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

[chem_break]

[ Hancock grins, a wild thing quite unreasonably suited for the color red. Ah-ha, he told Nick not to think about it and he is (mission achieved) so now, Hancock is absolutely stealing a moment to stride over to the dresser where the scarlet scarf from the Silver Shroud cosplay is stashed. He hangs the flashy silk around his elbows, the arch of the fabric resting against the slight dip at the small of his back. ]

I hear ya-- apparently we got a show to catch?

[ He stills steals one more second to stand in front of Nick, flaunt the full effect of his dolled up look. He adjusts his hat, the corsage, the fabric stretched not quite too-tightly across his navel; only one of those actions isn't comletely superfluous. ]

Promise I won't keep ya fantasizing -all- night long

[ He delivers that loaded statement with extra gravel in his voice, shooting Nick a narrow craven stare over his shoulder, even as he recedes towards the doorway of the room upon the especially pronounced clicking of those heels. ]

Well, ya comin? Ain't ya gunna grab the door? Chivalry die when I was gettin' changed?

[ It's silly solicitous teasing as he struts towards the front of the apartment, watching to make sure Nick is watching him depart. ]

[robotdick]

[Nick is absolutely watching him depart, but he's also hot on Hancock's heels and nearly dives to get the elevator for him. The elevator hasn't gone anywhere since they departed so the doors swing open right as Hancock approaches, letting the ghoul stride seamlessly from the apartment. Nick waits for him to enter and turn before sliding into the elevator himself.

And here's the moment that Nick's been waiting for. They'd planned, rebuilt the floor practically, and now Nick got to show it all off for the person that had inspired all the effort. The elevator doors close and Nick clears his throat before reaching and pressing the button for the floor right below theirs. The button lights up in amber, as does the number above the door, and Nick steps back, looking pleased as punch.

The elevator moves and Nick gamely offers up his elbow to the ghoul at his side. If Hancock thought he looked like the cat who ate the canary before, well, Nick's not even bothering to hide that expression now. The elevator slows quickly, given they are only going one floor, and Nick doesn't even turn as the doors catch on the outer ones and start to open.

The light that spills into the elevator is colorful and dappled. The room beyond bathed in the ambient bubbles of gold light that spill off those icecicle lights. The disco ball, throws shards of sharp light across the room and one of them just happens to catch the sequins on that red dress. A burst of ruby flecks cover the elevator and the floor in front of them. The metallic streamers and balloons disguise the walls well enough and they frame the stage (it is a stage) and the "band". There are snack tables, drinks, the whole nine yards.

If it weren't for the fact that they were the only people in attendance, this would be a rather fancy party.]

Shall we?

[chem_break]

[ A brow ridge quirks at Nick's near-dive for the elevator; pulling a Lazarus on that chivalry, Nick? Hancock catches the odd haste but lets it slide, strolling into the elevator like he's a man accustomed to never having to open his own door. The moment those doors close Hancock's eyes are on Nick like he wishes his hands could be-- actually, elevator-rides do seem to inspire a certain friskiness in him, but Hancock manages to keep himself on a leash, if only because the ride is so very short.

He does take that offered arm though; wraps both his arms around Nick's elbow and practically melts against his side, an easy enough task with almost less layers of fabric between them than usual. Minus one bulky coat, a shirt with an excessive amount of ruffles, plus a hat with slightly narrower corners, Hancock can more or less hang off his paramour's metal frame; he was offered a sip of proximity and he takes a greedy gulp, but to his credit, remains otherwise well behaved.

For a split second, as those doors start to open so soon, he looks befuddled; but Nick does not. Nick looks like his slots just spun up a jackpot, and the expression only lacks full context until the doors are invitingly spread. The ghoul's ink splotch eyes go wide with stark surprise and delight as he steps into the most fancy shindig he's ever attended. A long low impressed whistle passed his puckered lips as he steps into the redecorated floor, momentarily forgetting to keep his pace slow and salacious. ]

Hole-eee shit. You wern't kiddin'. This place is cooler than a cryolater. Is that bar? Is that a dance floor? Is that a stage? Is-- [ Manic appreciation mode halted as, ahem, Super Ego slaps Id upside the head with a very important notif. Hancock turns from his wild excitement, faces Nick again with a huge gratified grin of excited glee. ]

This all for me?

[ Apparently Id passed back his own strongly worded memo, because Hancock is suddenly flinging his arms around Nick's shoulders and pressing a brief but jubilant kiss to his mouth. ]

This place looks-- I don't got the words. It's incredible, you're incredible.

