#renee kilburn

[ficbrish]

Waking Up With You Chapter 1

“That… was amazing” [AO3]

Rating: Explicit, 18+ only

Tags: During Canon, POV Alternating, Porn With Plot, Porn with Feelings, Developing Relationship, Shameless Smut, Fluff and Smut, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Grief/Mourning, Some Humor, She falls first, He falls harder, Friends to Lovers, Love Confessions, First Kiss, First Time, Kissing, Bathing/Washing, Shower Sex, Vaginal Fingering, Vaginal Fisting, Oral Sex, Ass to Mouth

[[TW/CW: Smoking, alcohol]]

They say people can’t get too close in the Commonwealth. You always know every day could be the last, so you separate yourself from the people you like before you can love them too hard.

Renée called bullshit.

You knew every day could be the last. That every moment could be your final. It made the people here love harder, faster. Death being more imminent didn’t make life duller; it did the opposite. Love in her world was expected, responsible, domestic. Love in this world was surprising, dangerous, and primal.

Renée felt her stomach flip as MacCready lifted her up and twirled her around. She shrieked. He laughed.

“We did it!”

They’d just gotten the cure to Daisy.

With Hancock having met them afterwards at the Third Rail to celebrate, Renée wondered how MacCready was still steady on two feet. That ghoul could drink, and he kept sending for rounds of shots. They tossed them back until MacCready finally told Hancock they had to fu—udge off and go to sleep.

They’d planned on booking a night at the Rexford, but Hancock offered them use of one of the statehouse’s spare rooms instead (and his security team that came with it). Now Renée and MacCready were alone, and she flew as he spun her around. Her chest felt crushed against his leathers. A buckle pressed into one of her ribs.

She could smell their evening on his breath as he spoke.

“Man, I could kiss you right now!”

He didn’t mean it.

“You got a cigarette?” she asked.

He put her down to pull two of them out of his pack. MacCready put them both between his lips and lit them with the same flame in one inhale.

“Here,” he said, handing her one, “Pretty ladies never light their own.”

Renée smirked, “Smooth as always, RJ.”

The first drag felt like magic whenever she was drunk. Her head felt surreal, beyond presence. When the smoke flew out from her lips, she felt like a queen.

“Forgot if he said we could smoke in here.”

Renée just shrugged and took another pull. Her response made them break into giggles like school kids.

They rolled out their sleeping bags as they smoked. Hancock’s generous offer was a pantry on the third floor across from his office. Believe it or not, it spoke to the immense respect he had for the both of them. It was actually one of the bigger closets he had to give, with only one shelf and an old TV crammed in there with them. There was even enough room to spread out, but they zipped their bags together anyway.

“You good there?” MacCready growled when they eventually crawled in.

He was lying on his back, and she wrapped an arm across his chest and rested her head on his shoulder. He placed an arm along her side too.

It was more comfortable that way.

She either nodded or nestled into him.

“’So you know,” he teased sleepily, “I don’t get this cozy with all my clients.”

She snort-laughed, “I’m special?”

“Yeah,” he chuckled, “You’re special.”

She took a pause before excitedly exclaiming, “OH BOY!” right in his ear. It was the most unserious thing, way too loud, and sent them both into hysterics.

Then they fell asleep.

Her last waking thoughts left a smile on her face.

Their nights now were such a contrast to those first ones; back before they trusted each other, when they were still strangers who’d formed a partnership over as little caps as she could get away with. Those strangers would never believe they’d be where they are now.

MacCready was so nervous the first night that he kept saying things like “after you” and inserting “excuse me” into the wrong parts of sentences. Renée knew she absolutely had to fuck with him the moment he started with those forced manners. She already deserved a reward for not saying anything about the way he’d stop himself mid-curse.

“Relax,” she’d teased, “I didn’t hire you to be my boy slut.”

He’d coughed and cleared his throat to cover the way he’d choked on it.

She’d laughed so hard he had to remind her to be quiet—Too much noise would attract nasties. His hand went to her mouth without thinking. He spoke his warning so close she could taste his cigarette.

She blushed when she didn’t hate that.

Renée didn’t tease her mercenary for the rest of that night. He didn’t talk to her either.

MacCready broke their silence the next day when he discovered she’d fallen asleep on her watch.

“Don’t do that!” he’d roared.

“I didn’t mean to!”

They didn’t shut up after that argument. They got tired of shouting, but never of talking. And eventually, story after story, buckets of spilled blood between them, they trusted each other.

It was all fine and good until the yearning set in.

Fuck the butterflies fluttering around her stomach when they were met with obliviousness on his face.

And how could those feelings even be trusted when she still wore another man’s ring?

*                       *                       *                       *                       *                       *

The poor man looked like he’d been shot. MacCready had just finished opening up about his dead wife. Lucy’s name still hung between them like it was a memorial.

Renée truly picked the perfect time to tell him she was in love with him.

To be fair to her, sharing feelings about each other was the main purpose of this heavy, first thing in the morning talk. And it was all his idea in the first place!

RJ had just broken Renée’s heart with the most sentimental thing he’d ever said to her, “I just want you to know how much your friendship means to me.”

Then those words slipped out, “I was hoping what we had together could be more than friendship.”

It came out as a suggestive flirtation, but it was really the sound of her heart breaking.

Now he was shocked and stuttering. There was panic in his ice-blue eyes as they stood across from each other in the pantry. They were hung over and hungry, and he just told her that his wife was dead, ripped apart in front of him.

All he could muster was, “I… I don’t know.”

Renée kept fiddling with the toy soldier in her fingers, the one from Lucy that he never went without. He’d given it to her so sincerely right before she ruined everything, like it was a ring.

“Then I met you.” Hope had bloomed in her chest despite her best efforts to tug out its roots.

He’d pushed her hair back behind her ears, “You have the world’s problems on your back and here you are helping me with mine… lending me your shoulder like Lucy did.”

There was no denying Renée was important to him. The toy in her hand proved it.

It just wasn’t the right kind of important.

Renée shut her eyes. She resented his scent as it gorged her starving senses like a favorite food.

“I mean,” MacCready kept stuttering, “I never thought of us that way.”

Yep. There it was.

“What about your husband?” he asked, searching for solid ground to stand on, “I know he’s gone, but you still love him, don’t you?”

The pit in her stomach flipped again. She was so confused. The way he said it held no accusations. It wasn’t another widow shaming her for losing the “holding on” contest. It was a genuine question. It even—it had a tone to it.

Renée looked back up at him. She could feel her pulse fluttering in her throat, choking her.

And what about Nate? What about the way he showed up almost every time she shut her eyes?

“Would it bother you if I still love him?”

“I don’t know,” MacCready admitted, “I mean, we’re two sides of the same coin, right? It’s true, I miss Lucy to death… but at some point we have to move on, don’t you think?”

Now she was really confused, and her confusion started to feel like possibility.

“That’s the past,” Renée said like it was her last shot in the dark, “You’re all that matters to me now.”

That was way too much.

“I… I don’t really know what to say.”

That was way too little.

But it did the trick. They both blushed.

MacCready took her hand, running his thumb over the back of it. She took a deep breath to steel herself against the electric shivers running up her neck. His hands were like a powerful drug.

“I know I was taking a chance dumping all my feelings on the table,” his tone was light and full of relief, “But now that I know how you really feel about me… It was definitely worth the risk.”

