Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

“Uh, hey, Pipes..?” 

She smiled up at her lover from where she'd been repairing a small hole in her favourite coat. He was a beautiful little thing; a few years younger than her, buff in all the right places, sun-kissed with freckles framing his dark green eyes, and ginger hair that fell in waves to his shoulders. He still had that young coltish look that not many people hung onto nowadays but that could've just been a holdover from when and how he was raised.
She'd hit the jackpot with him; gorgeous, funny, kinda shy. Not to mention that this man was currently the General of the Minutemen and had wiped out the Commonwealth’s bogeymen not five weeks ago. It had been rough on him, he'd been distant and mopey, but he was bouncing back as time went on, as they all did.

“Hey, Blue,” she stood to step into his usual waiting embrace. When it didn't come, she shrugged it off, “so, ready for that interview?” She wanted him to tell her everything that had happened in the Institute so that she could inform the people. She hadn't gone along for the fight, Blue saying that Nat would be alone if the worst happened, so he'd taken MacCready and Hancock along instead. The logic didn't fully track with her with Mac's son literally scream laughing across the street with the other kids and Hancock having a whole town plus Fahrenheit to look after, but she let it slide. He'd talk about it with her all in due time.

He awkwardly scratched the back of his neck. It was so endearing, he still had the awkward I-don’t-know-how-to-talk-to-people vibe that most people left behind in the dust the first time they set foot outside their house nowadays, “No, listen. I really need to talk to you…in private.”

“Ooo,” she popped her gum between her teeth with a wink, “in private, is it?”

“Um. Yeah.”

She laughed and grabbed his hand to lead the way. It was fun, most of the time, teaching this young man how to be in bed. He had a son, yes and that fact sometimes blew her mind because how?, but he was so beautifully hesitant and awkward when naked it was almost funny. Mostly it was just cute. His fingers would skim her skin as though he were afraid of breaking her and his eyes would squeeze shut in absolute concentration when he was inside her. As though he were solely focused on wringing out an orgasm from her or learning some new way to make her squeal. He'd told her that he just never had much practice before the bombs and that his wife got up the duff the first try. So, it made her exceptionally pleased that it was her that got to teach him all the new tricks and how to get better at it.

His kisses were the same. Kinda awkward. Kinda new. All the way cute.

She pulled him into her bedroom and turned to face him as her fingers flew to the buttons on her blouse. His eyes did that cute little frightened widening they always did as she slowly began to unbutton.
His hands flew up and, for a moment, she thought that he was actually taking initiative for once. But, his hands merely gently grabbed her wrists and pulled her hands away from her shirt.

“No! No. Sorry, no.” He bit his full bottom lip, “I just really actually need to talk to you.”

“Oh,” she'd listen to anything he had to say. Maybe he was proposing and, like everything remotely related to relationships with him, it was coming out awkward. She'd say yes, of course. Who wouldn't? She still couldn't believe that this man had given in to her advances all those months ago. Before that, she hadn't even seen him touch anyone else. Because he was hers and he was about to be forever, “I'm listening, Blue.” She sat demurely on her bed, the absolute picture of an attentive girlfriend-maybe-fianceé.

He was wringing his hands and wrists down by his belly, “Right, yeah, uh.” He took a deep breath as he flickered his eyes over every surface of her room before finally landing on her. The deep forest green pinned her in place. Their children will be so pretty with her black hair and those gorgeous eyes, “Piper, you're great and all and I really like you. You're funny, charming, so so kind, and patient with me.”

Oh my God, it's actually happening.

Her eyes lit up and she shifted in her seat as he continued, “Really, I mean it. I think the world of you and you were one of my first friends in this place when I…y’know,” he flapped his hand in the general direction of that blasted Vault up the hill beyond their little graveyard, “and, well, I gotta be straight with you like you have been with me.” He took a deep breath, “Piper -”

“Yes!”
“I'm gay.”

His eyes widened at her interruption and his face turned tatoe-red. She felt her fingers clench in her pink bed sheet before she forced them to relax, the gum popped in her mouth, “What did you say?”

“Did you think I was proposing?”

“What did you just say to me, Blue?”

He looked down at the floor, eyes squeezing shut and, as he spoke again, it came out wavering and watery, “...I'm gay…I kinda wanna…” he left it hanging with a shrug.

“You wanna what?” 

Gay?
How?
When?
What!?

“I wanna break up. It's not fair on you…or me. It's not the same now as it was back then and I was talking with -”

“Months!” She stood, a sudden tower of fury and hurt looming over the young man, “Months! Over a year!? We've been together and you didn't think, not once, to tell me you were gay!?”

“Well…uh, like I said, it's all different now and -”

“And now you want to break up? With me!?” She was pretty sure she was screeching now but she couldn't help it. How dare he!? All this time! All the things she had taught him, all the times she had gone on some hair brained slapdash mission, the people she'd introduced him to! Nick, Hancock, MacCready. 

It all made sense. All the shyness, the frigidness, his inexperience with a woman's body. The ways she had had to coax him into bed every single time. The times she had to be the first to start a kiss. He wasn't shy! He was batting for the other team. He was squeezing his eyes shut to pretend her pussy was an arsehole and that her tits were pecs.
He needed reminding of just who she was and where he stood with her.

“Piper, I'm sorry, I -”

She couldn't help it. She screamed bloody murder and slapped him hard across his stupid perfect pretty little face, before spitting, gum and all, over his chin, “After everything I've done for you, this is how you repay me?”

He rubbed his cheek even as the fingers on his other hand twitched for his knife, “What? I don't -”

“And now what, hmm? Gonna go off and let some guy fuck you? Slut around a bit?”

“No, Piper! I can't help it if I'm gay. I was born -”

She flapped her hand and he flinched, “Yeah yeah, you were born like this. Right. And I'm Cleopatra.” 

There was banging down the hallway and the next moment her bedroom door burst open to a heavily breathing MacCready and Cait. They looked over them both; Piper angrily panting with her hand still raised, towering over the General who looked about five times shorter than usual, his hand still holding his reddened cheek with actual tears in his eyes and spit dripping from his chin.
Cait grasped the situation first, “What the fuck, Piper!?” She budged a little to the side as MacCready came into the room and carefully stepped between the irate woman and their General. Cait hissed through her teeth, “What the fuck did you do to him?”

Piper was incensed. Why wasn't she being backed up? She was the wounded party here, “He's decided he's gay.” She snorted at the sheer ridiculousness of it all.

She glared at the steely gaze of the Merc before her, hiding Blue from her view. He actually tutted his tongue at her as though she were a bratty child, “He didn't decide, it's who he is. Did you hit him?”

She tilted her chin up, she wouldn't be spoken down to by a boy ten years younger than her, “What's it got to do with you, Merc. This is between him and me.”

Cait sidled further into the room, fists clenched and green eyes dangerous, “No' when yer goin’ around slappin’ and spittin’ at him it ain't.”

“Oh, fuck off, Cait! Like you're any fucking better.” She was shouting again but she didn't care. These were meant to be her friends. They were meant to back her up when she was wronged! Not come to the defense of the guy that hurt her.

“I don't smack ma friends. Or judge ‘em fer things they can't change.” She crossed her arms and Piper spied the old track marks there.

“I won't be spoken down to and lectured by a jumped up single dad and a fucking junkie about what me and my partner do!”

“Piper!” Blue stepped around MacCready then, recovered from the slap in full, and stared at her with wide, beautiful, tear filled eyes, “Are you being for real? You can't fucking talk to people like that! How are you even being like this right now?”

She scowled at them all, “Get the fuck out of my room. All of you.”

“Piper, I really didn't mean to hurt you. I just wanted to be honest with myself. I know it seems -”

“Get out! Take your fucking murdering junkie friends and your faggot self too!”

Then Hancock was at her door looking in, then Deacon and Nick, Curie and Danse, Preston and the fucking dog with Codsworth. The Mr Handy had the nerve to say: oh, my! under what counted as its breath, before Blue turned away from her and bustled the others out. As he was closing the door he meekly and quietly said into the air between them, “We'll give you some time.” And it shut with a soft click.

How dare he. They were meant to get married. They were meant to have children to take his mind off of Shaun. He was meant to be hers. Forever.

She seethed and raged. Her pink bedding was ripped. The typewriter Blue had found her in bits beneath her heavy boots. Pictures scattered. Window pane broken.

He was meant to be hers. Forever.

***

They sat around the fire in Jesse's back garden. Mac sat on his left as Deacon sat on his right with a damp cloth held out to him. Jesse took it in shaking hands with a quiet thanks sent the spy's way before he wiped the spit and shredded gum from his still stinging face.

