#Đ — 「 v. ad meliora ( danse ; fallout ) 」

[xmenageriie]

VALENTINE’S DAY APPLICATION - Danse

[Written as if they’re in Vegas still/have reached Vegas~]

Name: Marianne McConnell

Age: 33

Do you like to cuddle?: “Mo ghrá, you should know by now that I cuddle any chance I get.”

Can we make-out?: Marianne’s just put a bunch of 💋💋💋💋💋 all over the paper

A night in or dinner out?: “Dinner out! I’d love to try The Tops.”

Ice cream or chocolate covered strawberries?: Chocolate covered strawberries~ “Or whatever fruit we can find.”

What makes you a good Valentine?: “Hun, you just rode across the entire wasteland of this country with me. Pretty sure that means you’re stuck with me forever, now.”

Would you cook for me?: Of course~

Would you let me cook for you?: Yes~

— valentine’s day application / @bucketfullofocs​

Throughout his read, there was nothing less than a smile on his face. The kisses were a lovely touch and flustered him a great deal, since his one and only thought when he spotted them was that he wished they’d been laid on his skin rather than the paper.

He would have to repay her in kind while dining with her at The Tops. Because for as worried as he had been during the trip, their destination had been well worth it. And her reaction to arriving — worth far more than even the trip itself. Although, he would gladly pass on cooking for her. He could heat up cans of beans and cold, processed meats, but he couldn’t cook the way she did.

That was the least of his concerns, however. There was only one thought on his mind now, and he needed to find her quickly, before the desire to kiss her frustrated him too deeply.

[xmenageriie]

[Jessica @ Danse] "Hey Danse, when you two reach Vegas, you oughta go find a friend'a mine - Veronica. I think you two would get along. Former Brotherhood with a heart'a gold."

— @bucketfullofocs

His head lifted quickly, eyes wide and curious. He knew of the western branches, but he was at a loss for names. If they had a reputation, he was unaware of that as well. But now he had one name, and he trusted that Jessica wouldn’t lead him astray. If she said Veronica was a good person, then he was more than inclined to believe her.

“I think I might.” There was a small smile, then a hesitant pause before he continued. “Do you know why she’s no longer a member?”

[xmenageriie]

“When you laugh like that, it just — you’re so beautiful, you know that?” [Marianne @ Danse]

— soft sentences / @bucketfullofocs

“I — I’m not——” Said laughter died in a heartbeat, leaving him flushed and wide-eyed. No one in his memory had ever called him beautiful, especially after a wide and open laughing fit. But had to admit to himself after a moment of awkward stammering that no one had made him laugh that way since Cutler. No one had made him feel safe and happy since his best friend, and the fact that she did had only just dawned on him.

She gave him a reason to laugh, to smile, to feel like there was something worth waking up for after losing his family and purpose. If there was any chance that someone could think he was beautiful, it was because she had helped him reach that point.

Taking her hand and pulling her in close, Danse kissed her square in the center of her forehead.

“You’re the one that made me laugh. If I’d had a drink in the middle of that, I doubt it would have been as beautiful.” He chuckled and pulled back, a brow raised. “Where did you get your sense of humor from?”

[xmenageriie]

[Marianne @ Danse] "Happy Halloween, Danse! You ready for the party tonight?" Marianne grins, leaning against a wall. She's dressed as a rather scantily clad devil, complete with horns and a tail she was holding in one hand.

— @bucketfullofocs

“Uh.  .  .” He had an answer, but it died in his throat the moment he spotted Marianne in her costume. Hers was vastly more revealing than his, and there was no hiding that he appreciated it. Red cheeks, wide eyes and a complete lack for words — he couldn’t even formulate the compliments she deserved. His brain had short-circuited, but they were both fortunate that it repaired itself quickly enough.

His nod was quick and short, giving him the opportunity to turn his eyes back to the grime-crusted mirror he had been using to perfect his own costume. It wasn’t elaborate, but he liked to think that this was quite a leap for a guy like himself. The whole ensemble, complete with an eye patch, bellowing shirt and sash around the waist, gave him the vague appearance of a pirate.

