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danses-with-dogmeat · 3 years

Note

Kissu Anon: Oh First Kiss with Sole plz if that's all right! :3

[I'm not the original anon, but if you were to write about companions' first kiss with f!sole it would make my week]

FO4 Companions' First Kiss with F!Sole

(Part 1)

Oh, hon, it’s more than alright :3 This was so fun! (Tbh I’ve been waiting for someone to ask this so I could justify doing it lol, so tysm). Also, sorry, but I think this took quite a bit longer than a week 😅 because life got a lil crazy and someone got a little carried away with the prompt yet again. Whoops...

So, I wanted to get something out since I've accidentally been on hiatus for a hot minute, so this one is just Curie, Danse, MacCready, Nick, and X6-88. The rest of the FO4 Companions can be found in part 2, which is linked below!

Part 2 (Cait, Deacon, Hancock, Piper, & Preston)

(Oh, and I'm pretty sure there’s gonna be another version of this as well, since I think some of y’all were interested in companion’s first kisses in general rather than just with Sole, so look out for that as well! [eventually])

Curie:

“Madame?” Curie’s voice sounded from the other side of the house. Sole put down the ladle she was using to stir their dinner and made her way back to her old bedroom, where she had told Curie to make herself comfortable.

“Hm?” She peeked her head in, to see Curie gingerly holding up an old photograph to the meager evening light streaming in through the window.

“Zhis picture…” She ventured, her crinkled brows indicating her attempt to understand the image. “It iz, you and your ‘usband?”

Sole stiffened and cleared her throat in an effort to hide her surprise. How had Curie found her stash? She felt as though she should be irked at the way her companion had rifled through her things, but all she could feel was relief. Maybe it was time to let someone in, to see that part of my life...

Sole made her way to the bed, and sat beside the synth, nodding to her as she rested her eyes on the photograph. It had been the day her and Nate were engaged. They were standing outside Nate’s parents’ house, kissing beneath the small archway they had in their backyard. Sole’s engagement ring shone in the light of the camera flash as she held her hand up to caress her fiancé's cheek. Sole sighed unwittingly at the way the memories flooded to the front of her mind, drowning her in emotion.

“We weren’t married yet. This was when we got engaged.”

“Oh.” Curie said softly, “You look--”

“Happy?” Sole let out the breath she’d been holding in a small huff of mirthless laughter, “We were.”

“Non, belle… You look beautiful, I was going to say. But ‘appy too, yes.” She lowered the photo back down to her lap, careful not to smudge her fingers over the image as she tried to put it back in with the others in Sole’s memory book.

“Oh. Um, thanks. Definitely a little easier back then. Showers, and makeup, and, well… you know.”

Curie carefully closed the book and placed it on the bed beside her. She hoped she hadn’t overstepped any boundaries looking at these old memories, but she had been curious. It made her heart flutter in her chest to see Sole happy like she was in these snippets of her past life. Carefree, even. Not like now…

Curie wanted to see her smile like that again. Like she had in the photos, especially in the one just after the picture of her and her fiancé kissing. The way Sole smiled, the way she looked at him with such unbridled adoration… Could Sole possibly feel that for someone again? Could Curie make her companion happy like she was before, even after all that she has lost?

“In zhe photo, zhe two of you, you were--”

“We were kissing, yeah.” Is that blush I see? Curie could feel the warmth rising to her own face, but to see it blossom on the apples of Sole’s pretty cheeks, it made her stomach tingle.

Curie shifted to better face her companion, her fingers brushing over Sole’s hand where it rested on the mattress, sending a tiny shockwave up her arm and straight to her chest. Her eyes found Sole’s as she stared down at where their fingers now met.

“Have you…” Sole started, “Have you ever kissed anyone before?” Curie grinned and shook her head, and Sole raised their gaze just in time to catch her flustered reaction.

“I ‘ave not. Yet. But I would like to… One day.” Sole didn’t say a word, but their eyes were locked together as Curie felt her companion’s fingers lightly twine with her own below the threshold of her gaze.

“Ideally,” she continued quietly, their proximity allowing for her breath to shift a few strands of Sole’s hair where it fell over her face. “My first would be with someone zhat I like, zhat I trust.”

“Do you trust me?” Sole whispered.

She didn’t wait for an answer as she pushed herself forward, and Curie found herself instinctually leaning to meet her halfway. As soon as their lips touched, Curie found herself grinning at the sensation. The action made her tense momentarily, but as she gazed at Sole’s closed eyes, she let her own lids fall shut and focused on the way Sole’s mouth melded so softly to hers. She let the muscles of her lips relax and parted them slightly as Sole pushed deeper into her. The feeling was unlike anything Curie had experienced, unlike anything she thought she possibly could feel before her transformation. It was exhilarating. Though it was only their lips touching, Curie felt a warmth spread through her entire body, the sound of her own heartbeat was the loudest noise in the room, and she felt her palms begin to sweat as she drank in every feeling stemming from her partner.

Sole pulled away slowly, keeping her fingers entwined with Curie’s as her eyelids fluttered upwards. The blush had spread to her whole face, and as Curie’s wide eyes met hers, she looked away sheepishly. She hadn’t done anything physically taxing, but Curie found herself out of breath as she struggled to put words to everything she had just felt, everything she had experienced in such a short amount of time.

“Mon dieu… c'était incroyable. Is it… somezhing we can do often? Zhe kissing?”

Sole giggled at that, and a smile resembling the one in the photographs touched her lips. Curie felt her chest swell.

“Typically,” she started, her eyes slowly making their way back up to lock again with Curie’s. “This sort of thing is reserved for people in romantic relationships.” Curie cocked her head slightly, and her expression must have betrayed her internal disappointment, for Sole quickly continued before Curie could voice a word.

“But, I mean… maybe we could--”

“Yes!” Curie shouted, before she could stop herself. Her free hand flew to her mouth to capture the over-eager grin that spread across her lips and cheeks, while the other tightened its grip on Sole’s fingers insistently.

“Pardon, I mean, yes. I would like to be… ‘ow do you say, more zhan just friends?” Sole’s pause was drawn out, so much so that Curie felt her pace race against her ribcage, thrumming through her whole body as she awaited Sole’s response with baited breath.

“I think I want that too.” Is it appropriate to kiss someone again so soon? Curie didn’t know, but she did so anyway, throwing herself forward and into Sole as her companion laughed through their contact at her new partner’s enthusiasm.

Danse:

Danse’s words kept rattling around in Sole’s head. She sat outside the ruined house, Righteous Authority in-hand as she kept watch, but the landscape her eyes were meant to be trained on was blurred out of focus as she remembered her conversation with the ex-paladin. It had been weeks since he had discovered his true identity, and by no means did she expect him to be okay. Quite the opposite, actually. However, it was odd how well he seemed to be taking the unraveling of his entire world. She had brought it up to him out of concern, Sole of all people knew what it was like to bottle everything up in order to just barely scrape by, but she knew damn well how unhealthy that was. Her own spell of that sort of behavior had nearly cost her her life, and her sanity, and she wouldn’t wish the hell she went through on anyone, especially not Danse.

Still though, maybe she shouldn’t have said anything. Perhaps she should’ve waited until he was ready to reach out on his own… But she wanted to help him. To save him from the pain that she had let herself go through in the face of her own shattered reality. The way he had reacted though, it wasn't at all what she expected from him...

Nothing. He thinks he’s nothing. How could he? Haven’t I made it clear how much he means to me? What a difference he’s made in my life? Hell, if he’s nothing, what does that make me? I likely wouldn’t even be here without him…

Sole shook her head, attempting to clear it, if only for a moment. She should've spoken to him sooner, should have reassured him the moment those self-depreciating words had left his mouth. But she'd been so shocked to hear them, and hadn't known how to voice her feelings without revealing the entirety of her bleeding heart to him right at that very moment.

