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Hunger. That was the best way to describe it. It was a constant ache in the center of his being. Hancock felt it as he walked, as he moved and as he breathed. It was particularly noticeable in the dead of night, as he lay back in bed and gazed up at the ceiling. The drugs did nothing to mute the persistent yearning, confirming that the hunger was, indeed, a perpetual part of his life. The sleepless nights had become nearly painful, but it was a pain he was familiar with. It could not be ignored, but it could be dealt with. The listlessness he felt was chalked up to a mild to severe case of depression, just like the lethargy, and his empty headedness. There were days where he simply existed, and existing was good enough.
Or, at least, it had been.
When the Vault Dweller came to town merely existing was no longer an option. The day she rolled into town was the day that the persistent yearning hunger turned into something so much more apparent in his day-to-day life. Hancock had planned to ignore the Vaultie until the knowledge of her existence was purged from his memory. It didn’t work. When he wasn’t seeing her, he was hearing about her; whether it was from the citizens of Goodneighbor, or on the radio. Then, somehow, the woman had wiggled her way into his life. She was around Goodneighbor often. When she was in town he wished that she would leave. Her being so close yet out of reach thoroughly upset him. When she was gone he desperately wanted her to return. He worried about her damn near constantly. Her presence, or lack thereof, was another painful constant in his life.
One day, he woke up and decided to face it. He woke up and decided to face her. The nearness to the object of his desire had his body practically buzzing in anticipation. Her company alone pleased him just as much as it upset him. So close, yet so far away.
“You want to travel together?” Nora asked him, her head tilting to the side. “What about Goodneighbor?”
“I’ve been too comfortable. Getting too used to this life style. I need to get out and sharpen the old warrior instincts.” He met her eyes, saw her smile that perfect smile of hers. “I would like to tag along with you, if you’d have me.”
“Yeah,” she said. “Okay.”
“Yeah?” He felt more excited than he should have been.
“Yeah.” Nora held out her hand. Hancock’s gaze focused on her palm, on her fingers. He wanted to touch her, wanted to hold her hand. He wanted to travel the map of lines on her palm with his fingertips.
He settled for the handshake.
Her palm was warm and soft, while her fingers were chilled. The handshake ended far too quickly, and Hancock barely managed to hold back a sound of disapproval that grated against the back of his throat. The sound could have very easily been a whine or a whimper of sadness.
The hunger that he experienced wasn’t sexual, it wasn’t a carnal hunger. It was an overwhelming desire to be touched. He wanted to hold her. He wanted to close his eyes and sleep with her tucked so securely in his arms that he knew that she would still be beside him when he woke up. He wanted to hold her hand. He wanted to lace his fingers between hers and just… exist. Just existing with her would be a beautiful existence, to be sure. Far better than existing alone.
But the handshake was fine, he told himself. The handshake would have to do.
--
At some point in his life, Hancock let himself lose track of time. Half-past leaving Diamond City and turning into a ghoul he simply stopped paying attention. As far as he was concerned the time, the date, was always After. After leaving Diamond City. After ghoulism. Days, weeks, birthdays, and holidays were all blurred together in a haze of Jet and Mentats, Lethargy and sleepless nights.
The next time Hancock had the opportunity to touch Nora again was nine days later. He didn’t recall keeping any sort of mental tally, but some part of him knew that it had been nine days, and he knew it without question. Nine days of walking the Commonwealth, doing nothing in particular but cleaning up riff-raff. Nine days of sleeping on the other side of the camp fire, sharing meals and sharing stories. Nine days of being so damn close to her that he could smell her – but never touching. Not once.
They had been ambushed by raiders. After nine days of clearing out their strongholds, the raiders had clearly decided to hunt the duo down. Though they won the fight, they did receive a bit of a beating. Nora, whose armor had been in a state of disrepair during the ambush, had a pool cue broken across her back. Hancock took a bullet to his shoulder. Though painful, the injuries were incredibly minor when compared to what typically happened when unsuspecting persons were ambushed by raiders.
