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]

[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. ]

[robotdick]

Yeah you got that part out of the way a while ago.

[Nick answers with an amused huff and places the glass down alongside Hancock's plate. It's all very reasonable, and he can see where Hancock's coming from. Pondering it over on his own, however, ain't exactly the most helpful choice.]

I ever want to try out a polycule and you bet you're gonna be the first person I talk to. [He gamely resists commenting and playing up that he's undesireable. Self deprecation doesn't fit the vibe and he's not about to knock himself knowing Hancock just agreed to marry him. It's a roundabout way to self-worth, but he might as well take it.]

The way I always figured it is that wearing this is just a reminder that you got at least one person who'll help you, who's in your corner, regardless of whatever else is going on. I suppose that doesn't clash with the idea of other loves drifting in and out of my life or yours, so yeah, I'm alright with that.

Now, I don't plan on meeting anybody else, but I get your meaning. Gotta go for happiness where you find it--lucky me, I just so happen to be staring at it right now. But something else may come along that you or I want too.

[Nick is talking in circles, agreeing with nearly parallel lines of thought. He doesn't have a reference for this apart from Hancock himself, but he's really giving it his all when it comes to showing he comprehends the full weight of the suggestion. Open Marriage it is.]

You hang out with any regular smooth-skin folk, you may want to leave off that ring. I promise I won't take it personally, it's just made from a scrap of my core shielding, so it throws a few more rads than most folk can tolerate long term.

[chem_break]

[ a rich rough edged chuckle is the ghoul's first reply to Nick's statement; yeah, impulsiveness does serve him well now and again, and he would have felt... different, about asking Nick to move into Goodneighbor specifically For him, as opposed to just handing him the keys and letting him do as he pleased; that freedom without obligation worked both ways, because Hancock naturally started spending more and more time at Neon Flats as well. They were simply free to enjoy each other's company because they wanted to, not because they had to.

Nick's explicit agreement to pre-discuss the formation of a polycule gets another brighter burst of beach glass and brandy chuckles; he's not exactly gunning for the idea, but it does seem to amuse him. ]

Sounds good, and like I said, don't mean I intend on head-huntin' either. Just watched too much obligation turn into resentment over this kinda stuff, and I don't want that to happen to you n' me.

[ He's more than happy to follow the paralleled statements of Nick's understanding; now he gets the synth experience probably better than any other organic alive, he understands the way Nick's processing works and how he derives and contextualizes meaning and understanding. ]

Yeah, you got it. Know I talk big and bad but... I don't gotta be the only plant in your greenhouse; sure as hell am happy to be, but as long as we all get watered, we all grow. I don't wanna be a reason you ditch a chance for more love n' happiness, and I don't think I'd be happy with a guy who'd feel fine doin' that to me over... what, insecurity? Possessiveness is a killer kink and all, but...

[ He trails off with a vague waving gesture, leaving the background music to complete his point while he drinks more melon punch, and samples some more of the delectable food.

He snaps right back to attention at Nick's explanation of the ring-- that suddenly feels kind of... warm, on his finger? What strange magic is this? Nick just explained the mild radiation, but that shouldn't create a physical sensation, Hancock takes more rads going for a chem run in the rain. He takes another cool sip of punch and lifts his hand, curiously turning the cherished item around his finger with his thumb. ]

What, you kiddin? No way I wanna take it off, now! Not after ya explained all that. Gunna need... I dunno, some kinda radiation-proof case I can hang on my neck or somethin'. This sweet little baby is never leavin' my sights, count on that

[ And he's admiring his ring again, just as though it has a needlessly huge diamond. Actually no, this is even better than some shiny rock .]