“I think I am.” He turned away from the mirror and came to embrace her despite the growing heat in his gut. Marianne knew how to toy with him, and it seemed that no amount of discipline and training could quell the feelings that she brought out in him. “Pirates were known for stealing priceless treasures, right? Does that mean I have to steal you away before the party is over?”

It was a lame attempt at flirtations, but she was worth the embarrassment.

[xmenageriie]

[Marianne @ Danse] “I’m thinking of hosting a Halloween party this year.”

— halloween & autumn / @bucketfullofocs

“You are?” Danse didn’t hide his surprise, but neither did he voice any doubts he might have — mostly because he didn’t have them to begin with. A year or so ago, he would have scolded her for wanting to waste time and supplies. Holidays had been pointless, even when the Brotherhood allowed for light celebration. He had never partook in Halloween despite the allure of sweets, always remaining responsible for those that were too sick on candies or drunk on booze to be responsible for themselves.

He had no reason to be responsible now. Maybe, for the first time in a long while, he could relax and let the spirit of the holiday take him.

“Some of the younger recruits used to throw little parties during Halloween, but I never joined in. I’m not sure I’ll be of any use or fun.” He raised both eyebrows at her, not appearing the least bit dissuaded. “Why do I have a feeling your parties are more extravagant?”

[xmenageriie]

[Marianne @ Danse] "So wait if Danse isn't your first name what am I suppose to yell in bed? Danse or you first name?" A pause. "I could always just call you Sir~."

— @bucketfullofocs

Before Danse could answer the rather blunt question, he first needed to get over the violent bout of coughing it had brought him. Her timing was atrocious, a sudden and surprised intake of breath causing him to gulp down more Nuka-Cola than he intended. Sputtering and hacking, it almost sounded as if he were dying.

Considering how embarrassing the question was, Danse almost wished he was.

“I don’t — uh — know.” His mind had shorted out, and he was positive she’d smell the smoke soon. Awkwardly, he turned his attention away from her, mind wandering despite him trying his best to keep it away from bedroom thoughts.

After a one-shoulder shrug, he stood and moved to embrace Marianne from behind, face hidden in her shoulder and voice quiet. “Isn’t that your choice? I think as long as it’s my name, I don’t care which you use. Although.  .  .”

He paused, and his face became so hot and red that she might feel it through her clothes.

“You’ve never called me sir with that voice before.”

[xmenageriie]

[Touch meme - Marianne @ Danse] Familiar hands find his back, finger slowly tracing the muscles along his ribs. They wander slowly, sometimes lightly, sometimes with a little more pressure. Thumbs find his spine and trail down until almost reaching the base, right near the top of his hips. Her hands spread out, following the top of his hips until she's reached all the way around and rested her hands right along the edge of his pants. Then he'd feel kisses along his spine.

— touch meme / @bucketfullofocs

He was tense at first, the gentle but sudden sensation of her hands on his back making every muscle tighten until her palms and fingers had begun to warm. Her lightest touches made his skin rise with a thousand noticeable goosebumps, while the encouraging pressure behind harder presses loosened the knots under his skin. And when she grazed her fingertips against his hips, he felt a jolt so deep that he couldn’t contain the smallest, softest gasp.

Marianne knew how to calm him down. She knew where to touch and how, and he was grateful for it. On his own, he would boil in his emotions because he had been lead to believe that it wasn’t appropriate to vent. So they stayed inside, winding him up tight as a newly pressed spring.

“Thank you.  .  .” Without her, he was sure he would stress himself near to death.

[xmenageriie]

[Jessica @ Danse] There's a knock at the door, and when it's opened there's not Marianne, not one of her companions, but a woman with green hair. "Hey Marianne, I brought you those maps - oh. Uh, howdy stranger? This's Mari's house, yeah? She asked me to bring her my maps, but I'm guessin' she ain't home right now?" God, she was starting to sound like Victor, her accent coming through.

— @bucketfullofocs​

“Oh.” He didn’t mean to parrot her, but her sudden appearance was a shock. Not only did she look different than most of the people he had encountered during his travels through the Commonwealth, but her accent — it was unlike any he’d heard before. Danse didn’t intend to be rude, but he couldn’t help but to stare with wide, confused eyes while she spoke.

