Chapter Text
The teleporter goes up faster than MacCready thinks possible. All of Sanctuary contributes, following Sturges’ instructions to the letter. Each person assigned a place, a task.
All the scaving MacCready and Piper did in the weeks prior pay off. They have everything they need to make this work. MacCready’s job now is just to strip old copper wire from its insulation. So he sits for hours, untangling long cords and ripping the rubber off with fine pliers. He suspects he ended up with this particular job because he has small hands. Piper gets to work on cutting the wire up into the right lengths and then delivering it to the team that needs it to run electricity from each terminal and back.
They still haven’t tried turning the contraption on. It’s bigger than MacCready thought it would be, standing almost eleven feet high at the tallest point. Three long legs that stretch from the glass dome above all the way back down to the platform. It’s attached to two separate terminals that they can only cover with heavy plastic sheets overnight. If it rains, he’s not sure what they’ll have to do to keep the electrics dry.
Three new generators are built to power the thing, when they’re all on, it turns Sanctuary into a smoggy mess. But if that’s the amount of power this is going to take to get the teleporter running, not much they can do about that. The smoke burns the inside of MacCready’s nostrils.
As the date approaches, a man who MacCready has never seen before comes to Sanctuary. He’s tall and lean, dressed in overalls and a hat with many lenses. Weiss calls him ‘Tink.’ He laughs a lot and sticks close to Weiss’ side. He tries to make Danse smile.
MacCready goes back to stripping wires. Though he doubts they’ll need much more.
“You can stop, you know?” Nick sits next to him on the ground, knees bent and bumping against the insides of his elbows. After a moment, his body heats up at MacCready’s side. “I think we have more than we need.”
MacCready tosses down the cutters. “He’s going to turn it on tomorrow,” MacCready is sure of it.
Nick nods, throwing his arms over his knees instead, letting them hang over his shins. “I’m certain.”
“Are you going with him?” If Nick goes, MacCready worries it will be the last time he sees him. He can’t believe anyone is coming back from the Institute. Weiss has led them all on a very expensive, very elaborate suicide mission. But at least they tried.
“No. I’m not. No one is,” Nick stares at the hulking beast in the center of Sanctuary. Like some nightmarish torture device. “Just Weiss.”
MacCready breathes easier, assured that Nick isn’t going. He’s not stupid enough to risk himself. But they’ve come so far along this path. If Weiss were to ask for volunteers, MacCready doesn’t know. Maybe he would offer himself up, if the options were between himself and Nick.
Lighting his cigarette, Nick keeps talking. “We got confirmation already that the Brotherhood knows.”
“Of course they do,” MacCready scowls. “They don’t care about him. They’re just using him.”
“True, but Weiss knows as much. He’s known this whole time.” Nick puts his cigarette out in the dirt. It’s not finished, not even close. Reaching his hand for MacCready’s, they sit together. MacCready rests his head on Nick’s shoulder. “The moment of truth, I suppose.”
MacCready exhales, “Yeah.”
--
Privacy is hard to come by. There’s a lot of land that makes up Sanctuary, but still too few buildings. Most of the residents sleep in one large common building lined with cots along the walls. There are no individual rooms in the structure yet. All of their attention had to be shifted from rebuilding the settlement to constructing the teleporter.
MacCready keeps his boots on, waiting for Nick to arrive. Nick had something to discuss with Weiss. Again, he’s been excluded. But it’s not surprising. Nick and Weiss are friends. MacCready is still the hired help, even if he’s no longer getting paid.
No one else has come to bed yet. It’s just a little past dinner time. But Nick said he’d meet MacCready here.
Spring is breaking, and he doesn’t need so many sweaters anymore. MacCready plays with the hem of his tee. He’s got a long sleeve on under that. Because it’s still not that warm in the Commonwealth. He’s not sure the chill of this winter will ever leave him.
“Robert?” Nick’s standing at the threshold of the building. His hands on either side of the doorframe. “Want to go for a walk?”
Walks with Nick tend to end in a particular way. So MacCready pushes himself out of bed, leaving his duster behind. They close up the building behind them. Most of the settlers and Weiss’ friends are still bustling through the garage and kitchen and campfire. Trying to make the best of things, before everything potentially falls to apart again. But maybe MacCready is just being a pessimist.
Nick takes his hand and they walk out to the edge of Sanctuary, where the buildings have been stripped bare but nothing new has been put into place yet. This settlement could be huge, dozens of people safe upon the hill. There will always be raiders, and mutants, and ferals. There will always be things that want to kill them. But MacCready is already happy for those who may find a home here.
It won’t be his home, though.
“Clear night,” Nick observes, squeezing MacCready’s hand.
“Yeah.”
“You’re not cold?” he asks.
MacCready doesn’t mind nipping at such obvious bait. He wants to get hooked. “A little.”
Nick shucks off his trenchcoat. Draping it over MacCready’s shoulders, he stands in place behind him, wrapping his arms around too. Heat radiates from his chest, warming MacCready’s back. Crossing his arms over his chest, MacCready holds onto Nick’s arms too.
They stand like that, watching the moon over the remains of Boston. The quiet sounds of the settlers blurring together.
“I wish I could be a better man.” Nick cranes his neck down to kiss the side of MacCready’s head. His voice is still there, at his ear. “I wish I could be what you need.”
“You are,” MacCready looks for the right words. Too often, they evade him. “I haven’t earned any of this. But I’ve been so lucky. Some people don’t get to love, even once. Here I am, a killer, a liar, a cheat, and I’ve gotten to feel it twice.” It’s irrelevant if Nick loves him back, because sometimes, his own affections are enough to sustain him. That Nick likes him, enjoys his company, wants him, is satisfied. That’s enough that MacCready can be happy. Because, yeah, some people don’t even get this.
