Chapter Text
Cooper didn’t know whether his wife even knew half the people she invited to her parties, or if she simply picked convenient, pretty names to fill out a list.
He scolded himself for the thought, he shouldn’t underestimate her. It was obvious she knew exactly what she was doing, unlike him. He was the one who didn’t belong here. People’s eyes turned toward him as he moved through the crowd, because of course: how could they miss the face of Vault-Tec?
Maybe he was just tired. Ignoring everyone who tried to intercept his escape, Cooper headed for the quieter edges outside, but when he rounded a corner, he collided with someone.
“Shit,” he muttered, watching whiskey spill from his glass and run sticky down his hand. “Sorry…”
He looked up at the other man: a thin mustache, a white and blue suit. Cooper wore the expectant look of someone waiting to be given a name.
“Robert,” the man offered, not a hint of anger or irritation in his voice. If anything, his expression held a curious little smile. He kept his attention on Cooper’s movements, as if making sure he was alright.
His gaze dropped for only a moment, to the mess on Cooper’s hand.
“Sorry, Robert. I wasn’t paying attention.”
“No need to worry.”
Before Cooper could even shake his hand off or wipe it on his pants, Robert had already pulled a white handkerchief from the inside pocket of his jacket. He offered it without hurry, as if it were simply what he was meant to do.
Cooper blinked, surprised, but took it.
“Thanks.”
As he ran the cloth between his fingers, the ring on his hand caught the outdoor light. Something small shifted in Robert’s face, not quite a grimace, not quite displeasure… just a slower blink, a pause so subtle most people would’ve missed it. Then, as if nothing had happened, the little smile returned.
“You can call me Cooper.”
“I know who you are.”
Cooper’s expression cracked for a second, but then he pressed his forehead with his hand and laughed at his own stupidity.
“Not that hard to figure out, huh?”
“Oh, please, don’t be embarrassed. Even if your face weren’t on every poster in this country, I would’ve remembered it. Everyone would, I think, you’re not someone easily forgotten.”
“Am I that charming?”
House’s eyes, bright and dark at once, traced Cooper’s face with an indecent kind of calm.
“Well. I’d love to find out.”
“Do we know each other?” Cooper asked, more to himself than to the man, narrowing his eyes as if he might find something familiar in the other’s features. But he didn’t.
“Unfortunately, no. We haven’t had the pleasure.”
Cooper tilted his head, puzzled.
“That’s funny. It feels like I already know you.”
“Don’t allow yourself to be mistaken. You do know me.” Robert glanced at the silver watch on his wrist before looking back at Cooper. “For exactly… three minutes.”
And just like that, Cooper’s shoulders loosened, shoulders that had been tense only three minutes ago, and he laughed. He couldn’t remember the last time someone had looked at him without wanting something in return. An autograph. A thumbs-up. Something.
He wasn’t sure he could withstand either.
Without meaning to, he tightened his grip on the handkerchief. It still smelled clean, but better than that, it smelled like everything that wasn’t his house, the party, Barb.
“You don’t recognize me from the movies, do you?” he ventured.
“I assure you I don’t.”
“Then you’re not a fan.”
“Absolutely not.”
Cooper Howard was pretty sure he was staring at this man in open wonder now. How long had it been since he’d felt this light, this unnoticed, just… being with someone? And if he allowed himself to be a little selfish, he could keep this man here a little longer, just to talk about how cold the weather was, without once dragging his film career into it.
But wasn’t he always supposed to do the right thing?
“Sorry. I’m interrupting you. I’m sure you have something important to get back to inside,” Cooper said, already about to leave, when Robert stepped forward, only a pace, and blocked his path.
And somehow, he might’ve been the only person in years Cooper didn’t mind doing that.
“No, no. I just arrived, and my presence here isn’t exactly… cherished.” His smile sharpened faintly. “If you’d like company, for a few minutes or a few hours, I’m available.”
Cooper thought of Barb: how she might be looking for him, how worried she might be if he disappeared for a couple hours. And then he realized those were fantasies. Barb was a working woman, and that was exactly what she’d be doing tonight. If she looked for him at all, it would be because she needed an accessory to hang off her arm. He didn’t blame her. But God, he needed air.
“I could use some company, Robert. It’s true.” Cooper hesitated, then smiled. “Would you be my new friend? Just for tonight?”
“It would be my pleasure, Cooper.”
•••
Cooper took him far away; he drove and drove until, a few streets away, the shrill noise of a small, crowded fair filled his ears. He drove a little farther, and then he saw it, glowing with colored lights and he laughed.
It had been so long since he’d been to one, not even for his daughter. There simply hadn’t been time for family outings anymore.