She stood up and peered around silently, listening and taking in the gloomy details around her once more before she turned and headed inside the house. The throbbing of her heartbeat pounded in her head as she crossed the ruined threshold and into the darkened shelter within.

Now. I have to do it now.

Danse had always been a light sleeper, even aboard the Prydwen, an initiate tossing their dirty suit into a basket, a proctor typing up a report on their terminal, a couple of chatting squires on the lower floor, all of the noises of life on the ship tended to have him tossing and turning. And out in the field? Haylen had practically had to drug the paladin to get him just a couple of hours of sleep each night. Now with Sole… He wouldn’t let himself be caught off-guard in the event that danger should commence around them. He laid on the bedroll with his eyes closed, drifting in and out of consciousness, and that was as close as he ever got to rest.

It was fine with him, his… kind probably didn’t need to sleep to function anyway; and though he brought this up, Sole still forced him to relinquish one of the night watches to her. But that was always her. Kind to a fault. Oddly enough, Danse felt himself begin to drift off. It had been almost a week since he’d actually lost consciousness and gotten “proper” sleep, and he supposed it was bound to happen sooner or later. But just as he felt himself slip away, he felt a pressure near his arm, and heard a small release of breath that came from the space above him.

Danse’s eyes snapped open.

“Sole?” He rasped, his voice thick with attempted sleep. Even in the low light, he could see that she was upset. Her lips trembled and her eyes glistened with emotion. Shit. What happened?

He immediately brought himself up into a seated position, trying to think of something to stammer out to try and comfort her, to find out what was wrong, but his damn brain couldn’t find the right words.

“You’re not nothing, Danse.” She whispered to him, and he felt a pang in his chest. Why the hell had he told her all of that? That was all Sole needed, more emotional baggage to deal with. Didn’t she have enough of her own? What had he been thinking?

He brought a hand up to wipe at his sleep filled eyes, taking the moment to collect his scattered thoughts.

“No. It’s alright, don’t feel like you have to--” He tried to appease her, but Sole wasn’t having it.

“No, apparently I do, since you just don’t seem to get it. You’re not nothing, okay? You mean the world to me, Danse. You’re my best friend. You’ve saved my ass more times than I can count. Even when I had nothing, I had you. And you were the one who saw to it that I had something to live for."

Danse blinked, trying to wrap his head around Sole's words as she spewed them out in rapid succession.

"You gave me a cause to fight for, a new place to call home, and a family. Even when I thought I was completely alone in this new world, you ensured that I didn’t feel that way. And I’m not just talking about the Brotherhood. You inspired me to fight for a cause that you believe in because it was you who believed in it. I didn’t agree with the Brotherhood on very many things; I’ll be honest, but I trusted your judgement. When I lost my home, you became it, not the Prydwen, or the airport, or the police station. You.” Though Sole said the words with such certainty, Danse could hear the way her voice trembled as she tried desperately to drill her words home.

“And Danse…” She continued, “you’re the closest thing to family that I’ve had since I woke up in that vault. You’re not nothing. You never were, especially not to me.”

Danse sat dumbfounded, mouth hanging open slightly in his shock. He wasn't particularly good at, or used to, receiving praise. What the hell am I supposed to say to all that?

Sole took a breath, but spoke up again before he had a chance to interject, “The truth is... God, I probably shouldn’t even be telling you this. Not now… but I feel like you deserve to know.” She paused once again, her eyes resting on his face as she thought through what she was going to say.

“Okay.” Danse said, nodding as he tried to reassure her. After all of that, what more could she possibly say to me?

Sole swallowed, and her eyes met his, searching them for a moment before she finally spoke.

“The truth is... I love you, Danse.”

…

Synths can short circuit, right? Surely they must be able to, because there was no natural explanation to justify the fuzziness in Danse’s brain that seemed to spread throughout his entire body until he felt like he was going to float up out of his own skin.

“You-- Wait, you… How is that possible?” He stuttered.

“How is that-- have you not been listening to a word I’ve told you?” Her words seemed harsh, but Sole smiled at him as she shook her head in mock exasperation. Danse just stared, eyes wide as saucers as he tried to make sense of the situation he found himself in. Sole gave him a moment to think it through, letting her eyes fall down to the bedroll he was seated on, so he wouldn't feel the pressure of her expectant gaze.

Maybe I really shouldn’t have told him… She waited another few moments, feeling as though each second was a brief eternity.

“... Danse?” She tried hesitantly.

He blinked at the sound of his name, and released a breath that he seemed to have been holding for an age.

“Yes. I’m here.”

“Is it, I mean, was it okay that I told you? I don’t want you to feel any pressure or anything, I just… I wanted you to understand how much you mean to me.” She wished he would have reacted more positively, but his brows just furrowed and he shook his head slightly, only emphasizing his apparent disbelief in regards to her confession.

“Even despite the fact that I’m a--” He started, and she cut him off before he could even finish the thought.

“Yes, even despite that. It doesn’t bother me at all. Trust me, Danse, please.” She insisted, placing her hand over one of his to punctuate her point. His arm stiffened, and he finally looked up to meet her gaze. There was a sort of somber uncertainty in his amber depths, a disbelief that made her heart ache. She could tell what he was thinking even without the words to accompany it.

How can she feel this way about me? Danse tried to search Sole’s eyes for an answer as more questions arose in his mind. Is she really telling the truth, or only telling me this for my benefit, in order to make me feel better? To feel, even after everything, that I’m still wanted? Still needed? Hardly anyone who cared about me before was able to overlook the nature of my true identity, how can she?

“I… appreciate what you’re trying to do, Sole. And everything you said, it was a munificent gesture for you to make, but really, you don’t need to waste--”

“I’m not wasting shit.” Sole stopped him before he could traverse down this path of depreciation any further. Before Danse could even close his mouth, Sole had leaned in towards him. She needed something stronger than words, since those clearly couldn’t persuade the ex-paladin in the way she had hoped they might. Her hand tightened its grasp on his where it rested on the bedroll ,and Sole pressed forward and brought her lips to his, a bit more forcefully than she had anticipated, but she needed to get her point across.

Danse tensed as soon as the contact crashed into him, dumbfounded for the second time that night. Was it possible he could be dreaming? No, he felt too alive to be unconscious.

To his surprise, there wasn’t a single fragment of him that felt like he should pull away. A warmth unlike anything he’d heretofore experienced spread through him; and despite himself, despite the way the action broke decorum, and the fact that he was allowing Sole to do something so incredibly human with someone who simply wasn’t, he found himself leaning into her.

Danse never realized how empty he had felt before. Not just since he found out the truth about his identity, but since he had left the majority of his "family" behind at the Citadel when he set off for the Commonwealth, when he’d lost Cutler and Krieg, all throughout his childhood that he spent alone, scavenging the wastes. He wasn’t even sure how much of that was real, how much had really happened to him that he could remember, but he knew this was real. Sole was real… and, had she been telling him the truth?

Her contact filled him with warmth, with hope, with a burning ardor he hadn't experienced since he had first joined the Brotherhood; and, for the first time since his world-shattering discovery, he felt truly alive.

Danse hadn’t even noticed that his eyes had closed, that his hand had found its way up to Sole’s cheek, that hers was now on his chest, bunching the fabric of his shirt between her fingers.

God, he didn’t want to, but he forced himself to pull away. Not far, though, their noses were still brushing as the pair separated and Sole’s eyes blinked open.