[robotdick]

[The confused and awestruck look on Hancock's face is worth the picture Nick snaps of it. He can't seem to look at anything for more than a few seconds before something else grabs his attention. It's exactly the reaction Nick had hoped for and he relishes in it. When Hancock rounds on him, delighted and gleeful, Nick just offers up a short nod before he suddenly has arms full of ghoul.]

Glad you like it. Wanted to do something special.

[Nick wraps his arms around Hancock in turn, smoothing his good hand across the small of his back and setting those sequins in line. The ruby sparkle around them is enchanting and he's oh, so glad that Hancock suggested changing.

How he manages to tear his eyes away, Nick's not sure, but he gives a nod to the Vaultie and their resident DJ kicks on some dancing music. Lucky him, with Hancock already pressed close, he can just sweep him up into a dance right off the bat. He leads them into the center of the floor and spins him just to see the way he lights up the room.]

[chem_break]

Well, ya nailed it! Think I ought'a make you the official city party planner-- this is way too fancy for just me, and I'm so glad it is [ He must be happy if he's offering Nick bullshit jobs again. ] I was checkin the math, ya'see, comin' up due for some TLC

[ True and not, because Nick never ever leaves him wanting, but the recent kidnapping, torture, and cognitive adventures had very little to offer in the way of filling his fun bar. As per usual, the technical complaint is just a means to pass his paramour his approval like an imp.

His gaze follows Nick's and he gives their shared companion a friendly nod; looks like the guy hauled over his electric base and a microphone and it does not surprise the ghoul that his flashy buddy would not miss a chance to show off, even for just the two of them. But then, he's got even more reason to grease Nick's wheels than usual, what with that glowing green stow away of his--

And then Nick's pulling him towards the space cleared for dancing and Hancock shelves the previous thought. It don't matter, they're all good now. A couple bars into the music the Vaultie is adding along some live instrumentals, the thrum of electrified chords charging the light dappled air.

Hancock flows so enthusiastically into that spin that he almost loses his new hat; he lurches to catch it on his way back around and chuckles like hot cinnamon whiskey as he does, riding the momentum of the move until he almost crashes against Nick's chest. ]

So this is what the world looks like from up here, huh?

[ The playful jab is just a work around to draw attention to Hancock's heady enjoyment of this new equal height they share; it means he can pin his eyes to Nick's with very narrow space remaining between them; it means very little effort expended to steal a kiss, and while he doesn't, the idea sits presently behind his hedonist's smirk. ]

[robotdick]

It's nice, but the air's a little thinner.

[It's so easy to lean in with Hancock of the same height as him, Nick ends up talking, dancing with his face about as close as he can manage without actually toppling one or the other's hat off their head. He's in an odd mood, though, because his gaze doesn't drift once to Hancock's mouth or that telling smirk, instead he's just staring into the black depths of his eyes, tracing the slight edge of an iris in the dreamy half-light. Nick truly and literally only has eyes for him.

The music is upbeat and just old-fashioned enough to fit Nick's preferences to a T. He leads, pulling Hancock with him in an energetic simple dance as a warm up. Nick can already feel his fans on beneath his coat--he'll have to shuck it before long, but for now he's over the moon to just be dancing with Hancock in private.

In truth, Nick had considered inviting other people to this shindig, but he'd tossed that idea out almost immediately. This was a lavish setup for one person, but that was the idea, wasn't it? To spoil and treat Hancock without the weight of other eyes and attitudes. Nick also wanted a touch of privacy for this particular evening--just in the event that Hancock turned him down at the end of the night. It would save both their pride if they didn't have an audience.]

I mentioned lately that I love you?

[chem_break]

Oh, that why I'm feelin so light headed?

[ Almost impossible to see (unless you're an obsessive detail orientated synth that can see outside the normal spectrum of light, as a random nonspecific example) in the low dancing light, Hancock's pupils are blown wide like he's on the best chemical high-- and oxytocin is definitely top of his list. If only he could bottle this feeling-- but he doesn't really need to, he has Nick right here, the source of all his favorite soaring enjoyments. He feels utterly spoiled in the best possible way, his gleeful grin lingering stubbornly enough to set a slight ache in his face. ]

You lose somethin' over here?

[ He all but purrs as the sole subject of Nick's adoring gaze; his dancing still has more zeal than grace, but he's creative and clever with the basics he grasps. He even spins Nick once or twice through the warm up dance, an easy enough move with their heights handily leveled. The way Nick's coat flares and catches all those specks of light is art-worthy, at least to Hancock's (admittedly, mildly obsessed) mind.

