Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

The warm, yellow glow of the fire danced across Mac's face, warming his cheeks and making that little smirk all the brighter. Cait said something and Mac snorted a laugh in response, rolling his eyes just so.

MacCready was rough and dishevelled, his teeth misaligned and his beard patchy - but to Nate he was perfect. Of course he had never said such a thing - and even if just hearing his voice rise above the chatter of Sanctuary made Nate's heart flip, he never would say anything. 

Because they were soulmates; and Mac didn't have one, not anymore. He hid it underneath heavy jackets and long sleeved shirts, but once or twice Nate had caught the deep, painful looking burn scar across his wrist. Mac had destroyed his own soulmark. Nate's name. Which raised the question - did Mac even know who Nate was?

"Hey, either quit staring or go talk to the guy. I didn't come to visit Sanctuary just to watch you pine away."

Red flickered in the corner of Nate's vision and he jumped, eyes darting up to rest on Piper's smiling face. "I don't pine," he replied with a snort, "I was just lost in thought."

"I'll bet. Lost in thought, imagining MacCready's lips on yours. Do you think he's a sweet kisser, or more feisty? I bet he's-"

"Piper!" 

Her grin widened as she plopped down on the bench beside Nate. With the golden flames casting half of her face in shadow, that smile turned from sweet and innocent into downright devilish. "I'm just messing," she replied as she edged closer to the fire, sighing at the warmth. "Mostly. I'm serious about talking to him."

Nate looked over, eyes softening into something Piper would probably have described as wistful. 

Cait had disappeared and Mac sat alone nursing a cigarette and a mug of coffee. The seat beside him sat empty. Beside him a few settlers giggled and hopped to their feet and he glanced up through lidded eyes. Mac looked tired, but not the kind of tired that sleep easily solved.

"Look, you've been on missions with the guy and saved each other's ass more times than anyone can count. Not to mention he's told you his deepest, darkest secrets - and no, I won't ask, even if I bet it would make a fantastic story." Piper sighed, and it was a world weary sigh that told Nate I'm getting fed up of your drama. "What I'm saying is, you two have been through hell together. So whatever's on your mind, tell him. Or I'l march over there and do it for you." She threw out a hand, not caring who saw her wild gestures toward Mac.

Nate jolted in his seat, thick hands grabbing for her arm and tugging it down. "No way," he hissed, and his eyes darted to Mac but his gaze was thankfully turned to something Nate couldn't see. Thank God. "It's nothing important."

"Is this about your soulmark?"

"Piper!" 

This time Mac did look up, eyes wide and confused. It wasn't just him, either; Nate's exclamation had caused several heads to swivel, eyes burning with questions.

Nate simply slid down in his seat, wishing that it would swallow him up. It only made his back ache. At least the burning fire somewhat hid him from MacCready's view, and he could attribute his flushed cheeks to the heat.

Piper stifled a laugh behind a hand, but her eyes were sparkling. "Okay, sorry," she replied, her voice cheerful and not apologetic in the slightest, "but you have to tell him at some point, or it'll all come out anyway but much worse."

Yeah, Nate didn't need to be told that. It was a common thing to cover soulmarks - they weren't waved around like a trophy, at least not by people that hadn't found their soulmate yet. Nate knew he kept an extra paranoid lock on his, hiding it behind leather bands and bandannas and whatever else he found. It was never left uncovered, not even on those hot days where covering his wrists made him sweat like he was in a sauna. Suspicious, by all accounts. How long could he keep it up? How long until someone caught a peek?

"It doesn't matter," Nate replied. He ignored the heavy feeling in his gut even as something solid settled there. "For all I know Mac doesn't even remember the name on there. Or he does, and he isn't interested in pursuing anything. Either way he isn't over his wife and-"

"His wife?"

Nate clamped his lips closed, eyes snapping to Piper. Stupid move. Piper was a journalist through and through - now she was going to want the details. "Forget it, it isn't my place to tell."

She quirked a thick brow and a small smile played on her lips. "That's Nate speak for "it's none of your business", which is fair." For a moment her lips stayed parted, eyes narrowed in thought - but no words left her lips; just a stretched out yawn hidden behind her hand. "I'm calling it a night. Now, go talk to MacCready."

Nate watched as Piper hauled herself to her feet, so slowly he was sure she was doing it intentionally. If she wanted to drive him mad, it was working.  She locked eyes with him as she tilted her cap, then jerked a thumb in the direction of where Mac sat huddled by the fire.

She left without a word, and Nate breathed a sigh of relief.

Around him people chatted and laughter rose above the crackle of the fire. Two teenagers stood shoulder to shoulder, grins broad as they watched Mama Murphy with rapt attention. Another teen crouched by the fire, watching it flicker and writhe into the air. They were the only people left, save for himself and Mac.

Bed. The thought of a thick blanket and Dogmeat curled by his side called to him - but so did Piper's words. He hated to admit it, but she was right; the longer he hung around with Mac, the more imminent the risk of being found out. The thought of leaving, of no longer seeing Mac's face every day, made his chest clench.

So really he had two choices. One, tell Mac now before he lost his only drops of courage - or not say anything and hope he could keep up the charade forever. Yeah, great choices there.

The teen poking the fire looked up, squinting, and let the stick fall to the ground. "You all right, mister?"

Nate had to admit he didn't know the kid's name - there were over fifty people in Sanctuary now, after all - but his face was familiar. Nodding, Nate tried to smile. "I'm fine, just thinking. Isn't it a bit late for you to be up still?" he questioned - and no, it wasn't only so the kids would file out and leave him alone with Mac.

The kid frowned, glanced at the fire, and then shrugged. "Well, dad said it was okay, but I do have to be up to help in the greenhouse." He pursed his lips and ruffled his dark ginger hair. "I guess you're right, mister. Minutemen need sleep too, so don't stay up too late!" The kid gave Nate a cheeky grin as he tapped his friend on the shoulder - and then the three of them sauntered off to one of the patched up houses along the road.

Which left him, Mac and Mama Murphy. Going by her glazed over eyes and the soft smile she sent the kids, she wasn't likely to be an problem. Whoever keeps giving her chems - Cait - needs to quit it, he thought, but in this case it works in my favour.

The fire still blazed high, curling smoke high into the air; but the chill blew past Nate as he stood up and wrapping his coat closer didn't do anything to block it out. Huffing, he made quick work of the distance between himself and Mac.

Mac glanced up as Nate plopped down beside him. His cigarette was almost a stub and it quickly joined a discarded pile by Mac's feet. "Hey."

"Hey."

"We heading out tomorrow? We could check out that Graygarden place." Mac's eyes were tired, his smile a little sleepy, but Nate knew a good night's rest and he'd be ready to go.

And he wouldn't get a good night's sleep if Nate started interrogating him about his soulmark. If Nate asked now it would only make things awkward, make Mac angry and Nate never wanted to do that. They were friends; why would he want to destroy that? It was selfish.

"Uh, Nate?"

Nate looked up, and his dark eyes locked with Mac's. He had a million questions clamouring in his mind, but he didn't ask a single one. Instead, "sure, meet me here at dawn."

