Whiskey Molotov
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“Hey Hancock.” Audrey looked up at him with that look on her face- the smug shit look that she got when she saw an ambush point that he didn’t and made a break for it before telling him what the fuck she was doing. That look usually meant he had about a second and a half to dodge whatever explosion was about to go down.
He couldn’t deny she was exciting, though.
“Yeah?”
“You got something on your face.”
Series
- Part 1 of Whiskey Molotov
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They approached the gates and Audrey frowned, stopping cold. “Danny isn’t here,” she said, scooting over to the guard’s usual spot.
“Lunch break?” Hancock suggested.
“Wouldn’t he have a replacement?” she asked, walking around his area like she was gunna find something.
“Guy probably just ducked out for a beer or something. There’s still guards out here, don’t worry about it,” he urged her. He was half afraid she would find something- that was her luck, that her first trip to Diamond City would involve some sort of fucking conspiracy.
Series
- Part 2 of Whiskey Molotov
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“Radiation’s a real bitch,” she said, shaking her head.
“She can’t leave everyone this good looking,” he said, grinning over at her. She leaned in and kissed him and his guts did that fluttery thing that he liked better than psycho.
“If anyone in the world was gunna turn out this handsome after being exposed to that many rads, I’m not really surprised it was you,” she said, and he got the weird feeling again like she meant it.
“Yeah, well, if it’s all the same let’s avoid any rad pits- I haven’t met a feral yet that I’d wanna look like,” he said, putting his arms around her as she dug through an old suitcase.
Series
- Part 3 of Whiskey Molotov
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“You tryna give a Ghoul a heart attack, sweetness?” Hancock asked, kissing Audrey’s hand. Her arm had been sprained from a tumble off a building after being surprised by a Mutie, and the big baby was afraid of needles which meant that stimpaks were a unique hell for her. She still hadn’t healed the injury even after Hancock had emptied rounds into the big ugly’s skull.
“I didn’t know there was a supermutant standing there,” she argued, her voice a little watery as he readied the medicine.
Series
- Part 4 of Whiskey Molotov
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“You’re freakin’ me out, Drey,” he told her from his seat across the room. She’d got him his very own chair for their weird cobbled together house at the Red Rocket. It was huge and cushy and he’d fallen asleep in it more than once. A real mayoral chair.
“Sorry.” It was a grunt and absolutely meaningless- Psycho sorrys weren’t worth shit, just like you never asked someone for a favour on Jet and never made a deal with a person who had Mentats crammed in their back pockets.
“You don’t gotta be sorry, I’m just a little concerned is all,” he said, gesturing for her to sit with him. She threw herself down on a nearby mattress instead, falling still but tense as a live wire and glaring out at nothing.
Series
- Part 5 of Whiskey Molotov
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“You’re gunna kill me, hollerin’ like that,” he said as he made his way down the stairs.
“You say that about everything I do,” she protested, still enchanted by whatever was inside the dome. She was clicking buttons frantically but he didn’t think she was getting anywhere.
“Kind of hoping if I go it’ll be because of a perfect ten,” he said, nudging her as he finally got down the stairs.
Series
- Part 6 of Whiskey Molotov
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Being horizontal for longer than sixteen seconds was making her sleepy and that was tugging so hard on his heart strings. Prettiest damn person in the whole fucking wastes of America and she looked at his mess and decided he was just her type. He figured whenever he did bite it, the first thing he was gunna do was look Nate Allcock up in the afterlife; the only other guy in all of history lucky enough to experience the full Audrey package (plus, who’d have better dirt on her?).
(He had to quit thinking about her husband though because then he got to wondering if the guy was as good looking as his wife was which led to a bunch of really weird shit to think about when you’re high- and probably when you weren’t, too.)
“Sleep it off, sunshine. I’ll keep watch,” he said, letting his limbs relax.
Series
- Part 7 of Whiskey Molotov
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Mentats were mostly for fun— she’d been a government hacker, a law student, and an amateur hacker that managed to avoid the wrath of her former bosses, so it was easy enough for her to talk circles around someone. That didn’t stop her from popping one while they were crouched under an overhang in the rain and looking over at him and grinning. Does this make me sound smart? On a scale of one to ten how willing would you be to take a bullet for me if I asked?
‘Bout a seven, he always replied.
Give me stronger stuff, then.Series
- Part 8 of Whiskey Molotov
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No one said anything and the soldier seemed torn between leaving to go check on the situation and monitoring them. “They aren’t hurting anyone,” Drey said. He looked at her. “I reprogrammed them to talk, not to shoot.” Silence rang through the room as the soldier strained to listen in to what was going on above ground. There weren’t gunshots or the buzzing of chainsaws or that crackling noise that the flame throwers made.
“What did you reprogram them to say?” the soldier asked. Audrey held out the script she’d painstakingly typed out into the system— it was mostly buzz phrases to piss off the commissioned officers present, but there were a… few lines that she was married to. “War never changes…” he read aloud, and she squared her shoulders.
Series
- Part 9 of Whiskey Molotov
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“You killed Sonya!” Mel shrieked while she tried to get the ghoul’s grey matter off her rifle. It was really indicative of her new environment that she had a special cloth now used solely for getting body parts off of herself. “She was just starting to learn and you shot her!”
“I shot the ghoul!” Audrey insisted, mildly offended that he was second-guessing her aim.
“The .50 in her chassis suggests otherwise.” Mel flicked the bullet at her and she scowled. So she was a little off. Mel used a fucking knife— he could fuck right off about her aim.
