A/N: Wow uh I am so sorry to everyone who previously tried to read this. It has been fixed now I promise. Huge shoutout to GraysonGirl13 for bringing the issue to my attention. It is over at AO3 just in case anyone else finds something wrong with the formatting- you don't have to go without I promise. Anyway. With that drama out of the way, let's get on with it.

A little bird told me the MacCready/M!SS tag is overwhelmingly depressing, and that they deserve happiness. Well, I aim to please. I have no idea how long this is gonna be. The more interest it gets, the longer I'll make it, I guess.

The first thing MacCready thought when the man walked into his bar was man, what a freaking weirdo. During his argument with the two Gunner shithe- ah, idiots, he caught sight of a man in seriously mismatched armour, red hair in a stupid little ponytail and all sorts of weird crap hanging off his belt standing in the doorway, listening in unashamedly. He raised an eyebrow at him, but didn't comment.

"Are we done?" He turned his attention back to his 'old friends'.

"Yeah... We're done." Winlock gave him one last dirty look, and left, glaring at the newcomer as he did so. Barnes trailed after him, every bit the crony. Sighing, MacCready stood, appraising the redheaded man, who had watched the Gunners leave with mild fascination.

"Look, pal, if you're preaching about Atom, or looking for a friend, you've got the wrong guy. If you need a hired gun... Maybe we can talk." Maybe, he thought, if you're not as much of a nutjob as you look.

The man grinned. His teeth were unusually straight and clean. Like he actually brushed them on a somewhat regular basis.

"I'm interested. If you think you've got what it takes." MacCready wasn't sure he liked the man's self assured tone, and the slight against his skill wasn't going unnoticed. But caps were caps, and he could put up with a smartass as long as he got his asking price.

"You're joking, right? I've been doing this since I was a kid. I know my way around." He noted the way the man's eyes flicked up and down his person, and the slight smile that quirked the corner of his mouth, and stood up straighter. Almost immediately, he felt like an idiot. Yeah, he knew he was short and skinny. Didn't mean he couldn't hold his own in a fight. "I used to run with the Gunners, for God's sake." He saw a hint of surprise in the man's eyes, and gritted his teeth.

"Huh. Sounds like you can handle yourself. But what about those other guys? I worry that they might throw a wrench in the works."

MacCready laughed.

"If you're worried about Winlock and Barnes, don't be. They couldn't hit a squirrel with a rocket launcher." He narrowed his eyes. "But what about you? How do I know I won't end up with a bullet in my back?" The strange ones were always a force to be reckoned with.

The man grinned again, and pulled a- was that deathclaw hide?- makeshift wallet from his belt. "All I can give you is my word," he paused, pulling out a handful of shrapnel, "and a bunch of caps."

That had his attention. "Bunch of caps, huh? Okay, hotshot. Price is 250 caps, up front. And there's no room for bargaining."

"You've got yourself a deal." The stranger counted out two large bundles of caps and five much smaller ones. Clearly he kept them in groups for easy bartering. MacCready had to admire his preparedness, just a touch. Feeling much better about the man once his pockets were weighed down a little more, he reciprocated the man's smile, showing far less teeth. "Alright... Boss. You got yourself an extra gun. Lead on."

"Name's Nate, by the way. Not that I'll begrudge you calling me that." Another of his almost sharklike smiles.

"You can call me MacCready."

Yep, MacCready thought later. He's a strange one alright. His new boss had taken him to some creepy-ass building which had used to be some old factory. The place was swarming with super mutants, and the rank smell of half rotted meat made him feel slightly sick. He usually tried to stay away from these guys, though he did occasionally take one or two out from a distance. But Nate... Nate wanted to go straight in there. As they got closer, Nate drew out an old sword. It was long and sharp, and its hilt suggested Chinese origin. MacCready wondered where he had found it. More pressing a question, though, was,

"Do you really want to fight a ton of super mutants in close combat? You know they're stupidly strong, right?"