The sun had risen, casting a golden glowing light across Sanctuary that rivalled any pre-war sunrise. The little blue houses shone and light bounced off the broken pavements. It looked spectacular.

Except Mac wasn't here. Nate's eyes glanced down to his wrist but of course, there was no watch attached to his arm. Restlessness worked its way up his legs and he hopped from one to the other, boots clapping against the earth - but still the uneasiness grew. Not to mention as he stared down the road that sun was almost blinding.

A figure sauntered past and Nate caught a flash of red before Piper's beaming face leaned only inches from his. She flicked the cap on his head, smile growing. "So, how was your talk with Mac?"

"What talk?"

"You know what one - aw jeez, you didn't say a thing did you?" That beaming smile dropped and for a moment she looked like a mother scolding her child. He almost expected her to jab a finger at his chest. "You're hopeless."

"And you need to let it go," Nate shot back, though he didn't even try to keep the smile from his voice, "you never tried to set me up with anyone before."

"That was before I knew you had found your soulmate, Blue. Besides, you were going through a bunch of gender stuff, and I didn't want to intrude. But now, well, all bets are off."

"Ugh. You're a nightmare."

"I am."

"Are what?"

Nate jumped and his heart skipped - but it was only Mac. As if it was ever 'only' where Mac was concerned. Just the sight of his crooked smile and dusty hair tucked beneath that hat made his chest flutter. "It's nothing," he replied, words spilling from his mouth, "are you ready to go?"

"Sure am. This place is so crowded, I can't wait to get out on the road again."

"I know the feeling," Nate replied - but if he was being honest, he was less interested in the travelling and more interested in spending time with Mac. Alone. Just the two of them. Not that Mac ever thought of it like that, he was sure.

"You two have fun!" Piper chimed, tipping her hat toward Nate. She actually winked, and it took all of Nate's self restraint not to reach out and flip that hat from her head. "I'll be here when you get back. I feel like this trip might get me a good story."

All too eager to get out of there, Nate whirled, almost tripping over his own feet, and hurried along the makeshift path leading out of Sanctuary.

Mac followed behind, easily keeping pace with Nate's long strides. "What was that all about?" he demanded - though his voice, pitched with confusion, held no anger.

"Nothing!" Nate replied - too quickly, perhaps, his own voice reaching a crescendo, "just Piper being, well, Piper." Was he convincing? Surely he hadn't heard enough to catch on, not even Mac would say nothing if he heard their conversation...

The silence, although thick with tension, revealed Mac as innocently unaware. Thank God.

Nate let out a sigh of relief, shoulders slumping, and they carried on in peace.

Chapter Text

Nate stretched his arms above his head, wincing as his shoulder blades popped and cracked. They had been on the move for a solid eight hours - though for all he loved to complain, it wasn't such a big deal. Not when he had the afternoon sun shining on his face and Mac's easy company by his side. When Mac was around, everything was always better.

"How much longer?" Mac grumbled. His hand shielded his face from the sun - even though his hat probably did a fine job on its own - and he still squinted as he turned to Nate. Or maybe he was glaring.

Nate found himself smiling, fighting down the absurd urge to laugh. "Just up ahead. See that big grey hospital? We're headed there." He pointed, although it was obvious where they were going. 

The hospital towered above the tiny houses littering the streets, still standing tall after two centuries when everything else had turned to dust. Back in the day it had been stark white and honestly hideous, but the years had dulled it to a dirty grey. It still stuck out like a sore thumb more than anything else in the Commonwealth.

Despite its impressiveness, Mac only shrugged. "Great. What's so special about it?"

"A couple of nearby settlers tipped me off about raiders hiding out there, and maybe a radroach infestation. I've been relaxing at Sanctuary for too long and it's about time I helped out."

"You can't do everything on your own. Get your beloved Minutemen to help out."

Nate resisted the urge to roll his eyes and simply replied, "I would, but I was getting bored of Sanctuary anyway. Besides, you came along willingly."

"I can never say no to you, and you know it," Mac huffed back - but there was a hesitant smile playing at his lips.

Nate's chest bloomed, warmth flourishing. It was the little moments like that, when Mac said something kind of sweet without even knowing, that made it all worth it. Why would he want to ruin what they had by telling him the truth? His gaze wandered to Mac, who strode on ahead, watching the way his arms swung so casually by his side. Until his foot collided with something solid and he tumbled, feet sliding on the dry earth. He braced himself to hit the dirt - but strong arms caught him before he fell.

How Mac had gotten there so quickly he didn't know, but he was never one to complain; especially with those solid arms holding him close and Mac's breath across his skin...

Air rushed through his hair and Nate's ass hit the ground with a thud. He stared at his legs for a moment, tangled on the ground, before letting his gaze wander to Mac.

He was walking ahead again, hands deep in his pockets. It was as if nothing had happened.

"Did you have to drop me?" Nate demanded as he scrambled to his feet. The earth was dry and crumbling after weeks without rain, but he still struggled to find grip as he kicked up dirt. "Catch me and then drop me. Thanks."

Mac said nothing - which in itself wasn't so weird. It was weird though, the way his hand disappeared underneath his jacket, tracing the marred skin that had been his soulmark.

Something was up, and it was none of Nate's business, but there was a burning question on the tip of his tongue anyway. Swallowing it down, Nate took a breath and hurried after him.

The rest of the journey passed in tense silence. They forged ahead with their heads forward, not a single word passing between them. Questions still lingered in the back of Nate's brain - but the bigger part of him screamed no, it isn't worth it. 

As the enormous grey building loomed closer and closer overhead, Nate felt something cold stir in his stomach. He couldn't place why the hospital gave him chills or why it made his skin prick, but looking at those wooden doors made him shudder.

If Mac felt anything, he didn't show it. His discomfort was a different kind - not caused by the hospital or what they might find inside. It left Nate wondering if it was his fault. 

A sigh slipped from his lips as he shook his head, ignoring how hair fell in his eyes. He needed to get it cut, but that was a problem for later. "We go in nice and quiet, don't bring attention to ourselves. Those raiders aren't expecting us, so we have the advantage." Nate didn't have any fancy weapons on him - just a plain .44 pistol and his favourite combat knife. He slipped the pistol from its holster as he eased the door open - it swung inward with a deafening creak, grating on his ears.

Not as subtle as he had hoped.

But no one rushed at them screaming or pointing weapons. In fact it was eerily silence inside. Not a voice or even a creak of wind against old window panes. 

It didn't sit well with Nate, but he let out a breath of relief and crept inside. Ducked low, he let the flashlight on his pip-boy sweep the room, blue glow flickering across broken chairs and an old hospital gurney. Not a single raider in sight.

Mac dropped low beside him, and the hefty rifle in his palms was a familiar sight. Reassuring. Where Nate's weapons and Wasteland knowledge lacked, Mac made up for it. "No one's here. You sure this is the right place?"

Nate felt himself smile despite the uneasiness in his gut. At least Mac was talking again. "Definitely. It's a big place, maybe they're in another wing."

Mac cast him a raised brow, but didn't hold his gaze. Instead he stood up, adjusted his hold on the rifle, and drifted over to the old nurse's desk in the middle of the foyer. "Maybe," he replied simply, "we should check everywhere just in case."