Hancock, from where he sat across the fire, whistled low and cracked open a beer, “Well, can't say I saw that shit storm comin’.”

Jesse shrugged as Cait answered the Ghoul Mayor, “Feck, if that ain't tha truth. What did you say to her, Jess?”

He shrugged again. He felt raw and flayed open. He'd never seen Piper like that before. Had never even thought her capable of saying the things she'd said. It wasn't even the slap that upset him the most, she'd always been a bit handsy and rough. It was the judging. It reminded him so much of his mother that it has opened up scars he once thought kind of healed.
His voice cracked as he spoke and he hated it. He was the General of the fucking Minutemen! It was embarrassing and painful for people who technically worked for him, his best friends, his family, to hear and see that. Hell, all of fucking Sanctuary had heard her yelling, even the children!
“I just…I just told her the truth. I tried to be calm about it and make sure she knew it wasn't her personally I didn't like! I just…” He dropped his head in his hands and flinched only a little at the warm palm running down his back to soothe him.

“It isn't your fault, Jesse,” Danse said from somewhere to his left, “you didn't know she was going to react that way.” 

Codsworth tutted from nearby the cooler as his long appendages pilfered more drinks for people, “I believe it has brought some bad memories back to the young sir.” He was so much like a weird robot dad.

“Codsworth! Please, I'm twenty-five! Or six? I'm not that -”

Preston interrupted, “What bad memories?”

“Oh, here we go.” Hancock rumbled as he lit a cigarette and handed it over the fire to Deacon for them to share.

“‘Ere goes vat?” Curie asked.

Cait cracked her knuckles, “Nothin’ good. I shoulda fuckin’ laid her out! The fuckin’ nerve!”

“Wouldn't have changed what she said and did, sweet cheeks.” Deacon rumbled from his side, “What bad memories we talking about, Whisp? Be good to get it off your chest, yeah?”

The warm hand on his back continued to draw soothing lines as MacCready took the offered beer from Codsworth. Jesse cringed. He couldn't talk about it again, not so soon after he'd already laid it all out to someone else. Not so soon after he'd worked up the courage to come clean about it all and decide to go after the people that actually piqued his interest in that way. He waved a hand at Hancock. If Codsworth was his dad, Hancock was his cool laid back uncle who didn't give a shit what you did so long as you didn't get yourself killed doing it, “Please, John, can you do it?” Hancock snorted from around a Mentat, “Please! I can't do it again.”

He caved like wet tissue paper at the sight of his watering green eyes and little form smashed between his ever watchful merc and spy, “Fine, Sunshine, I'll spin the tale.”

“You don't have to spin -”

“Naw, you've asked me to do it now, haven't ya? So I get to tell it.” He pulled himself up straighter and the others actually leaned in to listen, “Let me tell ya the story of General Jesse Perrin: Life Before the World went to Shit.”

“John -”

“Hush, Sunshine, I'm getting there.” Danse snorted and Mac and Deacon leaned a little closer into him, smooshing him in a little cradle of heat and warmth, “So, the year is twenty-fifty-three ish and our little gay General graces the planet with his presence. Times are real smooth sailing, if you don't account for the looming nuclear war, and little Jesse gets raised like all good people do; mum, dad, schooling, good food, grandparents, all that Pre-War jazz, ya feel?” 

He took a sip of his drink, black eyes sparkling like liquid night sky as he made sure his audience was captivated, Curie had curled up a little with a dreamy smile on her face to listen, “Now, little Jesse was a good boy. Golden. Sunshine. Always has been and always will be.”
He winked at Jess from where he too sat enraptured in Hancock's story telling, “He helped his ma in the kitchen, his old man in the garage, the other kids with their scraped knees and street games. He went to school. Top of his class! A real whizz with maths and science and could recite the Gettysburg from memory. Yeah, he's a real good kid.” He paused for dramatic effect and took a drag on his cigarette with a hum, “Except, one day and just as, as it happens to everyone, puberty kicks in, a little light flickers on in little Jesse's head. His friends start to notice girls. The way they're growing, the way they sound and smell. They start to posture and peacock around to get the prettiest girl to notice them, yeah?” 

Everyone nods, “Jesse though? The little hero of our story finds a flaw in himself. He doesn't notice the girls of the neighbourhood the same way the other boys do. No. He notices the boys the same way all those pink-cheeked little lassies do, instead. Now, Jesse being the good boy he is, runs to his ma and pa to find out what's wrong.”

Jesse winces. For all the spinning and weaving Hancock is doing, he's hitting the nail on the head, “He says: ma, pa! Is this normal? Is this right? And his ma and pa say: no, Jesse! Not our sweet Jesse! What did we do wrong!? It's the devil that did it! And little Jesse is confused. He didn't meet a devil. Nah, what Jesse had done was find an old skin rag and discovered that muscles and manly faces were interesting.” 

Cait nudged Danse with a grin and Jesse rolled his eyes. He really didn't have to tell them that part, “Got a real little chub on for it, he did. He was ashamed for upsetting his folks. He wanted to be a good boy for ‘em, yeah? So, he does what he's told to do. His ma, in all her righteous fury, takes him to get fixed. Ain't no kid of hers gonna be a little shirt lifter, no sir.”

Another pause as Preston whispers out: what then? Then Hancock continues his tale, lit up by the fire pit like an avenging angry angel “Back then, folk didn't live like we do. They had rules and regulations. Things people had to follow to the damned letter. Red tape and injustice and sorrow for all. Not like now, nah, now you can flit about and do what ya like so long as you don't cross the wrong people or get the kids involved, yeah?”

Everyone nodded along to this golden rule of the Commonwealth: Don't go around like a murderous lunatic and you'll mostly get by with friends and a safe place to lay down at night, “Back then, everyone gave a shit about what their neighbours did. They'd peek over your fence, knock on your door, rat you out to the police, if they thought you weren't part of the flock. And what's outta the flock, my friends?”

They all shiftily looked around at each other. They were all weird in their own way: a ghoul, synths, mercenaries, spies, cage fighters, dog. None of them really fit in in what you'd call society. Nick hummed, he knew just as well as Jesse how things used to be, “Being different. Ain't anything more ostracising than being different. We get it,” he waved a finger between them, “us, who have all had shit to crawl through to get where we are with our ray of Sunshine. So, his ma takes him to get fixed, like I said. A special little summer camp for all the little boys and girls like Jesse. And what's at this camp I hear you ask
Nothin’ fuckin’ good, is the answer. Some fucked up weirdos pretending to be men of whatever God they thought they believed in. Taking kids in and trying to change them by force. Our little hero was:” he started ticking things off on his fingers, “whipped, beaten, screamed at, forced to watch porn till he was sick, and fucking electrocuted.” Jesse still has scars hidden beneath his hairline and one on his chest, “Just so his mum could take him home and show off her normal kid. And? Did it work, Jess?”

Jesse shook his head from behind his fingers. Green eyes wide with horror as though this story was about some other poor kid and not himself. Mac's arm wrapped over his shoulder as Deacon's found his lower back, “Didn't think so, Sunshine. His ma was horrified! All those caps spent on nothin’. So, what's next? What can she do to take the gay right outta her precious little boy?
Easy. Good old fashioned, behind closed doors, abuse. Everything the camp did but at the hands of the people who shoulda loved him the most.”
He was getting angry now, his body stiffening and rearing up further even as Nick placed a hand on his knee, “Well, I'll tell ya the truth, Jess. Ain't no one love you like we do. Don't give a damn where or how you get your dick wet. None of us do. You've done too much for too many to be scared about what strangers think of ya. We're your family and ain't nothin' that's gonna change that. And if someone even tries, they'll have a hard time getting past me.”

“Or the rest of us.” Mac said as his arm tightened over him like a shield.

Jesse let out a shaky breath, “Finish your story, John.”

Hancock tilted his head a little bit and nodded with a small frown on his scarred face, “Where was I? Oh, right. Good old fashioned abuse: beatings, neglect, washing your mouth out with soap and abraxo. Jesse's pa was just as bad. Jesse's dad was from the army, you see? And Jesse was meant to follow in his footsteps but the army didn't allow little poofs into their mighty ranks, oh no. So, what did he do?”