"They're also stupidly stupid. And I've done it a million times before." He smirked at MacCready's incredulous expression. "Cover me." And with that he stepped out from behind the wall and charged the nearest hulking green monstrosity. MacCready almost yelled in surprise at the sudden move, and fumbled to get his gun out. He stayed in the doorway, aiming at the mutants on the factory floor with Nate. He had to admit, the insane bastard was doing a great job of keeping the enemy distracted so they didn't notice they were being picked off one by one. And... He was going sword to super sledge with one of them and seemed to actually be winning, dodging and blocking before jabbing at the thing's exposed skin through its armour and laughing- actually laughing- as it bled. MacCready blinked, then snapped out of it, realising he had been neglecting his targets as he'd watched his new employer's antics.

They fought their way through the building with relative ease, though at some point Nate had taken a spiked board to the side and was nursing a gash which was bleeding steadily. MacCready had suggested he take a stimpack, but Nate had cheerfully refused, stating that they were precious supplies and he only used them when absolutely necessary, since it was something that would heal on its own just fine. Still, he did wash out the cut with vodka and bandage it up to the best of his ability. He'd had MacCready do most of the vodka part, since in his words it 'stung like a swarm of wasps that had been set on fire'. Still, despite a lot of loud swearing he had endured it pretty well, and hopefully the risk of infection was reduced as a result.

Finally, they reached the very top of the building, where an office, clearly for whoever used to be in charge around here, yielded what the redhead had been looking for.

"Bingo." He looked overly proud of himself as he held up a little model of Vault Tec's favourite mascot.

Oh yeah, MacCready thought. That's another thing. The man seems to value prewar junk above his own life. So far he seemed to have picked up everything that wasn't nailed down, picking locks, looting bodies and even reaching into toilets for god's sake, for seemingly useless crap like boxes of old cleaner, coffee mugs and tin cans. When MacCready had asked him exactly what he planned on doing with all the junk he picked up, all he got in response was a wink and a "You'll see."

Leaving the old, now abandoned factory behind them, Nate proceeded to lead MacCready through the Wasteland, occasionally pausing to shoot a bloatfly. They didn't talk much. Nate did try to start up a conversation a few times but MacCready only replied with single syllable responses, choosing instead to contemplate just what he's gotten himself into. Curiously, and a little annoyingly, this didn't seem to put off the man. He remained cheerful throughout the whole trip, singing along to the radio, which played quietly from some weird contraption he had around his wrist. It looked very similar to the things the vaulties from 81 wore, and MacCready couldn't help but wonder if he'd stolen it, or maybe even killed one of them for it. Unless he was a runaway from 81. But no one left that place, except to trade. And all the other vaults around the Commonwealth were dead. Had been for decades, if not centuries.

He was pulled from his reverie as they headed towards a settlement surrounded by a thick concrete wall. Turrets littered the perimeter, but none of them were aimed at the two travellers. The large sign over the door proclaimed 'WELCOME TO COVENANT'. MacCready knew this place. He'd tried to visit a while back, but they'd wanted him to take some kind of test, and honestly he'd felt victimised under the gaze of its citizens, so he'd quickly left and never came back.

"What are we doing here? This place creeps me out."

Nate smiled. "Yeah, I felt the same when I first got here. Turns out the folks were a lot worse than just creepy. Place is ours now."

"Wait, what? Ours?"

"Me and whichever friends I manage to make out here." At MacCready's glare, he laughed. "Don't worry. I know you're not in it for friendship. But hey, why not get in on some of the benefits of living here anyway? I've set the place up nicely." He pushed open the doors, holding one open for his companion. The first thing MacCready noticed was that the place was a lot more relaxed than before. All the meticulously painted picket fences were gone, as well as the people wearing their fake smiles and overly upbeat manner. There were people here, though. It seemed to be a weird mix. MacCready thought he recognised a woman in a red coat; he'd seen her around Goodneighbour before. She was chatting animatedly to another woman, who looked suspiciously like a raider, red hair scruffy, dressed in what looked like leather and covered in bruises and cuts.

"Afternoon, General." A man looked up from his work tending to a small garden in the corner, tipping his hat at Nate as he arrived.