They chuckled and she squeezed his hand. Renée felt a wave of heat ignite through her, coming off him. It was like she could feel his pulse by experiencing it as her own. There was no turning back now. Whatever thin, red line kept that boundary up between them was severed by that little squeeze.

MacCready stepped in a bit closer.

“For once in my life, everything’s going right and I have you to thank for it. I don’t think anyone in the world could ask for a greater gift than that. Thank you.”

His hand moved to her hip, pulling her into his arms.

Renée looked up into the face of desire. Now RJ knew he could look at her like that, it was like a dam had broken. She felt his whole body press against hers and was overwhelmed by it.

With a slight turn of her head, her lips brushed against his neck, “You could have even more than that.”

MacCready lifted her chin. They kept looking at each other like they’d just walked in on something they shouldn’t have.

He tested the waters with a gentle tap on her nose from his. When she didn’t flinch or slap him away, he rested his forehead on hers.

Renée could already taste him inside her mouth when he asked, “Sure this is all right?”

She nodded, and the gesture made their noses nuzzle together.

“Fuc—” he stopped his slip of the tongue with her lips.

Their first kiss was gentle and hesitant. A caress of her slightly parted mouth.

Then it possessed them.

They reached out with desperate tongues; groans escaped their throats and vibrated across each other’s teeth. It wasn’t just the person. It was the taste and a feeling that grabbed at their whole being. It turned every urge into an action like instinct.

He got so hard Renée thought she’d bruise where he pressed up against her hip bone. She rubbed herself against him anyway, pushing into the pain.

“I need you,” she pleaded.

“Holy shit!” MacCready exclaimed as if to say, You actually want me! His face looked like Christmas morning.

Renée could only laugh, consumed by the irony of every time she held a dull ache in her heart from being so sure he’d never feel this way. She brought his face back down to devour him again. MacCready barely let her breathe, unwilling to relent on his new discovery.

Her hands went to work on his belt as they gasped in the spaces between kisses. She was dying to get into his road leathers.

“Breaking your vows today, RJ?”

“Sooo many of them,” he promised breathlessly as he trailed his hands up the inside of her dress, touching all the parts of her thighs that were new to him. MacCready usually cursed her habit of wearing a dress whenever they were in town, but today he blessed it.

Her skin shivered when he touched it.

“Please,” she begged, lifting his hand further up her thigh.

He practically moaned his question, “I can touch you?”

Renée gasped when he did, trailing his trigger finger between her legs. Her greed bucked into his palm.

“This is insane,” he said, moving her underwear to the side like he was lining up a shot and not quite believing it. His eyes rolled back as he stroked her soaked skin.

“I know.”

She caught his lips in hers. Something about his body chemistry made her head explode. Every kiss satisfied without sating, starving her further. Renée lost control of herself completely, and she couldn’t give a shit.

His finger practically fell into her with a slight shift of her hips. The groan started at the base of his throat and came out as, “God, you’re so wet…”

“I want you so much!”

He sucked her lower lip and bit it. It got a moan out of her.

Renée pushed him back into the wall and he hit it with a thud that made the stuff on the shelf shake. She jumped up, and he wrapped her legs around his hips. Their mouths kept tearing at each other until she cried, “Fuck me!”

“We already put away the sleeping bags,” he said stupidly.

“Turn around.”

He did and her back pressed into the wall.

“Oh, right.”

MacCready kissed her again before she could tease him for that. Renée caressed his cock for the first time as his pants fell down around his ankles.

“Holy shit!” they said together. Now Renée’s face looked like Christmas morning.

“Get inside me already, dumbass!” she murmured with affectionate impatience.

She gasped as he pressed his dick between her thighs, his smooth skin fumbling against hers, seeking entrance. It left the same magic on her skin as his lips and his hands and slid all the way in the moment it found her wetness. He filled her up so thick it felt like being torn in two, but instead of pain, there was a tight, sweet feeling she needed more and more and more of.

“I’m going to fuck you silly, Renée,” he said deep inside her, brushing the hair out of her face as he held her steady against the wall.

“Then fuck me.”

His tongue met hers before he started moving his hips. It came as a shock to her system to feel something so immensely within just a few thrusts. Pleasure was always something she gave, not something given. Not before the war. Not that it wasn’t fine with Nate, but…

No—Don’t think of Nate!                                              

“RJ!”

She moaned his name to bring herself back to him. He seemed to like it, groaning into her neck in response.

So she said it again, “RJ…”

She said it right against his ear. Low, like a prayer.

“Fuck! I don’t want to cum yet.”

“You can.”

“No,” he insisted firmly, “You first.”

He brought one of her arms over her head, pinning it by the wrist.

“I need to feel you cum,” he whispered on her lips.

“Okay.”

Talk like that usually made her nervous, put her on the spot. Her mind was tricky. If Renée tried to feel warm, she’d just get colder. But a burn would always result from touching a hot stove. It was bound to happen if he kept doing what he did.

“Don’t stop!”

“Never… never…” he panted.

That’s when the tightness started, and soon she was a body of fireworks, a living cliché. Her whole being shuddered, and the all-encompassing sensation beat her mind senseless. She held onto him like her life depended on it. If she let go, she’d burst into a billion parts.

His hard, fast pumping left MacCready panting; his face buried in her chest. As Renée’s ecstatic moment started to taper, he let out a course, animalistic sound low in his throat. His movement grew slower, and he twitched a few times. A wave of pleasure that couldn’t have been her own shot through Renée and died at the tip of her tongue with a whine.

He held her there tight. Neither of them moved until they stopped shaking.

MacCready looked up at her, breathless with a stupid smile slapped across his face. Then he kissed her, gentle and appreciative. And again. And then one more.

Only when she started laughing and saying, “Get off me!” was he able to take his cock out of her.

It would have been possible to look at each other directly while they cleaned up and got dressed if they felt anything less than they did. Renée was fighting her face to control it, while MacCready didn’t do anything to hide his happiness at all.

When they were ready to head out, he remembered something important.

“Fu—um… You’re on some sort of birth control, right?”

“Jesus, RJ! This is how Duncan happened, isn’t it?”

“Are you?!”

“Of course!”

There was a knock at the door.

Hancock’s voice sounded gloating, “Sorry to interrupt you two lovebirds, but I need the uh… that bucket in there.”

“What the fu-uh—la-la does he need a bucket for?”

Renée rolled her eyes, “You can open the door, you know.”

It came open slowly with a creak, Hancock waiting on the other side, “I know. It’s my door.”

“Still need that bucket, buddy?”

“No,” Hancock wore an evil grin, “Just wanted you to know I could hear you two all the way from my room. So, when’s the wedding?”

Renée dragged a knuckle across her eyebrow, “You know…”

“Thanks for the closet,” MacCready said, “It was a real pleasure.”

Renée shook her head.

“Better not have gotten any scuzz stains on my wood, MacCready.”

“Oh?” he raised his brow, “I can leave scuzz stains on your wood, all right.”

“Promises, promises.”

They could have gone on like that for hours but took pity on Renée’s suffering.

MacCready reached for her hand and squeezed it, “Come on, you relic. I owe you breakfast.”

