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MacCready is enjoying left over noodles from Diamond City when it happens. Or, trying to enjoy, but Dogmeat and Marcy, the Junkyard Dog, are both relentless with their pitiful puppy eyes begging for just one slurp of food.
“No” he laughs, turning his shoulder to the dogs, stuffing his mouth with a rusty fork of noodles. Dogmeat, the dirty cheat, whines and paws at the box MacCready is sitting on, batting the ground with his tail and kicking up dust.
“Stop that”
“Just give the dogs a bite, MacCready” Piper chides in passing, pen in her mouth, editing some article for her paper.
“Nuh-uh” MacCready tuts, turning further away from the dogs “First its one bite, then another, and before you know it your foods all gone!”
“If you call that food, sure” The enigmatic journalist smirks wryly, eyes crinkling when he turns his glare at her. Her eyes flicker away before he can reply, and she clears her throat “Oh, your boyfriend's coming, look sharp.”
On cue, a shadow crosses his feet and he twists back around, telling the tightening in his chest to calm the f—heck down, its only been two weeks since seeing Zenith, not nearly the longest term without seeing that stupidly handsome face.
Except, there's a new irritated scar twisting through skin, and he can see the panic in Zenith's eyes when he realizes MacCready isn't going to kiss him hello. He's gripping his newsie in his hands, ringing the seam nervously and tripping over his tongue in an effort to beat MacCready to the punch.
“N-now, Babe, wait a sec-” then the noodles hit the floor, completely discarded as MacCready jumps to his feet, expression fierce, Zenith taking a giant step back into Curie who squeaks in surprise, sidestepping quickly “Monsieur!”
Zenith has a handsome face for sure, same as it was at the basics, full jaw, dark skin splashed with freckles across his bridge. Scars on his lower lip where they should be, and left brow ridge—except now its accompanied with a garish scar slicing down his forehead from the hairline and dipping into his eye socket.
Where no scar should be.
“Curie!” MacCready turns on her, face red, irrational thought coming up with all kinds of life-threatening scenarios that could've caused that scar.
“What the hell happened?!”
“Now don't blame her”
“Don't blame—and what the hell is this sh—crap?” Zenith squawks when MacCready grabs his shoulder and yanks him down, rubbing his shirt sleeve coarsely against the grease on his forehead.
“Thinkin' ya can hide it from me?”
“No! No I just—RJ it's fine” Zenith pushes him away, hand to his own head trying the quell the rug burn.
“Fine!? You look like you got axed!” MacCready snaps, and all of a sudden he goes pale, the sun on his cheek frighteningly cold.
“Please tell me it wasn't an axe. Dammit Z I keep telling you to watch your back you're gonna get killed-”
“It was a set of stairs!” Zenith hisses, cheeks turning red and MacCready's brain screeches to a halt.
He chokes on a laugh, pursing his lips tight to try and stop the giggle forcing its way up his throat.
“A... a set of... a set of stairs?” He always knew Zenith was clumsy but the image of him eating it on a staircase was just too much.
Zenith glares at him, grabbing his elbow to steer him away from the prying eyes of everyone in the settlement, hoisting him to the short drop of a cliff behind Croup manor. He let's go once he's sure no one can eavesdrop under the din of crashing waves, crossing his arms stubbornly over his chest and setting his jaw.
“Are you done?”
MacCready releases the treacherous laugh, hissing through his teeth as he doubles over, heaving for breath and laughing all over again. He shouldn't, he really shouldn't, but he's just so—so relieved.
“Dammit Z I really thought-” he stands up again, whipping the tears away from his eyes and sniffling, “I really thought it was some freak accident and you were between life and death.”
Zenith's expression softens until he gets just downright bashful, scratching at his jaw and looking away, “No it was... I tripped down some stairs while trying to sneak by some mutants.... knocked myself out”
MacCready wheezes trying to keep a straight face,
“next thing I knew Curie was standing over me just finishing with the stitches.” Zenith ends, thumbing at the now ruined seam of his newsie, shyly putting it back over his head and watching MacCready slowly come down from his laughing fit convulsing in his lungs.
“Oh my God” he finally breathes, gasping in sweet air and dropping a hand on his lover's shoulder, leaning heavily on him, “Oh my God” his voice breaks and he rests his head against Zenith's chest, shoulders shaking as the gentle laughter devolves into muffled sobs.
He shouldn't have overreacted, he shouldn't be breaking down like this but—but yesterday they were attacked by the brotherhood, and they nearly lost Hancock in the process. Before that the super mutants tried to take them, he heard that morbid beep beep beep of a suicider in his nightmares for days after that. Every other day he dreams of drowning, the other nights spent in restless wakefulness, unused to an empty bed and now—and now the final fucking cherry on top is Z being three days late to their rendezvous with a new scar that could've been from anything under the sun trying to kill him.
And it was a God damn set of stairs.
“Shh... shh, it's alright.” He comes back to himself with Zenith's gentle cooing in his ear, arms wrapped around him, fingers rubbing gentle circles into his back.
“I'm sorry, I'm here now, I should've had one of the traders bring word that I was delayed, I'm sorry, love, I'm sorry.”
“Damn right you should have”, MacCready's voice croaks wetly, breathing in deep to build himself back up and pull away, looking up at the man he's fallen so hopelessly in love with. Lucy was right, he's such a hopeless romantic.
Their reunion kiss is gentle, Zenith pressing eagerly against MacCready but still tender, his face hot under MacCready's thumbs, smoothing across cheekbones.
“M'sorry” Zenith murmurs against sun kissed skin, nuzzling his nose against MacCready's cheek to make him laugh, if just a little.
“What can I do to make it up to you?”
“Well...you do owe me one of Takahashi's noodle cups.” Zenith grins, all teeth, “Done, we'll head out tomorrow morning.”
“Though, in the mean time” MacCready begins, he still feels raw but he grabs Zenith by his hips, looping his thumbs in ratty belt loops, knowing Z is safe, in this moment, “you owe me some R&R”