He doubted there was anyone hiding in the desk drawer, but Nate kept silent as he joined Mac's side. The desk itself was covered in dust, scattered with papers long faded and pens that hadn't worked in decades. Nothing interesting, and certainly nothing to indicate raiders. 

Across the room stood two elevators. A light blinked dimly in the darkness, so at least one of them still worked. Stairs sat down a hall, shadowed and murky. Which was best?

"We should take the stairs," Mac spoke as if he had read Nate's mind, "elevator is too noisy."

They crept along the hall together. It was so narrow Nate's shoulder brushed Mac's as they moved, though that wasn't bad, per se. The warmth of his skin soaked through the thick jacket, even though Nate was shivering. Not to mention the fact that every so often, Mac's hand bumped against his leg. It was difficult not to let his mind wander, to imagine what that calloused hand felt like cupping his cheek or-

This was not the time to be thinking about that.

Nate crept upstairs first just so he wouldn't have to watch Mac ahead of him. The first foot landed silently, and then the second, and the stairs didn't so much as creak. Behind him, Mac was just as silent.

The next level made Nate's lips curl and his stomach lurch. Whoever was staying here hadn't bothered to clean up the radroach corpses; tiny crushed husks littered the ground. It wasn't until his foot hit the top step that the stench hit - the bitter rot of corpses lying out for weeks. But it was too strong, too overwhelming to just be 'roaches.

Nate tugged the neck of his t-shirt to cover his nose, but his eyes were already beginning to water. Even covering his face didn't block out the putrid smell. "I guess we found the raiders."

"Couldn't they at least clean up after themselves," Mac's nose crinkled, throat bobbing and for a moment Nate thought he was going to be sick. It must have been bad if a hardened mercenary like Mac wanted to puke. "I've met super mutants with better manners than this."

Nate actually had, this mind going to Virgil, but Mac had a point. The place was disgusting, and he was pretty sure he didn't want to know the origins of that rotting smell. "Let's just keep quiet and check the rooms one by one."

Up ahead a  sign read maternity ward - except the letters were so faded it was almost impossible to make out. 

Nate took a step forward, hands clutching his pistol - but he paused, eyeing that sign. It wasn't the same hospital, not even in the area, but for a moment he thought of Shaun and Nora, the two people he had loved most. 

And now he loved someone else, someone right beside him, and he didn't even know.

"Nate, why'd you stop? See something?"

Nate blinked, and reality shot back into focus so fiercely he almost stumbled. "No, it's nothing." He forged forward without looking back, without turning to look at Mac's face.

He didn't need to look to know the narrow eyed look Mac shot him. He felt it hot against his back.

Footfall was quiet in the hospital despite the hard wooden floors and echoing hallways. Every so often Nate's foot squished against a radroach corpse, the soft crunch of it's exoskeleton almost enough to make him gag. A hardened wastelander he was not. 

Door after door revealed nothing except for crumbling walls and ancient hospital beds. One room, probably once an operating theatre, had crates of Nuka Cola stacked against one wall and mouldy mattresses piled around a metal barrel. From the faint smell of smoke, it had been the source of a camp fire up until recently.

"We're close," Nate whispered, softly closing the door behind him, "I think-"

He stopped, words faltering as a gentle tap tap of footsteps caught his ears. Too far away to know the direction, but too close for comfort. Had they heard him moving about?

Mac's lips curled, hands clenching around the rifle. Ready for action as always, though Nate expected nothing less. Nate knew that underneath that jacket lay arms thick with muscle, arms that punch a raider dead if he needed.

Any other time, that would have been hot.

To their left something clattered. A bottle rolling across the floor? Someone kicking trash? It was too out of place in the silence to be caused by anything but a human.

Silently Nate gestured down the hall. It stretched on into blackness - but if they couldn't see the raider, the raider couldn't see them. That, at least, worked in their favour. "Stay here and shoot from a distance. I'll see if I can scope the place out."

There was no time to argue. Voices not their own drifted from down the hall, deep and rough. By the way they kept their voices low and walked so quietly, they suspected they weren't alone.

Nate instinctively dropped to a crouch, though there was nothing to hide behind in the open space of the hallway. He could duck into a room - but they hadn't checked out the rooms ahead. Who knew what other dangers lurked behind those wooden doors? Nate swallowed, ignoring the way his chest thudded at the thought. With each step forward his heart skipped another beat and his palms became sweatier; but he forged ahead without so much as blinking.

Shadows up ahead. Vaguely human shaped in the gloom, Nate made out two. Something else scuttled about their feet - an attack hound? - and a third figure hung back from the rest as if keeping watch.

The pistol shook in Nate's hands as he slinked back, disappearing into the shadows. His heel hit something and it rolled out into the hall before he had the chance to reach out and stop it. A metal tin. It clanked against the opposite wall and bounced back, deafeningly loud in the silence.

"What was that?" A gruff voice asked from the shadowed hall. "Did you hear something?"

"Sounded like a person if you ask me."

Nate was open and vulnerable in the hall but he froze, whole body seizing up even though his brain told him to run. Wide eyes fixed on the largest figure as it strode forward, the smaller silhouette of the dog close behind. 

Within moments a towering brick of a man faded into view, his face a forest of scars. He smirked, and Nate's blood went cold. "So, what do we have here?"

He did what came naturally - aimed that pistol. sucked in a breath, and fired.

The raider had no time to react. Blood spurted from his forehead and he crumpled into a bloody heap on the ground. A cry squeezed from his lips as he collapsed, echoing down the hall - but then he lay still as blood pooled around him.

There were a few, precious moments of silence - and then everything burst into chaos.

The dog peeled into view, teeth glistening as it lunged for Nate. Red gums and white teeth filled his vision and then he tumbled backward with his hands out as the dog struggled to take a chunk from his neck. Nate's back slammed into the ground and his head spun, alight with stars as it cracked against the rotting wood floor.

Above him the dog growled - and then his vision went black.

Chapter Text

Light burst behind Nate's eyelids in a shower of hot, white pain. The back of his skill felt warm and damp - but when he tried to raise an arm it struggled, straining against something winding around his wrists. He blinked his eyes open and turned his head - only for more heat to bloom at the base of his neck.

The room was dim; just dull shapes and silhouettes surrounding him. Crumbling white walls told him he was still in the hospital - as did the exist sign, somehow still glowing after all these decades.

Nate struggled, but his arms still couldn't move. He was tied up, thick rope wound around his wrists and chaining him to something. If only he knew what that something was; but if such a small movement made his head feel so terrible, he wasn't risking it again. His back rested against something thin and cold - a table leg? a surgeon's table? He twisted, but whatever he was chained to held fast - probably bolted down. Nate's breath hitched, heart shuddering as he squirmed on the ground.

The room was empty, at least. No dogs and no raiders... and no Mac. Where the hell was he?

It was then that Nate's gaze drifted to a shapeless form on the ground. It could have been anything as his eyes slowed to adjust; except for the shallow rise and fall as if it was breathing. Relief flooded him and Nate let out a strangled sound. His whole body ached to run to him, to collapse by Mac's side and bury his face in his shoulder. Nate couldn't even move his hands.

