Dancin until dawn.

[robotdick]

[The hardest part about keeping a secret is the waiting around. Nick's better at surprises and delayed gratification than most, but even he's having a hard time keeping a lid on this one. It takes planning, though, setting up a really romantic evening, even one as juvenile and silly as this. Thankfully, between Ellie and the Vaultie's pack-rat tendencies, Nick's managed to set up something genuinely pretty nice.

Nick had thought about clearing out the upstairs, but the odds of Hancock just wandering up there were too high. Instead, he cleared out the floor below theirs and went to work. The decorations were top notch, he'd figured out how to get SNOW to play music down here. Had set up spotlights, metallic streamers, the whole nine yards.

No high school prom had ever looked more prom-like. Vaultie had even provided balloons.

He had the whole thing sewed up, prom, romantic food, he even wore the nice outfit that the Vaultie had given him. All he required now was Hancock.

Nick tried to remain inconspicuous as he meandered through the Old Statehouse, but he was dressed to the nines. The look Farenheit gave him was longsuffering, but she didn't say anything otherwise. When he finally got to Hancock's door--he knocked and adjusted his tie.]

Comments

[robotdick]

Who cares what the neighbors say? [Nick can play at calm and exhibitionist--in private--but normally: him. He very much cares. At the moment, though, he's "throwing caution to the wind" and caging his husband against the wall of the lift. Nick's no more a cage than Hancock is willing to be caged, so he figures it evens out in the end.]

Let 'em yap. [Nick has to bend down to press his forehead against his fiancee's. It had been comfortable with him in heels, same height all evening, but this little bend is the motion Nick's worn into his servoes. This is more comfortable. However, no sooner has Nick bent to kiss his brashly nude date than the elevator slows to a halt.

The doors chime and open, and Nick draws back with a little sigh.]

Such a short ride, what a shame.

[chem_break]

Easy for you to say; you're not the one lookin' so completely debauched

[ It's a real mockery of a complaint; really, Hancock is just having way too much fun playing at one of his favorite kinks; they've done it before, played at imaginary audiences, but Hancock can't turn own engaging in one of his classics, even just a little. An imaginary cage suits him just fine; making a game from the simple urge to be close to his loved one is exactly to the ghoul's taste. ]

Wait a sec [ Hancock folds himself against Nick's chest, head tucked against his collarbone in a posture like suggests meekness even while his tone is brazen and teasing. ] I changed my mind, don't want no one to see me in the buff... cover me up, won'cha love...?

[ Absolutely a play to steal his signature Few More Seconds, but the way he huddles up against Nick's chest (as though there is actually a chance of an unwanted witness) is pretty convincing, aside from his snide savoring chuckle. ]

[robotdick]

Yeah?

[Nick asks, even as he shrugs off his suit jacket and, like a proper gentleman, drapes it over his poor under-dressed date's shoulders. Seeing Hancock play at meekness is a real trip, Nick'll admit it, but he can try to play the opposite of that little role. Nick's suit jacket sits narrow on Hancock's shoulders, but that doesn't make much difference. Just for the show of it, Nick wraps an arm around his waist and draws him in closer, even as he turns to the apartment.]

Well you just stay real close. I'll protect that modesty of yours. [How he says this with a straight face, even Nick doesn't know, but he manages and puffs up like a big man as he guides his newly demure fiancee into their own apartment. It's absurd, but he's in an absurd mood, flying high on sheer delight.]

[chem_break]

Such a gentleman, can't imagine how I could possibly repay ya

[ Of course the offer of Nick's coat is utterly unnecessary, so Hancock shows his appreciation of the debonair play by huddling into the jacket proper, as though he actually has a scrap of propriety left worth protecting from the imaginary by-standers in the imaginary hallway that does not even exist. ]

Mighty kind'a ya. Don't want the neighbors to think you're steppin' out with some kinda jezebel or somethin now, do we?