[Next Chapter]

[leanstooneside]

Since before cocky was an egg

- Sarah Michelle Gellar's tooth (Dagenham Heathway)

- Bryce Dallas Howard's eyebrow (Turnpike Lane)

- Caleb Followill's belly (Borough)

- Chandra Wilson's chin (Barons Court)

- Stephen Dorff's eyebrow (Elephant & Castle)

- Kaley Cuoco's elbow (St. John's Wood)

- Keri Hilson's fist (Cannon Street)

- Minka Kelly's waist (Southgate)

- Frankie Delgado's shoulder (Ladbroke Grove)

- Renee Zellweger's foot (Hammersmith)

- Jake Pavelka's cheek (Swiss Cottage)

- Kyra Sedgwick's eyebrow (Sudbury Town)

- Alexander Ludwig's ankle (Stepney Green)

- Keith Urban's eye (Kilburn Park)

- Tyra Banks's eye (East Finchley)

[callanpurcell-blog]

work in progress post/person

A LOT CAN HAPPEN IN A YEAR

From June last year... “Hey Olivia, I just wanted to send you a massive message of encouragement and respect for the things you're doing for yourself. I'm in the midst of where you were a little while ago; trying to find funding ($40,000) for my college tuition. Ive finished my first year of studies and have two more to come. It sucks so much that there are people like us who live and breathe this art, and want to make ourselves better people and this world a better place through theatre, but money gets in the way of achieving those goals. It's clear though that you're unstoppable, and your path is one less trodden, going to workshops and intensives etc. Obviously there's more than one way to smash out a life in the theatre, and it's of great importance to remind people that acting school isn't necessarily the only way, and it's not the end of the world if it doesn't work out that way. Best wishes heading your way! Callan”

Saying bye to mum and dad was hard. A hug or four and before it hit me, I was beside a gentleman from Amsterdam who believed this generation can’t live without social media. We spoke a while and laughed a lot; swimming through topics of Australian foods, occupations, the red light district, the time he was deemed a pedophile when he took a photo of a man in a reindeer costume although the mother thought he was taking a photo of her child, the time I went to Uluru and found an overwhelming sense of belonging when the sun woke up behind it, Brexit, where the young people were during the vote for Brexit, the confusion of the air hostess when I asked for pepper but she came back with pepsi, the hilarity of Ad, the Amsterdam gentleman reclining his chair- causing the knees of the sleeping woman behind to wrap around her ears as her feet were on her fold out table, and the marvel of the amount of languages Ad could speak. I just flicked back to facebook and read that being grateful, or speaking of things that you’re grateful about is one of the most effective ways to combat heavier times. I’ll write my happenings very quickly from my first day, just for the archives, but then I’ll dive into the delicious selection of things that make me smile or have made me smile this last month. -Flying over London: that’s a big cloud -Flying into London: still, in a big cloud -Getting out in London: still in the big cloud -Tube strikes--travelled from terminal 3 to 1, 1 to Picadilly line, Picadilly line to Hammersmith, Hammersmith to Monument, Monument to City Thames Link, City Tames Link to West Hampstead, West Hampstead to Kilburn, Kilburn to St John’s Wood, walked from St John’s Wood to Belsize Park. -Inbetween: Damp ground, damp clothes, drizzle. -People pushing and stabbing with the umbrellas and huffing and cursing and yeah, a lot of pushing in- what the fuck?

Ok, that done and dusted. I just can’t let it harden my heart. I’ll learn to find the sunshine inside me.

I stand by the fact that it’s vital to ride through negative emotions just like the positive ones. If I push them down or go all zen and try and ride above them, I won’t a) ever let them out so they’ll just fester like the 16 capsicums I found in the fridge last year at my old sharehouse and b) i wouldn’t have the experience of negotiating myself and my ability through them to get to the other side. I thought that’s what I was training to do, again and again, night after night. Australia was easy for me. Every day is like a day at the baths. Glorious, yes, but easy. Keep it coming, London. But maybe give me a break on Sundays. Sundays are day of rest, remember?

AUSTRALIA.

A. warm welcome from the sun where I fell asleep at the baths and woke up with really serious sunburn. It was a familiar feeling- not being able to lay on your back for longer than 2 minutes, and applying Aloe Vera every other 2.

B.elvoir St seeing Girl Asleep; a play I’ve been wanting to see for about 5 years now. I also left a letter for a hero of mine, Matthew Whittet, asking him if I could work with him.

C.

D.ear Evan Hansen screaming out of the speakers while salty summer air flooded in from the windows. Tyran, how I missed you, brother.

E.pic

F.ish and chips from Stockton. The scollops were practically just batter. I also bought a BBQ chicken. We got out of the 39 degree heat, chucked the air conditioner on and dug into the best Australian meal: chicken and chips with chicken salt.

G.lenrock Lagoon reminded me of what it was like to see with senses other than the eyes. The journey from the carpark to Merewether Baths and back was glorious and worth every step. I’d made a ham and pickle sandwich to eat halfway.

H.earing wild dingoes in Central Australia as I laid in my swag looking up at the stars. Ok, well staring at the stars; making sure I didn’t draw attention to myself as they were drinking water about 5 metres away from me. I didn’t want mum to be the next one in line to say “A dingo ate my baby!” because, let’s face it, I’ll always be her baby.

I.nitiating the walk up Heart attack Hill. The first part to the path across King’s Canyon. Looking up it, you saw people in the distance, like ants. I’ve only had that feeling once before...when I was looking at California Scream in Disneyland.

J.ust spending time with family. Enough said. Especially with Harper though. Her look so intent. She’s a very good listener..and very cheeky. Seeing Uncle Gerry and Aunty Deb too were highlights

K.eeping true to the impulse of the letter. Another letter. A spontaneous yet respectful letter to a girl who had the most gorgeous smile at the baths. I guess that’s the only downside to not having a mobile. But I wrote my name and drew a wave, so we talked still.

L.ying with mum in bed like I was 10 again.

M.ilkshakes with dad at Warners Bay, and him letting ME pay for them...

N.ew years the way I like it. Quite, and symbolic. Spending the first few seconds underwater and being ‘rebirthed’ by gasping for air when I came to the surface. I love symbolic stuff like that. 

O.ld friends and family popping up out of nowhere.

P.opcorn and jersey caramels at the old lake cinema. This was the first time in a long time I didn’t care about rustling wrappers or sniffing or fidgeting, because it was just fun. It was another reminder that actually I AM able to just go watch a film or play and enjoy it because it’s an activity I get to do with the people I love. Rustle away!

Q.uiet conversations on verandahs with friends and really good chicken salad and fruit and new dogs and forgotten gifts.

R.olling around in Maitland with drama kids. Doing workshops back with Annie’s kids from Upstage reminded me that theatre is for everyone, and so is acting. You do lose perspective being at drama school, and think that it’s all a perfect little bubble...but in reality, some of the best comedy or drama I’ve seen play out is from a 4 year old trying to do his laces.

S.unrise at Uluru. Sitting in the red dirt, seeing exactly when the core of the sun rose from the earth with the rays around it.

T.he Universe had some gems up her sleeve. Tarni Kate Beau Renee Erin Daniel Hayley Dom Max Peter Kathryn Bridget

U.nderestimating the beauty of 106.1 classic FM. It gives a nice, lyrical quality to a Newcastle summer.

