re torturing the man.”
“I’m being a lady.” You defended.
“Now you’re being a liar.”
You let out a breath. “It’s nothing wrong with him, really.“
“Well, dinner at the Chateau Marmont, you might have to get over it.”
You gave him another look, and there was no humor to be found in either of your gazes, only that solemn understanding that made itself known when needed. The presence of the world around you that neither of you could ever completely shed.
“I suppose that would require a decent amount of getting ready.” You said with a sigh, looking at your drink that would likely have to go unfinished.
“It should,” Cooper agreed. “When do you need to be there?”
“He said he’ll pick me up at a quarter after seven.”
“Then you really need to get that little ass of yours in gear, sweetheart. We both know you take your time getting ready.”
You smiled softly, looking back up to him. “They could have held our reservation a little longer. It was the first seating.”
“We were twenty minutes late.” He replied. You shook your head with a lighthearted sigh, leaning forward to return your glass to the table. You stood up, fixing your robe, and Cooper wasn’t far behind you.
“Hold on,” he said, moving to a counter top by the door and grabbing a paper bag. He brought them over to you, and you took the bag. Unfolding the top and peering inside. “My agent took his wife to Boston last week, asked him for a favor.” He explained as you pulled out one of the tapes from the bag.
You adjusted your hold on the bag so you could read the writing on the side of the cassette, it was a recording of a Silver Shroud episode from a few weeks back. You dug out another tape and it was the following weeks’.
“You didn’t…?” You looked up at him with a wide smile, returning the tapes to the bag.
“I didn’t, Bruce did.” He answered. You rolled your eyes but the smile didn’t leave your face.
“Well, tell Bruce I said thank you.” You said as you set the bag on the floor, bending down to rummage through its contents like a kid on Christmas. Cooper watched you with a soft gaze, relishing in how your face had lit up like it had been hit by the sun.
“Oh, these are great,” you gushed as you picked up tapes, checked the dates and returned them to the bag. “One less thing for me to do next week.”
“What’s next week?” He asked casually, shifting his head.
“Some stuff to do back home.” You answered passively, folding the top of the bag before standing up straight again. “Get dressed up and take pictures at the park, probably. Shouldn’t take too long. Hoping there’s some time for me to go down to the Cape.”
Cooper put a hand on the small of your back as you straightened up, despite both of you knowing you didn’t need the help. “You going by yourself?” He asked. You shrugged, then after a moment you lifted your head to look at him better, narrowing your eyes as if to examine him.
“Why?” You asked, and it was his turn to shrug.
“Just curious.”
You raised a skeptical brow but smiled faintly. “You need to work on your lying.” You said. When he didn’t respond, you continued. “I’m catching a flight Thursday.”
He nodded noncommittally, as if just cataloging the information. There was another beat of silence. You looked down again to the paper bag in your hands; the sight of it making you feel warm in a way you couldn’t quite name. You had half the mind to call Mike and cancel dinner, but obligation kept you tethered in reality.
“These are…thank you, Coop, really.” You said, gesturing to the bag with another earnest smile.
“It’s nothing.” He said, his hand finding the small of your back again as he kissed the side of your face. “Might keep you busy for an afternoon and out of my hair.” He pulled back with a wink. You rolled your eyes, and pecked him, this time on the lips. You reached back to put a hand on top of his arm, your thumb running on top of the skin in a cradling motion before you moved his hold off of you and stepped away.
“I’ll see you around.” You said with your stuff gathered and heading towards the door.
Cooper watched as it closed behind you, letting out a heavy breath once it was shut and you were gone. He found one of the remaining glasses, and nursed what was left of its contents as he settled on the edge of the couch, resting his elbows on his thighs. He finished off the burning liquor and set the glass down, running the now empty hand over his face.
· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·
You got home from dinner late. Though, you’d expected that. You’d done the right thing by Mike, and afterwards he’d done the right thing and offered you his place — and continued company — for the night. You declined, said something about having to be up early.