"Afternoon, Preston. Nothing interesting happened while I was away?"

"No more than the usual. There's always work to be done. I take it the super mutant problem's been dealt with?"

"You know it." Nate grinned. "Oh, and say hi to MacCready. I hired him to be my new bodyguard." MacCready scowled at Nate a little as the man, Preston, turned his attention to him.

"Bodyguard, huh? Didn't think you'd need one of those." He smiled genially. "Hi, I'm Preston Garvey, Commonwealth Minutemen. Always happy to help, should you need it."

"Wait, Minutemen? I thought you guys were all gone?"

Preston grimaced. "Yeah, we went through a rough patch. But thanks to Nate here, we're on our way back. He's been working hard to pull the Commonwealth back together. Honestly, I think he might be the best general we've ever had, and since Becker, that's saying something."

MacCready turned to Nate in surprise. "You're the general of the Minutemen?"

Nate performed a mock bow. "At your service. Got the uniform and everything."

"...Is there anything else I should know about you?"

Nate laughed, and Preston smirked a little.

"Wait, don't tell me you didn't tell this poor man your tragic backstory and insane mission before hiring him."

"Eh, it didn't come up. Well, I got a story for the campfire tonight, that's for sure."

MacCready wasn't sure what to make of all this. This was certainly unlike any other job he'd been hired to do, and as a consequence he wasn't entirely sure how to react.

Right beside the garden was a workstation, upon which various tools and scrap rested. Nate began unloading his haul, sorting all the items into groups. When all his junk was safely stored, he headed up to the house at the far end of the settlement. Unlocking the door, he went inside. MacCready followed, noting that the house was sturdy, secure and relatively clean, a miracle in the Commonwealth. It even had a doormat, which MacCready stopped on, before wiping his shoes, feeling very much out of place. There was a clean double bed, with a duvet and pillows, a bureau which had a few models of robots and other knick-knacks on its shelves, a blue Vault-Tec display stand with a number of bobble heads looking very similar to the one Nate had found in the factory on it, and several other items of furniture. In the corner of the room, next to a writing desk was a floor safe, which Nate unlocked and began filling with all the weapons he'd picked up. He seemed to have a place for everything as he unloaded everything he was carrying; folders, keys and the like went in the desk drawers, armour and clothes went in the bureau's drawers and off to the side, in what looked like a sort of conservatory, was an ice cooler which contained food, drink and chems. MacCready didn't think he'd ever seen so many supplies in one place. Nate saw his expression, and tossed him a beer. It was ice cold.

"When you go out scavenging on a daily basis, you find a lot of stuff. I got anything you could possibly want in here. Could cook up a full three-course meal if I wanted to."

A thought occurred to MacCready as he cracked open his beer with his teeth. "Those chems. Do you use them?" MacCready didn't really want to be travelling with an addict.

"Nah, not really. Mostly I sell 'em. They're worth a fair amount and otherwise they'd just sit here gathering dust." He grimaced. "I think some people here would prefer it if I just threw them in the fire, but a lot of the stuff I want to get my hands on is expensive, and it'd take an awful lot of saving up to afford them otherwise. I'm eyeing up a chestplate Kleo's offering, but she wants nearly seventeen thousand caps for it. Seventeen thousand! Still, that thing looks like it could give a deathclaw pause, so I want it."

"Huh. I didn't realise the chem trade was so profitable. Maybe I should look into it."

"I should teach you how to use a chemistry station first. The rarer the stuff you can make, the higher the price you'll get for it." He paused. "Speaking of which, give me your rifle."

"What?" MacCready's hand tightened around the strap which held the rifle slung over his shoulder.

"I can fix it up for you. Make it even better. I did tell you I was gonna show you what all the junk is for."

The merc frowned. He wasn't sure about this. His rifle was precious to him. Nate rolled his eyes, then pulled out a gun of his own. "Used to be a regular old hunting rifle. Now it's one of my best tools. For when a sword isn't good enough, of course."

MacCready turned the gun over in his hands. It had an elongated barrel, a large magazine and a padded stock, so he could tell the recoil would be practically nonexistent. And above all that, it had a scope that looked incredibly high-tech. Nate looked smug.