Danse rolled his neck and squinted into the fire. His background in the Brotherhood was a rough one, the bounty on his head for being different was massive, but no one had ever cared who someone slept with or got married to, so long as the Brotherhood came first, “He forced little Jesse to lie. Keep this big secret. Hide away this huge part of you that makes you you. Push it down. Hide it away. Don't ever mention or act on it. Definitely don't act on it! The police will come around and take you away. And, just so that no one definitely never finds out, you gotta get married.”

The arms around him tightened further and Jesse dropped his head once more into his palms, “His dad's friend had a girl Jesse's age and it seemed like a match made in Heaven. A dark haired beauty, clever, training to be a lawyer while Jess works his way through boot camp. Nora was thrilled at the prospect of marriage to our Sunshine. What's not to love? He's smart, pretty, well built, best grades outta college, and a well known family with connections all around Massachusetts for her to get to know. They get all bundled up in white and shoved down the aisle to a funeral dirge. Or, a dirge in Jesse's mind, anyways.”

Curie, dreamily and so out of pocket as always, wrapped her hand around Preston's thigh and sighed, “Oh, I bet it vas beautiful, oui? Jesse in an old fashioned suit with flowers in his hair.”

Hancock laughed, “Think you've had enough to drink, sister. Anyway, they get hitched except Nora doesn't know that this is all lavender to everyone else. She's confused when Jess doesn't want to fuck her silly on their wedding night. She waits months and months and months for him to make a move until she just…does it for him.” Jess flinched beneath the arms holding him to earth and sniffled as a calloused thumb gently brushes against his neck, “That's all it took. This one time. And then pop! Jesse is gonna be a dad himself.”

Hancock paused again and looked directly into Jesse's tear filled green eyes, “The year is twenty-seventy-seven and war…war never changes. The kid's born, Shaun Perrin, and the bombs dropped across our world like a fucking catastrophic firework show. Everything and everyone little Jesse knew is dead, feral, or stolen from him and he's locked away to freeze in a Vault-Tec fucking experiment for two-hundred years. Twenty-two-eighty-seven and Jesse is released like some fucking sideshow attraction for a bored and sick old man who Jesse once called son. And what does Jesse find? In the dirt and struggle and pain that life has become?”

The others looked around at each other, they knew the answer, “He finds himself. He finds that he can be exactly who he is exactly the way he was meant to be. No more experiments. No more trying to change for others' gratification. No more hiding in the dark where those that love you can't follow. He finds purpose, friends, new family, and simply…himself. You're gay, Sunshine, and that's one hundred percent normal and fine by us.”

Curie sniffed, “I just love a ‘appy ending, monsieur. That vas beautiful.”

“Did you even get who he was talking about?” Preston asked from above her.

“Of course! Ze General! All ze best stories have 'im involved somehow.”

The others chuckled as Jesse finally straightened himself up even as the arms didn't remove themselves from him, “Thanks, John. I think you told it better than when I told you.”

“Anytime, Sunshine.” He stood and stretched, “Welp, I'm gonna go get some shut eye, long day tomorrow.” As he went to swagger away he met Jesse's eye again and winked, “Don't do anything I wouldn't do.”

Everyone started to peel off after that, good nights happily said as they passed the three who still sat on the overturned tree log, some nattering about the story they'd just been told.

Mac shivered a little as the fire started to get put out by Codsworth before he spoke, “Jess. I know it's been a long day,” Deacon's arm coiled tighter along his lower back, “And I know everything with Piper is still…uh…fresh?” Deacon snorted and avoided the light jab from Mac's fist from where his arm still sat over Jess’ shoulder, “But, um, me and Deacon were thinking that -”

“Ah, come now sirs! I must insist you let the young master retire for this eve. He is practically dead on his feet!” Codsworth floated over after letting Dogmeat into the house, he waved his sharp appendages at Deacon and Mac, “I believe you are on mission tomorrow, yes? Can't go after those Reds without a solid eight hours and a hearty breakfast.”

Jesse was pulled to his feet from between his Merc and Spy, “Night, guys. I guess you can tell me tomorrow, Mac? You know how he gets if I'm dawdling.”

Mac looked up at Jesse as Deacon slid into Jesse's spot and looped his suddenly empty arm around him. They both watched the General leave and slip into his house through the backdoor. Deacon snorted in Mac's ear as he lay a gentle kiss there, “What a fucking cock-block.”

“Deek.”

“What?” They stood to go to their own house across the street to where Duncan was waiting, “It's true.”

Mac hummed and nodded but nudged him with an elbow anyways, “We don't want just his pr…uh…penis, Deacon.”

“I know, doll. Just sayin’ is all.”

The lights went out in Whisper's house as Deacon looked over his shoulder, “What a fuckin' day.” He pushed his sunglasses up his nose and stepped over the threshold into his own home with MacCready.

***

Hope people like this or are at least interested :)
Like I said, this has been in my drive for a while now and I wanted to give it a shot.

Ideas and hopes welcome <3

Chapter Text

Piper hovered a little ways away from her friends sitting around the fire, tucked behind the end corner of Blue's house with her eye peeking around every now and then to gauge the situation.

She was pissed. At all of them. Look at them all, laughing together and relaxing as though her life hadn't just been torn to shreds. Even Curie! Leaning against Preston and joining in as they all talked shit about Piper behind her back. Danse was lazing across the grass with his back against the overturned log, Nick was sitting beside Hancock as the Ghoul told some epic tale that she couldn't make out from this far away but she was sure that it was funny by the way people were reacting.

And then, the worst part, the betrayal that boiled her blood and made the stock of her pistol feel cool and comforting in her hand, was Blue. MacCready's hand was drawing little lines down his back and Blue was leaning into it! He was hers and he was letting someone else touch him like that. A man. He really was just a slut after all, like she'd said during their little argument. She sniffed when MacCready's hand moved to rest casually over Blue's shoulder, his thumb carefully tucked just there beneath the collar of his shirt. Skin on skin. And then Deacon’s arm wrapped around his trim waist. 
They were laughing at her. Brazenly displaying him cheating like it was nothing. She had half a mind to just aim at his back and punish him for it. It wouldn’t have been the first time he’d needed a gentle reminder.

Cait lit her cigarette in the fire and Piper rolled her eyes. She knew the younger woman wouldn't be happy with just a cigarette. It wouldn't be long before she relapsed and Piper would be of a mind to just let her spiral. It'd be her own fault after all.

In fact, all of them weren't like Piper was. None of them were good enough for Blue. Not like she was. What were his options if he left her, realistically? A junkie, a synth doctor who doesn't know the difference between the alphabet and a poem, another synth old enough to be Blue's father, an ex Brotherhood soldier who's so close to breaking down it was almost funny, a Minuteman whose nightmares woke up the whole of Sanctuary, a fucking spy who lies about the colour of the sky, a merc who kills folk for money, and a ghoul.
None of them were normal. None of them were like her. She's pretty sure she's the most human out of all of her friends barring Blue himself, he won't want to lump himself forever to someone with so many issues. People who couldn't give him a family. Blue was perfect and deserved perfect in return.

Yes, she had nothing to worry about even as he leaned further into the men's arms about him.

After a long while, Hancock stood and made his way out of the garden. The others slowly followed until it was just Codsworth banking the fire and letting the dog into Blue's house, plus the three men on the log. MacCready was saying something to Blue and Blue's big green eyes were wide as he turned his face toward the merc. Deacon's arm was still holding his waist and he was relaxing into them both.

Her gun was fully loaded. She could punish all three of them. 

She'd just got ready to cock the hammer of the revolver when Codsworth floated up to the trio being so cosy by the dampened fire and then Blue was standing with that pretty awkward blush high on his freckled cheeks. Codsworth bustled him to the house leaving Mac and Deacon to watch him go. She raised her gun. She could do it. They deserved it. Especially MacCready.

She missed her chance as the pair stood and made their way around to the street of Sanctuary. They lived across from Blue, Hancock and Nick next door, Danse, Curie, Preston, Cait. They all surrounded Blue like he was some fragile thing in need of constant protection. Piper knew better though. He was glorious in battle and even better when relaxed around the fire. He didn't need them. He didn't need anyone except her.
She'd make an exception for Codsworth and the dog.
Maybe. 

She made her way around the side of the house and watched, just to be sure that the spy and the merc didn't follow Blue into his home. They didn't. They crossed the street, hand in hand, and went into their own house.
It was silly, really. The two were like oil and water and Piper knew they weren't going to last. They'd hated each other when they first met: always sniping and moaning at the smallest thing the other did. And then, quite suddenly one evening as they'd all camped on the road, they'd started kissing. Blue had looked fascinated and she had had to pinch him to get his attention back onto her. It wasn't normal. But, Deacon and MacCready deserved each other and any sorrow they brought to each other's lives.