“No, she’s not home.” He shook his head and stepped back, allowing her room to pass through the door if she wished to. “She went out for a bit, but she said she’d be back soon.”

He glanced over his shoulder towards an open pack sitting on the floor. Around it sat a mess of ammunition and gun parts, begging to be cleaned, reassembled and packed. Instead, he looked back to her and attempted a smile that wound up tighter and more awkward than he intended.

“Marianne showed me a picture a while back.” His feet shuffled, and he fiddled with the door handle. Social interaction outside of getting and giving orders was odd. “You were in it. She mentioned the leader of the Minutemen too. Is it safe to assume you’re her?”

He waited patiently for an answer, but it was half a second later that he gave a start. “Oh, wait. Did you want to come inside?”

Being hospitable was equally as odd.

[xmenageriie]

[Marianne @ Danse] When Marianne approaches, she's holding something in her hands. "Hey Danse, how'd you feel about a trip out West one these days? Apparently Las Vegas is still around!" She showed him what was in her hands - a photograph of a neon sign that read "New Vegas" in bold letters. While the sign was the main focus, a pair of people could be seen under it - one with green hair, one with blonde. "The Minutemen General just told me! God, I haven't been to Vegas since I was 21."

— @bucketfullofocs

He sat perched on the edge of stacked cinderblocks, back arched forward and face scrunched with concentration. In his hands, he meticulously fiddled with the finer parts of his laser rifle. Knowing they were safe where they were, he didn’t feel the need to lift his head. Danse knew those footfalls well, and he knew who they belonged to.

“A trip?” Now he lifted his head, dark eyes focusing on her for a fraction of a second before they found the photograph. The image wasn’t familiar, but the name was. “I think we had a chapter out there. I mean.  .  . I think they did.”

His attention skimmed over the two figures, kept their general features in his memory. The mention of the Minutemen General piqued his interest for a millisecond, as he’d heard mention of her before. The Commonwealth wasn’t exceedingly large compared to some areas of the US, he knew that, but he still had yet to run into her. As of now, he wasn’t sure if that was a good or bad thing.

“This trip would mean a lot to you, wouldn’t it?” He stood after finishing piecing his rifle back together, the completed piece resting on his shoulder. The place didn’t appeal to him in the least, with it’s scantily clad people, excess alcohol and gambling. The idea of Marianne being submerged in that sort of debauchery concerned him, but he had learned rather quickly that there was very little he could do to stop her.

That, and she deserved a break. A vacation would do both of them some good, and it was about time he ventured away from the east coast for a little while. He would be cautious and careful, diligent and prepared. Nothing, not even Marianne’s laid-back nature, would scare away years of discipline. But as long as she tolerated his constant need to protect her and his usual uptightness, he would follow her anywhere.

“How long will the trip take us, and when do you want to pack?”

[xmenageriie]

[Shows up 5 hours later with ask memes] [Marriane @ Danse b/c poor life choices] “Oh, are you here to punish me? ‘Cause that’s kinda hot.”

— malachai ‘kai’ parker sentence starters / @bucketfullofocs

The teensy-tiny part of him that adored her risque playfulness wanted to laugh at the comment and reward her with one of his own, but he didn’t. Instead, he fumed quietly to himself while stepping out of his armor. His back remained towards her, every muscle taunt and tight with stress. He combed both hands through his thick, sweat-matted hair after peeling off his cap, the piece tossed onto his bed.

“You disobeyed a command, Marianne. I realize I’ve got no real authority over you anymore, but I thought——” He paused abruptly, face twisting sightly as he tried to think of the right words to say. “I thought you had more respect for me than that. You could have been hurt.”

He strode up to her, tall and broad and imposing in everything but his expression. That was softer now, more helpless. “This isn’t funny. Make all the comments you like, but please acknowledge that what you did was careless.”