[ He had not intended to ham up this act so much-- but Nick is just too precious, puffed up with an arm locked around the ghoul's waist, that the jet-eyed man can't help but fall in step, folding himself tightly against the synth's side and keeping his stride confined inside the other man's. He can't quite shake off his impish grin, but he does his best to conceal it turning his head and 'shyly' hiding his face against Nick's collar. ]

I can't bare to look, please tell me no one's watchin'

[robotdick]

[Nick's a good sport, or, well, he can be a good sport with things like this. Sure, he maybe goes a little overboard with the preparations, and yeah, he's been known to take it a bit too seriously, but so far he hasn't had any complaints (from Hancock). Coming on to his nude, ghoulish paramour in the elevator was a bit of a stretch for him, and he was all in from the start, but this turn is unexpected---

Not Hancock escalating. If John Hancock had a middle name, Escalation was a real contender. The escalation is to be expected in this and any situation involving the two of them--what Nick didn't figure was how hard demure, shy Hancock would hit. It's got him dumbstruck, the way he ducks his head against Nick's collar. If Nick's coat hadn't been abandoned upstairs, Hancock would have damn near tucked himself inside it and--well--he--

Nick takes a few easy steps into the apartment, arm wrapped securely around Hancock, and has to clear his throat before he can speak. He's damn lucky he can't blush, but he's only got a second or two of grace before his fans kick up and give him away entirely. Nick straightens up, folds his other hand into his pocket and tries for cocksure. He gets about halfway to the mark on that one.]

Nah--don't you worry, nobody around here's got the gall.

It's easy to throw around names until you figure out that jezebel is his Wife. Then, it gets less easy, on account of having their teeth punched out.

[Hancock fits into his side easy. The ghoul is just short enough, and just svelte enough that the spot right at Nick's shoulder and down are practically made for him to slide into. Having him curl up against Nick like this is--well, yeah, it's pretend and a joke at that, but damn. Just--damn.]

[chem_break]

[ Oh... fans. Now Hancock knows for sure he's doing something right; he wasn't aiming to completely fluster his fiancée here, more just freestyling his own playfulness for the excuse to stay as close as he could manage-- but fans. He certainly doesn't have to keep playing at this, there's no obligation, but now he sure as hell wants to.

The composes a relieved little sigh, and peeks up from his cozily nestled position; his head tips slightly to the left and right, as though checking for bystanders, before the ghoul takes a turn so he's standing at Nick's front, still wearing that arm slung around his waist. Typically the debonair fellow would favor a unabashed press, draping himself across Nick's chest like silk, but today he allows only the heat of his body to invade the synth. After a beat, his hands settle on Nick's collar, feather-light, and the shorter man carefully puts himself on the balls of his feet to close those sparse inches between them. He's mighty fond of leading Nick around by the tie, but this suits his gambit better.

He 'hesitates' with another quick glance around, stalling in the lead-up before a kiss, absolutely aiming to tease with the promise he bides through false vacillation. The friction he grants is barely a kiss, more a swaying brush of lips at the very corner of Nick's mouth. ]

So protective... makin' me weak in the knees

[ Typically a drawled predatory purr, this time softly uttered with synthetic bashfulness, as the ghoul catches Nick's eyes and then 'hides' as though flustered by the dicey nature of a stolen kiss and murmured confession coupled. He's rarely without a hat (his chosen for the night still chilling upstairs with Nick's trench coat) so he takes advantage of the lacking, tucking his head beneath Nick's jaw and huddling close. ]

Walk me to the bathroom, would ya? Feelin' kinda swoony over here...

[robotdick]

[Hancock is one hell of an actor, all that charisma has him set up to play any role he wants to and Nick will never stop marveling at how he commits to the bit. His transformation from brazen exhibitionist to fainting engenue has Nick enthralled. His compliment hits Nick square in the chest and--yeah--that is--that is definitely the crux of this particular fascination.

That realization has Nick's fans kicking up higher and this time they pair with something adjacent to shame? Defensiveness? He's not--he isn't some creep--he--but then he's got a bare brush of lips over his and Hancock tucks himself right up under his chin, and Nick's through the other side of his objections.

Turns out he has a weakness for blondes, red dresses, and opportunities for chivalry. He's got some damned predictable turn-ons but he can't even regret that overmuch, not with Hancock in the circle of his arms.]

Yeah?

Don't you worry; I gotcha.