Nick sighs, “Did you eat enough?”
Smiling, MacCready responds, “I think so.”
“You're not nearly as terrible as you think you are,” Nick says. Doesn't matter if that's true or not. The truth is only important in so far as someone believes it. And MacCready is pretty sure Nick believes his own words, because he's not prone to lying. Concealing the truth, maybe, but not outright lies.
“And you're not nearly as cold.”
“Yeah, well,” Nick bites back, “way to treat your own personal space heater.”
MacCready turns in the circle of Nick’s arms, careful to keep the trench over his shoulders. Nick's eyes are quite literally brighter than the moon. There are only two settings. On and off. No half-lidded in between. No cloudy tears. No uncertainty. Oh, Nick’s brow can furrow, he can raise an eyebrow when he's shocked. But, though he has eyelids, he doesn't use them to blink. MacCready has never seen him shut his eyes, only turn them off.
“Close your eyes,” MacCready’s voice is just above a whisper.
Nick shakes his head, “They don't work like that any more. Haven't for a long time.”
“Just try,” MacCready swallows, “please.”
Nick humors him, digging his fingers into MacCready’s hips and standing up a little straighter. From the quirk of his lip, Nick just looks so ready to prove MacCready wrong. But, with an uncanny naturalness, Nick’s eyelids shut. But his eyes are so bright, MacCready can still make out the warm yellow glow in the darkness of the night, illuminating the thin layer of silicone eyelids. MacCready reaches up, pressing the pads of his fingers lightly against Nick’s lid, watching as the light reaches his finger tips.
“We’re so weird,” MacCready laughs. They've both accepted this. At least, it's something like acceptance.
With his eyes still shut, Nick smiles, his lips parting slightly. “Weird, ugly, and broken down. What a set of winners.” He opens his eyes again, catching MacCready staring.
MacCready tells himself that this will be the last time he says it. But he's a liar. So it won't be. “I love you.”
Nick blinks, as if he's realized something about himself. The way he's been fit together. What's the word? Assemblage? Of metal and plastics and silicone and whatever else. MacCready doesn't even know. Oh, human. Because Nick will always be, in part, human.
“I love you too, Bobby,” Nick says.
MacCready forgets to breathe, “Don't lie to me.” The only lies he’ll accept anymore are his own.
“I love you,” leaning forward, Nick kisses him, until they breathe. They don't stop, even as Nick scrapes his fingers across MacCready’s abdomen. The friction nearly makes MacCready laugh, but he moans instead, into Nick’s mouth, sputtering vibrations through them both. “It's too cold out here,” Nick looks around.
“I'm fine,” MacCready assures, his hands gripping onto the back of Nick’s waistband,
“Fine enough for me to fuck you in the dirt?” Nick teases, “because if I don't get you inside.”
MacCready’s ears flush. “More private out here.” Too many people at the settlement are still awake. And with tomorrow's big event, they're unlikely to settle down. They'll never find space where they can be alone.
Nick smirks, “Remember you asked for it.”
It really is too cold to strip all the way down, but Nick takes his trench from MacCready’s shoulders, spreading it on the ground. He sits down first, legs stuck out straight, before coaxing MacCready to spread his legs over his hips. Pulling at MacCready’s zipper, he manages to work his erection out.
Nick’s hand is warm against his cock, stroking it firmly, adjusting his rhythm until MacCready squirms in his lap. With a hand at his back, Nick holds MacCready against him, keeping their bodies close. Nick whispers in his ear, “We’re in this storm together. I love you.”
“I love you,” MacCready touches inside Nick’s neck, searching out a new sensation. He always finds something new. Something surprising, makes him rethink his assumptions. “Love you.”
Nick smiles as MacCready shudders against him. He's going to ruin both their clothes, but he doesn't care. Nick feels too good, the heat of his body, the pressure of his hand. He's too solid and real. And he loves him, even if that love is run through of fissures. The damage of their lives so far. But that dismisses nothing. Because all they have are scraps. A world of ruin. But that also means they can build anything from the wreckage, as long as they try. Nothing is new anymore. But old things have value too. Pieced together affections.
MacCready rests his head against Nick’s shoulder, trying to catch his breath. Nick gently tucks him back into his slacks, but doesn't bother with the zipper. Uses his time to kiss the side of MacCready’s head instead, coming around to his cheek, his lips.
--
Weiss takes very little with him. His laser pistol. Sixty rounds. Two tins of mentats. His pipboy.
The sky is clear and the air cold as they stand around the teleporter. Tinker Tom is at one console, Sturges at the other. It takes both of them to run the machine, apparently. MacCready won't pretend to know how it works.
Danse’s hand is wrapped around Weiss’, his eyes full of worry and rage in equal measure. Very rarely does MacCready concede he understands Danse. But this might be one of those times. MacCready can't hear their conversation. But he can guess, from the way Danse wrenches Weiss’ arm. Weiss pulls away, his voice louder. “I'm the only one who can do this.”
Danse’s mouth opens, then shuts. He says something else.
Stepping in next to him, Nick takes MacCready’s hand. But he's not one to pull away. “The moment of truth.”
“For all of us,” MacCready agrees.
Weiss kisses Danse, open mouthed in front of all of Sanctuary. Under the endless sky. The hum of the teleporter coming to life drowns out the cries of crows.
For a moment, MacCready fears that Danse is going to throw himself into the machine as well, but he stays rooted in place as Weiss steps away, heading up the platform, hands jammed into his pinstriped slacks.
He doesn't say goodbye.
Just vanishes.
Turning his head, MacCready watches Nick’s face, yellow eyes still glued to where Weiss no longer stands. He blinks.