[xmenageriie]

[Marianne to Danse, 1/2] "There you are! I've been looking all over for you." Marianne greets Danse, waving him over to where she was in the kitchen of Home Plate. "So I don't know if you guys still celebrate Valentine's day but I wanted to get you something anyways." She didn't want to get him more power armor mods - he got plenty of those already. So instead there, sitting next to a muttfruit pie, was a necklace. Dogtags.

[Marianne to Danse, 2/2] Upon closer inspection, one was one of hers – the other was a handstamped tag that held his own name, his birthday, and the words ‘Return to: Home Plate, Diamond City’. “I wasn’t sure if you wanted any kind of ID number on the tag so I left it off, but I can always add one if you want.” Did she look nervous? Maybe just a tad.

— @bucketfullofocs

“I was on patrol,” explained the unarmored man as he set his favored weapon aside, “someone came to me concerned and I couldn’t dismiss them without taking a look myself.”

Always cautious. Always willing to help.

The Brotherhood had abandoned him, but he wouldn’t leave behind the parts of himself behind that had made him as brilliant a solider as he had been. Even if it meant spending most of his day wandering around Diamond City and helping to ease the concerns of a local — made him feel more accomplished once he finally returned home.

Except, this time, he was hesitant to bring himself closer to the woman.

Danse knew of Valentine’s Day, like he knew about most American holidays. It was a day of love, of appreciation and care. Like most people, he associated it more with romantic love than anything else. He can glimpsed advertisements in magazines, claiming this product or that product would make their Valentine’s Day more meaningful. Little cards, pretty words, candies. He couldn’t remember the last time he had tasted chocolate, but it seemed to be the most popular gift. Flowers too, but that was pointless in a wasteland.

Out of instinct, he wanted to tell her pointedly that he had no reason to celebrate. Relationships weren’t forbidden in the Brotherhood, but they weren’t smiled upon. They were distracting and added an extra layer of pain none of them needed. Although, for him, it was merely a case of having not found anyone worth risking that pain for. They had all been like brothers and sisters to him, except for her.

There was no chance to rebuff her. He was too surprised, too dumbstruck.

“You did this?” He eyed the pie, ignoring the way his stomach knotted. He hadn’t eaten since that morning, and the sight food reminded him of just how famished he was. The pie could wait, however, as he caught the glimmer of the dog tags in the dim, flickering light inside Home Plate.

He lifted the thin chain with large fingers, tags resting in his other palm. With a thumb, he rubbed at the debossing of their names in the metal. Without thinking about it, he lingered on hers the longest.

Danse was silent, eyes glued to the tags. His expression was hard to read, being cold and hard as the cinder blocks holding their home together. Only after she spoke did he snap out of his trance, eyes fluttering and cheeks gaining a significant amount of color and heat. He didn’t blush often, but it was noticeable when he did.

 “No! I.  .  . prefer it this way.” He brought his tag to the front, noting that the only numbers were his birthday. “If I could be honest with you for a moment, Marianne. After everything that happened, I started to wonder if I really was nothing but a number. My Brotherhood ID, my unit number, the coding that made me — that’s all I’ve ever been. I was never a real person. I was a machine meant to do as I was told.”

A heavy pause fell over the man as he squeezed the tags in his hands. The edges bit into his skin, but he didn’t show any signs of discomfort.

“You’re the first to make me feel like I’m more than that. You call me by my name, and you don’t look at me like I’m going to malfunction at any second.” He finally turned his eyes to her, not minding that they were damp around the edges. “Don’t add anything. They’re perfect the way they are.”

He let the chain fall around his neck, tags dangling against his chest. A small, kind smile softened his features.

Emotions ( and expressing them ) had never been easy for him, but he felt in his gut that he ought to thank her properly. Leaning towards her, face still red and heart beating rapidly in his chest, he dared to brush his lips against her cheek. Part of him internally panicked over whether he had gone too far, if he was reading too deeply into the gift. Another part didn’t care; he had fought with his own thoughts and feelings for too long, and it was about time he stopped cowering at the fact that she meant something to him.

She was gorgeous, strong, talented and gave him the hope that more people like her could exist. Not that there would ever be another person exactly like her. She was unique, and he loved that about her. But if she could still find kindness in her heart in a place so unforgiving, then there was chance that others could learn from her.