Deacon was the last to enter the house, glancing over his shoulder as the lights went out in Blue's. Piper watched the door shut and then crept around the corner to the window that looked into Blue's bedroom. There was a small crack in one of the panes just there from when they had all helped him put glass back into the windows a while ago and she found it as she peeked into the darkened space.
She could just overhear him and Codsworth talking as Blue sat on the edge of his bed. She'd never been in his bed. Everything had always happened at her home between them so that the robot butler didn't get uncomfortable.

“...I know you still think I'm a child, Codsworth, but you really don't need to give me a curfew.”

“Young master, I am just ensuring that you get the sleep you require.”

He flapped his hand negligently, “Yeah, yeah. I get it.”

“Sir,” a metal appendage gently pat Blue's head, his soft, red hair bounced merrily away, “you have had a very emotionally taxing day. I do believe a warm drink and a good sleep will have you feeling right as rain by the morning.”

“I guess.” He said quietly as Codsworth floated away to make said warm drink and Blue stood to start undressing. His shirt was halfway up, the smooth skin of his lower back on show just for her, when he called out to Codsworth again, “Codsworth?” The shirt fully came off and the robot floated back into the room.

“Aye, sir.”

His fingers were on the buttons of his pants as he kicked his boots off into a corner, “Um, what Mac said…do you think that…” he paused as the buttons came undone, “Nevermind, it's nothin'.”

The warm drink was placed delicately onto the side table, “Finish your thought, sir. It does no good to keep it inside.”

The pants came down and Piper got a fantastic view of Blue in all his naked glory. She loved seeing him getting undressed; he was all long toned limbs, sun-kissed smooth - barring a few scars - skin, freckles over his shoulders, back, and thighs, and his dick was, quite frankly, impressive. He sat back down and looked up at Codsworth. He was so relaxed and pretty with no people (that he knew of) observing his naked form and Piper felt grateful that it was only her that got to see him like this.
He finished his thought, “Do you think that Mac was trying to, I dunno, invite me over or something?” She felt the bitter flare of anger. Why was he talking about MacCready again?

“Sir, I understand that you have very little experience with things such as this so I will tell you what I believe, yes?” Blue nodded, “I believe that young master Robert and master Deacon may have been attempting to engage in romantic endeavours with you, sir.”

The gun was cool and comforting, a solid weight in her pocket as her fingers wrapped around it, “Oh! Um. But they're already…together.”

Fucking sluts.

“Aye, sir.”

“But that would -”

“As master John said, things are different now. Why, it wasn't all that long ago that I saw a group of five young folks enjoying each other's company.”

He was flustered and awkward and way too adorable, “W-where did you see that?”

“Not long before you came home, sir. In Concord.”

“Oh? Raiders? Well…uh, good for them I guess? Shame they were all,” he made finger guns and pretended to shoot randomly with little ptoo ptoo sounds. Piper sighed. He was too cute.

“Yes, sir. But, the point still stands. People really don't mind what folk do within that area of one's life. Master John was correct to tell you so.”

“Hmm, and you think Mac and Deacon -” she couldn't help pulling the hammer back on the gun and the sound was loud in the silence of the night around them. Blue paused in what he was going to say and glanced over his shoulder. Piper quickly ducked and then frowned when she heard the sounds of fabric being rustled. Blue said, “Actually, I don't think I wanna be alone right now. Going for a sleepover, Codsworth.”

The robot sighed, “If you insist, sir.”

Piper rushed through the shadows to the other end of the street and ducked behind an old generator to watch Blue's house. He emerged shirtless in his black cargos and had one of his many knives held tight in his hand. His bare feet didn't make a sound as he crept over the grass towards the corner of his bedroom window. Finding no one there, he flipped the knife and quickly made his way a little ways up the street and into a house with a green door.

Piper scowled and made her own way home. She went through her living room and down the hallway, ducking her head into Nat’s bedroom. Her sister was sound asleep curled around her blankets and stuffed toys. The age gap between them was massive. So big that people often assumed that Piper was her mother.

But no, the only children that Piper would bear were Blue's. When he was ready. 

***

Jesse practically ran to Hancock and Nick's house. He let himself in with the skittering feeling of being watched erupting over his skin and making him pebble into goosebumps. 
He rushed down the hallway and had the wherewithal to knock on the bedroom door as he panted heavily in the darkness.

Nick's voice rumbled out after a few little shuffling sounds, “Come in?”

Jesse breathed out in relief and pushed the door open, peeking one green eye in and having the decency to look abashed and sorry. Nick and Hancock were casually leaning against their headboard with a cigarette each and lit up in lantern light, “I'm sorry,” he paused and awkwardly scratched the back of his neck. He was an adult. He shouldn't need to do this! He was a fucking General for Christ’s sake.
He’d forgotten his shirt but it was okay. Hancock and Nick already knew.

“Come on, Sunshine.” Hancock scooted over to make space on his side of the bed. Jesse sagged and almost sprinted to the warm spot beside his friends. He lay down instantly with his back to them and sighed when scarred fingers brushed carefully through his hair, “What's eatin’ ya, Jesse?”

He shrugged, “Just felt weird. Thought I heard a noise at my window and didn't want to be alone.” Nick grumbled as he got up from the bed. Jesse heard the rustling of fabric and then the synth left the bedroom. He heard him walk down the hall and then the front door opening and closing again, “Sorry, Hancock. I didn't mean to interrupt.”

“Don't worry about it, we weren't doing anything that can't be picked up again later.”

Jesse rolled over to face him, “I spoke to Codsworth.”

“Uh huh.” Hancock shuffled down and lay on his side to face him, almost nose to no-nose, “And what did old pop say to ya?”

“He said…he believes that Mac and Deacon were flirting with me.” He laughed. Self deprecating and nervous.

“Oh?” Hancock brushed a stray lock of hair out of his face and tucked it behind Jesse's ear, “Well, I believe it.”

“Yeah?” 

Nick came back into the house then with Dogmeat on his heels. The dog huffed and jumped up to settle by Jesse's feet, his big head a comforting weight on the young man's shin, “Nothing around your house, Jess, except a worried dog.” Nick shrugged back out of his clothes, synthetic skin damaged and displaying gizmos and gyros within his abdomen and torso, before he climbed back into bed and flopped an arm over Hancock's waist, “What are we talking about?”

Hancock wriggled a bit, getting comfortable against Nick's chest, “Just about Sunshine's love life.”

Nick snorted, “Mac and Deacon have been making goo-goo eyes at our boy for months.”

“Really?” Jesse asked, a little sleepily as the safety and warmth of the two older men slipped around him, “You think so?”

Hancock nodded, “Know so. Get some sleep, Sunshine. Everything will feel better come the morning.”

***

Morning came, bright and hopeful, and the group were making preparations to leave Sanctuary in the capable hands of Sturges and the guard so that they could set out to take down a nest of ferals in the Super Duper Mart.

Piper approached Jesse and he felt himself tense before he forced his muscles to relax. He was fine. She had just been upset and he could understand that, “Hey, Blue.”

“Piper. Uh, you okay?”

“Oh, peachy. I was actually thinking of sitting this one out if that's fine by you? I'm not feeling at my best and would appreciate some down time.”

Relief washed over him. He had felt the coils of trepidation all morning at the thought of travelling with her for the week or two they'd be away. They'd made arrangements for Duncan and Nat to stay with the Longs and Sturges but, if Piper was staying, Duncan could just stay with Sturges. It was honestly a load of his mind and also meant he and Piper could get a little distance to recover from their…argument, “Sure!” He probably said that a bit too brightly, “Um, that is, if you're sure.”

A muscle in her jaw twitched but she held it back, “I'm sure, Blue. Be safe and I'll see you when you get home.”

Then, suddenly and before he could react and step away, she grabbed him by the tops of his arms in a biting hold and slotted their mouths together in a desperate and hard kiss. He carefully pushed her away and he spied Cait standing to one side with a deep frown on her face as she let the head of her bat meet her palm, “Oh! Piper, please don't do that to me. We aren't together.” She opened her mouth to protest, fingers twitching as she clenched and unclenched her hands, “Please, I meant what I said yesterday. I understand you're upset.”

She rolled her neck and took a step back from him, “I'm not upset. It's fine.” She turned away, jumping slightly at the sight of Cait, before brushing by and calling over her shoulder, “See you when you get home, Blue.”