After the raiders were dispatched they found a safe place to hunker down so they could tend to their wounds. They hid out in the back of an old bus, sitting on the dirty floor as Nora unloaded all of her medical equipment from her rucksack. Hancock shrugged his coat from his shoulders and tugged at the plunging neck of John Hancock’s shirt to expose the bullet wound. The bullet didn’t go too deep, but it was deep enough that he couldn’t pry the lead out with his fingers. Another scar to add to his collection. Slender fingers slipped into view, and before he could brace himself for the contact, Nora was touching his arm. Barely-there pressure was applied to his skin, and he dragged in a ragged breath. He would let her think that it was a sound brought out by pain, but it was caused by her proximity, her willingness to help him.
“It’s not deep,” she said, breaking the contact. His eyes shot to hers, his head turning fast enough that it nearly hurt his neck. Nora was leaning in close – so close he could smell the floral perfume she had spritzed on her clothes however many days ago. He could see the dusting of freckles that danced across her nose. Though he felt the urge to kiss her, the desire to press his forehead against hers was so much stronger. He wanted to press his forehead to hers, card his fingers into her hair, and close his eyes and just breathe.
Nora held up set of forceps and asked, “Do you want me to…?”
“Go ‘head.”
The woman reached out and touched him again, though this time it was firm and so much more real than the ghost of a touch she had used earlier. Hancock nearly vocalized his appreciation, but remained silent. The forceps dipped inside of his skin, touching torn and bleeding muscle. The glorified tweezers clinked against the chunk of lead and a sobering amount of pain shot through the entirely of his arm. The bullet was extracted with no trouble. She plopped the bloodied slug into her palm, holding it out to him.
“Way to go,” she said teasingly. “Wish I had a lollipop to give you.”
“Thanks, Doc,” Hancock jested.
When Nora offered to stitch up the wound Hancock turned her down. Despite the effervescent need he had for her to touch him in any capacity, she needed to save her supplies. There was no sense in her wasting them on him.
“Nah, Doll,” he said. “I’ll find me a puddle of radiation and I will be right as rain. Let’s take a look at you, huh?”
Nora sighed, and she turned her back to him. She removed her measly chest armor and then hoisted the back of her thread-bare shirt up and over her head. The hem of the shirt was hooked around her neck so her front remained perfectly covered with her modesty intact. Hancock was gifted with a nearly unobscured view of her back. It was beautiful, porcelain skin that would have otherwise been completely unmarred if it wasn’t for the colorful damage the pool cue had left behind. The bruise was raised and swollen, red and splotchy with a laceration that traveled beneath the bloodied strap of her once innocent white brazier.
“I’m going to unhook your bra,” he warned her.
“What, a girl can’t get a drink first?”
Hancock chuckled at the half-hearted joke, but he felt so damn breathless. He would finally get to touch her. He would get to tend to her injuries and help her heal. Nora was entrusting the task to him, and he’d be damned if he was going to mess it up. A smoothskin like her would need stitches for the mess that had been left behind. Hancock’s radiation mangled fingers brushed the outer edge of the angry bruise. Nora exhaled through clenched teeth, while Hancock tilted his head back, closing his eyes. He so desperately wanted to glue his body to hers. He wanted to hike up his shirt and pull her back against him so he could have the skin-to-skin contact that he had been hungering for.
With his body trembling, he went about cleaning the cut. Though it was only two inches in length, the location of the laceration caused some concern; it stretched across the skin where the clasps of her bra rested. Hancock taped some gauze down, but even then, the material would chafe against the sutures. He watched as her back arched, as she found her bra straps and went to reconnect them. She released a loud hiss.
“Yeah, that’s not going to happen,” she groused, quickly unhooking the bra. Hancock sat close behind her as she tugged her shirt free, and hid her body from view. There was a moment where she fidgeted around with her shirt, and then her bra was being pulled from one of her sleeves. Hancock said nothing as she placed her supplies back in her pack. Her chest armor was pulled back into place and secured. The Hunger left his body burning. Not because the woman was now roaming bra free, but because he had been so close to her. He had touched her, and she had trusted him to touch her and maybe that was part of what he wanted. A mutual trust, a friendship created from the ground up.
The duo left the bus, and they continued to wander. They seemed to be meandering idly, and that was completely fine. There was companionable chatter as they walked. There was no awkwardness, no pregnant silences. Maybe this was what he needed, too. He needed companionship. That wasn’t to say that Fahrenheit had been a bad friend or body guard, but the woman could be painfully quiet. Nora talked, she sang with the radio. She was a tangible presence in his life, one that couldn’t be overlooked or ignored, or forgotten.