“Well, Robert,” he said, still amused, “I hope no one reports you missing.”
Robert, who had turned to see what had made Cooper laugh, looked back at him.
“Is that where you want to go?”
“Exactly.” Cooper started climbing out of the car with momentum, and then, out of sheer habit, he opened Robert’s door too. Taking his hand to coax him out, he said, “You’re never wrong.”
And Cooper could get used to the way Robert’s mustache lifted every time he smiled awkwardly; it looked like the only way he knew how.
They stepped into the fair, slipping into the crowd, walking side by side so they wouldn’t lose each other. Robert let Cooper lead him, and Cooper couldn’t get over the fact that people brushed past him without stopping him.
Why didn’t he do this more often?
“Where do you want to go?” Robert shouted so Cooper could hear him over the noise.
Cooper turned to him with a huge grin and yelled back:
“There!”
It was the classic shooting gallery.
The booth was crowned with a row of warm bulbs that flickered with the same nervous energy Cooper carried in his chest. Rifles hung from metal hooks, a wall of stacked cans waited, and a man in a cap shouted out deals.
“Knock down three and win a prize! Knock down five and take the big one! Just a few bucks, folks!”
Cooper stepped closer while Robert followed, watching him, noticing how Cooper didn’t seem to be thinking about anything except right now.
“You like this?” Robert asked.
Cooper picked up one of the rifles and weighed it in his hands, remembering what it was like to feel a weapon there.
Always to protect others.
“I love it.”
“And are you good?”
Cooper glanced sideways, that mischievous look on his face already turning dangerous.
“Man, I fought in the war. Wanna bet?”
Robert lifted an eyebrow.
“You do?”
“Yeah.” Cooper tipped his chin toward the prizes hanging from the ceiling, cheap, bright toys, plushies with huge eyes, and in the center, one ridiculously oversized prize: a cloth cowboy with a crooked hat and a stupid smile. “If I knock down five, you get the big one.”
Robert followed his gaze.
“I don’t need it.”
“Neither do I,” Cooper said. “But I want to win it for you.”
The booth attendant jumped in, doing his job.
“Five cans? That’s tough, buddy.”
Cooper flashed him the same charming smile that had sold vaults and happiness across the country.
“Leave it to me.”
“All right, all right.” The man handed him a handful of pellets and held out his palm. “Pay first.”
Cooper was already reaching into his pocket when Robert stepped in with a bill.
Cooper stared at him, surprised.
“What are you doing?”
“Let me sponsor you today,” Robert said calmly.
Cooper snorted and squared himself in front of the cans, shoulders loose, far too confident for someone who hadn’t held a rifle in God knows how long. He braced the stock against his shoulder, closed one eye… and fired.
The first can barely moved.
Cooper blinked, incredulous.
He fired again.
The second can trembled. That was all.
The third pellet hit the edge and ricocheted with a humiliating clink.
Someone behind them laughed.
Cooper lowered the rifle, offended, and then...
Well. That could happen to anyone.
“Okay.” He ran a hand through his hair, still baffled. “Okay. That doesn’t count.”
“Doesn’t count?” Robert echoed, something strange brightening in his eyes, almost warm. The kind of expression Cooper probably wouldn’t have noticed anywhere else, under any other light. “I’m afraid you’re right. That was your warm-up, wasn’t it?”
“Exactly.”
Robert refused to let the moment deflate Cooper’s mood, so he held out another bill to the man in the cap, who was still grinning.
“Give him another round.”
The attendant handed Cooper another handful of pellets and watched.
“Come on, Cooper. Don’t disappoint me,” Robert murmured near his ear, his low tone sending a sharp shiver up Cooper’s skin.
This time, Cooper didn’t miss a single shot.
The attendant fell silent, his smile wiped clean off his face.
Cooper lowered the rifle with a crooked grin, as if it hadn’t been anything special. Robert looked at him with something like pride, and then, like he couldn’t help himself, he stepped in and gave Cooper a light shove in the arm.
The attendant finally recovered enough to unhook the big prize: the cloth cowboy with the stupid smile. He handed it to Cooper with reluctant resignation.
“There you go, sir. The big one.”
Cooper held it for a moment, then offered it to its rightful owner.
“A bet’s a bet.”
“That’s correct.” Robert accepted the doll and took a moment to inspect it, running his fingertips along the dark stitching that framed the cowboy’s grin before looking back at Cooper. “Though I still can’t see how this could possibly be useful to me.”
“You’ll figure it out.”
“In fact, I believe it’ll be quite inconvenient to carry this around for the rest of our trip through the fair.”