“Thank you.” He muttered bashfully once he pulled away. Eyes down, one hand rubbing awkwardly at the side of his neck. “I didn’t realize what day it was, so I don’t have anything prepared. I know it isn’t much, but you have my gratitude. And.  .  . And a special place in my heart. I hate sounding so ridiculous, but you’re important to me. More than anyone else ever has been. I’ll take care of these, I swear it. And I’ll take care of you, as long as you’ll let me.”

[xmenageriie]

Truth - "Okay big guy, so my turn - when did you first realize you had feelings for me?" [Marianne to Danse]

— truth serum / @bucketfullofocs​

Danse wasn’t entirely sure why, but it brought him a great rush of heat whenever she addressed him as ‘big guy.’ Others had in the past, but their teasing had only earned them a heated and disapproving scowl from their superior. With her, he couldn’t do more than wrinkle his brow and wish the heat in his cheeks away.

It didn’t help that she was leaning against him while asking such an embarrassing question. All of it combined was almost enough to make thinking difficult. If it weren’t for the sake of being fair, he might have tried to dodge the question entirely and spare himself the trouble of sorting through the mess of thoughts and feelings he’d had since meeting her.

Because if he were to be completely and totally honest, he wasn’t sure there was an exact moment that sprung immediately to mind.

Everything became ten times clearer in hindsight. When he thought back, little things that had happened between them seemed silly now. Certain words and the tones behind them seemed so easily readable now. Tiny moments he had taken for granted then felt like lost opportunities now. There was also the fact that he still wasn’t sure he deserved this — or her.

The answer to her question could have been one of several moments, and he couldn’t pinpoint one that made his heart burst most until he really thought about it.

It could have been her first moment in a power suit. That day had certainly been an interesting one. He hadn’t meant to laugh then, but it had felt good to. Before then, he couldn’t recall the last time he’d let loose a chuckle that sincere. No amount of reassurance and no number of promises to help her get used to the gear would have her appreciating power suits the way he did. Still, the memory of her rigidly stumbling around in the suit would stick with him forever.

No, that couldn’t be it. That wasn’t profound enough.

Maybe it was their first real dinner together.

He had sorted their rations after a long day of muddy, murky trekking, a habit he was unable to break even now. The cans of cram, pork n’ beans and slightly mushed but still raw vegetables had been set out meticulously between them. He had begun to separate the portions evenly, but she insisted she prepare them differently. Danse remembered being stunned and spitting out the only thought that had popped into his mind, “what do you mean?”

People didn’t cook anymore, not unless they were feeling creative during their survival. He certainly didn’t know the first thing about improving the rations given to them. More often than not, he was grateful for what he had and ate without complaint.

But after tasting her work and knowing that she could treat him to small glimpses of what dining was like before the war, he couldn’t help but to crave her cooking and the stories that came with it.

That couldn’t be it either. That felt too common and occurrence.

After a few more minutes of contemplative silence, he turned dark eyes towards her.

“It’s ridiculous,” started the ex-paladin with a low and embarrassed grumble, “but there was.  .  . a moment. You were watching me repair my suit, I believe. I don’t know why. I was sure you thought all of that monotonous and uninteresting. I asked you to hand me one of my tools and——”

He stopped again, throat knotting and expression resembling that of an flustered teenager. “——when you handed it over, your fingers touched mine. It was like being struck. Of all the things you’ve done, all the conversations we’ve shared and wonderful things I’ve watched you do, that was the first time I couldn’t stop thinking about you. I thought it was just a sudden discharge of electrical shock, but it wouldn’t go away. I kept going back to it, kept replaying it in my head.”

Danse huffed through his nose and looked down at the hand he spoke of. “I’ve had people touch my hand before. It’s never made me lose sleep before. I kept thinking to myself, ‘did she do it on purpose?’ I kept hoping so, but I was too much of a damned coward to do anything about it.”

