#vault nostalgia. just chilling. they go out dancing. its a great time

[rearranging-deck-chairs]

no one's done this one yet?

[doublerumnukacola]

Second Last Dance

They emerged from the State House the sound of the crowds around them a little overwhelming. She’d never seen Good Neighbor this packed. It was suffocating for her to be surrounded by the drunken masses.

Then they caught sight of Hancock and the crowd surged towards them. Sole stepped backwards to the State House as Hancock stepped forward, passing out what remained of his chem stash like he was giving out candy.

It felt exactly like pre-war Halloween, complete with kids in costumes. Some were hobos, gangsters, clowns, zombies… And to think the latter was the most friendly of the bunch. She leant against the disintegrating white paint of the ancient building as the last of the Mentats were distributed, the final tin having to be yanked from Hancocks leathery fingers. He gave a sigh as the crowd dispersed. Maybe in relief, or regret. She came up behind him, putting a hand on his shoulder.

“You look like you need a drink.” She noted, he turned to look back at her with a thin, tired, smile. “Maybe a few drinks, actually.”

“You don’t know the half of it, sister.” He admitted. “Haven’t had a straight drink in awhile. Usually spritze it up with a few Daytripper. For taste, of course.”

“Ohno, not tonight.” She chuckled, spinning him around to face her. “Doctors orders, you’re already pushing it with drink.” He shrugged, old habits die hard. She could tell she would have her work cut out for her. She was going to have to keep him away from temptation...

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The sky above GoodNeighbor was dotted with faint stars against a deep, dark blue. The Sun said its last goodbyes at the Horizon, lingering like an unwanted house guest. The lamp lights glowed, waiting to be spotlights for the party. Magnolia had moved outside the Rexford, music playing from an old prewar speaker Daisy’d had in her attic. The usual upbeat jazz set was playing with Mags lending her sultry voice.

Sole and Hancock were drinking on the balcony of the State House, in an attempt to keep him distracted from the slurry of chems making their way through the crowd. The rum tasted like medical disinfectant mixed with cinnamon, but it kept them happy enough.

“I gotta ask somethin’.” Hancock started, taking a swig from the clear glass bottle, the dark liquid rushing to meet him. “What was it like, before… All this?” She shrugged and glanced away. It was question she got a lot. She’d had a lot of time to think of a good answer.

“Honestly, not great.” She answered bluntly. He nearly choked on his next swig of drink, spluttering it on the party goers below them. She smirked as a few held up their hands, checking for rain with confused faces. Hancock turned to look at her, and she continued. “We had prisoner camps in our own country, secret police, not to mention Vault-Tech.” She mused, remembering what life had really been like. “At the time, I kept my head down. I told myself it would all change after the war… I guess I was right...” Her hands gripped the railing, the ancient wood was feeble beneath her fingers.

“Looking back though, how could I have done so little? I had friends taken in the night; my colleagues who had tried to defend innocent people accused of treason… And I did nothing.” She took a breath. “And here, in the wasteland, I make a difference.” She smiled over at Hancock. “And everything is different, people here, in Good Neighbor, they’re free. Really free. You would never have had that before the war. Not for long anyway...”

“It’s funny…” He smiled back at her, “Daisy always makes it sound like Heaven on Earth...”

“Daisy’s had a long time to romanticise it.” Sole sighed. “For me, it’s just been a couple months...” Something about those words stuck in her throat. Months, centuries… What’s the difference?

Hancock could have kicked himself. He finally had a moment to himself with Sole, and he has to bring the mood down with a question like that. His stomach was turning, not quite agreeing with the rum and snack cakes. Or maybe it was something else. Something that hadn’t twisted his insides in awhile. Sole was looking forlorn at the street below, was it too late?

Then a commotion on the street caught his attention. The music stopped, the speakers softening to a silence. Kent was talking to Magnolia excitedly, holding some tapes in his hand.

“What’s going on there?” Sole asked, eyes brightening a little with curiosity.

“Not sure,” Hancock admitted, “Some scavver sold him some old broken Silver Shroud tapes. Guess he got them working.” She looked over at him in surprise. “Yeah, Kent’s actually pretty good with fixing Holotapes. It’s how he’s gotten all those old radio plays.” Her fingers flitted over her Pipboy for a moment, before returning to the railing. Hancock pretended not to notice.

“You think we’re about to hear another tale of the Shroud?” She asked with a small smile. “I should have dressed for the occasion.” His eyes dipped over the rose pink dress.