"You made this?" MacCready was impressed. Sure, he could tell it was handmade from the mismatched nature of the pieces and here and there a dried bead of wonderglue tarnished an otherwise smooth joint between components but otherwise the craftsmanship was amazing.

"Yup. Using all that useless junk."

"Wow." He bit his lip, before unslinging his rifle and handing it over. "Alright. Go nuts. But if you ruin it, you're buying me a new one."

"Have faith." Nate took the gun, handling it with care. He held it up, running his fingers lightly over the barrel. "It's a very nice gun..."

"I know. Been by my side for years."

"I can tell." His thumb brushed over a scratch on the stock, one of many collected over the years. After the brutality bordering sadism that MacCready had seen him display at the factory it almost shocked him to see such tenderness. "I promise I'll have it back to you by the end of the day."

With that, he left the house, leaving MacCready to his beer. The merc decided to explore a little, maybe speak to some of the inhabitants of the little village.

There were four buildings in the settlement. The house at the top, which Nate used as his room and for storing all his loot, was normally kept locked, but he left a key in a drawer in the main bunkhouse so that if any of the other inhabitants wanted something from his stores, they could take it. MacCready was surprised by this level of trust; there was nothing to stop one of them taking everything they could carry and bolting, but apparently they liked him enough to stay loyal. Either that or they just enjoyed the benefits of living with him. The redheaded raider-looking girl, Cait, had been all too eager to explain to him which it was when she caught him on the veranda.

"Well hello, handsome." She stated in a thick Irish accent. "You're a new face, aren't ya?"

"Uh, hi." MacCready smiled a little awkwardly.

"So where'd ol' Vaultie over there pick you up then?"

"Vaultie? He's from 81?"

Cait laughed. "Nah, I'll let him tell ya that story. It's a good one, I promise." She winked at him. He felt his cheeks burn a little.

"Alright... I met him at the Third Rail. He offered me caps to come with him."

"Caps, huh? So you're a merc. Not one o' them Gunners now are ya?"

MacCready laughed nervously. "Funny story actually. I might have deserted them, and now they have a bit of a grudge against me."

"Aw, don't you worry about it. Nate's not the sort o' guy to judge on background. Trust me, I should know."

"What's your background then?"

"I'm an ex Combat Zone fighter. Nate picked me up after Tommy cut me loose."

"Oh, wow. Must've been fun."

"It was a shithole. But it put a roof over my head and caps in my pocket, so it could've been worse. O' course, now I'm a hell of a lot better off. I owe Nate me life."

Cait didn't seem to be the only one. There were four people living here, not including Nate, plus two Mr Handys, one of whom seemed to be malfunctioning, because he only ever talked about lemonade. The other was apparently Nate's own robot butler. MacCready wondered where he'd picked him up, and if he could get one. The only other inhabitant was a large German Shephard by the name of Dogmeat, who had given MacCready pause at first but who turned out to be completely harmless and a big softy, despite all the barking. The biggest surprise of the bunch was when he walked through the doorway into the bunkhouse and ran into a guy in a worn trenchcoat and fedora. He'd started to apologise only to jump back in alarm when he looked up and met the glowing yellow eyes of a synth. His hand jumped to where his gun usually was, but the synth held up a skeletal metal hand.

"Woah, woah, slow down. You must be new around here. I promise I'm no crony of the Institute. Name's Nick Valentine."

MacCready stopped. "Nick Valentine? The Nick Valentine?"

Nick chuckled. He had a very pleasant voice to listen to. "The one and only."

"...And I suppose Nate's the one who got you out of that drama they reported on the radio?"

"Yup, you would be right on that count."

"You're kidding." MacCready had meant that as a joke. "What is this guy, some kind of hero?"

Nick laughed again. "I don't know what he is, but whatever it is, the Commonwealth could do with more like him."

"Huh..." Nate was becoming more and more interesting the more MacCready found out about him. At first, he'd seemed like just another crazy drifter. Then he'd appeared to be a kleptomaniac with a healthy dose of bloodlust about him. And now he was apparently some kind of do-gooder hero type. It just didn't seem to fit together nicely.