[Nick's first instinct with someone who claims to be swooning isn't to walk them backward toward a door. He really shouldn't, but Hancock's so committed to this that it feels a little bit like a cop out if he doesn't commit alongside him. Nick bends a little bit and shifts his arms, sweeping the ghoul up off his feet and into a bridal carry.

Last time they did this was out of necessity, but the framing had been about protecting his reputation as a chivalrous guy. This time, it's just because he wants to. Nick politely averts his eyes from his passenger's general nudity and meanders across his apartment toward the bathroom.]

[chem_break]

[ It takes a certain default level of theatrics to walk around in a costume all the time, and Hancock passes that default with flying colors; his creativity is versatile and he can bend it on a whim to all sorts of interesting and enjoyable games; sure, he's actually a shameless exhibitionist but he's also pretty damn obsessed with anything that revs Nick's engines and makes him hot under his silicone. So he's more than happy to play at any part that sparks those cherished reactions.

So he formulates a surprised little gasp that is almost Nick's name as the synth sweeps him off his bare feet and curls himself demurely into the support of his chest. He remembers the last time Nick carried him like this-- but what they're doing now? A fun, freestyle remix, and a much kinder memory than post torture patch up. Hancock will take it, gratified in the grit of his atoms that he's found another of Nick's (of their) unspoken enjoyments to absolutely abuse. ]

My Hero

[ Probably too easy to sling that quiet awed praise; it fits the script of dazzled doll, but it's drawn off his dusty past, a context Hancock already provided passing over that precious comic of his. Ah, whatever, good actors use what they got.

That politely averted gaze inspires some coy improv; Hancock huddles into the cover of his borrowed suit jacket, slides one hand sensually shyly across his chest (protecting a modesty he does not in fact have) and delicately crosses one knee over the other as though terribly bashful about his half-aroused, thoroughly debauched state. ]

You're such a stand up guy, Mr. Valentine. Takin' such good care'a little ol' me. How did I ever get so lucky?

[robotdick]

[As usual, Hancock is playing him like a fiddle. Clever and quick as a whip, this one, and he's got every one of Nick's numbers. The praise hits all of Nick's buttons more effectively than either of them really assume it will and he has to stop halfway to the bathroom door, and duck his head for a second. He looks very much like he wants to grind the heels of his hands into his eyes--but his grin is still amused and wide. Nick huffs and then groans.

The look he throws Hancock is closer to a cringe than anything else, but his expression is all adoration for the ghoul in his arms.]

Gonna have my fans stalling out, you keep that up. [Nick can't blush but he's doing his best impression of someone that can. If he had blood, he'd be red up to his ears. Amused, he adds, softly:] Damned predictable is what I am, and you got me on the edge of an overheat just being cute.

[chem_break]

Hey, don't give yourself a hard time. I know ya pretty well by now, and ya probably noticed? Smarter than the average scavver. I'm pretty good with... extrapolation

[ The way that last word crosses his tongue sounds obscene, somehow. Hancock has eased the throttle on his demure coquette act for the moment, slid into a casual friendly affection that is amorously defensive on Nick's behalf. ]

Be a real shame to overheat ya just by talkin to ya... without meaning to, anyway.

[ Hancock shifts his weight to suggest he's ready to be placed down, and his approximating-overclocked fiancée seems to get the idea. With his feet on the floor, Hancock still doesn't go far, leaning atypically gentle against Nick's chest and unweaving the knot of his tie. ]

If you're feelin hot under the collar... maybe time to ditch the collar? I was supposed to help you outta this mildly soiled attire, wasn't I...?

[ He removes Nick's tie criminally slow. ]

[robotdick]

[Nick almost groans at the idea--if anyone would attempt to overheat him with talking alone, it'd be his fiancee. He doesn't object in theory, but in this particular moment it just feels a little much. He puts Hancock down and is relieved that the ghoul doesn't immediately head for the bathroom. He didn't expect him to, of course, but he's glad all the same.

Hancock's so gentle undoing the knot in his tie that Nick doesn't even feel the tug of it. If he weren't watching him do it, it would have slipped Nick's notice entirely. The pull of that silk against his shirt is whisper quiet, drawn out as far as it'll go by Hancock's fingers.]