“You’ve never heard of Tarzan?”
“Is he Grognak’s cousin?”
“Oh, you poor man. How about Beauty and the Beast? That one is a classic. So is Little Mermaid…”
“… Is that first one about that chick that tried to fuck a Deathclaw?”
“Whoa. Whoa! You’re kidding! You have to be kidding!”
When Nora’s Geiger counter began to click angrily, she stopped and looked over her shoulder at him, flashing a pleased smile. The puddle of radiation that she had found was a literal puddle of water in a flooded out neighborhood. Old waste barrels were overturned, creating a little radiation oasis. Hancock knelt beside the water, cupping handfuls of liquid and palming it over his wound. Nora retreated far enough that her Geiger counter wasn’t going haywire, waiting patiently.
“Oh, Sister, I wish I was kidding.”
Hancock regaled a stunned Nora with his newly titled story (Beauty and the Beast? That was a perfect title for it!), and she laughed and made appropriate grossed out noises. At one point, he found himself just watching her, no longer treating his gunshot wound. She was in the throes of laughter, her hand cupping over her mouth to stifle herself, eyes screwed shut. The woman was too damn beautiful, too genuine, too kind…
He stood, and returned to her side, shrugging his coat back onto his shoulders. As he neared, she dropped her hand. She was grinning ear-to-ear. She met his eyes and said, “I’m glad you came along, Hancock. It gets lonely out here. You company makes all of this a whole lot easier.”
Her words touched his heart. There had to be others who were willing to travel with her, and she had picked him. He offered a lazy smile, pulling his cigarettes from his pocket. “Well, what can I say? I aim to please.”
“I mean it!”
“So do I.”
--
The next time they touched was five weeks later. Five weeks of sleepless nights, of watching her from the other side of the fire as she sang along with the radio. He was feeling irritable, and he was doing his damnedest to keep himself in check. There were times where he found himself reaching out to her as her back was turned, reaching out to pull her back towards him. He didn’t like it when she turned her back to him, didn’t like it when she wandered off alone – and he had damn near gone absolutely mad when she left him in Sanctuary for all of an hour one sunny afternoon.
It was another fire fight that had brought them together. It was another interaction created by circumstance, and not by a sudden yearning to reach out and take his hand. They were battling Super Mutants. Though the duo got the drop on them, when push came to shove, those assholes had suicidal crazies on their side and there wasn’t much that could be done about that. A rhythmic beeping had just caught his attention when, not a second later, Nora grabbed his hand in an iron grip and started running.
The contact was unsolicited and surprising. He didn’t expect her to grab his hand, to practically drag him behind her as she ran for cover. He was touched that she thought of him, that his safety mattered to her. His hand clasped hers just as tightly and he never wanted to let go. The brief wind sprint ended with both of them diving behind an old vehicle. They tumbled against one another. Hancock ended up on his back, with Nora stretched across his body. No, he wouldn't let her take the brunt of whatever was coming. Hancock rolled, tucking her beneath him, an arm curling around the top of her head while the other wrapped around his own.
There was a small explosion of sound, and then an eruption that shook the vehicle that they had hidden behind. His ears were ringing. There was a rush of heat as debris rained down around them, clanking into the car, slapping into the ground. The Suicider exploded frighteningly close, but they were fine. They made it out unscathed. It was only after the chaos that Hancock noticed that Nora’s arms were wrapped around him. She was holding him close, gripping the back of his coat. The realization made him shudder. His neck could no longer support the weight of his head, his face pressed into her neck. She smelled like sweat and something floral – He wondered if she had that perfume bottle hidden in her pack somewhere. Hancock inhaled deeply, and allowed himself to enjoy Nora’s embrace. He could stay there, in that moment, forever.
“Hancock?”
His body shook, his eyes squeezed closed. No. No, he needed this. Please, just a minute longer. God, please. Hancock grit his teeth, and he slowly sat up. It hurt him. It hurt him so badly. The hunger was suddenly so much worse. He had gotten a taste of what he had wanted, and then it was ripped from him. He felt needy, and weak, and his heart felt heavy – so fucking heavy. There was a tightness in the back of his throat he forced himself to swallow it down. No, he was more than used to the hunger by now. He wouldn’t let it ruin him.