V.isiting Newcastle Art Gallery and the Newcastle Museum

W.hen Yong, a South Korean kindergarten teacher told me that when she first met me on the Uluru trip, she thought I’d be a “naughty boy”. I was both aroused and confused, but I think she meant ‘bad boy’ because my cap was on back to front at the start. I said I loved my mum and dad though, so there’s no way I was. 

X.tra special memory:

Y.oga and finding freedom in active meditation. Thanks Bridget xx

Z.inc and sunscreen. The smell will always take me back to summer. The colours will always take me back to the 80s.

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

10:54 Newcastle Baths 31.12.2016

‘Be the Sunshine Kid the World Needs.’

new music - INSTEAD OF - the ‘go to’ genres new books - INSTEAD OF - the kids books more veggies - INSTEAD OF - just chocolate more water - INSTEAD OF - pepsi swimming - INSTEAD OF - sleeping in yoga - INSTEAD OF - ‘just nothing’ active meditation - INSTEAD OF - ‘just stillness’ kisses and cuddles - INSTEAD OF - playing cool romance - INSTEAD OF - reality checks listening - INSTEAD OF - waiting to speak water - INSTEAD OF - bed risks - INSTEAD OF - regrets honesty - INSTEAD OF - political correctness focus - INSTEAD OF - indecisive heroes - INSTEAD OF - enemies anticipation - INSTEAD OF - anxiety healthy challenges - INSTEAD OF - obstacles encouraging - INSTEAD OF - forcing understanding - INSTEAD OF - replying commitment - INSTEAD OF - pussy-footing boiling hot - INSTEAD OF - luke warm passion - INSTEAD OF - playing it cool naked - INSTEAD OF - out of touch drawing - INSTEAD OF - nothing at all checking in - INSTEAD OF - checking out seeking knowledge - INSTEAD OF - desiring it doing - INSTEAD OF - saying invincible - INSTEAD OF - invisible warrior - INSTEAD OF - worrier star-gazing - INSTEAD OF - stone-kicking people person - INSTEAD OF - hermit singing - INSTEAD OF - silence just because - INSTEAD OF - this is the meaning of life discoveries - INSTEAD OF - decisions howling at the moon - INSTEAD OF - howling in your room honesty - INSTEAD OF - “INTERESTING...” questions - INSTEAD OF - answers using weight - INSTEAD OF - pushing against surrendering - INSTEAD OF - locking clarity and cleansing - INSTEAD OF - chaos change - INSTEAD OF - talking about change touching - INSTEAD OF - seeing sensing - INSTEAD OF - analysing planning - INSTEAD OF - procrastinating your journey - INSTEAD OF - theirs your drum - INSTEAD OF - theirs your love - INSTEAD OF - theirs saving - INSTEAD OF - spending BREATH. JUST MORE BREATH. AND MORE IMAGINATION AND COLOUR. London is my bitch - INSTEAD OF - I am London’s bitch sharing - INSTEAD OF - shame cleansing - INSTEAD OF - clutter negotiation - INSTEAD OF - right way / wrong way soul - INSTEAD OF - sight MORE SOLAR PLEXUS experimentation - INSTEAD OF - expectation making time - INSTEAD OF - finding time sweaty body - INSTEAD OF - not...sweaty intuition - INSTEAD OF - institution conversation - INSTEAD OF - confrontation beautiful thoughts - INSTEAD OF - bashing ones

[ficbrish]

Waking Up With You Chapter 2

“Damn… is it time to go already?” [AO3]

Rating: Explicit, 18+ only

Tags: During Canon, POV Alternating, Porn With Plot, Porn with Feelings, Developing Relationship, Shameless Smut, Fluff and Smut, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Grief/Mourning, Some Humor, She falls first, He falls harder, Friends to Lovers, Love Confessions, First Kiss, First Time, Kissing, Bathing/Washing, Shower Sex, Vaginal Fingering, Vaginal Fisting, Oral Sex, Ass to Mouth

[[TW/CW: Grief, smoking, alcohol, food, booty-eating, fisting, light dom/sub undertones]]

[Previous Chapter]

MacCready didn’t mention breakfast meant Diamond City. Renée had made the perilous trek between towns often enough by now to recognize their route after that first turn, but he still held onto their destination like it was a secret.

“We’re going to Diamond City, right?”

“You’ll see.”

Renée was so hungry by the time they got there she even started to regret passing up one of those super mutant grab bags on the way over. Sticking her hand into a pile of dismembered flesh, that had been lying on the floor for who knows how many days, and pulling out a bit of bloatfly would have been better than the pit of anger now festering in her belly.

MacCready looked so proud of himself standing in front of the noodle bar with his hands triumphantly placed on his hips. The light beaming through his expression made him seem as if he’d just gifted her the world.

Or maybe it was just the same shit-eating grin that refused to leave his face ever since this morning.

The robot spoke first, “Nan-ni shimasho-ka?”

“Yes! Two of them!” MacCready tossed his caps on the counter smoothly like a noir protagonist before his Icarus burn, “And stay nearby! Today we eat ‘till the lady’s had her fill.”

Renée settled onto one of the stools, “Oh, you dreamboat.”

He joined her with a tsk, tsk, “Better start showing some appreciation for my generosity, boss. I’ll unionize, you know.”

He looked up at her through the brim of his cap and her face flushed with sudden heat.

Two could play at that.

Renée gracefully reached for the side of his face. Her fingers gently wrapped around his ear, her thumb tracing along his jaw. The smugness left his eyes for something softer. He covered her hand in his.

“And how would you do that?” she purred, “You’re my only mercenary.”

MacCready took their hands off his cheek to rest them in his lap.

“I’ve got bargaining power,” he stated confidently, moving her hand slightly further up his thigh. He was subtle about it. No one saw. Her heart thudded as her palm brushed over that secret part of him.

Clouds of steam carrying the smell of hot noodles got placed under their noses.

They dug in without another word, slurping and swallowing without even tasting. Behind them some man started shouting at a security guard to stay away from his wife. Something like that usually immediately captured their attention, but the bustling market around them became a dull thrum to their senses. There were only noodles; they took over completely.

After all of about five minutes, half-satisfied and ready for a nap, Renée and MacCready sat back in their stools. The robot cleared their empty bowls.

“Noodles for breakfast?” she asked as they waited for another round.

“Well, it’s past noon, which makes this lunch. Perfect time for noodles.”

A gruff individual next to them in a green jacket and ratty cap interrupted the robot from its preparations, “They had some already! I’m next!”

They shared an amused look and a smirk. MacCready took his cigarettes out of his pocket and offered one to Renée, which she gladly accepted.

“You ever gonna get some of your own?” he asked, unlit cigarette dangling between his lips, “Or are you just gonna keep borrowing from me?”

She leaned in as he held out a flame for both of them.

Their faces hadn’t been this close since the walk over when he pulled her into an alley to steal a kiss. They smiled and blushed at the memory as they inhaled, and the sparked cherries cast a warm glow over their expressions.

He’d very obviously wanted the gesture in the alley to be spontaneous, but she’d known what was coming—he took the time to clear the area first. Now that Renée knew about Lucy, she could see her dreadful fate in every ounce of RJ’s thoroughness. She saw the strength of his affection in it as well. Words could never ring as sweet as the sight of his professional paranoia taken up a notch by her presence.

He’d tangled his fingers in her hair as he consumed her. It wasn’t wise to be so oblivious to the Wasteland around them. Having something precious to protect was the only reason they were able to pull away and keep going.