That's so unbelievably, fucking romantic Nick! How the hell am I gunna top that? I can't make you a ring outta my insides, that... that doesn't track too good

[ His grin is wild like an unkept garden, overflowing with flowers and thorns. He wants to touch Nick but his hands are busy (punch cup, joint-tube-twirling) so instead Nick gets a spiked coal-colored heel perched upon his thigh; the motion sends those sequins dripping down the ghoul's skin in turn. The move has the equivalent mood of a playfully swatting tiger; affection shown in the inclination to superficially irritate.

It doesn't much sate the ghoul's itch for touch though, so he adds: ]

Think ya can take that off for me? My barks are doggin'

[robotdick]

[Hancock complains after declaring his ring choice romantic and Nick's first reaction is a gravelly chuckle. He thought it was a bit on the nose, honestly. Making a ring out of the lining of his artificial heart isn't exactly a subtle metaphor. He's glad that Hancock finds it as romantic as he did.]

It's not a contest--

[His protest is cut off when that heel perches on his leg, sending the draped sequin fabric riding up Hancock's thigh and pooling where it joins his hip. That is--certainly a good look. His request hits a moment after he says it, when Nick catches back up, and the synth huffs another bemused chuckle as he takes the ghoul's ankle and the back of that shoe into the careful grip of his skeletal hand. His good hand, feels along the strap until it finds the buckle and takes its sweet time doing so.]

Well, one more thing we agree on: rings made out of viscera? Hard pass.

[He can undo the strappy heel blind, and he finally does, pulling that shoe off and twisting to set it on the floor by one of his chair's legs. He assumes the second heel is incoming, and then probably a foot massage, but he is still floating on cloud nine. Hancock could ask him for just about anything right now and Nick would endeavor to give it.]

I was thinking about rings and I kinda hoped for something a little...peculiar. [His bashfulness doesn't make a full return here, but it brushes the surface again.] Ring's meant to go on the left hand and mine isn't...so good for wearin jewelry. So whatever it ends up being, think I can talk you into welding it in place?

[chem_break]

I know I know, but come on, no way I'm not gunna try and match your energy here. You're inprinin' me to think'a somethin' fancy, just lemme go with it

[ He's already having Ideas; or, one of his trains of thought is all Ideas, while others steam and stream on about Nick's hands on his skin and the relief of pinching pressure off his feet. ]

Thanks for that. Guess I could go with somethin' metaphorically close to my heart... Hmmm... I've gotta think on it for a bit

[ Something he could melt into metal, for one thing. The ghoul flexes his toes as Nick places his punishing shoe aside, and then brings the second foot into the synth's lap. This time, he rests it on the sliver of chair between Nick's legs. ]

This one's not so bad, missin' toe an' all? Not gunna walk around in one shoe like some kinda lunatic though

[ The request only broadens Hancock's gratified grin; clearly, he approves of this idea. He looks like he's about to enthusiastically agree, but then stops himself with hesitation so utterly theatrical that it cannot be genuine. ]

Wait a sec, who the hell got you into body mods? That's some heavy shit, Nick

[ A resurgence of brambly chuckles, whilst his naked foot slides leisurely up and down Nick's thigh. ]

Yeah you got it Sunshine, happy to do it. Maybe I'm a little closer to lunatic than I wanna admit, but that just seems pretty damn romantic to me. Now I just gotta figure out somethin' real sentimental to light on fire

[robotdick]

[Nick would roll his eyes at Hancock's scandalized response to his request, but he's chuffed about the ghoul agreeing. He'd have figured something else out, but he really wanted something permanent. Something that a wipe or an error wouldn't be able to touch. And...speaking of touch--Hancock wasn't in the market for a foot rub, at least not the kind Nick was expecting. That second foot, set precisely against the sliver of chair at the apex of his legs, is an invitation is he's ever seen one.

Nick had been so sorely tempted to drop to his knees and push up that sequinned dress--it's so nice of Hancock to give him another opportunity. Still, he plans on taking him time, so when his skeletal hand takes ahold of this ankle, he decides to let his other hand slide up and feel along the inside of that leg. Nick's fingers wander up to Hancock's knee, along his inner thigh, graze against the ruby fabric of that dress, but they stop there.