Mac shifted, a low groan emanating from his silhouette.

"MacCready, are you all right?" His voice echoed across the room and Nate flinched. If anyone was nearby, now they knew he was awake. But his need to know if Mac was okay outweighed that. "Are you hurt?"

Mac sat up, but he moved slowly as if it caused him pain - and when he pressed his back against the wall he wobbled, like he couldn't keep his balance.

"Mac?"

"I'm fine."

His voice, sluggish but strong, sent relief coursing through Nate. A sigh left his lips, whole body relaxing. "Thank God.  Are you tied up too?"

"Yeah. Arms behind my back, feet bound together. I've been in worse situations, but this isn't great."

It sure as hell wasn't. Just because the raiders weren't here right now, certainly didn't mean they were gone. With no way to know how long they had been unconscious, or what part of the hospital they were even in, there was nothing to go on. Nate swallowed thickly, trying to ignore the way his stomach churned.

"Do you have any weapons?"

Nate's eyes had adjusted now, and he saw Mac shake his head. "Knife's still in my boot, but I don't know what happened to my rifle."

Nate's holster was empty, but it wasn't as if he could feel around for the rest of his hidden weapons. The knife in his jacket pocket, the switchblade in his leg pouch, they were both out of reach thanks to his hands securely bound to the operating table. 

Footsteps in the hall. Voices. A peel of laughter so shrill it made Nate wince. Then the door at the end of the room creaked open, dull light spilling from the hall, and three enormous raiders piled in. 

Recognition sparked in Nate's mind as the largest man strode forward. Wide jaw, thin lips, scars mapping every inch of his face and neck. With a jolt Nate flinched back. That was the raider he had killed.

The man ignored Mac, striding right for Nate before dropping to a crouch. The smile that twisted his lips was gruesome, mouth full of rotting teeth. "This is him?"

"Yeah, this is the guy that killed your brother."

Oh. Nate slumped, a sigh of relief escaping him with the knowledge he wasn't suddenly hallucinating dead people. When he looked up, eyes locking with the bloodshot gaze of the raider, Nate wondered if maybe hallucinations would have been better than this. He shivered.

"Well, I think we can have some fun with these two before we send them off to the great beyond," the raider spoke, and his slimy grin widened. Nate almost gagged as foul breath assaulted him, but the raider only laughed. "You got anyone who's gonna miss you at home? Family, friends?" He produced a knife - the blade long and serrated and grazed it across Nate's neck.

It didn't cut the skin, barely scratched him; but Nate flinched away. His eyes flickered to MacCready, tied up and just as helpless as Nate himself. This whole stupid thing was his fault, and now Mac was stuck in the middle of it. Maybe-

His thoughts were torn by a deep, rumbling laugh that shook the room. The raider's gaze shifted from Nate to Mac, a knowing smile curling at his lips. "Ah, the one you care about it already here. How tragic. What is he to you - brother? Friend? Boyfriend?" He leaned closer and tilted the knife, giving Nate no choice but to look at him.

"Hey, leave him the fuck alone!" 

Across the room the two other raiders snarled. One, a tall man with a shock of red hair, strode across the room. He slammed a well placed boot into Mac's gut and laughed when Mac let out a yell of pain. 

Mac fell silent, glaring up at the raider as he wrapped defensive arms around his torso.

Nate struggled against his bonds, fire twisting in his gut. "What the hell?" The rope pulled at his wrists but he didn't care; he didn't care about the damn knife at his neck either. That asshole, hurting Mac like that. What kind of piece of shit was he? "Touch him again and you're dead." 

The raider, unperturbed, only smiled wider. "Ah, I think I know what's going on between you, and it's going to make this even more fun." 

The knife slipped from Nate's neck and he sighed in relief - but then the raider stretched around the back, knife pressed against Nate's wrists and he froze, heart thundering in his chest. What was he doing? His eyes locked with Mac's, matching horror dawning on their face.

But the raider moved away and suddenly the rope fell from his wrists. With the pressure gone his arms felt heavy and stiff as the circulation came rushing back to his hands. There was a moment of relief and Nate sighed, massaging his left wrist with the opposite hand - until the scarred raider snatched his wrist, forcefully pulling back the sleeve.

"Oi, your name Robert MacCready?" He turned to Mac, brow raised even though it was too dark for Mac to see. When he tugged Nate forward it was with ease, as if to brandish Nate's soulmark to the onlookers.

Nate's heart thundered, bile rising in the back of his throat. No, no this was not happening. Absolutely not. He had tried to carefully to hide his mark from Nate and some asshole raider out for revenge wasn't going to ruin this. Nate yanked his arm back - but the raider's firm grip didn't sway. He was stuck.

"One of you go check this Robert guy's soulmark. Man, this is great. I've never tortured soulmates in front of each other before." His laugh, raspy and dull, rang in Nate's ears as a witch's cackle.

The redheaded raider did exactly as he was told - snatching Mac's arm in a painfully strong grasp and pulling back the sleeve. 

Nate knew what was there - a scarred mess, the name illegible. Even though he had glimpsed it a handful of times when Mac thought it was covered, it still stung. He dropped his gaze, though he felt Mac's own eyes on him in the dimness.

"Huh. Dude, you really didn't want to be his soulmate, did you?" The redhead laughed - and then the scarred raider joined him. Even the silent one let out a small chuckle, eyes glinting. "So what was the name on that soulmark, anyway?"

"None of your fucking business," Mac shot back. His promise not to swear had been thrown out the window, his voice thick with anger. "If you're going to torture us, get on with it."

"But this is part of the fun!" Scar laughed again, making Nate shiver. "So really, what's this guy's name, huh? Why did you want to get rid of his name on your wrist so bad?"

Mac wouldn't look at Nate. Wouldn't look at anyone. His cap kept his lowered face from view but Nate swore he saw tears glimmer in the corner of his eyes. "It's not his name. My soulmate is dead."

Nate's head snapped up, wide eyes locking onto Mac even though Mac kept his head bowed. His soulmate was dead? How? The proof was right there, Mac's name on his wrist plain to see now, on display for the whole room. Unless...

Mac's wife. He had spoken about her only twice; once in passing, where he quickly changed the subject before uttering more than five words about her. Then weeks later as they huddled in an old police station under cover from a radstorm he had said her name, so quietly Nate could have missed it. Lucy. 

Everything snapped into place.

"Hey, don't zone out on us now, things are just getting good! Man, I had hoped to just beat you around, maybe pierce a few holes in you but this is priceless." Scar leered at Nate, teeth so black and rotting they blended into the dark room. 

"This is more tragic than those stupid romance books you love so much," Redhead jeered at the silent raider. Predictably, he didn't receive a reply.

Nate's eyes narrowed at the raiders. Even with his hands free there was nothing he could do. His legs were still bound so tightly the rope was cutting into his skin - and in the time it took him to grab one of the knives hidden in his clothes, the raiders would be on him. Even though every fibre in his body screamed at him to move, he kept still.

Scar was still smiling, lips peeled back in a way that made Nate want to vomit. The knife returned, cool and deadly against the soft flesh of his neck. "So," Scar started, "this is how it's going to go. You're going to sit here and watch while I-"

A scream ripped through the hospital, so loud and curdled not even the door muffled it. It was followed by a shriek, almost a declaration of victory and a scrabble of footsteps outside.