“Technically, all the cigarettes are mine,” Renée blew her smoke into the street, “I just make you carry them.”

“Gee, thanks.”

He took another drag and chuckled at the end of his exhale.

“What? What’s so funny?”

“This!” that ear-to-ear smile of his was back, “I mean, can you believe this?!”

Renée tried to hide her gleeful expression with another puff, but she wore the corners of her mouth as earrings just like he did.

Pre-war men only ever acted like this before they made it between your knees. Even Nate had tried to brush her off before she swallowed her pride and begged him to stay. It wasn’t about whether they cared for you, or how much. That’s just how men were.

Then that world ended.

“Oh, thanks!” RJ’s eyes grew wide as their second round of noodles got placed in front of them.

Renée tried to look at hers the same way he looked at his. Now that she wasn’t ravenous, the bowl in front of her had lost some of its appeal. It wasn’t the salve to her desperation anymore. It turned back into more strange food from this strange, new world.

Their hands touched as they put out their cigarettes in the ashtray between them. MacCready laced his fingers with hers and gave them a squeeze before he let go.

That feeling hadn’t changed since the bombs, that rush. Blood still boiled the same. Nerves still crackled like lightning.

Renée took a deep breath.

Maybe the lingering sourness would never go away. A pre-war relic, she would always be spoiled. She’d known the real Earth; RJ and most everyone else only knew Hell.

“This is shaping up to be the best day of my life,” MacCready said with a mouth full of noodles.

She slurped up some of hers through the steam. Renée couldn’t deny a certain comfort they brought. They were warm, hearty; and razorgrain added something exquisite that didn’t exist before.

Even taking their time, it wasn’t long before they were lighting cigarettes again over emptied bowls. RJ took hold of her hand and played with her fingers as they smoked.

“How long has it been since your last date?” He was absolutely smug about it.

“Is that what this is?”

“I didn’t ask you about this one. I asked you about the last one.”

She rolled her eyes, grinning, “Oh, you know. Over 220 years. But who’s counting?”

“No,” he chuckled, “That’s not what I meant. Before that stuff.”

“That stuff?” she laughed, “You mean the global, nuclear apocalypse and being cryogenically frozen?”

“Yeah.”

A cloud of smoke left her lips, “Do married dates count?”

“Of course they count!”

“Hmmmm… It was before we knew about Shaun. Actually… just a little before we found out. We went out to the drive-in.” She paused, laughing bitterly, “If I’d known that would be our last date—Hell, my very last trip to the movies!—I wouldn’t have fallen asleep.”

RJ’s face went a bit dark.

“Oh, fuck,” she realized, “I’m sorry. I wasn’t thinking about how—You know… Falling asleep and… and all that. Unless you weren’t even thinking about!—And now I’m bringing it up…”

He chuckled, “Hey, don’t worry about me. I can handle it, talking about what happened. Now that you know, I probably won’t stop talking about it. No, I was just thinking about how I—”

He thought for a moment and continued after a drag, “I understand it. That last day with Lucy… the two of us kept fighting. It was something really dumb; how my manners and language were a bad influence on Duncan, other small things I can’t really remember… Whether it was warm for the season! But really, it was just because we were hungry and tired.”

Renée nodded thoughtfully and ashed her cigarette, “Funny how that happens. It doesn’t matter how much you love someone. Eventually, everybody’s gotta sleep.”

Their laughter overtook all other sounds in the heart of the crowded marketplace. Their animated joy stuck out like radioactive material in the obsidian-black night, but no one turned their heads. The way their hands lightly rested on each other’s thighs marked their little sphere as too intimate to interrupt. Even catching a glance of the expressions in their eyes felt like a violation.

They lit another cigarette instead of ordering more noodles. MacCready pulled out a bottle of bourbon they’d found earlier from his pack to pass between them.

The sun started to dip before he leaned in and whispered, “Where can I get you alone?”

*                       *                       *                       *                       *                       *

MacCready hadn’t been inside Renée’s Diamond City house since the night she bought it. The shack was an impulse purchase she’d immediately regretted, something Renée did just because she could. Just because she went from someone who lost everything to someone who could throw away 5,000 caps just to lighten her pockets, and she needed something tangible and external to prove how far she’d come.

It was a tomb then, packed with a dead man’s furniture. Their first steps into its threshold disturbed layers of dust like piles of snow. No one had been in there since its previous owner disappeared years ago. The mayor never bothered to have it cleaned before he sold it. Just like Kellog’s house, it sat locked and untouched.

Contained, locked, undisturbed; these all meant one thing—safety. After months of watching each other’s backs, they finally had security beyond themselves and each other; walls with locked doors that only they had the keys to, a solid roof, and Diamond City security outside. They also had two stories of space to spread out in and the chance to sleep alone. Renée stretched out on the dodgy bed. MacCready took the beat-up couch on the floor below.

All that space in the dark. Alone.

Renée called down for him pretty quickly, and MacCready went right to her side without any hesitation. Back-to-back again in the dead man’s bed, they were finally able to sleep that night.

Everything about today was different.

They crossed the threshold with their hearts in their throats, having come this time solely for the purpose of sharing the same bed and each other within it. The moment that the front door was shut, everything they’d ever held back was expressible, even promised.

“Oh, woah! You did all this? Since when?!”

Renée laughed it off, “It’s just a side project. Nick and Piper sometimes help out too.”

The house itself had transformed just as much as their intentions. The whole place was completely gutted and renewed.

“Just a side project,” he repeated, mocking her in awe. “It’s amazing!”

“Nah.”

MacCready took his hat off. Then he shook his head as if he had long, flowing hair instead of his short crop. He ran his fingers through it, scratching his scalp along the way.

Renée always watched him do that whenever they were about to settle in for the night. He did it reliably, like a signal marking their territory. It wasn’t a unique gesture. Plenty of people took their hats off in similar ways. It wasn’t even a sign that he was relaxed. His back rarely faced the door; his gun stayed nearby. Just something he did out of habit.

This time with an uncharacteristically huge smile on his face.

“You have lights! And art! And a kitchen! That’s a whole kitchen!”

Renée chuckled at the way his voice cracked with excitement, “Yes, it is. You know what else it has?”

“What?”

“Indoor plum—”

“INDOOR PLUMBING?!”

“And—”

“And?!”

She couldn’t help but match that smile of his, “Hot—”

“No!”

“—water.”

“Shut up! No!”

“Yes,” she laughed.

“You’re crazy!”

Still laughing, she unlaced her boots and asked him to do the same.

“We should shower,” she suggested as they lined up their shoes by the door.

“Oh, you had me at ‘hot water’!”

Renée led the way, stripping off her clothes and leaving them in a trail along the floor to be picked up later. Everything she took off, he took off too. Socks left their bodies first, then bits of armor. They were both topless by the time the faucet started running. Their pants were the last to go.

They hadn’t kissed since the alley, but that was remedied the moment their heads hit the flow of water. It was breathless, gasping. Their lips made chaos of time. They’d only crossed that line this morning, but the feeling was ancient like meeting again across lives. Every touch was the very first and the very last. They had so much to make up for.

“Gross!”

“Eeew!”

Streaks of dirt ran down their faces like mascara on a rough night.

