Work Text:
Taking Duncan to the Third Rail was never a good idea. Irma and Daisy were both too busy to babysit and Hancock wouldn’t take no for an answer.
So here Maccready is, sitting at a corner table in the VIP section with a cranky two year old on his lap. The kid’s got a toy brahmin in each little hand, and he’s smashing them together while saying, “Fight fight fight! Fight!”
“Come on buddy. Brahmin don’t fight. Brahmin are nice.”
“Not nice. Fucking fight.” Maccready could hear the frown.
Hancock busts a gut laughing, Fahrenheit’s not even bothering to hide her grin. Assholes, all of them.
“Hey! We use nice words. Nice words! You say that again and you won’t get any juice.”
“Be nice; he’s at least using it correctly. That’s an improvement over last time.” Hancock’s still grinning. “I’d say he’s earned some juice just for that.”
“You reward my son for swearing before he can use a fu- freaking toilet and I’m quitting.”
“Nah. You need me, remember? Unless you think the Gunners changed their stance on traitors…?” The ghoul’s grinning like he’s the molerat that ate the cat.
The only reason Maccready doesn’t punch off the bastard’s remaining nose is because Duncan’s right there. He’s going to be a good dad. Good dads don’t let their kids watch them beat up people.
At least, he assumes so. He doesn’t have personal experience with any fathers, good or bad.
“Hey Boss, been expecting those mechanics for another visit?” Fahrenheit nods at the group that just entered.
Duncan plays quietly as the adults observe the group. Maccready recognizes the woman from the somewhat regular meetings with Hancock, and he’s pretty sure he’s seen the others passing through Goodneighbor at some point.
Hancock shakes his head and stands up. “Hey Des. If you’re here to make another trade deal, I’m off clock.”
“Just here for some drinks, Mr. Mayor. No business. Nothing worth kicking us out over.”
The woman and Hancock exchange a look and sit down at their respective tables in sync.
“Ugh, she gives me the heebie jeebies.” Maccready complains under his breath. Des led some scavvers who dealt with a lot of tech stuff. They were a pain in the ass, but kept Irma and KLE0 in business. Usually groups like that had the Institute's crosshairs on them.
“At least she asks for permission before trying to recruit. If she didn’t, I’d put a ban on all of them” Hancock grabs some loose Mentats from his pocket and swallows them down with beer.
“Liar.” Fahrenheit comments with no judgment.
The two devolve into the kind of petty squabbles that only family can have and Maccready stands up, Duncan on his hip. “Do we use bad words? Yes or no?”
“Yesorno.” The toddler echoes back, far more concerned with his toys. It’s good enough.
“I’m getting him some juice. Be back in a minute.” They don’t pay any attention to him as he goes to the bar.
Goodneighbor isn’t the kind of place where people have families. Sure there was a prostitute with a kid here and there, and people who had families did plenty of business here. But nobody wanted to raise their kids there (aside from Maccready, and even then he had his reasons).
So when he saw a man arguing with a kid about if it was too late for a Nuka Cola, the feral part of his brain that still acted like he lived in a cave just knew he had to see what the fuck was going on.
The idea of going over and introducing himself makes his stomach do a flip. He does the next best thing; adjusting Duncan so he can see the other kid and going to order some juice.
“Baby.” Duncan points at the kid, doing the work of getting their attention. Most kids would get pissed but this one breaks out in a grin.
“Look Dad, a baby!” The man’s giving Maccready a look. Like there’s something wrong with a man bringing his toddler to a bar at eight-thirty in the evening. It doesn’t bother him, since it’s Hancock’s fault.
“Hey Charlie, could I get a water but put it in a beer bottle, a glass of mutfruit juice, and a Nuka Cola for the kid? Put it on my tab.” That’s what the asshole gets for staring. Now his kid’s gonna be up all night.
“Woah! Dad did you hear that?” The older boy exclaimed.
The man’s gritting his teeth. He and Maccready both know there’s no way he can take away the soda without making himself the villain. “Sure did. What do you need to tell him?”
“Thanks!”
Maccready nods, grabbing the bottle and cup in his free hand. Once he’s sitting back at the table, he gives Duncan the juice.
“You guys done bit- fighting yet?” The question doesn’t need to be asked, since Hancock’s looking cranky and Fahrenheit’s got a smug grin, but Hancock sinks into his chair at the question.
“Mind your business. Unless you got me a drink.”
It’s not a question and Maccready’s not going to raise any hope. “Absolutely not. Buy your own freaking drink.”
“He owns the place. Don’t even need to buy a drink.”
“That’s even worse. You’re,” Maccready points at Hancock, “the worst boss ever. Ugh.”
He wouldn't have noticed who entered the VIP section, but Duncan points,“Baby! Daddy, baby!”
