Ad Victoriam ~ Elder Maxson x reader - Part 3

8 ~ Online

"For a serial killer-slash-psycho, this creep sure had a lot of comics."

"Really?" Uri folds her arms; watching as her exasperating companion riffles through a box of his favourite reading material. "I have a weird feeling those were for Shaun: call me crazy."

"Probably true - but I dunno," his eyes flash with amusement, "I can totally imagine him sat in that overcompensating arm chair with Grognak in hand."

"Wow-- I, uh, don't even want to go into that euphemism. Just put the comics away, alright? God knows I wanna be able to sleep at some point. There's a lot of shit to kick outta this place."

"Is squatting in the guy you killed's abandoned house the best idea?" Mac looks doubtful as he raises to full height. "It's just - surely the guards are gonna notice there are-- mmph."

The vault dweller's lips are MacCready's favourite way to be silenced, he decides, as Uri drags him down into a searing kiss. It's safe to say - by the time they are done with one another - the house is messier than it was when they first arrived.

--

Uri's eyes are dry as she steps into the old shack; toying with the keys she had 'borrowed' from their hiding place in the bleachers below. It's as pristine as she had last seen it... her heart twinges uncomfortably as she questions whether Mac used this place after she left him.

"We looking for anything in specific?" asks Del.

"You're doing nothing," she mutters stiffly; not so much gracing him with a glance as she eyes the old stack of boxed-up comics. "I'll find it myself."

--

"Take care of MacCready for me. He's one of the good ones. "

Daisy had said this to Uri once they handed over Duncan's cure; eyes shining as she squeezed the vault-dweller's hand. She's not entirely sure why she can't get the statement out of her head - but it's stuck there all the same.

"Hey," the man himself breaks Uri away from her thoughts. They're sat on the couch in Kellogg's-turned-their home. The sniper hands her a lukewarm bottle of Gwinnett from the murderer's hefty stash, which she takes with thanks. "Can we talk?"

"Sure," Uri sends a reassuring smile his way, detecting the nerves he's carrying. Those impossibly blue eyes of his are full of gratitude.

"I-- uh, well I already said thanks for helping me get the cure, but I wanted to get you something - to repay my debts to you. So, I wanted you to have this."

Mac takes a moment to go through his battered duster's pocket and, when he's done, he holds out his palm. There sits a wooden toy soldier. Hand-crafted, by the look of it, and carrying an exact replica of his own beloved sniper rifle. Uri's eyes are wide with awe as she takes it; holding the figurine up in an attempt to make out the details better under the dingy lights.

"I know a carved toy soldier is a strange reward for risking your life, but this one's special... it means a lot to me."

Uri wants to say something, but her throat is thick with emotion. After waiting a minute, Mac continues.

"I, uh, got it from Lucy. She gave it to me right after we met... I told her I was a soldier, so she made it for me. Never could bring myself to tell her the truth; that I was just a hired killer."

"Hey," She shakes her head, "you're not 'just' anything, R.J MacCready." Uri places the toy soldier on the coffee table and takes his hand in hers, ignoring the uncomfortable tightness in her chest. "You don't have any debts with me, y'know? You've helped me in so many ways, I can't begin to thank you for it... You're a good man. I'm sure Lucy would'a known that even if you had told her the truth."