"Shit," Scar hissed. In one quick movement he swept to his feet. "Have those idiots let one of the prisoners loose again? I swear, super mutants are more competent than this lot." 

Redhead flung open the door with a grunt, quickly swallowed up by the darkness. The silent one followed, feet unnaturally quiet against the tiled floor. The screams continued, but it was more of a nuisance than a real concern.

Scar turned to Nate - and he realised with a jolt of surprise they had all forgotten Nate's bonds were lose. Scar stared at him for a long moment, then turned on his heel and followed the others. The door beat closed behind him.

Then there was only Nate. Nate and Mac.

Mac sighed in relief, eyes fixed on the door. "What do you suppose happened out there?"

He blinked, stunned. "Seriously? After everything that just happened, that's your question?"

He shrugged, a lopsided move as his hands were still bound behind him. "Now isn't the time, is it? We need to get the fuck out of here first."

"Language," Nate reminded him on impulse. He was right, though. They needed to go now, before the raiders came back. Nate shifted, wincing as pain laced across his ankles. The rope was painfully tight, probably enough to bruise. He reached for his jacket pocket to reveal a dagger clutched in shaking, nervous hands. At least they were steady enough to make short work of the rope and soon enough, it fell away. The pain relief was instant.

There was no time to revel in it, though. Crossing the room to kneel by Mac, he sawed at the rope tying his feet together. This rope was thicker, tougher - but even so it couldn't stand up to Nate's vigorous cutting. Time ticked on as he moved to Mac's hands, sawing at the rope bit by bit.

Outside, voices sparked urgency in Nate's heart. They were down the hall but that didn't mean they would be forever, the voices - the raspiest undeniably Scar's - came ever closer.

Nate grunted as he hacked away at the ropes. It was the best he had but this stupid little dagger wasn't enough. His wrists burned but he didn't dare slow. Why was this taking so long?

"Hurry up!" Mac muttered, twisting to look. He couldn't, and the movement only made Nate fumble.

"Quit moving! I'm going as fast as I can," he shot back, voice barely a hiss. 

The voices were closer now and Nate heard two - Scar and Redhead. Was the silent raider still there too? Three against two, the odds weren't great. Their situation only made it so much worse.

His hands faltered, wrists finally giving up - but at that exact moment the rope finally snapped. Nate dropped them, a sigh of relief spilling from his lips. Within seconds he was helping Mac up, oh so careful not to hurt his torso. 

"I'm fine," Mac assured - but the way his face pinched wasn't convincing. "Though I'd be much better if I had my rifle."

The door rattled, cracked open. Nate's head snapped to the sound but no one came in. Instead the raiders stood outside, chatting away as if they didn't have two people captured inside. Were they really so convinced Mac and Nate were harmless?

They scrabbled to their feet; Nate gently hefting Mac up, letting him sling an arm around his shoulder to keep steady. Mac's breath was heavy in his ears, though the rapid beat of his own heart drowned it out. There was nowhere to hide in the darkened room. A scattering of chairs, the beat up operating table and long trashed equipment littered the floor but there wasn't enough to conceal two people. Nate's breath quickened as desperate eyes scanned the room.

"What's the plan?" Mac whispered in his ear.

"You think I have a plan?" he shot back, voice wavering. "The plan is not to die."

A pause. Then, "okay, that's fair."

The voices outside grew louder, a rumbling laugh curling around the door. Then the enormous, hulking figure of Scar filled the doorway. His leering smile dropped as he noticed Nate wasn't in his spot. A hand snapped to his hip - where that knife glinted. Then his eyes fell on them, and he growled.

They had been caught.

Chapter Text

There was a long, tense and horribly suffocating moment where nobody moved. Nate stood rooted to the spot, heart hammering in his chest and he couldn't take his eyes away from the raider. Everything was still - until the raider reached for his weapon and chaos blew up around them.

Nate saw the raider's knife glint as he sprinted on powerful legs, moving with frightening speed for such a heavyset guy. Nate let out a cry of surprise and ducked to the side but Scar kept coming. He shot past Nate and his knife slashed at thin air - until he realised Nate as no longer there and skidded to a halt.

His eyes flickered from Scar to Mac. His brain went into overdrive as he attempted to asses the situation in the precious few second available. He made an executive decision. "Mac, get the hell out of here!"

Scar turned to him with a growl deep in his throat. "You're not escaping." His voice, although gruff, was frighteningly calm despite the way his chest heaved. He took a step forward as a slow, leering smile spread across deeply scarred lips. 

Mac cast Nate a pleading look, eyes barely visible beneath the shadow of his cap. 

Nate nodded, and although it hurt he knew it had to be done. "Go on - I'll keep him busy."

Wide eyes shifted from Nate to Scar - but when Scar lunged forward with a rumbling laugh, knife outstretched, Mac didn't waste any time in bolting from the room.

Nate's heart jumped, his pulse spiked. Mac was gone. Just like that, he was alone with this crazy fucking raider. When he caught sight of that enormous knife his own suddenly seemed so pitiful.  Still his hands fumbled for it, clumsy but desperate as he kept his gaze hooked on Scar. At least Mac was safe.

"Come on," Nate spoke - and it was pointless, this wasn't the kind of man he could reason with, but he couldn't take the  guy in a fight. Not with a switchblade and a rusted up knife, not with two lackeys standing outside and who knew how many more waiting beyond. He continued, voice shaking, "you're not really going to fight a guy who's basically defenceless, are you?"

He sneered and stepped forward. He was so fucking tall, towering over Nate, and it only took him two wide strides before his hand fisted around Nate's jacket and hauled him off the ground as effortlessly as if he was a sack of laundry. Nate squirmed, a gasp escaping his lips as the collar squeezed his neck, his air supply.

A shadow moved, darker black against an already murky room. Something metallic flashed as the figure moved-

Scar's disgusting grin dropped as he gasped, eyes widening. He stood there and his grasp went slack until he dropped Nate to the floor. A second later he dropped too and it wasn't until he collapsed to the ground that the blood became visible, slowly seeping through the back of his dirty t-shirt. His gasps turned bubbly as he struggled for breath.

When Nate's gaze flickered up, MacCready grinned wearily. "What, you didn't think I was actually going to ditch you?"

Nate could have cried, the relief swelling up inside of him  until all he wanted to do was wrap Mac in his arms. He actually took a step forward, avoiding the now dead Scar, before halting mid-step. "We should get out of here."

Mac's uneasy smile slipped, brows furrowing. "So we're just going to pretend like nothing happened?"

Nate sucked in a breath. "This isn't the place," he replied quietly; only to cringe at the frailty in his own voice. Wincing, he dropped his gaze. It wasn't like he could see much of Mac's face anyway, but that wasn't the problem. He didn't want Mac to see his. When he next spoke his voice was soft, but it didn't wobble. A small victory. "Let's get somewhere safe first."

Mac hesitated and he wasn't looking but Nate felt his lingering stare. Finally, "fine, but you have a lot to explain."