That tender declaration of love has Hancock's heart skipping a beat and knocking against his ribs; apparently it strikes him through the chest quite viscerally, like a cupid's arrow, because the utterly lovestruck fool (whilst dancing, holding Nick by his good hand and shoulder) replies in song:]

'Have I told you lately that I love you? Have I told you there's no one else above you? Fill my heart with gladness, take away my sadness, ease my troubles that's what you do.'

[robotdick]

[They're truly disgusting together, in how sappy and romantic they are. Nick listens with rapt attention as Hancock serenades him, grinning the whole time. They dance, coming together and breaking apart to increasingly lively music. The only through line on any of it is Evaris playing the bass and that works out wonderfully. Hancock spins him as often as Nick does and if he were anyone else, his cheeks would be hurting by the time they finally got a slow song.

When the slow song does hit, Nick pulls Hancock in close, skeletal hand splayed across the small of his back, and other holding his hand with almost delicate care. He'd be delighted to dance the whole night away, to watch his own eyes and the glittering lights reflected in Hancock's. But even Nick knows that those shoes are hardly a long-term decision.]

We need to do Karaoke sometime. [Nick says as they come together.] I could listen to you sing all night.

[Flattery aside, Nick's expression goes a little concerned and he cocks a brow at the ghoul.]

How's the heels?

[chem_break]

[ They do deserve some happiness after the various dramas inflicted upon them as of late; they're allowed to be so romantically disgusting until the scales inevitably tip again. Every time a song changes, Hancock gets the urge to flit off and explore some other fancy aspect of the room; he wants to check out the bar for both the assorted snacks and drinks, and he's pretty sure he spotted a dartboard somewhere? And a smoke, he needs some kind of smoke, and what goes better with a smoke than a shot--?

But Nick keeps distracting him; not actively, not by keeping him put, but by existing on such a beautiful vibration that Hancock is simply drawn to him, and keeps declining the recurring interest in parting for even a moment.

When the slower music begins to play it's definitely not the moment Hancock is going to break to go grab a snack; it's all the excuse he needs to get close and stay close. He enjoys the ease with which he can drape his arms over Nick's shoulders, the way steering him doesn't come with that extra brunt of gravity. The gravity is all on his feet, but as previously established, Hancock is fantastic at compartmentalizing pain. ]

Funny you should mention that, think I know a guy with one hellova fancy karaoke bar at his place; things practically a stage [ Snowvaris had to Design, okay. Leave him/them alone. ] There's ground rules, though. I sing a song for you? You sing a song for me. Pro quid quo, deal?

[ Oh, his feet hurt. Pain is just Pain entering the body. It's an extremely decent trade for getting to peer across such a small space and meet his paramour's eyes. In fact, without waiting for an answer to his own damn question the ghoul finally smothers that small space between them and brushes his lips across Nick's in a kiss just beyond the boarders of chaste. It lingers just too long to be so.

The shoes will probably come off before the night is over, but Hancock wants as much salacious strutting as he can possibly get away with; he has limits, he's just not anywhere near them right now. Continued heel wearing approved by Ego. ]

You worry to much [ he says it like a complement somehow; steals another light brush-stroke kiss. ]

[robotdick]

[Nick can't blush but he would have with Hancock's arms draped over his shoulders, swaying to the music, kissing him as they dance. As it is, the vents at his shoulders are spun up and his sensor net is already warning him about overheating. He's kept on dancing because he wanted to, honestly Wanted to, but he knows when to bow out. There's so much more to come tonight.

Nick shifts, chases Hancock back a bit as he finally breaks away, only to get chastized before getting another brush of the lips. He huffs a laugh and, in that moment, the song slows and changes. He's got enough nagging flags that he finally, reluctantly stops them moving and gives Hancock's waist a squeeze.]

Pardon me, Doll. You got me hot under the collar--if I don't lose this coat I'm going to pass out.

[Despite having said that, making his excuses to step away, Nick pulls Hancock in again and steals his mouth for another less than chaste kiss. He makes it quick, quicker than he wants it to be at least, and then steps back and releases the ghoul all at once.

Tonight is beautiful. It's going far better than Nick could have imagined and it has him feeling drunk on love. It's enough that he can't find it in himself to object to the quid-pro-quo of singing back to Hancock. He's not a singer, not compared to his current company, but the high of good company and this surprise has him in its grasp.

The old synth meanders to the one table set up on the periphery of the room and drapes his coat over the back of one chair. The rush of cool is bracing. After that, he heads, not for Hancock, but for the stage where the Vaultie is still playing like his template life was as a lounge lizard.]