He watched her go and the sheer amount of embarrassment that he had felt yesterday flooded through him like a great wave of nausea. She'd done that in front of Cait again! He was meant to be in control. He was meant to be confident and a leader and a warrior. He felt about twelve going through his first awkward break-up as the older kids laughed at him. He squeezed his fingers around his wrists, willing the panic not to come, and then jumped as a hard shoulder pressed against his.
He let his arms drop to his sides and glanced out the corner of his eyes at Cait. It truly was uncanny when he stood by her, they could've been siblings; green eyes, red haired, pale and freckled. Maybe they shared an ancestor way down the line somewhere, “Cait.” He said simply.

“Jess.” She replied back in that thick Irish accent that he still wasn't sure how she picked up, “I think it best if you stay away from Piper for a while.”

“Yeah? She doesn't want to come anyways, so that's good, I guess?”

She snorted, “I mean even after we get back. She's givin’ me the heebie-jeebies.”

“Oh. I'm sure it'll be fine. She just needs to cool off a bit.”

“Uh huh. And to stop fuckin' touchin’ ya. I mean it, Jess, somethin' ain't right with that one.”

He didn't get a chance to reply as Preston bounced over like an overly excitable Labrador, “General! Ready to make tracks? Ferals aren't going to take themselves out.”
He flopped a big arm over him and Jesse nodded in affirmative. He was led down the road to the gates of Sanctuary, his family spread out behind him like a great wall of come and fucking try it. Dogmeat loped along at his side, never too far away.

Across the way, in the shelter of her own doorway, Piper watched them go. She frowned when Preston lay himself over Blue and practically combusted when MacCready and Deacon stepped up to his back, MacCready reaching out and gently adjusting a strap of Blue's armour for him. That was her job.

She finished packing her bag, gathered her armour and weapons, and, when she was sure the group had a good enough head start, set off to follow. She'd make sure Jesse didn't stray from her.

He was hers and she was his.

Chapter Text

The Super Duper Mart was a full day and a half out from Sanctuary and, as they crossed through Concord, Jesse felt a small amount of weight lift from his shoulders. Yes, a bit of space from the disaster that was yesterday was already doing him some good. He found himself laughing and smiling at the light conversation going on around him. Dogmeat barreled himself into a cluster of birds and barked at them till they flew off in a great fluttering panic. Curie had linked their elbows together and was nattering on about some new experiment she was working on and, just ahead of the group to scout the road, Deacon and Mac kept looking over their shoulders at him with little grins.

We're they actually flirting? With him? Codsworth, Hancock, and Nick seemed to think so and he usually deferred to their wisdom in life stuff. He'd never ever explored actually dating before and, the more that he'd thought about it the last few weeks, his relationship with Piper had just kinda happened to him.
She had been persistent in her affections. Hanging off him in any quiet moment, always sitting by him, making suggestive comments. He liked her, he really did, as a friend. She was funny, smart, confident, and had shown him a lot in those first few months. Always directing him on who to speak to to get what they wanted, tapping and pinching to bring his wandering thoughts back around, helping with his armour and weapons. Eventually, he gave into her suggestions because he'd believed it was what to be expected of him. A young man with a pretty woman on his arm like it had been back before this time.

But, that niggle in his brain consistently told him it wasn't right. It didn't feel good. He'd seen men and women all over the Commonwealth in what he now saw as same-sex relationships but couldn't bring himself to believe it. Couldn't bring himself to believe that his friends and family around him didn't have a problem with it. And then, one night on the road during a quiet moment by the fire as they celebrated getting the news that Duncan was on his way north, Deacon had leaned into MacCready and kissed him. In front of everyone! And, no one had batted an eye. It was like everyone has just been waiting for it to happen and that it was normal. He found Hancock the next day and asked him about it:

“Hey, can I ask you something?”

“Anything, Sunshine.” He always called him Sunshine. Said it was because he was a ray of light after the Commonwealth had been in the dark for so long.

“Mac and Deek…they're um..?”

“Fuckin’?”

He'd blushed to his ears but nodded, “And that's…okay?”

Hancock shrugged, “‘Course, why not?”

“Well, they're both -”

“Guys?” Jesse nodded again and Hancock blew a breath sharply out of his nose, “Jess, are you bi?”

“What!? No! How can you think that when I'm with Piper?”

Hancock stared him down, taking in the flush and nervous shuffling as he scrutinised him, “Uh huh, and how's that going?”

“Fine.”

“Just fine?”

“Well, yeah. That's normal.”

Hancock waved him over to sit on a crumbling wall as the others looted a nearby raider camp they'd just taken out, “Listen, kid, it shouldn't be just fine. You should be excited! Giddy! All in the honeymoon phase and shit, right?”
Jesse shifted awkwardly in his seat, the rocks of the wall digging in painfully, “Jess…do you have sex with Piper?”

He scratched his nose and squinted into the middle distance somewhere, “Sometimes.”

“Hot piece of stuff like that and it's only sometimes?”

“Well, I'm busy and tired and -”

“Do you like it?”

“What do you mean?”

“Do you like having sex with her? Kissing her?” More awkward shuffling and Hancock sighed as he looped an arm over his back but ignored the flinch, “Sunshine, do you even like women like that?”

He paused for a long while. He couldn't tell the truth but couldn't lie to Hancock either. He was his best friend. Like a brother or cool uncle or a funny dad. He squeezed his wrists as his hands twisted nervously in his lap, “Um, no. You can't tell anyone! Please!”

“Why not? It's all good and no skin off my nose,” Hancock didn't have a nose, “think any of us is gonna give a shit if you're gay? Look at me and Nick! No one cares.”

“But it's…my mum and dad said…”

“Oh, and what did your old man and ma say to you?”

So he told him. Told him everything. The camp, his parents anger and disappointment, his own self flagellation as he tried to change himself. His lavender marriage. Shaun. His close relationship with knives and razor blades when it all felt too much. Hancock tutted and rolled up one of his sleeves and frowned down at the old straight scars there.

“Sunshine, first things first, you come see me if you ever feel like doing that to yourself again. Second, your mum and dad are full of shit. Third, you need to tell Piper. It ain't fair on either of you to live in a lie.”

“But I -”

“Nah, kid, you can't go on like this. Look at you! You need to do something before you get in too deep. I promise, pinky swear and everythin’, that no one is gonna think any less of ya for just being yourself. Ya feel me, brother?”

Jesse nodded as the sleeve was gently rolled back down, covering the past like a balm or panacea, “I feel ya.”

Curie moved away to play a game of some kind with Preston and then Danse was brushing shoulders with him. They walked in companionable silence as they passed the church in Concord until Danse, quietly and almost apologetic, said, “How're you feeling?”

“Better. Thanks.” He accepted the water passed to him by Nick and took a sip, “Kinda glad to be out.”

“Action is always the best way to work through hard emotions.” He nodded to himself as though that were the Gods honest truth of it, “I'm happy you got it off your chest.”

“Me too. John was right: no one cares about that stuff anymore.”

Danse nodded again and went quiet. He was like this. He only said things when they were absolutely necessary and didn't feel the need to fill silences with nothing words. It was nice and let those in his company think or simply enjoy the solid force of his presence. Jesse basked in it as they picked their way over to a campsite as the afternoon started to draw late. It was time for a little break and a few hours of shut eye.

The camp was set up quickly and efficiently; bed rolls laid out, fire lit, and food warming up over it. They all sat and removed their boots to give their feet a rest and some air and Jesse found his bedroll sandwiched between Mac and Deacon's. He sat and was promptly joined by the pair as they settled on either side of him with Dogmeat resting his great head on his shins. It was cosy and comfortable and, before long, he found himself drifting off to the quiet murmurings of those around him. Deacon shifted slightly and Jess' head lolled to one side to settle onto the spy's shoulder. He didn't seem to mind so Jesse relaxed further against him. Mac stretched and his hand found a strand of Jesse's red hair and started twirling it absently as he joined in the conversation.

“Yeah, but you need to account for the wind when shooting from that far away.” He said and Jesse stopped trying to follow the conversation completely as his eyes shut fully.

No one disturbed the General as they all clocked his quietly snoring form. Cait jerked her chin at them all and dropped her voice, “Piper kissed him before we left.”

Nick frowned into the fire, “And he let her?”

“It wasn't a letting kinda situation. She grabbed him and just crashed their faces together.” She picked at some grass and scowled around at them all, “He had to shove her away. And then she was all: see you when you get home, Blue. I swear, she's fuckin' cracked.”

