Chapter Text
Portia observed the Third Rail with a headache forming. Her and Preston had arrived around midday, greeted by Fahrenheit. The relationship forming between the Commonwealth Minuteman and the settlement of Goodneighbour was a point of pride for the General. They were welcomed warmly, and their brief meeting with the Ghoul Mayor who ran the town had been pleasant, if frustratingly shortlived. But as the weather soured, most of the town had gathered in the bar. And it was cramped.
Ensuring that Preston was indeed distracted by Magnolia, Portia slid a cigarette out of a pack someone left on the table and headed to the door, abandoning her coat for the sake of an unobserved getaway. She nodded at Ham as she headed up the stairs, and slipped out the door.
She instantly regretted leaving her coat behind, the wind was frigid and there were clumps of watery snow on the ground. She could see her breath as she dug around in her pockets for a lighter. She came up empty, and was about to head back inside, defeated, when a weight hit the wall next to her. Hancock twisted the wheel of his lighter and held it in front of her, rolling his cigarette between his thin lips as Portia drew the nicotine into her lungs.
He lit his cigarette, and flicked the lighter closed, sliding it into his jacket in a movement so fluid it had to be practiced. They smoked in companionable silence for a moment, Portia leaning her head against the brick wall. She eventually rolled her head to the side, fixing her eyes on her silent companion. His face in the portrait was familiar now, dark eyes, noseless and scarred.
“I wish you’d change your mind about joining us in Diamond City.” She said. “You’re the only leader of a settlement not coming. And the Minutemen could use you.”
He slid her a look, a smirk twisting across his face, “There’s not enough caps in the whole Commonwealth that would convince me to go inside the Great Green Jewel again.”
“Nothing could convince you?”
His eyes slid down her frame, and the smirk widened “I’m sure something could.”
Portia rolled her eyes, and elbowed him. He laughed roughly, and took another deep drag of his cigarette. “Besides Sunshine, I’ve already built my personality around one hat. I don’t think even a ghoul with my kind of charisma could make those minuteman specials work.”
Portia smiled around her cigarette for a moment, “Don’t let Preston hear you say that. He’s very proud of his hat.”
“And yet the General doesn’t wear one.” Hancock breathed a plume of smoke out, tendrils escaping through his exposed naval cavity.
Portia didn’t reply, just smiled and watched a handful of small snowflakes begin to fall around the streetlight. Another freezing night.
“Maybe it’s for the best that you don’t come to this meeting in Diamond City.” She said, flexing the fingers that weren’t clamped around her cigarette. Her fingertips were turning red. “I’ve seen your diplomacy in action, Mayor. I’ve stepped over the dead body of your diplomacy.”
He laughed deep in his throat at the comment. “Don’t flatter yourself General, Finn was on thin fucking ice before he decided to shake you down. I didn’t stab a man for a woman I’d just met.” He finally turned his head to meet her gaze, his black eyes crinkled at the corners as he grinned, smugly. “I’d strongly consider stabbing a man for you now, given the right incentives.”
Portia took her final drag of her cigarette, and dropped it onto the ground, crushing it beneath her heel. She looked back at Hancock, and breathed her final lung full of smoke out.
“Let me guess, Mayor Hancock, would that incentive happen to be wildly inappropriate?” His eyes flashed. “Not wildly. Perhaps not for polite company.”
Portia rolled her eyes again, and stuffed both her hands under her armpits. She glanced back at the metal door leading into the Third Rail. She really wasn’t ready to return back to that crowd yet. Hancock seemed to sense her hesitation, he tucked his hand back into his jacket and produced another cigarette. She accepted it, stamping her feet a little to get warm.
“Is there any polite company in Goodneighbour?” She busied herself with lighting the cigarette with Hancock’s proffered lighter, waiting for his usual flirtatious quip. Instead, when she looked up to return his lighter, she saw him watching as Daisy appeared around the corner, wrapped in a scarf and jacket.
“There’s some.” He said quietly. Portia hummed in agreement, waving as Daisy approached. “Quittin’ time?” Hancock asked her, offering Daisy his arm. “Would you do me the honour of letting me buy you a drink?”