“Then give it to a kid.”
“No, no.” Robert adjusted the cowboy under his arm. “I’ll keep it. As proof of our friendship.”
It took only seconds for Robert to catch up to Cooper again. He quickened his pace, uneasy at the thought of losing him in the crowd, and Cooper, so he wouldn’t lose Robert either, grabbed him by the shoulders and shouted to be heard.
“Are you a sweet person or a salty one? Do you like cotton candy?” Cooper asked, tilting his head like he could read Robert’s soul in a single glance. “I think you do.”
And before Robert could answer, Cooper was already moving toward one of the carts.
“One cotton candy, please.”
He paid without thinking and handed it to Robert.
“I don’t… I really shouldn’t,” Robert stammered, refusing with automatic politeness.
“Well, I bought it for you. I’m not really craving it.”
Robert stared a moment, eyes flicking between the cotton candy and Cooper’s face.
“I’ll take it.”
Cooper watched Robert’s expression twist into something amused when it melted on his tongue.
“No, it’s okay,” Cooper laughed, unable to resist the absurd image of a distinguished man in a suit trying cotton candy. “If you don’t like it, you don’t have to eat it.”
“It’s fine. Just very sweet.” Robert paused. “What do we do now?”
Cooper looked around, and in the distance he spotted the bumper cars.
“Are you a competitive man, Robert?”
Robert lifted his gaze from the cotton candy and fixed it on him.
“Most of the time, yes.”
“Good. Because I’m going to need a man like you.”
When they reached the entrance, the attendant waved them toward two empty cars, just as the metal gate opened and the previous group spilled out laughing, hair a mess, cheeks flushed.
Cooper picked one without thinking: red, number seven. Robert, though, paused, studying the track.
Cooper was already buckling his seatbelt when he noticed.
“What are you doing, man?” he shouted over the engine’s noise. “Just pick one and sit down!”
“Not if I want to win.”
When Robert finally climbed into his car, dark blue, number three, he sat far too straight for something this simple.
From his seat, Cooper called out:
“What were you doing over there?”
Robert looked at him like Cooper was a child.
“Calculating your odds of losing.”
Cooper barked out a laugh.
“Oh yeah? I can do math too.”
“I highly doubt it!” Robert seized the chance to yell back. “May the best man win!”
The light turned green, and the cars lurched forward with an electric buzz Cooper felt in his bones. He hit the accelerator like he meant to tear straight across the whole track, but Robert moved slowly, calm and deliberate, letting everyone crash into each other first while he slid to the side with calculated elegance, studying the movements of his prey.
Cooper frowned when he saw him.
“Don’t get clever!” he shouted, yanking the wheel toward him.
Robert saw him coming and didn’t move at first. He waited with maddening patience, measuring distance, and when Cooper thought he’d won, Robert turned sharply at the last second, letting Cooper shoot past and slam into nothing, only to crash head-on into another car that appeared out of nowhere, jolting him from head to toe.
“Fuck!” Cooper laughed, more surprised than angry.
Robert lifted a hand, like he was waving from some higher place.
Cooper opened his mouth, indignant, but all that came out was another laugh.
“Who the hell are you?”
Robert shrugged over the wheel.
“I like math.”
Cooper tightened his grip on the steering wheel, grinning wide. Adrenaline lit his blood.
“Alright.” He leaned forward like it would make him faster. “Alright. I always hated it.”
He slammed the accelerator again without warning and plunged straight into the chaos, crashing into anyone who got in his way. A few teenagers complained, others leaned into it, and Cooper couldn’t stop smiling like he’d forgotten there was a whole other life outside this track.
And then he saw it, Robert steering toward a corner, using the same strategy Cooper was starting to recognize. Cooper understood instantly: that was what good players did. Corner you.
He swerved hard, tires skidding on the glossy floor, and shot forward to intercept him. Robert looked up, and for the first time, his expression cracked into a spark of real excitement, like he’d just remembered this could actually be fun.
“Don’t even think about it!” Cooper yelled, slamming into him from the side.
The blue car jolted. Robert half-smiled, half-groaned, but the thing was, his eyes lifted, locking straight onto Cooper’s dark irises, which in that moment seemed to swallow every light in the place.
Cooper stared back, triumphant.
“Not so smart now, huh?”
“Ah…” Robert said, and for the first time his voice sounded slightly off-balance. “So that’s how we’re playing.”
And then Robert did something Cooper didn’t expect: he stopped playing carefully.
He stomped the accelerator with ridiculous force for a stupid fair ride, and the blue car shot forward, plowing into one car, then another, then another, without hesitation, without regret. He didn’t apologize. He didn’t even glance back at who he’d hit.