“Sole." He said, taking a breath as he tried to regain his composure, "Is this truly what you want?”

“Yes.” She breathed, “But what about you? This isn't… Too much, is it?”

Danse looked down, furrowing his brows slightly, but didn’t pull away from her. “It is… It’s a lot to process, I must admit.” Sole sucked in a breath, as if to say something, but his gaze shooting up to meet hers silenced her.

“But, that doesn’t mean I’m not willing to try. I… I want this too, I think. Just, please. Be patient with me.”

Sole beamed at that, and the emotion seemed to return to her eyes in a brilliant shimmer as she nodded to him, and Danse felt his own smile tug at his lips, still tingling from his contact with her.

This is real. He reminded himself, bringing his hand from her face down to his chest, where he could cover hers over his beating heart. He closed his eyes and took in a deep breath, exhaling as he pressed their foreheads together, reveling in the feel of that, now almost familiar, warmth spreading through him from her hand’s place over his heart.

MacCready:

MacCready couldn’t look away. Even as he felt his eyes fill with tears and his breath shudder in his chest. He swallowed hard and subtly wiped away the emotion before it could cascade down his cheeks as he took a few steps forward. He hated to interrupt, but something just... Overcame him.

“Ahem, uh, Sole? You got a second?”

“Sure, I got a bunch of them actually.” Her tone was light and playful, but the way her eyebrows creased told him that the emotions currently overwhelming him were pretty obvious, but MacCready just set his jaw and made a motion to turn so Sole could follow him.

“Don’t be too long!” Duncan shouted from his place in the meager patch of grass outside of the even more meager home where he’d been staying all the while MacCready was away in the Commonwealth. A worn set of carved wooden toys were splayed around him and Sole’s little playing area as the boy pouted up at his father for stealing his playmate away.

“Oh, don’t worry, she’ll be right back. I promise.”

The pair settled a little out of Duncan’s earshot, standing beneath the bare branches of a hollow tree. Sole raised her eyebrows as MacCready stood and fidgeted, wringing his hands as he desperately tried to recall everything he wanted to say. All that had just swarmed his mind, his thoughts and sentiments, thanks and praise at Sole’s unfathomable generosity and kindness, it was all just… gone. His mind was a busted radio station, all white noise with the occasional semblance of a tune making itself heard before vanishing again into nothingness.

He stuttered a few times, eyes darting up to catch Sole’s inquiring gaze for a fragment of a moment before flitting away. It was as though his pupils were searching the air around his companion for the right words. If they couldn’t be found in his head, perhaps they would be present elsewhere? Anywhere would be nice, so he could put an end to this shameful freaking silence. He felt his palms begin to sweat as he forced his hands away from each other, bringing them to his sides as he raised his head and straightened his back. He looked poised to say anything; if he looked ready, maybe the words would come.

Sole’s eyes looked him up and down as she subtly cocked a brow at him, her lips split apart as she prepared to talk first, to break the dreaded silence. MacCready couldn’t allow it, he didn’t know what to do. What he was doing, until his hands were already on her. His sweaty damn palms pressed to each of her cheeks as he fell forward into her. Squeezing his eyes shut as tight as he could, MacCready dove, lips first, into Sole. His nose pressed into her cheek, and his lips were surely too tight for the kiss to feel relaxed in any sense of the word, but like he said, he didn’t know what he was doing. Even he wasn’t ready for his own sudden outburst.

But Sole didn’t force him away. She made a sort of surprised sound as he pressed to her, and he was sure her eyes were wide open in light of his action, but after a moment, everything seemed to settle.

His fuzzy, disoriented mind couldn’t find anything to focus on but the feel of her lips against his, the warmth and softness of her cheeks beneath his calloused palms, the way her own hands raised up to press against the backs of his, holding them in place, despite her inevitable shock at his actions. He was afraid she had put her hands over his in an effort to pry them away, that she would push him back and demand to know what the heck he was thinking. He wouldn’t blame her, he was actually wondering the same. But by some miracle, she pushed closer to him.

Could... Could she actually be enjoying this?

Even as MacCready pulled away, he was dazed by the overwhelming euphoria their brief union had injected him with. He took a step back, breathing hard as he felt his heart pound against his chest. He hadn’t noticed any of this until now, not his fast-beating heart, nor the heat that had risen to his face, not even the way his hat had nearly flown off his head at the quick movement of him diving towards his companion in his panic and desperation to express his appreciation for her. It had only been her that he noticed, the warmth of her, her softness, her closeness, the way her breath had hitched as he surprised her, the way his hands tugged slightly at the smooth strands of her hair as he held them flush to her cheeks.

Damn.

“Uh, ahem. I… Sorry, I don’t know what came over me there… Probably should’ve asked you first, huh?” MacCready rubbed the back of his neck and tried to re-situate his hat on his head as he attempted to explain himself. “Just… I wanted to thank you. But words didn’t seem to be enough. The truth is, I’m-- well, we’re only here because of you. Because you convinced me that even after everything, all of this time that's passed, my son would still want to see me. And Duncan… he might not even-- well, without you, he probably wouldn't-- I don’t know. Thank you, is what I’m getting at. I don’t know how I’ll ever repay you, I mean, I won’t. You’ve given me my whole damn life back. Helping me with the gunners, and Duncan’s cure, and coming all the way out here, just everything. You’ve given me hope again, and a reason to be happy. And I wanted to show you that… that maybe, maybe I’ve moved on from my grief. And, I don’t know, I thought, maybe, you could, too… With me, that is. Dammit, why the heck is it so hard to talk to you right now?”

Despite Sole’s better judgement, and the truly touching subject matter, she couldn’t keep from laughing at MacCready’s flustered frustration.

“Okay, what about this is funny to you?” His stern expression only made Sole double over again, and MacCready narrowed his eyes, folding his arms over his chest in a defensive gesture. He’d just poured his soul out to his companion, and she was laughing her ass off. What had he done wrong?

“Well?”

“I’m sorry," She said, as the laughter died down, "No, it’s not funny, it's just, you being the flustered one after you kissed me. And, I don’t know, I just got this wave of relief, knowing that you feel the same way.”

“Well, I still don’t think-- Wait… what did you--? You feel the same way?” MacCready’s eyes seemed to double in size as his brain processed Sole’s words. He broke into a toothy grin, completely ignoring his usual attempts at appearing emotionally detached, as Sole nibbled at her bottom lip and nodded to him.

Yet again, for the second time in the same damn conversation, MacCready was at a loss for words. Oh well, this tactic seemed to work okay the first time. He unfolded his arms, extending them outwards, intending to draw Sole closer to him, to bring her into another kiss--

“Come on, guys! You said you’d be right back, you’re taking forever.” Sole’s eyes fell to the short figure behind MacCready, noting that he wore the very same pout on his face that she had just seen on his father a few moments ago.

MacCready dropped his head back in a show of mock annoyance before turning to his son, “I know, buddy, I know. We’re coming right now.” He turned back to Sole with an apology shining in his deep blue eyes.

“It’s okay, we’ll finish this conversation later.” She moved to follow Duncan back to the house, bringing a hand to brush over MacCready’s shoulder as she pushed past him. He shuddered, his eyes staying trained on her form as he turned to watch her catch up with his son.

A breath caught in his throat as Duncan reached up to grab the very same hand that had just caused goosebumps to spread over MacCready's skin only a moment ago.

He exhaled, closing his eyes briefly in order to soak everything in. He was back with his son again, Duncan was healthy, the cruelty of the gunners were behind him, and so was the deep pain of his grief, for the most part, at least; and Sole cares for him… Something was bound to go wrong for him sooner or later, but for now… Now, MacCready was happier than he ever imagined he could be again.