Mac mumbled quietly to not disturb the sleeping form squished between him and Deacon, “I can't believe she smacked him.” It hadn't left a bruise but Mac could still see the hand shaped red mark when he shut his eyes. He'd seen Jesse get shot, stabbed, punched, and almost blown up, but none of it had shaken him quite as badly as that hand print had. It shouldn't have been put there. That's the thing; Raiders, Super Mutants, Slavers, Gunners, you expected those kinds of people to try to hurt and kill you. But, your own friends? It wasn't right. It shouldn't have happened. And the spitting? Someone should've gone with him to speak to Piper.

Preston rubbed his forehead with a finger and thumb before saying what the rest of them were thinking, “Didn’t it seem like, I dunno, like she was kinda comfortable doing that to him?”

“Like she’d done it before?” 

“Well, yeah. He didn’t seem all that phased by it. He just kind of shrugged it off and got pissed when she went for Cait and Mac. I think she’s done it before, yeah.”

Nick frowned over the fire and carefully lay a hand over Hancock’s angrily bouncing leg, “Won't happen again, can promise you that.”

“Oh, for sure, Bolts.” Deacon adjusted himself slightly and Jesse's head slipped down. He caught it gently and lowered it as Mac moved the man's legs out from under Dogmeat so that he was stretched out over them both, breathing deeply with his head on Deacon's thigh and knees nestled on Mac's. Deacon carefully dropped his hand to lightly scratch at the red head's scalp, “Not if we have anything to say about it.”

***

He and Deacon had stealthed through the majority of the Super Duper Mart before an errant can tipped over and alerted the horde. It was all going well, the rest of the group using the growls and screaming of the ferals as the signal to rush the building, shotguns were blasting, knives flashing and Jesse felt weirdly at peace.
For all his young awkwardness and naïveté from his mostly sheltered upbringing, this is where he belonged. He had been surprised, at first, at how easily he'd adjusted to this new life after some initial panic - excluding his hangups on relationships, of course - his brief stint in the army through boot-camp and a single deployment seemed to have been just enough for him to be able to hit the ground running after he'd defrosted. He was good at it and, if he'd been able to rise through the ranks above a lowly private, he'd bet on himself being a Commander eventually.
Knives were his go to, quiet and stealthy and able to take down most of a raider camp alone when he caught them sleeping, but he was handy with a rifle and pistol too. Before he knew it, he'd been made General of a little budding militia with a solid group at his back ready to take on the Institute and find Shaun. That, the Institute, had been nearly six weeks ago and he found that, whilst the pain was still raw sometimes, he felt okay enough to begin to move on a little. Time waited for no one and the Commonwealth didn't allow for grieving like it once had.

It made him think of Deacon. The man had opened up to him about his past, slowly and with much bullshitting at first, but once he started it all just spilled out. He'd had a wife before. A little farm that they'd worked hard to make flourish. And, like with the story of many of them, it had been blown away from him like ashes on the wind. As though it had never existed. Barbara was killed for being a synth, even if neither she or Deacon had known it at the time, and Deacon blamed himself for a long time. His eyes shook behind his sunglasses without him telling them too and Jesse had told him that it looked like a condition called Nystagmus. Deacon had just shrugged. Apparently they hadn't done that before he'd been booted in the back of the head by one of his old gang members for trying to save his wife. He kept his sunglasses on like a shield, only letting them down in the evenings when it was just their group around the fire. Then, he and Mac had started dating.

Which brought his thoughts to the Merc. Like himself and Deacon, Mac had also had a wife taken too soon from him. And a son. He'd been waspish and bratty at first but settled into the easy companionship surrounding them all and got better and better the more weight that was lifted from him. Winlock and Barnes? Gone. His son? Cured and safe in Sanctuary.

The three of them, in a weird way, were the same. And now they were flirting with him. Even in battle they brushed against him to back him up, covering him easily and even helping with a Stimpak. It was so easy with them both. Flowing and natural. How he'd imagined proper relationships and friendships to be.
When he'd woken up that morning in between them both, Mac's arm over him and holding Deacon's fingers, and Deacon's leg draped over them both, it had felt…warm. And right. And good. He'd looked over at Hancock and Nick, as always his usual go-to's for a bit of affirmation, and just got lazy smiles and a black eyed wink in reply. It was fine. They'd both said so. So, he'd enjoyed the quiet moment of solid muscle against him and warm breath fluttering his hair.
Cait had ruined it, like the annoying little sister figure she was, by snorting and telling them to get a room. He'd shot up, ignoring the grumbled protests from them both, and moved to start his day.

The end of the fight came suddenly and he stood in the center of a cluster of dead ferals and cracked his neck to release the tension there. One deep breath in and a slow one out. He glanced around at everyone, Curie flitting across them as she assessed their scrapes and bruises, no one was majorly hurt. Preston had a bust lip, Danse had a scratch along his neck above his armour. Cait's knuckles were busted. Deacon was wiping some grime from his shirt. Hancock was flicking blood from his knife with his usual grin as he nudged Nick with an elbow. Mac was limping and looked a little greener than usual from his run in with the glowing feral.

“Hey,” Jess stepped over the corpses, “need some Rad-Away?”

Mac casually grabbed Jess by his arm and leaned into him to help balance off his bad leg, “Couldn't hurt.”

He didn't flinch, “Okay, let's find a cleaner spot to settle for a while.” He took Mac's weight and started to lead him towards the pharmacy section behind the counter of the mart. The others followed absently and Deacon came to Mac's other side to take more of his weight.

“Fu - frickin’ hate ferals, guys.”

Deacon snorted, “We know, buddy.”

They settled Mac onto the ground cushioned by a hastily unrolled bedroll and Jesse dug around his pack for the Rad-Away. Deacon rolled up the merc's sleeve and tied a little strip of leather over his bicep to make the faint blue vein inside his elbow pop. Jess cleaned the skin with a little gauze damp with vodka before quickly sticking the needle attached to the primed line of the miracle drug into his arm, “Ouch!”

“Sorry, shoulda warned about a sharp scratch.”

He chuckled, “It’s okay.” He leaned his head back against the wall to wait for the Rad-Away to run its course and Dogmeat flopped down beside them all to keep guard over the injured mercenary. People tended to get a little nauseous during this particular treatment so Deacon scooted over a bucket just in case. The others were sitting nearby but far enough away to give the illusion of privacy to the little trio, “Jesse, we were talking around the fire last night.”

“A favourite past-time, I know.” He smirked as Mac rolled his eyes.

“Fu - frick, I don’t wanna do this when you’re in a good mood.”

Deacon shuffled a little and nudged Mac’s boot with his own, “You’ve started it now, MacDaddy.”

“Ew. Don’t call me that.”

“Don’t wanna do what?” Jesse was frowning now, bottom lip being worried by his teeth as his hands started to pick at his sleeves, “Were you talking about me?”

Deacon lay a hand, ignoring the slight flinch with furrowed brows, onto Jesse’s wringing fingers, “Yeah, but nothing bad. At least, nothing bad about you, Whisp.” He sighed as Mac pulled the bucket toward himself and spat into it, the Rad-Away was hitting his system now, “Listen, Whisper, about the other day when Piper hit you.”

“It’s fine. She was upset! I understand and she gets like -” He cut himself off and kept his eyes on the grimy floor he could see between the hollow space of his crossed legs. If he squinted a bit, that stain kinda looked like a rabbit.

More spitting before Mac straightened, “She gets like what?”

“It’s fine. It’s nothing and I can handle it.”

“If it was nothing, you wouldn't have to handle it.” Deacon said simply, “Jess, has she hit you before?”

He was quiet for a long moment as his good mood completely faded away and he continued to squint down at the floor. He carefully stood, not meeting the eye of either Mac or Deacon and ignoring the soft whine from his dog, “I, um…I don't want to discuss this right now.” His tone had slipped into the one he used when giving orders to the guards of the settlements and Mac and Deacon could only watch as he turned and walked away.

He waved away Hancock and Nick, shook his head at Cait and Preston, and said I'm fine to Danse and Curie as he passed by them, “Just going for a piss. Be back in a sec.”

He needed air. Everything felt too hot and tight, his clothes scratching at his skin and old scars burning beneath it all. Prickling sunburn ghosted over him and he gagged.
He shoved the side door of the Super Duper Mart open and took a great ragged gasp in as the fresher air hit him. He felt like he was drowning. Why had that felt like an interrogation? Why had he felt the need to defend her like that? He braced his hands on his knees and just let the tears come. Better out than in, Codsworth would say, and he was usually right about most things.
He'd been happy with the flirting. Couldn't it have just stayed that way? It felt too deep. Picking away at things he'd rather not have raised to the surface. They'd already seen enough embarrassment, why did they want to see more? He dropped into a squat and hugged his knees, fingers picking at the sleeves of his shirt. He didn't want to do this again.