“John Hancock I’ve told you a million times, I’m too old for you.” Daisy laughed. He groaned in response, placing his free hand across his heart, closing his eyes dramatically.
“And I’ll keep asking, let a ghoul dream!” He pitched his cigarette butt and opened the door for her with a flourish, then glanced back up at Portia. “Same again?”
“Mayor Hancock I told you, we can’t be out late, Preston and I are due in Diamond City early in the morning.”
He grinned at her. “So, same again?”
“Hancock!” Portia smiled despite herself. “This happens every time! I’ll take a bourbon and Nuka.”
“For Pete’s sake Hancock!” Ham called, “In or out man, the wind is friggin’ freezing!”
“Yeah, yeah, hold your horses!” Hancock called through the door, before looking back at her.
The playful, flirtatious grin he usually held was gone. His face was serious, his eyes still. Portia felt her stomach lurch up as she recognised the look as straight lust. She stared back at him, heart all of a sudden pounding in her throat. She snaked her tongue out, to wet her dry lips. Hancock’s gaze dropped to her lips for a moment, before catching himself. He pulled the smirk back, but his eyes kept their intensity.
“I’ll give you a second alone.” He rasped, “feels like you might not get much of that these days, General.”
Despite the heat rising from her core, Portia grabbed ahold of herself, and smiled. “Bourbon and Nuka, remember?”
Hancock nodded and closed to the door, leaving her to the whirling wind, and her thoughts.
She crushed the half finished cigarette beneath her heel and headed back into the crowded bar, finally defeated by the snow now lightly falling. Preston was at the bar, talking animatedly with Magnolia. The place was crowded, and she had to squish herself past several people. They all turned and stared at her as she passed, and the heat was rising in her face again. Portia never quite felt comfortable in crowds like this. She finally reached Preston, who turned and beamed at her. “General, did you need a drink?”
“No, thank you, I think the Mayor -” She was interrupted as Whitechapel Charlie slid a glass of bourbon and Nuka in front of her. “Oh, thank you.” She wrapped her fingers around the glass, and swirled the liquid around.
“I’m just going to freshen up” Magnolia drawled, draping an arm across Preston’s shoulder’s as she rose from her stool. “Don’t go anywhere.” She drifted off in a cloud of perfume, leaving a rather dazed minuteman in her wake.
“You still in there Garvey?” Portia smiled against the glass as she sipped her drink. God bourbon was so sweet. She didn’t really know why she drank it.
He smiled rather bashfully, shaking his head. “She’s really one hell of a woman.”
“Yeah, she has that effect on people,’ Portia dropped her hand on his shoulder. “I’m going to turn in after I finish this - do you need anything else before I go?”
“You won’t stay until she finishes singing?”
“No, I’m beat.” She took another mouthful, just trying to get rid of it now. “But you stay out, just don’t be too hungover for our council meeting tomorrow.”
He grinned at her, “you really don’t trust me, do you General?”
“Preston,” Portia fixed her eyes on her friend, raising an eyebrow, “I trust you to the ends of the earth. I would walk through fire for you. I would, and have, trusted you with my life. But I do not trust you not to get carried away drinking with a pretty woman.”
He laughed out loud at that, wrapping his hand around the neck of his beer bottle as he threw his head back. “Honestly, probably a wise choice.” His eyes sparkled a little under the light. There was a joy she hadn’t seen on his face … ever. Preston had been by her side every step of the way, from the day she thawed out to now. He’d helped her mourn her husband. He’d helped her find her son, and then, well.
Portia would sooner have set herself on fire than quash the happy, slightly drunken glow he was developing across his face.
“Have fun, Preston.” She squeezed his shoulder and moved away, taking a large mouthful and wincing as the far too sweet alcohol burned her tongue. God, why did she always ask for Bourbon, she fucking hated bourbon.
She reached the coat racks at the back of the bar, and started looking for her coat. She drained the last swallow of her glass, and without looking plonked it down on the nearest table.
“Sneaking out without saying goodbye, General?” A familiar rasp came from her left.
Portia bit her lip, and pulled her attention away from the overstacked rack of coats. “As if anyone could leave without saying goodbye to you, Mayor.”