Nick:

What was this? This lovely, blissful feeling? Nick only had memories to tell him what it was like to care for someone this much, in this way, but now…

He felt a distinct and unfamiliar warmness in his chest. Maybe it was some sort of short in his coolant pump, or maybe this is what it was like to be in love.

God, is it too early to say that? Perhaps he wouldn’t say it aloud quite yet, but he certainly felt like it was the truth, as he strolled around Diamond City, Sole’s warm, soft hand wrapped in his cold, synthetic one.

The pair had surely seen every building on the ground, and up in the stands at least twice now, and that was after they had spent three hours at dinner at the Dugout Inn. Nick couldn’t bear to let this night end. He even brought Sole up to the Mayor’s office after the sun had effectively set, and spent an hour pointing out the constellations they could see through the hazy glow of the city. Still, the light pollution now was nothing like it was back in the days when Boston was a bustling city.

As the evening chill set in, Nick wrapped his trench coat about his companion’s shoulders, and the pair walked close together, side-by-side as they strolled the streets, recalling pre-war memories and sentiments. They talked about everything from family life to some of the larger events that had happened back in the day, in the war, in the country and the city alike; to the different brands of breakfast cereal, the best coffee shops to go to, and the joys of a night “out on the town” when the world wasn’t quite so chaotic and violent.

No, Nick never wanted this night to end. But as the Great Green Jewel grew quieter and quieter and the two of them seemed to be the last figures roaming the dark, empty streets, he figured he should bring Sole home. There, he would watch her go safely inside, then turn and make the trek back to the agency. Thoughts of her would rattle around his mind as they always seemed to when he attempted to look over some case files, until the pair were reunited in the morning for their trip out into the Commonwealth, to track down that gilded grasshopper.

That was the plan, anyway.

However, when they reached the threshold of Sole’s front door to her Diamond City home, it seemed that she shared Nick's sentiments about the evening. Though she gave him back his coat, she stayed close to him as she struck up yet another conversation, prolonging their time together as she spoke softly to him under the dim street light. He loved the way that it highlighted every one of her perfect features, the way it brought out the vivid color in her eyes, the way it made her hair shine and her lips seem to glisten…

“Ah, well, doll. I think it’s about time you got some sleep. Big day tomorrow. Always is when we head out of the city. I’ll meet you right back here in the morning, alright?” In a sudden urge to thank her in some way for the blissful evening they had shared, Nick pulled her hand up to his lips, kissing the back of it softly. Sole smiled at him, blushing slightly as he released her hand from his grip, and turned around to head towards the agency.

“Wait.” He felt a hand on his shoulder. Nick turned back to face her, eyebrows raised in question.

“Nick… Kiss me?” She asked him softly, almost too quiet to hear.

The synth didn’t have lungs, but that didn’t stop him from drawing in a breath at the sound of her words. His eyes fell from their contact with hers, just for a moment to glance at her lips, almost in disbelief.

Nick took a step towards her, he raised his good hand once more, this time bringing it up to caress his companion’s face, running the pad of his thumb over her pink-dusted cheekbone, and he leaned in. He moved his hand to the side just in time for his lips to make contact with the spot his thumb had been, pausing briefly as his lips met her skin. Nick then made a move to pull away, but before his hand could even leave its place at Sole's jaw, he felt the grip on his shoulder tighten, preventing him from stepping back.

“No, Nick. Really kiss me.” His golden eyes searched Sole’s for any sign of humor, of doubt, of uncertainty, or fear, anything that might give away Sole’s true feelings regarding him. But he found nothing that he was worried he would see. There was a pure earnestness in her expression, a truth shining in her eyes, a desperation in the grip of her hand on his shoulder. She really wanted this, it seems. But how?

“Doll, I--”

“Please.” Nick wasn’t sure if she had even said it aloud, his eyes were locked in her gaze, not trained on her lips. But the word was there, in the look on her face, in her touch, and how could he deny her when she was asking so sweetly, and with such certainty? Especially when he had admitted to himself earlier that night that he was in love with her?

Nick leaned forward again, using the hand on Sole’s jaw to guide her lips to his. Not that he needed to. As she saw his movement, she leaned into him, and the pair’s lips met halfway. To Nick’s surprise, he found he couldn’t just stop with the chaste peck that he had planned to give her. Something small that she could easily pull away from, if she so chose. No, he couldn’t let his lips just barely graze hers as he thought he might. Instead, Nick pushed himself into her further, the whirring sound in his head growing louder as he felt Sole return the pressure.

Nick’s good hand caressed Sole’s face as she twisted her head to deepen their kiss, and his skeletal hand, seemingly of its own accord, moved upwards to rest lightly on his companion’s waist.

A dull burning sensation erupted from the contact as Nick began to move his mouth against Sole's, kneading slightly as he tried to communicate his contentment to her, hoping that his synthetic lips wouldn't feel too rough against her own. He felt Sole's grip on his shoulder move upwards to grasp at the collar of his shirt, and decided that she too, was satisfied with their contact so far.

He was lost, in the way he sometimes became lost in Nick's old memories. The good ones. Where his reality was altered, time seemed to slow to allow for the cacophony of emotions and sensations to flow through his body and mind in a way he never thought they could on a real scale. But he'd been wrong. It was happening now, as he kissed Sole. As he kissed someone that he was in love with, that he, Nick, this Nick, who was here now, was in love with. There was simply nothing to compare it to. Just like the whole night, he never wanted it to end. Sole was too perfect. Perfect for him. She was considerate, and soft, gentle, and fiery, wildly intelligent, and too compassionate for her own good. And she wanted him to kiss her. Where had she been all his life? How long had she spent frozen and alone in that underground hell, while he was up here longing for something, or someone to make him feel as valid, as alive as he did now?

The time they spent pressed to each other was completely unknown to the synth, but he figured at some point, Sole may need to properly breathe; and so, he pulled away. Reluctantly. Keeping his hands on her as he watched her eyelashes flutter open to reveal her glazed-over eyes. Where her face had sported a pinkish hue when he kissed her cheek, now it was a brilliant, bright crimson. Nick threw her his signature half-smile, and his own glowing eyes softened at the tender look she was giving him, despite her clear emotional frizz.

“So, uh, that what you wanted, sweetheart?” He asked a little nervously. Just because he had enjoyed himself so immensely didn't mean she was in the same state of bliss, and he couldn't shake the feeling that, at any moment, Sole might realize that she deserved more than a rusty, old synth like him.

“Yeah, definitely. It’s about damn time we did that.” Nick's nerves seemed to calm at that, and he chuckled softly as she nodded to him, apparently still a little dazed by their kiss, even though she had been the one to suggest it.

“Ahem, I agree. That was, quite the suggestion you made, there.” he said, at last pulling his hands from her, and straightening his coat. “Well then, I’ll see you here in the morning, right?” Sole only bit her lip in response, her eyes searching the air beside the detective for the proper thing to say.

“You... don’t think I should invite you in?” Nick nearly choked at her words, and he felt his mouth desperately trying to formulate an answer to her question. Though he knew it was impossible, Nick imagined this was as close as he'd ever been to blushing.

“Uh, don’t think I don’t want to, doll, but... I think this was more than enough excitement for the, what was it, fifth date? I just don't wanna rush anything and risk making you feel uncomfortable.”

“Oh, Nick." Sole rolled her eyes at him good-naturedly, "You are old-fashioned.”