He just wanted to be normal.

It was a little while later when Hancock dropped to his side. He didn't touch him but made sure that Jesse could see him in his periphery, “Longest piss I think a man's ever taken, Sunshine.” His eyes trailed over the fingers still picking at the sleeves, “Wanna talk about it, brother?”

“No.”

“No problem. We'll just sit for a bit then.”

“Okay.” He sniffed and dropped his head into the hollow space made between his knees and chest.

***

Hope people are enjoying this :)

Chapter Text

The Super Duper Mart was surrounded by handy little buildings with many nooks and crannies a person could get comfortable in. So she did.

As the group of her friends discussed the point of attack at the side door of the mart, and she knew exactly how that conversation was going, she settled by a window and kept an eye through the scope of her pistol. They were all huddled and listening as Blue drew lines in the dirt beneath them. He always did this. He made cute little maps for them all to follow with arrows indicating which person would be best where in a close quarters fight. Stumbling across raiders and Gunners in the streets was different, that was all feeling and instinct and covering each other. In a planned attack, Blue really showed his leadership qualities; he was firm in his decisions, calculated, clever, and everyone followed his instructions to the letter. It made them efficient and brutal with minimal risk of injury to themselves. They still got hurt, they weren't immortal by any means, but it was very rarely because of one of his decisions. Usually it'd be a surprise hidden person, or an explosion, or some other random event.

He was fantastic. Even watching from afar, she could imagine the way his voice sounded. It wasn't too deep but not light enough to mistake him for someone much younger, not too sing-songy but not flat either. The perfect balance of old Boston with the twang of somewhere down south. She watched him draw a new line with a finger before pointing up at Preston who nodded in agreement. The others were loading up ready and MacCready was already picking the lock on the door with Deacon helping.
The little sneak thief didn't need any help with robbing people.

The door was carefully and oh so slowly pushed open and then Deacon and Blue disappeared inside. Alone. MacCready kept watch around the edge of the threshold with his rifle raised. She had his head in her scope. She could so easily just…pull the trigger. She shook her head, it wouldn't do. Her gun wasn't silenced and the noise would attract every feral to her position if she did. She saw MacCready tense and then make a motion with his hand and then they all flew into the building, the dog a streak of black and tan. She could faintly hear the gunshots and see the bright strobe flashes through the dirty windows or wood boarding. She grit her teeth. Blue had better not get hurt. Not without her there to help with a Stimpak. She knew he didn't like other people to see the insides of his arms and she believed that it was only her and Curie who knew what lay beneath his sleeves.

The shooting stopped and she waited for them to reemerge. It was a while and she was growing more and more impatient before she smiled as Blue practically ran from the building.

She raised her scope again and levelled it to see his pretty face. He was crying. Great fat tears falling silently down his face as he twisted his hands together and pulled at the fabric over his flushed skin. She couldn't hear him as he frantically paced but she could see when he took in a great breath before collapsing into a squat.

She should go over. Comfort him. Remind him of where he belongs.

Then Hancock was there and she snarled as her scope brought his warped face into clearer view. Blue had slept at his house the other night. Him and Nick. She could take him out right now. Mayor. Please. He's barely ever at Goodneighbor anymore, leaving it to Fahrenheit for weeks and weeks at a time. Sure, he'd taught her how to do it, but he was meant to be the Mayor. Not her.

And now he was sitting with Blue. Mouth moving as he comforted her partner. She should do it. Just pull the trigger. It'd be so simple.

If she couldn't have Blue, no one could.

***

“I really really don't want to talk about it, John.”

“That's fine, Jess, we don't have to. How's about you give me your hands so that you stop worrying at your wrists though, hmm?” He held out his scarred hand for Jesse to take. It took a moment but, soon enough, Jess' smooth hands were in his own and he relaxed marginally, “There, feels a bit better, yeah?”

“Yeah.” He wiped his eyes on his still bent knees before looking at him properly, “Can I ask you something?”

“Sure.”

“How do you know how to do this?”

“Do what?” He didn't like seeing Jesse like this. He was a ray of Sunshine in this dark world. People flocked to him like he was the second coming and he worked so hard to keep them all safe and happy. It didn't leave much time for himself so Hancock swore he'd never ask anything of him if he could help it. He'd paid him for a couple jobs before he truly knew him, of course, but he wouldn't ask anything more: not a typewriter, not help with an old case, no desperate search for a miracle cure. It was too much for someone so young and still so unused to this world. Too much for his narrow shaking shoulders as he tried to hold them all up out of the struggle and dirt.

“You know. This stuff.” He clenched his fingers into his hands to make his point and Hancock grinned.

“Ah, Fahrenheit.” 

“Oh.”

Hancock nodded and smiled, “She's kinda like you in a way. Didn't have the easiest time growing up, ma was a bit of a Jet addict who got physical when angry. I didn't know about her until she came knocking on my door when she was about thirteen, maybe fourteen, all scarred up from a stint with the Forged.” Jesse sat properly, keeping his hands on Hancock’s, “Didn't believe her at first until she described her mum. Some one night stand I had when I was still smooth and young.” He grinned a little, "Plus, she has my hair and eyes."

“And you took her in?”

“‘Course. What else could I do? Leave her on the streets of Goodneighbor and pretend she didn't exist? Nah. I'm a lot of things, Sunshine, but a deadbeat dad I'm not.”
Jess relaxed further, his legs spreading out and the muscles in his back loosening up, “Anyway, she had nightmares and panic attacks for a long time, like you. Sometimes she'd want to fight to get the tension out, sometimes she'd just scream at me, sometimes she'd wanna talk. And, sometimes, she just wanted to be hugged. Properly. The way a dad should hug his kids, y’know?”

“Oh.” More silence stretched between them as Jess processed this new information about the formidable and terrifying daughter of the ghoul Mayor, “Do you think, maybe, that I could get a dad hug, maybe? If you don't want to, that's fine. Just, if it worked for Far then maybe -”

He was cut off as Hancock shuffled in and wrapped his arms around Jesse, “Don't even need to ask, Sunshine.” He held on firmly but not tight and allowed Jesse to sink his head into the crook where his neck met his shoulder. He ran a hand carefully up his back and between the straps of his armour so that he could feel the warmth and just pulled him close. It was nice. Cosy. And while Hancock didn't want any more children of his flitting about the Commonwealth, he'd make an exception for Jess. He had Codsworth, sure, but Mr Handys weren't exactly known for giving warm hugs to settle someone's brain when they have a bug in it.

Jesse sighed, a warm puff of air over Hancock's neck, and Hancock grinned into the top of his flaming hair. If the kid were bigger and had grey eyes, he could've been mistaken as Far's kid brother or something. And wasn't that a wild thought? Him, Cait, and Fahrenheit all did look a little similar to him the same way all blondes kinda did.

If Jesse had been born in the Now, if Hancock had met him sooner or even, another wild thought, raised him, how would he have turned out? Hopefully, not as prone to panic. Stronger. Less likely to take people's shit. He wasn't a doormat, not fully, but he needed to learn to say no and be firmer. And not let random broads fucking hit -

A gunshot and then blinding white pain erupted along his upper back. He heard Jess scream as he fell to the side but everything was kinda fuzzy and under water. Kinda like when he mixed Med-X and Calmex.

“Curie!” Jess was on his feet and sprinting to the door and Hancock watched him from where he lay in a rapidly spreading pool of his own blood, “Curie! Everyone!”

When Jess turned back to face him, it wasn't the scared young man going through too much he saw, it was the General of the Minutemen: Righteous fury. Anger. Rage. Hancock grinned, even though his face felt oddly numb, as Jesse pulled his knives out with a glinting flourish and stood over him like a goddamn angelic meat shield.

Curie was on him then and tutting as Jess directed Preston and Deacon to stay with them as he flew off with the others towards a nearby cluster of buildings. He'd be fine. He was good. A ray of Sunshine.

***

They didn't find anything in the buildings surrounding the Super Duper Mart except the fresh spent casing of a .44 from a revolver. It was unremarkable and not marked with any kind of branding. Homemade. The same way some raiders, Gunners, or even themselves made their bullets.
Mac tucked it into his pocket and frowned around the little space they'd found that had a perfect clear view of where Jess and Hancock had been sitting. He got onto one knee and pulled out his rifle to check the range and wind direction. He grit his teeth. They'd been lucky that Hancock had been shot in the back. Whoever had done it hadn't taken into account the slight degree change from the height of this hiding spot and the wind swooping in from the south. If they had, the bullet would've gone through Hancock's head.