“Oh, I think you’re dressed just fine...” He muttered. Suddenly the street burst into music, and instead of Magnolia, sweet little Kent was stood at the mic. The tune sounded familiar, a tinny trumpet playing. The nostalgia made her smile.

Heaven, I'm in heaven, And my heart beats so that I can hardly speak And I seem to find the happiness I seek When we're out together dancing, cheek to cheek

There was a tap at her shoulder, she looked back at Hancock holding a hand out to her. Her smile faltered. He kept his hand out, but there was a slight tremble to his fingers.

“Can’t help staring, huh?” He chuckled, a nervous edge to his voice.

Heaven, I'm in heaven, And the cares that hang around me through the week Seem to vanish like a gambler's lucky streak When we're out together dancing, cheek to cheek

His hand started to fall, it was a stupid gesture. Why would a dame like that- Her fingers wrapped around his and he was pulled close. His heart nearly shot through his chest.

“We can’t waste a song like this, can we?” She smiled, one hand on his shoulder, the other holding his hand. He swallowed, but threw on a cocky grin.

“Whatever you say, sister.”

Oh! I love to climb a mountain, And to reach the highest peak, But it doesn't thrill me half as much As dancing cheek to cheek Oh! I love to go out fishing In a river or a creek, But I don't enjoy it half as much As dancing cheek to cheek

It was awkward, on that small balcony, two people used to a bigger dance floor. It could have been a waltz, or a tango. But all onlookers saw was two people tripping over each other’s feet, hands clinging loosely to the other as they held each other, laughing uncontrollably.

Dance with me I want my arm about you The charm about you Will carry me through to heaven I'm in heaven And my heart beats so that I can hardly speak And I seem to find the happiness I seek When we're out together dancing cheek to cheek

They could barely breathe, tumbling to the balcony floor. Holding their sides now as the laughter subsided. The music played on, but Kent was stepping off the small platform, handing the mic back to Magnolia. They’d just about missed his whole performance. They’d have to ask for an encore later.

“I think, we had better get down.” Hancock noted breathlessly. “Don’t think this old place was built to handle that kind of movement.” She smiled and nodded, rubbing out the soreness of her face from the laughter.

“Hey, thanks for that.” She said gratefully, pulling herself to her feet.

“Sure thing, Sister.” He said with a dismissive wave, “What are friends for?” Friends? He kicked himself as he followed her back into the State house. I mean, yeah, she’s his best friend. But he had the chance to make a move and he… He said they were just friends? What the hell was wrong with him?

“Hey, Hancock?” Sole called from his office. He looked over, and she was holding two cone shaped party hats. “I fished these from behind your sofa, want one?” He chuckled, shaking his head. “Not sure that would fit over the ‘ol tricorn…”

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The party was intense. As the night drew on, the top shelf liquor started to flow. The world seemed to spin for everyone. Magnolia sung on, and when her voice was at its limits, they put on Kents broadcast of the Silver Shroud, prompting some waggling eyebrows from Hancock to Sole. As the party waned, the drifters passing out one by one, the broadcast turned to Classical Radio. No one dared put on Diamond City around Sole, she tended to get a little shooty with the radios as soon as she heard Travis’s voice. By then, the liquor had all but run out, and the few left awake in Good Neighbor sat in the square, drinking nuka cola of all things.

Sole and Hancock were some of the few party goers left awake. They lay on the cobblestones of the square, looking up at the night sky. Hancock even had Fahrenheit shut off all the lamps so the stars would seem brighter, but left the Christmas lights on at Sole’s request. The air was cold, Sole’s jacket came in useful to keep off the chill as they lay still under the night sky. Sole couldn't help but glance from the sky to the ghoul beside her, who was animatedly telling her about the patterns in the stars, in his own way.

“... And that one is the bent frying pan.” Hancock continued, pointing up at a constellation. “My old man used to say it was part of a yao-gui in the sky, but I can't see it myself.”

“Funny, before the war it was the big dipper.” Sole added softly, returning her gaze to the stars in question.

“What the hell is a dipper?” Hancock demanded, genuinely perplexed. Sole shrugged her shoulders.

“I think it’s like a ladle.” She answered unsuredly.

“Oh yeah, I can see that.” Hancock said, squinting a bit.

“Nah, I liked yours better. People know what a bent frying pan is.” Sole admitted. She looked again at the stars. She raised her hand and pointed to a constellation with three bright stars and cornered with four more. “So what’s that one?”

