Chapter Text
The sky. A pale red as the sun threatens to set over the horizon of the commonwealth. It doesn’t get cold anymore, not the way that Nate says it used too. It feels like it’s been years since he had picked him up back in Goodneighbor, took out Winlock and Barnes, and found Duncan's cure. It had likely only been a few months.
MacCready owed Nate his life.
Which is why when Nate says, “It’s getting late RJ, let’s settle in a house and keep moving in the morning,” Mac trips over his feet a little. He owes him his life, he reminds himself.
“Sounds good, boss.”
They were already in Concord, heading back to sanctuary, so there were lots of places to bunker down for the night. They settled on a tall house with stairs on the outside, wrapping around to the second floor door. They settled in the room on top, Mac throwing their bags against the door and shoving the handle of a broken pipe pistol under as a doorstop. He turns around to Nate, already taking his armour off. Guess Mac was right. Again.
“Ight RJ, what’re ya waitin for?” Nate spoke nonchalantly, which Mac thinks might be the worst part. He wasn’t even aggressive, not that he was kind either, he was the perfect cocktail of melancholic barely-desire that made Mac feel smaller than he had in years. It was gunna be a rough night.
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Mac woke up first as usual. He sat up with a silent wince, looked to his left out the window at the darkness, then to his right at someone who made it all feel darker. He owed him his life. He stood up slowly, careful not to creak the bed, threw on his hat and duster, then tip-toed outside and down the stairs. When he got to the pavement of the road, he sat against the house and pulled out a cigarette. He got out his current lighter, flicking it harder each time that it didn’t light. His hips hurt. There were probably bruises all over his shoulders and sides.
“Fuck, seriously?” Now his fingers were starting to hurt too, but finally, as if hearing the typically clean speaking man curse, the lighter sparked and the flame didn’t go out instantly. He didn’t like that he had started cursing a little recently, but hey, what can he say? Nate puts him through enough crap to warrant it once in a while. He looked down at the cig in his mouth as brought the lighter close. He took a long drag. Exhaled, and watched the smoke float away, the wind blowing the direction he approximates the Capital Wasteland is in. He hoped it wouldn’t reach Duncan, a silly thought really, but still. He didn’t need his boy knowing how miserable he was right now.
He took a few more drags, before the sun started peaking at him from beyond the hills and buildings. He took a deep drag, exhaling out his nose, letting the burn in his sinuses bring him back to reality. What only could’ve been twenty minutes later at most, Mac heard Nate stretching, making that emmm sound he always made. A minute later the man is sitting against the wall with him. Mac passed him the cigarette, well over half gone. He saw Nate take a drag out of the corner of his eye, pressing it to his lips. Mac lit another for himself. Nate didn’t ask.