Mind if I sing one?

[Nick leans in and, in a low tone, tells the Vaultie what he wants. The song isn't uncommon, and it's entirely predictable, but sometimes classics are classic for a reason, right? The Vaultie can play the baseline and the sound system has the other backing track. The music starts up and Nick adjusts his hat as he takes the mic.]

You're just too good to be true, can't take my eyes off of you--

[chem_break]

[ That kiss cuts off his answer but Hancock is perfectly alright with the happenstance; his own kisses thus far had edged closer towards the realm of chaste by design of gradually feeding Nick's desire for more. When the press of his mouth veers a little closer towards hungry the ghoul gives a gratified purr, almost a growl, and the visceral vibration thrums between their lips. ]

Yeah, I want ya up and at'em all night long, don't go tappin out on me too quick now

[ a vehicle for flirtation more than a serious warning; Hancock's not patient but he's certainly compassionate; if Nick did need a sit down, his ghoulfriend would be the last person to fault him for it, but if Hancock is making himself into a pain that means his mood is soaring high, so it's a good sign. Finally (reluctantly) detangled, Hancock makes a quick detour to grab the closest bottle of liquid refreshment because slicing up that carpet left him with wicked pasties.

While Nick hangs his coat Hancock is snatching a bottle of Nuka Dark as well as a couple colorful plastic tubes (containing appropriately gentle chemical warfare) and tucks the later into the corners of his hat. They slot in nicely to the sticthed chocolate leather and honestly it makes Hancock feel better even if he's too distracted to immediately imbibe more than the lowkey, %35 alcoholic drink. His coat ferries his precious Stuff-- okay, mostly a variety of chems, Robot Repair Kits, and a knife or two-- but the ghoul feels more naked for lack of his comfortable supply than the amount of skin he's showing.

So there's smokables in his hat as he saunters over to the stage (Evaris this is a stage come on now) for a better look at what's happening. The snacks do look and smell amazing, but watching Nick prepare to serenade him definitely scores a higher priority than simple calorie sustenance.

Hancock even forgets about his drink as he watches, and listens. It's an emotional support beverage, keeping his hand (and only his hand) cool while Nick's voice enshrouds him like a folded set of feathered wings. It feels fucking heavenly; he'd close his eyes to listen if he could stand one second of looking away. The song, Nick's voice, this whole event feels like an act of devotion, of loving worship, and Hancock is an utter glutton for the taste.

He moves to clap when the sweet serenade ceases, totally forgetting he'd been holding a drink and almost, almost dousing himself with heavily alcoholic cola. ]

Your voice is a weapon'a mass destruction, ya know that? Dia-fucking-bolical, think I'm actually blushin'

[ Evaris probably added a d4 to the final score there, but Nick's rolling nat 20's across the bored tonight all on his own. Hancock is genuinely (delightedly, comfortably) flustered; he's also completely at ease, charmed like a snake as he gazes at his paramour like an amatory rube. ]

[robotdick]

[When Nick's finished his rendition of that love song, he hangs up the mic. Hancock nearly dumps a full Nuka Dark on himself as he moves to applaud and Nick can think of no higher compliment. He steps off the stage and down to Hancock, grinning like the lovesick dope that he is.]

I think I can see it. [He's teasing, he can't.] Gonna make you match that dress if I'm not careful.

[He moves up, closing the space with Hancock like they're dancing again, even though they clearly aren't. His eyes are set to bedroom, half lidded and in love, but Nick's expression goes a little awkward as he continues speaking. His hand even shifts to scratch at the back of his neck before hanging there. The transition to awkwardness is, remarkably, quite genuine. Nick can think of no better time to broach this subject and he's still high on the thrill of serenading the ghoul in front of him.

His grin goes a little soft and Nick has to look askance at the decorations as he asks, quite hopefully:]

Say, uh--I know you said if I got a craving, you'd kill it if I asked...same go for, you know, well-thought out, reasoned requests?