I think that was suggested.

[Nick's got one arm around Hancock's waist, committing the other one to the same hold is easy as anything. He's still feeling a touch bashful, but Hancock's right--he's clever, it's not like Nick wears that particular proclivity on his sleeve. That Hancock figured him out is hardly a shock--]

You're damn good at playing cute and innocent. Every day I learn about some new talent of yours and it never stops being impressive.

[Nick's not exactly playing, not with the quiet compliments. He means it and everything about him is sincerity tinged with some flavor of fond awe. His smile pulls a touch wider as that thought completes and Nick adds:]

And now I get to punch anybody who calls you a jezebel. If that ever comes up.

[chem_break]

[ Aiming for a verbally stimulated overheat does sound like a lovely way to pass an evening but, Nick's already run himself a little too hot once this evening, Hancock has hardly forgotten; he's far more willing to indulge recklessness with his own body than Nick's, unless explicitly invited.]

Think I got bit by the theater bug once? Privileged information, don't go passin' it around

[ Leisurely the slighter man begins to pick apart the buttons of Nick's top, not quite as brazen as his usual composure, but not quite shyly either. His motions certainly savor their slowness, like dripping honey. ]

Can't have folk thinkin' their Mayor is the dishonest type

[ He explains, not quite brags, and releases a puff of dry sandy snickers at Nick's avid readiness to protect the honor of his wife. ]

Probably easier ways to get my blood hot than roughin' up a guy defending my honor, but yeah, I'd dig it

[ Buttons all undone, Hancock all too delicately peels off Nick's shirt, taking his sweet time to savor every drop of closeness and intimacy he can wring from the drawling motions. ]

Bonus points if ya stake your claim afterwards

[ His impish wink punctuates the retreating flutter of Nick's shirt. Dexterous radiation-tanned fingers dip down the synth's front, languidly wandering towards his belt. ]

[robotdick]

[Nick has to let go to really shrug his dress shirt off the rest of the way. He does it, but with a touch of his own brand of theatrical reluctance. It's still a strange feeling, being shirtless in front of anyone. His silicon isn't even the same as before, he's had more parts replaced than he can count (figuratively), but it's an old habit that has him hesitant to show that much skin. He's surprisingly accustomed to Hancock touching him--it rarely even occurs to him that he once wasn't.

It only occurs to him now because the shirt he's wearing isn't his usual one, so it feels just slightly strange when he bends his arms to shrug it the rest of the way off.

It's funny, he can remember warning him about touching about as clearly as he can remember Hancock's own reticence to undress. Now he's got the ghoul stark naked and undressing him. The novelty of it, the closeness, warms his core.]

Stake my claim? We talking pinning you to a wall and making out, or threatening everyone in earshot because you're with me? Cause I could go either way on that one.

[chem_break]

[ Hancock probably would remember his reluctance to undress if he'd been stepping out with anyone but Nick-- but he hadn't. There's simply no need, his synth fiancée never leaves him wanting. That persistent anxiety about relinquishing his costume gets quieter and quieter every time Hancock strips for his paramour, and he pays it less thought upon each reoccurrence. Would the worry persist if it wasn't Nick he was dancing with? Maybe, but it's feeling more and more like a moot point. ]

Hmmm... [ A theatrically pensive look crosses Hancock's face as he takes his time to weigh each option ] Probably gunna depend on the situation? But soft answer? Both.

[ Even odds on if he's joking or serious, that dusk-shadow chuckle is no clear indication; Nick's belt slides free with as much haste as every other action as the ghoul winds the leather around his palm, collecting lazy coils. ]

Not that I can't defend my own honor, mind ya, just love to see a good man bend over backwards for me. Metaphorically. Usually.

[ He can't resist the persistent demanding urge to lounge closer, curling to that spot he fits so nicely against Nick's collar, tucked to his chest, as he slides his fingers beneath the slack of the synth's waistband. ]

Really do appreciate the offer'a chivalry, Mr. Valentine

[robotdick]

[It's Nick's turn for a dry chuckle as Hancock picks both and, with excruciating slowness, pulls Nick's belt free from his slacks. He tucks himself back into that nice open space, the one shaped like him, and Nick's briefly torn between wanting to wrap his arms around Hancock in a perfectly (mostly) chaste embrace and, well, wanting to bend over backward for him.]