His rough fingertips grazed the back of her smaller hand, the rush of tingles he felt along his nerves much stronger now. “That’s never changed, you know. I don’t believe it ever will. Being near you, holding your hand — I’m so glad it makes me feel something.”

[xmenageriie]

— @bucketfullofocs​

The simple gesture irritated Danse. Were he still tied to his rank, he would have muttered something about being insubordinate and overconfident. The urge was still there, as old habits were hell to break, but he contained himself. He took in a deep breath through his nose, noting the hint of sea water and rotting foliage that came with it, then released it through a small gap between his lips.

                        Breathe, soldier.

“Mirelurks.  .  .” He scowled. “Disgusting creatures. And you’re sure that’s all you found? Were there any egg clusters? If there are, there’s a chance they’ll be twice as brutal. Protective mothers are relentless.”

There were no requests to go back, and no jabs at the usefulness of her idea. He followed the same train of thought and wanted nothing more than to help better the Commonwealth. His allegiances may have changed, but his ultimate goal hadn’t. If it would help the people feel more like they were living and less like surviving, then he wouldn’t stray of Marianne’s plans.

“What’s the plan once we’re there?”

[xmenageriie]

Marianne was dancing about, singing along to Atom Bomb Baby as she slid around the kitchen in nothing more than an oversized button-down shirt and socks that suspiciously looked like Danse's. The smell of breakfast cooking wafted through Home Plate. She wanted to get breakfast ready before Danse woke up, but she was so lost in her own little world that she failed to realize her singing might have woken him up.

— @bucketfullofocs​

Her singing absolutely woke him up, but he had no reason to complain. In the dimly lit space of Home Plate, he could glimpse her skating across the floor in socks that were clearly his. They were too big and stretched out on her legs, the heel portion sitting along her Achilles heel. The shirt was nice, gave him little peeks of the skin underneath when she moved.

The aroma filling the air was heavenly. It wasn’t often that they spoiled themselves with meals that almost resembled the ones had before the war. But if anyone deserved to be spoiled, it was her. And while he watched her cook, he wondered; ‘was this what it felt like back then?’

Laying there, he watched her work her magic. He shifted only when she did, just to ensure she wouldn’t stop when he adjusted himself. Danse stretched out on his side, head propped up with his arm. Only after her dancing and signing became too damn cute did he finally fight his way out of bed. It meant leaving the warmth of the blanket, but he quickly remedied that by wrapping himself around her from behind.

“Good morning. Did someone wake up in a good mood?” He kissed at her shoulder through her shirt, up her neck and to her cheek where his stubble scratched.

[xmenageriie]

— @jyargal​ / starter call

“Was it Maxson that hired you?”

The very moment the subject of synths was brought up, Danse seemed to be on edge. His jaw was set square, and his movements as he packed his bag were jerky. There was a distasteful growl behind his voice, one that held obvious disdain and hints of regret. His every attempt to hide that he had once been Brotherhood seemed pointless now, as he was far too obviously holding onto several emotions connected to the organization.

“What did he say this time? That we.  .  . that they’re manipulative, deceitful abominations that will lead you into believing they’re loyal friends before stabbing you in the back? Did he tell you to annihilate every synth with extreme prejudiced?”

Danse brought his vigorous packing to a halt, eyes moving towards Erron’s. “Are you going through with it?”

[xmenageriie]

— @bucketfullofocs​

When and if Marianne found herself back at Home Plate, she would find a small stack of holotapes sitting beside a worn but still functioning holotape player. Two of the holotapes were bound together and set aside from the rest, while the other two sat under a small note. It was simple but written in familiar hand writing, and it said: For Marianne. I’m sorry.

Each holotape was numbered just to ensure she listened to them in order.

The first opened with the crackling of static, then his voice.

“I.  .  .

I wasn’t sure how to start this at first. I’d been thinking it over for about an hour now, and I think I know now that there’s no other way to start than by apologizing.

I’ve invaded your privacy, and I’m sorry.

Someone, I don’t know who yet, dropped these holotapes off. I wasn’t aware when I started listening that they would be yours. But when I did realize, I didn’t stop listening. I should have. I know better than that, but my curiosity got the better of me. That’s no excuse, but you should know that I had a moment of weakness that I’m not proud of.