X6-88:

X6 was overwhelmed. He had never once considered this turn of events. Not. Once. He is the courser, he is the protector, the defender, the logical, responsible, infallible machine who was meant for one purpose. To follow orders. To complete his mission efficiently, surely, and completely. Never did he consider failure. He couldn’t. It was impossible for him to fail, and if he did, he wasn’t meant to come back from it.

But Sole had allowed him to.

He didn’t remember much about the super mutant attack, only that he was horribly and inexcusably unprepared for it. But he could never forget the way Sole had stormed into the building to save him.

Super mutants are large, and their strength is unsurpassable, even for someone X6’s size. But they are usually slower than him, and quite certainly much, much less intelligent. That didn’t stop them from ambushing him this time, though. X6 mentally berated himself for letting his guard down. It was uncharacteristically sloppy. It was an obvious mistake, and he should have paid for it with his life. He certainly shouldn’t have allowed Sole to risk theirs to save him. But what could he have done? He remembered being pinned down, sledge hammers threatening to fall onto him, breaking every bone, pulverizing his flesh, muscles, and organs, pounding in his synthetic skull until his brain was nothing but mush. But with him so low to the ground, Sole had had a clear line of fire. It hadn’t stopped all of them, but it had provided enough of a distraction to keep the monsters from brutally destroying his body beyond repair.

Now, X6 was confused. No one had ever stuck up for him, defended him, or put themselves in harm’s way for him. He didn’t expect them to. He is replaceable. Humans are not. Especially humans like Sole…

X6 wished she was here now, but he was alone in the medical wing of the Institute. Even the doctor was gone. A gen 1 synth was mopping on the other side of the room, but the unit paid him no mind.

This is strange. He thought. Usually when a courser was injured, even if it wasn’t anything to do with their head, they were brought to robotics, repaired, and then sent to the SRB for a checkup and a full reset. If a courser was able to be injured to such an extent as X6 was now, something must be wrong with them, there must be a fault in their programming. At least, that’s been the thought ever since Ayo was put in charge. Sole must’ve said something. Pulled some strings, in order for me to be here. In order for me to remember.

X6 looked over to the clock on the doctor’s desk, and noted that it was 3am. Sole is sleeping, I should leave her be. Speaking to her isn’t worth interrupting her rest. He was just glad she wasn’t in the bed beside him. If she had been injured trying to aid him, he would’ve asked for the mind wipe himself. That kind of failure could not be overlooked.

X6 swung his legs over the side of the bed. I should let her sleep. He thought as he stood up, and he grimaced at the pain in his right leg and spine. She won’t be happy that I’m not resting as well. He took a step and a deep breath. If anyone sees me, they’ll order me to come back here anyway. X6 slowly made his way to the staircase, and began to limp up each step. They could even send me to the SRB to get the mind wipe after all. Sole’s not here to stop them this time. He was biting back grunts of effort as he reached the residential floor. Where he’d find Sole. I should turn around now.

X6 paused. He heard voices coming from the other side of the hall. Dr. Ayo. He realized with a start.

X6 made a break for Sole’s room across the way, hoping he could get there before the SRB director caught him. The voices grew stronger as the door to Sole’s room slid open and X6 stepped inside. When it closed again, he stood still, waiting for the voices to pass down the hallway.

“... don’t care how it’s always been, doctor. Why do you think Shaun chose me to be the next director?"

Is that... Sole?

"Because he wanted things to remain the same? Don’t be ridiculous.”

“Ma’am, I assure you, I’m not." Even from this far away, X6 could hear the annoyance in Dr. Ayo's voice. This argument had likely been going on awhile.

"This is not something you can change. There’s a distinct reason we do this. We accept nothing but perfection from our coursers. Anything else is a danger to us, if we--”

“Is that so? That seems like a pretty significant flaw. If your coursers, which are made by humans, which, you know, tend to make mistakes every once in awhile, make a mistake themselves, even though they are designed to be nearly identical to humans in every way, they are the ones who are punished? That seems fair.”

“That is your problem, ma’am. Respectfully, you should not view synths, especially coursers as identical to humans. They are not us. They are not being ‘punished’ when we wipe their minds. You occasionally delete files off of your terminal, correct? That does not mean you are ‘punishing’ it, no, you are cleaning it. Organizing, and resetting it, even. That’s what we’re doing here.”

“X6 isn’t a fucking terminal, Ayo. He breathes, and feels, and exists as a living being with organic tissue and a beating heart, a working brain. If he dies, I can’t just plug him into a power source and turn him back on, expecting all the same data to be there when I do. When he’s gone, he’s gone. And maybe you don’t care about that. But I do." X6 tensed as he pressed his ear into the door, straining to catch every word that left Sole's mouth. His brows furrowed in disbelief at her defense of him, and he felt a pressure mounting in his chest that he had never before experienced.

"You haven’t spent time with him like I have." She continued, "He’s not just a machine. He’s my friend, my partner, and I owe him my life ten times over. He’s incredible, he’s direct, and intelligent, and funny as hell, and I care about him. And if you even think of wiping his wonderful mind, I’ll transport you to the surface, right in the middle of that super mutant horde where X6 found himself, and you can see how perfect you are in his position. Goodnight, doctor.”

X6 was still standing in Sole's room as the argument outside concluded, and his mouth was hanging open in sheer bewilderment. Any moment, she could walk in and see him like this. Dumbfounded and silly-looking, with his ear pressed flush to the door and his jaw nearly on the floor.

He didn’t want that.

He pulled his head back, and the door slid open in response to his movement. X6 peeked his head out, but when he looked down the hall, no one was there. His brows scrunched. Where could Sole be going at this hour, if not back to her quarters? X6 crossed the threshold into the hallway and walked tentatively forward. As his eyes fell to the staircase, he noticed the top of Sole’s head disappearing below. He stopped, squinting his eyes. If she was going anywhere at all, he would’ve expected it to be to Father’s quarters. Nonetheless, X6 began his pursuit of her down the stairs, trying to hold back his grunts of pain, in case Ayo was still in his immediate vicinity.

When he reached the ground floor, Sole was walking back towards him at a brisk pace, her eyes were wide and she looked like she was about to break into a run. When she caught his eye, she halted in her tracks.

“Ma’am, I--” He started, but before he could finish his sentence, she was running towards him, crashing her body into his and wrapping her arms around him tightly. X6 stood straight as a board, mouth still open and arms down at his sides as he sucked in a deep breath at her all-encompassing contact with him.

“Jesus, X6, you scared the shit out of me. Where were you?” She pulled back slightly, but kept her hands on his shoulders as he blinked back at her.

It was uncanny. No words of explanation came to mind as his silver eyes melded to hers. His mind was so blank, the doctors may as well have wiped it.

But as he stared blankly down at her, X6 became distracted by something small, and bright. A sharp light reflecting off of Sole’s bottom lip. His gaze flashed down to look at it, and his head seemed to tilt almost instinctively as he inspected the glisten that had caught his attention. As he leaned in closer, his body followed, pushing forward, even nearer to the woman pressed up against him. Sole gasped slightly as she noticed X6's movement, and the courser was effectively pulled from his temporary haze.

What… What am I doing?

X6 halted his surprising action, turning his eyes back up to meet Sole’s.

“Ahem. Forgive me, ma'am.” He whispered so quietly, he wasn’t even sure she caught the apology.

“I heard what you said." He tried to continue with an explanation, hoping to distract her from whatever the hell it was that had almost just happened.

"To doctor Ayo. I heard everything. And it…”

It what?

What the hell was he supposed to say about it? He didn’t even know how he felt about what she had said, he hadn’t had time to process it yet, how could he articulate to her how it made him feel when he couldn’t even begin to understand that for himself? The way she was looking at him though… It was as though she hadn’t even heard the first half of what he said anyway, so did he really have to continue if that was the case?

