So a ghoul walks into a bar....

Carlos didn’t dream. At all. One moment he was falling asleep, and then the next he could feel a burning sort of ache in various parts of his body. The help of Med-X let him just forget the pain, but now it had worn off. His head seemed to pound behind his eyelids, making it impossible for him to just slip back into sleep, even though he desperately wanted to. Just… go back under into the nothing that he felt he didn’t actually get while sleeping.

He didn’t know how long he tried… just that he was frustrated with it. And upset.

Carlos made a low noise - almost like a whine in protest at his own body. He didn’t want to move at all.

Carlos made a little unhappy grunt. ‘Trying’ nothing - they’d known each other for a couple years by now. How many times had Carlos kissed him? Quite a bit, actually. He wasn’t mad at Hancock, but he was a little peeved by the implication that Hancock didn’t believe he made significant progress. Carlos knew where that came from of course; Hancock had a habit of internalizing unfavorable thoughts and assumptions when it came to his looks.

Carlos sighed deeply. He lifted Hancock’s hand to gently kiss and nuzzle it, apologizing for the noise he made as he was sure the ghoul could have taken it to mean something bad. Carlos then sighed again.

Carlos scoffed softly with a grin. “You’re too much,” he said, though his tone of voice didn’t have any indication that he wanted Hancock to actually stop.

He hummed, not making any movement. “Not terribly hungry,” he admitted. “But I could eat something hot.” He glanced up at Hancock. “Yeah, there’s, like… traditional meals, but I’m not expecting you to conjure up anything. I’ll be happy with a hot stew and maybe some coffee or something. Usually my dad made a roast from the preserved meat that was hidden in the vault… lots of steamed and seasoned vegetables. We had potatoes - not tatos, just… imagine something starchy just like a tato, but with white flesh and a lot more mild tasting. It’s really good with salt and butter. I don’t think you can really make a tato taste good…”

He wrinkled his nose a bit. He didn’t like tatos since he was always expecting a potato taste, but never got it.

Carlos grunted softly. “More than just a headache,” he admitted quietly.

But he quickly moved on, not wanting to go much further down that topic on what was one of his and Hancock’s first ‘real’ dates.

“Hancock… I want to tell you that you’re worth more than a date,” Carlos said. “I’ll try not to get too sappy but… I know you have an image here; I know that people think of you a certain way, and that that’s beneficial to the mayoral position you hold. But you’re of course so much more than that. Anyone capable of critical thinking would know that fact. And if they had put in the effort of spending actual time with you and getting to know you, like… like I’ve got the privilege to, they too would probably find you worth it. I’m just the lucky one who’s got that chance right now…”

          “When  I  was  further  out  west,  I  encountered  a  few  nests,”  Liana  explained  as  she  fished  through  her  backpack.    All  those  notes  were  bound  to  come  in  handy  at  some  point;  although  this  kind  of  conversation  wasn’t  what  she’d  been  expecting.    “I  used  to  scope  them  out  for  a  few  days,  just  to  see  what  I  was  walking  into.    It  can  get  pretty  dangerous  out  there.    Nests  out  this  way  are  smaller  and  less  frequent;  maybe  because  there’s  more  population?    Anyway,  yeah,  I  took  notes.”    She  brandished  the  journal  in  front  of  the  two  of  them,  before  dropping  it  on  the  table  and  flipping  through  the  pages  until  she  found  the  pages  about  her  travels  west.    “Yeah,  here,  one  of  the  biggest  nests  was  inside  this  huge  quarry.    Lotta  high  ground  for  me  to  survey  from.”

          “Believe  me,  I  know.”    The  stories  she  could  tell  him.    And  the  ones  she  never  would.    Liana  had  seen  her  fair  share  of  insanity  over  the  years;  and  honestly,  blue  super  mutants  ranked  pretty  low,  compared  to  some  of  the  other  crazy  she’d  encountered.    Heck,  she  was  missing  a  piece  of  her  brain,  thanks  to  some  wacked  out  boat  captain:  it  was  currently  on  display  in  her  bunker,  of  course.    “Not  sure  it’d  be  as  much  fun  if  it  wasn’t,  though,”  she  added  after  a  moment.

                    “Well,  there  you  go  then,”  she  responded  triumphantly, as  she  adjusted  her  grip  on  him.    “I’m  a  great  shot  so  I’ll  take  care  of  the  long-range  enemies  and  you  deal  with  the  ones  who  get  too  up-close  and  handsy.    It  balances  out  perfectly.    We’ll  be  back  to  Goodneighbor  in  no  time.”    Maybe.    Downtown  Boston  was  dangerous;  she  was  considering  a  longer  detour,  just  to  ensure  they’d  make  it  back  in  one  piece.