He could see Hancock and the others slowly shuffling back inside of the mart. They'd be spending the night to let him recover before moving on to check out a few settlements and then to Goodneighbor before looping back home. He kept watch from this vantage as Hancock was taken inside by Deacon, Preston, and Curie and then spied the others as they did a quick circuit of the area around them. Tonight would be a traps, mines, and a constant on watch kinda night.

“What do you think, Mac?” Jess said from close behind him, Dogmeat at his heel as always.

“I think Hancock's a very lucky ghoul. Anyone with any real skill at long range would've made the shot easily.” He dug the bullet out and showed him, “Shot was made with a .44. I'm betting a modded high powered revolver with the range we're talking.”

“There's no evidence of any raiders being close by recently or Gunners.” He knelt beside him and checked the shot himself through the scope on his heavy pistol, “I mean, if someone wanted a fight, they'd have stuck around, yeah?”

The sunset made Jess' hair look like fire. His eyes changed from a deep dark green to a sparkling amber and grass mixture and his skin practically glowed. Mac looked away and checked down the scope again. Danse was heading inside the mart with a bag of random loot he'd found slung over one shoulder, “You thinking a targeted hit?”

“Yeah, but I don't know any assassins and feels a bit weird that they'd missed if they were hired for it.”

“Something personal, then?”

“Hmm. Could be. He's not exactly sang about as a good guy in the Brotherhood and I'm sure some folk outside of them have issues with him.” He sighed and sat back, lowering the pistol and tucking it away into the holster by his hip, “Maybe Nick would be able to look into it better?”

Mac dared to lean in a little and grinned only a small bit when Jess leaned a little towards him too, “What if Hancock wasn't the target?”

“Ha! They'd have to get in line.” He was smirking again and Mac was glad to see it. He hadn't meant to send him into a spiral earlier on. He would've liked very much to lean further in and maybe loop his arm around him but he didn't want to push it so he simply tilted his head away and let their knees knock together as he scooted more fully to the floor.

“They could get in line but they'd find a bit of an issue in actually getting to you.”

“Oh? How's that then?” He waved a negligent hand in the general direction of Hancock's drying blood stain across the way and below them in the dirt.

“Pfft. Look at your weird group of friends, Jess. Sure, Hancock got shot today, but which of us hasn't gone through that? He'll be up and about in an hour flat and raging at some unknown entity's audacity. Or whatever you call it. Then there's Danse and Nick. The others.” He paused and watched out of the corner of his eye to gauge his reaction, “Deacon and me.”

He saw him smile as he stood, brushing invisible lint off his thighs and knees, “Yeah. And you all have me. So it's square, yeah?”

Mac stood too and looked down at him, “I do like to keep things square.”

He snorted out a little laugh as he led the way out of the improvised snipers nest and out towards their little found family getting ready to shut the mart for the night, “You're a dork, Mac.”

“Your dork.”

A small moment of quiet before Jess shrugged one shoulder almost up to his ear, “Yeah, I guess.”

Later in the night, Jess sat with Cait by Hancock's head as the ghoul slept off the Med-X and Stimpaks that Curie had pumped him full of. He had an amazing tolerance for drugs and it usually took a lot to actually knock him out so that he'd lie still long enough to heal properly. Nick was on watch, doing angry loops of the mart and peeking through windows. The door was rigged with a frag bouquet and the others were sleeping soundly not too far away hidden behind the counter by the pharmacy. He could just see the little huddle of Deacon and MacCready: Mac with his head in the hollow of Deacon's shoulder with the older man's arm about his waist.

Cait nudged him, “Why don't ya just go lay down with ‘em?”

He scratched his nose and blew out a breath as he looked away, choosing instead to look over Hancock's face. He was all scars and fury and charisma but, right now, he seemed so peaceful and relaxed, shadows flickering over him from the small fire keeping him warm as he recovered, “It's…complicated, I guess?”

“You guess? It ain't that complicated, Jess. Just go and get in their bedroll with ‘em. They won't mind.” She was tapping at the toe of her boot with a finger, the rhythm a weird backdrop to Nick's patrol.

He could feel the familiar panic bubbling up again and shut his eyes as he let his head fall back to rest against the wall, “So people keep saying.”

“‘Cause it's the truth.” The tapping continued and Jess used it to ground himself. He stretched his legs out in front of him and felt his calf nudge against the top of Hancock's head. He cracked an eye to make sure it hadn't disturbed him before shutting it again when the ghoul didn't react.

“I dunno how to do this, Cait.” He was whispering into the dark behind his eyelids, “The only people I've ever…y’know, are Nora and then…and it just felt…” He trailed off, not sure how to finish.

“Not right? Normal?” Her tapping stopped for a moment before it resumed on his knee, “Forced?”

Forced. Had it been forced? He'd done it with Nora once. A weird few hours where everything had felt wobbly and wrong. His knees had shook and he'd felt so sick afterwards he couldn't get out of bed for a full day. Nora just went about her day as though nothing had happened and they didn't speak about it. Hancock told him that it sounded like Nora had drugged him a little but he didn't remember taking anything. They'd had dinner, he got ready for bed, and then…the weirdness. He mentally waved it off.

With Piper, it didn't feel any less weird though he could remember each instance with startling clarity. The first time, she had dragged him to the hotel Rexford and shoved him onto a bed. He tried telling her he wasn't in the mood and wanted to go play cards with Mac and Hancock but she didn't hear him. She stripped him and pinched his skin to get him into the place she wanted. Rough and handsy and dragging his hands along her body as she took whatever pleasure she could from him: 

“P-Piper…it's…I dont…” she lowered herself onto him and pulled his scarred wrists away from his eyes as he tried to hide.

“Hush, Blue. It's okay, I'll show you how.” He knew how. He just didn't want to.

He just shut his eyes and waited for her to finish. Each instance afterwards was more or less the same. When she was done, he'd get up from wherever they were, get dressed, and then go find Hancock or Deacon or Mac and just…leave it alone.
It was embarrassing. Awkward. He was young. Ish. But, he was the General, he was a fighter, he was a man. It didn't work like that. He hadn't tried to fight them off like he knew he could've so some part of him must've wanted it. Right?

Warm hands touched his fingers when they had started picking at his sleeves and the skin beneath, “Jesse.”

“Cait.”

“I know what it's like, to be made to do somethin' you don't wanna do. We all do, in one way or another, it's okay to tell us about it and get help.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. Imagine where I'd be now if I didn't ask you for help. Probably be Radroach food in a gutter somewhere. Mac's kid would be dead. The Railroad would be gone. Danse would be dead. Nick would've lost his mind. Preston? Dead. Curie? Locked in a vault forever. Everyone needs some help sometimes.”

He didn't reply but accepted the calloused hand in his. It wasn't the same. He couldn't ask for help in this because it was something, as an adult man, that he should've been able to stop himself. It wasn't the same as stopping one of his friends being killed or helping them settle old grudges. Not the same as them coming to the Institute with him to put that nightmare to rest. 

Why was it so warm again? The hands in his held tight and he swallowed down a tight breath. Hancock shuffled a little in his sleep, the others light snoring filled the air and, eventually, Cait's head dipped to one side. He helped her lay down properly with shaking hands and stood. He could see Nick at the other end of the mart and waved. Nick waved back.

He silently moved to where Deacon and Mac were sleeping; both relaxed, Mac's face free of the worry lines on the bridge of his nose, Deacon's eyes rapidly moving with dreams instead of injury beneath his eyelids. They'd put his bedroll next to theirs and he quietly took off his boots before climbing into it. Deacon was on his left, empty space to his right, and he lay stiffly and stared up at the ceiling. He wasn't sure how long he lay like that: fingers pick pick picking. The repetitive motion distracting from the prickling pain beneath his skin. The throbbing in his head.

Pain.
Pain.
More.
More pain.
Drown it out. Drown it out. Drown it out.

He startled as Deacon shifted and then there was a heavy muscled arm draped over his chest. It was solid and warm. Like a weighted blanket to soothe troubled minds and bodies.

“Go to sleep, Whisp.” Deacon's low voice was close to his ear and he turned his face to look at him. A tired blue shaking eye was looking back, “Close your eyes. I got you.”

Jesse shut his eyes and let sleep take him as warm breath ghosted over his face.

Drown it out.