Part of you felt bad, Mike was a good guy. He was respectful, and knew how to treat a girl to dinner and the rest of the night. You liked him, you liked his company, but it felt like looking at a finished painting that was missing a piece right in the center.
You’d seen some paparazzi snap photos of the two of you leaving the restaurant. You wondered if Crest or OEI had paid for them. Maybe there were some there for each. You just hoped you’d look good when you saw yourself on the cover of Confidential tomorrow.
You shed yourself of your clothes, wrapping yourself in a robe. While the tub filled, you dragged a stool and your tape player into your ensuite. With another trip, you brought in the earliest dated tape you’d gotten from Cooper, popping it into the player before slipping into the bath.
You leaned your head back against the edge of the tub with a heavy sigh, decompressing from the day and trying to pay attention to the recorded voices echoing against your bathroom walls. Maybe you were just tired, but you found yourself not paying any attention to the tape. Getting lost in your own head — but unwilling to place your thoughts — as you washed the night off your skin.
Fallout comparisons are stupid because I just started playing Fallout 3 for the first time last night and we as a fandom do not appreciate how each game did their own unique thing with the ambiance and environment.
Fallout 4 is a fish out of water damn near odyssey action movie where most of the main plot can be summarized by Epic the Musical. The mechanics are action based and fun to utilize, and the overall narrative of the story works better when you’ve already befriended most of the companions because almost all of the companion storylines are about not giving up on them or staying true to being who they are: good people. Which works narratively when you are given the choice to give up your humanity for your son, or give up your son for humanity.
Fallout New Vegas is a goofy ass western where your main motivation is to get back at a guy for shooting you in the head, but then somewhere along the way you get wrapped up in a surprisingly insightful commentary on the two party political system where there’s obviously a cartoonishly evil guy and you’d think picking the lesser of two evils would help, but even when the lesser of two evils means well AT BEST, they still fail the lower class everyday people living in the Mojave and the soldiers they send to die for them, all to serve what is at best the obliviousness of the bosses in Shady Sands and at worst the GREED of the bosses in Shady Sands
I haven’t gotten through much of Fallout 3 but I can already tell that this is a HORROR MOVIE. Your character starts off born and raised in a safe environment and you are forced out of it suddenly and without real warning. When you leave the vault everything around you looks dead, and the only radio to comfort you is Enclave (fascist) propaganda that is specifically written to make you feel unsafe by labeling various groups as monsters. The environmental design is so good that you immediately understand where you need to go because you’re pointed in that direction by a path and some signs. But when you’re pointed away from the safety of that rundown city with a bomb in the center of it, the game directs you to a tunnel with giant rats, like 10 ghouls, and you’re very likely to run out of ammo or weapons entirely. And when you run to the end of the tunnel thinking you’re safe because you’re in a new area, you see the SHADOW of a super mutant up ahead. That’s fucking HORROR GAME design (although the level scaling was kind of off because how is someone at level 2 supposed to take on that much?).
I think the fallout fandom focusses way too much on glazing the games we played as kids and going “this is what the series as a whole is SUPPOSED to look like” when just 3 games all did something drastically different and unique. Each game has their own flaws. I have yet to kill anyone with VATS in fallout 3 without launching them into space. So much of New Vegas’ environment is “this is a desert so there’s nothing here and when there is something here there’s a 50/50 chance it’s just gonna be a boarded up building that you can’t access.” Fallout 4’s main story is boring if you don’t take the companions into context, and they arguably should’ve leaned more into making Nate and Nora their own characters than this weird middle ground where they aren’t quite you and they aren’t quite them. But, so far, I’d say each game has something they EXCEL at. Fallout 3 has amazing environmental design. New Vegas has brilliant storytelling and character writing. 4’s gameplay is the best I’ve seen in the whole series and is one of the most REWARDING to play.
We as a fandom need to focus more on actually enjoying the series we love so much, because there’s a lot to enjoy.