Those holotapes were of you speaking, so I assumed at first that you had made them. The more I think about it, the more it seems that’s not the truth. If it is, then I’m doubly sorry. Your thoughts are your own, and I shouldn’t have pried. If they were taken without your permission or knowledge, then I will make it my goal to find the sneak recording you.

But on these tapes, I heard you say things that.  .  . confused me and made me happy.

I don’t mean to sound like I’m bragging, but people have made comments in the past. You’re hardly the first to take note of my physique, but you are the only person whose opinion mattered to me. I can’t quite recall exactly what you said, but I think it was along the lines of me being a twenty out of ten.”

There was a moment of laughter, and it sounded both pure and embarrassed. “I didn’t think that was possible. That holotape alone baffled me, but it was the second one that really hit me.”

There was another pause, then a shaky breath.

“Again, I’m not sure how to start. I thought talking to this machine would make it easier, but it doesn’t.

Hearing you compliment me, I’ve begun to accept it. You tell me not to doubt you, that you always mean what you say. I’ve begun to trust that. When you tell me nice things about the way I look or the way I handled a situation, I’m not inclined to disagree right away. But you said.  .  .

You asked yourself if you loved me, and you didn’t sound sure. I don’t blame you.

But then you said you’d never approach me about it bec——! Ah, dammit. Hold on. Please, if you’re not upset with me yet, listen to the next tape.”

The second began as if there hadn’t been a three minute swapping of tapes.

“You said you’d never approach me about it because you didn’t want to take advantage of me. You didn’t want me to feel like I owed you, or that I was in love with you because of everything you’d done for me.

I don’t mean to be rude, Marianne, but that’s silly.

Yes, I feel a lot for you because of all those things. You helped me when no one else would, you’ve spent time with me outside of battle and made me forget that the world outside these walls is a horrible, selfish place.

It wasn’t an instantaneous thing. You didn’t do me a service and flip my entire world upside down. I don’t doubt you’re capable of doing that for another person. You are that influential, that wonderful and kind.

I don’t want you thinking that I.  .  .

                 .  .  . that I love you because of that alone.

It did sway me quite a bit, I’ll admit, but it took time. It took you seeing me at my worst, seeing me behave so hatefully. I know that couldn’t have been easy for you, with you being so open-minded. I know the way I acted before was disgusting, and it could have turned you away. It should have turned you away. It took you learning the same things I learned about myself and telling me that it didn’t matter.

It took you sharing secrets with me. It took you convincing me that it’s alright to share my secrets too. It took you smiling at me and telling me that there’s no one else you’d rather kill mirelurks with. It’s so many things, and at the same time it’s just you.

I don’t care what you have or haven’t done for me.

Because despite everything I just said, there’s one thing that keeps these unusual feelings from going away — and it’s the idea that I’m going to see you tomorrow.

Even when I was in the Brotherhood, I never really had a reason to look forward to the next day. I had missions and purposes, but none of them made me wake up happy. I open my eyes, and I wonder what good we’ll do. I wonder what stories you’ll tell me when you come home.

I don’t think much about our past together. I will always be grateful for what you’ve done, don’t misunderstand. Nothing will ever change how appreciative I am of you, but that’s not what occupies my thoughts most days. More than anything, I’m imagining what our future might be like. The kind of future it might be is up to you, Marianne.

I don’t care what happens or what choice you make. Whether it be as friends or something else, the result will be the same. I’ll care for you endlessly and with my whole heart. You’ll always be important to me.

I wanted to leave these tapes here because you deserve to know. I disrespected you by listening to the holotapes given to me, and I’m deeply sorry. But when I thought about apologizing, it didn’t feel like enough. You’ve always been honest with me, and I should do the same. You know everything now, and I wanted to give you time to think about it. If you want to think about it. I didn’t want to be there and have my presence pressure you.

You’re the most wonderful woman I’ve ever met, and I hope you know that.

I’ll be back in a day or two. I won’t be at the usual places, so don’t feel obligated to find me. I’ll be fine.

See you later.”