The rest of the little town was made up of a house with two bunk beds and a few amenities in, clearly just for sleeping, another building with a further three beds and a little office type area off to the side, which was somewhat messy. Apparently that was where Nick worked through his cases when he stayed here instead of going back to Diamond City. The last building seemed to be a bar or social area of some sort. There were bottles of various liquours and stacks of shot glasses, as well as a radio and a few armchairs off to one side as well as barstools by the bar itself. No one seemed to run the bar, people just came in and helped themselves when they wanted to. There were also a few pristinely preserved packets of cigarettes, one of which MacCready took, still feeling like he was stealing despite the free-for-all nature of the place. But perhaps the most impressive part of the town was Nate's little workshop area around the back of his house. There were work stations for armour, weapons, chems and healing supplies and even a power armour station upon which rested a very impressive looking set of power armour. Beside it stood three- three- spare power armour frames, as well as a big metal box of various parts. That was where Nate was currently, and he seemed to be carefully wiring a circuit board into what looked like a half-made scope like the one on his own rifle. He gave MacCready a grin and a half wave as he saw him approach.

"Getting there." He stated. "This is the most complicated part."

"I'll leave you to it then." MacCready responded, and decided to head to the bar. He lit up a cigarette and poured himself a whiskey, switching on the radio. Honestly, he was beginning to understand why Nate seemed to have so many friends. This place was beyond luxury to someone like him, who spent most of his life in the backs of dusty bars and sleeping on bloodstained mattresses in half-destroyed buildings. Here, there was fresh food, fresh water, free drink, good company and more weaponry than you could shake a stick at. He found himself wondering if Nate would let him stay once his contract was up. From the way he seemed to treat everyone else, he just might.

The red-coated reporter, Piper, found him in the bar and sat down with a drink of her own.

"Settling in, huh?"

"Well, this place is nice. I gotta hand it to him, he really knows how to set a guy up."

"Yeah, Blue's got a heart of gold, beneath all the crazy."

MacCready tapped his ash into an impressively clean ash tray on the bar. "Why d'you call him Blue?"

"Oh, I guess it's not as obvious now as it was when I met him. It was that bright blue vault suit he wore. He's traded it out for some good old road leathers now. Bad memories, I reckon, though he still keeps it tucked away somewhere."

"Which vault is he from? Cait told me he's not from 81, but wouldn't say any more than that."

"111." She replied.

MacCready frowned. "Don't think I've heard of that one."

"It's up in the north west. Was sealed up pretty tight, until Blue got out."

"...There're still people in that one then?"

Piper's face fell. "Nope. Blue's the only one. That's his story to tell though. I did write an article about it in the paper, but if you're gonna be his friend you probably want to hear it firsthand."

MacCready looked down at the glass in his hand. He had said that he wasn't in the market for friends, but as time went on he wondered if that statement would stand.

True to his word, as the sun was setting Nate found MacCready and handed him back his gun. MacCready's head was feeling pleasantly fuzzy after a few glasses of whiskey, and as he took back the gun he whistled. It had many of the same enhancements as Nate's own rifle, but the grip and stock were a slightly different shape, clearly made to be lightweight and steady rather than for comfort. He checked the safety and held it up, looking down the scope. The magnification was miles better than his old scope.

"And it tracks enemies too." Nate announced proudly.

"How?" MacCready looked back at the man, lowering the rifle.

"Used a circuit board from a turret. Wired it up to a heat vision sensor."

"Huh." He wasn't sure what to say. "Uh... Thanks. A lot. This is really cool. Do I owe you anything?"

"Nah." Nate gave him a wry smile. "Since you're gonna be watching my back I figure it's sort of an insurance policy. Speaking of which..." He reached into his pocket and pulled out a pistol. It had been modded too, but not to the same extent as the rifle. "Here. Take this. I know short range isn't your thing but it's for just in case an enemy slips past your guard. Don't worry, I have way too many of these."