[chem_break]

[ That shift from debonair to adorably awkward has Hancock cocking a brow-ridge and suddenly steeped in curiosity. Still enjoying his extra height, the ghoul takes advantage of their close proximity by hanging an arm over Nick's shoulder, and sliding the other loosely around his waist. The presence of Evaris does absolutely nothing to dissuade the overt (though not too sizzling) show of affection; Hancock has known the guy long enough that he's like an especially attractive lamp for all the threat level he registers. ]

Aw no, I match the dress too close and it's gunna look like I'm butt-ass naked. Not my delicate sense'a propriety

[ His sarcasm is summery, friendly flirtatious as he basks in the closeness of his love. The question draws up an interested hum from the ghoul, his seamless eyes adopting the flecks of glitter shed by the disco-ball. ]

Point me at Mr. Reasoned Request, I'll stick a knife in 'em

[ The way his tongue peeks out to trace his own bottom lip suggests a politely leashed desire whilst the ghoul waits for Nick's inquiry. ]

[robotdick]

[Nick's expression goes surprised as Hancock drapes an arm over his shoulder and wraps the other around his waist. His eyes dart, gathering the shifted logistics, before his erstwhile bashfulness takes hold again. Evaris, behind him, is the only other living soul with any idea what Nick's up to and he's sure the Vaultie has the most smug, knowing look on his face. Thankfully, Hancock's only got eyes for him.

Nick's skeletal hand commits to the moment, it mirrors Hancock's around his waist, resting carefully on those sequins. His other shifts, as subtly as he can manage, to his pants pocket. He hadn't been able to conjure up a clamshell box and, given the current circumstances, he's glad for that.]

I'd prefer not, but uh...well, all the chaos recently got me thinkin'. Might as well ask for things I want, right? No reason not to.

I, uh--been wanting this for a while and I figured: why not ask? Worst that can happen is you turn me down.

[Nick's smile is dreamy as he meanders his way to the point. His expression goes considering for a flickering second, though, as he adds:]


Or I thought it was--Now I gotta be concerned about a stabbing, sounds like.

[He shrugs, accepting the potential violence of his fate. The brief rise of his shoulders lifts Hancock's arm and allows him to pull his hand out of his pocket without being obvious about it. Finally, as Nick gathers his courage, he finds the nerve to look back at Hancock's face and the starry lights reflected in his dark eyes.

Nick pulls his good hand up, into the space between them. Caught in a delicate hold between his thumb and forefinger, is a dull metal ring. It's just slightly radioactive, but that's not shocking. The shielding around his core is meant to catch all the rads, but they both know it doesn't always. There are a few spots where it overlaps more than it needs to, and this nicked piece puts out a few on its own.]

I meant to get down on one knee, but that's out. [Nick feels lighter in this moment, enough that he can chuckle, and he does.] Nobody in my skull has ever actually gotten hitched and the more I think about it, about having that experience--I can't imagine it being with anybody but you.

So...Will you marry me, John?

[chem_break]

[ His curiosities only climb Nick explains himself; the synth has always been able to identify the things he wants to a degree, but that new software adds variant weight and priority to different aspects of his reasoning. He can Want things and Know things and Feel things with different settings of intensity-- and it's certainly showing. The synth's words have Hancock's mind speeding ahead; what could he want that he thinks there's a chance Hancock would refuse? ]

Metaphorical stabbing, probably

[ He easily interjects; murdering the request had been playful euphemism for getting it done, but now Hancock is really wondering what Nick's getting around to saying. He's observant enough to catch Nick's subtle shifting but completely misses it anyway (failed that roll) and is caught entirely by surprise by the sight of that simple metal band.

Why does this feel almost-- familiar? It's like his brain is reaching for a memory that isn't actually there. Inwardly, his sense of reasoning comes alive like it (like he, like everything) is suddenly overcharged. Inwardly, the familiar aspects Nick has come to know are arguing:

'Fuckin' YES, let's do it!'

Hold on a sec, would ya? We don't know what this means--

--It means a buncha' promises we could break, it means a higher chance of disappointment and obligation--

Eh I dunno about that, we don't know what it means -to Nick- and he's the one askin'

I Want to! I wanna be with him, every damn second for every damn day! We should do it, we should say yes!

You ain't responsible with what ya want, jackass. What about when ya Want something else? What about when ya want Freedom? Then what?

I don't-- I do-- I-- (The Id resorts to a wordless snarl)

Hey guys, we really ought'a say -something-

Oh shit--/Oh shit-- ]

I love you. I love you so godamn much that I-- I want to. And I didn't think I ever would, ya know? Never saw the appeal of the move... not until we started steppin' out together

[ The close proximity and leveled height makes bumping his forehead against Nick's especially easy; the ghoul's hands shift and settle at either side of the Nick's collar, bracing there and lining his thumbs against the sides of the synth's neck. ]

It means a lot-- and it means different things to different folks. Concept's come a long way since bribin' families to accept new genetics into the line

[ An extremely moot point for all parties involved, but he's trying to make his point clear. ]

But you... you're so special to me-- precious, and yeah, I can't really think'a... I don't wanna be without ya, ever. So... think what I'm sayin' is yes, with a condition?