“How the hell are we supposed to take down the walls now?” Bobbi demanded, lifting herself from a cool lean against a crumbling subway pillar.
“Jesus just patch up the robot,” Audrey insisted, gesturing around.
Series
- Part 10 of Whiskey Molotov
- Language:
- English
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She started sewing after he got into the Jet for the evening, with Shaun only just in bed on the floor underneath them. He was pretty content to just watch her, ‘til he realized how big the coat she was putting together was. “How many people you plannin’ on puttin’ in there?” he asked groggily. She froze like she just realized he was there.
“J-Just… it’s a coat,” she argued.
“Big one,” he agreed. She looked down, then back up at him. “Too big for you.”
“Ain’t for me.”
Series
- Part 11 of Whiskey Molotov
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“Whoa, whoa. Time out.” Audrey jumped a little, terror making her limbs feel electric and out of her control. A man came out of the alley— a very, very sick man if she knew anything about medicine. He didn’t… seem ill, but he definitely looked it. His skin was pulled tight over his face and seemed to be tearing, and his eyes were entirely black. He was missing a nose and his ears were fused to the sides of his head, both of which were much more obvious clues.
He was also wearing some kind of American Revolution costume, but she could only try to explain so many weird fucking things in her head at once.
Series
- Part 12 of Whiskey Molotov
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There wasn’t a better feeling on earth than her all around him when he was high. It was better not being sober because then John could focus on her— how soft her skin was (relatively speaking, of course), all the warmth that seeped into his bones, the cigarette smoke and oil smell of her. “You shouldn’t be sorry,” she said, running her hand down his side. “You don’t have to be.”
“Third night in a row I woke you up like that,” he argued, trying to keep his voice down.
“You know I don’t mind,” she scolded, kissing up his neck.
Series
- Part 13 of Whiskey Molotov
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He liked when she’d said his name, even though it felt less like Hancock and more like he’d wanted McDonough to be. It was different than ma hollering for him on the docks or his dickshit brother bitching it a room over. He’d teased her at first with some whisper my naked name, Sunshine, but then she’d leaned in and pressed it right against his ear and… yeah. Never any stepping back required with Audrey— he’d keep as close as goddamn possible to her at all times.
Series
- Part 14 of Whiskey Molotov
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“Kill him, then. A raider is a raider,” Desdemona said, lighting a cigarette. “That’s the end of it, Fixer. This is the biggest deal in the history of our organization and it’s on you.” She shrank back down again, her shoulders all hunched and her back lowered. Deacon nudged her and she nudged him back, turning on her heel. “Fixer?”
“Going out for a smoke,” she reported, breezing by Hancock like he wasn’t even there. He fell into step behind her, waving Deacon away. The man was too caught up in this Railroad business and had the big deal written across his face. Drey just needed someone who would follow her.
Series
- Part 15 of Whiskey Molotov
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When Martha looked at John after his brother was elected mayor, after the ghouls had been chased out and he’d stormed out of the office after begging him to call this whole nightmare off… she wished she could have done more for him. He was still young but he was still just as wounded as he had ever been. The tears streaming down his face weren’t sadness— it was anger. He’d broken like a dam and just like he shouldered all the sadness and unfairness of the world, he took on its rage as well. He carried pain and fury and Martha wished she could have known how to help him because he was never going to speak to his brother again.
And when his bed was empty when she got up the next morning, she wondered if he would ever forgive her either.
Series
- Part 16 of Whiskey Molotov
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“Back before the war, the first thing they did to us was cut us off from each other.”
“The communists?”
“No, the government. You can commit a lot more war crimes if no one knows about them, and the people that do know can’t tell anyone. In the days leading up to the bomb I hadn’t spoken to anyone but Nate and a few neighbours for probably about a month,” she explained. “So what the Commonwealth needs, besides the concept of basic human dignity, is open communication.”
Series
- Part 17 of Whiskey Molotov
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Audrey pulled the trigger and the mirelurk fell back into the ocean before the turrets could turn their clunky heads to see it. Somewhere off to the west she could hear Shaun, Cait, and Longfellow messing around with an old terminal the kid wanted to take apart, and Deacon had wanted to stay at Acadia for a while longer. He was suspicious, the sky was blue, and water was still wet. With all of them accounted for, that left…
“All right Sunshine, I was gunna let you work it out by yourself but that was two hours ago,” Hancock announced, scrambling up on the roof of the cabin beside her.
Series
- Part 18 of Whiskey Molotov
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His body swung heavily and Hancock opened his mouth. “Of the people, for the people,” he spat out with hardly any air in his lungs to say it. Adrenaline pumped through him, piloting him in lieu of brainpower.
“Who the fuck are you?” one guy asked, and Hancock checked the urge to shove a gun in his face. That was the easy way and he hadn’t gone out in the ruins with Fahrenheit and her team because he wanted to sit his ass squarely on the easy way.
“Your new fucking mayor,” he declared. “And we’re gunna change some shit up."
Series
- Part 19 of Whiskey Molotov
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“I have to water the flowers,” she said, turning to face him. The flowers in question were mostly relocated hubflower and thistle for various chems— not the sort of garden Audrey would have ever pictured herself starting, but there she was.
“It’s raining,” John reminded her, and… that was a fair point.
He had the decency to cuddle when she crawled back into bed, at least.
Series
- Part 20 of Whiskey Molotov