Hancock sat and pretended to survey the damage around them, “That was real fuckin’ close.”
Nora sat up slowly. She looked at him with a bit of suspicion. “You’re not hurt?”
“Not a scratch, Doll,” he started patting his pockets in search of his cigarettes. He craved something stronger; something that would fog his mind and maybe distract that persistent need he felt in his chest. There wasn't a drug strong enough to stifle the hunger. It was always there. A cigarette was pulled from the pack in his breast pocket, followed by the lighter. He didn’t light it up immediately, he let his hands have something to touch and hold for all of a few seconds. He ran the pad of his thumb over the lighter’s silver casing, rubbed the cigarette between his fingers.
“Are you sure?”
He stalled for a moment, finally lighting the cigarette. “Yeah. Just a little bit of a rush is all. That may have been better than the chems.” He pushed the smoke through his nose, letting it obscure his view as it surrounded him.
That night, as they sat together by the fire, there was a tense silence between them. The sleeping bags had already been rolled out on opposite sides of the fire, just like every other night. They already ate dinner and they talked, and conversed, just like every other night. But the silence that followed it all was tense, and uncomfortable. Hancock had the added bonus of absolutely dreading the idea of crawling into his sleeping bag and trying to sleep. He wanted her to talk to him about her life, about her favorite colors – she could have screamed at him and it would have been a far cry better than the silence. He hated himself when he realized that she could have punched him square in the face and he would have welcomed the contact, and he would ask her to punch him again. Anything from her, the good or the bad would have been entirely welcome. So long as it came from her. Only her.
“So…” His eyes snapped towards her, eager to hear her speak. “Are we going to talk about today?”
“Whaddaya on about?”
He started to search for his cigarettes. The coat had too many fucking pockets.
“Today? The Super Mutants?”
“That was nothin’,” he said a bit gruffly. “It was a little bit of a rush, had a flash back sort of. Just a combination of bad memories and adrenaline.”
“Hancock,” she said his name so softly he nearly shivered. “Please don’t lie to me. Let me help.”
The ghoul grit his teeth, finally snatching the cigarettes from his right-hand pocket. He lit up, and took a deep drag.
“Don’t lie to you? Let you help? What about you, Sister? What the fuck are we doing out here? You said you were looking for someone, and you never said who. And we haven’t been looking for anyone!” Another drag. The smoke filled his lungs, it seeped from the cavity that had been his nose, it leaked from his mouth as he continued his tirade. “We’ve been wandering, doing absolutely fucking nothing. How about you let me help!”
He was sorry. He was already so sorry. He wanted to take it all back, but something in him had finally snapped. He needed to run her off, and then throw himself headfirst into the chems, and alcohol. He wanted her erased from his memory, completely obliterated. But he also desperately wanted her acceptance. This was a mess - he was a God damn fucking mess.
“Don’t change the subject,” she said, her voice still soft and gentle. “If you will tell me what’s wrong with you, then we can—“
“We can what, Nora? There isn’t anything - !” He shot to his feet. Another drag, and the cigarette was done. He tossed the butt into the fire, while he was already reaching to start up another. “How about you tell me what’s wrong, huh?”
Nora stood as well, so he was no longer standing over her and yelling. She said nothing, but let him yell at her. He hated himself, what was he doing? He was killing what chance at happiness he had, he was destroying it. No. Please, stop. Please just fucking stop.
“You can’t even help yourself. You’re out here stalling. What are you afraid of, huh? This has been a complete waste of time!”
Time. Like he cared about time. Everything was After. After Nora. He didn’t want to know what it would be like After Nora. But it was coming, speeding at him like a bullet. Nora suddenly raised her hand, and he anticipated a slap to the face – he wanted to be slapped in the face. Anything. Give me anything before this is all over. Give me something to hang onto for when After Nora begins.
The hand that palmed his cheek was soft and gentle. Her thumb stroked his cheek, her fingers sliding up the hard slope of his jaw. He didn’t manage to restrain the weak moan that tore through his throat. His legs buckled, unable to hold his weight. Nora followed him, her free hand reaching to give the other side of his face the same attention. She sat on her knees across from him, holding his face in her hands.
Finally.