“Well that’s easy.” Hancock answered smugly. “It's the Vault boy with his dick out.” Sole turned to look at Hancock incredulously. “What? You can see it right there! Just below those three stars is a flaccid cock! What did you used to call it?”

“Orion, and those three stars are his belt… And the one below are meant to be his… Knife.” Sole replied awkwardly. Hancock laughed. Yeah, ‘knife’ wasn't believable.

“So who’s Orion?” Hancock asked, stretching an arm out and putting it behind his head.

“Oh, I actually know this.” Sole gushed excitedly, sitting up and turning to him. “Orion was this hunter in ancient Greece, and he used to hunt with this goddess Artemis. But her brother got jealous and made a huge scorpion to kill him.” Sole leant forward, Hancock could tell she was getting to her favorite part, she always did that when telling stories. “In her grief, Artemis placed Orion in the sky so he could live forever in the stars. But her brother put the scorpion up there to chase him through the heavens for eternity, you know, like an asshole.”

“Fuck, so there are Rad-scorpions in the sky too?” Hancock asked incredulously. She smiled at the joke. He liked to think he could do better than that. “Ancient Greece, huh?” He continued. “Sounds familiar, is that like the lard Daisy uses in her mirelurk cakes?” Sole laughed and shook her head. “Yeah then I'm sticking to the naked Vault boy.” Sole shook her head, still grinning, and laid down again. Looking at the constellation again, she could completely see it. And now she could never UN-see it!

“Give me another one!” Hancock urged, giddy more from being over-tired than drunk. Sole shook her head.

“Those were the only ones I knew.” Sole sighed, yawning. She rested her eyes.

“Come on, you can't sleep here, you'll wake up feeling the way I look.” Hancock advised. He shakily got up, brushing the dust off his coat. “Here, let me help you.” He extended his hand once again, but he was in no shape to help anyone. Luckily she waved it away.

“Leave me alone…” She murmured. “It's comfy here…” He sighed. He couldn't carry her to save his life. He looked around for someone to help him, but everyone was either too tired, too stoned, or too Kleo.

Then he heard soft snores come from his feet. He looked down and she was out cold on the cobblestones. He knew from experience what waking up with a hangover felt like on these rocks, and it wasn't pleasant, but he wasn’t exactly Mr. Muscles…

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Macready was a coward and he knew it. He sat on Daisy’s back porch, smoking his last cigarette. The music had long since died down, and the revelers had passed out.

“You better be using an ashtray.” Daisy muttered beside him. She had a bottle of beer in her hand, leaning against the screen door behind her. The old lady may have been a serial complainer since he arrived, but she enjoyed the company.

“Sure thing,grandma.” He joked, tipping the end of the ash into a dingy ceramic ashtray. She was too tired to smack him for that comment, she could only grumble. There was a quiet as he took one last drag and ground out the cigarette, glowing embers dying in the blackened ash.

“You’re running out of time, Mac.” Daisy said softly. He crossed his arms. He knew she was right. Didn’t make it any easier.

“Yeah, yeah…”

“I mean it. If you want any future with her, you had better fix things soon.”

“And what if she’s over it?”

“Then you can at least apologise for being an ass.”

He was quiet, he did owe her that. He stood up, dusting off his pants. There were voices still in the square, he knew who they were, as much as he’d tried to ignore them. It was time he stopped running away.

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Then footsteps on the cobblestones caught his attention. He turned around to see Macready emerging from the alley. He nodded to Hancock as he approached, and scooped up Sole quietly. She barely stirred as he held her.

“Hiding in the dark? Trying to take sunglasse’s M.O.?” Hancock asked in annoyance. Macready didn't say a word, ignoring him as he shifted Sole’s weight so he could carry her more comfortably. There wasn't a damn thing Hancock could do. At least the bastard could get her to her room safe. Hancock leaned close, narrowing his coal black eyes.

“So much as a hair out of place when she wakes up, and I’ll make a wind chime out of your dick.” He hissed quietly. Macready furrowed his brow.

“How would you even do that?” Macready asked, more curious than threatened.

“I'm a creative guy.” Hancock answered darkly. Macready just shrugged and started towards the Rex. Hancock watched him go, silently seething. Had he lost his touch? I mean it all sounded pretty threatening. Maybe it was the party hat he had strapped to his head. Yeah that was probably it.