He could have laughed; but instead only a dry snort left his throat. Nate had a lot to explain? Mac was the one with the scarred up soulmark, the one who looked so shocked to know Nate was his - but, if Nate was right, perhaps there was a reason for that. Perhaps Mac hadn't known at all.

Mac had already turned to leave by the time Nate snapped himself from his thoughts. He hovered by the door before sticking his head into the hall - and then slowly stepping through. 

Nate followed silently. He had expected an army of raiders to come streaking past, to brandish knifes and wave guns. The other two, the redhead and the quiet one, at least. There was no one, not even the owner of the voices he heard earlier.

"Looks like that guy wanted to take care of us himself," Mac noted drily. He turned, and his gaze lingered on Nate a little too long. Then he shook his head, tugged his cap down, and set off down the hall.

Nate had to sprint to keep up. His legs, stocky and short, weren't meant for Mac's long, lean ones. Usually Mac made sure to keep slow but this time he charged ahead and Nate's ankles quickly began to burn with the effort of keeping up. "Hey, can you slow down-"

"You're the one who wanted out of here," Mac snapped, "so let's go. Do you think they have our weapons somewhere?"

He could have snapped back - hell, he wanted to - but his mouth was dryer than sandpaper and his heart hammered against his rib cage every time Mac spoke. He kept silent as they moved through the halls and even his boots barely made a sound against the uneven floor.

By the time they reached the stairs Nate's nerves had began to calm. Nausea still twisted his insides he watched Mac descend the dark staircase. He followed, hands nervously clawing at the hem of the t-shirt beneath his jacket. With his pistol gone everything felt so wrong - but if he was honest with himself it wasn't a fight he as scared of.

It was the conversation with Mac that had to come afterword.

More silence. It was thick and cloying, and Nate wanted nothing more than to break it but he couldn't. The steps creaked as he made his descent and he cringed. This wasn't right; this eerie quiet, the complete lack of raiders in the hallways or the rooms they led to. He took another step, following the dull silhouette of Mac.

Until Mac paused. It was so dark Nate didn't realise until his chest collided with Mac's back and he stumbled from the impact. Mac, unfazed, simply hushed him.

"What's-"

"Keep quiet."

Nate clamped his lips closed. The question still burned in the back of his throat but he didn't dare speak, didn't even move as Mac slowly stuck his head around the corner. Still on the bottom step, Nate stayed put.

"Can you hear voices?"

Nate's ears strained, dark eyes squinting in the darkness as if he might somehow see something move. Maybe he did hear voices, muffled and far away, but it just as easily could have been a draft from long shattered windows. "I don't know," came his simple reply, followed by a shrug. He was thankful that the dark hid their faces so he didn't have to look Mac in the eyes. The unspoken words between them hung in the air. It still wasn't the right time. Would there ever be?

Mac simply huffed quietly, his shadow shifting as he turned the corner. Although his arms hung by his sides and his head was high, he wasn't as relaxed as he apparently wanted to seem. Nate knew the signs; the clenching of fists and unusual quiet. Not that he was the chattiest anyway, but this was different.

With a sigh, Nate followed. He was supposed to be in charge of this, but given the circumstances letting Mac lead the way didn't seem so terrible.

Mac paused by a dirty window and Nate stood beside him. He kept more distance than normal, hands shoved deep in the pockets of his leather jacket.

 The empty stretch of road beyond was only visible thanks to a collection of oil lamps outside. Chairs and a half-finished chess game sat overlooking the road, but no one was around. A quick glance to the left confirmed two raiders guarding an exit, their faces turned the other way.

"Security's pretty shit," Mac noted.

Nate's lips parted to correct him - language! - but in the end he simply hummed an affirmative. As the fear ebbed away he was left with an emptiness - the need to be close to Mac, but the hesitancy to actually do anything about it. To keep his mind away from those thoughts he said, "if that exit is out, what do you propose we do?"

Mac didn't look at him, but there was a smirk in his voice as he said, "we leave by window."

"Seriously?"

"Do you know where the next exit is? We might get caught before we find it."

Fine, so he had a point. Didn't mean Nate had to like it. Nate didn't have the energy to argue, though - he just wanted to get the hell out of here and get back to Sanctuary, or Goodneighbour, or anywhere that had a proper bed and no raiders after their asses.

"I'll get the window. Keep an eye out for raiders - this is going to be loud." Nate peeked out the window as Mac backed up - but the raiders were still facing the exit, chatting animatedly amongst themselves. They probably wouldn't hear - but inside, where the sound carried and everything echoed, who knew. He took a breath, shielded his face, and smashed his elbow against the window.

Glass flew outward but Nate still ducked on instinct. The high pitched jingle of broken glass registered in his ears a second too late, and by then the shards had already settled on the ground. They crunched underfoot as Nate straightened up, eyes snapping to the two raiders outside. They were oblivious.

"Nice. You okay?"

"No cuts," Nate replied, not looking, "I'll go through first." With his leather jacket for protection he dusted away the remaining shards - then clambered through the window with all the grace of a drunk brahmin. He toppled out the other side and landed on the grass with a grunt. A moment later he hopped back to his feet, smiling sheepishly. "We're good out here. Hurry up."

Mac winced as he hoisted a leg over. That kick to his gut couldn't have done him any good and the pain that flashed across his face proved it.

"Here." Nate offered an arm, something to grab onto so Mac could haul himself over.

Mac swatted it away with a grunt as he slowly brought his other leg over. It was slow and painful to watch, but Nate retreated his arm without complaint. 

By the time Mac had dropped onto the grass, voices drifted down the hall. They should have known this wasn't going to be so easy. The murmurs grew to shouts, the echoing quality only making them sound more angry, more frightening. 

Then, across the stretch of road, the two guards whirled. Light swept across their hiding place as one raider whipped out a flashlight and Nate ducked just as it passed him.

"Time to go. Can you run?"

Mac shrugged. "I'll have to."

"I can help-"

"No, I'm fine on my own."

Nate bit his tongue against the frustration bubbling. The raiders were right there, and Mac still wasn't accepting help? Stubborn idiot - and even more so than usual. Nate couldn't shift the feeling it was his own fault. That this whole damn thing was his fault. Had he just ruined everything with Mac in one night?

The light swept over them again, a white beam in the darkness. Nae flinched and Mac pressed himself against the wall. The voices were louder, footsteps hammering down the stairs they had just come from. 

Nate braced himself, inhaling deeply and trying to steady the rapid beat of his heart. It didn't work, but then it never did. With one glance toward Mac he nodded - and then sprinted for the cover of the next building over.

Mac's footsteps followed right behind but they were almost lost to the chorus of yells. One raider screamed obscenities and Nate's chest shuddered at the grating voice.

Before he knew it he was ducking around a corner and into the relative safety of an alleyway. Nate's breath escaped him in raspy gasps, head pounding.

Mac skidded to a stop beside him, also panting heavily. He held his ribs as if in pain but there was a grin on his face and a glint in his eyes. "Shit, that was close."

Silently, Nate nodded.

"We should duck inside, find somewhere to lay low."