Renée was horrified, “But we took baths yesterday!—Oh god!”

MacCready caught her train of thought from the panicked look in her eyes, “Relax. I would have tasted it on your neck. No, this has gotta be from all that fresh Boston air on the walk over.”

“The walk you insisted on us taking?”

“It got us here, didn’t it?”

Renée smiled, “Guess it was worth it.”

She positioned her face under the water, eyes shut tight against the flow. MacCready was glued to the way the water bounced off her cheekbones and ran down her lips. The dirt washed away, leaving her cool, brown skin rich and fresh. He never let himself really, truly see her before, and the sight of her now hit his heart like a view of the ocean.

“You’re—”

She shook her head, stepping out from under the faucet, “I’ve got facewash somewhere.”

MacCready stepped under the flow while Renée leaned half-out of the curtain.

“Codsworth made these,” she said while his eyes were still shut.

“Made what?” he asked, and the water rushed into his mouth, which he instinctively spat out.

“RJ!”

Laughing, he stepped out from the faucet and wiped the water off his pink face, “Sorry! I didn’t mean to!”

“You just spit all over me!”

“What did Codsworth make?” he asked, laughter still dying out.

“What didn’t he make? We’ve got facewash, soap, shampoo, and moisturizers for both the skin and hair.”

“Skin and hair?” he teased, “Ol’ Butler Bot’s been busy.”

“Yeah, well, after 220 years of waiting around, he’s picked up a new hobby or two.”

They took turns scrubbing and rinsing their faces with Codsworth’s cleanser. It had a refreshing minty quality to it that made them both astounded he’d ever been kicked out of a town. Robot or not, this was art. But such an outcome was also plain and predictable; bigotry was never based on anything real.

Renée grabbed the shampoo after putting the bottle of facewash away. It came in a solid bar like soap, and its creamy color nicely complimented the lighter skin under her hands. MacCready always found them unbelievably soft. No matter how many times they picked up a gun, the way they felt defied logic. Not that he had a lot of experience touching her hands. Not yet. The sight of them now possessed him with an impulse to tear that bar out of her grip and press her smooth palm against his face. Then kiss her fingers one by one.

“Bend down,” she told him.

He lowered his head, ready for anything. She ran her hands though his wet hair, lathering it.

“Oooh, that’s nice.”

Renée chuckled, “Have you ever had your hair washed before? I mean—By another person?”

“No. You?”

She nodded even though he couldn’t see it. Her hair, now thoroughly soaked through, bounced with loose, dripping curls.

“By my mother when I was a kid. And then every time I went to the salon,” she answered.

“God this feels good.”

“Not even before a cut?”

“Always cut my own hair. I even did Lucy and Duncan’s.”

“Wow. Impressive.”

“Don’t lie.”

“I’m not!” she giggled.

When she took her hands away from his scalp, he straightened up and shook his head like a dog. Speckles of suds flew everywhere.

“You’re next,” he was barely audible over her shrieking laughter.

MacCready’s hands were strong and covered her whole head. She was going to tell him to make sure to really get into her roots, but she didn’t have to. The same focus and concentration he had through a scope, he took to her coils.

“How do I compare?” he asked, a cocky smirk in his tone.

Renée couldn’t help but cackle, “Compared to who? My mother? Or the women at the salon?”

“I don’t know. If you tell me I’m not as good as Ethel or Tiffany…”

“Ethel and Tiffany?” she laughed, “Why is that their names?”

“Old world names,” he shrugged.

They were too hysterical to help each other out with the conditioner. Every time MacCready started to touch her hair, he pretended to be Tiffany, and Renée kept doubling over from the joke. They had to scrub and rinse it out of their own hair.

She grabbed a washcloth when they were done.

“We’re not sharing that, are we?”

“Obviously not, RJ,” she rolled her eyes, “Turn around.”

“What? You’re going to wash me now?”

“That’s the idea, smartass.”

“Nah, uh, ladies first,” he took the sudsy cloth out of her hand, “You turn around.”

MacCready’s touch was rough, but thorough. He started with the back of her neck and went up behind her ears before moving on to her shoulders.

“Arm’s up,” he told her, and scrubbed her underarms as she lifted them. It tickled and she broke into squealing breathlessness. She felt him grow a bit behind her as she squirmed against him, a thickness starting to poke her bottom.

He brought the cloth down Renée’s spine next. One, slow stroke followed by a kiss to her shoulder, and she let out a long sigh. He meticulously attended to each part of her back, washing from left to right, top to bottom. Then he took the same level of attentiveness to her arms. One at a time, he wrapped them in the sudsy cloth before dragging it all the way down to her fingertips.

“The trick is getting under your fingernails,” he said scrubbing them, “Dirt likes to hide under there.”

“Oh, does it?” she chuckled.

MacCready washed his along with hers. Holding her hands as he scrubbed them, he traveled from her fingertips to his.

“Can’t wait for me to do that?”

“Not with what I have planned.”

“Really? And what would that be?”

“You’ll see.”

His confidence seemed to vanish when he asked her to turn around so that he could wash her other side. Renée noticed his eyes dart down.

He guiltily looked back up, “You ready?”

She snickered, “You like my boobies, RJ?”

His shock of laughter ricocheted boldly across the tile walls, echoing around them before he decided to play along, “I do, but they’re not nearly as nice as mine.”

The army had beaten the silly stick out of Nate. Renée was so used to his disgruntled reactions that time seemed to split out of MacCready’s playfulness. She found herself falling so easily into something familiar, affectionately provoking the man who made her melt. But RJ’s responses were so different. Not better, not worse. Just different, and she saw the moment play out both as what it was and what it wasn’t.

MacCready’s nervousness seemed to disappear when he brought the cloth over her throat and collarbone. Renée could feel her pulse race up by her ears. Then his hand moved over her heart and a calm rushed over her. A sigh came out like a half-sob.

“You okay?” His eyes and expression were tender with concern.

She nodded, “Just feels really nice.”

“I like it too.”

She smiled; her eyes still closed.

“Um, can I…?” he asked, staring at her breasts.

She caught his gaze, “Go ahead, RJ.”

“Man! I’ve thought about doing this—I mean!”

Her face already hurt from laughing so much, “It’s okay. I’ve thought about it too.”

“Then, um…” he brought the cloth over one and rubbed his hand over it.

“You feeling me up, MacCready? Or cleaning me?”

“Both,” he chuckled.

He took his time on each breast, and then brought an equal amount of care to her waist. When he finished washing her belly, he got on his knees and kissed the stretch marks adorning her hips.

“That’s dangerous,” she sighed.

“Nuh uh. Not yet.”

He rubbed the cloth all over her hips before bringing it between them.

“You ready?” he asked looking up at her.

She grabbed a fistful of his wet, clean hair, “Do it.”

He pulled the cloth between her legs, tenderly scrubbing every detail. She couldn’t help but laugh.

“You ever have anyone do this for you?”

“No,” she admitted, “It’s kind of weird. But I don’t mind you doing it.”

Still kneeling, he scrubbed her thighs next. RJ kissed her knees when he finished them, before moving onto her calves. Then he lifted her feet up one by one and even got between her toes.

“Not having your stinky feet in my sheets tonight.”

“I could easily kick you in the face right now, you know.”

“But you won’t.”

She almost fell backwards pretending to try. He caught her as she started to slip.