We just gotta hash out what exactly gettin' hitched would mean for us. Before the actual knot tying. Clear-cut, ya know? Cuz I don't wanna...

I don't wanna disappoint you

[ Almost gingerly, Hancock offers out his hand towards that slightly radiant ring Nick is holding. ]

That, uh... copasetic, love?

[robotdick]

[Nick watches as Hancock short circuits for a few seconds. He'd expected this much (assuming he didn't just shut him down flat) and so Nick is happy to wait while he runs this sudden proposal through his brain. When Hancock starts speaking again, he's being careful, hedging his words to try and keep the situation neutral, but Nick knows him well enough to know what that means, even before he confirms it: Yes, but he needs an explanation before they go through with it.

By the time Hancock's done dancing around his conditional yes, Nick's smile is threatening to split his silicon. Hancock holds out his hand and Nick's smile breaks into a grin as he carefully fits the band onto the ghoul's finger. The moment it's on, Nick is just overcome with delight. Without warning his hand on Hancock's waist pulls him close and lifts him up. Nick spins them around once-twice-three times before he sets him down again.

The moment those heels hit the floor, the synth leans in and kisses Hancock with all that excited energy, pouring affection into every move. Nick's brain has a new baseline for Joy and Hancock's watching it get written in real time.]

Don't think you can disappoint me, doll, but I hear you. We can work out the nitty gritty after our party.

[chem_break]

[ Watching Nick break into such a gleaming grin while he slides that ring onto Hancock's finger provides a burst of bliss so boisterous that it stacks high against all the reasons Hancock can conjure that this could be bad. Just this experience (enjoying it, allowing himself to want it) feels very near to the scope of all his quiet worries, almost as though it could blanket them, soften the edges.

His own smile is vibrant and vivid as he admires the new jewelry and the accompanying surge of blissful promise. The joy it's pumping through his veins could easily sour (every high comes with a come down) but-- that's part of the promise, isn't it? To ride the highs and the lows together?

A jubilant chuckle gets knocked free as Nick lifts him and they spin; his happiness is like a chemical rush, blunting and blurring out all those worries a section of his mind had been so ready to provide. His heels clack against the floor and suddenly Nick is kissing him with every ounce of affection he can pour into the move; Hancock replies with equal zeal, struck by how the kiss cuts through him like a hot knife through butter; he feels like he's melting but in the best possible way. His arms squeeze around the synth's shoulder and he leans in close, stealing a fierce embrace as Nick speaks to him. ]

Hey, I don't mind shootin' the fat about it currently, unless ya got something else on your mind

[ It's not exactly a dreadful conversation; in fact Hancock finds himself almost... looking forward to establishing the details? But he's also aware Nick put a lot of effort into this evening, and might have other items on the itinerary. ]

Ya got anything else on the agenda? Already serenaded me and proposed, not sure what exactly'll top that, Val--er, fiancée-of-mine

[robotdick]

I thought about fireworks but that seemed a little over the top.

[Nick's not joking. He had considered it, even if he hadn't gone through with it. The real lynchpin there was figuring out whether the weather would be sour or not. He'd gathered the materials, of course, but when the clouds stubbornly stayed on the horizon for a week, he'd shelved them for a clear night. (Also something, something fire safety.)

As for plans on the agenda that hadn't been nixed?]

I figured we'd dance, have a drink or two--you should probably eat some of the food, Vaultie went overboard--and then uh, get physical later. So yeah, we can hash it out now.

[Nick can't seem to get enough proximity now; he's on cloud nine and he's got Hancock wrapped up in his arms like he never plans on letting go. His next question could sound patronizing, but it doesn't, Nick only earnestly wants Hancock to give him a starting point. Hashing it out is one step closer to a full-tilt yes and Nick's hungry for it.]

What can I clarify for you, sweetheart?

[chem_break]

Oh yeah? Not gunna lie, can always go for explosives and pretty colors... though, come to think of it... [ they've pretty much got that covered already, even without the fireworks? Hancock clearly approves of the notion, and probably doesn't understand the basic concept of 'over the top' anyway. ]

I would'a gone for it, but damn if this night ain't already perfect

[ The itinerary is utterly lit. Fine conversation, dinner and a show? What more could a guy dream of? Hancock catches himself glancing down to his newest accessory and grinning; it feels like some wild fantasy, like he's jumped into another issue of Live and Love; Nick always makes him feel like he's the star subject of some exquisite tale of romance. It's almost unreal and this new facet of his reality isn't even the latest star in his sky, it's overflowing tapestries of Arora borealis. He never new the sky could look like this; has he even seen these colors before? ]

Hmm... ya know I could eat, I was tryin' to have a drink before ya practically made me forget how to use my hands -and wouldn't that be a shame?- so how about we browse the bar [ a term meant to throw a blanket-meaning over both snacks and drinks ] while we chat, sound good?