Sole didn’t give him the opportunity. Again, before the courser could quite process what was happening, in a swift flash, he felt something press against him, into him.

She was warm, and soft, and slightly wet. He could feel the way her nose pressed a divot into his cheek, the way her fingers twined together around the back of his neck, slightly brushing his hairline, and he could see-- No, he couldn’t see. He’d closed his eyes, and his hands were no longer hanging at his sides. Now they were on her. He’d never had his hands on her before, he’d hardly ever even touched her, and now here they were; Sole's chest pressed against his, her arms around his neck, his hands grasping at her waist, pulling her closer, and their mouths... they were sealed together like an air-tight lock.

The ache in his leg, in his back, in his side, and his head, they were gone. X6's entire body felt fuzzy, the only feeling he could comprehend was his pounding heart, and where her skin made contact with his. It felt like it was on fire, and he had to remind himself to breathe through his nose so he wouldn't feel so light-headed.

His heart leapt up to his throat as she pulled away, but to his relief, she came right back to him, renewing her vigor once she felt his reluctance to separate from her. Sole had always been very observant of her companion, and now was no exception. She wouldn’t pull away until she felt he was ready.

As X6 thought about how he’d never felt so strongly about anyone, or anything, as he did about Sole, now. As he did about her hands grazing the back of his neck, and her lips on his, her trust in him not to pull away or to scoff, and her acceptance of him in, not just what, but who he was. X6 wondered if he ever truly would be ready to pull away from her.

Once a courser’s mind was set on something, there was no debate, no changing it. And right now, and as far as he could think into the future, he knew his mind was set on Sole.

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siribear · 4 years

Text

dear claire,

she stares at the handwriting she’s become familiar with, with a particular scrutiny. his letter is much too soon. normally, they’d come after a few weeks. maybe a month, if his regiment was on the move. but she just sent off own letter the other day. no way he’s gotten it so soon. and yet.

i know this letter is early. no kidding. but i couldn’t wait for yours to arrive. you’ll have to forgive me for putting this in writing.

claire brushes a stray strand of hair behind her ear and forces herself to sit still in her chair. her roommate is already squirming in her own seat, waiting for her reaction.

if i know you, you’re waiting for me to get to the point. but first, tell rachel i said hello. she does, and her roommate’s smile only grows wider. so, whatever this is, she’s in on it. i’m coming home soon. within the month. but that’s not why i’m writing. claire only realizes she’s biting her nails when she begins to taste nail polish. claire, i want to start a family. with you. i know this is sudden. but i wanted to give you some time to consider. i’ll - and here the handwriting shifts. still his, but rougher. - understand if you say no.

i can’t wait to see you. i love you.

nathaniel ward.

she reads it. and reads it again. and once more, before she shoots up from her seat, letter still in her hand, eyes boring into the paper.

‘so?’ rachel asks, sing-song.

‘rachel, find my stationary, please,’ claire responds, eyes not leaving the letter. rachel bolts from her chair and runs into their room. she returns carrying a piece of paper and pen.

claire sits, turns back to their kitchen table. a family.

dear nate, she writes.

start thinking up names.

i love you.

claire (soon-to-be) ward.

‘that vault up there has quite the interesting history,’ deacon says, after they’ve had their breakfast in her kitchen.

whisper blinks at him from across the kitchen table. ‘and what’s that?’

he leans forward, elbows on the table like her mother hated. ‘never been opened. everyone knows about the other vaults in the commonwealth, but 111?’ he clicks his tongue. ‘nothing.’

she frowns. ‘you want to go vault diving?’

‘i would, but it’s locked up. no one’s ever been able to get in, either.’

she shrugs. ‘as long as monsters don’t come out of it, it doesn’t matter to me. wonder what’s down there, though.’ she avoids his gaze, looking down at her pipboy, pretending to double-triple check their next destination.

deacon chuckles. ‘yeah, i wonder.’

preston approaches them before they leave, giving deacon a casual nod. ‘if i could talk to the general for a moment, uh, dingo?’ whisper nods, and deacon strolls over to dogmeat to play fetch, pretending he’s not going to be listening to their conversation anyway.

‘is everything okay, preston?’ she asks with a hand on her hip. she knows she’s been gone longer than she’s been here, leaving preston in charge of sanctuary and the budding minutemen. but he’s built them up well. even a few of the newer faces are dressed uniformly, carrying their own laser muskets.

he tears his gaze away from dogmeat bowling into deacon. ‘more than fine, general. in fact, with the other settlements you’ve established, we’re having trouble communicating with them all. it’s a good problem to have,’ he assures her. ‘the only way we can get further word out right now is from carla; she’s the only caravan that’s come this far up north. otherwise, i’ve sent out one of our newer scouts, but it’s not ideal.’

‘so we need a way to communicate more easily. like - another radio station? broadcast updates on each settlement so we know if anyone needs help or extra supplies.’ she looks up at him and his bright eyes. ‘you have a plan.’

‘i do.’ he practically vibrates with an excitement she never saw in him, weeks ago. at least, not before she agreed to help him. he’s a far cry from when they first met. ‘the minutemen used to have another headquarters, far out east. before the war, it was called fort independence. but we knew it as the castle.’

she has a vague image in her head of fort independence. too much information crammed into her head in college now useless and discarded. that, and she and nate hardly traveled far from boston’s city limits. ‘used to. what happened to it?’

he grimaces. ‘they say a monster from the sea breached the walls. all anyone knows is, most of the minutemen leadership died.’ he drops his gaze, voice going thoughtful. ‘i think that’s where all of our problems began.’

‘a... sea monster?’

‘uh, yes. but i think if we retake the castle and reestablish radio freedom, we stand a better chance of keeping our allies, and the greater commonwealth, safe.’

she blinks. ‘a sea monster,’ she repeats. ‘okay. that sounds reasonable - ’

he steps closer. ‘should i have a group meet us outside the castle?’

‘ - but i think we’ll have to table it, for now.’ she watches his enthusiasm fade. ‘preston, it’s a great idea, don’t get me wrong. but if there is some... giant sea monster, it doesn’t do the minutemen any good if both of us die taking back the place. train up a few more people. i’m going to clear out sunshine tidings co-op, make a few more... stops.’ she chances a gaze at deacon, sitting on the side of the road rubbing dogmeat’s belly. ‘and we’ll come back to this, okay?’

he salutes her. ‘yes, ma’am.’

whisper frowns. ‘hey.’ she gently lowers his hand from the salute. ‘i’m sorry i haven’t been around. but you and the others are doing a wonderful job here. we’ll take the castle, i just have a few loose ends to tie up before i throw myself at a sea monster.’

preston squeezes her hand. ‘yes, ma’am,’ he says again, softer.

she withdraws, slowly. ‘i should go get de-dingo. he gets restless.’ she turns to see deacon tying what looks like a third bandanna around dogmeat’s neck, to complement the small pair of welder’s goggles upon his head. preston keeps his eyes on her. ‘i’ll try to be back soon.’

he steps away. ‘stay safe, general.’

‘what do you know about the castle?’ whisper asks deacon along the way to the co-op.