"Alright. Thanks." MacCready took it, and slipped it into the pocket of his duster.

"Right. I think it's time we ate something, don't you?"

"Yeah, probably." Come to think of it, he was kinda hungry.

"Hey Piper, you gonna join us?"

"Sure thing Blue. Make enough for everyone, won't you?"

"Of course."

Nate ended up making noodles for everyone. Along with some freshly chopped tatos and carrot and a fair helping of grilled radstag, it made for the best meal MacCready had had since... Well, ever, really. They all sat around a campfire, a slowly bubbling pot containing the leftovers hung over it. Slowly, the sun set and it got dark, the crackling fire the only source of heat and warmth. MacCready put his empty bowl aside and pulled his duster tighter about him, feeling full for the first time in far too long. His head had cleared up a bit since the meal, and he was thinking through everything he'd learned today. Everyone seemed to be chatting amiably; Piper seemed to be discussing a case with Nick, which Nate occasionally chipped in with, and Cait and Preston were sat close together, looking about the unlikeliest pair of friends in the Commonwealth.

"So. Nate." MacCready finally spoke up as he caught the redhead between conversations. "You're a vaultie, are you?"

"Did the pipboy give me away?"

"Nah. Cait told me. Then Piper said you're from 111, which is one I've never heard of. What was it like?"

"What, the vault?" He seemed to smirk a little at a thought he had. "Cold."

That... Was not the answer MacCready had expected.

"In all honesty I didn't really get to experience 'living' in it, per se..."

"But... You were born in there, right?"

"Nope."

MacCready was confused. "But..."

"I was born in Sanctuary. Lived there most of my life." That made no sense. "In the year 2052."

MacCready's racing thoughts ground to a halt. "Wait... What?" Did he hear that right?

"Yup." Nate seemed to be enjoying blowing MacCready's mind like that. "I'm a 21st century kid."

The merc did some quick maths in his head. "You're two hundred and thirty five years old?!" The others seemed to have noticed their conversation now and were listening in. "What are you, some special kind of ghoul or something? Created by some freaky Vault-Tec experiment?"

"No and yes. I am not a ghoul, but the reason I am still alive today is because of Vault-Tec. See, 111 had basically nothing in it except staff quarters, because all us regular citizens were herded into cryostasis pods the second the bombs fell. Basically I've spent the last two hundred and ten years as a human popsicle. Physically I'm only 25."

"Holy shit... I mean-" MacCready blushed as he realised he'd let a swear slip out. "Why didn't the rest of you come out? Are they all still frozen?"

Nate grimaced. "Yeah, but they're not gonna wake up any time soon. I was the only survivor. Except for..." He broke off, taking a breath. "Except for my son, Shaun."

"You... You have a son?" MacCready's breath caught. "Where is he?"

"That's the fun part. After a little bit of digging we uncovered sufficient evidence to believe Shaun is with the Institute."

For the second time that night, MacCready's thoughts stopped. "The Institute." He stated dumbly. "As in, the boogeyman of the Commonwealth Institute."

"Yup. That's the one."

"And you... You're planning to go after him?"

"One way or another, yes."

MacCready swallowed nervously. "You're gonna have to pay me a lot more than 250 caps to follow you into there, boss."

"Something tells me that's something I'm going to have to do alone." Nate stated with a strange solemnity.

"Well, Blue, you got us." Piper smiled at him from across the fire. "If we can help, we will."

"Yeah." Preston added. "Don't forget, you've got the whole of the Commonwealth's Minutemen at your back, General."

Nate returned the smile, and somehow this one was much more genuine than the smirks and grins he gave everyone most of the time. "Thanks."

After everyone had finished eating and the pot was scraped clean, they broke out the beers. After a few rounds, everyone was good tempered and content. Cait had her head rested on Preston's shoulder in a way that made MacCready wonder if there was something more than friendship between them. All of a sudden, he felt a pang of sadness. He wanted someone to lean on his shoulder like that. He wanted tenderness, love. He wanted Lucy.

He sighed solemnly, and Nate glanced over.

"You alright?"