RJ saved the best for last, “Show me that a—spin around.”

She obliged, “Is this situation not explicit enough yet for you to curse in?”

“Not yet.”

Renée felt the smack of the wet rag bounce off her ass and gasped.

“Shit! Was that okay? I mean—Shoot was that okay?”

She wiggled her hips, “Do it again.”

She felt it hit the other side.

MacCready scrubbed each of her cheeks individually before getting between them. And once he got between them, he seemed to never want to leave.

“You good back there?”

“Uh… too good.”

You could hear her stupid grin in her tone, “I must be pristine enough now to eat off of.”

“And good enough to.”

His words and the ragged way they came out bewitched her.

“You can put your face closer if you like.”

She felt his nose brush against her cheek and caught the groan in his throat.

“You like my ass, RJ?”

“Yes.”

She smiled, feeling like a femme fatale from one of Nate’s movies, “I bet you want to eat it.”

“I do. Please, boss. Please let me taste your ass.”

He said “Boss” like it was the name of a deity. It made Renée want him to pin her down and tear her to pieces.

“Go ahead, merc. Eat it.”

His tongue went right for her asshole with a high, desperate moan. Renée braced herself against the wall and spread her legs apart as he licked around it and sucked. He squeezed her cheeks in his hands, crushing his face between them.

His moaning and gasping under the flow of water was driving her mad, “I need you RJ.”

It took him a moment to pull away, “You’ve gotta wash me off first. But I guess… Since I like ya, I could let you cum.”

“Please,” she begged, arching her back.

He resumed his task, bringing his fingers to her front. He teased them along her folds as he indulged in her ass. She felt so good he bit her ass on the cheek and moaned.

His fingertips found her stiffened clit and traced circles over and around it. He resisted the urge to feel inside of her until she pleaded more. When he finally just had to, Renée cried out with relief.

“More!” she demanded again.

He added another finger.

“More!”

And another. In fact, he ran out of fingers before she ran out of demands. RJ pumped in and out of her with his whole fist as his other hand teased her clit. His tongue played with her asshole and licked up and down her crevice.

He didn’t stop until she screamed and clenched around him.

He held her steady until she regained her balance, her knees having gone weak. She turned around. He was still kneeling, and she was still shaking.

“Your turn,” she panted.

They laughed as he stood up and Renée changed out the washcloth. MacCready held his mouth open under the water and rinsed it out a few times.

“I want you to kiss me,” he explained when he caught her watching.

Renée could barely even think, so she stole RJ’s scrubbing technique starting with his back. His shoulders somehow seemed even wider without his clothes on.

“You’ve got moles.”

“Guilty.”

“I like them. One, two, three… four, five of them. They look pretty on you.”

“Pretty? Me?”

“Yeah. I said what I said.”

He chuckled, “Thank you.”

“In fact… You’ve got a lot of pretty things on you, RJ. For example…”

Renée liked how she could tell from the back of his head that he had his brow raised.

She reached around to his front and grabbed hold of what she was looking for, “I think your dick is one of the prettiest ones I’ve ever seen.”

She could feel it pulse in her grip, throbbing as thickly as the heart inside her chest. Her breasts pressed into his back, and she could feel the echo of his own heartbeat under his skin.

MacCready’s body tensed when she let go of it. She resumed scrubbing his back.

Renée cleared her throat, but neither of them talked. She just kept washing him in the same way he washed her. Top to bottom, chest to toes. Until there she was on her knees, face-to-face with his cock as the water beat down over her head.

“All clean.”

MacCready had a hungry, far-away expression on his strained face as he ran his hands through her wet hair. His eyes rolled back as she took hold of his shaft and placed her lips at its head. She opened her mouth, and he let himself be consumed.

He groaned and gave into it a bit before lifting Renée off her knees.

“I can’t get enough of this,” he said through a mouthful of kissing her.

“I need you, RJ.”

“Say it again.”

“I need you.”

They were slippery, but MacCready still managed to lift her up into a similar embrace from this morning. With her legs wrapped around his hips, he guided himself between her thighs and dove inside her. She greeted him with a high, ecstatic whine and a gasp.

He leaned in for another kiss. It was his new favorite thing, rutting deep within her while messing with her tongue.

“I want more,” Renée moaned into him.

He groaned from the frustration of leaving her lips, “Wanna get on the floor?”

She nodded and he carefully let her down after pulling out.

Renée got on all fours with her ass up and felt MacCready catch it in his strong grip.

“Get back inside me,” she begged.

“You really want me?”

“I want you deep, please.”

She gasped as he put in his full length, with his big, rough hands wrapped around her hips adding power to his thrust. She could feel his balls clap against her as he continued to bash himself into her again and again. It shocked her how much she liked that. It sent waves and rushes of blood from her stomach to her toes.

“Fuck me,” she shouted over the water. It echoed, bouncing between the tiles.

He slowed down and she groaned.

“Cum for me and I’ll go fast again.”

It was already happening before he asked. When he felt her tighten and pulse, he sped up.

Renée’s head felt the same as it did after a second hit of psycho jet. Nothing in all her fantasies of him could have prepared her for the feeling of an orgasm being torn out of her right on top of a waning one the way it was happening now.

“I’m still cumming,” she squealed in a voice she didn’t recognize.

He just moaned, and that echoed through the shower too.

Renée felt incredibly stupid when the next wave came on. Nothing of herself was left but a sensation that compared to having her soul sucked out of her body through his cock. No thoughts. No sense of being. Just a vague sense that if he stopped now, it would kill her.

“I’m cumming,” she heard him shout, “Oh god, I’m cumming!”

The sound of his voice was far from her consciousness. Consumed with sharp pleasure, her being was boiling inside her center and being torn apart like a star meeting a black hole.

It was like she could feel his climax on top of hers. Like the bruise of two good aches stacked on top of each other.

The sensations finally let go of them. He fell back onto the shower floor in a daze, and she settled onto his lap. They sat there holding each other under the water with the best kind of overwhelm.

Finally, MacCready was able to speak, “Can we get out now? Kinda getting sick of all this water.”

Renée kissed him in agreement, laughing her mind back into her head.

*                       *                       *                       *                       *                       *

“Codsworth make this too?” MacCready asked as Renée rubbed lotion on his back. He was lying on his stomach on her brand-new bed, in what was a completely different loft than the one from before. It was well-lit, clean, and colorful; with Grognak posters covering the walls and bright green plants in every possible corner. She straddled him, still naked, running her hands all over the length of his back.

“No, um… Actually, this one was a… a gift.”

Her response was uncharacteristically cagey, but she sounded more shy than secretive. MacCready wasn’t about to pass that up.

“From?” he poked.

“A certain… a certain singer at the Third Rail.”

“Magnolia?!”

“Don’t start!”

She could see his heaves of laughter through his back.

“You fucked Maggie?”

“Wait, she lets you call her Maggie?”

“Not to her face.”

Renée playfully smacked him between shoulder blades. It was gentle, but he acted like it wasn’t.

“Ow!” he laughed.

“Oh no, my hands slipped!” she said unconvincingly, “They’re just so lotion-y.”

“Uh, huh.”

“Wait, did you fuck her too? Did we fuck the same person?”

“I tried,” he shrugged, which from his current position was more like a squeeze of his shoulders.

Renée laughed, “Damn do I have better game than you, RJ?”