“Oh, Hancock…” Her voice was a whisper that soothed his frantic mind. His hands fell on top of hers, keeping her palms flush to his face. His throat felt tight and constricted. When he opened his eyes his vision was blurry. Her figure wavered and danced in the flickering fire light, he could barely see her face. When her hands suddenly slipped out from under his, he felt his heart – his entire being – shatter into a million pieces. Of course she would leave. After what he said to her, after how he had been acting, she had every right to leave him. His hands slipped over his cheeks and covered his eyes and he sank. He sank further into himself, slouching and shrinking until he was doubled over, his forehead nearly touching the ground. If this was what was left of his life, then he didn’t want to exist. Not if it hurt so much. Existing without her wasn't an existence at all. The Hunger roiled and it burned, it made his stomach twist and his eyes burn.
“’m sorry,” the voice came out as a feeble whisper. He didn’t want After Nora. “’m so sorry.”
“Hancock, hey…” His body jerked, his head lifted. He heart throbbed in his chest so quickly that his breathing came in hard, uneven gasps. She was crouched beside him, her hand extended to him. “Hey, come on. Let’s get you in bed.”
He didn’t want to go to bed, it was too far away, he wouldn’t sleep. He couldn’t sleep. He took her hand anyway, relishing the contact. When Nora shifted to the side there was a spark of hope that warmed his entire body. He looked towards her, then back at the sleeping bags. While he was busy falling apart, Nora had taken the two sleeping bags and zipped them together. The end result was one large sleeping bag which was more than capable of fitting two people. Both of their pillows were there at the head of the sleeping bag. A numbness consumed him, muting the hunger as she went about helping him out of his coat, as she removed the tricorn hat. She even pulled off his boots, the old socks he wore, the sash around his waist. With all of the patience in the world, she helped him into the sleeping bag.
Hancock followed her every move. Nora crawled over his body to the other side of the sleeping bag and tugged at her boots, her socks. She removed her pieces of armor, her bra, and then she slipped in beside him. There was a brief moment where Hancock was afraid to move. He didn’t want to scare her off. When he didn’t move, she did. Nora scooted in close to him, her hand finding his under the covers.
“Nora, can… can we…?”
“Whatever you need.”
Hancock turned to his side, facing her. Nora rolled to her side, facing away from him, and then he tugged her flush to his body. Hancock encompassed her body,, touching every bit of her that he could. His feet hooked beneath hers, legs and thighs touching, his hips against hers, his stomach and chest at her back, and her head tucked beneath his chin. Nora tugged at his arm, pulling the limb up against her chest. His forearm was between her breasts, his palm cupping her neck. He could feel her pulse, rhythmic and steady. Her arm curled around his, her hand at his wrist.
As his body went boneless and relaxed, fragments of lucid thoughts managed to fight to the surface. Outside of his embarrassing state of need he was finally able to think. She had been so gentle with him, even after he yelled at her. He had done nothing to deserve her kindness, but he would willingly accept every bit of it. Hancock pressed a kiss to the crown of her head, letting his eyes close.
“Thank you, Nora.” His voice was still too weak, all ragged and airy.
Her thumb brushed against the inside of his wrist, and she said something that he didn’t quite catch because he was already drifting off to sleep.
--
For the first time in a long time, Hancock woke up and felt completely refreshed. There had been no point in the middle of the night where he woke up in a fit of restlessness. He didn’t wake up to gaze at her through the dwindling embers of their camp fire. When he woke up, Nora was still secure in his arms. At some point in the middle of the night she had rolled over to face him. Their legs were tangled together, one of his feet pressed up against a naked expanse of leg. The plunging neck of John Hancock’s shirt allowed Nora’s forehead to press into the skin of his chest, her hands curled beneath her chin.
Hancock watched her for a few moments, memorizing the details of her face. He followed the trail of freckles at her nose, the small beauty mark under her eye. His fingers tangled into the ends of her hair and he closed his eyes. He could feel her pulse, could feel her breath. The Hunger was silent, the yearning need was blissfully absent and it was all because of the woman he had wrapped so securely in his arms. He wanted to kiss her eyelids, her cheeks, he wanted to kiss her until she woke up. He didn’t want to get out of the sleeping bag, he wanted to stay there for the rest of his life just holding her. But she needed to wake up, he had an apology to make.
“Nora,” he whispered, dipping his head to whisper into her ear. “Nora?”