"Right." Nate turned to the nearest door - and he didn't even know where it led to - and gave the handle a shake. It creaked open on rusted hinges to reveal a dark, empty shop. Figures loomed in the darkness and he flinched into Mac - but they were only plastic mannequins.  It didn't pass his notice how Mac tensed as Nate pressed against him. It had been automatic, an act of surprise - but still. when he stepped into the store - and away from Mac - he was left cold.

Mac closed the door behind them, but he cast a wary look outside to confirm they hadn't been followed. Then he slipped to the ground with a grunt, still cradling his ribs. When he looked up, his eyes were solemn. "So, you ready for that talk yet?"

No, he wasn't. Nate would never be ready for what was to come - but that didn't matter. He lowered himself onto the floor across from Mac, using an old clothing display as a back rest. "Yeah, let's talk."

Chapter Text

It turned out that talking was a lot more difficult when you didn't know what you were supposed to say. There were a hundred thoughts and a million ways to say them just whirling in Nate's mind and yet not a single one decided to voice itself. Instead he just stood there with his mouth open like an idiot, admiring Mac in the dim room and wishing the floor would open up and swallow him whole. How come being alone with Mac managed to be both the best and worst thing imaginable?

Mac's fingers tapped against the ground as he sat, waiting; and Nate couldn't tell if he was patiently waiting for Nate to speak or trying to muddle through his own mess of thoughts. 

Finally, Nate broke the thick silence encapsulating them. "So, that whole soulmate thing... wild, right?" Yeah, way to go! He groaned and dropped his head into waiting hands. Why was he like this?

"That guy said you had my name on your wrist but that's impossible. I know the name, even if I haven't seen it in years." It was Mac's turn to sigh, lips pursing. One hand fumbled in his pockets to produce an ancient pack of cigarettes. When he lit the end his face momentarily bloomed with golden-red light and he looked beautiful. Exhausted, sure, but still so beautiful.

Yeah, because that thought really helped. Nate squirmed, eyes dropping to the ground. "I never knew what your soulmark said, never knew why you had scarred it up but I assumed it was, I don't know, because you didn't want a soulmate. Back there though you said something about... Lucy."

"My wife's none of your business," Mac snapped - but he was tired, his voice lacked venom. Instead he just sounded done. "I don't like to talk about her."

"I know," he soothed. He wanted nothing more than to reach out to Mac, to take his hand and comfort him; instead he just sat rooted to his cold patch of floor. "I'm not trying to get you to talk about her, really, but she explains a lot."

"How?" His eyes snapped up, illuminated by the dull light sifting through the window and the glow of his cigarette. 

Again Nate shifted. The words were right there but still he froze up, jaw locking closed as if preventing the words from escaping. This was big, and if Mac didn't like what he heard it could ruin their friendship. Utterly destroy it. But there was no going back and he knew it - so if Mac didn't want to be his soulmate he just had to accept that and anything else that came with it.

"Your wife and I have the same name."

"Wait, what?"

Nate tipped his head back as the urge to laugh rose in his throat. He swallowed down the rising hysteria but only just, a humourless chuckle escaping his lips. "My birth name was Lucy. I've changed my name half a dozen times since I was a kid but I was born Lucy. I don't know what your wife's surname was but I can only assume we share that, too."

Mac was silent. He took a long drag of his cigarette, plucked it from his lips and tapped the ash onto the already dusty floor. He didn't meet Nate's eyes but he smiled, tiny and hesitant like he didn't quite believe. Then, "You didn't have to give away your deadname."

A shrug, an awkward smile. "I kind of did, if I wanted to explain. Besides, that name served me pretty well for the first fourteen years of my life, so it's not as if I hate it. It brought me you, too." Immediately Nate clapped a hand over his mouth - but it was too late, the words had already left him. At least it was too dark for Mac to see the red flush spreading across his cheeks. Hopefully.

The cigarette hung, forgotten, between Mac's fingers. Ash collected by his foot but he didn't seem to notice. He dragged his free hand down his face, eyes slipping closed. "So if you and Lucy have the same name, which one of you is my true soulmate?"

Shit. That was a really good question. One Nate didn't know how to answer. Once again silence descended and this time, Nate had no clue how to break it. Maybe he didn't want to; maybe it was better if he just said nothing. That way he couldn't make things worse like he always did because he never knew when to shut up-

"I guess it doesn't matter. Lucy died a long time ago and I hate it, but it doesn't stop it from being true." When Mac pulled himself to his feet it was slow, laborious, and he couldn't help the wince as he clutched his ribs. Nate watched as he walked across the small space between them - only to lower himself right by his side.

Even in the icy cold of the abandoned store Mac radiated warmth and Nate leaned in closer without even thinking. It felt amazing, sitting so close they almost touched. It didn't change the fact that neither of them knew what to say.

So Nate tried. If he fucked up then hey, at least he did something. He plucked the cigarette from Mac's hand without a word and inhaled. He hadn't smoked since he married Nora but hell, if there was ever a time to start again it was now. "I wish I had some big speech for you Mac, but I'm as lost as you are. I guess we're both your soulmates. I heard of that happening before the war. It was like some big myth that no one really believed, but once or twice I ran into someone who claimed to have two soulmates."

"So it's like... a second chance?"

Nate only shrugged. He couldn't claim to know any more than Mac. Maybe whatever higher power - or force of nature or whatever - had made a mistake. Or maybe, hopefully, it was their chance to grieve lost loved ones and find a better life together. "I guess it's whatever we want it to be," Nate replied quietly. In the quiet of the empty store his voice echoed - so close yet so far away. He sighed as he prepared for his next words. It didn't make them sting any less. "If you want we can just pretend this never happened. Go back to how things were. I don't want this to ruin what we have."

The fact he wanted so much more was irrelevant. This was about Mac, not him.

Silence. Mac didn't say a word. His breath was quiet but it puffed out in a little cloud illuminated by the dim light filtering through the broken windows. Was it really that cold?

Nate's leather jacket slid from his shoulders as he wiggled out of it - and then he gently laid it across Mac's wide shoulders. The cool air hit him then and he shivered. "Look," he started, leaning in close to adjust the jacket, "I've always known how I felt, and I don't know if it's because of our soulbond or if it's because you're so fucking fantastic or what, but I've felt this way for months. It feels so great to get it out in the open but I don't want it to make you uncomfortable. So it's your choice what we do."

He sat back, back resting against the ancient display - but Mac's hand reached out to grab his arm and ground him to a halt. Without his jacket Nate's arm was bare to the elements and Mac's hand was freezing but that simple touch left Nate's mind whirring. 

"Tell me."

"Huh?"

"Tell me how you feel."

Nate blinked. Once, twice, three times. The words registered a moment later and his eyes snapped to meet Mac's. In the dark his smile looked nervous - but Mac was never nervous. "I uh," Nate stuttered - and his mind went utterly blank. What was he supposed to say? That he had been in love with Mac for months? That he was almost thankful to that idiot raider for revealing the truth? Absolutely not.

After a moment Mac let his grip loosen, but he didn't quite let go. "Lucy's death fucked me up. A lot. I don't know if I'll ever get over her and I don't know if I want to. The thing is, I'm still in love with her; but that doesn't mean I don't love you, too."

Wait, what?

Mac's hand did drop, then, and it drained every last drop of warmth from Nate. He shuddered, arms wrapping around his narrow torso. 