‘a lot of your people - minutemen,’ he clarifies, ‘died there. it’s a mirelurk nesting ground now.’

she hums. ‘those would be the sea monsters preston mentioned, then.’ she rubs at her eyes. ‘great.’

they cross a bridge over to the co-op, weaving around abandoned cars. he helps her over a barricade as the first set of buildings looms over the hill. a short gravel path leads them up a hill into the co-op proper. wind blows heavily through the co-op, kicking up dirt from the expansive planting grounds that surround a large barn.

the puttering sound of an approaching mister handy prompts them to draw their weapons. the robot stops in front of them, seems to look them over, then, in a rough voice, says, ‘groovy,’ long, drawn-out, and airy, and floats away.

whisper lowers her gun. ‘deacon, what just happened?’

‘you take me to the best places, partner,’ he says, grinning.

in the barn, she accesses the logs on a dusty computer. ‘oh wow,’ she whispers. then laughs. ‘this was a hippie commune, pre-war. they... stole and reprogrammed a mister handy. they, uh, named him professor goodfeels. i guess that’s where the graffiti comes from.’ she waves a hand toward the wall and the painted free the robots on a piece of plywood. she turns to deacon. ‘origins of the railroad?’

she imagines he rolls his eyes at her. ‘funny. this place is... mostly quiet. wonder why no one’s picked this place back up since.’

‘you’re the intel guy.’ she pulls herself away from the terminal. ‘shall we see why?’

they see why. beginning at the first house, they explore counter-clockwise around the co-op, clearing out the feral ghouls sleeping in the buildings. in a far building, up another hill, they find the first body that isn’t a skeleton. someone else apparently had the same idea as the minutemen, but didn’t survive the ferals. the mess hall completes their circle in addition to housing another group of ferals, easily sniped through the broken windows. radio beacon up, whisper returns to the terminal.

‘what to do with the professor?’ there’s a few options listed on the terminal: return for repairs, guard protocols, and... just be.

‘i say leave him. if anything, he’s good for a laugh.’ on cue, professor goodfeels floats by with a slurred whoa man.

whisper sighs. ‘people are going to think we’re crazy.’

‘maybe that’s my plan. discredit the minutemen with beatnik mister handys.’

deacon suggests they head back to hq to see if there’s anything else that needs doing. now that the railroad has another heavy, it’s only fair they take on another job so glory can have a day off. besides, she can check in at goodneighbor along the way, see if hancock has found anything on kellogg. they head west across the commonwealth, traveling north of boston and weaving south of lexington. deacon draws her into the shadows near the corvega factory, and they pass by without incident.

that is, until the sound of gunfire brings them to the outskirts of the town. curious, whisper grabs deacon by the wrist and pulls him against the side of a building. ‘sure you want to do this?’ he asks over her shoulder. ‘looks like gunners got someone pinned down there.’

she peeks around the corner. ‘close to bunker hill, aren’t they? maybe it’s a caravan in danger.’

‘not the gunner MO, partner. behind that car.’ he points, and she sees it, a head poking out behind a rusted bumper.

whisper squints. ‘hang on. that’s - that’s maccready.’

‘the merc that hangs around goodneighbor? what’d he do to the gunners?’

‘doesn’t matter.’ she crouches, edges around the building to get closer to the gunners. a bullet whizzes past her, flying off down the road. too close. ‘deacon.’

she feels, doesn’t see, deacon’s rifle lower next to her. ‘one on the right is mine.’

whisper aims deliverer at the left gunner. near the hip, just below the plating of his combat armor. the gunners don’t notice them, too busy aiming at maccready. she counts down from three. in sync, they fire. deacon’s gunner goes down in a shower of red, head missing. hers shouts, drops his gun, and grabs at the hole in his hip. the third gunner only has a chance to look at his comrade before deacon finishes him off. her gunner falls to his knees. she finishes him off with one more quick shot.

‘you good?’ she nods, rising. he puts a hand on her shoulder, stilling her. ‘don’t be so quick to rise above cover, there. never know if there are more. or a sniper.’

she remains in her crouch, at that, his hand still on her shoulder. one moment passes. another. then, ‘boss? did i hit you?’ maccready yells, his voice growing closer. deacon releases her then, using the same hand to help her up.

‘i’m okay, maccready.’ she gestures at the dead gunners behind him. ‘this have anything to do with those two at the third rail?’

‘winlock and barnes? yeah, guess someone saw me picking around the commonwealth.’ he sighs. ‘gunners don’t like it when their people leave and start taking jobs away from them.’

‘huh,’ she says. ‘so they’re going to hound you until... what? they bring you back in?’

maccready laughs, bitter. ‘i doubt that. they’ll kill me and be done with it. i hoped to buy them out before that. get them off my back.’

‘good luck with that,’ deacon pipes up.

‘what can i do?’ she asks him.

his eyes widen in surprise. ‘what?’

‘i’m offering to help you, maccready. you already have most of my caps, though. what else can we do?’

‘i know where they’re stationed,’ he says quickly, as if she’s going to take it back. he looks between her and deacon. ‘mass pike interchange. there’s a lift up to the interchange, that’s where they’re stationed.’

‘what kind of resistance are we looking at, maccready?’ deacon eyes him.

maccready winces. ‘a dozen or more gunners, plus defensive turrets. barnes usually wears a suit of power armor.’ he pauses. ‘and an assaultron.’

‘jesus,’ deacon curses under his breath. ‘you really want to do this?’

whisper shrugs. ‘he’s in danger unless we do. i’m sorry, i know you said - ’

‘glory hates days off anyway,’ he finishes. ‘any plans?’

‘we’re three snipers,’ she says. ‘and maccready knows the layout. we hit them before they can hit us.’

#siri drabbles #oc: alice ward #series: we will all go together when we go #hey maccready is back

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itsworn · 6 years

Text

Watch As We Rescue & Revive a Nearly New 1969 Ford Ranchero GT After 29 Years of Storage

The subject of storage is a deep one, indeed. Here at the family compound you might see muscular classics out to pasture. Let’s call those cars “pasturized.” Over yonder is a weathered old barn. Its roof went away years ago, so the barn cars all have “barnacles.” Around here, premium indoor storage involves shipping containers. Sure, they’re hot ’n’ cold with the seasons, but a tight container can be fairly safely used as a portable garage. A not-so-tight container, however, can become the tomb of doom.

Long, long ago, back in 1969, Uncle Gary Bauman drove a new 1969 Ranchero GT off the showroom floor of Riverside, California’s Warren Anderson Ford. It was pretty much loaded. A 390, a four-barrel, a floor-shifted C6, and bucket seats to boot. As his company vehicle, the shiny new Ranchero propelled Uncle Gary to and from work at the old family business, Bauman’s Auto Wrecking. It was never used for parts deliveries. Nobody else ever drove it, and I’m pretty sure it never hauled anything in its bed. Now, it’s been a long time, but I’m rather proud to possess a 20/20 long-term memory. Amongst other details, the one I recall most vividly is the Ranchero’s new-car smell.

We are all familiar with the story of the one that got away. This will not be a rehashed version of that. Uncle Gary still has the low-mileage 1969 Ranchero GT. It hasn’t felt the sunshine in many, many years. In fact, it’s been stored away in one of those shipping containers. Knowing its secret whereabouts, and knowing Uncle Gary wouldn’t mind, I sort of got to thinking that you readers might enjoy a peek inside that container. Little did I know that slippin’ in for pictures would lead to a grisly discovery.

Out of sight and out of mind, the near-new/old Ranchero had languished in that old shipping container long enough that the container had settled into the ground. One door would still open, just enough to allow someone of average build like me to slip inside. Through the dank darkness it sort of looked as though both left tires had deflated, causing the left-rear bumper corner to contact the container wall. Although I couldn’t clearly see the Ranchero, I could clearly smell it. The stench of mildew had replaced the new-car smell I remembered from childhood.