Her eyes fluttered slowly, he could feel her lashes against his chest. Her body stretched and arched, and then she snuggled in closer, sighing quietly.
“Mm?”
“I would like to tell you something,” he said, his voice still soft. He suddenly felt quite foolish. He could have waited until she actually woke up, but then again he couldn’t. The need to apologize was much too strong for him to sit idly and wait. The moment would pass, or he get cowardly and opt to remain silent. This needed to be said at that very moment.
“Mmhmm?”
He swallowed hard, “Did you sleep alright?”
She hummed a sleepy response, “I forgot how nice it was to be held.” Her words were slurred with sleep, but he caught the words, and he pulled her closer if that was at all possible.
“I wanted to say thank you for last night. You could have left me here, and you didn’t. I will never be able to thank you enough. What you’ve done for me… I won’t forget it. Not ever.” He dragged his fingers through her hair, staring off into nothing as he spoke. “And… I didn’t mean what I said. If you’re not ready to tell me who you’re looking for then that’s fine. I will be here when you are. And it hasn’t been a waste of time, none of it has.”
“It has been, though.”
He looked down. She finally had her eyes open, and she was staring at his chest.
“This entire time, I have been doing nothing but wasting time. I’m sorry, but I’m… I’m just so scared.”
The woman who had exuded so much strength and patience the night before was curled into him, looking weak and fragile. He knew that she wasn’t quite ready to tell him who she was looking for, and that was fine. He would show her the same patience that she had shown him. He would wait until she was ready, and then he would do whatever he could to help her.
“Whatever you need, Nora,” he said. “Whatever you need from me, and I will give it to you – whenever you need it.”
She finally met his eyes, and she smiled weakly. “Thank you.”
The two remained snuggled close to one another for a few hours. Hancock drifted in and out of sleep, and every time he woke up Nora was there. If she wasn’t curled against his body, she was dragging her toes up along his leg as she played with her Pip-Boy. When they broke camp and actually began their day Hancock stayed close to her side, occasionally snatching her hand in his. She never shied away, always giving his fingers a welcoming squeeze. Despite what she said – despite what he said – their time together hadn’t been a waste. Not at all.
--
Time had returned to Hancock’s life. There would always be the After; After Diamond City, and After Ghoulism. There was also After Nora, but it no longer signified an ending. After Nora, he started living again. He no longer just existed, he really lived. The monochrome world that he had been existing in was obliterated in heaping wave of color and life. A weight had been lifted from his shoulders, and could breathe easier. The Hunger still existed, but it had mutated into something else entirely. He Hungered for her laughter, and her happiness. He yearned to ensure her safety, and he wanted to provide for her. And he did, he did his absolute best to provide for her, he strived to make her happy.
Eventually, right around the three-month mark, Nora told him who they were looking for. She showed him the wedding rings that she had threaded together with an old golden bracelet she’d found. Hancock had been understanding – of course a woman like her would have been married, of course she would have had a baby. Nora would have made a wonderful mother, all patience and understanding and gentleness. She would have been the absolute best. He promised her that he would be with her until the end. They would find her kid, and they would most definitely find the man who had caused his Nora so much pain. She deserved happiness, she deserved all of the happiness in the world.
Month five brought the first of many, many, kisses. It had been a rare night where the stars peaked through the haze of radiation laden clouds. Nora had been downright exuberant as she stretched out on their sleeping bag and pointed out constellations. Half of the time, he didn’t quite see the formations she was identifying but that didn’t stop him from searching. Throughout the duration of their star gazing she had her head rested against his chest, content and comfortable. His hand was in her hair, idly tugging at little tangles until he could card his hand through it without trouble. When she was finished she rolled to face him, all smiles and without warning she kissed him. It was timid and it was hopeful, and the very second she tried to pull away Hancock had his hand on the back of her head, pulling her back towards him. He had waited until she was ready, he had waited so patiently. Nora kissed him like he would shatter, and he was having none of that. By the end of the night she was so thoroughly kissed she was in a daze, a lopsided smile on her kiss bruised lips. He hungered for more, something a little more carnal in nature, but he would wait. He would wait for her forever.