"Mhm." He murmured. Somewhere in his mind, a voice told him he probably didn't want to talk about it with someone he'd just met. His boss, no less. But he was drunk and emotional, and those two traits often result in conversations regretted the following morning. "I miss my wife."

"You were married?" MacCready nodded. "What happened?"

"Pack of ferals. I couldn't save her."

Nate was quiet for a moment. "I understand."

MacCready made a derisive noise in the back of his throat.

"No, really. I had a wife too. Nora. She came into the Vault with me. The Institute fuckheads who took Shaun killed her while I watched. Stuck in my little prison. Completely helpless." His hand went to the pocket of his leather jacket absentmindedly. "Yeah. I miss her too."

MacCready watched him closely as he pulled out a pair of golden rings. He never stopped to consider that if he had a son, he must have had a wife too. He was suddenly struck by how similar their lives were. A lost wife, a son in danger. Nate shook his head, replacing the gold bands in his pocket and smiling again. "But that was then. This is now. No point in lamenting about the past, am I right?" And he met MacCready's eyes, holding up his bottle. The younger man noticed that, despite being relatively young, physically at least, Nate already had lines by his eyes. They made him look happier, somehow. MacCready imagined that his life before the Vault must have been a good one. He held up his own drink, and they clinked softly.

It got late, and people were moving into the sleepy stage of drunkenness, so they decided to retire for the night. Nate picked up all the empty bottles and added them to the junk at the workstation. Nick put the fire out as Piper headed to the bunkhouse, singing under her breath. At some point, Preston had fallen asleep on the ground, his hat over his eyes, snoring softly. Cait tried to wake him and failed, so she rolled her eyes, taking his hat and placing it on her own head, and then scooping him up in her arms and carrying him to bed. MacCready watched in mild amusement, noting that he should never get in a fistfight with the Irishwoman if she could pick up and carry a fully grown man like it was nothing. He soon realised, though, that he didn't know where he should sleep. He asked Nate as much.

"Oh, wherever you want. In the bunkhouse, with the others. If you want more privacy, no one's taken up in Nick's office yet, though I can't promise Nick won't wake you up first thing trying to get at his case files. He doesn't really sleep, see, so he likes to work early in the morning, before everyone else wakes up. Or..." He winked at him. "You can always share my bed." MacCready blushed furiously, eyes wide. Nate laughed. "Don't worry. Our relationship is strictly business. My advice is take the last bunk bed. If you can abide the snoring, that is."

MacCready nodded. "Alright. Night, boss."

"Night Mac." The merc was a little surprised at the nickname, but he let it slide. Nate sauntered past him into his house, and shut the door. When MacCready entered the bunkhouse, all the lights were off except for a torch which Piper held. She was sat up on the bottom bunk of one of the beds, scribbling in her notebook. Both Preston and Cait were completely out. Preston was still fully dressed, save for his hat, which was hung off the bedpost. Cait, on the other hand... MacCready averted his eyes as he saw that Cait was sprawled out on her bed in nothing but a tight, dirty white vest top and panties. Piper waved at him. She was dressed slightly more modestly in a loose-fitting green dress shirt.

"New story?" He whispered as he took off his boots and jacket.

"Yup. 'The Maniac and the Merc', detailing how our favourite Vault dweller stooped low enough to hire an ex gunner." She laughed when she saw MacCready's expression. "I'm kidding you. I'm writing a story on Vault 75. Apparently that one was for 'genetic refinement'. It's all very disturbing. Perfect news story material."

"Sounds fascinating." Stripping down to his boxers, he left his clothes in a small folded pile on the floor beside the chest of drawers and then climbed to the top bunk of the bed. He felt very exposed. Most of the time, he slept in his armour, being out in the wasteland. He knew Covenant was safe; the doors were locked, he was surrounded by nine foot concrete walls and there were turrets around the whole perimeter. But even so, it felt wrong. Still, when he climbed into the bed, feeling soft, slightly cool sheets and a mattress that didn't feel like a slab of rock or smell like blood and piss and worse things, he fell asleep almost immediately.