Fallout of the Heart

Chapter Nineteen

Dealing with the Railroad was just as menial and tedious as I had expected, especially since the first thing they did was send me on some fetch quest with the fucking bastard who'd been following me around the wasteland like a lovelorn creepy puppy. The fact that I needed their intel was the only thing that kept me fucking civil, though it was a close thing indeed. The way Hancock kept staring holes in Deacon's head every time he talked, I had to fight back the giggles at the mental image of that shitty pompadour wig bursting into flames.

"Just say the word sweetheart, and I'll wax that motherfucker for you and make it look like an accident." Hancock whispered in my ear as we followed Deacon to the underground entrance to their old HQ. I snorted just a little, then shot him a look.

"Put it on ice for now, Captain Kangaroo. He's greasy enough as it is." I retorted, earning myself a wicked chuckle as we plowed through synths and turrets. I didn't want to say anything out loud, but Deacon's comment about synth bird spies stuck with me as we worked our way through the underground and up into the switchboard. I already had the feeling that I couldn't trust almost anything that came out of his mouth, but on the other hand that would explain and bridge a whole lot of loose shit that'd been rattling around in my brain. If it was true – I shuddered, grateful that Hancock was too busy watching Deacon to see my turmoil.

Hancock's sarcastic take on Deacon's tale of the origin of the switchboard made my heart hurt just a little bit – I hadn't thought I could fall any further for the charismatic bastard, but here we were. While he took a second to read some old terminal entries and I was doing my usual looting dance, Deacon sidled up to me and spoke in my ear, quietly for him, but not quietly enough for Hancock's sharp ears, I knew. "So, you and the ghoul... Would I be looking at competition there?" He asked, and I turned to nail him with my thousand-yard stare.

"Oh, what's the matter, Deacon? Hancock's little show with Finn scare you enough that you can't talk to him straight yourself?" I asked, catching Hancock's head duck out of the corner of my eye as I watched a myriad of expressions flit across Deacon's face. I knew my answer absolutely did not begin to touch what he was actually asking, but I also knew he wasn't asking me because he wanted to become my partner in athletic snuggling. After a moment a look of wary chagrin settled across Deacon's face, and he turned away with a sigh. Hancock turned to me and pointed discreetly to the gun on his hip. I looked at the back of Deacon's head, exaggerated a silent sigh, then shook my head. After a second Hancock nodded to the side, and I looked upwards and nodded in response. Time to clear out the rest of the place.

"Having fun, cupcake?" Hancock whispered in the shell of my ear, as Deacon had hell fiddling with the terminal that opened the blast doors where the prototype was located.

"With your permission, remember? Besides, we might need him, but I trust him about as far as Mama Murphy can throw him." I replied, my hand resting on his waist as my lips brushed his ear in turn. The wicked look he gave me sent a thrill through me, and this time we were so close I'm pretty sure he felt it. Deacon chose that moment to get the fucking door open however, and our little moment was broken.

Once we were outside and Deacon had already split off, Hancock stepped beside me to look at the pistol I had been given. "That's an old-world 10mm?" He asked, and I nodded. "Well, now I get the comment about the size." He remarked, and I smirked. Despite the work I'd done on the 10mm I'd been carrying around with me since the vault, Deliverer ended up being a much better weapon after just a little bit of tinkering. Still, I didn't want to part with the trusty little sidearm, so I gave it to Hancock. "Are you sure?" He asked, and I nodded.

"You'll have to scrounge your own 10mm though, I'm keeping my stash." I responded with a grin, and he shook his head with a laugh. Actually helping a synth get to a safehouse shook both of us just a little, but the rest of the missions I picked up before I had full access to their data were run of the mill fetch quests or dropping off recon gear. After a while, even Hancock started sighing audibly, but once I got the data loaded into my pip-boy – which took four trips, it was a lot – I mentioned that we both were run a little ragged and we needed to take a break and check on some settlements and shit, since I was also running the Minutemen.