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Dusk was setting in the summer sky. Purples, reds and oranges streaked the surroundings like a painting. The golden orb of the sun was mellowing into an amber ball, still hot, heating the air around the island. Ash Thomas, sat on a ramshackle bench with an upturned bucked for a table staring at the craggy rocks along the shore. The hypnotic crash of the waves were soothing as the white froth collapsed against the unyielding dark rock.
Ash felt a sense of calm. A serenity that he had longed to feel for over a year. It had taken a few weeks to settle since he blew the Institute sky high. There had been the initial furore of what he and the Railroad had done which had thrown them all into the limelight. Then there was the tracking down of the coursers that had been allowed to escape to protect the lives of innocent men and women when he ordered the evacuation. The funeral for Glory had been particularly hard on all of them...Damn he was tearing up again. He took a swig of a now very warm beer before placing it back in the sand. He took an inhale of breath, letting the salty air, deep into his lungs and blinked back the tears.
Desdemona had given him a leave of absence a few weeks ago now the worst was over. Tinker Tom had taken them to the island in the Vertibird much to Shaun's elation. He had sat next to Tom asking him about the machine before sitting and pointing to a world he had only read about. Shaun loved Spectacle Island. He played in the surf, helped with the farms and in his spare time built little machines. Ash was proud of his boy, it didn't matter he was a synth, he was still his son.
Spectacle Island was just what he had needed. A place to farm and grow in the relative peace of the Commonwealth. Most of his companions had decided to stay which gave him the feeling of home. Nick would always stay in Diamond City because that was where he was needed but promised he would visit often. Piper had decided to stay as long as she could get the printing press over, which Ash didn't see a problem with. Nat had came to stay and already her and Shaun were thick as thieve as they played in the mutfruit trees .
Cait and Curie had taken him up on the offer in a heart beat. Danse, well Ash wasn't so sure of, he had agreed to stay but they had fallen out over of the death of the Brotherhood. He needed time and perhaps would rekindle their friendship. Deacon, provisionally had said no, there was still too much work to do. Ash had assured him there was a house with his name on it whenever he needed. So far the spy had spent more time on the island than not. He was pretty sure that Deacon just needed an out, but would stay. Strong had gone to make his own tribe, once Ash had explained he was settling down more. Preston stayed in the Castle so they were close enough to be neighbours.
To Ash's delight, MacCready had stayed. But he knew deep in his heart that it probably wouldn't be long before he returned to the Capital. Of all his companions he had grown closer to the younger mercenary than any other. What had started off as a simple arrangement had flourished into a strong companionship. Mac had seen him at his worst, in grief, alcoholism, revenge and had stayed every step of the way. He had been there for Kellogg, the Brotherhood and every little battle in between.
It tore a wound in his heart. Ash wanted him to stay but couldn't keep him away from his boy. There was a mutual attraction between them, they had said as much but his own problems had got in the way.
“Mac! I tell you I have this shot, red top right.” Ash swigged back the whiskey, slamming the now empty glass onto the pool table. MacCready sat in a chair waving off his attempt with a sneer and a cigarette in his hand.
“Sure thing, hot shot. Remember I have seen you fire a gun, you aren't that good...” Ash pushed the sweaty dark steel of his hair that escaped his ponytail from his face to get a better view of the table. He brought the wooden cue between his fingers and fired it against the white ball. With a satisfying clack the white ball spun across the green felt, smashing against the red and dropping into the black pocket of the top right of the table.
“HA!” Ash had cried, “Not a good shot my ass!”
“What!” MacCready was up pushing him out of his spot and leaning over the table,”No way, old man!”
“Old jokes? I am only thirty! That all you got?”
“Well you had many, many, years of practice I guess.” Mac had snipped back with a chug of whiskey. Ash was suddenly very aware of his heat. Cigarettes and oil filled his nostrils, a smell that was undeniably and definitively MacCready. The red on his cheeks in his quick anger made the blue of his eyes sparkle. His defiance over the situation and the curling of his lips betraying his humour and it was all Ash could see.
Drunk and confident he trapped MacCready between his arms and the table. Ash was tall, at 6ft' 4” and he dwarfed the smaller man. Built strong as an ox from working fields as a teen and joining the army at eighteen, he loved that Mac was smaller, scrawnier lean muscle compared to his. It had been a long time since he was so attracted to a man. There had been a couple of nights with Anya and a third but they had been to her tastes not his. Almost always straight because they had wanted her not him. Robert though, he was everything he wanted down to his surly arrogance, bad jokes and sweet laugh.
Ash's lips found his. Their beards scraped together tawny brown against dark grey. Mac's mouth moved against his parting his lips. Ash returned the kiss passionately his tongue finding MacCready's with tastes of smoky sweet whiskey. The younger man moaned into him as Ash wrapped his arms round him feeling vertebrae under the thin white vest he wore. Ash was losing himself in the pleasure of it all when he felt hands push him back.
His own dark blue eyes met Mac's lighter topaz. There was no anger, definitely longing and gentle pleading. His tongue ran across his lower lip as if savouring the kiss. Ash backed off giving him room to breath in a room that felt suddenly too hot. Knowing he had over stepped the boundaries but too drunk to regret it.
“Look, I want this. I like you, I do. Just I want you to want it. Not when you are drunk.” Ash had nodded and had continued the game despite the fact his heart was aching with rejection. The next morning he had lied, saying he didn't remember anything and he knew Mac wasn't buying it. They hadn't spoken about it again. Though Ash had used it as the impetus to get sober. Hell he had been drunk for months now.