Hancock’s forever came in their seventh month together. It was the first bed that they had been in for a rather long time – at least one that was surrounded by four actual walls. They were back in Goodneighbor. He had wined and dined Nora at the Third Rail where Magnolia’s crooning voice coaxed them into a slow, lazy dance. After, they went to his room in the State House. It started with snuggling and quiet words, followed by some wrestling. He would pull her flush to his body and he would tickle her mercilessly as she shrieked and wiggled and laughed. She would push and bite at him in a futile effort to stop him. Their playful wrestling match ended with Nora on top of him, straddling him and completely flushed and breathless. Hancock’s hands slid up her thighs, gripped her waist. She leaned down and kissed him, shifting against him so slowly it was near painful. The entire mood changed the moment she rolled her hips into his, the playfulness became super-heated and needy. Hancock was on top, kissing Nora senseless when he sank into her. She rose to meet him, holding him close. His name came tumbling from her lips as she reached her peak. Hancock could have died happy. If God struck him down in that very moment, that would have been just fine. Nora was gorgeous, and absolutely breath taking - and she was all his.
It was month nine when he told her that he loved her. She had been particularly withdrawn after the events at the Memory Den. They were shacked up in one of their favorite haunts. Nora had been a bit short tempered, and Hancock was starting to get irritable. They had been bickering, fighting over something small and meaningless when out of nowhere they were yelling, screaming. They were at each others' throat, not listening to one another, just desperately trying to be the loudest.
“If you don’t like it then fucking leave!” She suddenly shrieked. She shoved her palms into his chest, pushing him towards the door. “Get out of here!”
“Nora—“
“I said leave! Go!”
A roiling growl left him as he turned and stalked out the door. Though he knew better than slamming doors at any of their abodes, Hancock slammed the door for all he was worth. He got a whole yard away from the house before he stopped. A little yelling wasn’t going to end them. Their argument meant absolutely nothing, he was frustrated but he wasn’t going anywhere. He turned back, and simply stood beside the house, right next to the front door. He pressed his back to the weak metal wall and lit up a cigarette. He understood that Nora was dealing with her own Hunger in her own way. There was a lot on her plate, but she had been particularly vicious over the past week and something in him just snapped. Damn women – that’s why male ghouls went feral. God damn women. He had just took a hard puff of the cigarette when the door shot open – it swung open hard enough that it bounced off his boot.
“Hancock! John!” she was yelling, running into the darkness. “John!” Her voice was cracking and desperate. “Oh, please, John! I’m so sorry!” she slowed, and he could see her shoulders shaking with the aid of the Pip-boy that was lit up on her arm. “Please don’t leave me…” It was broken sound, soft and fragile.
Hancock threw the cigarette to the ground. He made his approach, nearly jogging to her side. “Nora…”
“John, John I am so sorry. I didn’t mean it, I…” she was in his arms, gripping his coat in a flash. Her small body shook as she fought to keep her tears at bay, but it was no use. “Please don’t leave me.”
John chuckled, slipping his arms tightly around her. Aside from the night that they first slept together, this had been their first real fight. A screaming match in the wee hours in the morning. A screaming match about nothing. Literally nothing. He kissed the top of her head.
“Wh-why are you laughing!?” She managed to sound fierce despite her tears, and he laughed a little harder. “Stop laughing.”
“I love you, you crazy woman,” he tilted her head back so he could kiss her. She tried to push him away, those full lips turned into a hard frown.
“You… You’re telling me that you love me now? Right now? After I just went completely crazy on you.”
Another kiss, “Yeah,” and another. “I guess I am.”
“But—“
He held her tear streaked face in his hands, and kissed her again, nibbling at her lip.
“But, I just—“
“Nora, do you love me or not?”
“Of course I love you. But dammit-”
Hancock scooped Nora up into his arms. She let out a squeak of surprise as he turned and walked her back towards the house. He was careful going through the doorway, and then the hall. After he placed her on their bed, her head resting among the mess of overstuffed pillows, he kissed her again.
“So,” he drawled. “Let’s try this again.” A brief pause. “Nora, I love you.”
The softness that he was so used to seeing returned to Nora’s eyes. Her arms slipped around his neck and she finally smiled. This was After Nora. This was happiness. This was living life. It was the ups and the downs and the beautiful in between. It was ridiculous arguments in the middle of the night, and it was making love immediately after.
“I love you too, John.”