He twisted around and pulled her squealing down onto the bed. Again, he found himself all over her mouth like it was a drug.

“Holy shit, where have you been?” he asked breathlessly.

“Language!” she teased, “And right the fuck in front of you. This whole time!”

“Sharing the same bed,” he laughed.

“You’re an idiot, RJ.”

“I really am!”

“No! You’re not!” she pouted.

“Okay. I’m not.”

She smiled again, “That’s better.”

Looking at him like that, she found words that felt like a betrayal. She was only supposed to find those words while lost in different-colored eyes. They were the only thing on her mind, the only thing she wanted to say. But they felt like spitting on the dead, so she held her tongue.

MacCready knew her better than that, knew there was always a story behind her knitted brows.

“What’s up?” he asked, suddenly serious.

She smirked without any levity in it. Then she just shrugged. MacCready took the hint to just sit there and hold her.

“Moving on…" she started hesitantly, “Moving on means not holding back with each other for the sake of the past, right?”

“Right. I’d say so.” He didn’t know where this was going, but he was patient.

“And that doesn’t erase them? Moving on?”

Something in her tone made him think of Duncan. It shared a quality with the way he’d ask if there were monsters in the night.

He thought for a moment, searching for the best answer.

“I don’t see how anything ever could.”

Renée buried her face in his chest. She groaned a few times, and lightly banged her head against his bones before speaking again, “The things I want to tell you feel like cheating even though I saw him die.”

“I think I know what you mean.”

“Yeah.”

“You don’t have to say anything before you’re ready to, but can you tell me one thing?”

“Hmm?”

“Is it good or bad?”

“Good.”

“Good.” He breathed a sigh of relief that made her head lift and go down with his chest.

“I just… um…” Renée bit her lip, “And I’m not saying that I’ve never been satisfied or that Nate was bad or anything. Okay?”

“Uh, okay.”

“I’ve just… I never… I don’t think I’ve ever cum that hard before. Like I’ve done it, but I’ve never felt that.”

She looked up to find the most disgustingly smug expression on his lips.

“Oh, fuck off with that,” she warned him.

“What?” he was grinning so hard that his voice was strained with self-satisfaction.

She just lowered her eyes.

He softened his, “Hey, come here.”

His hand consumed the side of her face and she shut her glare with contentment.

“I don’t know if what I felt was more intense or just different, but I know I haven’t felt anything like that since Lucy. And you two are impossible to compare.”

“Lucky. I can’t help comparing you and Nate.”

“That’s okay too. A little scary, but okay.”

She chuckled, “You really don’t compare us?”

“It’s not that I can’t, it’s—Okay I know this sounds silly, but I don’t compare you because it would break my heart. Not because you’re better or worse! Not anything like that. But because it’s… It’s not fair. You can love Nate forever, and I can love Lucy forever, but they’re not here. We get to feel this, and be this together, and they’re just dead.”

Renée adjusted her arms to hold him tighter. They stayed there like that for a while, holding onto each other as a tether against cosmic injustice.

She spoke again to lighten the moment, “Magnolia was my first here. After Nate.”

“Maybe it was the blue vault suit.”

“Oh, are you not gonna let this go now? That I’m better than you?”

“It’s tight in all the right places.”

“RJ!”

MacCready sat up, bringing Renée into his lap. They were both naked, their cleaned skin still drinking up the lotion they’d put on after their shower.

He held the back of her neck and spoke so close to her lips that they touched on certain words, “And after Magnolia?”

“Just some guy.”

She’d save the story about Pickman for later. It was a long one, and she was enjoying the way he was so close to her mouth too much to interrupt it.

“And then?”

“And then you.”

The way he finally grabbed her lips was hungry.

“And then?” he asked again.

Her eyes were soft, “And then just you.”

“Yeah?” his voice had a desperate hitch.

“Yeah.”

“Say it.”

“Just you, RJ. Only you.”

“For how long?” he asked, kissing all over her neck.

“Forever,” she admitted, “Is that crazy?”

“Yes. But I like it.”

It was their first time in a bed. Not a pantry wall or a shower. It was the first time he threw her legs over his shoulders and heard her scream his name into his chest.

It was the second time she came that hard.

Afterwards, only MacCready could speak, and then it was only one word, “Cigarettes?”

The terrace was the best part of Renée’s impulse purchase. All the buildings in Diamond City were ugly, but seeing rooftops sparkle in the city-lit darkness always had some kind of magic to it. No matter where you were or how good the view.

Plus, it gave her a place to smoke.

“We smoke inside all the time.”

“Yeah, but not anywhere that’s ours. This is my house. I bought it. We smoke outside.”

“Woooow,” he took a drag, “Take off your shoes, smoke outside… You’ve got rules.”

“I do.”

“And here I thought you were the lawless type.”

“I am! People are complex, RJ.”

He laughed.

Then he wrapped an arm around her and said, “I wish we never had to go.”

He felt her nod against his shoulder.

“Hey, Renée?”

She looked up at him with her cat-like blue eyes, a trail of smoke leaving her lips, “RJ?”

He kissed her once before he spoke, “I love you. Big time.”

She smiled, “Big time?”

“Huge,” he grinned.

“I love you big time back.”

*                       *                       *                       *                       *                       *

They fell into a pattern for the next few precious days. From the bed to the terrace, and the terrace to the bed, they dragged each other into a blissful oblivion.

Unfortunately, it wasn’t in the stars for them to stay. Reality waited by the door. It hovered on the welcome mat, haunting their ecstatic pause.

One night, smoking on the terrace, MacCready opened the door and let it in.

“Daisy, uh… Daisy said I could leave with one of her caravans to visit the homestead.”

“When—?”

He took a drag and ashed his cigarette, “Transmission came through today. Duncan’s doing great.”

MacCready’s voice got caught in his throat at the end of that sentence. Happiness and relief welled in his eyes, as did all his pent-up worry.

Of course Renée was happy, ridiculously so, but she’d literally killed for the moment RJ was having, and would kill again as many times as it took to have it herself. They knew Duncan was okay, and where he was. He was safe, cared for. MacCready had the chance to see him, hold him again. All while they still knew next to nothing about Shaun.

Renée spoke over the envy lodged in her throat, “That’s so great!”

They embraced and cried, celebrating that one of their children was going to make it.

“You need to be there, RJ.”

“I know. Would you—?”

She shook her head, “We’re almost ready to storm Ft. Hagen. I’d love to! But I have to be here.”

“Wish I could be here for that.”

“I know, me too.”

“I’m sorry I won’t be.”

“Please don’t apologize. It’s Duncan.”

He squeezed her tight, “You’re going to find Shaun.”

For the first time, she let herself feel her full fear. Her voice trembled, “We’ve already waited so long.”

Her cries were muffled by his jacket where she buried her face. MacCready held Renée while she broke apart. Months of terror, uncertainty, and searching came crashing out of her in hyperventilating cascades. His emotions escaped with hers, and they stood there purging every feeling until they had nothing left inside.

He got them water when they calmed down. Then they sat down and smoked until the sun came up.

One more day together, and then they’d make the trek back to Goodneighbor.

“Maybe when I’m back, we’ll be able to figure everything out for the four of us,” MacCready said as they sat there on her roof, “You, me, Duncan, and Shaun.”

Renée squeezed his hand, “I hope so.”