Work Text:
"I really think you should slow down with the chems, John." Nick supplied rather casually as he watched the ghoul pull out his second jet canister of the hour. Hancock scowled at him, rolling his eyes as he watched the synth light another cigerette for himself.
It was rather difficult, the detective wasn't addicted to smoking per say, infact synths lacked the ability to get addicted to any substance, but the way he would almost always have a lit cigerette in his hand whilst chastising others for using chems really grinded Hancock's gears. Everyone used chems these days, why did it matter so much?
With a sigh, Hancock shoved the canister back into his pocket, sneakily maneuvering his hand to open the tin of Mentats hidden inside. He sneakily popped a few into his mouth, maybe more than necessary, he couldn't really tell and didn't care to check.
The two walked side by side, sunlight dancing through the gaps in the tall buildings of The Boston Common. It was all insanely bright for Hancock, something he'd learnt was most likely the result of his ghoul transformation rather than the perminant hangover he had.
Who knew nightvision would have such a shitty downside?
Nick was talking again, his words slurring in a way that Hancock was sure must've been due to his hearing. He reached into his pocket, sneakily taking another Mentat and popping it into his mouth. At that point, he'd probably reached his hourly Mentat limit, but something didn't feel right and he needed to fix it before Nick started to lecture him like a child again.
Pulling the Jet canister back out of his pocket, he managed to sneak a few more puffs. Honestly, what was he thinking.
The world went fuzzy all of a sudden, the surrounding buildings becoming giant blobs in his vision. He stopped walking, head spinning and ears ringing violently. Thinking became impossible, he didn't recognise whoever the hell was stood infront of him. He was sure they were supposed to be doing something together, but what was it? The figure was talking to him, mouthing their words. They could at least speak to him properly for God's sake.
"Huh?" Hancock replied, swaying on the spot.
"I asked you if you were okay. You stopped in the middle of the street. Did you take more chems??" Nick examined Hancock's face, stepping closer towards him hesitantly. This wasn't the first time that Nick had seen the ghoul overdo it on chems, but everytime he did he always hoped it'd be his last.
Hancock squinted his eyes at the detective, mouth twisting into a grimace as his brows furrowed in concentration. He nodded slowly, clearly not understanding anything that Nick had just said to him. Nick sighed, gently grabbing the ghouls arm in an attempt to guide him along. It looked like they were going back to Goodneighbour.
Hancock stumbled the first few steps, body eventually giving up on him as his knees buckled and he passed out. Well shit.
Nick reacted quickly, thankfully catching him before he hit the ground. He froze for a moment, unsure on what to do as he felt himself lower both him and Hancock to the concrete below.
This wasn't like him, he always knew what to do. It was as if his synthetic brain has suddenly short circuted and finally given out partially, and at the worst time too. Maybe it was panic? No, he didn't panic, he didn't have time to do such things. Shifting Hancock onto a more comfortable position in his lap, he decided that a good thing to do first was look him over. They were in a fairly sheltered and safe area, at least when accounting for the fact that they were in a combat zone and stuck out like a sore thumb.
He loaded up his biometric scanners, looking over the ghoul's current condition. He checked his pulse, scanned for any injuries or illnesses and even managed to scan for any unnatural chemicals in his blood. The good thing about being an Institute labrat was that he was fitted with all sorts of features, even if not all of them worked perfectly.
The results of his scans flashed before his eyes, a knot in the pit of his nonexistant stomach unravelling as he confirmed that Hancock was not infact dying. He had overdosed, yes, but the levels of chems in his blood were only lethal for a human, ghouls could withstand twice the amount and still survive.
Breathing a sigh of relief, Nick planned the safest route back to Goodneighbour. It was a real shame that the closest that town had to a real Doctor specialised in robotics and memories, but Doctor Amari was still familiar with the human body, and Nick was not risking taking Hancock to Diamond City.
Hancock woke up in the Old State House , feeling rather fucking lousy. He couldn't remember much apart from taking one too many chems and passed out in the middle of the street. How fucking embarrassing.
"You're awake." A familiar voice came from the shadows, causing Hancock to practically jump out of his skin. Nick stepped towards him, arms crossed in clear dissatisfaction. He was missing his coat, a fact that Hancock was going to bring up until he realised he was using it as a blanket.
"Look, Nicky I'm sorry." He shrugged, fidgeting with the freyed hem of the detective's coat. He could hardly look Nick in the eyes, though maybe that was partly because they were glowing so bright.
Nick simply sighed, shaking his head and laughing softly. "You never learn, do you?"
Hancock wanted to argue back and insult the detective for being such a cocky bastard, but instead he held his tongue and simply flipped over to face the cushions of the couch. He was too tired for this shit.