The kid from earlier is clutching the half empty Nuka Cola bottle and bouncing on his feet fast enough that Maccready’s worried about the kid launching himself into space. The kid talks to his dad before the dad goes to sit down with Des’ group. (Maccready’s not surprised, Des has a talent for employing the biggest assholes south of the Capitol.)
When Maccready steals a glance at the others, he finds them watching too. The kid sits on the ground, leaning against the wall and fiddling with a Pip-Boy.
“You should talk to the guy. He might be able to give you some tips.” Hancock breaks the silence that’s holding their table captive.
“Pass. He was giving me a funny look, so I bought the kid a Nuka. Hope the kid keeps him up all night.”
“He could have given you some advice about the swearing.” Fahrenheit says.
“Go fu- Uh, go kill yourself. Duncan and I don’t need any help, right buddy?”
Duncan looks up with his big, dark eyes. He doesn’t blink or say anything, he just stares. Maccready groans. “Boss, do you think you’re done with me yet? If I don’t put him to bed soon, he’s gonna be up all night. It’s not like this is even important, all we did was chase out Bobbi.”
“He has a point. Why bother celebrating her being gone when you’re going to fall for a new sob story of hers in a month? Then we’ll have to chase her out again .”
“Something happened today. I was trying to tune in to Radio Freedom- don’t give me that look- and the classical station was gone. I couldn’t tune in. Now Des shows up for no work or ulterior motive? Something’s happened. In a couple of days we’re going to find out something big happened. I intend on enjoying the calm for as long as it lasts.” Hancock taps his fingers on the table.
“So… Is that a no on going home?”
Hancock glances at the sleepy Duncan, his face softening. “Yeah, whatever. Make sure to wipe his face; he looks like he’s got a five o’clock juice shadow.”
“Seriously? We’ve talked about this man.” Maccready takes the handkerchief that’s offered and spits on it.
Duncan gets turned around, trying to wiggle away the moment he sees what his daddy’s holding. “No, Daddy! Fuck yourself! No, no!”
Maccready’s pause to take a breath is when shit hits the fan. Duncan takes advantage of the momentary weakness, twisting out of the grasp and landing on the cold tile floor.
Their eyes meet. Maccready can see Duncan mentally running the calculations to see if the shock is worth crying about. He hides his own concern, since that would definitely make him cry.
“Woah, that’s a pretty big topple you took. Do you want a hug?”
Duncan tearily looks at his father’s outstretched hand. Then he remembers what’s in Daddy’s other hand and stands up.
Maccready doesn’t know what he was like when he was Ducan’s age. Maybe one of the older Lamplighters cursed him to deal with kids who were just as much as a bastard as he was. Maybe what happens next is some karmic punishment for being a shitty person. Maybe it happens simply because Duncan’s an asshole.
Regardless of the reason, the kid fucking books it out of there. Maccready’s already on the chase. Ham won’t let Duncan leave alone if Duncan tries to leave the building, but it’ll be such a bitch to chase him around the crowd.
(Maccready makes a mental note to break whatever’s left of Hancock’s nose in the morning for cheering on Duncan’s escape. Fahrenheit would probably let him.)
Right as Duncan makes it to the hallway, an arm from Des’ table snaps out. A hand grabs Duncan’s own arm, right by the shoulder. Ducan stumbles but the arm keeps him steady.
Maccready slows down to a light jog, scooping his son in one swift motion. “Thanks.”
“I almost let him go, just to say thanks for getting my kid a Nuka Cola.” Maccready’s personal savoir looks him in the eyes with a smirk.
“Yeah. Well uh, thanks for not doing that. I owe you one. Anything you want, tell Charlie to put it on my tab. Maccready’s tab. I’m Maccready.”
“Nate.” The man says. “I’d offer a handshake, but you’ve got a handful.”
Duncan’s given up on escape, and is now trying to steal his father’s hat. While cackling.
“Bet it’s nothing you haven’t dealt with. You ever want to trade stories, I’m usually at the Statehouse.” Maccready laughs awkwardly. He pointedly ignores the look Des is giving Nate because hey; it would be nice to talk to other parents.
“Anyway, see you around.” He cuts off whatever Nate was going to say and leaves. It doesn’t matter that he left Duncan’s toy brahmins at the table, he’ll get it from the others tomorrow. No need to dwell on how nice Nate was.
Maccready puts his hat on Duncan’s head. Puts all of his focus on Duncan, which is what he needs to be doing. By the time they make it back to the apartment, Duncan’s asleep in his arms.
He feels a little guilty for not waking him up to brush teeth, but he’s two. Hopefully one night won’t ruin anything. Carefully, he finally gets to clean off Duncan’s face while getting him into his pajamas.
Duncan stirs a few times, but it’s easy to shush him back to sleep. Maccready tucks him in, and gives him a kiss on the forehead.
“Night big man. Daddy loves you.”