Nick is a gentleman (and a tease) and once he reaches the edge of that fabric, he gradually pulls his hand back. He has a shoe to undo after all.]

Been thinkin about some other body mods, too. VR seems easier, though, so they're damn hard to justify.

[chem_break]

[ It's amusing Nick reads the daring placement of Hancock's foot as an explicit invitation, because the ghoul hasn't forgotten Nick's propriety and the present live entertainment; he only intended to push the envelope so far, maybe listen for those fans to spin up and, also maybe, slide into his lap for a salacious cuddle.

Nick surprises him with that daring hand creeping up the inside of his leg, but it's definitely well received. His polite awareness of the third party (presently strumming on his base and crooning for what must be mostly self gratification) flips like a coin and Hancock feels-- warm. He's mentioned the exhibitionism, right? As Nick's hand ascends, the ghoul's obsidian eyes go straight to lamp-light yellow, flit briefly to the stage behind them, and back to Nick again.

A ripple of heat thrums through him; his grin gets crooked and clumsy. ]

Oh yeah? Such as? Now ya got me curious... VR's a great place to test drive if you're not sure about makin a permanent commitment

[ He cannot say that with a straight face. He doesn't, the irony is too delicious he absolutely must grin upon the taste. That present shoe gets lifted as Hancock ups the ante, pressing the ball of his foot and the point of his heel against the center of Nick's chest. The pressure is light, but enough to press him into his chair just slightly. The red sequins of Hancock's clothing are dark in the low dimness and glow under the streamers of bright light, like red wine under sunshine; it pools around his thighs as his leg lifts, revealing inches more of the ghouls bare skin. ]

This one too. Please.

[ A little more pressure against Nick's chest and a charmed serpentine smile for emphasis. That 'please' is more purr and playful command than genuine request. ]

Promise we'll tweak the VR so I can tower over ya next go around, deal?

[robotdick]

[Nick goes back with the pressure of that shoe like he was made for it, sitting straight then back against his chair. That sight, Hancock propped like that, the pressure of his shoe against his chest, the long line of his legs and the dramatic shadows occluding the spaces where the dreamy prom lighting doesn't touch. If Nick weren't already in love, he'd be in love.

The sidelong glance at the Vaultie, still serenading a crowd of two, doesn't escape him. The last time Nick had welcomed this sort of thing had been when Kellogg busted out. That whole debacle could have soured just about anybody on the idea of a voyeur or a third in their experience, but it hadn't soured Nick. Now, after finding out the Vaultie and him had more in common than he thought, Nick was less concerned about his presence.

He doesn't even glance back as his hands move to cradle Hancock's leg. His good one goes to the strap but, as before, Nick takes his sweet time undoing it. The whole time, his love-struck gaze is stuck on Hancock. (It's not that he doesn't have bedroom eyes, it's that his bedroom eyes also happen to be goo-goo eyes generally.)]

Fine by me.

[Nick doesn't object in the slightest. He enjoys towering over his tiny fiancee, but he also enjoyed being towered over by Id. That answer comes fast--the answer to his earlier question however, that one kicks Nick into full tilt embarassment. It's one thing to proclaim his love, to serenade him, to even get physical with a witness, but he still stumbles over the propriety of any given subject. He doesn't have a barometer for this one so he errs on the side of silting and cautious.]

It was--ah--an idea that got put in my head. In part of my head at least. Seemed like a dangerous play at the time, it was kind of a tense moment, but the idea of it was alright.

That is to say--er--hm.

The--uh--baseball metaphors aren't really my forte, so I might be using them wrong. It was about the disparity between how much pitching I get to do and how much catching I do not. I was thinkin it's really not all that different from my...well...usual...preference of ingress.