Ash pulled out a string that he kept under the white shirt and black waistcoat he wore. Two gold bands glinted in the dusk. He untied them feeling the weight as they rolled around his hand. Now as he sat contemplating his life which was suddenly laid in front of him he wanted Mac. There had always been the chance that neither of them would have survived, not going against the Institute.. In reality, Ash never thought he would have an opportunity to love again. Is this love? When he started this path, he fully expected to go out, guns a blazing and he had been a-OK with that. Knowing Mac was going to go...he didn't want to be selfish.
“Hey, big guy.” he heard the familiar crunch of MacCready's boots behind him,”What you doing out here?” Ash turned to the younger man feeling a blush in his cheeks. He rubbed the fuzz of his light beard nervously with the memories of pining over the merc. Feeling a little embarrassed at staying out so long that he had caught Mac on his rounds.
“Just getting a breather...” Ash replied with a smile taking a moment to admire the smaller man. His beautiful high cheek bones and the sandy brown of his goatee. A worried grimace marred his features. His sniper rifle was held proudly in his hands. Ash noticed he had forsaken his heavy duster for a dark green shirt in the hot summer heat. He shuffled and took a seat next to Ash on the bench. He was too close to him, the thoughts of their kiss rushed through his mind and Ash found himself looking away. And that smell, cigarettes and earth, wood and fire.
“So...uh...the beer?” Ash almost cursed for the snipers perceptiveness. He passed the Gwinnett bottle to Mac who took a swig out of the bottle. MacCready gave it back to him with apprehension. Ash took it and buried it into the wet sand to keep it cool as much as he could.
“I just wanted to see, if I could, now that it's all over. And well it's taken be a few hours to get through that one.” Ash shut the metal rings into his right hand with his left circling round his fist. His eyes fell upon the waves again drinking in the beauty of the sky and sun trying to ignore the ball of anxiety in his gut. How many times had MacCready gotten him to bed? Or listened to him cry when the alcohol really flowed. He had been there through the shakes, through the pleading. A part of him felt like he was betraying him. Except he had to know if he was better.
“And?”
“Well I don't feel the need to drink a whole bottle of whiskey in an hour and pass out over the cake machine again, if that's what you mean.” the answer was more flippant than what he had intended feeling the familiar fear of talking about himself.
“Well, that's good...” Ash turned to the merc their eye's meeting. Neither drew away from each other and Ash knew he would never get another chance.
“Thank you, Mac. For everything you have done. For helping me get sober, getting revenge and getting my boy back. Anything you need before you go – it's yours.” Ash ran a hand through the long white sideburns on the left side of his hair. MacCready stared with his mouth wide open. His eyebrows came down into a frown.
“Dude, you have done a lot for me as well. You helped me with the Gunners, and you got the cure for Duncan. I wasn't in a good place when you hired me either. I get it. You are my best friend, you don't need to go thanking me.”
“I want you to stay.” Ash blurted out feeling the blush spread all through his face, “I want you to get Duncan and I want you to come back.”
“When you come back...I would like for us to be more than friends. If a sullen old farmer is enough to bring you back, of course. I would like for you to stay...with me.” The words fell out of his mouth with a cringe worthy speed. The roaring flame of fear rushed through his gut. His heart was hammering in his chest, he could swear that MacCready could hear it. Seconds passed so slowly they may as well have been minutes. Ash swallowed hard.
MacCready's face showed a myriad of emotions. Confusion and surprise reigned and he opened and shut his mouth trying to find the words he needed. Ash opened his hand and saw the gold bands that had been Anya's and his overlapping perfectly. Not bearing the silence he scooted closer to MacCready. He was so close he could kiss those beautiful lips if he wanted. Wanting his comfort, wanting him.
“I wasn't sure if you felt that way about me.” MacCready said smiling and it lit light a fire of hope in Ash's chest. He let out a breath he didn't know he was holding, “I mean how about Anya? You still love your wife don't you?”
“A part of me will always love her, I think. But she is gone, and I am still here. Quite frankly she would have kicked my ass for grieving for so long,” which warranted a laugh from both of them, “She would have loved you though. I know I have her blessing...”
“I want to move on and I want it to be with you.” Ash placed a large hand on MacCready's. The sniper didn't flinch, “You are my best friend and I have loved you for a long time. But no pressure, I mean. If you don't share those feelings...”
MacCready's mouth was on his, pressing warmth between them. Ash let out a sob into his mouth, feeling tears of elation prickling at his dark blue eyes. Their mouths entwined like warm velvet. The prickling of bristles tickled his lip as Mac's mouth worked. Ash drank in his breath like he needed to survive, the lightest taste of cigarettes and the sweet taste of candy. MacCready twisted his hand in his their fingers interlacing even as they broke their kiss.
“Give you enough of a clue?” Mac quipped as a rogue tear fell from Ash's eye. All he could do was nod. Mac wiped the tear from his cheek brushing a hand lovingly against the dark grey of his beard, “You are the such a sap, big guy.”
“I know...” he buried his face into Mac's hand branding it with a kiss,” Can't help it you make me happy.” Ash opened Mac's hand and dropped the larger of the two bands into his hand without a word. The younger man placed it on his finger and shuffled closer to him. Ash pulled his arm's around the smaller man hugging him so he fit into the crook of his arm, head rolling onto his large shoulder. Ash rested his own head on the dark green cap that smelled of musky earth.
The last remnants of the sun dipped below waves in the horizon bringing the promise of a new dawn.