Cooper watched him and went still for a second, frozen, like he’d just discovered something new and dangerous in Robert. And God knew he’d be a liar if he said it didn’t thrill him.
Though right now, it left him breathless.
“Robert…”
But when Cooper realized Robert wasn’t slowing down, and fully intended to smash into him without mercy, he bolted.
“Oh, no, no, no” Cooper muttered, laughing and swearing as Robert chased him around the track.
On a tight curve, Cooper caught him and shoved him into the metal wall, pinning him there for a heartbeat. Then he leaned in with that shameless grin, hair tousled from the motion.
“Got you.”
Robert looked at him. His mustache lifted with one of those little smiles again.
“You do.”
Robert held his gaze without blinking, perfectly still in the middle of all that noise while everything else kept spinning and crashing around them, and Cooper felt a thought settle into place in his mind with unsettling clarity.
He didn’t want to go back to the party. Not if there was a version of himself here that could stay with Robert.
The metal gate opened with a screech, and the attendant waved them out. That was what snapped Cooper out of it.
He fumbled with the seatbelt and jumped out like the engine was still vibrating in his legs.
Robert took a second longer. He stood, smoothing his jacket. The giant cowboy doll was still tucked under his arm, giving him an unintentionally ridiculous look.
“Go ahead,” Robert said at last, pointing toward the exit. “I’ll follow you.”
•••
And Cooper knew it was all going too well. He’d had too many chances to be carefree, to be normal… and he’d taken every one of them. But that didn’t mean he could stay invisible forever.
He knew it the moment they stopped him.
“There he is, there he is! Cooper Howard!” someone shouted, and a group of friends crowded in, shoving each other excitedly.
Cooper froze, resigned, wearing that automatic smile he’d learned to give fans. Robert was still there too, standing at his side, watching them.
“Thumb up! Do your thing!” one of them yelled, laughing.
And then, like a belated impulse, Cooper grabbed Robert’s hand and made them run.
“Let’s go.”
Robert reacted instantly without a question, letting himself be pulled along, and the world became one thing: colored lights in the edges of his vision, distorted music, shouts behind them, the sharp slap of their footsteps against the ground. Cooper pushed through people without meaning to, apologized without looking back, and still he couldn’t stop. Not because he was afraid, no, but because something about being chased made him feel alive.
Running, straight into the arms of what he used to be.
“Cooper! Cooper, wait!” he heard the group call after him, but he didn’t care. His legs couldn’t slow down the momentum of his racing heart.
Robert’s palm in his hand felt heavy and steady, even with the light grip he held him with. And then Cooper burst out laughing, one laugh, then another, until he couldn’t stop. When it finally took him completely, free and effortless, he let go of Robert’s hand just to throw his arms up and feel the cold air cut through him.
The wind hit his face, sharp and delicious, and for a second he forgot who he was, why he was running, everything.
He felt like he could fly.
Robert glanced at him, utterly captivated. He sped up to catch him, grabbed his wrist again… and didn’t let go.
They ran until the noise fell behind them, until the air stopped tasting like sugar. In the end they reached a nearly dark park, where there were barely any people, and the shadows of the trees swallowed them with mercy.
“How do you feel?” Robert asked, walking slowly behind Cooper.
They’d already let go of each other’s hands; now they were just walking down the park’s lonely path.
“Great… fucking great. You, my friend…” Cooper cupped his face with an urgency he hadn’t even realized he was carrying.
His palms were cold from the night air, from running, from the adrenaline still pulsing in his wrists… and yet Robert’s skin beneath his hands felt warm and grounding, as if Robert kept heat tucked under his skin, as if the cold could never quite reach him. Cooper’s thumbs barely brushed along the line of his jaw. He noticed the faint texture of Robert’s mustache when he pressed his hands more firmly against his face, the way Robert’s expression tightened, but he didn’t pull away, only let himself be touched.
Cooper looked into his eyes and forgot the park, forgot the world. The darkness seemed to fold around them, sealing them off in a bubble made of shallow breaths and silence. The world could burn down right now and Cooper would still only feel Robert’s warmth rising into his hands, slipping through his fingers like something dangerous and intimate.
Robert only looked back at him, but it felt as though a thousand stars had finally decided to light him up.
And Cooper felt something hit him in the chest when he realized Robert was letting him hold him like this.
“You’re my accomplice,” Cooper whispered, his voice coming out lower than he meant it to. “There’s no one else I can do this with.”
“We’re both men who don’t quite belong,” Robert said after a moment, making no move to pull away, “which is why I think we fit together so well, Cooper.”