Chapter Text
The ‘Wealth didn’t leave much to be desired in terms of room and board. So to find an empty room with not one but two mattresses was one of those finds that were greater than any supposed treasure in Jamaica Plains. And with the room several stories up, down a narrow hallway and boarded windows, there was nothing to fear from snipers or the occasional mirelurk figuring out how stairs worked.
In MacCready’s experience, however, things were never as they appeared. There was always a catch. And this? This was too good.
But just as he was about to point that out, Nate intercepted him. “Not a trap,” he said just as MacCready muttered, “This is so a trap.”
MacCready’s mouth clicked shut, eyeballing the boss. Nate grinned, before jerking his thumb at the dog.
“It can’t be. Dogmeat would have found something by now,” he said before turning to said dog, voice lifting as it always did when he spoke to him. “Wouldn’t you have, boy?”
The German Shepherd, already stretching out on one of the mattresses, perked up at his name. He woofed almost encouragingly, tongue lolling out and Nate grinned. “See?”
MacCready’s nose wrinkled. It was a dog. A dog. A dog who licked his own balls and marked every fire hydrant from Diamond City to Goodneighbor. Who tended to bark and alert enemies before MacCready had found a good position to snipe from. Who also tended to throw himself into danger with the same recklessness that his master did. “We’re trusting the mutt now?” he asked.
“Dogmeat has never steered me wrong,” Nate said, stepping forward to ruffle the top of the dog’s head. “Have you, boy? Have you? Huh? No, you haven’t.”
Dogmeat huffed excitedly and then rolled over to present his belly. Nate cooed while reaching over to scratch it, and MacCready rolled his eyes. Depending on the dog was one thing; watching a grown-ass man shower the dog with affection was a little more than he could handle.
“Well, you trust the dog. I’m going to go check for traps.”
As he headed off to check the perimeter, he heard Nate coo again and then say, “Don’t worry, boy, you’ll win him over one day.”
Dogmeat woofed in reply.