Oh, I know you don't need my help. The poor bastard harassing you does--getting socked in the face by a synth is basically the best option for 'im.

[He can't quite resist the urge to wrap a hand around the back of Hancock's head and pull him in, tucking him as close as possible. Bare fingers insinuate themselves on flesh that Nick rarely thinks about, smoothing over his hips, and Nick lets his own hands drift to the nape of Hancock's neck and the small of his back.]

You know, I got the urge for a soak. You alright with sharing the bath with me?

[chem_break]

Don't mean that I don't appreciate the effort. Aside'a the sexy vibe of you bustin some teeth for me? Real sweet that ya'd even wanna raise a fist for the cause my dignity

[ He feels adrift in the most peaceful sense of belonging as Nick closes a hand around the back of his head, and cradles him through a cuddle; he sighs comfortably to the tenderly creeping touch down his neck and spine. ]

Sweetheart suits you as well as me, but I gotta try an' win some points for originality

[ His sated murmurs cut off at Nick's offer to share a bath; Hancock perks up with a soft but delighted smile, already nodding his agreement. Water and Nick don't mix often, Hancock will absolutely take advantage of the rare occasion. ]

Somethin, somethin, toaster in bathtub joke. There, outta the way. Let's do it.

[ One might guess from the ghoul's grin that someone just offered him a shiny new gun to play with; the level of jubilation is quite on par. Kid in a candy store on Christmas eve, or however the hell that goes. ]

[robotdick]

You want to try out a different pet name? I'm all ears.

[Hancock's all shiny eyes and soft smiles, jumping at the chance and Nick gives him a fond look as he moves toward the washroom. Or, rather, as he tries to move toward the washroom. Without his belt, Nick's not got much definition holding his pants up and he ends up having to undo them and kick them off. Now the only pieces of clothing that Nick has on Hancock are his hat and shoes, but both those are easily dealt with.

Snow, helpful (apologetic) AI that it is, flips on the runner lights as they step into the bathroom. It's not a great amount of light for getting ready, but the halflight is as dreamy here as it was upstairs. Nick bends to press a kiss to Hancock's forehead before he breaks away and goes to activate the taps and fill the tub.

In truth, he will probably always be jumpy about water, but nowadays he's mostly water-tight. So long as Hancock doesn't dunk him and nobody splashes, this should be fine. It's also a much faster way to clean off all the mess that soaked through his own clothing. It's doubly nice because he has someone to enjoy it with him.]

I'm gonna veto Toaster, right now though.

[chem_break]

Think my usual rotations pretty well suited. Sunshine, 'cuz ya light up my life. Gorgeous, when you're close to crashin. Think only The Mayor would leverage 'doll' at ya cuz he's kind of a dick but he thinks you got a pretty mouth. What else I got...

[ Hancock's post-buzz state of vision appreciates the low lights as he strolls comfortably into the bathroom. For once in a blue moon he actually manages to toss his clothing into the open washer, and someone really ought to award him several medals for the feat. The kiss to his forehead is quite a fair accommodation, earning a pleased little smirk from the slighter man as his paramour parts from him to attend those taps. ]

Valentine-o-mine, cuz'a the blitzed and beautiful look on your face first time I said it. Think that about covers it? Suppose with the whole pending matrimony thing I could get away with Darlin'... you're so sweet to me, could call ya Sugar

[ He meanders through a few idle suggestions, ears keen for the sounds of struggling fans; he's taking shots in the dark here, but ghouls have fair night vision. He's got an idea where to aim. On the way to the tub Hancock steals Nick's hat (not actually too terrible soiled, thanks to its altitude) and flings it dexterously towards the washer like a frisbee; it catches the corner of the machine and hangs there neatly.

Satisfied with his breezy showmanship the ghoul drops himself into the bath; he can never be assed to wait for the thing to fill up properly unless he's otherwise occupied, and tonight with Nick scrubbing off with him, the impatience treads right into eagerness. He doesn't verbally hurry Nick to join him, still empathetic to the synth's edginess around water beneath his own delight at the prospect of a shared bath. ]

Could cut the extra finesse and just say it plain, call ya my heart. Any'a those ring your bell, Slick?