[ That would require some level of detangling though, which Hancock does not seem too eager for; he hasn't moved an inch, his eyes only leaving Nick's face for brief visits to his ring and corsage. ]

Think that means I gotta let go of ya... but you're so damn impossible to quit

[robotdick]

Can't say I like it much better, but I think we can find a middle ground in there.

[Nick considers and finally, reluctantly draws his good hand away and turns, wrapping his skeletal one more overtly around Hancock's waist. It's about as close as two people can stay while maintaining the ability to walk. Arm wrapped around Hancock, Nick ushers them toward the Vaultie's spread, all set out decoratively like a lavish buffet. He really went above and beyond, considering Nick doesn't eat--Nick's gonna owe him a few after this and, for once, he doesn't mind that arrangement at all.]

See anything you like?

[Nick can't eat, but he'll gladly tote around a plate for Hancock to stack snacks on. He's got a free hand, so he reaches and plucks one up and holds it at the ready for the ghoul at his side.

The conversation about marraige hasn't really begun, but Nick seems remarkably relaxed, like all the awkwardness has drained out of him. He hadn't been kidding when he said well-reasoned. He's been turning this gambit over in his head for a long, long while--both to see if he really wanted it, and to gague whether he thought Hancock ever would. He's gone down every avenue of thought, every consideration, and he's fully prepared to explain himself.

In short, he's not worried: he did the homework.]

[chem_break]

[ This'll do; Hancock strolls along side his his paramour (his fiancée) towards the spread of snacks and drinks ]

Yeah, and the foods nice too

[ An easy shot to take, and take it he does, smirking sultry and elated. He utters a gruff gregarious thanks for Nick toting the plate, and starts to browse the spread of snacks. There's so much food-- he almost thinks to tell Evaris he ought to hand out the extra to the townies, but this is Var, he probably already knows what he's doing with the leftovers.

Hancock takes a couple Mirelurk claw cakes, a few bite sized bits of Radscorpion en croûte, and a couple small pieces of poached angler-- the last is barely passable as a buffet food, but Hancock sees (and appreciates) exactly why it was included here. Fuckin' anglers. He's gunna eat these with extreme prejudice.

Also, the punch in a mellon bowl? Fancy. He takes a cup of that, too. ]

I'm not forgettin' about ya Sunshine, just figure if ya wanna taste you can steal off my cup. Unless ya want one to yourself

[ Nick's relaxed composure feeds Hancock's ease; conversations about possibly establishing boundaries have the potential to get awkward and tense, but he doesn't anticipate that being the case; Nick isn't the type to spin up drama. In fact he's quite reasonable and trustworthy, exactly the kind of person Hancock would wade into these unfamiliar waters with. If someone else asked for his hand in matrimony-- hell, he might have laughed. But Nick Valentine? He's special, precious, one of a kind. He makes Hancock feel things he never would have expected, things that have in the past, sent him running.

With his plate full and accompanying Refreshing punch, the ghoul steers them both towards a cute clothed table by the wall; he takes his plate from Nick and sets it down, dropping himself onto the edge of the table as opposed to the actual seat, because fuck the police (is that euphemism appropriate for the narrative?... Yes, yes it is). ]

Think I'm gunna tryn' remember what I like best here, then ya can try it too, next time we do a Memory Den Thing

[robotdick]

Good thinking.

[Nick hadn't considered that idea but it appeals as he lets his gaze drift over what Hancock's selected. Nick settles in the seat that his jacket it draped over and stares up at the towering ghoul in the dappled, sparkling light. Nick looks like he's content enough to prop his head on his arms and just stare up at him, but he maintains some dignity and settles his skeletal hand on the table.

Despite his suggestion that they hash it out now, Hancock doesn't seem to be in any rush to start. Nick can't say he blames him, it's not like the concept of marraige and his zeal for freedom mesh really well. But Nick can guess a few of what Hancock might consider hangups. If he is wary of starting, Nick is more than happy to.]

You know, I'm not trying to be a ball and chain. [Nick starts quietly, leaning in as he says it.] Don't much care if you have flings, so long as I'm the return destination.