Goddamnit all. [Nick can't blush but his fans are kicked up and he ducks his head forward in defeat, pressing his forehead against Hancock's shin as he tries to recover some of his misplaced dignity. He sounds amused but helplessly defeated by what he's trying to express when he continues. Help him out here, love, he's floundering.]

Figured I could try out a way to--that is--uh--get fucked. Properly. Not just my face.

[chem_break]

[ Hancock finds himself quite enjoying the way Nick leans back under the press of that heel; it looks damn good. Photograph worthy, and the ghoul feels the itch to find that polaroid camera a little later to take a couple shots. His dagger-thin heel on Nick's chest, his throat, his cheek... leathered fingers spin that plastic tube around and around, venting the energy shock provided by his colorful imaginings.

It's as though Nick highjacks manual breathing control from his ghoulfriend by the motion of his drifting hand; Hancock breaths in for every ascended inch, holds when the hand stills, breaths out when it drifts away. God damn it. He finally stops spinning that tube and pops it open. Drugs now, thank you. He doesn't have his lighter, sans his Coat of Many Things, so he'll wait for Nick to finish talking before he asks for his matches.

But Nick is taking his time (adorably) fumbling his point, so Hancock leans in with the drunken-grace of a charmed snake and reaches into the breast pocket inside Nick's coat. He lingers in that increased proximity more than he needs to, letting his hand rest inside the synth's coat as Nick starts to talk about baseball metaphors. Hancock still gets to enjoy towering above Nick so long as he's perched on the table, which works wonderfully for him.

He resists the impulse to rib Nick in such a vulnerable moment, biting back the urge to wonder aloud how those Yankees might feel about Nick fumbling their metaphors. Instead he keeps busy completing the theft of those matches, sitting back, and popping whatever smokeable monstrosity the Vaultie considers a part favor out of its tube.

The struck match lights the moment Hancock catches the meaning behind all Nick's delightful subterfuge; the reflection of the flame is not the only light in his black mirror eyes. Well now. That is a thought, isn't it? Only through sheer practice can Hancock not drop his smoke (tastes like tabaco, cannabis with a touch of bubble hash) when the wild grin splits his mouth. He looks utterly at home dressed in coils of smoke, a blighted dragon so very pleased by this clumsy offering.

He really was just about to jump in with a life line, but wouldn't ya know it, Nick finally manages to spit out his bottom-line. ...Heh. ]

Well now, that sounds like a hell of'a way to pass a weekend. Guess I can see the hesitance with so many... colorful options on the table.

But I gotta tell ya up front. Ya never, ever leave me wanting. You wanna try a new dance I'm here for it, but I ain't exactly board'a what we got goin' already.

[ Comfortable habit leads him to take a punishing inhale. His words ride on steeds of smoke as he continues ] Thought'a your mouth? Gets my blood so hot already... on the other hand, love to hear all the sounds you'd make stuffed full'a me without anythin' blockin that pretty sinin' voice'a yours

[robotdick]

[Hancock doesn't give him hell about it, and for that Nick's grateful. It's a passing fancy and seems to have caught the ghoul's imagination as well. Nick hadn't considered that he'd be making noise but his imagination was running a little to the left of Hancock's. It's part and parcel of being present with two different Ids, he supposes. (Or, at least, that's what he's going to blame that crazy fantasy on.)]

Oh yeah? [Nick asks as he finds the nerve to pick his head up off Hancock's shin. He huffs another silent laugh and his fingers get back to work, undoing that delicate strap.]

I--uh--Hadn't really thought about that.

[Hancock is all legs and dripping red sequins, flashing in the dreamy light. The smoke curls around him in thin tendrils, a haze like fog on water, and catch the rays the disco ball throws off. Nick can't help but be entranced by the sight. The strap on that other shoe goes slack and lets his good hand wander again, sliding casually back and forth across Hancock's shin. He's not going to take the thing off his chest, but he's still holding the shoe whenever Hancock decides he's had enough.]

You wanna make me sing?