[ Of course he sneaks in that last one, a personal favorite he can't leave unspoken. ]

[robotdick]

[Hancock drapes himself into the tub, lounging in the space like it was made for him. The taps groan and whine in the walls, but once they start filling the tub they keep it down to the occasional thunking rattle. The rising water catches the lights and reflects prettily off of Hancock's eyes as he drops his last comment.

Unfortunately for him (and his erstwhile investigation) Nick's fans haven't stopped since he put a pause on that little bit of savior roleplay. He hadn't been joking about that cute act pushing him too close to overheating. Hancock, however, does have a pretty keen ear for the power state of his fans (impressive considering he doesn't have ears), so he may catch a few of the stutters between the groaning of the pipes and the rush of warm water.

Valentine-o-mine will always hold a special spot in his database, but it's right up there with Slick and Sunshine. Really, none of those suggestions were bad and it was a world more flattery than Nick is used to contending with. The one that really makes his fans jump, though, is 'my heart'. He's a romantic, deep down in his code, and that sort of precious, Hallmark language gets him every time. The wasteland isn't made for language like that, though, so he doesn't expect it...but it hits every time.]

Solid assortment you got there. [Nick tries to make a show of considering them all, perched on the edge of the tub, waiting for the water to rise before he climbs in. He's mostly just staring into Hancock's eyes, though.]

Not sure I'd be too pleased with Doll entering the regular rotation, of course, but I like em all just fine. If I had to pick a favorite?

Mmmm--gotta go with Slick. [Nick shrugs a little and idly toes off his shoes so he can twist and drop his fancy watertight legs right on in the drink. Last time they did this, he'd shut off part of his sensor net to avoid getting overwhelmed--this time, he's...sorta looking forward to the all-around nature of it.]

Sometimes you hit it dead on the money, first try. Or maybe I'm just sentimental. Or both, hard to say.

[chem_break]

[ A stray thought strikes and the ghoul steals a moment to tempt fate and fiddle with the relatively quiet taps; they punish him with a mortified, ungodly high-pitched whine and suddenly Hancock is muttering 'Christ' and 'sorry ladies' and 'okay shut the hell up now' under his breath as he scrambles to find the acceptable safe-combo balance of hot and cold that with both yield the temperature he wants and hush the temperamental pipes.

Eventually he gets what he's aiming for, pleasantly cool water to ease Nick's spike in temperature. ]

Yeah, like I said, The Mayor's an asshole kinda on purpose, but otherwise? Guess I can add a few more terms to the ol' lexicon. In my experience, never hurts to have a sizable vocab... or a couple extra ways to say I love ya

But I'll keep that preference in mind, front and center.

[ the bath fills up quicker with a body in it, so Hancock thinks to leave the pouring taps in favor of making more space for Nick but instead, impulse drives him in the opposite direction. Tonight his apatite for touch seems bottomless as he all but glides through the water and folds his arms across Nick's knee. He props his chin upon his crossed arms and shoots Nick a dreamy stare that boarders on demure. ]

Gunna go with 'both', in this case-- but speakin'a dead on the money, first try? Kinda aside that, I gotta say, I'm a little bummed out to be the second best at, uh, oral congress, in this relationship. But I gotta admit when I'm beat, Slick.

[ Oh look he's in a good mood time to be a cheeky little anarchy imp. ]

[robotdick]

What?

[Nick's just a shade of offended on Hancock's behalf. It supercedes his own flustered reaction to a compliment like that entirely, leaving him looking more confused than anything else.]

I don't know what you're talking about--that was the best I've ever had.

[The fact that Nick has never had any, notwithstanding.

He can't bend far enough to meet Hancock with him hanging off his knee like that, but he can gently nudge the ghoul with his knee, which he does. This is so comfortable, so intimate, even with Hancock vascilating between engenue and imp (not that Nick doesn't love it).]

Besides--it's not a contest.

[Says the guy who's winning.]