Hancock was leaning against a chair, a glass of amber liquid in his hand, grinning like he always did. “Do you need another drink?”
“No, thank you but I have to go.” She finally spotted her coat, and yanked it out of the tangled mass of fabric. She slipped it on over her shirt, and turned to face him. “Thank you, though. For meeting us, and hearing us out.”
His eyes softened a little. “I appreciate the invitation General. What you and the Minutemen are doing is impressive, joining the Commonwealth together like this. But I can’t go back there.”
Portia tightened her jacket around her, as Hancock swallowed the last of his drink and straightened up. “Come on, I’ll walk to you to the Rexford.”
“You don’t have to -”
He cut her off, offering her his arm. “It’s part of the Goodneighbour hospitality.”
The soft snow was swirling in the wind now, and Portia braced herself against the chill. It seemed to have no effect on Hancock, whose arm she clung to. He was so warm, even through the fabric of his jacket. Portia had to admit it was pleasant - the square was completely empty except for two of the neighbourhood watch, who nodded at them as they passed. The fresh air was refreshing after the stale smoke and beer they’d been breathing at the Third Rail. They reached the doors of the Rexford, and Portia turned to face him.
“Last chance, Mayor.” She brushed the hair out of her eyes as the wind whipped his jacket around his legs. “Are you sure you won’t come with Preston and I to Diamond City for this meeting? Every settlement group is sending a representative. It’s important.”
The wind had picked up now, and she had to lean in closer to him to hear his response.
“General, you really keep pushing this. Are you sure you don’t just want my company?”
She rolled her eyes, a smile bubbling to the surface despite her annoyance. “Hancock, really. Goodneighbour deserves a voice. Your people deserve a voice. You deserve to be there. If you’re not there, then Goodneighbour; your people? They stay disconnected from the rest of the Commonwealth.”
He fixed his eyes on her for a moment. “You really want to have me in Diamond City?”
She touched one of the buttons on his jacket, just needing a moment without his strange, black eyes boring into her. “It’s only fair, after everything.”
He shifted slightly closer, and her skin prickled. “OK, fine. I’ll come.”
She glanced up at him, a smile breaking across her face. “Excellent-”
“But,” he interrupted, his face still serious. “I will not be coming as part of your Minutemen. I respect your organisation General, but Goodneighbour is for the people, by the people, and I will not come shackled to your cowboy hats and holier-than-thou ideologies.”
She blinked, a little taken aback at the roughness under his usual rasp. “Of course, Mayor. The only shackles will be ones you attach yourself.”
A smile spread across his face at that comment, and Portia cursed herself. She shouldn’t have said that. It was just very hard not to flirt with him, despite his radiation ravaged face.
“I feel like the Minutemen and I may have very different ideas on the best use of shackles,” he murmured, now reaching a hand up to brush against the fingers she’d left on his button. His hands were so warm, and she resisted the urge to melt into his touch.
“Sorry to disappoint Mayor, but I leave the shackling to Preston.” She desperately tried to wheel it in, the air was too intimate now.
He was still looking at her, his eyes hungry. He moved to kiss her, and Portia put a hand against his chest. He stopped, still smiling down at her. The heat coming from him was insane, her fingers spread against his chest.
“Mayor, I don’t mix business with, well, thirty seconds of staring at the ceiling.”
He tilted his head back and laughed at this, heartily. It eventually turned into a cough which took a few seconds to get under control. When he finally regained composure and looked back down at her, there were tears in his eyes. “Oh, Christ Sunshine.” His tone was of amusement, he seemed completely unfazed at her rejection. “I only do business with pleasure. As for ceiling staring, it’s not something I’ve personally experienced, but I’m sure I could find some referrals if you’re concerned.” He wrapped his hand around her wrist, lifted it to his mouth and pressed his lips against the back of her hand; before stepping away from her. The cold wind rushed in to fill the spot where he’d stood, and Portia felt a chill wrap across her.
“Goodnight, General.” Hancock slid a cigarette into his mouth, and turned around. Portia called out to him as he disappeared towards the Third Rail.
“See you in the morning, Mayor!”
There was no way he’d show.