Clues at this crime scene suggest that the container’s roof sprung a leak. Sadly, that leak went undetected for years. Cold winter rain came in. Hot summer sun came out—and the container’s precious contents sustained a series of summer-long steam baths. We can be certain that condition has taken a toll on Uncle Gary’s Ranchero. We won’t know the extent of the damage until we get it out. We won’t get it out until we get the container doors opened. And we won’t get the container doors opened without a lift from a friend with a heavy-duty hydraulic wrecker.

We will have to work for this, but we will get the Ranchero out into the sunlight for a better look. No doubt it will need a complete, professional detail job, but its mechanical needs might be tougher to assess. Pending Uncle Gary’s approval, I’ll personally see this rescue through—with a little help, as needed, from friends.

For the first phase of the job at hand, let’s begin with a mechanical evaluation by “Guardrail” Willie Martin, third-generation owner/operator of Riverside, California’s Ed Martin Garage. Following Martin’s inspection, shop manager/parts guru Mike Ferguson will provide us with an estimate. Then, providing it’s practical, let’s get this Ranchero Rescue mission underway.

1 Welcome one and all to container No. 2. These doors have been locked long enough that we don’t even remember which key opens them. That’s OK; these older locks ain’t too particular. In such situations, a worn-thin key is quite dependable.

2 Suddenly, this sight for sore eyes puts a hurt on our noses. Worse than any locker room, this much mildew stinks. Before we go any further, let’s do what’s necessary to get this container aired out.

3 Over the years the container settled to the point where the doors no longer open. Fortunately, my friend, Gary “Wiz-Bang” Estee, is a heavy-duty towing and recovery professional. With a big hydraulic wrecker, raising this container is a breeze.

4 As luck would have it, the two flat tires are up against the wall. This makes valve stem access inconvenient, but my flexible friend, Pelon Sanuntillanes, doesn’t seem to mind. Here toward the rear we get our first glimpse of expired tags: December 1989!

5 Compressed air in the new/old tires gives us a little clearance so we can see more of the Ranchero’s left side. Here we believe we have located the leak. Sure enough, it’s in the roof, right above the left fender.

6 An initial check under the hood reveals a bone-stock 390. Further visual inspection reveals a coating of corrosion over pretty much everything.

7 Much to my dismay, the new-car smell of my childhood no longer lingers. Let’s just hold our noses as we slide inside the moistly mildewed interior. Here behind the wheel, the odometer speaks the truth: only 12,155 miles!

8 Quite fortunately, the interior mildew had not yet crept into the center console. In the mix with other factory documents, the owner’s manual and warranty cards are present and in mint condition.

9 Through years of steamy storage the park brake was not set. Even so, the rear brake shoes have corroded to the drums. The Ranchero will not roll, so Estee has returned to winch it out with a rollback. Now we can see the only nonstock modification: circa 1969 American Torq-Thrust originals with late-1980s Goodyear Eagle ST radials.

10 Freshly offloaded from the bed of Estee’s rollback, Uncle Gary’s Ranchero assumes a position on a lift at Ed Martin Garage. After 29 years of improper storage, we are expecting the fuel system, cooling system, and brakes to require attention.

11 During Martin’s evaluation we see things we don’t often see, still in place on a 49-year-old Ford. For example, this air filter element is Motorcraft original equipment. Just below, an original Motorcraft four-barrel carburetor is all lacquered up. It’s so bad, its butterflies won’t budge.

12 In the usual places, Martin begins looking for clues. Here the fuel cap and radiator cap each have stories to tell. That crusty crud confirms our suspicions—there’s trouble in the tanks.

13 The condition of this heater-control valve suggests that the Ranchero was parked without Prestone. The heater core could be all plugged up to match. If so, there will be much disassembly required for access.

14 The poor old Ranchero is stiff. Wheels won’t turn, butterflies won’t budge, and things we’ve seen are not encouraging. At this point, before looking further, Martin goes for his ratchet. The engine still turns! After a full revolution, we are optimistic again.

15 Even under the distributor cap, steam has made a mess. Surprisingly, the vacuum advance has passed a bench test. Here a lap around the solvent tank may reveal more ugliness.

16 See the heavy pitting on the distributor cam? New points won’t last long. Those pits will grind a new rubbing block away quickly. For that, Martin recommends a cleverly concealable PerTronix box.

17 According to a paper Pennzoil sticker in the left doorjamb, Uncle Gary’s Ranchero was last serviced on February 7, 1989, right here at Ed Martin Garage. Yes, it’s been here before. Last time, quite coincidentally, was after long-term storage as well.

18 With a new filter in place and fresh oil added, it’s prime time. With a pneumatic drill, Martin spins the oil pump at a fairly high speed as yours truly monitors instrumentation inside. We have pressure!

19 Just wanting to hear the engine run, we have filled the float bowl through the vent with fresh gasoline. At this stage the carburetor’s butterflies are still solidly stuck, but the engine has fired and idled quietly. What we see here on the floor is fresh from the tailpipe.

20 Pleased with what he’s heard, Martin begins to overhaul the carburetor. A couple screws have broken, and the accelerator pump refuses to let go. Notice the dark goo in the bottom of the bowl. A dunk in the shop’s ultrasonic cleaner, followed by pressure washing, will remedy that.

21 Here on a different bench we have a two-piece fuel filler neck. The rubber joint has been discarded. It will be replaced. Although these two parts are clearly cruddy, a lap around the bead-blasting cabinet will clean ’em up like new.

22 The fuel tank’s condition, however, is the worst we’ve ever seen at Ed Martin Garage. Pretty obviously, the poor Ranchero was parked with a full tank of high-test. The questionable tank will be sent to a nearby radiator shop. With a little luck it might actually survive.

23 Perhaps if it weren’t so stinky, this sending unit might make a nice souvenir. We just don’t see them like this every day.

24 Earlier, from the appearance of the heater control valve, we had determined that the Ranchero was parked without Prestone. Let this thermostat housing support the initial observation.

25 Toward the end of a very long haul, this low-mileage 390 is running really good, but as Murphy’s Law would have it, something is wrong. The heater core is leaking warm green coolant. It needs to come out. Access will not be easy, so this is a setback.

26 Following a good deal of disassembly, we have accessed the problem. The heater core on the left is the original. The one on the right is N.O.S. Even though it’s new, testing revealed leaks, so it has been to the radiator shop for repairs.

27 After reassembly, the coolant leak is history. Now perhaps we should think about settling up. While these four pages of receipts add up to something, the money is well spent on a vehicle worth saving. Once we have obtained insurance and current registration, it will be time for a test drive.

About That Test Drive Have you ever driven a brand-new, 390-powered 1969 Ranchero GT? Neither had I until just lately. For me, there’s a gooey, squishy, rather emotional feelin’ that goes with the experience. Hey, it’s my favorite uncle’s ride, and after 29 years in storage, I am the first to drive it. Thanks to Ed Martin Garage, it’s running great and stopping straight. Even though it feels quite powerful, I’m driving like a granny because two of the late-1980s Goodyear Eagle ST radials sat flat so long that the thumping won’t subside. Before rolling down the highway I’ll gingerly putt down the street to see my tire guy, Dave, at Kuma Tire ’n’ Wheel.

Our final stop will be the detail shop. We have made an appointment with Ricky Pope of Soft Touch Auto Detailing. In Part 2 we will tend to cosmetics. Again with a little help from friends, and still more help from friends at Mothers, we’ll have Uncle Gary’s near-new/old Ranchero back in showroom shape—for auction, or for keeps.

The post Watch As We Rescue & Revive a Nearly New 1969 Ford Ranchero GT After 29 Years of Storage appeared first on Hot Rod Network.

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