[chem_break]

Okay, well that's not much of a complement until ya give me a couple more shots, at least. You got no baseline-- you can't hypothesis off one data-point, that's just bad science. Irresponsible, is what it is

[ The gentle nudge of that knee spurs the ghoul to cling to Nick's calf in stubborn opposition to budging, but a split second later he relents the occupation of the synth's limb and scoots to the side, lending plenty of room in the jacuzzi tub. ]

Course it's not, but if it were, you'd win hands down. That not needing to technically breathe thing? What an unfair advantage, and don't even get me started on the lack of gag reflex. I am one lucky bastard, if I ever felt like braggin about it

So technically, you win? But really, I win. That's the real truth of the matter.

[... Wow Hancock just realized how long they've both been stalled in that baby-doll stare; his grin twists towards sheepish and he finally practices another mechanism of common sense, function over infatuation, and scoops up some water to splash against his own face. ]

...Okay, maybe I do like gettin' clean a little... don't you dare repeat that to another living soul, ya hear? Softer side'a me's just for the future husband. Real private intel

[robotdick]

[Hancock splashes his face and Nick reaches to turn off the taps and silence the pipes. He holds off sinking into the water until Hancock's finished scrubbing at his face--just an overabundance of caution around splashing, old habits and all--but when he does? It's actually divine. The cold water, turns out, was a brilliant move and the abrupt shock of it against his overheated silicon is making a really, really strong case for regular bathing.

He doesn't quite sizzle when the water rises up and settles just below Nick's chest, but the temperature of the water does tick up a few degrees very rapidly. The cool water syphons off heat faster than Nick's generally accustomed to and all his metal bits seem to have opinions about that--that is: his ribs, limbs, and the mesh net under his skin literally whine and creak as they indulge in liquid cooling.

It's easy to forget, even for Nick, that the heat that makes it to the other side of that thick silicon is already very dulled. Silicon is a really bad conductor of heat. Some of his more recent parts, however, do a much better job and, before long, his temperature is equalized with the water and the water is considerably warmer than the ambient temperature.]

My lips are sealed. Scout's honor.

[Nick drawls as he relaxes. He props his arms along the edge of the tub, against the tile and well away from the water. This, coincidentally, puts one right behind Hancock's shoulders.]

If you want to do that all again, for science, can't say I'd object...but I have to stress how much I enjoy the reverse.

[chem_break]

[ as an amateur chemist Hancock grasps enough basic science to understand temperature transference; he notices immediately as the water heats up and the overt physical reaction (though problematic for computers in general) gratifies him quite luridly. ]

Jeez, hot under the collar was the right call, huh? Almost steamed up the place, didn't ya?

[ He's teasing as his fine spirits incline; the uptick in temperature has a nicely relaxing effect on his muscles as the sensations shift from cool to warm the closer he sits to his synth paramour. Those creaks and whines of Nick's mechanics are somehow satisfying too, the yield of the ghoul's thoughtful efforts to ease the issue he absolutely caused. ]

Huh... so that's what it sounds like when ya shiver. Good to know.

[ That arm around his shoulder inclines Hancock to lay (carefully, amid the whorls of water) with his back in the cradle of the synth's elbow. A lazy gravity drags him a few inches downward until his head weighs against Nick's collar as though the ghoul has found a new favorite spot to tuck himself. ]

Mmmm... hey, on a totally unrelated topic, how good are ya at... multitasking?

[ The questions is posed so innocently it somehow circles right back around to criminal in composure. ]

[robotdick]

[Earlier this evening, Nick asked if Hancock was into vanilla and, by all accounts, set himself up for the wry look his paramour shot him. This question gets a cocked eyebrow from Nick and a huff of a laugh. His wits are working much quicker than they had been, what with all the liquid cooling happening.]

Am I good at multitasking?

[Asked the synth who was currently running no less than a thousand separate tasks through his CPU. He supposed that there was some nuance to be had in answering--his ability to multitask was directly inverse to how much of his attention Hancock was actively hoarding--but that's not what the ghoul means.]

Depends. [Nick's wry look goes openly curious as he comfortably lets the heat in him dissipate. His fans cut off, mid-sentence, because they're not necessary.] What've you got in mind?