          She  shrugged.    “Who  knows  what  kind  of  experiments  deathclaws  are?    If  I  knew  of  a  nest  nearby  where  we  could  find  out,  I’d  lend  you  my  binoculars.”    Liana  shifted  around  in  her  seat,  sitting  up.    “Let’s  see…    I  know  there’s  a  den  mother,  or  an  alpha  female.    The  babies  stick  close  to  her  when  they’re  very  young,  and  she  is  very  protective  of  them.    And  there’s  usually  at  least  one  alpha  male.    Hold  on,  I  have  more  stuff  written  about  them  in  my  journal…”

Carlos hummed, watching Hancock with tired eyes. There was more he wanted to say. They still needed to talk; work through hurt feelings and guilt. Carlos was sure he wasn’t the only one with guilt here… he didn’t want Hancock to feel bad about anything on Carlos’ account.

His eyes closed finally as Hancock gently touched him. The aching in his body and the dullness caused by the drugs he’d been given were making it easy to slip into sleep. As he did, he hoped he wouldn’t dream. He also hoped Hancock wouldn’t leave him before he woke up.

Carlos sighed and glanced down as he took Hancock’s hand in his. “It’s… there’s more to it, and I just…”

He suddenly paused and stared into Hancock’s discolored sclera and irises. “I… you?” he asked, his brain caught on what Hancock had said there in the middle. Carlos cleared his throat and averted his gaze, trying to shake himself from going down that train of thought. He’d have to do that later - he was in the middle of an explanation right now.

“I, uh… I’m not going to be dishonest and say that the… that you being a ghoul wasn’t a hang-up I got stuck on. And I’m not going to say that it doesn’t make me nervous… but it’s kind of a combination of things, if that makes sense…” He swallowed slightly, trying to figure out where to start. “I don’t have a lot of experience,” he then said. “Just… kind of stopped in my early twenties.” After maybe a handful of times.

Read More Now!

Carlos grinned at that, entirely too pleased with Hancock’s answer. “Sounds swell… I’d definitely rather have you here with me too. Where it’s warm and cozy.” He shifted a little bit before settling again against Hancock, almost as if to make a point that he wasn’t going to move any time soon.

He was already thinking about bed time: curling up under the covers together. Maybe playing a game on the Pip-boy while they cuddled up with the blankets and pillows. The cold really made it easy for one to feel lazy… especially on Christmas.

“Doesn’t keep people from doing it, surprisingly,” Carlos said with a disappointed-sounding sigh. “I just never participated in it - it’s how you start drama in a small, enclosed space.” Though Carlos’ standards probably meant next to nothing outside the Vault, he felt better sticking to them anyway.

Though to hear Hancock say he appreciated something like courting was a bit of a surprise. A nice one that had Carlos smiling again, if shyly. “I’m not… I mean, thank you, Han,” he said, correcting himself mid-sentence. “I try my best. It means a lot that you appreciate it. I haven’t done this in so long, and I…” He huffed softly and waved his hand, as if to dissipate the thought. “Never mind - doesn’t matter. It was years ago.” He was mostly telling himself that, but he hadn’t lowered his voice at all.

“Says you,” Carlos murmured and he gently nuzzled against Hancock’s skin.

He had to bring it up. He had to get the ball rolling somehow… let Hancock know that he cared about him so much but was really struggling with this one thing in their relationship (excepting of course talks of marriage maybe, but people in the wasteland probably didn’t even think about that as much…) Gee… nice of his thoughts to derail a nice and playful moment between them. It wasn’t going to leave him alone for a long while.

“I’m sorry, by the way,” he said lowly with a frown. “I don’t know what’s got me so… held up. I mean, I have a few ideas, but… I don’t know which one it is.” He meant it - he was genuinely unhappy that he wasn’t able to push himself to commit physically.

          Liana  flicked  the  bottle  cap  on  the  table  listlessly.    “Yeah,  I’ve  been  to  some  of  those  ones,”  she  admitted,  hesitating  for  a  moment  before  adding,  “It  wasn’t  like  that.    We  fought  radroaches  sometimes,  that  was  the  biggest  threat.    I  didn’t  even  want  to  leave,  but  they  were  going  to  kill  me.    It  wasn’t  my  fault,  I  didn’t  even  know…  but  they  tried  to  kill  me  anyway.”    They’d  killed  Jonas,  after  all.    And  her  father  believed  she’d  have  been  safer  inside…    What  a  joke.

          “It’s  whatever  now,”  she  shrugged  it  off,  even  though  it  clearly  wasn’t;  but  it  was  easier  to  say  that  than  face  the  truth.    “I  didn’t  need  them.    They  needed  me,  if  you  can  believe  the  irony,  but  I  never  needed  them.”