"This is so fucked up," Mac muttered. Nate didn't have the heart to remind him of his language. "Considering all the other nonsense with soulmates you'd think I'd be used to it, but these damn things never stop with the surprises."

Nate registered the words. He understood them. Yet everything Mac said filtered out, disappeared into the background and only one phrase stuck in his mind. "You said you love me," he said softly, smiling.

Mac's gaze shifted, brow quirked. For a moment he looked lost, confused and oh so tired - and then he cracked the tiniest grin that lit up his entire face. "Yeah, I did."

Nate's own lips spread into a grin against his will. His chest bloomed with warmth and for a moment he forgot how freezing he was. He stared at Mac and Mac stared back - everything else died out into nothing. "Good, because I love you too."

Mac's lips parted as if to speak - but all Nate wanted to do was lean in and kiss him. But no words left Mac's mouth and there was no time to kiss as everything snapped back into focus with terrible clarity. Voices. There were voices outside, harsh and rough and angry. 

Mac's grin faltered, brows pinching in concern. His eyes were dark. "What the hell?"

"Looks like the raiders didn't stop looking for us," Nate whispered back. A shadow fell over them and he ducked, chest skipping - and a dark figure passed outside. "We need to hide."

Mac didn't need told twice. Nate's leather jacket dropped to the floor as he scrabbled for his knife and then he was gone, weaving through empty clothes racks and stiff plastic mannequins. 

Nate cast the door one wary glance before following. Why did they have to arrive now? Now, when they were in the middle of... whatever this was. He kept low as he manoeuvred past coat racks and mannequins and shoe stands - but he was distracted, his mind refused to focus as his eyes squinted in the dark. When he hit something solid he let out a squeak and tumbled back - but a sturdy arm caught him.

"Nate, seriously?" Mac rolled his eyes and tugged him closer. It was cold but Mac's body still felt so warm, so inviting even as he towed him through the store.

"Where are we going?"

"Store room. They haven't come into the store yet and if we keep quiet, they might not bother."

It made sense. The raiders hadn't tried to storm the place yet, hadn't made a single shot or gave any indication they knew the place was occupied. Nate followed Mac's lead as they twisted and turned, beelining for the back of the store. The only sound was Nate's ragged breathing and the thud of his heartbeat.

They reached a door labelled staff only, the sign peeled away to almost nothing. Nate stood, casting a nervous glance behind but no one was there. Yet. An experimental jostle of the handle revealed it was completely locked. "Dammit."

"I've got this."

"Mac, I know you can pick a lock but we don't have any-" A pair of keys suddenly appeared in his vision, dangling on a long chain. "Oh, never mind."

The door swung open a moment later to reveal a room so small it was more like a glorified cupboard. "We're really hiding in here?"

Mac snatched his hand and towed him inside, grip firm. "Do you have a better idea?"

No, he didn't. He relented, stepping inside and letting the door swing closed behind him. Beside him Mac shifted, and the click of a door locking broke the silence. "Did you just lock it?"

"If it's locked they'll figure it's empty."

There was absolutely no way this was going to work. Nate opened his mouth to say so when footsteps reached his ears. It silenced him, left him straining his ears for any other sound, any clue as to what was happening outside. For a moment there was only his own breath and the creak of the old floorboard as he shifted from foot to foot. Then a voice filtered through the wooden door, muffled and indecipherable.

The room was too small, too stifling and the darkness was so complete Nate couldn't even see Mac right beside him. Thudding footsteps passed outside, so close he swore he felt the ancient floor move beneath him. He held his breath, pressed himself into the furthest wall, prepared for that door to burst open-

Then the footsteps moved past, the owner completely oblivious to the two people hiding only a meter away.

Seconds ticked past. They waited, and waited, until Nate was sure no one was there. He let out a ragged gasp of breath and for a moment he thought he might pass out. "Holy shit," he murmured, "I can't believe this worked."

"Honestly, me neither," Mac admitted.

Nate groaned - but he didn't waste time scrabbling for the door. It didn't open and he scowled into the darkness - until Mac elbowed him to the side. A moment later it clicked unlocked and the door opened.

He had never been so happy to see such a dirty, murky store.

The door snapped closed as they abandoned the store room and Nate spun, grin so wide it was almost splitting his face in two. He gathered Mac into his arms without a second thought, toned arms snaking around his torso to pull him close. A second later he buried his face in Mac's shoulder, too. "Today has been wild."

Mac didn't hug. The best he ever did was give an awkward shoulder pat or a one armed embrace that lasted less than a second - so Nate didn't expect him to wrap his own, thicker arms around Nate's waist and tug him even closer.

He would have been lying if he said he couldn't stay there forever. Mac was so warm and comfortable and this was the most amazing hug he had ever received. Not to mention he was finally embracing the man he loved, the man he had pined over like a kid for half a year. If this wasn't heaven, he didn't know what was.

When they did pull away they stayed close, Nate's hands loose around Mac's arms. It was weird, how so much had shifted in that one moment. How Mac held himself, so much more relaxed, no ounce of him on edge. 

"So," Nate started, and he couldn't control the nervous little laugh that left him. "What now?"

It was impossible to decipher the look Mac was giving him. It was soft, softer than anything Nate had seen before but there was something else. Hesitance? Nerves? It was an expression he was sure was mirrored in his own face. "I want to do this," Mac spoke quietly, "but I need you to know this doesn't chance how I feel about Lucy."

"She was your wife; I wouldn't expect it to."

He nodded, and a tiny smile spread across his lips. Nate loved seeing Mac smile - it was a rare sight and one he treasured. "You're great, you know that? The only person in this whole Commonwealth I trust. The only one I care about."

Nate's heart swelled, his grin widened, and he wasn't even aware he was pulling Mac close until their foreheads bumped. "You're the best thing that's ever happened to me," he breathed, "I love you." The admission made his face burn. Even if he had said it only minutes ago, before being so rudely interrupted, his heart thudded against his ribs and blood rushed in his ears as if it was the first time he had uttered those words to anyone.

"I love you too."

A moment of hesitation, a second where Nate wondered if it was too soon, too quick - but then he decided hell, he had waited long enough. He brought his lips to Mac's, slow and careful, giving him time to pull away. He didn't. Then Nate was kissing him, finally kissing him. He tasted of cigarette smoke and sweat but it didn't matter, not when his arms snaked around Nate and pulled him flush against his broad chest. Nate let out a nervous laugh against Mac's lips and he huffed in response, deepening the kiss until Nate's head spun.

They broke apart, breathing heavy and eyes bright. The chill of the night was gone, he heaviness in his chest vanished. Until he remembered something. Nate winced, lips curling. "Dammit, Piper is going to be so smug. She's been telling me to talk to you for weeks."

Mac snorted, dark eyes rolling. "She's right. Anyway, worry about that later. Right now, all I care about is us."

He grinned and reached up to place a kiss to Mac's lips. "Yeah, me too."

The lingering threat of the raiders still lurked outside, and the threat of Piper's smug sarcasm was even worse. It didn't matter though because he finally had Mac in his arms. If this was a dream, Nate sure as hell hoped he never woke up.