The trip back to Sanctuary had taken two days, not counting nights. By the time they shuffled their way across the old rickety bridge, the sun way already making its way over the mountains. Hancock stopped briefly to stretch, bones crunching dangerously, before stepping inside the perimeter. Nora had already flagged down Trashcan Carla, who looked like she had just gotten up and was taking her first smoke break of the day. Before he could make his way over to them, Garvey noticed him and made his way over.

"Hancock," the Minuteman said by way of greeting, "did you happen to find any of the stuff off the list I gave you?"

"Got whatever we could find," Hancock replied, lighting up a cigarette before rummaging through his pack for the replacement light bulbs and canned goods he was so dutifully carrying for Nora, "you should ask her Highness for the rest before she pawns it off to Carla."

Garvey grabbed the offered items and scrammed. Exhaling, Hancock felt the nicotine doing its work and shivered slightly. The early morning chill had been getting stronger as it approached winter. It was times like these when he wished his choice of dress was more conventional.

He watched the sun rising and worked on his cigarette.

"Here."

Hancock looked over to see Nora holding out a dirty-looking blue scarf. Curiously, he picked up the offered article, running his chapped fingertips over the bumpy material.

"Had to sell the old family farm to Carla, but you looked cold," she said, reaching into her pocket for a cigarette, "Can I get a light?" Hancock sighed, leaning over to light it with his own. She looked surprised at his move as though she actually expected him to waste lighter fluid.

"You may be able to handle yourself in a fight, but you still got a lot to learn, sister," he grumbled at her. She gave him a dopey smile before going back to talk with Garvey about supply routes or some shit. Always doing the most, he thought, his eyes lingering on her before tearing himself away to go hit the chemistry station. Those raiders they'd hit in the old quarry outside of town had been swimming in Jet, and he wanted to test out a new recipe he'd been working on.

About two hours later, he started to crash pretty bad. It wasn't just because he hadn't taken a hit since the last small encounter with Bloatflies they'd had a few miles out of Concord, either. Lack of sleep hadn't mattered when fear of death was around every corner, but now that there were dozens of heavy machinegun turrets between him and the Wasteland, he was starting to get all droopy-eyed and sluggish. He gathered up his freshly-minted chems and made his way back to Nora's house to crash on her couch. By this time, he would have preferred his own bed, since the couch was more wood and steel than cushion and cloth. He had even threatened Nora with crowding her out of her own mattress, but that threatening look she got in her eye had shut him up real quick.

"Honey, I'm home," he grumbled to himself, stopping in the doorway to scratch Dogmeat behind the ears before chucking his rucksack beside the couch and settling down into the old moth-eaten cushions.

He awoke the next morning, neck stiff and a moderately-sized puddle of drool on John Hancock's old uniform. He fell into a coughing fit for a few seconds, then started to rub the sleep out of his eyes. It was much worse since he had made the change from smoothskin to shambling dead. Suddenly, he got a whiff of something heavenly coming from the makeshift kitchen Nora had thrown together after their last trip to Concord. He got up and shuffled his way over, following his nose.

"What's cookin' good-lookin'," he said, his voice cracking and ruining his smooth playboy persona. He cursed internally, but it hadn't seemed to bother her much. She hadn't even turned from the stove, still working on whatever delicious concoction she had in that pan.

"Breakfast!" she chirped, "Also, if you're wondering where your boots went, I set them by the door. You fell asleep with them on."

Briefly, he wondered how long she had stayed awake for the day before. She had been awake for as long as he had, but hadn't shown signs of exhaustion quite the same. It was probably all the uppers she was on, supplied by yours truly. He wasn't too proud of being her supplier, but he realized the alternative would be much worse. And so it continued.

"Shit," he remarked blandly, "Musta been pretty serious if I forgot your no shoes rule."

She shot him a glare as he casually poured himself a glass of water. They both knew full well what he thought of her house rules. They had a sort of unspoken playful rivalry going on where he would drive her crazy and she would try to kill him by making him scout out dark areas that scared her.

"I hope you choke," she deadpanned, setting a two Mirelurk omelets down on the table and sitting down.

"Go ahead and keep the act up, sister," he chuckled as he sat, "You and I both know it's only a matter of time before you confess your singular, undying love for me and beg me to traipse around in my muddy boots."

She simply rolled her eyes and continued chipping away at her omelet. He mimed being shot in the chest, but decided to drop the farce and get to eating before it got cold. Still, he thought, regarding her as she perused the latest issue of Publick Occurences, it really was just a matter of time. They'd been in a sort of flirtatious limbo for a while. He knew what she was dealing with, though, so he was playing it smart. Biding his time. Of course, he wasn't above protecting her from creeps like fucking MacCready. Every time that scumbag tagged along, he always caught the sicko ogling Nora like a piece of meat. So one day while Nora was pawning off her perpetual horde of shit she kept in her pack, he pulled him aside and let him know where they stood. Sure, there had been some initial resistance, but there seemed to be a sort of mutual understanding between them now.

"Wanna go check out this museum I heard about while we were in Diamond City?" Nora asked, interrupting his train of thought, "It's about two day's walk east of here."

"No rest for the wicked," he grinned. He had no idea what he was getting himself into.

A/n: I wrote all of this on a whim. No bully pls. ( jk go ahead &bully, I could always use suggestions :^) )