I just want something...real. Something tangible. As a reminder that I've got you and you've got me, come Hell or high water.

[chem_break]

[ Hancock had been turning the subject over in his brain, picking out the best angle to start with, when Nick starts up the conversation himself. He's extremely content to listen, these are exactly some of the things he wanted to know. He nods along agreeably, meanwhile taking a (needlessly vicious) bite of poached angler and ruminating as he chews. ]

Best I figure it, marriage usually comes with three aspects of rearranging circumstance. Finance, Living Arrangement, and Romance. Guess we're startin' on number three. Fine by me, the first two are kinda less relevant for us than the typical couple'a newlyweds

[ Commitment makes him feel edgy; the amount of thought he's putting into this must be to counteract that. Thoughtfully, he sips the melon punch with a small 'Mmm' of appreciation at the fresh fruity taste. He nudges his cup along the table towards Nick, a silent invitation for him to try some, if he fancies. ]

It's not just me I'm thinkin' about here, ya know. Folk all tied up in romance -me included, heh- don't always consider the natural inclination we all got for variety. Ya want a collection'a... I dunno, cats, comics, industrial properties, friends, adopted family, houseplants, guys who're into that one weird kink ya got, that's all considered dandy, right?

But ya start crossin those categories, that's what makes folk start'a sweat

[ The look he gives Nick is nothing short of dreamy as the sinker of the synth's statement hits home. ]

Oh, that all? Well that much I'll sign off on right the hell now. Just seen this arrangement fail too many times to give ya my John Hancock -too late, right?- without checkin' the fine print, first. Assumptions pave the way to hell, right? [... dude. Get your metaphors and euphemisms sorted god damn. ]

And ain't just flings I'm thinkin' about, either. I don't, do not wanna be the one thing that stands in your way if ya find somethin' -or someone- that makes ya happy. Not like I'm immune to jealousy mind ya, just feel like I'd rather be a little green than see ya passin' on somethin that could make ya smile, feel me?

[robotdick]

[Nick's smile goes dreamy and then lopsided as Hancock clarifies. He takes a sip of that offered drink as he listens and rolls the glass like it's fine scotch once he's had enough. It's funny, Hancock's dedication to not standing in his way, what with him being the only person he's ever considered. Nick's not exactly popular with the ladies or fellas.]

I gotcha. Don't figure it'll come up much, but I'll keep that in mind. Promise.

[Back to the earlier point though, Nick is very amused.]

You know we already live together practically all the time, and seein how I don't eat, after paying Ellie and bills, I usually got a surplus of caps. Don't really figure either of those are going to be a problem.

[It sounds like this is all in the bag, assuming there are no futher points of contention.]

[chem_break]

Just feels kinda... selfish, wantin' to be the One and Only source'a your happiness. Not a bad possession to hold mind ya, but who knows what'll happen? We already had to load a grizzled old merc into your OS-- what if one day ViMa loads someone or another and ya decide ya want a giant polycule gig? [ He chuckles in genuine amusement, and samples some of the closet thing Var could create to mini pigs in a blanket. Damn, why do cooked bugs always taste so unfairly... good. Seriously, something that ugly should not be so delicious. ]

That's just one example, mind ya; point is I'm not worried about you traded up, cuz it's not a trade at all. You find someone else ya love? Don't mean ya gotta stop lovin' me. We just gotta hash it out, ya feel me? And just cuz ya figure it won't come up, doesn't mean it won't. This kinda deal? I don't wanna win by default. And it's only fair if we both got the same freedom. Don't mean I'm gunna go scopin' bars for tail mind ya-- never do get a chance to work up too much of an apatite with you around

[ The third facet of matrimony is probably the one that needed most clarification for the ghoul; it's a particular tightrope his beliefs walk, tied up in contradictions, pulled taught between Morals and Wants. ]

But yeah, in terms'a that other stuff? I'm not seein' a need to merge our bank accounts exactly [ That's a metaphor, no one has actual bank accounts anymore-- and in Hancock's experience, it typically ends up a huge point of contention anyway. Having to feed yourself (and your kids) can be such a drag when most food is either poisoned, expensive, or both. ]

And I'm pretty sure we can keep doin' what we're doin' with the housing thing. My old place and our place are across the damn street so... guess I can skip over convincin' ya to move into my city, huh?

[ From his hat, Hancock takes one of those colorful plastic tubes with a doobie inside. He sets the bright pink cylinder on the table and spins it, like a game of spin the bottle for two; even his inclination to fidget has taken a romantic turn. ]